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muchgood living.

  And he looked even more frightened than Broom had been a few minutesbefore.

  He was saying something in a language that Broom did not understand, andthe tenseness in his voice betrayed his fear. Broom relaxed. He hadnothing to fear from this little man.

  "I won't hurt you," Broom said. "I had no intention of intruding on yourproperty, but all I ask is help."

  The little man was blinking and backing away, as though he were going toturn and bolt at any moment.

  Broom laughed. "You have nothing to fear from me, little man. Permit meto introduce myself. I am Richard Broom, known as--" He stopped, and hiseyes widened. Total memory flooded over him as he realized fully who hewas and where he belonged.

  And the fear hit him again in a raging flood, sweeping over his mind andblotting it out. Again, the darkness came.

  * * * * *

  This time, the blackness faded quickly. There was a face, a worriedface, looking at him through an aperture in the stone wall. Thesurroundings were so familiar, that the bits of memory which had beenscattered again during the passage through centuries of time came backmore quickly and settled back into their accustomed pattern more easily.

  The face was that of the Italian, Contarini. He was looking both worriedand disappointed.

  "You were not gone long, my lord king," he said. "But you _were_ gone.Of that there can be no doubt. Why did you return?"

  Richard Broom sat up on his palette of straw. The scene in the strangebuilding already seemed dreamlike, but the fear was still there. "Icouldn't remember," he said softly. "I couldn't remember who I was norwhy I had gone to that ... that place. And when I remembered, I cameback."

  Contarini nodded sadly. "It is as I have heard. The memory ties one toostrongly to the past--to one's own time. One must return as soon as themind had adjusted. I am sorry, my friend; I had hoped we could escape.But now it appears that we must wait until our ransoms are paid. And Imuch fear that mine will never be paid."

  "Nor mine," said the big man dully. "My faithful Blondin found me, buthe may not have returned to London. And even if he has, my brother Johnmay be reluctant to raise the money."

  "What? Would England hesitate to ransom the brave king who has fought sogallantly in the Holy Crusades? Never! You will be free, my friend."

  But Richard Plantagenet just stared at the little dish that he stillheld in his hand, the fear still in his heart. Men would still call him"Lion-hearted," but he knew that he would never again deserve the title.

  * * * * *

  And, nearly eight centuries away in time and thousands of miles away inspace, a Mr. Edward Jasperson was speaking hurriedly into the telephonethat stood by the electric typewriter on his desk.

  "That's right, Officer; Suite 8601, Empire State Building. I was workinglate, and I left the lights on in my office when I went out to get a cupof coffee. When I came back, he was here--a big, bearded man, wearing athing that looked like a monk's robe made out of gunny sack. What? No, Ilocked the door when I left. What? Well, the only thing that's missingas far as I can tell is a ceramic ash tray from one of the desks; he washolding that in his hand when I saw him. What? Oh. Where did he go?" Mr.Jasperson paused in his rush of words. "Well, I must have gotten alittle dizzy--I was pretty shocked, you know. To be honest, I didn't seewhere he went. I must have fainted.

  "But I think you can pick him up if you hurry. With that getup on, hecan't get very far away. All right. Thank you, Officer."

  He cradled the phone, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbedat his damp forehead. He was a very frightened little man, but he knewhe'd get over it by morning.

  THE END