In the meantime, the testicular biopsies, in their fluid-filled bottles, were on their way to Tissue Path., to join those that Smith and his residents were already preparing from the convalescent ferrets. Speaking into Dictape machines, the junior residents described and numbered the specimens while deft-fingered girl technicians wrapped them in little packets and put those in tiny perforated boxes. They dropped the boxes into beakers filled with fixative which they then set up on the Technicon machines. The dials were set, the clock ticked, and hour by hour, as the timer clicked into the grooves of the wheel, the arms of the Technicon lifted, dangling their clusters of dripping boxes, turned like soldiers on parade, and dropped them again into the next beaker. On they went through the fixative that preserved the cells as they had been in life, the alcohols that slowly and carefully removed the water, the xylol that replaced the alcohol and, finally, the hardened shreds of tissue lay in melted paraffin, ready for the cutting. But first they had to be embedded in paper boats full of melted wax which, when it hardened, held them securely. Then, in millionths of a metre, the incredibly fine edge of the microtome sliced off a ribbon of tissue, as a bacon slicer cuts pork. The technician laid the ribbons on a bowl of warm water, separated off each individual slice with her needle and guided it on to a prepared glass slide which was then laid aside to dry. That was not all. Now the process had to be reversed, the paraffin removed with xylol, the xylol with alcohol, the alcohol with water, before the pale white dots of tissue could be stained. There was no way of hurrying the process. Chemicals need time to react, and time they took, regardless of our impatience. At last the blue color of the Hematoxylin and the red of the eosin had been added in their turn and taken up by the tissues; the protective balsam and the slip cover had been placed over the sections; the slides had hardened enough to be put under the microscope. With mounting excitement, Smith and his senior residents racked down the binocular microscopes to focus on the minute blue and red dots that lay beneath. Silently they looked, moving the slides jerkily but accurately with their fingers to view all the sections. Still silent, they swapped slides to check and re-check their findings. At last Smith straightened up and removed his spectacles. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He looked along the table at the three young men who had worked with him. "Any doubts about this?" he said. Three heads shook slightly. There was nothing to say. They were too tired for casual chatter. He pushed the Intercom switch. "Dr. Hallam. Smith calling." The sound came into the living room as we sat at midnight coffee. The rasping voice jarred us out of the apathy of exhaustion. "This is Hallam."