"You don't think he . . ." Shea couldn't finish the question.
"No, I do not." Chalmers collected himself with a visible effort. "I think it probable that Krishna—or his priests; they may have been magicians who resented the competition—sent our old adversary back to his home, as he seems to have sent us to ours. And oh, Harold, I am mightily glad he did!"
"You can say that for me, too." Shea turned to watch Belphebe and Florimel, chatting as merrily as though they had seen each other only last week. "So Florimel didn't get herself lost by trying to work a syllogismobile spell on her own?"
"It would seem not. Certainly Malambroso appeared in my house for the purpose of kidnapping her, but before he did, he no doubt took advantage of the opportunity to update himself on our researches. Thank Heaven he is so untidy that he did not bother to clean up the evidence, or we should never have been able to track him!"
"But we did, and we won Florimel back, and we're home. Just to be on the safe side, though, Doc—maybe you'd better give her the full syllogismobile course, so that if somebody kidnaps her again, she has a fair chance of escaping."
"An excellent thought." Chalmers gazed at his wife, but his face was grim. "I assure you, Harold, I intend to guard her very closely from now on! She shall never be stolen from me again!"
Shea glanced uneasily from husband to wife, and hoped Chalmers was right.