The Regenerator you took was a
Martian model--for giving therapy to Martians."
"I know," said Caswell.
"You do?"
"Of course. It became pretty obvious after a while."
"It was a dangerous situation," Rath said. "Especially for a man with
your--ah--troubles." He studied Caswell covertly. The man seemed fine, but
appearances were frequently deceiving, especially with psychotics.
Caswell had been homicidal; there was no reason why he should not still
be.
And Rath began to wish he had not dismissed Smith and his policemen so
summarily. Sometimes an armed squad was a comforting thing to have
around.
Caswell walked across the room to the therapeutic machine. One hand was
still in his jacket pocket; the other he laid affectionately upon the
Regenerator.
"The poor thing tried its best," he said. "Of course, it couldn't cure
what wasn't there." He laughed. "But it came very near succeeding!"
-- -- -- -- --
Rath studied Caswell's face and said, in a trained, casual tone, "Glad
there was no harm, sir. The Company will, of course, reimburse you for
your lost time and for your mental anguish--"
"Naturally," Caswell said.
"--and we will substitute a proper Terran Regenerator at once."
"That won't be necessary.
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