As he sagged, I grabbed him and shoved him into the transmitter. "Look
out," cried Mary. "He's getting up."
"No," he said in a strangled voice as he struggled to his knees. "No.
I'll ... _I'll fix you_...."
I turned the dials full power, hit the directional switch with my open
palm and closed my eyes.
Mr. Eammer's voice cut off abruptly. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.
"Thank heaven," gasped Mary in relief.
* * * * *
I immediately made computations and my figures showed that Mr. Eammer
must have been transported to the Himalayas.
That's the area where the Abominable Snowman had been sighted. That is
why I must speak now, regardless of any opinions about the state of
my sanity. I would not want Mr. Eammer shot by mistake, as he comes
rushing toward a party of explorers.
It's all right to bring him back now. I've smashed the machine beyond
repair and, since Mary was Mr. Eammer's private secretary, she knew
where to get the combination of his safe, so we were able to destroy my
blueprints and technical notebooks.
I've turned the million dollars over to Mr. Eammer's lawyers and
they are now fighting off the creditors, who all think Mr. Eammer is
deliberately hiding from them.
Whatever you do, please don't take a shot at the Abominable Snowman.
It is Mr. Eammer.