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admission that none of them had come to much. Talliaferro had followed the
literature and knew. His own papers had been minor. The others had authored
nothing of great importance.
None of them--face the fact--had developed into space-shakers. The
colossal dreams of school days had not come true and that was that. They were
competent routine workmen. No less. Unfortunately, no more. They knew that.
Villiers would have been more. They knew that, too. It was that
knowledge, as well as guilt, which kept them antagonistic.
Talliaferro felt uneasily that Villiers, despite everything, was yet to
be more. The others must be thinking so, too, and mediocrity could grow
quickly unbearable. The mass-transference paper would come to pass and
Villiers would be the great man after all, as he was always fated to be
apparently, while his classmates, with all their advantages, would be
forgotten. Their role would be no more than to applaud from the crowd.
He felt his own envy and chagrin and was ashamed of it, but felt it none
the less.
Conversation died, and Kaunas said, his eyes turning away, "Listen, why
don't we drop in on old Villiers?"
There was a false heartiness about it, a completely unconvincing effort
at casualness. He added, "No use leaving bad feelings--unnecessarily--"
Talliaferro thought: He wants to make sure about the mass-transference.
He's hoping it is only a madman's nightmare so he can sleep tonight.
But he was curious himself, so he made no objection, and even Ryger
shrugged with ill grace and said, "Hell, why not?"
It was a little before eleven then.
Talliaferro was awakened by the insistent ringing of his door signal. He
hitched himself to one elbow in the darkness and felt distinctly outraged. The
soft glow of the ceiling indicator showed it to be not quite four in the
morning.
He cried out, "Who is it?"
The ringing continued in short, insistent spurts.
Growling, Talliaferro slipped into his bathrobe. He opened the door and
blinked in the corridor light. He recognized the man who faced him from the
trimensionals he had seen often enough.
Nevertheless, the man said in an abrupt whisper, "My name is Hubert
Mandel."
"Yes, sir," said Talliaferro. Mandel was one of the Names in astronomy,
prominent enough to have an important executive position with the World
Astronomical Bureau, active enough to be Chairman of the Astronautics section
here at the Convention.
It suddenly struck Talliaferro that it was Mandel for whom Villiers
claimed to have demonstrated mass-transference. The thought of Villiers was
somehow a sobering one.
Mandel said, "You are Dr. Edward Talliaferro?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then dress and come with me. It is very important. It concerns a mutual
acquaintance."
"Dr. Villiers?"
Mandel's eyes flickered a bit. His brows and lashes were so fair as to
give those eyes a naked, unfringed appearance. His hair was silky-thin, his
age about fifty.
He said, "Why Villiers?"
"He mentioned you last evening. I don't know any other mutual
acquaintance."
Mandel nodded, waited for Talliaferro to finish slipping into his
clothes, then turned and led the way. Ryger and Kaunas were waiting in a room
one floor above Talliaferro's. Kaunas's eyes were red and troubled. Ryger was
smoking a cigarette with impatient puffs.
Talliaferro said, "We're all here. Another reunion." It fell flat.
He took a seat and the three stared at one another. Ryger shrugged.
Mandel paced the floor, hands deep in his pockets. He said, '"I
apologize for any inconvenience, gentlemen, and I thank you for your
co-operation. I would like more of it. Our friend, Romero Villiers, is dead.
About an hour ago, his body was removed from the hotel. The medical judgment
is heart failure."
There was a stunned silence. Ryger's cigarette hovered halfway to his
lips, then sank slowly without completing its journey.
"Poor devil," said Talliaferro.
"Horrible," whispered Kaunas hoarsely. "He was--" His voice played out.
Ryger shook himself. "Well, he had a bad heart. There's nothing to be
done."
"One little thing," corrected Mandel quietly. "Recovery."
"What does that mean?" asked Ryger sharply.
Mandel said, "When did you three see him last?"
Talliaferro spoke, "Last evening. It turned out to be a reunion. We all
met for the first time in ten years. It wasn't a pleasant meeting, I'm sorry
to say. Villiers felt he had cause for anger with us, and he was angry."
"That was--when?"
" About nine, the first time."
"The first time?"
"We saw him again later in the evening."
Kaunas looked troubled. "He had left angrily. We couldn't leave it at
that. We had to try. It wasn't as if we hadn't all been friends at one time.
So we went to his room and--"
Mandel pounced on that. "You were all in his room?"
"Yes," said Kaunas, surprised.
"About when?"
"Eleven, I think." He looked at the others. Talliaferro nodded.
"And how long did you stay?"
"Two minutes," put in Ryger. "He ordered us out as though we were after
his paper." He paused as though expecting Mandel to ask what paper, but Mandel
said nothing. He went on. "I think he kept it under his pillow. At least he
lay across the pillow as he yelled at us to leave."
"He may have been dying then," said Kaunas, in a sick whisper.
"Not then," said Mandel shortly. "So you probably all left
fingerprints."
"Probably," said Talliaferro. He was losing some of his automatic
respect for Mandel and a sense of impatience was returning. It was four in the
morning, Mandel or no. He said, "Now what's all this about?"
"Well, gentlemen," said Mandel, "there's more to Villiers' death than
the fact of death. Villiers' paper, the only copy of it as far as I know, was
stuffed into the cigarette flash-disposal unit and only scraps of it were
left. I've never seen or read the paper, but I knew enough about the matter to
be willing to swear in court if necessary that the remnants of unflashed paper
in the disposal unit were of the paper he was planning to give at this
Convention. --You seem doubtful, Dr. Ryger."
Ryger smiled sourly. "Doubtful that he was going to give it. If you want
my opinion, sir, he was mad. For ten years he was a prisoner of Earth and he
fantasied mass-transference as escape. It was all that kept him alive
probably. He rigged up some sort of fraudulent demonstration. I don't say it
was deliberate fraud. He was probably madly sincere, and sincerely mad. Last
evening was the climax. He came to our rooms--he hated us for having escaped
Earth--and triumphed over us. It was what he had lived for for ten years. It
may have shocked him back to some form of sanity. He knew he couldn't actually
give the paper; there was nothing to give. So he burnt it and his heart gave
out. It is too bad."
Mandel listened to the Cerian astronomer, wearing a look of sharp
disapproval. He said, "Very glib, Dr. Ryger, but quite wrong. I am not as
easily fooled by fraudulent demonstrations as you may believe. Now according
to the registration data, which I have been forced to check rather hastily,
you three were his classmates at college. Is that right?"
They nodded.
"Are there any other classmates of yours present at the Convention?"
"No," said Kaunas. "We were the only four qualifying for a doctorate in
astronomy that year. At least he would have qualified except--"
"Yes, I understand," said Mandel. "Well, then, in that case one of you
three visited Villiers in his room one last time at midnight."
There was a short silence. Then Ryger said coldly, "Not I." Kaunas, eyes
wide, shook his head.
Talliaferro said, "What are you implying?"
"One of you came to him at midnight and insisted on seeing his paper. I
don't know the motive. Conceivably, it was with the deliberate intention of
forcing him into heart failure. When Villiers collapsed, the criminal, if I
may call him so, was ready. He snatched the paper which. I might add, probably
was kept under his pillow and scanned it. Then he destroyed the paper itself
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