"In my own time this house is preserved as a museum. I simply made a key from the restored model."
In silence we approached the cellar door. A look at my wristwatch told me it was seven-thirty. If Angus Haney had worked late last night he would probably still be asleep. The job would be a lead-pipe cinch.
I watched my companion slip a key into the lock. In a moment, the door stood ajar and I was peering down a steep flight of bare wood steps. Nodding at each other, we began to go down.
We stopped short at the foot of the staircase. There was someone down there.
"I thought you said he'd be sleeping," I protested, barely forming the words with my lips.
"I'm sure he's asleep—but I didn't know he'd sleep down in the cellar. Apparently he didn't want to leave the machine even for a minute."
Faint light entered the cellar through the small high windows. At first I saw nothing but the usual clutter of basement junk, but then in the far corner beyond the water tank I saw something which didn't belong. Make that two things. First, there was a man asleep on a cot. Second, there was this machine.
For all I know of gadgets, it could have been a super-powered ham radio set. But a ham doesn't come complete with a glass-enclosed compartment big enough for a man.
We stalked across the floor, Great-great pausing to pick something up. It was a length of steel pipe and with it he wouldn't have much trouble demolishing Angus Haney's untried time machine.
This was it. This was my big day. Ten thousand bucks for almost nothing. I looked at the plump man sleeping on the cot in front of his invention. I felt no remorse. His adversary had made a better offer, so what the hell could he expect?