Nat was poised, ready to move in when the agent dropped his guard. Then he suddenly felt stark terror as he saw the man pull out a small paralysis gun.
"I think I'll immobilize you, Lyon, while I get better acquainted with your girl friend," he rasped.
Nat jumped, but the ray gun caught him in mid-air.
His thoughts as he regained consciousness later were an agony of confusion. Feeling the familiar sensation of a time machine in motion, he filled in the blank about what must have happened to Abby. Sick with resignation he opened his eyes, then sat up quickly, blinking in disbelief, for Abby was sitting at the controls of the machine.
Her blouse was soiled and ripped, her hair mussed and Nat thought he saw blood on her skirt. But she was humming a tune as she checked the dials.
"Abby," Nat cried. "Are you all right?"
Her smile said more than words. "You seem to forget, my dear husband," she said happily, coming over to him. "We tender New England pioneers learned a few things about self protection."
"What happened?"
Abby shuddered. "It wasn't pleasant, having that beast paw me, but my apparent willingness threw him off guard. About the time he started ripping my clothing off, I used the little dagger we picked up in Renaissance Italy." Suddenly a sob broke through her artificial gaiety and she was in Nat's arms, her control completely gone. Her body racked with sobs, tears streaming down her face.