Dugan didn't say anything more. I hadn't listened much because I was
busy watching his fingers. He had one hand partially concealed under
the table, but I could see that he was fumbling nervously with an odd
contraption that looked like a piece of old clock.
It was a square of metal the size of a match box, and at one end was
a coil of wire like a watch-spring. On both faces of the box were
tiny buttons, like adding machine keys. Dugan kept jiggling the thing
absently, and pressing the buttons. I could hear the syncopated clicks.