“I agree. Rodricks will have some information which is of doubtful truth, and of no practical value.”
“So it would seem,” said Karellen. “But let us not be too certain. Human beings are remarkably ingenious, and often very persistent. It is never safe to underrate them, and it will be interesting to follow Mr. Rodricks’ career. I must think about this further.”
Rupert Boyce never really got to the bottom of it. When his guests had departed, rather less boisterously than usual, he had thoughtfully rolled the table back into its corner. The mild alcoholic fog prevented any profound analysis of what had happened, and even the actual facts were already slightly blurred. He had a vague idea that something of great but elusive importance had happened, and wondered if he should discuss it with Rashaverak. On second thought, he decided it aught be tactless. After all, his brother-in-law had caused the trouble, and Rupert felt vaguely annoyed with young Jan. But was it Jan’s fault? Was it anybody’s fault? Rather guiltily, Rupert remembered that it had been his experiment. He decided, fairly successfully, to forget the whole business. Perhaps he might have done something if the last page of Ruth’s notebook could have been found, but it had vanished in the confusion. Jan always feigned innocence — and, well, one could hardly accuse Rashaverak. And no one could ever remember exactly what had been spelled out, except that it didn’t seem to make any sense.
The person most immediately affected had been George Greggson. He could never forget his feeling of terror as Jean pitched into his arms. Her sudden helplessness transformed her in that moment from an amusing companion to an object of tenderness and affection. Women had fainted — not always without forethought — since time immemorial, and men had invariably responded in the desired way. Jean’s collapse was completely spontaneous, but it could not have been better planned. In that instant, as he realized later, George came to one of the most important decisions of his life. Jean was definitely the girl who mattered, despite her queer ideas and queerer friends. He had no intention of totally abandoning Naomi or Joy or Elsa or — what was her name? — Denise; but the time had come for something more permanent. He had no doubt that Jean would agree with him, for her feelings had been quite obvious from the start. Behind his decision there was another factor of which, he was unaware. Tonight’s experience had weakened his contempt and skepticism for Jean’s peculiar interests. He would never recognize the fact, but it was so — and it had removed the last barrier between them.
He looked at Jean as she lay, pale but composed, in the reclining chair of the flyer. There was darkness below, stars above. George had no idea, to within a thousand kilometres, where they might be — nor did he care. That was the business of the robot that was guiding them homewards and would land them in, so the control board announced, fifty-seven minutes from now.
Jean smiled back at him and gently dislodged her hand from his.
“Just let me restore the circulation,” she pleaded, rubbing her fingers. “I wish you’d believe me when I tell you I’m perfectly all right now.”
“Then what do you think happened? Surely you remember something?”
“No — it’s just a complete blank. I heard Jan ask his question — and then you were all making a fuss over me. I’m sure it was some kind of trance. After all—”
She paused, then decided not to tell George that this sort of thing had happened before. She knew how he felt about these matters, and had no desire to upset him further — and perhaps scare him away completely.