"It could never be!"
"It can if I will it!" Tremaine gripped the handles tighter. Let this be THAT night, he thought fiercely. The night in 1901, when Bram's last contact failed. Let it be that night, five minutes before the portal closed. Only this machine and I remain as we are now; outside there are gas lights in the farm houses along the dirt road to Elsby, and in the town horses stand in the stables along the cinder alleys behind the houses; and President McKinley is having dinner in the White House....
There was a sound behind Tremaine. He whirled. The ravaged scene was gone. A great disc mirror stood across the cave, intersecting the limestone wall. A man stepped through it, froze at the sight of Tremaine. He was tall, with curly blond hair, fine-chiseled features, broad shoulders.
"Fdazh ha?" he said. Then his eyes slid past Tremaine, opened still wider in astonishment. Tremaine followed the stranger's glance. A young woman, dressed in a negligee of pale silk, stood in the door, a hair-brush in her hand, her red hair flowing free to her waist. She stood rigid in shock.
Then....
"Mr. Bram...!" she gasped. "What—"
Tremaine found his voice. "Miss Carroll, don't be afraid," he said. "I'm your friend, you must believe me."
Linda Carroll turned wide eyes to him. "Who are you?" she breathed. "I was in my bedroom—"
"I can't explain. A miracle has been worked here tonight ... on your behalf." Tremaine turned to Bram. "Look—" he started.