he
Laboratories?"

I thought about it, and he continued, "Furthermore, as I understand it,
the Lafe Rude people have a good reputation."

That was right, too, and I saw what he was driving at. People of good
reputation don't try to pull a fast one by immediately alerting the
lawyers for the other side. In fact, when I stopped to think about it, I
could see that they were bending over backwards to be careful in this
situation.

Mr. Spardleton said, as he handed back the letter, "I suggest you clear
with Dr. Marchare, and then make arrangements to talk to these people
and see if you can negotiate some kind of profitable license. Marchare
is pretty fully committed right now, and I don't think he has time to
exploit this paper, even if it turns out to amount to something."

I looked at him, aghast that he should still be doubtful of the paper at
this late stage of the game. He saw my look and said, "Oops, I mean this
milestone in paper technology once it is announced to the world."

That seemed better, more to the point. I called Dr. Marchare and found
that Mr. Spardleton was right, as usual. Dr. Marchare would welcome a
beneficial licensing arrangement. I then called the Rude Associates on
the phone; it seemed more expeditious than writing. I set up a meeting
date as soon as possible, one week away.

* * * * *

The day before I left for Boston I checked in with Callahan to make
certain all of our data were correct. We went over every aspect of the
Tearproof Paper Case. I picked out a dozen good samples of the paper of
varying composition and thickness and put them in my briefcase along
with a copy of the patent application. I had decided that I might even
show them a copy of the application if it might help show what a
marvelous discovery we had made. Callahan and I shook hands solemnly,
and he wished me the best of luck. I went back to my office for a final
quick check, got interested in Zabell's book, and went home without my
briefcase. There was no harm done. My plane did not leave until ten in
the morning and I had planned to go back to the office anyway. I said
good-by to Susan and Mr. Spardleton, retrieved my briefcase from over by
the radiator where Susan had put it the night before, and caught the
plane.

It was a cold damp day, and the threat of rain was in the air. In Boston
I caught a cab for the Massachusetts Avenue laboratories of Rude
Associates. Dr. Rude himself was a