Rick suddenly sat up straight. He had it! He knew how the information could be handed to the contestant! At least he knew in theory. He sat back and started to work out the details.
The miner made it. Limp and happy, he came out of the booth, shook hands with the MC, and staggered off with an armload of books containing answers to next week's series of questions. The announcer went into the final commercial, with Barby and Scotty listening attentively. Rick didn't listen. He had a wonderful idea on which he was putting the finishing touches.
As programs shifted, Scotty reached up and turned off the set. Dismal left his place under the table and trotted off to the kitchen.
"Me for a doughnut," Scotty announced.
Barby was still spellbound by the miner's success. "It's just fantastic, utterly, how much he knows." She shook her smooth blond head. "I wish I knew that much about something."
"Want to win a million?" Rick asked.
"Who doesn't?" Barby returned dreamily. Suddenly she stared. "You have a Look on your face," she stated. "Rick Brant, you're cooking up something!"
Rick grinned. "I can win the quiz," he said casually. "It's easy. Let me know if either of you want to win. Of course you might end up in jail if you're not real careful, but I think it'll work."
Scotty looked his disbelief. "Easy, huh? What are you expert on?"
"Nothing," Rick said airily. "And anything. Of course we all know you're an expert on eating, but that's not a category, it's a capacity."