Five minutes ago.... That would be shortly before he had awakened--about the time the image of the man, in the dream, had dissolved and vanished.... * * * * * That afternoon Bryan sat at a secluded corner table in the small restaurant he frequented near the _Courier_ Building. The remains of a fourth cup of coffee stood before him, the saucer littered with cigarette butts. He was staring into the cup, brooding. His mind kept returning to his strange dream and its incredible implications. And tangled in the thread of his thoughts was the picture of Leeta, dainty and elfinly lovely, struggling toward an end he could only dimly grasp. A slim figure dropped into the chair opposite Bryan. It was Joyce, crisp, fresh, giving her usual effect of elegance. "Hi! A little bird told me I'd find you here, Terry." She studied his face in swift concern. "What on earth happened to you last night? You look like a fugitive from a horror movie." "Maybe I am," Bryan grunted. And he grinned wryly at the element of truth in his retort. Joyce was solemn, probing. "Terry, I heard what happened in the park last night. One of our fellow wage slaves is posted at Headquarters, you know. And from what he told me, I gather you were mixed up in something with a spook angle. But, Terry, it seems the police have the quaint idea you didn't give them the whole story." He shook his head. "I'm not ready for the booby-hatch just yet." "Then you didn't tell the whole story." She leaned forward, her face eager. "I'm dying with curiosity over what really happened, Terry. Want to tell me--or are you saving it for your memoirs?" He lighted a fresh cigarette, considering. Joyce was an understanding person, he knew. And she had imagination. She could be trusted not to misinterpret the fantastic nature of his experience. Speaking low-voiced, he told her of Leeta's arrival at the park, of the attack on the other man and himself by the grotesque and somehow unsubstantial mosquito-men, of the complete paralysis that had resulted. Joyce broke in, "But, Terry, if the things weren't solid, how could they possibly have affected you?" "I've been trying to figure out that angle," he said. "I think they were energy projections of some kind and were able to use this energy to stun their victims. It should work both ways--that is, some forms of energy from our end should be able to affect them, too." He went on to describe the crystal globe and the use Leeta had made of it. Finally he mentioned his dream and his telephone call to the hospital. Joyce looked shaken. "It ... it's gruesome, Terry. If anyone else had told me those things, I'd have said they were plain crazy." She hesitated. "This girl with the strange way of making men friends, what was she like?" "She was ... beautiful," Bryan said. He stared into distance, seeing Leeta in memory again. His voice softened. "I've never met anyone like her."