He glanced at Thurman. The old man was gray-faced, disturbed. Harker said, quietly, "Well, Senator? You've just seen a miracle."
He wasn't prepared for the reply, when it came. Thurman shook his great head slowly from side to side like a dying bison and said, "Jim, this is nightmarish. In the name of all that's good, boy, why did you get mixed up in it?"
CHAPTER XII
Two hours later, the Senate committee had gone, but the gloom of their presence still hovered darkly over Harker.
A delayed reaction having nothing to do with the visit of the senators had struck him. The old wounds of that day at the beach were open once again; once again he huddled Eva's cold little form against his.
Somewhere else on the laboratory grounds, surgeons were working over a twelve-year-old boy, stitching together the surgical apertures that had been made to permit resuscitation. By tomorrow, the boy would be out of anesthesia. In a few weeks, he would be walking around, healthy, recalled to life after twenty hours of death.
Eva had drowned. She had not been saved.
"I don't understand it," Mart Raymond exclaimed vehemently. "It just doesn't make sense."
Drawn for a moment from his painful memories, Harker said, "What doesn't make sense?"