The effect of the drugs was, in most cases, highly specific. One might make a normally brave man a craven coward; laboratory tests on that one had presented the interesting spectacle of terrified cats running from surprised, but by no means displeased, experimental mice. Another drug reversed this picture, and made the experimental mice mad with power. They attacked cats in battalions or singly, cheering and almost waving large flags as they went over the top, completely foolhardy in the presence of any danger whatever. Others made man abnormally suspicious and still others disassociated judgment to the point where all decisions were made completely at random. The FBI had a large file on psychodrugs, Malone knew. But he didn't need the file to see what was coming. He asked the question anyhow, just for the record: "What particular psychodrug was this one?" "One of the judgment-warpers," Burris said. "Haenlingen's Mixture; it's more or less a new development, but the Russians probably know as much about it as we do. In large doses, the drug affects even the automatic nervous system and throws the involuntary functions out of whack; but it isn't usually used in killing amounts." "And in the water cooler?" Malone asked. "There wasn't much of it," Burris said, "but there was enough. The technicians could be depended on to make a great many more mistakes than usual--just how many we can't determine, but the order of magnitude seems about right. It would depend on how much water each one of them drank, of course, and we haven't a chance of getting anything like a precise determination of that now." "Oh," Malone said. "But it comes out about right, doesn't it?" He felt hopeless. "Just about," Burris said cheerfully. "And since it was Brubitsch's job to change the cooler jug--" "Wait a minute," Malone said. "I think I see a hole in that." "Really?" Burris said. He frowned slightly. Malone nodded. "Sure," he said. "If any of the spies drank the water--their judgment would be warped, too, wouldn't it?" "So they didn't drink the water," Burris said easily. "How can we be sure?" Malone asked. Burris shrugged. "Why do we have to be?" he said. "Malone, you've got to stop pressing so hard on this." "But a man who didn't drink water all day would be a little conspicuous," Malone said. "After a while, anyhow." Burris sighed. "The man is a janitor, Kenneth," he said. "Do you know what a janitor is?" "Don't baby me," Malone snapped. Burris shrugged. "A janitor doesn't work in the office with the men," he said. "He can drink out of a faucet in the broom closet--or wherever the faucets might be. Nobody would notice. Nobody would think it odd." Malone said: "But--" and stopped and thought it over. "All right," he went on at last. "But I still insist--"