"It isn't — not by two hours. We are in zone plus-seven; this shows zone plus-five — it's radio-synchronized with the master clock at Washington."
"Did you say radio-synchronized?"
"Yes. Clever, isn't it?" He held it out for inspection. "I call it a telechronometer; it's the only one of its sort to date. My nephew designed it for me. He's a bright one, that boy. He'll go far. That is" — his face clouded, as if the little interlude had only served to emphasize the tragedy that hung over them—"if any of us live that long!"
A signal light glowed at King's desk, and Steinke's face showed on the communicator screen. King answered him, then said, "Your car is ready, Dr. Lentz."
"Let Captain Harrington have it."
"Then you're not going back to Chicago?"
"No. The situation has changed. If you want me, I'm stringing along."
* * *
The following Friday, Steinke ushered Lentz into King's office. King looked almost happy as he shook hands. "When did you ground, Doctor? I didn't expect you back for another hour or so."
"Just now. I hired a cab instead of waiting for the shuttle."