Joe followed him in through a short foyer to a small, comfortable living room. Then, in the living room doorway, he stopped. He felt the breath go out of him in a long sigh, and an excited fluttering in his chest. Barbara Bowen stood across the room, beside the front window. She had heard the noises, had seen what happened. She was pale and frightened. And she was beautiful. Soft, dark hair framed a peach oval of a face with large gray eyes, short nose, and perfect lips. A soft blue housecoat draped over a smoothly curved, long-limbed figure. Bowen had crossed the room and settled into a comfortable chair, taking out his pipe and tobacco pouch. "Sit down, Mr. Linger," he offered, with a gesture to a nearby chair. "This is my daughter, Barbara." "Hello," Barbara said simply. Her voice was a soft, husky sound. Joe merely swallowed and nodded, then crossed hurriedly to the proffered chair. Barbara sat down on the couch. Then, haltingly at first, but with a constantly growing familiarity, Joe told them everything that had happened. He took the letter from Myytnor Skurle out of his pocket and showed it to them. For several minutes after he finished, Mr. Bowen sat smoking his pipe and staring into space. "Have you tried making money with it, Mr. Linger?" he asked, pensively. "No," Joe admitted. "There doesn't seem to be any need for me to have money." Bowen rose with sudden decision and crossed to a low writing desk. He got a piece of paper and, after some searching, a small magnifying glass. Then he returned and laid the paper on the small coffee table. "There," he said. "Change that into some five-dollar bills." Joe stared at the paper, frowning, then cradled the bright globe in his lap, and began typing. The usual effects followed. The paper changed into four five-dollar bills. Bowen picked them up and returned to the writing desk. He took out his wallet, extracted a five-dollar bill, and sat down. Carefully, he examined the robot's bills against his own. * * * * * Minutes dragged past. Joe licked his lips nervously, noticed that Barbara was doing the same thing, and they stared at each other. Then Barbara smiled, and he smiled, and-- "Mr. Linger," Bowen spoke sharply, "I want you to do something else--no, wait!" He rose and walked back to them. "Mr. Linger, let me try that robot thing!" Joe glanced at Barbara, then mutely handed the globe to Bowen. "Now," Bowen said, turning, "Barbara, get off the couch, will you?" "Yes, father!" Barbara rose hurriedly. "Um," said Mr. Bowen. He cradled the globe on his arm and pecked at the keyboard. There was the swirling blue glow, the faint click--and a loud _crack_ that rattled the windows. The air swirled about the room, reeking with ozone-- And where the couch had been was now an ugly, anti-tank cannon, squatting heavily on its rubber tires. "Holy cow!" Joe exclaimed, jumping to his feet.