“Snap out of it,” he said gruffly. “Don’t bawl over Ben—not in my presence. The worst that can possibly have happened to him is death . . . and that we are all in for—if not this morning, then in days, or weeks, or years at most. Talk to your protégé Mike about it. He regards ‘discorporation’ as less to be feared than a scolding—and he may be right. Why, if I told Mike we were going to roast him and serve him for dinner tonight, he would thank me for the honor with his voice choked with gratitude.”

“I know he would,” Jill agreed in a small voice, “but I don’t have his philosophical attitude about such things.”

“Nor do I,” Harshaw agreed cheerfully, “but I’m beginning to grasp it—and I must say that it is a consoling one to a man of my age. A capacity for enjoying the inevitable—why, I’ve been cultivating that all my life . . . but this infant from Mars, barely old enough to vote and too unsophisticated to stand clear of the horse cars, has me convinced that I’ve just reached the kindergarten class in this all-important subject. Jill, you asked if Mike was welcome to stay on. Child, he’s the most welcome guest I’ve ever had. I want to keep that boy around until I’ve found out what it is that he knows and I don’t! This ‘discorporation’ thing in particular . . . it’s not the Freudian ‘death-wish’ cliché, I’m sure of that. It has nothing to do with life being unbearable. None of that ‘Even the weariest river’ stuff—it’s more like Stevenson’s ‘Glad did I live and gladly die and I lay me down with a will!’ Only I’ve always suspected that Stevenson was either whistling in the dark, or, more likely, enjoying the compensating euphoria of consumption. But Mike has me halfway convinced that he really knows what he is talking about.”

“I don’t know,” Jill answered dully. “I’m just worried about Ben.”

“So am I,” agreed Jubal. “So let’s discuss Mike another time. Jill, I don’t think that Ben is simply hiding any more than you do.”

“But you said—”

“Sorry. I didn’t finish. My hired men didn’t limit themselves to Ben’s office and Paoli Flat. On Thursday morning Ben called at Bethesda Medical Center in company with the lawyer he uses and a Fair Witness—the famous James Oliver Cavendish, in case you follow such things.”

“I don’t, I’m afraid.”

“No matter. The fact that Ben retained Cavendish shows how seriously he took the matter; you don’t hunt rabbits with an elephant gun. The three were taken to see the ‘Man from Mars’—”

Gillian gaped, then said explosively, “That’s impossible! They couldn’t have come on that floor without my knowing it!”

“Take it easy, Jill. You’re disputing a report by a Fair Witness . . . and not just any Fair Witness. Cavendish himself. If he says it, it’s gospel.”

“I don’t care if he’s the Twelve Apostles! He wasn’t on my floor last Thursday morning!”

“You didn’t listen closely. I didn’t say that they were taken to see our friend Mike—I said they were taken to see ‘The Man from Mars.’ The phony one, obviously—that actor fellow they stereovised.”

“Oh. Of course. And Ben caught them out!”

Jubal looked pained. “Little girl, count to ten thousand by twos while I finish this. Ben did not catch them out. In fact, even the Honorable Mr. Cavendish did not catch them out—at least he won’t say so. You know how Fair Witnesses behave.”

“Well . . . no, I don’t. I’ve never had any dealings with Fair Witnesses.”

“So? Perhaps you weren’t aware of it. Anne!”

Anne was seated on the springboard; she turned her head. Jubal called out, “That new house on the far hilltop—can you see what color they’ve painted it?”

Anne looked in the direction in which Jubal was pointing and answered, “It’s white on this side.” She did not inquire why Jubal had asked, nor make any comment.

Jubal went on to Jill in normal tones, “You see? Anne is so thoroughly indoctrinated that it doesn’t even occur to her to infer that the other side is probably white, too. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t force her to commit herself as to the far side . . . unless she herself went around to the other side and looked—and even then she wouldn’t assume that it stayed whatever color it might be after she left . . . because they might repaint it as soon as she turned her back.”