"You fiend! Not even a savage would do a thing like that!"

Vance chuckled evilly.

"You exaggerate," he sneered. "Besides, Elaine's sweetheart, here"--he
prodded the still-prone Mark with his foot--"no doubt will protect her."

His face darkened.

"And if you did not want harm to befall her, why did you let her reject
me when I asked to marry her? I gave her her chance. When she didn't
take it, what else could she expect but my revenge?"

"Go away. Please go away."

* * * * *

On the floor, Mark stirred uneasily. His brain was clear now, though his
head throbbed like a jungle tom-tom under the beat of a mad witch
doctor. Slowly, he tried his muscles. Tensed them. Relaxed them. Tested
them for complete control.

Vance said:

"In case you still have any notions of rescuing your daughter from the
far reaches of time, professor, forget them now. It's impossible to call
a person back. In the first place, a time mirror would be needed--and
the only one in existence, the one I bought from a French sorcerer who
once studied under Eliphas Levi, now stands on that easel in the
corner."

Sobs racked the other's frail form. He still leaned against the bench,
his face buried in his hands.

But on the floor, Mark Carter's jaw grew hard. He readied himself for a
savage leap.

"Furthermore," their captor went on, "your precious Elaine remembers
nothing of her life in this century. For all practical purposes she has
become the first Elaine Duchard. I know this, because I tried out the
mirror by sending one of my clerks three months into the past. He was
possessed by a strange amnesia that left his mind a perfect blank so far
as what had happened in those three months was concerned!"

The antiquarian paused, savoring the full effect of his words on
Elaine's father with evil glee. His black eyes were shining with hell's
own fire.

And in that tense, silent second, Mark Carter struck.

He came off the floor like a tiger springing, and the roar of a jungle
beast was in his throat. His arms shot out to embrace Adrian Vance's
legs and pull him down. His fingers hungered for the feel of his
enemy's throat.

He was still in the air when the other moved. Like lightning, Vance
leaped aside. Away from Mark's clutching hands. He landed, tense and
poised, the gun in his fist sighted on young Carter's chest, a grin of
triumph splitting his oily face.

"Did you think I was asleep, you fool?" he cr