"I necessarily, therefore, concentrated my attention on the last section--the only part written in English. I was immediately struck by a curious fact I had ignored before. The writer made references to an Enemy, a mysterious 'they,' against which defensive measures had to be taken." "Maybe that's where you got the idea," I said. "When you first read the book--" "The writer of the log," Foster said, "was dogged by the same nemesis that now follows me." "It doesn't make any sense," I said. "For the moment," Foster said, "stop looking for logic in the situation. Look for a pattern instead." "There's a pattern, all right," I said. "The next thing that struck me," Foster went on, "was a reference to a loss of memory--a second point of some familiarity to me. The writer expresses frustration at the inability to remember certain facts which would have been useful to him in his pursuit." "What kind of pursuit?" "Some sort of scientific project, as nearly as I can gather. The journal bristles with tantalizing references to matters that are never explained." "And you think the man that wrote it had amnesia?" "Not actually amnesia, perhaps," Foster said. "But there were things he was unable to remember." "If that's amnesia, we've all got it," I said. "Nobody's got a perfect memory." "But these were matters of importance; not the kind of thing that simply slip one's mind." "I can see how you'd want to believe the book had something to do with your past, Mr. Foster," I said. "It must be a hard thing, not knowing your own life story. But you're on the wrong track. Maybe the book is a story you started to write--in code, so nobody would accidentally read the stuff and kid you about it." "Legion, what was it you planned to do when you got to Miami?" The question caught me a little off-guard. "Well, I don't know," I hedged. "I wanted to get south, where it's warm. I used to know a few people--" "In other words, nothing," Foster said. "Legion, I'll pay you well to stay with me and see this thing through." I shook my head. "Not me, Mr. Foster. The whole thing sounds--well, the kindest word I can think of is 'nutty'." "Legion," Foster said, "do you really believe I'm insane?" "Let's just say this all seems a little screwy to me, Mr. Foster." "I'm not asking you just to work for me," Foster said. "I'm asking for your help." "You might as well look for your fortune in tea leaves," I said, irritated. "There's nothing in what you've told me." * * * * * "There's more, Legion. Much more. I've recently made an important discovery. When I know you're with me, I'll tell you. You know enough now to accept the fact that this isn't entirely a figment of my imagination." "I don't know anything," I said. "So far it's all talk." "If you're concerned about payment--"