I began to shake as if I were as old as I'd pretended to be on the stage. "She's going to pull me back! If I don't bring her the information about the Dynapack, she'll shoot me!"
"That, Mr. Weldon, is our problem," Blundell said, putting his hand comfortingly on my arm to calm me.
"Your problem? I'm the one who'll get shot, not you!"
"But we know in complete detail what will happen when you are returned to the 20th Century."
I pulled my arm away and grabbed his. "You know that? Tell me!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weldon. If we tell you what you did, you might think of some alternate action, and there is no knowing what the result would be."
"But I didn't get shot or die of malnutrition?"
"That much we can tell you. Neither."
They all stood up, so bright and attractive in their colorful clothes that I felt like a shirt-sleeved stage hand who'd wandered in on a costume play.
"You will be returned in a month, according to the notes May Roberts left. She gave you plenty of time to get the data, you see. We propose to make that month an enjoyable one for you. The resources of our city—and any others you care to visit—are at your disposal. We wish you to take full advantage of them."