In the lower tower room they found San still intent upon his dials. He drew Alan over and indicated that single dial which to Alan was legible. It marked 6650 A.D. The pointer was traveling much faster than when Alan had seen it before; but as he watched it now he could see that it was slackening. He sat regarding it; listening to the musical, unintelligible words of his two companions.
Then they gave him food and drink. And Lea again examined his bruised shoulder and the gash on his head. But they were not serious; he had forgotten them.
6700 A.D. 6800 A.D. The tower's flight was slowing; the hum of the room seemed progressively at a lower pitch. They were nearing their destination; preparing to stop in 7012.
Alan's mind again went to Nanette and me. Where were we in all these whirling years? A sense of loneliness, depression swept him. He felt utterly baffled, helpless. But he tried to shake it off. He said aloud, as though to cheer himself:
"Lea—see here—I've got to talk to you. Understand?" It seemed almost that she did. "My sister, Nanette—that villain Turber has her—he's always wanted her, understand? I've got to get her back, Lea. Damn it, I've got to find him—get her away from him!"
But all Lea could do was touch him sympathetically.
Baffled. This cursed barrier of language! "Lea, what is Turber to you?"
San, with readier wit, pointed again to the dial. Indicated 7012, and then gestured to his lips.
Alan nodded. "Yes, I understand—when we get there we can talk."