"Coincidence," he said. "It's true that liver cells have doubled chromosomes, but that isn't the reason for the color." "What does all this mean, then?" asked Truggles. Allison laid his half-smoked cigar carefully on the edge of the ashtray and gazed at Truggles through his spectacles. "Blan Forsythe is a new species," he said slowly. "He is not man. Everyone has theorized that a superman might arise from a mutation, perhaps caused by radiation. My God, a hundred mutations of individual genes wouldn't make a superman overnight! But Blan Forsythe is one--a tetraploid man--a superman." "And what is a superman, Dr. Allison?" asked Truggles drily, thinking of Nietzsche and the Sunday comic strips. "Who knows? How can you and I comprehend the novel qualities, the undreamed-of abilities of such a creature? Do you think a mouse could understand a man's ability to reason, to talk, to build machines? Blan may not realize them himself. After all, he was reared in a human society, and no doubt the tetraploid rodent which is our ancestor seemed little different from his associates. There are two things I'm sure of: the differences are there, and they are qualities you and I could never point to and say, 'This is an ability of the superman.'" Truggles' mouth twisted in a crooked smile. Allison had allowed his enthusiasm to draw him out. Allison was vulnerable now. "And because this man--this creature--is different, you allow him to cuckold you?" he demanded in a low, ugly voice. Allison was not vulnerable. "Don't let Phyllis mislead you," he said quietly. "She thinks Donald is Blan's child because she always yearned to give Blan the child he wanted. Donald was born two years after they were divorced." "She seems very sure," insinuated Truggles. "It is possible for a tetraploid to be fertile in a mating with a normal diploid," said Allison. "Persian wheat, with 14 chromosomes, crossed with a grass which has seven chromosomes, to produce common wheat. That was Blan's hope while he and Phyllis were married, and it's still his hope with the others. I was his doctor and associate then, as I am now. Neither Phyllis nor Donald has more than the normal number of chromosomes, and Blan has not seen Phyllis since they were divorced." "What, then, Dr. Allison, is this 'Power' that your wife says the boy has?" Allison's face froze. "That is a family matter, Mr. Truggles," he said icily. "I do not discuss my son's characteristics with strangers. Good night, sir." Truggles saw Phyllis Allison as he left the house. Dr. Allison remained in his study when Truggles left, and Phyllis stepped from the darkened doorway of the dining room as Truggles opened the front door. "Mr. Truggles," she said, placing her hand on his arm, "I don't know what your object is, but don't make any trouble for Blan Forsythe."