After ten days they dropped the case from the active blotter. The University, seeing that there was little likelihood of having to shell out the reward money, increased it to five hundred dollars.
But Martin Grant continued to ponder over a conversation he himself had had with John Henderson during a dinner six weeks to the day before his old friend had vanished. He remembered his own words...
"... and so you see, John, by following this trail, I've arrived at a theory that has to do with the basic nature of the universe—of all reality. Yet things don't behave as they would if my theory were operating."
John Henderson frowned into space, disturbed. Visibly disturbed. Martin watched him with a twinkle in his eyes.
"You must have gone off the track on it somewhere, Martin," John said suddenly, as though trying more to convince himself than his listener.
Martin shook his head with slow positiveness. "You followed every step. We spent four hours on it." He took pity on his friend. "Don't let it bother you. I regard it as just an intellectual curiosity. I've included it in my next book on that basis."
A new voice broke in. "What is it, Dad? One of your ten-thousand-word shaggy dog jokes?" This from Fred Grant, 16, student in the senior grade at the Hortense Bartholemew High School, and an only child of Martin Grant.
"A little more respect toward your father," Martin said with much sternness.
"Yes, Father."