by Clark South
know how? If he cannot help us?"
"That'll be too bad. Because then we'll just keep on strangling him." Helaughed harshly. "Oh, yes. Vance may win. We may not be able to saveElaine. But"--and his face was terrible to see--"Vance certainly won'tlive long enough to gloat much!"
A spark of hope sprang into Professor Duchard's blue eyes.
"I wish I could believe you--"
"Forget it. We've got more important things to do than wishing. Look outthat window!"
* * * * *
The white-haired scientist turned to the casement toward which the otherpointed. Saw dawn reddening the eastern sky.
"It's morning already," Mark went on determinedly. "In a few hours more,we can start things rolling by having you call up Vance."
"Call up Vance? What would I say?"
The devil's bitter mirth played in the other's eyes. But it was a mirthspiked with menace.
"Simple. Just don't let on anything's wrong. Pretend that the wedding'sto come off as scheduled. Then tell him that things are in a mess. Allthe excitement's got you tied in a knot. Because he's such a closefriend of Elaine's, you thought maybe he'd be willing to lend a hand."
The spark of hope in the professor's eyes brightened to a glowing coal.
"I wonder...." he mused. "It might work--"
"Of course it'll work. It's got to. It's the only chance we have...."
It was nine fifteen precisely when Adrian Vance rang the doorbell. Hestepped back. Polished the nails of his right hand on the grey suedeglove which still garbed the left.
The door swung open.
"Good morning, professor."
"Good morning, Adrian." The savant stepped aside. "Please come in."
Not by the slightest vocal tremor or change of expression did the oldman hint of his secret--that if necessary Adrian Vance would never leavethis place alive!
"It is kind of you to come," he told the antiquarian as he led the waytoward the back of the dwelling. "I never knew that a wedding couldcause so much turmoil." He chuckled softly. "Of course, I have hadlittle experience in such matters, my wife being dead and Elaine an onlychild. And my own nuptials were celebrated a good many years ago."
Every word, every inflection, was perfect. No actor could have matchedthat sinister soliloquy.
Vance smoothed the sleek black hair that at once crowned andcharacterized him.
"It's a great privilege to be allowed to assist in any way at Elaine'swedding," he observed unctuously. "Anything which I can do to help makethis a happier occasion for her is a pleasure."
Blue fire flared in the scientist's eyes. He looked away quickly.
A moment later his composure was regained.
"There are some things in the laboratory I wish to bring to the house,"he announced. "If you will come this way--" He opened the back door. Ledthe antique dealer down the brick walk to the laboratory.
Together, they stepped inside.
The door swung shut. In the silence its jarring slam echoed like a shotfired in a tomb.
Vance cleared his throat.
"So this is your laboratory, professor--"
* * * * *
Mark Carter stepped out of the shadows. His tanned face looked as if ithad been carved from the rock of ages. His eyes were pools of suddendeath.
He spoke:
"Elaine's gone, Vance. Through the mirror. We want her back."
Just that. Nothing more. But suddenly Vance was shaking.
"What are you talking about? I don't know what you mean."
Professor Duchard said:
"You are lying. I have examined the mirror. I tested with black light.It showed the picture of the first Elaine Duchard."
"You're mad," said Vance. "You don't make sense."
"I fear I make too much sense, Adrian Vance. I wish I could disbelievemy own mind. But I cannot. I know that you have found a way to pass thebarrier between space and time. I know that you have projected Elaine'smind into the past, leaving her body behind in a state of suspendedanimation."
"And we want her back, Vance," Mark broke in. "We want her back rightnow!"
He was moving forward, a juggernaut of menace, clenched fistshalf-raised.
"Keep away from me!" the antiquarian shrilled. His greasy face waspaste-colored with terror. "Keep away! Don't touch me!"
The other caught his shoulders. Shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.
"Tell us!" he thundered. "Tell us how to bring her back!"
"I don't know what you're talking about! There wasn't anything wrongwith the mirror I sent Elaine!"
"Tell us--"
The professor caught Mark's arm.
"Stop!" he begged. "Do not hurt him. There is a better way."
"A better way? What do you mean?"
The scientist turned to Vance.
"I am sure you are telling the truth," he said. "I feel certain themirror is harmless." His tone was silky. A thin smile rippled across hisaged face.
He was like a cat playing with a mouse.
"Only our friend, young Mr. Carter, remains to be convinced," he wenton. "However, we shall have no difficulty in proving him wrong."
Adrian Vance stared at the professor in terrified fascination. His lipsmoved, but no words came.
The savant hurried across to an ancient desk which stood in one corner.Rummaged through it. Came back with a big sheet of heavy paper.
"Over there," said the professor--gesturing toward the spot where themirror still stood upon the easel, again shrouded by the tablecloth--"isthe glass that has caused all the trouble."
He smiled sympathetically at Vance.
"All so unnecessary, too, Adrian!"
"Unnecessary?"
"Of course. We shall demonstrate to Mark right now that it is not ameans of time travel."
"Demonstrate?" Vance was shaking again. "How?"
* * * * *
Again the professor smiled.
"Oh, very simply. I have here"--he held up the heavy paper--"alithographed portrait of the late General George A. Custer. You willrecall he was killed by Indians at the battle of Little BigHorn--popularly known as Custer's last stand."
Vance's teeth suddenly were chattering.
"We shall hang this picture on your chest, Adrian," Professor Duchardwent on. "Then we shall stand you in front of that mirror and give you achance to concentrate on the reflection." He chuckled softly. "Ofcourse, since the mirror has nothing to do with time travel, you needhave no fear of your mind leaving your body and going back to that ofGeneral Custer, and death in a Sioux massacre--"
Without warning, Vance erupted into action.
As if by magic, the panic fled his face. His features contorted withhate. His eyes suddenly were glistening pinpoints of jet.
And even faster moved his sinuous body. He snaked free of Mark'srestraining grasp. Sprang back like a wounded tiger. His right handdarted under his coat to his left armpit like a Gila monster streakingfor cover.
Mark Carter's lips twisted in a snarl of rage. He lunged after theantiquarian, big fists balled and deadly.
"Look out!"
It was Professor Duchard, his voice a shrill warning blast.
Mark's eyes shifted. He caught the sudden spearing movement of Vance'sright hand. Lashed out in savage fury to meet the new threat.
The antiquarian shrank back. The other's fist drove by him. Missed himby a hair.
And then his right hand was back in view. Back, and gripping the butt ofa long-barreled Smith & Wesson Magnum. His teeth were bared, in agrimace of hideous triumph.
Like a rattlesnake striking, he slashed out with the heavy gun. Broughtit down at his adversary's head in a vicious blow.
Mark still reeled, off balance, from his own missed blow. But he saw thegun descending. Threw up his arm to ward it off.
The barrel caught him at the juncture of shoulder and collar bones. Sentscreaming pain stabbing to the farthest reaches of his b
rain. Paralyzedhis whole side. He staggered drunkenly.
Again that triumphant leer contorted Vance's hatchet face. Once more hewhipped the pistol barrel down.
And this time his aim was true. This time the heavy gun slammed homesquare at the base of the other's brain.
The universe was exploding inside Mark's skull. A crimson universe, withplanets that burst into bloody flame. His control centers went numb. Thelife vanished from his muscles. He felt himself falling ... falling ...falling....
* * * * *
As if in some macabre nightmare, he heard Adrian Vance laugh. Saw
