It was very still in the office. Except for the flickering outside
everything seemed very much as usual. The electric light burned
steadily, but Estelle was sobbing with fright and Arthur was trying
vainly to console her.
"Have I gone crazy?" she demanded between her sobs.
"Not unless I've gone mad, too," said Arthur soothingly. The
excitement had quite a soothing effect upon him. He had ceased to
feel afraid, but was simply waiting to see what had happened. "We're
way back before the founding of New York now, and still going
strong."
"Are you sure that's what has happened?"
"If you'll look outside," he suggested, "you'll see the seasons
following each other in reverse order. One moment the snow covers
all the ground, then you catch a glimpse of autumn foliage, then
summer follows, and next spring."
Estelle glanced out of the window and covered her eyes.
"Not a house," she said despairingly. "Not a building. Nothing,
nothing, nothing!"
Arthur slipped, his arm about her and patted hers comfortingly.
"It's all right," he reassured her. "We'll bring up presently,
and there we'll be. There's nothing to be afraid of."
She rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed hopelessly for
a little while longer, but presently quieted. Then, suddenly,
realizing that Arthur's arm was about her and that she was crying
on his shoulder, she sprang away, blushing crimson.
Arthur walked to the window.
"Look there!" he exclaimed, but it was too late. "I'll swear to
it I saw the Half Moon, Hudson's ship," he declared excitedly.
"We're way back now, and don't seem to be slacking up, either."
Estelle came to the window by his side. The rapidly changing scene
before her made her gasp. It was no longer possible to distinguish
night from day.
A wavering streak, moving first to the right and then to the left,
showed where the sun flashed across the sky.
"What makes the sun wabble so?" she asked.
"Moving north and south of the equator," Arthur explained
casually. "When it's farthest south--to the left--there's always
snow on the ground. When it's farthest right it's summer. See how
green it is?"
A few moments' observation corroborated his statement.
"I'd say," Arthur remarked reflectively, "that it takes about fifteen
seconds for the sun to make the round trip from farthest north to
farthest south." He felt his pulse. "Do you know the normal rate
of the heart-beat? We can judge time that way. A clock will go
all to pieces, of course."
"Why did your watch explode--and the clock?"
"Running forward in time unwinds a clock, doesn't it?" asked
Arthur. "It follows, of course, that when you move it backward in
time it winds up. When you move it too far back, you wind it so
tightly that the spring just breaks to pieces."
He paused a moment, his fingers on his pulse.
"Yes, it takes about fifteen seconds for all the four seasons to
pass. That means we're going backward in time about four years a
minute. If we go on at this rate another hour we'll be back in the
time of the Northmen, and will be able to tell if they did discover
America, after all."
"Funny we don't hear any noises," Estelle observed. She had caught
some of Arthur's calmness.
"It passes so quickly that though our ears hear it, we don't separate
the sounds. If you'll notice, you do hear a sort of humming.
It's very high-pitched, though."
Estelle listened, but could hear nothing.
"No matter," said Arthur. "It's probably a little higher than your
ears will catch. Lots of people can't hear a bat squeak."
"I never could," said Estelle. "Out in the country, where I come
from, other people could hear them, but I couldn't."
They stood a while in silence, watching.
"When are we going to stop?" asked Estelle uneasily. "It seems as
if we're going to keep on indefinitely."
"I guess we'll stop all right," Arthur reassured her. "It's obvious
that whatever it was, only affected our own building, or we'd see
some other one with us. It looks like a fault or a flaw in the rock
the building rests on. And that can only give so far."
Estelle was silent for a moment.
"Oh, I can't be sane!" she burst out semihysterically. "This can't
be happening!"
"You aren't crazy," said Arthur sharply. "You're sane as I am. Just
something queer is happening. Buck up. Say your multiplication
tables. Say anything you know. Say something sensible and you'll
know you're all right. But don't get frightened now. There'll be
plenty to get frightened about later."
The grimness in his tone alarmed Estelle.
"What are you afraid of?" she asked quickly.
"Time enough to worry when it happens," Arthur retorted briefly.
"You--you aren't afraid we'll go back before the beginning of the
world, are you?" asked Estelle in sudden access of fright.
Arthur shook his head.
"Tell me," said Estelle more quietly, getting a grip on herself. "I
won't mind. But please tell me."
Arthur glanced at her. Her face was pale, but there was more
resolution in it than he had expected to find.
"I'll tell you, then," he said reluctantly. "We're going back a
little faster than we were, and the flaw seems to be a deeper one
than I thought. At the roughest kind of an estimate, we're all of
a thousand years before the discovery of America now, and I think
nearer three or four. And we're gaining speed all the time. So,
though I am as sure as I can be sure of anything that we'll stop
this cave-in eventually, I don't know where. It's like a crevasse
in the earth opened by an earthquake which may be only a few feet
deep, or it may be hundreds of yards, or even a mile or two. We
started off smoothly. We're going at a terrific rate. _What will
happen when we stop?_"
Estelle caught her breath.
"What?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know," said Arthur in an irritated tone, to cover his
apprehension. "How could I know?"
Estelle turned from him to the window again.
"Look!" she said, pointing.
The flickering had begun again. While they stared, hope springing
up once more in their hearts, it became more pronounced. Soon they
could distinctly see the difference between day and night.
They were slowing up! The white snow on the ground remained there
for an appreciable time, autumn lasted quite a while. They could
catch the flashes of the sun as it made its revolutions now,
instead of its seeming like a ribbon of fire. At last day lasted
all of fifteen or twenty minutes.
It grew longer and longer. Then half an hour, then an hour. The
sun wavered in midheaven and was still.
Far below them, the watchers in the tower of the skyscraper saw trees
swaying and bending in the wind. Though there was not a house or a
habitation to be seen and a dense forest covered all of Manhattan
Island, such of the world as they could see looked normal. Wherever
or rather in whatever epoch of time they were, they had arrived.