s in a cool white bed, in a low ceilinged room, white painted.
There were other beds, vacant. A uniformed male nurse puttered around.
There was an elusive green tinge to the light that poured in through
the one window.

The door opened and a sergeant came in. "Comrade Alexis!"

"Well, what is it now? Have they found another gold-bricking officer
to mess up my clean beds?"

"A party from corps headquarters will be here in fifteen minutes for
inspection."

"Let them come. They won't find any specks of rust on my instruments,
like they did on Comrade Borisoff's."

"They'd better not. You know what happened to him."

"Yeah. Chucked into the ray. Well, he didn't give the burial squad any
work." And the two laughed, a laugh that had more than a hint of
sadistic cruelty in it. "If I had my way," the nurse went on, "I'd do
the same with all these nuts that come back from the scout ships
raving of home and mother. It's my idea that they're all bluffing.
It's a good way to be shipped to the rear, where the captured dames
are. Say, did I tell you about the last time I was on leave--"

The two whispered, their heads close together. My brain was working
frantically. Things had gone well so far, but I had to get out of here
before the morning, or I'd be sent to the base and lose all that I had
gained by my daring.

The door snapped open. "_Smirnow!_" (Atten-_shun!_)

* * * * *

I was on my side, facing away from the wall. I remained so, staring
blankly across the room. I hoped the inspection would be over quickly.
The fewer the enemy officers I had looking me over, the better.
Someone back there was snapping questions. That voice--where had I
heard it before?

"Your patient. What's his trouble?"

"Amnesia, sir. One of the scouts."

"Oh, yes. Let's look at him."

Someone was walking across the room, then standing above me. His hand
was just at the level of my eyes--a hand with the little finger
twisted queerly into the palm. I knew that hand: it was the
_Ferret's_! A cold shiver ran up my back. I almost stopped breathing.

Of all the infernal luck in the world, to have the Ferret walk in
here! He was chief of the Red's Intelligence Service, the shrewdest,
sharpest, cruelest of them all. Many of our best men had gone west
because of his uncanny instinct for piercing disguise. They said he
could _smell_ an American. And many of our most strictly guarded plans
had been smashed through hi