Jeff dusted himself off. "He's headed to the end of the line," he said harshly. "Remember? He told us about it. Without credentials, he'll land in the convict gang, down around the year 600 A.D. That's a bad time on this continent. Men who work there don't return--they help build back the time groove." Ann smiled triumphantly. "Good for you! He deserved it. Imagine running a commercial kidnaping enterprise! And now we can ride home, can't we?" Jeff, beginning to enjoy himself, shook his head. "Not just yet. First I've got a date with Mr. Bullen." When they rapped on Bullen's door, Kersey welcomed them with an amused smile. "We thought you would be back," he purred. "Where is Snader?" Jeff brushed past him to the drawing room, where Bullen sat by the window. "I've decided to help you, Bullen," Jeff said. Bullen nodded his big head. "Naturally." "But I name my own price. What do you pay Kersey?" Bullen looked up with a grim smile. "Fifty thousand a year. I wonder now if he worths it." "What's that? Dollars?" "We call them fiscals. Probably somehow much the same. Why?" "Listen, Bullen. If I help introduce color TV, there'll be big money in it. I won't be a hog. You pay me forty thousand a year until we go into production. Then we'll make a new deal, giving me a royalty on sales." Kersey's face was scarlet. "You young greenshoot! Who do you think you are? You'll work for nothing, if we say so." "Guess again," Jeff said. "Your slave trader won't be bringing any more engineers for you. So you take me at my price--or nobody." The big man laughed. "You got rid of Snader, eh? Well, well. He was a rogue. I thought he would run into trouble soon or late." * * * * * Kersey swore, but Bullen seemed to grasp the situation and waved him to silence. "I like your fire, young man. With chromatics, we'll make millions, so you're worth forty thousand plus royalties. Am I true in thinking you won't want the apartment I reserved for you?" "Right. We'll retain our home in my own time. I'll commute to work here every morning--it's quicker than commuting to the city in my own time." "In your thorough way," Kersey said sarcastically, "you have doubtless figured out how you can spend our money back in your time." "I've thought about it," Jeff agreed. "There will be something I can convert it into and carry back. Diamonds, maybe." Bullen laughed again. "You're solid, my boy. Get his work papers ready, Kersey. These young people want to get home. I'll take Jeff to the factory when he comes workward in the morning." Jeff stood up. "See you tomorrow, Bullen. Come on, Ann. We're going home--home to our own time." End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Butterfly 9, by Donald Keith