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problem and she handed it to him. 'Considering the lives they lead, I'm surprised there aren't many more,' he said. He sliced the top of his first egg with a decisive sweep of his knife.
     
     
    John Richardson, consultant bacteriologist at Kerr Memorial yawned and scratched at the stubble on his chin. He grimaced as he saw the rain outside and murmured, 'Ye gods, another day nearer the grave.'
    'I think that's why I married you,' said a woman's voice from under the covers. 'Your infectious sense of optimism.'
    'I think you have just talked yourself out of a cup of tea,' said Richardson.
    'I take it back,' said the voice lazily.
    Richardson smiled. 'You should have been a politician with such limpet-like adherence to principle,' he said. 'Tea or coffee?'
    'Tea. You're up early.'
    'I've got a lot on and that chap from London is coming today, you know, the one I told you about,' said Richardson still looking out at the rain.
    'The government investigator,' said Claire Richardson with mock solemnity.
    'That's the one.'
    'What is he exactly? A bureaucrat?'
    'No, I understand he's medically qualified. He's from some body called the Sci-Med Monitor.'
    'Do you think he's going to make any difference?'
    Richardson shrugged and rubbed his chin again. 'Normally, I would have said no, but who knows? Right now I'm willing to agree to anything before someone else dies needlessly. We've tried everything we can think of to find the source of the infection but we keep coming up with blanks.'
    'Frustrating.'
    'And embarrassing,' added Richardson. 'It's making me look a complete fool, as Thelwell never fails to point out.'
    'They can't blame you,' said Claire. 'You've covered every test in the book and you're one of the most experienced bacteriologists in the region.'
    'Counts for nothing when women start dying and I can't tell them why.'
    'You've still no notion at all where the infection might be coming from?'
    'None.'
    'Isn't that a bit odd?'
    Richardson gave a bitter laugh and said, 'You're beginning to sound like Thelwell.'
    'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. It just seems strange that you haven't managed to find the source when you said yourself that it was an everyday sort of bug and there's such a lot known about it.'
    Richardson looked at his wife's worried face and smiled. He said gently, 'I know you didn't and you're right, it is strange. That's what makes me feel that we haven't missed anything in the tests. The bug isn't hiding somewhere in the hospital, it's being carried by a member of staff.'
    'But surely you've tested all the staff?'
    'Of course,' agreed Richardson. 'And they were all negative.'
    'Back to square one.'
    Richardson nodded and turned away as a loud click from the kitchen told him that the kettle had boiled.
    'How is your new assistant settling in?' Claire called through to him.
    'Evans? He's first class,'
    Claire Richardson smiled affectionately at her husband as he returned carrying a tray with her tea and biscuits on it. She said, 'You say that about all your staff. You're a big softie, John Richardson.'
    'Nonsense,' said Richardson gruffly. 'He's an excellent microbiologist and he has certainly taken a weight off my shoulders.'
    Claire Richardson smiled at the unease her husband always displayed at any suggestion of a compliment. There was a definite mannerism associated with it. He would reach up his left hand to rub his neck as if he had an itch there. She had never mentioned this to him. 'If I were thirty years younger I could fall in love with you all over again.' she said.
    'What some women will say to get tea in bed,' muttered Richardson shuffling out of the room.'
     
     
    * * * * * * * * * *
     
     
    Jamieson swung the car in through the gates of Kerr Memorial and was waved to a halt by a uniformed man. He had to sit still while the man made a detailed inspection of his windscreen and then indicated that he should wind down his window.
    'No permit,' said the man as if it were a death