O'Connor nodded. "Ah," he said. "I thought so. Although a chill is
certainly odd at seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit." He looked at the
thermometer just outside the window of his office, then turned back to
Malone. "Pardon me," he said. "Seventy-one point six."

"Is ... is that all it is?" Malone said. Seventy-one point six
degrees, or even seventy-two, hardly sounded like the broiling Nevada
desert he'd expected.

"Of course," O'Connor said. "At nine o'clock in the morning, one would
hardly expect great temperatures. The desert becomes quite hot during
the day, but cools off rapidly; I assume you are familiar with the
laws covering the system."

"Sure," Malone said. "S-sure."

The chills were not getting any better. They continued to travel up
and down his body with the dignified regularity of Pennsylvania
Railroad commuter trains.

O'Connor frowned for a second. It was obvious that his keen scientific
eye was sizing up the phenomenon, and reporting events to his keen
scientific brain. In a second or less, the keen scientific brain had
come up with an answer, and Dr. O'Connor spoke in his very keenest
scientific voice.

"I should have warned you," he said, without an audible trace of
regret. "The answer is childishly simple, Mr. Malone. You left
Washington at noon."

"Just a little before noon," Malone said. Remembering the burning sun,
he added: "High noon. Very high."

"Just so," O'Connor said. "And not only the heat was intense; the
humidity, I assume, was also high."

"Very," Malone said, thinking back. He shivered again.

"In Washington," O'Connor said, "it was noon. Here it is nine o'clock,
and hardly as warm. The atmosphere is quite arid, and about twenty
degrees below that obtaining in Washington."

Malone thought about it, trying to ignore the chills. "Oh," he said at
last. "And all the time I thought it was you."

"What?" O'Connor leaned forward.

"Nothing," Malone said hastily.

"My suggestion," O'Connor said, putting his fingertips together again,
"is that you take off your clothes, which are undoubtedly damp, and--"

Naturally, Malone had not brought any clothes to Yucca Flats to change
into. And when he tried to picture himself in a spare suit of Dr.
O'Connor's, the picture just wouldn't come. Besides, the idea of doing
a modified strip-tease in, or near, the O'Connor office was thoroughly
unattractive.

"Well," he said slowly, "thanks a lot, doctor, but no thanks. I really
have a b