than you do falling down. Know your victim before you have an accident, and then hit him for all he will pay and hit him quick⁠—the way I did you.” She chuckled. “My commission for today is one thousand and twenty points. Here, sign my slip, please.”

Mark signed. It was a cheap price to pay for the fact that life was no longer pointless. He decided he’d try to gather a credit of one hundred thousand points.

He worked on bigger stuff. He didn’t try just everybody. He picked his signers with care. He slept until nine every morning and he and Penelope played two-handed bridge at a tenth of a point a point until midnight. He felt sorry for the poor suckers who had to get out at sunup and tread the sidewalks until dark to get enough points to satisfy Central. They were working like slaves, while he was living the life of Point-a-Minute Charlie.

It was a lovely existence. He forgot about Penelope’s slip for thirty-five thousand. He could almost pay it off anyway. Then came the day when he pulled his grand coup.

He spent a week planning it, with Penelope’s shrewd advice. He remembered what she had said about the man on the ladder in the nineteen-forties. He sandpapered his back and painted an irregular spot with merthiolate and iodine, and practiced twisting his back until it looked out of shape. Then he went out and watched for an absentminded, nervous, excitable-looking man to try his next effort on.

Penelope’s biggest advice was, “Preparation is half the points,” so it was three days before Mark found the right person. After he found him it was very simple. He signaled Penelope to follow, and then he walked behind the man until they came to a high curb.

Mark moved out to the left. The man started to step up on the curb. Mark darted across in front of the man just as the man raised his foot.