“But you haven’t been able to disprove her claim by any other means?”

“Well, no.”

“You don’t sound very certain. I thought you said she was sincere and genuine?”

“Yes, I did,” Jean stammered, aware that she was not being entirely sincere and genuine herself. “I’ve allowed myself to get distracted by . . . domestic matters, and I stopped digging and questioning. I’ve been a lousy journalist.”

Roy raised a hand—a faint gesture of demurral, perhaps—but did not contradict her.

“It would have been interesting to see her reaction to the failure of the skin graft.”

“I wasn’t there unfortunately. Dr. Lloyd-Jones said she pleaded with him to rerun the experiment. Which he wasn’t prepared to do. He didn’t seem to set as much store by it as the other two.”

“Even so, it’s still an interesting story.” He glanced at his watch; the meeting was due to start in five minutes. “So, we haven’t got solid scientific proof. But, equally, we haven’t been able to crack her testimony. We could still run it as an unsolved mystery—“The Strange Case of Gretchen What’s-her-name”—without making any claims that are untrue. Here are the facts—let the public decide.”

Jean quailed. Let the public decide? One might as well throw her to the wolves.

“The marriage has broken down. I’m concerned about the effect of publicity on the child—if one of the nationals gets hold of it.”

“Their marital difficulties are hardly our problem,” said Roy. “She approached us, not the other way round. And divorce is not the scandal it once was. We’ve invested a lot of time in this and it’s an unusual story of legitimate interest to our readers. And if one of the nationals does pick it up, so much the better. That’s always been the hope, hasn’t it?”

“But without the scientific proof . . . ?”

“Wasn’t one of the doctors still open-minded?”

“Dr. Lloyd-Jones. He said . . .” Jean opened her notebook and flipped through the pages of Dutton’s Double Speed Longhand to the phrase underlined three times. “It has not been possible to disprove the claim.”

“Splendid. We can use that. Maybe publication will bring some other experts, or even witnesses, out of the woodwork.”

“I still feel uncomfortable.”

Roy shook his head. “You’ll get over it. We can run it the first week of December. Nice feature for Advent. Get young Tony to do some photos of mother and child.”

“All right,” said Jean, defeated. “I’ll get in touch with Gretchen. I’ve been putting off talking to her because I thought we might be spiking the story altogether.”

She reddened as she remembered the other reason why she had been avoiding a meeting.

“Good man. Anything else you need to discuss?”

“No, that was all. Thank you.”

She stood up to leave, feeling outmaneuvered, the result of her own dishonesty and evasion.

“I meant to say you’re looking well lately. More . . . sprightly.”

“Sprightly?” Jean’s face fell.

“No, that’s not the word. Relaxed. Healthy. Blooming.”