Each participant was to have received a specific word or name which was directly connected with his field of teaching. The first letter of each word, formed an acrostic reading down which spelled out: T-E-L-E-P-A-T-H-Y The cards the professors had handed in were also there beside us on the table. I went through those cards again, slowly, while De Vaca and Morrison and Billingsley debated as to the best way of locating Marsten. I wanted to do more than just find Marsten. I wanted to be able to help him when he was found. The cards the professors had handed in listed what they thought they had received from Marsten via mental telepathy. This is what they had written: _1. Shakespeare----Professor of English Literature_ _2. Darwin----Professor of Biology_ _3. Kidney----Professor of Anatomy_ _4. Debussey----Professor of Music_ _5. Opiate----Professor of Medicine_ _6. Adler----Professor of Psychology_ _7. Stalin----Professor in Russian History_ _8. Golf----Professor in Physical Education_ _9. Xmas----Professor in Theosophy._ Each professor had written something _similar_ in meaning to what Marsten had tried, through mental telepathy, to put into their minds. Except in the case of the Professor of Psychology. And in that one case there was a direct hit, as Marsten had said. Oddly enough, Marian Adler had the same surname as the great psychoanalyst, Alfred Adler, whom Marsten had chosen for one of his projected thoughts. To me, the results did not seem the complete failure Marsten thought them. But of course Marsten had wanted to hit it one hundred percent. Nothing less would have satisfied a scientific mind like his in such an experiment. The acrostic: S-D-K-D-O-A-S-G-X formed by the words apparently received by the Professors in that locked room was merely a jumble of letters, spelling out nothing of any meaning. Finally, we parted to go our separate ways. I took the envelope and cards and went home. The others, with cars, would search for Marsten. I'd forgotten my work, my thesis, everything. I wanted to figure out something, but I didn't even know what it was. I had a most unscientific idea--a hunch! All day I thought and sweated over that envelope's contents, the cards, the two acrostics: T-E-L-E-P-A-T-H-Y and S-D-K-D-O-A-S-G-X I worked all that day and through the night, but I could make no connection between the two acrostics. Meanwhile, the search continued for Marsten, but there was no sign of him or his car. I sweated it out, trying to convince myself that he wasn't already dead, that when he was found I, meanwhile, would have found something in the remains of that experiment to give him new zest, new hope.