"So much so," the general said, "That we'll have to leave with it immediately." He stuffed the negatives and composite into a briefcase. They shook hands, exchanged a few more congratulatory words, then stepped out the door. Beyond them, he saw the alienist, Major Elliston, at the end of the hall. They shut the door quietly and Martin stared at it, a faint crease between his eyes. He licked his lips, swallowed once or twice and drew a deep, shaky breath. * * * * * The door opened and the major came in. He looked curiously about the room. "Had the radio on?" he asked. "An awful lot of conversation in here, it seemed." Martin sank into the chair, looking over at the sparkling pitcher of cool water on the sidetable. "Funny you should ask that," he said vaguely. "Didn't you recognize--" "Better get ready for the big brass," the major interrupted. "And for God's sake, if you insist on that story about being hypnotized, at least make it a little more plausible than the one you told me--" He stopped and looked out the window. "Here they come now." Martin whirled and stared out the green-tinted window overlooking the runway. A red and blue jet streaked along, wheels down, hit, bounced and braked to a stop. It wheeled about, flashing under the late sun, and rolled up to the parking strip. "Another courier ship!" Martin murmured. "But, I don't--" "Another--" the major looked curiously at him. "What do you mean, 'another courier ship'? That's the only one today--and one's too many, if you ask me." Dry tongue scraping over dry lips, Martin stared at him, then back to the familiar red and blue jet. He swung and looked down the line of parked jets, straining to see the other red and blue which had landed over an hour ago. There was no red and blue jet there. "Here they come now," the major muttered. "Holy cow! Saunders, Under-Secretary to the old man, no less. And General Brereton--G2." He turned to Martin. "Better give it to them straight--" He broke off, seeing Martin's burning eyes in his drawn gray face, hearing the sudden strange rattling breath as he pawed weakly through the empty desk drawer. "Negatives. Composite," Martin croaked. "Gone. _They_ took them, and I never guessed!" His hands trailed limply and he fell across the desk, bounced and rolled onto the floor. With a single bound the major was at his side. "Good God! It's unbelievable!" he gasped. He stared in horror at the dry lips, the swollen black tongue. In the space of seconds the hard young man was a limp scarecrow whose lips cracked and moved in a dry-as-dust whisper. The major bent his ear close to the withered mouth, listening. "Water." The words were faint in his ear. "For heaven's sake--water." The major reached up and lifted the big pitcher of cool water off the sidetable. "Here, colonel, drink. Here's all the water you could want." But already, it was too late.