It was Rogers's anxious voice. George opened his eyes; everything seemed glowing, unreal and ghostlike. But he was uninjured, and his head had steadied. "I'm all right," he managed to say. The sickness passed quickly. George stood up, steadying himself. "Gosh, how light I feel! Queer in the head--don't you? I never imagined--" He stopped abruptly. Through a side window the fur-coated figure of the Banker was standing against the wall with the others around him. They were staring toward the plane with an expression that clearly indicated they could not see it. "We've started all right," George added. "Look at them! We're already in future time to them. They can't see us!" Suddenly the Banker came forward walking with extraordinary swiftness, and seemingly with little jerks, like a manikin. George held his breath, for the Banker popped forward, his head and shoulders piercing the glowing phosphorescent walls and floor of the cabin. He stood motionless a brief instant, his face close to George's knees. Then, even more rapidly than he had advanced, he threw a swift glance around and retreated. George recovered himself. "Boy," he said. "Wasn't that weird though? But we're all right. I feel fine now." The droning of the Frazia motors sounded very faintly above the humming. It was a relief, a help toward normality. The plane was slowly raising into the air. As it mounted, the roof of the Scientific Club dwindled away below. It was a dark night, with heavy clouds and a cold wind from the east. The city, with snow on its rooftops, was sliding eastward beneath them; vague black shadows, dark buildings dotted with lights, and seemingly empty streets. They were still mounting diagonally upward, and carried sidewise by the wind, when the Hudson River slid into view. "Rotten weather, Mr. Rogers," George suggested. "Yes," Rogers agreed, "but that will not bother us for very long. Are you warm enough?" "One heater is going," George responded. "I'll switch on another." He had familiarized himself thoroughly with the various mechanical appliances of the plane, and he turned a switch that threw current into another of the small electric radiators. "Anything else?" he demanded. "No, I think I shall try the higher intensities of the proton current. I want our time-progress accelerating as much as possible right from the beginning." George selected a seat hastily. It was not much of an ordeal. The humming seemed to move up a scale to a higher pitch as Rogers pulled the lever around. The reeling of the senses came again, but passed almost at once. "There," said Rogers. "I'm glad that's accomplished." "We're at the fifteenth intensity--the highest that Loto used." George was staring down through the floor window. "I can see lights down here. Are you sure it's the highest speed Loto used? He didn't describe it this way." "Our acceleration will pick up over several hours," Rogers replied. "Our time-progress is still comparatively slow."