Turning to the wall behind him, he caught a small lever and turned it over as far as it would go. The castle vibrated slightly, communicating a perceptible swaying motion to the pendent chain.
"What's this?" cried Markham, jumping up.
"Do not be alarmed, my friends," cried Quinn, whirling around.
His face was pallid as death, and his beady eyes gleamed like coals. Then, wonder of wonders, the white cube settled to the floor.
"Ha!" shouted Popham. "Your anti-gravity compound is not very long lived, it seems to me."
"You will find differently, to your cost!" returned the professor through his teeth. "Augustus Popham, I, Kenward Quinn, arraign you, and Emmet Gilhooly, and J. Archibald Meigs, and Hannibal Markham as foes of the human race! You are leeches who would suck the life-blood from the veins of the poor——"
With steady forefinger, Quinn had transfixed each of the plutocrats as he called his name. Markham was already on his feet, and the other three were not slow in following him.
"What's this, what's this?" gasped Gilhooly.
"An insult!" muttered Popham.
"The old addle-pate is not accountable for what he says or does," remarked J. Archibald Meigs.