As Peter began working the combination, Brown said: "By the way, Merton, you'll be interested to know that the Brazilian police have picked up this guy, Quiggs, who stole the fifty thousand from you. He claimed he opened the package and there was nothing but a bunch of plastic in it. But the Brazilian cops think they've got a lead on it." Peter paid no attention. He wasn't interested in Quiggs' crime right now, he was only interested in his own. He swung open the door and looked inside. There was a folded note from Rolath Guelph. He opened it and looked. "Oh, _no_!" he said weakly. He sat down in a chair. Brady took the note from his hand and read: _Dear Mr. Merton,_ _We of the Terrestrial Bureau of Historical research want to extend to you our warmest thanks for your co-operation. We now have most of the information we want about your era. With the valuable information you have given us, we will be able to do a great deal more research, and will have much better success in pinpointing our future contacts._ _It is too bad we could not meet in person, but it is impossible to transfer living things through time. Rest assured that your name will go down in history books as one of our most valuable contacts._ _The Transfer Field will be shut off as soon as you receive this note. Naturally, a reversal of transfer will occur._ _With our warmest wishes, Rolath Guelph._ Brady looked up at Peter with what could well be called a jaundiced eye. He said. "Did you think this would get you off the hook? How stupid do you think we are? Phony bills, a phony story, phony letter--Merton, you're just plain phony, all the way through. Come on along; it's back to the hoosegow for you. And this time, try--" It is difficult to say what Brady might have suggested that Peter try, for he never finished the sentence. He was interrupted by a sudden roar of sound that reminded him of a broken steam pipe. Suddenly, the air was filled with books, magazines, papers, clothing, shoes, ash trays, cigarettes, pencils, pens, candy, sandwiches, and a thousand and one other things, all spewing from the safe like water out of a fire hose. [Illustration: Irene gasped as her dress was snatched back into the other world.] Amid the confusion Peter saw Irene running for the door, clad only in the sheerest of bra and panties. "Where is Brady?" shouted Brown. "Why did that girl run off? What happened?" "I'm not sure what happened," Peter said, "but Irene had a perfectly good reason for running off. And as for Brady--" He pointed toward the tremendous heap of stuff on the floor. One hand was groping feebly from its center. Irene sipped at her coffee, while Peter, sitting across the cafe table, explained to her.