Ben maintained a puzzled silence and permitted Phil to lead him to a little desk in the corner.
“Joan, can we use any drawer? OK. Ben, pick out a drawer in this desk, remove any articles you wish, add anything you wish. Then, without looking into the drawer, stir up the contents and remove a few articles and drop them into another drawer. I want to eliminate the possibility of telepathy.”
“Phil, don’t worry about my housekeeping. My large staff of secretaries will be only too happy to straighten out that desk after you get through playing with it.”
“Don’t stand in the way of science, little one. Besides,” he added, glancing into a drawer, “this desk obviously hasn’t been straightened for at least six months. A little more stirring up won’t hurt it.”
“Humph! What can you expect when I spend all my time learning parlor tricks for you?
Besides, I know where everything is.”
“That’s just what I am afraid of, and why I want Ben to introduce a little more of the random element—if possible. Go ahead, Ben.”
When the doctor had complied and closed the drawer, Phil continued, “Better use pencil and paper on this one, Joan. First list everything you see in the drawer, then draw a little sketch to show approximate locations and arrangement.”
“OK.” She sat down at the desk and commenced to write rapidly: One large black leather handbag, six- inch ruler… Ben stopped her. “Wait a minute. This is all wrong. I would have noticed anything as big as a handbag.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Which drawer did you say?”
‘The second on the right.”
“I thought you said the top drawer.”.”Well, perhaps I did.” She started again: Brass paper knife, six assorted pencils and a red pencil, thirteen rubber bands, pearl-handled penknife… ‘That must be your knife, Ben. It’s very pretty; why haven’t I seen it before?”
“I bought it in San Francisco. Good God, girl. You haven’t seen it yet.”
One paper of matches, advertising the Sir Francis Drake Hotel, eight letters and two bills, two ticket stubs, the Follies Burlesque Theatre—”Doctor, I’m surprised at you.”
“Get on with your knitting.”
“Provided you promise to take me the next time you go.”
One fever thermometer with a pocket clip, art gum and a typewriter eraser, three keys, assorted, one lipstick. Max Factor #3, a scratch pad and some file cards, used on one side, one small brown paper sack containing one pair stockings, size nine, shade Creole.—”I’d forgotten that I had bought them; I searched all through the house for a decent pair this morning.”
“Why didn’t you just use your X-ray eyes, Mrs. Houdini?”
She looked startled. “Do you know, it just didn’t occur to me. I haven’t gotten around to trying to use this stuff yet.”
“Anything else in the drawer?”
“Nothing but a box of notepaper. Just a sec: I’ll make the sketch.” She sketched busily for a couple of minutes, her tongue between her teeth, her eyes darting from the paper toward the closed drawer and back again. Ben inquired, “Do you have to look in the direction of the drawer to see inside it?”
“No, but it helps. It makes me dizzy to see a thing when I am looking away from it.”
The contents and arrangement of the drawer were checked and found to be exactly as Joan had stated they were. Doctor Coburn sat quietly, making no comment, when they had finished.
Phil, slightly irked at his lack of demonstrativeness, spoke to him.
“Well, Ben, what did you think of it? How did you like it?”
“You know what I thought of it. You’ve proved your theory up to the hilt—but I’m thinking about the implications, some of the possibilities. I think we’ve just been handed the greatest boon a surgeon ever had to work with. Joan, can you see inside a human body?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never—”
“Look at me.”
She stared at him for a silent moment. “Why— why, I can see your heart beat! I can see—”
“Phil, can you teach me to see the way she does?”
Huxley rubbed his nose. “I don’t know. Maybe—”
Joan bent over the big chair in which the doctor was seated. “Won’t he go under, Phil?”