impermanent-looking buildings, and Corrigan himself, all added up to one thing in the young man's mind.

"You're wrong," Corrigan said. "I'm not a lunatic, and this isn't an asylum. We don't have them."

The young man, on the ground now, stared at Corrigan in evident horror.

"Mind reading?"

"More or less," Corrigan said. "It saves time. For instance, you're Darwin Lenner, and you'd like very much to get back to wherever you started from. In fact, you have to, or something unpleasant might happen to you, by your standards."

"I'd be absent without permission," Lenner admitted. "I ... I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Only when absolutely necessary," Corrigan smiled. "I'm a philosopher by trade, myself, not a mind reader. My name's Philip Corrigan, and I'd be very glad to help you on your way ... but I think it might be a little difficult. We aren't really a very mechanically-minded people here."

Lenner ran his hands through his hair. "I've got to get back. Isn't there anybody who knows something about time machines?"

Corrigan had been thinking swiftly. He had also been carrying on a conversation which Lenner could not possibly hear, with a man who was several miles away.

"Burwell, he wants to go home."

"Fine. He ought to. Why doesn't he?"

"He lost his confidence. He thinks his machine's broken down."

"That kind, eh? I suppose the thing never really did work very well."

"Most of them don't. They go traveling around hit-or-miss through probability under the operator's own mental steam—but this fellow probably comes from a world where an idea like that's illegal."

"Sounds like it. Corrigan, take him on a guided tour or something, and keep him busy. I'll be over as soon as I can. I'm going to do something for his self-confidence. Here's the story to give him...."

Corrigan had always enjoyed conducting guided tours, and he was enjoying this one especially well. He had a slightly wicked taste for complicated teasing, and Lenner was a perfect object. He had evidently 

 Prev. P 2/5 next