"But a close friend of the late Mr. Janson claims that he _did_ secretly enter the Beller laboratories of his own free will shortly before his death of natural causes, was reanimated, and suffered such mental disturbance afterward that he took his own life." Harker said quietly, "It's obvious that one party is lying, isn't it? Our records indicate that no such person ever entered the labs for treatment. The burden of proof, I believe, rests with the other party." "We have only your word for this," Vorys went on obstinately. "And you are not even under oath. Will you make these records of yours available for public inspection?" "It would be against our policy." "We could subpoena the records," Vorys warned. Harker shrugged. "That's within your rights, of course, I admit. But exposure of the names of our patients would probably have adverse effects on them, pathologically and otherwise." "That sounds very good, Mr. Harker. But it could also be an excuse for hiding something." Resisting the impulse to lose his temper--for Vorys was obviously deliberately baiting him--Harker said, "I believe it would be possible to grant you and your three colleagues access to our records, to prove the fraudulent nature of the Janson matter. But public exposure of the names would not be necessary, would it?" "Quite possibly not. Thank you, Mr. Harker. We will recess for one hour now." As soon as Harker had left the stand, Mart Raymond approached him and said, "Things are getting rough, eh?" Harker nodded. "Vorys and Brewster are out for our scalps. The American-Conservatives must be preparing to come down hard." "I'm sorry about letting that statistic slip yesterday, Jim--" "Forget it. It had to come out sooner or later, and maybe if we had announced it at the start we wouldn't be having so much trouble now. Well, it couldn't be helped. Let's go get some lunch." As they rode downward in the gravshaft toward the hotel dining room, Harker said, "Exactly how close _are_ you to getting the bugs out of the process?" Raymond looked vague. "A week, a month, maybe a year. We know what causes the mental breakdown--most of the time. It's a matter of hormone impurity, generally. Of course, in some cases the brain suffers severe damage in the process of dying, and we'll never be able to lick that any more than we can revive a man who's been blown apart by dynamite. But I'm pretty sure we can lick the defects in our own system soon." "And what probability of success would you predict after that?" Raymond shrugged and said, "Who knows? Nine out of ten successes? Ninety-seven out of a hundred? Until we have ten or twenty thousand case histories behind us, our statistics don't mean a hoot." Harker nodded thoughtfully. The meal was a quiet one; neither man said much. Harker was going back over the morning's session, trying to pick out the phrases the press would leap on.