Fred's departure left a vacuum in the conversation that took a minute to fill. John Henderson frowned himself back to where he had been before the boy had arrived. When he got there he frowned even more, because it was a state of mental confusion that seemed to have no way of being resolved. "Maybe we can get at it this way," he said. "Let's postulate that your theory is the only logical basis on which reality can rest. B, quite obviously reality does not rest on this basis. We could make C, therefore, that reality doesn't rest on a logical basis. But that doesn't seem to satisfy me. Maybe C could be--no--" He glanced at his watch, lifted his eyebrows and stood up. "I really didn't know it was so late. I'll have to be going, Martin. An eight o'clock lecture in the morning." Martin made a wry face. "You've awakened my own conscience. I have an hour or two of work yet before bedtime." The two men went to the front door. John said, "Thank your wife again for me. Wonderful dinner. You're lucky, Martin, to have such a good cook." * * * * * That had been six weeks before John Henderson vanished. Martin Grant mentioned this visit to Horace Smith, one of the teachers in his department, and got himself and his wife invited for dinner on the following Friday. Dinner over, the two professors retired to the library. Two and a half hours later Horace had assimilated and grasped every detail of the theory. He then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, fingertips to temples, trying to find some flaw. Finally he shook his head. "It's no use," he said. "Your theory is logically inescapable. But--" He frowned. "Where does that place us? Probably where some schools of thought have always suspected we would wind up eventually. With the realization that the basic laws of the universe can't be reached by logic or even by experiment based upon logic." "I wouldn't say that," Martin objected. "My theory is an intellectual curiosity, that's all. That's the way I present it in my latest book. By the way, it's coming out soon. Signed the contract a month ago." He pulled his thoughts back to the conversation. "After all, one must hold onto the pragmatic approach to reality. Here is a theory that logic says must be the only possible way a universe can be constructed and operate. It's beautiful and logically complete, but not applicable. No pragmatic value." "Congratulations on the book. But, damn it," Horace said, "it attacks my most basic faith. Logic. Reason." "Faith?" Martin echoed, amused. "Yes, perhaps you're right. That's a word that's foreign to my thinking. Belief is so unnecessary." "You don't mean that." "But I do." Horace pondered. "I can prove otherwise. You believe--as an example--that your wife is faithful to you." It was a statement rather than a question.