er it in
response to Susan's buzz. But some sixth sense brought me upright in my
chair when I heard Mr. Spardleton say, "Well, how are things out in the
Washington suburbs this morning?"

I felt the hairs tingle at the base of my neck, and I knew that Mr.
Spardleton was talking to Dr. Marchare. I heard, "Certainly, why don't I
send Mr. Saddle out. He's worked with Callahan before--on that Pigeon
Scarer Case, as I recall--and the two of them can decide what to do.
That sound all right?"

I am afraid it sounded all right, because there was some chitchat and
then the sound of the phone's banging into its cradle, and Mr.
Spardleton's booming voice, "Oh, Mr. Saddle. Will you come in here a
moment, please?"

I took a quick swallow of milk of magnesia, an excellent antacid, and
went in. Mr. Spardleton was busy so he came right to the point. "They've
got some kind of problem out at the Marchare Laboratory--don't know
whether to file a patent application right now, or wait until the
invention is more fully developed. Will you hop out there and get them
straightened out? Callahan is the chemist, and you know him pretty
well."

I certainly did. Callahan's name always reminded me of the time I took
testimony in Sing Sing Prison on a Callahan application in Interference.
But I nodded numbly and went back to my office and finished the bottle
of milk of magnesia and caught a cab to the Marchare Laboratory.

* * *

It was cool in the lab and the air smelled faintly of solvents. I liked
the smell, and I sniffed it deeply and tried to distinguish one from the
other. My chemistry professor had often told me that I had the best nose
he had run across in twenty-five years of teaching. I picked out the
pungent, aromatic odor of toluene and the hospital smell of diethyl
ether, and I thought I could detect the heavy odor of lauryl alcohol.
Underneath them all was a rich, sweet smell that I had smelled before,
but I couldn't tell what it was. I decided it was a lactone, and let it
go at that. I nodded as I went past the receptionist, and her smile made
me feel uncomfortable again, just as it always did; there was too much
of a leer in it. I never stopped to tell her where I was going; I just
went in unannounced.

I went up the stairs and down the hall to Callahan's lab, next to Dr.
Marchare's. I went in. Henry Callahan stood at a bench pouring a
colorless liquid down a chromatographic column. He looked over at me and