Identity
"Don't be an idiot!" snarled the first man, slapping Cal across the face with the back of his hand. Cal went white.

"Better kill me," he said coldly, "or I'll see your identity taken!"

"Cut it, Jake. Look, wiseacre, where did you get it?"

"The Key? It came in the mail."

"Mail hell! That was mailed ten years ago!"

"It got here six weeks ago."

"Musta got lost, Logy," offered Jake. "After all, Gadget's been gone about that long."

"That's so. Those things do happen. Poor Gadg. An' we cooled him for playing smart."

"We wuz wrong."

"Yep. So we was. Too bad. But Gadget wasn't too bright—not like this egg. He's made it work."

"Logy, you're a genius."

"So we chilled Gadget because we thought he was playin' smart by tryin' to swipe the pitch. He didn't lam wit' the Key at all."

"How about this one?" asked Logy.

"He ain't going to yodel. Better grab him and that pile of gewgaws. The rest of the lads'll be here too soon."

"Rest?"

"Sure. The whole universe is filled wit' detectors ever since Ellswort' made the first one."

"Git up, dope," snapped Jake, motioning to the door with his beam.

Blair walked to the door with rubber joints in his knees. Logy lifted the equipment from the table and followed Jake. "He ain't made no notebook," complained Jake.

"He had some plans," said Logy, "but the fool set the stuff on 'em and they're all chewed up. He can make 'em over."

"O.K. Git goin', Loke."


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