Good, he thought.
The end of the last stray survivors of the demolition he had ordered on the planet Earth, he thought.
The final end of this dangerous (to the psychiatric profession) and subversive (also to the psychiatric profession) experiment to find the Question to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything, he thought.
There would be some celebration with his fellows tonight, and in the morning they would meet again their unhappy, bewildered and highly profitable patients, secure in the knowledge that the Meaning of Life would not now be, once and for all, well and truly sorted out, he thought.
``Family's always embarrassing isn't it?'' said Ford to Zaphod as the smoke began to clear.
He paused, then looked about.
``Where's Zaphod?'' he said.
Arthur and Trillian looked about blankly. They were pale and shaken and didn't know where Zaphod was.
``Marvin?'' said Ford, ``Where's Zaphod?''
A moment later he said:
The robot's corner was empty.
The ship was utterly silent. It lay in thick black space. Occasionally it rocked and swayed. Every instrument was dead, every vision screen was dead. They consulted the computer. It said:
``I regret that I have been temporarily closed to all communication. Meanwhile, here is some light music.''
They turned off the light music.
They searched every corner of the ship in increasing bewilderment and alarm. Everywhere was dead and silent. Nowhere was there any trace of Zaphod or of Marvin.
One of the last areas they checked was the small bay in which the Nutri-Matic machine was located.
On the delivery plate of the Nutri-Matic Drink Synthesizer was a small tray, on which sat three bone china cups and saucers, a bone china jug of milk, a silver teapot full of the best tea Arthur had ever tasted, and a small printed note saying ``Wait''.