Dane reached the shaft of the riser--to find the platform gone. Would
either Rip or Ali have presence of mind enough to send it down to him on
automatic?
"Rip--return the riser," he spoke urgently into the throat mike of his
helmet com.
"Keep your rockets straight," Ali's cool voice was in his earphones,
"It's on its way down. Did _you_ remember to bring Exhibit A?"
Dane did not answer. For he was very much occupied with another problem.
On the bronze doors he had been at such pains to seal shut there had come
into being a round circle of dull red which was speedily changing into a
coruscating incandescence. They _had_ brought a flamer to bear! It would
be a very short time now before the Police could come through. That
riser--
Afraid of overbalancing in the bulky suit Dane did not lean forward to
stare up into the shaft. But, as his uncertainty reached a fever pitch,
the platform descended and he took two steps forward into temporary
safety, still clutching the cage. At the first try the thick fingers of
his gloved hand slipped from the lever and he hit it again, harder than
he intended, so that he found himself being wafted upward with a speed
which did not agree with a stomach, even one long accustomed to space
flight.
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