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“There was a man seated near by, the first human being whom I had seen in over five earth-years. I rushed to greet him, and to ask him where I was. But probably, in my haste, I spoke to him in the language of Poros. That, and my Cupian toga, must have surprised him, for he fired several shots at me with an automatic, and then turned and bolted through the door. One of his shots nicked my left hand. Luckily, the rest missed me.”

“Then you are the supposed madman of Lynn!” I exclaimed.

“The very same,” he answered.

“Well, well!” said I. “Who would have guessed it? And yet, as I read the story in the Boston Post, it somehow or other made me think of you.”

Myles laughed. “Not very complimentary. They certainly gave me a weird write-up.”

“They certainly did,” I replied. “But tell me, how did you get rid of your nightgown?”

Myles laughed again. “My toga, you mean? I found a suit of overalls, an old hat, and a pair of shoes in a locker, put them on, and made my escape from the building. In one of the pockets there was some small change, which carried me to Boston.