other men wear
business suits, and his tightly-waved hair was grayed at the temples. His
face was broad and sunburned, with a tiny nose which made scarcely any
division between widely-spaced blue eyes.
Breton experienced a thrill of almost superstitious dread as he recognized
Lieutenant Convery -- the man who, in another time-stream, had come to tell
him of Kate's death -- but he remained in perfect control of his reactions.
"Not today," he said, smiling. "A man has to relax every now and then."
"I didn't know you felt that way, John."
"But I do, I do -- I don't make a habit of it, that's all." Breton noticed
the other man's use of his Christian name, and tried unsuccessfully to
think of Convery's. This is incredible, he thought. How can a man have such bad luck?
Convery smiled, showing very white teeth made even more brilliant in
places by slight fluoride mottling. "I'm glad to hear you don't work
all the time, John -- it makes me feel less of a slob."
John again, Breton thought. I can't call him Lieutenant if we're on
first-name terms. "Well, what brings you out this way?"
"Nothing much -- a couple of routine calls in the area." Convery reached
into his pocket. "So I brought this." He brought out a brown pebble-like
object and handed it to Breton.
"Oh, yes." Breton inspected the object, noting its segmented, spiral
construction. "Oh, yes?"
"Yeah. My boy got it from another kid at school. I told him I'd get you
to . . ." He let his voice trail away, and stood waiting.
Breton stared down at the coiled stone, mind racing desperately. He
remembered Kate saying that Convery sometimes called to drink coffee
with John and talk about fossils. Presumably this was because John had
some professional knowledge of geology. Did it include fossils? He tried
to send his mind back more than nine years to the time when he too had
been interested in the rock-embalmed time travelers.
"This is a reasonably fair ammonite," he said, praying that Convery
merely wanted a simple identification.
Convery nodded. "Age?"
"About two hundred and fifty million years -- hard to say for sure
without knowing where it was found."
"Thanks." Convery took the fossil back and dropped it in his pocket.
His intelligent blue eyes flickered momentarily and Breton suddenly knew
that his relationship with the other Breton was a complex and uneasy thing.
"Say, John?"
"Uh-huh?" Why, Breton wondered, did he insist on using the first name
so much?
"You're losing some weight, aren't you?"
"It's nice of you to notice it. A fellow can get discouraged if he goes
on dieting for weeks without any obvious result."
"I'd say you've lost seven or eight pounds."
"That's about right -- and I really feel better for it."
"I think you looked better the way you were, John," Convery said
thoughtfully. "You look tired."
"I am tired -- that's why I took the afternoon off." Breton laughed,
and Convery joined in.
Breton remembered the coffee. "Do you feel like risking a cup of coffee
brewed with my own hand? Kate's out shopping."
"Where's Mrs. Fitz?"
Breton's mind went numb, then be recalled that Mrs. Fitz was the
cook-housekeeper. "We gave her a few days off," he said easily. "She
has to rest too, you know."
"I guess I'll just have to risk your coffee then, John."
Convery pushed open the kitchen door and ushered Breton inside. While
Breton was preparing the coffee he considered the problem of the fact
that they were supposed to know each other's preferences about cream
and sugar, and circumvented it by setting both on the kitchen table in
advance. He found the familiar domestic activity relaxing, realizing
he had been needlessly alarmed over Convery's visit. Kate had said the
policeman sometimes dropped by to talk about fossils and drink coffee --
and that was exactly what was happening. Even if Kate were to return
right then there would be nothing to arouse Convery's curiosity, and
John Breton was not expected for at least three
business suits, and his tightly-waved hair was grayed at the temples. His
face was broad and sunburned, with a tiny nose which made scarcely any
division between widely-spaced blue eyes.
Breton experienced a thrill of almost superstitious dread as he recognized
Lieutenant Convery -- the man who, in another time-stream, had come to tell
him of Kate's death -- but he remained in perfect control of his reactions.
"Not today," he said, smiling. "A man has to relax every now and then."
"I didn't know you felt that way, John."
"But I do, I do -- I don't make a habit of it, that's all." Breton noticed
the other man's use of his Christian name, and tried unsuccessfully to
think of Convery's. This is incredible, he thought. How can a man have such bad luck?
Convery smiled, showing very white teeth made even more brilliant in
places by slight fluoride mottling. "I'm glad to hear you don't work
all the time, John -- it makes me feel less of a slob."
John again, Breton thought. I can't call him Lieutenant if we're on
first-name terms. "Well, what brings you out this way?"
"Nothing much -- a couple of routine calls in the area." Convery reached
into his pocket. "So I brought this." He brought out a brown pebble-like
object and handed it to Breton.
"Oh, yes." Breton inspected the object, noting its segmented, spiral
construction. "Oh, yes?"
"Yeah. My boy got it from another kid at school. I told him I'd get you
to . . ." He let his voice trail away, and stood waiting.
Breton stared down at the coiled stone, mind racing desperately. He
remembered Kate saying that Convery sometimes called to drink coffee
with John and talk about fossils. Presumably this was because John had
some professional knowledge of geology. Did it include fossils? He tried
to send his mind back more than nine years to the time when he too had
been interested in the rock-embalmed time travelers.
"This is a reasonably fair ammonite," he said, praying that Convery
merely wanted a simple identification.
Convery nodded. "Age?"
"About two hundred and fifty million years -- hard to say for sure
without knowing where it was found."
"Thanks." Convery took the fossil back and dropped it in his pocket.
His intelligent blue eyes flickered momentarily and Breton suddenly knew
that his relationship with the other Breton was a complex and uneasy thing.
"Say, John?"
"Uh-huh?" Why, Breton wondered, did he insist on using the first name
so much?
"You're losing some weight, aren't you?"
"It's nice of you to notice it. A fellow can get discouraged if he goes
on dieting for weeks without any obvious result."
"I'd say you've lost seven or eight pounds."
"That's about right -- and I really feel better for it."
"I think you looked better the way you were, John," Convery said
thoughtfully. "You look tired."
"I am tired -- that's why I took the afternoon off." Breton laughed,
and Convery joined in.
Breton remembered the coffee. "Do you feel like risking a cup of coffee
brewed with my own hand? Kate's out shopping."
"Where's Mrs. Fitz?"
Breton's mind went numb, then be recalled that Mrs. Fitz was the
cook-housekeeper. "We gave her a few days off," he said easily. "She
has to rest too, you know."
"I guess I'll just have to risk your coffee then, John."
Convery pushed open the kitchen door and ushered Breton inside. While
Breton was preparing the coffee he considered the problem of the fact
that they were supposed to know each other's preferences about cream
and sugar, and circumvented it by setting both on the kitchen table in
advance. He found the familiar domestic activity relaxing, realizing
he had been needlessly alarmed over Convery's visit. Kate had said the
policeman sometimes dropped by to talk about fossils and drink coffee --
and that was exactly what was happening. Even if Kate were to return
right then there would be nothing to arouse Convery's curiosity, and
John Breton was not expected for at least three
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