Pinero smiled his irritating smile. “So? I should have guessed. Old Bidwell,
not so, of Amalgamated Life Insurance? And he wanted his trained seals to expose me
as a fraud, yes? For if I can tell a man the day of his own death, no one will buy
his pretty policies. But how can you expose me, if you will not listen to me first?
Even supposing you had the wit to understand me? Bah! He has sent jackals to tear
down a lion.” He deliberately turned his back on them. The muttering of the crowd
swelled and took on a vicious tone. The chairman cried vainly for order. There arose
a figure in the front row.
“Mister Chairman!”
The chairman grasped the opening and shouted, “Gentlemen! Doctor Van
RheinSmitt has the floor.” The commotion died away.
The doctor cleared his throat, smoothed the forelock of his beautiful white
hair, and thrust one hand into a side pocket of his smartly tailored trousers. He
assumed his women’s club manner.
“Mister Chairman, fellow members of the Academy of Science, let us have
tolerance. Even a murderer has the right to say his say before the state exacts its
tribute. Shall we do less? Even though one may be intellectually certain of the
verdict? I grant Doctor Pinero every consideration that should be given by this
august body to any unaffiliated colleague, even though” – he bowed slightly in
Pinero’s direction – “we may not be familiar with the university which bestowed his
degree. If what he has to say is false, it can not harm us. If what he has to say is
true, we should know it.” His mellow cultivated voice rolled on, soothing and
calming. “If the eminent doctor’s manner appears a trifle in urbane for our tastes,
we must bear in mind that the doctor may be from a place, or a stratum, not so
meticulous in these little matters. Now our good friend and benefactor has asked us
to hear this person and carefully assess the merit of his claims. Let us do so with
dignity and decorum.”
He sat down to a rumble of applause, comfortably aware that he had enhanced
his reputation as an intellectual leader. Tomorrow the papers would again mention
the good sense and persuasive personality of “America’s handsomest University
President”. Who knew? Perhaps old Bidwell would come through with that swimming pool
donation.
When the applause had ceased, the chairman turned to where the center of the
disturbance sat, hands folded over his little round belly, face serene.
“Will you continue, Doctor Pinero?”
“Why should I?”
The chairman shrugged his shoulders. “You came for that purpose.”
Pinero arose. “So true. So very true. But was I wise to come? Is there
anyone here who has an open mind who can stare a bare fact in the face without
blushing? I think not. Even that so beautiful gentleman who asked you to hear me out
has already judged me and condemned me. He seeks order, not truth. Suppose truth
defies order, will he accept it? Will you? I think not. Still, if I do not speak,
you will win your point by default. The little man in the street will think that you
little men have exposed me, Pinero, as a hoaxer, a pretender. That does not suit my
plans. I will speak.”
“I will repeat my discovery. In simple language I have invented a technique
to tell how long a man will live. I can give you advance billing of the Angel of
Death. I can tell you when the Black Camel will kneel at your door. In five minutes
time with my apparatus I can tell any of you how many grains of sand are still left
in your hourglass.” He paused and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment no
one spoke. The audience grew restless. Finally the chairman intervened.
“You aren’t finished, Doctor Pinero?”
“What more is there to say?”
“You haven’t told us how your discovery works.”
Pinero’s eyebrows shot up. “You suggest that I should turn over the fruits
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of my work for children to play with. This is dangerous knowledge, my friend. I keep