"So that is it!" he said. "That is what he has done to her!"
There was fear in his voice ... living, breathing fear. That and despair. The despair of utter hopelessness. His shoulders sagged with it. The sparkle had gone out of his eyes.
Mark gripped the old man's arm. Blood lust flamed in his own brown orbs. Every muscle was taut. The cords in his neck stood out like knotted ropes.
"What is it?" he demanded savagely. "Is it Vance? What has he done to her?"
Wearily, the scientist pulled his arm away and gestured the other to a seat.
"I shall tell you," he said. "You will not believe me, but I shall tell you."
"Yes. Go on. I'll decide for myself whether I'll believe you or not."
The professor stared into Mark's eyes.
"How much do you know about time?" he demanded.