“Uh, hold it,” she said. “And this is?” She indicated Oversoul Seven who had entered diffidently behind George. George grinned, again engagingly. “Uh, my associate. I didn’t think you’d mind, but if you do, of course….” He’d asked Seven at the last moment. He still didn’t know why. And Seven hadn’t been included in the appointment.

Josephine Blithe stared hard at Seven, then smiled as if she meant it and said, “Okay, you can stay,” and George grinned inwardly, thinking that for some damn reason, everyone seemed to like Seven. Seven just nodded politely and sat down.

Then Josephine said to George, “There’s always the matter of confidentiality, of course.”

“Always,” George said, settling himself a bit more comfortably. Josephine seemed to shrink back slightly, a fact George noticed at once. What was the matter with her? he wondered, with slight irritation. Hadn’t she seen a man in shorts before?

“The patient you’re interested in is John Window. On the phone you didn’t tell me anything more. So suppose you fill me in?” Josephine said in a prim, distant voice.

“Hell, I was hoping you could fill me in,” George replied, lighting a cigarette. “I admit I’m stumped, or I wouldn’t be here. This guy thinks he’s Christ, right? Well, that’s one thing. But I’ve another problem, and before I tell you about it, I’d like to ask you a few rather off-beat questions.”

“Oh?” she said.

“Has this guy ever … healed anyone of anything? Hell, I don’t know any other way to put it,” George said, so embarrassed that he felt himself sweating more profusely than before.

“Healed anyone? Oh, that’s rich.” Her sudden laugh was so brittle and falsely brilliant that George almost leapt to his feet in alarm. She was terrified, the laugh told him that.

He was accustomed to people’s behavior under the stress of dental work. Some laughed one moment and were hysterical the next. And Josephine Blithe was laughing that kind of laugh. But why? And what was she frightened of? She caught herself, though, and went from the fake humor right into an equally fake simplistic explanation that anyone could see she didn’t believe herself.

“Oh, forgive me,” she said, daintily wiping away the tears of laughter with a linen handkerchief. “You’ve heard those delightful impossible stories! Honestly.” She leaned forward in her chair, smiling across the desk with assumed frankness. “In a place like this, the line between fact and fiction frequently gets confused,” stated Josephine in her brisk, professional manner. “People imagine things, of course. And with someone around who believes he’s Christ, well, the rumors fly. Suggestion is an important culprit in this respect, I’m afraid. But is that why you wanted to talk about John Window? He’s harmless enough, I assure you; in fact, he’s a custodian here….”