Ward climbed up the slope to where he could see Kandinski. Twice he lost his grip and slithered downwards helplessly, tearing his hands on the gritty surface. Kandinski was lying flat on his chest, his head just above the ridge. Covered by dust, he was barely distinguishable from the slope itself.
‘Are you all right?’ Ward whispered. He pulled off his bow tie and ripped open his collar. When he had controlled his breathing he crawled up beside Kandinski.
‘Where?’ he asked.
Kandinski pointed down into the hollow.
Ward raised his head, levering himself up on his elbows. For a few seconds he peered out into the darkness, and then drew his head back.
‘You see it?’ Kandinski whispered. His voice was short and laboured. When Ward hesitated before replying he suddenly seized Ward’s wrist in a vice-like grip. In the faint light reflected by the white dust on the ridge Ward could see plainly his bright inflamed eyes.
‘Ward! Can you see it?’
The powerful fingers remained clamped to his wrist as he lay beside Kandinski and gazed down into the darkness.
Below the compartment window one of Ward’s fellow passengers was being seen off by a group of friends, and the young women in bright hats and bandanas and the men in slacks and beach sandals made him feel that he was leaving a seaside resort at the end of a holiday. From the window he could see the observatory domes of Mount Vernon rising out of the trees, and he identified the white brickwork of the Hoyle Library a thousand feet below the summit. Edna Cameron had brought him to the station, but he had asked her not to come onto the platform, and she had said goodbye and driven off. Cameron himself he had seen only once, when he had collected his books from the Institute.
Trying to forget it all, Ward noted thankfully that the train would leave within five minutes. He took his bankbook out of his wallet and counted the last week’s withdrawals. He winced at the largest item, 600 dollars which he had transferred to Kandinski’s account to pay for the cablegrams.
Deciding to buy something to read, he left the car and walked back to the news-stand. Several of the magazines contained what could only be described as discouraging articles about himself, and he chose two or three newspapers.
Just then someone put a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Kandinski.
‘Are you leaving?’ Kandinski asked quietly. He had trimmed his beard so that only a pale vestige of the original bloom remained, revealing his high bony cheekbones. His face seemed almost fifteen years younger, thinner and more drawn, but at the same time composed, like that of a man recovering slowly from the attack of some intermittent fever.
‘I’m sorry, Charles,’ Ward said as they walked back to the car. ‘I should have said goodbye to you but I thought I’d better not.’
Kandinski’s expression was subdued but puzzled. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I don’t understand.’
Ward shrugged. ‘I’m afraid everything here has more or less come to an end for me, Charles. I’m going back to Princeton until the spring. Freshman physics.’ He smiled ruefully at himself. ‘Boyle’s Law, Young’s Modulus, getting right back to fundamentals. Not a bad idea, perhaps.’
‘But why are you leaving?’ Kandinski pressed.
‘Well, Cameron thought it might be tactful of me to leave. After our statement to the Secretary-General was published in The New York Times I became very much persona non grata at the Hubble. The trustees were on to Professor Renthall again this morning.’
Kandinski smiled and seemed relieved. ‘What does the Hubble matter?’ he scoffed. ‘We have more important work to do. You know, Ward, when Mrs Cameron told me just now that you were leaving I couldn’t believe it.’
‘I’m sorry, Charles, but it’s true.’
‘Ward,’ Kandinski insisted. ‘You can’t leave. The Primes will be returning soon. We must prepare for them.’
‘I know, Charles, and I wish I could stay.’ They reached the car and Ward put his hand out. ‘Thanks for coming to see me off.’
Kandinski held his hand tightly. ‘Andrew, tell me the truth. Are you afraid of what people will think of you? Is that why you want to leave? Haven’t you enough courage and faith in yourself?’
‘Perhaps that’s it,’ Ward conceded, wishing the train would start. He reached for the rail and began to climb into the car but Kandinski held him.
‘Ward, you can’t drop your responsibilities like this!’
‘Please, Charles,’ Ward said, feeling his temper rising. He pulled his hand away but Kandinski seized him by the shoulder and almost dragged him off the car.
Ward wrenched himself away. ‘Leave me alone!’ he snapped fiercely. ‘I saw your space-ship, didn’t I?’
Kandinski watched him go, a hand picking at his vanished beard, completely perplexed.
Whistles sounded, and the train began to edge forward.
‘Goodbye, Charles,’ Ward called down. ‘Let me know if you see anything else.’
He went into the car and took his seat. Only when the train was twenty miles from Mount Vernon did he look out of the window.
