Benteley examined the charm. It looked like an expensive one. "You think it'll do me any good?" he asked her. Seeing Lori again wasn't part of his plans.

"I hope so." She touched his arm briefly. "Thanks for being so nice. You hustled me off before I could tell you." She lingered plaintively. "You think you have much of a chance? Gee, if you get taken on, you'll probably stay here in Batavia."

Irritated, Benteley answered, "You're being teeped while you stand here. Verrick has them planted all over the place."

"I don't mind," Lori said wistfully. "A bed girl has nothing to conceal."

Benteley wasn't amused. "I don't like it. I've never been teeped in my life." He shrugged. "But I guess if I'm going to lock on here, I'll have to get used to it."

He moved toward the central desk, his i.d. and power cards ready. The line moved rapidly. A few moments later the MacMillan official accepted them, devoured them, and then addressed him peevishly. "All right, Ted Benteley. You may go in now."

"Well," Lori said wanly, "I guess I'll be seeing you. If you get locked on here..."

Benteley stubbed out his cigarette and turned toward the entrance of the inner offices. "I'll look you up," he murmured, scarcely aware of the girl. He pushed past the rows of waiting people, swept his briefcase tight against him, and stepped quickly through the door. The door snapped instantly shut behind him.

He was inside: it had begun.

A small middle-aged man with steel-rimmed glasses and a tiny waxed mustache was standing by the door watching him intently. "You're Benteley, are you?"

"That's right," Benteley answered. "I'm here to see Quizmaster Verrick."

"Why?"

"I'm looking for a class 8-8 position."