This time the head shook from side to side, ever so slightly.
“Two blocks above Christopher?”
But this question was never destined to be answered. The giant anthropoid in whose skull-pan was the brain of Harold Hervey, entirely controlled by Caleb Barter, until Bentley had shot the little metal ball from his head, had died.
Bentley rose and looked down at the anthropoid for several seconds.
“Barter will hate to lose this creature,” he said. “He probably has just the number of apes he needs––and Tyler, here’s a hunch: he’ll need an ape to take the place of this one! Get me the best surgeon to be found in Manhattan, and get him as fast as you can!”
“Good God!” ejaculated Tyler. “What do you want a surgeon for? What are you going to do?”
“Barter needs an ape to take the place of this one. I shall be that ape!”