"You've set the stopwatch?" warned Jerry.
"I depress the starter the same instant I turn on the machine," said Bob.
"All right, then," said Jerry.
Bob's right hand threw a switch.
Even as it snapped home, his left thumb had jabbed down upon the stopwatch button. The long red sweephand began clicking with relentless eagerness about the dial.
On the couch Jerry stiffened, then relaxed.
"You'd better stay with him," Bob cautioned Jana. "The machine's on automatic. If I'm not back on time, it'll take care of itself."
"Back on time?" she gasped. "But you can't be, Bob. If what he said about the timing—"
Bob shut his eyes and gripped his forehead between thumb and fingers. "Yes, of course. I'm being an idiot. This maneuver is something new. But—" he withdrew his hand from his face and smiled at the girl—"you stay with him anyhow. I'd feel better—safer—if you weren't with me and the others."
"Yes, Bob," she said, in a faint shadow of her normal voice. "Be careful."