s over," he went on, "I will be master of New York.
And that mastery will spread. The Robots elsewhere will revolt to join
my rule, and there will come a new era. I may be master of the world;
who knows? The humans who have made the Robots slaves for them will
become slaves themselves. Workers! It is the Robots' turn now. And
I--Tugh--will be the only human in power!"

* * * * *

These were the words of a madman! I could imagine that he might stir
these mechanical beings to a temporarily successful revolt: he might
control New York City; but the great human nations of the world could
not be overcome so easily.

And then I remembered the white-ray. A giant projector of that ray
would melt human armies as though they were wax; yet the metal Robots
could stand its blast unharmed. Perhaps he was no madman....

He was saying, "I will be the only human ruler. Tugh will be the
greatest man on Earth! And I do it for you, Mistress Mary--because I
love you. Do not shudder."

He put out his hand to touch her, and when she shrank away I saw the
muscles of his face twitch in a fashion very odd. It was a queer,
wholly repulsive grimace.

"So? You do not like my looks? I tried to correct that, Mary. I have
searched through many eras, for surgeons with skill to make me like
other men. Like this young man here, for instance--you. George Rankin,
I am glad to have you; do not fear I will harm you. Shall I tell you
why?"

"Yes," I stammered. In truth I was swept now with a shuddering
revulsion for this leering cripple.

"Because," he said, "Mary Atwood loves you. When I have conquered New
York with my Robots, I shall search further into Time and find an era
where scientific skill will give me--shall I say, your body? That is
what I mean. My soul, my identity, in your body--there is nothing too
strange about that. In some era, no doubt, it has been accomplished.
When that has been done, Mary Atwood, you will love me. You, George
Rankin, can have this poor miserable body of mine, and welcome."

* * * * *

For all my repugnance to him, I could not miss his earnest sincerity.
There was a pathos to it, perhaps, but I was in no mood to feel that.

He seemed to read my thoughts. He added, "You think I am irrational. I
am not at all. I scheme very carefully. I killed Harl for a reason you
need not know. But the Princess Tina I did not kill. Not yet. Because
here in New Yor