returned to the smoking-room.

He came into the hall with us and helped the Editor on with his

coat. The Medical Man looked into his face and, with a certain

hesitation, told him he was suffering from overwork, at which he

laughed hugely. I remember him standing in the open doorway, bawling

good night.

I shared a cab with the Editor. He thought the tale a 'gaudy lie.'

For my own part I was unable to come to a conclusion. The story was

so fantastic and incredible, the telling so credible and sober. I

lay awake most of the night thinking about it. I determined to go

next day and see the Time Traveller again. I was told he was in the

laboratory, and being on easy terms in the house, I went up to him.

The laboratory, however, was empty. I stared for a minute at the

Time Machine and put out my hand and touched the lever. At that the

squat substantial-looking mass swayed like a bough shaken by the

wind. Its instability startled me extremely, and I had a queer

reminiscence of the childish days when I used to be forbidden to

meddle. I came back through the corridor. The Time Traveller met me

in the smoking-room. He was coming from the house. He had a small

camera under one arm and a knapsack under the other. He laughed when

he saw me, and gave me an elbow to shake. 'I'm frightfully busy,'

said he, 'with that thing in there.'

'But is it not some hoax?' I said. 'Do you really travel through

125

The Time Machine