Cochrane found himself annoyed, without knowing why.

“We just have to wait until we know what our job is,” he said curtly, and turned to go.

Bell said: 

“One more thing.  If you’re planning to use a news cameraman up here—­don’t!  I used to be a cameraman before I got crazy and started to write.  Let me do the camera-work.  I’ve got a better idea of using a camera to tell a story now, than—­”

“Hold it,” said Cochrane.  “We’re not up here to film-tape a show.  Our job is psychiatry—­craziness.”

To a self-respecting producer, a psychiatric production would seem craziness.  A script-writer might have trouble writing out a psychiatrist’s prescription, or he might not.  But producing it would be out of all rationality!  No camera, the patient would be the star, and most lines would be ad libbed.  Cochrane viewed such a production with extreme distaste.  But of course, if a man wanted only to be famous, it might be handled as a straight public-relations job.  In any case, though, it would amount to flattery in three dimensions and Cochrane would rather have no part in it.  But he had to arrange the whole thing.

He went back to the table and rejoined Babs.  She confided that she’d been talking to Johnny Simms’ wife.  She was nice!  But homesick.  Cochrane sat down and thought morbid thoughts.  Then he realized that he was irritated because Babs didn’t notice.  He finished his drink and ordered another.

Half an hour later, Holden found them.  He had in tow a sad-looking youngish man with a remarkably narrow forehead and an expression of deep anxiety.  Cochrane winced.  A neurotic type if there ever was one!

“Jed,” said Holden heartily, “here’s Mr. Dabney.  Mr. Dabney, Jed Cochrane is here as a specialist in public-relations set-ups.  He’ll take charge of this affair.  Your father-in-law sent him up here to see that you are done justice to!”

Dabney seemed to think earnestly before he spoke.

“It is not for myself,” he explained in an anxious tone.  “It is my work!  That is important!  After all, this is a fundamental scientific discovery!  But nobody pays any attention!  It is extremely important!  Extremely!  Science itself is held back by the lack of attention paid to my discovery!”

“Which,” Holden assured him, “is about to be changed.  It’s a matter of public relations.  Jed’s a specialist.  He’ll take over.”

The sad-faced young man held up his hand for attention.  He thought.  Visibly.  Then he said worriedly: 

“I would take you over to my laboratory, but I promised my wife I would call her in half an hour from now.  Johnny Simms’ wife just reminded me.  My wife is back on Earth.  So you will have to go to the laboratory without me and have Mr. Jones show you the proof of my work.  A very intelligent man, Jones—­in a subordinate way, of course.  Yes.  I will get you a jeep and you can go there at once, and when you come back you can tell me what you plan.  But you understand that it is not for myself that I want credit!  It is my discovery!  It is terribly important!  It is vital!  It must not be overlooked!”