Moments later, Tedor was ushered into a plush office which borrowed its furnishings from half a dozen civilizations. Most of the furniture was what the 20th century called Swedish modern, but the carpeting was authentic 10th century Persian, the drapes came from someplace in the Orient about five hundred years later, the pictures on the wall were replicas of drawings found in caves in southern France. The net result was garish but impressive. Behind the birch desk sat a man of about forty, well-groomed, graying at the temples. "Good afternoon, Mr. Barwan. Cigar?" "Twentieth century, I see." "It's one of the most popular eras," the Director said. "I'd like you to check on this woman for me," Tedor said hoping the Director would excuse his abrupt departure from the customary social banter. "It's urgent." Tedor gave the Director a picture of Laniq Hadrien and added, "We have reason to believe she's gone into time." "Why, this is Laniq Hadrien! Certainly you know her father, Domique Hadrien...." "Yes. His theory of a monopolist of despotism has given our department some wild goose chase headaches." The Director nodded, pressed a buzzer on his desk. A young man entered the office a moment later, receiving the picture and a few terse words before departing. "It shouldn't take long," the Director told Tedor. "Did you also know that the Hadriens, father and daughter, are non-temps?" "No. I didn't." "Yes, non-temps." The non-temps, Tedor knew, were a growing cult which insisted time-travel was an evil both from the point of view of the ages visited and of the age _doing_ the visiting. They had gathered considerable data to prove their point, and although Tedor never looked into it thoroughly, some said they put up a convincing though completely impractical argument. "We've got our hands full with Hadrien and his followers, just as you have," said the Director. "You can't argue with their figures, but sometimes figures don't tell the entire story. Ten years ago, the non-temps will tell you, the population of Earth was one billion, far smaller than it was in the past because of a sensible policy of eugenics. Today the population is somewhat short of a billion, they say, and the census verifies it. "Ten years ago, they continue, a quarter of a million people commuted into time daily to work in the various ages, sleeping here but working and vacationing else-when. Today the figure has grown to three quarters of a _billion_, and it's still increasing. "And seventy-five million people have vanished into the past. They simply preferred the past ages and broke all relations with the present. But that's the problem of you Agents, not us." "Don't I know it!" Tedor said.