Harry remained speechless, his eyes fixed upon the box: at last he turned to her.
‘Is it,’ he asked hoarsely, ‘an infernal machine?’
Her lips formed the word ‘Yes,’ which her voice refused to utter.
With fearful curiosity, he drew near and bent above the box; in that still chamber, the ticking was distinctly audible; and at the measured sound, the blood flowed back upon his heart.
‘For whom?’ he asked.
‘What matters it,’ she cried, seizing him by the arm. ‘If you may still be saved, what matter questions?’
‘God in heaven!’ cried Harry. ‘And the Children’s Hospital! At whatever cost, this damned contrivance must be stopped!’
‘It cannot,’ she gasped. ‘The power of man cannot avert the blow. But you, Harry—you, my beloved—you may still—’
And then from the box that lay so quietly in the corner, a sudden catch was audible, like the catch of a clock before it strikes the hour. For one second the two stared at each other with lifted brows and stony eyes. Then Harry, throwing one arm over his face, with the other clutched the girl to his breast and staggered against the wall.
A dull and startling thud resounded through the room; their eyes blinked against the coming horror; and still clinging together like drowning people, they fell to the floor. Then followed a prolonged and strident hissing as from the indignant pit; an offensive stench seized them by the throat; the room was filled with dense and choking fumes.