"Perhaps there is. I have been working on equipment to prevent fighter pilots 'blacking out' during power dives, and I believe there is a relationship between time travel and terrific speeds in space. It is possible that I could insulate you—"
"That's all I need, then. Make me a mirror, professor, and something to insulate me—"
"But you have no focal point! You might go through time to a place a thousand miles and a thousand years from where Elaine is captive—"
Mark laughed harshly.
"Wrong, professor! I've got the most accurate focal point in the world. Or I will have—"
"The most accurate—? What do you mean?" The old man's face was bewildered.
"I'll have the same focal point Elaine had, sir: Gustav Jerbette's painting, 'Elaine Duchard's Escape'." Again that laugh. "I'm going now to steal it from Adrian Vance!"
The house of Adrian Vance was one befitting a professional dealer in antiquities. It set far back from the street, towering against the sky like the black bulk of a medieval castle. A high iron fence surrounded it.
At this moment Mark Carter stood surveying the estate from the shelter of a nearby clump of trees.
"It's like a damned fortress!" he muttered to himself. "He's taking no chances on anyone getting in."