Tom shook his head. "Take me to the lab." "But--" "Shut up, Luke. I know what I'm doing." I wish I could have said the same for myself. In the lab, Tom surveyed ruefully the damage the fire and water had done. He stood for a long time staring at the spot on the wall where the painting had hung, then sighed and shook his head. I had the impression that he was sorry for the whole human race. "I want you to pick up all the scraps of paper that were on the big table," he said. "It doesn't matter if they are scorched or soaked. Enough will remain for me to reassemble my own equations that I developed from the painting. Bring these to the old lab. Then I want you to make certain that I have all the black coffee on hand I can drink. Then--" He hesitated. "Do you think they will be back?" he said at last. "I hope so." I said. I collected the scraps of paper and took them to the old lab and set up an electric coffee maker that would keep the black brew hot at all times. Digging a folding cot out of the basement, I put it across the door. Putting my gun within easy reach, I lay down on the cot. The last glimpse I had of Tom before I went to sleep, he was frowning at the pieces of paper on the table in front of him. With the bandages on his face, he looked like a mummy in grave clothes risen from the tomb to try to solve the riddle of the Sphinx, and not doing very well with the problem. During the night I awakened. Tom was still at the table. When morning came, he was still there, but his head was beginning to droop. When I tried to coax him to take a turn on the cot, he glared at me as if I were crazy. "I can't afford to sleep. Go get me some benezedrine." From the drug store, I called the hospital. "Miss Briscoe is very low," Dr. Crane told me. "How is my other patient?" "Alive," I answered. Returning to the lab with the benezedrine tablets, I didn't tell him about Ann. I spent the morning throwing out Herker and more inspectors from the insurance companies. I didn't want any of Long Jaw's pals to slip in under the pretense that they were insurance adjustors. In the late afternoon Tom yelled, "I've got it, Luke. Here! Get these items for me." Hastily scribbling what he wanted, he handed the slip of paper to me. "Burn up the road, Luke. Move!" I moved. When I returned with the parts he wanted, he got busy assembling the weirdest-looking gadget I have ever seen. It seemed to be electronic in nature but it also seemed to include elements that started where electronics left off. All night long, he continued to work on it. Dozing on my cot, I awakened once to find him pacing the floor. "Uh-huh," I thought. "He hasn't got all the bugs out of it yet." Sometime during the night the unlisted phone rang. "What the hell?" I wondered, getting up to answer it. Nobody knew this number. Dr. Crane was on the wire. "Miss Briscoe gave me this number," he said. "She asked me to call Mr. Calhoun and tell him that she needs him." "I'll tell him," I said.