dropped sharply to a quiet lakefront framed by dark
pines. There was no one in sight, but a small wooden dock ran out into
the lake. At the far end of the dock an old rowboat lay tethered.
And--quite obviously--it was no longer the middle of a bright
afternoon; the air was beginning to dim, to shift towards evening.

Barney turned to find McAllen's mild, speculative eyes on him, and saw
the old man had put a tackle box and fishing rod on the table.

"Your disclosures disturbed me more than you may have realized,"
McAllen remarked by way of explanation. His lips twitched in the
shadow of a smile. "At such times I find nothing quite so soothing as
to drop a line into water for a while. I've got some thinking to do,
too. So let's get down to the dock. There ought to be a little bait
left in the minnow pail."

* * * * *

When they returned to the cabin some time later, McAllen was in a
pensive mood. He started a pot of coffee in the small kitchen, then
quickly cleaned the tackle and put it away. Barney sat at the table,
smoking and watching him, but made no attempt at conversation.

McAllen poured the coffee, produced sugar and powdered milk, and
settled down opposite Barney. He said abruptly, "Have you had any
suspicions about the reason for the secretive mumbo jumbo?"

"Yes," Barney said, "I've had suspicions. But it wasn't until _that_
happened"--he waved his hand at the wall out of which they appeared to
have stepped--"that I came to a definite conclusion."

"Eh?" McAllen's eyes narrowed suddenly. "What was the conclusion?"

"That you've invented something that's really a little too good."

"Too good?" said McAllen. "Hm-m-m. Go on."

"It doesn't take much power to operate the thing, does it?"

"Not," said McAllen dryly, "if you're talking about the kind of power
one pays for."

"I am. Can the McAllen Tube be extended to any point on Earth?"

"I should think so."

"And you financed the building of this model yourself. Not very
expensive. If the secret leaked out, I'd never know who was going to
materialize in my home at any time, would I? Or with what intentions."

"That," McAllen nodded, "is about the size of it."

Barney crushed out his cigarette, lit a fresh one, blew out a thin
streamer of smoke. "Under the circumstances," he remarked, "it's
unfortunate you can't get the thing shut off again, isn't it?"

McAllen was silent for some seconds. "So you've guessed that, to