The destruction seemed to spread inward. One tier brought down another. A widening jagged wound was here in the metallic city. It extended a hundred or two hundred feet down from the roof level. But our range from this altitude could go no deeper. Was the aero down there in some fortified room underneath this tangled wreckage? Nanette, down there perhaps, still alive-- "Move us along, Pierson. Tremont, spread the beam! We'll go down to five hundred feet." The roof broke in larger fragments as the light widened and intensified with our descent. This whole section of the city must have been quivering now; we could hear its ragged pulse, mingled with the rending of metal, the crash and crack of trembling, collapsing interior walls. With the first breaking of the roof insulation-barrage, our mirrors began picking up interior images. I did not see them--I sat at the projector with Alan, watching the widening break in the roof as our beam bore down from this lower altitude. But I heard the comments of the men behind me in the cabin. The panic of defeat was spreading throughout the Turber-owned city. Mobs of Turberites, soon in a wild rush to come this way; against all reason, rushing in a panic of terror toward this quaking, falling area! Because the Time-aero was near here! * * * * * We realized it. But no Turber mob ever reached the vehicle. We found later that it was fortified with metallic barriers. They shut off the mob which tried for safety--barred those few who got past or around the falling area. The panic spread up north to the battle lines. The tide of the fighting abruptly turned. The Turberite wolves, suddenly stricken with rumors of defeat, began trying to withdraw. Our troops pursued them. Soon it was a rout. I heard no orders--no talk of the taking of prisoners. Like wolves trying to run, the Turberites were hunted down. Lea plucked at me. I turned again to look back toward Manhattan. There were torches everywhere on the roof to the north--our police troops, suddenly heartened, were surging up triumphant and sweeping the enemy back. In the glare of the lights the black Turber ship up there showed as it winged away. Escaping--and in a moment one of our ships rose up and took after it. Some one said: "Look! The Turber Jersey landing-stage!" Far ahead, where the city ended beyond the Staten Island section, a group of Turber ships came up. Coming to attack us! The thought flashed to me. But it was not so. Turber ships--escaping. They sped off to the south, over the Turberite rural district. I prayed that one of them might be carrying Nanette. * * * * * Someone said: "Forty minutes; twenty left!" Had this all been only forty minutes? "Pierson! Lower! There it is!"