She looked horrified. "I'm afraid you don't take hints very well. I'm not interested in going anywhere with you. Actually, I'm going with Jack Slezak to see 'Nova of the Leprous Soul', and I might suggest a fit subject." She flounced out again and Whitemarsh felt lost. He tried to cheer himself with a book on _Hyper Plutonium Elements_. The transition took longer than Whitemarsh had bargained for. After the Laboratorians were re-educated, and a tiresome process it was, chemists went over the notebooks to look for inaccuracies, doubtful data was examined, all microfilms had to be edited and corrected; and they found that most of the chemicals developed at the laboratory in the past decade had been founded on doubtful data. But since all of them had passed the Development Group, Whitemarsh didn't think it was wise to try to recall them. But new products scheduled for release were re-examined and retested after the fundamental work on them was checked. Finally the problems were unscrambled and the laboratory began to run smoothly again. The research projects were reestablished and the work started out anew. Frayed tempers were soothed and the scientists finally got around to trusting each others' results again. The Laboratorians were now carefully but tactfully watched by the junior chemists who, in turn, were spending more time in the laboratories and less in their offices. When the new, sound results started grinding forth, Whitemarsh permitted himself a sigh of relief. Lunar Lab had lost its individuality, he admitted, even though the easy-going camaraderie he had noticed when he first came was also gone. The results of Lunar Research Lab of Interspatial were now as reliable as those of the _Campo Sano_ and _Roque_ laboratories back on Earth. But it had been a hard fight. None of the chemists ever stopped around his office any more for small talk about sports and politics. His secretary brought him coffee in his sanctum sanctorum and he did not find himself wandering around the laboratory as he had formerly done. When he did, there was usually a restrained silence and a suspicious neatness. Miss Chester was apparently irrevocably lost and there were rumors of an engagement with the brilliant Dr. Slezak. Though he had won the day, he had lost something too. The Lab was now able to turn out results, but Frank Whitemarsh had paid a personal price for its new efficiency. * * * * * Almost a year after taking over as Research Director, Sheridan, now a Vice President, brought him some news. "Get ready to pack, Frank," he told the younger man as they sat and smoked in the director's office watching the clouds moving over the Earth. "The Front Office like what I did?" asked Whitemarsh puffing on his pipe. "Well." There was a slight pause. "All the scientists on the board are behind you to a man. But the business men, the advertising boys and accountants, well ... you know how they are." "What's eating them?"