Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 78: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

than you really can; I couldn't quite stretch that far. So I gave it six short tugs. Very quietly I tumbled out here. I haven't seen Sheila.” The professor was calm. His face was set hard. “Either you're telling the truth or you're insane as a loon,” he said, and his voice was puzzled and sincere, “Perhaps I'm crazy, too. I'm broad-minded enough to admit that is possible. 've got you charged with murder. But Tl give you a chance, What are you going to do about Sheila?” Heagey’s eyes blazed, “You can go to hell with your chance,” he roared. “I want Sheila back worse than you do. If anyone can get her back, it is myself. If you interfere, you simply guarantee that she’s lost, that’s all. If you want to see her again, kecp your hands off! See!” The professor was a better man than his blustering actions might lead one to think, “Well, 'm worried,” he said shortly. “Can 1 help you any?” re never changed expression. “Perhaps you can. I may need more movey than I’ve got. Just now you can help me most by getting out of here and taking everybody with you and letting me think. I've got an idea. Vl phone you when I want something.” “Well, remember you're charged with murder, and there will be a police guard around this place.” How great and yet how small men will be nnder trying conditions! Ileagey, left alone, sat and thought. He jumped up and ran his hands through his hair. “Godl Think of it!” he gasped. “Sheila out there alone! In that mad place! Not even a rope!” He paced rapidly around the room. Then he seized paper and pencil and began to draw. He drew circles and ellipsoids of different sizes and Jaid the drawings in a row. The professor came in an hour later and found him at it. “How do you ever expect to find her that way?” he growled peevishly. “Shut up!” Heagey snapped, his nerves tautened into disrespect. He swept up the papers with his hand and crumpled them into the waste-basket. “No use. Can't study four-dimensional stuff on a two- dimensional plane. Say!” he shouted roughly at the professor; “get me a header! pounds of modeling clay up here. Quick as you can!” The professor trotted out after it without a word, much less with any understanding of what it was about. ‘Do you think you'll do it?” was his eager attitude one moment, and, “If you don't, you go on trial for murder,” he raved a moment later. Far into the night Heagey worked with modeling clay, moulding the forms that had appeared in the laboratory and some of those he 76 comichbooks.com