Astounding Science Fiction (British Edition) — page 63: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BELIEF 61 letter upside down. This was unex- pected. Of the letters he had sent out the day of the Miss Harroway incident, only four had so far been answered. Three of them had consisted of cold one-paragraph replies that read, more or less: “This is to acknowledge receipt of your letter of the 22nd. I do not believe I can help you in the matter you discuss.” A fourth, from Ballantine of Northwestern Tech, had bumblingly suggested an institute for psychic research. Roger couldn’t tell whether he was trying to be help- ful or insulting. Deering of Princeton made five. He had had high hopes of Deering. Dr. Morton cleared his throat loudly and adjusted a pair of glasses. “J want to read you what he says. Sit down, Toomey, sit down. He says: “Dear Phil—” Dr. Morton looked up briefly with a slightly fatuous smile. “Linus and I met at Federation meetings last year. We had a few drinks together. Very nice fellow.” He adjusted his glasses again and returned to the letter: “‘ “Dear Phil: Is there a Dr. Roger Toomey in your department? I received a very queer letter from him the other day. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. At first, I thought I’d just let it go as another crank letter. Then I thought that since the letter carried your department heading, you ought to know of it. It’s just possible some- one may be using your staff as part of a confidence game. I’m enclosing Dr. Toomey’s letter for your inspec-: tion. I hope to be visiting your part — of the country—’ “Well the rest of it is personal.” Dr. Morton folded the letter, took off his glasses, put them in a leather container and put that in his breast pocket. He twined his fingers together and leaned forward. “Now,” he said, “I don’t have to read you your own letter. Was it a joke? A hoax?” “Dr. Morton,” said Roger, heavily, “I was serious. I don’t see anything wrong with my letter. I sent it to quite a few physicists. It speaks for itself. I’ve made observations on a case of . . . of levitation and I wanted information about possible theoretical explanations for such a phenomenon.” “Levitation! Really!’ “It’s a legitimate case, Dr. Mor- ton.” : *““You’ve observed it yourself?’ “Of course.” ‘““No * hidden wires? No mirrors? Look here, Toomey, you’re no expert on these frauds.” “This was a thoroughly scientific series of observations. There is no possibility of fraud.” “You might have consulted me, Toomey, before sending out these letters.” “Perhaps I should have, Dr. Mor- ton, but, frankly, I thought you might be—unsympathetic.”’ “Well, thank you. I should hope so. And on department stationery. I’m really surprised, Toomey. Look here, Toomey, your life is your own. If you wish to believe in levitation, go ahead, but strictly on your own time. For the sake of the department and the College, it should be obvious that this sort of thing should not be injected into your scholastic affairs. “In point of fact, you’ve lost some weight recently, haven’t you, Toomey? Yes, you don’t look well at all. I’d see a doctor, if I were you. A nerve specialist, perhaps.” Roger said, bitterly, “‘A psychiatrist might be better, you think?” “Well, that’s entirely your business. In any case, a little rest—”’ The telephone had rung and the secretary had taken the call. She EComichooksnco im