*

"We are here only as onlookers," the Wanderer explained sadly, "and
can have no material existence here. We can not enter this plane, for
there is no gateway. Would that there were."

Now they were over the city and the sphere came to rest above a
spacious flat roof where there were luxurious gardens and pools, and a
small glass-domed observatory. A woman was seated by one of the pools,
a beautiful woman with long golden hair that fell in soft profusion
over her ivory shoulders and bosom. Two children, handsome stalwart
boys of probably ten and twelve, romped with a domestic animal which
resembled a foxhound of Earth but had glossy short-haired fur and
flippers like these of a seal. Suddenly these three took to the water
and splashed with much vigor and joyful shouting.

The Wanderer gripped Bert's arm with painful force. "My home!" he
groaned. "Understand, Earthling? This was my home, these my wife and
children--destroyed through my folly. Destroyed, I say, in ancient
days. And by my accursed hand--when the metal monsters came."

There was madness in the Wanderer's glassy stare, the madness of a
tortured soul within. Bert began to fear him.

"We should leave," he said. "Why torment yourself with such memories?
My friends...."

"Have patience, Earthling. Don't you understand that I sinned and am
therefore condemned to this torment? Can't you see that I _must_
unburden my soul of its ages-old load, that I must revisit the scene
of my crime, that others must see and know? It is part of my
punishment, and you, perforce, must bear witness. Moreover, it is to
help your friends and your world that I bring you here. Behold!"

* * * * *

A man was coming out of the observatory, a tall man with bronzed skin
and raven locks. It was the Wanderer himself, the Wanderer of the
past, as he had been in the days of his youth and happiness.

The woman by the pool had risen from her seat and was advancing
eagerly toward her mate. Bert saw that the man hardly glanced in her
direction, so intent was he upon an object over which he stood. The
object was a shimmering bowl some eight or ten feet across, which was
mounted on a tripod near the observatory, and over whose metallic
surface a queer bluish light was playing.

It was a wordless pantomime, the ensuing scene, and Bert watched in
amazement. This woman of another race, another age, another plane, was
pleading with her man. Sobbing soun