what's going on in thecontemporary world, and I didn't understand, really, what all thisexcitement was about. But he explained the whole thing to me, and didit in terms that I could grasp, drawing some excellent parallels withthe Byzantine Empire and the Crusades. All about the revolt atDamascus, and the sack of Beirut, and the war between Jordan and SaudiArabia, and how the Turkish army intervened, and the invasion ofPakistan...."
"When did all this happen?" one of the trustees demanded.
Pottgeiter started to explain; Chalmers realized, sickly, how much ofhis future history he had poured into the trusting ear of the oldmedievalist, the day before.
"Good Lord, man; don't you read the papers at all?" another of thetrustees asked.
"No! And I don't read inside-dope magazines, or science fiction. Iread carefully substantiated facts. And I know when I'm talking to asane and reasonable man. It isn't a common experience, around here."
Dacre passed a hand over his face. "Doctor Whitburn," he said, "I mustadmit that I came to this meeting strongly prejudiced against you, andI'll further admit that your own behavior here has done very little todispel that prejudice. But I'm beginning to get some idea of what youhave to contend with, here at Blanley, and I find that I must make alot of allowances. I had no idea.... Simply no idea at all."
"Look, you're getting a completely distorted picture of this, Mr.Dacre," Fitch broke in. "It's precisely as I believed; Doctor Chalmersis an unusually gifted precognitive percipient. You've seen,gentlemen, how his complicated chain of precognitions about the deathof Khalid has been proven veridical; I'd stake my life that every oneof these precognitions will be similarly verified. And I'll stake myprofessional reputation that the man is perfectly sane. Of course,abnormal psychology and psychopathology aren't my subjects, but...."
"They're not my subjects, either," Whitburn retorted, "but I know alunatic by his ravings."
"Doctor Fitch is taking an entirely proper attitude," Pottgeiter said,"in pointing out that abnormal psychology is a specialized branch,outside his own field. I wouldn't dream, myself, of trying to offer adecisive opinion on some point of Roman, or Babylonian, history. Well,if the question of Doctor Chalmers' sanity is at issue here, let'sconsult somebody who specializes in insanity. I don't believe thatanybody here is qualified even to express an opinion on that subject,Doctor Whitburn least of all."
Whitburn turned on him angrily. "Oh, shut up, you doddering old fool!"he shouted. "Look; there's another of them!" he told the trustees."Another deadhead on the faculty that this Tenure Law keeps me fromgetting rid of. He's as bad as Chalmers, himself. You just heard thatstring of nonsense he was spouting. Why, his courses have been notedamong the students for years as snap courses in which nobody ever hasto do any work...."
Chalmers was on his feet again, thoroughly angry. Abuse of himself hecould take; talking that way about gentle, learned, old Pottgeiterwas something else.
"I think Doctor Pottgeiter's said the most reasonable thing I've heardsince I came in here," he declared. "If my sanity is to be questioned,I insist that it be questioned by somebody qualified to do so."
Had the sane restrained the insane, or was it the otherway around?]
Weill set his recorder on the floor and jumped up beside him, tryingto haul him back into his seat.
"For God's sake, man! Sit down and shut up!" he hissed.
Chalmers shook off his hand. "No, I won't shut up! This is the onlyway to settle this, once and for all. And when my sanity's beenvindicated, I'm going to sue this fellow...."
Whitburn started to make some retort, then stopped short. After amoment, he smiled nastily.
"Do I understand, Doctor Chalmers, that you would be willing to submitto psychiatric examination?" he asked.
"Don't agree; you're putting your foot in a trap!" Weill told himurgently.
"Of course, I agree, as long as the examination is conducted by aproperly qualified psychiatrist."
"How about Doctor Hauserman at Northern State Mental Hospital?"Whitburn asked quickly. "Would you agree to an examination by him?"
"Excellent!" Fitch exclaimed. "One of the best men in the field. I'daccept his opinion unreservedly."
Weill started to object again; Chalmers cut him off. "Doctor Hausermanwill be quite satisfactory to me. The only question is, would he beavailable?"
"I think he would," Dacre said, glancing at his watch. "I wonder if hecould be reached now." He got to his feet. "Telephone in your outeroffice, Doctor Whitburn? Fine. If you gentlemen will excuse me...."
It was a good fifteen minutes before he returned, smiling.
"Well, gentlemen, it's all arranged," he said. "Doctor Hauserman isquite willing to examine Doctor Chalmers--with the latter's consent,of course."
"He'll have it. In writing, if he wishes."
"Yes, I assured him on that point. He'll be here about noontomorrow--it's a hundred and fifty miles from the hospital, but thedoctor flies his own plane--and the examination can start at two inthe afternoon. He seems familiar with the facilities of thepsychology department, here; I assured him that they were at hisdisposal. Will that be satisfactory to you, Doctor Chalmers?"
"I have a class at that time, but one of the instructors can take itover--if holding classes will be possible around here tomorrow," hesaid. "Now, if you gentlemen will pardon me, I think I'll go home andget some sleep."
* * * * *
Weill came up to the apartment with him. He mixed a couple of drinksand they went into the living room with them.
"Just in case you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," Weillsaid, "this Hauserman isn't any ordinary couch-pilot; he's the statepsychiatrist. If he gets the idea you aren't sane, he can commit youto a hospital, and I'll bet that's exactly what Whitburn had in mindwhen he suggested him. And I don't trust this man Dacre. I thought hewas on our side, at the start, but that was before your friends gotinto the act." He frowned into his drink. "And I don't like the waythat Intelligence major was acting, toward the last. If he thinks youknow something you are not supposed to, a mental hospital may be hisidea of a good place to put you away."
"You don't think this man Hauserman would allow himself to beinfluenced ...? No. You just don't think I'm sane. Do you?"
"I know what Hauserman'll think. He'll think this future historybusiness is a classical case of systematized schizoid delusion. I wishI'd never gotten into this case. I wish I'd never even heard of you!And another thing; in case you get past Hauserman all right, you canforget about that damage-suit bluff of mine. You would not stand achance with it in court."
"In spite of what happened to Khalid?"
"After tomorrow, I won't stay in the same room with anybody who evenmentions that name to me. Well, win or lose, it'll be over tomorrowand then I can leave here."
"Did you tell me you were going to Reno?" Chalmers asked. "Don't doit. You remember Whitburn mentioning how I spoke about an explosionthere? It happened just a couple of days after the murder of Khalid.There was--will be--a trainload of high explosives in the railroadyard; it'll be the biggest non-nuclear explosion since the _MontBlanc_ blew up in Halifax harbor in World War One...."
Weill threw his drink into the fire; he must have avoided throwing theglass in with it by a last-second exercise of self-control.
"Well," he said, after a brief struggle to master himself. "One thingabout the legal profession; you do hear the damnedest things!... Goodnight, Professor. And try--please try, for the sake of your poorharried lawyer--to keep your mouth shut about things like that, atleast till after you get through with Hauserman. And when you'retalking to him, don't, don't, for heaven's sake, _don't_, volunteeranything!"
* * * * *
The room was a pleasant, warmly-colored, place. There was a desk, muchlike the ones in the classrooms, and six or seven wicker armchairs. Alot of apparatus had been pushed back along the walls; the dust-coverswere gay cretonne. There was a couch, with more apparatus, similarlycovered, beside it.
Hauserman was seated at the desk when Chalmersentered.
He rose, and they shook hands. A man of about his own age,smooth-faced, partially bald. Chalmers tried to guess something of theman's nature from his face, but could read nothing. A face welltrained to keep its owner's secrets.
"Something to smoke, Professor," he began, offering his cigarettecase.
"My pipe, if you don't mind." He got it
The Edge of the Knife Page 9