Just before he left my father called me to the library. “Henry can drive him back,” he said. “Why don’t you go with him for the ride?”

I was surprised at the suggestion and wondered if he thought there was anything emotional between Brad and me—that would have been too ridiculous.

“He’d probably rather take the tube,” I said.

“No, let Henry bring the car round.”

“He’d hate to think he’d been keeping Henry up. He’s fussy about those things.”

“Then get a taxi and you can come back in it.”

“He doesn’t have taxis—he can’t afford them and he wouldn’t like me to pay.”

My father’s irritation showed through again. “Well, for once he can— because I want you to tell him something. Tell him I wasn’t joking, even if Julian was, about the idea of him going abroad. I’ve been thinking for some time it might not be a bad thing. Tell him that.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“I did, but I don’t think he heard me. I’m sorry Julian talked of it so flippantly—it’s really what Brad ought to do. He’s probably got all he can out of this London job by now…. So tell him, will you? There’s a bunch of physicists in Vienna, if he could get fixed up with the right connections. I might be able to help him in that.”

“You might?”

“Yes. I have—er—contacts there.”

“In Vienna?”

“Yes.”

“But what about the Cavendish at Cambridge? Isn’t that as good?”

“Cambridge isn’t the only place where they’re doing interesting things in his line. The Continent would give him a different angle….”

“You mean the glamour?”

“No, no … or anyhow, that’s not the word for it. I wish Julian hadn’t butted in with his witticisms…. Well, you talk things over with Brad. Ask him how he’d like to spend some time working with Hugo Framm.”

“Hugo Framm?”

“He’ll know who Framm is. Ask him. Ask him.”

The telephone then rang; I took it, as I often did; it was New York. Those business calls were generally very dull as well as private, so I handed him the receiver and edged away towards the hall doorway across the room.

And then I saw Brad. His back was towards me, and in front of him, almost hidden, was my mother. The lights in the hall were subdued, and all I could see of her distinctly was the knuckle of her right hand as she held his sleeve. She had been talking to him earnestly and I caught what was evidently a final remark: “… and you mustn’t take any notice, Brad…. I’d hate you to be influenced at all….” Only that, whispered very eagerly.

He said nothing in reply, then suddenly, glancing round his shoulder with a little side movement of her head, she saw me, I think, though she pretended not to. I stepped back into the room. Presently my father finished his call.

“Well, as I was saying, Jane, see how he feels about it.”

I answered: “Yes, but not tonight. I’ll talk to him at the College tomorrow. I know he’d rather go home by tube.”

* * * * *

I could have met him at lunch the next day and been sure of not interrupting his work, but I went straight to the lab about eleven-thirty, committing the unforgivable sin, if it were one, with a certain gusto. After all, he couldn’t already be working for another examination—or could he? Anyhow, I caught him (so far as I could judge) doing that rare thing, nothing. But he looked preoccupied and not really surprised enough; he asked me to sit down, but I said it wouldn’t take me long to deliver a message. Then I told him what my father had said about Vienna and Hugo Framm. His whole manner changed.