Haverford got the details from a news broadcast. They had come in silvery ships, hundreds of them. Thousands. "You should have seen it," Bartirone told him, speaking in his accented English. "All over Buenos Aires, in midday--suddenly, the sky was blotted out. Ships. Silvery ships. They seemed small. They started to land." "Have you seen the invaders yourself?" "No. Not yet. They haven't come this far west in the city yet. But--" The Argentinan's voice stopped. Haverford listened numbly, knowing despite himself exactly what had happened. The invaders had come. He rose, looked around his room. He had enough food in the freezer and on the shelves to last for months. Haverford was a frugal man; by buying in quantity, he saved precious cash that was used for augmenting the radio set. He decided to hide in his home--to seal it from the outside world, to wait. Perhaps the invaders would be driven back; perhaps Earth would fall. But he would be safe. He would not be killed in the war of conquest. He made sure there was no way his room could be entered. Just as he was about to nail fast the bolt that held the door shut, he heard knocking. Three sharp knocks. Haverford leaped for the bolt, drove it home, hung tensely against the door. "Who is it?" he asked. "Mrs. Kelley," came the reply. He almost fainted from relief. He had expected the aliens--and it was only the landlady. Cautiously, he threw open the door. "Yes?" "Have you heard, Mr. Haverford? About the invasion, I mean?" "Yes, I've heard. What of it?" "I just thought I'd tell you," she said, shrugging. "I know you don't go out much or read the papers, and I thought maybe--" "I've heard over the radio," he told her stiffly. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" "No--not at all." "Very well, then. If anyone comes to see me, you can tell them I'm not looking for visitors." "Yes, Mr. Haverford." She disappeared into the darkness of the corridor. Haverford slammed the door, shot the bolt home, nailed it fast. So far as the outside world was concerned, he was as good as dead. He set to work sealing himself in. * * * * * Two days passed--two days in which gradually, one by one, his contacts here and there over the globe were silenced. Bentham had gone first, then Bartirone. His two Japanese friends were gone now too; the Orient was overrun by the invaders. South America as well. Word was coming from the States of alien advances. New York was in Lanthaii hands, and no broadcasts were being made from there. The United Nations delegates had fled to an unnamed city and were continuing to talk--to discuss the situation, no doubt, Haverford thought bitterly. But talk would do no good. Soon the entire world would be in alien hands, and there would be no stopping them. None at all.