Mr. Martin has, in the years since he has been in the Belt, run up an enviable record, both as an insurance investigator and as a police detective, although his connection with the Planetoid Police is, necessarily, an unofficial one. Probably not since Sherlock Holmes has there been such mutual respect and co-operation between the official police and a private investigator. There was only one explanation, Stanton thought. Martin, too, had been treated by the Institute. His memory was still blurry and incomplete, he knew, but he did suddenly remember that a decision had been made for Martin to take the treatment. He chuckled a little at the irony of it. It looked as though they hadn't been able to make a superman of Martin, but they _had_ been able to make a normal and extraordinarily capable human being of him, he thought. Now it was Bart who was the freak, the odd one. _Turn about is fair play_, he thought. But somehow it didn't seem quite fair. He crumpled the newspaper, dropped it into a nearby waste chute, and walked on through the night toward the Neurophysical Institute. _FOURTH INTERLUDE_ "You understand, Mrs. Stanton," said the psychiatrist, "that a great part of Martin's trouble is mental as well as physical. Because of the nature of his ailment, he has withdrawn, pulled himself away from communication with others. If these symptoms had been brought to my attention earlier, the mental disturbance might have been more easily analyzed and treated." "I suppose so. I'm sorry, Doctor," said Mrs. Stanton. Her manner betrayed weariness and pain. "It was so ... so difficult. Martin could never talk very well, you know, and he just talked less and less as the years went by. It was so slow and so gradual that I never really noticed it." _Poor woman_, the doctor thought. _She's not well, herself. She should have married again, years ago, rather than force herself to carry the whole burden alone. Her role as a doting mother hasn't helped either of the boys to overcome the handicaps that were already present._ "I've honestly tried to do my very best with Martin," Mrs. Stanton went on unhappily. "And so has Bart, I know. When they were younger, Bart used to take him out all the time. They went everywhere together. Of course, I don't expect Bart to do that so much any more. He has his own life to live. He can't take Martin out on dates or things like that. He has interests outside the home now, like other boys his age. That's only normal. But when he's at home, Bart helps me with Martin all the time." "I understand," said the psychiatrist. _This is no time to tell her that Bartholomew's tests indicate that he has subconsciously resented Martin's presence for a long time_, he thought. _She has enough to worry about._