“Don’t let Strange’s outer persona fool you,” warned Sebastian.   “He appears to be a giggling cretin … but in reality the man is an evil genius, with an I.Q. of over 200.”

“Strange seemed to be the missing link for Matthews.   Strange had been employed at the Woomera Rocket Range, in South Australia, working on super-secret nuclear reactor experiments for twenty years from the early 1950s.   Then in 1973 there was a catastrophe at Woomera.   A nuclear reactor went into overload and temporarily opened a portal between Woomera and far off Zygony, almost allowing Great Zygone and the Quinoids to storm into existence in the desert of South Australia.   As a result the “rocket range” was shut down and blown up.   However, Strange was confident that he could reproduce the result — which had included a partial materialisation of Great Zygone himself.   But to avoid any trouble with the Australian or English Governments (the latter of whom had actually been in charge of Woomera), Strange moved his operations from South Australia to Victoria ….”

“And promptly met up with Morton Matthews,” put in Eleanor.

“As far back as August 1980 Matthews and Strange set off a controlled nuclear reaction on the far side of Mount Peterson and managed to open a portal between our world and far off Zygony.   However, to date they have not been able to properly control the portal, or call anything through.   Nonetheless I fear that they might be on the brink of success … if it can be called that.   Heaven alone knows how those two lunatics expect to control Great Zygone, the Zygots, the Quinoids, or anything else that manages to get through, if they do manage to call them through the portal.   Heaven help the world if anything does make it through the portal between Earth and far off Zygony …!”

As I listened to the Hilliards’ strange tale, I started to wonder about the sanity of the locals, and started to become increasingly convinced that my best bet might be to sell the Gables to Matthews and Strange (if I ever saw them again).

Seeing a sad look come into the pale blue eyes of Eleanor Hilliard, I realised that she was aware of what I was thinking.   A fact confirmed when she hurriedly interrupted her husband to announce that they had to be leaving.