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defined . . ."
    "Please, no psychiatric rubbish, Loomis. Just tell me about his behavior in plain terms."
    "In plain terms? He has done nothing, to our direct knowledge, that would indicate anything else but normality."
    " Direct knowledge?"
    "Judge Christopher," Loomis said, rising to his feet and distractedly running his fingers over the red and beige bound legal volumes on the judge's shelves, "there have been some peculiar and unpleasant occurrences at Smith's Grove in the last six months. Particularly in the juvenile ward."
    The judge leaned forward. "Like what?"
    "Well, first of all, you have to understand that as Michael is by far—maybe eight or nine years—the youngest patient in the ward, he would ordinarily be the subject of a great deal of bullying, yes?"
    "I should imagine so."
    "Well, there hasn't been any attempt whatsoever. Not so much as a pinch."
    The magistrate stroked his cheek. "And what do you make of that?"
    "The same thing you do, I'm sure. They're afraid of him. I have seen him turn the hardest delinquent in the ward to stone with a stare."
    The judge digested it. "And this is all you have to say? You feel this is sufficient reason for me to extend his incarceration . . ."
    "Then there was the matter of Gilden, the trustee. Gilden is known around the ward for his pranks. The children love him; he's the only breath of fresh air in the place. One day, about a month after Michael's arrival, old Gilden played one of his harmless practical jokes on the boy—one I've seen countless times."
    "What was that?"
    "Oh, he loosened the cap on the salt shaker, so that when Michael salted his dinner, the contents of the shaker fell into his food. As usual, it got a big laugh. It has become practically an initiation ceremony for the youngsters at the hospital.''
    "And . . ."
    "Michael didn't think it was funny."
    "What did he do?"
    "Nothing, at the time. But that night, Gilden came down with a case of cramps so severe he had to have his stomach pumped. It was analyzed as food poisoning."
    "But you think . . . ?"
    "Yes, though I don't know how the boy might have gotten to the kitchen or what he could have used. The juvenile ward is separated from the kitchen by a series of guarded or locked passages."
    "I see. Anything else?"
    "Nothing quite as tangible. But the other boys in my charge have become . . . well, rather restless since Michael's arrival. Like a herd of cattle that instinctively feels the presence of wolves out there in the darkness. They always seem to be on the verge of bolting. Stampeding."
    The judge looked at him. "Dr. Loomis, I think you know how profoundly unnerved this matter has made me, and how desperately interested I am in seeing Michael treated and released. I'm not overly impressed by the observations you've made this morning, and it's only your reputation that keeps me from making some rather critical remarks. Now, I want to know if the boy sticks to his story, understands what he did, feels remorseful, feels purged of the murderous hatred he described to us at the hearing, that sort of thing."
    "Judge," said Loomis, collapsing into a leather chair, "the boy's story and attitude haven't changed a whit since the hearing, though I have spent nearly two hours a day with him every day for six months. I have nothing to go on but my experience and my hunches, and I tell you out of the depths of all I have learned and observed in fifteen years of exploration of the human mind, Michael Myers may be the most dangerous person I have ever handled."
    Loomis's crystal blue eyes locked with Christopher's and held them for a long moment. Then the judge pulled his gaze away and quaffed down the rest of his port nervously. "Damn it, Loomis, I cannot run my court on hunches, hearsay, coincidences, or anything but hard evidence. So unless you can come up with something , something he says, something he does, I am going to seriously entertain the boy's release the next time you appear before me. Is that