For a moment there was no sign of Krome. Then off to one side, over near the entrance where the patent bundles were kept, a foot appeared from the ceiling. It moved around as if seeking a firm place to stand, and then quickly withdrew back into the ceiling. It cautiously reappeared a moment later, closer to the huge pillars that stretched down to the floor. Again it sought a footing. I heaved a sigh of relief. Krome evidently knew where he was, and was taking no chances. As I stared the foot vanished for the second time. It came into view again an instant later, this time about eighteen inches from the arch at the summit of the pillars. It flitted around and found the pillar. Hands flashed through the ceiling as Krome paddled himself over, and then carefully lowered himself out of the ceiling and into the arch at the top. Large portions of him were now in plain view. The uproar from the floors above had been steadily increasing in volume. The people in the Search Room were glancing questioningly at one another. And just as Krome was about to complete his transfer to the pillar one of the patent stenographers saw him. Her screams all but shattered every window in the block-long room. Everybody froze. All eyes followed the stenographer’s hand that was pointing to where Krome was just beginning to descend, half in and half out of the pillar. A long moment of stark silence gave a kind of funeral dirge significance to what followed. There were only two exits. I was smart this time. I stood off to one side as the terrified occupants of the room leaped over the search tables like gazelles fleeing from a lion. Chairs were crushed to pulpwood. Many people had been back in the stacks when the commotion started, and were now emerging with their arms loaded with bundles of patents. Instantly the air was thick with flying documents. I couldn’t help but admire the consummate skill with which Krome descended the column. His rear end protruded as he stepped slowly down. Every four or five feet, he’d stop, turn around, and thrust his head out to make sure where he was. Then he’d disappear for a moment, out would come his backside again, and the slow descent would resume. There was a revolving fan fastened to the pillar about seven feet above the floor. I watched, fascinated, as Krome got closer and closer to it. Finally fan and fanny met. The blades flowed into long slivers of metal that shot across the room and _spanged_ off the walls. The motor, relieved of its load, began to race faster and faster.