pilled grease, and how
she'd never forgiven her mother or been able to go near a kitchen
since. But I should have guessed. She could remember my stories, too.
Her eyes swung up toward mine pleadingly.

Eve Nolan stood up suddenly. "I'm not only a good cook, but I enjoy
it," she stated flatly, and there was disgust in the look she threw at
Jenny. She swung toward me. "How about it, Paul, can you wrestle the
big pots around for me?"

"I used to be a short order cook when I was finishing school," I told
her. But she'd ruined the line. The grateful look and laugh from Jenny
weren't needed now. And curiously, I felt grateful to Eve for it. I
got up and went after Napier.

I found him in Bullard's little cubbyhole of a cabin. He must have
chased Grundy off, and now he was just drawing a hypo out of the
cook's arm. "It'll take the pain away," he was saying softly. "And
I'll see that he doesn't hit you again. You'll be all right, now. And
in the morning, I'll come and listen to you. Just go to sleep. Maybe
she'll come back and tell you more."

He must have heard me, since he signalled me out with his hand, and
backed out quietly himself, still talking. He shut the door, and
clicked the lock.

Bullard heard it, though. He jerked to a sitting position, and
screamed. "_No!_ No! He'll kill me! I'm a good man...."

He hunched up on the bed, forcing the sheet into his mouth. When he
looked up a second later, his face was frozen in fear, but it was a
desperate, calm kind of fear. He turned to face us, and his voice
raised to a full shout, with every word as clear as he could make it.

"All right. Now I'll never tell you the secret. Now you can all die
without air. I promise I'll never tell you what I know!"

He fell back, beating at the sheet with his hand and sobbing
hysterically. Napier watched him. "Poor devil," the doctor said at
last. "Well, in another minute the shot will take effect. Maybe he's
lucky. He won't be worrying for awhile. And maybe he'll be rational
tomorrow."

"All the same, I'm going to stand guard until Muller gets someone else
here," I decided. I kept remembering Lomax.

Napier nodded, and half an hour later Bill Sanderson came to take over
the watch. Bullard was sleeping soundly.

The next day, though, he woke up to start moaning and writhing again.
But he was keeping his word. He refused to answer any questions.
Napier looked worried as he reported he'd given the cook another shot
of sedative. T