planet had become a glowing orange coal.

We had seen a billion persons dying in a planetary suttee.

The vastness of the dead stunned me. I found that I was sobbing, almost weeping as I felt myself stained with a cosmic guilt.

The officer who had destroyed a billion lives glanced at me in full understanding of what he had done. He placed a hand on my shoulder, strangely comforting.

"It couldn't be helped," he said in a voice that surged with emotion.

I nodded bleakly. It couldn't be helped. "It was for the sake of Earth," I said, blindly seeking justification. "Earth was destined to win, in my time-sequence, and I had interfered—I had to correct the consequences of my blunder—"

I stopped. Wild astonishment burst through the tragic mask on the face of the officer. He drew back his arm as though he had found himself embracing an adder.

"What's the matter?" I asked in astonishment.

He stared at me with dawning comprehension—and pity. "Say that again!" he whispered.

"Why—I said I had to correct my mistake. I had interfered, and the time-traveler who interferes maroons himself hopelessly. I had destroyed your weapon against Venus—yet Venus had to be obliterated, or else I had no chance of return. I was lost—and now, perhaps, I may have a chance to get back."

He shook his head. There was compassion in his voice. "No, you have no chance," he said, and hesitated while I tried to take in his meaning. "You see, this is Venus." He waved at the glowing cinder in the sky. "That was Earth up there."

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