Wally waved an instant-welder in front of Cal's nose. The tip glowed like a white-hot stylus. "Might singe him a bit," offered Wally.
"Put the iron down," snapped Benj. Wally laid the three-foot shaft on its stand, where it cooled slowly. "Cal wouldn't talk. I know. That thing would only make him madder than a hornet."
"So what do we do with the loke?" asked Wally.
"Take him home and work on him there," said Benj. "Trap his hands."
No more was said until they dropped onto Cal's rooftop. He was ushered down the same way that he had gone up—with beams looking at his backbone. They carried his equipment down, and set it carefully on the table.
"Now," said Benj. "Make with the talk."
"O.K.," said Cal. "This is a cavity resonator—"
"This is too easy," objected Wally. "Something's fishy."
Cal looked at the speaker with scorn. "You imbecile. You've been reading about Murdoch's Hoard. Vast treasure. Money, jewels, and securities. Valuable as hell three hundred and fifty years ago, but not worth a mouthful of ashes today. Why shouldn't I tell you about it?"