And even faster moved his sinuous body. He snaked free of Mark's restraining grasp. Sprang back like a wounded tiger. His right hand darted under his coat to his left armpit like a Gila monster streaking for cover. Mark Carter's lips twisted in a snarl of rage. He lunged after the antiquarian, big fists balled and deadly. "Look out!" It was Professor Duchard, his voice a shrill warning blast. Mark's eyes shifted. He caught the sudden spearing movement of Vance's right hand. Lashed out in savage fury to meet the new threat. The antiquarian shrank back. The other's fist drove by him. Missed him by a hair. And then his right hand was back in view. Back, and gripping the butt of a long-barreled Smith & Wesson Magnum. His teeth were bared, in a grimace of hideous triumph. Like a rattlesnake striking, he slashed out with the heavy gun. Brought it down at his adversary's head in a vicious blow. Mark still reeled, off balance, from his own missed blow. But he saw the gun descending. Threw up his arm to ward it off. The barrel caught him at the juncture of shoulder and collar bones. Sent screaming pain stabbing to the farthest reaches of his brain. Paralyzed his whole side. He staggered drunkenly. Again that triumphant leer contorted Vance's hatchet face. Once more he whipped the pistol barrel down. And this time his aim was true. This time the heavy gun slammed home square at the base of the other's brain. The universe was exploding inside Mark's skull. A crimson universe, with planets that burst into bloody flame. His control centers went numb. The life vanished from his muscles. He felt himself falling ... falling ... falling.... * * * * * As if in some macabre nightmare, he heard Adrian Vance laugh. Saw the antiquarian step back and bring the gun in his hand to bear on Professor Duchard. "So you're going to force me to bring Elaine back to the twentieth century!" the rejected suitor mocked. "So you think you still have a chance to save her from death at the hands of Baron Morriere's retainers!" The old man's eyes were like blue steel as he met the antiquarian's gaze. "You devil!" he said. "You admit it! You have killed her!" Vance nodded, his narrow face sinister. "Of course I admit it. Why shouldn't I? What is there you can do about it? Or do you think the police are going to hold me on a charge of subjecting your daughter to involuntary time travel by sending her a mirror?" He laughed harshly, smoothed his sleek black hair. Then continued: "Yes, professor. Go to the police. Tell them all about my hideous crimes." Again he laughed. "See how long it takes them to put you under psychiatric observation." The aged scientist's lips quivered with passion and despair. "Why do you stay?" he cried. "You have won. Why do you mock us? Go away! Let us alone!"