n, from the fall of the Bastile to the Ninth
Thermidor. I was in Basra, and saw that crazed tool of the Axis shoot
down Khalid ib'n Hussein--and the professor talked about it a month
before it happened. I have seen empires rise and stretch from star to
star across the Galaxy, and crumble and fall. I have seen...."

Doctor Hauserman had gotten his pen out of his pocket and was signing
the commitment form with one hand; with the other, he pressed a button
on the desk. A door at the rear opened, and a large young man in a
white jacket entered.

"You'll have to go away for a while, Professor," Hauserman was telling
him, much later, after he had allowed himself to become calm again.
"For how long, I don't know. Maybe a year or so."

"You mean to Northern State Mental?"

"Well.... Yes, Professor. You've had a bad crack-up. I don't suppose
you realize how bad. You've been working too hard; harder than your
nervous system could stand. It's been too much for you."

"You mean, I'm nuts?"

"Please, Professor. I deplore that sort of terminology. You've had a
severe psychological breakdown...."

"Will I be able to have books, and papers, and work a little? I
couldn't bear the prospect of complete idleness."

"That would be all right, if you didn't work too hard."

"And could I say good-bye to some of my friends?"

Hauserman nodded and asked, "Who?"

"Well, Professor Pottgeiter...."

"He's outside now. He was inquiring about you."

"And Stanly Weill, my attorney. Not business; just to say good-bye."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. He's not in town, now. He left almost
immediately after.... After...."

"After he found out I was crazy for sure? Where'd he go?"

"To Reno; he took the plane at five o'clock."

Weill wouldn't have believed, anyhow; no use trying to blame himself
for that. But he was as sure that he would never see Stanly Weill
alive again as he was that the next morning the sun would rise. He
nodded impassively.

"Sorry he couldn't stay. Can I see Max Pottgeiter alone?"

"Yes, of course, Professor."

Old Pottgeiter came in, his face anguished. "Ed! It isn't true," he
stammered. "I won't believe that it's true."

"What, Max?"

"That you're crazy. Nobody can make me believe that."

He put his hand on the old man's shoulder. "Confidentially, Max,
neither do I. But don't tell anybody I'm not. It's a secret."

Pottgeiter looked troubled. For a moment, he seemed to be wondering if
he mightn't be wrong