Henry found a big cigar in one of his pockets and held it out to Taine.

“No, thanks. I never smoke.”

“Perhaps you’re wise,” said Henry. “It’s a nasty habit.”

He stuck the cigar into his mouth and rolled it east to west.

“Each man to his own,” he proclaimed, expansively. “When it comes to a thing like this, you’re the man to do it. You seem to think in mechanical contraptions and electronic circuits. Me, I don’t know a thing about it. Even in the computer game, I still don’t know a thing about it; I hire men who do. I can’t even saw a board or drive a nail. But I can organize. You remember, Hiram, how everybody snickered when I started up the plant?”

“Well, I guess some of them did, at that.”

“You’re darn tooting they did. They went around for weeks with their hands up to their faces to hide smart-aleck grins. They said, what does Henry think he’s doing, starting up a computer factory out here in the sticks; he doesn’t think he can compete with those big companies in the east, does he? And they didn’t stop their grinning until I sold a couple of dozen units and had orders for a year or two ahead.”

He fished a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigar carefully, never taking his eyes off the television set.

“You got something there,” he said, judiciously, “that may be worth a mint of money. Some simple adaptation that will fit on any set. If you can get color on this old wreck, you can get color on any set that’s made.”

He chuckled raoistly around the mouthful of cigar. “If RCA knew what was happening here this minute, they’d go out and cut their throats.”

“But I don’t know what I did,” protested Taine.

“Well, that’s all right,” said Henry, happily. “I’ll take this set up to the plant tomorrow and turn loose some of the boys on it. They’ll find out what you have here before they’re through with it.”