"And Bell? " I asked.

Glenda sat motionless, her stiff eyelashes unblinking. She still wore the semi-bimbo trappings of a too-tight sweater, highI heeled clattering boots, and the puffed-up glittery blonde hair arrangement, but the Glenda of before Doncaster had vanished. The woman who had enraged and stripped away the shaky facade of Oliver Quigley was now wholly in charge, except that she hadn't yet settled entirely into the role.

"Bell went to her house to pack a suitcase, " she said at length. "She's coming back here to take me with her. " After a pause I asked Glenda if she had discussed with George the list of frosty discrepancies I'd brought for her.

"Discussed! " She almost laughed. "It wasn't anything to do with girls, you know. " In bitterness it sounded as if she wished it was. "There hasn't been any racing at Baden-Baden since September. " I nodded. I'd looked it up.

"George is a traitor to his country, " she declaimed, and I murmured, "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think? " "He knows I think so. I'm going to London with Bell because I don't want to be here when he comes back. If you think I'm afraid of him, you're right, and I'm going to tell you things I never meant to tell anybody. " She swallowed, paused, screwed up her nerve.

"All those places, where I thought he was with girls, he was buying and selling nuclear secrets. " To do her justice, she sounded scandalized.

"And once"--her disgust intensified--"once he brought home a heavy little package and because I thought it was gold... a gold present for a girl... I was so furious.. " She visibly drew in an outraged gulp of air. "How could he... we've always had good s.e.x... I took the packet out of his briefcase and opened it, and inside there was only this heavy gray box... So I opened that too, and right in the middle of some foam packing there was only this tiny twist of a coa.r.s.e gray powder, but it was wrapped up tight in a tissue and I couldn't wrap it back again the way it had been before, and then George came in. " "And he noticed you'd opened his parcel? " I suggested, as she paused to draw breath.

"No, he didn't, but I was afraid he would, because he stuck around... and I had this stuff out of its box, so I popped it into my handbag in the tissue paper and it was still there when we went round to Oliver Quigley's yard on our way to Nottingham races on the day before Caspar Harvey's lunch. When I was looking for my lipstick... the tissue fell out of my bag and the powder went into a feed bowl full of oats lying on the ground ready for one of Oliver's horses. I didn't do it on purpose and I didn't know the horse would be sick. But I didn't tell George as I was frightened of him.

I just left it. " "And, " I asked, completely stunned but also believing her, "did you see which horse got that particular bowl? " Her eyes were wide, and she said, "No. " "Glenda! " I protested.

"All right then, you've guessed. I saw which stall it went to, but I didn't know it was Caspar's filly that was in that one. I didn't even think of it until Bell said the filly could have had radiation sickness, and then I really knew what George was probably doing in all those places and lying about it. He was buying stuff to make bombs with, so I asked you to sort out what he'd said about where he'd been. And I do wish Bell would hurry up. " So did I. I asked Glenda,

"Did George know at Doncaster that I'd said I would look up those weather discrepancies? " "He sure did. I told him. He wasn't going to do me any harm as long as he knew someone else could give him away. " Glenda, the new lesser-varnished edition, was still far too naive. I was less and less inclined to be in George's house when he returned, but Bell at last arrived, saying she'd packed a suitcase, argued with her father and talked to Kris on the telephone to persuade him to give her bed room.

Without urgency she loaded Glenda into her car while protesting that none of this haste was necessary.

"It will avoid a scene, " I pointed out, and with the equivalent of "wagons roll" we at last set off in two cars towards London.

Jett glanced over at me and said,

"How are you feeling? " "Don't ask. " "I didn't understand everything that Glenda said. " "You came in halfway through the movie. " "Was that powder uranium? " "Judging from its wrapping in tissue paper and lead--that heavy container sounds like lead--I'd guess it might be perhaps ordinary basic uranium ore, but also it might have been some other radioactive stuff giving off alpha particles. " Jett said,

"And is George buying and selling uranium? Is Glenda right? " "She's half right. He's putting in touch with each other people who know where to buy enriched uranium and enriched plutonium with people who want to buy it. The gray powder wasn't bomb-making stuff, though, since the filly recovered. " I told Jett about the Unified Traders frightening away the residents of Trox Island, and she said it explained why my grandmother spent her days biting her manicured nails.

"Then don't make it worse for her... but about that dipstick... " I stopped, in hesitation.

"Do you know who took it?

"Jett asked.

"Do you remember what George Loricroft said at breakfast? " She wrinkled her forehead. "Something about Kris must have left the dipstick on the ground at Doncaster when he clipped shut the folded-back engine cowling. " "Absolutely right, but Kris didn't un clip or fold back the engine cowling at all at Doncaster, so George couldn't have seen that. Add to that a few more facts, such as George's car was in the park near Kris's private airplane. Glenda had just told him that I would have him investigated. He knew I'd been to Trox Island, but didn't know what I'd learned there. And he could have known oil on the windshield could kill, as he could have read about a case of it that was in the news last year. " "That's d.a.m.ning,

"Jett said.

"And all circ.u.mstantial. He could have folded back half of the engine cowling and taken out the dipstick. Also he might not. " It was a bit later that I asked why we weren't on the right road in London. Wait and see, Miss van Els uttered calmly, and soon after that she found a parking place in a side street near wide busy Marylebone Road.

"Follow me... in sickness and in health, " Jett said with humor, and I found myself in a medical specialist's waiting room in an annex to a small private hospital that I certainly couldn't afford. The specialist's name, a placard informed me, was Dr. Ravi Chand, citizen of Uttar Pradesh.

"I can't stay long, " I warned. "At two-thirty I'm due in Wood Lane. " Jett didn't answer but was some sort of miracle worker, as in a very short time I was prodded, inspected and generally turned inside out by a briskly competent Indian pract.i.tioner with a wide grin of splendid teeth. To Jett, summoned as my nursing companion, the odd news was delivered in the neat accent of New Delhi.

"My dearJett, your impatient Dr. Stuart isn't suffering from radiation sickness of any sort, nor are his troubles to do with fractured ribs. He is developing a rash which is still under his skin but may erupt into sores in a day or two, or perhaps later today. He has been infected with a disease I can't readily identify. I need to grow cultures and take blood tests.

Meanwhile, he shouldn't go to work, but I can give him prescriptions to allay the severe nausea... This may be unwelcome news to you, my dearJett--and how nice it is to see you again--but I would advise you not to sleep with this young man until we know how infectious he may be. " Demurely she said,

"He hasn't asked me yet. " "That's unfair, " I protested. "Who said don't hurry? Consider yourself asked. " Ravi Chand smiled, ruminated, inspected his nails, which were lighter against the brown of his fingers, and told me to rest in bed (alone) in the hospital next door for at least a day or until he knew what was wrong with me.

"I can't afford it, " I said, and got overruled by Dr. Chand's quick reply that money came tailed off compared with health.

He himself called the BBC and alarmed them far too much.

So I spent a worse pincushion and pill-popping afternoon with X rays, C. T. scan and embarra.s.sing interior searches, and wrote as requested a long list of where I'd been in the past two months. Halfway through the list I realized what might be wrong with me, relaying the revelation to the gleeful satisfaction of my Indian inquisitor.

"Cows! " he exclaimed. "I thought so. Unpasteurized milk!

Paratuberculosis! " He frowned. "You do not, though, have any ordinary form of tuberculosis. I had you tested for that routinely, to begin with. " He bustled away, thin, good-humored, dedicated to mystery solving.

In a bedroom that would have honored a hotel for comfort I watched someone else on television foretell cold showery periods for the following day with a chance of sunshine in Wales, later, and I recognized with grat.i.tude that the feeling of abject illness had abated to a much more bearable level. Jett, returning to visit briefly in the evening, wore an anti-infection surgical mask, and having incautiously asked what she could do for me, made a face at the length of my list.

"In sickness and in health, " I reminded her teasingly.

"For richer, for poorer, " she replied, nodding. "I promised 1Xs Ravi I would pay your bill here, so you can cross off number one on your list, bring credit cards over. You don't need them. " "b.u.g.g.e.r that, " I said.

"Please do get the cards. " "I'll pay your bill out of the money I earned looking after your grandmother. That, " Jett explained, "came from your BBC salary, didn't it? I know it did. " I said, shaking my head,

"After all those dreadful tests today, you must leave me at least a little pride. " "Oh. " She blinked. "I'm not used to your sort of man. I'm not used to self-sufficient survivors. I'm used to adult little boys being brave but needing succor. Needing comfort. Needing their hands held. Why don't you? " I would give it a try, I thought, one day.

"Please bring my cards, " I meanwhile said.

THE LOOKING Gla.s.s in the morning (Thursday) confirmed the Indian doctor's prognosis. There were three sores round my mouth and several small outposts of the same bad news from forehead to chin, from chin to waist, and other places besides. The knowledgeable product of New Delhi seemed quite pleased however, and sent in well-protected and gloved nurses with relays of pills, needles and swabs.

He hustled in again himself at what would have been lunchtime if I'd felt like it, and with obvious pleasure rattled off his diagnosis.

"The already good news is of course that you don't have straightforward tuberculosis, as we'd established already, " he said. "The rest of the news, my dear Dr. Stuart, is that you have a variation of an already rare complication of Mycobacterium para tuberculosis " He waited quizzically for some sort of reaction from me, but all I was numbly thinking was that it seemed to be my week for long incomprehensible medical terminology and other words to that effect.

"The point is, " the precise voice confided, "that an absolutely positive culture may take weeks, as this is a bacterium that's uncommonly difficult to grow in a Petri dish. " I said, horrified, "I can't afford weeks away from work. " "No, no, of course not. We have already started you on antibiotics, and as far as can be seen up to now, you are not developing Crohn's disease--good news--or Johne's disease, which is more or less endemic in cattle more good news.

The best of all news is that on present showing, you should make a full recovery. " He paused, considering, then said, "This infection you have, this unusual variant of Mycobacterium para tuberculosis... it's from a strain that was developed originally for measuring how much or how little heat was needed to achieve viable infection after pasteurization. I would say that you might have drunk raw milk from a cow with yet another new variant... " He broke off, then continued, "I see you understand what I'm saying. " An experimental herd, I thought. A mixed herd, with specimens of several breeds, Charolais, Hereford, Angus, Brahman... Friesian...

A herd isolated on an island, breeding only among itself...

The presence and the purpose of the cattle on Trox abruptly made sense.

I.

I.

"Very little is known about the human incidence of para tuberculosis " the Indian said cheerfully. "I'll bring you some information booklets, if you like. In return, you might tell me where I can find this cow. " "Thank you... yes, O. K.... When can I leave? " He looked at his watch, but dashed my hopes.

"Sunday, " he said. "Perhaps. The tests I'm running will not be conclusive until Sunday morning, and even then I'm accelerating them. " He smiled primly. "I will eventually publish my results. Until then I will keep my findings thoroughly locked away, and I'm afraid even you won't know every detail before I publish... " "Do you mean, " I asked slowly, "that you will meanwhile lock your findings... in a safe? " "Certainly. There is fierce compet.i.tion among researchers.

I do not want any compet.i.tor to scoop me, now do I? " The word scoop sat amusingly on his tongue, but did explain the purpose of the safe on Trox Island. The results from the experimental herd were worth a lifetime's fortune in prestige. I'd been grateful to those cows. Too late to wish I'd starved.