A maze of metal structure, this roof-top. It was all official--the public always was barred up here. Its activity was paralyzed now. The buildings were abandoned. The lights were nearly all out. It lay dark and mysterious, with only the glow of the city showing in occasional irregular patches where the roof-structure was translucent. * * * * * Our car was frequently challenged as we passed prowling patrols of the city police. Then we came to Van Dyne. A friendly fellow. Alan, in confidence told him our plan, and he passed us. His post here was the end of our territory. Beyond it the roof was abandoned--a sort of No Man's Land, where figures prowled; but for hours now there had been no fighting. "Good luck," Van Dyne said. We slipped past and ran south. We followed a narrow viaduct which bent to the right to avoid the higher terraces. The roof surface was some six feet beneath it, with occasional steps leading down. It was all solid black. We were armed with the needlelike swords; and each of us carried a small dagger. It had been our original plan to have Van Dyne secure for us two uniforms of the Turberites. There were many bodies in the city in our territory. But it was not necessary, Van Dyne told us promptly. The roof up here had been the scene of many bloody skirmishes. We could pick for ourselves. We went south perhaps a mile. Alert, but we encountered nothing alive. Occasionally upon the roof we saw a heap of dead. Our little viaduct in one place was blocked with bodies. Turber's rabble was always garbed in the costumes of its native Time-worlds. It seemed a conceit of his. We lifted the dead bodies here. Grisly business! We selected two of about our size. They wore the red-coated uniforms of the British army of the Revolutionary War. In the darkness on the trestle-like viaduct we changed clothes. And then we found two dark cloaks. Threw them over our heads. In the darkness we might thus pass unnoticed. But if challenged we hoped we might be thought Turberites. Our native language--with uniforms like this--would be English, which is why we selected them. We discarded our police needle-swords and carried only the daggers. Again we started south. The roof was at a low altitude here over the Hudson River section. We passed down to where the fence of the original Turberite area ranged in an irregular line east and west across the roof. "Think we can get through it, Ed?" "Van Dyne said the gates were more or less abandoned--some were smashed by the fighting up here." "Yes. But we'll be challenged." We had expected constantly to be challenged. The metal fence loomed close before us. It seemed thirty or forty feet high. There was a gateway near by. "Over there," whispered Alan. We were down on the roof-structure itself now, clambering forward over its sluiceways.