CHAPTER VIIIGuided Missile
Horribly, the bottom dropped, with a jolt, out of all creation!
There was a terrific wrench that seemed to tear Owen free from his very eyeteeth, and clutching the clock in a grip of death he went spinning dizzily into unknowable dimensions. The anchor was being hoisted in nasty, jerking tugs while Owen at the very end of its chain swung like a pendulum through time.
Now the storm of last night thundered again. Temporally diffused lightning gave the library a dim gray radiance. Through the window Owen saw the cypress spring back triumphant from its watery grave and vigorously re-root itself. Again that yanking tug. He was ascending, in some direction he couldn’t understand, and the pendulum of time swung wider.
It swung tremendously, far behind the limits the
