The Climax of the d’Anconias

           Thenewspaperwasthefirstthingshenoticed.ItwasclutchedtightlyinEddie’shand,asheenteredheroffice.Sheglancedupathisface:itwastenseandbewildered.

           "Dagny,areyouverybusy?"

           "Why?"

           "Iknowthatyoudon’tliketotalkabouthim.Butthere’ssomethinghereIthinkyououghttosee."

           Sheextendedherhandsilentlyforthenewspaper.

           ThestoryonthefrontpageannouncedthatupontakingovertheSanSebastiánMines,thegovernmentofthePeople’sStateofMexicohaddiscoveredthattheywereworthless—blatantly,totally,hopelesslyworthless.Therewasnothingtojustifythefiveyearsofworkandthemillionsspent;nothingbutemptyexcavations,laboriouslycut.Thefewtracesofcopperwerenotworththeeffortofextractingthem.Nogreatdepositsofmetalexistedorcouldbeexpectedtoexistthere,andtherewerenoindicationsthatcouldhavepermittedanyonetobedeluded.ThegovernmentofthePeople’sStateofMexicowasholdingemergencysessionsabouttheirdiscovery,inanuproarofindignation;theyfeltthattheyhadbeencheated.

           Watchingher,EddieknewthatDagnysatlookingatthenewspaperlongaftershehadfinishedreading.Heknewthathehadbeenrighttofeelahintoffear,eventhoughhecouldnottellwhatfrightenedhimaboutthatstory.

           Hewaited.Sheraisedherhead.Shedidnotlookathim.Hereyeswerefixed,intentinconcentration,asiftryingtodiscernsomethingatagreatdistance.

           Hesaid,hisvoicelow,"Franciscoisnotafool.