"How do you mean?"
"How do you propose to explain this unfortunate incident?" asked Crandall. "Someone will want to know what happened to the remains of Holly Carter. I can see hell breaking loose. And I can see the whole lot of us getting laughed right off the Earth because we couldn't tell right from left. And I can see us all clobbered for letting the affair take place."
"You seem to be more worried about your professional reputation than about Holly Carter's life!"
"I have a future," he said. "Holly doesn't seem to. Hell," he groaned, "we can't even gamble on it."
"Gamble?"
"How successful do you think you'd be in getting this Venusian to risk his life by closing his eyes and making a fifty-fifty stab in the dark at one of those buttons?"
"Well—" started Wallach—"we'd be gambling too, you know. But—"
"Wait a moment," I said. "I've got a sort of half-cracked theory. May I try?"
"Of course."