"I have a better idea," Celia exclaimed. It was as though a new current of life, a new gusher of hope, had burst through the surface. "Let's go to Primus Gladus!"
It was four in the morning. We had told Solly and Dolly the straight story.
"Do you think we can get a berth on the ship?" my wife queried anxiously. "Is there any way you can help us?"
The Mendelsohns exchanged glances.
"I don't know," said Solly. "Truthfully. Let me think about it a few minutes."
"Since you've told us the truth about yourselves," said Dolly, "do you mind hearing some things you don't know about us?"
"All cards might as well be face up," I replied.
"Well listen, you two. It isn't easy to emigrate to another system. If you're a shlub, yes. But not if you're a soil chemist, or any other kind of scientist or advanced technician. Earth won't let the boys with know-how get out of its clutches." Dolly's eyes were burning with a message she only half-dared to communicate. "Does this give you any clues?" she asked, eagerly scanning our faces.
Suddenly the parts fit perfectly. "Solly! You did it deliberately. You washed out of school! You let your career fall to pieces. On purpose!"