o mine DX, to bring back every sort of treasure from DX into our own dimension, I wouldn't dream of even suggesting-«
J could not listen to any more. He placed his Homburg squarely on his head and walked to the door. There he turned and pointed his rolled umbrella at his Lordship like a spear.
«The hell you wouldn't dream of suggesting. You will! And I can't stop you. But I can damn well warn Dick, tell him about that poor fellow up in Scotland and advise him with all my heart not to listen to you.»
After J left, Lord Leighton sat for a moment behind his desk. Presently he got up and paced the office, dragging his feet, rubbing the pain in his hunched back, his eyes half closed. His thin white hair floated like a halo over a pink scalp, giving him a saintly air that was misleading. But he was no sinner, either. He was a scientist, one of the best in the world, and right now he had a job to do.
He hated the necessity of sending Richard Blade to Dimension X again, but how did they expect him to work with imperfect instruments? Other men simply could not do the job, he thought. Why couldn't J understand his position? Why did J insist on making him out to be such an inhumane monster?
He took a list of names from a desk drawer and examined it, ticking off one name after the other. He shook his head. They were all good men-Robbins, Stanbury, Hunt, Swinton, Peterson-all adequately trained and conditioned, as much as any man could be for an adventure in Dimension X. But they all had one fault in common. They lacked perfection. Only Richard Blade was perfect for the job at hand. And they all lacked experience. Only Blade had that, had been through the computer, had survived in Dimension X and had man
J could not listen to any more. He placed his Homburg squarely on his head and walked to the door. There he turned and pointed his rolled umbrella at his Lordship like a spear.
«The hell you wouldn't dream of suggesting. You will! And I can't stop you. But I can damn well warn Dick, tell him about that poor fellow up in Scotland and advise him with all my heart not to listen to you.»
After J left, Lord Leighton sat for a moment behind his desk. Presently he got up and paced the office, dragging his feet, rubbing the pain in his hunched back, his eyes half closed. His thin white hair floated like a halo over a pink scalp, giving him a saintly air that was misleading. But he was no sinner, either. He was a scientist, one of the best in the world, and right now he had a job to do.
He hated the necessity of sending Richard Blade to Dimension X again, but how did they expect him to work with imperfect instruments? Other men simply could not do the job, he thought. Why couldn't J understand his position? Why did J insist on making him out to be such an inhumane monster?
He took a list of names from a desk drawer and examined it, ticking off one name after the other. He shook his head. They were all good men-Robbins, Stanbury, Hunt, Swinton, Peterson-all adequately trained and conditioned, as much as any man could be for an adventure in Dimension X. But they all had one fault in common. They lacked perfection. Only Richard Blade was perfect for the job at hand. And they all lacked experience. Only Blade had that, had been through the computer, had survived in Dimension X and had man
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