He left Curt's office highly exhilarated, almost drunk with the emotion of things working right. It lasted until the following evening when the doctor showed up and he and Fred's mother put on their little act. Then his emotions swung the other way. He experienced a reluctance to go through with his plans. There was too much that was likeable about the man. And his mother did like him. "Poor Dad," Fred thought. After dinner the next evening, Curt kept the conversation on Fred's father. It was, Fred sensed, the right time to bring up the theory. Curt would do anything to please him, to draw him out. But he hesitated. Stretching elaborately, he said, "I'm sleepy. Why don't you and Mom play Canasta or something?" "I'm going to be much too busy," his mother said. "I have to finish proofreading your father's book for the publisher. Mr. Browne is finally going to print it, and wants it back right away." "When did that happen?" Fred demanded. "Can I read it?" "You can read it when it comes out. Now you and Curt go into the study and leave me alone." She herded them out of the room. This interlude had served to strengthen Fred's resolve. Alone with the psychiatrist, he let slip that he knew of a wonderful theory his father had originated, then tried to cover up. Curt used flattery. Fred took his cue and slyly bragged that it was a theory few college professors could understand even, but he understood it. More coaxing and he was ready to start in. But his conscience got the better of him. He balked, and even as he tried to squirm out of it he realized that it was too late. Dr. Gaard would never rest until the theory had been told. "I'll tell you the next time you come," he suggested as a last retreat. "Tonight," Curt said. "Even if it takes all night. You can miss school tomorrow." He winked. "I can okay it with the teacher." "All right," Fred said in sudden crystallization of decision. "But only if you agree to master every step of it, stopping me until you have." Curt agreed. He started in. After half an hour it settled into serious listening on Curt's part, and pertinent questions that made Fred realize he was dealing with a mind of more than average keenness. Fred's mother wandered in occasionally, and out again, without being noticed by either of them. An hour passed. Two. The final steps were drawing nearer. At times Curt was even anticipating some of them. It was midnight when it was finished. The mind of Curt Gaard held the entire pattern. Fred couldn't take his eyes off the man's face. The face that was mirroring the rapid flow of thoughts as it reviewed and attacked every brick in the structure, finding it solid, and solidly cemented to its neighbors. Then he saw a change come over the man's face. He had accepted the theory. Now he was trying to integrate it into the problem of Fred Grant. He hadn't yet seen the connection between the theory and the mysterious disappearances.