and removed the X-ray photograph. "It's impossible to
believe that these were taken of your wife, but they corroborate the
evidence of the other medical records. They show a perfectly normal
structure."

The two men remained silent across the desk, each reluctant to express
his confused thoughts. Dr. Winters finally broke the silence. "It must
be, Mr. Hastings," he said, "--it must be that this woman--this utterly
alien person--is simply not your wife, Alice. Somehow, somewhere, there
must be a mistake in identity, a substitution of similar individuals."

"She was not out of my sight," said Mel. "Everything was completely
normal when I came home that night. Nothing was out of place. We went
out to a show. Then, on the way home, the accident occurred. There could
have been no substitution--except right here in the hospital. But I know
it was Alice I saw. That's why I made you let me see her again--to make
sure."

"But the evidence you have brought me proves otherwise. These medical
records, these X-rays prove that the girl, Alice, whom you married, was
quite normal. It is utterly impossible that she could have metamorphosed
into the person on whom we operated."

Mel stared at the reflection of the sky in the polished desk top. "I
don't know the answer," he said. "It must not be Alice. But if that's
the case, where is Alice?"

"That might even be a matter for the police," said Dr. Winters. "There
are many things yet to be learned about this mystery."

"There's one thing more," said Mel. "Fingerprints. When we first came
here Alice got a job where she had to have her fingerprints taken."

"Excellent!" Dr. Winters exclaimed. "That should give us our final
proof!"

It took the rest of the afternoon to get the fingerprint record and make
a comparison. Dr. Winters called Mel at home to give him the report.
There was no question. The fingerprints were identical. The corpse was
that of Alice Hastings.

* * * * *

The nightmare came again that night. Worse than Mel could ever remember
it. As always, it was a dream of space, black empty space, and he was
floating alone in the immense depths of it. There was no direction. He
was caught in a whirlpool of vertigo from which he reached out with
agonized yearning for some solidarity to cling to.

There was only space.

After a time he was no longer alone. He could not see them, but he knew
they were out there. The searchers. He did not know