"Well," said Walsh, "what about my question? Can't Oscar tell the difference between a big man and a little one?"
Dr. Meers' brow wrinkled. "Not in the way a man could," he said. "If you put them side by side, then perhaps yes. Perhaps, mind you. But—don't you see, he hasn't got one of our senses, except touch. Instead, he probably has a whole gamut of his own. Lord only knows how he differentiates between one man and another, or between one apple and another. He doesn't do it our way, anyhow."
"Look here," said Captain Tooker impatiently, "we're wasting time. Why can't we just search everybody on board?"
"Have you got authority," asked Horitz carefully, "to strip Ambassador Jahore and his wife to the skin and put them and all their belongings through five hundred and twenty different chemical solutions? For a starter, that is? If you have, go ahead. I haven't."
The captain shuddered.
"Just the same," said Horitz, standing up, "you're right; we are wasting time. Have you got that passenger list, Captain?"
"Yes; here," Tooker said, producing it. "I've got to get back. If anything happens, buzz me. And it had better be soon!" he added as he left.
"All right." Horitz turned to the two scientists. "Dr. Meers, can you and Dr. Ilyanov make Oscar understand this much: that he's to signal when he sees the man who was with Thomasson on the observation deck this morning?"
Meers shrugged. "We can try," he said. "I don't promise anything." He pulled his chair over to the crude Morse set on the table and began clicking the key.