The luncheon was typically Apfahlian fare--rough, tasteless, but nourishing. Hale ate it stolidly, neither liking nor disliking it; he was merely indifferent to it. Dr. Mier on the other hand, complained that it wasn't properly cooked and still managed to put away enough for three men. "Tell me, Doctor," said Hale, when he found a lull between courses, "have you considered the idea that someone might steal such a valuable object?" Mier finished chewing a bite, swallowed it, and shook his head. "There is not much chance of that, Dr. Dale. In the first place, it is locked within the capsule. Oh, I'll admit that the entire capsule could be stolen; it is big, but not so big that it couldn't be taken by someone with the proper equipment. "However, that kind of equipment isn't available to the average man here on Apfahl. And besides, it is thoroughly guarded. After we dug it up from the basement, our government provided the Museum with a full battalion of armed troops to surround the building day and night. No unauthorized person can get in, and they certainly couldn't get the time capsule out." "Wouldn't it be possible to break into the capsule?" Dr. Mier chuckled deeply. "You have not seen this capsule. Oh, I'll grant that it might be broken into, but doing so would involve so much damage that the contents would be ruined, rendering the attempt useless. No, Dr. Dale; no one will steal our little treasure." He chuckled again, and, as the next course was brought on, he began shoveling it in. The silence was unbroken save for the sounds of eating. After a few moments, Leland Hale glanced casually at his watch and compared it with the big mechanical clock on the wall of the hotel cafe. He hoped his timing was correct. It was. Seven minutes later, a man wearing the uniform of a Museum guard scuttled into the room as though he were being followed by a fleet of hornets. He stopped near the door, glanced rapidly over all the diners, located Dr. Mier, and made his way hurriedly toward the table. "Dr. Mier! Dr. Mier!" His rasping voice was about as secretive as a stage whisper. The other diners swiveled their heads to look. Mier, startled, glanced up at the messenger. "Yes, Mooler? Speak up, man; what is it?" The uniformed man put a single sheet of paper on the table. "This just came over the teletype wire from our correspondent in Sudapfahl, sir! Read it!" Dr. Mier read, and, as he did so, his eyes widened. "Good Heavens!" he said at last, "This is terrible!" "What?" asked Leland Hale, in all innocence. "This!" Mier shoved the teletype sheet across the table.