"My mouth moves, words come out, and you don't hear them."

"Oh, I hear them." She caught a glimpse of the big clock on the wall, then grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "I'm late for a movie. The Wizard of Oz — have you seen it?"

"I hear it's good, but I doubt it can compete with Gone with the Wind. My wife liked that one." Editor Paley had three grown daughters, none of whom had ever given him any trouble; Polly, though, wasn't anything like them. When she flashed a smile that made him flinch, he said, "Polly, I don't like it when you smile at me."

"You don't like my smile?" She smiled again, brighter this time.

"I don't like what's behind it." He stopped her at the door, but he knew he couldn't block her way when she was determined. As a last resort, he tried to be reasonable. "Six scientists are missing, Polly — probably dead. Someone out there means business, and I don't want you in the middle of it. It's time you leave the detective work to the police."

"I'm only going to a movie, Mr. Paley. Munchkins, cowardly lions, tin woodsmen — "

"Uh-huh. With a gun and a camera."

"A girl can't be too careful these days. You don't have to worry about me."

"I'm worried for me. If you get yourself killed, there's a lot of paperwork involved. And then I have to start from scratch training your replacement." He rubbed his heavy cheeks, pensive. "Of course, maybe somebody else would be a bit less intractable…"

Polly flippantly moved past him. "I'll bring you back some popcorn."

As she went by, the editor insisted on giving her a reassuring hug, barely more than a pat, and Polly indulged him. His hand brushed her leather bag.

After she had gone, Morris Paley's expression showed no defeat. "You've still got a lot of tricks to learn about this business, kid." In his right hand, he smugly twirled the Colt, which he had easily lifted from her bag. "I hope you live long enough to master them all."