"And you say all of this—of this odd assortment you have brought here—is made up of sane men and women?" Justin asked.
"My dear Justin"—Ortine looked pained—"you must be more tolerant. Mind you, these people have been culled from all of human history. You must have seen quite a variety at mealtime."
"Quite," replied Justin. "Incidentally, your feeding arrangement is ingenious to put it mildly. How do you know I shan't take advantage of it to get drunk and foul up the assignment."
Ortine laughed openly. "My dear Justin," he repeated, "you are a sane man."
"Mr. Ortine," said Justin, "from what one or two of the others have said since I got here I am the last one they are waiting for."
"That," said Ortine, rising from the chair, "is entirely true."
Justin gulped as the implication sank home. If he were the last it meant, as his host had already implied, that the sands of Earth, or at least of human existence on Earth, had about run out. It implied that his was the ultimate decision upon which the final fate of the planet hung.
"Naturally," said Ortine pleasantly, "I shall give you time to become used to following the course you must take. You are perfectly free to roam Belvoir for the next few hours...."
V