We skirted it and headed toward the road, lights in the distance telling us that cars were on the way to get us. I saw Dotty stumble. I took her arm. She looked up at me, recognized me in the light from the glowing pool of bubbling lava, and tried to pull away. "Take it easy," I said gruffly. "I'm your friend. Maybe the only friend you've got here." Her look told me she didn't believe me, but she didn't pull away any more. We walked along, and after a moment she seemed to struggle up out of her mental paralysis. "Herb was right!" she said in a low, wondering tone. "He really did remember." "It was plain coincidence," I said sharply, "and don't ever let yourself think differently. He's insane. It's a recognized form of insanity. He'll be sent to a good mental hospital, and in a year or two he'll come out good as new." "Coincidence?" she echoed. Then she laughed. It was mirth that drifted quickly into hysterical hopelessness. I dug my fingers into her flesh until the pain brought her to her senses. "Coincidence," I said. "Nothing more. I've seen seventeen cases just like his. How else did I spot him? I recognized the type. None of the others found what they rationalized themselves into thinking they remembered from the time they were Martians. Eventually one of them would stumble onto something. That's coincidence. Not incarnated memory." She turned her head and blinked at me. I nodded grimly. "I'm an agent," I said. "I go out on the tours for one purpose only--to spot psychos and make sure they don't get out of control. You'd be surprised how many there are. Some of them, like your husband, probably show no sign of instability until they get here. They look around at the evidence of a civilization that existed before _homo sapiens_ had evolved on the Earth, and it throws them. If you want to understand more about it read the medical books. They get irrational pre-memories. They look at something and the idea of familiarity associates with the new impression. They look around a corner and see something, and build up the conviction that they had consciously known what was there before they looked around the corner." I felt that I was making headway with her. I wanted to. I had to. "You--you say there were others, and they didn't find anything?" she said. She was groping for something logical to grasp. I had to give her that something. "That's right," I said. "And the law of averages said that someday someone would uncover something that's been missed." She was nodding slowly now, accepting what I was saying. It was authoritative. She would find confirmation in authoritative books. If she wanted to pursue the subject she would find plenty of evidence, real evidence, to support it. It is a common form of insanity. It was important that she believe that.