“Another—George, what kind of copy were you setting this morning? ”
But of course I’d already guessed.
There was quite a long silence after he’d told me, and I didn’t say anything until we were ready to leave. Then: “George, was there a time limit on that demand?”
He nodded. “Twenty-four hours. Of course I couldn’t get another machine in that length of time anyway, unless I found a used one somewhere locally, but—Well, I didn’t argue about the time limit because—Well, I told you what I’m going to do.”
“It’s suicide!”
“Probably. But—”
I took hold of his arm. “George,” I said, “there must be something we can do. Something. Give me till tomorrow morning. I’ll see you at eight; and if I’ve not thought of anything worth trying, well—I’ll try to help you destroy it. Maybe one of us can get a vital part or—”
“No, you can’t risk your life, Walter. It was my fault—”
“It won’t solve the problem just to get yourself killed,” I pointed out. “O.K.? Give me until tomorrow morning?” He agreed and we left it at that.
Morning came. It came right after midnight, and it stayed, and it was still there at seven forty-five when I left my room and went down to meet George—to confess to him that I hadn’t thought of anything.