He saw Clurg go into the neighborhood movie for the matinee. That gave him about three hours.
Walter hurried to the Curran bungalow, remembered to slow down and tried hard to look casual as he unlocked the door and went in. There wouldn’t be any trouble—he was a good citizen, known and respected—he could let himself into a tenant’s house and wait for him to talk about business if he wanted to.
He tried not to think of what people would think if he should be caught rifling Clurg’s luggage, as he intended to do. He had brought along an assortment of luggage keys. Surprised by his own ingenuity, he had got them at a locksmith’s by saying his own key was lost and he didn’t want to haul a heavy packed bag downtown.
But he didn’t need the keys. In the bedroom closet the two suitcases stood, unlocked.
There was nothing in the first except uniformly new clothes, bought locally at good shops. The second was full of the same. Going through a rather extreme sports jacket, Walter found a wad of paper in the breast pocket. It was a newspaper page. A number had been penciled on a margin; apparently the sheet had been torn out and stuck into the pocket and forgotten. The dateline on the paper was July 18th, 2403.
Walter had some trouble reading the stories at first, but found it was easy enough if he read them aloud and listened to his voice.
One said:
TAIM KOP NABD: PROSKYOOTR ASKS DETH
Patrolm’n Oskr Garth V thi Taim Polis w’z arest’d toodei at biz horn, 4365 9863th Suit, and bookd at 9768th Prisint on
M. „ —— _.
tchardg’z *v Polis-Ekspozh’r. Thi aledjd Ekspozh’r okurM hwafle Garth w’z on dooti in thi Twenti-Furst Sentch’ri. It konsist’d “v hiz admish’n too a sit’zen ‘v thi Twenti-Furst Sentch’ri that thi Taim Polis ekzisted and woz op’rated fr”m thi Twenti-Fifth Sentch’ri. Thi Proskypot’rz Ofis sed thi deth pen’lti wil be askt ifl vyoo ‘v thi heinus neitch’r ‘v thi ofens, hwitch thret’nz thi hwol fabrik ‘v Twenti-Fifth-Sentch’ri eksiz-tens.
There was an advertisement on the other side:
BOIZ”ND YUNG MEN!
SERV EUR SENTCH’RI!
ENLIST IN THI TAIM POLIS RKURV NOW!
RIMEMB’R—
•V THI AJEZ! ONLY IN THI TAIM POLIS KAN EU PROTEKT EUR SIVILIZASH*N FR’M VARFNS! THEIR IZ NO HAIER SERVIS TOO AR KULTCH’R! THEIR IZ NO K’REER SO FAS*NATING AZ A K’REER IN THI TAIM POLIS!
Underneath it another ad asked:
HWAI BI ASHEEMPD “V EUR TCHAIRZ? GET ROL-
FASTS! No uth’r tcheir haz thi immidjit respons “v a Rolfast Sit
enihweir—eor Rolfast iz theirl
Eur Rolfast mefl partz ar solid gold to avoid tairsum polishing. Eur Rolfast beirings are thi fain’st six-intch dupliks di’mondz for long wair.
Walter’s heart pounded. Gold—to avoid tiresome polishing! Six-inch diamonds—for long wear!
And Clurg must be a time policeman. “Only in the time police can you see the pageant of the ages!” What did a time policeman do? He wasn’t quite dear about that But what they didn’t do was let anybody else—anybody earlier— know that the Time Police existed. He, Walter Lachlan of the Twentieth Century, held in the palm of his hand Time Policeman Clurg of the Twenty-Fifth Century—the Twenty-Fifth Century where gold and diamonds were common as steel and glass in this!
He was there when Clurg came back from the matinee. Mutely, Walter extended the page of newsprint Clurg
snatched it incredulously, stared at it and crumpled it in his fist. He collapsed on the floor with a groan. “I’m done for!” Walter heard him say.
“Listen, Clurg,” Walter said. “Nobody ever needs to know about this—nobody.”
Clurg looked up with sudden hope in his eyes. “You win keep silent?” he asked wildly. “It is my life!”
“What’s it worth to you?” Walter demanded with brutal directness. “I can use some of those diamonds and some of that gold. Can you get it into this century?”
“It would be missed. It would be over my mass-balance,” Qurg said. “But I have a Duplix. I can copy diamonds and gold for you; that was how I made my feoff money.”
He snatched an instrument from his pocket—a fountain pen, Walter thought “It is low in charge. It would Duplix about five kilograms in one operation—”