"Certainly not!" said the owner's uncle. "I want it right
here where I can touch it." He looked around him. "The
fact of that matter is," he went on in a lower tone, "this
goes up to Washington with me tomorrow. I can't discuss
what's in it. But as we're among friends, I can mention
that where it's going is the Pentagon."
"Oh," said Fogarty respectfully. "Something new from
the factories."
"Something very new," the owner's uncle agreed, and
he winked. "And I'd better get back to the hotel with it
But there's one thing, Mr. Fogarty. I don't have much
time for baseball, but it's a family affair, after all, and
whenever I can help I mean, it just occurs to me that
possibly, with the help of what's in this suitcase "That is,
would you like me to see if I could help out?"
"Help out how?" asked Fogarty suspiciously.
"Well I really mustn't discuss what's in the suitcase.
But would it hurt Boleslaw, for example, to be a little
more, well, modest?"
The manager exploded, "No."
The owner's uncle nodded. "That's what I've thought.
Well, I must go. Will you ask Mr. Boleslaw to give me a
ring at the hotel so we can have dinner together, if it's
convenient?"
It was convenient, all right. Boley had always wanted
to see how the other half lived; and they had a fine dinner,
served right in the suite, with five waiters in attendance
and four kinds of wine. Boley kept pushing the little
glasses of wine away, but after all the owner's uncle was
the owner's uncle, and if he thought it was all right
It must have been pretty strong wine, because Boley began
to have trouble following the conversation.
It was all right as long as it stuck to earned-run averages
and batting percentages, but then it got hard to follow,
like a long, twisting grounder on a dry September field.
Boley wasn't going to admit that, though. "Sure," he said,
trying to follow; and "You say the fourth dimension?" he
said; and, "You mean a time machine, like?" he said; but
he was pretty confused.
The owner's uncle smiled and filled the wine glasses
again.
Somehow the black suitcase had been unlocked, in a
slow, difficult way. Things made out of crystal and steel
were sticking out of it. "Forget about the time machine,"
said the owner's uncle patiently. "It's a military secret,
anyhow. I'll thank you to forget the very words, because
heaven knows what the General would think if he found
out Anyway, forget it. What about you, Boley? Do you
still say you can hit any pitcher who ever lived and strike
out any batter?"
