The Time Machine had gone. Save for a subsiding stir of dust, the

further end of the laboratory was empty. A pane of the skylight had,

apparently, just been blown in.

I felt an unreasonable amazement. I knew that something strange had

happened, and for the moment could not distinguish what the strange

thing might be. As I stood staring, the door into the garden opened,

and the man-servant appeared.

We looked at each other. Then ideas began to come. 'Has Mr. ----

gone out that way?' said I.

'No, sir. No one has come out this way. I was expecting to find him

here.'

At that I understood. At the risk of disappointing Richardson I

stayed on, waiting for the Time Traveller; waiting for the second,

perhaps still stranger story, and the specimens and photographs he

would bring with him. But I am beginning now to fear that I must

wait a lifetime. The Time Traveller vanished three years ago. And,

as everybody knows now, he has never returned.

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