wingding."

* * * * *

"Well," the old boy pursued, into his subject now, "that's where they'd
be, places like the _Oktoberfest_. For one thing, a time traveler
wouldn't be conspicuous. At a festival like this somebody with a strange
accent, or who didn't know exactly how to wear his clothes correctly, or
was off the ordinary in any of a dozen other ways, wouldn't be noticed.
You could be a four-armed space traveler from Mars, and you still
wouldn't be conspicuous at the _Oktoberfest_. People would figure they
had D.T.'s."

"But why would a time traveler want to go to a--" Betty began.

"Why not! What better opportunity to study a people than when they are
in their cups? If _you_ could go back a few thousand years, the things
you would wish to see would be a Roman Triumph, perhaps the Rites of
Dionysus, or one of Alexander's orgies. You wouldn't want to wander up
and down the streets of, say, Athens while nothing was going on,
particularly when you might be revealed as a suspicious character not
being able to speak the language, not knowing how to wear the clothes
and not familiar with the city's layout." He took a deep breath. "No
ma'am, you'd have to stick to some great event, both for the sake of
actual interest and for protection against being unmasked."

The old boy wound it up. "Well, that's the story. What are your rates?
The _Oktoberfest_ starts on Friday and continues for sixteen days. You
can take the plane to Munich, spend a week there and--"

Simon was shaking his head. "Not interested."

As soon as Betty had got her jaw back into place, she glared
unbelievingly at him.

Mr. Oyster was taken aback himself. "See here, young man, I realize this
isn't an ordinary assignment, however, as I said, I am willing to risk a
considerable portion of my fortune--"

"Sorry," Simon said. "Can't be done."

"A hundred dollars a day plus expenses," Mr. Oyster said quietly. "I
like the fact that you already seem to have some interest and knowledge
of the matter. I liked the way you knew my name when I walked in the
door; my picture doesn't appear often in the papers."

"No go," Simon said, a sad quality in his voice.

"A fifty thousand dollar bonus if you bring me a time traveler."

"Out of the question," Simon said.

"But _why_?" Betty wailed.

"Just for laughs," Simon told the two of them sourly, "suppose I tell
you a funny story. It goes like this:"

* * * *