"Frank, I'm taking my back vacations and going to Venus to forget it all for about six months. And mind you, when I get back I don't want to see my present assistants. I'm going to start from scratch."
He left, banging the door.
Next was Sturtevant.
"Frank, we've got to get Interstellar Review to hold my last paper. I want to recheck the melting points of some of those diazo compounds."
Then came the young physicist, Dr. Slezak, who was rumored to be Miss Chester's present skiing companion. "Dr. Whitemarsh," he stammered, "I'm not sure about the data on my last report."
"Didn't you take it all yourself?"
"Yes, but I used some of Kercheval's data for my fundamental calculations and, if that's wrong, all my conclusions may not be valid."
"Stop worrying," Whitemarsh told him. "When Kercheval recalculates his values, you can revise your own report. As long as your own work is right, you have nothing to worry about."
The young man left, nervously wringing his hands. Whitemarsh couldn't see what Sally saw in him. He figured she ought to be along by now.
She was.