"Sure," the doctor said. "But it isn't serious. Just take these pills--one every two hours until they're gone--and you'll be rid of any effects within twenty-four hours." He went to a cabinet, fiddled around for a minute and came back with a small bottle containing six orange pills. They looked very large and threatening. "Fine," Malone said doubtfully. "You'll be all right," the doctor said, giving Malone a cheerful, confident grin. "Nothing at all to worry about." He loaded a hypojet and blasted something through the skin of Malone's upper arm. Malone swallowed hard. He knew perfectly well that he hadn't felt a thing, but he couldn't quite make himself believe it. "That'll take care of you for tonight," the doctor said. "Get some sleep and start in on the pills when you wake up, O.K.?" "O.K.," Malone said. It was going to make waking up something less than a pleasure, but he wanted to get well, didn't he? Of course he did. If that Cadillac thought it was going to beat him.... "You can stand up now," the doctor said. "O.K.," Malone said, trying it. "Thanks, doctor. I--" * * * * * There was a knock at the door. The doctor jerked his head around. "Who's that?" he said. "Me," a bass voice said, unhelpfully. The Emergency Room door opened a crack and a face peered in. It took Malone a second to recognize Bill, the waffle-faced cop who had picked him up next to the lamp post three years or so before. "Long time no see," Malone said at random. "What?" Bill said, and opened the door wider. He came in and closed it behind him. "It's O.K., Doc," he said to the attendant. "I'm a cop." "Been hurt?" the doctor said. Bill shook his head. "Not recently," he said. "I came to see this guy." He looked at Malone. "They told me you were still here," he said. "Who's they?" Malone said. "Outside," Bill said. "The attendants out there. They said you were still getting stitched up." "And quite right, too," Malone said solemnly. "Oh," Bill said. "Sure." He fished in his pockets. "You dropped your notebook, though, and I came to give it back to you." He located the object he was hunting for and brought it out with the triumphant gesture of a man displaying the head of a dragon he has slain. "Here," he said, waving the book. "Notebook?" Malone said. He stared at it. It was a small looseleaf book bound in cheap black plastic. "We found it in the gutter," Bill said. Malone took a tentative step forward and managed not to fall. He stepped back again and looked at Bill scornfully. "I wasn't even in the gutter," he said. "There are limits." "Sure," Bill said. "But the notebook was, so I brought it along to you. I thought you might need it or something." He handed it over to Malone with a flourish.