d in reply and, sheathing his sword, stepped boldly forward into
the interior of the Panchronicon. Phoebe knew the power of
superstition in that age, and she glowed with pride and tenderness,
conscious that in this act of faith in her the knight evinced more
courage than ever he might need to bear him well in battle.

When the electric lights shed a sudden bright glare down the spiral
staircase, Sir Guy cowered and stopped short again, turning pale with a
fear irrepressible. But Phoebe put one arm about his neck and drew his
head down to hers, whispering in his ear. What she said none heard save
him, but the spell of her words was potent, for the young knight stood
erect once more and firmly ascended to the room above.

Droop stood nervously waiting at the engine-room door.

"Are ye all in?" he said, sharply. "Where's Cousin Rebecca?"

"Here I be!" came a voice from below. "I'm jest lockin' the door tight."

"Well, hurry up--hurry! Come up here an' lay down. I'm goin' to start."

In a few moments all was in readiness. Droop pulled the lever, and with
a roar and a mighty bound the Panchronicon, revived by its long period
of waiting, sped upward into the night.

As the four fugitives sat upright again, and Droop, rubbing his hands
with satisfaction, was about to speak, the door of one of the
bedchambers was opened, and a stranger dressed in nineteenth-century
attire stepped forward, shading his blinking eyes with his hand.

The two women screamed, but Droop only dropped amazed into a chair.

"Francis Bacon!" he exclaimed.

Then, leaping forward eagerly, he cried aloud:

"Gimme them clothes!"

* * * * *

Of the return trip of the five, little need be said save to record one
untoward incident which has been the occasion of a most unfortunate
historic controversy.

The date-recording instrument must have been deranged in some way, for
when, after a great number of eastward turns around the pole, it marked
the year 1898, they had really only reached 1857. Supposing themselves
to have actually reached the year erroneously indicated by the recorder,
they set off southward and made a first landing in Hartford,
Connecticut.

Here they discovered their mistake, and returned to the pole to complete
their journey in time. All but Francis Bacon. He declared that so much
whirling made him giddy, and remained in Connecticut. Alas! Had Phoebe
known the result of this desertion,