"Oh, that would never do!" Martha laughed, and kissed him. She jerked back, startled. There was the sound of a shot from the inner office. The door was still open. Martha and Dr. Nale looked through the door, horrified. Ren Gravenard was standing in the middle of the inner office dropping a flat automatic into his side pocket. There was an ugly wound on either side of his head from a bullet that had passed directly through his brain. He smiled at them disarmingly, "It's quite all right. You see, it couldn't possibly do me any harm because I'm waiting for the elevator." "Oh," they said, relieved. They bent and kissed each other again while Ren Gravenard went over to the mirror on the wall and dressed the wounds, wincing from the raw touch of the alcohol on wounded bone and flesh. The outer door opened and two men came in with a wicker basket. Dr. Nale pointed over in the corner where one of the guards lay dead. "What happened to him, Doc?" one of the men asked. "He got shot through the head," Dr. Hargrave explained. "One of the men off the _Endore_ did it. They're all being taken over to observation. I think I'll have to go over with them. I'm beginning to get an inkling of what's going on, and I'm very much afraid of what I think it is." The two men set the basket down and lifted the wicker lid. Dr. Bemis came out of the inner office and laid down in the corner. The two men waited until he had settled himself, then lifted him into the basket. Dr. Hargrave held open the outer door for them. He returned to the desk beside Martha and took a gun out of his coat pocket. He pointed it at her, frowned in indecision, then slowly, with perspiration standing out on his forehead, pulled out the clip and emptied the barrel of the gun. "Good for you," Martha said. She picked up her book and started reading. Dr. Hargrave put the gun back in his pocket and went to the door. "Take a few days off starting tomorrow," he said before going out. "I'm going to be slowly going crazy trying to figure this mess out. That's why I insisted to Dr. Bemis that I be confined _with_ the crew of the _Endore_--just in case." His heels made loud noises on the marble floor of the corridor. He pushed through the revolving doors to the sidewalk. There was an argument going on between a small newsboy and an elderly gentlemen type of man. "I tell you there's only two pennies," the boy insisted. "There's four," the man insisted just as strongly. "See?" He pried open the boy's fingers and looked. "Sorry," he said. "You're right." His hand went into his pocket to make up the deficit. "Hey! Wait a minute," the boy said. "I was wrong. You gave me two pennies too much." A small pudgy finger took two of the pennies. The boy glanced at the others to make sure the right number were left.