He tried not to look at Walker's face, but he could not prevent his eyes from rising now and then to see the round, staring mask that faced him with a cold, pale malevolence. Walker nodded curtly.
"You are familiar with Lord Byron's more important poems, are you not?"
"Of course," Walker said.
"Then would you care to comment upon 'English Bards and Scottish Reviewers?'"
Walker looked at him suspiciously for a moment. Then he smiled triumphantly. "Ah, sir," he said and nodded his head vigorously. "I see. Now I see. You're trying to trick me. Of course. 'English Bards and Scottish Reviewers' is not by Byron at all. It is John Keats's famous reply to the journalists who attempted to smirch his reputation as a poet, after the publication of his first poems. Very good, sir. Very—"
"All right, Mr. Walker," Stoner said wearily. "I have no more questions."
For several moments silence lay upon the group. Then Rutherford cleared his throat, shuffled the papers on the table before him, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Walker. If you will step outside for a few moments and wait, the committee will discuss your examination and let you know its decision."
In the few moments that it took Rutherford to say what he had to say, Walker recomposed himself. He rose and rested his crippled hand upon the tabletop. He smiled at the group almost condescendingly. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said. "It has been a most rewarding experience." He limped out of the room and shut the door behind him.
Rutherford sighed. "Well, gentlemen, is there any discussion?"
Another silence came over the room.
Lomax said, "I thought he did quite well on my part of the examination. And he did rather well on Holland's portion. I must confess that I was somewhat disappointed by the way the latter part of the exam went, but I imagine he was rather tired by that time. He is a good student, but he doesn't show up as well as he might under pressure." He flashed an empty, pained smile at Stoner. "And you did press him a bit, Bill. You must admit that. I vote pass."
Rutherford said, "Mr.—Holland?"
Holland looked from Lomax to Stoner; he was frowning in puzzlement, and his eyes blinked. "But—well, he seemed awfully weak to me. I don't know exactly how to figure it." He swallowed uncomfortably. "This is the first orals I've sat in on here. I really don't know what the standards are, but—well, he seemed awfully weak. Let me think about it for a minute."
Rutherford nodded. "Mr.—Stoner?"
"Fail," Stoner said. "It's a clear failure."
"Oh, come now, Bill," Lomax cried. "You're being a bit hard on the boy, aren't you?"
"No," Stoner said levelly, his eyes straight before him. "You know I'm not, Holly."
"What do you mean by that?" Lomax asked; it was as if he were trying to generate feeling in his voice by raising it. "Just what do you mean?"
"Come off it, Holly," Stoner said tiredly. "The man's incompetent. There can be no question of that. The questions I asked him were those that should have been asked a fair undergraduate; and he was unable to answer a single one of them satisfactorily. And he's both lazy and dishonest. In my seminar last semester—"
"Your seminar!" Lomax laughed curtly. "Well, I've heard about that. And besides, that's another matter. The question is, how he did today. And it's clear"—his eyes narrowed—"it's clear that he did quite well today until you started in on him."
"I asked him questions," Stoner said. "The simplest questions I could imagine. I was prepared to give him every chance." He paused and said carefully, "You are his thesis adviser, and it is natural that you two should have talked over his thesis subject. So when you questioned him on his thesis he did very well. But when we got beyond that—"
"What do you mean!" Lomax shouted. "Are you suggesting that I—that there was any—"
"I am suggesting nothing, except that in my opinion the candidate did not do an adequate job. I cannot consent to his passing."
"Look," Lomax said. His voice had quieted, and he tried to smile. "I can see how I would have a higher opinion of his work than you would. He has been in several of my classes, and—no matter. I'm willing to compromise. Though I think it's too severe, I'm willing to offer him a conditional pass. That would mean he could review for a couple of semesters, and then he—"
"Well," Holland said with some relief, "that would seem to be better than giving him a clear pass. I don't know the man, but it's obvious that he isn't ready to—"
"Good," Lomax said, smiling vigorously at Holland. "Then that's settled. Well—"
"No," Stoner said. "I must vote for failure."
"God damn it," Lomax shouted. "Do you realize what you're doing, Stoner? Do you realize what you're doing to the boy?"
"Yes," Stoner said quietly, "and I'm sorry for him. I am preventing him from getting his degree, and I'm preventing him from teaching in a college or university. Which is precisely what I want to do. For him to be a teacher would be a— disaster."
Lomax was very still. "That is your final word?" he asked icily.
"Yes," Stoner said.
Lomax nodded. "Well, let me warn you, Professor Stoner, I do not intend to let the matter drop here. You have made— you have implied certain accusations here today—you have shown a prejudice that—that—"
"Gentlemen, please," Rutherford said. He looked as if he were going to weep. "Let us keep our perspective. As you know, for the candidate to pass, there must be unanimous consent. Is there no way that we can resolve this difference?"
No one spoke.
Rutherford sighed. "Very well, then, I have no alternative but to declare that—"
"Just a minute." It was Gordon Finch; during the entire examination he had been so still that the others had nearly forgotten his presence. Now he raised himself a little in his chair and addressed the top of the table in a tired but determined voice. "As acting chairman of the department I am going to make a recommendation. I trust it will be followed. I recommend that we defer the decision until the day after tomorrow. That will give us time to cool off and talk it over."
"There's nothing to talk over," Lomax said hotly. "If Stoner wants to—"
"I have made my recommendation," Finch said softly, "and it will be followed. Dean Rutherford, I suggest that we inform the candidate of our resolution of this matter."
They found Walker sitting in perfect ease in the corridor outside the conference room. He held a cigarette negligently in his right hand, and he was looking boredly at the ceiling.
"Mr. Walker," Lomax called and limped toward him.
Walker stood up; he was several inches taller than Lomax, so that he had to look down at him.
"Mr. Walker, I have been directed to inform you that the committee has been unable to reach agreement concerning your examination; you will be informed the day after tomorrow. But I assure you"—his voice rose—"I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."
Walker stood for a moment looking coolly from one of them to another. "I thank you again, gentlemen, for your consideration." He caught Stoner's eye, and the flicker of a smile went across his lips.
Gordon Finch hurried away without speaking to any of them; Stoner, Rutherford, and Holland wandered down the hall together; Lomax remained behind, talking earnestly to Walker.
"Well," Rutherford said, walking between Stoner and Holland, "it's an unpleasant business. No matter how you look at it, it's an unpleasant business."
"Yes, it is," Stoner said and turned away from them. He walked down the marble steps, his steps becoming more rapid as he neared the first floor, and went outside. He breathed deeply the smoky fragrance of the afternoon air, and breathed again, as if he were a swimmer emerging from water. Then he walked slowly toward his house.