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“Not so, little man. The game just doesn’t go that way. I hate to go ex post facto on you, but simply because you’re nicely covered by the law doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way. I’m making up a new one right now. Know what it is?”

He still smiled, no change of expression. It was almost as if he were watching one of his experiments in the rabbit cage.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll tell you. All little geniuses . . . or is it genii? . . . who kill and try to get away with it get it in the neck anyway.”

Very deliberately I let him see me flick the safety catch on the .45. His eyes were little dark pools that seemed to swim in his head.

I was wondering if I was going to like this.

I never killed a little genius before.

For the first time, Ruston spoke. “About an hour ago I anticipated this,” he smiled. I tightened involuntarily. I didn’t know why, but I almost knew beforehand what he’d say.

“When I threw my arms around you inside there feigning happiness over your miraculous reappearance, I removed the clip from your gun. It’s a wonder you didn’t notice the difference in weight.”

Did you ever feel like screaming?

My hand was shaking with rage. I felt the hollow space where the clip fitted and swore. I was so damn safety conscious I didn’t jack a shell into the chamber earlier either.

And Ruston reached behind the music rack on the piano and came out with the .32.

He smiled again. He knew damn well what I was thinking. Without any trouble I could make the next corpse. He fondled the gun, eyeing the hammer. “Don’t move too quickly, Mike. No. I’m not going to shoot you, not just yet. You see, my little knowledge of sleight of hand was quite useful . . . as handy as to know how to open locks. The Normanic sciences weren’t all I studied. Anything that presented a problem afforded me the pleasure of solving it in my spare time.

“Move your chair a little this way so I can see you to the best advantage. Ah . . . yes. Compliments are in order, I believe. You were very right and very clever in your deductions. Frankly, I didn’t imagine anyone would be able to wade through the tangle that the murder preceded. I thought I did quite well, but I see I failed, up to a certain point. Look at it from my point of view before you invite any impetuous ideas. If you turned me over to the police and proved your case, I would, as you say, stand before a juvenile court. Never would I admit my actual adulthood to them, and I would be sent away for a few years, or perhaps not at all. You see, there’s a side to my story too, one you don’t know about.

“Or, Mike, and this is an important ‘or’ . . . I may kill you and claim self-defense. You came in here and in a state of extreme nervous tension hit me. I picked up a gun that dropped out of your pocket”—he held up the .32—“and shot you. Simple? Who would disbelieve it, especially with your temperament . . . and my tender years. So sit still and I don’t think I’ll shoot you for a little while, at least. Before I do anything, I want to correct some erroneous impressions you seem to have.

“I am not a ‘few’ years ahead of my time . . . the difference is more like thirty. Even that is an understatement. Can you realize what that means? Me. Fourteen years old. Yet I have lived over fifty years! God, what a miserable existence. You saw my little, er, schoolhouse, but what conclusion did you draw? Fool that you were, you saw nothing. You saw no electrical or mechanical contrivances that had been developed by one of the greatest scientific minds of the century. No, you merely saw objects, never realizing what they were for.” He paused, grinning with abject hatred. “Have you ever seen them force-feed ducks to enlarge their livers to make better sausages? Picture that happening to a mind. Imagine having the learning processes accelerated through pain. Torture can make the mind do anything when properly presented.

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to actually feel any of all that. It was supposed to happen while I was unconscious, with only the subconscious mind reacting to the incredible pressures being put