out of their own hearts, out of their own minds. We'll give them an artificial way of doing it. No. An artificial goodness? An artificial kindness? None of that. It would not be real. It wouldn't mean anything. It would be against Nature.' He said slowly: 'Against God.'
The last two words came out unexpectedly, clearly enunciated.
He looked round at his listeners. It was as though he pleaded with them for understanding, yet at the same time had no real hope of it.
'I had a right to destroy what I had created –'
'I doubt it very much,' said Mr Robinson, 'knowledge is knowledge. What you have given birth to — what you have made come to life, you should not destroy.'
'You have a right to your opinion — but the fact you will have to accept.'
'No,' Mr Robinson brought the word out with force.
Lisa Neumann turned on him angrily.
'What do you mean by 'No'?'
Her eyes were flashing. A handsome woman, Mr Robinson thought. A woman who had been in love with Robert Shoreham all her life probably. Had loved him, worked with him, and now lived beside him, ministering to him with her intellect, giving him devotion in its purest form without pity.
'There are things one gets to know in the course of one's lifetime,' said Mr Robinson. 'I don't suppose mine will be a long life. I carry too much weight to begin with.' He sighed as he looked down at his bulk. 'But I do know some thing — I'm right, you know, Shoreham. You'll have to admit it, too. You're an honest man. You wouldn't have destroyed your work. You couldn't have brought yourself to do that. You've got it somewhere still, locked away, hidden away, in this house, probably. I'd guess, and I'm only making a guess, that you've got it somewhere in a safe deposit or a bank. She knows you've got it there, too. You trust her. She's the only person in the world you do trust.'
Shoreham said, and this time his voice was almost distinct:
'Who are you? Who the devil are you?'
'I'm just a man who knows about money,' said Mr Robinson, 'and the things that branch off from money, you know. People and their idiosyncrasies and their practices in life. If you liked to, you could lay your hand on the work that you've put away. I'm not saying that you could do the same work now, but I think it's all there somewhere. You have told us your views, and I wouldn't say they were all wrong,' said Mr Robinson. 'Possibly you're right. Benefits to humanity are tricky things to deal with. Poor old Beveridge, freedom from want, freedom from fear, freedom from whatever it was, he thought he was making a heaven on earth by saying that and planning for it and getting it done. But it hasn't made heaven on earth and I don't suppose your Benvo or whatever you call it (sounds like a patent food) will bring heaven on earth either. Benevolence has its dangers just like everything else. What it will do is save a lot of suffering, pain, anarchy, violence, slavery to drugs. Yes, it'll save quite a lot of bad things from happening, and it might save something that was important. It might — just might — make a difference to people. Young people. This Benvoleo of yours — now I've made it sound like a patent cleaner — is going to make people benevolent and I'll admit perhaps that it's also going to make them condescending, smug and pleased with themselves, but there's just a chance, too, that if you change people's natures by force and they have to go on using that particular kind of nature until they die, one or two of them — not many — might discover that they had a natural vocation, in humility, not pride, for what they were being forced to do. Really change themselves, I mean, before they died. Not be able to get out of a new habit they'd learnt.'
Colonel Munro said, 'I don't understand what the hell you're all talking about.'
Miss Neumann said, 'He's talking nonsense. You have to take Professor Shoreham's answer. He will do what he likes with his own discoveries. You can't coerce him.'
'No,' said Lord Altamount. 'We're not going to coerce you or torture you, Robert, or force you to reveal your hiding-places. You'll do what you think right. That's agreed.'
'Edward?' said Robert Shoreham. His speech failed him slightly again, his hands moved in gesture, and Miss Neumann translated quickly.
'Edward? He says you are Edward Altamount?'
Shoreham spoke again and she took the words from him.
'He asks you, Lord Altamount, if you are definitively, with your whole heart and mind, asking him to put Project Benvo in your jurisdiction. He says –' she paused, waited listening — 'he says you are the only man in public life he ever trusted. If it is your wish –'
James Kleek was suddenly on his feet. Anxious, ready to move like lightning, he stood by Lord Altamount's side.
'Let me help you up, sir. You're ill. You're not well. Please stand back a little. Miss Neumann. I — I must see to him. I — I have his remedies here. I know what to do –'
His hand went into his pocket and came out again with a hypodermic syringe.
'Unless he gets this at once it'll be too late –' He had caught up Lord Altamount's arm, rolling up his sleeve, pinching the flesh between his fingers, he held the hypolennic ready.
But someone else moved. Horsham was across the room, pushing Colonel Munro aside; his hand closed over James Kleek's as he wrenched the hypodermic away. Kleek struggled but Horsham was too strong for him. And Munro was now here, too.
'So it's been you, James Kleek,' he said. 'You who've been the traitor, a faithful disciple who wasn't a faithful disciple.'
Miss Neumann had gone to me door — had flung it open and was calling, 'Nurse! Come quickly. Come.'
The nurse appeared. She gave one quick glance to Professor Shoreham, but he waved her away and pointed across he room to where Horsham and Munro still held a struggling Kleek. Her hand went into the pocket of her uniform.
Shoreham stammered out, 'It's Altamount. A heart attack.'
'Heart attack, my foot,' roared Munro. 'It's attempted murder.' He stopped.
'Hold the chap,' he said to Horsham, and leapt across the room.
'Mrs Cortman? Since when have you entered the nursing profession? We'd rather lost sight of you since you gave us the slip in Baltimore .'
Milly Jean was still wrestling with her pocket. Now her hand came out with the small automatic in it. She glanced towards Shoreham but Munro blocked her, and Lisa Neumann was standing in front of Shoreham's chair.
James Kleek yelled, 'Get Altamount, Juanita — quick — get Altamount.'
Her arm flashed up and she fired, James Kleek said, 'Damned good shot!'
Lord Altamount had had a classical education. He murmured faintly, looking at James Kleek,
'Jamie? Et tu Brute?' and collapsed against the back of his chair.
Dr McCulloch looked round him, a little uncertain of what he was going to do or say next. The evening had been a somewhat unusual experience for him.
Lisa Neumann came to him and set a glass by his side.
'A hot toddy,' she said.
'I always knew you were a woman in a thousand, Lisa.'
He sipped appreciatively.
'I must say I'd like to know what all this has been about — but I gather it's the sort of thing that's so hush- hush that nobody's going to tell me anything.'
'The Professor — he's all right, isn't he?'
'The Professor?' He looked at her anxious face, kindly. 'He's fine. If you ask me, it's done him a world of good.'
'I thought perhaps the shock — '
'I'm quite all right,' said Shoreham. 'Shock treatment is what I needed. I feel — how shall I put it — alive again.' He looked surprised.
McCulloch said to Lisa, 'Notice how much stronger his voice is? It's apathy really that's the enemy in these cases — what he wants is to work again — the stimulation of some brain work. Music is all very well — it's kept him soothed and able to enjoy life in a mild way. But he's really a man of great intellectual power — and he misses the
