scratching.
His momentum and angle of incidence were such that his stumbling rebound bore him down atop the belt. His knife and the towel-swathed star-stone flew from his hands as he tried to stay his fall. They bounced from the platform down onto the floor as he was borne on into the tunnel. His scream was cut short with an ominous abruptness and I looked away, but not in time.
It apparently turned him inside out.
Which of course delivered the contents of his circulatory and digestive systems to the floor.
Also, it seemed to have inverted all of the organs which were now exposed.
The contents of my own stomach sought egress, reinforced by the noises which had begun about me. Like I said, I looked away. But not in time.
It was Charv who finally managed to get up stomach enough to get to them and throw someone's coat over the remains, where they had fallen from the belt as it advanced toward the perpendicular. Then, and only then, did Ragma's practicality return, punctuated by his near hysterical 'The stone! Where is the stone?'
Through watering eyes, I sought for it and then beheld the racing form of Paul Byler, bloody towel clutched beneath his arm, on his way across the hall.
'Once a jolly swagman,' he called out, 'always a jolly swagman!' and he was gone out the door.
Pandemonium reigned. Over the just and the near just.
My hallucination then gave a final spin to his stick, turned, nodded in my direction and approached us. I rose to my feet, nodded back, found a smile and showed it to him.
'Fred, my boy, you've grown,' he said. 'I hear you have acquired a high degree and a responsible position. Congratulations!'
'Thank you,' I said.
'How are you feeling?'
'Rather like Pip,' I told him, 'though my expectations are simple things, I never realized what your export- import business was actually all about.'
He chuckled. He embraced me.
'Tut, lad. Tut,' he said, pushing me back to arm's length again. 'Let me look at you. There. So that's how you turned out, is it? Could be worse, could be worse.'
'Byler has the stone!' Charv shrieked.
'The man who just left-' I began.
'-shan't get very far, lad. Frenchy is outside to prevent anyone's departing this place with unseemly haste. In fact, if you listen you may hear the clatter of hoofs on marble.'
I did, and I did. I also heard profanity and the sounds of a struggle without.
'Who, sir, are you?' Ragma inquired, rising up onto his hind legs and drawing near.
'This is my Uncle Albert,' I said, 'the man who put me through school: Albert Cassidy.'
Uncle Albert studied Ragma through narrowed eyes as I explained, 'This is Ragma. He is an alien cop in disguise. His partner is named Charv. He is the kangaroo.'
Uncle Al nodded.
'The art of disguise has come a long way,' he observed. 'How do you manage the effect?'
'We are extraterrestrial aliens,' Ragma explained.
'Oh, that does make a difference then. You will have to excuse my ignorance of these matters. For a number of years and a variety of reasons have I been a man whose very blood is snow-broth, numb to the wanton stings and motions of the senses. Are you a friend of Fred's?'
'I have tried to be,' Ragma replied.
'It is good to know that,' he said, smiling. 'For, extraterrestrial alien or no, if you were here to harm him, not all the cheese in Cheshire would buy your safety. Fred, what of these others?'
But I did not answer him because I had chosen that moment to glance upward, had seen something just as he had spoken and was in the process of having the 1812 Overture, smoke signals, semaphores and assorted fireworks displays simultaneously active within my head.
'The smile!' I cried and tore off toward the rear of the hall.
I had never been past the door at that end of the place, but I was familiar with the reversed layout of the roof and that was all that I needed to know just then.
I plunged through and followed the corridor that lay behind. When it branched, I headed to the left. Ten quick paces, another turn and I saw the stairway off to the right. Reaching it, I swung around the rail post and took the steps two at a time.
How it all fit I did not know. But that it did I did not doubt.
I reached a landing, took a turn, came to another, took another. The end of things came into view.
There was a final landing with a door at the head of-the stairs, all enclosed in a kiosk with small, meshed windows about. I hoped that the door opened from the inside without a key-it looked like that sort of handle arrangement—because it would take a while to smash through a window and its grillwork, if I could do it at all. As I ascended, I cast my eyes about, looking for tools for this purpose.
I spotted some junk that might serve that end, as no one had apparently envisioned anyone wanting to break out of the place. It proved unnecessary, however, for the door yielded when I depressed the handle and threw my weight against it.
It was of the heavy, slow-opening sort, but when I had finally thrust it aside and stepped out I was certain that I was near to something important. I blinked against the darkness, trying to sort pipes, stacks, hatch covers and shadows into the notches my memory provided. Somewhere among them all, beneath the stars, the moon and the Manhattan skyline, was one special slot that I had to fill. The odds might be against it, but I had moved quickly. If the entire guess held true, there was a chance ...
Catching my breath, I studied the panorama. I circled the kiosk slowly, my back to it, staring outward, scrutinizing every dark patch and cranny on the roof, on the ledges, beyond. It was almost a literally proverbial situation, only this was not a coal cellar and it was past midnight.
The object of my search might seem to have several advantages. Along with a growing certainty that I was right, however, I had persistence. I would not go away. I would outwait him if he were waiting. I would pursue him if I glimpsed his flight.
'I know you are there,' I said, 'and I know that you can hear me. There must be an accounting now, for we have been pushed too far. I have come for it. Will you surrender yourself and answer our questions? Or do you wish to make a bad situation worse by being difficult about it?'
There came no answer. I still had not caught sight of what I had hoped to find.
'Well?' I said. 'I am waiting. I can wait as long as is necessary. You have to be breaking the law-your law. I am positive of that. The nature of the entire setup requires injunctions against activities of this sort. I have no idea as to your motives, but they are not especially material at this point. I suppose that I should have caught on sooner, but I did not extend my recent awareness of the diversity of alien life forms quite quickly enough. So you got away with a lot. Back at the shack? Yes, I guess that is where I should have made the connection, the second time around. There were a few earlier encounters, but I think I may be excused missing their significance. Right here even, the night I tested the machine ... Are you ready to come out? No? All right. My guess is that you are telepatbic and that all these words are unnecessary, as I did not hear you say anything to Zeemeister. Still, I am not of a mind to settle for anything less than certainty, so I shall continue in this fashion. I believe you possess a tapetum, like your model. I saw the light from below. Keep your eyes closed or your head turned away, or I'll spot the light. Then, of course, you will not be able to see me. Your telepathic sense, though? I wonder now. It just occurred to me that you might betray yourself to M'mrm'mlrr if you use it. He isn't all that far away. It is possible that you are now at a disadvantage. What do you say? Do you want to be graceful about it? Or would you rather sit out a long siege?'
Still nothing. But I refused to let a doubt enter my mind.
'Stubborn, aren't you?' I went on. 'But then I would imagine you have a lot to lose. Ragma and Charv seem to have a bit of leeway in their work, though, being this far from the center of things. Perhaps they know some way to make it go a trifle easier for you. I don't know. Just talking. Worth thinking about, though. I believe the fact that no one has followed me up here indicates that M'mrm'mlrr is reading my thoughts and reporting the situation below. They must already be aware of everything that I have figured out. They must know that what tripped you up
