“Now wait,” snarled Lanning, “I am not quite the fool both of you make me out to be. I am not interested in the problem of Mr. Byerley’s humanity or nonhumanity. I am interested in getting the Corporation out of a hole. A public meal will end the matter and keep it ended no matter what Quinn does. We can leave the finer details to lawyers and robopsychologists.”

“But, Dr. Lanning,” said Byerley, “you forget the politics of the situation. I am as anxious to be elected as Quinn is to stop me. By the way, did you notice that you used his name? It’s a cheap shyster trick of mine; I knew you would, before you were through.”

Lanning flushed, “What has the election to do with it?”

“Publicity works both ways, sir. If Quinn wants to call me a robot, and has the nerve to do so, I have the nerve to play the game his way.”

“You mean you—” Lanning was quite frankly appalled.

“Exactly. I mean that I’m going to let him go ahead, choose his rope, test its strength, cut off the right length, tie the noose, insert his head and grin. I can do what little else is required.”

“You are mighty confident.”

Susan Calvin rose to her feet, “Come, Alfred, we won’t change his mind for him.”

“You see.” Byerley smiled gently. “You’re a human psychologist, too.”

But perhaps not all the confidence that Dr. Lanning had remarked upon was present that evening when Byerley’s car parked on the automatic treads leading to the sunken garage, and Byerley himself crossed the path to the front door of his house.

The figure in the wheel chair looked up as he entered and smiled. Byerley’s face lit with affection. He crossed over to it.

The cripple’s voice was a hoarse, grating whisper that came out of a mouth forever twisted to one side, leering out of a face that was half scar tissue, “You’re late, Steve.”

“I know, John, I know. But I’ve been up against a peculiar and interesting trouble today.”

“So?” Neither the torn face nor the destroyed voice could carry expression but there was anxiety in the clear eyes. “Nothing you can’t handle?”

“I’m not exactly certain. I may need your help. You’re the brilliant one in the family. Do you want me to take you out into the garden? It’s a beautiful evening.”

Two strong arms lifted John from the wheel chair. Gently, almost caressingly, Byerley’s arms went around the shoulders and under the swathed legs of the cripple. Carefully, and slowly, he walked through the rooms, down the gentle ramp that had been built with a wheel chair in mind, and out the back door into the walled and wired garden behind the house.

“Why don’t you let me use the wheel chair, Steve? This is silly.”

“Because I’d rather carry you. Do you object? You know that you’re as glad to get out of that motorized buggy for a while as I am to see you out. How do you feel today?” He deposited John with infinite care upon the cool grass.