Hammer blinked. "I'd hate to pull an Alfred Hitchcock and have a .45
pointed at the audience--close-up."
Back of him, the photographer looked at the stage and made a quick
estimate. "That," he said, "would hurl a nine-foot slug of lead at the
audience!"
Tim Woodart left quietly.
* * * * *
Tim Woodart led Jenny Foster to a small table and ordered Martinis.
Jenny smiled at him and said: "Tell me how you came to invent this
thing?"
"Easy," he grinned. "I'm an avid reader of science-fiction and there
was a yarn in one of the leading magazines some time ago that dealt
with a matter transmitter. Written by a crackpot electronics engineer
by the name of George O. Smith. He was rather explicit in a vague sort
of way, but it gave me the initial idea, and here we are with it!"