“But not an unfair one.”
Mart spread his hands and indicated a chair. “And so you have come back.”
“Yes,” said Don Wolfe, “to congratulate you and to accept your apologies.”
“I’m apologizing now?”
“You’d better! I carried it off.”
For the space of a half dozen heart beats Mart held his breath. His eyes narrowed on his visitor. “The rocket?”
“Yeah.” Wolfe took from his pocket a small object that looked like a clutter of wires wrapped about a half dozen peanut tubes and an assortment of condensers. He bent over and clamped it to the leg of the desk.
“Move back a little.”
Mart did so. Abruptly the desk lifted a foot off the floor and remained hanging in midair. He reached out to touch it. It swung gently aside, but when he pressed downward it resisted all his efforts.
“I see.” He pinched his lips thoughtfully and leaned back in the chair. “And now, naturally, I’m supposed to ask what you’re going to do with it.”