“Probably not, sir. Good-bye.”
Brookings then took his personal typewriter out of a. drawer and typed busily for a few minutes. Among other things, he wrote:
“. . . and do not work on too much copper at once. I gather that an ounce or two should be enough. . . .”
Chapter 6
FROM daylight until late in the evening Seaton worked in the shop, sometimes supervising expert mechanics, sometimes working alone. Every night when Crane went to bed he saw Seaton in his room in a cloud of smoke, poring over blueprints or seated at the computer, making interminable calculations. Deaf to Crane’s remonstrances, he was driving himself at an unhuman rate, completely absorbed in his project. While he did not forget Dorothy, he had a terrific lot to do and none of it was getting done. He was going to see her just as soon as he was over this hump, he insisted; but every hump was followed by another, higher and worse. And day after day went by.
Meanwhile, Dorothy was feeling considerably glum. Here was her engagement only a week old—and what an engagement! Before that enchanted evening he had been an almost daily visitor. They had ridden and talked and played together, and he had forced his impetuous way into all her plans. Now, after she had promised to marry him, he had called once—at eleven o’clock!—with his mind completely out of this world, and she hadn’t even heard from him for six long days. A queer happening at the laboratory seemed scant excuse for such long-continued neglect, and she knew no other.
Puzzled and hurt, her mother’s solicitous looks unbearable, she left the house for a long, aimless walk. She paid no attention to the spring beauty around her. She did not even notice footsteps following her, and was too deeply engrossed in her own somber thoughts to be more than mildly suprised when Martin Crane spoke to her. For a while she tried to rouse herself into animation, but her usual ease had deserted her and her false gaiety did not deceive the keen-minded Crane. Soon they were walking along together in silence, a silence finally broken by the man.
“I have just left Seaton,” he said. Paying no attention to her startled glance, he went on, “Did you ever see anyone else with his singleness of purpose? Of course, though, that is one of the traits that make him what he is. . . . He is working himself into a breakdown. Has he told you about leaving the Rare Metals Laboratory?”
“No, I haven’t seen him since the night the accident, or discovery, or whatever it was, happened. He tried to explain it to me then, but what little I could understand of what he said sounded simply preposterous.”
“I can’t explain the thing to you—Dick himself can’t explain it to me—but I can give you an idea of what we both think it may come to.”
“I wish you would. I’ll be mighty glad to hear it.”
“Dick discovered something that converts copper into pure energy. That water-bath took off in a straight line—”
“That still sounds preposterous, Martin,” the girl interrupted, “even when you say it.”
“Careful, Dorothy,” he cautioned her. “Nothing that actually happens is or can be preposterous. But as I said, this copper bath left Washington in a straight line for scenes unknown. We intend to follow it in a suitable vehicle.”
He paused, looking at his companion’s face. She did not speak, and he went on in his matter-of-fact tone.
“Building the spaceship is where I come in. As you know, I have almost as much money as Dick has brains; and some day, before the summer is over, we expect to go somewhere . . . some place a considerable distance from this earth.”
Then, after enjoining strict secrecy, he told her what he had seen in the laboratory and described the present state of affairs.
“But if he thought of all that . . . was brilliant enough to work out such a theory and to actually plan such an unheard-of thing as space-travel . . . all on such a slight foundation of fact . . . why couldn’t he have told me?”
“He fully intended to. He still intends to. Don’t believe for a moment that his absorption implies any lack of love for you. I was coming to visit you about that when I saw you out here. He’s driving himself unmercifully. He eats hardly anything and doesn’t seem to sleep at all. He has to take it easy or break down, but nothing I can say has had any effect. Can you think of anything you, or you and I together, can do?”
Dorothy still walked along, but it was a different Dorothy. She was erect and springy, her eyes sparkled, all her charm and vitality were back in force.
“I’ll say I can!” she breathed. “I’ll stuff him to the ears and put him to sleep right after dinner, the big dope!”
This time it was Crane who was surprised, so surprised that he stopped, practically in mid-stride. “How?” he demanded. “You talk about something being preposterous—how?”
“Maybe you hadn’t better know the gory details.” She grinned impishly. “You lack quite a bit, Marty, of being the world’s best actor, and Dick mustn’t be warned. Just run along home, and be sure you’re there when I get there. I’ve got. to do some phoning. . . . I’ll be there at six o’clock, and tell Shiro not to make you two any dinner.”
She was there at six o’clock.
“Where is he, Marty? Out in the shop?”
“Yes.”
In the shop, she strode purposefully toward Seaton’s oblivious back. “Hi, Dick. How’s it coming?”
“Huh?” He started violently, almost jumping off his stool—then did jump off it as the knowledge filtered through that it was really Dorothy who was standing at his back. He swept her off her feet in the intensity of his embrace; she pressed her every inch tighter and tighter against his rock-hard body. Their lips met and clung.
Dorothy finally released herself enough to look into his eyes. “I was so mad, Dick. I simply didn’t know whether to kiss you or kill you, but I decided to kiss you—this time.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’ve been trying my level best to get a couple of hours to come over and see you, but everything’s been going so slow—my head’s so thick it takes a thousand years for an idea to percolate—”
“Hush! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this last week, especially today. I love you as you are. I can either do that or give you up. I can’t even imagine giving you up, because I know I’d cold-bloodedly strangle with her own hair any woman who ever cocked an eye at you. . . . Come on, Dick, no more work tonight. I’m taking you and Martin home for dinner.” Then, as his eyes strayed involuntarily back toward the computer, she said, more forcefully, “I—said—no—more—work—tonight. Do you want to fight about it?”
“Uh-uh! I’II say I don’t—I wasn’t even thinking of working!” Seaton was panic-stricken. “No fights, Dottie. Not with you. Ever. About anything. Believe me.”
“I do, lover,” and, arms around each other, they strolled unhurriedly up to and into the house.
Crane accepted enthusiastically—for him—the invitation to dinner, and was going to dress, but Dorothy would not have it.
“Strictly informal,” she insisted. “Just as you are.”
“I’ll wash up, then, and be with you in a sec,” Seaton said, and left the room. Dorothy turned to Crane.
“I’ve got a tremendous favor to ask of you, Martin. I drove the Cad—it’s air-conditioned, you know—could you possibly bring your Stradivarius along? My best violin would do, I’m sure, but I’d rather have the heaviest artillery I can get.”
“I see—at last.” Crane’s face lit up. “Certainly. Play it outdoors in the rain, if necessary. Masterful strategy, Dorothy—masterful.”
“Well, one does what one can,” Dorothy murmured in mock modesty. Then, as Seaton appeared, she said, “Let’s go, boys. Dinner is served at seven-thirty sharp, and we’re going to be there right on the chime.”
As they sat down at the table Dorothy studied again the changes that six days had made in Seaton. His face was pale and thin, almost haggard. Lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, and faint but unmistakable blue rings encircled his eyes.
“You’ve been going altogether too hard, Dick. You’ve got to cut down.”
“Oh no, I’m all right. I never felt better. I could whip a rattlesnake and give him the first bite!”
She laughed, but the look of concern did not leave her face.
During the meal no mention was made of the project, the conversation being deftly held to tennis, swimming, and other sports; and Seaton, whose plate was unobtrusively kept full, ate such a dinner as he had not eaten for weeks. After dessert they all went into the living room and ensconced themselves in comfortable chairs. The men smoked; all five continued their conversation.