Peter frowned and took a pair of scissors from his desk drawer. He took
one sleeve of the suit and tried to cut it. It wouldn't cut. He jabbed
at it with the point. The suit stubbornly refused to cut, snag, or tear.
"I wonder," he then said thoughtfully, "if this Rolath Guelph would
have a suit made for me; one that I could wear." He scribbled out a
note and put it in with the next batch of stuff.
The reply came back almost immediately.
_I can't promise anything, Mr. Merton, but I'll see what I can do.
R. G._
"Well, that's that," sighed Peter. "I'll just have to wait."
Another week passed, and Peter got no word from Rolath Guelph. He did,
however, get word from another group of men.
He was sitting comfortably in his office, pondering on what to do with
all his money, when the intercom on his desk buzzed.
"There are some gentlemen from the Treasury Department to see you, Mr.
Merton," said Irene's voice. She sounded scared.
"Send them in," Peter said. Come to think of it, he felt a little
uneasy, himself.
The two brisk, official-looking young men who came into the office
identified themselves as Mr. Brady and Mr. Brown, of the United States
Treasury Department. They wasted no time in getting down to business.
"Now, Mr. Merton," said Brady, "we'd like to know how you're getting
all this money."
"Well, ah--um--I saved it," he said.
"That's not what I meant," said Brady. "I'm talking about several
counterfeit bills that have been traced to you. Where did you get them?"
"But they _can't_ be counterfeit," Peter protested. "They are perfectly
good bills!"
"Oh, they're good imitations, all right," Brown said. "The most amazing
fakes I've ever seen. The paper is perfect, the engraving is beautiful;
in fact, the only thing wrong is the serial numbers. Why, some of
those numbers won't be printed on bills for twenty or thirty years yet."
"Now, Mr. Merton," said Brady, "tell us where the plates are. Who
printed these amazing phonies?"
"I don't know," Peter said. "I--I--" he stammered. Frightened, he
didn't know what to say. He was afraid to tell them about Rolath Guelph
and the Time Transfer; they'd think he was crazy.
"It won't do you any good to lie, Mr. Merton," said Brown. "We got a
search warrant this morning and went through your apartment. We found
the trunk full of money in your closet. Some of the boys are going over
them now, down at the Treasury Office."
Peter Merton gulped and said nothing. He couldn't; there was a lump in
his throat the size of a grapefruit.
"Well," Brady said, "if you won't tell us, I'm afraid we'll just have
to take you in. Come along, Mr. Merton."
Still speechless, Peter walked out of the office between the two men.
* * * * *
Peter Merton was sitting in a cell with his head in his hands when he
heard the clicking of high heels down the corridor, followed by the
heavy tread of a guard's feet.
It was Irene. "I got a lawyer for you, Peter," she said breathlessly as
she came up to the cell door.
The guard leaned against the wall and inspected his fingernails. "I
don't think he needs a lawyer, lady. What he needs is a goof-doctor.
He's flipped his cookie."
Peter managed a faint grin. "I told 'em how I got the money," he said.
"They think I'm nuts."
"But, Peter," she said, "_why_ would Rolath Guelph send counterfeit
money?"
"He didn't," Peter said. "Don't you see? He got all that money out of a
museum. There's probably bills there that were printed in every century
for the next thousand years. He just sent some bills that won't be
printed for twenty years yet."
"Well, don't you worry, I'll do something to get you out," she said.
"Couldn't we take them up to the office and show them how it works?"
"I don't know. Maybe. But Brady said that even if I were telling the
truth they'd have to take all the money away from me."
"I don't care about the money," Irene said. "All I care about is
getting you out of this horrible place."
Suddenly, a door opened at the far end of the corridor, and there were
more footsteps. It was Brady and Brown, followed by a man Peter had
never seen before.
The stranger was saying: "--after all, it's only fair that my client be
allowed to prove his story, no matter how fantastic it is."
"He'll get a chance," Brady said sharply.
The stranger turned out to be Q. Bertram Leslie, the lawyer that Irene
had engaged.
"All right," Brown said to the guard, "let him out. We'll take over."
Then he looked at Peter. "We're going up to your office, Merton, to
give you a chance to prove this screwy story you've been telling us
about a time machine. I know it's going to be a waste of time, but
justice is justice. Come along."
* * * * *
It was after six o'clock when they arrived at the offices of Crabley &
Company, and the office suite was deserted. Irene let the officers in
with a key, and they went back to Peter's private office.
"Okay," said Brady, "there is your magic safe; do your stuff."
As Peter began working the combination, Brown said: "By the way,
Merton, you'll be interested to know that the Brazilian police have
picked up this guy, Quiggs, who stole the fifty thousand from you. He
claimed he opened the package and there was nothing but a bunch of
plastic in it. But the Brazilian cops think they've got a lead on it."
Peter paid no attention. He wasn't interested in Quiggs' crime right
now, he was only interested in his own. He swung open the door and
looked inside. There was a folded note from Rolath Guelph. He opened it
and looked.
"Oh, _no_!" he said weakly. He sat down in a chair.
Brady took the note from his hand and read:
_Dear Mr. Merton,_
_We of the Terrestrial Bureau of Historical research want to extend
to you our warmest thanks for your co-operation. We now have most
of the information we want about your era. With the valuable
information you have given us, we will be able to do a great deal
more research, and will have much better success in pinpointing our
future contacts._
_It is too bad we could not meet in person, but it is impossible to
transfer living things through time. Rest assured that your name
will go down in history books as one of our most valuable contacts._
_The Transfer Field will be shut off as soon as you receive this
note. Naturally, a reversal of transfer will occur._
_With our warmest wishes,