hand was still in his jacket pocket; the other he laid affectionately upon the Regenerator. 

 "The poor thing tried its best," he said. "Of course, it couldn't cure what wasn't there." He laughed. "But it came very near succeeding!" 

 

 

 Rath studied Caswell's face and said, in a trained, casual tone, "Glad there was no harm, sir. The Company will, of course, reimburse you for your lost time and for your mental anguish--" 

 "Naturally," Caswell said. 

 "--and we will substitute a proper Terran Regenerator at once." 

 "That won't be necessary." 

 "It won't?" 

 "No." Caswell's voice was decisive. "The machine's attempt at therapy forced me into a compete self-appraisal. There was a moment of absolute insight, during which I was able to evaluate and discard my homicidal intentions toward poor Magnessen." 

 Rath nodded dubiously. "You feel no such urge now?" 

 "Not in the slightest." 

 Rath frowned deeply, started to say something, and stopped. He turned to Follansby and Haskins. "Get that machine out of here. I'll have a few things to say to you at the store." 

 The manager and the clerk lifted the Regenerator and left. 

 Rath took a deep breath. "Mr. Caswell, I would strongly advise that you accept a new Regenerator from the Company, gratis. Unless a cure is effected in a proper mechanotherapeutic manner, there is always the danger of a setback." 

 "No danger with me," Caswell said, airily but with deep conviction. "Thank you for your consideration, sir. And good night." 

 Rath shrugged and walked to the door. 

 "Wait!" Caswell called. 

 Rath turned. Caswell had taken his hand out of his pocket. In it was a revolver. Rath felt sweat trickle down his arms. He calculated the distance between himself and Caswell. Too far. 

 Prev. P 19/20 next