"Very well." He bit off the words. "We'll do it."
"Whose grandfather?" asked Doctor Randall.
Pangborn's eyes glittered. "Mine, naturally. I wouldn't want to endanger any of you gentlemen. After all, it is my demonstration. I remember my grandfather jabbing me in the belly with a great horny finger when I was too young to defend myself. Giddygiddy, he used to say, the old buzzard. Died naturally. Apoplexy with a fan dancer it was, in a hotel room at the age of ninety-three. Disgraceful. Nobody ever shot him. Don't understand why not. Long overdue." Pangborn rubbed his hands together and started for the door. "How about it? Will you gentlemen accompany me to the Physics department?"
On the way over Randall nudged me and spoke out of the side of his mouth.
"Three to one Pangborn vanishes."
It seemed like good odds. If Pangborn managed to prevent his father from being born, logically he should prevent himself from being born. But I couldn't visualize him vanishing. Common sense was against it. "I'll cover that." I gave Randall three dollars.
If Pangborn did not vanish, Randall would owe me nine. If Pangborn did not vanish I would be disappointed, and money would be some consolation.