ship hadn't been wrecked! I
could trace out that weird, unreal romance hidden somewhere in the
worlds of "if". I could, perhaps, wring a somber, vicarious joy from the
things that might have been. I could see Joanna once more!

It was late afternoon when I rushed over to van Manderpootz's quarters.
He wasn't there; I encountered him finally in the hall of the Physics
Building.

"Dick!" he exclaimed. "Are you sick?"

"Sick? No. Not physically. Professor. I've got to use your
subjunctivisor again. I've _got_ to!"

"Eh? Oh--that toy. You're too late, Dick. I've dismantled it. I have a
better use for the space."

I gave a miserable groan and was tempted to damn the autobiography of
the great van Manderpootz. A gleam of sympathy showed in his eyes, and
he took my arm, dragging me into the little office adjoining his
laboratory.

"Tell me," he commanded.

I did. I guess I made the tragedy plain enough, for his heavy brows knit
in a frown of pity. "Not even van Manderpootz can bring back the dead,"
he murmured. "I'm sorry, Dick. Take your mind from the affair. Even were
my subjunctivisor available, I wouldn't permit you to use it. That would
be but to turn the knife in the wound." He paused. "Find something else
to occupy your mind. Do as van Manderpootz does. Find forgetfulness in
work."

"Yes," I responded dully. "But who'd want to read my autobiography?
That's all right for you."

"Autobiography? Oh! I remember. No, I have abandoned that. History
itself will record the life and works of van Manderpootz. Now I am
engaged in a far grander project."

"Indeed?" I was utterly, gloomily disinterested.

"Yes. Gogli has been here, Gogli the sculptor. He is to make a bust of
me. What better legacy can I leave to the world than a bust of van
Manderpootz, sculptured from life? Perhaps I shall present it to the
city, perhaps to the university. I would have given it to the Royal
Society if they had been a little more receptive, if they--if--_if_!"
The last in a shout.

"Huh?"

"_If!_" cried van Manderpootz. "What you saw in the subjunctivisor was
what would have happened _if_ you had caught the ship!"

"I know that."

"But something quite different might really have happened! Don't you
see? She--she-- Where are those old newspapers?"

He was pawing through a pile of them. He flourished one finally. "Here!
Here are the survivors!"

Like letters of flame, Joanna Caldwell's name leaped out at me. There
was even a l