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Good day, sir!" Philon's mouth fell open. "But but the MacDonalds have had it for...." He caught himself, and stammered, "There must be some mistake because I...." Norton said firmly, "I bid you good day, sir!" With a sense of the sky falling in on him, Philon found himself out on the street. No one could be trusted nowadays and he shouldn't have been surprised at the MacDonalds.
"I came to tell you I'm unable to raise my fifty grand quota, Rakoff." The man's brows moved slightly and his eyes narrowed significantly. With a rasp in his voice he said deliberately, "That's too bad, Mr. Miller for you." The rasping tongue put a faint quaver in Philon's voice but he went on. "However, I've brought you an idea that's worth more than fifty grand. It's worth millions."
At the windows they got something called venetian blinds instead of our variable mirror thermopanes. And you know what? They don't even have an FP connection. They prepare all their meals in the house!" John's excitement finally aroused Philon's attention. "No Food Preparation service? But that's unheard of!" "They're sure swell people though." "Where in the world did they come from?"
Everyone had a little sideline, a gimmick, to put one over on whoever was gullible enough to swallow it. Why should he assume a hillbilly family from way out in Oregon was any different? This was probably Bill MacDonald's little racket and it was just Philon's bad luck to stumble on it.
Give me the hundred grand or I'll kill you with my bare hands!" Philon watched him coming as if he were witness to a nightmare. He was trapped. And in this moment of snowballing fear he ceased to think. The gun in his pocket went off without conscious effort. Brant stopped, then collapsed to the floor. Panic took over Philon's mind and he fled the apartment building as rapidly as was safe.
The teacher was talking about the history of atomic energy and when I told her we had one of the first editions of the famous Smyth report on Atomic Energy she was surprised." "A first edition of the Smyth Report? No wonder your teacher was surprised." Through Philon's mind ran the recollection that first editions of the Smyth Report brought as high as seventy thousand dollars.
Philon patted his right chest saying, "Got a hundred thousand here for you, Al." Brant's brows lifted in amazement. "A hundred thousand! What's the catch, Phil?" Philon's voice dropped to a confidential tone. "You always were a clever man with electronics, Al, and I've got something here that's just your meat.
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