"My comings and goings are secret," Tedor said bitterly, hurrying again along the slidefloor. "So are Fornswitthe's."
"I'll make a note of that," Dorlup promised.
"Haven't you done enough already? Someone on your staff talked. You talked. Either or both. Fornswitthe's in trouble. I hope you're satisfied, Dorlup."
"You're being melodramatic. I happen to know your territory is the 20th century; perhaps that's responsible for the way you talk. Couldn't be better for my purposes, you know. The Age of Atoms and Intrigue. Can't you see it now, in lights, glaring across a million solidio screens? Atoms and Intrigue, The Life and Adventures of Tedor Barwan, Time Agent. How about ten thousand? Wait, don't answer. What do you know about the year 1955?"
Tedor didn't even turn to look at him. He elbowed his way through the crowd.
"You know, man. You must know." Dorlup huffed and puffed but managed to hold a running conversation, mostly a monologue. "The mystery year, with a capital 'M' if I ever saw one. It's in your territory. If we can crack that particular barrier and do a solidio on 1955, we'd make a fortune. I'll split it with you. We could call it '1955!' Simple. Stark. To the point...."
"Just what makes you think the 20th century is my territory?"
"Oh, experienced agents like you can't ever be tricked into talking, but younger men—"
Tedor clenched his fists, then calmed himself with an effort. "Because you had to visit Fornswitthe, he may be dead now."
"Really! It wasn't too hard to find his apartment, though why you Agents change your location every week is beyond me."