to
turn and bolt at any moment.

Broom laughed. "You have nothing to fear from me, little man. Permit me
to introduce myself. I am Richard Broom, known as--" He stopped, and his
eyes widened. Total memory flooded over him as he realized fully who he
was and where he belonged.

And the fear hit him again in a raging flood, sweeping over his mind and
blotting it out. Again, the darkness came.

* * * * *

This time, the blackness faded quickly. There was a face, a worried
face, looking at him through an aperture in the stone wall. The
surroundings were so familiar, that the bits of memory which had been
scattered again during the passage through centuries of time came back
more quickly and settled back into their accustomed pattern more easily.

The face was that of the Italian, Contarini. He was looking both worried
and disappointed.

"You were not gone long, my lord king," he said. "But you _were_ gone.
Of that there can be no doubt. Why did you return?"

Richard Broom sat up on his palette of straw. The scene in the strange
building already seemed dreamlike, but the fear was still there. "I
couldn't remember," he said softly. "I couldn't remember who I was nor
why I had gone to that ... that place. And when I remembered, I came
back."

Contarini nodded sadly. "It is as I have heard. The memory ties one too
strongly to the past--to one's own time. One must return as soon as the
mind had adjusted. I am sorry, my friend; I had hoped we could escape.
But now it appears that we must wait until our ransoms are paid. And I
much fear that mine will never be paid."

"Nor mine," said the big man dully. "My faithful Blondin found me, but
he may not have returned to London. And even if he has, my brother John
may be reluctant to raise the money."

"What? Would England hesitate to ransom the brave king who has fought so
gallantly in the Holy Crusades? Never! You will be free, my friend."

But Richard Plantagenet just stared at the little dish that he still
held in his hand, the fear still in his heart. Men would still call him
"Lion-hearted," but he knew that he would never again deserve the title.

* * * * *

And, nearly eight centuries away in time and thousands of miles away in
space, a Mr. Edward Jasperson was speaking hurriedly into the telephone
that stood by the electric typewriter on his desk.

"That's right, Officer; Suite 8601, Empire State Bu