"Obviously not. We're talking and moving, aren't we? But--we are on the fence. When I gave my impulsor the jolt of high power, it went wrong and I think something must have happened to me. At the same instant, you had shot yourself. "Perhaps, Dave, you are dying. The only way for us to find out is to try to get the machine working and topple ourselves one way or the other. If we fall back, we will all live. If we fall into the present--we may die." "Either way, it's better than this!" Miller said fervently. "I came to the library here, hoping to find out the things I must know. My own books are locked in my study. And these--they might be cemented in their places, for all their use to me. I suppose we might as well go back to the lab." Miller nodded, murmuring: "Maybe you'll get an idea when you look at the machine again." "Let's hope so," said Erickson grimly. "God knows I've failed so far!" CHAPTER III _Splendid Sacrifice_ It was a solid hour's walk out to West Wilshire, where the laboratory was. The immense bronze and glass doors of Wanamaker Institute were closed, and so barred to the two men. But Erickson led the way down the side. "We can get in a service door. Then we climb through transoms and ventilators until we get to my lab." Major frisked along beside them. He was enjoying the action and the companionship. It was less of an adventure to Miller, who knew death might be ahead for the three of them. Two workmen were moving a heavy cabinet in the side service door. To get in, they climbed up the back of the rear workman, walked across the cabinet, and scaled down the front of the leading man. They went up the stairs to the fifteenth floor. Here they crawled through a transom into the wing marked: "Experimental. Enter Only By Appointment." Major was helped through it, then they were crawling along the dark metal tunnel of an air-conditioning ventilator. It was small, and took some wriggling. In the next room, they were confronted by a stern receptionist on whose desk was a little brass sign, reading: "Have you an appointment?" Miller had had his share of experience with receptionists' ways, in his days as a pharmaceutical salesman. He took the greatest pleasure now in lighting his cigarette from a match struck on the girl's nose. Then he blew the smoke in her face and hastened to crawl through the final transom. John Erickson's laboratory was well lighted by a glass-brick wall and a huge skylight. The sun's rays glinted on the time impulsor.[1] The scientist explained the impulsor in concise terms. When he had finished, Dave Miller knew just as little as before, and the outfit still resembled three transformers in a line, of the type seen on power-poles, connected to a great bronze globe hanging from the ceiling. "There's the monster that put us in this plight," Erickson grunted. "Too strong to be legal, too weak to do the job right. Take a good look!" * * * * *