hat once
had been a professor at State University.

A professor of metaphysics, they seemed to recall, or some such
outlandish subject. At any rate a furore of some sort was
connected with his name ... at the time an academic scandal. He
had written a book, and he had taught the subject matter of that
volume to his classes. What that subject matter was, had long been
forgotten, but whatever it was had been considered sufficiently
revolutionary to cost Mr. Chambers his post at the university.

A silver moon shone over the chimney tops and a chill, impish
October wind was rustling the dead leaves when Mr. Chambers
started out at seven o'clock.

It was a good night, he told himself, smelling the clean, crisp
air of autumn and the faint pungence of distant wood smoke.

He walked unhurriedly, swinging his cane a bit less jauntily than
twenty years ago. He tucked the muffler more securely under the
rusty old topcoat and pulled his bowler hat more firmly on his
head.

He noticed that the street light at the corner of Maple and
Jefferson was out and he grumbled a little to himself when he was
forced to step off the walk to circle a boarded-off section of
newly-laid concrete work before the driveway of 816.

It seemed that he reached the corner of Lexington and Maple just
a bit too quickly, but he told himself that this couldn't be. For
he never did that. For twenty years, since the year following his
expulsion from the university, he had lived by the clock.

The same thing, at the same time, day after day. He had not
deliberately set upon such a life of routine. A bachelor, living
alone with sufficient money to supply his humble needs, the timed
existence had grown on him gradually.

So he turned on Lexington and back on Oak. The dog at the corner
of Oak and Jefferson was waiting for him once again and came out
snarling and growling, snapping at his heels. But Mr. Chambers
pretended not to notice and the beast gave up the chase.

A radio was blaring down the street and faint wisps of what it
was blurting floated to Mr. Chambers.

"... still taking place ... Empire State building disappeared ...
thin air ... famed scientist, Dr. Edmund Harcourt...."

The wind whipped the muted words away and Mr. Chambers grumbled
to himself. Another one of those fantastic radio dramas,
probably. He remembered one from many years before, something
about the Martians. And Harcourt! What did Harcourt have to do
with it? He was one o