rom a few drinks in somebody's room to a mammoth
bust-up that left the whole place partially paralyzed for days
afterward.

First as chief chemist, and later as director of the Station, Dr.
Brinton had attended every one of the scores of parties during every
one of the fourteen years. It spoke well for his endurance to say that
he was back at his office at one o'clock. Some people didn't make it
until the next day.

* * * * *

His secretary, who didn't drink, was one of very few who were at work
on time. She walked into his office and stood in front of his desk,
tapping her foot. Her facial expression showed that she thought people
who got drunk at parties were amoral, degenerate, and entirely unfit
for administrative positions. Dr. Brinton, who had been mentally
comparing the relative merits of Prussic acid and hanging as pain
relievers, sat up straight to prove that he was moral, alert, and ready
for any problem that might come up. His secretary sniffed to indicate
that she didn't believe him. Dr. Brinton dropped his eyes to admit that
maybe he wasn't at his best at the moment, but it was only a temporary
condition, and by tomorrow he would be okay.

"In two minutes you'll wish you were dead," said his secretary. "Read
this."

She handed him a letter. He read it and his knuckles cracked as he
gripped the arms of his chair.

"Senator MacNeill coming to visit _here_?" he cried in alarm. Though
his voice was squeaky, he was surprised to hear it at all. "Get me a
line to Washington, our top priority, Audrey at the Naval Department."

The call was put through.

"Commander Audrey? This is Brinton at the Station. Joe MacNeill is
coming to visit us. Can you head him off?...

"Yes, I know, but he's on one of his economy drives. We just did a test
yesterday and if he inspects this place now, we won't get enough money
to build a pinball machine. Delay him a week, anyway....

"Well, try. I'll arrange a tour for him as best I can, but if he
doesn't come, I'll be much happier. Let me know as soon as possible.
Fine. Good-by."

He scribbled a memo and carried it out to his secretary. "Copy of this
to all department heads, right away. Phone the commissary and have them
get all the decorations taken down in the dining room. Tell them to lay
in some steaks for tomorrow. Phone Harry Sparling in Public
Relations--alert him V.V.I.P. tomorrow, extra-special tour including
all our movies on the s