“Bring the stretcher, Oakham,” he ordered.
Hale brought the stretcher, placing it close to the machine. Then Sir Basil opened a metal door and gently eased out a human body.
It was Unani Assu, unconscious but alive and breathing. Hale, helping the scientist to get the man on the stretcher, noticed that the crushed legs were perfectly healed. Together they bore him to a long seat. The Indian’s eyes were still closed, but his even breathing indicated that he was only sleeping.
Suddenly Hale pointed a finger and cried out. “My God, Sir Basil, look at his hands and feet!”
Unani Assu, still lying like a recumbent bronze statue sculptured by a master, was perfect from shoulder to wrist, from thigh to ankle. But, somewhere in that diabolical machine through which he had passed, his hands and feet had undergone a hideous metamorphism which had transformed them from the well-formed extremities of a splendid young Indian into the hairy paws of a giant rat!
Hale turned away his head, sick with disgust.
Sir Basil cut the silence triumphantly:
“Now he’ll never again face Aña with love in his eyes!”
“What!” broke in Hale. “Did you plan this monstrous thing?”