"Now let's suppose," said Beardsley, "just suppose that Arnold thinks _Sheila_ is the killer. Eh? Let us say they _suspect each other_. Naturally, each has disclaimed any part of the deed. But the suspicion is there, that tiny seed; and suspicion, particularly where love is involved, has a habit of taking root and giving growth. Neither can be _totally_ sure of the other's innocence--eh?" He paused, peering up at Pederson. "And Arnold would want to protect her from any possible consequence. Now what would be his way of doing that? The only way he knew?" He saw the idea take hold. Pederson was staring at the equate-panel with an odd look of excitement. "Total reject," he gasped. "By God, if he should try _that_--to equate her from Logical into reject--" He gestured helplessly. "No, it isn't possible. Those tapes are coded! There's no way of tampering--" Pederson stopped abruptly, as a great light dawned. "Wait a minute, though. It needn't be the tapes! One thing I've always wondered--_would_ it be possible to negate a given factor beyond all reach of empirical coördinates? You know, through operational technique or setup--" Beardsley peered at him. "I'd say anything was possible," he urged, "given time and incentive." Pederson bobbed his head in facile agreement. "By God, you're right! For example, I've always thought there wasn't sufficient control on Cumulative! You can bet your life Arnold would know ... results at that point _could_ be juggled a little, say if the extrapolations were just--" The forceps, the forceps of the mind. Already Pederson was reaching out to seize and to crush; the man was a fool after all! Beardsley felt a burgeoning disgust, but there was something more, a throbbing, chest-filling sensation that he strove to hold rigidly in leash. He said quickly: "Come to think of it, Arnold did mention that he was here most of last night, working on setup." He watched Pederson absorb that, too; he saw the excitement grow. "Beardsley, if you are _sure_--if you could prove that Arnold managed a thing like that--" They were interrupted by the sudden quiet that engulfed the room. It was so total as to be frightening. CUMULATIVE--CUMULATIVE--CUMULATIVE. For half-a-minute all operation ceased, as the words flashed bright across the panel. But the techs had been waiting. It was a mere respite. Swiftly, they checked their respective units against Cumulative Code, and at the end of thirty seconds every light went green for total clearance as ECAIAC's deep-throated power resumed. * * * * * Beardsley had been waiting too. "Cumulative!" he breathed. He let his breath out slowly, and made a sweeping gesture that seemed to encompass all the latent delight, all the unleashed joy of his being. He was aware of Pederson again, a voice in panic: "Beardsley! Don't you know what it means? If there's been an imbalance, it has passed through! It will reach final equate!"