Clark South

“ All but one wing of the ancient edifice to which the peasant took them was in ruins, gutted by fire. It stood high on a hill like a blackened skeleton.
"Once those who lived here were as cruel and proud as Baron Morriere," commented their guide. "Fire made them our equals."
And the part of Mark that was Jacques Rombeau answered:
"Fire will make many equals in the years to come, old man. And swords will help, for a poor man's arm can strike as lusty a blow as any lord's."
They laid Elaine on a bed of straw high in the unburned wing. ”

“ Mark's eyes went wide with horror. He started forward. Found himself halted by Professor Duchard's hand.
"You asked a question, Mark!" the white-haired scientist rapped. "The doctor merely is giving you his answer. Look at her!"
Elaine had not stirred! If anything, she lay even more still than before, not a muscle so much as quivering. Her eyes were closed, her face calm, her golden hair halo-like about her head. ”

“ But the words of Adrian Vance leaped into his brain like red-hot branding irons:
Elaine Duchard was tortured and murdered by Baron Morriere's retainers!
Were these men the ones history had marked to do the awful deed?
The thunder of hooves was almost upon them now. The coach rocked from side to side. Bounced wildly from one rut to another.
A hoarse bellow from Baroc:
"They're coming, Jacques!"
Then out of the night like the wind itself the riders came. Big men, with fierce eyes and savage, brutal faces. Men cut from the same pattern as their master, Baron Morriere. ”

“ Onward Mark and Elaine drifted. The girl's eyes still were closed. Her body slack.
All his life those endless hours were a nightmare to the man. He remembered, vaguely, that they lay hidden under the roots of a willow while guardsmen on the bank above them cursed the luck that had let the pair escape. Mark's teeth were chattering and his muscles weak. Elaine's face, beside him, was growing blue with cold. Yet still she did not recover consciousness.
Then, at last, the baron's men were clumping off, and Mark was dragging his sweetheart out onto the bank. ”

“ They surged forward as one man.
"Jacques! Look out!"
Elaine's scream lent strength to her lover's arms. He slammed the door in the face of the oncoming fighters. Half a dozen swords stabbed deep into its wood, so closely were they upon him. He hurled himself at the portal. Forced it shut by sheer desperation. Slammed home its triple bolts.
He turned, then, his breath coming in great, sobbing gasps.
Baron Morriere had lurched to his feet. His right hand gripped a sword, his left a dagger.
"You'll die yet, you dog!" he snarled. "I'll spit you on my sword like a pig above a bed of coals!" ”

“ Discoveries that would lead him to an explanation of the strange coma that held Elaine in its grim sway.
His brown eyes fastened on the mirror. The next instant they went wide with astonishment.
The glass screen behind which he and the professor were standing was clearly reflected.
But it was merely an opaque surface! Neither he nor the scientist could be seen behind it!
As if reading his mind, Professor Duchard gave vent to a little laugh.
"'One-way' glass," he explained. "It permits vision in only one direction." Then the humor went out of his voice. ”

“ For there, gazing back at him out of the mirror, was a new Elaine. An Elaine who stood beside a great black coach, the like of which had never rolled American highways.
There in the mirror was an image that was NOT a reflection!
This woman's face was Elaine's. Yet there the resemblance ended. The filmy negligee of his own fiancee was replaced by the rich warmth of a scarlet satin gown and endless yards of white lace ruffles. The creamy skin of his own Elaine's bare arms came back as covered with long white gloves to above the elbows. ”

“ The professor stared into Mark's eyes.
"How much do you know about time?" he demanded.
"Time?"
"Yes. And time travel."
The younger man shrugged.
"Practically nothing," he admitted. "Oh, I've read a few stories, of course. But that's all. I don't know what the theory of it all is, if that's what you mean."
"I thought so." Professor Duchard sighed. "That being the case, there is little use in my wasting energy trying to give you any real understanding of it.
"However, I can tell you this: time is not the immutable thing most people presume it to be. Actually, it is only another dimension. ”

“ Mark started forward. But the professor caught his arm.
"It is useless," the savant said. "To follow him would bring death and would avail nothing, my boy. He has won."
Like men in a daze, then, they stared into each other's eyes. They saw only dull hopelessness. The last spark was gone out.
Slowly, Mark walked over to the corner where stood the shattered mirror. Looked blankly down at its fragments. Bending, he picked up a splinter. Inspected it idly.
The next instant he whirled about.
"Professor Duchard!" he rapped. "How did this devil's looking-glass work?" ”

“ The laboratory was suddenly permeated with ozone's peculiar odor.
"Look out!" cried Mark again.
But already Professor Duchard had jerked his foot free of the crucible line. He shrank back under the long bench, away from the writhing cable.
An instant later the current went dead. The crackling ball of purple fire evaporated into thin air.
Mark sprang across the room to where the scientist lay. He pulled him to his feet.
"Are you all right, professor? Are you hurt?"
"Yes, yes, my boy. It was a narrow escape, but your warning saved me. I am all right." ”

“ Something of the man's intensity, his enthusiasm, communicated itself to the professor. His blue eyes came alight.
"It is conceivable!" he declared. "Not likely. But conceivable." He gripped the fragment of glass which Mark held. "Yes! We shall try it! If it works, we can—"
He stopped short. His face fell.
"We can what?" he finished. "Another time mirror will not help us bring Elaine back—"
His companion interrupted fiercely:
"How do we know? There's always a chance we'll think of something, isn't there? And it's a cinch we won't accomplish anything just sitting here." ”

“ Of course it's true." Mark was a little bewildered. "Why shouldn't it be? Isn't every looking-glass supposed to throw back a reasonably exact image?"
"Of course, of course!" The scientist was impatient. "But can you not see the difference?"
"The difference? What difference?"
"Mark: this is not an ordinary mirror. That is what I mean! It denies every law of optics! Glass as full of waves and ripples as this apparently is should return hideously distorted reflections. Yet it does not do so!"
"But what—"
"We shall see. Come on! Bring the mirror to my laboratory." ”

“ Again Mark nodded, this time more slowly.
"You mean that the wave of energy really must be like a sword, stabbing one small hole through the barrier?"
"Exactly." A pause. "The time mirror represented just such a hole through the barrier. What appeared to us to be waves in the glass actually were frozen ripples in the space-time continuum—just as if you had dropped a stone in water, and the hole and ripples had frozen." ”

“ Again he kissed the soft hollow of that first Elaine Duchard's throat, trying the while to fight off the awful sense of futility that swept over him as he remembered history's verdict as to her fate.
Then, suddenly, the coach was halting.
"Whoa, there!" came the voice of the burly man on the box. And then: "Well, Jacques, what now? We're away from the castle, but where do we go?"
Mark swung to the ground. Glanced back to where the Chateau Morriere still loomed black and menacing on a distant ridge.
"Every road and bridge is blocked," the other went on. ”

“ The figure of the woman in the mirror!
"That's her!" he cried excitedly. "That's the woman we saw reflected instead of Elaine!"
Professor Duchard snapped off the machine beside him. He turned on the lights. Swung around to face his daughter's fiance. His face was grey. Grim lines of worry etched deep into the flesh.
"So that is it!" he said. "That is what he has done to her!"
There was fear in his voice ... living, breathing fear. That and despair. The despair of utter hopelessness. His shoulders sagged with it. The sparkle had gone out of his eyes.
Mark gripped the old man's arm. ”

“ His voice a dull monotone, he again recounted his story.
"This woman," probed Professor Duchard, his bright blue eyes stabbing into the other's brown orbs. "Tell me about her. What did she look like?"
Mark shrugged.
"She was only a reflection in a mirror, professor. It was Elaine. Probably the lighting gave me the illusion of someone else."
"Cease thinking of her as a reflection!" the savant retorted, his voice suddenly sharp. "You are a newspaperman by trade. You have been trained to observe closely. I want you to use those powers now. Think of this woman as a person. ”

“ There must be a way—"
"—if it can be found!" interrupted Professor Duchard. He again gripped the younger man's arm. "Do not let yourself go to pieces, my boy. That will not help.
"Because you, yourself, are a man of action, you want our friend, here, to prescribe for Elaine with the same speed and certainty that you would go after a hot news story. Only that is not the way of science, Mark. We must be patient and hope for the best, content in the knowledge that everything possible is being done for Elaine." ”

“ It's impossible to call a person back. In the first place, a time mirror would be needed—and the only one in existence, the one I bought from a French sorcerer who once studied under Eliphas Levi, now stands on that easel in the corner."
Sobs racked the other's frail form. He still leaned against the bench, his face buried in his hands.
But on the floor, Mark Carter's jaw grew hard. He readied himself for a savage leap.
"Furthermore," their captor went on, "your precious Elaine remembers nothing of her life in this century. For all practical purposes she has become the first Elaine Duchard. ”

“ Unmindful of gashed fingers, Mark fitted the slivers of mirror together, while Professor Duchard tested and analyzed and figured at his side.
And then—
"I have it!" shouted the savant triumphantly. "I have the formula!"
"Then we can construct another mirror?"
Some of the old man's elation dropped away. He shook his head.
"Not yet. We know only the effect we want. But how to achieve it—" He shrugged.
Experiments. More experiments. Hours of experiments, with Mark and the professor hovering over an electric crucible bubbling with molten glass. ”

“ Describe her to to me as if she were one—"
"She looked like Elaine," said Mark, racking his brain for details. "She looked just like her. Only different, the way two identical twins are different. You know what I mean, professor? The way a person's individual personality sticks out of him in spite of his appearance—"
"Yes. I quite understand."
"Well, that was the way it was with this woman. She was Elaine, but she wasn't. There was something about her that didn't belong to Elaine." ”

“ They cannot bridge the gap. They must remain in the period in which they are born—"
"But Elaine—"
Never had Mark seen the white-haired savant so solemn. His aged face was drawn with worry. Yet there was terrifying self-confidence in his words.
"Elaine," he said quietly, "at this moment is trapped in time!"
There was a moment of stunned silence, then. Mark's brain was spinning. He stared at Professor Duchard through narrowed eyes, half-convinced that the man was mad. And yet—
"I am not insane," the scientist declared, as if answering an unspoken question. "Believe me, my boy, I am not." ”

“ As a research physicist, I have for many years been convinced of this."
"You mean that time travel really is possible? That men can be transported into the future or the past—"
The other held up a restraining hand.
"Yes. Time travel is possible, if men could break through into that other dimension." A pause. "Yet up until tonight, I never believed that man had found a way to pass that barrier."
"But professor! Think what you're saying! You're telling me that I could go back and murder my own grandfather. ”

“ He laughed harshly. "Oh, yes. Vance may win. We may not be able to save Elaine. But"—and his face was terrible to see—"Vance certainly won't live long enough to gloat much!"
A spark of hope sprang into Professor Duchard's blue eyes.
"I wish I could believe you—"
"Forget it. We've got more important things to do than wishing. Look out that window!"
The white-haired scientist turned to the casement toward which the other pointed. Saw dawn reddening the eastern sky.
"It's morning already," Mark went on determinedly. "In a few hours more, we can start things rolling by having you call up Vance." ”

“ Mark grated tensely. "If she dies—"
The thought brought him up short. History said Elaine Duchard could not die! No! She must be tormented and murdered! And already the time was short, for Professor Duchard had asserted that she was killed two days after her first escape. Twelve hours had passed since he and the girl had clambered into the coach. That left thirty-six—
The old peasant was shaking his head.
"There is no doctor here who can be trusted," he declared. "One and all, they would run to Baron Morriere. ”

“ Not by the slightest vocal tremor or change of expression did the old man hint of his secret—that if necessary Adrian Vance would never leave this place alive!
"It is kind of you to come," he told the antiquarian as he led the way toward the back of the dwelling. "I never knew that a wedding could cause so much turmoil." He chuckled softly. "Of course, I have had little experience in such matters, my wife being dead and Elaine an only child. ”

“ The professor's face was suddenly pale.
"That picture called 'Elaine Duchard's Escape'? The Jerbette? Is that the one you mean?"
"That's it. That's the one. Where is it?"
"It is gone," the savant answered grimly. "A genuine painting by Gustav Jerbette is worth a great deal of money. And I am not a wealthy man. When Adrian Vance offered to buy it—"
"Adrian Vance! That snake! He's the one who gave Elaine the mirror—"
The white-haired scientist was on his feet, his eyes suddenly very bright and cold. The veins stood out at his temples. ”