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SAFE — SAFE 1 CYCLE 2 > CYCLE 3 825 SAFE WRECK CYCLE 4 | —_ —_ T I M E

Cant you take that instead of going tonight?"

My husband carefully tucked his hair brush into his satchel, and for a moment deigned me no reply.

"I'm afraid to have you go tonight, John," I continued. "I've had a—a—sort of warning. You know what I mean."

John closed and locked his grip. "Are you afraid here alone?" he asked, after what seemed an interminable silence.

"No. It's not for myself that I fear danger, but for you. Won't you defer your trip?" I persisted.

"Now see here, Ellen," John responded with a show of irritation, "I've already bought my ticket and laid my plans for meeting Hopkins in Atlanta on Friday and I can't and won't stop because of some fool notion of yours. I had supposed you had forgotten about this fourth dimension time-cycle business!" He picked up his satchel. "But whether you've forgotten it or not, the 8:15 sees me ensconced on my way to Georgia."

"But, John, dear," I cried in desperation, "remember the Maxwell affair. If I had only obeyed my impulse to rush out and warn poor Mrs. Maxwell, she would be living now!"

John paused and looked at me as if considering, but it was only for a second; then he resumed his descent of the stairs.

"No," he said, "I've got to be in Atlanta on Friday or stand a chance of losing one of the biggest orders we've had in months."

Then it seemed as though something snapped in my brain and I heard my voice as though it were another's coming from a distance, "The Juggernaut, Fate, grinds mortals beneath its wheels and there is no hope."

I soon became conscious of the fact that I was sobbing hysterically and that John was holding me in his arms.

"Ellen, Ellen," his dear voice was saying. "I'm going to fool Fate a trick and let Hopkins wait. I leave tomorrow at 11:53. Let's see what's on the radio for the rest of the evening."

I gazed up at him with incredulity. "Oh, John," I cried ecstatically, "do you think we can prove that the cycles of time are not inexorable?"

"We can at least give the theory a fair trial," he said smiling.

I poured John his third cup of coffee, but did not feel that it had happened before! A mild thump on the front porch informed me that the morning paper had arrived. I brought it in and laid it in front of John, then I fled to the kitchen, where the odor of burning toast apprised me of the fact that I was much needed. Returning with the scraped toast, I seated myself opposite John for the purpose of resuming my breakfast.

"What news?" I asked casually.

For answer John handed me the paper and pointed mutely to an enormous headline. His face was ashen and his hand trembled.

With a sinking sensation I read the large letters: "Head-on collision demolishes engines and cars, and kills 70 persons."

"John," I gasped, "is it—was it—the 8:15?"

His voice was husky with pent emotion.

"Ellen, it was the 8:15, and I have been on it in the other cycles of time. I know it now."

I gazed at him incredulously for a moment, and then half in fun, half seriously, I said, "John, you are now living on borrowed time!"

He smiled a little wanly.

"Not exactly that, dear," he said, "but my mind has been doing some rapid thinking since I saw those headlines, and I believe I have a solution to your ever-puzzling problem of the fourth dimension, time."

"If you can prove my time-cycles are not incompatible with progress, evolution and growth," I cried eagerly, "you will make me the happiest woman on earth!"

"Wouldn't a new fur coat delight you more?" he asked teasingly.

"Well, that would help some," I admitted, "but tell me what makes you believe that evolution and progress are fact, despite the eon-worn ruts of the cycles of time."

"The fifth dimension," he replied in a quiet voice.

"The fifth dimension?" I echoed, puzzled.

"Which is simply this, Ellen. There is a general progression of the Universe over and above the cycles of time which renders each cycle a little in advance of