And there was Kato Sugihara, looking younger than his twenty-eight
years, who had begun to demonstrate the existence of whole orders of
structure below the level of nuclear particles.
There was Suzanne Maillard, her gray hair upswept from a face that had
never been beautiful but which was alive with something rarer than mere
beauty: she possessed, at the brink of fifty, a charm and smartness that
many women half her age might have envied, and she knew more about
cosmic rays than any other person living.
And Adam Lowiewski, his black mustache contrasting so oddly with his
silver hair, frantically scribbling equations on his doodling-pad, as
though his racing fingers could never keep pace with his brain, and
explaining them, with obvious condescension, to the boyish-looking
Japanese beside him. He was one of the greatest of living mathematicians
by anybody's reckoning--_the_ greatest, by his own.
And Sir Neville Lawton, the electronics expert, with thinning red-gray
hair and meticulously-clipped mustache, who always gave the impression
of being in evening clothes, even when, as now, he was dressed in faded
khaki.
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