His eyes started to stray toward the window, but the telephone recalled him.
"Professor Saylor?... I'm calling for Dr. Pollard. Could you come in and see Dr. Pollard this afternoon?... Four o'clock?... Thank you."
He leaned back with a smile. At least he had gotten the chairmanship.
It grew darker as the day progressed, the ragged clouds sweeping lower and lower. But the storm held off until almost four.
Big raindrops splattered the dusty steps as he ducked into the portico of the Administration Building. Thunder crackled and crashed, as if acres of metal sheeting were being shaken above the clouds. He turned back to watch. Lightning threw the Gothic roofs and towers into sharp relief. Again the crackle, building to a crash. He remembered he had left a window open in his office. But there was nothing that would be damaged by the wet.
Wind swooped down past the portico with a strident, pulsating roar. The unmusical voice that spoke into his ear had the same quality.
"Isn't it a pretty storm?"
Evelyn Sawtelle was smiling for once. It had a grotesque effect on her features, as if a horse had suddenly discovered how to smirk.
"You've heard the news, of course?" she went on. "About Hervey?"
Hervey popped out from behind her. He was grinning, too, but embarrassedly. He mumbled something that was lost in the storm, and extended his hand vaguely, as if he were in a receiving line.