[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, October 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Martin Hammer should have been prepared for anything. As the world's
foremost producer of motion pictures, he should have taken any
situation from earthquake to fatherhood without a qualm or a turned
eyebrow. But Hammer had not seen everything--yet.
A noise presented itself at Hammer's office door. Not the noise of
knocking or tapping, nor even the racket made by attempts to breach
the portal with a heavy blunt instrument. It was more like the sound
of a dentist's drill working on wood, or perhaps one of those light
burring tools, or maybe even a light scroll saw.
Then, with all the assurance in the world, a man's hand came through
the door, the fingers clenched about an imaginary doorknob. The hand
swung an imaginary door aside and as it moved, the wood of the real
door fell to the floor in a pile of finely-ground sawdust.
Once the imaginary door was thrust aside, the rest of the intruder
entered, leaving the exact outline of his silhouette in the door.