Then there was only madness, and Denham was bound beside the man of the Golden City, and Evelyn was the center of a fighting group which was suddenly flung aside by the bearded giant, and the encampment of the Ragged Men was bedlam. And somehow Tommy knew with a terrible clarity that a man of the Golden City to torture was bliss unimaginable to these half-mad enemies of that city. But a woman—
He turned from the instrument, three-quarters out of his head. He literally did not see Von Holtz gazing furtively in the doorway. His eyes were fixed and staring. It seemed that his brain would burst.
Then he heard his own voice saying with an altogether unbelievable steadiness:
“Smithers! They’ve got Evelyn. Get the sub-machine gun.”
Smithers cried out hoarsely. His face was not quite human, for an instant. But Tommy was bringing the work bench on which he had installed his magnetic catapult, close over by the dimensoscope.
“This cannot work,” he said in the same incredible calmness. “Not possibly. It should not work. It will not work. But it has to work!”
He was clamping the catapult to a piece of heavy timber.
“Put the gun so it shoots into the first magnet,” he said steadily. “The magnet-windings shouldn’t stand the current we’ve got to put into them. They’ve got to.”
Smithers’ fingers were trembling and unsteady. Tommy helped him, not looking through the dimensoscope at all.