"Gods!" Eric exclaimed, with a startling vehemence. But this was a glorious place to work in! The best air in England! And the Bungalow had been an inspiration from on high! Far away from noise and interruption; and not merely for a few paltry hours. Great stretches of time to himself! Then you were so fit here. You slept. You had all your wits about you. As we knew, it was Hawkins's idea in the first place--that Eric should come down and rest. Well, now I was to hear something more about Hawkins. Hawkins was a kind of mascot. He not only was the best man they'd ever had in that chair at the University. He wasn't only a first-rate bacteriologist, and first-rate all-round man. There was something about Hawkins that struck fire out of other people. His rooms were a meeting-place for chaps keen about--well, about the things that matter. Hawkins gave a dinner at his club one night to some London University men and a couple of distinguished foreigners. "Of course, we talked shop. We argued and stirred one another up, and the sparks flew. When the rest had gone Hawkins and I stayed talking in the smoking-room. About an idea"--Eric looked round to see that the door was shut--"a new idea I was working at for dealing with cancer." "Dealing!" I echoed, leaning forward. "You mean curing?" "----I told Hawkins about an experiment I'd been making. As I've said, Hawkins is very intelligent. But he contested my conclusions. I grew hot. We argued. I told him more and more. Hawkins thought my experiments too rough-and-ready. Even if they weren't rough-and-ready, to be conclusive they must be tried on an extended scale. I stood up for the validity of tests, on a small scale, done with an infinity of care--a ruthless spending of the investigator rather than multiplication of the subject. All the same, I couldn't deny that precious time was being wasted and many lives. Hawkins was right. I did need a trained staff, and I needed--oh, masses of things I had not got, and had no prospect of getting. We had tried the forlorn hope of a Government grant--and failed. We agreed that, in working out an idea like mine, the crucial danger lay in premature publicity. We are in a cleft stick in these matters. Without the right people knowing, believing, helping, it is hard--pretty nearly impossible--to go forward. I sat, rather dejected, and stared at the fire. The smoking-room had been empty except for a little, dried-up old man, who was half asleep over the evening papers. A few minutes after Hawkins had gone out to pay his bill, the little old man waked up and went to a writing-table. In a half-minute or so I looked round, and he was standing quite near me, warming his back at the fire.