Then a small table came into view on which was an oddly shaped instrument with a small tube something like that of a camera.
As Joe watched it breathlessly a sharp flash darted from the tube, quickly followed by others, until the instrument seemed to be spitting a shower of sparks.
The mysterious ray was getting in its work!
CHAPTER XXVII
TOO LATE
Joe tiptoed to the door between the two rooms.
“Feel anything queer, Jim?” he asked his companion.
“Just beginning to,” answered Jim, not turning his head or taking his eyes off the paper. “I’m starting to feel drowsy and the old tingling sensation is going through my arm.”
“Pretend to nod,” counseled Joe. “Then let the paper fall from your hand and slump down off your chair to the floor. We don’t want to let that infernal machine do any more mischief. We’ve got all the proof we want.”
Joe returned to his post of vantage. The sparks were still coming from the machine.