Perhaps Byerley was not quite so confident that evening when he arrived home. The man in the wheelchair looked up and smiled.
'You're late, Steve,' he whispered. He opened his mouth with difficulty.
'I know, John,' Byerley said gently. 'A peculiar problem delayed me.'
John's face had obviously been terribly burned years ago, but his eyes were clear. They were anxious now. 'Nothing you can't solve?'
'I'm not exactly sure. I may need your help: you're the clever one in the family. Let's go out into the garden. It's a beautiful evening.'
Two strong arms lifted John from the wheelchair and gently Byerley carried him through the house into the garden. Carefully, he put John down on the grass. 'Tell me about your problem.'
'Quinn is going to fight me as governor. He's going to say publicly that I'm a robot.' John's eyes opened wide. 'It's impossible. I don't believe it.'
'It's true. Two scientists from US Robots came to my office today to argue with me.' John's thin hands pulled at the grass. 'I see.'
'But I've an idea. Listen to me and tell me if we can do it.'
Francis Quinn stared at Alfred Lanning. Lanning stared fiercely at Susan Calvin, who stared quietly at Quinn.
'We've done what you asked,' Lanning said for the second time. 'We've witnessed the man eat. He's not a robot.'