“I noticed that you were, Professor. But before you sit down again, please unlock that door.”
“Why?” he asked, pausing on his way to the chair.
“Because I wish it open.”
“And I,” he said in a higher tone, “wish it to remain locked until we have come to some understanding. I can’t let you go out now; but I shall permit you to go unmolested as soon as you have made some explanation to me.”
“If you do not unlock the door immediately I shall take this machine and fling it through the front window out on the street. The crashing glass on the pavement will soon bring someone to my rescue, Professor, and, as I have a voice of my own and small hesitation about shouting, I shall have little difficulty in directing the strangers where to come.”
As Jennie spoke she moved swiftly towards the table on which stood the strange aggregation of reflectors and bent glass tubing.
“No, no, no!” screamed the Professor, springing between her and the table. “Touch anything but that—anything but that. Do not disturb it an inch—there is danger—death not only to you and me, but perhaps to the whole city. Keep away from it!”
“Very well, then,” said Jennie, stepping back in spite of her endeavour to maintain her self-control; “open the door. Open both doors and leave them so. After that, if you remain seated in your chair, I shall not touch the machine, nor shall I leave until I make the explanations you require, and you have answered some questions that I shall ask. But I must have a clear way to the stair, in case you should become excited again.”
“I’ll unlock the doors; I’ll unlock both doors,” replied the old man tremulously, fumbling about in his pockets for his keys. “But keep away from that machine, unless you want to bring swift destruction on us all.”
With an eagerness that retarded his speed, the Professor, constantly looking over his shoulder at his visitor, unlocked the first door, then hastily he flung open the second, and tottered back to his chair, where he collapsed on the tiger skin, trembling and exhausted.