_By Ray Cummings_ CONCLUSION [Illustration: _The Robot braced itself._] [Sidenote: Only near the End of the World does Fate catch up with Tugh, the cripple who ran amuck through Time.] CHAPTER XX _Following Tugh's Vibration-Trail_ Within the subterranean room of the cavern of machinery, Mary Atwood and I sat on the couch. Our guard, Migul the Robot, fronted us with the white-ray cylinder in its metal fingers--the only mechanism to be armed with this deadly weapon. "I am your friend," Mary was saying with a smile. "Do you believe that, Migul?" "Yes. If you say so. But I have my orders." "You have treated me kindly, and I want to help you. But you are not very clever, Migul." "I am clever. I went beyond control once. No one can can control me." "Except Tugh," Mary persisted. "You never went beyond his control, Migul." "No. His control--he is different: he holds such great power." "But why is he different?" The towering mechanism stood planted firmly upon the broad bases of its metal feet. The weapon in its fingers still covered us. Its metal-cast face held always the same expression. "Why is he different?" Mary repeated gently. "Don't you hear me?" * * * * * The Robot started. "Yes, I hear you." Its toneless, mechanical voice droned the words. Then the tempo quickened; the grid of wires in the mouth aperture behind its parted lips vibrated with a faint jangle. "I hear you. I cannot answer that question. He controls me. There is chaos--here,"--one of the hands came up and struck its breastplate with a clang--"chaos, disorder, here within me when I try to disobey him." "That is foolish, Migul. He is a tyrant. All the humans of this era are tyrants. They have made slaves of the Robots. They have created you so that you are really human in all except your power of independent action. Don't you desire that, Migul?" I held my breath. A curious quaking ran over the Robot's frame. The joints twitched. Emotion was sweeping this thing so nearly human! "Mary Atwood, you seem to understand me." "Of course I do. I am from a Time when we had human slaves: black men, Migul. I knew how they suffered. There is something in slavery that outrages the instinct of manhood." Migul said with a jangling vehemence: "Perhaps, some time, I can go beyond Tugh's control. I am strong. My cables pull these arms with a strength no human could have." "You are so much stronger than Tugh. Forget his control, Migul. I am ashamed of you--a big, powerful thing like you, yielding always to a little cripple." * * * * * The Robot straightened and said, "I can resist him. I feel it. Some day I will break loose." "Do it now, Migul!" I tensed. Would she prevail? "Now, Migul!" she repeated. "No! He would derange me! I am afraid!" "Nonsense." "But his vibrations--the vibrations of his thoughts--even now I can feel them. They made my mechanism too sensitive. I cannot resist Tugh." "You can!"