"It's Haney. Angus W. Haney, Mr. Foley."
"Now what about the invention?"
"It's almost finished," Angus W. Haney said. "At the moment I can't prove to you that it works. Unless you believe my great great great great grandson really is what I say he is."
"Whoever heard of a—"
"That is crucial, Mr. Foley. Because if you believe he is what I say he is, then you know my invention will be a success. You see, what I am in the process of inventing is a time machine."
That was enough for one day and I guess Angus W. Haney knew it was enough. He gave me his card and told me to call him and I said that I would. After he had left, I got out the office bottle—which that winter was bourbon—and poured myself a good hard slug which went down smoothly. It's a hoax, I kept telling myself. It has to be a hoax.
But was it? I guess I wasn't entirely convinced, because Angus Haney had said that his four times grandson was using my Sue and Sammy—via mental suggestion—to kill me. And that being the case, I decided against going home that night. What the hell, a guy couldn't take chances, not in my business. You learned to be careful or else you left the business in a hurry or they carried you out. So, I'd wait and see.
I called up home and made some kind of excuse, then took a room downtown in the Hazel Arms Hotel. I checked in, showered, and went outside for a good meal. When I returned to the Hazel Arms it was early so I killed some time at the bar, then went out and took in a movie.
At ten o'clock that evening I went upstairs to turn in. Kind of an early hour for a private eye, I know, but I was bushed and I guess I'm not as young as I used to be. I shut the door behind me and was about to turn on the light when a voice said: