"Top Secret! For the Guide Only!" Myers frowned. "That isn't one of our
marks, and if it were Soviet, it'd be tri-lingual, Russian, Hindi and
Chinese."

"Well, let's see what's in it. I want this thing cleared up. I've been
having some of the nastiest dreams, lately...."

"Well, be careful; it may be booby-trapped," Myers said urgently.

"Don't worry; I will."

He used a knife to slice the envelope open without untaping it from the
box, and exposed five sheets of typewritten onion-skin paper. There was
no letterhead, no salutation or address-line. Just a mass of chemical
formulae, and a concise report on tests. It seemed to be a report on an
improved syrup for a carbonated soft-drink. There were a few cryptic
cautionary references to heightened physico-psychological effects.

The box was opened with the same caution, but it proved as innocent of
dangers as the envelope. It contained only a half-liter bottle,
wax-sealed, containing a dark reddish-brown syrup.

"There's a lot of this stuff I don't dig," Benson said, tapping the
sheets of onion-skin. "I don't even scratch the surface of this
rigamarole about The Guide. I'm going to get to work on this sample in
the lab, at school, though. Maybe we have something, here."

* * * * *

At eight-thirty the next evening, after four and a half hours work, he