or two every day." He shrugged. "There's nothing here that's interesting," he said as he released the clamps and tilted the table. For what seemed to Mary an interminable time, the cadaver clung to the polished steel. Then abruptly it slid off the shining surface and disappeared through the square hole in the floor. "We'll clean up now," Kramer said as he placed the instruments in the autoclave, closed the door and locked it, and pressed three buttons on the console. From jets embedded in the walls a fine spray filled the room with fog. "Germicide," Kramer said. "Later there'll be steam. That's all for now. Do you want to go?" Mary nodded. "If you feel a little rocky there's a bottle of Scotch in my desk. I'll split a drink with you when we get out of here." "Thanks," Mary said. "I think I could use one." "Barton! Where is the MacNeal stain!" Kramer's voice came from the lab. "I left it on the sink and it's gone!" "It's with the other blood stains and reagents. Second drawer from the right in the big cabinet. There's a label on the drawer," Mary called from the office. "If you can wait until I finish filing these papers, I'll come in and help you." "I wish you would," Kramer's voice was faintly exasperated. "Ever since you've organized my lab I can't find anything." "You just have a disorderly mind," Mary said, as she slipped the last paper into its proper folder and closed the file. "I'll be with you in a minute." "I don't dare lose you," Kramer said as Mary came into the lab. "You've made yourself indispensable. It'd take me six months to undo what you've done in one. Not that I mind," he amended, "but I was used to things the way they were." He looked around the orderly laboratory with a mixture of pride and annoyance. "Things are so neat they're almost painful." "You look more like a pathologist should," Mary said as she deftly removed the tray of blood slides from in front of him and began to run the stains. "It's my job to keep you free to think." "Whose brilliant idea is that? Yours?" "No—the
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