For the barest fraction of a second Mark halted in mid-stride. The spotlight was swinging toward him.
But the gate was only a dozen yards away. He made for it in a mad rush. Bullets sang about him. Slugs ricocheted from the iron spikes. But on he went. Lunged through the opening and into the shadowy fastnesses across the street.
The return to Professor Duchard's laboratory was a nightmare of mad dashes and narrow escapes. Squad cars seemed everywhere. Police always on his heels.
And then—
He was slipping through the door, alive and unharmed, with the picture clasped under his arm!
The professor jerked about from the task of hanging a new and bigger time mirror on the easel. It still was shrouded with a heavy cloth.
"It's ready?"
The scientist nodded.
"Yes. I got special co-operation from an old friend who is manager of a glass works." He paused. "And you?"
Mark waved the Jerbette.