Brady looked up at Peter with what could well be called a jaundiced
eye. He said. "Did you think this would get you off the hook? How
stupid do you think we are? Phony bills, a phony story, phony
letter--Merton, you're just plain phony, all the way through. Come on
along; it's back to the hoosegow for you. And this time, try--"
It is difficult to say what Brady might have suggested that Peter try,
for he never finished the sentence. He was interrupted by a sudden roar
of sound that reminded him of a broken steam pipe. Suddenly, the air
was filled with books, magazines, papers, clothing, shoes, ash trays,
cigarettes, pencils, pens, candy, sandwiches, and a thousand and one
other things, all spewing from the safe like water out of a fire hose.
[Illustration: Irene gasped as her dress was snatched back into the
other world.]
Amid the confusion Peter saw Irene running for the door, clad only in
the sheerest of bra and panties.
"Where is Brady?" shouted Brown. "Why did that girl run off? What
happened?"
"I'm not sure what happened," Peter said, "but Irene had a perfectly
good reason for running off. And as for Brady--"
He pointed toward the tremendous heap of stuff on the floor.
One hand was groping feebly from its center.
Irene sipped at her coffee, while Peter, sitting across the cafe table,
explained to her.
"Of course they didn't have a case against me without evidence, and
when all the money vanished, they had no evidence. So they had to let
me go."
"But I don't see exactly why the things vanished," Irene said. "What
happened to my beautiful dress? That was terribly embarrassing!"
_But very beautiful_, Peter thought. "Well, as near as I can figure
out, this Time Transfer business only works so long as the time field
is working. As goon as they shut it off, everything went back to its
proper time. All the things we gave them came back to us, and all the
money, and your dress, and the other gadgets we got went back to the
Thirtieth Century, where they belonged."
"It's a shame, in a way," Irene said. "We could have used that trunkful
of money to get married on."
Peter's grin broadened. "Don't worry about that. Remember, Old Man
Crabley gave me the right to keep any money that was recovered from
Quiggs."
"Did you get it?" Irene asked excitedly. "Did Quiggs tell where he hid
it?"
Peter shook his head. "Nope. He didn't steal it. I found the money in
that pile of stuff in my office.
"Evidently, Rolath Guelph was trying out his machine and took the
bundle of money and replaced it with another bundle of that queer
plastic paper of his. When Quiggs sneaked in, he just stole the bundle
from the Thirtieth Century and he put a third bundle in. He got all the
way to Brazil before he opened the package and found out he didn't have
anything."
"Fifty thousand dollars," Irene said dreamily. "Well, that ought to be
enough to start on, anyway."