Villiers would have been more. They knew that, too. It was that knowledge, as well as guilt, which kept them antagonistic.
Talliaferro felt uneasily that Villiers, despite everything, was yet to be
more. The others must be thinking so, too, and mediocrity could grow quickly unbearable. The mass-transference paper would come to pass and Villiers would be the great man after all, as he was always fated to be apparently, while his classmates, with all their advantages, would be forgotten. Their role would be no more than to applaud from the crowd.
He felt his own envy and chagrin and was ashamed of it, but felt it none the less.
Conversation died, and Kaunas said, his eyes turning away, "Listen, why don't we drop in on old Villiers?"
There was a false heartiness about it, a completely unconvincing effort at casualness. He added, "No use leaving bad feelings-unnecessarily-"
Talliaferro thought: He wants to make sure about the mass-transference. He's hoping it is only a madman's nightmare so he can sleep tonight.
But he was curious himself, so he made no objection, and even Ryger shrugged with ill grace and said, "Hell, why not?"
It was a little before eleven then.
Talliaferro was awakened by the insistent ringing of his door signal. He hitched himself to one elbow in the darkness and felt distinctly outraged. The soft glow of the ceiling indicator showed it to be not quite four in the morning.
He cried out, "Who is it?"
The ringing continued in short, insistent spurts.
Growling, Talliaferro slipped into his bathrobe. He opened the door and blinked in the corridor light. He recognized the man who faced him from the trimensionals he had seen often enough.
Nevertheless, the man said in an abrupt whisper, "My name is Hubert Mandel."
"Yes, sir," said Talliaferro. Mandel was one of the Names in astronomy, prominent enough to have an important executive position with the World Astronomical Bureau, active enough to be Chairman of the Astronautics section here at the Convention.
It suddenly struck Talliaferro that it was Mandel for whom Villiers claimed to have demonstrated mass-transference. The thought of Villiers was somehow a sobering one.
Mandel said, "You are Dr. Edward Talliaferro?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then dress and come with me. It is very important. It concerns a mutual acquaintance."
"Dr. Villiers?"
Mandel's eyes flickered a bit. His brows and lashes were so fair as to give those eyes a naked, unfringed appearance. His hair was silky-thin, his age about fifty.
He said, "Why Villiers?"
"He mentioned you last evening. I don't know any other mutual acquaintance."
Mandel nodded, waited for Talliaferro to finish slipping into his clothes, then turned and led the way. Ryger and Kaunas were waiting in a room one floor above Talliaferro's. Kaunas's eyes were red and troubled. Ryger was smoking a cigarette with impatient puffs.
Talliaferro said, "We're all here. Another reunion." It fell flat.
He took a seat and the three stared at one another. Ryger shrugged.
Mandel paced the floor, hands deep in his pockets. He said, "I apologize for any inconvenience, gentlemen, and I thank you for your co-operation. I would like more of it. Our friend, Romero Villiers, is dead. About an hour ago, his body was removed from the hotel. The medical judgment is heart failure."
There was a stunned silence. Ryger's cigarette hovered halfway to his lips, then sank slowly without completing its journey.
"Poor devil," said Talliaferro.
"Horrible," whispered Kaunas hoarsely. "He was-" His voice played out.
Ryger shook himself. "Well, he had a bad heart. There's nothing to be done."
"One little thing," corrected Mandel quietly. "Recovery."
"What does that mean?" asked Ryger sharply.
Mandel said, "When did you three see him last?"
Talliaferro spoke. "Last evening. It turned out to be a reunion. We all met for the first time in ten years. It wasn't a pleasant meeting, I'm sorry to say. Villiers felt he had cause for anger with us, and he was angry."
"That was-when?"
"About nine, the first time."
"The first time?"
"We saw him again later in the evening."
Kaunas looked troubled. "He had left angrily. We couldn't leave it at that. We had to try. It wasn't as if we hadn't all been friends at one time. So we went to his room and-"
Mandel pounced on that. "You were all in his room?"
"Yes," said Kaunas, surprised.
"About when?"
"Eleven, I think." He looked at the others. Talliaferro nodded.
"And how long did you stay?"
"Two minutes," put in Ryger. "He ordered us out as though we were after his paper." He paused as though expecting Mandel to ask what paper, but Mandel said nothing. He went on. "I think he kept it under his pillow. At least he lay across the pillow as he yelled at us to leave."
"He may have been dying then," said Kaunas, in a sick whisper.
"Not then," said Mandel shortly. "So you probably all left fingerprints."
"Probably," said Talliaferro. He was losing some of his automatic respect