There were steaks in the larder, and potatoes. Waverill grumbled at the wait while Murdoch cooked. The older man still acted a little drowsy, but had a good appetite. After eating he wanted to rest again. Murdoch wandered some more, then forced himself to sit down in the library and pretend to study. He went over his plans again and again. They were tenuous enough. He had to get a drop of Waverill's blood sometime within the next day or two, and get it past the barrier. Then he had to get it into the ship and, once away from Ganymede, inoculate himself. The problem of Waverill didn't worry him. The drowsiness would have to be coped with, but based on the time-table Waverill's symptoms would give him, he should be able to set up a flight plan which would allow him to nap. The time dragged agonizingly. He had two more drinks during the "afternoon", took another workout and a couple of turns around the building, and finally saw the sunlamps dimming. After that there was a time of lying on his bunk trying to force himself to relax. Finally he did sleep. III He was awake again with the first light; got up and wandered restlessly into the pantry. In a few minutes he heard Waverill stirring. "Murdoch!" came the older man's voice. Murdoch went to him. "Yes, sir. I was just going to get breakfast." "I can see the light!" "You--that's wonderful, sir!" "I can see the light! Dammit, where are you? Take me outside!" "It's no brighter out there, sir." Murdoch was dismayed. He'd counted on another day before Waverill's sight began to return; with a chance to arrange a broken drinking glass, a knife in Waverill's way, something to bring blood in an apparent accident. Now.... "Take me outside!" "Yes, sir." Murdoch, his mind spinning, guided the older man. The door slid open for them and Waverill crowded through. As he stepped on the gravel with his bare feet, he said, "Ouch! Damn it!" "Step lightly, sir, and it won't hurt." Murdoch had a sudden wild hope that Waverill would cut his feet on a sharp pebble. But there were no sharp pebbles; they were all rounded; and the light gravity made it even more unlikely. Waverill raised his head and swung it to the side. "I can see spots of light up there." "The sunlamps, sir. They're getting brighter." "I can see where they are." The older man's voice was shaky. He looked toward Murdoch. "I can't see you, though." "It'll come back gradually, sir. Why don't you have breakfast now?" Waverill told him what to do with breakfast. "I want to stay out here. How bright is it now? Is it like full daylight yet?" "No, sir. It'll be a while yet. You'll be able to feel it on your skin." Murdoch was clammy with the fear that the other's sight would improve too fast. He looked around for some sharp corner, some twig he could maneuver the man into. He didn't see anything. "What's that sweet smell?" Waverill wanted to know. "Flowers, sir. There's a blossoming hedge around the walkways."