He began to ask another question, but changed his mind. If they wanted to play at being coy or whatever they were doing, the hell with them. He was going home. To the hotel, that is. Gideon shoved his chair back from the table and stood up, ready to leave. His high spirits were suddenly gone, the good-old-boy stories did not entertain him, and his half-hatched plans for Janet were somehow no longer of interest. Jet lag had finally hit him; if he didn’t get to his bed at the Hotel Ballman very shortly, he’d curl up and go to sleep on the floor of the Weinstube.

He turned from the table without saying good night, catching what he thought was a brief, silent glance between the three of them, and made his way towards the door. Others were milling about, getting ready to leave, and he caught sight of Dr. Rufus self-consciously circulating about, bearlike and jolly, thumping shoulders and shaking hands. When he saw Gideon, he smiled briefly-a twitch of the lips was more like it-and rather suddenly engaged himself in deep conversation with an older man and woman, both senior faculty members.

Gideon waited quietly. There were things that were bothering him, and he was going to buttonhole Dr. Rufus whether the chancellor liked it or not. When the older couple had made their good-byes, Dr. Rufus turned innocently in the direction opposite to Gideon and moved quickly toward another clump of people. Gideon called to him.

The chancellor turned, registering surprise. "Ah, the estimable Professor Oliver! I hope you had a pleasant evening."

"Yes, I did, thanks, but there are a few things I’d like to ask you."

"You bet; certainly. Ask away." He beamed at Gideon, blue eyes twinkling, rosy cheeks shining.

"Well, that schedule of mine. Is that right? I was expecting to go to Munich, Kaiserslautern-"