"You'll do history a better turn if you take to investigating the magnetic properties of mass."
"Is that a matter of history, too?"
Hedgerly shrugged. "If I told you all I know about it," he said in a superior tone that made Peter want to commit homicide, "then you'd have too much time to sit around and feel frustrated because fate is a written book."
"Spinach," snorted Peter. His hand hit the main switch again and the humming roar leaped out at them from all sides. Peter grinned as he noted the wrist watch on Hedgerly's arm. Unless the character had a one thousand per cent nonmagnetic movement, the insides by now would be keeping the Devil's Own Time.
It was nine o'clock. For the eleventh time since dinner, Peter leaned out of his study and called: "Now?"
Hedgerly shook his head. "Not yet," he said.
"Well," said Peter this time. "Come in here. I'm on the trail of something."
"I know," replied Hedgerly. "You've discovered the Hedgerly Effect."
"The what?" stumbled Peter.