The man nodded. "Jefferson Haldeman Parks, if that helps any. Haldeman was my mother's maiden name."
"All right. And you got into town on Friday—right?"
Parks nodded.
"Fine. Now go through the whole story again. What happened first?"
The man thought for a minute. "As I said, first there was a fall. About twenty feet. I didn't break any bones, but I was shaken up and limping. The fall was near the highway going to the George Washington Bridge. I got over to the highway and tried to flag down a ride."
"How did you feel? I mean, was there anything strange that you noticed?"
"Strange!" Parks' eyes widened. "I—I was speechless. At first I hadn't noticed too much—I was concerned with the fall, and whether I was hurt or not. I didn't really think about much else until I hobbled up to that highway and saw those cars coming. Then I could hardly believe my eyes. I thought I was crazy. But a car stopped and asked me if I was going into the city, and I knew I wasn't crazy."
Morgan's mouth took a grim line. "You understood the language?"
"Oh, yes. I don't see how I could have, but I did. We talked all the way into New York—nothing very important, but we understood each other. His speech had an odd sound, but—"
Morgan nodded. "I know, I noticed. What did you do when you got to New York?"