"To tell the truth, ma'am, you aren't so--" "Well, sit down. Don't go away. I'll just go into the next room--slip into something comfortable--" "Miss Tompkins!" I grabbed hold of her. She felt real. I hoped she was. "I want nothing from you. Nothing! I only want to do something for you, anything for you. I've got to help you, can't you understand? I KILLED YOUR FATHER." I hadn't meant to tell her that, of course. She screamed and began twisting and clawing the way I knew she would as soon as I said it. But she stopped, stunned, as if I'd slapped her out of hysterics, only I'd never let go of her shoulders. She hung then, her face empty, repeating, "What? _What?_" Finally she began laughing and she pulled away from me so gently and naturally that I had to let go. She sank down and sat on top of my money on the little bookcase. She laughed some more into her two open hands. I stood there, not knowing what to do with myself. She looked up at me and brushed away a few tears with her fingertips. "_You_ want to get _me_ off of your conscience, do you, William Hagle? God, that's a good one." She reached out and took my hand in hers. "Come along down into the basement, William. I want to show you something. Afterward, if you want to--if you really want to--you may kill me." "Thanks," I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say. * * * * * Down in the basement, the machinery looked complex, with all sorts of thermostats and speedometers. "Automatic stoker?" I asked. "Time machine," she said. "You don't mean a time machine like H. G. Wells's," I said, to show her I wasn't ignorant. "Not exactly like that, but close," she answered sadly. "This has been the cause of all your trouble, William." "It has?" "Yes. This house and the ground around it are the Primary Focus area for the Hexers. The Hexers have tormented and persecuted you all your life. They got you into trouble. They made you think you were going crazy--" "I never thought I was going crazy!" I yelled at her. "That must have made it worse," she said miserably. I thought about it. "I suppose it did. What are the Hexers? What--for the sake of argument--have they got against me?" "The Hexers aren't human. I suppose they are extraterrestrials. No one ever told me. Maybe they are a kind of human strain that went different. I don't really know. They want different things than we do, but they can buy some of them with money, so they can be hired. People in the future hire them to hex people in the past." "Why would anybody up ahead there with Buck Rogers want to cause me trouble? I'm dead then, aren't I?"