In fact, that was what they seemed to have done. They were in the chair-lined corridor. As Snader turned them around and seated them, they faced another moving picture screen. It seemed to rush through a dark tunnel toward a lighted square in the far distance. The square grew on the screen. Soon they saw it was another room like the waiting room they had left, except that the number hanging from the ceiling was 702. They seemed to glide through it. Then they were in the dark tunnel again. Ann was clutching Jeff's arm. He patted her hand. "Fun, hey? Like Alice through the looking-glass." "You really think we're going back in time?" she whispered. "Hardly! But we're seeing a million-dollar trick. I can't even begin to figure it out yet." Another lighted room grew out of the tunnel on the screen, and when they had flickered through it, another and then another. "Mr. Snader," Ann said unsteadily, "how long--how many years back are you taking us?" Snader was humming to himself. "Six years. Station 725 fine place to stop." For a little while, Jeff let himself think it might be true. "Six years ago, your dad was alive," he mused to Ann. "If this should somehow be real, we could see him again." "We could if we went to our house. He lived with us then, remember? Would we see ourselves, six years younger? Or would--" Snader took Jeff's arm and pulled him to his feet. The screen was moving through a room numbered 724. "Soon now," Snader grunted happily. "Then no more questions." He took an arm of each as he had before. When the screen was filled by a room with the number 725, he propelled them forward into it. Again there was no sense of motion. They had simply stepped through a bright wall they could not feel. They found themselves in a replica of the room they had left at 701. On the wall, a picture of the continuous club-car corridor rolled toward them in a silent, endless stream. "The same room," Ann said in disappointment. "They just changed the number. We haven't been anywhere." * * * * * Snader was fishing under his shirt for the key. He gave Ann a glance that was almost a leer. Then he carefully unlocked the door. In the hall, a motherly old lady bustled up, but Snader brushed past her. "Official," he said, showing her the key. "No lodging." He unlocked the front door without another word and carefully shut it behind them as Jeff and Ann followed him out of the house. "Hey, where's my car?" Jeff demanded, looking up and down the street. The whole street looked different. Where he had parked his roadster, there was now a long black limousine. "Your car is in future," Snader said briskly. "Where it belong. Get in." He opened the door of the limousine. Jeff felt a little flame of excitement licking inside him. Something was happening, he felt. Something exciting and dangerous. "Snader," he said, "if you're kidnaping us, you made a mistake. Nobody on Earth will pay ransom for us."