He was close enough to her to hear her words to the boy.
"Donnie!" she urged anxiously. "You remember the game we played? Use the Power!"
The boy looked apprehensively toward the porch.
"Daddy said don't," he demurred.
Dr. Alex Allison stood, his hands gripping the rail of the porch, looking out over the ugly crowd. There was no mistaking the moment. At any instant, the mob would surge over the porch.
"Blan, I can't let them kill you because I've wronged you," said Allison in a clear, agonized voice. "Donald is your son!"
There was a cry from Phyllis and she clutched the boy convulsively, twisting free of Truggles' grip. The people on the lawn fell silent, their upturned faces white in the light, waiting, sensing the import of the revelation.
"I told you there was the possibility that the tetraploid could reproduce with the diploid," said Allison. "It's true Donald's cells don't contain 96 chromosomes—but neither do they contain just 48. They contain 72 chromosomes—an even number, a viable number! Not always, but sometimes the hybrid is superior to both diploid and tetraploid. Blan, with all your unexplored qualities, you're just the vehicle of the new race. Donald is the superman!"
"But it's impossible!" exclaimed Forsythe. "I haven't even seen Phyllis since we were divorced."
"Did you think the tetraploid, the new species, would have the same gestation period as man?" asked Allison. "The gestation period is thirty months. Phyllis was pregnant when you were divorced, Blan, but I loved her and I didn't let either of you know. I wanted her for myself."