It was the price he would pay for the success that Ertene's science would bring him.
Yet he knew that if he continued as he had started, he would be all right. To be convincing in a lie, he knew that the first problem was to convince himself.
And so Guy Maynard went into the Board of Investigation almost self-convinced that his year of loneliness was a fact.
He didn't dare consider the future if he failed to convince the Board. Not only for himself, but for Ertene and Terra both. They—he dropped the awful possibility there. He stiffened his resolve and thrust the thought from his mind. There must be no slip.
So with a part of his mind fighting to keep from viewing utter chaos, and another part of his mind telling him that he was hiding his head in the sand like an ostrich, Guy Maynard entered the large room with the silent, waiting men.
He swallowed deeply as he noted the weight of the platinum braid and he took his appointed position with a qualm of misgiving.
VI.
Guy Maynard's eyes swept about the room and saw eyes that were quiet, and if they were not openly friendly, at least they were neither hostile nor doubtful. The Board of Investigation was composed of several high officers and a civilian. He glanced at the neat pile of papers that were placed on the table before his appointed position and glanced through the names of those present, wondering about the civilian; most of the officers he knew by sight.
He nodded to himself; the civilian was Thomas Kane, a news publisher, and therefore quite natural a presence in this investigation. The fact that he was the publisher himself, and not one of his hirelings gave the investigation the air of extreme secrecy, and Guy understood that whatever went on in this gathering today would be held in the utmost confidence until the necessities of living made the publicity of the conference desirable—if ever. The public would accept the word of the publisher with more credulity than they would a prepared statement issued for common consumption by a propaganda department.