The alien piece of equipment had been a standard model of mass spectrograph. Its sleek sides were gaping open, and the high-frequency heater was permanently wired--piped--into the very heart of the spectrograph. Peering into the maze of one-inch copper tubing that led from the output of the high-frequency heater to the insides of the spectrograph, Lionel saw at once what the reason was. The spectrograph had been overhauled by the physicist. It now contained a pair of "D" chambers. Operating on the cyclotron principle, the spectrograph was using the output of the high-frequency heater to energize the D chambers. Lionel nodded. The frequency was about right; could be adjusted to the proper value without any trouble at all. He felt an infinitesimally short twitch of admiration for the idea before he started to roar in anguish. His first impulse was to rip the gadget apart so that he could go to work on something practical. But the engineer's admiration for the idea stopped him. But this was getting thick. It had been getting thicker for a long time. It was getting intolerable. He didn't mind too much having volumes of utterly cock-eyed theory about the place, but when the physicist starts to appropriate equipment for his screwball ideas, it was time to call a halt. Lionel left the laboratory, returned to his house, and called a psychiatrist. An hour later he was in Dr. Hamilton's office. "Why are you here?" asked Hamilton pleasantly. "I want to get rid of a physicist." "Tell him to go away." "Can't. Impossible." "Nothing is impossible." "Look, doctor, have you ever tried to light a safety match on a wet bar of soap?" "Suppose you tell me about it, then." * * * * * Tom Lionel was more than talkative for a half hour. "A clear-cut case of split-personality. A most remarkable cleavage." Lionel muttered something. "What did you say?" "I'd rather not repeat it," said Tom. "Please--it may have a bearing on your case." "I was merely thinking of an hypothetical case. Says the doctor to his associate: 'Doctor, look at this magnificent tumor,' and his buddy answers: 'Lovely, but you should see my case of angina; it's positively beautiful.'" "Oh?" "So I'm a most remarkable case, huh?" "You are. There seems to be a deep-seated liking for one another that has been barred psychologically by certain factors in your youth. You play chess. You respect one another's property--" "That's what you say. The other bird just screwed up my dielectric heater to fiddle up a cyclotronic spectrograph." "Might try putting it to work," observed Hamilton. "Oh, I will. After all, he can't get ahead of _me_." "Then why the outcry?" "Because who knows what he'll do next." "He's appropriated things before?" "Only to the extent of buying books." "What manner of books?" "The last one he purchased was entitled 'The Theory of Monomolecular Films in Fission-Reaction.'" "Mind explaining that? It sounds like Greek to me."