ver the
reason for ourselves. Now what the hell did the grinning heathen mean by
that? Is there a reason, or was he only dragging a red herring across
the bogus Haslop's track?"

Gibbons looked thoughtful. I sat back while he pondered and watched the
Quack, who was swallowing another antibiotic capsule.

"Wait a minute," Gibbons exclaimed. "Captain, you've hit on something
there!"

He stared at the Haslops. They stared back, unimpressed.

"Gaffa said you two were exactly alike outside," Gibbons said. "And
we've proved it. Does that mean you're not alike _inside_?"

"Sure," one of them said. "But what of it? You're sure as hell not going
to cut one of us open to see!"

"You're confusing the issue," Gibbons snapped. "What I'm getting at is
this--if you two aren't made alike inside, then you can't possibly exist
on the same sort of diet. One of you eats the same sort of food as
ourselves. The other can't. But which is which?"

One of the Haslops pointed a quivering finger at the other. "It's him!"
he said. "I've watched him drink his dinner for twenty-two years--he's
the fake!"

"Liar!" the other one yelled, springing up. Corelli stepped between them
and the second Haslop subsided, grumbling. "It's true enough, only
_he's_ the one that drinks his meals. This stuff in the pitcher is the
food he lives on--alcohol for energy, with minerals and other stuff
dissolved in it. I drink it with him for kicks, but that phony can't eat
anything else."

* * * * *

Corelli snapped his fingers.

"So that's why they limited our time, and why they brought this
stuff--to keep their fake Haslop refueled! All we've got to do to
separate our men now is feed them something solid. The one that eats it
is the real Haslop."

"Sure, all we need now is some solid food," I said. "You don't happen to
have a couple of sandwiches on you, do you?"

Everybody got quiet for a couple of minutes, and in the silence the
Quack surprised us all by deciding to speak up.

"Since I'm stuck here for life," he said, "a few germs more or less
won't matter much. Pass me the pitcher, will you?"

He took a man-sized slug of the fiery stuff without even wiping off the
pitcher's rim.

After that we gave it up, as who wouldn't have? Captain Corelli said the
hell with it and took such a slug out of the pitcher that the two
Haslops yelled murder and grabbed it quick themselves, and from then on
we just sat around and drank