The image on the screen expanded as Norman Hamlin leaned toward the view-plate. "You are Major Carl Keating, retired?" the mouth asked.
Carl pushed the instrument back hoping the other man would do the same. "Retired as of last Tuesday," he said, "at the tender age of thirty-six. What's on your mind, doctor?"
The mouth got bigger till it filled the entire screen. "Major Keating, would it be possible for you to come out to Long Island tonight?"
"It would not!"
"Please it's...."
"Dr. Hamlin," Carl said not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "in the first place I don't even know who you are; in the second place I'm packing for a vacation in Paris; and in the third place if there's anything I detest, it's talking down someone's throat. Now if you don't mind...."
"Wait!" The image on the screen diminished, till over the narrow shoulders Carl could make out a book-lined study, and beyond that a sunken living room. "It's important—very important."
"So's my vacation."
"Suppose I were to make it worth while to postpone your vacation?"
"I'm afraid my while is worth more than you could offer," Keating said bluntly.