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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..093ae23 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66210 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66210) diff --git a/old/66210-0.txt b/old/66210-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index eaf6e18..0000000 --- a/old/66210-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1462 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Repeat Performance, by Rog Phillips - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Repeat Performance - -Author: Rog Phillips - -Release Date: September 3, 2021 [eBook #66210] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPEAT PERFORMANCE *** - - - - - - REPEAT PERFORMANCE - - By Rog Phillips - - The little man knew Ben had been murdered; - the trouble was, Ben was still alive! Could the - future be wrong--or merely a dress rehearsal? - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - January 1954 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The pounding at the door woke me up. I groped for the light. It flooded -the room, erasing the glow of the afternoon sun through the drapes. The -clock said three-thirty. - -"Come on, Benny! Open up!" a gruff voice ordered. - -I groaned as I recognized the voice. As I went to the door I hastily -reviewed last night's activities. Two wallets on the subway that had -netted seventeen bucks, one in an elevator at the Morrison that had -added forty-five bucks. An all night crap game near the Wilson El that -had nearly cleaned me.... - -"Come in, Calahan," I said cheerfully to the cop. "A social visit--I -hope?" - -Calahan grinned mirthlessly at my little joke. I got dressed. An hour -later I was shoved into line with a dozen others. We knew what to do. -We walked single file onto the stage, then faced a screen. We couldn't -see beyond it because it was dark there, and floodlights from the floor -and the ceiling blinded us. - -"That's the man!" a woman's voice said excitedly. - -My stomach did a flip flop. Who did she mean? Me? I looked at the -others in the line-up. Joey North was looking sick. The others just -looked uneasy, like I felt. Poor Joey.... - -On the sidewalk outside the station I lit a cigarette with shaking -fingers. I hated the whole system. They take you down in a car. You -walk home. If you get out. Suddenly I was sick of Chicago, and when I -get sick of Chicago I go somewhere. - -Night found me at the counter in a drugstore in Evanston. I was -beginning to feel better. I had a newspaper and a cup of coffee in -front of me. - -I'd read everything else, so I started reading the society stuff. A lot -of it was Evanston. A bosom-type matron smirked at me from one of the -pictures. Under the picture it said she was Mrs. Sarah Fish, Evanston -society leader. I started to read more. Then this little guy came into -the drugstore. - -"A package of Camels," he said to the cashier. - -He sensed my stare. I looked quickly down at my paper and casually took -a sip of coffee. But I wasn't interested in the news now. Out of the -corner of my eye I studied the little man. He wasn't more than five -feet tall, very slim, and very erect. I got the strange impression of -looking at a small giant. Then I realized what caused that impression. -It was his head. It was more the right size for a man six feet tall. - -"That will be twenty cents," the baldish cashier said. - -The little man handed him a bill he had been holding in his hand. "By -the way," he said as the cashier rang up the twenty cents, "Could you -tell me the way to the Sarah Fish residence?" I pricked up my ears at -that. - -"Why yes," the cashier said. "You go down to the stop sign and turn -right two blocks. It's the big white place set back from the street, -with a wide driveway that goes back to a four car garage. Let's see -now. That was twenty cents. Twenty-five, fifty, one. Two, three. There -you are. Don't forget, the big white house." - -"Thank you," the little man said. - -I watched him go to the door. It wasn't until he was out of sight that -I did a double take. - -"Hey!" I said to the cashier. "What kind of a bill did that little guy -give you?" - -"Why, a--a--Oh good Lord." - -I slid out of my seat at the counter and leaned over the cigar counter -as the cashier rang up a no sale. He picked out the bill and held it in -limp fingers. I took it and spread it on the glass counter. - - * * * * * - -It was a three dollar bill. There was a picture of Truman on it. I -turned it over. On the back was a picture of an atomic mushroom cloud -with a series of ellipses interlocking to form the popular conception -of an atom. - -It looked like real money. It had the feel of real money. - -"Well," the cashier said philosophically. "I guess I'm out three -dollars. His talking was what threw me off." - -I picked up the three dollar bill and squinted at the fine print. It -said _Series of 1964_. The date on my newspaper on the counter beside -my cold coffee was April 5, 1954. - -"I'll tell you what I'll do," I said. "I'll give you three dollars for -it." - -"Oh no!" the cashier said quickly. "I can't do that. The law says I -must turn all counterfeit money directly over to the nearest F.B.I. -office." - -"Sure," I soothed. "Sure, I know that. But this isn't the same thing. -A counterfeit is an imitation of real money--and there aren't any real -three dollar bills." - -The cashier chuckled suddenly. "By gollies you're right," he said. -"That means I can keep it. Think I will. I'm going to deposit it in the -bank tomorrow morning. Just for a laugh. Ned Sparks'll fall off his -high stool when he sees it." - -"I'll give you three and a half for it," I said. - -But I was already turning away as he shook his head. I knew the only -way to get a three dollar bill was to catch up with the little man. - -Outside the drugstore I looked up the street the way the little man had -gone. He wasn't in sight. I saw the stop sign a block away, and hurried -toward it. - -It was Lincoln Avenue, in a part of Evanston that was just like a -small town set off by itself, downstate instead of a northern suburb -of Chicago. I followed the directions the cashier had given the little -man. Turn right two blocks. - -I still hadn't seen the little man by the time I reached the big white -house with the four car garage. The house itself had one of those -old colonial porches with six pillars holding up a porch roof with -unnecessary solidity. Between the pillars brightly lit huge windows -brought a clear view of the interior. - -A party of some sort was going on. That's the way it looked. People -standing in small groups holding glasses. - -I hesitated. I wanted a three dollar bill, but was it worth it, to go -up to the door and ask for someone I didn't know? I decided it was, and -went up the walk as though I belonged there. - -Beside the huge door was a button. I pushed it, and heard a series of -chimes ring out. A few seconds later the massive door swung open and a -middle aged man with a jovial expression said, "Come in, come in. I'm -George Wile. Sarah's somewhere. What's your name? Sorry I can't keep -track of all of Sarah's friends." - -"Ben Smith," I said, stepping inside. - -"Sarah'll show up in a minute," George Wile said, and promptly forgot -me. - -That was okay by me. I stood by the door looking around, trying to spot -the little man. A gorgeous young thing held a tray in front of my face -until I took a tall glass that contained, I discovered, an excellent -Tom Collins. - -I couldn't see the little man anywhere. I mosied across the room to the -archway to another room where there were more people. He wasn't there -either. - -A distinguished appearing man seemed to be the center of attraction -here. I edged into the crowd around him and finally deduced that he had -earlier given a book review or lecture or something, and this was the -refreshment period before everyone went home. - -Still no sign of the little man. - -Suddenly a sharp rapping sounded. I turned my head. A woman with a -large bust was pounding a gavel on the small stand. Around me the buzz -of conversation dropped off into silence. - -"Is there a Mr. Ben Smith here?" she asked. - -"He's here somewhere, Sarah," George Wile's voice sounded loudly. -"Where are you, Ben old boy?" - -I was too startled to speak for a second or two. Then I said, "Yes!" - -Sarah Fish separated me from the crowd with her eyes, then came toward -me. There seemed to be concern, a mixture of pity, and something else -in her expression. When she reached me she said in a low voice, "Please -come with me, Mr. Smith." - -No one was paying attention to us. The conversational murmur was -on again. I followed her into the front room and around to a door -underneath the stairs that arched up to a balcony. - - * * * * * - -She opened the door and stood aside for me to go in. There was still -that strange something in her expression. I tried to place it, then -went past her into the room. - -The little man was there, standing across the room against a back-drop -of shelves filled with books. His piercing eyes flicked at me. Then he -lifted his arm and examined his wristwatch. - -"Right on the second," he said, a shade of disappointment in his tone. -"I'd hoped this time you'd be off a few seconds." He lowered his arm -and advanced toward me, hand outstretched politely. "I'm Sam Golfin," -he said. "I want to ask you some questions, Benny. And this time I hope -I get the right answers." - -I ignored his hand. "How'd you know my name?" I demanded. "How'd you -know I came here?" - -"Oh dear," Sarah Fish said. "I _don't_ know how to tell him, Sam. -You'll have to." - -Sam Golfin gave her a sympathetic glance, then looked grim. "This -time," he said, fixing me with a stare, "I'm not going to try to spare -your feelings. In--" He studied his watch again. "--exactly one hour -and seventeen minutes you are going to be murdered. A man doesn't just -get murdered without knowing who might have done it, who his enemies -are. Someone in this house is going to kill you. _Who is it?_" - -"You see," Sarah Fish said, her bosom expanding in an anxious breath, -"you _must_ tell us who did it." - -I stared at them both, then gave what I intended to be a derisive -laugh, but it sounded thin. "What makes you think I'm going to be -murdered?" I said. - -"For one thing," Sam Golfin said cautiously, "it's in tomorrow's -papers." - -"Oh, I see," I said sarcastically. - -"I know you must think I'm joking...." Golfin said. - -"Hardly," I said. And it was the truth. I thought he was crazy. - -"I'm glad you don't," Sam Golfin said with relief. "Every minute counts -if we are to save you." - -"Save me?" I mocked. "But I thought you said it was in the papers. So -it must be true." - -"I'm not so sure," Golfin said with an important frown. "I'm not so -sure the future can't be altered. That's why I'm here. I want to see if -I can change the future. If I can...." He left whatever thought he was -toying with unspoken. - -A sudden thought shattered my amused point of view. That three dollar -bill. It had been a _Series of 1964_, something utterly absurd by -itself. But coupled with Sam Golfin's obvious conviction that I was -going to be murdered, and his talk of changing the future, it made a -pattern that made me suddenly uneasy. - -"Why would anyone here kill me?" I asked with a defiance that covered -my unease. "I don't even know anyone here. As a matter of fact, the -reason I came here was to--" - -"But someone here knows you," Golfin said. "And that someone knew you -were going to be here. The murder was--will be--carefully planned." - -"Just how am I going to be murdered?" I asked, not grinning. - -"The coroner's report says that you were--will be--poisoned," Golfin -said. - -I thought of the Tom Collins, and my stomach turned over. - -"A venom," Golfin went on, "injected by means of a pin or needle. The -coroner found--will find, that is--a small puncture in the small of -your back on the right side, with some of the venom still imbedded, -along with the paste." - -"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," I said. "I'm getting out of -here." I turned toward the door. - -"Wait!" Sarah Fish said. "Mr. Golfin says it will happen when you try -to leave." - -My momentum left me as my hand touched the doorknob. It flowed out of -me. I turned around and faced them. - -"Just how do you know all this?" I said, glaring at the little man. - -"I suppose I had better tell you," he said. "I'm _Dr._ Golfin." - -"Oh," I said. - - * * * * * - -He reached into his breast pocket and extracted an expensive leather -billfold. Looking quite important for his size, he took out a card and -extended it to me. - -"My specialty is--has been," he said, "amnesiacs. I've made a life -study of them." - -I looked at the card. It gave the name, Dr. S. L. Golfin, and an -address on Wabash, Chicago. - -"The phenomenon of amnesia interested me," he went on. "A person -suddenly can't remember anything. Perhaps years later memory returns, -but there is a gap. Why?" - -He smiled at me triumphantly. Sarah Fish nodded sagely. - -"Because...." Golfin lifted his left arm with a flourish and inspected -his watch. "One hour and three minutes," he said quietly. Then, -"That was the question I asked myself. Why? Unfortunately amnesia is -rather rare. The few genuine cases didn't give me enough opportunity -to find the answer. I did, however, arrive at several theories about -it. And finally I came to the conclusion that amnesia is part of a -larger field. I expanded my research to include other phenomena -such as prophetic dreams. I was sure I was on the right track, but -unfortunately it was impossible to study a person in the process of -having a prophetic dream." - -"I can see that," I said sympathetically. - -"Exactly," Golfin said, blinking up at me. "However, I asked myself, -'Of the several theories, wouldn't the one that also accounts for -prophetic dreams be the more probable one?' And of course it's well -known that the more a theory explains, the more probable it is of being -true." - -"Not always," I ventured. - -He pondered this, then looked at his watch again. "Fifty-three -minutes," he said. - -I swallowed. - -"But how do amnesia and prophetic dreams tie together?" I asked. - -"They are basically the same phenomenon," Golfin said, "with one -important difference. In amnesia the conscious mind jumps over a period -of time and stays there, going on in normal fashion. In prophetic -dreams it does the same, _except that it returns to its starting -point_." - -I glanced at Sarah Fish. She was listening intently. It occurred to me -that she hadn't heard any of this before either. She was the congenial -type. Undoubtedly when Golfin had sprung this murder business on her -she hadn't asked questions. - -"Now do you see what I'm getting at?" Golfin said. "The mechanism must -be the same in both instances. An underlying mechanism. In amnesia a -person may suffer a brain injury, or a person may be under a terrific -compulsion to escape the present. In either case the person jumps over -a period of days or years in, seemingly, an instant--and refuses to -return. In prophetic dreams the person jumps into the future to an -instant when something crucial is taking place, and returns to the -present with memory of it." - -I looked at my own watch and said, "Any other time I would like to -listen, but what are you driving at?" - - * * * * * - -He frowned and glanced at his watch. "Forty-one minutes," he said. -"This is what I'm driving at. If I could discover the mechanism by -which the mind leaps into the future, and returns, I would have a -means of doing that myself. I could, possibly, go to tomorrow and -buy a newspaper and see what it says, and return to today with that -knowledge." - -"I see now!" Sarah Fish said, quivering with excitement. "That's how -you learned that Mr. Smith is to be murdered!" - -"So you did discover a way?" I said. - -"I did. That's why I'm here. For some time now I have been going into -the future at will, and also into the past. I've learned how to control -it, the length of time I stay there, and just how far into the future -or the past I go." - -"It sounds good," I admitted. "How could you change things?" - -He glanced at his watch worriedly. "We haven't much time," he said. -"A little over half an hour. What I want to do is this. I have the -instruments with me to send you into the future to the moment you -are dying. I want you to go there and see if you don't know then -who killed you, and how. You will return to the present moment with -that knowledge, and be able to avoid death. At least--" He smiled -encouragingly. "At least I hope you will." - -"And if I don't?" - -He shrugged. "This is my first serious attempt to change the past. -Sooner or later I will succeed." He had reached into his breast pocket -again. Now he brought out something like a fat fountain pen. - -"I don't know," I said uneasily. "You sure this doesn't hurt?" - -He unscrewed the end of the thing. There was a short hollow needle on -it, with what looked like a trigger that had swung out into position -against the side. - -"I've used it on myself many times," he said. He started toward me. - -"Wait a minute," I said, backing up a step and holding up my hand. -"This is going to take me up to the instant I'm dying?" - -"That's right," he said, "and I want you to try, in that single instant -you are there, to find out who did it. Think where you were when it -happened, and who might have done it." - -"You sure it won't kill me?" I asked. - -He took another step toward me. "Of course not," he said. - -"Wait a minute," I said, backing up against a bookcase to get away from -him. "Why didn't you go farther ahead in time and read in the papers -who did it? Wouldn't that have been the best way?" - -For a brief instant his eyes flashed with what seemed to me to be -madness. I thought of the three dollar bill. The guy was crazy. It -had to be that. He'd been using the stuff on himself. Whatever it was -it had affected his mind. He imagined he could send his mind into the -future. Or maybe-- - -I remembered suddenly why I was here. I had followed Golfin in the -hopes of getting one of those three dollar bills. That made it a -vicious circle. Sure. It was _he_ who was going to murder me, if -anyone was. Those other people didn't know me. And he said I was going -to be poisoned by venom on a pin or needle--_or was it going to be a -hypodermic needle_? - -"Don't be afraid, Mr. Smith," Golfin purred. "It's the only hope of -saving your life. Your murder was never solved." - -"Oh, it is, is it?" I gritted. I snaked out with my hand and wrapped -my fingers around the wrist of the hand that held the needle. "Give me -that thing," I said. - -He struggled. He had a lot of strength for a little man. He pivoted -around and tried to pull his wrist free. With his other hand he tried -to get hold of the needle. I kept shaking his wrist to keep him from -doing it. - -Then I remembered his expensive billfold. It probably had the three -dollar bills in it. I simply reached into his breast pocket and -appropriated it. He didn't know it was gone. - -A second later, with a loud grunt, he twisted violently in a last -effort to get free. I heard a sharp snap, and at the same time I felt a -sharp pain stab into me. - -It was in the small of my back on the right side. _The small of my back -on the right side!_ - -I let go of his wrist. He was just starting to jerk again, and my -letting go made him stagger backwards and fall against the bookcase on -the far wall. He didn't even know his gadget had gone off! - -I did, though. And a strange fatalism was seeping into me, like the -emotional effect of a drug. A numbness was beginning to make itself -felt along my right side. - -Sarah Fish was staring at me, her eyes large and round. Not like a fish -though. Too human, too full of concern and sympathy. Maybe she had seen -the needle stick me.... - -Funny ... Golfin came here convinced in his own insane way that he was -going to prevent a murder. If he hadn't come, I wouldn't have come -either. And if he hadn't come, there wouldn't have been a corpse.... - - * * * * * - -I looked around until I found the door, and headed toward it. My right -leg dragged a little as I walked. And I didn't need to go into the -future to know what was going to happen. I would make it to the door. -Sure. I would open it, and walk through the crowd outside toward the -front door. Before I got there I would die. Golfin would never know, -maybe, that it was his drug that had killed me. Sarah Fish, convinced -by the way it happened that Golfin had been right, would insist to the -police that I was okay when I left her. - -I could stop right where I was and die in this room. My hand gripped -the doorknob and twisted, and the door opened. And I knew I wasn't -going to stay in this room. I was going to try to get to the front door. - -My whole right side was numb now. I had to walk slowly. Even then I -wasn't sure of my next step. And with each step the massive front door -seemed farther away. - -_I wasn't going to make it._ - -I bumped into someone--or someone bumped into me. I jerked my head -around with a snarl starting on my lips. It was George Wile. - -"Sorry old boy," he apologized. "I didn't see you." - -I blinked at him, an idea forming. Maybe if I could change -something--any little thing--I could save myself. What could I change? -I didn't know, because I didn't know whether even the change I might -make would be part of the future. Still.... - -"'Sall right, ol' boy," I said, bumping against him. And my hands moved -fast. My own wallet went into his pocket, and his went into mine. - -I stepped back, grinning. I had at least done something to confuse the -issues. I would leave that puzzle behind me. It wouldn't fool anyone -though, because they would know who I was. Sarah Fish and Sam Golfin. - -My heart was starting to pound painfully. Panic flooded into me. I had -to reach that front door. I had to! It was already open, and people -were going through it, leaving the party. The distinguished appearing -man was standing there shaking hands with them as they left. - -Where was I supposed to drop dead? I wished I had asked Golfin that. I -took another step, and another. And, unbelieving, I was at the door. - -"Glad you could be here," the distinguished appearing man said, -gripping my hand and letting it go. - -He had turned to the next person, and I was standing there, my heart -pounding, expecting to drop. Somebody pushed against me gently and -said, "Pardon me." I put my hand on the door frame and put one foot -over the threshold. I was still standing. - -I let go the door frame and put the other foot over the threshold. I -was standing on the porch. I sucked in a breath. It was too good to be -true. There was a catch to it somewhere. But-- - -I took another step. Eager haste possessed me. I took quick steps off -the porch. I was on the sidewalk. I was still alive! - -And somewhere I had lost the numbness in my side. - -Around me people were getting in their cars, the doors slamming shut -softly. I glanced over my shoulder. More people were coming out of the -house. - -I waited for no more. Almost running, I went the two blocks to the stop -sign and turned toward the drugstore. - -"Made it," I said under my voice as I pushed open the door and went in. -I slid into the same seat I had occupied before. The same counter girl -took my order for coffee. "Black this time," I said. "And where's my -paper?" - -My heart wasn't pounding any more. I was still shaky, but there wasn't -a chance of my dying. Not a chance. I grinned to myself. - -My coffee came. Also a paper. I sipped the coffee and tried to get -interested in the paper. But I kept going back to what had happened. - -Then I heard the sound of police sirens. They approached until they -were just outside. I looked out and saw the police cars turn the -corner, going in the direction of the house where I had been. - -So someone had died after all! - - * * * * * - -I reached under my coat and touched the spot where the needle had -struck me. It was a little sore, but not enough to bother me. - -Who had been killed? George Wile? Suddenly I remembered the exchange -of wallets I had made. I reached into my hip pocket and took out his -wallet. - -I looked in the money compartment and saw I had enriched myself by -twenty dollars. Grinning, I looked in another pocket of the wallet. -There was a package of needles. My grin wiped off. They were ordinary -sewing needles. But the pointed ends were covered with what seemed to -be gray paint. - -The counter girl was at the far end scrubbing the counter. The baldish -cashier was on the other side of the store behind a counter, waiting on -a man and a woman. I took Golfin's billfold and quickly thumbed through -it. - -There were several of the three dollar bills. There were two ones. And -there were five twenty dollar bills. I shoved all the money into my -pocket except one of the three dollar bills. - -I made sure no one was looking my way, and dropped Golfin's billfold -on the floor, kicking it under the counter behind me in the center -aisle where it wouldn't be found unless the janitor swept under there. -I decided to do the same with Wile's. After all, if Sam Golfin were -right, and there was a murder, I didn't want a couple of strange -wallets on me. Nor those coated needles. - -I looked at the three dollar bill in my hand. It was like that other -one. Picture of Truman on it, atomic mushroom on the other side, with -the atom superimposed. I squinted at the fine print. _Series of 1958._ - -That made me frown. Why would someone bother to change the date on -phony money? And it was too nice a job of engraving for such a thing -too. - -I thought of one of the tests for good money. I rubbed the three dollar -bill against the margin of the newspaper. Some of the ink came off. - -The wild theory Golfin had fed me was tame compared to what I was -beginning to suspect. I took out the rest of his money and picked out a -twenty dollar bill. Putting the rest back in my pocket, I studied the -twenty. I rubbed it against the margin of the newspaper. Ink came off. -It was genuine money. - -Taking a deep breath, I squinted at the fine print. _Series of 1964._ - -I looked at the rest of the money I had taken from Golfin. The two ones -were okay. All the rest had dates in the future. I knew money. I could -spot a phony bill a block away. It was real money. - -Either a master counterfeiter had--Another thought struck me. I -compared the serial numbers of the bills. All different. That clinched -it. They weren't phony. - -That meant that Golfin was _actually from the future himself_. Then why -had he given me and Sarah Fish that story about prophetic dreams and -amnesia? I thought about that a bit and nodded to myself. He wanted to -give us something we could believe. We wouldn't have believed a raw -statement that he was from the future. Those three dollar bills.... - - * * * * * - -The more I thought about them the less they seemed like a gag. I tried -to recall every detail of Golfin's passing it when he bought his -cigarettes. He hadn't done it like he was pulling a gag. He had taken -his change and walked out. He didn't know he had done anything wrong. -He had assumed a three dollar bill was used here--or now, rather. - -My coffee was cold. The girl was looking at me as if she wanted to -close up. I smiled at her and tossed a quarter on the counter and went -out on the sidewalk. - -I debated what to do. Should I forget the whole thing? Or should I take -a walk back to Sarah Fish's house and see what was going on? I decided -on the latter. - -Her house was dark. No police cars were there. That was not what I had -expected. With a murder, there should be police cars, and the place -should be lit up. Or maybe not. It had been an hour since I left the -place. - -I went back to the drugstore and caught the bus down to the Davis -Street El station. Riding on the elevated it occurred to me that maybe -I'd better not go to my apartment. If the police had gotten my wallet -from George Wile they might be waiting for me. - -I decided to rent a room for the night and wait until morning. Then -I changed my mind. If I went back to my room I could claim Wile had -picked _my_ pocket. If the police were looking for me they would -eventually get me anyway, since I already had a record of three arrests -for this and that. - -I sighed and relaxed, and after a while the train dipped down into the -subway, and I got off and had a late snack at the corner cafeteria. - -It was almost midnight when I climbed the stairs to my apartment. When -I opened the door the phone was ringing. I turned on the light and -closed the door, and answered it. - -"Ben Smith?" a strange voice said. "This is George Wile." - -"Oh," I said. I did some quick thinking. "Oh!" I said in a different -tone. "I remember you. How'd you know my number. Did you find my -wallet? That must be it. I lost it. Thanks a lot for calling me about -it. I'll meet you tomorrow and get it back." - -"It was in my pocket," he said coldly. "And my own was missing. I want -it back." - -"Yours was missing?" I said. "Hey, wait a minute. If you think I got -it you're crazy. Somebody played a trick on us. There must have been a -pickpocket at Sarah Fish's tonight." - -"There was," he said coldly. "You. I took the trouble of calling the -police and found out. I want my wallet and I want it tonight." - -"I don't have it. No kidding." I said worriedly. "I'm handing you the -straight goods. By the way, what happened after I left? I heard the -police sirens." - -"Someone had called them and said there was a murder. They were pretty -sore about it." - -"And there wasn't? Ha Ha?" I said. - -"Quit stalling, Smith," Wile said. "I want my wallet back. And -everything in it." - -"Haven't got it," I said. - -A long sigh came over the phone. - -"All right," Wile said. "I sort of expected this. I'll give you five -hundred dollars for it." - -I took the phone from my face and stared at it, thinking. Talking -sounds came from the receiver. I put it back to my ear and said, "Come -again? I didn't hear you." - -"You heard me all right," Wile said. "Okay, I can get you two thousand -dollars from the bank tomorrow. Meet me at eleven o'clock at State and -Washington, northeast corner." - -"Okay," I said. "Be sure and bring me _my_ wallet." - -"I will," he said smoothly. His tone became worried. "Is my wallet in a -_safe_ place?" - -"Sure," I said, thinking of the spot under the counter where I had slid -it with my foot. "You don't need to worry about it at all." - -The line was dead. I realized suddenly that he had trapped me into an -admission that I had his wallet. - - * * * * * - -This wasn't the same as a little light finger work on a crowded train, -or getting a rubber check chased, or any of the many things I did when -the opportunity arose, to pay my rent. Wile didn't just want these -poison needles back. He was planning to kill me to keep me quiet. But -he wanted the needles and his wallet back too. First. - -I thought of Golfin and his reading in the papers that I had been -murdered, and it wasn't funny. I locked the door and wedged a chair -under the knob. Wile now knew for sure I was the one who had his -wallet. He could be on his way down to kill me right now. - -I started packing. - -It wasn't until I was almost packed that I suddenly became aware of -someone standing behind me. I jerked around in alarm. It was Sam Golfin. - -"How'd you get in here?" I blurted out. - -"I've been waiting here ever since tomorrow," he said. "I had to see -you." - -I grinned at him thinly. "I didn't get murdered at Sarah's after all," -I remarked dryly. - -"No, thank God," Golfin said. "It proves that the past _can_ be -changed. I'd hoped it could." He frowned. "But unfortunately in -preventing your murder at Sarah's a new future came into existence. I -have to do it all over again." - -"What do you mean?" I asked. - -"Tomorrow when I came to see you, you were in here--dead. The door was -unlocked. That's how I got in." - -"Oh fine!" I snorted. "See what I'm doing? I'm packing. In another five -minutes I'll be on my way to parts unknown." - -"I only wish that were true," Golfin said sadly. - -"Look," I said. "I wish you'd get out and leave me alone. You want to -know why I almost got killed last night?" - -"Yes, I do," Golfin said. "That's something the police couldn't find -out--in that other future, I mean." - -"I'll tell you," I said. "I didn't know anything about Sarah Fish's -place. I probably would never have gone there except for you. You -bought a pack of cigarettes in the drugstore. Remember?" - -Golfin blinked his eyes, then nodded. - -"You paid for them with a three dollar bill." - -"What is wrong with that?" Golfin asked. - -"Nothing," I said slowly, "except that there aren't any three dollar -bills." - -"Oh dear me," Golfin said. "Of course there aren't. It completely -slipped my mind!" - -"I wanted one of those three dollar bills," I said. "The druggist -wouldn't let me have the one you left, so I went to Sarah Fish's place -to find you and get one." - -A knock sounded at the door. - -"It's the man who's going to kill you," Sam said. - -"And there isn't any other way out of here," I said. "How are you going -to get me out of this one?" - -"I don't know," he mused. He looked from me to the door, his eyes -thoughtful. "I'm beginning to see something," he said. "It's very -interesting. So you went to the Fish residence because of me. Hmmm. I -wonder.... It doesn't seem possible, but...." - -"What doesn't seem possible?" I asked. - -He smiled apologetically. "There really isn't anything that can be done -about that man in the hall." The knocking was repeated, more loudly. -"And this future is quite hopeless for you...." - -Whoever was in the hall was trying some kind of key in the lock. - -"If I owned a gun it wouldn't be," I said, watching the door bend in -under pressure from outside. - -"If you only knew who it was!" Golfin groaned. - -"But I do!" I said. - -"You said at Sarah's that you didn't," Golfin snapped. - -"I didn't, then," I said. Quickly I told him about George Wile and the -package of poisoned needles. "He's obviously planning on murdering -someone. Maybe at Sarah's last night," I concluded hastily, my eye on -the door. "My switching wallets with him stopped that. Now he's got to -kill me before he can go ahead with this other murder, or I could put -the finger on him." - -"Why--didn't--you--say--so--before?" Golfin said, glaring at me with -annoyance. - -The door splintered a little, the noise sounding like a shot. I took my -eyes off Golfin to look, and when I looked back Golfin was darting at -me, his hypodermic gadget in his hand and what looked like murder in -his eye. - - * * * * * - -I tried to grab his wrist. This time he was too fast for me. He evaded -my clutch and was behind me before I could turn. I felt a sharp pain -stab at the base of my skull. I started to turn. The room blurred as a -wave of dizziness swept over me.... - -"Here's your coffee, sir." - -I looked at the girl behind the counter, then down at my newspaper. -"Thanks," I said. My stomach felt funny. I felt just like a guy I knew -once who had a premonition he was going to die. Heartburn, I decided -hastily. But I felt nervous. - -I took a sip of the hot coffee and tried to concentrate on the paper. -Then I became aware of the little man. I felt instantly I had seen him -someplace before, but I couldn't place him. - -"A package of Camels," he said to the cashier. - -"That will be twenty cents," the baldish cashier said. - -The little man handed him a bill he had been holding in his hand. "By -the way," he said smoothly as the cashier glanced at it, "could you -tell me the way to Sarah Fish's residence?" - -The little man glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He seemed -to know me, but gave no sign of recognition. The cashier was giving -him directions. I was listening, but I was trying to puzzle out the -strange feeling that I had been through all this before. And it wasn't -until the little man had left that it seeped into my consciousness that -something was queer about that bill. - -"Hey!" I said to the cashier. "What kind of bill did that little guy -give you?" - -"Why, a--a--Oh good Lord." - -We examined it together. It was a three dollar bill. And instead of -surprise, I felt the jaws of a trap closing in on me. I listened to the -cashier babble about playing gags on his friends with it. A part of me -wanted to turn my back on the whole thing and forget it. - -But some force pulled me in the direction the little man had gone. As -I walked I relaxed. I shrugged off the strange feeling I had. I told -myself I didn't believe in premonitions. - -A party of some sort was in full swing at the Sarah Fish place. I -nodded to myself. I could go in and mix with the crowd. I could pick -this little man's pocket. Maybe a few more. The worst that could happen -would be that they wouldn't let me in. - -Beside the huge door was a button. I pressed it and heard a series of -chimes ring out. A few seconds later the door swung open and a middle -aged man with a jovial expression said, "Come in, come in. I'm George -Wile. Sarah's somewhere. What's your name? Sorry I can't keep track of -all Sarah's friends." - -"Ben Smith," I said, stepping inside. - -"Sarah'll show up in a minute," George Wile said, and promptly forgot -me. That was okay by me. I had taken an instant dislike to him. - -I stood near the door looking around, trying to spot the little man. -A gorgeous young thing held a tray in front of my face until I took a -tall glass that contained, I discovered, an excellent Tom Collins. - -Suddenly I saw the little man. He was at the edge of the group -surrounding a distinguished appearing man who was talking. I edged over -near the crowd and sized things up. It would be a cinch. - -I crowded against the little man, then jerked as though someone had -shoved me. At the same time my free hand snaked in and got his wallet. - -"Sorry," I murmured. "Someone pushed me." - -The little man looked up at me and smiled. And I had a strange feeling -that he had been expecting it. I could have sworn he even knew I had -his wallet, and was laughing at me. - -There was one obvious answer. He was a cop and he knew me. He'd take -his time and get me with the goods. He didn't look like a cop but-- - -I looked for him and he had disappeared. - -I tried to locate him, meanwhile sipping my Collins as though I -belonged here. Then I did something I always do unconsciously as a -matter of habit. I felt in my hip pocket to make sure my own wallet -hadn't been stolen by some other pickpocket. It was gone! - -So that was it! The little man was a pickpocket. I thought I had seen -him someplace before! I grinned suddenly, wondering if he had really -missed his billfold yet. - - * * * * * - -I kept looking for him. Then things happened fast. I saw the little man -sliding away from the man who had let me into the house. George Wile. -I took a step after the little man. My eyes jerked back to George when -he uttered a scream and clutched at his back. He fell forward, his arms -and legs jerking. - -I pulled my eyes away, searching for the little man. A crowd was -rushing around George Wile. I heard someone--a woman--scream, "My God! -He's dead!" - -I saw the little man at the front door. He slipped out as I pushed -through the crowd toward him. I went as fast as I dared. When I reached -the sidewalk I saw him running toward the drugstore. - -I ran after him, gaining rapidly. He looked over his shoulder and saw -me. Then-- - -He just vanished. Right in front of my eyes. He couldn't have darted -off the walk into the bushes. - -I stopped, not believing my eyes, and started searching the lawns -carefully. A couple of minutes later I heard sirens coming toward this -part of town. - -I hid between two houses and watched the police cars pull up in front -of Sarah Fish's place. Then I went to the bus line. - -A few hours later, after a lot of riding around town I climbed up to -the sidewalk from the subway. A night extra was being shouted. - -"Big murdah in Evanston!" - -And I knew before I read the paper that it would give my name as the -murdered man. Premonition. I was beginning to believe in it now. - -I went to an all night cafe and ordered a hamburger plate and read the -paper. They had identified the victim by the wallet they found on him. -My wallet, of course. And that meant that the little man had planted it -on him and then killed him. With a poisoned needle the papers said. - -Why? - -I gave up trying to figure it out after a while and went to my -apartment. I had made up my mind to get out of town. They might find -out the victim's real identity, and then they would come looking for me -to find out why my wallet was on him. - -I locked the door and began packing clothes into a suitcase. I became -aware after a while of someone standing behind me. I jerked around in -alarm. It was the little man. - -"You!" I blurted. "How'd you get in here?" I doubled a fist and started -toward him. He had killed a man and planted my wallet on the corpse. - -Then, suddenly, a queer distortion blanketed my mind. I had a strange -conviction that things were happening just the way they had happened -before--many times before--only not at different times, but this very -instant. - -Abruptly, like a veil drawing away from a window, the distortion -vanished. With preternatural clarity everything that had happened -flooded into memory. - -"Good!" Golfin said. "I see the time-lines have emerged as true -memories. And this time I saved your life." - -"You think so?" I snarled. "The police will be after me by morning. -They'll pin the murder on me--the murder _you_ committed." - -He was shaking his head. "I didn't kill George Wile. Let me explain -what happened. But go on with your packing. I can talk while you work." - -I nodded. - -"In the first time-line," Golfin said, "the one I started out to -investigate, you were actually killed. I know now how it happened. You -see, Sarah Fish is a blackmailer. George Wile was one of her victims. -To get out of her clutches he had planned on killing her. It was a -perfect setup for him. Several of her blackmail victims were there. -All he had to do was stick her with the poisoned needle and sit back. -Nothing could be pinned on him. Motive? A dozen of those present had -equal motives. - -"But you were there. A pickpocket. You lifted his wallet. He wouldn't -have felt your light touch ordinarily, but he was acutely conscious of -those spare poisoned needles. He had one in his fingers. Within a few -moments Sarah would have been killed. You changed things. He killed you -instead, and in the excitement stole back his wallet. And of course he -didn't go through with his original plan to kill Sarah Fish. And also -of course, the police never solved your murder. That's why I chose it -in my first attempt to change the past. It was an ideal mystery. I -could solve it and at the same time save your life. - -"I went into the past and watched your every move. But George Wile was -too smart. Even watching I couldn't find out who had done it. So I went -back into the past again and began my great experiment, _an attempt to -alter what has already happened_. - -"I succeeded--but not the way I had hoped. There is an inertia to -events. That inertia in events made you steal his wallet the second -time--and plant your own on him. You left before he discovered the -switch. He came after you to kill you here. It was then you gave me the -identity of your killer. After that I went back to my original point -again. At the proper time I did what you had done. I picked George -Wile's pocket. He felt me do it. Again--the inertia of events--he -tried to stick me with the poisoned needle. But I was ready for him. I -deflected his hand and shoved. He stuck himself." - - * * * * * - -Golfin grinned. "Sure I planted your wallet on him. But who can say -whether it was my own free will or the inertia of events that made me -do it? The morning papers will carry the story exactly the same as it -was in the first time-line. A tremendous inertia of a single event." - -"But what about me?" I said wildly. "The police will check. They'll -know he isn't me." - -Golfin shrugged. "I doubt it," he said. "My guess is that Sarah will -identify him as you and keep quiet. To protect her racket, George -will be buried as Ben Smith. George Wile's relatives will report him -missing. He'll never be found. 'Your' murder will remain unsolved." - -"I'm getting out anyway," I said. "I don't want to chance it." - -"Then why not come with me?" Golfin said. "Now that I know I can change -the past I'm going to start doing it in earnest." - -"Go with you?" I said. - -"You could work for me," Golfin said persuasively. "I would pay you -far more than you average picking pockets, and it would be far more -exciting work." - -"Say...." I said thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea. I guess I owe -you something, too, for saving my life." I nodded. "Okay. But where do -we go?" - -"Not where," Sam Golfin said. "To when. We're going to my present--a -future year not too far removed from 1954." - -He took out his hypodermic gadget and came toward me. I retreated -a step, then stood still, the palms of my hands suddenly wet with -perspiration. - -"Good boy," he said. "It won't hurt much." - - * * * * * - -I went into the drugstore and up to the cigar counter. "A pack of -Camels," I said to the cashier. I took out a three dollar bill and -handed it to him as he slid the pack toward me. - -"Fifty cents out of three dollars," he said absently. - -I nodded, thinking of the first time I had seen a three dollar bill. - -That was a long time ago, as time goes. Back in fifty-four. I was a -pickpocket then, in case you want to know. Now--I'm working for Sam -Golfin. - -Investigations. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Repeat Performance</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Rog Phillips</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 3, 2021 [eBook #66210]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPEAT PERFORMANCE ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>REPEAT PERFORMANCE</h1> - -<h2>By Rog Phillips</h2> - -<p>The little man knew Ben had been murdered;<br /> -the trouble was, Ben was still alive! Could the<br /> -future be wrong—or merely a dress rehearsal?</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -January 1954<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The pounding at the door woke me up. I groped for the light. It flooded -the room, erasing the glow of the afternoon sun through the drapes. The -clock said three-thirty.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Benny! Open up!" a gruff voice ordered.</p> - -<p>I groaned as I recognized the voice. As I went to the door I hastily -reviewed last night's activities. Two wallets on the subway that had -netted seventeen bucks, one in an elevator at the Morrison that had -added forty-five bucks. An all night crap game near the Wilson El that -had nearly cleaned me....</p> - -<p>"Come in, Calahan," I said cheerfully to the cop. "A social visit—I -hope?"</p> - -<p>Calahan grinned mirthlessly at my little joke. I got dressed. An hour -later I was shoved into line with a dozen others. We knew what to do. -We walked single file onto the stage, then faced a screen. We couldn't -see beyond it because it was dark there, and floodlights from the floor -and the ceiling blinded us.</p> - -<p>"That's the man!" a woman's voice said excitedly.</p> - -<p>My stomach did a flip flop. Who did she mean? Me? I looked at the -others in the line-up. Joey North was looking sick. The others just -looked uneasy, like I felt. Poor Joey....</p> - -<p>On the sidewalk outside the station I lit a cigarette with shaking -fingers. I hated the whole system. They take you down in a car. You -walk home. If you get out. Suddenly I was sick of Chicago, and when I -get sick of Chicago I go somewhere.</p> - -<p>Night found me at the counter in a drugstore in Evanston. I was -beginning to feel better. I had a newspaper and a cup of coffee in -front of me.</p> - -<p>I'd read everything else, so I started reading the society stuff. A lot -of it was Evanston. A bosom-type matron smirked at me from one of the -pictures. Under the picture it said she was Mrs. Sarah Fish, Evanston -society leader. I started to read more. Then this little guy came into -the drugstore.</p> - -<p>"A package of Camels," he said to the cashier.</p> - -<p>He sensed my stare. I looked quickly down at my paper and casually took -a sip of coffee. But I wasn't interested in the news now. Out of the -corner of my eye I studied the little man. He wasn't more than five -feet tall, very slim, and very erect. I got the strange impression of -looking at a small giant. Then I realized what caused that impression. -It was his head. It was more the right size for a man six feet tall.</p> - -<p>"That will be twenty cents," the baldish cashier said.</p> - -<p>The little man handed him a bill he had been holding in his hand. "By -the way," he said as the cashier rang up the twenty cents, "Could you -tell me the way to the Sarah Fish residence?" I pricked up my ears at -that.</p> - -<p>"Why yes," the cashier said. "You go down to the stop sign and turn -right two blocks. It's the big white place set back from the street, -with a wide driveway that goes back to a four car garage. Let's see -now. That was twenty cents. Twenty-five, fifty, one. Two, three. There -you are. Don't forget, the big white house."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," the little man said.</p> - -<p>I watched him go to the door. It wasn't until he was out of sight that -I did a double take.</p> - -<p>"Hey!" I said to the cashier. "What kind of a bill did that little guy -give you?"</p> - -<p>"Why, a—a—Oh good Lord."</p> - -<p>I slid out of my seat at the counter and leaned over the cigar counter -as the cashier rang up a no sale. He picked out the bill and held it in -limp fingers. I took it and spread it on the glass counter.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a three dollar bill. There was a picture of Truman on it. I -turned it over. On the back was a picture of an atomic mushroom cloud -with a series of ellipses interlocking to form the popular conception -of an atom.</p> - -<p>It looked like real money. It had the feel of real money.</p> - -<p>"Well," the cashier said philosophically. "I guess I'm out three -dollars. His talking was what threw me off."</p> - -<p>I picked up the three dollar bill and squinted at the fine print. It -said <i>Series of 1964</i>. The date on my newspaper on the counter beside -my cold coffee was April 5, 1954.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you what I'll do," I said. "I'll give you three dollars for -it."</p> - -<p>"Oh no!" the cashier said quickly. "I can't do that. The law says I -must turn all counterfeit money directly over to the nearest F.B.I. -office."</p> - -<p>"Sure," I soothed. "Sure, I know that. But this isn't the same thing. -A counterfeit is an imitation of real money—and there aren't any real -three dollar bills."</p> - -<p>The cashier chuckled suddenly. "By gollies you're right," he said. -"That means I can keep it. Think I will. I'm going to deposit it in the -bank tomorrow morning. Just for a laugh. Ned Sparks'll fall off his -high stool when he sees it."</p> - -<p>"I'll give you three and a half for it," I said.</p> - -<p>But I was already turning away as he shook his head. I knew the only -way to get a three dollar bill was to catch up with the little man.</p> - -<p>Outside the drugstore I looked up the street the way the little man had -gone. He wasn't in sight. I saw the stop sign a block away, and hurried -toward it.</p> - -<p>It was Lincoln Avenue, in a part of Evanston that was just like a -small town set off by itself, downstate instead of a northern suburb -of Chicago. I followed the directions the cashier had given the little -man. Turn right two blocks.</p> - -<p>I still hadn't seen the little man by the time I reached the big white -house with the four car garage. The house itself had one of those -old colonial porches with six pillars holding up a porch roof with -unnecessary solidity. Between the pillars brightly lit huge windows -brought a clear view of the interior.</p> - -<p>A party of some sort was going on. That's the way it looked. People -standing in small groups holding glasses.</p> - -<p>I hesitated. I wanted a three dollar bill, but was it worth it, to go -up to the door and ask for someone I didn't know? I decided it was, and -went up the walk as though I belonged there.</p> - -<p>Beside the huge door was a button. I pushed it, and heard a series of -chimes ring out. A few seconds later the massive door swung open and a -middle aged man with a jovial expression said, "Come in, come in. I'm -George Wile. Sarah's somewhere. What's your name? Sorry I can't keep -track of all of Sarah's friends."</p> - -<p>"Ben Smith," I said, stepping inside.</p> - -<p>"Sarah'll show up in a minute," George Wile said, and promptly forgot -me.</p> - -<p>That was okay by me. I stood by the door looking around, trying to spot -the little man. A gorgeous young thing held a tray in front of my face -until I took a tall glass that contained, I discovered, an excellent -Tom Collins.</p> - -<p>I couldn't see the little man anywhere. I mosied across the room to the -archway to another room where there were more people. He wasn't there -either.</p> - -<p>A distinguished appearing man seemed to be the center of attraction -here. I edged into the crowd around him and finally deduced that he had -earlier given a book review or lecture or something, and this was the -refreshment period before everyone went home.</p> - -<p>Still no sign of the little man.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a sharp rapping sounded. I turned my head. A woman with a -large bust was pounding a gavel on the small stand. Around me the buzz -of conversation dropped off into silence.</p> - -<p>"Is there a Mr. Ben Smith here?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"He's here somewhere, Sarah," George Wile's voice sounded loudly. -"Where are you, Ben old boy?"</p> - -<p>I was too startled to speak for a second or two. Then I said, "Yes!"</p> - -<p>Sarah Fish separated me from the crowd with her eyes, then came toward -me. There seemed to be concern, a mixture of pity, and something else -in her expression. When she reached me she said in a low voice, "Please -come with me, Mr. Smith."</p> - -<p>No one was paying attention to us. The conversational murmur was -on again. I followed her into the front room and around to a door -underneath the stairs that arched up to a balcony.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She opened the door and stood aside for me to go in. There was still -that strange something in her expression. I tried to place it, then -went past her into the room.</p> - -<p>The little man was there, standing across the room against a back-drop -of shelves filled with books. His piercing eyes flicked at me. Then he -lifted his arm and examined his wristwatch.</p> - -<p>"Right on the second," he said, a shade of disappointment in his tone. -"I'd hoped this time you'd be off a few seconds." He lowered his arm -and advanced toward me, hand outstretched politely. "I'm Sam Golfin," -he said. "I want to ask you some questions, Benny. And this time I hope -I get the right answers."</p> - -<p>I ignored his hand. "How'd you know my name?" I demanded. "How'd you -know I came here?"</p> - -<p>"Oh dear," Sarah Fish said. "I <i>don't</i> know how to tell him, Sam. -You'll have to."</p> - -<p>Sam Golfin gave her a sympathetic glance, then looked grim. "This -time," he said, fixing me with a stare, "I'm not going to try to spare -your feelings. In—" He studied his watch again. "—exactly one hour -and seventeen minutes you are going to be murdered. A man doesn't just -get murdered without knowing who might have done it, who his enemies -are. Someone in this house is going to kill you. <i>Who is it?</i>"</p> - -<p>"You see," Sarah Fish said, her bosom expanding in an anxious breath, -"you <i>must</i> tell us who did it."</p> - -<p>I stared at them both, then gave what I intended to be a derisive -laugh, but it sounded thin. "What makes you think I'm going to be -murdered?" I said.</p> - -<p>"For one thing," Sam Golfin said cautiously, "it's in tomorrow's -papers."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I see," I said sarcastically.</p> - -<p>"I know you must think I'm joking...." Golfin said.</p> - -<p>"Hardly," I said. And it was the truth. I thought he was crazy.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you don't," Sam Golfin said with relief. "Every minute counts -if we are to save you."</p> - -<p>"Save me?" I mocked. "But I thought you said it was in the papers. So -it must be true."</p> - -<p>"I'm not so sure," Golfin said with an important frown. "I'm not so -sure the future can't be altered. That's why I'm here. I want to see if -I can change the future. If I can...." He left whatever thought he was -toying with unspoken.</p> - -<p>A sudden thought shattered my amused point of view. That three dollar -bill. It had been a <i>Series of 1964</i>, something utterly absurd by -itself. But coupled with Sam Golfin's obvious conviction that I was -going to be murdered, and his talk of changing the future, it made a -pattern that made me suddenly uneasy.</p> - -<p>"Why would anyone here kill me?" I asked with a defiance that covered -my unease. "I don't even know anyone here. As a matter of fact, the -reason I came here was to—"</p> - -<p>"But someone here knows you," Golfin said. "And that someone knew you -were going to be here. The murder was—will be—carefully planned."</p> - -<p>"Just how am I going to be murdered?" I asked, not grinning.</p> - -<p>"The coroner's report says that you were—will be—poisoned," Golfin -said.</p> - -<p>I thought of the Tom Collins, and my stomach turned over.</p> - -<p>"A venom," Golfin went on, "injected by means of a pin or needle. The -coroner found—will find, that is—a small puncture in the small of -your back on the right side, with some of the venom still imbedded, -along with the paste."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," I said. "I'm getting out of -here." I turned toward the door.</p> - -<p>"Wait!" Sarah Fish said. "Mr. Golfin says it will happen when you try -to leave."</p> - -<p>My momentum left me as my hand touched the doorknob. It flowed out of -me. I turned around and faced them.</p> - -<p>"Just how do you know all this?" I said, glaring at the little man.</p> - -<p>"I suppose I had better tell you," he said. "I'm <i>Dr.</i> Golfin."</p> - -<p>"Oh," I said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He reached into his breast pocket and extracted an expensive leather -billfold. Looking quite important for his size, he took out a card and -extended it to me.</p> - -<p>"My specialty is—has been," he said, "amnesiacs. I've made a life -study of them."</p> - -<p>I looked at the card. It gave the name, Dr. S. L. Golfin, and an -address on Wabash, Chicago.</p> - -<p>"The phenomenon of amnesia interested me," he went on. "A person -suddenly can't remember anything. Perhaps years later memory returns, -but there is a gap. Why?"</p> - -<p>He smiled at me triumphantly. Sarah Fish nodded sagely.</p> - -<p>"Because...." Golfin lifted his left arm with a flourish and inspected -his watch. "One hour and three minutes," he said quietly. Then, -"That was the question I asked myself. Why? Unfortunately amnesia is -rather rare. The few genuine cases didn't give me enough opportunity -to find the answer. I did, however, arrive at several theories about -it. And finally I came to the conclusion that amnesia is part of a -larger field. I expanded my research to include other phenomena -such as prophetic dreams. I was sure I was on the right track, but -unfortunately it was impossible to study a person in the process of -having a prophetic dream."</p> - -<p>"I can see that," I said sympathetically.</p> - -<p>"Exactly," Golfin said, blinking up at me. "However, I asked myself, -'Of the several theories, wouldn't the one that also accounts for -prophetic dreams be the more probable one?' And of course it's well -known that the more a theory explains, the more probable it is of being -true."</p> - -<p>"Not always," I ventured.</p> - -<p>He pondered this, then looked at his watch again. "Fifty-three -minutes," he said.</p> - -<p>I swallowed.</p> - -<p>"But how do amnesia and prophetic dreams tie together?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"They are basically the same phenomenon," Golfin said, "with one -important difference. In amnesia the conscious mind jumps over a period -of time and stays there, going on in normal fashion. In prophetic -dreams it does the same, <i>except that it returns to its starting -point</i>."</p> - -<p>I glanced at Sarah Fish. She was listening intently. It occurred to me -that she hadn't heard any of this before either. She was the congenial -type. Undoubtedly when Golfin had sprung this murder business on her -she hadn't asked questions.</p> - -<p>"Now do you see what I'm getting at?" Golfin said. "The mechanism must -be the same in both instances. An underlying mechanism. In amnesia a -person may suffer a brain injury, or a person may be under a terrific -compulsion to escape the present. In either case the person jumps over -a period of days or years in, seemingly, an instant—and refuses to -return. In prophetic dreams the person jumps into the future to an -instant when something crucial is taking place, and returns to the -present with memory of it."</p> - -<p>I looked at my own watch and said, "Any other time I would like to -listen, but what are you driving at?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He frowned and glanced at his watch. "Forty-one minutes," he said. -"This is what I'm driving at. If I could discover the mechanism by -which the mind leaps into the future, and returns, I would have a -means of doing that myself. I could, possibly, go to tomorrow and -buy a newspaper and see what it says, and return to today with that -knowledge."</p> - -<p>"I see now!" Sarah Fish said, quivering with excitement. "That's how -you learned that Mr. Smith is to be murdered!"</p> - -<p>"So you did discover a way?" I said.</p> - -<p>"I did. That's why I'm here. For some time now I have been going into -the future at will, and also into the past. I've learned how to control -it, the length of time I stay there, and just how far into the future -or the past I go."</p> - -<p>"It sounds good," I admitted. "How could you change things?"</p> - -<p>He glanced at his watch worriedly. "We haven't much time," he said. -"A little over half an hour. What I want to do is this. I have the -instruments with me to send you into the future to the moment you -are dying. I want you to go there and see if you don't know then -who killed you, and how. You will return to the present moment with -that knowledge, and be able to avoid death. At least—" He smiled -encouragingly. "At least I hope you will."</p> - -<p>"And if I don't?"</p> - -<p>He shrugged. "This is my first serious attempt to change the past. -Sooner or later I will succeed." He had reached into his breast pocket -again. Now he brought out something like a fat fountain pen.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," I said uneasily. "You sure this doesn't hurt?"</p> - -<p>He unscrewed the end of the thing. There was a short hollow needle on -it, with what looked like a trigger that had swung out into position -against the side.</p> - -<p>"I've used it on myself many times," he said. He started toward me.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," I said, backing up a step and holding up my hand. -"This is going to take me up to the instant I'm dying?"</p> - -<p>"That's right," he said, "and I want you to try, in that single instant -you are there, to find out who did it. Think where you were when it -happened, and who might have done it."</p> - -<p>"You sure it won't kill me?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He took another step toward me. "Of course not," he said.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute," I said, backing up against a bookcase to get away from -him. "Why didn't you go farther ahead in time and read in the papers -who did it? Wouldn't that have been the best way?"</p> - -<p>For a brief instant his eyes flashed with what seemed to me to be -madness. I thought of the three dollar bill. The guy was crazy. It -had to be that. He'd been using the stuff on himself. Whatever it was -it had affected his mind. He imagined he could send his mind into the -future. Or maybe—</p> - -<p>I remembered suddenly why I was here. I had followed Golfin in the -hopes of getting one of those three dollar bills. That made it a -vicious circle. Sure. It was <i>he</i> who was going to murder me, if -anyone was. Those other people didn't know me. And he said I was going -to be poisoned by venom on a pin or needle—<i>or was it going to be a -hypodermic needle</i>?</p> - -<p>"Don't be afraid, Mr. Smith," Golfin purred. "It's the only hope of -saving your life. Your murder was never solved."</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is, is it?" I gritted. I snaked out with my hand and wrapped -my fingers around the wrist of the hand that held the needle. "Give me -that thing," I said.</p> - -<p>He struggled. He had a lot of strength for a little man. He pivoted -around and tried to pull his wrist free. With his other hand he tried -to get hold of the needle. I kept shaking his wrist to keep him from -doing it.</p> - -<p>Then I remembered his expensive billfold. It probably had the three -dollar bills in it. I simply reached into his breast pocket and -appropriated it. He didn't know it was gone.</p> - -<p>A second later, with a loud grunt, he twisted violently in a last -effort to get free. I heard a sharp snap, and at the same time I felt a -sharp pain stab into me.</p> - -<p>It was in the small of my back on the right side. <i>The small of my back -on the right side!</i></p> - -<p>I let go of his wrist. He was just starting to jerk again, and my -letting go made him stagger backwards and fall against the bookcase on -the far wall. He didn't even know his gadget had gone off!</p> - -<p>I did, though. And a strange fatalism was seeping into me, like the -emotional effect of a drug. A numbness was beginning to make itself -felt along my right side.</p> - -<p>Sarah Fish was staring at me, her eyes large and round. Not like a fish -though. Too human, too full of concern and sympathy. Maybe she had seen -the needle stick me....</p> - -<p>Funny ... Golfin came here convinced in his own insane way that he was -going to prevent a murder. If he hadn't come, I wouldn't have come -either. And if he hadn't come, there wouldn't have been a corpse....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I looked around until I found the door, and headed toward it. My right -leg dragged a little as I walked. And I didn't need to go into the -future to know what was going to happen. I would make it to the door. -Sure. I would open it, and walk through the crowd outside toward the -front door. Before I got there I would die. Golfin would never know, -maybe, that it was his drug that had killed me. Sarah Fish, convinced -by the way it happened that Golfin had been right, would insist to the -police that I was okay when I left her.</p> - -<p>I could stop right where I was and die in this room. My hand gripped -the doorknob and twisted, and the door opened. And I knew I wasn't -going to stay in this room. I was going to try to get to the front door.</p> - -<p>My whole right side was numb now. I had to walk slowly. Even then I -wasn't sure of my next step. And with each step the massive front door -seemed farther away.</p> - -<p><i>I wasn't going to make it.</i></p> - -<p>I bumped into someone—or someone bumped into me. I jerked my head -around with a snarl starting on my lips. It was George Wile.</p> - -<p>"Sorry old boy," he apologized. "I didn't see you."</p> - -<p>I blinked at him, an idea forming. Maybe if I could change -something—any little thing—I could save myself. What could I change? -I didn't know, because I didn't know whether even the change I might -make would be part of the future. Still....</p> - -<p>"'Sall right, ol' boy," I said, bumping against him. And my hands moved -fast. My own wallet went into his pocket, and his went into mine.</p> - -<p>I stepped back, grinning. I had at least done something to confuse the -issues. I would leave that puzzle behind me. It wouldn't fool anyone -though, because they would know who I was. Sarah Fish and Sam Golfin.</p> - -<p>My heart was starting to pound painfully. Panic flooded into me. I had -to reach that front door. I had to! It was already open, and people -were going through it, leaving the party. The distinguished appearing -man was standing there shaking hands with them as they left.</p> - -<p>Where was I supposed to drop dead? I wished I had asked Golfin that. I -took another step, and another. And, unbelieving, I was at the door.</p> - -<p>"Glad you could be here," the distinguished appearing man said, -gripping my hand and letting it go.</p> - -<p>He had turned to the next person, and I was standing there, my heart -pounding, expecting to drop. Somebody pushed against me gently and -said, "Pardon me." I put my hand on the door frame and put one foot -over the threshold. I was still standing.</p> - -<p>I let go the door frame and put the other foot over the threshold. I -was standing on the porch. I sucked in a breath. It was too good to be -true. There was a catch to it somewhere. But—</p> - -<p>I took another step. Eager haste possessed me. I took quick steps off -the porch. I was on the sidewalk. I was still alive!</p> - -<p>And somewhere I had lost the numbness in my side.</p> - -<p>Around me people were getting in their cars, the doors slamming shut -softly. I glanced over my shoulder. More people were coming out of the -house.</p> - -<p>I waited for no more. Almost running, I went the two blocks to the stop -sign and turned toward the drugstore.</p> - -<p>"Made it," I said under my voice as I pushed open the door and went in. -I slid into the same seat I had occupied before. The same counter girl -took my order for coffee. "Black this time," I said. "And where's my -paper?"</p> - -<p>My heart wasn't pounding any more. I was still shaky, but there wasn't -a chance of my dying. Not a chance. I grinned to myself.</p> - -<p>My coffee came. Also a paper. I sipped the coffee and tried to get -interested in the paper. But I kept going back to what had happened.</p> - -<p>Then I heard the sound of police sirens. They approached until they -were just outside. I looked out and saw the police cars turn the -corner, going in the direction of the house where I had been.</p> - -<p>So someone had died after all!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I reached under my coat and touched the spot where the needle had -struck me. It was a little sore, but not enough to bother me.</p> - -<p>Who had been killed? George Wile? Suddenly I remembered the exchange -of wallets I had made. I reached into my hip pocket and took out his -wallet.</p> - -<p>I looked in the money compartment and saw I had enriched myself by -twenty dollars. Grinning, I looked in another pocket of the wallet. -There was a package of needles. My grin wiped off. They were ordinary -sewing needles. But the pointed ends were covered with what seemed to -be gray paint.</p> - -<p>The counter girl was at the far end scrubbing the counter. The baldish -cashier was on the other side of the store behind a counter, waiting on -a man and a woman. I took Golfin's billfold and quickly thumbed through -it.</p> - -<p>There were several of the three dollar bills. There were two ones. And -there were five twenty dollar bills. I shoved all the money into my -pocket except one of the three dollar bills.</p> - -<p>I made sure no one was looking my way, and dropped Golfin's billfold -on the floor, kicking it under the counter behind me in the center -aisle where it wouldn't be found unless the janitor swept under there. -I decided to do the same with Wile's. After all, if Sam Golfin were -right, and there was a murder, I didn't want a couple of strange -wallets on me. Nor those coated needles.</p> - -<p>I looked at the three dollar bill in my hand. It was like that other -one. Picture of Truman on it, atomic mushroom on the other side, with -the atom superimposed. I squinted at the fine print. <i>Series of 1958.</i></p> - -<p>That made me frown. Why would someone bother to change the date on -phony money? And it was too nice a job of engraving for such a thing -too.</p> - -<p>I thought of one of the tests for good money. I rubbed the three dollar -bill against the margin of the newspaper. Some of the ink came off.</p> - -<p>The wild theory Golfin had fed me was tame compared to what I was -beginning to suspect. I took out the rest of his money and picked out a -twenty dollar bill. Putting the rest back in my pocket, I studied the -twenty. I rubbed it against the margin of the newspaper. Ink came off. -It was genuine money.</p> - -<p>Taking a deep breath, I squinted at the fine print. <i>Series of 1964.</i></p> - -<p>I looked at the rest of the money I had taken from Golfin. The two ones -were okay. All the rest had dates in the future. I knew money. I could -spot a phony bill a block away. It was real money.</p> - -<p>Either a master counterfeiter had—Another thought struck me. I -compared the serial numbers of the bills. All different. That clinched -it. They weren't phony.</p> - -<p>That meant that Golfin was <i>actually from the future himself</i>. Then why -had he given me and Sarah Fish that story about prophetic dreams and -amnesia? I thought about that a bit and nodded to myself. He wanted to -give us something we could believe. We wouldn't have believed a raw -statement that he was from the future. Those three dollar bills....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The more I thought about them the less they seemed like a gag. I tried -to recall every detail of Golfin's passing it when he bought his -cigarettes. He hadn't done it like he was pulling a gag. He had taken -his change and walked out. He didn't know he had done anything wrong. -He had assumed a three dollar bill was used here—or now, rather.</p> - -<p>My coffee was cold. The girl was looking at me as if she wanted to -close up. I smiled at her and tossed a quarter on the counter and went -out on the sidewalk.</p> - -<p>I debated what to do. Should I forget the whole thing? Or should I take -a walk back to Sarah Fish's house and see what was going on? I decided -on the latter.</p> - -<p>Her house was dark. No police cars were there. That was not what I had -expected. With a murder, there should be police cars, and the place -should be lit up. Or maybe not. It had been an hour since I left the -place.</p> - -<p>I went back to the drugstore and caught the bus down to the Davis -Street El station. Riding on the elevated it occurred to me that maybe -I'd better not go to my apartment. If the police had gotten my wallet -from George Wile they might be waiting for me.</p> - -<p>I decided to rent a room for the night and wait until morning. Then -I changed my mind. If I went back to my room I could claim Wile had -picked <i>my</i> pocket. If the police were looking for me they would -eventually get me anyway, since I already had a record of three arrests -for this and that.</p> - -<p>I sighed and relaxed, and after a while the train dipped down into the -subway, and I got off and had a late snack at the corner cafeteria.</p> - -<p>It was almost midnight when I climbed the stairs to my apartment. When -I opened the door the phone was ringing. I turned on the light and -closed the door, and answered it.</p> - -<p>"Ben Smith?" a strange voice said. "This is George Wile."</p> - -<p>"Oh," I said. I did some quick thinking. "Oh!" I said in a different -tone. "I remember you. How'd you know my number. Did you find my -wallet? That must be it. I lost it. Thanks a lot for calling me about -it. I'll meet you tomorrow and get it back."</p> - -<p>"It was in my pocket," he said coldly. "And my own was missing. I want -it back."</p> - -<p>"Yours was missing?" I said. "Hey, wait a minute. If you think I got -it you're crazy. Somebody played a trick on us. There must have been a -pickpocket at Sarah Fish's tonight."</p> - -<p>"There was," he said coldly. "You. I took the trouble of calling the -police and found out. I want my wallet and I want it tonight."</p> - -<p>"I don't have it. No kidding." I said worriedly. "I'm handing you the -straight goods. By the way, what happened after I left? I heard the -police sirens."</p> - -<p>"Someone had called them and said there was a murder. They were pretty -sore about it."</p> - -<p>"And there wasn't? Ha Ha?" I said.</p> - -<p>"Quit stalling, Smith," Wile said. "I want my wallet back. And -everything in it."</p> - -<p>"Haven't got it," I said.</p> - -<p>A long sigh came over the phone.</p> - -<p>"All right," Wile said. "I sort of expected this. I'll give you five -hundred dollars for it."</p> - -<p>I took the phone from my face and stared at it, thinking. Talking -sounds came from the receiver. I put it back to my ear and said, "Come -again? I didn't hear you."</p> - -<p>"You heard me all right," Wile said. "Okay, I can get you two thousand -dollars from the bank tomorrow. Meet me at eleven o'clock at State and -Washington, northeast corner."</p> - -<p>"Okay," I said. "Be sure and bring me <i>my</i> wallet."</p> - -<p>"I will," he said smoothly. His tone became worried. "Is my wallet in a -<i>safe</i> place?"</p> - -<p>"Sure," I said, thinking of the spot under the counter where I had slid -it with my foot. "You don't need to worry about it at all."</p> - -<p>The line was dead. I realized suddenly that he had trapped me into an -admission that I had his wallet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This wasn't the same as a little light finger work on a crowded train, -or getting a rubber check chased, or any of the many things I did when -the opportunity arose, to pay my rent. Wile didn't just want these -poison needles back. He was planning to kill me to keep me quiet. But -he wanted the needles and his wallet back too. First.</p> - -<p>I thought of Golfin and his reading in the papers that I had been -murdered, and it wasn't funny. I locked the door and wedged a chair -under the knob. Wile now knew for sure I was the one who had his -wallet. He could be on his way down to kill me right now.</p> - -<p>I started packing.</p> - -<p>It wasn't until I was almost packed that I suddenly became aware of -someone standing behind me. I jerked around in alarm. It was Sam Golfin.</p> - -<p>"How'd you get in here?" I blurted out.</p> - -<p>"I've been waiting here ever since tomorrow," he said. "I had to see -you."</p> - -<p>I grinned at him thinly. "I didn't get murdered at Sarah's after all," -I remarked dryly.</p> - -<p>"No, thank God," Golfin said. "It proves that the past <i>can</i> be -changed. I'd hoped it could." He frowned. "But unfortunately in -preventing your murder at Sarah's a new future came into existence. I -have to do it all over again."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Tomorrow when I came to see you, you were in here—dead. The door was -unlocked. That's how I got in."</p> - -<p>"Oh fine!" I snorted. "See what I'm doing? I'm packing. In another five -minutes I'll be on my way to parts unknown."</p> - -<p>"I only wish that were true," Golfin said sadly.</p> - -<p>"Look," I said. "I wish you'd get out and leave me alone. You want to -know why I almost got killed last night?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do," Golfin said. "That's something the police couldn't find -out—in that other future, I mean."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you," I said. "I didn't know anything about Sarah Fish's -place. I probably would never have gone there except for you. You -bought a pack of cigarettes in the drugstore. Remember?"</p> - -<p>Golfin blinked his eyes, then nodded.</p> - -<p>"You paid for them with a three dollar bill."</p> - -<p>"What is wrong with that?" Golfin asked.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," I said slowly, "except that there aren't any three dollar -bills."</p> - -<p>"Oh dear me," Golfin said. "Of course there aren't. It completely -slipped my mind!"</p> - -<p>"I wanted one of those three dollar bills," I said. "The druggist -wouldn't let me have the one you left, so I went to Sarah Fish's place -to find you and get one."</p> - -<p>A knock sounded at the door.</p> - -<p>"It's the man who's going to kill you," Sam said.</p> - -<p>"And there isn't any other way out of here," I said. "How are you going -to get me out of this one?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," he mused. He looked from me to the door, his eyes -thoughtful. "I'm beginning to see something," he said. "It's very -interesting. So you went to the Fish residence because of me. Hmmm. I -wonder.... It doesn't seem possible, but...."</p> - -<p>"What doesn't seem possible?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He smiled apologetically. "There really isn't anything that can be done -about that man in the hall." The knocking was repeated, more loudly. -"And this future is quite hopeless for you...."</p> - -<p>Whoever was in the hall was trying some kind of key in the lock.</p> - -<p>"If I owned a gun it wouldn't be," I said, watching the door bend in -under pressure from outside.</p> - -<p>"If you only knew who it was!" Golfin groaned.</p> - -<p>"But I do!" I said.</p> - -<p>"You said at Sarah's that you didn't," Golfin snapped.</p> - -<p>"I didn't, then," I said. Quickly I told him about George Wile and the -package of poisoned needles. "He's obviously planning on murdering -someone. Maybe at Sarah's last night," I concluded hastily, my eye on -the door. "My switching wallets with him stopped that. Now he's got to -kill me before he can go ahead with this other murder, or I could put -the finger on him."</p> - -<p>"Why—didn't—you—say—so—before?" Golfin said, glaring at me with -annoyance.</p> - -<p>The door splintered a little, the noise sounding like a shot. I took my -eyes off Golfin to look, and when I looked back Golfin was darting at -me, his hypodermic gadget in his hand and what looked like murder in -his eye.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I tried to grab his wrist. This time he was too fast for me. He evaded -my clutch and was behind me before I could turn. I felt a sharp pain -stab at the base of my skull. I started to turn. The room blurred as a -wave of dizziness swept over me....</p> - -<p>"Here's your coffee, sir."</p> - -<p>I looked at the girl behind the counter, then down at my newspaper. -"Thanks," I said. My stomach felt funny. I felt just like a guy I knew -once who had a premonition he was going to die. Heartburn, I decided -hastily. But I felt nervous.</p> - -<p>I took a sip of the hot coffee and tried to concentrate on the paper. -Then I became aware of the little man. I felt instantly I had seen him -someplace before, but I couldn't place him.</p> - -<p>"A package of Camels," he said to the cashier.</p> - -<p>"That will be twenty cents," the baldish cashier said.</p> - -<p>The little man handed him a bill he had been holding in his hand. "By -the way," he said smoothly as the cashier glanced at it, "could you -tell me the way to Sarah Fish's residence?"</p> - -<p>The little man glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He seemed -to know me, but gave no sign of recognition. The cashier was giving -him directions. I was listening, but I was trying to puzzle out the -strange feeling that I had been through all this before. And it wasn't -until the little man had left that it seeped into my consciousness that -something was queer about that bill.</p> - -<p>"Hey!" I said to the cashier. "What kind of bill did that little guy -give you?"</p> - -<p>"Why, a—a—Oh good Lord."</p> - -<p>We examined it together. It was a three dollar bill. And instead of -surprise, I felt the jaws of a trap closing in on me. I listened to the -cashier babble about playing gags on his friends with it. A part of me -wanted to turn my back on the whole thing and forget it.</p> - -<p>But some force pulled me in the direction the little man had gone. As -I walked I relaxed. I shrugged off the strange feeling I had. I told -myself I didn't believe in premonitions.</p> - -<p>A party of some sort was in full swing at the Sarah Fish place. I -nodded to myself. I could go in and mix with the crowd. I could pick -this little man's pocket. Maybe a few more. The worst that could happen -would be that they wouldn't let me in.</p> - -<p>Beside the huge door was a button. I pressed it and heard a series of -chimes ring out. A few seconds later the door swung open and a middle -aged man with a jovial expression said, "Come in, come in. I'm George -Wile. Sarah's somewhere. What's your name? Sorry I can't keep track of -all Sarah's friends."</p> - -<p>"Ben Smith," I said, stepping inside.</p> - -<p>"Sarah'll show up in a minute," George Wile said, and promptly forgot -me. That was okay by me. I had taken an instant dislike to him.</p> - -<p>I stood near the door looking around, trying to spot the little man. -A gorgeous young thing held a tray in front of my face until I took a -tall glass that contained, I discovered, an excellent Tom Collins.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I saw the little man. He was at the edge of the group -surrounding a distinguished appearing man who was talking. I edged over -near the crowd and sized things up. It would be a cinch.</p> - -<p>I crowded against the little man, then jerked as though someone had -shoved me. At the same time my free hand snaked in and got his wallet.</p> - -<p>"Sorry," I murmured. "Someone pushed me."</p> - -<p>The little man looked up at me and smiled. And I had a strange feeling -that he had been expecting it. I could have sworn he even knew I had -his wallet, and was laughing at me.</p> - -<p>There was one obvious answer. He was a cop and he knew me. He'd take -his time and get me with the goods. He didn't look like a cop but—</p> - -<p>I looked for him and he had disappeared.</p> - -<p>I tried to locate him, meanwhile sipping my Collins as though I -belonged here. Then I did something I always do unconsciously as a -matter of habit. I felt in my hip pocket to make sure my own wallet -hadn't been stolen by some other pickpocket. It was gone!</p> - -<p>So that was it! The little man was a pickpocket. I thought I had seen -him someplace before! I grinned suddenly, wondering if he had really -missed his billfold yet.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I kept looking for him. Then things happened fast. I saw the little man -sliding away from the man who had let me into the house. George Wile. -I took a step after the little man. My eyes jerked back to George when -he uttered a scream and clutched at his back. He fell forward, his arms -and legs jerking.</p> - -<p>I pulled my eyes away, searching for the little man. A crowd was -rushing around George Wile. I heard someone—a woman—scream, "My God! -He's dead!"</p> - -<p>I saw the little man at the front door. He slipped out as I pushed -through the crowd toward him. I went as fast as I dared. When I reached -the sidewalk I saw him running toward the drugstore.</p> - -<p>I ran after him, gaining rapidly. He looked over his shoulder and saw -me. Then—</p> - -<p>He just vanished. Right in front of my eyes. He couldn't have darted -off the walk into the bushes.</p> - -<p>I stopped, not believing my eyes, and started searching the lawns -carefully. A couple of minutes later I heard sirens coming toward this -part of town.</p> - -<p>I hid between two houses and watched the police cars pull up in front -of Sarah Fish's place. Then I went to the bus line.</p> - -<p>A few hours later, after a lot of riding around town I climbed up to -the sidewalk from the subway. A night extra was being shouted.</p> - -<p>"Big murdah in Evanston!"</p> - -<p>And I knew before I read the paper that it would give my name as the -murdered man. Premonition. I was beginning to believe in it now.</p> - -<p>I went to an all night cafe and ordered a hamburger plate and read the -paper. They had identified the victim by the wallet they found on him. -My wallet, of course. And that meant that the little man had planted it -on him and then killed him. With a poisoned needle the papers said.</p> - -<p>Why?</p> - -<p>I gave up trying to figure it out after a while and went to my -apartment. I had made up my mind to get out of town. They might find -out the victim's real identity, and then they would come looking for me -to find out why my wallet was on him.</p> - -<p>I locked the door and began packing clothes into a suitcase. I became -aware after a while of someone standing behind me. I jerked around in -alarm. It was the little man.</p> - -<p>"You!" I blurted. "How'd you get in here?" I doubled a fist and started -toward him. He had killed a man and planted my wallet on the corpse.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, a queer distortion blanketed my mind. I had a strange -conviction that things were happening just the way they had happened -before—many times before—only not at different times, but this very -instant.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, like a veil drawing away from a window, the distortion -vanished. With preternatural clarity everything that had happened -flooded into memory.</p> - -<p>"Good!" Golfin said. "I see the time-lines have emerged as true -memories. And this time I saved your life."</p> - -<p>"You think so?" I snarled. "The police will be after me by morning. -They'll pin the murder on me—the murder <i>you</i> committed."</p> - -<p>He was shaking his head. "I didn't kill George Wile. Let me explain -what happened. But go on with your packing. I can talk while you work."</p> - -<p>I nodded.</p> - -<p>"In the first time-line," Golfin said, "the one I started out to -investigate, you were actually killed. I know now how it happened. You -see, Sarah Fish is a blackmailer. George Wile was one of her victims. -To get out of her clutches he had planned on killing her. It was a -perfect setup for him. Several of her blackmail victims were there. -All he had to do was stick her with the poisoned needle and sit back. -Nothing could be pinned on him. Motive? A dozen of those present had -equal motives.</p> - -<p>"But you were there. A pickpocket. You lifted his wallet. He wouldn't -have felt your light touch ordinarily, but he was acutely conscious of -those spare poisoned needles. He had one in his fingers. Within a few -moments Sarah would have been killed. You changed things. He killed you -instead, and in the excitement stole back his wallet. And of course he -didn't go through with his original plan to kill Sarah Fish. And also -of course, the police never solved your murder. That's why I chose it -in my first attempt to change the past. It was an ideal mystery. I -could solve it and at the same time save your life.</p> - -<p>"I went into the past and watched your every move. But George Wile was -too smart. Even watching I couldn't find out who had done it. So I went -back into the past again and began my great experiment, <i>an attempt to -alter what has already happened</i>.</p> - -<p>"I succeeded—but not the way I had hoped. There is an inertia to -events. That inertia in events made you steal his wallet the second -time—and plant your own on him. You left before he discovered the -switch. He came after you to kill you here. It was then you gave me the -identity of your killer. After that I went back to my original point -again. At the proper time I did what you had done. I picked George -Wile's pocket. He felt me do it. Again—the inertia of events—he -tried to stick me with the poisoned needle. But I was ready for him. I -deflected his hand and shoved. He stuck himself."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Golfin grinned. "Sure I planted your wallet on him. But who can say -whether it was my own free will or the inertia of events that made me -do it? The morning papers will carry the story exactly the same as it -was in the first time-line. A tremendous inertia of a single event."</p> - -<p>"But what about me?" I said wildly. "The police will check. They'll -know he isn't me."</p> - -<p>Golfin shrugged. "I doubt it," he said. "My guess is that Sarah will -identify him as you and keep quiet. To protect her racket, George -will be buried as Ben Smith. George Wile's relatives will report him -missing. He'll never be found. 'Your' murder will remain unsolved."</p> - -<p>"I'm getting out anyway," I said. "I don't want to chance it."</p> - -<p>"Then why not come with me?" Golfin said. "Now that I know I can change -the past I'm going to start doing it in earnest."</p> - -<p>"Go with you?" I said.</p> - -<p>"You could work for me," Golfin said persuasively. "I would pay you -far more than you average picking pockets, and it would be far more -exciting work."</p> - -<p>"Say...." I said thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea. I guess I owe -you something, too, for saving my life." I nodded. "Okay. But where do -we go?"</p> - -<p>"Not where," Sam Golfin said. "To when. We're going to my present—a -future year not too far removed from 1954."</p> - -<p>He took out his hypodermic gadget and came toward me. I retreated -a step, then stood still, the palms of my hands suddenly wet with -perspiration.</p> - -<p>"Good boy," he said. "It won't hurt much."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I went into the drugstore and up to the cigar counter. "A pack of -Camels," I said to the cashier. I took out a three dollar bill and -handed it to him as he slid the pack toward me.</p> - -<p>"Fifty cents out of three dollars," he said absently.</p> - -<p>I nodded, thinking of the first time I had seen a three dollar bill.</p> - -<p>That was a long time ago, as time goes. Back in fifty-four. I was a -pickpocket then, in case you want to know. Now—I'm working for Sam -Golfin.</p> - -<p>Investigations. 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