Had Cal Blair been really satisfied to make his gadget work, he might never have been bothered. But he tinkered with it, measured it, and toyed with it. He called Tinker Elliott to boast and found that she had gone off to Northern Landing with her illustrious brother to speak at a medical convention, and so he returned to his toy. Effectively, his toying with the Key gave enough radiation to follow. And it was followed by two parties.
The first one arrived about midnight. The doorbell rang, and Cal opened it to look into the glittering lens of a needle beam. He went white and retreated backwards until he felt a chair behind his knees. He collapsed into the chair.
"P-p-p-put that thing away!"
"This?" grinned the man, waving the needle beam.
"Shut up, Logy," snapped the other. To Cal, he said: "Where is it?"
"W-w-w-where is w-w-w-what?"
"The Key."
"Key?"
"Don't be an idiot!" snarled the first man, slapping Cal across the face with the back of his hand. Cal went white.
"Better kill me," he said coldly, "or I'll see your identity taken!"