the letterhead, he saw without surprise, was oliver b. mcallen.

the letter read:

dear mr. chard:

an unfortunate series of circumstances, combined with certain character traits in yourself, make it necessary to inconvenience you in a rather serious manner.

to explain: the information i gave you regarding the mcallen tube and my own position was not entirely correct. it is not the intractable instrument i presented it as being—it can be "shut off" again quite readily and without any attendant difficulties. further, the decision to conceal its existence was not reached by myself alone. for years we—that is, mr. fredericks, who holds a degree in engineering and was largely responsible for the actual construction of the tube—and i, have been members of an association of which i cannot tell you too much. but i may say that it acts, among other things, as the present custodian of some of the more dangerous products of human science, and will continue to do so until a more stable period permits their safe release.

to keep developments such as the mcallen tube out of irresponsible hands is no easy task these days, but a variety of effective devices are employed to that end. in this instance, you happened upon a "rigged" situation, which had been designed to draw action from another man, an intelligent and unscrupulous individual who lately had indicated a disturbing interest in events connected with the semipublic fiasco of my "matter transmitter" some years ago. the chances of another person becoming aware of the temporal incongruities which were being brought to this man's attention were regarded as so remote that they need be given no practical consideration. nevertheless, the unexpected happened: you became interested. the promptness with which you acted on your chance observations shows a bold and imaginative manner of thinking on which you may be genuinely congratulated.

however, a perhaps less commendable motivation was also indicated. while i appeared to stall on coming to decisions you may have regarded as inevitable, your background was being investigated by the association. the investigation confirmed that you fall within a personality category of which we have the greatest reason to be wary.

considering the extent of what you had surmised and learned, falsified though the picture was, this presented a serious problem. it was made more acute by the fact that the association is embarking on a "five-year-plan" of some importance. publicity during this period would be more than ordinarily undesirable. it will therefore be necessary to see to it that you have no opportunity to tell what you know before the plan is concluded. i am sure you can see it would be most unwise to accept your simple word on the matter. your freedom of movement and of communication must remain drastically restricted until this five-year period is over.

within the next two weeks, as shown by the clock in your quarters, it will have become impossible for me or for any member of the association to contact you again before the day of your release. i tell you this so that you will not nourish vain hopes of changing the situation in your favor, but will adjust as rapidly as you can to the fact that you must spend the next five years by yourself. what ameliorations of this basic condition appeared possible have been provided.

it is likely that you will already have tried to find a way out of the cabin in which you were left. the manner of doing this will become apparent to you exactly twenty-four hours after i conclude and seal this letter. it seemed best to advise you of some details of your confinement before letting you discover that you have been given as much limited freedom as circumstances allowed.

sincerely yours,

oliver b. mcallen

barney dropped the letter on the desk, stared down at it, his mouth open. his face had flushed red. "why, he's crazy!" he said aloud at last. "he's crazier than—" he straightened, looked uneasily about the room again.

whether a maniac mcallen made a more desirable jailer than a secret association engaged in keeping dangerous scientific developments under cover could be considered an open question. the most hopeful thought was that dr. mcallen was indulging an unsuspected and nasty sense of humor.

unfortunately, there wasn't the slightest reason to believe it. mcallen was wise to him. the situation was no gag—and neither was it necessarily what mcallen wanted him to think. unless his watch had been reset, he had been knocked out by whatever hit him for roughly five hours—or seventeen, he amended. but he would have been hungry if it had been the longer period; and he wasn't.

five hours then. five hours wouldn't have given them time to prepare the "cabin" as it was prepared: for someone's indefinite stay. at a guess, mcallen had constructed it as a secure personal retreat in the event of something like a nuclear holocaust. but, in that case, why vacate it now for barney chard?

too many questions, he thought. better just keep looking around.