As he spoke the servant came in, bringing the _Evening Standard_.
May took it, glanced at the middle page, and then, with a little start,
looked across at her husband. He saw her glance. "Any news?" he asked.
"The Professor can't be convinced," she said. "His illness took a sudden
turn for the worse last night and he died this afternoon at three
o'clock."
Quisante sat quite still for a few minutes, the dead Professor's report
on the Alethea Printing Press still in his fingers.
"What'll you do now?" she asked, with the smile of curiosity which she
always had ready for his plans. Would he pursue the Professor beyond
Charon's stream?
He hesitated a little, glancing at her rather uneasily. At last he spoke.
"One thing at all events is clear to me," he said. "This thing doesn't
represent a reasoned and well-informed opinion." He folded it up
carefully and placed it by itself in a long envelope. "We must consider
our course," he ended.
In a flash, by an instinct, May knew what their course would be and at
whose dictation it would be followed.
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