head stubbornly. "It worked; the kid got the cat back. Something just happened to your friend—maybe his power failed."

"Then he wouldn't have gotten all the way—and he'd have reappeared years ago. Pete measured things—and there was no displacement in space. If something had happened to him, the machine would have been there, anyhow. Besides, I had alarms wired to call the police in—told 'em it was to protect a safe—the minute he showed up. He never showed up; he never came back."

"So I suppose he just disappeared—time ate him up?" Lem's stubbornness was cracking a bit, though. His voice was higher than even an old man's should be.

"I don't know. But time machines don't work. Otherwise where are the time travellers from the future?"

They sat quietly for a second. Ned was remembering the years, up to the time he'd given up, disconnected the alarms, and come here to the Arts and Science Club to live. He'd been stubborn, maybe—a little bit—but Pete hadn't reappeared.

Behind him, the young man cleared his throat, and the robot moved forward. But there was no rule against intrusion when no one was speaking, and the robot came to a stop. Ned looked back, just as the man decided the robot wouldn't interfere. There was more amusement on the man's face now, but the bitterness still lay there.

He grinned at Ned, a familiar grin, and his voice was flat and positive. "Time machines work. And there are no paradoxes—absolutely no paradoxes!"

Lem stirred, craning back, and Ned bristled. But something about the younger man caught back the words, as he picked up the thin thread of memory.

The other grinned again, wryly. "It's simple. Time machines work in one direction—they can't go back. Your time traveller found that out too late. No trips to the past, no return from the future—and no paradoxes, Ned Brussels."

He came to his feet, moving over to drop into the chair beside Ned. The older man nodded, stretching out his hand.

"I told you not to try the damned machine, Pete," Ned told him. Then he chuckled as the oldest cliche among old friends meeting again came to his lips. "Fifty years—and you haven't changed a bit, Pete LeFranc!"

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