The Vandercook building, the twelve-story building whose lights Jeter had seen moving, was rising bodily, straight out of the well which had been built around it. From the building came shrieks and cries of mortal terror. Even as the conference froze to horrified immobility, many men and women stepped to the ledges of those darkened windows and plunged out in their fear.
"God!" said Hadley.
"It's just as well," said Jeter in a far-away voice, "they haven't a chance anyway!"
"I know," replied Hadley. "God, Jeter, isn't there something we can do?"
"I hope to find something," said Jeter. "But just now I'm afraid we are helpless."
The Vandercook building continued to rise. It did not totter; it simply rose in its entirety, leaving the gaping hole into which, decades ago, it had been built. It rose straight into the sky, apparently of its own volition. No rays of light, no supernatural agencies could be seen or fancied. The utterly impossible was happening. A building was a-wing.
Jeter and Eyer looked at each other with protruding eyes.
Then they looked back at the Vandercook, whose base now was on a level with the roof of the Hadley building.
"See?" said Hadley. "Not so much as a brick falls from the foundation. It's—it's—ghastly."