For that matter, how had Henry gotten the machine
I pondered on that and decided he must have brought it in piece-meal and then assembled it.
What really concerned me was how he had managed, earlier in the day, to get the time machine out of the room.
That was what I was there to find out.
I began by examining the walls. They were cement block on all four sides and absolutely solid. I took measurements of the room and the entire inside of the garage. My computations showed that there were no secret compartments, no false chambers. I examined the ventilator grates thoroughly. I tried to shake them loose, but they were securely screwed into place. They could not be removed without some time and effort. I examined the floor. It was compact and unbroken cement.
There was one more possibility. The ceiling. Perhaps Henry had some device — some series of hoists — that would whisk, the machine into a ceiling crevice.
I got a step ladder from the other room and went over the ceiling with minute thoroughness. The plaster was old and a bit grimy, but there was not even one crack that might indicate access to some secret compartment above.
I got off the ladder and found myself trembling.
There was no possible way out of this room. None at all.
Except by the time machine!
It was ten minutes before the weakness left me. I turned out the lights and locked both doors behind me.
The next morning I began converting my capital into cash.
Shippler called in the afternoon with his daily report: 'Mrs. Reeves attended a card party at the home of this Doris at two yesterday afternoon. I found out her last name. It's Weaver. The names of the twins are…'
'Confound it, I don't care what the names of the blasted twins are.'
'Sorry. Your wife left there at four-thirty-six. She stopped at a supermarket and bought four lamb chops, two pounds of…'
'She went shopping for the cook,' I stormed. 'Now do you have anything
'Nothing really important, I guess.'
'Then send me your bill. I won't be needing you any more.'
'Well, if you do,' Shippler said brightly, 'you know where we are. And congratulations.'
'Congratulations? On what?'
'Well… on your wife's… ah… faithfulness… this time.'
I hung up.
No. I wouldn't be needing Shippler any more. If I wanted to find out anything at all about Diana, I would soon be able to do so myself.
My thoughts went to Henry. He could undoubtedly build another time machine, but I couldn't allow that. In order for my plans to be effective I had to have a monopoly. Henry would have to go and I would see to that after I possessed the machine.
At the end of the week, I had the two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash. I was tempted to phone Henry, but I was afraid he might shy away entirely if he knew that I had discovered his identity.
Three excruciatingly long days more went by before Henry rang the door bell of my apartment.
I drew him quickly inside. 'I have the money. All of it.'
Henry rubbed an ear. 'I really don't know whether I should sell the machine.'
I glared at him. 'Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It's all the money I have in the world. I won't pay another cent.'
'It isn't the money. I just don't know if I ought to go through with it.'
I opened the suitcase. 'Look at it, Henry. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Do you know what that much money can buy? You can make yourself dozens of time machines. You can gold-plate them. You can set jewels in them.'
He still held back.
'Henry,' I said severely. 'We made a bargain, didn't we? You can't go back on that.'
Henry finally sighed. 'I suppose not. But I still think I'm making a mistake.'
I rubbed my hands. 'Now let's get down to my car. You may blindfold me and drive me to your place.'
'Blindfolding won't be necessary now,' Henry said morosely. 'As long as you're getting the time machine you'll be able to find out who I am and where I live anyway.'
How true. Henry was doomed.
'But I will search you,' Henry said.
The ride to Henry's garage seemed interminable, but at last we were inside. Henry fumbled with the keys to the next room and I almost yielded to the urge to snatch them from him and do the job myself.
Finally he had the door open and switched on the overhead light.
The machine was there. Beautiful. Shining. And now it was mine.
Henry took the vital control unit out of his pocket and threaded it into place. He took a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. 'These are the directions. Don't lose this paper or you might become stranded somewhere in time. Better yet, memorize them.'
I took the sheet out of his hands.
'You may not get the exact date you want at the first try,' Henry said. 'Because calendars have been changed and besides, once you get back more than five hundred years, you'll find all sorts of errors in history. But you can approximate the time and then use this fine tuner over here in order to pinpoint…'
'Stop your babbling and get out of here!' I snapped. 'I can read directions as well as anyone.'
Henry was a bit miffed, but he left the room and closed the door.
I got into the chair and read the typewritten directions. They were absurdly simple. But I read them again and then put the paper in my pocket.
Now, where would I go?
I studied the controls.
Yes. I had it. The New Year's Eve party at the Lowells. Diana had disappeared at ten-thirty and I hadn't seen her again until two A.M. of 1960. She had never given me a satisfactory explanation for her absence.
I adjusted the time control and the direction knob. I did not know the exact distance to the Lowells from this point, but I would use the fine tuner directly under the mileage dial once I got underway.
I hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, and then pressed the red button.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I frowned and pressed the button again.
Nothing.
I took the slip out of my pocket and feverishly reviewed the directions. I had committed no errors.
And then I knew! The entire thing had been a hoax!
I leaped out of the chair and rushed to the door.
It was locked.
I pounded with my fists and called Henry's name. I cursed and shrieked until my voice was hoarse.
The door remained closed.
I managed to get some control over myself and darted to the time machine. I wrenched loose a section of the chair piping and returned to the door.
The piece of pipe was aluminum and fiendishly light and malleable. It took me more than forty-five minutes before I managed to force the pins out of the door hinges and get out of the room.
I found an envelope under the windshield wiper of my car and tore it open.
The typewritten pages were, of course, intended for me.
My dear Mr. Reeves:
Yes, you have been thoroughly hoaxed. There is no such a thing as a time machine.
I suppose I could leave it at that and allow you to go mad attempting to arrive at some reasonable
