With a silent nod, the man named Kronkite shut the transparent door, turned three knobs, a bell clanged and the floor of the whole affair sank some thirty degrees on one side, rose thirty on the other. Then the whirring in the chamber resumed and Ernie was led back to the bar.
"Have yourself a drink, man," his host coaxed.
"I don't need one," Ernie said. "Listen, before we go on, just one question—"
The man smiled pleasantly.
"Where the heck am I? And what is this going on in my basement?"
The smile continued. It was maddening.
"Well?" said Ernie.
"You are here," the man finally said. "And don't be silly, Ernie. Your house has no basement."
Ernie turned to the bartender. "I think I will have a drink."