Joey disguised a grin. "What finally decided you?"
Ewing closed his eyes. "I'm not well. Heart. Most unreliable. Doctor tells me I may ... may die ... at any time."
"I see."
"But, before I die," the old man said, leaning forward again, "I must share my secret." He seemed to have difficulty in finding the words he sought. "It's ... it's so extraordinary, Mr. Barrett, that I've been afraid to divulge it." He gave a sad shake of his head. "People today are so unwilling to accept the unusual."
Joey writhed inwardly. This was worse than he had thought. He would make Nugent pay. "Mr. Nugent said something about your photographing another dimension," he prompted.
The old man pushed himself to his feet. "It was accidental. I've dabbled in amateur photography for years." He limped over to his camera. "Not only took pictures—developed my own." He paused and looked very directly at Joey. "About six years ago, I began experimenting with a new developer."
Ewing's eyes were disturbing. Joey looked away. "You had used commercial developers before?"
"Yes." Ewing gripped the camera. "I wanted a developer that would give a more sharply defined image. I tried fifty different formulae—never quite achieving what I had in mind."
Joey lit a cigarette. "You must have spent a lot of time on it."
"I had retired. I live alone here. No other interests." The phrases came in little gasps, as if Ewing had to force the words between his lips. "Made no progress. And then, I tried Formula #53."