"A reporter, no comment. Anybody else, none of his damn business. And
above all, don't let anybody finagle you into making any claims about
knowing the future. I thought we had this under control; now that
it's out in the open, what that fool Whitburn'll do is anybody's
guess."

Leonard Fitch met him as he entered the Faculty Club, sizzling with
excitement.

"Ed, this has done it!" he began, jubilantly. "This is one nobody can
laugh off. It's direct proof of precognition, and because of the
prominence of the event, everybody will hear about it. And it simply
can't be dismissed as coincidence...."

"Whitburn's trying to do that."

"Whitburn's a fool if he is," another man said calmly. Turning, he saw
that the speaker was Tom Smith, one of the math professors. "I figured
the odds against that being chance. There are a lot of variables that
might affect it one way or another, but ten to the fifteenth power is
what I get for a sort of median figure."

"Did you give that story to the _Valley Times?_" he asked Fitch,
suspicion rising and dragging anger up after it.

"Of course, I did," Fitch said. "I'll admit, I had to go behind your
back and have some of my postgrads get statements from the boys in
your history class, but you wouldn't talk about it yourself...."