"Have either of you gentlemen chanced to see a stray wombat this morning?" he asked, smiling uncertainly.

Napoleon looked startled. "I don't think so; what does a wombat look like?"

"Like a groundhog with delusions of grandeur," Illya explained and turned to their new acquaintance. "No, we haven't seen one. Is one missing?" Napoleon remained silent and made believe he knew what a groundhog looked like.

"Yes, Eyre seems to have vanished again," the portly man replied. "We named him Eyre because he's a long distance traveler; he's gotten loose before. He always comes back, of course, but he can cause rather expensive damage if we don't find him in time."

"Damage?" Napoleon asked.

"Wombats dig," Illya informed him.

Their portly acquaintance chuckled. "That's rather like saying that Hitler was a troublemaker, you know," he said. "A bit of an understatement, that is. Yes, they dig. They tend to undermine things." He glanced at the building near them. "Does the science building look a trifle tilted to you? No, that's ridiculous. But he must be around here somewhere."

"I'm afraid we wouldn't be of much help in a wombat hunt," Napoleon explained.

"Oh, yes, of course. You didn't come over here to help me hunt Eyre, so you must have come for some other reason. Deductive reasoning, you know. Now then, my name is Epaminondas T. Dodd; I'm head of the biology department here at Midford. Can I help you in any way?"

"Why, yes," Napoleon replied glibly, "I'm looking for a good, solid university for my nephew."

"Oh, I'm sure that Midford can fulfill any expectations," Dodd said. "You really should see President McLaughlin, but he's gone today. I suppose I could show you the science building."

"That seems fair enough," Napoleon said. "I'm merely making a preliminary report."

"Very well; come along. Since Eyre isn't about the grounds, we'll have to notify the Midford police department to be on the lookout for him. Sometimes I wonder if the prestige of being one of the few American universities to own a live wombat is really worth the trouble he causes."

They walked toward the building. "University life these days is so disruptive," said Napoleon. "Respect for authority is becoming a thing of the past. I hope that here at least it might be different. My brother is quite insistent on a good conservative college for his son.

"Oh, I'm sure Midford is conservative enough for you," Dodd assured him. "Just a few of the students tend to get out of hand now and then. Argue for student-privileges, write letters to the newspapers, read Henry Miller - that sort of thing. But the majority of our students are solid, hardworking types."

"I've heard, though," said Illya, "that a member of your faculty has given his services on occasion to some liberal international outfit in New York - U.N.C.L.E., I think it's called."

Dodd nodded. "I suppose that would be Professor Curtis. He's in the psychology department, and you know they're inclined to be a bit more liberal than we in the sciences. But I really doubt that he will be working with them again."

"Oh?" Napoleon looked interested. "Why?"

"Well, I couldn't say about that," Dodd replied. "We don't move in the same circles, you know. But last week there was a memorandum sent around by President McLaughlin, saying that members of the faculty were forbidden to accept outside employment with any organizations whose policies were inconsistent with the goals of the University. There was a list of forbidden organizations, and I'm sure U.N.C.L.E. was one of them." Dodd looked a little puzzled. "Personally I never heard of U.N.C.L.E. - or most of the others on the list. But conservatively speaking, I'm sure you can see that your nephew will be in good hands here."

Napoleon smiled ingratiatingly. "I'm sure he would, but would it be possible to speak to Professor Curtis?"

Dodd consulted his watch. "I think so. He's usually in his office on Saturday mornings. I can introduce you, if you can wait a few minutes until I phone about Eyre."

"No need to trouble yourself," said Napoleon.

"He doesn't seem familiar with Thrush," Illya remarked as they started across the campus, following his directions. "Either they aren't involved, or they're keeping well under cover."

When they found Professor Curtis he was grading tests while a girl across the desk from him was making a tabulation of some kind from another stack of papers. Napoleon introduced himself and Illya, then repeated his story about a fictitious nephew. Then he mentioned the memorandum that Dodd had told them about.

Curtis nodded pleasantly. "I don't understand what Gaspar thinks he's up to. I'm the only faculty member who has ever worked for U.N.C.L.E. or any of the other organizations on his fool list, and he knows that I'm not going to pay any attention to it. I suppose it's all part of a deal to get another donation from someone."

"You mean if U.N.C.L.E. asked you to help them out, you'd do it, in spite of the memorandum?" Napoleon looked mildly disapproving.

"Of course I would. In the first place, U.N.C.L.E. pays its research consultants very well."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged startled glances.

"In the second place," Curtis continued, oblivious of his visitors' amazement, "what I do with my spare time is my own business." Curtis reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a bottle containing a pale liquid, and took a drink.

"Rutabaga juice," he explained. "I'd offer you some, but it tastes terrible. Very nourishing, however; I always have some in the middle of the morning. Much healthier than those abominations you get from the soft drink machines on campus."

"I take it you're an advocate of health foods," Napoleon said. "Yoghurt, wheat germ, that sort of thing?'

Curtis threw back his head and laughed, a full throated sound that didn't seem to go with his small, wiry frame. "You forgot to mention blackstrap molasses. I've often wondered why the general public picked those particular items as representative of health foods, when there are so many others with less repellent names and superior nutritive value. Some of them even taste good. Take rose hip extract, for example. I'll be making some next week; they hit their peak vitamin content in October, you know."

Napoleon nodded sagely. "I suppose the hardest part is finding a rose with hips."

Curtis chuckled politely. "Rose hips are simply the seed pods of the rose. Properly prepared, rose hip extract provides as much vitamin C per glass as you can get from one hundred glasses of orange juice."

"Fascinating," Illya said, "but…"

"Of course," Curtis continued, "while I prefer my own preparations, I haven't the time or the raw materials, so to speak, to prepare all my own food. I buy most of it. If you're interested, I have some literature. This rutabaga juice," he eyed the bottle critically, "comes from Irwin Vita-Glo, and seems decidedly inferior."

"This is all very interesting," Napoleon said desperately, "but it's not really why we came." He noted that the girl was fighting a losing battle to keep from laughing.

Curtis noticed her expression, and ceased his dissertation on health foods. "One giggle out of you," he warned the girl. "and I'll drop your grades ten points. I'm sorry gentlemen; I tend to become overenthusiastic about health foods. Rita, here, tends to restrain me. Just what was it you wanted to see me about?"