"No deal," I told him. "I was just warning him that killing you and taking the gadget wouldn't do any good, that we've covered you. He won't bother having anything done to you if he knows that the secret of the gadget is out already."
Howley's eyes widened behind those spectacles of his. "You mean they'd kill me? I thought Nevada gamblers were honest."
"Oh, they are, they are. But this is a threat to their whole industry. It's more than that, it may destroy them. Some of them might kill to keep that from happening. But you don't have to worry now."
"Thanks. Tell me, do you think we've succeeded?"
"In what you set out to do? Certainly. When we mail out those gadgets to people all over the state, the place will be in an uproar. With all the publicity this case is getting, it'll have to work. You now have a court decision on your side, a decision which says that a psionic device can be legally used to influence gambling games.
"Why, man, they'll have to start investigating! You'll have every politico in the State of Nevada insisting that scientists work on that thing. To say nothing of what the syndicate will do."
"All I wanted to do," said Howley, "was force people to take notice of psionics. I guess I've done that."
"You certainly have, brother. I wonder what it will come to?"
"I wonder, myself, sometimes," Howley said.
That was three and a half years ago. Neither Howley nor I are wondering now. According to the front page of today's Times, the first spaceship, with a crew of eighty aboard, reached Mars this morning. And, on page two, there's a small article headlined: ROCKET OBSOLETE, SAY SCIENTISTS.