thorough enough search of the area and was in the process of retrieving the long piece of boning when a heavy hand clamped itself on her bared shoulder and spun her about. "So, we have a sneaking Beauty? The voice and the hulking figure belonged to a large, latently stupid gorilla that circulated around the place during the evening, ostensibly to keep order. Gloria had been trained to think fast in such a situation and al- though she could probably have killed the unsuspecting guard with an expert blow to the throat, she favored, almost instinctively the really sensible approach—

She screamed. And again. Loudly, terrifiedly screaming, while the hand that had been working out the stay, dropped to the neckline of the chemise and tore it down to waist level where the pettipants re- ceive the same treatment in the same motion. The startled guard then made a fatal mistake. He attempted to stifle the screams with his hand while the other arm went around Gloria's body to restrain her. They were in this position when the beams of two flashlights caught them.

"What goes on here?" The question came with the weight of author- ity and a coldness that would have chilled anyone but the most despa- rate of persons.

Gloria managed another half-hearted scream, then broke away from the bewildered guard and rushed, sobbing toward the owner of the voice-whom she knew to be the manager. For his part, the manager was thrown off balance, both mentally and physically by the disheveled, nearly naked form of the young girl. Gloria threw two arms about him for support and whimpered "I-I couldn't sleep. I was in-in the hall and the door wouldn't open and then this-man grabbed me and he started to tear off my clothes and-" with that Gloria burst into really first rate sobs.

With only the briefest of glances at the half-crouched figure of the guard, the manager snapped an order into the darkness behind him, "Kill him!" and there was a momentary half-choked scream from the guard as a glinting shadow buried itself in his throat and he slumped to the floor. "Get rid of him," he rasped in Marseilles French as he had the first command. "There, my cocou-my pigeon. Let's go down to the office and you can tell me why you walk about at night. Among other things." After a motion of his head, several spectral figures bore the body of the dead man away. The owner of the other flashlight fol- lowed them by a pace.

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