"First of all, I must apologize to you, Mr. Cleaver, and to Miss MacDowell and Mr. Blakeson for this rude infringement upon your personal privacy. It was an unwarranted step I took, intruding on your lives this way, but I hope that you'll agree it was not unforgivable. "I have already explained to these gentlemen"--he bobbed his head toward the pedagogues and the shamus--"the urgency of our situation. To clarify in your minds the how and where of your present location--" Hank Cleaver _harrumphed!_ and interrupted. "Reckon as how you can skip that, Lootenant," he said. "It's purty clear. You bridged the time gap from _your_ time to _ours_ by means of an ultra-wave temporal aberrant. Brought us up a couple o' centuries to 'bout the--well, 'bout the twenty-third century." Lancelot Biggs tried hard to swallow the billiard ball under his chin. "How--how did you know that, Mr. Cleaver?" Hank scratched his head, and into his eyes came the old, baffled look that always came there when he was asked _how_ he knew anything. "Well," he confessed, "I don't 'zackly know how I know, but I do. Just stands to reason, that's all. When you come slidin' down the visible waves to hunt for us, an' when we woke to find ourselves on a space ship--an' as for the time element, well, I alluz 'lowed as how it'd take people bout fifty years, more or less, to make the first successful space flight, an' another two hundred to git it workin' proper--" Lancelot Biggs' eyes lighted with a great joy. "Mr. Cleaver, I touch my rocket to you! The ancient records do not lie. You are indeed a remarkable man. _Now_"--he turned to his fellow officers triumphantly--"now I _know_ we shall win free of our difficulties. With your assistance." * * * * * Hank flushed, and squirmed a bulldog toe. "Mebbe you better explain these here difficulties." It was Biggs' turn to flush. "I'm afraid," he said miserably, "it's all my fault. Six days ago, Earth Standard time, we lifted gravs from Long Island space port for Mars Central. This was to be my final shuttle before getting married to the skipper's daughter, Diane. Consequently I was a trifle--well, impatient. But I'm sure you understand, Mr. Cleaver." Hank said hastily, "You better git on, Lootenant." He didn't look at Helen, which was a good thing. "For some time," continued Biggs, "I have been experimenting with a new device, designed to increase the speed of our vessel. It seemed particularly appropriate that this shuttle should be the test period. So with Captain Hanson's permission I installed my new velocity intensifier on the hypatomics. After we cleared Lunar III, I switched it on--" Biggs stopped. His eyes were haunted. Horse-sense Hank said, "Yeah?" "There was a moment of frightful acceleration, then a sharp explosion, and when order was resumed--here we were!" Nobody spoke, which seemed silly. "That," I said, "doesn't make sense. Here you were. So _where_ were you?"