When I opened the door to my secretary's office, I could see her looking up from her deskat the Swami's face with an expression of fascinated skepticism. The Swami's back wastoward me, and on it hung flowing folds of a black cloak. His turban was white, exceptwhere it had rubbed against the back of his neck.A tall, dark, and handsome man will soon come into your life, he was intoning in thatsepulchral voice men habitually use in their dealings with the absolute.Sara's green eyes focused beyond him, on me, and began to twinkle.And there he is right now, she commented dryly. Mr. Kennedy, Personnel Director forComputer Research.The Swami whirled around, his heavy robe following the movement in a practiced swirl.His liquid black eyes looked me over shrewdly, and he bowed toward me as he vaguelytouched his chest, lips and forehead. I expected him to murmur, Effendi, or BwanaSahib, or something, but he must have felt silence was more impressive.I acknowledged his greeting by pulling down one corner of my mouth. Then I looked athis companion.The young lieutenant was standing very straight, very stiff, and a flush of pink wasstarting up from his collar and spreading around his clenched jaws to leave a semicircleof white in front of his red ears.Who are you? I asked the lieutenant.Lieutenant Murphy, he answered shortly, and managed to open his teeth a bare quarterof an inch for the words to come out. Pentagon! His light gray eyes pierced me to see ifI were impressed.I wasn't.Division of Matériel and Supply, he continued in staccato, as if he were imitating amachine gun.I waited. It was obvious he wasn't through yet. He hesitated, and I could see his Adam'sapple travel up above the knot of his tie and back down again as he swallowed. The pinkflush deepened suddenly into brilliant red and spread all over his face.Poltergeist Section, he said defiantly.What? The exclamation was out before I could catch it.He tried to glare at me, but his eyes were pleading instead.General Sanfordwaithe said you'd understand. He intended to make it matter of fact ina sturdy, confident voice, but there was the undertone of a wail. It was time I lent a handbefore his forces were routed and left him shattered in hopeless defeat.You're West Point, aren't you? I asked kindly.It seemed to remind him of the old shoulder-to-shoulder tradition. He straightened stillmore. I hadn't believed it possible.Yes, sir! He wanted to keep the gratitude out of his voice, but it was there. It did notescape my attention that, for the first time, he had spoken the habitual term of respect tome.Well, what do you have here, Lieutenant Murphy? I nodded toward the Swami whohad been wavering between a proud, free stance and that of a drooping supplicant. Thelieutenant, whose quality had been recognized, even by a civilian, was restored untohimself. He was again ready to do or die.According to my orders, sir, he said formally, you have requested the Pentagonfurnish you with one half dozen, six, male-type poltergeists. I am delivering the first ofthem to you, sir.Sara's mouth, hanging wide open, reminded me to close my own.So the Pentagon was calling me on my bluff. Well, maybe they did have something atthat. I'd see.* * * *