s he moved slowly forward with the
line before the Customs desk. In his weakness, the gaiety around him
seemed artificial, and the noise of voices was unendurable.

Just ahead of him in line was a young man in an obviously new suit; the
pretty girl holding to his arm still had a few grains of rice shining in
her hair.

"That will be all," said the Inspector. "I hope you and Mrs. Hall have a
very happy honeymoon. Next!"

He gritted his teeth to stop his trembling as the Inspector reached for
the passport, glanced at a notation, then looked up.

"I'll have to ask you to step in and see Dr. Willoughby, our ship's
doctor. It will only take a moment, Dr. Chase."

"But I'm not infectious!"

"But there seems to be some question of fitness. In cases like yours the
Star Line likes to have a final check, just to make sure you'll be able
to stand the trip. We're responsible, after all. Last door on my right."

Close to exhaustion, Alan walked down the hall to the last door and
stepped inside. A healthy, rugged man with prominent black eyes looked
at him with a speculative glance.

"And what can I do for you?"

Holding out his passport, Alan sank down into a chair, glad of a chance
to rest, while Dr. Willoughby studied the document, then looked up, the
routine smile wiped off his face.

"Well! So you're Dr. Alan Chase. I've been much interested in the papers
you've been publishing recently. But this is bad news, Dr. Chase. I
suppose you had an independent check on the diagnosis?"

"Not even one of our freshmen could have missed it, but I had it
confirmed by Simmons and von Kramm."

"Then there's no question. How did you pick it up, doctor? Neosarcoma is
still rather a rare disease, and it's not supposed to be very
infectious."

Alan tried to speak casually, although just looking at the rugged good
health of the man opposite him made him feel weaker.

"No, it's not very infectious. But after medical school, I went into
research instead of practice, and I worked on neosarcoma for nearly five
years, trying to devise a competitive chemical antagonist. Then, as used
to happen so often in the old days, I finally picked it up myself--a lab
infection."

* * * * *

The older man nodded. "Well, you're doing the right thing now in going
to Almazin III. I've made some study of the disease myself, as you may
know, and I entirely agree with your theory that it is caused by a
virus, and kept act