Crayley's nerves tightened as the minutes slipped away. Would that fool Greene never step away from the control board, even for a minute? Why didn't he shut the damned thing off? He finally gave up and forced himself to relax. It was too late now. He'd have to talk fast. "Look!" one of the men snapped. He was pointing at one of the screens. Right on schedule, the waldo's arm reached up, grabbed the regulator coil housing, and ripped it off. There was an excited babble of voices, and Crayley forced himself to look as flabbergasted as the rest. The hand dropped down again to the ready position. Crayley turned to Greene and started to say something that would keep the board's mind on the sabotage track, but he noticed that everyone was looking at the screen again. He swiveled his head around. The secondary hand had lifted into the air. It extended its forefinger and made meaningless motions. Crayley's jaw muscles tightened. What the devil did it mean? How had _that_ got on the tape? The hand dropped. There came a faint chime which signaled the end of the tape. "Let's run through that again," said Fenwick Greene, an odd note in his voice. Crayley didn't understand. Had the shrewd, calculating eyes of Fenwick Greene read meaning into that meaningless movement? Again the hand lifted into the air, extended a finger, and moved it. Then it dropped. Crayley started to move his own hand, and stopped it in mid-air. He knew in that instant what the gesture was. The rest were talking, buzzing among themselves; no one was looking at him yet. Only Fenwick Greene gave him a short, sharp glance. Greene ran the tape back through for a third replay, and watched the hand lift again. Crayley stared at it as if hypnotized. His mind was a mass of self-hatred. Fool! Fool! _Clumsy fool!_ This was it; this was the end of everything. It wouldn't take them long now--they'd at least have enough evidence to use a lie probe on him. Someone would see it. Someone would see how Lewis Crayley's subconscious mind had betrayed him when he'd made the recording. Fenwick Greene saw it. His eyes moved from the screen to Crayley's face. "You," he said very softly. "You're the only one who has one." And Crayley knew he was right. If there had been a head on the waldo, they'd have understood instantly. The finger was stroking an invisible mustache.