He was standing before an open gate, staring in at the courtyard of a large, pretentious stone building. Before the gate stood two guards who evidently had been frozen just as they were turning about to stare in through the entrance. On their faces was a look of aroused inquiry. Inside the courtyard was a dramatic tableau.
A young woman of great beauty was fixed in the posture of running. Her foot was lifted from the ground, her body thrust forward, her face strained, hair flowing backwards as if the wind were brushing it back. In one hand, tightly grasped, was a scroll.
Directly behind her stood a young man with a look of astonishment and anger on a face that was cruel and evil. His hand was still held outstretched as if to grasp after the scroll that the woman was fleeing with. All about, in similar positions of astonishment and anxiety, were other men, some of whom had started forward as if about to commence a pursuit.
"Some scene, eh?" murmured Barth. "Looks real dramatic. I wish we could know what it was all about."
"That's an idea!" burst from Wanderman. "Why didn't I think of it sooner? Barth! We can use the mentascope on these frozen people—with the attachments that are used to read the minds of the newly dead, can't we?"
"I think we can, Captain. These people are perfectly preserved; there's no reason why we can't shoot a current through their brains and get the information stored there."
They turned, commenced to retrace their steps to the ship. It took them about ten minutes to reach the street by which they had entered the city and come to the vessel. Once inside, they hastened to unpack the mentascope and its attendant apparatus. When at last they were ready, they left the airlock and started back; the return to the ship had taken them about twenty minutes.
They entered the street of the city they had first chanced upon. As they passed the first figure, Weber suddenly whirled around and stared at it.
"Look! Stop and look at this man!"