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back.”
    Frazier nodded, and went out. Haskins moved a chair close to the bed, and calmly seated himself. When Colonel Vukin advanced on him, he said good-naturedly, “Cut the act, Colonel. I’m not part of the chain of command. I have one question for the major.”
    “How do you feel, Karvel?” Vukin asked.
    “No worse than I did an hour ago.”
    “Ring when you want him thrown out .”
    “Let me know as soon as you hear from the professor,” Karvel said. He turned to Haskins. “What’s the question?”
    Haskins felt his hand reaching for a cigar. He moved it away reluctantly. “What are you holding back, Major?”
    Karvel met his eyes steadily. Vukin left, muttering something that Haskins did not understand. A nurse opened the door, said, “Oh, excuse me,” and closed it. Still Karvel’s gaze did not waver. Haskins, who spent his waking hours meticulously evaluating those human animals who attracted his attention, knew that he was being measured himself, and he resented it.
    “Who are you?” Karvel asked finally.
    “Gerald Haskins, just as I was when Colonel Frazier introduced us. Shall I have him come back and vouch for me?”
    “No. Your credentials must carry some impact, or you wouldn’t have gotten in here.”
    “And so I say again, Major—what are you holding back?”
    Karvel closed his eyes. “I don’t really know if I’m holding anything back,” he said slowly. For the first time Haskins became aware of his rapid, shallow breathing, and realized that Colonel Vukin had not been pulling hospital rank on his superiors for the fun of it. Karvel was a sick man, and— after his interview with the colonels—a very tired one. “Until I find out,” he went on, “I’m going to keep my mouth shut. How about letting me ask a few questions.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “What are the chances that the U.O. came from outer space?”
    “None at all,” Haskins said, “unless it was enclosed in something else. The external surface is a relatively soft alloy. It would have burned in the upper atmosphere.”
    “I suppose you won’t know if the thing is self-propelled until you break into it.”
    “We’ve already broken into it,” Haskins said. “That was no problem. All we had to do was open a hatch. It was a bit more complicated than it sounds, but only because no one ever saw a hatch like this one. It operates on the principle of an iris diaphragm—something like the adjustment on the lens aperture of a camera. We opened it, but we still don’t know if the U.O. is self-propelled.”
    “Hatch? You mean a passenger hatch? Was the thing designed to carry passengers?”
    “It was designed to carry one passenger.”
    “Then you really have a problem. Was there a passenger, and if so, what happened to him?”
    “No problem at all,” Haskins said peacefully. “There was a passenger, and when we opened the hatch he was still there. Unfortunately, he was dead. Extremely dead. Smashed the way those cattle were smashed, only more so. The U.O. required extensive cleaning before we could begin to study it comfortably. Now may I ask you a question?”
    Karvel nodded.
    “What are you holding back?”
    “I won’t know until I’ve talked with an expert. I’ve invited one, a college professor, and he’s promised to come as soon as he can get away. When and if he arrives, you can ask him about it.”
    “Give me his name and address, and I’ll hurry him up.”
    “He’s detained by the circumstance of his wife’s having a baby,” Karvel said. “I don’t question the potency of your influence, sir, but I doubt that even you can hurry that.”
    “What kind of an expert is he?”
    “A lepidopterologist.”
    “It sounds like an extremely rare species of expert,” Haskins said dryly. “I was thinking of drafting a substitute, but I doubt that a. . .lepidopterologist, was it?. . .is that easy to locate on a Sunday morning. I’ll wait for your professor. And because he is a. . .lepidopterologist. .