"So—" Manning was numbed by surprise. "So you've had your eye on us from the start."
"Just about."
"And you believe our story?"
"Since the Germans didn't, I'm inclined to," admitted Kane. "We know that more things are possible than German imagination can swallow; we've got several such things here. Of course, it's always just possible that you're German spies, using a crazy wheels-within-wheels stunt to get on the inside. I don't think so, though, and fortunately I don't have to guess." He turned to Vzryvov. "Got the apparatus set up?"
"Since an hour ago," said the Russian.
Kane slid off the table top. He became brusque. "If you'll just step into the next room, we'll read your minds and settle all doubts."
Fifteen minutes later, Igor Vzryvov switched off the psychoanalyzer. Manning glanced up under the spidery hemisphere of wire that gathered the faint broadcasts of the brain, and met Kane's warm smile. The underground leader tossed aside the graphs he had been studying, and extended a welcoming hand.
"You're genuine, all right. No need to examine your friend—your mind says he came with you out of the past, and that's enough and to spare."
"Swell!" said Dugan. "I didn't much like the idea of having that thing poking around inside my head."