There were papers everywhere. And an empty mailbag dangled limply from an overhead light, looking startlingly like the victim of an over-wrought hangman. One man sat on the floor in front of a pile of thousands of newly-arrived applications. He was laughing insanely and tossing repeated handfuls of applications high overhead. Petitions, checks, notarized oaths, drawings, and fragments of applications slithered through the air like snowflakes in a blizzard. Krome had passed through, all right. I walked amidst the bedlam unnoticed seeking some sign of Krome. I couldn’t figure out where he had gone. Then suddenly I had it--his two-thirty appointment with the Commissioner. I jumped to a window and looked out. My heart almost stopped beating at what I saw. A girl was walking away from me along the sidewalk, her hips swinging up and down like the ends of a seesaw. Krome was plowing along right behind her, completely out of control, getting closer all the time. He was tilted forward pawing at the ground with his hands, now submerged to his neck, now above ground to his ankles. The girl had ignored his first frantic warnings, so Krome shouted again. She threw an annoyed glance back over one shoulder and--the seesaw froze. Krome churned closer and closer. My heart was in my mouth. I had no idea what would happen when the diving suit bumped into a live human being. I stopped breathing. Closer and closer! Then just as a collision seemed inevitable Krome executed a rather neat surface dive into the pavement which carried him safely and spectacularly underneath her feet. Almost instantly he reappeared on the other side doing a strong overhand stroke which quickly put a safe distance between himself and the grievously threatened young lady. She toppled over in a dead faint. I dashed into the next building, into an office where a short, heavyset man stood bending over a huge desk. I recognized him in a flash. The Commissioner of Patents! At the Commissioner’s desk side sat a man in uniform--a two-star general. It added up. I thought fast. Krome--the Commissioner--the general. I cleared my throat as they looked up blankly. “I beg your pardon,” I said politely. “I’m Mr. Saddle, Dr. Marchare’s attorney in the diving suit case. Mr. Krome suggested I be here during his appointment on this matter.” “Really?” grunted the Commissioner. “And where is Mr. Krome?” “He said he’d be passing through any moment now,” I said hurriedly. Just then Krome walked in through the north wall. Fortunately neither the general nor the Commissioner saw him until he stepped out from the wall. The Commissioner glared at Krome, then at his desk clock. “You’re late,” he chided. “However, since you brought the suit, that’ll save time. Gentlemen, this is General Bond, Secret Weapons Bureau, Department of Defense.”