“Our Odessa office will take care of it.”

“A letter to them takes months.”

He rocked the bed so hard it banged the wall. “You let me know that you are willing to cooperate with us, and I will contact our office by telegraph.”

“What’s that?”

“A new invention. A person sends a message in one country, and another office in another country receives it without a piece of paper ever being mailed.”

She turned her back to him in anger. “You think that I’m just a stupid polaca that you can tell me such ridiculous tales?”

“You don’t have to believe me. Go see with your own eyes in the central post office. They send signals instead of words.” He made some clicking sounds. “Once they reach across the Atlantic, the signals get translated back into words.”

“So what will I see in the post office, an empty air into which people click their tongues?”

He shrugged. “Actually, there are lots of wires.”

“Wires going over the ocean from here to Odessa? I don’t believe it.”

“Look, I don’t exactly know how it works, but it does.”

“So if I want to speak with God, I click into this apparatus?”

He laughed. “Only if God has the matching apparatus to catch your transmission.”

“He’s God. He’s invented your apparatus. Of course He’d have one.”

Her cooperation with Señor Rosenberg would bring about the use of this miraculous apparatus. Her resistance melting, Batya turned toward Señor Rosenberg again, then traced his sideburn, admiring its neat edges. She trailed her hand down to his chest.

He removed her hand gently.

“Don’t you like me? Don’t I look pretty to you?” she asked.

“You are beautiful, and I like you very much. But I will not take advantage of you.”

Batya hadn’t heard of a healthy man who didn’t possess a robust appetite. No sister would have believed it.

“I have something to show you,” she said, and immediately regretted it. She would reward Señor Rosenberg’s kindness by handing him garbage. Blushing, she reached into the mattress and pulled out the roll of papers. “Sorry. It’s really nothing. Don’t be insulted that I thought you might be interested—”

He sat up, took the papers, and unrolled them. His eyes opened wide. “Where did you get these?”

Her blush deepened. “I’m sorry, it’s only junk.”

“No, it’s not.” He flipped through the pages. The carbon paper rustled as he held it up against the light from the window. “How did you get them?”

“From Moskowitz’s wastebasket.”

“Do you know what these are?” His dark eyes sparkled. “If you could read, you’d understand that these papers are very important.”

She bit her lip.