McLeod nodded and vanished from the screen. The alien visage of Thogran Klayrn appeared.
"I have been waiting for you," the Dirnan said. "You promised to call earlier today. You did not."
"I'm sorry about that," Walton told him. "I was trying to locate the papers to turn over to you."
"Ah, yes. Has it been done?"
"No," Walton said. "The serum doesn't exist any more. The man who invented it is dead, and so is the only other man who knew the formula."
There was a moment of startled silence. Then the Dirnan said, "You assured me delivery of the information."
"I know. But it can't be delivered." Walton was silent a long while, brooding. "The deal's off. There was a mix-up and the man who had the data was—was inadvertently executed today."
"Today, you say?"
"Yes. It was an error on my part. A foolish blunder."
"That is irrelevant," the alien interrupted peevishly. "Is the man's body still intact?"