"I am at the residence of Mr. Christopher Adams."
"The Mr. Adams who is with the Department of Galactic Investigation?"
"The same," said Sutton.
"Then," the robot said, "you are in Wisconsin."
"Bridgeport?" asked Sutton.
"It was on the Wisconsin River, on the north bank, a matter of seven miles above the junction with the Mississippi."
"But those rivers? I've never heard of them."
"You are near them now, sir. The Wisconsin flows into the Mississippi just below the point where you are now."
Sutton rose shakily and crossed the room, went out on the patio.
Adams was lighting up his pipe.