A half a block away I caught the tapping sound. It appeared to be moving down the street toward me and in a little while I saw a bobbing halo of white that seemed to go with the steady tapping. I stopped and stared at it and it came bobbing closer and the tapping sound went on. And in another moment I saw that it was Mrs Tyler with her snow-white hair and cane.

"Good evening, Mrs Tyler," I said as gently as I could, not to frighten her.

She stopped and twisted around to face me.

"It's Bradshaw, isn't it?" she asked. "I can't see you well, but I recognize your voice."

"Yes, it is," I said. "You're out late, Mrs Tyler."

"I came to see you," she said, "but I missed your house. I am so forgetful that I walked right past it. Then I remembered and I was coming back."

"What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Why, they tell me that you've seen Tupper. Spent some time with him."

"That's true," I said, sweating just a little, afraid of what might be coming next.

She moved a little closer, head tilted back, staring up at me.

"Is it true," she asked, "that he has a good position?"

"Yes," I said, "a very good position."

"He holds the trust of his employers?"

"That is the impression that I gained. I would say he held a post of some importance."

"He spoke of me?" she asked.

"Yes," I lied. "He asked after you. He said he'd meant to write, but he was too busy."

"Poor boy," she said, "he never was a hand to write. He was looking well?"

"Very well, indeed."

"Foreign service, I understand," she said. "Who would ever have thought he'd wind up in foreign service. To tell the truth, I often worried over him. But that was foolish, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," I said. "He's making out all right."

"Did he say when he would be coming home?"

"Not for a time," I told her. "It seems he's very busy."

"Well, then," she said, quite cheerfully, "I won't be looking for him. I can rest content. I won't be having to go out every hour or so to see if he's come back." She turned away and started down the street.

"Mrs Tyler," I said, "can't I see you home? It's getting dark and…"

"Oh, my, no," she said. "There is no need of it. I won't be afraid. Now that I know Tupper's all right, I'll never be afraid." I stood and watched her go, the white halo of her head bobbing in the darkness, her cane tapping out the way as she moved down the long and twisting path of her world of fantasy.

And it was better that way, I knew, better that she could take harsh reality and twist it into something that was strange and beautiful.

I stood and watched until she turned the corner and the tapping of the cane grew dim, then I turned about and headed downtown.

In the shopping district the street lamps had turned on, but all the stores were dark and this, when one saw it, was a bit upsetting, for most of them stayed open until nine o'clock. But now even the Happy Hollow tavern and the movie house were closed.

The village hall was lighted and a small group of people loitered near the door. The clinic, I imagined, must be coming to a close. I wondered, looking at the hall, what Doc Fabian might think of all of this. His testy old medic's soul, I knew, would surely stand aghast despite the fact he'd been the first to benefit.

I turned from looking at the hall, and plodded down the street, hands plunged deep into my trouser pockets, walking aimlessly and restlessly, not knowing what to do. On a night like this, I wondered, what was a man to do?

Sit in his living-room and watch the flickering rectangle of a television screen? Sit down with a bottle and methodically get drunk? Seek out a friend or neighbour for endless speculation and senseless conversation? Or find some place to huddle, waiting limply for what would happen next?

I came to an intersection and up the side street to my right I saw a splash of light that fell across the sidewalk from a lighted window. I looked at it, astonished, then realized that the light came from the window of the Tribune office, and that Joe Evans would be there, talking on the phone, perhaps, with someone from the Associated Press or the New York Times or one of the other papers that had been calling him for news. Joe was a busy man and I didn't want to bother him, but perhaps he wouldn't mind, I thought, if I dropped in for a minute.

He was busy on the phone, crouched above his desk, with the receiver pressed against his ear. The screen door clicked behind me and he looked up and saw me.

"Just a minute," he said into the phone, holding the receiver out to me.

"Joe, what's the matter?" For something was the matter. His face wore a look of shock and his eyes were stiff and staring. Little beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and ran into his eyebrows.

"It's Alf," he said, lips moving stiffly.

"Alf," I said into the phone, but I kept my eyes on Joe Evans' face. He had the look of a man who had been hit on the head with something large and solid.

"Brad!" cried Alf. "Is that you, Brad?"

"Yes," I said, "it is."

"Where have you been? I've been trying to get in touch with you. When your phone didn't answer…"

"What's the matter, Alf? Take it easy, Alf."

"All right," he said. "I'll try to take it easy. I'll take it from the top." I didn't like the sound of his voice. He was scared and he was trying not to be.

"Go ahead," I said.

"I finally got to Elmore," he told me. "The traffic's something awful. You can't imagine what the traffic is out here. They have military check points and…"

"But you finally got to Elmore. You told me you were going."

"Yes, I finally got here. On the radio I heard about this delegation that came out to see you. The senator and the general and the rest of them, and when I got to Elmore I found that they were stopping at the Corn Belt hotel. Isn't that the damndest name?

"But, anyhow, I figured that they should know more about what was going on down in Mississippi. I thought it might throw some light on the situation. So I went down to the hotel to see the senator — that is, to try to see him. It was a madhouse down there. There were great crowds of people and the police were trying to keep order, but they had their hands full. There were television cameras all over the place and newsmen and the radio people — well, anyhow, I never saw the senator. But I saw someone else. Saw him and recognized him from the pictures in the paper. The one called Davenport…"

"The biologist," I said.

"Yes, that's it. The scientist. I got him cornered and I tried to explain I had to see the senator. He wasn't too much help. I'm not even sure be was hearing what I was saying. He seemed to be upset and he was sweating like a mule and he was paper-white. I thought he might be sick and I asked him if he was, if there was anything I could do for him. Then he told me. I don't think he meant to tell me. I think maybe he was sorry that he did after he had told me. But he was so full of anger it was spilling out of him and for the moment he didn't care. The man was in anguish, I tell you. I never saw a man as upset as be was. He grabbed me by the lapels and he stuck his face up close to mine and he was so excited and he talked so fast that he spit all over me. He wouldn't have done a thing like that for all the world; he's not that sort of man…"

"Alf," I pleaded. "Alf, get down to facts."

"I forgot to tell you," Alf said, "that the news had just broken about that flying saucer you brought back. The radio was full of it. About how it was spotting the nuclear concentrations. Well, I started to tell the scientist about why I had to see the senator, about the project down in Greenbriar. And that was when he began to talk, grabbing hold of me so I couldn't get away. He said the news of the aliens' one condition, that we disperse our nuclear capacity, was the worst thing that could have happened. He said the Pentagon is convinced the aliens are a threat and that they must be stopped…"