ave
been able to go join 'em, I was headed for the wrong side as soon as I
opened my big yap. And if I didn't yelp, I was a dead one anyway. Sooner
or later someone in the local jug would latch on to my condition and
pack me off to Scholar Phelps' Medical Center.

Once more I was in a situation where all I could do was to play it by
ear, wait for a break, and see if I could make something out of it.

But before I could take more than a step or two toward the big door,
someone in the back of the courtroom called out:

"Your Honor, I have some vital information in this case."

His Honor looked up across the court with a great amount of irritation
showing in his face. His voice rasped, "Indeed?"

I whirled, shocked.

Suavely, Dr. Thorndyke strode down the aisle. He faced the judge and
explained who he was and why, then he backed it up with a wallet full of
credentials, cards, identification, and so forth. The judge looked the
shebang over sourly but finally nodded agreement. Thorndyke smiled
self-confidently and then went on, facing me:

"It would be against my duty to permit you to incarcerate this
miscreant," he said smoothly. "Because Mr. Cornell has Mekstrom's
Disease!"

Everybody faded back and away from me as though he'd announced me to be
the carrier of plague. They looked at me with horror and disgust on
their faces, a couple of them began to wipe their hands with
handkerchiefs; one guy who'd been standing where I'd dropped my little
patch of Mekstrom Flesh backed out of that uncharmed circle. Some of the
spectators left hurriedly.

His Honor paled. "You're certain?" he demanded of Dr. Thorndyke.

"I'm certain. You'll note the blood on his finger; Cornell recently
picked off a patch of Mekstrom Flesh no larger than the head of a pin.
It was his first sign." The doctor went on explaining, "Normally this
early seizure would be difficult to detect, except from a clinical
examination. But since I am telepath and Cornell has perception, his own
mind told me he was aware of his sorry condition. One only need read his
mind, or to dig at the tiny bit of Mekstrom Flesh that he dropped to
your floor."

The judge eyed me nastily. "Maybe I should add a charge of contaminating
a courtroom," he muttered. He was running his eyes across the floor from
me to wherever I'd been, trying to locate the little patch. I helped him
by not looking at it. The rest of the court faded back from me still
farther. I could hardly ha