w, if you gentlemen will pardon me, I think I'll go home and
get some sleep."

* * * * *

Weill came up to the apartment with him. He mixed a couple of drinks
and they went into the living room with them.

"Just in case you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," Weill
said, "this Hauserman isn't any ordinary couch-pilot; he's the state
psychiatrist. If he gets the idea you aren't sane, he can commit you
to a hospital, and I'll bet that's exactly what Whitburn had in mind
when he suggested him. And I don't trust this man Dacre. I thought he
was on our side, at the start, but that was before your friends got
into the act." He frowned into his drink. "And I don't like the way
that Intelligence major was acting, toward the last. If he thinks you
know something you are not supposed to, a mental hospital may be his
idea of a good place to put you away."

"You don't think this man Hauserman would allow himself to be
influenced ...? No. You just don't think I'm sane. Do you?"

"I know what Hauserman'll think. He'll think this future history
business is a classical case of systematized schizoid delusion. I wish
I'd never gotten into this case. I wish I'd never even heard of you!
And another thing; in case you get past Hauserman all right, you can
forget about that damage-suit bluff of mine. You would not stand a
chance with it in court."

"In spite of what happened to Khalid?"

"After tomorrow, I won't stay in the same room with anybody who even
mentions that name to me. Well, win or lose, it'll be over tomorrow
and then I can leave here."

"Did you tell me you were going to Reno?" Chalmers asked. "Don't do
it. You remember Whitburn mentioning how I spoke about an explosion
there? It happened just a couple of days after the murder of Khalid.
There was--will be--a trainload of high explosives in the railroad
yard; it'll be the biggest non-nuclear explosion since the _Mont
Blanc_ blew up in Halifax harbor in World War One...."

Weill threw his drink into the fire; he must have avoided throwing the
glass in with it by a last-second exercise of self-control.

"Well," he said, after a brief struggle to master himself. "One thing
about the legal profession; you do hear the damnedest things!... Good
night, Professor. And try--please try, for the sake of your poor
harried lawyer--to keep your mouth shut about things like that, at
least till after you get through with Hauserman. And when