Oh good God! Are You sure You ARE good ?" In his brown khaki trousers and shirt, his head bare, his bronze face limned with agony he made no attempt to conceal, the Harvester, with feet planted firmly, and tightly folded arms, his head tipped slightly to one side, braced himself as he sent his keen gray eyes searching the crowd.

Far away he selected his man.

He was young, strong, criminally handsome, clean and alert; there was discernible anxiety on his face, and it touched the Harvester's soul that he was coming just as swiftly as he could force his way.

As he passed the gates the Harvester reached his side.
"Doctor Harmon, I think," he said.
"Yes." "This way! If you have luggage, I will send for it later." The Harvester hurried to the car.
"Take the shortest cut and cover space," he said to the driver.

The car kept to the speed limit until toward the suburbs.
Doctor Harmon removed his hat, ran his fingers through dark waving hair and yielded his body to the swing of the car.