"Oh, but you're wrong. He doesn't want to harm me specifically. He merely wants to stop me from completing my invention. When he discovered I was going to hire you to protect me he decided to kill you as a warning to me. He tried three times and missed three times so I know you're pretty resourceful, Mr. Foley. I'd feel that my invention and I are safe in your hands." "First you say my family's trying to kill me, then you say your four times grandson. Well, which is it?" "Both. That is, my relative employs mental suggestion on your relatives, using them as agents. They have no reason to kill you, do they?" "No," I admitted. "There. Then obviously it must be my--umm, four times grandson, as you say. Will you take the job?" "I don't know yet," I said. "I'll admit it, jack. I don't know if you're crazy or I'm crazy." "Why does either one of us have to be crazy? Can't you simply protect me and my invention and--" "What kind of invention is it?" I asked. "I thought you would get around to that." "Well, what is it?" "I had wanted to wait until it was finished so I could show you. One doesn't simply talk about an invention like mine and expect to be believed." When I'm puzzled I become arrogant. I guess you call it bluster and often it can see you through pretty rough spots. So despite the offer of a hundred dollars a week plus expenses I said, "Either you tell me all about it, or we forget you ever came here. Understand?" "I suppose so," he admitted. "Very well, then--" "Just a minute. You haven't even told me your name." "It's Haney. Angus W. Haney, Mr. Foley." "Now what about the invention?" "It's almost finished," Angus W. Haney said. "At the moment I can't prove to you that it works. Unless you believe my great great great great grandson really is what I say he is." "Whoever heard of a--" "That is crucial, Mr. Foley. Because if you believe he is what I say he is, then you know my invention will be a success. You see, what I am in the process of inventing is a time machine." * * * * * That was enough for one day and I guess Angus W. Haney knew it was enough. He gave me his card and told me to call him and I said that I would. After he had left, I got out the office bottle--which that winter was bourbon--and poured myself a good hard slug which went down smoothly. It's a hoax, I kept telling myself. It has to be a hoax. But was it? I guess I wasn't entirely convinced, because Angus Haney had said that his four times grandson was using my Sue and Sammy--via mental suggestion--to kill me. And that being the case, I decided against going home that night. What the hell, a guy couldn't take chances, not in my business. You learned to be careful or else you left the business in a hurry or they carried you out. So, I'd wait and see.