Машина часу

           ‘What’sthegame?’saidtheJournalist. ‘HashebeendoingtheAmateurCadger? Idon’tfollow.’ ImettheeyeofthePsychologist,andreadmyowninterpretationinhisface. IthoughtoftheTimeTravellerlimpingpainfullyupstairs. Idon’tthinkanyoneelsehadnoticedhislameness. 

           ThefirsttorecovercompletelyfromthissurprisewastheMedicalMan,whorangthebell—theTimeTravellerhatedtohaveservantswaitingatdinner—forahotplate. AtthattheEditorturnedtohisknifeandforkwithagrunt,andtheSilentManfollowedsuit. Thedinnerwasresumed. Conversationwasexclamatoryforalittlewhile,withgapsofwonderment; andthentheEditorgotferventinhiscuriosity. ‘Doesourfriendekeouthismodestincomewithacrossing? orhashehisNebuchadnezzarphases?’heinquired. ‘Ifeelassuredit’sthisbusinessoftheTimeMachine,’Isaid,andtookupthePsychologist’saccountofourpreviousmeeting. Thenewguestswerefranklyincredulous. TheEditorraisedobjections. ‘Whatwasthistimetravelling?Amancouldn’tcoverhimselfwithdustbyrollinginaparadox,couldhe?’ Andthen,astheideacamehometohim,heresortedtocaricature. Hadn’ttheyanyclothes-brushesintheFuture? TheJournalisttoo,wouldnotbelieveatanyprice,andjoinedtheEditorintheeasyworkofheapingridiculeonthewholething. Theywereboththenewkindofjournalist—veryjoyous,irreverentyoungmen. ‘OurSpecialCorrespondentintheDayafterTo-morrowreports,’theJournalistwassaying—orrathershouting—whentheTimeTravellercameback. Hewasdressedinordinaryeveningclothes,andnothingsavehishaggardlookremainedofthechangethathadstartledme. 

           ‘Isay,’saidtheEditorhilariously,‘thesechapsheresayyouhavebeentravellingintothemiddleofnextweek! TellusallaboutlittleRosebery,willyou? Whatwillyoutakeforthelot?’ 

           TheTimeTravellercametotheplacereservedforhimwithoutaword.