"You stinking--" "Shaddup," growled Channing. "And start explaining what this is for." "I'm ruined!" "Try it again and we'll ruin you some more," promised Don. "I have an aversion to being shot at." "So have I," said Walt. "He wasn't shooting at you," said Don. "No, but I'd have been next, wouldn't I, Lazarus?" "Laurus," snarled Towle. "Now look," said Channing in a voice that gave no idea of softness, "you're licked from here on in. This weapon of yours is now ours, and we'll hang it in the museum with other mementos of our having been shot at. Luckily, this makes the first time that it came close. Say--you aren't an old crony of Hellion Murdoch?" "Never heard of him." "Good. Now, as I was saying, we've disarmed you.... Walt, take a prowl of his person and see if he has any more lethal instruments concealed thereupon ... and we're inclined to get up off the floor and resume our roles as gentlemen. Besides, I want to know what you had in mind besides assassination." * * * * * They lifted the man from his supine position and planted him roughly in an overstuffed chair. Don and Walt sat on one edge of the desk, ready to move in with the first wrong move. Don snapped the communicator and spoke to the girl outside. "Mr. Towle had a little trouble with an exploding cigar, Lorraine. No one need enter." "Now," he said to Towle, "precisely what gives?" "I'm ruined." "Yup. You are. But why?" "You ruined me." "Me?" asked Channing. "Not that I know of." "I'm bankrupt." "_Bankrupt?_" laughed Channing. Towle bristled at the laugh. "It's no laughing matter, Channing. For most of my life I've been saving to retire. In the turn of a wrist, you have made all my savings useless." "Are you starving?" "No." "Are you homeless?" "No." "Are you being deprived of anything?" "Um--no." "Then what's all the shooting for?" "But my savings?" "Look, Towle. You worked hard for them, I do not doubt. But you've got just what you wanted anyway. You have a duplicator?" "Of course. I bought it early." "Good. Then use it and quit worrying about your savings." "But the years of deprivation to build up that fortune." "Tough," said Channing. "I suppose you're mad because the foolish grasshopper is now enjoying the same benefit as the ambitious ant. That's not right, I suppose. But on the other hand, why should any man be a slave to toil?" "Man shall earn his bread by the sweat of his brow." "Baloney. Next you'll be telling me that men were better off with a ten-hour day and a six-day week." "They didn't seem to get into trouble as much." "Nor did they have as much fun," said Channing. "Nor were there as many developments made in the fields of science and industry. Men slaved and worked and lived and died without ever seeing the pleasure of the country sky. The radio would have been useless without leisure to enjoy its offerings. And who will say that radio is a useless science?"