"Oh, yes I do! She saw you crossing the skyport with scanner beams trained on you; she saw you playing hide and seek with annihilation. I had to give her a sedative injection to quiet her."

Langford did not move. Something in Crendon's face told him he was not expected to say anything.

"So that makes me an accessory!" Crendon said, the smile still on his lips. "Her vision went blank when I decided she'd seen enough for her own peace of mind."

He nodded. "I didn't know whether you managed to escape or not; it kept me on the tetherhooks until you showed up in my office twenty minutes ago. I've always liked you, Langford; I flatter myself I know an honest man when I see one."

His hand went out and tightened on Langford's palm. "Come on, now! We've got to remove those bandages before she reads my thoughts, and knows how scared I get when I operate. Mutants know what humbugs we all are, Langford; they can see all the flaws in us, and if they can still trust us and believe in us despite that, they must be the forerunners of a new humanity in more ways than we dream!"

If Joan Langford had eavesdropped, using her strange sight, she gave no sign when her husband returned to her side. The conversation in the corridor had taken him from her for the barest instant, but that instant had seemed like an eternity to Langford and the inner vision of his wife.

For how could 'time' be measured in minutes or hours by a woman wearing a blindfold, shut away in the dark, and waiting a verdict that could cause the future to slough away into chill gulfs? And how could 'time' have any meaning when the stars faded out of the sky and a sunset gun boomed farewell to the joys of the physical world? And to one who loved and hoped—could 'time' be measured by the moving hands of a clock?

Quickly Langford's fingers interlocked with those of his wife. "This is it, darling!" he said.

Crendon's fingers fumbled a little as he turned Joan's head gently from the light and began to unwind the bandages.

"Don't open your eyes until I've removed the gauze pads," he warned. "And don't look directly at the light. At first you may not see at all; you must be prepared for that."

Crendon hated himself for his sternness, but experience had taught him that it was best to arouse a faint antagonism in his patients; it prevented them from regarding him 

 Prev. P 10/23 next