Dr. Nagle stopped with his hand on a doorknob. “This is our music class. We’ll be breaking into the middle of a session, but it will be all right if we don’t disturb the performer.”
Montgomery started to ask what possible reason there could be for a music class in an Institute supposedly devoted to advanced technology, but he didn’t get a chance. A wave of sound burst upon them as Nagle opened the door slowly. Montgomery caught sight of an enormous stage occupied by a symphony orchestra of at least a hundred pieces. Nagle beckoned him forward and closed the door.
There was a feeling of unreality about the place. While the music crashed and sang in torrents of melody, Montgomery stared about. The room facing the stage was tiny, and there were only five men present. Four of these seemed to be concentrating their attention, not on the orchestra, but on the fifth man, whose head nodded and jerked in rhythm with the music.
“Sit down,” Nagle whispered."
The back of the sandy-haired fifth man in the group seemed strangely familiar. Montgomery shifted until he got a better side view. Then he inhaled with involuntary sharpness. It was Norcross, the top design engineer who had first interested Gunderson in the Institute. Montgomery wondered why he was the center of interest now. Possibly he was the composer of the symphony? That seemed merely fantastic. Montgomery was certain he possessed no such talent.
In spite of his tense curiosity the major leaned back and gave himself over to the flowing warmth of the music. He was no critic. He didn’t know whether it was good or not. But it sounded good. As it picked up tempo to an almost frantic pace, they were joined by Soren Gunderson and Dr. Kenneth Berkeley.
The face of Norcross was filmed with perspiration now. His hands beat time as if he were actually conducting the orchestra himself. Then with a triumphant crash of sound the performance came to an end.
Norcross sank down in his chair, stretching his feet at full length and fanning his face wearily. The four other men gathered round and clapped his shoulder in hearty congratulations.
“Boy, I didn’t think I’d ever make it through that last movement!” Norcross exclaimed. “I bit off a little more than I could chew.”
Montgomery was scarcely listening. The stage had suddenly gone dark and the orchestra had vanished as if never there at all. And the stage was not enormous, after all. It was no wider than the end of the small room.