As Helen was shown into Saul Hartz's library a clock on the chimneypiece struck eleven.
"May I get you anything, miss?" said the butler, to whom she was well known.
"Thank you, Jennings—no." She shivered slightly; it was a chill September night.
Jennings gave the fire a poke and retired.
Helen took a book from a table, turned up a reading lamp and sat down. At first so strong was the current of her thought that she did not look at the book. Her whole mind was fixed upon the forty precious minutes that could be allowed for Mr. Hartz's return. If he tarried beyond that time it might be too late for him to be of use—at any rate, so far as the U. P. was concerned. In regard to the Planet he might, perhaps, be allowed another two hours.
Severe good sense forbade giving her thoughts much rein. Worry was not going to help. Besides, she had one of those disciplined minds, which, in spite of the moment's pressure, are not allowed to riot. She looked at the book in her hand. Its title was Essays in Contribution to a Permanent Peace, its author, John Endor.
