ith some of the Modern
History IV boys, including Dacre and Kendrick. That was one of the
things they'd been doing with that jeep-mounted sound-camera, this
afternoon, then. The boys, some brashly, some embarrassedly, were
substantiating the fact that he had, a month ago, described
yesterday's event in detail. There was an interview with Leonard
Fitch; the psychology professor was trying to explain the phenomenon
of precognition in layman's terms, and making heavy going of it. And
there was the mobbing of Whitburn in front of Administration Center.
The college president was shouting denials of every question asked
him, and as he turned and fled, the guffaws of the reporters were
plainly audible.

An argument broke out along the counter.

"I don't believe it! How could anybody know all that about something
before it happened?"

"Well, you heard that-there professor, what was his name. An' you
heard all them boys...."

"Ah, college-boys; they'll do anything for a joke!"

"After refusing to be interviewed for telecast, the president of
Blanley College finally consented to hold a press conference in his
office, from which telecast cameras were barred. He denied the whole
story categorically and stated that the boys in Professor Chalmers'
class had concocted the whole thing as a hoax...."

"There! See what I told you!"

"... stating that Professor Chalmers is mentally unsound, and that
he has been trying for years to oust him from his position on the
Blanley faculty but has been unable to do so because of the provisions
of the Faculty Tenure Act of 1963. Most of his remarks were in the
nature of a polemic against this law, generally regarded as the
college professors' bill of rights. It is to be stated here that other
members of the Blanley faculty have unconditionally confirmed the fact
that Doctor Chalmers did make the statements attributed to him a month
ago, long before the death of Khalid ib'n Hussein...."

"Yah! How about _that_, now? How'ya gonna get around _that_?"

Beckoning the waitress, he paid his check and hurried out. Before he
reached the door, he heard a voice, almost stuttering with excitement:

"Hey! Look! That's _him_!"

He began to run. He was two blocks from the cafe before he slowed to a
walk again.

That night, he needed three shots of whiskey before he could get to
sleep.

* * * * *

A delegation from the American Institute of Psionics and
Parapsychol