The note was unsigned.
"Well," I said, "You are going to take them up on it, aren't you? This is a chance in a lifetime. In a hundred lifetimes—it's a chance in a million years. What are you waiting for, man?"
Captain Hannah shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "But does that note sound as if it had been written by a mature Adept—by, say, the father of those boys?
"Doesn't it seem more like something written by a teenage boy? Or even by a precocious nine-year-old?"
"Well, what of it?" I asked. "Provided that it gets you back there, so that you will have the chance of talking with the father?"
"I'm afraid that one or more of the Monahan children may hold a grudge against me. After all, I apparently did cause the whole tribe of them considerable humiliation and pain, in the end. If they want to get even, they have a lot of power—whatever narking and giffling may be. So here's a present for you, and I advise you to throw it away, even if I can't bring myself to do so."
Captain Hannah slammed something down on the table, jammed his head, and stalked out of the bar.
I picked up his gift and examined it. It was a small bottle. On the tag attached to it, neatly and mockingly printed, were the words, "DRINK ME."
I stared at it for a long time, thinking of opportunity—and of snarks and of boojums.
END