There was a dim light behind narrow leaded panes in the side door of the Sternwood mansion. I stopped the ground car under the porte-cochere and emptied my pockets out on the seat. The girl snored in the corner, her hands lying limp in her lap. I got out and rang the bell. Steps came slowly, as if from a long dreary distance. The door opened and the silvery robot butler looked out at me. The light from the hall reflected from his polished metal casing.
He said: "Good evening, sir," politely and looked past me at the ground car. His head swivelled back to look at my eyes.
"Is Mrs Regan in?"
"The General is frozen, I hope?"
"Yes, sir. We keep him chilled most of the time now."
"How about Mrs Regan's servitor?"
"It's here, sir."
"Better get her down here. The job needs a robot's touch. Take a look in the car and you'll see why."
He look a look in the car. He came back. "I see," he said, "The servitor is on its way down now."
"I'm sure the old machine will do right by her," I said.
"We all try to do right by her," he said.
"I guess you'll have had practice," I said.
He let that one go. "Well, good night," I said, "I'm leaving it in your hands."
"Very good, sir. May I call you a cab?"
"Absolutely not," I said. "As a matter of fact I'm not here. You're just seeing things."
He nodded sagely a time or two. I turned and walked down the driveway and out of the gates.