“It does not apply to me. To you.”
Irritably Martin thought, “Is he going into all this danger-of-rapid-success stuff again? I’m getting tired of it!”
Gottlieb ambled toward him. “It iss a pity, Martin, but you are not the discoverer of the X Principle.”
“Wh-what—”
“Some one else has done it.”
“They have not! I’ve searched all the literature, and except for Twort, not one person has even hinted at anticipating— Why, good Lord, Dr. Gottlieb, it would mean that all I’ve done, all these weeks, has just been waste, and I’m a fool—”
“Vell. Anyvay. D’Hérelle of the Pasteur Institute has just now published in the Comptes Rendus, Académie des Sciences, a report—it is your X Principle, absolute. Only he calls it ‘bacteriophage.’ So.”
“Then I’m—”
In his mind Martin finished it, “Then I’m not going to be a department-head or famous or anything else. I’m back in the gutter.” All strength went out of him and all purpose, and the light of creation faded to dirty gray.
“Now of course,” said Gottlieb, “you could claim to be codiscoverer and spend the rest of your life fighting to get recognized. Or you could forget it, and write a nice letter congratulating D’Hérelle, and go back to work.”