I gulped. "Plenty. Cut it off, please." In the screen I saw the blonde just behind me, and I didn't want Slim to see her put her arms around me when the roller coaster went over the dip.
It was hard to make out the faces.
Slim smiled and snapped a bunch of switches. The lights in the tubes went out. "Think what this will mean in criminal prosecutions, to be able to follow a man in the past. Present-day testimony will be archaic. The courts won't have to take anybody's word for anything; they can follow a man and watch him in the past."
"Judge Monday wouldn't admit that kind of evidence," I pointed out.
"Naturally not. It will take twenty-five years to get this kind of evidence admitted in court. In the meantime, we'll have to go easy. But we can make millions, just by bluffing. When we know that a man was playing poker in Jones's basement until six o'clock Sunday morning, then we can bluff and put it over. Just so we don't tangle with a real tough guy the first time. For instance—sh! Somebody's at the door."
Slim ran to the door while I ran for my pants. I ducked back into the other room and got them on. I heard the voice. It was a man's voice, and I had heard it before—just recently. I peeked out. Yes, it was Tom Ellingbery. I stayed quiet.
"A pot-bellied little guy just served divorce papers on me," he said harshly. "I got off the train and came here. A friend of mine sent me; I want your services."