he city lights blinked out. A humming
sound filled the air.

Martha Graham clutched her husband's arm. "Ted! Wha-- what was that?"

"I dunno." He turned. "Mr. Rush!"

No answer. Only the humming.

The door at the end of the room opened. A strange man came through it.
He wore a short toga-like garment of gray, metallic cloth belted at the
waist by something that glittered and shimmered through every color of
the spectrum. An aura of coldness and power emanated from him--a sense
of untouchable hauteur.

* * * * *

He glanced around the room, spoke in the same tongue the Rushes had
used.

Ted Graham said, "I don't understand you, mister."

The man put a hand to his flickering belt. Both Ted and Martha Graham
felt themselves rooted to the floor, a tingling sensation vibrating
along every nerve.

Again the strange language rolled from the man's tongue, but now the
words were understood.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Graham. This is my wife. What's going--"

"How did you get here?"

"The Rushes--they wanted to trade us this house for our trailer. They
brought us. Now look, we--"

"What is your talent--your occupation?"

"Tax accountant. Say! Why all these--"

"That was to be expected," said the man. "Clever! Oh, excessively
clever!" His hand moved again to the belt. "Now be very quiet. This may
confuse you momentarily."

Colored lights filled both the Grahams' minds. They staggered.

"You are qualified," said the man. "You will serve."

"Where are we?" demanded Martha Graham.

"The coordinates would not be intelligible to you," he said. "I am of
the Rojac. It is sufficient for you to know that you are under Rojac
sovereignty."

* * * * *

Ted Graham said, "But--"

"You have, in a way, been kidnapped. And the Raimees have fled to your
planet--an unregistered planet."

"I'm afraid," Martha Graham said shakily.

"You have nothing to fear," said the man. "You are no longer on the
planet of your birth--nor even in the same galaxy." He glanced at Ted
Graham's wrist. "That device on your wrist--it tells your local time?"

"Yes."

"That will help in the search. And your sun--can you describe its atomic
cycle?"

Ted Graham groped in his mind for his science memories from school, from
the Sunday supplements. "I can recall that our galaxy is a spiral
like--"

"Most galaxies are spiral."

"Is this some kind of a practical joke?" asked T