, Curt kept the conversation on Fred's
father. It was, Fred sensed, the right time to bring up the theory. Curt
would do anything to please him, to draw him out.

But he hesitated. Stretching elaborately, he said, "I'm sleepy. Why
don't you and Mom play Canasta or something?"

"I'm going to be much too busy," his mother said. "I have to finish
proofreading your father's book for the publisher. Mr. Browne is finally
going to print it, and wants it back right away."

"When did that happen?" Fred demanded. "Can I read it?"

"You can read it when it comes out. Now you and Curt go into the study
and leave me alone." She herded them out of the room.

This interlude had served to strengthen Fred's resolve. Alone with the
psychiatrist, he let slip that he knew of a wonderful theory his father
had originated, then tried to cover up.

Curt used flattery. Fred took his cue and slyly bragged that it was a
theory few college professors could understand even, but he understood
it.

More coaxing and he was ready to start in. But his conscience got the
better of him. He balked, and even as he tried to squirm out of it he
realized that it was too late. Dr. Gaard would never rest until the
theory had been told.

"I'll tell you the next time you come," he suggested as a last retreat.

"Tonight," Curt said. "Even if it takes all night. You can miss school
tomorrow." He winked. "I can okay it with the teacher."

"All right," Fred said in sudden crystallization of decision. "But only
if you agree to master every step of it, stopping me until you have."
Curt agreed. He started in.

After half an hour it settled into serious listening on Curt's part, and
pertinent questions that made Fred realize he was dealing with a mind of
more than average keenness.

Fred's mother wandered in occasionally, and out again, without being
noticed by either of them.

An hour passed. Two. The final steps were drawing nearer. At times Curt
was even anticipating some of them. It was midnight when it was
finished. The mind of Curt Gaard held the entire pattern.

Fred couldn't take his eyes off the man's face. The face that was
mirroring the rapid flow of thoughts as it reviewed and attacked every
brick in the structure, finding it solid, and solidly cemented to its
neighbors.

Then he saw a change come over the man's face. He had accepted the
theory. Now he was trying to integrate it into the problem of Fred
Grant. He hadn't yet seen the connecti