a magnet—” He stopped. Where would you find a magnet aboard a plane? And the damned things were probably anti-magnetic anyway. Trust the Swiss.

“How are you carrying them?” she asked.

Colby was dressed in a shapeless old tweed suit and lightweight green sweater. Under his shirt was a vestlike garment made up of three hundred individual pockets. He told her.

“They’re just movements?” she asked.

“Of course.” Nobody ever smuggled watches in cases.

“Then just go into the loo, take off the vest thing, and dunk it in the washbasin.”

“It’s not that simple. Each one’s sealed in a little plastic bag.”

“Oh.” She looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure water would do it, anyway. They might start again. . . . Something viscous— I’ve got it!” The blue eyes lighted up, and she pushed the button for the stewardess.

“What?” Colby asked.

“A liqueur of some kind. Cointreau—crème de menthe—”

“Hey, sure!”

The stewardess came. It was the tall dark one. Just as she leaned in over Colby, holding onto the seat in front, there was a faint ding . . . ding . . . from inside his sweater. He jerked his left arm in across his chest, shook the wrist, and looked at the watch with annoyance.

The stewardess held out an empty airsickness bag, automatically searching the floor for the other one. Colby waved off the bag. “Do you have any Cointreau?”

“Cointreau?” It was obvious she thought he was crazy.

“You do sell liquor on these flights, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. . . . But with this turbulence, naturally we couldn’t bring the cart through. And we don’t have any Cointreau, anyway.”

“Then crème de menthe?”

“Y-e-e-s, I think so. But I’m afraid only the white—”

He was conscious again of time hurtling past him, but managed a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. I only drink in the dark.”

She went away and came back in a minute with the bottle. He paid her. She departed, holding onto the seats.

“After you get stripped down to that vest,” the girl whispered, “unlock the door. I’ll come in and help you.”

“You might get caught.”

“I’ll pick a time when they’re not looking. Don’t argue, you’ll never get them done alone.”

“Right. And thanks a lot.”

“Hurry.”

He unsnapped his belt and stowed the bottle in a pocket of his jacket. Both stewardesses were busy forward. The washroom was three rows back, on the starboard side. He made it, having to stop and hang onto the seats only once.

It was the usual small compartment, not much more than four feet square, with the chemical toilet in one corner and a small washbasin and mirror on the forward wall. He bolted the door, set the bottle in the basin, and began hurriedly throwing off his upper clothing, hanging the tweed jacket, sweater, shirt, and tie on the hook on the back of the door. For a moment, miraculously, the plane was steady. Just as he was down to the vest at last, one of the buzzer alarms went off with a raucous vitality that sent a shiver up his back. They were putting on muscle by the minute.

He stabbed at one of the pockets at random, and saw it was going to be impossible to get the watches out while still wearing the vest; the fabric was too tight, and the tiny slits too narrow to put his fingers into. He unzipped it and set it beside the basin, nude to the waist now. Just as he picked up the bottle of crème de menthe to unscrew the cap, he remembered the door. He unbolted it. Almost at the same instant, it swung open, and the girl slipped inside. She closed and locked it. Colby tossed the bottle aside.

“Just pour it in the basin,” she said, “and we’ll dip them in it—oops—!”

The plane lurched sidewise. They wound up in the corner beside the door. She was behind him, one arm around his waist and her chin propped on his shoulder. Colby still held onto the bottle, outthrust and aloft but upright.

“Cozy, isn’t it?” she asked.

The plane lurched again, to the left this time, and they shot off the door toward the opposite wall. Colby put out a hand and stopped them before they slammed into it. They managed to untangle themselves. The plane steadied. He closed the washbasin drain and upended the bottle over it. It gurgled. She had already reached for the vest, and was sliding watch movements from the bottom row of pockets.

He stowed the empty bottle in the used-towel disposal. She had two of the watch movements out