"Oh, the frogs. Yes, they would come through first, of course. Something about making sure the co-ordination is right. A messenger could go straight through at once, but that would be dangerous, and if the co-ordination were off, he'd be a sorry mess. Frogs or bugs or sometimes birds, we send anything through to make sure. Anyway, what do you want?" "Now that you mention it, I don't know. I guess we don't want anything. We were just experimenting," Myra explained. "Experimenting? Will you stop kidding? With a call as strong as that, experimenting? I wasn't born yesterday, sister. Look, don't be afraid of my wife. She doesn't know where I've gone and it will be some time before she can find me, so tell me the truth." "That's the truth. I knew we'd get something, but I didn't know what. We got you. My husband is very psychokinetic." The man shrugged. "He hardly looks it." "Oh, don't let George fool you. He's potent that way." "That's me," George said. "I'm a terrific catalyst. Ask Myra." "He is," Myra said. "Well, then I see it was all a mistake. Do you think he could get me back?" "Of course he could get you back. You said yourself this was the strongest call on record. Get him back, George." George smiled. He was beginning to like this. It all depended on him. The man with the enigmatic smile knew exactly what was going on, Myra knew to some extent what was going on, George knew almost nothing of it, but everything depended on him. "Why should I?" he demanded. "He only just came, and I'm not in any hurry to send him back." "Please," the man said, and for the first time the smile began to fade from the corners of his mouth. "It was all a mistake, and now I'd better get back home before my wife finds out." George felt cocky. "Well, it was your mistake, not mine, and I don't feel like sending you back yet. So I guess you'll stay right here." "You're not serious?" "Serious? You bet I'm serious. I don't even know where I'm supposed to send you, but I'm not going to. At least not for a while yet." "Now, look. You've got to send me back. I'm the king." "Send him back, George. You don't know what you're playing around with. Send him back." "No." "I'm the king." "Send him back, George." George got up and took a long drink of the bourbon. His stomach was still empty, except for the previous bourbon, and the drink sent a warm glow through him. "No," he said. * * * * * They sat there in the living room, the three of them. George on the sofa, Myra on a straight-backed chair, and Arl cross-legged in the middle of the floor. The king's name was Arl, he had told them that. And then afterwards, he was silent. He was sullen, and George smiled. He was in trouble and he did not know what to do and it all depended on George. "Listen, George," Arl was trying another angle. "Maybe if I tell you what this is all about, then will you send me back?"