The pursuit of vengeance, Harvey realized, had taken a quick and unpleasant turn. Something shrewd was called for....
"Joseph!" he exclaimed, looking at his partner in alarm. "Don't you feel well?"
Even before the others could turn to him, Joe's practiced eyes were gently crossing. He sagged against the door frame, all his features drooping like a bloodhound's.
"Bring him in here!" Johnson cried. "I mean, get him away! He's coming down with asteroid fever!"
"Of course," replied Harvey calmly. "Any fool knows the first symptoms of the disease that once scourged the universe."
"What do you mean, once?" demanded Johnson. "I come down with it every year, and I ain't hankering to have it in an off-season. Get him out of here!"
"In good time. He can't be moved immediately."
"Then he'll be here for months!"
Harvey helped Joe to the counter and lifted him up on it. The mayor and his gigantic offspring were cowering across the room, trying to breathe in tiny, uncontaminating gasps.
"You'll find everything you want in the back room," Johnson said frantically, "sulfopyridine, mustard plasters, rubs, inhalers, suction cups—"