“Harper,” said Lathrop. “What are you going to do about Harper?”
“Harper,” declared Elmer, “will leave here in a few days. He will never know what happened. Not even that you were here.”
“Oh, yes, he will,” said Lathrop. “I just talked to him. On my way to see you.”
Elmer writhed uneasily. “That’s impossible. Buster locked him in his room.”
“Locks,” declared Lathrop, “don’t mean a thing to Harper.”
Carter started at the tone of Lathrop’s voice. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Harper,” Lathrop started to say, “is a—” but a scream from the next room cut him short. A scream followed by the snickering of a blaster.
The two men sprang to their feet, stood in breathless silence. Elmer was a streak of fog flashing through the air.
“Come on!” yelled Lathrop. Together the two humans followed Elmer, who had faded through the door.
Starlight from the tall windows lit the other room with spangled light and shade. In it figures moved, unreal figures, like trick photography on a stereo vision screen.