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skeptical of your methods of carrying them forward."
    He made a half bow to them, still sitting in their chairs.
    "And now I must go to lunch," he said.
    He was halfway across the lobby when someone caught him by the elbow. He whirled, half angrily. It was Hamilton, threadbare cap in hand.
    "You forgot something," said Hamilton, holding out the leaflets Sutton had left lying on the floor.

VIII

    T HE DESK buzzer snarled at Adams and he thumbed it up.
    "Yes," he said. "What is it?"
    Alice's words tumbled over one another. "The file, sir. The Sutton file."
    "What about the Sutton file?"
    "It's gone, sir."
    "Someone is using it."
    "No, sir, not that. It has been stolen."
    Adams jerked erect.
    "Stolen!"
    "Stolen," said Alice. "That is right, sir. Twenty years ago."
    "But twenty years…"
    "We checked the security points," said Alice. "It was stolen just three days after Mr. Sutton set out for 61."

IX

    T HE LAWYER said his name was Wellington. He had painted a thin coat of plastic lacquer over his forehead to hide the tattoo mark, but the mark showed through if one looked closely. And his voice was the voice of an android.
    He laid his hat very carefully on a table, sat down meticulously in a chair and placed his brief case across his knee. He handed Sutton a rolled-up paper.
    "Your newspaper, sir," he said. "It was outside the door. I thought that you might want it."
    "Thanks," said Sutton.
    Wellington cleared his throat. "You are Asher Sutton?" he asked.
    Sutton nodded.
    "I represent a certain robot who commonly went by the name of Buster. You may remember him."
    Sutton leaned quickly forward. "Remember him? Why, he was a second father to me. Raised me after both my parents died. He has been with my family for almost four thousand years."
    Wellington cleared his throat again. "Quite so," he said.
    Sutton leaned back in his chair, crushing the newspaper in his grip.
    "Don't tell me…"
    Wellington waved a sober hand. "No, he's in no trouble. Not yet, that is. Not unless you choose to make it for him."
    "What has he done?" asked Sutton.
    "He has run away."
    "Good Lord! Run away. Where to?"
    Wellington squirmed uneasily in the chair. "To one of the Tower stars, I believe."
    "But," protested Sutton, "that's way out. Out almost to the edge."
    Wellington nodded. "He bought himself a new body and a ship and stocked it up…"
    "With what?" asked Sutton. "Buster had no money."
    "Oh, yes, he had. Money he had saved over, what was it you said, four thousand years or so. Tips from guests, Christmas presents, one thing and another. It would all count up…in four thousand years. Placed at interest, you know."
    "But why?" asked Sutton. "What does he intend to do?"
    "He took out a homestead on a planet. He didn't sneak away. He filed his claim, so you can trace him if you wish. He used the family name, sir. That worried him a little. He hoped you wouldn't mind."
    Sutton shook his head. "Not at all," he said. "He has a right to that name, as good a right as I have myself."
    "You don't mind, then?" asked Wellington. "About the whole thing, I mean. After all, he was your property."
    "No," said Sutton, "I don't mind. But I was looking forward to seeing him again. I called the old home place, but there was no answer. I thought he might be out."
    Wellington reached into the inside pocket of his coat.
    "He left you a letter," he said, holding it out.
    Sutton took it. It had his name written across its face. He turned it over, but there was nothing more.
    "He also," said Wellington, "left an old trunk in my custody. Said it contained some old family papers that you might find of interest."
    Sutton sat silently, staring across the room and seeing nothing.
    There had been an apple tree at the gate and each year young Ash Sutton had eaten the apples when they were green and Buster had nursed him each time gently through the crisis and then had whaled him good and proper to teach him respect for his metabolism. And when the kid down the road had licked