"You think I'm crazy?" Lin said. "Hugo Fairchild came to get that paper didn't he? And I have it. Fairchild's waiting outside the hospital for me—or you—to come out with it, too. I saw him from my room."
"How...." Dorothy said weakly. "How did you get over into that—that other world?"
"I don't know," Lin said. "I just did, that's all."
"Then ... then Hugo Fairchild is from this other world?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Lin said.
"But it's too late for it to do him any good now, isn't it?" she persisted. "The accident is over. We weren't killed."
Lin shook his head slowly. "It isn't too late, or he wouldn't want it. Don't you see? We, you and I, can't die until he gets it. That's why he wants it. Since it's written on it that we died in that crash, the moment it burns we'll be back where we were when I snatched that paper from the flames, and we'll die in that accident. Then all this, our being in the hospital and all, will never have happened!"
It was the next day. Dorothy had come to Lin's room. She was peeking out the window at Fairchild down on the sidewalk.
"What will we do, Lin?" she asked, turning to him. "We can't hope to fight him. He must have supernatural powers, or he couldn't have caused us to recover so miraculously."