Slim went on the stand. He demonstrated the Brain-Finder very feebly—that is, innocuously. It was obvious that Youngquist was scared to death of what might happen.
And again Tom Ellingbery’s lawyers passed up cross examination of Slim. I knew they were waiting for me.
They were. “Do you understand this machine?” one asked me scornfully.
“No, sir.”
“You know how to work it, don’t you?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“Do you mean to tell this court that you can adjust the dials and gadgets on this thing and see what I was doing last week or the week before?”
I tried to be cautious. “If it’s plugged in.”
“Okay, we’ll plug it in.”
He invited me to step down and turn on the switches. I looked at Slim. He nodded. After all, there was nothing else to do. I went.
Some of the tubes crackled and then
