"'I called the other day,' I went on. 'Your sister spoke to me. Give her my regards.'
"'My sister's left me,' he said shortly, 'to stew, as you might say, in my own time machine.'
"'Really?' I said. 'Just what do you have in mind to do next?'
"'Let me ask you something, Mr. Harrigan,' he answered. 'Would you sit around here waiting for an atomic war if you could get away?'
"'Certainly not,' I answered.
"'Well, then, I don't intend to, either.'
"All this while he was standing at the door, refusing to open it any wider or to let me in. He was making it pretty plain that there wasn't much he had to say to me. And he seemed to be in a hurry.
"'Remember me to the inquiring public thirty years hence, Mr. Harrigan,' he said at last, and closed the door.
"That was the last I saw of him."
Harrigan finished his scotch and soda appreciatively and looked around for the bartender.