"Yes, darling. Only one thing I want to ask you--that we don't talk
about this for a few days at least. I'm really terribly ashamed. But
I'm glad it's happened, remember that."
* * * * *
After Tansy was gone, Norman threw a fresh log on the fire, and sank
back in the easy-chair, watching the restless, rhythmic play of the
flames. Gradually his thoughts began to unkink. He found himself
wondering--not without admiration--at Tansy's relatively cool behavior.
He would never have dared to try reasoned argument on any other woman
in a similar situation. But that was like Tansy. Always fair. Always
willing to listen to logic. Empirical. Except that she had gotten off
on a crazy sidetrack.
He reached down to stroke Totem, who did not look away from the
hypnotic flames.
"Time we got to bed, old man. Must be about twelve. No--quarter-past
one."
As he slipped back the watch, the fingers of his other hand went
automatically to the charm at the end of the chain--more a locket than
a charm--a gift from Tansy.
He gazed ruminatingly at the flattened golden heart, weighed it in his
palm. It seemed perhaps a trifle heavier than its metal shell would
account for. He snapped up the cover with his thumbnail. There was no
regular way of getting at the space behind Tansy's photograph, so,
after a moment's hesitation, he carefully edged it out with a pencil
point.
Behind the photograph was a tiny packet, wrapped in the finest flannel.
Just like a woman, was his first thought--to seem to give in
completely, but to hold out on something.
Perhaps she had forgotten.
Angrily he tossed the packet into the fireplace. The photograph
fluttered along with it, lighted on the bed of embers, and flared
before he could snatch it out. He had a glimpse of Tansy's face curling
and blackening.
The packet took longer. A yellow glow crept across its surface, as the
nap singed. Then a wavering four-inch flame shot up.
Simultaneously a chill went through him, though he still felt the heat
from the embers. The room seemed to darken. There was a faint, mighty
roaring in his ears, as of motors far underground. He had the sense of
standing suddenly naked and unarmed before something menacingly alien.
Totem had turned around and was peering intently at the shadows in the
far corner. With an expectorant hiss she sprang sideways and darted
from the room.
He realized he was trembling. Nervous reaction, he told himself. Might
have known it was overdue.
The flame died, and once again there was only the bed of embers.
Explosively, the phone began to jangle.
"Professor Saylor? I just want to tell you that you're not going to get
away with what you're trying to do to me. I'm not going to be flunked
out of Hempnell without a protest."
The voice spluttered with rage. It was some moment before he recognized
the student and cut in.
"Now listen, Jennings, if you thought you were being treated unfairly,
why didn't you present your grievances three months ago, when you got
your grades?"
"Why? Because I let you pull the wool over my eyes. I didn't realize
until this minute that you were behind it all."
"Be reasonable. You flunked two courses besides mine last semester."
"Yes, because you dropped dirty hints. Poisoned everyone's mind against
me."
"And you mean to tell me you only realized it now?"
"Yes, I do. It just came to me in a flash as I was thinking here. I saw
your whole slimy plot. Oh, you were clever all right, but let me tell
you, Saylor--"
The voice ranted on. Twice his "But what possible motive could I--"
went disregarded. With a distasteful grimace he hung up.
He felt suddenly very tired. There was an unpleasant coincidence
tangled up in the events of the past few minutes, if you bothered to
figure it out, but a scientist ought to have a healthy disregard for
coincidences.
He put the screen in front of the fire and went to bed.