Henry Hasse

So it was with such thoughts that Pencill turned to the first page. “The End of Time by Hamil Edmondton,” he read aloud, as was his habit when alone. With but a causual interest he began the story; but as the clock ticked and he read on, this interest became more than a casual one, and soon he was reading carefully, keenly, and with much enjoyment. On and on he read, and inexorable Fate slowly marshalled her forces in favor of the heroes case into time, and Pencill became aware that soon the story must end. End it did, in a very logical and pleasing way, and Pencill reluctantly placed the manuscript on his desk.

Did you ever see a man suddenly materilize out of thin air directly in front of you, directly on the spot where you had been looking at nothing the instant before? If not, you must try it some time. It must be a very astonishing spectacle. That’s what happened to B. Lue Pencill . . .