for
some unknown reason he took a liking to me. My father had insisted that
I follow in his footsteps as an electrical engineer; as he was paying my
bills, I had to make a show at studying engineering while I
clandestinely pursued my hobby, literature. Dr. Livermore's courses were
the easiest in the school and they counted as science, so I regularly
registered for them, cut them, and attended a class in literature as an
auditor. The Doctor used to meet me on the campus and laughingly scold
me for my absence, but he was really in sympathy with my ambition and he
regularly gave me a passing mark and my units of credit without regard
to my attendance, or, rather, lack of it.

When I graduated from Calvada I was theoretically an electrical
engineer. Practically I had a pretty good knowledge of contemporary
literature and knew almost nothing about my so-called profession. I
stalled around Dad's office for a few months until I landed a job as a
cub reporter on the San Francisco _Graphic_ and then I quit him cold.
When the storm blew over, Dad admitted that you couldn't make a silk
purse out of a sow's ear and agreed with a grunt to my new line of work.
He said that I would probably be a better reporter than an engineer
because I couldn't by any possibility be a worse one, and let it go at
that. However, all this has nothing to do with the story. It just
explains how I came to be acquainted with Dr. Livermore, in the first
place, and why he sent for me on September twenty-second, in the second
place.

* * * * *

The morning of the twenty-second the City Editor called me in and asked
me if I knew "Old Liverpills."

"He says that he has a good story ready to break but he won't talk to
anyone but you," went on Barnes. "I offered to send out a good man, for
when Old Liverpills starts a story it ought to be good, but all I got
was a high powered bawling out. He said that he would talk to you or no
one and would just as soon talk to no one as to me any longer. Then he
hung up. You'd better take a run out to Calvada and see what he has to
say. I can have a good man rewrite your drivel when you get back."

I was more or less used to that sort of talk from Barnes so I paid no
attention to it. I drove my flivver down to Calvada and asked for the
Doctor.

"Dr. Livermore?" said the bursar. "Why, he hasn't been around here for
the last ten months. This is his sabbatical year and he is spending it
on