The desk clerk said, "A gentleman to see you, sir. Shall I send him to
Apt. 5B?"
"No," Bill answered. "I'll be down to my room in a few moments and see
him there."
He turned to Margo. "I guess business comes before idyll, Margo. I've
got to go."
Her lustrous dark eyes searched his face intently. "How long must I
wait for an answer, Bill?"
"Can you wait until Thursday--three days?" Time enough to thresh
things out with Tom.
"I guess I can," Margo said, touching him with an inviting glance,
"but do I have to wait that long before I see you again?"
Bill grinned and shook his head in wonder. "My lord, what persistence!
I got an idea any visiting would not be entirely social. Somewhere
along the line business would rear its shaggy head. Okay, how about
dinner at the Wedgewood Room tomorrow night?"
"Wonderful!"
Later at his own floor to his surprise he found Tom pacing the
corridor. In a strained voice he said, "The clerk said a gentleman--"
Tom came back in a conciliatory tone, "And I don't fit the
description, eh? Well, anyway, Bill, we got things to talk over. How
about it?"
Bill shrugged noncommittally, unlocked his door and the two entered.
Perched on the arm of a chair, Bill lighted a cigarette and pulled
deeply of it.
"Well, what is it?" He glanced coolly at his brother sitting with his
left leg dangling over the arm of his chair.
Tom cleared his throat and said, "I--er, came to see how we're
stacking up, Bill. After all we got a big show on our hands and the
whole world is waiting for the curtain to go up. But we can't be
squabbling between ourselves when we go on stage. Let's settle matters
now and get on with our job--after all we both got a lot at stake in
the company."
Bill studied the end of his cigarette a long moment. "I guess you
might as well count me out, Tom. I'm quitting the show."
Furrows appeared above Tom's brows. "Quitting! And after all you've
put into the venture? Bill, have you gone nuts?" He stopped a moment.
Then he said, "Oh, I guess I see the light. Christy, eh? Well, Bill,
honest--and I really mean this--you can have all the profits of the
trip if I'm guilty of trying to take Christy away from you. You've got
the wrong slant on things."
Bill shrugged, saying, "It's not that--and I still am not
convinced--it's just that I'm considering another proposition."
Tom got to his feet in agitation, looking down at Bill incredulously.
"My God, Bill, you sure have changed! What about all those bull
sessions we had reading and rereading the George Staker philosophy of
free enterprise? The world needs an object lesson to show how far it
has strayed from those first wonderful days of the Atomic Age. We are
heirs, Bill by special franchise, Old George saw the shape of things
to come pretty clearly, and it's up to us to carry out his vision of
things as they should be."
Bill ground out his cigarette in a tray. His underlip crowded out
stubbornly. "I'm not going."
For a moment Tom stared hard at Bill, and a heavy singing silence lay
between them. Then Tom strode to the door and opened it. "All right,
Bill--you and I are through!"
The door slammed. For awhile Bill sat looking at it, wondering why the
slammed door reminded him of looking at his reflection in the bathroom
mirror and telling himself "I'm scared--scared as hell. And if I don't
get hold of myself, I'm through--washed up!"
* * * * *
The next day when he was busily dressing, the ultrafax popped out the
breakfast edition.
"_Space Bird_ takes off for Beta Quadrant. Tom Staker gambles all."
Bill stared at the pictures of the rocket climbing savagely at the
head of a column of fire. The crazy, stubborn fool. Going it alone,
risking his neck and everybody else's aboard. Well, let him go out
there and break his blasted neck on the Asteroid Belt.
For the next three days Bill saw much of Margo. She was the most
exciting thing he had ever discovered, and he indulged her laughingly
when she took to speaking of his position in Intercontinental Lines as
an accomplished fact.
On the third day he took Margo to lunch, a Margo with shining eyes,
for this was Bill's day of decision. She had done her work well.