Benton began to sweat again. His thoughts, as well as the capers of the white needles--which jumped every time Urei's scanner saw the words Eastern Alliance--weren't conducive to the maintenance of a philosophic attitude. He was, moreover, developing an acute case of jumping claustrophobia. Not only were the ceiling and the control panel menacing him, but the other three walls had definitely moved in on him. Urei, he remembered, was also back of those walls; he shuddered. There was a long corridor through which they had brought their apparatus to the control room, and from the time they had entered it they had been surrounded by Urei. Traversing that corridor now would be worse than walking the proverbial last mile to the electric chair. * * * * * Benton hadn't felt bad on the way inside; his mind had been too full of the forthcoming test to feel any sensations. Now, however, his foreboding was back, a thousand times stronger. And there was no choice but to endure it until Dr. Albie had finished. Urei certainly wouldn't permit them to leave while there were still some papers to be scanned. By staying, Benton might get out with his memory intact--a slim hope--but it wouldn't be a good policy to call attention to himself by persuading the master physicist to leave. Nor did it occur to him to leave alone. Eventually the experiment ended. Dr. Albie laid the last newspaper on the pile on the floor and turned with a smile. "That's the crop," he said cheerfully. "Satisfied?" Benton forced a smile in return. "My morbid imagination," he said; "let's pack up and go get a drink." He carefully disconnected the thought detectors, keeping his hands away from the knobs which reset the red needles, and snapped the lids over the cases. The doctor picked up his pile of newspapers and dumped them in a refuse can, then helped with the cases. Benton didn't speak as they loaded them in the station wagon; he was anxious to get away from Urei before trusting himself. The doctor apparently noticed nothing wrong in Benton's manner which couldn't be accounted for by a feeling of chagrin that he had caused the eminent physicist to waste most of the day proving that he had imagined something. Dr. Albie, therefore, occupied himself with conversation calculated to put him at ease and make him forget the whole thing. The station wagon pulled up before the laboratory where they had borrowed the detectors. Benton set the brakes and reached back for the nearest case. He opened the lid, glanced briefly at the dial, and closed it again. He passed it to the doctor and reached quickly for the next. He repeated the operation and grabbed feverishly for the next. This one he placed beside him on the seat. Then he reached deliberately for the fourth and last of the cases. He raised the lid slowly, holding his breath. Then he closed the lid and breathed a deep sigh. "Anything wrong?" asked the doctor. "You look pale."