Early the next afternoon, before he had a chance to get lunch, he received a call from Gordon Finch's secretary, asking him to come down to the office at once.
Finch was waiting impatiently when Stoner came into the room. He rose and motioned for Stoner to sit in the chair he had drawn beside his desk.
"Is this about the Walker business?" Stoner asked.
"In a way," Finch replied. "Lomax has asked me for a meeting to try to settle this thing. It's likely to be unpleasant. I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes alone, before Lomax gets here." He sat again and for several minutes rocked back and forth in the swivel chair, looking contemplatively at Stoner. He said abruptly, "Lomax is a good man."
"I know he is," Stoner said. "In some ways he's probably the best man in the department."
As if Stoner had not spoken Finch went on, "He has his problems, but they don't crop up very often; and when they do he's usually able to handle them. It's unfortunate that this business should have come up just now; the timing is awkward as hell. A split in the department right now—" Finch shook his head.
"Gordon," Stoner said uncomfortably, "I hope you're not—"
Finch held up his hand. "Wait," he said. "I wish I had told you this before. But then it wasn't supposed to be let out, and it wasn't really official. It's still supposed to be confidential, but—do you remember a few weeks back our talking about the chairmanship?"
Stoner nodded.
"Well, it's Lomax. He's the new head. It's finished, settled.
The suggestion came from upstairs, but I ought to tell you that I went along with it." He laughed shortly. "Not that I was in a position to do anything else. But even if I had been I would have gone along with it—then. Now I'm not so sure."
"I see," Stoner said thoughtfully. After a few moments he continued, "I'm glad you didn't tell me. I don't think it would have made any difference, but at least it wasn't there to cloud the issue."
"God damn it, Bill," Finch said. "You've got to understand. I don't give a damn about Walker, or Lomax, or—but you're an old friend. Look. I think you're right in this. Damn it, I know you're right. But let's be practical. Lomax is taking this very seriously, and he's not going to let it drop. And if it comes to a fight it's going to be awkward as hell. Lomax can be vindictive; you know that as well as I do. He can't fire you, but he can do damn near everything else. And to a certain extent I'll have to go along with him." He laughed again, bitterly. "Hell, to a large extent I'll have to go along with him. If a dean starts reversing the decisions of a department head he has to fire him from his chairmanship. Now, if Lomax got out of line, I could remove him from the chairmanship; or at least I could try. I might even get away with it, or I might not. But even if I did, there would be a fight that would split the department, maybe even the college, wide open. And, God damn it—" Finch was suddenly embarrassed; he mumbled, "God damn it, I've got to think of the college." He looked directly at Stoner. "Do you see what I'm trying to say?"
A warmth of feeling, of love and fond respect for his old friend, came over Stoner. He said, "Of course I do, Gordon. Did you think I wouldn't understand?"
"All right," Finch said. "And there's one more thing. Somehow Lomax has got his finger in the president's nose, and he leads him around like a cut bull. So it may be even rougher than you think. Look, all you'd have to do is say you'd reconsidered. You could even blame it on me—say I made you do it."
"It isn't a matter of my saving face, Gordon."
"I know that," Finch said. "I said it wrong. Look at it this way. What does it matter about Walker? Sure, I know; it's the principle of the thing; but there's another principle you ought to think of."
"It's not the principle," Stoner said. "It's Walker. It would be a disaster to let him loose in a classroom."
"Hell," Finch said wearily. "If he doesn't make it here, he can go somewhere else and get his degree; and despite everything he might even make it here. You could lose this, you know, no matter what you do. We can't keep the Walkers out."
"Maybe not," Stoner said. "But we can try."
Finch was silent for several moments. He sighed. "All right. There's no use keeping Lomax waiting any longer. We might as well get it over with." He got up from his desk and started for the door that led to the small anteroom. But as he passed Stoner, Stoner put his hand on his arm, delaying him for a moment.
"Gordon, do you remember something Dave Masters said once?"
Finch raised his brows in puzzlement. "Why do you bring Dave Masters up?"
Stoner looked across the room, out of the window, trying to remember. "The three of us were together, and he said— something about the University being an asylum, a refuge from the world, for the dispossessed, the crippled. But he didn't mean Walker. Dave would have thought of Walker as —as the world. And we can't let him in. For if we do, we become like the world, just as unreal, just as . . . The only hope we have is to keep him out."
Finch looked at him for several moments. Then he grinned.
"You son-of-a-bitch," he said cheerfully. "We'd better see Lomax now." He opened the door, beckoned, and Lomax came into the room.
He came into the room so stiffly and formally that the slight hitch in his right leg was barely noticeable; his thin handsome face was set and cold, and he held his head high, so that his rather long and wavy hair nearly touched the hump that disfigured his back beneath his left shoulder. He did not look at either of the two men in the room with him; he took a chair opposite Finch's desk and sat as erect as he could, staring at the space between Finch and Stoner. He turned his head slightly toward Finch.
"I asked for the three of us to meet for a simple purpose. I wish to know whether Professor Stoner has reconsidered his ill-advised vote yesterday."
"Mr. Stoner and I have been discussing the matter," Finch said. "I'm afraid that we've been unable to resolve it."
Lomax turned to Stoner and stared at him; his light blue eyes were dull, as if a translucent film had dropped over them. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to bring some rather serious charges out in the open."
"Charges?" Finch's voice was surprised, a little angry. "You never mentioned anything about—"
"I'm sorry," Lomax said. "But this is necessary." He said to Stoner, "The first time you spoke to Charles Walker was when he asked you for admittance to your graduate seminar. Is that right?"
"That's right," Stoner said.
"You were reluctant to admit him, were you not?"
"Yes," Stoner said. "The class already had twelve students."
Lomax glanced at some notes he held in his right hand. "And when the student told you he had to get in, you reluctantly admitted him, at the same time saying that his admission would virtually ruin the seminar. Is that right?"
"Not exactly," Stoner said. "As I remember, I said one more in the class would—"
Lomax waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. I'm just trying to establish a context. Now, during this first conversation, did you not question his competence to do the work in the seminar?"
Gordon Finch said tiredly, "Holly, where's all this getting us? What good do you—"
"Please," Lomax said. "I have said that I have charges to bring. You must allow me to develop them. Now. Did you not question his competence?"
Stoner said calmly, "I asked him a few questions, yes, to see whether he was capable of doing the work."
"And did you satisfy yourself that he was?"
"I was unsure, I believe," Stoner said. "It's difficult to remember."
Lomax turned to Finch. "We have established, then, first that Professor Stoner was reluctant to admit Walker to his seminar; second, that his reluctance was so intense that he threatened Walker with the fact that his admission would ruin the seminar; third, that he was at least doubtful that Walker was competent to do the work; and fourth, that despite this doubt and these strong feelings of resentment, he allowed him in the class anyway."