"That's alright," Mitchell said quickly. "You can bring along Colonel Carson." "But he won't like you fixing me up more." "But he can't stop me! Not if you want me to do it. Now listen to me--I want you to come right on over here, El." "If you say so," Macklin said uncertainly. * * * * * Mitchell opened the door on the first knock. Macklin stood in the doorway, looking uncertain and ill at ease. Carson stood behind his left shoulder, looking actively belligerent. "Come in," Mitchell said. "I have the injection ready for you, Doctor." "Now you aren't going to 'cure' me?" Macklin said in concern. "This is just going to help ease my mind?" "Of course," the biologist said soothingly. Colonel Carson lunged forward, mouth opening ominously. Mitchell winked at him broadly. Carson stopped in confusion and studied Mitchell's face. He essayed a second wink. Carson relaxed. Mitchell picked up the hypo of colorless carrier fluid from the interestingly stained work table. "One thing first, Dr. Macklin. I'll have to have your signed release for this treatment. It specifies that your intelligence will probably be affected in this effort to keep your head from troubling you. Carson can witness it." "Sure," Macklin said. "I guess that's okay. If you say so." The colonel grinned, his face hot and shiny. "I'm sure it will be fine, Doctor." Macklin looked at the officer with almost a trace of suspicion, then accepted the sheet of typescript and the ballpoint pen from Mitchell. Laboriously he affixed his signature. Mitchell had the mathematician take a seat and pressed the needle directly into the neck area. "Ouch!" Macklin said. Mitchell stood back and exhaled. "It should take effect shortly," the biologist said. "Good," Carson said.... The cylinders of the electric clock said 4:35:00 A.M. Macklin was playing with his hands and their shadows in front of his face. "How long will this stage last, Dr. Mitchell?" Colonel Carson said in concern. "Indefinitely. This is the last stage. The circulatory system of his brain has been relaxed to the point where he has about the I.Q. of a turnip." Carson steeled himself. "_So_, doctor! You're nothing but a dirty Lux!" "No, Colonel. I've never even seen Luxemburg. My reason for doing this to Dr. Macklin were entirely patriotic ... or, at least, sympathetic." "Tell that to the hangman! I'll see you tried for treason." "Look at him, Colonel. He is certainly no longer legally responsible. He has the strength of a grown man and the intellect of an amoeba. It would be impossible to keep him alive either under sedation or in a padded cell. Even if Mrs. Macklin still refuses her consent--and I don't think she will when she sees him in this bad a state--you can go over her head and get permission for Ferris and myself to administer our antitoxin to destroy the pituitrin-absorbing virus colony in his cerebrum." Carson looked dazed. "I--I'll call her."