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"You've struck it at last. What a good guesser you are!" said Joyce, witheringly. Then she relented. "Yes, she must have done it, Cynthia. She locked the door, and took the key away, or did something with it, though what on earth for, I can't imagine!" "But what makes you think she did it before she read the note?" demanded Cynthia. "There are just two reasons, Cynthia.
"Tell me, great sir," said the captain, "what do you think the final decision on this case should be?" He shoved the sheaf of papers across the desk to The Guesser. The Guesser looked at them unseeingly, his mind in a whirl. For five days now, the captain of the Trobwell had been handing him papers and asking him questions of that sort.
That girl is back here with a slick young fellow, and he's the pepper in a certain mess of Scotch broth that has been heated up all over again, if I'm any guesser. That girl has been living in Washington, Blanchard. It's a great school! I've been watching her shake hands. You saw her just now when she shook with our friend, the mayor.
"Guess, you Dear Little Boy! What would you like it to be?" Oh, if he only dared! He swallowed to get up courage. Then he ventured timidly. "A Rec-om-pense." It was out. "Oh, you Guesser you little Guesser! You've guessed the second time!" Was that what it was like?
They enjoyed your clownish performance very much. "Now, tell me exactly why you didn't show up for take-off on Viornis." The Guesser explained what had happened, his voice low. He told about having something thrown at him, about the beamgun being fired at him. He told about the girl, Deyla. He told everything in a monotonous undertone. The captain nodded when he was through. "That tallies.
He knew that someone not ten paces behind him had thrown something heavy, and he knew its exact trajectory to within a thousandth of a millimeter, and he knew exactly how to move his head to avoid the missile. He moved it, at the same time jerking his body to one side. It had only been a guess but what more did a Guesser need?
Timson, "I c'n tell ye; an', what's more, I c'n tell ye, young man, 't you hain't no idee of what you're undertakin', an' ef you don't wish you was back in New York 'fore you git through I ain't no guesser." "That is possible," said John readily, recalling his night and his breakfast that morning. "Yes, sir," said the other.
The red-haired girl I met at lunch one day at your father's house?" "That's it. You're a great guesser. I think you ought to stop the thing." "I intend to." "Fine!" "The marriage would be unsuitable in every way. Miss Bennett and my son do not vibrate on the same plane." "That's right. I've noticed it myself." "Their auras are not the same colour."
"You're either a liar or an idiot," said The Guesser harshly, "and I wish to eternity I knew which!" Kraybo, standing at attention, merely swallowed and said nothing. He had felt the back of The Guesser's hand too often before to expose himself intentionally to its swing again. The Guesser narrowed his eyes and tried to see what was going on in Kraybo's mind.
The Guesser decided he'd take the tubeway; at the Class Three bar, he might be able to talk someone into driving him to the spaceport later. But five minutes later, he was walking in the direction the bartender had told him to take for finding Mallard's on foot. To get to the tubeway was a four-block walk, and then there would be another long walk after he got off.
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