"And now—why don't you just sit back and explain it? I'll be frank. It makes no sense to me. But I'm listening."
A warm feeling swept the Press Secretary. This president we had. This solid rock of a guy. You just couldn't beat him!
The homely, earnest ex-journalist leaned forward again. "The success of this mission, Mr. President—my visit here—hinges upon whether or not you believe I'm telling the truth. I'm going to tell you some strange things. And if you doubt my word—" he shrugged, "well—I will have just wasted your time."
"Go ahead with it, Jim." The words were almost sharp now.
"All right, sir." He took a deep breath and plunged in. "I've just had a briefing such as no man on this globe ever went through. I've been to the top of Mount Ranier."
"When?"
"Tonight."
"Go on."
"I'll tell you step-by-step exactly what happened—or what seemed to happen. Then you can make your decision."
The Press Secretary began to talk. He talked for a long time. The President listened, his face a mask giving no clue whatever to his inner thoughts. This was a trick he learned over conference tables through the years. His skill at this would have made him a great poker player but he never cared for the game.