Dr. Hale groaned. “Mike, I’m going to have to go to the university to work this out. So I can have access to the library and the star-globe there. You’re making an honest man out of me, Mike. Whatever kind of Scotch this is, wrap me up a bottle.”
“It’s Tartan Plaid. A quart?”
“A quart, and make it snappy. I’ve got to see a man about a dog-star.”
“Serious, Doc?”
Dr. Hale sighed audibly. ”
You brought that on yourself, Mike, Yes, the dog-star is Sirius. I wish I’d never come in here, Mike. My first night out in weeks, and you ruin it.”
He took a cab to the university, let himself in, and turned on the lights in his private study and in the library. Then he took a good stiff slug of Tartan Plaid and went to work.
First, by telling the chief operator who he was and arguing a bit, he got a telephone connection with the chief astronomer of Cole Observatory.
“This is Hale, Armbruster,” he said. “I’ve got an idea, but I want to check my facts before I start to work on it. Last information I had, there were four hundred and sixty-eight stars exhibiting new proper motion. Is that still correct?”
“Yes, Milton. The same ones are still at it, and no others.”