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"I can guess," said Howard. "This little gadget is
ELSEWHEN 133
the mainstay of our systemwide pax. Ready, Doctor.
I'm getting kinda anxious,"
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"But you're not going, Doctor?" cried Helen. It
was both a question and a protest.
"I've got to guide him back," said Frost.
"Yes," Howard confirmed, "but he is staying to
live with us. Aren't you. Master?"
"Oh, no!" It was Helen again.
Igor put an arm around her. "Don't coax him," he
told her. "You know he has not been happy here- I
gather that Howard's home would suit him better. If
so, he's earned it."
Helen thought about it, then came up to Frost,
placed both hands on his shoulders, and kissed him,
standing on tiptoe to do so. "Goodbye, Doc," she
said in a choky voice, "or anyhow, au revoir!"
He reached up and patted one of her hands.
Frost lay in the sun, letting the rays soak into his
old bones. It was certainly pleasant here. He missed
Helen and Igor a little, but he suspected that they
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did not really miss him. And- life with Howard and
Star Light was more to his liking. Officially he was
tutor to their children, if and when. Actually he was
just as lazy and useless as he had always wanted to be,
with time on his hands. Time . . . Time.
There was just one thing that he would liked to
have known: What did Sergeant Izowsld say when he
looked up and saw that the police wagon was empty?
Probably thought it was impossible.
It did not matter. He was too lazy and sleepy to
care. Time enough for a little nap before lunch. Time
enough . . .
Time.
LOST
LEGACY
CHAPTER ONE
"Ye Have Eyes to See With!"
"HI-YAH, BUTCHER!" Doctor Philip Huxley put down
the dice cup he had been fiddling with as he spoke,
and shoved out a chair with his foot. "Sit down."
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The man addressed ostentatiously ignored the sal-
utation while handing a yellow sucker and soggy felt
hat to the Faculty Clubroom attendant, but accepted
the chair. His first words were to the negro attendant.
"Did you hear that, Pete? A witch doctor, passing
himself off as a psychologist, has the effrontery to
refer to me to me, a licensed physician and sur-
geon, as a butcher." His voice was filled with gentle
reproach.
"Don't let him kid you, Pete. If Doctor Cobum
ever got you into an operating theatre, he'd open up
your head just to see what makes you tick. He'd use
your skull to make an ashtray."
The colored man grinned as he wiped the table,
but said nothing.
Coburn clucked and shook his head. "That from a
137
138 Robert A. Hdnlein
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witch doctor. Still looking for the Little Man Who
Wasn't There, Phil?"
"If you mean parapsychology, yes."
"How's the racket coming?"
"Pretty good. I've got one less lecture this semes-
ter, which is just as well I get awfully tired of
explaining to the wide-eyed innocents how little we
really know about what goes on inside their think-
tanks. I'd rather do research."
"Who wouldn't? Struck any pay dirt lately?"
"Some. I'm having a lot of fun with a law student
just now, chap named Valdez."
Cobum lifted his brows. "So? E.S.P.?"
"Kinda. He's sort of a clairvoyant; if he can see one
side of an object, he can see the other side, too."
"Nuts!"
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" 'If you're so smart, why ain't you rich?' I've tried
him out under carefully controlled conditions, and
he can do it see around corners."
"Hmmmm well, as my Grandfather Stonebender
used to say, 'God has more aces up his sleeve than
were ever dealt in the game.' He would be a menace
at stud poker."
"Matter of fact, he made his stake for law school as
a professional gambler."
"Found out how he does it?"
"No, damn it." Huxley drummed on the table top,
a worried look on his face- "If I just had a little
money for research I might get enough data to make
this sort of thing significant. Look at what Rhine
accomplished at Duke."
"Well, why don't you holler? Go before the Board
and bite 'em in the ear for it. Tell 'em how you're
going to make Western University famous."
Huxley looked still more morose, "Fat chance. I
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talked with my dean and he wouldn't even let me
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