Chapter VIII

I must go back to that time at dawn in Central Park, when we were set upon by Turber and his men. I recall that something struck me and I fell. Turber was holding Nanette. I caught him by the legs as I went down, but he kicked me off. Then I was struck again and everything went black. When I recovered consciousness I was lying on a bunk in a small cabin of Turber’s ship. I seemed not greatly hurt. I sat up, wholly confused at first; then lay down again, listening to the hum of the room, feeling the metal bunk vibrating beneath me.

My head was roaring, my hair was matted with blood from a ragged scalp wound, and I was sore and bruised all over. But I lay and felt my strength coming back.

I was alone in the tiny cabin. It was not much more than twice the size of the bed. There was a vague silver glow in it; I could see a small window with a transparent pane. And a door. The door stood ajar. I got to the floor on my feet and stood swaying dizzily. I felt queerly light-headed—as though I were about to float away. My revolver was gone, so were my overcoat and hat and outer jacket. I lurched to the window. The ship seemed poised a hundred feet or so above the ground. I gazed, incredulous, at a blurred, shifting, melting landscape.

The ship was traveling in Time. But I recall that in my confusion, only half conscious, I could not realize what this might mean. And suddenly I was faint. I tumbled back onto the cot. I fainted—or drifted away into sleep.

I was awakened by a sound near me. I sat up abruptly, this time fully conscious and clear-headed. Turber stood in the cabin regarding me.

“Well, you’ve come to yourself at last?”

I sank back on one elbow. “Yes. What are you doing to me?” I gulped with a sudden thought. “Where is—where’s Nanette?”

“So you’re worried about her? Be consoled—she’s worried about you. And she has cause.”

He stood toying with his ribbon, dangling his glasses. He was dressed as I had seen him at the hospital. He regarded me sardonically.

“You’re alive—let that suffice.”

I moved to get up, but he waved me back. “Don’t bother. You will annoy us if you come out. Are you hungry?”

“No,” I said.

“Nanette and I will be breakfasting presently.”

I added, “I am hungry.”

That amused him. My mind was active now—fully alert. I asked. “We’re traveling in Time, aren’t we?

Where are we going? What do you want with Nanette and me? This is all very strange.”

I was trying to gauge him.I manageda smile, asthough my situation were annoying, but nothing more.

“Shall I come out and have something to eat with you?”

His smile broadened. Satanic scoundrel. Inscrutable. He said:

“Yes. I’ll call you.” And then his whole face changed as though a mask had dropped upon it. He rasped:

“You, Edward Williams— what are you to Nanette?”

It took me wholly by surprise. I stammered: “Why, an old friend.”

“Yes?” He changed again. He purred it. His hunched shoulders were exaggerated as he leaned forward, and his fingers were unconsciously stroking his waistcoat. “Yes? Nothing more than that?”

More than that! It flooded me now; I knew in that instant what all my life I had not known before—how dear Nanette had grown to me—of all the world, most dear.

I must have been stammering. He cut me short. “Strange that Fate should have delivered you into my hands.” Purring again; he seemed like a cat, licking his lips. His eyes roved me. “She loves you.”

I gathered my wits. “What are you talking about? Nanette love me? What nonsense!” My tone sounded hollow; his black gaze was boring into me. I said boldly: “Why should it bother you?”

I wondered why hehad not already killed me. He answered, not only my question, but almost my thought.

“A girl who amounts to nothing, but it happens that I love her. Wolf Turber—the great Wolf Turber—you would not think it of me, would you?”

Unfathomable fellow! There was almost sincerity mixed with the irony of his tone. “And because I want her love—she has just a little hold over me.” He added wryly: “I’ve just now promised her I would not kill you. She thinksof nothing else, so I promised her—to get it off her mind.”

I managed, “Well, I thank you both.”

“You need not. Her brother Alan—there is no complication with him since we left him dead back there in the park.”

It sent a shudder over me but somehow I did not believe it.

A man stood at the door. “Wolf Turber, will you come?”

“Coming, Jonas.”

Turber leaned smilingly over me. Against all my will, I shrank back from his grinning, massive face.

“I will not kill you. But this you need not mention to Nanette— there are things not so pleasant as being swiftly killed. We will take you with us. She and I—we’ll take you to my great city. And when we get there she will see you as ahideous object, Williams.” His chuckle was gruesome. “If she has love in her heart for you, it will vanish when she beholds you as you will be then.”

He straightened. “Lie where you are. When I call you can come out—if you promise not to be troublesome.”

He closed the door upon me.