The detective pointed to the rectangular plastic tank that lay on its side on top of the shards of the flasks its fall had crushed; drips and icicles of yellow gray stuff hung from its transparent sides. Pieces of a large mirror lay next to the tub.

“For bathing?” The academician was getting tired of these questions. “I'm afraid that you have a peculiar idea of what a scientific laboratory is used for, comrade… eh, investigator!”

“And there was a mirror right next to it. A good one, full — length/ Onisimov droned on. “What use could it have served?”

“I don't know! I can't delve into every technical detail of all hundred sixty projects that are under way in my institute!”

“You see, Apollon Marve… I mean, Matvei Apollonovich — forgive me,” Hilobok interrupted, “Arkady Arkadievich is in charge of the entire institute, is a member of five interdisciplinary commissions, edits a scholarly journal, and of course, cannot deal with every detail of every project specifically. That's what the project directors are for. And besides, the late — oh dear, what a pity — the late Valentin Vasilyevich Krivoshein was a man of too much independence. He did not like to confer with anyone, to share his thoughts or results. And he often ignored, it must be said, many of the basic safety rules. Of course, I know that you should not speak ill of the dead — de mortius bene aut nihil, as they say — but what was, was. Remember, Arkady Arkadievich, how a year ago January — no, maybe it was February — no, I think it was January, or it could even have been back in December — anyway, remember, how he flooded the first floor, causing great damage and stopping work on many projects, when he was working with Ivanov?”

“You are a viper, Hilobok!” A voice came from the stretcher. The student lab assistant, clutching the edges, was trying to get up. “Oh, you… too bad we didn't take care of you then!”

Everyone turned to him.