The recorder chattered: "I am sure the other is also somewhere in the bed. It is harmless by itself, and I am glad we have it--it will help me instruct a team of British physicists and engineers. But who is in the other compartment? I hate to play chess with the same people over and over." "I'm afraid he doesn't play," said Brooks. "I think it's old Boney, who had his throat cut because your friends thought he might get you some help too soon." The recorder punched out, "I would like to meet him," as Miss Knox jumped from the bed, pulling Dr. Brooks by the arm. The machine chattered again briefly and she stopped and read, "Do not neglect me altogether," and ran on. She opened the door to the other bed compartment. Miss Erwin fell on her with a cuddly embrace, and then Dr. Brooks reached over her shoulder to shake Miss Erwin's hand. "How's the patient?" he asked. Across the compartment, Boney's face expanded in a three-cornered smile. "At least he slept," said Miss Erwin. "That poor Mr. Barger--all the time we thought he was in coma, he was wide awake!" Miss Knox said, "Oh, my God!" * * * * * "I hear more jets!" wailed Miss Erwin's voice from the other room. "Why are they all flying home tonight, and we have to leave? Carl, are we--are we a quarter of the way to England?" "No," Big Carl answered. Miss Knox called through the doorway, "This one won't let me open the hatch!" Hunched across the bed, his hair falling over his forehead, Dr. Brooks played chess with Mr. Barger. "Not in here," he said. "You can open the emergency hatch in back if you like night air. But don't expect to see the bombers--or anything but our own landing gear." She slid past him and shut herself into the small rear compartment and turned out the light. She felt for the emergency lock and swung her weight backward as the damp black air screamed in and tugged at her face--the whirlybird showed its fat thigh with a _rackety-rackety-rack groundhog_! Tears ran down her cheeks, distorting her first view of darkness. Beyond the machine's ungainly silhouette she peered and saw flashes of yellow light on water--but nothing, nothing familiar. Thus, squinting desperately toward home, she noticed it, marking the horizon. A glowing mushroom. It must have been gigantic. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Don't Look Now, by Leonard Rubin