old man. "You've got pictures in there--pictures
of this other dimension?"

"Yes." He fumbled in his vest pocket, found a small key, and with
trembling hand inserted it in the album lock. "I've never shown anyone
these pictures before," he said.

Despite himself, Joey felt excited. Even as he dismissed Ewing as a
hopeless crackpot, he was disturbingly eager to see the pictures in the
old album.

Ewing gestured for him to be seated. Joey sat in the chair near the
table and the old man handed him the open album.

"So far," Ewing said, "I haven't been able to control the process. I
photograph a subject and the picture may be projected ten years into the
future or a hundred years into the past. There must be an infinite
number of dimensions registered on the film, but my developer varies."

Joey's initial eagerness was quickly dissipated. The photographs in the
album were disappointingly ordinary. True, there were some that seemed
to be trick-shots and a few in which the costuming was unfamiliar, but
certainly nothing to document the old boy's claim. Aside from a few
shots that were interesting because of their violence, there was nothing
in the album.

Ewing waited for Joey's reaction--the parchment face even more deeply
wrinkled by excitement--the blue eyes blazing.

"Well, Mr. Barrett?"

Joey left the album open at the picture of a gruesome accident.
Apparently, two cars had met head-on. The one had been a sleek
convertible. The other was an old sedan. Both were terribly crumpled.
Glass littered the street. Steam spewed from the twisted radiator of the
old wreck.

A man sprawled from the front seat of the sedan--an elderly man, with a
white beard--a beard spattered with blood. His sightless eyes stared
accusingly at the small cluster of onlookers who surrounded the wreck.
Nearby, thrown from the crushed convertible by the impact, lay a woman.
She wore an extreme evening dress, and a fur cape had fallen not far
from her body. All around her were pearls ... spilled from the broken
strand at her throat.

Joey looked up at Ewing. He shook his head. "You've got some interesting
pictures, but I can't see that they prove your theory. They could have
been taken any time." He pointed to the photo of the wreck. "This one,
for instance." He smiled up at the old man. "That looks like a shot I
might have made."

Ewing's entire body seemed shaken by his eagerness to prove his point.
"Mr. Barrett ... that picture is of