“I assure you he can,” Mordan stated, from his own inner knowledge. “But, I take it, either way, you would feel that the question you posed to me in our first interview was fairly answered.” “Mmm, yes.”
“Whereupon you would be willing to co-operate in the genetics program planned for you?”
“Yes, if.”
“I don’t propose to give you an answer here and now,” Mordan answered equably. “Would you be willing to cooperate if you knew that a serious attempt was being made to answer your question?”
“Easy there! Wait a minute. You-win-and-I-lose. I ought to be entitled to look at the answer. Suppose you do assign someone to look into the matter and he comes back with a negative report-after I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain?”
“It would be necessary for you to place credence in me. Such a research might not be completed in years, or in our lifetimes. But suppose I declare to you that such a research were to be attempted, seriously, hard headedly, all out, and no trouble spared, would you then consent to co-operate?”
Hamilton covered his face with his hands. There were myriad factors revolving in his brain-some of which he was not fully aware of, none of which he wished to talk about. “If you did-if you did-I think perhaps — ”
“Here, here,” a voice boomed in the room. “What’s going on in here? Mustn’t excite yourselves yet.”
“Hello, Joseph,” Mordan greeted the newcomer.
“Morning, Claude. Feel better?”
“Much.”
“You still need sleep. Put yourself to sleep.”
“Very well.” Mordan closed his eyes.
The man called Joseph stepped up to Felix, felt his wrist, peeled back his eyelid, and examined the eye. “You’ll do.”
“I want to get up.”
“Not yet. I want you to sleep for a few hours first. Look at me. You feel sleepy. You — ”
Felix tore his gaze away from the man’s eyes, and said, “Claude!”
“He’s asleep. You can’t possibly wake him.”
“Oh. See here, you’re a therapist, aren’t you?”
“Certainly.”
“Is there anything that can be done to cure snoring?”
The man chuckled. “All I can suggest is that you sleep through it. Which is what I want you to do now. You are sleepy. You are falling asleep. Sleep…”
When they let him go he tried to look up Phyllis, It was difficult to find her, to begin with, since the meager hospital accommodations of the city were overcrowded and she had been ministered to, as he had been, in temporary quarters. When he did find her, they wouldn’t let him in-she was sleeping, they said. Nor were they inclined to give him any information as to her condition; he could show no claim on such knowledge and it was clearly in the private sphere.
He made such a nuisance of himself that he was finally told that she was entirely well, save for a slight indisposition pursuant to gas poisoning. He had to be contented with that.
He might have gotten himself into serious trouble had he been dealing with a man, but his argument was with a grimly inflexible matron, who was about twice as tough as he was.
He had the faculty of dismissing from mind that which could not be helped. Phyllis was not on his mind once he had turned away. He started for his apartment automatically, then recalled, for the first time in a good many hours, Monroe-Alpha.
The fool, the silly fool! He wondered what had happened to him. He was reluctant to inquire since to do so might give away his connection with the conspiracy. It seemed likely that he had already found some means to do that himself.
It did not occur to him then, or at any other time, to “do the honorable thing” by reporting Monroe-Alpha. His morals were strictly pragmatic, and conformed to accepted code as closely as they did only through a shrewd and imaginative self-interest.
He called Monroe-Alpha’s office-no, he was not there. He called his apartment. No answer. Temporarily blocked, he decided to go to his friend’s apartment on the assumption that he might show up there first.
He got no response at the door. He knew the combination but ordinarily would not think of using it. This seemed to him an extraordinary occasion.