prodding the mouse with it.
    'Did you ever see anything like this before?' he asked me.
    I shook my head. 'I hope I never see anything like it again.'
    He turned the mouse over on to its back, and it lay there squeaking with its feet 
waving in the air. Its abdomen was even worse than its back. Below its ribcage, its body 
went into insect-like folds, like a pale caterpillar or a wood-louse. Its hind claws had 
saw-tooth edges, and moved with a repulsive jerking motion.
    'Well,' said Dan, 'what the hell do we make of you, little fellow?'
    The mouse squeaked again, and twisted its head from side to side.
    'Would you go get me that wire cage over by the window-ledge?' asked Dan. 'I'll keep 
an eye on our friend here and make sure he doesn't make a run for it.'
    'He's no friend of mine,' I said, crossing the laboratory.
    It was only when I was on my way back with the cage that 1 glanced at the culture 
dish in which Dan had left a sizeable sample of the Bodines' water. There were a couple 
of mouse droppings beside it, and it was almost empty.
    I handed Dan the cage. I didn't know what to say. But when he'd carefully lifted the 
mouse in through the wire door, balanced almost lifeless on the end of the plastic ruler, 
I cleared my throat and said: 'Dan?'
    
    
    Two
    
    I dialed the Bodines' house four times, but the phone rang and rang and there was no 
reply. I checked the clock on the wall. It was way after nine now, and there should have 
been somebody there. After all, it was Oliver's bedtime, and even if Jimmy and Alison 
weren't at home, they would have had to bring in a babysitter. I waited and waited, but 
at last I had to put down the phone and shake my head.
    'They're not in, or they're not answering.'
    Dan was still inspecting the scaley mouse in the wire cage, watching it intently as 
it tried to pull itself from one side of its prison to the other. It was so grotesque 
that I had to look away, but I could still hear its scales and its insect-like claws 
scraping on the wire.
    'In that case,' said Dan, 'I guess we'd better get out there and warn them in person. 
I can't tell for certain if the water's done this, not until I've made some tests. Maybe 
it has nothing to do with it at all. But we don't want to take the slightest risk. Not 
where people's lives are concerned.
    'I'll drive you,' I told him.
    We took a last queasy look at the mouse and then we locked the laboratory and went 
downstairs. We crossed the mall at a fast walk, breaking into a trot as we neared the 
station wagon. It was so cold now that the windshield was iced over with white stars and 
fingers of frost, and the hood shone a dull misted green in the light from the 
streetlamps. I unlocked the doors and we climbed in. Shelley, looking very haughty and 
put out, climbed over on to the back seat.
    'It smells like cats and putty in here,' said Dan, as I started up the engine. 'I 
don't know how you can stand it.'
    'At least they're honest smells,' I told him, backing up and then pulling out into 
the main street.
    'What's a dishonest smell?' asked Dan.
    I drove up to the top of the mall, turned right, and then joined Route 202 at the 
sloping corner by the cemetery. The grave- stones looked whiter and colder than ever as I 
took a left and headed north. Dan took a notepad out of his coat pocket and started to 
jot down incomprehensible hieroglyphs with a blunt chewed pencil.
    'Supposing it mas the water?' I asked him.
    He looked at me, his face patterned with shadows. 'Supposing it was?'
    'Well-if it does that to a mouse-what's it going to do to a human being?'
    'I don't have any idea. Sometimes small creatures like mice and rats are affected by 
chemicals or organisms when humans aren't. Look at the whole saccharin affair. Saccharin 
was found to cause cancer when given to laboratory rats in fairly heavy doses, but that's 
not indisputable proof that it has the same effect on humans. The same goes for many 
micro-organisms, which can maim or kill rodents, but don't harm people at all.'
    I turned off right on to Route 109. The road was dark and strewn with dead leaves, 
and already coated with a white frosting of sugary-looking ice.
    'I just wish they'd answered the phone,' I said. 'Then I would have been sure they 
were still okay. I mean, they should have answered the phone.'
    It took five or ten minutes of driving through the dark and the cold to reach the 
Bodine house. I blew my horn a couple of times as we turned up the driveway, but the old, 
square house seemed to be deserted. There were no lights at any of the windows, only an 
outside light on the verandah, and none of the living-room drapes had been drawn. I 
pulled the station wagon to a halt, and we climbed out. Shelley gratefully returned to 
his front seat, revelling in the warmth left by Dan's backside.
    'Jimmy!' I called. 'Alison!'
    There was no reply. The house and its grounds were silent, except for the occasional 
scuttling of dry leaves. I walked around the side to the back yard, but that, too, was 
deserted. Jimmy's rake rested where he had left it that afternoon, against the 
brown-painted weatherboarding. The screen door creaked and banged, creaked and banged.
    'They could have gone out for the evening,' suggested Dan. 'Maybe they're staying 
overnight some place.'
    'They didn't mention it to me.'
    'People don't have to ask your permission to go out for the evening, you know. You're 
only the plumber.'
    I wasn't in the mood for humour. There was something unnaturally creepy about finding 
the Bodine house empty. The windows were as dark as old men's eyes, and the wind hummed 
in the telephone wires. Behind me, Dan coughed and shuffled his feet in the leaves.
    I went up the back steps to the kitchen door. I held back the screen and tried the 
main door handle, and to my surprise I found that was unlocked, too. I opened up a little 
way, and called: 'Jimmy? Alison?' into the chilly gloom of the kitchen.
    Dan said: 'You're wasting your time, Mason. They're just not here. Maybe they went 
over to the darks' place at Washington.'
    I strained my eyes to see through the shadows. I could see the edge of the kitchen 
table, and the corner of the pine hutch, but it didn't look like there was anybody there. 
I called: 'Jimmy?' louder, but still there was no reply.
    'It's unlike Jimmy to leave the place unlocked,' I remarked.
    Dan shrugged. 'Maybe he forgot. Maybe he thought he'd locked up and he hadn't.'
    'I don't know,' I said slowly. 'That doesn't seem like Jimmy at
    all.'
    I opened the kitchen door wider and stepped inside. The kitchen was very dark, and 
odd shadows clung in every corner. I heard something squeak and I froze for a moment, 
wondering if it was one of those hideous scaley mice, but then it squeaked again and I 
realized it was only a floorboard. One of the faucets in the kitchen sink was dripping 
steadily, making a flat plip-plapping noise. I went on tippy-toes across the room,