But I still couldn't quite believe it. "But the census was taken last year," I said. "We have to recheck this area," he said smoothly. "We have reason to believe that the records are inaccurate." His eyes were harder to meet than ever. "Excuse me," I said and stepped out on the stoop, looking down the hill toward Fitzgerald's house. Not only was Fitzgerald standing on his tropic forelawn, but so were the dozen household heads in between, each and every one of them staring fixedly at the pair of us on my stoop. "Come in," I said perplexedly and led the way. When I turned to face him I found that he'd swung a square black box which resembled a miniature cathode ray oscilloscope from behind his back and was busily engaged in punching multi-colored buttons tinging the dim raster. I'm a gadget man--cybernetics is my forte--but I'm afraid I stared. The most curious wave-forms I have ever seen were purple-snaking across the 'scope. "It's a combination memory storage bank and recorder," he explained. "Electronic shorthand. I'm reading the data which your wife gave to us and which I'll ask you to verify." The gadget was a new one to me. I made a mental note to renew my subscription to _Scientific American_. "Married," he said. "Ah, yes, expecting!" "Now will you stop right there!" I cried. "That couldn't be on your records! A year ago we certainly weren't expecting! Now, look--" But he kept on with most peculiar enthusiasm. "Quintuplets! Sure! Three boys and two girls! My congratulations, Mr. Rainford. Thank you for your time!" I stood there dazed. Nobody but Doctor Gardiner, Tessie and myself--well, maybe Miriam Fitzgerald by this time--knew we were expecting. Even Gardiner couldn't know the division of sexes among the foetal group at this early stage of development! I had to find a way to delay this strange man. "Let's see your credentials again," I demanded as my mind raced: _Oh, where's Tessie? What was it Fitz had said? Brownie, maybe Brownie, can explain_-- The census taker pulled papers from his pocket, then reeled as though drunk. He staggered backward against and out of the door, the autoclose slamming it behind him. I jerked open the door and jumped out on the stoop. In those few seconds the man had vanished-- No! There he was fifty feet away ringing Mike Kozulak's bell. And he was erect, completely steady! But _nobody_ could move _that_ fast! * * * * * I turned back and picked up the papers he'd dropped. There was a little sheaf of them, printed on incredibly thin paper. The printing resembled the wave-forms I had seen upon the 'scope. It was like some twisted Arabic script. And this strange script was overprinted on a star-chart which I thought I recognized.