r approach. He saw nothing
to indicate it in the experience of that day or the ones immediately
following. But he retained hope that there was much significance in the
action of the guide who had cut short their visit to the museum.

In the evenings, in the study lounge of the dormitory, they held
interminable bull sessions exchanging and digesting what they had been
shown during the day. It was at the end of the third day that Hockley
thought he could detect a subtle change in the group. He had some
difficulty analyzing it at first. It seemed to be a growing aliveness, a
sort of recovery. And then he recognized that the initial stunned
reaction to the magnificence of the Rykes was passing off. They had been
shocked by the impact of the Rykes, almost as if they had been struck a
blow on the head. Temporarily, they had shelved all their own analytical
and critical facilities and yielded to the Rykes without question.

Now they were beginning to recover, springing back to a condition
considerably nearer normal. Hockley felt a surge of encouragement as he
detected a more sharply critical evaluation in the conversations that
buzzed around him. The enthusiasm was more measured.

It was the following evening, however, that witnessed the first event of
pronounced shifting of anyone's attitude. They had finished dinner and
were gathering in the lounge, sparring around, setting up groups for the
bull sessions that would go until long after midnight. Most of them had
already settled down and were talking part in conversations or were
listening quietly when they were suddenly aware of a change in the
atmosphere of the room.

For a moment there was a general turning of heads to locate the source
of the disturbance. Hockley knew he could never describe just what made
him look around, but he was abruptly conscious that Dr. Silvers was
walking into the lounge and looking slowly about at those gathered
there. Something in his presence was like the sudden appearance of a
thundercloud, his face seemed to reflect the dark turbulence of a summer
storm.

He said nothing, however, to anyone but strode over and sat beside
Hockley, who was alone at the moment smoking the next to last of his
Earthside cigars. Hockley felt the smouldering turmoil inside the
mathematician. He extended his final cigar. Silvers brushed it away.

"The last one," said Hockley mildly. "In spite of all their abilities
the Ryke imitations are somewhat less than na