ready for his patrons. He walked into the dim studio, took a gyroscope from a tabouret and spun it on a little standard.
Valeska's look followed him. His eyes questioned her. She drew down her fair brows and watched the toy, supported seemingly immune from the power of gravitation as it revolved slowly in its orbit, its wheel flying too fast, too silently, for its motion to be perceived.
She spoke timidly. "Human emotions—the downward pull—governed and held in equilibrium by—"
"The trained mind, the intellect," he suggested. "Very well, Valeska. Very well, indeed! You're coming on." He yawned. "Well, now for work! It's dangerous pushing analogies too far."
"Well, about that young man who came yesterday?"
"Oh, yes. I didn't have time to see him. Besides, it's time you were taking some cases off my hands, and he didn't seem too anxious. I know you prefer men to women." He watched her from the tail of his eye.
"I don't!" she protested, blushing.
Astro seemed pleased. "Well, it's agreeable for them, at any rate. What was the story?"
"Why, it's most romantic! It's perfectly ridiculous, though! He wants you to find a strange woman whom he saw on the subway."
"Why strange?"
"Oh, strange enough in every way. And it's a hard problem, too."
"First, who is he?"
