In his hand was a shining metal frame, hardly larger than a small clock, and very finely made. There was ivory in it, and some clear material like crystal. He put it on a small table by the fire, next to a bright lamp. We all sat or stood close around him. With so many candles and so many eyes, I do not believe that anyone could play a trick on us.
“This little thing is only a model,” said the Time Traveller. “It is my plan for a machine to travel through time. It took two years to make. Here is one little white lever, and here is another. When I press this lever, the machine goes into the future. This other one sends it back. And this is the saddle, where a time traveller sits. Look at it carefully, and look at the table too, so that you know there is no trick.”
He put out his finger towards the lever. Then he stopped. “No,” he said. “Give me your hand.” He took the Psychologist’s hand and told him to put out one finger. So it was the Psychologist himself who sent the little machine on its endless journey. We all saw the lever turn. There was a breath of wind, and the flame of the lamp jumped. One of the candles went out. The little machine turned round, looked like a ghost for a second, and then it was gone. The table was empty except for the lamp.
For a minute nobody spoke. Then Filby swore. The Psychologist looked under the table, and the Time Traveller laughed.
“Are you serious?” said the Medical Man. “Do you really believe that the machine has travelled through time?”
“Certainly,” said the Time Traveller, and he lit his pipe. “Into the future or the past—I don’t know which. And I have a big machine nearly finished in there.” He pointed towards the laboratory. “When it is ready, I am going to make a journey myself.”
“But if the model went into the past,” I said, “we would have seen it when we came into this room. And last Thursday, and the Thursday before!”
The Time Traveller turned to the Psychologist. “You can explain that.”
“Of course,” said the Psychologist. “We cannot see the spokes of a fast wheel, or a bullet flying through the air. If the machine travels through time a hundred times faster than we do, we cannot see it either.” He passed his hand through the space where the machine had been, and he laughed.
“It sounds possible tonight,” said the Medical Man. “But wait for the common sense of the morning.”
“Would you like to see the Time Machine itself?” asked the Time Traveller. He took the lamp and led us down the long, cold corridor to his laboratory. There we saw a larger copy of the little machine that had disappeared in front of our eyes. Parts of it were nickel, parts were ivory, and parts were cut from rock crystal. It was almost finished, but some twisted crystal bars still lay on the bench.
“Look here,” said the Medical Man, “is this a trick, like that ghost you showed us last Christmas?”
“On that machine,” said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp high, “I am going to explore time. I was never more serious in my life.”
None of us knew what to think. Over the Medical Man’s shoulder I caught Filby’s eye, and he gave me a slow, serious wink.