Bowen had crossed the room and settled into a comfortable chair, taking out his pipe and tobacco pouch. "Sit down, Mr. Linger," he offered, with a gesture to a nearby chair. "This is my daughter, Barbara."
"Hello," Barbara said simply. Her voice was a soft, husky sound.
Joe merely swallowed and nodded, then crossed hurriedly to the proffered chair. Barbara sat down on the couch.
Then, haltingly at first, but with a constantly growing familiarity, Joe told them everything that had happened. He took the letter from Myytnor Skurle out of his pocket and showed it to them.
For several minutes after he finished, Mr. Bowen sat smoking his pipe and staring into space.
"Have you tried making money with it, Mr. Linger?" he asked, pensively.
"No," Joe admitted. "There doesn't seem to be any need for me to have money."
Bowen rose with sudden decision and crossed to a low writing desk. He got a piece of paper and, after some searching, a small magnifying glass. Then he returned and laid the paper on the small coffee table. "There," he said. "Change that into some five-dollar bills."
Joe stared at the paper, frowning, then cradled the bright globe in his lap, and began typing. The usual effects followed.
The paper changed into four five-dollar bills.