I pricked up my ears. The period from 1492 to the Revolution is my
special field of American history, and I knew, at once, the enormous
difference that would have made. It was a moment later that I realized
how oddly the colonel had expressed the idea, and by that time the plump
man was speaking.

"Yes, that would work," he agreed. "Those kings made decisions, most of
the time, on whether or not they had a hangover, or what some court
favorite thought." He got out a notebook and pen and scribbled briefly.
"I'll hand that to the planning staff when I get to New York. That's
Henry the Seventh, not Henry the Eighth? Right. We'll fix it so that
Columbus will catch him when he's in a good humor."

That was too much. I turned to the man beside me.

"What goes on?" I asked. "Has somebody invented a time machine?"

He looked up from the drink he was contemplating and gave me a grin.

"Sounds like it, doesn't it? Why, no; our friend here is getting up a
television program. Tell the gentleman about it," he urged the plump man
across the aisle.

The waiter arrived at that moment. The plump man, who seemed to need
little urging, waited until I had ordered a drink and then began telling
me what a positively sensational idea it was.

"We're calling it _Crossroads of Destiny_," he said. "It'll be a series,
one half-hour show a week; in each episode, we'll take some historic