of the campus paper, the _Black and Green_. I managed to prevent its
publication...." He went on at some length about that. "If I might be
permitted access to the drawers of my own desk," he added with
elephantine sarcasm, "I could show you the editorial in question."

"You needn't bother; I have a carbon copy," Dacre told him. "We've all
read it. If you did, at the time you suppressed it, you should have
known what Doctor Chalmers said in class."

"I knew he'd talked a lot of poppycock about a man who was still
living having been shot to death," Whitburn retorted. "And if
something of the sort actually happened, what of it? Somebody's always
taking a shot at one or another of these foreign dictators, and they
can't miss all the time."

"You claim this was pure coincidence?" Fitch demanded. "A ten-point
coincidence: Event of assassination, year of the event, place,
circumstances, name of assassin, nationality of assassin, manner of
killing, exact type of weapon used, guards killed and wounded along
with Khalid, and fate of the assassin. If that's a simple and
plausible coincidence, so's dealing ten royal flushes in succession in
a poker game. Tom, you figured that out; what did you say the odds
against it were?"

"Was all that actually stated by Doctor Chalmers a month ago?" one of
the trustees asked, incredulously.

"It absolutely was. Look here, Mr. Dacre, gentlemen." Fitch came
forward, unzipping his briefcase and pulling out papers. "Here are the
signed statements of each of Doctor Chalmers' twenty-three Modern