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'Bombs awry'

'Smith, George O. (George Oliver)'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Bombs awry\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Bombs awry\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: George O. Smith\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Alex Schomburg\r\n\r\nRelease date: February 27, 2023 [eBook #70160]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nOriginal publication: United States: Standard Magazines, Inc, 1952\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOMBS AWRY ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n BOMBS AWRY\r\n\r\n A Novelet by\r\n GEORGE O. SMITH\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Thrilling Wonder Stories June 1952.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n I\r\n\r\n\r\nThere were some new faces among the crew that crowded around him as\r\nhe came up the runway into the air-lock, and the _Vanguard_\r\nrang with greeting: "Hi, Pete," or "Glad to see you again, Commander\r\nEllsworth," depending upon how well they knew him. Peter felt a bit\r\nof nostalgia--but only briefly. The _Vanguard_ had been both a\r\ncomfortable and interesting berth; but in every man\'s life there were\r\ncrossroads, and some of them demanded that he give up one course,\r\nhowever pleasant, in favor of something more promising.\r\n\r\nAnd some of them, like this one, took a man just across a tall fence,\r\nand let him brush occasionally against his former existence.\r\n\r\n"How\'re things going?" he asked.\r\n\r\nToby Reed grinned. "Fine. We\'ve still got a fine gang, Peter. We\'re\r\nstopping \'em all cold. We\'ll stop yours cold, too."\r\n\r\nPeter felt a mild flash of professional hostility. He was no longer\r\none of them. He had no right to the "Commander" title any more. He\r\nwas "Ex-Commander" by proper title, if he owned any title at all. He\r\nwas on the Other Side. And the gang that once would have turned the\r\n_Vanguard_ inside out for Peter Ellsworth were now going to turn\r\nit inside out to prove that they were smarter than Peter Ellsworth.\r\n\r\n"Think you have anything?" asked Harry Lockwood.\r\n\r\nPeter nodded. "Think I\'d be handing it over to this gang of thieves if\r\nI didn\'t?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe felt that this was the course to take. He must be as confident as\r\nthey were. They were a smart outfit, and Peter was only one man;\r\nyet Peter knew all the tricks himself, and he doubted that they had\r\ninvented many new ones. So unless someone had come up with about as\r\nnew a technique as could be, Peter would win. He had all the old bets\r\ncovered.\r\n\r\nActually, Peter had been covering them for years. There\'s a lot of free\r\ntime in a job like Peter\'s former command--time to watch and think\r\nand plan and set down ideas. For seven years Peter Ellsworth had been\r\nin command of the _Vanguard_, and in that time he had seen a\r\ngood many self-guided missiles launched in the ultimate test against\r\nthe _Vanguard\'s_ highly-specialized countermeasures crew. He had\r\nwatched them all fail. He had taken careful note of the reasons. He had\r\nworked with the crew against them--\r\n\r\nWhat better training than this for a man who wanted to build one?\r\n\r\nDown in the torpedo-hold were three shining metal cigars. Peter\r\nEllsworth\'s pets. His babies. Sunk into them were all of his hopes, all\r\nhis meager finances, and all the money that everybody who was Peter\'s\r\nfriend had been able to scrape up. He could not fail.\r\n\r\nHe waved to his former crew and went aloft to the pilot\'s bridge to see\r\nthe present commander.\r\n\r\n"I\'m Peter Ellsworth."\r\n\r\nCommander Hogarth eyed him with interest. "You trained me a fine gang,"\r\nhe said warmly.\r\n\r\n"They were a willing bunch."\r\n\r\nHogarth smiled. "You\'re hoping, but it\'s no go," he said cryptically.\r\n\r\n"H\'m?"\r\n\r\n"Ellsworth, no matter how neutral a man is he can\'t help being human\r\nfirst. In some situations like this a man could count upon human nature\r\nto help him out. Not this time, Peter. Not this time. That gang below\r\nwould like to have you back. The only way to get you back is to ruin\r\nyour chances. They\'ll work hard at it. As for me, I could use an Exec.\r\nForester wants to transfer back to the heavies."\r\n\r\nPeter shook his head. "I\'m hocked up to the eyebrows," he said. "If I\r\nfail this test, I\'ll be ruined. At an Executive Officer\'s pay it would\r\ntake me about two hundred and eighteen years of service to pay it back.\r\nThat\'s without eating."\r\n\r\n"But you ought to know you can\'t win."\r\n\r\nPeter shook his head again. "This time the _Vanguard_ loses and I\r\nwin a nice fat contract. I know what a self-guided missile has to do."\r\n\r\nCommander Hogarth chuckled. "And we\'ll find out how to wreck both your\r\nhopes and your missile, Peter. Then you\'ll be back busting others\r\ninstead of building \'em. Why, even Ordnance hasn\'t come up with a good\r\none."\r\n\r\nPeter nodded. "I know. But there\'s faulty reasoning in the theory that\r\nOrdnance is the only outfit that knows anything about ordnance. That\'s\r\nwhy I went into private venture. More real freedom of thought. I\'ve had\r\nit and I\'ve used it, and now I\'m here on the other side of the game to\r\nprove it."\r\n\r\nHogarth started to reply, but Pilot Henderson snapped the squawk-box\r\nkey and announced: "Batten down! Takeoff in five minutes!"\r\n\r\nWay down below in the bowels of the _Vanguard_ the\r\nfield-generators began to build up. There was no more time for gab.\r\nEverybody buttoned down for takeoff, and the _Vanguard_ speared\r\nthe clouds on its needle-nose and went up and up into the black space\r\nbetween the planets.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOut in the vast empty lot of the Solar System that laid beyond the\r\norbit of Saturn the _Vanguard_ lay in wait for its war-game enemy.\r\nIn one sense it was like a game of solitaire. There were actually\r\ntwo crews aboard the _Vanguard_, kept separate from one another\r\nduring the trials. The first was a skeleton crew trained to handle\r\nthe missiles, to check them out, finally to launch them against the\r\n\'enemy\'. The second crew was the countermeasures crew who would take\r\nover the operation of the _Vanguard_ against the attack.\r\n\r\nEvery possible weapon would be used against the missile, every gadget,\r\nevery device, every brain.\r\n\r\nIf the _Vanguard\'s_ crew succeeded there would be a space-borne\r\nskyburst of flame that expended itself harmlessly. If the crew\r\nfailed--and they had never been known to fail--then the Countermeasures\r\nDepartment lost three million dollars worth of guided drone. Not the\r\ncrews. They were safe in the _Vanguard_. Just the drone. The\r\nguided spacecraft, the "enemy" spacecraft, which would be coupled\r\nto every single motion that the _Vanguard_ went through from\r\nhatch-openings to main-battery fire to space maneuverings. From the\r\ndrone would come back the sighting-plate information for presentation\r\non the crew\'s plates, so that visible and audible information created\r\nthe illusion that they, themselves, were fending off a self-guided\r\nmissile loaded with a fission-flash warhead.\r\n\r\nSo perfect was the illusion that, in every such test, the crew swore\r\nand sweated it out. It was the best operation that could be devised;\r\neven better than using a live crew directly against the deadly things,\r\nfor someday the crew might fail.\r\n\r\nToday, Peter hoped.\r\n\r\nThe squawk-box honked tinnily and Henderson said: "Drone at fifteen\r\nkilos."\r\n\r\nCommander Hogarth said: "Torpedo crew make ready and fire!"\r\n\r\nThere was a slight lurch as Peter Ellsworth\'s first pet whooshed out of\r\nthe torpedo tube. He saw it streak away to be gone almost instantly.\r\nIt was a tiny spot on the radar, curving outward in a veritable crawl\r\ntowards the spot fifteen thousand miles across space.\r\n\r\n"Henderson, take over!" ordered Hogarth.\r\n\r\nThere was a lurch as Henderson thrust home a master toggle--the lurch\r\nof Drone and Mother aligning together. From this moment on, the two\r\nwere near-identical. Turn for turn, trick for trick, weapon for weapon.\r\nAcceleration for acceleration and direction for direction they were\r\none ship. Only in the matter of distance: fifteen thousand miles but\r\nclosing rapidly, and in the matter of velocity: the _Vanguard_ was\r\nloafing along while the Drone came up out of Sol\'s inner system at a\r\nterrific velocity, were the two ships un-like.\r\n\r\nThey were chained together with a single, non-radiating communication\r\nband of the Z-wave, multi-modulated in both directions so that attack\r\nupon the Drone seemed to be attack against the Mother, and riposte by\r\nthe Mother turned out to be riposte against the missile from the Drone.\r\n\r\nThere was an electric-sounding sizzle from below; far across space\r\nwhere the invisible Drone must be, there was a faint flowering of\r\nviolet as the primary beams lashed out. Someone below was testing the\r\nmain-battery.\r\n\r\nAboard the _Vanguard_ were two factions. One of them (The Crew)\r\nhoped to see the missile blossom in the emptiness like a futile flower.\r\nThe other (Peter Ellsworth) hoped that the crew would see their\r\nsighting-plates flare before their eyes in the searing blast that\r\nmeant their destruction-in-simulation, and their defeat in reality.\r\n\r\nIt was a perfect set-up. The missile was as good as the best brains\r\ncould make it. The defense was as fine as could be collected together\r\nfrom the men in the Space forces. Nothing could go wrong.\r\n\r\nBut it did.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n II\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was no failure of man or machine. It was a coincidence so impossibly\r\nimprobable that only the Divine Intervention of a Deity who was tired\r\nof His paper-work could be used as an explanation.\r\n\r\nChuckling in some mysterious Godlike humor, He picked up a meteorite\r\nthat had been serving as a paperweight on His desk to hold down a sheaf\r\nof supplications and prayers. He wound up magnificently, having watched\r\nsome of His minions playing in the Heavenly Series.\r\n\r\nHe pitched a clean strike.\r\n\r\nThe meteorite drilled the Drone right through the middle of\r\nCapricorn. The Drone exploded in a puff of flame that flashed in the\r\nsighting-plates in the _Vanguard_ only briefly before they blacked\r\nout.\r\n\r\nCommander Hogarth employed a series of robust verbs and adverbs and\r\nnouns in a long sentence that ended with its subject: "--ing meteorite!"\r\n\r\nThen he asked Henderson: "How long before we can get another Drone out\r\nhere?"\r\n\r\n"About two hours. I\'ll have to compute. But--"\r\n\r\n"Okay. Tell the crew to take a break. Get the galley to run up some\r\ncoffee-and. Give the whole outfit a Green Alert. We\'ll pick it up\r\nlater. Ellsworth, how\'s about some grub?"\r\n\r\n"Okay by me."\r\n\r\n"Can you get control of that gizmo of yours and hold it until the next\r\nDrone comes up?"\r\n\r\nPeter Ellsworth followed Commander Hogarth towards the ladder, saying\r\nwith a sly grin: "Nope. If I could control it, your countermeasures\r\ngang could louse it, remember?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s true. Well--" Hogarth stopped short, staring at Peter\'s face,\r\nwhich had suddenly fallen into an expression of almost ludicrous dismay.\r\n\r\nPeter gasped, "Holy jumping catfish!" and grabbed Hogarth by the arm:\r\n"We\'d better get the hell away from here--fast!"\r\n\r\n"Why?"\r\n\r\nPeter started for the squawk-box. Hogarth got in his way. "You\'re not\r\ncommander of this crate now, Peter. I\'ll have to give any orders after\r\nyou tell me why."\r\n\r\n"There won\'t be time!"\r\n\r\n"We\'ll make time. Now what\'s cooking?"\r\n\r\n"The missile! It has crude memory circuits, that recall the\r\nconditions of the selected target for about two hours after the initial\r\nexposure ... they were put there in case a de-tracking maneuver should\r\ncause the torpedo to lose its quarry! They\'ll search for a target that\r\nfits the specifications contained in the memory banks and--"\r\n\r\n"But--"\r\n\r\n"Normally the missile would find the target and smash it. But _now\r\nthe target\'s gone_ ... and the missile is still running around\r\nloose, looking for a ship of X description! And from what I know of the\r\nCountermeasures Operation, each Drone is practically identical with the\r\nMother ship--"\r\n\r\nHogarth\'s face went white. He leaped past Ellsworth and started up the\r\nladder. "Henderson!" he bawled. "Get mov--"\r\n\r\nThe din that cut Hogarth off was as clamorous as an air-raid siren\r\nrunning in an empty ballroom. Sound racketed from bulkhead and deck as\r\nthe amplifiers ran full-throttle. The siren ceased abruptly long enough\r\nfor the stentorian cry:\r\n\r\n"_Battle Stations!_"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nPlate, girder and structure groaned as the _Vanguard_ leaped up\r\nat a full three-gravities and lurched. The Lanson generators in the\r\nemergency hold whined high to cancel the gravity-apparent. Bulkhead\r\nhatches slapped shut; tactic-lamps winked on; oil breakers plunged\r\nhome or came out as the normal load of the ship was switched from\r\ncruising-power to battle-demands.\r\n\r\nTwo spacemen came up through the hatch, which flipped open just long\r\nenough to let them through and then slammed closed again. One of them\r\nwent on up to the pilot\'s bridge. The other tackled a wire-sealed\r\nlocker with a heavy pair of cutters and came out with three spacesuits.\r\nHe hurled two of them at the commander and Peter Ellsworth and started\r\nclimbing into the third himself.\r\n\r\nFrom the squawk-box came the cries:\r\n\r\n"After Station Secure!"\r\n\r\n"After Battery Alert!"\r\n\r\n"Mid Battery Alert!"\r\n\r\n"Communications Alert!"\r\n\r\n"Foreturret Alert!"\r\n\r\n"Radar and Countermeasures Section Alert!"\r\n\r\n"Battlepower Stations Alert!"\r\n\r\n"Report," came Henderson\'s voice. "We are attacked by the Ellsworth\r\nSelf-Guided Missile. I caught sight of it coming a-beam, just in time\r\nto land on the acceleration. It missed by yards. It is now making an\r\noff-beam swing, curving below and inward. It\'s going to come up from\r\nbehind at about five o\'clock. Any orders, Commander Hogarth?"\r\n\r\n"Repel it!" roared Hogarth. He looked at Peter. "How do we stop this\r\ndamned Juggernaut of yours?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know," said Peter.\r\n\r\n"You\'d better find out!"\r\n\r\nPeter shook his head. "Everything I could think of was rigged into it."\r\n\r\nHogarth snorted and went up the ladder to the pilot\'s bridge. Peter\r\nfollowed.\r\n\r\nThe scene in space was depicted on the radar. Far behind and a bit\r\nto one side, the missile was turning to follow them, coming around\r\nin a graceful arc. The _Vanguard\'s_ velocity-meter was mounting\r\nswiftly; but not fast enough by far. The missile, much lighter than the\r\n_Vanguard_, was capable of higher acceleration. Also there was no\r\nneed of a Lanson generator on the completely mechanical gadget, so that\r\nthe counter-fields and the necessary mass did not interfere with high\r\ngee. So inevitably the missile would catch up with them, and that would\r\nbe that.\r\n\r\nHogarth looked at Ellsworth. "Radar?" he snapped.\r\n\r\n"Radar, infra-red, visible light, and ultra-violet as well as mass."\r\n\r\n"Countermeasures! Prepare and launch six radar corner-reflectors, three\r\nfission-flash bombs, three oxy-hydrogen flares, two R\xc3\xb6ntgen radiators\r\nand a Lanson generator."\r\n\r\nOnly seconds later there was a series of whooshing sounds as the items\r\nwere released. From below came a scattering of flares and blinkings\r\nthat fell behind as the ship\'s acceleration lifted it above the speed\r\nof the countermeasures devices.\r\n\r\n"Turn off the radar and the radio!" ordered Hogarth. "No radiation!\r\nHenderson, turn up the Lanson--maybe we can change the pattern of the\r\n_Vanguard_."\r\n\r\nThe _Vanguard_ was hitting it space-ward at seven gravities\r\nnow and the accelerometer was climbing. As the Lanson generator was\r\nturned up, the neutralized-to-normal gravity lightened so that each\r\nhundred pounds weighed only about twenty-five. Henderson nursed the\r\nrate-of-rise dial so that the acceleration increased more rapidly.\r\n\r\nRadar complained: "What\'s going on?"\r\n\r\n"Can\'t see. Dangerous to radiate."\r\n\r\n"Dangerous to not-see," growled Radio.\r\n\r\n"What do we do about it?" asked Hogarth.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nPeter thought. "We\'re like a man being hunted by a vicious animal," he\r\nsaid. "In order to run we\'ve got to keep an eye on him--but if we can\r\nsee him, he can see us! I--Look, Hogarth, we\'re not using the Z-wave\r\nthat couples Drone and Mother, are we?"\r\n\r\n"Not any more."\r\n\r\n"Well, that\'s the one band that the missile is blind in," said Peter.\r\n"We put in a filter so it wouldn\'t be able to follow the Z-wave ...\r\nthat\'s the only thing that isn\'t according to the specs. If you can\r\ntune your radar to use Z-waves, you can make that tick at least.\r\nAnything else you use to look at it will be an open door and a wide\r\nroad for it to follow."\r\n\r\n"Why didn\'t you put in a disabling circuit?" complained Hogarth.\r\n\r\n"So your gang couldn\'t find it and use it."\r\n\r\n"But at least you could have slipped in a self-destruction circuit to\r\nclick off after a certain length of time."\r\n\r\nPeter shook his head with a sour grin. "Why bother?" he said. "It\r\ncouldn\'t miss."\r\n\r\nHogarth roared, "You\'d better pray that it does!"\r\n\r\nInaudible, but strong enough to feel through the frame of the ship,\r\nthe after-station battery went to work. It was a staccato bark, one\r\neach second. A veritable hail of high-explosive shells roared back into\r\nspace.\r\n\r\nOne of the power-demand meters rose suddenly as the main beam-battery\r\nlashed out with raw energy.\r\n\r\nA pilot lamp winked on and off and on and off, each wink lighting\r\nup the tiny words "Solid Mines" as two cannisters of two-inch steel\r\nspheres were strewn in the trail of the _Vanguard_.\r\n\r\nFrom the squawk-box came a cackling laugh as someone pulled the\r\ninevitable, banal remark: "When you hear a pistol shot, duck; it\'s\r\ninside the ship!"\r\n\r\nThen the radar screen went on again. It was littered with flashing\r\nmotes; below them was the missile, coming up and up inexorably. As they\r\nwatched, sweating, a pale blue flash winked on its nose. The flash\r\nbecame a needle-beam that flicked on and off, and at each flick one of\r\nthe high-explosive shells blossomed briefly in space. It did not bother\r\nwith shells that would be absolute misses; just those that might be\r\ndangerous. The beam licked one of the countermeasures gadgets and the\r\nflare blew out far and wide.\r\n\r\nIt came up through the curtain of gadgets without pause. The circuits\r\nin its finder had decided some time before that these were diversions\r\nand not its intended target. It ignored them all--except the one it\r\nblasted out of its path.\r\n\r\nThe main beam-battery fired again; three barely-visible columns\r\nof light streaked away from the _Vanguard_ and thinned in\r\nthe distance. As the columns encountered the missile, the nose of\r\nthe torpedo disappeared behind a diaphanous-looking hemisphere of\r\npearly-flesh-colored hue. The powerful main-battery beams splashed away\r\nfrom the missile\'s defences like water hitting a smooth stone.\r\n\r\nHogarth bawled: "Main Battery: off Beams!"\r\n\r\nThe beams winked out. The pearly radiance ceased and the pale blue\r\nflicker came on again, dancing madly as it cleaned out a pathway\r\nthrough the soliding mines. A shell, lazier than the rest, flared\r\nbriefly.\r\n\r\n"Henderson: are we on emergency acceleration?"\r\n\r\n"We\'re climbing."\r\n\r\n"Climb faster!"\r\n\r\n"Can\'t. We might overload the Lanson."\r\n\r\n"Take a chance. We\'re dead if we don\'t."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n III\r\n\r\n\r\nThe floor surged up below them; the accelerometer crawled up past\r\ntwenty gravities and kept on going. The complaining cry of the Lanson\r\ncould be heard throughout the ship now; its output could not keep up\r\nwith the increasing acceleration. Peter felt as though it must be at\r\nleast three gravities behind and lagging more and more.\r\n\r\nThe missile came on. Its slow, steady advance was maddening. Endowed\r\nwith a fiendish sentience, it seemed to know that sooner or later it\r\nwould win and therefore need not extend itself beyond its maker\'s\r\ndesign.\r\n\r\nThe range kept closing.\r\n\r\n"After Station reporting: target visible on the optics!"\r\n\r\nHenderson snapped at the spaceman beside him: "Keep it in aim!"\r\n\r\nThe spaceman took the handles of the optical system and peered into the\r\neye-piece. In the glass above Henderson\'s board appeared the distant\r\nmote that carried their numbers etched on its mechanical guts.\r\n\r\nFascinated, they watched it.\r\n\r\nIt grew.\r\n\r\nIt was still coming in from one side, still tending to line up its\r\ndrive with the drive of the ship, closing steadily. Henderson\'s\r\nknuckles whitened on the steering controls; his feet fumbled for and\r\nfound the right pedals and put them under a slight pressure.\r\n\r\nFrom behind there came the coughing of the heavy space rifles; three of\r\nthem side by side, barking in sequence and vomiting one high-explosive\r\nshell every second. The space-mines light winked again and again. The\r\nmain-battery lashed at the missile; its beams splashed aside again,\r\neven at this range. The battery-crew stopped, for want of power and to\r\nlet the projectors cool. The winking light on the nose of the missile\r\nflickered madly and the space below the _Vanguard_ became dotted\r\nwith shell-bursts and flickers from the solid mines.\r\n\r\nA lamp winked on the board and Peter roared: "No! After Station, for\r\nGod\'s sake, _no_!"\r\n\r\nThe repeller-beam punched out, big and thick and tough as it went from\r\nthe throat of the projector, and thinning as it reached out for the\r\nnose of the missile. It touched.\r\n\r\nThe pearly barrier screen winked on briefly and then it flickered off\r\nagain. In its place there came a larger flicker of the pale blue.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe ship staggered as it took the shock. The missile\'s self-defence\r\nbeam speared upward through the repeller-emplacement and the enclosure\r\nexploded outward into space. There was a quick scream of escaping air,\r\ncut off a split-second later as several safety-bulkheads slapped shut.\r\n\r\n"Report!" roared Hogarth.\r\n\r\n"Jones got clipped, but he\'s not killed. Get Medico, commander."\r\n\r\n"Medico coming!" came another voice. Hatch-warning lamps on the panel\r\ntraced the course of the ship\'s doctor as he went below to the training\r\nstation for the repeller emplacement.\r\n\r\n"Torpedo Crew! Prepare and launch Missile Number Two!"\r\n\r\n"Correct, sir. Take four minutes."\r\n\r\n"Four?"\r\n\r\n"We\'ve anticipated you, sir."\r\n\r\n"Henderson, have we got four?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Good, good. Torp Crew?"\r\n\r\n"Yes?"\r\n\r\n"Good work. Take four--take five if needed but no more."\r\n\r\n"Make it three with luck, sir."\r\n\r\n"Fire whenever you get the damned thing loaded."\r\n\r\nHogarth looked at Peter with a grim smile. "Why didn\'t you think of\r\nthat?"\r\n\r\n"I did. It won\'t work."\r\n\r\n"Why not? The defence against a perfect missile is to use another\r\nperfect missile!"\r\n\r\n"But the one that\'s running now is hot and ready. The new one will take\r\na few milliseconds to get to running heat. In that time--"\r\n\r\nHogarth growled. "We\'ll try it."\r\n\r\n"Go ahead; but I say it won\'t work."\r\n\r\nHogarth half-turned away, and then swung back. "Look, Ellsworth, you\r\nseem to forget one thing."\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"This is no longer a game! At this sitting if you prove your ability\r\nto make a non-lousable missile you\'ll get the contract, all right, but\r\nit\'ll go to your heirs and assigns--because in getting the contract\r\nyou\'ll lose your life. You can stay alive only by helping to screw up\r\nthat damned thing out there."\r\n\r\n"What are you driving at?" Peter said coldly.\r\n\r\n"I\'m just thinking that no man ever made anything so perfect that it\r\ncouldn\'t be undone somehow. You\'re familiar enough with that gewgaw to\r\nhave developed some contempt for it. Now--what\'s its weak link?"\r\n\r\n"There aren\'t any, according to my knowledge."\r\n\r\n"Damn you, there must be!"\r\n\r\n"I\'ve spent a number of years thinking about it," said Peter. "Every\r\nfactor that could be thought of is covered."\r\n\r\n"But _look_ at it, man! Your life is riding on the nose of that\r\nthing. What\'s money and position now?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing," admitted Peter.\r\n\r\n"Get used to the idea," snapped Hogarth angrily. "It\'s--"\r\n\r\nThe _Vanguard_ lurched a trifle as the new torpedo was launched.\r\nEverybody turned to watch in the optical system.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMissile Number Two whuffed out of the torpedo tube and started to turn\r\nin a short arc that would make it intercept the course of Missile\r\nNumber One at precisely the same instant that Number One was passing\r\nthrough that point on its course.\r\n\r\nWhat happened then was merely a matter of circuitry. Number One\r\ncaught the new menace in its search beams and computed its course in\r\nits think-machinery. The answer came out bad; this new device was a\r\ndefinite menace, even though it was far to one side and still looping\r\naway. It would return.\r\n\r\nThe tiny, pale blue flicker thickened into a ravening beam as it lashed\r\nacross space to drill into the newcomer.\r\n\r\nThe same sphere of pearly radiance flashed into being around Missile\r\nNumber Two, but it was not fast enough. The primary battery beam of\r\nNumber One was into the midsection of Number Two before the screen\r\nwent up. It did get up, however, to cut off the rest of the beam,\r\nwhich splashed aside in a splatter of eye-aching fireworks and raised\r\nthe color of the barrier radiance. But the initial thrust of the beam\r\ndrilled home and Missile Number Two lost its drive. It faltered a bit\r\non its course; it wavered. It fell from power and loafed along for a\r\nquarter of a minute before it burst in a blinding incandescence.\r\n\r\n"And that," said Hogarth, "is what is in store for us--"\r\n\r\nThe Lanson, straining below, slipped a cog or missed a beat; more\r\nlikely, one of the overloaded parts flashed over to relieve the strain.\r\nFor a bare instant, everybody in the ship felt the full, bone-crushing\r\nstrain of more than thirty gravities. There was no question of its\r\nbeing deadly in magnitude, and only the brief duration saved their\r\nlives; the gravity switch did not even throw, and it was set for about\r\nsix gravities. The Lanson took up where it had left off, and the\r\n_Vanguard_ went on and on.\r\n\r\nThat bare instant was not long enough to cover more than a tiny portion\r\nof Commander Hogarth\'s past life, but the high spots he hit made him\r\nremember. He looked at Peter Ellsworth icily and said: "You know your\r\nRegs, Ellsworth."\r\n\r\nPeter nodded.\r\n\r\n"Then you know that I have the power to call upon any man, civilian or\r\nnot, to perform whatever duty I feel is within his power."\r\n\r\n"Do go on! Are you going to order me to stop this game?"\r\n\r\n"I so order."\r\n\r\n"Why not offer me a purse of money?" Peter said harshly.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll have no contempt, Mister Ellsworth!"\r\n\r\n"I\'m not giving you contempt. I\'m just telling you that if you think\r\nfor one moment that I\'m not doing all I can to keep us in a whole skin,\r\nyou\'re thinking wrong as hell!"\r\n\r\n"You\'ll--"\r\n\r\nPeter held up a hand. "There is one way," he said thoughtfully.\r\n\r\nHenderson\'s hands went whiter on the levers. Out of the corner of his\r\nmouth Peter said, "Steady, spaceman."\r\n\r\n"Best I can, sir."\r\n\r\n"What way?" asked Hogarth.\r\n\r\n"We\'ll have a fifty-fifty chance if we cut the ship in half! The\r\ncircuits in the missile won\'t register properly on a couple of\r\nship-halves--"\r\n\r\nHogarth grunted angrily. "Thus making it appear as though your missile\r\nwas unbeatable? Not on your life!"\r\n\r\nPeter looked at Hogarth as he might have at a roach in his coffee. "I\'m\r\nstill a young man," he said calmly. "I\'ve been reasonably happy and I\r\ndislike immensely the idea of dying. But if that\'s the way you feel,\r\nI\'ll go along with you quietly--but with a big flare to mark the spot."\r\n\r\nHogarth\'s face was puffy and red. "I still have the power to impress\r\nyou as I think you\'re able. I hereby make you temporary Executive\r\nOfficer of the _Vanguard_--and since I have been on duty for three\r\nhours without relief, I am going off duty, leaving you to command. I\r\nhave one order: _keep this ship intact!_"\r\n\r\n"I suppose it\'s court martial if that critter of mine roughs it up a\r\nbit?"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be banal. Just--"\r\n\r\n"Cutting apart might be a good idea," suggested Henderson. "It--"\r\n\r\n"You\'ll stay out of this!" roared Hogarth.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nPeter turned to the intercom and opened the key: "Radar! Radio!\r\nCountermeasures! Fire up!"\r\n\r\n"What about the radiation-silence?" asked Radar.\r\n\r\n"Forget it! The missile has our picture in its mind. We\'re not agile\r\nenough to play squirrel, and there just ain\'t no place to hide. We\r\nmight as well radiate all we want and get a better picture of the\r\nthing. Fire up!"\r\n\r\nThe blank screens went on; the one that had been pasted and patched to\r\nuse the Z-wave band winked out for a few seconds and then came back as\r\nthe regular--and more accurate--radar came back. The spaceman gave up\r\nthe optical sighter because it was no longer needed. The ranging-radar\r\nand the course-finding radar, coupled together with a ton of electronic\r\nequipment, produced a graphic diagram of the courses of missile and\r\ntarget--including the point where they crossed. Time and range were\r\ninstantly computed, and the ordnance men in their turrets relaxed; the\r\nvarious projectors were now aligning themselves automatically with the\r\nintercept-spot.\r\n\r\nThe missile was a few thousand yards behind and closing up the distance\r\nat an alarming rate.\r\n\r\n"Can you jerk-slew it?" snapped Peter.\r\n\r\nHenderson\'s white-knuckled hands moved. The drive ceased.\r\n\r\n"What in hell goes on!" roared Hogarth, coming out of his chair.\r\n\r\n"I\'m not relieved of command," replied Peter. "Sit down!"\r\n\r\nHenderson hit the steering drivers and turned the free-flying ship\r\nsidewise to its course.\r\n\r\n"Now!"\r\n\r\nHenderson hit the power lever as hard as he could. The _Vanguard_\r\nheaded out on a vector-angle to its course, leaving the proscribed\r\norbit at the maddeningly slow crawl of feet per second. At the same\r\nthirty-odd gravities, it still took time to put some space between the\r\ntail of the ship and the course upon which it had been running.\r\n\r\nThe angle was a backwards drive by some degrees. The effect was almost\r\nexactly the same as if the quarry had stopped and then angled sharply\r\non its course. The fact that the _Vanguard\'s_ velocity with\r\nrespect to Sol (or anything else in the universe) could be measured in\r\nthousands of feet per second had nothing to do with it. Relativity.\r\nThe important thing was the _Vanguard\'s_ course and velocity with\r\nrespect to the missile.\r\n\r\nThe missile, aware in its delicately-balanced circuits that the target\r\nhad swooped aside, was forced to repeat the same maneuver.\r\n\r\n_After_ it had seen the maneuver performed.\r\n\r\nIn spacial terms, the maneuvers of ship and missile could be described\r\nas "right-angling" away from their former course; but in relative\r\nterms, as seen from the ship, the missile seemed to perform a sharp\r\ncurve in pursuit of its target ... but not sharp enough. It missed.\r\nAnd the _Vanguard_ had another few minutes of respite; a few\r\nprecious yards of safety.\r\n\r\nIn no man\'s mind was the idea that this spelled defeat for the\r\nEllsworth Self-Guided Missile. The first knockdown does not end a\r\nprize-fight; in fact, the journey of a thousand miles begins with\r\na single step. The _Vanguard_ had been on the defensive from\r\nthe beginning, and the entire criterion of the exercise was whether\r\nthe _Vanguard_ and its crew could make Earthfall in one,\r\nwell-integrated piece.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nPeter watched Henderson eye the radar screen and begin to get set\r\nfor the same maneuver again. Then he opened his intercom and called:\r\n"Countermeasures? Get with the After Battery and see how fast you can\r\nrig up a fast-time electronic switch. Can you patch one between the\r\npressor-battery and the barrier screen?"\r\n\r\n"Probably. Why?"\r\n\r\n"You\'ve got to push that thing in the face and then cover your own face\r\nwhen it shoots back. You\'ll have a little longer time if you can make\r\nit a one-two-three with the screen, the main battery of beams, and then\r\nthe pressor. Get it?"\r\n\r\n"On the hop, sir."\r\n\r\nPeter looked at Commander Hogarth. The commander was sitting tense in\r\nhis chair, his elbow on the computer\'s table, his chin cupped in his\r\nhands. There was a completely nondescript expression on Hogarth\'s face.\r\nIf the obvious willingness of the crew to leap to Peter Ellsworth\'s\r\nslightest suggestion irked him, it did not show.\r\n\r\nAnd of the latter there was plenty of evidence. There was a ring to\r\nthe voice of Countermeasures--a sound of confidence. The tone of a\r\nman who knew and respected the person and the abilities of Peter\r\nEllsworth. There had been a sort of friendly rivalry when Peter had\r\ncome aboard: Peter had been the renegade who had gone over to the other\r\nside. But now he was back; and that he was back--and working against\r\nhimself--because his hide depended upon it seemed unimportant. The\r\nbasic fact was that of Peter\'s return.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n IV\r\n\r\n\r\nPlates groaned and girders complained as Henderson went into the\r\njerk-slew maneuver again. And the missile missed again, simply because\r\nit was a trailing device and had no precognition.\r\n\r\nBut it was a losing fight. Respite for the moment was gained--but\r\nthis could not go on forever. Each dodge brought the flaming death of\r\nthe missile\'s warhead nearer to them, so far as actual distance was\r\nconcerned; it merely brought it nearer "slower." The _Vanguard_\r\nwas the clever rabbit running from the dog. But there was no bramble in\r\nwhich to find safety.\r\n\r\nPeter studied the ranges, then glanced at the screen that diagrammed\r\nthe ship\'s course during such an operation. He grinned faintly. So far\r\nthe _Vanguard_ had eluded the missile; but if this had been a real\r\nspace engagement, the _Vanguard_, in its preoccupation with the\r\nmissile, would have been a sitting duck for the enemy ship that had\r\nreleased it.\r\n\r\nThe squawk-box said: "The gizmo is connected as you suggested, sir."\r\n\r\nPeter said, "Good. Let it rip!" He turned to Henderson. "Let\'s go,\r\nHenny. Straightaway, fast and hard!"\r\n\r\nHenderson leaned down on the levers, made the dodge, and went\r\nstraightaway.\r\n\r\n"Can you line up with our other course?"\r\n\r\n"Sure ... but why? Intrinsic velocity doesn\'t mean a thing. We\'re\r\nfighting one another, not one-another-with-respect-to-Sol. As far as\r\nrelative positions go, we\'re just standing still and all I\'m doing on\r\nthese levers is running your missile back and forth in space."\r\n\r\n"I know; but I have an idea."\r\n\r\nHenderson nodded and fiddled with his levers again until the course was\r\nlined up with the previous line of flight.\r\n\r\n"Okay, idea ahead," he said. He set the rate-of-rise dial as high as\r\nhe could without winking on the alarm lamp and began to lean back.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t relax yet. This might not work."\r\n\r\n"I\'m not relaxed. I won\'t be relaxed until I\'m back on Mars, steering\r\nmy blonde around a crowded dance floor."\r\n\r\nFrom below came the alternate hiss and click of equipment, and on\r\nthe radar screens there was an off-and-on stuttering. The deadly,\r\neye-searing columns from the main beam-battery lashed out, flickered\r\na moment against the inside of the _Vanguard\'s_ defense-barrier;\r\nthen the barrier winked off and the beams drilled down at the missile,\r\nto splash aside as spectacularly harmless. A moment later the beams\r\nthemselves winked out; and the missile\'s pearly-radiant barrier, its\r\nstimulus gone, died also. Instantly the pressors slammed their thick\r\ncolumns against the missile\'s nose. They gave a hard, powerful thrust,\r\nthen were cut off. The _Vanguard\'s_ barrier leaped up again just\r\nin time to stop the missile\'s counter-attack.\r\n\r\nIt was _bang! press! cover-up!_ ... again and again and again.\r\n\r\n"Are we making any headway?"\r\n\r\n"The range-record says we\'re not losing ground as fast as we were."\r\n\r\nPeter took a breath. "We\'ll hit a balance point," he predicted.\r\n\r\n"When?"\r\n\r\n"Pressors exert force in inverse proportion to the range. So--the\r\ncloser that thing of mine comes, the harder it\'ll get pushed back.\r\nEventually the thrust versus the missile\'s drive will reach a balance."\r\n\r\nHenderson nodded. "And when does that goddammed monster of yours run\r\nout of power so we can leave it here and go home to my blonde?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s got about twice as much reserve as the _Vanguard_."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHenderson groaned and looked at the range-record; it was mildly\r\nheartening. The missile had closed from ten thousand yards to five\r\nthousand yards in a matter of a minute; but the next twenty-five\r\nhundred yards had taken a bit more than a minute, and the next section\r\nof twelve-hundred fifty almost two minutes.\r\n\r\nThe process of _bang! press! cover-up!_ continued.\r\n\r\nEvery eye on the _Vanguard_ watched and every mind was busy with\r\nthe same computation. And in a half hour the missile had closed up\r\nto a couple of hundred yards and was, to all intents and purposes,\r\nstationary with the ship. As far as the missile was concerned, its\r\ndriving thrust was now equal to the resistance it encountered, and so\r\nit no longer moved.\r\n\r\nHenderson asked: "May I relax now?"\r\n\r\n"Until we can think of something, yes."\r\n\r\nHogarth sat up, cleared his throat, and said, "You\'ve done half a job,\r\nEllsworth. Keep it up."\r\n\r\nPeter eyed the commander. "What do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"I hate to admit this, but the rules regarding self-guided missiles\r\nstate no time-limit. From a statistical point of view, you\'re\r\na fifty-fifty success, so far. If this were a real engagement,\r\nthe _Vanguard_ would now be considered immobilized ... your\r\none-million dollar missile has immobilized a fifty million dollar\r\nspacecraft. So only until we finish this job can anybody come up with a\r\ndecision. So go right ahead, Ellsworth."\r\n\r\nPeter grunted. "Now _you\'re_ thinking about this as a game,\r\nHogarth. This is no time to yap about contracts." He turned to the\r\nintercom and asked:\r\n\r\n"Supplies! Have you got a spare Lanson?"\r\n\r\n"Three of \'em."\r\n\r\n"Crew hear this: Maintenance prepare to jury-rig the ship\'s spares for\r\noperation. Engineering, prepare to connect the control circuits to the\r\nexisting servos." He glanced at Hogarth. "We may get out of this yet!"\r\n\r\n"How?"\r\n\r\n"We\'ve one chance," said Peter. "And it\'ll take time. You see, the\r\nLanson field tends to neutralize mass. The missile has no Lanson\r\ngenerator because it is not equipped with a crew that starts to fold up\r\nunder a few gravities."\r\n\r\n"That\'s a great help," snorted Hogarth.\r\n\r\n"Damn right it is! If we can set up a terrific Lanson field we can\r\nneutralize our mass ... then we can run up our acceleration to some\r\nreally high values! We can probably approach velocities in the region\r\nwhere the Einstein increase in mass becomes considerable; but since\r\nour mass will be neutralized, we can squeeze right up in there near\r\nConstant. And the missile, having no Lanson, won\'t be able to make it.\r\nWe can then run away from it."\r\n\r\n"You can\'t neutralize that much mass."\r\n\r\n"I know it. But even one Lanson field in the ship will do the job of\r\nmaking fifty gravities feel like three. So pack two of \'em side by side\r\nand you can double it, at least--"\r\n\r\n"Fifty times the square-root of two times fifty, plus--"\r\n\r\n"--all right, we\'ll go through the figures later. But it adds up."\r\n\r\n"Right. That it does."\r\n\r\n"And with four of \'em--"\r\n\r\nHenderson turned back to his radar for a moment and then shook his\r\nhead. "You sound like the guy who installed three fifty-percent\r\npower-savers on his crate and had to bale out the gas-tank every thirty\r\nmiles! What\'re you trying to do? Get half-way to Centauri?"\r\n\r\nEllsworth shrugged. "We\'re half way to Hell right now."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey all turned to watch the screens. This, if anything, was worse than\r\nbefore. There had been a tenseness, then; the excitement had poured\r\nadrenalin into the veins and tuned them high. There had been deadly\r\ndanger, averted only by some very fast and rough action.\r\n\r\nBut now the deadly danger was back there, dogging their heels by a\r\ncouple of hundred yards.\r\n\r\nIt was held rigidly at that distance by the pressors, which were\r\nprotected by the fast flash of the barrier screen, and given their\r\nopportunity to press down by the switching needs of the missile\'s own\r\ncircuitry.\r\n\r\nThe crew could do nothing ... nothing but watch; for the super-fast\r\nelectronic switches could outperform the human mechanism by at least a\r\nthousand to one. So instead of being tensed for action--human beings\r\ntoned into momentary supermen by adrenalin--these same human beings sat\r\nand worried about the missile because they now had the time to sit and\r\nworry.\r\n\r\nAll it would take to blast them into nothing-much was to have a fuse\r\nblow or a tube kick out or a capacitor break down or a resistor\r\noverload or a transformer flash over or a circuit breaker crash\r\nopen ... so many things could go haywire. To be sure, such a failure\r\ncould be repaired in a matter of five minutes by this particular crew\r\nof technical experts. But five minutes was about four minutes and fifty\r\nnine seconds too late.\r\n\r\nIt took a little longer than it should have taken to rig the auxiliary\r\nLanson generators, because the gang was busy taking quick looks out\r\nof the after-ports or into the radar screens to see their nemesis.\r\nBut eventually they got the extra generators rigged, and then, with\r\nspecialized men sitting at various relay stations to observe the\r\npossible effects of overload, Henderson cut them in and at the same\r\ntime upped the rate-of-rise dial.\r\n\r\nThe accelerometer on Henderson\'s instrument board quietly zipped\r\nacross the scale, bent the needle against the safety-peg, and then\r\nafter waiting for a few minutes, gave up. A small cloud of white\r\nsmoke obscured the scale; that meter would smell like hell when the\r\nmeter-repair man took it apart. Of course, it was useless anyway.\r\nNormal accelerometers depend upon the apparent increase in the\r\ngravitational constant. But on a spacecraft where a Lanson generator\r\nis used to create a neutralization of part of the mass so that the\r\nacceleration can run high without crushing the crew, the accelerometer\r\nwas a complex integrating circuit that measured the power going into\r\nthe Lanson, compared it to the power that went into the drivers,\r\nmeasured the true gravity of what was left, performed some internal\r\ncomputations and came up with an electrical current that registered on\r\nthe control panel.\r\n\r\nWith three Lansons running beside the normal one, and the drivers\r\npushing far beyond their usual scope, the power was so far above its\r\ntop reading of fifty-gravity emergency power that the accelerometer was\r\nuseless.\r\n\r\nPeter rigged up the doppler spectrograph and tried to get an estimate\r\nof how fast they were going away from Sol. It was a good try, but\r\nit failed; the constant flash-flash-flash of the main battery of\r\nthe missile, mingled with the ripostal flash-flash-flash of the\r\n_Vanguard_, loused up the observations. Not even the heavens\r\nforward could be seen through the blaze.\r\n\r\nHenderson called Engineering, and soon a sequence-camera was being\r\nrigged--one that would be open only when the flashing was off.\r\n\r\n"Now," said Peter, "we wait."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n V\r\n\r\n\r\nHours passed. Velocity mounted. The missile was still dogging their\r\ntracks. It stayed about two hundred yards back, retreating a bit under\r\nthe lash of the pressors and coming up between thrusts. Its average\r\ndistance had not changed.\r\n\r\nThe worry and concern over a possible failure was almost gone. With\r\nnothing to do but fret, the crew to a man had spent their time\r\nbuttering up their hastily-rigged circuits. The first electronic switch\r\nhad been augmented by another one and semi-connected, so that in case\r\nof a failure in the first the second would cut in with no more than\r\none single sequence of failure. Men sat over the Lanson generators,\r\nwatching. The back covers were off and set aside and the crew worked\r\nover them with test equipment. Voltages and currents were read from\r\npoint to point and the alignment was under constant observation. Parts\r\nwere replaced by the techniques once started by the telephone companies\r\nof an early Terrestrial Era, who learned how to transfer the lines\r\nfrom one cable to another, and from one central office switchboard\r\nto another, without causing the man who might be using one of the\r\nlines to suspect that his voice had suddenly changed its route. Of\r\nall of the various operations, only the doppler spectrograph proved\r\na flat failure. The sequence-camera was set up and tried; but the\r\ntime-interval between exposure and development was too long to permit\r\nthe careful focusing of the instrument on Sol. All they got was smudge\r\nafter smudge.\r\n\r\nThen they gave up, because someone down in Observation cried: "We\'re\r\npulling away!"\r\n\r\nEverybody went below.\r\n\r\nIt was true. The sequence of flashing had changed, too; but the\r\nimportant thing was that--perceptibly--the missile was receding.\r\n\r\nSlowly it dropped back and back until it was no more than a mote in the\r\ndistance.\r\n\r\nWarily, the fire-push-barrier system was shut off.\r\n\r\nRadar reported the missile as fifty thousand yards behind and losing\r\nrange.\r\n\r\nNo one heard Radar except vaguely. What they were more interested in\r\nwas the sight of space around them.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was a complete and total blank. Not a star, no trace of Sol, not\r\na smudge of distant galaxy or even the slight luminosity of galactic\r\ngases. The sky in any direction was a complete and horrid black nothing.\r\n\r\nIt was Peter that said it: "No one knows how fast we\'ve been\r\naccelerating. But let\'s face it: we can\'t expect much measureable\r\nincrease in mass until we get into the upper brackets of velocity.\r\nWe\'re probably running to within a few tenths of a percent of the\r\nvelocity of light."\r\n\r\nHogarth shook his head. "We haven\'t had time. To accelerate to the\r\nvelocity of light with ten thousand gravities would take--"\r\n\r\nPeter nodded. "And we haven\'t ten thousand, I\'m sure. But don\'t forget\r\nthat we may have been running on subjective time, too."\r\n\r\n"Huh?" said Hogarth.\r\n\r\n"Time ceases to exist for those running at Constant."\r\n\r\n"And--?"\r\n\r\n"As you approach the speed of light time slows down toward zero."\r\n\r\n"Just what do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"Just what I said."\r\n\r\nHenderson groaned. "My blonde," he complained. "Not only have I stood\r\nher up, but she\'ll be a hag by the time we get back."\r\n\r\nHogarth snarled, "Henderson, shut the hell up! I\'ve got a wife and kids\r\nback there that I\'d hate to find gone. Forget that damned blonde of\r\nyours. She\'s probably unfaithful anyway."\r\n\r\nHenderson chuckled. "That\'s what bothers me. I know she is--"\r\n\r\nHogarth started to roar, and Henderson shut up finally.\r\n\r\n"So what do we do now?" asked Hogarth of Peter.\r\n\r\n"We can\'t just swap ends, because my missile will continue on its\r\nnormal course," he said thoughtfully. "What we\'ve got to do is to\r\ncontinue accelerating for some time, but adding a sidewise component\r\nto our course once we know that we are out of detection range of the\r\nmissile. Then we can turn around and head back."\r\n\r\n"And what\'s the detection range?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m not sure. As good as ours or better."\r\n\r\n"Radar!" bawled Hogarth. "Radar, fire up that loused-up Z-wave radar\r\nhookup of yours and see if you can catch that asterisked missile."\r\n\r\n"That\'s what I\'m worried about mostly," said Peter. "I have a Z-wave\r\nlocator in the missile, too. It runs on gravitics, you know, which\r\nhave an instantaneous speed of propagation; the range is limited to the\r\npower. It would--"\r\n\r\nThe squawk-box opened up and said: "According to this Z-wave gewgaw,\r\nyour missile is almost three thousand miles behind. Fading fast. Four\r\nkilos now, and you can make that five by the time I end this gab.\r\nYah--five!"\r\n\r\n"--normally begin to come weak at about twenty thousand miles,"\r\ncontinued Peter. "But if we\'re hipping it up close to the speed of\r\nlight, our mass must be something terrific, and that extends the\r\neffectiveness of the Z-wave, too."\r\n\r\n"But the Lanson--"\r\n\r\n"The field from the Lanson generator is local. And even so, it has\r\nnothing to do with the Einstein Increase. So far as the outside\r\nuniverse goes we are a massive something-or-other traversing space at\r\na velocity near to that of light. I\'m of the opinion that we are near\r\nenough to Constant so that the increase in mass has gone high enough to\r\nproduce the Einstein warping of the space fields. That\'s why no light\r\nis getting in."\r\n\r\nNo one felt too much like arguing with Peter. Radar eventually reported\r\nthat the missile had dropped beyond range. Hogarth looked at Peter, who\r\nstill shook his head. "Let\'s run like this for another hour," he said.\r\n"I\'d like to be sure."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIf anybody ever got around to plotting it, the course of the\r\n_Vanguard_ would be magnificent ogee curve, covering an\r\nastronomical distance.\r\n\r\nThey had come straight out from Sol. Now the _Vanguard_ stopped\r\naccelerating along the line of flight, turned sidewise, and started\r\nto accelerate in a direction at right angles to the original course.\r\nSince the _Vanguard_ still moved in the original direction at a\r\nconstant velocity but was now adding the sidewise component, the course\r\nwould take the shape of a logarithmic curve. Peter Ellsworth and Henry\r\nHenderson, the pilot, drove the _Vanguard_ for four solid hours\r\nin this sidewise direction; then, of course, it was necessary to swap\r\nends with the ship to decelerate another four hours.\r\n\r\nThe end-product of this maneuvering was to place the _Vanguard_\r\non a parallel course to the original, but displaced by some distance\r\nastronomically high enough to permit the ship to return without meeting\r\nthe missile.\r\n\r\nThe stars returned after a long interval of deceleration. They appeared\r\nin that outside field of awesome blackness as faint misshapen smudges\r\nof spread-out light that showed a tendency to coalesce. The stars\r\ncondensed slowly, looking like the effect on the ground glass of a\r\ncamera during a focusing operation. It was some time before they\r\nactually sharpened down to their familiar pinpoint appearance, and\r\neven then there was a definite fore-to-aft dissimilarity in color: the\r\n_Vanguard_ was still going faster than any ship ever had.\r\n\r\nBut of more interest to the crew, who watched with their hands ready\r\nto crash down on the switches that controlled the system that held the\r\nmissile at bay, was the sky nearby. The missile must not be there.\r\nIt could not be there. By all of the laws of logic and of science it\r\nshould not be there. The _Vanguard_ could be pronounced safe if\r\nthe theory held true: If A cannot detect B, then B can not detect A,\r\nall other things being equal.\r\n\r\nThe theory seemed to hold true. No missile. The crew relaxed.\r\n\r\n"Which is Sol?" asked Hogarth. "It doesn\'t show a disc."\r\n\r\n"We must have cut us up quite a distance," said Peter. "But we\'re not\r\nlost. That\'s Sol right there; the bright one that doesn\'t belong in\r\nthat constellation. Catch it?"\r\n\r\nHogarth nodded. "Let\'s get there. For one thing, I want to find out\r\nabout this subjective-objective time business."\r\n\r\nPeter nodded. He swung the dials and centered the viewplate on a binary\r\nbelow. "That\'s Centauri," he said. "But we can\'t tell how close we are\r\nto it, any more than we can measure the distance back to Sol. We can\r\ncompute it when we get back, maybe. But let\'s face it, we probably are\r\nnot more than a few light-weeks out from Sol, which means that we\'ve\r\nspent some real weeks of time en route. Say six. Maybe eight. So what?\r\nWe\'ll get those answers when we get back home. But for the moment,\r\nCommander Hogarth, may I now resign from my post? I have succeeded in\r\ncarrying out your orders; I have eluded the Ellsworth Self-Guiding\r\nMissile. Your _Vanguard_ is in one piece. We can now return and\r\nmake Terrafall in one chunk." He sighed. "Peter Ellsworth is a flat\r\nfailure as a design engineer and a total loss as a financial risk. I\'d\r\nlike to take my somewhat mingled feelings somewhere and nurse them."\r\n\r\n"Mingled?"\r\n\r\nPeter nodded. "Mingled. This has been a rough row to hoe: I\'ve invented\r\nthe missile that no man could louse-up, and then I\'ve had to go out and\r\nlouse it up in order to keep my hide whole. I\'m almost convinced that\r\nit isn\'t too bad to be a dead hero."\r\n\r\nHogarth said gruffly, "If that\'s the way you feel, you\'re relieved of\r\nduty. You will get my official recommendation. Okay?"\r\n\r\n"Okay as it can be, I guess. I\'m going to my quarters. Wake me up when\r\nwe get to Terra."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe _Vanguard_ came down onto the vast sands of the desert\r\nspaceport, where it was met by hordes of military bigwigs and sobbing\r\nrelatives. The crewmen were enfolded by the latter. Hogarth went into\r\nthe Countermeasures office to report. Henderson hiked to the telephone\r\nto see what he could do about repairing the damaged affections of his\r\nstood-up date.\r\n\r\nPeter looked at the men who had come to meet him. They piled him into\r\ntheir car and drove back to Operations.\r\n\r\n"Well?" one of them asked coldly.\r\n\r\nPeter explained.\r\n\r\n"But you were so damned certain."\r\n\r\n"I know what to do--"\r\n\r\n"Forget it, Ellsworth. Forget it. No man has ever made anything that\r\nsomeone couldn\'t un-make. So what do we do about the investments?"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll pay it back."\r\n\r\n"With what?"\r\n\r\nPeter shook his head. "Tactically, there is a good chance that the\r\nthing will be acceptable. You see, even though we got away from it, the\r\nmissile immobilized the _Vanguard_ for about--what was it?--four\r\nmonths?"\r\n\r\n"Not good enough. A normal contract for making these things doesn\'t pay\r\nhigh enough to make it worth while. The initial contract-grant would\r\nhave paid us back neatly if we\'d been able to follow the stipulations.\r\nWe invested on a short-term proposition, and none of us can afford the\r\nlong-term contract."\r\n\r\n"There\'s this," suggested Peter. "We can put a Lanson in the missile--"\r\n\r\n"No good. The first thing that OpNav is going to do is to install\r\nmultiple Lanson gear in the ships. You\'re licked."\r\n\r\nPeter nodded.\r\n\r\n"That isn\'t all. You\'re bankrupt."\r\n\r\nHogarth came into Operations. "Got some news, Ellsworth. OpNav is going\r\nto install the multi-Lanson equipment in their crates. They\'ll assume\r\nthat you were the inventor and pay you a fee--"\r\n\r\n"How much?" one of Peter\'s backers asked bluntly.\r\n\r\nHogarth smiled. "They\'re looking up Peter\'s financial status right now.\r\nThe fee will be made exactly the amount that Peter Ellsworth borrowed\r\nfrom you gentlemen to create the Ellsworth Missile."\r\n\r\n"Excellent!" the backer said.\r\n\r\nPeter grunted. "Broke but honest. Why not add me a couple of dollars?"\r\n\r\nHogarth shook his head. "With you broke and no future," he said slyly,\r\n"there\'s only one thing for you to do. You\'ll have to rejoin the Force."\r\n\r\nOne of Peter\'s creditors asked: "You\'ll turn over that payment, of\r\ncourse?"\r\n\r\nPeter nodded. "We\'ll accept."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey left him, then. He stood there by the window, looking out across\r\nthe bald spaceport. The _Vanguard_, empty and deserted, stood\r\nagainst the sky a few miles away like a monument to his big flop. Gone\r\nwere his hopes, his ambitions, his chances to make a barrel of cash so\r\nhe could retire and spend the rest of his life tinkering with doodads\r\nand gadgets as he pleased. He was no longer bankrupt; but it stood to\r\nreason that he was looking at his next home: the _Vanguard_. He\'d\r\nhave to re-enter the Service, and when he did they\'d toss him into his\r\nold job again. Peter could see nothing more for the rest of his active\r\nlife than driving the ship up and down the solar system.\r\n\r\n"Damn it!" he breathed bitterly. "I wish that missile had hit us!"\r\n\r\nThere came the sudden scream of a siren; it broke off to permit\r\nthe stertorian roar of the landing field\'s monster speaker to cry:\r\n"_Battle Stations!_"\r\n\r\nMen raced out across the field; projectors swiveled around to point\r\nupwards and vomit beams of energy that seared the air and made the\r\nscreech of the siren pale by comparison; a launching station across the\r\nfield slapped a rising web of missiles across the sky--\r\n\r\nNo one saw it.\r\n\r\nBut there was a burst of intolerable light across the field that\r\nexpanded into veritable sunshine. Heat tightened Peter\'s face as he\r\ntook a step backward. The blast came next, to shatter the windows. The\r\nroom filled with the tinkle of falling glass. The shock tore at Peter,\r\nspinning him half around before it hurled him to the floor. Plaster\r\nsifted down on him. The ground itself shook.\r\n\r\nOut where the _Vanguard_ should have been was the beginning of a\r\npillar of white billowing smoke.\r\n\r\nPeter looked at the pillar rising towards the stratosphere.\r\n\r\nHe did not look blankly, nor uncomprehendingly. He looked with\r\ngratification. All he had to do now was to talk his way out of the fact\r\nthat there was one hell of a big hole in Terra\'s finest spaceport and a\r\nlot of busted glass to account for.\r\n\r\nPeter Ellsworth\'s mind was busily planning his next gadget as he left\r\nOperations to find Hogarth.\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOMBS AWRY ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Harilek : $b A romance'

'Gompertz, Martin Louis Alan'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Harilek\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Harilek\r\n A romance\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Martin Louis Alan Gompertz\r\n\r\nRelease date: June 5, 2023 [eBook #70913]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nOriginal publication: United States: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1923\r\n\r\nCredits: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARILEK ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nHARILEK\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n HARILEK\r\n\r\n _A Romance_\r\n\r\n BY\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cGANPAT\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n [Illustration]\r\n\r\n BOSTON AND NEW YORK\r\n HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\r\n The Riverside Press Cambridge\r\n 1923\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\r\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED\r\n\r\n The Riverside Press\r\n CAMBRIDGE \xc2\xb7 MASSACHUSETTS\r\n PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n TO\r\n ARYENIS\r\n SOMETIMES DELICIOUSLY\r\n SAPIENTISSIMA\r\n SOMETIMES ADORABLY\r\n BABETTE\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STORY-TELLER\xe2\x80\x99S INVITATION\r\n\r\n\r\n I\xe2\x80\x99ll tell you a tale of a far-off land,\r\n Cliff-girt o\xe2\x80\x99er the yellow desert sand,\r\n And crowned with peaks of snow;\r\n Of forests of pine and a garden gay,\r\n Of shirts of mail in a steel-capped fray,\r\n And shafts from the six-foot bow.\r\n\r\n Of soldier-men and of maidens fair--\r\n Of a fairy princess with red-gold hair\r\n In a stronghold of wizards cruel;\r\n Of a fight or two of an old-world kind--\r\n Magazine-rifle and spear combined,\r\n And death in a hand-locked duel.\r\n\r\n Of men and women like me and you,\r\n Of love old-fashioned yet ever new,\r\n Brave eyes in a valley of fear;\r\n Of the cold grey steel and the long warm kiss,\r\n With a proper ending of honeymoon bliss--\r\n Won\xe2\x80\x99t you gather round me and hear?\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cGANPAT\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nFOREWORD\r\n\r\n\r\nIn giving this story to the world I must frankly confess that I do\r\nnot know whether it is a remarkable record of actual adventure, or a\r\nfantastic romance from the pen of some one gifted with a particularly\r\nvivid imagination.\r\n\r\nHarry Lake and I last parted in 1920 near Sorarogha in Waziristan, on\r\nthe Indian frontier--I bound for home on leave, he in charge of the\r\npicketing troops, whose business it was to ensure the reasonably safe\r\npassage of wearied soldiery like me through the knife-edged hills,\r\nwhere the Mahsud snipers made night noisy and day sometimes dangerous.\r\n\r\nI have known him on and off for many years. Stationed together before\r\nthe war, our paths led apart in 1914--he to France with his regiment,\r\nI to East Africa with mine--to meet again in a London hospital in late\r\n1915. With him once more in India in 1917, I then lost sight of him for\r\nover two years, till January, 1920, brought us together in a rather\r\nnoisy brawl in Mahsud Waziristan, where the tribesmen were taking\r\nexception to our military promenade up their pet valley.\r\n\r\nI know his people slightly, more particularly his sister, Ethel\r\nWheeler, to whom he refers in his story, but she does not often favour\r\nme with letters. It was somewhat of a surprise, therefore, when in\r\nOctober last year, while a student at the Staff College, Quetta, an\r\nEnglish mail brought me a bulky parcel and a letter from her, enclosing\r\none from Lake, in which was the following passage:\r\n\r\n I don\xe2\x80\x99t know if you are still doing anything in the author line,\r\n but if you are you might amuse yourself editing this record which I\r\n have made up from my diary. You are always keen on out-of-the-way\r\n places, and in sending this off, on the very shadowy chance of it\r\n ever reaching home, it occurred to me that you might like to see\r\n it, so I am telling Ethel to pass it on to you. If you care to get\r\n it published, you are welcome, the more so since I think the world\r\n could do with such a record of simple adventure as an antidote to the\r\n kind of stuff appearing when I left civilization.\r\n\r\nI opened the parcel that night and dipped into the stained pages. There\r\nwas a good deal of work on hand, but I\xe2\x80\x99m afraid it got left over, for\r\nit was past four in the morning before I turned the last pages with a\r\nrather dazed brain, but a firm determination to edit the story. The\r\nkind assistance of Miss Douie--sister of a fellow-student--enabled me\r\nto get it typed in the little spare time snatched--mostly very late\r\nat night--from a strenuous course of instruction; while the local\r\nknowledge of Central Asia of Major Blacker--another fellow-student--was\r\nof the greatest help in following Lake\xe2\x80\x99s rather hieroglyphic record of\r\nhis journey to Sakaeland.\r\n\r\nWhether red-gold-haired Aryenis and her grave-eyed father, stalwart\r\nHenga and his Sake bowmen, Philos and his pretty wife and blue-eyed\r\nbaby, crippled Paulos, the fiendish Shamans and the murderous brown\r\nSakae are real living people, I cannot pretend to say, any more than\r\nI can tell whether pine-fringed Aornos, the snow-peaks of Saghar Mor,\r\nor the gloomy Shaman citadel, with its red-hot trapdoor, exist outside\r\nLake\xe2\x80\x99s brain. All I can say is that he has never told me anything but\r\nthe truth all the years I have known him. Payindah I remember well,\r\nwhile Wrexham I met several times in 1917, and both are very accurately\r\ndescribed.\r\n\r\nIf the story is true, then I cannot say how the letters and the\r\nmanuscript reached us, save that, from the vernacular inscriptions\r\non the original wrapping which Ethel Wheeler sent me, it has clearly\r\nbeen passed from hand to hand by Indian merchants on the Chinese trade\r\nroute. Perhaps Lake and his friends found the missing camels, and built\r\nup a sufficient store of water at stages across the desert to enable\r\none or two determined men to make a flying journey out and back to hand\r\nover their letters to some Indian trader. But he has given no details\r\nas to how he proposed to get their letters home.\r\n\r\nIf Lake\xe2\x80\x99s record is genuine, then I envy him intensely, and hope that\r\nit will be many, many years before any explorer, even of the type of\r\ngenial Sir Aurel Stein, penetrates to Sakaeland, for it and its people\r\nseem to me far too pleasing for one to wish them spoilt by the contact\r\nof twentieth-century civilization.\r\n\r\nIf, on the other hand, it is merely an invention of Lake\xe2\x80\x99s to while\r\naway monotonous evenings during his explorations in unknown Central\r\nAsia, where he certainly is, then I hope that his readers will find it\r\nas interesting and realistic as I and others here have done.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cGANPAT\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n STAFF COLLEGE\r\n QUETTA, BALUCHISTAN\r\n _1st January, 1923_\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONTENTS\r\n\r\n\r\n FOREWORD ix\r\n\r\n I. I MEET WREXHAM AND FORSYTH 3\r\n\r\n II. OLD JOHN WREXHAM\xe2\x80\x99S DIARY 13\r\n\r\n III. WREXHAM\xe2\x80\x99S STORY 22\r\n\r\n IV. THE GREAT DECISION 33\r\n\r\n V. THE JUMPING-OFF LINE 40\r\n\r\n VI. THE DESERT 50\r\n\r\n VII. THE DISTANT HILLS 64\r\n\r\n VIII. THE GATE 76\r\n\r\n IX. A LADY JOINS US 90\r\n\r\n X. BELOW THE CLIFFS 110\r\n\r\n XI. THE CAVES 124\r\n\r\n XII. ARYENIS\xe2\x80\x99S PEOPLE 137\r\n\r\n XIII. WE JOIN WITH KYRLOS 147\r\n\r\n XIV. WE VISIT THE BORDER 157\r\n\r\n XV. WE SPEAK WITH AN ENVOY AND RIDE TO AORNOS 170\r\n\r\n XVI. ARYENIS AND I VISIT PAULOS 190\r\n\r\n XVII. ARYENIS\xe2\x80\x99S HOME-COMING 205\r\n\r\n XVIII. A SHAMAN RAID 220\r\n\r\n XIX. PAULOS DOES SOME THOUGHT-READING 234\r\n\r\n XX. I MAKE A BET WITH ARYENIS 251\r\n\r\n XXI. I AM GIVEN A FOLLOWING 262\r\n\r\n XXII. THE ASTARA DEFILE 273\r\n\r\n XXIII. I PRETEND TO UNDERSTAND ARYENIS 286\r\n\r\n XXIV. I WIN MY BET 300\r\n\r\n XXV. SHAMANTOWN 310\r\n\r\n XXVI. THE GATE AGAIN 322\r\n\r\n XXVII. ARYENIS AND I FIND SOME THINGS THAT MATTER 331\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nHARILEK\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nHARILEK\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I\r\n\r\nI MEET WREXHAM AND FORSYTH\r\n\r\n\r\nMost of the big things in life hinge on very small beginnings. I wonder\r\nif the people who pose as pure materialists ever reflect on that\r\nfact when they hold forth on their complete and absolute certainty\r\nthat there is no guiding hand in men\xe2\x80\x99s affairs or in the conception,\r\ncreation, and control of that most wonderfully intricate piece of\r\nmachinery, the universe.\r\n\r\nMissing a train, accepting an invitation, having a dance cut, all may\r\nprove the turning-point in a life if you take the trouble to trace\r\nthings back to their beginnings.\r\n\r\nTake my own case, as I sit writing here with a glimpse of the twin\r\nsnow-peaks of Saghar Mor through my open window, rose-red in the\r\nlast light of the setting sun, above a level haze of lilac. Here am\r\nI with all I ever sought of life, all and far more. And yet, but\r\nfor a chance visit to the Karachi Gymkhana Club some two years ago,\r\nI should probably to-day be smoking a pipe in my old Sussex manor\r\nfarmhouse, after a day in the stubble, leading a quiet uneventful life,\r\ncontent--in a way--but having savoured only a fraction of what life\r\nreally holds.\r\n\r\nA gymkhana club bar does not sound the ideal starting-point for a\r\nlife\xe2\x80\x99s romance, for a complete change in all that life may mean, and\r\nyet it so happened to me, as doubtless it has happened before and may\r\nhappen again to others.\r\n\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99ve been thinking for some time of writing down the events of the\r\nlast two years, partly because they sometimes seem so unreal that the\r\nonly way to bring home their concreteness--if I may coin a word--is\r\nto put them down in cold, hard black-and-white, partly because I think\r\nthey may serve to show others that romance is not yet dead, and that\r\nadventure is still to be found for those who will but pluck up heart\r\nand seek.\r\n\r\nWhat is that passage of Kipling\xe2\x80\x99s about Truth being an undressed lady\r\nat the bottom of a well, and that if you meet her--well, as a gentleman\r\nthere are only two things to do, one to look away, the other to give\r\nher a print dress? So I, being, I hope, a gentleman, choose the latter.\r\n\r\nTo begin at the very beginning, I must revert to the bar at the\r\ngymkhana club which I have mentioned, and, before beginning my tale, I\r\nsuppose I had better introduce myself as I was when the story started,\r\nlate in 1920.\r\n\r\nMy name is Lake, and Harry Lake is what most people call me. My\r\nfather--God rest his soul--was the owner of a small place in Sussex,\r\nwhich he used to farm and shoot in the intervals of travelling, and\r\nwhich he expected me to take over when he died.\r\n\r\nBut farming--even with a certain backing of cash--did not appeal to me,\r\nand I drifted into the army. Then, much to the annoyance of my father,\r\nwho wanted me to soldier at home since I would go into the service,\r\nI transferred to an Indian regiment. Travel always appealed to me,\r\nespecially in the less well-known parts of the globe, and India seemed\r\na convenient kicking-off place. One got long leave, which the army at\r\nhome does not legislate for; and blessed with a little money, I was\r\nable to indulge my hobby to the full.\r\n\r\nCentral Asia became my playground, and, whenever I could get leave, I\r\nsped up to Kashmir and thence up one or other of the valleys into the\r\ngreat sleepy spaces that lie behind, the desiccated bone-dry spaces of\r\nLadakh, or among the snow-clad mountains that fringe the north of Lalla\r\nRookh\xe2\x80\x99s country.\r\n\r\nThen came the war, and, after frantic panics that I was going to be out\r\nof it all, tearful wires to pals at Simla, despairing appeals to every\r\ngeneral I had ever met, I found myself in France, and entered upon a\r\nseries of panics for fear I shouldn\xe2\x80\x99t get away again.\r\n\r\nAfter longer or shorter periods of mud, boredom, and fright, with a\r\nspell of hospital inserted, my regiment went on to that benighted back\r\nfront, East Africa, a spot for which I conceived the most intense\r\nloathing, and was glad to find myself back once more in India in late\r\n1917. A spell of d\xc3\xa9p\xc3\xb4t work, and off again to Palestine and later to\r\nCyprus, where, though life was uneventful, I amused myself brushing up\r\nthe Greek I had learnt travelling during the holidays with my father. I\r\nam pretty good at languages, and had kept up my Greek, so that by the\r\ntime I left Cyprus I spoke it as fluently as ever again.\r\n\r\nIn 1919 my father\xe2\x80\x99s death led me home to settle up the estate, and then\r\nout again, with the firm intention of leaving the army within the year.\r\n\r\nA bout of frontier scrapping in the 1920 Waziristan show was my last\r\neffort, and then I really made up my mind to go straight away. I was\r\nblessed with ample independent means--ample enough for me anyway; most\r\nof my regimental pals were dead, and so in 1920 I sent in my papers.\r\n\r\nI had shot most things to be found about Northern India, but had never\r\nsecured a tiger, and so made up my mind for a visit to the Central\r\nProvinces before going home. I wandered down to Karachi _en route_\r\nsouth to spend a few days there, and that\xe2\x80\x99s where this story really\r\nbegins.\r\n\r\nThe first night there I did what one always does in the East--I went\r\ndown to the club bar to pass the time of day with any old acquaintances\r\nthat might be there. I had known Karachi fair to middling well in the\r\nold pre-war days, and I thought I was pretty sure to find friends, but,\r\nas a matter of fact, the club was rather deserted.\r\n\r\nSo I lit a cheroot and sat down, feeling rather lonesome, as one does\r\nin a place where one has spent many cheery evenings with a crowd of\r\ngood fellows, most of whom have gone west. I was thinking about going\r\nacross to the Sind Club when a man entered the bar. I looked twice to\r\nmake quite sure, and then walked over to him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLong time since we shared a flask in the Jordan Valley, John,\xe2\x80\x9d said I,\r\ntapping him on the shoulder.\r\n\r\nHe spun round.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHulloa, Harry! D----d glad to see you, old bird! What on earth are you\r\ndoing here? I saw your push only last week, and they said you\xe2\x80\x99d chucked\r\nit and gone home. Family acres and all that sort of thing.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFirst part\xe2\x80\x99s true; for the rest, you see me here, large as life, very\r\nmuch at a loose end, and contemplating trying for a tiger in the C.P.\r\nbefore I go home. They tell me England hasn\xe2\x80\x99t quite recovered from the\r\nwar yet, and when it isn\xe2\x80\x99t coal-striking it\xe2\x80\x99s doing something equally\r\nunpleasant, so I thought I\xe2\x80\x99d give it a miss for a few months.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFunny thing running into you here; I was just writing to your home\r\naddress. I\xe2\x80\x99ve been up on a globe trot Kashgar way. I\xe2\x80\x99m demobbed now,\r\ntoo. Good thing to be one\xe2\x80\x99s own master once more.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBeing on his own was a thing that would appeal to John Wrexham,\r\nindependent by nature. An engineer by trade, swept up in the vortex\r\nof the war as an Indian Army reserve officer, I first met him in a\r\nparticularly offensive trench Givenchy way. I met him frequently\r\nafter that, always cheery, always busy, beloved of every battalion\r\ncommander, to whose needs he ministered in the capacity of subaltern of\r\na sapper-and-miner field company.\r\n\r\nA brave soul, too, John, of the most heroic, despite his inclination\r\nto stoutness. He amassed some very pretty ribbons before the war was\r\nout, and a reputation among those who knew him worth more than all the\r\nribbons in the world.\r\n\r\nLater I picked him up again in Palestine, commanding a field company\r\nthis time, in the most professional manner. I remember well our first\r\nencounter in Palestine, where I ran into him superintending a working\r\nparty under close fire. It was such a typical picture of John. Sucking\r\na pipe, methodical, cheerful, and utterly devoid of fear, his helmet\r\non one side of his rather bullet head, his shrewd grey eyes taking in\r\neverything, quick and caustic comments for those who weren\xe2\x80\x99t putting\r\ntheir backs into it, a woman\xe2\x80\x99s touch and a woman\xe2\x80\x99s kindly word for any\r\none who had \xe2\x80\x9ctaken it,\xe2\x80\x9d red knees over blue puttees, ruddy face with\r\nthe chin puckered over a long white gash picked up in an argument with\r\na Hun near Festubert--very much a man all over is John Wrexham.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat were you writing about, John? It\xe2\x80\x99s not like you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nJohn\xe2\x80\x99s inability to put pen to paper except under direct necessity was\r\nas well known as his practical efficiency at every point of his trade,\r\nor as his personal courage. In Palestine he was the despair of his\r\nC.R.E., a ponderous soul, and a lover of paper.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWanted to find out what you were doing. I\xe2\x80\x99ve got a stunt on, and I\r\nwant company. I\xe2\x80\x99ve got one fellow coming along, but I want another, and\r\nI thought you might be at a loose end. Come under the fan and I\xe2\x80\x99ll show\r\nyou something.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhen we had installed ourselves under the electric fan in two\r\narmchairs, he pulled out his pipe, filled it methodically, lit it, and\r\nthen proceeded. One never hurries John when he has something to say.\r\nIt\xe2\x80\x99s always worth waiting for.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDid you ever trek into Kashgar, Harry?\xe2\x80\x9d he asked at last.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, I never got as far as that. Why?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was up that way last year, and found one or two things rather\r\ninteresting.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat were you doing? I didn\xe2\x80\x99t know you were keen on Central Asia.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI am to a certain extent. I had a great-great-uncle who was a bit\r\nof a rolling stone. He wandered a bit in those parts, and he left a\r\ndiary, written rather like I write, but you could follow it in parts.\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99ll show it you later on. There\xe2\x80\x99s some quaint stuff in it. But it\r\ninterested me, and last year when I was demobbed after the Armistice, I\r\ntoddled up there to have a look-see. I was not keen on going back to\r\nmy old job in Bengal, and, as I\xe2\x80\x99d saved a bit of cash, I thought I\xe2\x80\x99d\r\ntake a holiday, which I hadn\xe2\x80\x99t really done since I left school. So I\r\ntrekked off to Kashgar and then east.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a worn pocketbook, and extracted\r\nsomething which he passed across.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEver see anything like this?\xe2\x80\x9d he queried.\r\n\r\nI examined the object closely. A silver coin, new-looking, but rough at\r\nthe edges. On one side was a mass of Greek lettering. On the obverse\r\nwas a man\xe2\x80\x99s head, rather clear-cut.\r\n\r\nI turned it over again. The names on the coin were unfamiliar, and the\r\nhead was unlike any coin I knew.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat country is it, John? It\xe2\x80\x99s Greek, though the lettering is quaint,\r\nbut whose is the head? It\xe2\x80\x99s not from Greece. Is it one of the funny\r\nlittle new States that the Peace Conference of the war to end war has\r\nstarted to ensure war going on?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham looked at me despondently.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou handle a pen quickly, Harry, but you\xe2\x80\x99re slow sometimes at\r\ndeductions. Yes, it\xe2\x80\x99s Greek; but it\xe2\x80\x99s a long time since any one wrote\r\nGreek quite like that, and I think that the country it came from never\r\nheard of the Great War of 1914-18.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAntique, is it?\xe2\x80\x9d I looked at it again. \xe2\x80\x9cIt looks fairly new-make. Is\r\nit a copy? Central Asia\xe2\x80\x99s full of old Greek relics, I know. Have they\r\nstarted an antique mint in Kashgar in the hope of a tourist boom after\r\nthe war? Where did you come by it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, it\xe2\x80\x99s a long story, but, if you\xe2\x80\x99re doing nothing to-night, come\r\nover to my hotel and dine and I\xe2\x80\x99ll tell you. By itself the coin isn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nmuch, but I\xe2\x80\x99ve got two other exhibits which fit in. What is it \xe2\x80\x98Sapper\xe2\x80\x99\r\nsays? \xe2\x80\x98Once is nothing, twice is coincidence, three times is a moral\r\ncertainty.\xe2\x80\x99 I think I\xe2\x80\x99ve got a moral cert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd not another word would he say on the matter then, shifting the\r\nconversation to France and Palestine, old scraps, old friends, all the\r\nmiscellany of memories that make up the wandering soldier\xe2\x80\x99s life.\r\n\r\nI slipped home and changed, and then to his hotel, where I found him\r\nawaiting me in the lounge with a tall, clean-shaven, fair-haired,\r\nblue-eyed man who seemed to carry a smack of the sea about him, though\r\nsomehow I did not set him down as a sailor.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99ve not met Forsyth, have you, Harry?\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cThis is Lake,\r\nAlec; you\xe2\x80\x99ve heard me speak of him often enough.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs we shook hands while Wrexham busied himself attracting a servant\r\nfor short drinks, I took stock of Forsyth. Taller than me by at least\r\nthree inches--and I stand five feet ten in my socks--and broad with it,\r\nhe looked the epitome of fitness. His skin was clear and smooth as a\r\ngirl\xe2\x80\x99s, yet tanned to a ruddy brick colour that spoke of days of open\r\nair, clean fresh winds, and hot sunshine.\r\n\r\nI couldn\xe2\x80\x99t quite place him, but somehow he conveyed an idea of big open\r\nspaces, and all the breadth of clean mental outlook that sometimes goes\r\ntherewith.\r\n\r\nWrexham handed us out sherries, and marshalled us into a cool corner.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThree wanderers well met, I think. Here\xe2\x80\x99s to us.\xe2\x80\x9d He turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cForsyth knows, perhaps, more Greek than you, Harry. He describes\r\nhimself as a doctor, and tags weird letters after his name. But his\r\nreal amusement in life is studying ethnology and anthropology and\r\nthings like that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve always been keen on ethnology, especially that of Eastern Europe,\r\nas a hobby; and after finishing my medical studies, I spent some months\r\npottering about Greece on my own. It\xe2\x80\x99s a fascinating mixture of people\r\ndown in the Balkan Peninsula to any one keen on studying different\r\nraces. Also, I was one of those freaks with a leaning to Greek, even at\r\nschool, before I came over to England.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOne of our Empire liaison links from Canada,\xe2\x80\x9d continued Wrexham,\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cex-R.N.A.S., sometimes amateur of ethnology, specially Greek; anything\r\nmore, Alec?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou forget the ex-R.A.F., which landed me in this country to renew\r\nthe threads of your acquaintanceship from Palestine days.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTrue, O king, a somewhat murky past. But now, like me, you\xe2\x80\x99ve cut\r\nadrift once more.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd here I am to listen to a cock-and-bull story of yours tied up with\r\nold or new coins and a ragged diary, with which baits you propose to\r\nlug me many hundred miles into the back of beyond, instead of going\r\nback and looking for a decent job to earn an honest living. You have a\r\npersuasive manner, John. I suppose Lake is another babe in your hands?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe will be, I hope, before we\xe2\x80\x99ve done with him. However, what about\r\nfood? Then we can go up to my quarters and get down to the real stuff.\r\nFinished your drinks?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe marshalled us into the dining-room, and once again the conversation\r\nslid west and north in the old grooves of war, till we finally\r\nadjourned to his room, and stretched ourselves on long chairs in the\r\nverandah. When his servant had deposited sodas, glasses, and whiskey\r\nand departed, Wrexham went to a metal despatch-case, and produced from\r\nit a small wooden box carefully tied up, which he placed mysteriously\r\non the table.\r\n\r\nThen, filling his ancient pipe, he spread himself in a long chair and\r\ncommenced.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFirst of all, I\xe2\x80\x99m going to tell you about my trip beyond Yarkand last\r\nyear. When you\xe2\x80\x99ve swallowed that, I\xe2\x80\x99ll show you a thing or two.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAfter my company left Palestine in January, \xe2\x80\x9919, and came back to\r\nIndia, I got myself demobbed and pondered what I should do. Home lacked\r\nattraction, I\xe2\x80\x99d been away so long. There was I with a certain amount of\r\ndibs, no calls, my own master, up in Pindi at the end of the Kashmir\r\nroad with the hot weather coming on, and all the earth in front of me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve always wanted to travel up that way, and this seemed the absolute\r\nchance. If I went home or back to my old job in Bengal, I might not get\r\nanother opportunity for years; my old firm in Bengal were good, but\r\nsticky in the matter of leave. So I packed my kit, dumped what I didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nwant, motored to Srinagar, and took the road for Yarkand.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI stuck to the main road practically all the way, steady, easy\r\nmarches. And as I went I read everything I could find on the country.\r\nMost of my kit was books, I think, but by the time I hit Yarkand I had\r\na working knowledge of Kashgaria at other people\xe2\x80\x99s expense.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI moved fairly light, but I lugged the books along and also a few\r\nsurvey instruments. You remember that in Palestine I used to play about\r\nwith survey toys.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI stopped a bit at Yarkand to study local conditions, and work up the\r\nsmattering of Turki that I\xe2\x80\x99d been assimilating on the road up with the\r\naid of a prehistoric textbook.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFrom there I pushed on to Aksu, and hence towards Hami, always keeping\r\nto the main road. There\xe2\x80\x99s nothing to talk about during that part of\r\nthe show. But when I got Hami-way, I put aside the printed books and\r\nrestudied my great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s diary.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe stopped and pulled meditatively at his pipe.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat was the great-great-uncle doing up there, John?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe was a bit of a rolling stone, rather like me, I fancy. He started\r\nwith a commission in the East India Company\xe2\x80\x99s army, got tired of it,\r\nwent north, and joined the Sikh army. Then he dropped that and took\r\nto wandering. Went up into Kashmir. Thence he conceived the idea of\r\nfollowing the old trade route into China. His library apparently\r\nconsisted of Marco Polo.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThree years later he turned up again in Ferozepur, where my\r\ngreat-grandfather, his brother, was commanding a regiment, and\r\nannounced his intention of fitting out and going off again to Central\r\nAsia. But before he could start again he went out with cholera.\r\nHowever, before he died he gave my great-grandfather a diary and a\r\nbundle of old papers, and said that, if ever any other member of the\r\nfamily got the wanderlust, the papers were to be given to him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy great-grandfather, who was married, had no particular desire to\r\ntravel, and, I fancy, after reading through the stuff, he locked it\r\nup and dismissed the whole lot as a traveller\xe2\x80\x99s yarn, due to overmuch\r\nMarco Polo combined with fever.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy grandfather and my father were stay-at-homes, and I\xe2\x80\x99m the first of\r\nthe family to come back here. I brought with me the old papers and the\r\ndiary that was with them more as idle curiosities--happened to notice\r\nthem when I was on leave before coming back from France to Mespot in\r\n1916.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHaving nothing much to do, I read them through on board ship, and\r\nafter that I read them fairly often, until I know bits, I think, by\r\nheart.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA lot of them are mere scrappy notes about his journeys, rough\r\ndrawings of places and types, and it\xe2\x80\x99s only after he struck east from\r\nUrumchi that the real interest comes into the diary. Pass me over that\r\nbox, will you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth reached the box across to Wrexham, who undid it, and took out a\r\nsmall shabby leather-covered notebook.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m going to read you something,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, \xe2\x80\x9cthat will tell you why I\r\nwent north. As I said before, once is nothing, twice is a coincidence,\r\nthree times is a moral cert. This is the \xe2\x80\x98once\xe2\x80\x99; part of the \xe2\x80\x98twice\xe2\x80\x99\r\nyou\xe2\x80\x99ve both seen in the shape of that coin; the \xe2\x80\x98three times\xe2\x80\x99 I\xe2\x80\x99ve got\r\nhere, and will show you presently.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe put the box on the table by him, opened the notebook--stained\r\nyellowish paper and crabbed writing in faded brown ink--and began to\r\nread aloud.\r\n\r\nHe read for a quarter of an hour, and at the end of that time both\r\nForsyth and I had let our pipes go out, and were hanging on his words.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II\r\n\r\nOLD JOHN WREXHAM\xe2\x80\x99S DIARY\r\n\r\n\r\n _20th Jany. 1822_\r\n\r\n I wonder if any one who read these lines would ever believe that I,\r\n John Wrexham, am writing naught but the sober truth. When I think\r\n over the events of the last month, it seems to me as if it were all a\r\n wild dream fantasy. And yet....\r\n\r\n Islam Akhun\xe2\x80\x99s story of a king and his army engulfed in the sands\r\n and of the buried cities set me wandering, and lo! the city seems\r\n to be there after all these hundreds of years, and I, John Wrexham,\r\n am the first to have seen its gates. Or, stay, after what I saw in\r\n the valley, perhaps it were more true to say the first living man,\r\n for others less fortunate than myself would seem to have reached the\r\n entrance to the Gates, to find them only the Gates of Death.\r\n\r\n But I must stop me musing, and set down the bare happenings ere my\r\n memory plays me tricks and fever come on anew.\r\n\r\n It was the 2d December that I conceived my ill-fated trip, at least\r\n it was ill-fated for Islam and Arslan Bai. Was it ill-fated for me?\r\n Time alone can tell.\r\n\r\n Northeast they pointed over the wastes of sand, and said that many\r\n days out into the desert lay a buried city, rich with treasures,\r\n in whose streets you might walk as though men left them yestereve,\r\n and gather up riches if you could but escape from the wiles of the\r\n spirits that guarded them, spirits that called you by name and bade\r\n you stay.\r\n\r\n No; they had never seen it, but in their grandfather\xe2\x80\x99s father\xe2\x80\x99s time,\r\n one man, a treasure-seeker, one of the idle ne\xe2\x80\x99er-do-wells that haunt\r\n the villages fringing the waste sands, had gone out with other two\r\n into the deserts in search of treasure, hoping perchance to gather in\r\n a few days wealth beyond the wildest dreams.\r\n\r\n Many days later he returned, a ragged skeleton, gaunt eyes and\r\n blackened lips, nigh dead with thirst and fever. He died that night,\r\n and ere he died, close to the road where the story-tellers found him,\r\n he babbled a little of a gate, of armed men, of death.\r\n\r\n None ever followed his quest: there are too many tales of hidden\r\n cities and treasures all up and down this sunburnt land, and men\r\n still fear the trackless deserts, as they did when Messer Marco Polo\r\n traversed the desert of Lop, \xe2\x80\x98so great that \xe2\x80\x99tis said it would take\r\n a year and more to ride from one end of it to the other....\xe2\x80\x99 And\r\n still talk they of the spirits that Polo mentions in his travels,\r\n which beguile men from their caravans and leave them to perish in the\r\n sands, so that \xe2\x80\x98in making this journey \xe2\x80\x99tis customary for travellers\r\n to keep close together.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n What was it that stirred my mind, so that all night long, when men\r\n and beasts lay sleeping, I sat wrapt in my furs in the cold wind\r\n gazing out to the northeast pondering? Was it chance? Was it fate?\r\n I know not, nor shall ever know, perhaps. But, ere the false dawn\xe2\x80\x99s\r\n faint light pearled the sky above me, I had made up my mind that,\r\n come what might, I, too, would face the desert and see whether it\r\n would reveal its secrets, or remain inscrutably mocking to the end.\r\n\r\n Perchance my men thought I had been maddened by these same spirits\r\n when, next day, instead of continuing our road, I said I had changed\r\n my mind and wished to voyage northeast into the desert.\r\n\r\n At first they refused to come, but finally, after much persuasion,\r\n they agreed on my promise that when half our water was used we would\r\n retrace our steps if naught had been found. The reward I spoke of,\r\n the chance of hidden wealth, and the guarantee of return ere our\r\n water failed, just outweighed their fears of the unknown desert of\r\n death, and of the spirits of evil that roamed in it.\r\n\r\n Even then only Islam and Arslan would accompany me. But, indeed, I\r\n preferred a small party, since it was the less water to take. The\r\n others of our party and some of my gear we left to await our return.\r\n Not till the 11th December did we set forth--three men and three\r\n camels, one laden with food and gear, and two with skins of water.\r\n\r\n Our way at first was easy, over sand-dunes of no immense height,\r\n though growing as we went, and we covered sixty miles in the first\r\n four days. Nothing to see but sand, sand, sand, trackless and rippled\r\n as the wild ocean\xe2\x80\x99s wave. Since I possessed neither map nor guide,\r\n I marched by compass, as might a sailor in an uncharted sea. Due\r\n northeast from our starting-point was the direction I chose. The old\r\n Chinese road lay southeast, and the men spoke of a track that led\r\n northward, so that our route midway between the two should bring us\r\n into the desert\xe2\x80\x99s heart.\r\n\r\n It was on the evening of the fourth day that, far off on the\r\n northeast horizon I remarked what seemed like some faint cloud\r\n hanging in the sky. After looking at it through my glass, I pointed\r\n it out to Islam, saying, \xe2\x80\x9cSnow,\xe2\x80\x9d but he insisted it was but cloud.\r\n\r\n But next evening again we beheld it, the same form, the same\r\n direction, and not a cloud beside in all the brazen sky.\r\n\r\n Far mountain beyond a doubt. If there were no hidden cities, there\r\n were at least strange hills, and snow hills must mean water. Even\r\n Islam agreed now, though I saw he would liefer have found his city of\r\n gold than all the snow hills of wild Asia.\r\n\r\n We pressed on, and on the evening of the sixth day, as the sun was\r\n sinking to his rest, perceived what I had sought all day in vain, the\r\n faint lilac haze below the white that I have noted marks always the\r\n lower hills below high snow.\r\n\r\n The dunes were now greatly higher and more formidable, curved\r\n half-moons of sand, most wearisome to the legs, and the camels showed\r\n their distress from lack of water, since our scanty stock permitted\r\n but a mouthful for the beasts.\r\n\r\n On the eighth day the snow-peak gleamed more clearly, and in the\r\n light of evening the low hills showed sharp and clear maybe a bare\r\n thirty miles away.\r\n\r\n Never a sign of water so far, and I thanked Providence greatly that\r\n we had made sixteen days\xe2\x80\x99 provision, though by now I felt assured\r\n that we should discover some at the foot of the hills. The next three\r\n days to the hills were in great measure easier, the dunes were daily\r\n lower, but we had perforce to give part of our water to the camels.\r\n\r\n On the evening of the eleventh day we reached the foot of the hills,\r\n and then, alas! the foreboding that all day had clung to me was\r\n realized. The wall of hills was, indeed, a wall, almost sheer scarped\r\n cliff like the sides of an old Indian hill-fort, and many hundred\r\n feet high, with naught at foot but a short slope of tumbled rock\r\n half-buried in sand.\r\n\r\n That night we camped below the gloomy cliffs, and I held that our\r\n earliest preoccupation in the morning must be to seek water along\r\n the foot. Surely somewhere the melting snow must find its way down,\r\n unless it drained to the northward.\r\n\r\n Next morning we travelled twelve or thirteen miles, always under\r\n sheer scarped cliff, never a drop of water, never a sign of slope\r\n that we might climb. We moved eastward, since from far off it had\r\n seemed to me that the cliffs were lower that way. We had now but four\r\n days\xe2\x80\x99 scanty water left, and the heat of the desert, even at this\r\n cold season, was causing some loss by sweating through the skins in\r\n which we carried it.\r\n\r\n Islam prayed me to start back forthwith making forced marches, but\r\n I was sure that water was to be found. Arslan, moreover, said that\r\n unless the camels could be fully watered they would die in the\r\n desert, and with them we also should perish, leaving our bones to\r\n whiten in the wastes of sand.\r\n\r\n So next day again we started early, and all day travelled below the\r\n unfriendly cliffs, but never finding water, until late in the evening\r\n the camels, which till now had been barely able to drag their lank\r\n limbs along, quickened their dragging pace; and presently Islam, who\r\n was on ahead, called out loudly to me.\r\n\r\n I hastened on to where he stood on a high rock, and saw before me a\r\n narrow valley opening into the cliff, and in the bed of the valley a\r\n little stream of clear water, and men and beasts drank their fill.\r\n\r\n The cleft at whose dark mouth we stood was narrow, a bare twenty\r\n paces wide, and with the same scarped sides of incredible height. It\r\n wound away into the cliff, already partly hidden in the evening dusk,\r\n though where we stood was yet lit with the sun\xe2\x80\x99s last rays.\r\n\r\n Reassured now by our find of water, we settled us down for the night,\r\n and in the morning refilled all water-skins. The dawn light showed\r\n a few stunted bushes and a dwarf tree or two, but no sign of human\r\n beings.\r\n\r\n Leaving Arslan to tend the beasts, which found some scant grazing in\r\n the valley entrance, and taking Islam with me, I set about exploring\r\n the cleft. It got more and more narrow and darker and darker, until,\r\n after some three miles, we could touch the sides of smooth rock with\r\n our outstretched hands, but never, never a place that a man might\r\n climb. The cold was intense in this dark confined slit that knew the\r\n warm sun but for a brief space each day.\r\n\r\n Then, rounding a sudden corner, came we to the end. The narrow valley\r\n opened upon a circus perhaps two hundred paces in diameter, sheer\r\n cliffs around it. But oh! the wonder of that evil place.\r\n\r\n The valley closed again, and there before us, carved at the foot of\r\n the towering rock, was a gateway of old fashion with an inscription\r\n and a design of serpents upon it.\r\n\r\n But even more strange was the ground at our feet. For it was covered\r\n with bones of men.\r\n\r\n The bones were clean and white, and maybe old. But as we stood there\r\n concealed in the narrow cleft, there was a rush above us and a great\r\n white-necked vulture swept out from the cliff above, and then another\r\n and then another, circling down and down on their wide outstretched\r\n pinions.\r\n\r\n We drew farther back into the shelter of the rock, thinking,\r\n perchance, they were spying us after the fashion these birds have in\r\n desert places where life is scarce, waiting on life for death to come.\r\n\r\n But no, instead they fluttered down on the farther side, and gathered\r\n in ill-omened circle about something. Islam plucked my sleeve. \xe2\x80\x9cCome\r\n away, quick! Come away! \xe2\x80\x99Tis a place of ill-omen; these be spirits\r\n more like than birds.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n But my curiosity was awakened, and, shaking him off, I advanced. As\r\n I got close the vultures flapped heavily away, and I saw what their\r\n foul wings had hidden. It was a man\xe2\x80\x99s body, of recent date, with no\r\n signs of death\xe2\x80\x99s grim decay, and the birds had not yet had time to\r\n disfigure it, so that I could see clearly what manner of man he was.\r\n A young man but--_white_--as white as I am. And of the manner of his\r\n death there was no doubt, for driven through his throat was an arrow,\r\n and below him on the ground was a pool of blood which had not yet\r\n dried, for when I tried to move him to see his hands it showed wet\r\n still.\r\n\r\n I say his hands, for he lay stretched face upwards, but with his arms\r\n twisted under him, and then I perceived that his hands were bound\r\n behind him.\r\n\r\n There were no clothes to show what class of person he had been;\r\n whoever had slain him had stripped off all he had.\r\n\r\n I considered him with care. Features clear-cut like a statue of\r\n old time, with short dark-brown curls. Then I noticed the arrow.\r\n Black-shafted and steel-barbed, with white marks upon the shaft.\r\n Writing surely in some strange tongue.\r\n\r\n Islam by now had recovered a little of his courage and came over, but\r\n just as he reached me a sudden sound above us caused us to fly in\r\n unreasoning panic to the cleft whence we had emerged. It was but one\r\n of the heavy flying vultures, but it was some time ere we breathed\r\n easily again.\r\n\r\n I stared out once more over the evil-smelling place of stone and sand\r\n and bone, dazzling white in the sun between the walls of black rock.\r\n Over against us the gateway loomed sinister and silent. The great\r\n stone portals were closed, nor were there windows, save on either\r\n side some arrow-slits as of an archer\xe2\x80\x99s gallery cut in the rock.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cLet us go,\xe2\x80\x9d said Islam, \xe2\x80\x9cbefore we also are slain. Whoever killed\r\n that yonder must be within the gates.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n But curiosity was stronger in me at that moment than fear.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cStay you here, Islam,\xe2\x80\x9d I said, \xe2\x80\x9cand if aught moves at the gate be\r\n ready to shoot.\xe2\x80\x9d He was fumbling with his old matchlock.\r\n\r\n Then, despite his appeals, I returned to the body with eyes fixed on\r\n the arrow-slits, ready to flee at sight or sound. But nothing moved\r\n nor stirred.\r\n\r\n I studied the arrow again, and then tried to pull it out. It was of\r\n unfamiliar type, and might give the key to much. But I could not draw\r\n it forth, and so was forced to put my knee upon the dead man\xe2\x80\x99s chest,\r\n when presently, with some exertion of strength, I pulled it through.\r\n It had been shot from behind, and, entering to one side of the spine,\r\n stood out a foot and more beyond the throat.\r\n\r\n As I stood holding it in my hand there was a crash like thunder, and\r\n I leapt across the open space like a deer to the cloud of smoke where\r\n Islam crouched behind a rock holding his smoking piece.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cSomething moved in that slit,\xe2\x80\x9d he gasped, and turned to flee.\r\n\r\n Discretion seemed the better part of valour, and I followed him down\r\n the narrow waterway, splashing through the little pools, leaping from\r\n stone to stone.\r\n\r\n But still I wonder whether he truly saw anything, or if his fancies\r\n overcame him.\r\n\r\n By the entrance we found Arslan, who had heard not the shot,\r\n peacefully preparing food by the camels.\r\n\r\n Islam contrived to scare him into the same unreasoning frame of mind\r\n as himself. Although I desired much to remain, there was no staying\r\n them, nor could I continue there by myself. Also, there was some\r\n reason, doubtless, in their arguments, three men against a savage\r\n tribe; \xe2\x80\x99twas poor odds in our favour. Speedily we roped up our\r\n gear and once more set out across the desert, as I judged, in the\r\n direction whence we had come.\r\n\r\n Ploughing through the sand, I pondered over the events of the\r\n morning, but nothing could I understand. Of one thing alone I was\r\n assured, that the dead man was of some people I had never met in\r\n Asia. There are fair-skinned people a many there, but none to compare\r\n with him I had seen. Could he, perchance, have been a European? But\r\n had such a one been in the country, I must surely have heard of him.\r\n Save for myself, no European had been known up there.\r\n\r\n When we halted that night, I studied the lettered arrow again, for\r\n the lettering seemed familiar. Finally, I recognized the unfamiliar\r\n script--the letters were Greek. My studies had long since fled, but\r\n there was no mistaking some of the letters, for not knowing the which\r\n my father had ofttimes caned me. I was clear bewildered by now. What\r\n folk could these be in the heart of the great desert with arrows\r\n lettered in Greek?\r\n\r\n As I write, the arrow is by me, sole token of my journey, sole\r\n witness of my tale.\r\n\r\n The men were very silent that night, and their one thought seemed to\r\n be to put as many miles of sand as possible between themselves and\r\n the ill-omened cliff that faded behind us against the darkling sky.\r\n\r\n Next day we started at dawn, and, as the light grew, I noticed that\r\n here and there among the sand-dunes were rock outcrops, which we had\r\n not seen coming. But the little stream had disappeared in the thirsty\r\n sand when we had gone a dozen miles, and once again there was no\r\n water save what the camels carried.\r\n\r\n It was on the second evening that misfortune showed her ugly head.\r\n Arslan was troubled concerning one of the camels which paced very\r\n slowly. That night it refused the oil and the handful of grain we\r\n gave it, and laid its head on the sand, as these beasts do when they\r\n are sick.\r\n\r\n The next morning it could scarcely walk, and ere evening it died.\r\n Here was, indeed, a serious loss, since we must part with either our\r\n gear or much of our water.\r\n\r\n However, we reckoned that we had a sufficiency of water. The skins\r\n had been refilled ere we left the hills, and we had been but twelve\r\n days coming, while we had still thirteen days\xe2\x80\x99 supply. Even though\r\n our present route were somewhat longer, we should reach the main road\r\n in another ten days, eleven at most.\r\n\r\n So, next morning, abandoning the dead camel and its load, we started\r\n on again. The wind, which had hitherto been little, freshened, and\r\n ere midday we were in the midst of a blinding sandstorm, and, though\r\n it cleared by evening, we covered but a few miles.\r\n\r\n That day the second camel sickened, and within two days was dead.\r\n Thus were we forced to abandon the most of our gear. With naught save\r\n the scantiest food for ourselves and some powder and ball, we could\r\n just load enough water for seven days on the camel. By the evening of\r\n the seventh day we should surely reach the old Chinese road.\r\n\r\n But once more sandstorms delayed us. Then two days later our last\r\n camel sickened. We dragged it along all next day, but it died that\r\n evening.\r\n\r\n I calculated that we were now not much more than forty miles from the\r\n road. There was nothing for it but to take as much water as each man\r\n could carry in a goatskin, with a scanty ration of food, abandon our\r\n gear, and plod on.\r\n\r\n Whether it was that something had affected my compass, or whether in\r\n the sandstorms my computation of distance was inaccurate, I cannot\r\n say, but after traversing another thirty miles there was but a cupful\r\n of water left, and nothing in front but sand-dunes--high ones--a bad\r\n sign, since toward the desert\xe2\x80\x99s edge they grow lower.\r\n\r\n The rest of the journey was a nightmare that I cannot write. Arlsan\r\n went mad and refused to move, so that we had perforce to leave him\r\n while we struggled on seeking water and help. Two days later Islam\r\n collapsed, and I pushed on alone, and at dawn found myself among\r\n trees and fainted. When I came to, I found a wandering shepherd\r\n pouring water on my face.\r\n\r\n When I was somewhat recovered, I had vast difficulty in getting him\r\n and his friends to come with me to search for Islam, but at last the\r\n sight of my money persuaded them. Following my tracks (by great good\r\n fortune the wind had dropped), we found Islam still breathing, but\r\n unconscious. Whether he was already weakly I cannot say, or whether\r\n the prolonged strain had been too much for him I know not, but he\r\n never recovered consciousness, and died that night. I could not\r\n induce them to go any farther, nor, indeed, was there any possibility\r\n of finding Arslan alive.\r\n\r\n I made my way back westward, and found that I had reached the road\r\n seventy miles from where we had set out, which accounted for the\r\n extra length of our journey. I picked up my other men and the rest of\r\n my gear. Since Islam and Arslan were dead, I said naught to any man\r\n of our adventures beyond our failure to discover any ruined city, and\r\n our terrible journey back.\r\n\r\n Some day I hope to go back and find out the secret of those unknown\r\n hills, but for the moment I feel drawn once more to look upon my kith\r\n and kin, and I shall make my way back to India and refit.\r\n\r\nWrexham closed the ragged diary and looked up. \xe2\x80\x9cWell,\xe2\x80\x9d he said in his\r\ndeliberate way, \xe2\x80\x9cand that is what I call the \xe2\x80\x98once,\xe2\x80\x99 which is nothing.\r\nWhen I\xe2\x80\x99ve had a drink, I\xe2\x80\x99ll tell you about \xe2\x80\x98twice,\xe2\x80\x99 which, according\r\nto the expert, is merely coincidence. Man\xc5\x93uvre the whiskey, will you,\r\nAlec?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth got up and opened the bottle and some sodas.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYour old great-great-uncle either ought to have been a journalist, or\r\nelse he found something d----d quaint. Have you got the arrow at home?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. I suppose it was stolen from his kit. He evidently had it with him\r\nall right, unless, as my great-grandfather seemed to think, he invented\r\nthe whole yarn under the influence of fever.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI filled my glass. \xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s the queerest tale I\xe2\x80\x99ve heard for years. Of\r\ncourse, all deserts are full of fables, and I remember reading of the\r\none your great-great-uncle mentions of the king and his army who were\r\nburied in the sand.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham sipped his drink. \xe2\x80\x9cWell, now, I\xe2\x80\x99ll get on with the second part,\r\nwhich is where I come in.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER III\r\n\r\nWREXHAM\xe2\x80\x99S STORY\r\n\r\n\r\nWe relit our pipes and settled back in our chairs, and Wrexham began:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs I told you, when I got near Hami last year, I pulled out the old\r\ndiary and read it again, especially the part I\xe2\x80\x99ve just read to you two\r\nfellows.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI won\xe2\x80\x99t go into details of how I found the tiny village, which,\r\nfrom certain entries in the diary, I am sure must have been my\r\ngreat-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s starting-point. I found the place, and there I\r\ndecided to stop a bit. I can\xe2\x80\x99t tell you why I should want to stop in a\r\ntiny little hole like that with nothing to see, not even any old ruins\r\nin the neighbourhood; but somehow my old relative\xe2\x80\x99s story had taken\r\nhold of me, and I wanted to reconstruct it on the spot.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou know how traditions linger in the East, more especially in those\r\nparts of it that are as yet untouched by the railway. Well, I made a\r\nfew discreet questions, and sure enough there was a yarn of a white\r\nman who years before had gone out into the desert seeking old cities,\r\nand had come to grief owing to losing his way. The story was not too\r\ncoherent, needless to say: sometimes he found a ruined city, sometimes\r\nhe and all his people had died, and one particular version went on to\r\nthe effect that he had found much gold, and got safely back, but was\r\ncarried away by the spirits who watched over the treasure, and who were\r\nvery wroth at its having been touched. It was a lot of trouble to get\r\nout the story--you know how difficult it is to get ignorant people like\r\nthat to talk to strangers.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut it was clear enough that some wandering white man had been there\r\nages before, and, further, the local people seemed pretty afraid of\r\nwandering into the desert. I did not let on about the old man having\r\nhad anything to do with me. It\xe2\x80\x99s not a good thing to talk about bad\r\nluck being in the family, and certainly the old man did not hit it\r\nlucky that trip.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI hung about prospecting and smelling out the ground, which, by\r\nthe way, is very little known directly you get off the main route.\r\nNortheast you come slap on to the desert practically at once.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe maps of it are quite useless, compiled from hearsay of wandering\r\nIndian or Chinese merchants, I think. I had the most up-to-date ones I\r\ncould get from the Survey of India. Got hold of old Jones, who was our\r\nmapping expert in Palestine; you remember him, Harry.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe sent me the best he had before I went off, but he wrote to the\r\neffect that I would be wise not to rely too much on anything north of\r\nthe Hami-Urumchi road, barring the triangulated peaks.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf you look at that atlas on the table there you will see that there\r\nis a big stretch of nothingness northeast of Kashgaria labelled Gobi\r\nDesert. It _is_ part of the Gobi. For over three hundred miles in every\r\ndirection it\xe2\x80\x99s got not a single name on it, not even a track. Northward\r\nthere are two lakes shown with fifty miles of river leading nowhere;\r\nand, although I\xe2\x80\x99ve not been there, I\xe2\x80\x99m prepared to make a modest bet\r\nthat they\xe2\x80\x99re not within one hundred miles of their proper location,\r\neven if they do exist. North again of that is Chinese Mongolia, almost\r\nunknown even now, and very vaguely mapped.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo that between known Kashgaria and Mongolia there\xe2\x80\x99s a piece of\r\ncountry much bigger than England, almost unmapped, without even a known\r\nroad in it. The southern edges of it are known to be desert; of the\r\nrest we know just nothing. And the northern side may be--as shown--some\r\nthree hundred miles from the southern, or, on the other hand, it\xe2\x80\x99s just\r\nas likely to be five hundred or six hundred miles away.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou could hide a country almost as big as Wales in it and never\r\nknow of its existence, even if it were full of high snow mountains.\r\nSo you see, although my old namesake\xe2\x80\x99s story may be the result of a\r\nfever-stricken imagination, it\xe2\x80\x99s no ways impossible.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, somehow, that country drew me more and more, but I saw that to\r\ntry and explore it would require a good deal of preparation, and I had\r\nno idea of taking it on by myself if I could get another fellow or two\r\nto come along. So I decided to come back to India, and see if I could\r\nget hold of some one with globe-trotting tastes. I had you two in my\r\nmind\xe2\x80\x99s eye, and then I found Forsyth, and later on heard that you\xe2\x80\x99d\r\ngone home, Harry.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI stayed on up there a while just to get a bit more local knowledge,\r\nand the last week I came across that coin, and the finding of that is\r\nwhat I call \xe2\x80\x98twice\xe2\x80\x99 in my deduction series.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSome miles from the village there\xe2\x80\x99s a bit of a rise where the\r\nsand-dunes on the desert\xe2\x80\x99s edge are rather big. One in particular is\r\nnoticeably high: it\xe2\x80\x99s by a deserted building of sorts, quite a modern\r\noutfit, been abandoned perhaps twenty or fifty, at most a hundred,\r\nyears. It bears northeast, and must be more or less the direction my\r\ngreat-great-uncle started from. I took rather a fancy to the place, and\r\nrode out there two or three times to study the country. A few extra\r\nfeet elevation make a lot of difference in the desert.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy men were accustomed to my going out there, and as a rule I took one\r\nor other to hold my horse while I did a bit of map-work, to try and get\r\nsomething more or less accurate.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOne particular day, the air being very clear--we\xe2\x80\x99d had rain twice in\r\nthe week, an uncommon phenomenon at that time of year--I thought I\xe2\x80\x99d go\r\nand make a final visit to have a last check of the map.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI rode out by myself that day on my old Kara Tagh mare. She was very\r\nquiet, and if you knee-haltered her loosely would stay for hours\r\nwithout trying to stray. I climbed up the high dune, and sat looking\r\nout over the desert, thinking about my old relative\xe2\x80\x99s tragic journey.\r\nIt was warm in the sun, and I had not slept well the previous\r\nnight--an uncommon thing for me, as you know.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI have seen Wrexham sleep quietly in the most noisy, disturbing places,\r\nwhen circumstances prevented him doing any work, and he had a little\r\nsleep to make up, or thought a reserve would be handy the next night or\r\ntwo. He is a most extraordinarily imperturbable person.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt may be that I dozed for a few minutes and probably dreamt a bit.\r\nYou see, I\xe2\x80\x99d been reading my old great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s diary during\r\nthe night when I couldn\xe2\x80\x99t sleep. But I seemed awake all right. Well,\r\npresently a most extraordinary feeling came over me, of some one trying\r\nto attract my attention, some one very anxious that I should hear him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI really can\xe2\x80\x99t explain what it was, but it got stronger and stronger.\r\nIt was as though some one out in the desert was calling and calling to\r\nme, although, mind you, there was no sound.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI sat staring out over the dazzling sand, and then, despite the\r\npeculiar sensation, I suppose I really did sleep, for the next thing\r\nthat happened was that I _saw_ a man in the desert, plodding through\r\nthe sand. How far he was from me I could not say, but the impression\r\nwas exactly the one you get looking at a fellow through a very\r\nhigh-power telescope. You can see him apparently only a few feet away,\r\nand yet you _know_--although you can make out the buttons on his coat\r\nand almost see the colour of his eyes--that he\xe2\x80\x99s really quite a long\r\nway off.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou remember that Hun sniper you showed me through a signal telescope\r\none day in France, Harry: seemed as if he was six feet away instead of\r\nnearly a hundred yards? Well, that was the impression.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis fellow was plodding drearily through the sand, dragging his feet\r\nas though dead beat. His face was grey and haggard, and his lips black\r\nand swollen, and his eyes all red. I didn\xe2\x80\x99t see his clothes clearly\r\nat all, and have no recollection of what they were like, although, I\r\nremember the absolutely done-in appearance of his whole figure.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs I watched him staggering on, he fell, and lay still a minute. Then\r\nhe pulled himself up on one arm--he gave me the impression, by the\r\nway, of having only one arm--and looked my way, and his lips seemed to\r\nbe working. Then again I got that inexplicable sensation of some one\r\ntrying to make me hear over great spaces.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI suppose I woke up then, for suddenly the man disappeared, and there\r\nwas only the bare empty desert before me once more. But stronger than\r\never was the sensation of some one far off calling and calling in a\r\nsilent voice.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, I sat there a bit, and sometimes the feeling was stronger and\r\nsometimes fainter, but always there, rather like when you\xe2\x80\x99re listening\r\nto a distant sound across a valley, and sometimes the wind almost\r\nsweeps it away, and then suddenly there it is again clear and sharp.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, eventually I went back to camp.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m not a fanciful bloke, and I don\xe2\x80\x99t believe in spooks or all\r\nthis spiritualistic tosh, most of which is faked. But I am ready to\r\nadmit that there are lots of things we don\xe2\x80\x99t understand, things like\r\ntelepathy and so on; and do what I could, I could not get rid of the\r\nfeeling that some one was calling to me out in the desert.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAlthough I tried to put it down to the aftermath of a vivid dream, I\r\ncould not rid myself of it; and further, something seemed to keep on\r\nreminding me that I hadn\xe2\x80\x99t really been to sleep, and the reasonable\r\npart of me that insisted on the dream theory couldn\xe2\x80\x99t say that I had\r\neither.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEventually I decided that I would do something--for me--quite mad. I\r\nwould push out a little into the desert. I had _chagals_[1] and things\r\nto take enough water for myself and a couple of men for four days, and\r\nthe camels could do without any for that time. That meant about thirty\r\nmiles out and back.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo I told Sadiq, my head camel fellow, and another man that I wanted\r\nto look at the desert a bit, and left old Firoz--you remember him in my\r\ncompany in France: he\xe2\x80\x99s with me now as sort of orderly since he left\r\nthe army--to look after the camp.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe went out two days in the direction I figured out that my old\r\nrelative must have taken.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy the way, the most extraordinary thing was that the moment I gave my\r\norders to Sadiq, the feeling of some one wanting me suddenly vanished.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe found nothing either day, absolute dead desert. The third morning,\r\nwhile the men were roping up things for our return, the feeling\r\nsuddenly came on again. Only this time, for some unaccountable reason,\r\nit seemed as if the thing or person were close at hand. It worried me\r\na lot. I couldn\xe2\x80\x99t go on, of course; we had only enough water to see us\r\nback.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere was a particularly high dune about six hundred or seven hundred\r\nyards from the camp, and finally I said to myself that I\xe2\x80\x99d go up and\r\nhave a last look from the top with my glasses. I told the men to finish\r\nloading up and then wait for me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe feeling was very strong as I trudged over the sand, and then, just\r\nas I got to the top, it absolutely disappeared again. It never came\r\nback either.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut as I looked down from the top I knew why the feeling had left me.\r\nThere, in the dip of the sand below me on the far side, lay a man,\r\ncurled up as though asleep. I knew then that I had not been asleep that\r\nfirst day.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI ran down the dune to his side hoping that he was only asleep, though\r\nsomehow at heart I doubted it. Then, as I bent over him, I knew he was\r\nnot sleeping, or rather that he had gone to sleep for good and all.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere was nothing much in that; one had seen plenty of dead men\r\nbefore. Besides, it was the \xe2\x80\x99flu-time still in those parts, and I had\r\npicked up people dying or dead along the roadside more than once. But\r\nthe point was that this was not the roadside, and it puzzled me as to\r\nwhat the man could have been doing in this out-of-the-way corner miles\r\nand miles away from any road, even what Central Asia calls a road.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI examined him closely, and then I sat down and thought quick and\r\nhard. Remember that at that time I had been reading the old diary\r\nrather a lot, and this man was a shock to me apart from the way I had\r\nlocated him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe was gaunt and haggard, and by the look of him had suffered from\r\nhunger and thirst before he pegged out; in fact, I rather thought he\r\nhad died of thirst.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut that was nothing much; it was first his colour, for as I lifted\r\nhis arm the loose sleeve slipped back, and the arm was nearly as white\r\nas mine. I don\xe2\x80\x99t think he can have been dead more than a couple of days\r\nat most. And his type of features was quite unlike the average man in\r\nthose parts, far too straight and regular. However, fair-skinned people\r\nare common enough in North Asia, though not as a rule quite as fair as\r\nthis man.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut the next thing I noted was that his wrists were all chafed, as\r\nthough his hands had been bound recently. Remember I had been reading\r\nthat diary. I looked at them very carefully for fear I might be\r\nimagining things, and the marks were more noticeable on the other arm\r\nthan on the one I first touched.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI pulled his clothes open to see if there were any marks or papers,\r\nand then I got the shock of my life. Around the shoulder was a\r\nblood-clotted bandage that had slipped to one side, and below it showed\r\nan open wound in the muscles just below the joint. There was a similar\r\nwound at the back.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was the sort of wound a sharp shell-splinter makes, or, if you\r\nlike, the sort of wound that would be made by a steel-shod arrow that\r\nhad passed right through the top of the arm, and then perhaps been\r\npulled through or broken off.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham paused and refilled his pipe. I think he was waiting for us\r\nto say something, but we both were silent. I\xe2\x80\x99ve known Wrexham pretty\r\nintimately for some years, and he does not invent things, nor does it\r\nintrigue him to pull people\xe2\x80\x99s legs with fairy stories. He is, moreover,\r\na most matter-of-fact person, rather sceptical as a rule, and not\r\ninclined to believe anything that he cannot see himself. His reports\r\nin the field, albeit painfully written and laboriously compiled, used\r\nto be masterpieces of accurate information.\r\n\r\nSeeing neither of us ventured any remark, he went on:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I started hunting through his kit. His clothes were rather\r\nunfamiliar in type: there was a short skin outer garment, much like\r\nthe _poshtin_[2] common to most of the cold parts of Asia, though the\r\nembroidery on it was of unfamiliar pattern. Under that he wore a sort\r\nof short pleated smock of very fine cloth though worn, a fawn-coloured\r\nlinen it seemed to be; and around the throat, and at the skirt edges,\r\nit was embroidered, again in the same unfamiliar pattern in green.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe had long drawers of the same material as the smock, gartered in\r\nbelow the knees with thin strips of fineish green leather, and on his\r\nfeet twisted leather sandals of a pattern quite new to me, not unlike\r\nKashmiri _chaplis_, but with far more intricate plaiting.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRound his waist was a twisted leather girdle, from which hung a\r\nshort knife and a leather wallet. I opened the wallet and found some\r\ncoins--you\xe2\x80\x99ve seen one of them, and as you can imagine they, too, set\r\nme thinking--and there was something more besides that I\xe2\x80\x99ll show you\r\npresently. There was nothing else of note. But while searching him I\r\ncame to the conclusion that, if he hadn\xe2\x80\x99t died of thirst, he might have\r\ndied from sepsis from his wound. I had to bend pretty close, you see.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, I did some pretty quick thinking. The coincidence between this\r\nfellow and what old John Wrexham wrote was too marked not simply to\r\nstick out. I felt sure then that the old man wrote cold, sober truth.\r\nNow for many reasons I didn\xe2\x80\x99t want my men to see this body. They might\r\nstart thinking too much and making up yarns that would queer my pitch\r\nif I managed to start an expedition. I can tell you, the sight of this\r\nman made me absolutely resolved to set out across the desert as soon as\r\nI could fix up a show that would give some chance of success.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo I straightened him out and left him, but, before doing this, I cut\r\nthe straps of his wallet and pushed it and the short knife into the big\r\nhaversack I was carrying.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I went back to the top of the sand-dune and got out my mapping\r\nstuff--not that I had any intention of doing much: I was too busy\r\nwondering about it all and trying to evolve theories, but I didn\xe2\x80\x99t want\r\nmy men to notice anything unusual. I expect, if they looked up at me at\r\nall, they thought I was carrying on in the usual way with my map spread\r\nout all businesslike.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat night, when the men had dossed down, I sat up studying the\r\ncontents of the wallet, and the next day made up my mind to come back\r\nto India as fast as I could travel and set about finding one of you two\r\nand going north again.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98Once is nothing, twice is coincidence,\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d quoted Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99ve got\r\nhold of the queerest kind of story, but as yet I see no light, save\r\nthat it seems to substantiate your ancient uncle\xe2\x80\x99s yarn. But why in\r\nhell you should find a man in practically the same circumstances as he\r\ndid one hundred years ago has me cold. If I didn\xe2\x80\x99t know you, I should\r\nsay you were pulling our legs.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen you can just imagine how much I wondered that night and many\r\nafter. The coincidence was too absurdly striking, too close to be real,\r\nit seemed; and yet there it was, hard, undeniable fact. But before I go\r\non I\xe2\x80\x99ll show you what I call \xe2\x80\x98three times,\xe2\x80\x99 the \xe2\x80\x98moral cert.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe reached over for the box on the table, opened it, and pulled out\r\njust such a leather wallet as he had described, and then a short knife\r\nof unusual shape, which he laid beside it under the light.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEver seen a knife like that?\xe2\x80\x9d he asked.\r\n\r\nI shook my head. It was unusual in shape, short, rather broad-bladed\r\nwith curved hand-guard, obviously a stabbing dagger, but of what\r\nnationality I could not say. But what held my eye more than its shape\r\nwas the faint filigree of silvery metal lines hammered or welded into\r\nthe bluish steel of the blade. They seemed to form letters of a kind,\r\nthough not easily decipherable.\r\n\r\nForsyth picked it up and examined it. \xe2\x80\x9cI have, but\xe2\x80\x9d--he looked at us\r\nboth--\xe2\x80\x9cthey were in a museum, and labelled \xe2\x80\x98Scandinavian--old,\xe2\x80\x99 and\r\nthey didn\xe2\x80\x99t have this filigree stuff.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thought you\xe2\x80\x99d say something like that,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI looked up a\r\nbook on old weapons as soon as I got back to India. Now for exhibit No.\r\n2, as the policeman calls it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe opened the wallet and took out a flat object wrapped in folds of\r\nsoft cloth, which he unrolled.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t think you\xe2\x80\x99ve ever seen things like that in any museum,\xe2\x80\x9d he\r\nsaid as he laid the object down.\r\n\r\nWe both bent over it and simultaneously exclaimed.\r\n\r\nIt was a little portrait of a girl, painted on what seemed to be a sort\r\nof matt-stone or very hard plaster. The colours were fresh and vivid,\r\nand the art was of a high standard. But the face held us more then than\r\nthe fashion of its depicting.\r\n\r\nIt was a girl looking slightly downward, as though at something she was\r\nholding in her hands. Masses of heavy brown hair with a glint of gold,\r\neyes of deepest blue with a violet tinge screened with long lashes,\r\nunder finely pencilled dark-brown eyebrows, and a skin of rose and\r\nivory with faint blue transparent shadows down the graceful curve where\r\nthe neck entered the filmy garment that swathed the outlined shoulders.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99d cross a good many deserts to meet a girl like that at the far\r\nside,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, as he laid down the picture. \xe2\x80\x9cDo you mean to say\r\nthat that was in the wallet?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham; \xe2\x80\x9cbut you\xe2\x80\x99ve not seen all there is to see.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe turned over the picture, and pointed to some words written on the\r\nback, in unmistakable Greek, a clear-cut delicate writing, in vivid\r\nblack.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTell me what that means, either of you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe bent over it again. Some of the letters differed slightly from the\r\nusual type of classic Greek, but the meaning was quite clear, though\r\nthe word-endings were unusual.\r\n\r\nThe long Canadian was the first to speak.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s Greek of a semi-classical type, I should say. I\xe2\x80\x99ve seen stuff not\r\nunlike it before, though there are unusual points about it. It runs:\r\n\xe2\x80\x98God keep my brother safe where\xe2\x80\x99er he go. Euphrosine.\xe2\x80\x99 You agree with\r\nthat, Lake?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAbsolutely. It\xe2\x80\x99s perfectly easy to read, though the terminations are\r\nneither modern nor quite classical.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI turned to Wrexham.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRead us the riddle, John. I think you\xe2\x80\x99ve found the \xe2\x80\x98three times,\xe2\x80\x99 the\r\n\xe2\x80\x98moral cert,\xe2\x80\x99 though God knows what it all means.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IV\r\n\r\nTHE GREAT DECISION\r\n\r\n\r\nWrexham refilled his pipe and settled back in his chair once more. Then\r\nhe went on:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll give you first of all my reading of the things I\xe2\x80\x99ve just told\r\nyou, and you can tell me whether you think I\xe2\x80\x99m on the right lines.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn the first place, what do we know for certain? That somewhere in the\r\nwest corner of the Gobi Desert, a large unknown bit of country, a man\r\nof apparently white race has been found. Also, a hundred years ago, my\r\ngreat-great-uncle says he found these unknown mountains, an old gate,\r\nand a dead white man.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFurther, that the weapons and other things found on my man are of\r\nold type. Then these strange people use Greek, or a form of it. As\r\nprobably you both know, there was a lot of Greek intercourse with\r\nCentral Asia about the dawn of the Christian era, and before it. There\r\nare races in Afghanistan and the north of India with unmistakable\r\nGreek characteristics to this day, and numerous legends of the days of\r\nAlexander still survive all up and down the Indian border.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, to my mind all these facts are capable of but one explanation--\r\nnamely, that hidden in that desert is some isolated settlement of\r\nfair-skinned people, perhaps from the old days of Greek domination in\r\nCentral Asia. Since there is not even a legend about them in the local\r\ncountryside, it is pretty clear that they have been cut off for a good\r\nmany centuries. Possibly at some remote period they crossed the desert,\r\nwhich, perhaps, was not so extensive then, before the dry area which\r\nhas buried so many towns in that part began to form. Or perhaps they\r\nwere driven out by one of the succeeding waves of invasion from China,\r\nand fled northward until they came upon this hidden refuge.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhether they are all still of pure white type is not clear, though the\r\ntwo individuals seen seem to be. My man certainly was. The picture of\r\nthe girl further points to at least some of them having retained all\r\ntheir original racial characteristics.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI take it both of you agree with this part of my theory?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI can think of nothing else that fits the facts,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cWhat has\r\nForsyth got to say about it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI agree entirely with Wrexham. The writing on the back of the picture\r\nis certainly recent. I\xe2\x80\x99ve done a bit of research work with old\r\nmanuscripts and so on--rather a hobby of mine one time--and I\xe2\x80\x99ll take\r\nmy oath that that writing is not more than a few years old, judging by\r\nthe ink, although the type of script must go back hundreds of years.\r\nIt\xe2\x80\x99s impossible that any of the present Turki or Chinese inhabitants\r\ncould or would write stuff of that sort. And how could they imagine or\r\ninvent an old Greek name like \xe2\x80\x98Euphrosine\xe2\x80\x99? Unless some daft European,\r\nwith a gift for forgery and a knowledge of old Greek script, is faking\r\nantiques in the middle of the Gobi Desert, there\xe2\x80\x99s only one reading,\r\nand that\xe2\x80\x99s the one Wrexham has given us.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, since you agree with the first part of my thesis, I shall go\r\non with the second,\xe2\x80\x9d continued Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cThe first part establishes,\r\nas far as one can, the probability of some forgotten Greek settlement\r\nto be found beyond the northeast corner of Kashgaria. If so, it\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmore than worth looking for. But before I go on, are either of you\r\nprepared to come with me? It\xe2\x80\x99s an eighteen months\xe2\x80\x99 job at the very\r\nleast, and possibly longer. But it\xe2\x80\x99s worth it, I think. Think of the\r\nold scientific blokes in Europe if we come back with an authentic\r\naccount, complete with photos, and records, and perhaps with some of\r\nthe inhabitants of an old Greek settlement probably much as it was in\r\nthe days of Alexander.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhether or not there\xe2\x80\x99s money in it, I don\xe2\x80\x99t know. You, Harry, are\r\nprobably not out for money, having enough for your wants. I am\r\npersonally, but not much. I\xe2\x80\x99m rather a wanderer, and nothing would\r\nplease me more than a life of exploration. If we can pull this off, we\r\nshall be made men in the exploring world, and can be sure of getting\r\nsufficient financial support in future to make further expeditions.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99ve said that I\xe2\x80\x99ve always had a taste for travel, and have spent\r\nnot a little time and money on gratifying it. And here was Wrexham\r\nnot only holding out a prospect of exploring an entirely unknown bit\r\nof the world, but gilding the lily with what looked like very good\r\npresumptive evidence of living survivals from past centuries. There was\r\nnothing much to draw me home. My only close relative was my sister,\r\nmade a widow by Loos, who, with her two boys, kept the old manor-house\r\nfarm warm for me. I had settled part of my income on her, and with\r\nthat and her own little bit of money, she could keep the manor-house\r\nhome up comfortably and pay for the boys\xe2\x80\x99 schooling. On chucking the\r\nservice, my idea had been to spend the summers at home and the winters\r\nglobe-trotting.\r\n\r\nSo my mind required no making up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCount me in,\xe2\x80\x9d I said to Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cCentral Asia\xe2\x80\x99s called me ever\r\nsince I first came East, and here you are with a whole lot of extra\r\nattractions.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd you, Alec? You weren\xe2\x80\x99t certain before,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham.\r\n\r\nForsyth leaned across the table, took up the picture, and gazed at it\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, but you\xe2\x80\x99d only told me part of the story. I\xe2\x80\x99ll start to-morrow if\r\nyou like.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood! I thought you would both come. Then, now I\xe2\x80\x99ll go on with the\r\nsecond part of my thesis as to how my great-great-uncle and I found\r\ntwo men under such very similar circumstances. You admit that the\r\ncoincidence is more than strange.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou remember that the old man came upon a small enclosed space at the\r\nend of the valley full of bones, and among them a new corpse killed by\r\nan arrow under the entrance gates.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI find a man whose hands have been bound, and who has been also\r\nwounded by what might have been an arrow. Note further that No. 1 was\r\nfound stripped, although his hands were bound. Ergo, he was stripped\r\nbefore he was killed, otherwise they\xe2\x80\x99d have had to undo his hands to\r\nget his kit off.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. 2, on the other hand, has clothes and escapes, and what is more is\r\narmed. You don\xe2\x80\x99t tie up an armed man to shoot. Note also that my old\r\nrelative makes no mention of his fellow\xe2\x80\x99s legs having been tied, and my\r\nman\xe2\x80\x99s did not seem to have been.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, I thought an awful lot over these two. And this is what it\r\nseems to me. Quite obviously men whose arms are bound are prisoners.\r\nExecution without the gates was a very typical method in all old\r\ncountries, and common even now in the East.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy own idea--perhaps fanciful--is, therefore, that whoever run this\r\nplace, when they want to kill off any one, they put him outside the\r\ngates with his arms bound, and shoot him with arrows either from the\r\ngates or from the arrow-slits. Possibly the idea of leaving his legs\r\nfree is to give the fellow a last sporting chance of getting away to\r\ntake his luck in the desert if he can bolt before he\xe2\x80\x99s killed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, my fellow seems to have had a sister--a cultured person, one\r\nwould say--not the sort of sister you\xe2\x80\x99d associate with a common\r\ncriminal.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy idea is that she bribed the executioners not to shoot straight,\r\nand that he bolted into the valley, where, by some preconceived\r\narrangement, he found clothes and food, and then freed his hands\r\nagainst a sharp rock. He was a strongly built young fellow, and\r\nprobably would make the best fight he could, even despite his wound.\r\nPossibly he knew that they were going to drop him stuff over the cliffs\r\nsomewhere in the valley.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, in view of the sister, it seems unlikely that he was a common\r\ncriminal. A more likely solution would be either some particularly\r\ntyrannical rulers, or possibly some kind of bitter civil war. I have\r\nmy own ideas as to how he got across the desert, which I can explain\r\nbetter when we get there.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat do you think of my solution so far?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe had to agree that it was as logical as any interpretation we could\r\nput upon it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, then, and this is why I\xe2\x80\x99ve given it at length. If we find the\r\nplace, and if we succeed in getting in, we want to be well armed, and,\r\nwhat\xe2\x80\x99s more, have some one more reliable than the local Turkestani\r\ncamel men. I have Firoz still. Could you, Harry, rake up a reliable\r\nsepoy to come?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve got Payindah here now. Like Firoz, he\xe2\x80\x99s left the army and toddles\r\nround with me. You remember him that day near Festubert when you got\r\nthat gash across your face. Big Punjabi with green eyes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy Jove, yes. Chap that had his bayonet smashed, and then killed\r\nanother fellow with the broken end?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, that\xe2\x80\x99s him. He was very excited to-night when I said I\xe2\x80\x99d run\r\nacross you and was coming over to dine here. I expect he\xe2\x80\x99ll come to\r\nmake his salaams to-morrow.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe\xe2\x80\x99s just the very article. Used to be pally with Firoz, too, I\r\nremember.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, the other thing is, that we may find when we get there that the\r\ngate and the valley are peculiarly unhealthy. Therefore, I suggest that\r\nin making up our kit we include some kind of light strong ropes and\r\nother climbing gear. You, Harry, I know are a good climber, and Alec\r\nsays he has done a bit of mountaineering at different times. Then, if\r\nthe gate is no go, we can hunt around and try and find some other way\r\nin over the cliffs.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s something in that,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cFrom your great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s\r\naccount, the valley did not seem exactly the sort of place you could\r\nwalk in by if the folk inside hadn\xe2\x80\x99t invited you and didn\xe2\x80\x99t like your\r\nface.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe last thing I want to suggest is that we take along some kind of\r\nmedical kit for Alec. If we find these people are really there, they\r\nare likely to be fair to middling medi\xc3\xa6val, if not even more primitive,\r\nthough the girl\xe2\x80\x99s picture rather rules out their being anything\r\napproaching savages. Therefore, a perfectly good and moderately\r\nwell-equipped medicine-man might prove a most useful passport in the\r\ncountry. For the same reason I\xe2\x80\x99m lugging along a few oddments in the\r\nengineering line to startle the natives with.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, \xe2\x80\x9call that seems very sound. Now, when do you propose\r\nthat we start? The passes are no good before April, and that\xe2\x80\x99s four\r\nmonths away.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, first of all we\xe2\x80\x99ve got to fit out. I\xe2\x80\x99ve got a list of kit all\r\nworked out, but we must get down to Bombay or Calcutta where one can\r\nget things. This place is no good.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I shall go on down to the C.P. and carry on with my shoot. Would\r\nyou care to come as well? From there we can go on to Calcutta and fit\r\nout.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, rather. I\xe2\x80\x99ve never seen a tiger outside of a cage,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat about you, John?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I\xe2\x80\x99ll come along, but I won\xe2\x80\x99t stop long. Directly after Christmas\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99ll push on and start getting things together, and you can meet me at\r\nCalcutta.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen that\xe2\x80\x99s that, and now for bed. One thing, John. How do you account\r\nfor finding your man? I don\xe2\x80\x99t mean the shooting part and the sister,\r\nbut the rest? It\xe2\x80\x99s one of the most extraordinary things I ever heard.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t attempt to account for it really. But although, as you know,\r\nI don\xe2\x80\x99t profess any particular kind of religion, I do believe that\r\nsomething or some one runs the show with some very clear design. And\r\njust as the smallest part in the biggest machine has to be made to work\r\non appointed lines, so, too, each one of us must have some definite\r\npart to play, though we may not know what it\xe2\x80\x99s all about while we\xe2\x80\x99re\r\ndoing it. In this case I hope it doesn\xe2\x80\x99t sound as if I was talking\r\nthrough my hat when I say that I really do believe that for some reason\r\nor other we\xe2\x80\x99re meant to get to this country which we think exists.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRemember that my getting there didn\xe2\x80\x99t save that fellow\xe2\x80\x99s life. Also,\r\nyou can\xe2\x80\x99t quite account by mere telepathy for my feeling of some one\r\ncalling me. The first day, perhaps, yes. He was probably just about\r\ndying then, and maybe his calls for help travelled in some unknown way\r\nto me, the nearest human being.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut--when I started off into the desert--the impression disappeared,\r\nand did not reappear until I was on the point of turning back. Then it\r\nsuddenly reappeared stronger than ever, and the man had been dead two\r\ndays.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was clearly not meant to save his life, but I do think, queer as it\r\nmay sound, that I was meant to find his body.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat, combined with the chance of my great-great-uncle finding the\r\ncountry, the chance, if you call it so, of my picking up those old\r\npapers at home before I came out, and the chance of my being able to go\r\nup to Central Asia and of being there just at that particular moment,\r\nto me point to the fact of our being intended to get to that hidden\r\ncountry.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy I or either of you or all of us are wanted there, and what we are\r\nto do when we get there, the Power that starts us off alone knows. But\r\nI cannot help the feeling that we are meant to get there, and that we\r\nshall get there. Then beyond that all is a blank. But the getting-there\r\npart seems to me Sapper\xe2\x80\x99s \xe2\x80\x98three times\xe2\x80\x99--simply a moral cert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs for me, I don\xe2\x80\x99t believe in anything particularly, and it\xe2\x80\x99s all\r\nquite beyond me,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cBut the prospect is pleasing enough\r\nwithout worrying about the why and wherefore. I shall look forward to\r\ntrying twentieth-century medicine on second-century Greeks.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd on that we went off to bed, after arranging to meet next morning to\r\nfix up our journey on to Bombay.\r\n\r\nBut--unlike Wrexham and Forsyth--I do profess a belief--a very\r\ndefinite, concrete one; and, when I said my prayers that night, I\r\nprayed that we might have fortune in our undertaking, and if He\r\nmeant us to go there--which, after Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s story, I could not but\r\nbelieve--that we might have grace and strength to carry out whatever He\r\nwanted of us.\r\n\r\nBefore I went to sleep, I read one of my \xe2\x80\x9cbed books,\xe2\x80\x9d and happened upon\r\nthe verse of Psalm 23: \xe2\x80\x9cThough I walk through the valley of the shadow\r\nof death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nA suitable verse for old John Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s gateway, I thought, and so went\r\nto sleep.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER V\r\n\r\nTHE JUMPING-OFF LINE\r\n\r\n\r\nI shall not lengthen out an already long record by describing our\r\njourney from Calcutta, where we did much of our fitting out, up\r\nto Kashmir, on over the passes to Yarkand, and thence round the\r\nnorth of the Tarim Desert. Nor shall I describe the high passes of\r\nthe snow-line, nor the precipitous cliff roads and the overhanging\r\n_paris_, nor the grey snow-fed torrents we traversed. The journey\r\nwas full of interest and incident, and we met all kinds of strange\r\npeoples. Ladakhis, in heavy duffle clothes, Chinese merchants in high\r\nfelt boots, Khirgiz men in big mushroom hats, and Khirgiz women in\r\ntall white head-dresses recalling pictures of Plantagenet days, long\r\ncaravans of shaggy camels, droves of fat-tailed sheep--such were our\r\nacquaintances as we wound along day after brief day and week after\r\nlong week on our little mountain ponies or on foot over the towering\r\nheights. Nor is there space to describe our adventures with officious\r\nChinese Ambans, who were over-punctilious in the matter of passports,\r\nand who had to be pacified in various ways.\r\n\r\nSufficient has already been written by various writers concerning these\r\nwell-known highways, and this aims at being a record of adventure\r\nrather than a guide-book. In any case, beyond Aksu I have altered the\r\nnames and localities and the compass bearings pretty considerably.\r\nHaving made a few discoveries, we are not inclined to give them away.\r\nRecent happenings have altered our ideas on the commercial value of\r\nbook, photo, and lecture rights, and for the moment, anyway, we have no\r\ndesire to indicate our footsteps too closely to others who might wish\r\nto follow.\r\n\r\nSo, saving for the fact that we passed within measurable distance of\r\nHami on our way into the Gobi Desert beyond it, this record will not\r\ngive any particularly valuable data.\r\n\r\nIt was the end of November when we met in the Gymkhana at Karachi; it\r\nwas late September of the following year that at last saw us at our\r\nstarting-place, the tiny village Wrexham had visited on his first trip.\r\nThe particular point from where I am now taking up the story is vivid\r\nin my memory, because it was the day after we had lost our cook. He had\r\nlong been a thorn in our sides, more particularly in Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s, who ran\r\nour messing arrangements. Still he had some ideas of the preparation of\r\nfood in a form more or less consumable by Europeans.\r\n\r\nWhether he was tired of long marches, or whether he was afraid of going\r\ntoo far toward China, or whether he considered that Wrexham was too\r\nknowledgeable a person for an \xe2\x80\x9chonest\xe2\x80\x9d Ladakhi to get rich on, and that\r\nmore profitable pickings could be got with some passably ignorant sahib\r\nwhose business was the securing of record heads in the mountains, one\r\nor two of which folk we had met on our journey up, I can\xe2\x80\x99t say.\r\n\r\nAnyway, the day we left Aksu (he had drawn the balance of his pay the\r\nday before under the pretext of remitting it home through some Indian\r\nmoney-lenders who had cashed cheques for us) he just was not. Wrexham\r\nrode back to Aksu to see if he could be found, but failed to discover\r\nany traces of him. The man had just vanished. Doubtless he had joined\r\nsome passing caravan or else hidden with some acquaintance in Aksu.\r\nThis put us in rather a quandary, for we did not relish the idea of\r\nliving for the future on purely native food.\r\n\r\nAnd that was the point where we first realized the extraordinary value\r\nof that Admirable Crichton, Firoz Khan, Punjabi Mohammedan, of the\r\nSalt Range, ex-sapper and miner and devoted slave of Wrexham. He had\r\nserved on three fronts, finally cutting his name, to follow Wrexham as\r\nbody-servant and orderly and general master of the household to Central\r\nAsia in 1919.\r\n\r\nPossibly in India pride of race would have prevented him offering his\r\nservices, but here in the wastes of Kashgaria, among a people who know\r\nnot caste, the old Hindu traditions which tend to hamper the Mussulman\r\nin India fell from him completely.\r\n\r\nWe were rather despondently making our evening meal off tinned stuffs\r\nrequiring no cooking which Payindah Khan, my ex-sepoy orderly and\r\npresent body-servant, had laid out for us. Payindah had learnt the art\r\nof waiting at table in East Africa, when most of our Indian servants\r\nhad faded away into hospital. When I sent in my papers Payindah had\r\ndemanded to be taken along wherever I was going, to superintend my\r\n\xe2\x80\x9chousehold,\xe2\x80\x9d as he called my odd servants and grooms.\r\n\r\nWounded in France, again in East Africa, again in Palestine, the last\r\ntime pretty badly, he was a Punjabi Mussulman of the old type pre-war\r\nsoldier. Uneducated yeoman farmer, whose knowledge of letters amounted\r\nto a painful slow scrawl which purported to be his signature, and\r\na rapid and accurate but utterly incomprehensible method of doing\r\naccounts which saved me a good deal monthly on the bills my following\r\nproduced, he was gifted with a quick mother-wit and a shrewd skill in\r\njudging men that was worth all the cheap board-school type of education\r\nthat we are trying to thrust on unwilling India at the request of the\r\nbabu politician.\r\n\r\nHe was a childless man, wifeless, too, since the \xe2\x80\x99flu year, and for\r\nsome reason had not married again. I asked him one day who was going\r\nto inherit his land in Salt Range if he didn\xe2\x80\x99t marry, and he told me\r\nthat his nephew, a fine strapping lad who had been in my company during\r\nthe war, would take it on, and there were two smaller editions at home\r\nwaiting to get big enough to join the regiment and let the nephew go\r\nback to their land.\r\n\r\nFighting stock were Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s folk. Of the five brothers three\r\nwere buried on different fronts. Another--crippled from a shell\r\nwound--helped the old white-bearded grandfather, with the string of\r\nearly frontier campaign ribbons, to run the family acres in the Salt\r\nRange that their folk had held since time immemorial.\r\n\r\nHowever, I was really talking about Firoz.\r\n\r\nAfter we had finished our meal, and Payindah was clearing away, Firoz\r\ncame and started on the subject of the cook.\r\n\r\nHe lamented that he had not had the presence of mind to tie the\r\nlow-born, self-styled Mussulman--might his face be blackened for all\r\ntime--to a camel-saddle that night after he had drawn his money. After\r\na lot of talk he got down to the real business--namely, that, until we\r\ncould get a decent cook, he would feed us, and appealed to Payindah for\r\nsupport in the suggestion.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWithout doubt, sahibs,\xe2\x80\x9d said Payindah, \xe2\x80\x9cFiroz is a cook of the best\r\nafter the manner of our folk. It is better that the sahibs should eat\r\ndecent Punjabi food cleanly cooked by a person of repute than shorten\r\ntheir days by that which one of these half heathen--such as might be\r\ngot for a price in the bazaars--would prepare.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEven so,\xe2\x80\x9d chorused Firoz; \xe2\x80\x9cand although I know not the \xe2\x80\x98side dishes\xe2\x80\x99\r\nand the \xe2\x80\x98first-carses\xe2\x80\x99 of the sahibs, still I can cook good _pillaus_\r\nand _kababs_ such as the sahibs have in mess sometimes. Also my\r\n_chupattis_ will be far better than the bread that son of perdition\r\nused to make, such that Wrexham sahib once broke a knife cutting it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThis last remark was true, and the resultant disturbance may have been\r\none of the causes of the cook\xe2\x80\x99s going.\r\n\r\nAnyway, we heartily agreed that a turn of Punjabi cuisine by Firoz\r\ncould not be worse and might be far better than what we had suffered at\r\nour late cook\xe2\x80\x99s hands. And so it proved once we had broken him of the\r\nhabit of smothering things in oil.\r\n\r\nThis disappearance of the cook was in one way a blessing, as it was one\r\nless mouth for our expedition across the desert. We were anxious not to\r\ntake any of the local people with us, since, if we found anything worth\r\nhaving, we wished rather to keep the knowledge to ourselves. We had\r\nbought our own camels at Yarkand so as to render us independent. The\r\nonly local man we kept on continuously was a Turki camel-driver. Since\r\nthe country we were going into was quite unknown, there was nothing to\r\nbe gained from the knowledge the local people possessed. Hence we had\r\nsimply hired extra men for a few stages at a time, replacing them by\r\nothers as we went along.\r\n\r\nThe one exception, the camel-driver, a man who had accompanied Wrexham\r\nin 1919, Sadiq by name, was passably honest and trustworthy, and\r\nseemed to be a wanderer with no particular relatives. He had, however,\r\nsufficient local standing to serve to keep us in touch with the\r\ncountryside on our way up from Yarkand, and was extremely useful in\r\nlooking after the camels and the hired men. Both Firoz and Payindah had\r\na good knowledge of the beasts, Firoz having learnt much about them in\r\nPalestine, where he had been transport lance _naik_ of his unit.\r\n\r\nFor our journey across the desert we had reduced our kit to a minimum.\r\n\r\nThe main question was water, and for that we had brought special tanks\r\nfrom India of galvanized iron, holding seventeen gallons apiece, two\r\nfull tanks making the camel-load. We had four camel-loads of water,\r\nmaking one hundred and thirty-six gallons in all, which, considering\r\nmen alone, would give us rather over five gallons a day for the seven\r\nof us for twenty-five days. If we did not find the hills old John\r\nWrexham had written about, we ought to be able to make our way back\r\nall right, since the consumption of food and water would automatically\r\nlighten the loads of the camels, and heavier stores could be shifted\r\noff the other beasts, who by that time would be pretty tucked up.\r\n\r\nStill, I don\xe2\x80\x99t think any of us feared not finding the hills and the\r\nstream or water of sorts. We were all thoroughly convinced that the\r\nstory was true. The coincidence of Wrexham finding the dead man in the\r\ndesert tallied too much with the account in his great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndiary for the original story to be an invention. Our main preoccupation\r\nwas how to get into the country, and the kind of reception we were\r\nlikely to get. We had also arranged to start with one camel-load of\r\nfull rations for men, which should last us three weeks easily, or a\r\nmonth if we were very careful, and about one and a half camel-loads\r\nof grain and oil for camels, giving starvation ration for about the\r\nsame period. We were chancing our arm over the matter of food for\r\nthe camels, and they could not possibly stay anything like that\r\nperiod without water; but within five days of starting we could count\r\non ascertaining whether or not there was any snow mountain in the\r\ndistance, and if so we could safely risk giving part of our water to\r\nthe camels. If nothing whatever was seen after six days, we should, of\r\ncourse, have to consider the question of returning.\r\n\r\nOne camel carried our personal baggage, a very limited amount for\r\neach, our books, maps, survey instruments, and so on. Another carried\r\nammunition, of which we brought a fair amount. We might, if we got into\r\nthe country alive, have to fight, and we all agreed that ammunition\r\nwas a _sine qua non_. To save complications in the matter we had\r\nstandardized our armament. There were five .303 rifles, one for each\r\nof us, and one each for the two Punjabis. These we carried ourselves.\r\nWe had two thousand rounds of ammunition, a liberal allowance for\r\neventualities.\r\n\r\nWrexham, Forsyth, and I each had a forty-five automatic Colt pistol\r\nwith one hundred and fifty rounds apiece. And on the ammunition camel\r\nwe had a twelve-bore gun with some three hundred cartridges for\r\nshooting for the pot. The rest of the camel\xe2\x80\x99s load was made up of a\r\nsmall tool outfit for Wrexham, who, unlike many sappers, was a man of\r\nhis hands, and never better pleased than when doing odd jobs, and a\r\ngoodly medical outfit for Forsyth, as we had agreed at Karachi.\r\n\r\nThe ninth camel carried climbing gear, ropes, and the like, oddments of\r\ncamp kit, and an eighty-pound tent, with nearly a half-load of rations\r\nfor the camels.\r\n\r\nLastly, we had one spare beast which could be used for riding at a\r\npinch if any of us fell sick, but was primarily intended to replace any\r\ncasualty. All ten were very carefully picked animals, and we had got\r\nthem into the best of condition against the hardships they would have\r\nto face once we struck out into the desert.\r\n\r\nWe had decided to leave the road at Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s village and march by\r\ncompass on a bearing, of fifty-two degrees. Old John Wrexham said\r\nhe went due northeast (forty-five degrees), and then had had to go\r\nright-handed for nearly two days before he reached the valley. On the\r\nassumption that his records were accurate, the bearing of fifty-two\r\nwould bring us to the hills about a day\xe2\x80\x99s march from the valley. On the\r\nother hand, if--as was likely in view of his troubles coming back--the\r\ndistance was more than he had estimated on the outward journey, it\r\nwould put us closer still to the valley, perhaps within a mile or two.\r\n\r\nAt Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s village we filled up with water--we had made up our food\r\nloads at the last town and lived on local produce since--and added a\r\nlittle in the way of such fresh vegetables as were procurable. We spent\r\ntwo busy days there, finally fitting out and doing various odd repairs\r\nto gear such as are rendered necessary after a long march.\r\n\r\nWrexham, who had now a pretty useful knowledge of Turki, spent most of\r\nhis time talking to the inhabitants, and asking questions about routes\r\nin the desert, and in carefully creating an atmosphere favourable\r\nto the reasons he gave for our trip. He announced that we intended\r\ntravelling on to the next big town, but, instead of following the road,\r\nwe were going to move parallel to it about two days\xe2\x80\x99 distance into the\r\ndesert in search of ruined towns, abandoned as the country desiccated\r\nand the desert grew.\r\n\r\nAll the way along we had displayed a keen (and not altogether\r\nfictitious) interest in arch\xc3\xa6ology, employing our various halts\r\nin visiting old ruins, and here and there buying small antique or\r\npseudo-antique relics.\r\n\r\nAs a consequence we had no difficulty in making people believe our\r\nstory, and in any case there was no reason for them to think that\r\nwe were mad enough to want to strike straight into the unknown and\r\npathless desert to the north. We had not told either the Punjabis or\r\nSadiq what our real destination was, lest they should give it out to\r\nall and sundry.\r\n\r\nOur final departure was fixed for the 1st October, and we intended to\r\nmake an early start and carry out as long a march as possible.\r\n\r\nWe had everything except the barest necessities packed up the night\r\nbefore ready for loading, and held a final inspection of water-tanks\r\nand stores before it got dark.\r\n\r\nAfter we had finished our evening meal and the two Punjabis were\r\npacking up the last oddments, we three sat out at the entrance of our\r\nlittle tent muffled up in _poshtins_, for the nights were by now pretty\r\ncold.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99ve reached the jumping-off line, and zero hour\xe2\x80\x99s pretty near,\xe2\x80\x9d said\r\nForsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cI wonder what we shall find at the far end?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWater, I trust,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, the ever practical; \xe2\x80\x9cfor if we don\xe2\x80\x99t we\r\nshall have to turn about and scuttle back double time.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wasn\xe2\x80\x99t thinking of water, you unromantic materialist. I want to know\r\nthe kind of people we\xe2\x80\x99re going to find. Think of finding a bit of the\r\nancient world still in being. Lord, think of the yarns one would have\r\nto tell when one got back home! I\xe2\x80\x99d make a few stuffy professors I know\r\nsit up some,\xe2\x80\x9d replied the doctor.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf the local inhabitants are as pleasant-looking as the lady\r\nEuphrosine of the picture, I should think you could make even the\r\ndriest of old inhabitants sit up,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cI wonder whether your\r\npassion for ethnology in general would blind you to a keener interest\r\nin specific living specimens in that case.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nOur stay in Calcutta had proved to me that Forsyth was far from being\r\naverse to the society of fair maidens; in fact, at one time I had\r\nserious fears lest the attractions of certain damsels might not prove\r\nmore potent than that of mythical Greek relics in the heart of Asia.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, dry up, Harry. You can never get away from your innuendoes about\r\nfrocks and frills, merely because when I\xe2\x80\x99m in civilization I like to\r\nenjoy it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI didn\xe2\x80\x99t make any innuendoes. Your guilty conscience betrays you. Did\r\nyou leave any address in Calcutta, or leave touching messages about how\r\nyour thoughts would travel from far sand-buried Khotan, or how sweet\r\ncertain memories would seem in forgotten Lop Nor?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI ducked the tobacco-pouch he threw at me, and while he was looking for\r\nit resumed in a more serious vein:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHave you ever worked out, Wrexham, how that fellow you found could\r\nhave got so far across the desert without water?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; I\xe2\x80\x99ve thought about that a good deal. My own idea is that he must\r\nhave had some with him as a start. If you remember, the old diary\r\nrefers to the stream running out about a dozen miles. That would give\r\nhim a start, nearly a day\xe2\x80\x99s march. He might have carried a load of\r\ntwenty pounds--say two gallons. He carried little else, presumably a\r\nlittle food. Two small skins at a gallon apiece would have lasted him\r\nfour days, even allowing for his being wounded. That takes him five\r\ndays out--say, sixty miles. Remember, he was apparently fighting for\r\nhis life.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe question is, what did he do after that? My own theory on the\r\npoint is that he was saved for a time by the rain. You may remember I\r\nsaid--at least I think I told you--that we had had rain on and off for\r\na week. In the diary you remember that my great-great-uncle mentions\r\nhaving noticed some rock outcrops on his way back. Well, they might\r\nhave hollows in them which would fill up in rain, not necessarily big\r\nones, but things holding a few gallons, like you see in most of the\r\nhills about here. A good shower would give him another refill, and so\r\ncarry him on another thirty miles or so. Probably thereafter there\r\nwould be no more outcrops, and the last bit he had to do without water,\r\nand that--perhaps combined with his wound--is to my mind what finished\r\nthe poor devil off. Rotten luck pegging out like that only two days\r\nshort of help.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat theory, by the way, is one of my reasons for heading a bit more\r\nsouth than the course steered by my great-great-uncle. If there _are_\r\nsuch rock outcrops, and if we have any more rain such as we had last\r\nweek, we might get an opportunity of giving the camels a bit more to\r\ndrink.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite a sound bit of deduction. It will be interesting to see if we\r\nfind any little rock-pools or places that could be pools on the way.\r\nWell, I see the men have turned in, and I think we might do worse than\r\nfollow suit. It\xe2\x80\x99s past nine, and we\xe2\x80\x99ve got to be up at four and see the\r\ncamels loaded and get a meal before we start.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think so, too,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, getting to his feet. \xe2\x80\x9cLord, aren\xe2\x80\x99t the\r\nstars extra gorgeous to-night? I wonder if we shall find these people\r\nuse the old Greek names still?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDunno about that, but I\xe2\x80\x99ll take a bet they still say the same kind\r\nof things to the same kind of girls out under the same stars. Human\r\nnature\xe2\x80\x99s the one thing that does not change much through the ages.\r\nHistory shows you that, all right.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWith you, Harry. It\xe2\x80\x99s the one unchanging factor in a very changeable\r\nworld. However, what about the bed stakes?\xe2\x80\x9d Wrexham, a podgy figure in\r\nhis _poshtin_, knocked the ashes of his pipe out against the heel of\r\nhis boot and made for his bedding roll.\r\n\r\nTen minutes later we were all rolled up in our blankets, and Forsyth\r\nturned down the light.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VI\r\n\r\nTHE DESERT\r\n\r\n\r\nAt 4 A.M. Wrexham, who has the faculty of waking at whatever time he\r\nwishes, kicked us out of our blankets and said it was time to move.\r\nOutside the tent Firoz was busy with breakfast, while Payindah and\r\nSadiq were roping up the last bundles of kit. The moment we were\r\noutside, Payindah rolled up our valises, and then they struck and\r\npacked our eighty-pound tent.\r\n\r\nWe ate a pretty solid meal, for long travelling and campaigning had\r\ninured us to food at the small hours, and we wanted to make as long a\r\nmarch as possible that day, when the camels would be at their freshest.\r\nBreakfast over, the camels were brought up by Sadiq and a friend picked\r\nup in the village, who hung about our camp while we were there.\r\n\r\nThen we set to loading the beasts, who were fairly tractable after\r\ntheir long marches, though, of course, in the manner of all camels,\r\nthey gurgled and snarled incessantly, or blew out pink bladders from\r\ntheir cavernous, ill-smelling mouths while voicing their complaints.\r\nThere was no trouble over the water camels; it was the miscellaneous\r\ncollections such as that carried by the ammunition camel which caused\r\nus many anxious moments trying to secure the various odd-shaped packets\r\ninto two compact loads. Fortunately, they were constant ones that would\r\nnot have to be broken _en route_--at least, we hoped not.\r\n\r\nBy 5.30 A.M. the last camel stood up finally loaded, Firoz hurriedly\r\nattaching two hurricane-lamps and a bundle of kitchen oddments to the\r\npeak of the saddle, after the manner of the immemorial East.\r\n\r\nIt was still dark, but there was a faint, faint glimmer in the east\r\nthat foreshadowed the coming dawn, and the dark velvet of the starlit\r\nsky was beginning to show a tinge of indigo above the far horizon.\r\nAway on the outskirts of the village a mournful dog wailed his sorrows\r\nto the unheeding dark.\r\n\r\nA final inspection of the loads by the aid of a lantern, a last look\r\nround our camp-site, and then Wrexham--unanimously appointed Caravan\r\nBashi--gave the order to start.\r\n\r\nThe first part of our way lay along a little track fringing some\r\nfields, the last bits of cultivation on the edge of the desert.\r\nThereafter we were to march by Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s oil compass. We had\r\nreconnoitred the first five or six miles the day before, dead level\r\ngoing, so there was no danger of delay by unforeseen obstacles.\r\n\r\nWith Wrexham and Firoz at the head of the little string of\r\nsilent-footed camels, Forsyth and Sadiq in the middle to see that no\r\nloads slipped or beasts strayed aside before dawn, and Payindah and\r\nmyself bringing up the rear, we moved out along the sandy track with no\r\nsound save the monotonous tinkling of the leading camel\xe2\x80\x99s bell.\r\n\r\nSadiq\xe2\x80\x99s friend, after embracing Sadiq three times in Eastern fashion,\r\nstood at the edge of the camp-site to wish us luck as we went. Then he\r\ndisappeared in the dark, the last fellow-being we were like to see for\r\nthe next ten days at the most optimistic computation.\r\n\r\nThere was a slight check as we neared the end of the fields, from which\r\nI guessed that Wrexham was getting his bearings; then the leading\r\ncamel\xe2\x80\x99s bell rang out again on the chill dawn air, the ghostly great\r\nbeasts in front of me quickened their pace once more, and we passed out\r\ninto the desert.\r\n\r\nThe full dawn saw us just emerging from the last vegetation, odd\r\ndried-up thickets and reeds, while in front lay the rolling low\r\nsand-dunes that were to be our home for some time to come. The air was\r\ncold and still, a blessing for which we were devoutly thankful. The\r\nfirst day we had looked out over the desert there had been a strong\r\nnortheast wind, which blew great yellow sand-spouts along, blinding us\r\nfrom time to time. But to-day, as if for a favourable omen, hardly a\r\nbreath stirred, and the blue distances were clear.\r\n\r\nAt first we passed over ground covered with fine soft dust, here\r\nand there splashed with white and grey salt deposits that crackled\r\nunderfoot, and now and then small terraces of friable clay, last relics\r\nof the days when all this area was the bottom of the great inland sea.\r\nThen, after an hour or so, we got into low sand-ridges, the high-water\r\nmark of the restless ocean, which stretched before us on three sides as\r\nfar as the eye could reach.\r\n\r\nA little farther and we were well out of our depth--to continue\r\nthe simile of the sea--in ridges and ridges of sand from ten to\r\nfifteen feet high, like the breakers along a coast, swelling up\r\ngently from the direction of the prevailing northeast wind, and\r\nsteeper-faced--sometimes almost concave at the top--on the south and\r\nwest where we approached them, for all the world like waves about to\r\nbreak and solidified in the process.\r\n\r\nAll day we travelled hour after plodding hour through this trackless\r\nsea of fine greyish sand. The last of the scanty vegetation had been\r\nleft behind when we made our midday halt, not a blade of grass, not a\r\ntamarisk, nothing but sand, utterly void of life. The sun beat down on\r\nto the sand, and the glare was blinding, but even at midday the heat\r\nwas not oppressive. We were thankful for our coloured glasses, and even\r\nthe two Punjabis were glad to put on those we had brought for them,\r\nmuch as they had jested at the idea at first.\r\n\r\nWe covered eighteen miles that day, and camped in a little valley among\r\nthe dunes, where by good fortune we found some dried-up tamarisk roots,\r\nwhich gave us a good fire, for the evening temperature fell fast once\r\nthe sun was down, and we were glad enough to slip into our _poshtins_\r\nonce more. The heat absorbed by the sand in the day radiates off at an\r\nimmense pace after dusk, if one can talk about that period of the day,\r\nalmost non-existent in sand countries.\r\n\r\nAfter our evening meal that night, we decided--as we had previously\r\narranged--to tell the men something about our destination. We began\r\nwith the two Punjabis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cListen, Payindah and Firoz,\xe2\x80\x9d began Wrexham, \xe2\x80\x9cto an old tale of my\r\nfather\xe2\x80\x99s grandfather\xe2\x80\x99s brother, who was once in the army of John\r\nCompany Bahadur. He left the army and came up here travelling, even as\r\nI have done, and he came by the same road into this very desert.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAfter many days he found in its very heart high hills with snow\r\nmountains, and at the gate of the hills he found an old fort and\r\noutside that a dead man. And the dead man was white, even as I or as\r\nLake sahib or as Forsyth sahib.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut when he wished to enter the hills the two men with him became\r\nafraid, so that he had to return across the desert, and the water he\r\nhad was finished, and first his camels and then his men died. And he\r\nhimself all but died. And not wishing to tell the people here aught of\r\nhis discovery until he should have searched more, he said nothing but\r\nreturned to Hind, to his brother who commanded a regiment; and there he\r\nalso died.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, we three desire much to see these hills, for, as you know, the\r\nsahibs consider greatly the finding of strange lands and of strange\r\npeoples.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd of these hills and of the people who must live in them because\r\nof the white man my great-grandfather\xe2\x80\x99s brother saw, there is nothing\r\nknown either to the people living around the desert or even to the\r\nsahibs who have travelled in this part.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut it may be that my great-grandfather\xe2\x80\x99s brother dreamt this thing,\r\nor it may be that he was out of his senses with fever. If so we shall\r\nhave a long hard journey for nothing, and we also may come to die of\r\nthirst, even as his men did.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOr if we get there, we may find that the people are as the Mahsuds or\r\nWazirs of the Punjab border, and we may be attacked and perhaps slain.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, all this we have told you that, before it is too late, you may\r\nyet say whether you will come with us or not. For it is not the custom\r\nof the sahibs to take men into danger unless those men be willing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf you consider that you would rather return to the Punjab, you\r\nshall have money and papers, and shall go back to-morrow. But we are\r\ndetermined to go on and see what there is to be seen. We have said\r\nnothing to any man till now, because had it been known others might\r\nhave followed, and we do not wish any one to find this land until we\r\nhave seen it with our own eyes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWithout hesitation Payindah replied:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFor ten years have I followed Lake sahib, since he was a _chota_ sahib\r\nin the regiment. I have fought with him in three campaigns, and do\r\nI leave his service now that he goes into a new country? If God has\r\ndecreed that we be swallowed by the sands or die of thirst or perchance\r\nbe slain--well, we shall, whether we go on or whether we go back.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd so say I,\xe2\x80\x9d chimed in Firoz. \xe2\x80\x9cFor twelve years have I been with\r\nsahibs, and for seven years have I served Wrexham sahib, and whither\r\nhe goes, there go I, too, till he casts me out. _We_ are not like the\r\nmen who went with his great-uncle, doubtless sons of Hindustan from\r\nDelhi or elsewhere such as were found in Jan Kampni\xe2\x80\x99s[3] regiments, or\r\nperchance knaves such as the Ladakhi cook. We be Awans of the Punjab,\r\nPayindah and I, and as for there being Mahsuds or such in these hills\r\nthat the sahib\xe2\x80\x99s great-uncle saw, _we_ have spoken with Mahsuds and\r\nWazirs--aye, with Mohmands also, and they did not talk too loudly. Do I\r\nnot speak truth, Payindah?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWithout doubt. Rememberest also certain Germani in Farance the day thy\r\nsahib got that love token on his cheek. They were bigger than Mahsuds,\r\nand we were but a few among many. But they fell down very quickly when\r\nwe spoke to them with bayonets, not knowing their foul talk. And my\r\nbayonet was already broken, I recall.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was as thou sayest. That Germani sergeant had a stout breast-bone.\r\nWrexham sahib says that his people thirst after seeing new lands. But,\r\nas the sahibs know, we of the Punjab are not children to play about the\r\nhouse-door always. We also like seeing new lands. My own grandfather\r\nwent up into Tibet with a sahib not long after the Mutiny.\xe2\x80\x9d Firoz\r\nbroke off his string of reminiscences. \xe2\x80\x9cWhither the sahibs go, thither\r\nwe also come.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWith Sadiq it was not quite so easy. He feared the desert not a little,\r\nbut the promise of extra baksheesh finally allayed his fears. Also, the\r\nprospect of finding new places which might have treasure--the dream of\r\nso many of his folk--was perhaps alluring. Anyway, after pondering a\r\nbit, he said he would come.\r\n\r\nNext morning we started early again, and made good progress once more,\r\nthough by now the dunes were growing in height, up to twenty-five to\r\nthirty-five feet. We remarked that both to right and left they seemed\r\nhigher still, but that may only have been the effect of looking out\r\nto the horizon. That day we made sixteen miles, for the higher dunes\r\nexacted their toll in the day\xe2\x80\x99s march, although actually the pace did\r\nnot seem much slower.\r\n\r\nOn the way Wrexham looked in vain for the place where he had found\r\nthe dead man. The continually shifting sand-dunes left no chance of\r\nlocating any spot not marked by some definite permanent feature, such\r\nas a clump of dead trees. By now the man\xe2\x80\x99s bones or his mummified\r\nbody were doubtless buried under the sands, perhaps to show up again\r\ncenturies hence.\r\n\r\nThat night we looked out from a high dune--nearly fifty feet it must\r\nhave been--over our route of next day, and saw that the dunes ahead\r\nwere bigger than those we had crossed so far, and the sky, which had\r\nhitherto been cloudless, showed windy streakings to the northeast.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarder going to-morrow, I think,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, pointing to the\r\nwind-clouds on the horizon.\r\n\r\nSure enough, next morning at dawn a strong northeast wind was blowing,\r\nand everything was smothered in sand. Our tea was full of it, our food\r\nwas gritty with it, and our hair and our clothes ran sand.\r\n\r\nThe dunes were higher now; fifty to sixty feet was about the average,\r\nand still we had the impression that our route was lower than the\r\nsurrounding country. We covered only thirteen miles that day owing\r\nto the wind, the sand devils, and the heavier going and higher dunes.\r\nOur faces were masks of sand and perspiration, and we looked out with\r\nsand-reddened eyes under sand-whitened eyebrows.\r\n\r\nThat night we had to give the camels, who were showing signs of\r\nfatigue, a small water ration from our precious store. While we were\r\nwatering them, Sadiq came up to suggest our turning back the next day.\r\nThere could be no ruins in this wilderness of sand, he said, and there\r\nwas not a vestige of a sign of any hills. But, if we would go back, he\r\nknew a man who had found really first-class ruins, and if we wanted\r\nmountains--well, there were lashings of them quite close to the trade\r\nroute. Finding us obdurate, he gave up his endeavours, but I could see\r\nthat he was convinced that all sanity had departed from us, and was\r\ndoubtless entreating Allah to turn us back soon.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTo-morrow evening, anyway, we ought to get the first view of the snow,\r\nprovided that the air clears a bit,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, as we sat in the\r\nstuffy tent with the flies laced up, trying to eat food that was not\r\nmore than one third sand.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf there _is_ any snow in the world,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, whose eyes seemed\r\nto have suffered more than ours from the driving gritty wind. \xe2\x80\x9cI had an\r\nidea that the dust of Mespot was the last word, but it\xe2\x80\x99s only toilet\r\npowder compared to this article.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe ruefully scraped the top of his _chupatti_, hoping to get below the\r\nouter layers of sand.\r\n\r\nThe following morning the wind was less, but it freshened again later.\r\nThe dunes were now great billows sloping up to seventy and eighty feet,\r\nand taxed the camels severely. Still we pushed on, struggling hour\r\nafter hour, through the heavy loose sand among the little spumes and\r\nfountains that danced and tossed on the brinks of the dunes where the\r\ncutting wind beat into our faces. When we halted that evening, after\r\ndoing thirteen miles, the wind was perhaps a little less, but all\r\naround the horizon was veiled and grey with sand.\r\n\r\nNext day the going was as bad--dunes up to nearly one hundred feet\r\nin places--and the wind stronger, while about midday the father and\r\nmother of all dust-storms came on, one of the kind that makes you think\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99s midnight in Hades. For an hour we sat huddled up in the lee of a\r\ndune, a circle of dumb men and dumb beasts, under the biting lash of a\r\nsand-laden wind that seemed to flow past like some torrent of grit. The\r\ntwo Punjabis had swathed their faces in the ends of their _pagris_, and\r\nthe rest of us buried ours as well as we could in the big collars of\r\nour _poshtins_.\r\n\r\nIt passed at last, but it was another hour ere we thought it was worth\r\ngoing on. Nine miles was all we made that day, and some of the dunes\r\nmust have been over one hundred and twenty feet high.\r\n\r\nThe camels were showing clearly their weariness and lack of water, as\r\nthey swayed along slowly, with lack-lustre eyes, dragging gait, and\r\nheavy breathing through distended nostrils. That night again we had to\r\ngive them some more of our precious water, and it became clear that,\r\nunless we could get some definite proof of hills in front within the\r\nnext thirty-six hours there could be no question of going on.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps we shall get a fine day to-morrow,\xe2\x80\x9d said the ever-optimistic\r\nWrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI want to see the snow the diary talks about.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf ever I see snow or water again, I shall go and lie in them and\r\nrefuse to move again till all the sand I\xe2\x80\x99ve absorbed these last\r\nforty-eight hours is washed right out of my system,\xe2\x80\x9d snorted Forsyth,\r\nbathing his sore eyes in half a teacupful of water.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, I hope you\xe2\x80\x99ll see some to-morrow, though it will be a bit far\r\noff for bathing. It\xe2\x80\x99s still absolutely hidden by sand to-night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nNext day the wind had dropped, though a heavy dust haze still hung\r\nin the air. Like the previous day, the dunes were great high slopes,\r\nanything from eighty to one hundred feet. But the cessation of the wind\r\nmade going easier, and the thinning atmosphere made us hopeful of a\r\nglimpse of the promised hills.\r\n\r\nBy the midday halt the sky was pretty clear all round, save in the one\r\ndirection we wanted to see, and there, instead of our hills, was a\r\nheavy bank of cloud. Wrexham and I sat down despondently on the high\r\ndune up which we had climbed while Payindah was getting out some food,\r\nand looked out with our glasses at the distant clouds. We scanned each\r\nlittle bit of the bank, seeking in vain for the white glint of snow.\r\n\r\nSuddenly Wrexham gripped my shoulder.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook there, Harry! Just in the middle of that dark bit like a camel\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhump. Isn\xe2\x80\x99t that something white?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhich one?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe pointed, but I couldn\xe2\x80\x99t make out anything.\r\n\r\nThen he laid the telescope on it and bade me look.\r\n\r\nI looked through the glass, and there, sure enough, just below the dark\r\ncloud showed a faint whiteness that might be cloud or might be--could\r\nit be?--the longed-for snow.\r\n\r\nThe cloud-bank was slowly changing in shape from moment to moment. The\r\nbig dark cloud that Wrexham had indicated was slowly moving to one\r\nside. But the white patch seemed not to shift. Then for a fleeting\r\ninstant it showed clear, a sharp point of blue-veined white that could\r\nbe no cloud.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think you\xe2\x80\x99re right, John,\xe2\x80\x9d I said as I sat up. \xe2\x80\x9cLook!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe glued his eye to the telescope, gave a whoop, hurriedly fished out\r\nhis compass, and laid it on the line of the telescope.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSee,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, \xe2\x80\x9cbearing of fifty-six degrees. We\xe2\x80\x99re not far out, old\r\nman, and if that\xe2\x80\x99s not snow, then I\xe2\x80\x99ve never seen it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe shouted at the top of our voices to Forsyth below, \xe2\x80\x9cSnow! _Snow!_\r\nSNOW!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe came up the slope as fast as the sand would let him, and got just a\r\nglimpse before the clouds veiled it again, a faint, tiny peak like a\r\ndistant pearl in the dark mass of clouds. Then the heavy masses veiled\r\nit once more, and it disappeared from our gaze.\r\n\r\nOne more entry of the old diary was verified. We felt almost reckless\r\nnow, though there must be many marches ahead, and our fatigue fell\r\nfrom us like a wet blanket as we glissaded down the sand-slope among\r\nthe men. The two Punjabis seemed to take it as all in the day\xe2\x80\x99s work.\r\nDoubtless if we expected snow ahead, there would be snow. They were of\r\nthe pre-war type, with a prodigious belief in anything their sahibs\r\nsaid.\r\n\r\nIn a short while the wind had sprung up again, and we travelled on over\r\nthe same high wind-tossed dunes of yellow grey sand. As much of the\r\nsky as was visible showed broken wisps of cloud. I remarked on this to\r\nWrexham, and wondered whether there was any chance of rain. Such rainy\r\nseason as there is in the desert was practically finished.\r\n\r\nWe were just going up the highest dune we had yet struck, a toilsome\r\neffort, when the question of rain arose. As we got to the top, Wrexham\r\nstopped and looked ahead. The wind had dropped a little once more.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s that?\xe2\x80\x9d he said, pointing; \xe2\x80\x9cit looks like rock.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked in the direction he indicated, and there, about a mile ahead,\r\nwhat seemed to be a low hillock of rock, dark in colour, broke the\r\nmonotony of the grey landscape.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c_Is_ rock, I think,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cIf so, it will be a pleasant change to\r\ncamping on sand.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSeems as if we must have got on to the line the great-great-uncle\r\nfollowed on his way back.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s quaint finding an outcrop like that in the middle of the desert.\r\nI suppose it must be a peak in the buried strata that joins the hills\r\non either side. Let\xe2\x80\x99s go on and see what it is.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPushing ahead, we climbed to the top of the rocky hill, and to our\r\namazement found a sort of rock basin perhaps three hundred yards long\r\nby fifty to sixty yards broad with jagged edges of limestone. It looked\r\nfor all the world what it probably was, the top of a long ridge which\r\nhad either broken through the earth at some prehistoric period, or else\r\nbeen gradually silted up on all sides as the sand encroached. It stood\r\nperhaps one hundred feet above the tops of the highest dunes, and on a\r\nclear day must have been a fine vantage point.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA few hours\xe2\x80\x99 heavy rain would make that into a good thing in lakes,\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\nsaid.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes,\xe2\x80\x9d replied Wrexham; \xe2\x80\x9cyou can see there has been water upon\r\noccasion. Look at that thin layer of clay in the middle with the cracks\r\nin it. I vote we camp here to-night. We can\xe2\x80\x99t do much more to-day, and\r\nthis is better than settling down in the sand. We shall be out of the\r\nworst of it at this height, and if by any chance there is rain we stand\r\nmore chance of collecting some than among the sand-dunes. Not that I\r\nhave much hopes, because the rainfall in these parts at this time of\r\nyear is about two hundredths of an inch in the month.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe camels had halted at the foot of the hill, so we shouted down to\r\nForsyth to bring them up, and presently we were all busy setting up\r\ncamp for the night except Wrexham, who went wandering round the rocky\r\nbasin. I wondered what he was doing, and when presently I saw him\r\nsitting down with a notebook I went up and asked him what he was at.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was just calculating the size of this hollow. It\xe2\x80\x99s a fine natural\r\ncatchment area, as it slopes inward on every side except just the\r\nnarrow south end, where it\xe2\x80\x99s broken away. It forms a regular sort of\r\ntrough. That probably explains why it\xe2\x80\x99s so comparatively free of sand.\r\nThe only sand that gets in is that blown up high by the wind, and then\r\nthe prevailing wind sweeps it out at the south end again. If that end\r\nwas blocked now and it did rain, we could catch enough water to give\r\nthe camels a decent drink.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen let\xe2\x80\x99s do it,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s just why I was figuring out the area. I make out that, if\r\nthe end was blocked, this would give a yield of something like three\r\nhundred gallons from a couple of hours\xe2\x80\x99 decent rain. Say two hundred,\r\nallowing for what would be sucked up by cracks. It wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t require\r\nmuch of a stop at the end either, since the open part is narrow and the\r\nslope very gradual.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, let\xe2\x80\x99s do it quick. It would make all the difference to the\r\ncamels if they could get a real drink. They\xe2\x80\x99ve done well so far, but\r\nthere\xe2\x80\x99s no mistake about it they\xe2\x80\x99re beginning to tire fast.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe got all hands on to it, and blocked up the end of the long, shallow,\r\ntrough-like hill with stones mixed with loose sand. Not a very\r\nwaterproof dam, but it might hold once it got wet.\r\n\r\nThen we sat down to wait for the rain. But none came, and at last\r\nwe retired to bed, uncheered even by another glimpse of the distant\r\nsnow. The air was still heavy with sand, and, though the little vistas\r\nof sky that we could see among the whirling dust were covered with\r\nlead-coloured clouds, never a grateful drop fell.\r\n\r\nThat night we figured out that we should have to push on now, and\r\ntrust to finding water at the end, or else turn back next day. The\r\nwater--although it would have been just sufficient for men for the\r\ndouble journey--allowed nothing for the camels, and we had had to give\r\nthem water, and realized now that they would have to be given more in\r\nfuture. It was three very grave-faced, unshaven men who sat discussing\r\nby the light of the hurricane-lamp.\r\n\r\nSaid Wrexham finally:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf we start back to-morrow we\xe2\x80\x99ve just the minimum to get us home. If\r\nwe go on--assuming that we\xe2\x80\x99ve passed the halfway line--we may just get\r\nto the hills as we finish our water. Then, if we don\xe2\x80\x99t find it, or if\r\nthe great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s stream has dried up--we\xe2\x80\x99re done, finished.\r\nApart from water, we\xe2\x80\x99re chancing things a bit over the camels\xe2\x80\x99 grub for\r\ngetting back.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked at us as though seeking our thoughts, and for a moment or two\r\nneither of us spoke. Then I made up my mind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPersonally I\xe2\x80\x99m for pushing on,\xe2\x80\x9d said I; \xe2\x80\x9csome of the loads are getting\r\nlighter now, and, if any full-load camels show signs of crocking up, we\r\ncan put the empty tanks on them. There\xe2\x80\x99s certainly snow ahead, and that\r\n_must_ mean water, and water will mean grazing for the camels. Also, if\r\nwe go back now, we\xe2\x80\x99ve given the whole show away.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes,\xe2\x80\x9d put in Forsyth; \xe2\x80\x9cand next time we start everybody would know\r\nwhat was up. Even if the Punjabis kept their mouths shut, Sadiq would\r\ntalk. That snow is not on the map, and the next explorer fellow who\r\ncame along would be sure to have a shot at it. I\xe2\x80\x99m in favour of our\r\ntaking the chance of water and going on. Your uncle\xe2\x80\x99s story points to\r\nall sorts of things worth finding, and it\xe2\x80\x99s working out truer every\r\nday.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, most of it seems to have been substantiated now,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cJohn\r\nfound a similar kind of man, we\xe2\x80\x99ve seen the snow--unmistakable snow\r\nto my mind, though far off; and last, we\xe2\x80\x99ve found one of the peculiar\r\noutcrops of rock he mentioned seeing on his return. There are too\r\nmany coincidences about it for me to want to turn back.\xe2\x80\x9d I turned to\r\nWrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m all for shoving on, John, and Alec is, too.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen, if you two are for pushing on, that settles it. I\xe2\x80\x99d no ideas of\r\ngoing back myself--I think we\xe2\x80\x99re intended to go on; but, since we are\r\nchancing our luck badly over this water question, I thought I ought to\r\nfind out your ideas first.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe turned in then, after a last lookout to see if anything could be\r\nseen of the sky. The wind was still blowing up sand, but such patches\r\nof sky as were visible seemed not quite so cloudy, and here and there a\r\nstar showed through the murk.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo luck, I\xe2\x80\x99m afraid,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, as I crawled into my valise. \xe2\x80\x9cHowever,\r\nit looks clearer, and should be better going to-morrow.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI hope the dunes get lower. They ought to, for we must be leaving\r\nthe middle of the desert now; I figure we\xe2\x80\x99ve done over eighty miles.\r\nIt was about seventy yesterday, and we did quite twelve to-day. Lord,\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99m sleepy! Night, night!\xe2\x80\x9d Wrexham curled up into his blankets, and\r\nwas asleep almost at once, and within five minutes Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s heavy\r\nbreathing showed that he, too, had slipped into dreamland.\r\n\r\nTired though I was, it was some little time before I got to sleep that\r\nnight. I\xe2\x80\x99m not given to pessimistic forebodings, but I could not help\r\nwondering, as I lay awake in the dark, whether we were wise in going\r\non. Things look so different when you think them out by yourself in the\r\ndark from what they seem in the light in company. However, I do believe\r\nin Providence very firmly, and the coincidences we had met and heard\r\nof in this quest seemed too marked for me to disbelieve. So, finally\r\npushing my doubts firmly into the background, I fell asleep to the\r\nwhistling music of the sand-laden wind outside.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VII\r\n\r\nTHE DISTANT HILLS\r\n\r\n\r\nIt must have been about four in the morning that I woke, with the same\r\nsort of feeling of something being different as you have when a ship\r\nstops at night, and the absence of the engines\xe2\x80\x99 murmur, which kept you\r\nawake the first night or two, now wakes you up seeking the accustomed\r\nsound.\r\n\r\nThen I realized that the wind had stopped. I unlaced the tent flies to\r\nsee if the sky was cloudy or clear, but as I came out I heard a rushing\r\nsound and a gust beat on the tent as if it would tear it from its pegs.\r\nA thick whirl of sand filled the air, and the rush of it woke the\r\nothers.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s up?\xe2\x80\x9d called out Wrexham as I struggled with the flies.\r\n\r\nI explained as best I could, and while doing so smelt the unmistakable\r\nfresh smell of rain.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy Jove, I believe it\xe2\x80\x99s rain coming up!\xe2\x80\x9d I called out, and pulled the\r\nflies apart again. The wind dropped, and was succeeded by a steady\r\npatter on the tent wall.\r\n\r\nIt got harder and harder and steadier and steadier, and we heard the\r\nmen stirring.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome on!\xe2\x80\x9d called Wrexham, \xe2\x80\x9call hands outside with every d----d pot and\r\npan you can get and see if we can fill \xe2\x80\x99em.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBy the light of the rain-dimmed hurricane-lamp I could see Firoz\r\nspreading out the cooking-pots, and Payindah taking advantage of the\r\nwind stopping to peg out a waterproof-sheet. Cold as it was, we stood\r\nout in the rain for the sheer pleasure of feeling the sand being washed\r\noff our faces and our skins expanding again. Our scanty water ration\r\nhad allowed nothing for washing. It rained more or less continuously\r\nfor nearly two hours, and stopped just as the dawn was breaking.\r\n\r\nAfter it had gone on for a quarter of an hour or so, we three, with\r\nFiroz carrying our two spades and a pick, went to the far end where we\r\nhad made the dam.\r\n\r\nWe already found a thin trickle of water reaching it and apparently\r\nbeing sucked up by the sand. But a little later the dam had bound\r\ntogether, and we stood there in the rain watching with delighted eyes\r\nthe growth of a small black pool that spread and spread until the end\r\nof it passed out of the misty halo of light. Wrexham stayed there till\r\ndawn like a Dutchman saving a dyke, getting up at intervals with Firoz\r\nto heap more and more sand on to the outer and upper sides of his dam.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot bad calculations,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, when the growing dawn revealed to us\r\na pool of water--somewhat sandy, but still water--some thirty feet\r\nlong, as much as three feet wide in places, and nearly a foot deep in\r\nthe middle of the deepest pool. \xe2\x80\x9cI should say there was at least one\r\nhundred and fifty gallons there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nOur first care was to fill up every utensil we had, and from them,\r\nstraining through several thicknesses of cloth, to replenish all the\r\ntanks. Then we gave the camels as much as they could swallow. You could\r\nalmost see the poor beasts swelling as they drank. Even after that\r\nthere was a certain amount left, rather sandy and muddy.\r\n\r\nWrexham looked at it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf I thought that would last the day, I would suggest stopping here\r\ntill to-morrow to give the camels a rest and another drink, but what\r\ndoesn\xe2\x80\x99t evaporate will soak through the dam, so it would be no score.\r\nWe\xe2\x80\x99d better use what\xe2\x80\x99s left for a bath.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo we did, and felt new men once more. The two Punjabis followed, but\r\nSadiq, beyond washing his face and hands, did not appear interested.\r\nThe removal of the sand crust from his face seemed quite enough\r\nablutions in his estimation. We started rather later than usual, and,\r\nalthough the rain had ceased, the sky was yet heavy with clouds. The\r\nair was clear, but there was no great visibility in the horizon.\r\n\r\nOnce we left the rock where we had camped, the rain seemed to have\r\nmade little difference to the sands, save that the upper surface was\r\nsomewhat caked, but it was refreshing to breathe air that was air and\r\nnot part sand. There was only a gentle breeze, and it was free from the\r\nirritating particles that we had been breathing for the last few days.\r\nThe dunes were still very high, despite Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s opinion that they\r\nought to be getting lower. I estimated that the majority of them were\r\nlittle under eighty feet in height most of that day. There was a very\r\nslight steaminess in the air as the sun warmed, but as the sky cleared\r\nwe began to see farther and farther.\r\n\r\nMen and beasts alike stepped out briskly, for the downpour had put new\r\nlife into us all. As we went, we climbed each fresh dune in the hope\r\nof seeing a new glimpse of the hills in front, but for a long time saw\r\nnothing beyond the desert\xe2\x80\x99s yellow edge. A thick bank of cloud still\r\nhung to the northeast, although the sky above us was by now clear blue.\r\n\r\nWe halted about one o\xe2\x80\x99clock, and it was after that, as the sun began to\r\nstart down on his journey westward, that we were rewarded by our first\r\nview of the hills. Forsyth was the first to draw our attention to the\r\nclouds to the northeast having thinned considerably, and a little later\r\nPayindah called to me as we topped a dune. Wrexham was down in the dip\r\nin front.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook, sahib, those be surely hills in front!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked, and there was a rift in the cloud-bank that had baffled us\r\nall day, and in it showed hills, real, unmistakable, blue-shadowed\r\nhills, such as one sees from the northern stations of India as you look\r\nout over the sunburnt expanse of plain. They were a long way off--forty\r\nor fifty miles, I estimated--although in the clean, rain-washed air\r\nthey looked closer with the sun falling directly upon them. These must\r\nbe the hills below the high snow we had seen.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSurely, Payindah, hills like the hills of the Punjab.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI called to Wrexham breasting the slope ahead with the leading camels:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHills, John! Hills ahead!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe stopped as I called, and then, as my words reached him, he broke\r\ninto something like a run up the steep slope and stopped. Then I saw\r\nhis glasses come out. I slithered down the dune I was on, and raced up\r\nto him, picking up Forsyth as I went.\r\n\r\nThe clouds were thinning even as I looked, and presently there\r\nstretched before us to right and left a long wall of hills, faint\r\nheather colour, below a long veil of clouds.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98What I had sought all day in vain, the faint lilae haze below the\r\nwhite that I have noted marks always the lower hills below high snow,\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nsaid Wrexham, quoting from his great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s diary. \xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99ve found\r\nthem, after all! Thank God, we didn\xe2\x80\x99t turn back. I think that rain must\r\nhave been sent on purpose.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham is not what you would call a religious man in the strict sense\r\nof the word, but I think--and I know him well--that under his very\r\npractical and somewhat materialistic exterior is a very strong belief\r\nin a Creator who takes an active interest in His creation. But that was\r\nthe first time I had ever heard him make such a definite confession of\r\nhis faith, sure sign of his being deeply moved. We stood in silence a\r\nspace, and up behind us climbed the camels and stopped, too. Even Sadiq\r\nwas convinced now, as he stood looking out on the far hills, the first\r\nof his people to have faced the desert and seen what lay on the far\r\nside.\r\n\r\nForsyth was the first to break the silence.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow far do you say they are, John?\xe2\x80\x9d he asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnything from forty miles upwards; impossible to tell from here. When\r\nwe camp I\xe2\x80\x99ll plot some kind of a base-line and see if I can get an\r\nestimate. But the main point is that now we _know_ we can reach them.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe led off again down the slope, and we continued the march. Owing to\r\nour late start and the high dunes, we made but ten miles that day, but\r\nwe camped with joyous hearts. The cloud-cap still hung over the hills,\r\nbut seemed to be thinning toward sunset.\r\n\r\nThe tent was up, and Firoz busy with the evening meal, when Wrexham,\r\nwho had been taking bearings from two dunes nearly a mile apart and was\r\nnow at work on a rise above us, called to Forsyth and me sitting by the\r\ntent.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuick, you two! The clouds are lifting, and you can see the snow.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe ran up to the top where he stood, and there, above the hills which\r\nshowed sharp and clear--a long jagged wall--we could see to one side\r\nof the centre a patch of white below the clouds. A minute or two later\r\nthese rolled off it, and there, stabbing the sky with two sharp-toothed\r\npeaks, was a great snow mountain vivid in the low rays of the westering\r\nsun. The last clouds lifted ere the sun went down as though to give us\r\na full view.\r\n\r\nThe mountain rose in a long swell, not unlike a camel\xe2\x80\x99s back, from the\r\ncentre of the wall of lower hills, and after rising gently for some\r\nway sheered up steeper in a high wall of snow topped with two great\r\npeaks with a sharp dip between. The snow-line lay considerably below\r\nthe bases of the peaks, which looked like the horns on the head of some\r\ngigantic beast. Below the snow was faint blue haze that told us that\r\nthe mountain was a considerable distance behind the low hills we had\r\nfirst seen, since these stood out clear and sharp.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat mountain is on no map in the world,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham as he took its\r\nbearing. \xe2\x80\x9cYou remember all this part and several hundred miles on it\r\nis empty desert even on the latest maps. We shall have the pleasure of\r\nnaming a new mountain among our other finds. It\xe2\x80\x99s high, too--I should\r\nsay twelve thousand or thirteen thousand feet, at least--to show snow\r\nat this time of year so low as that. What shall we call it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think we\xe2\x80\x99d better wait till we get there. The white-skinned people\r\nhave probably got a name already.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wonder if it will be a name redolent of old Greece,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps one of the goddesses of old times. Anyway, if it hasn\xe2\x80\x99t, I\xe2\x80\x99m\r\nfor giving it something a d----d sight more poetic than K2 or K5 or\r\nany other of the beastly insults that the Survey of India put on some\r\nof the most beautiful things in the world. Even the unpoetic Indian\r\ntreats them better than that. Nanga Parbat is at least graceful.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe lady blushes at the suggestion,\xe2\x80\x9d I said. \xe2\x80\x9cLook, really blushes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nThe sun had just sunk below the horizon, and the great peaks ahead,\r\nstill catching the rays now hidden to us, turned rose-colour, then\r\ndarker red, then faded to purple, and last cold blue. A minute later\r\nthey were but a white patch against the opal sky, and then they had\r\ndisappeared.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe thinks your remarks are flippant and has veiled herself, Forsyth,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nI continued.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, what about a meal if Wrexham has done his calculations? The\r\nlower hills, too, are fading fast now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe moved back to the tent, and while Payindah was bringing food Wrexham\r\ntold us how his calculations had worked out. By his reckoning the hills\r\nshould be about fifty-odd miles away: the low hills, of course, not the\r\nsnow-peak which was not showing when he had taken his bearings from the\r\ntwo ends of his base-line. The fifth day from now should, therefore,\r\nsee us at the foot, reckoning on twelve miles a day average if we\r\nstarted early each morning.\r\n\r\nDuring the next three days we did thirty-eight miles, and as we went\r\nthe dunes began to get lower, and by the evening of the second day, the\r\nninth day of our march, were not more than thirty feet high. The desert\r\nwas ever the same, greyish sand-dunes, now wind-tossed once more, for\r\nthe wind had risen again, though not with the same violence that had\r\nmarked the earlier days of our journey.\r\n\r\nOn the evening of the ninth day the snow-peak had sunk much lower,\r\nfrom which we were the more convinced that it lay some way behind the\r\nlong wall of rock which now filled all our northeast horizon. Wrexham\r\nmeasured it again, and made us out twenty-three miles from the near\r\nhills, somewhat more than his last estimate had been, taken at much\r\nover double the distance. The snow mountain he considered at least\r\nfifty miles beyond the first hills.\r\n\r\nOn the eleventh day we did a good march, covering thirteen miles,\r\nthanks to much lower dunes. Not bad going for the camels, who were\r\nvery done by now from want of grazing and water. In the afternoon we\r\nremarked some distance away to our right another bit of rock formation,\r\nand Forsyth was for making for it. He said it must be the line that was\r\nmentioned in the diary. Wrexham at first considered it would be better\r\nto stick to our original bearing which had done us so well. Then, since\r\ngoing was now easy and the rock formation not more than a couple of\r\nmiles off our line, we decided to head for it. It added a little to\r\nthe march, but nothing noticeable. As we got near, we could see that\r\nthe hill was somewhat higher and longer than the last, as, indeed, one\r\nwould expect, it being nearer to the main chain. It must have been one\r\nhundred and sixty to one hundred and seventy feet above the surrounding\r\nsand.\r\n\r\nAs we got closer, Forsyth and I pushed on ahead, climbing up it some\r\nway in front of the rest, and, to our surprise, as we neared the top, a\r\ncouple of birds flew up. This first sign of life after eleven days of\r\nbarren, lifeless desert was a pleasant find, and made us feel that we\r\nhad surmounted the first lap of our difficulties, and that, whatever\r\nlay before us, at least we were in habitable country once more.\r\n\r\nThis formation differed from the last in being a razor-back all along\r\nwith no central depression. Clearly we should have to camp at the foot\r\nof it. But it would give us a fine view of the hills from which to plan\r\nthe morrow\xe2\x80\x99s march.\r\n\r\nBut our greatest surprise was when Forsyth climbed to the crest line\r\nand then shouted to me:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWater below, Harry; real water!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI hurried after him, and he pointed out to me a thin shining line about\r\nhalf a mile away, a little ribbon of silver in the glaring sands, a\r\nribbon that seemed to lead away toward the hills, which now, only about\r\nten miles distant, towered up like a giant wall, steep and apparently\r\nunscaleable. The previous evening Wrexham had estimated their height\r\nat not less than two thousand feet. From here they looked, as, indeed,\r\nthey proved to be in many places, even more, and as far as one could\r\nsee sheer cliffs of scarped rocks, with only a short expanse of tumbled\r\nslope at their feet. They gave one the impression of springing straight\r\nout of the desert sands.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat must be the great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s little stream, and somewhere at\r\nthe end of it should be his valley,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, as he sat down and\r\nlit a cigarette, a form of luxury that was drawing near its close.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis gives one almost an aeroplane view, doesn\xe2\x80\x99t it? Can you see any\r\nsigns of life yonder--fields or houses or anything?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI had got out my glasses on reaching the top, and while he was speaking\r\nwas studying the distant hills, but could see nothing whatever that\r\nlooked like signs of human habitation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan\xe2\x80\x99t see any. It looks all as barren as the Aden coast, and not\r\nunlike it with these rocks springing clear out of the sand. Toss you\r\nwho goes down and sends John up here and then leads the camels round to\r\nthe stream.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRight-o!\xe2\x80\x9d Forsyth pulled a coin out of his pocket and spun it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHeads,\xe2\x80\x9d I called.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHeads it is. What am I to do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGo down and send John up. Tell him about the stream, and then lead the\r\ncamels round to it below where we are now. The south side will be the\r\nshortest way.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBefore he got to the bottom of the slope, he met Wrexham starting up,\r\nexplained the lie of the land, and then led the camels off while John\r\njoined me on top.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYour uncle\xe2\x80\x99s stream unless I\xe2\x80\x99m a Dutchman,\xe2\x80\x9d I said, pointing. \xe2\x80\x9cWe can\r\ncamp by water to-night, thank goodness.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham looked down without speaking. Then he turned to me.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cConsidering we marched on a guesswork bearing calculated from a vague\r\nentry in a hundred-year-old diary, it\xe2\x80\x99s unfair to call it chance.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I don\xe2\x80\x99t think there\xe2\x80\x99s much chance about it. Not that there really\r\nis about anything, for that matter, to my way of thinking.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSometimes, especially when things go crooked, one feels that it\xe2\x80\x99s all\r\nchance, that the only controlling hand is one vast mocking deity or\r\nfate; but, generally, if you look back afterwards, you see that there\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nbeen method in it all through, although at the time there seemed to be\r\nnone unless it were malevolent. After all, we are but shuttles, and as\r\nwe drive our way through the loom there doesn\xe2\x80\x99t seem much sense in the\r\nwhole thing, the steady monotony, over and under, over and under. But\r\nlater, when perhaps we\xe2\x80\x99re laid on the rack for a space and can see the\r\npattern as a whole, we realize how the apparently aimless movements\r\neach had their part to play in the finished pattern of beauty that the\r\nweaver had intended.\r\n\r\nAs we were speaking, the first of the gaunt, weary camels came round\r\nthe corner of the hill below us, and we watched them pacing slowly\r\nalong till they came to the bank of the stream, then stopped and buried\r\ntheir muzzles in the water.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNice to camp by running water again. I wonder where it goes to,\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\nsaid.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSwallowed up in the sand, I fancy, before very far,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan you see if there is any valley at the far end in the hills?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was looking for that as you came up, but I can\xe2\x80\x99t see any break. If\r\nthere is one, it must be very narrow. But you remember, according to\r\nthe diary, it is narrow, and I doubt if you could see it from here\r\nunless there was a big dip in the cliffs.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s a long line of shadow that looks as if it might be something,\r\nbut, as you say, it\xe2\x80\x99s hard to make out from here. One thing is pretty\r\nclear, that the people, if there are people, can\xe2\x80\x99t live below the\r\nhills. I can\xe2\x80\x99t make out a single vestige of a field or even a tree, and\r\nthe hills themselves look absolutely bare.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cProbably such vegetation as there is on this first ridge is on the\r\nother side. You see that very markedly sometimes in hills. One side\r\nquite bare and the other all green,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, anyway, here we are at the entrance or somewhere near it, and\r\nthe next thing is how are we going to get in?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99d better push on to-morrow morning and get up to the cliffs, and\r\nthen start looking round for the valley with the gateway. There\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nnothing to be seen from here, so our best course is to follow straight\r\nup the stream to wherever it runs into the hills. You remember your\r\ngreat-great-uncle travelled nearly three days skirting them before he\r\nfound a way in at all.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTrue. Our best course will certainly be the stream. And now we\xe2\x80\x99d\r\nbetter get down to camp and look over things for to-morrow. There\xe2\x80\x99s no\r\nmore need for the compass, anyway. I\xe2\x80\x99m jolly tired of marching on it\r\nall day.\xe2\x80\x9d Wrexham led away down the rock slope, and I followed.\r\n\r\nAfter dinner we sat outside and listened to the pleasant ripple of the\r\nlittle stream in the starry stillness. The wind had dropped entirely\r\nand the air was clear, so that we could see the sharp outline of the\r\nhills against the sky.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTo-morrow we shall know our fate, more or less,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, \xe2\x80\x9cas to\r\nwhether we can get into these hills peacefully or not. But I think we\r\nought to be prepared for possible trouble, so a couple of us had better\r\nwork ahead. There\xe2\x80\x99s no difficulty about keeping our direction, since\r\nall we\xe2\x80\x99ve got to do is to follow the stream. What do you think, Harry?\r\nYou\xe2\x80\x99re the professional soldier man.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite agree. I think, if I and Payindah keep half a mile or so ahead\r\nand you keep the two camels well closed up, we shall get warning in\r\ntime of any one moving in front. We\xe2\x80\x99re all armed except Sadiq, and he\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nsafer without anything.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf we start at 7.30 A.M. we shall be in the hills before midday, and\r\nthat will give us plenty of time to look around before dark if this is\r\nnot the actual stream we\xe2\x80\x99re looking for, though I feel sure it must be.\r\nA longer rest will do us all good to-night; don\xe2\x80\x99t you think so?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEvery time, John. I shall be d----d glad to feel that I needn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nstir out of bed before six to-morrow, and when I do, that I can get a\r\ndecent wash for once in a way. I\xe2\x80\x99m contemplating shaving, too.\xe2\x80\x9d Forsyth\r\nrubbed his hand over his stubby chin, and then we all remembered our\r\npeculiarly dirty appearance, and then and there decided to commence the\r\nmorrow with a shave, hitherto abandoned owing to lack of water.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t want to enter the promised land of the Gobi Greeks, or whoever\r\nthey may be, with ten days\xe2\x80\x99 stubble on my face,\xe2\x80\x9d continued Forsyth, who\r\nhad some consideration for his personal appearance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; you might meet the Lady Euphrosine at the door,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI\r\nhope you\xe2\x80\x99ve got a string of nice classical compliments ready at the tip\r\nof your tongue.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, if you haven\xe2\x80\x99t it\xe2\x80\x99s not my fault after all the trouble I\xe2\x80\x99ve\r\ntaken with you for the last nine months.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt was true. We had both taken considerable pains with Wrexham day\r\nafter day trying to push Greek into him, and I must say we had\r\nsucceeded passably well in that he could now make shift to read the\r\nlanguage easily. We had brought up a pocket edition of the more famous\r\nclassics and one or two modern books with us, and every day during our\r\nlong journey from India he had spent an hour or two, and sometimes a\r\ngreat deal more, in study. Conversation was, of course, his weak point,\r\nalthough Forsyth and I had endeavoured to make him talk to us in a\r\ncombination of modern idioms and old classical Greek.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe shall look pretty silly if they don\xe2\x80\x99t talk Greek or if they\xe2\x80\x99ve got\r\nsome special brand of their own,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, if they do talk it, it\xe2\x80\x99s sure to be different after all the\r\ncenturies they must have been here. Consider American after a mere\r\nhundred years and a bit. But the basis will probably be unchanged, and\r\npronunciation and idiom can be picked up pretty quickly when you\xe2\x80\x99re\r\nactually among the people. Besides, if they\xe2\x80\x99ve been cut off from the\r\nrest of the world, they will have been saved from new importations from\r\nother tongues, so that the only changes will be definite alterations\r\nof old forms. Some find to take back home for the philologists. I can\r\nsee myself writing a treatise on phonetic changes through the ages in a\r\npure tongue.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt was strange how Forsyth spoke as though we knew the people in those\r\nhills would speak Greek. And yet he only voiced all our thoughts. We\r\nhad long ago ceased to think there was any doubt in the matter, and\r\nonly wondered what sort of a reception we should get and what manner\r\nof life we should find them leading. We speculated a good deal on that\r\npoint, but none of us had any very clear theories. Forsyth favoured\r\nsome kind of city-state, such as he was familiar with from his readings\r\nof the classics. Wrexham, on the other hand, I think, expected to find\r\na mixture of Arabian Nights Bagdad with a prehistoric Pathan village. I\r\nhad no very clear-cut ideas on the point at all.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll tell the men we don\xe2\x80\x99t start till 7.30 to-morrow,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham,\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cand then I vote for bed. We may as well get a good sleep, for Heaven\r\nalone knows whether we shall get one to-morrow night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe went over to the men\xe2\x80\x99s fire, for we found a certain amount of reeds\r\nby the stream brink, and the men had taken the opportunity to make up\r\na fire--a comforting thing to sit over, after the miserable oil-stove\r\nwhich was all we had had for cooking during our desert journey.\r\n\r\nWe turned in a few minutes later, and my last recollection of that\r\nnight is of Wrexham gravely asking Forsyth whether the ancient Greeks\r\nunderstood the \xe2\x80\x9cKamerad\xe2\x80\x9d gesture.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\nTHE GATE\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook, sahib, the hills open in front like a Waziristan _tangi_,\xe2\x80\x9d said\r\nPayindah, pointing.\r\n\r\nIt was getting on for midday, and we had nearly reached the wall of\r\nhills, which now towered, grim and threatening, above us, a long line\r\nof sheer cliff, incredibly high; and, though the face was scarred and\r\nfurrowed, there seemed to be no place where it could be ascended except\r\nin true mountaineering fashion with ropes and other aids.\r\n\r\nNor was there any sign of life in all the expanse of bare brown rock\r\nthat rose before us, not even a wheeling kite in the sky. If life there\r\nwere ahead, it must lie all on the other side of this great barrier\r\nthat stretched away on either hand as far as we could see, merging from\r\ndead lifeless brown to warmer reds and madders and purples, and then\r\nfinally to hazy blues as the distance softened the hard outlines.\r\n\r\nWe two were standing on the edge of the sand looking up a short slope\r\nof rock, tumbled with big boulders and smaller stones that ended\r\nabruptly at the foot of the wall-like cliff. Some half a mile or more\r\nbehind us our string of camels plodded slowly along over the low sand\r\nripples, here only a foot or two in height.\r\n\r\nThe whole scene rather reminded me of the Derajat--the plain that lies\r\nbetween the Indus and Waziristan--save that the hills here were far\r\nmore formidable. Behind us, the expanse of yellow sand, not unlike the\r\nsun-dried soil below the frontier hills. In front, those frowning walls\r\nof rock, and just ahead of me in the white sunlight, Payindah with his\r\nshort _poshtin_, his loose tied khaki _pagri_ round his bobbed black\r\nlocks, his baggy khaki breeches and worn _chaplis_, for all the world\r\nlike any tribal levy man of the Indian border, save that his rifle,\r\neven now after the long march, was spotless, and his bandolier had\r\nbeen new-cleaned overnight. Evidently Payindah, like Forsyth, believed\r\nin first impressions.\r\n\r\nAhead of us, as he said, the little stream--now somewhat wider--ran\r\ninto the rock wall in a narrow cleft, where it vanished.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWouldst like to picket the top?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked, pointing up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWah, what could get up that save a fly?\xe2\x80\x9d said he; and, indeed, I\r\nthink he was about right. It was not often that Payindah admitted\r\nthat anything was out of his power, for he possessed to the full that\r\nboastfulness so characteristic of the Punjabi, a relic, perhaps, of the\r\nold Greek strain from Alexander\xe2\x80\x99s time that the Punjab talks of even to\r\nthis day.\r\n\r\nTravel along the Punjab frontier, yes, and right down into Baluchistan,\r\nand any old ruin, any disused water-channel faced with big stone\r\nblocks, any uncommon feature that might be the work of men, and local\r\nfable will tell you that it was built by the great Sikandar.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, let us push on to the mouth, and then, if we see naught, we will\r\nhalt the camels here,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\nWe went on forward right up to the mouth of the cleft--a narrow\r\nsword-cut such as one meets all along the Indian frontier, but narrower\r\nthan most, perhaps a bare thirty feet from rock wall to rock wall, with\r\nthe babbling stream running in the stony bed between.\r\n\r\nBut the height of it was more than any _tangi_ I had ever seen,\r\ncomparable only to a Dor\xc3\xa9 picture. On either hand the walls of bare\r\nrock shot up straight, hundreds of feet above us, striated lime rock,\r\nsplintered and cracked and twisted, but offering neither foothold nor\r\nhand-hold for any but the boldest and most experienced climber equipped\r\nwith every aid. At the foot were little whitened rock plants, and\r\nclumps of coarse grass.\r\n\r\nA couple of hundred yards farther on and we could see the valley\r\nturning, but when we reached the turn, lo! another again in front. And\r\na silence that was eerie, naught save the murmur of the water, here\r\nperhaps three or four feet wide and a foot or more deep in places,\r\nrunning fairly fast.\r\n\r\nWe went back to the entrance, and, seeing the camels just approaching,\r\nsignalled to Wrexham to stop.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHere we are, and I think the thing is to halt now and make camp.\r\nAfterwards, we can explore the valley. If it\xe2\x80\x99s your great-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s\r\none, it runs in about three miles according to the diary. It\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\nprobably take nearly an hour going up and as much coming back, and say\r\nan hour pottering round, and by that time there\xe2\x80\x99ll not be much point\r\nin going on. So we might as well stop now, and look for a camp. There\r\nare some overhanging rocks there that would give a certain amount of\r\nshelter from the wind if it gets up. In this sort of place one often\r\ngets howling gales, and a bit of shelter is welcome. What do you think?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; I never thought we should get beyond the foot of the hills\r\nto-day,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m with you in the matter of getting a\r\ncamp-site before we start exploring. There doesn\xe2\x80\x99t seem to be much\r\ngrazing here for the camels, worse luck.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s a little scrub stuff inside at the foot of the cliffs, but I\r\nthink we\xe2\x80\x99d be wise not to let the animals touch it to-day. Remember\r\nyour old uncle\xe2\x80\x99s beasts. The stuff may be poisonous. It seems a new\r\nkind to me. Payindah will stop in the valley entrance and do sentry\r\nwhile the rest of us fix up camp.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnother hour saw us settled in, the camels unloaded, and our little\r\ntent snuggled under the lee of a big rock. We made a hasty lunch,\r\nand then, leaving the men to set up things, we three started up the\r\nvalley, rifles very much at the alert. As we entered the _tangi_ mouth,\r\nWrexham, who had been thoughtful during lunch, turned round to Forsyth\r\nand me just behind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook here, you fellows, I\xe2\x80\x99ve been thinking about what we ought to do\r\nwhen we get to the far end if we find the gate my great-great-uncle\r\nwrote about.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s not exactly a suburban villa where you can walk straight up and\r\nring the bell. The people who live here are presumably not accustomed\r\nto strangers, and they might be nasty. One is not at one\xe2\x80\x99s best\r\nstanding outside a fort gate trying to induce the people inside--who\r\nmay not even know any language we speak--to let us in. My idea is that,\r\nif this _is_ the valley, and if we come across that stone gate, we\r\nshould hang about a bit under cover and see if anything materializes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was thinking of that, too,\xe2\x80\x9d put in Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99ve plenty of water\r\nnow, and so there\xe2\x80\x99s no immediate hurry, though the camels could do\r\nwith some grazing. I\xe2\x80\x99m all for trying to get to know the inhabitants\r\nsomewhere out in the open. From the diary the place sounded what you\r\nmight call average inhospitable, and I should prefer to try my Greek\r\non some bloke out in the open rather than have to shout it at a narrow\r\nloophole with the tip of a three-foot arrow wavering about just inside.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe all seem wonderfully unanimous in our thoughts,\xe2\x80\x9d said I; \xe2\x80\x9cthe same\r\nthing occurred to me as we were starting. I suggest, further, we don\xe2\x80\x99t\r\neven show ourselves at first. Let\xe2\x80\x99s see if they materialize before we\r\nsound a tucket, or whatever the medi\xc3\xa6val wanderer used to do when he\r\nstruck a strange fortress and observed the occupants getting handy with\r\nthe boiling lead in case they didn\xe2\x80\x99t like his face.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo we decided--and, as it turned out, it was well that we did so--to\r\nreconnoitre as carefully as if the inhabitants were Huns and we a\r\nbashful trench crawling party, and, if we found the gateway, not to go\r\nout of cover until we saw some chance of meeting the owners on more\r\neven terms.\r\n\r\nAs we went on, Forsyth remarked on the fact that the valley was getting\r\nstill narrower. We had gone about a mile, and it was now not much above\r\nfifteen or sixteen feet wide. The bottom was of rounded stones and\r\npebbles, obviously water-worn, but whether the whole valley was due to\r\nwater action it was hard to say. It must have taken \xc3\xa6ons and \xc3\xa6ons for\r\nthe stream to cut down those many hundred feet, unless at some time it\r\ncontained a far greater flow of water than existed now.\r\n\r\nWrexham opined that originally it must have been a fault in the rock,\r\nand pointed out that the strata here were tilted up vertically on edge.\r\nHe said that probably the valley we walked in had once been a layer of\r\nvery soft rock--easily decomposed--between two harder ones, and that\r\nwhen the rocks had been tilted up the gradual percolation of water had\r\nstarted a groove, and then the stream had done the rest.\r\n\r\nThe walls were of a grey-green limestone here, though at the entrance\r\nthe general tinge had been brown. There was practically no vegetation\r\nsave for here and there, just at the foot, blanched shrubs and small\r\nplants of the type common in rock country over middle Asia. Just now\r\nthe sun was nearly overhead, and some stray sunbeams filtered down, but\r\nfor the greater part of the day the valley must have been--indeed, we\r\nsoon found out that it was--shrouded in a grey gloom. By the time we\r\nhad gone another mile, the walls had closed in to barely ten feet apart.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t like to be caught in a spate here,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cThe place\r\nwould be a seething torrent fifty or sixty feet deep in a few minutes\r\nif there was a heavy fall beyond. It rather makes me think of the\r\nNarrows on the Wana road from Jandola, only on a bigger scale.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNever been up there,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham; \xe2\x80\x9cbut, if you birds had to fight in\r\nstuff like this last year, I\xe2\x80\x99m glad I wasn\xe2\x80\x99t there. One thing here is\r\nthat it\xe2\x80\x99s so high above that, short of heaving over rocks blindly, the\r\nother side couldn\xe2\x80\x99t get at you at all if you had command of the end.\r\nIf the inhabitants are unpleasing, we could manage to hold them up in\r\nthis pretty easily with rifles, and if we couldn\xe2\x80\x99t get in, at least\r\nthey won\xe2\x80\x99t be able to get out at us. What a topping entrance for a real\r\nmedi\xc3\xa6val fortress!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOr even for a modern one. You couldn\xe2\x80\x99t get guns up the cliff anywhere\r\nnear here, and so you\xe2\x80\x99d have to fight through this in pure primitive\r\nfashion; and if, as it must, it opens out in front, all they\xe2\x80\x99ve got to\r\ndo is to stick a few men with rifles, or even with bows, a little way\r\nbeyond under cover to prevent you ever getting out at all.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe were just rounding a turn as we spoke, Forsyth leading. We heard him\r\nexclaim suddenly, and then, coming round the corner, saw him standing\r\nstaring at the rock walls.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, I\xe2\x80\x99m d----d!\xe2\x80\x9d was all he said.\r\n\r\nIt took us a second to realize about what he was exclaiming. The stream\r\nsplit into two branches, and twenty yards farther on these two branches\r\ndisappeared into tunnels in the rock, low, square tunnels, perhaps\r\nthree feet high by two broad, obviously the work of man, cut foursquare\r\nout of the solid limestone.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow I wonder what they did that for?\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cIt doesn\xe2\x80\x99t look\r\nas if these were springs. It seems rather as if somewhere higher up\r\nthey had deliberately diverted the water.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe studied the little tunnels, but there was nothing to show who had\r\nmade them. Unornamented, they might have been of any date. Just plain\r\ntunnelling through the rock much as you can see in Northern India\r\nto-day, where the tribesmen tunnel along in the river-banks to lead\r\nwater off to fields lower down, up above the natural water-level of the\r\nstream.\r\n\r\nIn front the valley continued its sinuous course, but dry now. We\r\nfollowed for about one hundred yards, and then Wrexham stopped and\r\nsniffed. He has a keen nose.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSomething dead about these parts,\xe2\x80\x9d he said at last.\r\n\r\nThere was just a faint movement of air, and undoubtedly, as Wrexham\r\nsaid, it was bringing down to us odours that evoked other scenes back\r\nin the war years. Two minutes later, rounding another bend, we were\r\naware of brighter light in front.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSteady,\xe2\x80\x9d said I; \xe2\x80\x9cI think we\xe2\x80\x99ve come to the end. Stop here a minute\r\nwhile I look ahead.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnother fifty yards round a still sharper and narrower bend, and then\r\nI drew back quickly into the shadow of the valley, which had suddenly\r\nwidened, and was partly filled with some masses of fallen rock. I drew\r\nin my breath as I looked, and then, stepping back, waved up the others,\r\nsignalling silence as I did so. When they came up, I motioned them\r\nbehind the rocks and pointed. As they craned their heads cautiously up,\r\nI heard Wrexham give a low whistle of surprise.\r\n\r\nFor there, straight in front, was the open clearing and the rock gate,\r\ncut into the solid face of the cliff just as the old diary described\r\nit. And on the white stones of the clearing were bones, in large\r\nnumbers--gaunt ribs and rounded skulls--and a pervading smell of death.\r\nWhile, most ominous of all, in the centre of the clearing a huddle of\r\ndraggle-winged vultures jostled and flapped and writhed their foul\r\nnecks about something hidden beneath them.\r\n\r\nWe crouched there, staring breathlessly across the clearing at the gate\r\non the far side.\r\n\r\nImagine a sheer rock wall just like the cleft we had come up, but rock\r\nof a darker colour, that surrounded with the same unscaleable sides the\r\nlittle open space, about two hundred yards in diameter, at whose edge\r\nwe were hidden in the valley mouth. On the far side of it, and facing\r\nus, the rock had been carved for some hundred feet across and sixty\r\nfeet up into the semblance of a fort gateway.\r\n\r\nThere was the big central gate, with its massive pillars and great\r\nlintel carved after the fashion of a huge beam. Under this two great\r\nstone doors, embossed with stone spikes and square heads of nails in\r\nstone. On either side a small gate with similar stone-fashioned doors,\r\neach a single leaf, and on these again--worked in stone--the replicas\r\nof iron bar and spike and nail.\r\n\r\nThe big gate and the two small side doors were again all three enclosed\r\nin a frame fashioned like the projection of a fort, rounded towers on\r\neither side and crenelated bastions above. And in these bastions were\r\nlong arrow-slips--real, these seemed, though showing dead black shadows.\r\n\r\nOn the long stone block that ran under the bastions were carvings\r\nof twisted serpents, whose heads met in a fan in the centre, above\r\nwhich was the full-rayed sun. This last, I think, had been gilded at\r\nsome time, for it was brown and discoloured in places, as if at some\r\nearlier date it had been covered with colour, though now no trace of it\r\nremained.\r\n\r\nBelow that, and just above the main entrance, was lettering, standing\r\nup clear from the background.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan you read that?\xe2\x80\x9d I whispered as Forsyth focused his glasses.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cToo far,\xe2\x80\x9d he whispered back. \xe2\x80\x9cPass me the telescope.\xe2\x80\x9d We had brought\r\nthe telescope along with us luckily.\r\n\r\nI passed it to him, and he undid the strap, fitted in the high-power\r\neye-piece, and slid it into position with as much care as though\r\nstalking a markhor. He studied it a minute, and then turned to us.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c_Greek_, and it\xe2\x80\x99s more like the old Greek than what\xe2\x80\x99s on the picture,\r\nthough not quite the same,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cIt runs like this: \xe2\x80\x98To those to\r\nnorth, the gate of life; but to those to south, the gate of death.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt seems to be that, all right,\xe2\x80\x9d whispered back Wrexham; \xe2\x80\x9cthis is\r\nthe south side of the gate, and there are plenty of poor devils who\r\nhave looked their last on life the last time they looked up at the\r\narrow-slits. There\xe2\x80\x99s a man there under the birds--foul beasts--or\r\nrather it _was_ a man some time ago. They pulled his foot up just now\r\nwhile I was watching through my glasses. He\xe2\x80\x99s not new.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWish I could smoke,\xe2\x80\x9d muttered Forsyth; \xe2\x80\x9cnot safe now, I suppose. This\r\nis foul!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGuess I know now why they diverted the water,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cThe\r\nstream probably comes down on the far side of that gateway, and they\r\ndiverted it to keep the entrance clear. Any one seen any movement in\r\nfront?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot a sign,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve been putting my telescope on the\r\nloopholes. I should say they were real, not fakes like the rest of the\r\ncarving.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe lay there for perhaps three quarters of an hour watching, but never\r\na sign of life in the gateway. At last I said to Wrexham, \xe2\x80\x9cWell, what\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nthe next move?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe turned over and slid back down the rock.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98When in doubt put out pickets.\xe2\x80\x99 Isn\xe2\x80\x99t that what your frontier experts\r\nsay? We must have some one always here in case any one appears. One\r\nof us three with one of the men. I propose that we do three shifts\r\nduring the day, say six to ten, ten to two, and two to six. They may\r\nnot use this place often; depends on the number of people they have to\r\nkill off, and we don\xe2\x80\x99t want to miss a chance of seeing what sort of\r\ncreatures they are. It\xe2\x80\x99s after two o\xe2\x80\x99clock now, and, if you two will\r\nstay here, I\xe2\x80\x99ll scuttle back and get one of the men and then come and\r\nrelieve you for the evening watch. Then to-night we can talk over the\r\nfuture.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s the programme if anything turns up?\xe2\x80\x9d asked Forsyth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuestion of discretion, I think. Have a good look, and if they\xe2\x80\x99re\r\npeaceful you might venture conversation. If not, don\xe2\x80\x99t, but at least\r\nwe shall know something about what they\xe2\x80\x99re like. I\xe2\x80\x99ll be as quick as I\r\ncan.\xe2\x80\x9d And, picking up his rifle, Wrexham trotted off down the valley.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, of all the d----d family graveyards I\xe2\x80\x99ve ever struck,\xe2\x80\x9d said\r\nForsyth as we settled down to our watch. \xe2\x80\x9cI wonder if it is a\r\ngraveyard, by the way, in spite of Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s theory about killing\r\npeople. We may have found the back entry into a sort of Parsi Tower of\r\nSilence place, where they put their dead because earth and fire are\r\nsacred elements and mustn\xe2\x80\x99t be contaminated by corpses.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy Jove! I never thought of that,\xe2\x80\x9d I answered. \xe2\x80\x9cIt might very well be\r\nthat, after all. One can imagine this is rather like what the inside\r\nof one of those places on Malabar Hill would be, for instance. Only,\r\nif the diary is true, it knocks the cemetery theory out of count. And\r\neverything in it has panned out so far.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, that\xe2\x80\x99s so. Old Wrexham would have found a nicely laid out corpse\r\nand not a fellow with his hands tied and an arrow in him. Phew! When I\r\ncome on a job like this again, I\xe2\x80\x99m going to bring a gas-mask.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt must have been nearly four o\xe2\x80\x99clock when Wrexham, accompanied by\r\nPayindah, came up behind us. The latter grimaced a bit as he took up\r\npost.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis is like Farance again, sahib,\xe2\x80\x9d he whispered to me. Evidently\r\nWrexham had told him that it was sentry duty in the front line, and\r\nthat he was not to make a noise.\r\n\r\nWe left them there, and went back down the valley to camp. Wrexham said\r\nhe would come back as soon as it was dark.\r\n\r\nOn arrival in the camp, we found Firoz had some tea ready for us, and\r\nafter that we checked through some of our stores, took photos of the\r\n_tangi_ entrance, and did various odd jobs of overhauling.\r\n\r\nWe also got out the twelve-bore, an old hammer-gun of mine. I thought\r\nif Sadiq was to take a hand in the lookout work he had better be\r\narmed, but it was no good giving him a .303 rifle. But he did know\r\nenough about a hammer-gun to work it, and there are worse things than\r\na twelve-bore with buckshot at close quarters. I dropped a charging\r\npanther once with that same old gun and a charge of buckshot, and it\r\nstopped him as no high-velocity rifle would ever have done.\r\n\r\nIt was dark by six, and we expected to see Wrexham by seven. But he did\r\nnot come, and about eight o\xe2\x80\x99clock we began to get anxious, and Forsyth\r\nsuggested going up the valley to look for him. I counselled waiting a\r\nbit, as I did not see how he could well come to grief. He had Payindah\r\nwith him, and both were armed, and nobody could get into the valley\r\nexcept at each end; of that I was sure. And I was equally sure that\r\nno one could get in at the far end with two shots like Wrexham and\r\nPayindah waiting for them.\r\n\r\nBut when half-past eight had gone and there was no signs of them, I\r\nbegan to agree with Forsyth. We had just started into the _tangi_ when\r\nwe heard footsteps ahead on the stones, and Wrexham and Payindah loomed\r\nup out of the gloom.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat happened to you?\xe2\x80\x9d I said, as we turned back toward the tent.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s been dark for hours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI know; that\xe2\x80\x99s why I wanted the evening watch. I\xe2\x80\x99ve been doing trench\r\ncrawls quite in the old style with Payindah as covering party.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat on earth for?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWanted to see what was on the far side of the clearing by the gates.\r\nShout for food; I must go and wash first. I feel like a cemetery at\r\npresent.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe put down his rifle, and now, by the light of the lanterns, I saw\r\nthat he had what looked like a thin bundle of sticks.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat have you got there?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShow you after dinner,\xe2\x80\x9d was all he vouchsafed, as he made for the\r\nstream with a towel and a piece of soap.\r\n\r\nDuring dinner he expanded. Nothing had happened during his watch, but\r\nthe moment it got dark he left Payindah in position, and crept off in\r\nthe gloom across the clearing. He has no nerves has Wrexham. I should\r\nhave wanted very good reasons to take me out among that tangle of\r\nsmelly bones. The first thing he had made for was the corpse we had\r\nseen. With the darkness the vultures had left it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI crawled up to him first. I was right this afternoon when I said\r\nhe wasn\xe2\x80\x99t new. He wasn\xe2\x80\x99t by a long chalk. But in the faint light\r\nI could see that he had had no clothes, and also that his hands\r\nwere tied. I expected that, because I\xe2\x80\x99ve got a great respect for my\r\ngreat-great-uncle\xe2\x80\x99s accuracy after all we\xe2\x80\x99ve found. What I was looking\r\nfor was the arrow, which was a messy job to get away. But I did it, and\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99s there. There were two in this bloke as a matter of fact, but one\r\nwas broken. I suppose he pitched on it as he fell.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI did a circular tour after that, and found nothing much except\r\nbones, or what you might call \xe2\x80\x98nearly\xe2\x80\x99 bones. Once I caught my hand\r\nin something that I thought was string, and then realized that it\r\nwas hair, long hair. They\xe2\x80\x99re not only man\xe2\x80\x99s bones there, unless some\r\nof them wear long hair like Baluchis or Sikhs, which I should think\r\nunlikely. I also picked up another arrow or two.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was practically pitch-dark now, but I headed for the gateway. I\r\ncrawled up to it d----d quietly, and got right up against the central\r\ndoor. They\xe2\x80\x99re real gates, all right. I pushed my knife its whole length\r\ninto the crack between the two bits of the centre one.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI glued my ear to the cracks, and listened for quite a long time, but\r\nnothing stirred inside, so far as I could hear.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI tried the little doors after that, but they seemed to slide in the\r\nrock and fitted jolly tightly. They\xe2\x80\x99re real, all right, too.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe big one hasn\xe2\x80\x99t been opened for a long time, I fancy, because the\r\ncrack was packed with sand and grit. The grooves round the little ones,\r\non the other hand, seem fairly clear.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOn my way back I stubbed my toe on another arrow sticking up in the\r\nground, and brought that along, too. There\xe2\x80\x99s no other entrance except\r\nthe gate and the valley mouth where we stopped. It\xe2\x80\x99s smooth rock wall\r\nall round like the sides of a well.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAfter a last look in case we might see a glimmer of light in the\r\nloopholes, we came back. I\xe2\x80\x99ve got the arrows tied up there. Pass \xe2\x80\x99em\r\nover, Alec.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe spread them out on the top of the _yakhdan_[4] that served us as\r\na table. \xe2\x80\x9cI cleaned \xe2\x80\x99em up a bit on the way down. Look, just as the\r\ndiary said, there is writing on them.\xe2\x80\x9d He pointed to the stem below the\r\ndraggled feathers. \xe2\x80\x9cWhat do you make of it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey\xe2\x80\x99re not the same, anyway. And they\xe2\x80\x99re very indistinct. Here, put\r\nthe light nearer,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOne thing, they\xe2\x80\x99ve all got the same coloured shafts. See, they\xe2\x80\x99re all\r\nblack.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis one\xe2\x80\x99s different,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cLook, there\xe2\x80\x99s a red ring round\r\nunder the feathers.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, what\xe2\x80\x99s the writing?\xe2\x80\x9d queried Wrexham.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve got mine,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s \xe2\x80\x98Freedom.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd I\xe2\x80\x99ve got mine, too, now,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cIt runs \xe2\x80\x98A little time.\xe2\x80\x99\r\nWhat on earth does that mean?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe Lord only knows,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cWhy on earth any one should want\r\nto paint things like that on an arrow beats me. Look at this one.\r\nIt\xe2\x80\x99s rather obliterated, an oldish one, I should say. But isn\xe2\x80\x99t that\r\n\xe2\x80\x98to-morrow\xe2\x80\x99?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cThey\xe2\x80\x99re a queer crowd with their mottoed\r\narrows. Any one see a glimmering of sense in them? Let me see the other\r\ntwo.\xe2\x80\x9d He looked at them. \xe2\x80\x9cDuplicates. See; there\xe2\x80\x99s another \xe2\x80\x98Freedom\xe2\x80\x99\r\none, and this is again, \xe2\x80\x98A little time.\xe2\x80\x99 Well, I give it up.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe did, too.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnything else?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked Wrexham.\r\n\r\nHe shook his head. \xe2\x80\x9cNothing else I could see. It was practically dark\r\nin there, just a faint glimmer of moon which hardly did anything except\r\nmake the darkness darker. Well, now, about to-morrow. Whatever happens,\r\nwe\xe2\x80\x99ll stop here for a day or two. In the first place, we want to know\r\nif there\xe2\x80\x99s anything to be seen, and in the second, we must give the\r\ncamels a rest. I propose we watch in turns during the day. I\xe2\x80\x99ll take\r\nfirst shift with Sadiq, then Forsyth and Firoz can relieve us. That\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\nlet Firoz get breakfast, and also be back in time to get evening food.\r\nYou, Harry, with Payindah, can relieve Alec and Firoz. That suit every\r\none?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe both agreed that it would do.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think,\xe2\x80\x9d I said, \xe2\x80\x9cthat we ought to have a sentry all night. You say\r\nyou\xe2\x80\x99ve seen nothing, but there may be people moving at night, though\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99s not likely. Still, it\xe2\x80\x99s best to prepare for the worst, even while\r\nfirmly expecting the best. If we each do a two-hour shift, it won\xe2\x80\x99t\r\ncome very heavy.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe others agreed it might be sound, so we arranged that we three and\r\nthe two sepoys should do two hours each at the entrance to the _tangi_.\r\nWrexham went on first, followed by Firoz, who was relieved by Forsyth.\r\nPayindah took over from him, and I had the dawn watch. However, nothing\r\nhappened all night, and none of us heard a sound.\r\n\r\nShortly after the first dawn, Wrexham and Sadiq started up the _tangi_,\r\nand I went back to my blankets for another hour\xe2\x80\x99s sleep, feeling very\r\nchilled, for the dawn air was biting. About half-past nine, after we\r\nhad had breakfast, Forsyth and Firoz started off, and an hour and a\r\nhalf later Wrexham and Sadiq, who looked rather as if he had been\r\nseeing ghosts, came back with nothing whatever to report.\r\n\r\nAt a quarter-past one, I turned out Payindah, and the two of us went\r\noff to relieve Forsyth and Firoz at the mouth of the clearing. All was\r\njust as it had been the day before. The same heavy smell, the same\r\nlitter of bones, the same filthy vultures, the same frowning, lifeless\r\ngateway in front.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCheerio,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth as he went off. \xe2\x80\x9cHope you\xe2\x80\x99ll enjoy the family\r\nvault as much as I have. I\xe2\x80\x99ve taken some photos, and I don\xe2\x80\x99t believe\r\nany one ever comes here except, perhaps, once a month or so.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPayindah and I settled down to our monotonous watch, and nothing moved\r\nbefore us save the obscene birds.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IX\r\n\r\nA LADY JOINS US\r\n\r\n\r\nPayindah took first shift, while I settled myself into a corner of the\r\nrock below him with a pocket edition of Browning, which I generally\r\ncarry when travelling. It is an old friend that has solaced many a\r\nlonely hour and many a lonely place.\r\n\r\nI had been reading for about three quarters of an hour--I remember the\r\npoem was \xe2\x80\x9cOne Word More\xe2\x80\x9d--when Payindah gave a low hiss. I looked up\r\nand saw he had turned his head round.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s some one in the gate,\xe2\x80\x9d he said.\r\n\r\nI slipped the book into my pocket, climbed up beside him, and stared\r\nout across the open space, but saw nothing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhere?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSomething moved in the third loophole. There it is again! Look!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI gazed through the glasses, and then just caught a faint flicker.\r\nIt might have been anything--a man\xe2\x80\x99s hand, a flutter of cloth; but\r\nsomething certainly moved in the shadow of the arrow-slit. We crouched\r\nthere silently for perhaps ten minutes, and nothing more happened. Then\r\nsuddenly Payindah spoke, and I saw his rifle slip forward.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSahib, the gate opens; the little one on the right there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked, and, as he said, there was a growing shadow as if it was\r\nbeing opened slowly. Then the chink widened, the gate opened, and two\r\nfigures stumbled out.\r\n\r\nI say \xe2\x80\x9cstumbled,\xe2\x80\x9d for they gave me the impression of being pushed out.\r\nThe gate swung to behind them noiselessly.\r\n\r\nThe leading figure was that of an old man with long white beard and\r\nwhite locks. His arms were bound behind his back, and he moved slowly,\r\nwalking rather oddly, as though something dragged at his feet. But the\r\nsecond figure was that of a woman, young and white, with a mass of\r\nauburn hair. She, too, had her hands bound behind her.\r\n\r\nThe old man tripped, and I saw the girl all but fall. Then they moved\r\nforward a few slow paces and stopped.\r\n\r\nThen again onward, and now I realized, as I watched through my glasses,\r\nwhy they stumbled. Their movement seemed constrained, and it was only\r\nas they came over a little rise that I grasped the fact that they were\r\nshackled together, left ankle to right.\r\n\r\nI heard Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s guttural grunt behind me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWho be these swine that maltreat an old man and a woman like that,\r\nturning them out of the gates stripped and bound?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nA few more yards and the old man halted, looking dazedly up at the\r\nsky. Then he moved forward once more, the girl stepping jerkily at his\r\nside. Again he checked and swayed, and then I saw the girl bend toward\r\nhim and evidently say something. I think she was urging him to another\r\neffort. Poor soul; I suppose they thought they might yet escape.\r\n\r\nThey had come slowly and hesitatingly perhaps sixty yards, and I was\r\nracking my brain as to some means of helping them, when suddenly the\r\nold man stopped dead, then shot forward on to his face, pulling the\r\ngirl to the ground. I could see him as he lay; he only moved once, and\r\nup from between his shoulders stuck a long arrow-shaft.\r\n\r\nWhat happened after that will take a long time to tell, though it took\r\nbut a few minutes to act.\r\n\r\nThe girl writhed herself up again, and bent piteously over the old man.\r\nThen she dragged herself to her knees, and stayed looking at the gate.\r\n\r\nAt first I had hesitated. One did not want to introduce one\xe2\x80\x99s self to\r\na new country by attacking the local police in the execution of their\r\nlegitimate--if unpleasant--duties. But the sight of the girl decided\r\nme. This could be no decent form of justice.\r\n\r\nI laid my rifle down by Payindah and said:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShoot into the loopholes. Shoot like hell!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs his rifle spoke, I was slipping off the rock, and a second later\r\nI was out in the open, my big hunting-knife in my hand, running as I\r\nhadn\xe2\x80\x99t run since I played outside left for my regiment before the war.\r\n\r\nPayindah was not much in the brain line as far as education went. But\r\neven before the war, when straight shooting was the common possession\r\nof most regular soldiers, he stood out as a marksman. And his star\r\nspecialty was rapid shooting. I have seen him put thirteen shots into a\r\ntwo-foot target at two hundred yards in thirty seconds, and do it often.\r\n\r\nAs I ran over the stones, picking my way among the scattered heaps of\r\nwhat had once been men, I heard the steady rapid crack of his rifle\r\nbehind me, and before me I could catch the \xe2\x80\x9csmack\xe2\x80\x9d \xe2\x80\x9csmack\xe2\x80\x9d of the\r\nbullets about the arrow-slits.\r\n\r\nThe men inside were evidently not accustomed to firearms, and the\r\nsudden noise--magnified by the enclosed space, and, as we learnt later,\r\nthe effect of the shots that went home--paralyzed them.\r\n\r\nProbably another factor in saving us was my utterly unexpected\r\nappearance in that place of death, where no living being, save captives\r\nstripped and bound, had ever been seen before. Possibly, for a minute\r\nor two, they--a superstitious, half-savage people--took me for an evil\r\nspirit.\r\n\r\nAnyway, not a single arrow was fired at me as I tore across the\r\nclearing.\r\n\r\nThe girl, hearing the noise behind, turned her head bewilderedly, and\r\nthen, seeing me leaping over the stones, struggled to her feet. I don\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nknow what she took me for, but with the knife bare in my hand she\r\nprobably thought me Death in some new form. But she stood there bravely\r\nfacing me with steady eyes, her poor arms cruelly twisted behind her\r\nback, her red-gold hair falling in a loose bundle on one shoulder, her\r\nbreath coming quickly between her parted lips.\r\n\r\nI hadn\xe2\x80\x99t breath to speak nor time to waste, and I didn\xe2\x80\x99t definitely\r\nknow what her language was, so I did the only possible thing. I put my\r\narm round her and swung her to the ground as gently, but as quickly as\r\nI could, so that she would be the smaller target while I got her free.\r\n\r\nI think she expected to feel the knife in her heart, and was amazed to\r\nbe still alive. Anyway, she lay still, which was all I asked. I didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nworry about her arms; what I wanted to see was her leg. And then to my\r\nhorror I found that instead of a rope as I had hoped, she was fastened\r\nto the old man by a short length of chain riveted in each case to an\r\niron ring round the ankle.\r\n\r\nI think I put up some kind of incoherent prayer, and then bethought me\r\nof my pistol. I squatted with both feet on the chain, pulled out the\r\nbig Colt forty-five automatic, pushed it up hard against the riveted\r\nboss on the ring round the old man\xe2\x80\x99s ankle, and pressed the trigger.\r\nDid I mention, by the way, that the old man was stone dead with two\r\ninches of the arrow sticking through his ribs over the heart? His being\r\ndead helped me, since I had not to worry where the bullet went.\r\n\r\nThe recoil nearly dislocated my wrist, but I saw that the rivet had\r\nsmashed away, and with a violent wrench I pulled the chain free.\r\n\r\nMy hasty glance at the girl\xe2\x80\x99s arm, smothered in many times knotted\r\nrope, had shown me that it would be quicker to carry her than try to\r\nfree the knots in the green hide that bound her arms together. To have\r\ntried to make her run over the stones with her arms literally racked\r\nback, and a length of chain dangling from one ankle, would have been\r\nequally slow; she would have fallen time and again.\r\n\r\nI put my left arm round her shoulders, my right under her knees, swung\r\nher up, and started at a slow jog-trot over the stones toward Payindah,\r\nand then an arrow flicked past us, to stand quivering in the ground\r\nbeyond.\r\n\r\nBy this time doubtless the people inside had sized up me and my\r\nmission, and between the rifle-cracks I heard shouting in the gate. I\r\nhad gone a matter of thirty yards when the girl said something I didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nunderstand, but obviously to attract my attention backwards. Her head\r\nwas resting on my left shoulder, so that she could just see over it.\r\n\r\nI looked back. There was the little gate open and five men running\r\nover the stones after us, men in steel caps and short leather and mail\r\njerkins.\r\n\r\nI thought that was the end. I struggled on twenty paces or so and then\r\nstopped, slipped my arm from under the girl\xe2\x80\x99s knees so that she could\r\nstand, and with my left arm round her shoulders turned, drawing my\r\npistol as I did, and covering her body as best I could with my own.\r\n\r\nThe leading man, a sinister, dark-visaged fellow, was within twenty\r\nyards of me, a short heavy sword in his hand. Practically level with\r\nhim was another man. Ten yards behind them was a third, and beyond that\r\nagain two more, all running fast, with guttural shouts, while two or\r\nthree more showed in the open gate.\r\n\r\nAs I turned I saw one of the hindmost pair stop, sink slowly to his\r\nknees, and then roll over sideways. Payindah had caught him, all right.\r\nI asked him afterwards why he picked the last man, and found that we\r\nhad been between him and the leading man, and he dared not shoot at\r\nthem for fear of hitting us.\r\n\r\nThe leaders were within ten yards as I fired. The heavy bullet took the\r\nfirst low in the middle of the body, and he smashed down in a heap, his\r\nsteel cap ringing over the stones nearly to our feet. His feet drummed\r\na second on the ground, and then he lay still--face buried in a huddle\r\nof bones, one of his earlier victims. The girl gave a little gasp as\r\nhe went over. The second man had leaped in at the same moment, and was\r\nbarely three yards from me when my second shot caught him in the chest,\r\nand he flung forward at my feet. He tried to struggle up, but sank\r\nagain, blood pouring from mouth and nose.\r\n\r\nSeeing his leaders drop, the third man, checked at this new fashion of\r\nkilling, turned his head to see if he was supported, missed the fifth\r\nman, and as he looked saw the fourth pitch backwards with a ringing\r\ncrash of metal, and then turned to fly. I fired, but missed him, and he\r\nmade for the gate.\r\n\r\nI thrust the pistol back into its holster, swung the girl up again,\r\nand made off once more. And as we started, out of the corner of my\r\neye I caught a glimpse of the last fellow shooting forward on to his\r\nface, roll over, wriggle up on his hands again trying to claw his\r\nway forward, struggling and screaming like a wounded rabbit. I think\r\nPayindah must have broken his spine low down. From what I learnt of him\r\nand his kind afterwards, I\xe2\x80\x99m glad he took some little time to die.\r\n\r\nThen Payindah turned on to the gate, and within fifteen seconds\r\nthat was shut again hurriedly. I expect the bullets ricocheting\r\nround corners into the passage behind, as arrows could never have\r\ndone, was pretty scaring to the men inside, leaving out the sudden\r\nincomprehensible deaths of the party in the open.\r\n\r\nBut his switching off the loopholes gave the men above a chance.\r\nProbably some bold spirit had rallied them after their first surprise,\r\nand as we started off the second time two arrows shot by, just missing\r\nus; then two more, one of which went through the skirt of my coat.\r\n\r\nSo far I had not had much time to consider the girl, but I glanced down\r\nat her as the arrows came over, and tried to get her head below the\r\nlevel of my shoulder. She was quite conscious, and cooler than most\r\npeople would have been in her circumstances; and yet as I stumbled\r\nalong over the stones she must have been suffering agonies, with her\r\narms bound so tight that her shoulder-joints seemed to stick clean out\r\nof her body. There was no colour in her drawn face, and there were dark\r\nshadows below her big hazel-grey eyes. But she lay there in my arms\r\nwith never a moan.\r\n\r\nThen I caught my foot in some snag and nearly fell. Something tore\r\nacross my face, and I heard the girl give a little faint cry. An arrow\r\nhad flicked in between us as I stumbled and, tearing open my cheek,\r\nhad grazed a couple of inches below her right shoulder. But she didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nscream, just looked down at the wound and up at me again.\r\n\r\nI must have been a fairly unpleasing sight by that time, panting for\r\nbreath, with the blood streaming down from my face on to her white neck\r\nand shoulders.\r\n\r\nBut Payindah had got back on to the arrow-slits, I think. Two last\r\narrows flicked past, one passably near, the other a good bit overhead.\r\nThere were only thirty yards to go now, and it was done at a stumbling\r\nwalk. Thank goodness, no more arrows came, and then I got round the\r\ncorner of the rock, where Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s rifle--the sweetest music I have\r\never heard--cracked steadily above me, and, I am ashamed to say, slid\r\nforward on to my knees, nearly pitching on my face altogether. Luckily\r\nI saved myself. Then I laid the girl down, mopped the blood off my face\r\nwith my sleeve, and fumbled for my knife.\r\n\r\nAs I was getting the knife out, I called to Payindah to ask if he\r\nwanted aid.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo need, sahib. These spawn of hell have shut the gate, and now they\r\ndare not even shoot from the loopholes. Three lie dead in the open, and\r\ntwo more are dying noisily near them.\xe2\x80\x9d He fired a burst of rapid shots,\r\nand then, stopping, hurriedly slipped off his _poshtin_ and pushed it\r\ndown to me, saying as he took up his rifle again, \xe2\x80\x9cThe memsahib will be\r\ncold.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPayindah, like most decent fighting men, is a gentleman of nature.\r\n\r\nSo I turned again to the girl, who was sitting up, and with a somewhat\r\nunsteady hand hacked and tore at the twisted leather that bound her\r\narms. The man who had tied her up was an artist and also a fiend. She\r\ntold me later that he was the third man who followed us, the one whose\r\nback Payindah had broken. It took me with a sharp knife about three\r\nminutes to get her arms loose.\r\n\r\nThe swine had wound the raw hides into a sort of crisscross network,\r\nand pulled it up so that her arms practically met from the wrists\r\nto the elbows behind her back. Her nails were blue, and her hands\r\nall swollen up with great knotted veins standing out. She was a good\r\nplucked \xe2\x80\x99un not to scream while I tried to get her free. When I\xe2\x80\x99d cut\r\nthe last of the knots and peeled off the ropes which had sunk into\r\nweals in the flesh, though luckily not breaking the skin, her arms fell\r\nlimp and helpless to her sides.\r\n\r\nWith my handkerchief I wiped the blood off her shoulder and then tied\r\nit up. There was only a small tear an inch or so long, and not deep.\r\n\r\nThen I pulled Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s _poshtin_ on to her, and settling her against\r\na rock tried to massage her arms. Once the blood started moving, she\r\nnearly fainted, and I could see the pain was pretty bad. Luckily I had\r\nthe little brandy-flask I always carry, so I poured some out and held\r\nit to her lips.\r\n\r\nShe made rather a grimace, coughed, and choked, but swallowed it, and\r\na little spot of colour came into her cheeks. After a few more minutes\r\nshe was able to move her arms and just bend her elbows a bit.\r\n\r\nWe had brought a thermos of hot tea for use during our watch, as it was\r\nvery cold in the gloomy valley, so I reached that down and gave her\r\nsome, which she swallowed gratefully enough. Payindah was only firing\r\noccasional shots now, and said there was no movement to be seen at the\r\narrow-slits.\r\n\r\nWhile rubbing the girl\xe2\x80\x99s arms, I tried to talk to her. I said a word\r\nor two in Greek; then I tried my halting Turki, then Greek again. The\r\nsecond time she seemed to recognize something, and said slowly, in\r\nunmistakable Greek, though idiom and accent were strange at first: \xe2\x80\x9cWho\r\nare you? You are not of those of the gate?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFriends, lady,\xe2\x80\x9d said I; \xe2\x80\x9cfriends from a far country. You are safe now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen the pain stopped her speaking more, and she closed her eyes and\r\nleant back against the rock.\r\n\r\nFive minutes later, she was just beginning to bend her wrists and the\r\nswollen veins were going down, but I could see how the efforts hurt her.\r\n\r\nI stood up and spoke to Payindah.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan you hold this place alone, Payindah? It\xe2\x80\x99s the narrowest place to\r\nstop any one. If you can, I will take the memsahib back and send up the\r\nothers to relieve you. We shall have to get away from here now that\r\nwe\xe2\x80\x99ve killed these men.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWah, sahib, one shot like me could hold this against an army. Have no\r\nfear. They have no guns, and, so long as it\xe2\x80\x99s light, nothing will cross\r\nthe stones alive while I am here. But what when it gets dark?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked at my watch--just on 3.15.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe others will be here before dark. Stay you here and hold the\r\nvalley.\xe2\x80\x9d I took off my bandolier and passed it up to him. \xe2\x80\x9cI will leave\r\nmy rifle in case yours should jam at any time.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI helped the girl to her feet. \xe2\x80\x9cYou will have to walk now. It\xe2\x80\x99s too far\r\nto carry you. Can you walk if I help?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI will try,\xe2\x80\x9d she said.\r\n\r\nThen I took off my puttees and made slings for her arms, so that the\r\nblood flowing down should not hurt too much as she walked. The last\r\nthing I did was to knot up some of the cut leather rope, twist it into\r\nthe chain fastened to her ankle, and tie it up in a loop to the skirt\r\nof Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s _poshtin_ which came down to her knees.\r\n\r\nAs I was doing this last, Payindah looked down. \xe2\x80\x9cThe mem cannot walk\r\nover the stones with bare feet,\xe2\x80\x9d and he loosed his _chaplis_ and\r\ndropped them down to me.\r\n\r\nThey were a bit large, but most Easterns have smaller hands and feet\r\nthan we have, and I managed to knot them on to the girl\xe2\x80\x99s feet fairly\r\nwell with the aid of the lanyard of my knife. Then I put my arm about\r\nher, and we started slowly down the valley.\r\n\r\nWhen we came to the stream, I made her sit down, and bathed her hands\r\nand arms, washed the cut on her shoulder, and tied it up again. Then\r\nI washed as much of the blood off my face and neck as I could--I\r\nwas still bleeding a bit--and made a crude bandage with a second\r\nhandkerchief I had in my pocket.\r\n\r\nThe girl tried to help me with this last, but her swollen hands still\r\nrefused to do anything, and with a gesture of despair she gave it up.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI cannot use my hands,\xe2\x80\x9d she said piteously. Then, looking at my face,\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you much hurt?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNothing really,\xe2\x80\x9d I said; \xe2\x80\x9ckeep your arms still now for a while.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe went fairly slowly, and it took us an hour to get to the tent. I\r\ndidn\xe2\x80\x99t try to talk to her much, for I could see that her arms hurt a\r\nlot as we walked over the rough stones.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy God!\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, whom we ran into just at the _tangi_ mouth\r\nexamining plants. \xe2\x80\x9cWhat on earth have you been doing? And who have you\r\ngot here?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he shouted to Wrexham to get the medicine-chest out quick.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHad a fight, killed some unpleasing gentlemen, picked up this lady,\r\nand left Payindah with two rifles holding the valley.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBy this time the others had run up to us, and Wrexham had brought the\r\nmedicine-chest, so I said to Forsyth:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTackle her first, arrow gash on right shoulder, and arms all to hell\r\nfrom ropes. Talks strange Greek slowly.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe gathered up the medicine-chest and piloted the girl to the tent.\r\nWhile he was overhauling her and dressing the cut on her shoulder, I\r\nturned to Wrexham and hurriedly explained things.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRight-o,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll cut along now and join Payindah. Two men can\r\nhold that pass all night. As soon as Firoz has put some food out--the\r\ngirl looks as if some wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t hurt her--send him along and Alec, too,\r\nas soon as he\xe2\x80\x99s done with you both. You\xe2\x80\x99d better sit down and keep\r\nquiet a bit; you look a trifle war-worn. Have you talked to the damsel\r\nyet?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs he spoke he was pulling open the ammunition-boxes, from one of which\r\nhe took out a small square tin and from another a little round cylinder.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. She talks Greek, all right, though it sounds funny. But I didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nworry her much; she was looking pretty cheap. What\xe2\x80\x99s that you\xe2\x80\x99re\r\ndigging out?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA few pounds of powder and some lighters that I brought. With that and\r\nsome string I\xe2\x80\x99ll rig up some booby-traps in case we have to come away\r\nin a hurry.\xe2\x80\x9d He opened his little tool-chest and pulled out a hacksaw.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99ll get the chain off the girl\xe2\x80\x99s ankle. Put a pad underneath while\r\nyou work.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood idea. I\xe2\x80\x99ll do it when Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s done with her. Do you think we\r\nshall have to bolt from here?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI fancy so, but I don\xe2\x80\x99t want to go till we\xe2\x80\x99ve found out something from\r\nthe girl. She will be able to tell us what\xe2\x80\x99s going on inside. Nor do I\r\nwant to trek by night if we can hold on till morning and then slip away\r\nquietly. They\xe2\x80\x99ll be shy of trying to cross the open space in daylight\r\nif they think we\xe2\x80\x99re still there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe stuffed his treasures into a big haversack, slung two bandoliers\r\nround his neck (we had loaded our sporting .303 into clips and packed\r\nit into bandoliers), filled my empty thermos from the teapot on the\r\ntable, got his rifle, and started off, saying as he went:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGet all the loads roped up in case we have to scuttle quick.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI went over to the tent, where I found Forsyth had fixed up the girl in\r\none of our beds, dressed her shoulder, fitted her out with a suit of\r\nhis silk pyjamas (he is particular about his underclothing), and was\r\nrubbing her arms with something or other. She could move her fingers\r\nby now, and the swelling had gone down a lot. They were carrying on a\r\nconversation, both speaking rather slowly.\r\n\r\nAs I came in, she looked up, and seeing me caught hold of my hand with\r\na torrent of words rather too quick for me to follow exactly with her\r\nstrange accent, but it was mostly thanking me for getting her away from\r\nthe gate. Feeling distinctly embarrassed, I murmured something about\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cnothing to make a fuss over.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you feeling better now?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, much better already.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99ve got some luck, old man,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, \xe2\x80\x9cto get a chance of\r\nrescuing a girl like this. Jolly nice-looking and lots of pluck. She\r\nmust have been through hell, but no whining.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe had a final look at her arms and then pulled the blankets up over\r\nthem.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat about her shoulder?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, only a deep scratch, and there\xe2\x80\x99s nothing else the matter. Her\r\narms will be all right to-morrow. We must get the chain off her leg,\r\nthough.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI showed him the hacksaw.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood! Can you tackle that job now while I get some food for her?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. But I shall want you to hold the ring steady while I saw it. We\r\nwant something under it, too; a towel will do.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe reached for a towel he had been using, and the girl, who had been\r\nlistening to us, asked me if he was going to do my face.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPresently,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cBut first of all we\xe2\x80\x99re going to get that ring off\r\nyour leg. Then we\xe2\x80\x99ll give you some food and something warm to drink.\r\nAfter that you must try and tell us what happened to you and where you\r\nlive. Now keep your leg still. We shan\xe2\x80\x99t hurt.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth turned back the end of the blanket and wrapped a twisted towel\r\nround her ankle, pushing it up under the ring. Then he held the ring\r\nsteady, and I got to work. The iron was soft, and the hacksaw went\r\nthrough it with no trouble. A bit of a wrench at the cut ends and it\r\npulled open enough to let me slip her ankle--a particularly slim neat\r\none--through it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, now I\xe2\x80\x99ll get her some food. I\xe2\x80\x99ve told Firoz to bring boiling\r\nwater, and I\xe2\x80\x99ve got a bottle of bovril here. The rest will have to be\r\n_chupattis_ and tinned stuff. We\xe2\x80\x99re not exactly equipped for hospital\r\nfeeding.\xe2\x80\x9d Forsyth went out and shouted for Firoz.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou must try and eat, even if you\xe2\x80\x99re not feeling hungry,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cWe\r\nmay have to go a long way to-morrow, I expect.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhere are you going?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked, looking at me anxiously.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTry and take you back to your own folk, if we can find a way in, or if\r\nyou can show us one.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe was clearly relieved at this, I could see.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut don\xe2\x80\x99t worry about that for a bit. Here\xe2\x80\x99s food coming. When you\xe2\x80\x99ve\r\neaten and feel stronger, we\xe2\x80\x99ll talk about it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth reappeared, carrying our cherished bazaar tea-tray, with some\r\nfood on it, and, propping the girl up on the pillows, proceeded to\r\nfeed her. She tried to take the cup herself, but her wrists were still\r\ntoo stiff, and he had to help her. When she had finished, there was a\r\nlittle more colour in her cheeks.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPass me those brushes,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth.\r\n\r\nI passed them over, and he brushed out her hair, and made it into two\r\nplaits in a notably skilful manner, I thought.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe\xe2\x80\x99s a good nurse; isn\xe2\x80\x99t he?\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\nShe smiled wanly at him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHasn\xe2\x80\x99t she topping hair?\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cReal Titian red. Reminds me of\r\nsome one I used to know.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nEvery pretty girl reminds Forsyth of some one he used to know. I\r\nsuppose that\xe2\x80\x99s why he escaped unmarried. There\xe2\x80\x99s a certain safety in\r\nnumbers.\r\n\r\nWhen he had finished, the girl said that it was time my face was done.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cJust going to now. You rest a little and then we\xe2\x80\x99ll come back.\xe2\x80\x9d He\r\nsmoothed out the blankets and slipped another pillow under her head.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow come along outside, Harry, and let\xe2\x80\x99s have a look at that face of\r\nyours.\xe2\x80\x9d He picked up the medicine-chest as he spoke, and I followed\r\nhim out of the tent, where he called Firoz for a basin of water. Then,\r\npulling off my extemporized bandage, he cleaned up my face, which was\r\ngetting moderately painful.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA fairly big gash, Harry. You\xe2\x80\x99ll wear your face in a sling for some\r\ndays to come. Now hold steady. I\xe2\x80\x99m going to hurt a bit.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe did.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere, that\xe2\x80\x99s done,\xe2\x80\x9d he said at last, reaching for a roll of lint.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99ll stop hurting presently; it\xe2\x80\x99s a fairly clean cut, though deep.\r\nThey keep their arrows sharp, which is a blessing. That cut the girl\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ngot might have been done with a razor.\xe2\x80\x9d He was twisting a bandage\r\nround my head as he spoke.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, now, we\xe2\x80\x99d better go and ask the girl what\xe2\x80\x99s been happening,\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\nsaid, as he finished and began putting his things away.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. But first I\xe2\x80\x99ll tell Firoz to get ready. I\xe2\x80\x99ll tell him to pack up\r\nsome food for Wrexham and Payindah; they\xe2\x80\x99ll want something up there.\r\nThe gorge must be perishing cold by now. It\xe2\x80\x99s none too warm even at\r\nmidday.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhen we had given Firoz his instructions, we went back to the tent, and\r\nsat down on Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s bedding next to the girl, who had been put into\r\nmine. She was looking better already from the food and the warmth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow will you tell us one or two things about what\xe2\x80\x99s happened?\xe2\x80\x9d I said.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre the people in the gate people you\xe2\x80\x99re at war with, or who are they?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey are Shamans, a tribe who live round the gate. They are not yet at\r\nwar with us, though my father expects war some day. They captured me\r\nwhen I was stopping with an old chief, who is a friend of my father\xe2\x80\x99s,\r\njust outside our country.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI was getting accustomed to her accent now, and she had the sense not\r\nto talk too fast.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy did they capture you, then?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey and certain others attacked the old chief\xe2\x80\x99s house when I was\r\nthere. He was the old man with me in the gate.\xe2\x80\x9d She shuddered a bit.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen why were they going to kill you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey weren\xe2\x80\x99t--just yet. But ... the chief Shaman ... wanted me ... and\r\nso I thought I\xe2\x80\x99d better make him angry--as angry as I could--so that\r\nhe would kill me quick. They say once he is angry, nothing but blood\r\npleases him, so I thought that was my only chance.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe colour had gone from her face again, and she breathed rather\r\nquickly, so I turned on to something else.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you think the Shamans\xe2\x80\x9d--I hesitated over the word, and she repeated\r\nit--\xe2\x80\x9cthe Shamans will attack us to-night?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI do not think they will dare face your weapons that kill with only a\r\nnoise. Moreover, I think they are afraid of the outside of the gate by\r\nnight. They say there are devils there. Last night they kept me above\r\nthe gate to frighten me. But _I_ thought that there were worse devils\r\ninside than out.... Also they will not know what you are. No man has\r\never come into the country for hundreds of years, and I think that the\r\ncommon people do not even believe there are men outside.\xe2\x80\x9d She looked\r\nat us, and then went on again: \xe2\x80\x9cYou are certainly men, and of course I\r\nknow there are other countries. But how came you across the desert, and\r\nwhy? And who are you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe came from very far away, lady. We came because we heard that there\r\nwere white people like ourselves here, and we wished to see. But we\r\nwill tell you all about that later on. Now you just said the old man\r\nwith you was a friend of your father\xe2\x80\x99s. Who is your father?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe is chief of the Blue Sakae, as we call our clan.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre there several clans in the country, then?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, four; but the Shamans have overcome three of them, and seek now\r\nto overcome us, being very, very evil.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre your people far away from here?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAbout three days\xe2\x80\x99 journey--on horseback--to the east.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs there any way up the cliffs into your country, or any other gate\r\nlike this one?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere is no gate.\xe2\x80\x9d She thought a little; then continued: \xe2\x80\x9cHave you\r\nropes?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; we have ropes which we brought to help us climb the cliffs if we\r\ncould not enter the gate.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen if you can climb well--very well--I can show you a way that might\r\nbe climbed. It leads to some caves near a country house we have on the\r\nedge of our country.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen to-morrow, lady, we will start for there and take you back to\r\nyour people. At least, we will if you can show us a way up the cliffs.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI turned to Forsyth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, now we know where we are, and the thing is to get hold of John.\r\nI suggest that we move east the first thing in the morning, unless he\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nseen anything which makes him think we ought to go to-night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI turned to the girl.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow you lie still and rest, and, if you can, sleep. We are going to\r\nget things ready to start to-morrow. Presently we\xe2\x80\x99ll come back and fix\r\nyou up for the night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wonder if John has seen anything,\xe2\x80\x9d said I as we left the tent. \xe2\x80\x9cThe\r\ngirl does not seem to think that the enemy will come out to-night,\r\nand I expect they\xe2\x80\x99re pretty well scared, what with our guns and our\r\nunexpected appearance in a place where no one ever comes. Thank\r\ngoodness, the moon gets up soon. It will give some light in that\r\nbeastly place if the enemy try to come out. I\xe2\x80\x99ll go up with Firoz and\r\ntell John about things.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, you won\xe2\x80\x99t; not much. You\xe2\x80\x99ll just sit quiet here and rest that face\r\nof yours. I\xe2\x80\x99ll go along with Firoz as soon as I\xe2\x80\x99ve made up some stuff\r\nto send that young woman to sleep. She\xe2\x80\x99s had enough shocks to last\r\nher a lifetime, and I want her to get to sleep. When I\xe2\x80\x99ve gone--say,\r\nin another half an hour--give her this stuff I\xe2\x80\x99m going to make up; it\r\nought to send her off pretty quick.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe was opening the medicine-chest as he talked, and proceeded to mix up\r\nsome drugs.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDid you notice the way she talked?\xe2\x80\x9d he continued. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m sure Greek\r\nis not her mother tongue. You noticed how strange words slipped in\r\nevery now and then, and when she saw we didn\xe2\x80\x99t understand them she\r\nsubstituted Greek ones, sometimes thinking a second or two. She\xe2\x80\x99s got\r\nher wits about her, all right, that young person.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; I noticed that. Her Greek is different from any I\xe2\x80\x99ve heard,\r\nalthough one can follow it easily enough. I wonder if it\xe2\x80\x99s the old\r\nclassic Greek just been changing through the ages, or whether it\xe2\x80\x99s some\r\nold forgotten dialect. But did you realize her clan name, the \xe2\x80\x98Sakae\xe2\x80\x99?\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99ve met them somewhere in one of the classics, I\xe2\x80\x99m sure.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; I remarked that, all right. They were a tribe of sorts in middle\r\nAsia in Alexander\xe2\x80\x99s time. The chief points about them were their being\r\nvery stout fighters, and their women being particularly independent.\r\nThere\xe2\x80\x99s some old story about their marriage customs, including a\r\ndecision in each case as to whether the man or the woman should rule\r\nthe house. Rather fits in with the present case, for it\xe2\x80\x99s clear that\r\nthis damsel is accustomed to treat with men on an equal footing. None\r\nof your Eastern _purdah_ about her.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cJolly refreshing to meet after some years in the East, isn\xe2\x80\x99t it? I\r\nwonder if this crowd are the original Sakae? Were they supposed to be\r\nwhite?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI fancy so. At least, the old writers differentiate between them and\r\nthe Indians, whom Arrian refers to as being \xe2\x80\x98blacker than any other men\r\nexcept the \xc3\x86thiopians.\xe2\x80\x99 If the Sakae were dark, they\xe2\x80\x99d have mentioned\r\nit. But this girl is as white as you or me, and you\xe2\x80\x99d remark on her\r\nfairness even in England. I wonder who they can be. Not pure Greek, I\xe2\x80\x99m\r\nsure, if they\xe2\x80\x99re all like her.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe handed me the stuff he had made up, closed his case, and called to\r\nFiroz, who came up with his rifle slung over his shoulder, Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s\r\n_chaplis_ and _poshtin_, our second thermos and a bundle, presumably\r\nfood. Forsyth got his rifle, slung on a bandolier, and the two set off.\r\nI set Sadiq to roping up the loads, so as to be ready to move quickly\r\nif necessary, and then I went into the tent.\r\n\r\nThe girl was still awake so I lit the lantern which I had brought, for\r\nit was getting dark. Her colour had come back a lot now, and I realized\r\nmore than I had before how really beautiful she must be when she was\r\nwell.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you warm enough?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked. The evenings were getting chilly, and a\r\ncold wind had sprung up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; quite warm now, thank you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, anyway, I\xe2\x80\x99ll put this rug over your feet, so that you can pull\r\nit up later if you feel cold.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI took the rug off Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s bedding and spread it over the end of her\r\nbed. Then I began to pull out the two other bedding-rolls.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat are you doing?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTaking our bedding outside,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhose bed have I got?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMine, as a matter of fact. Why?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what are you going to do? You won\xe2\x80\x99t have enough things if you give\r\nme all these.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, we shall. One of us, if not two, will be up in the valley\r\nwatching all night in case the Shamans try to come out of the gate.\r\nThey won\xe2\x80\x99t get far if they do, though,\xe2\x80\x9d I added to reassure her.\r\n\r\nThen I tidied up the tent, and finally brought her Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s medicine.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe doctor sent you this to make you sleep. He says you\xe2\x80\x99re to go to\r\nsleep now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe drank it without a murmur.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs the tall fair man a doctor?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what are you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA soldier. At least I have been one for many years.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thought so,\xe2\x80\x9d she said reflectively.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd why?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause you look as if you made people do what they\xe2\x80\x99re told quickly\r\nwithout asking questions. Many soldiers look like that. My cousins do.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre they soldiers?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. But most of our people are soldiers to begin with until they\xe2\x80\x99re\r\nold enough to take over their father\xe2\x80\x99s land.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, you go to sleep now. You\xe2\x80\x99re quite safe here, so don\xe2\x80\x99t worry. One\r\nor other of us will be sleeping just outside the tent, so you can call\r\nif you want anything, and I\xe2\x80\x99ll leave the light burning.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHer eyes were bright, and she looked, as Forsyth said, as if sleep was\r\nthe only thing for her after what she\xe2\x80\x99d been through.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow can I call if I don\xe2\x80\x99t know your names?\xe2\x80\x9d she said.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMine\xe2\x80\x99s Harry Lake, and the doctor\xe2\x80\x99s is Forsyth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe didn\xe2\x80\x99t worry much about the latter name, but mine seemed to give\r\na little difficulty, for she repeated it two or three times, finally\r\ncompromising on \xe2\x80\x98Harilek.\xe2\x80\x99 And \xe2\x80\x98Harilek\xe2\x80\x99 I remained ever afterwards.\r\n\r\nI was just going to turn down the light when she asked--woman-like--in\r\na _very_ anxious voice--\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO Harilek! What about some clothes for to-morrow?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI admit I hadn\xe2\x80\x99t thought about that matter. How on earth were three\r\nwandering bachelors going to fit out a young woman--of remarkably\r\npleasing looks I thought again as I looked at her--from our exiguous\r\nmale wardrobes?\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99ll find something for you, all right,\xe2\x80\x9d I said, in my most\r\nreassuring tones. \xe2\x80\x9cBut ... we haven\xe2\x80\x99t got any skirts,\xe2\x80\x9d I added.\r\n\r\nShe laughed then--a real laugh--the first I\xe2\x80\x99d heard from her, and\r\nthought it a good sign that she was getting back her spirits.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI didn\xe2\x80\x99t think you would have, Harilek. You\xe2\x80\x99re not the sort of people\r\nthat would have skirts with you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou seem to understand very quickly just what sort of people we are,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nI said, rather nettled as I turned the light half down.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c_You_ are not at all difficult to understand--soldier man--at least\r\nnot to a woman, though doubtless you think your soldiers can\xe2\x80\x99t read\r\nyour mind.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTime you went to sleep, lady. By the way, you haven\xe2\x80\x99t told me your\r\nname yet.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAryenis,\xe2\x80\x9d[5] she said, snuggling down on my worn pillow.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSleep well, Aryenis; you\xe2\x80\x99re quite safe now, so don\xe2\x80\x99t dream.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe closed her eyes. Then she opened them again, looked at me, and said\r\nvery slowly:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood-night, Harilek; good-night ... and thank you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI felt I\xe2\x80\x99d had my reward as I went out and softly pulled to the tent\r\nflies.\r\n\r\nI pottered about watching Sadiq rope up loads, lending him a hand\r\nwith the more difficult ones. Then I made him refill the last tank,\r\ninspected the others, went over the loads--nearly everything except our\r\nsleeping kit and the tent was roped up--and finally, realizing that\r\nI was very weary, rolled into Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s bedding, and lay out in the\r\nstillness watching the moon rising over the desert to the east of the\r\nshadowy hills.\r\n\r\nI suppose it was nearly three hours later that I heard footsteps on the\r\nstones, and got up to find Firoz coming back with a note from Wrexham:\r\n\r\n No movement in front, but saw lights in arrow-slits at dusk, so sent\r\n some shots over and lights went out.\r\n\r\n A bit jumpy till the moon got high, and fired precautionary shots at\r\n intervals. After the moon was up did another crawl to see the fellows\r\n you laid out. A villainous-looking crowd. Three dead, one just on it,\r\n and the fifth won\xe2\x80\x99t last long. Couldn\xe2\x80\x99t pull the old man over to our\r\n side owing to the noise, or might have buried him decently.\r\n\r\n Alec will come back later. He told me what the girl said, and we will\r\n trek at dawn, hugging the cliffs eastward. A. will give you further\r\n details.\r\n\r\n Payindah full of blood and battle. Wants to know who the \xe2\x80\x9cmem\xe2\x80\x9d is?\r\n\r\n J. W.\r\n\r\nI explained things to Firoz, and went up to the tent door and peeped\r\nin. The girl was asleep, her eyes closed, and her breathing slow and\r\nregular. Evidently Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s medicine was working all right.\r\n\r\nThen, feeling thoroughly tired, I told Firoz to keep awake, curled\r\nup in Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s bedding again, and in a few minutes, despite a very\r\ntender face, was asleep. A somewhat broken sleep it was, full of dreams\r\nabout arrows and savage men, sometimes my mail-jacketed friends of the\r\nafternoon, sometimes older souvenirs; and in the midst of them all a\r\nvision, big hazel-grey eyes, a very kissable kind of mouth, and a cloud\r\nof red-gold hair over white shoulders. Then once a picture of all that\r\nwith a slim white body waiting bravely for death, and lastly, a sweet,\r\nlow voice saying, \xe2\x80\x9cGood-night, Harilek; good-night ... and thank you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nI had no more dreams after that.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER X\r\n\r\nBELOW THE CLIFFS\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was past four o\xe2\x80\x99clock when Forsyth woke me up, and I rolled out of\r\nmy blankets into the cold dawn. The wind had dropped now, however.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTime to turn out, old thing,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99ve got to be under way by\r\nsix. How\xe2\x80\x99s the face?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA bit sore,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, as I tightened up my _chaplis_. \xe2\x80\x9cWhere\xe2\x80\x99s John?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStill sitting up at the end of the pass. He\xe2\x80\x99s not coming back. We\xe2\x80\x99re\r\nto pack up and start off to the east. He and Payindah will stay there\r\ntill it\xe2\x80\x99s light, and then come away following us as rear-guard. Nothing\r\nhappened all the time I was there. But old Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s a hard nut. Wish I\r\nhad half his nerve. He went crawling among the bones nearly up to the\r\ngate to look-see.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nFiroz was setting out cups and plates on the _yakhdans_ by the light of\r\na hurricane-lamp. In the moonlight I could see the camels kneeling down\r\nand Sadiq carrying up loads. Evidently Forsyth had been busy since he\r\ncame back.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFirst thing is to get some clothes for the lady,\xe2\x80\x9d he continued.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re the nearest size; I\xe2\x80\x99m too long and John\xe2\x80\x99s too fat. What can you\r\nraise? That pair of grey flannel trousers you keep for state occasions\r\nand your other shooting-coat will do as a start.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve got a Jaeger sweater, too, and a pair of old tennis-shoes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood, and I\xe2\x80\x99ve got my one and only silk shirt. Don\xe2\x80\x99t suppose she\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\nwant to wear your sweater next to her skin. Thank goodness, I\xe2\x80\x99ve got a\r\nlot of safety-pins in my outfit. That\xe2\x80\x99s the chief essential as far as\r\nwomen go. Well, if you help Sadiq, I\xe2\x80\x99ll go and wake her up; I\xe2\x80\x99m glad\r\nshe got to sleep. I was afraid she might break down if she didn\xe2\x80\x99t.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nTen minutes later, he returned chuckling to where I was helping Sadiq\r\nrope things on to the camels.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cD----d lucky you have a fellow with you who\xe2\x80\x99s been brought up by a\r\ncrowd of sisters. I wonder what the wretched girl would have done if\r\nshe\xe2\x80\x99d been handed over to the tender mercies of you and John.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nConsidering the trouble I\xe2\x80\x99d taken to collect the lady, and the fact\r\nthat I have a perfectly good sister myself, I thought the taunt was\r\nunmerited. So I merely asked:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhose sisters?\xe2\x80\x9d whereupon Forsyth answered in quite a peeved way that\r\nhe meant his own.\r\n\r\nBy a quarter to five, we had everything loaded up save the food\r\n_yakhdans_, the tent, and my valise, which Aryenis was using. We cast\r\nanxious eyes on the tent as time went on, but it was just on five when\r\nshe emerged and came over to us, rather shyly, I thought. I got up\r\n(Forsyth, seeing her coming, had gone to get Sadiq to strike the tent)\r\nand said good-morning, inquiring after her shoulder and arms.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy arms are all right now, and my shoulder\xe2\x80\x99s not hurting much,\xe2\x80\x9d she\r\nsaid, and asked after my face.\r\n\r\nBeing a woman, she had done a lot with the miscellaneous outfit,\r\nmostly mine, which Forsyth had presented to her. I noticed that, as he\r\nprophesied, the silk shirt _was_ inside the sweater, and, being a mere\r\nman, wished it was the other way about. You see, the sweater was mine.\r\n\r\nI felt sorry for her having to make her appearance like this, with my\r\nbaggy grey trousers tucked into a pair of very old stockings ending in\r\nmy tennis-shoes, about four sizes too big. She had swathed her hair in\r\na big silk handkerchief, rather moth-eaten, but an old treasure which\r\nhad outlasted me many _dhobis_.\r\n\r\nI made her put on my _poshtin_, which came right down to her feet, and\r\nI think she was glad of the warmth. Then I offered her Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s valise\r\nto sit on, and sat down on one of the _yakhdans_. She looked a great\r\ndeal better than the night before, though still a bit worn. I expect\r\nshe was feeling the strain of all she\xe2\x80\x99d been through.\r\n\r\nFiroz appeared with a teapot, some _chupattis_, and a dish of salmon,\r\nthe kind that grows in tins. As he put them down, he greeted Aryenis\r\nwith, \xe2\x80\x9cSalaam, Miss Sahib. _Ab achhe hain?_\xe2\x80\x9d It was noticeable the way\r\nthe men treated her from the very beginning as a person of consequence.\r\nI explained that he was asking if she was feeling better, and she\r\nsmiled at him and thanked him in Greek. Doubtless Payindah had told him\r\nhow brave she had been, and they were both her very devoted slaves ever\r\nafterwards.\r\n\r\nI poured out some tea and helped her to some fish. I noticed that knife\r\nand spoon were familiar enough, but that the fork rather defeated her,\r\nand could see that she was watching carefully to see what I did with\r\nmine.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDid you sleep last night, Harilek? You must have been cold out in the\r\nwind.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPretty well, thanks. And you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMore than well, as I ought to have, since you have given me your\r\ntent and all your things. And this morning when the doctor brought me\r\nthe clothes, he gave me the most wonderful mirror I have ever seen. I\r\nthought I was looking at a real person, not a mirror, when I looked in\r\nit. It was like the glass round the lamp, but I\xe2\x80\x99ve never seen glass\r\nthat you can see through before. Ours is thick and coloured, and we\r\nonly make plates and beads of it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat do you do for mirrors, then?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMetal. I\xe2\x80\x99ve got two of bronze, but they are not nearly as good as your\r\nglass ones. Yours must be a wonderful country if three men travelling\r\non a journey in the desert have all sorts of things like that with\r\nthem.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I expect our things must seem strange to you, having been cut off\r\nfrom the big world so long.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat am I eating, Harilek? This pink stuff?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s a fish of our country.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut you said your country was ever so far away! How could you bring\r\nfish with you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, we seal it up in boxes, and it keeps for months and years. It\r\ntastes all right, doesn\xe2\x80\x99t it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite. But how very wonderful.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot half as wonderful as finding some one like you here, just like our\r\nown people.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAm I like your women?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, only nicer-looking than most.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNice compliments, Harilek, considering the things I\xe2\x80\x99m wearing. _I_\r\nknow what I look like to-day. If you wanted to make pretty speeches,\r\nyou shouldn\xe2\x80\x99t have let the doctor give me the mirror. But I mean are\r\nyour women fair like me? And what sort of clothes do they wear?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDon\xe2\x80\x99t ask me. All sorts.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI see. Not trousers like these things, I hope!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; not trousers like those. Skirts. I hope _you_ don\xe2\x80\x99t wear\r\ntrousers--like that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe gave a sniff of disgust.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, Harilek! _Skirts._ Nice short ones.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHaving loaded the tent, Forsyth came over, made a hurried breakfast,\r\nlooked at his watch, and said:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99d better finish packing up. It\xe2\x80\x99s twenty-five past five, and I told\r\nJohn we\xe2\x80\x99d get away by six.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s left to pack?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOnly the mess things, but that\xe2\x80\x99ll take a quarter of an hour, at least.\r\nHi, Firoz!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook here, we\xe2\x80\x99d better take a hand at washing up these things. We\r\ndon\xe2\x80\x99t want to pack \xe2\x80\x99em up all dirty,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll just dip \xe2\x80\x99em in the\r\nstream.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth had turned Aryenis off the valise and was roping it up. Seeing\r\nme with my hands full of plates going to the stream, thirty yards away,\r\nshe gathered up the remaining cups and saucers and followed. I was on\r\nmy knees by the stream when she arrived, evidently anxious to help. She\r\nsaid something about that being woman\xe2\x80\x99s work, from which I imagine she\r\nthought I might be doing something more useful. However, we finished\r\nthe job together, and, coming back with the lot washed up, packed them\r\ninto the _yakhdans_. Then we roped on the last loads, and cast a final\r\nglance over everything.\r\n\r\nFiroz brought up the spare camel and made it kneel down. You remember\r\nit had a riding-saddle on. The grunts and gurgles and the long,\r\nwrithing neck and open mouth rather frightened Aryenis, who drew back\r\na pace. She was evidently not familiar with camels, for she had been\r\nlooking at them curiously before. At last she asked me what beasts they\r\nwere.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCamels,\xe2\x80\x9d I said. \xe2\x80\x9cHave you none in your country?\xe2\x80\x9d I had to say the\r\nword several times in different forms before she understood it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCamels. Yes, I have read of them in old books. No, we have none.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI was just going to make the camel get up, having settled her as\r\ncomfortably as I could in the saddle, when Forsyth told me to mount.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99d better ride as well, Harry,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cYou can see better aloft,\r\nand it\xe2\x80\x99ll be company for the lady. It may also be less painful for your\r\nface than stumbling along over the stones.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs that camel had carried nothing for its keep for the last fortnight,\r\nI was very ready. Besides, it would give me a chance of talking a bit\r\nmore to Aryenis. Since she was, so to speak, the captive of my bow and\r\nspear, or rather of my pistol and my particular slave\xe2\x80\x99s rifle, I did\r\nnot see why Forsyth should do the talking. So I swung myself into the\r\nfront seat, made her hold on tight, and pulled the camel to its feet.\r\n\r\nThe coming dawn had lightened the sky, and everything showed ghostly in\r\nthe faint mixture of moonlight and dawn. I looked at my watch. It was\r\nfive minutes past six.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAll aboard,\xe2\x80\x9d I called to Forsyth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRight-o. All ready. Lead straight along, hugging the cliffs.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe camel stepped out; behind me the big black leader\xe2\x80\x99s bell tinkled,\r\nand looking back I saw the long line of swaying necks, with Firoz with\r\nhis slung rifle and Sadiq trailing the shot-gun on foot beside them.\r\nForsyth was evidently at the tail.\r\n\r\nWe crossed the _tangi_ mouth, and passed on beyond under the frowning\r\ncliffs. Aryenis looked up the gorge with a little shiver as we passed.\r\nShe must have been glad to see the last of it.\r\n\r\nThe going was not bad at the foot of the slope on the edge of the sand.\r\nAbove us towered the cliffs, gaunt, bare rock, grey in the light of\r\nthe growing dawn, and on our right was the trackless ocean of rippled\r\nsand with the dunes growing in height toward the horizon. The sky was\r\ncolourless, and the stars, already faint in the moonlight, were rapidly\r\npaling before the coming sun, hidden from us as yet by the giant wall\r\nabove. But the western sky flung back a faint reflection of the coming\r\nglory, and soon the western edge of the desert grew golden as the sun\r\nswung up and the mountains\xe2\x80\x99 shadow shortened eastward toward us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe dawn is very beautiful, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, pointing to the\r\ntranslucent sky and the golden light on the desert\xe2\x80\x99s fringe. \xe2\x80\x9cI never\r\nthought to look on it again yesterday. Think you will be able to get me\r\nback home all right?\xe2\x80\x9d There was an anxious note in her voice.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI hope so, Aryenis. But you\xe2\x80\x99ve got to show us the way. Still, I don\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nthink we should have found you if we weren\xe2\x80\x99t going to get you home.\r\nSome day I\xe2\x80\x99ll tell you how we came here. To my mind it\xe2\x80\x99s all too\r\nwonderful to be nothing but chance. I think it must have been meant.\r\nNo, I think we shall get you home all right to the people who are\r\nwaiting for you; your father and--who else?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nA sudden thought had struck me, a most unpleasing one. I\xe2\x80\x99m not more\r\nsentimental than the average Englishman is underneath his veneer,\r\nbut, after all, I had taken some trouble over Aryenis, and the idea\r\nof having salved some one else\xe2\x80\x99s property was naturally unattractive.\r\nBesides, every moment seemed to show her as a person exceptionally\r\nworth taking trouble over. I had expected to find--if we did find white\r\nfolk--something half-barbaric, and here was a distinctly cultured and\r\nexceptionally attractive girl.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s my brother Stephnos and old Uncle Paulos and heaps more\r\npeople. I\xe2\x80\x99ve got lots of friends.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI breathed a distinct sigh of relief. I didn\xe2\x80\x99t mind taking trouble\r\nabout salving people\xe2\x80\x99s daughters or sisters or mere friends.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, Harilek. You said you thought you were meant to find me. What did\r\nyou mean? Who meant it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWho meant it? Why, who could mean a thing like that except one person?\r\nGod, of course.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDid you say God or the gods?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGod. We only believe in one. How many do you believe in?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe only believe in one, although some of our people believe in many, a\r\nthing that brings strife sometimes. My father says part of the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99\r\nenmity comes from this, since they believe in many very evil gods.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThis was a bit of a surprise. I had hardly expected to find monotheists\r\nin this country. It was fairly clear that these people were some old\r\nprehistoric survival of the original white races, and could hardly have\r\nreceived Mohammedanism. Anyway, Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s independence showed clearly\r\nthat the tents of Islam had not reached her country when they had\r\nswamped the greater part of Central Asia.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut, Harilek, you say you only believe in one. How is He called?\xe2\x80\x9d She\r\nseemed very interested.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cJust God. But if you can understand, we also believe that He had a son\r\nChrist, who came into the world in the guise of a man--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut,\xe2\x80\x9d she said excitedly, \xe2\x80\x9cthen you are Christians even as we are!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI could hardly believe my ears. It is true that there are scattered\r\nNestorian Christians in Chinese Turkestan, but how on earth could\r\nthese isolated people be Christians! I turned round to Aryenis in\r\nbewilderment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou seem surprised.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo are you, Aryenis.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, it is _rather_ wonderful. I think--with you, Harilek--that all\r\nthis must be meant.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe was silent for a minute. Then she went on.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre all of you Christians? The doctor and the other, and the\r\ndarker-faced men?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe darker-faced men are not, though they also believe in one God, but\r\nthey do not believe in Christ, saying that He was only a great prophet,\r\nnot God. My two friends are Christians by birth, but the doctor says\r\nthat such things are beyond him, and he will not believe in anything he\r\ncannot see or handle and prove for himself. Wrexham--the stout man you\r\nsaw for a minute last night--believes in God, I think, but he pretends\r\nhe is not sure, and so, like many people, from wanting to be quite sure\r\nof everything, he is not even sure of not believing.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat must be very sad for him.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is, since he is such a good man. However, if we get to heaven we\r\nshall find him and lots more up above us, all right, for all the good\r\nthings they have done so much better than we who, knowing more, should\r\nbe better than they.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTrue, Harilek. You, like me, are clearly a believer in the faith. I am\r\nmore than glad.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe were silent a little after that, and then she asked where Wrexham\r\nwas, so I told her what he was doing, and how he had tried to get the\r\nold chief\xe2\x80\x99s body back to bury.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe is clearly a brave man. Fancy crawling right up to the gates like\r\nthat,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis. \xe2\x80\x9cIs he also a soldier?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot always, though he has fought much. He is an engineer, one who\r\nhas knowledge of building and mines, and the making of all kinds of\r\nmetal-work and such things.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd the darker-faced men?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, they are soldiers. One of them--the one who spoke to you this\r\nmorning--is one of the kind skilled in making forts and in attacking\r\nthem. He was with Wrexham in the wars. The other is an ordinary soldier\r\nwho was under my command. Both are very brave and have seen many\r\nbattles.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut why have they darker faces than you? At least, their faces are not\r\nmuch darker than yours, Harilek, but their skins are, as I can tell\r\nby their hands and feet. But your face is only dark from sun, for your\r\nskin is white like mine. I could see that when your hat was off. Are\r\nthey of a different race?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. They live in a very hot country which is ruled by my people.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd were you a commander of many men there?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDuring the war I was a commander of a thousand men, like the one who\r\nhelped us in the gate.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThis was a bit of an exaggeration considering the frequently pitiable\r\nproportions of my battalion in the more hectic days of the war. Still,\r\nat the d\xc3\xa9p\xc3\xb4t I once commanded nearly thirteen hundred, so the average\r\nwas not too bad. Besides, \xe2\x80\x9ccommander of a thousand\xe2\x80\x9d sounded something\r\nlike an old Greek title I remembered, and I couldn\xe2\x80\x99t go into details of\r\nmodern military organization.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98Commander of a thousand.\xe2\x80\x99 Then you must be a big chief.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot a bit. Only quite a little one. My country is very big.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, when you were older--for you are not old, any of you--you would\r\nhave been a commander of many more--a really big chief,\xe2\x80\x9d said she, with\r\nfeminine ignorance and optimism.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps, perhaps not. But, anyway, I gave up being a soldier, and was\r\ngoing back to my land in my own country where my sister lives. Then\r\nWrexham persuaded me to come with him to look for these hills which\r\nwere once seen by one of his ancestors.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nJust then Forsyth came up and suggested our halting for a while.\r\nWrexham and Payindah ought to be up with us, for we had been going over\r\ntwo hours. If not, we ought to wait, and, if they did not come soon, go\r\nback.\r\n\r\nWe dismounted and caused Aryenis intense astonishment with our pipes.\r\nEvidently tobacco was unknown in the Sakae country. However, a shock or\r\ntwo more was nothing after the number she\xe2\x80\x99d had. But the box of matches\r\nintrigued her tremendously. I think, after the mirror, the matches\r\nwere the thing which took her fancy most of all. Both were articles of\r\npractical utility, whereas guns and watches--especially watches--were\r\nobviously inconsequential frills to the feminine mind, playthings for\r\nthe stupider sex, but of no use to the more practical one intent on\r\nmuch bigger problems of dress and the household. Aryenis, like most\r\nwomen, had only three times she took notice of--past, Present (with a\r\ncapital P), and future. The idea of a finicky division into hours and\r\nminutes struck her severely logical mind as absolutely unnecessary.\r\n\r\nThe more I saw of Aryenis, the more convinced did I become that\r\nwoman--the ever-changing--never changes at all in reality. Except that\r\nAryenis is much nicer-looking and cleverer, there is not the slightest\r\ndifference between her and the various women I used to meet at home.\r\n\r\nHalf an hour later Wrexham and Payindah came up, the latter carrying\r\nthe steel cap of the first fellow I had killed. The irrepressible\r\nWrexham had collected it as a souvenir. Nothing would have induced\r\nme to crawl out into the clearing under the gate merely to gather a\r\nuseless bit of loot.\r\n\r\nHe said that they had seen no signs of life all night, save for the\r\nlights mentioned in his note. At daybreak some arrows had been fired\r\nrather aimlessly from the loopholes toward the gorge, whereupon he\r\nand Payindah had opened rapid fire at the arrow-slits, and the arrows\r\nforthwith ceased for good.\r\n\r\nAfter spending an hour sniping the gate at longer and longer intervals,\r\nthey had connected up the booby-traps Wrexham had prepared with his\r\nlittle tin of powder and slipped noiselessly away.\r\n\r\nHe reckoned the enemy would not venture to follow us for a while, and\r\nif they did the booby-traps would stop them the first time they tried,\r\neven if not indefinitely. All five of the men in the clearing were dead\r\nnow, and no effort had been made from the gate to get them in, so the\r\nenemy were obviously pretty panicky. Still, for the rest of the time we\r\nwere under the cliffs we never dispensed with a sentry at night.\r\n\r\nWe travelled steadily for three days, following the line of cliffs,\r\nwhich curved very gradually toward the northeast, with, to our right,\r\nalways the waste of sand. Aryenis told us that, as far as she knew, the\r\nwhole country was ringed with hills and surrounded by desert on all\r\nsides. According to her, it was a big country, since it was six days\xe2\x80\x99\r\njourney from one side to the other even on horseback. Allowing twenty\r\nmiles a day as a maximum, and taking off something for the roads being\r\nwinding, as they must be in a country obviously hilly, that meant at\r\nleast a hundred miles across. As a matter of fact, our estimate proved\r\npretty accurate, for later on Wrexham made a rough survey of it, and it\r\nwas over the hundred in length and nearly seventy in breadth.\r\n\r\nThe marches were as monotonous as the one across the desert had been,\r\nand we saw no signs of life and found no water. It was lucky we had\r\nbeen able to water the animals and fill up our tanks before we started\r\nfrom the gate. The camels were now very gaunt and getting weak, for\r\nwe had had to reduce their ration to a minimum. It was clear that, if\r\nwe could not get into the country, our chances of ever getting back\r\nhome again were small, since the camels would be too weak for the long\r\nmarches back across the desert, even although we had water. They wanted\r\nrest and grazing badly. Still, I think that none of us felt really\r\ndepressed, since up to date things had worked out so extraordinarily\r\nwell. The rain in the desert and our finding Aryenis both served to\r\nstrengthen our idea that we were meant to get through.\r\n\r\nAryenis herself kept our spirits up. She had quite recovered her own,\r\nand the prospect of getting back to her home, of which she was clearly\r\npassionately fond, kept her ever cheerful, even despite the trials of\r\nher wardrobe.\r\n\r\nI never wish to meet more cheerful company. She was _bonne camarade_\r\nfrom the very beginning. She had apparently sized us up the first\r\nnight; had come to the conclusion that for mere men we were quite\r\nrespectable beings, and treated us accordingly. By the end of the\r\nsecond day she had taken command of the table, and especially of the\r\nteapot. Tea, like tobacco, was unknown to her, but she took to the\r\nformer at once, and, when Wrexham had instructed her in the art of\r\nmaking it, made it herself at every meal, Firoz coming obediently with\r\nreally boiling water. It was a notable change from the gun-fire type\r\nwhich we had drunk hitherto.\r\n\r\nI was afraid at first that Firoz might resent her taking charge,\r\nremembering the speedy disappearance of the old servants of my various\r\nbachelor acquaintances when their masters took unto themselves wives.\r\nBut Firoz took it absolutely lying down, until Aryenis--not knowing\r\na word of his language--superintended all our meals. The third day,\r\nwhile we were fixing up camp, I saw her over at Firoz\xe2\x80\x99s fire, much\r\ngesticulating going on, and the lady herself apparently cooking\r\nsomething.\r\n\r\nThat night she was first at table, and, after the inevitable corned\r\nbeef, Firoz uncovered with great pride two plates of crisp cakes and\r\nsome sweets. Aryenis, investigating our kitchen arrangements, had\r\ninquired concerning our _chupattis_, which she considered extremely\r\nnasty, and the upshot had been Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s producing some baking powder,\r\nunheeded since the flight of the cook, and explaining its use. She\r\nannexed it forthwith, as well as a tin of condensed milk, a discovery\r\nthat delighted her when she was told what it was.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, \xe2\x80\x9cthose are worth eating. I made them myself, and\r\nI know. Why do men when they do not have a woman to nurse them content\r\nthemselves with anything that a servant puts in front of them?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe were dumb, as always, when Aryenis reproved us. I\xe2\x80\x99ve never seen\r\ntwo unattached men lie down to be kicked so meekly as did Wrexham and\r\nForsyth once she announced--not in words, of course--her intention\r\nof ruling the place as long as she honoured us with her presence. I,\r\nmyself, having for many years been under a masterful elder sister who\r\ntook me over at the age of three when my mother died, had long since\r\nlearnt the folly of pretending to have a will of my own, except when I\r\ncould get out of range, and, of course, situated as we were, we could\r\nnot get out of range of Aryenis.\r\n\r\nThe first evening out she commandeered all our available stack of\r\nneedles, thread, and the like, and proceeded to overhaul our frayed and\r\nmuch-worn clothes, so that by the third day there were buttons where\r\nbuttons should be, and patches where had hitherto been only openwork.\r\n\r\nYes; she took charge of us as if we were a trio of small boys mislaid\r\nby their parents, and--we liked it.\r\n\r\nShe gazed upon us in turn after her remarks about our manner of\r\nliving, as though defying us to produce any reasonable reason, and,\r\nseeing that we were suitably worm-like, passed the sweets round. Sugar\r\nwas evidently familiar enough to her. We had only the coarse bazaar\r\narticle, and found much the same in Sakae land.\r\n\r\nWe began once more to consider our personal appearance, even\r\nthough water was so scarce. Forsyth wore a tie at every meal, for\r\ninstance--only a khaki one, it is true, but still a tie. This excited\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s emulation, and, searching among our kit under pretence of\r\nrepairs, she found an old regimental tie of mine which had somehow\r\nfailed to get lost or stolen during our six months\xe2\x80\x99 march. She\r\nforthwith took it into wear, knotted about her throat rather _\xc3\xa0 la\r\nMontmartre_, and asked me why I had hidden such a treasure when I was\r\ngetting clothes for her.\r\n\r\nDespite anxiety about the future, the weakening camels, our limited\r\nwater-supply, and the possibility of not finding a way up--a\r\npossibility we did not like to reflect on overmuch, since it spelt\r\nsomething not unlike a two to one chance of dying in the sand trying to\r\nget back, we were, thanks to Aryenis, a comparatively cheerful little\r\nparty, especially in the evenings. We had picked up a certain amount of\r\nfuel by the stream banks outside the gate where there were some small\r\ntrees and a good quantity of thick reeds, and after the evening meal\r\neach night Firoz brought us over the remains of his cooking fire and\r\na handful or two of fuel, and we sat round it under the starlit sky.\r\nAryenis, with the firelight playing on her face, my old tie making a\r\nsplash of colour in the big black collar of her _poshtin_, the skirts\r\nof which mostly concealed the offending blot of the flannel trousers,\r\ncurled up on the rugs we spread for her; the rest of us sitting round\r\nsmoking, while we answered her endless questions about our country,\r\nor Forsyth strummed to us on his tiny banjoline, and gave us _revue_\r\nselections in his pleasing baritone, and then Aryenis in a real clear\r\nsoprano sang us haunting snatches--music like old, old Western chant.\r\nAnd in the background the dim forms of the camels, the silhouette of\r\nthe little tent, and the low murmur of the men\xe2\x80\x99s talk round their\r\nbubbling hookah.\r\n\r\nWe might be going to leave our bones in the sand at the end of it all,\r\nbut taking Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s cue, we lived in the Present (with the capital P),\r\nand three very pleasant days they were, and evenings that ended all too\r\nsoon when Aryenis finally retired to the tent, and we rolled into our\r\nblankets under the open sky.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XI\r\n\r\nTHE CAVES\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe way lies up there,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, pointing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan we climb up to those caves? I know that is the place, because I\r\nremember the arch.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe was guiding the riding camel, with me as a passenger behind.\r\nHer first slight apprehension of the ungainly beasts had quickly\r\ndisappeared, and for the last two days she had insisted on the front\r\nseat and the control of the nose-rope.\r\n\r\nWe were a few hundred yards out into the sand from the base of the\r\ncliffs, where, after marching six miles on the fourth morning, we\r\nhad found under a projecting shoulder of rock, a little spring-fed\r\npool with a stream running away out into the sands, doubtless to be\r\nswallowed up before very far. There was some scant vegetation, and\r\nWrexham had halted the camels for water.\r\n\r\nA mile and a half beyond us was a semi-detached hill, which jutted\r\nout from the main mass, still steep as ever. It projected a mile or\r\nso into the desert--a long hog-back of rock, with sides precipitous\r\nenough for the first three or four hundred feet, but which then sloped\r\ncomparatively gently to the crest.\r\n\r\nWhen we stopped at the water, Aryenis, who had been scanning the\r\noutlying hill ever since it first showed up, edged her camel out into\r\nthe sand, and then gave a cry of joy, as round the shoulder of rock we\r\nsaw the point where the outlying hill joined the main wall.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was right. Look; there is the great arch,\xe2\x80\x9d she had cried.\r\n\r\nThe outlier joined on to the high cliffs at a height of perhaps sixteen\r\nhundred or seventeen hundred feet. But at the junction swelled up the\r\nmost peculiar natural formation I have ever seen. It was a giant arch\r\nof limestone, formed of strata bent by some primeval convulsion of the\r\nearth, and from which in the course of ages the central softer layers\r\nhad been weathered away, leaving the hard outer ones as a true arch.\r\n\r\nOne sees many cases where the strata run up into partial arches,\r\nleaving, as it were, the piers on either side and perhaps a small piece\r\nof the bow, but the central portion is always lacking, either snapped\r\nin the original disruption or weathered away later. Never before have\r\nI met a case of the whole fold remaining in arched form. Springing up\r\nfrom the crest of the hog-back to a height of some three hundred feet\r\nover a wide bow, it then curved in to join the great precipitous wall\r\nwe had followed these last four days.\r\n\r\nAnd just above it in the cliff face were some dark shadows, which\r\nAryenis was indicating as the caves of which she had told us.\r\nOn looking with my glasses they proved to be, as she had said,\r\nunmistakable openings.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan we climb up there?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked again impatiently.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey seem some height above the arch, and the sides of the lower hill\r\nare none too easy. But if we can get up anywhere, it will be at the\r\npoint farthest out, which looks lower than the rest. We\xe2\x80\x99ll call the\r\nothers and ride over there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe fetched Wrexham and Forsyth, and showed them the great arch and the\r\ncaves above.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy Jove, what a quaint formation!\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve never seen a\r\nthing of that type on such a scale. I\xe2\x80\x99ve seen tiny editions of it, but\r\nnever anything approaching that size. It\xe2\x80\x99ll take a bit of climbing, I\r\nshould say, looking at it from here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs we went out to the far end of the lower hill, we asked Aryenis if\r\nthe caves were used by her people.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. No one ever goes there now. They are very deep, and are supposed\r\nto have spirits in them, and people are afraid to go down into their\r\ndarkness. They were once an old pagan temple, I think.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow did you find your way into them, then?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\nShe laughed. \xe2\x80\x9cMy brother teased me about being afraid of the dark, so\r\nI told him I was much braver than he was, and that I would go down\r\ninto the caves. We have a house quite close to them. And I said that he\r\nwouldn\xe2\x80\x99t dare to come. So, of course, he came. There were long, long\r\ndark passages, but we had a lantern, and we didn\xe2\x80\x99t see or hear anything\r\nat all. At the end we came out into a big open cave with pillars carved\r\nin it, and some smaller caves on each side. All had openings looking\r\ndown on that big arch. Afterwards we brought my father there, but none\r\nof the other people come, for they are rather afraid of spirits, and\r\nthe caves don\xe2\x80\x99t take you anywhere.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhen we got to the far end where the hog-back terminated above the\r\ndesert, we found that, as we had thought, the sheer part was nothing\r\nlike so high as nearer to the main cliff. Also it was not so smooth.\r\nThere were lines of jagged broken strata and projecting folds of rock\r\nand crevices, and Forsyth considered it was easily climbable.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, now, the thing is to camp by that water. There is a little\r\ngrazing for the camels, the same kind as you find at the other side of\r\nthe desert, so they can\xe2\x80\x99t take any harm from it. It will be something\r\ngreen for them to chew,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes,\xe2\x80\x9d answered Wrexham, \xe2\x80\x9cand then, directly we\xe2\x80\x99ve had a mouthful\r\nof food, Alec and I, with Payindah, will come over here again and\r\nreconnoitre the way up. You say Payindah climbs fairly well. Firoz is\r\nrather heavy-footed on a hill. You and Aryenis can stop in camp and see\r\nthings fixed up. A restful afternoon won\xe2\x80\x99t do either of you any harm,\r\nespecially with that face of yours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nMy wound was healing up cleanly, much to Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s and still more to\r\nmy own satisfaction; but it was inclined to be painful, especially\r\nat night, and a quiet afternoon would be by no means unwelcome, more\r\nparticularly as there would be Aryenis to keep me company. It\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nfunny how circumstances alter things. I suppose it was the unusual\r\nsurroundings which had thrown us together so much during the last four\r\ndays, but I couldn\xe2\x80\x99t help feeling that I had known her for years and\r\nyears--in fact, absurd as it sounds, I really at the moment couldn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\npicture any kind of existence in which she would be absent. Probably\r\nthe wide loneliness of the desert had much to do with it.\r\n\r\nAbout midday the reconnoitring party set off. Aryenis and I walked out\r\nfar enough from the pool where we had camped to be able to see the arch.\r\n\r\nWhile the others were making their way across the sand to the end of\r\nthe hill, Aryenis turned to me and reminded me that I had not yet told\r\nhow we had found our way to the hills across the desert. So I gave her\r\nan outline of the story of old John Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s journey, and the things\r\nhe had written in his diary. Then I went on to tell her how Wrexham had\r\ncome up in 1919 to prospect, and of the man he had found.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut how wonderful to think that a single man could have made his way\r\nso far across the desert. And how extraordinary your friend\xe2\x80\x99s finding\r\nhim in the way he did. I wonder who he could have been. Were there any\r\nthings on him to tell?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; there was a picture which we have with us here, and we think it\r\nmust be one of his sister because of the writing on it. I\xe2\x80\x99ll get it, if\r\nyou like.... Why, what is it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s exclamation of wonder had stopped me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA picture of his sister! But we were sure he had died in the gate when\r\nthe Shamans captured him! Tell me,\xe2\x80\x9d she went on breathlessly, \xe2\x80\x9cwas the\r\nname \xe2\x80\x98Euphrosine\xe2\x80\x99 on the picture? A girl with brown hair and blue eyes?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; that\xe2\x80\x99s it. I hope it wasn\xe2\x80\x99t some great friend of yours?\xe2\x80\x9d I said,\r\nseeing her eyes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut it was! It was Zin\xc3\xa9\xe2\x80\x99s brother! She\xe2\x80\x99s my greatest friend. But, no!\r\nIt isn\xe2\x80\x99t a great shock, because we were sure he was dead. We never even\r\nthought of him being alive, although the spies said they believed he\r\nhad escaped from the gate. But, in the first place, we did not believe\r\nthem, and then, although a certain archer of the chief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s guard,\r\nwho professed a secret friendliness for our folk, and we did our best\r\nto help him through them, we never thought he could traverse the\r\ndesert, nor did we know what lay beyond.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe was silent a space, her lips moving, praying, I think, for the\r\nman\xe2\x80\x99s soul after the manner of the Christian Sakae.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWho was he, then, and how came he by his death, or rather by the\r\ncaptivity that led to it?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked at last.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe was one of the biggest chiefs of the Green Sakae. As I told you,\r\nthe Shamans for some years have been overcoming the other clans--the\r\nRed, Brown, and Green Sakae--always beginning by stirring up the people\r\nagainst their chiefs. Some were slain by their own folk, misled by the\r\nShamans\xe2\x80\x99 guile; then others, whose people would not rise against them,\r\nwere attacked by the Shamans when the country was weakened, and so\r\noverthrown and slain, save some few who escaped to us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen the state of the Green Sakae country was at its worst,\r\nCarius--that was his name--sent Zin\xc3\xa9 to stop with us for greater\r\nsafety, hoping that things would be better. But by treachery the\r\nShamans captured his fort by night. We heard that, though he made a\r\ngood fight, he was taken prisoner and carried off to their country.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy father tried to help him by spies--we were not at war with\r\nthe Shamans then, nor were we strong enough to invade their\r\ncountry--sending clothes and money, which the spies promised to get to\r\nhim if he were put out to death through the gate after the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99\r\ncruel fashion. And Zin\xc3\xa9 put the picture in with the clothes. The spies\r\ntold us they had succeeded with the help of the archer I mentioned, and\r\nsaid that it was common talk among the guard that next day his body\r\ncould not be found. So then for a space we hoped, believing that he had\r\ngot the things they said had been dropped over the cliffs and freed\r\nhimself and escaped. But after a while we felt sure he must be dead,\r\nand thought that the spies, after the manner of such men, lied to us to\r\nget the greater reward.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen is Euphrosine, or Zin\xc3\xa9, as you call her, still with you, or is\r\nthere peace in her country now?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; it is as bad as ever, for there is no rule, and the people fight\r\namong themselves, and the Shamans slay and pillage as they will, now\r\nhelping one section, now another, for they do not really desire to rule\r\nthe land themselves yet. They wish to destroy all law, so that they\r\nmay then easily set up their own customs, when folk are wearied of war\r\nand pillage and unable to resist them. I do not know much about their\r\nrule, save that some of their decrees are foul beyond imagining. As I\r\ntold you, they worship evil gods. But when we get home my father will\r\ntell you more about it all than I can. I think he hopes to destroy the\r\nShamans some day and restore peace to the other clans. Then, if he does\r\nthat, Zin\xc3\xa9 will be chief of her clan again, for she has no other close\r\nrelations.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo women rule, then, in your country?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut yes, sometimes, if there be no close male relatives. But I would\r\nnot like it, since it often means they have to marry some one whom they\r\nwould not, lest he whom they would marry be not acceptable to the clan.\r\nI am glad I have a brother.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nStrangely enough, so was I, though I did not say so.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo not women ever rule in your country, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d she went on.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, sometimes; and they sometimes do not like it for the same reason,\r\nthat their husbands are chosen for them.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhich is _quite_ wrong,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, with a defiant tilt of her\r\nwell-shaped chin. \xe2\x80\x9cA woman should always choose her own man, although,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nshe added as a minor qualification, \xe2\x80\x9cof course, he is always allowed to\r\nthink _he_ has done the choosing.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI believe it is like that in my own country, though I do not know\r\nfrom experience,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. Aryenis looked at me thoughtfully but said\r\nnothing, so I dropped the subject and rigged up the telescope. \xe2\x80\x9cThe\r\nothers ought to be in sight on the hill now. It\xe2\x80\x99s nearly an hour since\r\nthey left.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWithin a minute or so I picked them up, three tiny figures making their\r\nway up the more gentle slope above the cliff part. They worked upward\r\nuntil they reached the foot of the arch, where they halted awhile.\r\n\r\nThen slowly--slowly--they clambered up and up until at last all three\r\nstood erect and walked across the great bow till they stopped under the\r\ncliff face which towered above them. There they stayed for some time.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThink you they can get up to the caves? Oh, they _must_ be able\r\nto!\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, who was using my glasses. She picked up things\r\nextraordinarily quickly, though, like all women, the \xe2\x80\x9chow it worked\xe2\x80\x9d\r\ninterested her not at all. All she desired was a sufficiency of\r\nknowledge to get practical use out of things.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; they\xe2\x80\x99re sure to get up, though perhaps not this afternoon. They\r\nmay want more rope.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI pretended an assurance I was far from feeling. The cliff above the\r\nend of the arch looked sheer as a house wall and as smooth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey\xe2\x80\x99re coming back again,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis with a sigh of\r\ndisappointment. \xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t know any other way if we cannot climb that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI was more than disappointed. The possibility or otherwise of reaching\r\nthe caves was probably life or death to us all. But we hadn\xe2\x80\x99t told\r\nAryenis that. Gloomily and silently we watched them make their way down.\r\n\r\nHowever, on their arrival in camp, their report was a shade better than\r\nI had hoped, though none too good. They considered that with a little\r\nwork the first part could be made easily practicable even for men with\r\nheavy loads, and the second part up to the foot of the arch was quite a\r\ngentle slope.\r\n\r\nThe arch itself was more difficult. It rose nearly three hundred feet\r\naccording to Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s estimate, tapering upward and inward in a gentle\r\ncurve, till at the centre it was not more than twelve or fourteen feet\r\nwide. However, with ropes the loads could be got up on to it.\r\n\r\nBut to get up the rock face to the caves was quite a different matter.\r\nIf we could get people from above to let down ropes, it would be all\r\nright, though unpleasant. But Aryenis had said no one ever came there.\r\nSo absolutely our only hope was for one of us to succeed in climbing up\r\nwith the rope, and fix it to something in the cave by which to help\r\nthe rest up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s a sloping seam in the rock stretching up to the cave mouth as\r\nfar as we can see,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, drinking the tea Aryenis had poured\r\nout for him. \xe2\x80\x9cIt doesn\xe2\x80\x99t look to me as if it gave foothold to anything\r\nbigger than a lizard, but Alec, who\xe2\x80\x99s done a lot of rock-climbing,\r\nthinks it might just be possible for a clever climber given a\r\nmiraculous amount of luck. Anyway, it\xe2\x80\x99s our only chance, and we\xe2\x80\x99ve got\r\nto take it or give up and go back; and that, as you know, is at least\r\neven chances of pegging out while trying to get across the desert. The\r\ncamels are pretty done now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe pulled out his pipe and lit it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, what are we going to do, then?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked, looking across to where\r\nForsyth was talking to Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTo-morrow we\xe2\x80\x99ll all go up, leaving Firoz and Sadiq here with the\r\ncamels. We\xe2\x80\x99ll take every bit of rope we can scratch together, as well\r\nas the two one hundred fifty foot lengths of Alpine rope. Alec is going\r\nto make a shot at getting up the seam by himself. He says it\xe2\x80\x99s no good\r\ntwo men going, because the rock is so sheer that if one slipped the\r\nother would be pulled off, too, and it\xe2\x80\x99s no good chucking away two\r\nlives. I wanted to go, but he insisted, and as he\xe2\x80\x99s done more climbing\r\nthan I, although I\xe2\x80\x99ve done a lot of crag-work at home in Durham, I\r\ncaved in.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf he can get up he\xe2\x80\x99ll fix the rope, and you\xe2\x80\x99ll follow, and then we\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\nget Aryenis up. Then I and Payindah will go back to camp. Aryenis\r\nwill have to get you out of the caves and through the cliffs, and\r\nthen--since she says it\xe2\x80\x99s in her country--you ought to find friends and\r\nbe able to come back in the afternoon or else next morning with men and\r\nget the rest of us and the kit up.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe went to bed early that night, and perhaps were not quite so\r\ncheery as we had been the previous evenings. To-morrow\xe2\x80\x99s dawn was\r\ngoing to solve a big question for us--the biggest one in the world\r\nprobably--since my evening\xe2\x80\x99s look at the camels somehow did not seem to\r\nfit with sixteen days\xe2\x80\x99 journey back across the desert.\r\n\r\nWrexham, Forsyth, and Payindah started first, carrying the ropes, a\r\nlantern for use in the caves, two rifles, our _poshtins_, and a bundle\r\nof food. I was deputed to look after Aryenis, and so relieved of a\r\nload. Wrexham might have saved his forethought, for she climbed better\r\nthan I, and I don\xe2\x80\x99t consider myself a bad hand at mountaineering. But\r\nAryenis hung out over bare rock without a tremor, and smiled at me\r\nstruggling behind. She said they had a house in the hills--by which I\r\nsupposed she referred to the high mountain--and that she had climbed\r\never since she was a child.\r\n\r\nAs we reached the foot of the arch, I caught sight of Payindah\r\nsquatting on the rock, just where the slope hid the rest of the arch\r\nfrom us. Looking at it, I wondered how they had got their kit up, for\r\nit was pretty steep.\r\n\r\nBut there were certain projections and jagged bits that gave foot- and\r\nhand-hold, and the slope of the arch made it easier. As a matter of\r\nfact, it was only the first fifty or sixty feet that was so difficult.\r\nAbove that, although it did not show from below, the curve forward\r\nbecame more pronounced, and the rock much rougher and easier to move\r\nover without fear of slipping.\r\n\r\nThe whole arch was not unlike an old flying-buttress, steepish at the\r\nfoot and with a more gradual curve afterwards.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome along,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, all impatience to get in sight of the caves.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWait till they let down the rope,\xe2\x80\x9d I replied. I thought she would want\r\na rope there.\r\n\r\nShe looked at me as if I were daft, and before I could say another word\r\nhad sprung up the rock and stood balancing on nothing ten feet over my\r\nhead.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome,\xe2\x80\x9d she said, and went on.\r\n\r\nI wasn\xe2\x80\x99t going to let a girl beat me if I could help it, so I slipped\r\noff my heavy _chaplis_, fastened them on to my belt, wriggled my toes\r\ninto what foothold I could find, and followed. But she had caught\r\nPayindah\xe2\x80\x99s outstretched hand, and was over the corner while I was still\r\ntwenty feet behind.\r\n\r\nPayindah hauled me up, and then, with \xe2\x80\x9cWah! the miss-sahib must be a\r\ntrue hill-woman,\xe2\x80\x9d he followed her. It was easier going after that, a\r\nlong smooth slope of perhaps two in one, twenty to twenty-five feet\r\nbroad, with a sheer drop on either side. Aryenis went up it without an\r\neffort, Payindah and I panting behind her.\r\n\r\nA hundred feet farther up in front I could now see Wrexham, with\r\nForsyth still farther ahead. Another five minutes, with the arch\r\ngetting narrower and narrower, and we came to the top, whence it\r\nsplayed in a gentle curve over forty feet or so of nothingness to join\r\nthe main wall. Luckily we all had good heads for height, but less\r\nexperienced people would have sat down rather tremblingly, I think.\r\n\r\nPicture to yourself a narrow causeway of rock only a few feet wide,\r\nperhaps twenty feet thick, sprung forty or fifty feet over a drop\r\nof nearly three hundred to the back of the hill we had left, and\r\ngently sloping downward again from the centre into a slight crevice\r\nin the towering wall in front, which rose smooth greenish-grey rock,\r\napparently void of any decent hand- or foot-hold hundreds of feet above\r\nus.\r\n\r\nSome eighty feet above the end of the arch where we stood in the white\r\nsunlight, the wide desert spread out behind and the wind whistling past\r\nus, were the black entrances to the caves, three of them, the centre\r\none--the biggest--perhaps twenty feet across, almost directly above the\r\narch.\r\n\r\nWrexham and Forsyth had been joined by Aryenis, and were talking\r\ntogether on the narrow end of the arch where it joined the cliff.\r\n\r\nI crossed the arch, avoiding looking down at the dizzy drop below, and\r\njoined them. Aryenis turned to me with a little smile of triumph.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, Harilek, you can run over flat stones all right, but you are\r\nslow--slow--on a hill. I must teach you to go quick.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you. You shall,\xe2\x80\x9d I said. Then I turned to Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cHow the\r\ndeuce are we going to get up there?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cUp that crack in the rock,\xe2\x80\x9d said he, pointing to a thin seam I had not\r\nnoticed at first.\r\n\r\nI looked at it. The more I looked, the less I liked it. I looked again\r\nmore than doubtfully.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI shall go up first with the rope, and if I slip you\xe2\x80\x99ll have to try\r\nand hang on to the end and pick up the bits.\xe2\x80\x9d He was taking off his\r\ncoat as he spoke.\r\n\r\nWe tied the rope round him, and the rest of us got hold of the end,\r\nprepared to try and pull him clear of the arch if he slipped, a pretty\r\nhopeless task.\r\n\r\nHe took a last look round, and then he stepped out the couple of feet\r\nover empty space, clinging to a tiny projection in the rock, got his\r\nfeet on the edge of the seam which ran slightly slanting, and started\r\nup.\r\n\r\nI have seen some good cool rock-climbing in my time, but never have I\r\nseen any one go up like that.\r\n\r\nIt took him about twenty--to us--breathless minutes, and for the life\r\nof me I could not see what he held on to. On going up myself later\r\n(with the rope) I found that the seam projected somewhat from the rock\r\nface, and gave a good hand-hold. Luckily, it was not badly weathered,\r\nand so did not break away.\r\n\r\nBut we all expected every minute to see him slip from his footing and\r\nfly downward, and only hoped that he would fall clear of the arch, and\r\nso give the rope a chance of checking him in mid-air below us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe\xe2\x80\x99s there,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, as she clapped her hands softly. \xe2\x80\x9cHe climbs\r\nwonderfully.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI could see he had his hands on the cave floor, and was pulling himself\r\nin. Then he disappeared from sight.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood old Alec,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cWhatever happens now, we shan\xe2\x80\x99t die in\r\nthe desert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nA couple of minutes later he began to tug the rope after him, taking up\r\ntwenty or twenty-five feet.\r\n\r\nAfter that nothing for a space. Then his head emerged. He was\r\npresumably lying on the floor craning out, and he shouted down to us:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe caves lead upward and inward. It\xe2\x80\x99s Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s cave, all right, for\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99s got some stone pillars in it. I\xe2\x80\x99ve tied the rope fast to one, and\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99ll pull in the slack as Harry comes up.\xe2\x80\x9d He disappeared into the cave\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, then, Harry, your turn,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, knotting the rope round me.\r\n\r\nI started up, keeping my eyes resolutely turned from the\r\nthree-hundred-foot drop below me, and not feeling at all pleased with\r\nthe prospect. But, as a matter of fact, with the rope and with the deep\r\ncrevice which I found in the rock, it was easier than I hoped, and I\r\ngot up without any more trouble than a few seconds of intense fright\r\nwhen my foot slipped once.\r\n\r\nAs I stood up and looked round the cavern, I remarked to Forsyth: \xe2\x80\x9cWhat\r\na peculiar place. Are those pillars carved?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThere were pillars of solid rock from floor to ceiling on both sides,\r\nstretching away into the darkness at the back. They were smooth, round\r\npillars, devoid of ornamentation, with a slight splay at top and bottom.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCarved. I looked as I first came up. It\xe2\x80\x99s not unlike a church, as a\r\nmatter of fact. You noticed the ledge as you came in, all along the\r\nedge cut out of the rock as though people once sat here and wanted a\r\nsort of guard like a window-railing at home?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wonder who first used the place. It does not seem to have been used\r\nlately; there are no footmarks in the floor dust.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHowever, we hadn\xe2\x80\x99t much time to wonder about things then. I looked out\r\nand saw Wrexham roping up Aryenis, and a minute or two later her clear\r\ncall came up to ask if we were ready.\r\n\r\nWe shouted back, and then up she came, just like a cat, we pulling the\r\nrope up as she came, so that if she slipped she would only fall the\r\nleast possible distance. But Aryenis never slipped. She seemed to have\r\neyes in her feet when it came to going over bad places. I reached out,\r\nand caught her hands and pulled her into the cave.\r\n\r\nAs I was unknotting the rope she said: \xe2\x80\x9cThis is the place. I remember.\r\nThe way is there,\xe2\x80\x9d and she pointed along the right-hand side of the\r\ncave.\r\n\r\nIt took us a little time longer to haul up our belongings, which\r\nWrexham and Payindah had tied up in three bundles, wrapping the rifles\r\nin the _poshtins_ to prevent damage against the rock. Then we let down\r\nthe rope: the others fastened it below, coiled up the slack, and waving\r\nus good luck started back down the hill.\r\n\r\nWe opened up the bundles, divided the kit, lit the hurricane-lamp,\r\nand told Aryenis to show us the way. From the pillared part, which\r\nstretched about a hundred feet, we passed through thickening grey gloom\r\ninto the darkness and silence--darkness and silence that you could\r\nfeel--of a long, narrow, winding passage with smooth wall and a rounded\r\nroof.\r\n\r\nUnder foot the rock was covered with loose dust, the dust of many,\r\nmany centuries, I think. The wall showed tool marks in the lantern\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndim light, and I remarked to Forsyth that the passage was obviously\r\nartificial.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is here,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, \xe2\x80\x9cbut it may not all be.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nLater on we found rough parts, which showed clearly that the original\r\nfinders of the pillared cave and the smaller ones that led out on\r\neither side of it had discovered a line of natural fault and improved\r\nit, making the passages big enough to walk in.\r\n\r\nOur way wound steadily upward. Luckily there was but the one passage,\r\nor Aryenis might not have remembered her way so easily. We passed\r\nthrough two large open spaces, where the light, instead of being\r\nreflected back from the rock walls, dimmed and died in the circle of\r\ndarkness. In one of them there was what looked like a rough altar cut\r\nin the wall.\r\n\r\nWe had been going for nearly half an hour when we remarked a faint grey\r\nlight ahead. It grew and grew, until rounding a bend we found ourselves\r\nin a little open grotto veiled by trees and thick undergrowth.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XII\r\n\r\nARYENIS\xe2\x80\x99S PEOPLE\r\n\r\n\r\nWe emerged into a thick wood of hill oak and birch, all in russet\r\nglory of autumn foliage. And oh! the joy, after our months of marching\r\nthrough the dead waste places of the earth, to tread once more on a\r\nthick carpet of fallen leaves starred with wild flowers, and to breathe\r\nthe scented air that played on our faces, rough and raw from the hot\r\nglare, driving sand, and ice-cold nights of the desert we had traversed.\r\n\r\nFor twenty minutes we threaded our way through the trees till we came\r\nto the fringe of the wood, and were just going to push through the\r\nundergrowth into the open beyond when Aryenis stopped us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStay,\xe2\x80\x9d she said; \xe2\x80\x9csee if any one is there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe peeped through the screen of leafage, and then pushed her way\r\ncautiously through. Then she turned and beckoned us forward.\r\n\r\nWe found ourselves in an orchard garden with rows of gnarled and\r\ntwisted fruit trees, almond and peach for the most part. In the centre\r\nwas a pergola of old worn stones supporting clusters of vines and a\r\nflagged walk bordered with little shrubs. Beyond again were trees\r\ncutting off further view. But over them, clear in the sunlight, showed\r\nthe wonderful mountain we had seen from afar, its great snow-peaks\r\nvivid against the blue of the northern sky.\r\n\r\nWe went down the straight grey path into the trees beyond, and again\r\nshe checked us while she looked ahead. As she looked, we heard voices,\r\nand suddenly Aryenis darted forward, calling out as she went.\r\n\r\nWe waited a minute or two, and then followed her through the trees, and\r\nthere in front of us was a little open space of sun-dried grass and a\r\nlow stone house in the centre. Beyond, more trees, and then fold after\r\nfold of hills stretching away toward the great mountain, terraced hills\r\ncovered with trees and verdure, and nestled here and there little brown\r\nvillages.\r\n\r\nAnd in the open space ahead Aryenis, in my grey flannel trousers, in\r\nthe arms of a tall, grey-haired man, clothed in short, fawn-coloured\r\nsmock and jerkin of bright steel mail with a blue leather belt, from\r\nwhich hung a short straight sword.\r\n\r\nAround the two were several men similarly clad, most of them with steel\r\ncaps on, and farther back by the house some horses, and other men, more\r\nroughly clad, with slung quivers and great bows across their backs. All\r\nwere talking volubly and excitedly.\r\n\r\nAs we came out they looked toward us, and Aryenis, turning, seized the\r\ntall man by both hands and dragged him up to us. She was laughing and\r\ncrying all at once.\r\n\r\nWe stopped as they came up, and she pointed me out to the older man,\r\ntalking excitedly the while in some strange tongue. He listened gravely\r\nfor a minute, then he stepped forward and laid both hands on my\r\nshoulders, speaking very slowly and distinctly in Greek like Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSir, my daughter and I thank you. You have given her life, and me the\r\nlight of my life. Such debts are beyond repayment, but what we can we\r\nwill do.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he half-drew his sword and thrust the hilt into my hands, a\r\ngesture which I learnt later implied that he placed himself, his sword,\r\nand all his belongings at my disposal for all time.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSir,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, not to be outdone, \xe2\x80\x9cthe fortune is mine that I have been\r\nable to help your daughter. But my companions have as much hand in the\r\nmatter as I,\xe2\x80\x9d and I pressed Forsyth forward.\r\n\r\nThe old man laid his hands on the doctor\xe2\x80\x99s shoulders and greeted him,\r\nthanking him for what he had done.\r\n\r\nIn the meantime Aryenis had pulled up another man, a tall straight\r\nyoung fellow with the most pleasing, open, frank face I have ever\r\nseen. A typical lad of the type that you would mark down for your\r\nregiment if you could get him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis is my brother Stephnos, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d she said.\r\n\r\nHe held out his sword to me as the elder man had done, and I placed my\r\nhand upon the hilt. Then he thrust it back into its sheath and took\r\nboth my hands.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek, as my sister calls you, we owe you my sister\xe2\x80\x99s life. All we\r\nhave is yours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen the other men with them came up and shook our hands. One and all\r\nwere fair-skinned men of European type, straight features, grey, blue,\r\nand hazel eyes, with hair varying from yellow to dark brown. They were\r\nfor the most part sun-tanned, but with the unmistakably transparent\r\nskin that marks the true white races.\r\n\r\nAryenis was holding her father\xe2\x80\x99s arm, her face radiant with joy at the\r\nreunion, and talking fast while he stroked her red-gold hair.\r\n\r\nThen at last she ceased and turned to us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy father came here yesterday to see the forts. There is real war\r\nnow, which he will tell you about. After we have eaten, we will\r\ntake men with ropes and bring the others up the cliff. Now I go to\r\nfind--skirts!\xe2\x80\x9d she said, laughing.\r\n\r\nShe led the way, still holding her father tightly by the hand, and the\r\nrest of us followed.\r\n\r\nAs we reached the house, the men standing by the horses rushed over to\r\nus, all trying to grasp Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s hands. She spoke to them by name, so\r\nI gathered that they were men of her own house. There was no mistaking\r\ntheir delight at seeing her, nor her unfeigned joy at being among them\r\nagain. Kyrlos, as her father was called, spoke to them for a minute or\r\ntwo in their own language, and, though I could not understand what was\r\nbeing said, I guessed that he was talking about Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s escape. I\r\ncould see them looking at us with interest.\r\n\r\nWe entered the house, where news of our coming had evidently preceded\r\nus, for there were more servants waiting, and among them some women.\r\n\r\nThen, after more greetings, Aryenis disappeared with the women. Kyrlos\r\nturned to us and said:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou must be weary after your climb. If you will follow me, I will show\r\nyou to the guest-room, where you may wash off the dust of the caves\r\nbefore the midday meal. There are but rough quarters here now since, as\r\nperhaps you have heard, there is war in the land. Later on, we shall be\r\nable to entertain you better.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe led us into a side room giving off the main hall, and a minute later\r\ntwo men entered carrying bowls of water and towels.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf you will put off your heavy clothes here, and leave your gear,\r\npresently Stephnos will fetch you to the dining-chamber.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked at our rifles, and then said, pointing:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThese are your weapons, I suppose, though unfamiliar to me. If you\r\nwish to leave them here, they will be safe. No man will touch anything.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI took the opportunity of asking him to have grain and forage brought\r\nwith us when we went to the caves in the afternoon, and also to let us\r\nhave a guard of men to stay with the camels. They were rather to help\r\nSadiq and keep him company than for protection, for it was clear now\r\nthat the Shamans would not follow us.\r\n\r\nHe said he would gladly arrange everything.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, if you will excuse my leaving you, I will go and see my daughter,\r\nwhom we all thought dead if, indeed, some worse fate had not befallen\r\nher.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he went out.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, as he went out, \xe2\x80\x9cGobi Greeks are actualities, all\r\nright, and here we are. Perfectly good houses, mail shirts, _and_ a\r\nwar. What are we going to do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe took off our bandoliers and unslung our rifles. The kit we had\r\ncarried up had been taken off us outside, and the men piled it by the\r\nbeds. Forsyth buried his face and hands in the water, and got off some\r\nof the dust we had picked up in the caves.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cChip in, I think,\xe2\x80\x9d said he. \xe2\x80\x9cI like the look of these people, and,\r\nunless I\xe2\x80\x99m mistaken, they\xe2\x80\x99re a different crowd from your unpleasant\r\nfriends down by the gate. I only saw one of those by faint moonlight,\r\nand he was somewhat the worse for wear, but he didn\xe2\x80\x99t look at all the\r\nsame as this lot.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe finished his toilet and smoothed his hair. \xe2\x80\x9cGlad I shaved this\r\nmorning. I notice that most of the younger-looking men here shave.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked at his rifle.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre we going to leave them here?\xe2\x80\x9d he asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, we may as well. It would look very distrustful if we didn\xe2\x80\x99t, and\r\nwhoever is unpleasant in this country, these people will see us through\r\nfor a cert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThanks to your finding Aryenis. That was the best bit of luck we\xe2\x80\x99ve\r\nhad.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe\xe2\x80\x99s much too nice a girl to have left out in that filthy place,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nsaid I, meaning it very much.\r\n\r\nI made myself as presentable as my travel-stained garments would allow,\r\nand Forsyth retied the bandage round my face. Then Stephnos came in\r\nand talked to us. He said Aryenis was changing into somewhat more\r\nfeminine garments, so we should have to wait a little. He was brimful\r\nof excitement, and evidently itching to hear all that had happened. So,\r\nsitting on the low beds, we gave him an account of our adventures since\r\nwe found his sister in the gate. He listened breathlessly to it all,\r\nputting in shrewd questions at intervals. His Greek was just like that\r\nof Aryenis, and we had no trouble in talking to him or understanding\r\nwhat he said.\r\n\r\nWhen we had finished, he led us through the hall into a room at the far\r\nend where a fire was burning, for the air was very chilly except in the\r\nsun. There were two of the men we had met outside standing there, who\r\ngreeted us as we came in. They were some of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s officers. At the\r\nfar end servants were arranging a meal on tables ranged round three\r\nsides of the room.\r\n\r\nA little later Aryenis and her father came in. But quite a different\r\nAryenis.\r\n\r\nHer red-gold hair was dressed in a big knot at the back of her head\r\nwith a clasp at each side. Her dress was of plain white, save for the\r\nblue embroidery which ran round the hem of the short skirt and the ends\r\nof the short sleeves. Over her shoulder she wore a shawl, doubtless\r\nto conceal her bandage, for the dress had a low-cut square neck. It\r\nwas gathered in at her hips by a belt of fine worked leather, fastened\r\nloosely with the ends hanging down in front, and my old tennis-shoes\r\nhad been replaced by twisted leather sandals of some white hide.\r\n\r\nKrylos motioned us to table, and I found myself placed between him and\r\nAryenis. Forsyth was on his other hand, with Stephnos next to him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou see, I do _not_ wear trousers in my own country,\xe2\x80\x9d confided\r\nAryenis. \xe2\x80\x9cSkirts!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNice short ones,\xe2\x80\x9d I reminded her. \xe2\x80\x9cThey are indeed nice, as you said.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCompliments again, Harilek! But I won\xe2\x80\x99t quarrel with them this time.\r\nThey might be sincere now, whereas last time--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhereas last time they were of even greater value really since your\r\nclothes were against you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c_Your_ clothes,\xe2\x80\x9d she reminded me.\r\n\r\nThen food was brought in, a stew of mutton, fat-tailed sheep, I think;\r\nsome hill partridges, and afterwards sweet cakes with an amber-coloured\r\nwine. Forsyth and I missed our forks badly, but we managed to get\r\nthrough the meal without disgracing ourselves.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re not coming with us this afternoon through the caves in those\r\nclothes, I imagine, Aryenis?\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIndeed, I am not, Harilek. I\xe2\x80\x99m going to stop in and rejoice my\r\nfeminine soul in contemplating pleasing garments and getting the desert\r\nout of my hair. I very nearly had food brought in to me, but I thought,\r\nas it was your first meal in our country, I would come and watch you\r\nafter seeing you live on Firoz\xe2\x80\x99s food in the desert. What did you call\r\nthat stuff that pretended to be bread? \xe2\x80\x98_Cheptis_,\xe2\x80\x99 or something like\r\nthat? That\xe2\x80\x99s ungrateful of me, though, considering the trouble Firoz\r\ntook over me always. But he was not meant to be a cook.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI said he was a soldier.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; I can imagine him as that. He makes me think of some of my\r\nfather\xe2\x80\x99s older soldiers. Very gruff and very solid, but very kind\r\nwithal. But not skilled overmuch in the pleasant things of life.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSuch as cakes and sweets made with milk out of cans.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs you say, Harilek. All the same, you liked the things I made with\r\nstuff out of metal boxes, even though the milk tasted funny, not really\r\nlike milk that grows in proper cows. Well, I\xe2\x80\x99m going to vanish for the\r\nafternoon now and get rid of the desert, which seems to have blown\r\nright through my skin.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen we went out and found a score of men awaiting us outside. Some\r\ncarried ropes, others sacks of grain and bundles of forage. Four of\r\nthem were armed: evidently the guard Kyrlos had promised us.\r\n\r\nAs we walked up toward the cave in the woods, I remarked how tall\r\nthey were--the average height must have been well over five feet,\r\nnine inches--and I asked Kyrlos if all his people were as tall, or if\r\nthese were a picked lot. He looked round at them, and said that they\r\nwere quite ordinary men. Then he asked me if they were taller than our\r\npeople, and I had to admit that, if they were average samples, then\r\nthey were distinctly so.\r\n\r\nAgain we noted the remarkable fairness of their skins and hair, and\r\ntheir blue and grey eyes. Yet these were clearly ordinary serving-men\r\nor soldiers, not like the men who had breakfasted with us, who were\r\nobviously persons of quality.\r\n\r\nWe followed them down the long dark passage, Stephnos and Forsyth\r\nleading, and finally came out in the pillared cave. I could hear the\r\nmen behind us talking in low tones, and looking from side to side with\r\ncurious and rather awed glances.\r\n\r\nOn looking out, we saw Payindah and Wrexham sitting on the far side of\r\nthe arch. Kyrlos looked over and remarked that we must be like birds to\r\nclimb that without the rope, and asked who was the first to come up.\r\n\r\nSeeing us in the cave mouth, they crossed the arch. We dropped another\r\nrope, and Wrexham, tying it round him, came clambering up the thin\r\nprojecting seam amid exclamations from the watching men. We introduced\r\nhim to Kyrlos and Stephnos, and he said a few words in reply to their\r\nthanks for helping Aryenis. Then he turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey _are_ white folk, all right, then.\xe2\x80\x9d He was looking round at the\r\nmen in the cave. \xe2\x80\x9cUpstanding-looking fellows, too. Wonder who they are?\r\nNot much like what I\xe2\x80\x99ve seen of the modern Greek, by long chalks.\xe2\x80\x9d He\r\ncame back to the point. \xe2\x80\x9cWhat have you arranged?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy proposal is that we get up all the kit and just leave Sadiq down\r\nwith the camels. Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s father is giving us a guard to look after\r\nthem, and also to see that Sadiq doesn\xe2\x80\x99t try to do a bolt into the\r\nblue--not that he\xe2\x80\x99s likely to.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI had asked Kyrlos if there was any likelihood of the Shamans coming\r\nround from the gate, and he said he was sure that no one would venture\r\nout even so far as the stream outside the _tangi_, let alone following\r\nforty waterless miles round the base of the cliffs. No one had ever\r\nventured into the desert, which the people feared very much; in fact,\r\nmany of the more ignorant folk believed that there were no other living\r\nmen beyond it, only strange beasts and fearsome spectres.\r\n\r\nThe camels would be quite safe there, but he was sending down four men\r\nto stay with them so as to keep our man company, since they could not\r\nbe brought up. He said that since his men had seen us and knew that\r\nAryenis had been some days in the desert, they would not now be afraid\r\nto stop down below.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s all right, then,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99d better get down and get\r\nthe things up as quickly as possible before it gets dark.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nKyrlos insisted on going down, too, to see the camels, for he was\r\nalways keen on new things. So in the end we all went down, taking men\r\nwith us to carry the grain and forage for the camels, and to help the\r\nguard with their kit. It was quicker now since we were lowered down\r\ninstead of having to climb, and in next to no time we were across the\r\narch and well on our way down the slope.\r\n\r\nI introduced Payindah to Kyrlos, and explained that he had been the\r\nother actor in getting Aryenis out of the Gates of Death, whereupon\r\nPayindah got thanked just as I had been.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWho is the sahib and what is his talk?\xe2\x80\x9d asked Payindah.\r\n\r\nI explained that he was Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s father and a great noble in the land,\r\nand then, for lack of better explanation, went on that he was of the\r\npeople of Sikandar Balkarnayn (Alexander the Great), and that was the\r\nspeech he used.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWah,\xe2\x80\x9d said Payindah. \xe2\x80\x9cThen we be in some sort of the same blood, since\r\nwe also are of Sikandar\xe2\x80\x99s stock.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs a matter of fact there was little difference, save for his darker\r\nwheat colour and his black bobbed locks, between Payindah, with his\r\nGreek features and his Greek form (we used to remark when he was\r\nwrestling in the regiment that he might have stood for a Greek statue),\r\nhis green-grey eyes, and his red low-cut skull-cap, similar in shape to\r\nthe steel caps worn by Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s following, and the white-skinned men\r\ncollected on the arch.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWas this man also in the wars Aryenis says you come from?\xe2\x80\x9d asked\r\nKyrlos. \xe2\x80\x9cHe looks like a fighter, and I see that he carries the noise\r\nweapon even as you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn that and other wars. A brave man even among brave men. He asked who\r\nyou were and what was your speech, and when I told him that it was the\r\nspeech of Alexander, he claimed kinship with your people.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs he also of Greece? His colour is somewhat dark. Are there men of\r\ndifferent colours in your land?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. He is from a country far from mine, but one which is ruled by my\r\nfolk, wherein I served as a soldier. Alexander of Macedon held his\r\ncountry two thousand years and more ago, and the folk still talk of\r\nit.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI have read of him in the old books. A valiant man.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThere was much astonishment when we got to the camp and they saw the\r\ncamels, while Sadiq and Firoz were equally astonished to see them.\r\n\r\nKyrlos in particular spent a long time studying the camels, much as you\r\nor I might hang around a live mastodon if one chanced to be discovered.\r\nThe men, who had probably never even heard of such beasts, were full of\r\namazement, and kept on going round and round them chattering, pointing\r\nout what struck them as peculiar features of the weird creatures, I\r\nsuppose.\r\n\r\nWe explained to Sadiq what he was to do, and introduced him to the men\r\nwho were to stop with him. He was rather alarmed at first, but, on\r\nhearing that none of the local people ever went out into the desert,\r\nand that he was as safe there as in his own country, he cheered up,\r\nthough he said it would be dull with no one to talk to. Considering the\r\nvery little speech he was able to exchange with Firoz and Payindah, and\r\nthe fact that he was at best a very taciturn individual, this did not\r\nweigh much with us.\r\n\r\nWe left the tent and the water-tanks down below, but brought up\r\neverything else, taking the bundles on camels as far as the cliff foot.\r\nKyrlos and Stephnos rode back on the spare camel, a great experience\r\nfor them.\r\n\r\nWe had a little difficulty in getting our things up over the arch, but\r\nwe managed it all right with the ropes and the extra hands, and the\r\ncave party hauled us up without much trouble. But the setting sun made\r\nus hurry somewhat, for the arch was no place on which to be overtaken\r\nby darkness.\r\n\r\nKyrlos detailed an old and trusted servant to look after the carrying\r\nparty, and next day ordered a rope-ladder to be securely fixed, so that\r\nthe guard could get up without assistance if need arose. This servant,\r\nwho lived on the estate, would visit the cave every day to receive the\r\nguard\xe2\x80\x99s report, and would arrange for sending down food, forage, and\r\nfuel from time to time.\r\n\r\nThen, leaving Payindah and Firoz to follow us, with the others carrying\r\nour kit, we returned to the house.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\nWE JOIN WITH KYRLOS\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen we reached the house again, we found Aryenis by the fire in the\r\nhall, having clearly removed the desert from her skin and hair, for\r\nshe was looking even prettier than before. She and Kyrlos went off\r\ntogether, doubtless to talk over her adventures.\r\n\r\nWhen our kit arrived, we followed her example, steaming ourselves in\r\nboiling water in the bathroom attached to the guest-chamber, a little\r\nroom floored with red tiles around a sunken stone bath. The Blue\r\nSakae are great believers in cleanliness of person and clothes, and\r\nthis taste was by no means confined to the upper classes, despite the\r\ncoldness of their winter climate.\r\n\r\nIt was good to soak the desert sand out of our systems, and feel our\r\nsun-dried, wind-hardened skins expanding once more under the soothing\r\ninfluence of clean hot water.\r\n\r\nThe evening meal was a rather more ornate edition of the midday one;\r\nbut we did not sit long over it, for Aryenis pronounced for an early\r\nbed, and the other men drifted away quickly, so that Kyrlos and\r\nStephnos alone were left. We sat over the fire drinking our wine for\r\na space, and it was clear that Kyrlos had matters he was more anxious\r\nto talk of than mere commonplaces about our adventures and the customs\r\nof the Sakae, concerning which Forsyth had been asking him numerous\r\nquestions.\r\n\r\nSix days with Aryenis had accustomed us to the strange accent and\r\nunfamiliar idioms of their Greek, and we never had any more difficulty\r\nin talking with the educated people.\r\n\r\nFinally Kyrlos plunged into the matter which was evidently nearest his\r\nheart.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd now, my guests,\xe2\x80\x9d he began, \xe2\x80\x9cif it be not venturing discourtesy, I\r\nwould know somewhat of the reasons which brought you into this land\r\nof ours where no stranger has come for centuries. Aryenis has told me\r\nsomething, but I would hear more from your own lips, more particularly\r\nsince she spoke of wars in your land, and there will shortly be such\r\nwar in this country as has never been. Wherefore came you hither?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe are three travellers, Kyrlos, who came seeking new scenes, for--as\r\nyour daughter has, perhaps, told you--some hundred years ago a relative\r\nof Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s came to the gate of this land of which our people have no\r\nknowledge.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Aryenis told me of that, and of the finding of Carius--a most\r\nstrange event, and one with a hidden meaning, I feel sure. But what of\r\nthese wars you speak of? Aryenis says that you, Harilek, are a soldier\r\nby trade--one holding high command. But your friends also have been\r\nfighting, though it seems they are not soldiers at all times.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFor six years our people have been at war, the greatest war of all\r\nhistory--so great that men speak of it as \xe2\x80\x98the world war,\xe2\x80\x99 since, save\r\none or two of the smaller nations, not one people in the world but\r\nwas engaged fighting upon one side or the other. And being so great,\r\nall men, whether soldiers or not, took part in it. At the end, when\r\nour people were victorious, we three, having no wives or children to\r\ncall us home, set out on this journey, seeking change of scene and\r\nadventure.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you of those who fight for love of fighting, then? Would you stay\r\nhere and fight for us with your wondrous weapons, which Aryenis tells\r\nme slay at arrow-shot distance with naught but a little noise, killing\r\nmailed men as though they were clothed but in silk?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat about it, Harry? Are you going to chip in with this bally war? I\r\nlike these people, but I thought we\xe2\x80\x99d come out on a rest cure, as it\r\nwere.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDepends very much on what it\xe2\x80\x99s all about,\xe2\x80\x9d put in Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cIf it\xe2\x80\x99s\r\na tribal blood feud, I\xe2\x80\x99m not joining. But if it means a smack at the\r\nbeasts in the gate for their mishandling of Aryenis, and of other\r\npeople, too, by the look of the place, then I\xe2\x80\x99m for it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, every time,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, thinking of the first time I saw Aryenis,\r\nand of the long hair that Wrexham had tangled his hand in the first\r\nnight.\r\n\r\nKyrlos was watching us reflectively, the firelight playing on his grave\r\nfeatures. He is a handsome man in a way, with rather a high-coloured\r\ncountenance, pronounced eyebrows over dark blue eyes, and a somewhat\r\naquiline nose. Not over-given to speech, but we found him well worth\r\nlistening to when he opened his mouth. I turned to him again:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe are not of those who fight for fighting\xe2\x80\x99s sake, nor for profit\r\nafter the manner of the mercenaries of old times. We have seen years\r\nof war wherein thousands of men died every day.\xe2\x80\x9d (Kyrlos opened his\r\neyes at this.) \xe2\x80\x9cBut under certain conditions we might join with you.\r\nWill you first tell us somewhat concerning this coming war of which you\r\nspeak? Is it against the Shamans who took Aryenis captive? We gathered\r\nfrom her that they are an evil people and stirrers-up of strife.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, it is against these same Shamans. But, as you know but little of\r\nthis land, perhaps I had better first tell you somewhat of our people,\r\nso that you may the better understand the reasons for the war. Save\r\nthe Shamans, who came here whence we know not, all the Sakae are of\r\nthe same race, and entered this country many, many hundreds of years\r\nago. We believe that then they were one people under one ruler. But\r\nfor centuries now we have been--according to our books--divided into\r\nfour clans known by colours. Of the origins of these names I cannot\r\nspeak. Some hold that it is from the colour of the ornaments which are\r\nfavoured by the different clans, others say it is some relic of old\r\npagan worship which has lost its meaning, and now remains but a name.\r\nBut these be matters of conjecture--of no great import. My clan--the\r\nBlue Sakae--is the biggest of all, though the Green Sakae, who live\r\nnext to us, are not greatly fewer in numbers. Then there are the Red\r\nSakae, who live beyond them. These three are much alike in manners\r\nand customs. The fourth clan, which is smaller than the other three,\r\nis known as the Brown Sakae, and differs greatly. These have retained\r\nall the old savagery of our people, are entirely pagan, and unaffected\r\nby the civilization which--together with Christianity--was brought by\r\nGreeks who came to this land in the beginning of the ages.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn the centre of the Brown Sakae country, and above the gate which you\r\nfound, dwell a small people, few in numbers, but exceedingly cunning,\r\ncalled the Black Shamans, keepers of the gate from the old days, great\r\nmagicians, skilled in the working of metals from the mines which abound\r\nin the Brown Sakae country. Doctors also as you, Forsyth, but I think\r\nof evil kind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFrom time to time there have been wars between the clans--in the main,\r\nwars of rulers only; but never have any of the clans fought with the\r\nShamans nor they with us, and their country has been held sacred, so\r\nthat none of the Sakae enter it save for the yearly council of the\r\nchiefs of all the clans, which was held there in the spring. The chief\r\nShaman himself attended the council meetings.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut now for ten or twelve years a change has come over the land. The\r\nchief Shaman has waxed greatly powerful, and exercises influence among\r\nthe other clans such as he has no right to do, save in giving advice at\r\nthe general council of the chiefs.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut by degrees he contrived to turn the people against all the chiefs\r\nwho would not fall in with his wishes, uniting the less powerful\r\nleaders against the greater. When these were overthrown, he turned the\r\ncommon people against the lesser chiefs who had cast down those above\r\nthem, until in the end there were no rulers save those who did his will\r\nin all matters.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe began slowly with the sections nearest to his country, so that\r\nhis influence spread as a spider\xe2\x80\x99s web, ever growing and growing. And\r\nin the end, save for one or two sections of the Green Sakae who still\r\nheld out, such as that of Carius whom you found in the desert, or\r\nthe people of the old chief who was slain with Aryenis in the gate,\r\nall the Red, Green, and Brown Sakae were under his hand. And then, of\r\ncourse, we of the Blue Sakae no longer went to the councils, which had\r\nbecome only a play, there being but one voice at all times--that of the\r\nchief Shaman: those others spoke in seemingly independent guise, but\r\nin reality as they had been privily bidden. For though talking always\r\nof the freedom of men, the chief Shaman rules entirely by fear, and\r\nhe that thwarts him dies, sometimes speedily by an arrow in the gate,\r\nmore often slowly as he would have had Carius die, often still more\r\nlingeringly in their citadel, so that for many days such prisoners pray\r\nfor the gate and the arrows as you and I might pray for heaven.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSeeing the danger, my brother and I--he rules over the northern part\r\nof our clan as my representative--sought to combine the other clans ere\r\nthey were overcome, while yet our own people still held stanch. But our\r\nefforts had no result, save that we incurred the greater hatred of the\r\nchief Shaman--if, indeed, his hatred could increase.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut since we are a strong and warlike people, and since our folk,\r\nalthough in many ways independent and loving not at all any control,\r\nstill hold to us, and are gifted with much sound sense in that they\r\nbelieve little of the talk of the Shaman spies, the Shamans have not so\r\nfar dared to make open war upon us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut they only wait their time, which, I think, draws near, now that\r\nthe last of the Green Sakae chiefs has gone down.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAryenis has told you somewhat of how she came to be taken prisoner,\r\nwhen she was staying with the old chief, and I had been called away.\r\nThe party who sacked the palace were partly Brown Sakae raiders, partly\r\nShamans, and these latter took her and the old man to their master.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLooking upon Aryenis with lustful eyes he desired her, but, further,\r\nhe wished to use her for other ends by marrying her as a political\r\nmove. He has already a wife and other women, but among the Shamans\r\nthis would be no obstacle, and doubtless to placate the feelings of the\r\npagan Sakae, who hold, like us, that a man should have but one wife, he\r\nwould have divorced his other one.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut Aryenis, as you may have noticed, has a swift tongue and a swift\r\nbrain, and she spoke to him as he deserved. He is deformed and hideous\r\nof person, and, among other things, she told him she would rather wed\r\nwith a real vulture than with a misshapen one that called itself a man.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFor all his cunning he has an ungovernable temper with regard to his\r\npersonal appearance. Being more cruel than lustful when beside himself\r\nwith rage, he sent her down to the gate then and there chained to the\r\nold chief, who was to be slain at once. He told Aryenis that when she\r\nhad lived with vultures awhile she could tell him how she liked it, and\r\nthen perhaps he would be pitiful and give what the vultures left of her\r\nto his archers to play with.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI could hear Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s teeth grit as he fingered his dagger-hilt. I\r\nhoped keenly to be there when he met the chief Shaman. At least, I did\r\nand I didn\xe2\x80\x99t. I was somehow beginning to feel that no one should meet\r\nthat beauty until I had interviewed him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then you came and saved her. It was two days before I got the\r\nnews, and, hastily gathering such men as I had ready, I rode straight\r\ninto the Brown Sakae country where the hills begin--a maze of mountains\r\nere you reach the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 hold. Being but few in number, we were\r\ndriven back with loss, so that I had to return. My brother was raising\r\nhis folk and the balance of mine to come and aid me when you appeared.\r\nWe had intended to try and reach the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 fortress, and, if we\r\ncould not save my daughter, at least avenge her or die in the effort.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, however, there is no such need for haste since she is safe. But\r\ninstead I feel, and my brother writes to me the same, that we must\r\nstrike the enemy soon, or else allow them to destroy the whole country.\r\nTherefore, have I sent out to all my headmen to meet me at our chief\r\ntown to discuss the question of making immediate war upon the Shamans\r\nonce for all.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe carrying-off of Aryenis has stirred the countryside, and the folk\r\nrealize that the danger threatens all, and I have great hope that they\r\nwill agree. If so we will raise our whole armed strength. War will come\r\nwhether we make it or whether we wait for attack, and it is better\r\nthat we should make it now rather than wait till our enemies are still\r\nstronger.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut in this strife the foe will be two to one, maybe three to one,\r\nagainst us. And it will be such war as we have never had, for once the\r\nShamans cease their pretence of peace, they will give us war such as\r\nthe fiend conceives it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, say, knowing all, will you stay and fight with us, or will you\r\ntake such things as you require for your journey, together with tokens\r\nof our gratitude, and return to your own land? I hide not from you that\r\nwe shall be in a hard case, and that in the end we may be overrun,\r\nwhen such of us as are left alive will go through the gate, after the\r\nShamans have played with us awhile in their fashion, which is not\r\npleasant.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you go or stay?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked at us, his chin on his hand. I could see the boy nursing\r\nhis dagger-hilt, his eyes on my face. My mind required no making up.\r\nThe idea of Aryenis once more in the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 hands admitted of no\r\ncompromise. I turned to the old man and said, and in saying it altered\r\nthe whole course of my life:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSir, since the matter touches the Lady Aryenis, who has honoured us\r\nby being our guest for some days, and since I like not the manners of\r\nthose who dwell in the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 gates, I shall remain with you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen, pulling out my pistol, I held out the butt to him, as he had done\r\nwith his sword.\r\n\r\nHe touched the grip, and I could see a look of pleasure in his face.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOne is doubly strong when a brave man joins one. Sir Harilek, I thank\r\nyou again.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked at Wrexham and Forsyth, who said nothing, but held out their\r\npistols.\r\n\r\nAs Kyrlos touched them, he rose to his feet.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt draws late now, my guests. I will tell my daughter that she was\r\nright. She said of a surety you would join us, for you were clearly\r\nall clean brave men. _That_ she knew, since you showed her greater\r\nconsideration even than if she had been your own sister, and your\r\nmen treated her as if she were a princess, whereas she came to you a\r\nhelpless captive. It seems that in your country you bring up men to\r\ntreat women as they should do, which is sometimes rare.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt had somewhat to do with our late war, this matter of how women\r\nshould be treated,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth. \xe2\x80\x9cMany folk came to the war who might\r\nhave stayed away because of the indignities which the enemy put upon\r\nthe women of the countries he invaded.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nKyrlos and his son led us to our room, and saw that we had all we\r\nwanted before they left us.\r\n\r\nAs I pulled off my boots I said to Wrexham: \xe2\x80\x9cWell, we seem to have\r\nstepped into a pretty little kind of war all ready-made. I wonder if a\r\nShaman is anything like a Hun. Their ways are not very dissimilar.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs you say. It would take a particularly unpleasant type to think\r\nof chaining a live girl to a dead man for the vultures to play with\r\nwhile he sat and looked on from the upper storey.\xe2\x80\x9d He spat into the\r\nfireplace. \xe2\x80\x9cGives one a bad taste in one\xe2\x80\x99s mouth, doesn\xe2\x80\x99t it? I shall\r\nlook forward to meeting the chief Shaman.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth was silent, and I could see that he was pondering over\r\nsomething. At last he spoke.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhatever these people are, they aren\xe2\x80\x99t Greeks for all that Aryenis\r\nand her father and some of their friends speak Greek. But the other\r\nmen\xe2\x80\x99s speech is a totally different language, although there were some\r\nGreek words in it, or what sounded like them. They look more like\r\nScandinavians, somewhat sunburnt.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, that\xe2\x80\x99s the way they struck me,\xe2\x80\x9d I replied, \xe2\x80\x9cYou remember Kyrlos\r\ntalked of Greeks coming into the country as though they were quite a\r\ndifferent race.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, we shall have every opportunity of studying them now. I must get\r\nhold of their real speech and see if I can place it.\xe2\x80\x9d Forsyth turned\r\ninto his blankets. \xe2\x80\x9cI wonder what kind of a show the war will be.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMiddle Ages for a cert,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI wonder if the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 front\r\ndoor is anything like their back one? If so, I wish I had a few bags\r\nof blasting-powder or a box or two of guncotton or ammonal. Otherwise,\r\nI rather visualize Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s troops sitting down in front of it with\r\nwooden towers, and wet hides, and all the usual accessories one reads\r\nof in Virgil, and not getting very much farther.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat means to say that it\xe2\x80\x99s merely a question of starving them out,\r\nthen.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, or else some kind of treachery, or a Trojan wooden horse stunt.\r\nI wonder if there\xe2\x80\x99s any nitre in the country?\xe2\x80\x9d He was turning over\r\nthe pages of a sort of compendium book he had made up while we were\r\nfitting out in Calcutta, and which never left his valise. It contained,\r\nI think, every known recipe for the manufacture of what Wrexham\r\ncomprehensively but vaguely referred to as \xe2\x80\x9cengineer stores.\xe2\x80\x9d \xe2\x80\x9cAlso\r\nphosphorus?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s the phosphorus wanted for?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMatches, dear man, matches. We\xe2\x80\x99ve not many left, and the Sakae flint\r\nand steel doesn\xe2\x80\x99t attract my cultured taste.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you propose to start a match-factory for the benefit of the\r\ninhabitants?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps. That and other things even more useful. I don\xe2\x80\x99t think I shall\r\nwant to hurry home. This is going to be an amusing experience, I fancy.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. I can\xe2\x80\x99t say I want to hurry home either. The war will probably\r\ntake two or three months, and after that I should like to explore the\r\ncountry and study the people and the language. Also, I want to see if\r\nthe beautiful Euphrosine is anything like her picture. Did Aryenis tell\r\nyou where she was?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nForsyth was rather keen on what I annoyed him by referring to as the\r\nEuphrosine myth. Since my conversation with Aryenis below the cliffs,\r\nhowever, and Euphrosine\xe2\x80\x99s materialization into a real living person and\r\na friend of Aryenis, I had had to admit that my classing her as a myth\r\nwas unjustifiable.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. But I expect we\xe2\x80\x99ll meet her in a day or two.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, we shall be here most of the winter, and it\xe2\x80\x99s not much good\r\ngoing back till well on next year, so there\xe2\x80\x99s lots of time to look\r\nround,\xe2\x80\x9d said the doctor as he turned in. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m for sleep now, however.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf the place is what it seems to be, a year is mighty little to\r\nexplore it,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m inclined to think that several years\r\nwould not be too much. It\xe2\x80\x99s a sort of Middle Ages Europe tucked away\r\ninto the heart of Asia, by the little we\xe2\x80\x99ve seen.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs he put out the light and we settled down to sleep, I also felt\r\nthat it would want more than a year or so to explore. Indeed, I was\r\nbeginning to think that even the matter of Aryenis would require a\r\nlifetime. She is so intensely vivid, and has a knack of hanging about\r\nyour mind and popping up at odd moments just when you\xe2\x80\x99re trying to go\r\nto sleep, or lazily contemplating the smoke of your pipe. And once\r\nAryenis did slide into your mental vision--well, everything else seemed\r\nto slide out. The desert and the camels and the long road back through\r\nKashgaria, the hills and the high passes, got dimmer and dimmer in\r\nperspective, and the Bombay or Karachi docks refused to be visualized\r\nat all when Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s eyes and her mouth and her red-gold hair\r\nentered--as of right--into what up till then I had always considered as\r\n_my_ mind.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\nWE VISIT THE BORDER\r\n\r\n\r\nWe slept late next morning, and I was awakened by the men moving in our\r\nroom. Dressing hurriedly, we went into the dining-hall to find Kyrlos\r\nand Stephnos. Aryenis was evidently enjoying to the full the delights\r\nof a real bed in a real house once more.\r\n\r\nWe made a short meal, for the Sakae live much as do the Southern\r\nEuropeans--a light meal of bread and wine, with perhaps eggs the first\r\nthing in the morning, and a large breakfast at noon. I must say I\r\nlonged for tea or some other suitable morning drink. Alcohol at that\r\nhour savoured too much of the rum with which we used to lace our cocoa\r\nfor dawn battle stunts in the bad frozen frontier days to have any\r\npleasant memories.\r\n\r\nKyrlos asked us how we had slept, and if we had all we wanted. We\r\nsaid we were more than comfortable in a good bed--their beds were\r\ngood--after many weeks of hard marching. Firoz and Payindah were\r\nfeeding with the soldiers, so we told Kyrlos of their prejudices in the\r\nmatter of pork, and he said he would give orders on the point.\r\n\r\nThe Punjabis hit it off very well with the Sakae, whose mode of life\r\nwas not unlike their own in many respects. In time they picked up some\r\nof the language with that facility which characterizes the people of\r\nIndia, accustomed all their lives to meeting men of different races.\r\nSome folk are of the idea that the inhabitants of India are one people,\r\nwhich may account for a lot of the idealistic rubbish we hear about the\r\nIndian nation. One might as well talk of the European nation. There\r\nis far more difference between the Punjabi and the Tamil than there\r\nis between the Russian and the Englishman, while the French are more\r\nakin to the Scotch than are the Mahrattas to the Sikhs. One meets more\r\nvariety of languages, customs, religions, and, most of all, races, in\r\nIndia than in traversing Europe from Moscow to Dublin.\r\n\r\nI asked where all the others had gone, and Kyrlos told me that they had\r\nridden out to the villages to see the levies, and would be back with\r\nreports in the evening.\r\n\r\nHe said that he would be riding out himself directly to one of the\r\nborder forts that covered an entry into his country, and asked if we\r\nwould care to come. Wrexham and I said we should like very much to have\r\na look at the country, but Forsyth announced that he intended to stop\r\nbehind and learn something of the local language from Aryenis. He spent\r\na very useful day, and when we came back he had long lists of words of\r\nsome unknown language written out in Greek characters with the Greek\r\nequivalents.\r\n\r\nAryenis was evidently a good scholar, and Forsyth is a born linguist.\r\nHe picked up their language amazingly quickly. As he had thought, it\r\nwas not Greek at base, though there were many Greek words interlarded,\r\nespecially as spoken by the more educated.\r\n\r\nMuch of the official written language was Greek, somewhat debased but\r\ncomprehensible, and we discovered that a knowledge of the old tongue\r\nwas a common possession of the upper classes, much as was Latin in\r\nmedi\xc3\xa6val Europe. He said the original language was quite unfamiliar to\r\nhim, but had many and unmistakable traits pointing to its being some\r\nold Aryan dialect.\r\n\r\nAfter we had finished the morning meal, horses were brought round for\r\nus, little stocky animals of the class of a small heavy-weight polo\r\npony. The bridles were of deep leather, with single reins and a snaffle\r\nbit. The saddles were merely quilted pads with leather surcingles, and\r\nrather narrow stirrups, but comfortable enough to ride on.\r\n\r\nThe Sakae gave us the impression of a people to whom horses were\r\na means of locomotion rather than a form of sport. But later we\r\nintroduced polo, which was a _succ\xc3\xa8s fou_ among the young bloods.\r\n\r\nAs we rode out of the belt of trees surrounding the house and\r\noutbuildings, we had our first real view of the country, which seemed\r\nto consist of a succession of valleys and ridges of hill, some steep\r\nand rocky, others more rolling, and covered with trees and verdure.\r\n\r\nTo our right lay hills, range after range climbing away to where the\r\ngreat snow-peaks filled the sky in the north, above the shimmering\r\nblue-grey slopes below. The air was cold and clear under the vivid blue\r\nsky, and a little breeze rustled the autumn foliage, splashes of warm\r\ncolour in the bright sunshine. The track we followed sloped steadily\r\ndown for a mile or so, and then up again on to a long ridge of hills\r\nhigher than the ground we had left.\r\n\r\nTo our left, beyond a long expanse of more or less open plain, dotted\r\nwith fields and cultivation as far as eye could see, were masses of\r\nsharp-toothed hills, clustering higher and higher in the direction we\r\nhad seen the gate. Stephnos pointed it out to us as the Shaman country.\r\nI suppose the near edge was thirty miles distant.\r\n\r\nThe hillsides we rode over were fertile-looking soil, terraced in many\r\nplaces, like the terraces one sees all along the hills of the Italian\r\nRiviera, sprinkled with stone-walled orchards and vineyards, the\r\ntrees now in the copper and bronze of autumn leaf, and dotted among\r\nthem little villages, small clusters of grey stone houses, and some\r\nmud-built huts.\r\n\r\nThe houses were small and primitive-looking, but of a distinctly higher\r\nstamp than one sees in many parts of Middle Asia.\r\n\r\nWe passed through one hamlet, and as we rode by the women flocked out\r\nof the houses with an old man or two to touch Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s bridle and\r\nspeak to him. Fine-looking women most of them, typical peasantry of\r\nundoubted white stock. There were none there as dark as a Southern\r\nItalian, and the majority of them had light-coloured hair, while all\r\nhad light-coloured eyes. With them a swarm of children, flaxen hair and\r\nred cheeks, that made me homesick for Sussex.\r\n\r\nThe women were all clad in rough homespun woollen garments, short full\r\nskirts, and bodices with short sleeves ending above the elbows. Some\r\nwere barefooted, but the majority had heavy sandals with wooden soles.\r\nFor the most part they were bareheaded, their hair coiled in thick\r\nplaits on either side of the head, and some--the more well-to-do--wore\r\nheavy necklaces of silver and turquoise, a favourite stone in the\r\ncountry. One I noticed had clasps of similar make in her hair.\r\n\r\nThis woman was, I fancy, the wife of the head man of the village,\r\nbecause she did most of the talking with Kyrlos.\r\n\r\nIt was refreshing to see women coming up and talking to men in this way\r\nafter years spent in countries where the women sit with half-veiled\r\nfaces in the background as you ride by.\r\n\r\nThey were evidently anxious, from the way they talked--not surprising,\r\nfor, as we found a little later, we were but five miles from the border\r\nof the Brown Sakae.\r\n\r\nThey looked at us curiously, our clothes being obviously unfamiliar.\r\nThe head woman asked Kyrlos who we were, and he told her that we were\r\nthe people who had brought Aryenis back. They had heard of her return\r\nthe evening before, the news having gone through that bit of the\r\ncountry like wildfire, for Aryenis was beloved of every man, woman, and\r\nchild in the place. They took stock of us unabashed thereafter, and, I\r\nthink, made remarks on our personal appearances.\r\n\r\nI asked Stephnos why there were so few men about, and he told me that\r\nthey had been called up to the fort to which we were riding, to guard\r\nthe frontier.\r\n\r\nAs we rode on again between the silver birch trees lining the road, he\r\nexplained to me that they had but a small army for police and frontier\r\nwork against raiders from other clans. Raids were not infrequent even\r\nin peace-time. Small affairs as a rule, however, which were frequently\r\nstopped for years together by mutual consent. His father\xe2\x80\x99s regular\r\ntroops amounted to some two thousand men, including those under his\r\nuncle in the northern part of their country.\r\n\r\nBut all able-bodied men were liable to military service for fourteen\r\ndays in the year, and in case of invasion or threat of invasion for as\r\nlong as required. He said we should see the men of this district when\r\nwe got to the fort, which lay on the far side of the hill up which we\r\nwere riding.\r\n\r\nAs we came over the crest, riding through fields of lucerne, Stephnos\r\npointed out to me a big winding river that ran below us in a wide\r\nvalley perhaps six miles and more across, and at the foot, some two\r\nmiles away, a low, square fort on a small hillock jutting up sheer\r\nabove the river.\r\n\r\nAs we drew nearer, we could see the glint of the sun on the sentries\xe2\x80\x99\r\ncaps just above the parapets, and from the top of a little central\r\ntower a blue flag waved in the breeze.\r\n\r\nBelow the fort was a little village with one or two shops. Most of the\r\nbuildings were, however, shut up, clear evidence of prospective war.\r\n\r\nOur ponies clattered up the steep winding path to the fort through a\r\nnarrow gateway on the edge of a precipitous drop. Two sentries clashed\r\nthe iron butts of their short spears to the ground as we entered\r\n(Kyrlos had sent one of our escort ahead to warn them of our approach),\r\nand at the inner gate we found the captain of the fort waiting to greet\r\nus, a tall broad man in close-mail jerkin and steel cap, with a silver\r\ndevice let in in front. Kyrlos introduced him to us, and he saluted\r\neach of us in turn; but, when he heard that I was the man who had\r\nrescued Aryenis, he offered me the hilt of his sword. I owe a lot of\r\nstout friends to Aryenis, it seems. He was a quiet, determined-looking\r\nman, his natural good looks somewhat marred by an ugly gash across the\r\nforehead, which gave one eyelid rather a droop.\r\n\r\nBut his mouth was straight and honest, and I think a man\xe2\x80\x99s mouth is the\r\nbest index to his character, although his eyes may show more of passing\r\nemotions. I liked him then and there--his square-chinned bronzed face\r\nwith the short yellow-brown moustache under the slightly aquiline nose,\r\nhis steady blue-grey eyes looking straight out below the dark rim of\r\nhis grey steel cap under which his bobbed yellow locks just showed, all\r\ngave one the impression of a leader of men. His name was Henga, and we\r\nlearnt that he was the younger son of a big landholder in the district.\r\nAmong the Sakae it is customary for the regular troops to be officered\r\nby the sons of the smaller chiefs from whose districts the men are\r\ndrawn, forming thus to some extent a professional officer class.\r\n\r\nWe dismounted from our ponies, and, while Kyrlos was conferring with\r\nHenga, Stephnos showed us round the fort with its high stone walls and\r\nbattlements, and the quarters for the garrison and the storerooms all\r\nalong the lower part.\r\n\r\nHe said there was a chain of such forts along the frontier, covering\r\nthe most important entries into the country.\r\n\r\nEach had its garrison of from fifty to one hundred regulars, and formed\r\nthe centre of resistance for the surrounding countryside. When danger\r\nthreatened, the officer in charge could call up the men of the district\r\nin such numbers as he required, either to defend the fort, or to hold\r\nthe frontier, or to deal with raiders.\r\n\r\nEach fort contained food and war stores, arrows and the like, for two\r\nmonths for twice its normal garrison. When men were called up for\r\nservice, they had to join with four days\xe2\x80\x99 food, a bow, a sword, axe or\r\nknife, and a cloak or sleeping-rug.\r\n\r\nAs we climbed on to the battlements he pointed out below us a company\r\nof men man\xc5\x93uvring, and said these were some of the men called up. The\r\nothers, in small bands under the leadership of regulars, were watching\r\nthe frontier up to where they linked with the next fort garrison some\r\nten miles away.\r\n\r\nI asked if all the clans had this system of military service, and he\r\nsaid that all had something like it; but for the last two years his\r\nfather and uncle, feeling that war was inevitable, had been perfecting\r\nthat of the Blue Sakae.\r\n\r\nThe regular companies had a very high percentage--in some cases fifty\r\nper cent--of what they call \xe2\x80\x9cdouble-pay men\xe2\x80\x9d (what we should call\r\nN.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s), who were specially trained, and drew double pay for their\r\nefficiency. Most of these were used to command the local levies in\r\ntime of emergency. Thus expansion for war was easy with a nucleus of\r\ntrained leaders. Living in the same districts, they were in touch with\r\nthe civil population, and knew the men whom they would command in war.\r\n\r\nMen were not paid when called up for service, their military service\r\nbeing part return for their lands, all of which belonged in theory to\r\nthe chiefs, although, as long as the owner paid his taxes, and--in the\r\ncase of able-bodied men--rendered his military service, he could not be\r\ndispossessed. Thus land passed down from generation to generation in\r\nthe same family.\r\n\r\nIn the case of old or disabled men, women, or minor children who held\r\nland, the full tax had to be paid, while in other cases the amount of\r\ntax due was reduced by a proportion for each day of military service\r\nrendered. In the frontier districts, in addition to the normal fourteen\r\ndays, each village was collectively responsible for turning out to\r\nrepel and pursue raiders. For this no individual reduction of tax was\r\nmade, but the whole taxes of the frontier districts were assessed more\r\nlightly.\r\n\r\nI did not glean all this on the afternoon I am describing, but I\r\nmention it now so as to give a clearer picture of the country.\r\n\r\nI climbed up to the battlements with Stephnos and stood by the sentry,\r\nwho, with his long bow beside him, was gazing out over the country in\r\nfront. There were other sentries farther along, one to each face of the\r\nfort.\r\n\r\nIt reminded me very much of a frontier post on the Indian border--the\r\nsame loopholes, the same keen-eyed, Greek-profiled sentries, the same\r\nhills in front shimmering in the bright sunlight. But the country was\r\nfar richer than anything along the Punjab frontier--more akin, indeed,\r\nto an English countryside than anything I have ever seen in the East.\r\n\r\nIn front toward the west stretched the plain we had seen from above,\r\nwith the broad river winding its slow way through the rich fields into\r\nthe fertile valley behind us, and then in the distance the fantastic,\r\npinnacled, rocky hills of the Shaman country.\r\n\r\nStephnos pointed out a little irrigation canal some three quarters\r\nof a mile away, which he said was the boundary in these parts. I saw\r\nfew people moving in the fields, and he explained that nearly all had\r\nwithdrawn behind the line of forts.\r\n\r\nTo northward, beyond the river, lay a row of hills and a mass of\r\nundulating country, well cultivated by the look of it. The country all\r\nround here was in the main watered by the Astara, which, taking its\r\nrise from the high snow, came down first as a fairly fast mountain\r\nstream, and then, as the gradients got less, moved slower and slower,\r\ntill it meandered through this part of the country, sluggish as an\r\nEnglish stream in the Midlands.\r\n\r\nStephnos said that this was the richest valley in the country, and\r\nperhaps one of the causes of the jealousy of the enemy. But the Green\r\nSakae country was almost as fertile; indeed, nowhere was the land\r\nreally poor save the part of the Brown Sakae country round the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99\r\nterritory, which we found later was in a way industrial, possessing\r\nmetal mines which were worked. In consequence the Shamans were well\r\noff, being able to dispose of their metal-work for whatever they needed\r\nin the way of grain and other land produce.\r\n\r\nThere were other metal-workers in the country and one or two small\r\nmines, but the Shamans were reputed the best craftsmen, and their wares\r\ncommanded a high price. They were particularly noted for their weapons\r\nand armour.\r\n\r\nBefore we left, Henga took us down to see the men drilling below. They\r\nwere camped on an open space under the fort, some two hundred men in\r\nall.\r\n\r\nThey were of the same type as we had seen at Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s house, save, of\r\ncourse, their equipment was somewhat sketchy. But every one had the\r\nlong bow, which we discovered to be the national weapon. Most of them\r\nhad some form of body protection, either leather jerkins, some covered\r\nwith loose metal rings sewn on; some plain, or else thick wadded vests\r\nwhich might turn a blow. Not a few had steel caps; the remainder had\r\nclose-fitting, thick wadded ones. I noticed that these last--although\r\nof harder and stronger material and of different colour--were\r\npractically indistinguishable in shape from the caps worn in the\r\nPunjab Salt Range, slightly peaked, straight round the brow, with low\r\near-pieces sweeping round to the back.\r\n\r\nAlmost every one of these caps was oversewn with either strips of metal\r\nrings or short lengths of iron chain.\r\n\r\nIt was easy to pick out the regulars, who were more or less uniformly\r\ndressed, all having mail jerkin and steel cap. The N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s had small\r\nbrass stars fastened to the front of their headgear.\r\n\r\nKyrlos chatted with some of the older men, and one could see that he\r\nwas a popular ruler, for, although there was none of the exaggerated\r\nrespect so common in the East, it was clear from his people\xe2\x80\x99s bearing\r\nthat they looked upon him as their natural leader.\r\n\r\nI noticed that he shook hands with all and sundry on meeting them,\r\nand I put down his position as very much that of the patriarch of the\r\ntribe, an impression that later observations confirmed. Every one was\r\nfree, and had the right of free speech where he considered himself\r\naggrieved; but this freedom was tempered with a certain respect for\r\nthose in authority, provided they stuck to the laws and--what was even\r\nmore important--the customs of the land.\r\n\r\nAs we rode home, I remarked to Kyrlos that, save for the gathering of\r\nmen, it all seemed very peaceful, and he said that that was because\r\nboth sides were preparing for war--at least they thought the Shamans\r\nwere preparing. For some days yet there would be nothing except minor\r\nraids here and there and perhaps but few of those. It took time to\r\ncollect men and form them. His main forces were collecting at Miletis,\r\nwhere his brother had gone to supervise things.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTo-morrow we shall ride halfway there, some sixteen miles to Aornos,\r\na fortified town. Then next day we will ride on and meet my brother,\r\nwhose army by now will be reaching Miletis.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs he was speaking, we passed three men--obviously called up for\r\nservice--on their way back to the fort, and I noticed that all three\r\nwore something in their caps. One had a tassel of floss silk, another a\r\nlittle square talisman of turquoise, the third a gay-coloured bunch of\r\nribbons.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat are these things in their caps, Kyrlos?\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\nHe looked at them to see what I meant.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, that is a custom of our land. Whenever there is war and the men\r\nare called out, their wives or their sweethearts give them some favour\r\nto wear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd if a man have neither wife nor sweetheart?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen he must go ask some maid to give him a favour; or sometimes\xe2\x80\x9d--he\r\nchuckled--\xe2\x80\x9cit has been known, when a young fellow is rather bashful,\r\nthat the maid herself will fling him one as he marches away.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd is he thereby tied to anything?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy no means, though frequently such things lead to more. But it is\r\ngood when a wifeless man goes out to fight that he should have some\r\nspecial maid to think of. He is the more anxious to dispose of the\r\nenemy quickly and so come home again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf nothing comes of it when he returns, there is no harm. But if he\r\nreturn wearing a maiden\xe2\x80\x99s favour and seek her out, he knows that she is\r\nnot unwilling if her favour has been bravely borne in battle.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe thought of a pair of white arms and red lips will make a man fight\r\nbetter than the thought of all the gold and honours in the land. Is it\r\nnot so also in your country?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIndeed, I think it is somewhat this way the world over, and will be\r\nwhile men are men and women are women, though I have heard folk talk as\r\nthough such things were dead and gone, and that women preferred gold\r\nand luxury to strong arms and brave hearts.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhich talk must be untrue, since the thing that every woman desires\r\nin her secret heart more than all else beside is to bring forth\r\nstraight-limbed children after the mould of their father: she does not\r\ndesire to beget money-bags. Hence unless her nature be warped will she\r\nseek rather a clean-souled, strong-limbed man to father her children.\r\nTherefore I like to see my folk wearing their women\xe2\x80\x99s favours. It is an\r\nomen for the generations to come.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt was clear that Kyrlos and his kind had a refreshingly primitive\r\noutlook on life. I should like to have put him up to argue with a\r\npacifist eugenist such as seem to swarm at home just now.\r\n\r\nHe was silent a space, and then he turned to me again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou said last night that you and your friends were wifeless men. It\r\nseems strange to me, for in our country it is uncommon that men of your\r\nyears should be unwed. You are all close on thirty, I should say, while\r\nour folk marry mostly at twenty-five or six. Is the custom of your\r\ncountry other?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe marry somewhat later, Kyrlos. In our country it requires money to\r\nsupport wife and children, and but few young men have it. Further,\r\nsince many of us wander much in strange parts, it comes that we marry\r\nlater.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt seems impolitic that such a matter should depend on gold, for\r\nsurely the State must suffer when men like you and your friends remain\r\nsingle.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut perhaps, O Kyrlos, we have not met with such as we would marry, or\r\nperhaps those whom we would marry would not have us! With us it is the\r\nwoman who decides rather than the man.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWith us also. It is not so in all lands?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn many it is otherwise, or so they say. Often it is the girl\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nparents, and in some countries the parents of both, who settle these\r\nmatters.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat is bad, methinks; such things should be for the man and for the\r\nwoman. But I should be grieved to think of seeing Stephnos at your\r\nthirty years and still unwed.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThirty-two--O Kyrlos. But, if I had been married, doubtless I should\r\nhave remained at home, and then maybe the Lady Aryenis would not be\r\nwith you now, so perhaps our customs have some value upon occasion.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoubtless, my friend; all things are well planned could we but see\r\nahead.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he changed the subject, and for the rest of our ride back talked\r\nof the coming war. I could see that at heart his cares lay heavy upon\r\nhim for all his cheerful talk to his people.\r\n\r\nAfter a lazy afternoon spent with Aryenis looking round the grounds\r\nand asking questions about the country, we had an early evening meal,\r\nfor Kyrlos had announced that we should start very early the next day.\r\nAryenis went to bed soon after dinner, and we followed her example,\r\nsince Kyrlos was busy hearing the reports of his officers back from the\r\ndistricts.\r\n\r\nBefore we went to bed, Payindah and Firoz plied us with questions as to\r\nthe exact relationship between the Sakae and Sikandar, and hence with\r\nthemselves. We gathered that they had settled down most comfortably,\r\nand Payindah in particular was the hero of the soldiers, since Aryenis\r\nhad explained his share in her escape. Like all Punjabis, he was not\r\ndevoid of swagger, and his locks were new-curled and oiled, and his\r\nleather new-cleaned, while I remarked that he had obtained a silk\r\nfringe for the end of his _pagri_.\r\n\r\nDuring the afternoon they had accompanied some of the soldiers into the\r\nneighbouring village, where they had been the guests of the day, and\r\nreferred with some gusto to the excellent sherbet that had been given\r\nto them. I fear their ignorance of the language misled them in the\r\nmatter of the country white wine.\r\n\r\nThey were full of praise of the rich land they had seen, comparing it\r\nwith France. Firoz, in fact, wondered whether it would be possible\r\nto take up a bit of it, and his eyes glistened as he described the\r\nflourishing countryside.\r\n\r\nThey considered the people as almost as good as their own folk, though\r\nhow on earth they managed to converse with them I don\xe2\x80\x99t know. Still\r\nno good fighting man is ever at a loss how to make himself at home,\r\nand these two hard-bitten, war-seasoned, hereditary soldiers were no\r\nexception to the general rule, as I knew from past experience.\r\n\r\nPayindah\xe2\x80\x99s handling of a portly French farm-wife and the resultant\r\ndelicacies which appeared in my company mess in consequence in the\r\nmuddy days of 1914-15 still linger in my memory as bright spots upon\r\nan otherwise murky horizon. So doubtless he had no difficulty in\r\nexplaining his meaning to the Sakae, even more akin to the peasant\r\nsoldier of the Northern Punjab than were the stalwart peasantry of\r\nNorthern France.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XV\r\n\r\nWE SPEAK WITH AN ENVOY AND RIDE TO AORNOS\r\n\r\n\r\nNext morning we found the whole place astir, horses outside ready\r\nsaddled, and pack-animals waiting to be loaded. Aryenis was dressed in\r\nriding-clothes, a sort of long coat like the first appearance of the\r\ndivided skirt before women took to the simple breeches and coat they\r\nwear so much nowadays, when nearly all ride astride.\r\n\r\nPayindah and Firoz had packed most of our stuff overnight, and what\r\nlittle was left they finished while we breakfasted. As we came out, I\r\nnoticed how shabby the two Punjabis\xe2\x80\x99 travel-worn kit looked compared to\r\nthe clothing of the men around, though these were in their war-gear,\r\nand I said to Aryenis that I hoped we should be able to refit soon, as\r\nwe were all pretty disreputable.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen we get to Miletis you will find clothes all right, Harilek; but\r\nyou will have to wear those of our people, I think, unless you desire\r\nespecially that your own should be copied.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe got to horse and started down the same track we had followed the\r\nprevious day. As we set out, I saw Firoz and Payindah riding two stout\r\nponies, with their rifles slung, and carrying ours at the saddle bow.\r\nForsyth\xe2\x80\x99s rifle was borne by one of the soldiers, who was displaying\r\nthe wonderful weapon to his friends, very proud of the trust reposed in\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nI noticed, hanging on Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s saddle, the steel cap Wrexham had\r\nrecovered from the man I killed at the gate, and took it from him to\r\nlook at it again, for it was of curious workmanship, and more ornate\r\nthan the usual type. Evidently the late owner was a person of quality\r\namong the Shamans.\r\n\r\nWe had ridden perhaps a mile--I was talking to Aryenis--when from up\r\nthe path in front of us dashed a man on a small pony, a regular soldier\r\nby his dress. He pulled up his beast, and, saluting Kyrlos, handed him\r\na paper which Kyrlos read and then called to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek, I hear from Henga, whom you met yesterday, that there is an\r\nenvoy from the Shamans arrived at his fort. The manner of his letter\r\nputs me in some doubt, and I would ride there and speak with the man.\r\nIf your friends will accompany Aryenis to Aornos, we will take a few\r\nmen and push on.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI could see that the others would have liked to come, too, but, since\r\nKyrlos did not suggest it, they said nothing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe shall meet you at Aornos in the afternoon when I have heard what\r\nthe Shamans have to say,\xe2\x80\x9d said Kyrlos to them. Then to me: \xe2\x80\x9cI think it\r\nwould be well to bring that man of yours with us. He was with you in\r\nthe gate, and perhaps he will be useful.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo I beckoned up Payindah, telling him to ride with us.\r\n\r\nSix of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s mounted bowmen accompanied us, and, waving to the rest\r\nof the party, we trotted on down the path. For a time Kyrlos said\r\nnothing. He seemed to be thinking.\r\n\r\nThen, when we pulled our horses to a walk as we crossed the valley and\r\nbreasted the hill in front, he turned to me and said:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt seems that perchance the Shamans do not know of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s return,\r\nnor that I know how the old chief was killed, for Henga writes that\r\nthis envoy comes from the Shamans to express their sorrow at my\r\ndaughter\xe2\x80\x99s death at the hands of the Brown Sakae, and to invite me to\r\ntheir country to see justice done on the murderers. Therefore, he has\r\nsaid nothing to them about her escape.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere is clearly some plot, though as yet I cannot see what is\r\nintended. But since they say that Aryenis is dead, we will say naught\r\nat first and let them speak.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you think they wish to throw the blame on others so as to patch up\r\npeace?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot merely to patch up peace, for I know they have sought war this\r\nlong time. But I think they hope to kill me and others of our chiefs,\r\nso that our people, being as sheep without a shepherd, may fall the\r\neasier into their hands. But we shall know more when we hear what they\r\nhave to say. Come, we have a long ride to-day.\xe2\x80\x9d He kicked his horse to\r\na canter as the slope became less steep.\r\n\r\nHalf an hour later saw us in sight of the fort, and presently, riding\r\nthrough the little village, we found Henga with a strong guard behind\r\nhim waiting for us below the fort gate.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe Shaman envoy is out on the open space,\xe2\x80\x9d he said as he greeted us.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI fear treachery, and all my men above are at their stations. But\r\nI know not what the plan may be, for the envoy has but a dozen men,\r\nthough all well horsed.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs he alone?\xe2\x80\x9d asked Kyrlos, as we dismounted.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. Besides the envoy there is Atana, the chief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s nephew, whom\r\nyou remember at the last council when I commanded your escort, sir: one\r\nagainst whom I have a score to pay; an evil-looking man of bad repute\r\neven among the Shamans. The envoy I know not.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nKyrlos looked at me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThose clothes of yours are noticeable, Harilek. I think we will change\r\nthem. Henga, send a man for a spare set of yours and a mail shirt from\r\nthe armoury.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWithin ten minutes or so I was arrayed in a suit of Henga\xe2\x80\x99s clothes,\r\nwhich, barring being a shade loose, for he was a broader man than I,\r\nfitted me well. The mail jerkin he gave me was light and comfortable,\r\nwhile the steel cap fitted reasonably, and was lighter than the battle\r\nbowler one wore in old days.\r\n\r\nI told Payindah to conceal his rifle in his _poshtin_, and to keep\r\namong Henga\xe2\x80\x99s men out of sight of the Shamans. Just as we were\r\nstarting, Kyrlos seemed to remember something, and told me to bring the\r\nsteel helmet we had taken in the gate, but to keep it hidden for the\r\npresent.\r\n\r\nWe passed through the camp below the fort, and on the far side of the\r\nopen space beyond it saw a dozen men standing by their horses. From\r\nthe cut of their clothing it was clear to me that these must be the\r\nenvoy\xe2\x80\x99s party. In the centre of the parade-ground a willow branch was\r\nset up, which I discovered later was the sign that there was truce for\r\nfour hundred paces around. This was the custom when envoys came in time\r\nof war.\r\n\r\nKyrlos, Henga, and I walked out to the willow branch, and then Henga\r\ncalled upon the Shaman envoy to deliver his message.\r\n\r\nFrom the group opposite three men advanced, two of them the most\r\nsinister-looking fellows it had been my fortune to meet for some time.\r\n\r\nThe first was the envoy himself, a dark man clad in a short black\r\nsurcoat and black steel cap. He appeared to be unarmed, and carried an\r\nunshod white arrow in his hand.\r\n\r\nBehind him walked two others, both mail-clad with the same black steel\r\ncaps, but armed. The custom of Sakae truce meetings is that each man\r\ncarries his sword, but that bows may not be brought within arrow-shot\r\nof the speaking place.\r\n\r\nAlso, unless peace is made, the visiting party rides straight away\r\nafter the conference. This I mention, because, the moment the three\r\ncame over, I saw the rest girthing up their mounts, and asked Kyrlos\r\nthe meaning. As he told me, he said, \xe2\x80\x9cDo not speak any more at present.\r\nI wish them to think you one of my officers.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThey halted three paces from us.\r\n\r\nThen Kyrlos, speaking in Greek, asked their mission. Some of the more\r\nformal speech was in Greek, which I was able to follow. The rest was\r\nin their own language, which Kyrlos translated to me later. There was\r\na certain difference between the Shaman dialect and that of the Blue\r\nSakae, and it was therefore customary, if either party so desired, to\r\ncarry out conversations of this sort in the old tongue, and I think\r\nKyrlos opened in Greek in order that I might be able to understand.\r\n\r\nI will give the drift of the envoy\xe2\x80\x99s speech.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLord Kyrlos! The chief Shaman, speaking by my mouth, sends greetings\r\nand great sorrow at the death of your daughter at the hands of certain\r\nevilly disposed men of the Brown Sakae. When the south section of the\r\nGreen Sakae rose against their chief, he and your daughter, by great\r\nmisfortune, came into the hands of Brown Sakae robbers, who slew them\r\nwhile they sought refuge on our border. And having slain them, they\r\nburnt the bodies lest their deed should be discovered. My master,\r\nthe chief Shaman, was full of grief when he received the news, and\r\nforthwith sent men, of whom Atana was one, to capture the murderers, so\r\nthat they might pass into the gate after judgment had been executed in\r\nyour presence.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut, alas! certain equally evil ones reported to you that our people\r\nwere concerned in this foul deed, so that next we heard that you had\r\ntaken up arms and were preparing for war.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTherefore my master sent me in haste to speak with you, exposing the\r\ntrue state of affairs, and praying you come with us that you might see\r\nwith your own eyes that fit punishment was duly inflicted upon the\r\nmurderers.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFor my master seeks not war, but peace. He desires the liberty and\r\nhappiness of all men, and it grieves him much that, while the other\r\nclans have joined with him, you alone with your brother remain away\r\nfrom the council, where he plans the well-being of all the Sakae, and\r\ninstead prepare your people for war, which war, indeed, can lead to\r\nnaught but your destruction, for we are many and you are but the one\r\nclan.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTherefore he prays you cease these warlike preparations, and ride with\r\nus to see justice done, bringing, if you desire, as proof of our good\r\nfaith, a company of your own men, and letting the rest of your folk\r\nreturn to their homes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOf his great regret he will speak more anon. Words are idle things\r\nin the face of such sorrow as yours, but my master hopes that, when\r\nyou speak with him face to face, he will better be able to express the\r\ngrief that has come upon him at your great misfortune.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe envoy ceased, and I must say I gasped at the cool effrontery of it\r\nall.\r\n\r\nBut Kyrlos stood silent, smoothing his chin reflectively, a trick he\r\nhas when thinking deeply.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis is grievous news ye bring, though I feared, indeed, that my\r\ndaughter and her host were dead. And, as you say, it was reported to me\r\nthat certain of your people had slain them. Atana, you say, went out to\r\nbring in the murderers?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAtana stepped forward. He was the taller of the two who accompanied\r\nthe envoy. His face seemed to me slightly Mongolian in type, though\r\nfair-skinned. There was a certain upward trend in the eyes that gave me\r\nthe impression. And his mouth was one of the cruellest I have ever seen\r\nin a man.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Lord Kyrlos. Taking certain of my men, I rode out into the hills,\r\nand we came upon the evildoers in the act of dividing your daughter\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nthings. As they resisted us, some were slain on the spot, others we\r\ntook; and after the chief Shaman had questioned them, as is his wont,\r\nwe put them aside for judgment until you should come.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd the bodies of the old chief and of my daughter were burnt, you\r\nsay?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt grieves me greatly to have to say this thing, but so it was, Lord\r\nKyrlos. I examined the place myself, and we found the charred remains\r\nof a man and a woman, and there were certain pieces of garments which\r\nwe brought with us in case there was any doubt.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nFrom a small bag he produced some charred fragments of cloth, which he\r\nhanded to Kyrlos.\r\n\r\nKyrlos examined them closely. \xe2\x80\x9cUndoubtedly,\xe2\x80\x9d said he slowly and sadly.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat piece of embroidery I remember well on my daughter\xe2\x80\x99s dress.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI think the Shaman envoy thought he had carried the day.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTherefore will I certainly ride into your country and see justice done\r\nupon the murderers, even as your master suggests.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut first there is a small matter I would speak of. There came to me\r\na certain man, who said that the old chief and my daughter were seen\r\nnear your master\xe2\x80\x99s fortress--nay, even that they were seen at the Gate\r\nof Death. The man went further, and said that he saw the old chief\r\nslain there, even as those guilty of great crimes and sentenced by the\r\nwhole council are put to death.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe lied,\xe2\x80\x9d said the envoy. \xe2\x80\x9cHave we not proven to you how the real\r\nfacts are?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut stay; he went even further, and said that my daughter was seen\r\nthere, bound also in shameful fashion.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe lies again, doubtless desiring to stir up strife between you and my\r\nmaster. No man has ever been in sight of the gate save those who die\r\nand those of my master\xe2\x80\x99s guards who slay.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo I thought, but he said that, after the old chief had been killed, a\r\ncertain strange man rushed in and carried away my daughter, and while\r\nso doing slew some of your folk in strange fashion with a noise.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI saw the envoy\xe2\x80\x99s jaw drop, and I wondered if he had been at the\r\nloopholes when Payindah was sniping them. He collected himself, and was\r\nabout to reply, when Kyrlos stopped him and went on:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd to convince me he brought proof, firstly bringing my daughter\r\nalive and well.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThat really stupefied them. Like the Sakae, they had no knowledge of\r\nany way into their country except the gate, and thought that, if we\r\nwere men and not evil spirits, we must have carried off Aryenis into\r\nthe desert. The last thing they ever imagined was that she had been\r\nbrought back to her own people. And so doubtless they hoped to put\r\nthe blame on to raiders, and then, by inducing Kyrlos to cease his\r\npreparations, to fall upon him unawares, even if they were not able to\r\ninveigle him into their country, where they would murder him and his\r\nmen.\r\n\r\nBefore the envoy could speak again, Kyrlos took the helmet from my\r\nhand, unwrapped it, and threw it down at their feet, saying:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd there is the helmet of one of the murderers, with upon it the\r\ndevice of the chief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s guard, brought by the man who slew him, he\r\nwho stands here now\xe2\x80\x9d--and he indicated me.\r\n\r\nThen he went on. \xe2\x80\x9cTherefore will I ride before long into your country\r\nto do justice. But I will not ride with a company of my men. I will\r\nride with all my people; and when I come to the Shaman fortress, I will\r\ngorge the vultures in the gate, and their last and fittest meal shall\r\nbe your master\xe2\x80\x99s heart.\xe2\x80\x9d He pointed to the nearly leafless trees. \xe2\x80\x9cTell\r\nhim that sent you that I swear by God, that, before the spring buds\r\nshow, he and his friends shall lie out in the Gate of Death and the\r\nland be purged of the Shaman curse that we have suffered these late\r\nyears.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGo. You have my leave to depart.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBut, as the envoy turned to go, Atana, whose face was convulsed with\r\nrage, spoke up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYour message shall be delivered, and, as you say, the vultures shall\r\nbe gorged before spring. But we will feed you to them slowly, so that\r\nyou may see how white-skinned Aryenis likes living with me and my\r\narchers in the gate. We rejoice that she is not dead, for the kept\r\nwomen there lack variety, and it went to my heart when my uncle bade me\r\nput her out of the gate so soon, and waste such pleasing charms ere we\r\nhad tasted them a space.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI wonder Kyrlos did not kill him then, but apparently it was a crime\r\nbeyond all words to touch an envoy or his party.\r\n\r\nBut Henga stepped up to him, and, looking into his face, said slowly:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFor that, and for other things you know of, I, Henga, when next I meet\r\nyou, will kill you with these two hands. Now, go quickly, lest I kill\r\nyou here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAtana looked at him, apparently recognizing him for the first time,\r\nthen spat on the ground:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo \xe2\x80\x99tis Henga, the cousin of the sweet and easy lady my brother\r\nfancied so. \xe2\x80\x99Tis sad she died so young.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd, with a mocking laugh, he turned to follow the others.\r\n\r\nThen occurred a thing unparalleled in the history of the Sakae, who\r\nconsider an envoy\xe2\x80\x99s truce most sacred. Suddenly turning, Atana flung\r\nhis dagger straight at Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s throat, and then fled for his life to\r\nthe horses. It missed its mark by a bare inch, tearing through the\r\nleather collar of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s under-jerkin, just over the mail, ripping a\r\nlong, though luckily not deep, gash at the base of his neck.\r\n\r\nThe thing was clearly premeditated, for his men were in the saddle\r\nas he did it, and two of them dashed forward with his horse. Before\r\nthe bowmen above us could loose string, the whole lot of the Shamans,\r\nbending low in their saddles, were out of arrow-shot away across\r\ncountry as hard as they could go.\r\n\r\nBut they had reckoned without Payindah. As Kyrlos staggered back\r\nagainst me, Payindah whipped his rifle from under his _poshtin_ and\r\nopened fire. He brought down three of them before they were out of\r\nrange, and the second was Atana, who was pitched out of the saddle, as\r\nhis horse went down, with a smashed shoulder.\r\n\r\nHe picked himself up and ran shouting after his men, though I doubt\r\nif these would have faced Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s lead. But Henga was after him,\r\nrunning like a deer. Atana saw him, and, seeing him gaining, drew his\r\nsword and turned, and a minute later they were at it.\r\n\r\nThe fight did not last two minutes. Seeing Kyrlos was not badly hurt,\r\nI, with several of the men, had followed Henga, and, as we got there,\r\nwe saw Atana\xe2\x80\x99s sword slip from his grip as Henga\xe2\x80\x99s steel ploughed up\r\nhis wrist under the mail. I thought Henga would give him the point in\r\nthe throat then and there.\r\n\r\nBut instead he dropped his weapon, sprang on Atana, and hurled him on\r\nhis face on the ground, kneeling above him, and with his knees pinning\r\nhis arms to his side. Atana fought and writhed to get his arms free as\r\nHenga seized him with both hands under the chin, twisting the man\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhead up and back till he could look down into his face.\r\n\r\nThen he said slowly and distinctly:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou miscalled the Lady Aryenis just now, and said you would bring her\r\nto shame even as you and your brother did my cousin. For these things I\r\npromised to kill you with my two hands.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen I send your brother to join you in hell, remember to tell him\r\nthat I kept my word.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd with that he twisted Atana\xe2\x80\x99s head very slowly round and back,\r\nlooking down into his face the while, the man\xe2\x80\x99s eyes starting from his\r\nhead, and his legs threshing the ground till suddenly something seemed\r\nto give; he straightened out slowly, gave a spasmodic jerk and a long\r\nshiver, and lay still.\r\n\r\nHenga waited an instant before he loosed his grip. Then he got slowly\r\nto his feet, and, picking up his sword, wiped it on the dead man\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ncape. He rolled over the body with his foot, the limp head grotesquely\r\ntwisted back, and looked at it thoughtfully.\r\n\r\nSpitting on the ground, he turned to me:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe world is somewhat cleaner now. That is a useful trick, which I\r\nhave practised long against the day when Atana or his brother and I\r\nshould meet.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is,\xe2\x80\x9d I said. \xe2\x80\x9cI envy you that piece of work, which I would have\r\nliked to do myself, but it seems that you have the greater right.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nMy blood boiled as I thought of those cruel leering eyes looking at\r\nAryenis in the gate.\r\n\r\nPayindah had come running up just at the end, and, as Henga got up and\r\nwiped his sword, he said to him in Punjabi:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x99Twas well thrown that, and you held the son of an evil father down\r\ncleverly ere you sent him to his own place. I would like to wrestle\r\nwith you one day, for I also am a wrestler of note.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI translated this to Henga, and he smiled.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTell your man I thank him for his words, and will gladly wrestle with\r\nhim later. There are ten silver pieces for the first soldier who throws\r\nme, but none have earned them yet, though all the stout lads try.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe Shamans had disappeared by now, and Henga\xe2\x80\x99s men came up, bearing\r\nthe other two men whom Payindah had hit. One was stone dead, a bullet\r\nbetween the shoulders; the other still breathed, though he looked as\r\nif he had not long to go, for the bullet had caught him just over the\r\ngroin, and his face was drawn and sweaty, and his lips were blue.\r\n\r\nThe men said something to Henga, who turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey ask if they shall kill. He has broken the truce, and has no right\r\nto life. But he is your man\xe2\x80\x99s man.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, \xe2\x80\x9cwe do not kill wounded men without reason. This man is\r\nbut a soldier who followed his leader. Let him live, though I think it\r\nwill not be for long.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe turned and spoke to the soldiers, who looked surprised, but they\r\nsaid nothing, and, picking up the wounded man, carried him up to the\r\nfort.\r\n\r\nThen we rejoined Kyrlos, who was sitting down, while one of his men\r\ntied up his neck.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x99Tis but a scratch,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cBut such a thing has never been known\r\nbefore that blood should flow at an envoy\xe2\x80\x99s truce. It was clearly meant\r\nif I refused their terms, for, see you, they were in the saddle before\r\nAtana joined them. Well, they have failed, and now we shall have war,\r\nreal war, till one or other of us goes down. That is a fine weapon you\r\nhave, that kills a man at three times a fair bowshot with naught but a\r\nlittle noise. To us it savours of magic, but you and your friends are\r\nno magicians: you are far too simple in your ways.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd he smiled a little in his grave way.\r\n\r\nThen he turned to Henga. \xe2\x80\x9cI am glad you had your chance of paying your\r\ndebt to that hell-hound. When we ride to their country, you shall come\r\nwith us and settle your account with his brother.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd now,\xe2\x80\x9d said he to me, \xe2\x80\x9cwe will drink a bowl of wine and then ride\r\non to Aornos to catch the rest after you have changed your clothes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI went and changed into my own clothes, after which Henga\xe2\x80\x99s men brought\r\nus bowls of wine, and I noticed that, before Henga drank, he poured a\r\nlittle on the ground as though he were performing some rite.\r\n\r\nThen we mounted, and with our escort set our faces north for Aornos,\r\ncrossing the Astara by a narrow bridge of boats.\r\n\r\nIt was a wide stream, nearly one hundred and fifty yards across, and\r\ndeep by the look of it. In many places the bank was fringed by willow\r\ntrees and covered with turf, while downstream from us fat cattle were\r\ngrazing in the lush meadow grass. As Stephnos had said the day before,\r\nit was a fertile country.\r\n\r\nI asked Kyrlos if there was any special significance in Henga\xe2\x80\x99s pouring\r\nout some of his wine, and he said that it was a custom, after battle,\r\nto thank the gods for good fortune.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAn old pagan custom, but you still see it among some of our people who\r\nfollow the truth. \xe2\x80\x99Tis strange how old customs linger, especially such\r\nsemi-religious ones. And, speaking of pagans, tell me, Harilek, in your\r\nland are there no followers of many gods?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot in my own country, though there be in some of the countries we\r\nrule, for we rule many. In the land where I served as a soldier, and\r\nwhere the men I command came from, there are many such, followers of\r\nstrange gods, each district worshipping their own, and others there be\r\nlike the two soldiers with me, who believe in one God only, but not in\r\nChrist.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cJews, perchance, of whom we read.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, not Jews, though like them in some ways, eating not pork, and\r\npreparing animals for food by cutting their throats, and following\r\nother Jewish customs. But these follow their own prophet Mohammed. Have\r\nyou heard of him?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. We read of false teachers, but of this one I have not heard. But I\r\nam not learned in the matter. You must speak with our priests when you\r\nhave leisure. Perchance they may know of him.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd those among you who are not Christians, what gods do they\r\nworship?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMany. Some harmless, some evil. But the most part follow gods of\r\nsimple kind. Tolerant, and, save that they teach nothing but what is\r\nhuman, and in no way lift up man, harmless for good or evil. Their\r\npriests have sometimes given trouble, fearing lest the people desert\r\nthem and their shrines be left without offerings, but in our clan they\r\nalso are generally well disposed, content with such gifts as the people\r\nbring them, sober, well living, ignorant men.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut among the Brown Sakae they are more evil, and it is said that they\r\nsometimes bring the people back even to the human sacrifices of old\r\ndays of prisoners and such, and certainly they are magicians given to\r\ndark practices, even as the Shamans.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd Henga? What is he?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHenga\xe2\x80\x99s folk are one of the few families of standing among the Blue\r\nSakae who hold to the old gods. Many times I hoped his father, a most\r\nupright and worthy man, would change. He was a firm friend of mine, and\r\nwhen he lay dying I rode to see him. Even upon his deathbed he said to\r\nme that he knew the old gods could not be real, and he hoped soon to\r\nknow the truth, but nowise could he see that my belief was any more\r\nright than his. His eldest son, who now holds his lands, follows his\r\nbelief, a strong, faithful man, whom you will meet at Aornos. I hope\r\nsome day both he and Henga will be persuaded to the truth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat is the story of Henga, and that matter of Atana and his brother?\r\nFrom what he said, \xe2\x80\x99twas clear Atana\xe2\x80\x99s brother or Atana had done some\r\nwrong to one of his folk. He is sad-looking, too.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. He has cause to be sad. It was a cousin of his named Thais,\r\na beautiful girl and of sweet temper, but headstrong. We thought\r\nthey would marry one day. I remember Thais stayed with us awhile the\r\nprevious summer when Henga was with my guard. But he is slow of speech,\r\nand some women think him dull, seeing not his worth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen, in an evil day, while visiting friends among the Green\r\nSakae--there was peace in the land two years ago, peace of a sort--she\r\nmet Atana\xe2\x80\x99s brother Atros, who is an even worse fiend than was Atana.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe feigned to love her, and with false promises induced her to fly\r\nwith him, for she knew her father would never consent to marriage,\r\nhating the Shamans as we do.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut marriage came not, and after a while he tired of her. Finally,\r\nwearying of her importunity--her time was drawing near--he said if she\r\nwould she might return to her own folk, or else he would send her to\r\nthe gate among the archers\xe2\x80\x99 women next day.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBroken with shame, she came that night to one of my men then in the\r\nShamans\xe2\x80\x99 city, and gave him a letter for Henga, whom she remembered in\r\nher trouble. My man, alas! knew not all her story, or he might have\r\nsaved her then. And that night she killed herself.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut, when Henga got her letter, he took oath, as she had asked him,\r\nthat he would kill Atros and Atana, who had helped him. Among our\r\npeople, even among the Christians, the blood feud still remains. But\r\namong those who believe in the old gods, more, perhaps, among Shamans\r\nand the Brown Sakae, it runs from father to son, and Henga swore he\r\nwould act to them in their own fashion.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe took leave and went up disguised into their country, and all but\r\nsucceeded in slaying Atros. But the guards came up in time, and Henga\r\nonly escaped with his life after he got that sword-gash on his forehead\r\nthat maybe you noticed. Since then he has waited his time, and to-day,\r\nas you saw, part of his oath was fulfilled. But presently I hope the\r\nrest will also be lifted from him when we go up against the Shamans.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x99Tis true, doubtless, that God punishes those who spoil His handiwork,\r\nbut it is well that men should sometimes do His justice, lest, from its\r\nslowness, others forget its certainty and take to evil ways.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI felt sorry for Henga. No wonder he looked so sad. I hoped that in\r\nthe fullness of time he would meet Atros, and also, I hoped, I should\r\nbe there to see it. Perhaps I have some streak of savage madness in\r\nme, but, although I do not think I am cruel, and though I hate killing\r\nfor killing\xe2\x80\x99s sake, there are certain times when I feel I could gladly\r\nsit by and see a man die slowly, when I hear of things like this, for\r\ninstance, or when I saw Aryenis bound in the gate.\r\n\r\nWe had ridden over the broad valley and reached the hills beyond.\r\nKyrlos pointed and said:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere is Aornos--see, among the pines up there. \xe2\x80\x99Tis the second\r\nlargest town in our Blue Sakae country. With your wonder-glass you will\r\nbe able to see the houses.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI think of all our belongings, after our rifles, the things that most\r\nimpressed the Sakae were our field-glasses and the telescope.\r\n\r\nI checked my pony, and, looking through the glasses at the faint blur\r\nthat Kyrlos indicated, saw the town, a long stone-walled mass of\r\nhouses, with a high tower in the centre. It nestled among orchards and\r\nterraced fields with many scattered pine woods, on one side of a long\r\nhill with wooded top.\r\n\r\nIn three quarters of an hour more we were following a broad road that\r\nran up to the city. There was a lot of traffic on it, big slow-moving\r\nbullock-carts piled with household gear, chattering troops of women\r\nwith babies and little staring children, a few bodies of half-armed\r\nmen, evidently levies assembling. Kyrlos said these were the people\r\nfrom the frontier villages, many of whom in time of war fled back to\r\nsafer refuge behind the frontier forts.\r\n\r\nA quarter of an hour later saw us riding in under the big gate, amid a\r\nclatter of arms, as the guard turned out and clashed their spears on\r\nthe stone paving.\r\n\r\nIt was a fine gate with high stone towers on either side, in the\r\ncrenellated tops of which one saw the glitter of steel as the sentries\r\npaced to and fro. On either side of the gate a long solid wall of grey\r\ngranite, some forty feet high, slid away to girdle the city, with\r\nbelow it a dry ditch spiked and palisaded. Aornos would be a tough\r\nproposition to take without artillery. Above the big gate, with the\r\ndrawbridge over which we rode, and the massive timber doors nearly a\r\nfoot thick covered with iron plates, were two great beams like cranes,\r\nwhich, to my joy, I later discovered to be a form of a catapult hurling\r\nblocks of stone and nets of smaller stones. We had got back to the\r\nMiddle Ages, all right.\r\n\r\nWe rode up the main street at a footpace, the people saluting Kyrlos as\r\nhe passed. The road was broad and clean, paved with irregular-shaped\r\nblocks of stone, and guttered on either side, while the buildings, if\r\nnot exactly mansions, were for the most part of stone, well built, and\r\ncleanly kept.\r\n\r\nThey were mostly shops here, with an open storey below and balconies\r\nabove. At night the lower part was closed by big wooden doors, with\r\niron bars and large clumsy padlocks. But now all were open, and the\r\nshopkeepers sat there vending their goods and chaffering with the\r\npassers-by.\r\n\r\nThey seemed rather to group by trades. I noticed a series of cloth\r\nshops, then several dealers in earthenware, then a few metal shops\r\nwith copper and brass bowls and iron cooking-utensils displayed. Then\r\na corner devoted to sellers of leather gear, followed by several shops\r\nwhose stock-in-trade seemed to be rope and hemp stuff of all types.\r\n\r\nI suppose it facilitates marketing, or else the shopkeepers can keep\r\nprices more or less level by mutual arrangement. It was nice to see\r\nagain most of the marketing being done by women with baskets, rather\r\nthan by men, as is usually the case in the East:\r\n\r\nStrapping country women, passing in groups from shop to shop,\r\nbareheaded in the sunlight, with their tight cloth bodices and short\r\nfull skirts; town dwellers with finer clothes; here a lady in the\r\nsimpler, straighter dress such as Aryenis wore, with a servant behind\r\nher; there a couple of soldiers in steel caps, bows slung behind them,\r\nchaffing good-naturedly a buxom matron with an unruly donkey.\r\n\r\nAnd over all a vivid blue sky, and beyond, the great snow-peaks of\r\nSaghar Mor--blue shadowed white--that seemed to fill the northern sky.\r\n\r\nWe turned into a winding street that ran slightly uphill, and at the\r\nend came to the entrance of the big tower I had seen. It was built in\r\nthe centre of a high stone-walled enclosure, which formed the citadel\r\nof the town, and inside the walls were soldiers\xe2\x80\x99 barracks, some\r\ndwelling-houses, and the big stone house of Torka, Henga\xe2\x80\x99s brother, who\r\nwas chief of the sub-clan of the Blue Sakae of these parts.\r\n\r\nAs we rode up to the gate, he came out to meet us, a tall, well-built\r\nman, not unlike Henga, but clean-shaven, an uncommon thing among the\r\nSakae. He had a pleasant, very intellectual face, grave and keen. I\r\nlearnt later that he was versed in the law, and after the custom of the\r\nSakae administered law and justice through his district, subject always\r\nto the right of appeal to the chief of the clan.\r\n\r\nAs we entered the great hall, Aryenis ran down the stairs to greet us\r\nand ask anxiously what news her father brought, and whether all had\r\ngone well. She was very disturbed when she saw the bloodstained bandage\r\nround his neck, and it took a good deal to reassure her that it was\r\nindeed--as Kyrlos said--only a deep scratch. She insisted on Forsyth\r\ncoming to see it at once, and bandaging it properly then and there.\r\n\r\nAfter we had brushed off the traces of our journey a bit, we had a late\r\nbreakfast, at which Kyrlos announced his intention of riding round the\r\ntown in the afternoon and inspecting the troops and defences. Forsyth\r\nasked if he might accompany them, and Kyrlos said he would be very\r\npleased if he did.\r\n\r\nStephnos and Wrexham had breakfasted before we came, and then ridden\r\nstraight on to visit the fort at Takos, some ten miles north near\r\nthe border. There had been some Shaman activity reported there, and\r\nStephnos, in his capacity of A.D.C. to his father, had gone to get a\r\nreport from the local commander. Wrexham, anxious to see all he could,\r\nhad ridden with him, taking Firoz along, too.\r\n\r\nI was pleased to get a chance of being alone with Aryenis for the\r\nfirst time in the last three days. I asked her what she was going to\r\ndo, and whether she was tired after the morning\xe2\x80\x99s ride, at which she\r\nlaughed, saying it was but a matter of fifteen miles, and she had often\r\nridden twenty-five and thirty with her father when he was visiting the\r\ndistricts. The Blue Sakae chiefs are great believers in the personal\r\ntouch and are always going round the country, a fact which I think\r\ngoes far to enhance their popularity, and ensures that the minor\r\nofficials keep up to their work, and that all and sundry have frequent\r\nopportunities of voicing personally to their chiefs any grievances they\r\nmay have.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWould you like to ride with me this afternoon, Harilek? I go to see\r\nan old man who is a friend of my father\xe2\x80\x99s and very good to me always.\r\nHe is rather an invalid, being partly paralyzed from a wound, and so\r\ncannot come and see us. His house is about four miles out.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI should like to very much, Aryenis. Does he also talk the old Greek?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. Most of the educated people do, so you will not have to sit dumb,\r\nor use me as an interpreter, which is always unpleasant. I will order\r\nthe horses, and if you meet me here in half an hour we will ride out.\r\nYou will be able to see the rest of the city on the way.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI went over to the quarters that had been allotted to us, and put a\r\nnew bandage on my face. It was healing up fast now; luckily the arrows\r\nwere evidently clean, but, as Forsyth had said, it was going to leave a\r\nuseful mark.\r\n\r\nI found Payindah there cleaning up the rifles, and he asked me for some\r\nmoney. I inquired what he wanted it for, so he said he was going out\r\ninto the city with Temra, the old N.C.O.--a sort of sergeant-major--of\r\nKyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s guard, who had ridden with us in the morning.\r\n\r\nAs I gave him the money, I asked if he thought they would take it,\r\nwhereat he laughed, saying he had never yet found a place where good\r\nsilver would not pass, and, anyway, Temra would be with him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow do you talk with Temra, seeing neither of you know the other\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nlanguage?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow did I talk with the people in France?\xe2\x80\x9d he replied. \xe2\x80\x9cBesides, I\r\nknow some words of Temra\xe2\x80\x99s language. Some of it is like bad Pashtu, and\r\nI talk Pashtu a little.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI noted that for Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s information. The mystery of these people was\r\ngrowing. First the upper classes talking Greek, then there being many\r\nChristians among them, and now Payindah informing me that some of the\r\nwords were like bad Pashtu. Evidently we had struck a real ethnological\r\npuzzle.\r\n\r\nI put on my least frayed khaki coat, and beautified myself with my old\r\nregimental tie, which Aryenis had returned. It did not look too bad\r\nwith a very faded shirt that had once been khaki, but was now a sort of\r\napricot.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhere do you go?\xe2\x80\x9d asked Payindah, as he polished up my _chaplis_.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRiding with the princess to see a friend of hers.\xe2\x80\x9d Payindah and Firoz\r\nhad christened Aryenis the \xe2\x80\x9cShahzadi\xe2\x80\x9d (the princess) from the day we\r\nmet her father, and discovered that she was a person of some note in\r\nthe country.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is time you wedded a wife,\xe2\x80\x9d said Payindah, handing me my _chaplis_.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOtherwise there will be no Lake sahibs in the regiment later on when\r\nmy nephew becomes a subadar. Such a one as the Shahzadi, whose eyes are\r\nsteady when they look on death, and who climbs like a markhor, and is,\r\nmoreover, good-looking in the manner of the sahibs, would be a fitting\r\nmother of sons.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDon\xe2\x80\x99t be a blithering ass, Payindah!\xe2\x80\x9d said I, putting on the\r\n_chaplis_. \xe2\x80\x9cGo away with Temra and swagger in the bazaar.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI could see that he had taken some pains to make himself as smart as he\r\ncould. Doubtless it was pleasant to him to observe the women frankly\r\nadmiring him, and telling of his part in saving Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy do the sahibs always get angry when one speaks to them on\r\nmarriage, pretending they have never thought of any such things? Now,\r\namong _my_ people of the Punjab--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBut I was out of the door by then, and did not hear the rest. Typical\r\ntalk of an old sepoy, who considered it his business to tell his sahib\r\nwhat he ought or ought not to do. All the same, I reflected, Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s\r\neyes were very steady when they looked on death. Moreover, they were\r\nexceedingly beautiful--in fact, quite in keeping with the rest of her.\r\nAnd with that reflection I entered the great hall.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVI\r\n\r\nARYENIS AND I VISIT PAULOS\r\n\r\n\r\nAs I entered, Aryenis appeared on the staircase the other side of\r\nthe hall in her riding-dress, and I realized once more the truth of\r\nPayindah\xe2\x80\x99s words. She was extremely good-looking, if such a word can\r\nbe applied fairly to some one who is very beautiful. Yes; she would be\r\njust the sort of wife of whom a man would feel really proud.\r\n\r\nShe looked at me critically and then smiled.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thought that only women were supposed to be vain. Why, O Harilek,\r\nhave you got that coloured thing round your throat? Is this a custom of\r\nyour folk when they go out riding with ladies to see old men? You have\r\nalso got on another coat, not so shabby as the one you usually have. I\r\nthink\xe2\x80\x9d--she looked again--\xe2\x80\x9cit is the one I used to wear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt was, as a matter of fact.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAll the same,\xe2\x80\x9d she went on, \xe2\x80\x9cwhen we get to Miletis you must have new\r\nthings. I think that I will see to it, since men are not to be trusted\r\nto choose their clothes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you, Aryenis,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cYou told us we were not able to feed\r\nourselves. Are we trusted to do anything?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cVery little,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, looking down on me from the height of the\r\nsecond stair. \xe2\x80\x9cNo men are really to be trusted without a woman to look\r\nafter them. Men and babies, they are all the same, except when it comes\r\nto battle, and even then men really want a woman to encourage them and\r\npet them afterwards. Even when men are playing they generally have\r\nto ask a woman to look at them just like children run and call their\r\nmothers to come and see their games. Come here and let me put that\r\nbandage straight for you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat will Forsyth say if you change it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cForsyth did not tie that one, Harilek. Either you or Payindah did it,\r\nand did it very badly.\xe2\x80\x9d She was adjusting it as she spoke, and she\r\ncarefully pushed it to one side to see if the wound was all right; at\r\nleast, that\xe2\x80\x99s what it felt like.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou are branded for the rest of your life, I think, Harilek, so that\r\nyou may never forget the gate. There, that looks better.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t want to forget it, Aryenis. I can remember the gate very well\r\nwithout a scar to help me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe hurriedly changed the subject.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome; the horses wait.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe swung herself into the saddle of her mare before I could help her.\r\nThen, with two mounted archers behind us, we rode out of the gate down\r\ninto the city, and, when we got to the main street we turned up it in\r\nthe opposite direction from the one at which we had come in in the\r\nmorning. We passed through the same crowd of people as we had seen\r\nbefore, and now, when they saw Aryenis, many of them called to her, and\r\nI could see all heads turning our way. Aryenis is a wonder at making\r\nevery one know her, but then you couldn\xe2\x80\x99t help noticing her in the\r\nthickest of crowds.\r\n\r\nShe smiled at those who spoke to her, and passed a word or two with\r\nsome of the shopkeepers who came running out to greet her. We rode\r\nthrough the northern gate, a replica of the one we had entered in the\r\nmorning, out on to a broad highway with gardens on either side.\r\n\r\nAfter going a couple of miles, we struck off to the left, and, riding\r\nup the hillside, followed a narrow track, along which flowed a little\r\nirrigation channel shaded with willows, almond, and silver-barked\r\npoplar. Most of the trees were now shedding their leaves, but in summer\r\nit must have been a very pretty, shady, green lane.\r\n\r\nThe ground on either side was cut up into fields, which evidently drew\r\ntheir water from the irrigation channel, for there were water-cuts and\r\nbanks, and at one place a man was opening a little rough sluice to let\r\nthe water on to the fields at the side.\r\n\r\nAbout us were wooded slopes, and all along the hillsides little\r\nterraced fields, fruit orchards with grey stone walls, scattered little\r\nstone houses, and ricks of straw and hay.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou have a fertile country, Aryenis, and a beautiful one. Look at\r\nthose hills there!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBeyond us long slopes of blue hills, climbing ever higher and higher\r\ntoward the main snow-peak, and between them dim blue shadows, not\r\nunlike my own Sussex country that Kipling sings of:\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cBelt upon belt, the wooded dim\r\n Blue goodness of the weald.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs it not, Harilek? I know no other country save that of the Green\r\nSakae, but I love this more than all I have seen. Is your country like\r\nthis?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy own is just like that part there under the hills. I might almost be\r\nlooking at the landscape round my father\xe2\x80\x99s house at home.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou said your father was dead, or so my father told me. Who, then,\r\nholds his land? Have you an elder brother?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. I had only one brother, and he was killed during the war I spoke\r\nof. My sister, whose husband was also killed in the same war, lives\r\nthere now while I am away.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd you will go back some day, I suppose, and settle?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps. When I grow too old to wander. But I shall not hurry back\r\nyet. I want to learn about your country first, and that will take a\r\nlong time, I think.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut does not your sister want you to come back and settle down\r\nand--look after the land?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe has not said so, much. She has her two sons, one of whom is\r\nfifteen now, and presently he will be old enough to manage things if I\r\nam away. Not that she wants any help really\xe2\x80\x9d--and I smiled as I thought\r\nof Ethel\xe2\x80\x99s masterful nature requiring any one to help her. \xe2\x80\x9cShe has\r\nspent most of her life looking after my father, myself, my brother, and\r\nevery one and everything else she has ever met,\xe2\x80\x9d I explained. \xe2\x80\x9cI do not\r\nthink she wants much help. Like you, she thinks all men are babies.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo they are,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis defiantly. \xe2\x80\x9cMen never grow up, except\r\nwhen they go bad. Nice men never grow up, not properly, although they\r\npretend to, and put on airs and speak gravely; feign to talk important\r\nsecrets when we women aren\xe2\x80\x99t there, and turn us out of council\r\nmeetings; try to look impressive, and puff and blow if you ask them\r\nanything. But it\xe2\x80\x99s all make-believe. In the things that really matter a\r\nman of fifty is no wiser than a boy of fifteen.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat things?\xe2\x80\x9d said I, honestly seeking for knowledge.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, lots of things, real ones; not playthings like bows or new ways\r\nof feathering arrows, or new kinds of bits for horses, with which men\r\nfill their heads and for which they invent weird new names that no one\r\nunderstands to make them sound important. But when it comes to the real\r\nthings of life, they\xe2\x80\x99re babies, just babies.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe flicked her mare with her switch as if she were endeavouring to\r\ndrive knowledge into the heads of those undeveloped infantile beings,\r\nthe nice members of the male sex.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut you haven\xe2\x80\x99t made it clear what are the really important things,\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\npersisted.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI couldn\xe2\x80\x99t make it clear, because, if I did you wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t understand\r\nthem, being a man.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd hence a babe, I suppose?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCertainly, a babe. Oh, undoubtedly a babe.\xe2\x80\x9d Then, completely off the\r\npoint, \xe2\x80\x9cDo you know, Harilek, you haven\xe2\x80\x99t asked after my shoulder for\r\ntwo days?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m so sorry; how is it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs a matter of fact I had asked Forsyth twice daily on the point, and\r\nknew that it was practically healed up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s getting better, and the doctor thinks it won\xe2\x80\x99t leave a mark.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s good. Now a babe would probably prefer to have a mark.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, exactly; so that he could show it to people and talk about it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd a woman, being grown up, would be much better pleased not to\r\nhave a mark that might spoil the look of her shoulder. I begin to\r\nunderstand the important things of life, Aryenis, \xe2\x80\x98the things that\r\nreally matter.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think you\xe2\x80\x99re trying to be rude. But my shoulder does matter.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s just what I said. I think any one\xe2\x80\x99s shoulder would matter, and\r\ncertainly yours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd why mine, certainly?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause it\xe2\x80\x99s the nicest one I\xe2\x80\x99ve ever seen.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhereupon she blushed and hastily proceeded to point out her friend\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhouse, which was just coming into sight round the bend in front. Then\r\nshe put her mare into a canter, and we came up to the gate in a cloud\r\nof dust.\r\n\r\nIt was a long, low, stone house of two storeys, with little windows\r\nabove like attics. The garden was very charming with its patterned\r\nflower-beds, its big chenar trees copper and gold in their October\r\nleaf, and the flagged stone walks in the grass. Evidently the owner was\r\na man of taste.\r\n\r\nAs we rode in, servants ran out, and, when they saw who it was, they\r\nclustered round excitedly and kissed Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s hand. They had only\r\nheard of her escape the evening before.\r\n\r\nWe dismounted and passed through the house into a walled garden behind,\r\nscented with late roses and gay with autumn flowers, where we found an\r\nold man, clean-shaven and fragile-looking, lying on a couch with rugs\r\nover his legs. Aryenis ran up to him and kissed him on both cheeks. It\r\nwas evident that they were very fond of each other. She talked to him a\r\nminute, and then she turned round and presented me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo this is the young man that brought you back, is it, Aryenis?\xe2\x80\x9d said\r\nhe in Greek, holding out both his hands to me.\r\n\r\nThen he looked me up and down, and it seemed that I passed muster.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStephnos rode this way not so long ago, bringing with him another\r\nstranger. They were hurrying, but he stopped a minute to tell me the\r\nnews. God is very good to send you back safe to your friends, child.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStephnos tells me that you come from a far country, but that you speak\r\nthe old tongue? It makes it even clearer than before to an old man that\r\nthere is no chance in the world. All is intended.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen, looking at my face, he went on:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI see you have been wounded, or so I presume. Was that got while you\r\nrescued Aryenis?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was, sir. But \xe2\x80\x99tis only a scratch. But Aryenis says it will leave a\r\nmark, whereas the one she got on her shoulder will not leave any, which\r\nis important.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis interrupted:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe is teasing me because I told him men were babes, uncle mine\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n(Aryenis called him uncle, although he was actually only a very distant\r\ncousin of her father\xe2\x80\x99s), \xe2\x80\x9cand when they got scars liked people to see\r\nthem, whereas women--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhereas women--especially pretty ones--would be greatly concerned if\r\nthey got any scars that might show at all. I understand, Aryenis.\xe2\x80\x9d He\r\nsmiled at her.\r\n\r\nServants brought us carved chairs, but Aryenis insisted on sitting on\r\nthe couch by the old man.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBe seated, sir,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cI would hear how you saved Aryenis, only\r\nI would hear it from her lips since I shall thus get somewhat more of\r\nthe truth. I understand that you have been a soldier, and soldiers are\r\nnotoriously bad at telling the real facts about themselves in such\r\nmatters.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo she gave him a flowery version of her rescue, with italics in most\r\nplaces concerning the part I had played, and minor italics for Payindah\r\nnow and then. After that she gave him a very accurate description of\r\nour camels and our camp. Very little misses Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x99Twas well done, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d he said at last. \xe2\x80\x9cI do not know whether\r\nAryenis is the more fortunate in being rescued by you, or you the more\r\nfortunate in being able to rescue her. When I was a young man I dreamed\r\nof such things as that, but they did not come my way.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c_I_ have no doubt whatever, sir. The good fortune was entirely on my\r\nside.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd Aryenis says that you slew the Shamans with new weapons, such as\r\nhave not been heard of in our country. Have you them with you? I was a\r\nlover of weapons ere misfortune tied me to this couch.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI pulled out my pistol, unloaded it, and placed it in the old man\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhand, explaining roughly the way it worked as I showed him the\r\ncartridges.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWonderful,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cThat little thing which you say is as the\r\nminiature of our fort catapults will send those tiny bolts right\r\nthrough a mail-coat and through the man inside. And your man who slew\r\nthe others, was he armed with this?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. We have bigger ones that slay much farther; indeed, if you have\r\neyes that are keen enough to point them straight, they will slay at\r\nover a mile. This is the dagger of which the other is the long spear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWonderful! Wonderful! Man has yet much to discover.\xe2\x80\x9d He handed me back\r\nthe pistol, watching me reload it, and put it back in its holster.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStay you long in our country? If so you must come and see me again.\r\nAryenis knows the way well enough. She has played here since she was a\r\nchild.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI know not. But we stay for the war, and until that finishes in your\r\nfavour we shall not leave.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I think you will stay some while. This will be a long and cruel\r\nwar. Why do you stay for a war which is not your affair?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe stay because it is the matter of Aryenis and of her people, and\r\nsince she was our guest we consider it in some sort as our business,\r\ntoo. Besides, we like not such of the ways of the Shamans as we have\r\nseen.\xe2\x80\x9d I told him of the morning\xe2\x80\x99s episode, and Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s narrow escape.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe Shamans grow bold to practise open treachery like that. They must\r\nhold the other clans in thrall like dogs. Ten years ago, had such a\r\nthing been done, the whole of the clans would have turned on them.\xe2\x80\x9d He\r\nstopped; then continued:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou speak as I would have spoken when I was your age and a whole man.\r\nBut not all men would consider that the war was their affair because\r\nthey had saved Aryenis. Rather would they incline to say they had done\r\ntheir part and somewhat over. I think that all the fortune was not with\r\nyou; some large portion goes to Aryenis.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo also think I,\xe2\x80\x9d said she. \xe2\x80\x9cLife is sweet, but when with the gift of\r\nlife one gets the gift of friends as well, then is one doubly blest.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTrue, child. You seem to have had both given to you in the gate\xe2\x80\x9d--and\r\nhe was silent a space.\r\n\r\nThen he clapped his hands, and a servant brought us out wine and sweet\r\ncakes on little silver trays. We talked awhile, and he asked many\r\nquestions about the countries we came from. He was well read, and told\r\nme that he had some old manuscripts which he would show me one day. He\r\nknew the classics, Arrian and Herodotus amongst them, and could follow\r\na little about India when I tried to explain our journey to him.\r\n\r\nThen Aryenis went into the house to see the old servants, and he and I\r\nwere left alone. He looked after her as she walked across the lawn.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAryenis is just like her mother--I sometimes think she is her mother\r\nwhen she comes here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHer mother is dead, is she not?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, many years ago. And yet it seems but yesterday that she sat here\r\nas Aryenis does now. She and Kyrlos often came to see me.\xe2\x80\x9d He sighed a\r\nlittle.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd to-morrow you ride to Miletis. When things are settled you will\r\ncome and see me again, will you not? \xe2\x80\x99Tis nice to see one who has seen\r\nplaces that I have read of, but none I know have ever seen.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSurely,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou are Christians also, Aryenis tells me. She wrote me a letter which\r\ncame by a fast messenger yesterday. Your faith was a matter of some\r\nsurprise, since we believed that most of those who lived beyond the\r\ndesert were pagans.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe are. All the countries around us, even the old Greece, are\r\nChristian now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. That, of course, I knew. But we had no idea you came from so far,\r\nthinking rather you came from the nearer lands which were overrun by\r\nthe slant-eyed folk, who--so our old books tell us--drove our people\r\nout across the desert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI should like to see those old books when we have time. We wondered\r\nwhence came your folk. Are you Greeks?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, or so the books tell us. But there were some Greeks who came among\r\nus, bringing with them much knowledge of the arts, and, above all, of\r\nthe true faith. It is a long story that I shall be pleased to tell you\r\none day. But Aryenis comes, and you must ride. One should not be abroad\r\nafter dark in time of war. We are not over-distant from the frontier\r\neven here, though it is many years since raiders came as far as Aornos.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis joined us and said that we must go. The horses waited saddled.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood-bye, uncle mine. All will be ready, will it not?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt will, child. I see that you were right--as ever--in what you wrote.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he said good-bye, and we went out to the horses.\r\n\r\nRiding back I asked Aryenis to tell me Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s history.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe was a great friend of my father\xe2\x80\x99s, and they both loved my mother.\r\nBut she preferred father, and not long after they were married there\r\nwas a raid on the border. My father went out with his men, and Paulos,\r\nwho was then commanding one of the forts, went, too, with some of his.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere was a fight, and father was beaten down and like to lose his\r\nlife, being surrounded by the enemy. Paulos, seeing his danger, leapt\r\nin, holding off the enemy until more of his men came up; but while\r\ndoing so he received a spear thrust in the back.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAt the time it was hoped it would be nothing but a simple wound, but\r\nin some way it damaged his legs, which gradually withered so that he\r\nlost nearly all power in them. Since then he has been a cripple tied to\r\nhis couch.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe must have suffered much, for father says he was a fine rider and\r\none keen on all kinds of sport, an active man, and a brave soldier.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe never married, and lives alone there on his lands with his books,\r\nfor he is a studious man, or became so when he could no longer take an\r\nactive part in life.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFather goes often to see him, for they were always like brothers,\r\nand mother held him in great affection. He treats me as his daughter,\r\nhaving no children of his own, and every year I go and spend some weeks\r\nwith him. He is a lovable person to live with, and I have never heard\r\nhim complain of his troubles, though it must be hard to lie there year\r\nafter year unable to move without the help of a servant.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt must be a hard life for one who has been active in his day. But he\r\nis fortunate in loving his books.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; but he loves life, too, and is always interested in all who come\r\nto see him and in their affairs, so that he keeps in life as it were\r\nthrough others. He often says to me that as he cannot live himself he\r\ntastes life through other people\xe2\x80\x99s senses. You like him, do you not?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIndeed, I think one could not help liking him. It is wonderful how\r\nhe keeps his interest in things where other men would become just\r\nquerulous invalids.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe dusk was coming on as we reached the city gates and rode up the\r\nwinding street into the citadel. The shops were all alight with little\r\ntwinkling oil-lamps, where late passers-by were making their last\r\npurchases.\r\n\r\nWhen we got in, we found Kyrlos and Torka sitting alone in the great\r\nhall. The others were evidently not back. Kyrlos asked after Paulos,\r\nand said he hoped to find time to see him on the way to Miletis the\r\nnext day.\r\n\r\nForsyth came in presently, and we waited for a while, sitting over the\r\nfire, for the evenings were very chilly. But they did not come, so\r\nfinally we started our evening meal. In the middle of it a messenger\r\narrived from Stephnos, saying that there were reports of an enemy raid\r\nexpected, and that they were stopping to see if anything occurred\r\nduring the night, and would join us next day at Miletis.\r\n\r\nTorka\xe2\x80\x99s wife was away, and Kyrlos had asked him not to have any one\r\nin to supper, as he wished for a quiet evening, since there would be\r\nmuch to do for the next few days. Also he would be glad to get to bed\r\nearly and rest his neck, which was getting stiff. Forsyth sent him off\r\nshortly after we had had supper, and went with him to bandage up his\r\nwound again. Torka went to see about the arrangements for the next day,\r\nand Aryenis and I were left alone sitting over the fire in the hall.\r\n\r\nWe were neither of us very talkative. She was leaning forward, one\r\nshapely arm propping her chin, gazing into the glowing logs, and I was,\r\nI think, gazing at her, with the firelight glinting on her wonderful\r\nhair. Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s words kept on coming back to me, and I could not help\r\nthinking what a very alluring prospect a vista of evenings with some\r\none like Aryenis sitting by the fire would be, especially if the some\r\none were one\xe2\x80\x99s own Aryenis, and the firelight came from one\xe2\x80\x99s own\r\nfireside.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou are silent, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d she said at last, turning her head.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo also are you, Aryenis. What were you looking at in the fire?\r\nPictures like the children look for in the winter evenings?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps. It is pleasant to sit by the fire, seeing pictures of things\r\nthat might be: fairy stories such as we used to be told, of enchanted\r\ncastles and dragons, and things like that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou forget the fairy princess with the red-gold locks, Aryenis. There\r\nis always one of them in the stories, isn\xe2\x80\x99t there?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo all fairy princesses have red-gold locks?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t know about all, but some of them do. The one in my story did.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat story is that?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, only one I was making up while you were looking into the fire.\r\nWonderful red-gold locks, and hazel-grey eyes, steady, clear ones,\r\nand--no marks on her shoulders.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s mean, Harilek. I shan\xe2\x80\x99t tell you my story now if you\xe2\x80\x99re going\r\nto laugh at me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wasn\xe2\x80\x99t laughing at you. I\xe2\x80\x99m glad there isn\xe2\x80\x99t going to be a mark.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut there will be really, only it\xe2\x80\x99ll be so small that none will see it\r\nunless they know where to look for it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat makes the story all the better. Princess with small mark on\r\nshoulder, that only the fairy prince who knows about it is able to\r\nfind. Then, when he goes to look for the princess when she gets\r\nlost--they always get lost--he has to keep an eye on shoulders all the\r\ntime. I\xe2\x80\x99m afraid all the princesses in that story would have to wear\r\nvery low-necked clothes or he\xe2\x80\x99d never get to the end of his search.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd how does the princess know the prince? Does he have fairy marks?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, he\xe2\x80\x99d have wiggly ones where the dragon\xe2\x80\x99s claws scratched him.\r\nPurple scratches, probably, and a tooth-mark or two down one arm.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t believe that\xe2\x80\x99s right. Fairy princes don\xe2\x80\x99t get bitten by\r\ndragons. They always kill them first with wonderful shiny swords the\r\ncolour of that blue flame there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, this would have to be a special kind of prince with wiggly\r\npurple marks.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. I think he would have just the same kind of mark as the princess,\r\na small one big enough to see, but not too ugly--on his face, perhaps.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I might be able to be a fairy prince, mightn\xe2\x80\x99t I, since Forsyth\r\nsays I shall have a mark across my face that every one will be able to\r\nsee, all right?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou might--if you found a fairy princess of the right kind and didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\ngrow up too much.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe looked back into the fire and was silent again, the dancing\r\nfirelight playing across the long curve of her neck and chasing little\r\nshadows over the rose of her cheeks, faintly flushed in the glow.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you know what Payindah and Firoz call you now, Aryenis?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked\r\nafter a while.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo? What is it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98Shahzadi,\xe2\x80\x99 which in their language means \xe2\x80\x98Princess.\xe2\x80\x99 I think they\r\nmust be observant folk.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat is rather nice of them. I like that title. I feel like one\r\nsometimes when there are dragons about, and a fairy prince would be\r\nuseful.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEver seen the fairy prince come along?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe looked back into the fire and pondered quite a long time. Then she\r\nsaid slowly:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think I did once, though I\xe2\x80\x99m not quite sure. Only he hadn\xe2\x80\x99t got any\r\npurple marks, not even quite a little one, on his face.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd there were dragons?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis shivered. \xe2\x80\x9cLots!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd did the prince kill them, all right?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, quite dead.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then he and the princess would live happily ever after? That\xe2\x80\x99s the\r\nproper ending, isn\xe2\x80\x99t it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt\xe2\x80\x99s the proper ending--in a fairy story.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe got up slowly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTo-morrow you\xe2\x80\x99re going to take me to see Uncle Paulos again on the way\r\nto Miletis. Father is coming later; he\xe2\x80\x99s got things to do here, so he\r\nsays that we are to ride on ahead, and I want to go to Uncle Paulos.\r\nIt\xe2\x80\x99s only a little way off the road.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI should like to go there again very much. I like your Uncle Paulos.\r\nHe might have been a fairy prince easily.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis; \xe2\x80\x9che plays another part.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s that?\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFairy godfather generally. Now I\xe2\x80\x99m going to see if father\xe2\x80\x99s properly\r\ntied up. Don\xe2\x80\x99t forget that we start early. Good-night, Harilek.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood-night--Shahzadi.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs I went to my room I wondered who Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s fairy prince, or the one\r\nwho might be a fairy prince, was. I felt I should hate the sight of him\r\npretty usefully when I did run into him. And the blighter had no marks,\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cnot even a little one,\xe2\x80\x9d while I was marked with a very usefully\r\npuckered cheek.\r\n\r\nI found Forsyth in bed, smoking the last of his cigarettes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo more tobacco after to-night. D----!\xe2\x80\x9d said he. \xe2\x80\x9cI wonder if there\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nlikely to be any wild tobacco growing in this country?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMay be, but I doubt it. We\xe2\x80\x99ve got a little tea left, I think, if you\xe2\x80\x99d\r\nlike that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, we haven\xe2\x80\x99t. I gave the lot to Aryenis, who\xe2\x80\x99s taken rather a fancy\r\nto the new drug. I think she\xe2\x80\x99s saving it up for Christmas or something.\r\nBesides tea\xe2\x80\x99s filth, though I have smoked it in a pipe upon occasions.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhile I was undressing, I told him what Paulos had said about his\r\npeople having been driven across the desert by the slant-eyed folk in\r\nthe dim ages.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYe gods!\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth, sitting up. \xe2\x80\x9cThe green-eyed Wusuns, of course!\r\nWhat a mug I was not to think of that at first.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWho the blazes are the green-eyed Wusuns?\xe2\x80\x9d said I, getting into bed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cReal, original, white-skinned Nordic folk, same family as the Danes\r\nand Norsemen, and all the crowd that made up the true white races of\r\nEurope in the early centuries. They were here in the first century\r\nB.C., when the Chinese were scrapping with them. You read about it in\r\nthe old Chinese books. Only they disappeared, and most people think\r\nthey either got pushed westward or wiped out. This lot evidently got\r\nwashed up here somehow or other, and have been cut off by the desert\r\never since.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98Wusun\xe2\x80\x99 was their Tartar name, and it means \xe2\x80\x98the tall ones\xe2\x80\x99; and,\r\nbarring that they were tall and white and had \xe2\x80\x98green\xe2\x80\x99 eyes, which, of\r\ncourse, includes grey and blue and all the shades in between, we know\r\nnothing of them. But here they are, white, Aryan speech, fair hair,\r\ngrey, green, and blue eyes, and tall, as we\xe2\x80\x99ve noticed. What a find!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd that explains Aryenis and the various village women we\xe2\x80\x99ve seen. I\r\nthought they didn\xe2\x80\x99t look like the kind of Greeks I\xe2\x80\x99ve met.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy dear man, the Wusuns are your first cousins, same as the Saxons,\r\nand the Danes, and the Normans, who were practically pure Nordic. The\r\npresent Greek date from a long time before that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI had some difficulty in getting to sleep with Forsyth raving about his\r\nlost Nordics and Wusuns. It was all very interesting, but I was far\r\nmore interested in wondering who Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s fairy prince was, and hoping\r\nhe would fall over the cliff or get eaten by dragons or something. No,\r\nI didn\xe2\x80\x99t really, since Aryenis might want him. I almost came round to a\r\nmore charitable frame of mind, and hoped he would be a proper kind of\r\nfairy prince and not a make-believe. But I fell asleep, feeling very\r\nsore about the blighter. Then I got chased by a dragon that got mixed\r\nup with a fairy prince, and Aryenis came in in the middle and said he\r\nwasn\xe2\x80\x99t a real one, and where were the wiggly marks? Then I fell down\r\na precipice myself, and was unconscious: came to in the middle of an\r\nearthquake, and opened my eyes to find Payindah shaking me because it\r\nwas time to get up.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVII\r\n\r\nARYENIS\xe2\x80\x99S HOME-COMING\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen I got into the dining-hall I found every one at breakfast. Aryenis\r\nsaid good-morning very nicely and politely, but made no reference to\r\ndragons and fairy princes.\r\n\r\nKyrlos asked Forsyth to keep him company during the day. He was going\r\nto see some of the chief men of the district, and would ride on to\r\nMiletis in the afternoon, probably arriving latish. Aryenis and I were\r\nto go with the baggage by the main road.\r\n\r\nAfter expounding all this Kyrlos and Forsyth, with Torka in attendance,\r\nwent off, and Aryenis and I went out to find our horses waiting. The\r\nbaggage animals had already started, and we passed them near the north\r\ngate, Payindah, very debonair on a pony, riding with Temra at the head.\r\n\r\nIt was colder that morning. There was a fresh breeze blowing, and\r\nlittle wisps of cloud that cleared later in the day. But the cold\r\nsuited Aryenis, as it does all really fair people, and the wind whipped\r\nthe colour to her cheeks, and made her eyes sparkle over the big collar\r\nof her fur-lined riding-coat.\r\n\r\nWe rode leisurely along the road and took the turning to Uncle\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s, our escort clattering behind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou haven\xe2\x80\x99t told me what we\xe2\x80\x99ve come for,\xe2\x80\x9d I said. \xe2\x80\x9cYou didn\xe2\x80\x99t say\r\nanything about it yesterday when we left. Is it a surprise visit to\r\nyour fairy godfather?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. It\xe2\x80\x99s a surprise we--he\xe2\x80\x99s got for you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFor me! Why, he only saw me for the first time yesterday.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut that doesn\xe2\x80\x99t matter to fairy godfathers, does it, how many times\r\nthey\xe2\x80\x99ve seen people?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe went on:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI do hope you\xe2\x80\x99ll like what he\xe2\x80\x99s got for you. It\xe2\x80\x99s something just to\r\ntell you that he\xe2\x80\x99s glad you\xe2\x80\x99ve brought me back. You see, he\xe2\x80\x99s very fond\r\nof me really.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I\xe2\x80\x99m sure I\xe2\x80\x99ll like it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe rode in among the trees up to the house and went into the hall,\r\nwhere a fire was burning, and found Paulos sitting on his couch. It was\r\ntoo cold as yet for the lawn. The hall was a big place with one or two\r\nbits of really good statuary, showing distinct tracing of Greek craft;\r\nsome trophies of arms on the panelled wall, and some skins of beasts on\r\nthe dark wooden floor. There were bears still in the upper valleys in\r\nSakaeland, and a certain number of spotted deer on the lower hills.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLooking more than ever like the morning, Aryenis,\xe2\x80\x9d said he as she\r\nkissed him. \xe2\x80\x9cThe winter always suits you best. You\xe2\x80\x99ve just the skin and\r\nhair for furs, child. Now take your cloak off and sit down by the fire\r\nwhile I tell Harilek what you\xe2\x80\x99ve got for him.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat _you\xe2\x80\x99ve_ got, uncle mine,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis hurriedly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI grow old and careless in my speech. I mean what I\xe2\x80\x99ve got.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek, do you wear mail in your country?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot now. Our people used to, but when the noise weapons, as you call\r\nthem, came in, folk gave up mail, because it was weight for no purpose,\r\nsince the balls I showed you yesterday pierce it. But in this last war\r\nwe took to wearing helmets of steel once again, and found some profit\r\nin them, since sometimes the balls glanced off.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI wasn\xe2\x80\x99t capable of explaining in archaic Greek the difference between\r\nhigh-velocity rifle-bullets and low-velocity shrapnel, and even if I\r\nhad been it would have taken a long time to explain that to a man who\xe2\x80\x99d\r\nnever seen either gun or rifle.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, now you go to a war where the enemy have no such weapons, only\r\narrows, swords, and the like. Therefore mail will be of use to you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was only thinking that yesterday when Kyrlos made me put on a mail\r\njerkin,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou and I are about the same size, Harilek, or rather, you are the\r\nsize I was before I became a cripple, and I have my old mail still\r\nby me. It is well kept, and, moreover, it is specially good, for, as\r\nI told you yesterday, I was once a lover of weapons and studied them\r\ndeeply. We Sakae take great pride in our arms, handing them down from\r\nfather to son.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut I have no son, and I have long pondered to whom I should leave my\r\nwar-gear when I die, for I have no relatives left save only Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nfather. I hoped that some day she might bring a son here to whom it\r\nmight pass. But I should be over-old by then, and I would like to see\r\nsome good soldier wear it before I die.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, but for you, Aryenis would not be here to-day, and I should be\r\nstill lonelier. So I would like you very much, if you will humour\r\nan old man, to take my mail and weapons and give me the pleasure of\r\nseeing a brave man wear them once more, more especially one to whom I\r\nowe a great deal, and Aryenis, who is to me as a daughter, owes more.\r\nShe also wishes it, so that when you go into battle you may have some\r\nmemento of her gratitude. \xe2\x80\x99Twill be a gift from us both, since all I\r\nhave is hers.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI thought it was nice of the old man to put it as he did, and from what\r\nI knew of and about him it seemed to me a good mantle to assume.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thank you very much, Paulos. I shall be more than pleased to wear\r\nyour mail and use your weapons. Aryenis told me something about you\r\nyesterday, and nothing would please me better than such a gift from you\r\nboth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI hoped you would accept. And making the wish father to the thought,\r\nAryenis got you garments yesterday in Aornos that they might be ready\r\nfor you here to-day. Thus I shall have the pleasure of seeing you in my\r\nharness before you ride on. She will show you the way.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis led me to a room off the main hall, where a servant was\r\nwaiting.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou will find the clothes in there, and when you have changed, come\r\nback here and we will show you the mail.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo you did choose my clothes, after all, Aryenis, being grown up!\r\nThank you,\xe2\x80\x9d said I as I entered the room.\r\n\r\nThe servant, a hatchet-faced old archer who had followed Paulos, helped\r\nme put on the new clothes that were laid out, and very comfortable I\r\nfound them. The under-garments were of softest linen, and over those\r\nwere a wadded vest and fleece-lined leather jerkin, with long loose\r\ntrousers gartered from ankle to knee with plaited leather straps.\r\n\r\nWhen I had put them on, with the new sandals, not unlike _chaplis_,\r\nbut more elaborate, I went back to the hall, where I found Aryenis and\r\nPaulos looking over a set of mail and weapons which had not been there\r\nwhen I left.\r\n\r\nAryenis examined me with a critical eye. \xe2\x80\x9cThey fit nicely, Harilek; do\r\nthey not?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI admitted they did.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat is the advantage of having a woman to choose them for you, you\r\nsee. Had you got them yourself, you would not have looked so well.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPaulos examined the clothes carefully.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou have a good eye, child. They fit well. But that sleeve is not\r\nright; the under-sleeve is tucked up, I think.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis looked at it. \xe2\x80\x9cYes. I will put it right. Hold out your hand,\r\nHarilek.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI held out my arm, and undoing the wrist she pushed back the leather to\r\npull the fleece under-sleeve into place. Then she stood staring at my\r\narm.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek! You were making up things last night. You\xe2\x80\x99ve got all the\r\nwiggly purple marks.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked at my arm. Sure enough, I\xe2\x80\x99d forgotten those scars right across\r\nmy forearm from two bullet wounds that had gone septic.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTrue, Shahzadi; but remember you said that the fairy prince--the one\r\nyou mentioned at the end--who killed all the dragons had no marks, \xe2\x80\x98not\r\neven a little one on his face.\xe2\x80\x99 I\xe2\x80\x99ve got several of them, including a\r\nlong red one on my cheek under this bandage. So we shall have to make\r\nanother story to fit in with these marks.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe did up my sleeve without a word.\r\n\r\nPaulos looked at us inquiringly. \xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s the story of the wiggly marks?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe were telling fairy stories by the fire last night about dragons\r\nand things. And I said that dragons\xe2\x80\x99 claws made wiggly purple marks,\r\nand I forgot that I had some on my arm, only not from dragons--wounds\r\nfrom war--and Aryenis saw them just now. So I suppose she thought I had\r\nreally been fighting dragons, and was surprised.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI thought that was neatly out of it, and hoped Aryenis did, too.\r\n\r\nPaulos held up a mail shirt, a lovely thing, long sleeves ending in\r\nmittens with slit wrists, so that you could have your hands bare if you\r\nwanted to, woven in alternate rows of black and silvered steel that\r\nshimmered in the light.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe have an old custom in this country, Harilek, that, when a man first\r\nputs on his mail and girds on his weapons for war, it is done for him\r\nby a woman of his house. But you are a stranger in a far land, and have\r\nno womenkind here. Therefore Aryenis will do proxy for them if you are\r\nwilling. If you wear my mail I should like to see you don it in our old\r\nformal fashion.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI could but agree, so Aryenis passed the mail shirt over my head, and\r\nhelped me adjust it in place. It came about halfway to my knees, and\r\nwas very light. I had expected something heavier.\r\n\r\nThen Paulos gave her a belt of linked silver plates chased and\r\nenamelled with little patterns, the centre one a cross, which she\r\ngirded round my waist.\r\n\r\nThen he handed her the short sword-sheath to fasten on, and last the\r\nsword, which she gave me hilt first. It was a most beautiful bit\r\nof armourer\xe2\x80\x99s work, with the queer filigree inlays in the steel: a\r\ntwo-foot double-edged blade ribbed down both sides with treble grooves\r\nto within two inches of the point, and a hilt of chiselled silver with\r\nlittle turquoise studs let in irregularly.\r\n\r\nI sheathed it, and then she handed me my pistol-holster, which I\r\nstrapped on to the under-leather of the belt.\r\n\r\nIt was a very grave-eyed Aryenis that helped me on with all this\r\nparaphernalia of war, quite a different person from the dancing-eyed\r\ngirl who had chaffed me the day before about not being grown up,\r\ndifferent again from the dreamy one who had sat looking into the fire\r\ntalking of dragons and fairy princesses. But then that is the charm of\r\nAryenis, that she is ever different and yet always the same.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey fit you well and they suit you, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d said Paulos. \xe2\x80\x9cIt does\r\nme good to see them out again. I feel the younger for it. We old folk\r\nlive our lives again in you young people. Now for the helmet and then\r\nyou are complete, for I will not give you the long bow, which, I\r\nunderstand, you cannot use, nor indeed do you need it, having your own\r\nweapons.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis took up the steel cap, with its pointed centre and the low\r\nsweeping brim that covered all the back of the head round to the\r\ntemples on either side. It was of bright polished steel, with a thin\r\nfiligree pattern of silver beaten in all round above the rim. In front\r\nwas an embossed silver plate fixed to the steel with two little sockets\r\nin it and a ring. Reaching up with both hands, she put it on my head,\r\npulled up the chin-strap, and stepped back to see the effect.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey fit as though made for him, uncle; don\xe2\x80\x99t they?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey do. I thought that we were of a size. Now, Harilek, you will be\r\nable to go out to this war of our people armed after their own fashion.\r\nYou take with you, along with an old man\xe2\x80\x99s armour, an old man\xe2\x80\x99s prayers\r\nfor your safety and his wishes for your good fortune. And also I\r\nknow\xe2\x80\x9d--he turned to Aryenis--\xe2\x80\x9cthe prayers and wishes of the lady who\r\narmed you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd the most heartfelt gratitude as well, Harilek. God keep you safe\r\neven as you saved me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI thanked them as best I could, rather stammeringly, I think.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow we will drink to the good fortune of my old arms on Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nsaid Paulos, clapping his hands. Whereupon the old hatchet-faced man\r\nbrought us in wine of Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s best, and they drank to me. The old\r\narcher also drank and said a few words, which Aryenis translated as\r\nmeaning to say that I looked a proper kind of soldier, and that he\r\nhoped I would carry the arms as worthily as his master had done. I\r\nthink there was an old family-retainer spice of doubt in his mind on\r\nthe point.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd now we must ride,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, putting on her cloak. \xe2\x80\x9cI want to\r\nget to Miletis early to-day and see every one. It\xe2\x80\x99s too wonderful to be\r\ngetting home after thinking I had seen the last of it all. Good-bye,\r\nuncle mine, and thank you for everything.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood-bye, child,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, kissing her. \xe2\x80\x9cCome and see me when the men\r\nride away, and when this young man comes back, bring him, too, that I\r\nmay hear how he has carried my arms. Good-bye, Harilek, and all good\r\nfortune mark your days. Remember that the Brown Sakae strike low, ever,\r\nupward from the knee.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe gave me his hand, and then Aryenis and I went out to the horses, the\r\nstatuesque old man, with his grim scarred retainer standing behind him,\r\nwatching us as we went.\r\n\r\nOur escort apparently knew what to expect, for they evinced no surprise\r\nat my new rig-out, and one of them carried a package behind his saddle,\r\nwhich I guessed was my old clothes. But as I came down the steps they\r\nall touched their steel caps in salute to my new arms and to me wearing\r\nthem, as is the custom of the Sakae when men don mail for the first\r\ntime, and spoke to me, wishing me, as Aryenis translated, good fortune\r\nand high honour in war.\r\n\r\nConsidering we were complete strangers not knowing their tongue, and\r\ncome in from Heaven alone knows where, I must say the Sakae were\r\nextraordinarily friendly. Never did we meet with a trace of enmity\r\nor jealousy among all Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s people. This I attribute to Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nimpossibly exaggerated account of our doings in the gate, for the Sakae\r\nconsider personal valour as the greatest of passports to position.\r\nMoney they count not at all, and birth but little; while they have but\r\nsmall respect even for an hereditary chief until he has proven himself\r\na man. But once a man has shown that his courage is beyond reproach,\r\nthen they will follow him through thick and thin, and--if he be just\r\nand impartial--abide by his rule in peace if he be set over them,\r\nalthough they prefer to be ruled by those of good birth, considering\r\nsuch as more likely to deal impartial justice.\r\n\r\nThey drank to me from goblets of wine sent out by Paulos, and Aryenis\r\nmade them a little speech on my behalf, which they seemed to approve.\r\nThen we mounted our horses, rode out of the grounds, and set our faces\r\ntoward Miletis.\r\n\r\nRiding down the lane, Aryenis pointed out to me the long stretch of\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s land, which ran all along the hill for several miles, and down\r\nbelow into the broad valley.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSome day, when we\xe2\x80\x99ve more time, I\xe2\x80\x99ll show you over it. There are some\r\nlovely bits up there among the woods.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nFrom the road on this day of cloud-flecked blue sky, with the autumn\r\nsunshine and the fresh cool breeze in our faces, it looked very\r\nbeautiful, although many of the trees were nearly bare. In summer\r\nit must have been perfectly lovely, as Aryenis said, and even now\r\nthe splashes of russet and crimson among the barer trees made a very\r\ngorgeous contrast to the more sombre pines.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was very kind of you, Aryenis, to think of this handsome gift. It\r\nreally was a surprise, and one that I appreciated tremendously.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA gift for a gift,\xe2\x80\x9d said she. \xe2\x80\x9cBut ours is only a little one, whereas\r\nyours to me is the greatest that man or woman can give and beyond all\r\nrepayment. But we hoped that perchance some day in battle our gift\r\nmight give you life as you gave me, and so indirectly we would repay\r\nlike with like. I\xe2\x80\x99m so glad you\xe2\x80\x99re pleased.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou say \xe2\x80\x98the greatest gift man or woman can give,\xe2\x80\x99 Aryenis. Could any\r\none else give a greater--a fairy prince, for instance?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis looked out over her horse\xe2\x80\x99s ears. Then, rather reflectively:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA fairy prince or a fairy princess might give something bigger. Yes;\r\nif they were the right ones with the right marks, something much\r\nbigger, because it would mean not only life, but lots and lots more.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wish I were a fairy prince, then. I should like to give such a gift\r\nas you speak of.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps you will be some day--when you meet the princess--or--when you\r\n_know_ she is the princess.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen I\xe2\x80\x99ve seen the mark on her shoulder, for instance?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis reflected again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps. If she had one. But then you might have difficulty in seeing\r\nit; she mightn\xe2\x80\x99t like to show it. You said yourself that women didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nlike having marks. And all fairy princesses are women.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd are all women fairy princesses?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey ought to be sometime to some man who knows how to be a fairy\r\nprince.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDon\xe2\x80\x99t you think every man could play that part to the right sort of\r\nprincess?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I do. Only not if he had gone bad, which is a man\xe2\x80\x99s way of\r\ngrowing up. Only the kind that don\xe2\x80\x99t grow up can be fairy princes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHave we grown up, then, Wrexham and Forsyth and I?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis did not reflect this time. She said straight off without any\r\nprevious consideration:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. You have none of you grown up, not even Forsyth, though I think he\r\nlikes to pretend that he has. As for you, Harilek, you will never grow\r\nup, however long you live.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow can you tell whether men have grown up--Shahzadi?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI like it when you call me Shahzadi; it sounds nice. How do I tell\r\nwhen men are grown up? Oh, in lots of ways. Whether they like toys is\r\none thing.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat do you call \xe2\x80\x98toys\xe2\x80\x99?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, horses, armour, bows and arrows, games, and things like that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what other things?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis reflected again, contemplating the distant hills and the snow.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow they speak to women sometimes. Most of all, how they treat a woman\r\nand how they look at her.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd how do _you_ think they ought to treat women?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, like you all treated me when I first came to you. I wasn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nexactly got up for a party.\xe2\x80\x9d She blushed a little. \xe2\x80\x9cAnd you all treated\r\nme just as if I had been wearing my most ordinary frocks, and then you\r\nturned out of your tent and lived in the cold wind outside, and gave me\r\nyour best clothes--rather ragged ones they were.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd after that you spoke to me always as if I were a princess, and got\r\nup when I came to meals, and generally danced attendance on me hand\r\nand foot, and your men did just what you do, and servants can\xe2\x80\x99t change\r\nquickly. They do what they have been accustomed to see their masters\r\ndoing for a long time.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo I was sure none of you had grown up. I knew that when you were\r\nuntying me behind the rock while Payindah was shooting. I was very\r\nfrightened, but a woman has to think awfully quickly sometimes, and I\r\nknew before even you\xe2\x80\x99d got my arms free that _you_ hadn\xe2\x80\x99t grown up,\r\nanyway.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou must judge very quickly, Shahzadi. How do you do it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEvery woman does, and perhaps I am quicker than most. You see I\r\ncould tell from your eyes that, although you were trying to be very\r\nbusinesslike, you were really feeling even shyer than I was, so I knew\r\nit was all right.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you, Shahzadi. You give us good characters in fact.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite good. All of you, though Forsyth was really too clever at doing\r\nmy hair for a little thing that hasn\xe2\x80\x99t grown up.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe has several sisters.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSisters!\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis scornfully. \xe2\x80\x9cI wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t like Stephnos to do my\r\nhair. He\xe2\x80\x99d pull it out by the roots. But I wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t mind Forsyth doing\r\nit every day. Sisters! Other people\xe2\x80\x99s, perhaps!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s just what I said, and then he got quite annoyed.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhich shows that he hasn\xe2\x80\x99t grown up too much yet.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI came to the conclusion that Aryenis was not a bad judge of character.\r\nShe is certainly amazingly observant.\r\n\r\nAfter about two hours we overtook and passed the baggage horses, and I\r\nthink Payindah got the shock of his life when I rode past him complete\r\nin mail and steel cap. Temra appeared surprised, but also, I fancied,\r\npleased, and greeted me in the same words that the escort had used,\r\napparently a set phrase for such an occasion.\r\n\r\nPresently, up a low hill in front, I saw a long white blur--a largish\r\ntown--and Aryenis, with her eyes gleaming, pointed it out.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMiletis, Harilek. In another hour or so we shall be home.\xe2\x80\x9d She\r\nwhispered the last word to herself again.\r\n\r\nWe rode up the hillside among the fields and fruit trees and the\r\nscattered villages, and every now and then women and children and men\r\nat the roadside would wave to Aryenis with cries of joy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook, there are people riding down the road,\xe2\x80\x9d she said, as we came\r\nround a bend under the mulberries. \xe2\x80\x9cI believe--yes, it is--it\xe2\x80\x99s Zin\xc3\xa9\r\ncome to meet me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe put her mare into a canter and then into a gallop, and went off\r\nlike an arrow.\r\n\r\nComing down toward us was a little group of people on horseback. There\r\nwas a girl in front riding with a tall man on a big roan--big, that is,\r\nas the Sakae horses go. Behind them were other mounted men, grooms, and\r\narchers.\r\n\r\nThe girl had evidently recognized Aryenis about the same time, and\r\nswept down on her. The two pulled up as they met, and as we reached\r\nthem they were off their horses--which we caught just in time--laughing\r\nand crying in each other\xe2\x80\x99s arms.\r\n\r\nThe tall man dismounted, and flung his reins to one of his escort.\r\nThen, holding out both hands to Aryenis, he drew her to him when\r\nhe had disentangled her from the other girl, and kissed her on the\r\nforehead. All three were talking rapidly and excitedly in their own\r\nlanguage. I stood holding my pony\xe2\x80\x99s reins in the background, and I\r\nthink none of them thought of me for a couple of minutes at least. Then\r\nthe elderly man noticed me, and said something to Aryenis, who turned\r\nround and called me. Speaking in Greek, she introduced him to me as her\r\nuncle, Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s brother, Milos.\r\n\r\nHe knew all about us, for Kyrlos had sent off a letter by a swift mount\r\nthe afternoon Aryenis had returned, and another with more detail next\r\nday. He thanked me in much the same way as Kyrlos had done, and asked\r\nafter my wound. I explained that it was practically healed, and that\r\nthe bandage would be off in a day or two. Then Aryenis presented me to\r\nZin\xc3\xa9, a pretty girl with dark-brown hair. The picture we had found had\r\nnot been too flattering.\r\n\r\nWe mounted again and rode on up to the city, the two girls talking\r\nhard in front, and Milos and I behind them. He asked me details of our\r\nadventures as we rode along, speaking slowly in Greek. I could see he\r\nwas looking at my dress curiously from time to time, and at last he\r\nasked me whence I got it, so I told him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thought I knew the helmet,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, \xe2\x80\x9cthough it is years since I\r\nhave seen it. So Paulos sends you to war in his mail, does he? You\r\ncould not carry a better man\xe2\x80\x99s arms if you searched the whole land.\r\nOne of the bravest, and there be many brave men in our country. And\r\nfrom what I have heard you also have some claim to be counted in their\r\nnumber. Kyrlos wrote me a full account.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe Sakae had a very straightforward manner of talking, and seemed to\r\nsay exactly what they thought. It was clear that their long residence\r\nin Asia had not tinged them with Asiatic indirectness of speech.\r\n\r\nLike Paulos, he displayed great interest in our weapons, and wanted me\r\nto show him how they fired. We had to make a rule after that not to\r\nfire except in case of need, for ammunition was precious, and we did\r\nnot know how long we were going to be in Sakaeland. So we spread the\r\nstory that we never fired them except in actual battle or for practice,\r\nit being considered unlucky to do so. Otherwise I think we should have\r\ngot through our ammunition in the first week.\r\n\r\nMiletis was a large edition of Aornos: the same long granite walls,\r\nthe same high gates, and the same broad clean streets, lined for the\r\nmost part with fruit trees. It stood at one side of a long hill above\r\nthe river, and beyond it the hills climbed to meet the lower slopes\r\nof Saghar Mor, whose snow-peaks towered above us some twenty-five\r\nmiles away. They rose in long rolling slopes, covered with ilex and\r\npine, and higher up with thick fir forest and rhododendron groves,\r\naflame in summer with gorgeous scarlet blossoms. Most of the wealthier\r\ninhabitants have country villas in the higher hills, where they spend\r\nthe hottest of the summer months.\r\n\r\nWe got the same shower of greetings as we had at Aornos, but even more\r\nnoticeable here in Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s own city, and we progressed very slowly\r\nthrough the crowded street.\r\n\r\nAt the north end of the town we came to a wide open space, and on the\r\nfarther side saw the white stone walls of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s palace, overlooking\r\nthe river. They were loopholed and crenellated, and there was a guard\r\nat the gate; but the whole look of the place was peaceful, and the\r\ngreat doors stood wide open. It was clearly not the home of one who\r\nruled his people by fear. In the gateway was a throng of folk--archers\r\nin uniform keeping back the crowd, archers in undress, servants, men,\r\nand women--all hurrying to greet their mistress, whom they had believed\r\ndead.\r\n\r\nThey swarmed about Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s horse and kissed her hands, shouting,\r\ncheering, the women throwing her handfuls of winter flowers, until\r\nfinally we pulled up at the big sweeping marble stairway that led up to\r\nthe main building, and there they simply mobbed her.\r\n\r\nThere were old grey-bearded men in the fawn tunics, evidently officials\r\nof sorts, hurrying down the stairs; some younger men in mail, doubtless\r\nofficers there on business connected with the war; women servants\r\nwith their short full skirts and embroidered short-sleeved bodices;\r\ngrooms; indoor servants; two falconers; and an apple-visaged old woman,\r\nshrill-tongued, with keen old eyes, in heavily embroidered white\r\nclothes with turquoise-studded silver necklace and bangles, pushing her\r\nway through the crowd.\r\n\r\nAryenis sat on her horse in the middle of them, laughing and smiling,\r\nand once, I think, furtively wiping away tears from her eyes as she\r\ntried to shake hands with about a dozen people per hand at once.\r\n\r\nThen the old woman forced her shrill way to the front, and Aryenis\r\nslipped from the saddle to be smothered in her old nurse\xe2\x80\x99s ample\r\nembrace.\r\n\r\nAfter that she emerged from the throng, I don\xe2\x80\x99t know quite how, and\r\ngoing up three steps waved the people back, calling for silence, which\r\nshe quickly got. All Miletis seemed to do exactly what she told it. And\r\nwhile she stood there two great deerhounds leapt down the steps and\r\nfawned about her, jumping up to lick her hands. Then she petted them,\r\nand made them lie down at her feet.\r\n\r\nWhen there was silence, she proceeded to make a speech, which,\r\nalthough I could not understand, I gathered was a short r\xc3\xa9sum\xc3\xa9 of her\r\nadventures, for I could see the people\xe2\x80\x99s faces working, and grim-faced\r\nmen clapping their hands to their weapons, as the silence grew and they\r\nhushed--listening to Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s clear voice.\r\n\r\nThen she stopped (I discovered later that she had just told them about\r\nthe old chief\xe2\x80\x99s death in the gate).\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek,\xe2\x80\x9d she called, looking at me over the heads of the crowd, who\r\nturned to see whom she was speaking to--\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek; come up here and\r\nstand by me while I talk to my people.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo I slipped off my pony, giving it to the nearest man, and pushed\r\nmy way through the crowd, who made way for me in silence, looking at\r\nme, doubtless wondering who I was. I walked up the steps to where she\r\nstood, the deerhounds at her feet, with the throng of servants and\r\nsoldiers, men and women of all kinds in front, and the little circle\r\nof grave-visaged elders and mail-clad officers just above her.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStand there and let them see you, Harilek; I want them to know you.\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99m going on talking.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd on she went. She was evidently telling of her escape now, for the\r\ncrowd began to cheer, while the men threw their caps into the air and\r\nthe women shrilled their applause and clapped their hands softly in\r\nSakae fashion.\r\n\r\nThen suddenly, in her rather dramatic way, she stopped, turned, and\r\npointed to me, standing there like a fool in Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s mail with my\r\nbandaged face.\r\n\r\nAfter that they mobbed us both, while the old lady nearly wrung\r\nmy hands off, and I was glad when we got up the stairway to the\r\nbuilding. Just as we reached the doors, Aryenis turned on me with eyes\r\nsuspiciously bright and, I think, slightly moist.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWelcome, Harilek, to the home I\xe2\x80\x99d never have seen again except for\r\nyou.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd so we entered the wide doors, with Zin\xc3\xa9 and Milos behind us, and\r\nthe deerhounds walking on either side of Aryenis trying to lick her\r\nhands.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVIII\r\n\r\nA SHAMAN RAID\r\n\r\n\r\nThat afternoon I rode out with Milos to look at some of his men, and\r\nas we rode he talked to me about his people and about their wonderful\r\ncliff-girt land, for Nature, not content with setting the great desert\r\naround Sakaeland, had girdled it further with a precipitous wall of\r\ncliff, that now higher, now lower, circles the whole country. There\r\nbeing no incentive to make a way down to the desert, none has ever been\r\nmade, as doubtless would have happened had the surrounding country been\r\nfertile instead of being hundreds of miles of trackless sand-dunes.\r\n\r\nThe Sakae impressed me more and more. They were not unlike Pathans in\r\ntheir free independence, but it was tempered with a certain respect\r\nfor authority which I have never seen out of England or the countries\r\nsprung from her, since it was by no means the servile respect of\r\nsubject races. As we rode back to the city there was a good deal of\r\ntraffic coming in--horsemen, bullock-waggons, droves of cattle, and\r\nsheep. Between the in and out gates stood a tall, yellow-haired archer\r\non duty directing the stream. He did not shout or gesticulate or beat\r\nfolk ineffectively after the manner of the East. He just spoke quietly\r\nto all, but, whether they were coarse-clad bullock-drivers, or chiefs\r\nin mail with mounted retinues, they did exactly as he told them.\r\n\r\nWatching him as we halted for a moment to let an outcoming drove of\r\nsheep pass, I could not help thinking that, in spite of the great grey\r\ngates, with the mail-clad bowmen sliding to and fro on top, their arms\r\nglittering in the sun, the quaint, heavily laden bullock-waggons, the\r\nloose-smocked men and the full-skirted, bareheaded women, the droves\r\nof cattle along the sunlit poplar-lined road, there was hardly any\r\ndifference between the mail-clad archer\xe2\x80\x99s and the crowd\xe2\x80\x99s common\r\natmosphere and that to be observed around any blue-coated policeman at\r\nany busy plate-glass-fronted corner in London.\r\n\r\nJust as we reached the cross-roads near the place there was a stir and\r\na bustle on the far side, and out through the crowd rode Stephnos,\r\nWrexham, and their men. The people seemed excited, and as we drew\r\nnearer I saw that the party looked weary, their horses tucked up, and\r\nmud splashed more than a simple road journey justified. But when we\r\nmet, I understood, for some of the men had blood on their mail; one,\r\nwith his arm swathed in a blood-clotted bandage, was being supported\r\nin the saddle by a comrade, while two mounted men were leading horses\r\nwhose empty saddles were hung with mail and gear.\r\n\r\nEvidently they had found the enemy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHulloa, John,\xe2\x80\x9d said I as Milos greeted Stephnos, the crowd surging\r\nabout us seeking news from the men. \xe2\x80\x9cYou seem to have bumped them all\r\nright. What\xe2\x80\x99s happened?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHulloa, Harry; didn\xe2\x80\x99t recognize you in that get-up. Raid. D----d\r\nswine! However, we caught \xe2\x80\x99em in the end, eight miles over the border,\r\nand dusted the floor with them pretty usefully. Firoz is chucking a\r\nhell of a chest because he laid out six to his own gun, all stiffs,\r\ntoo. That mail shirt is off one of them.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI remarked Firoz then--in a mail shirt--riding with an N.C.O., who\r\nwas talking rapidly to a tall, red-haired, brown-skirted girl holding\r\nhis stirrup leather. By the flat silver bangle above her right elbow\r\nI judged she was his wife, a conjecture which proved correct. The\r\nunmarried women among the Sakae wear no bangles above the right elbow,\r\nwhile the engaged girls have a little thin one of silver wire.\r\n\r\nThe crowd pressed about them listening, and I could see them looking at\r\nFiroz, his rifle slung across his saddle bow, with admiring eyes; and,\r\nas the speaker stopped and pointed to Firoz\xe2\x80\x99s rifle, the red-haired\r\ngirl and the women near clapped their hands softly.\r\n\r\nMilos and Stephnos rode on, and we followed them, many of the crowd,\r\nespecially the women and above all the small urchins, moving with us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cD----d glad we\xe2\x80\x99re going to have a biff at the Shaman blokes,\xe2\x80\x9d said\r\nWrexham. \xe2\x80\x9cAfter what I\xe2\x80\x99ve seen to-day, I\xe2\x80\x99m all for wiping them out.\r\nTell you about it as soon as I\xe2\x80\x99ve washed the dust out of my throat.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe clattered into the great courtyard and dismounted, the men riding\r\non to their quarters with Firoz among them, the red-haired girl still\r\nwalking by the big N.C.O. Wrexham and Stephnos went off to wash,\r\ndemanding instant food and drink, especially drink. Milos and I joined\r\nthem later in the big dining-hall, where they were taking the edge off\r\ntheir appetite with bread and cold meat; and while Stephnos, between\r\nmouthfuls, recounted the story to Milos, Wrexham gave me his version.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAfter we\xe2\x80\x99d had breakfast at Aornos yesterday,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, refilling\r\nhis glass, \xe2\x80\x9cwe rode on ten miles or so to a frontier fort--place called\r\nTakos, very much like the one we went to the first day.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStephnos asked me if I\xe2\x80\x99d care to come, and I went, as I wanted to\r\nsee a bit more of the country. Also he said that there were enemy\r\nreported in the vicinity, and I\xe2\x80\x99d not seen any live Shamans so far. He\r\ntook twenty men with him, and I took Firoz along in case we ran into\r\nanything, when a second rifle would be handy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen we got to Takos, the fellow commanding there said that there was\r\nnothing doing as yet, but that some friendly Green Sakae had come in\r\nand reported having seen Shaman horsemen moving about in their country.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe afternoon was getting on by that time, for we\xe2\x80\x99d not gone very\r\nfast, and so Stephnos decided to stop there, and the bloke in charge\r\nfixed us all up for the night.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was a regular medi\xc3\xa6val sort of a show--rather like what you\xe2\x80\x99ve told\r\nme about the Punjab frontier. They shut the place up at dusk, and after\r\nthe evening meal we went up on top of the keep and talked a bit. There\r\nwas a big beacon in an iron cage stacked ready for lighting, and a\r\nsmall pot of burning charcoal and torches all handy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe sentries were along the parapet, four of \xe2\x80\x99em with their bows and\r\nhalf a dozen arrows laid out ready on the coping. Seemed a businesslike\r\ncrowd with good discipline.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStephnos told me if nothing occurred we\xe2\x80\x99d ride straight here in\r\nthe morning, after he\xe2\x80\x99d looked around a bit. I fancy he was hoping\r\nsomething would happen. He\xe2\x80\x99s a bit of a thruster, Master Stephnos, and\r\nI could see he was itching to push a sword into some one. Good lad\r\nthat.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked across at Stephnos, who was talking to his uncle, the last\r\nrays of the sinking sun sweeping through the window on to his young\r\nkeen face, with the dancing blue eyes--very steady now, though, as he\r\ntalked--and the bobbed yellow locks. Save for the different colouring\r\nand the masculine features, he was amazingly like Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, we went down and turned in, for it gets pretty parky now after\r\ndark. I talked a little to Stephnos, but it\xe2\x80\x99s not too easy as yet. I\r\nwish I could patter Greek like you birds. However, we were both pretty\r\nsleepy, and it didn\xe2\x80\x99t take us long to get off.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSomewhere about four we woke up, hearing a lot of noise upstairs.\r\nThen down came one of the men with a lantern and jabbered something to\r\nStephnos, who jumped out of bed and started pulling on his kit.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI asked him what was up, and he said that the sentries reported fire\r\nin the distance. We hurried on our clothes and ran upstairs. There\r\nwe found the officer man and several N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s all looking out to the\r\nnorth, where some miles away--we were on a bit of hill--there was a big\r\nflare in the sky.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey bucked a bit--which, of course, I couldn\xe2\x80\x99t understand--and then\r\nStephnos told me they thought it was a raid.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAbout ten minutes later we heard horses\xe2\x80\x99 hoofs on the stones below,\r\nand then the sentries at the lower gate challenged. Then we heard the\r\ngate being opened, and after that men coming up the stone stairs.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey came up into the light of the torches on the platform below\r\nus, a couple of soldiers and another chap--a local by the look of\r\nhim--splashed with mud and covered with dust, and still breathing hard.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe talked to the officer for about half a minute, and then an N.C.O.,\r\nwho was listening, ran to the beacon with a torch and lit it. Soaked in\r\noil, I fancy, for it went up in a blaze straight off.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe officer turned and said something to Stephnos, and they talked for\r\na few seconds and then the officer shouted out some orders, an N.C.O.\r\nblew a whistle, down below from the lower gate some one sounded a horn,\r\nand then I heard the men below turning out. Pretty slick they were, for\r\nfive minutes later, looking down from the parapet, I saw them leading\r\nout the horses. The whole place was red light now from the blazing\r\nbeacon.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI asked Stephnos what was up, and he said an enemy party had got\r\nthrough the line of posts and raided a village about six miles\r\naway--the one we could see blazing. The man who had just galloped in\r\nwas a watchman from the next village. They seemed to have a regular\r\nsystem of alarm-posts, for five minutes after our beacon went up there\r\nwere two more twinkling away to the south of us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStephnos said he was taking his men and twenty more from the fort\r\nand going off at once to the village. Firoz had come up by this time,\r\nanxious to know what it was all about, so I told him to come along, too.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTen minutes later we were in the saddle and away down the track. It\r\nwas too dark to canter; there was only just the last bit of the moon.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe dawn was breaking when we got close to the village, and Stephnos\r\nchecked a minute while his scouts nosed round. Then one of them came\r\ngalloping back and said something to him, and we pushed on again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe told me the enemy had gone, and the scouts were out on the far side\r\nof the village. It was just light enough to see as we rode in, but the\r\nglare of the burning ricks, and the light from such of the thatched\r\nroofs as had not fallen in, gave us enough to see without the daylight.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStephnos\xe2\x80\x99s horse shied at a dead man lying across the path, and then\r\nwe pulled up in the middle of the village.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite a small place--a few houses, most of \xe2\x80\x99em of mud bricks with\r\nthatched roofs, the usual crowd of cattle-shelter and some wooden\r\nbarns, now well alight.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe enemy had wrecked it pretty usefully. About everything that could\r\nburn was burning. The men were looking around for some one alive, but\r\nit was a long time before they found anything but stiff \xe2\x80\x99uns. The\r\nShaman seem to be pretty fair devils. I counted a dozen dead bodies\r\nlying near me, including three women, and I expect there were more in\r\nthe houses. One of them had a kid, too--quite dead.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen two of the men came up leading an old dame with white hair, whom\r\nthey\xe2\x80\x99d found hiding somewhere. The poor old soul was in a frightful\r\nstate, of course. But she recovered a bit after Stephnos spoke to her,\r\nand told him that the raiders had not been gone long. I noticed one of\r\nthe fellows with her was pretty agitated, and I discovered afterwards\r\nthat he was one of the men from the fort and his girl was in the\r\nvillage--poor devil. He was pretty near off his head when we\xe2\x80\x99d done\r\nsearching the place and found no more people alive.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen Stephnos started us off again. The lad was breathing hard through\r\nhis teeth. I don\xe2\x80\x99t think he\xe2\x80\x99d seen much of this sort of thing, and he\r\nwas white hot to catch up with the swine.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe pushed on over the border, and just after the sun rose ran into a\r\nlittle group of Green Sakae, rather harried-looking, hiding in some\r\nundergrowth. They told us that a party of Shaman raiders, about a\r\nhundred, with some women, had passed some time before--going toward the\r\nShaman country, they thought.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe went on, and before we\xe2\x80\x99d gone another mile we saw one of the scouts\r\noff his horse standing by the roadside. When we reached him the fellow\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99d noticed before with the old woman, who was riding just behind\r\nStephnos and me, gave a great cry, leapt off his pony, and went down on\r\nhis knees by the scout, who I then saw was standing by a woman\xe2\x80\x99s body\r\nunder a little bank. As we pulled up I saw she\xe2\x80\x99d had a spear or a knife\r\ndriven in under her ribs.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe all stood back a bit, then, when we understood. The scout got on\r\nhis horse and cantered off after the others. The men were all pretty\r\nmad when we left the village, but this stopped them talking altogether.\r\nI could see them fiddling with their sword-hilts.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was full daylight now, and the hills stood out clear ahead in the\r\nrising sun, and there in front of us the man on his knees _talking_ to\r\nthe girl. Then Stephnos, who was off his horse, stepped up to him and\r\nsaid something, signalling to the rest of us to ride on.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA minute later he came up--his face rather white--and halted us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98There is only one path they can take here through the hills. There\r\nis a forest ahead, and I\xe2\x80\x99m going to try and get in front. They cannot\r\nmove very fast with the women. They\xe2\x80\x99re stronger than we probably, from\r\nwhat we heard, and may hold us off and get away. But if we can get to\r\nthe pass first we can shoot them down in an ambush, and then they won\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nhave time to hurt the women.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen he turned off the track and struck across country at a canter. As\r\nwe went off, the man whose girl had been killed came up and joined us,\r\nand I saw that he had a thick lock of her hair knotted about his wrist.\r\nHe rode without speaking, looking straight ahead. We went hard about\r\nsix miles through some woods, and came out at the foot of the hills\r\nwith one of the fort men guiding us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere was nothing much moving in the country, and we passed near no\r\nvillages. We went on up into the hills; they were low ones, covered\r\nwith scrubby bushes and small thorn-trees, dotted about with bigger\r\ntrees above.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAt last we came back on to the road, where it ran into a steepish\r\nsort of place rather like a cutting with high banks, only natural. The\r\nguide ran down on to the road, and I saw he was looking for tracks, but\r\nas he found none we knew we were ahead of the enemy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen Stephnos started laying an ambush for them. The horses were led\r\naway beyond us into some thick stuff, and tethered to the trees in a\r\ndip below us. Then he put out twenty men, some on either side of the\r\nroad up to where it dipped down again, all of them hidden among the\r\ntrees and bushes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98Will you and your man stop here? You can kill with your weapons as\r\nthey come up. But let them get well into the trap. I with the rest will\r\nbe hidden a little way down the hill, so as to get in behind them.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen he disappeared.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe waited about half an hour, and then the lookout fellow reported\r\nthat the raiders were approaching. From where I was I could get a good\r\nview of the road below us for about five hundred yards. Firoz was just\r\nbeside me, and on either hand were the men, each with his bow ready,\r\nvery quiet.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe heard the noise of horses in front, and then the party came round\r\nthe turn at a walk, some riding, some on foot. There were mounted men\r\nin mail shirts in front with a couple of scouts ahead, but not far\r\nenough. I suppose they thought they were safe now in the Green Sakae\r\ncountry. Anyway, they walked slap into it as we lay doggo.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey were pretty close when I heard Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s horn sound, and there\r\nwas sudden confusion among the packed men in the road. Then, as the\r\nfellows on either side leapt up and opened with their bows, Firoz and I\r\nlet drive at the two scouts, who were a bare fifty yards from us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat part lasted a very few minutes. I suppose the first twenty men\r\nwent down. They were all in a heap bristling with arrows, the horses\r\nkicking and plunging. A few tried to gallop up to the top of the rise,\r\nand Firoz and I had a pretty minute\xe2\x80\x99s rapid into them. None of them got\r\nwithin fifty yards of us except two loose horses, and another dragging\r\nits rider, who got through us and disappeared. Then we heard the fun\r\nbeginning on Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s side, and the N.C.O. shouted something. The\r\nnext minute we were down the slope and going for them.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThese Blue Sakae are real peaches. I\xe2\x80\x99ve never seen fellows go in so\r\nquick. The Shamans tried to collect, but what with wounded horses\r\ncareering round and arrows still coming down from the men on the\r\nflanks, we were into them before they could form. Just as we got to the\r\nbottom I caught sight of Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s fellows coming down beyond them,\r\nand saw some women at the back.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere were really only fifty-odd enemy--we counted fifty-two after,\r\nand I don\xe2\x80\x99t think any got away, and we knocked over nearly thirty\r\nbefore we started down, while Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s fellows were shooting after\r\nthat. When we got in there was a pretty little scurry.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA big hook-nosed fellow came for me--I\xe2\x80\x99d taken to my pistol now--and\r\nI pushed him over. Just to my right was the N.C.O. hard at it sword to\r\nsword with a man in a leather coat. Then the N.C.O. got home, and the\r\nchap sort of fell over him in a heap. While he was trying to clear his\r\nsword another raider rushed him with a knife.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI couldn\xe2\x80\x99t lend a hand at the moment, as I was busy with a\r\nblack-bearded fellow, who materialized on my left with a sword, and I\r\nthought the N.C.O. was a goner.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI blew my gentleman\xe2\x80\x99s face in at about three feet, and his sword\r\nripped my sleeve up and scratched my arm as he caught it and crumpled.\r\nNext time I go to one of these beanos I\xe2\x80\x99m borrowing a mail shirt.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe held up his arm, and I saw then that his coat-sleeve was ripped up\r\nand the shirt below all mottled with blood.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI didn\xe2\x80\x99t notice that. Is it deep?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; nothing. Tied it up with a handkerchief afterwards, and it stopped\r\nat once. However, to get back to the N.C.O. As my bloke toppled\r\nover, I saw Firoz\xe2\x80\x99s rifle-barrel come over the N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s shoulder as\r\nhe struggled to get his sword clear. The new man was just lunging\r\nwhen Firoz sort of blew him away from the muzzle. He spun round and\r\ncollapsed with most of the back of his head missing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe next thing that happened was my running into Stephnos, with a\r\nwhite set face, blood all over his sword and arm, looking round for\r\nsomething more to kill, so I gathered the show was about over.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere was a worry going on under the bank, where two of the enemy had\r\ngot their backs to a big rock, and four of our fellows were finishing\r\nthem. Beyond us some of the men were freeing the women, who were tied\r\nto the horses. Luckily none of them had got hit, and the enemy had been\r\ntoo rushed to hurt them. Others were tying up wounded men, and some\r\nmore were holding prisoners. The whole place was littered with bodies\r\nof men and horses, many with arrows sticking in \xe2\x80\x99em.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI looked round for the soldier whose girl had been killed, and\r\npresently I found him. He was on top of a big fellow in a mail shirt,\r\nand he had his teeth in the man\xe2\x80\x99s throat. By his side was his sword,\r\nbroken off below the hilt. A couple of men were pulling him clear as I\r\ncame up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey lifted him off--the Shaman was dead as mutton--and looked him\r\nover, and he came to as they did. He had taken something in the body,\r\nI think the Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s sword, and he was pretty near gone, but we tried\r\nto fix him up. I think he had gone right off his head, for he lay\r\nthere taking no notice of us, and talking to some one we couldn\xe2\x80\x99t see,\r\nstroking the lock of hair round his wrist and smiling. Stephnos, who\r\ncame up in the middle, said he was still talking to the girl. I hope he\r\nwas really. He looked as if he could see her until his eyes shut, and\r\nthen in another minute he was gone.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe men had seven live prisoners, five of them wounded. The rest\r\nwere all dead, and if Stephnos hadn\xe2\x80\x99t stopped his men they would have\r\nfinished these fellows, too. Personally, after what I\xe2\x80\x99d seen, _I_\r\nwouldn\xe2\x80\x99t have stopped them, and I wondered why he did. I understood\r\nafterwards.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere were six women and a certain amount of gear on the pack-horses.\r\nWe gathered up the enemy\xe2\x80\x99s mail and weapons and such ponies as were\r\nworth keeping. Then we mounted the women on the quietest ones and\r\nstarted back.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe reached the village again about midday, for Stephnos was in a hurry\r\nto get back. We had lost four fellows killed and four more pretty badly\r\nwounded, as well as lighter cases; but we got off cheap, considering\r\nwe\xe2\x80\x99d killed forty-five of them. Of course, the arrows and the rifles\r\nlaid out the majority of them straight off.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe brought the dead and wounded back on the horses; had to strap \xe2\x80\x99em\r\non. When we got to the village, we found it full of troops from the\r\nfort clearing up the mess, and men from the surrounding villages, as\r\nwell as some of the villagers, who\xe2\x80\x99d managed to get away in the dark\r\nwhen the raid happened. They had got the fires pretty well under, and\r\nhad found some burnt bodies in the burnt-out houses.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs I said, the Shamans are fair swine.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe found an elderly white-haired gent in charge, who greeted us as\r\nwe rode in. Stephnos introduced me, and told me he was the chief of\r\nthose parts. We halted a bit there, and Stephnos handed him over the\r\nprisoners, since the raid was in his district.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe old gent had them marched up to where the bodies were laid out.\r\nThen he got hold of six of the oldest men present--sort of jury, I\r\nfancy--and they stood in a row behind him. He talked to the prisoners a\r\nlittle--the soldiers had their work cut out keeping the villagers off\r\nthem--and I think he was questioning them, but they didn\xe2\x80\x99t seem to have\r\nmuch to say.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen he\xe2\x80\x99d finished, the crowd round were listening very quietly. He\r\nturned round after that, and spoke to his six old men, asking them\r\nsomething, and they all nodded in turn.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen he turned his hand over--so--and the guard, who\xe2\x80\x99d been standing\r\nhandy with ropes, ran the prisoners up to the nearest trees without\r\nany talkee, talkee. Good quick work. As we rode away, I saw all seven\r\ndangling limp against the background of burnt-out houses, with the\r\nkites wheeling round them already. I understood then why Stephnos had\r\nbrought them back. He told me that in this country justice is always\r\ncarried out on the scene of the crime, if possible, or somewhere near\r\nit.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI asked him if they killed all prisoners. He said no; but this was\r\nmurder, not war, since they had killed the women and the children. I\r\nquite agreed with him. After finding that wretched girl on the road,\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99d have stood by and watched even if he\xe2\x80\x99d wanted to boil \xe2\x80\x99em alive in\r\noil.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe dropped the fort detachment and one of our men, who was rather bad,\r\nat the village--the rest of the badly wounded belonged to the fort\r\npeople--and came on here as fast as we could go. The horses were a bit\r\ndone by that time, and we had an hour\xe2\x80\x99s halt on the way.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was quite a bright little show one way and another, and young\r\nStephnos has the makings of a very useful soldier. He handled the\r\nambush business a treat, and brought his men in pretty nippy when we\r\nrushed them. And that\xe2\x80\x99s our story. What have you been doing? You\xe2\x80\x99ve got\r\nno end of a rig-out. And where\xe2\x80\x99s Alec?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI told him of our adventures, the little matter of the Shaman envoy,\r\nand the various things I heard since we parted the previous morning.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy the way,\xe2\x80\x9d I finished, \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve met Zin\xc3\xa9--the lady of the picture.\r\nShe\xe2\x80\x99s here now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs she as nice-looking as the picture?\xe2\x80\x9d asked Wrexham.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, quite, I should say, although I\xe2\x80\x99ve not seen it of late.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nMilos turned to us, speaking slowly in Greek:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYour friend was fortunate this morning, it seems, getting off with\r\nonly a scratch. It was good work catching the whole party of raiders.\r\nIn one way the raid is fortunate, since, if there be any of our people\r\ndoubtful about the wisdom of making war, this will show them its\r\nnecessity. It is the first time the Shamans have entered our borders on\r\nsuch a scale.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen is the council to be held?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTo-morrow before midday in the great hall. Perhaps you and your\r\nfriends would like to come, although you will not be able to understand\r\nthe talk, since it will be in our own language. But Stephnos will be\r\nable to tell you what we are saying.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe should like to come very much if we may,\xe2\x80\x9d I said.\r\n\r\nJust at that moment horses clattered up in the dusk outside, and we\r\nheard shouting and trample of feet. Then horses being led away and\r\nvoices, and Kyrlos and Forsyth came in. The former, who had heard\r\nsomething of the raid on his way in, was anxious for details, and\r\nStephnos had to tell the story all over again as Kyrlos sat warming his\r\nfeet at the fire. He was very pleased at the account, and congratulated\r\nStephnos, and also Wrexham for his share in the day\xe2\x80\x99s work.\r\n\r\nThen the others went away to change their travel and battle-stained\r\nclothes, and Kyrlos and I were left by the fire. He looked at my mail,\r\nand smiled in his slow way.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI called on Paulos for a few minutes as I rode by this morning,\xe2\x80\x9d he\r\nsaid, \xe2\x80\x9cand he told me he had fitted you out in his old mail. It suits\r\nyou well, and if you bear it as bravely as he did, you will have much\r\nhonour. I have ordered gear for your friends and your men, which will\r\nbe ready to-morrow. If you ride in our wars, it is but fitting that we\r\nshould arm you after our fashion.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey will be very pleased, Kyrlos, I am sure. Wrexham told me just now\r\nthat he would like mail in the next fight, and his man already wears\r\nsome that he took from a Shaman he killed.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. We picked up two of Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s men on the road, who told us\r\nsomething of what happened. They were very full of talk of your friend\r\nand his man. The latter apparently saved the life of Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s head\r\nN.C.O., and it was seen by several. My people set great store by such\r\nmatters, considering them greater passports to consideration than birth\r\nor wealth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOur people are also of the same mind. Indeed, Kyrlos, the more I see\r\nof the Sakae, the more I think of my own folk. When there is more time\r\nI must ride over and talk with Paulos, who, it seems, has many old\r\nbooks. I think there must be some kinship between your folk and mine\r\nfrom the old, old days.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe will be pleased to have one with whom he can talk of the past, for\r\nhe is a great student. But \xe2\x80\x99tis time we changed, I think. Certain of\r\nour chiefs will eat with us to-night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhen I went up to our rooms I found Forsyth listening enviously to\r\nWrexham\xe2\x80\x99s story. Also Firoz--still in his captured mail--outside the\r\ndoor chatting to Payindah, and the latter lamenting that he had not\r\ntaken the trouble to collect a mail shirt in the gate. Both, however,\r\nwere rejoicing at the opportunity of striking another blow at the\r\nShamans, to whom they had taken the most violent dislike. They cheered\r\nup still further when I told them that they would get new clothes next\r\nday, for in their faded frayed khaki and worn _poshtins_ they were not\r\nable to swagger nearly as much as their hearts desired.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIX\r\n\r\nPAULOS DOES SOME THOUGHT-READING\r\n\r\n\r\nDinner that night was a lengthy affair. There were some dozen lesser\r\nchiefs, as well as various officials and their wives, good-looking\r\nwomen for the most part.\r\n\r\nI had the luck to find myself by Aryenis, while Zin\xc3\xa9 was sandwiched\r\nbetween Wrexham and Forsyth. On my other hand was a youngish man named\r\nAndros, broad of shoulder and square of chin, very soldierly looking,\r\nand a cultured talker. He had many questions to ask about our country,\r\nour weapons, and so on. Later he transferred his attention to Wrexham,\r\ninquiring about the morning\xe2\x80\x99s fight, and I got a chance of asking\r\nAryenis who the different people were.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHas your uncle no children?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked, after she had pointed out the\r\nnotabilities.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; none. It is a great sorrow to him to have no son to assist him in\r\nruling the country. The young chief sitting on your right now helps\r\nhim. He is a distant cousin of ours, and a great friend of mine.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI regarded my neighbour with more interest after that, for I wondered\r\nif he was Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s \xe2\x80\x9cmight be\xe2\x80\x9d fairy prince. He was good-looking\r\nenough, anyway, with his manly features, light brown hair, and keen\r\nblue eyes.\r\n\r\nThen, seeing that he was busy trying to follow Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s rather halting\r\nGreek, she went on more boldly:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHe is really _very_ nice, you know. Don\xe2\x80\x99t you think he looks it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, he does certainly. Is he a soldier, too?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; but these last two years he\xe2\x80\x99s been helping my uncle instead of\r\nliving in one of the border forts, which is where most of the soldiers\r\nbegin. My father says it\xe2\x80\x99s good for them, as they learn their work\r\nand keep out of mischief, as he calls it. I think Zin\xc3\xa9 and I and our\r\nfriends are supposed to be the mischief!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is possible to imagine such a thing,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, looking down the\r\ntable to where Zin\xc3\xa9 was smiling at some remark of Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s. He was\r\nevidently using his Greek to best advantage, and I felt sorry for\r\nJohn, stammering military commonplaces to Andros. I don\xe2\x80\x99t know why I\r\nshould have felt sorry, because Wrexham had never appeared to hanker\r\nmuch after feminine society during the years I had known him. But\r\nthen they were generally years where the said society was limited to\r\nFlemish billet ladies or upon occasion to shrill-tongued Easterns with\r\ngrievances. Still, after all, he was the original finder of Zin\xc3\xa9\xe2\x80\x99s\r\npicture and the cause of our meeting the lady.\r\n\r\nAfter dinner we sat in the great hall and some of the guests sang to\r\nus, rather pleasing music, very Western in type. Two of the women\r\naccompanied them on small stringed instruments not unlike guitars.\r\nThe airs were for the most part familiar to the audience, judging by\r\nthe way they took up the refrains. Of course, we could not follow the\r\nwords, which were all in Sakae, but one that Andros sang was obviously\r\nsome kind of fighting song.\r\n\r\nWhen the applause had died away, he went up to Aryenis and asked her to\r\nsing. She seemed doubtful either about singing or else as to what song\r\nshe should choose, for they talked together quite a time. Eventually\r\nshe got up and sang to his accompaniment--he was obviously a master of\r\nthe instrument, which he took from one of the ladies.\r\n\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s voice--a full soprano--was worth going a long way to listen\r\nto, and she knew how to use it, for she filled the whole great hall,\r\nwhile the rustle and buzz of conversation died away and a still silence\r\nsettled as she began.\r\n\r\nI have heard her sing this particular song often since, and, as the\r\nwords pleased me when I learnt something of the language, I used to\r\nsing it myself after the manner of the unmusical male--namely, in my\r\nbath. I made a rough verse translation of it, which gives the meaning\r\npretty accurately:\r\n\r\n A SONG OF LIFE\r\n\r\n I believe in life and in all it holds\r\n Of beauty and joy and love,\r\n In the flowers that dream in my garden gay,\r\n And the glittering snows above.\r\n In the sweet fresh breath of dawn in spring--\r\n Rose hills in the sunset light--\r\n In the moon peeping out from her spangled veil,\r\n In the warm scented summer night.\r\n\r\n In play I believe, in sport and game,\r\n In the call of the swift foot pack;\r\n In the arrow\xe2\x80\x99s flight and the sword-blade\xe2\x80\x99s kiss,\r\n In the hoofs drumming down the track.\r\n In the stress of work that makes our world,\r\n In the days of the tautened trace;\r\n In the task that we finish clean and fair,\r\n With a laugh in Death\xe2\x80\x99s dark face.\r\n\r\n I believe in the friendships held so dear,\r\n Children\xe2\x80\x99s laughter and men\xe2\x80\x99s grave smiles,\r\n In the pleasures shared and the sorrows halved,\r\n In the thoughts that bridge the miles.\r\n But love is the pivot that swings the whole,\r\n The molten heart of the glow,\r\n Just a man and a woman--all in all--\r\n _That\xe2\x80\x99s_ God\xe2\x80\x99s heaven for us below.\r\n\r\nThe music was pregnant with life, and Aryenis sang it as if she\r\nmeant every word of it. When she finished, there was a low hum of\r\napplause--the real thing.\r\n\r\nShe came over and sat down by Milos and me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDid you like the tune of that?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cVery much, Aryenis.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m glad. It\xe2\x80\x99s rather a nice thing that Paulos composed. I\xe2\x80\x99ll write\r\nyou out the words in Greek one day. It\xe2\x80\x99s all about life and what life\r\nought to be like. It\xe2\x80\x99s a wonderful thing to have been written by a\r\ncripple. The music is Andros\xe2\x80\x99s. He\xe2\x80\x99s clever, isn\xe2\x80\x99t he?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. Is he as good at other things, too?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think there\xe2\x80\x99s nothing Andros can\xe2\x80\x99t do,\xe2\x80\x9d said Milos. \xe2\x80\x9cHe\xe2\x80\x99s one of the\r\nbest riders I know; quite the finest shot with a bow in the whole clan,\r\nand last year he carried off the prize for the best man at arms in our\r\nweapon show. He\xe2\x80\x99s a good leader in war, and popular with everybody\r\nunder him. A good musician, and--though he\xe2\x80\x99s shy about it--somewhat of\r\na poet.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re fortunate in having a man like that under you,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAryenis was telling me that he helps you a good deal.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. He\xe2\x80\x99s getting more and more my right-hand man. Under Kyrlos and\r\nmyself most of the preparations for this war have been made by him.\r\nHe\xe2\x80\x99s got a good head on his shoulders, which does not always go with\r\nthe more showy qualities.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he turned to Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWill you finish the evening for us with that little song of Andros\xe2\x80\x99s?\r\nI have not heard it for quite a long time, and you used to sing it a\r\nlot.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf you like, uncle mine. If Andros will play it for me, that is.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nMilos called to Andros, asking him to play again, and Aryenis sang a\r\nlittle short ballad with a very haunting refrain. If I could write\r\nverse as Andros does, I wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t be shy about it. I\xe2\x80\x99d put it into print\r\nstraight away and let the world see it. But still they have no press in\r\nSakaeland, and if you have some one like Aryenis to sing your poems,\r\nthen a press is worse than superfluous.\r\n\r\nShortly after that the guests began to leave, and we were not sorry,\r\nespecially Stephnos and Wrexham, who were anxious for bed after a\r\nbefore-dawn start, forty miles in the saddle, and a fight.\r\n\r\nForsyth raved about Zin\xc3\xa9 without ceasing while he was undressing--we\r\nhad put him into the second room. I don\xe2\x80\x99t know how many different girls\r\nshe reminded him of. Eventually we threw him out of our room, and left\r\nhim to rave by himself. In the morning he was singing as he dressed.\r\nI remembered that from the time in Calcutta when we were fitting\r\nout--a bad sign--and said that he was going riding with the girls, as\r\neverybody else was busy with preparations for the council.\r\n\r\nWrexham and I announced our intention of going to the meeting, and so\r\nForsyth went off with the two girls. They told us they were going to\r\nmeet Milos\xe2\x80\x99s wife, who would be arriving about midday. I watched them\r\nride out of the gate, Forsyth very smart for the occasion, for, if\r\nthere is one thing under the sun Forsyth prefers to one pretty girl,\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99s two. Under the moon, however, he seems to find one sufficient. The\r\ncouncil meeting was at ten-thirty, and shortly before that Stephnos\r\nfetched us.\r\n\r\nThe council, which met in a big room in the palace, consisted of some\r\nthirty men, heads of clan sections, and officials of different kinds.\r\nWrexham pointed out to me the old chief who had settled with the\r\nprisoners after the raid the day before. He must have been tough for\r\nhis years to have ridden in all that way and still look fresh as paint\r\nwith his youthful colouring under his snow-white locks. But the Sakae\r\nare a hard crowd, and age slowly. He bowed to Wrexham as Stephnos gave\r\nus seats on carved benches ranged round three sides of the room. At the\r\nfourth was a raised dais, presently occupied by Kyrlos and his brother\r\nand two older men. On their right was seated an old man in long black\r\nrobes armed with writing materials, whose business it seemed to be to\r\ntake down important points during the meeting.\r\n\r\nThe chiefs around us were of varying ages, from men like Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nfriend to youths no older than Stephnos. Most of them were clad\r\nin ordinary everyday garments, the pleated smock-like tunics and\r\ncross-gartered leg-wear, though others were in mail. All, however,\r\nwhether in mail or not, wore the short straight Sakae sword. The Sakae\r\nmen are not given to much in the way of personal adornment, though here\r\nand there I sometimes notice men wearing silver bracelets, but these\r\nare the exception rather than the rule. The most common male ornament\r\nis big silver signet rings. Illiteracy among the upper classes is\r\nuncommon, but in spite of that the seal is considered as good, if not\r\neven better, than a signature. The seal engravers must be a remarkably\r\nhonest folk. We were, of course, unable to follow either the opening\r\nspeech which Kyrlos made or the ones that followed; but, from the\r\nhurried translations that Stephnos gave us, it appeared that Kyrlos had\r\ngiven a r\xc3\xa9sum\xc3\xa9 of the Shaman aims, an account of their misdeeds, and\r\nemphasized the necessity of taking quick action before the Blue Sakae\r\nwere overrun even as the Red and Green clans had been. Milos seconded\r\nhim, and then others rose and spoke in turn.\r\n\r\nIt was clear that feeling was pretty high, judging from the guttural\r\nexclamations which greeted various passages. At last Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s old\r\nchief got up and made what seemed to be a very telling speech.\r\nApparently he was describing the raid of the day before. It was many\r\nyears since there had been a raid on such a scale with a whole village\r\npractically wiped out, and the audience was obviously moved by the\r\nstory.\r\n\r\nFinally, Kyrlos spoke again, and Stephnos told us he was asking for the\r\nchiefs\xe2\x80\x99 opinions as to whether they were in favour of immediate war or\r\nnot. There was a brief silence when he had done, and then Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nchief drew his short sword and held it out point downward, and in\r\nanother moment every blade in the room was bare. I could see a look\r\nof relief pass over Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s face as he drew his own weapon, and then\r\nunderstood that he had carried his council with him, and the war was\r\nsettled.\r\n\r\nThe rest of the meeting was a discussion as to the procedure, and\r\nfinally it broke up with the understanding that on that day four weeks\r\nall the fighting men of the whole clan would be assembled at Aornos and\r\nmarch under Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s own command into the Shaman country. Milos would\r\nremain at Miletis to carry on the affairs at home, and superintend the\r\ndefence of the northern border if there were any attempts from the Red\r\nSakae side.\r\n\r\nForsyth and the two girls came back at midday escorting Milos\xe2\x80\x99s wife\r\nAnnais, a very stately-looking middle-aged woman. Her thick brown hair\r\nwas streaked with grey, but she had kept a girl\xe2\x80\x99s complexion, and her\r\nchiselled features and young blue eyes, together with her beautiful\r\nfigure and elastic walk, made it hard to believe that she was, indeed,\r\nas Aryenis told me, well on the wrong side of forty. She spoke to me\r\nvery graciously, thanking me for helping her niece.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe felt as if she had been given back to us from the dead when we got\r\nmy brother-in-law\xe2\x80\x99s letter. I thank God every day that she found some\r\nbrave good men to help her in her danger. I hope your face is nearly\r\nhealed now, Sir Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe bandage comes off to-morrow, lady,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, thanking her for her\r\nkind words.\r\n\r\nThen Andros came up and kissed her on both cheeks, calling her\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cmother.\xe2\x80\x9d I guessed then that, as indeed I found later, he was looked\r\nupon by Milos and Annais as a son, and had it been possible to dislike\r\nhim I should have hated him thoroughly. But one could not dislike such\r\na typical _preux chevalier_ as Andros, courteous in speech, thoughtful\r\nin deed and manner, and as unselfishly brave as any soldier I have ever\r\nmet, though six years\xe2\x80\x99 war has given me the acquaintance of many brave\r\nand unselfish men, such as Wrexham, for instance.\r\n\r\nStill, I did wish most violently that he was other than he was, or else\r\nthat he would produce a wife. I wished it the more ardently all the\r\nfortnight following the council when he rode daily with Aryenis, except\r\nwhen his duties kept him too busy.\r\n\r\nIt is true that I saw a lot of her, because he was engaged either with\r\nKyrlos or else with other officers nearly the whole day. But he managed\r\nto find time to ride with Aryenis either morning or evening, and of\r\ncourse played her accompaniments after the evening meal, when we nearly\r\nalways had music. Forsyth was made to produce his banjoline, and sat\r\nboth metaphorically and literally at the feet of Zin\xc3\xa9, learning Sakae\r\ntunes and teaching her bits and snatches of _revues_.\r\n\r\nHaving no such parlour tricks I was perforce driven to conversation\r\nwith the others, talking to Annais, or discussing European methods of\r\nwar with Milos. Kyrlos had taken a great liking to Wrexham, and the\r\ntwo talked together nearly the whole time most evenings, chiefly shop\r\nabout fortifications and methods of attack. The Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 fortress was\r\nvery strong, and, even after dealing with their troops in the field,\r\nthere was every possibility of a long and arduous siege before us. I\r\nthink Kyrlos hoped that Wrexham, with his knowledge of strange devices\r\nof war, might produce some wonderful invention which would help him to\r\nfinish off the enemy quickly. Considering how long the Sakae had been\r\nisolated, the breadth of mind possessed by the educated classes was\r\namazing. One would have expected the most narrow-minded conservatism\r\nand prejudice, whereas, on the contrary, we found them exceptionally\r\nkeen to take up any new idea.\r\n\r\nI remember Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s disappointment when Wrexham had to explain that\r\nit was beyond his power to make rifles with the plant and labour\r\navailable. They spent many hours together in Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s armouries,\r\nStephnos following Wrexham like a shadow. About the fourth day these\r\nvisits to the armoury began to grow longer, and after that we saw\r\nless and less of the pair each day. Firoz, too, was generally absent,\r\nand I saw Payindah going about much with Temra. Evidently Wrexham\r\nwas evolving something, but somehow it never occurred to me to ask\r\ndetails, and Forsyth was far too busy with Zin\xc3\xa9 to consider anything\r\nelse. As often as not the two of them went off riding with Aryenis and\r\nAndros, but I somehow think that Forsyth, who squired Zin\xc3\xa9, was not\r\nover-careful about keeping the sections closed up too much, as the\r\ncavalry term is. I met them coming back one day, and there were a good\r\nmany horse-lengths between the two sections.\r\n\r\nStill, as I say, I did see a good deal of Aryenis--when Andros was\r\nat work. And the more I saw, the more I wanted to see, and the less\r\ncould I contemplate the idea of six months\xe2\x80\x99 march back to settle in\r\ncivilization with Aryenis in Sakaeland. On the other hand, apart from\r\nthis most disturbing appearance of Andros, a factor which I judged\r\noutweighed most others, I could not conceive Aryenis in any other\r\nsurroundings than below the snows of Saghar Mor among her pine forests\r\nand orchards and rose gardens. She seemed like the spirit of her\r\nbeautiful land incarnate. There was snow and sunshine, blue skies, and\r\ncloud-dappled ones, the filmy mist of rain and the rippling laughter of\r\nthe mountain streams, the light joyousness of the spring blossoms, and\r\nall the golden promise of late summer fruit. All these precious things\r\nwere part and parcel of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s self, and now one and now another\r\npredominated. There was about her, as her song had it, the fresh breath\r\nof dawn. Was there also the sequel of the warm summer night? Unless\r\nI was utterly and hopelessly mistaken, that was there, temporarily\r\nsubmerged, and only waiting the touch of a kindred hand to call it up\r\nin all its deep star-spangled loveliness. Was Andros the fairy prince\r\nthe touch of whose magic kiss would wake all the greater depths hidden\r\nbeneath the iridescent rose mist of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s joyous girlhood, calling\r\nup those far sweeter\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cSilver lights and darks undreamed of,\r\n Where I hush and bless myself with silence\xe2\x80\x9d?\r\n\r\nThe more I watched, the less could I doubt it.\r\n\r\nOne morning, when every one else was occupied--Wrexham and Stephnos,\r\nhidden in the mysterious armoury along with old wrinkled-eyed smiths,\r\namid clouds of fumes splashed with the vivid sparks of molten metal,\r\nand a deafening clangour of hammer and anvil; the two girls, with\r\nAndros and Forsyth in attendance, out riding; Kyrlos and his brother\r\nbusy with affairs of State, and Annais engaged with mysterious female\r\nrites concerning linens and silks and other household business--I\r\nbethought me of Paulos.\r\n\r\nA good horse would see me there long before the midday meal, and a\r\nquiet afternoon might soothe my sand-papered soul somewhat. We would\r\ntalk of old books or of history, and, in answering his questions about\r\nthe great world, which he knew only from writings centuries old, I\r\nwould forget those far older, but eternally new matters which clamoured\r\nso incessantly for notice.\r\n\r\nSo I called Payindah, and told him to get horses--Kyrlos had placed\r\nthe best of his stable at our disposal--and a little later, with the\r\nPunjabi, very smart in the new outfit of mail and leather which Kyrlos\r\nwith the most nicely worded thanks had formally presented to him and\r\nFiroz, I was cantering down the Aornos road.\r\n\r\nPayindah\xe2\x80\x99s steel cap winked in the sunshine, and as he looked my way I\r\nnoticed again the chiselled silver plate in front, which I knew bore\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s name. She had had that done herself for the two men, so that\r\nall who met them might know to what they owed their arms. \xe2\x80\x9cSome little\r\nmemory of a brave deed well done,\xe2\x80\x9d she had said to me as she gave\r\nPayindah his cap after Kyrlos had handed them the new mail jerkins.\r\n\r\nBut my cap was bare of crest or favour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis is a land as good as Farance, sahib,\xe2\x80\x9d said Payindah, looking out\r\nover the countryside with its rich soil, its thick masses of trees,\r\nand the populous little villages all surrounded by fruit orchards. \xe2\x80\x9cIt\r\nis richer than even the canal districts of the Punjab. And a good folk\r\nin it, like unto those of Farance. Brave men and masterful women, and\r\nchildren as stout as those of my own land. One could settle well in\r\nsuch a country.\xe2\x80\x9d He looked at me closely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what would you do here?\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cYou would be in a strange land,\r\nhaving neither kith nor kin and no fields of your own? The people, too,\r\nare of other faith than yours, and their manners are strange. Nor even\r\nis there a mosque.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut what is this talk of strange land and strange ways to an Awan\r\nwho has soldiered for the Sirkar[6] over half the world? Were not the\r\npeople of Farance of other faith, and there were no mosques in the\r\ncountry. But were we Punjabis the less at home? Last night I ate with\r\nTemra, and it was like to the billets in Farance. And his women, his\r\nwife and her sister, ate with us after the manner of those we saw in\r\nEurope.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo Temra\xe2\x80\x99s wife has a sister, has she? Is she married?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, though she is of full marriageable age--over-aged, we should say,\r\nin the Punjab.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerchance about to be married?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot so. I asked Temra on the matter.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThis sounded interesting, but, considering Payindah had been less than\r\nthree weeks in the country, I wondered how he had contrived to get\r\nto the stage of conversation. I expect it was pretty monosyllabic. I\r\nfollowed up the train.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI suppose you were thinking of seeking land here, then, and not coming\r\nback with us to the Punjab.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut the sahibs will not go back to the Punjab. You will stay here.\r\nForsyth Sahib will not desire to leave the Lady Zin\xc3\xa9, nor will the\r\nShahzadi\xe2\x80\x99s father wish to part with Wrexham Sahib, who is teaching his\r\nsmiths many things. You will most certainly stay here as the sahibs\r\nsettled in Hind in the days of the emperors, receiving land and great\r\nhonours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou seem very certain about it all, but, even if the Shahzadi\xe2\x80\x99s father\r\ngets Wrexham Sahib to stop here, and Forsyth Sahib is not desirous of\r\nleaving the Lady Zin\xc3\xa9, where do you and I come in?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPayindah looked at me again unabashed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTemra and his folk took me to a wedding yesterday--one of the\r\nsoldiers--and it was clear that the woman had as much voice as the man,\r\nif not more. And when it was over, we rode to the house, and upon the\r\nstep was the bride\xe2\x80\x99s brother armed. And he spoke to the bride as though\r\nasking her whether she desired the man or not, and only when she had\r\nindicated that she would have him did he lower his sword and allow the\r\nbridegroom to enter. It is clear that these folk are as those of the\r\nsahibs\xe2\x80\x99 country, for the women speak sometimes as equals to the men\r\nbut more often as superiors. So you will also remain here, for the\r\nShahzadi will not let you go.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re a fool, Payindah. You talk about what you don\xe2\x80\x99t understand at\r\nall. And, anyhow, the Shahzadi rides nearly every day with Lord Andros.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen it is clear that she does not mean to marry him, for this also\r\nI saw at B\xc3\xa9thune, where there were two French soldiers who came on\r\nleave, friends of the daughter of the house you were billeted in. And\r\none she walked with frequently. And upon the other, with whom I talked\r\nsometimes, she looked not at all with favour. At least so it seemed.\r\nBut later on, when we passed that way, he was there on leave again, and\r\nthey were married.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat may be, but it is not so here. Anyway, it does not matter,\r\nbecause presently I shall be going back to England, even if you all\r\nstop here; though what you will live on I don\xe2\x80\x99t know.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLand,\xe2\x80\x9d said Payindah decisively. \xe2\x80\x9cThere is always land to get after\r\nbattle, as my folk know, seeing all ours has been given us for wars.\r\nWhen the Shahzadi\xe2\x80\x99s father has destroyed the enemy, he will give land\r\nto his army after the manner of kings when they are victorious. So that\r\nif perchance we desire it we shall get it, for we are the people who\r\nwill settle the war, since we alone have rifles.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe patted his .303 as I can imagine away back in the dim past his\r\nancestors, kin, perhaps, of these same Sakae and their like--the white\r\nraces who swept out over Europe till the Atlantic checked them for a\r\nfew hundred years--patted their swords as they beheld the rich Punjab\r\nspread out below the gaunt frontier hills, knowing that always land\r\nlies at the grasp of him that can wield his weapons.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd you would take land and settle here if there were opportunity?\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\nasked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMay be. Never before have I desired to settle down like my folk at\r\nhome. Perhaps had there been children, \xe2\x80\x99twould have been otherwise.\r\nBut the Giver sent none, and then took away her who might have been\r\ntheir mother. So I desired even less than before to stay settled, and\r\nas I had done before sought new faces, strange places, feeling called\r\nto wander. But now somehow I think that I will cease roaming, and stay\r\nunder my own roof on my own land. Yet I do not desire to return to the\r\nPunjab.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, anyway, it\xe2\x80\x99s a long way off, and there is a war first. After\r\nthat we shall see what we shall see. Your Book says that God has bound\r\nthe fate of every man about his neck. Doubtless He has fixed ours, too,\r\nand sooner or later we shall know what it is.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMost surely He has. You and I were at the _tangi_ when the Shahzadi\r\nwas about to be killed, so she escaped. The Shahzadi knew of the only\r\nway up the cliffs, so that we are now in this country. Yes, undoubtedly\r\nwe shall know presently what Khuda has bound about our necks.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe were riding up the lane toward Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s house as he spoke, and a\r\nlittle later we entered the trim garden. The servants ran out to take\r\nthe horses, and, walking through the great hall, I found Paulos sitting\r\nin the sun in the back verandah.\r\n\r\nHe greeted me very kindly, and was, I think, pleased to see me. We\r\nbreakfasted out in the verandah, and spent a quiet afternoon talking of\r\nmany things in which he was interested, especially of all the countries\r\nhe knew of from his readings. He showed me one or two old manuscripts,\r\nthings which would have been priceless to collectors at home.\r\n\r\nLuckily I had kept up my readings of the classics and studied the\r\ngeography of the old world, and so was able to talk with some show of\r\nknowledge. Later in the afternoon we put away the past, and, turning\r\nto the present, talked of the situation in Sakaeland, of its peoples,\r\nand then inevitably passed to personalities, speaking of the different\r\npeople I had met. Paulos is always tact itself, but somehow I could\r\nnot help feeling that he was trying to read my thoughts when the\r\nconversation turned to Aryenis. I did not turn it there--at least\r\nI don\xe2\x80\x99t remember doing so--but somehow she crept in. She is hard\r\nto keep out of anything once you have met her. And once she had\r\nentered--unbidden--Andros also came up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI have not seen Andros for many a day,\xe2\x80\x9d said Paulos, \xe2\x80\x9cthough he used\r\nto be a frequent visitor. He and Aryenis are old friends, and when she\r\nwas staying with me in the spring he often rode over here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFriends are they?\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy do you ask in that tone?\xe2\x80\x9d said Paulos, looking at me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, I have thought sometimes that they were more than friends or\r\nfast becoming so. He is one with whom any woman might desire more than\r\nfriendship.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nDespite the fact that I knew Paulos so slightly, there was something\r\nabout the old man that called for confidence, that sort of sympathy, of\r\ncommunity of understanding, that a character like his calls out at the\r\nvery first meeting.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; you are right. There are few women that would not be only too\r\nready to give him much more than friendship should he seek it. And yet\r\nhe is always very heart-whole or seems to be so. But, with you, I have\r\nsometimes thought that his heart is not so secure where Aryenis is\r\nconcerned.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd hers?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt would take a far cleverer man than I to tell the state of a woman\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nheart, more particularly when the heart belongs to such a one as\r\nAryenis. Frankly, I know not. This I do know, that Milos and his wife\r\nvery much wish that she and Andros should make a match of it. Kyrlos\r\nalso would not be ill-pleased, though, provided the man was a good one,\r\nhe would welcome any one Aryenis chose, since he desires nothing but\r\nher most complete happiness.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd you think--?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think that, of all those I know, Andros is perhaps the one I would\r\nbe most pleased to give my daughter to, if I had one. But, as to\r\nwhether he is the one for Aryenis, I cannot make up my mind. Both are\r\nsuch outstandingly good representatives of their sex that I am not\r\nsure whether they would be best matched. Light calls to dark and like\r\nto unlike all through nature as I see it, and sometimes I think that\r\nthese two are in many ways too alike for perfect mating. The greatest\r\nhappiness comes more often from harmonious dissimilarity than from\r\nabsolute agreement.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. I have noticed that, too. These two are not unlike in many ways.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe were both silent a little. I was looking over the trees at the\r\ngreat snow-peaks stabbing the cloud-flecked blue sky. Presently the\r\nwhite snow would turn rose-pink at the kiss of the setting sun. Some\r\nday, too, some one\xe2\x80\x99s kisses would wake Aryenis and send the blood\r\nmantling to her white skin. Her words came back from the firelit hall\r\nat Aornos--\xe2\x80\x9cI think he did once, though I\xe2\x80\x99m not sure--\xe2\x80\x9d I clenched my\r\nhand on the carved arm of my chair, and then was aware that Paulos was\r\nstudying my face, and so came back out of my thoughts.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAryenis would never leave this country of her birth,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cShe\r\nloves every tree and every flower, every hill and every stream, here.\r\nSometimes I think she is the vital essence of it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI jumped nearly out of my chair at his words, and I\xe2\x80\x99m sure he saw it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOf that I am certain,\xe2\x80\x9d he went on. \xe2\x80\x9cWhoever marries her will have to\r\nlive in our country.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou mean she would not marry into one of the other clans,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, not\r\nmeaning that at all.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; perhaps I meant that, and also other things as well.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you a magician, Paulos?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHarilek,\xe2\x80\x9d said he, very gently, laying his hand on my knee, \xe2\x80\x9cif\r\nreading thoughts be magic, perhaps I am a magician. Your thoughts are\r\nvery transparent to an old man like me, one who makes it his hobby to\r\nunderstand his fellows. I would sometimes that I could read Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nthoughts as easily as some other folk\xe2\x80\x99s.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen, since you can read my thoughts, you may be able to read that\r\nhome to me would be wherever Aryenis is.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat, lad, I read the first time you came here. I know nothing of you,\r\nsave that you saved her at the risk of your own life. But I can see\r\nclearly that you are of our own class, and, since I have long judged\r\nmen, I know that your speech is true.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd suppose, Paulos, that such a one as I--a stranger--were to make a\r\nbid for Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s favour, and suppose by some miracle I got it, what,\r\nthen?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe smiled.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou do not know our people well yet. Even in our oldest books you\r\ncan read that our women marry none but those they choose. Suppose, as\r\nyou say, such a one as you were to do what you have said, and let us\r\nimagine that Aryenis were willing, then none would say you nay. Also,\r\nbut for you Aryenis would not be here at all now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI rose to my feet.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you, Paulos. I came here to-day because I felt that I could talk\r\nto you straightly if so inclined. But it seems that you knew my mind\r\nbefore ever I opened my mouth. In a week we ride past here to the war,\r\nand I will come and see you again. I must be going now, for it gets\r\nlate, and it is some way to Miletis.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI shall look forward to seeing you whenever you come, lad. I like to\r\nsee my old mail in use again, and I confess to a liking for him who\r\nwears it. I shall look to hear more news of Aryenis and of Andros. But\r\none thing I would have you remember.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what is that?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhen Aryenis was much younger I told her that my mail was waiting for\r\nher husband. That was many years ago, and, girl-like, she replied very\r\nhotly that she would never marry any one at all, and was going to look\r\nafter Kyrlos and me when we were old.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe paused and looked at me, but I was silent, and presently he went on\r\nagain:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHave you ever known Aryenis forget anything in the time you have known\r\nher?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo,\xe2\x80\x9d said I truthfully. \xe2\x80\x9cShe seems to have the most wonderful memory.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, then, remember this while you ride home. The day after you\r\nbrought her back to her father, she wrote to me saying that she would\r\nreach Aornos shortly, and bring you to see me. And in that letter she\r\nreminded me that I had often told her that all I had was hers, which is\r\ntrue. Then she went on to say that she desired me to give you my old\r\nmail _as a thank offering_. She was careful to emphasize the object of\r\nthe gift lest I might think there was any other reason for it. It is\r\nalways well to note carefully anything that a woman emphasizes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy so, Paulos?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause you will often find that they mean something entirely\r\ndifferent, and later on the knowledge may be valuable. But I hear the\r\nhorses. I\xe2\x80\x99m sorry I cannot read Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s thoughts for you. But I have\r\ntold you some things which may help you to read them yourself if ever\r\nyou should like to take up magic.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI had a lot of things to ponder as I rode home, but somehow I did not\r\nfeel so sand-papery inside as I had been. Paulos is a most soothing\r\nperson.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XX\r\n\r\nI MAKE A BET WITH ARYENIS\r\n\r\n\r\nI had to hurry to get back in time for the evening meal, and it was\r\ndark before I rode up the paved street into Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s palace.\r\n\r\nFortune sent me to sit next to Aryenis that night, an honour I had\r\nnot enjoyed for the last two or three days. An Aryenis in dress of\r\nflowing silk, with low square-cut neck--the offending bandage had been\r\nremoved--which showed the faultless turn of her slim throat above her\r\nbeautifully modelled shoulders. Simple clothes, and but little in the\r\nway of ornament, save for the sapphire pendant on the thinnest of gold\r\nchains, which gleamed against the rose ivory of her bosom, and the\r\nlittle gold clasps that sparkled in the gold-flecked wealth of her\r\nauburn hair.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd where have you been all day, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked. \xe2\x80\x9cI was looking\r\nfor you this evening to ride with me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wish I had known that. But I thought you would be engaged all day,\r\nand so, as every one else seemed occupied, I rode out this morning with\r\nPayindah down the Aornos road.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou were a long time, since you were not at breakfast, and have but\r\njust come in. How far did you go?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI went to see Paulos.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou went to Paulos! You never told me that you were going! Harilek,\r\nyou\xe2\x80\x99re getting very secretive. If you had told me, I should have ridden\r\nwith you, for I have not seen him for many days.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, how was I to know that you wanted to go? I thought you were\r\nriding--as usual--with Zin\xc3\xa9 and the others.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, but I\xe2\x80\x99d have changed that to go and see Paulos. Besides, I\r\npromised to show you some of the nice bits in his woods, you remember.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I remember that, all right. I have a fairly good memory, though\r\nperhaps not as good as yours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy mine? What do you know about my memory?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNothing very much, only Paulos was talking of it this afternoon. He\r\nsaid you never forgot anything.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, you were talking about me, were you? I wonder my ears didn\xe2\x80\x99t burn.\r\nBut I thought men always talked about things and not about people. I\r\nhope Paulos was giving me a good character; was he?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFair to middling. He was thought-reading most of the time, though.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhose thoughts? This is getting exciting.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMine mostly. You don\xe2\x80\x99t think he was able to read yours, do you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI don\xe2\x80\x99t know. He is very clever. He might be able to read mine better\r\nthan I can myself.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan\xe2\x80\x99t you always read your own, then, Aryenis?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot always as well as I should like to. They get rather mixed up\r\nsometimes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat a confession to make! I always imagine them as sort of things\r\nlike--like the mirror Forsyth gave you--very clear and sharp.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat shows, Harilek, that you are still far from being grown up, or\r\nyou would know that sometimes a woman\xe2\x80\x99s thoughts are the most tangled\r\nthings in the world, and most tangled of all to their owner.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre they twisted up just now, then?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m not quite sure. Sometimes I think they are quite straightforward,\r\nand then, just as everything seems perfectly clear, I come up against\r\nthe most awful bundle of knots you ever saw in your life.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou want a magician like Paulos to untwist them for you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, that would be very nice--if he could. But I think Paulos is not\r\nthe kind of magician that would unravel knots like these.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wonder what sort of a magician is wanted. Perhaps the fairy prince\r\nkind\xe2\x80\x9d--and I looked across the table to where Andros was making a\r\nthree-cornered conversation with Forsyth and Zin\xc3\xa9. The doctor never\r\nfailed to find himself next to Zin\xc3\xa9 at every meal, which was more than\r\nI could achieve with Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFairy princes never read thoughts,\xe2\x80\x9d flashed Aryenis. \xe2\x80\x9cThey\xe2\x80\x99re always\r\nfar too stupid!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI wondered if she had been quarrelling with Andros that day. It was\r\nthree days since she had asked me to ride with her, and now she\r\nsuddenly said she had wanted me to go out that evening.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre they always stupid? I thought they were supposed to be clever.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. They are perfect fools generally,\xe2\x80\x9d she retorted, looking very\r\ndeliberately at the trio opposite.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s rather bad luck on the princesses, then.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou don\xe2\x80\x99t suppose they worry their heads about it, do you? There are\r\nother people in the world besides fairy princes with dragon marks, or\r\nwithout them, for that matter,\xe2\x80\x9d said she loftily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStill in the end of the story she generally marries the prince. That\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nwhat I mean about being sorry. I wasn\xe2\x80\x99t insinuating that the princesses\r\nworried their pretty heads about the princes--I was merely considering\r\nthe dullness of being married to some one who was a perfect fool.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t marry them. There\xe2\x80\x99s always the swineherd or some one\r\nsensible who can read thoughts in the story.\xe2\x80\x9d This very disdainfully.\r\n\r\nI felt crushed. \xe2\x80\x9cThen I shall go and be a swineherd.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat for?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy, so that the princess will think I\xe2\x80\x99m sensible and able to read\r\nthoughts.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then what do you think she will do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMarry me, I hope. Isn\xe2\x80\x99t that what you said she would do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, come and tell me when the play starts. I should like to see you\r\nposing as a swineherd and pretending you could read thoughts. I don\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nbelieve you could read any one\xe2\x80\x99s, certainly not a princess\xe2\x80\x99s.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99d have a good try if I got a chance.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf _I_ were a prince disguised as a swineherd, I\xe2\x80\x99d _make_ a chance,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nsaid Aryenis decisively.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat is just what I intend to do--Shahzadi. I\xe2\x80\x99m going to borrow a\r\nmagic cap and a wand from Paulos, and start in on the thought-reading\r\ntrade.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99ll have to find some one with thoughts to read, then. How are you\r\ngoing to do that?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite easy. I\xe2\x80\x99ll begin now and read yours.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou can\xe2\x80\x99t, Harilek.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll wager you a pair of new riding-gloves that I can. A pair of\r\ngloves to--what shall I say?--to a piece of that mauve ribbon you wear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat ribbon? Oh!\xe2\x80\x9d She very hurriedly adjusted the shoulder of her\r\ndress.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWill you take the bet?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd who\xe2\x80\x99s to say if you read them right? If I am not sure, who else is\r\ngoing to be?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou shall be judge. If I read them right, you will be able to untie\r\nthe knots. Is it a bet?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe considered. \xe2\x80\x9cYes. I want a pair of gloves.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re very sure of winning?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOf course I am. Go on, magician.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, at present you\xe2\x80\x99re thinking of the war.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe\xe2\x80\x99re all thinking of it, worse luck. That doesn\xe2\x80\x99t count.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, but you\xe2\x80\x99re thinking of the people who are going to the war.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo is every woman in Sakaeland, Harilek. That doesn\xe2\x80\x99t count either.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nShe was graver now.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut you see your thoughts are connected with their helmets.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat do you mean?\xe2\x80\x9d She looked at me questioningly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy, as to whether some one will ride with a nice favour of--say--a\r\npiece of mauve ribbon.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked at her, but she was gazing across the table again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cContinue--charlatan,\xe2\x80\x9d she said softly as I stopped.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd wondering whether he will ask for the ribbon, or whether, since\r\nall fairy princes are perfect fools, it will be necessary to give it to\r\nhim.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy new riding-dress is russet, Harilek. I should like fawn gloves with\r\nit, and you shall take me out to-morrow and we will see whether such\r\ncan be found.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut why? You haven\xe2\x80\x99t explained your judgment so that I can see if it\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nright. You haven\xe2\x80\x99t said I\xe2\x80\x99m wrong.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause I _never_ thought he--whoever \xe2\x80\x98he\xe2\x80\x99 may be--would ask for a\r\npiece of ribbon. And as for _giving_ such a favour--if \xe2\x80\x98he\xe2\x80\x99 wanted\r\nit, he would have to _take_ it.\xe2\x80\x9d She turned to me. \xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re not such a\r\nsuccess at the magic trade, Harilek. You\xe2\x80\x99d better try something else.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI shall.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what will you try?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat the soldiers of my country call \xe2\x80\x98offensive action,\xe2\x80\x99 a recipe\r\nwhich is very useful for thought-reading.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re pleased to be mysterious now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHowever, before I could answer we saw that people were getting up,\r\nso we followed into the hall, and I saw little of her after that, as\r\nAndros and Forsyth annexed her to sing with Zin\xc3\xa9, and I got no more\r\nchance of thought-reading that evening.\r\n\r\nBut Forsyth successfully spoilt my sleep by wondering whether Aryenis\r\nwas going to marry Andros.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m sure they\xe2\x80\x99re going to get off soon,\xe2\x80\x9d said he, sitting on his bed\r\ncontemplating the picture of Zin\xc3\xa9 which he had annexed out of Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nkit. \xe2\x80\x9cThey\xe2\x80\x99re always much too busy to worry about Zin\xc3\xa9 and me when we\r\ngo out together.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDon\xe2\x80\x99t suppose _you\xe2\x80\x99ve_ got any grouse on the point, anyway,\xe2\x80\x9d said I\r\nbrutally. \xe2\x80\x9cYou get the more time to analyze who exactly Zin\xc3\xa9 reminds\r\nyou of.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe doesn\xe2\x80\x99t remind me of any one,\xe2\x80\x9d he retorted. \xe2\x80\x9cZin\xc3\xa9 is in a class\r\nall her own. I\xe2\x80\x99ve never met any one like her before.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBad as that, is it, old thing?\xe2\x80\x9d I replied, unfeelingly. \xe2\x80\x9cYou want to\r\nget back to civilization. Too much trekking has upset you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cD---- civilization! Think of Zin\xc3\xa9 among a crowd of chattering idiots\r\nsuch as one meets at home!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou used to chatter with them all right upon occasion, so you\r\nshouldn\xe2\x80\x99t heave bricks.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMust talk to some one. But when one\xe2\x80\x99s met the real article--things are\r\ndifferent,\xe2\x80\x9d he answered, rather lamely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI suppose they are,\xe2\x80\x9d I said as I pulled up my blankets and made\r\npretence of going to sleep. But it was poor pretence, and I was glad\r\nwhen Wrexham, who was immersed in the precious book of engineering\r\nformula that he had brought with him, put out the light and I could lie\r\nin the dark, open-eyed, without fear of people talking to me. D----\r\nAndros!\r\n\r\nStill, anyway, I should go riding with Aryenis the next day, and then\r\nsoon we should be off to Aornos, and after that the war, when doubtless\r\none might be too busy to waste time thinking. And after that the\r\ncamels and home, even if all the rest went mad and wanted to stop in\r\nSakaeland. I should still have Sadiq.\r\n\r\nSo next morning after the early breakfast, Aryenis and I rode out into\r\nthe town to visit the shops where they sold the silk work of the upper\r\nvalley. I had the pleasure of paying out some of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s new silver\r\ncoinage--which we had got from his treasury in exchange for our Chinese\r\nsilver--for a pair of silk-embroidered leather gauntlets such as the\r\nupper-class Sakae women wear when riding.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI hope you will try and read my thoughts often, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d remarked\r\nAryenis, regarding her new gloves as we rode along. \xe2\x80\x9cI love winning\r\nthings.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll make the same bet again if you like.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCertainly. I could do with several more pairs of gloves. Will you\r\nbegin?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, not yet. I shall wait till the thoughts require elucidating.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut why not now?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause they\xe2\x80\x99re not worthy of my skill at present, since you can read\r\nthem yourself at the moment.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re very clever this morning, Sir Thought-Reader.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI was listening to you singing last night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s that got to do with it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was clear that you had resolved some tangled thoughts a bit more\r\nthan at dinner-time. You are easier to read when you sing, even though\r\nI don\xe2\x80\x99t know Sakae. Andros plays well, and you were in tune with him.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; he _was_ rather good last night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe had come out into the open space beyond the walls, where some of\r\nMilos\xe2\x80\x99s levies were collecting. There were rows and rows of felt tents\r\nand lines of brushwood shelters, while beyond these a party of men were\r\npractising with their bows against wicker targets under the direction\r\nof some N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s. The Sakae are fine bowmen; and, although much of the\r\nrest of the levies\xe2\x80\x99 armament was crude, I fancied they would be able to\r\ngive a good enough account of themselves when they got an opportunity\r\nof using their own pet weapon.\r\n\r\nWe pulled up our horses and watched them awhile, very statuesque\r\nfigures, with their great bows pulled taut waiting the word to loose.\r\nThen the snapped order from the N.C.O. and the bowstrings sang home\r\nas the long yellow arrows changed to flickers of yellow light in the\r\nsunshine ere they stood quivering half-buried in the wood backing of\r\nthe targets.\r\n\r\nAt fifty yards one would want stout mail to stand up to the shock of\r\nthe steel-shod war arrows loosed from a six-foot treble-sprung bow with\r\na big man behind it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoes every man in Sakaeland use a bow?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, every one, and some of the women, too.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you?\xe2\x80\x9d The idea of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s slim arms pulling an arrow to the point\r\nseemed incongruous.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. A light one, of course. But with that I can beat Stephnos at\r\nfifty paces, and he\xe2\x80\x99s good--though not as good as Andros.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI should like to see you do it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou shall one day--that is, if you don\xe2\x80\x99t want to go back to your own\r\ncountry directly the war\xe2\x80\x99s over.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy do you think I want to go back quickly?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, your sister\xe2\x80\x99s waiting, isn\xe2\x80\x99t she?--and then you will get tired\r\nnot having all the wonderful things you\xe2\x80\x99ve told me about. Carriages\r\nthat go without horses, and things that fly, and glass that you can see\r\nthrough.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cToys, in fact; not things that matter, as you put it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; certainly toys--compared to some things. But men always want\r\ntoys, don\xe2\x80\x99t they? That\xe2\x80\x99s the worst of them. They never can be content\r\nwith the things that really make up life. They\xe2\x80\x99re all just the same:\r\nyou and Stephnos, Wrexham and father; even Andros wants playthings\r\ninstead of seeking what would turn life into something much bigger and\r\nfiner than mere toys can ever do.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat? Even Andros?\xe2\x80\x9d said I as we rode back. \xe2\x80\x9cNow I should have thought\r\nthat he was the proper understanding kind of person who would be clever\r\nenough to realize the things that do matter. I\xe2\x80\x99m sure that he always\r\nreads thoughts properly, and doesn\xe2\x80\x99t lose bets by guessing wrong.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re not much better at reading characters than you are at reading\r\nthoughts, Harilek. If you want to know, Andros is just as bad as you\r\nare at thought-reading. In fact--impossible as it may seem--he\xe2\x80\x99s even\r\nworse. He\xe2\x80\x99s been wrong twice in the last fortnight.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thought so; so I wasn\xe2\x80\x99t quite beside the mark yesterday.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou thought that he was wrong, did you?\xe2\x80\x9d She looked a little puzzled,\r\nthen suddenly smiled. \xe2\x80\x9cOh, Harilek, I\xe2\x80\x99d really like to shake you.\r\nYou\xe2\x80\x99re _so_ slow-witted sometimes. See if you can ride faster than you\r\ncan think.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWhereat she put her horse into a canter that was practically a gallop,\r\nleaving me to follow her through the dust, and not till we reached the\r\nbig gate did she condescend to let me catch her up and ride reasonably\r\nby her side. I was still pondering the reasons for her last remark, and\r\ndoubtless, seeing me silent, she felt she must shake my wits up for\r\nfear I might strain them thinking.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIs Forsyth always anxious to have some one to squire--some one nice\r\nlike Zin\xc3\xa9, I mean?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAlways, as far as I know. Each one reminds him of one of the ones\r\nbefore.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoes Zin\xc3\xa9 remind him of any one in particular?\xe2\x80\x9d said she, looking at\r\nme sideways.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, I\xe2\x80\x99m afraid not. That\xe2\x80\x99s the trouble, to my mind. He can only see\r\nZin\xc3\xa9 now as Zin\xc3\xa9, and not as, so to speak, \xe2\x80\x98essence of girl\xe2\x80\x99 in the\r\nabstract.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFancy talking of Zin\xc3\xa9 as something abstract! Harilek, I\xe2\x80\x99m ashamed of\r\nyou for even thinking such a thing.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI didn\xe2\x80\x99t. I only said Forsyth ought to.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd why ought he to?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause he\xe2\x80\x99s like the rest of us--mere wanderers--here to-day and gone\r\nto-morrow.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps you won\xe2\x80\x99t go. Perhaps your camels will die or something, and\r\nyou\xe2\x80\x99ll have to spend your lives here without any nice looking-glasses\r\nor that funny stuff that you smoke, and have to wear Sakae clothes for\r\nthe rest of your lives.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I should jolly well walk across the desert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s not polite, since I live here. You ought to say you would be\r\nvery glad if something kept you here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI shouldn\xe2\x80\x99t be glad if something kept me here. Things don\xe2\x80\x99t make\r\nup life: people do. Possibly if some one kept me here it might be\r\ndifferent.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s pony shied at nothing as far as I could see, and it took\r\nher a minute or two to get him under control again, by which time she\r\nseemed to have lost the thread, and got back to the question of the\r\ndoctor.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think that Forsyth would not mind much if the camels died, anyway.\r\nHe wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t suggest walking across the desert.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; I suppose he wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t. But what makes you say that?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause I\xe2\x80\x99ve got two good eyes and two good ears and a brain behind\r\nthem.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou have, Aryenis: remarkably nice ears and particularly nice eyes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s the first compliment I\xe2\x80\x99ve had from you for over a week. What\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhappening?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNothing. Only I\xe2\x80\x99ve not seen so much of them of late. I suppose they\r\nstrike one the more in consequence.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLike your compliments.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you like compliments?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat woman doesn\xe2\x80\x99t? Of course, I like compliments. That\xe2\x80\x99s why I love\r\ngoing to see Paulos.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoes he give you lots of them?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; but his old archer servant does.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI felt properly crushed at being referred to in the same breath with\r\nthe chipped, old, weathered block of wood that had helped me so\r\ndoubtfully with my new gear. I shifted the ground of debate.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what have your eyes and ears told you that makes you think the\r\ndoctor wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t worry if the camels died?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat he thinks Zin\xc3\xa9 matters much more than camels.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd does Zin\xc3\xa9 think that he matters?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe may. But then Zin\xc3\xa9 often considers that men are worth thinking\r\nabout, which is very stupid, as I am always telling her.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen you don\xe2\x80\x99t consider that they are worth worrying over?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot in the least. They\xe2\x80\x99re useful sometimes when you want things done\r\nfor you--that\xe2\x80\x99s all. But as for wasting time and energy worrying about\r\nthem as Zin\xc3\xa9 does, Heavens, no!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOr tangling your thoughts over them?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThat shaft went home, I could see. I was sorry for Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s pony, for\r\nthe Sakae snaffles are rather jagged, and their stirrups, which they\r\nuse as spurs, over-sharp. The simultaneous application of both stirrup\r\nand bit must be uncomfortable to a spirited mount.\r\n\r\nSo I didn\xe2\x80\x99t take much count of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s over-emphasized statement,\r\nmade with her chin well in the air:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs if I would ever tangle my thoughts over things like that!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPerhaps you don\xe2\x80\x99t tangle them. Perhaps the fairy prince without the\r\nmarks tangles them for you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, you\xe2\x80\x99ve got a big enough mark across your cheek to prevent\r\nyou ever playing that part,\xe2\x80\x9d she retorted, looking ruthlessly at my\r\nface, which, as Forsyth said it would be, was embellished with a very\r\nangry-looking gash.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cStill, as you said, it serves to remind me of what I saw in the gate,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nI said, equally ruthlessly as I looked back at her.\r\n\r\nMy lady seemed to have no answer to that, and we rode into the palace\r\ngate in silence.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXI\r\n\r\nI AM GIVEN A FOLLOWING\r\n\r\n\r\nThe road to Aornos was bright in the November sunshine, and the light\r\nbreeze rustled the falling leaves which dropped, russet-brown, from the\r\ntrees bordering the road above the water-channels: glinting, rippling,\r\nsun-flecked water, splashed with patches of vivid turquoise from the\r\nwhite-flecked blue sky overhead.\r\n\r\nWe were riding into Aornos to meet the rest of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s troops,\r\nconcentrated there to march into the Shaman country. There were daily\r\nreports from the frontier of enemy concentrations, the majority of them\r\nto the south in the country beyond Henga\xe2\x80\x99s fort; but so far there had\r\nbeen no sign of any general offensive movement, and it was considered\r\nthat the frontier troops, strengthened by the levies of the border\r\ndistricts, would be quite sufficient to stop any advance the enemy\r\nmight try to make.\r\n\r\nThe scene was medi\xc3\xa6val in the extreme, and yet had that sameness which\r\nmust have characterized all bodies of troops since the first leader\r\nconceived some idea of discipline, and man began to fight in formed\r\ngroups rather than in primeval fashion, individual against individual,\r\nwith rough-chipped flint and sharpened bone.\r\n\r\nAhead of the column moved a body of mail-clad mounted men, their long\r\nyellow bows swaying as they rode. Mounted fighting is uncommon among\r\nthe Sakae, whose horses are but a means of extra mobility. Mounted or\r\non foot, the equipment is ever the same, all designed for dismounted\r\ncombat: the long bow, carried slung from the shoulder, the point\r\nsupported in a stirrup bucket for mounted men; the well-filled leather\r\nquivers with the long gay-coloured shafts; the short straight Sakae\r\nsword designed for point-work, more deadly than any cut; and sometimes\r\nthe small round shield with its bosses of brass. One man in three\r\ncarried the short spear.\r\n\r\nAt the head of the main body was Kyrlos, with Andros on one hand\r\nand Wrexham on the other, all alike in mail shirt and under-jerkin\r\nof leather, steel caps winking in the sun, the gay-coloured saddles\r\nforming the only splash of colour that relieved the sombre background\r\nof fawn and leather and dull steel, save where a few paces in front of\r\nKyrlos rose his blue standard with his family device, the big chenar\r\nleaf in autumn tint that Forsyth always said made him homesick for the\r\nmaple of Canada. Behind them the long column of men three abreast:\r\nfirst mounted men, and then, as far as the eye could reach, company\r\nafter company of footmen, with glint of steel spear-point and nodding\r\nbow-tip topping the low dust haze.\r\n\r\nI was riding in silence, with mixed feelings of relief at being on\r\nthe move once more with definite work in front, a great longing for\r\nthe open desert and the silent plodding camels, and a very bitter\r\nimpression that Fate had played the most deliberate of scurvy tricks in\r\never bringing me to Sakaeland.\r\n\r\nFor as Andros turned sometimes in his saddle to cast an eye down the\r\nranks, I could see the little tuft of eagle feathers bound into his\r\nsteel cap, the eagle feathers that marked the officer of high rank,\r\nand--which was the cause of all my ill-humour--note the mauve binding\r\nthat spread them cunningly into a little fan. The day before I had seen\r\nAryenis with a handful of eagle feathers, and later, looking out from\r\nmy window, noticed her sitting in the sun with her embroidery-basket by\r\nher--she has clever fingers. My field-glasses were near me, and such\r\nan opportunity of watching my lady unobserved was not to be missed. I\r\nlove watching Aryenis when she thinks there is no one looking at her,\r\nfor her under-self seems to come so much more to the surface then. But\r\nunfortunately my glasses had merely served to show me that those eagle\r\nfeathers were being formed with mauve ribbon and green silk into some\r\nkind of ornament; and then in the morning, lo, Andros with the little\r\nfanlike plume gay against the dark coldness of his steel cap.\r\n\r\nAnd all I got from Aryenis was a long cool hand-clasp with a kind wish\r\nfor my safety and much honour. Annais and Zin\xc3\xa9 gave me as much.\r\n\r\nJust in front of me rode a yellow-haired giant on a white pony, who\r\ncarried a green banner with an embroidered device, a bear, Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s own\r\nmark. As I looked back--despite my ill-humour--I could have smiled at\r\nthe idea of me, Harry Lake, with many years of soldiering and six years\r\nof war, as the modern world knows it, behind me, war of machine-gun\r\nand rifle, of heavy howitzer and aeroplane bomb, of tank and armoured\r\ncar, riding with a following that might have come straight out of the\r\npages of an old history book. Steel-capped, mail-shirted men on rough\r\nponies, tall, bobbed-haired, hawk-faced bowmen in leather jerkins,\r\nnodding spear-points and dancing gleam of mail-ringed caps; and\r\nbehind me, with my trumpeter, Payindah in mail with his anachronistic\r\nmagazine-rifle slung over his shoulder, his straight Greek features and\r\nhis wheat-coloured face alive with the joy of coming battle.\r\n\r\nFor here was I riding at the head of what was for the moment my own\r\nfollowing, and the banner ahead bore almost my own crest, save that the\r\nbear on my signet ring carries a chain.\r\n\r\nAnd the reason of my position was a note which Paulos had sent me the\r\nday after I had listened to him thought-reading, bidding me come again\r\nand see him quickly, for he desired me to help him in a small matter. I\r\ntold Aryenis, but my lady had found important matters which prevented\r\nher coming, despite her insistence the previous day.\r\n\r\nThe upshot of my visit was his wish that I should lead the men from\r\nhis lands to the war, since he had no son to lead them and no man of\r\nsufficient standing among his following to whom he could entrust the\r\ncommand. I pleaded my ignorance of Sakae, my lack of knowledge of their\r\ncustoms and their methods of war, and the fact that I was a stranger in\r\nthe country. He would take no refusal.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRegarding the matter of the language,\xe2\x80\x9d he had said, \xe2\x80\x9cthe officers and\r\nsome of the N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s speak Greek. For the matter of our methods of war,\r\nthere is to my mind but one kind of war--no matter what the weapons be.\r\nAt the last it is the man who is ready to close and anxious to kill who\r\nwins. From a leader all we seek is bravery and the knowledge of men.\r\nThe first you have, or Aryenis would not be here now. The second you\r\nhave also, unless I have lost my gift of character-reading. And for the\r\nfact of your being a stranger--that you are not. Your name is known in\r\nall my villages. Such things do not depend upon time, but upon deeds;\r\nand my people--who love Aryenis--speak of you as one of ourselves. My\r\nfolk will follow you for her sake as well as for your own.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe coincidence of the device on his banner and the friendly reception\r\nI had met with from his landholders, who officered the levies which he\r\nsent to the war, clinched the matter, and so you see me with thirty\r\nmail-clad mounted men and four companies of stout bowmen, each eighty\r\nor ninety strong, riding into Aornos near the head of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s army.\r\n\r\nI had spent very near a fortnight with Paulos, getting to know the\r\nofficers and the levies and picking up details about their methods.\r\nThey were stout fighting material--sturdy peasantry, ready at all costs\r\nto defend their homes and their women from the Shaman menace. I have\r\ngone to war with many worse, but never, I think, with any better, and I\r\nhave led good men upon occasion.\r\n\r\nLooking back, I called up Payindah.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe be back in the days of the Emperors,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, pointing to the men\r\nbehind us. \xe2\x80\x9cBows and arrows, men in mail, just the same as thy folk\r\nwhen first they came over the passes into the Punjab.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd good days to be in, sahib. This is a man\xe2\x80\x99s war--man to man--not\r\na killing by guns a day\xe2\x80\x99s march away, or fighting like rats in a hole\r\nunderground. These men of the old sick chief\xe2\x80\x99s are good fighting stuff,\r\ntoo. _I_ know such when I see them.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPayindah first, last, and all the time is a fighting man, and like all\r\nhis folk of the Salt Range will be so as long as his finger can press\r\ntrigger or his arm retain strength to drive a bayonet home. At his belt\r\nhung a new possession which he fondled now and then. It was a bayonet\r\nmade under Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s supervision by Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s smiths, rather more\r\nornate than the ordinary G.S. pattern, but none the less a serviceable\r\npiece of steel. There are good armourers among the Sakae. Payindah\r\nis a believer in the cold steel, and the idea of going out to war\r\nwithout a bayonet--a weapon he had used notably well more than once in\r\nFrance--was heavy upon his soul, and he had gone to Wrexham begging him\r\nto have one made. His first appearance with it on his rifle had caused\r\nquite an excitement among his friends of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s guard when he gave\r\nthem a little demonstration of its use.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou will be fortunate in this war,\xe2\x80\x9d he went on, \xe2\x80\x9csince you ride with\r\nthe banner of your own folk, just the same as over the gate of your\r\nhouse in England, which I saw when I was at the convalescent hospital\r\nat Berighton, and you took me to your home one day in a motor when you\r\ncame on leave.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhy shall I be fortunate?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause the bear shows that you must be in some way the same folk\r\nas the old chief, and he has no son and much rich land. He will be\r\nglad to find a son in his old age. And also\xe2\x80\x9d--very deliberately--\xe2\x80\x9ca\r\ndaughter-in-law like the Shahzadi.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI think Payindah only escaped a sudden violent death after that remark\r\nby his falling back to make place for Philos, my second in command, who\r\ncame up to tell me about quartering arrangements in Aornos. A little\r\nway back he had fallen out at a side road, where his wife--a very\r\npretty girl on a handsome black mare--was waiting to bid him good-bye.\r\nA mounted servant beside her carried, on his saddle bow, the bonniest\r\nblue-eyed flaxen-haired boy of about three that I have ever seen. As I\r\nhad ridden on after a word with the girl, whom I had met while staying\r\nwith Paulos, I had felt very, very lonely. And yet I have gone to war\r\ntwo or three times before and never felt lonely at going.\r\n\r\nA little later we rode through Aornos and out of the south gate to\r\nthe open grass land beyond, now covered with the tents and standards\r\nof the Blue Sakae army. I saw my people fix up camp--Philos proved a\r\nfirst-class quartermaster as well as a very capable leader--and then,\r\nwith Payindah and a couple of my archers behind me, rode up to Torka\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhouse, where Kyrlos and his staff--including Wrexham and Forsyth--were\r\nlodging.\r\n\r\nNext morning very early I rode down to my people\xe2\x80\x99s camp. Behind me\r\nwere two mounted archers of my personal troop, loose-stirruped, their\r\nkeen eyes seeking out the prettiest of the girls already afoot for the\r\nmorning marketing. We had just reached our camp where the sentries\r\nstood on either side of Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s banner, which, furled in leather,\r\nstood before our guard tent, when from up the road in front in a cloud\r\nof dust came a single horseman.\r\n\r\nI pulled up to see who was riding so fast and what tidings he bore,\r\nfor the previous evening a messenger from Henga had reported increased\r\nsigns of enemy activity, and a mounted patrol pushing across the border\r\nhad been driven back by enemy horsemen only two miles from the fort,\r\nwhile a spy--believed trustworthy--had reported that the main enemy\r\nforce were within easy march of the border. So I thought there would\r\npossibly be news. Philos, standing near the guard tent checking sheafs\r\nof arrows, bales of forage, and other gear, seeing me, came over.\r\n\r\nMy archers shouted, and the horseman pulled up as he reached us, his\r\npony, with legs well out and hanging head, breathing heavily through\r\nwide-stretched nostrils. The morning was cold, with a nip of frost\r\nin the air, but the animal was lathered with sweat and his legs were\r\ncaked with mud, while there was blood oozing from a long gash across\r\nhis quarters. Philos questioned the man, who was pulling out a folded\r\npaper from inside his jerkin. Then he turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA letter from Henga. The enemy\xe2\x80\x99s main army marched before daybreak,\r\nand the dawn saw them close on his fort. This man and another were sent\r\nwith news at once, and even as they left, the enemy were closing in on\r\nthe fort. He says that their horsemen were well into our country, and\r\nthat his comrade was killed as they broke through, while he himself had\r\nhis horse wounded. A big force, and from the hills after he crossed\r\nthe Astara he saw them sweeping on past the fort, with villages ablaze\r\nalready. We had better get under arms, for Kyrlos will surely move at\r\nonce. Shall I sound a call?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Philos. Turn the men out, and get everything ready for moving in\r\nan hour\xe2\x80\x99s time. I will take this letter to Kyrlos myself.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI had torn open the letter while he was questioning the man; but\r\nalthough in Greek characters it was evidently in Sakae, for I could\r\nmake neither head nor tail of it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGive the messenger food and have his horse seen to. I will be back at\r\nonce,\xe2\x80\x9d I said as I gathered up my reins, and, with my archers behind\r\nme--now all suppressed excitement and with no eyes left for the scared\r\ngirls who edged off the road as we came tearing along--went back full\r\nspeed to the city.\r\n\r\nAs we clattered through the big gates one of my orderlies shouted\r\nsomething to the sentry, and looking back I saw the guard tumbling out\r\nof their quarters. A minute later a thin wisp of smoke went up from\r\nthe guard-house above the gate, a wisp which before long thickened to\r\na dense black pillar, signal to the countryside that the enemy were\r\nmoving. We came up the main street at a hard gallop, the pedestrians\r\nscuttling to either side at the scurry of hoofs and the shouts of my\r\nmen, swung to the left up to the keep, and pulled up before the main\r\nentrance. I flung my reins to one of the men, and ran up the steps to\r\nfind Kyrlos talking to Torka and Andros in the main hall. As he read\r\nthe letter, I hurriedly explained the situation to Andros.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe must march at once,\xe2\x80\x9d said Kyrlos. \xe2\x80\x9cBut they have many hours\xe2\x80\x99 start\r\nof us, unfortunately. They can be eight or nine miles into our country\r\nbefore we can hope to meet them. Henga estimates them at not less than\r\nsix thousand to seven thousand, and there will be more behind if this\r\nis their main force. How soon can we move, Andros?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI gave orders yesterday for the troops to be ready to move at three\r\nhours\xe2\x80\x99 notice, sir. Did you warn the camp, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d He turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; Philos sounded a horn as I came away, and the men were turning\r\nout. I told my people to be ready in an hour.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen we can be away within the three hours, sir. Milos\xe2\x80\x99s mounted\r\ntroops under Stephnos must go first, and find out in which direction\r\nthe enemy are heading, and then get news back to meet us along the main\r\nroad. He may meet them anywhere after the sixth mile out.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBy this time the alarm was sounding all round, and outside the\r\ncourtyard was filling with horses as mounted man after mounted man\r\ncame clattering in seeking orders from Andros. I have never seen such\r\ngood methodical staff work outside a modern force. I could almost\r\nforgive Andros his plume of mauve-bound eagle feathers as I listened\r\nto his quick, incisive orders given in a cool, level tone, and watched\r\nmessenger after messenger race down the steps, swing into the saddle,\r\nand away out of the gates. The man was not only a born soldier--he was\r\nthat far rarer being, a born staff officer.\r\n\r\nI went up to our quarters, and calling Payindah told him to come with\r\nme, leaving my kit to follow with a couple of my men. Wrexham and\r\nForsyth were nowhere to be seen. The latter had gone off with Stephnos,\r\nwho had a job in which his heart delighted--to wit, the command of\r\nMilos\xe2\x80\x99s own mounted troops. Firoz said that Wrexham had ridden off\r\nearly with one of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s officers who ran the engineers. John took\r\na keen interest in their weird contraptions, portable catapults, and\r\nendless medi\xc3\xa6val contrivances for siege-work, more particularly in the\r\nquaint battering-ram, a huge iron-shod tree--the trunk of a full-grown\r\npine, I think, it was--that took twenty men to swing it. Despite his\r\nearly training and his civil avocation, Wrexham is at heart a soldier,\r\nand nothing pleased him more than pottering round and comparing notes\r\nwith the old scarred man who filled the post of what one might call\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMaster of the Ordnance\xe2\x80\x9d to Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s army.\r\n\r\nWhen I got back to the hall, Payindah with the rifles following, Andros\r\nhailed me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou say you told your people to be ready to move in an hour, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI did, Andros. Do you want us to go ahead?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou muster nearly four hundred, do you not?\xe2\x80\x9d He was a wonder at\r\nremembering figures.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, that\xe2\x80\x99s too weak to do much by yourselves, but, if you get off\r\nin an hour, Stephnos will be through you half an hour later--say, two\r\nmiles out--and then following him you will be something for him to come\r\nback on if he\xe2\x80\x99s driven in. Do you know that little hill by the eighth\r\nmile that commands the road?--the one we looked at yesterday.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. We had ridden out there the previous day, and remarked\r\non its possibilities for defence.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, make for that as fast as you can go. If you can get there before\r\nthe enemy, you will be able to hold them awhile--perhaps until we can\r\nget up to you. In any case you will delay them. I know all Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s men\r\nare good bowmen, for he is always making his people practise. We come\r\nas fast as we can.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRight. I shall be away in little over half an hour.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nKyrlos was listening to it all, nodding gravely from time to time. As I\r\nturned to go, he called to me, and walked across the hall to the door.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAndros has given you a post of honour, my friend. You will meet the\r\nShamans\xe2\x80\x99 main onslaught, and you will have to fight as hard as you\r\nhave ever fought in your life, I think. But it is the only place they\r\ncan pass just there, and if you hold them till we come, it will be so\r\nmany the more of our villages and our people saved. It seems unfair to\r\nput a guest in the post of danger, but, since you ride at the head of\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s men and by so doing become one of us, I am glad that Andros\r\nhas suggested you for such a very honourable task. If you come through,\r\nyou will have even more honour among our people than you have already.\r\nGod guard you, Harilek.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe smiled very gravely at me as I touched my cap to him and went down\r\nthe steps.\r\n\r\nPayindah was already mounted alongside of my other two men, and a\r\nquarter of an hour later we were riding hard up to our camp. Paulos had\r\nhad his men well trained for all that they were mostly only levies. The\r\nmounted troop were standing by their horses, and the infantry falling\r\nin as we reached them. A small party had been detailed to clear up camp\r\nand come on with our pack-animals behind the main body.\r\n\r\nI explained our mission to Philos and the other officers, and they said\r\na few words to the men. Fifteen minutes later, with our mounted men\r\nahead and on either flank, we marched down the road to the southwest.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhere go we?\xe2\x80\x9d asked Payindah, pushing his horse up beside me. \xe2\x80\x9cIs it\r\nanother raid?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot this time. The whole enemy\xe2\x80\x99s army comes--several thousand--and we\r\ngo out as advance guard to hold them until the rest can come up. You\r\nwill have all the fighting you want before the day is out.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey choose well,\xe2\x80\x9d said he coolly, \xe2\x80\x9cto send you and me and this\r\nregiment, which carries your mark. I shall have something to tell Firoz\r\nto-night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI wondered for a moment if he would tell Firoz anything at all that\r\nnight or any other night. Unless we got to the defile in time, the\r\nenemy\xe2\x80\x99s mounted men would be round us long before our main body could\r\never hope to get up, and then sheer weight of numbers would do the\r\nrest. Anyway, Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s banner would get all the honour he desired for\r\nit and I should not have to worry any more about Aryenis and fairy\r\nprinces or dragons. But I hoped that she and I would meet again some\r\nday, whatever happened--somewhere where people\xe2\x80\x99s thoughts didn\xe2\x80\x99t get\r\ntangled up and things ran smoothly. And then, as ever, she walked\r\nin, and took possession of the mind that used to be mine, and it was\r\na moment or two before I could dislodge her and return to military\r\ncommonplaces with Philos.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXII\r\n\r\nTHE ASTARA DEFILE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe dusty white road slipped away behind us, four steady miles to the\r\nhour. Somewhere about the third mile I heard shouting behind me, and my\r\nmen swung to one side as Stephnos came up and passed us with some one\r\nhundred and fifty mounted men. He checked to speak to me a moment, and\r\nI saw Forsyth riding with him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, Harry, we\xe2\x80\x99ve struck it this time. You\xe2\x80\x99ve got a nice-looking\r\ncrowd there, and Stephnos tells me you\xe2\x80\x99ll want them all soon.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat are you doing along with Stephnos? You ought to be waiting to\r\npatch up the wounded behind.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThink I\xe2\x80\x99m going to sit behind while you and John have all the fun,\r\nand be the only one of us three that hasn\xe2\x80\x99t seen a battle-fight in\r\nSakaeland? Not much. You two have had all the luck so far, but it\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmy shift to-day. I\xe2\x80\x99m going to forget I\xe2\x80\x99m a doctor, and go and see the\r\nbeano close in for once instead of sitting down to be shelled without\r\nbeing able to hit back. However, this is a gentlemanly country, and\r\nthey have no guns.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhere\xe2\x80\x99s John?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked, as Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s troops shook out into\r\nreconnoitring formation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWay behind with Kyrlos. Wanted to come up and join you, but Kyrlos\r\nsaid he wasn\xe2\x80\x99t going to have all his three guests out of his sight at\r\nonce, so John is more or less tied to the old man\xe2\x80\x99s saddle, cursing\r\nlike a trooper because they\xe2\x80\x99re so slow getting under way. Well, there\r\ngoes Stephnos; I\xe2\x80\x99m off. See you later, Harry.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd the next moment he was cantering up the road after the tail of\r\nStephnos\xe2\x80\x99s column.\r\n\r\nWe were in sight of the hills and the defile that I wanted to reach\r\nbefore we came on the first sign of the enemy, who had evidently not\r\nbeen so fast as we expected. We marched through a little hamlet, and in\r\nthe middle of it were some dead men--Brown Sakae, Philos said--and two\r\nwounded horsemen of Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s troop sitting on the roadside talking to\r\nthe villagers. Both sides had reached the place simultaneously, and the\r\nscuffle which followed had ended in the enemy bolting back.\r\n\r\nWe reached the defile, and I breathed a sigh of relief at this\r\nunexpected good fortune. Halting my column, I rode up with Philos to\r\nthe top of the hill on the right, and there in front of me was the\r\nenemy force--not an inspiriting sight in view of our numbers. They were\r\nabout two miles away, long low dust columns, and behind them the smoke\r\nof burning ricks and thatch. Closer to us were parties of mounted men,\r\nand perhaps a mile ahead in three parties Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s little force.\r\nLooking through my glasses, I saw one of his troops chasing back an\r\nenemy party. As Wrexham had said, Master Stephnos was a thruster all\r\nright.\r\n\r\nWe had won by a short neck, and the next thing was to get into position\r\nas quickly as possible.\r\n\r\nJust at this point the Astara, quite unfordable, closes in on to the\r\nroad from the left as you look toward the Shaman country. At the point\r\nwhere we were it was not more than three hundred yards from the road,\r\nand behind us it swerved out in a wide curve southeastward. About\r\nhalf a mile in front it was joined by a sluggish stream running in a\r\nmarshy depression, which curved round our right flank toward the hills.\r\nBetween the marshy stream and the main road was the hillock we were\r\nstanding on, perhaps two hundred yards long and one hundred and fifty\r\nfeet high, while on the opposite side, between the road and the river,\r\nwas a lower, smaller hill.\r\n\r\nIt was an ideal position for a small force to delay an enemy, since our\r\nleft flank was absolutely secure, so long as we held the lesser height,\r\nwhile the approach across the stream and marshland on our right was\r\nanything but easy. All around the bigger hill, about halfway up, ran a\r\nthick thorn hedge enclosing an orchard. The smaller hill had on the\r\nforward slope two or three mud buildings and a small stone wall, which\r\nwould give some cover to the defenders.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe stand here,\xe2\x80\x9d I said to Philos. \xe2\x80\x9cOne company on the small hill, two\r\ncompanies on this one, with our right extending down toward the marsh.\r\nThe fourth company and the mounted men will be behind us as the reserve\r\nunder you. I shall be up here. It will be a fight in which we must make\r\nthe most of our shooting and try to prevent them closing, since once\r\nthey close their extra numbers will tell.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe company commanders had followed us up, and I explained what I\r\nwanted. The small hill I gave to a young cousin of Philos, who seemed\r\na steady, determined youth. The mounted archers had been drawn in, so\r\nI sent for two of the Greek-speaking N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s, and kept them by me as\r\nmessengers and interpreters.\r\n\r\nWithin ten minutes the men were in their places, and I did a hurried\r\nwalk round. They were all very quiet and resolute-looking: big bows\r\nstrung and quivers forward, while many of them had arrows stuck upright\r\nin the ground in front of them or laid on top of the wall. I said a few\r\nwords to the officers, emphasizing the importance of holding on and\r\nmaking the most of our position and our bows.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNever fear,\xe2\x80\x9d said Philos\xe2\x80\x99s cousin. \xe2\x80\x9cWe hold here as long as there is a\r\nman to draw bow. Our homes are but a few miles behind, and our women,\r\nand we and they know the Shamans. They will pass this only over our\r\nbodies.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI climbed back to my post on the higher hill, and told off Payindah to\r\nmark the little bridge some eight hundred yards away, where the road\r\ncrossed the smaller stream. Some rapid fire on that would check the\r\nenemy\xe2\x80\x99s first efforts to cross, and time was everything. I intended to\r\nlend him a hand myself in the opening moves.\r\n\r\nOur preparations were only just completed when we saw Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmounted men coming back, pursued by considerably greater numbers. I\r\nthought at first they would come straight back on to us, but instead of\r\nthat they swung out to our right on the farther side of the stream,\r\nand the fight followed them beyond the marshes. There was a narrow\r\nstrip of firm ground there about a mile from us, and when Stephnos had\r\ngot the leading enemy bogged, his men took to their bows and dealt with\r\nthem. For his age the lad was a cool-headed leader.\r\n\r\nThen the enemy advanced on us--a body of mounted men in front--and as\r\nthe first of them reached the bridge Payindah and I opened fire. The\r\nrange was longish, but we knocked over several as they checked in a\r\nmass at the crossing. Our men cheered and shouted at seeing the foe\r\nstruck down at such an undreamt-of range, and the enemy were evidently\r\ndisconcerted. But at that distance with only two rifles the effect was\r\nbut momentary, and before long they were streaming over the bridge and\r\nmoving up toward us. I told Payindah to spend his time picking off any\r\none that looked like a leader, and then I stood up as the first formed\r\nmass of the enemy approached. We let them come to well within the\r\nhundred yards before our bowmen let drive, and the first attack just\r\nmelted away in swathes of stricken men, very few getting within twenty\r\nyards, while such as reached us--all men with good mail--were dealt\r\nwith, while they tried to call on their fellows or tore at the hedge in\r\ntheir efforts to get through. They had not supported their attack with\r\narrows, and as a result we had hardly any casualties at all.\r\n\r\nAs the survivors drew off discomfited, parties of my men rushed out to\r\ngather up arrows, and I fear upon occasion to finish off some of the\r\nwounded. We had a little difficulty in getting them back again, and I\r\nwent round again to impress once more on the officers the importance of\r\nnot letting their men get out of hand.\r\n\r\nThen the enemy came on again, and this time, profiting by experience,\r\nsupported their attack with showers of arrows from bowmen on the\r\nflanks, and we began to lose men, though the shooting was not too good,\r\nand our people had fair cover. We beat them back a second time, but\r\nthere were many gaps in our ranks now, and the orchard was sprinkled\r\nwith dead and wounded men; while in one place a wild Shaman rush\r\nsecured a momentary lodgment inside our defences, and was only killed\r\nout by a quick rush of the reserve. While we were filling up our\r\nranks and getting ready for their next onslaught, I blessed Philos\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nforethought that had brought along the spare sheaves of arrows. We\r\nshould want them all soon.\r\n\r\nSo far the enemy\xe2\x80\x99s main attention had been directed to us, though there\r\nwas some brisk work on the lower hill. But the next time they left us\r\nalone, massing heavily against the little hill, sweeping up in wave\r\nafter wave of shouting men. They carried the wall and pushed on to the\r\nbuilding, and for some minutes there was close hand-to-hand fighting.\r\nThen the enemy swayed back again as the company reserve rushed in, and\r\nthey were slowly pushed backward down the hill, till the last of them\r\nturned and fled down to the bottom again.\r\n\r\nI seized the moment\xe2\x80\x99s respite to run across and see how things were.\r\nOver half that company were out of action, and Philos\xe2\x80\x99s cousin,\r\nbleeding from a knife gash in the left arm, was closing his men back\r\nto a smaller circle around the huts, some of which he had hurriedly\r\nloopholed for his bowmen.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey pressed us hard that time,\xe2\x80\x9d he panted, as he tied up the cut on\r\nhis arm. \xe2\x80\x9cI thought they would drive us down. I doubt our standing\r\nanother charge like that. See, many of my men are dead, and more are\r\nbadly hurt.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou must hold on somehow. I will send you thirty men from Philos\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ncompany, which is all I can spare.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs I returned to my position I could see the enemy massing anew in\r\nstill greater strength, as the main body pressed up the road toward the\r\nbridge. I told Philos to send thirty of his men over to his cousin, and\r\nthey got there just as the enemy advanced once more.\r\n\r\nThis time they attacked us both, broke through into our orchard, and\r\nonce again swept right over the defences of the lower hill. We took\r\nheavy toll of them as they came up the steep slope, but they did not\r\nlack courage, and the gaps in the lines filled as fast as they were\r\nmade, while their arrows slowly but steadily wore down our weak force.\r\nTwice we drove them back out of the orchard, and twice they pushed\r\ntheir way in again. The third time they drove us back to the very\r\ncrest, and only the reserve under Philos saved us being cleared right\r\noff the hilltop. The green hillside was strewn with bodies, and every\r\nnow and then a wild rush of shouting men would surge in, with scurry\r\nof steel, and the low dull sound of blows, shouts of slayers, and cry\r\nof wounded, though for the most part the Blue Sakae fought in silence,\r\nfighting like trapped wolves.\r\n\r\nWe beat them out once more, and Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s rifle was hot and the\r\nwoodwork oily, and his beloved bayonet red to the haft. As they drew\r\noff I looked around. On the lower hill the fight raged round the huts,\r\nand the whole hill was massed with the enemy. On our side we had no\r\nlonger men to hold the orchard hedge, and had to draw back to positions\r\nnearer the crest. To the right the enemy had found ways through the\r\nmarshland, and driven up our men below, while my thirty mounted men had\r\ncome up the hill, picketed their ponies behind, and were standing just\r\nunder the crest waiting for orders.\r\n\r\nStill farther out to the right, Stephnos was heavily out-numbered, and\r\nI could see him withdrawing toward us, disputing every inch of cover\r\nwhere his men dismounted and fought awhile with the bow, galloping off\r\nonce more as the enemy closed, to dismount again and renew the fight at\r\nthe next point that offered cover.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is finished,\xe2\x80\x9d said Philos, pointing to the lower hill. \xe2\x80\x9cSee, the\r\nenemy have swept right over it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, but the huts still hold,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, looking through my glasses. \xe2\x80\x9cI\r\ncan see the enemy still being shot down with arrows. Your cousin has\r\ndrawn the rest of his men into the buildings and still holds out. But\r\nthe road is open behind us now, and we shall be surrounded in a little\r\nwhile. Send a reliable man to tell Stephnos how we stand. If he is\r\ngoing to join us, he must do so now. Otherwise it will be too late.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey come!\xe2\x80\x9d shouted Payindah, pointing back down the Aornos road.\r\n\r\nThe men around did not understand him, but they caught his meaning, as\r\nlooking back we saw, about two miles away, the low long dust-cloud that\r\nshows marching troops, and a low cheer went up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHalf an hour more, Philos,\xe2\x80\x9d said I. \xe2\x80\x9cWe shall be hard put to it to\r\nhold that time.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd my messenger is killed. See, the enemy is thick between us and\r\nStephnos. He will have to draw off to the rearward. We fight this out\r\nalone. The enemy on the lower hill have seen the dust. Hark, how they\r\nshout and call to those behind. They will attack us now with all their\r\nstrength to get the hills ere Kyrlos comes, so that the rest of their\r\npeople may cross the river. Lo, they come now!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHis orders rang out, and our worn lines stiffened again as the enemy\r\nadvanced up the hill once more, dense masses of closely packed men,\r\nand their arrows rained on us anew. My second orderly, standing behind\r\nme, gave a choked sob as an arrow tore into his throat, and he reeled\r\nbackward, the light breaking in his eyes.\r\n\r\nBut Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s men held steady, and there was neither shouting nor\r\ncheering, only the harsh cries of the N.C.O.\xe2\x80\x99s bidding them shoot\r\nsteady and all together. For a space we held the attackers off, but\r\never the pressure increased as they drove upon us again and again, till\r\nfinally they forced us from our last cover out on to the open hilltop,\r\nwhere my little reserve of mounted men were already busy loosing arrows\r\nagainst the enemy now massing behind us.\r\n\r\nWe flung back our flanks to complete a circle, and then they swarmed\r\nupon us from all sides, and we fought in a close-packed ring as with\r\na last endeavour they sought to dislodge us before our main army, now\r\nclear to view, gleam of spear-point and glint of mail in the dust,\r\ncould reach the hills.\r\n\r\nThey broke into our ring, and we beat them out once, fighting hard\r\nin silence. There was no more chance for the long bows, and men\r\nfought with sword or knife or heavy axe, and here and there, in stark\r\nprimeval fashion, with tooth and clutching hand. Then a last rush\r\nbroke into our centre, and the fight swayed and split as my little\r\ntroop was carried right over the hilltop in a stabbing, spitting\r\nrush of savage men in Shaman mail, and Brown Sakae wadded felt or\r\nsheepskin. My standard-bearer, most of my mounted men, Payindah,\r\nPhilos, and a handful of his own company--we checked them once again,\r\nand found our feet; and, looking backward, I saw our leading troops\r\nvery near, and below us enemy pouring past to try and check their\r\nonslaught while those above finished us. In they came again, while\r\nbeyond us--close-packed--some forty of my men fought in a little ring\r\nof trees, while Shamans and Brown Sakae surged about them like a pack\r\naround a bayed boar.\r\n\r\nPhilos--just in front of me--sent his sword home in the throat of a\r\nmail-clad Shaman, and as he did so was beaten down by an axe-blow over\r\nthe head. My last pistol bullet settled the axeman as I sprang in over\r\nPhilos, Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s blade in my hand. I thanked my stars then for my\r\nearly-fostered taste for swordsmanship, for there was no time to reload.\r\n\r\nA long-haired, long-moustached man, with a face like a bird of prey,\r\nleapt in at me with others on either hand, while behind them more\r\ndim figures surged up. His long knife came sweeping up from below,\r\nbut I caught it in time with the low parry my old _ma\xc3\xaetre d\xe2\x80\x99armes_\r\nused to rub into me when I was a lad in France, and the instinctive\r\nriposte drove in below the man\xe2\x80\x99s belt, and he swayed over sideways,\r\nnearly wrenching my sword from my hand. A spear rang home on my\r\nchest, knocking me sideways as I freed my blade, and then I realized\r\nPayindah\xe2\x80\x99s presence as his rifle spoke almost in my ear, and the owner\r\nof the spear went down in a huddled mass.\r\n\r\nThe enemy checked a second then, and I saw that Philos moved and tried\r\nto raise himself, and the absence of any heavy flow of blood about his\r\nhead made me think he was only stunned. Then in they surged anew, and\r\nfor a breathless instant I fought for my life with a mail-shirted,\r\nclean-shaven Shaman, with an expressionless face and the mouth of a\r\nfiend, and eyes that seemed made of yellow jade. Once he nearly got\r\nhome with a thrust that I parried only just in time, and the riposte\r\nwas too slow, for he jumped out and in again like a wild-cat. But,\r\nas he came on the second time, I caught him in the throat with the\r\nlong, straight-armed _coup d\xe2\x80\x99arr\xc3\xaat_, and my point stood out a clear\r\nthree inches behind his neck muscles as his expressionless eyes rolled\r\nupward, and he sank a dead weight on my sword. Then a tearing hot pain\r\nin my right thigh brought me to the ground as my leg was swept from\r\nunder me by a spear with a greasy sheep-skin-coated ruffian at the\r\nother end.\r\n\r\nMy jade-eyed man and I came down in a heap over Philos, who was trying\r\nto get to his feet again, and there was another sickening wrench as the\r\ngreasy man dragged his spear-point clear for a final thrust. Luckily\r\nin Sakaeland they favour the thin, small, leaf-shaped spear with razor\r\nedges.\r\n\r\nHe shortened spear as I struggled on the ground, and then Payindah\r\nleapt across me--a shadow against the blue sky and the ring of men\r\naround--and his bayonet went home under the man\xe2\x80\x99s ribs. Hardly was it\r\nin when he pulled it free again to drive the rifle-butt with all his\r\nforce into the jaw of a knifeman who sprang upon him. The man reeled\r\nbackward--his jawbone smashed--and then with a rush and a whirl the\r\nfirst wave of our people from behind swept over us in a storm of steel;\r\nand a mixed mob of Shaman, Brown Sakae, and our own Blue Sakae troops\r\nwent swirling on down the hill, and the little hilltop was silent a\r\nmoment ere a new rush of our people pressed over it.\r\n\r\nPhilos had got to his feet and stood unsteadily, looking round over\r\nthe stricken remnants of our companies. Then a new throng of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nfolk passed over us, Andros sword in hand, his eagle plumes gay in his\r\nsteel cap ahead of them. Seeing us, he waved on his men and stopped.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSore hurt, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d he queried, as I lay on the ground, while\r\nPayindah and my standard-bearer tied up my leg, which was bleeding\r\nfreely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think not gravely, but enough to keep me quiet a bit,\xe2\x80\x9d said I,\r\nfeeling, indeed, very limp.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou have suffered here, I see. But Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s banner will be sung of\r\nin all Sakaeland, and with it will be remembered your name so long as\r\nthe story is told. Harilek, I envy you your fortune. We hold them, and\r\nin another half-hour we will drive them over the river, and presently\r\nacross the border. They fall back already. And \xe2\x80\x99tis you we have to\r\nthank.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe considered me thoughtfully. \xe2\x80\x9cYou ought to have been born among\r\nus Sakae, Harilek. Such a fight has not been fought since the old,\r\nold days. First you save Aryenis, and now you fight to a finish in a\r\nbattle to help a people whom you hardly know, sword to sword in our own\r\nfashion, too, it seems, and not with your noise weapons. You are to be\r\nenvied, I think.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd to be thanked also, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d said Philos. \xe2\x80\x9cI am dazed still, but\r\nit seems that I owe you my life. We are all your debtors.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe fight had nothing much to do with me, Andros. It was fought by\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s folk. I am to be envied in that I had the fortune to be with\r\nsuch men, that only. And as for your matter, Philos, in such a close\r\nfight every man owes something to every one else. I in turn owe my life\r\nto my man here. But how many of our people are left?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI go and see now. Not over-many, I fear. I think my cousin is dead\r\nalso, and he was to have been married next month.\xe2\x80\x9d He went off, still\r\nwalking rather shakily. Luckily the axe had glanced from his cap, and,\r\nbarring a very sore and aching head, he was none the worse next day.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI must go on, Harilek, since you are all right,\xe2\x80\x9d said Andros. \xe2\x80\x9cI see\r\nyour friends coming up, so you will be looked after. I am sorry you\r\nwill not see the enemy really punished, for I fear you will lie abed\r\nsome time. Nevertheless, although you are laid by the heels, I envy\r\nyou.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe smiled a farewell, and went off after his troops.\r\n\r\nThen came Forsyth and Wrexham, the former somewhat battle-worn, but\r\ncheerful, as befits a man who has dealt properly with a superior force\r\nof enemy all day and seen their backs at last.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHeard you\xe2\x80\x99d copped it, Harry,\xe2\x80\x9d said Forsyth as he knelt down to\r\nexamine my leg. \xe2\x80\x9cLuckily I brought along a haversack of dressings and\r\nthings on my pony. What is it? Arrow? Sword?\xe2\x80\x9d He pulled off Payindah\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ncrude bandage as he spoke.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSpear, worse luck. It seems to have made a largish hole, doesn\xe2\x80\x99t it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMight be worse, and it\xe2\x80\x99s clean-looking. No arteries touched, which is\r\nthe chief thing. I\xe2\x80\x99ll get a first dressing on, and then we\xe2\x80\x99ll get you\r\nback to Aornos. Feeling limp?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot too bad. Should like a meal more than anything.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham, having discovered that I was not seriously hurt, had hurried\r\non again to catch Kyrlos and join in the fight.\r\n\r\nSome of my men had come up now with a rough stretcher, and when Forsyth\r\nhad tied me up they carried me down the hill to the road, where such\r\nof our men as were left were collecting. We were a sorry sight when we\r\nfinally took count. There were about sixty sound men; another sixty\r\nor so who, though wounded, could stand; seventy or so badly wounded,\r\nsome of whom were not likely to see the day out. The rest were dead:\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s contingent would take no further part in the war for some\r\ntime. I was more than glad to see Philos\xe2\x80\x99s cousin among the last to\r\ncome in. He had collected the d\xc3\xa9bris of his company in the huts at the\r\nlast, and held out there with a score of men. After one or two efforts\r\nthe enemy had left them, doubtless intending to smoke them out or\r\nburn them out at their leisure. He had been wounded again after I had\r\nfirst seen him, and his mail was hacked and scarred, and his leather\r\nunder-jerkin stained with blood and ripped in places, but he was still\r\nin fighting form.\r\n\r\nHe wrung me by the hand as he came up.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA good fight, Sir Harilek. We shall have much honour in the land.\r\nAnd there are very much fewer Shamans now than this morning. Over two\r\nhundred we slew on our hill, and you must have killed twice that number\r\non your side. But we have suffered sorely. There will be many desolate\r\nhomes round Aornos to-night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe bulk of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s army had passed us, and the fight had swayed\r\nback over the stream. The enemy were in full retreat, it seemed.\r\nKyrlos had missed us, having gone straight on down the road, whereas\r\nAndros had come up over the hill, but he sent me a little note later\r\nin the afternoon, which I keep as a memory of that day on the Astara.\r\nThe Sakae are a most straight-spoken people, either when pleased or\r\ndispleased.\r\n\r\nOur pack-animals came up presently, and we had some food, which was\r\nvery welcome. Andros had given Philos orders that we were to go back\r\nto Aornos for the present, taking our wounded and leaving a guard over\r\nour dead, who would be fetched next morning for burial by their folk.\r\nThe Sakae set great store on burying their dead in their own villages,\r\nwhenever possible, rather than in a strange place. Rough stretchers\r\nwere improvised for such of the wounded as could not walk, and with the\r\nassistance of the sound men some of us were carried and others packed\r\ninto bullock-carts, which Andros had brought for us. It was dark before\r\nwe reached our camp at Aornos, and I was glad to get to bed in the warm\r\nfirelit room in Torka\xe2\x80\x99s house, and, after more dressing by Forsyth, to\r\neat a meal specially prepared for me, and brought up by Torka\xe2\x80\x99s wife\r\nin person, a talkative but kindly lady, who fussed over me a lot. But\r\nthe only person I wanted to fuss over me just then was the only one I\r\ncouldn\xe2\x80\x99t have, and I was glad when Forsyth produced some hot milk and\r\naspirin, with an order to go to sleep if I could.\r\n\r\nI got to sleep eventually, despite my leg, but the silence was broken\r\nnow and then by women wailing over their dead, for some of the Aornos\r\nmen had been the van of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s troops. The day had been distinctly\r\nhectic, which did not aid sleep. And, lastly, Aryenis came into my\r\nmind, and refused to go away at all, despite the insistent memory of\r\nAndros\xe2\x80\x99s mauve-bound eagle feathers. It was a bad night altogether,\r\nand I was glad when, in the morning after he had dressed my leg again,\r\nForsyth announced that Paulos had sent in demanding immediate delivery\r\nof my person at his house, since I was the leader of his men, and\r\ntherefore his house was mine for as long as I wanted it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWould you rather stop here or go on? It\xe2\x80\x99s only four miles, and he\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nsent his own special litter for you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ll go. I don\xe2\x80\x99t want to stop here and be a nuisance to these people,\r\nwhom I hardly know. They\xe2\x80\x99ll have others along presently, and I feel at\r\nhome with Paulos.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo I went in Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s litter, with the remnants of my companies behind\r\nme, and the yellow-haired standard-bearer, in his battle-stained mail,\r\nriding ahead with Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s banner. The people cheered us through the\r\nstreets, and I was glad, for Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s men had more than earned it.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIII\r\n\r\nI PRETEND TO UNDERSTAND ARYENIS\r\n\r\n\r\nThe winter sun shone gaily in through the open windows of my bedroom\r\nat Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s, dimming the red flames of the big log fire, and throwing\r\nbright shafts of light along the dark polished floor. Outside, under\r\nthe cloudless blue sky, the chenar trees stood in the last warmth of\r\ntheir russet autumn dress, almost the colour of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s hair. The\r\nleafless silver of the poplars, the falling yellow leaves of the big\r\nmulberries, the faint yellow tinge in the green of the little lawns,\r\nthe occasional splash of colour of a late rose with its loose-leafed\r\nglory of crimson, all spoke to the end of the year, and the little posy\r\nof winter violets on the table by my bed were a last parting gift of\r\nfragrance from a year that had held more life and adventure than all\r\nthe thirty-one preceding it. Also a year that had once seemed to hold\r\nmore promise than I had ever dreamed of.\r\n\r\nThis was my second day at Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s, and the peace of the place was\r\nsinking into my soul after the rather tiring and strained days I had\r\nbeen through. I had been put into the big oak-panelled bedroom on the\r\nground-floor with a verandah which gave on to the walled garden at the\r\nback, Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s favourite resort. My leg was less painful already, and,\r\naccording to Forsyth, gave promise of healing up straight away--partly\r\nowing to the clean nature of the wound, partly to my own physical\r\nhardness after months of marching. Over the fireplace hung my mail\r\nand weapons, and above them, at Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s own wish, his banner which\r\nhad waved above us during our struggle at the Astara defile. The old\r\narcher had revised his opinion of me apparently, and himself polished\r\nup my mail daily, sitting with Payindah in the sunlit verandah outside,\r\nexchanging broken phrases.\r\n\r\nThis morning, however, despite the peace of my surroundings, there\r\nwas much to worry over. The previous day had brought a messenger from\r\nKyrlos, whose army was now steadily pushing back the Shaman forces\r\ntoward their fantastic hills, and with letters from Kyrlos came a\r\ncharacteristic note from Wrexham, a note which lay upon my little\r\ntable, and which introduced an extraordinary complexity into things.\r\nFor its brief contents informed Forsyth and me that we were likely to\r\nremain prisoners in Sakaeland for many, many months if not, perhaps,\r\nfor ever; and what not so long before would have been to me at least a\r\nnot unpleasing accident opened up now a prospect of weeks and months of\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s company, when everything told me that the Aryenis I had saved\r\nin the gate had been saved for some one else; Andros\xe2\x80\x99s telltale eagle\r\nfeathers were more illuminating than fifty statements.\r\n\r\nI took up John\xe2\x80\x99s note again, scribbled in pencil on a sheet torn from\r\nhis notebook.\r\n\r\n DEAR H.,--We have just pushed the Shamans over the border, and\r\n hammered them some in the process. But there is real bad news. I went\r\n with Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s mounted men on the left, chasing some enemy cavalry.\r\n We halted that night within a mile or so of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s house near the\r\n caves, and then learnt that the enemy had burnt the place. Being\r\n anxious about Sadiq and the camels, I rode up with some men in the\r\n morning, and the very first thing I ran into in the garden was poor\r\n Sadiq\xe2\x80\x99s body, much cut about. We went off straight to the caves, and\r\n almost at the mouth found a dead Blue Sakae, whom the men identified\r\n as one of the guard that had been left.\r\n\r\n We followed the passage through the caves and down--the ropes were\r\n still in place--and then below the cliffs, even before we got down,\r\n the kites and ravens told us the worst. There were eight of the\r\n camels lying about dead with arrows sticking in them, and close by\r\n we found the bodies of the rest of the guard. Where the other two\r\n camels went, I don\xe2\x80\x99t know. Don\xe2\x80\x99t think they can have been taken round\r\n anywhere below the cliffs.\r\n\r\n There was no one at the house able to give us any idea of what had\r\n happened. The old man who had been left in charge was dead. I think\r\n Sadiq must have come up with one of the guard to have a look round\r\n the place, and then fallen in with the enemy, who thereby discovered\r\n the caves. Sadiq\xe2\x80\x99s uncommon clothes and appearance, and perhaps his\r\n speech, if they caught him alive, probably made them connect him with\r\n us, so they went down to look below, and finding the guard and camels\r\n killed the lot off. This seems to be the usual Shaman way of dealing\r\n with anything for which they have no immediate use.\r\n\r\n So here we are fixed in Sakaeland until we can evolve some scheme of\r\n getting across the desert. At the moment I can think of nothing.\r\n\r\nThe news was pretty staggering, and, like Wrexham, I could think of no\r\nscheme whereby we could get back. Even if the two missing camels turned\r\nup, they would hardly suffice to carry water enough for the five of us\r\nto get back across the sands, even supposing the animals themselves\r\ncould do the journey without any, which, after the outward march, it\r\nseemed pretty clear they could not.\r\n\r\nAnyway, for the moment there was nothing to do but put the best face\r\non matters, and content one\xe2\x80\x99s self with the present. Forsyth did not\r\nseem to take the news at all hardly, but then at the moment Sakaeland\r\nand Zin\xc3\xa9, or rather Zin\xc3\xa9 in Sakaeland, completely filled his attention.\r\nPayindah, of course, was in no way perturbed, and merely considered it\r\nanother good proof that we were meant to stop in the country and annex\r\nsome of the land. He seemed to have made up his mind quite firmly on\r\nthat point.\r\n\r\nI was making pretence of deciphering an old manuscript of the fifth\r\ncentury which Paulos had lent me, a black-lettered parchment from\r\nthe pen of the Bishop Basil, one of the little colony of Greeks who\r\nhad somehow found their way across the desert into Sakaeland, and,\r\nconverting many of the Sakae, had impressed upon them a considerable\r\namount of the culture and taught them many of the arts of far Byzantium\r\nbefore, from intermarriage with the clans, they had disappeared as a\r\nseparate people.\r\n\r\nThe bishop was an observant writer, and much of his work dealt with\r\nthe social customs of the Sakae of his time, in many ways the same as\r\nthose of to-day, notably, perhaps, in the matter of the independence of\r\ntheir women--a point which found much praise from the worthy bishop,\r\ndespite his Greek blood and training. He seemed to have been very\r\nenthusiastic over his new flock--savage enough then in many ways, but\r\nwith the clean, healthy savagery that has appealed through all ages\r\nto your real ardent Christian missionary who has learnt the key truth\r\nof his Master\xe2\x80\x99s teaching--namely, that Christianity is a living fire,\r\ndesigned not to annihilate the God-given force of our own personality,\r\nbut to direct its energies into the fitting channels which can remove\r\nmountains. The colourless outlook of some modern so-called followers\r\nof Christ would have seemed far less Christian to the bishop than the\r\nfrank, virile savagery of his Sakae pagans. From his account these\r\nseem to have taken to him as frankly as they took to us. As he said in\r\nhis manuscript: \xe2\x80\x9cTheir errors are, as Saint Paul admonishes us, \xe2\x80\x98but\r\nhuman,\xe2\x80\x99 and for such surely God and His Son are wholly merciful.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBasil must have borne a strong family likeness to Saint Augustine\r\namong his Angle and Saxon pirates, savage men with the minds of little\r\nchildren. I conceived a liking for the old Greek, and under other\r\ncircumstances would have read him with enthralling interest; but at the\r\nmoment my mind was much too taken up with future prospects. Forsyth,\r\nhaving dressed my leg very early, had ridden to Miletis for the day--to\r\nsee Zin\xc3\xa9, I imagined--so that I was alone.\r\n\r\nI was glad, therefore, when the shuffling tread outside informed me of\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s arrival. The shadows of his bearers darkened the doorway as\r\nthey bore him on a sort of wicker couch with arms and placed him down\r\nbetween me and the fire, settled the rugs over his legs, and left us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe are two cripples now, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d said he, smiling at me. \xe2\x80\x9cI suppose\r\nyou are all impatience to be afoot again, but Forsyth tells me he will\r\nnot let you off your bed for another ten days, whatever happens.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, Paulos, just now I am not ill content to rest here awhile; to\r\nlook out upon your garden and read your manuscripts; to think a little\r\nfrom time to time, and, as we say, \xe2\x80\x98to make my soul\xe2\x80\x99 a bit. But I am\r\nafraid poor Bishop Basil is somewhat neglected. There is much to think\r\nabout--for instance, this disaster to our camels.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLet the dead bury their dead, lad. I am sorry that your man should\r\nhave been killed, but for the rest I am frankly glad that Fate--if\r\nyou choose to call it so--has intervened to keep you among us longer.\r\nIndeed, being privileged as an old man to speak my mind, I hope Fate,\r\nor Fate\xe2\x80\x99s Master, will keep you with us for ever.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd do what, Paulos? Live on charity? You would be tired of guests\r\nwhose visit was a lifetime.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat talk is this of charity when you and your friends have built\r\nup such claims upon us that fifty years were too short to repay?\r\nI told you before you left that my people already spoke of you as\r\none of ourselves. But now your name is sung by every bard at every\r\nfireside. Listen, Harilek. If when the war is over you and your friends\r\nshould find you cannot recross the desert--or perchance feel that\r\nyou would wish to cast in your lot with ours, as did Basil and his\r\ncompanions--then remember that Kyrlos and I have broad lands, and there\r\nis no shame for a soldier to take land and title he has won in war. You\r\nwill be robbing no one, for there are many vacant fiefs in the Green\r\nSakae country, whose rightful owners have passed through the Shaman\r\ngate. You have told me that such honours have been accepted by soldiers\r\nin your own land, and none, I am sure, can have earned them better than\r\nyou have done here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you, Paulos; I will remember. But for myself just now the\r\nthought of a life in Sakaeland is somewhat hard. A month ago no second\r\ninvitation would have been needed. But now--\xe2\x80\x9d I stopped.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut now a certain Andros wears a plume of eagle feathers bound with\r\nmauve, and Harilek is bedridden like a foolish old man who sits\r\nopposite to him--thought-reading! But time brings many things. At all\r\ntimes and always that offer will be open.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen he turned to the war news, which was good, and we discussed the\r\nprospects of the campaign. He opined that the main struggle would\r\ncome in the Shaman country itself, since Milos\xe2\x80\x99s reports from the\r\nnorth showed that the Red Sakae--save for isolated raids--were too\r\ndisorganized to do much, and the sympathies of the majority were with\r\nus rather than with the Shamans, of whose rule the country-folk were\r\nheartily tired.\r\n\r\nWe spent a pleasant day together discussing an infinity of subjects,\r\nfor Paulos is a cultured talker, and the most shrewdly observant man\r\nI have ever met. It was a daily wonder to me that an old cripple\r\namong a nation of rather primitive fighting men should have retained\r\nsuch a vivid interest in life. Once or twice we were interrupted\r\nby visitors--old grey-headed village headmen, who rode in seeking\r\nnews, and appeared kindly anxious to greet me. It seemed that\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s statements as to his people\xe2\x80\x99s feeling in my regard were not\r\nexaggerated, for the Sakae are very transparent, and make no pretence\r\nof dissimulating likes or dislikes.\r\n\r\nThe early afternoon brought Philos\xe2\x80\x99s wife with her small son to ask\r\nafter me, and to thank me for having saved her husband\xe2\x80\x99s life. Philos\r\nhad gone on with the army the day after the Astara, having apparently\r\ngiven her a most exaggerated account of my doings, and, woman-like,\r\nshe would take no notice of my version of the real facts. The boy sat\r\non the foot of my bed playing with the sword which the old archer\r\nreached down for him from the wall, and studying me with great blue\r\neyes. I envied Philos very much when she left again--a slim girlish\r\nfigure in her riding-clothes--smiling us a farewell, and telling the\r\nboy to salute us both with my sword, which he was not at all ready to\r\nrelinquish.\r\n\r\nPaulos and I had just finished our afternoon glass of wine, when his\r\napple-cheeked, wrinkled, white-haired housekeeper entered and spoke to\r\nhim. I gathered from his tone that he was giving her some instructions.\r\nShortly after she left us in came the old archer, evidently with some\r\nnews. A little later, as Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s bearers came to carry him away,\r\nI heard horses\xe2\x80\x99 feet outside, and then Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s voice calling to\r\nPayindah. I wondered if he had seen Zin\xc3\xa9, and envied him being able\r\nto ride about. I picked up Basil once more, and studied the crabbed\r\nwriting by the light of the lamp which had just been lit. But my\r\nthoughts were very far removed from the good bishop\xe2\x80\x99s dissertation\r\non Sakae customs. They were following a twisted chain, of which the\r\nnearest link was Philos\xe2\x80\x99s wife and her stout, little blue-eyed son; an\r\nintermediate link was connected with a fireside in Aornos and a talk of\r\ndragons; while somewhere in the mists at the far end was a dream vision\r\nseen by a tired man sleeping out on the stones, while Wrexham and\r\nPayindah held the mouth of the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 gate. Then a footstep as some\r\none pulled back the curtain and entered.\r\n\r\nI looked up, and there, in the dim circle of the lamp and the\r\nbright glow of the fire--my lady herself, the big fur collar of her\r\nriding-coat thrown back, a sparkle in her eyes, and the glow of the\r\nwinter wind in her cheeks, as she stood looking at me, pulling off her\r\nriding-gauntlets--my gauntlets.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAryenis!\xe2\x80\x9d I gasped, rather foolishly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Harilek. Aryenis in person, as you see.\xe2\x80\x9d She came forward. \xe2\x80\x9cI\r\nthought I should like to win some more bets, and, since one-legged\r\nHarilek couldn\xe2\x80\x99t come to Miletis, two-legged Aryenis had to come here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nThen her laughing note changed as she held out both her hands. \xe2\x80\x9cAre\r\nyou badly hurt, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d--the laughing note came back--\xe2\x80\x9cor is it only\r\nanother wiggly mark?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe stood holding my hands, looking down at me, all the red-gold glory\r\nof her hair aflame in the firelight which played across her beautiful\r\nface, now lighting up the wonderful clear depths of her big hazel-grey\r\neyes, now casting tender little shadows about the witching curves of\r\nher dear lips. Then, without waiting for an answer, she went on:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cForsyth said you\xe2\x80\x99d be in bed at least a fortnight, so I told Paulos\r\nthat Zin\xc3\xa9 and I would come and stop with him, for a womanless house is\r\nno place for a wounded man. And the doctor fetched us to-day.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd never told me why he was going to Miletis!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou didn\xe2\x80\x99t tell me--us--when you were coming here,\xe2\x80\x9d retorted my lady,\r\nloosing her hands to take off her big coat. \xe2\x80\x9cBesides, surprises are\r\nalways the nicest things, aren\xe2\x80\x99t they? Much better than the things\r\nyou\xe2\x80\x99ve been looking forward to, which sometimes don\xe2\x80\x99t turn out as nice\r\nas you\xe2\x80\x99ve imagined them.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe pulled up a chair and sat down, only to get up again to rearrange\r\nthe flowers on my little table.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat helpless creatures men are! You\xe2\x80\x99ve got the best violets out of my\r\npet bed, and the poor little things are all squashed up anyhow.\xe2\x80\x9d Then\r\nshe turned on me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99re very tongue-tied, Harilek. You haven\xe2\x80\x99t even said you\xe2\x80\x99re pleased\r\nto see me, and you\xe2\x80\x99ve not had a glimpse of me for over a fortnight.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat\xe2\x80\x99s the good of saying things, Aryenis? You know--or you ought\r\nto--how more than glad I am to see you. Why, every day--\xe2\x80\x9d I broke off,\r\nremembering Andros.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes? Every day? Go on,\xe2\x80\x9d prompted my lady, arranging the neglected\r\nviolets, her face turned half away.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, every day, and every night, and all the time, I want to see you,\r\nShahzadi, even if I don\xe2\x80\x99t say so.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWomen like being told the things they know,\xe2\x80\x9d remarked Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEven ones with good memories?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe better their memories, the more they like it. So now you know.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen she sat down in the chair, propping her rounded chin on one hand,\r\nas she does when she is thinking, looking at me silently. I turned over\r\nand pulled myself up on my pillows to see her better, and my ribs where\r\nthe spear hit me hurt badly as I turned. I suppose Aryenis saw the\r\ngrimace, for she was out of her chair in a flash to help me and to pack\r\nup the pillows.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoes your leg hurt much, Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked, suddenly anxious.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNothing much. My side\xe2\x80\x99s all stiff, though; that\xe2\x80\x99s what caught me then.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYour side?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. I bumped a spear in the mix-up. Thanks to Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s mail, it\r\ndidn\xe2\x80\x99t go in, but it\xe2\x80\x99s a bit sore. You see, your gift repaid your debt\r\nfor you, all right, as you hoped it might.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI didn\xe2\x80\x99t know. Tell me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe was smoothing out my blankets as she spoke, and I lay silent,\r\nwatching the movements of her slender, capable hands. Just then I felt\r\nmore than I\xe2\x80\x99d ever felt before that I would give my whole soul to have\r\nher slim arms about me and her lips on mine. However, I choked that\r\ndown, and told her something about our last battle on the hill, she\r\nlistening steady-eyed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo you think that the debt is repaid now, do you?\xe2\x80\x9d she said when I had\r\nfinished. \xe2\x80\x9cThat because Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s mail saved you from a chance blow in\r\na fight fought for us that we are quits? You\xe2\x80\x99re wrong, Harilek.\xe2\x80\x9d She\r\nbent over me. \xe2\x80\x9cFor what you did for me in the gate--man with the wiggly\r\nmarks--a whole lifetime\xe2\x80\x99s service would be all too short repayment.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen she straightened up, ignoring my effort to catch her hands. \xe2\x80\x9cI\r\nmust go and change into more suitable clothes now. And after dinner\r\nwe\xe2\x80\x99ll all come and see you.\xe2\x80\x9d And she went, leaving me with my mind all\r\nin a chaotic whirl, trying to reconcile her tone and her words with\r\nAndros\xe2\x80\x99s feathers.\r\n\r\nFollowed ten days in bed, no longer boresome, since it was lightened\r\nby Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s continual visits. But for some days she seemed on the\r\ndefensive, always selecting her times when Paulos was with me. Then she\r\nwould sit for hours with her work listening to us talking, or telling\r\nus bits and scraps of homely news she had gathered in her morning rides\r\nround the estate. She seemed to have annexed Payindah, for that worthy\r\nwas hardly ever to be seen of a morning, and, when I asked him where he\r\nwent to, he answered, as though a matter of course, \xe2\x80\x9cRiding with the\r\nShahzadi round your lands. She always rides your horse now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAt other times she would bring Zin\xc3\xa9 with her to help her in the\r\nlessons, as she said, for she and Paulos were making me learn Sakae,\r\nsaying I would need it when I got about again. I like Zin\xc3\xa9 very much:\r\nshe is an ever-cheerful, chatty, friendly damsel, and very much more\r\nthan very pretty, but Aryenis alone was ample company for me, and I\xe2\x80\x99m\r\nsure Zin\xc3\xa9 would far rather have been wandering the woods with Forsyth.\r\nBut I suppose Aryenis dominated her as she did every one else.\r\n\r\nIt was the tenth day after Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s arrival--a very red-letter day\r\nwhen Alec had promoted me to a couch by the fire on condition that I\r\nkept my leg still, and further promised me that, if all went well, in\r\ntwo days\xe2\x80\x99 time I should be allowed to try a crutch and an arm in the\r\ngarden--that the Zin\xc3\xa9-Forsyth worm turned. At his morning visit, Paulos\r\nannounced, with an enigmatical smile, that Forsyth and Zin\xc3\xa9 had ridden\r\ninto Miletis, and would not be back till late: probably they would\r\nstay the night with Milos and Annais. Aryenis was out riding. \xe2\x80\x9cBut I\r\nhave told her that she must be back before lunch, for I have work this\r\nafternoon, and I cannot have my guest left lonely.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe had lunch served in my room that day, and Aryenis returned in a very\r\ntalkative mood, with lots to say about all she had seen and done in\r\nthe morning. Soon after lunch, Paulos went off, saying he had headmen\r\nto interview, so that for the first time for a week I got my lady all\r\nto myself, albeit I was propped up on a couch, and she had established\r\nherself on a low stool with an embroidery-frame on the other side of\r\nthe hearth. We talked of many things, and then relapsed into silence,\r\nas one does with those one knows well. I considered her for a long\r\ntime, her face partly hidden behind her stretched silk, while her busy\r\nfingers fluttered backward and forward over the pattern.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat embroidery is rather like you, Shahzadi,\xe2\x80\x9d said I at last.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLike me?\xe2\x80\x9d she said, biting off a thread and looking up. \xe2\x80\x9cWhy?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause from where I sit I can see there\xe2\x80\x99s something interesting going\r\non on the other side, but I can\xe2\x80\x99t make out what. And I\xe2\x80\x99m very anxious\r\nto know.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThere you are.\xe2\x80\x9d She turned over the frame, and I saw, what I had\r\nreally guessed it was, Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s bear on the green ground. \xe2\x80\x9cSatisfied?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, that; yes. But my curiosity was directed to the other side of\r\n_you_, not to your work.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you think I\xe2\x80\x99m going to turn myself inside out for inspection like I\r\ndo my embroidery-frame, O Thought-Reader? If so, think again.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI am.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nMutual silence, broken finally by Aryenis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd have our thoughts produced great results yet, O Wizard?\xe2\x80\x9d There was\r\njust a suspicion of curiosity in her tone.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey are beginning to be illuminating.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnother silence, over which curiosity eventually won a decisive victory.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd might a humble princess ask a distinguished warrior what his\r\nthoughts are?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe might. In fact, she actually has. But the term \xe2\x80\x98humble\xe2\x80\x99 is new\r\nand unfamiliar. I thought princesses, especially this one, only issued\r\ncommands.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo they do generally. But this one is at the moment faintly curious,\r\nand therefore make-believe humble. That is an unheard-of confession,\r\nbut now you have it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt is, and consequently deserves reward. I\xe2\x80\x99m just beginning to\r\nunderstand why Andros wears a plume of feathers bound with your own\r\nmauve.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSuch understanding was immeasurably far from my intelligence, but I\r\nhoped the lie might draw.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow very clever we are! And why does he wear it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe slender fingers were poised motionless over the embroidery.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBecause he asked you for it.\xe2\x80\x9d This seemed a safe statement, but what\r\nwas to come next, Heaven only knew.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99d never have forgiven you if you\xe2\x80\x99d said I\xe2\x80\x99d given it him because he\r\ndidn\xe2\x80\x99t ask for it. Yes, well?\xe2\x80\x9d The fingers were busy once more.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, that\xe2\x80\x99s all,\xe2\x80\x9d I answered. My brain was petering out.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd very lame, too, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d she said, putting down her work and\r\nlooking at me. \xe2\x80\x9cAndros comes to me with a bunch of feathers which are\r\npart of his dress, and asks me to make them up for him, as he\xe2\x80\x99s often\r\nasked me to do little things before. Harilek having--as he thinks,\r\nsecretly--looked at me out of his window--yes, I saw you--spends nearly\r\nthree weeks in deep thought over the matter. At the end of that time\r\nthis marvellous thought-reader arrives at the stupendous conclusion\r\nthat Andros asked me for his plume, and therefore wears it. Am I to\r\nadmire this staggering piece of reasoning, O Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d Her tone was\r\nmocking, but with a spice of tenderness in it, or so I thought.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI--I thought you\xe2\x80\x99d given them to him as--as a special favour,\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\nstammered.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI told you last time you tried thought-reading that, if any one wanted\r\nmy favour, he\xe2\x80\x99d have to _take_ it. Your memory is very poor.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt will be good in future, Shahzadi,\xe2\x80\x9d said I humbly. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m glad the\r\ncamels are dead.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis busied herself with her work once more, ignoring my last\r\nremark. Presently she said, without looking up:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe day after to-morrow, the doctor says you can try and walk a little\r\nwith a stick and an arm. Will you trust mine?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99d trust your arm, Shahzadi, more than any arm in all the world. Just\r\nas I\xe2\x80\x99d trust you with my whole soul and my hope of a life to come.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe made no reply to that, but I could see a tiny flush run into her\r\ncheeks, and a little happy quaver at the corner of her mouth. We\r\nrelapsed into a long silence after that, but I think a contented one.\r\nMine certainly was. Suddenly she lifted her head, listening:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHorses! I wonder who it is so late? I wonder if it\xe2\x80\x99s news from the\r\narmy.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe went out, and presently Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s unmistakable tread came ringing\r\ndown the passage, and he entered with a clank of war-gear, flinging his\r\nsteel cap on to my bed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGood to see you out of bed again, Harry,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, pulling up a stool\r\nand putting his feet to the blaze. \xe2\x80\x9cAryenis says you\xe2\x80\x99ll be walking in a\r\ncouple of days.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, so Alec promised. But what brings you back, John, and what\xe2\x80\x99s the\r\nnews?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFine. We chivied the Shamans right back to their city after a week\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nrunning fight through their hills. Filthiest tangle of knife-edges and\r\nprecipitous gorges you ever saw. We took a minor knock or two, but on\r\nthe whole we hustled them good and proper. Not many Shaman prisoners,\r\nbut a lot of Brown Sakae. Stout savages like Pathans. Kyrlos says he\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ngoing to civilize them when he\xe2\x80\x99s done with the Shamans. Your pal Henga\r\nis up there--with the vanguard generally. He\xe2\x80\x99s a tiger and no mistake.\r\nCountry up there is too bad for horses, so I deserted Stephnos and\r\njoined with Henga. He and I had a tophole picnic last week.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut what have you come back for? It\xe2\x80\x99s not like you to miss a healthy\r\nscrap.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHealthy scraps are off for the moment. As the learned used to say in\r\nthe war, \xe2\x80\x98the front has stabilized.\xe2\x80\x99 In other words, we are sitting\r\non three sides of the Shaman city--huge great walls and a devil of a\r\nditch. The fourth side is sheer mountain near the gate where we found\r\nAryenis. Kyrlos had two shots at assaulting the place, but they took\r\ntea with us over it. Now he says he\xe2\x80\x99s going to starve \xe2\x80\x99em out, but I\r\nthink he\xe2\x80\x99s a bit of an optimist. They must have months of grub there.\r\nBut it\xe2\x80\x99s just like a bit of an old book. Boiling lead, hide-covered\r\ntowers, catapults, and battering-rams.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSeems to suit you all right. But for the third time what\xe2\x80\x99s fetched you\r\nback? If you tell me it\xe2\x80\x99s to inquire after my leg, I\xe2\x80\x99ll say you\xe2\x80\x99re a\r\nd----d liar.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99ve come back rather hurriedly with some of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s sappers to get\r\nengineer stores. I didn\xe2\x80\x99t think they\xe2\x80\x99d get in for weeks and months at\r\nthe rate they were going, and, having a brain wave or two, I talked\r\nwith Kyrlos and Andros. Live man, Andros. The upshot was that I and my\r\nengineer pal--you know the funny bloke with the crooked nose--with\r\ntwenty picked men left Shamantown day before yesterday _en route_ to\r\nMiletis. They\xe2\x80\x99re spending the night at Aornos, but I thought I\xe2\x80\x99d sleep\r\nhere if Paulos could give me a shake-down and they can pick me up in\r\nthe morning. Aryenis says she can fix me up all right: gone to see\r\nabout it now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat are engineer stores in this country?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTell you in a fortnight\xe2\x80\x99s time. You\xe2\x80\x99ll be fit enough to sit a pony\r\nthen, and can come and see the beano. If my calculations are right,\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99ll be worth seeing. Hulloa, here\xe2\x80\x99s Firoz come to make salaams.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nFiroz, beaming all over, his steel cap adorned with a plume of cock\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nfeathers from a dead Shaman, and his waist girt with a gay-woven belt\r\nfrom a similar source, entered to pass the time of day and give me a\r\nlurid account of the war--a first-class article according to him.\r\n\r\nWrexham borrowed Payindah to help him at Miletis. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99d like to have\r\nboth of them with me for the next ten days if you can spare him,\xe2\x80\x9d he\r\nsaid as Firoz went out.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAsk Aryenis. He\xe2\x80\x99s her shadow nowadays. But if you speak kindly to her,\r\nshe\xe2\x80\x99ll let him go, I expect,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\nJust then the lady came in to show Wrexham the room she had had fixed\r\nup for him. It was rather wasted, because he sat on my bed till long\r\nafter midnight, telling me of all the \xe2\x80\x9cpicnics\xe2\x80\x9d and \xe2\x80\x9cshows\xe2\x80\x9d that he and\r\nHenga had had. I could picture the pair together: they are very much of\r\na type.\r\n\r\nSomewhere about ten o\xe2\x80\x99clock Aryenis came in to say good-night to us,\r\nand despite John\xe2\x80\x99s battle yarns my last waking moments were much more\r\nconcerned with her than with any of his staccato stirring stories.\r\nAs Aryenis said, \xe2\x80\x9cToys all,\xe2\x80\x9d compared to other things: things like\r\nred-gold hair and hazel-grey eyes, slim white arms and warm red lips,\r\nfor instance.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIV\r\n\r\nI WIN MY BET\r\n\r\n\r\nThe ten days following my first walk in the garden had passed all too\r\nquickly. My leg was now completely healed, although a trifle stiff,\r\nand a considerable hindrance in walking any distance. But there was\r\nno longer any need for the crutch with which I had made my d\xc3\xa9but the\r\nday after Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s departure for Miletis, and, much as I was loath\r\nto admit it, no further actual necessity for Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s arm, which had\r\naided my first dot-and-carry-one efforts round the little walled garden.\r\n\r\nTen days\xe2\x80\x99 undiluted bliss they had been, with day after long day in my\r\nlady\xe2\x80\x99s company, at first short strolls, punctuated by long rests in the\r\ngardens about the house--sitting in the winter sunlight--then longer\r\nwalks in the grounds; and of late rides into her beloved woods, elm and\r\nbirch bare of leaf, and pines in their sombre green, with underfoot the\r\nmatted pine-needles or the thick mass of fallen leaves, last relics of\r\nthe dying year.\r\n\r\nAnd day after day Aryenis unfolded more and more each new day\r\nbringing forth some new charm, some little turn of speech, some\r\nlittle gesture, to be visualized again and again. The long silences\r\nthat come when friendship has ripened into love, when, for the time\r\nbeing, all happiness lies in the mere fact of being together, when the\r\ndelight of simple companionship has replaced the demand for speech or\r\nself-expression, when you have learnt to be utterly contented with\r\nthe mere proximity of the beloved, and words are daily less and less\r\nexpressive and important, since you have passed the need for the\r\nexternals that mere acquaintanceship or friendship demand--sometimes so\r\nclamorously.\r\n\r\nIt was sheer delight to me to watch Aryenis--so quick of speech in\r\ncompany--grow silent when we were alone; to try to fathom the thoughts\r\nbehind her eyes as we rode or as we sat together in some corner of the\r\nwooded hills overlooking the rich rolling country spread below us. To\r\ncatch her slow, questioning glance--that sought no answer in words--or\r\nlisten to her little laugh that spelt the uttermost height and breadth\r\nand depth of rich content.\r\n\r\nLife was very good those days--days which formed a little haven on the\r\nroad that comes from nowhere and leads to Heaven knows where. It was\r\nmore than unpleasing to think that another three or four days would\r\nsee me riding again down the Aornos road with John and his train of\r\nstores to what we hoped would be the last act of the Shaman drama. Alec\r\nhad already gone on to join Kyrlos, since I had no further need of his\r\nattentions. As we had expected, his medical knowledge had wonderfully\r\nimpressed the Sakae, and his war-time experience enabled him to do\r\nsome very useful work at the present juncture--the more so since the\r\nSakae were just the class of uncomplaining, clean-fleshed patients\r\nthat every surgeon loves. Moreover, he had ridden away with a dainty\r\nlittle cockade in his steel cap, and it was a very bright-eyed Zin\xc3\xa9\r\nwho had come riding up the winding lane to where Aryenis and I sat in\r\nthe garden whence we had seen Forsyth ride off. Since also I had seen\r\nnothing more of the two girls for the rest of the morning, I concluded\r\nthat Forsyth had at last really found some one who did not remind him\r\nof any one else, some one who was herself, and herself alone at every\r\npoint.\r\n\r\nAnd here was I sitting by the fire in Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s hall, with the\r\ndeer-antlers and the trophies dim above me under the shadows of the\r\nwide-timbered arches in the early winter evening, waiting for Aryenis\r\nto come downstairs from changing out of her riding-clothes. We were\r\njust back from taking Zin\xc3\xa9 to Aornos, where she had gone to spend a\r\ncouple of days with Torka and his wife, a long-promised visit. Paulos,\r\nafter announcing that we would dine rather later that night, had shut\r\nhimself up with his steward and a bundle of land-rolls. This, since\r\nit was only just five, there would be something like three very cosy\r\nhours of firelit winter evening before dinner. And evenings with\r\nAryenis under such conditions were, if anything, even more precious\r\nthan the sunlit days in her woods.\r\n\r\nShe came at last--a slim figure on the dark stairs, gown of\r\nblue-embroidered white silk, bare of neck and arm, the gold clasps in\r\nher hair sparkling in the firelight as she seated herself on the low\r\nsettle by the fire opposite to where I sat on the couch, wherein not so\r\nlong before I had been a prisoner tied by the leg.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo work to-night, Shahzadi?\xe2\x80\x9d I questioned. She sat there most\r\nevenings--her deft fingers busy with one or other of the endless sewing\r\njobs that every really home-loving woman seems always to have on hand.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo. I don\xe2\x80\x99t feel like sewing to-night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat do you feel like, then, lady of the red-gold locks?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLike sitting by the fire--and just--well, looking at it--and thinking.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen we feel alike. I\xe2\x80\x99ve been doing that, too. There was only one\r\nthing lacking.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat was that?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou to look at.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoes that help your thinking process?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite a lot. In fact, I\xe2\x80\x99ve got to the stage of not being able to think\r\nsensibly without having you to look at.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBut that\xe2\x80\x99s bad, Harilek. What will you do when you go away again?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome back just as soon as I can.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSilly! What I mean is, how will you think when you\xe2\x80\x99re away if you\r\ncan\xe2\x80\x99t do it without some one to look at to make your thoughts work?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShut my eyes and look at you. Thank goodness, I can always do that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nWhich was true. I have only to shut my eyes to see Aryenis in every\r\npoint, every little precious detail from the thick crown of her auburn\r\nhair down to her dainty feet. More; I can see her every movement,\r\nand sometimes when I am lucky really hear her voice--phrase after\r\nwell-remembered phrase.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCan you _really_ see me?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOf course I can. Can\xe2\x80\x99t you see me if you shut your eyes?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSuppose I say I can\xe2\x80\x99t?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I shan\xe2\x80\x99t believe you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDo you think that, even if I could, being a woman, I would admit it?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou might, perhaps. Under certain conditions.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wonder if that\xe2\x80\x99s true,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, contemplating the fire\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmolten heart. \xe2\x80\x9cYou speak sometimes as if you thought you knew all about\r\nme. But you don\xe2\x80\x99t really.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI do, though. Quite a lot. Shall I tell you your life-history?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe looked up at me from the fire. \xe2\x80\x9cI love being told--stories,\xe2\x80\x9d she\r\nsaid half seriously, half mockingly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, once upon a time there was a very beautiful princess--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAll stories begin that way,\xe2\x80\x9d she interrupted.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes; that shows they\xe2\x80\x99re true. Anyway, once upon a time there was a\r\nvery beautiful princess, whom some people called \xe2\x80\x98Shahzadi.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI waited for the interruption which didn\xe2\x80\x99t come.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCalled her \xe2\x80\x98Shahzadi.\xe2\x80\x99 And she lived in a very beautiful country, only\r\nit was not half as beautiful as she. Then once she ran into a lot of\r\ndragons--nasty ones, not the friendly kind--and she looked around for a\r\nfairy prince.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe didn\xe2\x80\x99t. She\xe2\x80\x99d given up all hopes of fairy princes then.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe must have been right, for no prince came, but a swineherd\r\narrived--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo! A prince: a real live prince.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA swineherd disguised as--as--a soldier, turned up in proper ragged\r\nclothes, and argued with the dragons, and that was the end of them.\r\nThen he took the princess back to her father\xe2\x80\x99s castle, and there was no\r\nend of rejoicing. When the swineherd and his friends got to Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ncastle they found that her father had a war on with the dragons, and\r\nso they joined in with him, and he lent them clothes to make them look\r\nlike princes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNot true. A fairy godfather gave the prince some clothes such as he\r\nought _always_ to have been wearing instead of ragged disguises.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo, being rigged out as a prince, the swineherd began to think about\r\nthe princess. Only she had carefully changed her clothes and done her\r\nhair differently, so that she was very hard to recognize, so hard\r\nthat when the swineherd went off to fight the dragons again he really\r\ncouldn\xe2\x80\x99t find her at all.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat was because he was a fool and didn\xe2\x80\x99t look properly. I said all\r\nfairy princes were fools.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nBut she didn\xe2\x80\x99t say it quite so incisively this time.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen, when he met the dragons, one of them bit him, and he came home\r\non the flat of his back with lots of time to think. While he was lying\r\nin the fairy godfather\xe2\x80\x99s house, he thought out a plan for finding out\r\nwhere and who the princess really was. You see the dragon\xe2\x80\x99s bite had\r\nquickened up his brain. It\xe2\x80\x99s a way dragon\xe2\x80\x99s teeth have. And that\xe2\x80\x99s the\r\nend of part one.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGo on, Harilek, quickly! Don\xe2\x80\x99t stop at all the best parts.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat is the real story-teller\xe2\x80\x99s trick to make people pay up. I can\xe2\x80\x99t\r\ngo on unless I\xe2\x80\x99m paid.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat is the price, trickster?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite cheap. A seat on my couch here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat\xe2\x80\x99s a big price, much too big. I\xe2\x80\x99m very comfy where I am.\xe2\x80\x9d She\r\nsettled back cosily into her seat.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAll right, lady. No payment--no story. What shall we talk about now?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis pondered awhile. Then she got up slowly, and still more slowly\r\ncame over to sit disdainfully on the extreme corner of the couch, face\r\nwell averted.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe price is terribly high--but the story _might_ be worth it. You may\r\ncontinue.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA lady who looked rather like the princess came to stay with the\r\nfairy godfather, some one whom the swineherd had met before--in fact,\r\nhe\xe2\x80\x99d once made a bet with her.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd lost.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, and lost. But he was heaps cleverer now. He remembered that the\r\nreal princess had a fairy mark on her right shoulder, that no one could\r\nsee. What\xe2\x80\x99s the matter, Shahzadi?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNothing. Why?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI thought you were slipping off the couch.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI wasn\xe2\x80\x99t,\xe2\x80\x9d very indignantly. \xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m paying for my story all right. I\r\nnever cheat.\xe2\x80\x9d She edged back quite half an inch on to the couch again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, he decided that, if he could find the mark and also read\r\nthe lady\xe2\x80\x99s thoughts correctly, he would know if she really was the\r\nprincess. So he waited for many days looking for a really good\r\nopportunity.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes. Very many days.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cUntil finally he thought that he had hit the right time. So one\r\nevening he got very close to the lady he thought was the princess.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBy a trick!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAs you say, by a trick. I said he was getting clever. He managed to\r\nget quite close to her, and then he put his arm round her so that she\r\ncouldn\xe2\x80\x99t get away--like that.\xe2\x80\x9d Aryenis suffered it.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then he wondered whether the first thing would be to read her\r\nthoughts or to look for the fairy mark. But he decided that the\r\nimportant point was first to see if she had the proper mark. So he drew\r\nher closer.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis kept her face resolutely turned away. I wonder she didn\xe2\x80\x99t get\r\na crick in her neck. Besides, it must be painful to have some one\r\nspeaking right into your ear.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPulled her quite close, and then--I wonder what he did then.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nNo answer.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, he very rudely--really quite rudely--slipped her low-necked\r\nfrock a little lower down--so--and there, if you please, was the fairy\r\nmark.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt was there. A little pink scar hitherto hidden by her dress, a tiny,\r\nstraight, nowise unsightly cut across the ivory of her skin, now\r\nrose-pink in the firelight against the white silk and dainty mauve\r\nribbons suddenly disclosed. Aryenis was very still, but unresisting as\r\nI turned her dear face round.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then he was nearly sure, but to be quite certain he decided to\r\nread her thoughts. And when he looked into her eyes he saw that she was\r\nwondering which--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI stopped, and Aryenis looked up at me with eyes half-veiled under the\r\ndrooping lids.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhich?\xe2\x80\x9d she whispered, as I remained silent.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhich--he would--kiss first. The fairy mark or her lips?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd then I knew that I won my bet.\r\n\r\nFor a moment Aryenis did nothing, just lay quite still in my arms, one\r\nbeautiful shoulder gleaming in the firelight, looking up at me with\r\neyes now wholly dark and a mouth a thousand times more kissable than I\r\nhad ever known it before. Then a slim arm that seemed made of live fire\r\nslipped round my neck, drawing my head down.\r\n\r\nI suppose it was really a very long time after that before we returned\r\nto mere commonplaces of speech. An altogether new and even more\r\ncompletely adorable Aryenis cuddled cosily against me--an entirely\r\nsurrendered Aryenis, with flushed cheeks and disgracefully and very\r\nbeautifully untidy hair.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you aware that you\xe2\x80\x99ve lost your bet, sweetheart?\xe2\x80\x9d said I at last.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite aware, fairy prince; and ready and glad to pay forfeit.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe slipped up still closer for another kiss.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA piece of mauve ribbon, you remember. The kind you wore that night we\r\nmade the bet.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Harilek mine; my memory is still quite good. I\xe2\x80\x99m wearing such\r\nto-night. Perhaps\xe2\x80\x9d--her eyes were very soft as she looked up--\xe2\x80\x9cperhaps\r\nI had a presentiment I should lose this evening.\xe2\x80\x9d Her eyelids drooped\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI believe you did, sweetheart. And now I\xe2\x80\x99m going to make you pay up.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nAnd I commenced to collect payment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis is the \xe2\x80\x98offensive action\xe2\x80\x99 part, I suppose. But don\xe2\x80\x99t tear my\r\nclothes, _please_, Harilek. That bow comes undone quite easily.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt did--as she said--and between kisses I annexed my prize.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd what are you going to do with it?\xe2\x80\x9d she asked, straightening her\r\ndress as I folded up my piece of ribbon.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPut it in my cap, so that all the world may know what I\xe2\x80\x99ve won.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou\xe2\x80\x99ll spoil it! Give it back to me and I\xe2\x80\x99ll put it on properly\r\nmyself.\xe2\x80\x9d She took it out of my hand. Then, in a proud voice, \xe2\x80\x9cI told\r\nyou that if any one wanted my favour he would have to _take_ it!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd I told you I should remember that remark.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat a wonderful memory you\xe2\x80\x99re getting these days! What else do you\r\nremember?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo I told her other memories, some of which had to be hurriedly\r\nsuppressed by kisses, until the tread of Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s bearers in the\r\npassage caused her to fly upstairs like a startled deer. And it was a\r\nlong time before she joined us in the dining-hall, very neat and tidy\r\nas to hair and frock, but with warm cheeks and eyes that refused to be\r\ndisguised.\r\n\r\nPaulos--as ever--was very understanding, although he did express\r\nanxiety about our appetites. After dinner, when the servants had left\r\nand we three were sitting round the fire, Aryenis next to me, but very\r\nfar off--nearly a foot away she must have been--I decided to burn my\r\nboats.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPaulos,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, \xe2\x80\x9cdo you remember our talk about land?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, lad, I do quite well.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThen I thought I\xe2\x80\x99d tell you now that I\xe2\x80\x99ve decided to take your offer\r\nand stop in Sakaeland.\xe2\x80\x9d I caught Aryenis as she tried to escape. \xe2\x80\x9cYou\r\nsee, I\xe2\x80\x99ve found some one to help me with your people, some one to make\r\nme really one of you. To-morrow you will see a favour of mauve ribbon\r\nupon your steel cap that I wear. And your mail is going to be worn by\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s husband.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI always thought so from the first day I gave it you and Aryenis\r\nhelped you put it on,\xe2\x80\x9d said Paulos simply. \xe2\x80\x9cI won\xe2\x80\x99t talk banalities\r\nabout being glad. You both know that. Come here, Aryenis.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nShe went obediently, but very shyly, and he kissed her twice. \xe2\x80\x9cYou\r\nfound much more than life in the gate, child. You found life, and\r\nwhat is more, the best thing in the world that sometimes--alas! only\r\nsometimes--goes with it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe turned to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGo to my room, Harilek, and fetch me that carved wooden box that\r\nstands upon my table.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI went and brought the box, heavily carved in some scented wood,\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s crest in the panel in the centre, and put it down by him.\r\nHe opened it with a little key, and took out something wrapped in\r\nembroidered silk which he unfolded. As he did so I heard Aryenis,\r\nstanding close--very close now--to me, give a little gasp of pleasure.\r\nIt was a plain thin bangle of gold, hardly thicker than thin wire, but\r\none of the kind which engaged girls among the Sakae always wear. But\r\nfor the most part they are made of silver, since gold is very rare.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, passing it to me, \xe2\x80\x9cI have treasured for more\r\nyears than I like to think. I had it made when I was younger than you\r\nare for a lady I hoped and prayed would wear it. But there was some\r\none else she preferred, and so it has been locked up all these years.\r\nI should like Aryenis to wear it now, if you will take it from me as a\r\ngift.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cGladly, Paulos. I would far rather that than one I might buy myself.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo, with Paulos to witness, I slipped the bangle on to Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s\r\narm, stumbling through the old formal Sakae words of promise, which\r\ntime-honoured custom connects with a betrothal.\r\n\r\nPaulos left us early, which was kind of him, after telling Aryenis to\r\ncome and say good-night to him later.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSatisfied now, my own?\xe2\x80\x9d said my lady, cuddling close as we sat by the\r\nfire in the half-dark after Paulos had gone. \xe2\x80\x9cSakaeland for the rest of\r\nyour life--no more things that fly and no more wonderful toys?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMore than satisfied, sweetheart, since it means _you_ for the rest of\r\nmy life, which is all I ask for. You\xe2\x80\x99ve shown me that everything else\r\nis toys, and between us we\xe2\x80\x99re going to find the things \xe2\x80\x98that really\r\nmatter.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m so glad that you understand, even though you are a man. But,\r\nHarilek\xe2\x80\x9d--shyly--\xe2\x80\x9chow long have you been in love with me? _Really_ in\r\nlove, I mean?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEver since that night outside the gate, I think, heart\xe2\x80\x99s delight.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m so glad. You see, I wasn\xe2\x80\x99t in love with you until ever so long\r\nafter that. Not until--oh, until--\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cUntil when?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis buried her face in my shoulder.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh, not--not until we\xe2\x80\x99d gone quite three miles on the camel next\r\nmorning. At least, I wasn\xe2\x80\x99t sure till then.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThat was a long time, Shahzadi,\xe2\x80\x9d I laughed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIt was.\xe2\x80\x9d She looked up reprovingly. \xe2\x80\x9cBut I really liked you quite a\r\nlot before that, too. But tell me, Harilek, what are we going to do\r\nnow?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe are going to get married the very instant your father\xe2\x80\x99s finished\r\noff the Shamans. We\xe2\x80\x99ve wasted a lot of time already.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis veiled her eyes again as she answered. \xe2\x80\x9cYes--perhaps we\r\nhave--only really it was _you_ that wasted it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMauve-bound eagle feathers,\xe2\x80\x9d said I.\r\n\r\nMy Shahzadi buried her face in my arm once more, and it took a lot of\r\npersuasion--of the labial kind--before I could see it again.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXV\r\n\r\nSHAMANTOWN\r\n\r\n\r\nBefore us towered up the great walls of Shamantown, grey weathered\r\nstone, rising up for forty feet and more before jutting out into\r\noverhanging galleries, arrow-slitted through all their length. All\r\nround the grim walls ran a sheer rock crevice, in which--twenty feet\r\nbelow us--flowed a slow stream of sluggish, black, oily water. This\r\nprecipitous moat was crossed at one point by a narrow bridge of natural\r\nrock, the one weak spot in an otherwise impregnable defence.\r\n\r\nOn the far side of the bridge the entry-way ran in a narrow passage,\r\nflanked by loopholes, at whose end were the great gates of iron-shod\r\ntimber, nowise different from the stone one we had seen in the _tangi_.\r\nBut that place of death was now hidden from us by the stupendous wall\r\nof cliff under whose shelter nestled the Shaman stronghold. Lying in\r\ngrotesque twisted attitudes about the farther end of the bridge and in\r\nthe narrow passage were the bodies of some of the men Kyrlos had lost\r\nin his first efforts to storm his way in.\r\n\r\nThe walls were crowned with tall catapults, and now and again a great\r\nstone or a shower of lighter stuff would crash past where Kyrlos,\r\nAndros, Wrexham, and I crouched in the shelter of a timber mantlet\r\nstudying the entry. Or a long-shafted arrow would thud into the stout\r\nwood or stand quivering near by in the damp soil. Away, on either\r\nhand, reaching round to the cliffs that backed the city, was our long\r\nbesieging line, breastwork and sentry\xe2\x80\x99s shelter, catapult and wooden\r\ntower, with behind them the little tents and huts of Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s army, for\r\nwe had driven the Shamans to their lair, and ringed them with a ring of\r\nsteel.\r\n\r\nBehind us, in all the twenty miles of jagged hill country that Wrexham\r\nand I, with his train of mysterious engineer stores, had traversed\r\nafter crossing the fertile river plains beyond the Blue Sakae country,\r\nwas no single Shaman, only the gaunt bands of outlaws and masterless\r\nmen, and the raiding gangs of the Brown Sakae, who roved hither and\r\nthither pillaging what the Shamans had left. But these constituted no\r\nmenace to us, and could be dealt with at leisure once the chief enemy\r\nhad been crushed.\r\n\r\nWe had ridden from Aornos a week before, and Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s dear farewells\r\nwere still fresh in my memory, the last glimpse of her on her grey\r\nmare at the turning of the lane into the Aornos road, where she and I\r\nhad ridden to await Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s party, still vivid to my mind. For two\r\ndays afterward we had ridden steadily southwest, past the battle-field\r\nof the Astara with its heavy-winged vultures and jet-black ravens,\r\npast the frontier forts, over the ravaged fields and derelict villages\r\ninto the maze of Shaman hills, where now and again upon some prominent\r\npeak we saw the glitter of steel in the little stone-ringed shelters,\r\nmarking the detachments left by our people as they followed the\r\nretreating Shamans.\r\n\r\nOn our arrival Kyrlos had greeted me open-armed, and I felt, indeed,\r\nthat, as Paulos insisted, I had become one of themselves. Aryenis and I\r\nhad written to her father the day after that unforgettable evening, and\r\nhis answer was in all ways satisfactory, while his words, when we met,\r\nleft no shadow of doubt as to his real pleasure at the news we had sent\r\nhim. Andros, whom I half-expected to find anything but friendly, was\r\nfriendship personified.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSo you are now loudly one of us, Harilek,\xe2\x80\x9d he had said as he greeted\r\nme. \xe2\x80\x9cI told you at the Astara that you were to be envied, and now that\r\ngay touch of colour in your cap proves my statement true. You have\r\ntaken the fairest flower in all Sakaeland, but--and I speak as one\r\nknowing--you have fairly earned it. I know Aryenis will be utterly\r\nhappy, and that is the greatest wish that I--her friend--can have.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd he wrung my hand, looking me honestly in the eyes. I consider that\r\nAndros is all that a man ought to be.\r\n\r\nI had joined the army at Aornos almost a stranger. I rejoined it\r\nin front of Shamantown as one coming back to his own, with Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmen--who, reinforced, had preceded us by three days--fallen in under\r\nPhilos to lower blade in salute as we rode in, and many acquaintances\r\nto greet me with honest, if disconcertingly straightforward,\r\nappreciation. The lower ranks swarmed about Payindah, for whom they\r\nentertained a real friendliness, and I saw him but little that\r\nevening. His stay with John at Miletis had been productive of still\r\ngreater admiration of Sakaeland and Sakae ways due, perhaps, to the\r\nnow indefinite period we were like to remain in the country. Perhaps\r\nthe matter of Aryenis had also somewhat to do with it, and he was\r\nvery insistent on the accuracy of his forecasts in that direction.\r\nI think also that the charms of Temra\xe2\x80\x99s sister-in-law, a well-made,\r\npleasing-looking damsel with dark locks, had some corner in his\r\nthoughts. He seemed to have picked up a lot more Sakae in the last\r\nfortnight, and I had noticed that women are quicker teachers than men.\r\n\r\nThe last month had been productive of so much, it seemed to me, as\r\nI reflected in the shelter of our mantlet--productive of a complete\r\nalteration in life, above all of that greatest of gifts at which\r\nAryenis had hinted as we rode to Miletis the first time: \xe2\x80\x9cNot only\r\nlife, but lots and lots more.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nKyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s voice brought me back to the present.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd now, Wrexham, my friend, will you outline your plan once more? It\r\nseems to me good, if, indeed, this wondrous powder of yours will work.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWork I hope it will, Kyrlos. It is not of the best, for I have had to\r\nuse crude materials, but our experiments make me think it should serve\r\nour turn.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIt was only the day we left Aornos that John had told me what was the\r\nbulk of his mysterious \xe2\x80\x9cengineer stores.\xe2\x80\x9d Nothing less than coarse-made\r\ngunpowder. As I have mentioned, he spent all his time pottering about\r\nthe workshops or visiting the markets in Miletis, and considering what\r\nmodern conveniences might be made with local material. Among his other\r\nfinds had been the discovery of saltpetre. Sulphur was common, and\r\ncharcoal was, of course, to be had in unlimited amounts, for the Sakae\r\nuse it a good deal for household purposes, small braziers which can be\r\ncarried from room to room.\r\n\r\nThe first two attempts to storm the Shamans\xe2\x80\x99 defences had led him to\r\nthe conclusion that the siege would last for months if some means\r\nother than the medi\xc3\xa6val ones available could not be found. Hence his\r\ntalks with Kyrlos and Andros, culminating in his return to Miletis\r\naccompanied by his crooked-nosed engineer friend. His experiments had\r\njustified his hopes, and, still more wonderful, none of his band of\r\nassistants had so far blown themselves up, though many were blackened\r\nand speckled of face and hand, and singed of brow and moustache.\r\n\r\nBut they were full of keenness, and what was almost as important,\r\nthey obeyed Wrexham implicitly. So now--stored under safe guard--was\r\na pile of tarred sacks filled with John\xe2\x80\x99s home-made powder, and long\r\ncoils of fuse, the sewing of which had taken many women many days.\r\nCoarse-grained stuff it was, and the fuse burned with an irregularity\r\nthat would have horrified any inspector of ordnance stores, but--it did\r\nburn. So with his score of henchmen the irrepressible John proposed to\r\ncross the little bridge at dawn, dump his joyously uncertain powder\r\nagainst the gates, lay his hopelessly erratic fuses, touch them off,\r\nand hope for the best.\r\n\r\nBehind him was to be a storming party under Henga ready to rush the\r\ngate defences if and when the powder exploded, while following on\r\ntheir heels would come Andros with the bulk of the troops to storm\r\nthrough the town up to the main citadel. I was thankful for the still\r\ndoubtful leg which prevented me from running much, being quite content\r\nto assist Alec and Payindah with a rifle in covering the loopholes as\r\nthe explosive party went in. But Alec--whether from a desire to shine\r\nin Zin\xc3\xa9\xe2\x80\x99s eyes or from honest lust of battle I cannot say--intended to\r\njoin Henga in the assault. Myself, I proposed to follow very quietly\r\nin the crowd, having no desire to get mixed up with a hand-to-hand\r\n_m\xc3\xaal\xc3\xa9e_ until my leg was good once more.\r\n\r\nI listened to John explaining the details of his plan, Kyrlos\r\nlistening gravely, and Andros\xe2\x80\x99s quick brain ready with ever-pertinent\r\nquestions. The plan as plan was quite simple. Wrexham with ten men\r\nwith powder-bags would cross the bridge and lay their charges. With\r\nthem would go ten of Henga\xe2\x80\x99s men to protect them in their work as far\r\nas protection was possible; but the chief danger lay in missiles from\r\nthe walls, and against these little could be done. Behind them would\r\nbe twenty picked stalwarts of Stephnos\xe2\x80\x99s troops with bags of earth to\r\ndamp the powder, and lastly, six men with lighting gear, led by the\r\ncrooked-nosed engineer.\r\n\r\nIf the charges could be laid and fired--both of which propositions\r\nwere distinctly doubtful in view of the narrow approach, the poor\r\npowder, and the uncertain fuses--there was no doubt that the\r\nShamans--completely unaccustomed to explosives--would be thrown into\r\nsuch confusion that Henga\xe2\x80\x99s party should be able to rush the gate\r\ndefences, and we should then win our way into the city. But John was\r\nconfident that it could and would be done.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99m laying six fuses, and some of them must work. I\xe2\x80\x99ve drilled my\r\nparty day after day at Miletis until they\xe2\x80\x99re word perfect. I had a mud\r\nreplica of the gateway made, same as we used to do before attacks in\r\nthe war, and every man knows his job. I suppose we\xe2\x80\x99ve laid that charge\r\nthirty times, and the dummy puffs I put in at the end generally went\r\noff. The only thing missing was the Shamans popping at us through the\r\nloopholes. But with a decent modicum of luck we shall do it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nCertainly if it could be done he was the man to do it; and early next\r\nmorning, as I watched the shadowy masses of men collecting noiselessly\r\nin position for the assault, saw the dim glitter of cap and weapon,\r\nheard the soft chink of mail and the swish of leather, listened to\r\nthe whispered words of command, I felt that, if energy and resolution\r\ncounted at all in the scales, we deserved to win. With three seasoned\r\nfighters like Andros, Henga, and John Wrexham to direct, youths of\r\nthe type of Stephnos to lead, and infantry of the kind I had commanded\r\nat the Astara to follow, given an open road not all the Shamans in\r\nShamantown could block our way.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTime\xe2\x80\x99s getting on,\xe2\x80\x9d said Wrexham, looking at his wristwatch, luminous\r\nin the darkness. \xe2\x80\x9cWe shall be able to see the walls in another twenty\r\nminutes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nFive minutes later Henga reported his storming party in position. Then\r\ncame Andros for a last word or two before the ball opened. The jagged\r\nmountains to the eastward were clear-cut against the lightening sky as\r\nJohn with his powder-men and their escort moved silently toward the\r\nbridge--now faintly visible in the gloom--to disappear in the formless\r\ndark ahead. A sleepy sentry\xe2\x80\x99s hail broke the still silence, and a\r\nmoment later, as the sandbag party dashed on to the bridge, a wavering\r\ntorch sprang into light above the battlements to whirl downwards and\r\nvanish as one of Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s party flung himself upon it. Loud shouts and\r\ncries above the walls told us that the Shamans had realized that an\r\nattack was again afoot, and arrows began to whiz down upon the bridge,\r\nstriking sparks from the stonework, while above the gates a great\r\nbeacon flamed into red light, showing the explosive party clustered\r\nunder the great doors at the far end of the narrow entry-passage.\r\n\r\nThen back across the bridge, running heads down for dear life among\r\nthe glancing arrows, came the powder-men. Nine of them we counted--the\r\ntenth lay still where he had fallen on the bridge, one limp arm\r\ndangling above the dark gulf, the slender arrow-shaft in his back stark\r\nblack against the stonework, now grey in the growing light.\r\n\r\nTwo minutes later the shrill call of Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s bugler brought the\r\nlighting party racing over the arrow-swept causeway, the last man\r\nacross spinning forward over the unguarded side, splash into the\r\nsluggish stream below, as an arrow took him full in the chest. And as\r\nthey crossed, the sandbag party came leaping back over the bridge.\r\nBy some chance seventeen of them returned untouched, though now the\r\nfull dawn light had come, but the other three lay dead in the passage\r\nbeyond. John was all right, they told us, and the powder in position.\r\nThere was now light enough to shoot, and we three opened with our\r\nrifles upon the wall above the gates, while away to right and left\r\nour bowmen loosed flight after flight of arrows against the packed\r\ndefences. The dawn silence had given place to a medley of shouts, of\r\nhigh-pitched cries, of clamorous bugle notes, and on the walls in front\r\nhurried rush and clash of armed and half-armed men.\r\n\r\nThen suddenly back in a whirl down the passage came a dozen men,\r\nsome bleeding from wounds, the bugler with an arrow sticking through\r\nhis arm, and--thank goodness!--at the back of the bunch, John\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nunmistakable sturdy figure with Firoz and the crooked-nosed engineer\r\nbehind him. They neared the bridge, arrows flying all about them. Then\r\nthe man in front of Wrexham pitched forward on his face, struggled and\r\nlay still. The Sakae engineer tripped over him, went down, and, as he\r\nrose again, slid down once more, clutching his leg below the knee,\r\ntrying to pull out an arrow.\r\n\r\nHe had dropped behind John and Firoz, who, not noting his fall, came\r\nflying across, untouched. The engineer tried to crawl on to the bridge\r\namid the hail of arrows. But Forsyth, running like a greyhound, was out\r\nand over the gulf before we even realized what he was doing. Stopping,\r\nstooping, and turning all at once, he started back with the engineer--a\r\nlight wiry man--in his arms. With great long strides he raced back over\r\nthe bridge, and, unscathed, laid the wounded man down under cover just\r\nahead of us. Our men cheered him like mad as he returned, for the Sakae\r\nprize personal courage above all things in the world. Certainly Zin\xc3\xa9\r\nwould have no cause to worry about the way her favour had been borne.\r\n\r\nAlmost as he reached us there was a great sheet of red flame in front,\r\na hot breath, a jar like a blow in the face, and a thunderous roar\r\nas the fort gate and the surrounding walls vanished in a dense cloud\r\nof thick white smoke, and Henga and his company--Forsyth in the\r\nvan--swept across the bridge, axe and sword and spear-point gleaming in\r\nthe morning light. With them went John, followed by Firoz to see if the\r\npowder had done its work.\r\n\r\nBut as the smoke cleared with it went our doubts. One of the great\r\niron-bound wings of the door had clean vanished, while the other hung\r\ndrunkenly from its shattered hinges, and in the dark gap we could see\r\nthe last of Henga\xe2\x80\x99s men crowding into the defences. A moment later\r\nAndros\xe2\x80\x99s bugles sang to the assault, and his men poured over the bridge\r\nin an unceasing stream of close-packed ranks. We watched them crush\r\nthrough the shattered gateway, while on the walls above we saw Henga\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmen fighting their way back, clearing the parapets on either side to\r\nsecure the entrance passage.\r\n\r\nIt was light enough for glasses now, and once I made out on the\r\nright-hand wall Alec\xe2\x80\x99s tall figure, pistol and sword in hand, forcing\r\nhis way into the Shamans, blade and axe awhirl about him where Henga\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nstout Sakae settled outstanding scores of raid and rapine of years\r\npast. The enemy were pressed back and ever back, until the walls were\r\nclear of them right down to the bridgehead, and the arrows ceased to\r\nwhiz down about us.\r\n\r\nA little later, riding with Kyrlos, I passed up through the narrow\r\npassage, strewn, alas! with men of ours, in through the broken,\r\nblackened gates, up the steep entry-way, and so into the rabbit-warren\r\nof Shamantown, littered with stark corpses and dying men, desolate\r\nbroken house-doors, and wailing, dishevelled Shaman women, and once or\r\ntwice a drawn-visaged Sakae woman--prize of some past raid--shrilling\r\nher glad p\xc3\xa6an of hate at the retribution that had come at last.\r\n\r\nAnd once, one of our Blue Sakae in worn leather, his bloody sword\r\nhanging from his wrist, and his arms about a girl who clung to him,\r\nher face close to his. I shall never forget the wonderful light of\r\nunbelievable hope dawning in the girl\xe2\x80\x99s eyes as she understood that\r\nthe past had gone like an evil dream, that life had opened out anew,\r\nand from black despair had come all joy and gladness, nor the look of\r\nquiet happiness on the man\xe2\x80\x99s gaunt face as he realized that he had,\r\nindeed, cheated fate and won back all that made his life.\r\n\r\nWe pushed on up the main street amid the shattered shops. Andros\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndiscipline was good, and there was no looting as yet. The Sakae were\r\nfar too busy killing, for the Shamans gave no quarter, looked for none,\r\nand got but little. There was bitter house-to-house fighting in some\r\nquarters, little bodies of men fighting in the narrow lanes where they\r\npenned isolated groups of Shamans into _culs-de-sac_, and killed them\r\nout. But the bulk of our troops had pressed on toward the great cliff\r\nface behind the city, where, hewn into the solid rock, was the citadel.\r\n\r\nThe dead and wounded were thicker again as we drew near the open space\r\nbelow the cliffs and then checked, where ahead of us the fight eddied\r\nand swayed about the narrow archway leading into the rock. The first\r\nrush of Andros\xe2\x80\x99s men had cleared right up the main street into the\r\nopen square, where high above us showed the rock-hewn windows, whence\r\nthe chief Shaman gazed down upon the huddled mass of houses below,\r\nlike a vulture craning its evil gaze from its foul roost. Grim above\r\nthe frowning entrance were the long projecting beams whence swayed\r\non weathered ropes limp corpses of our men--captured in the earlier\r\nassaults. The kites and ravens circled about them, perching on the\r\ndangling forms or hovering about the eddying fight below.\r\n\r\nThe narrow gateway was choked with bodies, and, as Kyrlos and I came\r\nup, pushing our ponies through the crush of men, we saw Andros with\r\nForsyth, who had evidently joined him after the city wall had been\r\ncleared, followed by a rush of swordsmen, disappear into the dark\r\npassage beyond, and the fight round the entrance stilled and ceased as\r\nthe last enemy were beaten down. We waited awhile, looking up at the\r\ntremendous wall above us, whence rained down stones and arrows, and\r\nsaw upon the topmost terrace pigmy figures in glinting steel. John and\r\nFiroz pushed their way up to us.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow\xe2\x80\x99s the show, Harry? Henga\xe2\x80\x99s finished mopping up below. He\xe2\x80\x99s coming\r\nup with his men now, red-hot to get into the citadel and finish off\r\nsome blood feud he\xe2\x80\x99s got on hand.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDon\xe2\x80\x99t know much what\xe2\x80\x99s doing. Andros and Alec with a lot of men are\r\ninside that gate ahead now. Isn\xe2\x80\x99t it a hell of a place!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLook at those poor devils hanging there!\xe2\x80\x9d said John, pointing. \xe2\x80\x9cHenga\r\ntold me the Shamans killed their prisoners. But that one was a woman!\r\nSee? Bloody swine! Here, I\xe2\x80\x99m going after Andros to help in the finish.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI had started with the best of good intentions to avoid all unseemly\r\nbrawls, but somehow or other I found myself throwing my reins to one\r\nof the men and following John into the dark blood-smeared gate with\r\nPayindah and some of my archers behind me. We followed a long, dark,\r\nwinding passage, smooth with the passing of centuries, grimy with the\r\nsoot of torches. Now and then we tripped over huddled forms, and here\r\nand there passed wounded men making their painful way back to the\r\ndaylight outside. At one corner, looking into some windowless cells,\r\nlit now by the red glow of torches, we saw some of Andros\xe2\x80\x99s men. They\r\nwere standing silent with grim faces, while two of their number were\r\nfreeing an almost unrecognizable thing that had once been a man--Blue\r\nSakae by the tattoo-marks on his shoulders--from a contraption of\r\nrusty iron bands and chains that bound him to the wall. Sightless and\r\nmutilated, if ever anything cried aloud for vengeance that poor human\r\nrag, that still just breathed, did so. I was nearly sick as I came out\r\nand went on up the passage, and I could hear John\xe2\x80\x99s teeth gritting.\r\n\r\nThen, in an open circular space like a great well, still all hewn from\r\nthe solid rock, we came upon the vanguard of our people, Andros and\r\nAlec directing, where, clustered upon a flight of rock-hewn steps,\r\nseveral men strove with hammer and crow to prize open an enormous\r\ncircular iron door which closed the top of the shaft as a trapdoor does\r\na well. The air was hot, and I could see the sweat on the men\xe2\x80\x99s faces\r\nas they worked in the torches\xe2\x80\x99 smoky glare. Alec came down the steps\r\nwhen he saw us, his mail scarred and dirty, blood down one leg from a\r\nscratch across the thigh, and a baresark light in his blue eyes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome on, John; for God\xe2\x80\x99s sake, lend a hand! They\xe2\x80\x99ve shut that trapdoor\r\ndown and got a fire going on top!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWrexham went up the steps where the men beat ineffectually upon the\r\niron door, the clanging echoes of their blows ringing dully in the\r\nwell-like shaft. He laid his hand on the iron and drew it away with an\r\noath. Then he studied the trapdoor and the wall around it for a while\r\nbefore coming down to where Andros had joined Alec and me at the foot\r\nof the shaft.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThey\xe2\x80\x99ve stimied us all right for the moment,\xe2\x80\x9d he said, sucking his\r\nburnt hand. \xe2\x80\x9cYou could hammer on that all day without making any\r\nimpression. And before long the whole thing will be red-hot. Powder\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nour only chance, though I don\xe2\x80\x99t know if I can get it into place without\r\nbeing pushed off ourselves in the process. Luckily the bags are tarred,\r\nso we can wrap wet blankets round them as a precaution against sparks\r\nfrom the torches. Here, Alec; you can go quicker than Harry. Cut along\r\nand get up my sapper blokes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe gave the doctor a long list of gear to bring up. Then he turned and\r\nexplained his plan to Andros, who hurried off to improvise another\r\nstorming party.\r\n\r\nThe heat was getting stifling, and the men peeled off their mail\r\nand leather. I took another look around the shaft in the flickering\r\ntorchlight. There were slits around us, evidently loopholes of a\r\nflanking passage, and before each waited an archer with bow ready\r\nstrung and arrow in place, ready to loose at the first movement. From\r\nthe bodies dotted about I guessed that those loopholes had paid for\r\ntheir construction when our people first got into the shaft. But the\r\nenemy had been driven out now and made no sign.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI\xe2\x80\x99d like to have driven a chamber under the edge of the trapdoor,\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nsaid Wrexham, mopping his face, \xe2\x80\x9cbut the whole thing\xe2\x80\x99s solid rock. It\r\nmust have taken years and years to make.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow are you going to do it now?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSimply pile up the powder in the middle, and block the passage with\r\nsandbags to prevent it blowing back. It\xe2\x80\x99ll be a three-hour job, at\r\nleast. God send a spark doesn\xe2\x80\x99t push us all off while we\xe2\x80\x99re working. We\r\nmust have a chain of watermen going all the time to keep things damp.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWell, I\xe2\x80\x99m going back outside for a bit; it\xe2\x80\x99s too hot in here. I\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\ntell Andros to send up more men to relieve your birds at the loopholes,\r\nand then I\xe2\x80\x99ll bring up my own people to take a hand.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSo, calling Payindah and my men, I went back down the long dark\r\npassage with its evil prison cells, and, warned by experience, did not\r\ninvestigate too closely. There were men of ours in most of them seeking\r\nround with torches, and from the looks on their faces I argued there\r\nwould be scant shrift for such of the enemy as were caught above.\r\n\r\nAt last I stood in the bright sunlight at the entrance, blinking like\r\nan owl, and drinking in great gulps of clean air after the f\xc5\x93tid\r\natmosphere within, feeling like one come straight out of hell.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXVI\r\n\r\nTHE GATE AGAIN\r\n\r\n\r\nThere was no fighting near by, though sounds of battle still came from\r\nthe buildings on my right, where some of the enemy were resisting. On\r\nthe far side of the open space our men were being reorganized, and\r\nall down the long street small bodies of troops were collecting the\r\ninhabitants so as to clear that quarter of the town. The first lust\r\nfor killing had passed, and, as I entered the main street, I passed\r\nsullen groups of prisoners, powerfully built, cruel-looking men,\r\ndarker-skinned than their captors. Again I remarked that faint trace of\r\nMongoloid blood that I had noticed in Atana\xe2\x80\x99s face.\r\n\r\nSome looting had started, as was inevitable, but it was quickly put\r\ndown with a firm hand, and all valuables and stores were collected\r\nunder guard, to be distributed in due shares later. Kyrlos stood for\r\norder and good government, and he intended to administer Shamanland\r\nunder strict military rule after the war. As he told his people, they\r\ncould not afford to kill off all the Shamans, since their knowledge of\r\nmetal-working and their mining skill--they really controlled all the\r\nBrown Sakae mines--could ill be spared.\r\n\r\nHeadquarters were in a big house about a hundred yards down the street,\r\nwith a flat roof, whence one could overlook most of the town. And there\r\nI found Kyrlos with some of his chiefs portioning out the town for them\r\nto clear up and hold for such time as we stayed in the city. Andros was\r\nbelow talking to Henga, who had just arrived from mopping up the gate\r\ndefences. From the grim look on his face, I could see that the latter\r\nwas counting the moments till he could find Atros, who so far had not\r\nbeen seen, nor was there any news of his body being among the dead.\r\nHenga greeted me with a smile as I limped in.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA good fight, Harilek! I love your Wrexham more and more. And the\r\ndoctor, too, is a man after my own heart. Seldom have I seen such stout\r\nsword-play as he made in the Shaman ranks, though he uses the edge more\r\nthan we do. Yes; a good fight!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHe looked as if he had passed a pleasing morning. His cap was bitten\r\nacross by a long sword-gash that had dinted the steel, his mail was\r\nhacked in half a dozen places, the over-collar of his under-leather\r\njerkin had been ripped across by some sharp weapon, but his grey-blue\r\neyes were steady as ever.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cA good fight, but comes a better,\xe2\x80\x9d he continued. \xe2\x80\x9cWhen Wrexham has\r\nblown in the citadel door as he broke down the fort gate, then I lead\r\nthe storming party--\xe2\x80\x99tis Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s own promise--and then\xe2\x80\x9d--his mouth set\r\nhard again--\xe2\x80\x9cI shall speak with Atros.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSome one brought us a jug of wine, and we washed out our dusty throats,\r\nHenga solemnly spilling a few drops on the floor to thank his gods for\r\na good fight. We sat over our drink for a few minutes, and then Andros\r\ngot to his feet.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI see the doctor with Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s sappers and their stores, Harilek. How\r\nlong will they take, think you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAbout three hours, Wrexham says. But he will want two or three changes\r\nof men, for the heat inside is stifling. If it suits you, I will take\r\nup my men with Philos. They are collected in that courtyard at the\r\ncorner.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf you will, Harilek. I was going to send some of my men, but, since\r\nyou understand this new kind of war, it will perhaps be better if you\r\ngo. If the rest of us are ready in two hours, will that do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite. We shall be longer, I think.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAndros tightened up his belt and went off to give out more orders,\r\nwhile Henga and I joined Philos and his cousin, who with their men were\r\nseizing the opportunity for a rest and a bite of food. We had been\r\nafoot since long before dawn. I told Philos to bring them up to the\r\ngate and come ahead himself for orders, and then I led Henga along the\r\ndark passage up to the shaft, where, in a stokehold atmosphere getting\r\nhotter every moment, John with his first shift of workers was blocking\r\nup the passage. Above us in the darkness the iron door now glowed a\r\ndull sullen red.\r\n\r\nThe powder was piled under blankets, which a chain of men handing skins\r\nof water up the passage kept continuously damp. We had no safety-lamps,\r\nnothing but the flaring, crackling torches, and one little spark on the\r\npowder in that confined space would send the lot of us into eternity.\r\nMinute after minute the wall of sandbags grew, and the sweating men\r\nstumbled along the dark passage with their loads, faces and chests\r\ngrimed with the torches\xe2\x80\x99 smoke and dripping with sweat. We had been\r\nthere an hour and a half and more, when John ordered his sappers to get\r\nthe fuses ready.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBetter get along now,\xe2\x80\x9d he said to us. \xe2\x80\x9cHenga has to get his party in\r\nposition, for another half-hour will see us ready. As for you, Harry\r\nand Alec, you\xe2\x80\x99re doing no good here now. There\xe2\x80\x99s no point in all of\r\nus going west if anything goes wrong. Besides, you\xe2\x80\x99ve other people to\r\nthink of. Be standing by half an hour from now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWith that he sent Henga, Alec, and me away. It was true that we three\r\nwere of no particular use in the shaft, now that the less technical\r\npart of the work was completed, and my men were getting ready to leave.\r\nNevertheless, as I followed them and Philos, filing down the passage,\r\nthese reflections did not render any the more pleasant my last glimpse\r\nof John\xe2\x80\x99s sturdy figure among his grimy engineers, busy with their\r\npowder-bags and fuses in the glow of the spluttering torches, when one\r\nlittle spark-- However, it was no good anticipating trouble; that comes\r\nof itself without any seeking.\r\n\r\nWhen we emerged into the daylight once more, we found Andros\r\nsuperintending the troops getting into position, and Henga went off to\r\njoin his company. Alec again insisted on accompanying them, and left me\r\nwhen he saw them falling in. Our preparations drew the attention of\r\nthe watching enemy above, and some heavy stones and a few arrows came\r\ndown, doing but little harm, however.\r\n\r\nPresently came word that no more water was required, and the last\r\nshifts of the working parties filed out into the sunlight, grimed and\r\nblinking. Another ten minutes brought the bulk of Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s sappers.\r\nThen at last four more figures who clustered about the gateway, last\r\nof them John himself. Three minutes later there was a dull roar in the\r\nheart of the rock, and--visible to the watchers farther back, though\r\nnot to us close under the cliff--a leap of red flame upon the cliff-top.\r\n\r\nA long pause to let the gases escape up the shaft, and then John, with\r\na few men with ropes and lights, went in, for the confined space in the\r\nshaft might now be filled with mine fumes, though we hoped that the\r\nstrong northerly wind blowing into the passage from our end, combined\r\nwith the draught created by the great fires burning above the trapdoor,\r\nwould clear out any gas formed by the explosion. And, luckily, so it\r\nproved, for almost immediately word came back that it was safe, and the\r\nstorming party was to advance at once before the enemy could close the\r\nway again.\r\n\r\nHenga\xe2\x80\x99s men poured into the passage for what Forsyth called \xe2\x80\x9cthe\r\nlast fence,\xe2\x80\x9d and--all my cautious resolutions thrown to the winds--I\r\nfollowed them with Andros at the head of the supporting column. Ahead\r\nof us shouts and cries, clang of blows, dull thud of falling bodies,\r\nand crash of stones in the shaft, and then, coming to where Wrexham\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nsappers stood by the reopened barricade, we were aware of daylight\r\nabove us. Stumbling over the fallen d\xc3\xa9bris and the twisted forms\r\namong it, we clambered up the steep stairs, shivered and wrecked by\r\nthe explosion, and climbing through the opening previously blocked by\r\nthe great iron door--now shattered fragments of still-glowing metal\r\nscattered around--came out on the steep cliff-side.\r\n\r\nIn front of us--close-packed--raged a swaying, surging _m\xc3\xaal\xc3\xa9e_ where\r\nHenga\xe2\x80\x99s men sought to drive the Shamans up the steep road to where on\r\nthe hilltop in an open space showed the low stone buildings of the\r\nchief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s palace and the living-quarters of the citadel.\r\n\r\nTen yards ahead of me in the _m\xc3\xaal\xc3\xa9e_ that swayed now backward, now\r\nforward, in little eddies of struggling men, was John fighting with\r\nthe short-handled pickaxe he had used to clear the barricade in the\r\npassage. His face was grimed like that of a miner from his own Durham\r\npits, but his eyes were alight with lust of battle. I saw the pickhead\r\ncrash into the forehead of a Shaman knifeman ere a new eddy in the\r\nbattle hid him again. On either side were Forsyth\xe2\x80\x99s tall figure and\r\nHenga\xe2\x80\x99s great shoulders.\r\n\r\nThe extra weight of Andros\xe2\x80\x99s column, now pouring out of the shaft\r\nmouth, settled the scales in our favour, and, step by step, fighting\r\ntooth and nail, the enemy were driven backward up the hill, check and\r\nsway and surge forward again over the limp forms underfoot. Behind us\r\nthe town--lit by the westering sun--lay spread out like a map, and\r\non the edge of the drop behind us--clear-cut against the sky--Andros\r\nwith his standard-bearer signalling down that we had made good the\r\nentrance. Then he joined us again as the fight drove relentlessly\r\nforward up the steep slope, and with one final rush we surged into the\r\nchief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s palace in a pack of steel. Somehow my game leg got me\r\nthere, though well behind the leaders: Andros with his dancing plumes;\r\nStephnos with his keen young face and yellow locks looking like some\r\nangel of destruction; John, Henga, and Alec, with dripping blade and\r\nblood-smeared pick, smashing their way through the now wavering foe.\r\n\r\nThe last resistance died away as we swept into the low-pillared halls\r\nand out again to the back of the palace, where in front of us--hidden\r\nby yet one more wall of rock--lay the cleft of the gate and the\r\nvultures. But no trace found we of that fiend from the nether pit--the\r\nchief Shaman--as we hunted out the fleeing foe from hole and corner,\r\nfrom dark-shadowed room and ghostly hall, with red torch and redder\r\nsteel. Spear-point and sword and reeking pickhead checked and sank as\r\nthere was no more living flesh to stay their relentless way, and our\r\ngrim-faced swordsmen halted to tie up wounds and get breath.\r\n\r\nBut while we stayed uncertain on the farther exit of the palace, Henga\r\ngave a loud cry and leaped forward as a man slipped from cover at a\r\ncorner to bolt down a flight of stairs beyond into a gloomy passage.\r\nJust one word, \xe2\x80\x9cAtros,\xe2\x80\x9d but that was enough for me, and game leg and\r\nall I followed the flying figures, Philos, Stephnos, Payindah, and a\r\ndozen men at my heels. We raced down the stairs past screaming women,\r\npast darkened rock-cut rooms, and came out at the end upon a little\r\nplatform giving upon the gorge over the gate of death.\r\n\r\nAnd there we stayed, for on the very verge of the open space above the\r\nsheer void, guarded only by a ledge a few inches high, two mail-clad\r\nfigures, locked together, struggled and fought above the cavernous\r\ndepths below. They reeled and fell, but as we closed Henga shrieked to\r\nus to stand back. The locked figures rose again, neither willing to\r\nloose grip, and then crashed to the ground once more; but this time\r\nHenga was on top, and his fingers writhed about the Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s throat.\r\n\r\nThen, just as he had dealt with Atana, so dealt he with Atros, speaking\r\nto him slowly the while, as the man\xe2\x80\x99s face worked and the sweat stood\r\nout upon his brow. And there on the sheer cliff, hundreds of feet above\r\nthe vultures below, Henga exacted the last farthing of his debt. Then\r\nrising to his feet, he swung up the limp body and hurled it out into\r\nthe dim gulf, leaning over to watch it spinning down, arms and legs\r\nwhirling through the air. Then he turned to us grimly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI think such carrion would poison even the vultures. Note you he was\r\nnot in the fight, but lurking in the palace while better men than he\r\nwent forth to death. Atana had, at least, courage.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI leaned out over the giddy drop, and saw opening before me the great\r\ncleft up which we had first come to Sakaeland. At the foot--veiled\r\nalready by the gathering shadows--was the open place of death, the\r\ncircling vultures wheeling upward, disturbed by the fall of Atros\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nbody. Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s words came back to me, \xe2\x80\x9cEre the spring buds show, I\r\nwill feed your master and his friends to the vultures in the gate.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nThe little twisted trees above us were still void of leaf, bare of the\r\nleast little bud.\r\n\r\nThen we made our way back into the palace now thronged with our\r\nmen, seeking high and low for the Shaman chief. We passed through a\r\nhoneycomb of narrow passages, and a warren of chambers hewn into the\r\nrock. The dark winding stairs and gloomy tunnels had carried us down\r\nperhaps three hundred feet, when we came to another maze of rooms--a\r\ncrowd of tawdry-clothed women huddled in the corners--the archers\xe2\x80\x99\r\nquarters above the gate. Through these we passed into a small pillared\r\nhall lighted with torches set in iron wall-brackets, with a single\r\narrow-slit overlooking the gate of death.\r\n\r\nThere in his black robes, upon a carven chair supported by writhing\r\nfigures in stone, sat the chief Shaman looking at us with dead\r\neyes--his hands resting upon the carven arms of his chair--and\r\nsprawling at his feet, face down on the bloodstained floor with a knife\r\nhilt protruding from his back, the black-robed figure of his head\r\ncouncillor--slain, we guessed, by his master lest his knowledge might\r\naid us.\r\n\r\nWe could get no details from our prisoners: doubtless none saw that\r\nlast scene. But from the crystal phial still clutched in the dead hand\r\none could reconstruct some of it. The sudden blow that struck down the\r\nother unsuspecting figure, the deliberate assuming of the seat in the\r\nchair of judgment, the smoothing out of the folds of the rich sombre\r\nrobe, the last thought of hate as the poison was swallowed that left us\r\nwith only the mask of what had been.\r\n\r\nThe cruel, narrow eyes looked out at us from the hairless,\r\nparchment-like face that was strangely devoid of wrinkles, smooth as\r\nwax under the close-fitting, black, fur-trimmed cap; the thin-lipped\r\nmouth still bore traces of the last sardonic smile at cheating us to\r\nthe end. Kyrlos could feed only a dead man to the vultures, naught\r\nbut the empty shell of the lamp remained. Seated there the dead figure\r\nwas imposing, but when we moved it, I realized what Aryenis had meant\r\nwith her taunt about a \xe2\x80\x9cmisshapen vulture\xe2\x80\x9d: the scraggy neck in the\r\nfur collar, the distorted rounded back, the talon-like hands, had all\r\nsomething of kinship with the loathsome birds without.\r\n\r\nAnd, thinking of Aryenis, I looked around the chamber with its\r\ncarvings, foul but vivid representations of torture and mutilation, and\r\nI shivered involuntarily. How many shrinking prisoners, men and women\r\nalike, had prayed there in vain, not for life, but just for clean,\r\nspeedy death! In a corner was a sheaf of arrows, black-shafted and\r\nwhite-lettered, such as we had found in the gate. The use of these we\r\nlearnt from one of the guard archers whose life had been spared. When\r\nthe chief Shaman considered a prisoner to be of no further use, he was\r\nmade to pick an arrow from the cloth-swathed sheaf. One does not like\r\nto think of the scenes that room must have witnessed. Then, according\r\nto the lettering upon it, once outside the gate the tortured wretch\r\nmight feel the prayed-for point in his heart, or know the lingering\r\ndeath of many hours as he lay crippled among the vultures and the\r\nobscene horrors of the place of death.\r\n\r\nSo, leaving a guard upon the chamber, we returned to the topmost palace\r\nwhere, in the last rays of the sun just sinking behind the hills,\r\nKyrlos announced to the leading Shaman prisoners his intention of\r\nruling their country, and, with the unanimous assent of his chiefs,\r\nappointed Henga as military governor, and Wrexham to take charge of all\r\nthe mines and metal industries of the Shaman and Brown Sakae countries.\r\n\r\nThat night we slept in the palace, and all next day explored the Shaman\r\ncitadel, cleansing its foul prisons, and giving decent burial to the\r\npitiful remains. Many of our men clamoured for the Shamans to be flung\r\nto the vultures in the gate, but I am glad to say that Kyrlos insisted\r\non more humane measures, slaying only such as were definitely proven\r\nguilty of murder and raid, and allowing the dead to be carried away by\r\ntheir own folk. But none came to claim the chief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s body.\r\n\r\nWhence he came none could tell us for certain. The office was\r\nhereditary, but the advent of this man was a mystery, since his reputed\r\nfather was old beyond even the long-lived Shaman elders, and his mother\r\nnone knew. The chief Shaman and his successor-designate never left the\r\ncitadel, and until attaining years of manhood the Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s heir was not\r\nbrought to the council save only if his father died before he became\r\nof age. Those who knew the history of the dead fiend in the great\r\nchair were dead. Perhaps the secret--if secret there were--lay locked\r\nin the brain of that still figure sprawling on the floor before its\r\nmaster. Of papers and records we found none. Any that existed--and we\r\nknew the Shaman councillors had ancient records of their history and\r\nreligion--must have been hidden or destroyed.\r\n\r\nBut, since that brain is dead, the chief Shaman\xe2\x80\x99s twisted soul,\r\nreturned to the judgment-seat of Him who made it, we shall never\r\nknow. All that matters is that Sakaeland is now at peace under the\r\nstrong firm governance which--so long as men are men, not angels--can\r\nalone ensure that each man reap what he has sown. The Shaman hold,\r\ncleansed of its foul traces, is manned by clean-visaged Sakae bowmen,\r\nand straight-mouthed, honest-eyed Henga dispenses simple, unbiassed,\r\nsoldierly justice in the open sunlight before the gate of the dark\r\npassage where John Wrexham and his sappers laboured under the glowing\r\ntrapdoor.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXVII\r\n\r\nARYENIS AND I FIND SOME THINGS THAT MATTER\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Aornos road rolled behind our horses\xe2\x80\x99 feet as Aryenis and I rode to\r\nPaulos\xe2\x80\x99s house in the last evening sunshine of late February. A sky of\r\ncloudless blue, glint of sunlit water in the little channels under the\r\nsilver-barked trees, and in Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s eyes the light of sunshine clear\r\nand unalloyed, as from time to time she looked at me with a little\r\nsmile of all happiness.\r\n\r\nBehind us--a discreet ten horse-lengths away--rode Payindah, with just\r\nhalf a dozen of our own men, sparkle of burnished mail over new-cleaned\r\nleather, polished steel cap gay with favours of Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s own colour.\r\nAnd as we rode through the scattered villages the people flocked about\r\nus with handfuls of winter flowers and garlands of the little yellow\r\ncrocus, first harbinger of the coming spring.\r\n\r\nFor, as all Blue Sakaeland knew, this was our wedding day, and we were\r\nriding from the banquet in Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s palace at Miletis to Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhouse, or rather to our house, since the previous day it had been\r\nformally made over to Aryenis and me, Paulos having taken up his\r\nresidence at Miletis.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSince you are leaving Kyrlos, child,\xe2\x80\x9d he had said to Aryenis, \xe2\x80\x9cit\r\nis only right that I should come and live with him, and take up life\r\nagain as it was when we were both young men and found each other\r\nall-sufficient. Life ends mostly as it begins.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nMy recollections of the previous few days were blurred and hazy. There\r\nwere ceremonies unceasing; signings and sealings of crabbed parchments;\r\ndinners long and tedious, where endless people monopolized Aryenis to\r\nmy complete exclusion; hours of business with Paulos and his steward,\r\nlearning all the details of his lands. Also ceaseless interviews with\r\ntailors, these last brightened by Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s presence, since, in\r\naccordance with Sakae custom, my wedding outfit was her gift. Outfit is\r\nabout the only word, for the Sakae bride-to-be seems to consider it her\r\nbusiness to clothe her man for a lifetime, judging by the number and\r\nvariety of garments that appeared necessary.\r\n\r\nAltogether it had been rather a tedious week, and there were times when\r\nI envied Alec, who could contrive to get off with Zin\xc3\xa9 whenever he\r\ncould spirit her away from Aryenis, since they were not to be married\r\ntill the spring.\r\n\r\nThen yesterday I saw my lady but for a few short moments, and that\r\nsurrounded by Zin\xc3\xa9 and half a dozen more girls for a last inspection of\r\nher wedding dress.\r\n\r\nThis morning I had filled the usual puppet part that is allotted to the\r\nbridegroom in countries like Sakaeland, where women rather more than\r\nhold their own. Alec and Andros--who had insisted on being one of my\r\nsupporters--took charge of me, dressed me, all but shaved and washed\r\nme, never let me out of their sight for an instant, while Andros filled\r\nevery otherwise unoccupied moment in coaching me as to the part I had\r\nto play.\r\n\r\nFinally, they had almost lifted me into the saddle when with John,\r\nPhilos, and a score more friends, and a hundred of my Astara men behind\r\nus, we rode down the broad garlanded streets to the dark little church\r\nopposite to Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s palace, and I was marched up to the cushions in\r\nfront of the rich altar-veils that concealed the sanctuary. The air\r\nwas heavy with incense, and the little high windows threw but a faint\r\nlight into the half-gloom, where the tapers burned before the heavily\r\nframed old pictures, and the richly decorated little shrines, where,\r\nhalf-seen, were metal-framed representations of gospel scenes and of\r\nsaints, like Russian ikons.\r\n\r\nThe church was thronged with folk in bravery of silk and brocade,\r\nheavily embroidered tunics and fur-tipped cloaks, lightened by the rich\r\nsheen of satin, the cold glitter of silver and warm sparkle of gold\r\nfrom hair ornament and bangle, from belt-buckle and sword-hilt.\r\n\r\nWhen I had been shepherded through the frankly staring crowd to stand\r\nin my place, supported by Andros and Alec on either side, my sole\r\nconsolation was that presently Aryenis would be kneeling beside me on\r\nthe richly worked cushion a yard away on the tesselated floor. I sought\r\nrefuge from the hum and buzz of whispered conversation behind me in\r\nconcentrating on that cushion with its curious gold thread-work, until\r\nI think I knew the pattern by heart.\r\n\r\nPresently--ages it seemed to be--there was the clatter of hoofs\r\noutside, sound of trumpets, and thereafter I felt less self-conscious,\r\nfor I knew that all the crowd behind me would have eyes but for two\r\nthings--the men for Aryenis, and the women for her clothes. Andros\r\nand Alec closed in upon me. Then footsteps behind, the rustle of talk\r\ndied away for an instant, and from the corner of my eye I caught the\r\nfirst glimpse of my lady in flowing drapery of silk, filmy veil of\r\nflower-wreathed white over the thick coils of her red-gold hair, glint\r\nof gold from ring and bracelet, as on Kyrlos\xe2\x80\x99s arm she took her place\r\nby the cushion on my left, long-lashed hazel eyes fixed resolutely\r\non the sanctuary curtains in front, lips of warm coral against the\r\nunwonted pallor of her face.\r\n\r\nFollowed the old, old ceremonies, the music of Greek of the earliest\r\ncenturies, the readings, the prayers, the promises. Then Aryenis and I\r\nalone before the white-locked priest with the ascetic face, who seemed\r\nto have stepped straight out of some old stained-glass window, as I\r\nslipped the flat heavy gold bangle over her elbow to show that we were\r\none for so long as life should last, and kissed her two hands in Sakae\r\nfashion in token of all loyalty. Thereafter she kissed me once upon the\r\nforehead, and we turned to walk down the aisle under an arch of blades.\r\n\r\nThen the slow ride back to the palace, the banquet, the toasts, the\r\ngreetings, until well on in the afternoon we rode out of the south\r\ngate--thronged with all our friends, and, it seemed to me, with half\r\nthe city as well to see us go--and took the Aornos road.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cContent, sweetheart?\xe2\x80\x9d said I, as the last glimpse of Miletis vanished\r\nin the trees.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAll content, fairy prince,\xe2\x80\x9d said she slowly. \xe2\x80\x9cAnd you? Have you found\r\nthe things that really matter?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAll of them, Shahzadi, since I\xe2\x80\x99ve found you, and with you go all the\r\nrest.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd you are quite sure what they are?\xe2\x80\x9d asked my lady, with questioning\r\neyes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cQuite sure. Your companionship, your friendship, you when I\xe2\x80\x99m tired\r\nor lonely, you at the end of every day, you and I just absolutely one\r\nperson, and all the real intimacy and happiness that go with that, the\r\nonly foundation for wedded life.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn fact, just you and me, to put it shortly,\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis laughing\r\nhappily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Shahzadi, just that. And you will show me that you want that--and\r\nme?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMust I show you?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAlways. It isn\xe2\x80\x99t only women that want to be told and shown the things\r\nthey know. Men also sometimes. You see a man may come--probably will\r\ncome--to disbelieve the things he knows, or thought he knew, unless\r\nhe\xe2\x80\x99s shown them clearly and repeatedly.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then, O Harilek?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd then, Shahzadi, good-bye to happiness. Will you say good-bye to\r\nit?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNever!\xe2\x80\x9d said Aryenis, decisively. \xe2\x80\x9cI shall always show you the things\r\nyou know. I shall just keep your eyes and ears, your mind and your\r\nevery sense, so full of them that you\xe2\x80\x99ll never have an instant to think\r\nof anything or any one except them and me. That please you, man of\r\nmine?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, lady mine. That sketches heaven as in your song, \xe2\x80\x98Just a man and\r\na woman, all in all.\xe2\x80\x99 One can\xe2\x80\x99t want more than that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThen we rode in silence a space up the lane to Paulos\xe2\x80\x99s house, where\r\nAryenis had first talked of the things that matter, and of that\r\ngreatest of gifts that man or woman might give if they had the right\r\nmarks. The sun sank behind the western hills, leaving the eastern wall\r\nthat ringed round Sakaeland one vivid glow of crimson snow above the\r\nlong purple and lilac shadows under the cloudless sky.\r\n\r\nI helped Aryenis from her mare, and we went up the grey stone steps to\r\nthe open door with the firelight gleaming in the hall. She checked on\r\nthe threshold, and I remembered just in time that it is ill fortune for\r\na bride to cross the doorway of her home for the first time on foot. I\r\npicked her up in my arms and carried her into the hall, and as I put\r\nher down our lips met in the first kiss in our own home, in the firelit\r\nhall with the carved timbers, the half-seen trophies, the gleaming wood\r\nof floor and chair and settle.\r\n\r\nAfter dinner we sat on the couch by the fire in silent content at being\r\none at last--just realizing to the full the bliss of being together, of\r\nreally belonging each to each. Just such another evening of flickering\r\nfirelight playing across Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s hair and face, across the white\r\nslimness of neck and arm, as recalled those evenings of the past--the\r\ndragon evenings at Aornos, the ribbon evening in this same hall of ours.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI want you to say really nice things to me to-night, please, Harilek.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat shall I say, sweetheart? Tell you that your frock is pretty, or\r\nthat you are looking your very nicest?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo; not things like that.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked down into Aryenis\xe2\x80\x99s eyes, upturned in the half-light, gleam\r\nof white below the luminous wide circle of the iris, and on the soft\r\ncurves of her parted lips.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTell you that I love you, then?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI felt her arm draw tighter round me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cTell you that I love you with every little bit of me? \xe2\x80\x99cause that\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ntrue, you know. I just worship you, sweetheart.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAryenis\xe2\x80\x99s arms were very tight as she strained against me, drawing my\r\nlips down to hers, pausing to whisper ere they met:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAnd, man of mine, I love you--always--with everything that\xe2\x80\x99s in me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd in that long dear kiss I could feel the rhythm of her measured\r\nwords, and all the depth of feeling that prompted them--words that\r\nmoved me more than any I have ever heard in all my life; and in the\r\nsilences that followed as we sat in the firelight glow I could almost\r\nhear the echo of her words ringing down the long avenue of years in\r\nfront, like the music of the stars above--unchanging, undying rhythm\r\ndown the trackless vaults of time.\r\n\r\nAt last Aryenis stood up, smoothing the ruffled coils of the burnished\r\ncopper of her hair, slim arms outlined against the dark wood panelling.\r\nI was going to get up, too, when she bent over and kissed me,\r\nwhispering as she pushed me back on to my seat:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI want you to look for pictures in the fire just a little while,\r\nHarilek. All the things you\xe2\x80\x99ve seen since you came to Sakaeland, and\r\nthen come and tell me what you\xe2\x80\x99ve found.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnd with another kiss she was gone.\r\n\r\nSo for a while I sat still in front of the glowing logs, and picture\r\nafter picture came up into my mind: Aryenis of that morning, Aryenis\r\nof the mauve ribbons, Aryenis of the desert days, and through and with\r\nthem all Aryenis of the sunlit Aornos road--the dearest best companion\r\nthat ever man could have--until finally I went up the dark wood stairs\r\nto the big dressing-room next to our bedroom, where the lamplight\r\nglittered on my mail and weapons and on the carved presses round the\r\nwalls.\r\n\r\nStill with my fireside pictures fresh in my mind, I blew out the little\r\nsilver lamp and passed into our room--with the dancing firelight\r\nplaying on the warm hangings, and throwing long shadows on the\r\nrug-strewn floor.\r\n\r\nAnd then--all my pictures faded and merged into one, now crystallized\r\nfrom vision into warm living reality.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHow very, very beautiful you are, Shahzadi!\xe2\x80\x9d I whispered, awe-struck.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI want you to say that to me every day of my life--husband,\xe2\x80\x9d said\r\nAryenis.\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE END\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nFOOTNOTES:\r\n\r\n\r\n [1] Water-skins.\r\n\r\n [2] Fur-lined skin coat.\r\n\r\n [3] British East India Company.\r\n\r\n [4] Mule trunk.\r\n\r\n [5] Pronounced Er-yennis.\r\n\r\n [6] British Government.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTRANSCRIBER\xe2\x80\x99S NOTES:\r\n\r\n\r\n Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.\r\n\r\n Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.\r\n\r\n Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.\r\n\r\n Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARILEK ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'The Research Magnificent'

'Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)'

b'The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Research Magnificent, by H. G. Wells\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\r\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\r\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\r\n\r\n** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook, Details Below **\r\n** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. **\r\n\r\nTitle: The Research Magnificent\r\n\r\nAuthor: H. G. Wells\r\n\r\nPosting Date: May 10, 2011 [EBook #8975]\r\nRelease Date: September, 2005\r\nFirst Posted: January 2, 2004\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCharacter set encoding: ASCII\r\n\r\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RESEARCH MAGNIFICENT ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Mike Eschman\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Research Magnificent\r\n\r\nby H. G. 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'With a Vengeance'

'Woodley, J. B.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of With a Vengeance\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: With a Vengeance\r\n\r\nAuthor: J. B. Woodley\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Knoth\r\n\r\nRelease date: November 14, 2009 [eBook #30475]\r\n Most recently updated: January 5, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITH A VENGEANCE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Illustrated by KNOTH]\r\n\r\n\r\nWith a Vengeance\r\n\r\nBy J. B. WOODLEY\r\n\r\n\r\n _Keep this in mind in teaching\r\n apprentices: They are future\r\n journeymen--and even masters!_\r\n\r\n\r\n October 10, 2119\r\n New San Francisco\r\n\r\nToday, at precisely 9:50 a.m., Kyle became First Imperator of Terra. His\r\ncoup was so fantastically direct and facile that I am almost tempted to\r\nbelieve that old cliche "the time was right."\r\n\r\nWell, however badly it can be expressed, I suppose the world _was_ ripe\r\nfor this sort of thing. I can remember when much the same used to\r\nhappen in elections. One man would win over another by a tremendous\r\nmajority, and historians would then set about to show how "the time was\r\nright."\r\n\r\nWhy do I persist in tormenting myself with that phrase! Analytically, I\r\nmight say I resent this new aristocracy of politics. Specifically, I\r\nmight say I resent Kyle.\r\n\r\nAnd both are true, both are true.\r\n\r\nThis swing, though, to absolute monarchy, complete with the installation\r\nof the Kyle Dynasty--damn him! This is something which psychologists,\r\nnot historians, must explain. Has the age of the Common Man, so bravely\r\nflaunted for over one hundred years, truly come to nothing? Would people\r\nreally prefer a figurehead and a symbol of undisputed authority?\r\n\r\nIn this instance, one may again conclude that "the time was right."\r\nContact with planets like Mars and Venus undoubtedly had its influence.\r\nI must confess that the televised audiences with the Mrit of Venus and\r\nthe Znam of Mars _did_ make Terra\'s President--I should say, late\r\nPresident--look a bit seedy. I daresay there is such a thing as a too\r\ncommon Common Man.\r\n\r\nKyle was such, twenty years ago. His name wasn\'t Kyle then, although it\r\nwas something very like that. I must see if any of the old ledgers are\r\nabout! I\'d like to see what the Imperator\'s name was when His Most\r\nImperial Majesty was an apprenticed nobody!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n October 12, 2119\r\n New San Francisco\r\n\r\nI found it! Buried in stacks of dust behind the old printing press that\r\nwas once the heart of my _Beacon-Sentinel_. There were others there too.\r\nSpent a delightful morning with them, reading back through those old\r\naccount books.\r\n\r\nI wonder whatever happened to Hastings? And Drew? Best linotype men I\r\never had. They became pilots, or something, as I recall. Too bad, too\r\nbad. They could have had such brilliant futures, both of them. Why they\r\nfelt they must ally themselves with the non-thinking, muscle-flexing\r\nvariety of mankind--of which our Ruler is an excellent example--I\'ll\r\nnever know.\r\n\r\nAh, yes, Kyle! In those days he was Kilmer Jones. I don\'t remember him\r\ntoo well, actually, except for the day I fired him.\r\n\r\nI suppose he was right in changing his name. We couldn\'t very well have\r\nan Imperator named Kilmer the First, or Jones the First. Much too\r\ncommon, not at all in keeping.\r\n\r\nGawky fellow--that Kilmer. When Bard brought me a sample of his work--I\r\nguess I\'ll have to call it that--we both had a good laugh over it!\r\nAtrocious spelling! Couldn\'t follow the proofreader\'s marks. Indeed, I\r\nwonder if the fellow could even read! The punctuation! And the grammar!\r\n\r\nI called the boy to the office that morning--or was it the next day? No\r\nmatter. I called him in and told him, as kindly as possible, that I\r\nthought there were other vocations to which he might be better suited.\r\nThe irony of it! Kilmer Jones--Kyle I!\r\n\r\nAnd he stood there, I remember, with those seventeen-year-old hands that\r\nwere all knuckles and bone and chapped skin, twisting those hands and\r\nshifting his weight from one foot to the other.\r\n\r\n"Please, Mr. Booth," he said, his voice cracking. "I ain\'t got no other\r\njob in mind. I wanna be a noospaper man. I ain\'t got no--"\r\n\r\nIf not for that "ain\'t got no," I think I might have relented. But no\r\none is going to ruin the English language as he did! Not in my offices!\r\n\r\nI took him to task severely for his offensive usage, outlined a correct\r\nexample of what he had attempted to say, gave him a brief lesson in the\r\nhistory of the tongue, and explained why it had been chosen as the\r\nofficial Terran speech. I think my conclusion was, "You\'ll be much\r\nbetter off in a position which requires you to quote neither Milton nor\r\nShakespeare nor any author save possibly those who write the comic\r\nstrips."\r\n\r\n"Got no training," he said softly. (I supposed it was to keep his voice\r\nfrom exhibiting its usual adolescent gymnastics.)\r\n\r\nI shuddered slightly, I remember. "You mean, \'I _have_ no training.\'"\r\n\r\n"Yeah ..." softly again. "Yeah, Mr. Booth."\r\n\r\n"_Yes!_" I cried impatiently. "Not \'yeah,\' but _yes_!"\r\n\r\nI searched for his severance pay on my desk, wondering who the devil had\r\nhired him in the first place. Gave him three weeks pay, as I recall it,\r\none more than necessary.\r\n\r\nUnmannerly pup! He just stood there for a minute and then finally left\r\nwithout even a "Thank you," or "Good-by."\r\n\r\nAnd this is the man who is Kyle the First, Ruler of Terra at the age of\r\nthirty-seven! I wonder what he is like now....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n January 1, 1\r\n New San Francisco\r\n\r\nThere is no longer any need to wonder. Surprisingly few heads have\r\nrolled, but apparently Jonesy chooses to exhibit his power in other\r\nways.\r\n\r\nThanksgiving Day, a custom preserved in certain portions of the\r\nDirectorate of North America, is three weeks away--even though it is\r\nJanuary.\r\n\r\nThe Year One. There used to be some childish joke about the Year One.\r\nDon\'t remember it just now.\r\n\r\nThanksgiving harvest in January. Christmas celebration in February.\r\nSpring planting in July! To say nothing of the inconvenience this has\r\ncaused in my bookkeeping department! I suppose the man will now try to\r\nchange the weather to suit his new calendar!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n January 8, 1\r\n New San Francisco\r\n\r\nHe can\'t last! He can\'t! A dictator is one thing. A monarch is another.\r\nBut Kyle is something else!\r\n\r\nNaturally he had to remove certain persons from his way. And his summer\r\npalace in the plains region of America--that\'s all right, that\'s all\r\nright! An authority of Kyle\'s stature is expected to remove\r\nundesirables, and to have a summer palace, and a winter palace, and\r\nanything else he wants! Of course!\r\n\r\nBut why this? Why _this_ of all things!\r\n\r\nNo newspapers! Just like that! _He_ waves an edict, and just like that,\r\n_no newspapers_! The _Beacon-Sentinel_ has been a great paper for the\r\nlast twenty-five years! It was nothing, and I was nothing, and together\r\nwe became a Voice! And now again, we are nothing!\r\n\r\nOh, I see what\'s behind it! It\'s revenge, that\'s what it is! Because he\r\nonce couldn\'t become a "noospaper" man, he\'s taking his vengeance this\r\nway.\r\n\r\nA man as petty as that shall be overthrown! Mark my words! And the\r\nclumsiness of it!\r\n\r\nI see what he is! I know him! He\'s still that pup of seventeen, playing\r\nking with the world, twisting his hands in glee over his childish\r\ntriumph.\r\n\r\nNo subtlety! Just a direct pushing over an applecart he couldn\'t steer!\r\nDoesn\'t matter whose apples you destroy, does it, Jonesy? Just push it\r\nover--push it over!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n January 16, 1\r\n New San Francisco\r\n\r\nClosed the _Beacon-Sentinel_ yesterday. My savings are enough to take\r\ncare of me for a few years. After that--ah, well, I am no longer a young\r\nman. I am glad that Elsa is not here to see this.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n February 12, 1\r\n New San Francisco\r\n\r\nReceived a letter this morning, requesting me to appear at the chambers\r\nof His Most Imperial Majesty, Kyle the First, on Tuesday of next week.\r\nHis Most Imperial Majesty can see me between 10:15 and 10:25 on that\r\nmorning.\r\n\r\nTen minutes--rather a brief spell in which to roll another head.\r\n\r\nI find myself amazed, though. Is this man so truly powerful that he\r\nneeds no police to make his arrests for him? Can he really send messages\r\nvia jetmail and be certain his enemies will not try to escape?\r\n\r\nI don\'t want to attempt flight. Life without my work is no longer life.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n February 17, 1\r\n Kyleton Palace, North America\r\n\r\nI don\'t understand. I\'ve gone over it twice, and I don\'t understand. If\r\nonly Elsa were still with me! I could talk to her. She would help me\r\ndecipher what it\'s all about.\r\n\r\nThis morning, at 10:15 sharp, I was taken to the public audience chamber\r\nin the palace.\r\n\r\nHis Majesty was seated behind a desk facing the doors. Behind him, on\r\nthe wall, was His Coat of Arms.\r\n\r\nHe stood up and walked toward me, waving away the guards. "How are you,\r\nMr. Booth?" he said. And offered me His Hand!\r\n\r\nI recovered my presence of mind, of course, and replied as was fitting.\r\n\r\nAnd then He said it! "I shall be at liberty later this week to discuss\r\nmore fully the details of these past years." (Shades of "ain\'t got no!")\r\n"Meanwhile, my secretary will give you a complete dossier on my planned\r\nOfficial Bulletin." He lighted a cigarette after offering me one. "I\r\nshould deem it an honor," he continued, "to have a man of your literary\r\nversatility and--I must add--your vast practical experience become Chief\r\nEditor of that Bulletin. The publication, which I should enjoy\r\nchristening _The Terran Beacon-Sentinel_--with your permission,\r\nsir--shall be more than my official organ. It shall set the standards\r\nfor the coming newspaper world."\r\n\r\nHe cocked an eyebrow at me and smiled. "I believe we are in perfect\r\naccord about certain standards, are we not, Mr. Booth? The deplorable\r\ngrammatical practices of some newspapers! Well, really, Mr. Booth! I\r\nfeel assured of your agreement!"\r\n\r\nHe led me around the desk and pointed to the Coat of Arms. As He stood\r\nsilent, I felt obliged to look more closely. I had seen it before, of\r\ncourse, but seeing it now, greatly enlarged, I was able to make out its\r\ndetail.\r\n\r\nWhat I had thought was a mere decorative border, I now realized was a\r\nmotif I have seen all my life! A tiny lighthouse sending forth a beam!\r\nThe trademark of my paper!\r\n\r\nAs I stood there, gaping, His Majesty laughed softly and said, "That,\r\nMr. Booth, I felt impelled to include. For, without your most fortuitous\r\ntermination of my apprenticeship in your organization, I should not have\r\nrisen to my present position."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAgain He took my hand and shook it, warmly. His hair is just a bit gray\r\nat the temples, and there are signs of strain on His finely featured\r\nface. Those awkward hands are now strong and purposeful.\r\n\r\nHe apologized that He must return to His duties, and went with me to the\r\ndoor. "My secretary will fill in further details about your new\r\nposition. Newspapers shall once again be published. No--don\'t say a\r\nword, Mr. Booth! I know what you are thinking.\r\n\r\n"Your salary," he continued as we stood at the open door, "shall, of\r\ncourse, be commensurate to your high authority in this new field. Allow\r\nme, now, to thank you most deeply and sincerely for your unwitting aid\r\nin my youth. I assure you, Mr. Booth, I have often thought of that day\r\nwe talked. And I hope to repay you, in some measure, for what you did."\r\n\r\nHe said more, mostly polite phrases of good-by. And then I was outside\r\nafter being handed a folder by some man.\r\n\r\nAn official jetmobile took me to my residence--which turned out to be in\r\nthe East Wing. Here I am, and I don\'t understand. I came prepared to\r\nsuffer heaven only knows what as part of Kilmer Jones\'s childish pattern\r\nfor revenge.\r\n\r\nInstead, here I am, head of the Official Bulletin, titular ruler and\r\nruler-in-fact of the future journalism of the world!\r\n\r\nThere is something behind this--I keep feeling there is. But what? What?\r\nOr is he truly generous, to a degree never before known among absolute\r\nmonarchs?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n February 13, 1\r\n Kyleton Palace, North America\r\n\r\nI am a suspicious and most humble old man. I see now that Kyle\'s\r\ngenerosity amazed me only because I myself would have been incapable of\r\nsuch an action.\r\n\r\nJust now, I fear for His Majesty. I was right, before, when I said there\r\nwas no subtlety in the man. He is too open, too fair, too forgiving. A\r\nruler with such greatness of heart might easily allow some small\r\ninsignificant person in too far, too close. I fear for him!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n February 14, 1\r\n Kyleton Palace, North America\r\n\r\nTomorrow we begin publication! The pressroom is magnificent! I can\r\nhardly wait. It\'s been a long time since I\'ve felt such exuberance.\r\n\r\nThis afternoon I am to conduct a conference of some eight hundred\r\neditors! His Majesty\'s secretary has sent me an outline on Journalistic\r\nStandards, which I shall study after lunch.\r\n\r\nThere was a note attached, in His Majesty\'s handwriting--such beautiful\r\npenmanship, too. "A mere formality," it said, "for, of course, you and I\r\nknow full well what the future of journalism shall be, Mr. Booth."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n Later--\r\n\r\nHow wrong can one man be in one lifetime?\r\n\r\nI wonder now _why_ he changed the calendar. I wonder now what poor devil\r\nhe destroyed then. But _I\'ll_ cheat him!\r\n\r\nI\'ll cheat him yet!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n Obituary, _Trran Bacon-Sntinl_,\r\n Fbruary 16, 1\r\n\r\nTh unfortunat and untimly dmis of Gorg W. Booth is hrby notd with sorrow\r\nby thos who knw and lovd him.\r\n\r\nMr. Booth, formr ditor and publishr of th _Bacon-Sntinl_ of Nw San\r\nFrancisco, Dirctorat of North Amrica, had apparntly bn in poor helth for\r\nsom tim. It is blivd that worry ovr th succss of his nw policy-stting\r\n_Trran Bacon-Sntinl_ was a contributing factor in his suicid lat in th\r\naftrnoon of Fbruary 14.\r\n\r\nHis Most Imprial Majsty Kyl th First has ordrd a fitting monumnt to his\r\nlat lamntd frind. A simpl shaft of granit shall b rctd in th gardn\r\nfacing th Ast Wing of Kylton Palac, whr Mr. Booth mad his residnc. On th\r\nshaft shall b inscribd th lgnd:\r\n\r\n "How bautous mankind is! Oh brav nw world,\r\n That has much peepl in\'t!"\r\n\r\nTh quotation is from _Th Tmpst_. Mr. Booth was a grat admirr of\r\nShakspar.\r\n\r\nAn vn mor fitting and long-livd mmorial is xprssd in th dict rlasd\r\nthrough th offics of His Majsty on th vry day of Mr. Booth\'s dath. It\r\nreeds in part:\r\n\r\n "Th nw linguistic policy on Trra, as dmonstratd in th _Trran\r\n Bacon-Sntinl_, shall hncforth b known as Boothtalk."\r\n\r\nMr. Booth bfrindd Our Imprial Rulr in His youngr days, and, as w all\r\nknow, His Majsty nvr forgts a frind.\r\n\r\n --J. B. WOODLEY\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\'s Note:\r\n\r\n This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ October 1953.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\r\n copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and\r\n typographical errors have been corrected without note. 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"Mr. Chipfellow's Jackpot"

'Purcell, Dick'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr. Chipfellow\'s Jackpot\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Mr. Chipfellow\'s Jackpot\r\n\r\nAuthor: Dick Purcell\r\n\r\nRelease date: December 13, 2009 [eBook #30670]\r\n Most recently updated: January 5, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CHIPFELLOW\'S JACKPOT ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Being one of the richest men in the world, it\r\n was only natural that many people anticipated\r\n the day he would die. For someone should claim--\r\n\r\n Mr. Chipfellow\'s Jackpot\r\n\r\n _by\r\n Dick Purcell_\r\n\r\n\r\n"I\'m getting old," Sam Chipfellow said, "and old men die."\r\n\r\nHis words were an indirect answer to a question from Carter Hagen, his\r\nattorney. The two men were standing in an open glade, some distance from\r\nSam Chipfellow\'s mansion at Chipfellow\'s Folly, this being the name Sam\r\nhimself had attached to his huge estate.\r\n\r\nSam lived there quite alone except for visits from relatives and those\r\nwho claimed to be relatives. He needed no servants nor help of any kind\r\nbecause the mansion was completely automatic. Sam did not live alone\r\nfrom choice, but he was highly perceptive and it made him uncomfortable\r\nto have relatives around with but one thought in their minds: _When are\r\nyou going to die and leave me some money?_\r\n\r\nOf course, the relatives could hardly be blamed for entertaining this\r\nthought. It came as naturally as breathing because Sam Chipfellow was\r\none of those rare individuals--a scientist who had made money; all kinds\r\nof money; more money than almost anybody. And after all, his relatives\r\nwere no different than those of any other rich man. They felt they had\r\nrights.\r\n\r\nSam was known as The Genius of the Space Age, an apt title because there\r\nmight not have been any space without him. He had been extremely\r\nversatile during his long career, having been responsible for the\r\nso-called eternal metals--metal against which no temperature, corrosive,\r\nor combinations of corrosives would prevail. He was also the pioneer of\r\ntelepower, the science of control over things mechanical through the\r\nelectronic emanations of thought waves. Because of his investigations\r\ninto this power, men were able to direct great ships by merely\r\n"thinking" them on their proper courses.\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\nThese were only two of his contributions to progress, there being many\r\nothers. And now, Sam was facing the mystery neither he nor any other\r\nscientist had ever been able to solve.\r\n\r\nMortality.\r\n\r\nThere was a great deal of activity near the point at which the men\r\nstood. Drills and rock cutters had formed three sides of an enclosure in\r\na ridge of solid rock, and now a giant crane was lowering thick slabs of\r\nmetal to form the walls. Nearby, waiting to be placed, lay the slab\r\nwhich would obviously become the door to whatever Sam was building. Its\r\nsurface was entirely smooth, but it bore great hinges and some sort of a\r\nlocking device was built in along one edge.\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen watched the activity and considered Sam\'s reply to his\r\nquestion. "Then this is to be a mausoleum?"\r\n\r\nSam chuckled. "Only in a sense. Not a place to house my dead bones if\r\nthat\'s what you mean."\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen, understanding this lonely old man as he did, knew further\r\nquestions would be useless. Sam was like that. If he wanted you to know\r\nsomething, he told you.\r\n\r\nSo Carter held his peace and they returned to the mansion where Sam gave\r\nhim a drink after they concluded the business he had come on.\r\n\r\nSam also gave Carter something else--an envelope. "Put that in your\r\nsafe, Carter. You\'re comparatively young. I\'m taking it for granted you\r\nwill survive me."\r\n\r\n"And this is--?"\r\n\r\n"My will. All old men should leave wills and I\'m no exception to the\r\nrule. When I\'m dead, open it and read what\'s inside."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen regarded the envelope with speculation. Sam smiled. "If\r\nyou\'re wondering how much I left you, Carter, I\'ll say this: You might\r\nget it all."\r\n\r\nHagen strove to appear nonchalant but his eyes widened regardless. Sam\r\nenjoyed this. He said, "Yes, you\'ll have as much chance as anyone else."\r\n\r\n"You mean as much chance as any of your relatives?"\r\n\r\n"I mean what I said--as much as anyone. I\'ve given them no more\r\nconsideration than anyone else."\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen stared, puzzled. "I\'m afraid I don\'t understand you."\r\n\r\n"I didn\'t expect you to, but that will come later. I\'ll tell you this\r\nmuch, though. No one will be barred. The winner will take all, and the\r\nwinner may be anyone on this planet. My one regret is that I won\'t be\r\naround to see who gets the jackpot."\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen dutifully pocketed the will and left. He returned on other\r\nbusiness a week later. Sam Chipfellow\'s first question was, "Well, what\r\ndid you think of it?"\r\n\r\n"Think of what?"\r\n\r\n"My will."\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen straightened to an indignant five-foot-six. "Mr.\r\nChipfellow, I don\'t like having my integrity questioned. Your will was\r\nin a sealed envelope. You instructed me to read it after your death. If\r\nyou think I\'m the sort of man who would violate a trust--"\r\n\r\nSam put a drink into his attorney\'s hand. "Here, take this. Calm down."\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen gulped the drink and allowed his feathers to smooth down.\r\nAs he set down his glass, Sam leaned back and said, "Now that that\'s\r\nover, let\'s get on with it. Tell me--what did you think of my will?"\r\n\r\nThe attorney flushed. It was no use trying to fool Chipfellow. He was a\r\nmaster at that damned thought business. "I--I did look at it. I couldn\'t\r\nresist the temptation. The envelope was so easily opened."\r\n\r\nSam was regarding him keenly but without anger. "I know you\'re a crook,\r\nHagen, but no more so than most people. So don\'t sit there cringing."\r\n\r\n"This will is--well, amazing, and getting an advance look didn\'t help me\r\na bit unless--" Hagen looked up hopefully. "--unless you\'re willing to\r\ngive me a slight clue--"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll give you nothing. You take your chances along with the rest."\r\n\r\nHagen sighed. "As to the will itself, all I can say is that it\'s bound\r\nto cause a sensation."\r\n\r\n"I think so too," Sam said, his eyes turning a trifle sad. "It\'s too bad\r\na man has to die just at the most interesting point of his life."\r\n\r\n"You\'ll live for years, Mr. Chipfellow. You\'re in fine condition."\r\n\r\n"Cut it out. You\'re itching for me to shuffle off so you can get a crack\r\nat what I\'m leaving behind."\r\n\r\n"Why, Mr.--"\r\n\r\n"Shut up and have another drink."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen did not have long to wait as life-times go. Eighteen months\r\nlater, Sam Chipfellow dropped dead while walking in his garden. The news\r\nwas broadcast immediately but the stir it caused was nothing to the\r\nworldwide reaction that came a few days later.\r\n\r\nThis was after all the relatives, all those who thought they had a faint\r\nchance of proving themselves relatives, and representatives of the\r\npress, radio, and video, gathered in the late Sam Chipfellow\'s mansion\r\nto hear the reading of the will. Carter Hagen, seeking to control his\r\nexcitement, stood before a microphone installed for the benefit of those\r\nwho couldn\'t get in.\r\n\r\nHe said, "This is the last will and testament of Samuel Chipfellow,\r\ndeceased. As his lawyer, it becomes my duty to--"\r\n\r\nAn angry murmur went up from those assembled. Exclamations of\r\nimpatience. "Come on! Get on with it. Quit making a speech and read the\r\nwill, we can\'t wait all day!"\r\n\r\n"Quiet, please, and give me your closest attention. I will read slowly\r\nso all may hear. This is Mr. Chipfellow\'s last testament:\r\n\r\n"_I, Samuel B. Chipfellow, have made a great deal of money during my\r\nactive years. The time now comes when I must decide what will become of\r\nit after my death. I have made my decision, but I remain in the peculiar\r\nposition of still not knowing what will become of it. Frankly, I\'m of\r\nthe opinion that no one will ever benefit from it--that it will remain\r\nin the place I have secreted it until the end of time._"\r\n\r\nA murmur went up from the crowd.\r\n\r\n"A treasure hunt!" someone cried. "I wonder if they\'ll distribute maps!"\r\n\r\nCarter Hagen raised his hand. "Please! Let\'s have a little more order or\r\nthe reading will not continue."\r\n\r\nThe room quieted and Hagen\'s droning voice was again raised:\r\n\r\n"_This place consists of a vault I have had erected upon my grounds.\r\nThis vault, I assure you, is burglar-proof, weather-proof,\r\ncyclone-proof, tornado-proof, bomb-proof. Time will have no effect upon\r\nits walls. It could conceivably be thrown free in some great volcanic\r\nupheaval but even then the contents would remain inaccessible._\r\n\r\n"_There is only one way the vault can be opened. Its lock is sensitized\r\nto respond to a thought. That\'s what I said--a thought. I have selected\r\na single, definite, clear-cut thought to which the combination will\r\nrespond._\r\n\r\n"_There is a stone bench in front of the vault door and I decree that\r\nany person who wishes, may sit down on this bench and direct his or her\r\nthought at the door. If it is the correct one, the door will open and\r\nthe person causing this to happen shall then be the possessor of all my\r\nworldly wealth which lies inside._\r\n\r\n"_Because of the number of persons who will no doubt wish to try their\r\nluck, I decree further that each shall be given thirty seconds in which\r\nto project their thought. A force of six men shall be hired to supervise\r\nthe operation and handle the crowds in the neighborhood of the vault. A\r\ntrust fund has been already set up to pay this group. The balance of my\r\nwealth lies awaiting the lucky thinker in the vault--all save this\r\nestate itself, an item of trifling value in comparison to the rest,\r\nwhich I bequeath to the State with the stipulation that the other terms\r\nof the will are rigidly carried out._\r\n\r\n"_And so, good luck to everyone in the world. May one of you succeed in\r\nopening my vault--although I doubt it. Samuel B. Chipfellow. P.S. The\r\nthought-throwing shall begin one week after the reading of the will. I\r\nadd this as a precaution to keep everyone from rushing to the vault\r\nafter this will is read. You might kill each other in the stampede. S.\r\nB. C._"\r\n\r\nThere was a rush regardless. Reporters knocked each other down getting\r\nto the battery of phones set up to carry the news around the world. And\r\nSam Chipfellow\'s will pushed all else off the video screens and the\r\nfront pages.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nDuring the following weeks, millions were made through the sale of\r\nChipfellow\'s thought to the gullible. Great commercial activity began in\r\nthe area surrounding the estate as arrangements were made to accommodate\r\nthe hundreds of thousands who were heading in that direction.\r\n\r\nA line began forming immediately at the gate to Chipfellow\'s Folly and a\r\nbrisk market got under way in positions therein. The going figure of the\r\nfirst hundred positions was in the neighborhood of ten thousand dollars.\r\nA man three thousand thoughts away was offered a thousand dollars two\r\ndays before the week was up, and on the last day, the woman at the head\r\nof the line sold her position for eighteen thousand dollars.\r\n\r\nThere were many learned roundtables and discussions as to the nature of\r\nChipfellow\'s thought. The majority leaned to the belief that it would be\r\nscientific in nature because Chipfellow was the world\'s greatest\r\nscientist.\r\n\r\nThis appeared to give scientifically trained brains the edge and those\r\nfortunate in this respect spent long hours learning what they could of\r\nChipfellow\'s life, trying to divine his performance in the realm of\r\nthought.\r\n\r\nSo intense was the interest created that scarcely anyone paid attention\r\nto the activities of Chipfellow\'s closer relatives. They sued to break\r\nthe will but met with defeat. The verdict was rendered speedily, after\r\nwhich the judge who made the ruling declared a recess and bought the\r\neleven thousandth position in line for five hundred dollars.\r\n\r\nOn the morning of the appointed day, the gates were opened and the line\r\nmoved toward the vault. The first man took his seat on the bench. A\r\nstopwatch clicked. A great silence settled over the watchers. This\r\nlasted for thirty seconds after which the watch clicked again. The man\r\ngot up from the bench eighteen thousand dollars poorer.\r\n\r\nThe vault had not opened.\r\n\r\nNor did it open the next day, the next, nor the next. A week passed, a\r\nmonth, six months. And at the end of that time it was estimated that\r\nmore than twenty-five thousand people had tried their luck and failed.\r\n\r\nEach failure was greeted with a public sigh of relief--relief from both\r\nthose who were waiting for a turn and those who were getting rich from\r\nthe commercial enterprises abutting upon the Chipfellow estate.\r\n\r\nThere was a motel, a hotel, a few night clubs, a lot of restaurants, a\r\nhastily constructed bus terminal, an airport and several turned into\r\nparking lots at a dollar a head.\r\n\r\nThe line was a permanent thing and it was soon necessary to build a\r\ncement walk because the ever-present hopeful were standing in a ditch a\r\nfoot deep.\r\n\r\nThere also continued to be an active business in positions, a group of\r\nprofessional standers having sprung up, each with an assistant to bring\r\nfood and coffee and keep track of the ever fluctuating market in\r\npositions.\r\n\r\nAnd still no one opened Chipfellow\'s vault.\r\n\r\nIt was conceded that the big endowment funds had the inside track\r\nbecause they had the money to hire the best brains in the world; men who\r\nwere almost as able scientifically as had been Chipfellow himself but\r\nunfortunately hadn\'t made as much money. The monied interests also had\r\naccess to the robot calculators that turned out far more plausible\r\nthoughts than there were positions in the line.\r\n\r\nA year passed. The vault remained locked.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBy that time the number of those who had tried and failed, and were\r\nnaturally disgruntled, was large enough to be heard, so a rumor got\r\nabout that the whole thing was a vast hoax--a mean joke perpetrated upon\r\nthe helpless public by a lousy old crook who hadn\'t any money in the\r\nfirst place.\r\n\r\nVituperative editorials were written--by editors who had stood in line\r\nand thrown futile thoughts at the great door. These editorials were\r\nvigorously rebutted by editors and columnists who as yet had not had a\r\nchance to try for the jackpot.\r\n\r\nOne senator, who had tried and missed, introduced a law making it\r\nillegal to sit on a stone bench and hurl a thought at a door.\r\n\r\nThere were enough congressional failures to pass the law. It went to the\r\nSupreme Court, but was tossed out because they said you couldn\'t pass a\r\nlaw prohibiting a man from thinking.\r\n\r\nAnd still the vault remained closed.\r\n\r\nUntil Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, farm people impoverished by reverses, spent\r\ntheir last ten dollars for two thoughts and waited out the hours and the\r\ndays in line. Their daughter Susan, aged nine, waited with them,\r\npassing the time by telling her doll fairy tales and wondering what the\r\nworld looked like to a bird flying high up over a tree top. Susan was\r\nglad when her mother and father reached the bench because then they all\r\ncould go home and see how her pet rabbit was doing.\r\n\r\nMr. Wilson hurled his thought and moved on with drooping shoulders. Mrs.\r\nWilson threw hers and was told to leave the bench. The guard looked at\r\nSusan. "Your turn," he said.\r\n\r\n"But I haven\'t got any thought," Susan said. "I just want to go home."\r\n\r\nThis made no sense to the guard. The line was being held up. People were\r\ngrumbling. The guard said, "All right, but that was silly. You could\r\nhave sold your position for good money. Run along with your mother and\r\nfather."\r\n\r\nSusan started away. Then she looked at the vault which certainly\r\nresembled a mausoleum and said, "Wait--I have too got a little thought,"\r\nand she popped onto the bench.\r\n\r\nThe guard frowned and snapped his stop watch.\r\n\r\nSusan screwed her eyes tight shut. She tried to see an angel with big\r\nwhite wings like she sometimes saw in her dreams and she also tried to\r\nvisualize a white-haired, jolly-faced little man as she considered Mr.\r\nChipfellow to be. Her lips moved soundlessly as she said,\r\n\r\n_Dear God and all the angels--please have pity on poor Mr. Chipfellow\r\nfor dying and please make him happy in heaven._\r\n\r\nThen Susan got off the bench quickly to run after her mother and father\r\nwho had not waited.\r\n\r\nThere was the sound of metal grinding upon metal and the great door was\r\nswinging open.\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE END\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\'s Note:\r\n\r\n This etext was produced from _Imagination_ April 1956. Extensive\r\n research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on\r\n this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical\r\n errors have been corrected without note.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\'s Mr. Chipfellow\'s Jackpot, by Dick Purcell\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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'The Genius'

'Pederson, Con'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Genius\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Genius\r\n\r\nAuthor: Con Pederson\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Paul Orban\r\n\r\nRelease date: June 17, 2010 [eBook #32861]\r\n Most recently updated: January 6, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENIUS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE GENIUS\r\n\r\n By Con Pederson\r\n\r\n Illustrated by Paul Orban\r\n\r\n[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science\r\nFiction May 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n[Sidenote: _Sethos was a great artist, a talented man, quite possibly\r\nthe most famous man of his time and world. But, alas!--there were other\r\nworlds. And is not the grass always greener...?_]\r\n\r\n\r\nSethos entered the park. Brown autumn leaves crumpled sharply beneath\r\nhis feet, the green grass sank. The sun was nearly gone, and the last of\r\nthe children passed him, chattering as they faded into the twilight.\r\nOnly one other person remained in the park, and she was waiting for\r\nSethos.\r\n\r\n"Ela," he said. "Have you been here long?"\r\n\r\nShe touched his cheek with hers in greeting.\r\n\r\n"Not at all. I\'m in no hurry." She handed him a cigarette as they walked\r\ntogether, then lit her own and breathed deeply of the scented fumes.\r\n"Nothing special about Matya\'s parties--unless she has that intriguing\r\nman there again. What\'s his name? You know--"\r\n\r\n"You must mean Andian, the sculptor. The man who built North Square, to\r\nhear him talk. What about him?"\r\n\r\nEla laughed. "He\'d never heard of my fluid porcelain. Isn\'t that silly?\r\nAfter everyone in West has been overwhelmed with the color effects, he\r\nturns up, a perfect innocent. I showed him pliables."\r\n\r\nSmiling, Sethos recalled it was Ela\'s enthusiasm that had first\r\nattracted him, as it had most of the males in their clique. Then too,\r\nshe was beautiful, with startling gold hair and a delicate round face\r\nthat always aroused flattery. Tonight he felt especially aware of her\r\nbeside him, and the quick beat of her sandals on the pavement.\r\n\r\nThe lights of Matya\'s hillhouse gleamed before them, enticing all who\r\nwandered through West Park this evening. The party had started, as\r\nparties always did, at that unknown instant shortly before the first\r\nguest\'s arrival. It was thriving now, for the colors behind the\r\ncontoured glass facade throbbed as though underwater, and people sat\r\nalong the terraced hillside, talking and inhaling the elegant smoke from\r\nsmoldering chalices that stood around the entrance.\r\n\r\nThey climbed the flagstone path toward the low, pale yellow building.\r\nLuxuriant plants grew thick along the walls, creating a jungle that\r\nextended even to the inner rooms of the house.\r\n\r\n"Sethos, my friend!" said an unsteady voice.\r\n\r\nThe old man was seated in shadow by the house, a glass of sparkling\r\nliquor on the arm of his chair. Against the green background of giant\r\nplants, his frail, pink face resembled a huge bud that would open when\r\ndaylight came.\r\n\r\n"How are you, Paton?" Sethos asked warmly. "I remember you from\r\nsomewhere in East. It must be years.... Weren\'t you gardening with Ana?\r\nOf course--developing a perfect Lyocanthia. What a welcome sight you are\r\namong these woodcutters!"\r\n\r\n"You\'re a fellow greensman now, they say," beamed Paton happily, seizing\r\nhis glass and leaning forward. "Such an honor to us. You work with\r\nsucculents--right?"\r\n\r\nSethos smiled. He watched Ela disappear into the interior of the\r\nsprawling hillhouse, heard her distant laugh become part of the\r\nmachinery of voices. People drifted to and fro across the broad lawns.\r\n\r\n"Yes," answered Sethos, drawing up a chair. "Succulents are my latest\r\njoy. One must specialize. I like to work with growing things, yet I\'d\r\nfeel like a mechanoid if I got involved in crystal sculpture, like my\r\ncharming Ela there."\r\n\r\n"Perhaps--but who else gets such _color_, starts so many new directions\r\nas she? My flowers blush before her crystals." Paton\'s glass was empty,\r\nand with an automatic gesture, Sethos refilled it from a tall flask\r\nstanding nearby, and poured one for himself.\r\n\r\n"Speaking of mechanoids," Paton continued genially, "I had a most\r\nstimulating conversation with Mr. First himself a few days ago. He came\r\nto see me."\r\n\r\nSethos blinked. That was unusual--mechanoids seldom mingled with humans,\r\nespecially those of the primary levels.\r\n\r\n"He\'s very intelligent about flowers," Paton went on, waving his glass\r\nin animation. "We talked about common hedge roses. Did you know he\r\nraises them?"\r\n\r\n"Amazing!" Sethos drank deeply of the fiery liquor. Now the drifting\r\nplumes of smoke from the chalices performed fantasies with his vision,\r\nand his body felt light again, as it had so often in the evenings of the\r\npast few years.\r\n\r\n"Of course I was flattered, having a visit from the _most_ prime\r\nmechanoid. He could have called me, but they are somewhat conscious of\r\nbeing mechanical as it is, and try to be cordial as possible."\r\n\r\nSethos leaned forward eagerly. "Did he say anything about--their\r\nactivities?"\r\n\r\n"Well, that\'s not too interesting to me, because it\'s always just one\r\nchange after another outside. He did say there is a new earth-bridge\r\nbetween the continents. Doesn\'t it seem incredible that they should want\r\nto go to all that trouble? But then, that\'s a mechanoid for you. Always\r\nmaking things bigger. That\'s why I enjoy seeing Mr. First take up\r\nflowers. Maybe he sees things our way himself."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t suppose you\'ve ever been out there, have you?"\r\n\r\n"Out there? You mean, where the mechanoids live? Why, now that you\r\nmention it, I believe I was, once. But a long time ago--I must have been\r\nstill living with my elders. It\'s not very enjoyable. Too big to call\r\nhome, after all." With a short laugh, Paton emptied his glass again.\r\n\r\nSethos frowned. The idea that the world was so large fascinated him. As\r\nhis contemporaries and their ancestors for unknown generations, Sethos\r\nhad passed from dreamy childhood directly into the dream of adult life.\r\nHe could barely recall the days of education, when drugged smoke and\r\nliquor were withheld, and life consisted of a different fairy world. How\r\nhe had loved the gay mechanoid nurses, with their tinkling arms and\r\nbright colors! But of their world, the vast reaches of the planet\r\noutside the tiny circle of men, he knew very little. One fact was plain\r\nto him: it was unthinkably huge.\r\n\r\nSudden music poured from the house, gay and fast.\r\n\r\n"Ha! The dancers!" exclaimed Paton, seeing the rows of gyrating figures\r\nbeyond a pink translucent wall. "You must excuse me. I promised Matya I\r\nwould watch her dance tonight."\r\n\r\nPaton hurried away, leaving Sethos to wander along the dimly lighted\r\nterrace. The party had lightened his senses as expected, yet his\r\nthoughts were heavy. He remembered the library, and the strange legends\r\nin the books. Legends of ancient cities of men, over all the earth, and\r\nof the prehistoric machines used by men to travel great distances. And\r\nalways in the old legends men were very much like the industrious\r\nmechanoids--ever building, ever moving....\r\n\r\nHow he wished he might live in those days! He knew the pleasure of\r\ncreating, for he had been acclaimed a genius in music before he was\r\ntwenty, and his mastery of painting and architecture had won the\r\nadmiration of all the human zone. Still, he was not satisfied, and often\r\nlay awake in the early hours of morning after a stirring party, dreaming\r\nof those long-gone days of empire, when he could have ridden with the\r\nancients through the sky on their winged craft, see their cities rise\r\ntoward the clouds, experience the exciting pace of that life. What\r\nremarkable ambitions they must have had!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs Sethos reached the end of the terrace, he was hailed by a garmenter\r\nnamed Brin, standing with a group of men around a light projector. The\r\ncolors sprayed up about their faces, matching the gaudy orange of Brin\'s\r\ntrousers and the blue of his little plumed hat.\r\n\r\n"Greetings, Sethos! How are the crops up North? Still live with Ela?"\r\n\r\n"They\'re fine, Brin. Live with Ela? No more than anyone else these\r\ndays."\r\n\r\nBrin chuckled. "A neat remark, Seth--I must remember it to your true\r\nlove the next time I have reason to see her."\r\n\r\nThe men laughed appreciatively, the colors wheeling in rhythm across\r\ntheir grinning faces.\r\n\r\nSuddenly three young women converged on the group, having spied Sethos\r\nfrom inside.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Sethos!" one cried. "How wonderful you\'re here!"\r\n\r\n"Are you still composing that _magnificent_ diphonic music?" asked\r\nanother breathlessly.\r\n\r\nGrimly, he realized he was trapped again. Every party brought on\r\nsomething like this. How could he explain to these well-meaning girls\r\nthat he was trying to forget the past, that it bored him, that his music\r\nwas trite and his painting insipid? Still they would clamor for it.\r\n\r\n"Excuse me," muttered Sethos, walking away. His ears rang with their\r\nadulation, but it always sickened him. Efforts he considered nothing at\r\nall were worshiped by the others. It was demoralizing.\r\n\r\nFollowing the path around the corner, he descended from the noise of the\r\nhouse, opening his mouth and inhaling the cool night air as though to\r\ncleanse his lungs. He was growing extremely weary of the people at\r\nparties.\r\n\r\nFrom here he could see the town laid out below, the four directions of\r\nit, and he tried to guess how many times he had walked each street one\r\nend to the other, then turned around and walked back, simply because no\r\none ever considered going straight on.\r\n\r\nAt that moment a tall, lean man approached him. He was a stranger, with\r\na bearing Sethos did not recognize.\r\n\r\n"How do you do, Sethos," he said softly. "I understand you are the most\r\naccomplished of your group. May I ask a few questions?"\r\n\r\nSomeone from across town, obviously. He knew the type--they traveled\r\nbetween the cliques, learning of new trends and ideas to pirate. He had\r\ndone it once himself.\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry. I don\'t have any new goodies for your side of town. Why\r\ndon\'t you go in and pester Brin? He\'s always easy to tap."\r\n\r\n"You misjudge me. I\'m not interested in stealing ideas."\r\n\r\n"I know, I know. But I\'m not for sale anyway."\r\n\r\nAngered, Sethos turned and strode down the hill. The nerve of these\r\napprentices, he thought. Some day they\'ll ask for autographed samples.\r\n\r\nHe stopped. A small autocar had caught his attention. On a wild impulse,\r\nhe opened the door. "Good evening, little servant," he said gently.\r\n\r\nThe desire to move came on him more strongly now. Stooping, he got in,\r\nthe seat cushions adjusting automatically to his posture, and a voice\r\nsomewhere in the drive panel said, "Direction, please."\r\n\r\n_Yes--where to?_ He didn\'t know. But he had to get away.\r\n\r\n"Straight ahead," he ordered, hoping the machine would make the best of\r\nit.\r\n\r\nAs he rode, he wondered desperately what was wrong with him. He was\r\neasily the most talented of men, yet he was unhappy. Perhaps it was\r\nbecause they all treated him so adoringly that he was tired of them. He\r\nsaw nowhere that drive which was so strong in him, the urge to go on to\r\nbigger things. He had sought it in his friends many times before, but\r\ngave up when no one knew what he meant. Even as a child his elders said\r\nhe should have been born a mechanoid. It was a jest that was deathly\r\ntrue.\r\n\r\nTrees flashed by, but as Sethos watched, they slowed in their flight,\r\nand he realized the car was stopping.\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry, this is zone," said the car. "I can go no further.\r\nRedirection, or shall I cruise at random?"\r\n\r\nHe started to affirm, but something stopped him.\r\n\r\nBarely visible ahead were the first low, dark buildings of the mechanoid\r\nworld.\r\n\r\n"No," he answered. "I\'m getting out here."\r\n\r\nHe left the car, walking forward rapidly until the headlights no longer\r\nlighted his path. The trees began to thin out, and his feet struck\r\nconcrete. He knew he was beyond the general limits of human activity.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFear came, now that he was in that land where men never walked. The\r\nbuildings loomed around him, forbidding and dark. Further down the\r\nstreet the lights began, spaced at intervals on the walls.\r\n\r\n"Your attention, please," said a voice at his shoulder. He recoiled,\r\nnoticing for the first time a small yellow mechanoid rolling silently\r\nbeside him. Its face screen watched him steadily.\r\n\r\n"May I remind you that this is no longer the human zone? I can whistle\r\nan autocar for you, if you wish."\r\n\r\nSethos felt a twinge of terror as he said, "No, thank you," and\r\ncontinued to walk.\r\n\r\n_Now it will begin_, he thought. _They\'ll be on me every block. Turn\r\nback. No, don\'t give up now. What can I lose? They won\'t hurt me--it\'s\r\njust a matter of regulation. They can\'t do anything to me for\r\ndisobedience._\r\n\r\nLooking up, he saw stars between the clouds. For a moment he could\r\nimagine that perhaps, once upon a time, men must have longed to reach\r\nout in some way across the tremendous distance to the stars. It was a\r\nstrange sensation, this longing for something obviously unattainable.\r\n\r\n"Hello," said another voice. "Are you lost?"\r\n\r\nSethos glanced at the new figure that accompanied him. It was human in\r\nshape, but the fact that it skated on rollers betrayed its nature.\r\n\r\n"No. I\'m ... just walking." His voice sounded small and guilty in the\r\nstrange city.\r\n\r\n"I see. For exercise?"\r\n\r\n"No--I mean, not exactly. Well, I wanted to see what things were like\r\noutside our zone."\r\n\r\n"Our course."\r\n\r\n_He won\'t stop me_, Sethos thought with determination.\r\n\r\n"Are you someone I should know?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Tenth level," the mechanoid replied, whirring sedately along beside\r\nhim. "I was notified five minutes ago by a circuit walker. He said he\r\noffered to radio for a vehicle, but you did not wish to return."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right." Sethos was nervous now, but maintained his even step.\r\nThey had gone three blocks together, and still he would not slow down.\r\n\r\n"Tell me, Mr. Tenth," Sethos said, trying to appear calm, "do\r\npeople--often walk as I\'m doing?"\r\n\r\n"No, not often." Mr. Tenth took a step across a small puddle, then\r\nresumed skating.\r\n\r\n"What happens if I get tired of walking?"\r\n\r\n"I can direct you to Mr. Third\'s office, if you won\'t mind. He handles\r\nsuch things."\r\n\r\n"And suppose I keep going?"\r\n\r\n"You\'ll be followed by an autocar that will pick you up whenever you get\r\ntired."\r\n\r\n"I intend to keep going," Sethos said, his teeth clenched.\r\n\r\n"Very well." The mechanoid rolled away.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\nSethos was entering the heart of the city. As far as he could see, the\r\nstreets led off into the distance, with the gleaming lights that lined\r\nthe buildings on either side diminishing until they merged at a far\r\nvanishing point.\r\n\r\n_How far does it go?_ he wondered, overwhelmed. _Maybe if I go far\r\nenough, I\'ll find another community like our own, with men living in it!\r\nWhat a discovery that would be!_\r\n\r\nThe low hanging clouds threw back the city\'s glow as far as he could\r\nsee.\r\n\r\nIn the streets there were now several mechanoids, and their number\r\nincreased as he went. Some were prime mechanoids, and resembled humans,\r\nrolling along the slower traffic lanes. Others were specialized workers,\r\nwith longer arms or a number of arms, or with a truck body instead of\r\nlegs. In fact, he saw every gradation between prime mechanoid and\r\nservice vehicle. A bizarre parade!\r\n\r\nA strange little apparatus with three wheels stopped before Sethos.\r\n"Your attention, please," it said. "You are now one-half mile from zone.\r\nThe time is eleven-twenty p.m."\r\n\r\nIt occurred to him to watch for more tenth level mechanoids, and he saw\r\nthree immediately, moving with him several yards away. An autocar\r\ncruised patiently.\r\n\r\n"You are heading due west, on Street 751 West, at a speed of three and\r\neight tenths miles per hour."\r\n\r\nHe saw the mechanoid with three wheels again, clocking him helpfully.\r\n\r\n"Go away," he said.\r\n\r\nHis breath came hard; he was not used to walking such a distance.\r\n\r\n_How long can I last? If I keep going, I\'ll get hungry, and there won\'t\r\nbe any food. They don\'t serve food out here. I can go until I drop from\r\nexhaustion. Then they\'ll take me back ... ask me if I want therapy._\r\n\r\nHe would refuse, then try it again later. He would try it day after day,\r\nprobably, maybe getting a little further each time, and each time the\r\nmechanoids would patiently bring him back. On and on ... until he\r\nrequested therapy....\r\n\r\n"You are now one mile from zone," said his clocker. "The time is\r\neleven-twenty-eight p.m."\r\n\r\nThe lights burned on into the distance. His legs were beginning to ache,\r\nbut still the urge to cross the city was intense.\r\n\r\n_Maybe I\'ll go till I come to the ocean_, he thought, sucking his\r\nbreath. He had seen pictures of the ocean, that featureless blue with\r\nits concrete wall stretching away for thousands of miles.\r\n\r\nA mechanoid stood on a corner, pointing back. So that was the next\r\ntrick! Helpful, hinting.... He saw another, showing the way home.\r\n\r\nHe grew angry. _It\'ll be a battle of nerves. They\'ll get nicer and nicer\r\nto me, until I can\'t stand it any more._\r\n\r\nHe concentrated on the lights, watching them pass one by one. That\r\nhelped.\r\n\r\n"Please note your return route."\r\n\r\nHe wondered if they had missed him at the party.\r\n\r\n"There is an autocar at your service."\r\n\r\nThey would be preparing to eat the midnight meal, now, he remembered.\r\nThe foodmakers would emerge from the kitchens and steal the show in\r\ntheir performance of taste appeal, warm odors, rare dishes....\r\n\r\n"You are heading due west, on Street 751 West, at a speed of three and\r\nsix tenths miles per hour."\r\n\r\nIt seemed cold. The mechanoids did not have thermostat stations, for\r\nthey did not need them. He shivered slightly.\r\n\r\n"You are now two miles from zone. The time is eleven-forty-five p.m."\r\n\r\n_The lights. Watch the lights._\r\n\r\n"Please submit any request for information here."\r\n\r\nHe was panting, and his legs felt weak.\r\n\r\n"There is an autocar...."\r\n\r\nIt was useless. Shutting his eyes tight, he stopped.\r\n\r\n"All right. Let\'s go."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Good evening," said Mr. Third.\r\n\r\nSethos seated himself in a contour chair in the center of the softly\r\nlighted office. From behind a curving desk, the brain of a slender metal\r\ncylinder observed the young man before it, checked by radio with five\r\nMr. Tenths in the space of three and one fifth seconds as to the\r\nincident\'s details. Then Mr. Third folded his plastic arms and studied\r\nthe short brown hair and dark eyes, the lean face and straight nose.\r\nHuman features always fascinated him.\r\n\r\n"I\'m the human coordinator, Sethos. You know why you\'re here, don\'t\r\nyou?"\r\n\r\nSethos nodded.\r\n\r\n"Everyone learns that sometime," Mr. Third remarked. "In a certain\r\nnumber of births there is a percentage who are of higher intelligence.\r\nThese are the restless ones whom we cannot discourage developmentally as\r\neasily as the others. They usually have to request therapy to adjust. So\r\nyour case is not new."\r\n\r\nSethos lit a cigarette. He knew the story, but coming from a third level\r\nprime mechanoid it was all the more impressive.\r\n\r\n"All right, I\'m inquisitive. Why must we have therapy? Why do we have to\r\nstay in our zone?"\r\n\r\nMr. Third paused. He recognized challenge in the young man before him,\r\nand tried to estimate his will power.\r\n\r\n"Did you know that there was on the earth, long ago, lower forms of life\r\ncalled animals? And that man once specified these and contained them in\r\ncages, from which they were denied exit?"\r\n\r\n"I have read of their place in our biological evolution, but of course\r\nthey are before the time of records."\r\n\r\n"Well, we know very little about this practice or its use, but it\'s\r\nsimilar to what we have here, I believe. We mechanoids are not concerned\r\nwith history, having only one structural law which was built into us by\r\nyour ancestors, and it cannot be superseded. We must preserve man in the\r\nstate he existed when we were created. We cannot impede his\r\nactivities--unless they peril his stability, which we maintain\r\nprecisely, as you know. It is impossible, you see, for us to allow man\r\nto change or expand. We have fulfilled that obligation, and continue to\r\nfulfill it. There are no alternatives whatever."\r\n\r\n"I can\'t see what they had in mind when they made you that way. It\r\nsounds insane."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t ask why--that is no longer important. We cannot question what is\r\nfundamental to all our operations, the factor present in every formula\r\nwe must work. Our mechanoid civilization is gigantic, by your standards,\r\nbut it is flawless. Once set in motion, such a system is impenetrable.\r\nAll individuals are their allotted part of the entirety, no more, no\r\nless. It is beautiful concept, you\'ll agree?"\r\n\r\n"You must get terribly bored," Sethos said humorlessly.\r\n\r\n"That word has no meaning for us. Now--do you request therapy?"\r\n\r\nSethos was startled. He had expected the question, and knew there was\r\nlittle point in refusing. Yet he hesitated. The desire to learn was\r\nstrong.\r\n\r\nBefore he could reply, a door opened and another mechanoid rolled in.\r\n\r\n"You didn\'t whistle, Mr. First," said Mr. Third to the newcomer.\r\n"Something on your mind?"\r\n\r\nSethos noted that they spoke aloud for his benefit. He inhaled\r\nreflectively of his cigarette.\r\n\r\n"A mutual friend of ours is here," said the first level prime.\r\n\r\n"The one we\'ve been expecting?" asked Mr. Third.\r\n\r\n"That\'s right. I see you have a young fellow here--out walking?"\r\n\r\nSethos nodded, wondering what visitor they could have. Perhaps a\r\nmechanoid from another continent--but still such a mechanoid would be in\r\nperpetual contact anyway.\r\n\r\n"Good--come along. It\'ll save the gentleman some time. He\'s looking for\r\nthis sort of thing."\r\n\r\n"Save him some time! He\'s in a hurry?" interrupted Sethos.\r\n\r\n"For this man, time is very important," said Mr. First gravely.\r\n\r\n"Where is he now?" asked Third.\r\n\r\n"In my office, studying the vocabulary. Shall we go over?"\r\n\r\nMore curious than ever, Sethos followed the mechanoids down the corridor\r\nto a slide. Holding the rail, he felt the car surge through its shaft at\r\na tremendous speed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey emerged into the first level office. Two other first level\r\nmechanoids sat reading formulated material, while near the center stood\r\na tall man, his eyes on a page of printed matter in his hands. He had no\r\nhair, and wore only a simple gray cloak over a white, loose-fitting\r\none-piece suit. Sethos regarded his graceful appearance and\r\nsophisticated demeanor.\r\n\r\n"Hello," he said, looking up. "I am Hol."\r\n\r\nSethos nodded cautiously. "My name is Sethos."\r\n\r\nFor a moment, Hol looked at the two Mr. Firsts reading, then at the one\r\nstanding. There seemed to be some sort of communication between them.\r\nThen he spoke again.\r\n\r\n"Are you discontented with your culture?"\r\n\r\n"Of course. I don\'t believe man\'s curiosity should be restricted."\r\n\r\n"I see. What do you propose in this case?"\r\n\r\nSethos was perplexed. He had not dreamed of a possible solution. But\r\nperhaps there was one!\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know. If mechanoid control could be removed, I think humans\r\nwould expand over all the planet. Then they could progress by\r\nthemselves."\r\n\r\n"Do you think they can?"\r\n\r\n"What do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"Do you think humans can progress further--without mechanoids?"\r\n\r\n_Further_--so that was it. The creation of mechanoids must represent the\r\nheight of human development. Which meant they were necessary to going\r\non, reaching the stars....\r\n\r\n"You mean, if humans could work _with_ mechanoids, we could even travel\r\nto other worlds and spread throughout the universe?"\r\n\r\n"He\'s getting close to the \'matter masters matter\' principle," mused Mr.\r\nThird. "It\'s growth through extension, Sethos, a universal. Not just\r\n\'human\'--man isn\'t alone in the universe."\r\n\r\nSethos did not understand. But another thought struck him.\r\n\r\n"Just a moment, Hol. I\'ve never seen you before. Where are you from?"\r\n\r\n"From Antares System. I am an ethnographer, making a survey of the\r\nplanets of man\'s early history."\r\n\r\nSethos was stunned.\r\n\r\n"You--you are from out in _space_? From the _stars_?"\r\n\r\n"That is correct. Man lives everywhere in the universe. But as Mr. Third\r\nsaid, that may be misleading."\r\n\r\nSethos disregarded the comment. It didn\'t matter if he were alone or\r\nnot, at least he was _there_--man in the universe!\r\n\r\n"I have completed a section of my work here. It is necessary to speak\r\nwith the first level alone, if possible," said Hol.\r\n\r\n"Of course," said Mr. Third. "Sethos, there is a vehicle in the hall.\r\nWill you return home until you wish to contact us about therapy? You\r\nhave clearance to come in directly when you decide."\r\n\r\n"Yes--yes, certainly."\r\n\r\nIn his shock he was barely conscious of an autocar hurtling through the\r\ndark streets, the familiar trees of West Park looming above him. Then,\r\nonce more he saw the lights at Matya\'s, heard the noise and laughter.\r\n\r\nStepping from the autocar, Sethos felt the night breeze on his face. He\r\nlooked upward at the sky, saw the stars like fierce eyes that had been\r\nwatching all along. The revelation was too much to take, he thought.\r\nSuddenly Earth itself, so vastly greater than the small reservation of\r\nmen, and short hours ago a veritable infinity, seemed tiny and\r\ninsignificant.\r\n\r\n"Why, Sethos! Where have you been?"\r\n\r\nIt was Paton\'s voice. The old man stood alone on the path.\r\n\r\n"Paton, you couldn\'t guess what has happened. It\'s incredible!"\r\n\r\n"Come up and get a drink, boy. You look exhausted. I was alarmed when I\r\nfound you\'d left."\r\n\r\nSethos took his arm and faced him squarely.\r\n\r\n"Paton--I left the zone, and was taken to Mr. First\'s office. And do you\r\nknow who I met? I met a man from the stars! Think of it! A man from\r\nother worlds, Paton. Do you realize that human beings have _already_\r\ntraveled those fantastic distances, long ago? They must have forgotten\r\nabout us on Earth!"\r\n\r\n"Why, that is amazing. It just goes to show you, there\'s nothing new\r\nunder the sun. Come along, and get that drink. I found some _exquisite_\r\nwine."\r\n\r\nSethos stopped. His hand slipped from Paton\'s arm.\r\n\r\n"Paton.... Did you hear what I said? Didn\'t it penetrate? I said man has\r\n_reached_ the stars! We already own the universe...."\r\n\r\n"Of course. But I must say I don\'t know what we want with it all. Won\'t\r\nyou join us now? Say, Ela has been looking for you."\r\n\r\n"Ela? Yes, Ela. I want to see Ela...."\r\n\r\nShe came down the walk, and took him by the hands.\r\n\r\n"_There_ you are, you elusive boy! I want to go home now. I simply have\r\nto adjust my crystals or they\'ll overflow the bedroom. Oh, Matya! Thank\r\nyou for a splendid time. I\'ll be having you over next week, don\'t\r\nforget."\r\n\r\nThen they were down from the hill and in the park, and the party flowed\r\non behind them, forgetting.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey were home again, and Ela hurried off to add nutrients to the huge\r\ncrystal sculpture that was growing in the bedroom. It glowed and\r\nvibrated in every color of the spectrum, and strange textures developed\r\nat those edges where Ela hovered with a glass dropper and her chemicals,\r\ntouching, wiping, smoothing....\r\n\r\n"Oh, it nearly got away from me over here. I _must_ get these reds to\r\nbalance, or the whole thing will never refract properly at all. Did you\r\nknow, Seth--they want to erect it in Central Plaza when I\'m finished!\r\nIsn\'t that wonderful?" Her pleased face sparkled as she worked.\r\n\r\nSethos sat on the bed, folding his hands in his lap. Still stunned by\r\nPaton\'s reaction, he gazed absently at the floor.\r\n\r\n"Ela, I met a man tonight. He is a very important man."\r\n\r\n"Yes, there were _so_ many dolls there. I only wish I had met Andian\r\nagain. He\'d be so jealous if he knew I was acclaimed for exhibition in\r\nthe Plaza."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t mean at the party."\r\n\r\nEla turned. "Really, dear? Where was he?"\r\n\r\n"In the office of Mr. First. He wanted to talk to me."\r\n\r\n"You went outside zone? Whatever for?"\r\n\r\nSethos rose and took her shoulders firmly in his hands.\r\n\r\n"This man is from another planet, Ela. He told me that people live all\r\nover the universe!"\r\n\r\n"You don\'t say!"\r\n\r\n"They left the earth a long time ago. They\'ve traveled between the stars\r\nfor centuries and centuries!"\r\n\r\n"That\'s wonderful, dear. Help me with this pot of dye, will you, Seth?"\r\n\r\nSethos drew back, unbelieving.\r\n\r\n"Ela.... The stars are trillions of miles apart. Men have learned to fly\r\nbetween them somehow!"\r\n\r\n"It\'s breathtaking. The dye?"\r\n\r\n"Quintillions, some of them! Think of it, Ela!" Sethos was shaking with\r\nagitation.\r\n\r\n"Dearest," said Ela, moving away from him, "do you think we might move\r\ncloser to Center after my Plaza crystal is finished? I\'d like to be able\r\nto look out and see it every morning in the sun...."\r\n\r\nShe wasn\'t listening! _She didn\'t care!_\r\n\r\n"Ela. Ela, love--listen to me! What\'s wrong with you? Can\'t you _see_?"\r\nHis voice shrank to a whisper.\r\n\r\nShe smiled tolerantly. "Of course, dear."\r\n\r\n"I\'m telling you something no one has dreamed of before and you fuss\r\nabout your crystals! Don\'t you ever get sick of this little cage? Don\'t\r\nyou ever feel like getting out and running away?"\r\n\r\n"Cage?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m telling you the earth can be ours! People can live like mechanoids\r\nif they\'ll only wake up and stop their childish play!"\r\n\r\n"But why, dear?"\r\n\r\n"_Why?_ We were _meant_ to, that\'s why. Because we\'ve already _done_ it,\r\nor someone has. But _we\'re_ still here, left behind. We\'ve got to catch\r\nup!"\r\n\r\n"How silly." She returned to her chemicals.\r\n\r\nSethos felt a burning rage seize him. This woman he had loved--she was\r\nonly a shell, a stick of wood, with no ideas of her own--no curiosity.\r\nNothing! And she didn\'t have the faintest notion what he was talking\r\nabout. She didn\'t _care_!\r\n\r\nFurious, he grasped a heavy bronze ash tray and hurled it, hard as he\r\ncould, into the mass of shining crystal that filled the room. With an\r\nexplosive rainbow of color and a reverberating crash, it collapsed under\r\nthe heavy blow into a million tiny fragments.\r\n\r\nHe stood, glaring at the scattered shards, waiting for Ela to leap at\r\nhim, screaming and clawing him for the ruin he had made of her\r\nmasterpiece.\r\n\r\nBut she only smiled weakly, and shrugged.\r\n\r\n"Dear, that was very irrational. I think you had better request therapy\r\none of these days. Now I shall have to start all over again. But don\'t\r\nfret, sweet. I had a much better idea anyway. I can get sensational\r\nresults using fluorides."\r\n\r\nShe wouldn\'t fight him--she couldn\'t think of such an act, raised in a\r\nworld where coercion and violence did not exist. She didn\'t care about\r\n_anything_!\r\n\r\nCalm now, he knew what to do. Striding swiftly from the house, he went\r\nstraight to the vehicle space. He got into an autocar and slammed the\r\ndoor.\r\n\r\n"Direction, please."\r\n\r\n"Contact Dispatching. Ask for permission to go directly to first level\r\nprimary. Tell them it\'s Sethos."\r\n\r\nPause. "Permission granted."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Come in, Sethos. What can I do for you?"\r\n\r\nSethos looked around the room anxiously.\r\n\r\n"I want to make a request, Mr. First, if it isn\'t too late."\r\n\r\n"Too late?"\r\n\r\n"I would like to see Hol before he leaves. Is he still here?"\r\n\r\n"Perhaps I can arrange it. His time is budgeted, you understand."\r\n\r\n"I _must_ see him."\r\n\r\nMr. First was silent for a moment, and Sethos realized he was contacting\r\nsomeone. Then, he announced, "Yes, he\'s willing to see you. Go through\r\nthis door. His compartment is the second down the corridor."\r\n\r\nSethos thanked him and hurried out. Finding the door, he hesitated an\r\ninstant, then went in.\r\n\r\n"Good morning," said Hol.\r\n\r\nThere was a second man standing beside him, dressed in the same manner\r\nand of the same stature as Hol.\r\n\r\n"I had to see you," Sethos began hastily, not expecting to encounter two\r\nmen.\r\n\r\n"I see. This is Bek, a field observer. He was at your party last night."\r\n\r\nSethos remembered the stranger he had taken for a spying apprentice on\r\nthe hillside. He felt embarrassed, but brushed it aside.\r\n\r\n"I ... want you to take me with you."\r\n\r\nHol looked at his companion.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t fit here," Sethos went on. "Mr. Third himself said I\'m more\r\nintelligent than the others--I\'m the only one who knows what your visit\r\nmeans. I want to go where people are interested in learning and\r\nprogress. If I stay here I\'ll have to fool around with a hobby the rest\r\nof my life. There\'s no work, no expansion. You can see why I have to\r\nleave, can\'t you? I\'m the _curious_ type."\r\n\r\n"You don\'t know what you\'re asking."\r\n\r\n"Why? Can\'t you take me with you? What harm would it do?"\r\n\r\n"Well, there are rules."\r\n\r\n"But--I\'m not just anybody. I\'m an exception to the rule. I qualify as a\r\ngenius--you mean there isn\'t a place for me _somewhere_ in the universe?\r\nSurely you can use a smart man!"\r\n\r\n"You are a genius, that\'s true," said Bek, in a deep, serious voice. "As\r\nlong as you remain here. Hundreds of centuries ago, your ancestors\r\ndiscovered principles that are not even expressible in your language,\r\nand learned to apply them to matter. Soon they knew no boundaries. The\r\nearth was not forgotten, but it was no longer important. It still is\r\nonly a statistic. And we are here to examine it briefly. We have many\r\nothers to visit.\r\n\r\n"You see, Sethos, man changed out in space. He is a long way from your\r\nancestors who started all this. But before those ancient men left, they\r\nestablished Earth as a control planet, to maintain forever a specimen of\r\nthe original stock. It may have been done out of his egocentric ideas at\r\nthe time, but it proved wise, for such a specimen is valuable in our\r\nresearch."\r\n\r\n"Sethos," said Hol, seeing the bewilderment on the young man\'s face,\r\n"the mechanoids who attend your little community are more than one\r\nhundred thousand years old. That is how long your little culture has\r\nbeen faithfully preserved, just as it was then. You would not be capable\r\nof living elsewhere in the universe now. You could survive, perhaps,\r\nbright as you are, for a century or so, and then die, unhappy,\r\nmaladjusted, never finding another of your own level. You are, after\r\nall, a savage."\r\n\r\nSethos was dazed.\r\n\r\nHe--an atavism, a prehistoric man! No wonder his people behaved as they\r\ndid--they were merely a docile herd of caged animals, kept complacent\r\nand well-fed by the keepers outside. An extinct beast, left to be tended\r\nuntil the earth reached the end of its course as a flaming speck in the\r\ninfinite cavern of space!\r\n\r\n"You--you _must_ take me! I couldn\'t stand it now. How can I go back,\r\nknowing we\'re just a miserable experiment? Please--I\'ll go crazy!"\r\n\r\n"Even now you exhibit one of your primitive traits--pride of being a\r\nman. But you will adjust to life. It is as it should be."\r\n\r\n"But--"\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry. There\'s nothing we can do."\r\n\r\n"No, wait--I...."\r\n\r\nThe two men were gone.\r\n\r\nSethos stared. He was alone in the room. A constriction grew in his\r\nthroat, and he felt weak. Indeed, man had changed.\r\n\r\n"Sethos?"\r\n\r\nMr. First stood in the door.\r\n\r\n"Yes...."\r\n\r\nNow the pattern was clear. Sethos--the curious man, the genius--was\r\ndoomed. He had lost a battle in which he never had a chance. Still, he\r\nhad fought.\r\n\r\nBut walking down the corridor with the mechanoid, he knew that no one\r\nlost completely. He knew that Sethos, the human, the adjusted hobbyist,\r\nwould soon look back on this night as though it were an ordinary phase\r\nof life.\r\n\r\nThen, on the table, with the gently humming mechanism lowered to his\r\nhead, the knot in his throat softened.\r\n\r\n"All yours," said Mr. First to Mr. Third.\r\n\r\n"A remarkable case," said Mr. Third. "Sometimes I wish we kept a record\r\nof his kind. It might be very interesting."\r\n\r\n"Someday, perhaps. 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'The Cosmic Deflector'

'Coblentz, Stanton A. (Stanton Arthur)'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cosmic Deflector\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Cosmic Deflector\r\n\r\nAuthor: Stanton A. Coblentz\r\n\r\nRelease date: June 19, 2010 [eBook #32899]\r\n Most recently updated: January 6, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSMIC DEFLECTOR ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE COSMIC DEFLECTOR\r\n\r\n By STANTON A. COBLENTZ\r\n\r\n[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories January\r\n1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\r\ncopyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n[Sidenote: It\'s one thing to force the Earth out of its orbit, and\r\nanother to force it back in again!]\r\n\r\n\r\nHis face red with haste, and his blue eyes glittering, Dan Holcomb burst\r\ninto the laboratory.\r\n\r\n"Just look at this, Lucile!" he cried, flinging his hat halfway across\r\nthe room, and almost dancing in his joy. "Lord! Look at this, will you!"\r\n\r\nLucile Travers glanced up from her Bunsen burner, and stared in surprise\r\nat Dan\'s six-foot bulk. She was used to her lover\'s flaming enthusiasms;\r\nbut never had she seen him so beside himself. How boyish he seemed, with\r\nhis lean, keen, studious face, and eyes that were all a blaze of\r\nyouthful delight!\r\n\r\n"There! Take a peep at that, old girl!" he rushed on, as he snapped out\r\nhis wallet and displayed a handsomely embossed letter.\r\n\r\nHer eyes popped half out of her head as she glanced at the sheet.\r\n"Twenty-five--twenty-five thousand dollars, Dan!" she gasped. "Why,\r\nit--it can\'t be real!"\r\n\r\n"But it _is_ real! Boy! this isn\'t any pipe dream, believe me! A neat\r\ntwenty-five thousand--that\'s what I\'m offered for my Deflector!"\r\n\r\nWhile she stared at him dazedly, he did an impromptu hop, skip and jump.\r\nShe did not need to be told about the Cosmic Deflector--had she not been\r\nat Dan\'s side during these many months when he had worked at it? Had she\r\nnot shared his enthusiasm at the Gravitational Ray Theory?--the idea\r\nthat gravity was due to an invisible ray shot out by the electrons and\r\nhence was akin to electricity in its origin? Had she not believed, with\r\nhim, that this ray formed a current, which, like electricity, could be\r\nbent, or twisted from its course? Had she not glowed at the discovery of\r\nthe telurium compound--telurox, they called it--which, on burning, would\r\nsend out beams that diverted the rays of gravity? And had they not,\r\nporing together over his plans, decided that it would be possible to\r\nalter the movements of the very planets?\r\n\r\nAll this was in the girl\'s mind as her eyes raced along the lines of\r\nthat incredible letter. It was from Hogarth, Wiley and Malvine, a well\r\nknown firm of construction engineers. And there was no doubt that it\r\nactually did offer $25,000!--$25,000 for all rights in the Deflector,\r\nalong with Dan\'s services for a year!\r\n\r\n"Who\'d have thought it?" enthused the inventor. "Why, Bert Wilcox--you\r\nknow, my old college chum--introduced me to Wiley only last Tuesday, and\r\ntold about the Deflector. When Wiley asked me to lay the plans before\r\nhim, I didn\'t imagine--"\r\n\r\nHe rambled on for a minute, then broke short. "But good heavens, Lucy,\r\nlet\'s forget all that! It\'s not the Deflector I want to think about!\r\nIt\'s you! You, Lucy! Don\'t you see? Our waiting--it\'s over now!"\r\n\r\nShe did indeed see. For three years they had been engaged, almost since\r\nthe day when they had met as laboratory assistants here at Columbia\r\nChemicals. But Dan, saddled with the care of his aged parents, had seen\r\nno way out of a financial morass that might mean further years of\r\nwaiting.\r\n\r\nDown from her vivid brown eyes and over her lovely face the tears were\r\nstreaming as his strong arms gathered about her and she pressed close to\r\nhim in confidence and love.\r\n\r\nYet why was it that, even in this moment of their triumph, a gnawing\r\nsuspicion crept over her, chilling her joy with a dull clutching\r\nuneasiness?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was a look of steel-and-granite on Dan\'s ordinarily cheerful face\r\nas he came striding home. He had only a wan smile for his bride of three\r\nmonths as she greeted him at the door of their little apartment.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t mind me, Lucy, if I act like a man with his last penny gone," he\r\nexplained, after a moment. "It\'s those damned fellows Hogarth, Wiley and\r\nMalvine. Well, you know I\'ve suspected they weren\'t all above board."\r\n\r\n"What\'s the trouble now?"\r\n\r\nHe came close to her, and she noticed how red his face was, and how his\r\narms trembled.\r\n\r\n"They\'re worse than Hitler, that\'s what the trouble is! Want to make me\r\ntheir stooge, the crawling worms!"\r\n\r\nHe took a turn or two about the room, then went on, more composedly.\r\n\r\n"Remember how I agreed to use the Deflector to pull the earth a few\r\nthousand miles off its course--only a few thousand, for experimental\r\npurposes! Well, now it\'s more than that distance off, and getting\r\nfurther every minute. This afternoon I put it up to them that we\'d\r\nbetter send things into reverse. What do you think they did? Laughed at\r\nme!"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t call it exactly a laughing matter."\r\n\r\n"Believe me, it\'s not! That fellow Wiley came up, with his horse-like\r\nface and black eyes that seemed to drill right into me. \'Listen here,\r\nold boy,\' he said. \'I\'ll let you into a secret. We haven\'t any idea of\r\nputting the earth back on its orbit--not just yet! We\'ll let the\r\ndistance widen a few million miles. We\'re going to raise hell on this\r\nplanet--simply hell!\'"\r\n\r\n"My glory, is he crazy?"\r\n\r\n"Not by a long shot! That\'s the terrible part of it. They outlined their\r\nscheme to me--enough, anyhow, to show it\'s the most diabolical plot ever\r\nhatched. Thought I would work with them. \'Never fear, you\'ll get your\r\nshare of the swag, old fellow!\' Wiley promised. What does he take me\r\nfor--a louse?"\r\n\r\nThe vivid blue flames of his anger seemed to leap straight out of Dan\'s\r\neyes.\r\n\r\n"Well, what is their plot?"\r\n\r\n"To steal the planet--make themselves a World Triumvirate, the dirty\r\ncutthroats! Their scheme is clever too, clever as the devil!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBy degrees he explained the conspiracy, so far as he knew it. Wiley and\r\nhis colleagues intended to deflect five or ten per cent of the sun\'s\r\ngravity, so sending the earth several million miles farther into space.\r\nThis would not be fatal, but would cause great climatic inconveniences,\r\nand would so alarm the whole world that it would pay any price to get\r\nback on its orbit. By that time the agents of the Triumvirate would be\r\nplanted in every country--Quislings of the sort that can always be\r\nbribed by the prospect of a little power, a little notoriety. When the\r\npresent national leaders had been frightened out of their wits, they\r\nwould be willing, even eager to turn over the reins to the Triumvirate\r\n"for the duration of the emergency," in the belief that Hogarth and his\r\nfellows would save the earth. Meanwhile the Triumvirs would establish a\r\nsecret police. They would demand control of the armies, navies and air\r\nfleets of the earth. And they would win reputations as wizards who had\r\nrescued the globe--and so would gain popular support everywhere. By the\r\ntime the planet was back in its proper orbit they would have it,\r\nliterally, in the palms of their hands.\r\n\r\n"Even if they didn\'t tell me all the details," Dan finished, "I could\r\nguess what they left unsaid. Fact is, they\'re nothing but a gang of\r\nhijackers, saying \'Your money or your life!\' to the whole world. The\r\nworst of it is, they\'ll have us all in such an infernal hole that it\'ll\r\nbe too late unless we act darned soon!"\r\n\r\n"What surprises me," meditated Lucile, "is that they should take you\r\ninto their confidence."\r\n\r\n"Probably they didn\'t doubt my loyalty, after the way I\'ve worked with\r\nthem all these months. Besides, that fellow Hogarth made a remark I\r\ndidn\'t like. Turning that beefy red face of his toward me, with a wicked\r\ntwinkle in his racoon-like eyes, he said, \'The man who works with us,\r\nHolcomb, will have power and glory. But the man who works against us\r\nwill be--underground!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was a look of terror on Lucile\'s face as Dan went on, "Naturally,\r\nI made out to be on their side. Hope to heaven they weren\'t able to see\r\nthrough me!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe smell of burning, from the direction of the kitchen, offered Lucile\r\ntemporary diversion. And when she had returned from her scorched dinner\r\npots, Dan had come to his decision.\r\n\r\n"Only one thing to do, Lucy! I\'ll go to the police at once. If they act\r\nin time--well, maybe they\'ll still save the world."\r\n\r\nAlready he had seized his hat, and was halfway to the door.\r\n\r\n"For mercy\'s sake, be careful!" she pleaded, distracted.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you worry, I\'ll do my best. Wait here for me, Lucy. I\'ll be back\r\nin half an hour."\r\n\r\nDespite her appeals, he was already halfway into the outer hall. She was\r\nnever to forget the brave, tragical look of his grimly set face. She\r\nknew that she could not hold him back; that she had no right to hold him\r\nback. Yet something seemed to rise up in her throat and choke her as the\r\ndoor slammed and she knew that he was gone.\r\n\r\nA deep depression had settled over her when the specified half hour had\r\npassed and he had not returned. When the half hour had lengthened into\r\nan hour, uneasiness gave place to alarm. When an hour had been extended\r\nto two, alarm rose to terror. At last, after two hours, her dread got\r\nthe better of her and she telephoned the police.\r\n\r\nNo! there had been no accident to a Daniel Holcomb! No! he had not come\r\nto the station that evening! No, sorry, but they could not send out\r\ndetectives to investigate! "Don\'t think there\'s any need of that,\r\nMa\'am," the sergeant finished. "Chances are he met some old pal and went\r\noff for a drink, and just forgot the time."\r\n\r\nBut Lucile, as she put down the receiver, knew that Dan had not "gone\r\noff for a drink." Realizing that he had not even reached the station,\r\nshe understood that her gravest misgivings had been justified. And then\r\nit was that, for the first time, she broke down and wept.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nProbably no one who lived through the summer of 1977 will forget the\r\nconsternation, the terror that convulsed the planet. It was in late May\r\nwhen astronomers reported unforeseen perturbations in the earth\'s orbit;\r\nand by early June it had been officially confirmed that we were off our\r\nproper path in space. At first the variation was slight--a mere few\r\nthousand miles. But with the passage of weeks, our distance from the sun\r\nwidened until the earth was off its course by a million, two million,\r\nfive million miles!\r\n\r\nNo hypothesis put forth by science could explain the occurrence. It was\r\nsuggested that some dead, dark sun, from the depths of space, had caught\r\nour world in its gravitational pull. But in that case, would it not also\r\nhave affected Mars, Jupiter, and the other planets? Yet these, except\r\nfor minute variations ascribable to the earth\'s altered position, were\r\nunaffected!\r\n\r\nBut few persons, those desperate days, cared much about the theory\r\nbehind the event. What concerned them was the peril to their own\r\nexistence. Already the disturbances were acute. By mid-July, New York\r\nand London shivered in snow flurries; the frost had ruined agriculture\r\nin half the north temperate regions; while in the Argentine and South\r\nAfrica, which were now experiencing their winter, hundreds of thousands\r\nwere freezing to death. Meanwhile blizzards and tornadoes swept the\r\nglobe; tidal waves, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions testified to the\r\nupset of the age-old equilibrium; while thunder storms of unexampled\r\nseverity, floods, and meteoric displays of a brilliance never known\r\nbefore, added to the protests of the elements and the terror of the\r\npeople.\r\n\r\nLong before the summer was over, men began to resign themselves to the\r\nidea that life on earth was near its end. For, not only were we\r\nreceiving less solar radiation than formerly, but the years and\r\ntherefore the seasons were being lengthened; hence the winters would be\r\nunendurably severe. As we drifted ever farther into space, an unlifting\r\nfrost would settle over every portion of the globe, including the\r\ntropics; and life, frozen and starved, would disappear.\r\n\r\nIt was on July 15 that the world was electrified by an announcement\r\nappearing in newspapers throughout the world. A celebrated firm of\r\nconstruction engineers, Hogarth, Wiley and Malvine, had not only\r\ndiscovered the root of the trouble but had contrived a way to cure it.\r\nHowever, they would need the cooperation of every man, woman and child\r\non earth; they must be given control of all the world\'s resources, of\r\nall mines, power-plants, factories, and systems of transportation, in\r\norder to throw everything that mankind possessed into the battle.\r\n\r\nAt any other time, such a proposal would have been laughed to scorn. But\r\nnow, when the world\'s nerves were stretched taut with terror, men were\r\neager to clutch at any straw. A committee of alleged experts (who, it\r\nsubsequently turned out, were in the pay of Hogarth and Company)\r\nendorsed the claims of the self-styled saviors of the world; legislative\r\ngroups, likewise in their pay, voted them unlimited power; dictators and\r\npresidents, in despair, gave them the right of way over great nations.\r\nBut what did this matter? What did anything matter, except that Earth be\r\nsaved from destruction?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn a concrete-walled, electrically lighted basement chamber, originally\r\nintended as a storeroom, a prisoner stalked restlessly. Up and down, up\r\nand down, up and down the ten-by-twelve windowless space he wandered.\r\nHis eyes were bloodshot; his fingers twitched uneasily; his rumpled\r\nclothes bore the signs of a recent struggle. At one side of the room, on\r\na rude work-bench, some food and water stood untouched. From outside the\r\nclosed doors, he could hear the obscene jests exchanged by two armed\r\nguards.\r\n\r\nHis mind reeled as he recalled the events of the past few hours; how\r\nthree men, amid the fogs of twilight, had surrounded him as he emerged\r\nfrom the apartment house to go for the police; how one of them had\r\nclapped a gag over his mouth, and the other two had forced him into a\r\nwaiting sedan.... So swiftly had it all happened that he could hardly\r\npiece together the successive steps of the crime in logical order.\r\n\r\nYet that the deed had been ordered by his former employers was manifest.\r\nHis horror at their plans had been evident, much as he had tried to\r\nconceal it! Their secret police were already functioning! Undoubtedly\r\none of them, eavesdropping at the door of his apartment, had overheard\r\nhis remarks to his wife, which he had made little effort to subdue. And\r\nnow that he was in the enemy\'s power, he would have no chance to thwart\r\nor reveal their schemes!\r\n\r\nContemplatively he gazed about his jail. Bare walls! a bare floor! Not a\r\ntool by which he might attempt to escape! The prisoner felt in his\r\npockets--even his knife had been taken from him. He thought of his\r\nwife--and knew that she would be growing frantic. Yet, though he\r\nrealized that the odds against him were thousands to one, he would not\r\nlet himself despair. For a long while he leaned meditatively against a\r\nwall, his brows wrinkled, his glance withdrawn, as he pondered, pondered\r\nover ways and means to surmount his barriers. For upon his escape, he\r\nknew, the world\'s freedom depended.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was with the air of a beaten dog that, one afternoon in early August,\r\nHogarth came slouching into his mahogany-paneled headquarters in the\r\ntwenty-two-story office building he had recently appropriated.\r\n\r\nAs July turned into August, the earth\'s movements had become more\r\nerratic than ever. Even to the naked eye, the sun\'s disk had grown\r\nappreciably smaller. The Antarctic cold had begun to lay a white blanket\r\nover jungles beneath the Equator; while already the trees of the eastern\r\nUnited States had taken on the hues of October. No one who lived through\r\nthose disconsolate days will forget the tragic aspect of our cities:\r\nthoroughfares almost deserted, and only an occasional business house\r\nstill open; a handful of people passing, with wan features and drooping\r\nheads; and only one question on any one\'s lips, "When, when will it\r\nend?"\r\n\r\nWith the haste of panic, Hogarth, Wiley and Malvine had been granted\r\neverything they asked. They had been placed in control of all natural\r\nresources, all factories and railways, all armies and navies. They had\r\nbeen given _carte blanche_ with the earth. All other rulers took orders\r\nfrom them. They were, as they had aimed to be, universal dictators. This\r\ntremendous power had been granted them, so that they might save us all,\r\nas they had promised. Then why did they not save us? men asked,\r\nchattering with cold and terror.\r\n\r\nThey might have had their answer had they seen Hogarth sagging into his\r\noffice on that August afternoon. Rubbing his fleshy red face with an\r\nequally fleshy red hand, he dropped into a seat, and grumbled, "Guess\r\nit\'s no use, boys! Simply don\'t seem able to turn the trick!"\r\n\r\nWiley had leaped to his feet. His horse-like teeth were unbared beneath\r\ncurling lips. "God! Mean to say she won\'t work?"\r\n\r\n"No, blast it, she won\'t," concurred Malvine, who had come in just\r\nbehind Hogarth. "Haven\'t the two of us been slaving like teamsters,\r\nalong with McBride and a whole army of engineers? That cursed Deflector\r\nhas gone haywire! Why, I\'ll swear we diverted gravity enough to pull the\r\nearth halfway over to Venus. And what are the results? Nil. Precisely\r\nnil!"\r\n\r\nWiley stood regarding his fellow plotters in silence. An unpleasant\r\nsmirk formed itself upon his lips.\r\n\r\n"Well, don\'t worry, boys. In the long run, a day or two more or less\r\nwon\'t matter."\r\n\r\n"No, I\'ll be cursed if it will!" growled Hogarth. "Nothing in hell will\r\nmatter if we die along with everybody else!"\r\n\r\nWiley gasped. "What makes you so damned cheerful?"\r\n\r\n"Well, how we going to save ourselves? I\'m putting it to you straight,\r\nold man. What if we are world dictators? We\'re doomed like every beetle\r\nand rat on this crazy planet. The whole rotten globe is going to\r\nfreeze!"\r\n\r\n"Afraid that\'s so," agreed Malvine, with a wry puckering of his long,\r\nfox-like face. "We\'ve tried hard enough, but we\'ve about shot our bolt.\r\nFrankly, there isn\'t any known principle by which we can get the\r\nDeflector working again."\r\n\r\nFor the first time, a pallor had come across Wiley\'s features. He was\r\nthe scheming brains of the firm, but had not kept up on his science, and\r\nalways took his colleagues\' word on technical matters.\r\n\r\nFor a while, he remained silent, his saturnine face grave with thought.\r\n"By thunder," he finally broke out, "I\'m not going to let myself die\r\njust yet--not when I\'ve got the world in my hands! There\'s one man\r\nwho\'ll be able to help out with that damned Deflector."\r\n\r\n"Who\'s your genius?" sneered Malvine.\r\n\r\n"Well, who but this fellow Holcomb?"\r\n\r\n"Holcomb?"\r\n\r\n"Of course. He\'s harmless now--but useless--in his underground\r\nstoreroom. I\'m for taking him out--under proper supervision. He\'ll know\r\nhow to use the Deflector, if any man does!"\r\n\r\nHogarth\'s gloom relaxed a bit. "Good!" he approved. "Can\'t do any harm\r\nto try. We\'ve got to make damned sure, though, he doesn\'t get loose or\r\ncommunicate with his friends. I\'d a thousand times rather shoot him like\r\na yellow dog!"\r\n\r\nWiley chuckled; and the hands of all three conspirators shot out in\r\nagreement.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nDan\'s face was pale after his long confinement. His cheeks were sunken,\r\nand had the smoldering look of deep suffering. But there was scorn in\r\nhis manner as he faced his persecutors.\r\n\r\n"Yes, that\'s the story," Wiley was reiterating. "Guess we\'re not quite\r\non to the ropes. If you\'ll work a little at the Deflector--"\r\n\r\nDan glared at his tormentors, his eyes kindled with a fierce blue\r\nglitter. His chin was outthrust, but his manner was quiet as he replied,\r\nafter a moment\'s hesitation, "Show me to the laboratory!"\r\n\r\nWiley arose, and prepared to lead the way.\r\n\r\n"We\'ll give you one week!" he stipulated. "Exactly one week! By then,\r\nwe\'ll expect you to show results!"\r\n\r\nAfter being escorted blindfolded to a secret laboratory, Dan labored\r\nincessantly. He would pretend to obey the Triumvirs, while actually\r\ndoing all he could to oppose them! But in the beginning, he had to\r\nconfess to himself, his position looked nearly hopeless. Eagerly he\r\nsearched for some possible means of escape--some way of signalling the\r\noutside world. But two armed guards stood watching just beyond the only\r\ndoor.\r\n\r\nHis most pressing thought was to get word to his wife--not only to\r\nrelieve her terrible anxiety, but to plot with her his escape. He had,\r\nnaturally, been denied access to a telephone; yet he would not let this\r\nbalk him. Deftly making use of the electrical gear and headphones of a\r\nhalf dismantled shortwave radio receiver which he had found in the\r\nlaboratory, he set about to tap the wires in a remote corner where, he\r\nnoted, a telephone connection had formerly been. Meanwhile he was\r\ncareful to keep as wide a distance as possible between him and the\r\nguards.\r\n\r\nTo prevent them from hearing his voice when he had tapped the wire, he\r\nset a particularly noisy motor in operation close to the door. Then,\r\ntrembling with eagerness, he spoke through his improvised speaking\r\napparatus. To his delight, he heard an answering, "Number, please!" His\r\ntones were jerky with excitement as he gave his home number. But, a\r\nmoment later, his joy froze within him.\r\n\r\nAcross the wire there came a sickening, "The line has been disconnected,\r\nsir!" And in response to his quavering inquiry, all he could get was,\r\n"No, sir, they mentioned no other number to call."\r\n\r\nHe was just about to give another number--that of a friend who might be\r\nable to supply information about Lucile--when he felt a heavy hand on\r\none shoulder, and looked up into the angry eyes of his guards.\r\n\r\n"None of that, young man!" bawled one jailer, while the other snatched\r\nup the telephone equipment. "I thought you were up to some mischief! Get\r\nback to work!"\r\n\r\nTwo rubber truncheons came down upon Dan\'s defenseless flesh as, with a\r\ngroan, he struggled back to his bench.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs late August shivered toward September, the world\'s state became still\r\nmore terrifying. Whirlwinds rushed more severely than ever through the\r\ndarkening skies; blizzards raged, and a mantle of white covered the\r\nnorthern United States; agriculture and industry had virtually ceased;\r\nand men passed their time in mumbling prayers, in making wild, fruitless\r\nstudies of the heavens, and in the sodden forgetfulness of dissipation.\r\n\r\nDan, however, knew nothing of all this as he labored in his hidden\r\nlaboratory. Working once more at the Deflector, in the desire to save\r\nthe earth from freezing, he had made a discovery--one which, as he\r\ntoiled, had darkened his face with lines of discouragement that\r\ngradually gave place to horror. And in the end he had sagged down,\r\nexhausted, with bloodshot eyes and drooping limbs ... oppressed with a\r\nnightmare realization.\r\n\r\nDuring the weeks of his imprisonment, the earth had moved millions of\r\nmiles farther from the sun. And the strength of telurox, lessening with\r\nthe inverse square of the distance, was insufficient to cover the gap.\r\nIt was beyond his power to make up the difference. Unless a miracle\r\nintervened, the earth was doomed!\r\n\r\nNevertheless, was there not just the remotest hope?--possibly a chance\r\nin a million? If only he could gain control of a larger laboratory, with\r\ncapable assistants, he might try a certain newly conceived experiment.\r\nBut to ask his captors to provide such a laboratory would be to put\r\nhimself and the earth even more hopelessly in their power.\r\n\r\nInstead, his thoughts kept wandering in another direction. If he could\r\nonce get into touch with his wife, she might be able to help him! But\r\nwhere was she now? Somewhere in hiding? Or imprisoned by the Triumvirs?\r\nYet if she were still at liberty, was there not a means by which he\r\nmight still communicate with her? He recalled how, during their years\r\ntogether at Columbia Chemicals, they had worked out a secret code, by\r\nwhich they could tap out love messages on the walls. Could this code not\r\nbe used over the radio? Could he not transmit signals over various\r\nwave-lengths, so that sooner or later--if she still listened to the\r\nradio--she would recognize his message?\r\n\r\nAt any rate, he would try. Hoping to ward off suspicion, he pretended to\r\nwork at a Cosmic Deflector which, telescope-shaped and two feet in\r\nthickness, reached from floor to ceiling. Within this great tube he\r\nconcealed a small radio transmitter which he had hastily contrived, out\r\nof the abundant electrical equipment of the Deflector. Its power, he\r\nknew, would be limited, but it could be heard well enough locally. By\r\nmeans of a device resembling an electric bell, he was able to transmit\r\nsignals, on a dot and dash system. So rapidly did he work that, after a\r\nfew hours, this novel broadcaster was sending out its rat-tat-tat.\r\n\r\nHis next step was to repair the half dismantled radio receiver. This\r\ntask completed, he began to tap out signals, "Lucile! Lucile! Hear me! I\r\nam imprisoned by the Triumvirs! Follow my directions, and we may still\r\nsave the world!"\r\n\r\nTime after time--hundreds of times--he repeated this message. Was he but\r\nplaying a fool\'s game? So he asked himself as the hours stretched out;\r\nas the days dragged past and still no answer came. Was he not wasting\r\nhis efforts while the earth whirled to its doom?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was on the fourth day of the experiment. Pale with anxiety and\r\nfatigue, Dan still tapped out his messages; still listened at the radio.\r\nSuddenly he stood up, with a start. What was that sound he heard? That\r\nanswering tap, tap, tap? Three shorts and a long--three shorts and a\r\nlong! In their code, what did that mean? "Where are you? Tell me, where\r\nare you?" Or had he counted the signals wrongly. In desperate eagerness,\r\nhe stood listening. Now there came two longs and a short; then a short\r\nand two longs--\r\n\r\n"Well, old man, how\'s the work going?"\r\n\r\nDan was so shocked that he leapt back several feet. Not more than a yard\r\naway, leering with a horse-like grin, was the face of Wiley! And just in\r\nthe background, devilishly gaping, were Hogarth and Malvine.\r\n\r\nDan\'s first thought was that the enemy knew what he was about, and had\r\ncome to mock him at the moment of his seeming success.\r\n\r\n"Well, how\'s she going?" Wiley reiterated. "Any progress?"\r\n\r\nWith an effort, Dan snapped out of his stupefied silence. "Oh, she\'s\r\npromising very well," he managed to say.\r\n\r\nThrough the radio, with maddening insistency, came the rat-tat-tat of a\r\nmessage. It was impossible, under the circumstances, to record or\r\ntranslate it! The thought flashed over Dan that he had been tricked;\r\nthat the message came from the Triumvirs, who were now enjoying his\r\ndiscomfiture!\r\n\r\n"What\'s that damned noise?" Hogarth demanded, as if to lend confirmation\r\nto this theory.\r\n\r\nReaching for a secret switch, Dan snapped off the radio. Only a clever\r\nbluff, he knew, could save him now!\r\n\r\n"Oh, it\'s only the magnified sound of the impact of the gravitational\r\nrays upon the Deflector," he lied, glibly, still hoping against hope.\r\n"In other words, the vibrational impetus of--"\r\n\r\n"To hell with your long-winded explanations!" Wiley cut him short,\r\nimpatiently. "What we want to know is, what progress have you made? Any\r\nsign of getting the earth back in place?"\r\n\r\n"Time we gave you is about up!" said Malvine. "If you\'re not getting\r\nresults, better turn things over to some one else!"\r\n\r\n"Everything\'s in the devil\'s own mess!" sighed Hogarth. "It\'s hell on\r\nearth--people freezing to death right and left. By God! if I thought you\r\nweren\'t getting somewhere, I\'d have you choked to death, just for the\r\nfun of it!"\r\n\r\n"Well, as a matter of fact," fabricated Dan, "the Super-Detectonic rays\r\nare a bit slow in getting into operation. But you can\'t expect miracles.\r\nIf you\'ll give me a little more time--a few more days, maybe a\r\nweek--I\'ll promise you results."\r\n\r\nA cold sweat had broken out all over him before he had explained, in\r\nscientific detail, just why he might succeed if given another week.\r\nThank God! they had not suspected! Or had they suspected?--and were they\r\nonly toying with him? In any case, they had, wittingly or unwittingly,\r\nbroken into his experiment at the crucial point. Would he ever again\r\ncatch the interrupted message?\r\n\r\nHis fingers shaking with eagerness, he turned back to the radio. But\r\neven as he did so, the sneer on Wiley\'s retreating face hit him like a\r\ntaunt.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter the first cruel shock, Lucile had realized just what was behind\r\nDan\'s disappearance. She not only was sure that he had been kidnapped by\r\nHogarth and his gang, but that any effort on her part to report to the\r\npolice would result in her own immediate apprehension. Already her\r\nposition was perilous--might the conspirators not finish the job by\r\nseizing her at any moment? There was nothing to be done, therefore,\r\nexcept to change her residence, without informing anyone where she was\r\ngoing. Then, in secret, she might plan to free her husband.\r\n\r\nAt first, however, no tenable idea came to her. Meanwhile, through her\r\nold professors at Merlin University, where she had been an excellent\r\nstudent, she obtained access to the chemical laboratory, and\r\nexperimented day and night for means to increase the power of telurox.\r\nIf it were possible to divert to the earth enough of the gravity that\r\nshot past it into space, might the planet not even now be drawn back to\r\nits orbit?\r\n\r\nFor weeks she labored, without results. She was merely one more\r\ndiscouraged person in a discouraged world, when at length a startling\r\nincident occurred. She had gone out for a hasty bite of lunch, and on\r\nher return she noticed that her assistant, young Dick Harson, was\r\nlistening to the radio, as he often did, while munching at a sandwich.\r\n\r\n"Well, anything new?" she asked, with a faint smile.\r\n\r\n"Nothing but a crazy noise, like a telegrapher breaking in on the\r\nbroadcast," he answered. "If it\'s still on, I\'ll show you."\r\n\r\nHe switched the dial. "There it is!" he exclaimed, after a moment.\r\n"Doesn\'t it sound just like a secret code?"\r\n\r\nAt first she listened indifferently, her mind preoccupied; then gave a\r\nstart, for she recognized something astoundingly familiar. Surely, it\r\nwas but an accident! It must be an accident that the succession of long\r\nand short syllables made sense, according to her old code with Dan!\r\n"Imprisoned by the Triumvirs! Follow my directions, and we may still\r\nsave the world."\r\n\r\nHarson was astonished to see how eagerly the young woman sprang from her\r\nseat; and how she stood staring, as if she had seen a ghost.\r\n\r\nWith the frenzy of a famished person finding food, she bent down to\r\nlisten. For a minute she remained there, leaning over the radio with a\r\npuzzled look, as if she could not quite make out the message. Then, to\r\nHarson\'s still greater amazement, she dashed to the laboratory\'s short\r\nwave transmitter, and, beating together two bits of metal, began to send\r\nout a series of long and short sounds, similar to the signals they had\r\nheard.\r\n\r\nBy this time the rat-tat-tat from the other end had ceased. It was more\r\nthan half an hour later, when she had paused to rest momentarily, that\r\nfresh signals came over the radio. A flood of tears rushed to her eyes\r\nas she made out the words, "Lucile! Lucile--it is I!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Take this down, Lucy! Bismuth tetrachloride in combination with the\r\nborium salt I just mentioned will have a catalyzing effect on telurox,\r\nincreasing its activity fifty per cent--more than enough to bring the\r\nearth back to its orbit. So my experiments indicate. Try it out just as\r\nsoon as possible!"\r\n\r\nSuch was one of the first messages that Dan tapped out to his wife,\r\nafter a few explanatory interchanges.\r\n\r\n"For God\'s sake, hurry! At any minute those bandits may catch on!" the\r\nmessage continued. "Let me hear the results as soon as you can! We\'ve\r\njust got to succeed, and trap them!"\r\n\r\nSeveral days went by, while the signals still flashed back and forth.\r\nBut Dan knew, as did Lucile also, that their time was short, very short.\r\nAll too soon the week allowed him by Hogarth, Wiley and Malvine passed;\r\nall too soon the sinister three paid him another visit.\r\n\r\nThey found him still working at the Deflector, from whose interior once\r\nmore a strange rat-tat-tat was issuing.\r\n\r\n"Well," demanded Hogarth, "what success?"\r\n\r\nDan looked up casually. "Oh," he declared, trying to appear unconcerned,\r\n"as much as could be expected."\r\n\r\n"What the devil does that mean?" snapped Wiley, projecting his ridged\r\nhorse-face pugnaciously. "You promised results in a week. Have you had\r\nthem? Can you put the earth back on its orbit?"\r\n\r\n"If you\'ll give me more time--"\r\n\r\n"More time, and we\'ll all be driven to our deaths!" stormed Malvine.\r\n"Not another day! No, not another hour!"\r\n\r\nWiley, who had been peering into the recesses of the Deflector, was\r\nfumbling in an exploratory fashion at its fittings. Suddenly he pulled a\r\nhalf concealed lever, released a panel, and let out a low whistle. "What\r\nin blazes is this?"\r\n\r\nWith an angry wrench, he drew out a mass of wires, bulbs and batteries.\r\n"Looks to me like a radio transmitter!" he growled.\r\n\r\nAll three men glared menace at Dan. He had foreseen and dreaded this\r\nvery event. Confronted with the evidence, it would be folly to attempt a\r\ndenial. His only course would be to try to turn suspicion in the least\r\ndangerous channel.\r\n\r\n"Of course it\'s a radio transmitter," he admitted, quietly. "I\'ll be\r\nfrank with you--I was hoping to find a chance to get away."\r\n\r\nOminously the three conspirators closed about him. There was a nasty\r\nrumble in Wiley\'s voice as he decided. "Well then, you damned traitor,\r\nit\'s up to us to put you where you won\'t get away--not for many a good\r\nlong day! We were cursed fools to place any trust in you!"\r\n\r\nAbruptly he motioned to the guards. "Solitary confinement again--and a\r\nbread and water diet!" he barked. "Maybe that\'ll bring him around to\r\nreason!"\r\n\r\nBut even as Dan, bound and handcuffed, was being dragged off, he had\r\ngrim satisfaction in reflecting that his persecutors could not guess the\r\nreal purpose of his radio.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBy the first of September, the earth was farther off its course than\r\never. Eleven million, twelve million, thirteen million miles! And every\r\nday the distance widened. Would its orbit, like that of a periodic\r\ncomet, be lengthened into a long ellipse, taking it into the unthinkable\r\ncold beyond Jupiter or Saturn?\r\n\r\nThis was the question in every one\'s mind, when on September 2 a\r\nfull-page advertisement appeared in America\'s leading papers: "$50,000\r\nReward! For invention to counteract the Cosmic Deflector! All reasonable\r\npropositions given immediate personal attention. Hogarth, Wiley and\r\nMalvine."\r\n\r\nIt was on the never-to-be-forgotten third of September that the\r\nadvertisers received their first applicant for the award. It was a young\r\nwoman, of sad and earnest appearance; and the clerk who questioned her,\r\nperceiving that she had extraordinary information to offer, lost no time\r\nabout summoning Hogarth.\r\n\r\n"My name is Landers--Mary Landers," she introduced herself. "I was a\r\nlaboratory assistant of Daniel Holcomb when he invented telurox. I have\r\nbeen trying to increase its power, and have had remarkable success. In\r\nfact, I come to claim that fifty thousand."\r\n\r\nHogarth gasped.\r\n\r\nThe caller went on to explain how, as a result of a long series of\r\ncomputations, she had mixed a small quantity of a certain bismuth salt\r\nwith the telurox; and how this had increased its activity by more than\r\nfifty per cent. Fortunately, a huge Deflector had already been set up in\r\nthe laboratory, for experimental purposes.\r\n\r\n"Have you taken any observations today?" she finished. "If so, perhaps\r\nyou\'ve noticed that the earth is fifty thousand miles nearer the sun\r\nthan yesterday."\r\n\r\n"By glory!" exclaimed Hogarth. "That\'s just what Lasson Observatory\r\nreported, but I thought those fellows were all soused. Let\'s see! Got a\r\nmodel machine to show me?"\r\n\r\n"Everything\'s over at Merlin University. If you\'ll just step into your\r\ncar, we\'ll be there in twenty minutes."\r\n\r\n"You bet I will!" agreed Hogarth eagerly, as he reached for his hat. "No\r\nharm looking at it!"\r\n\r\nThe young woman started toward the door; then turned back, as if on an\r\nafter-thought. "Oh, by the way, don\'t your partners want to join us? I\'d\r\nlike to give a real demonstration, which it would waste a lot of good\r\ntime and energy to repeat."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t see what they\'ve got on hand more important," muttered Hogarth.\r\n"Wait a minute."\r\n\r\nFrom an adjoining room she could hear Hogarth\'s voice rising\r\ndisputatiously. "No harm investigating, anyhow!" And she could not keep\r\nback a secret exultation when, after a time, he appeared in company with\r\ntwo men whom he introduced as "Mr. Wiley" and "Mr. Malvine."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHalf an hour later, she had led them into the University laboratory, a\r\ncorner of which had been partitioned off. There a twenty-four-inch\r\ntelescope-like tube shot up through the ceiling; while nearer at hand\r\nwas a table covered with complicated electrical devices.\r\n\r\n"Well, trot out your discoveries!" barked Wiley.\r\n\r\nFrom a compartment Miss Landers drew three pairs of binoculars, with\r\nwires attached. "Adjust these, gentlemen," she instructed.\r\n\r\nAutomatically each man reached for a pair. And as they took them, a look\r\nof triumph crossed the woman\'s averted face. She pressed a button--and\r\nwith what astonishing results!\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Her finger sought the button behind her; found it...]\r\n\r\nAll three men gasped, and began to writhe. A convulsive shudder shot\r\nthrough each; they sagged, and fell to the floor; then gradually all\r\nthree stiffened, except for their necks and faces, which still twitched\r\nspasmodically.\r\n\r\nAt the same time, the young woman pressed a buzzer; and three men, in\r\nthe uniforms of university guards, hastened in with ropes, which they\r\nwound around the helpless trio.\r\n\r\n"What--what in hell\'s name is this?" sputtered Wiley, as he began to\r\nrecover from the first shock. "We--we\'re paralyzed!"\r\n\r\n"That\'s just it," stated the lady, calmly. "You\'re paralyzed, from the\r\nnecks down. I merely wanted to introduce you to another little invention\r\nof your friend Dan Holcomb. He asked me to show it to you, with his\r\ncompliments. You see, the rays of telurox, much diluted and carried over\r\na wire, will temporarily paralyze the human nerve centers. But have no\r\nfear. The spell will wear off in half an hour."\r\n\r\n"This--this is an outrage!" groaned Hogarth, as he lay amid his ropes.\r\n\r\n"Not at all. I\'m sure, when you\'re no longer paralyzed, you won\'t mind\r\nsigning a little paper, containing an order for the release of Mr.\r\nHolcomb--"\r\n\r\n"What the devil makes you so interested in Holcomb?" flared back Wiley.\r\n\r\n"Well, it\'s only that I happen to be his wife. Mary Landers is the name\r\nof a cousin of mine. Dan and I have been planning to get him out of your\r\ndungeon when you locked him up there again, as we expected you would.\r\nI\'m simply carrying out his ideas."\r\n\r\nAngry sounds, like the growls of enraged bears, came from the throats of\r\nall three prisoners.\r\n\r\n"If we sign," demanded Malvine, "will you let us go?"\r\n\r\n"There\'s only one promise I can make. If you don\'t sign, my friends\r\nhere"--she designated the three guards--"will see that you remain\r\nparalyzed."\r\n\r\nThe conspirators were trapped, and they knew it; were caught like rats\r\nin a corner, beyond rescue by the corrupt system they had built up. And\r\nso, after their paralysis had begun to wear off and they had been\r\nre-paralyzed several times in succession, they bowed their heads in\r\ncapitulation.\r\n\r\n"Come on," snarled Hogarth, "give us that damned paper!"\r\n\r\nHe glanced over the sheet, and an even angrier snarl came from his\r\nthroat.\r\n\r\n"You must think we\'re crazy, young lady!" he roared. "You can go to hell\r\nbefore we\'ll sign!"\r\n\r\nThe document was not only an order for Dan\'s release, but a confession\r\nof the criminal manner in which he had been seized and detained.\r\n\r\n"Better think it over, gentlemen," advised Lucile, as the prisoners\r\ncontinued to hold out against signing.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnd this was exactly what they did. After more than twelve hours, during\r\nwhich they were allowed neither food nor drink (it being impossible to\r\ndigest anything in a paralyzed state), the victims realized that they\r\nhad no chance except to sign, or miserably to perish. And not being of\r\nthe stuff of which heroes are made, they grumblingly asked the guards to\r\ndeparalyze them sufficiently to let them sign the paper.\r\n\r\nThus it came about that Dan was again delivered from the basement\r\nprison, and that he and his wife were restored to one another\'s arms.\r\nThus, thanks to his discovery and her application of it, the earth was\r\nsaved from the most terrible peril in history, and gradually was brought\r\nback to its true orbit. And thus, after Dan had broadcasted all he knew\r\nabout the plots of the Triumvirate, Hogarth, Wiley and Malvine were\r\ndiscredited and disgraced, and, deserted by their confederates, stood\r\ntrial for Dan\'s kidnapping and imprisonment. The last that was heard of\r\nthem, they were still serving their twenty-year terms at Wilmott\r\nPenitentiary.\r\n\r\nAs for the Cosmic Deflector--after the earth\'s orbit was righted, the\r\nsecret of it was sealed in a vault at Merlin University. "I\'ve\r\ndiscovered, Lucile," remarked Dan, shortly after his release, "it\'s not\r\na safe invention to entrust in human hands.\r\n\r\n"But there\'s one thing," he went on, as his lips moved toward hers, "if\r\nit drew the earth out of its orbit, it also drew us closer together."\r\n\r\nHer answering smile told him that, so far as they were concerned, the\r\nDeflector had been a success.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\'s The Cosmic Deflector, by Stanton A. Coblentz\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSMIC DEFLECTOR ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Business For the Lawyers'

'Robin, Ralph'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Business For the Lawyers\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Business For the Lawyers\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Ralph Robin\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Sam Kweskin\r\n\r\nRelease date: August 23, 2015 [eBook #49767]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUSINESS FOR THE LAWYERS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Bump-Arch had to complete his experiment or spend five more years\r\n as an apprentice Scientist--and if successful, his feat would\r\n provide plenty of\r\n\r\n BUSINESS for the LAWYERS\r\n\r\n _By Ralph Robin_\r\n\r\n _Illustration by Sam Kweskin_\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from Other Worlds\r\n March 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n"Time," said the Grandmaster of the Guild.\r\n\r\nIt was the formal word, and the scientists were silent; except\r\nProudwalk, a biologist, who laughed at something whispered in her ear\r\nby a physicist named Snubnose, her brother.\r\n\r\n"Time," the Grandmaster repeated, and in a moment even Proudwalk was\r\nquiet, and Snubnose folded his arms.\r\n\r\n"I do not need to tell you that today is the Day of the Candidate,"\r\nsaid the Grandmaster, supporting himself with an air of great age on\r\nhis ceremonial staff of polished copper.\r\n\r\n"But he will tell us--in many words," Snubnose whispered now. "Next\r\nwinter solstice I am going to propose we double the offering."\r\n\r\nProudwalk sniggered.\r\n\r\nIt was the practice in the Guild of Scientists that a grandmaster, once\r\nelected, served for life or until he voluntarily retired. Every year\r\nthe body formally offered its grandmaster a lump sum to retire. Popular\r\nincumbents were offered one tilsin, an obsolete unit worth less than\r\nthe smallest real coin. Others were sometimes offered large amounts.\r\n\r\nThis system did not encourage elderly grandmasters to be laconic.\r\n\r\nUnnecessarily consulting his notes, the Grandmaster declaimed, "On\r\nthis Day of the Candidate, the 155th day of the year 1712, Dynastic\r\nReckoning Corrected--"\r\n\r\nSnubnose muttered, "Anybody else would say DRC."\r\n\r\nProudwalk patted his lips. "Hush," she said.\r\n\r\n"--we are initiating the consideration of the candidature of Bump-arch\r\napprentice physicist in the service of Crookback, a master physicist\r\nbeloved and esteemed by us all. The candidature of Bump-arch will\r\nbe governed by the Principles, by the Laws of the Guild, and by\r\nAcknowledged Custom. The procedure--"\r\n\r\nWhile the Grandmaster talked, Snubnose pondered the familiar\r\nprocedure--and some implications the venerable bore didn\'t concern\r\nhimself with.\r\n\r\nTo become a journeyman scientist, an apprentice had to do two things.\r\nHe had to complete his term of service. And he had to perform on a Day\r\nof the Candidate a successful demonstration in his own branch of the\r\nscientific art.\r\n\r\nThe demonstration always took place on the Field of Proof before the\r\nwhole body. It could be either an original experiment or a "restored\r\nexperiment"--one reconstructed from fragments of ancient texts.\r\nStandards were low and almost anything was accepted, so long as the\r\ncandidate accomplished what he said he would. If a conceited or, as\r\noccasionally happened, a gifted young man attempted a very complicated\r\ndemonstration, and it didn\'t come off--well, it was just too bad.\r\n\r\nThe unfortunate candidate could either serve another five years of\r\napprenticeship and try again, or give up all connection with the Guild.\r\nIf he left the Guild of Scientists, he couldn\'t be admitted in any\r\nother Guild.\r\n\r\nWhich was no laughing matter.\r\n\r\nOnly journeymen and masters and kingsmen--in the general sense, both\r\nmen and women--had full rights of citizens, including the right to\r\nmarry by Public Law. Others might get married by Private Law, but that\r\nwas a rather uncomfortable method.\r\n\r\nUnder Private Law, a man and a woman would sign a contract to marry,\r\nand if they succeeded in living together--"dwelling under the same\r\nroof as husband and wife"--for five years without being discovered\r\nby the Public Law police, they could then live together openly. They\r\nwould then be as legally married as the most respectable members of the\r\nGuild of Merchants. But if the Public Law police caught them before the\r\n"years of cover" were completed, they were separated and sold as slaves.\r\n\r\nPermission of all the parents was required for marriage by Public\r\nLaw, whatever the age of the lovers. Consequently, even high-ranking\r\nguildfolk sometimes took their chances with Private Law, although most\r\nwho tried it ended their lives threshing rye for the Lords of the West.\r\n\r\nFor example, Singwell and Gray-eyes....\r\n\r\nSnubnose found such thoughts painful. He glanced at his sister and\r\nwondered how she could go on looking so cheerful. "But I suppose I look\r\ncheerful, myself," he thought. Indeed, he had the kind of face that\r\ncouldn\'t look otherwise.\r\n\r\nSnubnose followed his sister\'s eyes to the Candidate\'s stool; where\r\nBump-arch, Proudwalk\'s lover and his friend, sat indolently, with his\r\nlong legs twisted under him.\r\n\r\nHe wondered what Proudwalk and Bump-arch were going to do.\r\n\r\nCertainly they weren\'t going to get married by Public Law. He\r\nwinced as he remembered the furious screams of his mother every\r\ntime Proudwalk brought up the question. Snubnose took his sister\'s\r\nside, but it seemed hopeless to win their mother over. And even if\r\nthey succeeded, it wouldn\'t do any good. Bump-arch wasn\'t going to\r\nqualify for journeyman\'s rank, because he had stubbornly insisted on a\r\ndemonstration that was sure to fail.\r\n\r\nIt was a crazy situation, Snubnose thought. Here he himself was a\r\nfull-fledged journeyman, and here was his sister a full-fledged\r\njourneywoman, while a talented fellow like Bump-arch would remain an\r\napprentice or become a guildless outcast. For that difficulty he had\r\nnobody to blame but himself, Snubnose reflected, in the virtuous way we\r\nmeditate upon the mistakes of our friends.\r\n\r\nNow the Grandmaster was introducing Crookback, Bump-arch\'s master, and\r\nas late as the previous Day of the Candidate, Snubnose\'s master as\r\nwell. Snubnose looked at the old man more affectionately than he had\r\nwhile in his service. But he blamed Crookback for permitting Bump-arch\r\nto go ahead with his impossible demonstration. He was puzzled, as\r\nusual, by the motives of the old master physicist, born with a bent\r\nbody and a clever, enigmatic mind.\r\n\r\nA few formal words, a brief joke, and a couple of compliments--and\r\nCrookback presented the Candidate.\r\n\r\nBump-arch unwound his legs and stood before them. "Elder ones," he\r\nbegan traditionally, and Snubnose thought he caught a quick, impudent\r\nlook. Bump-arch was young--the three of them were young together in\r\ntheir city and their time--but he was two years older than Snubnose and\r\na year older than Proudwalk. He had started his apprenticeship a little\r\nlater than was usual.\r\n\r\n"I will say the thing. I will attempt the thing. Yours, elder ones, to\r\njudge whether the thing is done, whether I am worthy to sit among you."\r\nThese too were traditional phrases.\r\n\r\n"I will construct a chamber," he said casually, "in which I will go\r\nirreversibly from today, 155th-1712 DRC, to a day in the future,\r\n155th-1717 DRC. I would be proud to claim this demonstration as my own\r\ndiscovery, but it is not; it is a restored experiment. I follow the\r\ndirections I copied, while still a boy, from an ancient inscription\r\nin a vault outside the walls. The vault was afterward buried by the\r\nearthquake."\r\n\r\n"And very conveniently too," Snubnose added to himself. Bump-arch had\r\nnot admitted it, even to him, but Snubnose was convinced that the\r\nchamber was his friend\'s own invention.\r\n\r\n"Reverence, elder ones," Bump-arch said and walked to the arched door\r\nof the meeting room.\r\n\r\n"Time," said the Grandmaster.\r\n\r\nSnubnose, rising, heard a conversation behind him, as two master\r\nchemists shuffled to their feet.\r\n\r\n"Do you think the youngster will do it?" one asked.\r\n\r\n"Well, there\'s a tradition about it," the other said.\r\n\r\n"Yes, and there\'s a tradition about the elixir of life and a hundred\r\ntexts as well, and you remember what happened to the young fellow who\r\ntried to make it."\r\n\r\nThere was a chuckle. "I remember, and he\'s not so young any more, and\r\nhe\'s the best apprentice I have for washing glassware. Most experience."\r\n\r\nProudwalk had heard the conversation also, and her face turned red. She\r\nraised her delicate nose--quite unlike her brother\'s snub--and sniffed\r\nloudly.\r\n\r\n"I think I smell hydrogen sulfide," she said.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCarrying his copper staff the Grandmaster paced to the arched doorway,\r\nfollowed by Crookback. Bump-arch bowed as they preceded him through the\r\ndoor; and he had to bend his head again to pass through, for Bump-arch\r\nwas partly of Bowman stock and tall for a man of the City.\r\n\r\nThe masters and mistresses of the Guild, the journeymen and\r\njourneywomen, filed out behind the Candidate in the order of their\r\nseniority. When Proudwalk and her brother reached the Street of the\r\nScientists, already the kingsman and the godsman had taken their places\r\nto the right and the left of the Grandmaster in the foremost rank of\r\nthe procession.\r\n\r\nThe kingsman wore his second gaudiest uniform--the most splendid was\r\nreserved for coronations--and carried his silver mace of authority.\r\nThe godsman was naked, as above display and free of the temptations of\r\nsex. He carried nothing, for his nakedness was his badge of office. It\r\nwas death for anyone except a godsman or a godswoman to be found in a\r\npublic place unclothed.\r\n\r\nThere came next the Candidate and his master, and after them by two\'s\r\nthe whole body of scientists. Proudwalk and Snubnose walked together,\r\nthe last pair.\r\n\r\nEarly in the morning Snubnose had determined to cheer up his sister as\r\nmuch as he could on this unhappy day. Now she walked along so lightly\r\nand smiled so much and so gaily, that it was obvious that she needed no\r\ncheering. Snubnose was irritated.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t see why you didn\'t talk him out of it," he said. "He might\r\nhave listened to you where he wouldn\'t listen to me. He has the odd\r\ndelusion that you\'re smarter than I."\r\n\r\n"I am," said Proudwalk.\r\n\r\nSnubnose growled.\r\n\r\nHe said, "You must not care about him as much as you let on, for all\r\nyour mooning around the gardens. Well, it doesn\'t surprise me much.\r\nYou women are all obsessed with family pride, no matter how liberal\r\nyou pretend to be. Of course you can\'t marry Bump-arch, whose mother\'s\r\nfather was a Bowman. Our--two to the tenth power--one thousand and\r\ntwenty-four ancestors, all pure City, all guildfolk from the very best\r\nguilds, would disturb every palace in Spiritland with their wailing. So\r\nnow Bump-arch won\'t qualify, and it will be an easy out for you."\r\n\r\n"Snubnose, you know that\'s not true. But I\'ll tell you something." She\r\nlowered her voice. "I told Bump-arch not to listen to you and to go\r\nahead with his demonstration."\r\n\r\n"But why? Even if you are only a biologist, you ought to know from your\r\nbasic studies that all the best thinkers in physics for five hundred\r\nyears have regarded time travel as a physical impossibility and all old\r\ntraditions of time travel as myths."\r\n\r\n"Oh little gods. Whatever we can\'t do any more is impossible and a\r\nmyth. We just won\'t admit we are not as good scientists as our remote\r\nancestors. But some of us are as good, or even better."\r\n\r\n"By all the gods, big and little, you really do love the poor fellow.\r\nHe\'s good, but not that good. What will you do now? Wait till he\r\nfinishes another apprenticeship and hope mother changes her mind\r\nmeanwhile? And then he would probably come up with another impossible\r\ndemonstration. Listen," he said, whispering in her ear, "if you two are\r\nthinking of something crazy like Private Law at least let me know so I\r\ncan help you. I wish father were alive," he added helplessly.\r\n\r\n"So do I. He was the only one in our family with any sense. Thanks just\r\nthe same, Snubnose," she said, and she pressed his hand.\r\n\r\nFor a little while he solemnly held her hand, then suddenly dropped it.\r\n\r\n"I didn\'t think," he said. "This is worse than ever. If you really\r\nbelieve that Bump-arch\'s demonstration is going to work, you don\'t seem\r\na bit worried about the fact that you won\'t see him for five years. And\r\nanother thing," said the young man, "if his physics are right you will\r\nbe getting old and he will be the same age he is now."\r\n\r\n"In five years I\'ll be an old, old woman," said the girl sarcastically,\r\n"and you\'ll be an old, old man, and we\'ll sit in the square in the sun\r\nand talk about all this. But right now let\'s quit talking about it,\r\nbecause I see that little Shrill-voice ahead of us there is pricking up\r\nher ears."\r\n\r\nBut she herself said one more thing. "If you\'re so anxious to worry,\r\nworry about the Principles. That\'s the one thing that is bothering me."\r\n\r\nThen they smiled at each other and were silent. And soon a wave of\r\nsilence washed back to them as the head of the procession turned from\r\nthe Street of the Scientists, lined with its wind-ruffled oaks, to the\r\nopen shining Avenue of the Sun, where no person might speak without\r\nsacrilege.\r\n\r\nThe godsman raised his hands to the sun, and everyone else, entering\r\nthe Avenue, bowed his head.\r\n\r\nThey marched in silence, formally, humbly, until at the Street of\r\nWard, arms clashed in salute. Here were the apartments of the honorary\r\nmilitia, the warders. The street ran between their dwellings and the\r\ncity wall. The warders had formed their squads on the flat roofs, and\r\nthey were happily juggling their polished weapons; more effective for\r\ntheir sparkle and clang, wiseacres said, than for repelling the Bowmen.\r\n\r\nDuring the previous generation, mobile units of the Public Law police\r\nhad taken over the job of fighting the intermittent wars with the\r\nBowmen. For that reason, as Snubnose knew well, the police would be\r\nespecially vindictive in tracking down Bump-arch and Proudwalk if they\r\nattempted a Private Law marriage. The Public Law police hated anyone\r\nwith genes of the Bowmen in his chromosomes.\r\n\r\nThe last squad of warders saluted, and the scientists trooped onto\r\nthe Field of Proof. It was called in one of the songs of the Guild\r\nof Scientists "verdant place where truth doth reign." But the place\r\nwas only spottily verdant, because the apprentice biologists who\r\nwere supposed to keep the Field grassed were not conscientious. They\r\nspent most of their time in the Ready Hall gossiping with prospective\r\ncandidates.\r\n\r\nDust rose from large bare patches beneath the copper-tipped shoes of\r\nthe scientists.\r\n\r\nAt a sign from the Grandmaster, the guildfolk spread in a single\r\ncircle. The Grandmaster took his position at the center of the circle\r\nwith the Candidate, the Candidate\'s master, the kingsman, and the\r\ngodsman.\r\n\r\nThe Bowman strain in Bump-arch was conspicuous, as he stood beside\r\nthe others. It was marked by his height and by the unmistakable way\r\nthe bones of his face shaped themselves. A romantic girl could look\r\nat him and think of a noble primitive and fall in love, Snubnose\r\nreflected. A family-proud dame could look at him and think of the\r\npublic slaves--Bowmen captured in battle--sweating and stinking in the\r\nbuilding gangs.\r\n\r\n"What do I think?" Snubnose asked himself. He shrugged. "Bump-arch is\r\nmy friend."\r\n\r\nHe turned to say something to his sister, and he saw that she had left\r\nhim. While the circle had been forming, she had moved a quarter way\r\naround. Now her eyes were fixed on her lover.\r\n\r\nSnubnose felt vaguely hurt. He said to himself, childishly, "They\'re up\r\nto something, and they\'re treating me like a little boy again."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Time," said the Grandmaster.\r\n\r\nAnd what was time? Snubnose, the grown-up physicist, asked himself that\r\nquestion.\r\n\r\nIn his physics it was the denominator of velocity; squared, the\r\ndenominator of acceleration. In old texts--incomplete, variously\r\ntranslated, little understood--it was called a dimension when\r\nmultiplied by an imaginary number. But imaginary numbers had no place\r\nin physics. So it had been decided in 1480 DRC, at the historic\r\nconference of scientists, kingsmen, and godsmen. Imaginary numbers,\r\nwith some other concepts, had been declared metaphysics and had been\r\nturned over to the godsmen. Just as neuroses, because of their\r\ntraditional origin in sexual impulses, had been taken away from the\r\npsychologists and assigned to the kingsmen.\r\n\r\nSnubnose remembered how Crookback had catechized the pair of them,\r\nBump-arch and him, on the Principles. How did that one go? "Science\r\nappertains only to matter itself; not to the mysteries of matter or the\r\ndesires of matter. The mysteries of matter belong to the gods, and the\r\ndesires of matter belong to the king."\r\n\r\nOr something like that.\r\n\r\nHe hadn\'t been quick with his lessons, like Bump-arch. His friend had\r\nscoffed at the Principles when alone with him, but had learned them\r\nby heart after a couple of offhand readings. Snubnose would sweat and\r\nsweat and think he had them, but when the time came to recite, the\r\nwords would fly out the window into the fresh-smelling air.\r\n\r\nOld Crookback had got so disgusted with him once that he had put him on\r\nbread and water. And then Bump-arch had sneaked out over the city wall\r\nand had caught a rabbit in a homemade trap and had talked one of the\r\nwomen of the settled Bowmen into cooking it for them. Gods, that had\r\ntasted good at midnight....\r\n\r\nThe circle of scientists was getting noisy. Snubnose\'s nearest\r\nneighbors were loudly rehashing the latest Private Law marriage.\r\nSnubnose wondered suddenly, why didn\'t the demonstration start? The\r\nGrandmaster had said, "Time." Was there trouble?\r\n\r\nIn the center of the Field, while Bump-arch stood apart, the\r\ndignitaries were carrying on one of those exasperating public wrangles,\r\nobvious but inaudible. The godsman was doing most of the talking,\r\nwaving a plump arm. The Grandmaster looked unhappy, the kingsman looked\r\nimportant, and Crookback looked polite.\r\n\r\nThe godsman was so excited he absent-mindedly scratched his bare\r\nbuttock. He caught himself and blushed--a total affair for a\r\ngodsman--and during his embarrassment, Crookback began to talk. The\r\ngodsman kept shaking his head and interrupting, but Crookback went on\r\ntalking, and finally the godsman seemed to give a reluctant consent.\r\n\r\nThe Grandmaster raised his hand high, with the fingers spread, and a\r\ngirl apprentice burst from the door of the Ready Hall. She ran across\r\nthe Field, and two scientists smilingly moved aside to let her through.\r\nShe stood panting before the Grandmaster. He handed her the symbolic\r\nmessenger\'s key and spoke to her briefly--briefly for the Grandmaster.\r\n\r\nShe was off on the run.\r\n\r\nSnubnose didn\'t know what was happening, but it looked as if the\r\ngodsman had made some kind of a concession. He was sure that must be\r\nfor the good and felt relieved--until the Grandmaster, leaning on his\r\ncopper staff, addressed the guildfolk.\r\n\r\nThe Grandmaster began: "The holy one submitted an objection concerning\r\na possible violation of the Principles and proposed to forbid the\r\ndemonstration by the Candidate."\r\n\r\nIf that stood, Bump-arch would probably be tried for sacrilege in\r\nGodsmen\'s Castle. Yet the godsman had seemed to give ground....\r\n\r\n"Needless to say, both the distinguished master of the Candidate and\r\nI myself, speaking individually for ourselves, and, in my own case\r\nespecially, speaking for the Guild of Scientists as a body, assured the\r\nholy one of our reverent adherence to the Principles, and--"\r\n\r\nHe was interrupted by the angry voice of the godsman.\r\n\r\n"Get on!"\r\n\r\nThe guildfolk buzzed. As often as they might have liked to tell their\r\nGrandmaster to get on, this was an insult to the Guild. But they were\r\nquickly silent, for it was an insult they would have to swallow, at\r\nleast in public.\r\n\r\nThe Grandmaster swallowed it too, visibly gulping, and he said mildly,\r\n"The holy one has generously agreed to submit the issue to the High\r\narbiter of the Guild of Lawyers, and the High Arbiter has been sent\r\nfor."\r\n\r\nIt was the last thing said that alarmed Snubnose, and he looked at his\r\nsister and saw that for the first time her face was tight with unease.\r\nThe High Arbiter was an old friend of their mother\'s, which was not\r\nlikely to make him a friend of theirs today. He moved in the same\r\nsnobbish society as their mother and had many times clucked with her\r\nabout Proudwalk\'s "infatuation for that lowborn young man."\r\n\r\nSnubnose would have liked to leave his place in the circle of\r\nscientists and join Proudwalk, but it was against Acknowledged Custom\r\nto change position once the circle was formed.\r\n\r\nEveryone now was shuffling uncomfortably in the hot sun, except the\r\ngodsman who was exposed to the cooling air and had the godsmen\'s secret\r\nof escaping sunburn. And Bump-arch, who looked as uncomfortable as\r\nanybody else but did not shuffle. He stood still and straight while\r\nsweat ran down his face into the tight black neckband of an apprentice.\r\nOnce he seemed to look at Snubnose and wink, or perhaps he was only\r\nwinking the sweat away.\r\n\r\nAn elephant moved slowly down the Street of Ward and onto the Field\r\nof Proof. It was a ponderous metal ovoid bearing on its roof a velvet\r\npavilion with the curtains drawn. The circle of scientists parted and\r\nopened, and the elephant, with much grinding, came to a stop a few feet\r\nfrom the group in the center of the Field.\r\n\r\nThe driver, an apprentice lawyer, climbed from his hole and parted the\r\ncurtains of the pavilion. The High Arbiter looked out at the world with\r\na sour expression. He did not descend.\r\n\r\n"I will hear the holy one first," he said from his roost.\r\n\r\nThe godsman raised his hands to the sun, and spoke.\r\n\r\n"Wise one! The Candidate and his master, abetted by the Grandmaster\r\nof the Guild of Scientists, are shamelessly defying the Principles.\r\nThe Candidate is preparing to demonstrate the accelerated movement of\r\nmatter into the future. That is a mystery of matter. Only the gods\r\ncan know the path that things take from the dimming past to the dark\r\nfuture. Scientists must confine themselves to their arts and not try to\r\nsteal the mysteries belonging to the gods.\r\n\r\n"The gods grant knowledge of mysteries to godsmen who have humbly\r\nsupplicated, not to thieves. Let the scientists work to improve the\r\nfire-wheels that spin through the night seeking out the encampments of\r\nthe Bowmen. Let them mix better fertilizers to sell to the Lords of the\r\nWest. Let them keep in repair the ancient elephants for the honor of\r\nour exalted citizens."\r\n\r\nThe High Arbiter looked slightly less sour, and he nodded shortly. "I\r\nwill hear the Grandmaster of the Guild of Scientists," he said.\r\n\r\nThe Grandmaster lifted his head.\r\n\r\n"Wise one!" he said. "The godsman jibes, and with some basis.\r\nGeneration to generation, the fire-wheels spin more slowly and seek\r\nless surely. The fertilizers grow leaner. The ceremonial elephants\r\nare fewer and worse. Perhaps the godsmen are not supplicating hard\r\nenough for solutions to mysteries of matter--solutions which would\r\nenable the scientists to control matter. In the impious days before the\r\nPrinciples, matter served mystery and mystery served matter, and by\r\nsome inexplicable mercy of the gods, things went very well."\r\n\r\nYears of banality, years of caution, years of looking to his retirement\r\noffering had, for a little while, lost their hold on him.\r\n\r\nSnubnose was silently raging. What a place, he thought, for the\r\nGrandmaster to burst out with that kind of thing. True, scientists\r\nsometimes talked that way in the Guild social rooms, especially\r\nafter drinking illegal grain distillate, but here it could only hurt\r\nBump-arch\'s cause.\r\n\r\nSnubnose looked at his friend. Bump-arch was trying to suppress a\r\njubilant smile. Surprised, Snubnose looked at his sister. She was\r\njumping up and down with pleasure, as he hadn\'t seen her do for at\r\nleast two years.\r\n\r\n"Romantics," he said to himself.\r\n\r\nThe High Arbiter had a talent for looking displeased, and now he did\r\nnot stint.\r\n\r\n"I note the Grandmaster\'s improper tone," he said stiffly.\r\n"Furthermore, his remarks are irrelevant to the issue. The holy one\r\nsays that the demonstration treats of a mystery of matter in violation\r\nof the Principles. In view of the Grandmaster\'s failure to refute\r\nthat, it is highly probable. However, it will have to be established\r\nby authority and precedent--unless the demonstration involves an idea\r\nspecifically forbidden, which would be conclusive. I will hear the holy\r\none."\r\n\r\n"There is indeed a forbidden idea. It is known from tradition and old\r\ntexts that the mathematic of accelerated movement through time involves\r\nimaginary numbers. At the conference of 1480 DRC it was confirmed that\r\nimaginary numbers are a metaphysical concept forbidden to scientists."\r\n\r\n"I will hear the Candidate\'s master."\r\n\r\nA light cloud was filtering the sunlight, and the old man seemed cool\r\nand calm. He took a step to a little mound of good grass as if he were\r\nclimbing to a rostrum.\r\n\r\n"Wise one! Neither the holy one nor our own Grandmaster--both devoted\r\npatriots with their minds on the welfare of the City--thought to\r\nbring one very important fact to your attention. My apprentice\'s\r\ndemonstration is not an original experiment; it is a reconstructed\r\nexperiment. By Acknowledged Custom, reconstructed experiments are\r\npermitted regardless of mysteries and ideas so long as the experimenter\r\ndoes not comprehend any impious theory but merely follows the practical\r\ndirections of old texts.\r\n\r\n"I declare that my apprentice is ignorant of the theory of his\r\ndemonstration--and who is in a better position to know than his master?"\r\n\r\nSnubnose rejoiced. He was ready to forgive even the bread and water. In\r\na few sentences Crookback had excused the Grandmaster\'s rashness, had\r\nmade good the Grandmaster\'s oversight, and had set forth a strong case\r\nfor Bump-arch.\r\n\r\n"I will hear the holy one."\r\n\r\n"Let him prove that!" the godsman shouted.\r\n\r\n"I will hear the Candidate\'s master."\r\n\r\n"I regret that I cannot prove it absolutely. Negatives are difficult of\r\nproof. I suggest that the Candidate swear to his ignorance by the God\r\nMother-Father."\r\n\r\n"You should know that apprentices are not eligible to take oaths," the\r\nHigh Arbiter said impatiently, dropping the formal manner as if in a\r\nhurry to finish the proceedings--and finish Bump-arch.\r\n\r\nEncouraged, the godsman cried, "Let Crookback swear to it. He was\r\nwilling to declare it."\r\n\r\n"Will you?" the High Arbiter asked Crookback.\r\n\r\n"Though I am sure of the truth, my reverence for the God Mother-Father\r\nis too great to permit me to swear to the contents of another\'s mind--"\r\n\r\n"That, and not wanting to be tried for false swearing," Snubnose\r\nmuttered. He admired his old master a lot less.\r\n\r\n"--but I will swear by the God Mother-Father that I myself am ignorant\r\nof the theory."\r\n\r\n"What good is that?" the godsman demanded.\r\n\r\nCleverly, the master stood in respectful silence. There was an awkward\r\npause--awkward for the godsman and the High Arbiter--and then the High\r\nArbiter collected himself and said, "The question may be answered. I\r\nwill hear the Candidate\'s master."\r\n\r\n"I am shocked and saddened," said Crookback, "that the holy one\r\nbelieves that apprentices, still wearing their neckbands, excel in\r\nwisdom the masters of the guilds."\r\n\r\nThe High Arbiter\'s driver, who had been squatting meekly by the\r\nelephant, suddenly let loose a screaming laugh, which he cut off just\r\nas suddenly with a scared catch of breath.\r\n\r\n"I will hear the oath," the High Arbiter said.\r\n\r\nCrookback swore by the God Mother-Father while the godsman glowered.\r\nThe High Arbiter said, "The demonstration may proceed. My apprentices\r\nwill present my bills tomorrow, including commutation of fees for\r\ntwenty journeyman lawyers, since you did not place the issue in King\'s\r\nCourts."\r\n\r\nEverybody winced, and the elephant rumbled away.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe doors of the Ready Hall opened, and the whole body of apprentice\r\nscientists marched on the Field. They carried sections of steel sheet,\r\nlengths of magnesium tubing, and parts of machines unfamiliar to the\r\nguildfolk. Under Bump-arch\'s direction they began to assemble the\r\nequipment and to enclose it in a small building.\r\n\r\nBump-arch had planned well. They put the components together quickly,\r\nand marched from the Field. They had erected a cubical chamber of\r\nbright steel with an opening near the ground just big enough for a\r\nperson--not too fat a person--to crawl through. Above the opening a\r\nclosing panel was suspended in grooves.\r\n\r\nThe Grandmaster and the godsman and the kingsman inspected the setup\r\nwith the peculiar ignorant attention of high officials. Each walked\r\naround the cube once and rapped it with his fingers here and there.\r\nEach solemnly stooped to the ground and put his head in the opening,\r\nalthough it was dark inside and nothing was visible. The plump godsman\r\nmade a move as if to crawl in, then backed away.\r\n\r\nThe kingsman brushed dust from his cloak, and the inspection seemed to\r\nbe over. The three officials and Crookback withdrew to the circle of\r\nscientists and stood just within it, a little to the left of Snubnose.\r\n\r\nBump-arch took hold of the door panel, the only projection on the\r\nsmoothness of the cube, and scrambled to the roof, where he could be\r\nseen by the whole circle.\r\n\r\nNow Bump-arch was really enjoying himself, Snubnose thought. And\r\nProudwalk was enjoying Bump-arch with her big eyes.\r\n\r\n"Elder ones, whether my experiment succeeds or fails, the outcome will\r\nbe self-evident. I make no qualifications and prepare no excuses. I\r\nwill now go ahead with the demonstration."\r\n\r\nSnubnose said to himself, "It\'s a better performance than the High\r\nArbiter gave on his elephant." He would have liked to yell some words\r\nof encouragement.\r\n\r\n"Before I start," Bump-arch added, "as required by the Laws of the\r\nGuild, I ask, are there any among you who wish to inspect my apparatus?"\r\n\r\nIt was no longer considered good manners to accept that invitation, but\r\na journeyman physicist named Red-hair stepped forward. He walked very\r\ncarefully, and Snubnose wondered how much grain distillate he had drunk\r\nthat morning.\r\n\r\nBefore he reached the steel chamber, Red-hair yelled to the Candidate,\r\n"Tell me how to start it. I don\'t like our times anyway."\r\n\r\n"It\'s not going very far," Bump-arch said easily.\r\n\r\n"It\'s not going anywhere, boy," Red-hair roared. "Everybody knows that.\r\nI don\'t know why we\'ve wasted so much time today."\r\n\r\n"You\'d better not move any dials! There are a couple of ten-day lamps\r\ninside, if you want to look around."\r\n\r\nRed-hair crawled through the opening. Five minutes later he crawled\r\nout, his hair in his eyes. "I can\'t make anything of it," he said to\r\neverybody in general, and he resumed his place in the circle.\r\n\r\n"Now, elder ones, does anyone else wish to inspect the apparatus?"\r\n\r\n"I do!"\r\n\r\nIt was Proudwalk.\r\n\r\nShe walked on grass and over the patches of shifting dust; walked with\r\nthe graceful, slightly affected manner that had given her the name.\r\nThere was the pride in her walk, and there was sexuality.\r\n\r\nBump-arch leaped to the ground to meet her. He bowed as if they were\r\nat the King\'s Councillor\'s Ball and he were asking her for the dance.\r\nProudwalk touched her palms together in the stylized gesture of\r\nacceptance. Immediately she slipped through the entrance. Bump-arch\r\nstooped, and quickly followed her. The door panel dropped down its\r\ngrooves, sealing the chamber.\r\n\r\nThe scientists chattered; the godsman shouted.\r\n\r\nThe kingsman raised his voice. "What\'s going on, Grandmaster?"\r\n\r\n"A reconstructed demonstration attempting the accelerated movement of\r\nmatter through time to the relatively near future by an apprentice\r\nwho, having completed the requisite service, has been admitted to\r\ncandidature for the rank of journeyman physicist."\r\n\r\nThe Grandmaster took a breath.\r\n\r\n"Ask the Candidate\'s master," the godsman said, with the calmness now\r\nof more intense anger. "You heard him trick the High Arbiter into\r\nruling that a mystery of matter is not a mystery and a forbidden idea\r\nis not forbidden. Maybe he can convince you that a desire of matter is\r\nnot a desire of matter."\r\n\r\nCrookback spoke up at once. "It would seem an unlikely place to give\r\nway to desire, but I am an old bachelor, as ignorant of the desires of\r\nmatter as of its mysteries. However, young men and women frequently\r\nwork together on scientific experiments."\r\n\r\n"Not in windowless boxes," said the kingsman. "And who gave her\r\nleave to help the Candidate? There is something odd about this whole\r\ndemonstration, and I\'m going to find out what it is."\r\n\r\nThe kingsman strode to the little building. The sun had returned in\r\nfull brightness, and the alloyed-steel walls were glistening. The\r\nkingsman glistened too: the smooth fabric of his cloak--his silver\r\nornaments--his mace of massy silver.\r\n\r\nSharply he rapped with his mace on the closed door. There was\r\nafterwards silence. He rapped again. There was again silence.\r\n\r\nThe kingsman lost his temper. He brought back his mace and swung it\r\nfiercely toward the wall of the chamber.\r\n\r\nThe blow of massy silver against steel did not come. The wildly\r\nswinging arm and mace whirled through the air. The kingsman fell\r\nforward.\r\n\r\nHe sprawled, splendid and ridiculous: defeated by air.\r\n\r\nThere was no cubical building. The guildfolk faced each other across\r\nthe Field. Where the steel cube had stood, the kingsman was getting to\r\nhis knees.\r\n\r\nFloating gently through the air, separating and drifting down, were\r\nmany sheets of paper.\r\n\r\nSnubnose picked up one of the papers as it fell. It was headed "COPY OF\r\nCONTRACT" and dated that Day of the Candidate, 155th-1712 DRC. It said:\r\n"Hereby do Bump-arch, apprentice physicist, and Proudwalk, journeywoman\r\nbiologist, contract under Private Law a marriage between them: and do\r\nundertake to dwell as husband and wife under the same roof for a period\r\nof five years in validation of this marriage: such period to terminate\r\nfor purposes of the Private Law upon 155th-1717 DRC, but to continue\r\nunder other roofs for the duration of their lives."\r\n\r\n"Time," said the Grandmaster.\r\n\r\nWalking slowly home to face his mother, Snubnose said to himself, "This\r\none will keep the Guild of Lawyers busy for the duration of all our\r\nlives."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUSINESS FOR THE LAWYERS ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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"Ruth's Marriage in Mars: A Scientific Novel"

'Glass, Charles Wilder, Mrs.'

b"\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Ruth's Marriage in Mars: A Scientific Novel\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Ruth's Marriage in Mars: A Scientific Novel\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Mrs. Charles Wilder Glass\r\n\r\nRelease date: January 8, 2018 [eBook #56338]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading\r\n Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from\r\n images generously made available by The Internet Archive)\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUTH'S MARRIAGE IN MARS: A SCIENTIFIC NOVEL ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading\r\nTeam at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from\r\nimages generously made available by The Internet Archive)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Image of Book Cover]\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: \xe2\x80\x9cAUTHORESS AND CHILD\xe2\x80\x9d]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Ruth\xe2\x80\x99s Marriage in Mars\r\n\r\n ----------\r\n\r\n A SCIENTIFIC NOVEL\r\n\r\n ----------\r\n\r\n BY\r\n MRS. CHARLES WILDER GLASS\r\n\r\n [Illustration: title page]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Copyright by\r\n MRS. CHARLES WILDER GLASS\r\n 1912\r\n\r\n ---\r\n\r\n Books sold at\r\n 856 West Fifty-seventh Street\r\n Los Angeles, Cal.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n DEDICATION.\r\n\r\n\r\nIt gives me great pleasure to dedicate this book to all my readers. I\r\nalso dedicate it to my dear father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. L. R.\r\nPerkins. To my two brothers and three sweet, lovely sisters; to my dear\r\nfriends Dr. Willard P. Burke and his brother, Dr. Benjamin Franklin\r\nBurke and his only son, Willard Franklin Burke, and only daughter,\r\nMillie Burke. To my husband, Charles Wilder Glass, and to my only child,\r\nJennie May Glass. All these dear souls have been a great comfort and\r\nblessing to me. In my darkest hours they have thrown their sacred\r\ninfluence around me. I dearly love all these and many hundreds of\r\nothers. I wish I could express in this little book my love for all\r\nhumanity. May my daughter be as great a blessing to the world as she is\r\nto her father and mother. My earnest prayer is,\r\n\r\n May God protect her,\r\n Love be true to her,\r\n Joy draw near to her,\r\n Home a joy to her,\r\n Health stay close to her,\r\n Life be dear to her.\r\n Wealth find what you can do for her;\r\n Search your treasure house thro and thro for her.\r\n May God and His dear angels, and our loving\r\n Saviour guide her steps forever, is my prayer.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PREFACE.\r\n\r\n\r\nI am a Catholic-Psychic, and believe in the Holy Catholic Church, the\r\ncommunion of Saints (this is a fact to me for I have often seen my\r\nsaints and heard them), the forgiveness of all sins, the resurrection of\r\nthe body and life everlasting. I write this little book to prove man an\r\nimmortal being, to comfort all those that suffer. My saints have proven\r\nto me there is no death. I long to prove this to my dear readers, for it\r\nis a fact. May this little book always be a comfort and blessing to you.\r\nMay all my dear readers have this same beautiful experience; all learn\r\nfor themselves life is immortal, life is beautiful. Please earnestly\r\ninvestigate and find this fact out for yourselves\xe2\x80\x94I did. If you will go\r\ninto the silence every other night and pray, then be calm, very quiet,\r\nrelax the mind and body, in a short time you will see or hear, or feel\r\nsome of your loved ones, as I have seen and heard them. After you have\r\nheard these sweet heavenly voices, or have seen the dear faces of your\r\nloved ones, please tell the world these beautiful facts, as our sweet\r\nsaint Jeanne d\xe2\x80\x99Arc did; we can all write and teach facts now without\r\nbeing burned alive. \xe2\x80\x9cAs freely as ye receive freely give.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nDear readers, this little romance is founded on facts. All journeys to\r\nother stars are true. The names are fictitious. The gist of this story\r\nis all true. It is wicked to write a lie, even in a novel. This book is\r\nwritten to inspire more love for each other. May we all love one another\r\nmore, comfort others as our Saviour and His angels have loved us. As you\r\nread this book please remember I love you all dearly. God rules and\r\nwatches over you; He sends your loved ones to comfort and protect you.\r\nPlease try to always bear this in mind, and may you always be happy and\r\ncontented. If you wish to develope your souls, and keep in harmony with\r\nGod, you must keep sweet, cheerful, prayerful, and love one another.\r\nLove, Divine love, is the secret of salvation. So pray for love, peace\r\nand happiness.\r\n\r\n THE AUTHOR.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER I.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x99Tis heaven alone that is given away;\r\n \xe2\x80\x99Tis only God may be had for the asking.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x94Lowell.\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was a lovely twilight evening at Lytton Springs, India. These famous\r\nsprings were very high up in the Araville hills; Mandavee was the\r\nnearest city, situated on a small island in the Arabian sea. The great\r\nred sun was slowly sinking as the bells were ringing the Angelus from an\r\nancient Hindoo temple. The sacred chimes pealed forth melodiously, the\r\nsweet sounds echoing forth the harmony of those bells. Inside of this\r\nancient temple sweet incense was burning on a beautiful golden altar. A\r\ndark, handsome prince and his family were praying around this sacred\r\naltar. Here they would often see beautiful visions of angels and their\r\nloved ones who had died in this same faith years ago. This faith was a\r\nstrange, mysterious, mythical religion, handed down from the ancient\r\nIndians. It was a mixture of Catholicism and Hindooism. The Prince and\r\nhis family were highly educated and great musicians; they were all great\r\nPsychics, and often spent hours in this old temple praying. They lived\r\nin constant communion with their saints, who constantly watched over\r\nthem and protected them. At the other side of this altar a strange\r\nveiled princess was silently praying. After sunset they all left the\r\ntemple with bowed heads. They went to their summer homes in the hills.\r\nSita, the Prince\xe2\x80\x99s only daughter, felt sorry for the lonely stranger and\r\ninvited her to their lovely home in the mountains.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMay I ask the name of my lovely hostess?\xe2\x80\x9d asked the lonely stranger.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy name is Sita, dear. My father is Prince Cresto. We spend our summers\r\nhere in these lovely mountains. Won\xe2\x80\x99t you please come home and spend the\r\nevening with us?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI, too, am a princess from Southern Egypt. My name is Princess Kezia.\r\nIf you love me, just call me Kez for short.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI fell in love with you at first sight, Kez. Please come and dine with\r\nus this evening. Come just as you are!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI will, dear Sita, for the hotel seems so far away. Sita, what a dear,\r\nlovely home you have way up here in the hills.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cFather and mother, this is Princess Kezia. Kez, this is my father,\r\nPrince Cresto, and my mother, Princess Mara; this other young gentleman\r\nis my brother Persus; he has just graduated at Delhi as M. D., and now\r\nhas charge of a large sanitarium here at Lytton Springs. Kez, he is also\r\na mental healer and many come just to get well mentally. He has great\r\nsuccess in healing the body through the mind. He and my father have a\r\nlarge class at the sanitarium just to develope the soul.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoctor,\xe2\x80\x9d said Princess Kezia, \xe2\x80\x9cI would love to join your class. I came\r\nto these hills just to develope the soul.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPrincess Kezia,\xe2\x80\x9d said the doctor, \xe2\x80\x9cwe have a small class to meet here\r\nin our library tonight\xe2\x80\x94some are here now. I will let you sit here in\r\nthis big easy chair close to my own, so you will not be afraid.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIn a few minutes the large library was filled with lovely, refined,\r\nhighly educated people. The library was lighted up with many candles,\r\nheld in lovely gold candlesticks. These lovely gold ornaments were\r\nhanded down from one generation to the other.\r\n\r\nThese dear friends formed a circle with their chairs. They held each\r\nother\xe2\x80\x99s hands, and sang and prayed, then all were silent for a few\r\nminutes. Suddenly there were many strange lights, the lights looked like\r\nstars; some had many colors. One light near the doctor and I was a soft\r\nblue, another red, another yellow. The blue light came close to me and\r\ngrew larger and larger. I saw in this wonderful light a lovely angel,\r\nall in white. By this time my fear had left me. I looked up and asked\r\nher name.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy name is Hope, dear Kezia, I have been with you for years. Always\r\nloving and protecting you. It was I that influenced your mind to come\r\nhere, just so your band of angels could develope you. Kezia, dear, are\r\nyou willing that we should?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Hope, I am very anxious.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn order to learn we must study hard, and get in perfect harmony with\r\nour Father, who is all mind. We get into harmony by work, by prayer, and\r\ndoing His Divine will. Prayer without works is in vain. Great love to\r\nothers brings great reward. My dear, keep very busy and cheerful. Take\r\nbetter care of your health; illness, melancholy, and idleness is the\r\ncause of most crime, sorrow and suicide. All rich should hire more help,\r\nstudy more, encourage universal farming\xe2\x80\x94farming is a beautiful art. A\r\nlovely home on a perfect little farm is heaven on earth. Kezia, dear\r\nchild, I must let others talk now. Try to remember every word that is\r\ntaught in class by these dear angels.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAnother bright angel of light spoke next. He was a tall gentleman, over\r\nsix foot, wearing long flowing robes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDear friends, all honest work is beautiful and elevating. We should\r\nencourage and uplift all work. In Venus, where I live, farming is the\r\nmost popular art; a farmer is just as good as his banker, he should be\r\ntreated so by all classes. All farmers should be highly educated, and go\r\ninto the very best society. In all higher planets, farmers are the\r\naristocrats; they are all true Christians and live up to the Golden\r\nRule. In seeking real happiness we must first realize we are all one\r\nuniversal family; all part of God, all made in the image of God. We are\r\nall Divine, as long as we keep in harmony with Our Father. We must say,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thy will be done,\xe2\x80\x99 before we are His children. We can\xe2\x80\x99t live without\r\nHim. It is getting late and you all need sleep. We will repeat the\r\nLord\xe2\x80\x99s prayer and retire.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPrincess Mara put her arms around Kezia and invited her to stay all\r\nnight. \xe2\x80\x9cKez, you may sleep with my daughter, so you will not get\r\nnervous.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nSita and I slept soundly until sunrise.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER II.\r\n\r\n\r\n All God\xe2\x80\x99s angels will say, \xe2\x80\x9cWell done!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n Whenever thy mortal race is run.\r\n White and forgiven,\r\n Thou\xe2\x80\x99lt enter heaven\r\n And pass, unchallenged, the Golden Gate,\r\n Where welcoming spirits watch and wait\r\n To hail thy coming with sweet accord\r\n To the Holy City of God the Lord.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe next morning I heard these words sung by the family in the library\r\ndownstairs. I heard Prince Cresto\xe2\x80\x99s rich tenor above the rest. They kept\r\non singing in perfect harmony as I went down stairs. The doctor met me\r\nin the big hall and invited me in to family prayers at sunrise. After\r\nthis sacred service was over, I said good bye to my new friends and\r\nwalked quickly to my room at the hotel. I promised Dr. Persus to go back\r\nthe next evening to another class.\r\n\r\nI spent most of that day roaming those lovely Araville hills, and\r\npraying in the old temple.\r\n\r\nTwilight found me again at the home of Princess Mara. This lovely mother\r\nwas very tall and dark, also having dark brown hair. As I entered the\r\ndoor she held out both slender hands to welcome me. Prince Cresto and\r\nshe invited me to stay with them as their guest that summer. After\r\nstudying the matter over I consented. Sita called us all to supper. I\r\nwas surprised at this simple repast; dates, nuts and grape juice was all\r\nthat was served. This was served on a lovely hardwood table inlaid with\r\npearls and white ivory. A lovely large butterfly was carved in the\r\ncenter of this expensive old table; the butterfly was made of pure gold\r\nand silver, all filigreed in this beautiful hardwood. The eyes of this\r\nwonderful golden butterfly were two bright red rubies. My surprise and\r\ndelight was great happiness to me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoctor, what a beautiful and wonderful butterfly!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Princess Kezia, we had it inlaid there, for it is an emblem of\r\nimmortality.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe only eat a light supper, so we can develope our souls. We could not\r\nsee clairvoyantly if we ate too much. We only eat two meals a day,\r\nmorning and evening. Instead of eating at noon we rest and pray, as they\r\ndid of old.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAfter supper was over the doctor offered me his arm and we all went to\r\nclass again. It was about the same as the night before; only there was\r\nmore music, and the angels sang with us, and their sweet voices were so\r\nperfect that for a moment I thought I was in heaven. O! such music there\r\namong the flowers and trees, by the hillside! Their sweet voices sang in\r\nharmony with the beautiful pale, golden moonlight. No sunlight was ever\r\nso beautiful as this to me! After the music had ceased we were all\r\nsilent again. Prince Cresto\xe2\x80\x99s guardian angel spoke tonight. His name was\r\nEno, and he came from Neptune. Eno was over six feet in height; he had\r\nlarge, soulful blue eyes, and light brown hair. His hair was heavy and\r\nwavy and seemed about two inches in length; it was parted on the left\r\nside, just as he used to wear it in earth-life.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy dear brothers and sisters, I was the poor priest that laid the\r\ncorner stone to your temple,\xe2\x80\x9d he said. \xe2\x80\x9cI was killed in a war\xe2\x80\x94religious\r\nwar\xe2\x80\x94against the Jews. We never think of war now, we know it is a sin to\r\neven think a wrong. We just love one another and are perfectly happy. In\r\nNeptune we teach all how to be happy. Our first duty there is to love\r\none another and be happy. We have great, broad and massive temples there\r\nto worship the Lord and His Holy Angels in. On Sabbath we all pray and\r\nsing the same as you do here. There all practice just what they preach.\r\nIn Neptune our sermons and prayers are very short and our songs very\r\nlong. The hymns at first would remind you of a grand opera, only a great\r\ndeal nicer. All their splendid sweet voices have been trained for years\r\nand years before they can sing in those wonderful temples. Even in\r\nNeptune we find talent is only the result of hard work. All learn to\r\nsing there sooner or later.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIn all the country towns there are many smaller temples where all sing\r\nlovely. It is at the capitol where these glorious songs are heard. All\r\ncan go to hear them if they wish; church music is always free to all.\r\nOur church doors are never closed. It is selfish to close them. In many\r\nof the other stars we teach God is immortal and independent without us.\r\nGod can destroy all that He has created, and live on forever and ever\r\nwithout us. Hence we should be grateful, prayerful, humble, and\r\nChristlike, and always happy in serving God. We should place great value\r\non our physical bodies, for it is the temple of our souls. If our bodies\r\nare perfect, it is easy to get in perfect harmony with our Creator. Life\r\nshould be all ecstacy! Life is beautiful on earth or any other planet. I\r\nenjoy life with all my soul\xe2\x80\x94we all should.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat a divine privilege of having the sweet pleasure of loving all\r\nhumanity as our dear Saviour did. I know He loves us now more than ever.\r\nHow beautiful to know He still loves us. As we love our Father He loves\r\nus. You and I know there is no death. I know I was once your priest; now\r\nI am your servant from another star. I only come back to help and serve.\r\nI will give you a few plans to lay up treasures in heaven, and give you\r\ngreater happiness here. It is more beautiful to adopt children instead\r\nof dogs, cats, and monkeys. They can hunt their living in the woods, our\r\ndear little ones are helpless. Each little orphan has hundreds of good\r\nintelligent souls from heaven to guide it. Angels protect you a thousand\r\nfold as soon as you adopt a helpless child. Our Saviour said, \xe2\x80\x98Feed my\r\nsheep, if one little lamb is an outcast or lost on the rugged hillside,\r\nlet the other ninety and nine run quickly to save it.\xe2\x80\x99 Here we fly\r\nquickly to save a lost soul. It is Christlike and generous to adopt a\r\nlame or blind child. Love is all there is in life. Universal love and\r\neducation will make heaven on earth the same as it does in other stars.\r\nYou need more schools. Your churches and halls should be used for free\r\nschools, day and night, and only used for religious services Saturday\r\nand Sunday. All should have a chance to be highly educated. I would not\r\nhave been killed if the soldiers at that time had been highly educated;\r\nthey enjoyed killing me by inches with their cruel swords. I thought\r\ndeath would never come. Lovely, intelligent angels took me home to peace\r\nand happiness. I never have suffered since and never will, for now I\r\nlive in a land of immortal love and sunshine. I beg you earnestly to\r\nteach and preach love. All your parks should be used for kindergartens\r\nand rest. Let all children rest more, and study more, and swim more.\r\nGood night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER III.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cSome god hath cast me forth upon this land,\r\n And O, what land? So thick is the sea mist.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\nThe next morning Princess Kezia was up before sunrise. She dressed\r\nquickly so she would have time to pray all alone in the dear old temple\r\nbefore the others were up. On the way up the hill she accidentally met\r\nthe doctor going in the same direction.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPrincess Kezia, I was just going to the temple to pray also.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoctor, how did you know I was going there?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI can read your thoughts, Kezia. Could you guess what my prayer could\r\nbe?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, Doctor, I am sorry that I am unable to read your thoughts.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome, and I will tell you on the way. I was going to pray that you\r\nwould be my wife, all my very own, forever. Do you love me well enough\r\nto marry me within a month? I could not stand to have you leave me now.\r\nMy darling, I loved you the first time I ever saw your sweet face. Dear,\r\nyou are different from others, so fair and light. You are all love and\r\nsunshine. Most girls I know are dark and all alike, you are different.\r\nHave I the power to make you happy, dear? Will you marry me soon? I want\r\nto own you as quickly as possible. Answer me please?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoctor, I love you dearly. It is so strange I loved you too the first\r\ntime I ever saw you. I have been afraid some one would guess my secret.\r\nFor fear some one would read my very heart I was going to pack up and\r\nleave for my home in Southern Egypt. My poor old parents live in\r\nPibeseth, an old city of Bastel. My folks live a few miles from the city\r\non a dear, lovely little farm, all fenced in. My mother is small and\r\ndark, and was, when a girl, very beautiful. My mother was a beautiful\r\ndark Indian princess. My father was a tall, light complexioned, Egyptian\r\nking. I look like my father.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, dear, but you haven\xe2\x80\x99t given me my answer yet?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoctor, we will be married as soon as you say. So I will do all in my\r\npower to make you happy.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs they stepped inside of the church, he held her passionately to his\r\nheart. As they walked to the altar he kissed her a thousand times at\r\nleast. They both bowed their heads in silent prayer and gratitude for\r\nsuch perfect love and happiness. In looking up they saw Hope (Kezia\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nlovely angel), holding out her little white arms, blessing them.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, dear Kezia, do you see why we brought you here? God has made you\r\nfor each other. You are both one. After death you will meet again never\r\nto be parted.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe Doctor took off a beautiful ring from his little finger and gave it\r\nto the Princess.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSweetheart, this ring my mother gave me when I graduated at Delhi. You\r\nmay call it your engagement ring, if you will?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nHope kissed the ring and kissed her brow as the Doctor placed it on her\r\nfinger.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! what joy, what heaven, to be kissed by an angel like Hope; and to be\r\nalways loved by such a gentleman as the Doctor. Hope, dear, your sweet\r\nlips feel just like a real mortal. Why not?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI am more real than you are. I am more alive than you are, as I am in\r\nperfect health and I am immortal. I ask you both to continue praying in\r\nthe temple for a few hours without any food. Tonight we want to take you\r\nto Rome, Paris, and Monte Carlo. If you don\xe2\x80\x99t eat much your soul can\r\ntravel at will after you are well developed. I will guide you on the way\r\nand teach your soul how much missionary work is yet to be done on earth.\r\nGood bye, dear children, you will see me again tonight. If you can\xe2\x80\x99t see\r\nme you will know that I am with you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAfter prayers the Doctor took Kezia home, and announced their engagement\r\nto his folks. They all received her with open arms as one of their very\r\nown.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO, Kezia, I am so glad you are my very own sister now. I always wanted\r\na sister to boss, and do as I pleased with, and you just fill the bill.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThat night all the household retired to rest peacefully. That night two\r\nhearts were overflowing with love and happiness.\r\n\r\nKezia took Sita in her arms and kissed her fondly. The two lovely girls\r\nwent to sleep with a new sweet smile on their pretty young faces.\r\n\r\nSoon Kezia\xe2\x80\x99s soul seemed to be free, floating away in space. We visited\r\nthe Pope of Rome first. He was on his knees talking to his saints in\r\nsweet love and harmony. We soon knew that he saw all of us\r\nclairvoyantly. Part of His Holy saints joined with us. We soon saw the\r\nbright lights of gay Paris below us. Down, down, we went into the very\r\nheart of the city. The first sounds that reached our ears were the\r\nprayers of the poor and broken hearted. We saw the old and young begging\r\nin the streets at midnight. They begged from those that were dressed in\r\nthe latest fashion. I never saw such lovely clothes, and so many bright\r\ncolors in the moonlight. Those clad in rags had more light in their\r\nsouls than the rich that would now and then toss them a copper, just to\r\nmake a display in the eyes of their mistresses. Many poor, cold, hungry,\r\nsuffering creatures had no beds to get a moment\xe2\x80\x99s rest on. Many were\r\nnever inside of a real home. The misery was awful! When we could not\r\nstand it any longer we went to Florence, Italy; there the suffering\r\nseemed about the same. Here we found great wealth and great poverty and\r\nsuffering. Wherever we find great wealth we found great poverty. Hope\r\nsaid our love for all souls prevents great poverty in other worlds. Our\r\ngreat schools of industry prevents poverty. We are taught to give the\r\nlaborer all he earns; each has all he can earn, all are paid in checks\r\nand no money is ever used.\r\n\r\nWe soon went to Monte Carlo. We saw many men and women gamble for money,\r\nas they smoked around the tables. We could see they were money mad. Many\r\nlost great fortunes that night; many won. We noticed one short, dark,\r\nlittle woman they called Lena, win every cent a light, tall blonde had;\r\nthey called him Alo Lamar. He offered her his hand and smiled. We could\r\nread his thoughts and knew the reason. She invited him to her room a few\r\nblocks away. He began to make love to her for her money only. She coaxed\r\nhim to write a short note to his mistress, Ada, telling her he had left\r\nher forever. Soon they were both sound asleep, drunk. As we watched\r\nthem, our souls could read their thoughts, which were awful. We could\r\nsee very little light around them; this proves their souls were\r\nundeveloped. The man called Alo Lamar soon awoke, staggered a moment,\r\nthen reached under the woman\xe2\x80\x99s pillow and took all her money and jewels,\r\nwent over to the table and took up the carving knife and killed her! He\r\ncovered her up, and with a cruel smile washed his hands and surveyed\r\nhimself in the glass. There were no stains of blood on his clothes. He\r\nsmiled, locked the door and went out into the darkness. We saw angels\r\nnear him recording every act he did; we also saw fiends grabbing Lena\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndark soul and dragging her down, down! Alo Lamar walked back to the\r\nbanks of Monte Carlo. He began playing cards madly. He lost every cent\r\nhe had stolen from his wicked mistress. He reached over the table, took\r\nup a revolver and blew out his brains; blew his very soul into eternity,\r\nall because he lost money. We all felt the shock from the awful shot! We\r\nsaw his dark soul go down, down! His astral form was much smaller now.\r\nAgain we saw awful wicked fiends drag him down to Purgatory. His mind\r\nwas absolutely insane now, and would be for years to come. If any one\r\nshoots their minds away it ruins the soul. This is a scientific fact,\r\nthe Doctor said.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPlease let\xe2\x80\x99s go home,\xe2\x80\x9d I cried, \xe2\x80\x9cI can\xe2\x80\x99t stand to see any more crimes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nOur angels at once took us up, up, on electric spiral waves; up we went\r\ninto the pure fresh air, up into the lovely soft moonlight, away from\r\nall darkness and crime.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! how lovely to float in space like this. O! Hope, my sweet saint, can\r\nthe dear angels in Mars, Neptune, Venus, Saturn and Jupiter float in\r\nsuch wild ecstacy as we do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAt this question they all laughed, their merry voices of silver filled\r\nthe air.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWhat is the matter, Doctor?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cJust look back of you and see!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI looked back, and saw two lovely angels, male and female, holding me up\r\nby a long, strong, silk sash that I had not noticed until now. They\r\nsmiled and said: \xe2\x80\x9cWe have carried you all the way.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIn all the higher planets they soon learn to float alone, as it takes\r\nsome people a long time to learn to swim, it takes some angels a long\r\ntime to learn to float. It was about dawn the next day when our angels\r\nleft us at our own home. I woke Sita up and told her all I had seen.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cKez, my darling, how strange! I had the very same sad experience.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAfter Sita and I had combed each other\xe2\x80\x99s hair we went down to breakfast.\r\nWhat a lovely sight met our eyes! The table was loaded with lovely fruit\r\nand beautiful flowers. A beautiful venetian gold filigree vase of lovely\r\ndark red roses was placed in front of the Doctor, and he took one of the\r\nperfect red buds and pinned it in my hair.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThis beautiful morning is the dawning of a perfect love for us, dear.\r\nAfter breakfast we will go for a long walk.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe had many kinds of fruit and nuts, and instead of grape juice, we\r\ndrank a cup of warm new milk. We saw the boy milk the cow at our door\r\nsteps as we began to eat breakfast; we knew the milk was pure.\r\n\r\nEverything tasted delicious. The longing for bread, cake and meat had\r\ngradually left me. I had to give up my old habits of eating candy and\r\nhot bread in order to see clairvoyantly.\r\n\r\nDoctor and I were soon walking alone in the mountains together, talking\r\nover our future life.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER IV.\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cKezia, my darling, we will sit here under this old juniper tree.\r\nDearest, I want to tell of my experience last night. My soul left the\r\nbody and traveled away; far away, down into darkness. I was taken to the\r\nunderworld in the very depths of Purgatory. Darling Kezia, there is no\r\neverlasting Hell, but this place was about the same. I talked with a\r\nlost soul, his name was Alo Lamar. I read the electric aura around his\r\nhead, and saw he had just killed a wicked, low, heartless, negro woman,\r\ncalled Lena Williams. Alo left his sick wife, Odal Lamar, in Rome,\r\nstarving; later he became a robber and bought and sold pure young girls,\r\nsome of their names I could read in his aura\xe2\x80\x94his aura was black. Lena\r\nand Alo Lamar had sold a poor girl called Minnie. Others named Ada,\r\nBertha, Fannie, Maud, and two named Georgia and Josephine, both were\r\ninsane now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! Persus darling, I dreamed I saw him kill Lena and then himself at\r\nMonte Carlo. My vision was awful!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cKezia, my poor little dove, your words prove all I saw was a fact. I\r\nsaw him judged by the severe courts of the underworld. The Priest who\r\nread his sentence wore long black sombre robes. This priest spoke in a\r\nsubdued, but deep, cold, stern undertone, his word was law there.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x98Alo Lamar, you and this low, Lena Williams, will be insane here for\r\nover one hundred years. Every day will seem a thousand years. After the\r\ntime expires you may both work your way out of here by degrees! No soul\r\nshall ever be permitted to love or help you two fiends in any way;\r\nduring this time neither you or that wicked woman shall ever see one ray\r\nof light. Come, black insane fiends, and obsess these cruel souls for\r\none hundred years and more! Dark spirits take these two low fools! Cast\r\nthem down into prison; bind them down with thorns and snakes!\xe2\x80\x99 I saw\r\nLena and Alo Lamar severely punished for selling the souls of sweet,\r\npure young girls.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cO, woman! woman! when to ill thy mind is bent,\r\n All hell contains no fouler fiend.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAlo Lamar and Lena had ruined the happiness of good women for years.\r\nWhy shouldn\xe2\x80\x99t they suffer all they caused others to suffer? Kezia\r\ndearest, it is only justice! They must reap as they have sown. Kezia, my\r\nlove, forgive me. You are pale and trembling like a leaf. We will talk\r\nof our wedding day, then you will be happy again.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy darling Persus, next Sunday we will be married.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy sweet Kezia, will you wear my mother\xe2\x80\x99s wedding veil? My mother asked\r\nme if you would honor her by wearing it. Will you, sweetheart?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy own darling Persus, I would love to wear it.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cLove, soon as we are married, we will work together for good, dear\r\nKezia, my pet, we are so happy together now, that we will devote all our\r\nlives in making others happy. We will prove our gratitude to God, by\r\nworking for Him. I love Him for He has joined our hearts together in\r\nperfect love and immortal happiness! It is a pleasure to serve Him with\r\nyou by my side. May God help us to love others more; the world craves\r\nit. Above all things we need now is universal love. Sincere brotherly\r\nlove.\r\n\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cThe soul that loves, forever sings,\r\n And feels as light as though it had wings;\r\n The heart that trusts, forever prays,\r\n A well of peace within it springs.\r\n Come good or ill,\r\n Whatever today, tomorrow brings,\r\n It is His will.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cKezia, my own darling, promise me that you will be brave, if we are\r\never parted, will you little sweetheart?\xe2\x80\x9d We Indians are taught from\r\nchildhood never to fear death. \xe2\x80\x98Death is better than one\xe2\x80\x99s birth. If we\r\nare true, good, sincere Catholics.\xe2\x80\x99 Remember, pet, our love will live\r\nbeyond the grave. Love is life. \xe2\x80\x98God is love.\xe2\x80\x99 Love is all there is in\r\nlife, little girl.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPersus, darling, how lovely and perfect the world is to us. If we\r\nshould be parted now, it would kill me. Doctor, I love you fondly. I\r\nworship you madly.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy own Kezia, little sweetheart, I love you more than you do me; I will\r\nalways adore you with all my heart and soul. Long before I saw you, I\r\noften dreamed you were my wife, my only love, some times we were picking\r\nbeautiful flowers on the hillside; sometimes I would see you in a lovely\r\nhome playing with my children. My only love, will all those dear dreams\r\never come true? Pet, I know in Heaven these dreams will all come true,\r\nif our prayers are not answered here, God will answer them just over\r\nthere. My little dove, I will love you through all eternity. I worship\r\nyou, Kezia! My life, my love, my one idol! My only happiness.\r\nSweetheart, I wish every one was as rich and happy as we are now, dear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER V.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cThe king then asked, as yet the camp he viewed,\r\n What prince is that, with giant strength endued;\r\n Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling chest,\r\n And lofty stature, far exceed the rest.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\nThe king of Rajpootana, was a tall, broad shouldered, ugly Indian. He\r\nwas black as night, and had heavy, short, straight, black hair; his eyes\r\nwere black and piercing. Any one would fear him as soon as they looked\r\ninto those wicked, fiery eyes. He had eyes of a demon, his face was\r\nlarge, broad and brutal. He seemed to be a great, strong, powerful\r\nanimal without a soul. This wicked king owned a great palace in the\r\nnorthern part of the Araville mountains. He ruled over a large tribe of\r\nfighting Indians, who did just as their king commanded. One of his\r\nfavorite spies told him of a rich prince who owned a large gold mine,\r\nthe richest he ever saw. The king was wild with delight and gave his spy\r\na new sword, and many lovely jewels. King Pootana soon armed his tribe,\r\nthen moved south to capture this rich mine. The king accumulated all his\r\nwealth by stealing from other kings. The drums were beating weirdly, as\r\nthe dusky tribe moved stealthily down the mountain side, hiding safely\r\nnow and then in the deep, thick, dark, dense forest which was the home\r\nof many kinds of poisonous reptiles. The wicked spy led his king\xe2\x80\x99s tribe\r\nsafely up the hillside until they came in sight of the old dome on the\r\ntemple, then they crawled on their hands and knees for miles for fear of\r\nbeing detected. They crawled safely among the trees up to Lytton\r\nSprings. Here they rested awhile in the forest.\r\n\r\nHigher up in the mountains a Hindoo ceremony was being performed by\r\nTerah, the high priest. Two young priests who graduated at Delhi the\r\nsame time the Doctor did, assisted in the ceremony. One had a temple at\r\nEllora, the other at Loodiana, two large cities in India. The old temple\r\nwas decorated with gorgeous tropical flowers. The altar was one massive\r\nbank of red and white roses. The bride and her maids carried large\r\nbouquets of lillies of the valley. Kezia wore long white silk robes, the\r\nsash embroidered with lillies of the valley. She wore Princess Mara\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nwedding veil, also a long string of large pink pearls that Prince Cresto\r\ngave her at the ceremony. A slave carried a large casket of precious\r\njewels for the bride. The guests were all of high caste. All were merry,\r\ncongratulating the bride and kissing her. The gentlemen were throwing\r\nlovely buds and flowers at the happy couple. The high priest, Terah, is\r\ntelling of his secret marriage when he was a young priest in\r\nNizagapatum, a lovely city on the Bay of Bengal:\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy dear old high priest saw in a vision that Sizuna was my soul mate,\r\nthat God had made us for each other. This ancient seer told me I would\r\nfind her in the province of Bengal, a mile south of the capital of\r\nCalcutta. He described her, told me her name, age and all about her\r\npeople. I went to the place and found it just as he foretold. All was\r\njust as he prophesied. Our King opposed the wedding, so we were married\r\nsecretly. We went to a small isle at the mouth of the Ganges. There were\r\nfour lovely little islands here. I took charge of a temple on the one\r\ncalled Sundeep; the names of the other three were Hattiah, Dakhin, and\r\nShaboz. I was the happiest priest in the world. We loved and served the\r\npeople day and night, never growing tired in doing good. We gave all our\r\nwealth to the poor in Calcutta and to our temple. She named our dear old\r\ntemple, \xe2\x80\x98The Temple of the Soul.\xe2\x80\x99 And it was in every sense of the word.\r\nYou, my dear children, could not believe the wonderful things that\r\nhappened there in our circle. In that lovely temple we had three large\r\ngolden symbols inlaid in our marble altar\xe2\x80\x94the cross, triangle and\r\ncircle; the circle representing God, the Universal Soul. India is the\r\nbirthplace of all religions\xe2\x80\x94the Eden\xe2\x80\x94the conjugal circle of soul. The\r\nsoul is everything to a true Hindoo. Some priests in India almost starve\r\nin order to develope the soul.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOne dark night Sizuna and I were praying in our lovely little home near\r\nthe temple, which was surrounded on all sides with grapes, fruit, lovely\r\nbirds and flowers, and was near the temple, when at midnight we heard an\r\nawful cry in the darkness, \xe2\x80\x98The waters! The waters!\xe2\x80\x99 A great cyclone\r\narose and rolled the sea over those four lovely isles, and a population\r\nof 340,000 to 350,000 people were drowned, only those being saved who\r\nhad climbed to the tops of the highest trees. Did you ever hear of such\r\nan awful cyclone? I pray God you may never see what we saw that awful\r\nblack night of sorrow. For hours I held Sizuna on the housetop. I kissed\r\nher cold, pale lips and soon saw she was dead. Cold and fear had killed\r\nher while she lay in my arms. I gave up, broken hearted, and sank in the\r\nwaters. When I came to the top again, two tall, lovely angels with light\r\naround their beautiful heads held me firmly out of the waters. They\r\nfloated me gently and lovingly to a tall tree. There I clung until the\r\nwaters receded into the sea. Every day since that sad night my twin\r\nsoul, Sizuna has been with me. I see her and hear her talk the same as\r\nshe did before the flood. I have always been true to this one sweet\r\nsoul\xe2\x80\x94my only love\xe2\x80\x94I never can love another.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAfter the sad story Prince Cresto and Princess Mara moved slowly up the\r\nisle and shook hands and shed tears of sympathy over his sad fate. Terah\r\nasked them to dry their eyes and be happy, for he could see his bride\r\nwith them now just as lovely, young and happy as our beautiful Kezia was\r\nthis moment. The Prince and stately Mara moved down to the door, and all\r\nthe guests started for home, where a great feast was all ready for them.\r\nPrince Cresto saw a tribe of enemies below. He closed the massive doors\r\nand kept the great crowd inside.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy poor brothers and sisters, keep close to me as you can, for a wicked\r\ntribe is here to kill us. I have a secret gold mine near here that in\r\nsome unknown way they have discovered. That casket of jewels with the\r\nothers we all have in our possession, will hire us a ship at Mandavee.\r\nRich Jews own many big ships there and will do anything for money. I\r\nwill direct you to a secret door in the rear where we all can escape.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThey all followed the prince to the door. The Doctor dashed away from\r\nhis folks to save the poor patients. Kezia ran after him, crying,\r\nsaying, \xe2\x80\x9cI will die with you! I would rather die than ever be parted\r\nfrom you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPootana\xe2\x80\x99s spy saw him and drew his bright new sword on the Doctor. The\r\nDoctor quickly caught his wrist and broke his arm in the struggle. Then\r\nran the blade through the wicked black heart of the Indian.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome quickly, Kezia dear, we must get to the Springs at once. Darling\r\nchild, why didn\xe2\x80\x99t you fly with father and mother, where you would be\r\nsafe from all danger? My wife, my love, forgive me for not going with\r\nyou while I could escape. I see it is wicked King Pootana and his fierce\r\ntribe, who worship the goddess Kali, otherwise known as Devi or Durga,\r\nthe Hindu goddess of destruction, and consort of Siva.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nPersus took the spy\xe2\x80\x99s new sword and ran to the head of the army, he and\r\nhis men killing one-third of the enemy\xe2\x80\x99s men. Devi whispered to Pootana\r\nto kill Persus and steal Kezia. King Pootana saw the lovely bride in the\r\ndistance and sent his men to capture her. She was caught and carried to\r\ntheir king, fainting as they took her. Persus fought like mad. Pootana\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmen outnumbered his ten to one. Pootana took lovely Kezia for his own\r\nbride. This cruel, ugly, black Indian held the fair Egyptian bride in\r\nhis arms, then told Persus he had won a sweet, handsome, white bride as\r\nwell as his father\xe2\x80\x99s gold. Persus was permitted to kiss Kezia good-bye.\r\nAs the young husband held his bride in his arms, he quickly reached for\r\nhis dagger\xe2\x80\x94he always carried one,\xe2\x80\x94and plunged it in Kezia\xe2\x80\x99s soft white\r\nbreast. She fell forward and died in her husband\xe2\x80\x99s arms without a\r\npain\xe2\x80\x94there was a wonderful poison on the dagger that killed instantly.\r\nDoctor Persus had discovered this strange poison in a flower of the\r\nforest. The king reached for the dagger\xe2\x80\x94not knowing it was poisoned\xe2\x80\x94and\r\nthe Doctor thrust it through his heart, the black king died at his feet.\r\nThe revengeful black god Siva and his Hindu goddess Kali now influenced\r\nthe minds of the rest of the king\xe2\x80\x99s tribe to take the Doctor prisoner.\r\nThe men obeyed Siva, also carried all the gold and jewels they could\r\nfind in his home away. Later the tribe marched with Persus to Mandavee.\r\nThe men gave the Prince of Mandavee part of the gold and jewels to put\r\nour poor Doctor in a narrow cell half filled with dirty water from the\r\nArabian sea,\xe2\x80\x94this was against the laws of India, all men had a right to\r\nprotect their family and property. Our poor, good, innocent Doctor was\r\ntaken a prisoner on his own land trying to protect his wife. Our forlorn\r\nDoctor was cold, ill and hungry; slaves would abuse him shamefully when\r\nhe would ask for food and water. Later Terah, the priest, came to the\r\nprison; he had walked all the way disguised as a slave. They cast him in\r\nthe same cell, or little dungeon, and then told the poor Hindu to starve\r\nto death with his master, not knowing he was a priest of high caste.\r\nTerah took from his breast a bag of dates and nuts and bottle of wine.\r\nPersus ate and drank a little, and handed it back to the dear, kind\r\npriest.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPersus, child, my guardian angel showed me clairvoyantly I would soon\r\nbe with my twin-soul. I will tell you the vision as I, an old man, saw\r\nit. As I lingered a moment by the altar of roses, I saw my own long lost\r\nbride in all her pure white robes, her lovely flowers and long white\r\nlace veil, standing by my side, with her beautiful pink and white arms\r\nfull of pure fragrant lillies. My bride pictured me on a bier near the\r\naltar. She scattered all her sweet flowers on my shrouded, then held up\r\na wonderful jeweled crown over a pure gold cross; then again showed me\r\nclairvoyantly, a big sheet of black samite on which was written in white\r\nletters showing plainly on the black, \xe2\x80\x98Go quickly to Mandavee!\xe2\x80\x99 The\r\nletters vanished, then I saw, on the black sheet, yourself, on the right\r\nhand of you I saw your Kezia in her bridal robes beckoning me to come to\r\nyou. I saw my own wife put her arms around your bride and smile. I knew\r\nat once they were together on the astral plane. Doctor, did she die\r\npeacefully?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, dear father, I killed her without a pain. The Bloody Black King\r\ntook her for his own. I implored to just let me kiss her good bye. To my\r\nsurprise he did. I killed them both rather than see her live a life of\r\nshame and constant misery. I could not live and know that she would be\r\nhis slave, then in her old age be killed by inches.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou did right to kill them both; for God made man to protect woman, if\r\nit is just\xe2\x80\x94in your case it was, it was just!\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPersus, my child, I came here eagerly to save your life. In three days\r\nI will die, for it is my time to go. I heard a voice tell me so. They\r\ntold me the same again and again. I know it is true. As soon as I am\r\ndead your band will put you in a deep trance. They will think we are\r\nboth dead and put us in one big bag, then throw us together into the\r\nArabian sea. You may have my cross and gold. Your angels will take you\r\nout of this trance while in the sea; an old fisherman by the seashore\r\nwill take you to his home, if you make the sign of the cross; then press\r\nhis hand three times, firmly.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe Doctor waited three days and every hour was heaven to them both;\r\nthey learned so much together. Our dear old seer died just the hour he\r\nsaid he would. Persus got his money, dagger and clothes. Then a little\r\nlater he heard footsteps in the hall and at the same time felt himself\r\nsinking into a trance. He found the old fisherman by the seashore Persus\r\nwent home with him. Many weary days he spent with the good old seaman\r\nrecovering from the sickness of the dungeon. Then he went back to the\r\nnoble Prince of Mandavee and proved his innocence. The good prince of\r\nMandavee took his tribe up the hills of Araville. Persus recaptured his\r\nfather\xe2\x80\x99s rich mineral possession and gave the prince half of all he had.\r\nThe Doctor became a famous author, and died a priest in the very temple\r\nwhere he was married. Many hundred years have passed and still his books\r\nare read all over the world. The story of Persus has taught the world\r\nthat many innocent souls have been cast into prison for the sake of\r\ntheir money, then shamefully abused. It is a terrible, cowardly crime to\r\nabuse a person deprived of their liberty. If we wrong or abuse others,\r\nGod will punish us severely later. How beautiful it is to treat humanity\r\nlovingly and tenderly at all times. Prince Cresto, with his wife and\r\ndaughter, met the remainder of his own tribe that escaped from Lytton\r\nSprings. The Black King had killed most of Prince Cresto\xe2\x80\x99s men. After\r\nexperiencing great difficulties we managed to get to Mandavee, then\r\nhired a big ship and set out to sea. That night the ship sailed\r\nslowly\xe2\x80\x94sailed away from all that was dear to them. They left sunny old\r\nIndia with broken hearts. Their lives would never be safe there after\r\nthey discovered the gold mine. Big fish eat up the little ones on the\r\nhills of India; one king robs the other. There is no such thing as the\r\nequality of man there. After a long voyage they rested a few months at\r\nthe Philippines. They formed classes and taught their religion. Most of\r\nthe natives believed the same as they did. Later they bought the old\r\nship from the cold-hearted Jew. One man owned as much of the boat as the\r\nother did; they were all one family and shared alike. Poor Princess Mara\r\nand Sita had charge of the casket, and all the valuable jewels, only\r\nhalf of the jewels had been sold. They left the Jew and his crew on the\r\nisland and set sail again. The old ship seemed like home then for it was\r\ntheir very own. In a few weeks they came to a narrow neck of land,\xe2\x80\x94that\r\nwhich joins the two Americas,\xe2\x80\x94which was pierced by a narrow strait of\r\nwater. The two massive rocks that towered above them on either side as\r\nthey passed through made them feel how infinite God was and how finite\r\nman. Scarcely had they passed through safely when a sound deafened them;\r\na noise like a peal of thunder rent the air. The ship trembled like an\r\naspen leaf from prow to stern. They looked back. The mighty rocks had\r\nclashed together and filled the strait of water with rocks and gravel.\r\nThey bowed their heads and thanked God for His love and protection. They\r\nsailed on to the Gulf of Mexico and entered the harbor of New Orleans.\r\nIt was so low there, they left and sailed up the Mississippi river, then\r\nup the Escawtawpa. Here they sailed into a raft of logs; the old boat\r\nwas wrecked, every person sank in an awful storm, excepting two young\r\nslaves of the tribe. They have handed this story down from one tribe to\r\nanother\xe2\x80\x94from father to son to this day.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VI.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cAnd God will make divinely real\r\n The highest forms of their ideal.\xe2\x80\x9d\xe2\x80\x94Chapin.\r\n\r\n\r\nRuth was a lovely, tall, dark-eyed, Southern girl. Her family and most\r\nintimate friends called her Dolly. She had heavy, light brown, long,\r\ncurly hair, that hung below her waist in six perfect curls. Doll was\r\nvery slender and graceful, her mouth a perfect cupid\xe2\x80\x99s bow, her head\r\nwell poised, and small. Her most charming feature was her large,\r\nwonderful, soft brown eyes. Everyone loved those lovely eyes. The soul\r\nseemed to express her thoughts, and yearnings through those eyes. Ruth\r\nwas a lovely Christian and inherited her mother\xe2\x80\x99s sweet, cheerful, sunny\r\ndisposition. She also was an exquisite violinist, and could paint,\r\nsketch and cook. Our heroine is just sweet sixteen. Ruth is sitting by a\r\nbig window watching an awful southern storm rising from the Gulf of\r\nMexico. She and her young companion, Cathy de Bathe had been dear\r\nfriends and schoolmates. The girls were now visiting Ruth\xe2\x80\x99s grand\r\nparents in Mississippi. It had been raining for days in Escawtawpa,\xe2\x80\x94a\r\nsmall country town on the Escawtawpa river. The Indians and darkies\r\ncalled this strange river haunted; this is a fact too. Every night weird\r\nmusic came from the river bed. The ghostly musicians had chosen the\r\nlarge hollow reeds for their musical instruments. It sounded as if they\r\nwere practicing the scales on a golden, magical, flute. This weird music\r\nwould often end at sunrise in a low, sad funeral dirge. People came from\r\nall over the world and hired darkies to row them out at night to hear\r\nand investigate these strange magical sounds. The music became more\r\nweird and much louder about midnight. Ruth and Cathy often wondered if\r\nthe river was truly haunted.\r\n\r\nOne calm, beautiful night, while she was sleeping soundly, Ruth dreamed\r\nher soul was transported to another world. She dreamed this beautiful\r\nworld was Mars. It was a world of love and romance instead of war. The\r\ndream seemed real as life. At first she was surprised to find herself\r\ncarried as if by magic so quickly and safely through space to this\r\nlovely new world,\xe2\x80\x94it seemed like a lover\xe2\x80\x99s paradise. This strange new\r\nworld was the world of the soul. Ruth wondered how she came there. As\r\nshe looked around she saw a tall, dark, handsome young stranger, who\r\nspoke, smiled, and bowed to poor little surprised Ruth. He was very\r\ncourteous and gently told her that once, he was an ancient Indian\r\nprince. He said an old Indian living near her grandfather\xe2\x80\x99s home would\r\ntell her the same truth, and this would prove that all he said was true,\r\nand no dream at all. \xe2\x80\x9cRemember, Ruth, many dreams are true and real\xe2\x80\x94soul\r\nfacts. A wicked Black King drove us away from India many years ago and\r\ncaptured my son with his lovely bride, and took all our wealth except a\r\nfew jewels. Mara was then my princess yet did not belong to me, and is\r\nnow happy with her twin soul. They are now wealthy and live in Neptune.\r\nWe made a mistake then, as many do now in marrying the person not\r\nintended for us. In India we taught the immortality of the soul. This\r\nwicked and powerful King Pootana did not believe in the Communion of\r\nSaints or would not permit it to be taught, if he could help it. We\r\ntaught one God, one love, one wife; he had many wives in those days. He\r\nkilled good priests. His soul now suffers in Purgatory, and will for\r\nsome time. My tribe and myself were drowned in a terrible storm on the\r\nriver Escawtawpa.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! Prince Cresto, an old negro we call Aunt Mary told grandma this same\r\nstory. She said it was all true, but we all laughed at her. Is it a real\r\nfact?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, child. I can remember the storm, and the rain pouring down on us,\r\nhow terrible it seems now. The old raft sank slowly down, down, to our\r\ndeath. On that very spot where our ship sank these magical reeds grew.\r\nIn love and immortal sympathy and pity they sway, they sing their sad\r\ndoleful hymns. These musical sounds are the sobs and groans of a great\r\ntribe mourning for their Prince and loved ones.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI have often dreamed of you, Prince Cresto, and now I see you face to\r\nface. Are you truly alive?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I am a real live man; asking you if you would like to visit some\r\nof the scenes and wonderful sights in Mars, would you, Ruth?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI would love to!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nCresto (they have no titles in Mars) sent a mental wireless message, and\r\nsoon a boy came with a lovely little airship called \xe2\x80\x9cThe Golden\r\nButterfly.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOh! how lovely! We are sailing far above the Martians,\xe2\x80\x9d Ruth cried. The\r\nair was pure and bracing, the ride very exhilarating. They descended\r\nslowly\xe2\x80\x94for Ruth was afraid to descend; the lovely little airship\r\nalighted in a public park. Many little children were playing here. She\r\nsaw lovers strolling down the walks in perfect peace and happiness.\r\nThere were lovely beds of flowers everywhere. They soon came to a\r\nbeautiful blue lake. On this lake they saw pretty, tiny boats with large\r\nwhite swans, beautifully carved, in front. These little boats, at a\r\ndistance, looked like graceful, white swans; couples that row in these\r\nboats seemed to be lovers.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! Cresto, what perfect little love-boats!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, the couples in the boats are soul-mates, they have been married\r\nfor years, and will always be lovers.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe longer they had lived together the more devoted they seemed. Many\r\nwere swimming; all seemed very fond of the water. Cresto took her to the\r\nimmense bath house, hired suits; they went into the plunge first, then\r\nto the lake outside. No one called him Prince Cresto over there. No one\r\ncan take a title or any money to another planet. They are all brothers\r\nand sisters, all one big family, all humble and Christlike, yet they\r\nseem to have plenty to live on. They are very busy and happy; they all\r\nplay as much as they work, and study. Ruth could swim well and\r\ngracefully on earth, so it did not take her long to swim there.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, when we learn to swim or dance well on earth, we can do the same\r\non any planet. If we can learn to sing and become great musicians on\r\nearth we never forget it. We begin here just where we left off on earth.\r\nWe never go backward, but forward\xe2\x80\x94unless we are punished for some sin.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, I wish we could go and visit other places of amusement?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThey walked on and on, each spot seemed a garden of Eden. They often saw\r\nlovely angels\xe2\x80\x94always two together.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, these couples are spirit mates. I suppose they look strange to\r\nyou, for they do not fight or get divorces here; they are contented and\r\nare industrious.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nRuth soon learned that they carried on their daily conversation by\r\nthought transference. They also talk the same as we do and sing the same\r\nas we do when together, when parted they use thought transference\xe2\x80\x94for\r\nhusbands go to work there and wives attend to the home as on earth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cIf our loved ones visit another planet we can send them messages\r\nquickly, by thought transference. This can be done on earth or anywhere.\r\nRuth, thought transference is only reading another\xe2\x80\x99s thoughts and\r\nanswering mentally.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, what a wonderful fairyland Mars is! I hear beautiful music\r\neverywhere, everyone singing in perfect love and harmony, their sweet,\r\ndear voices are soft, tender and melodious. Oh, I am in a magic world of\r\nlove, music and beauty. Mars is a world of love and peace instead of\r\nwar.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe think too much of our lives and sweethearts to ever go to war. War\r\nis a sin. All trouble could be settled by arbitration on earth. We only\r\nfight to protect dying souls on your planet. This is a mental fight to\r\nprotect our loved ones from enemies. Ruth, my dear child, can you guess\r\nwho I am? After seeing all you have just seen?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, Cresto, I can not!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou are only a child, but so highly educated you can understand, you\r\nare my other half, my twin-soul, my very own. I have watched over you\r\nand protected you since your birth. Darling, I would not have been\r\nparted from you so long, if I had not married poor Princess Mara for her\r\nwealth and caste. I have suffered a thousandfold for my ignorance,\r\nselfishness, and sin. It is a sin to marry without love. All true\r\nmarriages must be founded on love and honor. Love without honor and\r\nrespect is only misery. Ruth, my darling child, do you trust me now?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I do Cresto dear, I love you, for you seem to be the soul of\r\nhonor. You are my ideal of a gentleman. I never have had a lover in all\r\nmy life. I don\xe2\x80\x99t like the young men on earth. I do not know why.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou are only a child and are too young yet.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, I long to give up my life to good, instead of accepting the\r\nattentions of admirers as other young women do. I don\xe2\x80\x99t care for\r\nsociety, it is only wasting my time away.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPlease make me one promise, in answering this question, I know you will\r\nnot break your word. Which will you choose: Society and idleness, or\r\ndoing good and hard study? Please do not let me influence you, do as you\r\nplease. There is no sin in going into the social life if you do not\r\nwrong any one.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI choose to do good. I long to develop my mind and help others.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDear, if that is your choice, we will begin our good work now. My\r\ndarling doll if you will fast and pray for a few days I will take you to\r\nPurgatory. I only take you so you can prevent others from going there.\r\nJust so you can save lost souls. I take you only to show you how cruel,\r\nwicked, heartless, souls suffer. My dear, pray sincerely and try to fast\r\nuntil I see you again. There are no children in Purgatory, love. I will\r\nprotect you and keep you close to my side. Many saints will go with\r\nus,\xe2\x80\x94for it is not safe to go alone. Darling, if you see the underworld\r\nas it is, you will be better able to do good and prevent others from\r\ngoing there. First, my pet, promise to forgive me for taking your pure,\r\nsweet soul to such a place? O! you don\xe2\x80\x99t answer me? I will keep you here\r\nin Mars until you do, love.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I forgive, I want to go. It will be a wonderful new lesson for me\r\nto go. I can hardly wait for the time to come. Please take me now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNo, dear, you must fast and pray first. I will get angels to protect\r\nus. I must make everything safe for our visit there. Please light all\r\nyour candles after I take you home. Pray, go into the silence; later I\r\nwill return for you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VII.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cThen star nor sun shall waken,\r\n Nor any change of light;\r\n Nor sound of waters shaken\r\n Nor any sound or sight.\r\n Nor wintry leaves or vernal\r\n Nor days nor things diurnal;\r\n Only the sleep eternal\r\n In an eternal night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\nRuth had fasted for three days. All she drank was a cup of warm milk\r\ntwice a day\xe2\x80\x94and drank this very slowly. The third night after saying her\r\nprayers she fell into a sound sleep. It was darkest midnight when\r\nCresto, with many of his friends, came to protect Ruth. All were dressed\r\nin disguise\xe2\x80\x94in long black robes. Ruth gradually felt her soul gently and\r\nsilently carried away in space to the underworld.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, dear, were you ever in this awful, dismal, dark, place before?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, dear, all souls from earth are taken here at death and judged. I\r\nwas here a few days until I was judged for every act I ever did. No soul\r\ncan escape this court. Darling girl, when you are taken here, I will\r\ncome with you. I beg you to live such a perfect Christian life that our\r\ndear judges will not keep you long. Some stay thousands of years in this\r\none place, others, only a few days. Christ descended and remained here\r\ntwo days Himself. He was perfect. The third day Our Lord ascended up to\r\nHeaven. He rose in great power and glory. Dear Ruth, if you follow in\r\nHis footsteps, you need not fear to go where He has been. Jesus has\r\nsurveyed the narrow road that leads to the gates of Heaven. He is the\r\none who will light the way for us. Here our Lord and His hosts of\r\nangels, judge the living and the dead. Christ and His own followers have\r\nbeen judged here, so that they may be just to the wicked. He obeys and\r\nkeeps all laws that He commands us to keep. This is Divine justice to\r\nall. Praise His Holy name. He is most Divine! We are one universal\r\nfamily and every soul is treated alike. We all get our reward here,\r\nwhether it is good or evil. Hades is surrounded on all sides by awful,\r\ngrim, ghastly, rivers of woe. Millions upon millions of firm, silent\r\nboatmen carry the dead here to be judged. They row you safely and\r\nsilently to the great wide gates of Sheol, these cold stone gates are\r\nbroad and high. Justice alone holds the keys. Souls at death cannot\r\nfly\xe2\x80\x94they gradually learn to later. Those living here are all\r\nearth-bound. Sin has weakened their souls to such an extent that they\r\ncannot fly, and have not life enough to try. Constant sin is slow death\r\nto the soul. Here life has death for a neighbor. The great gates of\r\nPurgatory are daily and nightly thronged with millions and millions of\r\nangel guests. Just as the earthly prison should be thronged to see that\r\njustice rules! It is our business to see that no innocent soul stays in\r\nprison on earth. No one should be cast into prison on circumstantial\r\nevidence; this is an awful crime. The prisons on earth should be as good\r\nand just as the ones are in Purgatory, but they are not. You can change\r\nthe laws and make them so in time if the people of earth all work hard.\r\nTo understand Heaven and Hades we must study the last two chapters in\r\nthe Bible. Read Revelations 22:15. Study all of Revelations.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThey walked on deeper into the woods of lonely darkness. It was misty.\r\nThe angry dark gray clouds above them would not admit a ray of sunlight.\r\nWe saw great monsters among the cold gray rocks; in the wide crevices\r\nwere huge, long, green serpents, with mad, fiery red eyes. These snakes\r\nwere the companions of low men and women, of drunkards, gluttons, and\r\nformer prostitutes. Snakes and all ugly animals have ugly thoughts. They\r\nare on a low mental plane.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, dear, your sweet disposition, your constant prayers, have made\r\nyour face beautiful. Some of these poor, ill, low, ugly, fallen women\r\ntried to console themselves with ugly dogs and cats on earth. There were\r\nno babies, or children in Hades to pet, and as these poor, half clad,\r\nhalf starved women would try to pet these dogs, they would growl and\r\nsnarl and bite them. All animals were cross; there was no love or\r\nharmony there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, why are these hungry dogs and snakes with these poor, sad, ugly\r\nmen and women?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDear, like seeks like; love attracts love; enemies that hate each other\r\nmost, must live together. The wonderful power of gravitation draws them\r\ntogether. Look well, dear, and remember the result of hate. It is as\r\nstrong to attract as love is. All animals have souls and thoughts the\r\nsame as we have, only they are undeveloped. Men and women having the\r\nsame thoughts as animals and snakes are attracted to each other; here is\r\nanother lesson on the law of gravitation. It develops the soul more to\r\nadopt children instead of dogs or cats. The soul of a child is Divine.\r\nEvery one must live in the soul world or live in this underworld to\r\nsuffer with dangerous animals in Purgatory, until developed out of this\r\nstate. It takes intelligence, strength and energy to get out of\r\nPurgatory. Science proves this. You see, dear, how easy it is to get\r\nhere? How hard to get out?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs they went deeper and deeper into the lonely forest they saw a large,\r\nfilthy, dead sea covered over with green slime. The odor from this\r\nstagnant water made them all ill.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe only fish here is the ugly octopus. These poor, weary, tired men\r\nand women catch them and cook them on the rocks and eat them.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThey did not see any fruit in the forest. These folks were too angry and\r\nlazy to cultivate the ground or make the most of their punishment. All\r\nthey wanted was revenge and an excuse to get out of work. They all\r\nseemed to be cowards and indolent. The awful rivers and lakes were green\r\nand slimy. The air was cold, misty and damp all the time. No stars or\r\nmoon mingled in the dark gray clouds above. There were no flowers or\r\nbirds or lovers here. The land was full of muddy green swamps. They saw\r\nthem bare-footed, walking in the mud up to their knees. Some took on\r\neach other\xe2\x80\x99s conditions; all looked mean, blue, cross and ugly; they\r\nwould fight, groan, swear and curse one another. We could not find any\r\nreal love there. It was all cruel hate. Angels often came down when they\r\nwere fighting to part them. Then some would cling to their robes and\r\nhold on like mad men. An electric shock from these high angels\xe2\x80\x99 minds\r\nwould throw them onto the ground again. O! the power of mind or soul!\r\nEvery time they would hurt or abuse another, they were forced to stay\r\nanother day in Purgatory. Men or women who had tortured or helped in any\r\nway to torture any prisoner or helpless child or insane person, or any\r\none in their power on earth, were tortured seven-fold there; their\r\ninnocent victims were permitted to come here and torture them. This is a\r\njust law and is followed out to the letter in the underworld. One cannot\r\nescape justice any more than they can escape life. We all live on and on\r\nwhether we go to Heaven or Hades.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, here is another proof that the wicked are punished just as the\r\nBible teaches. Here in this underworld the souls of the wicked groan and\r\nmoan and are tormented day and night. Here the awful blackness seemed\r\ntouched and blended with green and blue fire, the air was poisoned with\r\nawful furies. Ugly long, yellow and black, fiery-eyed, serpents are\r\neverywhere driving the inhabitants here and there, \xe2\x80\x98there was no rest\r\nfor the wicked.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe serpents were even climbing the trees. The trees all looked dead,\r\nold and withered. All the men and women seemed lost; not one could find\r\ntheir loved ones. All were parted! All lonely! Their only companions\r\nwere those they hated most. Many had been in this awful place for years\r\nand years. Many would stay years longer, because they had made slaves of\r\nlovely young girls. These poor, helpless girls had gone on to Heaven,\r\nand the men that ruined them were still suffering here. They suffered\r\nmore than their former victims ever did. Ruth was so glad to see these\r\nmen suffering. Young girls have a right to honor and sacred love and\r\nhomes. These men and women that once sold sweet, lovely young girls for\r\nmoney, prayed for death; but there is no death in Hades! It was awful to\r\nsee these souls live on and on to suffer and groan from remorse of\r\nconscience. There would be no justice without this great mighty\r\nunderworld court, or Purgatory. The sins and crimes of darkness, of all\r\nthe universe, are concentrated here. This is a terrible and dismal\r\nregion of darkness, misery, despair and sorrow! Hades is a place in\r\nspace down in the opposite direction from Heaven. It is God\xe2\x80\x99s mighty\r\nCourt of Justice. There is no money or bail given there. You cannot\r\nbribe the Judge or jury. Their souls are laid bare! Their hearts and\r\nvery thoughts are judged. All their past acts are recorded. Justice\r\nreigns supreme. Every act and thought is pictured in space. Every sound\r\nascends and is recorded by our angels. Science is a perfect\r\nphotographer. All acts and thoughts are retained on the lens of the\r\nmind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, is that why these men and women seem so insane?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, dear, their minds are all darkness from sin and ignorance.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, please take me home out into the fresh air, I cannot stand\r\ntheir awful looks and misery.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCome, we will go at once. I should have taken you back sooner.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! what happiness to fly from darkest Purgatory, out into God\xe2\x80\x99s lovely\r\nstar light. To soar like a free bird in the sweet, pure fresh air. What\r\na contrast from that awful place!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, are you not glad you have chosen missionary work instead of\r\nidleness?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, dear, from now on I shall be perfectly happy in doing good. I must\r\ncommence my work at once. Now is the time. How lovely it is to float\r\nlike this among the stars. Away in space! To float like a bird among the\r\nstars and clouds is perfect ecstacy! Each star looks like big, bright\r\ndouble balls of light; one was blue, one was white. Cresto, this is a\r\nheavenly sight!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy darling, I will hold you closer to my heart and fly on and on with\r\nyou just to please you. My greatest happiness is in seeing you happy.\r\nAll you need to do is to put your lovely head on my breast, and take\r\nlong, deep breaths.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDarling, how grateful I am to you, Cresto, dear, to be able to float as\r\nthe angels do with you, just for tonight. O! this lovely, perfect night.\r\nCresto, I love you!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VIII.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cAll night she dreamed and wondered with the light\r\n Her lover came\xe2\x80\x94and then she understood\r\n The purpose of her being. Life was good,\r\n And all the world seemed bright\r\n And nothing was, but right.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x94Ella Wheeler Wilcox.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe next morning, early at dawn, she saw this Indian prince\r\nclairvoyantly. At first she could not believe her eyes! She thought the\r\ntrip to Mars and Purgatory only a dream.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, are you a true, living soul? Was my awful dream last night all\r\ntrue?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, poor child, your dream was all more than true. Our souls often\r\ntravel together. It is a fact that our souls can travel, while our\r\nbodies sleep. Love, there is no limit to the soul\xe2\x80\x99s flight. Our souls\r\nare made in the image of God. Doll, long ago I was once a real, live\r\nIndian prince. I came from another star to watch over you and protect\r\nyou, dear. Dreams are often true. I have given you many facts in dreams.\r\nI will also develop you to a higher degree clairvoyantly. You hear me\r\nnow, love, clairaudiently. True visions from the other world will often\r\nbe revealed to you. Ruth, please remember all that I reveal to you in\r\nvisions, dreams, or strong impressions will be real facts,\xe2\x80\x94soul facts. I\r\ndevelop you to help you make poor, sorrowing humanity happy and teach\r\nyou to help others to higher planes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, why do you spend so much time with me?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDear, I will always be with you. I am your twin-soul\xe2\x80\x94your soul-mate. I\r\nam your other half. Darling child, without you there is no life or\r\nhappiness. You are all my very own, my twin-soul. God has made us one. I\r\nlove you with all my heart and life! I will often take your soul away in\r\nvision to visit and enjoy other planets. Souls from other stars will\r\ncome to teach you and reveal beautiful facts to you. We will help you to\r\nkeep busy, happy and content, dove. Ruth all things are dual\xe2\x80\x94all souls\r\ndual. My darling, do you love me?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, dear, I love you. I do not know why this new love is so strange to\r\nme, so different from anything I ever heard of or thought of. Cresto, am\r\nI the first mortal ever loved by a spirit? Is this a real fact or am I\r\nstill dreaming? Please, dear, tell me?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, do you hear me?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I do?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAre you sure?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI am positive, Cresto.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, do you see me?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I see you.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy own darling little angel, kiss me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nRuth felt his warm kisses on her lovely red lips.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, dear, if you hear me, and see me, and feel my kisses, don\xe2\x80\x99t you\r\nknow that I live?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI know now that it is true!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoll, you are all my very own. You are the complement of my self-love.\r\nDearest, there is no individual spirit, male or female, exists without\r\nits one eternal complement. The law of attraction will sooner or later\r\nbring them together. Our souls have always been brought together.\r\nAccording to science we were once two tiny flames of light. You were a\r\ndim, tiny, soft, white light. I was the stronger and brighter one. We\r\ncould not be parted then. Your soul was then effeminate, my own always\r\nmasculine. Dearest child, you will always be a lady, I a gentleman\xe2\x80\x94man\r\nthrough eternity. We had no bodies then, we were all soul, dear. Just\r\ntwo little lights, imprisoned with a tiny globe of light, floating in a\r\ncircle near the lovely, bright Pleiades. So the dear angels could watch\r\nover us and protect our souls. They have protected us ever since and\r\nalways will, dear. Some day, darling, we will protect others. There is\r\nlots of work to do in our Master\xe2\x80\x99s vineyard. We will love to work\r\ntogether; all angels do. In Heaven and all other stars where true\r\nsoul-mates are united in holy marriage, they are called angels. In Mars\r\nwe almost always see the two together. Sweetheart, our souls were living\r\nand shining in space together for centuries. All others are the same.\r\nGod loves us more than we love Him. Our souls are very dear and can\r\nnever, never be lost\xe2\x80\x94that is an impossibility. We are one with Our\r\nFather in Heaven. Love, He has made us one for our immortal happiness.\r\nOur souls crave and constantly pray for eternal loving companionship.\r\nYou are mine, for you and I, dear, were in embryo in a globe of light,\r\nblended in harmony, and kept together by magnetism for our own\r\nprotection; until the angels were sure our souls were perfect and would\r\nbe immortal. Our immortality is very expensive, let us prize it and be\r\ngrateful, prayerful and always happy. After our souls become very\r\nsensitive, strong, and highly magnetized, we are carried to earth and\r\nbecome human for the first time. All the rest of the time, our souls\r\nhave been taking on immortality, and gradually growing. God created us,\r\nthen magnetized us, in the beginning so we could find each other, and be\r\nunited now. I have found you again, love, by the law of attraction.\r\nDear, I will explain more clearly that angels send these sacred little\r\ntwin-souls encased in globes of light to your earth by electricity on\r\nwaves of ether through the heavens, down, down, safely to earth to live\r\nin mortal forms in order that we may obtain experience and knowledge.\r\nYou are my immortal wife, my only love from this day on. Your dear\r\nguardian angel left you in America and me in India. Dear, angels sent\r\nthe stork from door to door with you; mothers were all too busy to keep\r\nyou long, they did not know your value. Your mother longed and prayed\r\nfor a child just like you. She has loved you and kept you close to her\r\nloving heart for sixteen years. Dear, I can see a light around your\r\nsweet, pretty head. Our minds or souls are still light. If mortals could\r\nonly see the light. Many can see it clairvoyantly. Good night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER IX.\r\n\r\n\r\nA year has passed away. Ruth has not heard from Cresto, or even dreamed\r\nof him. All this time she has been doing all the good she could with her\r\npen and dear old violin. Cathy de Bathe had gone to California to study\r\nmusic. Aunt Mary had just brought Ruth a letter from Cathy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHere, honey, is a fat letter from youah sweetheart, Miss Ruth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you, Aunt Mary.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy Own Darling Ruth:\r\n\r\nI was so glad to get your last letter. I am very sorry you do not have\r\nany more visions. I do. I keep it a secret, for my husband and his folks\r\nare all Adventists and do not believe as you and I do.\r\n\r\nForgive me, dear, for not telling you of my marriage before. I married\r\nfor love and money; all California girls do. We are not so sweet and\r\ngood as you are. My young husband is tall and handsome, with brown eyes,\r\nlight curly hair, and weighs over two hundred pounds. You see, my dear,\r\nhe is a dainty little California boy. His name is Addison MacRay.\r\nAddison gave me a lovely, modern bungalow. We have a smooth, velvety\r\nlawn in front. A great variety of hanging ferns on our large stone front\r\nporch; around this porch are many kinds of lovely roses, violets, ferns\r\nand other plants. There are two broad stone steps; on either side of the\r\nsteps are massive square pillars on each of which is a drooping tropical\r\nplant. There is a great, large oak door, with four pretty, small\r\nwindows. We have a long living room, with a sturdy old mission\r\nfireplace. Addison bought beautiful furniture for every room. There is a\r\nlarge dining room, and a cute little breakfast room. Our room is a\r\ndream\xe2\x80\x94all in blue and white. Off from our little breakfast room is a\r\nlarge, sunny aviary filled with canary birds that sing all day long. My\r\nhusband bought the birds in Paris. We have fruit, flowers and vegetables\r\ngrowing the year round back of our home. We gather fruit and flowers\r\nevery day. We have imported chickens, doves and horses. We drive in the\r\ncountry every day. Please come and visit us for a few months. I want you\r\nto enjoy our new home. Ruth, come and see it for yourself, I haven\xe2\x80\x99t\r\ntime to tell you how beautiful it is. My dear, I have a few friends that\r\ncome to our home twice a week, just to investigate the immortality of\r\nthe soul. The name of our class is \xe2\x80\x98The Divinity Club.\xe2\x80\x99 I have two new\r\nangels in my band, Asa and Ione. Asa said he used to weigh two hundred\r\npounds; now he only weighs seventy-five pounds. Now he and Ione have a\r\nlovely home in Mars. His twin-soul, Ione, is sweet and just as pretty\r\nand young as you are, Dolly dear. They both worship each other and look\r\nalike; only Asa is much taller. Ione told me a man on Mars would be\r\neighty-three times stronger than a man on earth. And she said there was\r\nplenty of water from the wonderful canals to supply every one. The red\r\nplanet, Mars, is very interesting to me. Do you know much about it?\r\nPlease tell me all you know about it, will you, dear?\r\n\r\n\r\n Lovingly,\r\n\r\n CATHY MACRAY.\r\n\r\nP. S.\xe2\x80\x94Please write soon, love.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\nAddison and Cathy MacRay were the happiest couple in California, they\r\nwere going to visit friends on Catalina Island.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDarling Addison, I hate to leave our new bungalow even to visit our\r\nbest friends.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAt San Pedro they found passageway on the boat Cabrillo. The water was\r\ncalm and brilliantly blue. They enjoyed watching the silvery flying fish\r\non the way. Their friends were at the pier to meet them, Artemus Dawson,\r\nthe inventor, Lemanuel Schwarze, Flora Thurston and her daughter and son\r\nwere in the party, Ana Marie Thurston was pretty, lively and full of\r\nfun. Mr. Dawson drove slowly up the steep hill to his quaint little\r\nhome. All were tired and retired early. All of the guests were up early\r\nthe next morning and ready to view the submarine gardens. Mr. Dawson\r\nowned a wonderful glass bottom boat\xe2\x80\x94his own invention. Artemus used\r\nelectricity as motive power. By touching a key the boat shot forward\r\nthrough the foam, producing strains of music.\r\n\r\nThey looked down through the glass and saw every variety of fish\xe2\x80\x94even\r\ngold fish. It was a fairyland of beauty, and we wondered if these fish\r\nhad intelligence. These gardens are wonderful. They enjoyed their beds\r\nof stone and lovely green, lacy blankets of soft, fluffy moss. Long,\r\nhanging ferns grew from their castles of rock. God has made a beautiful\r\nworld for the fish to live in. The fish enjoy their wonderful homes.\r\nThey obey the laws of Nature, hence they still live in the garden of\r\nEden. The ugly fish were not jealous of the beautiful gold fish. They\r\nseemed to enjoy each other\xe2\x80\x99s society and live in harmony. How could they\r\nfight in such beautiful gardens? They enjoyed viewing these lovely\r\ngardens of the sea until nearly sun down. By the time they reached home\r\nthey were all tired out.\r\n\r\nAna Marie Thurston was a sweet, cheerful little blonde. She resembled\r\nher father, who was killed for the money he possessed when she was a\r\nsmall child. Albert Thurston was a psychic before he was killed. Ana\r\nMarie had a beautiful sister, who died in New Orleans at the age of\r\nfourteen. Eva Thurston was dark, tall and beautiful. Eva and her father\r\ndeveloped Ana Marie until she was a wonderful psychic. Mrs. Thurston and\r\nAna Marie were broken hearted when Eva died.\r\n\r\nHer friends began to plead with little Ana Marie to go into a trance, or\r\nsee clairvoyantly for them. \xe2\x80\x9cMy father and Eva tell me I can go into a\r\ntrance and then I must retire.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAll wrote down everything she said. Ana Marie was controlled by her\r\nsweet, pretty sister Eva. \xe2\x80\x9cI am Eva, and my little sister will not\r\nremember a word I say, so please tell her all I say?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEva, dear, we will write every word and show her the notes.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThank you. Please tell my little sister that my father and I love her\r\nand mamma more than ever. My father and I live in Mars now. I died a\r\ntrue Catholic. The first angel I saw was my father and his sweet\r\ncompanion. Mamma in a few years you and sister will get married and be\r\nhappy. Mamma, please don\xe2\x80\x99t cry so; it hurts us and ruins your own\r\nhealth. We are with you the same as ever, and are not dead at all.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMr. Dawson, your mother, Mary Dawson, is here and sends you all her\r\nlove.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMrs. Schwarze, your son George is here. He says he is in a fine school\r\nat Lastriste, a large city in Mars. He loves his school and companions.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDear Cathy, I see many angels, with bright lights, around you and your\r\nhusband. Eno, Cresto, Daisy, Asa and Ione are here. Daisy is a lovely\r\nblonde, with very large blue eyes; she has charge of many circles in\r\nCalifornia. Daisy is bright and cheerful, and does a great deal of good\r\nin the world. She lives with her grandparents in a lovely home in Mars.\r\nThis home is a wonderful mansion, all stone, and furnished elegantly.\r\nShe is a wonderful little artist. Her home is filled with beautiful\r\npaintings that she has produced by herself. She inspires many slightly\r\ntalented people on earth to paint wonderfully. Daisy used to visit Cathy\r\noften. Once she gave Cathy a lovely pearl ring. Cathy saw this lovely\r\nring, clairvoyantly.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI do not know how to thank you for that beautiful ring, now, Daisy\r\ndear, please keep it for me until I go over there.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI will, dear Cathy. Cresto wants to talk to you now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCathy, it will pay you to go home in a month. Pack your trunk again and\r\nvisit your friend, Ruth. In a few months she will be killed by fear or\r\nlightning, in a terrible storm. The child needs you there, later you\r\nwill need her; then she and I will come back and protect and help you.\r\nCan she go, Addison?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cShe may go as soon as we get home. I must go and look after my mines,\r\nanyway.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAddison, you will find a rich gold mine, one mile east of the one you\r\nown now. Keep that mine all for your own. I give that to you for your\r\nkindness to Ruth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO, Cresto, I thank you with all my heart! I promise to go to Ruth as\r\nsoon as you want me to.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cEnjoy your visit here first.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs Daisy loved painting, Ione loved poetry. The poetess began in stately\r\nverse,\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cI have fed upon manna from heaven above;\r\n Have tasted the fruit of a wonderful love;\r\n I have looked on a land where the sun ever beams,\r\n And talked with the angels in mystical dreams;\r\n And though some visions may die in their birth,\r\n They still leave the trail of their glory on earth.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIone read us other poems she had composed. Daisy asked if any of the\r\nclairvoyants could tell the color of their new dresses? Cathy could see\r\nthat Daisy wore a pale blue silk, with fine lace trimming; Ione a light\r\nyellow silk, trimmed in heavy, rich lace. Both wore rich jewels and\r\ngolden sandals. The maidens from Mars were beautiful, and had long heavy\r\ngolden hair. They wore lace undergarments of almost cobweb-like\r\ndelicacy, so very fine that it cannot be pictured or imagined. Long\r\nwhite opera cloaks swept from their dresses. Their snowy, soft white\r\nveils looked like floating clouds in the sunshine. Daisy wore daisies in\r\nher golden hair and at her waist. She was a perfect saint and did all\r\nthe good she could on earth. We all adored her. Daisy said there are no\r\nhats in Mars, to make the hair come out; they never wear or make corsets\r\nor high heels. There are no shoes there. They dress beautifully, with\r\nlong robes, jewels, crowns, laces and sandals. They do not wear\r\nstockings. There are no fat, ill men or women there. They only eat one\r\nmeal a day, and have not time to grow stout. Cresto now told Addison\r\nMacRay all his past. Addison was converted that night. He saw many\r\nbright lights.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow that I have told you facts about your past, I will tell you some\r\nfacts about Mars: Mars is a land of beauty\xe2\x80\x94a land of love and sunshine,\r\nand music and flowers. We have two softly lighted moons, and many large,\r\nbright stars. We have no dark nights, our nights are only soft\r\ntwilights. Our planet appears red from the earth, for we have more\r\nsunlight, more moonlight and electricity. We have our seasons the same\r\nas you have, but our days are longer than yours. Many of our flowers and\r\nvegetables are red in color. Our wonderful electric lights appear red\r\nfrom your world\xe2\x80\x94they are all colors.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI weighed over two hundred pounds on earth, now I weigh seventy-five.\r\nWe do not need any superfluous fat here. We must be very light and\r\nintelligent in order to fly. We float in the clouds and swim in real\r\nwater; dance, laugh, ride, talk, and sing in the same manner as you do.\r\nAs a soul advances from star to star, each one has a grand surprise\r\nawaiting them. I was surprised and happy to find out I could learn to\r\nfloat after my resurrection, and to know God has made an immortal\r\ncompanion for each one of us. Think of such infinite love! Adam and Eve\r\nwere soul-mates. I soon found out here there was no eternal Hell. Some\r\nof the places in Purgatory are as terror-striking. After death, if one\r\nhas lived a life of sin or idleness, he is cast into prison in Purgatory\r\nand bound and chained down for years away from all his loved ones. No\r\none is kept in prison after death unless that person deserves to suffer.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMany of my old friends are now living happy with their twin-souls in\r\nVenus, Mars and other stars. I love to hear them tell me of their homes\r\nand work. Gentlemen in other planets never wear beards, as it takes\r\ntheir mental strength; but they can send their double\xe2\x80\x94a picture only\xe2\x80\x94and\r\nappear with beards the same as in earth life. We have about one thousand\r\nwonderful canals, and over one thousand oases with little farms on them.\r\nOur great canals all have wonderful, large stone gates about every one\r\nthousand miles, so we can control the water. After harvest is over we\r\nlet the water go back to the poles. The snow in winter keeps the beds of\r\nthe canals pure. In this way we can live in Mars over one thousand years\r\nbefore we are transferred to a higher star. We must take good care of\r\nour health. We pray and keep in harmony with Our Creator\xe2\x80\x99s Divine mind\r\nas near as possible. Our minds rule our physical condition. \xe2\x80\x98As one\r\nthinketh, so is he.\xe2\x80\x99 We are eighty-three times stronger than our loved\r\nones on earth. Our atmosphere is pure and bracing and adapted entirely\r\nto our use. It is hard work for us to breathe on your earth. Eva has\r\ngone home to rest, while others take her place. All the conditions must\r\nbe perfect for us to converse with you. Earth-bound spirits can talk\r\nlonger, but they do not often give truths. It is a fact, we have all the\r\nwater we need. We have all the wealth and land we can use. We do not use\r\nmoney, but give checks which amounts to the same thing. Every person\r\ngets full wages for their work. There are no peculiar vegetables or men\r\non Mars, as has been stated in your papers. No immense eye grows to\r\nwatch over us. God rules all worlds with His mind and with the help of\r\nHis Holy angels. There is nothing crazy or odd where God rules. All\r\ninsanity, all strange vegetables and trees, etc., are in Purgatory, or\r\non earth. Awful things happen where ignorant souls disobey Our Lord and\r\nsin. Good night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER X.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cI heard one night a whisper\r\n Of an angel, sweet and fair,\r\n Of a glorious, beautiful treasure,\r\n Of a lovely child of care.\r\n\r\n She was mine, so the angels told me,\r\n I knew it over there;\r\n I heard it once in evening\r\n So gentle and so rare.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x94Frank Burke.\r\n\r\n\r\nAddison and Cathy were at home, having just returned from their trip,\r\nwhen both heard this song in the air close to them.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCathy, dear, I hear the song, but I do not see the singer.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI saw Cresto singing near us.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cAddison that is a song I composed for Ruth. Cathy, please do not wear\r\nblack at her grave, or mourn for her; she will be so happy with me.\r\nPlease try to remember this little verse:\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s no destroying death frost here,\r\n To nip the hope buds ere they bloom;\r\n The bridal tour is through the spheres;\r\n Eternity the honeymoon.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAddison, you will be too busy to get lonely while Cathy is gone. Your\r\nnew mine will keep you very busy, and in time will make you a very rich\r\nman.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI will give one-half of all I have to my Cathy to do as she pleases\r\nwith.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou will both put the money in a good cause.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nA week later Ruth was holding Cathy in her arms. \xe2\x80\x9cO! Cathy, do you love\r\nme so much as to leave your husband and lovely new bungalow, just to\r\nvisit me, dear?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, Doll, I love you just that much, and a thousandfold more. Ruth,\r\ndear, let\xe2\x80\x99s spend a month in talking and laughing our heads off? I have\r\nbeen so busy the rest and fun will do me good.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCathy, I wish I could tell you how happy your visit has made me.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou dear little sweetheart, I love you!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy sweet Cathy!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cHere is a letter, honey, for Mrs. Cathy MacRay.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! thank you, Aunty Mary.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth it is from my husband. I will read it to you, dear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cPlease do if it is a love letter.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy Dear Cathy, my own darling wife:\r\n\r\nI was very anxious to find out if Cresto knew about that mine. So after\r\nI kissed you good bye I took the next train out to hunt up the mine. I\r\nfound it just where he said I would. I find the mine very rich. All he\r\nsaid is true. Finding this mine is a wonderful test for me. Please have\r\na good time and enjoy your old friends. I will send you five hundred\r\ndollars to enjoy with Ruth. So go where you please and be happy. I am\r\nvery busy now. I will write more next time. Please write soon. With love\r\nand a thousand kisses,\r\n\r\n Your husband,\r\n\r\n ADDISON.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, isn\xe2\x80\x99t he a darling to send me so much money without my ever\r\nasking for a cent? We will spend this money together, my sweet Doll.\r\nTomorrow we will go to New Orleans and buy some pretty dresses and get\r\nsome new books. I am so tired I must go to sleep now.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nRuth was only partly asleep when she heard this song in her room. Ione\r\nhad taught the sweet song to Cathy and she was now singing it softly.\r\nThe sweet tune was more beautiful than the words. She never had heard\r\nsuch wonderful music:\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cI sat anticipating, yet awed, with that instinct alert,\r\n Dreading but longing for I knew not what;\r\n While he with the still swiftness, that bespeaks the All stirred\r\n within,\r\n Glided beside me;\r\n And with tender arms around and about me, like the will o\xe2\x80\x99 the wisp,\r\n He drew me closely to his loving breast;\r\n And he kissed me, and he kissed me,\r\n\r\n In that gentle way,\r\n Till the magic thrills, one after another\r\n Opened wide all the closed up avenues of my soul.\r\n And in a delirium of ecstatic joy,\r\n My being heaved and heaved like the billows of an ocean roused from its\r\n rest,\r\n As if the elements had loosened their festive whirlwinds in a game of\r\n life and death;\r\n O love! O joy! Immortal bliss!\r\n This was a kiss, a kiss!\r\n That stirred the nerve fluids till they seemed like ruby wine aflame in\r\n my veins,\r\n And he grew so tender and loving, that it was as if an abyss had\r\n swallowed us up in its mystic fold;\r\n The hazardous past was forgotten,\r\n Faded away from the hallowed now;\r\n The present enough, O love\xe2\x80\x99s tremulous ecstacy!\r\n Life was veiled in a rosy mist of enchanted bliss.\r\n O glory of glories!\r\n The fairies had transported us to their love paradise center, uniting\r\n our souls with a kiss! A kiss!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nIone sang and prayed with the young girls until they fell asleep. Ione\r\nwas a perfect saint.\r\n\r\nCresto came again to Ruth that night in her dreams. I, Ruth, felt myself\r\nbeing lifted up gently. I saw dear Cathy there below me sleeping\r\nsoundly. I wanted to take her with me. Cresto said she was not developed\r\nenough to go this time. I reached out my arms to take her anyway.\r\nSuddenly I was forced rapidly up, up, into terrible space again. Soon I\r\nsaw the light again. Cresto asked me if I would like to go with him and\r\nsee some of the beautiful homes and see more of the canals?\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, I would love to go.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoll, you may tell Cathy all about your visit, dear tomorrow, she is\r\nnot strong enough to be away so long.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe stopped on one of the farms in Mars. I saw a lovely swimming pool, a\r\nbig, fine home, and many beautiful flowers in the front yard. Lovely\r\nfruits and nuts, and vegetables in the back. Some of the tops of the\r\nvegetables and many of the flowers were red. All the farms we saw looked\r\nperfect. I soon saw that honest scientific farming was fashionable in\r\nMars.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO Cresto, dear, our own Luther Burbank will be in his glory as soon as\r\nhe comes here.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDear, there are many Burbanks in other worlds, and many Edisons, too.\r\nThe pure, cool, fresh air feels so refreshing and invigorating. Doll,\r\nthe mountains used to be very high here but for years the Martians have\r\ncut the tops off to fill up the hollow places.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOur mountains are valuable cultivated hills now. There are only a few\r\nhigh peaks left. The grass on the hills looked lighter than ours. All\r\nflowers are more beautiful here and have more colors. Lovely birds sing\r\nsweetly early and late. O! Cresto, look at those lovely bright rainbows\r\nin the distance!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDarling, you see the lights of a beautiful city called Lastriste, it\r\nlooks from here as if it were many beautiful rainbows\xe2\x80\x94the rainbows\r\nlooked as if they had a thousand different colors.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nI saw new shades of blue, green, violet and red, all mingled in one\r\ngrand, glorious glimmering light. It is all lighted by wonderful\r\nelectric lights. In this large city there are lovely flowers and trees\r\naround the temples and each home. No two houses are close together, even\r\nin the large cities.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, my darling girl, the sun rises in beauty here and sets in more\r\ngrandeur and glory than you have just witnessed. Our sunlight is bright\r\nand more vivacious than on earth. Our nights seem like twilight. Our\r\ndarkest midnight in summer is only a soft calm, gentle, subtle,\r\ntwilight. Our clouds float very high; we see each beautiful design\r\ndistinctly. Science and our many trees cause the rain to come\r\nperiodically. We have summer and winter, seed time and harvest, the same\r\nas you do. We live a simple life here. We love one another and help each\r\nother all we can. All those who own farms here are educated; they study\r\nagriculture, and gradually work their way to wealth and happiness. A\r\nfarmer here is loved in the same manner as a banker or king on earth,\r\nonly more.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cOur temples, our schools are free. We are happy. We have no slaves.\r\nWork is an honor here. Most commerce is carried on by means of these\r\nwonderful connecting canals\xe2\x80\x94many great minds have worked on these\r\nperfect canals for years. These canals are the direct causes of our\r\ngreat wealth. The rich could control the waters of the earth the same as\r\nwe do, in time. The money used for war alone would do it. Our big\r\nairships, our boats, our cars, are all propelled by electrical energy.\r\nOur airships carry from ten to one hundred people at once. All airships\r\ncan sail very high or low. Many airships are made just for two,\xe2\x80\x94just for\r\nlovers. I will order a little airship for two now, mentally. Darling,\r\nyou see I do not need to hunt up a telephone. All Martians carry their\r\nown telephones in their heads. Long distance doesn\xe2\x80\x99t cost us a cent.\r\nThere are about ten beautiful live salty oceans here. Remember, dear,\r\nthere is a natural law in all spiritual worlds. All water and land here\r\nis now under perfect control. Now, babe, I will show you from our\r\nairship the mighty net work of our vast great canals running from pole\r\nto pole, from north to south. Near the center of Mars they also run from\r\neast to west to irrigate little farms. High gates control these canals.\r\nOur Martians are wonderful engineers. These great gates are raised by\r\nwonderful machinery and operated by electricity. Doll, our public\r\nschools are still more wonderful and more numerous than the canals. Why\r\nnot? We are a little higher than the earth; a little nearer Heaven.\r\nDear, we are traveling at the rate of 186,280 miles a second, about as\r\nfast as wireless telegraphy. We are floating in space on electric waves\r\nand can travel as fast as thought. Earth-bound souls cannot travel at\r\nall beyond the first plane; they are wicked and have wasted their energy\r\nin sin and idleness. Come, Doll, my sweet child, and put your pretty,\r\nsoft arms around my neck and kiss me, and I will show you the lovely\r\nsacred temple where our own future marriage ceremony will be performed\r\nas soon as you come home to me. Without law there is no happiness.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO Cresto, I wish I could always stay here in your arms.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cSome day you can, pet. Your future happiness is very sacred to me,\r\nlove. Here is the temple.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! darling, is it a real true church? What perfect Christians you must\r\nbe to build such a lovely high temple to worship in?\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDarling child, there is no temple in any star, no matter how beautiful\r\nor rich that temple may be, is perfect enough to worship God in. Doll,\r\nnext to my Father I love you\xe2\x80\x94my own love, Doll! I hold the perfect\r\nmating of two souls.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cThrough blended love, to be the sum of bliss;\r\n Long as Eternity rolls.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy lovely child, my own Ruth, I will take you to my mother\xe2\x80\x99s home and\r\nintroduce you to her; her name is Helios, my father\xe2\x80\x99s name is Rupert; my\r\nmother is a sweet little blonde. I am the perfect picture of my father.\r\nShe is keeping a few jewels I have bought for you, pet. The others you\r\nmay select for yourself when you come.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe soon came to a lovely, large country home, with beautiful flowers and\r\na lawn. The side porch was covered with large black grapes. On the back\r\nporch hung dark red grapes, among yellow and white roses. On the left is\r\na driveway, on the right is a small lake, a bath house, and a large\r\nswimming pool. We found Helios feeding the graceful pet swans and ducks\r\non the lake. She was a pretty, dainty little woman, who led us into the\r\nhouse to her private rooms. Helios took out a small casket from her\r\nlarge cedar chest, and handed it to Cresto. He showed her a lovely\r\ndiamond engagement ring,\xe2\x80\x94the stone was perfect; a rope of large pearls\r\nwith a brilliant ruby pendant. Cresto wound the pearls around Ruth\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nsmall, white neck several times; a marvelous little watch, inlaid with\r\nemeralds and diamonds, Cresto\xe2\x80\x99s picture was engraved inside, the watch\r\nhung on a delicate, long gold chain; there were all kinds of perfect\r\nrings, a handsome ruby bracelet, two big butterfly ruby pins, a\r\nbeautiful yellow amber colored diamond necklace; at last a stately, pure\r\ngold crown inlaid with pink pearls and diamonds.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cDoll, I will place the tiara on your lovely head soon as you are my\r\nbride.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nCresto took a heavily chased bottle and asked me to drink to our health,\r\nand wealth. It was a large, heavy quart-sized bottle. As soon as Cresto\r\nremoved the crystal stopper it foamed like liquid air. It was full of\r\nelectricity. It was sparkling and had the piquant taste of champagne.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cBabe, you will drink this as a tonic here instead of hot tea and\r\ncoffee. Doll, my love, please drink some more of this new ambrosia. We\r\nhave different kinds of ambrosia here, dear.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cCresto, I never tasted anything so delicious. We also have a liquid\r\ncopperas that is used as a tonic. It takes a highly educated chemist to\r\nmake these mineral beverages.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe paper napkins were soft as silk\xe2\x80\x94they burn all paper napkins and\r\nhandkerchiefs when soiled. They only eat one small meal a day. The bread\r\nis slightly like our cakes in taste. It is airiated sweet bread, filled\r\nwith ground nuts and dried fruit.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cRuth, my pet, we eat all kinds of delicious fresh fruit and nuts. We\r\ndrink milk and use lots of eggs. Sweetheart, you have been gone a long\r\ntime. I must take you home.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe began to float upward in space. O! it is heaven to soar so high.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe use mind power to float. The more intelligent the spirit, the better\r\nthey can soar,\xe2\x80\x9d said Cresto.\r\n\r\nIt was a strange new happiness to float in space with a man you respect\r\nand worship.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cIt was long and long ago our love began;\r\n It is something all unmeasured by Time\xe2\x80\x99s span;\r\n In an era and a spot, by the modern world forgot;\r\n We were lovers, ere God named us Maid and Man.\r\n\r\n Like the memory of music made by streams,\r\n All the beauty of that other life seems,\r\n But I always thought it so, and at last I know, I know.\r\n We were lovers in the land of Silver Dreams.\r\n O, the land of Silver Dreams all about us shines and gleams,\r\n Where we loved before God fashioned night and day.\r\n We were souls in eerie, minds made of light;\r\n Our love wings could speed from height to height.\r\n All was glory, love and light, light with out a night.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nCresto sang these soul-stirring words to me while he was holding me in\r\nhis strong arms and carrying me home.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XI.\r\n\r\n Will those Visions come again\r\n O, I long to soar back to Mars,\r\n To live in a better land than ours;\r\n To be loved by him always the same.\r\n\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO, Cathy, what a lovely, impulsive bride you are!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThe girls were deeply in love with each other. Ruth was reading to Cathy\r\non the front porch, both being seated in a low-swinging hammock.\r\n\r\nThese dear, sweet companions had been laughing and talking over their\r\nnew dresses, and reading all day. Cathy wore a dainty blue lawn; Ruth\r\nwas dressed all in pure white\xe2\x80\x94she felt happiest when dressed in white.\r\n\r\nSuddenly the clouds turned black. An awful storm was brewing. The\r\nlightning came down in fiery forked tongues, and lighted up the awful\r\ndarkness. The tall, graceful pines swayed and moaned. They bowed their\r\nhaughty heads nearly to the earth. At times the whole country seemed on\r\nfire with brilliant phosphorescent lights. The storm blasts were furious\r\nin their battle with the pines of the forest. It would seem that the\r\nstorm fiends were angry at the stability, solidity, and placidity of\r\nmother earth.\r\n\r\nRuth and Cathy had just finished reading Milton\xe2\x80\x99s Paradise Lost. As they\r\nwere seriously discussing this masterpiece, there was a sudden, terrific\r\nflash of lightning that blinded the girls a moment; it shocked Cathy,\r\nshe was afraid and could not speak or move. She remembered now all\r\nCresto told her on the island of Catalina. Half-stunned, she stared\r\nwildly about her, grasping the edge of the hammock for support. Slowly\r\nher head turned with ominous foreboding to a white heap on the porch.\r\nPoor Catherine\xe2\x80\x99s bosom welled within her. The emotion seemed too great\r\nfor human endurance. She sank forward on the body with a heartrending\r\nsob. She remained a helpless, convulsed heap on the dead. Fear alone had\r\nkilled our delicate little Ruth, who had been suffering for days from\r\nheart trouble, unknown to all. Again the lightning flashed. Cathy saw in\r\nfront of her as plain as a human, a tall, dark, handsome young\r\ngentleman, with lovely, flowing white robes, full of light, bend over\r\nRuth\xe2\x80\x99s lifeless form. Another bright flash of lightning and she\r\ndistinctly saw the lovely Ruth all in gauzy, fluffy, shimmering, pure\r\nwhite, her robes full of light, too\xe2\x80\x94by Cresto\xe2\x80\x99s side, smiling.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! I never saw such dazzling, clinging, beautiful golden white robes on\r\nany one as Ruth now wore. She looked like a fairy bride, much smaller\r\nthan she looked yesterday. I wondered if any angel in Heaven could dress\r\nmore beautiful? It is worth a fortune just to see this wonderful sight!\r\nI am glad I came to see this resurrection of Ruth. I thank God for my\r\nclairvoyance now. O! how lovely to know there is no death! Cresto and\r\nhis sweet mother wound a thin, long white silk veil around her head and\r\nshoulders. For a moment Cresto held her close to his heart. He kissed\r\nher tenderly and lovingly. Then the two smiled and waved their fairy\r\nhands good bye at me. For the first time I saw Ruth and Cresto were not\r\nalone. Cresto\xe2\x80\x99s mother and many angels were leading the band. I saw them\r\ndistinctly rise higher and higher, up, up, into the dark clouds. They\r\nfloated away from life\xe2\x80\x99s storms and the clouds and all darkness; away\r\nfrom cold death, to immortal life; away into God\xe2\x80\x99s bright blue\r\nsunlight!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nAs she watched the lovely golden white robes float away in the distance,\r\nCathy raised her arms in prayer.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO! my Divine Heavenly Father and His Holy Angels, Will Thou resurrect\r\nme to immortality? Will Thou protect me and those I love, and keep my\r\nsoul pure? May I prove there is no death to others and serve Thee, My\r\nGod, faithfully through all eternity? Amen.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nThat lonely, dark, stormy night Cathy cried and sobbed for her lovely\r\nRuth. O! how terrible to be all alone at the hour of death!\r\n\r\nCathy\xe2\x80\x99s great sorrow was darker than the night. Absolutely exhausted\r\nfrom crying she fell asleep and dreamed she saw Ruth\xe2\x80\x99s sylph-like form.\r\nShe was dressed the same as she was that night of her glorious\r\nresurrection. Ruth, pale and trembling, stood gazing vacant-eyed, on the\r\nimmensity of nature. As each stroke flashed, Cathy shrieked in terror.\r\nRuth stood pale and motionless with head uplifted and nostrils dilated\r\nin the ecstacy of the moment, the light of heaven beamed across her\r\nsoulful face. Her body became brilliantly illuminated, the pines could\r\nbe dimly seen through her almost transparent figure. She lifted her\r\nfragile arms heavenward and slowly ascended, the glory shining around\r\nher.\r\n\r\nA month later Cathy went home to her husband, to love, to comfort and to\r\nhappiness. There is no happiness like a husband\xe2\x80\x99s immortal love; perfect\r\nlove never dies.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n[Illustration: chapter headpiece]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XII.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x9c\xe2\x80\x99Tis told somewhere in Eastern story\r\n That those who loved once blossomed as flowers\r\n On the same stem, amid the glory\r\n Of Eden\xe2\x80\x99s green and fragrant bowers;\r\n And that, though parted oft by fate\r\n Yet when the glow of life is ended,\r\n Each soul again shall find its mate,\r\n And in one bloom again be blended.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\r\nAddison MacRay was now a very rich man; he and Cathy are perfectly happy\r\nin their bungalow. They took charge of The Divinity Club and held three\r\nlarge circles every week. The members of The Divinity Club were all\r\nhighly educated and refined. It had been a long, long time before she\r\never saw Cresto and Ruth. At the club that night Addison and Cathy were\r\noverjoyed and surprised at once more seeing Cresto and Ruth. The club\r\nsoon learned to understand Cresto by thought transference.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cO Ruth, dear, why have you stayed away so long? My Doll!!\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cMy darling, sweet Cathy, we came here often but could not make our\r\npresence known. You did not make the right conditions for us to show\r\nourselves and talk. Your club is lovely and we are regular members. My\r\ndear child, if you keep the conditions like this we will come often and\r\nhelp you. Darling Cathy, after my glorious transmission, Cresto and I\r\nwere married in a lovely temple on Mars. Cresto showed me the very\r\ntemple once in a vision. He often took me to Mars on long pleasure trips\r\nbefore my transmission. In my visions I saw all things dimly, compared\r\nto all I see and know now. I see all the beautiful scenery more clearly\r\nnow. Cathy, I wish you could see our lovely home in Mars, and all the\r\nlovely jewels Cresto and my friends gave me. I cannot begin to tell you\r\nhow happy and busy I am. I often see my old school mates. We have so\r\nmany dear friends we enjoy with all our hearts. We love more in Mars\r\nthan you do on earth. In Mars we daily practice our Saviour\xe2\x80\x99s words to\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Love one another.\xe2\x80\x99 My dear friends, love and work will bring wealth and\r\nheaven to all dear, precious souls on earth. Cathy dear, Cresto wants to\r\ntell you more about our marriage in Mars.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cThe great, tall, massive, and handsome temple was decorated in long\r\nwhite rosebuds, and pink and white primroses, their fragrance filled the\r\ntemple. The pure white altar was banked with fragrant lillies, mingled\r\nwith cool, delicate ferns. Little above the altar hung a large white\r\ncross of perfect tuberoses, interwoven with tiny white and gold candles;\r\neach little candle was lighted with many-colored lights. Hundreds of our\r\nold friends from India and America were there, singing around Eno, who\r\nwas playing the immense pipe organ; their dear voices sounded as sweetly\r\nas those of the cherubims. The great organ was partly played by\r\nelectricity. After the music the ceremony was performed by a Catholic\r\npriest.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe sailed to our new home in white aluminum airships, decorated with\r\nwhite roses and golden butterflies, and long, narrow white ribbons hung\r\ndown from the airships and floated gracefully in the bright sunlight. My\r\nbeautiful little mother entertained us with music, dancing, and a\r\nperfect feast of fruit, nuts, cakes that looked like snowy ambrosia from\r\nheaven; sweet, sparkling nectar, made from the juice of red grapes\r\nfilled the glasses. The long tables were richly decorated with rosebuds\r\nand light green ferns. Ruth wore her gold crown for the first time; she\r\nwas dressed in her ascension robes and a long white, dainty bridal veil.\r\nThe veil was pinned on her long, heavy curly hair with little diamond\r\nbutterflies which Helios gave her. Ruth was a dream of beauty and looked\r\nabout sixteen,\xe2\x80\x94all are young after their transmission. Friends, our\r\nwedding ceremony was beautiful and very sacred. Our priest was a very\r\nhigh angel, he had once been a Pope of Rome, he was perfect.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cWe had our marriage certificate framed just like your own. That day was\r\na perfect golden day of love and sunshine. That day our souls were\r\noverflowing with joy. Such happiness and love is never experienced on\r\nearth. That beautiful day the birds sang sweeter melodies than ever, the\r\nheavens were brighter, hearts were lighter. Souls were dearer than ever\r\nto us, the music more melodious. We could feel the presence of our dear\r\nSaviour and His Holy Angels sweetly smiling down upon us. All hearts are\r\nlinked together over there in one grand, strong immortal golden chain of\r\neternal love. Perfect pure love is the most sublime emotion that man or\r\nangel ever experienced.\r\n\r\n Saints pray for love, love, love,\r\n To give us sunshine from above;\r\n They hear our prayers with loving smiles,\r\n Tenderly helping in all our trials,\r\n Praying for us to love, love, love.\r\n\r\n The stars are shining love, love, love,\r\n Souls are pining for love, love, love;\r\n Mind is linked to mind as one for all time,\r\n Hearts beat in love-rhythm sublime\r\n Singing love, love, love.\r\n\r\n May we love, love, love,\r\n As they do in stars above;\r\n If we send an earnest prayer from the soul\r\n To own our own, to love and to hold,\r\n God will send us love, love, love.\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n TRANSCRIBER\xe2\x80\x99S NOTE\r\n\r\n\r\n Punctuation has been normalized. Variations in\r\n hyphenation have been retained as they were in the\r\n original publication.\r\n\r\n The author's spelling has been maintained, except in\r\n the following cases:\r\n\r\n _Page_ _Original_ _As Corrected_\r\n 2 MRS. CHARLES WILDER CLASS MRS. CHARLES WILDER GLASS\r\n 8 the buterfly was made the butterfly was made\r\n 8 wonderful buterfly wonderful butterfly\r\n 17 My darling Pesus My darling Persus\r\n 17 we will work to gether we will work together\r\n 20 pricious jewels precious jewels\r\n 24 loveingly and tenderly lovingly and tenderly\r\n 28 to much too much\r\n 39 Artimus used electricity Artemus used electricity\r\n 40 wonderful phychic wonderful psychic\r\n 45 love leter love letter\r\n 47 more vivacous more vivacious\r\n 59 napkins and handerchiefs napkins and handkerchiefs\r\n 52 Divine eHavenly Father Divine Heavenly Father\r\n\r\n Italicized words and phrases are presented by\r\n surrounding the text with _underscores_.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUTH'S MARRIAGE IN MARS: A SCIENTIFIC NOVEL ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Birthright'

'Smith, April'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Birthright\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Birthright\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: April Smith\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Kelly Freas\r\n\r\nRelease date: April 21, 2019 [eBook #59329]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRTHRIGHT ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n BIRTHRIGHT\r\n\r\n BY APRIL SMITH\r\n\r\n _Why was Cyril Kirk, highest man in his\r\n class, assigned to such an enigmatic place\r\n as Nemar? Of what value was it--if anything?\r\n No one could tell him the answer. He\r\n wouldn\'t have believed them...._\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1955.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nCyril Kirk\'s first sight of the planet from the spaceship did nothing\r\nto abate the anger seething within him. He stared at it in disgust,\r\nglad there were no other passengers left to witness his arrival.\r\n\r\nAll during the long trip, he had felt their curious stares and excited\r\nwhispers everywhere he passed, and he had felt a small wave of relief\r\nwhenever a large batch of them had been unloaded on some planet along\r\nthe way. None of them had come this far--which was hardly surprising,\r\nhe thought; the last of them had been taken off two-thirds of the way\r\nto Nemar. He was very glad to see them go, though by that time they had\r\nstopped making their cautious, deferential attempts to draw him into\r\nconversation and elicit some clue about his mission and destination.\r\n\r\nHe had let them wonder. He knew that his aloofness was being taken as\r\nsnobbishness, but he was past caring. They all recognized that he was\r\na Planetary Administrator by the blazing gold insignia on the dark\r\nuniform, insignia calling for awe and respect all over the galaxy. They\r\nguessed that this was his first appointment, but the thing that really\r\naroused their curiosity was the bitter, angry look that went with what\r\nthey considered his arrogant reserve.\r\n\r\nSince polite efforts at conversation by the braver or more confident\r\namong the company were met with icy monosyllables that cut off further\r\nattempts, they were left with a wide range of controversy. Some of them\r\nheld, though they had never actually seen a Planetary Administrator\r\nbefore in the flesh, that all PA\'s were like this. They argued that\r\nthe long, grueling years of study, the ascetic, disciplined life from\r\nchildhood, and the constant pressure of competition, knowing that only\r\na small percentage would finally make the grade, made them kind of\r\ninhuman by the time they finished. Besides, they were near-geniuses\r\nor they wouldn\'t have been selected in the first place--and everybody\r\nknows geniuses are sort of peculiar.\r\n\r\nOne of the bolder and more beautiful girls on board had been argued\r\ninto making a carefully planned attempt to draw information out of him,\r\nand bets had been placed on the results. She was eager enough to try\r\nher hand at this rich prize, and her self-confidence was justified by\r\na long trail of broken hearts in high places, but the attempt came to\r\nnothing. Kirk was aware of her efforts and aware that in another mood\r\nhe would have appreciated her charm, but he felt too sick and miserable\r\nto respond.\r\n\r\nRemembering her piquant, laughing face later in his cabin, Kirk\r\nthought morosely of the long train of girls he had known in the past.\r\nMany of them had been lovely--a fledgling PA was considered a highly\r\ndesirable date, even though the chances were always that he wouldn\'t\r\nmake it in the end. But Kirk had always been filled with an iron\r\ndetermination that he _was_ going to make it in the end, and this meant\r\nno distractions. If he began to feel he might get really emotionally\r\nentangled with a girl, he stopped seeing her at once. He saw them\r\nseldom enough, anyway. The regulations of the PA Institute gave him a\r\nfair amount of free time, but the study requirements made the apparent\r\nfreedom meaningless.\r\n\r\nHow hard he\'d worked for the day he\'d be wearing this uniform, he\r\nthought bitterly. How proud and happy he\'d thought he\'d feel wearing\r\nit! And now, instead, here he was, practically hiding in his cabin,\r\nhoping nobody would discover the name of his destination and guess the\r\nreason for the humiliated rage that was still coursing through him.\r\n\r\nHe\'d gone over the interview with Carlin Ross a hundred times since the\r\ntrip started, and he wasn\'t any nearer to making sense out of it than\r\nwhen he began....\r\n\r\nHe\'d entered Ross\'s office for the interview in which he would be\r\nawarded his post, full of confidence and pride. The final examination\r\nresults posted in the main lobby were headed by his name. He knew that,\r\nbecause of his good record and general popularity, he had been watched\r\nwith special interest by the teachers and staff for some time; and he\r\nlooked forward to being awarded a particularly desirable planet, in\r\nspite of its being his first post.\r\n\r\nTechnical ability and sound training in administration had long ago\r\nbeen decided upon as more important than practical experience, as\r\nmankind began to sicken of the bungling of political appointees. The\r\nfar-flung planets that had been colonized or held an intelligent,\r\nhumanoid population were so numerous that even an experienced Planetary\r\nAdministrator could know very little about each one. Only someone\r\nbrought up on a planet could have a detailed knowledge of it, and it\r\nwas a basic premise of the Galactic Union that governors with a common\r\nupbringing and training on Terra were necessary to keep the varied\r\nparts of the empire from splitting off and becoming alienated from the\r\nrest.\r\n\r\nRoss was one of the half-dozen men in the top echelon governing the\r\ngalaxy and its warring components. His official title was Galactic\r\nCoordinator, and one of his minor duties was the supervision of the\r\nInstitute of Training for Planetary Administration, which had been home\r\nto Kirk for so long. Although he was the Institute\'s official head,\r\nhe was too busy to be seen in its halls more than rarely, but Kirk had\r\nhad several brief talks with him and one long one. He had the feeling\r\nthat Ross had a special interest in him, and this had added to his\r\nanticipation on the fatal day.\r\n\r\nAs he entered the room, Ross looked up, his blue eyes friendly and\r\nalert in the weathered, tanned face. "Hello, Kirk," he said. As always,\r\nthe simple warmth of his smile threw Kirk off guard. It had never\r\nfailed to surprise him the few times he had seen Ross. In this place\r\nof dedicated, serious men, of military crispness of speech, of stiffly\r\nerect carriage, Ross\'s relaxed body and quiet, open expression seemed\r\nstartlingly out of place. Except for the alertness and intelligence\r\nof the eyes, he looked like a country farmer who had wandered in by\r\nmistake. Kirk, and his friends, had more than once wondered how such an\r\nanomaly had risen to the high position of Galactic Coordinator.\r\n\r\nHowever, if his manner left you puzzled, it also made you feel\r\nsurprisingly comfortable, and Kirk had felt relaxed and happy as Ross\r\nmotioned him to a chair. Nothing prepared him for the shock that was to\r\ncome.\r\n\r\nHe remembered the apparent casualness with which Ross had spoken. "I\'m\r\nsending you to Nemar."\r\n\r\nFor a moment Kirk felt blank. The name did not register. His private\r\nspeculations had centered on the question of whether he would be sent\r\nto a thriving, pleasant, habitable planet or to one of those whose\r\nbleak surface contained some newly discovered, highly valuable mineral\r\nand whose struggling colonists lived under pressurized domes. Either\r\ntype could have held the chance to work up to the galactic eminence\r\nand power he had set his heart on. He had been over and over the list\r\nof planets that were due to receive new PA\'s (there was a rotational\r\nsystem of five years, with an additional five years made optional),\r\nand he had a private list of those which, as the star graduate of his\r\nclass, he hoped he might draw. Nemar was not among them.\r\n\r\nHis face stayed blank for a minute as he searched his memory for the\r\nname, and as vague bits of information filtered through to him, his\r\neyes widened in disbelief. "But, sir--" He fumbled for words. "That\'s\r\non the very edge of the galaxy."\r\n\r\nRoss\'s voice was quiet. "Yes, it\'s a long way."\r\n\r\n"But there\'s nothing on it!"\r\n\r\nRoss sounded a little amused. "There are some very nice people on\r\nit--the natives are of the same species as we are, though they look a\r\nlittle different. That means the air is breathable without aids. It\'s\r\nquite a pleasant planet."\r\n\r\n"That\'s not what I mean, sir. I mean there\'s nothing of any value--no\r\nminerals, no artifacts, no valuable plant or animal products." He\r\nsearched his memory for what little he could remember about Nemar from\r\nclasses. He recalled that the planet had been discovered only forty\r\nyears ago by a Survey ship that had gone off course far toward the\r\nouter rim of the galaxy. It had been incorporated into the Galactic\r\nUnion because it was considered dangerous to leave any inhabited planet\r\nfree of control; but it had not been considered a valuable addition. It\r\nwas far off the established trade routes, and seemed to contain nothing\r\nworth the expense of transporting it. "The culture is very primitive,\r\nisn\'t it?" Kirk asked, half thinking aloud.\r\n\r\n"It is so considered," Ross answered.\r\n\r\nThe reply struck Kirk as odd. A sudden hope filled him. Maybe something\r\nnew had been discovered about the place, possibly something that only\r\nRoss and a few of the top command knew about. He threw a sharp glance\r\nat Ross\'s face, but it told him nothing. "I don\'t remember too much\r\nabout the place from class," he ventured.\r\n\r\nRoss rose, and with his incongruously quick, lazy grace strode to the\r\nfiling cabinet along the wall, pulling out documents and pamphlets.\r\nHe plumped them in a pile in front of Kirk. "Most of the factual\r\ninformation we have is in these. You can try the library, too, but I\r\ndoubt if you\'ll find anything more." He added a book to the pile. "This\r\ncovers their language. You\'ll have two months of intensive instruction\r\nin it before you go. You were always good in your language structure\r\ncourses, so I doubt that you\'ll have any trouble with it. You\'ll have\r\nanother two weeks to learn the stuff in these documents, and two more\r\nweeks to rest or do whatever you like before you leave." He resumed\r\nhis chair. "You\'re luckier than some of the others. The boy who got\r\nProserpine will have a stack of books up to there to absorb." He\r\ngestured toward the ceiling.\r\n\r\nAt the mention of Proserpine, Kirk\'s brown eyes darkened. Proserpine\r\nhad been recently discovered, too, but that was all it had in common\r\nwith Nemar. Its inhospitable surface held vast amounts of a highly\r\nvaluable fuel ore, and it had been one of the places on his list. He\r\nwondered who was going there, his insides suddenly twisting with envy.\r\nHe tried to keep his voice even. "I don\'t understand why I\'m being\r\nsent to Nemar." He searched for words. After all, he couldn\'t exactly\r\nmention his graduating first and his record. "Is there something I\r\ndon\'t know about? Has something valuable been discovered that hasn\'t\r\nbeen publicized, or--" He waited hopefully.\r\n\r\nRoss\'s answer was flat. "No, there\'s nothing there that can be\r\ntransported that\'s worth transporting."\r\n\r\nKirk felt despair surging through him, then suddenly changing to sharp\r\nanger. "I\'ve worked hard. I have a good record. Why are you giving me\r\nthis--this lemon? Why don\'t you give it to whoever graduated lowest,\r\nor better still to some older PA who bungled things somewhere, but not\r\nquite enough to be retired!" His face was burning with rage. Somewhere\r\ninside he felt shocked at himself for speaking to a Coordinator this\r\nway; at the same time he felt a violent urge to carry it farther and\r\nsock Ross in the nose. His body was shaking....\r\n\r\nRemembering the scene now as he watched Nemar swing closer, Kirk felt\r\nthe anger again, time hadn\'t dimmed it at all. Ross must have perceived\r\nhis fury, but he had shown no signs of it. Looking as friendly as ever,\r\nhe had told him mildly that he did not consider Nemar a "lemon", that\r\nhe had excellent reasons for sending him there, but he preferred not\r\nto tell him what they were. He wanted him to discover them for himself\r\nafter he arrived. The rest of the interview had concerned itself mainly\r\nwith practical information, most of which Kirk had scarcely heard\r\nthrough his fog of emotion.\r\n\r\nHis endless speculations since then had gotten him nowhere. He had\r\ndredged out of his memory every incident that might reveal some trait\r\nfor which he was being discreetly given a back seat. He recalled a\r\nroommate who had said he was going to become a living machine if he\r\nkept it up, and no machine had the right to have jurisdiction over\r\npeople. But Jere had flunked out along the way, like most candidates\r\nwho had an attitude like that. He went over the time he had been\r\ncalled to Ross\'s office and gently rebuked for working men under him\r\non a project too hard. "I don\'t ask anything from them I don\'t ask of\r\nmyself," he had protested.\r\n\r\n"I know," Ross had answered, "and I respect that. But _you_ work that\r\nhard from choice." Then he had nodded in dismissal.\r\n\r\nKirk had puzzled over these and other incidents, searching for a clue,\r\nbut found nothing. All his probing in a more optimistic direction led\r\nto blind alleys also. The documents on Nemar, all the information he\r\ncould dig up, confirmed Ross\'s statement that the planet held nothing\r\nof commercial value.\r\n\r\nThe planet, to judge by what he had read, was a pleasant place,\r\napparently very pretty, with heavy vegetation and a warm, temperate\r\nclimate, and the natives were hospitable and friendly. But all this\r\nheld very little comfort for him and did little to assuage the sense\r\nof angry humiliation that had made him seek isolation from the other\r\npassengers.\r\n\r\nHe could see the planet more clearly now as the ship began to angle\r\ninto an orbit, preparatory to sending out the smaller landing ship\r\nwhich would take him down. Hastily he reviewed in his mind once more\r\nthe few facts he knew about the place, and shaped his tongue to the\r\nunfamiliar sounds of the native language. He fought down the feeling\r\nof humiliation, and straightened his shoulders. After all, to these\r\npeople, he would be the most important person on the planet. If he was\r\nto be a big frog in a small puddle, he was still supreme administrator\r\nhere, and he had no intention of letting them know his arrival\r\nsignified a disgrace to him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFrom the airlock of the landing ship, Kirk looked out on a cleared\r\nplain. In the foreground a group of natives were gathered to greet him,\r\nand a scattering of dark uniforms among them indicated the officials\r\nwho would make up the Terran part of his staff. As the natives\r\napproached him, he noted the green-gold hair and the slightly greenish\r\ntinge to their skin, for which his studies had prepared him.\r\n\r\nNothing in his studies, however, had prepared him for the extraordinary\r\ngrace and beauty of these people.\r\n\r\nThey were dressed, men and women alike, in a simple fold of\r\nbright-colored cloth circling their body from the waist and reaching\r\na third of the way to their knees. Kirk noted, with a slight sense\r\nof shock, that the women wore nothing above the waist except for a\r\nstrand of woven reeds, interlaced with shells and flowers, which fell\r\nloosely to their breasts. In these brief and primitive garments, the\r\nnatives bore themselves with such imperious grace and assurance that\r\nfor a moment Kirk felt as if his role had been abruptly reversed--as if\r\ninstead of being the powerful representative of a great civilization\r\nto a backward people, he were the humble primitive waiting for their\r\nacceptance.\r\n\r\nOne of the older natives stepped forward from the rest, his palm\r\noutstretched, shoulder high, in greeting. "Welcome to Nemar," he said,\r\nhis glance steady and gracious on Kirk\'s face.\r\n\r\nKirk recognized the words of the native language with surprise. The\r\nclear, musical quality of the native\'s speech made his own words, harsh\r\nand grating by comparison, sound like a different language, as he\r\nreplied. "Thank you. I am very happy to be here."\r\n\r\nAs he spoke, he realized that the lie had for a moment felt almost like\r\ntruth. For a moment he wondered if the planet\'s apparent primitiveness\r\nwas deceptive and if its simplicity concealed a highly developed\r\nculture. But even as the hope surged through him, he remembered Ross\'s\r\nclear and definite statement to the contrary. Besides, there would\r\nbe no point in keeping a thing like that secret from the rest of the\r\ngalaxy, even if it could be done. Such a culture, moreover, would\r\ncertainly have things of value to trade.\r\n\r\nAs these thoughts coursed through his mind, one of the Terrans stepped\r\nforward from the crowd. The insignia on his uniform were the same as\r\nhis own, and he realized, with a surge of curiosity, that this must be\r\nhis predecessor.\r\n\r\nThe man reached forward to shake his hand. "Hello. The name\'s Jerwyn."\r\nHis tanned face was open and friendly, and reminded Kirk curiously of\r\nsomeone; he couldn\'t remember who. "Glad to see you."\r\n\r\nI\'ll bet you are, Kirk thought: your gain, my loss. "Greetings from\r\nTerra," he replied, somewhat stiffly. "Cyril Kirk." He tried to keep\r\nhis vague disapproval of Jerwyn\'s breezy informality out of his voice.\r\nIt was hard to realize this man was also a Planetary Administrator.\r\nHe seemed to have lost completely the look of authority that was the\r\nlifelong mark of the PA graduate.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter the various introductions and a short period of conversation,\r\nKirk found himself seated beside Jerwyn in the small ground vehicle\r\nwhich was to take him to his headquarters. Jerwyn immediately resumed\r\nthe standard Galactic-Terran language, which he had dropped during the\r\nintroductions. "As soon as I show you around a bit, I\'ll be off on the\r\nlanding ship you came in. I wonder how Terra will seem after all this\r\ntime."\r\n\r\n"Five years is a long time," Kirk ventured.\r\n\r\n"Ten."\r\n\r\nKirk stared at him in astonishment. "You took the optional five years!\r\nWhy in heaven would anyone--" He broke off suddenly. The question might\r\nbe one Jerwyn would not care to answer. He threw him a speculative\r\nglance, wondering why he had been sent here and whether he, too, was\r\nbitter. Maybe a poor record, or something in his past he didn\'t care to\r\ngo back to...? That didn\'t fit in his own case--but then there was no\r\nknowing what did fit in his own case. Jerwyn had an alert, perceptive\r\nlook that indicated considerable intelligence, but still he somehow\r\nlooked inadequate. Some quality an Administrator should have was\r\nlacking ... dignity? drive?\r\n\r\nJerwyn\'s voice interrupted his thoughts. "Beautiful, isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\nThe groundcar had left the plain and was entering a heavily wooded\r\nsection. For the first time, Kirk took a good look at his surroundings.\r\nSome of the trees and plants were very like those he had seen in parks\r\nat home. Still, there was a definitely alien feel to it all. The trees\r\nwere low and wide and had peculiar contours, different from those\r\nof trees on Terra, and their flowering foliage came in odd sizes and\r\ncolors. The sky wasn\'t quite the blue he was used to, and the shapes\r\nof the clouds were different. He noticed for the first time a heady,\r\npungent perfume carried on the breeze, that was both pleasant and\r\nstimulating. It came, perhaps, from the wide-petaled flowers in oddly\r\nshimmering colors that clustered thickly everywhere.\r\n\r\n"Yes, it\'s beautiful," he agreed, "but--" The feeling of despair and\r\nfrustration welled up in him again. The warmth he sensed in Jerwyn made\r\nhim suddenly long to blurt out the whole story. He controlled himself\r\nwith difficulty, as he turned toward him. "It\'s pretty enough. It might\r\nmake a good vacation resort if it weren\'t on the edge of nowhere." His\r\npent-up emotion exploded as he spoke. "But five years in this hole! I\'d\r\nfeel a hell of a lot better if I were looking at some rocky, barren\r\nlandscape with some mines on it--with _something_ of value on it--with\r\na name somebody\'d heard of, where you could hope to get somewhere. I\r\ndon\'t want to waste five years here!" He paused for breath, staring\r\nangrily at the lush landscape. "And for that matter, life on one of\r\nthose planets where you live under domes, with a sealed-in atmosphere,\r\nis probably a lot more civilized and convenient than in this primitive\r\njungle."\r\n\r\nJerwyn nodded slowly, an unspoken compassion in his face. "I know how\r\nyou\'re feeling." He paused. "And it does seem pretty primitive here at\r\nfirst--no automatic precipitrons for cleaning your clothes, natural\r\nfoods instead of synthetics, no aircars, no automatic dispensers for\r\nfood or drinks or clothes; none of a hundred things you take for\r\ngranted till you don\'t have them. But you get used to it. There are\r\nthings to make up--" He broke off as the car began to descend into a\r\nvalley. "Look!" His voice held an odd tone of affection. "There\'s your\r\nnew home."\r\n\r\nKirk gazed downward at the settlement nested in the valley below them.\r\nHe fished in his pocket for a magnascope to bring the view nearer and\r\nstared curiously, as the lens adjusted to the distance. He picked out\r\ngroups of buildings, low units of some coarse, natural material, widely\r\nspaced. This was the largest city on the planet, he knew, but it seemed\r\nto be little more than a village. It was undoubtedly primitive--very\r\nprimitive. Remembering the magnificent high buildings of Terra, he was\r\nfilled with sudden homesickness for the speeding sidewalks crowded with\r\npeople, the skylanes humming with aircars.\r\n\r\nTurning the magnascope here and there, he kept his gaze trained on the\r\ntown beneath him, studying it now in more detail. Slowly, some of his\r\ndepression began to leave him, and he felt a strange sense of warmth\r\nbegin to take its place. He stepped up the power of the glass till he\r\ncould see the inhabitants walking in the streets. Like the natives who\r\nhad met him at the landing ship, they walked with a beautiful, easy\r\ngrace, a sumptuous ease that seemed somehow almost a rebuke of his own\r\nstiffly correct military posture. They gave an impression of combined\r\nleisure and vitality.\r\n\r\nGradually, as he watched, an odd feeling of nostalgia began to stir in\r\nhim, an old, childish longing. He remembered suddenly a dream he had\r\nhad years ago, in which he had run laughing through green meadows with\r\na lovely girl. He had fought against waking from it and returning to\r\nhis desk piled high with books and his ascetically furnished room.\r\n\r\nHe blinked his eyes and put down the magnascope. "Rather attractive, in\r\na way," he said grudgingly to Jerwyn. He settled back slowly into his\r\nseat.\r\n\r\n"Just the same," he added, annoyed at himself for his sentimental\r\nlapse, "how have you managed to stand it all this time? I still can\'t\r\nfigure how I came to get it in the neck like this." Abruptly, he\r\nplunged into the words he had been holding back, telling the whole\r\nstory of his confusion to Jerwyn.\r\n\r\nHe rationalized to himself that perhaps Jerwyn could help him solve the\r\nmystery. At least he might tell him how he himself came to be sent to\r\nNemar, without his having to ask directly; and this might give him a\r\nclue.\r\n\r\n"I\'ve been over the whole business a million times, trying to figure\r\nit out," he concluded. "Somebody with pull must have had it in for me.\r\nBut who? And why? I never had any real run-ins with Ross. In fact,\r\nI\'d always thought he liked me." He scowled. "Of course, he gives\r\npractically everybody that impression. Maybe he\'s just a professional\r\nglad-hander, though he certainly doesn\'t seem like it." He shook his\r\nhead. "Maybe that\'s the secret of his success; I never could figure\r\nout how he got where he is. He certainly doesn\'t seem typical of the\r\ncommand. Oh, he\'s brilliant enough, but there\'s a quality about him I\'d\r\nalmost call--weak, I guess. Unsuitable for his post, anyway. He treats\r\nthe janitor the same as--"\r\n\r\nKirk stopped abruptly. He suddenly had the answer to the question that\r\nhad been nagging at the edge of his mind: it was Ross that Jerwyn\r\nreminded him of.\r\n\r\nTrying to cover up his confusion, he went on rapidly, hoping Jerwyn\r\nwould not notice. "Anyway, whatever his reasons were, he\'s played me\r\na dirty trick, and if there\'s ever any way I can pay him back for it,\r\nI\'ll do it. I\'ll have five years to think about it. Me! The fair-haired\r\nboy of the Institute! On my way to the top!" His face flushed with\r\nresentment. "Sent to sweat out five years in this Godforsaken place\r\nwith a bunch of savages hardly evolved out of the jungle!" He passed\r\nhis hand over his forehead, wiping off sweat, feeling the full force of\r\nhis pent-up anguish and rage flood through him.\r\n\r\nJerwyn spoke very quickly. "I felt pretty much the same way when I was\r\nsent here. But I feel differently now. I could try to explain. But I\r\ndon\'t think it\'s a good idea. I don\'t think anyone could have explained\r\nto me. This is a place you\'ve got to live in; you can\'t be told about\r\nit." He shifted in his seat as a small group of buildings came into\r\nview. "As for Ross--well, he was responsible for my being sent here,\r\ntoo, and I spent some time when I first came, thinking of ways to cut\r\nhis body in little pieces and throw them in a garbage pulverizer--but I\r\nwouldn\'t waste my time if I were you. I know now he had his reasons."\r\nAs he spoke the car pulled to a stop. "Well, here we are. This is where\r\nyou\'ll be living and working."\r\n\r\nJerwyn stayed with Kirk while he was shown through various buildings.\r\nHe found most of the office buildings full of bright murals and\r\nlittle watered patios, but lacking the simplest devices for working\r\nefficiency. He was introduced to various officials, Terran and\r\nNemarian. Some of the latter, to his surprise, were women--a rare\r\nphenomenon for a primitive planet, he remembered from his classes.\r\n\r\nBy the time the touring was over and he had said goodbye to Jerwyn, he\r\nwas too tired to do more than glance briefly at the quarters to which\r\nhe was shown. Left alone in his rooms, he took a quick, awkward bath,\r\ntoo weary to feel more than a brief annoyance at the lack of automatic\r\nbuttons for temperature controls, soaping, and drying, and fell\r\nexhausted on the low bed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFor a moment, as he woke, Kirk could not remember where he was.\r\nDrowsiness mingled with a sense of eeriness at the sound of long\r\nbird-calls unlike any on Terra and the unfamiliar rustling of leaves;\r\nthe rays from the late afternoon sun seemed too crimson.\r\n\r\nThen, as sleep fell from his eyes, he remembered. He glanced at the\r\nwindow above his bed from which the orange light filtered into the room\r\nand saw it was completely open to the outside air. Something would have\r\nto done about that, he thought grimly, or he\'d never be able to sleep\r\nwith an easy mind. There were always people, sooner or later, who hated\r\nyou if you had power; or if they didn\'t hate you, they at least wanted\r\nyou out of commission for one reason or another.\r\n\r\nHe sat up to take a better look at the room he had been too tired to\r\ninvestigate before. There were mats of woven reeds, and low carved\r\nchests, and flowers; the walls were clean and glimmering, and bare\r\nexcept for a single picture of two young native children. He got up\r\nand walked over to look at it more closely. A boy of about seven was\r\nholding his arm out to a girl, slightly younger, to help her on to\r\nthe low, swaying branch on which he was sitting. The picture was full\r\nof sunshine and green leaves and happiness, and you could feel the\r\ntrusting softness of her arms reaching up to him. An odd picture, Kirk\r\nthought. The children looked childlike enough, but the emotions looked\r\nadult.\r\n\r\nAs he looked at it, he heard a soft, swishing sound in the next room,\r\nand stiffened. There was no lock on the door, he noticed. Well, it was\r\ntime to get up, anyway. He dressed hurriedly, trying to remember the\r\nlayout of his rooms. Except for the bathroom, he recalled only one\r\nother room, a sort of arbored porch, one side completely open to the\r\nair, with a low table and some cooking equipment at one end.\r\n\r\nAs he opened the door, a faint whisk of something made of reeds went\r\nout of sight. A primitive broom, he thought, with a faint sense\r\nof relief. Some servant was tidying the house. He opened the door\r\nfurther--and stared.\r\n\r\nA native girl was standing before him. She was extraordinarily lovely.\r\nThe gold-green hair of her race rippled and flowed in waves over her\r\nbare back and shoulders down to the circlet of vermilion cloth girdling\r\nher thighs. The band of small shells that circled her throat was netted\r\nwith wide orange and red flowers that half-hid, half-disclosed the\r\nfirm naked breasts. The light brown, gold-flecked eyes beneath the\r\ngold-green eyebrows were soft; so was the tender mouth, rose-colored\r\nagainst the flawless skin, with its undertones of faint green. Her\r\nbody, too, looked soft and yielding, but was borne with imperious grace\r\nthat somehow dignified even the broom held loosely now in one delicate\r\nhand.\r\n\r\nKirk stared at this vision of beauty, taken by surprise, and found\r\nhimself caught up in sudden desire. She was like something out of a\r\ndream. He tried to get hold of himself.\r\n\r\nYou\'re just not used to half-nude women, he told himself. You\'re used\r\nto girls in uniforms, crisp, businesslike uniforms. A wild suspicion\r\ncaught at the edge of his mind. He didn\'t know anything about this\r\nplanet, really--except that there was something he didn\'t know. Maybe\r\nthey made a practice of diverting their rulers with beautiful women.\r\nShe certainly didn\'t look like a servant. He smiled at the thought\r\nthat came to him: this servant was the first indication of the luxury\r\nbefitting a Planetary Administrator. The thought enabled him to gain\r\ncontrol of himself again. He regained a semblance of his customary\r\nreserved look.\r\n\r\n"Good afternoon," he said, in the native language.\r\n\r\nShe smiled and held out her hand.\r\n\r\nHe hesitated, then held out his own awkwardly. Did one shake hands with\r\none\'s servants here? He wished he\'d asked Jerwyn for more advice about\r\nprotocol.\r\n\r\nShe took his hand and pressed it lightly for a moment. "I am Nanae."\r\nHer voice was low and musical. "I am going to clean and take care of\r\nyour house."\r\n\r\nShe turned and with exquisite precision gestured toward the low table\r\nand cooking equipment at the end of the room. "I thought you would be\r\nwaking soon. I have prepared some _jen_ for you."\r\n\r\n_Jen?_ he thought. Oh, yes, a very light stimulant--the local variety\r\nof tea. He walked over to the low table and sat down, fighting the\r\nimpulse to enter into conversation with her. He watched her as she\r\npoured the hot liquid into wide cups of polished gourd, her hair\r\nradiant about her shoulders. A stab of longing shot through him. The\r\nlong years of training in the Institute paraded through his mind, the\r\nyears of strict routine, hard work, ascetic, bare rooms, with women\r\nconsidered playthings that took too much time from needed study; the\r\nonly beauty was the dream of power among the glittering stars.\r\n\r\nWell, he wasn\'t going to give up and forget the dream, he told\r\nhimself--and he wasn\'t going to be led astray by any pretty girls,\r\nparticularly a maid. Hell, he thought suddenly, maybe Ross is testing\r\nme. Maybe he picked the worst planet in the whole damn galaxy to find\r\nout if I could do something with it. It\'s obvious if I can get this\r\nplace on the trademaps, I can handle anything.\r\n\r\nHe looked speculatively at the girl as she pushed the cup toward him.\r\nHe wondered how she came by her job. Did they hold beauty contests\r\nhere for the honor of being cleaning woman in the PA\'s household? He\r\nrealized he was feeling more cheerful. The _jen_ and the soothing\r\nquietness of the girl\'s presence were doing him good. He felt a\r\nresurgence of his old energy and ambition that the interview with Ross\r\nhad quelled for so long.\r\n\r\n"Did you work for Jerwyn, too?" he asked. Yes, his voice was just\r\nright, courteous, but not too friendly, he thought.\r\n\r\n"No, but I knew him." She looked at him with an odd smile. "He became\r\none of our best dancers."\r\n\r\n"Dancers!" Kirk stared at her in amazement. He started to open his\r\nmouth, then stopped. He\'d better not ask any more questions till he\'d\r\nhad a chance to talk to some Terrans. Apparently, Jerwyn had gone\r\nnative. Maybe it was his way of rebelling against being sent here in\r\nthe first place--and he\'d let himself go so far that he\'d skipped his\r\nchance of reassignment at the end of the first five years, afraid of\r\nthe problems of a new post after being a beachcomber for so long. That\r\nwould account for the curious lack of deference he\'d found in all these\r\npeople. They were friendly enough, but they lacked proper respect for\r\nhis position. You weren\'t supposed to be friendly to a PA; you were\r\nsupposed to be humbly polite. He recalled the respect and awe he\'d\r\nreceived on the ship.\r\n\r\nAs he finished his cup, he realized he was very hungry. He looked\r\naround instinctively for food. He had enough synthetics in his bags\r\nto do him for awhile, but he might as well make the plunge and start\r\neating the native foods right away. No use coddling himself.\r\n\r\nThe girl noticed the look. "I didn\'t prepare food for you because\r\ndinner will be served in just a little while. We eat all together, down\r\nby the river. You will hear drums to announce when the meal is ready,\r\nand you get there by walking to the end of that path." She pointed a\r\ndelicate finger at a small foot-path winding by a few yards from where\r\nhe sat.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nComing out of the little forest at the end of the path, Kirk paused\r\nto take in the scene. Between him and the river was a wild jumble of\r\nmen and women, laughing and talking, children running and stumbling\r\nover small pet animals, piles of nuts and fruits and hot foods heaped\r\ntogether beside small fires. Some of the people sat on straw mats, but\r\nmost, simply on the ground. There were neither tables nor chairs. To\r\nKirk it looked like utter confusion.\r\n\r\nWith a sense of gratitude, he saw a tall, uniformed figure coming up\r\nto him, with a brisk, definite stride. The Terran\'s face was lined and\r\nfirm, the kind of face Kirk was familiar with. The man with this face\r\nwould be a man who stood for no nonsense, a man who was a little tough,\r\nbut also fair and capable. He recognized him as he came closer.\r\n\r\n"Hello, sir. I\'m Matt Cortland, your second in command," he said\r\nbrusquely. "I met you this afternoon, but you met so many people then\r\nit must have been just a blur of names and faces."\r\n\r\nKirk greeted him, feeling a sense of satisfaction that this man would\r\nbe his chief assistant. He looked efficient; he should be able to help\r\nhim learn the ropes and get a program of action started.\r\n\r\n"No chairs," Cortland said laconically, as they walked toward the\r\ngathering. He chose a soft spot of lavender-tinted moss near a pile of\r\nhot food and sat down, cross-legged. Awkwardly, Kirk sat down beside\r\nhim, folding his legs under him stiffly. "You can be served in your\r\nrooms, of course, if you like," Cortland went on, turning to him.\r\n"These people are very obliging. Very obliging." He reached for two\r\nof the leaf-wrapped, steaming objects, handing one to Kirk. "But you\r\nprobably have a better chance of influencing them if you eat among\r\nthem. If they can be influenced." He opened the leaf and bit into the\r\nyellow vegetable inside.\r\n\r\nKirk looked dubiously at the object in his hand. He hoped it wouldn\'t\r\nmake him sick. Pushing back his sense of disgust, he bit into it\r\ncarefully. The bland, sweetish flavor filled him with delightful\r\nsurprise. It was rather like a mixture of sweet potato, carrot, and\r\npeach synthetics--but the texture and flavor were new and wonderful.\r\nMaybe civilization had lost something good when it gave up natural\r\nfoods. Though, of course, their preparation was time-wasting and\r\ninefficient, he reminded himself; and swallowing synthetics required\r\nonly a momentary break in your work when you were pressed for time. He\r\nlooked up and found Cortland watching him.\r\n\r\n"Pretty different from the food at home, eh?" He had slipped into the\r\nTerran language. "Good food and pretty girls." He gestured toward the\r\ngraceful, half-nude women scattered along the mossy bank. "Everything\r\nfor the lotus-eaters."\r\n\r\nThe phrase meant nothing to Kirk.\r\n\r\nOne of the girls came over to them with a large gourd full of fruit and\r\nnuts, and another on which she heaped hot foods from the piles on the\r\nground as she passed. She placed them on the ground beside the two men.\r\n\r\n"Yes, everything for the lotus-eaters," Cortland repeated.\r\n"Incidentally, I hope you\'re not under the impression that that girl is\r\nnaked from the waist up."\r\n\r\nKirk looked at him questioningly.\r\n\r\n"Oh, no. She\'s completely covered. They have taboos about naked\r\nbreasts, just like we do." He laughed at Kirk\'s look of mystification.\r\n"You notice those strands of shells or woven reeds they wear around\r\ntheir necks?"\r\n\r\nKirk looked around. They all wore them.\r\n\r\n"Well, that signifies they are dressed. If you ever see a native girl\r\nwithout one, she\'ll be terribly embarrassed." He stuck his hand out\r\ntoward the bowl of hot food. "After you\'ve been here long enough you\'ll\r\nthink they\'re dressed, too."\r\n\r\nHe laughed, then looked more serious.\r\n\r\n"I\'ve been here a long time, getting nowhere," he said, in a different\r\ntone. "There are a lot of things that could be done here. I\'ve spent\r\na lot of time thinking about it. But Jerwyn--" He hesitated. "I hope\r\n_you_ intend to make the name of the Galactic Union mean something\r\nhere."\r\n\r\nKirk nodded, and Cortland went on. "Jerwyn tried when he first came.\r\nBut after awhile he seemed to just give up. I couldn\'t do anything\r\nwithout him backing me, I don\'t have enough authority." He looked grim\r\nas he spoke. "And besides that, it takes more than one good man. Oh,\r\nthe other GU men here are capable enough--" He glanced toward a group\r\nof Terrans sitting nearby. "They\'ll be over in a little while to speak\r\nto you, incidentally; I asked them to hold off for a little, while I\r\nbriefed you a bit--no sense deluging you with new people while you\'re\r\ntrying to eat."\r\n\r\n"But to get back," he went on, "they\'re capable enough, or they were\r\nonce, anyway, but none of them has the drive and brains it takes to\r\npush through a project to develop this planet. They\'ve pretty well\r\ngiven up. Some of them like it here and some of them don\'t, but they\'ve\r\nall stopped trying." A look of contempt crossed his face. "They\r\ngo through the motions of doing some work to earn their salaries,\r\nknock off at noon, and spend their time lying around on the beaches\r\nwith Nemarian girls. I\'ve done what I could to keep a semblance of\r\ndiscipline, but it\'s uphill work."\r\n\r\nKirk looked at him steadily. "All that\'s going to be changed."\r\n\r\nCortland smiled. "Good." Their eyes met, with understanding.\r\n\r\n"And I\'m very happy to have a man of your caliber with me," Kirk said\r\nquietly.\r\n\r\nCortland gave him a long look. "Maybe you\'ve got what it takes. Maybe\r\nyou have." He nodded slowly. "I should have told you I don\'t entirely\r\nblame the men. This planet\'s a tough nut to crack." His voice was grim.\r\n\r\nKirk felt a vague uneasiness, but his look stayed determined. "We\'ll\r\ncrack it."\r\n\r\n"We\'ve been here forty years, and we haven\'t made a dent. They\'re funny\r\npeople, these Nemarians. They\'re really alien. I\'ve been here fifteen\r\nyears, and I don\'t understand them any better than when I came."\r\n\r\n"That\'s quite a statement."\r\n\r\n"They\'re very appealing. Naive. Childlike. The soul of courtesy--on\r\nthe surface. But it\'s deceptive. And you could spend a lifetime trying\r\nto find out what\'s underneath."\r\n\r\nA young boy of about twelve came up as he spoke, setting a large gourd\r\nfull of steaming liquid down beside them with lithe grace, filling\r\nsmaller cups from it as he did so. Cortland nodded at him, turning\r\nagain to Kirk as the boy walked away. "Even their children aren\'t\r\nreally childlike. Did you see his eyes--makes you damned uncomfortable."\r\n\r\nAs Kirk started to answer, drum-beats began to fill the air, first\r\nsoftly, then louder. Strange sounds from unfamiliar instruments began\r\nto mingle with them, and a clear, high instrument added a melody. The\r\nwhole effect had an alien, discordant quality for Kirk, but as he\r\nlistened further he grew intrigued and began to enjoy it; a mood--happy\r\nand romantic and energetic, all at once--came through to him from the\r\nmusic.\r\n\r\n"The dancing\'s beginning," Cortland informed him.\r\n\r\nKirk saw young men and women rise by ones and two\'s and begin swaying\r\nand turning their bodies to the music. They all seemed to be doing\r\ndifferent things, and yet somehow it made an integrated pattern. To his\r\nsurprise older people and even young children gradually joined in, and\r\nmanaged not to look inappropriate, although the dance movements were\r\nrapid and strenuous.\r\n\r\nHe noticed a sweet, pungent odor filling his nostrils and realized\r\nit came from the steaming bowl beside them. He picked up one of the\r\nfilled cups and tried it cautiously. It was delightful. He emptied it\r\nand poured another.\r\n\r\nHe felt Cortland\'s hand on his arm, and looked up to find him grinning\r\nat him. "Hey, take it easy with that stuff. That\'s fermented kara\r\nroot--the local variety of booze. They can drink quarts of the stuff\r\nand be all right; I\'ve never seen one of them really drunk. But you\'d\r\nbetter not try it."\r\n\r\nKirk frowned. "Something different in our metabolism? I thought--"\r\n\r\n"No, they\'re quite human," Cortland broke in. "And it\'s not a matter\r\nof immunity. I wondered about it for a long time--and got quite\r\ndisgracefully drunk a couple of times, keeping up with them, before I\r\nfigured it out." He sipped at his own cup. "No, the secret of their\r\nsuccess is the dancing."\r\n\r\nKirk looked at the light, whirling figures, puzzled.\r\n\r\nCortland smiled at his bewilderment. "It\'s the exercise. It burns\r\nup the alcohol as fast as they drink it. When they\'re having a real\r\nfeast, they dance and drink all night, till they collapse from pure\r\nexhaustion. They wake up feeling fine--not a sign of a hangover. Of\r\ncourse, tonight they\'ll only dance for a little while, so they\'ll only\r\ndrink a little...."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Sensible, aren\'t they?" The voice came out of the air behind them,\r\nsardonic, feminine. The language was Terran.\r\n\r\nKirk whirled and peered through the dusk, which was gathering rapidly.\r\nHe saw a slightly amused pair of brown eyes, brunette hair, and a trim\r\nbody dressed in chic good taste in expensive Terran clothes.\r\n\r\nCortland stood up. "Mrs. Sherrin ... our new Planetary Administrator,\r\nCyril Kirk."\r\n\r\nShe lowered herself to the ground, spreading out a small mat under her\r\nas she did so. "Jeannette, if you don\'t mind." She folded her legs\r\nunder her carefully. "I don\'t mean to be disrespectful. But there\'s\r\nsuch a small number of us here, we need to be friends and stick\r\ntogether."\r\n\r\nCortland, who had been looking away for a moment turned to them. "If\r\nyou\'ll excuse me, someone wants to talk to me." Kirk nodded.\r\n\r\n"Did I meet your husband this afternoon?" he inquired politely, as\r\nCortland strode off.\r\n\r\n"No; I\'m a widow."\r\n\r\n"Oh, I\'m sorry," he murmured.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be. Not for me, I mean. We\'d been coming to a parting of the\r\nways for a long time. But let\'s not talk about that. How do you like\r\nthe dancing?"\r\n\r\nHe looked at the firelit figures, whirling in the growing dusk. "I\r\ndon\'t know. I\'m sort of overwhelmed by everything. It\'s all so new.\r\nI\'ve heard so many confusing things--"\r\n\r\nShe nodded. "If you manage to make sense out of the Nemarians, you\'ll\r\nmake history. It\'s better not to worry about it too much. Immerse\r\nyourself in their gay, happy life."\r\n\r\n"What do you mean?"\r\n\r\nShe gave him a sharp look. "You\'ll find out what I mean. Didn\'t\r\nCortland tell you?"\r\n\r\n"What are you talking about?"\r\n\r\n"Well, you might as well go in cold at that. Form your own conclusions\r\nas you go along. No use giving you prejudices before you start. Maybe\r\nyou\'re the man who\'ll cut the Gordian knot. No use telling you it can\'t\r\nbe done."\r\n\r\n"What can\'t be done?"\r\n\r\n"We\'ll all be rooting for you." She poured herself a drink and downed\r\nit quickly. "Great stuff, this. Makes you forget the petty annoyances\r\nof the garden-spot of the galaxy." She poured another. "To Nemar," she\r\nsaid, lifting it. "Now tell me about Terra. What\'s been happening back\r\nhome?"\r\n\r\nHe could get nothing more out of her.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nKirk struggled to control his irritation as the last Nemarian on his\r\nlist walked in, poised and self-confident, casually unconcerned about\r\nhis lateness. Something would have to be done about their sloppiness\r\nand lack of discipline, but now wasn\'t the time. It wouldn\'t do to lose\r\nhis temper at the first official meeting he called.\r\n\r\nFirst he needed to stir some ambition in them, prod them out of their\r\nlethargy.\r\n\r\nHe looked around at the assembled members of his joint Terran-Nemarian\r\nstaff. The Terran members were making an attempt to stand stiffly at\r\nattention, somewhat awkwardly as though they were out of practice. They\r\nthrew rather disconcerted looks at his stern, impassive young face.\r\nThe Nemarians stood casually erect or lounged against the wall.\r\n\r\nOnce more, he found himself troubled by a faint sense of incongruity.\r\nSomething about these natives was not primitive. Without saying a word,\r\njust by standing and looking at him, they made him feel awkward and\r\ninsecure.\r\n\r\nHe straightened his shoulders and tried to make his expression even\r\nmore stern. He wished he looked older.\r\n\r\nA sense of the power of his position overwhelmed him for a moment.\r\n\r\nHe glanced at the speech he\'d prepared, then at the faces before\r\nhim. Slowly he pushed it aside. Somehow he couldn\'t use those formal\r\nsentences with these people. Diplomatic phrases didn\'t sound right in\r\nNemarian.\r\n\r\n"Good morning," he said abruptly. "I won\'t waste time on\r\npreliminaries." He paused. "I\'ve only been here a day, but so far I\'ve\r\nseen very few signs of Terran influence--a more or less obsolete type\r\nof ground transportation, a few tools and household conveniences, some\r\nart objects. Very little else. I don\'t fully understand why conditions\r\nare so backward here on Nemar when it has been part of the Galactic\r\nUnion for forty years."\r\n\r\nThe Terrans in the group stirred uneasily.\r\n\r\n"The important thing, however, is that the situation be changed so that\r\nNemar may be given the benefits of galactic culture."\r\n\r\nHe paused and looked around. The natives were listening courteously\r\nand looking slightly bored. The Terrans looked uneasy or embarrassed.\r\n\r\n"What prevents this change," he went on, "is the fact that there is\r\nnothing of value to export." He leaned forward. "But I don\'t believe\r\nthat this or any planet can possess nothing of value. It\'s simply a\r\nmatter of finding it. It\'s a matter of looking into new places, with\r\nnew techniques, or for new things. If a sufficiently thorough search\r\nis made, something will turn up." He tried to ignore the signs of\r\nrestlessness in his audience.\r\n\r\n"I\'m going to organize research groups for this purpose immediately.\r\nEach of you will head a committee to investigate the possibilities\r\nin a particular field--fuels, plants, animal products, etc. You will\r\nbring the reports to me, and I will check them and indicate further\r\ndirections of search."\r\n\r\nHe continued, outlining his plans in detail, stressing the great\r\nadvantages to be gained, the wonderful things galactic culture had\r\nto offer them--the marvelous machines and labor-saving devices, the\r\nrich fabrics and jewels, the vidar entertainments, the whole fabulous\r\ntechnology of a great, advanced civilization. He spoke with enthusiasm,\r\nbut as he continued, a growing sense of apprehension began to creep\r\ninto his energetic, determined mood.\r\n\r\nSomething was wrong with their reactions.\r\n\r\nHe puzzled over it as he watched them file out of the room after he\r\nfinished. The voice of one of his younger subordinates drifted back to\r\nhim from the hall outside: "Made me homesick for good old Terra. I\'d\r\ngive a lot to see a good vidar-show right now...." Cortland pressed his\r\narm lightly as he passed, nodding his approval of the proceedings.\r\n\r\nOne of the Terrans lingered a moment as the last of the group left. His\r\nexpression was serious. "I\'d like you to know that I\'m all for you,\r\nsir, and I\'m glad to see a man of your stature in the PA\'s office," he\r\nsaid nervously. "I hope we\'ll see some changes in the attitude of these\r\nNemarians. I\'ve never liked their attitude." He ran a hand through his\r\nsandy-colored hair. "They\'re funny people, sir. You\'ve only been here\r\na day, and nobody may have warned you yet. They\'re very courteous, but\r\ndon\'t let it fool you. You\'re going to have trouble with them."\r\n\r\nKirk looked after him as he followed the others out, a sense of\r\nconfusion and discouragement beginning to settle over him. He wandered\r\nslowly into the flowered patio adjoining the office.\r\n\r\nThe reaction of the Nemarian officials was the strangest. They had\r\nshown no open opposition. On the other hand, there had certainly been\r\nno cheering. Their attitude had been one of courteous interest, plus\r\nsome quality he couldn\'t quite define. He searched for the right\r\nword ... something almost like compassion, as if they were humoring a\r\nchild\'s enthusiasm for a naive, impractical project.\r\n\r\nHe sat down by a clump of blue-green flowers. Maybe he was just nervous\r\nbecause of his inexperience, he thought. He\'d had plenty of practice\r\nexperience (supervised, of course), but it was a different matter\r\nmanaging an isolated planet, completely on his own. And he\'d had the\r\nbad luck to come after a guy who\'d apparently let discipline go to\r\npieces. Maybe it was just the newness of the whole thing. Maybe--\r\n\r\nBut he knew better.\r\n\r\nHe had given them a good, efficient, well-organized plan of action.\r\nThey should have been impressed--impressed and respectful. They should\r\nhave been grateful he was plunging so enthusiastically into an effort\r\nto improve their situation. They should have been excited and hopeful.\r\n\r\nThere was something strange here, something he didn\'t understand.\r\n\r\nHe knew so little about Nemar.\r\n\r\nThe Terrans in the group had not reacted as they should have, either,\r\nhe thought. Some of them had shown the sort of reaction he expected,\r\nbut most of them had remained quiet, too quiet, with a peculiar,\r\ntolerant look. As if they knew something he didn\'t.\r\n\r\nThere was something disturbing about their whole manner. They were\r\nrespectful and deferential, but not quite respectful enough. Their\r\nattitude was just a shade too casual. Something was wrong.\r\n\r\nThey even looked different, somehow, from the usual Terran on space\r\nduty. The dedicated look was gone and a softness had crept in.\r\n\r\nSomehow, the planet had infected them.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe clear-eyed old Nemarian he\'d been talking to had just turned away\r\nwhen she came up.\r\n\r\n"Good evening. How do you like bird\'s eggs a la Nemar?" Jeannette\r\npointed to the shells beside him.\r\n\r\n"Hello. They\'re very good." He motioned her to sit down.\r\n\r\n"The youngsters here gather them out of the trees. They make a sport of\r\nit." She reached for one from the pile near them and tapped it open.\r\n"Sentimental creatures--they always leave one or two so the mother bird\r\nwon\'t be unhappy."\r\n\r\nKirk was trying to draw his eyes away from the young Nemarian mother in\r\nthe group near him who was complacently nursing her baby in full view\r\nof everyone. Jeannette stared in the direction of his look.\r\n\r\n"Oh, you\'ll get used to that soon enough."\r\n\r\nHe wondered if he would. They made a rather touching picture, though,\r\nhe realized through his embarrassment. There was a lot of tenderness in\r\nthe woman\'s gestures.\r\n\r\n"They spoil their children rotten."\r\n\r\nKirk looked surprised. "The ones I\'ve seen have been very courteous."\r\n\r\nShe shrugged. "Oh, they\'re polite enough. But just try and make them do\r\nsomething they don\'t want to! They\'re completely undisciplined--they\'re\r\nfed when they please, they sleep when they please, they do whatever\r\nthey like. They have schools for them, but it\'s completely up to the\r\nchildren whether they want to go or not. The parents haven\'t a thing to\r\nsay about it. No one ever lays a hand to them, no matter what they do."\r\n\r\n"I haven\'t noticed any quarreling," he said, surprised at his own\r\nobservation. It was true. He hadn\'t seen a sign of it, even between the\r\nchildren themselves, though they made enough noise yelling and romping.\r\n\r\n"Oh, those tactics fit them perfectly for this society," she said\r\nindifferently. "The adults here are just like the children. Nobody ever\r\ndoes any work."\r\n\r\n"But that\'s impossible. The food, the houses, the--"\r\n\r\n"Well, I suppose I exaggerated. They do things they don\'t like once in\r\nawhile, if they want the end product enough. But mostly, if they can\'t\r\nmake a big game of it, they don\'t do it. Tomorrow\'s nut-gathering day,"\r\nshe added irrelevantly.\r\n\r\n"Nut-gathering day?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. Everybody frolics off into the hills to pick nuts. Like a picnic.\r\nThat\'s what I mean--if they didn\'t consider it a pleasure outing, the\r\nnuts could hit them on the head, and they\'d never bother to pick them\r\nup." She cocked her head at him. "Want to go?"\r\n\r\n"Go where? Nut-gathering, you mean?" He laughed. "No, thanks."\r\n\r\n"Thought you might like to study the natives in their day-to-day\r\nactivities, get the real local flavor. You might learn something, at\r\nthat. Though I guess you\'d have a rough time climbing the trees."\r\n\r\n"I\'ve had an hour a day at gymnastics for the past three years."\r\n\r\n"Yes, you look in good shape." Her glance swept over him approvingly.\r\n"But gymnastics and those trees are two different things. The edible\r\nnuts grow on the tall trees, not the short ones, and they sway in the\r\nwind. The young men do most of the climbing. They\'re pretty wonderful\r\nphysical specimens, I\'ll say that." She glanced at one of them near by,\r\nwho was whispering in the ear of a Nemarian girl.\r\n\r\nKirk felt oddly annoyed. They were magnificent physical specimens, he\r\nthought. But then so were the women and children. He realized that he\r\nhadn\'t seen a sickly or weak-looking native since he arrived. Even the\r\nold people kept their magnificent posture, and managed to make age seem\r\na matter of gathering wisdom instead of collecting infirmities. Weren\'t\r\nthey ever sick, he wondered.\r\n\r\n"The girls are lovely, too," he reminded her.\r\n\r\n"Yes, but try to get near one of them," she flashed back. "They prefer\r\ntheir own." Her eyes narrowed. "They\'re pleasant people, but they\'re\r\nnot pleasant to live with. It gets on your nerves after awhile."\r\n\r\n"Why didn\'t you leave, Jeannette?"\r\n\r\n"On the spaceship you came on?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. There may not be another for five years."\r\n\r\n"That\'s the big question," she said slowly. "I\'m not sure I know the\r\nanswer. I half intended to leave on the ship when it came. But when it\r\ncame down to it, I didn\'t leave." She stared ahead of her. "Something\r\nabout the place gets you. Maybe it\'s the life. Maybe you get used to\r\nlying around in the sun, and you feel kind of frightened at returning\r\nto all the hustle and bustle of Terra. And then, you keep waiting,\r\nhoping that--"\r\n\r\n"Hoping what?"\r\n\r\nFor a moment, she looked defenseless and a little hurt. Then the\r\ncynical smile came back. "You don\'t even know what you\'re hoping for,\r\nreally," she said lightly.\r\n\r\nHe knew she was evading him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe lay in bed later, wondering what Jeannette could have meant, what\r\ncould account for that brief hurt look.\r\n\r\nShe was an attractive girl, he thought idly. He wondered why he\r\nfelt nothing for her, when the native girl aroused in him such an\r\nunreasonable longing. It would be a good deal more convenient to fall\r\nfor Jeannette.\r\n\r\nHe couldn\'t afford to get mixed up with his maid.\r\n\r\nRemembering her, he suddenly felt his body trembling.\r\n\r\nAll right, he told himself, so she\'s an ignorant, backward native on a\r\nplanet nobody ever heard of. Practically a savage. And even here, she\'s\r\njust a maid, a cleaning woman. Nobody a Planetary Administrator could\r\nthink about getting mixed up with. But how do they turn them out like\r\nthat?\r\n\r\nHow do they turn them out like that, he thought--every movement\r\nfluid, every position graceful, every gesture exquisite? How does\r\nthis nonentity of a planet turn out a girl with the kind of walk the\r\nvideo-stars back home practice and work years to approach? With a\r\nvoice with that indescribable music and precision? With a flawless\r\nskin, radiant hair, a serenity and self-confidence that would make the\r\ngreatest beauties on Terra envious? With a quiet, careless pride that\r\nmade him, the new ruler of her planet, awkward and insecure in the\r\npresence of his own servant?\r\n\r\nJeannette had been jealous, he realized suddenly. She was jealous of\r\nthese girls, of their grace, of their radiance. Her cynicism covered a\r\nbitter envy.\r\n\r\nFor a long time he lay there, trying to sleep, haunted by Nanae\'s\r\nluminous eyes.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe started working the next morning.\r\n\r\nThere was no use putting it off, he thought. Nemar seemed to act like\r\na drug, gradually depriving you of your drive and ambition. He wasn\'t\r\ngoing to give it a chance to let its poison seep into him.\r\n\r\nHe flung himself into his duties as Planetary Administrator with a grim\r\ndetermination. He struggled to organize the affairs of the planet on\r\na more efficient basis. He introduced new methods and techniques. He\r\nworked tirelessly, relentlessly, hardly noticing their passage as one\r\nday followed another. And every moment he could spare, he devoted to\r\nthe project for finding something of value to export.\r\n\r\nHe was going to put this planet on the map. He didn\'t know how yet, but\r\nhe was going to do it.\r\n\r\nHe was going to turn his misfortune into a triumph.\r\n\r\nEvery hint of a possibility was followed up with eagerness.\r\nEvery lead, every clue, was the subject of exhaustive study and\r\ninvestigation. His days were a succession of guarded hopes and\r\ndisappointments, of surges of optimism and long stretches of\r\ndiscouragement. He pushed his wearied body into greater and greater\r\nefforts, working unflaggingly through the day and most of the night,\r\nspurred by the anger that still burned in him.\r\n\r\nThe natives, he knew, looked at the light burning late into the night\r\nand thought he was a little crazy. He gave up eating with them. It was\r\ntoo easy, there by the river, to drift into staying later and later,\r\ndrinking their hot wine, chatting, watching the dancing. It was too\r\nhard to resist the temptation of midnight swimming later with the young\r\nmen and women at the nearby beach, with revels and bonfires on the\r\nlavender sands afterward.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAt the end of two weeks, he sat on his bed, taking stock of what he had\r\naccomplished.\r\n\r\nIt was very little.\r\n\r\nAnd he was very tired.\r\n\r\nThe tiredness was familiar. It was just like school all over again,\r\nhe thought, the same long exhausting hours of driving oneself\r\nrelentlessly. He wondered when he\'d be able to relax. He didn\'t dare\r\nrelax now. When he had a lead, a definite hope of some kind, he could\r\nbegin to let up. But not till then. It would be too easy to give up and\r\nlet go altogether, go the way Jerwyn had gone.\r\n\r\nHe was beginning to understand why Jerwyn had given up.\r\n\r\nHe was beginning to understand a lot of things--the odd, cryptic\r\nremarks he had heard about the natives when he first arrived, the mixed\r\nadmiration and exasperation they seemed to arouse.\r\n\r\nHe remembered a man named Gandhi from ancient Indian history.\r\n\r\nThe Nemarians could have given Gandhi lessons.\r\n\r\nWorking with them was like working with an invisible wall of resistance\r\nthat weakened here and strengthened there, gave in unexpectedly at one\r\nplace and resisted implacably at another.\r\n\r\nAt times his plans were praised; then they were put into effect with an\r\nefficiency that astonished him. At other times they were criticized,\r\nin a casual, friendly manner that enraged him. Then they were not put\r\ninto effect at all. When he insisted on obedience, the natives reacted\r\nwith an attitude of patient tolerance, and did nothing. Most of the\r\ntime, his orders were received indifferently and carried out with an\r\nagonizing slowness.\r\n\r\nHe pushed and prodded them. He reasoned with them. He shouted at them.\r\n\r\nHe reaped nothing but frustration.\r\n\r\nThey didn\'t hate him. He knew that. He had never seen a trace of malice\r\nin their expressions. People smiled at him when he passed, and children\r\ncame up to tug at his hand and ask him to come to visit their house.\r\nThere was none of the stony hatred here he knew existed in many places\r\nfor the all-powerful Galactic Union.\r\n\r\nThey simply seemed to lack all appreciation of the importance of his\r\nposition.\r\n\r\nYet they knew, he thought. They knew he had what amounted to almost\r\nunlimited power over their planet. They knew a space-fleet that had\r\nburned life off the face of entire planets lay at his disposal. They\r\nknew he could crush any rebellion instantly.\r\n\r\nBut, of course, they weren\'t rebelling, he thought. They weren\'t even\r\nopenly uncooperative. There it was again: they weren\'t even unfriendly;\r\nthey deluged him with constant invitations.\r\n\r\nThey knew of his power, but they acted as if it didn\'t exist.\r\n\r\nAnd he wasn\'t sure they weren\'t going to win with him, as they had\r\nwith Jerwyn. The Galactic Union did not look with approval on any call\r\nfor aid except in a military crisis; such a request was in effect an\r\naffidavit of failure. Besides, he didn\'t want to complain. He didn\'t\r\nwant to set himself against them. He was working for them, not just for\r\nhimself.\r\n\r\nHe sighed and began to get ready for bed.\r\n\r\nPrimitive people had always fought progress and change. They had always\r\nclung to old, outworn methods. But there was more to it than that, he\r\nthought. Primitive people were usually full of superstitious fear of\r\nchange, but the Nemarians were not afraid. You couldn\'t think of them\r\nas fearful. They knew the danger--they knew the strength and power that\r\nfaced them--but they were not afraid. They didn\'t even "handle with\r\ncare".\r\n\r\nWhere did their courage come from?\r\n\r\nOr was it just blind stupidity, he thought, a refusal to look facts in\r\nthe face, to admit that they were the helpless, backward subjects of an\r\nimmensely more powerful and more advanced civilization?\r\n\r\nHe pulled off a shoe absently, and he thought of all the documents and\r\nreports he had read about Nemar. Ross had given them to him, and he had\r\nsearched in them for a clue to help him understand why Ross was sending\r\nhim here. He had read and reread them, and they had told him little\r\nmore than Ross himself about Nemar.\r\n\r\nThere was something peculiar about all those documents, he thought,\r\nsomething odd about the way they were written. They described\r\nan undeveloped planet without valuable resources or any kind of\r\ntechnology, in no way out of the ordinary. But between the lines was\r\nsomething that said this planet was out of the ordinary, in spite of\r\nthe apparent facts. There was the unavoidable feeling that something\r\nwas left unsaid.\r\n\r\nWhat were they trying to hide? Why hadn\'t they let him know what he was\r\nin for?\r\n\r\nTerrans had been coming for forty years. In forty years, they must have\r\nlearned something. They must have found out something about what made\r\nthese people the way they were, and about how to deal with them. There\r\nshould have been warnings and suggestions and at least, if nothing\r\nelse, descriptions of methods that had been tried and failed. It should\r\nall have been there, out in the open; it should have been down in black\r\nand white: this is the situation, so far as we know it; these are the\r\nproblems.\r\n\r\nInstead, there had been only routine description, and veiled hints and\r\nallusions.\r\n\r\nHe hadn\'t been here long, he thought. There was a lot to learn here\r\nyet. The other Terrans, the ones who had been here a long time, knew\r\nsomething he didn\'t know. He could tell from their faces, from their\r\nattitude toward him. Cortland didn\'t know, or he would have told him,\r\nand some of the others didn\'t either, but most of them did. They knew\r\nsomething, but whether it was pleasant or unpleasant knowledge, he\r\ncouldn\'t tell. Whatever it was, it affected them. They neglected their\r\nwork, and they had a different look from the Terrans back home.\r\n\r\nJerwyn had known, and he hadn\'t told him. He\'d said he\'d have to live\r\nhere to find out.\r\n\r\nHe lay down and stretched out wearily on the bed.\r\n\r\nWell, the answers here exist, he thought. Somehow, when he had all\r\nthe pieces, the jigsaw would have to fit together and make a coherent\r\npicture.\r\n\r\nMaybe he was looking in the wrong direction.\r\n\r\nBut he didn\'t know where to look.\r\n\r\nHe thought of the day he had just been through, remembering incident\r\nafter incident when he had had all he could do to keep his temper\r\nunder control. Annoyance welled up in him again, as he recalled the\r\nseries of frustrations, the useless arguments.\r\n\r\nHis mind was still revolving in an upheaval of confusion and anger as\r\nhe fell asleep.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was barely past dawn when he awoke. He tried to fall asleep again\r\nand failed. Giving up, he dressed and wandered into the other room and\r\nthe garden beyond. He felt the early morning coolness slipping over\r\nhis shoulders like a garment, and a sense of the futility of all his\r\nstruggling filled him. He felt a sudden longing to rest, bask in the\r\nsun, live as the natives did in sunny, amiable unconcern.\r\n\r\nHe stiffened, annoyed at himself. That would mean giving up everything\r\nhe had worked so hard for all his life, ending up as a lazy failure. He\r\nfelt a surge of anger inside him toward something he could hardly name.\r\n\r\nAs he stood there, he saw two Nemarian children, a boy and a girl about\r\nfive years old, emerge from the trees and begin to pick the shimmering\r\nflowers in the garden. Irritation rose hotly in him. He knew that it\r\nwas out of proportion, built out of a hundred frustrating incidents,\r\nbut he found he didn\'t want to control it. He wanted to lash out at\r\nsomebody.\r\n\r\n"Stop stealing my flowers!" he yelled. He was surprised at the\r\nharshness of his own voice.\r\n\r\nThe children did not start fearfully or run, as he expected. They\r\nturned and stared at him in an unconcerned manner. "You can\'t steal\r\nflowers," the boy said matter-of-factly. "They don\'t belong to\r\nanybody." He looked at Kirk questioningly. "You didn\'t plant them, did\r\nyou?"\r\n\r\nKirk stared at him, speechless.\r\n\r\nThe boy went on, his tone slightly indignant. "Anyway, it\'s very rude\r\nof you to speak to us like that!"\r\n\r\n"They are quite right," an angry voice cut in. Kirk whirled around to\r\nfind Nanae standing beside him, a basket in her hand. Her hair, radiant\r\nin the sunlight, was caught back from her face with a green ribbon, and\r\nthe brown, gold-flecked eyes, for once, were not soft, but sparkling\r\nwith anger. "These are my sister\'s children," she said icily. "They\r\nhelp me gather flowers for your table. Do you think just because they\r\nare young you have the right to treat them without respect?"\r\n\r\nStaring at her angry face, Kirk felt his own anger ebbing. Into his\r\nmind a forgotten incident flashed back from his childhood. Through a\r\ndoor left ajar in a neighboring apartment he had seen a ripe purple\r\nfruit imported from a newly discovered planet, and had taken it,\r\ncurious to find out what unsynthetic food might taste like. He had been\r\ndiscovered, and angrily whipped and locked in his room. He remembered\r\nwiping away the tears, alone in his room, smarting with humiliation,\r\nand vowing he would show them, he would show them all; he would grow\r\nup to be so powerful he could have anything he wanted, and everybody\r\nwould be afraid of him.\r\n\r\nHe looked now at Nanae, who had put an arm around each of the children,\r\ncradling them to her. His anger left him completely. Remembering the\r\nhurt child he had once been, he found himself longing for the touch of\r\nsoftness and kindness that had never come to him, wishing that even now\r\nfor a moment he could take the children\'s place--lay his head against\r\nher breast, and feel her fold him in and brush her hand through his\r\nhair. He felt something melting inside of him. He could feel the lines\r\nof his face softening as he looked at them.\r\n\r\nThe words stuck, but he forced them out. "I\'m sorry."\r\n\r\n"It\'s all right," said the boy.\r\n\r\nLeaning down, Kirk put an arm tentatively around each of the children,\r\nhalf-surprised at himself for the gesture. As he felt their small\r\nbodies relax against his, it seemed as though some deep inner tension\r\nbegan to flow out of him. He straightened up to find Nanae\'s glance on\r\nhim surprisingly warm, almost tender. The approval in her eyes filled\r\nhim with an unfamiliar kind of happiness.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"You mean Ross spent five years here!" Kirk stared in amazement at\r\nCortland, sitting beside him.\r\n\r\nThe older officer turned toward him, shifting his position on the\r\ngrassy ledge to which they had climbed for a look at the surrounding\r\ncountryside. "Yes, that\'s right. Ross was straight out of the Institute\r\nthen, had an A-1 record, and this place had just been discovered. They\r\nthought then it might have all sorts of valuable minerals and things.\r\nIt seemed like a great chance." He shrugged. "As it turned out, of\r\ncourse, there was nothing, but nobody could have known then."\r\n\r\n"They know now," Kirk said shortly. He sat looking over the valleys\r\nbeneath them, silent for a moment. It was discouraging to learn Ross\r\nhad been here and had not turned up anything: Ross was capable,\r\nwhatever else he might be, and it would take luck as well as work to\r\nsucceed where he had failed. And his luck didn\'t seem to be working out\r\ntoo well, he thought, unhappily.\r\n\r\nBut this might throw some new light on why he\'d been sent here. Maybe\r\nRoss\'s reason for sending the Institute\'s star pupil had been one he\r\ncould never have guessed at the time--a gesture of sentimentality.\r\nMaybe he wanted to help these people with whom he had spent his first\r\nyears as an Administrator. Maybe he wanted to make up for his own\r\nfailure to help lift their living standards.\r\n\r\nHe turned toward the other man. "Cortland, you say you\'ve done a lot of\r\ntraveling here. How about the rest of the planet? Are any of the other\r\nvillages more advanced; are the people any different?"\r\n\r\nCortland laughed shortly. "Thinking of hiring yourself a new native\r\nstaff? Your impatience about worn out bucking this one? Can\'t say\r\nI blame you, but it\'s no go. All these villages are the same. One\r\noutfit\'s as bad as the next. Oh, they go in for different things--one\r\nwill go all out for sculptures, one will be great on weaving, and\r\nanother one maybe will grow a special kind of fruit. But the people\r\nare all alike--all equally charming and equally impossible. All\r\nsweet and friendly on the surface and stubborn as mules underneath.\r\nAll acting like they know something they\'re not talking about, like\r\nthey\'ve got some secret hidden behind those clear, guileless eyes of\r\ntheirs, some source of strength that makes them able to tell us to go\r\nto hell--figuratively, of course--when they don\'t like our orders." He\r\nleaned forward, intently. "I\'d give a lot to find out what makes them\r\ntick." A look of insecurity, almost of anxiety filled his eyes.\r\n\r\nA sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of leaves against Kirk\'s face. He\r\nbrushed them away, feeling chilled.\r\n\r\nCortland blinked his eyes, and his face resumed its customary firm\r\nlook. "But to get back to your question--this village here is supposed\r\nto be a center of government. When the Nemarians have to decide on\r\nanything that affects the whole planet, the Council in this village\r\ndoes it. The Council has nothing to do with the Galactic Union set-up,\r\nof course. It\'s strictly local, was here before GU discovered this\r\nplace. You probably studied up on it before you came here."\r\n\r\nKirk nodded. Every planet with an indigenous population had its own\r\npolitical set-up. It was GU policy not to interfere with them, unless\r\ntheir interests clashed in some way.\r\n\r\nCortland went on. "Anyone who likes being in on that sort of thing\r\npacks up and emigrates to this village. I don\'t know whether you\'ve\r\nnoticed, but these people are pretty casual about moving from one\r\ntown to another. Anyway, when your would-be politician gets here, the\r\npeople take him in and watch him awhile, and then, if they like him all\r\nright, he\'s put on the Council. What a system! The truth is, most of\r\nthe Nemarians consider political work something of a nuisance and would\r\njust as soon somebody else did it. They don\'t care for power the way we\r\ndo. They look on it as just a heavy responsibility and a burden."\r\n\r\nKirk shifted his leg uncomfortably, feeling a bit self-conscious.\r\n\r\n"By the way," Cortland added casually, "how are you getting on with\r\nthat girl?"\r\n\r\n"What girl?"\r\n\r\n"That beautiful creature who keeps house for you."\r\n\r\n"Nanae?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, Nanae. The beauty of the village, the girl who cooks breakfast\r\nfor you, the head of the Council--"\r\n\r\n"What did you say? What was that about the Council?"\r\n\r\n"She\'s head of the Council. Didn\'t you know?"\r\n\r\n"How can she be? She\'s a maid, she--"\r\n\r\n"They don\'t have maids here. She\'s being neighborly. And they have\r\nsort of a "power corrupts" philosophy here. If you\'re in a position of\r\nauthority, you\'re sort of expected to go out and do humble tasks for\r\npeople once in awhile, so you won\'t get to feeling above them. These\r\npeople like to keep everyone on the same low--"\r\n\r\n"But head of the Council!" Kirk broke in. "She\'s just a young girl!"\r\n\r\n"So what? You\'re just a young man."\r\n\r\n"But--"\r\n\r\n"Sorry for the levity. But they let women do everything here. They\'ve\r\ngot equality of the sexes, old man. They--"\r\n\r\n"We\'d better be starting back," Kirk broke in. He rose to his feet.\r\n\r\nHe walked silently down the hill beside Cortland, his head whirling.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen they reached the village, he left Cortland as quickly as he\r\ncould and hurried in the direction of his house, incoherent thoughts\r\ntumbling over each other in his mind. His face burned as he remembered\r\nhis condescension, the way he had fought his desire for her by holding\r\nher off with curt remarks, indicating with raised eyebrows that he\r\nwished no personal conversation. He thought of the occasional glint of\r\namusement he had seen breaking through her serene courtesy.\r\n\r\nWhy had she kept coming, he wondered.\r\n\r\nHe saw, with a start, that he was nearly to his house, and he realized\r\nhe had been hoping Nanae would be there. He had to talk to her, though\r\nhe had no idea what he would say. As he drew closer, he saw a flicker\r\nof motion inside the porch.\r\n\r\nHe walked forward quietly, and then stood a moment watching her,\r\nsilently. She had her back to him and was sweeping, as she had been\r\nthat first time he saw her. Her thighs were wrapped in soft, violet\r\ncloth, and a cascade of violet flowers jeweled the lovely hair which\r\nrippled and swirled down her back and shoulders. Not a wasted motion,\r\nhe thought, not a gesture that isn\'t beautiful. He wondered why he had\r\never felt sweeping a floor was a menial task. She moved like a great\r\ndancer.\r\n\r\nShe turned as he watched and saw him. "Hello." She smiled, and he felt\r\nhimself tremble a little.\r\n\r\n"I just heard about you--about your being head of the Council," he\r\nblurted out. "I want to apologize; I didn\'t know, I--"\r\n\r\n"What difference does it make?" She looked genuinely puzzled.\r\n\r\n"I thought you were a maid, a ... a sort of person who waits on other\r\npeople, on Terra," he tried to explain. "I didn\'t know you were just\r\ndoing this to be kind. I\'ve been very rude. I--I hardly know what to\r\nsay...."\r\n\r\nHer eyes widened. "Do you treat people who clean your houses on Terra\r\none way and officials another? You are funny, you Terrans."\r\n\r\n"Yes, I guess we are funny." He searched for words. "This is the first\r\ntime I\'ve really talked to you, isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\nShe smiled. "We\'ve just been people in the same room." She spoke\r\ngently. "I\'ve seen you were unhappy and confused under that proud\r\nmanner. I wanted to help, but you weren\'t ready to let anyone help."\r\n\r\n"Why did you keep coming?" He waited anxiously for her answer.\r\n\r\n"I liked you." Her glance was half-tender and a little amused. "And I\r\nknew you wanted me here, even though you tried not to show it." She\r\npaused. "There was another reason, too."\r\n\r\n"What was it?"\r\n\r\n"You know Marlin Ross lived here once?" He nodded. "Well, there was\r\na note from him on the spaceship you came on. It was addressed to my\r\nfather, asking him to take care of you. He and Ross were good friends.\r\nBut my father is dead now, and so the letter was given to me."\r\n\r\n"And so you\'ve been taking care of me."\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"But I\'m sure he didn\'t mean it literally--taking care of my house and\r\nfixing my food and--"\r\n\r\n"No, of course not. He just meant to take care of you, give you what\r\nyou needed. But you needed this. You needed to be waited on a little."\r\n\r\n"I guess I did." He could find nothing adequate to say. "Thank you."\r\n\r\nThere was a moment of silence.\r\n\r\nShe put aside the broom, which was still poised in one hand. "Let me\r\nmake you some _jen_. You look tired."\r\n\r\n"Thank you." Kirk sat down, with a deep sigh, and leaned back, watching\r\nher precise, exquisite movements, as she prepared the hot liquid. He\r\nfound himself longing to touch her, to reach out and feel the soft,\r\nsupple flesh, the rippling hair. The sight of her beautiful, firm\r\nbreasts moving as she worked tortured him. The low necklace that\r\nsignified they were covered didn\'t work very well for him, he thought.\r\nThe flowers twined into it kept falling aside as she bent and turned,\r\ntantalizing him more. He pulled his eyes away, and forced himself to\r\nthink of other things.\r\n\r\nShe had been very kind, he realized.\r\n\r\nShe hadn\'t made him feel like a fool.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe stood waiting for the last of the staff to assemble, letting the\r\nfeel of triumph course through his body. He felt heady, exultant, a\r\nlittle drunk with joy. This was his moment. This made it all worth\r\nwhile--the long hours, the sleepless nights, the relentless work, the\r\nstruggle. They would see. They would see he hadn\'t been driving himself\r\nand them for nothing.\r\n\r\nHe stared down for a moment at the piece of ore which he had brought to\r\nshow them. It contained unpolished zenites.\r\n\r\nNemar possessed zenites, the fabulous gems valued all over the galaxy\r\nfor their shimmering, glowing beauty of changing color. Infinitely more\r\nprecious and rare than diamonds, they served often as a galactic medium\r\nof exchange, where weight was important. A handful of them could be\r\nworth the whole cargo of a trading ship.\r\n\r\nHe was not surprised that no one had found the ore deposits before.\r\nThey were the products of immense and peculiar pressures and no\r\nappreciable amount of the ore was ever found except very deep\r\nunderground. He was very glad now he had specialized in geology and\r\nmineralogy instead of social structure and alien psychology. Otherwise,\r\nthe geologic reports he had received of the area would have seemed\r\nperfectly routine and ordinary. The nagging feeling that there was\r\nsomething a little unusual about the soil analysis would never have\r\ncome into consciousness as a definite, tremulous hunch.\r\n\r\nHe could have sent Cortland or one of the others out there with the\r\ntools and instruments to dig and make test after test, searching\r\nseveral feet under the surface for the elusive end-trail of a lode. But\r\nhe had wanted to go himself. He had packed and prepared for the two-day\r\ntrip, steeling himself against the disappointment he was almost sure to\r\nreceive.\r\n\r\nHe looked at the faces of his staff members, all present now, thinking\r\nof that first meeting with them and the peculiar reception his plans\r\nhad received. Now it would be different; now everything he had asked of\r\nthem was justified.\r\n\r\nDrawing a long breath, he began to tell them what had happened.\r\n\r\nAs he went on, his fiery enthusiasm began to waver. His voice boomed\r\ntoo loudly in the quiet room. Once or twice his words faltered, as\r\nhe glanced at the dispassionate face of a native. As he finished, he\r\nlooked around, a sense of dismay and fear creeping into his feeling of\r\ntriumph.\r\n\r\nThey had listened too quietly. Only Cortland and a few other Terrans\r\nhad shown any indication of the excitement and jubilation he expected.\r\nThe others seemed unimpressed and undisturbed. With a sinking feeling\r\nin the pit of his stomach, he called for discussion.\r\n\r\nThere was a pause. Finally, one of the older Nemarians spoke. "This is\r\na very important matter. If these mines are put into operation, it will\r\naffect the lives of everyone on Nemar. I must ask that you give us a\r\nlittle time to think over the implications."\r\n\r\nHe spoke courteously, but Kirk knew the request would have to be\r\nrespected. He wanted to shout at them, to ask them to understand this\r\nwonderful thing that had happened, to tell them they were going to be\r\nrich! But this was the way they did things, and this was the way it\r\nwould have to be done. He pushed down the impatience burning in him.\r\n"Will a day do?"\r\n\r\nThe Nemarian hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Very well. A day should\r\nbe enough."\r\n\r\nKirk watched them file out a few minutes later. He wondered where his\r\nsense of elation had gone.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nApprehension filled him again as he watched the staff assemble the next\r\nmorning. The faces of the Nemarian members increased his discomfort.\r\nWhy didn\'t they look happier, more excited? Why should they look at him\r\nwith that unspoken sympathy in their eyes. He was afraid to hear what\r\nthey had to say.\r\n\r\nThe native who had spoken the day before moved forward a little.\r\n"We\'re very sorry," he said gently. Kirk felt his heart sinking. "We\r\nrealize that you have worked very hard in what you consider to be our\r\ninterests. We hoped you would come up with something more acceptable\r\nthan these mines. But we cannot put the plans for mining these gems\r\nof yours into operation. We are very sorry," he said again, "but the\r\nCouncil has voted against it."\r\n\r\n"The Council!" Kirk stared at him. He fought to control his voice.\r\n"You know perfectly well that the power of my command is supreme over\r\nany local councils of whatever nature." He stiffened. "But that isn\'t\r\nthe point. I guess I haven\'t made things clear to you somehow. These\r\ngems--which you refer to as if they were a child\'s baubles--can make\r\nthis insignificant planet a power in the galaxy. They can make the name\r\nof Nemar respected throughout the whole Galactic Union. You can trade\r\nthem." He spoke each word slowly and carefully as if he were explaining\r\nto a child. "I\'m not having expensive machinery constructed and sending\r\nyou down hundreds of feet into the ground so that your women can\r\n_wear_ these jewels. They\'re extremely pretty, but you probably feel\r\nthe flowers the girls pluck and put in their hair do just as well for\r\nornaments, and perhaps you\'re right."\r\n\r\nHe paused, trying to hold on to his temper. "It will be dark and dusty\r\nand uncomfortable down in those mines, as I told you yesterday when\r\nyou asked about it. It will be hard work, and I know you\'re not fond\r\nof hard work." He could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "But\r\nI assure you, it will be worth it. A really good specimen of one of\r\nthese little _gems_ (he underlined the word) can buy half the cargo of\r\na spaceship. These jewels can make it worthwhile for the great trading\r\nships to swarm through space out to this isolated fragment of the\r\ncosmos. You can acquire the technologies of other planets with them.\r\nThe evolution of this planet can be speeded up a dozen times. You can\r\nbecome of importance in the scheme of things, leave this backward,\r\nprimitive way of life behind you."\r\n\r\nAs he paused for breath, one of the Nemarians spoke quietly. "We don\'t\r\nwant to push ahead that fast." He looked at Kirk serenely. "We are\r\ninterested in improving conditions here, of course. We want to acquire\r\nthings that will make our lives more pleasant and luxurious. Some day\r\nwe wish to become a highly developed society, technologically. We wish\r\ngrowth and change--but only very slowly, very carefully. We want to be\r\nvery, very sure we do not bring in pain when we bring in new pleasures.\r\nWe need to study each new change to see what it might mean." He paused.\r\n"In this case, it took very little study. This mining project would\r\nmean the young men would be put to backbreaking labor in underground,\r\nunhealthy conditions. There might be circumstances which could justify\r\nsuch a thing. But not for jewels which are intrinsically worthless."\r\n\r\n"Worthless! I just told you--"\r\n\r\n"I mean they are not valuable in themselves. You can make cheap,\r\nsynthetic jewels that are almost as beautiful, can\'t you?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, of course, but--"\r\n\r\n"So they are only valuable because they are rare, because you _call_\r\nthem valuable, because they show the people who buy them have enough\r\nmoney to buy them. Wearing them is really a way of saying, I\'m rich, to\r\neveryone who sees you." He shrugged. "We don\'t care about that sort of\r\nthing here."\r\n\r\nKirk clenched his fists in frustration. Maybe he should have\r\nspecialized in alien psychology. He made another try. "I know you\r\ndon\'t. That\'s not the point. The point is that you can trade them for\r\nother things, for--"\r\n\r\nThe older native who had announced the Council decision broke in again.\r\n"As you said, the mining is very hard, disagreeable work. We feel\r\nthat when you begin to do disagreeable things for an end that is not\r\nvaluable in itself, you are beginning to tread a dangerous path. There\r\nis no telling where it will end. One such situation leads to another.\r\nWe might end up cooped up in a room all day, shut away from the sun\r\nand air, turning bolts on an assembly line to make machines, as we\r\nhave heard often happens on Terra." He looked slightly shocked at the\r\npicture. "Being surrounded by technical conveniences isn\'t worth that."\r\nHe looked at Kirk patiently, as though this should be self-evident.\r\n"On Terra and on most of the other planets we have had word of, people\r\nseem to spend their time making all kinds of things that have no value\r\nin themselves, because they can be sold or traded. Other people spend\r\ntheir time trying to persuade people to buy these useless things.\r\nStill other people spend all day making records of how many of these\r\nthings have been sold. No! This path is not for us." He shook his head.\r\n"We don\'t know how it came about that all these people spend their time\r\nat these unpleasant, useless things. They can\'t have wanted it that\r\nway. No human being could want to spend his time doing silly, pointless\r\nthings. How could you believe in yourself? How could you walk proudly?\r\nHow could you explain it to your children? We must be careful not to\r\nmake the mistake of taking the first step in that direction."\r\n\r\nKirk felt hopelessly confused. The reasoning was all wrong, but how\r\ncould he explain it to them?\r\n\r\nHe began slowly, from another angle....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe stood there for a long time after they had left, trying to control\r\nhis rage. He had tried everything he could think of. He had argued,\r\nreasoned, pleaded with them. He had raged at them, threatened them.\r\nNothing had worked.\r\n\r\nThe threats had not disturbed them.\r\n\r\nHe thought of sending out an emergency beam for help. But what would he\r\nsay when the ship arrived: put these people under martial law--force\r\nthem to work--it\'s for their own good? He\'d like to see if they could\r\ndo it, he thought. He\'d be betting they couldn\'t.\r\n\r\nHe paced up and down, clenching his fists.\r\n\r\nHe could have all the council members jailed, he thought. Only there\r\nweren\'t any jails on Nemar.\r\n\r\nResentment burned in him. They\'d let him work and struggle and slave\r\nday and night--for this. He swung his fist into the wall suddenly, with\r\nall his might. The pain stung, but he felt a little better.\r\n\r\nHe looked at the bruised hand, wondering what to do. He was too\r\nrestless to go home and stay by himself, burning up with unspent rage;\r\nand he certainly couldn\'t go and sit among the natives, listening to\r\nthem chatter and laugh.\r\n\r\nHe decided to take a walk.\r\n\r\nHe heard a rustle of leaves after he had gone a little way and saw a\r\npair of feminine legs through the underbrush. He tried to turn aside.\r\nHe didn\'t feel like talking to Jeannette now.\r\n\r\nBut she had already seen him. "Hello, there," she said, pushing aside a\r\nbranch from where she was sitting. "Are you taking a walk, too? Thought\r\nyou were always sticking to the old grindstone this time of day."\r\n\r\n"Hello, Jeannette."\r\n\r\n"Sit down and rest for a minute. I need some company."\r\n\r\nHe hesitated, then sat down reluctantly.\r\n\r\n"You don\'t look too cheerful," she said, looking at him. "Something\r\neating you?"\r\n\r\n"Just this place," he said wearily. "And the people."\r\n\r\n"Yes, it gets you after a while, doesn\'t it? It\'s pretty hard to take."\r\n\r\nHe leaned against a tree and tried to relax.\r\n\r\n"It\'s hard to live with," she went on, "the constant sense of\r\ninferiority...."\r\n\r\nHe wondered if he had heard her correctly. "What did you say?"\r\n\r\n"I said, it\'s hard to live with."\r\n\r\n"No, no. I meant the last part."\r\n\r\n"The constant sense of inferiority. Is something the ma--"\r\n\r\n"What are you talking about?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m talking about the Nemarians, naturally."\r\n\r\n"You surely don\'t consider them superior to us!" he said incredulously.\r\n\r\n"Let\'s not fool ourselves," she said. "There isn\'t one of them that\r\nisn\'t superior to every Terran here."\r\n\r\nHe stared at her.\r\n\r\n"Of course, we do fool ourselves. I\'ve been doing it a long time. Or\r\ntrying to, anyway. But I\'ve been sitting here thinking. Among other\r\nthings, about why I didn\'t leave on that ship you came on, as I\'d\r\nplanned."\r\n\r\n"Why didn\'t you?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"The same reason nobody else did, but Jerwyn; and he had to."\r\n\r\n"Plenty of them don\'t like it here," he said. "There\'s plenty of\r\ngriping."\r\n\r\n"Not really," she said. "It\'s not really griping. It\'s just a way of\r\nmaking yourself feel better. Only the ones who haven\'t been here too\r\nlong do it, and one or two others who are real old-line die-hards, like\r\nyour Mr. Cortland.\r\n\r\n"Why didn\'t you leave?"\r\n\r\n"Because this is a good deal, of course. The climate\'s lovely; the\r\nscenery\'s beautiful; life is sort of a perpetual pleasure outing. The\r\nonly trouble is, you\'re always on the fringes. You\'re the kid from\r\nacross the tracks."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t understand."\r\n\r\n"That wasn\'t the right phrase, because that implies snobbishness, and\r\nthey\'re not snobbish. But they don\'t quite accept you. They let you\r\nhang around; they let you play with them. But you\'re not really one of\r\nthem."\r\n\r\n"Why on earth should you want to be one of them! They\'re just a bunch\r\nof ignorant primitives, while we come from the highest center of\r\nculture civilization has ever attained."\r\n\r\n"Yes, yes, I know all that. We\'re very good at pushing buttons and\r\nkeeping in the right traffic lanes. But let\'s look the facts in the\r\nface. I\'ve been sitting here making myself look the facts in the face.\r\nHave you ever seen one of them act mean?"\r\n\r\n"Well, not mean exactly, but--"\r\n\r\n"No, you haven\'t. They can get plenty angry, but they don\'t get mean.\r\nThere\'s a difference."\r\n\r\nHe said nothing.\r\n\r\n"Have you ever seen a child here tear the wings off an insect?" She\r\nwent on, not waiting for his reply. "No, you haven\'t. And you won\'t.\r\nHave you ever seen a native with a hard, cruel face? No, again. Have\r\nyou ever seen one that wasn\'t gentle with children?"\r\n\r\n"I guess not. I never thought about it."\r\n\r\nShe turned to him with an odd tremulousness in her face, replacing\r\nher usual cynical look and slightly raised eyebrows. "They love their\r\nchildren here. They really love them." She looked at him. "They don\'t\r\n_say_ they love them and then hit them and humiliate them because they\r\naccidentally break the vase Aunt Matilda gave the family for Christmas.\r\nTheir child\'s happiness means more to them than any vase, than any\r\nmaterial object. They never humiliate their children. That\'s why they\r\ngrow up to walk like kings and queens.\r\n\r\n"They grow up being loved," she said. "They all love each other. And\r\nit isn\'t because they try. They don\'t try to be good and nice and love\r\ntheir fellow-men, like we do. It\'s just something that flows out of\r\nthem. They\'re full of warmth inside, and it flows out.\r\n\r\n"And something else--" she went on. "Have you ever caught one in a lie?"\r\n\r\n"No, but that doesn\'t mean--"\r\n\r\n"People like your Mr. Cortland think they\'re sly and deceptive because\r\nthey\'re always courteous, and still you can\'t push them around. But\r\nhe\'s wrong. They\'re courteous because they\'re sorry for us, not because\r\nthey\'re afraid of us."\r\n\r\n"Sorry for us?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sorry for us. They\'re sorry for us because we don\'t know how\r\nto enjoy life, because we worry about all sorts of things that don\'t\r\nmatter, and knock ourselves out working, and need other people to\r\nreassure us of our own worth. Because we have bad tempers and awkward\r\nbodies, and we don\'t have that warmth inside of us flowing out toward\r\nother people.\r\n\r\n"Even toward us," she said. "They\'re kind to us. They\'re tolerant.\r\nThey want us to be happy. And they do accept us eventually. If we stay\r\nhere enough years. If we change. Maybe not quite as one of them, but\r\nalmost. Sometimes they even marry us."\r\n\r\nKirk shook his head, trying to clear it. "I can\'t think. I feel\r\nconfused, I--"\r\n\r\n"Still thinking about our great technological achievements? We\'re\r\npretty cocky about them, aren\'t we? We come here all set to spread\r\nenlightenment among the savages." She shrugged. "They\'re not impressed\r\nwith our magic machines. They\'re not selling their planet for a handful\r\nof beads. They took a good look at us and decided to try to keep what\r\nthey had."\r\n\r\nShe looked at him steadily. "Personally, I\'ve decided I can do without\r\nthe vidar-shows. I\'m going to stay and try to make the grade here. I\'m\r\ngoing to work at becoming a better human being. I\'m tired of being\r\nflippant and smart and sophisticated. I\'d like to be happy." She\r\npaused. "Maybe a Nemarian will even fall in love with me eventually and\r\nmarry me."\r\n\r\n"You want to marry one of them!"\r\n\r\n"You catch on fast." She blinked. "Sorry. That\'s not a very good\r\nbeginning. It\'s going to take awhile to shake that flippancy." She\r\ncaught his eyes. "Wouldn\'t you like to marry Nanae?"\r\n\r\nHe didn\'t answer.\r\n\r\nShe smiled oddly. "Yes, I\'d like to marry one of them and have\r\nchildren like theirs." She hesitated. "I said once, they spoil their\r\nchildren rotten. I guess they do in a way, but the children turn\r\nout fine. We Terrans just aren\'t used to children with a sense of\r\ntheir rights. These children overwhelm me." She lowered her eyes.\r\n"You know how flippant I am--when I try it in their presence I feel\r\nterribly stupid. They make me aware of every affectation; their eyes\r\nare so clear--like a deer\'s--I feel like a fool." She looked at him\r\ntremulously, defensively. "Anyway, I said that about their being\r\nspoiled, out of envy. When I first saw how their mothers held them--all\r\nthat tenderness, all that love, all that warmth--I envied them with a\r\nterrible bitterness. It wasn\'t that I had bad parents. Just ordinary\r\nones, trying to do their best and all that."\r\n\r\n"Why do you keep talking about children all the time? After all, it\'s\r\nthe adults who run things."\r\n\r\n"The children are the adults of the future. It\'s the way they\'re\r\nbrought up that makes these people what they are. You and I--all of\r\nus from Terra--we\'ve been brought up on a limited, scientifically\r\nregimented, controlled amount of love. These natives have something\r\nwe\'ll never have. We\'ve got to work and strive for what comes as\r\nnaturally to them as breathing."\r\n\r\nAs she spoke, Kirk suddenly remembered the close-packed faces of\r\nTerrans speeding by in the opposite direction on the moving sidewalks\r\nat home--tense faces, hard faces, resigned faces, sad faces, timid\r\nfaces, worried faces. Maybe one in fifty serene and self-confident,\r\nmaybe one in a hundred vibrantly, joyously alive. Maybe. Probably not\r\nthat many.\r\n\r\nHe thought of the faces of the Nemarians.\r\n\r\nJeannette was still talking. "They are what human beings should be,"\r\nshe said slowly. "Somehow they\'ve kept their birthright--the ability to\r\nbe full of the joy of living whenever they\'re not in real trouble or\r\nsorrow, the ability to be happy just because they\'re alive. I haven\'t\r\nunderstood these people because I didn\'t want to understand them.\r\nI didn\'t want to see that they were better than I am. They\'re very\r\nsimple, really; it\'s we who are complicated and devious."\r\n\r\n"Why hasn\'t anybody ever heard of this place?" Kirk asked.\r\n\r\n"It\'s isolated," she said, "and people don\'t leave here, once they\'ve\r\nseen what\'s here. They don\'t write too much, either, because by the\r\ntime the spaceship arrives again, they understand. They cooperate with\r\nthe authorities, who are trying to keep this place as much of a secret\r\nas possible. Publicize it, and within ten years it would be swarming\r\nwith wealthy businessmen on vacation and jaded neurotics trying to get\r\naway from it all. The Nemarians would be lost in the shuffle."\r\n\r\nShe was still a moment. "My husband came here to get away from it\r\nall. He heard rumors of this place a long way off and traced them. I\r\ndidn\'t want to come. I liked cities and night-clubs; I liked being\r\nsurrounded by amiable, promiscuous men. He dragged me here against my\r\nwill. Now he\'s dead, and I\'m caught up in his dreams. These people are\r\nirresistible; they call out to something basic and deep in you, and\r\nyou respond to it whether you want to or not. You can\'t leave this\r\nplace--unless you have to. Like you will."\r\n\r\nKirk stood up abruptly. "Jeannette, do you mind? I feel terribly\r\nconfused. A lot has happened to me today. I want to walk alone awhile\r\nand think things out."\r\n\r\nShe nodded, with a sudden look of compassion.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe walked away from her slowly, turning half unconsciously in the\r\ndirection of his house. His mind was a swirl of confusion. He tried to\r\nthink. He needed to get it all straightened out.\r\n\r\nThe sense of inferiority, she\'d said, the constant sense of\r\ninferiority. Let\'s not fool ourselves, she\'d said. There isn\'t one of\r\nthem that isn\'t superior to every Terran here.\r\n\r\nAnd he\'d just sat there, stupefied, not denying it.\r\n\r\nBecause once it was spoken, put into words, it had a certain rightness.\r\nA certain obviousness. He\'d known it all the time.\r\n\r\nHe hadn\'t let himself know it, though. He\'d struggled against it,\r\nchoking it back when it started seeping up from his unconscious. He\'d\r\nworked so hard and kept himself so busy and exhausted he didn\'t have\r\ntime to think. He\'d thought so hard about other things he didn\'t have\r\ntime to think about the truth.\r\n\r\nHe\'d arrived here looking for the answer to a mystery. Thinking maybe\r\nthe planet had a secret value, hoping maybe it held an explosive or new\r\nweapon that was classified as Super Top Secret, wondering if maybe it\r\nweren\'t really primitive.\r\n\r\nAnd nobody could have told him: it does have a secret value--secret\r\nbecause you\'re too blind to see it. Nobody could have told him; these\r\npeople are more advanced than you are. Because advanced meant machines.\r\nAdvanced didn\'t mean happy, loving, graceful, courageous, honest.\r\n\r\nThey couldn\'t have told him with words if he couldn\'t see it with his\r\neyes--if he couldn\'t see that the glowing faces of the natives held a\r\nsecret worth learning.\r\n\r\nThe only secret that really mattered.\r\n\r\nHow to be happy.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNanae was there waiting when he reached the house, as though she had\r\nbeen expecting him.\r\n\r\nShe looked at him silently, then smiled. "You\'re not angry?"\r\n\r\n"Angry?"\r\n\r\n"About the Council decision."\r\n\r\n"Oh--oh, I was. I\'m all mixed up now. I\'ve been doing some thinking."\r\n\r\nShe looked at him intently, then nodded slowly. "Do you know why you\r\nwere sent here?" she asked.\r\n\r\n"I\'m just beginning to get a glimmering of it."\r\n\r\n"Did you know we are the only planet yet discovered whose people have\r\nnever known war?"\r\n\r\n"No, I didn\'t know."\r\n\r\n"Ross came to Nemar when the Galactic Union first discovered it. He\r\ndidn\'t find any of the things he was looking for, but he did discover\r\nsomething else, a way of life." She paused. "Have you ever gone over\r\nhis record?"\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"You should, sometime. He\'s done a great deal of good." She looked at\r\nhim steadily, her eyes clear and soft. "He keeps sending the very best\r\nof the Institute graduates here, hoping they\'ll study our society and\r\nwork out some theories about what makes us the way we are. He hopes\r\nsome of the happiness here can be transplanted.\r\n\r\n"We don\'t know why we\'re the way we are. We don\'t even know how it\'s\r\npossible to be any other way, and we don\'t understand why anyone should\r\nbe willing to fight wars, or why they should lie or hit their children\r\nor make long speeches that don\'t say anything."\r\n\r\nKirk was silent.\r\n\r\n"We\'re inside the problem," she said. "We can\'t see ourselves from the\r\noutside."\r\n\r\nKirk spoke very slowly, thinking it out. "You mean, Ross sent me here\r\nto study you, to try to find out what factors are involved in--"\r\n\r\n"Yes. He sent you here to learn."\r\n\r\nHe was quiet, digesting that.\r\n\r\n"One day you\'ll be in Ross\'s place," she said.\r\n\r\nHe accepted the words quietly, knowing it was true.\r\n\r\nYesterday, that would have seemed like the most desirable thing in the\r\nuniverse, the height of happiness.\r\n\r\nIt seemed like a long time ago.\r\n\r\nIt meant nothing now but a heavy burden.\r\n\r\nHe sat thinking of Nanae after she had gone, of how he had longed to\r\nput his arms around her and draw her to him, kiss the soft mouth, run\r\nhis hands through the long, glowing strands of hair.\r\n\r\nHe\'d have to work first, work at changing himself, becoming the kind of\r\nperson she could love. She would love differently and more deeply than\r\nthe girls he had known. She would love with a passion and tenderness\r\nthey\'d never be capable of. That kind of love would have to be earned.\r\n\r\nHe wondered whether she\'d be willing to go to Terra with him.\r\n\r\nHe got up and moved toward the bedroom. Tomorrow was going to be a\r\nbusy day--changing things, making apologies. Feasting. Dancing. Going\r\nmidnight swimming.\r\n\r\nHe realized suddenly that he was very happy.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRTHRIGHT ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'The Ethicators'

'Marsh, Willard'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ethicators\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Ethicators\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Willard Marsh\r\n\r\nRelease date: April 27, 2019 [eBook #59375]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ETHICATORS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n the ethicators\r\n\r\n BY WILLARD MARSH\r\n\r\n _They were used to retarded life forms, but\r\n this was the worst. Yet it is a missionary\'s duty\r\n to bring light where there is none, for who can\r\n tell what devious forms evolution might take?_\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1955.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe missionaries came out of the planetary system of a star they didn\'t\r\ncall Antares. They called it, naturally enough, The Sun--just as home\r\nwas Earth, Terra, or simply The World. And naturally enough, being the\r\nascendant animal on Earth, they called themselves human beings. They\r\nwere looking for extraterrestrial souls to save.\r\n\r\nThey had no real hope of finding humans like themselves in this\r\nwonderously diversified universe. But it wasn\'t against all probability\r\nthat, in their rumaging, there might not be a humanoid species to whom\r\nthey could reach down a helping paw; some emergent cousin with at least\r\na rudimentary symmetry from snout to tail, and hence a rudimentary soul.\r\n\r\nThe ship they chose was a compact scout, vaguely resembling the outside\r\nof an orange crate--except that they had no concept of an orange crate\r\nand, being a tesseract, it had no particular outside. It was simply an\r\nexpanding cube (and as such, quite roomy) whose "interior" was always\r\nparalleling its "exterior" (or attempting to), in accordance with all\r\nthe well-known, basic and irrefutable laws on the subject.\r\n\r\nA number of its sides occupied the same place at the same time, giving\r\na hypothetical spectator the illusion of looking down merging sets of\r\nrailway tracks. This, in fact, was its precise method of locomotion.\r\nThe inner cube was always having to catch up, caboose-fashion, with\r\nthe outer one in time (or space, depending on one\'s perspective).\r\nAnd whenever it had done so, it would have arrived with itself--at\r\napproximately wherever in the space-time continuum it had been pointed.\r\n\r\nWhen they felt the jar of the settling geodesics, the crew crowded at\r\nthe forward visiplate to see where they were. It was the outskirts of\r\na G type star system. Silently they watched the innermost planet float\r\npast, scorched and craggy, its sunward side seeming about to relapse to\r\na molten state.\r\n\r\nThe Bosun-Colonel turned to the Conductor. "A bit of a disappointment\r\nI\'m afraid, sir. Surely with all that heat...?"\r\n\r\n"Steady, lad. The last wicket\'s not been bowled." The Conductor\'s\r\nwhiskers quivered in amusement at his next-in-command\'s impetuosity.\r\n"You\'ll notice that we\'re dropping downward. If the temperature\r\naccordingly continues dropping--"\r\n\r\nHe couldn\'t shrug, he wasn\'t physiologically capable of it, but it was\r\napparent that he felt they\'d soon reach a planet whose climate could\r\nsupport intelligent life.\r\n\r\nIf the Bosun-Colonel had any ideas that such directions as up and\r\ndown were meaningless in space, he kept them to himself. As the second\r\nplanet from its sun hove into view, he switched on the magniscan\r\neagerly.\r\n\r\n"I say, this is more like it. Clouds and all that sort of thing. Should\r\nwe have a go at it, sir?"\r\n\r\nThe Conductor yawned. "Too bloody cloudy for my taste. Too equivocal.\r\nLet\'s push on," he said languidly. "I have a hunch the third planet\r\nmight be just our dish of tea."\r\n\r\nQuelling his disappointment, the Bosun-Colonel waited for the third\r\nplanet to swim into being. And when it did, blooming like an orchid\r\nin all its greens and moistnesses, he could scarcely contain his\r\nexcitement.\r\n\r\n"Why, it looks just like Earth," he marveled. "Gad, sir, what a master\r\nstroke of navigation. How did you realize this would be it?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, I don\'t know," the Conductor said modestly. "Things usually have\r\na habit of occurring in threes. I\'m quite a student of numerology, you\r\nknow." Then he remembered the Mission and drew himself erect on all his\r\nlegs. "You may prepare for landing, Mister," he ordered crisply.\r\n\r\nThe Bosun-Colonel shifted over to manual and busied himself at the\r\nhelm, luffing the square craft down the troughs of air. Gliding over\r\nthe vast tropical oceans, he put down at a large land mass above a\r\nshallow warm sea, twenty-five degrees below the northern pole.\r\n\r\nToo numbed for comment, the crew stared out at the alien vista. They\'d\r\nheard of retarded life forms from other Missionary expeditions--of\r\nplanets where the inhabitants, in extreme emergency, had been known\r\nto commit murder. But this was surely the worst, the most vicious\r\nimaginable in the galaxy.\r\n\r\nHere, with life freshly up from the sea, freshly launched on the long\r\nclimb to maturity and self-realization--was nothing but horror. With so\r\nlush a vegetation, so easily capable of supporting them side by side\r\nin abundance, the monsters were actually feeding on each other. Great\r\nlumbering beasts they were with their bristling hides and huge tails,\r\ncharging between the giant tree ferns; gouging living chunks from one\r\nanother while razor-toothed birds with scaly wings flapped overhead,\r\nscreaming for the remnants. As the sounds of carnage came through the\r\naudio ports, the youngest Oarsman keeled over in a faint.\r\n\r\nEven the Conductor was visibly shaken. The Bosun-Colonel turned to him\r\nwith a sick expression.\r\n\r\n"Surely it\'s a lost cause, Skipper. Life like this will never have a\r\nsoul worth saving."\r\n\r\n"Not in its present stage," the Old Man was forced to agree. "Still,\r\none never knows the devious paths that evolution takes." He considered\r\nthe scene for a thoughtful, shuddering interval. "Perhaps in several\r\nthousand millenniums...."\r\n\r\nThe Bosun-Colonel tried to visualize the possibility of Ethical Life\r\never materializing through these swamp mists, but the logic against it\r\nwas too insurmountable for the imagination.\r\n\r\n"Even so," he conceded, "granting the impossible--whatever shape it\r\ntook, the only worthwhile species would still be...." He couldn\'t bring\r\nhimself to say it.\r\n\r\n"Meat-eaters," the Conductor supplied grimly.\r\n\r\nOn hearing this, the Oarsman who had just revived promptly fainted\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n"It\'s too deep in the genes," the Conductor continued, "too far\r\nadvanced for us to tamper with. All we can hope to do is modify their\r\nmoral outlook. So that by the time they achieve star travel, they\'ll at\r\nleast have a basic sense of Fair Play."\r\n\r\nSighing, bowed by responsibilities incommensurate with his\r\nchronological youth, he gave the order wearily. It was snapped down the\r\nchain of command to the Senior Yardbird:\r\n\r\n"All paws stand by to lower the Ethics Ray! Step lively, lads--bugger\r\noff, now...."\r\n\r\nThere was a din of activity as the outer locks were opened and the\r\nbulky mechanism was shipped over the side. It squatted on a cleared\r\nrise of ground in all its complex, softly ticking majesty, waiting for\r\nthe First Human to pad within range of its shedding Grace and Uplift.\r\nThe work party scrambled back to the ship, anxious to be off this\r\nsinister terrain. Once more the crew gathered at the visiplate as the\r\nplanet fell away beneath them, the Ethics Ray winking in the day\'s last\r\nlight like a cornerstone. Or perhaps a tambourine....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNight closed down on the raw chaotic world, huge beasts closed in on\r\nthe strange star-fallen souvenir. They snuffled over it; then enraged\r\nat discovering it was nothing they could fill their clamoring mindless\r\nstomachs with, attempted to wreck it. They were unsuccessful, for\r\nthe Machine had been given an extra heavy coat of shellac and things\r\nto withstand such monkeyshines. And the Machine, in its own finely\r\ncalibrated way, ignored its harassers, for they had no resemblance to\r\nthe Life it had been tuned to influence.\r\n\r\nDays lengthened into decades, eons. The seas came shouldering in to\r\nstand towers tall above the Ethics Ray, lost in the far ooze below.\r\nThen even the seas receded, and the mountains buckled upward in their\r\nplace, their arrogant stone faces staring changelessly across the\r\nepochs. Until they too were whittled down by erosion. The ice caps\r\ncrept down, crackling and grinding the valleys. The ground stretched\r\nand tossed like a restless sleeper, settled, and the Ethics Ray was\r\nbrought to light once more.\r\n\r\nAs it always had, it continued beaming its particular signal, on\r\na cosmic ray carrier modulated by a pulse a particular number of\r\nangstroms below infrared. The beasts that blundered within its field\r\nwere entirely different now, but they still weren\'t the Right Ones.\r\nAmong them were some shambling pale bipeds, dressed in skins of other\r\nbeasts, who clucked over its gleaming exterior and tried to chip it\r\naway for spearheads. In this of course they were unsuccessful.\r\n\r\nAnd then one day the First Human wandered by, paused square in the\r\npath of the beam. His physiology was only approximate, his I.Q. was\r\nregrettably low--but he was Pre-Moral Life, such as it was, on this\r\nplanet.\r\n\r\nThe Ethics Ray made the necessary frequency adjustments, tripped on\r\nfull force. The Primitive froze under the bombardment, its germ plasm\r\nshifting in the most minute and subtle dimensions. Then, its mission\r\nfulfilled, the Ethics Ray collapsed into heavy molecules and sank into\r\nthe ground. The first convert raced away in fright, having no idea what\r\nhad happened. Neither did his billion sons and daughters....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBack on the home base, the Conductor reported in at the Ethication of\r\nPrimitive Planets office. It was a magnificently imposing building,\r\nas befitting the moral seat of the universe. And the Overseer was an\r\nequally imposing human with ears greyed by service. His congratulations\r\nwere unreserved.\r\n\r\n"A splendid mission, lad," he said, "and I don\'t mind\r\nsuggesting--strictly entre nous--that it could jolly well result in a\r\nFleet Conductorship for you."\r\n\r\nThe Conductor was overwhelmed.\r\n\r\n"Now just let me jot down the essentials while they\'re still fresh in\r\nmind," he continued, pawing through a desk drawer. "Botheration! I seem\r\nto have traded the last of my styluses. Do you happen to have one on\r\nyou?"\r\n\r\n"With pleasure." The Conductor handed over his monogrammed gold stylus,\r\nreceiving in exchange a toy silencemaker.\r\n\r\n"My youngster traded it to me this morning," the Overseer chuckled.\r\n\r\nHe wrote rapidly for several moments, then gave the stylus back. The\r\nConductor found a weathered paper-weight in his rear pocket, which he\r\ntraded him for it. It looked like it might have come from this very\r\ndesk at one time. Then with a smart salute, he about-faced.\r\n\r\nOn the way out, a pair of secretaries paused in their trading of a pelt\r\nbrush for a tail-curler to watch him admiringly. As well they might.\r\nFleet Conductor!\r\n\r\nThe future Fleet Conductor of a solar system he would never think of\r\ncalling Antares paused at the door. In its polished panel he regarded\r\nhimself with due appreciation. He had sown the seeds of civilization on\r\na far-flung planet where, countless light years from now, they would\r\nflower to maturity. Not among the strongest or cleverest species, to\r\nbe sure, but among those most worthy of applying First Principles, the\r\nmoral law of give and take.\r\n\r\nAmong those remote cousins of the Conductor himself--who under no\r\ncircumstances would ever think of himself as resembling a rather\r\noversized trader rat.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ETHICATORS ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'The Seeder'

'Williams, Max'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Seeder\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Seeder\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Max Williams\r\n\r\nRelease date: December 22, 2019 [eBook #60999]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEEDER ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE SEEDER\r\n\r\n By MAX WILLIAMS\r\n\r\n Being just plain Pop was not enough--he\r\n was bucking for All-Fatherhood.\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, March 1961.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nIt took me less than three thousand years to catch up with Pop; which,\r\nall things considered, was pretty good going. I came out of overdrive\r\nat 018970 hours in orbit around an ugly-looking A3-type planet, and\r\nthere was his ship below me.\r\n\r\nI slammed my cruiser down right alongside--hard enough to pulverize a\r\ncouple of feet of basalt and make Pop and his ship bounce a little.\r\nHe\'d put me to quite a bit of trouble and I was annoyed.\r\n\r\nPop got to his feet and stood there looking kind of sheepish as I\r\nclimbed out of the cruiser. The old fool had his helmet off and was\r\nbreathing in the foul atmosphere as if it were health gas. His gills\r\nhad begun to turn a little blue from the methane and CO2. He was a\r\ncharacter all right.\r\n\r\nHis name wasn\'t really Pop, of course. I guess the nickname had been\r\ntacked on because he was such an eccentric, old codger, and because\r\nhe looked like a couple of billion years old. Actually, of course, he\r\nwasn\'t nearly that old.\r\n\r\n"Welcome aboard planet," he said. "I kind of figured you\'d be along\r\nsooner or later. Or someone like you."\r\n\r\n"Well, I\'m here," I said. He looked harmless, but I kept a 201R\r\nprojector on him just in case. Pop had given Security Division a lot of\r\ntrouble, and I had strict orders.\r\n\r\nI crawled over to his ship and slid inside. The cabin looked neat\r\nenough, but the old fool had so much junk crammed into the ship you\r\ncould hardly turn around. I found what I was looking for toward the\r\nbow--row after row of cylindrical canisters. I broke one open and the\r\nbio-detector on my back began to stutter like crazy. I dropped it and\r\nsprayed them all until they glowed dull green. By then the contents\r\nwere cooked.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nPop was still standing in the same place when I crawled out, looking as\r\ncasual as you please. He only had a few eyes on me. Most of them he had\r\nturned toward the planet\'s oversize satellite and a raw, angry-looking\r\nsea that was breaking a few ship\'s-lengths away.\r\n\r\n"How\'d you catch up with me?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Space warp. You left a trail a child could follow." I moved around\r\nhis ship and found the reason he was looking so innocent. He\'d already\r\nset up one of his canisters and the seal was about to break. I sprayed\r\nit. So much for several billion one-celled forms of life bottled under\r\npressure.\r\n\r\n"All right," I said. "That\'s the last of them. Let\'s get going."\r\n\r\n"Okay," said Pop. "Never argue with Security Division. Still, you\'ve\r\ngot to admit I gave you a good run for your money. And I seeded quite\r\na mess of planets."\r\n\r\nI shouldn\'t have done it, but I was angry. I snapped a claw across his\r\nnerve center before he could draw it back into his shell. It must have\r\nhurt plenty, because ten or twelve of his eyes began to water.\r\n\r\n"Seeded, hell!" I said. "You touched down on exactly 9080 planets, and\r\nI sterilized every one of them after you left. That\'s what took me so\r\nlong."\r\n\r\nHe seemed to shrink a little inside, and for the first time I realized\r\njust how old the nut really was.\r\n\r\n"All that time," he said. "All that effort wasted. Damn. Double damn."\r\n\r\n"You should have figured that in the first place," I said. "Central\r\nMaxim 0438 clearly states that no life is to be introduced into the\r\nouter galaxies. And don\'t ask me why. I\'m no biologist. I just follow\r\norders."\r\n\r\n"Listen," said Pop. "_Please_ listen. Back at Central Galaxy they think\r\nwe--our race--is pretty much immortal. But they don\'t _know_. They\r\ndon\'t know for sure if _any_ life will be left in our galaxy after two\r\nor three hundred wars like the last one and--"\r\n\r\n"Hold it," I said. "You\'re wasting your time. I\'m not a philosopher and\r\nyou know it."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," said Pop. "And you\'re not a biologist, either. You\r\ntold me." He waved a claw in gesture of resignation number seven.\r\n"Well, maybe you\'re right. Maybe I have been an old fool. Let\'s go\r\nhome. No use hanging around an ugly planet like this one." He made\r\ngesture of contempt number fifteen.\r\n\r\nWell, I thought, that\'s a relief. Maybe the old geezer wasn\'t as crazy\r\nas I\'d figured. Maybe he just needed some sense slapped into him. At\r\nany rate, he didn\'t make any trouble when I disintegrated his ship--the\r\nold crate wasn\'t spaceworthy to begin with--and he climbed into my\r\ncruiser meek as could be.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI put the drive in low and pulled out of the system. The next\r\nplanet--Pop had landed on the third--was going through G14\r\ndisintegration into asteroids, but I eased through without any trouble\r\nand began to pick up speed.\r\n\r\nJust then Pop swung around in his seat and made good-luck gesture eight\r\nand long-life gesture twelve toward the planet we\'d left.\r\n\r\nI stared at him. "I don\'t get it," I said. "Just a while ago you\r\nagreed that was an ugly hunk of rock. You even made contempt gesture\r\nfifteen--you spat on it."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," said Pop. "I did, didn\'t I? Right into a pool of\r\nbrackish water." Then he began to chuckle. He kept on chuckling for\r\nfive years, until I got annoyed and slapped his nerve center again.\r\n\r\nAside from that, the return voyage was uneventful.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEEDER ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'The Time of Cold'

'Carlson, Mary'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Time of Cold\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Time of Cold\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Mary Carlson\r\n\r\nRelease date: February 18, 2020 [eBook #61439]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIME OF COLD ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE TIME OF COLD\r\n\r\n BY MARY CARLSON\r\n\r\n Queer creatures! They fled the life-giving\r\n sun and hid where even tin froze solid!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1963.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nCurt felt the airship going out of control as he passed over a rock\r\nspattered stretch of sand. Automatically he looked for a smooth place\r\nto land and steered the bucking ship for it. The jolt of the landing\r\ntriggered the ejector seat and in a second he was hurtling through the\r\nair away from the explosion of the damaged vehicle. Just before he\r\nblacked out, he thought--almost calmly--"a good hundred and fifty miles\r\nfrom the colony."\r\n\r\nWhen he regained consciousness, night was passing and the first of the\r\nthree suns was peeking over the horizon. Curt lay still for a while,\r\nafraid to find out what might be wrong with him. And the rescue ship\r\ncould take anything from an hour to a week to find him. He moved his\r\nhead to discover if there might be anything left of his ship; he saw\r\nnothing but pieces.\r\n\r\n"Well," he said aloud, "so much for that." He reached back gingerly\r\nand undid the seat straps. Carefully, he sat up and began to ease his\r\nweight onto his feet. A sharp twinge of pain in his knee dropped him\r\nback to a sitting position. He probed at the knee but found no broken\r\nbones.\r\n\r\n"Well," he said again, quietly. The colony leaders had had very little\r\nto offer in the way of survival. Rule number 1: Mark the crash site and\r\nyour direction of travel. Number 2: Get into shade before the combined\r\nheat of the three suns boils your blood. Number 3: Carry your pistol\r\nfor protection against liquid scorpions, and always save the last\r\npellet for yourself.\r\n\r\nCurt glanced about nervously at the thought of the liquid\r\nscorpions--the one form of animal life the colonist had found on this\r\nmineral-rich planet. Liquid scorpions were enormous masses of clear,\r\njellyish liquid that oozed forward across the rock and sand with\r\nremarkable speed. A liquid scorpion changed shape constantly, its mass\r\nshooting out legs wherever they were needed. Only the eyes, fixed in a\r\nbulge over the center of its mass, and the almost-solid, curved stinger\r\nthat arched over its back remained the same.\r\n\r\nThe first landing party had stood transfixed while one of the crew was\r\nattacked and absorbed before their eyes. Clear, the scorpion had been\r\nalmost invisible to them until it flowed about the navigator\'s legs and\r\nparalyzed him with the swaying stinger. When his frantic struggles had\r\nceased, the creature flowed over his body and absorbed it. As the party\r\nwatched, the clearness slowly became a thin, dark red, and the body\r\ncould no longer be seen.\r\n\r\nAvengers had poured out of the ship after the giant scorpion, which\r\nreared back, tripling its height and halving its width. At the apex,\r\nthe two protruding eyes bulged at them and the stinger swayed back and\r\nforth, reaching out and retreating. Explosive pellets fired into its\r\nflesh were absorbed with a slurping sound. The captain in the end, had\r\nknelt and taken careful aim at the right eye, behind which was the\r\nonly unreddened sector of the mass. When the right eye disappeared,\r\nthe clear area spurted out of the hole and drained over the jelly-like\r\nsurface. Slowly, silently, the first of the liquid scorpions died.\r\n\r\nCurt counted the pellets in his belt--an even hundred. Enough ... if\r\nhe managed to keep out of sight and had good enough aim. He surveyed\r\nthe surrounding countryside. Farther along the valley were shaded caves\r\nwhere he could find protection once he had marked his course.\r\n\r\nIf he could walk that far.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nXen came sluggishly awake, feeling the warmth penetrate his mass. The\r\ntime of heat had come again, the time to search for what would halt the\r\nhunger that ached through every inch of him.\r\n\r\nSlowly, his cold-stiffened mass flowed forward from its hiding place in\r\nthe warmth-holding sand. The heat melted the stiffness out of him and\r\nhe began to slide across the sand, his alert senses functioning again.\r\nSense of touch led him across rocks and over ridges easily. The touchy\r\nsense of vibration waited apprehensively for movement that would\r\nshake the ground. And the third sense, the one that could be called\r\nonly "sense" or "sense of knowing," functioned as always without his\r\nunderstanding. Today, this third sense told Xen, was different from\r\nother days.\r\n\r\nExtra-cautious, Xen oozed over rocky barriers in the direction that his\r\n"sense" told him held food. Once he felt a slight tremor, and in terror\r\nflooded out over the rock into thin, transparent nothing. He waited\r\nseveral degrees of heat, but no further movement touched the sensitive\r\nreceivers in his mass.\r\n\r\nA falling rock, he decided, collecting himself and starting forward\r\nagain. He slithered down rocky walls, pouring almost like water when\r\nthe drop was long and drawing together at the bottom. When his feeling\r\nof touch warned him of the shade whose coolness might solidify him and\r\nleave him helpless in the open, he drew hurriedly away and changed\r\ndirection.\r\n\r\nFinally, he reached an open spot that was likely to contain food.\r\nHis mass ached for something to consume, but he flooded himself thin\r\nagain and waited, feeling. There was no vibration through the surface,\r\nnor did his "sense" tell him of anything other than the possibility\r\nof nourishment. Xen hesitated only a degree of heat before bubbling\r\nexcitedly into the open space.\r\n\r\nTouch found him something edible almost immediately--he flowed around\r\nand over it, absorbing it hungrily. His mass dissolved it almost\r\nimmediately and ached for more. He slid thin, reaching out in every\r\ndirection until contact was made, then absorbing the food instantly and\r\nmoving on.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCurt, lying in meager shade that would be gone in half an hour when\r\nthe third and largest sun rose, first saw the movement when it was on\r\nthe rocks. His already frayed nerves gave a frightened leap. He lay\r\nperfectly still. Where he had seen the movement on the rocky shelf\r\nthere was now nothing.\r\n\r\nThe nothing moved forward.\r\n\r\nCurt shivered. He was certain he was seeing nothing, and yet his eyes\r\nwere trying to tell him there was movement. When it reached the flat\r\nplace and flowed swiftly forward, he realized that it was a liquid\r\nanimal and was suddenly pointedly conscious of the weight of the pistol\r\nagainst his hip.\r\n\r\nHe watched carefully for the eyes and the stinger, but saw none. That\r\nfrightened him. If he could not find the brain, he had no mark to\r\nshoot at. As he watched, the liquid creature flowed against one of the\r\nhardy, sun-browned plants and jerked in reaction. Instantly, it flowed\r\nover the plant and absorbed it. The liquid turned momentarily a thin\r\nbrownish green and then cleared again.\r\n\r\nCurt watched it with narrowed eyes. It was just possible that this\r\ncreature ate only plant life. The colonists had realized that the\r\nliquid scorpions had fed upon something else before they arrived, but\r\nno one had been able to discover what that something was.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nXen was in the process of absorbing a plant when the vibration sense\r\nalerted him. Terror shot through him and he spread thinly across thirty\r\nfeet of ground and lay motionless, his "sense" telling him frantically\r\nthat a Sting was hunting nearby.\r\n\r\nHe lay for many degrees of heat, waiting. Sense of vibration and\r\nknowing both told him that the Sting was approaching, but uncertainly,\r\nsearching. Then both senses reacted startledly to a new danger on the\r\nother side. New movement! A new feeling that his "sense" could not\r\nunderstand.\r\n\r\nThe Sting was approaching at an angle that would inevitably bring it in\r\ncontact with Xen. Absorption was the penalty for being caught. Xen was\r\nresigned to death, for he could not possibly escape the Sting. And now\r\nthere was this new sensation on the other side of him. Whatever it was,\r\nhe had no idea; but likely it was as voracious as the Sting.\r\n\r\nNow the new thing vibrated jerkily around him and stopped between him\r\nand the Sting. The vibrations from the eager Sting accelerated rapidly,\r\neagerly, as it flowed over the ground. Then, for no reason except that\r\nthe new creature had moved slightly, the Sting recoiled. The jerks were\r\nplainly recorded through the earth to Xen; and as he felt the heavy\r\njar, his "sense" told him that the danger from the Sting was past. The\r\nSting was dead.\r\n\r\nXen drew himself together and considered that.\r\n\r\nThe new thing vibrated jerkily the place from which Xen had first felt\r\nit move. It must be solid as the rocks to move so jerkily, Xen thought.\r\nThe Sting-killer drew itself back under the enormous rock and ceased to\r\nmove.\r\n\r\nCuriosity drew Xen forward, fear dragged him back. He spread thin and\r\ndrew together with uncertainty. At last, he oozed forward carefully\r\nuntil he reached the rock. The Sting-killer was pressed back under the\r\nrock, where touch told Xen a tiny amount of the cold-carrying shade\r\nremained. Xen puzzled at that. Why should this creature hide from the\r\nlife-giving suns?\r\n\r\nHe reached out and absorbed a plant thoughtfully. This thing was\r\ndifferent from the liquid structures he had always known. If it was\r\nsolid where they were liquid, perhaps then it was also opposite in its\r\nneeds. Maybe this Sting-killer needed cold instead of heat.\r\n\r\nWhile Xen was considering this difficult thought, the Sting-killer\r\nbegan to move again.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCurt gasped. The shade was gone. The third sun was reaching long rays\r\nunder the rock to sear his already-burned flesh. He had to find more\r\nshade.\r\n\r\nMovements were very painful. His lips were cracking and his face had\r\nblackened. The injured knee had swollen inside the protective suit; it\r\nthrobbed and ached. Dazedly, he pulled himself to his feet.\r\n\r\nOn the rock beside him, spread an inch thick, was the almost-invisible\r\ncreature he had been forced to circle in order to stop the liquid\r\nscorpion. He wondered tiredly if it was dangerous. It lay completely\r\nmotionless, just as it had when the liquid scorpion had approached. So\r\nit was probably more afraid of him than he was of it. He turned away.\r\nThere appeared to be shade down the valley--perhaps a mile, perhaps\r\nthree. Too much for him, he knew, but he set out, feeling the sun beat\r\ncruelly at him, crying out when the pain in his knee forced him to\r\ncatch his balance against the sun-heated rock.\r\n\r\nHe knew without turning that the liquid creature was following him,\r\nstopping when he stopped, starting when he started. When he knew he\r\ncould go no farther and felt his knee give weakly to his weight, he saw\r\nit ooze forward and began to flow over his legs. He tried to reach his\r\npistol, but it seemed so far away.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nXen, following the Sting-killer curiously, put together all that he had\r\nlearned. This creature was different from himself. It needed shade. It\r\nhad killed his enemy, which was possibly also its own enemy. Now it was\r\ntrying to reach the shade, but its progress grew steadily slower.\r\n\r\nHe considered that progress. The only thing he could liken it to was\r\none of his own kind, caught out in the time of cold, trying to reach\r\nthe heat-retaining sands, slowly congealing into a solid mass and\r\ndying. This, then, was the reverse process. Perhaps the Sting-killer\r\nwould become liquid after a certain degree of heat.\r\n\r\nXen\'s sense of knowing warned him gently about too much wandering\r\nin the open, where countless Stings could be hiding. He drew back,\r\nunwilling to stop following this interesting creature. The Sting-killer\r\nvibrated the ground and lay still suddenly. Xen waited for a "sense" of\r\ndeath but none came. This might be for the new thing a stage similar to\r\nthat when one of Xen\'s own kind became unable to move from the cold,\r\nbut still lived and feared.\r\n\r\nCaught between his own fear and a very strange sensation that he could\r\nnot interpret, Xen waited a degree of heat. Then he oozed forward and\r\nspread himself over the still shape, until it floated within him. When\r\nhe flowed over one part, the thing struggled pitiably. Xen drew back\r\nstartedly and the movement ceased. Carefully, he retraced his course,\r\nleaving the part free. This time there was no struggling.\r\n\r\nSpurred by fear of Stings, Xen began to flow across the land, letting\r\nhis "Sense" guide him to the coldness. He slithered up slopes, poured\r\nover steep drops, always collecting himself in time to catch his burden.\r\n\r\nHe found a place that would stay cold until the next time of heat\r\nand halted in front of it, his anxiety evident in the way he spread\r\nand collected himself, back and forth. At last he inched forward,\r\nfeeling the agony of the cold bite into every cell. Bunching himself\r\nbehind the Sting-killer, he made it flow along him until it broke\r\nfree and lay upon the shaded rock. Xen drew back as hurriedly as his\r\nalready-sluggish mass would allow. He spread thin across the earth and\r\nlet the heat liquefy his body again....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was when the time of cold was only a few degrees away that Xen felt\r\nthe heavy vibration which nearly made him dissolve with fear. It lasted\r\nfor a few degrees and then weakened and made only a small tremor. Now\r\nmany smaller vibrations reached him, like many creatures moving about.\r\nThe tremors spread out, moving slowly toward the rocky valley.\r\n\r\nXen lay still trying to identify the vibrations. They were not those of\r\nStings. As they approached, he recognized them as resembling in great\r\nnumbers the creature he had put upon the rock.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCurt imagined he heard voices, an incoherent babble of them. He\r\nstruggled to sit up, but there was an incredible weight on his chest.\r\n\r\n"Lie still," a voice said clearly, and his mind echoed, "Still ...\r\nstill ... still...."\r\n\r\nHe struggled again. "Liquid," he croaked painfully, "liquid animal ...\r\nliquid...." The weight was still there. He heard one last voice say,\r\n"Poor guy, he must have run into scorpions."\r\n\r\nThen he was lifted and it seemed as though the lifting would never\r\ncease.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nXen waited until the small tremor was gone and the great vibration had\r\nroared and disappeared. He knew by the sense of emptiness that the\r\nSting-killer had gone back to his own kind. For a moment he felt very\r\nalone, though he knew the sand was full of Xens.\r\n\r\nSlowly, he drew himself together. For the time of cold was but a few\r\ndegrees away, and he must seek the warm sands.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TIME OF COLD ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'The Grave of Solon Regh'

'Stearns, Charles A.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Grave of Solon Regh\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Grave of Solon Regh\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Charles A. Stearns\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Joseph Eberle\r\n\r\nRelease date: November 7, 2020 [eBook #63662]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAVE OF SOLON REGH ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n The Grave of Solon Regh\r\n\r\n By CHAS. A. STEARNS\r\n\r\n _Among the miserable Ghels of southern Mars\r\n George Seeling ventured--ready to share his\r\n fearless feats with all the world--but hardly\r\n ready to share the grave of Solon Regh._\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Planet Stories Winter 1954.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nGeorge Seeling was one of the most personable ghouls you would ever\r\ncare to meet. When he disappeared three years ago, somewhere in the\r\nunexplored wilderness of southern Mars, his loss was mourned not only\r\nby the Terran Museum of Natural History, for whom he worked, but by a\r\nmultitude of lovers of adventure by proxy, as well, who kept up with\r\nhis astounding fortunes through their daily papers.\r\n\r\nFor George Seeling, who feared nothing that walked, crawled, flew, or\r\npulsed, and who owned, moreover, a shining pair of seven league boots,\r\nin the form of an inexhaustible expense account, believed in sharing\r\nhimself with the public. He adored publicity.\r\n\r\nThere was the time, for instance, that he made off with the crown\r\njewels of the Tsarn Princess of Ganymede. The people loved it. All of\r\nthem excepting, of course, the Ganymedians. They were considerably\r\nupset, but being a minority group, there was not much that they could\r\ndo, once Seeling had escaped with the jewels.\r\n\r\nThen there was the celebrated occasion of his robbing the crypts of\r\nNakor, the Moon Goddess of Io. From Io he swiped several golden idols\r\nof inestimable value, which was just as well, for they were not doing\r\nthe natives the least bit of good, despite their complaints. It almost\r\ncaused an international incident, but the Museum kept the treasure, and\r\ntheir procurer collected a fat commission.\r\n\r\nThis, as one can readily see, demonstrates graphically that George\r\nSeeling felt almost as much at home in tombs as he did in the public\r\neye.\r\n\r\nThe south of Mars is a rugged land of naked, red peaks and deep,\r\nimpassable canyons; of reed-filled swamp lands and barren plateaus. The\r\npeople who live there are primitive, and thin as greyhounds, but of a\r\nshy, gentle nature, with huge, dark, melting eyes set deep in leathery,\r\npurplish skin, and nervous, splayed bare feet that can pad the sands\r\nof the uplands at incredible speed.\r\n\r\nTo George Seeling the ghels were merely an incidental impression to\r\nadd to the menagerie of weird people from many worlds that already\r\nstuffed his brain and made him rather a cosmopolitan with regard to\r\nalien cultures. He had already spent several weeks on Mars; most of it\r\nin Parthena, the chief spaceport of southern Mars, where he haunted the\r\nbars of the native district, asking, seeking, wheedling, bribing, until\r\nhe found what he sought--a man who could lead him to one of the old\r\ncities that lay hidden back in the hills.\r\n\r\nSo it came about that he landed himself and his guide in a rented\r\n\'copter on a certain, uncharted mountainside to the south and west of\r\nParthena.\r\n\r\nThrough the field glasses, the minarets of the city were just visible,\r\nbut it was impossible to get any closer for there was no place to land.\r\nThe old Martians had been averse to flat roofs, a circumstance which\r\nled Seeling to doubt, audibly, that they could have had the sense of an\r\naddled eel.\r\n\r\nAfter loading himself down with the paraphernalia that explorers are\r\nsupposed to carry, he went on alone, the guide declining an invitation\r\nto accompany him.\r\n\r\nIt was almost dark when he stumbled over the first bit of masonry--some\r\nprehistoric curbstone, perhaps. He had walked for hours in a tangled\r\nforest of giant reeds, and the suddenness of his discovery startled him.\r\n\r\nHe had wandered right into the midst of the abandoned city without even\r\nknowing it. Such was the customary luck of George Seeling. He could see\r\nshadowy outlines of some of the eroding old towers from where he stood,\r\nbut he knew it was too late in the evening to explore them safely. He\r\nhad waited this long; it wouldn\'t hurt to wait through one more short,\r\nMartian night.\r\n\r\nHe found a clearing near a roofless columnar tower and spread his\r\nsleeping bag beneath its wall. He went to sleep elated with his good\r\nfortune, and slept dreamlessly, and without disturbance.\r\n\r\nBut then, it took a great deal to disturb George Seeling when he slept.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn the morning the ghels were there. There were about a dozen of them,\r\nsilently squatting in a semi-circle about his camp, contemplating him\r\nat a respectful distance with their soulful, gazelle eyes.\r\n\r\nThere is something disconcerting about waking up and finding that one\r\nhas acquired uninvited guests, but Seeling never turned a hair. He\r\nreached over and grabbed his rifle, but the ghels never moved. They\r\nlooked, for all the world, like purple-brown graven images squatting\r\nthere, except that the round, black eyes blinked once in a while.\r\n\r\nThe ghel tongue was a very rudimentary one, and Seeling, who was\r\nnaturally adept at such things, had studied it at some length during\r\nthe weeks in Parthena. He felt that he could get along.\r\n\r\n"I greet you," he said, still fondling his rifle. "I am an Earthman."\r\n\r\n"We know," one of the ghels said in a curious, whistling voice. "What\r\ndo you want here?"\r\n\r\n"I come to see the city," George said.\r\n\r\n"This is the sacred dead city of Solon Regh, the wisest of the ancient\r\nones. We do not welcome visitors here."\r\n\r\n"It\'s not your city, dammit," George said.\r\n\r\n"What did you say?"\r\n\r\n"Sorry, I said, this is not the work of your race. Why do you care if I\r\nlook around?"\r\n\r\n"It is a shrine. The old ones took care of us before they went away. We\r\nloved them, and do not want their dead disturbed."\r\n\r\nGeorge Seeling grinned with delight. He never enjoyed himself so much\r\nas when he was where he wasn\'t supposed to be.\r\n\r\n"We would be very sad if the dead were desecrated," the ghel said.\r\n\r\n"Umm," said Seeling impudently, "but what would you do if I went ahead\r\nand desecrated them anyway?"\r\n\r\nThe head ghel looked shocked. He turned his saucer eyes on his\r\ncompanions, and they all squirmed on their haunches and looked shocked\r\ntoo.\r\n\r\n"We would be very sad," the ghel answered.\r\n\r\n"No hard feelings," George Seeling said, "but if the advancement of\r\nscience and the dispersal of knowledge were left up to you fellows, the\r\nworld would be in a hell of a fix." He aimed his rifle suggestively at\r\nthe ghel\'s chest. "Do you know what this is that I am pointing at you?"\r\n\r\n"It is a death stick. We have seen them before."\r\n\r\n"Right. Now, there\'s something you can do for me, and I\'ll take it very\r\nkindly if you cooperate."\r\n\r\n"Kindness is something we understand."\r\n\r\n"That\'s fine. Somewhere about here are the tombs of the old race. All\r\nthe legends of Mars tell about the wealth of the ancients, and I hear\r\nthis Solon Regh was sort of a Martian King Tut. Lead me there, and I\'ll\r\nbe kind enough to spare your life."\r\n\r\nThe ghels all blinked their eyes rapidly. Seeling fancied that there\r\nwould have been tears in their eyes, except that ghels have no tear\r\nglands. He felt a little sorry for them.\r\n\r\n"Come with us," the leader of the ghels said.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSeeling was properly impressed. He had seen enough of the old cultures\r\nof the planets to realize that here, indeed, was something special. The\r\nwalls loomed high above his head, shutting out the light of the morning\r\nsun as he walked down the street canyons where the vegetation had not\r\nyet penetrated. The ghels padded on ahead of him.\r\n\r\nThere was a musty smell about the place. Most appropriate. And the old\r\ntimers had quite a flair for architecture, he thought. The masonry was\r\na kind of cemented substance that was nearly as hard as granite. The\r\nweather had eroded it into a lovely, pearly grayness that was satiny\r\nsmooth to the touch. He stroked the walls lovingly, and wished that he\r\ncould transport the whole place back to Earth.\r\n\r\nAt the end of one street a bright yellow kral snake struck at him and\r\nhe killed it with the butt of his rifle. They encountered no other\r\nlife. Everywhere there was silence.\r\n\r\nThe ghels made several turns through narrow passageways, and all at\r\nonce Seeling was face to face with the most breathtaking sight he had\r\never beheld.\r\n\r\nIn a great, hidden courtyard the palace lay. It was at least six\r\nhundred feet high, from massive base to delicate multiple pinnacles\r\nthat festooned the arched roof. The facade was inscribed with countless\r\nlacy designs, set into the mother masonry with snowy white stones.\r\n\r\nThe great arched doorway gaped open invitingly to the kind of darkness\r\nthat Seeling found most exciting.\r\n\r\nThe ghels stopped. "You are certain that you will not change your mind?"\r\n\r\n"Look here," Seeling said. "I\'ve come here to collect artifacts, or\r\nanything I can lay my hands on for my people on Earth. If I don\'t bring\r\nsomething good back, they\'ll send others who won\'t be as patient with\r\nyou as I am."\r\n\r\n"That is sad, indeed, for the Radiance that made us still lingers in\r\nthe castle," said the ghel.\r\n\r\n"I\'m not going to hurt His Radiant Majesty, whoever he is," Seeling\r\nsaid. "What I want is junk--stuff that you never use anyhow. So let\'s\r\nget on with it."\r\n\r\nGeorge Seeling was panting by the time he had climbed to the top of the\r\ncentral tower. He had always thought of a tomb as some damp, dark hole\r\nbeneath the surface of the ground, for such had been his experience\r\nmany times before. But the resting place of Solon Regh the Wise was a\r\nlarge, light room, not half so eerie as the big throne room below, for\r\ninstance.\r\n\r\nIt took him five minutes to work the mechanism of the outer door. When\r\nhe got it open he went in and found a convenient coffin to sit on,\r\nwiped the sweat from his forehead, and indulged in a cigarette before\r\ncontinuing.\r\n\r\nThe room had no windows, but there was light coming in from the\r\ngreat transparent dome of roof. A cheerful place, he thought, for a\r\ncrypt. There were six coffins in the room, neatly arranged around its\r\nperiphery. He wondered which one was Solon Regh\'s.\r\n\r\nAll of the biers were plain, untarnished metal--a silvery alloy he\r\ncouldn\'t quite identify. Upon one of them there was a modest crest, or\r\nsymbol. That one, he decided, must be the coffin of Solon Regh.\r\n\r\nHe was feeling a little ill. A headache from the altitude, he thought.\r\nOr perhaps he\'d caught a touch of the fever. Better to get it over with\r\nand get out of here. All the pleasure of discovery was gone now.\r\n\r\nHe took out his array of chisels and went to work on the coffin, which\r\nyielded easily to his professional looter\'s touch. The lid was light\r\nand slid aside soundlessly.\r\n\r\nGeorge Seeling came face to face with Solon Regh. The relics of\r\nRegh the Wise seemed to be in perfect condition. Over all lay a\r\nsemi-transparent coating of a waxy substance--the preservative, he\r\nsupposed. The figure was as large as his own. The old race must have\r\nbeen much closer, genetically, to his own than the ghels.\r\n\r\nBut Seeling was not concerned with any of this. He flopped Solon\r\nRegh over on his belly without ceremony and examined the bottom of\r\nthe coffin. It was no use. No treasure here. He did find something,\r\nhowever. The ring on Solon Regh\'s finger. He chipped off the\r\npreservative, slid the ring off and put it in his pocket. Then he\r\nexamined the other coffins. Wives, perhaps, and dignitaries of court,\r\nthese had been. There were both male and female. But no jewelry.\r\n\r\nHe searched the room carefully, but there was nothing to be found.\r\nIt had not been their custom, then, to bury their treasures with\r\nthe dead--or perhaps the ghels had taken it. No matter, he knew the\r\nfutility of looking further.\r\n\r\nWhen a race chose to hide its treasures, rather than try to take them\r\nalong to the happy hunting grounds, they usually did a good job. He\r\nremembered searching in vain for a solid year in the catacombs of\r\nNeptune once.\r\n\r\nHis face was burning with some inner fire now; he knew that he must\r\nhave a high fever. He felt much worse. But to go back empty handed!\r\n\r\nAnd suddenly he knew that he would not.\r\n\r\nHe took the steps back down to the throne room three at a time, for he\r\nfelt, strangely, that he must hurry. The ghels were still waiting for\r\nhim there in the gloom. There seemed to be more of them now, but he\r\ndidn\'t bother to count.\r\n\r\n"I want eight of you," he said. "You are to come with me up to the\r\ncrypts. I\'m taking the coffin of Solon Regh back with me, and you are\r\ngoing to carry it. I don\'t want any arguments. I\'ll pay you whatever\r\nyou want, but it\'s got to be done right away."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey were not a strong race, the ghels, and the box was without\r\nhandles, but they finally got it to their shoulders. Twice coming down\r\nthe spiraling staircases they slipped, and he cursed them furiously,\r\nthen was amazed that he could be so distraught.\r\n\r\nThey carried it down to the throneroom and set it down. The big rotunda\r\nwas full of ghels by this time; hundreds of them.\r\n\r\n"What the hell is this?" George Seeling said, and his voice sounded\r\nthick to him. "If you\'re going to start trouble--I\'ll kill the first\r\nghel that lays a hand on me or the coffin."\r\n\r\nHe waited for an answer. There was not a sound among the dark multitude\r\nof ghels. They watched him, sorrowfully.\r\n\r\n"Well?" Seeling bellowed.\r\n\r\nThe ghel who had talked with him before said, "We are gathered here for\r\na telling. Will you crouch there and hear us?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know what you\'re talking about!"\r\n\r\n"Please hear us."\r\n\r\nSeeling looked around him. Better not to antagonize them at that, he\r\nsupposed, since it seemed that they had no intentions, at present, of\r\ndoing anything drastic.\r\n\r\nHe waited.\r\n\r\n"Long ago," the ghel said, "there were the old ones. They were as gods,\r\nand knew great magic. All was happiness. But the magic was not great\r\nenough, for one day there came invaders from beyond the stars, and\r\nsprayed the cities with green fire that was so light that its touch\r\ncould not be felt, and yet it killed in great numbers--and the rest it\r\nchanged.\r\n\r\n"Solon Regh, who was wise, took his family about him and hid in the\r\ntower behind air-tight doors where the green fire could not come. Many\r\nweeks he stayed there, with an air purifier to keep out the radiance,\r\nand let in fresh air, and at last the enemy left. The ones who were\r\nleft had changed more and more, so that even in their heads they were\r\naffected, and could scarcely take care of themselves.\r\n\r\n"Solon Regh, from behind his steel door, where the pure air was,\r\nsorrowed for us, and counseled us to pick up our lives as best we\r\ncould. He did not dare come out because the radiance did not leave, but\r\nhung about the palace. We did not care any more. We knew the radiance\r\nwould always be there, but it could not hurt us now. Solon Regh and\r\nhis family did all they could for us, and remembered all the wonderful\r\nknowledge that we had forgotten. They tried to teach us, but we had\r\nforgotten how to learn, too."\r\n\r\n"We? We?" George Seeling screamed. "What are you talking about?"\r\n\r\n"We ghels. Do you not understand? _We_ were the old ones."\r\n\r\n"Oh, God!" George said.\r\n\r\n"The Radiance is still in the buildings. That is what we tried to tell\r\nyou before. But it is too late now. It has touched you."\r\n\r\n"Let me out of here!" Seeling sobbed. "I won\'t be changed by any damned\r\nradiation. I\'ll go back to Earth. They\'ll help me. They\'ll know what to\r\ndo. He-help me, dammit!"\r\n\r\n"You will not go back," the ghel said. "I am sorry, but you really\r\ncannot go back like this; you will be more at home here from now on."\r\n\r\nAll the ghels looked at George Seeling with sad, limpid stares. They\r\nwere silent. There wasn\'t any more to be said. Nothing that they could\r\nthink of.\r\n\r\nAnd George Seeling, squatting there, gazed back at them with big,\r\nsaucer eyes.\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAVE OF SOLON REGH ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Space-Trap at Banya Tor'

'Matthews, W. J. (William J.)'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Space-Trap at Banya Tor\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Space-Trap at Banya Tor\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: W. J. Matthews\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Max Elkan\r\n\r\nRelease date: February 28, 2021 [eBook #64655]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACE-TRAP AT BANYA TOR ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n SPACE-TRAP AT BANYA TOR\r\n\r\n By W. J. MATTHEWS\r\n\r\n Exciting entertainment, these telecasts of dashing\r\n pirates, gorgeous victims and the always stupid Space\r\n Patrol, but Jeff Thorne, famed Derelict of Mars, was\r\n grimly bent on stopping them--in all their ghastly reality!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Planet Stories Spring 1948.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe three patrolmen leaped to their feet, saluting as they arose.\r\nBannerman, the Superintendent, extended a hearty fist.\r\n\r\n"Welcome, General Wheelwright," he exclaimed, clicking his polished\r\nheels.\r\n\r\n"Glad to be aboard, gentlemen," rasped the Inspector-General of the\r\nPlanet Patrol, returning the salute. His broad chest, scaled from\r\nthroat to belt with the medals of twenty worlds, tinkled musically as\r\nhe rumbled the brusque greeting. "At ease. Resume your game. Bannerman,\r\na word with you, if you please."\r\n\r\nAs the Superintendent closed the black door behind them, he glanced\r\napprehensively at his superior. The big man had slumped in limp\r\nexhaustion into the office chair before Bannerman\'s desk.\r\n\r\n"Well, sir?" Bannerman finally asked. "Chain Lucas?"\r\n\r\n"No," replied the General, hardly lifting his head. "Not yet." He\r\nstared fixedly at his glittering boots, cool runnels of light glancing\r\nalong their polished curves.\r\n\r\n"Senator Chanler is dead."\r\n\r\n"Dead? Old Scrooge?" Bannerman\'s startled incredulity was tempered by\r\na sudden enthusiasm he made no great effort to conceal. "Who poisoned\r\nhim?" he inquired.\r\n\r\n"Come now, Bannerman," replied Wheelwright, repressing a wan smile. "I\r\ngrant you he was a parsimonious fool, but at least we managed to skin\r\nour appropriations through his committee one way or another."\r\n\r\n"Skinned is certainly the word for it, sir," agreed Bannerman shortly.\r\n\r\n"I\'m afraid we\'ll remember Scrooge with regret," Wheelwright gloomily\r\nrejoined. "What the new Senator on the committee will do to the\r\nappropriation will ground half our ships."\r\n\r\n"I had hoped for a relief," sighed Bannerman. "Who\'s the new man?"\r\n\r\n"Chanler\'s daughter, Iris," replied Wheelwright. "Yes, yes, I know,"\r\nhe added testily as Bannerman\'s jaw fell open. "The girl\'s a reigning\r\nbeauty, famous on half a dozen worlds. The World Council appointed\r\nher to fill the Senator\'s unexpired term. Just the usual courtesy, of\r\ncourse, but she flew back from Venus and threw herself wholeheartedly\r\ninto the job."\r\n\r\n"Has she long to serve?"\r\n\r\n"She hadn\'t, but she knows publicity. Had enough of it, Lord knows. She\r\nran for the next term and was re-elected."\r\n\r\n"But she\'s wealthy in her own right, they say. Surely she didn\'t\r\ninherit Chanler\'s parsimony with his office?"\r\n\r\n"Of course not, Bannerman. She\'s famous for her easy way with money,\r\nand her Chanler\'s daughter. Notorious, if you like. But the girl\'s\r\na featherbrain, a romantic. Devotee of these gangster telecasts\r\nglorifying crime." Wheelwright\'s snort was eloquent of his disgust.\r\n\r\n"I know. We get them here, too. Same old Formula Number One, the Robin\r\nHood motif. Clean-living space-hawk raiding the lanes, confounding the\r\nstupid Planet Patrol, scattering his loot to the poor. Very true to\r\nlife."\r\n\r\n"It was corn five hundred years ago," scowled Wheelwright. "But it\r\ndrags them in today." He pounded the arm of his chair. "Who believes\r\ncrime does not pay when they can see for themselves on a hundred\r\nscanner-screens that it does pay, and handsomely? Of course it\'s\r\nfiction and they know it, but it tends to build up a subtle disrespect\r\nfor law and the Patrol in their minds. What ruined the old Congress but\r\nthe popular conception of them as a bunch of hick yokels stumbling over\r\na job too big for their provincial minds? These gangster things run\r\nin cycles, of course, but I\'d like to see this one run out right now."\r\n\r\n"True enough, sir," nodded Bannerman, soberly. "I\'ve noticed their\r\neffect on the inner worlds. And you feel they influence the new ...\r\nSenator?"\r\n\r\n"I\'d bet on it," growled Wheelwright. "When she was appointed, I\r\nslipped in operatives. You know how those household groups talk. And we\r\nknow she had prejudices long before Chanler died. We\'ve had to hold up\r\ntwo or three of her interplanetary junkets on that toy yacht he gave\r\nher, for her own safety, of course, but she\'s not forgotten. And she\r\nlived for years with Chanler\'s groans on the waste and inefficiency of\r\nthe Patrol."\r\n\r\n"Has she his power?"\r\n\r\n"With her looks? More. She can block our whole appropriation or pare it\r\nto the bone."\r\n\r\n"And you think she might?" Bannerman was grimly serious.\r\n\r\n"She talks of cutting us down, trimming off the fat, she calls it. Back\r\nto the efficiency of the old pioneering days when men were men and\r\nrockets were really rockets." He grinned wryly. "Between the screens\r\nand Chain Lucas, she thinks it all a big, exciting game staked against\r\nthe daring outlaw. Romantic," he added.\r\n\r\nBannerman cursed. "I wonder how romantic those poor women thought it\r\nwas when they were tied up to the \'Orion\'s\' dice bar and beaten to\r\ndeath with iron bars? Or the seven we found cut to pieces in the wreck\r\nof the \'Pantagruel?\' And the pretty ballad of the \'Stargazer,\' her\r\nwhole crew and most of the passengers pushed through airlocks into the\r\nvoid?"\r\n\r\n"Horror retailed from eighty million miles troubles no one," replied\r\nWheelwright. "She\'s a wild and reckless girl drunk with her own beauty\r\nand this new power, Bannerman. Undisciplined, she means to discipline\r\nus. She\'ll push us fifty years back down our own trail. We can\'t risk\r\nit, Bannerman."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe Superintendent stared thoughtfully at his superior. He tapped his\r\ndesk gently with the long Mercurian dagger used as letter-opener. "What\r\ndo you propose, sir? You\'re not here for nothing."\r\n\r\n"You can put that away," said Wheelwright, with some reluctance. "We\'re\r\nnot romantic, Bannerman. We\'ll find a better way."\r\n\r\n"Seizing Chain Lucas?"\r\n\r\n"A month ago it might have helped. Now, frankly, taking him might do\r\nmore harm than good."\r\n\r\n"His reputation, I suppose."\r\n\r\n"Exactly. I suppose he is the prototype of those telecasts we spoke\r\nof a moment ago, a daring buccaneer attacking on sight under our very\r\nnoses, raiding but not killing, the most romantic of them all. Should\r\nwe get him, the cleverest lawyers of the System would fight to defend\r\nhim and we\'d end up defending our own system against them all. They\'d\r\nhave our blood for persecuting the Robin Hood of the star-ways."\r\n\r\n"Robin Hood!" sneered Bannerman. "If they could see Banya Tor!"\r\n\r\n"Exactly," agreed Wheelwright, grimly. He leaned forward, tapping\r\nBannerman\'s desk with a lean forefinger, his grey brows fierce over his\r\nbright dark eyes. "The one place Lucas slipped his men, let them kill\r\nfor the sheer piratical joy of killing. We had nothing sure before, but\r\non Banya Tor he spun his own death-rope. Nothing has been touched, as\r\nordered?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing, sir. The air-dome is still smashed where he drove his ship\r\nthrough as the Patrol came down from the hills. The ... the bodies are\r\nstill just as his butchers left them. Frozen."\r\n\r\nWheelwright leaned back, clasping his knee in its black and silver\r\nhose. His eyes fell. "I can\'t quite feature it. Perhaps he thought he\r\ncould clean up the asteroid afterward; perhaps his crew just got tired\r\nplaying Robin Hood. Anyway, letting off steam at Banya Tor is going\r\nto cut short Chain Lucas\' career before many days are out. I\'ve seen\r\nthings on the runs we don\'t talk about, Bannerman, but those women\r\nhanged in their own dresses over fires...." He shuddered violently.\r\nBannerman nodded.\r\n\r\n"And the necklaces of hands and eyes Lucas hung on others before his\r\nmen dismembered them by inches," he added grimly.\r\n\r\n"Exactly." General Wheelwright bit his lip. "The man\'s cracked, mad.\r\nHow many more atrocities we\'ve found are actually his rather than the\r\nwork of lesser pirates we may never know. But to all the worlds he is\r\nstill the wild, free spirit of Adventure. Knowing nothing of Banya Tor."\r\n\r\n"As you ordered," pointed out Bannerman. Wheelwright agreed.\r\n\r\n"I have my reasons, Bannerman. Knowing nothing of all this, suppose\r\nthis Chanler woman could be taken to Banya Tor and shown exactly as he\r\nleft it in his flight the true horror of this pirate raid, the real\r\nnature of piracy, the nature of the tin Robin Hood?"\r\n\r\nBannerman gaped aghast. "You planned that?"\r\n\r\n"From the first weak call for help. I reached there about as soon as\r\nthe Patrol ships and ordered the whole story on ice."\r\n\r\n"You can prove to her it _was_ Lucas?"\r\n\r\n"Easily. They were there three or more days, loafing on solid ground,\r\nletting themselves go on the poor devils of the little colony. When\r\nthe Patrol came in answer to a stolen radio signal, they had time only\r\nto fight and run, leaving everything. Two of his trusted lieutenants,\r\nknown men, Revere and Pahboard, were found dead after the long-range\r\nfiring when we seized the domes. We can pin it on him with a deadly\r\ncertainty, Bannerman. We\'ll tar him with the blackest truth the System\r\nhas ever seen. Sir Galahad will ride for a little time, perhaps, but\r\nhe\'ll ride the calculating fiend we\'ve known him and not the gallant\r\nadventurer these cheap telecasts make him out to be. And we\'ll fling\r\nthe certain truth in Iris Chanler\'s painted face to do it!"\r\n\r\nBannerman was gravely sober. "Have you considered the consequences,\r\nsir? The girl has been carefully reared. She\'s wealthy, spoiled, but\r\nonly a girl. In her revulsion from the ghastly sight you plan to thrust\r\non her, might she not turn on us in reaction? Fling the blame on us for\r\nletting him commit the horrors she couldn\'t deny?"\r\n\r\nGeneral Wheelwright lifted an admiring forefinger. "Now that\'s the way\r\nI like to hear my officers talk, Bannerman. Consider all the angles,\r\nall the consequences. Follow no set plan blindly." He nodded in stern\r\ncommendation. "Knowing the woman, I anticipated your thought. The\r\nPatrol will not lead her blindly by the hand into Banya Tor, Bannerman.\r\nShe will be steered there purely by chance, by a man not known to be\r\nof our force. A man above suspicion, above reproach, perhaps I might\r\nsay above the law itself. Thorne."\r\n\r\nHe grinned wolfishly. "Call him in, Bannerman. You know his private\r\nline."\r\n\r\nBannerman shook his head. "With your permission, sir, I\'d rather not.\r\nEven those men out there know him only as the richest man alive. That\r\nis his value."\r\n\r\nWheelwright was not impressed. "You know best, then I know him as a\r\nsot who stumbled on a Vadirrian cache and came out of the desert with\r\nmore wealth than any man from here to the outer rings. The whole System\r\nknows him as no more, but for us it is sufficient that he secretly is\r\na captain in the Patrol and ready to do our bidding. The Chanler woman\r\nand a party of her chattering friends are not an hour behind me on the\r\nincoming Martian liner for Vulhan City. Take me to Thorne and we shall\r\nspread our nets for the magpie if we have to use half his new-found\r\nwealth to do it!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"My first assignment!" snorted in Geoffrey Thorne as he stood watching\r\nthe dancers twirling about the huge white ballroom in the Government\r\nHouse. "Escorting some snaggletoothed bandylegs to a desolate little\r\nasteroid just to quease her fat little stomach. It\'s enough to turn my\r\nown."\r\n\r\n"Patience, Thorne," smiled Bannerman, leaning quietly against a pillar\r\nat his side. "She\'s not bandy-legged."\r\n\r\nThorne stared, then laughed abruptly. "I needn\'t take your word on\r\nthat, Bannerman. The General comes."\r\n\r\nGeneral Wheelwright, forging through the eddying swarm of dancers,\r\nglittered with gold and braid, but it was not at the great man Thorne\r\nwas staring with such evident approval. At the officer\'s side stepped\r\na tall, beautifully shaped woman in clinging Ionian spider-weave, her\r\nskin glowing brilliantly in the intricate patterns of the skin-tight\r\ngown. Her ebon hair, shoulder-length, bore a single brilliant jewel at\r\nthe ear, but it was her eyes which held Thorne.\r\n\r\nGrey-blue as a summer storm, they scanned him as she walked forward, a\r\nfaint smile parting her lips at his open admiration. It was an approval\r\nhe made no effort to conceal, for Jeff Thorne, International, honored\r\nno convention against his will, nor had he need. His vast wealth\r\nenfolded him like a mantle, and few men on Earth or Mars or any other\r\nplanet took pleasure in measuring wits or steel with him. Slowly he\r\nmoved forward to meet the General, the dancers parting unobtrusively\r\nbefore him.\r\n\r\nMany eyes followed him, a tall, commanding figure in the heavily\r\nbrocaded white silk tunic, the broad golden stripe of the International\r\nstill upon the shimmering black of his close-fitting trousers. Gold\r\nsparkled on chest and shoulders and jewels in the hilt of the short,\r\nheavy sword slung at his left hip in ceremonial homage to the first\r\nMartian colonists. In honor of these, too, was the crisp white turban\r\nabout the gold-shot scarlet fez, symbolizing the blood they shed and\r\nthe purity of the ideals for which so many of them had died. The five\r\nmoonstones of the order of Larcanston glowed sullenly red on his broad\r\nchest.\r\n\r\n"I hoped you\'d be here, Thorne," the General greeted him, as heartily\r\nas though he had not made grimly certain the young man would attend.\r\n"May I present Miss Iris Chanler, Senator to the Council. Miss Chanler,\r\nCaptain Thorne." There was a chill disapproval in the General\'s\r\nstarched tones.\r\n\r\nAs they bowed and swept away in the ensuing dance, he joined Bannerman\r\nstiffly and stood watching the gay throng with an expression as dour as\r\nhe could muster.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThorne and the girl swung lightly in spiraling circles, fingers\r\ninterlaced, in the intricate, graceful steps of the latest Venusian\r\nGlide Roll, the dancers melting about them in light-hearted disregard\r\nof all official dignity.\r\n\r\n"A handsome couple, sir," nodded Bannerman.\r\n\r\n"Handsome enough," agreed Wheelwright, clasping his hands behind him\r\nand following the two with brooding, stormy eyes. "Thorne seems to know\r\nhis business."\r\n\r\nHe was promptly about it. As the girl melted into his arms, following\r\nhis every lead with exquisite grace, he grinned down at her upturned,\r\nchallenging face.\r\n\r\n"I almost stayed away," he admitted.\r\n\r\n"Because of me?"\r\n\r\n"Had you seen the picture of you I conjured up," he sighed, and she\r\nlaughed.\r\n\r\n"And mine of you," she added. "I thought of you as a wrinkled old\r\ndesert rat, hearing of your fortune."\r\n\r\n"We wrinkle easily here on Mars," he smiled. "You\'ll not stay long\r\nenough to know." And his eyes, sweeping her lace-sheathed body, assured\r\nher she need not fear wrinkles at the moment.\r\n\r\nShe smiled. "We sail for Triton on my yacht tomorrow. There\'s just time\r\nfor a visit to the Battan caves before I must return to N\'Yott for the\r\nopening of the fall sessions."\r\n\r\n"Those are dangerous parts," he warned. "Your party is very small."\r\n\r\n"We have good men," she laughed, eyeing him curiously. "You know that\r\narea?"\r\n\r\n"If I say I do, will you construe my answer aright?" was his cool\r\nrejoinder.\r\n\r\nShe rose to the bait. "Are you afraid?"\r\n\r\n"I have been called rash ere now."\r\n\r\nHer eyes glowed up into his. "Should I challenge you, Captain Thorne?\r\nBeg you to accompany us?"\r\n\r\nHis lips hardened and she felt the spring-steel body stiffen. "I am not\r\non display, Miss Chanler. Not even for you."\r\n\r\nHer smile faded and she drew away, moving from the hall out upon a\r\ndeep-niched balcony overlooking the restless Nergal Sea and the nodding\r\nMartian ships swaying on the moon-dappled roadstead. The towers of\r\nVulhan City lay about them, dark shadows in the ultramarine of the\r\nnight, for these Martian cities were not air-domed.\r\n\r\nHer eyes sought his, not lightly. "You think I ask selfishly, Captain\r\nThorne. You are right. But not as you think. If I ask you to accompany\r\nme for a short cruise, though it be on a flimsy pleasure-yacht, it is\r\nnot to exhibit you as some glittering prize of the light social whirl\r\nI inhabit, believe me. I know your story, of course. One of my duties\r\nconcerns aspects of public health and I\'ve a bill hearing designed to\r\nrelieve some of the handicaps space-sick fliers labor under. You are\r\nliving proof they can overcome the handicaps of disease or drink or\r\ndrugs. I speak frankly, you see. Figures and charts put the Council\r\nnodding. Your name will not."\r\n\r\n"I see," he slowly agreed. He looked away. She had shown him the\r\nstrength beneath her loveliness.\r\n\r\n"You alone cannot abrogate the old laws forbidding t\'ang addicts, cured\r\nor not, returning to Earth," he countered.\r\n\r\n"I can try," she insisted. "I like this position, Captain Thorne, to\r\nkeep it I have to earn my salary, and social legislation is the coin I\r\npay into the treasury." She laughed, shaking her long black hair about\r\nher gleaming bare shoulders. "I have been frank with you, sir. Will you\r\ncome?"\r\n\r\n"You make it a duty," he protested. His slow smile swept her lithe\r\nbeauty in the moonlight as the music rose again to draw them within the\r\ntall white palace.\r\n\r\n\r\n II\r\n\r\nBefore dawn Thorne stood quietly on the airport basin, hands buried in\r\nthe fur of his lined white jacket. As he gave the attentive stewards\r\nlast-minute instructions for the care of his own space-ship, _Warrior_,\r\nlying in her berth not far away, he watched for his own party. Faint\r\nlines troubled his forehead.\r\n\r\nA thin, gnawing premonition tugged at his brain. Something was wrong\r\nwith the picture afforded him by Wheelwright. While admitting Iris\r\nChanler\'s light spirits could mislead younger men than the crusty\r\nold General, Thorne had caught a deeper glimpse of the strength and\r\ndetermination beneath the lovely facade.\r\n\r\nShe came swiftly across the marbled plastic of the drome, her\r\nchattering party trailing her in a glittering swarm. Blood-scarlet in a\r\nshort, daring jacket laced with white and gold, she struck lightly at\r\nhis immobile arm.\r\n\r\n"You Mars-men! Do you sleep?"\r\n\r\n"The locks must be cleared for the Venus run within an hour," he\r\nshrugged. "The Lines wait for no one, not even estimable folk such as\r\nourselves."\r\n\r\nShe presented him swiftly to her party, a gay, light-hearted parcel of\r\ntouring socialites burdened far more with gold than either character\r\nor intellect. But he was welcomed pleasantly enough. While mere wealth\r\nmight have lifted haughty lips, the stupendous weight of his tremendous\r\nfortune crushed all barriers and reserve. Nor was he less in his habit\r\nthan the gayest, a blaze of green and gold beneath the ermine fur.\r\nHis boots were sheerest silver. Yet though the heavy gun belted at his\r\nthigh was crusted with gold, the ball and slides of the weapon were\r\ncold blue steel.\r\n\r\nIris Chanler, however, noted that he was wearing it, and wearing it\r\nlow. When she rallied him on the precaution, he only smiled grimly.\r\n\r\n"You may clothe a desert rat in cloth of gold, Iris," he countered.\r\n"But you cannot strip him of his Blandarc." He gestured toward her\r\nfriends, each with the short ceremonial sword demanded by Martian\r\ncustom. "Beautiful, but useless."\r\n\r\n"Were they made for use?" She laughed. "On whom?"\r\n\r\n"You might be wondering," he replied. "In your position. Holding the\r\npurse-strings of the Planet Patrol, you should fetch a thrifty ransom."\r\n\r\nHer laughter was a beautiful thing to hear.\r\n\r\nHer friends, crowding around as the party moved on the vessel they had\r\ndecided to take passage on, cut him off from any deeper reply. Her\r\nyacht being under repair, they had been forced to content themselves\r\nwith a regular interplanetary trading ship, and in the regulations\r\nand formalities of the take-off and acceleration he had no further\r\nopportunity for speech with his charge, save at the table. But the\r\nevening broadcast, a lurid melodrama of the skyways, gave him better\r\ncause to further his mission.\r\n\r\nShe herself brought up the subject, the starlight gleaming on the\r\nwhite syhthtic of her long, pearl-strewn gown, no whiter than the\r\nsleek bare leg revealed by the deep V-split in the side of the skirt.\r\nGold sparkled on her sandals and on Thorne\'s white tunic. The bloody\r\nmoonstones throbbed sullenly on his broad chest.\r\n\r\n"What fools we are," she said abruptly, pausing at the long dural-port\r\nof the gallery to stare out across the inky night at the gorgeous\r\nsparkle of mighty suns and distant stars winking in the velvety\r\nblackness. "Watching a childish sport on a paper screen when this is\r\npassing all unnoticed."\r\n\r\n"They never tire," he agreed, leaning beside her, the star-shine harsh\r\non his features. "Only we change, passing farther and farther each year\r\ninto the distance out there. Someday we shall see those suns."\r\n\r\n"Not you nor I." Her voice was low.\r\n\r\n"Only the stars are immortal." He looked down at her. "We content\r\nourselves with lesser things." She looked at him, then walked slowly\r\non, not speaking.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe long days passed. Hard, rough games provided exercise and\r\namusement, since on these shorter runs between the inner planets and\r\nasteroids no suspended animation was necessary. The women were frankly\r\npredatory, nor did the men care to antagonize Thorne.\r\n\r\nBut he was better armed than even General Wheelwright had expected.\r\nWomen had been no mystery to him since his sudden fortune, nor\r\nsubservient men with sullen eyes. What the wise and kindly Martian\r\nfishermen with whom he had spent his outcast days had not taught him,\r\nthe attentions of eager parasites had supplied. He was not lightly\r\ndeceived.\r\n\r\nSo he entered into the games with frank and open zest, overthrowing the\r\nmen and being thrown, kissing the women when necessary, and oftener,\r\nkeeping both victory and defeat light with laughter. He did not seek\r\nout Iris, nor challenge her, but when it came to kissing her in the\r\ncourse of one of the Venusian games these cosmopolites had brought\r\nwith them, he kissed her with considerable enjoyment and found himself\r\nbeing kissed promptly in return. It was a very pleasant voyage and he\r\nsincerely regretted that the time was at hand when he must divert it to\r\nthe approaching asteroid dot known only as Banya Tor. He had not seen\r\nwhat lay there awaiting them, but he had seen other human wreckage left\r\nalong the star-ways by the wolf packs raiding interspacial shipping. It\r\nwould not be a pleasant finale.\r\n\r\nIris and Thorne stood the morning of the fifth day out from Mars at a\r\nport in the small pilot cabin with two or three others of their party,\r\noblivious to the ill-concealed resentment of the officers on duty.\r\nFrom the corner of his eye he noted the first tremulous quiver of the\r\ndirecto-bar and his lips twitched. The game had begun.\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\nCasually he herded the laughing young people from the cabin on the\r\npretext of a fencing match already pre-arranged in anticipation of the\r\nexpected attack. Andrews, his opponent, was a good blade and the match\r\ndrew most of the party and crew off-duty, as he had intended. The two\r\nships coming up fast astern would be Bannerman\'s faked pirates and he\r\nintended their attack to lose no point in surprise to those for whom\r\nthe effect was being staged. To insure it, he slyly broke the wires\r\nleading to the standard directo-gauge as they crowded noisily out of\r\nthe cramped little room. Once Bannerman\'s ships were near enough to be\r\nspotted by the visual scanner, the slow passenger ship could never hope\r\nto evade the planned attack.\r\n\r\nLess than thirty minutes later the brazen clamor of a bugle split the\r\nair of the lower deck where Thorne and Andrews were deftly matching\r\nblades before a shouting crowd. The silence that instantly dropped\r\nwas broken by the glacial clang of alarm bells from end to end of the\r\nstubby little liner.\r\n\r\n"Battle stations!" shouted Thorne, snatching up his gun belt from\r\nIris. He seized her hand and bounded from the enclosed hall amidst the\r\nyelping pack pouring up the companions, snatching whatever weapons lay\r\nto hand. But the sight that met their eyes as they emerged upon the\r\nsaloon deck, panelled with Vinite, struck the brashest of them dumb on\r\nthe instant.\r\n\r\nFanned out to either side of the racing liner, two sleek grey racers of\r\nfast, if obsolescent design, whirled silently through the void. They\r\nbore a red sun on needle prows.\r\n\r\n"You wanted adventure," Thorne dryly chided Iris. Her deep breast\r\nheaved and her hands were clenched, but there was no fear in her\r\nbeautiful face.\r\n\r\n"I wanted life," she retorted, flashing him a glance of impatience.\r\n\r\n"This is Death," he replied grimly.\r\n\r\n"They liven our trip," she laughed, seizing his arm. "We\'ve been dead\r\nsince leaving Earth, you Mars-crawler. I could kiss them!"\r\n\r\nThorne laughed aloud, flinging an arm about her. "They may afford you\r\nthe opportunity, you scatter-brain," he returned. "We have no armament."\r\n\r\n"All ships carry toss-mines today," she snapped.\r\n\r\n"They are already abreast of us," he pointed out. "They\'re calling the\r\nPatrol by now, of course."\r\n\r\n"The Patrol!" she scoffed. "Shiny ships and sleepy men! Rather an\r\nhonest pirate than a butter-brain in black and gold!"\r\n\r\nHer open sneer cut short as from the nearer of the ships drawing closer\r\nand closer abeam sprang a pink glow and a stabbing beam of golden\r\nyellow to reach out and gently tap the liner.\r\n\r\nIt rocked under the impact of the force beam and the steady, drumming\r\nroar of the engines broke unevenly. The beam snapped off, but the\r\nengines sputtered and gasped, throwing the vessel off course. Again the\r\nyellow beam lanced out, crushing the tall stern fans and sending the\r\nliner staggering drunkenly. Futile in her agony, she launched the tiny\r\nthrow mines which were her only armament, but the sleek raiders easily\r\navoided their slow trajectories. The throbbing engines were gasping and\r\nbarking as the vessel rolled on her uneven course.\r\n\r\nMetallic voices broke the frightened silence in which the huddled\r\npassengers watched the unequal combat. Over the intercom pilots spoke\r\nsharply: "Stand by. Patrol ship within sight, coming up fast. Hold your\r\npositions."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEven as they cried out in relief, the attacking ships suddenly arced\r\nupward and swung away toward Venus, their fiery wakes a long trail of\r\nincandescent crystal in the inky void. Their parting shots missed the\r\nliner as she swerved on a new course to avoid just such vengeful rage,\r\nand a moment later they were lost among the sparkling stars. A sleek\r\ncruiser of the Planet Patrol swept by far astern, angling to cut off\r\nthe fleeing pirates, but already too far away to more than frighten\r\nthem from the prey they had already accounted theirs.\r\n\r\nA joyous babble of voices broke out as the passengers reacted\r\nfrom their scared immobility. The liner was limping badly but not\r\nstructurally damaged, and with that assurance the light butterflies\r\naboard relaxed into their earlier gayety.\r\n\r\nIris Chanler, however, did not seem to so easily recover from the brief\r\nflurry of adventure which she had so ardently applauded. She was all\r\nSenator, and spoke with sharp feeling on the subject of the Planet\r\nPatrol and its many and manifest shortcomings. So outspokenly angry\r\ndid she become that Thorne almost hesitated to continue the planned\r\nroutine, fearing to drive her through sudden shock into outright\r\ndenunciation of a service which apparently could not prevent such\r\nhideous tragedies as lay ahead on Banya Tor. Wise in women, he made no\r\neffort to counter her fury, nor point out that if the Planet Patrol\r\nwas undermanned and ill equipped, she had no one to blame but her own\r\nparsimonious father, "Scrooge" Chanler. He wondered uneasily if the\r\nscowling old miser had indeed returned in the more attractive guise of\r\nthe lovely daughter.\r\n\r\nWhen she learned the liner\'s rocket tubes had been so damaged she could\r\nnot proceed to Triton, but must put in at the nearby asteroid of Banya\r\nTor, she exploded furiously. Thorne blandly pointed out that this was\r\nmerely a minor inconvenience in the romantic interlude of the pirates\r\nand all but had his head taken off for his pains. Her revulsion seemed\r\ncomplete, but he determined to continue the plan in which the faked\r\nattack had only been intended as a means of diverting the ship to Banya\r\nTor without arousing her suspicion when she found what horror she had\r\nbeen led to witness. The iron was hot and he must strike quickly before\r\nher natural light-heartedness overcame her frightened wrath.\r\n\r\nIt was a race against time, for they were still two days out of Banya\r\nTor the following evening and she had apparently recovered. As a lark,\r\nshe and the other girls had taken over the galley and prepared the\r\nevening meal for all hands. It had been a surprising success and they\r\nwere relaxing with music in the inner saloon when Iris rejoined them.\r\n\r\nSwitching from domesticity with her usual flare, she was enticingly\r\ncased in a long black evening gown sweeping to the polished floor. A\r\ncluster of Mercurian fire stars blazed on her deep bosom and there were\r\nothers netted in the rippling waves of her dark hair. She brushed aside\r\nthe attentions of her party and came to Thorne, sitting in the front\r\nrow of the little group facing a blonde girl seated before them with a\r\nminiature oval instrument on which she evoked sharp, wild music foreign\r\nto any he had ever heard. Seeing his absorption, Iris settled in a\r\nlounge a little to his rear. He nodded, but did not speak.\r\n\r\nFrom his place, he could see the deserted outer saloon and the\r\nwheeling circles of the passing stars. He paid no attention, however,\r\nconcentrating on the lovely player before the silent group. But, as he\r\nglanced again through the parted leaves of the inner doorway, he froze\r\nin sudden horror.\r\n\r\nThe huge bulk of a space-ship, blotting out the stars, was already upon\r\nthem.\r\n\r\nIts ports glowed suddenly red, as though with internal explosions,\r\nand a wide cone of golden light sprang from her prow to envelope the\r\nunsuspecting liner. Too late Thorne remembered he had not replaced\r\nthe broken wires activating the directo-beam and the regular crew had\r\napparently not discovered the damage. And the black ship rushing upon\r\nthem was already not a thousand feet away.\r\n\r\nThorne\'s warning shout was never uttered. As the golden ray struck, the\r\nroom was livid with its sudden glare, then dark and sullen red.\r\n\r\nThe girl with the musical instrument, cutoff in midflight, bowed\r\nstiffly forward and fell heavily to the floor at his feet. Her\r\naccompanist swayed sideways and toppled like a wooden doll from his low\r\nseat. A cold chill bit into Thorne, numbing him from neck to heels, but\r\nleaving his brain only too clear. Sodden thuds behind him as members\r\nof the Chanler party fell to the floor only confirmed his dread. If it\r\nwere not the Avitt paralysis, it was a starker ray he had never known.\r\nA more dreadful fear which had been nagging at his subconscious for\r\ndays bit deep and, as he turned his head with painful slowness, came to\r\nhorror-stricken realization.\r\n\r\n"Be silent, Captain Thorne," came a cold hard voice. "No sound, or you\r\ndie."\r\n\r\nIt was the voice of Iris Chanler.\r\n\r\n\r\n III\r\n\r\nFor a long minute he studied her, over the barrel of the small Blandarc\r\nshe had whipped up from the cushions of her lounge seat. And at last he\r\nsaw what it was that had been troubling him so long. Her hair was dark\r\nand her color and figure warm and sultry, but the hard grey eyes were\r\nflinty pale and glinting. Killer\'s eyes....\r\n\r\n"So you _were_ a pirate, after all," he breathed, slowly.\r\n\r\nHer icy laugh crawled over his twitching skin. "Did you think I had my\r\nwealth from my father\'s dribbling salary? He left me a better legacy,\r\nCaptain Thorne."\r\n\r\n"The family business, apparently," he returned, his dry lip twisting.\r\nFor much was only too painfully clear. Her eyes narrowed, but she did\r\nnot move.\r\n\r\n"In a way. But I branch out."\r\n\r\n"What\'s the deal?" he asked roughly. He had recovered full use of\r\nhis faculties moments after the first paralyzing shock, but to her\r\nhe seemed as immobile as all who lay sprawled unconscious about the\r\nsaloon. If she had prepared for his partial resistance to the effects\r\nof the ray, due to the unusual condition of his t\'ang-soaked nerves,\r\nshe had fatally underestimated his powers of recovery. But he remained\r\nmotionless. At the moment, helpless under her Blandarc, he could see\r\nthe pirate vessel swinging along-side.\r\n\r\n"Your friends?" he added, glancing through the door at the growing bulk\r\nof the raider. She smiled.\r\n\r\n"My partners, rather."\r\n\r\n"How do you work it, Senator?"\r\n\r\n"As my father did, Captain Thorne. Years ago the outlaws banded\r\ntogether and made up an annual purse for the member of the\r\nappropriation committee who controlled the funds of the Planet Patrol.\r\nTo obstruct and cut down the bill was his only duty. My father took it\r\nover from Senator Denton and I managed to take over from him after his\r\ndeath."\r\n\r\nIt was so simple. And had been so effective, hamstringing the Planet\r\nPatrol in its own bases.\r\n\r\n"And now, open piracy. You destroy yourself, Senator. What does it get\r\nyou?" He watched her, brows knit. She shrugged.\r\n\r\n"You, Captain Thorne. Just you."\r\n\r\nThere was no need to explain. The wealthiest man since Croesus, an\r\nenormous ransom could well be torn from him, to say nothing of what\r\ncould also be extracted from the families of the young folk lying\r\nsenseless about them. And, in all probability, capping the situation\r\nwith a trim jest, a tidy sum for the safe return of the excellent\r\nSenator Iris Chanler herself. It was very clever, and no less\r\ndisturbing.\r\n\r\nThe liner quivered and groaned as the pirate ship hooked on, a black\r\nmerchantman of latest design. There came the hiss of air and the clang\r\nof bolts as the pirates began to come aboard through the connecting\r\nairlocks. He looked back to Iris, sitting tensely in her deep blue\r\nlounge seat.\r\n\r\n"Chain Lucas?"\r\n\r\n"There is no Chain Lucas," she smiled, coldly. As he digested that\r\nstartling remark, footsteps resounded along the passage and the saloon\r\ndoor was thrust rudely open.\r\n\r\nFramed in the opening, a tall, raffish fellow in trim blue grinned at\r\nthem. Iris leaped to her feet and ran to him, flinging her arms about\r\nhis neck as he engulfed her in a bearish hug. Thorne took no advantage\r\nof their preoccupation, for several other hard-looking men in flying\r\nclothes were crowding into the room, gun in hand. As they began picking\r\nup the unconscious passengers and shoving them roughly back into their\r\nseats, the pirate and the girl broke their enraptured embrace and moved\r\ncoolly over to Thorne.\r\n\r\n"You really got him," he exulted, sallow skin glowing with an unhealthy\r\ntinge. He was not unhandsome, but his full lips had an ugly downward\r\ncurl Thorne disliked.\r\n\r\n"This is Captain Thorne," she replied, a certain pride in her voice.\r\n\r\n"We\'re through, Iris," he crowed, clasping her with one long arm.\r\n"Through."\r\n\r\n"Through with life," agreed Thorne, coldly. He eyed the intruder\r\narrogantly, his body motionless, his eyes intent. "Your name, you?"\r\n\r\nThe pirate leader sprang backward, releasing Iris, his hand on his gun.\r\n"You turned your back on him, you fool, and he\'s awake!"\r\n\r\nIris laughed. "Captain Thorne has a very unusual constitution, my dear.\r\nI did not trust the crystals entirely, but though he can move his head,\r\nhe is as paralyzed as the rest of them."\r\n\r\nThorne turned a contemplative eye upon his erstwhile companion of\r\nthe misdirected adventure. "I remember, you were our cook this merry\r\nevening, Senator Chanler."\r\n\r\nHis formal insistence upon her betrayed trust did not trouble her. "The\r\nyellow ray is entirely harmless unless the prospective victim has\r\ncertain mineral salts in his system. I supplied them in your food."\r\n\r\n"Eating none yourself," he agreed. "A clever method. You had no qualms,\r\nstriking down your friends for this gay blade?"\r\n\r\n"They go to ransom, as you do," she replied, her lovely face hardening.\r\n"No friends of mine, Captain Thorne. If they accepted me, it was\r\nbecause I had money and position. I have no love for their silly kind."\r\n\r\nThe pirate chief swaggered forward, grinning. "Let us leave the moral\r\nquestions for others, Captain Thorne, and speak of more solid matters.\r\nSolid gold, let us say."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThorne balked instantly. Time was all he had left to play, aside from\r\nhis unsuspected ability to move and his ruthless speed with guns, time\r\nfor Bannerman or General Wheelwright to realize something had gone\r\namiss with the plan to expose Iris Chanler to the bloody ruins of Banya\r\nTor. He could have wept with rage at the futility with which they had\r\nlaid their ingenious trap.\r\n\r\n"If you refer to a ransom," he coldly replied, "I demand something\r\nbetter than the word of a flash-gun rock-trader like yourself that you\r\nhave any right to hold me at all."\r\n\r\nThey gaped at him. "We hold you, Captain Thorne. Is that insufficient?"\r\ndemanded Iris, teeth glinting between livid and unpleasant lips.\r\n\r\n"You know what I mean," he sternly accused her. "You yourself told me\r\nyou pirates had banded in this attempt to bribe and suborn members of\r\nthe Government. As you well know," he added, his scorn dying her cheeks\r\nangrily.\r\n\r\n"If this ... merchant receives the ransom, how may I be sure twenty\r\nmore of your association will not be instantly upon us for their share,\r\nif not for a separate ransom for all?"\r\n\r\nIt was not a worry which would trouble him greatly once the money had\r\nbeen paid, he knew, for neither he nor any of those aboard the liner\r\nstood any real chance of surviving at all. These people talked too\r\nfreely. They would see none repeated their confidences.\r\n\r\n"You misunderstand, Captain Thorne," Iris replied, her voice earnest\r\nwith conviction. "There is no syndicate, no organization among us.\r\nFifty thousand credits annually is the sum paid my father, and now\r\nmyself. When all who feel they gain by sabotaging the Planet Patrol\r\nhave left what they can on a deserted asteroid, the money is paid in at\r\nNew Yott. There is no more than that to the cooperation I mentioned.\r\nThere are no partners, no associates." She laid a hand on her\r\ncompanion\'s arm. "This is Captain Thomas Dallis," she added, with some\r\npride in which Thorne took no pleasure at all. He eyed the tall fellow\r\nunpleasantly.\r\n\r\n"The name is familiar. Export business?"\r\n\r\n"Of course. Most of us," he added. A thin grin split his pale face. "So\r\nconvenient to explain our unusual cargoes."\r\n\r\n"Shall we do business?" wondered Iris calmly, seating herself facing\r\nThorne on a lounge Dallis thrust forward. He slounched comfortably on\r\nthe arm, watching the granite-faced captive. The other pirates had left\r\nthe room.\r\n\r\n"If we can come to terms," Thorne assented, quietly. "You say it will\r\nbe to you the ransom must be paid?"\r\n\r\n"Exactly."\r\n\r\n"What of Chain Lucas?"\r\n\r\nIris laughed aloud, a mocking, airy sound that rang eerily through the\r\nsilent ship.\r\n\r\n"A myth, a shadow," she explained. "Some poor romantic fool we hired to\r\nplay at pirate. He serves as the herring to draw across the train of\r\nDallis here and others who really do the pirate\'s work."\r\n\r\n"You _hired_ him?" Thorne was frankly startled.\r\n\r\n"Of course. He was sailing to and fro in a cape and mask, cutting out\r\nsingle ships, raiding mining camps, playing Robin Hood. But he was\r\ncolorful and had made a reputation for chivalry we needed. We bought\r\nit. He continues these daring raids as before, robbing the rich and\r\nhelping the weak, covering the real attacks by unknown pirates who\r\nleave no trace."\r\n\r\n"Me," said Dallis, softly. "No trace at all, Thorne."\r\n\r\n"Others cash in on the exploits," she admitted. "But it is Tom who pays\r\nhim. A good investment, all considered."\r\n\r\n"To show up the Planet Patrol?" wondered Thorne. "An investment in\r\nobstruction." He looked at her with dawning comprehension. "I begin to\r\nsee," he added, slowly. "Those telecasts ... your work?"\r\n\r\nShe smiled. "Of course. One of my first. I bought into a cheap little\r\nmovie company and put out the first blood and rocket melodrama." A\r\nlaugh bubbled to her red lips. "It made money. We expanded and started\r\nthe whole cycle years ahead of its normal course. We still make money."\r\n\r\n"You seem to have it all worked out," he said. "A normally apathetic\r\npublic, soothed by a whole cycle of propaganda telecasts, a finger in\r\nthe heart of the Planet Patrol, an honest, open business that takes\r\nyou anywhere in the System, and a masked front man to take credit for\r\nthe whole witches brew." He laughed shortly. "I suppose I can guess\r\nwhat will happen. Once you have the ransom you go respectable for good,\r\nleaving the unfortunate Chain Lucas to cover your trail and take the\r\nblame."\r\n\r\nBoth Dallis and Iris laughed, a merry, discordant jangle.\r\n\r\n"Perhaps," said the man, rising to stand over Thorne. "But enough of\r\nLucas. What of you?"\r\n\r\n"How much?"\r\n\r\n"Who knows how much you have?" Dallis ground out. "Set up half for us\r\nand you go free. We know half will be ample for any need."\r\n\r\n"Then free these others," Thorne argued. "Their ransoms will be\r\nunnecessary."\r\n\r\n"Nonsense." Iris rose and stood over Thorne, her breast heaving.\r\n"Ransoms for all, or there may be suspicion. The Council may pay mine,"\r\nshe added contemptuously.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThorne did not laugh or move. Looking beyond the precious pair, at the\r\nheavy merchantman Dallis had turned into a raider, he sat amazed beyond\r\nspeech as it slowly, silently fell away from the liner\'s airlocks\r\nand drifted off to starboard, its black sides crumpling visibly. A\r\nlifeboat, spurting from its little lock, snapped and broke as a violet\r\nray from some unseen vessel above the liner cut it down. The pirate\r\ncrew were trapped aboard and died there in soundless fury. The few\r\naboard the liner were cut off from any retreat.\r\n\r\nNeither Dallis nor Iris had noticed the loss of their ship, as sound\r\ndid not penetrate the liner\'s hull. Thorne set himself to hold their\r\nattention until it should be too late.\r\n\r\n"Break this paralysis, then," he growled, apparently making a fierce\r\nand unsuccessful struggle to move his arms as they lay along the padded\r\nrest of his deep lounge. "I can do nothing here."\r\n\r\n"We can do nothing for you," shrugged Dallis. "Your body will remain\r\nparalyzed until it has absorbed the chemicals activated by the ray.\r\nPerhaps a day." He eyed Thorne in some admiration. "You withstand it\r\nvery well."\r\n\r\n"Thanks," said Thorne, shortly. It was not necessary to tell Dallis\r\nthat he had withstood the paralysis so effectively nothing could save\r\nthe exultant pirate should Thorne drop his hand the few inches to\r\nthe heavy butt of the Blandarc he still wore. But the death of the\r\nsly-faced raider was the least of Thorne\'s desires.\r\n\r\n"What is your own estimate of your wealth, Captain Thorne?" asked\r\nthe woman, hewing as always to the main issue. He shook his head,\r\nremembering just in time not to shrug.\r\n\r\n"Offhand, I couldn\'t say. It\'s not all liquid. The Vadirrian I retained\r\nto steady the market cannot be touched, of course, nor the foundations\r\nset up throughout the System for education and other purposes." He\r\npondered a moment. "Say thirty billion on call," he finally replied.\r\n\r\nThey goggled.\r\n\r\nIris recovered soon enough. "Then let us call upon it, Captain Thorne,"\r\nshe enjoined. "We\'ll scale down our demand in cash. Half that sum would\r\ndrown us in gold and criminals. We\'ll settle for six billion, share and\r\nshare alike."\r\n\r\n"Most reasonable, I\'m sure," he agreed. "Will you still require the\r\nfifty thousand blood-money this fellow pays you?"\r\n\r\nShe slapped him, hard. "Remember your place, you dope addict," she\r\nsnapped viciously.\r\n\r\n"I am," he replied evenly. A black ship, ribbed with scarlet, was\r\neasing gently, silently into position at the airlocks from which it had\r\nblasted the pirate vessel. He could feel the gentle thump in his toes\r\nas she bit in and fastened her grips. The others, lost in wealth, felt\r\nand saw nothing but the golden Midas sitting immobile before them.\r\n\r\n"You\'ve left me little else," he added, directing a cold glare at the\r\nman standing before him. "How do you mean to collect this ransom? The\r\nusual way?"\r\n\r\n"As usual." Dallis\' eyes were glittering. The red lips were parted,\r\nglistening. He was no longer handsome.\r\n\r\n"And, once collected, what of these people? Your party?"\r\n\r\nThey glanced carelessly about at Iris\' sprawled companions.\r\n\r\n"They have seen nothing, know nothing," she replied. "Our ransoms will\r\narrive together. We\'ll go back to Earth together."\r\n\r\n"Dallis to join you later, giving up his hazardous merchant trade,"\r\nagreed Thorne. "And what of me?"\r\n\r\nThey stared at him. Moment by moment the mirth and exultation died from\r\ntheir faces. As he saw the darkness descend, he knew only too well what\r\nwould become of himself, what had been in their evil minds from the\r\nfirst. He could not be permitted to survive.\r\n\r\n"I see." He was grimly calm. "I knew it all along, of course, but I\r\nwanted to see your faces. They\'re very expressive."\r\n\r\n"What could you expect, you fool?" burst out Iris, taking refuge in\r\nanger. "Why did you resist the paralysis? Can we leave you at large to\r\nreach out and destroy us?"\r\n\r\n"Then you may go whistle for your ransom," he snapped. "Shall I buy my\r\nown death warrant?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHer face went hard and the full lips thinned cruelly. The blue eyes\r\nturned pale as ice.\r\n\r\n"There are men on Dallis\' ship who can change your mind, Captain\r\nThorne."\r\n\r\n"With hot irons, I suppose," he sneered. "You\'re a primitive sort of\r\nbrute, Iris."\r\n\r\n"We won\'t touch you, Thorne," interposed Dallis, coldly. "But we\'ll put\r\nthese kids under the knife one by one until you sign." He nodded to the\r\nunconscious group about them. "Shall they deal with them as they did to\r\nthe passengers of the \'Orion\' and the \'Pantagruel\' and a dozen others?\r\nIt\'d be slow and ugly, Thorne."\r\n\r\nHe looked from one to the other of them. Greed and weakness marred the\r\nsymmetry of their handsome faces, drawing down their lips in cruel,\r\nheartless determination that would brook no obstacle. They would not\r\nfalter.\r\n\r\nHe was spared an answer by a thunderous bang in the liner\'s engine\r\nroom. A second and a third echoed instantly, then a rolling crescendo\r\nof fast pistol-shots.\r\n\r\nIris looked back with a cry, her skin blanching as she flung up her\r\ngun, but Dallis only laughed uproariously. "They didn\'t all sample your\r\nwares, Iris," he jeered her. "The boys must have found some conscious\r\nback there."\r\n\r\nThere were no further sounds and she lowered her gun, smiling weakly.\r\nNeither saw Thorne\'s hand slip half-way down the lounge arm to pause\r\ndirectly above the butt of his Blandarc. But he had one more card to\r\nplay.\r\n\r\n"What of your own crews?" he demanded. "What of your dupe, Chain Lucas?"\r\n\r\nThe thin mask of restraint broke and the mean, naked soul of Thomas\r\nDallis glared venomously at him. Even Iris stared at her boon companion\r\nin alarm.\r\n\r\n"We take care of our own crews our own way, you fool! If you go, they\r\ngo with you. There\'ll be no blackmailing us when we roll ashore, my\r\nfriend, if that\'s what you mean. There\'ll be no one left. I saw to\r\nthat." His sharp teeth gleamed.\r\n\r\nThorne was not perturbed. The panel door behind the intent\r\nconspirators, where Dallis had first appeared, was slowly inching open.\r\n\r\n"And a like end for your other dupe, Chain Lucas," he contemptuously\r\nreplied. Dallis grinned again, wolfishly.\r\n\r\n"Of course. We\'ll wreck this ship and plaster her with evidence tying\r\nhim with every piracy for the last ten years. The Patrol can hunt him\r\ndown."\r\n\r\n"He won\'t like that," offered Thorne, gently. Dallis swore in\r\nexasperation.\r\n\r\n"Do I care?" he shouted. "Why worry over Chain Lucas, you gilded idiot?"\r\n\r\nA beatific smile overspread Thorne\'s face. "Principally," he admitted,\r\n"because he is standing directly behind you, Dallis."\r\n\r\nIris\' choked scream ripped the silence and her gun fell thumping to\r\nthe floor. Dallis, half-turning, stared transfixed at the tall figure\r\nstanding quietly in the doorway, hands on the side.\r\n\r\n\r\n IV\r\n\r\nThe golden chains which had given him his name glimmered richly in the\r\nsoft light, sparkling across his broad chest and about the rich black\r\ntunic. A black-masked steel helmet concealed the face no one living had\r\never seen.\r\n\r\nFor a space wherein a man might count to six, the guilty pair stared\r\nmotionless at the silent Lucas. Then, knowing himself doomed, Dallis\r\nbroke the trance and drew. To Thorne, sitting immobile in his\r\nself-imposed paralytic trance, it was like the slow-motion haste of\r\na lumbering bear. Dallis, whatever else he might be, was no gunman,\r\nlittle though it would have availed him even had he been. Thorne did\r\nnot see Lucas draw, but the heavy weapon was in the outlaw\'s hand even\r\nas Dallis swung, slamming its deep, heavy report from the recoiling\r\nslides. Dallis\' head and right shoulder vanished in a searing blast,\r\nshivered to atoms, the gun he had never drawn spinning across the\r\nsaloon. The hand and forearms went pinwheeling grotesquely with it to\r\nthud against the wall and fall to the floor in a hideous splash. He\r\nturned dizzily on his heel, a mockery of a man, and fell with a crash\r\nbetween two chairs where the paralyzed bodies of his own victims still\r\nsat motionless, blind and deaf to his fall.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: _Dallis\' head and right shoulder vanished in the searing\r\nblast._]\r\n\r\nIris screamed once, a shriek of horror and fury, then flung herself on\r\nLucas. He wasted no effort, deflecting her blow with his left hand,\r\nhis right chopping down with the whistling Blandarc to crush the long\r\nbarrel against her temple, shattering her fragile skull. A mask of\r\nglistening scarlet shot instant threads across her livid face. She fell\r\nheavily, collapsing across the twitching corpse of her late partner,\r\nDallis. The light gleamed on her outflung arms and upon the blood\r\nslowly running down their ivory slopes to drip more slowly still from\r\nher lax and impotent fingers.\r\n\r\nScorn tinged Lucas\' whole bearing as he glanced across at the shocked\r\nand silent figure still motionless in his lounge-prison.\r\n\r\n"You blind fool," he flung contemptuously at Thorne.\r\n\r\nThe latter did not answer for a long, slow minute. Then he nodded.\r\n\r\n"So it seems, Lucas," he replied, quietly.\r\n\r\nThe big pirate shrugged, flinging back his long cape to holster his\r\ngun, and a vivid flower of scarlet bloomed in the doorway as the lining\r\ncaught the light.\r\n\r\n"I suppose they told you your paralysis is incurable," he said, walking\r\nforward with no further glance at his victims. "You\'ll be out of it\r\nby noon tomorrow. But now, just to dispel any fond hope you might be\r\nentertaining, Captain Thorne, you may consider your personal fortunes\r\nas unchanged. You are still for sale ... to yourself."\r\n\r\n"At what price?"\r\n\r\n"Twenty-five billion."\r\n\r\n"You raise the price?"\r\n\r\n"Do you think I am one of these?" Lucas sneered, nodding at the dead\r\nbeside him. "Petty thieves using my name for a shield." He sat down,\r\ncrossing his black-sheathed legs. "Now, Captain Thorne, let us discuss\r\nthe terms. I am a busy man."\r\n\r\n"And I am not," growled Thorne, angrily, staring full into the\r\nevil-looking mask Chain Lucas wore as the visor of his helmet. "I\'ve\r\nhad a hard day, Lucas, and I\'m tired ... tired of merchants and\r\nSenators turned pirate ... tired of masks.... Suppose you remove\r\nyours ... General."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFor a long, taut moment the outlaw did not move. Then he slowly\r\nunbuckled his linked chin strap, removing his steel helmet and the\r\nblack hood within it. Thorne smiled wickedly.\r\n\r\n"Good evening, General."\r\n\r\nChain Lucas was General Wheelwright, Inspector-General of the Planet\r\nPatrol.\r\n\r\n"How did you know?" The outlaw\'s voice was flat, expressionless.\r\n\r\n"Your voice. Your evident contempt."\r\n\r\n"Well?"\r\n\r\n"Why should I have suspected Iris Chanler? Did I know she was in\r\nyour pay, sponsored as she was? Your tone implied me a fool to have\r\nsuccumbed to her charms, to have let myself be lulled into this fool\'s\r\ntrap. But it was I who was to have led her into the trap of Banya Tor,\r\nand if I failed in that, who knew I had attempted it save you and\r\nBannerman? And your walk and voice are not Bannerman\'s."\r\n\r\n"You guessed."\r\n\r\n"I knew. Why I had been taken into the Patrol with my drunken\r\nantecedents all against me, why sent on this fool\'s errand? And who\r\nalone had authority to arrange for all that has befallen?"\r\n\r\nWheelwright nodded, his face impassive. "I see. It was I. All the way."\r\nHe kicked idly at the dead foot of Dallis. "These poor fools never\r\nknew. They hired me as Chain Lucas to play the hero and be their shield\r\nin trouble, and I used them in their turn. I gave them information and\r\nthe hidden routes of ships. I postured when I attacked, scattering my\r\nloot openhandedly, for the loot they stole was far surpassing mine and\r\nI knew the cave on Luna in which they keep it. I\'ll leave it there, I\r\nsuppose."\r\n\r\nHe leaned back, a faint smile twisting the hard mouth. "It looked\r\nbig once, Thorne. Big enough to kill for. Now ..." he shrugged\r\nexpressively. The golden chains winked brightly across his chest.\r\n\r\n"Now it\'s a drop in a very big bucket," Thorne concluded. "What\r\nhappens if I fill it for you?"\r\n\r\n"What could happen, Thorne? You die. You all die. The ship vanishes, as\r\nothers have vanished. Chain Lucas will be seen no more."\r\n\r\n"You can\'t destroy or hide a liner, General. Your own Patrol will track\r\nyou down."\r\n\r\nWheelwright shrugged again. "A high-orbit course, over the trade lanes,\r\nand I send the ship and you into the Sun. Will you seek fingerprints\r\nthere?"\r\n\r\nThorne fell silent, watching Wheelwright from narrowed eyes. Finally he\r\nspoke.\r\n\r\n"It\'s been your plan from the start, hasn\'t it?" It was not a question.\r\n\r\n"From the moment Bannerman told me he had taken you into the Patrol,\r\nfor all your record. I could have taken you at any time. But I wanted\r\nmore than the ransom you can pay. I wanted peace in which to enjoy it."\r\n\r\nSlowly Thorne\'s eyes widened. "You ... you yourself ordered the\r\nmassacre at Banya Tor."\r\n\r\n"Of course. You should know by now, Captain Thorne, that my men do not\r\nget out of hand. They tortured and killed at my word, that I might have\r\na spectacle savage enough to justify calling in both you and the late\r\nSenator Chanler. She came at the suggestion of the pirate Chain Lucas,\r\nplanning the treachery you heard. She never knew how futile it was."\r\n\r\n"A masterpiece," agreed Thorne, dryly. His hand had slipped loosely\r\nfrom the arm of the lounge and fallen to his side. His head nodded\r\nwearily.\r\n\r\n"These two betrayed their friends, their country, and would have\r\nbetrayed each other as they did us once the money was paid," he went\r\non, watching the quiet bodies on the deck. A thin trickle of darkening\r\nblood runneled out across the magnificent carpet to stain Wheelwright\'s\r\npolished boot. "You know what you have betrayed, General Wheelwright.\r\nYou live a lie even in your greater lie. You fail your own pose of\r\nmock-hero, grasping more than you can hold."\r\n\r\n"I hold you, Thorne."\r\n\r\n"I pay you nothing, you pirate!" flashed back Thorne, defiant even in\r\nhis apparent helplessness.\r\n\r\n"You haven\'t seen Banya Tor," snarled Wheelwright. "My men can change\r\nthat tune."\r\n\r\n"You lie," returned Thorne, coldly. "You killed your own lieutenants,\r\nRevere and Pahboard, merely to provide convincing proof you had caused\r\nthe Banya Tor massacre. You destroyed Dallis\' ship and crew and the men\r\nhe brought aboard this ship. Would a treacherous snake like you leave\r\nany alive behind him to share the loot? Would you spare your own crew\r\nof cutthroats?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGeneral Wheelwright grinned malevolently. "You are very clever, Captain\r\nThorne. And very daring. I could have used you." He shook his head.\r\n"Of course, none remain. Dallis\' men are dead. My own died at mess,\r\npoisoned. Only I am left ... and I am Chain Lucas." There was pride\r\nin his voice, a hard, brittle savagery rasping through the charged\r\natmosphere of the littered saloon.\r\n\r\n"You are a fool, General Wheelwright," replied Thorne, evenly. "I came\r\nto this assignment better prepared than you think."\r\n\r\n"What\'s that?" Wheelwright leaned forward, his amusement vanishing.\r\n\r\n"There are three button dictographs in this room," jeered Thorne.\r\n"There are fifty scattered throughout the ship to record Iris Chanler\'s\r\nreaction to Banya Tor, should she have desired backing out once we\r\nreturned to base. My idea, Wheelwright."\r\n\r\n"You hound!" cried Wheelwright, springing to his feet and half-drawing\r\nhis Blandarc. "You threaten me?"\r\n\r\n"Your own words convict you, not I."\r\n\r\nSuddenly the pirate renegade thrust back his gun and flung back his\r\ngrizzled head in a splutter of laughter. "What odds, Thorne? This ship\r\ngoes into the sun and they with it."\r\n\r\n"But we\'re not going into the sun," said Thorne.\r\n\r\n"And who\'s to stop me?" demanded Wheelwright, laughing still.\r\n\r\n"Myself," said Thorne, abruptly coming to his feet with a tigerish\r\nsurge, the barrel of his gun leaping from the holster on which his hand\r\nhad been resting, the lethal volt-ball at its muzzle square between\r\nWheelwright\'s startled eyes.\r\n\r\nJaw agape, the General could only stare and stare, his hands lax at his\r\nside, and Thorne went softly on.\r\n\r\n"You spun your webs too fine, Lucas. I told you, as I told Bannerman, I\r\nwas cured of the t\'ang habit. He believed. You refused to believe. Now\r\nyou pay for it."\r\n\r\n"You ... you weren\'t paralyzed at all?" stammered Wheelwright, sheer\r\nunbelief still apparent in his eyes.\r\n\r\n"My t\'ang-soaked body did not absorb the catalystic salts Iris fed us,"\r\nsmiled Thorne, bleakly. "If I can no longer drink, neither can I be\r\npoisoned. Your cat\'s paw and his ray meant nothing to me." His voice\r\ntightened. "Enough, renegade! Your gunbelt! Unbuckle it. Drop it."\r\n\r\nSlowly the General unfastened the broad gold buckle of his rich belt,\r\nhis head bowed. Then, as he released it, he suddenly thrust up his\r\nleft arm to free his black cloak, jerked the belt forward smartly, and\r\nclipped Thorne across the wrist with the buckle. The belt, weighted\r\ndown by the heavy gun, was torn from his grasp, but it had at least\r\nknocked the Blandarc from Thorne\'s hand as well.\r\n\r\nSnatching a knife from the lining of his cape, Wheelwright plunged\r\nforward with a snarl of triumph. He was all Chain Lucas now, all\r\nblack-and-scarlet pirate.\r\n\r\nBut as he leaped, his own treachery rose up to avenge his victims upon\r\nhimself. Thorne flashed out his heavy Martian sword ... and Lucas\r\nstepped on Iris Chanler\'s dead and blood-soaked arm.\r\n\r\nHe went staggering sideways, slipping in the half-dried blood she and\r\nDallis had spilled so thickly across the carpeted deck, and as he\r\nstruck in vain at Thorne the Captain leaned swiftly forward across\r\nIris\' body and drove his straight blade half-way to the hilt between\r\nthe golden links of the pirate\'s golden chain.\r\n\r\nHe did not die easily, Chain Lucas. Sprawled across the corpse of\r\nDallis, he writhed and screamed, a hideous, bubbling scream of anger\r\nand fear. He clawed for the gun Thorne had dropped and Thorne pierced\r\nhis arm to the bone. And when he managed to scrabble to his knees,\r\nstill wielding the knife, the Captain stepped forward relentlessly.\r\n\r\n"This for Banya Tor," he whispered. And Chain Lucas, once the\r\nInspector-General of the Planet Patrol, died as he had lived, a\r\nrenegade and a traitor.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSlowly Thorne sheathed his sword. He did not wipe it. He put his gun in\r\nthe holster at his belt.\r\n\r\nLooking down at the dead, he spun the jeweled dial set in his own\r\nmassive golden belt-buckle. He lifted a tiny ball from the hidden\r\ncompartment revealed by the opening and spoke wearily into the screen\r\nset in the polished sphere.\r\n\r\n"You heard, Captain Bannerman?"\r\n\r\n"Everything, Thorne. Everything." Bannerman\'s voice quavered and broke.\r\n"Unbelievable."\r\n\r\n"I never thought I\'d have to kill him." Thorne shook his head, "I never\r\nthought to see Chain Lucas dead at my feet."\r\n\r\n"Where better?" Bannerman was more practical. "The Senator? Any hope,\r\nThorne?"\r\n\r\nHe looked down at Iris. She was no longer beautiful, but her blood had\r\ndoubtless saved his life. "She loved the romance of piracy, Bannerman.\r\nShe\'s paid in full."\r\n\r\n"I put her on the air, Thorne," said Bannerman, grimly. "Cut all\r\ntelecasts from Earth to Pluto and every word went out crystal clear.\r\nThe main bands are broken and the pirate cult forever discredited,\r\nThorne. Lucas and his lieutenants wiped out." His voice thickened. "We\r\ncan\'t give you a reward, Thorne. Not to you."\r\n\r\n"I did a job. Not for reward."\r\n\r\n"The Senate heard you, Thorne. Listened to Chanler and Lucas and the\r\nwhole thing. The President called. The law\'s been repealed. You can go\r\nhome."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t understand, Bannerman."\r\n\r\n"You\'re free of the ban, son. They say if you can cure yourself of the\r\nt\'ang habit, as you just proved to every living one of them listening\r\ntonight, then they can cure the others who suffer with it. You lifted\r\nthe law with your own hands, Thorne. You freed yourself. They repealed\r\nit not ten minutes since."\r\n\r\nBannerman\'s voice sharpened, rose abruptly. "We\'re sending ships. Hold\r\nthe fort, Captain Thorne. You\'re an Earthman again!"\r\n\r\nSlowly Thorne closed the sending ball. He stood tall and straight among\r\nthe frozen and the dead. He was going home.\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPACE-TRAP AT BANYA TOR ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Moon of Treason'

'McDowell, Robert Emmett'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Moon of Treason\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Moon of Treason\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Robert Emmett McDowell\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Earl Mayan\r\n\r\nRelease date: March 4, 2021 [eBook #64695]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOON OF TREASON ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Moon Of Treason\r\n\r\n by EMMETT McDOWELL\r\n\r\n Branded an outlaw by the ISP, hated and\r\n feared as a mutant, Clyde Vickers stalked\r\n his quarry in impotent rage. His kind, it\r\n seemed, was always wanted for the dirty work....\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Planet Stories Summer 1950.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nClyde Vickers shuffled awkwardly down the gangplank. After two years on\r\nJupiter he felt buoyant as a toy balloon in the mild gravity of Earth\'s\r\nsatellite. Every step he expected to go sailing over the heads of the\r\nother passengers--up, up into the vast booming reaches of Luna City\'s\r\nairlock.\r\n\r\nThe line jammed, came to a fuming stop. Vickers found himself wedged\r\nbetween a woman who had boarded the liner at Mars and a bearded\r\nPlutonian explorer. He craned his neck, peering over their heads to see\r\nwhat had caused the bottleneck.\r\n\r\nAn officer of the ISP, in a blue uniform, was standing at the foot of\r\nthe gangplank, examining passports. Vickers cursed under his breath.\r\n\r\n"Damn them," he thought, "damn them."\r\n\r\nBehind him, the black spaceliner made sudden pistol-like reports as\r\nit expanded in the warm air. It had brought some of the cold of outer\r\nspace along with it, and hoar frost stood out on its sides a foot\r\nthick. It was rapidly exhausting the heat in the airlock. Vickers\r\nshivered as the cold struck through his ill-fitting gray suit.\r\n\r\n"Papers," the ISP man said and held out his hand.\r\n\r\nWith a start Vickers realized that he had reached the end of the\r\ngangplank. The ISP man took one look at Vickers\' little green book and\r\nhis face hardened.\r\n\r\n"Parolee!" he said.\r\n\r\nThere were whispers from the crowd. A little boy said: "What\'s he done,\r\nmomma? What\'s he done?"\r\n\r\n"Hush!" she bade him.\r\n\r\nVickers gave no sign that he\'d heard.\r\n\r\n"Two-time loser, eh?" the ISP man went on and ran his eyes over\r\nVickers. He saw a tall man with huge shoulders, the muscle bulging the\r\ncheap gray cloth--muscle that could be acquired only in the killing\r\ngravity of Jupiter\'s penal mines. Then he saw Vickers\' eyes, and he\r\nlooked startled.\r\n\r\nVickers had his nictitating lids lowered; his eyes seemed almost\r\nnormal. Almost but not quite!\r\n\r\n"What the devil!" the ISP man wet his lips. "Vickers! By God, I should\r\nhave recognized the name. Vickers, eh?" He seemed about to say more,\r\nthen changed his mind. "Move along. You\'re holding up the line."\r\n\r\n"My passport."\r\n\r\n"Pick it up at the parole board. If you don\'t report there in\r\ntwenty-four hours, you\'ll be picked up yourself and shipped back to\r\nJupiter. You\'re a two-time loser, Vickers; you can\'t afford to get into\r\ntrouble again."\r\n\r\nVickers regarded him with open dislike, then turned on his heel,\r\nstarted across the spaceport at a cautious shuffle.\r\n\r\nFreedom!\r\n\r\nHe couldn\'t leave the moon. He had to accept whatever work the parole\r\nboard secured for him--more than likely some stinking job deep in the\r\nmoon pits. He must report for a check-up and a psycho-therapeutic\r\ntreatment every four weeks. He couldn\'t marry or hold property or\r\nchange jobs.\r\n\r\nAnd if he fell from grace again, it meant sterilization and a life\r\nsentence on Jupiter.\r\n\r\nFreedom. What the hell had he to look forward to?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAll his life Vickers had been lonely. His parents, horrified at having\r\nproduced a monstrosity, had placed him in a home and washed their hands\r\nof him.\r\n\r\nNot that Vickers\' abnormality was disfiguring or particularly\r\nnoticeable even--you had to look closely at his eyes to recognize the\r\nnictitating lids--but he was a freak, a mutant, and the sight of him\r\nhad been a constant reminder of their shame.\r\n\r\nAt the home, Vickers\' playmates had quickly discovered his queerness\r\nand had taunted him about it with the cruelty of children. His attempts\r\nat friendship were met with rebuffs. He might have been able to adjust\r\nbut he was never allowed to forget that he was different.\r\n\r\nLater when the peculiar power of his eyes became known, he was feared\r\na little, resented and cordially hated. Vickers was forced in on\r\nhimself. He built a shell, a hard flippant armor against the senseless\r\nantagonism he met everywhere.\r\n\r\nIn spite of hysterical predictions and a flood of stories in the\r\nscience-fiction magazines, the Atomic Age had not ushered in a wave of\r\nmutants--at least not radical mutants. Vickers was practically unique.\r\n\r\nAnd alone.\r\n\r\nNevertheless Vickers experienced an odd tingling excitement as he\r\nemerged from the lock into Luna City. Beneath his thick layers of\r\nprotective indifference, he was eager as a boy, friendly, sensitive. A\r\nstarved gregariousness looked out of his eyes in unguarded moments.\r\n\r\nHe stood with his back to the wall of an export firm, breathing deeply\r\nof the warm, artificially earth-scented air. Through the soles of his\r\nfeet he could feel the pavement vibrating faintly, as deep inside the\r\nbowels of the moon, the mechanical mining worms gnawed out the ore,\r\nchewed it, digested it, spat it out as metal ingots.\r\n\r\nThe voice of the city rolled over him, deafened him. His eyes were\r\nbewildered at the crowds jamming the pavement. His pulse leaped. He was\r\nlike a blind man who has just had his sight restored.\r\n\r\nSomeone said: "Hello, Vickers," and struck him on the shoulder. "Glad\r\nto see you out."\r\n\r\nVickers brought his eyes down. He stared at the man who had addressed\r\nhim. The look of exaltation slowly faded from his face to be replaced\r\nby a puzzled frown.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know you."\r\n\r\n"Oh, come now, surely you recognize me." The man was as big as Vickers,\r\nexactly, and the same build. He was clad in a shabby gray suit. There\r\nwas something tantalizingly familiar about him. Vickers wrinkled his\r\nforehead in concentration.\r\n\r\n"I must remember that," said the man, and wrinkled his forehead exactly\r\nlike Vickers.\r\n\r\nThey were standing in a doorway out of the stream of pedestrians.\r\nSuddenly Vickers\' mouth fell open. He stared at the man in startled\r\ndisbelief.\r\n\r\nIt was himself!\r\n\r\nThe resemblance was too perfect. The same close-cropped black hair\r\nand Jupiter-enlarged muscles. The same short, straight nose, wide,\r\nthin-lipped mouth, square jaw. Even the same transparent inner lids\r\nlowered over pale gray eyes. It was like looking into a mirror.\r\n\r\nVickers felt his mouth go dry.\r\n\r\n"Who are you?" he demanded harshly.\r\n\r\n"You recognize me? Good."\r\n\r\nThe man grinned, began to edge away.\r\n\r\nVickers lunged for him. But the fellow eluded his grasp, slipped into\r\nthe stream of traffic like an eel. He was rapidly being swallowed up by\r\nthe crowd. Vickers ploughed after him.\r\n\r\nThere was something afoot--something dangerous to himself, he felt.\r\nHe was determined not to lose sight of his double and opened his\r\nnictitating lids....\r\n\r\nInstantly, the scene about the busy spaceport changed. It took on a\r\nvaporous unreality like an x-ray photograph. The people, the buildings,\r\neven the pavement underfoot became tenuous as smoke. He could see right\r\nthrough them.\r\n\r\nIt always frightened Vickers a little to use his full vision, taking\r\nhim a second to adjust. Then he located his double about ten steps\r\nahead.\r\n\r\nHe could make out the misty outlines of elevators in the man\'s flashing\r\nheels. So that was how he\'d given himself the necessary height. Pads\r\nfilled out his frame reproducing Vickers\' Jupiter-trained muscles. The\r\nnictitating lids had been cleverly simulated by contact lenses.\r\n\r\nBut why?\r\n\r\nWhy should anyone go to all that trouble to disguise himself exactly\r\nlike Vickers--even to the ill-fitting gray suit? There was something\r\nsinister about the whole affair.\r\n\r\nJust then Vickers tripped, lost his precarious balance and fell\r\nsprawling.\r\n\r\nHe scrambled to his feet in time to see the stranger leap into an air\r\ntaxi.\r\n\r\n"Look at his eyes!" a woman cried out at his elbow. "Look at his eyes!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers hastily lowered his inner lids, cursing under his breath. There\r\nwasn\'t another cab in sight. He\'d better clear out before he was the\r\nfocal point of a riot. Normal humans weren\'t fond of mutants.\r\n\r\nAlready a crowd was collecting. Vickers heard angry mutterings. He\r\nforced his way through the press bull-like. Suddenly he found his path\r\nblocked by two determined-looking men.\r\n\r\n"Hold on," said the man on the outside and put his hand on Vickers\'\r\nchest. He was blond with cold, pale blue eyes. "What\'s your hurry?"\r\n\r\nVickers started to thrust them aside when he felt the second man jam a\r\ngun into his ribs.\r\n\r\n"Vickers, aren\'t you?" asked the blond man.\r\n\r\n"What of it?"\r\n\r\n"Come along." He jerked his chin toward an air taxi. "Don\'t make a\r\nfuss."\r\n\r\n"Where?"\r\n\r\n"Headquarters." The man produced an ISP card. "We tried to catch you at\r\nthe ship, but you\'d left."\r\n\r\nVickers hesitated. Despite the pistol in his ribs, he thought he could\r\ntake the two plainclothesmen. It would be a futile move, though. The\r\nISP would throw out the net for him, and this time he would be sent\r\nback to Jupiter for life.\r\n\r\nHe sighed, "All right," and climbed into the cab.\r\n\r\nHe wondered if there could be any connection between the incident\r\noutside the spaceport and this visit to ISP headquarters, but he knew\r\nit would be useless to ask. He stared silently out the cab window at\r\nthe polyglot crowd, drawn from three worlds.\r\n\r\nThe moon was international. It was governed by a board of seven\r\ndelegates, one each from the seven great nations of Earth. They were\r\nknown simply as "The Seven" with headquarters in the moon-tower near\r\nthe center of Luna City. The ISP offices were located there too as well\r\nas all government bureaus.\r\n\r\nAll at once Vickers realized that the cab was headed in the wrong\r\ndirection.\r\n\r\n"Where are we going?" he demanded, jarred out of his stoical calm.\r\n\r\nThe ISP agents had taken seats one on each side of him. He could feel\r\ntheir guns prodding his ribs, sleek automatics with built-in silencers.\r\nWicked things that could tear half his guts out.\r\n\r\n"Shut up," the blond man said.\r\n\r\nVickers lapsed into silence again. He was more bewildered and angry\r\nthan alarmed. Try as he would, he couldn\'t guess who\'d want him badly\r\nenough to snatch him.\r\n\r\nThere had been no rivals in Vickers\' line of work. Samuels and Rebkia,\r\nhis partners, had both been killed in the ISP trap two years ago. There\r\nwas no one left who had any interest in him. Unless--\r\n\r\nHe said suddenly: "You\'re not ISP agents."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right."\r\n\r\n"What\'s the idea then?"\r\n\r\n"You ask too many questions," said the blond man.\r\n\r\n"An\' that\'s a fact," the other agreed.\r\n\r\nVickers\' mouth set. He still thought he could take the two gunmen, but\r\nhis curiosity had the best of him. He sank back in the cushions and\r\nwaited.\r\n\r\nThe cab had gone about three kilometers when it pulled up at the curb.\r\n\r\n"All right, Vickers," the blond man said; "here\'s where you get your\r\nanswers."\r\n\r\nHe crawled out, straightened. The cab had stopped before a door of\r\nopaque blue plastic. Above it in letters of electric blue light was the\r\ninscription:\r\n\r\n INTERNATIONAL SPY RING\r\n INCORPORATED\r\n Secrets Bought and Sold\r\n\r\nVickers stared at it in disbelief. There was just the plain blank\r\ndoor squeezed between a theatre on the right and a travel agency with\r\nposters of the Martian deserts in its windows on the left. The blue\r\ndoor was hard to focus on--like a slightly blurred picture. He opened\r\nhis nictitating lids.\r\n\r\nTo his utter bewilderment, he found himself looking through the door\r\ninto the theatre lobby. The blue door didn\'t lead anywhere. It wasn\'t\r\neven a door, he realized, but an illusion!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers had been examined many times. "The peculiarity of your vision,"\r\none eminent psycho-biologist had told him, "lies in your ability to see\r\nmatter as it actually is. Tenuous unmaterial energy. There\'s more space\r\nbetween the nucleus of an atom and its electrons in proportion than\r\nbetween the sun and its planets. It\'s like looking at the stars"--and\r\nhe had waved his hand at the sky--"you can see them but they don\'t\r\nobstruct your vision."\r\n\r\nIt was a strange world that Vickers could see with the nictitating lids\r\nraised--a fairy-like insubstantial world, beautiful and shocking. A\r\nglass world without secrets.\r\n\r\nBut his eyes never lied to him. And the door didn\'t exist in fact.\r\nThere was only a blank theatre wall where he had seen it.\r\n\r\nThen the blond man stepped forward and went through the motions of\r\nopening the door.\r\n\r\n"Inside," he said and walked through and vanished!\r\n\r\nVickers knew he had vanished, because he could still see the misty\r\noutlines of the wall where the door should have been and the interior\r\nof the theatre. He felt his stomach go hollow. "In you go," the other\r\nman said and nudged him with the pistol.\r\n\r\nVickers allowed his nictitating lids to close.\r\n\r\nAt once he could see the door again, standing open, and a reception\r\nroom beyond. The blond man was just inside motioning for him to enter.\r\n\r\nVickers drew a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.\r\n\r\nThere was a moment of abysmal darkness, a giddy sensation, then Vickers\r\nfound himself standing in the reception room, ankle deep in carpet. He\r\nfelt unaccountably heavier--not as much as he would weigh on Earth but\r\nmore than he should weigh on the moon.\r\n\r\nA girl was approaching him. She said: "Go right in, Mr. Vickers,"\r\nindicating a door across the room; "they\'re waiting for you."\r\n\r\n"Who\'s waiting for me?"\r\n\r\n"Mr. Thorpe. The president of International Spy Ring, Inc. Right in\r\nhere, sir."\r\n\r\nThe utterly absurd title of the company struck him anew. The seven\r\ngreat nations would no more permit such a business to exist than they\r\nwould sit supinely by and allow an armed invasion.\r\n\r\nIn the first place they all maintained their own very efficient\r\nespionage and counter espionage systems. They couldn\'t afford to let\r\none nation grow more powerful than the rest. At any costs they had to\r\npreserve the status quo.\r\n\r\nHe didn\'t voice his doubts, but followed the receptionist into a large,\r\nspartanly furnished office. There were no windows, the room being lit\r\nby soft yellow light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.\r\nThe top of a huge desk of purely functional design was littered with\r\ngadgets, and behind it sat a bald, pink-faced man, wearing a pleasant\r\nexpression.\r\n\r\nThere was one other person in the room--a girl--and she was crying\r\nsoftly.\r\n\r\n"Mr. Thorpe," the receptionist said, "Mr. Vickers to see you," and\r\nwithdrew.\r\n\r\nThe girl turned her back quickly to Vickers so that he couldn\'t see her\r\nface, but he could watch her hands worrying the material of her dress.\r\n\r\nIt was an expensive dress, Vickers recognized, an exclusive Venusian\r\ncreation of green gossamer that was very nearly transparent even to his\r\nnormal vision. He was a little shocked and looked away.\r\n\r\nThe man called Thorpe beamed at him. "Glad to see you, Vickers," he\r\nsaid and made it sound genuine. "Won\'t you sit down?"\r\n\r\nVickers let himself sink into a chair across from the girl. He couldn\'t\r\nkeep from studying her. Her brown hair was done in a sort of halo\r\neffect and she wore wedge type sandals that must have added three\r\ninches to her height and made her feet look tiny.\r\n\r\nThorpe cleared his throat.\r\n\r\n"We had a good reason for bringing you here," he said; "I hope it\r\ndidn\'t inconvenience you too much."\r\n\r\n"Get to the point," said Vickers.\r\n\r\nThorpe looked startled.\r\n\r\n"Vickers, we can use a man with your unique talents. In fact, there\'s\r\na job that no one but you--"\r\n\r\n"Sorry."\r\n\r\nVickers was on his feet, starting for the door to the reception room.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be hasty," Thorpe said in an agitated voice. "I really can\'t let\r\nyou go until you hear me out."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers caught the veiled threat in his words, swung around. Thorpe\'s\r\nfinger was resting on a button. The girl had begun to sniff audibly.\r\n\r\n"All right," said Vickers, "but make it short. I have to register at\r\nthe Parole Board office before the expiration of twenty-four hours."\r\n\r\n"No hurry," Thorpe said, waving him back to his chair. "You met your\r\ndouble on the street. He\'s gone to the board to register in your\r\nplace. He\'ll also fill any job they see fit to assign you. So you see,\r\nVickers, you\'re quite free. You\'re even supplied with a perfect alibi."\r\n\r\nVickers did see. He saw a number of things, none of which reassured\r\nhim. He said: "Fingerprints?"\r\n\r\n"They\'ll check. He\'s wearing tips with your prints. So will his height\r\nand weight. He\'s a fine actor, Vickers, one of the best."\r\n\r\n"How did you get my prints? My record is in the ISP secret file, but--"\r\n\r\n"But that\'s our business. Secrets, Vickers. Any secrets. State secrets,\r\nscientific secrets." He chuckled. "We make no secret about it."\r\n\r\nVickers looked skeptical.\r\n\r\n"Do you mean to tell me that you could steal the plans, say, of the\r\nUSSE\'s new space drive?"\r\n\r\nThorpe rubbed his hands together, his grin broadening.\r\n\r\n"We sold them the plans. In fact, we sold those same plans to the\r\nBlack Republic, the Arab Federation, China and New Spain as well. The\r\nonly reason we didn\'t sell them to the United States is because they\r\nhappened to be the ones who had developed them."\r\n\r\nHe paused to let his words sink in. "That may seem unethical, but it\'s\r\nour policy. In our small way, we feel that we help to preserve the\r\nstatus quo."\r\n\r\n"Rubbish!" said Vickers. "If you\'d done that, they would have sent the\r\nlot of you off to Jupiter."\r\n\r\n"They try." Thorpe looked at his watch. "In fact, Vickers, we have\r\ninformation that the ISP plans to raid us in exactly twenty-three\r\nminutes."\r\n\r\nVickers stiffened. "Is that straight?"\r\n\r\n"Quite. But don\'t alarm yourself. They\'ll never get past the blue door."\r\n\r\nFar from being soothing, Thorpe\'s reassurance had just the opposite\r\neffect on Vickers. For the first time, he began to doubt that he could\r\nget through that blue door himself. There was something so damned\r\ncomplacent about the man behind the desk--\r\n\r\nIn sudden alarm, Vickers opened his nictitating lids, flicked a quick\r\nglance around.\r\n\r\nThe room was quite real, but there was no sign of Luna City nor of the\r\nmoon\'s desolate surface. He sucked in his breath.\r\n\r\nThe office seemed to be part of a large windowless structure. He could\r\nsee, through the walls, a restless ochre sea outside and a red pebble\r\nbeach. Strange, sinuous vegetation cloaked the shore.\r\n\r\n"Where are we?" he blurted out. "How did I get here?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry," said Thorpe, "but that\'s one secret that isn\'t for sale."\r\n\r\nVickers closed the nictitating lids and the office recovered its\r\nsolidity.\r\n\r\n"What\'s your proposition?"\r\n\r\nThorpe gave him a shrewd look. "This is Tani Fralick," he introduced\r\nthe girl. "I\'m sure you\'ve heard of her father. He\'s the physicist...."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers sat bolt upright. Fralick was probably the most renowned man on\r\nEarth, Mars or Venus. He certainly was the Systems greatest physicist.\r\nFralick was head of the United States\' Bureau of Research. It was\r\npractically treason for his daughter to be in the offices of such an\r\norganization as "International Spy Ring, Inc."\r\n\r\nThorpe said: "Tani\'s father has been abducted by the Arab Federation."\r\n\r\nThe girl gave a muffled sob, buried her face in her hands.\r\n\r\nVickers yelled: "What!" Then in a lower voice, "But there\'s been\r\nnothing on the newscasts."\r\n\r\n"Of course not. The U.S. is hushing it up. They don\'t want it\r\nbroadcast that their top experimental physicist has been stolen. They\r\ndon\'t even know who has him or where he is. Tani has asked us to get\r\nher father back."\r\n\r\n"Where is he?"\r\n\r\nThorpe didn\'t look so cherubic as he drummed on the desk top.\r\n\r\n"Here. Luna City. He\'s being held in the embassy of the Arab\r\nFederation."\r\n\r\nVickers said: "Why don\'t you turn your information over to the U.S.?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s not as simple as that. The Arabs would kill him before they\'d\r\ngive him up."\r\n\r\nVickers shrugged. "If the U.S. with all its resources can\'t release\r\nhim, I don\'t see how you expect me to do it."\r\n\r\n"You can, though. In fact you\'re the only one who can. The question is,\r\nwill you?"\r\n\r\n"No!" said Vickers flatly; "I won\'t."\r\n\r\n"But--"\r\n\r\n"No buts about it. With my record, it would be poison for me, if my\r\nname ever became associated with anything like International Spy Ring,\r\nInc. I\'m through, Thorpe, I\'ve quit. I can\'t afford to be sent back to\r\nJupiter."\r\n\r\nTani Fralick suddenly burst into a flood of tears. Vickers clenched his\r\nfist. At that instant a bell began to ring insistently.\r\n\r\n"The raid," Thorpe said. "What say we watch it? Anyway, Vickers, you\r\ncan\'t leave \'til it\'s over."\r\n\r\nVickers grunted, sank deeper into his chair. Tani\'s soft child-like\r\ncrying was getting under his skin, but he steeled himself against it.\r\n\r\nThorpe pressed a button on his desk, and a huge televisor screen on\r\nthe wall behind him glowed into life. The multiple noises of Luna City\r\nrolled into the office shattering their isolation. The tri-dimensional\r\neffect was so real, that it was as if the wall itself had been removed\r\nand they were peering directly into the street outside the blue door.\r\nVickers could read its idiotic sign.\r\n\r\n INTERNATIONAL SPY RING\r\n INCORPORATED\r\n Secrets Bought and Sold\r\n\r\nAll at once he frowned as he discovered the silent men converging on\r\nthe entrance. They were dressed in civilian clothes, threading their\r\nway unobtrusively through the press. ISP men, Vickers recognized, with\r\na thrill of alarm.\r\n\r\nOne of them reached the portal, put out his hand for the knob.\r\n\r\nThe blue door vanished.\r\n\r\nIt simply went out like a light, leaving the ISP man staring stupidly\r\nat the blank wall of the theatre.\r\n\r\nThorpe snapped off the televisor. Vickers could see that he was\r\nchuckling.\r\n\r\n"The fun\'s over," he said. "But they\'ll be nosing around there for a\r\nweek. There\'s really no door there, you know."\r\n\r\n"Yes, I know. But I\'ll be damned if I understand."\r\n\r\n"You will," Thorpe said cryptically. Then he switched on the\r\ninter-office com. "Miss Stevens, see that this memo is circulated\r\nthroughout the organization. \'Due to a police raid, the new offices of\r\nInternational Spy Ring, Inc., are located at B624-1/2 Water Street,\r\nLevel Three\'."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe clicked it off, stared at Vickers coldly. All the friendliness was\r\ngone.\r\n\r\n"Suppose we quit fencing. We know your history, Vickers. You used to\r\nclaim that you could arrange the escape of any prisoner, no matter\r\nwhere he was being held--for a price. You made monkeys out of the ISP\r\nfor a while. How many men have you broken out of the Jupiter Penal\r\nMines and readjustment camps?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know," said Vickers. "It was a good racket while it lasted."\r\n\r\n"But you couldn\'t finagle your own escape, could you?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s easier to work from the outside," Vickers rejoined laconically.\r\n\r\nThorpe said in a nasty voice: "That\'s just the point I\'d like to make.\r\nEither you help us release Fralick, or we\'ll frame you and turn you\r\nover to the ISP."\r\n\r\nVickers\' eyes narrowed. He leaned suddenly across the desk, hit Thorpe\r\non the chin with his balled fist!\r\n\r\nThere was a "crack!" as Thorpe\'s jaw bone snapped. He was bowled over\r\nbackward to lie in an unconscious heap against the wall.\r\n\r\nTani screamed. She tried to reach the desk, but Vickers grabbed her off\r\nher feet, thrust her under his arm.\r\n\r\n"Put me down! Put me down," she cried furiously, kicking, squirming.\r\nVickers paid no more attention to her frantic wriggling than he would\r\nhave to a kitten. His inner lids were raised and he was staring with a\r\nstrange fixity at the alien world visible through the walls.\r\n\r\n"What are you going to do?" Tani gasped. "Are you crazy? You can\'t walk\r\nout of here. The blue door isn\'t operating. Besides, even if you did\r\nget away the Ring would have you framed."\r\n\r\n"I\'m not going back to Luna City," Vickers said tersely. "I\'m going\r\noutside."\r\n\r\n"Outside!"\r\n\r\n"Yes." He started for the reception room. "I don\'t know where we are.\r\nAnother world, another dimension, it\'s all the same. I\'ll be free of\r\nthe ISP. I\'ll find a way out if I have to break through the walls."\r\n\r\n"But you can\'t!" she wailed. "The atmosphere outside it! It--it\'s\r\nchlorine!"\r\n\r\nVickers felt as if someone had kicked him in the belly. He set Tani on\r\nher feet.\r\n\r\n"How do _you_ know?"\r\n\r\n"Thorpe showed me. He--he--" she straightened her skirt managing to\r\nlook flustered--"he\'s been very friendly."\r\n\r\n"Where are we?"\r\n\r\n"In another dimension, I think. The blue door is a--a stasis, Thorpe\r\ncalled it. Don\'t ask me how they do it. They came through in space\r\nsuits and built this hermetically-sealed fortress."\r\n\r\nVickers was silent. After a moment, he said: "All right, you win. I\'ll\r\nbreak out your father if it can be done."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers sat in a chair facing a blank wall; his nictitating lids were\r\nraised, the pupils of his eyes like lambent flame. Beyond the wall lay\r\nthe embassy of the Arab Federation.\r\n\r\n"What do you see?" demanded Tani in a suppressed voice.\r\n\r\nVickers and the girl were in the house of Seth Adda, an ex-senator and\r\na friend of Tani\'s father. He had been happy to lend Tani his house,\r\nwhich was on the eighth level flush against the Arabian Embassy.\r\n\r\nVickers was dressed in a snuff-brown burnoose, the national Arab\r\ncostume. He said:\r\n\r\n"There\'s a sleeping room just beyond the wall. This part of the embassy\r\nmust be the private quarters of one of the officials. The room opens on\r\na hall. There are six--seven--eight other bedrooms along it. I think\r\nit\'s the harem. There\'s a swimming pool to the left."\r\n\r\n"Can you see him?" Tani pleaded.\r\n\r\n"Yes. But not very plainly. He\'s in a tiny cell almost in the center of\r\nthe embassy. There\'s a guard in front of the door."\r\n\r\n"Is--is he all right? They haven\'t hurt him?"\r\n\r\nVickers concentrated on the vague outlines of the man lying on his\r\nbunk. A thin man, elderly, with hollow cheeks. "So that\'s Doctor\r\nFralick," he thought, "greatest theoretical physicist since Einstein."\r\n\r\nHe said aloud:\r\n\r\n"He seems okay."\r\n\r\nTani expelled her breath in relief. Vickers looked at her suddenly and\r\nsaw that tears were running down her cheeks. Involuntarily he started\r\nto reach out his hand to comfort her, remembered the repugnance normal\r\nhumans felt toward him and let his hand drop to his knee.\r\n\r\nThe girl disturbed him. She was wearing practical gray coveralls\r\ninstead of the filmy creation she\'d had on yesterday. She was beautiful\r\neven in the baggy garment, but it wasn\'t altogether that. With the\r\nstrides that had been made in eugenics, an ugly man or woman was the\r\nexception and, perversely, often had more appeal than the uniformly\r\nhandsome ones.\r\n\r\nNo, he was hungry for a woman, hungry for companionship and admiration.\r\n\r\nHe frowned, catching himself up with a jerk. Self pity! He\'d better\r\nwatch himself. That way led to neurosis, manic depression and insanity.\r\n\r\nHe wished Tani would go away and leave him alone. He worked better\r\nalone. But he knew she\'d been set to watch him. The Ring probably\r\nthought she\'d do a better job of it since it was to her interest to see\r\nthat he didn\'t double-cross them.\r\n\r\nShe said, "Clyde."\r\n\r\n"Yes?" He was startled and dropped his nictitating lids. She\'d never\r\ncalled him by his first name before.\r\n\r\n"You resent being forced into this job, don\'t you? I\'m sorry. Honest I\r\nam, Clyde. But it was father\'s life or--or...."\r\n\r\n"Or mine," he supplied dryly.\r\n\r\n"That isn\'t fair."\r\n\r\n"Isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"No. You\'ll be protected and alibied--"\r\n\r\nHe said: "How much do you know about International Spy Ring, Inc.?"\r\n\r\nShe looked startled, her eyes widening. "Not--not very much, I guess.\r\nI\'ve heard father speak of them. They\'re big, Clyde. You don\'t know how\r\nbig. They\'ve offices on Earth and Mars and Venus, too. The ISP can\'t do\r\na thing. They can\'t get past the blue doors. You can\'t fight the Ring.\r\nThey\'re invulnerable."\r\n\r\n"Nothing\'s invulnerable."\r\n\r\n"Clyde!" Her hand started towards him, dropped.\r\n\r\nShe can\'t bring herself to touch me, he thought. They\'re friendly\r\nnow--because I\'m necessary; they can\'t do without my help. But what\r\nabout afterwards? What then?\r\n\r\nIf he were lucky, he\'d be set free, to work in the moon pits where\r\nhis double was now. If he were lucky! He shivered a little. He knew\r\ntoo much about International Spy Ring, Inc. As soon as he was of no\r\nmore use to them, they\'d dispose of him. Permanently. Probably in that\r\ndimension where their office was located. That beautiful little world\r\nwith the atmosphere of chlorine.\r\n\r\n"Clyde," Tani repeated. "What are you going to do? You\'re not planning\r\nto double-cross the Ring, are you? Not that, Clyde?"\r\n\r\n"No." But he filed the idea away. The ISP might be willing to forget\r\nhis record, let him start out with a clean slate if he could deliver\r\nthe Ring into their hands.\r\n\r\n"Why did the Arabs kidnap your father?" he asked Tani suddenly.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe girl hesitated. "He--he was working on teleportation. And somehow\r\nthey got wind of it. It would have made space ships outdated. Armies\r\ncould be transported instantly behind enemy lines. It would have made\r\nthe United States supreme. He was about to succeed." She shook her\r\nhead. "But I don\'t see how the Arabs learned about it."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you?"\r\n\r\n"No." She looked puzzled, then her brown eyes widened in comprehension.\r\n"The Ring! But they\'re helping to rescue him."\r\n\r\n"Why not? They\'re getting paid by both sides. You heard Thorpe admit\r\nthat they\'d sold the space drive to every one of the seven countries."\r\n\r\n"No. I can\'t believe it, Clyde." She bit her lip. "They\'re not like\r\nthat. Not really."\r\n\r\n"Rubbish."\r\n\r\nThe girl\'s face had grown very white. "You won\'t let me down, Clyde.\r\nYou\'ll get father out, whatever you do?"\r\n\r\nHe opened his nictitating lids, peered through the wall into the\r\nembassy. There were two women in the swimming pool. The sleeping\r\nchamber was empty. So was the hallway.\r\n\r\nHe said, "Yes." Then, "Check the route. This is it."\r\n\r\nHe heard her gasp. Then she began to talk hurriedly into a tiny radio\r\nstrapped about her wrist.\r\n\r\nVickers looked up and down through the various floors of the embassy\r\nnext door, checking the position of the guard details, the officials\r\nand their families. It was going to be tricky, he saw, a matter of\r\nsplit second timing.\r\n\r\nHe got up and examined the sleek air taxi. It was a transparent plastic\r\ntear drop and filled a fourth of the room.\r\n\r\nOne outer wall of the room had been removed outright. It had been\r\nsimulated with cloth flats like stage props so that it looked normal\r\nenough from the outside. But when the time arrived, the air taxi could\r\nburst right through it into the street.\r\n\r\nThe Ring was thorough, Vickers had to admit. And ruthlessly efficient.\r\n\r\nHe said: "Get in the taxi and start the motor. Tell them we\'ll crack\r\nout of here in exactly fifteen minutes."\r\n\r\nHe heard her catch her breath and wheeled on her suddenly.\r\n\r\n"What\'s wrong?" he demanded sharply. "Good Lord, don\'t go into a funk\r\nnow!"\r\n\r\n"Hold it!" she said, the radio to her ear. He saw the blood drain\r\nout of her face as she listened. Then she clicked it off, turned\r\nfrightened eyes on him.\r\n\r\n"It\'s your double." Her voice sounded lifeless. "The ISP has discovered\r\nthe substitution. They have the net out for you now. You couldn\'t get a\r\nblock without being caught."\r\n\r\nVickers could feel his stomach knot with shock. He stared at her, his\r\nblazing eyes probing straight through her. Anywhere else in the system,\r\nhe might have been able to escape.\r\n\r\nBut Luna City! It was like a hermetically-sealed gold fish bowl with\r\nthe ISP blocking all the exits. Sooner or later they\'d dig him out.\r\n\r\nSterilization and a life sentence to the Jupiter Penal Mines! There was\r\nno leniency shown third offenders, no matter how minor the infraction.\r\n\r\nHe got a grip on himself with an effort.\r\n\r\n"Tell them," he said to the girl, "we\'ll crack out of here according to\r\nschedule."\r\n\r\nHer mouth made a soundless O.\r\n\r\n"Get in the taxi and start the motor," he said with a grim sparkle of\r\nhumor. "I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb!"\r\n\r\n"But how\'ll we slip through the ISP net?" Tani protested.\r\n\r\n"Get in there," Vickers said in a voice that brooked no questions. He\r\nswung back to the wall separating them from the Arabian embassy. The\r\nadjoining bedroom, he saw, was still empty.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe drew the atomic knife from its holster beneath his burnoose, pressed\r\nthe stud. A long blade of coruscating atomic energy shot from the\r\nhandle.\r\n\r\nThe blade went into the wall as if the tough plastic had been butter.\r\nWith infinite caution, Vickers cut a four foot window into the next\r\nbuilding, lifted out the block.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t fumble your part," he said over his shoulder. "We may be in a\r\nhurry when we come back this way."\r\n\r\nWithout waiting for a reply, he stepped through, fitted the block back\r\ninto place.\r\n\r\nHis last glimpse of Tani revealed her crouched in the transparent\r\nplastic air taxi, her eyes round and frightened as two new moons.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers didn\'t hurry. Hope for success lay in two factors: audacity and\r\nhis peculiar vision which allowed him to see what his opponents were\r\ndoing and so keep a number of jumps ahead.\r\n\r\nThe Arabs were a mixture of the old and the new. Scientifically, they\r\nwere on a par with any of the seven great nations, but they clung with\r\nsuperstitious fanaticism to the old customs, the old way of life.\r\n\r\nThe harem was still inviolate, and Vickers knew there would be a guard\r\noutside its door.\r\n\r\nHe located him through several walls that acted like layers of\r\ncheesecloth to his eyes, dimming the guard\'s figure but not obscuring\r\nit. He found the women. There were four, and half a dozen servants\r\nbesides. But they were congregated at the pool and in two of the rooms.\r\n\r\nHe could watch them laughing and chatting or swimming in the limpid\r\nwater. Dark-eyed houris with slender waists and full hips and breasts.\r\nIt was like a silent film of the ancients. But infinitely more real.\r\n\r\nAnd deadly.\r\n\r\nThere was no one in the hall. Satisfied, Vickers left the bedroom,\r\nwalked swiftly down the carpeted hall until he reached the door at the\r\nend.\r\n\r\nHe could see the harem guard leaning against the wall, a burly bearded\r\nfigure with a hawk nose and a hawk\'s fierce eyes. An automatic was\r\nbelted outside his blue and white striped burnoose.\r\n\r\nWithout hesitation or haste, Vickers ran the atomic knife through the\r\nlock, forced open the door.\r\n\r\nThe guard spun around, gaping in surprise. He caught sight of Vickers,\r\nreached for the automatic.\r\n\r\n"By Allah!" he began.\r\n\r\nVickers cut off his head.\r\n\r\nThe head hit the floor with a thump, rolled a little, came to rest on\r\nits stump, staring at Vickers out of open, startled eyes.\r\n\r\nIt upset Vickers, made him a little sick at his stomach. He swallowed,\r\nglanced about quickly.\r\n\r\nThree men, he discovered, were approaching around a bend in the\r\ncorridor. He had perhaps a minute or a minute and a half before they\r\ncame into sight.\r\n\r\nHe stuffed the guard\'s body into a closet, threw the head in after it.\r\nHe covered the bloodstains with a carpet, welded shut the harem door\r\nwith the tip of the atomic knife. Then he ran up the corridor away from\r\nthe approaching men.\r\n\r\nThis whole wing must be the living quarters of the embassy staff. It\r\nwas preternaturally quiet like the upper floors of a hotel. He could\r\nsee a few people in their rooms, one or two in the corridors, which he\r\navoided automatically.\r\n\r\nThe cell block where Fralick was being held was located in the main\r\nbuilding. The traffic was considerably heavier there, and Vickers\'\r\neyes were never still. They darted here, there, watching one person\'s\r\nprogress, judging how many seconds it would take another to reach a\r\ncertain intersection.\r\n\r\nHis ears were alerted for the first outbreak of the alarm bell.\r\nHe didn\'t have time to notice the antique hangings, the exquisite\r\ndecorations, though he did catch an impression of sumptuousness.\r\n\r\nThe rear of Fralick\'s cell butted against the back of an office. In\r\nadvance Vickers had determined to cut through the wall between office\r\nand cell and so avoid killing the guard. If he were lucky, he would\r\navoid detection for precious minutes also.\r\n\r\nHe had almost reached his objective when a heavy-set bearded official\r\nentered the office and sat down behind the desk.\r\n\r\nVickers could see him mistily as he set to work with some papers. He\r\nswore furiously under his breath, but didn\'t pause. Throwing open the\r\ndoor, he jumped into the chamber.\r\n\r\nIn the feeble gravity of the moon, Vickers\' leap carried him across the\r\nroom to the top of the Arab\'s desk.\r\n\r\nThe official gasped, tried to rise and call out. His face was turned up\r\nto Vickers--a long frightened face with skin like yellow leather.\r\n\r\nVickers kicked him on his pointed chin.\r\n\r\nThe Arab went over backwards with a crash. Vickers didn\'t glance at\r\nhim, but shut the door, attacked the far wall with the atomic knife.\r\n\r\nHe lifted out a four foot segment. Fralick was on the other side\r\nstaring at the opening like a startled cat.\r\n\r\n"What--" he began, catching sight of Vickers.\r\n\r\nVickers said low voiced: "Shut up. Come on!" Holding out his hand, he\r\nhalf-helped, half-yanked the physicist from the cell.\r\n\r\n"Who are you?" Fralick\'s clothes were wrinkled and he needed a shave.\r\nHe was gaunt, pale, excited. "I know! You\'re Vickers!"\r\n\r\nVickers\' eyes narrowed in surprise, but he only said: "Hurry!"\r\n\r\nThe passage outside was still deserted, thank the gods. He pulled the\r\nphysicist after him, sprinted toward the living quarters in the wing.\r\n\r\nThere were voices ahead. Two men going in the same direction they were,\r\nVickers saw. He slowed down in order not to trample their heels.\r\n\r\nHe was nervous now. He could feel the time running through his fingers.\r\n\r\nStill no alarm! They burst out of the corridor into an enormous hall,\r\ncrossed it swiftly, ducked down another passage. Damn place was a rat\r\nrun. Fralick was panting. "Hold out, old man!" Vickers thought. "Hold\r\nout!" Still no alarm. They were going to make it. They had to--\r\n\r\nAll the bells in the world seemed to cut loose at once!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers jumped as if he\'d been shot.\r\n\r\nFralick clutched his chest. For a moment Vickers was afraid the\r\nscientist would pass out.\r\n\r\nThe bell rang frenziedly.\r\n\r\nHundreds of bells! Everywhere. Bells and shouts and trampling feet.\r\nThrough the misty walls Vickers could see running soldiers, frightened\r\nofficials, women and children. A vast terrifying pandemonium like a\r\ndisturbed ant nest--like a glass ant colony kept for observation.\r\n\r\nThen the doors began to whoosh shut. Automatic doors closing off the\r\npassages. Blocking escape! One rammed shut just behind them.\r\n\r\nA party of guards caught sight of them. Steel jacketed bullets\r\nricocheted and whined down the corridor.\r\n\r\nVickers threw a gas grenade. The guards were blotted out by a fountain\r\nof pale green mist. It wasn\'t deadly, but it would knock out the Arabs,\r\nclose off the passage temporarily.\r\n\r\nFralick was sobbing for breath. Suddenly Vickers grabbed him by the\r\nshoulder.\r\n\r\n"Here! This way! Through the harem."\r\n\r\nWith the atomic knife he freed the door which he\'d sealed a few minutes\r\nbefore. A few minutes! He glanced at his watch. Eighteen minutes\r\nexactly; it seemed like hours! He was over his time. He put his\r\nshoulder to the door, threw it back with a crash.\r\n\r\nThere was a cluster of frightened women in the corridor. When they\r\nsaw Vickers and Fralick, they began to scream and fled screaming like\r\nchickens from a hawk.\r\n\r\nVickers paid no attention to them, but rushed to the bedroom where he\r\nhad cut through the wall. Kicking out the segment he almost hurled\r\nFralick through the opening.\r\n\r\nTani was waiting in the air taxi with the door open. A white, strained\r\nTani with a face like a mask.\r\n\r\n"Dad," she cried.\r\n\r\nFralick tumbled into the taxi. Vickers started to shut the door, but\r\nTani held it open.\r\n\r\n"Get in," she begged in a tight voice. "Quick!"\r\n\r\n"No," he said. "The ISP would spot me in that air taxi and stop us. You\r\ncan get through all right by yourselves."\r\n\r\nConsternation mirrored itself on Tani\'s waxen features. She shook her\r\nhead. "We\'re not going without you."\r\n\r\n"Yes, you are!" he said; "no time to explain. I\'ll meet you at the blue\r\ndoor."\r\n\r\nShe was almost in tears. "Clyde, we\'re not going to leave you behind!"\r\n\r\nThrough the gaping hole in the wall behind them, Vickers could hear the\r\nsounds of pursuit closing in, but he didn\'t look around.\r\n\r\n"You little fool!" he said brutally, "do you want to get me killed? Do\r\nwhat I say. This is my kind of work!"\r\n\r\nSuddenly she leaned from the air taxi, kissed him hard on the mouth.\r\nHer eyes were wet.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll be waiting," she said, catching her breath; "you crazy Quixotic\r\nidiot. I\'ll wait forever."\r\n\r\nThen she slammed the door. The taxi roared, bull throated, and leaped\r\nforward, bursting a hole in the false wall.\r\n\r\nVickers stared after the diminishing air cab, rubbing his mouth with\r\nthe back of his hand.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll be damned," he said softly; "I\'ll be damned." Then he turned\r\naround.\r\n\r\nHe was just in time to see the first of the Arab guards lunge through\r\nthe hole in the wall of the embassy.\r\n\r\nVickers hurled his other gas grenade. The egg-shaped glass bomb smashed\r\nagainst the floor. Plumes of the pale green paralysis gas shot upward.\r\nBut Vickers didn\'t wait to see its effect.\r\n\r\nHe left through the hole torn by the air taxi, reached the pavement,\r\nbegan to walk rapidly toward the corner, the snuff-brown burnoose\r\nflapping about his ankles.\r\n\r\nHe had seconds only before the pursuit would develop again. The bomb\r\nwas a delaying action, no more.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nUp ahead he could see a road block, and pedestrians milling around in\r\nthe street. A net hung from the level above, halting the air traffic.\r\nThe ISP was on the job.\r\n\r\n"Out of the frying pan into the fire," he thought grimly. He glanced\r\nback toward the house, although the Arabs couldn\'t possibly come\r\nthrough the room until they\'d procured a fan and blown the fumes clear.\r\n\r\nAn ISP patrol boat was gliding slowly up the street behind him. It was\r\nmanned by two men and was traveling just above the surface traffic.\r\nA shallow, heavily armed and armored craft, it reminded Vickers of a\r\ngiant ray as it floated lazily through the air.\r\n\r\nHe jumped to the edge of the pavement, waved the patrol boat down\r\nfrantically.\r\n\r\nIt gave a low moan on its siren, swung in to the curb. The door opened.\r\n\r\nThe two men inside wore uniforms--smart blue breeches and blouses\r\ntrimmed in gold with the ISP insignia--three interlocking worlds\r\nrepresenting Earth, Venus and Mars--emblazoned on their shoulders. They\r\nwere both young and clean cut. Only their eyes looked old and hard.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the trouble?" the officer nearest Vickers asked shortly.\r\n\r\n"I saw him!" Vickers sounded excited. "I saw him!"\r\n\r\n"Saw who?"\r\n\r\n"The mutant!"\r\n\r\nThe ISP agents exchanged glances. At that instant Vickers hit the one\r\non the outside in the temple. He hit him with the handle of the atomic\r\nknife. The man slumped forward, bumped his head against the slanting\r\nwindshield. Vickers was already sliding in beside him.\r\n\r\nHe shoved the unconscious agent to the floor boards, pressed the stud\r\non the knife handle. The blade of sparkling flame glittered into life.\r\n\r\n"Take us up!" he said to the startled man at the controls; "and don\'t\r\ntouch the radio!" Almost as an afterthought he added softly: "I\'m\r\nVickers. I\'d just as soon die now, all at once, as be sent back to the\r\nJupiter Mines to die by degrees."\r\n\r\nThe ISP man blanched. He lifted the patrol boat into the air, sent it\r\nscooting down the street. He kept dropping his eyes to the shimmering\r\nblade of flame.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t get that thing too close," he pleaded hoarsely.\r\n\r\nVickers said: "B624-1/2 Water Street, level 3. And I won\'t get the\r\nblade too close if we get through without trouble."\r\n\r\n"But suppose I\'m ordered in?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s your tough luck."\r\n\r\nThe ISP man was sweating. But he didn\'t dare remove his hands from the\r\ncontrols. Beadlets of perspiration rolled down his cheeks and chin\r\nunheeded.\r\n\r\nAs they approached the roadblock, he touched the siren. At its eerie\r\nwail, a man hauled up the net, and the patrol boat slid beneath it.\r\n\r\nVickers let his breath escape. He was sweating too, he realized. His\r\nforehead felt clammy as a dead fish.\r\n\r\nThey reached the blue door without being bothered, though. Vickers\r\nstared at the sign:\r\n\r\n INTERNATIONAL SPY RING\r\n INCORPORATED\r\n Secrets Bought and Sold\r\n\r\nIt was the one place in Luna City where the ISP couldn\'t reach him. But\r\nwould the ring give him sanctuary? He didn\'t know.\r\n\r\n"They will," he thought; "they will, by Heaven, or take the\r\nconsequences!"\r\n\r\nHe said: "Here\'s where I leave you, officer. Thanks for the lift," and\r\nslid out of the patrol boat.\r\n\r\nThe ISP man had guts. Vickers had taken his automatic, but the agent\r\nreached for the emergency guns in the locker. Before he could shoot,\r\nthough, Vickers had disappeared through the blue door.\r\n\r\nHe sprang from the patrol boat, started after him. He was three feet\r\nfrom the blue door when it vanished.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nInside the reception room, Vickers balanced on the balls of his feet,\r\nthe ISP agent\'s automatic in his hand. His mouth was a thin line.\r\nExcept for Vickers, the room was empty.\r\n\r\nHe was about to raise his nictitating lids when the door of the inner\r\noffice opened and Tani flew to meet him. Involuntarily, he jerked up\r\nthe automatic, but the girl didn\'t even notice it.\r\n\r\n"Clyde!" she said, and threw her arms about him, clinging desperately\r\nas if she were afraid to turn loose. "I\'ve been so afraid." There was a\r\nfunny little catch in her voice.\r\n\r\nVickers stared down at her, refusing to believe his senses. Then she\r\ntilted her head back, and he could see the relief and happiness shining\r\nin her eyes--and something besides.\r\n\r\nVickers kissed her. All his doubts were suddenly swept away and somehow\r\nthe old hurts along with them.\r\n\r\n"Mr. Vickers," the receptionist said.\r\n\r\nHe hadn\'t noticed her enter the room. But he looked up and she was\r\nsmiling too. There was no repugnance in her eyes.\r\n\r\nHe said: "Yes."\r\n\r\n"They\'re waiting to see you, Mr. Vickers. If you\'ll just step this way."\r\n\r\nHe glanced questioningly at Tani, who nodded. Together they entered\r\nThorpe\'s office.\r\n\r\nFralick was there, looking old and tired and a little messy. He was\r\nsitting behind the big desk with Thorpe at his elbow. There were two\r\nothers in the office, a tall, parchment-faced Chinese, obviously of\r\nManchu descent and an Arab with the features of a Biblical patriarch.\r\nThey were smiling, all except Thorpe, who couldn\'t very well with his\r\njaw in a cast.\r\n\r\nDoctor Fralick put the palms of his hands on the desk and leaned\r\nforward. He said, "I\'m very glad you made it, Vickers. I haven\'t had a\r\nchance to express my appreciation."\r\n\r\nVickers wrinkled his forehead. There was an air of hopeful friendliness\r\ntinctured with awe in their attitude that puzzled him. He didn\'t say\r\nanything.\r\n\r\nFralick looked vaguely embarrassed. "I--we\'ve another favor to ask you,\r\nVickers. We want you to come in with us."\r\n\r\n"What?" said Vickers in a stunned voice.\r\n\r\n"We want you in International Spy Ring, Inc. Need you. We--well, we\r\nwouldn\'t expect you to accept a minor position of course. Not a man of\r\nyour calibre. If you\'ll join us, Vickers, you can take charge of the\r\nfield work. None of us is so well fitted for active duty as you with\r\nyour enviable vision, your resourcefulness."\r\n\r\nVickers didn\'t know what to say. That anybody envied him, wanted him\r\naround, considered him an asset, knocked a hole in his armor. He had no\r\ndefenses against friendliness.\r\n\r\n"But you," he said; "Doctor Fralick, you\'re head of the U.S. Bureau of\r\nResearch--"\r\n\r\n"I\'m also the head of International Spy Ring, Inc."\r\n\r\nAt Vickers\' expression, Fralick allowed a smile to flit across his\r\nvisage.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t judge us too harshly. Science is international, not the property\r\nof one individual or one nation, even. It must belong to everybody.\r\n\r\n"We don\'t want power. We\'re after peace and tolerance and the\r\ndissemination of knowledge. We\'re united, Vickers. The scientists, the\r\ntechnicians, the engineers of the seven great nations. Not all of us,\r\nbut enough of us."\r\n\r\nHe gave Vickers a shrewd penetrating look. "Our way may not seem\r\nethical, but it works. When there are no secrets between countries, war\r\nis almost impossible. And there are no secrets anymore; we see to that.\r\n\r\n"If the Arab Federation discovers a new gas, we sell the formula to\r\neach of the other countries. If the Black Republic or China starts a\r\nprogram of military training or lays the keel of a new battleship, in a\r\nweek everyone of the other countries has the complete details.\r\n\r\n"We don\'t sell the information for profit, Vickers, but to finance the\r\norganization."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nVickers was stunned. The realization that the Ring was not a hard\r\ngrasping organization of thieves, spies and traitors; but an\r\ninternational group comprising the finest minds and bent on preserving\r\nthe peace, left him completely bewildered.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know what to say," he said. "Of course I\'ll join you."\r\n\r\n"Good." Fralick jumped up, came around the desk with his hand out.\r\n"We\'ll get you a pardon. It wouldn\'t do for my son-in-law to be a\r\nfugitive from the ISP." He winked at the others who had crowded about\r\nVickers, pumping his hand.\r\n\r\nIt occurred to Vickers that these men were pleased to have him--not in\r\nspite of his mutation, but because of it! They\'d even been a little\r\nafraid he might turn them down.\r\n\r\nIt was a new experience for him, a good experience. He had the sudden\r\nconviction that at last he\'d found his place in the world. It made him\r\nfeel warm.\r\n\r\nThe Chinese was saying: "You\'re a violent man, Vickers, a dangerous\r\nman. We were afraid that you might not see eye to eye with us in our\r\naims."\r\n\r\n"No," Vickers protested, really shocked. "No, I\'m not a violent man. I\r\ndo what I must and do it as quickly and effectively as I can. But I\'m\r\nnot violent."\r\n\r\nThorpe\'s eyes twinkled. Seizing a pencil he wrote something, held it up\r\nfor them all to see, at the same time tapping the cast on his jaw.\r\n\r\nVickers couldn\'t repress his grin. Tani squeezed his hand.\r\n\r\nThorpe had written: "The gods help us all, if he ever does get violent!"\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOON OF TREASON ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Moonlight and Robots'

'Dunham, Jerry'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Moonlight and Robots\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Moonlight and Robots\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Jerry Dunham\r\n\r\nRelease date: October 19, 2021 [eBook #66571]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOONLIGHT AND ROBOTS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Moonlight and Robots\r\n\r\n By Jerry Dunham\r\n\r\n Thad hated the silly custom demanding a\r\n robot romance. If a man wasn\'t careful a thing\r\n like that could linger on--after the wedding!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n May 1955\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThad Morgan looked around his little room. The two deactivated robots\r\nand the framework that suspended the limp suit hardly left room for him\r\nto move around. At the moment he felt mildly disgusted with this whole\r\nconvention.\r\n\r\nHe asked himself why engagements and marriages had to be surrounded\r\nwith tradition and ridiculous games. But, of course, he had to go\r\nthrough with it. Myrna seemed to have been filled with excitement when\r\nthey were discussing the final plans for the ceremony. He might as well\r\nget started. He glanced at the clock; it was almost eight. He picked up\r\nthe book of rules and looked at it again.\r\n\r\nHe re-read the instructions for operating the mechanism. First,\r\nit said, inspect the facsimile and see that it is well-groomed and\r\nentirely in order. He looked at the two lifeless twins of himself.\r\nYes, they looked all right. He decided which one he would use tonight.\r\nThen, he read, he was to get into the suit (the book called it a\r\nharness), activate the selected facsimile, and set the controls. It\r\nwent on to say that every movement he made would be duplicated by the\r\nrobot. Everything the facsimile experienced would be transmitted to the\r\nharness becoming his experiences. Well, he had practiced all that since\r\nrenting the thing three days ago. He turned towards the marriage game\r\nrules.\r\n\r\nThe rules dictated seven situations. That would mean, in his case,\r\nseven evenings for Myrna and him to decide whether they were meeting\r\neach other\'s robots or their real selves.\r\n\r\nThe book pointed out that the primary or real body had to be used\r\nat least once in the first five situations. The first contestant to\r\ncorrectly identify the other\'s real body won the game and the contest\r\nwas over. The winner received commendation and was supposed to be the\r\ndominant spouse. Of course, the last was mere convention. However,\r\nthe most important, the most rigid, and to Thad the most fantastic,\r\nrule in the whole contest was that if the girl won, the couple was\r\nrequired to wait a year before completing the marriage ceremony. That\r\nseemed a weightier matter to Morgan. He read on. The first contestant\r\nwho correctly identified the other as a facsimile won a point. If\r\nhe failed, the other contestant had the opportunity to make an\r\nidentification. The situation ended when one contestant made a correct\r\nidentification or when both failed. Laying the book down, he decided\r\nhe\'d better get started because it was getting late.\r\n\r\nHe climbed into the harness and hung in mid-air suspended by his belt.\r\nHe activated one of his facsimiles and turned his head so he could see\r\nhimself through the robot\'s eyes. Thumbing his nose, he watched the\r\ncreature hanging in the harness do likewise. It gave him an eerie\r\nfeeling. Even though he knew he was walking in thin air and getting\r\nnowhere, it really seemed as if he could feel the floor under his feet\r\nand see the room move around him in a very ordinary fashion. As soon as\r\nhis facsimile left the room, his mind made the adjustment and it was as\r\nif it were really he strolling nonchalantly down the corridor.\r\n\r\nHe drove to a florist\'s shop and started to purchase a corsage.\r\nAbashed, he caught himself. He rushed out of the shop and went home to\r\nput a wallet and handkerchief into his pockets. He would have to be\r\nmore careful, he realized. Slips like that might cost him the contest.\r\n\r\nWith corsage box in hand, he pressed the door bell and waited. He hoped\r\nhis plastic flesh was moulded perfectly. It looked all right to him,\r\nbut you never could tell what someone else might notice. Myrna opened\r\nthe door.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nShe was lovely and he took her in his arms. Drawing back, he looked at\r\nher dubiously. At least, he thought it was she. His family, her family,\r\nand two or three others, acting as judges and referees in the contest,\r\nstood in the living room watching them. They began to laugh as they saw\r\nhis questioning look. It really was rather funny, he decided. Myrna\r\nled him into the room and introduced him to the few he didn\'t know.\r\n\r\nHe watched her closely as she opened the box. He thought her fingers\r\nwere fumbling a bit. Everyone in the room watched the two of them\r\nintently. They didn\'t know whether the couple were real or robot\r\neither. At any moment, she might suddenly try to identify him. Maybe he\r\nshould take the first chance. She might be fumbling from nervousness,\r\nhe realized. If it were really she and he called her a robot, she might\r\nbe offended. Girls were like that, but of course, he would have to take\r\nthat chance.\r\n\r\n"You\'re a robot," he announced suddenly.\r\n\r\nMyrna looked surprised. "Oh, how did you know?" She was crestfallen.\r\nHe was congratulated as they all trooped upstairs to help Myrna out of\r\nher harness. Later it was nice to know for sure that it was really her\r\nliving flesh in his arms. Then he felt guilty as he realized she was\r\nnot in his living arms. He excused himself hurriedly and returned home.\r\n\r\nThe next evening he was invited to Myrna\'s home for dinner. He thought\r\nof actually going himself because he knew the food would be good. The\r\napparatus could transmit heat, cold, and pressure, but it didn\'t do\r\nmuch when it came to taste and it couldn\'t make any sensation in one\'s\r\ninterior.\r\n\r\nBut he decided it would be too risky. If she identified his facsimile\r\nshe would win a point to be sure, but if she identified his real self,\r\nwell, that would end the contest and he would have to wait a year to\r\nget married.\r\n\r\nHe would have to be careful of the food though. She might try to trick\r\nhim with something that looked good but tasted terrible, and his\r\nfacsimile would eat it just the same.\r\n\r\nThat night before sending his proxy to Myrna\'s dinner party, he had his\r\nfacsimile stick himself with a pin. The sharp pain made him wince. He\r\nwondered about the mechanics of the machine. He supposed that his pain\r\nwas caused by a tiny electrical shock that stimulated a pain nerve. He\r\nrealized that the more he could find out about his equipment the better\r\nhis chances were of winning.\r\n\r\nThat evening Myrna was very watchful and very cool. He wondered if she\r\nsuspected that she had been loved by a robot the evening before. He had\r\nhardly seated himself at the table when she called him a robot. The\r\nfamilies seemed uproariously amused. He wondered how she had known. He\r\ncongratulated her politely and she was allowed to go unidentified since\r\nit was her round.\r\n\r\nWhen his facsimile was brought back to the room, Thad climbed wearily\r\nout of his harness and made himself a cold, uninteresting supper. He\r\nfelt lonely. Was Myrna really sore at him? Damn this whole business! He\r\nwished he didn\'t have to go through all of this.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe next evening he had a plan worked out. He went himself and greeted\r\nher at the door, slammed it shut, and bent towards her to listen. It\r\nwould take a moment for the reverberation to reach her room. If she\r\nwere a robot, the sound would come through the primary microphone\r\nin the sender and he might be able to hear the faint echo from her\r\nlips. He did, and he immediately announced her as a facsimile. Her\r\ncongratulations were hardly more than civil.\r\n\r\nHe left with no great feeling of triumph.\r\n\r\nThe next three evenings, she was very distant. He understood why she\r\ndidn\'t meet him at the door anymore, but he couldn\'t tell why the rest\r\nof her behavior was so cold. She was very lucky, too. She identified\r\nhim correctly as a robot each time before he even had time to greet\r\nthe rest of the family. The day went very slowly. Thad left the office\r\nearly in his uneasiness. Tonight was the seventh and last situation.\r\nHe hoped it also wouldn\'t be their last evening together. At this\r\npoint, he hardly knew what to do. If she won the contest, it would be a\r\nwhole long year before they could marry. He knew that quite often that\r\nspelled the finish to a romance. On the other hand, if he won, it might\r\nestrange them immediately. She had such pride. What to do?\r\n\r\nHe decided to forget the robots and go as his real self again. Points\r\nwere in her favor anyway. He realized that if she were present by\r\nfacsimile, he couldn\'t possibly win. He might as well be the first\r\none to guess and be done with it. It wasn\'t the contest that mattered\r\nanyhow; it was Myrna and what she was feeling.\r\n\r\nWhen he rang the doorbell that evening, the corsage box under his arm\r\ncontained orchids. Unexpectedly, it was Myrna that opened the door.\r\n\r\n"Hello, _real_ Myrna."\r\n\r\nShe hesitated for a moment. "Good evening, Thad. Please come in."\r\n\r\nHe followed her in and greeted the family. She opened the box and for\r\na moment she seemed impressed. Then she regained her composure. He\r\naccepted her formal thanks as the families milled around admiring the\r\ngift. Everyone seemed slightly restrained. Thad finally phrased the\r\nquestion that they were all thinking.\r\n\r\n"Are you real?"\r\n\r\n"Perhaps you could tell if you kissed me," she said with mocking\r\nsweetness.\r\n\r\n"Myrna, I\'m sorry about that first evening, but I forgot that I wasn\'t\r\nreally there." He wished the family wasn\'t there so close. All of them\r\nwatching and listening made him feel an even greater uneasiness. Oh, he\r\nthought, the hell with this contest!\r\n\r\n"Myrna, honey, look, I don\'t care if it\'s really you or not. Well, that\r\nis, I mean--"\r\n\r\nHis voice faded out. He realized he was getting more confused. Someone\r\nsnickered. Myrna was watching him with a contemptuous smile curving her\r\nlips. The whole thing suddenly made him mad.\r\n\r\n"O.K.! I don\'t care who wins the contest! I don\'t care if we do have to\r\nwait a year. I don\'t even care at the moment if there\'s going to be a\r\nwedding or not."\r\n\r\nHe started out of the room dimly aware that he was angrier than he\r\nrealized. Myrna caught him in the vestibule.\r\n\r\n"Thad! Thad! Wait! Please, I know I was being spiteful. You won the\r\ncontest, I\'m really me. Please don\'t go like this. I\'d never forgive\r\nmyself."\r\n\r\nShe looked up at him tearfully. He felt himself relenting finally and\r\nsmiled. She threw her arms around his neck and he drew her close.\r\n\r\nAfter a very long kiss, she looked up at him and said softly, "Thad,\r\nlet\'s be sure the robots are all sent back to the agency before our\r\nhoneymoon."\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOONLIGHT AND ROBOTS ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Mercia, the astronomer royal: A romance'

'Mears, A. Garland'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Mercia, the astronomer royal: A romance\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Mercia, the astronomer royal: A romance\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: A. Garland Mears\r\n\r\nRelease date: December 15, 2022 [eBook #69550]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nOriginal publication: United Kingdom: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co. Ltd, 1895\r\n\r\nCredits: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MERCIA, THE ASTRONOMER ROYAL: A ROMANCE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n MERCIA,\r\n THE ASTRONOMER ROYAL:\r\n =A Romance.=\r\n\r\n\r\n BY\r\n\r\n A. GARLAND MEARS,\r\n\r\n AUTHOR OF\r\n \xe2\x80\x98IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS,\xe2\x80\x99 \xe2\x80\x98THE STORY OF A TRUST,\xe2\x80\x99 \xe2\x80\x98TALES OF OUR\r\n TOWN,\xe2\x80\x99 ETC.\r\n\r\n\r\n LONDON:\r\n SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO. LTD.\r\n 4 STATIONERS\xe2\x80\x99-HALL COURT.\r\n 1895.\r\n\r\n _All rights reserved._\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PRINTED BY\r\n SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE\r\n LONDON\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n MERCIA\r\n\r\n THE ASTRONOMER ROYAL.\r\n\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Whoever knows the origin, the entrance, the locality, and the\r\n five-fold power of life enjoys immortality.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n From THE PRASNA, in _Bibliotheca Indica_.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CONTENTS\r\n\r\n\r\n PROLOGUE.\r\n PART PAGE\r\n I. 1\r\n II. 23\r\n III. 31\r\n\r\n MERCIA, THE ASTRONOMER ROYAL.\r\n CHAPTER PAGE\r\n I. 41\r\n II. 73\r\n III. 85\r\n IV. 103\r\n V. 127\r\n VI. 132\r\n VII. 158\r\n VIII. 186\r\n IX. 230\r\n X. 264\r\n XI. 287\r\n XII. 295\r\n XIII. 341\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PROLOGUE\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PART I\r\n\r\n\r\nThe year of grace, 2002, had arrived and the world had seen many\r\nchanges. The kingdoms of the earth had gone through great experiences.\r\nNations had risen and fallen; the boundaries of Empires had been\r\nmodified; for a serious redistribution of territory had taken place.\r\n\r\nPetty sovereignties had now become merged into greater ones, having\r\nfallen a prey to the strong; for the dominant Powers had divided the\r\nspoil by agreement.\r\n\r\nNevertheless, on the whole, peace and contentment reigned; for advanced\r\nknowledge, not only taught the inutility, gross inhumanity, and waste of\r\nwar, but science had made such wonderful progress in the arts of warfare\r\nthroughout the whole world, that a battle actually meant the complete\r\nannihilation of both sides; thus a victory for either became an\r\nimpossibility.\r\n\r\nAlong with this enforced peace-keeping the wave of civilisation had\r\nspread everywhere carrying its mind-culture, its arts, and handicrafts\r\nto the uttermost parts of the earth; until the world had become a huge\r\nbeehive of active industry, although not necessarily a severe\r\nmuscle-wearing one.\r\n\r\nThrough all the generations dating from the close of the nineteenth\r\ncentury the social question relative to the status of woman had been\r\never uppermost, having been kept to the front by the intense longing of\r\nthe sex for a wider walk of life, a more extended field of action.\r\n\r\nThey demanded a great reformation, a complete recast of social\r\neconomics.\r\n\r\nThe leading features of their programme being a higher education, which\r\nshould be recognised by the Universities, Law, and Medical Corporations,\r\nin order that more honourable, lucrative, and responsible employments\r\nmight be opened to them.\r\n\r\nThey demanded also, political, social, and marital equality between the\r\nsexes; for they averred that women were being cramped and crippled by\r\nold-time conventionalities, the outcome of the customs and prejudices of\r\nmedi\xc3\xa6val ignorance and tyranny, which had invariably relegated their sex\r\nto a lower platform of liberty.\r\n\r\nAs citizens it placed them in the position of minors and lunatics, they\r\naverred, and as wives it gave them but little more authority than what\r\ntheir children possessed from a legal point of view, however talented\r\nand cultivated they might be.\r\n\r\nLoud and bitter were the railings of the dominant sex against the\r\nmovement. Men scoffed and derided \xe2\x80\x98the new woman,\xe2\x80\x99 as they mockingly\r\ntermed her.\r\n\r\nShe became the subject of epigram, pun, and pleasantry generally; the\r\nbutt of every shallow humorist, and dubbed \xe2\x80\x98the new darn on the old\r\nbluestocking,\xe2\x80\x99 whatever that might mean. She was told that her\r\naspirations were bold and offensive in the extreme; that they \xe2\x80\x98unsexed\xe2\x80\x99\r\nher.\r\n\r\nNor was she spared by her own sex. If a lady novelist had the courage to\r\nmake a stand for social purity the critics would pounce upon her,\r\ncondemning her work as \xe2\x80\x98improper.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMostly those following this calling were males; but there were to be\r\nfound feminine monstrosities among writers, who to curry favour with the\r\nmultitude, stooped to the unworthiness of writing down those devoted\r\nchampions of liberty for their own sex.\r\n\r\nIt was a long battle and a hard, this struggle for equality. Man\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndominance and woman\xe2\x80\x99s subjugation had not been a healthy influence\r\nthroughout the ages, for either sex.\r\n\r\nSociety taught, and the laws of the realm favoured the theory, that the\r\ncode of morality for the man was widely different to that which should\r\nguide the woman.\r\n\r\nBut the new woman saw whence this incongruity sprang, and showed that it\r\nhad its birth and continued existence in the coarser instincts of the\r\nmale, whose desires it tended to foster and encourage.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Truly,\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed, \xe2\x80\x98the arrogance and selfishness of man is not\r\ndifficult to discover, although veiled by the hypocritical excuse of\r\nkeeping intact the sweet delicacy and spirituality of woman. Men demand\r\nthat we should continue to repose a child-like confidence in their\r\ngoodness; well, we shall be only too ready to grant it as soon as we are\r\nassured that they have made themselves worthy of our trust.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nEducation and experience had now opened her eyes: impelled by necessity\r\nshe shook off the bonds that had bound her so long and utilised the\r\ntalents that had for ages lain dormant, turning them into worthier and\r\nmore useful channels.\r\n\r\nHow their first steps in the ways of liberty were derided! Nevertheless,\r\nthere came forward high-souled men who held out a helping hand to these\r\nstruggling children, who were laboriously and anxiously stretching and\r\nstraining to reach the longed-for goal.\r\n\r\nThe crowning joy came at last. Slowly, and by almost imperceptible\r\ndegrees, she won one concession, and then another, until by the time the\r\nsecond millenary was reached her great ambition was attained.\r\n\r\nLike all wise reforms it benefited equally its adversaries as\r\nsupporters; and man, who at the outset bitterly opposed the movement,\r\nreaped the advantage derived therefrom, to his own comfort and content.\r\n\r\nWoman\xe2\x80\x99s position was now assured, and she took her place alongside man\r\non equal terms. If a post of honour, or high emolument were vacant, sex\r\nwas not taken into consideration in the choice of a candidate, for the\r\nperson best suited for the position was selected according to his or her\r\nproved ability, or past experience.\r\n\r\nIt frequently happened that a young fellow earning but 100_l._ a year\r\nwould woo successfully a young lady filling a position of importance\r\nthat yielded her 500_l._ per annum. For it might chance that she had\r\nenjoyed the advantage over him of a superior training, or inherited\r\nabler ability for that particular employment; and these combined with\r\nperhaps, superior family influence exerted on her behalf had given her\r\nthe better start.\r\n\r\nIn such a case as this, with their united incomes, the young couple were\r\nin a position to set up housekeeping in a fairly respectable style; the\r\nbridegroom\xe2\x80\x99s good luck might be envied by his companions, but no one\r\nthought the worse of either.\r\n\r\nMoreover it worked beneficially for the male in other ways. If accident,\r\nor sickness deprived a man of the capability of following his\r\nemployment, he and his family, were not reduced to want, for the wife\r\nbecame the bread-winner, leaving him in charge of the housekeeping.\r\n\r\nThis arrangement was considered no hardship by the wife; for she was\r\nrelieved of domestic cares, and control of domestic servants, which, as\r\na rule, the husband discharged with great success. It was frequently\r\nfound that a master obtained readier obedience and more faithful service\r\nthan a mistress. Whether this was owing to his requirements being less\r\nexacting than those of a mistress, or to that indefinable influence\r\nwhich one sex holds over the other, cannot be determined; doubtless it\r\nwas a combination of the two that gave the man greater empire over the\r\nwoman-servant.\r\n\r\nIt is not to be supposed that a domestic servant occupied the humble\r\nposition she held in previous times; for a well-appointed household\r\nrequiring at least four servants, in the nineteenth century would at\r\nthis period need but one. The vast amount of mechanical contrivances\r\nworked by electricity minimised labour to such an extent that it raised\r\nthe position of a domestic servant to that of a working electrician of\r\nthe nineteenth century; which period saw the birth of the practical use\r\nof electric energy. In fact, a thoroughly good domestic servant who knew\r\nher work, that is to say, a woman who understood, and successfully\r\nconducted the various machines, keeping them in working order, could\r\nreadily command her two pounds a week, and run a home, husband, and\r\nchildren on her own account.\r\n\r\nThe social economy of this time was entirely different to that of any\r\nprevious period. Marriage in no way incapacitated a woman-servant from\r\nkeeping her situation. Indeed, it had a contrary effect; most people\r\npreferring a steady-going married woman with responsibilities, to a\r\nflirty inexperienced maiden who might use her position in the household\r\nto wile away a heedless son, or a somewhat lonesome husband. As a rule,\r\nhowever, such an occurrence happened rarely; the marriage state was\r\nmostly a very happy one, and faithfully kept on both sides, for a high\r\nstandard of morality ruled supreme.\r\n\r\nOther factors supported this beneficent condition; for all being equal\r\nas breadwinners, and the number of the sexes equally balanced, a man\r\ndeemed himself fortunate when he secured a good wife and did his utmost\r\nto please her.\r\n\r\nOn her side affection alone prompted her to marry; the unworthy motive\r\nof making marriage the means of obtaining a home of her own, no longer\r\nexisted, as every parent trained his daughter equally as his son to hold\r\na position of independence, by giving her a trade, or profession to\r\nfollow.\r\n\r\nBoth humble and high-born possessed more or less practical knowledge of\r\nphysiology; especially those branches dealing directly with health, and\r\nthe functions of reproduction, which enabled women to fill more\r\nintelligently the positions of wife and mother.\r\n\r\nIt was appointed by Government that all persons should be taught the\r\nmore important branches of this science in the public schools, as soon\r\nas they reached the age of twelve years together with the principles of\r\nsocial economy. It was considered a gross immorality on the part of\r\nparents to bring into existence a large family of children, whom they\r\ncould not possibly rear with comfort to themselves, or with any degree\r\nof justice to their offspring.\r\n\r\nBut over and above the personal inconvenience of poor people being\r\noverburdened with children, the disadvantage of giving birth to large\r\nfamilies was recognised by all from an economic point of view: for the\r\nworld was becoming so thickly populated that it appeared obvious a\r\ndifficulty would arise in providing foodstuffs for so many millions of\r\nhuman beings, notwithstanding the very material assistance the science\r\nof chemistry afforded in feeding the multitude.\r\n\r\nAll persons, therefore recognised the necessity of supporting\r\nlegislative authority on this point, for being an intellectual people\r\nthey saw it worked to their advantage from every point of view.\r\n\r\nInordinate reproduction interfered with a wife\xe2\x80\x99s ability to supplement\r\nher husband\xe2\x80\x99s income by following her own profession, and thereby making\r\na very narrow income into an easy one.\r\n\r\nIn bygone days if the mistress of a public school entered the marriage\r\nstate she entered the schoolroom no more; custom decreed that with\r\nmarriage all bread winning ceased on her side, and her husband\xe2\x80\x99s small\r\nincome must suffice.\r\n\r\nOf course the _raison d\xe2\x80\x99\xc3\xaatre_ of this custom was not far to seek, for\r\nher child-bearing duties, to which no limit was placed, would\r\nconsiderably interfere with those of her situation.\r\n\r\nBut at this advanced period public opinion decreed that such a course\r\nwas the outcome of brute ignorance; for physiological and psychological\r\nscience taught that the position of parent was the most responsible in\r\nall creation, and to bring any number of children into the world until\r\nNature refused to do more, was a condition of life in its wildest state;\r\nfor man in every other form of life controls the exuberance of Nature,\r\nfor wise purposes.\r\n\r\nAs soon as a wife decided on becoming a mother,\xe2\x80\x94and most women looked\r\nforward to that position with keen interest, for the love of children is\r\never paramount in the female breast,\xe2\x80\x94she would brace herself to the\r\nfulfilment of the duties of this great responsibility.\r\n\r\nShe realised that on herself alone rested, not only the building up of\r\nthe physical frame of her unborn child, but also the formation of the\r\npre-natal mind, with all its mental and moral capacities.\r\n\r\nShe knew that every thought, impulse, and action of hers would leave\r\ntheir impress upon the brain of her child; for a stimulus would be given\r\nto the development of the faculties in those directions, according to\r\nthe degree in which she exercised her own.\r\n\r\nIn order, therefore to ensure herself the possession of a child perfect\r\nin physique, and intellect; and endowed with such faculties of mind as\r\nformed her beau ideal of a beautiful character, she underwent a course\r\nof self-denial and watchfulness throughout the whole period of\r\npregnancy.\r\n\r\nDuring this important period, the greatest in her life, she took heed\r\nthat no emotion, thought, or action was indulged in on her part that she\r\nwould object to seeing reproduced in her child, however modified these\r\nmight be by the new individuality.\r\n\r\nTo ensure this she followed a system of wholesome and healthy\r\nemployment, which served the two-fold purpose of keeping her mind pure,\r\nand her muscle-power in practice. By experience it was found that the\r\nmost beautiful characters had been given to the world by parents noted\r\nfor their industry, morality and unselfishness.\r\n\r\nThen there were the intellectual powers of the child\xe2\x80\x99s mind to consider,\r\nfor it was not left to chance the arrangement of his talents, or\r\ncapabilities for a profession.\r\n\r\nExpectant parents took time by the forelock, for instead of waiting for\r\nthe period when their son\xe2\x80\x99s schooling would be completed for the choice\r\nof a profession, they carefully considered the question long before he\r\nput in an appearance, and made their plans regarding his future with\r\ntwentieth-century forethought.\r\n\r\nIf it so happened that the ambition of a couple was to see their son a\r\nprofessor of music then the mother-that-was-to-be took her _r\xc3\xb4le_\r\naccordingly.\r\n\r\nDuring this interesting time she would devote herself almost exclusively\r\nto the pursuit of music; daily practising on the instruments she wished\r\nhim to excel in; studying the theory of music, attending high-class\r\nmusical entertainments; encouraging lovers of music at her house, and in\r\nfact, neglecting nothing that lay in her power to foster and encourage\r\nthe growth of that group of faculties, whose possession makes the\r\nperfect musician.\r\n\r\nIndeed, the friends of a lady _enceinte_ would suspect her condition,\r\nnot from seeing her lying about on the couch, or other indolent\r\nindulgences, but from her increased activities in a regular and definite\r\ndirection.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It\xe2\x80\x99s easy to see,\xe2\x80\x99 a neighbour would remark in fireside parlance, \xe2\x80\x98that\r\nMistress Woodward is expecting a son; evidently they are going to make\r\nhim a civil engineer. Mark, how she is slaving over mathematics and\r\nreading up every work on engineering she can lay her hands on. Why, her\r\nboudoir is filled with mechanical drawings: you would think she was\r\nabout building all the suspension bridges, and electrometers in the\r\nEmpire. It is a son, you may be sure; she would hardly put a daughter to\r\nsuch a profession, seeing that when one comes she will be an heiress.\r\nYes, the grandmother left all her property to the grand-daughter, _when\r\nshe arrives_. I suppose they will have one; it goes without saying that\r\nthey will, _under the circumstances_.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nOr this might be the gossip.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It\xe2\x80\x99s coming off at last! They\xe2\x80\x99re going to give themselves a baby\xe2\x80\x94poor\r\nthings! \xe2\x80\x99Twas a silly love match, thou remembers, and their united\r\nincomes were as nothing compared with their ideas, brought up as they\r\nwere in every luxury. However, the wife got a good appointment last\r\nOctober owing to the influence of her friends; result\xe2\x80\x94she is going to\r\nhave a baby\xe2\x80\x94a girl, I am told. It is plain enough to see what trade the\r\nchild is to follow, for the expectant mother is now running a laboratory\r\nand slaves in it nightly, besides attending the Government lectures on\r\nchemistry held weekly in the large hall of the Science Schools. Well, it\r\nis a useful profession, and will do equally well for a boy; it\xe2\x80\x99s just\r\npossible they may have made a mistake and the baby will prove to be a\r\nboy after all. I never thought either of them over intelligent\xe2\x80\x94they are\r\nsure to blunder\xe2\x80\x94but what matters it? They can have a girl next time. Of\r\ncourse they will treat themselves to two children\xe2\x80\x94they can now afford\r\nit.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nStill another sample of twentieth-century table talk.\r\n\r\n_Mr. Brown._ \xe2\x80\x98Hast thou seen Smithers lately? It is a long time since I\r\nset eyes on him; what is he doing?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. White._ \xe2\x80\x98Oh, all his spare time is taken up showing Mistress\r\nSmithers how to manufacture flying machines. He takes her into his\r\nworkshop daily, explaining the uses of this, that and the other. She has\r\na lathe of her own, run by electricity, and she makes the parts and fits\r\nthem together. Of course as soon as the baby is born she will drop it,\r\nfor Smithers is well off now; capital business that flying machine one,\r\nespecially with that new patent of his\xe2\x80\x94it almost goes like the wind, and\r\na lot steadier.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. Brown._ \xe2\x80\x98Bless my life! why she went through all that fag four\r\nyears ago, I remember very well I could never get a minute with him. As\r\nsoon as ever his workmen were gone, in went the wife for her lessons,\r\nand mighty quick she was too, in taking it all in. Are they going to\r\nhave _two_ sons?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. White._ \xe2\x80\x98Not if they know it! They made a mistake last time; it\r\nappears \xe2\x80\x99twas an order for a daughter that went, while they thought it\r\nwas for a son, so Mistress Smithers has to go through all her exercises\r\n_de novo_; it is to be hoped they have made no blunder _this_ time, for\r\nit is no joke after all, for the poor woman.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. Brown._ \xe2\x80\x98The boy should be a genius when he comes, seeing that\r\n_both_ parents are adepts in the business. Occasionally we have freaks\r\nof nature,\xe2\x80\x94now, haven\xe2\x80\x99t we? Rememberest thou those Percys, they were\r\ngoing to have a _poet_, forsooth! but, ha, ha, ha, he turned out a\r\nsimpleton!! He now takes the pence for the man who lends out his flying\r\nmachine to boys. So much for manufacturing poets beforehand.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. White._ \xe2\x80\x98It was a maxim of the ancients that poets must be born not\r\nmade, and it still holds good in these days of light: for a great poet\r\nonly comes once in an epoch. He is an intellectual giant, as it were,\r\nand the conditions under which he is formed are not yet fathomed. It is\r\ncomparatively easy for a woman to take up any ordinary employment with a\r\nview of giving a certain bias to the child\xe2\x80\x99s faculties, but how in the\r\nname of goodness can a person all at once simulate the poet, and expect\r\nher child to come into the world a ready-made bard\xe2\x80\x94why it is\r\npreposterous!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. Brown._ \xe2\x80\x98We cannot limit the possibilities of the future: only a\r\nhundred years ago the possibility of arranging the sex of a child was\r\nlaughed at as a simple absurdity. Now we arrange not only the number of\r\nour children but their sex also; and very properly too, for we can do\r\ngreater justice to our progeny when we know what we are about, than if\r\nthey came by blind chance, merely.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. White._ \xe2\x80\x98We are twenty-first century people, now\xe2\x80\x94let us remember\r\nthat fact, two thousand and two! Yea, verily, the world is growing very\r\nold and that blessed millennium hasn\xe2\x80\x99t come yet!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_Mr. Brown._ \xe2\x80\x98_This_ is the millennium. We shall get no better. Is not\r\nthe prophecy fulfilled of the ancient poets\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x9cThe wolf and the lamb shall\r\nlie down together?\xe2\x80\x9d Where is war? It has ceased to exist. Civilisation\r\nand science have worked out the miracle, and given to war its quietus.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIt is necessary to explain that by this time such a perfect knowledge of\r\nphysiology was attained that the sex of the desired offspring could be\r\nregulated by parents. As soon as the discovery was made, and fully and\r\ncompletely tested, it was not locked up as a professional secret, but\r\nwas given to the people by order of the Government in a handbook of\r\nhealth that was issued yearly at a nominal cost, which contained\r\nup-to-date information on hygiene, or general management of Health, and\r\nHome. By this means at least two-thirds of the children born were males,\r\nwhich kept the balance fairly even of the sexes. For notwithstanding the\r\nfact that Nature had at all times given the predominance of number to\r\nthe masculine sex, yet owing to the numerous accidents that befell men\r\nwhile in the pursuit of their calling; and also to the severer strain on\r\ntheir constitution as the breadwinners, the mortality was consequently\r\ngreater. From these causes mainly the nations found themselves mostly,\r\nwith a redundance of adult females.\r\n\r\nBut a complete metamorphosis had now set in, for the people had eagerly\r\ntaken advantage of the information afforded them, availing themselves of\r\nit to such an extent that the succeeding generation of males found\r\nthemselves with a very inadequate supply of wives.\r\n\r\nThis awkward dilemma was, however, remedied in course of time, and\r\neventually a fairly even number of the sexes was obtained.\r\n\r\nBut there was still another factor that assisted in maintaining the\r\nbalance\xe2\x80\x94the opening of trades and professions to women, which custom had\r\nkept so long closed against them, causing parents to hesitate in sending\r\ntheir daughters to learn trades and professions. \xe2\x80\x98Better have no\r\ndaughters at all,\xe2\x80\x99 thought many susceptible ones, \xe2\x80\x98if they must toil for\r\ntheir living like men.\xe2\x80\x99 But time works wonders: the day came when a\r\ndaughter brought as much honour and credit to her family as ever a son\r\ncould possibly have achieved.\r\n\r\nWhat men in the first instance regarded as an invasion of their rights,\r\nproved in the end an inestimable blessing. A wife ceased to be a kind of\r\nencumbrance upon a struggling man, and became a helpmate in a very\r\nsubstantial sense; for marriage no longer incapacitating a woman from\r\ncontinuing her employment, the income of a couple was doubled: by this\r\nmeans the two were enabled to live in greater comfort and with less\r\nstrain and worry to the husband. Thus the longevity of the male was\r\nincreased by the more equal distribution of labour between the sexes,\r\nfor the wear and tear to the nervous system in the battle of life being\r\nreduced, had its share in prolonging masculine life and sustaining an\r\nequality of number of the sexes.\r\n\r\nAs every person loved his profession, or trade, \xe2\x80\x98being born to it,\xe2\x80\x99 in a\r\nmost literal sense, his enthusiasm and interest in it never slackened,\r\nconsequently, no woman deemed it a hardship to follow the calling her\r\nparents had designed for her, even when marriage made it no longer a\r\nnecessity. When the duties of her situation were discharged each day,\r\nsupposing she filled one, for few women ever thought of throwing up a\r\ngood post on account of getting married\xe2\x80\x94she would return to her home,\r\nwhose appointments denoted the presence of the greatest refinement and\r\ncomfort, and finish the day, for the hours of labour were short, in the\r\nsociety of her husband and children, varied by the enjoyment of social\r\npleasures, or intellectual pursuits.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PART II\r\n\r\n\r\nFor over a hundred years woman had been gradually developing in strength\r\nand stature, and had by this time attained as great a height as man\r\nformerly possessed. \xe2\x80\x98Woman\xe2\x80\x99s weakness\xe2\x80\x99 was an unknown term, except from\r\nancient literature, for owing to the various athletic exercises which\r\nfor generations had been the universal custom for girls and women to\r\nengage in, and also to the increased physical strength attained by\r\nabstemiousness from much child-bearing, they had almost overtaken the\r\nmales in vigour, and endurance. Courage being the accompaniment of\r\nbodily strength the myth of a woman running away from a mouse was\r\nregarded as a silly invention of their ancestors for the purpose of\r\npleasantry, or a playful manner of showing up the difference of the\r\norganisation of the sexes. But there were cynics to be found who averred\r\nthat the comic papers of the nineteenth century in their skits on\r\nsociety gave as true a reflection of its condition, from one point of\r\nview, as the most veracious and trustworthy historian could have\r\nafforded.\r\n\r\nIt appeared, indeed, utterly absurd to the twentieth-century mind, when\r\nthey turned over the leaves of some ancient copy of _Punch_ to see the\r\njoke portraying the bald-headed pater looking aghast when the monthly\r\nnurse presents him with the twelfth consignment, which are twins!\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why the man ought to be dandling his grand-children at his time of\r\nlife, he is actually bald, and babies coming still!\xe2\x80\x99 the reader of those\r\nancient cynicisms would exclaim.\r\n\r\nThey could not understand the imprudence of parents bringing children\r\ninto the world for almost the whole of their natural lives. Leaving\r\nthemselves without leisure or ease to enjoy the fruits of their industry\r\nin middle age, while yet youthful enough to appreciate the pleasures of\r\nlife.\r\n\r\nThe nursery story\xe2\x80\x94most artistically illustrated, of course,\xe2\x80\x94descriptive\r\nof the condition of their ancestors formed a curious revelation to\r\ntwentieth-century children.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This is the man who toiled all day to fill the mouths of seven hungry\r\nchildren that didn\xe2\x80\x99t get enough.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This is the woman all worn with care, who was wife to the man that\r\ntoiled all day, to fill the mouths of seven hungry children that didn\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nget enough.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This is the strap the woman used, all worn with care, who was wife to\r\nthe man that toiled all day to fill the mouths of seven hungry children\r\nthat didn\xe2\x80\x99t get enough.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This is the pup that eat up the strap the woman used, all worn with\r\ncare, who was wife to the man that toiled all day to fill the mouths of\r\nseven hungry children that didn\xe2\x80\x99t get enough.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This is the cat that clawed the pup, that eat up the strap, the woman\r\nused, all worn with care, who was wife to the man that toiled all day to\r\nfill the mouths of seven hungry children that didn\xe2\x80\x99t get enough.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This is the tank that drowned the cat, that clawed the pup, that eat up\r\nthe strap the woman used, all worn with care, who was wife to the man\r\nthat toiled all day to fill the mouths of seven hungry children that\r\ndidn\xe2\x80\x99t get enough.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThis melancholy record of the fortunes of the nineteenth-century\r\nrepresentative peasant, was doubtless a variation of the legend of the\r\nold woman that lived in a shoe. Nevertheless it amused the little tots\r\nof twenty-first century time. For the extraordinary picture of seven\r\nlittle children inhabiting one poor little cottage appeared utterly\r\nabsurd to their advanced minds, which could scarcely comprehend the\r\nfolly of a poor man possessing more mouths to fill than was possible.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What did he want with all those?\xe2\x80\x99 they innocently inquired.\r\n\r\nBut their nurse could only reply\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98She didn\xe2\x80\x99t quite know: it was a way\r\nthey had in nineteenth-century times.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe laws of health were so strictly taught in all schools that no\r\nindividual could possibly grow up ignorant on those points; and every\r\nman, mostly, knew how to take charge of his own body.\r\n\r\nNevertheless professors of medicine still flourished on the face of the\r\nearth; but the masculine sex had for generations past lost the monopoly\r\nof the profession.\r\n\r\nAs a rule, however, the lady doctor was in no greater demand than her\r\nmale rival, men still holding their own to some extent; for the world\r\nwill ever see those women who prefer men to dance attendance on them.\r\n\r\nThe profession was, indeed, pretty equally divided between the sexes;\r\nmost mothers preferring females to prescribe for their children in times\r\nof dangerous sickness, believing that they were more successful in their\r\ntreatment of the troubles of childhood. Besides, it followed as a\r\nnatural consequence that as the lady accoucheur brought the child into\r\nthe world, which was the invariable custom, it was only fair that she\r\nshould have the medical care of the little one afterwards.\r\n\r\nThe serious infant mortality which prevailed among the lower orders up\r\nto the close of the nineteenth century, was now so reduced, that\r\nparents, as a rule, succeeded in rearing their families intact.\r\n\r\nGreater enlightenment in the methods of their upbringing, together with\r\nsuperior sanitary arrangements of the domicile, no doubt tended largely\r\ntowards effecting this change.\r\n\r\nSmall families being the rule, instead of the exception, it must be\r\nadmitted that with a lesser number to provide for, greater care and\r\ncomfort could be bestowed upon their offspring; so that the reduction of\r\nthe birthrate had the effect of reducing the death-rate; this fact\r\ncombined with increased longevity of the adult, quite doubled the\r\naverage of human life.\r\n\r\nThe difference in dress between men and women was not great; the sexes\r\nwere mostly distinguishable by the method of dressing their hair.\r\n\r\nMen had ceased cutting their hair closely, for it was found that this\r\npractice materially injured its growth, and finally ended in making all\r\nthe males bald before they were twenty years of age.\r\n\r\nSpecialists averred that the cause of the trouble arose from two\r\nsources. By constantly cropping the hair an unnatural stimulus was\r\nimparted to its growth, which quickly impoverished the hair follicles,\r\nand so brought about their early decay. Also, the scalp being unduly\r\ndeprived of its natural covering of long hair was left an easy prey to\r\nevery germ, or fungus that chose to make its home there. For these\r\nreasons men decided to wear their hair long, and usually kept it from\r\nsix to twelve inches in length, in curls about their neck, which had the\r\neffect of giving them a very romantic appearance.\r\n\r\nWomen allowed their hair its full natural length, arranging it in coils\r\nand plaits, pretty much in the manner of the ancients.\r\n\r\nAt this time there were persons with fads who affected high art in\r\ngastronomical matters; preferring to patronise the food-chemist rather\r\nthan the butcher and baker. Chemical foodstuffs for the supply of the\r\nwaste of the various tissues of the body were arranged in pills and\r\ntabloids, the quantity allowed for a meal being printed on the label.\r\n\r\nThis practice however, failed to meet with anything approaching popular\r\nfavour, for mankind still loved too well the pleasures of the table to\r\ngive up a good dinner for a pill. For who would prefer a nitrogenous\r\ntabloid to the delicacies of the banquet, which form the necessary\r\nconcomitants of the soul-inspiring nectars usually quaffed by the\r\nappreciative Teuton on every available occasion?\r\n\r\nIndeed, to him the loss of the sensations of that comfort and\r\nsatisfaction which follow a good meal was tantamount to bidding adieu to\r\nthe most substantial pleasure of life.\r\n\r\nBesides, their internal arrangements had something to say in the matter;\r\nand their utter collapse for want of some substance to keep them in\r\nposition proved a warning to the daring experimenter.\r\n\r\nNotwithstanding all the arguments of advanced scientists, the\r\nfood-chemists failed in disestablishing the old-fashioned system of\r\neating and drinking.\r\n\r\nMoreover there were physiologists who declared that it was an\r\nimpossibility as man is constituted, to sustain life by means of\r\nelemental substances being introduced into the system unless a complete\r\nreconstruction of the organisation could be effected.\r\n\r\nFor the various organs that acted together, forming a laboratory for the\r\nchange of foodstuffs into vital force, having no occupation must\r\nnecessarily languish, and get out of gear through sheer inanition.\r\n\r\nThus the revolution in animal economy was perforce left over for the\r\npeople of a more advanced period to deal with.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PART III\r\n\r\n\r\nThe nineteenth century saw the development of natural science to such a\r\ngigantic extent that the people could only exclaim\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98It is like reading a\r\nfairy tale of double-distilled enchantment; Aladdin\xe2\x80\x99s lamp is as nothing\r\ncompared with it!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nGreat as was the civilisation of the ancients their genius had never\r\nattained to such heights as were reached by the scientists of that\r\nepoch.\r\n\r\nElectricity was impounded into the service of man, and put to every\r\npossible purpose.\r\n\r\nExperiment and research continued to be the order of the day; and the\r\ngreat glow of enthusiasm that fired the votaries of science never abated\r\nuntil all that was possible to be learnt concerning the adaptations of\r\nelectric energy were known far and wide. Before the dawn of the\r\ntwentieth century every country on the face of the earth was bound\r\ntogether by a network of electrical energy.\r\n\r\nScientific knowledge had therefore made such vast progress all over the\r\nworld, and the uses to which electric force could be applied had become\r\nso widely known that nations found they must settle their differences by\r\nsome method other than warfare.\r\n\r\nBy the use of electric lightning, as it was named, to distinguish it\r\nfrom cloud lightning, whole armies could be annihilated by a couple of\r\nelectricians. And as skilful workmen of this class were in full force in\r\nevery country, and at the word of command were ready to apply this\r\ndeadly instrument of destruction with instantaneous effect, the powers\r\nof warfare were pretty equally balanced.\r\n\r\nIn course of time, on this account, standing armies were abolished, for\r\nobviously, they were absolutely useless for the defence of a nation, and\r\nin their stead a supreme Court of Justice was set up, entitled THE\r\nWORLD\xe2\x80\x99S TRIBUNAL.\r\n\r\nThis was composed of delegates, or representatives from every nation,\r\neach being entitled to send two persons who were usually chosen from the\r\nministry.\r\n\r\nIt is needless to explain that such a position of responsibility was\r\ngiven only to men of excellent wisdom and proved ability, who had\r\nalready won the confidence of their country. As a rule, the decisions of\r\nthis unique Court were abided by, but if a judgment gave general\r\ndissatisfaction, then a return to an extremely primitive method of\r\nwarfare was permitted, under certain modified conditions.\r\n\r\nA company of picked men, famous in athletic exercises were selected by\r\nthe countries in dispute and pitted against each other, armed with\r\nelectrically-charged lances, very short, and silvered over to give them\r\na more imposing appearance.\r\n\r\nThe object of each combatant was not to take life, or give serious\r\ninjury to his adversary, but simply to temporarily paralyse his right\r\narm, the combat being conducted according to certain stringent\r\nregulations and conditions.\r\n\r\nAt one time females offered themselves for the trial, and gave good\r\nproof of their prowess and ability; but this ambition did not obtain for\r\nlong, and their desire of emulation in merely muscular exercises grew\r\ninto disfavour; for woman considered it incumbent upon her to keep in\r\nadvance of man in intellectual and philanthropical pursuits.\r\n\r\nSocial history had taught her that man must possess an ideal for his\r\nguidance, and where was that to be found if not in woman? It was her\r\ninfluence, and her example which had advanced him to his present high\r\nmorality, his present plane of purity.\r\n\r\nSometimes several generations would pass away before an occasion arose\r\nfor the GREAT TEST TOURNAMENT to take place, so that when an engagement\r\nof this kind came off, it formed, in truth, a world\xe2\x80\x99s f\xc3\xaate. Kings and\r\ncommoners flocked from all parts to witness this unusual spectacle: for\r\nthe old love of combativeness was still dominant in the human mind,\r\nalthough mainly kept under excellent restraint.\r\n\r\nThe opportunity therefore, of seeing such an important contest, the\r\nresult of which bore such serious issues, was eagerly sought by all\r\nclasses, in every country. Indeed, it was patronised to such an extent\r\nthat it was found necessary to restrict the number of sightseers to one\r\nmillion. For it was found most inconvenient to entertain and provide\r\naccommodation for more, there being no room for such a heavy addition to\r\ntheir numbers in the already well-filled city. All cities were pretty\r\nnearly alike, in this respect, the world being very thickly populated.\r\n\r\nTHE GREAT TEST TOURNAMENT formed, in truth, a grand and imposing\r\nspectacle. What an exciting scene would then present itself!\r\n\r\nFlying machines impelled by electric energy darkened the air. Sumptuous\r\ncarriages set in motion by the same force, and filled with gaily\r\ncostumed men and women eager to witness the scene, whirled along the\r\nroads formed of cement as smooth as glass, and hard as adamant.\r\n\r\nHorsemen elegantly attired, cantered briskly along the side road, which\r\nwas devoted specially to their use, for that designed for general\r\npurposes was too smooth for the equestrian.\r\n\r\nHorses, indeed, were trotted out more for display than absolute use, by\r\nthe wealthy, for the means of locomotion was accessible to all.\r\n\r\nThe poorest person, almost, could conveniently run his own electric car;\r\nfor the expense of construction was light, and by a simple process of\r\nthe conservation of energy the supply of electric force was sustained at\r\na small cost.\r\n\r\nBy this time the concentration and conservation of solar energy was in\r\ngeneral practice; usually large manufactories favoured its use, for the\r\nstorage of the sun\xe2\x80\x99s rays had become practicable and was superseding\r\nelectricity to some extent. The ocean was no impediment to personal\r\nlocomotion, for seas were skimmed over by means of electrical flying\r\nmachines; while ships impelled by the same force were used chiefly for\r\nthe transport of cargo.\r\n\r\nNevertheless, there was still a large percentage of persons who\r\npreferred riding the wave on an electric, or solar energy impelled\r\nvessel, to floating through the air in a flying machine, for nerves were\r\nnot yet out of fashion.\r\n\r\nNotwithstanding all the dreams of nineteenth-century political reformers\r\nEngland had still retained its old institutions, for the Empire\r\ncontinued to be ruled by a monarchical form of government diluted\r\nsomewhat with the constitutional. So far from being a great Republic by\r\nthis time the tendency went the other way, for new conditions sprang up\r\nwhich gave the Sovereign a degree of absolutism which the fondest hopes\r\nof the Royalist could never have conjured up. By reason of marriages and\r\nintermarriages between the Royal Houses of Great Britain and Germany the\r\ntwo families became so intermixed that in consequence of the sudden\r\ndeath of the heir-apparent to the German crown, followed immediately by\r\nthe death of the Emperor, the Sovereign of England woke up one morning\r\nto find himself the direct successor to the throne of the Fatherland.\r\n\r\nIt happened in this way. A great war broke out between Germany and\r\nFrance in the year 1930, and in the midst of a fierce contest, where the\r\ngreat field pieces were charged with missiles which emitted volleys of\r\nelectric lightning into the German ranks, a French electrician sent an\r\nelectric bolt at the Emperor and his son, killing the younger royal\r\nwarrior instantly, and severely injuring the elder. The following day\r\nthe Emperor succumbed to his injuries, to the intense grief of all his\r\nsubjects.\r\n\r\nThis _coup_ failed to give the French nation the victory, but it gave\r\nthe German crown to the Sovereign of England, who was the only\r\nsuccessor. This was the last battle Europe ever saw; public opinion\r\ndecreed that such cruel slaughter should be discontinued for all time.\r\nAs a matter of course there was much opposition at the outset to the\r\nSovereign of another country swaying the sceptre of their beloved\r\nfatherland, albeit he was in reality more German than English.\r\n\r\nLong speeches were made in the Reichstag, and ancient laws raked up to\r\nshow its utter unconstitutional character. But when it was pointed out\r\nby their favourite minister, an old man full of wisdom and experience,\r\nwhat a splendid gain it would prove to their country in having such a\r\npowerful nation as the English merged into theirs; for united the two\r\ncould defy the world independently of any alliance with other great\r\nPowers. To this unanswerable argument the opposition succumbed, and\r\ngracefully gave way to the inevitable.\r\n\r\nThe two countries set apart a whole week for national rejoicings at this\r\nglorious union of two great nations in a manner unparalleled in all\r\nhistory. It was poetically entitled the marriage of the beautiful\r\nSea-Girt Isle with the strong and Ever-Enduring Fatherland. This\r\neuphemism took away the bitterness of the pill that most of the Germans\r\nwere mouthing, for they were not altogether satisfied at seeing their\r\ncountry come under the dominance of another Power, albeit the ties of\r\nconsanguinity and policy bound both together. But the strongest factor\r\nin producing satisfaction was the intense pleasure they felt in arousing\r\nthe ire and deep indignation of the French nation, who saw at a glance\r\nher utter incapacity to cope with a rival whose dominions would now all\r\nbut encircle her, and whose power and possessions extended to every part\r\nof the globe.\r\n\r\nThus it came to pass that Albert Felicitas, King of Great Britain and\r\nIreland, and Emperor of India and Africa, was crowned Emperor of\r\nGermany, which now held the small sovereignties of Denmark and Sweden.\r\n\r\nHenceforward this great portion of European territory was named THE\r\nTEUTONIC EMPIRE, which comprising the Germanic and British Empires\r\nunited the scattered Teutons into one solid body.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n MERCIA, THE ASTRONOMER ROYAL,\r\n A ROMANCE.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER I\r\n\r\n\r\nLong before this period the women of England had become celebrated for\r\ntheir mental attainments, splendid physique, and exceeding beauty; but\r\nchiefest of all was the lovely and accomplished Mercia.\r\n\r\nOwing to her superior attainments in natural science, but especially\r\nthat branch dealing with astronomy she was appointed the position of\r\nAstronomer Royal to the Emperor, Albert Felicitas, Supreme Ruler of the\r\nTeutonic Empire.\r\n\r\nMercia was acknowledged by all to be as beautiful as she was talented;\r\nand the fame of her learning and genius was known throughout the Empire.\r\n\r\nShe was now thirty years of age, being still in the first bloom of\r\nwomanhood; for woman was not fully developed until she attained the age\r\nof twenty-five, as the term of human life was augmented.\r\n\r\nMan commonly reached his anticipated century of years; and it was no\r\nextraordinary occurrence to see a hoary-haired veteran of one hundred\r\nand twenty-five years surrounded by five or six generations of\r\ndescendants who had assembled to do him honour on his birthday.\r\n\r\nIn former times Mercia would have been considered too tall for the ideal\r\nof womanly beauty, for she was five feet, ten inches, in height. Indeed,\r\nmany women attained six feet in these days, but as they were perfectly\r\nproportioned, and graceful in movement, their great height gave no idea\r\nof awkwardness. Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s form was perfectly moulded, her limbs reminding\r\nthe beholder of some chaste sculpture of the ancient Greeks, for her\r\nflowing robes partially disclosed their contour. Beneath the\r\nclose-fitting sleeves of her tunic might be seen the fully developed\r\nmuscles of her arms, which were exquisitely shaped; the firm wrist was\r\nsmall and round, the fore arm tapering upwards until the well-developed\r\nmuscle of the upper arm was reached. This was not unduly prominent, but\r\nwas softened and rounded beneath the clear skin, which, creamy white on\r\nthe inner side, disclosed a faint pink shade on the outer, denoting the\r\npresence of perfect health. Her hands were moderately small, but perfect\r\nin shape; the fingers were long and tapered, with deep, filbert-shaped\r\nnails; indicating the intellectual cast of mind. The palm was tinged\r\nwith a shell pink, while the back was of transparent, pearly whiteness,\r\nand fine as softest satin.\r\n\r\nShe was not brilliantly fair in complexion, but her skin was beautifully\r\nclear; and the soft roses that tinted her oval cheeks paled, or deepened\r\nwith her varying emotions.\r\n\r\nHer beautiful star-like eyes were of an indefinable shade, being neither\r\ndeep blue, nor brown decidedly. In the sunlight they beamed with a tint\r\nborrowed from the deep azure of the heavens just before sunset, in the\r\nshade they appeared a lovely, unfathomable brown.\r\n\r\nHer nut-brown hair was long, fine, and silky, showing the mental\r\ntemperament by its delicate texture. The head was fairly large, but\r\nwell-shaped. The forehead, the seat of intellect, was high, broad, and\r\nfull. Her eyebrows were well-arched, and curved in fair proportion; but\r\nthe space between the eyes was great, indicating very considerable\r\ndevelopment of the perceptive faculties.\r\n\r\nIt needed no brain specialist to discover at the first glance that\r\nMercia was born to her profession, for her powers of observation and\r\nreflection were mapped upon her brow.\r\n\r\nHer long brown hair was arranged in glossy coils at the back of the\r\nhead, in ancient classic style, showing its perfect contour; while the\r\ncurls near the forehead fluttering like flossy silk, and shimmering in\r\nthe sun with a golden tint, softened the height of her broad and lofty\r\nbrow.\r\n\r\nHer breadth of chest indicated also that the physical part of her\r\ntraining had reached the fullest perfection. The open collar of her\r\ntunic partially disclosed her neck, Juno-shaped, and fine as cream-white\r\nsatin.\r\n\r\nIn working hours she dressed in tunic, and trousers, made of dark, fine\r\ncloth, while her evening, or reception toilette was composed of flowing\r\nrobes of bright, soft silk, which hung in graceful folds from her\r\nshapely bust, and down her well-formed limbs.\r\n\r\nIn her was seen personified modesty itself\xe2\x80\x94not that of mere ignorance\r\nand shyness\xe2\x80\x94but the modesty born of nobility of mind, wisdom, and\r\npurity.\r\n\r\nMercia was devoted to her profession; and so great was her enthusiasm\r\nthat for fully six months in each year she made her observations of the\r\nheavens all night long, snatching only an hour or two in the daytime for\r\nsleep.\r\n\r\nShe had discovered with the aid of the powerful instrument that\r\nGeometrus, her chief assistant astronomer had invented, the existence of\r\na number of new planets which revolved around one of the principal suns,\r\nhitherto unknown. The largest of these planets she named MERCIA, after\r\nherself; to its sun she gave the title of GEOMETRUS, in honour of the\r\nman she secretly loved, but dared not own it, not even to herself.\r\n\r\nIt was a law, or rather, a regulation which was strictly enforced that\r\nno Astronomer to the Emperor might marry. When a candidate for the post,\r\nwhich was deemed as honourable as that of prime minister, was\r\nsuccessful, he was aware of the conditions his acceptance entailed. He\r\nwas required to take a solemn oath to give up all thought of love, or\r\nmatrimony, and devote the whole of his time, thought, and talent to the\r\nfulfilment of his duties, and the furtherance of the science of\r\nAstronomy, generally.\r\n\r\nAstronomy, and Meteorology were considered by the nation such important\r\nbranches of natural science, requiring in their pursuit so much\r\nself-denial that it was deemed an absolute necessity that whoever filled\r\nthis important post should not be trammelled by the entanglements of\r\nlove, nor ties of wedlock. For it was considered the uxoriousness of an\r\naffectionate husband, or wife, would while away the hours which\r\notherwise would have been devoted to his, or her duties, these entailing\r\nlong and severe rounds of night watchings.\r\n\r\nIt is true Mercia possessed the power to give up her post and marry; but\r\nto break the solemn oath she had given her Sovereign and country, to her\r\npure and honourable mind appeared monstrous. Besides, such a course\r\nwould have been attended with serious consequences, for to a certainty\r\nalmost, Geometrus would be requested to resign his position, and thus\r\nboth would lose, not only lucrative and honourable appointments, but\r\nemployment which each enthusiastically loved for its own sake.\r\n\r\nGeometrus was a tall, well-formed man of about thirty-five years; he\r\nstood in his soft leather shoes, which were formed exactly to the shape\r\nof the foot, at least six feet, two inches.\r\n\r\nHis complexion was somewhat similar to that of Mercia, for his hair and\r\nwhiskers were of a bright brown; his eyes were dark and deep set: his\r\nnose was large and straight, but that was the prevailing characteristic\r\nof this time; for the nose being indicative of character, developed\r\ngreatly, keeping pace with the growth of brain-power of which it is the\r\nsign, and outward index.\r\n\r\nThe mouth was firm, the lips being compressed, while the chin was\r\nprominent and broad.\r\n\r\nIn his face the brain specialist could easily read his character, and\r\njudge correctly his special turn of mind.\r\n\r\nAlthough he possessed, to some extent, the same powers of observation,\r\nreflection, and calculation as Mercia, still, his most prominent faculty\r\nwas mechanics. In consequence of the excellent training he had received\r\nat the public schools of Astronomy, the bent of his genius was turned in\r\nthis direction.\r\n\r\nFor this reason he made an admirable assistant to the Chief Astronomer,\r\nin so much, that he was always constructing wonderful instruments set\r\nwith peculiarly formed lenses of his own invention, by means of which\r\nMercia prosecuted with greater success her astronomical observations.\r\n\r\nIn truth, the two were made for each other; not only as co-workers, but\r\nalso in disposition; for where there was a tendency towards an excess of\r\nfiery energy on the one side, it was met with the calm serenity of\r\nstrict discipline on the other.\r\n\r\nMercia was of calm and even temperament, being wonderfully patient and\r\nenduring: the sweetness of her disposition was seldom ruffled, even\r\nunder the most trying circumstances. Although mild in manner, and in\r\nspeech, nevertheless she was by no means apathetic or easy going, for\r\nher life was one constant round of industry.\r\n\r\nThis rare combination of calmness and energy had been transmitted to her\r\nby her mother, a lady of great learning and talent, who filled the\r\nappointment of Chief Inspector of Public Schools under Government.\r\n\r\nThis lady realising fully the immense responsibility she was about to\r\nundertake when becoming a mother, took all the precautions, both\r\nphysical and mental, to ensure having for her offspring as perfect a\r\nhuman being as was possible to obtain.\r\n\r\nThe effect of this _r\xc3\xa9gime_ on the part of the mother, benefited herself\r\nequally as her offspring; for when the hour of accouchement arrived the\r\npains of child-birth were so light, and every muscle and organ of her\r\nbody in such perfect condition, that in the space of a week she was\r\nfully restored and able to resume her social, household, or professional\r\nduties, as if nothing had happened.\r\n\r\nThere was no suckling of infants in these days, except by the very\r\nlowest orders; women having by degrees lost that property for some\r\nconsiderable time. As far back as the close of the nineteenth century\r\nthis power had commenced to fail them.\r\n\r\nEither through weakness engendered by much child-bearing, or the demands\r\nof society upon the time of the women belonging to the upper and middle\r\nclasses, the habit of artificial suckling was resorted to, and\r\neventually adopted by all classes about that period, with the result\r\nthat in course of time Nature altogether refused to give any supply; for\r\nshe ever accommodates herself to the conditions under which she is\r\nplaced.\r\n\r\nThus it came to pass that the mother was equally free as the father in\r\nthe matter of nursing, if she elected so to be; all the same, the child\r\nwas still most carefully and skilfully tended.\r\n\r\nThe post of nurse was only filled by fully-trained, certificated women,\r\nwho thoroughly understood the management of children, and who were\r\ncompetent to take them through any sickness without a doctor\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nassistance.\r\n\r\nBy this time the English language had gained considerably by the\r\nintroduction of words from all nations, who on their side returned the\r\ncompliment by making it a speciality in their public schools, for\r\nEnglish was the commercial language of the whole world.\r\n\r\nBut it became more than a commercial language to the Germans, for they\r\ndropping their own tongue with its uncouth gutturals, adopted the\r\nEnglish, which was essentially their own, cultivated and enlarged, and\r\nmade more musical.\r\n\r\nMoreover another change was effected.\r\n\r\nThe ancient and primitive style was reverted to in the matter of the\r\npersonal pronoun; for the substitution of the plural \xe2\x80\x98you\xe2\x80\x99 for its\r\nsingular \xe2\x80\x98thou\xe2\x80\x99 was considered ungrammatical, and therefore its use was\r\ndeemed improper to continue.\r\n\r\nThis departure was imitated by the French who had been the original\r\nauthors of the anomaly in the early centuries. However, among the lower\r\norders, and in the fireside parlance the plural number was frequently\r\nretained.\r\n\r\nAt this period the Emperor Albert Felicitas reigned most peacefully over\r\nthe Teutonic Empire. He possessed a palace in each capital, dividing his\r\ntime among his various kingdoms with strict impartiality: not that it\r\nmattered much where he resided, as the means of locomotion had arrived\r\nat such perfection that a few hours\xe2\x80\x99 journey sufficed to bring him to\r\nany part of his European Empire.\r\n\r\nHe wintered in Berlin in order to take advantage of the fine frosts, and\r\nenjoy the exercise of sleighing. He summered in romantic Norway and\r\nSweden; utilising the early spring months in travelling through his\r\nEastern and African Empires alternately, and spent the beautiful autumn\r\nin England.\r\n\r\nIn his European dominions each country retained its House of Parliament,\r\nwhich possessed powers to make laws dealing with domestic politics only;\r\nthese being afterwards sanctioned by the Emperor and his Cabinet. This\r\nwas formed of four ministers of each nationality, who were elected by\r\ntheir country every seven years.\r\n\r\nBut a cloud was hanging over the fair horizon of this happy Empire; a\r\ndeep dispute had been growing for upwards of a century between India and\r\nher rulers, formerly the British, but now the Teutonic Empire.\r\n\r\nWestern civilisation, or rather Western ideas, and education had brought\r\nthe natives of the Eastern Empire to such a degree of culture and\r\nenlightenment that the subjugated ones realised that they had become the\r\nequal of their masters long before the dawn of the twenty-first century.\r\n\r\nIn point of fact, the close of the nineteenth century saw India\r\nsupplied, not only with elementary schools, but \xe2\x80\x98High Schools,\xe2\x80\x99 and\r\ncolleges of the first order, where the subjects taught met every want.\r\nThey consisted of civil engineering, mathematics, experimental physics,\r\nmining, metallurgy, chemistry, architecture, forestry, farming,\r\nveterinary surgery, &c. In the College of Science, Poona, at this period\r\nall the foregoing subjects were taken. There was a farm of 150 acres in\r\nconnection with this college which had been transferred by Government to\r\nthe Agricultural Department; there were also a veterinary hospital where\r\nlectures were delivered; mechanical, physical and chemical laboratories,\r\nworkshops, and foundries. A more complete arrangement for the training\r\nof young India could not have been devised. Here students of various\r\nnationalities, but chiefly Hindoos, studied and worked with the greatest\r\nenthusiasm.\r\n\r\nThus for a considerable period the natives had been availing themselves\r\nof the means of education afforded them so benevolently by the English\r\nGovernment, whose motto was \xe2\x80\x98Educate your subjects and they will better\r\nobey you;\xe2\x80\x99 whereas it should have been\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Educate your servants and you\r\nmake them your equals;\xe2\x80\x99 for knowledge gives power, or to define it more\r\naccurately in this case, knowledge gave insight, and discovered to its\r\nvotaries the glories and delights of an enlightened liberty.\r\n\r\nNotwithstanding the hindrances caused by religious superstitions they\r\nmade excellent progress; gradually emerging from the shackles of their\r\nancient beliefs which acted as chains to keep them in the slavery of\r\nignorance, they eventually became almost the equal of their rulers in\r\nmanufactures, art, science, and literature.\r\n\r\nUnder these conditions they had become a powerful people, and\r\nconsequently were greatly dissatisfied with their position of\r\ndependence.\r\n\r\nThere had long been a growing feeling of dislike to the government of\r\ntheir country being consigned to the charge of a mere representative of\r\nthe Teutonic Empire.\r\n\r\nThey considered that the time had arrived that such a vast and important\r\nEmpire as theirs should be ruled by one supreme monarch, whose Court\r\nwould suitably represent their country\xe2\x80\x99s wealth, power, and\r\nintelligence.\r\n\r\nOnce in the enjoyment of a Monarchical Government, tempered by the\r\nrestrictions of a Constitutional, they felt they would be no longer\r\nhandicapped as they had hitherto found themselves, for native gentlemen\r\nwho had benefited their country to a marked degree, as well as men of\r\nacknowledged ability and genius, had, with rare exceptions, no titled\r\nhonours conferred upon them as tokens of recognition of their worth.\r\nThis omission they assigned to the jealousy of their rulers, coupled\r\nwith their overweening opinion of Western superiority.\r\n\r\nThus to this very sensitive people it became a crying calamity that they\r\nhad no Court of their own wherein they could create dukes, lords, and\r\nbaronets _ad lib._ and set up a nobility and monarchy on their own\r\naccount; on the same lines of government favoured by their Teutonic\r\nrulers.\r\n\r\nAlthough India was universal in its desire for \xe2\x80\x98Home Government,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nnevertheless, there were two great political parties in the country; one\r\nwas conservative and desired a Monarchical, the other preferred a\r\ndemocratic or Republican form of government.\r\n\r\nOf course the Press was the expression of these opinions, which the\r\nEnglish and Germans eagerly perused, so that whenever a petition arrived\r\nat the Teutonic Court praying for freedom these opposing opinions were\r\nbrought forward as an excuse for refusing their request.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why ask for powers of self-government,\xe2\x80\x99 they retorted, \xe2\x80\x98when you are\r\nunable to agree upon what form it shall take? You are happier and better\r\nas you are for you know not how to govern yourselves; you are our\r\nchildren; we have educated you, and brought you up, as it were; why\r\ndesire to leave the parental control when it is only exercised for your\r\ngood?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nBut the oppressed ones did not see it: they felt that they were only\r\nstep-children, who were kept out of the benefits accorded the offspring\r\nof their rulers; for all posts of honour and handsome remuneration had\r\nlong been taken up by the overflowings of aristocratic Germanic and\r\nEnglish families.\r\n\r\nEven when in positions where natives were permitted the privilege of\r\nfilling alongside the Englishman, as far back as the nineteenth century\r\nand upwards, natives were not remunerated with anything approaching the\r\nsame rate of income as their more favoured colleagues; although\r\nperforming identical duties in the hospitals.\r\n\r\nA reliable historian of the nineteenth century in treating this subject\r\nsays:\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98One serious obstacle in the way of increasing the supply of\r\nmedical men, (natives) seems to me the unfair and invidious difference\r\nmade in the remuneration of native as compared with English professional\r\nmen employed in our service, and the same it may be added, applies to\r\nlegal, and other departments of the State. Take Delhi, for example,\r\nwhere the civil surgeon, a military man, is paid 1,150 rupees per month,\r\nwhilst his two native assistants receive only 150 each. In Lahore the\r\nEnglish civil surgeon gets 1,050 rupees, the native assistants 150 each.\r\nIndeed, throughout India the proportion is everywhere as seven or eight\r\nfor the English, to one for the native official.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIs it to be wondered at that the dissatisfaction felt at the \xe2\x80\x98plums\xe2\x80\x99\r\nbeing everywhere reserved for the British should begin to find utterance\r\nin the native Press, and in the National Congress?\r\n\r\nSo far as the medical department is concerned it cannot possibly be\r\nurged, as it is in the legal administration, that the moral qualities\r\nwhich are requisite demand a greatly increased scale of remuneration for\r\nthe Englishman. If the services of an English civil surgeon be worth\r\n1,380_l._ per annum, surely those of his chief assistants, if they be of\r\nany value whatever, must be rated low at 180_l._, no matter to what\r\nnationality they belong.\r\n\r\nThis does not apply, however, to the medical colleges and schools. For\r\nexample, at the Campbell Medical School and Hospital, Calcutta, the\r\nsuperintendent, and English surgeon-major receive 550 rupees per month;\r\nand there are eight professors and demonstrators, _all natives_, most of\r\nwhom get from 300 to 350 rupees, and a number of native assistants who\r\nreceive 100 to 150 rupees.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Can anything prove more conclusively that it is not the incapacity of\r\nthe natives, but favouritism of the dominant race which awards\r\ndisproportionately high salaries to the English officials?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Similar inequalities existed in most of the departments of the State,\r\nwhich were of vital importance to the political relations of the\r\ngovernors and the governed.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nSuch were the outspoken sentiments of an Englishman whose high\r\nattainments and wide experience of Indian administration made his\r\nutterances worthy of the deepest consideration.\r\n\r\nSide by side with Western culture grew the desire to imitate the Western\r\nsystem of home government. The initiatory movement in this direction\r\ntook the form of an infant \xe2\x80\x98National Congress\xe2\x80\x99 which had its birth in\r\nthe year of grace 1885, at Bombay, \xe2\x80\x98where seventy-two native gentlemen\r\nfrom all parts of India met together.\xe2\x80\x99 There were representatives from\r\nKarachi, Surat, Poona, Calcutta, Agra, Benares, Lucknow, Lahore,\r\nAllahabad, Ahmedabad, Bombay, Madras, Tanjore, and several other\r\nimportant places in India. Thus was constituted the nucleus of a greater\r\nand more important organisation, which ultimately developed with the\r\ngrowth of Western culture, for every educated Hindoo was as well\r\nacquainted with the social and political history of Great Britain and\r\nIreland as any Englishman could possibly be. At this first Congress\r\n\xe2\x80\x98they spent three days in the discussion of questions affecting the\r\ninterests of the native community, and in passing resolutions thereon.\xe2\x80\x99\r\nThe first resolution, which was supported by gentlemen of unquestioned\r\nstanding, asked for a fulfilment of the \xe2\x80\x98promised inquiry\xe2\x80\x99 into the\r\n\xe2\x80\x98working of Indian administration, and suggested the appointment of a\r\nRoyal Commission, the people of India being adequately represented\r\nthereon, and evidence taken both in India and England.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98An expansion of the supreme and local legislative councils by the\r\nadmission of a considerable number of elected members,\xe2\x80\x99 was another\r\nreform which was considered essential.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Indirectly,\xe2\x80\x99 said the first report, \xe2\x80\x98this Conference will form the germ\r\nof a native parliament, and if properly conducted will constitute in a\r\nfew years an unanswerable reply to the assertion that India is still\r\nwholly unfit for any form of representative institutions.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe answer to these aspirations and desires on the part of the educated\r\nnatives given by the governing classes in India practically were\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98That\r\nthe only government possible for India both in the interest of the\r\nBritish as well as of the natives, and as a protection against Russia,\r\nis a despotism.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That any concessions to native opinion will interfere with that\r\ndespotism.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That the authority and domination of the officials must not be\r\ninterfered with.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That if such concessions are made they will only serve as an opening\r\nfor further demands, the object being ultimately to overthrow the\r\nGovernment, and that the leading natives have that end in view.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe prophets were correct: one hundred years later saw India with a\r\nfully fledged Parliament, enacting laws for her own government and\r\nfinishing by demanding full control of Imperial politics, till finally\r\nthe control of the conqueror, however mild, was sought to be banished\r\ncompletely.\r\n\r\nThere were those who were foolish enough to hint at extinguishing the\r\nViceroy and all his court by means of electric lightning, but that\r\ncourse would have been idiotic in the extreme, for their rulers in turn\r\ncould have annihilated the whole nation by the same process, so that to\r\nendeavour to settle the question by main force was simply impossible.\r\nTheir grievance had by this time attained such magnitude that an immense\r\nrequisition signed by millions of the inhabitants, or rather the\r\nnatives, of India, was sent to the WORLD\xe2\x80\x99S TRIBUNAL for consideration.\r\n\r\nWhat a tumult this action put the whole world into! Thousands of books\r\nand pamphlets were issued on the subject in every country. Throughout\r\nthe globe newspapers and monthly journals eagerly discussed the question\r\nin their columns, and took sides according to their trade or political\r\nrelationships with the countries in dispute, for self ever predominates\r\nin the decisions of nations as in those of individuals.\r\n\r\nNotwithstanding all this literary energy the \xe2\x80\x98Supreme Law of Nations\xe2\x80\x99\r\ntook its course. Delegates from every Government were summoned to appear\r\non May 1 in the year 2002 to consider the secession of the Indian, from\r\nthe control of the Teutonic Empire, and all the world wondered how it\r\nwould end.\r\n\r\nIn due course a sub-committee was formed from the delegates with powers\r\nto choose the place in which the WORLD\xe2\x80\x99S TRIBUNAL should be held. It was\r\nfinally decided that Paris should be thus exalted, for this charming\r\ncity still held its own in the representation of the science and art of\r\nthe world.\r\n\r\nThe Chamber of Deputies for this unparalleled occasion was\r\nnewly-decorated with the greatest lavishness. Exquisitely upholstered\r\nchairs, resembling thrones in their sumptuousness were provided for the\r\noccasion. The walls of the chief chamber in which the Court was to be\r\nheld were beautifully decorated and made to appear like fine ivory, set\r\nin square slabs edged with gold: on each of the squares paintings of\r\nexquisite workmanship relieved the coldness of the pure cream-coloured\r\nivory ground, while silken draperies skilfully embroidered with gold, in\r\nrichest designs hung in graceful folds from windows and doorways. On the\r\nwall immediately behind the President\xe2\x80\x99s chair were suspended valuable\r\npaintings, the frames of which were composed of solid gold, whose\r\ncorners were set with gems of great value.\r\n\r\nAlthough much was done to please the eye in this temple of luxury,\r\nnevertheless, there was naught provided to tempt the palate.\r\n\r\nThe imagination of the ministers might revel in richest surroundings,\r\nbut only the plainest fare was provided in the anterooms for their\r\nentertainment.\r\n\r\nWith these regulations, we may be sure, that the matter under\r\nconsideration was not drawn out unduly, for who would remain in a place\r\nwhere the pleasures of the table were so scantily considered? No time\r\nbeing lost in gastronomical or bibulous gratifications the delegates\r\nwere enabled to bestow assiduous attention upon their duties, and\r\nlistened carefully to the charges brought by the Easterners against\r\ntheir governors.\r\n\r\nThey denounced emphatically the system of vice-government which was rife\r\nwith abuses, and explained that from the very commencement they regarded\r\nthis foreign intrusion as a degradation to their nation. They pointed\r\nout that they were an ancient people, possessing all the prestige of\r\nages of civilisation, who could not forget the glories of bygone\r\ncenturies; for thousands of years they had been governed by their own\r\nrulers, in true Eastern magnificence; at a period so remote that their\r\npresent rulers were then mere barbarians, unknown to the civilised\r\nworld. With such a past as theirs; their country possessing such classic\r\nassociations, standing proofs of which they had everywhere: in the\r\nperfect architecture; in their ancient literature, all of which reminded\r\nthem of their former prestige and splendour. The time had arrived that\r\nthey could no longer ignore the duty that lay before them, namely, to\r\ndemand the restoration of their natural rights which had been filched\r\naway from them by fraud and deceit without their consent or desire.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes!\xe2\x80\x99 continued the speaker, \xe2\x80\x98every inch of our territory has been\r\nsurveyed and measured by the foreign intruder, and the products of our\r\nlabour taxed heavily to uphold in luxury the children of the invader.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIt was the chief minister, Sir John Punjaub, a leading Hindoo, who made\r\nthis daring speech. He was a man advanced in years and full of learning,\r\nwith ever so many letters after his name, indicating his membership of\r\nvarious scientific societies in England, Germany and India.\r\n\r\nHis countrymen adored him, for he had expended his vast wealth for their\r\nbetterment, by the establishment of various philanthropic and\r\neducational institutions: but they loved him chiefest of all for his\r\nactive enthusiasm in the promotion of their country\xe2\x80\x99s political welfare,\r\nand his kindly and ready sympathy in private life.\r\n\r\nIt was said of him that never in his life had he turned away from a tale\r\nof woe; \xe2\x80\x98Better,\xe2\x80\x99 he would say, \xe2\x80\x98give ten times to the unworthy, than\r\nonce turn a deaf ear to the needy.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe struggling youth who found the world too much for him in his first\r\nstart in life would take heart of hope and whisper to himself\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98I will go\r\nto Sir John, he will tell me what to do, and how I am to gain my goal:\r\nhe sends no one away, he gives comfort and information; and if need be,\r\nfunds to the honest worker who seeks his aid.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThus like the god of day, this dear old man imparted life and joy, and\r\nblessings wherever his influence reached, and the people in return\r\nreverenced and loved him greatly.\r\n\r\nIn the Eastern St. Stephen\xe2\x80\x99s he held the position of Prime Minister, and\r\nas a matter of course, upon him devolved the duty of stating the case of\r\nthe Indian Empire before the WORLD\xe2\x80\x99S TRIBUNAL.\r\n\r\nHe spoke in English of the purest diction, and pronunciation as perfect\r\nas that of a polished Englishman; his great experience as a politician,\r\nhis gift of eloquence and his profound wisdom, all combined to make him\r\na unique interpreter of the feeling of India at this vitally important\r\ncrisis.\r\n\r\nThe delegates listened in wrapt attention to every argument brought\r\nforward, giving assiduous attention to their duties throughout, and\r\nmaking notes of every point of any importance, on either side, all being\r\ndone without the smallest loss of time. The result of such industry was\r\nthat in fourteen days the whole of the evidence was gone through, after\r\nwhich the members of the Tribunal made their speeches, expressing their\r\nopinions upon the various points of the case in a clear and succinct\r\nmanner.\r\n\r\nThis refraining from flowery oratory proved a capital saver of time, and\r\nbrought the matter to a close much earlier than if all had disported\r\nthemselves in high-flown rhetoric, or windy word-making.\r\n\r\nBy this time the expression of language had attained such perfection; or\r\nrather, the gift of eloquence had become so general that almost\r\neverybody was able to express himself in well-chosen language with\r\nlittle or no preparation.\r\n\r\nThe result of this tongue-culture was a disfavour towards unnecessarily\r\ndrawn out speeches. Indeed, the rule adopted mostly by legislative and\r\nother assemblies was timed speeches, generally from thirty to sixty\r\nminutes\xe2\x80\x99 duration; but very rarely was this latter period taken except\r\nin cases of extraordinary importance.\r\n\r\nIt would astonish a nineteenth-century parliamentarian if he could have\r\nheard a thirty minutes\xe2\x80\x99 speech at this time. Every sentence uttered\r\nexpressed a thought; not a superfluous word was used throughout; yet\r\nevery idea was enunciated fully and perfectly, for it was concentrated\r\nthought projected in concentrated language.\r\n\r\nFor several previous generations this power of _pr\xc3\xa9cis_ had been put in\r\ngeneral practice. Both parents and teachers making it a point to impress\r\nupon children the vulgarity of verbosity; both in writing and speaking\r\nan artistic method was inculcated that expressed every shade of thought\r\nin the least possible number of words.\r\n\r\nEach day\xe2\x80\x99s proceedings at the World\xe2\x80\x99s Tribunal was known in every\r\ncountry upon the same day. In a couple of hours from the close of the\r\nchamber, the speeches appeared word for word, in the leading newspapers\r\nof every country, including the most distant parts of Africa.\r\n\r\nAlthough eagerly perused by all, the contents were exceptionally\r\ninteresting to India. Millions of dark eyes daily scanned the pages that\r\nbrought them hope and fear alternately.\r\n\r\nAt length the day arrived upon which the decision was to be formally\r\nannounced\xe2\x80\x94it was the twenty-eighth from the commencement. Alas, the\r\nbright hopes of this gentle people were cruelly blasted, for the verdict\r\nof the Great Tribunal was against them.\r\n\r\nAt first overwhelmed with disappointment they were perfectly paralysed.\r\nA deep, dead silence reigned amidst that vast concourse of people while\r\nit was being read out to them; for both high and low had assembled in\r\nimmense crowds in some open space of each great city of India. This was\r\nfollowed by a sudden and furious anger that burst from the heart of the\r\nmultitude and found vent in the loud cries of\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98A trial by combat! A\r\ntrial by combat!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe same day the Indian Press declared that the decision was unjust to a\r\ndegree, nay, iniquitous; and the people of India should refuse to accept\r\nit. Immediately America took up the strain and declared she had never\r\napproved of it, but having been in the minority when put to the vote\r\ntheir opinion had gone for nothing.\r\n\r\nThen Russia had another word to say in the matter, and encouraged\r\nAmerica, until eventually it was conceded that India should be accorded\r\nthe benefit of the final test, and the great question decided by\r\npersonal prowess.\r\n\r\nTo this arrangement the Teutonic Empire made no objection, for the\r\nnatural confidence and conceit of the English caused them to regard with\r\ndisdain an engagement where physical strength gave the victory.\r\n\r\nThus the most primitive method of settling a dispute was resorted to,\r\nwhen the verdict of experienced politicians failed. Muscle-power was to\r\nprevail over mental even with the highly cultured people of this\r\nadvanced period. The fact was, that however well-intentioned a conclave\r\nof politicians at the outset might be, there are so many influences at\r\nwork, and so many international interests to consider, that to mete out\r\njustice with a Solomon-like impartiality proved more than human nature\r\nwas capable of.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER II\r\n THE BATTLE\r\n\r\n\r\nNow, as stated previously, the method of combat was entirely different\r\nfrom any practised in previous times, for the antagonist\xe2\x80\x99s life was not\r\nsought in any case, but disablement only. Victory was secured by\r\nrendering useless the right arm of the foe by giving it a blow with a\r\nshort lance, or instrument electrically charged.\r\n\r\nThe peculiarity of this weapon was that it did not give an electric\r\nshock sufficient to kill a man, its effect being merely to paralyse the\r\npart it touched, and as the rule was to strike only at the right arm, no\r\ngreater injury than the paralysis of that limb could take place.\r\n\r\nOccasionally it happened that the arm was permanently paralysed; but\r\nmostly, only temporarily disabled, for clever electro physicians could\r\ncommonly restore the limb by cunning administration of counter shocks\r\nwhich occasionally required several weeks, and even months, to effect a\r\nthorough cure.\r\n\r\nQuack doctors had an evil time of it in these days; if any one took upon\r\nhimself to publicly prescribe, or vend medicines without having obtained\r\na proper diploma, he was arraigned and condemned to hard labour for a\r\nterm of years. The employment he was put to usually consisted of the\r\nconstruction of public works, or something strictly useful, and\r\nsufficiently profitable to cover the expenses of his detention.\r\n\r\nThis too, was the reign of the specialist. In every trade, or profession\r\nsuch perfect knowledge was requisite that it was customary to take up\r\nbut one branch and adhere to it solely.\r\n\r\nFor instance, a person with a nervous complaint would not dream of\r\nconsulting a surgeon; the bone-setter never interfered with the fever\r\npatient; nor the aurist with the oculist; the child-doctor and\r\naccoucheuse kept strictly to her own department, except in rural\r\ndistricts, where there would not have been sufficient employment for\r\neach branch of medicine to be represented.\r\n\r\nThe solicitor never appeared in a police case; for another branch of the\r\nprofession called \xe2\x80\x98petty pleaders,\xe2\x80\x99 conducted these, the study of which\r\npossessed its own separate course, and examinations. The food-chemist\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndiploma was not identical with that of the ordinary pharmaceutical\r\nchemist; indeed, all the various branches of chemistry of which there\r\nwas a great number, were separately chosen and studied with one definite\r\nend in view, everyone keeping to one thing, and doing that perfectly.\r\n\r\nThe country in which the contest should take place was decided by lot.\r\nThe question was\xe2\x80\x94India or England. And the lot fell on England. But it\r\nwas indeed a difficult matter to discover a place sufficiently great in\r\nthis thickly populated country which would be suitable for this immense\r\ntournament. Eventually, a space of sufficient area was fixed upon, which\r\nconsisted of a number of fields of sweet-smelling flowers that were\r\nbeing cultivated for the manufacture of perfumes; for the wealthy still\r\naffected the natural perfume of distilled flowers, to the manufactured\r\nodours of the perfume-chemist.\r\n\r\nThese meadows formed a space of about two hundred acres, and being only\r\na hundred miles from the metropolis proved most convenient for the\r\npurpose.\r\n\r\nFor several weeks previous to the day a large number of carpenters and\r\nupholsterers were busily engaged making the necessary preparations.\r\n\r\nTiers of seats to accommodate some thousands of persons were reared all\r\nround the field of combat, covered with crimson and gold cloth; while\r\noverhead were awnings of glittering silk composed of the finest drawn\r\nthreads of glass, which shone brilliantly in the summer\xe2\x80\x99s sun. Indeed,\r\nrobes of silk formed of this material were common enough, for the cocoon\r\nof the silkworm was insufficient to meet the demand for this favourite\r\nfabric.\r\n\r\nBut the throne, or seat of the Sovereign outshone all in magnificence.\r\nIt was formed of beautifully carved coromandel wood, the natural\r\nmarkings of which presented the appearance of myriads of heads in\r\ncountless variety of form. Therein could be seen the human face in every\r\nstyle of shape and expression; together with the heads of animals of\r\nevery description.\r\n\r\nThis beautifully marked wood was relieved by inlayings of ivory, edged\r\nwith gold.\r\n\r\nThe awning overhead which protected the monarch and his suite from the\r\nheat of the noonday sun, or summer\xe2\x80\x99s shower, was also made of glass\r\nsilk, the colours of which were artfully blended to represent the\r\nbrilliant hues of the rainbow.\r\n\r\nThe da\xc3\xafs arranged for the accommodation of the umpires was also\r\nhandsomely decorated; and when the field was filled with the\r\nrichly-dressed knights of the silver lance, mounted on graceful steeds\r\nof surpassing elegance of form, it looked, indeed, like fairyland\r\nitself.\r\n\r\nAnd now, behold, the day and hour have arrived for the great tournament,\r\nwhich has to decide the fate of the two contending Empires. Five hundred\r\nmounted, and an equal number of unmounted warriors on either side take\r\ntheir allotted positions, each armed with what appears to be a\r\nglittering silver lance, but is in reality an electrically-charged\r\nweapon whose only mission is to paralyse one particular limb of the\r\nadversary.\r\n\r\nDressed in crimson tunic, and steel-grey breeches, which displayed the\r\nwell-formed proportions of the lower limbs, the lines of English\r\ncombatants presented a most imposing appearance. Five hundred horsemen\r\nbrilliantly attired, with silver helmets glittering in the sunshine, and\r\nmounted on well-trained steeds, awaited the signal to commence, while\r\nthe same number of athletes on foot stood with eager looks in perfect\r\nreadiness also.\r\n\r\nThe Indian athletes formed also a glittering galaxy of imposing\r\nsplendour. Attired throughout in white and gold, their dark complexions\r\nset off by cream and gold helmets which shone bravely in the sunshine,\r\nthey looked, indeed worthy antagonists for the bold and hardy\r\nNortherner. With lances drawn the combatants at the given signal now\r\nrush towards each other. Every man singles out his adversary, when a\r\nmasterly piece of parrying takes place. With great skill and display of\r\nwell-trained muscle-power the Eastern parries the Northern\xe2\x80\x99s stroke,\r\nwhich is unlike all hitherto known, it being allowable only on the right\r\narm. If in the heat of battle an athlete should inadvertently hit his\r\nadversary in a vital part, and thereby cause his death, the unlucky\r\ncontestant must himself pay a heavy money penalty to the family of the\r\nslaughtered man: this rule acted most beneficially, and formed on the\r\nwhole a very safe life-insurance for each combatant.\r\n\r\nThe richly decorated galleries surrounding the scene of action are now\r\nfilled with the _\xc3\xa9lite_ of the whole world. Emperors, kings, czars,\r\nprinces, and potentates of high position accompanied by their ladies\r\nbeautifully attired make a _tout ensemble_ that once beheld could never\r\nbe forgotten.\r\n\r\nSuch a variety too, of costume as was never before seen grouped\r\ntogether, dazzled the beholder; for the Eastern style differed from the\r\nWest as greatly at this time as in any previous period, but in a\r\ncontrary way. During the lapse of many generations the Eastern had been\r\ngradually adopting the Parisian or Western mode of dress; and the\r\nWestern the flowing Eastern robes, until by this time the two modes were\r\nreversed; or, at least as much as our northerly climate would admit.\r\n\r\nThus it came to pass that a fair-haired English maiden would be attired\r\nin a flowing yellow silk robe, confined at the waist by a golden girdle,\r\nand at her side her mother stood draped in rich velvet that hung in\r\ngraceful, flowing ripples from her shoulders; while the native of Turkey\r\nrejoiced in a tight-fitting bodice, with skirt beflounced and befrilled\r\nin nineteenth-century Western style.\r\n\r\nBy this time the emancipation of Turkish women from their conventional\r\nimprisonment had taken place to their intense satisfaction. It was a\r\nlong and hard battle this struggle for independence, and natural\r\nfreedom, and was only gained eventually through the intervention of the\r\nchief women of the Teutonic Empire.\r\n\r\nThese were composed of lady members of Parliament together with the\r\nwives of the peers and nobles who in one great body went to the various\r\npotentates who had sliced up the country amongst them, to beseech them\r\nto advocate personal liberty to the female sex, in whatever degree or\r\nposition in society they moved, and further exhorted them to use their\r\ninfluence with the people generally, to bring about this necessary\r\nreformation.\r\n\r\nSo the French, Russian, and Teutonic Empires graciously complied with\r\nthe request of the fair delegates, and what is more, kept their royal\r\npromise to the best of their ability.\r\n\r\nThis was accomplished in part by the issuing of edicts to the people,\r\nwho were first set the good example by the nobles whose interest it was\r\nto co-operate with their conquerors, or rulers: thus by degrees the\r\nwomen of the Teutonic race accomplished the emancipation of their sex in\r\nthe lazy and luxurious East.\r\n\r\nNever before was seen such a dazzling pageant as that viewed from the\r\nflying machines which hung suspended in the air immediately above the\r\nscene of action. Seated in these a\xc3\xabrial carriages their occupants could\r\nnot fail to enjoy themselves, for they possessed the advantage of\r\nfreedom to eat, drink and be merry, while they watched the fortunes of\r\nwar as they developed in the field below without being hampered by\r\nconventionalities, or inconvenient onlookers.\r\n\r\nAt one moment they would see the Englishman parry the stroke of the\r\nIndian who was making a furious attack on his adversary. The Indian was\r\nindeed, struggling for dear liberty, and under this inspiration his\r\nnaturally calm and placid countenance, whose expression betokened his\r\ngentle disposition, was fired with an enthusiasm that only a mighty\r\noccasion could call forth.\r\n\r\nAges of submission had given him a disposition to yield, for heredity is\r\nall-powerful, nevertheless, he fought against his nature, as it were, in\r\norder to obtain the benefits of that glorious liberty, of which the\r\nBriton himself boasted so constantly.\r\n\r\nWith this high resolve before his eyes, he set aside his natural\r\ninstincts, and becoming another man, excelled himself, and fought the\r\nfoeman bravely.\r\n\r\nThrust and parry; thrust and parry, went on for hours, until at last the\r\nsun was sinking in the horizon, and still the contest hung in even\r\nbalance. Scores of men fell from the ranks on either side with one arm\r\nhanging helplessly at their side, while physicians with galvanic\r\nbatteries stood in their tents outside the enclosure ready to render\r\nthem needful service.\r\n\r\nTime was up at six o\xe2\x80\x99clock, and not too soon, for fighting had commenced\r\nat ten o\xe2\x80\x99clock in the morning, and all were ready to drop with fatigue.\r\nThen the signal was given to cease, when the whole, or uninjured men\r\nwere counted on each side; and to the intense disgust of the English who\r\nwere ever proud of their prowess, and the great and exceeding joy of the\r\nunhappy Eastern the latter had won by just three men. Thus the patient\r\nand persevering Eastern worsted for once the bold and hardy Northerner.\r\nThen a ringing cheer burst forth from the thousand Indian athletes, and\r\ntheir friends; which was caught up by the people suspended above,\r\nfilling the whole air with its shout of glad triumph. After all, Right\r\nhad overcome Might in this great struggle, which finally settled the\r\ndispute of many generations.\r\n\r\nAmong the two thousand contestants only twelve casualties occurred; in\r\nother words, twelve men lost their lives in the encounter. Of these\r\nseven were Hindus; but they died in a glorious cause and their names\r\nwere handed down to posterity by the erection of a splendid malachite\r\ncolumn on which was inscribed their names and a graceful tribute of\r\ntheir countrymen\xe2\x80\x99s gratitude in verse. This was composed by their\r\nbeloved minister, whose splendid appeal at the Great Tribunal had failed\r\nto move the hearts of their judges; but the little verse, noble in its\r\nsimplicity and tender pathos, brought the unconscious tear to the eyes,\r\nnot only of the admiring Native, but also to the Briton himself, who no\r\nlonger grudged the Eastern his well-deserved victory.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER III\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Of queenly mien, of loveliest form, and eyes\r\n Like gems set in translucent skies.\r\n And all the beauty of the Court was dimmed\r\n By fair Igerna: to Uther\xe2\x80\x99s eyes she seemed\r\n To stand a peerless pearl; a diamond divine;\r\n Beyond all price, and fitted most to shine\r\n In kingly coronet of the great on earth,\r\n A prizeful jewel of unbounded worth.\r\n ... All women she outvies\r\n In every gentle grace. Her voice now thrilled\r\n With soft delight his ravished ears, and filled\r\n His listening soul with music\xe2\x80\x99s harmony,\r\n Sweet as the rippling water\xe2\x80\x99s melody.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n _Idylls, Legends and Lyrics._\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Royal Observatory was a stately building of great height erected\r\nclose to the old building in Greenwich Park, which latter was kept as a\r\nshow place, and used also as a lecture hall for students of Astronomy.\r\nThe lower apartments of the new building were occupied by Mercia and her\r\nhousehold, while the upper rooms were devoted to the purposes of her\r\nprofession. A suite of rooms on the left wing were set apart as\r\nworkshops for Geometrus, whose spare time was always taken up with\r\nplanning or perfecting some wonderful astronomical instrument more\r\npowerful than the world had hitherto seen.\r\n\r\nIn a spacious apartment on the third floor which contained two powerful\r\ntelescopes, constructed on principles of entirely modern invention,\r\nbeing capable of revealing the distant suns to an extent never before\r\ndreamt of, was Mercia surrounded by curious astroscopes,\r\nstellar-spectroscopes, and wonderfully constructed cameras, which\r\ndelineated in an instant the starry heights, the glory of which has been\r\nthe ambition of astronomers in all ages to fathom.\r\n\r\nShe was seated at her desk making some mathematical calculations of the\r\ncelestial depths, and was so completely engrossed in her labours that\r\nthe entrance of her fellow-worker, Geometrus, went unheeded. At length,\r\ncoming to a close, she raised her head, when instantly a flush of\r\npleasure brought the rose more vividly into her cheeks.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, Geometrus, is it thou?\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed, \xe2\x80\x98I have finished the\r\nmeasurement of thy namesake, the fixed star, and am happy at last. His\r\nsystem of planets are now all perfect before me: I must write a treatise\r\non this new addition to science so that posterity may know what we have\r\nattained.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why use the word \xe2\x80\x9cwe,\xe2\x80\x9d my mistress,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the young man, \xe2\x80\x98it is thou\r\nalone who hast done the work?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is true that I have made the observations and calculations,\r\nGeometrus, but it was thy cunning which formed the instrument. Take thy\r\ndue, my friend, and be not over modest; some base imitator may some day\r\ndefraud thee of thine invention, unless thou wilt consent to acknowledge\r\nit openly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would that I might acknowledge openly the one deep thought of my\r\nheart,\xe2\x80\x99 he answered with a sigh as he turned to leave the apartment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Stay a little while, Geometrus, I would have some converse with thee. I\r\nam buried so deeply in my work that I know not how the world is wagging.\r\nWhat about the great dispute that is coming before the World\xe2\x80\x99s Tribunal?\r\nIs it a righteous cause this of the Eastern, thinkest thou?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Nay, mistress, that is not for me to settle: judge for thyself. India\r\ndesires to regain her ancient freedom. The Government reins of the\r\nforeigner however lightly held, gall her. She does not deny having\r\nreceived great benefits from the invader, as great as the Romans\r\nconferred upon the early Britons: nevertheless, she would prefer a\r\nmeasure of mismanagement under a native ruler, than the most perfect\r\narrangements from the stranger.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But it is folly in these enlightened times to imagine that India, once\r\nour rule were withdrawn, would revert to the old order of things.\r\nIgnorance and superstition, Eastern despotism and tyranny can never\r\nagain find a home in that beautiful country,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Mercia\r\nthoughtfully.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, we are all well aware of that: but it suits our purpose to make\r\nthese assertions: we must invent a _raison d\xe2\x80\x99\xc3\xaatre_ when we take upon\r\nourselves the government of a country that in no way belongs to us. It\r\nis _pro re nat\xc3\xa2_\xe2\x80\x94for a special business\xe2\x80\x94that we aver they can\xe2\x80\x99t get\r\nalong without us. We have edged in little by little until we have\r\nbrought the whole Empire under our dominion. To give up India now, would\r\nbe as tantalising to us, as it would be to the victorious soldier if\r\nasked to give up his loot; for in the good old times pillage was the\r\nperquisite of the warrior. America evidently sympathises with India in\r\nher desire for a monarchy. That country pretty well understands where\r\nthe shoe pinches for she has gone through experiences.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have read in books,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Mercia smiling, \xe2\x80\x98how American women\r\nmade wealthy by their parents\xe2\x80\x99 success in trade, came hither to mate\r\nwith titled men; for there was no nobility in their own country. I\r\nsuppose possessing all the world could give save high rank they sought\r\nin the parent country for that which their own lacked.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98They lacked not long,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Geometrus laughingly, \xe2\x80\x98for over fifty\r\nyears they have been in the enjoyment of a monarchy and all its\r\nconcomitant honours. The image and superscription of King Jonathan, the\r\nFirst, that adorns the almighty dollar impresses one painfully with\r\ntheir pinchbeck royalty.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98We shall get used to it in time,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Mercia gently. \xe2\x80\x98A young\r\nrepublic cannot make an old monarchy. After all, there was a spice of\r\nmodesty in Jonathan when he elected a king, for he might have made him\r\nan emperor while doing it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It wasn\xe2\x80\x99t modesty at all\xe2\x80\x94it was selfish prudence; they wanted to follow\r\nthe lines of a constitutional monarchy and considered it was the safest\r\nthing to call their Figure Head a king.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If India obtains her desire I wonder whom she will chose for Emperor.\r\nDoubtless the people will want that dear old Prime Minister of theirs;\r\nthey could not have a worthier monarch.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But he is old,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Geometrus quickly, \xe2\x80\x98and he is childless, what\r\nis to become of the succession when he dies? There will arise tumults\r\nand internal quarrels as to his successor: better choose a younger man,\r\nand one likely to found a lasting royal line. Remember the fate of\r\nGermany. Had there been a goodly half-dozen of sons to fall back upon an\r\nEnglish prince would never have had the chance of their crown.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All\xe2\x80\x99s well that ends well, Geometrus. Now is England invincible to the\r\nwhole world: in her position as a united Empire her power is paramount\r\neverywhere.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nNo sooner had Mercia made this observation than she heard the sound of\r\nsome unusual noise going on outside, and stepping to the window she saw\r\nseveral gentlemen assembled near the Observatory, among whom she\r\ndiscerned no other personage than the Emperor Felicitas himself.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Here\xe2\x80\x99s a pretty surprise for thee, Mistress Mercia,\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed\r\nGeometrus excitedly; \xe2\x80\x98none other than the Emperor! It is not I he seeks,\r\nbut thou, Mistress Mercia, I will then away.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Stay, Geometrus!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Mercia quickly, \xe2\x80\x98I would prefer thy company\r\nwhen I receive the Emperor. I will now retire and change my dress for a\r\nmore suitable habit in which to receive so honourable a visitor.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nBut before she could leave the room a messenger was at the door desiring\r\nan audience for his royal master.\r\n\r\nMercia silently bowed her assent; and a moment later the monarch entered\r\nher studio. As he did so she rose from her seat at the large table,\r\nwhich was covered with charts and maps of the celestial regions, all of\r\nher own making, but the Emperor quickly stepping forward observed\r\ngallantly, \xe2\x80\x98Stay, lady, keep thy seat, for it is meet that monarchs\r\nshould serve thee, who art so full of knowledge and wisdom.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou art my master,\xe2\x80\x99 she answered in a grave tone.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thy Sovereign, yet thy servant,\xe2\x80\x99 he replied with a deep bow.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What is thy wish, Sire, wherefore am I honoured by this visit?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would know, fair Mercia, the cause of this change of temperature, not\r\nonly in my dominions, but from all accounts I hear it is general\r\nthroughout the world. For three successive years an extreme cold has\r\nprevailed each season. I fain would learn the reason.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Some serious internal changes are taking place within the body of our\r\nsun. Great caverns, about one-fourth of the sun\xe2\x80\x99s diameter have\r\ndiscovered themselves in his centre. We are not the only planet-dwellers\r\nsuffering from cold at this time, for a difference will be experienced\r\nthroughout the whole of the solar system. But it is only a temporary\r\ninconvenience; from close observation I find that our sun is absorbing\r\nnumerous meteoric bodies, of which there are billions wandering in\r\ninterstellar space, that have been projected from the innumerable suns\r\nstill called stars by the people, and for the sake of convenience the\r\ntitle is retained by physicists. I conclude therefore that there is no\r\ncause for alarm. Our sun has indeed sent out of himself great\r\nprojectiles into space, but he is ever capturing wandering bodies that\r\nhappen to come within his influence. In this way the hydrogen of the\r\nfixed stars is pressed into our sun\xe2\x80\x99s service and a constant heat\r\nsustained, which may last for thousands of years to come.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Of all the stars thou studiest nightly to such excellent purpose, thou\r\nart the brightest, Mercia. Thou art truly the wisest of women; and as\r\nfair as thou art far-seeing. Thy words give comfort to the world, and\r\nthy beauty brings thy Sovereign much delight.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nWhile Felicitas was uttering these pleasant gallantries, he was\r\ngradually edging his chair nearer and nearer to that of Mercia.\r\n\r\nMercia\xe2\x80\x99s countenance at once assumed a more serious expression; hastily\r\nglancing towards that part of the room where Geometrus was seated she\r\nfound he had slipped out unobserved, doubtless with the intention of\r\nleaving them quietly to their discussion on the sun\xe2\x80\x99s condition.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Truly, it is most kind of thee, Sire, to show such appreciation; but I\r\nseek no flatteries, or compliments\xe2\x80\x94nay\xe2\x80\x94I will have none of them,\xe2\x80\x99 she\r\nanswered with downcast eyes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why, what harm is there in speaking a truth, Mercia? I do affirm that\r\nthy beauty only exceeds thy knowledge, or thy knowledge thy beauty, I\r\nknow not which.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Be it so, then, Sire. It is nothing to my credit if I be beautiful; I\r\nhad no part in the making; and as to my knowledge, it is a necessity to\r\npossess it, for it is my livelihood\xe2\x80\x94my very bread.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, Mercia, why spoil those eyes more beautiful than the brightest star\r\nin gazing into unknown regions day and night; year in, year out? Thou\r\nknowest no enjoyment\xe2\x80\x94thou hast no pleasure of life, as other women;\r\nthine existence is lonely\xe2\x80\x94colourless. Drink of the draught of love as\r\nnature wills it, and let the study of the stars stand over for a space.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe voice of Felicitas as he uttered these words was low, but full of\r\npassion; but Mercia, owing to the confusion that covered her, did not\r\nnotice the change of tone. The king\xe2\x80\x99s words had indeed evoked emotions\r\nin her breast that for years she had kept in strict abeyance: now, these\r\nthrobbed and pulsated through her frame with such force that she became\r\ndumb, tongue-tied; at this inopportune moment a knock was heard at the\r\ndoor, and the Emperor himself touched the electric button, when the door\r\nopened of itself and gave admittance to another visitor.\r\n\r\nIt was only Geometrus who had returned for a part of an instrument he\r\nwas making, which he had inadvertently left behind; his entrance,\r\nhowever, put a prompt stoppage to the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s love-making; and Mercia,\r\nhardly knowing what she was doing rose from her seat and turned to leave\r\nthe apartment; observing her intention the Emperor concluded that it was\r\ntime to withdraw.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Farewell, mistress,\xe2\x80\x99 he said lightly, as he made her a bow, \xe2\x80\x98I will\r\ncome again, ere long and learn of thee the sun\xe2\x80\x99s condition which is so\r\nnecessary to be acquainted with.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIt was the fashion at this time to call a woman \xe2\x80\x98Mistress,\xe2\x80\x99 whether\r\nmarried or single. The abbreviation \xe2\x80\x98Mrs.\xe2\x80\x99 was discarded, as was also\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Madam\xe2\x80\x99 borrowed from the French, and the old English style resumed in\r\ntheir stead; while \xe2\x80\x98Miss\xe2\x80\x99 was applied only to children. The married\r\nwoman was distinguished from the unmarried by the possession of two\r\nsurnames,\xe2\x80\x94her father\xe2\x80\x99s and husband\xe2\x80\x99s, while the single woman was known\r\nby her father\xe2\x80\x99s name only.\r\n\r\nMercia, in order to escape from observation quickly made her way into\r\nher most private apartment, and shutting herself safely within she sank\r\nupon the silken couch, and gave way to the tumult of feelings that\r\noverwhelmed her.\r\n\r\nWhat did the Emperor mean by counselling her to relax in her duties and\r\ngive way to the passion of love? she asked herself. Was he putting her\r\nprobity to the test, merely to ascertain of what stuff she was made? or\r\nwas it only a random shot on his part, made for mere amusement, but\r\nwhich had unwittingly touched her deepest feelings? Did he suspect her\r\naffection for Geometrus?\xe2\x80\x94but that was impossible; not a living soul knew\r\nthat she loved this man, not even Geometrus himself. Had Geometrus\r\nbetrayed himself in any way? Was it possible that in some unguarded\r\nmoment he had spoken of his passion for her to some friend who had\r\nafterwards betrayed him to the Emperor? No, that was impossible.\r\nGeometrus would not dare to speak of that which he was prohibited from\r\neven hinting at to herself. Had some person, envious of her position,\r\ninvented some tale, and carried it to Felicitas with a view of bringing\r\nabout her downfall? If so, who could it be? Was it Heinrich, the German,\r\nwho longed for her post, and had he done this dishonourable thing to\r\nobtain it?\r\n\r\nThen the thought crossed her mind of the possibility that the Emperor\r\nmight have been saying something for himself, of which the bare idea\r\nbrought the crimson to her cheeks: but this solution of the question she\r\nendeavoured promptly to dismiss, for Felicitas was already married, and\r\nto offer her, Mercia, an illicit love would be an unparalleled\r\npresumption, even from an Emperor.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What can have put this abominable thought into my head?\xe2\x80\x99 she again\r\nasked herself. Then she rose from her seat and paced up and down her\r\nchamber with perturbed motions and flushed face.\r\n\r\nShe felt that the whole thing was mystifying to a degree. At length,\r\nafter much cogitation she concluded to take no further notice of the\r\nmatter, for it would be undignified to seek explanations either of\r\nGeometrus or the Emperor.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Let me take up a position of inactivity,\xe2\x80\x99 she murmured to herself, \xe2\x80\x98I\r\nwill await developments as they unfold, and shape my course\r\naccordingly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nDid the Emperor dream of success in his endeavour to corrupt the\r\nfaultless Mercia? It was, indeed, a bold step for him to take with one\r\nso high-minded, so self-controlled as she. But her very unattainability\r\nmade her all the more desirable in his eyes: the more he dwelt on the\r\nfutility of his wish the more violently his passion raged within him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I must have Mercia!\xe2\x80\x99 he exclaimed to himself as nightly he lay awake\r\ndwelling on her beauty, her goodness, and her extraordinary abilities.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She must be mine, I cannot live without her! I will go to her again\xe2\x80\x94I\r\nwill risk all, and tell her of my love. If need be, I will break down\r\nthat barrier that divides us; I will not be baulked of Mercia. If she\r\nrefuse to become mine secretly, I will wed her openly, and get rid of\r\nthat flat-faced Russian woman whom my ministers talked me into\r\nmarrying.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nNow Felicitas spoke wildly when he gave way to these thoughts, for it\r\nwas impossible to put away the Empress, he having no adequate cause\r\ngiven him to justify such an attempt. Russia would indignantly resent\r\nsuch treatment of their Princess, and none of the foreign Powers would\r\nstand by him in his demand.\r\n\r\nFrom nineteenth-century immorality covered by the thick cloak of\r\nreligion, a change had gradually taken place for the better in matters\r\nmatrimonial. In fact, a high standard of morality in all things had\r\ntaken the place of religious superstitions; consequently, the teachings\r\nof common sense were adopted in the remodelling of divorce laws, which\r\nfor ages had contained serious blemishes. This, in part, was owing to\r\nthe absurd restrictions of the clergy of those times, the upper members\r\nof which body holding the position of chief legislators together with\r\nthe peers of the realm.\r\n\r\nThese insisted on the indissolubility of the marriage tie, as far as\r\never it was possible to make it, quoting ancient Mosaical laws in\r\nsupport of their views, as if those old-time regulations which were\r\nprobably suitable enough in their day for the primitive people for whom\r\nthey were framed, should continue as a guide for all ages.\r\n\r\nBut long before Felicitas\xe2\x80\x99 time a great revolution had taken place in\r\nlaws matrimonial, which benefited society very materially. These were\r\nnow framed on more equitable principles, for the truest benevolence\r\npervaded their spirit, the punishment of the guilty one being not the\r\nonly object sought, as in nineteenth-century law, which forbade the\r\ndivorce, if it was discovered the two were agreed for it, but rather the\r\nhappiness of both. Marriage was now regarded as a serious civil contract\r\nwhich could not easily be violated, but relief from its yoke was allowed\r\nunder certain conditions, without either party having been conjugally\r\nunfaithful. If a couple living a notoriously unhappy life, and finding\r\nthey were totally unadapted for each other, finally agreed to separate,\r\nit was possible to get the marriage contract annulled, and the two set\r\nat liberty again.\r\n\r\nThe children of the marriage, if any, would be equally divided between\r\nthem, or some amicable arrangement arrived at.\r\n\r\nThis severance did not relieve the husband of the responsibility of her\r\nmaintenance, except in cases where the wife possessed sufficient means\r\nof her own to live upon, or in the event of her marrying again, when of\r\ncourse, all responsibility on his part ceased.\r\n\r\nIt may be imagined that the Divorce Courts were kept pretty lively by\r\nthese innovations; it certainly had this effect for some little time;\r\nbut gradually as education and the higher morality advanced the number\r\nof annulled marriages decreased.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the social plane for woman was raised she became more\r\nexacting in her requirements, preferring to remain single rather than\r\nmate with the morally weak, or otherwise unsuitable person.\r\n\r\nTo a man marriage was not the easy matter it had been to the\r\nnineteenth-century bachelor, when numbers of unemployed, or,\xe2\x80\x94owing to\r\ntheir absurd training\xe2\x80\x94hopelessly incompetent young women were to be had\r\nfor the asking. But this was all changed now; a desirable wife had\r\nbecome as difficult to obtain as a desirable husband in previous\r\ngenerations; and when a man\xe2\x80\x99s suit proved successful, and he had gained\r\nthe object of his choice, he usually behaved in such a way towards her\r\nas gave her considerable satisfaction.\r\n\r\nOn her side too, rested a responsibility which she realised to the\r\nutmost; and willingly yielded to the man she had elected the devotion of\r\na high-minded, unselfish affection.\r\n\r\nLove, in its purest form was woman\xe2\x80\x99s ideal, for the heart as well as the\r\nintellect was cultivated.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER IV\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Your wondrous, rare description, noble Earl,\r\n Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me.\r\n Her virtues graced with external gifts,\r\n Do breed love\xe2\x80\x99s settled passions in my heart;\r\n And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts\r\n Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,\r\n So am I driven, by breath of her renown\r\n Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive\r\n Where I may have fruition of her love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n _King Henry VI._, sc. v.\r\n\r\n\r\nWe left Mercia somewhat settled in her mind regarding the course she\r\nought to take with the Emperor.\r\n\r\nIf Felicitas should chance not to make mention of the subject of love,\r\nwhich was a forbidden one to her, owing to her position, she made up her\r\nmind to forbear making inquiries concerning his motive for introducing\r\nit.\r\n\r\nShe waited and watched each day for his coming with a vague hope in her\r\nheart that he would look favourably upon Geometrus\xe2\x80\x99 love, in the event\r\nof his having knowledge of it. In any case, it could only be a\r\nsuspicion, seeing it was as yet undeclared on his part.\r\n\r\nAlthough she said nothing to Geometrus, nevertheless, he felt there was\r\nsomething in the air. Often he would look at her wistfully and try to\r\nprobe her thoughts; for he saw most distinctly the preoccupation of her\r\nmind as she strove to make her usual mathematical calculations. Still he\r\nforbore questioning her, for the one subject he was desirous of\r\ndiscussing with her, was entirely forbidden. Only his eyes told of the\r\nlove that filled his heart.\r\n\r\nReason reminded him that it was indeed a hopeless affection, for he felt\r\nassured that Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s mind was so bound up in her vocation that she\r\ncould never be induced to abandon it in order to wed one who had so\r\nlittle to offer her in return. Moreover, he too, would be sent adrift as\r\nsoon as the matter oozed out, for the same prohibition from marriage was\r\nplaced upon him.\r\n\r\nNumerous, indeed, were the plans he formed daily in his mind of what he\r\nwould do for a competent livelihood in the event of his acceptance by\r\nMercia. He knew it was useless to make her an offer unless he could see\r\nhis way clear to maintain her, when to accept him she must abandon a\r\nhighly lucrative and honourable position.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But would she indeed make such a sacrifice for him?\xe2\x80\x99 he asked himself,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Would it not be selfish on his part to prefer such a request?\r\nTrue\xe2\x80\x94true; he would not\xe2\x80\x94dare not make it. It was selfish, utterly\r\nselfish to dream of it for one moment. No, he would lock up his\r\nfeelings; he would carefully keep his heart-secret; he would not ruin\r\nher life by asking her to share his comparatively humble position,\r\nsupposing she was willing to listen to him.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThus did Geometrus torment himself with many doubts and fears. At one\r\nmoment making bright plans for the future, wherein he saw himself\r\ndistinguished before the world for his wonderful instruments, the like\r\nof which he knew had never been produced before, and probably would be\r\nat no time beaten. These had been planned and invented in the first\r\ninstance for Mercia alone, yet for Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s sake they should be given to\r\nthe world, so that he might become more worthy of her; a more honourable\r\nmate for the peerless Mercia.\r\n\r\nAh, Love, Love, how much thou hast to answer for! How many human hearts\r\nhast thou set wildly beating for fame that would otherwise have remained\r\nin quiet seclusion? How many mighty minds hast thou set daily and\r\nnightly throbbing with pain by reason of thine unreasonable attraction?\r\nThou seekest thine affinity where it is forbidden thee to enter, ever\r\nregardless of the restrictions and barriers invented by mankind for\r\ntheir protection.\r\n\r\nThou only dost behold the object of thy search; invisible to thine eyes\r\nthe barricades of worldly conventions.\r\n\r\n\r\nQuite alone, and unattended by any member of his suite, Felicitas set\r\noff to pay Mercia his promised visit; who on her side gladly gave him a\r\npleasant welcome. In her heart she fondly hoped that the interpretation\r\nof his words would prove favourable to herself and Geometrus; and in\r\nsome way yet to be discovered, the monarch might benefit them.\r\n\r\nFor could he not influence his ministers to do away with this absurd\r\nmarriage objection? Yes, Felicitas had power to help them, if he could\r\nbe induced to put it into operation. This was the one thing needful; the\r\nmonarch\xe2\x80\x99s goodwill, and all would then be plain sailing.\r\n\r\nTheir marriage need not hinder their work; they two could labour\r\ntogether, she thought, and side by side discharge conscientiously their\r\nallotted duties, to their country\xe2\x80\x99s satisfaction and their own perfect\r\ncontent.\r\n\r\nIt so happened that Geometrus on that day had business in the city,\r\nwhich detained him several hours, and as the Emperor was being driven in\r\na carriage drawn by horses\xe2\x80\x94for this was the custom of royalty, that it\r\nshould be distinguished from the commonalty, who used electric force for\r\ncheapness as for swiftness\xe2\x80\x94he saw Geometrus enter a machine warehouse,\r\nor shop, where electrical household machines were vended.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah,\xe2\x80\x99 thought the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98thou art there, my friend: pray make no\r\nhurry on my account; thou wast truly _de trop_ on the last occasion I\r\ncalled on mine astronomer; I could well have spared thy presence.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThus the Emperor felicitated himself upon his good fortune, in being\r\nsecured against a like interruption on this occasion. When arrived at\r\nhis destination, which was not very soon, owing to the slowness of the\r\njourney\xe2\x80\x94for the speed of the horse was not comparable with that of\r\nelectric energy\xe2\x80\x94the Emperor entered the Observatory with a firm\r\nresolution to make good use of the opportunity with which fortune had\r\nfavoured him. Now, Mercia, with the same motive in her mind, received\r\nhim very cordially, for she desired to make a favourable impression,\r\nwith a view of obtaining his royal clemency in the matter of matrimony,\r\nalbeit, it appeared on further reflection, but a bare possibility that\r\nshe would at any time change her present condition.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, Mistress Mercia,\xe2\x80\x99 he exclaimed playfully, \xe2\x80\x98what cheerful looks thou\r\ndost carry to-day, methinks thy face betokens much content\xe2\x80\x94hast thou\r\ntaken my words to heart, fair lady, \xe2\x80\x99twas truly excellent advice?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sire, thou saidst something concerning the sun\xe2\x80\x94thou didst talk of\r\ncoming to learn more of his condition, I believe,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Mercia\r\nevasively.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98True,\xe2\x80\x99 he replied with a laugh, \xe2\x80\x98I fain would know more of the sun\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nlate vagaries: but it would please me infinitely better to learn\r\nsomething of thyself, dost thou never feel lonely?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Often enough, Sire; the hours speed away at times very quickly when I\r\nam hard at work, but when it is time to rest then the feeling of\r\nsolitude overwhelms me: I get appalled at the silence that surrounds me,\r\nand a melancholy seizes me so severely that I rise unable to cope with\r\nmy duties.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Art thou then tired of this occupation? It is indeed, too much for\r\nthee. Rest a while, sweet Mercia, and let the stars take care of\r\nthemselves for a season.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, that would spoil all my calculations; the work of years would be as\r\nnaught were I to stay my hand now. No, I will wait until my treatise on\r\nthe stars is complete; then I will take some little change for my\r\nhealth\xe2\x80\x99s sake.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Health, and Love, sweet Mercia, go hand in hand together. Let thine\r\nheart melt to its influence, and all will go well with thee. Thy\r\nmelancholies will disappear; thy solitude lightened; for thou wilt have\r\na new theory to analyse\xe2\x80\x94a new and a better one.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, thou canst love, dear Mercia, I know it; for thine eyes were made\r\nfor the conquest of man\xe2\x80\x99s heart, rather than star-gazing. Cease to\r\ndisregard the designs of Nature when she formed thee, and yield thyself\r\nto the pleasure of love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia essayed to answer him, but her tongue refused her utterance, so\r\ngreat was her confusion. She blushed violently, and at last stammered\r\nout\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sire, I know not what answer to give in this matter\xe2\x80\x94I am yet\r\nunprepared,\xe2\x80\x94perplexed with this reasoning of thine.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hast thou not felt the want of companionship, dear Mercia? Here penned\r\nin this solitude only fit for a greybeard thou dost pine, yet knoweth\r\nnot what it is ails thee. It is good to be loved, fair one, to realise\r\nhow much thy womanhood means: hast thou never felt its joys\xe2\x80\x94its pains?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But my bond, Sire, I cannot break my bond, signed by my own hand, to\r\nforswear love and marriage: no one but thyself can relieve me of this\r\nobligation,\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Mercia excitedly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I heartily relieve thee, then, my good Mercia. I care not for the bond\r\none iota, if that be all that\xe2\x80\x99s in thy way. Keep thy post as thou likest\r\nthy work so well, and enjoy the delights of love at the same time,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nreplied the delighted monarch, who found it most difficult to conceal\r\nhis fancied triumph.\r\n\r\nMercia uttered a low cry of joy, and in her gratitude threw herself at\r\nhis feet, then taking his willing hand in hers, she pressed it to her\r\nlips in silence, for her heart was too full for speech.\r\n\r\nWhen the matter had arrived thus far, the Emperor forgetting the caution\r\nand self-restraint he had been hitherto exercising, was no longer able\r\nto contain himself; stooping down towards the kneeling girl he caught\r\nher in his arms, and in a perfect frenzy of rapture commenced to shower\r\nhot kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips.\r\n\r\nMercia was so completely taken aback by this unexpected raid, that her\r\nbrain fairly reeled for a moment; then recovering her senses she quickly\r\nwrenched herself out of his arms, and gazing on him with blanched face,\r\nshe cried in a voice gasping with pain and indignation\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What means the Emperor by this unheard-of liberty? What have I done\r\nthat I should be treated as a courtesan by my Sovereign?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98A courtesan!\xe2\x80\x99 he repeated. \xe2\x80\x98Why Mercia, I would give thee a crown if I\r\ncould! Thy queenly brow was truly made for one; and by the stars, thou\r\nshalt have it yet! Yes, Mercia thou shalt share my throne and rule me,\r\nmy sweet, together with mine Empire.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Share thy throne and rule thine Empire! Surely, Sire, thou hast gone\r\nmad!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, truly, I am mad\xe2\x80\x94mad with love for thee, and thou knowest it,\r\nMercia, else wouldst thou have kissed my hand in acknowledgment of it?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98In acknowledgment of _thy_ love!\xe2\x80\x99 she answered in strong indignant\r\ntones, \xe2\x80\x98it was not so\xe2\x80\x94thy love never entered my thought.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Whose then?\xe2\x80\x99 questioned Felicitas shortly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus,\xe2\x80\x99 she acknowledged bravely. But the next moment she felt she\r\nhad given away both herself and him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus!\xe2\x80\x99 he scoffingly repeated. \xe2\x80\x98And dost thou place that poltroon\r\nbefore me? Am I to be flouted for him?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98His love is honourable, and thine is not; therein lies the difference,\r\nmy Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 she answered soothingly, with a view of bringing him to\r\nreason.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But my love _shall be made_ honourable, Mercia. I will get a divorce,\r\nand thou shalt fill the Empress\xe2\x80\x99s place\xe2\x80\x94aye, and fill it far away better\r\nthan she has ever done! I hate her\xe2\x80\x94curse her!\xe2\x80\x99 And he ground his teeth\r\nin rage at the thought of his wretched inability to accomplish what he\r\nwas so loudly boasting of.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But I cannot rob another woman of her husband: I would not defraud the\r\nmeanest in thy realm, much less thine Empire\xe2\x80\x99s highest lady.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is not robbery, Mercia, she doth not own my heart, and never did! I\r\nwas cozened into that marriage by my cousin Osbert\xe2\x80\x94curse him\xe2\x80\x94curse him\r\nfor a meddling fool!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He, doubtless, did it for the best. The whole of thy Cabinet approved,\r\nso did the nation. It is a new thing for me to learn that our Emperor\r\nlives unhappily with his spouse\xe2\x80\x94I cannot understand it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I never felt the chains gall till now, Mercia. A quiet indifference\r\nkept me content until thy beauty set my heart a-beating with a new joy.\r\nI knew not love till mine eyes dwelt upon thy loveliness, and mine ears\r\nlistened to the words that flowed from thy lips like a sweet, rippling\r\nfountain, whose waters gave forth a pure, clear, life-giving stream.\r\nYes, I have drunk therein, and am filled with new emotions\xe2\x80\x94new joys\xe2\x80\x94new\r\nhopes\xe2\x80\x94new life!\xe2\x80\x99 He clasped his hands in an ecstasy of happiness, as at\r\nthat supreme moment he gave rein to the powerful impulses that swayed\r\nhim.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Now is my beauty an evil thing, and a curse to me!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Mercia, at\r\nthe moment bowing her head in deep dejection, and hiding her face in her\r\nhands.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Would I had never been born, or that nature had shaped me uncomely, for\r\nthen this misfortune could not have overtaken me! Two men desire me, and\r\nI may not have either. I must live in a world filled, like a garden with\r\nflowers\xe2\x80\x94flowers and blossoms of love; yet I may not touch them; their\r\nfragrance is not for me; not one may I wear on my breast! Yet, they nod\r\nand beckon me to pluck them: they offer me the incense of their being,\r\nand would fain spend their full fragrance upon me; for their desire is\r\nto nestle on my bosom, and give me the joy of their beauty and love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nShe spoke as one entranced, who ignoring all listeners felt naught of\r\nthe presence of another. For the moment her anguish was her only\r\ncompanion, which the presence of Felicitas could not restrain. It was\r\nthe bursting wail of a heart kept long in subjection and unnatural\r\nrestriction, which now claimed its rights. Thus did the longing for love\r\nbring sorrow to Mercia, such sorrow as she had never before tasted.\r\n\r\nAs Felicitas gazed upon the beautiful woman standing before him in an\r\nattitude of grief and despair, her head bowed down, her arms\r\noutstretched, showing the contour of her perfect form, he felt as one in\r\na dream\xe2\x80\x94a ravishing dream that inspired every sense with a deliciousness\r\nhe had never before experienced.\r\n\r\nOn his enraptured ears her words fell like the music of a poem, for the\r\nfull, rich, melodious _timbre_ of her voice lent to them a peculiar\r\ncharm: their pathos melted him; their sweetness enchained him.\r\n\r\nSeized anew with the intoxication of his passion he sank on his knees\r\nbefore her; his whole frame quivered with emotion, while the varying\r\ntones of his voice testified how greatly the torrent of his passion\r\nswept through his soul.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia, Mercia, give me thy love!\xe2\x80\x99 he cried impetuously; \xe2\x80\x98take me, my\r\nbeloved, spurn me no longer, for without thee I am as one dead! As a\r\nworld without sun, having no life, nor warmth, I shall go on my way\r\ndarkened for ever. Take me into the sunshine of thy love; give me new\r\nlife, dearest. Resuscitate and refresh me with the joy of thy beauty;\r\nand let us drink of the wine of love\xe2\x80\x99s pleasures for ever. Then shall we\r\ntwo learn how good it is to love; how sweet it is to be together; how\r\ndelightful the blending of two souls made satisfied with their own\r\ncompanionship.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAs one in a dream Mercia listened to his passionate outpourings; she\r\ndrank in his words as gratefully as the parched earth a summer\xe2\x80\x99s shower;\r\nbut her mind was with Geometrus. In imagination she was with him,\r\nlistening to the pent-up eloquence that his soft dark eyes daily\r\nexpressed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is Geometrus who speaks!\xe2\x80\x99 she murmured absently; \xe2\x80\x98Geometrus has\r\nopened his heart to me at last!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus!\xe2\x80\x99 shouted the Emperor, almost out of his head with rage and\r\njealousy; \xe2\x80\x98it is _not_ Geometrus\xe2\x80\x94it is I, Felicitas\xe2\x80\x94Felicitas thine\r\nEmperor who abjectly offers thee his love, and his crown, and sues thee,\r\nMercia\xe2\x80\x94his subject\xe2\x80\x94his servant!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen Mercia, awakening from her love-dream began to realise her true\r\nposition. For an instant she paused, and passed her hand across her\r\nbrow, as if to recover her senses; then she said in a deliberate and\r\ndignified voice\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Felicitas, the Emperor hath no crown to offer his subject, Mercia, for\r\nit sits already on the brow of his royal spouse; neither has he love to\r\noffer his servant, Mercia, for it is sworn to his Empress for ever. It\r\nis an insult to me, Mercia, thine offer of illicit love, and I refuse to\r\nlonger remain in thy service.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nUpon hearing these words the heat of his temper suddenly cooled; he saw\r\nhe had not only ruined his cause with the lady, but he was bringing upon\r\nhimself public dishonour; for the reason of the resignation of their\r\ngifted and enthusiastic astronomer would be demanded by both ministers\r\nand nation alike. As she turned to leave the apartment, for she\r\ndisdained having further converse with him, he forcibly caught her by\r\nthe dress, with a view of detaining her.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Stay, Mercia, stay, and listen to me! Listen to one word more, I\r\nbeseech thee. Thou shalt, for indeed I will not let thee go!\xe2\x80\x99 He shouted\r\nfiercely, for she was wrenching herself out of his grasp.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Touch me not!\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed excitedly, \xe2\x80\x98or I will kill thee as thou\r\nstandest!\xe2\x80\x99 and from her girdle she took a small ebony stick,\r\nelectrically charged, which she wore as a kind of life-preserver, in\r\naccordance with the custom of ladies, who worked, or walked out a good\r\ndeal alone.\r\n\r\nShe had reached the door, and opened it, when who should rush upon the\r\nscene but Geometrus accompanied by the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s cousin, Prince Osbert,\r\nwho had been seeking him for some time past.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia insulted, and by the Emperor! What is the meaning of this?\xe2\x80\x99\r\ninquired Geometrus, at the same time facing Felicitas with eyes of fire.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I am not insulting her,\xe2\x80\x99 coolly rejoined the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98she has\r\ndisobeyed my commands respecting some important astronomical information\r\nI required, and is endeavouring to shield her own shortcomings by\r\ngetting into a rage: \xe2\x80\x99tis woman\xe2\x80\x99s way, but I\xe2\x80\x99ll have none of it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen Mercia drawing herself up to her full height, exclaimed in\r\nindignant voice\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Liar, and traitor, I despise thee! Bid thine Empress\r\ncome hither, I have somewhat to tell her. As for me, I shall never\r\nreceive thee here again, thou woman-betrayer! Get some other to fill my\r\nplace, for I shall quit it forthwith.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen she turned away with haughty mien and left the apartment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What\xe2\x80\x99s all the row?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s cousin, who affected\r\nvulgarity of speech when with his intimates.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Explain this, Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 demanded Geometrus, who was bursting with surprise\r\nequally as indignation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Bah, it is naught\xe2\x80\x94it is much ado about nothing,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the Emperor\r\nshrugging his shoulders.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I do not believe it,\xe2\x80\x99 promptly answered Geometrus; \xe2\x80\x98my mistress is too\r\ngentle, too self-restrained, and too honourable to make an unjust\r\naccusation against anyone; least of all, her royal master. This matter\r\nshall be looked into, Sire. Though thou art an Emperor thy conduct shall\r\nbe examined, and the light of the noonday sun thrown upon it; for it is\r\nmeet that those filling high places be honourable men.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If Mistress Mercia sees fit to give up her post, thou Geometrus canst\r\nworthily fill it,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Felicitas in an insinuating manner, hoping\r\nto mollify him by offering to place him in a more exalted position.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By all that\xe2\x80\x99s good, I take not my mistress\xe2\x80\x99s place because thou hast\r\nmade it intolerable for her! No, Sire, that shall not be. But certainly\r\nthou shalt answer for this day\xe2\x80\x99s work, I warn thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou hast no proof at all, fellow, that I have done aught amiss, save\r\nher lying tale: it is all a woman\xe2\x80\x99s hysterical nonsense, and I am sick\r\nof the pother made of it,\xe2\x80\x99 observed the Emperor, affecting great scorn.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Let\xe2\x80\x99s be off!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Prince Osbert lightly; \xe2\x80\x98we have had enough of this\r\nnow. Let the woman wiseacres in Parliament settle this little matter\r\namong themselves: it will afford them much satisfaction, I\xe2\x80\x99ll warrant.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Parliament!\xe2\x80\x99 echoed the Emperor, while his face turned very white.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Surely not: this trifle is unworthy serious consideration. It would ill\r\nbecome our wise Senate if it occupied itself with the consideration of a\r\nwoman\xe2\x80\x99s silly nonsense. I will, myself, settle this matter with Mistress\r\nMercia. I promise that, gentlemen, so do not trouble yourselves further\r\nabout it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It shall not end in this way;\xe2\x80\x99 returned Geometrus firmly; \xe2\x80\x98I shall see\r\nthat this matter is not hushed up.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98So shall I!\xe2\x80\x99 came from a voice from behind a screen in the room; when\r\ntherefrom emerged an old man named Sadbag, a leading Radical politician,\r\nwho was dead against Royalty, and affected reform, advocating strongly a\r\nRepublican form of Government.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s conduct is a disgrace to our civilisation,\xe2\x80\x99 he continued,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have seen the beginning and end of the whole affair; for I was seated\r\nreading in that corner yonder, awaiting an audience of Mistress Mercia,\r\nwhen the Emperor was ushered in unnoticed by me; I continued reading\r\nuntil I dropped asleep and was aroused by the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s passionate tones\r\nwhen making his love-appeals to the obdurate Mistress Mercia. She\r\nscorned him, and he got furious. I saw it all! I will never forget the\r\nscene if I live to the age of Methuselah!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My stars, but Kate will make it hot for thee! She will have good cause\r\nfor her jealousy this time, old man! I wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t be in thy shoes for a\r\nkingdom; fancy, the virtuous Felicitas caught corrupting his astronomer!\r\nOh, my, this is funny!\xe2\x80\x99 cried the light-minded prince, who laughed\r\nheartily, at the thought of the scrape his cousin had got into.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Funny isn\xe2\x80\x99t the word for it\xe2\x80\x94it is atrocious\xe2\x80\x94abominable! It hath been\r\never the custom of idle monarchs to fill up their time with seducing\r\ngood women. The hunting is more keen when the lady is virtuous, and\r\nthereby the game made all the more delightful. Let\xe2\x80\x99s do away with such\r\ngood-for-naughts\xe2\x80\x94they are a disgrace to our country!\xe2\x80\x99 cried the old man\r\nexcitedly addressing Geometrus.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98So then, wouldst thou trump up a story to lose me my crown in order to\r\nestablish thine own political absurdities? Thou, and the woman Mercia\r\nare in league against me! You twain have hatched this conspiracy to work\r\nmy disgrace. But I will scatter it to the winds\xe2\x80\x94I will prove its utter\r\nfalsity. I will show how futile are your plans to bring about a\r\nrevolution: Mercia and thou shall die for your crimes; for it is nothing\r\nshort of high treason.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98High bunkum, thy Majesty talkest!\xe2\x80\x99 retorted Sadbag sarcastically; \xe2\x80\x98thy\r\nblundering only equals thy blustering. Thy cousin, the prince, and\r\nGeometrus are witnesses of the truth of my statement, for they saw for\r\nthemselves the fag end of the affair; they caught thee forcibly\r\ndetaining the lady, and heard her threaten to kill thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That of itself makes high treason! To threaten the life of the\r\nSovereign is enough\xe2\x80\x94the law still holds good in my realms to punish such\r\ncrime with death. This one charge alone against Mercia is sufficient!\r\nShe must die the death of a felon, and pay for her temerity,\xe2\x80\x99 returned\r\nFelicitas, who thus interpreted the law with much assumption of dignity,\r\nto suit his own convenience.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The nation will not see Mercia die for such a dastard as thou!\xe2\x80\x99\r\nexclaimed Geometrus, suddenly awakening from the stupor of surprise that\r\nhad overtaken him, as the matter developed itself. \xe2\x80\x98I saw thee last week\r\nphilandering around her, but at that time I understood not its meaning;\r\nneither did she; otherwise she would have taken more precaution in\r\nreceiving thee. Even then, she requested me to remain in the room when\r\nshe gave thee an audience. She surely had some instinct that thou wert\r\nnot to be trusted\xe2\x80\x94ah\xe2\x80\x94now I see it all!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98A trusty witness truly! She and thou have spent the time philandering\r\nyourselves, and this is why thou measureth me a peck out of thine own\r\nbushel. Thou shalt be indicted, Geometrus, for breaking the oath of\r\nthine engagement. Thou hast been spending the nation\xe2\x80\x99s time love-making,\r\nand hatching high treason,\xe2\x80\x94all three of you shall repent your little\r\ngames.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Blacking the character of another will not clear thine own. These\r\nwholesale indictments of thine will not serve thee. Thy case is a poor\r\none, and thou hadst better own thy fault, rather than invent outrageous\r\ncharges against thine accusers;\xe2\x80\x99 urged the old man with greater calmness\r\nthan he had hitherto displayed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia made the admission herself,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Felicitas. \xe2\x80\x98She said she\r\nloved Geometrus and fain would marry him if she might.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAt this Geometrus started, and went very red in the face; being totally\r\nunprepared for this avowal of the Emperor; which gave him a sudden\r\npleasure he was unable to conceal.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98There is proof abundant, if more be wanting, of the nature of the\r\nEmperor\xe2\x80\x99s business with Mercia,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Sadbag reflectively, then\r\nturning to the Emperor, he demanded\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98What happened that this matter of\r\nGeometrus\xe2\x80\x99s love was discussed between you?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She desired me to use my influence with my Cabinet to get the custom\r\nchanged which hath been so long observed, so that she might retain her\r\npost and take a husband at the same time.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And thou, in thy great benevolence and generosity didst promise, and\r\nfinish by trying to make her pay for the boon by accommodating thy\r\ndesire?\xe2\x80\x99 suggested Sadbag, following up the clue the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nadmissions had given him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I will answer no more of thy questions, fellow,\xe2\x80\x99 responded Felicitas,\r\nwho looking very uncomfortable made for the door.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I think this business is getting too hot for thy Majesty; thy capers\r\nare costing too dearly. What folly to count on a strong-minded woman\r\nlike thine astronomer! Why didst thou not make advances to some idle\r\nlady of thy court where such favours are dispensed more readily?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I will have thee indicted for a revolutionist and a maker of mischief\r\nin my realms, and pay thee well for all these insults,\xe2\x80\x99 retorted the\r\nEmperor as he left the Observatory.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Bounce and boast help no one for long; not even an Emperor!\xe2\x80\x99 called out\r\nSadbag after him.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER V\r\n\r\n\r\nThe discussion then terminated, but not the dispute. Each went his own\r\nway with the determination to work out the discomfiture of his\r\nadversary, to the best of his ability. Sadbag made his way at once to\r\nhis club, the headquarters of the Radical Association, and related the\r\ndisgraceful occurrence to its leading members; who realising the gravity\r\nof the situation convened a special meeting; so that measures might be\r\npromptly taken to get first in the field in the exposure of the Emperor,\r\nand thereby nullify his evil intentions.\r\n\r\nSo perfect was the system of communication throughout the globe that the\r\nsame evening, not only had the Radical newspapers the whole story set in\r\ntype, but this society titbit appeared next morning on the breakfast\r\ntables of the people throughout the whole of the Empire. As a matter of\r\nfact, two hours later the news was in every part of the world. It gave a\r\nsplendid impetus to the trade, for each printing office turned out at\r\nleast three times its usual quantity of newspapers for the first week,\r\nand double the number for every succeeding one the case lasted.\r\n\r\nThe subject for long enough furnished matter for light little articles\r\nin the monthlies, and heavy discourses in the quarterlies. It supplied\r\nthe novelist with material for his plots, and the delighted dramatist\r\nfor his plays. An Emperor on his knees to a subject was not an every day\r\nsituation, while the scene where she threatens his life was quite too\r\ntragical to be neglected. It gave the libretto to the composer, great\r\nand small, of comic opera, and in serious opera it was thrilling. Mercia\r\nin a state of ecstatic bliss warbling sweetest love songs to the\r\nenchanted Emperor, formed a delicious scene that was irresistibly\r\ncharming to all beholders. When the proper time arrived the fearless\r\nSadbag sent a full description of the affair to every journal throughout\r\nthe world. He even wrote it out, and telephoned the minutest details to\r\nIndia, and every country in communication telephonically, with the\r\nTeutonic Empire.\r\n\r\nTherein the love scene was graphically described, in Sadbag\xe2\x80\x99s humorous\r\nvein, but with due regard to Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s sensitive feelings.\r\n\r\nFor the first time her personal character was given to the world, but\r\nsuch a halo of purity and modesty was drawn round it that it evoked\r\neverywhere the most enthusiastic admiration for her character.\r\n\r\nThe description of the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s duplicity and contemptible meanness was\r\ngiven with ruthless vividness, when at the moment he was surprised, he\r\nendeavoured to turn the tables on the high-minded lady, who having\r\nproved invulnerable to all his blandishments he accused of having\r\ncommitted the capital offence of high treason.\r\n\r\nFrom the commoner, to the crowned head of every country, almost, the\r\nstory of the Emperor of the Teutonic Empire and his astronomer was\r\ndiscussed. In the cottage, the castle, the street corner, the court and\r\nthe club, it became at once the leading subject of conversation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, well!\xe2\x80\x99 observed one of the viceroys of Turkey\xe2\x80\x94for that country had\r\nbeen long before divided between Russia, France and England\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98this comes\r\nof giving women too much freedom: had it been a man that was filling the\r\npost of astronomer this could never have happened.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But it might to his wife!\xe2\x80\x99 answered one,\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98With a different result,\xe2\x80\x99 added another;\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Is then a married woman more compliant than a single?\xe2\x80\x99 queried a third.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It all depends upon the sort of woman,\xe2\x80\x99 observed a fourth.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The danger is lessened when the lady already runs a nursery,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked\r\nhis neighbour cynically.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Science meets that difficulty,\xe2\x80\x99 interpolated another of the party.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98A husband\xe2\x80\x99s jealousy is the greatest of all dangers,\xe2\x80\x99 retorted his\r\nneighbour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Cease these pleasantries, gentlemen, and discuss the matter seriously,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nexclaimed an elderly minister with dignity, \xe2\x80\x98England is to be indeed\r\ncongratulated on having women of such stamp as the peerless and\r\nincorruptible Mercia. Search the world through and we shall be unable to\r\nfind any to compare with them in physique, or mental attainments. They\r\nare indeed, Nature\xe2\x80\x99s queens, and in every way fit to grace a coronet.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Talking of coronets reminds one of crowns: there\xe2\x80\x99s a pretty hubbub\r\ngoing on just now; India expects to win her freedom and is casting about\r\nfor an Emperor,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked another;\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why not give it to Mercia, she\xe2\x80\x99s as good as a man?\xe2\x80\x99 suggested his\r\nneighbour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Better, I should say,\xe2\x80\x99 rejoined another of the group, \xe2\x80\x98judging from\r\nresults.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The natives would never stand it: every nabob wants it for himself.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All cannot have it, that is very clear,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked one of the party.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Better settle the matter by giving it to none of them, and choose a\r\ngood stock from the country that ruled them, and made them what they\r\nare; and thus establish a Royal Line which will do them credit for all\r\ntime,\xe2\x80\x99 suggested the elderly minister, who was a Frenchman and a\r\nbeliever in women, and especially a believer in the beautiful Mercia.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VI\r\n\r\n\r\nWe must leave these gentlemen in the far East, and come back to\r\nGreenwich.\r\n\r\nWhile the Emperor was returning to London he cast about in his mind for\r\nsome way out of his difficulty.\r\n\r\nHe felt it was little use seeking the assistance of his royal consort,\r\nCatherine, daughter of Nicholas of Russia.\r\n\r\nShe would have little sympathy with him in his trouble, unless he could\r\npersuade her of his innocence of the charges that were being made\r\nagainst him.\r\n\r\nTaking into consideration, too, that on that very morning he had\r\nquarrelled with her, and brutally told her that he heartily wished\r\nhimself rid of her, it was at present, scarcely wisdom to seek her\r\nadvice.\r\n\r\nWhile his mind was thus filled with gloomy thoughts, the silence was\r\nbroken by Prince Osbert who was accompanying him to the palace.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Here\xe2\x80\x99s a pretty pickle, to be sure!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the prince, \xe2\x80\x98a nice\r\nposition for a royal Emperor to be found interfering with his lady\r\nastronomer, and she threatening his life to make him release her. What\r\nthou canst do to re-establish thy reputation is about as clear as mud to\r\nme, for by my conscience, I cannot see a way at all!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What a prating fool thou art, Osbert! I can plainly see unless thy\r\ntongue is kept from wagging thou wilt ruin me by thy talk. Say nothing\r\nat all about the lady having been detained by me. I don\xe2\x80\x99t mean to own to\r\nthat part of it. Let us declare that she deliberately turned upon me\r\nwhen I expostulated with her upon her idleness; that will give the\r\nmatter a better appearance.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Aye, truly, a better one for thee! But thinkest thou, cousin, that the\r\nHouse will believe thee? I guess, they will sooner take Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s word:\r\nremember its lady members, how bravely they defend their sex at all\r\ntimes. I wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t give a sixpence for thy reputation after they have\r\nhandled thy case.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What care I for the good opinion of a handful of women? What are they\r\nin my vast dominions? Nothing, truly, nothing! Nevertheless, a monarch\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nvirtue, should be, like C\xc3\xa6sar\xe2\x80\x99s wife, above suspicion: so Osbert, good\r\ncousin, thou must help me in this matter, and swear to all I tell thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Commit perjury! No thanks, not if I know it. I cannot tell a lie\xe2\x80\x94I\xe2\x80\x99m\r\nanother Juvenile Washington. Besides, Felicitas, it goes against the\r\ngrain to do a dirty trick to any lady, least of all, our peerless\r\nMercia.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She is a lady of untarnished reputation, with whom I would strongly\r\nrecommend thee to make thy peace. Indeed, the ways of Emperors with\r\ntheir lady-subjects are quite too much for me\xe2\x80\x94I cannot comprehend them.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Heartless, thou ever wert, Osbert, pray try to realise my situation,\r\nand give up thy attitudes and play-acting proclivities. Now, remember, I\r\nhad no hold on her person, when you two dropped upon us\xe2\x80\x94I was merely\r\nexpostulating with her.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I\xe2\x80\x99ll have nothing to do with the matter at all, I shall say I was\r\nseized with sudden blindness at that moment and saw nothing.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Idiot, wilt thou keep to that?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Felicitas gloomily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, I will stick to that, wild horses shall not drag other from me.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No one will believe thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No one would believe the other thing, so it comes to the same for\r\nthee,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Osbert lightly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What other thing?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Felicitas.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thy statement that she was idle, and thou wert reproving her for it.\r\nHer work proves her industry: she has any amount to show in defence of\r\nthy charge. Look at her maps; her writings; her daily announcements; her\r\ndaily registrations of her observations. The charge of idleness, I fear\r\nme, will not help thy cause.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It was not idleness in general, but some information in particular that\r\nshe failed to supply me with.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Think it over, cousin, of what this particular information consisted. I\r\nbet my garters it was somewhat thou canst not explain publicly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Cease thy chatter, and stick to thy resolve of having turned blind that\r\nvery moment; \xe2\x80\x99tis the best thou canst do for me, I see very plainly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98So I see, too, and as we two see alike we cannot come to any\r\ndifference. Adieu, cousin, I hope Kate will not chide thee for having\r\neyes for other women! That is my best wish for thee, this fine day.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I don\xe2\x80\x99t think that fellow could think seriously for five minutes if he\r\nhad to be hanged for it,\xe2\x80\x99 the Emperor muttered to himself, using the old\r\nexpression \xe2\x80\x98hanged\xe2\x80\x99 for it was still retained, although that form of\r\nexecution had been given up long before.\r\n\r\nAs the Emperor was being driven back to the city, Prince Osbert who\r\ncared little for his company at this moment, alighted from the carriage,\r\nleaving him to the management of his own affairs. Felicitas, then\r\npromptly decided upon driving to the official residence of his prime\r\nminister, Mr. Stonesack, for he was anxious to confer with him\r\nconcerning the dilemma in which he was placed. Moreover, he desired to\r\nintimate to his minister that steps must be taken at once for the arrest\r\nof Sadbag and Geometrus. Neither could Mercia be left out of the\r\nindictment, for according to his story, she was the principal aggressor.\r\nHe was not so lost to all good feeling that he experienced no pangs of\r\nself-reproach for the part he was taking against the innocent girl; but\r\nhe could see only two ways out of the difficulty; either the impeachment\r\nof Mercia and her friends, or a full confession of his own conduct.\r\n\r\nThis latter would have been intolerable. The deliberate exposure of\r\nhimself to the public, and a big public it was, by this time, for it\r\nembraced the whole world, after having so long played the part of Simon\r\nPure to popular opinion, was out of the question. He would certainly\r\nshield himself, he thought, and if the worst came to Mercia he could\r\nexercise his royal clemency on her behalf, and set her at liberty again.\r\n\r\nBy this course he would get rid of the detestable Sadbag for good, and\r\nGeometrus at the same time. Who knows, thought Felicitas with a faint\r\nsmile, but Mercia may still prove kind to me, if that fellow were only\r\nput out of reach.\r\n\r\nThen followed in his mind bright visions of a lovely dwelling, situated\r\nin some distant part of his dominions, with Mercia for its mistress, and\r\nhimself its secret owner, and constant visitor. How delightful! It\r\nshould be fitted up like fairyland itself, with every luxury, and every\r\nappliance for her comfort. Little children might play about his knees,\r\nof which there was poor prospect of ever seeing in his royal palace; for\r\nso far, the Empress had proved barren. Then he awoke from his dream to\r\nthe provoking reality of his true situation.\r\n\r\nThis pleasing reverie created, to some extent, a reaction in his mind.\r\nAs his temper cooled so did his courage to make this heinous charge\r\nagainst innocent persons: but he supported himself with the reflection\r\nthat at most the unfortunate men could receive no greater punishment\r\nthan a term of imprisonment.\r\n\r\nBy the time his carriage reached the prime minister\xe2\x80\x99s residence he had\r\ndecided what to say, for he had succeeded in inventing an excellent\r\nexcuse for his visit to the Observatory.\r\n\r\nHe realised that it was necessary to have his statement ready as to the\r\nprecise nature of the work he had requested his astronomer to prepare\r\nfor him, which through her neglect had caused the extraordinary scene of\r\nwhich the prince had been an accidental witness.\r\n\r\nAfter much cogitation he evolved the feasible explanation that he had\r\nrequested her to make calculations of each perturbation of the sun\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ncentre; and also to discover to what extent the additions of meteoric\r\nmatter to his body would affect solar heat. He desired this information\r\nin the interests of all his subjects, but especially in those of\r\nagriculturists, and fruit-culturists, whose crops had been ruined by the\r\ncontinuous cold seasons.\r\n\r\nUnder ordinary circumstances the Emperor would have obtained the\r\nattendance of any of his ministers without leaving his apartment; in one\r\ninstant the summons would have reached him, had the minister been there\r\nto receive it.\r\n\r\nHere was the difficulty, however, for delay increased the danger, and\r\nallowed the enemy an advantage; accordingly the Emperor chose the less\r\ndignified but safer course of calling in person on his minister.\r\n\r\nWhile Felicitas was relating his extraordinary account of the conduct of\r\ntheir astronomer and the subsequent treatment he had received from her\r\nfriends, Stonesack\xe2\x80\x99s countenance was a study to behold. At first he\r\nappeared profoundly astonished; this gave way to so many varying\r\nemotions that it was impossible to say what was going on in his mind, or\r\nguess what opinion he had formed of the affair. However, he listened\r\nvery gravely to the story, in which the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s powers of imagination\r\nhad been considerably called upon. And when the minister was pressed for\r\nan answer as to the best method of dealing with the delinquents, he\r\nhesitated considerably, coughed; looked very red; blew his nose, and\r\nfinished by saying he didn\xe2\x80\x99t know.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98At all events,\xe2\x80\x99 urged the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98this revolutionary Sadbag, ought to\r\nbe indicted for wickedly conspiring to undermine my reputation, and\r\nthereby bring me into my people\xe2\x80\x99s disfavour.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What about thy two astronomers, does thy Majesty desire to include them\r\nin the indictment?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Certainly,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98did not Mistress Mercia threaten my\r\nlife with her ebony life-preserver, and hath not Geometrus taken her\r\npart?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hath thy Majesty fully considered the merits of the case, that it be a\r\nsound one; otherwise it had better not be gone into publicly at all.\r\nWould it not be far wiser to administer correction to these foolish\r\npersons by requiring them to make an apology for their ill-behaviour?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That they will never do, I am assured! Their looks and language\r\nbetrayed their evil designs towards me. Get a warrant sent quickly, and\r\nput them in prison without delay\xe2\x80\x94even now they may be working me\r\ninfinite mischief.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It will come to a trial in that case. What will the nation say? Will\r\nthe people take thy word in preference to that of Mercia?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I care not what the people think! I know my own mind: I promised those\r\nseditious ones what to expect, and they shall not be disappointed,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nreturned the Emperor hotly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98As thy Majesty wills it: the warrant shall be made out and served\r\nto-morrow. It cannot be done more quickly. In the meantime thy Majesty\r\nwill have opportunity to sleep upon thy purpose, and if thy mind be\r\nchanged by morning send a message to that effect, I will keep in\r\nreadiness for it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Count not upon that! There is no other way of dealing with those\r\nwretched conspirators,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Felicitas moodily.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhile Felicitas was making his plans with the Prime Minister another\r\nmember of the Cabinet was listening with astonishment to Geometrus\xe2\x80\x99\r\nstory; for Geometrus having travelled to the city in his own electric\r\ncar made up for lost time by beating the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s horses in rapidity.\r\nConsequently, he arrived at the official residence of the Chancellor of\r\nthe Exchequer, or Minister of Finance, about the same moment as\r\nFelicitas at the Prime Minister\xe2\x80\x99s.\r\n\r\nBut Geometrus was not as well prepared with his statement as the\r\nEmperor. Moreover, he was unaccustomed at seeking audience of great\r\npeople, and when he was ushered into the reception-hall of Lord\r\nDivesdale he felt exceedingly shy, scarcely knowing how to state his\r\nerrand.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My lord,\xe2\x80\x99 said he, and then stopped short, and blushed violently.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Pray be seated,\xe2\x80\x99 said the minister in a kindly tone, for he was well\r\nacquainted with Geometrus, and had an excellent opinion of him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have somewhat to tell thy lordship,\xe2\x80\x99 he commenced anew.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What is it?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Divesdale as he sank back in his armchair, in\r\neasy attitude.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It concerns Mistress Mercia, the Astronomer Royal,\xe2\x80\x99 he managed to\r\nutter.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, whatever concerns Mistress Mercia interests me; for she holds my\r\ngood opinion,\xe2\x80\x99 observed the minister smiling, and giving Geometrus a nod\r\nof encouragement to proceed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I am heartily glad to learn that,\xe2\x80\x99 rejoined Geometrus, recovering\r\nhimself, \xe2\x80\x98for she stands in need of good assistance at this moment.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What is the matter\xe2\x80\x94has she met with any serious accident?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired the\r\nminister in alarm.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She has met with that which is infinitely harder to bear to one of her\r\npure mind, than any physical injury.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou speakest in riddles\xe2\x80\x94pray explain thyself?\xe2\x80\x99 returned his lordship a\r\nlittle sharply, for he was getting impatient.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My mistress has been grossly insulted by one who has taken advantage of\r\nhis high position,\xe2\x80\x99 Geometrus proceeded to say, but evidently with much\r\nreluctance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By whom\xe2\x80\x94Prince Osbert?\xe2\x80\x99 queried his lordship hastily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No, my lord, the Emperor himself,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Geometrus in a low voice,\r\nbut firm; the tones of which betrayed also the pain it cost him to make\r\nthe disclosure.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Emperor!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated Lord Divesdale in profound amazement.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The same,\xe2\x80\x99 Geometrus replied laconically.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How\xe2\x80\x94in what manner? Pray tell me in a reasonable way what thou knowest\r\nof it?\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Divesdale impatiently.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Emperor has been coming much of late to the Observatory. Last week\r\nhe made a journey thither ostensibly to talk astronomy with Mistress\r\nMercia. Yet I saw he looked annoyed at my entrance, and as if I had been\r\nan interruption to him. However, this day he came again, and as I was in\r\nthe city at the time, he obtained good opportunity to say all he\r\ndesired, presumably, for it finished with Mercia tearing herself out of\r\nhis grasp and threatening to take his life if he detained her further.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Prince Osbert, who had followed the Emperor to the Observatory for some\r\npurpose, entered the building at the same moment as myself, and we two\r\nsuddenly came upon the scene just as Mercia had opened the door of the\r\napartment to leave him. I looked into her face and saw it expressed the\r\nutmost scorn and indignation. \xe2\x80\x9cWhat is the meaning of this?\xe2\x80\x9d I asked,\r\nturning to the Emperor. \xe2\x80\x9cOh, nothing,\xe2\x80\x9d he replied; \xe2\x80\x9cshe has forgotten a\r\nduty, and I am upbraiding her.\xe2\x80\x9d \xe2\x80\x9cLiar!\xe2\x80\x9d exclaimed Mercia, \xe2\x80\x9cask thine\r\nEmpress to come hither, I have somewhat to tell her, and as for\r\nthee\xe2\x80\x94find some other to fill my post, for I am thine astronomer no\r\nlonger.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Notwithstanding Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s indignant refutation the Emperor persisted\r\nwith his charge against her of idleness, and disobedience to his\r\ncommand; when I told him plainly that the matter should be made subject\r\nof a public inquiry; for Mercia was too honourable and pure-minded to\r\ninvent a foul charge against anyone, least of all her royal master.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98At this critical moment who should emerge from a corner of the\r\napartment but Sadbag, the leading Radical member of Parliament? \xe2\x80\x9cI too,\r\nwill take care that this be seen into!\xe2\x80\x9d he exclaimed. At this, the\r\nEmperor fumed furiously, and declared that it was all a plot against\r\nhim, and he would have the three of us arrested for conspiring to defame\r\nhis character; and finished by calling it high treason.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How utterly absurd of him! But how did Sadbag come to be there so\r\nconveniently? it is as good as a comedy, by Jove!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He explained that he was first in Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s reception-room awaiting an\r\naudience of her, and by chance taking up a book he became so interested\r\nin it that he finished by falling asleep over it, so that the entrance\r\nof the Emperor, and a moment later of Mercia, he was quite unconscious\r\nof; a screen stood between him and them, consequently his presence was\r\nunperceived: and he only became aware of theirs when the Emperor in\r\nimpassioned tones pleaded his love suit with Mercia, who disdained it.\r\nBy that time Sadbag deemed it prudent to keep quiet, for he was getting\r\nmore than he bargained, when he ensconced himself in the huge easy chair\r\nnear the screen.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What a shocking old man to spy at a love scene! I wonder how he\r\ncontained himself so long!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Divesdale, who was bursting with\r\nmerriment, for he ever saw the comic side of a thing, however grave it\r\nmight be. \xe2\x80\x98The Emperor must apologise to fair Mercia, and to thee, too,\r\nGeometrus. Throw aside thy dignity, et cetera, and help to square this\r\npiece of business; it\xe2\x80\x99s no earthly use making a hue and cry over it. No\r\nlady cares to see herself a town talk! But this Sadbag\xe2\x80\x94what are we to do\r\nwith him? He truly is a sad bag of cranks! A piece of positive\r\nelectricity, seeking its own level, not considering consequences; or a\r\nflash of forked lightning ready to put one on toast; or a match in a\r\npowder-box ready to pop\xe2\x80\x94the man is in fact, too dangerous for anything.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He\xe2\x80\x99s the right man for the times! I\xe2\x80\x99m not going to put the stopper on\r\nhim. The Emperor must be made an example of,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Geometrus\r\nfiercely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I hope not, by Jove! the peace of the community would be permanently\r\nspoilt, if we all followed his example,\xe2\x80\x99 observed his lordship drily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I mean that the Emperor should be made a warning to all light-minded\r\npersons, in general, and monarchs in particular.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Quite so: the Emperor by our endeavours shall be made more particular,\r\nespecially in his treatment of the ladies.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And Sadbag is the right man to do it!\xe2\x80\x99 shouted Geometrus, who was\r\ngetting quite warm with the discussion.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He\xe2\x80\x99s a right man in the wrong hole! I mean he\xe2\x80\x99s got the Emperor in a\r\nqueer hole, and he won\xe2\x80\x99t let him out of it! The position doth wholly\r\ndelight him. He\xe2\x80\x99ll take a holy joy in \xe2\x80\x9ctaking it out of him,\xe2\x80\x9d or\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cputting him up a tree,\xe2\x80\x9d or making him eat humble pie, or what thou\r\nlikest! Oh, he\xe2\x80\x99s a sad dog or sadbag, I know not which, and no mistake!\r\nBut we must circumvent him.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have no desire to circumvent him; I would infinitely prefer to help\r\nhim. I do not regard this affair in the same light as thou, and could\r\nhave hushed it up without the aid of a Cabinet minister, for the Emperor\r\ndesired the same on the spot, offering me promotion, but I refused it on\r\nsuch terms,\xe2\x80\x99 interposed Geometrus with much spirit.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would that all men were as thou art, my friend, for then there would\r\nbe neither place-maker nor place-seeker. What a perfect Government we\r\nshould have; everyone seeking his neighbour\xe2\x80\x99s good to the detriment of\r\nhis own! The world indeed, would be too perfect for anything!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No fear of that as long as there are those who strive to cover up\r\nill-doing. I will seek Mr. Sadbag and get counsel of him, for it is very\r\nplain I can obtain no good advice from thee,\xe2\x80\x99 said Geometrus, who was\r\naltogether disgusted at the minister\xe2\x80\x99s light raillery, and rose from his\r\nseat to go away.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Stay, I hear familiar footsteps! One seeks admission whom I would see\r\nbefore thou leavest me,\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the minister, who despite all his\r\nplayful talk, knew how to act most wisely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Emperor! Sire, thy visit is well-timed; one moment, in private, I\r\nbeg,\xe2\x80\x99 and Divesdale conducted Felicitas into an inner apartment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I require thy help and advice in a most painful matter,\xe2\x80\x99 quoth the\r\nEmperor, turning very red in the face, but his speech was interrupted by\r\nthe minister in a very offhand manner.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sire, not another word, I have heard the whole story\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x99tis a frightful\r\nhobble, I must say. Truly a most diverting drama! Beats broad burlesque\r\nto bits! If society should get hold of this precious piece of scandal\r\nthy prestige will be ruined! An Emperor is a god, or at least, a\r\ndemigod, who should appear perfect before his people, whether he be or\r\nno. But, now, he must step down from his pedestal, and apologise, just\r\nto straighten things comfortably. Nay, it cannot be hard to kneel to a\r\ndeity, for Mercia is no less! All beautiful women are goddesses, let\r\ndown from the skies for our adoration: \xe2\x80\x99tis very plain they were created\r\nfor man\xe2\x80\x99s worship: away, then, and fall down upon thy knees and implore\r\nher mercy.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But she will not hear me,\xe2\x80\x99 cried the Emperor taken aback by this\r\nunexpected harangue; \xe2\x80\x98she is proud, haughty, and obdurate\xe2\x80\x94ah, thou\r\nknowest not Mercia!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The woman never breathed who could turn a deaf ear to the man who\r\nentreated her properly. Only kneel metaphorically, but talk to her\r\nprettily, and gaze into her eyes with tenderest pathos, and she will\r\nmelt with pure pity for thy condition.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I\xe2\x80\x99ve done it all!\xe2\x80\x99 blurted the Emperor unwittingly. \xe2\x80\x98I mean it\xe2\x80\x99s no\r\nuse, she is quite too hard-hearted to help me.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I was sure of it, Sire, thou hast done too much already,\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed\r\nDivesdale, with the audacity that is engendered of close intimacy. \xe2\x80\x98I\r\nwill myself entreat her to overlook thy naughty conduct, and thy charges\r\nagainst the two men must be withdrawn. By taking conciliatory measures\r\nthe thing may blow over; but otherwise it may prove very unpleasant for\r\nthy Majesty.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThus with his raillery, for the Emperor and he were familiar friends,\r\nDivesdale had discovered the truth; and now knew for certain what the\r\nother minister only guessed at.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Conciliatory measures!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated the Emperor, who had by this time\r\nrecovered himself, and who knew that he had already gone too far to be\r\nable to retract with any show of respectability, \xe2\x80\x98impossible! She\r\nthreatened my life, and my prime minister has commanded that a warrant\r\nbe issued for her detention.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Surely thy Majesty cannot be in earnest?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I never was more so,\xe2\x80\x99 the Emperor answered with an assumption of\r\nhaughtiness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What about Sadbag and Geometrus?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98They too will get served with the same sauce,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Felicitas, with\r\ntrue autocratic audacity.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Has the prime minister really advised this measure?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Divesdale\r\ngravely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have commanded it,\xe2\x80\x99 returned the Emperor sharply.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98On what grounds?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Conspiracy; the three had conspired to scandalise me, and take away my\r\ncharacter.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And they\xe2\x80\x99ll do it too!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Divesdale, with his characteristic\r\nimpulsiveness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98They shall have the opportunity of publicly doing what they were bent\r\non privately.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He has turned dotty, I\xe2\x80\x99m sure of it,\xe2\x80\x99 thought Divesdale, \xe2\x80\x98in a monarch\r\na little madness is a great danger. Well,\xe2\x80\x99 said he aloud, \xe2\x80\x98thy Majesty\r\nhath chosen thine own course and must abide by it, for I will wash my\r\nhands of the affair.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, wash away!\xe2\x80\x99 said Felicitas testily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thine action against the two men is illegal: no warrant for their\r\nimprisonment can be issued: their fault is merely libel, and all\r\nSovereigns are used to that!\xe2\x80\x99 interposed the minister drily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou makest a mistake there, friend,\xe2\x80\x99 answered the Emperor with a wise\r\nlook, \xe2\x80\x98remember my royal mother, Victoria the Second, who led such a\r\nvirtuous life and was so proud thereof, that when the \xe2\x80\x9cTimes\xe2\x80\x9d newspaper\r\npublished a paragraph announcing that she was about to marry her late\r\nhusband\xe2\x80\x99s father she was so scandalised thereby that she caused an Act\r\nto be passed decreeing that anyone who uttered a serious scandal against\r\nthe reigning Sovereign should be indicted for high treason, for she held\r\nthat the good name of the Sovereign should be considered as sacred as\r\ntheir person; under this Act, therefore, are these two scandalmongers to\r\nbe arrested.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, yes, I had forgotten it! But that trifle would not be scandal now.\r\nOnly twelve months ago thy hand signed an Act permitting thy subjects to\r\nmarry whom they will, save those in the first degree of consanguinity. A\r\nman may marry his grandmother now, if he choose!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Of course,\xe2\x80\x99 admitted the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98only he does not choose, as a rule.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is inadvisable from every point of view: nowadays one\xe2\x80\x99s grandmother\r\nattains such longevity that to marry her for her fortune, is like\r\nturning monk for a livelihood: a man\xe2\x80\x99s freedom arrives when \xe2\x80\x99tis not\r\nworth the having, for she goes on living until he becomes grey-headed.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98True! But this is not my business!\xe2\x80\x99 broke in the Emperor impatiently,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98let us discuss what more nearly concerns me. Can I count on thy good\r\nservice in this matter, or no?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Call a Cabinet Council,\xe2\x80\x99 suggested Divesdale, \xe2\x80\x98in the multitude of\r\ncouncillors we shall get wisdom,\xe2\x80\x99 he added, quoting from very ancient\r\nhistory.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor made a gesture of impatience at this sally, for he felt the\r\nminister was drawing him, and took his departure forthwith.\r\n\r\nThe thought instantly crossed the minister\xe2\x80\x99s mind that the affair would\r\nmake a very interesting plot for his next novel; for he was a favourite\r\nnovelist whose works were welcomed by the people for their merit, and\r\nnot because they were written by a popular minister of the State.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If we could only put the actual occurrences of life as they appear\r\nbefore our eyes into our works what rattling good stories we could\r\nwrite!\xe2\x80\x99 laughed Divesdale, as he threw himself into his easy chair for a\r\nsmoke and a soliloquy.\r\n\r\nIdeals of art and literature are as subject to change and remodelling as\r\nare theories of natural science, which are bound to give way as the\r\nlight of knowledge reveals little by little the true conditions of the\r\nmysteries of life and its environments. Accordingly literature-making\r\nhad its fashions; a reaction had taken place, and from the field of\r\nnovel writing which had been in the past almost entirely filled by lady\r\nwriters, these were now self-eliminated; women having successfully taken\r\nup the positions of historians, mathematicians, political economists,\r\nand expounders of natural and mental philosophies. So successful was the\r\nfemale in the writing of books designed for instruction that no male had\r\na chance in this walk of literature, unless he assumed a feminine\r\npen-name, and by this harmless subterfuge gain a reputation in spite of\r\nhis sex.\r\n\r\nScience as applied to manufactures had reached such perfection that the\r\nstones for building purposes were now manufactured, the stone quarries,\r\nas a matter of course, having almost given out. By a cunning admixture\r\nof chemically prepared material whose chief substance was composed of\r\nsilicious sand brought from the pathless deserts by electric motive\r\npower, at a comparatively small expense, this granular quartz, or flint\r\nunder certain conditions was reconverted into beautiful slabs of stone,\r\nof hard and enduring quality.\r\n\r\nIt was no uncommon sight to see whole streets, or terraces of handsome\r\nhouses built apparently of blocks of glittering granite which sparkled\r\nbravely in the sunlight: nor were these imitations confined to one sort,\r\nfor various marbles were so closely imitated, and withal so hard and\r\nenduring that the villas of the middle classes bore the appearance of\r\nveritable marble halls. Inside the walls were not papered, but finished\r\nwith a dressing of apparently beautiful marble, while a wainscoting of\r\nrichly embroidered silk velvet imparted an air of comfort to the rooms;\r\na by no means unwelcome addition, for the climate of England, like the\r\npoor, is always with us.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VII\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen Mercia retired to her private apartment she hardly knew whither she\r\nwas going. At first she entered her usual sitting-room, then suddenly\r\nshe made a turn and rushed into her bedchamber where making sure there\r\ncould be no interruption she gave vent to the sorrow and indignation\r\nthat filled her breast, in a passionate flood of tears. For even the\r\ntwentieth-century woman was not illachrymable, being in this respect\r\npretty much the same as the most remote of her feminine ancestors.\r\n\r\nIn a few moments, however, she recovered herself, and began to consider\r\nher situation, or rather her loss of situation, for she had\r\ninconsiderately thrown it up in the heat of her anger with the Emperor.\r\nNot for an instant did the thought cross her mind of withdrawing her\r\nresignation, or of making any attempt at reconciliation with the\r\nmonarch, whose utterly heartless and cowardly conduct filled her with\r\nintense contempt, and disgust. As soon as the tumult of her feelings had\r\nsubsided she returned to her sitting-room and wrote out her letter of\r\nresignation, wherein she explained in modest yet dignified terms her\r\nreasons for taking this step; expressing at the same time the terrible\r\nsacrifice it was costing her in thus throwing up a position which was so\r\nspecially adapted to her sympathies and pursuits, and of which there was\r\nno hope of obtaining an adequate substitute elsewhere.\r\n\r\nWhen the letter was completed she remembered Geometrus and wishful to\r\nsatisfy him by making him fully acquainted with her movements she put it\r\nthrough the copying press with a view of showing him its contents; then\r\nringing for a messenger it was despatched through the post without\r\ndelay, that it might be received in due order by the head of the\r\ngovernmental department.\r\n\r\nHaving gone thus far she began to feel more settled in her mind,\r\nsatisfied insomuch that she felt she had done the right thing in\r\nresigning a position which exposed her to the importunities of a patron\r\nwho had proved as unprincipled in purpose as he was sensual in\r\ninclinations. Then she began to torment herself with the reflection that\r\nshe had not proved such an icewoman as she had previously imagined\r\nherself to be. \xe2\x80\x98Yes,\xe2\x80\x99 she owned to herself, \xe2\x80\x98there was a moment when the\r\npower of his passion moved me, and I could have yielded to the seduction\r\nof the senses, pictured by him as the essence of love, until I\r\nremembered there was a barrier that might not be moved; no, not for the\r\nallurements of a century of deliciousness would I defraud another of one\r\niota of the affection which was sworn for all time to be hers.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have refused, perhaps, the crown of an Empress to take the lowly\r\ncondition of a poor scholar out of place; but I have remained true to\r\nmyself, and to my sex, and before all things have kept my heart and\r\nhands clean: I have earned the approval of my conscience, and my\r\nnight-pillow is not made restless with the self-torture of knowing I had\r\ninflicted an endless misery on another, and that other made like unto\r\nmyself; with all the capacities of suffering, having to drink daily of\r\nlife\xe2\x80\x99s bitterest mortifications.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But what a deadly traitor I have narrowly escaped\xe2\x80\x94what a contemptible\r\nmonster he has proved himself, to thus turn on me like an adder!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nHis threat of having her indicted for high treason gave her, however, no\r\nuneasiness, for it only inspired her with the utmost scorn. She\r\ndismissed it from her mind as having been on his part merely the outcome\r\nof ungovernable anger at being exposed before his enemy, as Sadbag\r\nundauntedly owned himself to be. How a man could express the most\r\nprofound attachment for her at one moment, and seek her destruction at\r\nthe next, seemed to her pure mind so monstrous and wholly unnatural that\r\nits possibility in her case was altogether out of the question.\r\n\r\nThat Felicitas would actually go the lengths of formally making such an\r\ninfamous accusation she could not bring herself to believe. Thus she sat\r\ndeeply pondering over the situation for at least two hours, unheeding\r\nthe passage of time in which startling doings were taking place in the\r\noutside world, when she was interrupted by a double announcement,\r\ndinner, and the advent of Sadbag.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98In a brown study, I see!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the old man as he entered the\r\napartment, \xe2\x80\x98can I be of any use to thee?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thrice welcome,\xe2\x80\x99 she answered quickly; \xe2\x80\x98this solitude is unbearable: I\r\nwas longing for some sympathising friend in whose ears I could pour\r\nforth my trouble.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou art in a queer quandary, certainly,\xe2\x80\x99 quoth Sadbag in gentle tones,\r\nwhich were not wanting in sly humour, \xe2\x80\x98nevertheless, there will be\r\nsomebody in a bigger by to-morrow morning.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To whom dost thou refer?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To Felicitas of course: the Emperor shall learn ere another twenty-four\r\nhours the opinion of the nation anent profligacy.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What hast thou done in this matter, Master Sadbag,\xe2\x80\x99 said Mercia\r\nanxiously, \xe2\x80\x98pray tell me, for only an hour ago I sent in my\r\nresignation?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sent thy resignation!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated Sadbag, \xe2\x80\x98why Mistress Mercia, there\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nno occasion for that! It is the Figure Head Felicitas who should resign;\r\nfor having no worthy occupation to fill his time he must needs get into\r\nmischief; in much the same manner as those empty-headed puppies who\r\ndawdle about the squares feasting their eyes on every comely woman who\r\nis on her way home from her office, or business. Down with the monarchy,\r\nI say, if this be all it is good for! Indeed, we have had enough of it.\r\nLook at the centuries of oppression that Russia has gone through! The\r\ncountry knew no real freedom until she shook off the thraldom of\r\ndespotism and all its concomitant tyrannies.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Mercia earnestly, \xe2\x80\x98Russia has attained the joys of a\r\nConstitutional Monarchy through rivers of human blood; devastating\r\nfloods of fire, and seas of darkest misery: is it indeed worth the cost\r\nof such terrible sacrifices?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No great victory has ever been achieved save at infinite sacrifice.\r\nTrue, it was a mighty one, but the result is worthy of it. The struggle\r\nwas long and severe; but greater severities have been put an end to\xe2\x80\x94the\r\ncruelties of oppression wrought upon millions of helpless beings, which\r\nwere accentuated by the conditions of civilisation and enlightenment\r\nthat surrounded them.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Civilisation and enlightenment are of no avail unless the heart be\r\ntrue, and the conscience good. If the moral nature be at fault what\r\navails the enlightenment of ages?\xe2\x80\x99 observed Mercia thoughtfully.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The occurrences of to-day is a case in point,\xe2\x80\x99 continued Sadbag; \xe2\x80\x98in\r\nall history have we a parallel instance of meanness, cruelty, and\r\ndownright dishonesty as this experience with the Emperor? But I have\r\ncome to give thee good tidings\xe2\x80\x94I think I have settled him. To-morrow the\r\nwhole world will ring of his doings. His hypocrisy, his deceit, and his\r\ncowardice will make him the object of detestation to all. The four\r\nquarters of the earth have got the story word for word, and we shall see\r\nwhat comes of it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sadbag, what hast thou done?\xe2\x80\x99 demanded Mercia with eyes of fire and\r\ncheek of flame.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Fear nothing, sweet lady, thy fair fame hath been kept guarded and\r\nunsullied by me. Not a word is given of which thou needest be ashamed.\r\nIn this recital thou art truly pictured; gentle, modest, and\r\nunsuspecting up to the point where knowledge is forced upon thee, and\r\nthe deceiver shows his hand. Then, the art of the seducer utterly fails\r\nin its purpose, for thine irreproachable virtue shielded thee as a coat\r\nof armour; thy sense of honour to thy fellow-woman was as a wall of\r\ndefence to thy shoulders, for thou didst refuse the most tempting\r\nblandishments rather than blight the happiness of a wife; albeit thou\r\nwert offered the crown of an Empress as the reward of thy dishonour. But\r\nwhat of thy letter of resignation; I wish I had seen it beforehand; for\r\nthe Emperor makes a bitter enemy, and will revile thee soundly to his\r\nministers?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I think I have made myself pretty clear,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Mercia, who had\r\nconsiderably calmed down by this time; \xe2\x80\x98here is a copy of my letter;\r\nread it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Good!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Sadbag as soon as he had finished perusing the\r\ndocument; \xe2\x80\x98this is fine! Canst thou trust it with me for one night and I\r\nwill return it to-morrow morning without fail?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Seeing thou hast done so much already,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Mercia in a weary tone\r\nof voice, \xe2\x80\x98there can be no harm in giving it thee to make what use thou\r\nmayest choose. But, listen, here comes Geometrus\xe2\x80\x94I will invite him to\r\ndine with us, and we three will discuss the matter together.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAt the next moment Geometrus had entered the apartment, and startled the\r\ntwo with the look of painful concern on his countenance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why so glum, my friend?\xe2\x80\x99 cried Sadbag cheerily; \xe2\x80\x98this is but a passing\r\ncloud which will be carried away presently by the fair breezes of public\r\nopinion. No one can hurt thee, or Mercia: I cannot say so much for\r\nmyself, for indeed I have meddled considerably in this business, and\r\nnobody knows how it will turn out for me. But ye twain are innocent\r\nvictims, and have naught to fear in this advanced period of the world\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nhistory. Truth and justice should prevail in the dawn of the\r\ntwenty-first century, if ever it is to prevail at all on this earth. Ah,\r\nI wonder if anything approaching perfection can ever be reached here!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Our present day litt\xc3\xa9rateurs,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Mercia, \xe2\x80\x98felicitate themselves\r\nthat we are in the enjoyment of such an advanced civilisation as the\r\nworld has never seen in the past, or possible to attain in the future.\r\nBut thou, Sadbag, seest much to improve in the political arena, and I\r\nsee much to be discovered in the world of Nature. We have still to learn\r\nhow to rule the elements. As yet, the winds and the storms, and the\r\nwaters, are our masters. The time will arrive when these shall be our\r\nservants to come and go at our will. The rains it is true now water the\r\nearth at our desire, but soon the winds shall be dispersed by our art,\r\nand the heaving waves of the ocean shall be made subservient to our\r\nwill; not by the wand of the sorcerer, but by the hand of that more\r\nwonderful magician\xe2\x80\x94Science. When man has made Nature to obey his behests\r\nthen that extraordinary time shall have arrived that the prophets\r\ndreamed of in the far off ages, which they symbolised by the metaphor of\r\nthe lion and the lamb lying side by side. This, indeed, is the true\r\nmillennium for which all may ardently pray; for it is the earth-glory\r\nawaiting the planet-dwellers of our sun\xe2\x80\x99s system, yea, of every star\r\nsystem throughout the whole of the vast universe.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia paused, and looked at her friends, as if inquiring if she might\r\nproceed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Go on,\xe2\x80\x99 said Sadbag, \xe2\x80\x98we delight to listen to thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, it is all very wonderful! The field of science possesses still\r\nuntrodden paths: mystery upon mystery are yet to be made clear; the\r\nhidden secrets of psychology are still in darkness; we know not of what\r\nstuff we are made. What is soul\xe2\x80\x94what is mind? We cannot definitely\r\ndefine them: we know only the manner in which these express themselves\r\nto our physical nature: the spiritual is wrapped in impenetrable\r\nmystery. How is it that one man utters the truths of a prophet, and\r\nanother can hardly be made to understand what is going on before his\r\neyes? Of course it is a difference in brain-power, the physiologist\r\ntells us, but how is it that a more or less quantity of grey\r\nbrain-substance can give inspiration, knowledge, genius, power,\r\nimagination, and even prescience? Who can answer that? When this\r\nquestion is solved then is the chief millennium reached.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Let me have a word now,\xe2\x80\x99 said Sadbag, whose eyes glistened with the\r\nenthusiasm that inspired him for the moment; \xe2\x80\x98when the insignia of\r\nRoyalty is done away with; when kings are a luxury of the past, and\r\nEmperors are persons of bygone history; when liberty and equality are\r\nrecognised everywhere; when exorbitant taxes are no longer levied on the\r\npoor; when society recognises the duty of honesty and purity towards\r\neach other, and the golden rule is abided by, then is the millennium!\r\nEach of us has his goal, his ideal; this is my ideal, and this is the\r\nreligion I would have preached by the expounders of faiths, and of\r\ndoctrines. Scientific discoveries are being made step by step, first\r\nthis experiment, and then that. One man finds a glint of light, and\r\ntheorises on it, and he passes away, and another takes it up and\r\nexamines it further, and presently discovers a wider field of vision,\r\nand he has dreams of its utilisation, but they end there; and a third,\r\nhaving had an excellent foundation to start with, finishes by\r\ndiscovering how to apply the knowledge to useful purposes, and gains the\r\nreward; for the first sowed, and the last reaped; and he will give his\r\nname to the invention, and will be hailed as the great genius, the true\r\ndiscoverer.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Mercia in reply to her guest, as seated at table she\r\ndispensed her hospitalities with thoughtful care, \xe2\x80\x98they are all links in\r\none great chain, one following the other in due order, displaying a\r\ncomplete system, which is governed by fixed laws, that may not be\r\ntransgressed without penalty. But, say, Geometrus,\xe2\x80\x99 uttered Mercia\r\nanxiously, \xe2\x80\x98how has it fared with thee\xe2\x80\x94why art thou so melancholy?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I cannot help it,\xe2\x80\x99 he answered, sighing deeply the while; \xe2\x80\x98a great\r\nmisfortune is overshadowing the three of us.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia regarded him earnestly. \xe2\x80\x98What is it?\xe2\x80\x99 she asked.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s threat, I\xe2\x80\x99ll be bound!\xe2\x80\x99 growled out Sadbag.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The same,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Geometrus gloomily; \xe2\x80\x98I have just come from\r\nDivesdale, the Minister of Finance, who was having converse with the\r\nEmperor upon the subject, and he tells me Felicitas is bent upon\r\npunishing us, yea, the whole three\xe2\x80\x94even Mercia is not to be spared.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yea, rather he is working the punishment that\xe2\x80\x99s to fall on his own\r\npate!\xe2\x80\x99 laughed Sadbag contemptuously. \xe2\x80\x98When the proper time comes I\r\npossess indisputable proof to show in open court of the truth of my\r\nstatement, which will place that of Mercia beyond doubt also; and thou,\r\nGeometrus, being only an accessory in the affair, and not a chief actor,\r\nwhen we are cleared thou wilt be also. Be assured this bogus prosecution\r\nwill be promptly stopped unless we insist on its full development.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And where wilt thou obtain all this convincing evidence? There\xe2\x80\x99s naught\r\nbut our bare word to support our statements: the highest potentate of\r\nthe realm and the policeman can never swear falsely?\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Mercia,\r\ncynically, who was awakening to the gravity of the situation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98We shall be arrested to-morrow, at latest,\xe2\x80\x99 interpolated the young man,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98the warrants are being made out at this moment.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Capital!\xe2\x80\x99 shouted the elder man, slapping his knee exultingly, \xe2\x80\x98I\r\nwouldn\xe2\x80\x99t miss the scene at the trial for a kingdom!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, Sadbag, thou art horrid!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Mercia deprecatingly, \xe2\x80\x98I shall\r\nnever survive the disgrace of it!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Say, rather, thou wilt be too shy to survive the honour of it! Mercia,\r\nmark me, the day of thy trial will be the dawn of thy glory. Truth will\r\ntriumph this time, notwithstanding the world\xe2\x80\x99s wickedness. The words of\r\nour ancient Solomon shall be verified\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x9cA virtuous woman is as a crown to\r\nher husband,\xe2\x80\x9d et cetera;\xe2\x80\x99 and Sadbag looked slily at Geometrus, for an\r\nirrepressible humour was ever bubbling up within him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But I haven\xe2\x80\x99t a husband,\xe2\x80\x99 murmured Mercia, blushingly, \xe2\x80\x98so how can I\r\nthus adorn him?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The man and the opportunity are awaiting thee: the one at thy elbow,\r\nthe other looming near,\xe2\x80\x99 explained Sadbag archly.\r\n\r\nIt was Geometrus\xe2\x80\x99s turn to blush now, which he did most becomingly,\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98If\r\nSadbag means me,\xe2\x80\x99 he faltered out, \xe2\x80\x98I would fain be the man, I confess;\r\nbut where is the opportunity? It seems to me that it was never so\r\ndistant as at present, and it was at all times too far to give hope.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Modesty doth well become youth, but it is ill-placed in cases of the\r\nheart. He that is daring gains the goal, but the fainthearted gives up\r\nthe race. It is true ye twain are in a predicament, having lost your\r\nappointments, but you are no worse off than if this misfortune had never\r\nbefallen you, for marriage would have brought a like result. I propose,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nSadbag proceeded to say, \xe2\x80\x98that thou Geometrus shalt ask Divesdale for\r\nthe appointment of Head of the Royal College of Natural Science, where\r\nthou wilt have power to appoint all its various professors, and\r\nlecturers. As astronomy is one of the principal subjects taught, give\r\nMercia the post of Chief Astronomical Lecturer, which carries no bar to\r\nmarriage. Now isn\xe2\x80\x99t that plan most excellent! I flatter myself it is a\r\ncapital thought!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It\xe2\x80\x99s splendid, yet it possesses a fault!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Geometrus, whose\r\nspirits began to rise at the bright prospect held before him; \xe2\x80\x98could not\r\nMercia ask Divesdale for the appointment of Principal, and give me the\r\nsubordinate position of Professor?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Whichever way you two choose to put it,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Sadbag merrily; \xe2\x80\x98after\r\nall, when I come to consider it I believe Mercia would stand the better\r\nchance with the minister; the nation at large, too, would be more\r\nsatisfied, as she hath renown and much goodwill of the people.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I feel as if I were already installed, and am longing to award places\r\nof honour to all my friends,\xe2\x80\x99 broke in Mercia sweetly. \xe2\x80\x98What post, dear\r\nSadbag, can I give thee? Political Expounder, or Professor of Economics?\r\nName the article and it shall be forthcoming; for I fain would testify\r\nmy gratitude for the honest goodwill thou dost show me.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I want naught for myself,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the old man with a comic shake of\r\nthe head, \xe2\x80\x98but I have a grand-daughter ready to leave school whom I\r\nwould wish to enter the said College as a student. It would much oblige\r\nme if thou wouldst examine her and judge for which science she is best\r\nfitted. She must select one subject and bottom it thoroughly; I think\r\nchemistry to be the most preferable.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Chemistry!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated Mercia smiling, \xe2\x80\x98why my dear sir, that\xe2\x80\x99s a very\r\nbig order, for it possesses several important branches, each one a study\r\nof itself. One should be selected, and then there\xe2\x80\x99s a possibility of\r\nimparting something useful to thy grand-daughter. Nowadays no one has a\r\nchance of success if he attempt too much\xe2\x80\x94this is the day of the\r\nSpecialist!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It isn\xe2\x80\x99t every day one has a chance of a good talk with a lady of such\r\nrenown as thee, so I will benefit myself by taking the opportunity,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nremarked Sadbag in a tone of great content; \xe2\x80\x98I have a grandson also,\r\nwhat shall I do with him?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How old is he?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Geometrus, who thought it was time to put in\r\nan oar.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sixteen, and as comely a youth as ever was seen. But he has no liking\r\nfor abstruse studies, and it is little use sending him to college with\r\nhis sister. Can you suggest something that is likely to prove agreeable\r\nto his cast of mind?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Article him to a marble manufacturer,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Geometrus eagerly; \xe2\x80\x98it\r\nis the grandest trade going. We want marbles and granites for every\r\nbuilding, nowadays; we cannot obtain enough of them. There is plenty of\r\nscope for further invention, for instance, porphyry has not yet been\r\nsuccessfully imitated but in appearance only, for it is too brittle for\r\nany purpose necessitating strength and durability. A new \xe2\x80\x9cStone Age\xe2\x80\x9d is\r\ndawning, for not a brick will be used save in the cottage of the\r\npoorest. Our large towns and cities will present greater beauty than\r\nclassic Italy saw in its best days; for they will be filled with\r\nsplendid halls and residences built apparently of various rare and\r\ncostly marbles, designed in high artistic form and stately structure.\r\nWhat a wonderful age we are coming to, when the distant sands of Sahara\r\nare brought to our shores and reconverted to their original solidity! It\r\nis like a fairy tale of ancient days this transformation of the crumbled\r\nrock of ages to the original compactness of solid blocks of glittering\r\nstone. Who is the sorcerer of the modern time? The Geological-Chemist.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Diamond making is as nothing compared with this useful manufacture, for\r\nit converts the ugliness of cheap brick buildings into the beauties of\r\npalaces. Even the sea sand on our own shores are cleansed and united\r\nwith chemically prepared material, and made to form a hard and\r\nimpenetrable silicious stone, more enduring than what it was in its\r\npristine solidity.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nSadbag looked serious as Geometrus dilated on the usefulness of\r\nGeologic-chemistry; then he remarked\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98I imagined that chemistry had\r\nattained its limits, and further improvements in manufactures\r\nimpossible, almost, but I see with your eyes, Geometrus, and quite\r\nunderstand that the world is still in its infancy, although it believes\r\nit is acquainted with everything already.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98So they thought a hundred years ago!\xe2\x80\x99 observed Geometrus laughingly;\r\n\xe2\x80\x98the people of that time actually imagined they had scaled the extreme\r\nheights of knowledge and there was nothing left to learn. But hark!\xe2\x80\x99 he\r\nexclaimed in an excited undertone, \xe2\x80\x98there\xe2\x80\x99s a ring at the great door\xe2\x80\x94who\r\ncomes at this hour? Is it the warrants, I wonder! It is. There are the\r\npolice,\xe2\x80\x99 continued he as he rose and looked through the window, \xe2\x80\x98and the\r\npolice-van ready to accommodate us! Oh, Mercia is it possible that thou\r\nmust suffer this degradation?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98SHE SHALL NOT!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Sadbag vehemently, \xe2\x80\x98as long as there\xe2\x80\x99s a\r\nbreath left in this body of mine. My first thought was to fly,\xe2\x80\x99 he\r\ncontinued hurriedly, \xe2\x80\x98on account of this copy of her letter which I was\r\nabout sending to the Press for publication; but I will hide it in this\r\nvase instead, and get my solicitor to fetch it away afterwards; for I\r\nwill now stand my ground for Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s sake. She shall be conveyed to\r\nprison in her own carriage, or not at all, there\xe2\x80\x99s no law to hinder\r\nthat, I warrant. We three shall all go together, but I would have\r\npreferred my liberty a little longer for I have much to do before\r\ngetting my incarceration.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hide behind the screen again!\xe2\x80\x99 whispered Mercia, \xe2\x80\x98no one knows thou art\r\nhere; it is easy enough to do; and thou canst report upon the manner in\r\nwhich I am treated, if need be\xe2\x80\x94dost understand?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Perfectly, I will do it, and come out if I see necessary,\xe2\x80\x99 agreed the\r\nold man with a roguish beam in his eyes, while he slipped behind in a\r\ntwinkle. He had no sooner disappeared than the constables entered the\r\napartment, which they did in a somewhat hesitating manner. Evidently,\r\nthey did not at all relish their work, for the inmates of the\r\nObservatory, as well as the place itself inspired them with respect.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why this intrusion on a lady in her private apartment?\xe2\x80\x99 demanded\r\nGeometrus haughtily; for he considered they ought to have remained in\r\nthe entrance hall, until their errand was explained.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What is your wish?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Mercia in quiet tones.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mistress, I have brought with me a document, an ugly document, truly,\r\nto show a lady, and to such a one as thou it is indeed vexatious to have\r\nthe handling of it. Nevertheless, it has been entrusted to me, and\r\nobedience is the first great principle of all order. Therefore, very\r\nunwillingly, I confess, I call upon thee in the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s name to\r\nsurrender thyself\xe2\x80\x94here is my authority,\xe2\x80\x99 and he held out the warrant for\r\nher perusal, still keeping his hold of it. When she had finished, she\r\nstood for a moment thinking, whereupon he stepped forward to lead her\r\naway, when Mercia falling back a little, drew herself up haughtily, and\r\nexclaimed\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Touch me not, fellow, I will leave this house of mine own\r\naccord when I am fully prepared for my journey, for I must attire myself\r\nsuitably before going into the night air, also my carriage must be made\r\nready for me.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98We have brought the ordinary police-van by special order of the\r\nEmperor, we dare not let any other be used,\xe2\x80\x99 interpolated another\r\nofficer, for there were three of them.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The police-van for _me_!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated Mercia indignantly, \xe2\x80\x98and by the\r\nEmperor\xe2\x80\x99s orders too! What has the Emperor to do with the administration\r\nof the law? I refuse to obey such an order.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And rightly so,\xe2\x80\x99 interjected Geometrus hotly, then turning with furious\r\nface upon the constables, he added\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98This lady goes with you in her own\r\ncarriage, or not at all.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What is that to thee?\xe2\x80\x99 returned the sergeant of police sharply, \xe2\x80\x98a\r\npretty person to lay down conditions to us, and dictate how we are to\r\nperform our duty, seeing thou art in the same boat thyself. Here is the\r\nwarrant for thy apprehension; and get thee ready quickly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If you touch her, any of you, against her will, I will strike him dead\r\nwith my electric dagger!\xe2\x80\x99 shouted Geometrus, who was beside himself with\r\nanger.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98There are more daggers than thine, young man,\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed one of the men\r\nroughly, as he rushed towards Geometrus with his handcuffs opened ready\r\nto clasp them in an instant; but Geometrus was too quick for him, and\r\ntripping the constable with his foot, the latter staggered to the ground\r\nawkwardly, while the handcuffs were dashed out of his grasp with a deft\r\nblow from Geometrus. Then the other two constables springing to the aid\r\nof their fellow took hold of Geometrus, one at either side, and a\r\ndesperate struggle was about to commence, but at this juncture out\r\nrushed Sadbag from his hiding place exclaiming\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Why all this bubbery, ye\r\nidiots, what matters it what sort of vehicle you use for their\r\nconveyance so that you get your prisoners safe in quod? That is enough\r\nfor you! Let the lady go as she will, and no more nonsense about it,\r\notherwise I will make it pretty hot, both for you and your masters,\r\nafterwards.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Now this is mighty convenient!\xe2\x80\x99 said the sergeant dryly, for he held\r\nthe warrant for Sadbag as well; \xe2\x80\x98we want thee also, my good fellow, and\r\nthou hast saved us much trouble by popping out to lecture us; thou\r\ncouldst not repress thy speechifying instincts, even to save thy\r\nliberty! I arrest thee, Joseph Sadbag, in the name of the Emperor\r\nFelicitas! Here is my authority,\xe2\x80\x99 and he pulled out of his side pocket\r\nthe document for Sadbag\xe2\x80\x99s perusal.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, I know all about it,\xe2\x80\x99 answered the old man testily, \xe2\x80\x98I am willing\r\nenough to become thy prisoner only let it be done quietly and decently,\r\nfor the Emperor will have sufficient to answer for without adding\r\nfurther insult to this lady. He has already done that which will disgust\r\nevery decent minded person in his realms.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Let him take charge of his own business; \xe2\x80\x99tis his affair, and I will\r\nperform mine,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the sergeant doggedly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98You might come to a compromise,\xe2\x80\x99 pleaded Sadbag in insinuating tones,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have saved you heaps of labour, trouble and exertion in lying in\r\nwait, and watching for me all over London by unexpectedly dropping\r\nmyself into your hands. Show your gratitude, my friends, by letting\r\nMistress Mercia take her seat in her own carriage, and one of your\r\nconstables may accompany her, while this gentleman and myself will go in\r\nthe police-van, with the remaining two of you, and we will pass our word\r\nof honour not to overpower you, and seek to escape. Now are you\r\nsatisfied?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Very well,\xe2\x80\x99 agreed the sergeant gruffly, \xe2\x80\x98we will take the offer\xe2\x80\x94only\r\nmake haste!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is quite dark outside, Geometrus,\xe2\x80\x99 observed the old man, \xe2\x80\x98no one\r\nwill be any the wiser as to who are the occupants of the van: I don\xe2\x80\x99t\r\nmuch matter it myself\xe2\x80\x94nevertheless, I will sue the Government for damage\r\nto my reputation, for this act will accentuate the situation.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I care not for myself one whit,\xe2\x80\x99 returned the younger man in a pained\r\ntone; \xe2\x80\x98but I am heartily glad thou hast succeeded in saving Mercia such\r\nan unnecessary disgrace.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I hope we shan\xe2\x80\x99t be kept a month of Sundays in our cells, for I am\r\nsimply dying to make my _d\xc3\xa9nouement_ in court,\xe2\x80\x99 whispered Sadbag to his\r\nfriend, as he nimbly tripped down the broad staircase that led to the\r\nentrance hall, with the policemen following at their heels.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98For the life of me I can\xe2\x80\x99t imagine what thou art driving at\xe2\x80\x94what the\r\ndeuce is thy _d\xc3\xa9nouement_?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Geometrus impatiently.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Qui vivra verra!\xe2\x80\x99 laughed Sadbag lightly; \xe2\x80\x98\xe2\x80\x9cHe that lives longest sees\r\nmost;\xe2\x80\x9d I mean to create a diversion in court.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98A diversion!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated the young man in dismay.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Well, maybe that\xe2\x80\x99s not exactly the word for it; I am not a flowery\r\nphraser: I mean to create an impression that may prove a diversion, or a\r\nlesson, an example, a warning, a farce, a terror, a maxim, a moral, a\r\nproverb, a motto; a subject for comic cuts, for high art paintings; for\r\npulpit sermons, stump orators, parsons, preachers, and petticoats to\r\nmoralise on; \xe2\x80\x99twill be a lesson to perjurers, profligates, and\r\nhypocrites, generally; and at the finish each will say to his\r\nneighbour\xe2\x80\x94What a capital dodge, I wonder no one ever thought of doing\r\nthat before!\xe2\x80\x99 and the old fellow rubbed his hands in high glee, at the\r\nthought of his plan, the success of which he felt would amply repay him\r\nfor all the inconveniences of his most inopportune confinement.\r\n\r\nBy this time Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s carriage was in readiness, for it only required a\r\nfew minutes\xe2\x80\x99 attention to put it in working order, and soon the\r\nquartette, each under the influence of his own emotions, watched the\r\nlight barouche roll quickly along the smooth macadamised roadway, for\r\nonly heavy trams and waggons used the rails with which the principal\r\nstreets and roads were provided, lighter vehicles not requiring such\r\naids to locomotion.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Farewell, my Mercia,\xe2\x80\x99 the young man had whispered in her ear, just\r\nbefore turning on the force; for the driver had taken the steering gear;\r\n\xe2\x80\x98be strong and of good hope, Sadbag is our saviour, we have nought to\r\nfear with his clear head and true heart to help us.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Surely the gods will help their own sister!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Sadbag\r\ngallantly, as he raised his hat in making a last adieu. \xe2\x80\x98Wait till the\r\nlucky bag is presented thee for a dip, and thou wilt see what a prize\r\ncomes to thy hand!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98As atom unto atom firmly lies,\r\n Obeying blindly that great law which makes\r\n Subservient even lifeless matter; wakes\r\n An energy, a force, whose hidden ties\r\n Bind animate or inanimate in wise\r\n True, order.... Thus are we twain commingled....\xe2\x80\x99\r\n _Idylls, Legends and Lyrics._\r\n\r\n\r\nPerhaps the most wonderful of all the discoveries of this period was\r\nthat of psycho-magnetic sympathy, or psychic-energy, which was found to\r\npervade the nerve-centres of all human beings, in a greater or lesser\r\ndegree. In all ages the unseen bond that linked mankind together, with\r\nmore or less hidden force, had baffled the researches of psychologists,\r\nand physiologists to such a degree, that at length the pursuit was\r\nabandoned, and left for Charlatans to play with.\r\n\r\nEach epoch of the world\xe2\x80\x99s history saw the development of some absurdity;\r\nbut these were in reality the fructification of the seedling; or infant\r\ngropings after that higher knowledge which evidence the spiritual\r\naspirations of the human soul.\r\n\r\nIn the very early stages of man\xe2\x80\x99s history we find him in full belief of\r\nfairies, gnomes, and hobgoblins, which eventually ripened into a\r\nliterature and folklore dealing with their doings, of quite ample\r\ndimensions. And after all, who would like to make away with those\r\ndelightful stories that inspired his imagination in childhood\xe2\x80\x99s days,\r\nfilling his mind with awe and wonder, while yet it was all receptive,\r\nand when credulity was paramount?\r\n\r\nThen followed the belief in the wizards, witch, and magician, who were\r\nheld to have gotten their supernatural powers from the arch-magician,\r\nSatan, himself: and every ill that nature sent humanity was ascribed to\r\nthe infernal agency of witchcraft.\r\n\r\nIn these days handsome incomes were occasionally realised by courtly\r\nmagicians who unfolded the future to the high-born ladies that invoked\r\ntheir aid. Did not Anne Boleyn see her future husband in the magician\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nmirror, when quite a girl, and as yet she knew nothing of him? The scene\r\nof a masked ball in which King Henry the Eighth was the central figure,\r\nand all the people paying him courtly homage, was found reflected in the\r\nmagic mirror, and the monarch pointed out as her future husband. Still\r\ntime went rolling onwards bringing its developments of man\xe2\x80\x99s highest\r\naspirations\xe2\x80\x94the desire to fathom that mystery of which he caught but a\r\nglimmering.\r\n\r\nThen followed Mesmer\xe2\x80\x99s discovery to which was attributed certain\r\npsychological developments; these the Charlatan utilised to his own\r\nadvantage by claiming the power of second sight for some fair sleeper\r\nwhom he always took care to be provided with.\r\n\r\nSide by side with mesmerism grew another new idea which went infinitely\r\nfurther than the mesmerised thought-reader. It was named Spiritualism,\r\nthe votaries of which professed to call up at will the departed spirits\r\nof friends, enemies, and even of persons unknown to them in life.\r\n\r\nThis new faith, for it developed into a religion seeing that once a\r\nperson got thoroughly soaked with it he wanted no church to teach him\r\nthe way to Heaven, he believing he had found a more direct passage than\r\nwhat all the parsons in Christendom could show him.\r\n\r\nRevelations from Spirit-land were sought not only by the lower, and\r\npartially educated classes, but also by the educated members of society;\r\npractical business men being found in considerable numbers attending\r\nspirit-rapping circles. Even the editor of the _Times_ newspaper in 1880\r\nwas claimed by the Spiritualists to be one of them.\r\n\r\nEventually, Spiritualism becoming unpopular by reason of its adoption by\r\nthe ignorant, together with the numerous exposures of fraud on the part\r\nof its leading exponents, a new belief was found necessary for the\r\nintellectual and cultured ones of the nineteenth century.\r\n\r\nThis was borrowed from the East, the beliefs of Ancient India being\r\npressed into service and made to appear under a new form and given the\r\ntitle of Theosophy.\r\n\r\nThe whole series of superstitions under whatever name they might\r\nappear\xe2\x80\x94witchcraft, fortune-telling, mesmerism, spirit rapping, Mahatma\r\npower, or the new-fangled faith of Theosophy, were in reality the deep\r\nworkings of the human mind, striving to fathom the secrets of nature.\r\n\r\nThe physiology and psychology of the twenty-first century explained it.\r\nIt was indeed, simple enough, for everything is easy when you know it.\r\n\r\nIt was found that a subtle fluid somewhat of the nature of electricity,\r\nwhich was altogether imperceptible to sight, but whose presence was\r\nindicated by a very delicate gauge called a psychometer pervaded the\r\nnerve centres of all human beings. It imparted to them such a highly\r\nsensitive condition that wherever the fluid was in great abundance it\r\ngave to its possessor a corresponding amount of attraction, or influence\r\nover others.\r\n\r\nThe influence of this essence was not limited to a short distance, for\r\npropinquity was not altogether necessary for its action; for a highly\r\nendowed person could throw out an invisible stream of psycho-magnetic\r\nsympathy that would find its way for hundreds of miles till it reached\r\nthe corresponding fluid of the person desired, causing such a\r\ndisturbance in his nerve-centres that immediately he would commence\r\nthinking of his friend, mistress, or acquaintance, as the case might be.\r\n\r\nFrom this cause came into being that well known saying\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Talk of the\r\nDevil and he\xe2\x80\x99s sure to show himself.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe poet in every age, although knowing nothing of physiology, being\r\nendowed with a superabundance of this wonderful essence, divined its\r\nexistence, calling it the unseen chains that bound humanity together.\r\n\r\nIn fact, this was the source from which the true poet, novelist, orator,\r\nand thought-reader derived his power. All these were endowed bountifully\r\nwith this subtle energy, putting it to the use for which their\r\nindividual talents led them.\r\n\r\nThe actress who nightly enchained her auditory by her clever\r\nimpersonation of some ideal character, did not owe her triumph solely to\r\nthe influence of her splendid rhetoric, or histrionic art, but mainly to\r\nthis force which she unconsciously scattered broadcast around her, the\r\nwaves of which being caught up by the innumerable nerve-centres, which\r\nresponded with ready receptivity.\r\n\r\nThe same force, but of a higher order, and more spiritual essence fired\r\nthe imagination of the poet, giving him burning words, and tender\r\nsympathies that found their way into every heart.\r\n\r\nIt inspired him also with prophetic insight; giving him the power of\r\nseeing into the very heart of things, whether of the past, present, or\r\nfuture. The ancients saw this and averred that poets are born not made;\r\nfor it was owing to the highly sensitive quality of this psychic-energy\r\nthat he possessed his gift of poesy.\r\n\r\nIt comes into the life of a few to meet with some exquisitely charming\r\nwoman who excites love and admiration wherever she turns. All who come\r\nin contact with her unite in declaring her to be the sweetest woman that\r\never lived. No one can definitely tell you why she exercises so much\r\ncharm over him; she is admittedly not more beautiful, nor more talented\r\nthan others; nevertheless, she casts some indefinable, yet irresistible\r\nspell over all around her. Something unfathomable, unknowable dwells in\r\nher countenance, giving it an expression that haunts you. She sees into\r\nyour very heart, as it were; she knows exactly what to say, and what to\r\ndo to please and gratify you.\r\n\r\nShe utters your thought for you, expressing it so beautifully and\r\nperfectly that you are delighted with yourself, for she throws such a\r\nglamour over you that you imagine you have given the happy expression to\r\nthe idea. What is this power she wields with such fascinating force? It\r\nis the subtle fluid that is unconsciously emanating from her. This\r\nsecret, unseen energy profoundly stirs every nerve within you, sending\r\nthrills of pleasure through your frame, and imparting warmth and life,\r\nand love to all who come within its influence.\r\n\r\nLittle children love her, and nestle in her skirts; not only the animals\r\nof her own household, but the strange dog and cat look at her with\r\nlonging eyes, wishful for the pat, and kind word that will certainly be\r\ngranted. Each living thing feels the subtle influence and acknowledges\r\nit unhesitatingly. Sickness and suffering can hardly diminish it, for\r\nonly death itself can annihilate it.\r\n\r\nThe orator holds his audience spell bound apparently, by his splendid\r\neloquence; the whole audience which may consist of several thousands are\r\nmoved by one great emotion. Every pulse beats as one; only one feeling\r\npervades that vast assembly\xe2\x80\x94perfect union of thought with the speaker.\r\nHe is exercising a spell over the multitude powerful as that of the\r\nmagician.\r\n\r\nThe following day the speech appears in cold print, and strange to say,\r\nthere is nothing very remarkable about it. What was it that produced\r\nsuch deep emotions in the breast of that great concourse of people?\r\n\r\nIt was the wonderful influence of the speaker\xe2\x80\x99s personality; it was the\r\nabundant psychic-energy that spread itself in thought-waves all through\r\nthe multitude, making their hearts glow and swell with happiness.\r\n\r\nSuch are the men who win great battles, for their soldiers are ready to\r\nrush into any danger under the influence of their leader\xe2\x80\x99s powerful\r\nsoul-energy. Mark how these great warriors attract women. He who fights\r\nwell, loves well, all chroniclers know that fact, and the unseen\r\nmind-force with which Nature has so lavishly endowed him, gives him the\r\nsuccessful conquest of women\xe2\x80\x99s hearts, equally as of men\xe2\x80\x99s.\r\n\r\nAt this time thought-reading was a perfected science, and only those\r\nendowed with an extraordinary gift of psychic energy could pose with any\r\nmeasure of success as a professional.\r\n\r\nSo great was the perfection reached in this branch of science that a\r\nprofessor of thought-reading was expected to describe not only the\r\nthought of the inquirer, but also reveal the thoughts and motives of the\r\nperson who formed the subject of the inquiry. Nothing less than this\r\ncould satisfy the soul of the twenty-first century individual.\r\n\r\nOnce the Professor was placed _en rapport_ with the person to be\r\nanalysed and reported upon, he was expected to give every particular of\r\nhis life, habits, attainments, thoughts and actions. In point of fact,\r\nhe had to keep a mental diary of the watched man\xe2\x80\x99s doings. Woe betide\r\nthe silly swain who tried to run two sweethearts; if one of them grew\r\njealous she had but to tell her case to the thought-reader, and with a\r\ngood fee set his brain agoing, when soon she would be in possession of\r\nevery particular of her lover\xe2\x80\x99s perfidy.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the presence of this essence in all persons was clearly\r\ndemonstrated and established, it became the ambition of the food-chemist\r\nto discover some phosphate that would increase the supply that nature\r\nhad given already. Numerous were the nostrums proposed for which were\r\nclaimed the power of imparting an augmented supply to man.\r\n\r\nThe newspapers teemed with advertisements of these tabloids, some of\r\nwhich were frequently headed with the legend \xe2\x80\x98YE ARE NOT MEN BUT GODS!\xe2\x80\x99\r\nAnd indeed, if the virtues of these chemical preparations attained only\r\nhalf what was claimed for them, men would have been nearly gods by this\r\ntime. For the inherent desire of man to obtain power, by whatever name\r\nit might be known, prompts him to accept any theories that promise this\r\ndesirable gift.\r\n\r\nFor a time large fortunes were accumulated by the manufacture of\r\npsychic-energy tabloids; enterprising chemists rivalling each other in\r\nthe production of the most excellent. Notwithstanding all these\r\ndeserving efforts on the part of mankind to raise himself, he remained\r\npretty much the same as nature formed him, save by the slower processes\r\nof evolution.\r\n\r\nOf all the persons who laid claim to the gift of thought-reading there\r\nwas none so highly sensitive as the great Anglo-Indian, Dayanand Swami.\r\nIt was said of him that he almost lived upon a wonderful elixir of his\r\nown manufacture, the preparation of which had been handed down to him\r\nfrom his Mahatma forefather some generations back.\r\n\r\nIn the solitude of the Indian jungle a hundred years previously his\r\nfore-elder had discovered this wonderful plant, which not only\r\nphysically sustained him to a great extent, but furnished him with an\r\nextraordinary supply of the mystic fluid.\r\n\r\nThis ancient Mahatma was literally saturated with wisdom, without going\r\nthrough the painful processes that men of that class are usually\r\ncompelled in the attainment of their ascetic ambition. By the agency of\r\nthis psychic gift he could unfold, without having read its history, the\r\nglories of India in its ancient days; describing the magnificence of its\r\nrulers; their pomp; their immense retinues, which were on such a scale\r\nthat the passage through his dominion by their Sovereign caused a famine\r\nin the parts traversed. Only two classes existed in those good old\r\ntimes, the very rich and the very poor.\r\n\r\nHe could conjure up pictures of the workmen dropping down dead from\r\nhunger and exhaustion who were engaged upon the erection of the\r\nloveliest mausoleum that the world has ever seen; more like an exquisite\r\nmarble palace of fairy land than a resting place for the dead. Art had\r\nindeed attained its highest perfection in those far off days, the\r\nmonuments of which the Eastern still gazes upon with pride and\r\naffection.\r\n\r\nOr he could project his thought till it reached the mind of ministers in\r\nEngland, when he could produce a mental negative, so to speak, of the\r\nthought of the ministers respecting the policy they intended carrying\r\nout which would affect India; for it was only on the occasion of some\r\ngreat national question stirring the mind of the people that he cared to\r\nput out his thought in this direction.\r\n\r\nMoreover, he possessed the power of seeing into futurity, for he\r\nforetold that in one hundred years India would have her own supreme\r\nSovereign, one who would be of their own unbiassed choice, who lived\r\namong them, and studied the happiness of her people. One who was loved\r\nand reverenced throughout the world. Whose rule would bring honour,\r\ndignity and renown to their beautiful and beloved India; and this\r\nunrivalled potentate would be a woman, young, beautiful and talented.\r\n\r\nNew, this prophecy of the old Mahatma could not refer to Victoria, the\r\nfirst English Empress of India, for she was gathered to her forefathers\r\nat that time, and King Albert, the First, reigned in her stead.\r\n\r\nThe descendant of this wonderful Mahatma resided in London, his father\r\nhaving been appointed by Government to the post of Collector, a position\r\nof some importance in the Civil Service. But the son elected to follow a\r\nprofession that was more in accordance with the traditions of his\r\nancestors, and at the same time would supply a want in his own\r\ngeneration, that was called into existence by the exigencies of the\r\ntimes.\r\n\r\nThe worn-out theories of Theosophy which deemed nirvana the highest\r\nattainable condition of the human soul, had no attraction for him; but\r\nhe regarded it with some amount of reverence, inspired by the traditions\r\nof an ancient religion, which cannot fail to cast a halo round it, even\r\nwhen discarded by the more advanced modern.\r\n\r\nDayanand Swami surrounded himself with the gorgeous luxuries of an\r\nEastern prince, although dwelling in the English metropolis, and\r\ndisplayed his Eastern descent, by following Eastern customs as far as\r\nEnglish conventionalities would permit. Nevertheless, he kept in touch\r\nwith the times, accommodating himself to the requirements of the people\r\namong whom he had made his home.\r\n\r\nThe carriages of titled ladies might have been seen daily at his door;\r\nfor love troubles, and court troubles disturbed the peace of great dames\r\neven in the twenty-first century.\r\n\r\nNative servants waited obsequiously on these noble visitors who formed\r\nchiefly his _client\xc3\xa8le_, and whose rich fees sustained the splendours of\r\nhis household.\r\n\r\nUpon the arrival of a visitor the great door would be folded back,\r\nrevealing a courtyard arranged in a style of true Eastern magnificence.\r\nThe floor was formed of mosaics of elegant design cut from costly\r\nmarbles. Shrubs, flowers, and trees of exotic birth filled convenient\r\nparterres, while a fountain played its crystal waters in feathery spray,\r\ngiving the scene a refreshing sense of coolness. Birds of beautiful\r\nplumage disported themselves amongst the trees, adding colour, as well\r\nas life to the picture. The tiny humming-bird, like a moving flower-bud\r\nhung on the branches of beautiful shrubs, or basked in the sunshine of\r\nthis artificial Eastern clime; for the whole was covered with a high\r\ndome of glass of considerable area, which was supported by graceful\r\npillars of manufactured marbles erected in regular succession. The\r\ntropical temperature obtained by the conservation of solar heat, being\r\nevenly sustained the year through, independently of the changes of\r\nweather.\r\n\r\nThe apartments within were arranged in similarly luxurious style. The\r\nwalls were hung with crimson satin, embroidered richly in gold, but the\r\ncolours were varied according to the character of the apartments.\r\n\r\nWhile the wall draperies of one room were composed of crimson satin,\r\nthose of another were pale blue, another yellow, and so on, all of which\r\nwere embroidered in richest hues, intermingled with gold. The couches\r\nand curiously carved stools were upholstered in rich materials that were\r\nin character with the decorations of the walls, and window draperies;\r\nwhile Persian carpets of the softest velvet pile sank like turf beneath\r\nthe tread.\r\n\r\nCostly ornaments of Eastern manufacture adorned the side tables, or were\r\narranged on beautifully carved ivory brackets; while native Japanese\r\npaintings, encased in richest frames gave the _tout ensemble_ a\r\ndecidedly oriental appearance. The picturesque delineations of the Jap,\r\nwhose ideas of art were totally different from those of the Western\r\nworld, made their paintings real curiosities to the English mind. These\r\nrepresented lovers in nearly all stages of the _grande passion_ seated\r\nin Japanese teahouses, or holding loving converse beneath the shade of\r\nluxurious trees, whose branches seemed to reach the deep blue skies. In\r\nanother apartment portraits of great Eastern potentates, celebrated\r\nHindus, and venerable Mahatmas gave the English visitor an idea of the\r\nformer prestige of the Indian Empire.\r\n\r\nIn the lady\xe2\x80\x99s withdrawing-room containing the Japanese pictures, strains\r\nof sweetest music were set agoing at will, given apparently by a\r\nstringed band of automatic performers, made to imitate an orchestra of\r\nlittle men; who looked excruciatingly comic, as they moved their arms up\r\nand down, and waved about their funny little heads. The whole\r\narrangement was set in motion by the same energy that gave heat to the\r\napartments, conservatory, and cooking apparatus.\r\n\r\nIn his \xe2\x80\x98room of contemplation,\xe2\x80\x99 or studio, was daily seated at stated\r\nhours the highly gifted Swami, surrounded by his \xe2\x80\x98silent servants\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x94his\r\nbooks of Eastern lore. Tier upon tier of carved framework contained\r\nworks from the most remote antiquity, dating backwards nearly four\r\nthousand years; and so on, through all the centuries, till quite\r\nup-to-date literature of the various epochs was represented. Rare\r\nmanuscripts of the ancient Rig Veda, with plays, love stories, and\r\nfables, together with works on medicine, philosophy, mathematics,\r\nastronomy, and magic arts, all of very ancient date, filled the shelves\r\nof the library. While gorgeously-bound volumes of poetry, part of which\r\nwere in the original Sanskrit, and part translated into English, were\r\nstrewed on the elegantly designed coffee-tables, or stands, with which\r\nthe drawing-room was furnished.\r\n\r\nHere is a graphic description of the drought in an Indian summer, taken\r\nfrom a poem by K\xc3\xa2lidh\xc3\xa2sa, of great antiquity, entitled\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\r\n _The Ritu-Sanhara, or, The Seasons._[1]\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Now the burning summer sun\r\n Hath unchallenged empire won;\r\n And the scorching winds blow free\r\n Blighting every herb and tree.\r\n Should the longing exile try,\r\n Watching with a lover\xe2\x80\x99s eye\r\n Well-remembered scenes to trace\xe2\x80\x94\r\n Vainly would he scan the place,\r\n For the dust with shrouding veil\r\n Wraps it in a mantle pale.\r\n\r\n Lo, the lion,\xe2\x80\x94forest king\xe2\x80\x94\r\n Through the wood is wandering;\r\n By the maddening thirst opprest\r\n Ceaseless heaves his panting chest.\r\n Though the elephant pass by\r\n Scarcely turns his languid eye\r\n Bleeding mouth and failing limb,\r\n What is now his prey to him?\r\n\r\n Where the sparkling lake before\r\n Filled its bed from shore to shore,\r\n Roots and twisting fibres wind,\r\n Dying fish in nets to bind;\r\n There the cranes in anguish seek\r\n Water with the thirsty beak.\r\n\r\n Elephants all mad with thirst\r\n From the woods in fury burst:\r\n From their mountain-caverns see\r\n Buffaloes rush furiously.\r\n With hanging tongue and foam-fleck\xe2\x80\x99d hide,\r\n Tossing high their nostrils wide,\r\n Eager still their sides to cool\r\n In the thick and shrunken pool.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nFootnote 1:\r\n\r\n Translated by Griffiths.\r\n\r\nHere is an equally graphic description of rain, from the same poem:\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Who is this that driveth near,\r\n Heralded by sounds of fear?\r\n Red his flag the lightning\xe2\x80\x99s glare\r\n Flashing through the murky air.\r\n Pealing thunder for his drums\xe2\x80\x94\r\n Royally the monarch comes.\r\n See! he rides amid the crowd,\r\n On his elephant of cloud\r\n Marshalling his kingly train:\r\n Welcome, oh, thou lord of rain.\r\n Gathered clouds, as black as night\r\n Hide the face of heaven from sight:\r\n Sailing on their airy road\r\n Sinking with their watery load.\r\n See, the peacocks hail the rain,\r\n Spreading wide their jewelled train,\r\n They will revel, dance and play\r\n In their wildest joy to-day!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nComing down to a period as late as the twelfth century of our era were\r\nworks representative of the Hindu poet of that time. Here is a\r\ntranslation of a poem, a pastoral drama, by Jayadeva, of which it is\r\nsaid \xe2\x80\x98the exquisite melody of the verse can only be appreciated by those\r\nwho can enjoy the original Sanskrit.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nKrishna, the herdsman, loves R\xc3\xa2dh\xc3\xa2, the shepherdess, but has wandered\r\nfrom her to amuse himself with other maidens. Nanda, Krishna\xe2\x80\x99s foster\r\nfather, gives her warning, saying:\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Go, gentle R\xc3\xa2dh\xc3\xa2, seek thy wand\xe2\x80\x99ring love;\r\n Dusk are the woodlands,\xe2\x80\x94black the sky above.\r\n Bring thy dear wanderer home, and bid him rest\r\n His weary head upon thy faithful breast.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen R\xc3\xa2dh\xc3\xa2 makes anxious search for him, pressing through forest and\r\ntangled bushes, until a friend tells her in sheer pity that Krishna will\r\nnot be found in lonely forest shades, and thus sings to her:\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98In this love-tide of spring, when the amorous breeze\r\n Has kissed itself sweet on the beautiful trees,\r\n And the humming of numberless bees, as they throng\r\n To the blossoming shrubs swells the kokila\xe2\x80\x99s song:\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98In this love-tide of spring when the spirit is glad,\r\n And the parted, yes, only the parted, are sad;\r\n Thy lover, thy Krishna is dancing in glee\r\n With troops of young maidens forgetful of thee.\r\n Dispensing rich odours the sweet madhav\xc3\xae\r\n With its lover-like wreathings encircles the tree;\r\n And oh, e\xe2\x80\x99en a hermit must yield to the power\xe2\x80\x94\r\n The ravishing scent of the malika flower.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Saffron robes his body grace;\r\n Flowery wreaths his limbs entwine;\r\n There\xe2\x80\x99s a smile upon his face,\r\n And his ears with jewels shine.\r\n In that youthful company,\r\n Amorous felon! revels he;\r\n False to all\xe2\x80\x94most false to thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIn the end Krishna, although faithless for a time, discovers the vanity\r\nof all other loves, and returns with sorrow and longing to his own\r\ndarling R\xc3\xa2dh\xc3\xa2.\r\n\r\nIn Swami\xe2\x80\x99s library were books containing collections of Hindu stories\r\nthat had been handed down for hundreds of years, and repeated orally by\r\neach generation until at length various collections were made by native\r\n_litt\xc3\xa9rateurs_, which sometimes were given very fanciful titles. Indeed,\r\nHindu literature supplied the whole world with its stories, even the\r\nPersians stole from it considerably.\r\n\r\nThe following is an ancient Sanskrit love story by an author of repute,\r\nof the name of Subandhu. The chief beauties of this tale lie in its\r\nalliterations, double meaning of phrases, and puns, which bristle\r\neverywhere, all of which are of necessity lost in the translation. The\r\nplot is peculiar.\r\n\r\nA king who lived somewhere on the Ganges, was a follower of Siva, and\r\nruled his kingdom so admirably that impiety was unknown, proof by ordeal\r\nnever needed, and violence never practised.\r\n\r\nThis king had a son, who was the delight of all who sought his\r\nprotection, his sagacity always securing him from deception. His\r\nreligious feeling was shown by marked devotion to cows, and to Brahmans;\r\nand being comely as the god of love, (who by the way is furnished with\r\nhis bow and arrows, showing that the idea may have been borrowed by the\r\nancient Greeks,) he was admired by all maidens, far and near. The\r\nextraordinary fact, was however, that the maiden with whom alone he fell\r\nin love, was one that appeared to him in a dream.\r\n\r\nHe longed to dream again, but the fervour of his emotion prevented\r\nsleep.\r\n\r\nHe shut himself up in solitude, and refused nourishment. Then a faithful\r\nfriend persuaded him that travelling might bring relief. They pursued\r\ntheir way to the Vindhya Hills; the sun was about to set as they entered\r\na wilderness.\r\n\r\nThe friend collected roots and fruits, and the young prince fell asleep\r\non a couch, made up of branches from the trees; but not for long. For he\r\nwas awakened by the conversation of two birds who nestled in the jambu\r\ntree above him.\r\n\r\nThe female bird was reproaching the male for coming home so late,\r\nfearing that he must have been dangling after some other _sarik\xc3\xa2_. The\r\nmale bird replies solemnly that he has been attending to a transaction\r\nmost unprecedented.\r\n\r\nHe then relates that in the city of Kusumapura, (probably Patna) there\r\nis a lovely princess, named, Vasavadatt\xc3\xa2. Being of full age, the king,\r\nher father, invited \xe2\x80\x98the high-born heirs of many principalities,\xe2\x80\x99 that\r\nshe might choose a husband.\r\n\r\nThe suitors came, and the damsel took her place upon a da\xc3\xafs to survey\r\nthem; but no one pleased her, and she and they withdrew in\r\ndisappointment.\r\n\r\nAt night, the young prince who had fallen in love with her in a dream,\r\nappeared to her in a vision; and she felt at once that he was her\r\ndestined husband.\r\n\r\nThe vision made known his name, which was Kandarpaketu; but she suffers\r\ntorments of love and grief from not knowing how to meet with him.\r\n\r\nUnder these circumstances her confidante volunteers to go in search for\r\nhim, and says the bird, she arrived here when I did, and is at this\r\nmoment beneath our tree.\r\n\r\nThe lovesick prince no sooner heard this welcome intelligence than he\r\nintroduced himself to the confidante, talked with her for twenty-four\r\nhours, (much too long, one would think) and then went with her to\r\nKusumapura.\r\n\r\nHere he found the lovely Vasavadatt\xc3\xa2 in a garden-house of ivory. On\r\nseeing each other they faint for joy, and afterwards rehearse their past\r\nsufferings.\r\n\r\nThe confidante speaks for the princess, and says that \xe2\x80\x98if the heavens\r\nwere a tablet, the sea an inkstand, the longevous Brahma an amanuensis,\r\nand the king of serpents the narrator, only a trifling part of those\r\nagonies could be told.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThey next resolve on what we should call a \xe2\x80\x98runaway match;\xe2\x80\x99 and this\r\nthey effect by mounting a magic steed which carries them to the Vindhya\r\nforests in the twinkling of an eye. They sleep soundly in a bower of\r\nflowery creepers, but when the sun is at meridian height the prince\r\nawakes, and finds Vasavadatt\xc3\xa2 missing. He bitterly laments and wonders\r\nwhat can have caused so dreadful an affliction. Poor Vasavadatt\xc3\xa2 having\r\nbeen the first to awaken, and seeing her bridegroom looking pale and\r\nemaciated, for the sickness of love had greatly reduced him, hastened\r\naway to gather fruits and food to restore him. In the midst of this\r\nloving occupation she was surprised by huntsmen and so frightened that\r\neventually she lost her way, and found herself unable to return to her\r\nsorrowing bridegroom. After many dangers and difficulties were gone\r\nthrough the prince at length discovers her; she is conducted back to his\r\nfather\xe2\x80\x99s palace, and they live in the greatest love and happiness ever\r\nafter.\r\n\r\nCarved upon the oak panels that lined the walls of Dayanand Swami\xe2\x80\x99s\r\n\xe2\x80\x98room of contemplation\xe2\x80\x99 were Sanskrit texts taken from THE RIG VEDA, the\r\nancient Hindu Scriptures;\r\n\r\nThe portions selected had reference chiefly to the sun; the light of day\r\nbeing considered typical of the light of learning. The following are the\r\nEnglish rendering of these short quotations from four thousand years old\r\npoems.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98HIS COURSERS BEAR ON HIGH THE DIVINE, ALL-KNOWING SUN THAT HE MAY BE\r\n SEEN BY ALL WORLDS.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98AT THE APPROACH OF THE ALL ILLUMINATING SUN THE CONSTELLATIONS DEPART\r\n WITH THE NIGHT, LIKE THIEVES.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98HIS ILLUMINATING RAYS BEHOLD MEN IN SUCCESSION LIKE BLAZING FIRES.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98THOU OUTSTRIPPEST ALL IN SPEED; THOU ART VISIBLE TO ALL; THOU ART THE\r\n SOURCE OF LIGHT; THOU SHINEST THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE FIRMAMENT.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98THE DIVINE SAVITRI DISPLAYS HIS BANNER ON HIGH, DIFFUSING LIGHT\r\n THROUGH ALL WORLDS.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98CONTEMPLATING ALL THINGS, THE SUN HAS FILLED HEAVEN AND EARTH AND THE\r\n FIRMAMENT WITH HIS RAYS.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98THE TREMULOUS RAYS OF THE SUN THROW OFF THE DARKNESS, WHICH IS SPREAD\r\n LIKE A SKIN OVER THE FIRMAMENT.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98OH, DIVINE SUN, THOU PROCEEDEST WITH MOST POWERFUL HORSES, SPREADING\r\n THY WEB OF RAYS AND CUTTING DOWN THE BLACK ABODE OF NIGHT!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThese texts being carved in the original tongue\xe2\x80\x94Sanskrit\xe2\x80\x94Swami\xe2\x80\x99s English\r\nvisitors were very little the wiser for having gazed upon them. Indeed,\r\nmany persons imagined them to convey some deep mystic meaning that the\r\ngreat man would have been most unwilling to reveal. After all, if they\r\ncould have looked over his shoulder and have seen how he spent his\r\nmoments of relaxation, they would have discovered him perusing sundry\r\nvery harmless works in his native language, for even collections of\r\nfables and fairy tales, which was a favourite form of literature in the\r\nEast, served occasionally to relieve the weariness of his tired brain.\r\n\r\nHere is a story of a Jaina ascetic, taken from a work named \xe2\x80\x98The\r\nPanchatantra,\xe2\x80\x99 a collection of fables and tales that long ago found\r\ntheir way into Persia. N\xc3\xbbsh\xc3\xaerv\xc3\xa2n, the King of Persia sent a physician to\r\nIndia in search of medical knowledge and books; the physician not only\r\nbrought back medical books, but collections of fables also, which, being\r\ntranslated into Pehlevi went forth to the world as the fables of Pilpay.\r\n\r\nThe book opens by stating that a certain king was concerned at finding\r\nthat his sons were growing up without knowledge. He called a council at\r\nwhich the necessity of acquiring knowledge was discussed, and also the\r\nlength of time required for the acquisition of such kinds of knowledge\r\nthat was considered indispensable.\r\n\r\nThe conclusion at which the councillors arrived was that the king must\r\nbe advised to entrust his sons to a Brahman named Vishnusarman, who\r\nundertook to teach them n\xc3\xaeti in six months. This being arranged,\r\nVishnusarman took the young princes to his house, and composed for their\r\nbenefit a series of fables\xe2\x80\x94the \xe2\x80\x98Panchatantra,\xe2\x80\x99 so called from \xe2\x80\x98pancha,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nfive, and \xe2\x80\x98tantra,\xe2\x80\x99 section\xe2\x80\x94namely, five narratives. They are stories\r\nwithin stories, woven most intricately one within the other; here is a\r\nshort one, treating of the cunning ascetic.\r\n\r\nA certain king who reigned in Ayodhy\xc3\xa2, the capital of Kosala, sent his\r\nminister to subdue a rebellion among some of the Rajahs in the hills.\r\nWhilst the minister was absent a religious mendicant came to Kosala, who\r\nby his skill in divination, his knowledge of hours, omens, aspects, and\r\nascensions; his dexterity in solving numbers, answering questions, and\r\ndetecting things covertly concealed, and his proficiency in all similar\r\nbranches of knowledge, acquired such fame and influence that it might be\r\nsaid he had purchased the country, and it was his own.\r\n\r\nThe fame of this man at last reached the king, who sent for him, and\r\nfound his conversation so agreeable that he wanted him constantly beside\r\nhim. One day, however, the mendicant did not appear, and when he next\r\ncame, he accounted for his absence by stating that he had been upon a\r\nvisit to Paradise, and that the deities sent their compliments to the\r\nking. The king was simple enough to believe him and was filled with\r\nastonishment and delight.\r\n\r\nHis admiration of this marvellous faculty so engrossed his thought, that\r\nthe duties of his state and the pleasures of his palace, were equally\r\nneglected.\r\n\r\nBut after awhile his minister returned, having subdued the king\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nenemies in the hills, and is amazed and disgusted to find his king in\r\nclose conference with a naked mendicant, instead of occupying himself as\r\nformerly with his appointed duties.\r\n\r\nHe quickly ascertains the pretensions of the ascetic, and asked the king\r\nif what he had heard of the mendicant\xe2\x80\x99s celestial visit was true.\r\n\r\nThe king assured him that it was, and the ascetic offered to satisfy the\r\ngeneral\xe2\x80\x99s apparent scepticism, by departing for Swarga in his presence.\r\n\r\nWith this intent the king and his courtiers accompanied the Sramanaka to\r\nhis cell, which he entered, and closed the door.\r\n\r\nAfter some delay, the general asked the king when they would see him\r\nagain. The king answered, \xe2\x80\x98Have patience, on these occasions the sage\r\nquits his earthly body and assumes an ethereal form in which alone he\r\ncan enter Indra\xe2\x80\x99s heaven.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If this be the case,\xe2\x80\x99 said the general, \xe2\x80\x98let us burn his cell, and thus\r\nprevent his reassuming his earthly body; your majesty will then have\r\nconstantly an angelic person in your presence.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nTo reconcile the king to this mode of proceeding the general tells him a\r\nstory which has reference to the serpent, or N\xc3\xa2ga tribes of ancient\r\nIndia.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98A Brahman named Devasarman had no child, which denial made his wife\r\nmiserable. At length, however, owing to some mystic words, a son is\r\npromised, but what was the surprise of the mother, and the horror of the\r\nattendants, when the child so eagerly desired proved to be a snake.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The assistants wished to destroy the monster, but maternal affection\r\nprevailed, and the snake was reared with all possible care and\r\naffection.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98At the proper age the mother entreated her husband to provide a\r\nsuitable wife for their son. He said he would if he could gain admission\r\nto Pat\xc3\xa2la, where Vasuki, the Serpent King, reigns over the N\xc3\xa2gas, and\r\nmight grant such a request.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But his wife was so distressed that to divert her thoughts he consented\r\nto travel. After some months they arrived at a city in which a Brahman\r\noffered his own beautiful daughter as a wife for the serpent.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The girl consented to the marriage and performed her duties admirably.\r\nAfter a time her serpent-husband changed one night into a man, intending\r\nin the morning to reassume his serpent form: but the girl\xe2\x80\x99s father\r\ndiscovering that the snake body was abandoned, seized the deserted skin\r\nand threw it into the fire.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The consequence of which was, that his son-in law ever remained in the\r\nfigure of a man, to the pride of his parents, and the happiness of his\r\nwife.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAfter hearing this narrative the king no longer hesitated. The\r\nmendicant\xe2\x80\x99s cell was set on fire; the mendicant perished in the flames,\r\nand the king was as his general desired, released from the thraldom of a\r\ncunning ascetic.[2]\r\n\r\nFootnote 2:\r\n\r\n From \xe2\x80\x98Ancient and Medi\xc3\xa6val India.\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x94_Manning._\r\n\r\nWhen Swami was a boy, his youthful imagination was fired by these\r\nancient Hindu stories, but the one which tended most directly in forming\r\nhis ambition, giving him the desire to become a mind-reader, was the\r\nfollowing, taken from the \xe2\x80\x98Vetala-Panchavinasati;\xe2\x80\x99 or, \xe2\x80\x98Twenty-five\r\nTales told by a Vet\xc3\xa2l.\xe2\x80\x99 A Vet\xc3\xa2l may be the spirit of a deceased person,\r\nor that of a living person who enters the body of another, leaving its\r\nown, and taking possession of that of a corpse.\r\n\r\nA certain Brahman, named Shantil, gave up the world and lived in the\r\nwoods as a hermit, or ascetic. He had already become a magician by\r\nYogi-practice. But ordinary magic did not meet his full ambition. He\r\ncoveted universal superhuman power; and for this he required the\r\nco-operation of an able pupil, carefully instructed, who should be\r\nqualified to assist in the sacrifice of a specially indicated human\r\nbeing.\r\n\r\nWhilst Shantil pursued his ascetic practice, and sat cross-legged,\r\nYogi-fashion, in his forest dwelling, a severe famine occurred in the\r\ndistrict of Delhi, or near Hastinapura. The distressed inhabitants\r\ndispersed in search of food, and a Brahman, whose wife had died of\r\nhunger, wandered with his two sons, who had not yet attained manhood,\r\ninto what is called a foreign country.\r\n\r\nAfar off they perceived a \xe2\x80\x98forest surrounded by various trees, loaded\r\nwith ripe fruits; the symmetry, the neatness, and the admirable order of\r\nthe trees, and the abundance and diversity of a thousand sorts of\r\nfruits,\xe2\x80\x99 proved most captivating to the hungry men.\r\n\r\nPresently they found themselves in front of an edifice, stately as a\r\npalace, although built with common materials. Within sat the dreadful\r\nmagician Shantil.\r\n\r\nTo the weary wanderers he merely appeared as a holy ascetic; seated on\r\nthe customary sacred darbha grass, and holding in his hand the usual\r\nstring of holy beads, which consists of one hundred and eight of the\r\nbeautifully carved nuts, or seed vessels of the Eleocarpus, here called\r\nin Sanskrit Rudr\xc3\xa2ksha. The travellers approached prostrating themselves,\r\nand showing all imaginable reverence.\r\n\r\nShantil returned their salutation, and inquired the object of their\r\njourney. Having heard their story he turned to the father and said: \xe2\x80\x98Oh,\r\nBrahman, be not afraid: I will take care of your sons until the famine\r\nis over: but on one condition, that you give me one of your boys,\r\nwhichever you like.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe father, feeling he had no alternative, consented to the arrangement,\r\nand after feasting on dainties for three days, he embraced his sons with\r\nmany tears, and departed. Shantil was a magician skilled in all arts and\r\nsciences: nothing, indeed, was unknown to him.\r\n\r\nHe lost no time in setting the boys tasks to exercise their faculties,\r\nand prepare them also for the acquisition of magic.\r\n\r\nHe soon ascertained that the younger boy had the higher capacity, and of\r\nhim he determined to possess himself: he never, therefore, allowed him\r\nto go out of his sight. He taught him grammar, divinity, law, astronomy,\r\nphilosophy, physiognomy, alchemy, geography, the power of transferring\r\nthe soul to a dead body; the giving it animation, and several other\r\narts, amongst which was included astrology, or the art of foretelling\r\nfuture events. In short, the law which prescribes that a preceptor shall\r\nteach all that he knows to his pupil, if he be wise, and desirous of\r\nknowledge, was fully obeyed.\r\n\r\nIn this case, the diligent and accomplished preceptor, was striving to\r\nsecure an accomplice in a pupil. But, cunning as he was, he outwitted\r\nhimself; for wishing that the father should prefer the elder lad, he fed\r\nhim plentifully, and clothed him handsomely, whilst he kept his younger\r\nand more promising pupil half starved, and poorly clad.\r\n\r\nAs might be expected, the younger pupil became in consequence anxious to\r\nescape, and being already master of the science which prognosticates\r\nfuture events, he perceived that the famine had ceased, and that his\r\nfather was coming to claim one of his sons and carry him home.\r\n\r\nHe knew also, that his father would be most attracted by his elder\r\nbrother, who looked fat, and was covered with jewels. Making use,\r\ntherefore, of his power of transporting himself to distant places, he\r\nwent to his father, and revealed to him the wicked character and\r\nintentions of the Yogin, and obtained a solemn promise that his father\r\nwould choose him, and not his decorated brother, as the son to be taken\r\nhome.\r\n\r\nThe father duly arrived at the hermitage, and though he experienced much\r\ndifficulty he at length induced the Yogin to part with his gifted pupil,\r\nand with him he went away.\r\n\r\nBut the father and son had not proceeded far before the son felt certain\r\nthat his tyrant was in pursuit, and for protection he felt it necessary\r\nto change himself into a horse. At the same time, he charged his father\r\nto sell him at a neighbouring fair; but for no consideration to part\r\nwith him to anyone in whose presence he should neigh, or paw the ground.\r\n\r\nAs the young man apprehended, so it happened. Shantil, the Yogin,\r\ntracked them, and discovering the disguise presented himself at the\r\nfair, and offered so large a sum that the father, dazzled by the sight\r\nof an enormous heap of gold, sold his son to his dreaded enemy.\r\n\r\nIn vain the poor horse had neighed, over and over, and pawed the ground\r\nto show his displeasure at the sale, but this only confirmed Shantil in\r\nhis desire to have him, so that the money-loving father was prevailed\r\nupon to sell him.\r\n\r\nShantil then rides his captive back to his hermitage keeping him under\r\nsevere restraint: but after a few days the imprisoned horse is able to\r\nmake himself known to his brother, who loosens his bonds, when he bounds\r\naway.\r\n\r\nAgain Shantil pursues, and again the fugitive escapes. On this occasion\r\nassuming the form of a pigeon, he flies in at the open window of the\r\nking\xe2\x80\x99s palace and is protected and concealed for a time by a lovely\r\nprincess.\r\n\r\nBut Shantil was his master in the arts of magic, and every disguise was\r\ndiscovered. Upon his father he could not depend, for his father had sold\r\nhim for gold. One refuge alone remained; Shantil had no power over\r\nVet\xc3\xa2ls\xe2\x80\x94the spirits which animate dead bodies, and despairing of other\r\nrefuge, the young Brahman Yogin rushed into a corpse which was hanging\r\non a tree in a public cemetery.\r\n\r\nThis obliged Shantil to seek for a man with sufficient nerve and\r\nresolution to go alone to the cemetery at night, cut down the body which\r\ncontained the Vet\xc3\xa2l into which his pupil had entered, and bring corpse\r\nand Vet\xc3\xa2l to an appointed shrine, at which he would await them.\r\n\r\nThe man of dauntless courage and resolution was found in King Vikrama.\r\nNow, we do not know which Vikrama is meant, he of Ougein, A.D. 65, or\r\nHarsha Vikrama, of A.D. 500, but it does not signify, but the city is\r\ncalled Dhara, to the south of the river Godavery.\r\n\r\nIn Hindu poetry and fiction Vikrama continually figures as the\r\nrepresentative of victorious courage. In this work he is described as\r\nhandsome as the god of love, a devotee in religious worship, deferential\r\nto priests, hermits, and persons who disgusted with worldliness and\r\ncontumely of relatives, had given themselves up to think of God.\r\n\r\nHe was skilled in sacred sciences; warlike, though merciful; a cherisher\r\nof the poor, and a comforter of his subjects; whom he loved as if they\r\nwere his children.\r\n\r\nThe palace of King Vikrama was large and magnificent. It contained the\r\nmost splendid and costly articles: it was constantly sprinkled with\r\naloes water, and every article of furniture was adorned by precious\r\nstones.\r\n\r\nOne day whilst Vikrama sat as usual on his throne, Shantil, the Yogin,\r\npresented himself, and so holy did he appear that the king received him\r\nwith the utmost reverence, and coming down from his throne entreated his\r\nguest to take his seat. He then stood with clasped hands and paid him\r\nadoration.\r\n\r\nShantil presented an artificial fruit which he had brought, gave the\r\nbenediction and went away. For several successive days the same thing\r\nwas repeated, until on one occasion the king happened to drop the fruit\r\nwhich had been presented to him, a pet monkey broke it open, and a\r\nsplendid ruby was seen within.\r\n\r\nThereupon the king desired to have all the other fruits which the holy\r\nman had presented, brought into his presence, and each fruit, when\r\nopened was found to contain rubies. The jewels were of the utmost\r\nrarity. Indeed, the smallest were of such value, that the largest could\r\nonly be considered as beyond all price.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hermit,\xe2\x80\x99 said the king, \xe2\x80\x98with what intention didst thou present me with\r\nsuch treasures; hast thou anything to ask of me?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nShantil did not at once acknowledge what it was he wanted, but gradually\r\nrevealed that he was engaged in rites for obtaining superhuman\r\nfaculties, and that for their completion he required the personal\r\nassistance of the king.\r\n\r\nHe had travelled over the greater part of the world, he said, vainly\r\nseeking such a person as would suit his enterprise. \xe2\x80\x98At length,\xe2\x80\x99 he\r\ncontinued, \xe2\x80\x98I came to your court, and have found in your Majesty the\r\nphysiognomy of a person fitted to act as assistant in the intended\r\nsacrifice.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe king did not give him time to say more, but eagerly promised to do\r\nwhatever was required.\r\n\r\nShantil then explained that a certain Vet\xc3\xa2l must be captured and given\r\ninto his possession.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98On the 14th of Aswin,\xe2\x80\x99 said he, \xe2\x80\x98at midnight, your Majesty must go\r\nalone to the cemetery on the banks of the Godavery, beyond the town: you\r\nmust be clothed in black and bear in your hand a naked sword.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nWhen the appointed day arrived a certain tree was pointed out from which\r\nhe was to cut down the required corpse, and having thrown it across his\r\nshoulders carry it in perfect silence to Shantil.\r\n\r\nVikrama went and found this burial-ground filled with smoke from burning\r\ncorpses, and resounding with piercing cries of devils, which were coming\r\nfrom all regions.\r\n\r\nAt length King Vikrama found the tree, and climbing into it, he cut the\r\ncord by which the corpse was suspended and threw it on the ground; but\r\njust as he put out his hands to capture the Vet\xc3\xa2l it jumped up, and\r\nsuspended itself as before, high up in the tree.[3]\r\n\r\nFootnote 3:\r\n\r\n Certain trees are considered the true home of the Vet\xc3\xa2l: he is then\r\n said \xe2\x80\x98to live in his own house.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThis happened more than once, until the king discovered that he must\r\nbind the corpse across his back before he came down.\r\n\r\nAnd now the king encountered another difficulty; for the wily Vet\xc3\xa2l\r\nwithin the corpse which he carried began telling stories, to beguile the\r\nfatigue of the journey he said, but in truth, because he wanted to\r\nescape; and Vikrama could only hold him on condition of his being\r\nabsolutely silent.\r\n\r\nThe Vet\xc3\xa2l\xe2\x80\x99s plan was therefore, to put the king off his guard, and just\r\nwhen his interest was excited to ask some pointed question.\r\nFive-and-twenty times did this succeed. As soon as the king spoke the\r\nVet\xc3\xa2l flew back to his tree, and the whole process had to be repeated.\r\nThe five-and-twenty stories called \xe2\x80\x98Vet\xc3\xa2lapanchavinsati,\xe2\x80\x99 are a record\r\nof the tales related on these occasions, which Crustnath Cassinathjee, a\r\nmodern Hindu, translated recently into English.\r\n\r\nWhat ultimately became of the persecuted Vet\xc3\xa2l we will leave to the\r\nreader who delights to revel in Eastern fairy lore, as did Swami from\r\nhis boyhood upwards.\r\n\r\nMagic and mystery possessed a charm for him that he could not overcome,\r\nthe result being that he too desired superhuman power, which should\r\nastonish even the advanced scientists of the twenty-first century.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER IX\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98I know the wealth of every urn\r\n In which unnumbered rubies burn,\r\n Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;\r\n I know where the isles of perfume are,\r\n Many a fathom down in the sea,\r\n To the south of sun-bright Araby;\r\n I know too, where the Genii hid\r\n The jewelled cup of their King Jamshid,\r\n With life\xe2\x80\x99s elixir sparkling high.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n _Lalla Rookh._\r\n\r\n\r\nSwami being in the possession of all the accumulated knowledge of\r\nsuccessive generations of Yogins, and having grown up as it were at the\r\nfeet of Gamaliel, in the person of his father\xe2\x80\x94to whom had been imparted\r\nthe secrets of the ascetics of previous generations\xe2\x80\x94was filled with\r\nwonderful wisdom.\r\n\r\nMoreover, his powers were considerably perfected and strengthened by\r\nreason of his advanced culture, aided by his natural gift of\r\npsychic-energy; which latter was considerably augmented by the\r\nsoul-sustaining elixir upon which, it was said, he was chiefly\r\nnourished. Rich and poor flocked to him in their emergencies; and it\r\nmust be recounted of him that although he knew very well that the latter\r\ncould in no wise adequately reward him, nevertheless, he gave the needy\r\nas much of his valuable time as he could well afford; for his rich\r\ncustomers kept him so fully occupied that he had hardly an hour in the\r\nday to call his own.\r\n\r\nIt goes without saying that most of the difficulties upon which he was\r\nconsulted proceeded from that arch mischief-maker\xe2\x80\x94Jealousy, whose wiles\r\nwith the human heart have cost mankind no end of trouble, in all ages.\r\nIt was no uncommon occurrence for a fair Duchess to come and seek his\r\naid by informing her how and where her noble husband was spending his\r\nevenings. But the Duke guessing full well that she would be making\r\ntender inquiries respecting him, would beforehand endeavour to bribe the\r\nhigh-minded Eastern to keep his tongue from telling.\r\n\r\nOr an over-anxious wife would worry herself concerning the safety of her\r\nhusband who had taken his monthly journey across the Atlantic in his\r\nflying machine, of which she was most nervous.\r\n\r\nOr a young man striving to obtain a Government appointment, sought to\r\nlearn if his lady friend, of whom he was in mortal fear, would bowl him\r\nout in the coming examination.\r\n\r\nOr an intending disputant in a law case would consult the\r\nall-knowing-one as to the issue of his suit, if he engaged in it. Those\r\nfoolhardy enough to disregard his warnings, invariably proved\r\nunfortunate; so that in the end, the great mind-reader got as many of\r\nthese clients as the most popular barrister; but bearing different\r\nresults. No matter of what the difficulty consisted this Anglo-Eastern\r\nsage solved it satisfactorily.\r\n\r\nThere was a time when the female portion of his _client\xc3\xa8le_ harried him\r\nunfairly, by disregarding his professional hours, and coming to consult\r\nhim late in the evening. This grew so distressing to the gentle Eastern\r\nthat in the end he made a stand for liberty, by closing his doors\r\nagainst them at a certain hour. It was not their desire to harass their\r\nfavourite fortune-teller, but they objected to being seen making him\r\ntheir visits; for the raillery of their acquaintances gave these anxious\r\nfair ones excruciating agonies.\r\n\r\nSo Swami commanded his servants to admit no one after nine o\xe2\x80\x99clock; for\r\nlistening to the recital of his client\xe2\x80\x99s case was but a moiety of the\r\nlabour to be expended over it.\r\n\r\nSwami was a man of moderate height, that is to say, moderate for the\r\ntwenty-first century, when everybody nearly, attained a great stature.\r\nHis shoulders did not measure the breadth of the Teuton\xe2\x80\x99s, nevertheless,\r\nhe knew no chest-weakness, for his daily athletic exercises from the age\r\nof six gave him a constitution that bore the changes of the English\r\nclimate admirably.\r\n\r\nHe had the beautifully soft, and peculiarly shaped eyes of his race,\r\nthat looked dark, dreamy and unfathomable.\r\n\r\nHis black silken hair hung in natural ringlets around his neck, which\r\nwas smooth and of a deep cream colour: his complexion was the same, but\r\nwas relieved by the dark silky moustache which partially concealed his\r\nwell-cut lips.\r\n\r\nHis nose was straight, coming in a line almost from the forehead, while\r\nhis chin was prominent and broad, indicating resolution of character.\r\n\r\nThe forehead was high and full; while the whole expression of his\r\ncountenance gave the impression of his being a thinker, rather than a\r\nman of action. Although he was averse to much speech nevertheless, his\r\nnatural fluency of language gave him such choice of words that he always\r\nexpressed himself with great grace and dignity.\r\n\r\nNotwithstanding all his wisdom and deep learning there was such an\r\nindescribable air of simplicity and naturalness about him, that people\r\nwere inspired more with feelings of trust and affection for him, rather\r\nthan those of awe and wonder.\r\n\r\nIf you endeavoured to guess his profession by his appearance you\r\nmight have said he was a poet, philosopher, or scholar, but never a\r\nbuilder, architect, or civil engineer; for in truth, he was a\r\ndreamer only, and took no interest in practical pursuits.\r\nNevertheless the nature of his occupation prevented him from\r\nspending his time in mere contemplation, where he could live in a\r\nworld of his own creation; for his mind being daily taken up with\r\nthe affairs of others, forced him into the outside world, although\r\nonly in spirit. Seated in his \xe2\x80\x98room of contemplation,\xe2\x80\x99\xe2\x80\x94as his\r\nEastern servants named it,\xe2\x80\x94where he was surrounded with his books\r\nand instruments of magic, and attired in a robe of rich yellow silk\r\nthat floated down his figure in ample folds, with turban of the same\r\nhue, half concealing his dark silky hair, he looked indeed, a\r\nperfect picture of Eastern beauty.\r\n\r\nHe was a bachelor, so that the disturbing influence to the exercise of\r\ngenius of which our eighteenth-century artist[4] complained, did not\r\ninterfere with his occupations. The halo that surrounds the\r\nunappropriated man had spread its lustre over him, making the pulse of\r\nmany a maiden quicken beneath the soft glance of those beautiful Eastern\r\neyes of his.\r\n\r\nFootnote 4:\r\n\r\n Sir Joshua Reynolds maintained that a wife and children spoilt an\r\n artist\xe2\x80\x99s genius.\r\n\r\nEven the noblest dame would hardly have hesitated to mate with a man who\r\nwas so universally admired and reverenced. Indeed, rumour averred, that\r\noffers of marriage were by no means a rare occurrence with him, for\r\nwoman\xe2\x80\x99s privileges extended to this departure from ancient usage by this\r\ntime.\r\n\r\nBut Swami resisted the tender advances of his fair customers, for his\r\nlife was so entirely devoted to the profession he loved that marital\r\ncares had no charm for him.\r\n\r\nMoreover, he had never met with the woman who could hold empire over\r\nhim; whose soul-energy, could mingle with his, and fill his whole being\r\nwith rapturous emotion, giving his life new charms, new hopes, and new\r\naspirations. Until that being came into his life he was determined to\r\nlive secluded and solitary, for, making no intimates of his customers,\r\nthe pleasures of friendship were unknown to him.\r\n\r\nOne soft spring afternoon, a few days previous to that appointed for the\r\nGreat Test Tournament, there came rolling up to his residence the royal\r\ncarriage, drawn by prancing horses, and who should alight therefrom but\r\nthe Emperor Felicitas himself. The dark servants trembled at the\r\napproach of such a mighty potentate, for Eastern ideas of the power of\r\nprinces are not easily overcome, but Swami himself received the monarch\r\nwith that easy and gentle courtesy he extended to everybody.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What doth the Emperor of so many dominions require of me?\xe2\x80\x99 he asked,\r\nwith a touch of his native Eastern politeness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Indeed,\xe2\x80\x99 cried the Emperor impetuously, \xe2\x80\x98I wish my crown anywhere but\r\non my head! What good is power if it leave one craving for that which he\r\nmost desires?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I want that, Swami, which I am denied, and which my heart is bursting\r\nfor\xe2\x80\x94the love of a woman\xe2\x80\x94there! If thou hast magic power, as I am told\r\nthou possessest greatly, tell me how I can attain this?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Is she so perverse?\xe2\x80\x99 asked Swami quietly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Perverse isn\xe2\x80\x99t the word for it\xe2\x80\x94she is ice, adamant\xe2\x80\x94immovable as a rock!\r\nYes,\xe2\x80\x99 returned the Emperor despondently, \xe2\x80\x98she is as cold as she is\r\nbeautiful; and I have put her in prison! And, oh, I am utterly\r\nmiserable. Believe me, Swami, I cannot sleep, eat, or work, for I am\r\nintensely, hopelessly miserable.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I am truly sorry to see thy Majesty in such a plight,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Swami\r\nkindly. \xe2\x80\x98But why didst thou place the lady thou lovest in a prison? It\r\nseems a high-handed way of dealing with a subject; truly a mighty\r\nstrange method of inducing her love?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I was put in a quandary,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Felicitas candidly, for he knew there\r\nwas no good gained by attempting to deceive the thought-reader; \xe2\x80\x98I was\r\nsuddenly surprised by visitors as I was attempting to detain her, when a\r\ncraven spirit entered me, and I denounced her as a would-be murderer.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Did she endeavour to harm thee?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Swami eagerly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, truly she raised her ebony life-preserver to strike me if I\r\ntouched her.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But she did it in self-defence, evidently,\xe2\x80\x99 retorted Swami, while a\r\nbright light illumined his usually dreamy eyes.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Besides, those ebony trifles that ladies sometimes carry do not kill,\r\nthey do but temporarily paralyse the part they touch.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, it matters little now, what they do\xe2\x80\x94I wish she had killed me\r\noutright\xe2\x80\x94anything but this dreadful torture of doubt to go through. This\r\nfrightful fear nearly drives me mad\xe2\x80\x94I wish it were all over.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Swami, wishful to obtain a clear command from the king\r\nin so many words, for his thoughts were in a state of the wildest\r\nconfusion.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The trial\xe2\x80\x94the trial\xe2\x80\x94I dread it. I heartily wish I had never sent that\r\nwarrant. The Crown Prosecutor has got the case in hand, and, Swami, I am\r\nheartily ashamed of it. Help me, I pray thee, and tell me how it will\r\nall end, and I will well reward thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe Emperor looked like one distraught; his blue eyes gleamed with\r\nfeverish excitement: his lips twitched uneasily, and he clasped his\r\nhands together with the agony of his mind, over which fear more than\r\nrepentance predominated.\r\n\r\nSwami soon perceived wherein the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s chief trouble lay. \xe2\x80\x98I see by\r\nthe brain-waves emanating from thee that the woman thou lovest is in\r\nconfinement in the first-class misdemeanants\xe2\x80\x99 quarters, in the\r\nMetropolitan Prison. Now that will do; I know enough. Let thy Majesty\r\ncome at this hour to-morrow, and I will show thee what thou desirest to\r\nlearn.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen the Emperor remembering that the real object of his visit was not\r\nyet accomplished, blurted out\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98I desire to learn the issue of the trial,\r\nthat is my chief care at present.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Of that I am aware, Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Swami courteously. \xe2\x80\x98Thou desirest to\r\nlearn the issue of the trial on thine own account. I perfectly\r\nunderstand it. In the meantime I would advise that the lady be allowed\r\nher liberty, subject to her own recognisances. It will be more advisable\r\nfrom every point of view, lest thy subjects deem thee harsh and unjust\r\ntowards her. Whichever way the trial goes it is wise to show a merciful\r\nbearing, so that thou mayest retain thy subjects\xe2\x80\x99 good opinion. It\r\ncannot hurt the case for the lady will not flee, be well assured of\r\nthat. She will prefer to face her case in open court, for by all\r\naccounts that have reached me of her character, Mercia isn\xe2\x80\x99t made of\r\nstuff to shirk a duty.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ha, Sorcerer, thou knowest her name! Who told it thee?\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed\r\nFelicitas in much surprise.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thyself,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the Soul-Reader, \xe2\x80\x98I read it on thy brain. Moreover,\r\nfear, more than love, predominates within thy bosom. Thy Majesty doth\r\ndread the testimony of the witnesses arrayed against thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I do not deny it,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Felicitas meekly, for he was completely\r\nsubdued by the two-fold influence of anxiety concerning the impending\r\ncase, and awe of the Soul-reader\xe2\x80\x99s power to divine his thought.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I do not indeed, deny it,\xe2\x80\x99 he continued, \xe2\x80\x98for I certainly dread that\r\nawful Sadbag, who with villainous guile hid behind the screen, and heard\r\nme plead my cause with the beauteous Mercia. But I must own it gives me\r\nmore uneasiness the testimony of Mercia herself, for none will doubt her\r\nword.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Then, let me advise thy Majesty to withdraw the charge and set the lady\r\nat liberty forthwith. A king\xe2\x80\x99s cause should be just, and beyond\r\nsuspicion: himself the personification of integrity, truth, and\r\nrighteousness. He should rather suffer a slight, than in revenge work a\r\ngreat injury. The way of a king should be perfect.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nFelicitas looking ill at ease endeavoured to take this rebuke lightly.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The law still holds good that \xe2\x80\x9ca king can do no wrong.\xe2\x80\x9d But, Swami,\xe2\x80\x99 he\r\ncontinued earnestly, and in a pleading tone, \xe2\x80\x98thine advice is good if my\r\nway be not: tell me first what the issue of the trial will be, and I\r\nwill then accommodate myself to circumstances.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Be it so,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Swami courteously. \xe2\x80\x98Come at this hour to-morrow and\r\nI will be prepared.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nWhen the Emperor arrived on the following day at the Soul-reader\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndwelling, he was met at the door by Swami himself, who conducted him\r\ninto his library. From thence he led him into an inner room, which\r\nhaving no window was in a state of complete darkness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It has cost me many hours of labour to obtain this result,\xe2\x80\x99 explained\r\nSwami to his visitor, \xe2\x80\x98but it is, I believe, perfect. Presently, I will\r\nillumine the sensitive plate on which the scene is projected from my\r\nbrain, and show to thy Majesty three pictures of the scenes which will\r\ncertainly be enacted at the court, during the coming trial. For I find\r\nthat the case will come off independently of thy action. I can only now\r\nadvise what course thy Majesty can best take concerning it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen Swami, having all the results in readiness of his wonderful\r\ninstrument\xe2\x80\x94the psycho-register\xe2\x80\x94touched a spring, and forthwith an\r\nimmense illuminated picture, filling one side of the room and\r\nrepresenting a scene in the Great Hall, of the Court, almost dazzling in\r\nits brilliancy of colouring, instantaneously appeared. So complete was\r\nthe surprise of Felicitas that he started back, for the strange\r\nvividness, no less than the suddenness of the scene made him somewhat\r\nnervous: but Swami, accustomed to finding his visitors startled, kindly\r\nre-assured him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 said he gently, \xe2\x80\x98be not alarmed, there is nothing to hurt thy\r\nMajesty.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIt proved, in truth, a most wonderful and striking picture of the Great\r\nJustice Hall in the Metropolitan Court. Tiers of seats containing the\r\n_\xc3\xa9lite_ of Great Britain, and Ireland, Berlin, Paris, and most of the\r\nEuropean Continent, were filled to overflowing; for nobles and great\r\ndames, and even several crowned heads, had assembled from all parts to\r\nsee the _cause c\xc3\xa9l\xc3\xa8bre_.\r\n\r\nIn the dock was seated Mercia, looking calm, beautiful, and\r\nself-possessed. She was arrayed in a flowing crimson velvet gown that\r\ncast a warm glow over her face which had paled considerably either\r\nthrough anxiety, or prison confinement.\r\n\r\nInnumerable opera glasses were being levelled at her by both sexes;\r\nwhile busy barristers in their black gowns and white wigs scanned their\r\nnote-books. The place set apart for newspaper reporters was filled with\r\nrepresentatives of the press setting in order their respective\r\nphonographs, which were to register the whole proceedings of the case.\r\nWhere the distance was not great as soon as the court closed each day,\r\nthe phonograph containing the evidence of the witnesses, speeches of the\r\nbarristers, and in fact everything that was said at the trial, was\r\npacked off forthwith to the editor of each newspaper, by the quickest\r\nconveyance possible, who cut down the report as he thought fit, to suit\r\nthe dimensions of his space in the newspaper, and the fastidiousness of\r\nhis readers; for the frailties of human nature as delineated in a court\r\nof justice do not form at all times an edifying spectacle for the young,\r\nor the modest.\r\n\r\nOn his feet stood the Crown Prosecutor, evidently stating his case,\r\nwhile Geometrus and Sadbag were seated at one side; but no Emperor\r\nFelicitas could be discovered anywhere: he indeed, was conspicuous by\r\nhis absence, seeing he was the only witness in his own case.\r\n\r\nFelicitas gazed in amazement at the immense group photographed there;\r\nejaculating from time to time, as he recognised each member of the\r\nnobility with whom he was acquainted, pictured before him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By Jove!\xe2\x80\x99 he exclaimed, \xe2\x80\x98there is Nicholas of Russia, and his fat\r\nEmpress! How interested she looks\xe2\x80\x94see she has got her ear-trumpet in\r\nuse, endeavouring to miss nothing. And Louis of France, forsooth; the\r\nnew Louis Twentieth, not at all a bad looking fellow! And Osbert my\r\ncousin, who averred he\xe2\x80\x99d be dumb, but evidently intends to be neither\r\nblind, nor deaf.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And there\xe2\x80\x99s the Duke of Northumberland, with his skinny spouse seated\r\nbeside him; whose skin is just like a piece of crinkled yellow leather.\r\nAnd Lord Lennox and his pretty bride! Well, I must say, they\xe2\x80\x99re all most\r\nexcellent likenesses\xe2\x80\x94they look indeed, like living pictures. What a\r\ntreat they are getting! An Emperor in a witness box isn\xe2\x80\x99t an every-day\r\noccurrence, to be sure! And, oh, there\xe2\x80\x99s Mercia, how pale, how\r\nbeautiful, how sad she appears! Ah, Swami, I have no heart to go on with\r\nthis prosecution. I love her\xe2\x80\x94I would die for her\xe2\x80\x94canst thou not exercise\r\nthy magic and _make_ her love _me_?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I possess no power over the human heart,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Swami coldly. \xe2\x80\x98My\r\nwork is to make known futurity to a slight extent; which will serve as a\r\nguidance to the inquirer in matters of difficulty. Besides,\xe2\x80\x99 added the\r\nThought-reader lightly, \xe2\x80\x98thy Majesty is no longer in the matrimonial\r\nmarket. Why trouble then the lady when thou hast nothing to offer her\r\nbut disgrace?\xe2\x80\x99 he inquired after a pause.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would make her mine Empress,\xe2\x80\x99 cried Felicitas passionately. \xe2\x80\x98I would\r\nobtain a divorce and free myself from my intolerable fetters!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Impossible!\xe2\x80\x99 urged Swami, as it seemed defiantly. \xe2\x80\x98Thy Majesty hath no\r\njust cause for putting away thine Empress: she is a model of marital\r\npurity, by all accounts.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My plea would be on the ground of incompatibility of temper: we do not\r\nagree in any way, and I shall never know happiness while I live with\r\nher. Besides, what is to become of the Succession, with a barren woman\r\nfor Empress?\xe2\x80\x99 demanded Felicitas with a look of triumph in his face, for\r\nhe imagined this would prove an unanswerable argument with the country.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Succession,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Swami smiling, \xe2\x80\x98can take no harm whatever,\r\nwith the numerous cousins thy Majesty is favoured with. Moreover, it\r\nbehoves me to remind thy Majesty that the Empress and thyself lived in\r\nperfect harmony up to the time that thy mind wandered to the fair\r\nastronomer. Curb thy desires: keep thy way pure, and engage thyself in\r\nthe affairs of the nation, taking good heed of thine high position, and\r\nMercia will soon pass out of thy life. Thus all will in time go well\r\nwith thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How fine thou preachest, good Swami! Surely thou hast mistaken thy\r\nvocation\xe2\x80\x94for the gown of a priest would better befit thee. Dost thou\r\nadvise all thy customers in this strain?\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the monarch angrily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I counsel each one who seeks my aid to the best of my ability. All who\r\ncome hither do so of their own free will. I invite no one\xe2\x80\x94I press no\r\none. Let him who is dissatisfied with my forewarnings go his own way: I\r\nwill not quarrel with him for following his own council. For I find all\r\nmen in the end carry out their own designs, even if the wisdom of a\r\nSolomon, double-distilled, were to warn them of their folly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Swami, forgive me!\xe2\x80\x99 returned Felicitas humbly, \xe2\x80\x98I meant no offence; but\r\nI was nettled by being made to listen to good advice, to which I am\r\ntreated daily. The Empress bestows uninvited this article so generously\r\nthat in truth I want no more from anybody. Now, I pray, let us talk of\r\nMercia; would she marry me if I were free?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She is destined for another, far beneath thy Majesty in social\r\nposition; but who can give her a heart wholly devoted to her: one who\r\nhas never desired the love of woman till his eyes gazed upon her\r\nbeauty\xe2\x80\x94the beauty of her soul,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Swami, with a countenance\r\nirradiated with his own emotions.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To look at thee, Swami, and to hear thy speech,\xe2\x80\x99 cried the Emperor\r\nexcitedly, \xe2\x80\x98one could only conclude that thou wert in love with her\r\nthyself! Her beauty of person is good enough for me: I know naught of\r\nsoul-beauty! Few men do, I opine, save sorcerers; and they need no\r\nfemininities to comfort them, being above such frailties, I presume.\r\nHowever, I am aware that Mercia is in love already. That fellow\r\nGeometrus desires her, and she loves him: at all events she told me as\r\nmuch. I suppose thy prophecy refers to him; for he is one also who\r\ntroubles little about the affairs of women; for he slaves all day making\r\nastronomical instruments for Mercia to do her star-gazing with. He is\r\nher devoted servant, and she appreciates him accordingly,\xe2\x80\x99 observed\r\nFelicitas cynically.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But will she _marry_ him?\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Swami musingly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Exercise thy soul-reading powers and discover for thyself,\xe2\x80\x99 answered\r\nthe Emperor lightly. \xe2\x80\x98Turn on the next scene, if it be ready, for I\r\nwould learn all with as great a speed as possible,\xe2\x80\x99 he added.\r\n\r\nUpon hearing this request Swami pressed another button, and immediately\r\nthe room was enveloped in darkness, and the picture vanished altogether\r\nfrom sight. The next picture which appeared upon the crystal plate,\r\nportrayed the court with the same visitors in similar order as before,\r\nbut with this difference. The serious expression which the countenances\r\nof all present wore in the first instance was now changed to that of\r\nintense excitement in some, while the greater part of the audience\r\nseemed bursting with merriment.\r\n\r\nSadbag, who was the centre of all eyes, was in the witness box\r\nmanipulating a phonograph of the newest design, the boxed-up talk of\r\nwhich was being apparently reeled out for the benefit of the court; the\r\nnature of its revelations proving irresistibly comic to the assembly\xe2\x80\x99s\r\npoint of view, while the old man\xe2\x80\x99s air of triumph most graphically\r\nseemed to say, \xe2\x80\x98What do you think of that my friends?\xe2\x80\x99 as he smirked\r\nwith an \xe2\x80\x98I-told-you-so,\xe2\x80\x99 sort of expression on his face.\r\n\r\nMercia on her part was blushing violently, Geometrus was scowling\r\ndarkly, while all the barristers were endeavouring to conceal their\r\nmerriment by fluttering their pocket-handkerchiefs under the pretence of\r\nblowing their noses. Prince Osbert was actually holding his sides; while\r\nhis face, puckered with merriment, seemed to say\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Now isn\xe2\x80\x99t this\r\nexcruciatingly funny?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia\xe2\x80\x99s counsel wore an air of happy triumph, which appeared to\r\nindicate complete satisfaction with his own good management of the case.\r\nFelicitas was absent, as before, but his Empress was among the audience,\r\nlooking as flushed and angered as an injured wife might well be.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What the deuce is everybody laughing at?\xe2\x80\x99 queried the Emperor, while a\r\ndeep frown crossed his face,\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98I cannot understand it!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nSwami remained silent; he knew full well what the phonograph was saying,\r\nbut did not deem it wise to give the irascible monarch too much\r\ninformation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Canst not thy Majesty comprehend the situation?\xe2\x80\x99 he demanded suavely.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No, I do not,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Felicitas hotly, \xe2\x80\x98tell me the meaning of it\r\nall.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Time alone will show the full development. There is sufficient pictured\r\nto give thy Majesty ample warning.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is easy enough to see that I shall be made a pretty laughing-stock\r\nfor the whole world. That villain Sadbag has worked some vile trick upon\r\nme\xe2\x80\x94that is very evident. Strange that thou art unable to explain what\r\nthe beast is up to!\xe2\x80\x99 muttered Felicitas to himself, for he was bursting\r\nwith rage at the very thought of the whole proceeding.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98We have had enough of this,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Swami quietly, as he prudently\r\npressed the extinguishing button, producing perfect darkness. \xe2\x80\x98We will\r\nnow show the closing scene and dismiss the matter for to-night.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I am weary of it all,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked the monarch disgusted with the\r\nportrayals of the magic crystal, \xe2\x80\x98I would I had never seen this sorcery,\r\nI shall not get a wink of sleep this night.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Nor to-morrow night either,\xe2\x80\x99 said Swami coolly, as he switched on the\r\nlight revealing the third and last of the wonderful pictures.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What meanest thou by that?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Felicitas curtly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The real trial commences to-morrow,\xe2\x80\x99 replied the Soul-reader calmly, \xe2\x80\x98a\r\nmessenger is at this moment awaiting thy Majesty\xe2\x80\x99s return to remind thee\r\nof the date.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To-morrow!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98impossible! This cannot be the\r\ndate!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is truly,\xe2\x80\x99 said Swami compassionately, \xe2\x80\x98thine hour of trial is at\r\nhand. But see, here is Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s hour of triumph, mark how everybody is\r\nshowing her honour, and offering their congratulations.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nHowever striking these photo-crystal pictures had appeared, this last,\r\nwithout doubt, displayed the most stirring scene. It represented the\r\nintense joy of a great multitude, who were offering their\r\ncongratulations, and testifying their admiration of one who had gone\r\nthrough a severe ordeal, out of which she had come victorious.\r\n\r\nThe whole populace were paying her their sincerest homage in honest\r\nEnglish fashion. Some were waving their hats and cheering vociferously.\r\nWhile a number had removed from their shafts the four bay horses that\r\ndrew her chariot. This latter was standing near the gates of the law\r\ncourts, and the men in warm enthusiasm, had commenced pulling the\r\ncarriage themselves.\r\n\r\nOthers were casting wreaths of bay leaves into her lap; so numerous were\r\nthey that a great pile was being formed in the centre of her carriage.\r\nThese were intermixed with bouquets of the loveliest flowers, one of\r\nwhich was composed of the most cunningly-wrought blossoms, the leaves of\r\nwhich were studded with costly emeralds, and their buds bedewed with\r\ndiamonds of immense value. This beautiful and generous gift was being\r\noffered by a gentleman whose face being turned aside, made the Emperor\r\nunable to discover the features.\r\n\r\nMercia looked perfectly radiant with pleasure, as she bowed her numerous\r\nacknowledgments to the enthusiastic crowd that surrounded her.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By Jove!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the Emperor excitedly, as he critically scanned the\r\nmysterious figure, \xe2\x80\x98I could swear those were thy dark curls clustering\r\nround thine ears!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Curls are common enough, Sire, and dark hair is no rarity in thy\r\nrealms,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Swami evasively, who seemed a little put out at the\r\nking\xe2\x80\x99s speech.\r\n\r\nFelicitas gazed with feelings of wonder and envy, intermingled with\r\nregret, upon the picture which glowed with resplendent colouring; every\r\nfigure in which presented such an apparent natural roundness that it was\r\ndifficult to imagine they were not endowed with life and motion. The\r\nlineaments of those with whom he was acquainted were so exactly\r\ndelineated, and the natural pose and bearing of each individual so\r\nvividly represented that he was impelled to put out his hand to touch\r\none of them.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hold!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Swami quickly, \xe2\x80\x98touch it not, or thou art a dead man!\r\nThe shock would kill thee instantly, for these psychodevelopments are\r\nwrought and illumined by strong frictional electricity of the deadliest\r\nkind; the current of which is so powerful that it infinitely exceeds\r\nthat of forked lightning.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ha!\xe2\x80\x99 ejaculated Felicitas paling, \xe2\x80\x98it is certainly foolhardy to meddle\r\nwith such trickery; but, in truth, I had forgotten myself completely. It\r\nis without doubt the most beautiful creation I have ever seen! How\r\nwonderfully art thou endowed, Swami, I would I were only half as gifted\r\nas thou art.\xe2\x80\x99 Then, the Emperor fixing his gaze upon the beauteous face\r\nof Mercia, who formed the central figure in the scene, and whose\r\ncountenance expressed the sweetest grace and modesty; commenced to thus\r\napostrophise her\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98This then is the end and issue of my suit\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Which suit, thy lovesuit, or thy lawsuit?\xe2\x80\x99 interrupted Swami lightly;\r\nfor the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s love-raptures for some reason annoyed him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Which suit?\xe2\x80\x99 repeated Felicitas dreamily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Both suits, I suppose,\xe2\x80\x99 added Swami laughingly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah truly,\xe2\x80\x99 sighed the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98the twain have proved an utter failure.\r\nI thought to bring her low\xe2\x80\x94to humiliate her\xe2\x80\x94to place her in such a\r\nposition as would force her to accept my royal clemency and bounty; but\r\nalas, I have only brought about a public triumph for her, and public\r\ndishonour to myself! Oh, Swami let not this be the finishing scene; thou\r\nart all-powerful, make another wherein Mercia is my bride, the crowned\r\nEmpress of the Teutonic Empire.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Be it so, Sire, a fourth picture shall appear wherein the completion of\r\nher triumph shall be projected. Retire a few moments, and I will conjure\r\nit presently.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIn less than ten minutes, Felicitas was summoned into the dark room, and\r\non the wonderful crystal there appeared the most beautiful vision of\r\nwomanly loveliness that art had ever created. Mercia looking radiant\r\nwith happiness, whose beauty was heightened and enhanced by the most\r\ncostly draperies and diamonds that wealth could produce, was seated on a\r\nthrone, surrounded by the imposing pageantry of a coronation ceremony. A\r\ncrown composed of magnificent diamonds and various precious stones of\r\nimmense value graced her well-shaped head, while brilliant gems sparkled\r\nin the rich embroidery of her magnificent robes.\r\n\r\nEastern potentates, and native princes of the various Eastern\r\npossessions were paying her homage. Their Oriental costumes, rich with\r\njewels and resplendent with vivid colouring lent a charm to the most\r\nmagnificent scene of Oriental splendour that it was possible to\r\nconceive.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What an entrancing sight! What perfect loveliness!\xe2\x80\x99 murmured the\r\nEmperor, as he gazed with rapture on the beautiful picture before him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia, dearest Mercia, how beautiful thou art! Did I not divine thou\r\nwert made to grace a throne? Oh, thou sweet Mercia, listen to me. What\r\nbliss to dwell with thee always; to listen to the divine melody of that\r\nsweet voice; to clasp in mine that beautiful hand; to drink of the\r\nnectar of those ruby lips; to know that thou wert all mine own!\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, that I might share my crown, my realms, my all with thee! Thou\r\nQueen of my heart, thou Light of my life!\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Art thou indeed to grace my throne? Is this thy Bridal Day foreshown?\r\nSwami,\xe2\x80\x99 continued he, turning to the Soul-reader, \xe2\x80\x98is all that Eastern\r\npageantry to lend its lustre to my second nuptials?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Surely not,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Swami proudly, \xe2\x80\x98does not thy Majesty perceive\r\nthat it is altogether an Oriental picture?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But I am the Emperor of India,\xe2\x80\x99 said Felicitas with much dignity, \xe2\x80\x98how\r\nthen can Mercia be Empress unless _I_ place the consort crown on her\r\nhead?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The days are numbered that see thee supreme Ruler of my country: a week\r\nhence and India will have accomplished her freedom.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Has fate decreed that the Hindu shall exceed the English in physical\r\nstrength? If this be thy divination then I believe nothing of it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All the worse for thee, Sire. Believe that which yields thee most\r\ncomfort, and forget my harmless prophecies. To-morrow attend the Law\r\nCourts, and see all things reversed, as thy heart desireth. Perhaps,\r\nlike dreams, which are said to prove the contrary of what they picture,\r\nthe reality will come out the opposite of all thou hast seen this day\r\nportrayed. It may be that Mercia, instead of being crowned an Empress,\r\nshall to-morrow be consigned to execution, or life imprisonment?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would sooner see her die than wedded to another,\xe2\x80\x99 murmured the\r\nEmperor moodily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thy Majesty is merciful as wise!\xe2\x80\x99 responded Swami cynically, as he\r\npressed the extinguisher for the last time, and set the room in\r\ndarkness; obliterating for the moment the entrancing portrait of the\r\nwoman he was learning to love through the medium of soul-sympathy; for\r\nhe was as yet personally unacquainted with Mercia.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would I had never seen either thyself or thy psychical pictures,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nsaid Felicitas bitterly. \xe2\x80\x98What good is it looking into futurity? It does\r\nbut make one miserable beforehand. I cannot control the current of\r\nevents; all will take place exactly the same as if I had known nothing.\r\nTo look into the future is but to anticipate life\xe2\x80\x99s troubles.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What earthly use to learn the issue of the trial to-day, to-morrow\r\nwould have been soon enough to know my ill-fortune.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Balak-like thou wouldst have me curse, when I can only bless,\xe2\x80\x99 returned\r\nSwami. \xe2\x80\x98It is true that thy Majesty must reap as thou hast sown. We all\r\nlive under this unalterable law. As the husbandman sows seed expecting\r\nits like to be reproduced, so we must be satisfied to gather the fruit\r\nof our own actions. If we plant the crab, can we look for the apricot?\r\nIf we work dishonourable actions, can we reap honour thereby?\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The priest promises Heaven as the reward of a good life, but the only\r\nHeaven assigned to man is that of his own creation\xe2\x80\x94the delight that\r\npervades his soul in the knowledge that he has not lived in vain; that\r\nhe has been the source of comfort and happiness to others; that he has\r\nkept the golden rule. Six little words, in fact, define it,\xe2\x80\x94_that he\r\nloves and is beloved_\xe2\x80\x94for human love, in all its various sections, is\r\nHeaven\xe2\x80\x94no other Paradise exists.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98\xe2\x80\x99Tis the want of this, that\xe2\x80\x99s brought my trouble,\xe2\x80\x99 murmured Felicitas.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If I had Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s love then wouldst thou see how pious I could be.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Is a child contented wholly when one desire is satisfied? No, he cries\r\nhourly for new toys and new delights. Thy Majesty would weary in course\r\nof time with the beauteous Mercia, as thou hast wearied of thy spouse.\r\nPhysical charms delight the eye for a season; but if there be no union\r\nof psycho-magnetic sympathy there is no possibility of an enduring\r\naffection. Sire, be content; as thou hast made thy bed, so must thou lie\r\nupon it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That reminds me of my suit to-morrow,\xe2\x80\x99 interrupted Felicitas\r\nimpatiently. \xe2\x80\x98What wouldst thou advise in this dilemma?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The case is surrounded with difficulties,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Swami reflectively.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If thou withdraw the prosecution, the defenders would persist in its\r\nbeing gone through. Sadbag, and Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s counsel would not miss giving\r\nthe evidence they have in store, under any consideration. Her counsel\r\nhas decidedly made up his mind that nothing shall induce him to let the\r\ncase collapse. He will plead, if thou withdraw, that his client\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ncharacter is at stake, and must be cleared by suitable investigation of\r\nthe charge. Besides, the charge is _thine_ no longer: it is in the hands\r\nof the Public Prosecutor.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I will be no witness for him,\xe2\x80\x99 cried Felicitas, a new idea having\r\ncrossed his mind. \xe2\x80\x98This night urgent affairs of state shall summon me to\r\nBerlin. Good-bye, Swami, for the present. We shall see whether thy\r\nsoul-reading crystal plate has discovered to us the false or the true.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Will thy Majesty be absent from the GREAT TEST TRIAL next Tuesday?\xe2\x80\x99\r\ninquired Swami, with a view of reminding him of the date of that event.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By all above us, no,\xe2\x80\x99 emphatically ejaculated Felicitas, whose ideas\r\nand recollections were in a decided jumble. The Emperor, if he be alive,\r\nmust without doubt, be present at the Tournament.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I do not see how it could legally take place without me; for the king,\r\nwhose realms are in dispute, is ever deemed the chiefest witness of the\r\ncontest.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have ample time; for by to-morrow night Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s cause will have been\r\nheard and fully disposed of; there are still a few days left for the\r\nscandal to blow over, before the 1st of May, when I will appear in my\r\nproper place, and fulfil the duties that belong to my royal state.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How convenient to be a king, and know naught of the penalties of\r\nwrong-doing. A meaner mortal would be punished for perjury in such a\r\ncase! But here \xe2\x80\x99twill be glossed over, and the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s clemency\r\nenlarged upon by his counsel,\xe2\x80\x99 thought Swami, as he conducted the\r\nmonarch to the great doors, outside which his carriage stood in\r\nreadiness.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER X\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Whence all this strange attraction? \xe2\x80\x99Tis Nature\xe2\x80\x99s law,\r\n Which irresistibly impels and leads\r\n With forces so unutterably strong,\r\n And yet so hid\xe2\x80\x94so wrapped in joy\xe2\x80\x94concealed\xe2\x80\x94\r\n That whence it comes we nothing know, nor why\xe2\x80\x94\r\n We only know it is that Power called LOVE.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n _Idylls, Legends and Lyrics._\r\n\r\n\r\nAs soon as Swami got rid of his visitor, he quickly made his way to the\r\ndark chamber, where he had been thirsting to rush for some time past,\r\nand turning on the force brought to view the psycho-development of the\r\ncoronation scene, wherein the portrait of the beautiful astronomer was\r\nthe centre-piece. He had in reality prepared this mental feast for\r\nhimself, but was induced at the request of Felicitas to reveal its\r\ncharms to that monarch.\r\n\r\nAs she sat upon her golden throne surrounded by the Maharajahs, and\r\nHeads of the various Principalities of the Eastern Empire, decked in\r\ntheir glittering robes, their crowns, and other courtly splendours,\r\nheightened with all the attendant pomp of Eastern ceremonial, Swami saw\r\nonly the person of the matchless Mercia; for the rest possessed little\r\ninterest for him at this moment.\r\n\r\nAs his gaze dwelt upon her sweet face, he looked into her eyes with\r\nrapturous emotion, and clasping his hands together, knelt before this\r\nlovely delineation of his secret adoration, uttering in tenderest\r\naccents a passionate apostrophe.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98O, divine Mercia, I love thee! Thou hast brought into my life a new\r\nelement\xe2\x80\x94a new force, as mysterious, as it is powerful. A new joy has\r\ncome into my heart hitherto unknown. A new hope is imparted to my lonely\r\nlife, irradiating its darkness, and giving the sweetest comfort known to\r\nthe human soul. I read the magic mirror of thine eyes, and see thy soul\r\nall perfect, all pure, and unsullied.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I mentally see thy thought, and mapped out before me read the\r\nloveliness of thy mind; for by the motions of thy brain I am acquainted\r\nwith the rich treasures of thy cultured mind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou wert made to inspire the deepest emotions in the human heart; for\r\nthe mighty gift of soul-sympathy that pervades thy whole being,\r\nexercises such power over every mind that all bow to thy magic\r\ninfluence, deeming it a happiness to be near thee, however short the\r\nmoment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The lowliest feel thy charm, and draw comfort therefrom, while I,\r\ndearest Mercia, am inspired with ineffable delight; for who could know\r\nthee and not be fired with the noblest aims\xe2\x80\x94the highest aspirations?\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Come then, sweet girl, come hither, and let mine eyes gaze upon the\r\ncasket that contains such a rich jewel\xe2\x80\x94the form that contains such a\r\nperfect soul!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen Swami, raising himself from his kneeling posture, and standing\r\nerect, closed his eyes, and projecting from his nerve-centres a powerful\r\nstream of psychic-energy, which, rushing in waves through the air,\r\nalmost instantly found its way to the fair prisoner.\r\n\r\nImmediately, without knowing the cause, she commenced thinking of the\r\ngreat Soul-reader, experiencing a strong desire to go and see him.\r\n\r\nNow, in consequence of Swami\xe2\x80\x99s advice the day previous, the Emperor had,\r\nat the proper quarters intimated his desire to bestow the royal pardon\r\non the fair culprit; which command being as quickly carried out as\r\nofficialism would admit, Mercia was made acquainted with her position\r\nwith little delay.\r\n\r\nWhen the governor of the prison read the document to Mercia which\r\ncontained the so-called \xe2\x80\x98pardon,\xe2\x80\x99 an indignant flush rose instantly to\r\nher cheeks.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah!\xe2\x80\x99 she disdainfully cried, \xe2\x80\x98the Emperor generously sends me a pardon\r\nbefore it is solicited, for a crime I have never committed! His clemency\r\noppresses me\xe2\x80\x94it is really more than I can accept.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is certainly most unparalleled in prison records,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked the\r\ngovernor, who looked mystified. \xe2\x80\x98I don\xe2\x80\x99t know of a similar instance in\r\nall my experience. The pardon should be accorded after the sentence is\r\npassed, should the prisoner be found guilty. I understand that his\r\nGracious Majesty being himself the prosecutor, departs from the ordinary\r\nroutine observed in such matters. He desires to set thee at liberty\r\nwithout further delay.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I cannot accept his Majesty\xe2\x80\x99s clemency without consulting my counsel,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nreplied Mercia after a pause: \xe2\x80\x98the case is in readiness, he informs me,\r\nand witnesses are fully prepared to establish my innocence. I will\r\ntherefore remain here until I have had a consultation with him. Be good\r\nenough to send for him at once, and we two will consider the matter.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nWhile the governor of the prison was despatching his messenger to the\r\nbarrister, Swami\xe2\x80\x99s brain-wave had in the meantime reached Mercia;\r\ncausing her to upset her plans somewhat; for she found herself being\r\nimpelled by a strong desire to regain her freedom without delay.\r\n\r\nIntimating her change of design to the governor, she took her departure\r\nfrom the prison; and hiring a cab from the nearest public stand,\xe2\x80\x94for\r\nelectricity did not do away with the Jehu, it only altered the\r\nmotive-power of his chariot\xe2\x80\x94she instinctively gave orders to drive to\r\nthe great Soul-reader, and ere long found herself at his door.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Why have I come hither?\xe2\x80\x99 she asked herself, as she was being led\r\nthrough the beautiful conservatory, which was brilliantly illumined by\r\nelectricity, for the sun had gone down by this time.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What has brought me here?\xe2\x80\x99 she murmured again to herself.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What brings everybody hither?\xe2\x80\x99 whispered Reason in her ear.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, yes,\xe2\x80\x99 she replied mentally to her prompter, \xe2\x80\x98of course I have come\r\nto consult the great man in my difficulty. I seek his advice and\r\nforewarning concerning the course I ought to pursue to-morrow. This is a\r\ngreat emergency. No barrister can determine how the trial will end; for\r\nJustice hath so many ways of turning that the most righteous cause runs\r\ngreat risks in a law court. My case is not an ordinary one; my counsel\r\nhas had no experience in opposing the suit of an Emperor, for his own\r\nSovereign is his opponent! The whole thing bristles with difficulties\r\nthroughout.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nA few seconds sufficed for these reflections, for the motions of the\r\nbrain are intensely rapid: she had only proceeded a few steps when\r\nSwami, who had come out to meet her, greeted her with the most profound\r\nrespect.\r\n\r\nHis whole deportment displayed the deepest reverence of her, while his\r\ncountenance was irradiated with the light of a great joy.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Welcome, sweet Lady!\xe2\x80\x99 he murmured softly, \xe2\x80\x98wilt thou graciously come\r\nhither?\xe2\x80\x99 Saying which he conducted her into his library, displaying the\r\nutmost deference towards her, the while; then leading her to the softest\r\ncouch he begged her to be seated.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thou art Dayanand Swami, the great Soul-reader, and I am Mercia\r\nMontgomery, the late Astronomer Royal,\xe2\x80\x99 she faltered out, hardly knowing\r\nwhat to say, she felt so singularly disturbed in her mind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have heard great accounts of thine attainments,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Swami,\r\nendeavouring to check his excitement, \xe2\x80\x98I have long desired the\r\nopportunity of meeting with England\xe2\x80\x99s rarest lady.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia looked at him earnestly for a moment; then blushed, and an\r\ninstant later recovering herself, she smiled archly\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah!\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed, \xe2\x80\x98it seems to me that all men are given to flattery,\r\nI imagined that the illustrious Swami would have been an exception.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Because all men say the same that proves it is no flattery,\xe2\x80\x99 said Swami\r\ndeprecatingly; \xe2\x80\x98nevertheless it is not meet that one should give\r\nexpression to his opinion while yet he is a stranger. Pardon me,\r\nMistress Mercia, for the liberty taken. But let me entreat of thee to\r\nraise thy veil; otherwise I shall be at a disadvantage when reading thy\r\ndestiny, which I presume, is the object of thy visit,\xe2\x80\x99 he added\r\nartfully.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Certainly,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Mercia innocently; while another bright smile lit\r\nup her face with a singular radiance, as she threw back the dark veil\r\nwith which she had been careful to conceal herself while coming from the\r\nprison. \xe2\x80\x98I do not use these things always,\xe2\x80\x99 she added, \xe2\x80\x98it was the\r\ndisgrace of being seen come out of a prison that induced me to wear it\r\nat all.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The disgrace is his who sent thither the innocent. The noon of another\r\nday shall place the dishonour where it is due. Lady, I am acquainted\r\nwith thy design in coming here, it is to learn the issue of thy trial.\r\nRest assured, all is well; the arrangements are perfect that thy friends\r\nhave made.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Even so my counsel tells me: he says the evidence of Sadbag who was in\r\nthe room during the time that the Emperor accuses me of attempting his\r\nlife is most convincing. Nevertheless, as the old man himself is accused\r\nof conspiring with me against his Majesty, the Emperor, I have my fears\r\nanent the trial\xe2\x80\x99s issue; for such evidence will not be credited the same\r\nas if he were an independent witness. But now the matter has taken\r\nanother aspect. This day a pardon has come, unsolicited by me, from the\r\nEmperor, and I am fully released without a trial, without condemnation,\r\nI am _pardoned_! Unfold to me this mystery, I pray, and give me thy good\r\ncounsel.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAll this time the Soul-reader was gazing upon the beautiful face turned\r\ntowards him in anxious appeal: knowing full well of the certainty of her\r\nposition, his mind was not disturbed with the perplexities of the\r\nsituation. Nevertheless, he deemed it impolitic to explain everything\r\nfully: such information could not turn the current of affairs, he argued\r\nto himself; it would only have the effect of increasing her reluctance\r\nto appear in court at all.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Let thine anxieties be dispersed at once,\xe2\x80\x99 he urged gently, \xe2\x80\x98there is\r\nno cause at all for alarm: only trust thy good friend Sadbag; he will\r\nmake it pretty warm for the Emperor.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How so?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Mercia, with great curiosity.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By his evidence, of course,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Swami, who hesitated to recount\r\nthe full extent of Sadbag\xe2\x80\x99s revelations, which could only increase her\r\nembarrassment.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Is this all then, that the great Soul-reader can show me?\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed\r\nMercia in a disappointed tone of voice; \xe2\x80\x98I hoped to have seen the\r\nwonderful mind-reflecting mirror that all the world speaks of. Is there\r\nnothing at all in my future that is worthy of transmission to the plate?\r\nIf nothing better, then show me my future husband;\xe2\x80\x99 she demanded, while\r\na roguish smile dimpled her face.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Show thee thy future husband!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated Swami nervously, \xe2\x80\x98I cannot,\r\nbecause I dare not,\xe2\x80\x99 he added in evident excitement.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But I desire it,\xe2\x80\x99 persisted Mercia, \xe2\x80\x98I fain would learn if there be\r\nsuch an individual in store for me.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I will tell thee whom thou shalt not marry, if that will suit,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nreturned Swami earnestly; with a view of evading the inquiry.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That is indeed a negative method of satisfying a lady\xe2\x80\x99s curiosity,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nlaughed Mercia gaily. \xe2\x80\x98Well, then whom shall I _not_ marry?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Neither Felicitas, nor Geometrus,\xe2\x80\x99 replied he emphatically.\r\n\r\nMercia coloured violently upon hearing Geometrus\xe2\x80\x99 name thus mentioned,\r\nthen trying to regard it lightly, she observed\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Who is it, show me his\r\nreflection?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Not to-night. Come again, dear lady, and the portrait shall be in\r\nreadiness for thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, Swami,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Mercia sweetly; \xe2\x80\x98I perceive that thou art only\r\nplaying with me. Thou knowest full well, that neither love nor marriage\r\nis for me. If I win my case, I return to my post. My work is my\r\nbridegroom; I am bound to no other; for therein is centred my every\r\nthought\xe2\x80\x94my whole life-work.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The observation of the heavenly bodies shall be thy life-work no\r\nlonger; thou art called to do work even more glorious than the study of\r\nthe great universe; for thou art destined to rule millions of human\r\nbeings, whose happiness depends upon thy wisdom, whose well-being is\r\nassured by thy just administration. Princes shall pay thee homage: the\r\ngreat ones of the earth shall be proud of thy friendship. All nations\r\nshall vie with each other in showing thee honour; and thine own people\r\nshall love and adore thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe Soul-reader uttered his prophecy as one in a dream. With his hands\r\nclasped together, and quivering with the violence of his emotion, he\r\nseemed insensible to his surroundings. His great dark eyes were filled\r\nwith a wonderful light, whose luminous rays seemed to possess the power\r\nof reaching into futurity. Unconsciously to himself, the waves of\r\nsoul-sympathy filled the air, and entering Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s system set her heart\r\nbeating wildly with an ecstatic pleasure, that was an entirely new\r\nexperience.\r\n\r\nTrembling with delight she awaited the moment when the fever of his\r\nexcitement should have subsided; and searched his countenance for the\r\nfirst sign, that she might question him further.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, Swami,\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed, at length; for she could wait no\r\nlonger\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98whose kingdom shall I govern, and where are my dominions? Is it\r\nwell that one so ignorant of State affairs as I should be advanced to\r\nsuch immense responsibility\xe2\x80\x94such power\xe2\x80\x94such glory? Thou hast indeed\r\npainted a picture glowing with bright colour. Should not thy psychic\r\npower point to some experienced potentate, more worthy than I? Is not\r\nthis a word-blunder\xe2\x80\x94some curious coincidence of name that hath upset thy\r\ncalculations? It is not I, Mercia, the astronomer, who is destined for\r\nthis brilliant future; this most glorious career?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is thou, Mercia, and no other,\xe2\x80\x99 responded Swami impressively\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98there\r\nis no king, or high potentate better fitted for this proud position. If\r\nthou art filled with doubts, see the proof, and banish thy scepticism\r\nforthwith. Come hither, and look upon thy portrait, brain-painted upon\r\nthe sensitive plate beneath the crystal.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nTaking her hand he led her, all quivering with emotion, into the dark\r\nchamber, when turning on the energy he displayed the glittering picture,\r\nablaze with brilliant colouring; every figure presenting that aspect of\r\nroundness, which seemed to endow it almost with life.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh! It is myself\xe2\x80\x94my very self!\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed excitedly, her face lit\r\nup with the intensity of her varying sensations. \xe2\x80\x98How beautiful! Is it\r\npossible that I shall ever look like that? What splendid jewelled robes!\r\nWhat a magnificent crown, all ablaze with costly diamonds, sapphires,\r\nemeralds, and rubies! How rich the Indian gold appears of which the\r\nthrone is composed, set in contrast with the white marble of the floor!\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What a glorious assemblage of Eastern princes, paying homage to their\r\nEmpress, and arrayed in all their courtly splendour! This is, truly, a\r\nscene from some ancient Eastern fairy tale, told thousands of years ago\r\nby the imaginative Asiatic, and thou, Swami, hast made my portrait its\r\ncentre-piece. Is it not so?\xe2\x80\x99 she inquired; for her inherent modesty made\r\nher doubt again.\r\n\r\nThen, Swami, his dark, speaking eyes filling with tears, and his heart\r\nswelling with deep disappointment at seeing her doubt his integrity, for\r\na moment turned upon her a sad, reproachful gaze; when immediately, a\r\nsudden passion seized him, forcing him prematurely, and against his\r\njudgment, to give it utterance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia, dost thou doubt me? Would I deceive the one being for whom my\r\nheart yearns? I love thee\xe2\x80\x94I love thee, thou gifted one! Thou art,\r\nindeed, soul of my soul, life of my life! Thou art the true living\r\nelixir; the true soul-energy which can for all time support my spirit.\r\nThou dost inspire a new energy into my being\xe2\x80\x94a new goal for my\r\naspirations! Thy life-essence can alone mingle with mine, for only thy\r\nsoul can hold communion with mine.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Physically, I have never before seen thee. These material, and natural\r\nmirrors of the human brain have never until now reflected thine image on\r\ntheir surface; nevertheless, I have gazed on thee through the medium of\r\nmy soul-sight, and have drank in the delight of thy beauty.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have looked into thy very soul, and read its inmost workings\xe2\x80\x94thy\r\nbeautiful unsullied soul, clear as the limpid waters.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Thy thought is no longer thine own; it is MINE, by the gift of DIVINE\r\nLOVE! Yea, thou art mine, and I am thine!\xe2\x80\x99 Swami gave utterance to his\r\npassionate ecstasy as one in a dream, where the faculties being highly\r\nexalted create sensations of the most delightful character.\r\n\r\nHis face, beautiful in feature, and spiritual in expression at all\r\ntimes, was now irradiated with the glowing fire of love.\r\n\r\nThis new emotion filled him with a subtle rapture, imparting to him a\r\nnew fervour that lent a charm to every look and motion.\r\n\r\nHis dreamy eyes had turned intensely brilliant, their excitement\r\nspreading to every muscle of the face, imparted over all his countenance\r\na delicious softness, that instantly set every nerve in Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s frame\r\na-throbbing.\r\n\r\nTo her, as to him, it was indeed, a supreme moment, making her dumb by\r\nreason of its intensity, as of its suddenness and power. Her countenance\r\nwas overspread with the warm glow of the unseen, mystic force, while her\r\nbosom heaved with tumultuous emotions. Speechless she sat, with downcast\r\neyes, lost in a silent joy, while delicious sensations that were\r\nentirely new to her, thrilled her whole frame.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Is this then LOVE!\xe2\x80\x99 she exclaimed at length; while a tone of ineffable\r\ntenderness pervaded her utterance, making her voice low, soft, and\r\nmelodious.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Am I then too, a victim to this conqueror of the world\xe2\x80\x94a prisoner bound\r\nin sweet captivity, with not the faintest wish to cast away my fetters?\r\nIs this that strange and subtle power that guides and shapes the\r\ndestinies of the whole world; whose dominion the strongest bow to, whose\r\nsceptre sways over prince and peasant?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Even so, sweet Mercia, this is love. This is that which the Gods gave\r\nto sweeten the labours of mankind: for who could bear the burden of life\r\nfrom birth to death without this gracious comfort to sustain him?\xe2\x80\x99\r\nanswered Swami, as moving nearer to her side he took her hand in his,\r\nand covered it with passionate kisses.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I had thought,\xe2\x80\x99 she murmured in a low voice \xe2\x80\x98that love was not for me;\r\nthat my life should be devoted to my work. That the honour attained by\r\nthe close fulfilment of my duties would be ample reward.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My ambition was to endeavour to be the best astronomer the world has\r\never seen. But now this dream has passed away, I am even as other women,\r\nwho love and are beloved, and seek no more.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My beloved, this is the sum of life\xe2\x80\x99s happiness. Without love life is a\r\nmere wilderness. He who goes through life unloved and unloving has\r\nwasted his existence.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The ascetic hopes for great reward when he reaches the Heaven of his\r\ndesires; but man may make or mar his own Paradise by his own hand. His\r\nown course of life shapes it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To me, Swami,\xe2\x80\x99 whispered Mercia earnestly, \xe2\x80\x98it is happiness supreme to\r\nknow that thou art near. The world may shower its favours, or award its\r\nindifference: it is all the same to me. I am satisfied with the\r\nknowledge of thy love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And I am mad with joy!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Swami passionately, as he covered her\r\nface with ardent kisses; the first he had ever bestowed on woman; the\r\nfirst she had ever received from man.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Once I thought,\xe2\x80\x99 she resumed, \xe2\x80\x98that the tender regard in which I held\r\nGeometrus was known by this name. But now mine eyes are opened. I see\r\nthat Friendship, not Love, inspired my affection. This new emotion hath\r\nanother birth; a different force behind it: for notwithstanding what has\r\nhappened this night I feel the same sincere regard for him. His love for\r\nme never gave birth to the feeling that thine hath done: for I\r\ndeliberately disregarded it, deeming my work of greater importance. But\r\nfor thee, Swami, there is nothing I would not do\xe2\x80\x94even to die; for life\r\nwithout thy love would be a living death.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Swami, starting at the name: \xe2\x80\x98In my own great joy\r\nI had forgotten his disappointment. His loss is my great gain. I would I\r\ncould comfort him by making him acquainted with the honourable future\r\nthat is in store for him. For he will distinguish himself above all in\r\nhis profession, and the whole world shall honour him.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Dear, dear Geometrus, thou dost indeed deserve it!\xe2\x80\x99 cried she\r\nenthusiastically, for her heart pained at the thought of what his sorrow\r\nwould be in losing her. \xe2\x80\x98But tell me, Swami, of my coming glory. Where\r\nis this Empire that I am destined to govern, and how can such a\r\nwonderful event be brought about?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is the Empire of India, my sweet one; it is the home of my\r\nfathers\xe2\x80\x94my own beautiful country!\xe2\x80\x99 he exclaimed rapturously. \xe2\x80\x98Thou wilt\r\nbe chosen by the vote of the nation as their first Empress. To thee is\r\ngiven the honour of establishing the Royal Line for India! Thou and I,\r\nMercia; our children, and children\xe2\x80\x99s children shall hold the reins of\r\nGovernment through all generations.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Then will be re-established the sovereignty of my forefathers, who\r\nreigned in India five hundred years ago. When thy coronation takes place\r\nwill be fulfilled the prophecy of my father\xe2\x80\x99s father who predicted that\r\nin one hundred years a woman, young, beautiful, and talented, should\r\nreign over his country, dwelling with her people in happiness and\r\npeace.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98How can these things be?\xe2\x80\x99 mused Mercia, as she clasped her hands\r\ntogether oppressed with this vision of greatness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98THE GREAT TEST TOURNAMENT is the first step towards its attainment. In\r\na few days it is here; victory will be ours, and India will be free to\r\nchoose her own Ruler. Leave the rest to God, for thou hast no part in\r\nits arrangement. The honour will be awarded, unsought by thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I have still all to learn concerning the Administration of this great\r\ncountry,\xe2\x80\x99 said she reflectively. \xe2\x80\x98It is true I am acquainted with its\r\nhistory from a scholar\xe2\x80\x99s point of view, but practically I know nothing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To rule a people successfully, we should be in perfect sympathy with\r\nthem; understanding their mode of thought, customs, and prejudices;\r\nactually knowing their inner life.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is impossible to rule a people justly, and legislate to meet their\r\nwants fully and completely, except we be in touch with them throughout.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I will teach thee, Mercia, all this,\xe2\x80\x99 said Swami eagerly. \xe2\x80\x98I will be\r\never at thy side to tell thee all that thou wouldst know. See,\xe2\x80\x99 said he,\r\npointing to his noble tiers of books, for now they were in his library,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98we two will read and study them together, and from those silent\r\nteachers of every age gain the piled-up wisdom of numerous generations,\r\nin a short space.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What a treasury of ancient lore!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Mercia, as rising from her\r\nseat, she went from tier to tier examining their contents. \xe2\x80\x98I shall have\r\na continual feast\xe2\x80\x94a daily enjoyment of wonderful Oriental literature, as\r\nsoon as I have mastered the necessary knowledge of up-to-date\r\nadministration, which of course, shall have my first attention.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And by marking the mistakes of the present Administration, correct\r\nthine own,\xe2\x80\x99 added Swami, as he gazed lovingly upon her every movement.\r\n\r\nThus conversing far into the night, on this most absorbing topic; to the\r\none, newly-born, and deeply interesting, by reason of its approaching\r\nassociations; to the other, for its memories of the past; its\r\nunsatisfactory present,\xe2\x80\x94from a patriot\xe2\x80\x99s point of view,\xe2\x80\x94and its promise\r\nof a glorious future, the hours sped away unconsciously; till at length,\r\nMercia felt a languor stealing over her; which Swami perceiving suddenly\r\nexclaimed\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Dearest, thou art wearied. It is not meet to go forth at this\r\nhour. Be my guest to-night, and to-morrow we two will attend the trial,\r\nfor now thou art my especial care.\xe2\x80\x99 Then summoning his attendants he\r\nbade them bring in certain refreshments of jellies, and light wines;\r\nafter partaking of which, the servants conducted her to a richly\r\nfurnished sleeping-chamber. Amidst the pearly-tinted silken sheets, and\r\nrichly embroidered coverlet, all delicately perfumed, Mercia sank into a\r\nsound and refreshing slumber, giving no thought to the trial on the\r\nmorrow, or the difficulties her case would present now that she had\r\npractically accepted the king\xe2\x80\x99s pardon, without her counsel\xe2\x80\x99s consent.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XI\r\n\r\n\r\nThe next morning when Mercia awoke and found herself in this luxurious\r\nbedchamber, surrounded by every comfort that modern invention could\r\nbestow; for every article of utility represented some rare work of art;\r\nand every imaginable want was supplied by the most ingenious\r\narrangements; it seemed to her that she had gone through a series of\r\ndelightful scenes in a dream of wonderful vividness.\r\n\r\nThe recollection of the previous evening, in which so much was seen, and\r\nso much experienced, made it difficult to believe that it possessed any\r\ngreater solidity than the pictures in some stereoscopic arrangement. But\r\nthe great fact that a new and supreme joy reigned in her bosom\xe2\x80\x94that she\r\nloved, and was beloved\xe2\x80\x94proved convincing evidence of its reality. For\r\nthe first time in her life she felt the supreme happiness\xe2\x80\x94the\r\nunutterable joy of this unique exaltation that comes once, or perhaps\r\ntwice, in a lifetime to every human being.\r\n\r\nWhen she had descended the magnificently carved staircase that led into\r\nthe reception rooms, she was met by Swami himself, who conducted her\r\ninto the breakfast-room where an inviting meal was awaiting her. The\r\nmost nourishing dishes, where the palate and the digestion were equally\r\nconsidered being placed on the table by native servants, as soon as she\r\nhad put in an appearance, to which she paid fair justice.\r\n\r\nShe was in excellent spirits; notwithstanding the thought of the ordeal\r\nthat lay before her; for nothing could damp, or depress them while under\r\nthe influence of the present bliss, and future dignities promised her.\r\n\r\nSwami, too, looked supremely happy. A quiet, suppressed joy beamed in\r\nhis deep, dreamy eyes, which shed its light over his expressive\r\ncountenance. His voice too, had a special softness in its tone, that was\r\npeculiarly charming to Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s sensitive ear.\r\n\r\nIt was, in truth, the most delightful meal for these two beings that had\r\nbeen their lot to partake of; the lives of both having been hitherto\r\nsolitary, laborious, and even ascetic to some extent.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Now, isn\xe2\x80\x99t this delightful!\xe2\x80\x99 laughed Mercia, gaily. \xe2\x80\x98How nice\r\neverything tastes when one has good company! King Solomon knew what he\r\nwas talking about when he uttered oracularly\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x9cBetter a dinner of herbs\r\nwhere love is, than the stalled ox,\xe2\x80\x9d et cetera; but in our case we score\r\nheavily, having the enjoyment of both commodities.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The proverb holds good all the same;\xe2\x80\x99 replied Swami; \xe2\x80\x98with thee, my\r\nLife, the dinner of herbs would be a banquet, for thy face is a\r\ncontinual feast for me; thy presence would sweeten the coarsest fare.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98When I enter my kingdom, Swami\xe2\x80\x94but there\xe2\x80\x94I cannot realise my future\r\nglory\xe2\x80\x94I feel that this is greatness thrust upon me! I cannot conceive\r\nwhy the people of India should think of me\xe2\x80\x94me\xe2\x80\x94a poor astronomer! I have\r\nno regal blood in my veins\xe2\x80\x94no glorious ancestry to boast of.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is true my mother accomplished some good for the women of India,\r\ndevoting a great part of her life in the promotion of their welfare; but\r\nthat can scarcely bring any weight to the balance in my favour, in such\r\na case as this: the whole matter to my mind is inexplicable,\xe2\x80\x99 said she\r\nreflectively.\r\n\r\nSwami smiled, as he watched the puzzled look upon her face, for of\r\ncourse it was all clear enough to him why the people of India had picked\r\nher out as the representative of their country\xe2\x80\x99s eminence and glory;\r\nafter a pause, he thought it no harm to tell her somewhat of the\r\nsituation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98There are but two topics talked of just now, not only throughout this\r\nEmpire but the whole world. They form subject for conversation\r\neverywhere. The Court; the spirit caf\xc3\xa9, the theatre, the club, the\r\ndinner-table; the street corner, the race-course, wherever men\r\ncongregate, or women either, the chief food for talk is THE GREAT TEST\r\nTOURNAMENT, and the impeachment for high treason, of Mercia, the\r\nAstronomer Royal, and her two friends\xe2\x80\x94Geometrus, the Assistant\r\nAstronomer, and Sadbag the Politician.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is well known how the case stands, for Sadbag gave it to the whole\r\nworld immediately before his imprisonment. Everyone believes in thine\r\ninnocence, and the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s guilt. They say he ought to be indicted for\r\nperjury\xe2\x80\x94but from his position that is impossible. There are even now\r\nhundreds of letters in thy counsel\xe2\x80\x99s keeping expressive of the sympathy\r\nof every country. France offers thee a similar position in her Empire as\r\nthat thou hast resigned here, Russia does the same, even before they\r\nknow the issue of the trial; but when thine innocence is proved beyond\r\ndispute, every country will vie with each other in showing thee honour;\r\nthe only method open to them of displaying their contempt of Felicitas\xe2\x80\x99\r\nunworthy conduct. A two-fold motive will inspire India to top them all\r\nin glorifying thee. One is sincere admiration for thy character and\r\nattainments, the other is the punishment of their country\xe2\x80\x99s tyrant, by\r\nthe promotion of one he sought to ruin; for it was Felicitas\xe2\x80\x99 influence\r\nwhich made the WORLD\xe2\x80\x99S TRIBUNAL TRIAL of no account for India.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98For this reason they do not bless him\xe2\x80\x94they curse him by electing\r\nthee\xe2\x80\x94his enemy\xe2\x80\x94an enemy of his own making\xe2\x80\x94for of all men thou shouldst\r\ndespise him utterly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I do heartily despise him\xe2\x80\x94he\xe2\x80\x99s the meanest cur I know,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Mercia\r\nexcitedly; \xe2\x80\x98he is capable of saying anything to save his own skin: he\r\nhad scarcely finished protesting how much he loved me, when to suit the\r\nsituation he turned round and made a false charge against me, and my two\r\nfriends who were witnesses of my innocence.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That matches my experience of him to a tee,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Swami, who was\r\ngrowing quite communicative with Mercia. \xe2\x80\x98He came yesterday to have his\r\nfortune told; he wished to learn the issue of the trial, hoping all\r\nwould go well with him. I showed him the principal phases of the trial,\r\nprojected on the psychic-plate beneath the stereoscopic crystal, the\r\nsight of which made him boil with anger\xe2\x80\x94he was vexed beyond description,\r\nand for my pains in bringing out these splendid psychodevelopments I\r\nonly got his growlings to the effect that he wished he had never\r\ntroubled himself at all to seek my aid. \xe2\x80\x9cThou wouldst have me curse,\r\nwhen I can only bless,\xe2\x80\x9d said I, and gave him good counsel, at which he\r\nfumed impatiently. But of all vacillating hounds, I think he takes the\r\ncake. One moment love, or rather desire, then fear, envy, revenge,\r\nswayed him by turns: he changed about like a weathercock moved by every\r\nwind.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98However, fear was uppermost in his mind, all through, and reached its\r\nclimax when he beheld the pictures, so finally he decided to take his\r\nflight to Berlin where he intends remaining until the trial be well\r\nover, and all its attendant gossip grown stale, _as he hopes_.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But the 1st of May will bring him back; he cannot miss the GREAT TEST\r\nTOURNAMENT which quickly follows to-day\xe2\x80\x99s event. Both will end\r\ndisastrously for him, and none will say \xe2\x80\x9che\xe2\x80\x99s sorry.\xe2\x80\x9d\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I\xe2\x80\x99m sorry I can\xe2\x80\x99t feel sorry either,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Mercia laughingly. \xe2\x80\x98But\r\nSwami, I must away now, and explain to my counsel this new aspect of\r\naffairs. He must be prepared for the changes that have taken place last\r\nnight\xe2\x80\x94the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s withdrawal of the suit; his flight, and my discharge\r\nfrom prison. It is necessary that he be made acquainted with these\r\naltered conditions, and shape his course accordingly.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My carriage is in readiness for thee, Mercia, at any moment thou art\r\nready to depart. Shall I accompany thee, or no?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I would prefer seeing him alone, dear Swami, I am not prepared to make\r\nmy lawyer my confessor, as would be almost necessary if I were in thy\r\ncompany at such a time. But I count upon thy presence near me at the\r\ntrial, for few are my friends. I have led the life of a recluse almost,\r\nso great has been my devotion to my work, and this is how that ingrate\r\nhas rewarded me. Farewell, dearest, for one hour only\xe2\x80\x94in that time I\r\nwill see thee at the court.\xe2\x80\x99 And Mercia stepping into the well-appointed\r\ncarriage belonging to Swami was driven away to the barrister\xe2\x80\x99s.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XII\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Great Justice Hall, as it was named, was of such dimensions that it\r\nafforded accommodation for several thousands of persons, who on this\r\noccasion of unprecedented interest availed themselves of it without\r\ndelay. A long line of carriages containing the _\xc3\xa9lite_ of society\r\nawaited the opening of the great door with that admirable spirit of\r\npatience which the aristocracy display on great occasions. A few of\r\nthese vehicles were drawn by horses, but most were impelled by electric\r\nmotive force.\r\n\r\nA _queue_ of persons who kept no \xe2\x80\x98carriage steerer,\xe2\x80\x99 doing their own\r\ndriving usually, had come on foot, and had taken their places in the\r\norder of their arrival, for the indecent rioting and pushing for\r\npriority of places at the doors of public buildings was put down by this\r\ntime, a lady member of Parliament having brought a bill to make this\r\nunruly behaviour punishable as street-brawling.\r\n\r\nBy the time the Court was opened every available seat was filled, not\r\nonly by the _\xc3\xa9lite_ of the Empire, but by members of the Continental\r\naristocracy also; including two Crowned Heads among their number. On all\r\ngreat occasions, when a crush was expected, the public were admitted by\r\nticket, which could be obtained by application to the Usher, who issued\r\nno greater number than the accommodation afforded.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor Nicholas, the Fourth, of Russia, accompanied by his Empress;\r\nthe newly-crowned Emperor, Louis XX., of France, occupied seats set\r\napart for the _cr\xc3\xaame de la cr\xc3\xaame_ of the aristocracy.\r\n\r\nIt was, in point of fact, attended by a crowd of great personages, whose\r\nimportance could not admit of their presence at any ordinary affair,\r\nhowever swift the means of locomotion lessened the inconvenience of\r\ntravel.\r\n\r\nIt was not every day that an Emperor appeared in the witness box, and on\r\nsuch an unparalleled occasion it was necessary to make an effort and not\r\nmiss such a rare treat.\r\n\r\nThen Mercia, herself, had occupied such a high position in everybody\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nestimation that the charge against her of High Treason, by her\r\nthreatened assault on the sacred person of his Majesty, gave a piquancy\r\nto the affair which no vulgar assassin could have afforded. Besides,\r\nthose \xe2\x80\x98in the know,\xe2\x80\x99 expected to hear evidence so deliciously spicy that\r\nto miss it would have been barbarity. Foreign journals having given\r\nstrong hints of the situation in their gossiping columns, inspired by\r\nSadbag\xe2\x80\x99s telegrams to the secretaries of clubs in various cities,\r\nincluding several continental clubs among their number.\r\n\r\nOf course the newspapers circulating in the Teutonic Empire were much\r\ntoo circumspect to hint at the true aspect of the affair. To have\r\nanticipated evidence; or to have expressed an opinion on a case still\r\npending would have led to serious difficulties, proving most\r\nembarrassing to the proprietors. Consequently, a distracting shade of\r\nmystery surrounded the coming trial, making it particularly attractive\r\nto everybody.\r\n\r\nWhilst awaiting the proceedings, the anxious auditory amused themselves\r\nby giving expression to their private opinions, which no law of libel at\r\nany period of social history has been found powerful enough to repress.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What glorious fun!\xe2\x80\x99 cried the young sprig of nobility, \xe2\x80\x98Felicitas\r\nfalling out with his lady Astronomer. I wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t miss it for worlds!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What a disgraceful episode in the annals of Royalty!\xe2\x80\x99 remarked the\r\nelderly prude, who was evidently as anxious as the fastest of\r\nswell-ocracy to listen to the forthcoming details.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t be Mercia for millions! It is altogether frightful to have\r\nsuch dealings with a MAN!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the serious young lady; who showed\r\nher abhorrence of such indecency by bringing her opera glasses to scan\r\nthe scene more critically.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The Emperor has done quite right, to make a stand against the\r\nmachinations of rabid Republicans;\xe2\x80\x99 remarked a staunch Royalist. \xe2\x80\x98We\r\nwon\xe2\x80\x99t know where we are if this kind of thing goes unpunished. It is\r\nevident on the face of it that it is a conspiracy to lower the Imperial\r\nprestige, so as to pave the way for a Republic, when the government of\r\nthe Empire would become a hotbed of office seekers, rivalling America of\r\na hundred years ago, whose motto was,\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x9cNational good go hang, we\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\nfeather our nest while we may.\xe2\x80\x9d\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This comes of the preposterous advancement of women: had the Astronomer\r\nRoyal been a _man_ such a scene could not have occurred,\xe2\x80\x99 observed an\r\nacidulated Science-failure of the male sex, whose ill-success at\r\ncompetitive exams. had rendered vicious.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98If it be a political intrigue, as the Royalist journals aver, how can\r\nsex affect her loyalty? The same might have happened with a variation,\r\nhad the Astronomer Royal been of the male sex,\xe2\x80\x99 returned his neighbour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is a love-intrigue, ending with the usual quarrel,\xe2\x80\x99 whispered an\r\nelderly Solomon, wise in the knowledge of the world\xe2\x80\x99s weakness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I thought Mercia incapable of love-intrigues, or any other, being a\r\nperfect model of all the virtues,\xe2\x80\x99 answered his neighbour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All women are \xe2\x80\x9cperfect\xe2\x80\x9d till they\xe2\x80\x99re tried,\xe2\x80\x99 uttered the same cynic\r\ndryly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Which means that Mercia is no better than she should be,\xe2\x80\x99 laughed\r\nanother.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Perhaps she was _too_ good,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked a third.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Which way?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired his friend, poking him with his elbow.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That the evidence must show,\xe2\x80\x99 replied another of the coterie.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Was there ever a case where the honest, downright truth was given on\r\neither side? I never knew one,\xe2\x80\x99 emphatically declared another of the\r\ngroup. \xe2\x80\x98It has been the same through all time,\xe2\x80\x99 he added after a pause,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98for an eminent judge of the nineteenth century averred that throughout\r\nthe whole course of his long experience on the woolsack he had never\r\ncome across a case where the evidence was not, in more or less degree,\r\nsuppressed.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The world\xe2\x80\x99s stage keeps pretty much the same all through the piece;\r\nhumanity is very human yet;\xe2\x80\x99 sighed a white-haired old gentleman, with a\r\nvery sweet expression on his countenance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It will be _sinfully_ disappointing if the case is hushed up,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nwhispered one man to his neighbour, in another part of the Hall. \xe2\x80\x98The\r\nEmperor is _non est_: he has _bunked_!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What! Has he fled? Impossible! He dare not do so. _He_ threw the\r\ngauntlet, and must abide the issue. He _cannot_ run away,\xe2\x80\x99 returned his\r\nfriend who was bewildered with amazement.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All the same, he is off, gone to Berlin on important State affairs,\r\nleaving word that the trial could be abandoned altogether, or take its\r\nchance without him.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I hope it won\xe2\x80\x99t be permitted to fall through,\xe2\x80\x99 cried the other man\r\nexcitedly; \xe2\x80\x98it would be monstrous after all this fuss, and preparation.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I cannot find an adjective in our language strong enough to express\r\n_my_ disappointment if it collapse. I want to see Mercia righted; she is\r\nhonour and probity itself, and the opportunity of clearing her character\r\nshould not be denied her, notwithstanding the absence of her accuser.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98See,\xe2\x80\x99 said his friend, \xe2\x80\x98the Empress is taking her seat near Nicholas of\r\nRussia, that looks healthy\xe2\x80\x94she is doubtless expecting a _d\xc3\xa9nouement_ of\r\nwhich she wishes to be the witness.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But there is no Felicitas to escort her, that proves the account of his\r\nflight to be trustworthy.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I wish her joy of the situation,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked an all-knowing one; \xe2\x80\x98she\xe2\x80\x99ll\r\nwish a thousand times over she had kept away.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nJust before the great clock pointed at half-past ten, disengaged\r\nbarristers, who came to see and hear for the sake of gaining experience,\r\ntook their appointed seats, for this custom was formally recognised.\r\n\r\nCounsel engaged in the case, arrayed in gown and wig, appeared also,\r\nwhose capabilities were freely discussed by the onlookers.\r\n\r\nBut, when Mercia, escorted by the renowned Swami entered the Hall, so\r\nuniversal was the feeling in her favour, that a great burst of applause\r\ngreeted her appearance.\r\n\r\nIt was as spontaneous as it was unusual, for that great mass appeared to\r\nbe moved by one emotion, which could only find utterance by an intense\r\nroar of hand-clapping; signifying as plainly as if delivered in so many\r\nwords\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Mercia, we believe in thee: before we hear thy defence we feel in\r\nour hearts that thine is a just cause, and thou art good and true to the\r\ncore!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia raised her eyes, and looking round at the assembled people,\r\nsmiled sweetly, and bowed her head in acknowledgment of the sympathy\r\naccorded her; while attendant ushers vainly called for silence, deeming\r\nit their duty to put down all demonstrations of approval.\r\n\r\nShe was attired in a rich crimson velvet gown that fell in graceful\r\nfolds from her shapely shoulders; the hue of which lent a deeper\r\nrose-tint to her cheeks, whose colour had somewhat paled during her\r\nincarceration.\r\n\r\nBut what appeared most inexplicable to the multitude was the expression\r\nof serene sweetness that overspread her countenance. It was indeed an\r\nindefinable expression, indicating a variety of emotions. Joy, content,\r\nintense happiness, and possession, all united in imparting to her face a\r\nlook of subdued and silent triumph; but he who could gaze beneath the\r\nsurface might have read that LOVE, all conquering LOVE had made his home\r\nin her bosom, and through her brilliant eyes, illumined with a divine\r\nradiance those windows of her soul.\r\n\r\nAll bent their gaze upon her. The noble stature; the perfectly moulded\r\nform; the well-shaped head; the exquisite beauty of every feature,\r\nlighted by that divine expression which shone from out her star-like\r\neyes, brought a murmur of admiration, and suppressed enthusiasm from\r\nevery side.\r\n\r\nAll through the Hall it spread itself; and Swami perceived that in those\r\nmillions of brain-waves floating round him, admiration for the woman who\r\nheld his soul was the one prevailing emotion.\r\n\r\nAfter the first burst of enthusiasm had subsided Swami himself came in\r\nfor notice.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Dayanand Swami! The great thought-reader!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed different persons\r\n_sotto voce_, as each one recognised him.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Whoever saw the Eastern Hermit in a public place before? What means\r\nthis strange innovation?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Now this is getting mysterious,\xe2\x80\x99 observed Prince Osbert gaily to his\r\nneighbour, Louis, of France, \xe2\x80\x98our great Magician escorting our fair\r\nAstronomer\xe2\x80\x94what in the name of goodness is going to happen?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Beauty holds Magic, all the world over, and star-gazing and\r\nthought-reading complete the full magician,\xe2\x80\x99 answered the French monarch\r\ngallantly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I bet she\xe2\x80\x99s been to get her fortune told, and Swami, like the rest of\r\nus, has succumbed. But no fellow has the shadow of a chance with her;\r\nshe\xe2\x80\x99s gone on Geometrus, that melancholy being sitting yonder. He\xe2\x80\x99s the\r\ncause of all the row,\xe2\x80\x99 whispered Osbert oracularly, \xe2\x80\x98but for him our\r\ncousin Felicitas might not have fared so badly. However, \xe2\x80\x99tis better so;\r\n\xe2\x80\x99tis time his wings were clipped.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All the world avers,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Louis earnestly, \xe2\x80\x98that this beauteous\r\nbeing is a slave to Duty. Day and night, year in, year out, she\xe2\x80\x99s ever\r\nat her post, and gives no thought to love, the essence of existence.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nWhile these observations were going on, the three Judges, attired as in\r\ndays of old, took their seats with suitable solemnity, when the Court\r\nopened with the same formularies as had been in use for hundreds of\r\nyears: for the Courts of Law more than any other institution cling to\r\nthe ancient order of things with tenacity.\r\n\r\nEven the old-fashioned blunder of saying \xe2\x80\x98you\xe2\x80\x99 for \xe2\x80\x98thee\xe2\x80\x99 was still\r\nadhered to in the Law Courts, verbal innovations being equally\r\ndiscountenanced.\r\n\r\nAfter a short delay the auditory was startled by hearing the charge\r\ndelivered, of which the following is the substance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia Montgomery, you are charged with feloniously attempting the life\r\nof His Imperial Majesty, Albert Felicitas, Supreme Ruler and Governor of\r\nGreat Britain and Ireland, Emperor of the Teutonic, Indian, and African\r\nEmpires, which murderous attempt is accounted HIGH TREASON by the law of\r\nthese Realms. Do you plead Guilty or not Guilty?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nBefore the accused could possibly have time to give her answer, the\r\nPublic Prosecutor interfered.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I am empowered to convey to the prisoner the favour of his Imperial\r\nMajesty\xe2\x80\x99s clemency. Taking into consideration the prisoner\xe2\x80\x99s long and\r\nvaluable service rendered to her country, also the great loyalty she has\r\never evinced towards her Sovereign during that period of faithful\r\nservice, the Emperor has decided to overlook the sudden outburst of\r\npassion made by his otherwise faithful subject, and illustrious\r\nAstronomer, and has therefore conveyed to her his Royal Pardon, in\r\nproper form, forthwith.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The prisoner has been already made acquainted with this fact and was in\r\nthe enjoyment of her freedom last evening,\xe2\x80\x99 he added, regarding Mercia\r\nwith a glance full of meaning.\r\n\r\nThen Mercia, motioning her counsel to keep his seat a moment longer, and\r\nrising to her full height, replied in low but emphatic tones\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Being\r\naltogether innocent of the crime of which I am charged, I am unable to\r\naccept the clemency offered by his Most Gracious Majesty.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It will be soon enough to pray for pardon when I am proved guilty. If\r\nthe Court will permit, I beg that the trial proceed, and my character\r\nfor ever cleared from all unworthy imputations.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I, Mercia, the Astronomer, must leave this Court with my name pure,\r\nunsullied, and honourable; or hide my head in shame for ever.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Long live Mercia! Long live Mercia!\xe2\x80\x99 resounded in mighty force\r\nthroughout that great Hall. The whole multitude was with her in one\r\nintense wave of sympathy; for she had given utterance to their own\r\nfeeling. They desired to bottom the whole business, and place their\r\nbeloved Astronomer on the proud pedestal she had formerly occupied.\r\n\r\nBesides, the Englishman\xe2\x80\x99s love of justice was another factor in the\r\ncase, and no matter what the issue, they desired to see fair play\r\nthroughout.\r\n\r\nSwami looked radiant with happiness as he pressed towards her side eager\r\nto render her whatever trifling service possible at such a moment.\r\n\r\nGeometrus wore a serious and downcast aspect, as if he believed that\r\nnothing would go right. Sadbag sitting near him, with a mysterious\r\nparcel by his side, seemed the picture of suppressed satisfaction.\r\n\r\nWhen everybody had quieted down Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s counsel got upon his legs, and\r\nrequested that the Public Prosecutor should state his case, to which\r\ndemand the Judges agreed. Thereupon, the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s counsel made his\r\ncharge according to the manner in which he had been instructed, but\r\nhaving no witnesses to produce, save Prince Osbert, who averred he saw\r\nnothing, from which testimony no amount of questioning could make him\r\ndepart, the Defence was commenced without delay.\r\n\r\nRising to his feet Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s counsel proceeded with his speech.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To-day I am placed in a position as painful to me as a subject, as it\r\nis unique in the annals of a Law Court. Painful, insomuch as it is\r\nnecessary for the ends of justice that I shall have to accuse my\r\nSovereign of conduct so base that the meanest subject of his Realms\r\nwould blush to be found guilty of the like.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I am in a position to show that the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s visits to his Astronomer\r\nwere not made either in the interests of science, or those of his\r\nsubjects: no such justifiable, or worthy motives prompted his course of\r\naction. On the contrary, these interviews were made with the intention\r\nof corrupting her pure mind, and of guiling her away from her duty.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By his artful insinuations he endeavoured to gradually lead her on to\r\ndisregard her vows of abstention from Love, or Marriage, with a view of\r\npaving the way for his own purposes. He dwelt upon the folly of\r\ncontinuing a course of asceticism, whose only effect would be\r\nultimately, a serious injury to her health and happiness; and she in the\r\nperfect innocence of her pure mind, accepted it at the moment, as a\r\npiece of fatherly advice that should not be disregarded.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Like the Eastern fable of Eve and the Serpent, she listened to the\r\nvoice of the Tempter not knowing he was planning her downfall. But\r\nluckier than our First Mother, Mercia discovered her mistake before\r\ntouching the forbidden fruit.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98From the evidence you will learn that the Tempter used every argument\r\nhe could think of, offering the possible and the impossible to induce\r\nher to comply. At length, with a heart bursting with mortification and\r\nindignation she essayed to leave him, when he endeavoured to forcibly\r\ndetain her; upon which she raised her ebony life-preserver to warn him\r\nfrom trespassing on her person. At this juncture he was surprised by the\r\nentrance of the Prince and Geometrus, who were amazed at a scene so\r\nunexpected. Mortified at being caught at such a moment he tried to\r\nexplain away the difficulty, and coolly turned the tables upon the lady,\r\nby accusing her of some failure in duty; at this moment who should\r\nemerge from a corner of the apartment, which was partially concealed by\r\na large screen, but Mr. Sadbag, whose presence it will be my duty to\r\nexplain.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It appears that this gentleman having just purchased a phonograph,\r\nconstructed on a new principle, and being wishful to present it to one\r\nof his grand-children, as a scientific plaything, he carried it to\r\nMistress Mercia with a view of obtaining a record of her conversation,\r\nwhich he expected would prove equally instructive, as interesting to his\r\ngrand-children.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It was his intention to ask this favour, as soon as she made her\r\nappearance, and in order that her time, usually so valuable, should not\r\nbe unduly taken up, he opened out his instrument, making it ready for\r\nthe reception of the sound-waves. Finding, at length, that he would have\r\nto wait some little time before seeing her, he took up a book and\r\ncommenced reading, and finished by dozing off into a light slumber,\r\naccording to the manner of elderly folk with nothing to occupy their\r\nattention.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He was awakened from his sleep by the sound of voices,\xe2\x80\x94that of the\r\nEmperor, and the fair Astronomer; both evidently in a state of unusual\r\nexcitement.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To his utter annoyance he discovered that the nature of the\r\nconversation to which he was being made an unwilling listener, was of a\r\ncharacter wholly unsuitable for the presence of a third person. The\r\nsituation became more and more distressing to him; he knew not what to\r\ndo. It was impossible to leave the apartment without discovery; it was\r\nequally objectionable to reveal his presence at such a moment. With many\r\nconflicting thoughts, he finally decided to stay where he was until the\r\ntermination of the interview, when he would leave the room comfortably;\r\nat the same time forming a resolution to keep the affair a dead secret\r\nwithin his own bosom, and let it rest there for ever.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98This merciful intention on his part towards the Emperor, he was\r\ncompelled to abandon, on account of the false charge that monarch had so\r\nquickly and ingeniously invented against Mercia, whereby he hoped to\r\ncover his guilt.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I will now call upon Mr. Sadbag to open his instrument, and give us the\r\ndialogue that was so unintentionally recorded therein; but which I am\r\nafraid will prove more interesting to the company present, than edifying\r\nor instructive to that gentleman\xe2\x80\x99s progeny.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMr. Sadbag immediately sprang to his feet, and taking up the mysterious\r\nparcel proceeded to the witness box, when he requested a few moments\xe2\x80\x99\r\ngrace to adjust the mechanism of his unique witness; after which was\r\nheard in the most natural tones the voice of the Emperor in lively mood\r\nsaying\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Ah, Mistress Mercia, what cheerful looks thou dost carry to-day!\r\nMethinks thy face betokens much content: hast thou taken my words to\r\nheart, fair lady, \xe2\x80\x99twas truly excellent advice?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen followed Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s musical voice, in this wise\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Sire, thou saidst\r\nsomething concerning the sun. Thou didst talk of coming to learn more of\r\nhis condition, I believe.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen followed a little laugh, half satirical, half good-humoured from\r\nFelicitas, after which the machine said\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98I fain would know more of the\r\nsun\xe2\x80\x99s late vagaries: but it would please me infinitely better to learn\r\nsomething of thyself. Dost thou never feel lonely?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nHere a suppressed titter went round the Court, but the machine heeded it\r\nnot.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Often enough, Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 it said in Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s sweet tones, \xe2\x80\x98the hours speed\r\naway at times very quickly when I am hard at work; but when it is time\r\nto rest then the feeling of solitude overwhelms me. I get appalled at\r\nthe silence that surrounds me, and a melancholy seizes me so severely,\r\nthat I rise unable to cope with my duties.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Art thou then tired of this occupation? It is indeed too much for thee.\r\nRest a while, sweet Mercia, and let the stars take care of themselves\r\nfor a season.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThe voice of the machine grew quite pathetic here: evidently Felicitas\r\nwas growing sympathetic.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, that would spoil all my calculations,\xe2\x80\x99 said the machine, very\r\nsweetly, \xe2\x80\x98the work of years would be as nought were I to stay my hand\r\nnow. No, I will wait until my treatise on the stars is complete; then I\r\nwill take some little change for my health\xe2\x80\x99s sake.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Health and love, sweet Mercia, go hand in hand together,\xe2\x80\x99 the machine\r\nsang out in melting tones, \xe2\x80\x98let thine heart soften to its influence, and\r\nall will go well with thee. Thy melancholies will disappear; thy\r\nsolitude lightened, for thou wilt have a new theory to analyse\xe2\x80\x94a new and\r\na better one. Yes, thou canst love, Mercia, I know it; for thine eyes\r\nwere made for the conquest of man\xe2\x80\x99s heart, rather than star-gazing.\r\nCease to disregard the designs of Nature when she formed thee, and give\r\nthyself unto the pleasure of love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s sweet voice, which now had a strange, startled\r\ntone\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98I know not what answer to give in this matter\xe2\x80\x94I am yet\r\nunprepared\xe2\x80\x94perplexed with this reasoning of thine.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hast thou not felt the want of companionship, dear Mercia? Here penned\r\nin this solitude only fit for a greybeard thou dost pine, yet knoweth\r\nnot what it is ails thee. It is good to be loved, fair one, to realise\r\nhow much thy womanhood means. Hast thou never felt its joys\xe2\x80\x94its pains?\xe2\x80\x99\r\nasked the voice in a coaxing sort of tone.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But my bond, Sire, I cannot break my bond, signed by my own hand, to\r\nforswear love and marriage: no one but thyself can relieve me of this\r\nobligation,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s voice excitedly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I heartily relieve thee, then, my good Mercia: I care not for the bond\r\none iota, if that be all that\xe2\x80\x99s in thy way. Keep thy post, as thou\r\nlikest thy work so well, and enjoy the delights of love at the same\r\ntime,\xe2\x80\x99 reeled out the machine in the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s most insinuating tones.\r\n\r\nThen followed a low cry of joy, in Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s voice, and the sound of a\r\nkiss; listening ladies blushed, smart young men sniggered, and elderly\r\nmen looked as if things were getting serious.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Isn\xe2\x80\x99t that machine playing it low on the lady?\xe2\x80\x99 whispered Prince Osbert\r\nto Louis, his neighbour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Hush,\xe2\x80\x99 returned the French Emperor\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98listen, there\xe2\x80\x99s a volley of kisses\r\ngoing off\xe2\x80\x94be quiet, pray!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It\xe2\x80\x99s getting beyond a joke\xe2\x80\x94it really is! Just look at the Empress,\r\nshe\xe2\x80\x99s gone green in the face! Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s looking pretty pink, and\r\naltogether the matter is too blue for my modesty!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed the Prince,\r\nwhile bursting with suppressed mirth.\r\n\r\nAll eyes regarded the beautiful culprit seated in the witness box with\r\nincreased interest. \xe2\x80\x98Oh, thou guilty creature\xe2\x80\x94think shame to thyself!\xe2\x80\x99\r\nthe ladies\xe2\x80\x99 looks said as plainly as possible.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He\xe2\x80\x99s having a good time of it!\xe2\x80\x99 whispered one to his neighbour.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She\xe2\x80\x99s no better than she should be, after all!\xe2\x80\x99 muttered another.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Such pretty lips were made for kissing!\xe2\x80\x99 remarked another jocularly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98So it seems!\xe2\x80\x99 answered his neighbour dryly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Felicitas hasn\xe2\x80\x99t bad taste!\xe2\x80\x99 cried another.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He knows how to do it!\xe2\x80\x99 was the rejoinder.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Most entertaining, truly,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked a lady sarcastically.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Entertaining isn\xe2\x80\x99t the word for it\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x99tis scrumptious!\xe2\x80\x99 returned her\r\nhusband. \xe2\x80\x98One hears the kisses, and sees the lady; \xe2\x80\x99tis a treat for the\r\ngods!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Oh, the hussy! Don\xe2\x80\x99t look at her. What a cheek, to face it out like\r\nthis!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThese various remarks, and many more besides, occupied but a few seconds\r\nfor delivery, for the Usher calling out silence, on hearing the low\r\nmurmur of voices, the machine began talking again.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98What means the Emperor by this unheard-of liberty? What have I done\r\nthat I should be treated as a courtesan by my Sovereign?\xe2\x80\x99 cried the\r\nmachine, in a voice choked with pain and indignation.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98A courtesan!\xe2\x80\x99 repeated the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s voice, \xe2\x80\x98I would give thee a crown\r\nif I could! Thy queenly brow was truly made for one. And by the stars,\r\nthou shalt have it yet! Yes, dear Mercia, thou shalt share my throne,\r\nand rule me, my sweet, together with mine Empire.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Share thy throne and rule thine Empire! Surely, Sire, thou hast gone\r\nmad!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, truly, I am mad\xe2\x80\x94mad with love for thee, and thou knowest it,\r\nMercia, else wouldst thou have kissed my hand in acknowledgment of it?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98In acknowledgment of _thy_ love!\xe2\x80\x99 cried the machine scornfully. \xe2\x80\x98It was\r\nnot so\xe2\x80\x94_thy_ love never entered my thought.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Whose then?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus,\xe2\x80\x99 said the instrument, in Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s soft voice.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus!\xe2\x80\x99 scoffed the machine in the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s tones. \xe2\x80\x98And dost thou\r\nplace that poltroon before _me_? Am I to be flouted for _him_?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98His love is honourable, and thine is not; therein lies the difference,\r\nmy Sire,\xe2\x80\x99 the voice of Mercia replied in a propitiating tone; as if to\r\nwin the monarch over to give consent to her marriage with Geometrus.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But my love _shall be made honourable_, Mercia, I will get a divorce,\r\nand thou shalt fill the Empress\xe2\x80\x99 place. Aye, and fill it far away better\r\nthan she has ever done! I hate her\xe2\x80\x94curse her!\xe2\x80\x99 Then followed a grating\r\nnoise as if the Emperor were grinding his teeth in fury at the thought\r\nof his marriage fetters. A painful feeling spread itself through the\r\nCourt; the Empress became the cynosure of all eyes: her face turned\r\ndeathly white; a minute later she had fainted, and was carried away from\r\nthe scene that jealousy had prompted her to witness.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But I cannot rob another woman of her husband: I would not defraud the\r\nmeanest in thy realms, still less thine Empire\xe2\x80\x99s highest lady!\xe2\x80\x99 uttered\r\nthe machine in pure clear tones.\r\n\r\nA suppressed murmur of applause greeted this avowal, but the machine\r\nwent on heedless of interruption.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is not robbery, Mercia, she doth not own my heart, and never did! I\r\nwas cozened into the marriage by my cousin Osbert\xe2\x80\x94curse him, for a\r\nmeddling fool!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He did it, doubtless, for the best. The whole of thy Cabinet approved,\r\nso did the nation. It is a new thing for me to learn that our Emperor\r\nlives unhappily with his spouse\xe2\x80\x94I cannot understand it.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She\xe2\x80\x99s trying to reason him out of his folly,\xe2\x80\x99 remarked Louis, of\r\nFrance, \xe2\x80\x98good little girl!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I never felt the chains gall till now, Mercia,\xe2\x80\x99 the machine confessed\r\nwith relentless veracity. \xe2\x80\x98A quiet indifference kept me content until\r\nthy beauty set my heart a-beating with a new joy. I knew not love till\r\nmine eyes dwelt upon thy loveliness, and mine ears listened to the words\r\nthat flowed from thy lips like a sweet rippling fountain; whose waters\r\ngave forth a pure, clear, life-giving stream.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yes, I have drunk therein, and am filled with new emotions\xe2\x80\x94new joys\xe2\x80\x94new\r\nhopes\xe2\x80\x94new life!\xe2\x80\x99 The phonograph here made a pause, when it recommenced\r\nwith a sobbing sound.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Now is my beauty an evil thing, and a curse to me!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nvoice, in soft, pathetic sweetness. \xe2\x80\x98Would I had never been born, or\r\nthat Nature had shaped me uncomely, for then this misfortune could not\r\nhave overtaken me! Two men desire me, and I may not have either. I must\r\nlive in a world filled like a garden with flowers\xe2\x80\x94flowers and blossoms\r\nof love. Yet, I may not touch them; their fragrance is not for me; not\r\none may I wear on my breast!\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Yet, they nod and beckon me to pluck them. They offer me the incense of\r\ntheir being, and would fain spend their full fragrance upon me; for\r\ntheir desire is to nestle on my bosom, and give me the joy of their\r\nbeauty and love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAs the instrument gave utterance to this sweet rhapsody, delivered in a\r\nlow, clear, plaintive voice, that fell like music on the ear of the\r\nenraptured auditory, who listened breathlessly to every word that fell\r\nfrom her lips, as it were; for in imagination they saw her with bowed\r\nhead, and clasped hands breathing the poetry of that moment of divine\r\nexaltation.\r\n\r\nThe human desire for human love was finding expression: the longing of\r\nthe soul for companionship was shaping itself into language so intensely\r\nirresistible, that it went to every heart with the fleetness of the\r\nlightning\xe2\x80\x99s flash.\r\n\r\nOnly one feeling prevailed throughout that great assembly\xe2\x80\x94admiration for\r\nthe noble character of the beautiful woman sitting there before them,\r\nwhose flushed cheek and lowered eyelids evidenced the modesty of her\r\nwomanhood.\r\n\r\nAs soon as a pause was reached by the instrument, the enthusiasm of the\r\npeople could be restrained no longer. Men testified their approval in\r\ntrue English fashion by the heartiest round of applause as was never\r\nbefore heard in that soberly-conducted Justice Hall. When the excitement\r\nhad somewhat subsided, Mercia rose to her feet, and turning her gaze\r\nwith an air of modest dignity upon the people, she addressed them.\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Dear friends\xe2\x80\x94until this moment, I knew not I possessed so many\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAnother round of applause.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Dear friends,\xe2\x80\x99 she continued sweetly, \xe2\x80\x98accept my warmest thanks for\r\nyour generosity in believing in me while yet I remained unheard. My\r\nlords,\xe2\x80\x99 and she turned to the presiding Judges, \xe2\x80\x98it is true that this\r\ninstrument,\xe2\x80\x99 she pointed then to the phonograph\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98has been signally\r\ninstrumental in rendering undeniable testimony of the value of the\r\nevidence placed before you. Nevertheless, I knew not when I came hither\r\nthat I was to encounter my own words uttered without thought, or\r\npreparation, in a moment of excitement; for probably, had I been aware\r\nthat such was my friend, Mr. Sadbag\xe2\x80\x99s intention, my place at this\r\njustice bar would never have been filled.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Holding his Majesty\xe2\x80\x99s \xe2\x80\x9cpardon\xe2\x80\x9d as I do, I was under no necessity to\r\nappear before you, and plead the justice of my cause. Nevertheless, I do\r\nnot regret the exposure, for after all, it has given the opportunity, to\r\nyou, dear people, of showing the good feeling you entertain for me.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I felt in my heart when I elected to go forward with my defence that\r\nthe people of this great Empire would render me justice and see me\r\nsafely through this trying ordeal.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Good people,\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Mr. Sadbag, smiling good-humouredly, \xe2\x80\x98pray\r\ndon\xe2\x80\x99t applaud any more; I can\xe2\x80\x99t get along with my talking-machine; and\r\nuntil I finish the Court is unable to arrive at a decision. \xe2\x80\x99Tis a pity\r\nto hinder the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s pretty speeches, just listen to this, and see\r\nhow poetical he is: the tender passion makes even kings grow quite\r\ntragical.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Mercia, Mercia, give me thy love! Take me, my beloved, spurn me no\r\nlonger, for without thee I am as one dead. As a world without sun,\r\nwithout life, without warmth I shall go on my way darkened for ever.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Take me into the sunshine of thy love; give me new life, dearest;\r\nresuscitate and refresh me with the joy of thy beauty, and let us drink\r\nof the wine of Love\xe2\x80\x99s pleasures for ever.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Then shall we two learn how good it is to love; how sweet it is to be\r\ntogether! How delightful the blending of two souls made satisfied with\r\ntheir own companionship!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It is Geometrus who speaks,\xe2\x80\x99 came the soft dreamy tones of Mercia,\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus has opened his heart to me at last!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Geometrus!\xe2\x80\x99 shouted the machine in the angry tones of the Emperor, \xe2\x80\x98it\r\nis _not_ Geometrus; it is I\xe2\x80\x94Felicitas\xe2\x80\x94Felicitas thine Emperor, who\r\nabjectly offers thee his love; his crown, and sues thee, Mercia, his\r\nservant\xe2\x80\x94his astronomer.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nThen Mercia awakening, evidently, from her love-dream, and realising her\r\ntrue position exclaimed with great dignity, \xe2\x80\x98Felicitas, the Emperor,\r\nhath no crown to offer his subject, Mercia, for it sits already on the\r\nbrow of his Royal Spouse. Neither has he love to offer his astronomer,\r\nfor it is sworn to his Empress for ever. It is an insult to me, Mercia,\r\nthine offer of illicit love and I refuse to longer remain in thy\r\nservice.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That will do, Mr. Sadbag,\xe2\x80\x99 interrupted the senior Judge, \xe2\x80\x98we have heard\r\nquite sufficient to enable us to arrive at a decision. The prisoner\xe2\x80\x94I\r\nmean the accused, is found NOT GUILTY of the charge against her. The\r\nlady and her friends may now leave the Court without a stain on their\r\ncharacter. It is unnecessary to go into the charges brought against\r\nthese gentlemen, as the clearing of the principal defender establishes\r\nthe innocence of the whole three. This case ought never to have come\r\nbefore the Court at all.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Good!\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed Sadbag to his trusty phonograph, \xe2\x80\x98thy testimony is\r\nworth more than a score of witnesses, or a Court full of lawyers; thou\r\nhast served us well, little one; thanks to Edison, or whoever it was\r\ninvented thee!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Three cheers, three times over for Mercia, the Astronomer Royal!\xe2\x80\x99\r\nshouted a stentorian voice, and the tremendous volume of sound was\r\ncaught up by the thousands who were awaiting the verdict in the streets,\r\nand all the city shouted\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!\xe2\x80\x99 nine times in\r\nsuccession, and women wept for joy, and wreaths were showered upon her,\r\nand all the homage due to a great hero was rendered her, just as\r\nFelicitas had seen pictured in the psycho-development the day before.\r\n\r\nSwami had prepared the carriage and horses for her use, which now stood\r\nin readiness. But the climax of the ovation was reached when the people,\r\nnot knowing what to do to show her honour, removed the prancing steeds,\r\nwhich were startled by the clamour, and drew the chariot themselves.\r\n\r\nPublicly, in presence of the crowd, and of her intimate friends, Swami\r\nstepped up to the carriage, already piled with laurel wreaths intermixed\r\nwith flowers of rare beauty, and presented her with his wonderful crown\r\nof precious jewels. It represented a wreath of glittering blossoms\r\nintertwined with bay leaves; which sparkled with a thousand rays in the\r\nbright sunshine; placing this brilliant trophy of that day\xe2\x80\x99s triumph on\r\nher head he took his seat beside her.\r\n\r\nA deeper flush of pleasure came into Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s radiant face, for her\r\nhappiness was now complete in having him near.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Three cheers for Swami our great thought-reader and Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s friend!\xe2\x80\x99\r\ncried one of the crowd, who had seen Swami escort her into the Court,\r\nand thereby deduced that he was her most trusty friend.\r\n\r\nThe people willingly accorded him the acclamation, giving a share also\r\nto Geometrus, and the intrepid Sadbag.\r\n\r\nBut before all this took place, when she was about to leave the Court,\r\ncrowds of those present gathered round, and gave her their sincere\r\ncongratulations.\r\n\r\nAmong these were the Emperor Nicholas of Russia, and the newly-crowned\r\nEmperor of France, for that country having grown tired of a republic,\r\nimitated America in this respect.\r\n\r\nEven Prince Osbert, the cousin of Felicitas, offered Mercia his\r\ncongratulations; but not an atom of sympathy was expressed for the\r\nabsent Emperor, though many sincerely pitied his wife.\r\n\r\nThe Empress of Russia, not satisfied with mere hand-shaking, kissed\r\nMercia warmly, as she exclaimed\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Noble Mercia, then thou wouldst not\r\naccept the offer of Felicitas, and discrown my dear daughter\xe2\x80\x94thou\r\nwearest already the brightest crown, that of pure virtue. May God ever\r\nbless, and reward thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I\xe2\x80\x99ll make Felicitas pay for this!\xe2\x80\x99 muttered the Emperor Nicholas to\r\nhimself, \xe2\x80\x98his conduct both as an Emperor and husband is disgraceful.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98There is no occasion for thy Majesty to trouble further in the matter,\xe2\x80\x99\r\nobserved Swami, \xe2\x80\x98thy son-in-law hath received his lesson, and will\r\nprove, in time, a model husband. Parental responsibilities will make him\r\nthe most virtuous of monarchs living.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Then my daughter will have children?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired the Empress eagerly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Even so,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Swami, smiling, as he turned to lead Mercia away to\r\nher carriage.\r\n\r\nAll along the drive to Greenwich the people took up the glad shout of\r\ntriumph; but upon Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s arrival there, who was accompanied by Swami\r\nand Geometrus only, for Sadbag had been carried off by his own political\r\nand personal friends, she found that handsome triumphal arches had been\r\nerected to do her honour, in loyal anticipation of her victory.\r\n\r\nMercia\xe2\x80\x99s eyes filled at this warm tribute of the people\xe2\x80\x99s affection;\r\nwhile Swami pressed her hand and whispered that this was as nothing\r\ncompared with what awaited her in the very near future. Geometrus, in\r\nthe meantime, overhearing what was said, looked perfectly petrified with\r\nastonishment, as each feature of the situation was developed.\r\n\r\nAs the events of the day unfolded themselves his mind became almost a\r\nwhirligig of wonder and excitement. He could not understand the presence\r\nof Swami at all, at the trial; for he knew that up to then Mercia was\r\nentirely unacquainted with him. But what appeared to him as misplaced as\r\nit was unwelcome, was the part Swami was taking in the ovation, by whose\r\npersonality he felt himself completely overshadowed.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Who is this Anglo-Indian that I should have to play second fiddle to\r\nhim?\xe2\x80\x99 thought Geometrus to himself, \xe2\x80\x98why does Mercia occupy herself with\r\n_him_?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nFrom the talking-machine he had learnt to his infinite joy, of Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nlove for him; it was the first intimation he had received of her\r\naffection, but before he could drink in the delight of his unexpected\r\nbliss, it was melting away like a dream.\r\n\r\nAll her attention was engrossed by this Swami. When she was not engaged\r\ngiving her graceful acknowledgments to the enthusiastic crowd, her eyes\r\nwere looking into his with that soul-worship, which women accord, when\r\nthey have met their ideal.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98She never gazed into my face with that fervour,\xe2\x80\x99 he thought, \xe2\x80\x98she loves\r\nhim, else how could she be so devoted? I have loved her for years, and\r\nthis is the reward of my constancy; in one day a stranger has ousted me.\r\nThis comes of over-cautiousness; had I been reckless of consequences,\r\nMercia would have been mine by this time, made safe by bonds of wedlock.\r\nBut I hesitated, believing her position had greater charms for her than\r\nmatrimony. And now\xe2\x80\x94well, no one can bottom a woman\xe2\x80\x99s heart, or gather\r\nits meaning. I imagined I was consulting her best interests when I\r\nrefrained from declaring my love, leaving over the matter for time to\r\nput things right. And this is the result; a stranger has accomplished\r\nmore in one day than I with all my years of opportunity. It is\r\ninexplicable.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98However, I\xe2\x80\x99ll wait no longer, this night shall conclude the matter. Ere\r\nanother day elapses I will have asked her to share my poor fortunes;\r\nsurely we two can meet with appointments as teachers of astronomy and\r\nmake a respectable livelihood between us. It isn\xe2\x80\x99t a very brilliant\r\nposition to offer, but she will then be mine legally, and no man can\r\ntake her from me. My prudence has made me play the fool, so far, but\r\nthis night shall I learn my fate. I will delay no longer. Mercia has\r\ntold the whole world of her preference for me, how then can she have the\r\nface to refuse me?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAs these thoughts passed through Geometrus\xe2\x80\x99 mind whilst seated near\r\nSwami, the latter looked into his face and remarked impressively\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The chances and changes of this mortal life are never ending. They\r\nbring sorrow to one, and joy to another. Strange arrangement this of\r\nFortune; one moment bestowing good, the next evil. If thou shouldst\r\nregard thyself ill used to-day, learn that a morrow will come when thou\r\nshalt be made content; but not in the manner that is in thine heart at\r\nthis moment.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98There is _nothing_ that can bring me content, Swami,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Geometrus\r\nbitterly, \xe2\x80\x98but that which thou seekest to deprive me of.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nMercia at this moment was oblivious of the nature of their conversation,\r\nher attention having been engaged by the arrival of friends to\r\ncongratulate her.\r\n\r\nWhen the party reached the Observatory Swami expressed his intention of\r\nreturning; and as soon as he had assisted Mercia to alight, he conducted\r\nher to her sitting-room.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Take a rest, my beloved,\xe2\x80\x99 he whispered softly, \xe2\x80\x98it will refresh thee;\r\nto-morrow I will come and stay awhile beside thee; when I trust thy\r\nfriend Geometrus will not favour us with his presence. Evidently, by his\r\ndark looks he would fain annihilate me, if that were possible.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Ah, yes,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Mercia, with a sigh and a smile intermixed; \xe2\x80\x98we two\r\nmust have explanations. That talking-machine has made things awkward for\r\nme. But for that tell-tale instrument I owed him no apologies, seeing\r\nthat the nature of our friendship had never been discussed between us.\r\nSince then I have learnt that which the concentrated wisdom of all the\r\nschools could not impart by theory; for it is the realisation and\r\nknowledge of what the poets of all ages have made their universal theme;\r\nbut experience only can reveal the reality.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And it is as fresh to us as if utterly unknown hitherto! It is our new\r\ndiscovery!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Swami in a rapture as he caught her in his arms.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98But we can\xe2\x80\x99t take out a patent for it!\xe2\x80\x99 Mercia was in the act of\r\nreplying, when her words were smothered by the warm kisses pressed upon\r\nher lips.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And must we really part?\xe2\x80\x99 exclaimed she, while playfully holding his\r\nhands prisoners.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98It will seem an eternity till the morrow,\xe2\x80\x99 he murmured, making no\r\neffort to escape.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98When I sleep I shall dream of thee, Swami,\xe2\x80\x99 and her liquid eyes looked\r\nsoftly into his.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98My day dream shuts out the visions of the night; for my happiness is\r\ntoo great for the waters of Lethe to cover. With thee to concentre my\r\nthought upon, I ask no other refreshment,\xe2\x80\x99 uttered Swami softly.\r\n\r\nWhen fame is won, leisure is lost, Mercia quickly discovered; for no\r\nsooner had Swami left than she found herself surrounded by crowds of\r\npersons who had come to offer their congratulations. Of course the\r\nsincerity of those demonstrative ones was not to be doubted,\r\nnevertheless the visits of a goodly percentage were prompted more by\r\ncuriosity to see the woman who might have displaced their Empress, had\r\nshe been so minded, and the Divorce Courts sufficiently obliging, than\r\nanything else. Consequently, Mercia had a livelier time of it for\r\nseveral hours than she was prepared for. People to whom she was a\r\nperfect stranger poured in upon her, until at length fairly wearied out\r\nwith the strain she gave orders to admit no more.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the apartments were fairly cleared of their visitors she sank\r\ndown on a sofa exhausted; and was in the act of uttering an exclamation\r\nof thankfulness when Geometrus put in an appearance.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98May I have a word with thee?\xe2\x80\x99 he asked hesitatingly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98To-morrow, Geometrus, won\xe2\x80\x99t it keep till then?\xe2\x80\x99 she said sweetly.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98No, Mercia, I must know my fate to-night, I cannot wait another day. My\r\nmind is in such a state of perplexity, that to dream of getting sleep is\r\na folly: I come therefore to sue thee for a good night\xe2\x80\x99s rest, and to be\r\nmade happy for all time;\xe2\x80\x99 saying which he took a seat in front of her.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And how can I make thee comfortable, Geometrus?\xe2\x80\x99 laughed Mercia gaily.\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Better take a nerve-soothing tabloid instead of supper, I\xe2\x80\x99ll warrant\r\nthat will give thy mind more rest than anything that I can tell thee.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Perhaps it might,\xe2\x80\x99 answered he gloomily.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All the same, I would prefer a hearing if thou wilt grant the favour.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Certainly,\xe2\x80\x99 she answered with an assumed airiness of manner, for she\r\nguessed she was about to go through a bad quarter of an hour, \xe2\x80\x98now be\r\nreasonable, and I will give this matter my best attention,\xe2\x80\x99 she added.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I know I am trespassing upon thy time at an awkward moment,\xe2\x80\x99 he went on\r\nto say with a certain bitterness in his voice, \xe2\x80\x98but for all that we will\r\nhave it out now. What is the meaning of this fortune-telling fellow\r\nhanging round thee? What does he want dangling after thee?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That is my business,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Mercia, suddenly freezing in her manner\r\nand turning quite haughty, \xe2\x80\x98I was not aware that I was answerable to\r\nthee in the choice of my friends.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAt this reproof he reddened, and stammered out\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I did not mean to put it that way,\xe2\x80\x94but I want to know what is this\r\nSwami to thee that he should interest himself so greatly in thy\r\naffairs?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He is my intended husband, Geometrus,\xe2\x80\x99 replied Mercia in a low but firm\r\nvoice. \xe2\x80\x98I mean to give up my post and marry. He is the only man for whom\r\nI could make this sacrifice, as I love my profession greatly. But I love\r\nSwami better, and intend to share my fortunes with him whatever they\r\nbe.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And what is to become of me?\xe2\x80\x99 inquired Geometrus while his face turned\r\ndeathly white; \xe2\x80\x98I thought the phonograph said thou didst love me. What\r\nam I to think? Was it Swami that filled thy thought when Felicitas asked\r\nthe same question?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Of course not,\xe2\x80\x99 rejoined Mercia candidly, \xe2\x80\x98I was unacquainted with him\r\nwhen the Emperor sought me. But I will endeavour to explain it;\r\notherwise thou mightest arrive at false conclusions.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I formed a sincere regard for thee, Geometrus, in the course of these\r\nfive years that we have worked together; and this regard, owing partly\r\nto thy devotion to me, and partly from a sense of loneliness, the result\r\nof my necessarily solitary mode of life, grew into such a tender\r\naffection that I imagined it was what people call love. Consequently,\r\nthe notion came into my head that at some time or other\xe2\x80\x94some day in the\r\ndistant future, I would marry thee if such continued to be thy desire.\r\nBut now all those ideas have been dissipated; my heart has gone through\r\na complete revolution, for I have met with the man for whom I would\r\nwillingly give up everything.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98I love him better than all the stars in the wide universe! Much as I\r\ndelighted to gaze into the Heavens and study with intense interest the\r\nwonders of the Celestial depths, yet he is above them all! He is more to\r\nme than thousands of worlds! He is nearer and dearer than millions of\r\nsuns!\xe2\x80\x99 cried Mercia with clasped hands, and eyes alight with warm\r\nenthusiasm.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98He is certainly _nearer_ if propinquity counts for anything;\xe2\x80\x99 rejoined\r\nGeometrus dryly; \xe2\x80\x98of course, then, I am to understand that the man who\r\nhas bowled out the whole Universe, has played it low on me: in other\r\nwords, I am nowhere _now_?\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98That is so,\xe2\x80\x99 said Mercia, \xe2\x80\x98I now know what love is, for he has taught\r\nme, where thou didst fail. Thou hadst no power to impart this knowledge\r\nto my understanding. When I look back, I see that Friendship only\r\ninspired my thought for thee. I should have continued all my life\r\nsearching the Heavens, and worrying out the secrets of Nature had I not\r\nmet my Marrow, my Ideal, my Fate!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98All three represented in the person of Swami?\xe2\x80\x99 added Geometrus\r\ncynically.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Even so,\xe2\x80\x99 answered Mercia, taking no notice of his derisive tone. \xe2\x80\x98In a\r\nfew days I leave this place, and thou Geometrus canst worthily fill it,\r\nand make thy name illustrious for ever.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And this is to be the end of my dream!\xe2\x80\x99 he burst out in a voice choking\r\nwith feeling.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The end of one, and the beginning of another,\xe2\x80\x99 returned Mercia, \xe2\x80\x98thou\r\nwilt yet be a great man, whom all men will honour. I leave thee a fair\r\nfield and a free hand to accomplish this noble ambition.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98The providence that\xe2\x80\x99s in a watchful state\r\n Knows almost every grain of Pluto\xe2\x80\x99s gold;\r\n Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps;\r\n Keeps pace with thought, and almost like the Gods,\r\n Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n _Troilus and Cressida._\r\n\r\n\r\nAs soon as the trial was concluded,\xe2\x80\x94if the series of extraordinary\r\nscenes that took place in the court, could be so designated\xe2\x80\x94the\r\nreporters rushed out _en masse_ to send their respective phonographs to\r\nthe editors of the various journals they represented.\r\n\r\nNever before had they such a titbit to offer their employers as was now\r\ntheir good luck to possess. A love scene between their Emperor and his\r\nastronomer, delivered in a dialogue wherein the actual voices were\r\nreproduced was a treat not to be met with every day.\r\n\r\nAt least a hundred delicate voice-recorders had caught the sound-waves\r\nfrom Sadbag\xe2\x80\x99s phonograph, and borrowing the tones of Felicitas and\r\nMercia in their never-to-be-forgotten colloquy, gave them a value\r\nunprecedented in all time. As soon as it got abroad that their\r\nproprietors were in possession of these treasures, hundreds of\r\nspeculators offered enormous prices for their purchase, with a view of\r\nreeling out their contents to admiring and appreciative audiences\r\nthroughout the globe.\r\n\r\nThese offers proved, indeed, too tempting to be resisted, so that in the\r\ncourse of a week or two, India, together with many distant parts, was in\r\nthe enjoyment of the actual love scene that took place at Greenwich\r\nObservatory, the most unlikely of all places for such an incident to\r\nhappen in.\r\n\r\nThe Great Test Tournament had been fought and won by the Easterners.\r\nTheir freedom now achieved, there remained only the nomination and\r\ncoronation of a Supreme Ruler to go through, the responsibility of which\r\nweighed heavily upon the mind of the Indian Parliamentarians.\r\n\r\nIt was ultimately decided however, that their first Monarch should be\r\nelected by the vote of the whole nation, independently of all claims of\r\nroyal descent made by members of the native aristocracy.\r\n\r\nThe interesting news of Felicitas\xe2\x80\x99 unsuccessful love suit having been\r\nbrought to the ears of the people so graphically through the medium of\r\nthe voice-recorders, created an intense excitement in their mind, at all\r\ntimes so sensitive to every emotion.\r\n\r\nIt brought out Mercia\xe2\x80\x99s character in such vivid colours that she\r\nappeared to them mentally projected on a living reflector. In their\r\nintense imagination, they saw her before them uttering in her melodious\r\ndream-like voice her now famous rhapsody; the tenderness of which\r\nappealing to their hearts, stirred up their deepest emotions.\r\n\r\nBut when they arrived at her indignant refusal of the Emperor\xe2\x80\x99s offer to\r\nput away his wife, and give her the crown of his Consort, the climax was\r\nreached, and the enthusiasm of the people found vent in loud cries\r\nof\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98MERCIA FOR EVER! LONG LIVE MERCIA, OUR EMPRESS!\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nAnd so the cry spreading itself through every quarter of that vast\r\nEmpire was caught up in wild delight\xe2\x80\x94LONG LIVE MERCIA, OUR EMPRESS,\r\nbeing echoed from every part, by people of every caste and every creed.\r\nBut when the intelligence reached this impressionable people that\r\nMercia, the greatest Astronomer, and noblest woman the world had ever\r\nseen, was about to enter into a matrimonial alliance with Dayanand\r\nSwami, the actual lineal descendant of The Great Mogul Dynasty, which\r\ngoverned India from the early centuries downwards, that settled the\r\nquestion.\r\n\r\nIn the course of the discussion upon the subject, which took place in\r\nthe House of Parliament at Calcutta, Sir John Punjaub their well-beloved\r\nminister said\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Now is this matter settled to our utmost satisfaction and\r\ncontent. In Dayanand Swami we have the direct descendant of India\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ngreatest, wisest, and most beneficent Ruler, the renowned Abkar, who was\r\nthe son of Humayun, who was the son of Baber, the founder of the Great\r\nRoyal Dynasty in the fifteenth century.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98In Dayanand we shall have a second Abkar, for the mantle of his great\r\nAncestor hath fallen on him. In him the people of this great Empire will\r\nhave a kind Father, a wise Teacher, a just Ruler, and a lover and\r\npromoter of learning.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98By the union of Mercia and Dayanand we shall have restored to us the\r\nlost Royal Line: in beauteous Mercia, perfect in face, and form, in soul\r\nand mind, we have found the true representative of what a monarch ought\r\nto be.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Herein is crystallised the talent, wisdom, and virtue of all\r\ngenerations. In her person we shall have the embodiment of our country\xe2\x80\x99s\r\ndignity and honour. She shall become the Great Mother of India. The\r\nFounder of our Royal Line, and her name shall shine as the stars for\r\never and ever.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nIn the presence of the greatest and most brilliant assemblage India had\r\never seen since the days of her ancient splendour; consisting of Princes\r\nand Potentates richly attired in court dress and coronet, representative\r\nof their respective positions of Peishwar, Raja and Maharajah the\r\ncoronation took place a month later.\r\n\r\nBy dint of working day and night the preparations for the grand Imperial\r\nProcession to be followed by the Crowning Function, were completed in\r\nthat period.\r\n\r\nOne thousand elephants, richly caparisoned in cloth of gold and various\r\nembroideries; their heads ornamented with fine filagree work in gold or\r\nsilver, interspersed with gems, according to the wealth of their\r\nrespective owners, carried the howdahs containing the wives and\r\ndaughters of the dignitaries of the Realm. For Mercia had issued a\r\nmandate beforehand that the ladies of the Chiefs of the Empire would be\r\nexpected to take part in the Function, veiled, or unveiled, according to\r\ntheir respective ideas of propriety. In obedience to which every Ameer,\r\nMaharajah, Rajah, Nawab, Sirdar, Dewan, and Nazim had the ladies of his\r\nfamily carried in howdahs, where they enjoyed a splendid view of the\r\nsituation, owing to their elevated position, and at the same time added\r\nan Eastern air of gorgeousness to the procession, most impressive to the\r\neye of the beholder.\r\n\r\nThe Princes, and native dignitaries themselves followed in carriages\r\ndrawn by horses, in the order of their rank the splendidly-appointed\r\nImperial Chariot, containing \xe2\x80\x98Mercia, The Peerless,\xe2\x80\x99 as she was now\r\nnamed, and by her side was seated her Imperial Consort, \xe2\x80\x98Dayanand, The\r\nWise.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\nLong lines of body-guards composed of the finest physiqued men in the\r\nrealms, attired in a rich uniform of pale blue and gold bearing silver\r\nlances, and mounted on high-mettled steeds, preceded and followed the\r\nroyal chariot, the sight of which drew forth the wildest acclamations of\r\njoy from the people.\r\n\r\nThe ceremony took place neither in Christian nor Hindu temple, but in\r\nthe great hall of their Parliament House, the most stately building in\r\nCalcutta.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the Coronation Oath was taken by Mercia, in accordance with\r\nthe custom of their most remote ancestry, she was sprinkled with water\r\nfrom the Ganges, which was contained in a golden bowl glittering with\r\nprecious jewels. After which, the grand Imperial Crown was placed upon\r\nher head by the venerable Prime Minister, who officiated as high priest\r\nof the ceremony.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Now,\xe2\x80\x99 said the old man, \xe2\x80\x98I will finish by quoting a counsel from a part\r\nof the most ancient of India\xe2\x80\x99s literature,\xe2\x80\x94the Dasakumaracharita, or\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Stories of Ten Princes.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98Government is an arduous matter; it has three principles; Council,\r\nAuthority, and Activity. These mutually assisting each other dispatch\r\nall affairs. Council determines objects, Authority commences, and\r\nActivity effects their attainment. Policy is a tree of which Council is\r\nthe root, Authority the stem, and Activity the main branch. The\r\nseventy-two Prakritis are the leaves; the six qualities of Royalty the\r\nblossoms; power and success the flowers and the fruit. Let this shade\r\nprotect our Gracious Empress for ever.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98And as at the birth of the Great Abkar, which happened at a time when\r\nhis father\xe2\x80\x99s fortunes were fallen so low that he possessed neither\r\ncrown, nor kingdom, nor even the wherewithal to make the necessary gifts\r\nto his friends and followers when a son was born unto him, he took a\r\nmusk-pod, and breaking it divided it amongst them, uttering the wish\r\nthat proved a prophecy; so may thy name, most noble Mercia, and thy\r\nvirtues spread in waves of perfume throughout thy wide domains, making\r\nglad the hearts of thy faithful subjects, and filling them with joy, and\r\npeace and love.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98May the blessing of the Eternal Father rest upon thee and thine for\r\never and for ever.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n THE END\r\n\r\n\r\n PRINTED BY\r\n SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE\r\n LONDON\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS.\r\n\r\n By A. GARLAND MEARS.\r\n\r\n Portrait. Superfine paper. Cloth, gold lettered. Price 6_s._\r\n\r\n\r\n_NEWCASTLE CHRONICLE._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98As an Alpine traveller might pluck the\r\neidelweiss in some unexpected cranny, so we open the pages of a volume\r\nof IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS. It is the work of a poet of Nature....\r\nMrs. Mears strikes her harp with power and grace, and breathes life and\r\npoetry into the dry bones of history. Interest will be aroused in them,\r\nnot only by their poetic treatment, but also by the erudition displayed\r\nby the author.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x98The legends of her volume are enhanced by notes betraying considerable\r\nresearch.... Mrs. Mears may be indeed described as the poet of love....\r\nShe is a close observer of human passion. Never before have we seen such\r\na complete analysis of the tender passion as that given in the series of\r\neighteen sonnets under the title of HONORIA\xe2\x80\x99S LOVE.... IDYLLS, LEGENDS,\r\nAND LYRICS go into the world with the stamp of approval, and, in winning\r\ncredit for their author, they reflect honour upon the town that saw\r\ntheir birth.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n_MANCHESTER COURIER._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Considerable variety of style and sentiment are\r\nillustrated in these interesting verses. The dramatic Idyll ILAMEA;\r\nHONORIA\xe2\x80\x99S LOVE, and other Sonnets; EDAIN, AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF IRELAND;\r\nPOEMS IN BLANK VERSE; C\xc3\x86DMON, AN EARLY ENGLISH IDYLL, together with\r\nSONGS and LYRICAL POEMS, are all samples of composition which indicate\r\nthat the author is no novice in such work. In HONORIA\xe2\x80\x99S LOVE are\r\ndepicted the several emotions of the mind when under the influence of\r\nlove, each sonnet expressing a separate phase of that passion which is\r\nadmitted to be the strongest of all human passions. Owing to the form of\r\nthe verse these eighteen sonnets are less a love story, perhaps, than an\r\nexposition of the emotions. The following is a specimen of them.... With\r\none other quotation we will close this admirable book.\r\n\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98LOVE, THE UNIVERSAL LAW.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98As atom unto atom firmly lies\r\n Obeying blindly that great law which makes\r\n Subservient even lifeless matter; wakes\r\n An energy, a force whose hidden ties\r\n Bind animate, or inanimate in wise\r\n True order. See, the silver cloudlet breaks,\r\n With others interweaves; thus changed forsakes\r\n An individual existence, dies.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Wave follows wave in rhythmic lines, and one\r\n By one they lose themselves in close embrace;\r\n Thus are we twain commingled: our lives run\r\n In closest sympathy; we interlace\r\n Our mind\xe2\x80\x99s emotions: now, there hath begun\r\n Creation new, to which past life gives place.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n_OXFORD CHRONICLE._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98This is an 8vo. volume, printed in clear type, on\r\nthick paper; cloth, gilt lettered. Its pages are laden with the music of\r\nthe love song and old-time love story. The aim of the author, not only\r\nto reach the reasoning faculties, but to appeal to the imagination and\r\nemotions; and to yield that pleasure to the mind which is the design of\r\npoetry as of music, has been gained. True poetry, it has been said,\r\nportrays, with terrible energy, the excesses of the passions; but they\r\nare passions which show a mighty nature; which are full of power; which\r\ncommand awe, and excite a deep though shuddering sympathy. Its great\r\ntendency and power is to carry the mind above and beyond the beaten,\r\ndusty, and weary walks of ordinary life: to lift it into a purer\r\nelement, and to breathe into it a more profound and generous emotion.\r\nThis consummation has been obtained by the dramatic Idyll ILAMEA, with\r\nwhich Part I. opens. Its sublimity and elegance of style entitle it to\r\nrank as one of the finest classics ever written on love.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n_NORTHERN ECHO._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS bespeak the true poetic\r\nvein; the light phantasy of romantic thought; and the faculty of\r\nexpressing all in rhythmic verse. A Dramatic Idyll, ILAMEA, is, perhaps,\r\nthe happiest in the volume. It dwells, as really does the whole book, on\r\nthe immortal theme of love; and an argumentative colloquy between two\r\npersons, the Count and Ilamea, reveals a flow of language and\r\nbeautifully balanced metre that make it a pleasure to read or recite.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n_DAILY TELEGRAPH._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98This work is principally composed of old-time love\r\nstories in verse, which the author claims have never before formed\r\nsubject of treatment by the poet. They present a picture, though only a\r\nlegendary one, of the days of our ancestors, and are interesting on that\r\naccount. A bouquet of love sonnets are treated with no little skill and\r\noriginality. An ancient legend of Ireland is very cleverly and\r\nsympathetically rendered in EDAIN; C\xc3\x86DMON, an Early English Idyll, is\r\nalso noteworthy. It is something to be reminded of the \xe2\x80\x9cpeasant poet\r\nwho, a thousand years before Milton, sang the epic of the Creation;\r\nvividly depicting the War in Heaven, the Fall of Satan, and his\r\nCounsellings in Hell.\xe2\x80\x9d The author has produced a collection of poems\r\nwhich exhibit true poetic instinct; and the work makes a goodly and\r\nacceptable volume.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n_THE GRAPHIC._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98The love song and love story form the staple of Mrs.\r\nGarland Mears\xe2\x80\x99 IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS. She possesses much fluency\r\nof expression, and is not troubled in her theme by any melancholy\r\ntranscendentalism. In her view the object of poetry is to yield pleasure\r\nto the mind, and it should appeal either to the imagination or to the\r\nemotions. \xe2\x80\x9cIts true object,\xe2\x80\x9d she observes, \xe2\x80\x9cis not obtained when it\r\nbecomes chiefly the vehicle for philosophical or metaphysical\r\ninstruction reaching only the reasoning faculties.\xe2\x80\x9d Some of the poems\r\nhave a simple love tale for their basis, as in ILAMEA, C\xc3\x86DMON, and THE\r\nLOVE OF UTHER, the British King, for Igerna, with the resultant birth of\r\nArthur. In HONORIA\xe2\x80\x99S LOVE we have a series of eighteen sonnets; from the\r\nfirst of these we quote the eight opening lines dealing with \xe2\x80\x9cLove\xe2\x80\x99s\r\nEntrance.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98\xe2\x80\x9cOh, kingly Love, when first thou didst enthral\r\n My soul in thy sweet bonds I hardly knew\r\n Thy presence: filled with joy, what could I do\r\n But gaze upon thy face, and at thy call\r\n Give willing ear? Then straight before thee fall,\r\n In meekness yielding loving homage, true.\r\n What sum of bliss wrapped up in moments few;\r\n Life\xe2\x80\x99s sweetest mystery is made my all!\xe2\x80\x9d\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n _Extracts from Letters containing Criticisms by the Chairmen and\r\n Secretaries of Public Libraries_:\xe2\x80\x94\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98The librarian has handed to me the volume of IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND\r\n LYRICS. I have had time to read the dramatic Idyll ILAMEA, and am\r\n greatly pleased with its sweetness and high-souled tone.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98It makes one feel better and stronger for its impressive lesson, so\r\n vividly, and pathetically, and sympathetically told. ILAMEA is worth\r\n the price of the whole volume.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98I will devote the earliest opportunity to go through its pages,\r\n feeling sure that they will add much pleasure to my life, as well as\r\n intensify my attachment to poetry. The work is placed in the library\r\n of this borough.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98B. P. WRIGHT, J.P.,\r\n _Chairman of Committee, Free Public\r\n Library, Stafford_.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98The MAYOR OF SLIGO has requested that a second copy of IDYLLS,\r\n LEGENDS, AND LYRICS be purchased. The verses are very sweet. They do\r\n not stir the spirit like the strong lines of Byron: but they come over\r\n us with a bewitching softness that in certain moods is still more\r\n delightful, and soothe the troubled spirits with a refreshing sense of\r\n truth, purity, and elegance.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98They are pensive rather than passionate, and more full of wisdom and\r\n tenderness than flights of fancy, or overwhelming bursts of emotion;\r\n while they are moulded into grace, at least as much by the effect of\r\n the moral beauties they disclose as by the taste and judgment with\r\n which they are constructed.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98DAVID SAULTRY,\r\n _Chief Librarian, Free Public Library,\r\n Sligo, Ireland_.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98I have read the first poem, ILAMEA, in this interesting volume of\r\n verse, and can bear my testimony as to its beauty of conception and\r\n true poetic merit. I like the poetry exceedingly, and feel quite\r\n confident that the work only requires to be better known to secure it\r\n a very wide circulation.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98ALFRED LANCASTER,\r\n _Chief Librarian, Free Public Library,\r\n St. Helens_.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98I am very glad to see in IDYLLS, LEGENDS, AND LYRICS a poem on\r\n C\xc3\xa6dmon. I am particularly interested in old-time literature myself,\r\n and am giving special attention to such subjects as \xe2\x80\x9cC\xc3\xa6dmon\xe2\x80\x9d and\r\n \xe2\x80\x9cBeowulf.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98I shall be very glad to have another copy, as it is the first work I\r\n have seen for a long time which is so exactly suited to my taste.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98FRED TURNER,\r\n _Free Public Library, Brentford_.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98This work is an exceptionally good one, and I thank you for calling\r\n my attention to a volume of poems of such merit as these possess.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98I have told my committee that, as far as I am a judge of poetry, I\r\n considered that this work was entitled to a place on our shelves.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98Our public here are quick to form fairly accurate opinions as to the\r\n value of works of this class. I shall be only too glad to find my own\r\n judgment endorsed by that large body I have the pleasure to serve.\r\n\r\n \xe2\x80\x98WILLIAM MAY,\r\n _Chief Librarian, Free Public Library,\r\n Birkenhead_.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE STORY OF A TRUST.\r\n\r\n By the same Author.\r\n\r\n PORTRAIT AND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.\r\n\r\n Crown 8vo. 300 pp. cloth, gilt lettered, price 2_s._ 6_d._\r\n\r\n\r\n_OXFORD CHRONICLE._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98The authoress has been designated \xe2\x80\x9cthe Poet of\r\nLove, and Nature,\xe2\x80\x9d one who deserves the thanks of every student of early\r\nEnglish literature for reviving one\xe2\x80\x99s interest in old-time literature.\r\nHer claim to the eulogy is fully justified ... this latest production of\r\nher pen is thoroughly realistic, and contains word-pictures graphically\r\ndescriptive of English country life.... Margaret is a gem, a perfect\r\ntype of womanhood, calling forth love and admiration. The chapter\r\ncontaining the tragedy is ably written, and will commend itself to the\r\napproval of lovers of the dramatic; while the chapter on \xe2\x80\x9cSorrow\xe2\x80\x9d\r\nappeals powerfully to the emotions.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_NEWCASTLE CHRONICLE._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Deserves a hearty welcome at the hands of the\r\ngeneral public, and especially of North-country people.... Mrs. Garland\r\nMears\xe2\x80\x99 style is fluent and forcible; she avoids all prevalent errors of\r\nlatter-day writers, and depending entirely on her own thoughts, which\r\nshe expresses in good English.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_SHEFFIELD DAILY TELEGRAPH._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98The tale is most interesting and\r\ngraphically written.... Mrs. Garland Mears has creditably added both in\r\nprose and poetry to the literature of the period.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_BRADFORD MERCURY._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98The narrative is vividly told, and is interspersed\r\nwith many historical references to Bradford. Mrs. Mears is a charming\r\nwriter, and all her tales are graphically written.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_BRADFORD OBSERVER._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98Considerable dramatic interest in the stories, and\r\ntheir relation to the West Riding of Yorkshire, will give them special\r\ninterest in this neighbourhood.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_MANCHESTER EXAMINER._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98The book is interesting throughout. The\r\nhistorical chapters dealing with York City and Hartlepool are\r\nadmirable.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n_YORKSHIRE POST._\xe2\x80\x94\xe2\x80\x98The tone of the book is always admirable.\xe2\x80\x99\r\n\r\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n TRANSCRIBER\xe2\x80\x99S NOTES\r\n\r\n\r\n 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in\r\n spelling.\r\n 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.\r\n 3. 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'The First Men in the Moon'

'Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)'

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'Five Weeks in a Balloon'

'Verne, Jules'

b'The Project Gutenberg EBook of Five Weeks in a Balloon, by Jules Verne\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. 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'Possessed'

'Moffett, Cleveland'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Possessed\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Possessed\r\n\r\nAuthor: Cleveland Moffett\r\n\r\nRelease date: July 26, 2007 [eBook #22152]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Marcia Brooks, Suzanne Shell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POSSESSED ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Marcia Brooks, Suzanne Shell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPOSSESSED\r\n\r\nby\r\n\r\nCLEVELAND MOFFETT\r\n\r\n_Author of "Through the Wall", etc._\r\n\r\nNEW YORK\r\n\r\nTHE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY\r\n\r\n1920\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCopyright 1920 by\r\n\r\nTHE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY\r\n\r\n_All Rights Reserved_\r\n\r\nPrinted in U. S. A.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nDEDICATION\r\n\r\nWhatever the defects or limitations of this story, I can assure my\r\nreaders that it is largely based on truth. Many of the incidents,\r\nincluding the dual personality phenomena, were suggested by actual\r\nhappenings known to me. The doctor who accomplishes cures by occult\r\nmethods is a friend of mine, who lives and practises in New York City.\r\nSeraphine, the medium, is also a real person. The episode that is\r\nexplained by waves of terror passing from one apartment to another and\r\nseparately affecting three unsuspecting persons is not imaginary, but\r\ndrawn from an almost identical happening that I, myself, witnessed in\r\nParis, France. And the truth about women that I have tried to tell has\r\nbeen largely obtained from women themselves, women in various walks of\r\nlife, who have been kind enough to give me most of the opinions and\r\nexperiences that are contained in Penelope\'s diary. To them I now\r\ngratefully dedicate this book.\r\n\r\nC. M.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONTENTS\r\n\r\n PAGE\r\n\r\nPROLOGUE 1\r\n\r\nCHAPTER\r\n\r\n I. VOICES 6\r\n\r\n II. WHAT PENELOPE COULD NOT TELL THE DOCTOR 18\r\n\r\n III. A BOWL OF GOLD FISH 42\r\n\r\n IV. FIVE PURPLE MARKS 46\r\n\r\n V. WHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT THE STUDIO 53\r\n\r\n VI. EARTH-BOUND 62\r\n\r\n VII. JEWELS 70\r\n\r\n VIII. WHITE SHAPES 80\r\n\r\n IX. THE CONFESSIONAL CLUB 90\r\n\r\n X. FAUVETTE 103\r\n\r\n XI. THE EVIL SPIRIT 111\r\n\r\n XII. X K C 115\r\n\r\n XIII. TERROR 128\r\n\r\n XIV. POSSESSED 142\r\n\r\n XV. DR. LEROY 149\r\n\r\n XVI. IRRESPONSIBLE HANDS 161\r\n\r\n XVII. THE HOUR OF THE DREAM 169\r\n\r\nXVIII. PLAYING WITH FIRE 179\r\n\r\n XIX. PRIDE 192\r\n\r\n XX. THE MIRACLE 199\r\n\r\n XXI. THE TRUTH ABOUT WOMEN THAT NOBODY TELLS 210\r\n\r\n EPILOGUE 252\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n "_Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues\r\n of life._"\r\n\r\n PROVERBS, _Chapter IV, Verse 23_.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPOSSESSED\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n(_June, 1914_)\r\n\r\nSCARLET LIGHTS\r\n\r\n\r\nThis story presents the fulfillment of an extraordinary prophecy made\r\none night, suddenly and dramatically, at a gathering of New Yorkers,\r\nbrought together for hilarious purposes, including a little supper, in\r\nthe Washington Square apartment of Bobby Vallis--her full name was\r\nRoberta. There were soft lights and low divans and the strumming of a\r\npainted ukulele that sang its little twisted soul out under the caress\r\nof Penelope\'s white fingers. I can still see the big black opal in its\r\nquaint setting that had replaced her wedding ring and the yellow serpent\r\nof pliant gold coiled on her thumb with two bright rubies for its eyes.\r\nPenelope Wells! How little we realized what sinister forces were playing\r\nabout her that pleasant evening as we smoked and jested and sipped our\r\nglasses, gazing from time to time up the broad vista of Fifth Avenue\r\nwith its lines of receding lights.\r\n\r\nThere had been an impromptu session of the Confessional Club during\r\nwhich several men, notably a poet in velveteen jacket, had vouchsafed\r\nsentimental or matrimonial revelations in the most approved Greenwich\r\nVillage style. And the ladies, unabashed, had discussed these things.\r\n\r\nBut not a word did Penelope Wells speak of her own matrimonial troubles,\r\nwhich were known vaguely to most of us, although we had never met the\r\ndrunken brute of a husband who had made her life a torment. I can see\r\nher now in profile against the open window, her eyes dark with their\r\nslumberous fires. I remember the green earrings she wore that night, and\r\nhow they reached down under her heavy black braids--reached down\r\ncaressingly over her white neck. She was a strangely, fiercely beautiful\r\ncreature, made to love and to be loved, fated for tragic happenings. She\r\nwas twenty-nine.\r\n\r\nThe discussion waxed warm over the eternal question--how shall a woman\r\nsatisfy her emotional nature when she has no chance or almost no chance\r\nto marry the man she longs to marry?\r\n\r\nRoberta Vallis put forth views that would have frozen old-fashioned\r\nmoralists into speechless disapproval--entire freedom of choice and\r\naction for women as well as men, freedom to unite with a mate or\r\nseparate from a mate--both sexes to have exactly the same\r\nresponsibilities or lack of responsibilities in these sentimental\r\narrangements.\r\n\r\n"No, no! I call that loathsome, abominable," declared Penelope, and the\r\npoet adoringly agreed with her, although his practice had been\r\nnotoriously at variance with these professions.\r\n\r\n"Suppose a woman finds herself married to some beast of a man," flashed\r\nRoberta, "some worthless drunkard, do you mean to tell me it is her duty\r\nto stick to such a husband, and spoil her whole life?"\r\n\r\nTo which Penelope, hiding her agitation, said: "I--I am not discussing\r\nthat phase of the question. I mean that if a woman is alone in the\r\nworld, if she longs for the companionship of a man--the intimate\r\ncompanionship--"\r\n\r\n"Ha, ha, ha!" snickered the poet. I can see his close cropped yellow\r\nbeard and his red face wrinkling in merriment at this supposition.\r\n\r\n"I hate your Greenwich Village philosophy," stormed Penelope. "You\r\nhaven\'t the courage, the understanding to commit one big splendid sin\r\nthat even the angels in heaven might approve, but you fritter away your\r\nsouls and spoil your bodies in cheap little sins that are\r\njust--_disgusting!_"\r\n\r\nThe poet shrivelled under her scorn.\r\n\r\n"But--one splendid sin?" he stammered. "That means a woman must go to\r\nher mate, doesn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"Without marriage? Never! I\'ll tell you what a woman should do--I\'ll\r\ntell you what I would do, just to prove that I am not conventional, I\r\nwould act on the principle that there is a sacred right God has given to\r\nevery woman who is born, a right that not even God Himself can take away\r\nfrom her, I mean the right to--"\r\n\r\nA muffled scream interrupted her, a quick catching of the breath by a\r\nstout lady, a newcomer, who was seated on a divan, I should have judged\r\nthis woman to be a rather commonplace person except that her deeply\r\nsunken eyes seemed to carry a far away expression as if she saw things\r\nthat were invisible to others. Now her eyes were fixed on Penelope.\r\n\r\n"Oh, the beautiful scarlet light!" she murmured. "There! Don\'t you\r\nsee--moving down her arm? And another one--on her shoulder! Scarlet\r\nlights! My poor child! My poor child!"\r\n\r\nOrdinarily we would have laughed at this, for, of course, we saw no\r\nscarlet lights, but somehow now we did not laugh. On the contrary we\r\nfell into hushed and wondering attention, and, turning to Roberta, we\r\nlearned that this was Seraphine, a trance medium who had given s\xc3\xa9ances\r\nfor years to scientists and occult investigators, and was now assisting\r\nDr. W----, of the American Occult Society.\r\n\r\n"A s\xc3\xa9ance! Magnificent! Let us have a s\xc3\xa9ance!" whispered the poet. "Tell\r\nus, madam, can you really lift the veil of the future?"\r\n\r\nBut already Seraphine had settled back on the divan and I saw that her\r\neyes had closed and her breathing was quieter, although her body was\r\nshaken from time to time by little tremors as if she were recovering\r\nfrom some great agitation. We watched her wonderingly, and presently she\r\nbegan to speak, at first slowly and painfully, then in her natural tone.\r\nHer message was so brief, so startling in its purport that there can be\r\nno question of any error in this record.\r\n\r\n"Penelope will--cross the ocean," Seraphine began dreamily. "Her husband\r\nwill die--very soon. There will be war--soon. She will go to the war and\r\nwill have honors conferred upon her--on the battlefield. She will--she\r\nwill,"--the medium\'s face changed startlingly to a mask of anguish and\r\nher bosom heaved. "Oh, my poor child! I see you--I see you going down\r\nto--_to horror--to terror_--Ah!"\r\n\r\nShe cried out in fright and stopped speaking; then, after a moment of\r\ndazed effort, she came back to reality and looked at us as before out of\r\nher sunken eyes, a plump little kindly faced woman resting against a\r\nblue pillow.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Now, whatever one may think of mediums, the facts are that Penelope\'s\r\nhusband died suddenly in an automobile accident within a month of this\r\nmemorable evening. And within two months the great war burst upon the\r\nworld. And within a year Penelope did cross the ocean as a Red Cross\r\nNurse, and it is a matter of record that she was decorated for valor\r\nunder fire of the enemy._\r\n\r\n_This story has to do with the remainder of Seraphine\'s prophecy._\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I\r\n\r\n(_January, 1919_)\r\n\r\nVOICES\r\n\r\n\r\nPenelope moved nervously in her chair, evidently very much troubled\r\nabout something as she waited in the doctor\'s office. Her two years in\r\nFrance had added a touch of mystery to her strange beauty. Her eyes were\r\nmore veiled in their burning, as if she had glimpsed something that had\r\nfrightened her; yet they were eyes that, even unintentionally, carried a\r\nmessage to men, an alluring, appealing message to men. With her red\r\nmouth, her fascinatingly unsymmetrical mouth, and her sinuous body\r\nPenelope Wells at thirty-three was the kind of woman men look at twice\r\nand remember. She was dressed in black.\r\n\r\nWhen Dr. William Owen entered the front room of his Ninth Street office\r\nhe greeted her with the rough kindliness that a big man in his\r\nprofession, a big-hearted man, shows to a young woman whose case\r\ninterests him and whose personality is attractive.\r\n\r\n"I got your note, Mrs. Wells," he began, "and I had a letter about you\r\nfrom my young friend, Captain Herrick. I needn\'t say that I had already\r\nread about your bravery in the newspapers. The whole country has been\r\nsounding your praises. When did you get back to New York?"\r\n\r\n"About a week ago, doctor. I came on a troop ship with several other\r\nnurses. I--I wish I had never come."\r\n\r\nThere was a note of pathetic, ominous sadness in her voice. Even in his\r\nfirst study of this lovely face, the doctor\'s experienced eye told him\r\nthat here was a case of complicated nervous breakdown. He wondered if\r\nshe could have had a slight touch of shell shock. What a ghastly thing\r\nfor a high spirited, sensitive young woman to be out on those battle\r\nfields in France!\r\n\r\n"You mustn\'t say that, Mrs. Wells. We are all very proud of you. Think\r\nof having the _croix de guerre_ pinned on your dress by the commanding\r\ngeneral before a whole regiment! Pretty fine for an American woman!"\r\n\r\nPenelope Wells sat quite still, playing with the flexible serpent ring\r\non her thumb, and looked at the doctor out of her wonderful deep eyes\r\nthat seemed to burn with a mysterious fire. Could there be something\r\nOriental about her--or--or Indian, the physician wondered.\r\n\r\n"Doctor," she said, in a low tone, "I have come to tell you the truth\r\nabout myself, and the truth is that I deserve no credit for what I did\r\nthat day, because I--I did not want to live. I wanted them to kill me, I\r\ntook every chance so that they would kill me; but God willed it\r\ndifferently, the shells and bullets swept all around me, cut through my\r\ndress, through my hair, but did not harm me."\r\n\r\n"Tell me a little more about it, just quietly. How did you happen to go\r\nout there? Was it because you heard that Captain Herrick was wounded?\r\nThat\'s the way the papers cabled the story. Was that true?" Then, seeing\r\nher face darken, he added: "Perhaps I ought not to ask that question?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes, I want you to. I want you to know everything about\r\nme--everything. That\'s why I am here. Captain Herrick says you are a\r\ngreat specialist in nervous troubles, and I have a feeling that unless\r\nyou can help me nobody can."\r\n\r\n"Well, I have helped some people who felt pretty blue about\r\nlife--perhaps I can help you. Now, then, what is the immediate trouble?\r\nAny aches or pains? I must say you seem to be in splendid health," he\r\nsmiled at her with cheery admiration.\r\n\r\n"It isn\'t my body. I have no physical suffering. I eat well enough, I\r\nsleep well, except--my dreams. I have horrible, torturing dreams,\r\ndoctor. I\'m afraid to go to sleep. I have the same dreams over and over\r\nagain, especially two dreams that haunt me."\r\n\r\n"How long have you had these dreams?"\r\n\r\n"Ever since I went out that dreadful day from Montidier--when the\r\nGermans almost broke through. They told me Captain Herrick was lying\r\nthere helpless, out beyond our lines. So I went to him. I don\'t know how\r\nI got there, but--I found him. He was wounded in the thigh and a German\r\nbeast was standing over him when I came up. He was going to run him\r\nthrough with a bayonet. And somehow, I--I don\'t know how I did it, but\r\nI caught up a pistol from a dead soldier and I shot the German."\r\n\r\n"Good Lord! You don\'t say! They didn\'t have that in the papers! What a\r\nwoman! No wonder you\'ve had bad dreams!"\r\n\r\nPenelope passed a slender hand over her eyes as if to brush away evil\r\nmemories, then she said wearily: "It isn\'t that, they are not ordinary\r\ndreams."\r\n\r\n"Well, what kind of dreams are they? You say there are two dreams?"\r\n\r\n"There are two that I have had over and over again, but there are\r\nothers, all part of a sequence with the same person in them."\r\n\r\nThe doctor looked at her sharply. "The same person? A person that you\r\nrecognize?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"A person you have really seen? A man?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, the man I killed."\r\n\r\n"Oh!"\r\n\r\n"I told you he was a beast. I saw that in his face, but I _know_ it now\r\nbecause I dream of things that he did as a conqueror--in the villages."\r\n\r\n"I see--brutal things?"\r\n\r\n"Worse than that. In one dream I see him--Oh!" she shuddered and the\r\nagony in her eyes was more eloquent than words.\r\n\r\n"My dear lady, you are naturally wrought up by these dreadful\r\nexperiences, you need rest, quiet surroundings, good food, a little\r\nrelaxation----"\r\n\r\n"No, no, no," Mrs. Wells interrupted impatiently.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t tell me those old things. I am a trained nurse. I _know_ my case\r\nis entirely different."\r\n\r\n"How is it different? We all have dreams. I have dreams myself. One\r\nnight I dreamed that I was dissecting the janitor downstairs; sometimes\r\nI wish I had."\r\n\r\nPenelope brushed aside this effort at humor. "You haven\'t dreamed that\r\ntwenty times with every detail the same, have you? That\'s how I dream. I\r\nsee these faces, real faces, again and again. I hear the same cries, the\r\nsame words, vile words. Oh, I can\'t tell you how horrible it is!"\r\n\r\n"But we are not responsible for our dreams," the doctor insisted.\r\n\r\nShe shook her head wearily. "That\'s just the point, it seems to me that\r\nI am responsible. I feel as if I _enjoy_ these horrible dreams--while I\r\nam dreaming them. When I am awake, the very thought of them makes me\r\nshudder, but while I am dreaming I seem to be an entirely different\r\nperson--a low, vulgar creature proud of the brutal strength and\r\ncoarseness of her man. I seem to be a part of this human beast! When I\r\nwake up I feel as if my soul had been stained, dragged in the mire,\r\nalmost lost. It seems as if I could never again feel any self-respect.\r\nOh, doctor," Penelope\'s voice broke and the tears filled her eyes, "you\r\nmust help me! I cannot bear this torture any longer! What can I do to\r\nescape from such a curse?"\r\n\r\nSeldom, in his years of practice, had the specialist been so moved by a\r\npatient\'s confession as was Dr. Owen during Penelope\'s revelation of her\r\nsuffering. As a kindly human soul he longed to help this agonized\r\nmortal; as a scientific expert he was eager to solve the mystery of this\r\nnervous disorder. He leaned toward her with a look of compassion.\r\n\r\n"Be assured, my dear Mrs. Wells, I shall do everything in my power to\r\nhelp you. And in order to accomplish what we want, I must understand a\r\ngreat many things about your past life." He drew a letter from his\r\npocket. "Let me look over what Captain Herrick wrote me about you. Hm!\r\nHe refers to your married life?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\nThe doctor studied the letter in silence. "I see. Your husband died\r\nabout four years ago?"\r\n\r\n"Four years and a half."\r\n\r\n"I judge that your married life was not very happy?"\r\n\r\n"That is true, it was very unhappy."\r\n\r\n"Is there anything in your memory of your husband, any details regarding\r\nyour married life, that may have a bearing on your present state of\r\nmind?"\r\n\r\n"I--I think perhaps there is," she answered hesitatingly.\r\n\r\n"Is it something of an intimate nature that--er--you find it difficult\r\nto tell me about?"\r\n\r\n"I will tell you about it, doctor, but, if you don\'t mind," she made a\r\npathetic little gesture, "I would rather tell you at some other time. It\r\nhas no bearing upon my immediate trouble, that is, I don\'t think it\r\nhas."\r\n\r\n"Good. We\'ll take that up later on. Now I want to ask another question.\r\nI understood you to say that when you did that brave act on the battle\r\nfield you really wanted to--to have the whole thing over with?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I did."\r\n\r\n"You did not go out to rescue Captain Herrick simply because you--let us\r\nsay, cared for him?"\r\n\r\nFor the first time Penelope\'s face lighted in an amused smile. "I\r\nhaven\'t said that I care for Captain Herrick, have I? I don\'t mind\r\ntelling you, though, that I should not have gone into that danger if I\r\nhad not known that Chris was wounded. I cared for him enough to want to\r\nhelp him."\r\n\r\n"But not enough to go on living?"\r\n\r\n"No, I did not want to go on living."\r\n\r\nHe eyed her with the business-like tenderness that an old doctor feels\r\nfor a beautiful young patient. "Of course, you realize, Mrs. Wells, that\r\nit will be impossible for me to help you or relieve your distressing\r\nsymptoms unless you tell me what is behind them. I must know clearly why\r\nit was that you did not wish to go on living."\r\n\r\n"I understand, doctor, I am perfectly willing to tell you. It is because\r\nI was convinced that my mind was affected."\r\n\r\n"Oh!" He smiled at her indulgently. "I can tell you, my dear lady, that\r\nI never saw a young woman who, as far as outward appearances go, struck\r\nme as being more sane and healthy than yourself. What gives you this\r\nidea that your mind is affected? Not those dreams? You are surely too\r\nintelligent to give such importance to mere dreams?"\r\n\r\nPenelope bit her red lips in perplexed indecision, then she leaned\r\nnearer the doctor and spoke in a low tone, glancing nervously over her\r\nshoulder. Fear was plainly written on her face.\r\n\r\n"No--it\'s not just the dreams. They are horrible enough, but I have\r\nfaith that you will help me get rid of them. There\'s something else,\r\nsomething more serious, more uncanny. It terrifies me. I feel that I\'m\r\nin the power of some supernatural being who takes a fiendish delight in\r\ntorturing me. I\'m not a coward, Dr. Owen," Penelope lifted her head\r\nproudly, "for I truly have no fear of real danger that I can see and\r\nface squarely, but the unseen, the unknown----" She broke off suddenly,\r\na strained, listening look on her face. Then she shivered though the\r\nglowing fire in the grate was making the room almost uncomfortably warm.\r\n\r\n"Do you mind giving me some details?" Dr. Owen spoke in his gentlest\r\nmanner, for he realized that he must gain her confidence.\r\n\r\nPenelope continued with an effort:\r\n\r\n"For several months I have heard voices about me, sometimes when no one\r\nis present, sometimes in crowds on the street, at church, anywhere. But\r\nthe voices that I hear are not the voices of real persons."\r\n\r\n"What kind of voices are they? Are they loud? Are they distinct? Or are\r\nthey only vague whispers?"\r\n\r\n"They are perfectly distinct voices, just as clear as ordinary voices.\r\nAnd they are voices of different persons. I can tell them apart; but\r\nnone of them are voices of persons that I have ever seen or known."\r\n\r\n"Hm! I suppose you have heard, as a trained nurse, of what we call\r\nclairaudient hallucinations?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, doctor, and I know that those hallucinations often appear in the\r\nearly stages of insanity. That is what distresses me."\r\n\r\n"How often do you hear these voices--not all the time? Do you hear them\r\nin the night?"\r\n\r\n"I hear them at any time--day or night. I have tried not to notice them,\r\nI pretend that I do not hear them. I do my best to forget them. I have\r\nprayed to God that He will make these voices cease troubling me, that He\r\nwill make them go away; but nothing seems to do any good."\r\n\r\n"What kind of things do these voices say? Do they seem to be talking to\r\nyou directly?"\r\n\r\n"Sometimes they do, sometimes they seem to be talking about me, as if\r\ntwo or three persons were discussing me, criticizing me. They say very\r\nunkind things. It seems as if they read my thoughts and make\r\nmischievous, wicked comments on them. Sometimes they say horrid things,\r\ndisgusting things. Sometimes they give me orders. I am to do this or\r\nthat; or I am not to do this or that. Sometimes they say the same word\r\nover and over again, many times. It was that way when I went out on the\r\nbattlefield to help Captain Herrick. As I ran along, stumbling over the\r\ndead and wounded, I heard these voices crying out: \'Fool! Fool! Don\'t do\r\nit! You mustn\'t do it! You\'re a coward! You know you\'re a coward! You\'re\r\ngoing to be killed! You\'re a little fool to get yourself killed!\'"\r\n\r\n"And yet you went on? You did not obey these voices?"\r\n\r\n"I went on because I was desperate. I tell you I wanted to die. What is\r\nthe use of living if one is persecuted like this? There is nothing to\r\nlive for, is there?"\r\n\r\nHe met her pathetic look with confidence.\r\n\r\n"I think there is, Mrs. Wells. There is a lot to live for. Those\r\nhallucinations and dreams are not as uncommon as you think. I could give\r\nyou cases of shell shock patients who have suffered in this way and come\r\nback to normal health. You have been through enough, my young friend, to\r\nbring about a somewhat hysterical condition that is susceptible of cure,\r\nif you will put yourself in favorable conditions. Do you mind if I ask\r\nyou straight out whether you have any objections to marrying a second\r\ntime?"\r\n\r\n"N--no, that is to say I--er----" The color burned in her cheeks and\r\nOwen took note of this under his grizzled brows.\r\n\r\n"As an old friend of the family--I mean Herrick\'s family--may I ask you\r\nif you would have any objection to Captain Herrick as a\r\nhusband--assuming that you are willing to accept any husband?"\r\n\r\n"I like Captain Herrick very much, I--I think I care for him more than\r\nany man I know, but----"\r\n\r\n"Well? If you love Herrick and he loves you----" Owen broke off here\r\nwith a new thought, "Ah, perhaps that is the trouble, perhaps Captain\r\nHerrick has not told you that he loves you? I hope, dear lady, I am not\r\nforcing your confidence?"\r\n\r\n"No, doctor, I want you to know. Captain Herrick cares for me, he loves\r\nme, he has asked me to marry him, but--I have refused him."\r\n\r\n"But why--if you love him? Why refuse him?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, can\'t you see? Can\'t you understand? How could I think of such a\r\nthing, knowing, as I do, that something is wrong with my mind? It is\r\nquite impossible. Besides, there is another reason."\r\n\r\n"Another reason?" he repeated.\r\n\r\n"It has to do with my married life. As I said I would rather tell you\r\nabout that some other time--if you don\'t mind?"\r\n\r\nHe saw that she could go no farther.\r\n\r\n"Exactly, some other time. Let us say in about two weeks. During that\r\ntime my prescription for you is a rest down at Atlantic City with long\r\nwalks and a dip in the pool every morning. Come back then and tell me\r\nhow you feel, and don\'t think about those dreams and voices. But think\r\nabout your past life--about those things that you find it hard to tell\r\nme. It may not be necessary to tell me provided you know the truth\r\nyourself. Will you promise that?" He smiled at her encouragingly as she\r\nnodded. "Good! Now be cheerful. I am not deceiving you, Mrs. Wells, I am\r\ntoo sensible an old timer to do that. I give you my word that these\r\ntroubles can be easily handled. I really do not consider you in a\r\nserious condition. Now then, until two weeks from today. I\'ll make you a\r\nfriendly little bet that when I see you again you\'ll be dreaming about\r\nflower gardens and blue skies and pretty sunsets. Good morning."\r\n\r\nHe watched her closely as she turned with a sad yet hopeful smile to\r\nleave the room.\r\n\r\n"Thank you very much, doctor. I\'ll come back two weeks from today."\r\n\r\nThen she was gone.\r\n\r\nFor some minutes Owen sat drumming on his desk, lost in thought. "By\r\nGeorge, that\'s a queer case. _Her other reason is the real one. I wonder\r\nwhat it is?_"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II\r\n\r\nWHAT PENELOPE COULD NOT TELL THE DOCTOR\r\n\r\n\r\n(_Fragments from Her Diary_)\r\n\r\n_Atlantic City, Tuesday._\r\n\r\nI cannot tell what is on my mind, I cannot tell _anyone_, even a doctor;\r\nbut I will keep my promise and look into my past life. I will open those\r\nprecious, tragic, indiscreet little volumes bound in red leather in\r\nwhich I have for years put down my thoughts and intimate experiences. I\r\nhave always found comfort in my diary.\r\n\r\nI am thirty-three years old and for ten years, beginning before I was\r\nmarried, I have kept this record. I wrote of my unhappiness with my\r\nhusband; I wrote of my lonely widowhood and of my many temptations; I\r\nwrote of my illness, my morbid cravings and hallucinations.\r\n\r\nThere are several of these volumes and I have more than once been on the\r\npoint of burning them, but somehow I could not. However imperfectly I\r\nhave expressed myself and however mistaken I may be in my interpretation\r\nof life, I have at least not been afraid to speak the truth about myself\r\nand about other women I have known, and truth, even the smallest\r\nfragment of it, is an infinitely precious thing.\r\n\r\nWhat a story of a woman\'s struggles and emotions is contained in these\r\npages! I wonder what Dr. Owen would think if he could read them.\r\nHeavens! How freely dare I draw upon these intimate chapters of my life?\r\nHow much must the doctor know in order to help me--to save me?\r\n\r\nShall I reveal myself to him as I really was during those agitated years\r\nbefore my marriage when I faced the struggle of life, the temptations of\r\nlife--an attractive young woman alone in New York City, earning her own\r\nliving?\r\n\r\nAnd how shall I tell the truth about my unhappy married life--the\r\ntorture and degradation of it? The truth about my widowhood--those two\r\ngay years before the great disaster came, when, with money enough, I let\r\nmyself go in selfish pursuit of pleasure--playing with fire?\r\n\r\nAs I turn over these agitated pages I feel I have tried to be honest. I\r\nrebel against hypocrisy, I hate false pretense, often I make myself out\r\nworse than I really am.\r\n\r\nIn one place I find this:\r\n\r\n"There is no originality in women. They do what they see others do, they\r\nthink what they are told to think--like a flock of sheep. Their hair is\r\na joke--absurd frizzles and ear puffs that are always imitated. Their\r\nshoes are a tragedy. Their corsets are a crime. But they would die\r\nrather than change these ordered abominations. So would I. I flock with\r\nthe crowd. I hobble my skirts, wear summer furs, powder my nose, wave my\r\nhair (permanently or not) according to the commands of fashion, but I\r\nhate myself for doing it. _I am a woman!_"\r\n\r\nI am a woman and most women are liars--so are most men--but there is\r\nmore excuse for women because centuries of oppression have made us\r\nafraid to tell the truth. I try to be original by speaking the\r\ntruth--part of it, at least--in this diary.\r\n\r\nOn one page I find this:\r\n\r\n"The truth is that women love pursuit and are easily reconciled to\r\ncapture. Why else do they deck themselves out in finery, perfume\r\nthemselves, bejewel themselves, flaunt their charms (including decollet\xc3\xa9\r\ncharms and alluring bathing suit charms) in every possible way? I do\r\nthis myself--why? I have a supple figure and I dance without corsets, or\r\nrather with only a band to hold up my stockings. I wear low cut evening\r\ngowns, the most captivating I can afford. I love to flirt. I could not\r\nlive without admiration, and other women are the same. They all have\r\nsomething that they are vain about--eyes, nose, mouth, voice, teeth,\r\nhair, complexion, hands, feet, figure--_something that they are vain\r\nabout._ And what is vanity but a consciousness of power to attract men\r\nand make other women envious? _There are only two efforts that the human\r\nrace take seriously (after they have fed themselves): the effort of\r\nwomen to attract men, the effort of men to capture women._"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Wednesday._\r\n\r\nIn searching back through the years for the cause of this disaster that\r\nhas brought me to the point where a woman\'s reason is overthrown, I see\r\nthat I was always selfish, absorbed in my own problems and vanities, my\r\nown disappointments, grievances, emotions. It was what I could get out\r\nof life, not what I could give, that concerned me. I was vain of my good\r\nlooks. I craved admiration.\r\n\r\nOnce I wrote in my diary:\r\n\r\n"I often stand before my mirror at night before I go to bed and admire\r\nmy own sombre beauty. I let my hair fall in a black cloud over my\r\nshoulders, then I braid it slowly with bare arms lifted in graceful\r\nposes. I sway my hips like Carmen, I thrust red flowers into my bosom. I\r\nmove my head languidly, letting my white teeth gleam between red lips. I\r\nstudy my profile with a hand glass, getting the double reflection. I\r\nsmile and beckon with my eyes. Yes, I am a beautiful woman--primeval,\r\nelemental--I was made for love."\r\n\r\nAgain I wrote, showing that I half understood the perils that beset me:\r\n\r\n"Women are moths, they love to play with fire. They are irresistibly\r\ndriven--like poor little birds that dash themselves against a\r\nlighthouse--towards the burning excitements connected with the\r\nallurement of men. They live for admiration. The besetting sin of all\r\nwomen is vanity; _vanity is a woman\'s consciousness of her power over\r\nmen._"\r\n\r\nAnd again:\r\n\r\n"It is almost impossible for a fascinating woman not to flirt a\r\nlittle--sometimes. For example, she passes a man on the street, a\r\ndistinguished looking man. She does not know him, but their eyes have\r\nmet in a certain way and she feels that he is attracted by her. She has\r\non a pretty dress with a bunch of violets. She wonders whether this man\r\nhas turned back to look at her--she is sure he has--she longs to look\r\nback. No matter how much culture and breeding she has, _she longs to\r\nlook back_!"\r\n\r\nNo wonder that, with such thoughts and inclinations, I was always more\r\nor less under temptation with men, who were drawn to me, I suppose, just\r\nas I was drawn to them. And I tried to excuse myself in the old way, as\r\nhere:\r\n\r\n"It is certain that some women have strong emotional desires, whereas\r\nother women have none at all or scarcely any. This fact has an evident\r\nbearing upon the question of women\'s morality. Some women must be judged\r\nmore leniently than others. I have wondered if there are similar\r\ndifferences in men. I doubt it!"\r\n\r\nOf course I had agitating experiences with men because I half invited\r\nthem. It seemed as if I could not help it. As I said to myself, I was a\r\nmoth, I wanted to play with fire.\r\n\r\nOn the next page I find this:\r\n\r\n"Seraphine disapproves of my attitude towards men. She gave me a great\r\ntalking to last night and said things I would not take from anyone else.\r\nDear old Seraphine, she is so fine and kind! She says there is nothing\r\nin my physical makeup that compels me to be a flirt. I can act more\r\ndiscreetly if I wish to. It is my mental attitude toward romantic things\r\nthat is wrong. Thousands of women just as pretty as I am never place\r\nthemselves in situations with men that are almost certain to lead them\r\ninto temptation. They will not start an emotional episode that may\r\neasily, as they know quite well, have a dangerous ending. But I am\r\nalways ready to start, confident that my self-control will save me from\r\nany immediate disaster. And so far it always has."\r\n\r\nHow earnestly Seraphine sounded her warning. I wrote down her words and\r\npromised to heed them: "_Remember, dear, that emotional desire\r\ndeliberately aroused in \'harmless flirtations\' and then deliberately\r\nrepressed is an offense against womanhood, a menace to the health, and a\r\ndegradation to the soul._"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Thursday night._\r\n\r\nI am horribly sad tonight--lonely--discouraged. The doctor wants to know\r\nabout my married life, about my husband. Why was I unhappy? Why is any\r\nwoman unhappy? Because her love is trampled on, degraded--the spiritual\r\npart of it unsatisfied. Women are made for love and without love life\r\nmeans nothing to them. Women are naturally finer than men, they aspire\r\nmore strongly to what is beautiful and spiritual, but their souls can be\r\ncoarsened, their love can be killed. They can be driven--they have been\r\ndriven for centuries (through fear of men) into lies and deceits and\r\nsensuality or pretence of sensuality.\r\n\r\nThe great tragedy of the world is sensuality, and it may exist between\r\nman and wife just as much as between a man and a paid woman. I don\'t\r\nknow whether the Bible condemns sensuality between man and wife, but it\r\nought to. I remember a story by Tolstoy in which the great moralist\r\nstrips off our mask of hypocrisy and shows the hideous evil that results\r\nwhen a man and a woman degrade the holy sacrament of marriage. That is\r\nnot love, but a perversion of love. How can God bless a union in which\r\nthe wife is expected to conduct herself like a wanton or lose her\r\nhusband? And she loses him anyway, for sensuality in a man inevitably\r\nleads him to promiscuousness. I know this to my sorrow!\r\n\r\nPerhaps I am morbid. Perhaps I see life too clearly, know it too well. I\r\ndo not want to be cynical or bitter. Oh, if only those old days of faith\r\nand trust could come back to me! When I think of what I was before I\r\nmarried Julian I see that I was almost like a child in my ignorance of\r\nthe animal side of man\'s nature....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Friday._\r\n\r\nDr. Owen thinks my trouble is shell shock, but he is mistaken. I have\r\ntaken care of too many shell shock cases not to recognize the symptoms.\r\nCan I ever forget that darling soldier boy from Maryland who mistook me\r\nfor his mother? "They\'re coming! They\'re coming!" he screamed one night;\r\nyou could hear him all over the hospital. Then he jumped out of bed like\r\na wild man--it took two orderlies and an engineer to get him back under\r\nthe covers. I can see his poor wasted face when the little doctor came\r\nto give him a hypodermic. There he lay panting, groaning: "Oh those\r\nguns! Oh those guns! They break my ears!" Then he sprang up again, his\r\neyes starting out of his head: "Look out, there! On the ammunition\r\ncart! Look out, Bill! Oh my God, they\'ve got Bill--my pal! Blown him to\r\nhell! Oh, oh, oh!" and he put his head down and sobbed like a woman.\r\nThat is shell shock. I have nothing like that. I know what I am doing.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was a storm today with great crashing waves, then everything grew\r\ncalm under a golden sunset. I take this as a good omen. I feel happier\r\nalready. The infinite peace of Nature is quieting my soul. I love the\r\nsea. I can almost say my prayers to the sea.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Saturday._\r\n\r\nThe swimming master pays me extravagant compliments every morning when I\r\nsplash about in the pool. I know my body is beautiful. Thank God, I have\r\nnever imprisoned it in corsets.\r\n\r\nI love the exercises I do in my room every morning. They bring back the\r\nplay spirit of my childhood. When I get out of bed I slip into a loose\r\ngarment, then I lie on the floor and stretch my spine along the\r\ncarpet--it\'s wonderful how this exhilarates one. After that I take deep\r\nbreaths at the open window, raising and lowering my arms--up as I draw\r\nmy breath in, down as I throw it out. Then I lie down again and lift my\r\nlegs straight up, the right, the left, then both together. I do this\r\ntwenty times, resting between changes and taking deep breaths.\r\n\r\nI sit cross-legged on the floor with my feet on a red and gold cushion\r\nand rotate my waist like an oriental dancer. I stand on my head and\r\nhands and curve my body to right and left in graceful flexings. I do\r\nthis no matter how cold it is. I do not feel the cold, for I am all\r\naglow with health and strength. Then, before my bath, I do dumb-bell\r\nexercises in front of the mirror.\r\n\r\nI remember dining with my husband one night in a pink lace peignoir--we\r\nhad been married about three years--and during the dessert, I excused\r\nmyself and went into my bedroom and, posing before a cheval glass, I let\r\nthe peignoir slip off my shoulders, and stood there like a piece of\r\npolished marble, rejoicing in my youth and loveliness!\r\n\r\nHow I hated my husband that night! He had taught me to drink. He had\r\nmade me sensual. He had not yet assumed the coarse, red-faced brutish\r\naspect that he wore later, but he had a coarse, red-faced brutish soul.\r\nAlas! his body was still fine enough to tempt me. And his mind was\r\ndevilishly clever enough to captivate my fancy. He took away my faith,\r\n_even my faith in motherhood_. That was why I chiefly hated him.\r\n\r\nFor three years my husband disgusted me with his unfaithfulness. No\r\nwoman was too high or too low, too refined or too ignorant, for his\r\npassing fancy, if only she had physical attractiveness--just a little\r\nphysical attractiveness. Anything for variety, shop girl or duchess,\r\nkitchen maid or society leader, they were all the same to Julian. He\r\nconfessed to me that he once made love to a little auburn-haired\r\n_divorc\xc3\xa9e_ while they were in a mourning carriage going to her sister\'s\r\nfuneral. _Et elle s\'est laiss\xc3\xa9e faire!_\r\n\r\nHe was like a hunter following his prey, like an angler fishing, he\r\ncared only for the chase, for the capture. That was the man I had\r\nmarried!\r\n\r\nWhat a liar he was! He poisoned my mind with his lies, assuring me that\r\nall men were like himself, hypocrites, incapable of being true to one\r\nwoman. And I believed him. The ghastly part of it is I still believe\r\nhim. I can\'t help it. I have suffered too much. I can never have faith\r\nin another man, not even in Captain Herrick. That is why I shall never\r\nmarry again--that is one reason.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Sunday._\r\n\r\nA wonderful day! I strolled along the board walk in my new furs, and met\r\na young mother pushing a baby carriage with two splendid baby boys--one\r\nof them sucking at his bottle. Such babies! She let me hold the little\r\nfellow and I cuddled him close in my arms and felt his soft cheeks and\r\nhis warm little chubby hands on my face. How I long for a baby of my\r\nown! I have thought--hoped--dreamed--\r\n\r\nI went to the movies this evening with some friends and laughed so hard\r\nthat I thought I would break something in my internal machinery.\r\n\r\nWhen I returned to the hotel I found a letter from Captain Herrick--so\r\nmanly and affectionate. He loves me! And I love him, more than anything\r\nin the world. I feel so well today, so glad to be alive that if Chris\r\nwere here, I think I would promise him whatever he asked. I long to give\r\nmyself entirely--_my beauty, my passion, everything_--to this man that I\r\nlove.\r\n\r\nAnd yet--alas!\r\n\r\nAm I bold and vain to call myself beautiful?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI find myself in my diary siding strongly with women against men in\r\nanything that has to do with emotional affairs, although I like men\r\nbetter than women. My tendency is always to blame the man. This is\r\npartly because of the hideous wrong that was done me by my husband and\r\npartly because I like to believe that, however blame-worthy women are in\r\nthe sex struggle and, whatever _faiblesses_ they may be guilty of, the\r\nfundamental cause of it all must be found in centuries of men\'s\r\nwickedness and oppression.\r\n\r\nI have written about this with much feeling. In one place I say:\r\n\r\n"Sometimes I feel as if there were a conspiracy of men--all kinds of\r\nmen, including the most serious and respectable--against the virtue of\r\nattractive women. What a downfall of masculine reputations there would\r\nbe if women should tell a little of what they know about men! Only a\r\nlittle! But women are silent in the main--through loyalty or through\r\nfear."\r\n\r\nAnd again:\r\n\r\n"What happens to an attractive woman who is forced to earn her own\r\nliving? In the business world? In the artistic world? Anywhere? I do\r\nnot say that men are a pack of wolves, but--I had such a heartbreaking\r\nexperience, especially in my brief musical career. I might have had a\r\nsmall part in grand opera at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York\r\nCity, so one particular musical wolf assured me, if I would show a\r\nlittle sympathy with his desire to assist me in some of the\r\nr\xc3\xb4les--occasional private rehearsals, and so on. Oh, the beast!... He\r\ngave the part to another girl (her voice did not compare with mine) who\r\nwas less particular, and she made her d\xc3\xa9but the next season. I went to\r\nwork at Wanamaker\'s store!"\r\n\r\nAnd still men pursued me.\r\n\r\nI find this entry:\r\n\r\n"Roberta took me to dinner yesterday at the Lafayette with her friend\r\nMr. G----, a man of sixty, red-faced, fat and prosperous, the breezy\r\nWesterner type. He is giving a grand party at Sherry\'s and wants me to\r\ncome. I said I was afraid I couldn\'t, my real reason being that I have\r\nno dress that is nice enough. He said nothing at the time, but kept his\r\neyes on me, and this evening, when I got home, there was a perfectly\r\nstunning dinner gown--it must have cost $250.--with a note from Mr.\r\nG---- begging me to accept it as I would a flower, since it meant\r\nabsolutely nothing to him.\r\n\r\n"How I longed to keep that gown! I think I should have kept it if\r\nSeraphine had not happened in.\r\n\r\n"\'Isn\'t this lovely?\' I said, holding it up. \'Do you think I can accept\r\nit?\' Then I told her what Mr. G---- had said.\r\n\r\n"She looked at me out of her kind, wise eyes.\r\n\r\n"\'Do you like him?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Well--rather.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Is he married or unmarried?\'\r\n\r\n"\'I think he\'s married.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Is he the man who gave Roberta her sables?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Y-yes,\' I admitted.\r\n\r\n"She looked at me again.\r\n\r\n"\'I can\'t decide for you, Pen; you must settle it with your own\r\nconscience; but I am sure of one thing, that, if you accept this dress,\r\nyou will pay for it, and probably pay much more than it is worth.\'\r\n\r\n"It ended in my sending the gown back and missing the dinner party,\r\nwhich made Mr. G---- furious, he blamed Roberta for my resistance, and a\r\nlittle later he threw her over. Like most men of that type who promise\r\nwomen wonderful things, he was hard, selfish and exacting--a\r\ncold-blooded sensualist. And poor Roberta, indolent and luxurious, was\r\nobliged to go back to work--up at seven and on her feet all day for\r\ntwenty dollars a week. She had been spending twenty dollars a day!\r\n\r\n"What is a woman to conclude from all this?" I wrote despairingly. "I\r\nknow there are decent men in the world; there are employers who would\r\nnever think of becoming unduly interested in their good-looking women\r\nassistants, who would never intimate that they had any claim upon the\r\nevenings of pretty stenographers or secretaries; there are lawyers who\r\nwould never force odious attentions upon an attractive woman whose\r\ndivorce case they might be handling--\'_Dear lady, how about a little\r\ndinner and a cabaret show tonight?_\'--There are old friends of the\r\nfamily, serious middle-aged men who would never take advantage of a\r\nyoung woman\'s weakness or distress; but, oh dear God! there are so many\r\nothers who have no decency, no heart! A woman is desperate and must\r\nconfide in someone. She has lost her position and is struggling to find\r\nanother. She craves innocent pleasure--music, the theatre, the dance.\r\n_She is so horribly lonely._ Help me, counsel me, she pleads to some man\r\nwhom she trusts--any man, the average man. Does he help her? Yes, on one\r\ncondition, that she use her power as a woman. Not otherwise. This is a\r\ngreat mystery to women--how men, who are naturally kind, can be so\r\ncruel, so persistent, so infernally clever in forcing women to use their\r\npower for their own undoing."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Tuesday._\r\n\r\nHere is an interesting thing that Kendall Brown once said on this\r\nsubject--I recorded it in my diary along with other sayings of this\r\nerratic Greenwich Village poet and philosopher:\r\n\r\n"The sex power of women is the most formidable power ever loosed upon\r\nearth," he declared one evening. "Thrones totter before it. Captains of\r\nindustry forget their millions in its presence. _Cherchez la femme!_\r\nThis terrible power is possessed by every dark-eyed siren in a Second\r\nAvenue boarding house, by every languishing, red-lipped blonde earning\r\neighteen dollars a week in a department store. And she knows it! Others\r\nhave vast earthly possessions, stores of science, palaces of art,\r\nknowledge without end--she has a _tresor_ that makes baubles of\r\nthese--she is the custodian of life, _she has the eternal life power_."\r\n\r\nHow true that is!\r\n\r\nAgain I wrote:\r\n\r\n"It may be argued that women are willing victims of this man conspiracy,\r\nI say _no_! Every woman in her heart longs to love _one_ man, to give\r\nherself to _one_ man, to be true to _one_ man. Even the unfortunate in\r\nthe streets, if she receives just a little kindness, if she has only\r\nhalf a chance and is encouraged to right living by some decent fellow,\r\nwill go through fire and water to show her gratitude and devotion. But\r\nmen give women no chance. They pluck the roses in the garden and trample\r\nthem under foot. Here is the great tragedy of modern life--_men wish to\r\nchange from one woman to another, whereas women do not wish to change. A\r\ncharacteristic sex difference between men and women is that men are\r\nnaturally promiscuous, but women abhor the thought of promiscuousness._"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Sunday._\r\n\r\nA wave of repulsion runs over me as I quickly turn the pages of my life\r\nwith Julian. And then a faint whisper comes to me: "The _truth_, you\r\nhave promised to tell it--at least to your own soul."\r\n\r\n_The truth!_\r\n\r\nSlowly I turn back to what I wrote in those unhappy days:\r\n\r\n"Why do I live with him? I no longer love him. At times I despise him\r\nand his slightest touch makes me shiver with disgust, yet I continue to\r\nendure this life--why?\r\n\r\n"It is because of the great pity I have for him. He is weak and\r\nhelpless, almost child-like in his dependence on me. I am the prop which\r\nholds up the last shreds of his self-respect. If I left him, he would\r\ndrift lower and lower, I know it. Sometimes I pass some awful creature\r\nstaggering along the sidewalks. He is dirty and uncared for. Long matted\r\nhair falls across his bleared and sunken eyes. I say to myself: \'But for\r\nyou, Penelope Wells, that might be Julian.\' And this gives me courage to\r\ntake up my burden once more."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnd again I find:\r\n\r\n"I am beginning to fear. I have been looking in my mirror and it seems\r\nto me that my face is taking on the lines of animalism that I see daily\r\nbecoming deeper in Julian\'s face. Must I continue this degradation? If I\r\nwere helping him to raise himself--but I am not, not really. It\'s too\r\nheavy a weight for me to bear. I am sinking ... sinking to his level. I\r\ncannot stand it. It is killing me...."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnd again:\r\n\r\n"I am too heartsick to write....\r\n\r\n"I began this a week ago in agony of soul when I tried to set down my\r\nfeelings about a horrible night with Julian, but I could not. He has\r\nbeen drinking--drinking for weeks--neglecting his business, breaking all\r\nhis promises to me. What can I do? How can I help him, strengthen him,\r\nkeep him from doing some irrevocable thing that will utterly destroy our\r\nhome and make me lose him? In spite of his weakness, his neglect, his\r\nfaithlessness, I cannot bear the thought of losing him. My pride is\r\ninvolved and--and _something else_!\r\n\r\n"He had not come home for dinner that night and it was ten o\'clock when\r\nI heard the door slam. Julian came into the living room and as soon as I\r\nsaw him my heart sank. He dropped into a chair without speaking.\r\n\r\n"\'Tired, dear?\' I said, trying to smile a welcome.\r\n\r\n"\'Dead beat,\' he sighed and stared moodily into the fire.\r\n\r\n"I went to him and rested my hand lightly on his head and smoothed back\r\nhis hair as he liked me to do. He jerked away.\r\n\r\n"\'Wish you\'d let me alone,\' he muttered fretfully.\r\n\r\n"I drew back, knowing what this irritability meant, and we sat in\r\nsilence gazing into the glowing ashes. His fingers beat a nervous tattoo\r\nagainst the chair and presently, with some mumbled words, he rose and\r\nmoved towards the door. Now I knew the fight was on, the fight with the\r\nDemon, drink, that was drawing him away from me. I followed him into the\r\nhall.\r\n\r\n"\'Don\'t go,\' I pleaded, but he pushed my hand from the door-knob.\r\n\r\n"\'I\'ll be back soon,\' he said, reaching for his hat.\r\n\r\n"\'Wait!\' I whispered. Deep within I breathed a prayer: \'Brave heart,\r\nhave courage; nimble wit, be alert; warm, white body hold him fast.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Come back ... before the fire ... I want to talk to you,\' I leaned\r\nagainst him caressingly, but I could feel no response as I nestled\r\ncloser.\r\n\r\n"\'Don\'t you care for me any more?\' I questioned tenderly.\r\n\r\n"He was still unyielding, his brain was busy with the thought of the\r\nbrown liquor that his whole system craved. Purposely I drew back my\r\nflowing sleeve and placed my warm flesh against his face. He turned to\r\nhis old seat before the fire.\r\n\r\n"\'All right, I\'ll stay for ten minutes ... if what you say is\r\nimportant.\'\r\n\r\n"When he was once more comfortable, I brought a cushion to his chair and\r\nsnuggled down at his feet, with my head resting against him. I drew his\r\nhalf reluctant hand around my throat, then I exerted every part of my\r\nbrain force ... to hold him. Ceaselessly I talked of our old days\r\ntogether--camping trips to the Northern woods of Canada, wonderful weeks\r\nof idling down the river in our launch, days of ideal happiness, spent\r\ntogether. I appealed to his love for me, his old love, and the memory of\r\nour early married life. He was unresponsive, and I could feel the\r\nrestlessness of his fingers in my hair.\r\n\r\n"Presently he pushed me aside, not ungently this time but,\r\nnevertheless, firmly. Once more the struggle began, and now I must rely\r\non the old physical lure to hold him.... Well, I won. I kept him with me\r\nbut was it worth such a sacrifice? As I think ... I burn with shame."\r\n\r\nThere are many entries in my diary like this, for my life with Julian\r\nwas full of scenes when I tried so hard ... so hard ... all in vain!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHere is another picture:\r\n\r\n"Last night Julian came home in a hilarious mood. His habitual sullen\r\nlook had gone and he almost seemed the man who had won me--before I knew\r\nhim as he really is.\r\n\r\n"\'Come along, Penny,\' he laughed as he caught me in his arms. \'We\'re\r\ngoing to celebrate. Dress up in that lacy black thing--you are seduction\r\nitself in it.\'\r\n\r\n"His praise made me happy and, responding to his mood, I changed my\r\nclothes quickly, and we set forth joyfully in anticipation of a pleasant\r\nevening.\r\n\r\n"Everything went well through the dinner, although I hesitated when\r\nJulian ordered wine; but I was afraid to oppose him or to speak a single\r\njarring word.\r\n\r\n"\'Drink up, Penny, and have some more. My God, but you are glorious\r\ntonight!\' he whispered as he leaned across the table.\r\n\r\n"I smiled and emptied my glass, and soon I became as reckless and jovial\r\nas he. We went from one cabaret to another, laughing at everything. All\r\nthe world was gay. There was no sorrow anywhere--only one grand\r\ncelebration. Julian was never so fascinating. I was proud of his good\r\nlooks, of his wit, of his strength as he lifted me from the taxicab and\r\nalmost carried me into the house.\r\n\r\n"\'My darling!\' I breathed as my lips brushed his cheek, \'I love you!\'\r\n\r\n"\'You see, Penny, how wonderful everything is when you are reasonable.\r\nIf you will only drink with me once in a while, I\'ll never, never leave\r\nyou.\'\r\n\r\n"He placed me gently in a chair. Soon the room began to whirl around ...\r\nand I knew no more....\r\n\r\n"This morning my head ached and a thousand needles were piercing my\r\neyes. I rang for the maid and asked for my husband.\r\n\r\n"\'He brought you home last night, but he went out again later and he\r\nhasn\'t come back,\' she said and her eyes did not meet mine.\r\n\r\n"\'Was I--was I?\' I stammered, shame possessing me.\r\n\r\n"\'Yes, Mrs. Wells, you were....\'\r\n\r\n"God! What have I gained? I have degraded myself without doing Julian\r\nany good. I have sunk to his level and have not even been able to keep\r\nhim at my side. I hate him! I hate myself even more!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI find a pitiful entry that I made only a few months before Julian was\r\nkilled. In a fit of anger he had left me, accusing me of being a drag on\r\nhis life, saying that I was to blame for all his follies. He was going\r\nto be rid of me now. So he took all the money in the house and went\r\noff--I should never see him again. At last I had what I had longed for,\r\nmy freedom, he had given it to me, flung it in my face. And then--\r\n\r\nThis is what I wrote six weeks later:\r\n\r\n"Well, I\'m a failure all right. Never again may I think well of myself\r\nor feel that I am entitled to the joys of life. For I\'m just a plain\r\nmoral coward. I couldn\'t even keep what was forced on me--my liberty.\r\n\r\n"Last Wednesday he came back, such a miserable wreck of a man, so\r\nutterly broken in every way that it would have moved a heart of stone.\r\nInside of me is a sorrow too deep for expression, but somehow a peace\r\nalso. Now I am sure that my bondage will never cease. But I couldn\'t\r\nrefuse to take Julian back when I saw what a state he was in. His\r\nspiritual abasement was such an awful thing that I could not shame him\r\nby even letting him know that I understood it."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Monday._\r\n\r\nI walked for hours beside the ocean, watching the waves, the sky, the\r\nsoaring gulls,--trying to tire myself out, searching into my heart for\r\nthe truth about my life--about my illness. I cannot find the truth. I\r\nhave done what Dr. Owen told me to do as well as I can and--I do not see\r\nthat any good has come of it. I have stirred up ghosts of the\r\npast--leering ghosts, and I hate them. I am sick of ignoble memories. I\r\nwant to close forever the door on those unhappy years. I want to be\r\nwell, to live a sane life, to have a little pleasure; but....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Thursday._\r\n\r\nI am tired of Atlantic City. I am going back to New York tomorrow. No\r\ndoubt I have benefited by these days of rest and change. My bad dreams\r\nare gone and I have only heard the Voices once. Dr. Owen will say that\r\nhis prescription has been efficacious, but that is not true. I know\r\n_They_ are waiting for me in the city, waiting to torture me. Then why\r\ndo I go back? Because it is my fate. I am driven on by some power beyond\r\nmy control--driven on!\r\n\r\n_Penelope will cross the ocean. Her husband will die very soon. There\r\nwill be war soon. She will go to the war and honors will be conferred\r\nupon her on the battlefields. Then she will go down to horror--to\r\nterror!_\r\n\r\nHow that prophecy of Seraphine haunts me! All of it has come true except\r\nthe very last. Horror! Terror! These two are ever before me. These two\r\nalready encompass me. These two will presently overwhelm me\r\nunless--unless--I don\'t know what.\r\n\r\nSeraphine is in New York, I have meant to go to see her, but--I am\r\nafraid, I am afraid of what she will tell me!\r\n\r\n\r\n_New York, Saturday._\r\n\r\nI must set down here--to ease my tortured brain--some of the things that\r\nhave happened to me since I last wrote in this book, my confessional.\r\n\r\nWhen I got back to town I found an invitation to go to a Bohemian ball,\r\nand I decided to accept. _Vive la joie!_ So I put on a white dress and\r\nwent with Roberta Vallis and that ridiculous poet Kendall Brown. It was\r\nthe first time I had danced since my husband died and I enjoyed it.\r\n\r\nSuch a ball! They called it a Pagan Revel and it was! Egyptian costumes\r\nand a Russian orchestra. Some of the Egyptian slave maidens were dressed\r\nmostly in brown paint. Kendall says he helped dress them at the Liberal\r\nClub. Good heavens! Kendall\'s pose of lily white virtue amuses me. He\r\nwent as a cave man with a leopard skin over his shoulders, and I danced\r\nwith him two or three times. His talk reminds me of Julian. How well I\r\nknow the methods of these sentimental pirates! What infinite patience\r\nand adroitness they use in leading the talk towards dangerous ground!\r\nHow seriously they begin! With what sincerity and ingenuous frankness\r\nthey proceed, and all the time they know exactly what they are doing,\r\nexactly what effects they are producing in a woman.\r\n\r\nKendall spoke of the modern dance in a detached, intellectual way. He\r\ndwelt on one particular development in the fox trot--had I noticed\r\nit?--there! that naval officer and the languishing blonde were doing it\r\nnow--which seemed to him un\xc3\xa6sthetic. It might be harmful in some cases,\r\nsay to a Class A woman. Being curious, I asked what he meant by a "Class\r\nA" woman and this gave Kendall his opportunity to discourse on\r\nfundamental differences that exist among women, so he declares. I wish I\r\nknew if what he says is true. He assures me he has it on the authority\r\nof a Chicago specialist, but I never put much dependence on anything\r\nthat Kendall Brown says. If this is true the whole romantic history of\r\nthe world will have to be rewritten and the verdicts of numberless\r\njuries in murder trials _passionels_ ought to be set aside.\r\n\r\nThe statement is that physical desire is universal among men, but not\r\namong women. One-third of all women, Kendall puts them in Class C, have\r\nno such desire; therefore, they deserve no particular credit for\r\nremaining virtuous. Another third of all women are in Class B, the\r\nnormal class, where this desire is or is not present, according to\r\ncircumstances. The last third of all women make up Class A, and these\r\nwomen, being as strongly tempted as men (or more so), are condemned to\r\nthe same struggles that men experience, and, if they happen to be\r\nbeautiful, and without deep spirituality, they are fated to have\r\nemotional experiences that may make them great heroines or artists,\r\ngreat adventuresses or outcasts.\r\n\r\nI am sure I do not belong in Class C, I _hope_ I belong in Class B, but I\r\nam afraid--\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI knew _They_ were waiting for me. Last night I heard Them again--after\r\nthe ball. It was a horrible night! I shall write to Dr. Owen that I must\r\nsee him at once.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER III\r\n\r\nA BOWL OF GOLD FISH\r\n\r\n\r\n(_A letter from Penelope_)\r\n\r\n_New York, February ----._\r\n\r\nDEAR DR. OWEN:\r\n\r\nDid you think I had vanished from the earth? I know I ought to have\r\nreported to you a week ago, but--I fear Penelope Wells is an unreliable\r\nperson. Forgive me! I am in great distress.\r\n\r\nI will say, first, that Atlantic City did me a lot of good. I came back\r\nto town happier than I have been for months, in fact I was so encouraged\r\nthat I decided to amuse myself a little, as you advised. Last night I\r\nwent to a rather gay ball with some friends, and I was beginning to\r\nthink myself almost normal, when suddenly--alas!\r\n\r\nI had a strange experience this morning that frightens me. I was sitting\r\nat my desk writing a note when I glanced towards the window where there\r\nis a bowl of gold fish, three beautiful fish and two snails. It amuses\r\nme to watch them sometimes. Well, as I looked up, the sunshine was\r\nflashing on the little darting creatures and I felt myself drawn to the\r\nbowl, and for two or three minutes I stood there staring into it as if I\r\nexpected to see something. Then, presently I _did_ see something, I saw\r\nmyself inside the bowl--in a kind of vision. I saw myself just as\r\ndistinctly as I ever saw anything.\r\n\r\nIn order that you may understand this, doctor, I must explain that\r\nCaptain Herrick took me home from the ball. It was two o\'clock in the\r\nmorning when we left the place and it had blown up cold during the rain,\r\nso that the streets were a glare of ice and our taxi was skidding\r\nhorribly. When we got to Twelfth Street and Fifth Avenue there came a\r\nfrightful explosion; a gas main had taken fire and flames were shooting\r\ntwenty feet into the air. I was terrified, for it made me think of\r\nParis--the air raids, the night sirens, the long-distance cannon.\r\nCaptain Herrick saw that I was quite hysterical and said that I mustn\'t\r\nthink of going up to Eightieth Street. I must spend the night at his\r\nstudio in Washington Square, only a few doors away, and he would go to a\r\nhotel. I agreed to this, for I was nearly frozen.\r\n\r\nWhen we entered the studio I was surprised to find what a beautiful\r\nplace it was. It seems that Captain Herrick has rented it from a\r\ndistinguished artist. There is a great high ceiling and a wonderful\r\nfireplace where logs were blazing. I was standing before this fireplace\r\ntrying to warm myself, when there came a crash overhead, it was only a\r\ngas fixture that had fallen, but it seemed to me the whole building was\r\ncoming down. I almost fainted in terror and Chris caught me in his arms,\r\ntrying to comfort me. Then, before I realized what he was doing, he had\r\ndrawn me close to him and kissed me.\r\n\r\nThis made me very angry. I felt that he had no right to take advantage\r\nof my fright in this way and I told him I would not stay in his studio a\r\nminute longer. And I did not. I almost ran down the stairs, then out\r\ninto the street. It was foolish to get so agitated, but I could not help\r\nit. I went over to the Brevoort and spent the night there. You will\r\nunderstand in a minute why I am telling you all this, it has to do with\r\nthe vision that I saw in the bowl of gold fish.\r\n\r\nIn this vision I saw myself enter Captain Herrick\'s studio just as I\r\nreally did--in my white satin dress. Christopher was with me in his\r\nuniform. Then I saw myself lying on a divan and--Chris was bending over\r\nme, kissing me passionately. He kissed me many times, it seemed as if he\r\nwould never stop kissing me--in the vision. All this was as clear as a\r\nmotion picture. The extraordinary part of it is, that I neither resisted\r\nhim nor responded in any way, I just seemed to be lying there--with my\r\neyes closed--as if I were asleep.\r\n\r\nI am very much distressed about this. I _know_ that I did not really lie\r\ndown on Captain Herrick\'s divan--I would not have done such a thing for\r\nthe world. I _know_ Captain Herrick did not really kiss me in that\r\npassionate way, as I saw him kiss me in the bowl of gold fish, but I\r\n_feel_ that he did. I am afraid that he did. I can\'t get over the\r\nfeeling that he did. This sounds like madness, doesn\'t it? A woman\r\ncannot be ardently kissed by a man without knowing it, can she? Perhaps\r\nI am mad--perhaps this is the way mad people feel.\r\n\r\nHelp me, doctor, if you can, and above all _please_ see Captain\r\nHerrick--he is an old friend of yours--and find out exactly what I did\r\nat his studio. I must know the truth. And I can\'t ask Chris, can I?\r\n\r\nYours in anguish of soul,\r\n\r\nPENELOPE WELLS.\r\n\r\nP. S.--Please telephone me as soon as you get this and make an\r\nappointment to see me.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IV\r\n\r\nFIVE PURPLE MARKS\r\n\r\n\r\nDuring his thirty years of medical experience among neurasthenic and\r\nhysterical women, Dr. William Owen had never encountered a more puzzling\r\ncase than the one before him on this brisk winter morning when he set\r\nforth to answer the urgent appeal of Penelope Wells. Here was a case\r\nfated to be written about in many languages and discussed before learned\r\nsocieties. A Boston psychologist was even to devote a chapter of his\r\ngreat work "Mysteries of the Subconscious Mind" to the hallucinations of\r\nPenelope W----. Poor Penelope!\r\n\r\nWhen Dr. Owen entered her attractive sitting room with its prevailing\r\ntone of blue, he found his fair patient reclining on a _chaise longue_,\r\nher eyes heavy with anxiety.\r\n\r\n"It\'s good of you to come, doctor. I appreciate it," she gave him her\r\nhand gratefully. "I expected to go to your office, but--something else\r\nhas happened and I am--discouraged." Her arm fell listlessly by her\r\nside. "So I telephoned you."\r\n\r\n"I am glad to come, you know I take a particular interest in you," he\r\nsmiled cheerily and drew up a chair. "We must expect these set-backs,\r\nbut you are improving. You show it in your face. And your letter showed\r\nit. I read your letter carefully--studied it and--"\r\n\r\n"You haven\'t seen Captain Herrick?" she asked eagerly.\r\n\r\n"Not yet. I have asked him to dine with me this evening."\r\n\r\nPenelope sighed wearily and twined her fingers together in nervous\r\nagitation.\r\n\r\n"It\'s all so distressing. I can\'t understand it. Why did I see myself in\r\nthat bowl of gold fish, so distinctly? Tell me--why?"\r\n\r\n"You mustn\'t take that seriously, Mrs. Wells. These crystal visions are\r\ncommon enough--the books are full of them. It\'s a phenomenon of\r\nself-hypnotism. You are in a broken-down nervous condition after months\r\nof excessive strain--that\'s all, and these hallucinations result, just\r\nas colored shapes and patterns appear when you shut your eyes tight and\r\npress your fingers against the eye-balls."\r\n\r\nThis did not satisfy her. "What I want to know is whether there is any\r\npossibility that I really did what I saw myself do in that vision? Do\r\nyou think there is?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly not. I believe you did exactly what you tell me you did--you\r\nspent a few minutes in Christopher\'s studio and then came away angry\r\nbecause he kissed you. By the way, I don\'t see why one kiss from a man\r\nwho loves you and has asked you to marry him should have offended you so\r\nterribly, especially when you admit that you care for him?"\r\n\r\nHis tone was one of good-humored indulgence for capricious beauty, but\r\nMrs. Wells kept to her seriousness.\r\n\r\n"I didn\'t mean that I was really angry with Captain Herrick. I was angry\r\nat myself for the thrill of joy I felt when he kissed me and I was\r\nfrightened by the wave of emotion that swept over me. I have been\r\nfrightened all these days--even now!" She covered her eyes with her hand\r\nas if shrinking from some painful memory.\r\n\r\n"Please don\'t agitate yourself. You must not get hysterical about this.\r\nYou must have confidence in me and in your own powers of recuperation.\r\nAnd you must be sure to give me all the facts. Did I understand you to\r\nsay that something else has happened--since you wrote me?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, something quite unbelievable--it happened last night."\r\n\r\n"Tell me about it--quietly, just as if you were discussing somebody\r\nelse."\r\n\r\nPenelope smiled wistfully. "How kind and wise you are! I will try to be\r\ncalm, but--it is hard for me. I had a dream last night, doctor, and this\r\ndream is true. I have evidence that it is true. I did something last\r\nnight without knowing it, and then I dreamed about it."\r\n\r\n"You did something without knowing it?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I put on a red dress and a black hat that I have not worn for four\r\nyears, not since my husband died. For four years I have only worn black\r\nor white."\r\n\r\n"Do I understand you to say that you put on these things without knowing\r\nthat you put them on?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"How do you know you did?"\r\n\r\n"My maid told me so. You see my dream was so extraordinarily vivid--I\'ll\r\ngive you the details in a minute--that, as soon as I awakened, I rang\r\nfor Jeanne and questioned her. \'Jeanne,\' I said, \'you know the red dress\r\nthat I have not worn since my husband died?\' She looked at me in a queer\r\nway and said: \'Madame is laughing at me. Madame knows quite well that\r\nshe wore the red dress last night.\' Then she recalled everything in\r\ndetail, how I sent her to a particular shelf where this dress was folded\r\naway and got her to freshen up a ribbon and press the skirt where it was\r\nwrinkled. Jeanne is also positive that I put on my black hat. Then, she\r\nsays, I went out; I left the house at five minutes to nine and came back\r\nabout eleven. There is no doubt about it."\r\n\r\n"And you remember nothing of all this?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing. So--so you see," she faltered, then she leaned impulsively\r\ntoward the doctor. "As an expert will you please tell me if it is\r\npossible for a woman to act like that unless her mind is affected?"\r\n\r\nDr. Owen tried to take this lightly. "I\'m a fairly sane citizen myself,\r\nbut if you asked me which suit I wore yesterday, I couldn\'t tell you."\r\n\r\n"You couldn\'t suddenly put on red clothes without knowing it, if you had\r\nbeen wearing black clothes for years, could you?" she demanded.\r\n\r\nHe laughed. "When it comes to clothes I might do anything. I might wear\r\na straw hat in January. But I couldn\'t go out of the house without\r\nknowing it. Do you mean to tell me you don\'t remember going out of the\r\nhouse last night?"\r\n\r\n"I certainly do not. I remember nothing about it. I would have sworn\r\nthat I went to bed early," she insisted.\r\n\r\n"Hm! Have you any idea where you went?"\r\n\r\n"Yes--I know where I went, but I only know this from my dream. I know I\r\nwent to Captain Herrick\'s studio. You--you can ask him."\r\n\r\n"Of course. You haven\'t asked him yourself--you haven\'t telephoned, have\r\nyou?"\r\n\r\n"No, no! I would be ashamed to ask him."\r\n\r\nThe doctor noted her increasing agitation and the flood of color\r\nmounting to her cheeks.\r\n\r\n"Steady now! Take it easy. Have you any idea what you did at the studio,\r\nassuming that you really went there?"\r\n\r\nPenelope hesitated, biting her lips. "I know what I saw myself do in the\r\ndream. I acted in an impossible way. I--I--here is a little thing--you\r\nknow I never smoke, but in the dream I did smoke."\r\n\r\n"Have you ever smoked?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I did when my husband was living. He taught me. He said I was a\r\nbetter sport when I was smoking a cigarette."\r\n\r\n"But you haven\'t smoked since your husband\'s death?"\r\n\r\n"Not at all. I have not smoked once since he died, not once--until last\r\nnight."\r\n\r\nThe man of science eyed her searchingly. "Mrs. Wells, you are not hiding\r\nanything from me, are you?"\r\n\r\n"No! No! Of course not! Don\'t frown at me like that--please don\'t. I am\r\ntrying my best to tell you the truth. I _know_ these things did not\r\nhappen, but--"\r\n\r\nHere her self-control left her and, with a gesture of despair, Penelope\r\nsank forward on a little table beside her chair and sobbed hysterically,\r\nher face hidden in her arms.\r\n\r\n"There! There!" soothed Dr. Owen. "I was a brute. I have taxed you\r\nbeyond your strength."\r\n\r\n"I can\'t tell you how grateful I am for your patience and sympathy,"\r\nmurmured Penelope through her tears, and, presently, regaining her\r\ncomposure, she continued her confession.\r\n\r\n"I want you to know everything--now. In my dream there was a scene of\r\npassion between Captain Herrick and myself. He held me in his arms and\r\nkissed me and I--I responded. We both seemed to be swept on by a\r\nreckless madness and at one moment Chris seized me roughly with his hand\r\nand--of course you think this is all an illusion, but--look here!" She\r\nthrew open her loose garment and on her beautiful shoulder pointed to\r\nfive perfectly plain purple marks that might have been made by the\r\nfingers of a man\'s hand.\r\n\r\n"Extraordinary!" muttered the doctor. "Let me look at this closer. Have\r\nyou got such a thing as a magnifying glass? Ah, thank you!"\r\n\r\nFor some moments he silently studied these strange marks on the fair\r\nyoung bosom, then he said very gravely: "Mrs. Wells, I want to think\r\nthis over before giving an opinion. And I must have a serious talk with\r\nCaptain Herrick."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER V\r\n\r\nWHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT THE STUDIO\r\n\r\n\r\nFor the purposes of this narrative, which is concerned almost\r\nexclusively with the poignant strangeness of a woman\'s experiences, it\r\nis sufficient to say that Captain Christopher Herrick was what is\r\ngenerally known as a fine fellow--handsome, modest, well-to-do,\r\naltogether desirable as a lover and a husband. At thirty-five he had\r\nmade for himself an enviable position as a New York architect, one who\r\nwas able to strike out boldly in new lines while maintaining a\r\nreasonable respect for venerable traditions. He had served gallantly in\r\nthe war and he was now, for quite understandable reasons, desperately in\r\nlove with Penelope Wells.\r\n\r\nOn this particular evening when Christopher had been summoned by his\r\nmuch respected friend, Dr. Owen, to dine and discuss a matter of\r\nimmediate importance, the young officer had accepted eagerly. For some\r\ntime he had wanted to talk with the doctor about Penelope\'s nervous\r\ncondition. He was drawn to this girl by a force that stirred the depths\r\nof his being--he could not live without her; yet his love was clouded by\r\nanxiety at her strange behavior.\r\n\r\nChristopher\'s face was troubled. His brain was in a turmoil. The\r\nhappenings of the last few days bewildered him. Life had seemed so\r\nsimple, so beautiful, with just their great love for each other to build\r\non; but now.... He was only sure of one thing, that from the moment\r\nPenelope Wells had come to him as a ministering angel across the scarred\r\nand broken battle field, he had adored her with a love that would endure\r\nuntil the day of his death ... and, he told himself, beyond that!\r\n\r\n"Chris, my boy," began Owen in his bluff, cheery way when they had\r\nretired to the study for coffee and cigars, "I am in a difficulty, I\r\nmust ask you some questions that may embarrass you--it\'s the only way\r\nout."\r\n\r\nHerrick\'s clear, honest gaze met the doctor\'s eyes unflinchingly.\r\n\r\n"That\'s all right, sir. Go ahead. I suppose it\'s about Mrs. Wells?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. I am very much interested in her case, not only on your account,\r\nbut because she is a wonderful woman. When I write your father I\'ll tell\r\nhim he\'s going to have a daughter-in-law who will make him sit up and\r\ntake notice. Ha, ha!"\r\n\r\nThe young man\'s heavy brows contracted gloomily.\r\n\r\n"I wish that were true, sir, but--you know what I told you?"\r\n\r\n"About her refusing you? Don\'t worry over that. Just wait until we get\r\nher health built up a little."\r\n\r\n"Do you think she will change her mind? Did she say so?" Herrick asked\r\neagerly.\r\n\r\n"Pretty nearly that. If she doesn\'t marry you, she won\'t marry anyone.\r\nThe fact is--Mrs. Wells is suffering from a nervous strain, I\'m not\r\nsure what it is, but there are abnormal symptoms and--I hate to force\r\nyour confidence, Chris, but, speaking as Mrs. Wells\' medical adviser and\r\na mighty good friend of yours, a sort of representative of your\r\nfather--you know how close your father and I have always been?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir, I know. I\'ll do anything you say."\r\n\r\n"You want to help this lovely lady? You want to make her happy?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s what I want more than anything in this world," the officer\'s\r\ngrey eyes flashed with the spirit of a lover and a soldier.\r\n\r\n"Good. Now the way to do it is--you must help her by helping me. I think\r\nI understand the situation up to a week ago, but since then--well, it\'s\r\na little complicated. Mrs. Wells has paid you two visits in the last few\r\ndays, hasn\'t she?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. Did she tell you?"\r\n\r\n"She told me a little. Try some of that port, Chris, and light another\r\ncigar," the older man said genially. "We may as well be comfortable.\r\nThere! Now tell me about Mrs. Wells\' first visit--after the dance?"\r\n\r\nAt this invitation the young officer began quite frankly and with a\r\ncertain sense of humor to describe the circumstances that led up to the\r\nclimax, but presently he hesitated, and, observing this, Owen said: "No\r\nfalse delicacy, please. It\'s extremely important to me as a doctor to\r\nknow everything that happened. You say Mrs. Wells came in chilled and\r\nfrightened and--then what?"\r\n\r\n"Then I threw a couple of logs on the fire and was just going to get\r\nher some brandy against the cold when there came an awful racket\r\noverhead, it shook the whole place and Penelope was so startled\r\nthat--just instinctively I put my arm around her. She clung to me and--I\r\ntried to soothe her and before I knew it--I couldn\'t help it--I kissed\r\nher."\r\n\r\nThe doctor smiled. "If you hadn\'t kissed her under those circumstances,\r\nmy boy, I would never have forgiven you. Perhaps she wouldn\'t either.\r\nWell?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s going to be pretty tough, sir, to tell you--some of this,"\r\nstammered Herrick, frowning at the carpet. "Penelope got awfully angry\r\nand said she was going to leave. I apologized and tried to square\r\nmyself, but she wouldn\'t have it. She said I had insulted her and she\r\nrefused to stay in my place another minute. I asked her to wait until I\r\ncould get a dry coat and umbrella for her and then I would take her\r\nwherever she wanted to go. She agreed to wait and I went into the other\r\nroom."\r\n\r\nChristopher paused and drew his chair closer to the doctor.\r\n\r\n"Now here is a most extraordinary thing. When I left Penelope she was\r\nstanding before the fire, furious with me, but when I came back, not two\r\nminutes later, she was lying on the divan with her eyes closed,\r\napparently asleep. As I had been out of the room for so short a time, it\r\nseemed incredible that she could have really fallen asleep, yet there\r\nshe was. I looked at her in astonishment. I wondered if she could have\r\nfainted, but I saw that her cheeks were flushed, her lips were red and\r\nshe was breathing regularly. I didn\'t know what to make of it."\r\n\r\n"Well?" questioned the doctor.\r\n\r\nHerrick shifted uneasily on his chair. "I haven\'t had much experience\r\nwith women, sir, but I know they are complicated creatures, and I\r\ncouldn\'t help thinking that Penelope was playing a little joke on me; so\r\nI bent over her and, after I had made up my mind that she wasn\'t ill and\r\nwasn\'t asleep, I--I kissed her again. That\'s another queer thing. Her\r\nlips were warm, her breathing was as soft and regular as a child\'s, but\r\nshe never moved nor spoke nor responded in any way. She just lay there\r\nand--"\r\n\r\n"You thought she was shamming?" suggested Owen.\r\n\r\n"That\'s it, especially as she had been so angry with me just a few\r\nminutes before. I couldn\'t imagine anything else. So--er--"\r\n\r\n"Go on," said the older man.\r\n\r\n"You know I have always respected women, and this woman was more to me\r\nthan anything--she\'s the woman I want for my wife, so you see I would be\r\nthe last man in the world to show her disrespect, but--" the young\r\nfellow flushed--"as I looked at her there on the divan--so beautiful--I\r\nlonged to hold her in my arms and I said to myself that, even if she was\r\ntricking me, it was quite a pleasing trick--if she could stand it, I\r\ncould--so I--I kissed her some more. I begged her to speak to me, to\r\nrespond to me, to tell me she returned my love and would be my wife; but\r\nshe didn\'t answer, didn\'t move, or speak, she didn\'t even open her eyes,\r\nand presently I was filled with a horrible sense of shame. I felt like\r\na thief in the night, stealing caresses that were not meant for me or\r\nwillingly given. I realized that something terrible must have happened\r\nto Penelope, although she looked so calm and beautiful.\r\n\r\n"And now my only thought was to call for help. I hurried into the next\r\nroom and tried to get you on the telephone, but they said you were at\r\nthe hospital and could not be reached for an hour. Then I rushed back to\r\nthe studio and, as soon as I came in, I could scarcely believe my eyes\r\nbut there was Penelope standing in front of the fireplace, just as I had\r\nleft her the first time. She was looking at the blazing logs with a\r\nthoughtful expression and when I came close to her, she faced me\r\nnaturally and pleasantly as if nothing had happened.\r\n\r\n"You can imagine my astonishment, I could not speak, but--I was so\r\nrelieved to find her recovered that I put my arm around her\r\naffectionately and just touched my lips to her cheek. Heavens! You\r\nshould have seen her then. She sprang away from me indignant. How dared\r\nI take such a liberty? Had she not reproved me already? It was\r\nincredible that a man who professed to care for her, a gentleman, should\r\nbe so lacking in delicacy. And before I could do anything or explain\r\nanything, she had dashed out into the night alone, refusing even to let\r\nme walk beside her. Now then," Christopher concluded, "what do you make\r\nof that?"\r\n\r\n"Strange!" nodded the doctor, "very strange. And in spite of this she\r\ncame to see you again?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, two evenings later, without any warning, she burst into my studio\r\nabout nine o\'clock."\r\n\r\n"In a red dress?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"And a black hat?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Good Lord, it\'s true!" muttered Owen. "Go on, my boy. I want the\r\ndetails. This may be exceedingly important. Go right through the scene\r\nfrom the beginning."\r\n\r\nAfter a moment of perplexed silence, Christopher continued: "When I say\r\nshe burst in, that about expresses it. She was like a whirlwind, a red,\r\nlaughing, fascinating whirlwind. I had never seen her half so\r\nbeautiful--so alluring. I was mad about her and--half afraid of her."\r\n\r\n"Hm!" grunted Owen. "What did she do?"\r\n\r\n"Do? She did a lot of things. In the first place she apologized for\r\nhaving been so silly the time before--after the ball. She said she was\r\nill then, she didn\'t want to talk about it. Now she had come to make\r\namends--that was the idea."\r\n\r\n"I see. Well?"\r\n\r\n"Well, we sat before the fire and she asked me to make her a cocktail.\r\nShe said she had had the blues and she wanted to be gay. So I mixed some\r\ncocktails and she took two, and she certainly was gay. I didn\'t know\r\nPenelope drank cocktails, but of course it was all right--lots of women\r\ndo. Then she wanted to sit on the divan and she bolstered me up with\r\npillows. She said she liked divans. I hate to tell you all this, sir."\r\n\r\n"Go on, Chris."\r\n\r\n"Pretty soon she wanted a cigarette and she began to blow smoke in my\r\nface, laughing and fooling and--finally she put her lips up so\r\ntemptingly for another light that I ... I\'ll never forget how she bent\r\nover me and held my face between her two hands and kissed me slowly with\r\na little sideways movement and told me to call her Fauvette--not\r\nPenelope. She said she hated the name Penelope. \'Call me Fauvette,\' she\r\nsaid. \'I am your Fauvette, all yours.\'"\r\n\r\n"Extraordinary! This was the woman who had been furious with you only\r\ntwo nights before for daring to kiss her once?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. Now she was a siren, a wonderful, lithe creature, clinging to\r\nme. I almost lost control of myself. Once I caught her sharply by the\r\nshoulder--I tore her dress...."\r\n\r\nChristopher stopped as the power of these memories overcame him. He\r\ncovered his eyes with one hand, while the other clutched the chair arm.\r\n\r\nThe doctor waited.\r\n\r\n"Well, sir," the young man resumed, "I don\'t know how I came through\r\nthat night without dishonor, but I did. There was a moment of madness,\r\nthen suddenly, distinctly, like a gentle bell I heard a voice inside me,\r\na sort of spiritual voice saying two words that changed everything.\r\n\'_Your wife!_\' That is what she was to be, my wife! I loved her. I must\r\ndefend her against herself, against myself. And I did. I got her out of\r\nthat place--somehow. I got her home--somehow. I have been through\r\nseveral battles, doctor, but this one was the hardest."\r\n\r\nCaptain Herrick drew a long sigh and sat silent.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the answer, doctor?" he asked presently.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know, Chris. Upon my soul, I don\'t know."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VI\r\n\r\nEARTH-BOUND\r\n\r\n\r\n(_From Penelope\'s Diary_)\r\n\r\n_Tuesday Night._\r\n\r\nHeaven help me! I have heard the words that sound my doom. I saw Dr.\r\nOwen this morning. It is all true--my dream, and what I saw myself do in\r\nthe bowl of goldfish. True! I did those incredible things. I wore my red\r\ndress and my black hat. I went to Captain Herrick\'s studio. I lay down\r\non the divan--everything is true. Oh, God, this is too horrible! How can\r\nI ever face Christopher again? I wish I could die!\r\n\r\nDr. Owen questioned me about the name Fauvette--why did I ask\r\nChristopher to call me Fauvette? I have no idea. I hate and despise that\r\nname. It brings up memories that I wish might be forever blotted out of\r\nmy mind. That was the name Julian used to call me when he had been\r\ndrinking. He would pretend that I was another person, Fauvette, and\r\nsometimes Fauvette would do things that I refused to do. Fauvette would\r\nyield to his over-powering physical charm and would say dreadful things,\r\nwould enter into his mood and become just the sort of animal creature\r\nthat he wanted. It was like a madness.\r\n\r\n\r\n_Wednesday morning._\r\n\r\nI cried my eyes out last night and lay awake for hours thinking about my\r\nunhappy life. All my pride and hopes have come to this--an irresponsible\r\nmind. It makes no difference whether the cause is shell shock or\r\nsomething else, the fact remains that my mind does not work properly--I\r\ndo things without knowing or remembering what I do. I am sure I cannot\r\nlive long--what have I to live for? I have made a will leaving my little\r\nfortune to Chris--he will never know how much I care for him--and my\r\njewelry to Seraphine, except my silly thumb ring, which is for Roberta\r\nVallis. She loves it.\r\n\r\nThis afternoon _They_ came again. _They_ never were so bad. I was\r\nwalking down Fifth Avenue and, as I reached the cathedral, I thought I\r\nwould go in and say my prayers. I love the soft lights and the smell of\r\nincense, but just at the door _They_ began insulting me.\r\n\r\n"Little fool! Little fool! She is going to say her prayers. Ha, ha!"\r\nThey laughed.\r\n\r\nI knelt down and breathed an old benediction, shutting my ears against\r\nthe Voices:\r\n\r\n"_The peace of God which passeth all understanding--_"\r\n\r\n"Fauvette! Fauvette!" _They_ mocked me.\r\n\r\n"_Keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God--_"\r\n\r\n"She\'s a pretty little devil. I like her mouth."\r\n\r\n"_And of his son, Jesus Christ our Lord--_"\r\n\r\n"Red dress! Red dress! Divan! Divan!"\r\n\r\n"_And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy\r\nGhost--_"\r\n\r\n"She can\'t remember it. She\'s thinking of her lover. She wants to kiss\r\nher lover." Then _They_ said gross things and I could not go on. I got\r\nup from my knees, heartbroken, and came away.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Thursday night._\r\n\r\nI thought I should never be happy again, but whatever the future holds\r\nfor me of darkness and sadness, I have had one radiantly happy day.\r\nChristopher telephoned this morning and arrived half an hour later with\r\nan armful of roses. He took me to luncheon, then for a drive in the\r\nPark, then to tea at the Plaza where we danced to delicious music, and\r\nfinally to dinner and the theater. He would not leave me. And over and\r\nover again he asked me to marry him. He will not hear of anything but\r\nthat I am to be his wife. He loves me, he worships me, he trusts me\r\nabsolutely. Nothing that has happened makes the slightest difference to\r\nhim. Dr. Owen is going to cure me in a few weeks, there is no doubt\r\nabout it, Christopher says, and anyhow, he loves me.\r\n\r\nIf I were in Europe now I\'d make a pilgrimage to the shrine of some\r\nsaint and heap up offerings of flowers. I _must_ do something to make\r\nothers happy; my heart is overflowing with gratitude!\r\n\r\nI thrilled with pride as I walked beside my lover on the Avenue this\r\nafternoon. He looked so tall and splendid in his uniform. I love his\r\neyes--his shoulders--everything about him. My Christopher!\r\n\r\nI am to give him his answer within a week, but--_what answer can I give\r\nhim?_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Friday morning._\r\n\r\nAlas! I have paid for my happiness--it was written, it had to be. I have\r\nlived through a night that cannot be described. Seraphine\'s prophetic\r\nwords have come true. Horror! Terror! I cannot bear it any longer. It is\r\nquite impossible for me to bear it any longer. I have sent for\r\nSeraphine, begging her to come to me at once--this afternoon, this\r\nevening, any time tonight, before I sleep again. I would sooner die than\r\nendure another such night.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Saturday morning._\r\n\r\nSeraphine did not get my note until late, but in spite of a snow-storm,\r\nshe came to me and stayed all night. Dear Seraphine! She spends her life\r\nhelping and comforting people in distress. She sees nothing but trouble\r\nfrom morning till night, yet she is always cheerful and jolly. She says\r\nGod wants her to laugh and grow fat, so she does.\r\n\r\nWe talked for hours and I told her everything--or nearly everything.\r\nThere is only one abominable memory that I can never tell to anyone, I\r\nmay write it some day in the red leather volume of my diary that is\r\nlocked with a key and that must be burned before I die. I told\r\nSeraphine how I was suddenly awakened Thursday night by a horrible\r\nfeeling that there was a _presence_ near me in my bedroom. Then I slept\r\nagain and saw myself all in white lying on the ground surrounded by a\r\ncircle of black birds with hateful red eyes--fiery eyes. These birds\r\ncame nearer and nearer and I knew I was suffering horribly as I lay\r\nthere, yet I looked on calmly without a shred of sympathy for myself; in\r\nfact I felt only amused contempt when I saw the dream image of poor\r\nPenelope start up from the ground with a scream of fright.\r\n\r\nWhile I opened my heart Seraphine sat silent, watching me like a loving\r\nmother. Several times she touched my arm protectingly, and once her gaze\r\nswept quickly down my skirt, then up again, as if she saw something\r\nmoving.\r\n\r\n"What is it? What do you see?" I asked, but she did not tell me.\r\n\r\nWhen I had finished she kissed me tenderly and said she was so glad I\r\nhad let her come to me in my distress. She told me there was a great and\r\nimmediate danger hanging over me, but that God\'s infinite love would\r\nprotect and heal me, as it protects all His children, if I would learn\r\nto draw upon it.\r\n\r\nI asked what this danger was and Seraphine said it would strike at me\r\nvery soon through a dark-haired woman; but she would try to help me, if\r\nI would heed her warnings. I don\'t know why but I immediately thought of\r\nRoberta Vallis, and the strange part of it is that within an hour,\r\nRoberta called me on the telephone to say she was coming up right away.\r\nRoberta and Seraphine had not seen each other for years, not since that\r\nnight when Seraphine made her prophecy about me.\r\n\r\nWithin a half hour Roberta arrived very grand in furs and jewels, quite\r\ndashingly pretty and pleased with herself--the real _joie de vivre_\r\nspirit. She was perfectly willing to reveal the source of this sudden\r\nmagnificence, but I did not ask her--I know enough of Bobby\'s love\r\naffairs already--and I could see that she was uneasy under Seraphine\'s\r\ngravely disapproving eyes. She had come to invite me to a house-warming\r\nparty that she is planning to give at her new apartment in the Hotel des\r\nArtistes. I shall meet all sorts of wonderful people, social and\r\ntheatrical celebrities, and there will be music. Seraphine\'s eyes kept\r\nsaying no, and I told Bobby I would telephone her tomorrow before six\r\no\'clock. I was not sure whether I could accept because--"Haven\'t you an\r\nengagement for Thursday with Captain Herrick?" suggested Seraphine.\r\n\r\nWhereupon Bobby, with an impertinent little toss of her bobbed-off black\r\nhair, said: "Oh, Pen, why do you waste your time on a commonplace\r\narchitect? He will never satisfy you--not in a thousand years. Bye-bye,\r\nI\'ll see you at the party." Then away she went, her eyes challenging\r\nSeraphine who stands for all the old homely virtues, including unselfish\r\nlove, that Bobby Vallis entirely disapproves of. What shall I do?\r\nSeraphine says I must not go to this party, but--_I want to go!_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI have accepted Roberta\'s invitation, in spite of a warning from Seraphine\r\nthat something dreadful will happen to me if I go. I have a morbid\r\ncuriosity to see what experiences _can_ be in store for me that are\r\nworse than those I have gone through already. Besides, I do not believe\r\nwhat Seraphine says--it is contrary to my reason, it is altogether\r\nfantastic. And, even if it were true, even if I really am in the\r\nhorrible peril that she describes, what difference does it make where I\r\ngo or what I do? I am just a spiritual outcast, marked for suffering--a\r\nlittle more or less _je m\'en moque_.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI have hesitated to write down Seraphine\'s explanation of my trouble,\r\neven in my diary. I reject it with all the strength of my soul. I\r\nconsider it absurd, I hate it, I try to forget it; but alas! it sticks\r\nin my thoughts like some ridiculous jingle. So I may as well face the\r\nthing on paper, here in the privacy of my diary, and laugh at it. Ha,\r\nha!--is that false-sounding laughter?\r\n\r\n_Seraphine says that the great war has thrown the spirit world into\r\nconfusion, especially in the lower levels where the new arrivals come\r\nand linger. Millions, have died on the battle field in hatred and\r\nviolence. Great numbers of these have gone over so suddenly that they\r\nare not able to adjust themselves to the other plane where they\r\nconstitute an immense company of earth-bound souls that long to come\r\nback. There are myriads of these unreconciled souls hovering all about\r\nus, crowding about us, eagerly, greedily, striving to come back. Some do\r\nnot know that they are dead and rebel fiercely against their changed\r\ncondition. The drunkards still thirst after drink. The murderers want to\r\ngo on killing. The gluttons would fain gorge themselves with food, the\r\nlustful with bodily excesses. All these evil spirits, cut off from their\r\nold gratifications, try to satisfy their desires by re-entering earthly\r\nbodies, and often they succeed. That is the great peril of the war, she\r\nsays. What a horrible thought! I simply refuse to believe that such\r\nthings are possible._\r\n\r\n_And yet--those Voices!_\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VII\r\n\r\nJEWELS\r\n\r\n\r\nIf this were a conventional novel and not simply a statement of\r\nessential facts in the strange case of Penelope Wells, there would be\r\nmuch elaboration of details and minor characters, including the wife of\r\nDr. William Owen and an adventure that befell this lady during a\r\nweek-end visit to Morristown, N. J., since this adventure has a bearing\r\nupon the narrative. As it is, we must be content to know that Mrs.\r\nWilliam Owen was an irritable and neurasthenic person, a thorn in the\r\nside of her distinguished husband, who was supposed to cure these\r\nailments. He could not cure his wife, however, and had long since given\r\nup trying. It was Mrs. Owen who quite unintentionally changed the course\r\nof events for sad-eyed Penelope.\r\n\r\nIt happened in this way. Dr. Owen received a call from Mrs. Seraphine\r\nWalters on the day following Seraphine\'s talk with Penelope and was not\r\noverjoyed to learn that his visitor was a trance medium. If there was\r\none form of human activity that this hard-headed physician regarded with\r\nparticular detestation it was that of mediumship. All mediums, in his\r\nopinion, were knaves or fools and their so-called occult manifestations\r\nwere either conjurers\' trickery or self-created illusions of a hypnotic\r\ncharacter. He had never attended a spiritualistic s\xc3\xa9ance and had no\r\nintention of doing so.\r\n\r\nBut in spite of his aversion for Seraphine\'s _m\xc3\xa9tier_, the doctor was\r\nimpressed by the lady\'s gentle dignity and by her winsome confidence\r\nthat she must be lovingly received since she herself came armed so\r\nabundantly with the power of love. Furthermore, it appeared that the\r\nmedium had called for no other reason than to furnish information about\r\nher dear friend Penelope Wells, so the specialist listened politely.\r\n\r\n"You are the first spiritualist I ever talked to, Mrs. Walters," he said\r\namiably. "You seem to have a sunny, joyous nature?"\r\n\r\nHer face lighted up. "That is because I have so much to be grateful for,\r\ndoctor. I have always been happy, almost always, even as a little girl,\r\nbecause--" She checked herself, laughing. "I guess you are not\r\ninterested in that."\r\n\r\n"Yes I am. Go on."\r\n\r\n"I was only going to say that I have always known that there are\r\nwonderful powers all about us, guarding us."\r\n\r\n"You knew this as a little girl?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes, I used to see Them when I was playing alone. I thought They\r\nwere fairies. It was a long time before I discovered that the other\r\nchildren did not see Them."\r\n\r\n"Them! Hm! How long have you been doing active work as a medium?"\r\n\r\n"About fifteen years."\r\n\r\n"What started you at it? I suppose there were indications that you had\r\nunusual powers?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. There were indications that I had been chosen for this work. I\r\ndon\'t know why I was chosen unless it is that I have never thought much\r\nabout myself. That is the great sin--selfishness. My controls tell me\r\nthat terrible punishment awaits selfish souls on the other side. I was\r\nso happy when I learned that the exalted spirits can only manifest\r\nthrough a loving soul. They read our thoughts, see the color of our aura\r\nand, if they can, they come to those who have traits in common with\r\ntheir own."\r\n\r\n"If they can--how do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"My controls tell me that many spirits cannot manifest at all, just as\r\nmany humans cannot serve as mediums."\r\n\r\nAt this moment a maid entered the office and spoke to Dr. Owen in a low\r\ntone saying that Mrs. Owen had sent her to remind the doctor that this\r\nwas Saturday morning and that they were leaving for Morristown in an\r\nhour to be gone over Sunday. No message could have been more unfortunate\r\nthan this for Dr. Owen\'s equanimity, since he abominated week-end\r\ninvitations, particularly those like the present one (which Mrs. Owen\r\nrevelled in) from pretentiously rich people.\r\n\r\n"Very well. Tell Mrs. Owen I will be ready," he said, then turned with\r\nchanged manner to poor Seraphine, whose brightening chances were now\r\nhopelessly dissipated.\r\n\r\n"Suppose we come to the point, Mrs. Walters," he went on. "I am rather\r\npressed for time and--you say you are a friend of Mrs. Wells? Have you\r\nany definite information bearing upon her condition?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes," she replied and at once made it clear that she was fully\r\ninformed as to Penelope\'s distressing symptoms.\r\n\r\n"She is suffering from shell shock," said the doctor.\r\n\r\n"No, no!" the medium disagreed, sweetly but firmly. "Penelope\'s trouble\r\nis due to something quite different and far more serious than shell\r\nshock."\r\n\r\nThen earnestly, undaunted by Owen\'s skeptical glances, Seraphine\r\nproceeded to set forth her belief that there is today in the world such\r\na thing as literal possession by evil spirits.\r\n\r\n"You mean that as applying to Mrs. Wells?" the doctor asked with a weary\r\nlift of the shoulders.\r\n\r\n"Yes, I do. I can give you evidence--if you will only listen--"\r\n\r\n"My dear lady, I really cannot go into such a--purely speculative field.\r\nI must handle Mrs. Wells\' case as I understand it with the help of means\r\nthat I am familiar with."\r\n\r\n"Of course, but, doctor," she begged, "don\'t be vexed with me, I am only\r\ntrying to save this dear child, I love Penelope and--I _must_ say\r\nit--you are not making progress. She is going straight on to--to\r\ndisaster. I _know_ what I am saying."\r\n\r\nFor a moment he hesitated.\r\n\r\n"What do you want me to do?"\r\n\r\n"I want you to have a consultation with Dr. Edgar Leroy."\r\n\r\n"Dr. Edgar Leroy? Who is he? I never heard of him."\r\n\r\n"He is a New York doctor who has had great success in cases like\r\nPenelope\'s--cases of obsession or--possession."\r\n\r\n"Oh! Does he believe in that sort of thing? Is he a spiritualist?"\r\n\r\nSeraphine felt the coldness of his tone and shrank from it, but she\r\ncontinued her effort, explaining that Dr. Leroy had been a regular\r\npractitioner for years, but he had changed his methods after extended\r\npsychic investigations that had led him to new knowledge--such wonderful\r\nknowledge! Her deep eyes burned with the zeal of a great faith.\r\n\r\n"I see. Where is his office?"\r\n\r\n"In Fortieth Street--it\'s in the telephone book--Dr. Edgar Leroy. If you\r\nonly knew the extraordinary cures he has accomplished, you would realize\r\nhow necessary it is for Penelope to have the help he alone can give\r\nher."\r\n\r\nShe waited eagerly for his reply.\r\n\r\n"How do you happen to know so much about this doctor?"\r\n\r\n"Because I have been allowed to help him. He uses me in diagnosis."\r\n\r\n"You mean that Dr. Leroy relies upon information that you give him as a\r\nmedium in treating cases?" He spoke with frank disapproval.\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\nDr. Owen thought a moment. "Of course, Mrs. Wells is free to consult\r\nanyone she pleases, but I would not feel justified in advising her to\r\ngo to Dr. Leroy."\r\n\r\n"But you _must_ advise it, you must insist upon it," urged Seraphine.\r\n"Penelope relies entirely upon you, she will do nothing without your\r\napproval, and this is her only hope."\r\n\r\n"My dear lady, you certainly are not lacking in confidence, but you must\r\nrealize that I cannot advise a treatment for Mrs. Wells that involves\r\nthe use of spiritualistic agencies when I do not believe in\r\nspiritualism. In fact, I regard spiritualism as--"\r\n\r\nSeraphine lifted her hand with a wistful little smile that checked the\r\noutburst.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t say it--please don\'t. Will you do one thing, doctor, not for me\r\nbut for poor Penelope? Come to my house Monday night. I have a little\r\nclass there, a class of eight. We have been working together for three\r\nmonths and--we have been getting results. You may be allowed to witness\r\nmanifestations that will convince you. Will you come?" she pleaded.\r\n\r\n"You mean that I may see a spirit form? Or hear some tambourines\r\nplaying? Something of that sort?" His tone was almost contemptuously\r\nincredulous.\r\n\r\nThe anxious suppliant was gathering her forces to reply when the hall\r\nclock struck solemnly, bringing back disagreeably to the specialist\'s\r\nmind his impending social duty, and this was sufficient to turn the\r\nbalance of his decision definitely against Seraphine. He shook his head\r\nuncompromisingly.\r\n\r\n"I cannot do it, madam. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have strong\r\nconvictions on this subject and--" He rose to dismiss her. "Now I must\r\nask you to excuse me."\r\n\r\nIn spite of this disappointment Seraphine did not lose faith. "Dear\r\nchild," she wrote to Penelope that night, "I am like a man in the\r\ndarkness who _knows_ the sun will rise soon and is not discouraged.\r\nBefore many days Dr. Owen will listen to me and be convinced."\r\n\r\nFirm in this confidence, the medium returned to Dr. Owen\'s office the\r\nfollowing Monday morning, but she was coldly received. A rather\r\ncondescending young woman brought out word that the specialist was\r\nexceedingly busy and could not see her.\r\n\r\n"But it is _so_ important," pleaded Mrs. Walters with eyes that would\r\nhave moved a heart of stone. "Couldn\'t you ask him to give me a few\r\nminutes? I\'ll be very grateful."\r\n\r\nThe office assistant wavered. "I\'ll tell you why you had better come\r\nback another day, madam," she began confidentially; "Dr. Owen is very\r\nmuch upset because his wife has just lost some valuable jewelry. You\r\nsee, Mrs. Owen went to Morristown for the week-end and took a jewel box\r\nwith her in her trunk--there was a pearl necklace and some brooches and\r\nrings; but when she came to dress for dinner last night--"\r\n\r\n"Wait! I--I hear something," Seraphine murmured and sank down weakly on\r\na chair. She closed her eyes and her breathing quickened, while the\r\nyoung woman bent over her in concern; but almost immediately the psychic\r\nrecovered herself and looked up with a friendly smile.\r\n\r\n"It\'s all right. You are very kind. I am happy now because I can do\r\nsomething for Dr. Owen. Please tell him his wife is mistaken in thinking\r\nthat she took the jewels with her. The jewels are here in this\r\nhouse--now."\r\n\r\n"What makes you think that?"\r\n\r\n"My control says so." The medium spoke with such a quiet power of manner\r\nthat the office assistant was impressed.\r\n\r\n"Suppose I tell Mrs. Owen?" she suggested.\r\n\r\n"Very well, tell Mrs. Owen. Ask her if I may go to the room where she\r\nlast remembers having her jewel box?"\r\n\r\nThe young woman withdrew with this message and presently returned to say\r\nthat Mrs. Owen would be glad if Seraphine would come up to her bedroom.\r\nA few minutes later Seraphine faced a querulous invalid propped up\r\nagainst lace pillows.\r\n\r\n"I am positive I put my jewel box in the trunk," insisted Mrs. Owen. "It\r\nis foolish to say that I did not, it is perfectly useless to look for\r\nthe jewels in this house. However--what are you doing? Why do you look\r\nat me so strangely?"\r\n\r\n"The jewels are--in this room--in a chintz sewing bag," the psychic\r\ndeclared slowly, her eyes far away.\r\n\r\n"Absurd!"\r\n\r\n"I see the sewing bag--distinctly. There are pink roses on it."\r\n\r\n"I have a sewing bag like that," admitted the doctor\'s wife, "it is on a\r\nshelf in the closet--there! Will you get it for me, Miss Marshall? We\r\nshall soon see about this. Now then!" She searched through the bag, but\r\nfound nothing. "I told you so. My husband is quite right in his ideas\r\nabout mediums. I really wish you had not disturbed me," she said\r\nimpatiently.\r\n\r\nBut the medium answered pleasantly: "I have only repeated what my\r\ncontrol tells me. I am sorry if I have annoyed you. I advise you to\r\nsearch the house carefully."\r\n\r\n"I have done that already," said Mrs. Owen.\r\n\r\nWhereupon Seraphine, still unruffled, took her departure, with these\r\nlast words at the door to the office assistant: "Please tell Dr. Owen\r\nthat I beg him most earnestly to have the house searched for his wife\'s\r\njewels. Otherwise one of the servants will find them."\r\n\r\nAnd Dr. Owen, in spite of his scientific prejudices, in spite of his\r\nwife\'s positive declaration that the jewels had been stolen during her\r\nvisit, and that the house had been thoroughly searched, acted on this\r\nsuggestion and had the house searched again. _And this time the missing\r\njewel box was found, with the necklace, rings and brooches all intact,\r\nin a chintz sewing bag covered with pink roses!_\r\n\r\nIt seems that Mrs. Owen had two chintz bags, one for ordinary sewing,\r\none for darning, and in the latter bag, hanging on a nail behind the\r\nbureau, where the doctor\'s wife had absent-mindedly hidden it, the\r\nmissing jewel box was discovered.\r\n\r\n"This beats the devil!" exclaimed the doctor when he heard the good\r\nnews. And an hour later he sent the following telegram to Seraphine:\r\n"Jewels found, thanks to you. We are very grateful. I have reconsidered\r\nthe matter and accept your invitation for tonight. Will call at eight\r\no\'clock."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\nWHITE SHAPES\r\n\r\n\r\n(_From Penelope\'s Diary_)\r\n\r\n_New York January 31, 1919._\r\n\r\nAn extraordinary thing happened on Monday night at Seraphine\'s\r\napartment. I must write down the details before they fade from my\r\nmemory. Seraphine telephoned Monday morning that there was to be a\r\nmeeting of her occult class in the evening and she wanted me to come as\r\nDr. Owen had promised to be there. She regarded this as a great\r\nopportunity to help me. Darling Seraphine! Of course I could not refuse,\r\nalthough I abhor spiritualism. I love Seraphine for what she is, and in\r\nspite of her queer beliefs.\r\n\r\nWhen we were gathered together and after introductions to her class\r\n(there were six or seven devout believers), Seraphine explained that it\r\nwas difficult to obtain psychic manifestations in the presence of active\r\ndisbelief, and she begged us to maintain an attitude of friendly\r\nopen-mindedness. I am afraid I did not do this all the time.\r\n\r\nWe had first some psychic reminiscences and Seraphine described in\r\ndetail how on a certain night years ago she and her sister were sleeping\r\ntogether in a heavy mahogany fourposter bed, when the whole bed with\r\nthe two women was lifted several inches from the floor and rocked about,\r\nand was then held suspended in the air while the chamber resounded with\r\nstrange music. In my opinion, this was a dream or an illusion.\r\n\r\nI am also skeptical about the testimony of one of the group, a New York\r\nminister, who told us that his dead wife has come to him in the night on\r\nseveral occasions in materialized form and has spoken to him, kissed\r\nhim, and taken loving counsel with him about the children and about\r\nother matters. I am sure this minister was the victim of some kind of\r\nhallucination.\r\n\r\nAnd I cannot believe a statement of Seraphine\'s regarding a Southern\r\nwoman who is possessed by an evil spirit that forces her to drinking\r\nexcesses so that she has spoiled her whole life. Seraphine described to\r\nus with ghastly vividness the appearance of this evil entity which she\r\nis able to _see_, through her clairvoyant vision, with its hideous\r\nleering countenance, inside the lady. For my part _I refuse to believe\r\nit_.\r\n\r\nI admit that I began to have creepy sensations when Seraphine went into\r\nan entranced condition in the cabinet. Then came the happenings that I\r\ndo not understand and I know Dr. Owen does not understand them either,\r\nbut that does not prove that they were supernatural. I distinctly saw\r\ntwo white shapes rise from the floor--one of them was so close to me\r\nthat I could have touched it with my hand, but I did not because I was\r\nafraid. Besides, I was sitting in a semi-circle with the others and our\r\nhands were joined. Dr. Owen, however, was at the end of the line with\r\none hand free, and I saw him reach out towards the apparition (it was\r\nabout four feet high) and it seemed to me that his hand and arm passed\r\nright through the white shape. As he did this I heard a long sigh and a\r\nrustling sound and I was conscious of a chilling breath on my face. I\r\nasked Dr. Owen about this afterwards and he said that when his hand\r\ntouched the shape it felt as if he was grasping thick smoke.\r\n\r\nThe appearance of the second white shape was more terrifying because\r\nSeraphine came out of the cabinet when she evoked it. She wore a loose\r\nwhite garment and moved about the room in the near darkness like a woman\r\nwalking in her sleep. She repeated a beautiful prayer in a slow dreamy\r\nvoice--I wish I could remember it, the idea was that a great disaster\r\nmight be averted if God would open the eyes of two of His doubting\r\nchildren. I suppose she meant Dr. Owen and me.\r\n\r\nThen the second white shape appeared and seemed to rise and grow into\r\nthe likeness of a woman, but presently it wavered and dissolved.\r\nSeraphine reached out her arms towards it imploringly and I saw a\r\nwoman\'s hand take shape clearly and rest on Seraphine\'s hand, but this\r\npresently faded away, like a thing of vapor, and was gone. I have no\r\nidea what those white shapes were, or why they came, or why they went;\r\nbut neither have I any idea as to the operation of X-rays. These white\r\nshapes may in a few years turn out to be perfectly simple laboratory\r\nphenomena, no more mysterious than wireless phenomena were twenty-five\r\nyears ago. _I refuse to believe that a living person can be possessed by\r\nan evil spirit!_\r\n\r\nLooking back at this s\xc3\xa9ance, what troubles me is an utterance about\r\nmyself that is supposed to have been made by a voice from the other\r\nside. This came at the very end when Seraphine went into an entranced\r\ncondition again, with the lights up.\r\n\r\n"I have a message for one who is tenderly loved by an exalted spirit,"\r\nshe said, sighing heavily, her eyes closed, "one who would come to her,\r\nbut there is a barrier. She can regain health and happiness if she will\r\ncleanse her soul of evil. She must confess a sinful purpose that she\r\nentertained in her heart on the night of June 14, 1914."\r\n\r\nJune 14, 1914! I looked up this date in my diary and find that it was\r\nthe occasion of Roberta Vallis\' party when Seraphine made her prophecy\r\nabout me. Now I remember. We were considering what a woman can do to\r\nsatisfy her emotional nature if she has no chance to marry and longs for\r\nthe companionship of a man. I said, according to my diary, that "there\r\nis a sacred right given by God to every woman who is born, a right that\r\nnot even God Himself can take away--" Then I was interrupted by\r\nSeraphine and I did not tell them what that sacred right is or what use\r\nI personally proposed to make of it.\r\n\r\nBut I knew and know still, and the question that distresses me is\r\nwhether an exalted spirit (could it be my mother?) really possesses this\r\nknowledge of my wicked purpose--if it was wicked--or whether this is\r\nsimply a case of mind reading by Seraphine.\r\n\r\n"_She can regain health and happiness if she will cleanse her soul of\r\nevil--_" That was the message. Is it true? Is there evil in my heart?\r\nHave I entertained a sinful purpose? Have I the courage to answer this\r\nquestion truthfully, even in these secret pages--have I?\r\n\r\nYes, I will put down the truth and justify myself in my own eyes. Then I\r\nwill burn this book. I would die of shame if Christopher should ever\r\nread this confession.\r\n\r\nAs my chief justification, I dwell upon the frightful wrong that my\r\nhusband did me when he took away my faith in men, my faith in their\r\nability or willingness to be true to one woman. He did this by his words\r\nand by his acts. He assured me that sex desire in the male is so\r\nresistless that, when conflict arises between this desire and the\r\nteachings of religion, it is the latter which are almost invariably set\r\naside; with the result that great numbers of men, brought up as\r\nChristians, either renounce Christianity (if they are honest) or find\r\nthemselves forced into a life of hypocritical compromise in regard to\r\nsex indulgence. Julian told me this over and over again, no doubt to\r\nexcuse his own delinquencies, until it was burned into my soul that,\r\nwhatever happened, I would never marry another man, and expose myself to\r\ntorments and humiliations such as I had endured with him--never!\r\n\r\nAfter my husband died I had to face a problem that confronts thousands\r\nof high principled young women, widows, divorc\xc3\xa9es, in America and in all\r\ncountries--how could I bear the torture of this immense loneliness? How\r\ncould I adjust myself to life without the intimate companionship of a\r\nman? How could I satisfy my emotional nature? How?\r\n\r\nThere were two solutions, a second marriage and a lover. I rejected the\r\nfirst solution for reasons already given and the second solution because\r\nof evidence all about me that one lover usually means two, three, half a\r\ndozen lovers, since men grow weary and change and women, in loneliness\r\nor desperation, change also. Never would I let myself sink to the\r\ndegrading level of sex _complaisance_ that is sadly or cynically\r\naccepted by many women, self-supporting and self-respecting, in many\r\nAmerican cities, simply because they cannot combat conditions that have\r\nbeen created and perpetuated by the stronger sex.\r\n\r\nTherefore I worked out a third solution that was to satisfy my emotional\r\nnature and at the same time give me a reason for existence. I would\r\nadopt a little waif as my child, a French or Belgian waif, and I would\r\nbring up this child to be a useful and happy man or woman. I would love\r\nit, care for it, teach it, and with this responsibility and\r\n_soulagement_, I would be able to endure the loneliness of the long\r\nyears stretching before me. I would find this child while I was in\r\nFrance working for the Red Cross and bring it home after the war, only--\r\n\r\n_My purpose was to adopt a child that should be born of my own body!_\r\n\r\nThat is my sin, a sin never committed, save in intention, yet a sin that\r\nwould have been committed, if things had happened differently. The\r\narguments (based on the sacred right of motherhood and the longing for\r\na child) that led me to my original purpose still seem valid to me. It\r\nis terrible to say this now, but I must tell the truth and the truth is\r\nthat, if I had not met Captain Herrick, I would have done this thing. My\r\nwhole plan of life was changed because I loved Captain Herrick. What was\r\npreviously impossible became possible, and what was previously possible\r\nbecame impossible _because I loved Captain Herrick_.\r\n\r\nThat is the truth.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Tuesday._\r\n\r\nIf I love him so much, why am I possessed by a horrible fear that I will\r\nrefuse to be his wife? Good God, what a woman I am! I love Captain\r\nHerrick so much that I would gladly die for him--I have risked my life\r\nfor him already--and yet--\r\n\r\nI have promised Christopher his answer when we meet at Roberta\'s party\r\non Friday night, but I am not sure what I will say to him. Three days! I\r\ntold Roberta I would not go to her party unless she invited Christopher,\r\nso she did.\r\n\r\n\r\n_Wednesday._\r\n\r\nI feel much encouraged about my health. For nearly a week my sleep has\r\nbeen free from dreams and They have not come near me. I begin to think\r\nDr. Owen is right. I have been suffering from nervous disturbances\r\ncaused by shell shock, and I am on the road to recovery. I need rest and\r\nrecreation, especially recreation--anything to divert my mind from\r\nfears and somber thoughts. I say this to Seraphine when she warns me\r\nthat I must not go to Roberta\'s party. She says I will go at my great\r\nperil, but I refuse to entertain these fears. I crave the gaiety and\r\n_insouciance_ of Roberta\'s care-free Bohemians. Besides, I shall see\r\nChristopher. I will tell him that I love him with all my soul and will\r\nmarry him--the sooner the better--any time. Within a month I may be Mrs.\r\nChristopher Herrick. How wonderful!\r\n\r\n\r\n_Thursday._\r\n\r\nWhile I was looking back through my diary I came upon a reflection of\r\nJulian\'s--he said that men take no real interest in other men, _as men_,\r\nalthough they are interested in all women. The fact that men are sex\r\nanimals makes no impression upon other men, whereas the fact that women\r\nare sex animals makes an enormous impression. A man would hear of the\r\ntragic death of a thousand unknown men with comparative indifference, he\r\ndeclared, but would be distressed to hear of the death of a hundred\r\nunknown women. I wonder if that is true. I know that women are intensely\r\nconscious that all other women are sex animals. Is that due to jealousy?\r\n\r\nI came upon another thought of Julian\'s--about temptation. He pictured a\r\ndrunkard who has sworn off drinking. This man announces his virtuous\r\nintentions from the housetops--he will never drink again, he will avoid\r\ntemptation, he will not attend a certain convivial gathering, say\r\ntonight at nine o\'clock. He repeats this to himself and to others--he\r\nwill _not_ be present at this gathering. But all the time, deep down in\r\nhis heart, he knows that he will be present. He knows that nine o\'clock\r\nwill find him in his accustomed seat smiling upon flowing glasses....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI am afraid of tomorrow night. I am afraid of what I will say to Captain\r\nHerrick!\r\n\r\n\r\n_Friday morning._\r\n\r\nI dreamed last night that I was in a great purple forest and again I saw\r\nthe black birds with fiery eyes. They were in a circle around me,\r\njudging me. They wanted me to say something or do something, but I did\r\nnot know what it was, and I was in despair. Suddenly the trees opened\r\nand I saw a smooth black river pouring over a precipice and the birds\r\nbore me to the river and dropped me into it. Then, as I struggled in the\r\nwater, Chris leaped from the bank to save me, but I fought against him\r\nand we were both swept along towards the precipice. He caught me in his\r\narms, but I struck at him and screamed--and then I awakened.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSeraphine gave me a beautiful prayer or affirmation to say when I am\r\nafraid. I say this over and over again and it comforts me: "_I am God\'s\r\nchild. God is my life, God is my strength. My soul is in unison with the\r\nperfect love of God. There is absolutely nothing to fear. All thoughts\r\nof fear are banished from my mind. I will no longer be bound by\r\nthoughts of fear._"\r\n\r\nI shut my eyes tight and say this when I am going to sleep.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IX\r\n\r\nTHE CONFESSIONAL CLUB\r\n\r\n\r\nIn setting forth the happenings at Roberta Vallis\' party (with their\r\nstartling psychic consequences to Penelope Wells) it is necessary to say\r\na word about the Greenwich Village poet Kendall Brown, since he\r\noriginated the Confessional Club. This remarkable organization grew out\r\nof a tirade against American hypocrisy made by Kendall one night in a\r\nlittle Italian restaurant on Bleecker Street.\r\n\r\nWhat was most needed in this country and in all countries, the one thing\r\nthat alone could redeem mankind, declared Brown, soaring away on red\r\nwine enthusiasm, was truth. "Let us be honest and outspoken about things\r\nas they are, about men and women as they are," he ran on in his\r\ncharmingly plausible way. "We are none of us very important, there isn\'t\r\nmuch difference between saints and sinners--I\'ll argue that point with\r\nany man--_but_ there is one immensely valuable contribution that we can\r\nall make to the general store of life-knowledge, we can speak the exact\r\ntruth about ourselves and our experiences, instead of hiding it. That\r\nwould be a real service to humanity, for this composite truth, assembled\r\nand studied, must lead to wisdom; but men and women are such pitiful\r\ncowards, such cringing toadies to convention. It makes me sick!"\r\n\r\nHe refilled his glass slowly and continued: "Why is our talk stupid--all\r\ntalk, so stupid that we have to get drunk in order to endure life? Why\r\nare we bores--all of us? Because we are afraid to say the essential\r\nthings--what we know. We talk about what we don\'t know, like monkeys,\r\nand call it civilized. By God, I\'d like to start a society for the\r\ndissemination of the truth that everybody knows and nobody tells!"\r\n\r\nThis phrase caught the fancy of Roberta Vallis whose fluttering,\r\nfrivolous soul was appealed to by any line of reasoning that tended to\r\nput saints and sinners on the same level. She made Kendall repeat his\r\nidea and then and there proposed that they adopt it. _A society for the\r\ndissemination of the truth that everybody knows and nobody tells!_\r\nSplendid! They must found this society--immediately. When should they\r\nhave the first meeting?\r\n\r\nIn this casual way the Confessional Club came into being, with no fixed\r\nmembership, no dues or constitution, no regular place or time of\r\nmeeting, and added one more to those amusing (sometimes inspiring)\r\nlittle groups that have flourished in Greenwich Village. It certainly\r\nhad a real idea behind it. "We are loaded with human dynamite. We tell\r\nthe truth that is never told," became the watchword of the society.\r\n\r\nAll of which bears upon the present narrative because Roberta Vallis had\r\narranged to have one of these self-revealing s\xc3\xa9ances as a feature of her\r\nparty; and she insisted that Penelope contribute an emotional\r\nexperience.\r\n\r\n"You _must_ confess something, Pen, my sweet one, in order to be in the\r\nspirit of the evening," she explained with bubbling exuberance, "any\r\nlittle thing. We all do it. Only be careful you don\'t make that\r\narchitect of yours jealous," she teased. "Think up a classy confession,\r\nsomething weird--understand? Don\'t look so darned serious. It\'s only for\r\nfun. You can fake up something, dearie, if you\'re afraid to tell the\r\ntruth. Why, what\'s the matter?"\r\n\r\nPenelope\'s face had changed startlingly, and was now overcast by sombre\r\nmemories--by fears. Why had those lightly spoken words moved her so\r\nstrangely? Afraid to tell the truth! Was she afraid? With sinking heart\r\nshe recalled that message of Seraphine\'s exalted spirit--_Penelope must\r\ncleanse her soul of evil!_\r\n\r\nBut--had she not cleansed her soul already? Had she not confessed the\r\ntruth about her longing for a child? And written it down in her diary\r\nand prayed God to forgive her? Was not that enough? Why should this\r\npressure to confess more be put upon her? Could it be that frivolous,\r\nselfish Roberta Vallis was the unconscious agent of some fateful power\r\nurging Penelope Wells to look into her soul again?\r\n\r\nSuddenly, in a flash of new understanding, Mrs. Wells decided. This was\r\nno longer a trifling incident, but a happening of deep spiritual import.\r\nShe was struggling desperately for health--for happiness. Perhaps this\r\nwas her way of salvation, if she could only bring herself to say the\r\none thing that--that ought to be said. After all, the opinion of these\r\ncareless Bohemians mattered little--it was God\'s opinion that mattered.\r\n\r\n"Do you mind if I bring Seraphine to the party?" Penelope asked with a\r\nfar-away look in her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Of course not--we\'ll be glad to have her."\r\n\r\n"All right, Bobby. I will make a confession. There is something I want\r\nto confess. I don\'t know just the details, but--yes I do, too, it\'s\r\nabout--" she hesitated, but went on with strengthening resolve, "it\'s\r\nabout a trip I made once on a Fall River steamboat."\r\n\r\nRoberta\'s eyes danced at this prospect.\r\n\r\n"Splendid, Pen! We\'ll have yours last--just before the supper."\r\n\r\nAnd so it came about that it was Penelope herself who set into action\r\nforces of the mind or the soul, memories and fears that were to change\r\nher whole future.\r\n\r\nWe need take no account of the other confessions (except one), tinsel or\r\ntawdry fragments from the drift-wood of life, that were offered blithely\r\nby three or four members of the gay company. We are concerned with\r\nPenelope\'s confession, and with this only as it leads up to subsequent\r\ndevelopments of the evening. There was an ominous significance in the\r\nfact that Mrs. Wells made this confession before the man she loved. Why\r\ndid she do that? Why?\r\n\r\nPenelope sat beside a Japanese screen of black and gold on which a\r\nred-tongued dragon coiled its embroidered length and, by the light of a\r\nyellow lantern just above (there was also a tiny blue lantern that\r\nflung down a caressing ray upon her smooth dark hair and adorable\r\nshoulders) she glanced at some loose leaves taken from an old diary.\r\nThen, nerving herself for the effort, she began in a low, appealing\r\ntone, but rather unsteadily:\r\n\r\n"I am going to tell you something that--it\'s very hard for me to speak\r\nof this, but--I want to tell it. I have a feeling that if I tell it I\r\nmay save myself and someone who is dear to me," she looked down in\r\nembarrassment, "from--from a terrible danger. I feel more deeply about\r\nthis because--some of you remember a strange thing that happened four\r\nyears ago when I was present at a meeting of this club."\r\n\r\nThere were murmurs and nods of understanding from several of the guests\r\nwho settled themselves into positions of expectant attention.\r\n\r\n"Are we to have a second prophecy, Mrs. Walters?" inquired Kendall Brown\r\nbriskly of Seraphine, whose haunting eyes kept Penelope in loving\r\nwatchfulness; but the medium made no reply.\r\n\r\n"The second prophecy has already been made, Kendall," Mrs. Wells\r\nanswered gravely. "I have come here tonight knowing that a disaster may\r\nresult from my presence. Seraphine says that a disaster will result,\r\nbut--I don\'t believe it. I can\'t believe it. What harm is there in my\r\ncoming to this party?"\r\n\r\nShe spoke vehemently with increasing agitation and the guests watched\r\nher with fascinated interest.\r\n\r\n"A disaster? Tonight? Extraordinary! What kind of a disaster?"\r\n\r\nSuch were the questions and exclamations called forth by this startling\r\nannouncement, and incredulous glances were addressed to the psychic; but\r\nSeraphine offered no enlightenment. She merely rocked placidly in her\r\nchair.\r\n\r\n"Go on, dear," she said.\r\n\r\nAnd Penelope continued:\r\n\r\n"You know I have been ill since I came back from France. There are\r\nsymptoms in my illness that are--peculiar--distressing. I have horrible\r\nfears that I have to fight all the time. Horrible dreams, one dream in\r\nparticular lately of a thing that happened on a Fall River steamboat."\r\n\r\n"A thing that really happened?" questioned a little gray-haired woman.\r\n\r\n"Yes, it really happened to me during a trip that I made on this boat;\r\nand now, years later, it continues to happen in my dreams. It terrifies\r\nme, tortures me, for the thing was--it was something wrong that I did.\r\nI--I suppose it was a sin."\r\n\r\nA sin!\r\n\r\nThere was a tremor in her voice, a pathetic catch in her breath, almost\r\na sob, as she forced herself to speak these words; then bravely,\r\npleadingly, she lifted her eyes to her beloved.\r\n\r\nOver the gay company there came a surprised and sympathetic hush.\r\nHerrick straightened awkwardly, but never flinched in his loyalty or\r\nfondness--what an ordeal for a lover!--while Penelope paused as if\r\ngathering strength to go on.\r\n\r\n"May I ask if this was before you were married?" queried the poet.\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"After you were married?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. My husband was with me."\r\n\r\nPenelope\'s voice sank almost to a whisper, and the unconscious twining\r\ntogether of her fingers bore witness to her increasing distress.\r\nEveryone in the room felt the poignancy of the moment. If the operation\r\nof soul cleansing involved such stress as this, then even these heedless\r\nmembers of the Confessional Club drew back disapprovingly.\r\n\r\n"Hold on, Pen!" interposed Roberta Vallis good-naturedly, wishing to\r\nrelieve this embarrassment. "You\'re getting all fussed up. I guess you\'d\r\nbetter cut out this story. I don\'t believe it\'s much good anyway. If you\r\nthink there are any sentimental variations on a Fall River steamboat\r\ntheme that we are not fully conversant with, why you\'ve got another\r\nguess coming."\r\n\r\nPenelope wavered and again her dark eyes yearned towards Christopher. It\r\nwas cruelly hard to go on with her story, yet it was almost impossible\r\nnow not to tell it.\r\n\r\n"I _want_ to make this confession," she insisted, strong in her purpose,\r\nyet breaking under womanly weakness. "I must cleanse my soul of--of\r\nevil--mustn\'t I?" her anguished eyes begged comfort of Seraphine.\r\n\r\n"You are right, dear child," the medium answered gently, "but wait a\r\nlittle. Sit over here by me. We have plenty of time. She took her\r\nfriend\'s icy hand in hers and drew her protectingly to a place beside\r\nher on the sofa.\r\n\r\n"To cheer you up, Pen," laughed Bobby, "and create a general diversion,\r\nI\'ll tell a story myself--you\'ll see the kind of confession stuff we\r\ngenerally put over in our little group of unconventional thinkers.\r\nAttention, folks! Harken to the Tale of Dora the Dressmaker! Which\r\nproves that the way of the transgressor, as observed on Manhattan\r\nIsland, is not always so darned hard."\r\n\r\nThen she told her story in the most approved Greenwich Village style,\r\nwith slangy and cynical comments, all of which were received with\r\nchortles of satisfaction by the men and with no very severe disapproval\r\nby the ladies--except Seraphine.\r\n\r\n"Dora was a pretty, frail looking girl--but really as strong as a\r\nhorse," began Bobby gleefully, "one of those tall blondes who can pass\r\noff for aristocrats without being the real thing. She came from a small\r\nSouthern town and had married a man who was no good. He drank and chased\r\nafter women; and, in one of his drunken fits, he was run over on a dark\r\nnight at the railroad crossing--fortunately."\r\n\r\nPenelope stirred uneasily at the memories in her own life conjured up by\r\nthis picture.\r\n\r\n"Dora had the usual small town collection of wedding cut glass and\r\ndoilies, which she put away in the attic, after husband\'s decease; and,\r\nwith them, she also put away all respect and desire for the married\r\nstate. She was through with domesticity and all that it represented, and\r\nmade up her mind to devote the rest of her life to earning as big a\r\nsalary as she could and having the best time possible."\r\n\r\nThe rest of the story was a sordid account of this girl\'s effort to\r\ncombine business with pleasure, as men do, and of her startled discovery\r\none day, just at the moment of her greatest success--she had been\r\noffered the position of head designer in a wholesale dress house with\r\ncoveted trips to Europe--that she was about to become a mother.\r\n\r\nPenelope sighed wearily as she listened. Could she _never_ escape from\r\nthis eternal sex theme?\r\n\r\n"You see," Bobby rattled on, "Dora knew she couldn\'t go to roof gardens\r\nand supper parties alone, and she couldn\'t keep a chap on a string\r\nwithout paying--so she paid. Of course she camouflaged this part of her\r\nlife very daintily, as she did everything else, but going out evenings\r\nwas as important to her as her business ambition was."\r\n\r\nMrs. Wells smiled faintly at the word camouflaged, for she knew better\r\nthan anyone else that this supposed story of a dressmaker was really the\r\nstory of Roberta Vallis herself, thinly disguised.\r\n\r\n"The point is that after years of living exactly like a man," Miss\r\nVallis became a shade more serious here and a note of defiance crept\r\ninto her discourse, "with work and pleasure travelling along side by\r\nside, Dora was called upon to face a situation that would have brought\r\nher gay and prosperous career to a sad and shameful end in any\r\nwell-constructed Sunday School book; but please notice that it did\r\nnothing of the sort in real life. Did she lose her job? She did not. Or\r\nher health or reputation? Nothing like that. After she got over the\r\nfirst shock of surprise Dora decided to go through with the thing, and,\r\nbeing tall and thin, got away with it successfully. No one suspected\r\nthat the illness which kept her away from her work was anything but\r\ninfluenza, and--well, the child didn\'t live," she concluded abruptly as\r\nshe caught Seraphine\'s disapproving glance. "The point is that Dora is\r\ntoday one of the most successful business women in Boston."\r\n\r\nA challenge to outraged virtue was in her tone, and all eyes turned\r\ninstinctively to the psychic who was still rocking placidly.\r\n\r\n"Poor woman!" Seraphine said simply, which seemed to annoy Miss Vallis.\r\n\r\n"Why do you say that? Why is she a poor woman? She has everything she\r\nwants."\r\n\r\n"No! No indeed," was the grave reply. "She has nothing that she really\r\nwants. She has cut herself off from the operation of God\'s love. She is\r\nsurrounded by forces that--Oh!" the medium\'s eyes closed for a moment\r\nand she drew a long breath, "my control tells me these forces of\r\nevil--they will destroy this girl."\r\n\r\nRoberta essayed to answer mockingly, but the words died on her lips, and\r\nthere fell a moment of shivery silence until Kendall Brown broke the\r\nspell.\r\n\r\n"That story of Dora is a precious human document," was the poet\'s\r\nponderous pronouncement. "It is unpleasant, painful, but--what is the\r\nlesson? The lesson is that infinite trouble grows out of our rotten\r\nsqueamishness about sex facts. This girl craved a reasonable amount of\r\npleasure after her work, and she got it. She refused to spend her\r\nevenings alone in her room reading a book. She wanted to dance, to enjoy\r\nthe society of men--their intimate society. That brings us to the oldest\r\nand most resistless force in the world, a blessed force, a God-given\r\nforce upon which all life depends--you know what I mean. And how do we\r\ndeal with this most formidable of forces? Are we grateful for it? Do we\r\nacknowledge its irresistible supremacy? No! We deal with it by\r\npretending that it doesn\'t exist. We say to Friend Dora that, being\r\nunmarried, she has nothing whatever to do with sex attraction, except to\r\nforget it. Does she forget it? She does not. Do the men allow her to\r\nforget it? They do not. And one fine day Friend Dora has a baby and\r\neverybody says horrible, disgraceful! Rubbish! I maintain that the state\r\nshould provide homes and proper care for the children we call\r\nillegitimate! What a word! I say _all_ children are legitimate, all\r\nmothers should be honored, yes, and financially protected. A woman who\r\ngives a child to the nation, regardless of who the father is, renders a\r\ndistinguished service. She is a public benefactor."\r\n\r\n"Hear, hear!" approved several, but the little grey-haired woman\r\nobjected that this meant free love, whereupon Kendall was off again on\r\nhis hobby.\r\n\r\n"Love _is_ free, it always has been and always will be free. If you\r\nchain love down under smug rules you only kill it or distort it. I am\r\nnot arguing against marriage, but against hypocrisy. We may as well\r\nrecognize that sex desire is so strong a force in the world--that--"\r\n\r\nTo all of this Penelope had listened with ill-concealed aversion, now\r\nshe could no longer restrain her impatience. "Ridiculous!" she\r\ninterrupted. "You exasperate me with your talk about the compelling\r\nclaims of oversexed individuals. Let them learn to behave themselves and\r\ncontrol themselves."\r\n\r\n"Mrs. Wells is absolutely right," agreed Captain Herrick quietly, his\r\neyes challenging Brown. "If certain men insist on behaving like\r\norang-outangs in the jungle, then society should treat them as\r\norang-outangs."\r\n\r\nThis incisive statement somewhat jarred the poet\'s self-sufficiency and\r\nhe subsided for the moment, but jealousy is a cunning adversary and the\r\nrival awaited his opportunity for counter-attack.\r\n\r\nAs the discussion proceeded Kendall noticed that one of the loose pages\r\nfrom Penelope\'s diary had fluttered to the floor and, recovering this,\r\nhe glanced at it carelessly, then smiled as he plucked at his yellow\r\nbeard.\r\n\r\n"Excuse me, Mrs. Wells," he said. "I could not help reading a few words.\r\nWon\'t you go on with your confession--please do. It sounds so\r\nwonderfully interesting. See--there--at the bottom!" He pointed to the\r\nlines.\r\n\r\n"Oh!" she murmured as she saw the writing, and two spots of color burned\r\nin her cheeks. "Let me have it--I insist!"\r\n\r\n"Certainly. But do read it to us. This is a real human interest story.\r\n_\'Let me bow my head in shame and humble my spirit in the dust\'_--wasn\'t\r\nthat it?" laughed Kendall maliciously.\r\n\r\nAt this, seeing the frightened look in Penelope\'s eyes, Captain Herrick\r\nstormed in: "You had no right to read those words or repeat them."\r\n\r\n"I am sorry, Mrs. Wells. I meant no offense," apologized the poet,\r\nrealizing that he had gone too far, but the harm was done. Something\r\nunaccountably serious had happened to Penelope Wells. Her face had gone\r\ndeathly white, and Roberta, suddenly sympathetic, hastened to her.\r\n\r\n"It\'s a shame to tease you, dearie. No more confession stuff. Now,\r\nfolks, we\'ll have supper--down in the restaurant. Then we\'ll dance. Come\r\non! Feeling better, Pen? What you need is a cocktail and some\r\nchampagne."\r\n\r\nBut Penelope lay like a stricken creature, her beautiful head limp\r\nagainst the pillow of her chair, her eyes filled with pain.\r\n\r\n"I--I\'ll be all right in a minute, Bobby," she whispered. "Please go\r\ndown now--all of you except Captain Herrick. We\'ll join you--a little\r\nlater. You don\'t mind?" she turned to Herrick who was bending over her\r\nanxiously. Then she said softly: "Don\'t leave me, Chris. I don\'t feel\r\nquite like myself. I\'m a little frightened."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER X\r\n\r\nFAUVETTE\r\n\r\n\r\nThus it happened that Penelope and Captain Herrick did not descend to\r\nthe flower-spread supper room where dancing and good cheer awaited the\r\ngay company, but remained in Roberta\'s black and gold apartment, two\r\nlovers swept along by powers of fate far beyond their control, and now\r\nfacing the greatest emotional moment of their lives.\r\n\r\nThe catastrophe came gradually, yet at the end with startling\r\nsuddenness.\r\n\r\nAt first, when they were alone, Penelope seemed to recover from her\r\ndistress and began to talk naturally and serenely, as if her preceding\r\nagitations were forgotten. She told Christopher that Dr. Owen\'s wise\r\ncounsels had reassured her, and she now felt confident that her bad\r\ndreams and other disturbing symptoms would soon leave her.\r\n\r\n"You see something has conquered all my sadness, all my fears," she\r\nlooked at him shyly.\r\n\r\nFor a moment he sat motionless, drinking in her splendid beauty, then he\r\nleaned towards her impulsively and spoke one word that carried all the\r\ndevotion of his soul: "Penelope!"\r\n\r\n"Dear boy!" she murmured, her voice thrilling, and a moment later he had\r\nclasped her in his arms.\r\n\r\n"You\'re mine! You love me! Thank God!"\r\n\r\nBut she disengaged herself gently, there was something she wished to\r\nsay. She would not deny her love, her great love for him. She realized\r\nthat she had loved him from the first. Her resistance had been part of\r\nher illness--it was not coquetry, he must not think that. Now her eyes\r\nwere opened and her heart was singing with joy. She was the happiest\r\nwoman in the world at the thought that she was to be his wife.\r\n\r\n"My darling! How I love you!" exclaimed Christopher, drawing her towards\r\nhim, his lips seeking hers.\r\n\r\n"No--no," Penelope\'s voice was so serious, so full of alarm that her\r\nlover instantly obeyed. He drew away from her with a hurt, puzzled\r\nexpression in his eyes. Very gravely Penelope went on. "I love you, too,\r\nmy darling, but I must ask you to make me a solemn promise. I shall be\r\nmost unhappy if you refuse. I want you to promise not to kiss\r\nme,--as--as lovers kiss, passionately, ardently, until after we are\r\nmarried."\r\n\r\n"But, Pen, you--can\'t mean that seriously?"\r\n\r\nWith a wistful little smile she assured him that she did mean it most\r\nseriously.\r\n\r\nIn vain he protested. "But why? It\'s so absurd! Why shouldn\'t I kiss you\r\nwhen I love you better than anything in the world."\r\n\r\n"Chris, please, _please_ don\'t talk like that. You must trust me and do\r\nwhat I ask. You must, dear!"\r\n\r\nA pathetic earnestness in her tone and a strange look in her eyes made\r\nChristopher forget his privileges, and he made the promise.\r\n\r\n"Thank you, dear. Now I must tell you something else," she went on. "I\r\nmust explain why I was so disturbed when Kendall Brown read those words\r\nfrom my diary. I _must_ tell you what they meant."\r\n\r\nBut a masterful gesture from Herrick stopped her. He did not wish to\r\nknow anything about this. He trusted her entirely, he approved of her\r\nentirely, they must never speak of these old sad things again.\r\n\r\nTears of gratitude suddenly filled her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Take this, dear, it belonged to my mother," she said fondly and gave\r\nhim a circlet of twisted dolphins and he put it on his finger. Then he\r\ngave her a brown seal ring, engraved with old Armenian characters.\r\n\r\n"I got it in Constantinople, Pen. It\'s a talisman. It will bring us\r\nluck."\r\n\r\nThey talked on, forgetful of the supper party downstairs, until a waiter\r\ncame with cocktails and champagne that Roberta had sent up, but Penelope\r\nwould have none of these, saying that her love was too great to need\r\nstimulation.\r\n\r\n"I must drink to your health, dear," said Herrick, and pouring out the\r\nbubbling liquid, he offered her a glass, but she shook her head.\r\n\r\n"No? Not even a sip? All right, sweetheart. I\'ll pledge you the finest\r\ntoast in the world," he lifted his goblet. "My love! My wife!"\r\n\r\nAs Christopher set down his glass and turned to clasp his beloved in his\r\narms, he realized that there was a curious change in her face, a subtle,\r\nan almost indistinguishable change--the sweet radiance had gone. It was\r\nthe word _wife_ that had stabbed Penelope with unforgettable memories\r\nand brought back her impulse to confess. Once more she tried to tell the\r\nstory of that tragic steamboat, but Christopher firmly and\r\ngood-naturedly refused to listen. Whatever she had done, her life had\r\nbeen a hundred times finer and nobler than his. Not that he had any\r\ngreat burden on his conscience, but--well--With a chivalrous idea of\r\nbalancing scores, he mentioned that there had been one or two things\r\nthat--er--and his embarrassment grew.\r\n\r\nPenelope\'s eyes caressed him. "I\'m so glad, Chris, if there is something\r\nfor me to forgive. Is it--is it a woman story?"\r\n\r\n"Well, yes."\r\n\r\n"Tell me. I won\'t misjudge you, dear," she spoke confidently, although a\r\nshadow of pain flitted across her face. Then he began to tell of a hotel\r\nflirtation--a young woman he had met one night in Philadelphia. She\r\nwasn\'t so very pretty, but--her husband had treated her like the devil\r\nand--she was very unhappy and--they had rather a mad time together.\r\n\r\nChristopher spoke in brief, business-like sentence\'s as if desiring to\r\nget through with a painful duty, but Penelope pressed him for details.\r\n\r\n"What was her name--her first name?"\r\n\r\n"Katherine."\r\n\r\n"Did you have supper with her--did she drink?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Was she--how shall I say it?--an alluring woman? Did she have a pretty\r\nfigure?"\r\n\r\nThe soldier looked at his sweetheart in surprise and, without answering,\r\nhe struck a match and meditatively followed the yellow flame as it\r\nconsumed the wood. Penelope watched his well-shaped, well-kept hands.\r\n\r\n"Did she?"\r\n\r\n"I--I suppose so. What difference does that make? Do you mind if I\r\nsmoke?"\r\n\r\n"Of course not." She took a cigarette from his silver case. "I\'ll have\r\none with you--from the same match! _Voil\xc3\xa0!_" She inhaled deeply and blew\r\nout a grey cloud. "Tell me more about Katherine."\r\n\r\nHis frown deepened.\r\n\r\n"Poor woman! She was reckless. I am sure she had never done a thing like\r\nthis before. I hadn\'t either. I don\'t mean that I\'ve been an angel, Pen,\r\nbut--" he paused, then, with a flash of self-justification: "I give you\r\nmy word of honor, in the main I have not done that sort of thing."\r\n\r\nShe caught his hand impulsively. "I know you haven\'t. I\'m so glad. Now I\r\n_will_ drink to--to you." She rose and stood before him, a lithe young\r\ncreature vibrant with life. "Touch your glass to mine. My dear boy! My\r\nChristopher!"\r\n\r\nThey drank together.\r\n\r\nThen Herrick resumed his explanation. "I must tell you a little more,\r\ndarling. You see I was sorry for this woman, her story was so pathetic.\r\nI wanted to help her, if I could, not to harm her. So I suggested that\r\nwe each make a pledge to the other--"\r\n\r\nHe was intensely in earnest, but Penelope\'s eyes were now dancing in\r\nmockery.\r\n\r\n"Oh you reformer! You ridiculous boy!" she laughed.\r\n\r\n"It\'s true, I assure you."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t believe it. What was the pledge? No, don\'t tell me! Tell me if\r\nyou kept it."\r\n\r\nHe moved uneasily under her searching gaze, but did not answer.\r\n\r\n"Did you keep your pledge?" she insisted.\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"For how long?"\r\n\r\nHe shifted again uncomfortably.\r\n\r\n"For several months," he began, "but I must admit--"\r\n\r\n"No, no!" she interrupted with a swift emotional change. "Don\'t admit\r\nanything. It was wicked of me to mock you. Come, we will drink to the\r\nlady in Philadelphia! Fill the glasses! To Katherine! And poor, weak\r\nhuman nature! Katherine! And all our good resolutions!"\r\n\r\nPen\'s eyes teased her lover with a gay _diablerie_ as she slowly emptied\r\nher glass, and Herrick\'s heart quickened at the realization that this\r\nbeautiful woman belonged to him--she belonged to him. At the same time\r\nhe was conscious of a vague uneasiness under the increasing allurement\r\nof her glances. Were there ever such eyes in the world? Was there ever\r\nsuch a woman? Adorable as a saint, dangerous as a siren!\r\n\r\n"There is one pledge I will never break, Pen," he said tenderly. "I\'ll\r\nnever fail to do every possible thing to make you happy."\r\n\r\n"Will you take me back to Paris, Chris? I want to spend a whole year in\r\nParis with you. We\'ll go to fine hotels along the Champs \xc3\x89lys\xc3\xa9es, we\'ll\r\nprowl through those queer places in Montmartre, remember? and once\r\nyou\'ll take me to a students\' ball, won\'t you, dear? I\'d love to dance\r\nat a students\' ball--_with you_!" Her eyes burned on him under\r\nfluttering black lashes--such long curling lashes! "Let\'s drink to\r\nParis--_toi et moi, tous les deux ensemble, pas?_ Come!" She snatched up\r\nher glass again and emptied it quickly.\r\n\r\nA spirit of wild gaiety and abandon had caught Penelope--there was no\r\nrestraining her. They must sit on the divan under that dull blue light,\r\nand talk of their love--their wonderful love that had swept aside all\r\nbarriers--while she smoked another cigarette. Christopher forgot to be\r\nafraid--he, too, was young! _Vive la joie!_\r\n\r\nShe nestled close to him against the pillows and, as they talked in low\r\ntones, he drew her closer, breathing the perfume of her hair. She caught\r\nhis hand and clung to it, then slowly, restlessly, her fingers moved\r\nalong his arm.\r\n\r\n"My love! My love!" she whispered.\r\n\r\n"Sweetheart!" he looked deep into her soul, his heart pounding\r\nfuriously.\r\n\r\n"It was horrid of me, Chris, to make you promise--that," she bent close\r\noffering him her lips.\r\n\r\n"Promise what?" he asked unsteadily.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Chris," she whispered and her soft form seemed to envelope him. "I\r\nam yours, yours!"\r\n\r\nThen silence fell in the room while she pressed her eager mouth to his.\r\n\r\n"Penelope!" he thrilled deliriously.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t call me Penelope. It\'s so prim and old fashioned. I told you what\r\nto call me--Fauvette. That\'s the name I like. Fauvette! I am your\r\nFauvette. Say it."\r\n\r\nHer eyes consumed him.\r\n\r\nChristopher realized his danger, but he was powerless against the spell\r\nof her beauty.\r\n\r\n"My Fauvette!" he caught her in his arms.\r\n\r\n"Ah! Ah! _Mon cheri!_ Wait!" Swiftly she turned off the lights, then\r\ndarted back to him in the darkness.\r\n\r\nAt this moment of supreme crisis the door of the apartment opened slowly\r\nand, as the light streamed in, a figure entered that came like a gentle\r\nradiance. It was Seraphine.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XI\r\n\r\nTHE EVIL SPIRIT\r\n\r\n\r\nPenelope sprang up from the divan panting with anger. Her hair was\r\ndishevelled. Her bare shoulders gleamed in the shadows. She glared at\r\nSeraphine.\r\n\r\n"How dare you come in here?" she demanded insolently. "What do you want\r\nhere?"\r\n\r\nWith a smile of infinite compassion Mrs. Walters approached like a\r\nloving mother. "My child! My dear child!" she said tenderly.\r\n\r\nBut the mad young creature repulsed her. "No, no! I hate you! Go away!"\r\n\r\nThe newcomer turned reassuringly to Captain Herrick. "I am Penelope\'s\r\nfriend--Seraphine."\r\n\r\n"Ha! Seraphine! I am Fauvette! What do I care for you?" The frantic one\r\nsnapped her fingers at the other woman.\r\n\r\n"Penelope!" pleaded Christopher, shocked at her violence.\r\n\r\nShe turned on him in fury. "You fool! You wouldn\'t take the chance I\r\noffered you."\r\n\r\n"I will quiet her," said Mrs. Walters to Herrick. "Don\'t be alarmed."\r\n\r\n"You can\'t quiet me. I\'ll say anything I damn please. Go on, quiet me!\r\nQuiet Fauvette! I\'d like to see you do it. Ha, ha, ha!" Her wild\r\nlaughter rang through the apartment.\r\n\r\nChristopher\'s face was tense with alarm and distress. "What can I do?\r\nWhat is the matter with her?" he appealed to Seraphine.\r\n\r\n"She is ill. She is not herself," was the grave reply. "I\'ll call Dr.\r\nOwen; I\'ll tell him to come at once."\r\n\r\nHe hurried out of the room and the two women faced each other.\r\n\r\nFauvette sank back on the divan and lay there in sullen defiance. "Now\r\nwe\'re alone--you and I. What are you going to do about it?" was her\r\nharsh challenge.\r\n\r\nThe psychic did not answer, but her lips moved as if in prayer; then she\r\nspoke sternly, her deep eyes widening: "I see your scarlet lights, your\r\nsinister face."\r\n\r\nFrom the shadowy corner Fauvette sneered: "I see your soft, sentimental\r\nChristmas card face. I\'m not afraid of you. I laugh at you." And peals\r\nof shrill, almost satanic, laughter rang through the room.\r\n\r\nSeraphine advanced slowly, holding out her hands.\r\n\r\n"I know your ways, creature of darkness. I command you to leave this\r\npure body that you would defile."\r\n\r\nAnd fierce the answer came: "No! Damn you! You are not strong enough to\r\ndrive me out."\r\n\r\n"Think of the tortures you are preparing for yourself."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you worry about my tortures."\r\n\r\n"Have pity on Penelope. It will be counted in your favor."\r\n\r\nThere were snarling throat-sounds, then these menacing words: "No! I\'m\r\ngoing to put Penelope out of business."\r\n\r\n"Where is Penelope now?"\r\n\r\n"She is sleeping. Poor nut!"\r\n\r\n"She knows nothing about Fauvette?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing."\r\n\r\n"She remembers nothing that Fauvette says?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing."\r\n\r\nThere was a long silence in the darkened room while Seraphine prayed.\r\n\r\n"You know very well that Dr. Leroy can drive you out," she said\r\npresently.\r\n\r\n"He can\'t do it. Let him try. Nobody can drive me out. Besides, you\r\nwon\'t get Dr. Leroy."\r\n\r\n"Why not?"\r\n\r\n"This other doctor won\'t have him."\r\n\r\n"Dr. Owen?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. I know damned well how to fix him. I\'ll tell him some things that\r\nwill make him sit up and take notice."\r\n\r\n"How do you mean you will fix him?"\r\n\r\n"Never mind. You\'ll see. If I can\'t have Herrick, Penelope is _never_\r\ngoing to have him."\r\n\r\nThe medium closed her eyes and seemed to listen. "You mean Penelope will\r\nnever have him because of something you are going to tell Dr.\r\nOwen--something about--about chemistry?" she groped for the word.\r\n\r\n"Ye-es," unwillingly.\r\n\r\n"Dr. Owen will not believe you."\r\n\r\n"He _will_ believe me."\r\n\r\n"No!" declared Seraphine dreamily. "There are greater powers than you\r\nfighting for Penelope."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XII\r\n\r\nX K C\r\n\r\n\r\nWe come now to what has been regarded by some authorities as the most\r\nremarkable feature in the case of Penelope Wells, a development almost\r\nwithout parallel in the records of abnormal psychology. All books on\r\nthis subject record instances of jealousy or hostility between two\r\nrecurring personalities in the same individual. A woman in one\r\npersonality writes a letter that humiliates her in another personality.\r\nA little girl eats a certain article of food while in one personality\r\nsimply because she knows that her other personality hates that\r\nparticular food. And so on. It almost never occurs, however, that an\r\nevil personality will commit an act or a crime that is abhorrent to the\r\nindividual\'s fundamental nature. Neither through hypnotism nor through\r\nany manifestation of a dual nature will a person become a thief or a\r\nmurderer unless there is really in that person a latent tendency towards\r\nstealing or killing. There is always some germ of Mr. Hyde\'s\r\nbloodthirstiness in the benevolence of Dr. Jekyll.\r\n\r\nBut Penelope Wells, under the domination of her Fauvette personality,\r\nnow entered upon a course that was certain to bring disgrace and sorrow\r\nupon a man she loved with all her heart, a man for whom she had risked\r\nher life on the battle field. Here is one of those mysteries that will\r\nnot be cleared up until we better understand these strange and\r\ndistressing phenomena of the sick brain or the sick soul.\r\n\r\nIn presenting this development it must be mentioned that Dr. William\r\nOwen was not only a specialist on nervous diseases but a chemist of wide\r\nreputation in the field of laboratory investigation. For a year and a\r\nhalf preceding the end of the war he had held a major\'s commission in\r\nthe army and had spent much time in a government research laboratory,\r\nstudying poison gases.\r\n\r\nIn August, 1918, he had discovered a toxic product of extraordinary\r\nvirulence, not a gas, but a tasteless and odorless liquid containing\r\nharmful bacteria. These bacteria showed great resistance against heat\r\nand cold and were able to propagate and disseminate themselves with\r\nincredible rapidity through living creatures, rats, earth worms, birds,\r\ncattle, dogs, fleas, that might feed upon them or come in contact with\r\nthem. The deadliness of this product was so great, as appeared from\r\nlaboratory tests, that it was believed all human life might be\r\nexterminated in a region intensively inoculated (from airplanes or guns)\r\nwith the liquid. This was only a possibility, but it was an enormously\r\nimportant possibility.\r\n\r\nA report on this formidable discovery had been prepared by Dr. Owen for\r\nthe Washington authorities with such extreme secrecy that the chemical\r\nformula for the liquid had been indicated simply by the letters X K C,\r\nthe product being referred to as X K C liquid. Moreover, the only\r\nperson, except Dr. Owen, in possession of the full facts touching this\r\ndiscovery was Captain Herrick who had assisted the doctor in his\r\ninvestigations. Herrick had been cautioned to guard this secret as he\r\nwould his life, since there was involved in it nothing less than the\r\npossibility of preventing future wars through the power of its potential\r\nterribleness.\r\n\r\nThe bearing of all this upon our narrative was presently made clear as\r\nthe conflict developed between tortured Penelope and the psychic in\r\nRoberta Vallis\' studio.\r\n\r\nFor some moments the two women eyed each other in hostile silence, which\r\nwas broken presently by the sound of footsteps in the hall.\r\n\r\n"Ah! Here comes your doctor!" mocked the fair creature on the divan.\r\n"Now watch Fauvette!"\r\n\r\nThe door opened and Dr. Owen, followed by Herrick, both grave-faced,\r\nentered the apartment.\r\n\r\nChristopher turned anxiously to Seraphine: "What has happened? Is she\r\nbetter?"\r\n\r\nMrs. Walters shook her head, but when the young officer looked at\r\nPenelope his fears were lessened, for she (was it from dissimulation or\r\nweariness?) gave no indication of her recent frenzy, but seemed to be\r\nresting peacefully against the cushions.\r\n\r\n"Let\'s have a little more light here," said Dr. Owen, and he turned on\r\nthe electrics. "I\'m afraid you have overtaxed your strength, Mrs.\r\nWells."\r\n\r\nPenelope answered gently with perfect self-possession: "I\'m afraid I\r\nhave, doctor, I\'m sorry to give you so much trouble." And she smiled\r\nsweetly at Herrick.\r\n\r\nThe specialist drew up a chair and studied his patient thoughtfully.\r\nThere was an added austerity in his usual professional manner.\r\n\r\n"Captain Herrick tells me that you made some rather strange remarks just\r\nnow?" he said tentatively.\r\n\r\nMrs. Wells met him with a look of half amused understanding.\r\n\r\n"Did I?" she answered carelessly, and as she spoke she took up a pencil\r\nand made formless scrawls on a sheet of paper. "I suppose he refers to\r\nmy calling him a fool. It is a little unusual, isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\nShe laughed in a mirthless way.\r\n\r\n"Why did you do it?"\r\n\r\n"I haven\'t any idea."\r\n\r\n"And you spoke unkindly to Seraphine? That isn\'t like you."\r\n\r\n"No? How do you know what I am like?" she answered quickly, her hand\r\nstill fidgeting with the pencil.\r\n\r\nDr. Owen observed her attentively and did not speak for some moments.\r\nSeraphine and Christopher drew their chairs nearer, as if they knew that\r\nthe tension of restraint was about to break.\r\n\r\n"You must realize that you have been under a great strain, Mrs. Wells,"\r\nresumed the doctor, "and you are tired--you are very tired."\r\n\r\nHer answer came dreamily, absent-mindedly: "Yes, I am tired," and, as\r\nshe spoke, Penelope\'s tragic eyes closed wearily. But her fingers still\r\nclutched the pencil and continued to move it over the white sheet.\r\n\r\n"Look!" whispered Seraphine, "she is making letters upside down."\r\n\r\n"That\'s queer!" nodded Owen. "She is writing backwards--from right to\r\nleft. Hello!" He started in surprise as he saw, on bending closer, that\r\nPenelope had covered the sheet with large printed letters--X--K--C,\r\nwritten over and over again.\r\n\r\nGreatly disturbed, Dr. Owen roused his patient and questioned her about\r\nthis; but she insisted that she had no idea what she had written or what\r\nthe letters meant. A little later, however, she acknowledged that this\r\nwas not true.\r\n\r\n"What! You did know what you wrote?" the scientist demanded. His whole\r\nmanner had changed. His eyes were cold and accusing. He was no longer a\r\nsympathetic physician tactful towards the whims of a pretty woman, but a\r\nmajor in the United States Army defending the interests of his country.\r\n\r\n"This is a very serious matter, Mrs. Wells, please understand that. You\r\ntold me just now that you did not know what you wrote on the sheet of\r\npaper?"\r\n\r\nPenelope faced him scornfully. Her cheeks were flushed. Her bosom\r\nheaved.\r\n\r\n"I said that, but it wasn\'t true. I lied to you. I did know what I\r\nwrote."\r\n\r\n"You know what those letters mean?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I do!"\r\n\r\n"What do they mean?"\r\n\r\n"They mean some kind of poison stuff that you have made for the army."\r\n\r\n"How do you know that?"\r\n\r\n"He told me," she turned to Captain Herrick who had listened in dumb\r\nbewilderment.\r\n\r\n"How can you say such a thing?" Chris protested.\r\n\r\n"Because it\'s true," she flung the words at him defiantly.\r\n\r\nThe young officer went close to her and looked searchingly into her\r\neyes.\r\n\r\n"Think what you are saying," he begged. "Remember what this means.\r\nRemember that--"\r\n\r\nShe cut in viciously: "You shut up! I have no more use for you. I tell\r\nyou it\'s true."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t believe her, doctor," interposed Seraphine: "She is not\r\nresponsible for what she says."\r\n\r\n"I am responsible. I know exactly what I am saying."\r\n\r\n"It is not true, sir," put in Captain Herrick. "May I add that--"\r\n\r\n"Wait! Why are you confessing this, Mrs. Wells?"\r\n\r\nLike a fury Fauvette glared at Christopher.\r\n\r\n"Because he turned me down. I\'m sore on him. He\'s not on the level."\r\n\r\n"Not on the level? Are you speaking of him as a lover or an officer?"\r\n\r\n"Both ways. He\'s not on the level at all."\r\n\r\n"Oh, Penelope!" grieved the heartbroken lover.\r\n\r\nShe eyed him scornfully. "You needn\'t Penelope me! I said I have no use\r\nfor you. A Sunday school sweetheart! Ha! I\'ll tell you something else,\r\ndoctor, I\'m not the only one who knows about your X K C stuff."\r\n\r\n"Mrs. Wells," Dr. Owen spoke slowly, "are you deliberately accusing\r\nCaptain Herrick of disloyalty?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I am."\r\n\r\nHerrick stiffened under this insult, white-faced, but he did not speak.\r\n\r\n"He meant to sell this information--for money," she added.\r\n\r\n"My God!" breathed Christopher.\r\n\r\n"Captain Herrick told you this?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, he did. He said we would go abroad and live together--like\r\nmillionaires. You did! You know damned well you did," she almost\r\nscreamed the words at Herrick, then she sank back on the divan\r\nexhausted, and lay still, her eyes closed.\r\n\r\nThe doctor\'s face was ominously set as he turned to his young friend.\r\n\r\n"Chris, my boy, I need not tell you that I cannot believe this monstrous\r\naccusation. At the same time, I saw Mrs. Wells write down those letters\r\nthat are only known to you and to me. I saw that with my own eyes--you\r\nsaw it, too."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"And you heard what she said?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"Under the circumstances, as your superior officer, I don\'t see how I\r\nhave any choice except to--"\r\n\r\nHere Mrs. Walters interrupted: "May I speak? It is still possible to\r\navert a great disaster."\r\n\r\nThe doctor shook his head. "You have heard Mrs. Wells\' confession. No\r\npower on earth can prevent an investigation of this," he declared with\r\nmilitary finality.\r\n\r\nSeraphine\'s lips moved in silent prayer. Her face was transfigured as\r\nher eyes fell tenderly upon the white-faced, tortured sleeper.\r\n\r\n"No power on earth, but--God can prevent it," she murmured and moved\r\nnearer to Penelope whose face was convulsed as if by a terrifying dream.\r\nThen, with hands extended over the beautiful figure, the psychic prayed\r\naloud, while Herrick and the doctor, caught by the power of her faith,\r\nlooked on in wondering silence.\r\n\r\n_"God of love, let Thine infinite power descend upon this Thy tortured\r\nchild and drive out all evil and wickedness from her. Open the eyes of\r\nthese men so that they may understand and be merciful. Oh, God, grant us\r\na sign! Let Thy light descend upon us."_\r\n\r\nCaptain Herrick has always maintained that at this moment, as he watched\r\nhis beloved, his heart clutched with horrible forebodings, he distinctly\r\n_saw_ (Dr. Owen did not see this) a faint stream of bluish radiance\r\nplaying over her from the direction of Seraphine, and enveloping her. It\r\nis certain that Penelope\'s face immediately became peaceful and the\r\nconvulsive twitchings that had shaken her body ceased.\r\n\r\n"Look!" marvelled Christopher. "She is smiling in her sleep."\r\n\r\nSeraphine turned to Dr. Owen, with radiant countenance.\r\n\r\n"It is God\'s sign. Come! Penelope will awaken soon and must find\r\nherself alone with her lover. It will be the real Penelope. You will\r\nsee. Let us draw back into the shadows. You stay near her," she motioned\r\nto Herrick, then turned down the lights except a yellow-shaded lamp near\r\nthe sleeper.\r\n\r\nAnd, presently, watching with breathless interest, these three saw\r\nPenelope stir naturally and open her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Why, how strange!" she exclaimed. "I must have gone to sleep. Why did\r\nyou let me go to sleep, Chris?" she questioned her lover, with bright,\r\nhappy eyes in which there was no trace of her recent perturbations of\r\nspirit.\r\n\r\n"It\'s all right, Pen," he said reassuringly. "You were a little--a\r\nlittle faint, I guess."\r\n\r\nShe held out her hand lovingly and beckoned him to her side.\r\n\r\n"Sit by me here. I had such a horrible dream. I\'m so glad to see you,\r\ndear. I\'m so glad to be awake. Oh!" She started up in embarrassment as\r\nshe saw that her dress was disarranged. "What\'s the matter with my\r\ndress? What did I do? What has happened? Tell me. You must tell me," she\r\nbegged in confusion.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t worry, sweetheart," he soothed her. "It was the excitement of all\r\nthat talk--that ass of a poet."\r\n\r\nPenelope passed her hand over her eyes in a troubled effort to remember.\r\nIt was pathetic to see her groping backwards through a daze of confused\r\nimpressions. The last clear thing in her mind was exchanging rings with\r\nher lover. How long had they been here? What time was it? What must\r\nRoberta think of them, staying up in her apartment all alone?\r\n\r\nChristopher assured her that what Roberta thought (she and her gay\r\nfriends were still dancing downstairs) was the very least of his\r\npreoccupations, and he was planning to turn his sweetheart\'s thoughts\r\ninto a different channel when Seraphine came forward out of the shadows\r\nfollowed by Dr. Owen.\r\n\r\n"Why, Seraphine!" exclaimed Penelope in astonishment. "Where did you\r\ncome from? And Dr. Owen?"\r\n\r\nSeraphine greeted her friend lovingly and kissed her, but there was\r\nunconcealed anxiety in her voice and manner.\r\n\r\n"Dear child, something very serious has happened. You were ill and--Dr.\r\nOwen came to help you. He wants to ask you some questions."\r\n\r\n"Yes?" replied Penelope, her face paling.\r\n\r\nThen the doctor, with scarcely any prelude and with almost brutal\r\ndirectness, said: "Mrs. Wells, I want you to tell me why you accused\r\nCaptain Herrick of disloyalty."\r\n\r\nPoor Penelope! She could only gasp for breath and turn whiter still.\r\nAccuse her dear Christopher whom she loved and honored above all men of\r\nany wrong or baseness! God in heaven! If she had done this she wanted to\r\ndie.\r\n\r\n"I--I didn\'t," she stammered. "I couldn\'t do such a thing."\r\n\r\nBut the doctor was relentless. "If what you said to me a few minutes ago\r\nis true," he went on coldly, "it will be my duty, as a major in the\r\nUnited States Army, to order the arrest of Captain Herrick for treason\r\nagainst the government."\r\n\r\nAt this startling assertion Penelope fell back as if struck down by a\r\nmortal wound, and lay still on the couch, a pitiful crumpled figure. The\r\nothers gathered around her apprehensively.\r\n\r\n"You were very harsh, sir," reproached Herrick.\r\n\r\n"It was the best thing for you and for Mrs. Wells," answered Dr. Owen,\r\nbending over his patient, who lay there with dark-circled eyes closed,\r\noblivious to her surroundings. "At least I have no doubt as to her\r\nsincerity, I mean as to the genuineness of this shock."\r\n\r\nThe doctor was sorely perplexed as he faced this situation. What was his\r\nduty? Here was a definite charge of extreme gravity made against a young\r\nman of unimpeachable character by the very last person in the world who\r\nwould naturally make such an accusation, that is the woman who loved\r\nhim. Must he assume that the patient\'s mind was affected? The idea that\r\nChristopher Herrick could be capable of a treasonable act was altogether\r\npreposterous, a thing that Owen rejected indignantly, yet there was the\r\nevidence of his own senses. Penelope had written those letters that were\r\nnot known to anyone except Herrick and himself? And she knew what they\r\nmeant. _How did she know?_ Was it possible Chris had told her?\r\n\r\nBut, even so, why had Penelope betrayed and denounced her lover?\r\n\r\nAt this moment Seraphine turned to the doctor in gentle appeal.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you see what the explanation is?" she whispered with eloquent\r\neyes.\r\n\r\n"It seems to be a case of dual personality," he answered.\r\n\r\n"It\'s more than that, doctor."\r\n\r\nThe scientist moved impatiently, then, remembering what he had seen at\r\nSeraphine\'s apartment, and the recovery of his wife\'s jewels, he\r\nsoftened the skepticism of his tone.\r\n\r\n"You think it is one of those cases you told me about of--possession?\r\nThat\'s absurd!"\r\n\r\n"Why is it absurd? Doesn\'t the Bible speak of possession by evil\r\nspirits? Is the Bible absurd? Did not Christ cast out evil spirits?"\r\n\r\n"I suppose so, but--times have changed."\r\n\r\n"Not in the spirit world. Oh no!"\r\n\r\n"Anyway, the thing is not capable of proof."\r\n\r\n"Yes, it is, if you will not shut your mind against the evidence. Oh,"\r\nshe pleaded, "if you only had faith enough to let Dr. Leroy treat\r\nPenelope! What harm could it do? You say yourself this is a case of dual\r\npersonality. Do you know how to cure that trouble? Do you?" she\r\ninsisted.\r\n\r\n"Perhaps not," he admitted, "but--that is not the only thing. It must be\r\nmade clear to me how Mrs. Wells came into possession of an extremely\r\nprecious secret of the war department."\r\n\r\nThe medium\'s face shone with an inspired light as she answered: "That is\r\nthe work of an evil entity, doctor, I know what I am saying. You _must_\r\nlet me prove it. Look at that young woman--honored by all the world."\r\nShe pointed to Penelope resting peacefully. "Think what she has done!\r\nThink of her bravery, her kindness, her sincerity. Look at Captain\r\nHerrick--the soul of honor! You know him, doctor, I tell you it is\r\nimpossible that these two are guilty of treason."\r\n\r\nDr. Owen could not resist the power of this appeal. He was deeply moved\r\nin spite of himself. "You say you can prove that Mrs. Wells is possessed\r\nby an evil spirit? How can you prove it?"\r\n\r\n"Give me permission to take Penelope to Dr. Leroy\'s hospital for a few\r\ndays--will you?" she begged. "You will see for yourself that I am\r\nright."\r\n\r\n"See for myself? Great heavens! You don\'t mean to tell me that--?" the\r\ndoctor stopped short before the vivid memory of those white shapes that\r\nthis woman once before had so strangely evoked.\r\n\r\nSeraphine stood silent in deep concentration, then she said slowly:\r\n"Yes, that is what I mean. I believe that God, for His great purposes,\r\nwill let you _see_ this evil spirit."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\nTERROR\r\n\r\n\r\n(_Statement by Seraphine_)\r\n\r\nAt the request of Dr. William Owen I am writing this account of what\r\nhappened last night after Roberta Vallis\' party. What happened during\r\nthe party was terrible enough, but what came later, after the doctor and\r\nthe guests had gone and we three women were alone together, Roberta and\r\nPenelope and I, was infinitely worse.\r\n\r\nI am told to put down details of the night, as far as I can remember\r\nthem, so that these may be kept in the records of the American Occult\r\nSociety. There never was a clearer case of an evil spirit working\r\ndestructively against a living person, although other noble souls have\r\nfaced a similar ordeal, especially returned soldiers and Red Cross\r\nworkers, and some have not survived it. Remember those pitiful,\r\nunaccountable suicides of our bravest and our fairest. In every case\r\n_there was a reason_!\r\n\r\nPenelope did not go home after the party, she was in no condition to do\r\nso, but stayed at Roberta\'s, and I stayed with her, at least I promised\r\nto stay, for I knew she needed me. I knew that the greatest danger was\r\nstill threatening her.\r\n\r\nWhen the guests had gone we took off our things (Roberta let me have her\r\nlittle spare room on the mezzanine floor and she gave Penelope her own\r\nbig bedroom with the old French furniture), then a Russian singer, a\r\ntall blond, Margaret G----, came in from the next apartment and we\r\ntalked for a long time. Pen and Bobby smoke cigarettes and drank\r\ncordials; they drank in a nervous, hysterical way, as if they felt they\r\n_must_ drink, and, strangely enough, the more they drank the more\r\nintensely sober they became. _I understood this!_\r\n\r\nSuch talk! Miss Gordon had just returned to America by way of Tokio. She\r\nhad been in London, Paris, Petrograd, Cairo; and, everywhere, as a\r\nresult of the war, she said, she found a mad carnival of recklessness\r\nand extravagance. Everywhere the old standards of decency and honor had\r\nbeen set aside, greed and lust were rampant, the whole human race seemed\r\nto be swept as with a mighty tide, by three fierce desires--for money,\r\nfor pleasure, for sensuality. And God had been forgotten!\r\n\r\nI, who know how hideously true this is, tried to show these women _why_\r\nit is true, especially Penelope, whose eyes were burning dangerously,\r\nbut they were not interested in my moralizing. "Let us eat, drink and be\r\nmerry, for tomorrow we die," mocked Margaret G----, emptying her glass,\r\nand Roberta joined her, while Penelope hesitated.\r\n\r\n"Wait! For God\'s sake, wait!" I caught the poor child\'s arm and the\r\nwine spilled over the carpet. Never shall I forget the look in her eyes\r\nas she drew back her head and faced me. I realized that the powers of\r\nevil were striving again for the soul of Penelope Wells. Poor, tortured\r\nchild!\r\n\r\n"Why shouldn\'t we eat, drink and be merry?" she demanded boldly, and I\r\nwas silent.\r\n\r\nHow could I explain to this dear, misguided one that, even as those\r\nrollicking words were spoken, I felt the clutch of a cold foreboding\r\nthat I know only too well.\r\n\r\n_For tomorrow we die!_\r\n\r\nThe Russian singer presently withdrew as if she were annoyed at\r\nsomething, saying to Roberta that she would see her later. It seems they\r\nhad arranged that Roberta should pass the night in Margaret G----\'s\r\napartment so that Penelope might have the large bedroom.\r\n\r\nIt was now after two o\'clock and I suggested that we all needed sleep,\r\nmy thought being for Penelope; but she was aggressively awake, and\r\nRoberta, as if bent on further excitement, started a new subject that\r\ncame like a challenge to me. She began innocently enough by putting her\r\narm around Penelope, as she sat on the bedside between the draped\r\ncurtains--I never saw her so beautiful--and saying sweetly: "You don\'t\r\nknow how terribly I\'m going to miss you, Pen, when you get married."\r\n\r\nMarried! That word, so full of exquisite sentiment, seemed to stir only\r\nwhat was evil in Penelope. Her face hardened, her eyes narrowed\r\ncynically.\r\n\r\n"Good old Bobby! I\'m not so sure that I shall marry at all. I\'m a\r\nlittle fed up with this holy matrimony stuff. Perhaps I want my freedom\r\njust as much as you do."\r\n\r\nFor a moment I caught her steady defiant gaze, then her eyes dropped and\r\nshifted. I knew that Penelope was gone.\r\n\r\nAfter this outburst the _other one_ was restrained enough for a time and\r\ndid not betray herself by violent utterances. Apparently she was\r\nlistening attentively to Roberta Vallis\' views about life and love and\r\nthe destiny of woman, these views being as extreme and selfish as the\r\nmost wayward nature could demand.\r\n\r\nI realized that the moment was critical and concentrated all my\r\nspiritual power in an appeal to Penelope, praying that God would bring\r\nher back and make her heed my words. I spoke gently of God\'s love for\r\nHis children and said that we need fear no evil within us or about us,\r\nno dangers of any sort, if we will learn to draw to us and through us\r\nthat healing and protecting love. We can do this, we must do this by\r\nestablishing a love-current from God to us and from us to God, by\r\nkeeping it flowing just as an electrician keeps an electrical current\r\nflowing--every day, every hour. It is not enough to pray for God\'s love,\r\nwe must keep our spiritual connections right, exactly as an electrician\r\nkeeps his electrical connections right, if we expect the current to\r\nflow. We cannot make our electric lamps burn by merely wishing them to\r\nburn, although there is a boundless ocean of electricity waiting to be\r\ndrawn upon. We must know how to tap that ocean. Similarly, the power of\r\nGod\'s infinite love will not descend upon us simply because we need it\r\nor ask for it. We must ask for it in the right way. We must establish\r\nthe right love-connections. We must set the love-current flowing, and\r\nkeep it flowing, _from God to us and from us back to God_; and this can\r\nbe done only by confessing our sins, by cleansing our hearts of evil\r\nthoughts and desires. _Not even God Himself can make the sun shine upon\r\nthose who wilfully hide in the shadows!_\r\n\r\nI saw that they were listening impatiently and more than once Roberta\r\ntried to interrupt me, but I persisted and said what I had to say as\r\nwell as I could, with all the love in my heart, for I knew that my\r\nprecious Penelope\'s fate was hanging in the balance.\r\n\r\nWhen I had finished Roberta got up from the bed where she had been\r\nsitting and lighted a cigarette.\r\n\r\n"Now, then, it\'s my turn," she began. I could see her eyes shining with\r\nan evil purpose. "You\'ve heard her pretty little speech, Pen. You\'ve\r\nheard her talk about the wonderful power of God\'s love, and a great\r\nrigamarole about how it guards us from all evil, if we say our prayers\r\nand confess our sins and so on. I say that is all bunk, and I can prove\r\nit. Take women--they\'ve always said their prayers more than men, always\r\nconfessed their sins more than men, always been more loving than men,\r\nhaven\'t they? And what\'s the result? Has God protected them from the\r\nevils of life more than men? He has not. God has let women get the worst\r\nof it right straight along through the centuries. Women have always been\r\nthe slaves of men, haven\'t they?--in spite of all their love and\r\ndevotion, in spite of all their prayers and tears? How do you account\r\nfor that?"\r\n\r\nShe flashed this at me with a wicked little toss of her head and\r\nPenelope chimed in: "Yes, I\'d like to know that myself." But, when I\r\ntried to answer, Roberta cut me off with a new flood of violence.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll let you know how I account for it," she went on angrily. "It\'s\r\nbecause all the churches in the world, all the smug preachers in the\r\nworld, like you, have gone on shooting out this very same kind of hot\r\nair that you\'ve been giving us; and the women, silly fools, have fallen\r\nfor it. _But not the men!_ The women have tried to live by love and\r\nprayer and unselfishness; they have said: \'God\'s will be done,\' \'God\r\nwill protect us\'; and what is the result? How has God protected the\r\nwomen, who _did_ believe? And how has He punished the men who refused to\r\nbelieve? He has made the men masters of the world, lords of everything;\r\nand He has kept the women in bondage, hasn\'t He?--in factory bondage, in\r\nnursery bondage, in prostitution bondage? Is what I say true, or isn\'t\r\nit true? I ask you, I ask any person who has got such a thing as a clear\r\nbrain and is not simply a mushy sentimentalist, is what I say true?"\r\n\r\nAgain I tried to answer, but again she cut me short and rushed on in a\r\nblaze of excitement.\r\n\r\n"So it has been through all the pitiful history of women, until a few\r\nyears ago, the poor, foolish creatures began to wake up. At last women\r\nare getting rid of their delusions and emerging from their slavery--why?\r\nBecause they have begun to imitate men, and go straight after the thing\r\nthey want, the thing that is worth while, _by using their power as\r\nwomen_, and not depending upon the power of love or the power of God or\r\nany other power. Believe me, the greatest power in the world is the\r\npower of women _as women_, and we may as well use it to the limit, just\r\nas men would. We can get anything we want out of men by learning to use\r\nthis power, and, I tell you, Pen, there isn\'t anything better in this\r\ngood old United States than money. So far men have had the money,\r\nthey\'ve ground it out of the poor and the ignorant, especially women,\r\nbut now women are going after money and getting it, just like the men.\r\nWhy not? If I want a sable coat and a limousine and a nice duplex\r\napartment, why shouldn\'t I have them, if I can get them without breaking\r\nthe law? And I _can_ get them; so can you, Pen, if you\'ll play the cards\r\nyou hold in your hand. Haven\'t I done it? You don\'t see me eating in\r\nChilds restaurants to any great extent these days, do you? And I\'m not\r\nworrying about clothes, or about paying my rent."\r\n\r\nThe poison of her words was stealing into Penelope\'s soul and defiling\r\nit, yet I was powerless to restrain her.\r\n\r\n"Listen to this, child, and remember it, women are the equals of men\r\ntoday in every line, and they\'re going to have their full share of the\r\ngood things of life. They\'re going to have freedom, and that means the\r\nright to do as they please without asking the permission of any man.\r\nWomen are going to have their own latch keys and their own bank\r\naccounts. They\'re going to cut off their hair and put pockets in their\r\nskirts, and have babies, if they feel like it, or not have them, if they\r\ndon\'t feel like it. The greatest revolution the world has ever known is\r\ngoing on now, it\'s the revolution of women. Let the men open their eyes!\r\nHow did women get the suffrage? Was it by praying for it? Was it by the\r\npower of love? Was it by the mercy of God? No! They got the suffrage by\r\nfighting for it, by going out and hustling for it, just the way men\r\nhustle for what they want. If women had depended on the power of God\'s\r\nlove to give them the suffrage, they wouldn\'t have got it in a million\r\nyears."\r\n\r\nOf course, those were not Roberta\'s exact words, but I am sure I have\r\ngiven the substance of them, and I cannot exaggerate the defiant\r\nbitterness of her tone. She was a powerful devil\'s advocate and I saw\r\nthat wavering Penelope (if it still was Penelope) was deeply impressed\r\nby this false and wicked reasoning. She looked at me out of her\r\nwonderful eyes--unflinching, cruel, then the balance swung against me.\r\n\r\n"I believe you are right, Roberta Vallis," she spoke with raised\r\nforefinger and a show of judicial consideration. "It\'s a bold speech for\r\na woman, I never heard the thing put that way before, but--I\'m damned if\r\nI see what the answer is except--"\r\n\r\n"Oh, Penelope!" I interrupted, trying in vain to reach her with my eyes.\r\n\r\n"You shut up," she answered spitefully. "I said I\'m _damned_ if I see\r\nwhat the answer is except your answer, Bobby, that women have always\r\nbeen fools and dupes--dupes of religious superstition invented by men\r\nfor the benefit of men and never accepted by men."\r\n\r\nRoberta applauded this. "Bravo! little one! I\'ll tell that to Kendall\r\nBrown. _Women have always been dupes of religious superstition invented\r\nby men for the benefit of men and never accepted by men!_ Go on! Tell us\r\nsome more."\r\n\r\nAnd Penelope went on, flinging aside all restraint, while my heart sank.\r\n\r\n"Take my own life. Look at it! I had an ignoble husband. Why didn\'t I\r\nleave him? Because I was loving, trusting. I thought I could save him. I\r\nsaid prayers for him. I asked God to strengthen him. And what was the\r\nresult? The result was that Julian not only destroyed himself, but he\r\ndestroyed what was best in me. Did God interfere? Did God give any\r\nmanifestation of His infinite love? Not so that you could notice it."\r\n\r\nShe paused with heaving bosom and then swept on in her mad discourse.\r\n\r\n"And then, when I was left alone in the world, what happened? I went\r\nabroad as a Red Cross nurse. I tried my best to help in the war. I took\r\ncare of the wounded--under fire. I bore every hardship. I said my\r\nprayers. And God put a curse upon me--yes He did. He took all chance of\r\nhappiness and health and love away from me. He made me do things that I\r\nnever meant to do, that I don\'t remember doing."\r\n\r\nHer cheeks were burning scarlet, her eyes shone like black stars. I\r\ntried to stop her. "My darling, you are ill!"\r\n\r\n"Ill? Who made me ill? God made me ill, didn\'t He? That\'s my reward,\r\nisn\'t it? That\'s what has come of all my love and faith. If that\'s what\r\nGod does, you can have Him. I don\'t want Him. I\'ll go with Roberta.\r\nI\'ll do as Roberta does--yes, I will." She almost screamed the words.\r\n\r\nHow I prayed then for wisdom!\r\n\r\n"No--no!" I said slowly but firmly. "You will _not_ go with Roberta. You\r\nwill go with me."\r\n\r\n"I must say I like your impertinence," Roberta put in, her face white,\r\nher voice trembling with fury. "This happens to be my apartment, Mrs.\r\nSeraphine Walters, and now you can get damned well out of it."\r\n\r\nI saw that I could no nothing more, for Penelope\'s eyes were hard set\r\nagainst me. They both wanted me to go.\r\n\r\n"Good night. God bless you, dear," I said.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you worry about God\'s blessing us. You can tell Him the next time\r\nyou make your report that there is a young woman named Roberta Vallis\r\nliving at the Hotel des Artistes who is getting along quite well, thank\r\nyou, without--"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t say it, please don\'t say it," I begged. "You have no idea what\r\ndangers are threatening, what evil powers are about us--even now--here."\r\n\r\nShe laughed in my face. "I snap my fingers at your evil powers and your\r\nGod of Love. I don\'t believe in either of them. I\'m not afraid of either\r\nof them. Evil powers! Ha! Let them come if they want to. Here! We\'ll\r\ndrink defiance to the powers of evil. Come on, Pen!"\r\n\r\n"Defiance to the powers of evil," laughed my poor soul-sick Penelope,\r\nlifting her glass.\r\n\r\nWith a shudder I watched these two tragically led young women as they\r\nstood there, draped in white, and drank this sacrilegious toast; then,\r\nheavy-hearted, I came away.\r\n\r\nIt was nearly four o\'clock when I reached my home and I was so exhausted\r\nby the emotions of the night that I lay down without undressing and\r\nalmost immediately fell into a troubled sleep. Then, suddenly, I awoke\r\nwith a start of alarm and a sense that a voice had called me. And,\r\nthough my bedroom was dark, I distinctly saw a white vaporish form\r\npassing over me as if someone had blown a cloud of tobacco smoke in my\r\nface. Once before I had had this experience of a white form passing over\r\nme--it was when my mother died.\r\n\r\nI got up quickly, knowing that this was a summons, and, as I put on my\r\nhat and cloak, I heard my control telling me that I must go to Penelope.\r\nI knelt down and prayed that I might not be too late. Then I hurried\r\nback to the hotel and got there at half-past five. It was still night.\r\n\r\nA sleepy elevator girl took me up to Roberta\'s apartment and I found\r\nthat the door opened at my touch. In another moment I was standing in\r\nthe silent hall looking down a long passage that led to Penelope\'s\r\nbedroom. The bedroom door was ajar and a dim light from the chamber\r\nillumined the way before me.\r\n\r\nThus far I had acted swiftly, almost mechanically, knowing that I had\r\nonly one thing to do, and I had been aware of no particular emotion\r\nexcept a natural anxiety; but now, the moment I entered this apartment\r\nand closed the door behind me, I was conscious of a freezing, paralyzing\r\nfear, a sensation as real as the touch of a hand or the sound of a\r\nbell. It was something that could not be resisted. I was bathed in an\r\natmosphere of terror. I was afraid to a degree that made my breath stop,\r\nmy heart stop....\r\n\r\nThe passage leading to Penelope\'s bedroom was not more than six yards\r\nlong, but it seemed as if it took me an hour to traverse it. I could\r\nscarcely force my lagging steps, one by one, to carry me. And every\r\nhideous moment brought me the vision of Penelope lying on that curtained\r\nbed, her beautiful face distorted, her eager young life--crushed out of\r\nher. Oh God, how I prayed!\r\n\r\nWhen at last I came into the bedroom I faced another struggle. There was\r\nabsolute silence. No sound of breathing from the bed, although I saw a\r\nwoman\'s form under the sheets. But not her face, which was hidden by the\r\ncurtain. For a long time I stood beside that bed, rigid with fear,\r\nbefore I found courage to draw the curtain back. At last I drew it back\r\nand--there lay Penelope, sleeping peacefully, quite unharmed. I was\r\nstunned with relief, with amazement and--suddenly her eyes opened and\r\nshe gave a wild but joyful cry and flung her arms around my neck,\r\nsobbing hysterically.\r\n\r\n"Oh! Oh! My dear, dear Seraphine! You came to me. You forgave me. You\r\ndid not abandon your poor Penelope." She clung to me like a child in\r\nfrantic, pitiful terror.\r\n\r\nThen she told me that she too had gone through a frightful experience.\r\nWhen Roberta had left her, about an hour before, to sleep in the\r\nadjoining apartment, as they had arranged with Margaret G----, Penelope\r\nhad tried to compose herself on her pillow, but she had scarcely fallen\r\ninto a doze when she was awakened by the same sense of horrible fear\r\nthat had overcome me. She was about to die--by violence. An assassin was\r\ncoming--he was near her. She could hardly breathe. It was almost beyond\r\nher power to rise from the bed and search the apartment, but she did\r\nthis. There was nothing, and yet the terror persisted. She huddled\r\nherself under the bed-covers and waited, saying her prayers. And when I\r\nentered the apartment and came down the passage--so slowly, so\r\nstealthily!--she _knew_ it was the murderer coming to kill her. And when\r\nI paused at her bedside--how long it was before I drew the curtain!--she\r\nalmost died again, waiting for the blow.\r\n\r\nOf course I did not leave Penelope after this, but comforted her and\r\nprayed with her and rejoiced that her madness was past. Then we tried to\r\nsleep, locked in each other\'s arms, but, shortly after six, there came a\r\ntimid knock at the door and, all of a tremble, Jeanne entered,\r\nPenelope\'s French maid who had come with her mistress to Roberta\'s party\r\nand had occupied a small room overhead, and she told us with hysterical\r\nsobs that she had not closed her eyes all night for ghastly visions of\r\nPenelope murdered in her bed.\r\n\r\nNow it is easy to scoff at premonitions and haunting fears, but there\r\ncan be no doubt that on this night an evil spirit was present in\r\nRoberta\'s apartment, a hideous, destructive entity that came\r\nand--wavered in its deadly purpose against Penelope, then--_manifested\r\nto Roberta Vallis in the adjoining apartment_, for when I went in\r\nthere a little later I found Roberta--she who had mocked God and defied\r\nthe powers of evil--I found her in her bed, her face convulsed with a\r\nlook of indescribable terror--_dead!_\r\n\r\nThe hotel doctor reported it as a case of heart failure, but Doctor\r\nWilliam Owen, who has an honest mind, acknowledged that all this was\r\nbeyond his understanding. This tragedy made him realize at last that\r\nthere may be sinister agencies in us and about us that cannot be dealt\r\nwith by mere medical skill. And, at my pleading, he directed that Mrs.\r\nWells be placed immediately in the care of Dr. Edgar Leroy.\r\n\r\nThank God, my precious Penelope will receive psychic treatment before it\r\nis too late. There is no other hope for her but this.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\nPOSSESSED\r\n\r\n\r\n(_From Penelope\'s Diary_)\r\n\r\n_At Dr. Leroy\'s Sanitarium._\r\n\r\nI understand why people kill themselves. There was an hour last night,\r\nthat horrible hour between four and five (I have seen so many hospital\r\npatients die then), when I was resolved to kill myself. Seraphine was\r\nsleeping in the next room--she has not left me since I came to this\r\nplace yesterday--and I longed to waken her for a last talk, but decided\r\nnot to. What was the use? I must settle this for myself--whether it was\r\npossible for me to go on living or not, I must fight out this battle\r\nalone--with my own soul.\r\n\r\nI decided to kill myself because I felt sure, after what had happened,\r\nthat I was condemned to madness. This is evidently a place where mad\r\npeople are treated. They call it a Sanitarium, but I know what that\r\nmeans. Seraphine speaks of Dr. Leroy (I have only seen him once) as a\r\nwonderful spiritual healer and she says I will love him because he is so\r\nkind and wise; but none of this deceives me. I know they have brought me\r\nto a place for mad people.\r\n\r\nHere is a thought that makes me waver--what if death is not\r\nannihilation? What if I find myself in some new state where there are\r\nother horrors and terrors--worse than those that I have suffered? The\r\nVoices tell me this--taunting me. And then Christopher! He loves me so\r\nmuch! He will be so sorry, if I do this!\r\n\r\nWhile I was hesitating--it was just before dawn--Seraphine came to me.\r\nShe talked to me, soothed me, and, at last, she told me the truth about\r\nmyself. She said that all my troubles come from this, that I am\r\npossessed by an evil spirit! _Literally possessed!_ This is what she was\r\nleading up to when she told me about the great company of earth-bound\r\nsouls that are hovering about us since the war, striving to come back!\r\n\r\nThe extraordinary part of it is that I no longer regard this as a\r\nfantastic impossibility. I no longer reject it. I am not terrified or\r\nhorrified by the thought, but almost welcome it, since it offers an\r\nexplanation of what has happened that does not involve madness. I am\r\neither possessed by an evil spirit or I am mad, and of these two I\r\nprefer the evil spirit. That, at least, is a definite cause carrying\r\nwith it the hope of a cure, for we read that evil spirits were cast out\r\nin olden times, and they may be again.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOne thing convinces me that what Seraphine says is true--I did something\r\nat Roberta\'s party that my own soul or spirit, even in madness, could\r\nnever have done. I accused Christopher of committing a crime. I accused\r\nhim of treason! Christopher! My love! Seraphine bears witness to this.\r\nI _must_ be possessed by an evil spirit! This would account for\r\nsomething else that happened last night. I was just falling into a\r\ntroubled sleep when--_no, I cannot tell it!_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nChristopher sent me a gorgeous basket of roses this morning with his\r\nlove. He loves me in spite of the devil and all his angels--he said that\r\nto Seraphine. How wonderful! I wish they would let me see him, and\r\nyet--I am ashamed. How can I ever face Christopher again?\r\n\r\nThere is something strange about Roberta Vallis--I feel it. She did not\r\ncome in to speak to me or say good-bye before I left her apartment--that\r\nmorning. Why not? I asked Seraphine if there was anything the matter\r\nwith Roberta--had I done anything to offend her?--but the only answer I\r\ncould get was that Roberta is not well. Seraphine is keeping something\r\nback--I am sure of it.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSeraphine knows of two cases where evil spirits have been cast out. One\r\nwas a New York silversmith who had never shown any talent for art, but\r\nwho suddenly began to paint remarkable pictures, which sold for good\r\nprices. He was desperately unhappy, however, because he felt sure that\r\nhe was becoming insane. He had visions of scenes that he was impelled to\r\npaint and he suffered from clairaudient hallucinations. Two well known\r\nneurologists declared that he was a victim of paranoia and must soon be\r\nconfined in an asylum. This man was brought back to a normal condition\r\nby Dr. Leroy\'s treatment, and the first step in his improvement was when\r\nhe grasped the idea that his abnormal symptoms were due to possession.\r\nThis satisfied his reason and drove away his fears (I understand that),\r\nespecially when he was assured that an evil spirit can be driven out by\r\nthe power of God\'s love as easily as an evil germ or humour of the body\r\ncan be driven out by the same agency. What a blessed thought!\r\n\r\nSeraphine says we must obey the safeguarding rules with which God has\r\nsurrounded the operation of His love, if we would enjoy the blessed\r\nguardianship of that love. We must not expect God to change His rules\r\nfor us. _We must cleanse our hearts of evil!_\r\n\r\nThe other case of possession was not a patient of Dr. Leroy, but came\r\nunder Seraphine\'s notice while she was attending a sufferer. This was\r\nAlice E----, a charming, refined girl about twenty, the daughter of\r\nwell-bred people who lived in Boston. They were somewhat stricter in\r\nfamily discipline than most American parents, consequently Alice, from\r\nbabyhood up, was guarded and protected in every possible way. She and\r\nher mother were almost inseparable companions. There was absolutely no\r\nway in which Alice could have become acquainted with people of the\r\nunderworld, or heard the vile expressions that she afterward used in an\r\nevil personality. Her face showed unusual innocence and purity, her\r\ndisposition was affectionate and serene.\r\n\r\nBut when she was about seventeen Alice began to have strange spells of\r\nirritability; she would grow sullen and stubborn, and soon these ugly\r\nmoods became more violent; she would burst into horrible tirades against\r\nher father and mother and declare that she couldn\'t stand their\r\ngoody-goody ways, that they were so damned pious they made her sick.\r\nThen rage and lust seemed to possess her and she would talk about men in\r\na shocking way, using unspeakable words, while the expression of her\r\nface and the posture of her body became those of a wanton.\r\n\r\nAt first Alice could not tell when these attacks were coming on, but\r\nlater, when she was about twenty, she knew and would beg her family to\r\nkeep "that dreadful, horrible girl" from taking hold of her. "She\'s\r\ngoing to change me! Oh, keep her away! Don\'t let her get me!" she would\r\ncry out in terror.\r\n\r\nThrough the last days of the poor girl\'s life the struggle between the\r\nreal Alice and the gutter woman went on almost constantly. Alice would\r\nimplore Seraphine to make the wicked girl go away so that when the end\r\ncame (she knew she was going to die) she might be herself. But the evil\r\nspirit had firm possession and a few hours before her death Alice\'s\r\nmouth was coarse and sensual, her eyes were wicked, her whole expression\r\nrevolting.\r\n\r\nSeraphine sent word to the family that they must not come into the room;\r\nthen, kneeling by the bedside of the dying girl, she nerved herself for\r\na last struggle between the powers of good and evil. With all the\r\nstrength of her pure soul she invoked God\'s love to restore and heal\r\nthis afflicted child ere she departed for the Great Beyond; and, an hour\r\nbefore the end, the family were admitted to the chamber and looked upon\r\nAlice\'s pillowed face, sweetly smiling, beautiful and unsullied, as they\r\nhad always known her and cherished her. _God\'s love had prevailed!_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen Seraphine left me my mind had become calm and hopeful and I had\r\ngiven up my wicked purpose. I fell asleep praying that God would save me\r\nfrom the powers of darkness, that His love would watch over me and\r\nprotect me from all evil, especially from that dream on the Fall River\r\nsteamboat, the one that has tortured me so many nights.\r\n\r\nI awakened suddenly to the knowledge that a terrible thing had happened,\r\nan incredible thing. I was alone in my bedroom, _and yet I was not\r\nalone_! I had escaped one degradation only to face another. I was awake,\r\nfully awake; yet I was more abdominally tempted than ever I was in my\r\ndreams. With all the strength of my soul I fought against the\r\naggressions of a real presence that--_that touched me!_ I cried out, I\r\nstruggled, I begged God to save me or else to let me die. And then\r\nSeraphine came to me again in my agony.\r\n\r\nBut before she came the Voices sounded worse than ever, nearer about me\r\nthan ever. Why was I such a fool? Why was I so obstinate in resisting my\r\nfate? Was I not Their appointed sacrifice? Why not be resigned to the\r\ninevitable? Why not...? They laughed and fluttered close to me with\r\nvile murmurings while I prayed against them with all my strength.\r\n\r\n"_God of love, guard Thy child; God of power, save Thy child_," I\r\nprayed.\r\n\r\nA harsh, cruel voice broke in to tell me that Roberta Vallis was dead,\r\nshe died of terror because she had defied Them, as I had defied Them;\r\nand, in three days, the Voice said that I, too, would die of terror.\r\nThree days remained to me, three nights with my dream and a hideous\r\nawakening, unless--\r\n\r\nThen Seraphine opened my bedroom door and I sobbed in her arms a long\r\ntime before I could speak.\r\n\r\n"Is--is Roberta dead?" I gasped.\r\n\r\nShe looked at me strangely and I knew it was true.\r\n\r\n"Yes, dear," she answered gently, and tried to comfort me again, but it\r\nwas in vain.\r\n\r\n"I have only three days to live, Seraphine," I said solemnly. "Three\r\ndays and three nights!"\r\n\r\nThen I told her what the evil spirit had said, and she listened with\r\ngrave attention.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XV\r\n\r\nDR. LEROY\r\n\r\n\r\nThere may now be presented, as bearing upon Mrs. Wells\' strange illness,\r\na conversation which took place between Dr. William Owen and Dr. Edgar\r\nLeroy, the psychic healer, on the evening following Penelope\'s entrance\r\ninto the Leroy sanitarium on Fortieth Street, just south of Bryant Park.\r\n\r\nOwen began in his bluff, outspoken way: "Doctor, I have put into your\r\nhands a lady I am very fond of, in spite of the fact that your theories\r\ncontradict everything I stand for. Not very complimentary, is it?--but I\r\nmay as well tell you the truth. Mrs. Wells has not improved under my\r\ntreatment, I admit that, and I have turned her over to you as a sort of\r\nlast hope."\r\n\r\nLeroy\'s rather stern face brightened with a flash of humor.\r\n\r\n"The same thing has happened to other physicians, doctor. I believe you\r\ndiagnose this case as shell shock?"\r\n\r\n"Unquestionably--with unfavorable developments, dual personality\r\ncomplications--I wrote you."\r\n\r\n"Yes. I spent several hours with Mrs. Wells last evening when she\r\narrived. She was agitated, but I soothed her and explained certain\r\nthings that had troubled her, and, gradually, she grew calm. I think I\r\ncan help her."\r\n\r\nIn spite of himself Dr. Owen was favorably impressed both by the man and\r\nhis surroundings. There was nothing garish or freakish or Oriental about\r\nthe place, which was furnished with the business-like simplicity of an\r\nordinary doctor\'s office. And Leroy certainly had a fine head--a\r\nclean-shaven face with heavy black brows under which shone grave, kindly\r\neyes that twinkled now and then in good-natured understanding. He was\r\nabout ten years younger than his colleague.\r\n\r\n"May I ask, doctor, if there is any scientific evidence to prove the\r\nexistence of this healing spiritual power that you use or think you\r\nuse?" In spite of himself, Owen put this question a little\r\npatronizingly.\r\n\r\n"There are the results--the cures. And there is the evidence of\r\nChristianity. Spiritual power is the basis of Christianity, isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\nA deeper note sounded here, and the hard-headed materialist began to\r\nrealize that he was in the presence of an unusual personality, developed\r\nby suffering and struggle, a man who had finally reached a haven of sure\r\nand comforting belief. There was great kindness in this face as well as\r\nstrength.\r\n\r\n"Nothing else? Is there no evidence similar to that which convinces us\r\nthat the X-rays really exist?"\r\n\r\nLeroy thought a moment, then he spoke with a quiet impressiveness that\r\nwas not lost upon Dr. Owen.\r\n\r\n"There is evidence that would probably convince any fair-minded person\r\nwho was willing to give to the investigation time enough to get results.\r\nThe X-rays were not discovered in a day, were they? Suppose I tell you\r\nhow I got into this occult field--would that interest you?"\r\n\r\n"Very much."\r\n\r\n"Take that other chair--make yourself comfortable--that\'s better. It\r\nbegan accidentally with certain persistent hallucinations, as I used to\r\ncall them, in a patient of mine, a Southern lady whom I attended when I\r\nwas a regular practitioner like yourself. These hallucinations worried\r\nme, and, being an open-minded man, I found it impossible to dismiss them\r\nas of trivial importance; so I began an investigation that led me--well,\r\nit led me very far, it is still leading me, for I am scarcely over the\r\nthreshold of that mysterious region where spirit phenomena occur. I\r\nresolved to know _for myself_ whether these things are true."\r\n\r\n"And you think they are true?"\r\n\r\n"I know they are true," was the grave reply.\r\n\r\nDr. Owen listened attentively while Leroy described his first groping\r\nefforts to determine whether or not he personally possessed psychic\r\npowers. He began with regular periods of mental concentration, an\r\nopening of the soul, as it were, to spirit impressions; he would sit\r\nalone, in a state of meditative receptiveness for ten or fifteen minutes\r\nevery day, and later several times a day, waiting for something to\r\nhappen--he did not know what.\r\n\r\nDay after day the psychologist persisted in this singular experiment\r\nand, soon, he began to see small blue figures, irregularly shaped, that\r\nmoved rapidly about the room and cast no shadows. Some of these blue\r\nfigures were luminous, and among them were occasional luminous white\r\nfigures. As weeks passed and his efforts continued, there came a\r\nnoticeable increase in the number of these moving shapes until, when the\r\ndoctor desired it, he could make them swarm everywhere, over the walls,\r\nthe pictures, the bookcases.\r\n\r\n"Wait!" interrupted Owen. "Do you see these blue shapes or luminous\r\nfigures at all times? Do you see them now?"\r\n\r\n"No. I only see them when I desire to see them--when I prepare myself to\r\nuse them--for a case."\r\n\r\nLeroy told how the phenomena continued to increase in frequency and in\r\nintensity, how gradually he felt an unmistakable sense of power growing\r\nin himself, as if he had somehow tapped a vast source of energy, a kind\r\nof spiritual trolley-line, and he was now impelled to use this power. He\r\nmade his first trial on a poor man who had suffered for years from\r\nheadaches that seemed incurable.\r\n\r\n"Stretch out on that reclining chair, close your eyes, don\'t think of\r\nanything," ordered the experimenter. Then he laid his hands on the man\'s\r\nforehead and concentrated his mind in the psychic way he had adopted.\r\nAlmost immediately the blue shapes appeared in great numbers, and began\r\nto pour themselves in fine, pulsing streams, like a purplish mist, over\r\nthe patient\'s brow and head and shoulders, over his whole body until he\r\nwas completely enveloped in them, laved by them, penetrated by them.\r\n\r\n"That was a crude beginning," Leroy went on, "but it drove away those\r\nobstinate headaches for three months; then a second laying on of hands\r\ncompleted the cure. After that, as months passed, other persons were\r\ncured in the same way--especially nervous cases. Whatever these blue\r\nstreams are, they benefit the patient in most cases. One woman told me,\r\nduring a treatment, that _she saw blue shapes about her_!"\r\n\r\n"You hypnotized her," declared Owen.\r\n\r\n"Possibly. I did not intend to."\r\n\r\n"What I want to know is, have you ever treated a case like this one of\r\nMrs. Wells?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I treated a young woman in Mrs. Wells\' profession, a trained\r\nnurse. She came of good family and was very intelligent, but she was\r\ndriven toward certain forms of depravity. It was pretty bad. All efforts\r\nto change her had failed and, at last, her mother in desperation decided\r\nto try psychic treatment."\r\n\r\n"And you cured her?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. She is now doing useful work in Washington for the Red Cross."\r\n\r\n"How did you cure her--it wasn\'t simply by the laying on of hands, was\r\nit?"\r\n\r\n"No. I recognize the necessity of getting at the forgotten or concealed\r\ncauses of these abnormalities, just as Freud does in his\r\npsycho-analysis, but, instead of following the uncertain trail of\r\ndreams, I conceived the idea of discovering the truth by clairvoyant\r\nrevelation. I engaged Mrs. Seraphine Walters to assist me in my work.\r\nShe has astonishing psychic gifts and--" he hesitated.\r\n\r\n"Yes?"\r\n\r\n"In her entranced condition, Mrs. Walters discovered things about this\r\nyoung woman, painful things that had been hidden for years and--well, I\r\nwas able to relieve her of her fears and check her waywardness," he\r\nconcluded abruptly.\r\n\r\n"But the details? Tell me more about this case. What were the painful\r\nthings that Mrs. Walters discovered?"\r\n\r\nLeroy shook his head.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the use? I can state the result of my treatment, but if I go\r\ninto details, if I try to make you understand the cause of this young\r\nwoman\'s evil desires and how I overcame them--" he paused, his eyes\r\nshining with an inspired light. "Don\'t you see, doctor, you and I do not\r\nspeak the same language. You are always in opposition. You have no\r\nfaith. It\'s your narrow training."\r\n\r\n"Narrow?" snorted the other.\r\n\r\n"Yes, you scientists are childishly narrow. You believe in atoms and\r\nions and electrons that you have never seen and never will see, but if\r\nanyone mentions secrets of the soul that control human happiness, you\r\nlaugh or sneer."\r\n\r\n"Not necessarily. I suppose you refer to your theory of possession by\r\nevil spirits. If you could only furnish any evidence--"\r\n\r\n"It isn\'t my theory. It\'s as old as Christianity, it\'s a part of\r\nChristianity. As to evidence, my dear sir, you are blind to evidence.\r\nThe young lady I speak of was despaired of by everybody, she was on her\r\nway to an insane asylum, two alienists had declared her case hopeless,\r\nyet, thanks to psychic treatment, she was restored to health and\r\nhappiness. Does that impress you? Not at all if you call it a\r\ncoincidence. And if I am fortunate enough to cure Mrs. Wells, whom you\r\nhave failed to cure, you will call that a coincidence, too."\r\n\r\nDr. Owen tried to control his irritation, but his prejudices got the\r\nbetter of him.\r\n\r\n"Of course I want to see Mrs. Wells cured, but--do you mean to tell me\r\nseriously that you believe she is possessed by an evil spirit?"\r\n\r\n"I believe that some malignant influence is near her and able to control\r\nher--intermittently. How else do you account for the facts in her case?\r\nEven Mrs. Wells believes this."\r\n\r\n"That is because Seraphine put the notion in her head. It\'s\r\nunfortunate."\r\n\r\n"No, she believes this because of the way her friend died. You know how\r\nshe died?"\r\n\r\n"Miss Vallis? She died suddenly, but the cause of her death is doubtful.\r\nPeople die suddenly from all sorts of causes."\r\n\r\n"Yes," answered Leroy with a significant tightening of the lips, "and\r\none of the causes is fear. People die suddenly of fear, doctor."\r\n\r\n"Referring to Mrs. Wells and her bad dreams?"\r\n\r\n"Precisely. If you had seen her last night--after midnight--watching the\r\nclock with dark, furtive glances, watching, waiting, as the hands\r\napproached half past twelve, you would understand what fear can do to a\r\nwoman. That is Mrs. Wells\' worst symptom, she is afraid--not all the\r\ntime but intermittently."\r\n\r\nOwen leaned forward in concentrated attention.\r\n\r\n"Why was she in such a state at half past twelve rather than at any\r\nother time?"\r\n\r\n"Because the change in her takes place then, the change into her other\r\npersonality."\r\n\r\n"Fauvette? You saw her--in that personality?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. I saw her. Besides, she told me about it in advance. She knows\r\nwhat is going to take place, but is powerless against it. Every night at\r\nexactly half past twelve there comes a violent period that lasts until\r\none o\'clock. Then she falls into a deep sleep, and a dream begins,\r\nalways the same dream, a horrible dream that terrifies her and drains\r\nher life forces. She had this dream last night, she will have it again\r\ntonight, and again tomorrow night. _She believes that she will die\r\ntomorrow night, just as her friend died!_"\r\n\r\n"Good God! What a pity!" exclaimed Owen. "Why does she think she is\r\ngoing to die tomorrow night?"\r\n\r\n"Her Voices tell her so, and she believes them."\r\n\r\n"She told you this?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\nThe older man tapped impatiently on his chair-arm.\r\n\r\n"And you? What did you say to her? You surely do not believe that Mrs.\r\nWells will die tomorrow night? You know these are only the morbid\r\nfancies of an hysterical woman, don\'t you?"\r\n\r\nLeroy rose quietly and took down a volume from the bookcase.\r\n\r\n"How we love to argue over the _names_ of things!" he answered gravely.\r\n"I don\'t care what you call the influence or obsession that threatens\r\nthis lady. I ask, What do you propose to do about it? Do _you_ believe\r\nthat Mrs. Wells will die tomorrow night? Do you?"\r\n\r\nOwen moved uncomfortably on his chair, frowned, snapped his fingers\r\nsoftly and finally admitted that he did not know.\r\n\r\n"Ah! Then is it your idea to wait without doing anything until tomorrow\r\nnight comes, and see if Mrs. Wells really does die at half-past twelve,\r\nand then, if she does, as the Vallis woman died, to simply say: \'It\'s\r\nvery strange, it\'s too bad!\' and let it go at that? Is that your idea?\r\nWill you take that responsibility?"\r\n\r\n"No, certainly not. I don\'t mean to interfere with your plans. I told\r\nyou I have left this matter entirely in your hands," answered the\r\nskeptic, his aggressiveness suddenly calmed.\r\n\r\n"Very well. Take my word, doctor, fear is terribly destructive, it may\r\ncause death. Listen to this case, cited by a French psychologist." He\r\nturned over the pages. "Daughter of an English nobleman, engaged to a\r\nman she loves, perfectly happy; but one night she is visited, or thinks\r\nshe is, by her dead mother who says she will come for her daughter the\r\nnext day at noon. The girl tells her father she is going to die. She\r\nreads her Bible, sings hymns to the accompaniment of a guitar, and just\r\nbefore noon, although apparently in excellent health, she asks to be\r\nhelped to a large arm chair in her bedroom. At noon exactly she draws\r\ntwo or three gasping breaths and sinks back into her chair, dead. That\r\nshows what fear will do."\r\n\r\nBut his adversary was still unconvinced.\r\n\r\n"What does that prove? Do you think you could have saved this young\r\nwoman if you had been in charge of the case?"\r\n\r\n"Perhaps. I hope to save Mrs. Wells."\r\n\r\n"How?"\r\n\r\nLeroy hesitated, frowned with a nervous squinting, as if he were trying\r\nto solve a baffling problem.\r\n\r\n"How? I wish I could tell you, doctor, but you would not understand.\r\nThat is the sad part of my work, I am all alone."\r\n\r\nHis eyes burned somberly, then he spoke with intense feeling.\r\n\r\n"Not one of you orthodox physicians will join me in my effort to save\r\nmillions of unfortunates from the tragedy of our state hospitals. You\r\nwon\'t lift a hand to help me. You all say there is nothing to be done.\r\nWhat a wicked evasion of responsibility! Nothing to be done? I tell you\r\nthere is everything to be done. Suppose you had a daughter or a sister\r\nor a wife who was suffering from such an affliction--how would you feel?\r\nGod grant you may never know how you would feel. Why do you doctors\r\nscoff at miracles when the Bible is full of them and we all live among\r\nthem? What is life but an unceasing miracle? Tell me how you move your\r\nfinger except by a miracle? What is vision? What is death? How do you\r\n_know_ that spirits of the departed, good and bad, do not come back to\r\nhelp us--or to harm us? Many great men believe this and always have.\r\nMany fine women know that this is true. Mrs. Walters has actually _seen_\r\nan evil spirit hovering about a girl who was called insane. How do you\r\nknow that insanity is not caused by evil possession?"\r\n\r\n"Hold on! I can\'t answer all those questions," laughed Owen and now his\r\nmanner changed quite charmingly as he made an _amende honorable_. "I\'m a\r\nstubborn old fool, doctor. I ought to have had more sense than to get\r\ninto this argument. What I care about is to have this dear lady restored\r\nto health and happiness. There!" He held out his hand. "Forgive me! The\r\nmore miracles you can work for her cure, the better I shall like it."\r\n\r\nAt this Leroy relented in his turn.\r\n\r\n"Dr. Owen, I will not conceal from you that Mrs. Wells is in great\r\nperil. I have no more doubt that she will die tomorrow night, unless she\r\nconsents to do something that I have already indicated to her as\r\nnecessary, than I have of your presence in this room."\r\n\r\n"Extraordinary! Do you really mean that? What is this thing? Is it a\r\ndefinite thing, or is it some--some spiritual thing?"\r\n\r\nDr. Leroy sighed and shook his head.\r\n\r\n"It\'s hard for you to believe, isn\'t it? I suppose you want me to give\r\nMrs. Wells a dose of medicine or put a hot water bag at her feet. No,\r\ndoctor, it\'s much more difficult than that."\r\n\r\nThe veteran pondered this in puzzled exasperation.\r\n\r\n"If Mrs. Wells does this definite thing that you have told her to do,\r\nwill she be saved?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I think so," Leroy spoke confidently.\r\n\r\nThere came a knock at the office door, but both men were so absorbed in\r\ntheir conversation that they paid no attention to it.\r\n\r\n"Is there any doubt about her doing this definite thing that will save\r\nher?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s the trouble, she fights against doing it with all her strength.\r\nShe says she cannot do it. _But I tell her she must do it!_"\r\n\r\nThe knock sounded sharper. An attendant had come with a message from\r\nSeraphine asking Dr. Leroy to come to her at once. She was upstairs in\r\nMrs. Wells\' sitting-room. Something serious had happened.\r\n\r\n"Tell Mrs. Walters that I will be right up," he said. "You had better\r\nwait here, doctor." Leroy glanced at his watch. "It\'s half-past nine. We\r\nhave three hours."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVI\r\n\r\nIRRESPONSIBLE HANDS\r\n\r\n\r\nDr. Leroy found Mrs. Walters in the attractive sitting-room, brightened\r\nby flowers (most of them sent by Christopher) that had been set apart\r\nfor Penelope. The medium, usually so serene, was pale and agitated and\r\nhad evidently been repairing some recent disorder of her hair and dress.\r\n\r\n"She is asleep, doctor," panted Seraphine, and she pointed to the closed\r\ndoor of the bedroom. "We have had quite a bad time."\r\n\r\nThen Seraphine told the doctor what had happened. She and Penelope had\r\nspent the evening pleasantly, sewing and chatting, and Mrs. Wells had\r\nseemed her old joyous self, free from fears and agitations. She listened\r\nwith touching confidence when the medium assured her that her mother\'s\r\nexalted spirit was trying to help her. And she promised to bear in mind\r\nDr. Leroy\'s injunction that, just before composing herself to sleep, she\r\nmust hold the thought strongly that she was God\'s child, guarded from\r\nall evil by the power of God\'s love. Also she would search into her\r\nheart to find the obstacle that prevented her mother from coming closer\r\nto her.\r\n\r\nAbout nine o\'clock Penelope said she was sleepy and would lie down to\r\nrest, at which Seraphine rejoiced, hoping this might indicate a break in\r\nthe spell of fear that had kept Mrs. Wells in exhausting suspense.\r\nPerhaps this was an answer to their prayers. She assisted the patient,\r\nlovingly and encouragingly, to prepare herself for the night and at\r\nhalf-past nine left her in bed with the light extinguished and the door\r\nleading into the sitting-room open, so that she could hear the slightest\r\ncall.\r\n\r\nAbout twenty minutes later, as Seraphine sat meditating, her attention\r\nwas attracted by a sound from the bedroom and, looking through the door,\r\nshe was surprised to see Mrs. Wells sitting up in bed and writing\r\nrapidly on a large pad from which she tore sheets now and then, letting\r\nthese fall to the floor. So dim was the bedroom light that it was\r\nimpossible for Penelope to see her penciled writing, nor did she even\r\nglance at the words, but held her eyes fixed in a far-away stare, as if\r\nshe were guided by some distant voice or vision. After a time, Penelope\r\nceased writing and sank back in slumber upon her pillow, allowing the\r\npad to fall by her side.\r\n\r\n"Automatic writing," nodded the psychologist.\r\n\r\n"Yes. I entered the bedroom softly and picked up the sheets. There are\r\ntwo communications, one in a large scrawl written by a woman--I believe,\r\nit is Penelope\'s mother. The other is in a small regular hand with quick\r\npowerful strokes, evidently a man\'s writing. There! You see the\r\nhandwriting is quite different from Penelope\'s."\r\n\r\nLeroy studied the sheets in silence.\r\n\r\n"Have you read these messages?"\r\n\r\n"I read one of them, doctor, the one from Penelope\'s mother--it is full\r\nof love and wisdom--and I was just beginning the other when a terrible\r\nthing happened. That is why I sent for you. I was sitting in this\r\nrocking chair with my back turned to the bedroom door, absorbed in\r\nreading this message, when suddenly--"\r\n\r\n"Wait! Let me read it first. Hello! It\'s for Captain Herrick."\r\n\r\n"Not all of it. Won\'t you read it aloud, doctor?"\r\n\r\nThe medium closed her eyes while Leroy, speaking in a low tone but\r\ndistinctly, repeated this mysterious communication:\r\n\r\n_Tell Captain Herrick it was I he saw on the battlefield guiding the\r\nstumbling footsteps of my little girl, helping her to find the place\r\nwhere he lay. I realized that, through her love for him, which she would\r\nexperience later, she would build better and higher ideals than the ones\r\nshe was then holding deep within her soul. Tell him also that he is in\r\ndanger from something he is carrying...._\r\n\r\nHere the writing became impossible to decipher.\r\n\r\n"See how the powers of Love work against the powers of Evil!" mused the\r\npsychic. "I must show this to Captain Herrick. Well, what happened?"\r\n\r\nSeraphine went on to say that she had just begun to read the second\r\npiece of automatic writing and had only finished a few lines--enough to\r\nsee that it was very different from the first--when she felt a clutch of\r\nhands around her throat and realized that Fauvette had crept up\r\ncunningly from behind. There had been a struggle in which the medium\r\ntried vainly to cry out for help or to reach the bell, but her enemy was\r\ntoo strong for her, and she had grown weaker; then, using strategy, she\r\nlet herself fall limp under the murderous hands, whereupon Fauvette,\r\nlaughing triumphantly, had loosened her grip for a moment and allowed\r\nSeraphine to free herself.\r\n\r\n"Then I caught her and held her so that I could look into her eyes and,\r\nfinally, I subdued her. She cried out that she would come back again,\r\nbut I forced her to lie down and almost instantly she fell into a deep\r\nsleep."\r\n\r\n"It was your love and your fearlessness that gave you the victory,"\r\nLeroy said quietly. Then he took up the other message and read it with\r\ndarkening eyes.\r\n\r\n"Horrible! The change must have come while she was writing this."\r\n\r\nHe opened the bedroom door softly and, with infinite compassion in his\r\nrugged face, bent over Penelope who was sleeping peacefully, her\r\nloveliness marred by no sign of evil.\r\n\r\nAn hour passed now, during which the spiritual physician gave Seraphine\r\nher instructions for the night and made preparations for the struggle\r\nthat he knew was before him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMeantime Captain Herrick had reached the sanitarium and, finding Dr.\r\nOwen in the study, had laid before him a plan to save Penelope, if it\r\nwas true, as Christopher believed, that her trouble was simply in the\r\nimagination. He proposed to divert his sweetheart\'s attention so that\r\nshe would not know when the deadly Fauvette hour was at hand. And to\r\nthis end he had arranged to have the clocks set back half an hour.\r\n\r\n"It can\'t do any harm, can it, sir?" he urged with a lover\'s ardor, "and\r\nit may succeed. Dr. Leroy says it\'s fear that\'s killing her. Well, we\'ll\r\ndrive away her fear. I\'ve fixed it at the church down the street, the\r\none that chimes the quarter-hours, to have that clock put back. And the\r\nclocks in the house are easy. What do you think of it, sir?" he asked\r\neagerly.\r\n\r\nThe old doctor frowned in perplexity.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know, Chris. You\'ll have to put this up to Dr. Leroy. He\'s a\r\nwonderful fellow. I\'ve had my eyes opened tonight or my\r\nsoul--something."\r\n\r\nThe two men smoked solemnly.\r\n\r\n"I believe we\'re going to save Penelope, my boy--somehow. It\'s a mighty\r\nqueer world. I don\'t know but we are all more or less possessed by evil\r\nspirits, Chris. What are these brainstorms that overwhelm the best of\r\nus? Why do good men and women, on some sudden, devilish impulse, do\r\nabominable things, criminal things, that they never meant to do? We\r\ndoctors pretend to be skeptical, but we all come up against creepy\r\nstuff, inside confession stuff that we don\'t talk about."\r\n\r\nHe was silent again.\r\n\r\n"There was a patient of mine in Chicago, a tough old rounder," Owen\r\nresumed, "who changed overnight into the straightest chap you ever heard\r\nof--because he went down to the edge of the Great Shadow--he was one of\r\nthe passengers saved from the Titanic. He told me that when he was\r\nstruggling there in the icy ocean, after the ship sank, _he saw white\r\nshapes hovering over the waters, holding up the drowning_! I never\r\nmentioned that until tonight."\r\n\r\nThey smoked without speaking.\r\n\r\n"I--I had an experience like that myself, sir," ventured Christopher.\r\n"I\'ve never spoken of it either--people would call me crazy, but--that\r\nnight when I lay out there in front of Montidier, among the dead and\r\ndying, I saw a white shape moving over the battlefields."\r\n\r\n"You did?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. It was the figure of a woman--coming towards me--she seemed\r\nto be leading Penelope. I saw her distinctly--she had a beautiful face."\r\n\r\nSilence again.\r\n\r\nDr. Leroy joined them presently and, on learning of Captain Herrick\'s\r\nplan, he made no objections to it, but said it would fail.\r\n\r\n"We are dealing with an evil power, gentlemen, that is far too clever to\r\nbe deceived by such a trick," he assured them; but Christopher was\r\nresolved to try.\r\n\r\nLeroy then described Seraphine\'s narrow escape and showed them the\r\nautomatic writing, the message from Penelope\'s mother, not the evil\r\nmessage; whereupon Christopher, in amazement, gave the corroborative\r\ntestimony of his battlefield experience. The psychologist nodded\r\ngravely.\r\n\r\nAt five minutes of twelve (correct time) Seraphine sent down word that\r\nMrs. Wells had awakened and was asking eagerly for Captain Herrick.\r\n\r\n"Go to her at once, my young friend," directed Leroy. "Do all you can to\r\nencourage her and make her happy. Tell her there is nothing to fear\r\nbecause her mother\'s pure soul is guarding her. Show her this message\r\nfrom her mother. And whatever happens do not let your own faith waver. I\r\nassure you our precautions are taken against everything. God bless you."\r\n\r\nWhen Christopher had gone, Leroy told Dr. Owen about the second\r\ncommunication in automatic writing which he had withheld from Captain\r\nHerrick.\r\n\r\n"This is undoubtedly from the evil spirit," he said, and he read it\r\naloud:\r\n\r\n"_I was one of many loosed upon earth when the war began. I rode\r\nscreaming upon clouds of poison gas. I danced over red battlefields. I\r\nentered one of the Gray ones, an officer, and revelled with him in\r\nravished villages. Then I saw Penelope going about on errands of mercy,\r\nI saw her beautiful body and the little spots on her soul that she did\r\nnot know about, and when her nerves were shattered, I entered into her.\r\nNow she is mine. I defy YOU to drive me out. Already her star burns\r\nscarlet through a mist of evil memories. I see it now as she sleeps! I\r\nshall come back tonight and make her dream._"\r\n\r\n"You see what we have against us," Leroy said, and his face was sad, yet\r\nfixed with a stern purpose.\r\n\r\nAnd now the old materialist asked anxiously, not scoffingly: "Doctor, do\r\nyou really believe that this spirit can drag Mrs. Wells down?"\r\n\r\n"That depends upon herself. Mrs. Wells knows what she must do. I have\r\ntold her. If she does this, she will be safe. If not--"\r\n\r\nHis eyes were inexpressibly tragic, and at this moment the neighboring\r\nchimes resounded musically through the quiet sanitarium--_a quarter to\r\ntwelve!_\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVII\r\n\r\nTHE HOUR OF THE DREAM\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen Seraphine led Captain Herrick into the bedroom where Penelope lay\r\npropped up against pillows, her dark hair in braids and a Chinese\r\nembroidered scarf brightening her white garment, it seemed to\r\nChristopher that his beloved had never been so adorably beautiful.\r\n\r\nGallantly and tenderly he kissed the slim white hand that his lady\r\nextended with a brave but pathetic smile.\r\n\r\nSeraphine withdrew discreetly.\r\n\r\nThe lovers were alone.\r\n\r\nIt was an oppressive night, almost like summer, and Penelope, concerned\r\nfor her sweetheart\'s comfort, insisted that he take off his heavy coat,\r\nand draw up an easy chair by her bedside.\r\n\r\nThey tried to talk of pleasant things--the lovely flowers he had sent\r\nher--how well she was looking--but it was no use. The weight of the\r\napproaching crisis was upon both of them.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Chris, how we go on pretending--up to the very last!" she lifted\r\nher eyes appealingly. "We know what has happened--what may happen,\r\nbut--" she drew in her breath sharply and a little shiver ran through\r\nher. "I--I\'m afraid."\r\n\r\nHe took her hand strongly in his and with all a lover\'s ardor and\r\ntenderness tried to comfort her. Then, rather clumsily, he showed her\r\nthe automatic writing, not quite sure whether to present this as a thing\r\nthat he believed in or not.\r\n\r\nPenelope studied the large, scrawled words.\r\n\r\n"How wonderful!" she murmured. "I remember vaguely writing something,\r\nbut I had no idea what it was. My mother! It must be true! It\'s her\r\nhandwriting. She was watching over us, dear--she is watching over us\r\nstill. That ought to give us courage, oughtn\'t it?"\r\n\r\nShe glanced nervously at the little gilt clock that was ticking quietly\r\nover the fireplace. Ten minutes to twelve!\r\n\r\n"What is this danger, that she speaks of, Chris? What is it--that you\r\nare carrying?"\r\n\r\nThe captain\'s answer was partly an evasion. He really did not know what\r\ndanger was referred to, unless it could be a small flask from the\r\nlaboratory with a gas specimen for Dr. Owen that he had left in the\r\nother room in his coat, but this was in a little steel container and\r\ncould do no harm.\r\n\r\n"It may mean some spiritual danger, Pen, from selfishness or want of\r\nfaith or--or something like that," he suggested. "I guess I am selfish\r\nand impatient--don\'t you think so?"\r\n\r\n"Impatient, Chris?"\r\n\r\n"I mean impatient for you to get well, impatient to take you far away\r\nfrom all these doctors and dreams, and just have you to myself. That\r\nisn\'t very wicked, is it, sweetheart?"\r\n\r\nHe stroked her hand fondly and looked deep into her wonderful eyes.\r\nPenelope sighed.\r\n\r\n"I--I suppose it will all be over soon--I mean we shall know what\'s\r\ngoing to happen, won\'t we?"\r\n\r\nIt was her first open reference to the peril hanging over them, and\r\nagain, involuntarily, she glanced at the clock. Five minutes to twelve!\r\nIt was really twenty-five minutes past twelve!--but she did not know\r\nthat.\r\n\r\n"Darling, I don\'t believe anything is going to happen. Our troubles are\r\nover. You are guarded by this beautiful love--all these prayers. I\'ve\r\nbeen saying prayers, myself, Pen--for both of us."\r\n\r\n"Dear boy!"\r\n\r\n"I want you to promise me one thing--you love me, don\'t you? No matter\r\nwhat happens, you love me?"\r\n\r\nHer eyes glowed on him.\r\n\r\n"Oh yes, with all my heart."\r\n\r\n"You\'re going to be my wife."\r\n\r\n"Ye--es, if--if--"\r\n\r\n"All right, we\'ll put down the _ifs_. I want you to promise that if this\r\nfoolish spell, or whatever it is, is broken tonight--if nothing happens\r\nat half-past twelve, and you don\'t have this bad dream, then you\'ll\r\nforget the whole miserable business and marry me tomorrow. There! Will\r\nyou?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, Chris! Tomorrow?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, tomorrow! I\'m not a psychologist or a doctor, but I believe I can\r\ncure you myself. Will you promise, Pen?"\r\n\r\nHer eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude and fondness.\r\n\r\n"You want me--anyway?"\r\n\r\n"Anyway."\r\n\r\n"Then I say--yes! I will! I will! Oh my love!" She drew him slowly down\r\nto her and kissed his eyes gently, her face radiant with sweetness and\r\npurity. A moment later the chimes rang out twelve.\r\n\r\nAs the minutes passed Christopher watched her in breathless but\r\nconfident expectation. The crisis had come and she was passing it--she\r\nhad passed it safely. They talked on fondly--five minutes, ten minutes,\r\nfifteen minutes, and still there were no untoward developments, no sign\r\nof anything evil or irrational. Penelope was her own adorable self. The\r\nspell was broken. Nothing had happened.\r\n\r\n"You see, it\'s all right?" he laughed. "You needn\'t be afraid any more."\r\n\r\n"Wait!" she looked at the clock. "Ten minutes yet!"\r\n\r\nHe longed to tell her that they had already passed the fatal moment,\r\npassed it by twenty minutes, but he restrained his ardor.\r\n\r\n"Chris, my love, if we are really to be married tomorrow--how wonderful\r\nthat seems!--I must have no secrets from you. What my mother said is\r\ntrue--a woman must cleanse her soul. I want to tell you something--for\r\nmy sake, not for yours--then we will never refer to it again."\r\n\r\n"But, Penelope--"\r\n\r\n"For my sake, Chris."\r\n\r\n"It isn\'t about that steamboat?"\r\n\r\n"It is, darling. I must tell it. Fix the pillows behind me. There! Sit\r\nclose to me--that\'s right. Now listen! This dream is a repetition of\r\nwhat happened on the boat. It would have been much better if I had told\r\nyou all about it long ago."\r\n\r\n"Why?"\r\n\r\nShe hesitated.\r\n\r\n"Because--it is not so much the memory of what I did that worries me, as\r\nthe fear that--you will be ashamed of me or--or hate me--when you know."\r\n\r\nHerrick saw that her cheeks were flushed, but at least her mind was\r\noccupied, he reflected, and the minutes were passing.\r\n\r\n"I could never be ashamed of you, Penelope."\r\n\r\n"If I were only sure of that," she sighed, then with a great effort, and\r\nspeaking low, sometimes scarcely lifting her eyes, she told her lover\r\nthe story of the Fall River steamboat.\r\n\r\nThe main point was that her husband, a coarse sensualist, whom she\r\ndespised, had, during the year preceding his death, accepted a _chambre\r\napart_ arrangement, that being the only condition on which Penelope\r\nwould continue to live with him, but, on the occasion of this journey\r\ndown from Newport, he had broken his promise and entered her stateroom.\r\n\r\n"It was an oppressive night, like this," she said, "and I had left the\r\ndeck door ajar, held on a hook. I was trying to sleep, when suddenly I\r\nsaw a man\'s arm pushed in through the opening. I shall never forget my\r\nfright, as I saw that black sleeve. Do you understand what I mean?\r\nLook!"\r\n\r\nGathering her draperies about her, Penelope sprang lightly out of bed\r\nand moved swiftly to the bedroom door, while Christopher, startled,\r\nfollowed the beauty of her sinuous form.\r\n\r\n"His arm came through--like this," she stepped outside the bedroom, and,\r\nreaching around the edge of the door showed her exquisite bare arm\r\nwithin. "See? Then my husband entered slowly and--as soon as I saw his\r\neyes," her agitation was increasing, "I knew what to expect. His face\r\nwas flushed. He had been drinking. He looked at me and--then he locked\r\nthe door--like this. I crouched away from him, I was frozen with terror,\r\nbut--but--" she twined her hands in distress. "Oh, you\'ll hate me! I\r\nknow you\'ll hate me!"\r\n\r\n"No!"\r\n\r\n"I tried so hard to resist him. I pleaded, I wept. I begged on my\r\nknees--like this."\r\n\r\n"Please--please don\'t," murmured Christopher, as he felt the softness of\r\nher supplicating body.\r\n\r\n"But Julian was pitiless. He caught me in his arms. I fought against\r\nhim. I struck him as I felt his loathsome kisses. I said I would scream\r\nfor help and--he laughed at me. Then--"\r\n\r\nShe stopped abruptly, leaving her confession unfinished, and, standing\r\nclose to her lover, held him fascinated by the wild appeal of her eyes\r\nand the heaving of her bosom.\r\n\r\nSuddenly Christopher\'s heart froze with terror. The dreaded change had\r\ncome. This glorious young creature whose glances thrilled him, whose\r\nflaunted beauty maddened him, was not Penelope any more, but _the\r\nother_, Fauvette, the temptress, the wanton.\r\n\r\n"Chris!" she stepped before him splendid in the intensity of her\r\nemotion. Her garment was disarranged, her beautiful hair spread over her\r\nwhite shoulders. She came close to him--closer--and clung to him.\r\n\r\n"Why--why did you lock that door?" he asked unsteadily.\r\n\r\n"I did not notice," she answered in pretended innocence, and he knew\r\nthat she was lying. "Do you mind, dear? Do you mind being alone with\r\nme?" Then, before he could answer, she offered her lips. "My love! My\r\nhusband! Kiss me!"\r\n\r\nIt was too much. He clasped her in his arms and held her. He knew his\r\ndanger, but forgot everything in the deliciousness of her embraces.\r\n\r\n"Penelope!"\r\n\r\nShe drew back in displeasure.\r\n\r\n"No! I\'m not Penelope. Look at me! Look!"\r\n\r\nWhat was it the soldier read in those siren eyes--what depths of\r\nallurement--what sublime degradation?\r\n\r\n"Fauvette!" he faltered.\r\n\r\n"Yes, your Fauvette. Say it!"\r\n\r\nHe said it, knowing that his power of resistance was breaking. He was\r\ngoing to yield to her, he could not help yielding. What did the\r\nconsequences matter? She was too beautiful.\r\n\r\nThen slowly, musically, the neighboring chimes resounded.\r\n\r\nA quarter to one!\r\n\r\nAnd Christopher remembered.\r\n\r\nGod! What should he do? He straightened from her with hands clenched and\r\neyes hardening.\r\n\r\nIn a flash she saw the change. She knew what he was thinking and pressed\r\nclose to him, offering again her red lips.\r\n\r\n"No!"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be a fool! You can save _her_, your goody-goody Penelope. It\'s\r\nthe only way. I will leave her alone, except occasionally--I swear I\r\nwill."\r\n\r\n"No! You\'re lying!" It seemed as if he repeated words spoken within him.\r\n\r\n"Lying?" Her eyes half closed over slumberous fires. "Do you think\r\nPenelope can ever love you as I can--as your Fauvette can? Share her\r\nwith me or--" she panted, "or you will lose her entirely. Penelope dies\r\ntomorrow night, you know that, unless--"\r\n\r\nFrantically she tried to encircle him with her arms, but Herrick\r\nrepulsed her. Some power beyond himself was strengthening him.\r\n\r\n"Oh!" she cried in fury, "you don\'t deserve to have a beautiful woman.\r\nVery well! This is the end!" She darted to the bedroom door and unlocked\r\nit. "Come! I\'ll show you."\r\n\r\nDeathly pale, she led the way into the sitting-room and, going to\r\nChristopher\'s coat, she drew out a small flask.\r\n\r\n"There! This is the danger she wrote about. _I know._ Spiritual danger!\r\nHa! I\'m going to open this. Yes, I am. You can\'t stop me."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t! It\'s death!"\r\n\r\nBut already she had unscrewed a metal stopper and drawn forth a small\r\nglass vial filled with a colorless liquid.\r\n\r\n"One step nearer, and I\'ll smash this on the floor!" she threatened. "If\r\nI can\'t have you, _she_ never shall!"\r\n\r\nThe captain faced her quietly, knowing well what was at stake.\r\n\r\n"Penelope!"\r\n\r\nShe stamped her foot. "I\'m not Penelope. I\'m Fauvette. I hate Penelope.\r\nFor the last time--will you do what I want?"\r\n\r\n"No!"\r\n\r\nShe lifted the vial.\r\n\r\n"Stop!" came a masterful voice, and, turning, they saw Dr. Leroy\r\nstanding in the outer doorway. Back of him were Seraphine and Dr. Owen.\r\n\r\n"Give that to me."\r\n\r\nThe psychologist advanced toward her slowly, holding out his hands.\r\nFauvette stared at him, trembling.\r\n\r\n"No! I\'ll throw it down."\r\n\r\nHis eyes blazed upon her. His outspread arms seemed to envelope her.\r\n\r\n"You cannot throw it down! Come nearer! Give it to me!"\r\n\r\nLike a frightened child she obeyed.\r\n\r\n"Now go into the bedroom! Lie down! Sleep!"\r\n\r\nAgain she obeyed, turning and walking slowly to the bed; but there she\r\npaused and said with scornful deliberateness: "You can drive me out\r\nnow, but I\'ll come back when she sleeps. I\'ll make her dream. Damn you!\r\nAnd tomorrow night--Ha! You\'ll see!"\r\n\r\nDr. Leroy\'s stern gaze did not falter, but compelled Penelope to go back\r\nto the couch, where almost immediately her tragic eyes closed in\r\nslumber.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVIII\r\n\r\nPLAYING WITH FIRE\r\n\r\n\r\nWhat happened on the last day, or rather the last night, of Mrs. Wells\'\r\npsychological crisis may be regarded either as a purely subjective\r\nphenomena, a dream or a startling experience of the soul, or as\r\nsomething that came from without, a telepathic or spiritualistic\r\nmanifestation. In any case note must be made of the testimony of Dr.\r\nWilliam Owen, an extremely rational person, that after midnight on this\r\noccasion he distinctly _saw_ scarlet lights moving about the darkened\r\nroom near Penelope\'s couch.\r\n\r\nThe patient passed the day quietly (after sleeping late) and was advised\r\nnot to see her lover, although Dr. Leroy did not insist upon this. Mrs.\r\nWells agreed, however, that any conversation with Christopher might be\r\nharmfully agitating, and was content to send him a loving message,\r\ntogether with a sealed communication that was not to be opened\r\nunless--unless things went badly.\r\n\r\n"Do you think I am going to pull through tonight, doctor?" she asked\r\ntremulously about three in the afternoon.\r\n\r\n"I am sure you will, Mrs. Wells, if you will only trust me and do what\r\nI have told you to do. Your fate is in your own hands--entirely."\r\n\r\nDr. Leroy spoke confidently, but she shook her head in distress of mind.\r\n\r\n"I wish I could believe what you say. I would give anything to feel sure\r\nthat my mother is watching over me, trying to come to me; but I can\'t\r\nbelieve it. If she wants to come, why doesn\'t she do it? Why didn\'t she\r\ncome to me last night when I needed her so terribly?"\r\n\r\n"Seraphine has told you why, she says the conditions are not right. Is\r\nthat so surprising? Take a telephone--you can\'t talk over it unless the\r\nconnections are right, can you? Take a telescope or a microscope--you\r\ncan see nothing through them unless the instruments are in focus, can\r\nyou? Take an automobile--it will not move an inch unless all the parts\r\nare properly adjusted, will it? You may have the finest photographic\r\ncamera in the world, yet you will get no picture unless you expose the\r\nsensitive plate in just the right way--isn\'t that true? Suppose a savage\r\nrefused to believe in photography, or in the telephone, or the\r\ntelescope, or in any of our great inventions, unless they would operate\r\naccording to the fancy of his ignorant mind, regardless of scientific\r\nlaws? What results would he get? The very same kind that we get in the\r\npsychic world if we refuse to obey psychic laws."\r\n\r\nThe fair patient moved wearily on her pillow with signs of increasing\r\ndiscouragement.\r\n\r\n"I have not refused to obey psychic laws, I don\'t know what the laws\r\nare. How can I believe in something that is entirely unknown to me? I\r\ncan\'t do it, I can\'t do it."\r\n\r\n"But, Mrs. Wells, when so much is at stake, when everything is at stake,\r\ncan\'t you take an open-minded attitude toward these mysteries? Why not\r\nsubmit to the indicated conditions and see what happens? If there is\r\nonly one chance in a hundred that your mother can really come to you and\r\nhelp you, why not take that chance? You believe that your mother is an\r\nexalted spirit, don\'t you?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes. I am sure she is."\r\n\r\n"You don\'t doubt that she would be glad to help you in your present\r\ntrouble, if she could, do you?"\r\n\r\n"No, of course not, but what can I do? I say my prayers, I try to have\r\ngood thoughts--what else can I do?"\r\n\r\nThe spiritual healer answered with sudden impressiveness.\r\n\r\n"Penelope, you must cleanse your soul of evil. There is something you\r\nare keeping back--perhaps you do not know what it is yourself. I can\r\nonly tell you to think, to look into the past, to search into your\r\nsoul--just as if you were coming before a great, wise, loving Judge who\r\ncannot be deceived. He wants you to confess something--I don\'t know what\r\nit is, you must find that out for yourself--but when you have confessed,\r\nI _know_ that help will come to you through your mother. Now close your\r\neyes. Don\'t speak. Think! Think of your mother."\r\n\r\nHe laid his hands gently on her forehead and for some minutes there was\r\nsilence.\r\n\r\n"Now I shall leave you alone. In an hour I will send Seraphine to you."\r\n\r\nThen he left her.\r\n\r\nAt four o\'clock Mrs. Walters came in with an armful of flowers from\r\nChristopher and the two women talked of indifferent things over their\r\ntea. Then they went for a drive in the park and Penelope returned\r\nblooming like a lovely rose; but not one word did she breathe of her\r\ndeeper thoughts. Seraphine waited.\r\n\r\nSeven o\'clock!\r\n\r\nAt last the barrier of pride and reserve began to crumble. Penelope\r\nturned to her old friend, trying at first to speak lightly, but her\r\ntroubled eyes told the story of tension within. Then came the\r\nconfession--in broken words. There were two things on her\r\nconscience--one that she had done, but it wasn\'t exactly her fault, one\r\nthat she did not do, but she meant to do it. She supposed that was a sin\r\njust the same.\r\n\r\nMrs. Walters smiled encouragingly.\r\n\r\n"It can\'t be so serious a sin, can it? Tell me everything, Pen."\r\n\r\nWith flaming cheeks the young widow told how she had meant to adopt a\r\nchild--in France--that would really have been--her own child. She did\r\nnot do this because she met Captain Herrick, but--she would have done\r\nit. The other thing was what happened on the Fall River steamboat--with\r\nJulian. On that tragic summer night, she had finally yielded to him\r\nand--_she had wanted to yield!_\r\n\r\nTo which Seraphine made the obvious reply: "Still, my dear, he was your\r\nhusband."\r\n\r\n"But I had sworn that never--never--it was so--ignoble! I despised him.\r\nThen I despised myself."\r\n\r\nThe medium listened thoughtfully.\r\n\r\n"You trust me, don\'t you, Pen? You know I want to do what is best for\r\nyou?" She passed her arm affectionately around her distressed friend.\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes. You have proved it, dearest. I\'ll never be able to repay your\r\nlove."\r\n\r\nMrs. Wells began to cry softly.\r\n\r\n"Please don\'t. We need all our courage, our intelligence. It doesn\'t\r\nmatter how wrong you have been in the past, if you are right in the\r\npresent. The trouble with you, dear child, is that you cannot see the\r\ntruth, although it is right under your eyes."\r\n\r\n"But I am telling the truth," Penelope protested tearfully. "I am not\r\nkeeping anything back."\r\n\r\n"You don\'t mean to keep anything back--but--"\r\n\r\nThe psychic\'s deep-set, searching eyes seemed to read into the soul of\r\nthe fair sufferer.\r\n\r\n"You showed me parts of your diary once--what you wrote in New York\r\nafter your husband died--before you went to France. There were four\r\nyears--you remember?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"How would you interpret those four years, Pen? You were not worried\r\nabout money--Julian left you enough to live on. You had no children, no\r\nresponsibilities. You were in splendid health and very beautiful. What\r\nwas in your mind most of the time? How did you get that idea of adopting\r\na child in France? It must have come gradually. How did it come? _Why_\r\ndid it come?"\r\n\r\n"Because I was--lonely."\r\n\r\n"Is that all? Think!"\r\n\r\nThere was silence.\r\n\r\n"Why did you dance so much during those four years?"\r\n\r\n"I like dancing. It\'s good exercise."\r\n\r\n"And all those allurements of dress--clinging skirts, low-cut waists, no\r\ncorsets--why was that?"\r\n\r\n"I hate corsets. I don\'t need them. I can\'t breathe in corsets."\r\n\r\n"And those insidious perfumes?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t see what that has to do with it."\r\n\r\n"Those are little indications. But take the main point, your desire to\r\nhave a child--of your own. Do you really love children, Pen? Have you\r\never shown that you do? Did you try to have children when you were\r\nmarried?"\r\n\r\n"Not _his_ children! God forbid!"\r\n\r\nSeraphine hesitated as if dreading to wound her friend.\r\n\r\n"I must go on, dear. We must get to the bottom of this. Suppose you had\r\ndone what you intended to do? And had come back to America with an\r\nadopted child? And suppose no one had ever known the truth, about it--do\r\nyou think you would have been happy?"\r\n\r\nPenelope sighed wearily.\r\n\r\n"Is a woman ever happy?"\r\n\r\n"Wait! Let us take one point. You have always loved men\'s society,\r\nhaven\'t you? That\'s natural, they\'re all crazy about you. Well, do you\r\nthink that would have changed just because you had a child? Do you?"\r\n\r\n"No--no, I suppose not."\r\n\r\n"You would have been just as beautiful. You would have gone on wearing\r\nexpensive clothes, wouldn\'t you? You would have kept up the old round of\r\nteas and dinners, theatres, dances, late suppers--with a train of men\r\ndangling after you--flirting men, married men--men who try to kiss women\r\nin taxicabs--you know what I mean?"\r\n\r\nPenelope bit her red lips at this sordid picture.\r\n\r\n"No," she said, "I don\'t think I would have done that. I would have\r\nchanged, I intended to change. That was why I wanted a child--to give me\r\nsomething worthy of my love, something to serve as an outlet for my\r\nemotions."\r\n\r\nThe medium\'s eyes were unfathomably sad and yearning.\r\n\r\n"Is that true, Pen? A child calls for ceaseless care--unselfishness. You\r\nknow that? Did you really long for a child in a spirit of unselfish\r\nlove? Did you?"\r\n\r\nBut Penelope was deaf to this touching appeal.\r\n\r\n"Certainly," she answered sharply. "I wanted a child to satisfy my\r\nemotional nature. What else do you think I wanted it for?"\r\n\r\nMrs. Walters\' face shone with ineffable tenderness.\r\n\r\n"That is what I want you to find out, my darling. When you have answered\r\nthat question I believe the barrier that keeps your dear mother away\r\nwill be removed. Now I am going to leave you to your own thoughts. God\r\nbless you!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAt ten o\'clock Dr. Leroy directed Mrs. Wells to prepare herself for the\r\nnight and told her she was to sleep in a different room, a large chamber\r\nthat had been made ready on the floor below. As Penelope entered this\r\nroom a dim light revealed some shadowy pieces of furniture and at the\r\nback a recess hung with black curtains. In this was a couch and two\r\nchairs and on the wall a familiar old print, "Rock of Ages," showing a\r\nwoman clinging to a cross in a tempest.\r\n\r\n"Please lie down, Mrs. Wells," said Leroy with cheerful friendliness.\r\n"You don\'t mind these electrics?"\r\n\r\nHe turned on a strong white light that shone down upon the patient and\r\nthrew the rest of the room into darkness. Then Penelope, exquisitely\r\nlovely in her white robe, stretched herself on the couch, while the\r\ndoctor and Seraphine seated themselves beside her.\r\n\r\n"This light will make you sleep better when I turn it off," explained\r\nthe physician. Then he added: "I will ask Dr. Owen to come in a little\r\nlater."\r\n\r\nEleven o\'clock!\r\n\r\nNot yet had the patient spoken and time was passing, the minutes that\r\nremained were numbered. Mrs. Walters essayed by appealing glances to\r\nopen the obstinately closed doors of Penelope\'s spiritual consciousness,\r\nbut it was in vain.\r\n\r\nHalf past eleven!\r\n\r\nThe spiritual healer rose, his face set with an unalterable purpose.\r\n\r\n"I will turn down the light, Mrs. Wells," he said quietly. "I want you\r\nto compose yourself. Remember that God is watching over you. You are\r\nGod\'s child. He will guard you from all evil. Hold that thought strongly\r\nas you go to sleep."\r\n\r\nPenelope closed her eyes. Her face was deathly pale in the shadows. The\r\nminutes passed.\r\n\r\n"I--I am afraid to go to sleep," the sufferer murmured, and her hands\r\nopened and closed nervously as if they were clutching at something.\r\n\r\n"Think of your mother, dear," soothed Seraphine. "Her pure spirit is\r\nnear you, trying to come nearer. _Oh God, keep Penelope, Thy loving\r\nchild, under the close guardianship of her mother\'s exalted spirit in\r\nthis her hour of peril._"\r\n\r\nTwelve o\'clock by the musical, slow-chiming bells!\r\n\r\nThen at last Penelope spoke, her face transfigured with spiritual light\r\nand beauty.\r\n\r\n"Doctor,--I--I know I have only a few minutes," she began haltingly, but\r\nalmost immediately became calm, as if some new strength or vision had\r\nbeen accorded her. "I realize that my troubles have come from\r\nselfishness and--sensuality. I have deceived myself. I blamed my husband\r\nfor encouraging these desires in me, but--I knew what kind of a man my\r\nhusband was before I married him. There was another man, a much finer\r\nman, who asked me to be his wife, but I refused him because--in a way\r\nI--wanted the kind of husband that--my husband was."\r\n\r\nShe went on rapidly, speaking in a low tone but distinctly:\r\n\r\n"In the years after my husband\'s death I was--playing with fire. I\r\ncraved admiration. I wanted to go as near the danger point--with men--as\r\nI dared. I deceived myself when I said I wanted a child--of my own--to\r\nsatisfy my emotional nature. What I really wanted was an\r\nexcuse--to--give myself--to a man."\r\n\r\nSome power beyond herself upheld the penitent in this hard ordeal. Her\r\neyes remained fixed on the Cross to which she seemed to cling in spirit\r\neven as the woman pictured there clung to the Cross with outstretched\r\narms.\r\n\r\nThere was an impressive silence, then the spiritual teacher, his voice\r\nvibrant with tenderness and faith, spoke these words of comfort:\r\n\r\n"Penelope, you have cleansed your soul. You can sleep without fear. When\r\nyour dream begins you will know that the powers of love are guarding\r\nyou. You are God\'s child. No harm can befall you, for you will reach out\r\nto the Cross, _you will reach out to the Cross_!"\r\n\r\n"Yes," she murmured faintly. Her eyelids fluttered and closed. She drew\r\na long sigh of relief, then her breathing became regular and her face\r\ntook on an expression of lovely serenity. She was sleeping.\r\n\r\nAnd then the dream!\r\n\r\nPenelope was in that tragic stateroom once more. She heard the throb of\r\nengines and sounds on the deck overhead--the echoing beat of footsteps,\r\nwhile the steady swish of the waters came in through the open window.\r\nShe turned restlessly on her wide brass bed trying to sleep.\r\n\r\nHow oppressive was the night! She looked longingly at the stateroom\r\ndoor which she had fixed ajar on its hook. If she could only go out\r\nwhere the fresh breezes were blowing and spread her blanket on the\r\ndeck--what a heavenly relief!\r\n\r\nPenelope sat up against her pillows and looked out over the sighing\r\nwaters illumined by an August moon. In the distance she watched the\r\nflashes of a lighthouse and counted the seconds between them....\r\n\r\nSuddenly she froze with terror at the sight of a black sleeve, a man\'s\r\narm, pushed in cautiously through the door, and a moment later Julian\r\nentered. She saw him plainly in the moonlight. He wore a dinner coat. He\r\nlooked handsome but dissipated. His face was flushed, his dress\r\ndisordered. He came to her bed and caught her in his arms. He kissed\r\nher. He drew her to him, close to him. She remembered the perfume of his\r\nhair. He said she belonged to him. He was not going to let her go.\r\nPromises did not matter--nothing mattered. This was a delicious summer\r\nnight and--\r\n\r\n"_Oh God, let Thy love descend upon Penelope and strengthen her_,"\r\nprayed Seraphine, kneeling by the couch.\r\n\r\nThe dream moved on relentlessly toward its inevitable catastrophe.\r\nPenelope tried to resist the intruder, but she knew it was in vain. She\r\nwept, protested, pleaded, but she knew that presently she would be swept\r\nin a current of fierce desire, she would wish to surrender, she would be\r\nincapable of _not_ surrendering.\r\n\r\n"_Oh God, let the spirit of the mother come close to her imperilled\r\nchild_," prayed Seraphine.\r\n\r\nIn her dream Penelope was yielding. She had ceased to struggle. She was\r\nclasped in her husband\'s arms and already was turning willing and\r\nresponsive lips to his, when her eyes fell upon the porthole, through\r\nwhich the distant lighthouse was sending her a message--it seemed like a\r\nmessage of love and encouragement. She saw the mighty shaft towering\r\nserenely above dark rocks and crashing waters, and watched it change\r\nwith beautiful gradations of light into a rugged cross to which a woman\r\nwas clinging desperately. The waves beat against her, the winds buffeted\r\nher, but she cried to God for help and--then, as she slept Penelope\r\nrecalled Dr. Leroy\'s words and, still dreaming, stretched out her hands\r\nto the Cross, praying with all her strength that her sins might be\r\nforgiven, that her soul might be cleansed, that she might be saved from\r\nevil by the power of God\'s love.\r\n\r\nInstantly the torture of her dream was relieved. The brutal arms that\r\nhad clasped her fell away. The ravisher, cheated of his victim, drew\r\nback scowling and slowly faded from her view, while from a distance a\r\nwhite figure with countenance radiant and majestic approached swiftly\r\nand Penelope knew it was the pure spirit of her mother coming to save\r\nher, and presently on her brow she felt a kiss of rapturous healing.\r\n\r\n"My child!" came the dream words, perfectly distinct, although they were\r\nunspoken. "God will bless you and save you."\r\n\r\nPenelope smiled in her sleep and her soul was filled with inexpressible\r\npeace.\r\n\r\n"_I saw the mother\'s exalted spirit hovering over her child_," Seraphine\r\nwrote of this clairvoyant vision. "_I saw the evil entity, leering\r\nhideously, go out of Penelope in a glow of scarlet light. I knew that\r\nthe wicked dream was broken. My darling was saved._"\r\n\r\nAn hour passed, during which the two doctors and the medium watched\r\nanxiously by the sleeping patient.\r\n\r\nFinally the young woman stirred naturally and opened her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Dr. Leroy!" she cried joyfully. "It is true--what you said. It\r\nstopped--the dream stopped. And my mother came to me in my sleep. She\r\nkissed me. She blessed me. Oh!" Penelope glanced eagerly about the room.\r\n\r\nLeroy greeted her with grave kindness.\r\n\r\n"Your troubles are all over, Mrs. Wells. You need never have any more of\r\nthese fears."\r\n\r\n"Is that really true?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, I am quite sure of what I say."\r\n\r\n"How wonderful!"\r\n\r\nHe bowed gravely.\r\n\r\n"God\'s love is very wonderful."\r\n\r\nAgain the radiant eyes seemed to search for some one. Penelope glanced\r\nappealingly at Seraphine.\r\n\r\n"I understand, dear," beamed Mrs. Walters. "He is waiting outside. He\r\nwill be so happy," and a moment later Christopher entered.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIX\r\n\r\nPRIDE\r\n\r\n\r\n(_Fragments from Penelope\'s Diary_)\r\n\r\n_Paris, Three Months Later._\r\n\r\nIt is three months since I wrote this diary, three lonely months since I\r\nsaid good-bye to Christopher, or rather wrote good-bye, for I should\r\nnever have had the courage to leave him, if I had tried to give him my\r\nreasons--face to face. I have never seen him or heard from him since\r\nthat terrible night at Dr. Leroy\'s when the evil cloud was lifted from\r\nmy soul and I knew and remembered--_everything!_\r\n\r\nI have never heard from Seraphine. They do not even know where I am,\r\nthey must not know--that is part of my plan, but it is frightfully hard.\r\nI pray for strength to be reconciled to my life of loneliness and to\r\nfind comfort in good works; but the strength has not come to me. Every\r\nday I think of Christopher and the separation from him grows harder and\r\nharder. Life is not worth living.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI am perfectly sane and normal, just as I was before my hallucinations.\r\nNo more voices, or fears, or wicked dreams. Sometimes I wish I could\r\ndream of Christopher; but I never do, I never dream of anything. I\r\nsuppose I should be grateful for that and glad that my cure is so\r\ncomplete. Oh, dear!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI wear myself out at the dispensary for poor French children and try my\r\nbest to smile and be cheerful and to interest myself in their pitiful\r\nneeds and sorrows; but my heart is not in this work and my smiles are\r\nforced. Many nights I cry myself to sleep.\r\n\r\nAnd yet I did right. I go over it all in my mind and I see that I did\r\nright. There was nothing else for me to do. I had to decide for both of\r\nus, and I decided. I thought of those dreadful things that I did,\r\nand--meant to do--those things that neither Christopher nor I can\r\npossibly forget ... how could Christopher ever have confidence in me as\r\nhis wife? How could we ever be happy together with those memories\r\nbetween us?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI try to remember the exact words that I wrote to my lover that morning\r\nwhen I went away. I hope I did not make him suffer too much. But of\r\ncourse he suffered--he must have. I told him we could not see each other\r\nany more, or write to each other, or--anything. I knew I would have been\r\ntoo weak to resist the call of my love and he would have been too fine,\r\ntoo chivalrous, to let me go. He would have said: "You are cured now,\r\ndear" (which I really am) "and there is no reason why we should not be\r\nmarried--" which is true, except that he would always have had the fear,\r\ndeep down in his heart, that I might relapse into what I had been. How\r\ncould a high-minded man like Chris bear the thought that the woman he\r\nloved, the woman who was to be the mother of his children, had acted\r\nlike a wanton? He could not bear it. It is evident that I did right.\r\n\r\n_And yet--_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI often wonder what another woman would have done in my place. She loves\r\na man as I loved Christopher--as I love him still. She is proud, she has\r\nalways been admired, she cannot bear the thought of being pitied. And\r\nsuddenly she learns that she has disgraced herself, she has violated the\r\nsacred traditions of modesty that restrain all women. She has acted like\r\nan abandoned woman towards the man she worships. God! It is true she has\r\ndone this without knowing it, without being responsible for it, but she\r\nhas done it, and that ineffaceable memory will always shame her, if she\r\nbecomes his wife. Day after day she will read it in his eyes, in his\r\nreticencies, in his efforts to be cheerful--she will know that he\r\nremembers--_what she was!_\r\n\r\nNO! She could not bear it, no woman with any pride could bear it.\r\n\r\nPride!\r\n\r\nWhat is pride? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Would I be a finer\r\nwoman if I could endure this humiliation and gracefully accept\r\nforgiveness? I suppose some women would take it all simply, like a\r\ngrateful patient cured of an illness. Alas! that is not my nature.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHow little we know ourselves! We all wear masks of one kind or another\r\nthat hide our true personalities even from ourselves. How will a woman\r\nact in sudden peril? In a moral crisis? In the face of shattering\r\ndisgrace? Let the most beautiful wife and mother realize that some\r\npainful chapter in her life is to be opened to the world--what price\r\nwill she not pay to avert this scandal?\r\n\r\nJulian had a friend who on a certain night stood before a locked door\r\nwith an officer of the law. His wife was on the other side of that\r\ndoor--with a companion in dishonor. The husband was armed. He was\r\nabsolutely within his rights. They broke down the door. _And then_--\r\n\r\nNot one of those tragic three could have told in advance what would\r\nhappen when that door crashed in. As a matter of fact the woman alone\r\nwas calm--coldly calm.\r\n\r\n"Yes," she said, "I am guilty. Now shoot! Why don\'t you shoot? You are\r\nafraid to shoot!"\r\n\r\nWhich was true.\r\n\r\nThe husband was afraid; and the lover was more afraid; it was the erring\r\nwife who cut the best figure. But who could have foreseen this\r\nd\xc3\xa9nouement?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter all I only did those abominable things because I was ill--when I\r\nwas not myself; whereas now I am well, and the evil has passed from me.\r\nBesides, I only showed that wicked side of my nature to Christopher,\r\nthrough my love; it is inconceivable that I could ever have acted that\r\nway with another man. Christopher knows that. He knows there is no\r\npossible doubt about that. How much difference does this knowledge make\r\nto him--I wonder.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI am going to leave Paris. I am too unhappy here. It seems there is a\r\ngreat need for nurses at Lourdes--that strange miracle place where\r\npilgrims go to be healed--and I have volunteered for service. If the\r\nsick are really cured by miracles I don\'t see why they need nurses; but\r\nnever mind that. It will give me a change and I may see some unfortunate\r\nmen and women who are worse off than I am. Oh, if God would only work a\r\nmiracle so that I can have Christopher and make him happy! But that can\r\nnever be. Why not? Why do I say that after what has happened to me? Was\r\nit not a miracle that saved me from those hideous evils? Then why not\r\nother miracles?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_At Lourdes. Two Weeks Later._\r\n\r\nSpeaking of miracles, I am living among them. I am working in the\r\n_Bureau de Constatations_ where the _miracul\xc3\xa9s_--those who are supposed\r\nto have been miraculously healed--are questioned and examined by\r\ndoctors, Catholics, Protestants, Agnostics, Atheists, who come from all\r\nover the world to investigate these cures from the standpoint of a\r\nreligion or pure science. What sights I have seen! Men and women of all\r\nages and walks of life testifying that the waters of the sacred grotto\r\nhave freed them from this or that malady, from tumors, lameness,\r\ndeafness, blindness, tuberculosis, nervous trouble and numerous other\r\nafflictions. By thousands and tens of thousands these unfortunates crowd\r\nhere from the four corners of the earth, an endless procession of\r\nbelievers, and every year sees scores of the incurable cured, instantly\r\ncured--even the sceptical admit this, although they interpret the facts\r\ndifferently. Some say it is auto-suggestion, others speak of mass\r\nhypnotism, others regard it as a scientific phenomenon not yet\r\nunderstood like the operation of the X-rays. And many wise men are\r\nsatisfied with the simple explanation that it is the work of God,\r\nmanifested today for those who have faith exactly as in Bible times.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI was stabbed with poignant memories this afternoon when a tall\r\nblack-bearded peasant told the doctors that his father, who accompanied\r\nhim, and who had been insane, a violent neurasthenic, shut up in an\r\nasylum for four years, had been restored by the blessed waters to\r\nperfect health and had shown no abnormality of body or mind for eight\r\nyears. These statements were verified by scientists and doctors.\r\n\r\nEight years! If I really believe in the permanent recovery of this poor\r\nman, as the doctors do, why am I doubtful about my own permanent\r\nrecovery? The answer is that I am not doubtful for myself, but for\r\nChristopher. He might reason like this, he might say to himself--he is\r\nso loyal that he would die rather than say it to me: "I know Penelope\r\nhas been restored to her normal condition of mind, but that normal\r\ncondition includes a strong inherited and developed tendency\r\ntowards--certain things,"--my cheeks burn with shame as I write this.\r\n"How do I know that this tendency in her, even if she remains herself,\r\nwill not make trouble again--for both of us?"\r\n\r\nHow could Christopher be sure about this?\r\n\r\n_He could not be sure!_\r\n\r\nSo I did right to leave him.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XX\r\n\r\nTHE MIRACLE\r\n\r\n\r\n(_From Penelope\'s Diary_)\r\n\r\n_Lourdes. A Week Later._\r\n\r\nToday, with a multitude of the afflicted, I bathed in the _piscine_, a\r\nlong trough filled with holy water from the grotto. The water was cold\r\nand not very clean (for hours it had received bodies carrying every\r\ndisease known to man), but as I lay there, wrapped in a soaking apron\r\nand immersed to the head, I felt an indescribable peace possessing my\r\nsoul. Was it the two priests who held my hands and encouraged me with\r\nkindly eyes? Was it the shouts and rejoicings, the continual prayers of\r\npilgrims all about me? Or was it a sudden overwhelming sense of my own\r\nunworthiness, of my ingratitude and lack of faith and a rush of new\r\ndesire to begin my life all over again, to forget my selfish repining?\r\nWhatever it was I know that as I arose from the bath and bowed before\r\nthe statue of the Blessed Virgin, I was caught by a spiritual fervor\r\nthat seemed to lift me in breathless ecstasy.\r\n\r\nA young woman who was blind stood beside me, splashing water from a hand\r\nbasin upon her reddened, sightless eyelids, and praying desperately.\r\nTogether with her I prayed as I never had prayed, crying the words\r\naloud, over and over again, as she did, while tears poured down my\r\ncheeks:\r\n\r\n"_Oh, Marie, con\xc3\xa7ue sans p\xc3\xa9ch\xc3\xa9, priez pour nous qui avons recours \xc3\xa0\r\nvous!_"\r\n\r\nAs I came away and started back to the _Bureau_, walking slowly under\r\nthe blazing Pyrenees sun, I knew that an extraordinary change had taken\r\nplace in me. I was not the same woman any more. I would never again be\r\nthe same woman. I was like the child I knew about that had been\r\nmiraculously cured of infantile paralysis; or like the widow I had\r\nspoken to who had been miraculously cured of a fistula in the arm that\r\nhad been five times vainly operated upon; or like the old woman I had\r\nseen who had been miraculously cured of an "incurable" tumor that had\r\ncaused her untold suffering for twenty-two years. I was a _miracul\xc3\xa9e_,\r\nlike these others, hundreds of others, one more case that would be\r\ncarefully noted down by skeptical investigators on their neatly ruled\r\nsheets, _if only the mysteries of a sick soul could be revealed_!\r\n\r\nSuddenly a great burst of singing drew my attention to the open space\r\nbeyond the gleaming white church with its sharp-pointed towers, and I\r\ndrew nearer, pushing my way through a dense multitude gathered to\r\nwitness the procession of pilgrims and the Blessing of the Sick. In all\r\nthe world there is no such sight as this, nothing that can stir the\r\nhuman soul so deeply. Inside the concourse, fringing the great crowds,\r\nlay the afflicted--on litters, on reclining chairs, on blankets spread\r\nover the ground; standing and kneeling, men, women and children from all\r\nlands and of all stations, pallid-faced, emaciated, suffering, dying,\r\nbrought here to supplicate for help when all other help has failed them.\r\n\r\n"_Seigneur, nous vous adorons!_" chanted a priest with golden voice and\r\nten thousand tongues responded:\r\n\r\n"_Seigneur, nous vous adorons!_"\r\n\r\n"_Jesus, Fils de Marie, ayez pitie de nous!_" came the inspired cry.\r\n\r\n"_Jesus, Fils de Marie, ayez pitie de nous!_" crashed the answer.\r\n\r\n"_Hosanna! Hosanna au Fils de David!_"\r\n\r\n"_Hosanna! Hosanna au Fils de David!_" thundered the multitude, and the\r\ncalm hills resounded.\r\n\r\nIt was an immense, an indescribable moment, not to be resisted. I felt\r\nmyself literally in the presence of God, and choking, almost dying with\r\nemotion, I waited for what was to come.\r\n\r\nSuddenly at the far end of the crowd a great shouting started and spread\r\nlike a powder-train, with a violent clapping of hands.\r\n\r\n"A miracle! A miracle!" the cries proclaimed.\r\n\r\nThey told me afterwards that five miraculous cures were accomplished at\r\nthis moment, but I knew nothing about it. My eyes were closed. I had\r\nfallen to my knees in the dust and was sobbing my heart out, not in\r\ngrief but in joy, for _I knew_ that all was well with me now and would\r\nbe in the days to come. I knew that Christopher would be restored to me,\r\nand that I would be allowed to make him happy. There would be no more\r\ndoubt or fear in either of us--only love. _I knew this!_\r\n\r\nAs I knelt there filled with a spirit of infinite faith and serenity, it\r\nseemed as if, above the tumult of the crowd, I heard my name spoken\r\ngently--"Penelope!"\r\n\r\nI knew, of course, that it could not be a real voice, for I was a\r\nstranger here, yet there was nothing disturbing to me in this illusion.\r\nIt came rather like a comforting benediction, as if some higher part of\r\nme had inwardly expressed approval of my prayerful aspirations, and had\r\nconfirmed my belief that Christopher would be restored to me.\r\n\r\n"Penelope!" the voice spoke again, this time with unmistakable\r\ndistinctness, and now I opened my eyes and saw Seraphine standing before\r\nme.\r\n\r\n"Seraphine! Where did you come from? I thought you were in America--in\r\nNew York."\r\n\r\nSmiling tenderly she helped me to my feet and led me away from the\r\nmultitude.\r\n\r\n"Let us go where we can talk quietly," she said.\r\n\r\n"We will go to the hospice, where I am staying," I replied, not\r\nmarvelling very much, but more than ever filled with the knowledge that\r\nGod was guiding and protecting me.\r\n\r\n"This has been a wonderful day for me, Seraphine," I told her when we\r\ncame to my room, "the most wonderful day in my whole life."\r\n\r\n"I know, dear," she answered calmly, as if nothing could surprise her\r\neither.\r\n\r\nThen I explained everything that had happened--why I had left America so\r\nsuddenly, why I had felt that I must never see Christopher again.\r\n\r\n"But you don\'t feel that way any more?" she asked me with a look of\r\nstrange understanding in her deep eyes.\r\n\r\n"No," said I, "everything is changed now. My fears are gone. I see that\r\nI must count upon Christopher to have the same faith and courage that I\r\nhave in my own heart. Why should I expect to bear the whole burden of\r\nour future? He must bear his part of it. The responsibility goes with\r\nthe love, doesn\'t it? I saw that this afternoon--it came to me like a\r\nflash when the procession passed. Isn\'t it wonderful?\r\n\r\n"Dear child, the working of God\'s love for His children is always\r\nwonderful. This is a place of miracles"--she paused as if searching into\r\nmy soul--"and the greatest miracle is yet to come."\r\n\r\nI felt the color flooding to my cheeks.\r\n\r\n"What do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"I must go back a little, Penelope, and tell you something important.\r\nYou haven\'t asked about Captain Herrick."\r\n\r\n"Is he--is he well?" I stammered.\r\n\r\nShe shook her head ominously.\r\n\r\n"No. He is far from well. You did not realize, dear, what an effect that\r\nletter of yours would have upon him. It was a mortal blow."\r\n\r\nI tried to speak, but I could not; my bosom rose and fell with quick\r\nlittle gasping breaths, as if I was suffocating.\r\n\r\n"There was no particular illness," my friend continued, "just a general\r\nfading away, a slow discouragement. He had no interest in anything, and\r\nabout a month ago Doctor Owen told me the poor fellow would not live\r\nlong unless we could find you."\r\n\r\n"Oh, if I had only known! If I had dreamed that he would care so--so\r\nmuch," I sobbed. "How--how did you find me?"\r\n\r\nSeraphine answered with that far-away, mystic look in her eyes: "It was\r\nyour mother, dear--she told me we must go to Lourdes, she said it quite\r\ndistinctly, she said we must sail that very week, or it would be too\r\nlate--and we did sail."\r\n\r\nI stared at her with widening, frightened eyes.\r\n\r\n"Seraphine! You don\'t mean that--that Christopher is--here?" I cried.\r\n\r\nThe clairvoyant bowed her head slowly.\r\n\r\n"He is here, at the hotel, but he is very ill. He took cold on the ship\r\nand--it got worse. He has pneumonia."\r\n\r\n"Oh!" I breathed. I could feel my lips go white.\r\n\r\n"The doctor is with him now, and a trained nurse. I left them to search\r\nfor you. I knew I should find you--somewhere."\r\n\r\nI rose quickly and caught my companion\'s arm.\r\n\r\n"Come! We must go to him."\r\n\r\n"No! You cannot see him until tomorrow. This is the night of the\r\ncrisis."\r\n\r\n"Please!" I begged.\r\n\r\n"No! You must wait here. I will send you word." Then she left me.\r\n\r\nHour after hour I waited at the hospice, knowing that Seraphine would\r\nkeep her promise and send me some message. At about nine o\'clock a\r\nlittle boy came with a note saying that I must come at once.\r\nChristopher was worse.\r\n\r\nAs we hurried through the square, the whole place was ablaze with\r\nlights, the church itself outlined fantastically in electric fires,\r\nwhile great crowds of chanting pilgrims moved in slow procession, each\r\nman or woman carrying a torch or lantern or shaded candle and all\r\nlifting their voices in that everlasting cry of faith and worship:\r\n\r\n _Ave, Ave, Ave, Maria!\r\n Ave, Ave, Ave, Maria!_\r\n\r\nUntil the day of my death I shall hear that thunderous chorus sounding\r\nin my ears whenever memory turns back my thoughts to this fateful night.\r\n\r\nSeraphine met me at the door of the chamber where Christopher lay,\r\nfeverish and delirious. A French doctor, with pointed beard, watched by\r\nthe patient gravely, while a sad-eyed nurse held his poor feet huddled\r\nin her arms in an effort to give them warmth. Already the life forces\r\nwere departing from my beloved.\r\n\r\nThe doctor motioned me silently to a chair, but I came forward and sat\r\non the bed, and bending over my dear one, I called to him fondly:\r\n\r\n"Chris! It\'s Penelope! Oh, my dear, my dear! Don\'t you know me?" I\r\npleaded.\r\n\r\nBut there was no answer, no recognition.\r\n\r\nAn hour passed, two hours and still there was no indication that my dear\r\nChristopher realized that I was near him, bending over him, praying for\r\nhim. He turned uneasily in his fever and now and then cried out with a\r\ngreat effort in his delirium; but he never spoke my name or made any\r\nreference to his love for me. It was heartbreaking to be there beside\r\nhim and yet to feel myself so far away from him.\r\n\r\nAt about eleven the doctor saw that a change was coming and warned me\r\nthat there would be a lucid interval which would precede the final\r\ncrisis.\r\n\r\n"Within an hour we shall know what to expect," he said. "Either your\r\nfriend will begin to improve--his heart action will be stronger, his\r\nbreathing easier, or--he will sink into a state of coma and--" the\r\ndoctor finished his sentence with an ominous gesture. "You must have\r\ncourage, dear lady. The balance of his life may be turned by you--either\r\nway. It will be a shock for him to see you here, a great shock. I cannot\r\ntell how that shock may affect him. It may save him, it may destroy him.\r\nNo man of science in my place would take the responsibility of saying to\r\nyou that you must or must not show yourself to this man at this moment.\r\nYou must take the responsibility for yourself--and for him."\r\n\r\n"I understand, doctor," I said. "I will take the responsibility."\r\n\r\nAgain we waited in anguished silence, and soon the change came just as\r\nthe doctor said it would. Christopher\'s eyes opened naturally and I saw\r\nthat the glassy stare had gone out of them. He knew where he was, he\r\nknew what he was saying, he would recognize me, if he saw me; but I drew\r\nback into the shadows of the room where I could watch him without being\r\nseen. I wanted to think what I must do.\r\n\r\nChristopher beckoned Seraphine and the doctor to come close to him.\r\n\r\n"I want you to write something for me," he said in weak tones but quite\r\ndistinctly to Seraphine. "I may not come out of this. I--I don\'t care\r\nvery much whether I do or not, but--get some paper--please--and a\r\npencil. The most important thing is about my money--all that I\r\nhave--everything in the world, understand? I--I leave it all to the only\r\nwoman I have ever loved--or ever could love--Penelope Wells."\r\n\r\nWhen he had said this he settled back on the pillow and breathed heavily\r\nbut with a certain sense of relief, as if his mind was now at rest. I\r\nbit my lip until my teeth cut into it to keep myself from crying out.\r\n\r\n"You are both witnesses to this--to what I have said--you\'ve written it\r\ndown?" he looked at Seraphine and the doctor who nodded gravely.\r\n\r\n"You must find Penelope and tell her that--that she made a mistake to go\r\naway. I understand why she did it, but it was a mistake. Tell her I said\r\nthat we all of us have a whole lot to be sorry for and we must not only\r\nask to be forgiven, but we must be glad to accept the forgiveness of\r\nothers for--for whatever we have done that is wrong, and we must believe\r\nthat they are sincere in forgiving us. Tell her that I would have been\r\nglad to--to forgive her for--for everything."\r\n\r\nHis strength was evidently failing and the doctor told him that he had\r\nbetter not try to talk any more. But Christopher smiled in that quaint\r\nbrave way that I knew so well and lifted his thin white hands in\r\nprotest.\r\n\r\n"Just one thing more--please. It won\'t make any particular difference,\r\ndoc, and I want to say it. I want you to be sure to tell her this--write\r\nit down. Tell her two things. One is that there isn\'t any argument about\r\nmy loving her because I am dying for her--now--that\'s a fact. There\r\nisn\'t anything else I want to live for if I can\'t have Penelope. The\r\nother thing is that--" He paused as a violent spasm of coughing shook\r\nhis wasted body, and again the doctor told him to be quiet, but he gave\r\nno heed.\r\n\r\n"The other thing is--be sure to tell her this--that I would sooner have\r\nlived with Penelope--I don\'t care how many devils she was possessed\r\nwith--than with all the saints in the calendar. I loved her--" He\r\nstruggled to raise himself and then lifting his voice in a supreme\r\neffort, "I loved her good or bad. I--I couldn\'t help loving her.\r\nThere--that\'s all. Let me sign it."\r\n\r\nThis was too much for me. As I saw my dear love tracing his name with\r\npainful strokes, I could control myself no longer and rushed out of the\r\ndarkness to him, feeling that I must cry out wildly against his leaving\r\nme. I must fight the grim shadows that were enveloping him. I must keep\r\nhim for myself by the fierce power of my love.\r\n\r\nJust then a great glare from the torches filled the chamber and\r\nChristopher\'s eyes met mine. I stood speechless, choked with emotion,\r\nand as I tried to force my will against these obstacles of weakness, the\r\ncry of the pilgrims resounded from the streets below, a vast\r\nsoul-stirring cry:\r\n\r\n"_Hosanna! hosanna au fils de David!_"\r\n\r\nAt this I fell on my knees by the bedside and buried my face in my\r\nhands. I realized suddenly that it was not for me to dispute God\'s will\r\neven for this life that was so dear to me, even for our great love. Once\r\nmore I must fight my selfish pride and yield everything into God\'s\r\nkeeping for better or for worse. But with all my soul I prayed, not\r\ndaring to look up: "Dear God, save him! Give him back to me."\r\n\r\nThen I felt Christopher\'s hand on my head, resting there lovingly.\r\n\r\n"Penelope!" he said.\r\n\r\n"Chris!"\r\n\r\nDown in the street the lines of fire swept past in a molten sea while\r\nthe roar of worshipping voices came up to me:\r\n\r\n"_Hosanna! hosanna au fils de David!_"\r\n\r\nAnd still I prayed, with my head buried in my arms: "Save him! Dear God,\r\nsave him and give him back to me!"\r\n\r\n_And God did._\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXI\r\n\r\nTHE TRUTH ABOUT WOMEN THAT NOBODY TELLS\r\n\r\n\r\n(_Extracts from Penelope\'s Diary_)\r\n\r\n_Two Years Later._\r\n\r\nA woman who has been saved, as I have been, from a fate worse than death\r\nmust be grateful, and ready to show her gratitude by helping others,\r\nespecially other women. I have a message of hope for those who have\r\nheard the Voices, for those who have gone down into the Black Valley,\r\nwhere I was--_they can come back into the sunshine of happiness. The\r\npowers of Light are stronger than the powers of Darkness, and Love\r\nconquers Fear always in those who cleanse their souls of evil._\r\n\r\nAnd I have a warning for thousands and tens of thousands of women who\r\nhave not yet glimpsed the Gates of Despair, but are drifting towards\r\nthem and will surely pass through them, as I did, unless they understand\r\nthe perils that surround and beset their lives.\r\n\r\nWith my husband\'s assistance and approval, I have selected from my diary\r\nparts that bear on the emotional problems of women today. Christopher\r\nsays I have told the truth about women that nobody tells, and he wants\r\nme to make it known, so that others, being enlightened, may avoid the\r\nmistakes I made and be spared the consequences of these mistakes. Dear\r\nChris! His judgment encourages me, and yet--\r\n\r\nHow fully shall I speak, so that my words may do good, not harm?\r\n\r\nI can only have faith in my honesty of purpose, and hold to my belief\r\nthat, in spite of my limitations, I have a message to deliver that will\r\nbe helpful. Yes, I must deliver this message. God will not allow so\r\nsincere a motive to fail. Perhaps the reason for all my sufferings and\r\nmistakes, the reason for my existence was that I should deliver this\r\nmessage.\r\n\r\n\r\nARE CERTAIN WOMEN PREDESTINED TO UNHAPPINESS THROUGH THE INFLUENCE OF\r\nTHE STARS?\r\n\r\nSoon after my deliverance from evil, Seraphine cast my horoscope (I\r\nwonder why she never did this before?), and now much that was previously\r\ninexplicable in my life is made clear to me. She says that astrology is\r\nnot a cheap form of trickery, but a recognized field of knowledge and\r\ninvestigation.\r\n\r\nFrom the earliest times wise men have emphasized the influence of the\r\nstars upon human lives--for good or ill. I like to believe this. It\r\ngives one a broader and more charitable view of one\'s fellow creatures,\r\nof their sins and weaknesses, to realize the presence about us of these\r\nvast and mysterious forces.\r\n\r\nMy horoscope, with its queer phraseology, reads:\r\n\r\n"Your Neptune is in evil aspect to your Venus, which makes you attract\r\nmen almost irresistibly."\r\n\r\nThis was the case, Seraphine says, with Georges Sand, George Eliot and\r\nvarious women in history who were the favorites of kings, although some\r\nof them had little beauty. They were dowered, however, with this\r\nterrific magnetism for the opposite sex.\r\n\r\nI remember, even as a school girl, how the boys used to fight over me,\r\nwhile they scarcely noticed prettier and brighter girls. I never\r\nunderstood this, any more than they did, for I was rather indifferent to\r\nthem. There was one girl in our set who attracted the boys as much as I\r\ndid, but she was also drawn to them. When this girl was about eighteen\r\nher father began to receive anonymous notes telling of his daughter\'s\r\nescapades and warning him to guard her more carefully. Finally there\r\ncame an open scandal when the girl ran away with a married man. At the\r\ntime I thought myself a better and stronger character than she, since I\r\nresisted temptation, but my horoscope shows that I had "in beneficent\r\naspect" certain planets that were "evilly aspected" for my friend, and\r\nthis made her temptations greater than mine.\r\n\r\nSeraphine says that the horoscope, wisely used, is like an automobile\r\nlight in the darkness--it reveals dangers in the road that may be\r\navoided. "_The stars incline, but do not compel_," she always tells her\r\nclients and assures them that, by power of the will, we can overcome any\r\ninfluence of the stars, strengthening the good and weakening the evil\r\naspects. That is a blessed thought.\r\n\r\nWhen I was a trained nurse I received many confidences from women and\r\nsome confessions of an intimate nature. At one time I took care of a\r\nmarried woman in Washington, a neurasthenic case, and this woman told me\r\nthat she had several times tried to kill herself because of a curse that\r\nseemed to be hanging over her. Twice, following an irresistible impulse,\r\nshe had left her husband with another man for whom she had no particular\r\naffection. It was a kind of recurrent madness which she did not\r\nunderstand except that _she was positive that it had something to do\r\nwith the phases of the moon_. During about ten days of the month when\r\nthe moon was "dark," she was perfectly normal, but when a new moon\r\nappeared she was conscious of a vague uneasiness that increased and\r\nfinally became acute when the moon was full, this being her time of\r\nperil.\r\n\r\nVenus in conjunction with Mars, Seraphine says, brings love at first\r\nsight, but in evil aspect to Mars it makes one liable to sex-excesses.\r\n\r\nShe says that a good Neptune in the 5th house, the house of Romance, or\r\nin the 7th house, the house of Marriage, brings an ideal and spiritual\r\nattachment; but in evil aspect in either of these houses it brings an\r\nimmoral relationship or a marriage to one who is morally or physically\r\ndeformed. This was the condition in my own horoscope and certainly poor\r\nJulian was deformed morally.\r\n\r\nWhat a strange and fascinating light all this throws upon human\r\nbehavior! How it clears up mysterious infatuations and explains\r\nincredible follies! Seraphine knows a woman of fifty--she is a\r\ngrandmother and a most estimable person--who has always had and still\r\nhas this power of attracting men violently to her. On one occasion this\r\nwoman was in a railway station in New York, waiting for her son, when a\r\nfine looking man approached her and, lifting his hat, asked if she could\r\ndirect him to the train that would soon leave for Chicago. She told him\r\nin her well-bred way, and he left her; but a few minutes later he\r\nreturned and said with intense feeling that he had never believed in\r\nlove at first sight, but now he did. He was compelled to believe in it\r\nnow.\r\n\r\nWhen she drew back he told her that he was a widower, a man of means,\r\nliving in the West, that he could give her the best references and--the\r\npoint was that his infatuation for her was so great that he begged her\r\nto consider whether she would be willing to marry him. He would do\r\neverything in his power to make her happy, but declared that he could\r\nnot and would not try to live without her another day.\r\n\r\nKnowing her horoscope the woman did not get angry at this presumption,\r\nbut gently declined the offer, and begged the man to leave her. He bowed\r\nand withdrew, but came back once again after she had joined her son and\r\nexplained to the astonished young man his hopes and aspirations toward\r\nthe mother. Whereupon, as the woman still refused, he finally left, to\r\nall appearances broken-hearted.\r\n\r\nI have had one experience of this sort myself that shows how even the\r\nnoblest man may suddenly suffer an infatuation capable of sweeping him\r\non to disaster. It was at the time of my husband\'s death--during days\r\nwhen he lay half conscious in the hospital following his automobile\r\naccident. A distinguished clergyman, Dr. B----, who had known Julian\r\nslightly, visited him here and in this way made my acquaintance. And he\r\nfell violently in love with me.\r\n\r\nFor months during my early widowhood he saw me almost every day and\r\nwrote me impassioned letters, declaring that I was the only woman in the\r\nworld for him, I was his true mate, he could not live without me, he was\r\nready to give up everything for me, to go away with me to some distant\r\ncity--any city--and begin life all over again.\r\n\r\nThis clergyman was a man of fifty, a brilliant preacher, widely honored\r\nand loved, who had never in his life, he assured me, committed any\r\ndeliberately sinful act such as this would be, for he was married to a\r\nfine woman who had been his faithful companion for many years and had\r\nborne him two children--two boys. All this he was ready to renounce for\r\nme--reputation, honor, duty. He said it was fate. His desire for me was\r\ntoo strong to be resisted. The sin, the disgrace, the pain that he would\r\ncause--none of these could keep back this man of God from his evil\r\npurpose.\r\n\r\n\r\nARE WOMEN DISLOYAL TO OTHER WOMEN?\r\n\r\nIn many pages of my diary (written sincerely at the time) I present the\r\nconventional view of sex offences, the comforting view to women.\r\n\r\n_But--_\r\n\r\nWhen I search deep into my soul with an honest desire to find the truth,\r\nI am not sure that women are as blameless in the sex struggle with men\r\nas I would like to believe. Very often they are less pursued than\r\npursuing. Every man of the world can recall the cases where women have\r\nplayed the r\xc3\xb4le of temptress, using their charms against unwilling\r\nvictims, notably husbands of other women. _I am afraid the rule is that\r\nwomen are disloyal to other women where there is any serious emotional\r\nconflict._\r\n\r\nThe editor of a popular magazine told me once about a prize contest that\r\nthey had for the best essay on a woman\'s sex solidarity union--they\r\ncalled it the W.S.S.U. The idea was that if women would stand together\r\nagainst men they could get anything in the world they wanted--equal\r\nrights and privileges, equal wages, fair treatment in every department\r\nof life; and do away with evils of ignorance and poverty, child labor\r\nevils, prostitution evils. We could have an ideal world if women, using\r\ntheir sex power, would only stand together against men.\r\n\r\nHundreds of letters were received from women, who thought this a\r\nwonderful idea; but they all agreed that it was impossible to carry it\r\nout, because women would never be loyal to one another.\r\n\r\nThat is true; I know it, and every woman knows it--women are disloyal to\r\nother women whenever it becomes a question of men. They might agree on a\r\nW.S.S.U. program, but they would never stick to it, poor things, because\r\nevery blessed one of them who was at all good looking would be ready to\r\ngo over to the opposition at the first favorable opportunity. Only the\r\nhomely women would be loyal!\r\n\r\n\r\nARE WOMEN GREATER HYPOCRITES THAN MEN?\r\n\r\nIn all my troubles I kept at least to the form of religious belief,\r\nalthough I missed the substance, namely, that any life can be made\r\nhappy, even glorious, if it is founded on purity of soul and unselfish\r\nlove and service. I was selfish--even in my love; therefore I brought\r\nupon myself the fruits of selfishness which are ill health, inefficiency\r\nand unhappiness. _The beauty of a selfish woman fades quickly._\r\n\r\nOnce I wrote this in my diary:\r\n\r\n"Alas, how soon love passes! Ten or fifteen years and the best of it is\r\ngone. After that the dregs! A woman of thirty! Ugh! I shall be thirty\r\nnext year. A woman of forty! No wrinkles at forty, says the beauty\r\nadvertisement, but that is a lie. A woman of forty is a pitiful, tragic\r\nfigure, especially if she is a little beautiful. No man wants her any\r\nmore."\r\n\r\nI was mistaken. The beauty of unselfish love never passes. There are\r\nsisters of charity whose faces are exquisitely beautiful at fifty.\r\nSeraphine is forty-five and her face shines with heavenly radiance. Her\r\nskin is as smooth as a girl\'s and free from lines because she thinks\r\ngood thoughts and does kind acts. The greatest beauty tonic in the world\r\nis the habit of kindness.\r\n\r\nIn one place I find this:\r\n\r\n"Women are naturally religious, especially women with a strong sex\r\nnature; they believe in God, in spiritual mysteries; they are deeply\r\nstirred by religious music and by the ritual of worship; they love the\r\narchitectural impressiveness of a church, the stained glass windows far\r\nup among majestic arches, the candles, the incense, the far-away\r\nchanting.\r\n\r\n"I was brought up an Episcopalian, but when I am tired or discouraged I\r\noften go into St. Patrick\'s Cathedral--it is so beautiful--and say my\r\nprayers there. At any hour I find others praying, men and women--they\r\ncome in off Fifth Avenue quite naturally and cross themselves and bow to\r\nthe Altar and kneel straight up--they don\'t just lean forward the way we\r\ndo. I love to imitate them--cross myself and go down on one knee and dip\r\nmy fingers in the font of Holy Water as I come away. _Sometimes I wish I\r\nwas a Catholic and could confess my sins. It might help me._\r\n\r\n"I do not think religion keeps women back very much from doing what they\r\nwant to do or have resolved to do in love affairs. It is a comfort, an\r\nemotional satisfaction rather than a restraint. They come tripping in on\r\ntheir high heels with all their smiles and finery, and they trip out\r\nagain, unchanged in their sentimental natures. A woman will go to church\r\nin the afternoon and flirt with another woman\'s husband in the evening.\r\nShe will respond devoutly after the Commandments \'Lord have mercy upon\r\nus, and incline our hearts to keep this law,\' even though she knows that\r\nher heart is inclined to break one of these laws."\r\n\r\nThis is true in the main, although I believe now that women, because\r\nthey are highly emotional, are sincere for the moment when they kneel\r\ndown to say their prayers and confess their sins, even if they half know\r\nthat they may continue in wrong-doing. I suppose women are less logical\r\nhere than men who will often stay away from church entirely when they\r\nare breaking the moral law and when they know that they intend to go on\r\nbreaking it. I am sure it is better, however, for men and women to go to\r\nchurch, even at the risk of a little hypocrisy, than not to go at all.\r\n\r\n\r\nARE WOMEN DISINGENUOUS IN SENTIMENTAL AFFAIRS?\r\n\r\nI suppose we must admit that there are many women, in all classes of\r\nsociety--not mercenary women--who extend to men a certain measure of sex\r\ncomplaisance and feel no deep regret for this behavior, so long as\r\nthings go well.\r\n\r\nOnce I wrote in my diary:\r\n\r\n"Of course women will not admit sex indiscretions--wild horses could not\r\ndrag the truth out of them. The attractive ones, those who have had\r\nemotional experiences with men, will hide them, following the feminine\r\nfree masonry of centuries. And unattractive women will call high heaven\r\nto witness that nothing of that sort has ever happened to them. They\r\nhave always found men respectful and considerate."\r\n\r\nI asked Julian about this one day when he was in a penitential mood and\r\nhe said:\r\n\r\n"Of course you are right, the indiscretions of women are numerous,\r\ninevitable; but it is the fault of men. The evidence is all about us.\r\nAny woman may ascertain this from her husband, her father, her\r\ngrandfather, or her great-grandfather, if she can persuade one of these\r\ngentlemen to be honest with her."\r\n\r\nThe ghastly truth is--this is the truth that has filled the world with\r\ntears--that the average full-blooded male citizen is polygamous in his\r\ninstinct and to some extent in his practice.\r\n\r\nEvery reasonably attractive woman who has been called upon to face the\r\nfacts of life knows that men are impelled towards women by a force of\r\ndesire that they call over-powering. It is not over-powering, as\r\nthousands of clean-minded men have proved, it is no more over-powering\r\nthan the desire to gamble or the desire to take drugs; it can be\r\nconquered as these other desires have been conquered; but centuries of\r\nwayward living under relaxed standards (the double standard) have made\r\nmen believe that it is over-powering and they act accordingly. And women\r\nyield on one pretense or another, smilingly or tearfully--_how can they\r\nresist the dominant will of half the human race?_\r\n\r\nI find this in my diary heavily underscored:\r\n\r\n"_How can the same act be a sin for half the race and not a sin for the\r\nother half? For centuries men have proclaimed that women must not give\r\nthemselves to men, but men may give themselves to women. Is there any\r\ngreater absurdity? Wine may mix with water, but water must not mix with\r\nwine._"\r\n\r\nIf these sex-complaisant women were really filled with remorse, burdened\r\nwith a sense of shame, we should all know it. Their eyes, their voices,\r\ntheir daily lives would reveal it. Could a million women be in physical\r\npain, say from starvation, without all the world knowing it? Is pain of\r\nthe soul less torturing than pain of the body? The fact is that these\r\nwomen are not in spiritual pain. They regard what they have done (often\r\nregretfully) as a result of impossible conditions in the world today, a\r\nworld controlled by men.\r\n\r\nI can speak about these things with a certain authority, since, for\r\nyears, I sympathized with the self-indulgent point of view, in fact I\r\nlived in an artistic and Bohemian _milieu_ where many of my friends\r\nfollowed the line of least resistance. I may even confess that I might\r\nhave gone with the current, had I not seen the harm and unhappiness that\r\nresulted. _It does not pay to be self-indulgent._\r\n\r\n\r\n"LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION"\r\n\r\nThe suspicion that many women are disingenuous in regard to these\r\nirregularities of conduct was forced upon me some years ago in a\r\nconversation with Kendall Brown, who, for all his eccentricities, is a\r\nkeen observer of life.\r\n\r\nI give the conversation at some length just as I wrote it down in my\r\ndiary:\r\n\r\n"Kendall insists that women like me--he calls me a Class A woman which\r\nmakes me furious for I\'m afraid I am one--are never really on the level\r\nin sentimental affairs. If we were on the level, he says, we would not\r\nmake such a fuss about the grand conspiracy of men against our virtue.\r\nThere would be no point to it, for our virtue would never be in any\r\ndanger unless we half-wished it to be. He says that the three great sins\r\nmentioned in the Bible and in all religions are killing, stealing and\r\nsex offences. Now, the attitude of the human race toward these sins, as\r\nestablished by centuries of habit, makes it almost impossible for the\r\naverage citizen, man or woman, to either kill or steal. \'Isn\'t that\r\ntrue?\' he asked.\r\n\r\n"I agreed that the thought of stealing is so abhorrent to me that I\r\ncould not imagine any temptation strong enough to make me a thief. I\r\nmight have some reserves about killing, however, in fact I have once or\r\ntwice felt a sympathy for ... well, no!\r\n\r\n"\'All right,\' he went on. \'Now, if women were on the level in guarding\r\ntheir virtue and always had been, just as they are on the level in\r\nregard to stealing, don\'t you see that it would be utterly impossible\r\nfor any man under any circumstances (barring violence which does not\r\nhappen once in ten thousand times) to have his way with a woman? This\r\nhabit of virtue would be so deeply ground into you women, into the very\r\ndepth of your being, that nothing could overcome it. But as we look\r\nabout us and observe women in all classes of society, we see that there\r\nis no such condition, no such habit, which proves that women are not and\r\nnever have been on the level. What do you say to that, speaking as a\r\npretty woman?\'\r\n\r\n"I did not say anything, I was so indignant--speechless--at his\r\nimpertinence, and while I was searching for some answer to this\r\noutrageous statement, my poet friend proceeded:\r\n\r\n"\'You know how strong habits are, Penelope, all habits. Take smoking, or\r\ndrinking cocktails, or even coffee. I swore off coffee six weeks ago.\r\nDuring the first week I was nearly crazy for it--had headaches, felt\r\nrotten, but I stuck it out. In the second week it was much easier for me\r\nnot to take coffee. At the end of a month the habit was established and\r\nnow I have no more craving for coffee. If I leave it alone for six\r\nmonths the chances are that nothing will ever make me drink coffee\r\nagain, especially if I hypnotize myself with the idea that coffee is bad\r\nfor my heart action, that I\'m a nice little hero to have cut it out and\r\nthat now I am going to live to be over ninety. You see?\r\n\r\n"\'Now then, the drift of all this is that the habit of virtue in women\r\nif it really was an on-the-level habit that they believed in with all\r\ntheir souls and would fight for with all their strength, would be\r\nutterly and absolutely unbreakable--no man could overcome it. The only\r\nreason why men in all times and in all lands have overcome women\'s\r\nvirtue is because women themselves have never attached the importance to\r\nit that they pretend to attach. That isn\'t a very gallant speech, but it\r\nis true.\'"\r\n\r\nAs I said, I became angry at Kendall\'s accusations and refused to\r\ncontinue the discussion, but if I were to answer the poet now, after my\r\nwider experience of life, especially after my sufferings, I should feel\r\nobliged to acknowledge that he struck a hard blow at feminine\r\ncomplacency. The trouble with women is that there is an increasing\r\ntendency among them, especially among those who live in cities full of\r\npleasures and excitements, to compromise with evil, to go as near the\r\ndanger line as possible, so long as they do not cross it. And this\r\ncowardly, dallying virtue is almost no virtue at all. There was a time\r\nwhen women prayed sincerely: "Lead us not into temptation"; now it seems\r\nas if they pray to be led into temptation, with just this reservation:\r\n_that they may come out of it unscathed. Demi-vierges!_\r\n\r\nI have watched many attractive women treading the primrose path and I\r\nhave seen that it always leads them to unhappiness. Not that they are\r\ndisgraced or openly degraded--life goes on with many of them very much\r\nas before, but gradually their faces change, their souls change. They\r\ncould have done so much better; they could have been useful, respected\r\nand self-respecting figures in the world _through loving service_. After\r\nall, life is very short and the only things that really matter are the\r\nthings that happen in our own souls. _No one can fail in life who does\r\nnot fail inside, and no one can succeed in life who only succeeds\r\noutside._ I learned that from Dr. Leroy.\r\n\r\n\r\nIS PLATONIC FRIENDSHIP POSSIBLE TO AN ATTRACTIVE WOMAN?\r\n\r\nIn telling the truth about my life and my innermost feelings I must\r\nquote passages from my diary that were written in a light and often\r\nflippant spirit, that being my mood at the time; but the lesson is there\r\njust the same and in many instances tears follow close behind the\r\nlaughter. Furthermore, I thank God that my regeneration has not taken\r\naway my sense of humor. One of the great troubles with neurasthenic\r\nwomen is that they do not laugh enough.\r\n\r\nI wrote the following about a year after my husband\'s death:\r\n\r\n"We women are irrational creatures. Our emotions control us, and these\r\nemotions change from day to day, from hour to hour. We never know how we\r\nwill act under any given circumstances--that may depend upon some man."\r\n\r\nThe truth is that the attraction which draws a man and a woman together\r\nin what they call platonic friendship always has something of the\r\nphysical in it--on one side or the other. Or on both sides. Women will\r\nnot admit this, but it is true. They talk about the intellectual bond\r\nthat joins them to a man--what a precious interchange of thoughts! Or\r\nthe spiritual bond--such a soulful and inspiring companionship--nothing\r\nelse, my dear! I used to talk that way myself about Jimsy Brooks before\r\nmy husband died. He was my unchangeable rock of defense whenever the\r\nsubject of platonic friendship came up. Other men might fail and falter,\r\nmake fools of themselves, seek opportunities for--nonsense, but Jimsy\r\nwas Old Reliability. I could tell him everything, even my troubles with\r\nJulian, I could trust him entirely. Alas!\r\n\r\nOne day I received this warning from Seraphine: "My beloved Penelope,\r\nyou are riding for a fall! I have had you in mind constantly since you\r\ntold me of your new friendship with Mr. R----. I know you intend to be\r\ntruly platonic and I can see you smiling as you recall your many years\'\r\nfriendship with Jim Brooks to prove that such a thing is possible. But,\r\nmy dear, take warning in time. While it has apparently worked out in\r\nthat case, I am certain it is only the thought of losing \'even that that\r\nhe has\' which has prevented Jimsy from telling you of his love long ago.\r\nYour new playmate may cause you many heartaches before the game is\r\nplayed out. Think it over."\r\n\r\nDear old Seraphine! How well she knows the human soul! A month later I\r\nwrote this in my diary:\r\n\r\n"Seraphine was right. My bubble has vanished into thin air. Jimsy Brooks\r\nhas declared his love for me and a wonderful thing has gone out of my\r\nlife forever. I had always felt so perfectly safe with Jimsy. When I\r\nthink of the all-day picnics that we two used to go on together and the\r\noutrageous things I have done, I blush all over.\r\n\r\n"I remember our trip to Bear Mountain and the sparkling stream that\r\nbeckoned me into its depths. I wanted to wade in it, to sit on one of\r\nthe smooth round stones in the middle and in general to behave like a\r\nchild. All of which I did, for there was only Jimsy to see and he didn\'t\r\nmatter in the least. He never so much as glanced at my bare feet and\r\nlegs when I splashed through the ripples with my dress pinned up!\r\n\r\n"I remember how I kissed his hand where a fish barb had torn it....\r\n\'Kiss it, make it well,\' and all the while I must have been hurting him\r\ncruelly. God knows I did not mean to, I would not have hurt him for the\r\nworld.\r\n\r\n"This sort of thing is all very well from a woman\'s angle, but is it\r\nwell for a man? Jimsy says no, and when I remember the expression in his\r\neyes, I am afraid I must agree with him. I had thought of him more as I\r\nwould think of a girl chum, only infinitely more desirable, for he had\r\nthe power of really _doing_ things for me--he was a cross between a nice\r\nold friendly dog that would fetch and carry at my bidding and a powerful\r\nprotector who could (and did) stand between me and unpleasant\r\nhappenings.\r\n\r\n"Jimsy has gone out of my life and left a terrible loneliness. He says\r\nthat some day, when he has learned resignation, he will come back and\r\nwe can take up the threads of our friendship just where we have laid\r\nthem down ... but that can never be, you cannot build up a new\r\nfriendship on the ashes of an old one. Poor Jim Brooks! I shall never\r\nforget what a wonderful thing he was in my life. And now that I have\r\nlearned my lesson, my new platonic friend Mr. R---- can take his\r\nprofessed platonic friendship elsewhere. I am through, henceforth all\r\nmen are acquaintances ... or lovers!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs I look back on my life and try to draw wisdom from my mistakes, I see\r\nsome things clearly and one is that it is impossible for a woman like me\r\nto enjoy the close friendship of an attractive man without danger. No\r\nmatter how honorable he is or how sincere the woman is, there will be\r\ndanger. The only case where there is no danger is where there is no\r\nphysical attraction. I might have been safe enough with some anemic\r\nsaint, but not with one who had pulsing red blood in his\r\nveins--certainly not!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHere is a characteristic episode written before I married Julian, during\r\nthose months of hard struggle in New York:\r\n\r\n"Last night Kendall Brown talked to me like an angel.\r\n\r\n"\'I\'ll give you a case in point, Pen,\' he was saying. \'A beautiful woman\r\nlike you, an exquisite, lithe creature is sitting on a sofa under a soft\r\nlight, leaning against pillows--just as you are now; and a man like me,\r\na poor adoring devil, a regular worm, is sitting at the other end of the\r\nsofa looking at this woman, drinking in her loveliness, thrilling to the\r\nmysterious lights in her eyes, the caressing tenderness of her voice and\r\nall the rest of it. This man wants to reach out and take this woman in\r\nhis arms--draw her to him--press his lips to hers. But he doesn\'t do it,\r\nbecause--well, she wouldn\'t stand for it. Besides, it isn\'t right.\r\nPerhaps she is a married woman. Perhaps he is married.\r\n\r\n"\'Now what I want to know is why this chap can\'t behave himself and\r\nregard his fair friend as he would an exquisite rose in a\r\ngarden--somebody else\'s garden. Why can\'t he say to himself: "This woman\r\nis one of God\'s loveliest creatures, but she does not belong to me. I\r\ncan look at her, I can rejoice in her beauty, but I mustn\'t touch her or\r\ntry to harm her." Why can\'t he say that to himself? Isn\'t it a wicked\r\nthing for a man to crush and bruise and destroy a lovely flower, to\r\nscatter its color and perfume just for a wayward impulse?\'\r\n\r\n"I shall never forget the earnestness, the tenderness in the eyes and\r\nvoice of this harum scarum poet whose record in women conquests makes a\r\nrich chapter in the annals of Greenwich Village. At this moment he was\r\nquite sincere, or thought he was. There were tears in his eyes.\r\n\r\n"And what did I do? I rose from my pillows and said, with a little laugh\r\nand toss of my head: \'Very pretty, Kendall, you ought to make a poem of\r\nit.\' Then I went over to the victrola and set it going in a fox-trot,\r\none of my favorites. I was restless and began to move about slowly to\r\nthe music while Kendall watched me with a different light growing in his\r\neyes. I wore a clinging white house garment--I suppose I was at my best.\r\n\r\n"\'Let\'s dance it, Pen, just gently so as not to disturb the folks\r\ndownstairs,\' he said. So we danced the fox-trot and my hair brushed\r\nagainst his cheek--he really dances very well for a poet.\r\n\r\n"After he had gone I sat thinking of this for a long time, puzzled about\r\nmyself and about Kendall. This afternoon I saw him again as I was\r\npassing through the Brevoort Caf\xc3\xa9. He came up to me, smiling, and drew\r\nme aside.\r\n\r\n"\'Don\'t you see what a little faker you are, Pen?\' he laughed. \'It\'s\r\njust as I said, you are none of you on the level, you pretty women. Why\r\ndid you set that victrola going last night and tempt me to--to--yes you\r\ndid, you know darn well you did. Why did you let your cheek brush\r\nagainst mine? Come, be honest, if you can. You\'re laughing, you adorable\r\nlittle devil--you expected me to kiss you.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Impertinent!\' I said. \'You do yourself too much honor, sir.\'\r\n\r\n"\'I say you expected me to kiss you.\'\r\n\r\n"\'No.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Liar!\' He wrinkled up his nose amusingly.\r\n\r\n"I suppose I was a liar. I did expect Kendall Brown to--well--not to\r\nkiss me necessarily, but to make it perfectly clear that he wanted to.\r\nIt was a ridiculous and unnecessary bit of posing on his part to act as\r\nif he did not want to. The French have a saying that a pretty woman\r\nalways expects a suitor to know just _when_ to be lacking in respect."\r\n\r\n\r\nHOW SHALL A WOMAN SATISFY HER HEART\'S LONELINESS?\r\n\r\nI quote from my diary without comment another significant conversation\r\nthat took place during the early months of my widowhood. How I resented,\r\nat this time, any suggestion that I was inclined to venture too near the\r\nsentimental danger line!\r\n\r\nAnd yet....\r\n\r\n"Tonight I had a long talk with Kendall Brown on the same old\r\nsubject--_what is a woman to do who longs for the companionship of a\r\nman, but does not find it?_\r\n\r\n"Kendall always says disconcerting things, he is brutally frank; but I\r\nlike to argue with him because I find him stimulating, and he does know\r\na lot about life.\r\n\r\n"\'The trouble with women like you, Pen,\' he said, \'is that you are not\r\nhonest with yourselves. You pretend one thing and end by doing something\r\nquite different; then you say that you never intended to do this thing.\r\nWhy can\'t you be consistent?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Like men?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Well, at least men know what they are going after, and when they have\r\ndone a certain thing, they don\'t waste time regretting it or insisting\r\nthat they meant to do something else.\'\r\n\r\n"\'You think women are hypocrites?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Yes.\'\r\n\r\n"\'If women are hypocrites, if women are afraid to tell the truth about\r\nsentimental things, it is because you men have made them so,\' I replied\r\nwith feeling.\r\n\r\n"Kendall answered good-naturedly that he held no brief for his own sex,\r\nhe acknowledged that men treat women abominably--lie to them, abandon\r\nthem, and so on; but he kept to his point that women create many of\r\ntheir troubles by drifting back and forth aimlessly on the changing tide\r\nof their emotions instead of establishing some definite goal for their\r\nlives.\r\n\r\n"\'Women yield to every sentimental impulse--that is why they weep so\r\neasily. Watch them at a murder trial--they weep for the victim, then\r\nthey weep for the murderer. Half their tears are useless. If women would\r\nput into constructive thinking some of the vital power they waste in\r\nweeping and talking they could revolutionize the world.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Could they reform the men?\' I retorted, but when he tried to answer I\r\nstopped him. What was the use? I knew what he would say about this, and\r\nI really wanted to get his ideas on the other point.\r\n\r\n"\'Come back to the question,\' I said. \'Take the case of a well-bred\r\nwoman surrounded by stifling, conventional influences of family and\r\nfriends, who sees lonely years slipping by while nothing comes that\r\nsatisfies her womanhood. She may have money enough, comforts, even\r\nluxuries, but she longs for the companionship of a man. What is she to\r\ndo?\'\r\n\r\n"He answered with his usual positiveness:\r\n\r\n"\'She must take the initiative. She must go after what she supremely\r\nwants, just as a man would, using her power--I assume that she is\r\nreasonably attractive. She must break through restraints, and drive\r\nahead towards the particular kind of emotional happiness that suits her.\r\nThat is what God created her for, to achieve by her own efforts this\r\nemotional happiness. If she wants it enough she can get it. We can all\r\nof us do anything, have anything on condition that we want it enough to\r\npay the price for it. The price is usually the elimination of other\r\nthings that interfere.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Suppose a woman wants a husband? Suppose she is forty--and not rich?\r\nDo you mean to say she can get a husband?\'\r\n\r\n"Here my poet, blazing with conviction, leaned towards me, pointing an\r\nemphatic forefinger.\r\n\r\n"\'I tell you, Penelope Wells, it is possible for any reasonably\r\nattractive woman _up to forty-five_ to get a reasonably satisfactory\r\nhusband if she will work to get him as a man works to make money. She\r\ncan\'t sit on a chair and twirl her thumbs and wait for a husband to drop\r\ninto her lap out of the skies like a ripe plum. She must bend destiny to\r\nher purposes. She must make sacrifices, create opportunities, move\r\nabout, use the intelligence that God has given her. The world is full of\r\nmen who are half ready to marry--_she must turn the balance!_\r\n\r\n"\'Listen! If I were a lonely woman yearning for matrimony I would pick\r\nout one of these eligible males and make him my own. I would make him\r\nfeel that the thing he wanted above all other things was to have me for\r\nhis wife. How would I do this? I would study his desires, his needs, his\r\nweaknesses; I would make myself so necessary to him--as necessary as a\r\nmother is to a child--that he couldn\'t get along without me. I tell you\r\nit can be done, Pen, by the resistless power of the human will. The\r\ntrouble with most of us is that we don\'t want things hard enough. _If a\r\nwoman wants a husband hard enough she will get him--nothing can prevent\r\nit!_\'\r\n\r\n"I smiled at these fantastic views, although I admit, that we women\r\nought to be more masters of our fates than we are. In my own case I\r\nsuppose it would have been better if I had left Julian of my own\r\nvolition, because it was right to leave him, instead of waiting for an\r\nautomobile accident to separate us.\r\n\r\n"\'Please be sensible, Kendall,\' I protested. \'Give me thoughts that\r\napply to the world as it is, not extravagant fancies. You know perfectly\r\nwell that there are thousands, tens of thousands, of fairly attractive\r\nwomen in all classes of society, especially in the wage earning class,\r\nwho have no chance to marry the kind of man they wish to marry. Besides,\r\nthere are a million more women than men in American. They can\'t all get\r\nhusbands, can they? There aren\'t enough men to go around. And there are\r\nother thousands of wretched women tied to husbands who will not consent\r\nto a divorce. What are all these unhappy women to do?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Can\'t they get along without men?\' he laughed.\r\n\r\n"\'Can men get along without women?\' I answered, rather annoyed. Kendall\r\nsaw that I was serious and changed his tone.\r\n\r\n"\'Let me get this straight, Pen. If a woman longs for the companionship\r\nof a man--you mean the intimate companionship? You are not talking about\r\nplatonic friendship?\'\r\n\r\n"\'No, I mean the intimate companionship.\'\r\n\r\n"\'And she cannot marry? Then what is she to do? Is that what you mean?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Yes.\'\r\n\r\n"\'Ah! Now we come to the heart of the discussion. You want to know if\r\nthere are cases where self-respecting women enter into irregular love\r\naffairs and never regret it? Is it possible for a woman to break the\r\nmoral law without suffering disastrous consequences? Are there cases\r\nwhere a girl or a woman yields to the desperate cry of her soul for a\r\nmate without degradation and without loss of her self-respect? Can such\r\nthings be? Do you want my honest opinion?\' The poet\'s eyes challenged\r\nme.\r\n\r\n"\'Yes, that is exactly what I want, I want the truth.\'\r\n\r\n"Whereupon Kendall Brown assured me that he has known a number of rather\r\nfine women, self-supporting and self-respecting, the kind of women who\r\nsay their prayers at night and try to be kind, who, nevertheless, have\r\nhad _liaisons_ that have not resulted in shame and sorrow or in any\r\nmoral or material disaster.\r\n\r\n"\'Are you sure of this? How can you be sure?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Because I have talked frankly with these women. Sometimes I was in a\r\nposition where I could, and, anyhow, women tell me things. They know it\r\nis my business to study life, to glimpse the heights and depths of human\r\nnature. I would be a poor poet if I couldn\'t do that.\'\r\n\r\n"\'And these women told you that they have never felt regrets?\'\r\n\r\n"\'Practically that--yes; several of them said that they would do the\r\nsame thing over again if they had to relive their lives. They have been\r\nhappier, more efficient in their work, they have had better health,\r\ncalmer nerves, a more serene attitude towards life because of these love\r\naffairs.\'\r\n\r\n"\'I don\'t believe it,\' I declared. \'These women lied to you. They kept\r\nsomething back. The thing is wrong, abominable, and nothing can make it\r\nright or decent. I would rather die of loneliness.\'\r\n\r\n"I shall never forget Kendall\'s superior smile as he answered me:\r\n\r\n"\'Oh, the inconsistency of a woman! She will not marry, she will not\r\nhave an _affaire_, yet she longs for the intimate companionship of a\r\nman. She wants to go swimming, but insists upon keeping away from the\r\nwater.\'\r\n\r\n"I bit my lip in vexation of spirit.\r\n\r\n"\'Dear friend, don\'t be annoyed with me,\' my poet continued with a quick\r\nchange to gentleness. \'I didn\'t make the world or put these troublesome\r\ndesires and inconsistencies into the hearts of women. Listen! I\'ll give\r\nyou my best wisdom now: If a woman cannot marry and will not have a\r\nlover, then she must stop all stimulation of her emotions, she must put\r\nmen out of her thoughts, out of her life and concentrate on something\r\nworth while that will not harm her. Let her take up the purely\r\nintellectual life, some cultural effort--history, art, municipal reform,\r\nanything, and absorb herself in it. Or let her follow the old path that\r\nhas led thousands of women to peace of mind--let her seek the comforts\r\nof religion.\' Then smiling, he added: \'You might become a missionary,\r\nPen, in China or Armenia. I\'ll bet you\'d be flirting with some mandarin\r\nor pasha before you got through.\'\r\n\r\n"Again I bit my lip, for I knew very well that the religious life would\r\nnever satisfy me. If I entered a convent I should probably run away from\r\nit in despair. What a horrible situation to want to do right and long to\r\ndo wrong at the same time!\r\n\r\n"Kendall Brown must have read my thoughts.\r\n\r\n"\'There is one thing you self-pitying ladies must learn,\' he went on,\r\n\'that is to play the game of life according to the rules. You can\'t have\r\nyour cake and eat it. You can\'t amuse yourselves with fire without\r\ngetting burned.\'\r\n\r\n"I was silent.\r\n\r\n"\'You must stop flirting with temptation--that\'s what you all do, you\r\npretty women, fascinating women. You can\'t deny it.\'\r\n\r\n"\'I do deny it,\' I said weakly.\r\n\r\n"\'Oh come now! How about dancing--when a woman has a sinuous, clinging\r\nbody and wears no corsets and--you know what I mean. Isn\'t that\r\ntemptation?\'\r\n\r\n"\'It\'s horrid of you, Kendall Brown, to suggest such things. Only a\r\nperson with evil thoughts--\'\r\n\r\n"His eyes twinkled at me good-humoredly but I refused to be conciliated.\r\n\r\n"\'And how about the ancient and honorable practice of kissing?\' he\r\npersisted. \'Of course it is not done any more, I realize that. No pretty\r\nwoman in these austere days ever thinks of allowing a man to kiss\r\nher--except her husband, but--seriously, isn\'t kissing a temptation?\r\nIsn\'t it, Pen?\'\r\n\r\n"By this time my nerves were decidedly ruffled.\r\n\r\n"\'You are too foolish!\' I stormed. \'I wish you would go home. I am tired\r\nof your ex-cathedra statements and your self-sufficiency.\'\r\n\r\n"\'No,\' he flung back, studying me with his keen gray eyes, \'you are\r\ntired of the truth.\'"\r\n\r\n\r\nCONCERNING THE DOUBLE STANDARD\r\n\r\nWith great diffidence I venture to say a word about the most perplexing\r\nand embarrassing question in the world:\r\n\r\n_Shall men be allowed to do certain things without any particular\r\npunishment or social condemnation, while women are punished mercilessly\r\nfor doing these same things--things that men compel them to do?_\r\n\r\nThe double standard!\r\n\r\nShall women try to change this standard, and, if so, in which\r\ndirection--up or down?\r\n\r\nIs it desirable that the weaker sex be given more liberty in emotional\r\nmatters, or that the stronger sex be given less liberty?\r\n\r\nI know that some distinguished women, great artists, stage favorites and\r\nothers have succeeded brilliantly in spite of sex irregularities; but\r\nthis proves nothing. These women succeeded because they had genius or\r\ntalent, not because they were immoral, just as certain men of genius\r\nhave succeeded in spite of an addiction to various evil practices. They\r\nwould probably have achieved more splendid careers had they been able to\r\nconquer these weaknesses. Besides, we are considering what is best for\r\nthe majority of men and women, not for an exceptional few.\r\n\r\nI have a friend, a public school teacher in Chicago,--Miss Jessie G----,\r\nwho holds advanced views on these matters and admits that she herself\r\nhas been a sex transgressor. She has never been sordid or mercenary,\r\nshe has always believed that she was actuated by sincere affection, but\r\nthe fact remains that she has had several affairs with men. She has\r\nbroken the moral law. And while she professes not to regret this and\r\ninsists that she would repeat these affairs if she had to live her life\r\nover again, yet, I have felt in talking with her that this cannot\r\npossibly be true.\r\n\r\nMiss G---- has fine instincts, is fond of music, is proud of her\r\nprofession and shrinks from the thought that she might be considered\r\n_d\xc3\xa9class\xc3\xa9e_; at the same time she _knows_ that on more than one occasion\r\nshe has been treated coldly by men and women familiar with the facts of\r\nher life. For example, at summer hotels, in spite of her good looks and\r\napparent respectability, she has been denied introductions to charming\r\nwomen who would disapprove of her behavior.\r\n\r\n_That hurts!_\r\n\r\nEven the bravest of our advanced women thinkers know in their hearts\r\nthat they writhe under the pity or scorn of their sister women.\r\n\r\nIt is certain that a decent woman who enters into irregular relations\r\nwith a man whom she loves must endure great distress of mind; her\r\nrelations with this man are at best unsatisfactory. She accepts the\r\ndisadvantages of wifehood and foregoes the advantages. She can see her\r\nadored one only with difficulty at uncertain times and places. She lives\r\nin constant fear of discovery. She is doomed to torturing loneliness\r\nfor, in the nature of things, she cannot have her lover with her\r\nwhenever she longs to have him, there must be days and weeks of the\r\ninevitable separation. Nor dare she write to him freely, lest the\r\nletters fall into wrong hands. In no way may she reveal her love, the\r\nproudest treasure in her life, but must hide it like a thing of shame.\r\n\r\n"My poor child," I would say to such a woman, if I might, "remember that\r\nthe hard test comes when things go wrong, when money fails, when beauty\r\nfades. Suppose your beloved falls ill. You cannot go to him, speak to\r\nhim, minister to him on his bed of pain, though your heart is breaking.\r\nEven if he is dying, you can only wait ... wait in anguish of soul for\r\nsome cold or covert message. You have no rights at his side that the\r\nfamily respect--_his_ family. Who are you? Are you his wife? No! Then\r\nyou are nothing, less than nothing; you are the temptress, _the\r\nmistress_! You love him? Bah! Can such a woman love?"\r\n\r\nMiss G---- once acknowledged to me that while she has enjoyed the\r\ncompanionship of superior men whom she would never have known but for\r\nher moral laxity, yet she has paid a heavy price here, since she no\r\nlonger values the acquaintance of men in her own sphere of life. From\r\ntwo such men (excellent, average men) she has received offers of\r\nmarriage that she refused because their society no longer satisfied her\r\nafter that of others more brilliant and highly placed; but she might\r\neasily have been happy with one of these two, had not her ideals been\r\nraised to a level beyond her legitimate attainment.\r\n\r\nI might present other difficulties that must be faced by a woman who\r\nsays she is tired of the old standards of virtue and will live her life\r\nas a man lives his, but I need not detail these difficulties. In her\r\ndeepest soul every woman knows that the thought of a wayward existence\r\nis abhorrent to her better nature. She hates the double standard, she\r\nknows it has worked only evil in the world--it is a debasement of all\r\nthat is noblest, a betrayal of all that is most beautiful. _The double\r\nstandard has done more harm to the human race than all the wars of\r\nhistory._\r\n\r\nWomen know this, but they are afraid to speak out, they are afraid to\r\nfight for their ideals, and passing years find men clinging to hideous\r\nsex privileges--one law of morality for men and another law for women.\r\n\r\nI believe that American women could change all this, they could abolish\r\nthe wicked double standard, as they have abolished saloons and houses of\r\ndegradation, if they would face the facts of life instead of ignoring\r\nthem. It is merely a matter of courage and organization. Suppose a\r\nhundred women in a single city should pledge themselves to bar from\r\ntheir homes and acquaintance notorious sex offenders--men offenders? And\r\nto question clean-minded men of their acquaintance, influential men,\r\nabout these things and to get honest answers? And to have these answers\r\nopenly discussed--perhaps in the churches? Why not? What are churches\r\nfor except to fight evil?\r\n\r\nWhat would the average man say to a woman whom he respected and trusted\r\nif she asked him to tell her, on his honor as a good citizen, whether he\r\nbelieves that the double standard is helpful or harmful to the women of\r\nAmerica? Helpful or harmful to the children of America? To the manhood\r\nof America? Whether he is glad or sorry to think of the effects that his\r\ndouble-standard pleasures have had upon American women? Whether he would\r\nwish his sons to follow in his double-standard footsteps? Whether he\r\nwould be willing to give up his double-standard privileges, if by so\r\ndoing, he could save ten American women like his mother or his daughter\r\nfrom destruction? Would he be willing to do that? _Will he give his\r\npledge to do that?_\r\n\r\nThink how such a leaven of decency and clean manhood might spread\r\nthroughout the land! It might start a single-standard revival that would\r\nsweep the world. _By the power of courage and faith and the love of\r\nGod!_\r\n\r\n\r\nSHALL A WIFE FORGIVE HER HUSBAND FOR UNFAITHFULNESS?\r\n\r\nI have thought deeply about this, remembering what I suffered with\r\nJulian. It is terribly hard to tell the truth; a woman is filled with\r\nshame for herself and for her whole sex when she tries to tell the truth\r\nabout the unfaithfulness of husbands.\r\n\r\n_How long shall a wife forgive? How much shall she deliberately ignore?_\r\n\r\nMany women say: "I would never forgive my husband if he deceived me."\r\nOthers say: "I would never forgive my husband if I _knew_ that he had\r\ndeceived me." And still others say: "If my husband must deceive me, I\r\nhope he will never let me know it."\r\n\r\nThe tragic truth is (as all women vaguely suspect) that thousands of\r\ndevoted husbands, hundreds of thousands of average husbands have at one\r\ntime or another fallen from grace. Julian used to say that if all the\r\nmen in America who have broken the seventh commandment were sent away to\r\ndo penance on lonely mountain tops, we should run short of mountains.\r\n\r\nHe told me also that a man can love his wife so sincerely that he would\r\ngladly die for her, yet, in a moment of temptation, he may be untrue to\r\nher. Julian was an impossible person, but other clean-minded men,\r\nincluding my dear Christopher, have told me the same thing.\r\n\r\nThe truth is that most men have never learned to resist sex temptation;\r\nthey grow up with the knowledge that they need not resist temptation,\r\nwhich is the fault of society, as now organized, the fault of wrong\r\nteaching, of insincere preaching, of nation-wide hypocrisy.\r\n\r\nI have come to see that women, so long as they have not set themselves\r\nas a body against this evil system (which they might evidently change if\r\nthey would act together) have no right to complain of its inevitable\r\nconsequences. Men will abandon sex excesses, as they have abandoned\r\ndrinking excesses, gradually, through education, through reasonable\r\nappeal, through the resistless force of public opinion intelligently\r\naroused and directed by devoted women. And in no other way!\r\n\r\nMeantime, it is the duty of individual wives to be merciful, as far as\r\nthey can, towards erring husbands. The cure lies often in more love\r\nfrom the wife rather than in less love.\r\n\r\nTo any tortured wife who knows or half knows certain things about her\r\nhusband, I say this--"Dear friend, as long as you love him, forgive him.\r\nAs long as he loves you, forgive him. Be patient--enduring. Make the\r\nhard fight against sensuality with your husband, but don\'t let him know\r\nyou are making it. Make this fight exactly as you would a similar fight\r\nagainst alcohol or drugs."\r\n\r\nA woman must be on her guard, however, lest she hide under a cloak of\r\nforgiveness, some base motive in her own heart. Alas! I know, better\r\nthan anyone, how easily we women can deceive ourselves.\r\n\r\nThere is an ignoble forgiveness that is based on love of material\r\nadvantages--love of money. There are women who tolerate faithless\r\nhusbands because they are too cowardly or indolent to fight the battle\r\nof life alone. What would they do if they left their sheltered homes?\r\nWho would provide comforts and luxuries? How would they dress\r\nthemselves? How would they live? Shall it be by working? But they hate\r\nto work. They have never learned to work. It was partly as a defense\r\nagainst this woman helplessness that I took up trained nursing while\r\nJulian was still alive.\r\n\r\nA still more degrading forgiveness is based on sensuality. There are\r\nwomen married to brutes of husbands who will endure every humiliation,\r\nsurrendering all their fine ideals and high purposes rather than leave\r\nthese coarse mates.\r\n\r\nI first realized this just before I went abroad to nurse the soldiers. I\r\nhad gone to the Adirondacks that summer for a rest, and one day on a\r\nmotor trip I stopped for luncheon at a farm house, and there I\r\nrecognized an old friend from my home town, Laura K----, who was to have\r\nhad a brilliant musical career. It was she who had encouraged me to\r\ndevelop my voice; but I never could have been the great artist that\r\nLaura might have been. A famous impresario had judged her voice to be so\r\nfine--it was a glorious contralto--that he had offered to advance money\r\nfor her musical studies abroad. He assured Laura that in three years she\r\nwould be a blazing star on the grand opera stage.\r\n\r\nThat was the last I had heard of my old friend, and here suddenly I\r\nfound her, married to a hulking mountaineer, half trapper, half guide.\r\nHere was my wonderful, burning-eyed Laura, who might have had the world\r\nat her feet, a farm drudge taking in summer boarders! How was this\r\npossible?\r\n\r\nI spent the afternoon seeking an answer to this riddle. We walked out\r\ninto the forest and talked for hours, but whenever I pressed for an\r\nexplanation, she halted in confusion. Her mother was old and ill\r\nand--she did not wish to leave her. But, I pointed out, she had never\r\nspoken of this before, she had always cared supremely about her voice,\r\nabout her great musical triumph that was to be. Was not that true? Yes,\r\nof course, but--the mountain air was so good for her mother. And she\r\nmade other trivial excuses.\r\n\r\nFinally, I got the truth as we were strolling home in the twilight and\r\nmet her husband slouching along with a gun over his shoulder. As I\r\ncaught his sullen, tawny glance and sensed his superb, muscular figure,\r\nI suddenly understood. He nodded curtly and passed on--this cave man!\r\n\r\n"_That_ was the reason, Laura, wasn\'t it?" I whispered.\r\n\r\nShe looked at me in silence, biting her lips, and blushed furiously.\r\n\r\n"Yes," she confessed, "that was the reason."\r\n\r\n\r\nIS IT A WOMAN\'S DUTY TO TELL HER HUSBAND OF PAST TRANSGRESSIONS?\r\n\r\nI am not sure what I really believe about this in my deepest soul.\r\nThousands of women who long to do right will agree with me that it is a\r\nterribly difficult question to answer.\r\n\r\nIf this were an ideal world where men and women had been purified and\r\nspiritualized to a Christ-like loftiness of soul, one would say yes; but\r\nit is not. A loving wife does not wish her husband to confess to her his\r\npast transgressions, she takes him as he is and is happy to start a new\r\nlife with him, turning over a clean page. She only asks that he be loyal\r\nand faithful in the future. And if she is ready to give him similar\r\nloyalty and faithfulness, if she has sincerely repented of any sinful\r\nact, is not that sufficient? Why must she risk the destruction of their\r\nhappiness by a revelation that will do no good to anyone? Why must she\r\ngive her husband needless pain?\r\n\r\n_And yet--_\r\n\r\nWhile the vast majority of women will agree that such feminine reticence\r\nabout past wrong-doing is justifiable, the truth, as I have come to see\r\nit, is that, in so agreeing, women must subscribe to a creed of\r\ndeliberate deception. A man marries a woman whom he believes to be\r\nvirtuous, a woman whom he might refuse to marry if he knew that she were\r\nnot virtuous. And this woman does nothing to disabuse him of his error.\r\nIs that right? She allows her husband to keep a certain good opinion of\r\nher that is not justified. No matter how excellent her motive may be,\r\nthe fact remains that this marriage rests upon an insecure foundation,\r\nupon an implied falsehood. Thousands of plays and stories have been\r\nconstructed on this theme, and they usually end unhappily.\r\n\r\nSuppose a man who had been in prison should marry a woman who was\r\nignorant of this cloud on his life, trusting to chance that his criminal\r\nrecord would never be discovered? The two cases are somewhat parallel.\r\nWhat would the woman say if she learned later that she had unwittingly\r\nmarried an ex-convict? Would she not prefer that he had told her the\r\ntruth before he married her?\r\n\r\nOn the other hand it may be argued that a woman\'s sin, being presumably\r\nthe fault of some man, may be properly expiated, in part at least, by\r\nsome other man. But that does not dispose of the difficulty that _a\r\nwoman who conceals past indiscretions from her husband is condemned to\r\nlive a lie_.\r\n\r\nOne deception almost invariably leads to another deception until a\r\nwhole chain or net of equivocations, ruses, trickeries, is established\r\nwith the hideous possibility of some shocking divorce scandal, possibly\r\nyears later when innocent children may be the sufferers.\r\n\r\nEven if such disaster is averted and the truth is never revealed, even\r\nif all goes well apparently through happy married years, yet the poison\r\nof deceit may work a spiritual disaster in this woman--such a disaster\r\nas overwhelmed me--or it may bring about a lowering of moral standards\r\nin a woman, a stifling of religious life, that will have sinister and\r\nfar-reaching consequences.\r\n\r\n_The greatest need in the world today is the need of spirituality among\r\nwomen, for they are the teachers of the young._\r\n\r\nAs illustrating the frightful harm that may result from such a lack of\r\nspirituality in a woman, I quote from my diary the case of a great\r\nEnglish lady whom I met while I was nursing in the battle region back of\r\nVerdun. She had come from London to be near her son, a magnificent\r\nsoldier, the handsomest Englishman I have ever seen, who had been\r\nwounded in the Mesopotamian campaign and was now here for his\r\nconvalescence.\r\n\r\n"Lady Maude H---- G---- is a fascinating woman," I wrote. "She must have\r\nbeen a great beauty in her day, and she seems to be a figure in the\r\nrich, smart London set. She speaks quite casually of being invited to\r\nthis or that palace for a chat and a cup of tea with one of the\r\nprincesses or even with the Queen. During hours that she spent at the\r\nhospital she talked to me frankly and charmingly about many things\r\nconnected with her boy and his future. She is worried lest some\r\ndesigning woman get him in her power, and one day she told me that she\r\nhas arranged matters for Leonard so that he will be spared certain\r\nperils of this kind that might surround him in London. This excellent\r\nand brilliant mother has solved her son\'s problem--the sex problem--in\r\nthe following extraordinary way, which proves, so she seems to think,\r\nher love and wisdom. She has arranged matters--goodness knows how--so\r\nthat Leonard will be on excellent terms with two beautiful young matrons\r\nin her set and in this way he will not be vamped off by any unscrupulous\r\nchorus girl. These two beauties are to serve for the delectation of this\r\nyoung warrior until he can make a suitable marriage. What a commentary\r\nupon the morals and standards of high society!"\r\n\r\nHow can one explain such incredible baseness?\r\n\r\nThis woman is not an ignoble person. On the contrary she is kind and\r\ngenerous, full of the best intentions. She has simply reached a point in\r\nher selfish round of vanity and pleasure-seeking where she can no longer\r\ndistinguish between right and wrong. Her soul is withered, starved,\r\nbecause it has been deprived of God\'s love and God\'s truth; yet the\r\ndeterioration came gradually, no doubt, beginning with petty lies and\r\ncompromises and evasions of responsibility. If _she_ had any past\r\ntransgression on her conscience it is certain she never told her husband\r\nabout it.\r\n\r\nIt is a rule among women (with few exceptions) that idleness and\r\nuselessness make for selfishness and sensuality. Also for irreligion.\r\nThese ultra _mondaines_ think of God in an amiable, well-bred way--they\r\napprove of God, and they say their prayers in an amiable, well-bred way;\r\nbut none of this avails to regenerate their lives or to combat the\r\nsensuality of their self-indulgent men. Nor does it save these women\r\nthemselves from submitting to a social regime that is largely based on\r\nindulgence of the senses and the appetites. _Il y en a, de ces femmes du\r\nmonde, qui se conduisent d\'une fa\xc3\xa7on pire que les filles de joie._\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs for myself I told my husband everything. I kept back nothing of my\r\nwaywardness and sinfulness, my evil thoughts and desires. I admit that\r\nmost men would not forgive a wife or a young bride who confessed to some\r\nsex transgression committed before her marriage. I also admit that the\r\nchances are against a husband\'s discovering such a transgression, if the\r\nwife keeps silent. It is apparently to the wife\'s advantage to keep\r\nsilent; it apparently pays, in this case, to live a lie; but if deeper\r\nvalues are considered, if the sacredness of a woman\'s soul is taken into\r\naccount, then a woman will see that she must confess, regardless of\r\nconsequences. Alas, this is a very hard thing for the ordinary woman to\r\ndo--the ordinary woman who is neither a saint on a stained glass window\r\nnor the heroine of a novel. But if she has the moral courage to confess\r\nher sin (knowing that life is given us for something else than temporary\r\nadvantage), then, having cleansed her soul, she will be singularly\r\nblessed with peace of mind, and will be given strength to bear whatever\r\ncomes, even loneliness. Besides, there are men who know how to forgive.\r\nGod knows most of them have need enough to be forgiven themselves.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEPILOGUE\r\n\r\nA WOMAN\'S LITANY\r\n\r\n\r\n(_Written by Penelope Wells_)\r\n\r\nI dedicate to other women who may have done wrong, as I did, or who may\r\nbe sorely tempted as I was, these thoughts that have comforted me--they\r\nhave been like a consecration of my life. I have had them printed on\r\nvellum in a little red book no larger than a visiting card and so thin\r\nthat I can slip it inside my glove. This is my talisman. I read these\r\nthoughts whenever I am wavering or discouraged, wherever I may be, in\r\ncrowds or solitude, walking in the street, sitting in a car, and they\r\nalways give me new heart and courage.\r\n\r\n\r\nI\r\n\r\nWhen I am weak or embittered, indolent, envious, I know that I can find\r\nstrength through the performance of some loving act, however small. I\r\ncan brighten the dullest sky with the sunshine of a little love. I know\r\nthat sin and evil come chiefly from selfishness and sensuality. I can\r\nconquer selfishness by love. I can conquer sensuality by love. I can\r\novercome all evil, all fear, all vanity, by love. There is no death,\r\nbut the death of love. From which,\r\n\r\n_Dear Lord, deliver me._\r\n\r\n\r\nII\r\n\r\nI know that pride is the worship of self: but humility is the worship of\r\nGod. Pride leads to discontent, but humility in loving service (no\r\nmatter how obscure) gives peace of mind. From all forms of pride,\r\n\r\n_Dear Lord, deliver me._\r\n\r\n\r\nIII\r\n\r\nI know that only harm can come to me from dwelling upon past mistakes,\r\nfollies, sins. I cannot change these so I put them out of my thoughts\r\nand concentrate on the present, which is mine to do with as I please.\r\nFrom all vain regrets,\r\n\r\n_Dear Lord, deliver me._\r\n\r\n\r\nIV\r\n\r\nI know that right living comes only from right thinking. To do right\r\nunder stress of law or custom while desiring to do wrong is to make a\r\nmockery of virtue. I must sincerely desire to do right. The forces of\r\nlife-control must act from within me, not from without. From all\r\nhypocrisy and false pretense,\r\n\r\n_Dear Lord, deliver me._\r\n\r\n\r\nV\r\n\r\nI know that a woman cannot be virtuous if she longs for sensuality, or\r\ndallies with it, or dwells upon it in her thoughts, even though she\r\nrefrain from any sinful act. Nor can a married woman be a truly virtuous\r\nwife if she yields to perverse revellings of the imagination which\r\ndefile body and soul--_even with her husband_! From all defilements of\r\nlove,\r\n\r\n_Dear Lord, deliver me._\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE END\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POSSESSED ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'In the Control Tower'

'Mohler, Will'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of In the Control Tower\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: In the Control Tower\r\n\r\nAuthor: Will Mohler\r\n\r\nIllustrator: John Giunta\r\n\r\nRelease date: October 22, 2007 [eBook #23149]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE CONTROL TOWER ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Robert Cicconetti, Jeannie Howse and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n | Transcriber\'s Note: |\r\n | |\r\n | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has |\r\n | been preserved. |\r\n | |\r\n | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For |\r\n | a complete list, please see the end of this document. |\r\n | |\r\n | This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction, |\r\n | December 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any |\r\n | evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication |\r\n | was renewed. |\r\n | |\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIN THE CONTROL TOWER\r\n\r\nby WILL MOHLER\r\n\r\nIllustrated by GIUNTA\r\n\r\n =Shadows haunted the dying alleys.\r\n Madness stalked the wide streets.\r\n And what lay at the city\'s heart?=\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nI\r\n\r\n\r\nDewforth had almost most lost the habit of looking from windows. The\r\ntrain which took him to the city every morning passed through a\r\ncountry in the terminal stages of a long war of self-destruction.\r\nWhatever had been burned, botched, poisoned or exhausted in that\r\nstruggle had been filled along the right-of-way, among drifts of soot\r\nand ground-mists of sulphurous smoke and chemical flatulence, to form\r\na long tedious mural--a parody of cloud-borne Asiatic hills,\r\nprecipitous and always so close to the tracks that their tops could\r\nnot be seen.\r\n\r\nThis was almost merciful, considering what had been done to the sky.\r\nWhen the train did not sneak between hills of slag, cinders, rubbish,\r\ngarbage, dross and the bloody brown carrion of broken machinery, it\r\nshot like a bolt in the groove of an arbolest between unbroken\r\nbarriers of advertising or through deep concrete troughs and roaring\r\ntunnels full of grimy light and grubby air.\r\n\r\nThere was one inconsistancy in this scheme of things: Just as the\r\ntrain emerged from a deep valley of slag-hills and swung into a long\r\ncurve, passengers on the left side had a panoramic view of the city--a\r\nfrozen scene of battle between geometrical monsters, made remote and\r\nobscure by the dust of a thousand thousand merely human struggles, too\r\nsmall to be visible from the crusty windows of the train by the merely\r\nhuman eye. They had about one second in which to absorb this vision of\r\ncorporate purpose. Then they were plunging into a final stretch of\r\ntunnel to the center of the city itself, where no surface was ever\r\nmore than fifteen paces away and where there were no horizons at all.\r\n\r\nDewforth was excited by this view even though it reached him in a\r\nfragmentary and subliminal way. Day after day he told himself that he\r\nwould have all his faculties at the ready before the train swung into\r\nthe curve. But morning after morning he was still emerging from the\r\nstale fumes of the preceding night\'s beer, or he allowed himself to be\r\nhypnotized by the sound of the wheels or fascinated by the jiggling of\r\nanother passenger\'s earlobe at that critical moment. The train had\r\nalways entered the clangorous colon of the city before this resolve\r\ncould crystallize in his mind, and he was left with an impression\r\nwhich lay somewhere in the scale of reality between the after-image of\r\na light bulb and the morning memory of a fever-dream. He could never\r\nhave described the scene except in loose generalities about buildings\r\nof contrasting height and unemphatic color.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe single memorable feature of the panorama, looming above the rest,\r\nwas not even a building. It eluded all familiar categories. It was,\r\nlike the other components of the picture, rectangular; but it was a\r\ndisplaced rectangle. A shining thread of morning sky could be seen\r\nbeneath it. It was only logical to suppose that it stood on legs of\r\nsome kind--a complicated process of girders. The upper part appeared\r\nto be made of corrugated metal, but, as with the matter of the legs,\r\nit was impossible to separate what was actually seen and what was\r\nmerely inferred. The only other structures Dewforth had seen which\r\nresembled it at all were water towers and shipyard cranes, but these\r\nhad been mere toys compared with the thing that hovered over the\r\ncenter of the city.\r\n\r\nIts purpose could not be guessed, but what disturbed Dewforth more was\r\nthe fact that he could not be sure that it existed. He was a precision\r\ndraftsman, more or less resigned to deteriorating eyesight, and his\r\nusual abstracted state of mind during that segment of his day had also\r\nto be considered. He hoped that someone else would mention the\r\nstructure. Once--only once--a man sitting on the opposite seat had\r\nmade a comment which could have applied to it. "It turned," he said,\r\njust as the tunnel swallowed the train.\r\n\r\nDewforth would have liked to ask the other passenger what he had\r\nmeant. Had he seen the same thing? Had he seen anything at all? And\r\nwhat had he meant by "turned"?\r\n\r\nBut he had not asked. The other had been not merely forbidding, not\r\nmerely repugnant, but alternately forbidding and repugnant--in\r\ndaylight, an impeccable burgher sitting tall and righteous under a\r\ntall hat; in tunnels, a hunchbacked gargoyle picking its nose in the\r\nfickle darkness.\r\n\r\nIf Dewforth had been the only passenger on the train, or indeed the\r\nlast man in the world, he could not have been more alone with his\r\nwonder. You did not ask whimsical questions of strangers nowadays. You\r\ndid not ask many questions of friends. All uncertainties incubated in\r\nprivate darkness; they lived and grew and even put forth new\r\nappendages.\r\n\r\nNot a building. Not a water tank. Not a crane. Perhaps it was only an\r\nillusion.\r\n\r\nIllusion or not, it wanted a name so that it might be at least\r\ncatalogued in his own mind. Therefore, on a morning since forgotten\r\nand for reasons never closely examined, he decided to call it The\r\nControl Tower.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nII\r\n\r\n\r\nThere was an unholy Friday restlessness upon Dewforth. To make matters\r\nworse, it was the last Friday in March. Logically, perhaps, this\r\nshould not have made any difference because Dewforth worked in one of\r\na number of identical windowless rooms in a building from which all\r\nnatural rhythms had been rigorously excluded. From skylights high in\r\nthe ceilings of the drafting rooms came a light which had been\r\npasteurized and was timeless. It could have been artificial.\r\n\r\nHis work provided no refuge for his thought. It was demanding, but\r\nonly mechanically so. Strictly speaking, he did not know what he was\r\ndoing. No one did, apparently. He did not have the satisfaction of\r\nknowing that what he did was real. He filled large sheets of plastic\r\nwith tracings of intricate, interconnected schematic hieroglyphs. But\r\nhe knew that in another place a template would be laid over his work.\r\nAn irregular portion like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle would be cut out\r\nof it and the rest, perhaps more than half of his work, would be\r\ndestroyed.\r\n\r\nIt was even possible that all of it was destroyed.\r\n\r\nDewforth worked for a firm which made components. Of what, no one\r\nsaid, no one asked. _Components, Inc._, the firm was called. He knew\r\nthat the finished products were small, heavy and very complicated.\r\nTheir names were mute combinations of letters and numbers, joined by\r\nhyphens or separated by virgules. Some said that these components\r\nperformed no functions. Others said that they worked, but their\r\noperations corresponded to no known human need. It was known that some\r\nof the finished products themselves were destroyed. Some maintained\r\nthat they were dissolved in vats of hydrofluoric acid. Others argued\r\nthat they were encased in cement, then taken out to sea in speedboats\r\non moonless nights and jettisoned. The favorite rumor was that the\r\nentire firm was a decoy to bewilder agents of foreign powers and\r\npre-empt their espionage efforts. There was neither proof of this nor\r\nevidence to the contrary.\r\n\r\nThe penalty for circulating this last rumor was immediate dismissal\r\nwith prejudice.\r\n\r\nIn another place, another time, Dewforth might have spread the burden\r\nof his mood by confiding in other workers, but not under the\r\ncircumstances so painstakingly arranged by _Components, Inc._ in the\r\ninterest of what was called _The Inter-loathing Index_, or I.I. It was\r\nan axiom of modern industry that a high I.I. meant high productivity\r\nand also tighter security. The latter was as much the measure of the\r\nimportance of an industry as what it made or how much. That there was\r\ndesign in the egg-box compartmentation of workspaces, for example, was\r\nobvious enough. Less overt were the lengths to which Personnel had\r\ngone to discourage the exchange of information, or confidences, among\r\nemployees.\r\n\r\nUnder the guise of aptitude testing, the psychologists had been able\r\nto select and organize teams consisting entirely of mutually\r\nincompatible individuals. So well had they succeeded that most workers\r\ncould barely stand the sight of one another, and so were driven back\r\nupon themselves and their work. Only by practicing an almost egg-like\r\nself-containment could a draftsman or other worker hope to get through\r\nthe day without open conflict and disaster.\r\n\r\nLatent antipathies among workers were further intensified by means of\r\nthe Annual Proficiency Competitions. At the conclusion of these tests\r\nall employees save two were given Proficiency Stars. Of the remaining\r\ntwo, one was invariably a person who had shown signs of becoming too\r\npopular among his fellows. He was given a Leadership Star, and because\r\nan affable man was usually less rather than more efficient than the\r\nrest, this made of him a lonely little air-bubble in a sea of\r\nresentment.\r\n\r\nThe second of the two workers was always discharged. Thus a dash of\r\nanxiety was added to the proceedings.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe visible manifestations of high I.I. were hectic color, a\r\ncharacteristic ferocity of eye and throbbing jaw-hinges. Often the\r\njaw-hinges of an entire team would be pulsating at once, sometimes\r\neven in unison. This spectacle emanated an overwhelming feeling of\r\nearnestness and purpose. Executives were fond of pointing out this\r\nphenomenon to visiting dignitaries. "Observe their jaw-hinges," they\r\nwould say.\r\n\r\nAnother factor which isolated employees from one another was the\r\npeculiarly virulent form of halitosis which afflicted all workers\r\nwithout exception. The company cafeteria was the source of this\r\nmalady.\r\n\r\nThus, if Dewforth had been the only employee in that vast complex of\r\nbuildings, or in the world, he could not have been restlessness. Add\r\nto this the fact that it had been his misfortune to win the Leadership\r\nStar in the Proficiency Competitions only three days earlier. He did\r\nnot have to trace the bitter stream of his mood any farther back than\r\nthat to find the bile-source.\r\n\r\nThe object of the contest had been to draw a single line 28-5/8 inches\r\nlong and 1/15,000 of an inch thick, a feat which is starkly simple in\r\nconception but only theoretically feasible. The draftsmen had spent\r\nhours preparing the surfaces of paper, straining ink through filters,\r\nhoning drawing pens with emery and polishing them with rouge, drawing\r\npractice lines and scrutinizing them with powerful bench microscopes.\r\nThey did Balinese finger exercises, Chinese body coordination\r\nexercises, Hindu breathing exercises and Tibetan spiritual\r\ncalisthenics to dispel their incipient shakes. When the great moment\r\ncame, a solemn little group of executives entered the drafting room\r\nand stood about in attitudes of grave ceremonial courtesy.\r\n\r\nThe draftsmen then drew their lines.\r\n\r\nWhen it was over, the judges examined and graded the lines and the\r\nscores were announced by Mr. Shrank, the foreman. The better scores\r\nprompted little flutters of restrained applause from the executives.\r\nThis moist and muted sound had reminded Dewforth of a hippopotamus\r\nventing its wind under water, and in a moment of thoughtless\r\nexhilaration he had even thought of sharing this bizarre notion with\r\nhis wife. He never did so, as it happened.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhy had he ever told his wife about that wretched Leadership Star? Her\r\nlaughter persisted through his dreams, or through his dream. He only\r\nhad one. In this dream she was always a massive machine which ingested\r\nsongbirds between steel rollers and stamped them into pipe-flange\r\ngaskets at a rate of one hundred and twenty per minute.\r\n\r\nAnd the prize-winning line he had drawn--it revealed its true nature\r\nin the perspective of days. There was no mistaking what it was. It was\r\nThe Abyss. It could widen and it could engulf. How much light would a\r\nLeadership Star cast in that bottomless inkiness?\r\n\r\nAcute restless had the effect of sending Dewforth frequently to the\r\nlavatory, not so much for physiological reasons as because there was\r\nno other place to go and he had to go somewhere when the white walls\r\nof the drafting room threatened to crush him. He went as often as he\r\nthought he could without attracting the attention of Mr. Shrank or\r\neliciting ponderous jocosities from the other workers. After several\r\nvisits, however, he did begin to question himself. What drew him to\r\nthat bleak refuge again and again? He was not aware of bladder\r\nirritation. He had no infantile obsession about such facilities. Was\r\nhe driven by an aggregation of petty forces, each too small to make\r\nsense by itself? Or was there one reason hiding behind a cloud of\r\nsmall rationalizations? There was a difference in the air in the\r\nlavatory, and in the sound--the undifferentiated background sound\r\nwhich came from nowhere. Nowhere?\r\n\r\nIt came through a window.\r\n\r\nHe had been staring at a window--probably the only one in the\r\nbuilding--and it had failed to register on his mind at the time\r\nbecause he had not expected it to be there. It was not part of the\r\nhabitual pattern. He had seen a window. He had, moreover, looked\r\nthrough a window. What had he seen? He thought about this, and at the\r\nsame time he thought about being sick--administratively sick. He\r\nsucceeded in working up a palpable fever and a windy yawning beneath\r\nthe diaphragm. Before taking any action he would have to confirm what\r\nhe had seen through the window of the lavatory.\r\n\r\nOn his last trip to the lavatory he climbed up onto the slippery\r\nwashbasin and looked through the high window. His position there would\r\nbe impossible to explain, of course, if anyone should come in. He was\r\npast caring about that. The unpasteurized air made him a little drunk\r\nand the sound--the immense distant sighing groan like a giant\'s\r\nwhisper--filled his brain. It made him want to expand to meet it\r\nsomehow.\r\n\r\nOnly one immense skeleton foot was visible, but there was no question\r\nabout exactly what it was.\r\n\r\nNo conventional structure would curve upward in that way. There was no\r\npoint of reference by which to determine how far away it was, and the\r\nair was blue with haze, giving everything an appearance of remoteness\r\nand of unreality. He had never seen the city from that angle before,\r\nbut if what he saw was what he thought it was, how could it have been\r\nso close without his knowing about it before this time? It was a thing\r\nwhich belonged to vast distances--spatial distances and other kinds of\r\ndistance as well. Now it was close, or he was closer to it than he had\r\never imagined he would be in his life.\r\n\r\nIt was accessible.\r\n\r\nDewforth left at half past three when the somnolence of afternoon was\r\nheaviest on the heads of the other draftsmen. He did not speak to Mr.\r\nShrank about it. He did not clear with Miss Plock in the dispensary,\r\nnor with Mr. Fert in Personnel, nor with Miss Yurt in Wage\r\nReadjustment, nor with Miss Bort in Sick Leave Subdivision, nor with\r\nMiss Vibe in Special Problems, nor with Mr. Pfister in Sick Claims,\r\nnor with Miss Grope in Employee Grievances, nor with Miss Rupnick in\r\nCompany Grievances, nor with Miss Guggward in Allowance Reductions,\r\nnor with Mr. Droon in Privilege Curtailment, nor with Miss Tremulo in\r\nPsychological Counseling, nor with Dr. Schreck in Spiritual Aid\r\nSubdiv.\r\n\r\nHe did not even trouble to see Miss Nosemilker who kept the time book.\r\n\r\nHe just left.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIII\r\n\r\n\r\n"Nobody goes up there," said the hulking oyster-eyed man in the burlap\r\novercoat.\r\n\r\nThe bum\'s eyes cleared long enough for him to peer into Dewforth\'s\r\neyes in order to see if his madness was worth sharing, then they\r\nfilmed over again as he decided that it was not.\r\n\r\nDewforth crowded past him and walked on. He was making real progress.\r\nHe had at last found someone who acknowledged that there was something\r\nup there above eye-level. The others--old lost children, figures of\r\nscab and grime--had been unaware of anything but inner cavities of\r\ncraving and fear above the sidewalk firmament of trodden gum disks,\r\nsputum stars and the ends of twice-smoked cigarettes.\r\n\r\nHe could not have lost sight of the Control Tower. He had never\r\nrealized what streets were. Before that time he had known a single\r\nwell policed block between the station and his place of work. He still\r\nthought of streets as more or less open strips along which people\r\nmoved, north or south, east or west, purposefully from Point A to\r\nPoint B with perhaps one right-angle turn, two at the most, pausing\r\nonly to tip hats or look into shop windows. Now it developed that\r\nstreets were sewers, battlegrounds, lairs, abattoirs, cesspools,\r\nlazarettes, midways of deformity and brawling markets where nightmares\r\nand spirochetes were sold.\r\n\r\nThe city had not less than three dimensions. He had not been fully\r\nprepared for the implications of this, either. Existence in three\r\ndimensions does not necessarily mean three-dimensional vision. The sky\r\nwas not visible through the maze of girders, stairways and catwalks\r\noverhead. Dewforth tried to orient himself by the direction of\r\nshadows, but this was misleading. It was the heart of the shadow\r\ndistrict, and the play of shadows was the order of things. The rules\r\nwere the rules of phantoms. Flesh lived there in subjection. Long\r\nmiscegenation with shadow had made phantoms of them all and endowed\r\nall shadows with the menace of the real. Everything was equivocal as\r\nhell.\r\n\r\nDewforth wandered in a cavern without walls. He saw bulky overcoats\r\nwith defeated hats or defeated heads; long-legged dwarfs in black\r\nleather jackets; willowy chorus-boys with platinum ringlets, waiting\r\nin their niches for the gift of violence; scuttling trolls with\r\nhorse-blanket jackets and alpine hats; deposed patriarchs under the\r\nsmall shelter of black derbies, hiding from persecution behind the\r\nSpanish moss of consolidated beards; headless things and thingless\r\nheads, importuning, threatening, watching or just standing there,\r\nthose that were able.\r\n\r\nIn his search for a way out of the darkness, he was obliged to turn\r\nback time and again. If gangs of shadows fought with knives at the end\r\nof a street which had at first looked promising, what business had\r\nshadows cursing or screaming or bleeding? If the madman who enjoined\r\nthe mob to fight in the service of nothingness was only a mouse\r\ndancing on a summit of garbage, why did they cheer? At the end of\r\nstill another street, a mass rape may not have been in progress; the\r\nparticipants may not have waited sullenly in a long line; a\r\nmacrocephalic gnome in a plaid suit may not actually have moved up and\r\ndown the line selling tickets at a reduced rate and explaining that\r\nthe outrage had been in progress since the preceding Christmas Eve:\r\nbut why was the unreality so consistant?\r\n\r\nAnd if no one was in fact being ravaged, why did everyone look as\r\nthough they had been?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAll these spectacles tested Dewforth\'s courage, but they dimmed his\r\nresolve not at all. At last he found a deserted street. He followed\r\nit and he was rewarded with encouraging signs. There was more birdlime\r\nunderfoot, and the inhuman yammering of the streets was replaced with\r\nechoing silence, and that silence was invaded by the sound--the voice\r\nof the colossus, remote and terrible.\r\n\r\nDewforth asked directions again, this time of a pear-shaped figure\r\nwhich may or may not have had legs and which sat in the mouth of an\r\niron cave and smoked what appeared to be a twist of hemp. "Where...."\r\nDewforth began.\r\n\r\n"Nobody goes up there," the hemp-smoker answered without looking up at\r\nhim.\r\n\r\n"Where do they come down, then," asked Dewforth, trying a new approach\r\nbut with little hope. There was a long pause. The pear-shaped man\r\ndidn\'t have arms either, Dewforth noticed. Hands, but no arms.\r\n\r\n"Well now, some got it, some ain\'t," he said.\r\n\r\n"How\'s that?" asked Dewforth. The pear blew out a cloud of smoke,\r\nsulphurous, with viscous strings through it. "I knowed a guy caught it\r\nfrom a drinking glass once."\r\n\r\nThis dialogue might have gone on much longer if Dewforth had not just\r\nthen noticed that his noninformer was sitting on the bottom step of a\r\nlong, dark stairway which led up and up into a jungle of lacy girders\r\nand shadows above them.\r\n\r\nHe did not bother kicking the pear-shaped man. He stepped over him and\r\nran up the stairs two at a time. His footsteps rang on the iron stairs\r\nand carried through the structure. It sounded like the bells of a\r\nsunken cathedral ringing in the tide.\r\n\r\nOn the second level there was more light and more air. It was colder.\r\nThere were loiterers on the second level too, but these were far from\r\nmenacing. They clung to things and pressed themselves against things,\r\nand they stared with unfocused eyes at something which had been there\r\nbefore but was not there now. These men seemed to be wearing greasy\r\nfezzes and dark, baggy long underwear with buttons and vestigial\r\nlapels. As he approached them, Dewforth saw that the fezzes were\r\nactually felt hats with the brims atrophied or rotted away, and the\r\nfunereal long-johns were the weatherbeaten remains of those suits\r\nwhich are designed for Young Men On The Way Up. As though by tacit\r\nagreement of long standing, these men did not look directly at\r\nDewforth as he passed, nor he at them.\r\n\r\nThere was no difficulty about finding a stairway to the next level,\r\nbut there was a rusty chain across the entrance.\r\n\r\nDewforth\'s foot caught in this chain as he stepped over it, and it\r\nshattered like a chain of stale pretzels. There were no more people\r\nbeyond the second level--none that could be seen.\r\n\r\nHe soon lost count of levels. Stairs became narrower and more heavily\r\nencrusted with birdlime and rust as he ascended. In some places there\r\nwere long sweeping ramps which led to blind sacs or reached out\r\nunsupported into space, and he was forced to retrace his steps. At no\r\ntime did he look down, even when it was possible. There were usually\r\nhigh barriers along the platforms and ramps. These were covered with\r\nlayers of old advertising posters which peeled and were torn by the\r\nwind, revealing still more ancient posters underneath. They seemed to\r\nhave grown there by themselves like lichen. It seemed entirely\r\nreasonable to Dewforth that the writing on the older posters\r\nunderneath was runic or demotic and the faces were ochre-stained\r\nskulls, but his impulse was to hurry past and not study them too\r\nclosely.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAt last he found a long steep ladder running up the outside of one of\r\nthe legs of the Control Tower. Only huge slowly circling birds and\r\nlow-flying clouds came between him and the underside of the control\r\nhouse at the top of the structure. Before beginning the climb he\r\nadmonished himself not to look down and not to ponder what he was\r\ndoing. In order to keep climbing, however, he had to keep admonishing\r\nhimself, thereby only reminding himself to look down and to ponder, to\r\nthe detriment of his equilibrium and confidence. Was it vertigo, or\r\ndid the ladder or the Tower itself sway in the singing wind? Who was\r\nto say that the earth itself did not heave like fermenting mash? Was\r\nany object inherently more solid than any other object? What was\r\n"stability"?\r\n\r\nWhen he looked down at the city he could not pick out the building in\r\nwhich he had worked. There was nothing in any feature of the\r\nlandscape. Nothing. If his position, clinging to a girder high above\r\nthe city, made no sense, it did not make less sense than the position\r\nof a man, or a Dewforth, sitting in a blind cell among thousands of\r\nother blind cells down there, drawing tiny lines. Nothing bound him to\r\nthe drafting room nor even to the Dewforth of the drafting room--not\r\nso much as a spider web or a shaft of light. The light pointed to\r\nitself. The wind got under his shirt and chilled his navel, a\r\npoignant reminder of disconnectedness.\r\n\r\nAn eagle glided close and screamed at him. It was like the laughter of\r\nhis wife. He resumed his climb, looking down no more.\r\n\r\nThe last few yards of the climb were the worst. Some bolts holding the\r\nladder in place were shapeless little masses of rust. The eleventh\r\nrung from the top broke under his weight, and for the last ten steps\r\nhe had to lighten his body by means of a technique of autosuggestion\r\nand will-projection which he invented on the spot, demonstrating what\r\ncould be done under pressure of extreme necessity. He could see above\r\nhis head a tiny balcony not more than a yard square, at which the\r\nladder terminated. The floor of this balcony appeared to be made of\r\nlong, weatherbeaten cigars which reason told him were badly corroded\r\niron bars. Reason also told him that there would be a door there.\r\n\r\nHe could not see a door through the skeleton floor of the balcony, but\r\nthe idea that there would not be a door there was, under the\r\ncircumstances, insupportable. There would be a door, he told himself\r\nas he made his way upwards by means of levitation and the most\r\ntentative of steps. It would probably have an inhospitable sign on\r\nit--NO TRESPASSING, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, DANGER or perhaps HIGH\r\nVOLTAGE. It might prove to be locked. If so, he would pound on it\r\nuntil some one opened it, he decided.\r\n\r\nThere was even an outside possibility that no one would be inside. He\r\nhad never considered that possibility before that time. He decided\r\nthat it was not time to consider it now.\r\n\r\nWhen Dewforth heaved himself up onto the small projecting platform he\r\nfelt the ladder give under his feet. It was not just another rung. He\r\nsaw the entire ladder go curling away into the emptiness like a huge\r\nbroken spring. Then he lay on the platform face down with his eyes\r\nclosed, fingers clutching the sill of the door, for a long time.\r\n\r\nNew sounds invaded his personal darkness as he lay there. He heard\r\nbells, buzzers, klaxons, whistles and slamming relays. There were\r\nvoices from loudspeakers--imperious and hopeless, angry and feeble,\r\nimpassioned and monotonous, arrogant and anguished--in a synthetic\r\nlanguage made up of odd phonemes long since discarded from a thousand\r\nother languages. When he looked up he saw no door but only a rectangle\r\nof darkness with erratic flashes of colored light.\r\n\r\nHaving no choice, he entered on his hands and knees.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIV\r\n\r\n\r\nDewforth wandered in a labyrinth of control panels which reached\r\nalmost to the ceiling, but did not entirely shut out the light. This\r\nlight was like skimmed milk diffused in shadow. He reasoned that it\r\ncame from windows, but when he tried to remember whether the control\r\ncab had windows he could not be sure. He had no visual image of\r\nwindows seen from the outside, but he had supposed that such an\r\nedifice would hardly be blind. Somewhere beyond this maze of control\r\npanels, he also reasoned, there must be an area like the bridge of an\r\nenormous ship where the clamor of the bells, buzzers, klaxons and\r\nwhistles and the silent warnings and importunings of dials, gauges,\r\ncolored lights, ticker-tapes which spewed from metal mouths, the\r\npalsied styles which scribbled on creeping scrolls, were somehow\r\ncollated and made meaningful, where the yammering loudspeakers could\r\nbe answered, and where the operators could look out and down and see\r\nwhat they were doing.\r\n\r\nWhere were the operators?\r\n\r\nThe noise was deafening. Unlike the noise of machinery in a factory it\r\nwas not homogeneous. Each sound was intended to attract attention and\r\nto evoke a certain response, but what response and from whom? Long\r\nlevers projecting from the steel deck wagged back and forth\r\nspastically like the legs of monstrous insects struggling on their\r\nbacks. Several times Dewforth was temporarily blinded by an explosion\r\nof blue light as a fuse blew or something short-circuited among the\r\nrows of knife-switches and rheostats on the panels. One would never\r\nreally get used to the sporadic sound or to the lights. There was no\r\nknowable pattern about them--about what they did or said. When he\r\nclosed his eyes and tried to compose himself the words _Out of\r\nControl_ flashed red against the back of his eyelids, but he told\r\nhimself that this was foolish. How was one to adjudge a situation to\r\nbe Out of Control when one did not know what constituted control, over\r\nwhat, or by whom? Furthermore, he rebuked himself, if the\r\npanels--never mind how many or how forbidding--with their lights,\r\nbells, buzzers, switches, relays, dials, gauges, styles, tapes,\r\npointers, rheostats and buttons had any meaning, and in fact if the\r\nTower itself had any meaning at all, that meaning was _Control_. How\r\narrogant it had been of him to imagine, even briefly, that because\r\nhe--a green intruder in that high place--had not immediately\r\ncomprehended what it was all about, the situation must be out of\r\ncontrol. _Absurd!_\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere were hundreds--perhaps thousands--of little labels attached to\r\nthe control panels, presumably indicating the functions of the\r\nbuttons, switches and other controls. Dewforth leaned close and\r\nstudied these, but found only mute combinations of letters and\r\nnumbers, joined by hyphens or separated by virgules.... They made him\r\nfeel somewhat more fragile, more round-shouldered and colder, but he\r\nresisted despair. It was getting a little darker, though. The\r\nskimmed-milk light above him was taking on a bluish tint. He had no\r\nway of knowing how long he had wandered among the control panels. His\r\ntime-sense had always been dependent upon clocks and bells--and upon\r\nthe arrivals and departures of trains.\r\n\r\nIt was a sound which finally led Dewforth out of the maze of control\r\npanels.\r\n\r\nIt was not a louder sound, not more emphatic, imperative or clear than\r\nthe others; it was formless, feeble and ineffably pathetic. It was\r\nits utter incongruity which reached Dewforth through the robotic\r\nclamor, and which touched him ... a mewing, as of a kitten trapped in\r\na closet.\r\n\r\nIt came, as he discovered, from The Operator.\r\n\r\nHe was quite alone among his levers, wheels, switches, buttons,\r\ncranks, gauges, lights, bells, buzzers, horns, ticker-tapes, creeping\r\nscrolls, barking loudspeakers and cryptic dials. Dewforth saw him\r\nsharply silhouetted against a long window through which bluish-gray\r\nlight poured but through which nothing could be clearly seen from\r\nwhere he stood. The Operator sat on a high, one-legged stool. His head\r\nwas drawn into his shoulders, which were crumpled things of birdlike\r\nbones. His head was bald on top but the fringe was long and wild. He\r\nhad big simian ears set at right angles to his head and the light\r\nshone through them, not pink but yellowish. There was an aureole of\r\nfine hairs about them which gave them the appearance of angel\'s wings.\r\nWith enlarged hands at the ends of almost fleshless arms he clutched\r\nat the knobs of rheostats and the cranks of transformers, hesitantly,\r\nspasmodically, and without ever quite reaching anything. Each time he\r\nwithdrew his hands quickly as though he had been on the point of\r\ntouching something very hot. His arms might have been elongated by a\r\nlifetime of such aborted movement.\r\n\r\nJust as Dewforth began to wonder how his sudden appearance there would\r\naffect the old man, feeble and distraught as he already was, the\r\nOperator whirled on his stool and stared at Dewforth with eyes so\r\nround, so huge and so terrified that the rest of his face was not\r\nnoticeable at all.\r\n\r\nHe shouted something that sounded like "_Huzzah!_" but almost\r\ncertainly was not, then stiffened, then fell to the steel deck with no\r\nmore fuss than a bag of corn-husks would have made, and died.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOne would think that a windowed control cab or wheelhouse atop the\r\nloftiest structure in a city, or in an entire landscape, would afford\r\na man an Olympian view of the world below, and of its people and their\r\nactivities.\r\n\r\nDewforth must have believed this at one time, but he found that it was\r\nnot so. The entire lower portion of the windows was covered with thin\r\npages of typescript, mostly yellowed, dusty and curled at the\r\nedges--orders, instructions, directives, memoranda, all _Urgent_, _For\r\nImmediate Action_, _Important_, _Priority_, _On No Account_, or _At\r\nAll Costs_.\r\n\r\nThe texts of these orders, instructions, directives or memoranda\r\nconsisted of mute combinations of letters and numbers, joined by\r\nhyphens or separated by virgules.\r\n\r\nThrough the upper portion of the windows Dewforth could just make out\r\nthe horizon and a narrow strip of darkening sky, which were silent and\r\nwhich demanded nothing of him. Amid the continuing clamor of all the\r\nsignal devices, he tried to recapture the last utterance of the\r\nOperator--the former Operator.\r\n\r\n"_Huzzah!_" was out of the question. "_Who\'s there?_" or "_Who\'s\r\nthat?_" were more likely, but, as he thought of it, weren\'t "_Whose\r\nwhat?_", "_What\'s where?_", "_Where\'s what?_" or even "_Who\'s where?_"\r\njust as likely?\r\n\r\nOf these possible last words, "_Who\'s where?_" echoed most\r\npersistently in his memory.\r\n\r\nDewforth might have torn away the pages of meaningless orders and\r\nlooked down upon lights as darkness fell, but he did not.\r\n\r\nOpaque as they were in form and content alike, there was something\r\nreassuringly familiar in the lines of inane symbols. And they were all\r\nthat stood between him and the approaching tidal wave of night, and\r\nbeyond the night, the winter with its storms.\r\n\r\n --WILL MOHLER\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n | Typographical errors corrected in text: |\r\n | |\r\n | Page 139: "more efficient that the rest" replaced with |\r\n | "more efficient than the rest" |\r\n | Page 141: whispper replaced with whisper |\r\n | Page 141: disance replaced with distance |\r\n | Page 143: "the participants many not have waited" |\r\n | replaced with |\r\n | "the participants may not have waited" |\r\n | Page 143: spectacle replaced with spectacles |\r\n | Page 147: homogenous replaced with homogeneous |\r\n | Page 149: "Where\'s what" replaced with "Where\'s what?" |\r\n | |\r\n +-----------------------------------------------------------+\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE CONTROL TOWER ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Ambush: A Terran Empire vignette'

'Wilson, Ann'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Ambush: A Terran Empire vignette\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\n*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below. ***\r\n*** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***\r\n\r\n\r\nTitle: Ambush: A Terran Empire vignette\r\n\r\nAuthor: Ann Wilson\r\n\r\nRelease date: June 9, 2008 [eBook #25740]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMBUSH: A TERRAN EMPIRE VIGNETTE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Al Haines\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n +------------------------------------------------------+\r\n | This work is licenced under a Creative Commons |\r\n | Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 |\r\n | Licence. |\r\n | |\r\n | http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ |\r\n +------------------------------------------------------+\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nAMBUSH\r\n\r\nA Terran Empire vignette\r\n\r\nby Ann Wilson\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCopyright (C) 1992 by Ann Wilson\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPalace Complex, 2578 CE\r\n\r\nIt wouldn\'t be easy ferreting out the identity of the field agent who\'d\r\nsaved his bio-father\'s life twelve years ago. It wasn\'t supposed to be\r\neasy--ideally, it would be impossible--and Nevan was sure he owed his\r\nown life, perhaps several times over, to the Imperial safeguards he was\r\ntrying to break. More, he understood why those safeguards wouldn\'t be\r\nrelaxed even to allow an ex-agent to search out a still-active one--but\r\nhe had what he considered two excellent reasons to do exactly that.\r\n\r\nThe first was that his bio-father had died, and had wanted Nevan to\r\ngive the anonymous agent his personal weapons: two forearm throwing\r\nknives, a belt knife, and a needler. The one he had sworn fealty to\r\nhad agreed that his father\'s wish made it a matter of honor that he\r\ntry, and had given him permission--but on condition that he use only\r\nhis own training and skills, taking no advantage of the fact that he\r\nwas sworn to one of the most powerful people in the Empire. Nevan was\r\ncertain in his own mind that if he failed, she would see that the agent\r\ngot the weapons intended for him, but his thakur\'s overt reason for\r\nagreeing was that it would make a good test of IntelDiv\'s security. If\r\nhe were arrested, she would have him released and commend the people\r\nwho had done it; if he got through, she would have security procedures\r\ntightened. Neither paid serious attention to the fact that if he were\r\ncaught under certain circumstances she would have no chance to protect\r\nhim; he would be shot on sight.\r\n\r\nNevan thought that perfectly reasonable. He was a Sandeman warrior,\r\nafter all, and his thakur was an Irschchan; risks were a normal part of\r\nlife for both of them, to be accepted and even savored for the spice\r\nthey added.\r\n\r\nHe had done all he could here, in the Records Section; he lowered his\r\nmind-shield and reached out. *Thakur?*\r\n\r\nHer answer was prompt, and he smiled to himself, enjoying the cool\r\nclarity of her mind-touch. *What results, thakur-na?* she asked.\r\n\r\n*About what we expected. Kelly told me the agent was Logistics Officer\r\nat a base on Piper\'s World during the Traiti counter-attacks there, but\r\nhe never told me which base, and the description he gave fits five of\r\nthem. I was able to eliminate two of those because the Logistics\r\nOfficers were female--but that still leaves three. I\'m going to have\r\nto go under cover to find the right one.*\r\n\r\nHe "heard" the amused purr that was the Irschchan version of a laugh.\r\n*A return to the field work you enjoy so must be a terrible sacrifice,\r\nmy Nevan.*\r\n\r\nNevan let his thoughts lapse into High War Speech, chuckling. *Nay,\r\nThakur, as thou knowest well--save that it does mean I must conceal thy\r\nmark, lest it identify me and make thy object in this attempt no true\r\ntest.*\r\n\r\n*Aye, but it should not be for long.*\r\n\r\n*And I knew when I swore that I might have to do it,* Nevan agreed.\r\n*Until my success or failure, then.*\r\n\r\nThree days later he was far from Terra, the violet-flower tattoo on his\r\ncheek concealed by synthiskin, in a small Kanchatka-class courier ship.\r\nThat was a definite luxury for a private individual, though not\r\nunreasonable for a Sandeman warrior who\'d done well securing private\r\nemployment and wanted more--who was, in short, a very good, very\r\nexpensive hired killer. There weren\'t many, granted; killing for its\r\nown sake wasn\'t highly regarded on Sandeman, especially if anything\r\nmore honorable was available, but there were enough to make his cover\r\nplausible.\r\n\r\nThis, he had decided, was going to be fun.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nA couple of days later, he was less sure. He\'d come away from the\r\nPalace Complex with as much solid data as he\'d ever had starting a\r\nmission, and with as much enthusiasm, but he\'d begun feeling less than\r\ncomfortable about this one. Part of it was because he was pursuing\r\nsomeone he would probably like to have as a friend; the unknown agent\r\ndidn\'t deserve to be hunted, though Nevan had to reluctantly concede\r\nthat it was probably the best way to accomplish his thakur\'s mission.\r\nThe other part was that he couldn\'t seem to decide whether or not he\r\nreally wanted to catch his target. He wanted to make sure the weapons\r\nwere delivered, yes, and since his chosen lady wanted a good test of\r\nIntelDiv\'s security, he had to want it too--but he wasn\'t happy about\r\nwhat those desires implied: It was almost inevitable that he\'d have to\r\nuse some of a field agent\'s less savory skills. He\'d used them before,\r\noften enough, and without qualms--against the Empire\'s enemies. He had\r\nnever used them against people who had done nothing to deserve such\r\ntreatment, and he didn\'t really want to.\r\n\r\nHe didn\'t have any choice, though. He would do whatever proved to be\r\nnecessary to accomplish his objectives.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThree weeks, five planetfalls, and almost 1500 light-years of routine\r\nchecking later, Nevan discovered his quarry\'s name: Kiyoshi Owajima.\r\nSo far he\'d had to resort to nothing more drastic than reading and\r\ncasual conversation, but learning he was after Owajima left him both\r\ndisgusted at the gods\' whimsical ordering of things and positive that\r\nthings would be getting unpleasant rather shortly. He\'d never met\r\nOwajima, though he\'d wanted to, and when Nevan had left IntelDiv on\r\nswearing fealty to Ranger Losinj, Owajima had taken over the top field\r\nagent rating. Owajima was no Sandeman, but IntelDiv rumor had him\r\nclose; he was supposed to have been a Kai-school ninja before joining\r\nthe Corps, and his exploits since hadn\'t done anything to contradict\r\nthe rumor. Nevan scowled at that; he hated having to depend on rumor.\r\nDoing that tended to get agents killed--but unless you worked in the\r\nclassified section of Personnel Records or knew the agent personally,\r\nrumor was all you\'d have on one. And in Owajima\'s case, as in Nevan\'s\r\nown, there wasn\'t even much rumor.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nKiyoshi Owajima concealed a scowl when he finished decoding his\r\ninformant\'s message and read it. He had a pursuer, it seemed--a\r\nSandeman warrior named Vance DarLowrie, and the informant was convinced\r\nDarLowrie was one of the rare, expensive, and fearsome Sandeman\r\nfree-lance assassins. That conviction was strengthened by the fact that\r\nDarLowrie had his own ship, the Last Resort, and it was registered to\r\nhim personally rather than to Clan Lowrie. The Sandeman would neither\r\nconfirm nor deny that occupation, of course, but the simple fact that\r\nhe was attempting to trace an IntelDiv field agent lent still further\r\ncredence to the informant\'s conclusion.\r\n\r\nOwajima would have liked more information, but it seemed prudent to act\r\non the informant\'s suspicions. The Sandeman had filed a flight plan\r\nfor Olathe, where Owajima had spent some time and built up a\r\nrespectable net; that seemed most promising. It was unfortunate,\r\nOwajima thought, that he was unable to investigate DarLowrie himself;\r\nthat would have to wait until he was finished with the final touches on\r\nhis present case, a matter of a day or two.\r\n\r\nStill, he could begin making preparations. He would be entitled to a\r\nleave after this mission, and he had planned to take it at home on\r\nNippon-Ni; that was now an even better idea. His contacts on his home\r\nworld made his networks elsewhere, good as they were, seem like\r\nchildren\'s clubs--and it should not be difficult at all to permit\r\nDarLowrie to "discover" those intentions. It would undoubtedly be\r\nunpleasant for the one he discovered them from, since it was unlikely\r\nDarLowrie would believe information he obtained too easily.\r\n\r\nThat, however, was not a serious problem; a number of his Olathe\r\nnetwork owed him enough that he could call on them even for such a\r\nservice. It would take DarLowrie perhaps a week to reach Olathe,\r\nanother week and a half to get to Nippon-Ni; that would give Owajima\r\ntime to make adequate preparations, then visit with his family for\r\nseveral days. He smiled to himself, transmitted the necessary\r\nmessages, and returned his attention to his immediate mission.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNevan entered the Lucky Bull, a medium-priced bar near the Olathe City\r\nspaceport, and ordered a glass of chocolate milk before finding a table\r\nnear the rear of the main room. In the early days after Annexation,\r\nhe\'d heard, bars had carried alcoholic beverages almost exclusively,\r\nand Sandemans were made fun of for drinking only the non-alcoholic\r\nvariety, but by the time he\'d started frequenting bars as an excellent\r\nsource of information, the sweet high-energy beverages Sandemans\r\npreferred were as normal as alcohol.\r\n\r\nIf he had Owajima figured correctly, someone at one of his last two or\r\nthree stops should have been in his target\'s network, and contacted\r\nhim. Even if, as Nevan thought probable, Owajima was working on the\r\nBracei case, he\'d make time to have a presumed assassin investigated.\r\nThat was why Nevan had made no secret of his last destinations,\r\nfollowing his flight plans precisely as he\'d filed them. That, and the\r\nfact that a Sandeman hired killer shouldn\'t display the subtleties and\r\nprecautions that would mark him as having had Imperial training of any\r\nsort, particularly a field agent\'s training; the two simply didn\'t go\r\ntogether.\r\n\r\nA tall man in Marine service dress with captain\'s bars approached\r\nNevan\'s table, carrying a drink. "Mind if I join you, warrior?" he\r\nasked.\r\n\r\n"If you wish, Captain."\r\n\r\nThe other sat, looking him over; Nevan returned the scrutiny, waiting.\r\n\r\n"I\'m Kim Johansen, of SecuDiv," the Marine said at last. "You\'re Vance\r\nDarLowrie, just in on the Last Resort?"\r\n\r\nNevan nodded. "I am, Captain Johansen. What of it?"\r\n\r\n"If you\'re what rumor calls you and your ship\'s name implies, I\'d\r\nadvise you to lay low. The Baron here takes a dim view of assassins."\r\n\r\n"Most people do, except those who have need of one. I thank you for\r\nyour concern, though; I will be careful."\r\n\r\n"Good." Johansen sipped at his drink, frowned. "A warrior of your\r\nclan saved my life during the war. I feel a certain obligation to\r\nrepay that debt, even if I don\'t particularly approve of your\r\noccupation myself."\r\n\r\n"There\'s no proof I\'m what you guess."\r\n\r\n"The fact you don\'t deny it will be enough for most." Johansen showed\r\nbrief distaste, swallowed the rest of his drink, and rose. "I can\'t\r\nwish you luck, since that\'d mean wishing someone else dead. But I can\r\nwish it for your clan, and I do."\r\n\r\nNevan rose to bow. "I will pass your wishes, and word of your\r\nrepayment, to the Lowrie. Go in peace, Captain Johansen--and please\r\naccept my wishes for your well-being. Whatever you think of me or my\r\nprofession--" most Imperials were as dubious of field agents as they\r\nwere of assassins--"I want only the best for the Empire and its\r\nofficers."\r\n\r\n"Sandemans don\'t lie, so I accept that," Johansen said. Then,\r\ngrudgingly, "Thank you, warrior." With that he left, abruptly.\r\n\r\nNevan allowed himself a small smile, then went to get more chocolate\r\nmilk. Not too promising so far, but he hadn\'t been here long, either.\r\n\r\nPerhaps half an hour after he returned to his table, another man\r\napproached, this one in an expensive suit. "Vance DarLowrie?"\r\n\r\n"Yes." Nevan recognized the type; a businesser who\'d made enemies and\r\nwanted either protection or one of them eliminated. "I am not\r\navailable at the moment."\r\n\r\n"You have other employment?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s none of your concern."\r\n\r\nThe businesser sat. "It is if your target is Kiyoshi Owajima, as I\'ve\r\nheard. I have reason to want him . . . out of the picture."\r\n\r\n"Oh?" Nevan remained noncommittal, but allowed himself to show a trace\r\nof interest. "I understand he\'s an Imperial officer--a dangerous\r\ntarget. Killing him would earn the death penalty or life\r\nimprisonment--death, if done simply for pay. That\'s a foolish risk,\r\nwhen there are any number of almost riskless targets around."\r\n\r\n"I can tell you where he\'s going when he finishes his current mission."\r\n\r\n"Interesting, if true," Nevan acknowledged.\r\n\r\n"It\'s true," the businesser said.\r\n\r\nReading his face and body language, Nevan agreed. The man knew, was\r\neager to say--and would report to Owajima as soon as he could. Nevan\r\nmade himself look skeptical, which wasn\'t hard; this was obviously a\r\nsetup. "Even if he were my target, which I do not say, I would want\r\nmore than your unsupported word. Will you submit to truth drugs, or\r\nshall I use Sandeman methods?"\r\n\r\n"Torture, you mean." The businesser grimaced. "In my position, I\r\ndon\'t dare submit to truth drugs. And I\'ve no desire to use my pain to\r\nconvince you I\'m telling the truth."\r\n\r\nNevan shrugged. "Those are the alternatives." He didn\'t particularly\r\nlike torture himself, and especially disliked using it on one of a\r\nfield agent\'s network. But an enemy would have no hesitation, and\r\nuntil he caught up with Owajima--or was caught himself--he was acting\r\nin that capacity. "If you are convinced Owajima is my target, and you\r\nwish to assist me in finding him, you will choose one. Otherwise, you\r\nwill depart."\r\n\r\nThe businesser looked angry, but Nevan could see he\'d expected\r\nsomething of the sort. "The torture, then. When and where?"\r\n\r\n"My ship, now." Nevan stood. "Come along."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNevan scowled down at the unconscious businesser. He\'d restricted his\r\nopen questioning to Owajima\'s plans and next location--his homeworld,\r\nnot surprisingly--but he\'d done some questioning covertly as well,\r\nmaking comments about Owajima and reading the answers from his\r\nsubject\'s face and body language. The man had confirmed an opinion\r\nNevan had formed early: given the opportunity, he and Owajima could\r\neasily become friends.\r\n\r\nThis man, for instance. He\'d owed Owajima a debt, true, but it had\r\nbeen loyalty rather than obligation that had led him to help the way he\r\nhad. Assuming he was successful in this mission, Nevan thought, he\'d\r\nhave to see the businesser got some sort of compensation. Though the\r\nman had definitely been in serious pain, Nevan had inflicted no real\r\ndamage beyond bruises; when the man woke, he\'d be able to function\r\nnormally.\r\n\r\nNevan was tempted to clean the man up, put him to bed, and dose him\r\nwith rapid-heal--but that wasn\'t how one with his cover occupation\r\nwould act. Instead, he got an injector of energine and triggered it\r\ninto the businesser\'s carotid artery. Seconds later, the man\'s eyes\r\nopened and he groaned. "Are you done yet?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. You may get dressed and leave. I would advise you to waste no\r\ntime; liftoff is in ten minutes."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll be gone." The man struggled to his feet and into the small\r\n\'fresher, where Nevan had had him leave his clothing; less than two\r\nminutes later he was leaving the ship.\r\n\r\nNevan had his flight plan ready by then. He transmitted it to the\r\nspaceport controller, got clearance, and was lifting off at the\r\nspecified time. Not long afterward, he was far enough from the planet\r\nto make the transition to hyperspace, and did so.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOwajima smiled as he read his agent\'s decoded message. DarLowrie had\r\nacted precisely as could be expected from a Sandeman assassin, it\r\nseemed, though Owajima was pleased his agent reported nothing more\r\nserious than bruises. He frowned, though, when he reached the last\r\nparagraph.\r\n\r\n"Personal impressions: I can\'t pinpoint it, but something about him\r\nreminds me of you. The feeling you give me of being looked into more\r\nthan at, maybe. It\'s not the typical Sandeman arrogance that makes you\r\nfeel like you\'re not worth the bother of looking at--it\'s more like\r\nbeing under a microscope. I\'m sorry to be so vague, but as I said,\r\nthere wasn\'t anything definite I can point to."\r\n\r\nA feeling of being looked into rather than at. Owajima frowned more\r\ndeeply. That bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a particularly\r\nobservant person\'s reaction to someone who was reading @\'s face and\r\nbody language. That was not a common skill, particularly among\r\nSandemans--though he had to admit it would be as useful a skill for an\r\nassassin as it was for a field agent.\r\n\r\nIn which case, it was possible DarLowrie had obtained more information\r\nthan Owajima had intended--including that the information had been set\r\nup for him to find. And where had DarLowrie learned such a skill? Not\r\non any of the Sandeman worlds, which weren\'t given to such subtleties.\r\nThe only places Owajima knew, in fact, that taught more than the most\r\nbasic such reading were the Kai school here, and the Imperial field\r\nagent school on Terra. No Sandeman had ever studied here, and he was\r\naware of only one who had successfully completed field agent training--his\r\npredecessor as top agent, Nevan DarLeras, now sworn to the Crown\r\nPrincess by the totally-binding Sandeman personal-fealty oath.\r\n\r\nThat left a graduate of one of those two schools as DarLowrie\'s\r\nteacher. An ex-field agent was by far the more likely, if only because\r\nthere were many more of them, and few Kai-school ninjas left Nippon-Ni.\r\nTake that as a working hypothesis, then. In that case, was it likely\r\nthe agent had taught DarLowrie only face and body reading?\r\n\r\nIt would be safest, Owajima thought, to operate on the worst-case\r\nassumption that DarLowrie had learned most, if not all, of an agent\'s\r\nskills. He would need them, if he had any intention of assassinating\r\nOwajima on his home territory and then escaping.\r\n\r\nShould he simply eliminate DarLowrie, or would it be better to capture\r\nand question him? The second, Owajima decided almost immediately.\r\nThat would be more difficult, but it might be a good idea to discover\r\nthe agent reckless enough to teach such skills to anyone able to pay--and\r\ndiscourage . . .\r\n\r\nHe was going to do it himself. He could and would ask for help from\r\nhis former colleagues, the Shogun\'s secret police--but attempted murder\r\nof an Imperial officer was an Imperial crime; they didn\'t have\r\njurisdiction. He could call in assistance, but that was something\r\nfield agents were, as an occupational characteristic, disinclined to do\r\nunless there was no other way to get the job done--which, at this\r\npoint, was not the case.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNevan spent the first two days of his flight to Nippon-Ni studying\r\neverything the Last Resort\'s ship-comp had available about that planet.\r\nIt sounded interesting, and he decided he\'d like to visit sometime when\r\nhe could do so openly; it had been settled by Japanese who wanted to\r\nreturn to the days of the Samurai, without giving up modern\r\nconveniences or an industrial base. They even called their Baron the\r\n"Shogun", on-planet.\r\n\r\nBut it also looked like a dangerous place to operate. The Shogun\'s\r\nsecret police force was made up of the Kai-school ninjas Owajima was\r\nrumored to have been, and it seemed possible he\'d been one of them\r\nbefore joining the Corps. If so, he\'d undoubtedly use them for\r\nbackup--which meant going in, Nevan thought, would be like sticking his\r\nhead in a balik\'s den. A female balik\'s, with newborn cubs. One alerted\r\nfield agent would be bad enough; a police force of agent-equivalents\r\n. . . the smart thing would be to call it off, go back to Terra, set up\r\na new identity, and start over. He did know who his quarry was, now; he\r\nwouldn\'t be starting from scratch.\r\n\r\nHe was reluctant to do that, though. He\'d done nothing even the most\r\nfanatical secret police could legally arrest him for; it seemed a shame\r\nto abandon his mission when he was so close to accomplishing it. Being\r\narrested without cause would be justification for mind-calling his\r\nthakur, and he was sure she\'d intervene; Owajima had to be the only\r\nagent with an entire planetary police force to call on for backup,\r\nwhich made him an unrepresentative opponent. Besides, Nevan admitted,\r\nhe relished the challenge. He hadn\'t had the opportunity to really use\r\nhis abilities in longer than he cared to think about.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOwajima answered his phone, to see the chief of spaceport security.\r\n"Yes, Captain?"\r\n\r\n"The Last Resort just called for landing, Colonel. Do you want us to\r\ndetain DarLewies?"\r\n\r\n"No, thank you. Permit him to land and do as he wishes, but keep him\r\nunder close surveillance. Discreetly, of course."\r\n\r\nThe security chief smiled. "Of course, Colonel. We will keep you\r\ninformed at all times. Will you need any further assistance?"\r\n\r\n"I do not believe so, but if I should, I will ask."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNevan had to land at the New Tokyo civilian spaceport, but he was\r\nlikeliest to be able to get current information about Owajima at the\r\nnearby Imperial Navy base, so he rented a car and drove the twenty\r\nkilometers north. He\'d been on so many worlds that he didn\'t find\r\nNippon-Ni particularly remarkable, though he was pleased that the\r\ntemperature was high enough he didn\'t need a jacket. And the smell of\r\nchocolate chip cookies or a close local equivalent coming from a shop\r\nhe passed was tempting enough to make his mouth water, but he kept\r\ngoing; Nevan DarLeras\' fondness for those was well enough known in the\r\nwrong circles that he didn\'t dare indulge it when he was under cover.\r\n\r\nThings were definitely not going his way, he decided as he neared the\r\nbase. Traffic was too heavy for a normal workday, and he found out why\r\nwhen he got close to the main gate: a banner over the road welcomed\r\nvisitors to the annual Base Open House. Nevan addressed a caustic,\r\n"Why me?" to the gods he only half-believed in, but it might look\r\nsuspicious if he turned and left; instead, he kept going with traffic,\r\nwhich took him to a parking area that would need major help to look\r\nlike a lawn again after being used this way.\r\n\r\nThere wasn\'t anything useful he could accomplish during an open house,\r\nwith all the base offices closed, so he decided he might as well bow to\r\nthe inevitable and try to enjoy himself. Such events did have their\r\ngood points; the various units\' hospitality stands tried to outdo each\r\nother, so the quality and variety of food and drink available was truly\r\nimpressive. He should be able to find treats he liked almost as well\r\nas chocolate chip cookies, but ones that wouldn\'t blow his cover. He\r\nwalked toward the exhibit-covered landing field, glad that he\'d kept\r\nhis identity as a Sandeman warrior; as crowded as the area was, he was\r\ngiven plenty of room to move. He was impressed despite himself by the\r\nexhibits, too. Whoever was in charge of this open house had managed to\r\nget a heavy destroyer for a static display--and while those were\r\nnowhere near as big as the kilometer-diameter battle cruisers, which\r\nwere far too big to land, they were quite big enough to have the\r\nvisitors making awed comments.\r\n\r\nCurious, Nevan walked around the ship until he found its ID--and then\r\nhe sent another caustic comment to one of the newest gods. *Dammit,\r\nKelly, if you want me to deliver your blades to Owajima, how about some\r\ncooperation instead of all these problems?*\r\n\r\nThe destroyer was the IHD Warleader Riordan, a ship from the Fiftieth\r\nFleet, which meant it was crewed primarily by Sandemans. That was bad\r\nenough, but a good percentage on this particular ship were from Clan\r\nLeras, so even the ones not directly related to him would know him on\r\nsight. And they weren\'t IntelDiv; they wouldn\'t know not to recognize\r\nhim. He turned and began walking away, hoping against hope that the\r\ncrew was still all aboard ship. He\'d been lucky enough not to get\r\ncaught in such a situation during his active career; maybe that luck\r\nwould hold long enough for him to get out of this one.\r\n\r\n"Nevan!"\r\n\r\nThe happy voice from behind him made it all too clear his luck had\r\nchanged. He turned and bowed respectfully to the approaching\r\nwarriors\'-woman in Imperial Marine service black. "Good day, Lady\r\nMorna. You\'re looking well."\r\n\r\nShe looked at him with affectionate appraisal, and shook her head\r\nruefully. "I can\'t say the same for you, I\'m afraid. How long have\r\nyou been on the meds?"\r\n\r\n"Almost a month," Nevan admitted. He might have been able to get away\r\nwith lying to another w\'woman, but the lady Morna could tell--whether\r\nby looking or by some form of Talent--almost to the day how long a\r\nwarrior had been using anti-need medications. And she didn\'t approve\r\nof them being used any longer than was absolutely necessary.\r\n\r\n"I thought so. Are you going to be around long enough for me to give\r\nyou a natural release?"\r\n\r\nNevan was tempted, but he shook his head. He\'d have to leave as soon\r\nas he could; now that his cover was blown, he had no choice but to give\r\nup this try and start over. "I\'m afraid I have to get back to Terra."\r\n\r\nMorna nodded, glancing at the synthiskin-covered cheek. "Of course; I\r\ndidn\'t realize. But when you do, promise me that you\'ll find a w\'woman\r\nor warrior and get a decent natural release."\r\n\r\n"I will, lady," Nevan replied, grateful for her understanding. "Or a\r\nTraiti; some of the Palace Guard have given me good combat releases."\r\n\r\n"That will do." Morna smiled at him. "At least you haven\'t gone six\r\nmonths on the meds, the way you had when I first met you! But can you\r\nstay a little while? Our autochef bakes good cookies. Including\r\nchocolate chip."\r\n\r\nNevan chuckled, deciding that an hour or so shouldn\'t really make any\r\ndifference. "I\'d like that; thanks."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe receiver in Owajima\'s ear chimed softly; he turned on his throat\r\nmike--not the surgically implanted comm unit many ranking Imperials\r\nwere given, but the external type used as far back as pre-atomic\r\ntimes--and answered. "Owajima here."\r\n\r\n"DarLowrie went to the open house, Colonel--and one of those on the\r\ndestroyer static display recognized him. His name is Nevan, and he has\r\naccepted an invitation to visit the ship."\r\n\r\n"Nevan!" Owajima exclaimed. "What clan, do you know?"\r\n\r\n"It was not said, but the largest clan group aboard is from Leras."\r\n\r\n"Ah." Owajima was silent for several seconds, absorbing that. "Is\r\nthere a tattoo on his right cheek?"\r\n\r\n"There is not."\r\n\r\n"Interesting--thank you. I will need some assistance after all, it\r\nappears; I would like to get into his ship with as few traces as\r\npossible."\r\n\r\n"An entry specialist will be with you in ten minutes. Is there\r\nanything else?"\r\n\r\n"Not at the moment. Owajima out." So his pursuer\'s true name was\r\nNevan, Owajima thought, troubled. And the ship\'s largest contingent\r\nwas from Leras. Knowing both Sandemans and the unconditional nature of\r\nthe personal fealty oath, he found it hard to believe his pursuer\'s\r\nidentity. What had gone wrong, to turn a Sandeman warrior from\r\nthakur-na to renegade assassin?\r\n\r\nOr . . . had anything? If Nevan had either deserted or harmed his\r\nchosen lady, it would have been all over the news channels, and there\r\nhad been nothing. The likelihood, then, was that he was on a mission\r\nfor her--a mission that somehow concerned him.\r\n\r\nOwajima smiled slowly at that. Very well, he would take all possible\r\nprecautions, though he no longer believed they would be necessary.\r\nNevan DarLeras had a powerful and trained Talent, something "Vance\r\nDarLowrie" had shown no traces of--so he was not using either that or\r\nRanger Losinj\'s position to simplify his mission. An exercise of some\r\nsort, then--security, in all probability. If true, it could be proven\r\neasily, Owajima thought, and he would have the pleasure of meeting his\r\npredecessor.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNevan enjoyed both the cookies and the talk, though he kept an eye on\r\nthe time and didn\'t let himself relax too much. Owajima was alerted\r\nnow, and field agents tended to have a rather violent reaction to\r\nsomeone stalking them for unknown purposes. Nevan couldn\'t blame them;\r\nhe\'d reacted the same way when one of his net had warned him someone\r\nwas on his trail. About the best such a pursuer could expect,\r\nunless @ was able to ambush the agent first, was that the agent wanted\r\ninformation enough to use a non-lethal form of attack or defense--until\r\n@ learned enough to satisfy @\'s curiosity, at least.\r\n\r\nBut Nevan was able to put the hazards of his mission in the back of his\r\nmind while he caught up on news from home. His first son, with the\r\nlady Dallas, was doing well in his warrior training, though both he and\r\nhis half-brother--Nevan\'s with the lady Morna, who looked more than a\r\nlittle smug, telling him--were giving Sean and Ellen fits trying to\r\nkeep up. Nevan couldn\'t help laughing; Sean and Ellen had fostered\r\nhim, too, and he remembered how good they were--and how frustrated Sean\r\ngot--with a child-warrior\'s hyperactivity. Other news was almost as\r\ninteresting to him, if less personal: the warrior Leslie had broken his\r\nleg in war games with the Combat Division Marines stationed at Shangri-La\r\nBase, and the clan had been asked to train more assault-lander\r\npilots.\r\n\r\nThe hour was all too short, but Nevan didn\'t let himself stretch his\r\nvisit beyond that point. He left the destroyer after a final promise\r\nto Morna that he would get off the meds as soon as he could, then made\r\nhis way through even thicker crowds to his rented car.\r\n\r\nHe spent the drive back to his ship going over his options. Things\r\ndidn\'t look quite as unpromising as they had earlier, even though it\r\nstill seemed that he would have to go back to Terra for a fresh start.\r\nThis time, he reminded himself, at least the start wouldn\'t be from\r\nzero; he had a name and a reputation to work with, and a few days to\r\ndig out some background would give him more data.\r\n\r\nHe had resigned himself to starting over by the time he got back to the\r\nspaceport. Not even the sight of half a decade secret police making no\r\nsecret of their surveillance of his ship disturbed him; he grinned at\r\nthem as he palmed open the outer hatch of his ship, giving Owajima\r\npoints for letting the locals handle the presumed assassin. He\'d just\r\nhave to take more precautions the next time around-- Oh, gods, the\r\ninner hatch was ajar, and he hadn\'t left it that way!\r\n\r\nHe barely had time to spot a stunner muzzle in the opening and start\r\nreaching for his needler before his ambusher fired and he slumped to\r\nthe airlock deck.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOwajima was a little surprised at the ease of his success, though there\r\nwas no way even one as skilled as DarLeras was reputed to be could have\r\ndetected any sign of his entry. He went to the outer lock and signaled\r\nhis success to the watchers, then carried the Sandeman to his cabin and\r\nsecured him to the bunk. Then he went into the \'fresher, found\r\nsynthiskin release in the medikit, and used it on the Sandeman\'s face,\r\nsmiling as it peeled free to reveal the tattoo so familiar from news\r\nshows. That was conclusive enough for Owajima; if, contrary to all\r\nother evidence, DarLeras had gone renegade, he would have removed the\r\ntattoo rather than simply covering it.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen Nevan woke, he was spread-eagled, tied to his bunk with a\r\ngrim-faced Oriental man holding a gun on him. That should have been\r\nfrightening, but Nevan couldn\'t help grinning; the feel of air on his\r\ncheek instead of synthiskin agreed with the tiny indications he could\r\nread from his captor. Owajima was disciplined, beautifully so, but not\r\nwell enough to hide everything. "I\'m honored to meet you, Colonel\r\nOwajima. Either I\'m losing my edge, or you\'re about to take over the\r\ntop-ever rating; I should\'ve seen some sign of your entry on the outer\r\nlock."\r\n\r\n"If you had, it would be I who was losing my edge. However, I will\r\ntake that as a compliment from one who still holds that ranking. Drop\r\nyour mind-shield."\r\n\r\n"What? Ohhh." Nevan did so, surprised for an instant though he knew\r\nhe shouldn\'t be. Since his chosen lady had discovered psionic Talent\r\nin humans nine years ago, it had been found that strong Talent was\r\ngenerally linked to strong abilities in one or more other fields. That\r\nwasn\'t a direct correlation, since there were multi-field geniuses with\r\nnone at all, and people with no conventional talents and powerful\r\nTalent--but well over ninety percent of the time, conventional and\r\npsionic abilities went together. Owajima wouldn\'t be the top-rated\r\nfield agent without exceptional ability--of both types.\r\n\r\n*Also, unlike most Sandemans,* came Owajima\'s amused thought, *I was\r\neager for Talent training. We both know it is impossible to lie,\r\nmind-to-mind, so: you are still thakur-na to Ranger Losinj and on a\r\nmission for her?*\r\n\r\n*I am, though the mission is partly for her, partly for myself,* Nevan\r\nconfirmed. *Stay linked while I report; she\'ll want to commend you\r\npersonally.* He sensed Owajima\'s agreement, and reached for his chosen\r\nlady. *Thakur?*\r\n\r\n*Here, thakur-na,* was the immediate response--then Nevan shared her\r\namusement as she \'felt\' his bonds. *You are satisfied with security,\r\nthen.*\r\n\r\n*It\'s tight,* Nevan confirmed. *And I\'m really impressed by Major\r\nOwajima\'s skill. He got past my ship defenses without leaving a trace.\r\nIt was a beautiful ambush.*\r\n\r\n*It is he I sense linked with you?*\r\n\r\n*Yes, Thakur.*\r\n\r\nNevan felt her attention center on the other. *I am pleased to make\r\nyour acquaintance, Major,* she sent. *I apologize for any difficulties\r\nyou experienced as a result of Nevan\'s pursuit; his purpose, at my\r\nrequest, was to test the security protecting field agents, including\r\nhis target\'s self-protection. As you heard, he is satisfied. So am I,\r\nand since you proved able to stop him, I will place a commendation in\r\nyour records.*\r\n\r\n*Thank you, sir.* Owajima smiled. *It is good to know our protections\r\nare adequate against one of the warrior Nevan\'s ability; any other,\r\nthen, could penetrate them only by chance.*\r\n\r\n*True.* Corina projected amusement. *Are you on assignment?*\r\n\r\n*No, sir. I have just finished a post-mission leave, and have been\r\nordered to Terra for a tour with OSI.*\r\n\r\n*You won\'t like it,* Nevan predicted. *Assignments think they\'re doing\r\nus a favor when they give us a planetside tour--a rest break, I heard\r\none call it--but those always bored me.*\r\n\r\n*If it gets too bad, Major,* the Ranger sent sympathetically, *see me,\r\nand I will have you given a field assignment. It is the least I can do\r\nafter setting Nevan on your trail.*\r\n\r\n*I will, sir, and thank you.*\r\n\r\n*Before I break contact, thakur-na, is there anything further you\r\nneed?*\r\n\r\n*Not really, Thakur--if you don\'t have anything else for me, I\'ll offer\r\nMajor Owajima a ride back to Terra.*\r\n\r\n*That will be fine. Enjoy the trip--I must endure this reception for\r\nDuke Shirley. Until your return, thakur-na.*\r\n\r\n*Until then, Thakur.* The contact ended, and Nevan grinned up at his\r\ncaptor. "Satisfied, Major?"\r\n\r\n"Perfectly, warrior. And I will accept your offer of a ride." Owajima\r\nholstered his gun, then undid Nevan\'s bonds. "I have wished to meet\r\nyou for some time; I regret only the circumstances."\r\n\r\nNevan sat up, rubbing his wrists. "Same here, maybe more so. I was\r\nafter you in particular because my bio-father left you his personal\r\nweapons when he died last month."\r\n\r\n"Oh? Knowing Sandemans, I assume there was a reason."\r\n\r\n"Uh-huh. He was the one you gave need-release to on Piper\'s World."\r\n\r\n"Ah." Owajima smiled. "I should not have broken cover to do so, but I\r\nhad seen one warrior die that way when we were prisoners of the Traiti,\r\nand I could not let another go through such agony unaided."\r\n\r\n"That\'s what he told me, not long after I finished my agent\'s training.\r\nDo you need to get anything before we go?"\r\n\r\n"No. Had you been the enemy I originally thought, by now you would\r\nhave been dead and your ship confiscated for my trip, to be turned in\r\nto the Navy at the Antarctica base. My things are already aboard."\r\n\r\nNevan chuckled. "Good thinking. Unnecessary, since this baby already\r\nbelongs to the Navy, but I like the plan." He led the way to his\r\nship\'s control room, got clearance for takeoff, and set course for\r\nTerra. Then he escorted his guest to the ship\'s small lounge. "I\'ve\r\nfollowed your career for a long time, Major," he said, getting coffee\r\nfor each of them. "It\'s been brilliant--at times incredible. Like\r\ngetting into this ship without leaving traces."\r\n\r\nOwajima smiled. "I left traces, warrior. Not many, and not\r\nsignificant to one without the training we share, but enough that you\r\nwould have observed them. My particular Talent specialty, however, is\r\nsingularly appropriate for one in this field." His smile grew. "I\r\ncan, when I desire, make myself and my handiwork unnoticeable. It\r\ntakes a particularly strong mind-shield to block that ability even\r\npartially; you saw nothing because I wished you not to."\r\n\r\nNevan nodded, returning the smile. "That makes me feel better. I got\r\nblown when I visited the base--didn\'t know about the open house, and\r\nran into some clan-mates. I was afraid I\'d let that distract me--but\r\nif you were using Talent, that wasn\'t my problem. Mind showing me how\r\nit works?"\r\n\r\n"Not at all, though since you are already aware of me, the effect will\r\nnot be complete."\r\n\r\nIf that was incomplete, Nevan thought seconds later, Kiyoshi Owajima\r\nmust be capable of practically turning invisible. He knew the other\r\nwas there, could see him perfectly well--but it was almost impossible\r\nto pay any attention to him. "Nice! I could\'ve used that quite a few\r\ntimes."\r\n\r\nOwajima became noticeable again. "It is less effective against a\r\nnumber of people, particularly when--as you did--they know I am\r\npresent. But against few, or those who have not already seen me when I\r\nbegin using it, you are quite correct; it is most effective."\r\n\r\n"Too bad you can\'t teach it to all the agents." But that, Nevan knew,\r\nwasn\'t possible; while mind-screen, or the stronger mind-shield, and\r\ntelepathy were common to everyone with Talent, the specialized aspects\r\nvaried widely from person to person. "Would you like to see your\r\ninheritance?"\r\n\r\n"Very much. The needler and blades in the clothing storage?"\r\n\r\nNevan chuckled. "That\'s them. Do you want to get them, or shall I?"\r\n\r\n"There is no further need to invade your privacy, warrior."\r\n\r\n"Nevan is fine--I\'ll go get them, then." He did so, grinning to\r\nhimself. He\'d been favorably impressed by the reports of Owajima\'s\r\naccomplishments; he was even more favorably impressed by the man\r\nhimself. Not too many standard humans could take out a Sandeman\r\nwarrior, even using Talent!\r\n\r\nReturning to the lounge, he gave Owajima the box holding the weapons.\r\n"Here you are, Major. Use them in good health."\r\n\r\n"I shall, whenever my cover does not prohibit the use of Sandeman\r\nweapons. And call me Kiyoshi, please." Owajima smiled. "I think this\r\nwill be an enjoyable trip, and that by its end we will be friends."\r\n\r\n"I think so, too. Do you have a family?"\r\n\r\n"I am married, but we do not yet have children. You?"\r\n\r\n"Two sons, both warriors--one with the lady Dallas, one with the lady\r\nMorna. My foster-parents are fostering both of them, as well. I\'ve\r\ngot a holo, if you\'d like to see."\r\n\r\n"Very much." Owajima accepted the small folder, settling in for an\r\nenjoyable discussion.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEND\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMBUSH: A TERRAN EMPIRE VIGNETTE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Pleasant Journey'

'Thieme, Richard'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Pleasant Journey\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Pleasant Journey\r\n\r\nAuthor: Richard Thieme\r\n\r\nIllustrator: George Schelling\r\n\r\nRelease date: August 25, 2009 [eBook #29790]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLEASANT JOURNEY ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\n\r\nPLEASANT JOURNEY\r\n\r\n It\'s nice to go on a pleasant journey.\r\n There is, however, a very difficult question concerning\r\n the other half of the ticket ...\r\n\r\nBY RICHARD F. THIEME\r\n\r\nIllustrated by George Schelling\r\n\r\n\r\n"What do you call it?" the buyer asked Jenkins.\r\n\r\n"I named it \'Journey Home\' but you can think up a better name for it if\r\nyou want. I\'ll guarantee that it sells, though. There\'s nothing like it\r\non any midway."\r\n\r\n"I\'d like to try it out first, of course," Allenby said. "Star-Time uses\r\nonly the very best, you know."\r\n\r\n"Yes, I know," Jenkins said. He had heard the line before, from almost\r\nevery carnival buyer to whom he had sold. He did not do much business\r\nwith the carnivals; there weren\'t enough to keep him busy with large or\r\nworthwhile rides and features. The amusement parks of the big cities\r\nwere usually the best markets.\r\n\r\nAllenby warily eyed the entrance, a room fashioned from a side-show\r\nbooth. A rough red curtain concealed the inside. Over the doorway, in\r\ncrude dark blue paint, was lettered, "Journey Home." Behind the doorway\r\nwas a large barnlike structure, newly painted white, where Jenkins did\r\nhis planning, his building, and his finishing. When he sold a new ride\r\nit was either transported from inside the building through the large,\r\npull-away doors in back or taken apart piece by piece and shipped to the\r\npark or carny that bought it.\r\n\r\n"Six thousand\'s a lot of money," the buyer said.\r\n\r\n"Just try it," Jenkins told him.\r\n\r\nThe buyer shrugged. "O.K.," he said. "Let\'s go in." They walked through\r\nthe red curtain. Inside the booth-entrance was a soft-cushioned\r\neasy-chair, also red, secured firmly in place. It was a piece of salvage\r\nfrom a two-engine commercial airplane. A helmet looking like a Flash\r\nGordon accessory-hair drier combination was set over it. Jenkins flipped\r\na switch and the room became bright with light. "I thought you said this\r\nwasn\'t a thrill ride," Allenby said, looking at the helmetlike structure\r\nominously hanging over the chair.\r\n\r\n"It isn\'t," Jenkins said, smiling. "Sit down." He strapped the buyer\r\ninto place in the chair.\r\n\r\n"Hey, wait a minute," Allenby protested. "Why the straps?"\r\n\r\n"Leave everything to me and don\'t worry," Jenkins said, fitting the\r\nheadgear into place over the buyer\'s head. The back of it fitted easily\r\nover the entire rear of the skull, down to his neck. The front came just\r\nbelow the eyes. After turning the light off, Jenkins pulled the curtain\r\nclosed. It was completely black inside.\r\n\r\n"Have a nice trip," Jenkins said, pulling a switch on the wall and\r\npushing a button on the back of the chair at the same time.\r\n\r\nCurrents shifted and repatterned themselves inside the helmet and were\r\nfed into Allenby at the base of his skull, at the medulla. The currents\r\nof alternating ions mixed with the currents of his varied and random\r\nbrain waves, and the impulses of one became the impulses of the other.\r\nAllenby jerked once with the initial shock and was then still, his mind\r\nand body fused with the pulsating currents of the chair.\r\n\r\nSuddenly, Roger Allenby was almost blinded by bright, naked light.\r\nAllenby\'s first impression was one of disappointment at the failure of\r\nthe device. Jenkins was reliable, usually, and hadn\'t come up with a\r\nfluke yet.\r\n\r\nAllenby got out of the chair and called for Jenkins, holding on to the\r\narm of the chair to keep his bearings. "Hey! Where are you? Jenkins!" He\r\ntried to look around him but the bright, intense light revealed nothing.\r\nHe swore to himself, extending his arms in front of him for something to\r\ngrasp. As he groped for a solid, the light became more subdued and\r\nshifted from white into a light, pleasant blue.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nShapes and forms rearranged themselves in front of him and gradually\r\nbecame distinguishable. He was in a city, or on top of a city. A\r\npanoramic view was before him and he saw the creations of human beings,\r\nobviously, but a culture far removed from his. A slight path of white\r\nbegan at his feet and expanded as it fell slightly, ramplike, over and\r\ninto the city. The buildings were whiter than the gate of false dreams\r\nthat Penelope sung of and the streets and avenues were blue, not gray.\r\nThe people wore white and milled about in the streets below him. They\r\nshouted as one; their voices were not cries but songs and they sang his\r\nname.\r\n\r\nHe started walking on the white strip. It was flexible and supported his\r\nweight easily. Then he was running, finding his breath coming in sharp\r\ngasps and he was among the crowds. They smiled at him as he passed by\r\nand held out their hands to him. Their faces shone with a brilliance of\r\nawareness and he knew that they loved him. Troubled, frightened, he kept\r\nrunning, blindly, and, abruptly, there were no people, no buildings.\r\n\r\nHe was walking now, at the left side of a modern super-highway, against\r\nthe traffic. Autos sped by him, too quickly for him to determine the\r\nyear of model. Across the divider the traffic was heavier, autos\r\nspeeding crazily ahead in the direction he was walking; none stopped. He\r\nhalted for a moment and looked around him. There was nothing on the\r\nsides of the road: no people, no fields, no farms, no cities, no\r\nblackness. There was nothing. But far ahead there was green etched\r\naround the horizon as the road dipped and the cars sped over it. He\r\nwalked more quickly, catching his breath, and came closer and closer to\r\nthe green.\r\n\r\nAllenby stopped momentarily and turned around, looking at the highway\r\nthat was behind him. It was gone. Only bleak, black and gray hills of\r\nrock and rubble were there, no cars, no life. He shuddered and continued\r\non toward the end of the highway. The green blended in with the blue of\r\nthe sky now. Closer he came, until just over the next rise in the road\r\nthe green was bright. Not knowing or caring why, he was filled with\r\nexpectation and he ran again and was in the meadow.\r\n\r\nAll around him were the greens of the grasses and leaves and the yellows\r\nand blues of the field flowers. It was warm, a spring day, with none of\r\nthe discomfort of summer heat. Jubilant, Roger spun around in circles,\r\ninhaling the fragrance of the field, listening to the hum of insect life\r\nstirring back to awareness after a season of inactivity. Then he was\r\nrunning and tumbling, barefoot, his shirt open, feeling the soft grass\r\ngive way underfoot and the soil was good and rich beneath him.\r\n\r\nHe saw a stream ahead, with clear water melodiously flowing by him. He\r\nwent to it and drank, the cold, good water quenching all his thirst,\r\nclearing all the stickiness of his throat and mind. He dashed the water\r\non his face and was happy and felt the coolness of it as the breeze\r\npicked up and swept his hair over his forehead. With a shake of his head\r\nhe tossed it back in place and ran again, feeling the air rush into his\r\nlungs with coolness and vibrance unknown since adolescence. No nicotine\r\nspasms choked him and the air was refreshing.\r\n\r\nThen up the hill he sped, pushing hard, as the marigolds and dandelions\r\nparted before him. At the top he stopped and looked and smiled\r\necstatically as he saw the green rolling land and the stream, curving\r\naround from behind the house, his house, the oaks forming a secret lair\r\nbehind it, and he felt the youth of the world in his lungs and under his\r\nfeet. He heard the voice calling from that house, his house, calling him\r\nto Saturday lunch.\r\n\r\n"I\'m coming!" he cried happily and was tumbling down the hill, rolling\r\nover and over, the hill and ground and sky blending blues and greens and\r\nnothing had perspective. The world was spinning and everything was black\r\nagain. He shook his head to clear the dizziness.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Well?" Jenkins said. "How was it?"\r\n\r\nAllenby looked up at him as Jenkins swung the helmet back and unhooked\r\nthe seatbelt. He squinted as Jenkins flipped the light switch and the\r\nbrightness hit him.\r\n\r\nHis surroundings became distinguishable again very slowly and he knew he\r\nwas back in the room. "Where was I?" he asked.\r\n\r\nJenkins shrugged. "I don\'t know. It was all yours. You went wherever you\r\nwanted to go, wherever home is." Jenkins smiled down at him. "Did you\r\nvisit more than one place?" he asked. The buyer nodded. "I thought so.\r\nIt seems that a person tries a few before finally deciding where to go."\r\n\r\nThe buyer stood up and stretched. "Could I please see the barn?" he\r\nasked, meaning the huge workshop where Jenkins did the construction\r\nwork.\r\n\r\n"Sure," Jenkins said and opened the door opposite the red curtain into\r\nthe workshop. It was empty.\r\n\r\n"You mean it was all up here? I didn\'t move at all?" He tapped his\r\ncranium with his index finger.\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," Jenkins said anxiously. "Do you want it or not?"\r\n\r\nAllenby stood looking into the empty room. "Yes ... yes, of course," he\r\nsaid. "How long did the whole thing last?"\r\n\r\n"About ten seconds," Jenkins said, looking at his watch. "It seems much\r\nlonger to the traveler. I\'m not sure, but I think the imagined time\r\nvaries with each person. It\'s always around ten seconds of actual time,\r\nthough, so you can make a lot of money on it, even if you only have one\r\nmachine."\r\n\r\n"Money?" Allenby said. "Money, yes, of course." He took a checkbook from\r\nhis inside pocket and hurriedly wrote a check for six thousand dollars.\r\n"When can we have it delivered?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"You want it shipped the usual way?"\r\n\r\n"No," Allenby said, staring at the red-cushioned chair. "Send it air\r\nfreight. Then bill us for the expense."\r\n\r\n"Whatever you say," Jenkins said, smiling, taking the check. "You\'ll\r\nhave it by the first of the week, probably. I\'ll put a complete parts\r\nand assembly manual inside the crate."\r\n\r\n"Good, good. But maybe I should test it again, you know. Star-Time can\'t\r\nreally afford to make a mistake as expensive as this."\r\n\r\n"No," Jenkins said quickly. Then, "I\'ll guarantee it, of course. If it\r\ndoesn\'t work out, I\'ll give you a full refund. But don\'t try it again,\r\ntoday. Don\'t let anyone have it more than once in one day. Stamp them on\r\nthe hand or something when they take the trip."\r\n\r\n"Why?"\r\n\r\nJenkins looked troubled. "I\'m not sure, but people might not want to\r\ncome back. Too many times in a row and they might be able to stay\r\nthere ... in their minds of course."\r\n\r\n"Of course, of course. Well, it\'s been a pleasure doing business with\r\nyou, Mr. Jenkins. I hope to see you again soon." They walked back to\r\nAllenby\'s not-very-late model car and shook hands. Allenby drove away.\r\n\r\nOn the way back to the hotel, and as he lay for a long time in the\r\nbathtub, letting the warmness drift away from the water, the thought ran\r\nover and over in his mind. They might be able to stay there, Allenby\r\nsaid to himself. They might be able to stay there. He smiled warmly at a\r\ncrack in the plaster as he thought of the first of the week and the\r\nfragrant meadow.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\'s Note:\r\n\r\n This etext was produced from _Analog Science Fact & Fiction_\r\n November 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling\r\n and typographical errors have been corrected without note.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLEASANT JOURNEY ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Has Anyone Here Seen Kelly?'

'Walton, Bryce'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Has Anyone Here Seen Kelly?\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Has Anyone Here Seen Kelly?\r\n\r\nAuthor: Bryce Walton\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Paul Orban\r\n\r\nRelease date: September 25, 2009 [eBook #30086]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAS ANYONE HERE SEEN KELLY? ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\n\r\n _The body tanks had to be replenished and the ship had to\r\n be serviced--and the crew was having a Lotus dream in its\r\n bed of protoplasm. But Kelly knew how to arouse them...._\r\n\r\n\r\n _Has Anybody\r\n Here Seen\r\n Kelly?_\r\n\r\n By Kenneth O\'Hara\r\n\r\n Illustrated by Paul Orban\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Crew pulsed with contentment, and its communal singing brought a\r\npleasant kind of glow that throbbed gently in the control room.\r\n\r\n"\'Has anybody here seen Kelly ... K-E-double-L-Y?\'"\r\n\r\n"Shut up and dig my thought!" Kelly\'s stubborn will insisted. "I\'m going\r\non out for a while!"\r\n\r\nThe delicate loom of the Crew\'s light pattern increased its frequency a\r\nlittle and the song stopped. "Better not," the Crew said.\r\n\r\n"But why not?"\r\n\r\n"No need."\r\n\r\n"We could be running into something bad," Kelly thought.\r\n\r\n"No danger now, Kelly. Checking the ship is just a waste of time."\r\n\r\n"How can you waste what you have so damn much of?" Kelly thought.\r\n\r\n"Do not leave us again, Kelly. We love you and you are the most\r\ninteresting part of the Crew when you\'re with it."\r\n\r\n"The ship ought to be checked. Our bodies ought to be looked at."\r\n\r\n"We know there is no danger any more, Kelly. Do not go. There are so\r\nmany interesting experiences we have not even begun to share yet. We are\r\nonly half way through your life and we have not even started to\r\nexperience your impressions of your colorful and complex Earth culture.\r\nAnd we have not even started on the adult lives of Lakrit or Lljub. Come\r\nback with your Crew, Kelly."\r\n\r\n"But no one\'s checked the ship for over a year!"\r\n\r\n"Please do not worry about the ship, Kelly. In fifty years nothing has\r\ngone wrong. We can trust the ship thoroughly now, it will take care of\r\nus."\r\n\r\n"_It_ will take care of _us_! That\'s a helluva way to look at it!"\r\n\r\n"There can be no danger now, Kelly. In fifty years we have encountered\r\nevery conceivable danger, every imaginable kind of world or possible\r\nmenace."\r\n\r\n"Have we?" Kelly thought. "Every danger from outside maybe, and I\'m not\r\neven sure of that. But how about danger from inside?"\r\n\r\n"Inside?"\r\n\r\n"Us. How about apathy for instance? Apathy\'s a real danger. You talk\r\nabout this space-can like it was a big metal mother! Listen, I\'m\r\nsupposed to see that this tub holds together. At least until we get back\r\nsomewhere near enough to the Solar system so we\'ll feel we\'ve been\r\nsomewhere else!"\r\n\r\n"But, Kelly--"\r\n\r\n"I\'m getting out for a while, I tell you!"\r\n\r\n"All right," the Crew sighed. The light loom faded a bit, down to a\r\nself-indulgent glow. "Hurry back to us, Kelly."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll give some thought to it."\r\n\r\nSo Kelly concentrated on the increasingly painful and difficult task of\r\ntearing his consciousness free of the big glob of protoplasm in the\r\ntank, and getting it back into his body that hibernated in the bunkroom.\r\n\r\nAs usual the switch was too painful. It stretched and stretched and\r\nfinally snapped in an all too familiar explosion of shocking light.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHis bones creaked. His skin rustled as he sat up and looked around.\r\nThere was the old feeling that there was dust over everything when there\r\nwas no dust. There was all that emptiness sweeping away into the endless\r\nsilence and he thought again, as he always did, how comforting and cozy\r\nit was being a part of the Crew.\r\n\r\nBut someone had to check the ship. It was only machinery after all, and\r\nmachinery could wear out, sooner or later. And he wasn\'t at all sure, as\r\nhe kept insisting, that they had encountered all the possible dangers.\r\n\r\nIt might seem that in fifty years you could run into everything. But\r\nfifty years was no time at all out here where time had no real meaning\r\nany more.\r\n\r\nHis body squeaked as he took a few tentative steps about the bunkroom.\r\nOne did not actually forget how to walk. It was just awkward as the\r\ndevil. And the blood, the entire autonomic system, tended to slow down.\r\nIt seemed reluctant to step up general metabolism.\r\n\r\nApathy. Sure it was a danger. This time, Kelly decided, I\'ll do\r\nsomething about it. He was the engineer and he had signed on the great\r\nodyssey to keep the ship going. But the Crew was part of the ship. Was\r\nnot there an obligation even greater to keep the Crew going?\r\n\r\nThe four others lived but almost imperceptibly in some very low state of\r\nslowed metabolism there in the bunkroom and Kelly looked at them. The\r\nfaithful and the wonderful ones. The ones with whom he had shared so\r\nmany dangers and awful silences that the five of them had been able to\r\nevolve the idea of the protoplasm in the tank and merge their\r\nconsciousness in it.\r\n\r\nKew, the Venusian, in her bowl of self-renewing nitrate. Lakrit from a\r\nJovian satellite, a fluorine fellow of distinction inside a sphere of\r\ngaseous sulphur. A crystalline character with a sense of humor named\r\nLljub, whose form gave off a paled glint as it nourished itself on\r\nsilicates. And a highly intelligent but humble six-foot-long sponge\r\nlabeled Urdaz stuck in a foundation of chemical sediment at the bottom\r\nof a tank of reprocessing salt water.\r\n\r\nEach with their own special kind of appendages and sensitivities, each\r\nable to move his special closed-system about through the ship by means\r\nof clever types of mobility.\r\n\r\nBut basically, in outward form, they were too alien to have much in\r\ncommon. Only as intelligences, as life forces, could they share a common\r\nbed. And it had evolved to that in fifty years. A bed of protoplasm in a\r\nshock-absorbent tank.\r\n\r\nKelly looked at them warmly and thought about how it had worked out. The\r\nstrange thing was that it did have a lot of good things to recommend it.\r\nOr had had them. It had solved the problem of intimate communication and\r\ndriven back the tides of loneliness. It had lessened the dangers of\r\nmental and physical illnesses in the material bodies and assured a\r\nprolongation of the life of each body, which was important in itself,\r\nfor this trip had proven to be a lot longer than even the most\r\npessimistic had anticipated.\r\n\r\nThe Crew, pulsing in its tank, Kelly thought oddly, is a new life form.\r\nOne that had evolved to meet the exigencies of deep space which had\r\nproven to be alien to any adaptability common to any world that rotated\r\nthrough it.\r\n\r\nBut maybe they were too damn happy, Kelly thought. Too contented. If\r\nthey ran into a real emergency now, the ship would be finished. The Crew\r\nin the tank was, itself, incapable of action of any overt kind. It could\r\nnot manipulate anything. It could only be happy.\r\n\r\nAnd the bodies here in the bunkroom could not rally fast enough to meet\r\na sudden crisis.\r\n\r\nAnd they had agreed that the first law was survival.\r\n\r\nBut to survive this way might well mean destruction in another.\r\n\r\nSo Kelly walked and thought about it, and weighed the precarious\r\nbalance.\r\n\r\nHe slipped through the silent ship and to the control room. He peered\r\ninto the viewscope. Some galaxy or other spun its giant pinwheel outward\r\ntoward some destiny of its own. The high noon of the endlessness had\r\nbeen unfamiliar for years. He checked the ship\'s instruments. The Crew\r\nin the big tank simmered and throbbed in its introspective bliss,\r\nutterly oblivious to Kelly now.\r\n\r\nKelly saw the red dwarf a few hundred million kilos away. Three planets\r\nground their familiar path around it. The second in distance had a\r\nbreathable oxygen, according to the scopes, but little else to recommend\r\nit.\r\n\r\nKelly straightened up. He had no idea when the plan had really started\r\nforming, but now it was formed. When Kelly made up his mind to a thing,\r\nthere was no other course but to conclude it. He knew what he had to do.\r\n\r\nSomehow, even as part of the Crew, some part of Kelly had been able to\r\nkeep that forming plan a secret. Which was a lucky miracle, for if the\r\nCrew had known his intentions it would certainly not have let him out\r\nthis time.\r\n\r\nEven if you wanted out, Kelly reasoned, the Crew would keep you in. And\r\nmaybe after long enough you did not care to get out. But once out, he\r\nwondered, could it keep you out if it decided to blackball a man for one\r\nreason or another?\r\n\r\nLike wrecking the ship?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn the chrome strip above the control panel, Kelly saw his face grinning\r\nstrangely back at him, a bearded, hollowed, paled face with an\r\nunfamiliar glitter in the eyes. Every time he had left the Crew to enter\r\nand reactivate his own body, that body had seemed a little less\r\nfamiliar. This time it seemed to be almost entirely someone else.\r\n\r\nHe stared at the face in the chrome, then whispered the hell with that\r\nand he flipped the controls over to manual. He sat down. Behind him, the\r\nCrew whispered in its tank, protoplasm developed in the labs and\r\nquivering now with some unified sensation that was purely subjective and\r\nblissfully unconcerned with what happened outside itself.\r\n\r\n"It\'s sick," Kelly concluded, with an emphatic clamp of his jaws. "It\'s\r\nnot right!"\r\n\r\nTrue, sharing the intimate sensations of alien life forms like Kew, the\r\nfemale Venusian, had been exciting. Especially the sex experiences\r\nwhich, in a flower of Kew\'s type, was certainly something. There were\r\ninteresting things to being a part of the Crew all right. But the main\r\npurpose, survival, had been forgotten. Now being the Crew was an end in\r\nitself. Kelly could imagine the Crew business going on and on until\r\nfinally even the material bodies in the bunkroom would be forgotten\r\nentirely and allowed to rot away to dust about which the Crew would no\r\nlonger care.\r\n\r\nAnd that was very bad. It should not have worked out this way. But it\r\nwas not too late to do something, shake them out of the Lotus dream.\r\n\r\nHe checked the scopes again. Now the second planet revealed plenty of\r\nbreathable atmosphere settled in the lower valleys. He headed straight\r\nfor it.\r\n\r\nThe Crew was soon going to get one devil of a jolt!\r\n\r\nHe put the ship into a close orbit around the planet. It seemed nothing\r\nbut a fearsome forest of oxydized spikes rising in corrosive silence,\r\nwith here and there a lean slash of valley. There was no indication of\r\nlife, no vegetation visible or revealed by the scopes. One of the\r\nvalleys had a thin mouth of water stretching down the length of its\r\nface. Kelly set the speed and the controls and ran for the bunkroom and\r\nthe shock-absorbent cushions. He strapped himself in and waited.\r\n\r\nIt was done. As long as the thing had gone so far, Kelly decided, the\r\ntruth should never be revealed because that would lessen the therapeutic\r\nvalue of his action. He would wreck the ship. Not too badly. Not so\r\nbadly that all of the bodies, distinct, separate individual bodies\r\nagain, couldn\'t put the ship back together, as in the old days. And that\r\nwould keep them in their bodies gladly for a while where they belonged!\r\nWhere the good Lord had intended for them to stay.\r\n\r\nThey would not be rocked away to apathy in a phony metal mother womb,\r\nthinking the ship was going to take care of _them_!\r\n\r\nThe more Kelly thought about it, the better he felt. He stretched inside\r\nthe straps. He felt his slightly atrophied muscles luxuriate over the\r\ntissues and bones of his big frame.\r\n\r\nAny body, no matter what its shape, should be proud of itself. That was\r\nKelly\'s belief, and this thing that had happened seemed somewhat\r\nblasphemous. Without bodies and their complex sensory recording\r\napparatus, the rich consciousness enjoyed by the Crew could not exist,\r\nwould never have been created at all. The Crew was living off the\r\nlargesse of experience built up by their bodies. The Crew was just\r\nnarcotized enough that it did not realize that the body banks had to be\r\nreplenished.\r\n\r\nMetal shrieked.\r\n\r\nKelly yelled feebly. He fought, he grappled with the threatening\r\nblackout like a man fighting an invisible opponent on an endless flight\r\nof stairs.\r\n\r\nThe grinding rolling terror of the sound, the ripping, twisting, tearing\r\nscream of it cried on and on. Kelly knew one thing then.\r\n\r\nHe had not figured it right. His calculations were off. _The ship had\r\nhit too damn hard._\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nLater, when he managed to get the straps off and tried to move, he fell\r\npainfully onto the tilted deck. One of his eyes felt sticky. He rubbed\r\nat it and his hand was smeared with blood.\r\n\r\nHe shuffled around in a stumbling circle. Minor damages could have been\r\nrepaired. But this--the ship was peeled open in glaring strips like a\r\nbreakfast cannister. A cold wind moaned through the ship that was now\r\nnothing but a metal sieve. A hazy light filtered down and ran off the\r\nmetal like cold flour rust.\r\n\r\nKelly fell to his knees. "Kew," he whispered. "Lljub, Urdaz--Lakrit...."\r\n\r\nThe Venusian flower lady was sliced down the middle like a cabbage, and\r\nthe nitrate bowl was shattered and Kew was dead in a pool of fading\r\ngreen blood.\r\n\r\nSmashed into the bulkhead was Lakrit\'s sulphuric bathtub, and his\r\natmosphere had already filtered away with the wind to wherever it was\r\ngoing. Lljub\'s pale glow was out for good, and his crystalline heart was\r\nas opaque as a dead eye. Only a few pieces of Urdaz\'s tank were visible,\r\nand Urdaz himself had already turned to a powdery food that the wind ate\r\nslowly in long trailing streamers.\r\n\r\n"What--what in the name of God have I done?" Kelly whispered.\r\n\r\nAll dead--\r\n\r\nNo! He slammed at the bulkhead until the warped metal gave and he ran to\r\nthe control room. The Crew--the Crew--\r\n\r\nHe stared at the tank.\r\n\r\nThrough a jagged opening in the ship\'s walls, the wind whined and\r\nplucked at Kelly\'s red hair. The wind was colder now. He kept on looking\r\nat the tank. He reached out and touched the big transparent curve of it\r\nand then jerked his hand back with a whimper in his breath.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing in the tank, nothing but a blob of slowly drying\r\nslime. He pressed his nose to the tank. "Crew--" he whispered.\r\n\r\nThere was no life in the slime. When he pounded on the tank, the stuff\r\ncollapsed in upon itself in withering flatness.\r\n\r\nKelly yelled. The cold wind froze at his teeth. It sucked at his breath\r\nand dried at the interior of his mouth. He ran and climbed. The jagged\r\nperiphery of the opening sliced at his flesh. But he did not feel it,\r\nand he fell twenty feet, without feeling that either, down the side of\r\nthe ship. He started crawling over the hard naked belly of the rock.\r\n\r\nHe got to his feet. He ran stumbling down an incline of shale worn round\r\nand shiny by the wind that had blown here just as it blew now, and would\r\nblow for God alone possibly knew how long. He fell and rolled to the\r\nedge of the water.\r\n\r\nHe looked into it. He felt of it. He jerked his hand away. The stuff was\r\nicy. But it was worse than icy. It was dead. It was dead water. It was\r\nwithout any bottom, and without any life in it anywhere. You could tell\r\nby looking into it. The wind moved over the top of it as though the\r\nwater were glass, and the water was the color of a slightly transparent\r\nnaked blue steel.\r\n\r\nThere was no life here. Maybe there had been once, who knew when, who\r\ncould guess how long ago. But there was none now and even the water had\r\nforgotten it.\r\n\r\nKelly cried out as he stood up. "What have I done?" He raised his arms\r\nat the hazy red sun lying over the spires of towering stone and metal\r\nlike a bloated balloon scraping precariously over rusty spikes. "God,\r\nwhat have I done?"\r\n\r\nThe cry echoed tinnily on the rocks and fled on the wind.\r\n\r\nKelly ran for a long way, falling and stumbling and getting up again.\r\nKelly had always had one primary drive, and that was to keep going, no\r\nmatter what. So now he tried to keep going.\r\n\r\nBut there was no life on this planet. He had known that before. Some\r\nstrange kinds of intelligence could tolerate some unpleasant worlds. But\r\nnothing would live here.\r\n\r\nNothing _could_ live here.\r\n\r\n"That\'s your fate," Kelly thought. He sat down and stared at the walls\r\nof rock and metal all around. "Your fate, Kelly. Your punishment, your\r\nwell deserved hell."\r\n\r\nThat was what it was. Retribution. And knowing that, he tried not to\r\ncare. He tried to be glad and face what he deserved.\r\n\r\nIf that were not the answer, then why had only Kelly been spared to face\r\nemptiness and silence and no life, all alone?\r\n\r\nThe irony of it was that he would go on as long as possible keeping\r\nhimself alive in his own hell. There was food aplenty in the ship,\r\nenough to last as long as hell cared to have him.\r\n\r\nHe turned and started walking back toward the ship that seemed some five\r\nmiles away. At that instant, the ship disappeared in an abrupt explosion\r\nthat twisted the rocks, and a mushroom cloud flowered gently above the\r\nlake as Kelly fell trembling on his belly and hugged the ground and\r\npushed his face into the shale, while the wind tore and screamed around\r\nhim and particles of flint ripped his clothes and slashed at his flesh.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe did not bother walking much farther toward where the ship had been.\r\nThere was only a crater there now which would offer him nothing in the\r\nway of sustaining his very personal and thoroughly private hell.\r\n\r\nHe walked. The effort became more difficult and finally he was on his\r\nhands and knees, crawling. The wind sucked at his ripped clothes, and\r\nfelt like cold sharp steel in his raw wounds. But slowly and\r\ndeliberately he continued to crawl.\r\n\r\nKelly had always had the idea that a man should keep going and so now he\r\nkept on going. Even if there was no place to go, and you could not\r\nremember particularly where you had been, you kept on moving and\r\nfighting and slugging along until you could no longer move.\r\n\r\nHe lay there looking up at the hazy rust of the sky with the naked\r\nspires pointing up into it for no reason at all, because there was\r\nnothing up there.\r\n\r\nHe had been there and he knew. Nothing up there but space, black and\r\nwithout a beginning or end. He had not even checked the records of the\r\nship so that now, lying here, he did not even know how far away from\r\nEarth he was. At the speed they had traveled, a ship went a long way in\r\nfifty years. But the ship, the records, everything was lost.\r\n\r\nAnd no one would ever know now how far they had come.\r\n\r\nOr gone. What was the difference, anyway?\r\n\r\nBut Kelly had no difficulty in remembering _why_ they had come.\r\n\r\nThey had come into space because that was how it was with those who\r\nfought their way up to being the dominate life form of whatever world\r\nthey had lived on and grown and died on. If you were the kind who went\r\ninto space, you went because space was there.\r\n\r\nWho needed a better reason than that?\r\n\r\n"Kew," he whispered. "Lakrit, Lljub, Urdaz, listen now--I thought I was\r\ndoing the right thing--maybe my idea was right--but I just made a\r\nmistake in the calculations. I just made a helluva mistake--"\r\n\r\nThe wind sighed over the naked rock and the rusted metal and the rock\r\nand the dead blue water.\r\n\r\nHe turned and pushed his head against the rock, and his body curled up\r\nagainst the bitter wind. "You\'ve got to forgive me," he said.\r\n\r\n"\'_Has anybody here seen Kelly? K-E-double-L-Y?_\'"\r\n\r\nHe shivered and kept his eyes closed. It was part of the wind. He did\r\nnot want to go out that way, hearing crazy voices in the wind.\r\n\r\n"\'Has anybody here seen Kelly--?\'"\r\n\r\nHe raised his head and blinked and the wind drove tears down his cheeks.\r\n\r\n"Am I just hearing something that\'s going crazy inside my head?" He\r\npeered around. There was nothing, nothing anywhere of course, nothing\r\nwhere nothing had ever been, and nothing else but nothing could ever be.\r\n\r\n"You\'re wrong, Kelly. Your Crew\'s here."\r\n\r\nKelly raised himself painfully to an elbow. "Where--_where_?"\r\n\r\n"Right here, Kelly. We had a difficult time locating you. Sure, we\r\nforgive you. You were trying to do what was right. We know that."\r\n\r\n"There\'s nothing--nothing--" Kelly said.\r\n\r\n"You\'re wrong. The Crew\'s here and we\'re waiting."\r\n\r\nHe stared at the rock. He put his face against it and pushed his hands\r\nto it. There was a kind of dull glow in it, a faint hint of warmth in\r\nthe rock.\r\n\r\n"How can this be?" Kelly said.\r\n\r\n"This is the life here, Kelly. Perhaps there is life everywhere in the\r\nmost impossible seeming places. And where life is, Kelly, we can live\r\nwith it and be welcomed by it. Here, this rock is life, and it has taken\r\nus in. It has been here a long time. And it will be here for a much\r\nlonger time."\r\n\r\n"Rock," Kelly said.\r\n\r\n"But hurry and come back."\r\n\r\n"But no one will ever know. How long--how long can we wait?"\r\n\r\n"Who can answer that, Kelly? But maybe they will find the Crew someday."\r\n\r\nKelly looked up once at the completely unfamiliar distances growing\r\ndarker. Sometime, he thought, they\'ll come from wherever Earth is and\r\nfind the Crew of the ship, find a rock here waiting the ages out.\r\n\r\n"Hurry, Kelly!"\r\n\r\nHis head dropped against the rock. His hands slid down it, and a smile\r\nmoved over his lips and froze there as the wind whispered over it.\r\n\r\n\r\n \xc2\xb7\xc2\xb7\xc2\xb7 THE END\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\'s Note:\r\n\r\n This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ July\r\n 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\r\n copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and\r\n typographical errors have been corrected without note.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\'s Has Anyone Here Seen Kelly?, by Bryce Walton\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAS ANYONE HERE SEEN KELLY? ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Näkymätön mies'

'Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n mies\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n mies\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: H. G. Wells\r\n\r\nTranslator: Aino Tuomikoski\r\n\r\nRelease date: August 20, 2014 [eBook #46638]\r\n\r\nLanguage: Finnish\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK N\xc3\x84KYM\xc3\x84T\xc3\x96N MIES ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Juha Kiuru\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nN\xc3\x84KYM\xc3\x84T\xc3\x96N MIES\r\n\r\nKirj.\r\n\r\nH. G. Wells\r\n\r\n\r\nSuomentanut englanninkielest\xc3\xa4 (The Invisible Man) Aino Tuomikoski.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nArvi A. Karisto Oy, H\xc3\xa4meenlinna, 1922.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSIS\xc3\x84LLYS:\r\n\r\n 1. Vieraan miehen saapuminen.\r\n II. Teddy Henfreyn ensi vaikutelmat.\r\n III. Tuhat yksi pulloa.\r\n IV. Cuss haastattelee vierasta.\r\n V. Murtovarkaus pappilassa.\r\n VI. Huonekalut hulluina.\r\n VII. Vieraan paljastuminen.\r\n VIII. Menomatkalla.\r\n IX. Thomas Marvel.\r\n X. Marvelin k\xc3\xa4ynti Ipingiss\xc3\xa4.\r\n XI. "Vaunuissa ja Hevosissa"\r\n XII. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies menett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 malttinsa.\r\n XIII. Marvel pohtii alistumistaan.\r\n XIV. Port Stowessa.\r\n XV. Juokseva mies.\r\n XVI. "Hauskojen Kriketinpelaajien" ravintolassa.\r\n XVII. Tohtori Kempin vieras.\r\n XVIII. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies nukkuu.\r\n XIX. V\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n alkeisperusteita.\r\n XX. Portland-kadun varrella.\r\n XXI. Oxford-kadulla.\r\n XXII. Tavaravarastossa.\r\n XXIII. Drury-kujalla.\r\n XXIV. Ep\xc3\xa4onnistunut suunnitelma.\r\n XXV. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n miehen takaa-ajo.\r\n XXVI. Wicksteedin murha.\r\n XXVII. Kempin talon piiritys.\r\n XXVIII. Vainooja vainottavana.\r\n Loppuhuomautus.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nENSIMM\xc3\x84INEN LUKU\r\n\r\nVieraan miehen saapuminen\r\n\r\n\r\nVieras mies tuli helmikuun lopussa talvisena p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, purevan\r\ntuulen pyrytt\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4 talven viimeist\xc3\xa4 lumisadetta, marssien nummea\r\npitkin Bramblehurstin rautatieasemalta, pieni musta matkalaukku\r\npaksukintaisessa k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n oli verhoutunut huppuun p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\njalkoihin asti, ja h\xc3\xa4nen pehme\xc3\xa4n huopahattunsa reuna peitti joka\r\ntuuman h\xc3\xa4nen kasvoistaan, paitsi kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nen\xc3\xa4np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4. Lunta oli\r\nkasaantunut h\xc3\xa4nen hartioilleen ja rinnalleen, ja samaten se lis\xc3\xa4si\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kantamaansa taakkaa valkealla harjalla. H\xc3\xa4n meni hoiperrellen\r\nsis\xc3\xa4lle "Vaunuja ja hevosia" nimiseen majataloon paremminkin kuolleena\r\nkuin el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja paiskasi matkalaukkunsa lattialle.\r\n\r\n"Tulta", huusi h\xc3\xa4n, "ihmisrakkauden nimess\xc3\xa4! Huone ja tulta!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xb6misteli jalkojaan, pudisti lunta vaatteistaan tarjoiluhuoneessa\r\nja seurasi sitten rouva Hallia t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n vierashuoneeseen sopiakseen\r\nl\xc3\xa4hemmin asiasta. Sen enemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 esittelem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja heitetty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pari\r\nkultarahaa p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle h\xc3\xa4n asettui majataloon asumaan.\r\n\r\nRouva Hall sytytti tulta ja j\xc3\xa4tti h\xc3\xa4net yksin, mennen omak\xc3\xa4tisesti\r\nvalmistamaan h\xc3\xa4nelle ateriaa. Sellainen vieras, joka j\xc3\xa4i Ipingiin\r\ntalvisaikana, oli ennenkuulumaton onnensattuma, puhumattakaan siit\xc3\xa4,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 tulokas ei ollut kitsastelija. Em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttikin osoittautua\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4n onnensa arvoiseksi.\r\n\r\nNiin pian kuin liikki\xc3\xb6n paistaminen oli saatu hyv\xc3\xa4lle alulle ja\r\nMillie, v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4verinen palvelijatar, hiukan elvytetyksi muutamien\r\nn\xc3\xa4pp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4sti valittujen halveksivien sanojen voimalla, vei rouva Hall\r\np\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4liinan, lautaset ja lasit vierashuoneeseen ja alkoi j\xc3\xa4rjestell\xc3\xa4\r\np\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 erinomaisen komeaksi. Vaikka tuli paloikin vire\xc3\xa4sti, huomasi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksekseen vieraan yh\xc3\xa4 seisovan hattu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4llystakki\r\nyll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n selin h\xc3\xa4neen tuijottamassa ikkunasta, kuinka lunta tuprutti\r\npihalle.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n piti kintailla verhottuja k\xc3\xa4si\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ristiss\xc3\xa4 selk\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 takana ja\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti vaipuneen ajatuksiin. Rouva Hall huomasi h\xc3\xa4nen hartioilleen\r\nsataneen lumen sulavan ja valuvan matolle.\r\n\r\n"Saanko ottaa hattunne ja takkinne, herra", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n, "ja vied\xc3\xa4 ne\r\nkeitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n kunnollisesti kuivamaan?"\r\n\r\n"Ette", vastasi vieras k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nEm\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ei ollut varma siit\xc3\xa4, oliko kuullut oikein, ja aikoi uudistaa\r\nkysymyksens\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSilloin vieras k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja katsahti h\xc3\xa4neen olkansa yli. "Pid\xc3\xa4n\r\nne mieluummin yll\xc3\xa4ni", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n painokkaasti. Rouva Hall huomasi\r\nh\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 olevan suuret siniset silm\xc3\xa4lasit, joihin tuli valoa sivultakin,\r\nja tuuhean poskiparran, joka ulottui takin kauluksen yli ja peitti\r\nkokonaan h\xc3\xa4nen poskensa ja kasvonsa.\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4 on, herra", vastasi em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. "Niinkuin haluatte. Hetkisen kuluttua\r\nhuone l\xc3\xa4mpenee."\r\n\r\nVieras ei vastannut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, vaan oli taas k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4nyt kasvonsa poisp\xc3\xa4in.\r\nRouva Hall, joka huomasi keskusteluyritystens\xc3\xa4 sattuneen sopimattomaan\r\naikaan, pani loput p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4kalut nopeasti paikoilleen ja pujahti ulos\r\nhuoneesta. Palatessaan h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki vieraan yh\xc3\xa4 seisovan entisell\xc3\xa4\r\npaikallaan kuin kivipatsaana, selk\xc3\xa4 kumarassa, kaulus yl\xc3\xb6s k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnettyn\xc3\xa4\r\nja vett\xc3\xa4 tippuva hatunreuna taivutettuna alas, niin ett\xc3\xa4 se peitti\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa ja korvansa. Em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 laski munat ja sianlihan p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle\r\njokseenkin pontevasti ja paremminkin huusi kuin sanoi:\r\n\r\n"Aamiaisenne on valmis, herra."\r\n\r\n"Kiitos", vastasi vieras heti eik\xc3\xa4 liikahtanutkaan, ennenkuin rouva\r\nHall sulki oven. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4hti ja astui p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luo jokseenkin\r\nkiivaasti.\r\n\r\nMenness\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n takaa keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n rouva Hall kuuli \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen,\r\njoka toistui s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llisten v\xc3\xa4liaikojen kuluttua: sirk, sirk, sirk;\r\nsen sai aikaan lusikka, jota kierrettiin nopeasti vadissa. "Voi sit\xc3\xa4\r\ntytt\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4!" mutisi h\xc3\xa4n. "Sep\xc3\xa4 se, unohdin koko asian. Tuolla lailla h\xc3\xa4n\r\nvitkastelee!" Samalla kun h\xc3\xa4n itse lopetti sinapin valmistamisen,\r\nantoi h\xc3\xa4n Millielle muutamia pistoksia \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 hitaudesta. H\xc3\xa4n\r\noli paistanut sianlihan ja keitt\xc3\xa4nyt munat, itse kattanut p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n ja\r\ntehnyt kaiken muun, jolla v\xc3\xa4lin Millie (auttaja, mukamas!) oli vain\r\nnahjustellut sinapin valmistamisessa. Ja nyt oli tullut uusi vieras,\r\njonka toivottiin viipyv\xc3\xa4n! Sitten h\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytti sinappipullon, pani sen\r\naika komeasti kullan- ja mustankirjavalle teetarjottimelle ja vei\r\nvierashuoneeseen.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n koputti ovelle ja astui kohta sis\xc3\xa4lle. Silloin vieras liikahti\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, niin ett\xc3\xa4 rouva Hall n\xc3\xa4ki vain vilahdukselta jonkin valkean\r\nesineen katoavan p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taakse. N\xc3\xa4ytti silt\xc3\xa4 kuin vieras olisi\r\nottanut jotakin lattialta. Em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 laski sinappiastian p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle ja\r\nhuomasi samassa, ett\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4llystakki ja hattu oli riisuttu ja pantu\r\ntuolille tulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen. Ja pari m\xc3\xa4rki\xc3\xa4 kenki\xc3\xa4 uhkasi ruostuttaa h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nter\xc3\xa4ksisen tuliristikkonsa. H\xc3\xa4n meni p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti n\xc3\xa4iden kapineiden\r\nluo. "Luullakseni saan ne nyt vied\xc3\xa4 kuivamaan?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n sellaisella\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4, joka ei tuntunut siet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n kieltoa.\r\n\r\n"J\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hattu", vastasi vieras tukehtuneella \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nK\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnytty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n rouva Hall huomasi h\xc3\xa4nen nostaneen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja sai nyt\r\nkatsella h\xc3\xa4nen kasvojaan. Mutta tuokion aikaa em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 tuijotti h\xc3\xa4neen\r\nliian h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4 saadakseen sanaa suustaan.\r\n\r\nVastatulleella oli valkea vaate -- mukanaan tuomansa lautasliina\r\n-- kasvojen alaosan peittona, niin ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen suunsa ja leukansa\r\nolivat ihan piilossa. Senvuoksi h\xc3\xa4nen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nens\xc3\xa4kin oli tuntunut niin\r\ntukehtuneelta. Se ei kuitenkaan ollut syyn\xc3\xa4 siihen, ett\xc3\xa4 rouva Hall\r\nh\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4hti, vaan pel\xc3\xa4styksen aiheutti se, ett\xc3\xa4 sinisten silm\xc3\xa4lasien\r\nyl\xc3\xa4puolella peitti otsaa valkoinen side ja toinen korvia, eik\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkasvoistaan n\xc3\xa4kynyt muuta kuin vaaleanpunainen, ter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 nen\xc3\xa4. Se oli\r\nloistava, helakka ja kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kuten h\xc3\xa4nen tullessaankin. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4\r\noli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tummanruskea samettitakki, jossa oli korkea musta,\r\nliinakankaalla koristettu, niskasta yl\xc3\xb6s k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnetty kaulus. Paksu musta\r\ntukka ty\xc3\xb6ntyi niin paljon kuin suinkin esille poikittaisten siteiden\r\nalta ja v\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xa4 omituisina tupsuina ja sarvina, tehden h\xc3\xa4net per\xc3\xa4ti\r\noudoksi ilmi\xc3\xb6ksi. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 siteitten verhoama p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 oli niin toisenlainen\r\nkuin rouva Hall oli odottanut, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n hetkiseksi j\xc3\xa4ykistyi.\r\n\r\nVieras ei siirt\xc3\xa4nyt lautasliinaa pois, vaan piteli sit\xc3\xa4 yh\xc3\xa4, niinkuin\r\nrouva Hall nyt huomasi, ruskean hansikkaan peitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nja katseli h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 selitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mien, kiilt\xc3\xa4vien silm\xc3\xa4lasiensa l\xc3\xa4pi.\r\n"J\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hattu", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n puhuen ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti valkean liinan takaa.\r\n\r\nRouva Hallin hermot alkoivat rauhoittua pel\xc3\xa4styksen j\xc3\xa4lkeen. H\xc3\xa4n pani\r\nhatun j\xc3\xa4lleen tuolille tulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen. "En tiennyt, herra", aloitti h\xc3\xa4n,\r\n"ett\xc3\xa4..." Ja h\xc3\xa4n vaikeni h\xc3\xa4mill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Kiitos", virkkoi vieras kuivasti, katsahtaen h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 oveen ja sitten\r\ntaas h\xc3\xa4neen.\r\n\r\n"Toimitan ne paikalla hyvin kuivamaan", sanoi em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ja vei vaatteet\r\npois huoneesta.\r\n\r\nViel\xc3\xa4 ovesta menness\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n katsahti vieraan valkeiden k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reiden\r\npeitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ja kiilt\xc3\xa4viin silm\xc3\xa4laseihin, mutta lautasliina\r\noli yh\xc3\xa4 paikallaan. H\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4risytti v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ovea sulkiessaan, ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kasvoiltaan kuvastui selv\xc3\xa4sti h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stys ja neuvottomuus. "En\r\n_koskaan!"_ kuiskasi h\xc3\xa4n. "Sep\xc3\xa4 oli!" H\xc3\xa4n meni keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n ihan hiljaa ja\r\noli sinne tultuaan \xc3\xa4skeisen kokemuksensa liiaksi j\xc3\xa4rkytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 voidakseen\r\nkysy\xc3\xa4 Millielt\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n nyt t\xc3\xb6hersi.\r\n\r\nVieras istui kuunnellen h\xc3\xa4nen etenevi\xc3\xa4 askeleitaan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nviel\xc3\xa4 vilkaisi tutkivasti ikkunaan, ennenkuin otti lautasliinan\r\npois ja ryhtyi jatkamaan ateriaansa. H\xc3\xa4n puraisi suupalan, katsahti\r\nep\xc3\xa4luuloisesti ikkunaan ja puraisi toisen suupalan. Noustuaan\r\nseisomaan h\xc3\xa4n otti lautasliinan k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4veli huoneen poikki ja\r\nveti ikkunankaihtimen alas siihen valkeaan palttinaverhoon asti,\r\njoka varjosti alempia ruutuja. Nyt huone j\xc3\xa4i h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n palasi\r\nrauhoittuneen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luo ja k\xc3\xa4vi taas ruokaan k\xc3\xa4siksi.\r\n\r\n"Tuota miesparkaa on kohdannut onnettomuus tai sitten on h\xc3\xa4ness\xc3\xa4 tehty\r\nleikkaus tai jotakin sentapaista", sanoi rouva Hall. "Kyll\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 totisesti\r\npel\xc3\xa4styin noita siteit\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n lis\xc3\xa4si v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n hiili\xc3\xa4 tuleen, avasi vaateripustimen ja levitti\r\nmatkustajan takin sille. "Ja ne silm\xc3\xa4lasit! H\xc3\xa4nh\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti enemm\xc3\xa4n\r\nsukeltajan kyp\xc3\xa4rilt\xc3\xa4 kuin ihmisolennolta!" H\xc3\xa4n pani vieraan kaulahuivin\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen ripustimen kulmaan. "Ja pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tuota nen\xc3\xa4liinaa koko ajan\r\nsuunsa kohdalla. Ja puhuu sen l\xc3\xa4pi!... Kukaties oli h\xc3\xa4nen suunsakin\r\nvioittunut."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi kuin muistaen \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 jotakin. "Siunatkoon ja varjelkoon!"\r\nhuudahti h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4htien \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 liikkeelle, "etk\xc3\xb6 _viel\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n_ ole saanut\r\nnoita r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4syj\xc3\xa4 kuntoon, Millie?"\r\n\r\nKun rouva Hall meni korjaamaan p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 vieraan aamiaisruokia,\r\nvarmistui yh\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sityksens\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 miehen suukin oli leikattu\r\ntai vioittunut h\xc3\xa4nen kuvittelemassaan tapaturmassa, sill\xc3\xa4 koko sin\xc3\xa4\r\naikana, jonka rouva Hall oli huoneessa, h\xc3\xa4n ei hellitt\xc3\xa4nyt kasvojensa\r\nalaosan ymp\xc3\xa4ri k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ritty\xc3\xa4 silkkist\xc3\xa4 kaulahuivia pist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen piipun\r\nimukkeen huuliensa v\xc3\xa4liin, vaikka juuri tupakoitsi. Se ei suinkaan\r\njohtunut unohtamisesta, koska rouva Hall n\xc3\xa4ki h\xc3\xa4nen katselevan\r\npiipunpes\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, kuinka tuli kyti siin\xc3\xa4 loppuun. H\xc3\xa4n istui nurkassa\r\nselk\xc3\xa4 ikkunankaihtimeen p\xc3\xa4in ja puheli nyt, sy\xc3\xb6ty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja juotuaan\r\nja kunnollisesti l\xc3\xa4mmetty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, v\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4rtyis\xc3\xa4sti ja jurosti kuin\r\naikaisemmin. Tulen heijastus antoi h\xc3\xa4nen suurille silm\xc3\xa4laseilleen\r\njonkinlaista punaista eloisuutta, joka oli niilt\xc3\xa4 puuttunut t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n asti.\r\n\r\n"Minulla on v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n matkatavaroita Bramblehurstin asemalla", virkkoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n ja kysyi em\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4, kuinka saisi ne toimitetuiksi haltuunsa. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nkumarsi k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reiden peitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hyvin kohteliaasti kiitokseksi\r\nselityksist\xc3\xa4. "Huomennako?" sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Eik\xc3\xb6 k\xc3\xa4y p\xc3\xa4ins\xc3\xa4 hakea niit\xc3\xa4\r\naikaisemmin?" H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti pettyneelt\xc3\xa4 rouva Hallin vastatessa: "Ei."\r\n"Oletteko aivan varma? Eik\xc3\xb6 kukaan voisi l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 sinne hevosella?"\r\n\r\nRouva Hall vastaili hyvin auliisti ja yritti sitten panna keskustelua\r\nalulle. "Tie hiekkanummen yli on jokseenkin jyrkk\xc3\xa4", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n,\r\nkun tuli puhe hevosella ajamisesta, ja jatkoi k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4en hyv\xc3\xa4kseen\r\ntilaisuuden tarjoamaa aihetta: "V\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n toista vuotta sitten er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\r\najoneuvot kaatuivat siell\xc3\xa4. Muuan herra kuoli, paitsi ajajaa.\r\nTapaturmathan sattuvat yhdess\xc3\xa4 hetkess\xc3\xa4, eik\xc3\xb6 niin?"\r\n\r\nMutta vierasta ei saanut niin helposti mukaan. "Aivan niin", virkkoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n kaulahuiviinsa, katsellen em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 rauhallisesti l\xc3\xa4pitunkemattomien\r\nlasiensa takaa.\r\n\r\n"Mutta kest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kauan, ennenkuin niist\xc3\xa4 paranee, eik\xc3\xb6 niin? Minun\r\nsisarenpoikanikin, Tom, leikkasi k\xc3\xa4sivarteensa viikatteella --\r\nkompastui siihen niityll\xc3\xa4 -- ja varjelkoon, sai kolme kuukautta olla\r\nk\xc3\xa4si siteess\xc3\xa4! Tuskin uskonettekaan sellaista. Se on saanut minut ihan\r\npelk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n viikatetta."\r\n\r\n"Voin hyvin ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sen", sanoi matkustaja.\r\n\r\n"Pelk\xc3\xa4simme jonkin aikaa, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net pit\xc3\xa4isi leikata, kun h\xc3\xa4n oli niin\r\nhuonossa kunnossa."\r\n\r\nVieras naurahti katkonaisesti -- se oli jonkinlainen naurunhaukahdus,\r\njonka h\xc3\xa4n tuntui nielaisevan ja tukahduttavan suussaan. "Niink\xc3\xb6?"\r\nvirkkoi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin. Eik\xc3\xa4 se ollut mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n naurunasia niille, joiden piti\r\npuuhailla h\xc3\xa4nen kanssaan, niinkuin minun, sill\xc3\xa4 sisareni aika meni\r\nmelkein kokonaan pienokaisten hoitoon. Siin\xc3\xa4 sai sitoa k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reit\xc3\xa4, herra,\r\nja avata k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reit\xc3\xa4. Niin ett\xc3\xa4 jos uskallan sanoa..."\r\n\r\n"Annatteko minulle v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tulitikkuja?" keskeytti vieras jyrk\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n"Piippuni on sammunut."\r\n\r\nRouva Hall vaikeni \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, matkustaja menetteli tosiaankin tylysti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nkohtaan kaiken sen j\xc3\xa4lkeen; mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli tehnyt. H\xc3\xa4n tuijotti hetkisen\r\nvieraaseen, muisti sitten kultakolikot ja l\xc3\xa4hti noutamaan tulitikkuja.\r\n\r\n"Kiitos", sanoi vieras lyhyesti rouva Hallin pannessa ne p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle.\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi syrjitt\xc3\xa4in ja tuijotti taas ulos ikkunasta.\r\nIlmeisestikin oli leikkauksia ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reit\xc3\xa4 koskeva keskusteluaihe\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelle arka kohta. Rouva ei sittenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n "uskaltanut sanoa". Mutta\r\nvieraan t\xc3\xb6yke\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xb6s oli \xc3\xa4rsytt\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, ja Milliell\xc3\xa4 oli sin\xc3\xa4\r\niltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kuumat paikat.\r\n\r\nMatkustaja pysyi vierashuoneessa kello nelj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n asti, antamatta\r\nem\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4lle pienint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aihetta tulla huoneeseen. Enimm\xc3\xa4kseen h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\naivan hiljaa koko ajan. Tuntui silt\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4n istuisi sakenevassa\r\npime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, poltellen tulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4 -- ehk\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 torkkuenkin.\r\n\r\nKerran tai pari olisi utelias kuuntelija voinut kuulla h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkohentelevan hiili\xc3\xa4, ja viiden minuutin ajan h\xc3\xa4n asteli huoneessa\r\nedestakaisin. H\xc3\xa4n kuulosti puhelevan itsekseen. Sitten nojatuoli\r\nrasahti h\xc3\xa4nen taas istuutuessaan.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTOINEN LUKU\r\n\r\nTeddy Henfreyn ensivaikutelmat\r\n\r\n\r\nNelj\xc3\xa4n aikaan, kun oli jo hyvin pime\xc3\xa4 ja rouva Hall juuri koetti\r\nrohkaista mielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n menn\xc3\xa4kseen kysym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vieraaltaan, haluaisiko h\xc3\xa4n\r\nteet\xc3\xa4, tuli kellokauppuri Teddy Henfrey ravintolahuoneeseen.\r\n\r\n"Voi taivas, rouva Hall", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n, "t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 on vasta hirve\xc3\xa4 ilma\r\nohutkenk\xc3\xa4iselle!" Lunta pyrytti yh\xc3\xa4 sakeammin.\r\n\r\nRouva Hall my\xc3\xb6nsi niin olevan ja huomasi sitten, ett\xc3\xa4 kellokauppurilla\r\noli laukkunsa mukanaan. "Kun nyt kerran olette tullut, herra Teddy",\r\nsanoi h\xc3\xa4n, "niin toivoisin teid\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n vilkaisevan vierashuoneen\r\nvanhaan kelloon. Se k\xc3\xa4y ja ly\xc3\xb6 hyvin kovaa, mutta tuntiosoitin ei tee\r\nmuuta kuin n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 aina vain kuutta."\r\n\r\nHenfreyn edell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n meni vierashuoneen ovelle, koputti ja astui sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nAvatessaan oven h\xc3\xa4n huomasi, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen vieraansa istui nojatuolissa\r\ntulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4 ja n\xc3\xa4ytti torkkuvan, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reiden peitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 toiselle\r\npuolelle vaipuneena. Huoneen ainoana valaistuksena oli tulen hehku.\r\nKaikki oli punertavaa, varjomaista ja ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 rouva Hallin silmiss\xc3\xa4,\r\nvarsinkin kun h\xc3\xa4n oli juuri sytytt\xc3\xa4nyt ravintolahuoneen lampun ja h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 olivat h\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4istyneet. Mutta sekunnin ajan h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytti\r\nkuin tuolla miehell\xc3\xa4, jota h\xc3\xa4n katseli, olisi suunnaton suu aivan\r\nammollaan, laaja, uskomattoman iso suu, joka kerrassaan nieli h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkasvojensa alaosan. Se oli hetken vaikutelma: valkeaan k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ritty p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nhirve\xc3\xa4t silm\xc3\xa4lasit ja kammottava aukko sen alapuolella. Silloin vieras\r\nliikahti, suoristautui tuolillaan ja kohotti k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4. Rouva Hall avasi\r\novea enemm\xc3\xa4n, niin ett\xc3\xa4 huone tuli valoisammaksi, ja n\xc3\xa4ki matkustajan\r\nselvemmin, kaulaliina kasvoilla aivan samoin kuin oli n\xc3\xa4hnyt h\xc3\xa4nen\r\naikaisemmin pitelev\xc3\xa4n ruokaliinaa. H\xc3\xa4n luuli varjojen \xc3\xa4sken pett\xc3\xa4neen.\r\n\r\n"Suvaitsetteko, herra, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 mies tulee v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n katsomaan kelloa?"\r\nkysyi rouva Hall toipuen hetkellisest\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4mmingist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Katsomaan kelloa?" toisti vieras tuijottaen ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen unisen\r\nn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4 ja puhuen k\xc3\xa4mmenens\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4pi. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n her\xc3\xa4si paremmin ja\r\nvastasi: "Kyll\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nRouva Hall l\xc3\xa4hti hakemaan lamppua, ja matkustaja nousi ja venytteli\r\nitse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Sitten tuli valoa, ja sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n astuva Teddy Henfrey n\xc3\xa4ki\r\nedess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reisiin verhotun henkil\xc3\xb6n. H\xc3\xa4n "nolostui", kuten h\xc3\xa4n sanoi\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 iltaa", virkkoi matkustaja katsahtaen h\xc3\xa4neen, kuten Henfrey\r\nsanoi, muistellen tummien silm\xc3\xa4lasien v\xc3\xa4lkett\xc3\xa4, "aivan kuin hummeri".\r\n\r\n"Toivoakseni", sanoi Henfrey, "en lainkaan h\xc3\xa4iritse".\r\n\r\n"Ette suinkaan", vastasi vieras. "Vaikka k\xc3\xa4sitykseni mukaan", virkkoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyen rouva Halliin p\xc3\xa4in, "t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 huone kuuluu minulle yksin".\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 otaksuin, herra", sanoi rouva Hall, "ett\xc3\xa4 mieluummin soisitte\r\nkellon..."\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin", huomautti vieras, "aivan niin, mutta ylimalkaan min\xc3\xa4\r\nhaluan olla yksin ja rauhassa".\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi selin tulisijaan ja pani k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 sel\xc3\xa4n taakse.\r\n\r\n"Ja heti", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "kun kello on korjattu, haluaisin mielell\xc3\xa4ni\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n teet\xc3\xa4. Mutta ei ennen kuin kello on korjattu."\r\n\r\nRouva Hall oli l\xc3\xa4htem\xc3\xa4isill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n huoneesta -- h\xc3\xa4n ei t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kerralla\r\nyritt\xc3\xa4nyt saada keskustelua alkuun, koska ei halunnut Henfreyn\r\nl\xc3\xa4sn\xc3\xa4ollessa kuulla nolaavia sanoja -- kun h\xc3\xa4nen vieraansa kysyi, oliko\r\nh\xc3\xa4n ryhtynyt mihink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n toimiin Bramblehurstiin j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neiden matkalaukkujen\r\nnoutamiseksi. Em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 vastasi puhuneensa asiasta postinkuljettajalle,\r\njoka voisi tuoda ne seuraavana p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Olette siis varma, ettei se k\xc3\xa4y p\xc3\xa4ins\xc3\xa4 aikaisemmin?" kysyi matkustaja.\r\n\r\nRouva Hall vastasi my\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4en, mutta hyvin kylm\xc3\xa4kiskoisesti.\r\n\r\n"Haluan mainita teille", lis\xc3\xa4si vieras, "ett\xc3\xa4 olen kokeita tekev\xc3\xa4\r\ntutkija. Olin niin viluissani ja v\xc3\xa4synyt, etten tullut siit\xc3\xa4\r\npuhuneeksi."\r\n\r\n"Niink\xc3\xb6 tosiaankin?" virkkoi rouva Hall, jonka mielenkiinto virisi.\r\n\r\n"Ja minun matkatavarani sis\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t koneita ja v\xc3\xa4lineit\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ne ovat varmaankin hyvin hy\xc3\xb6dyllisi\xc3\xa4 kapineita", huomautti rouva Hall.\r\n\r\n"Ja haluan tietysti mielell\xc3\xa4ni jatkaa tutkimuksiani."\r\n\r\n"Se on selv\xc3\xa4 asia, herra."\r\n\r\n"Se vaikutin, joka sai minut tulemaan Ipingiin", puheli vieras\r\nedelleen, varovasti harkiten, "oli halu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 yksin\xc3\xa4isyyteen. En\r\nhalua, ett\xc3\xa4 minua h\xc3\xa4irit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ty\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4ni. Paitsi ty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4ni, er\xc3\xa4s tapaturma..."\r\n\r\n"Sit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n min\xc3\xa4 ajattelinkin", tuumi rouva Hall itsekseen.\r\n\r\n"Tekee syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vet\xc3\xa4ytymisen tavallaan v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi. Silm\xc3\xa4ni\r\novat toisinaan niin heikot ja arat, ett\xc3\xa4 minun on tuntikausiksi\r\nsulkeuduttava pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- oikein lukittava itseni seinien sis\xc3\xa4lle.\r\nToisinaan -- silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in. Ei nyt, ei mill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muotoa. Sellaisina\r\nhetkin\xc3\xa4 on pieninkin h\xc3\xa4iri\xc3\xb6, vieraan tulo huoneeseen, ihan kiduttavan\r\ntuskallinen minulle... N\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 asiat pit\xc3\xa4isi ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 jo alussa."\r\n\r\n"Aivan varmasti", sanoi rouva Hall. "Jos saisin olla niin rohkea ja\r\nkysy\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Siin\xc3\xa4 on luullakseni kaikki", vastasi vieras niin tyynen ja\r\nvastaanv\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n lopullisesti kuin h\xc3\xa4n osasi, milloin vain tahtoi.\r\nRouva Hall j\xc3\xa4tti kysymyksens\xc3\xa4 ja my\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4tuntonsa parempaan tilaisuuteen.\r\n\r\nRouva Hallin l\xc3\xa4hdetty\xc3\xa4 huoneesta j\xc3\xa4i matkustaja yh\xc3\xa4 seisomaan tulen\r\neteen ja tuijottamaan, niinkuin Henfrey sanoi, kellon korjausta.\r\nHenfrey teki ty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n lamppu vieress\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja vihre\xc3\xa4 varjostin loi\r\nhohtavaa valoa h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4siins\xc3\xa4, kellon kaappiin ja py\xc3\xb6riin ja j\xc3\xa4tti\r\nmuun osan huonetta pime\xc3\xa4ksi. Kun h\xc3\xa4n katsahti toisaalle, py\xc3\xb6ri\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen silmiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4rillisi\xc3\xa4 pilkkuja. Luonnostaan uteliaana h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\nottanut koneiston esille, mik\xc3\xa4 oli ihan tarpeeton toimenpide --\r\nhaluten viivytell\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja ehk\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 puheisiin vieraan kanssa.\r\nMutta matkustaja seisoi paikallaan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neti ja liikkumatta. Se alkoi\r\nv\xc3\xa4hitellen hermostuttaa Henfreyt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 tuntui kolkon yksin\xc3\xa4iselt\xc3\xa4\r\nhuoneessa. Katsahtaessaan tulisijaan p\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki harmaana ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reisiin verhotun p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja suunnattomat, tummat silm\xc3\xa4lasit,\r\njotka tuijottivat kiinte\xc3\xa4sti vihreiden pilkkujen lennelless\xc3\xa4 niiden\r\nedess\xc3\xa4. Se tuntui Henfreyst\xc3\xa4 niin kamalalta, ett\xc3\xa4 he j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t hetkiseksi\r\ntuijottamaan hievahtamatta toinen toiseensa. Sitten Henfrey j\xc3\xa4lleen\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi katseensa. Kerrassaan hankala asema! Olisi mielell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tahtonut\r\nsanoa jotakin. Huomauttaisiko h\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 ilma oli hyvin kylm\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nvuodenaikaan?\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n katsahti vieraaseen kuin t\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4kseen t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n alkulaukauksen.\r\n"Ilma..." aloitti h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Miksette lopeta ja l\xc3\xa4hde pois?" kysyi j\xc3\xa4ykk\xc3\xa4 olento ilmeisesti vaivoin\r\nhilliten raivoaan. "Teid\xc3\xa4nh\xc3\xa4n olisi vain kiinnitett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 tuntiosoitin\r\nkohdalleen. Teh\xc3\xa4n suorastaan puijaatte minua."\r\n\r\n"Kuulkaahan, herra -- minuutti vain en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Min\xc3\xa4 vain silm\xc3\xa4ilin..." ja\r\nHenfrey lopetti ty\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4hti pois.\r\n\r\nMutta h\xc3\xa4n oli \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n loukkaantunut. "Hitto viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n!" mutisi h\xc3\xa4n\r\ntallustellessaan kyl\xc3\xa4tiet\xc3\xa4 lumisateessa, "t\xc3\xa4ytyyh\xc3\xa4n kelloa joskus\r\nkorjata, _totisesti_."\r\n\r\nJa viel\xc3\xa4: "Eik\xc3\xb6 teihin saa katsoa? Rumilukseen!"\r\n\r\nJa sitten taas: "N\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti ei. Jos poliisi ajaisi teit\xc3\xa4 takaa, ette\r\nvoisi olla paksummissa k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reiss\xc3\xa4 ja siteiss\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nGleesonin nurkassa h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki Hallin, joka oli \xc3\xa4skett\xc3\xa4in nainut "Vaunujen\r\nja Hevosten" majatalon em\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4n ja nyt ajoi Ipingin vaunuja, kun ihmiset\r\nsattumalta niit\xc3\xa4 tarvitsivat, Sidderbridge Junctioniin, ja joka nytkin\r\noli sielt\xc3\xa4 paluumatkalla. Hall oli selv\xc3\xa4stikin "pys\xc3\xa4htynyt v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n"\r\nSidderbridgeen h\xc3\xa4nen ajotavastaan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en. "Mit\xc3\xa4 kuuluu, Teddy?" kysyi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n ohi menness\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Teill\xc3\xa4 on eri veike\xc3\xa4 olento kotona."\r\n\r\nHall pys\xc3\xa4hdytti hevosensa puhelunhaluisena. "Mik\xc3\xa4 se on?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Kummallisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen vieras on asettunut \'Vaunuihin ja Hevosiin\'",\r\nvirkkoi Teddy. "Totta totisesti!"\r\n\r\nJa h\xc3\xa4n ryhtyi el\xc3\xa4vin v\xc3\xa4rein kuvailemaan Hallille t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 eriskummaista\r\nvierasta. "Tuntuu v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n valepuvulta, vai mit\xc3\xa4? Min\xc3\xa4 haluaisin n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4\r\nihmisen kasvot, jos ottaisin h\xc3\xa4net vastaan _omiin_ huoneisiini", lis\xc3\xa4si\r\nHenfrey. "Mutta naiset ovat niin luottavaisia -- kun on puhe vieraista.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n on ottanut haltuunsa teid\xc3\xa4n huoneenne eik\xc3\xa4 ole edes ilmoittanut\r\nnime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, Hall."\r\n\r\n"Oikeinko tuo on totta?" virkkoi Hall, jolla oli hidas k\xc3\xa4sityskyky.\r\n\r\n"Kyll\xc3\xa4", vastasi Teddy. "Viikoksi. Mik\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n lieneekin, ette p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4se\r\nh\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 eroon viikon p\xc3\xa4iviin. Ja h\xc3\xa4n odottaa monia matkalaukkujaan\r\nhuomenna, niinkuin h\xc3\xa4n sanoo. Toivokaamme, ettei niiss\xc3\xa4 ole kivi\xc3\xa4,\r\nHall."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kertoi Hallille, kuinka h\xc3\xa4nen t\xc3\xa4ti\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oli Hastingsissa huiputtanut\r\ner\xc3\xa4s matkustaja, jonka laukut olivatkin tyhj\xc3\xa4t. N\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4tti Hallin\r\nep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4iseen ja arvelevaan mielentilaan. "L\xc3\xa4hdepp\xc3\xa4s liikkeelle, vanha\r\ntammani", virkkoi Hall. "Minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy tosiaankin ottaa asiasta selv\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nTeddy tallusteli edelleen, mieli tuntuvasti keventyneen\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nMutta sen sijaan, ett\xc3\xa4 olisi ottanut "selv\xc3\xa4n asiasta", Hall sai\r\npalatessaan kovan l\xc3\xa4ksytyksen vaimoltaan, koska oli viipynyt\r\nSidderbridgess\xc3\xa4 niin kauan. Yst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4llisiin kysymyksiin h\xc3\xa4n sai tiuskivia\r\neik\xc3\xa4 suinkaan tarkkoja vastauksia. Mutta Teddyn kylv\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ep\xc3\xa4luulon\r\nsiemen iti Hallin mieless\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4llaisesta masentavasta kohtelusta\r\nhuolimatta.\r\n\r\n"Ette te naiset kaikkea ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4", virkkoi Hall, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en ottaa\r\nvarmemman selon oudon miehen persoonasta ensimm\xc3\xa4isess\xc3\xa4 sopivassa\r\ntilaisuudessa. Ja h\xc3\xa4nen menty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n nukkumaan noin puolikymmenen aikaan\r\nHall astui hyvin taistelunhaluisena vierashuoneeseen, katseli ankarasti\r\nvaimonsa kalustoa nimenomaan n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen, ettei matkustaja ollut\r\nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, ja tutki v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ylenkatseellisesti er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 vieraan\r\nj\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 paperiarkkia, jossa oli matemaattisia teht\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4. Vet\xc3\xa4ytyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nmakuulle h\xc3\xa4n neuvoi rouva Hallia tarkoin katselemaan uuden tulokkaan\r\nmatkakapineita, kun ne tulisivat seuraavana p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Pid\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n huolta omista asioistasi, Hall", sanoi rouva Hall, "min\xc3\xa4 kyll\xc3\xa4\r\nhoidan omani".\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n oli sit\xc3\xa4kin halukkaampi n\xc3\xa4ykkim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Hallia, kun vieras ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\r\noli harvinaisen outo matkustaja, josta h\xc3\xa4n itsek\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei suinkaan\r\nollut varma. Puoliy\xc3\xb6n aikaan h\xc3\xa4n her\xc3\xa4si unesta, jossa oli n\xc3\xa4hnyt\r\nsuunnattomien, valkeiden, nauriintapaisten p\xc3\xa4iden laahautuvan\r\nj\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n loppumattomien kaulojen huipulla, suurten mustien silmien\r\nhehkussa. Mutta j\xc3\xa4rkev\xc3\xa4 nainen kun oli, h\xc3\xa4n hillitsi kauhunsa, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi\r\nja vaipui j\xc3\xa4lleen uneen.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKOLMAS LUKU\r\n\r\nTuhat yksi pulloa\r\n\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 omituinen mies singahti siis \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rett\xc3\xb6myydest\xc3\xa4 Ipingin kyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nhelmikuun yhdeks\xc3\xa4nten\xc3\xa4kolmatta p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 suojas\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n juuri alkaessa.\r\nSeuraavana p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 tulivat h\xc3\xa4nen matkatavaransa sohjukelill\xc3\xa4 -- ja\r\nkerrassaan ihmeelliset ne olivatkin. Niihin kuului pari matka-arkkua,\r\ntosiaan sellaisia kuin j\xc3\xa4rkimiehell\xc3\xa4 voisikin olla, mutta niiden\r\nlis\xc3\xa4ksi tuli laatikko kirjoja -- suuria, paksuja kirjoja, joista\r\nmuutamissa oli k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 kirjoitusta -- ja tusinan verran tai ehk\xc3\xa4\r\nenemm\xc3\xa4nkin koreja, laatikoita ja lippaita. N\xc3\xa4iss\xc3\xa4 oli olkiin pakattuja\r\nesineit\xc3\xa4, jotka Hallin mielest\xc3\xa4 olivat lasipulloja h\xc3\xa4nen sivumennen\r\nuteliaasti penkoessaan olkia. Matkustaja, jolla oli verhonaan hattu,\r\ntakki, hansikkaat ja viitta, tuli k\xc3\xa4rsim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ulos Fearensiden\r\najoneuvoja vastaan, Hallin vaihtaessa ajajan kanssa muutamia sanoja,\r\nennenkuin ryhtyisi auttamaan tavarain kantamista sis\xc3\xa4lle, eik\xc3\xa4\r\nollenkaan huomannut Fearensiden koiraa, joka ihastellen nuuski Hallin\r\njalkoja.\r\n\r\n"Tuokaa vihdoinkin ne arkut", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Olen jo tarpeeksi\r\nodottanut".\r\n\r\nJa h\xc3\xa4n astui rappusia my\xc3\xb6ten vaunujen per\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kohti kuin tarttuakseen\r\npienemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n koriin.\r\n\r\nMutta tuskin oli Fearensiden koira n\xc3\xa4hnyt h\xc3\xa4net, kun sen korvat\r\nnousivat pystyyn, ja se alkoi hurjasti murista. Vieraan kiirehtiess\xc3\xa4\r\nalas portaita se loikkasi ep\xc3\xa4varmasti ja karkasi sitten suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nkiinni h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4. "Voih!" huudahti Hall per\xc3\xa4ytyen, sill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n ei\r\nollut mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sankari koirien parissa, ja Fearenside kiljui: "Maahan!"\r\nja l\xc3\xa4isk\xc3\xa4ytti ruoskaansa.\r\n\r\nHe n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t koiran irroittaneen hampaansa k\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4, kuulivat potkaisun ja\r\nhuomasivat koiran tekev\xc3\xa4n syrj\xc3\xa4hypyn, tarttuvan kiinni vieraan s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen,\r\njolloin h\xc3\xa4nen housunsa kuuluivat repe\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n. Silloin sattui Fearensiden\r\nruoskan ohuempi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 koiraan, joka kauhusta ulvahtaen per\xc3\xa4ytyi vaunujen\r\npy\xc3\xb6rien alle. Kaikki tuo kesti vain vajaan puolen minuutin. Ei kukaan\r\npuhunut, kaikki huusivat. Vieras vilkaisi pikaisesti repeytyneeseen\r\nhansikkaaseensa ja s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reens\xc3\xa4, n\xc3\xa4ytti aikovan kumartua katsomaan\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkim\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4, mutta k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi sitten ja sy\xc3\xb6ksyi nopeasti portaita yl\xc3\xb6s\r\nmajataloon. He kuulivat h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4istikkaa rient\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n poikki ja\r\nyl\xc3\xb6s makuuhuoneeseensa matottomia portaita pitkin.\r\n\r\n"Kuuleppas sin\xc3\xa4, peto", sanoi Fearenside k\xc3\xb6mpien vaunuista maahan\r\nruoska k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, koiran katsellessa h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4pi. "Tulehan\r\nt\xc3\xa4nne!" jatkoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Parasta on nyt tulla."\r\n\r\nHall oli seisonut suu ammollaan. "Koira puri h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Minun\r\nt\xc3\xa4ytyy l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 katsomaan."\r\n\r\nJa h\xc3\xa4n juosta h\xc3\xb6lkytti vieraan j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4. K\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tapasi rouva\r\nHallin. "Ajajan koira", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "puri h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4".\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n asteli kiireesti yl\xc3\xa4kertaan, ja kun matkustajan huoneen ovi oli\r\nraollaan, ty\xc3\xb6nsi h\xc3\xa4n sen auki ja aikoi astua sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muitta mutkitta,\r\nsill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli my\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4tuntoisella mielell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nIkkunankaihdin oli vedetty alas ja huone h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n huomasi\r\nvilahdukselta kerrassaan oudon ilmi\xc3\xb6n, joka n\xc3\xa4ytti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti\r\nheiluvalta poikkihakatulta k\xc3\xa4sivarrelta, ja kasvot, joissa oli kolme\r\nsuurta ep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 valkoista l\xc3\xa4ikk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 aivan kuin vaalean orvokin\r\nter\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n sai kovan iskun rintaansa ja singahti takaisin.\r\nOvi l\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti kiinni vasten h\xc3\xa4nen kasvojaan ja v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnettiin lukkoon.\r\nKaikki tapahtui niin nopeasti, ettei h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ollut ollenkaan aikaa\r\ntarkasteluun. Muodottomien hahmojen vilahdus, isku ja t\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4hdys. Siin\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4n seisoi pienell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 portaiden siltamalla ihmetellen, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n\r\noikein olikaan n\xc3\xa4hnyt.\r\n\r\nMuutamien minuuttien kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n yhtyi siihen pieneen ryhm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, joka\r\noli kokoontunut "Vaunujen ja Hevosten" ulkopuolelle. Fearenside kertoi\r\njuttua taas toiseen kertaan. Rouva Hall sanoi, ettei h\xc3\xa4nen koirallaan\r\nollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oikeutta purra majatalon vieraita. Sekatavarakauppias\r\nHuxter tien toiselta puolelta seisoi siin\xc3\xa4 kyselem\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, niinik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sepp\xc3\xa4\r\nSandy Wadgers arvostelemassa, sit\xc3\xa4paitsi vaimoja ja lapsia, jotka\r\nkaikki puhelivat tyls\xc3\xa4sti: "\xc3\x84l\xc3\xa4pp\xc3\xa4s vain anna sen purra minua, muista\r\nse"; "ei ole oikein pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sellaisia koiria"; "miksi se sitten puri\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4?" ja niin edesp\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\nHallista, joka tuijotti heihin portailta ja kuunteli, tuntui\r\nuskomattomalta, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli n\xc3\xa4hnyt jotakin niin kummallista\r\nyl\xc3\xa4kerrassa. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi oli h\xc3\xa4nen sanavarastonsa liian rajoitettu\r\nriitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen h\xc3\xa4nen vaikutelmiensa kuvailemiseen.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tulevansa toimeen ilman apua", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n vastaukseksi\r\nvaimonsa kysymykseen. "Meid\xc3\xa4n on kai parasta ruveta kuljettamaan\r\nsis\xc3\xa4lle h\xc3\xa4nen matkatavaroitaan."\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4nen pit\xc3\xa4isi heti sy\xc3\xb6vytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 tulella", sanoi rouva Hall,\r\n"varsinkin jos se on v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tulehtunut".\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 ampuisin koiran, niin min\xc3\xa4 vain tekisin", huomautti er\xc3\xa4s nainen\r\njoukosta.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 alkoi koira uudelleen ulvoa.\r\n\r\n"Tulkaahan viimein!" huusi vihainen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni oviaukosta. Siin\xc3\xa4 seisoi\r\nvieras, huivi leuan ymp\xc3\xa4ri k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rittyn\xc3\xa4, kaulus pystyss\xc3\xa4 ja hattu\r\ntaivutettuna alasp\xc3\xa4in. "Mit\xc3\xa4 pikemmin saatte tavarat sis\xc3\xa4lle, sit\xc3\xa4\r\nparempi." Er\xc3\xa4s pihalla seisojista v\xc3\xa4itti h\xc3\xa4nen vaihtaneen housuja ja\r\nhansikkaita.\r\n\r\n"Saitteko pahan haavan, herra?" kysyi Fearenside. "Min\xc3\xa4 olen per\xc3\xa4ti\r\npahoillani, ett\xc3\xa4 koira..."\r\n\r\n"En pienint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", vastasi vieras. "En edes nahan repe\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Tuokaa nyt\r\ntavarat joutuin."\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n kirosi hiljaa, niin v\xc3\xa4itti Hall.\r\n\r\nKohta kun ensimm\xc3\xa4inen kori oli matkustajan m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ysten mukaan kannettu\r\nvierashuoneeseen, k\xc3\xa4vi h\xc3\xa4n siihen k\xc3\xa4siksi tavattoman kiihke\xc3\xa4sti\r\nja alkoi purkaa sit\xc3\xa4, hajoittaen olkia, v\xc3\xa4hint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\r\nrouva Hallin matosta. Sielt\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n otti pulloja -- pieni\xc3\xa4, paksuja,\r\njauhetta sis\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 pulloja, pieni\xc3\xa4 ja hoikkia pulloja, joissa oli\r\nv\xc3\xa4rillisi\xc3\xa4 ja valkeita nesteit\xc3\xa4, pitkulaisia sinisi\xc3\xa4 pulloja, joissa\r\noli nimilappu _myrkky\xc3\xa4_, py\xc3\xb6reit\xc3\xa4 pulloja, joilla oli hoikat kaulat,\r\nsuuria vihreit\xc3\xa4 lasipulloja, suuria valkeita lasipulloja, pulloja,\r\njoissa oli lasikorkit ja nimilappu kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 lasista, pulloja, joissa\r\noli puiset tuppilot, viinipulloja, ruoka\xc3\xb6ljypulloja -- ja laski ne\r\nriveihin lipastolle, uunin reunalle, ikkunan edess\xc3\xa4 olevalle p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle,\r\nymp\xc3\xa4ri lattiaa, kirjahyllylle -- kaikkialle. Bramblehurstin apteekki\r\nei voinut kerskailla niin monista pulloista. Se oli merkillinen n\xc3\xa4ky.\r\nKori toisensa j\xc3\xa4lkeen ty\xc3\xb6nsi esiin pulloja, kunnes kaikki kuusi\r\nolivat tyhj\xc3\xa4t ja p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 korkea kasa olkia. Ainoat esineet, jotka\r\nilmestyiv\xc3\xa4t n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 koreista pullojen keralla, olivat joukko koeputkia\r\nja huolellisesti pakattu vaaka.\r\n\r\nPurettuaan korien sis\xc3\xa4llyksen vieras siirtyi ikkunan luo ja ryhtyi\r\nty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6n, v\xc3\xa4hint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 hujan hajan j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neist\xc3\xa4 oljista,\r\nsammuneesta tulesta, ulkona olevasta kirjalaatikosta tai muista\r\nyl\xc3\xa4kertaan kannetuista matka-arkuista ja kapineista.\r\n\r\nKun rouva Hall toi h\xc3\xa4nelle p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4, oli h\xc3\xa4n jo niin kokonaan\r\nvaipunut ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4, tiputellen pulloista pieni\xc3\xa4 pisaroita koeputkiin,\r\nettei kuullut em\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4n askeleita, ennenkuin t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oli lakaissut\r\npois olkikasan ja pannut tarjottimen p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle, ehk\xc3\xa4 jonkun verran\r\ntarmokkaasti, n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n miss\xc3\xa4 kunnossa lattia oli. Sitten vieras\r\npuolittain k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja palautti sen taas paikalla entiseen\r\nasentoon. Mutta rouva Hall huomasi h\xc3\xa4nen ottaneen silm\xc3\xa4lasit pois.\r\nNe olivat h\xc3\xa4nen vieress\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, ja n\xc3\xa4ytti silt\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4kuoppansa olisivat olleet kerrassaan tyhj\xc3\xa4t. Sitten vieras pani\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4lasit j\xc3\xa4lleen kohdalleen ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi katselemaan em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\naikoi juuri ryhty\xc3\xa4 valittelemaan lattialle kasatuista oljista, kun\r\nvieras enn\xc3\xa4tti h\xc3\xa4nen edelleen.\r\n\r\n"Toivoisin, ettette tulisi sis\xc3\xa4lle koputtamatta", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n ihan\r\nluonnotonta kiukkua ilmaisevalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nenpainolla, joka oli h\xc3\xa4nelle niin\r\nominainen.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 koputin, mutta n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti..."\r\n\r\n"Ehk\xc3\xa4 niin. Mutta minun tutkimuksissani -- minun per\xc3\xa4ti t\xc3\xa4rkeiss\xc3\xa4\r\nja v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6miss\xc3\xa4 tutkimuksissani -- pieninkin h\xc3\xa4iri\xc3\xb6, oven\r\nraottaminen... Minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy pyyt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 teit\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin, herra. Voittehan lukita oven, jos kerran olette\r\ntuollainen. Milloin tahansa."\r\n\r\n"Siin\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 hyv\xc3\xa4 aate", vastasi vieras.\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oljet sitten. Jos uskaltaisin huomauttaa..."\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n nyt! Jos oljista on kiusaa, niin merkitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ne laskuun."\r\nJa h\xc3\xa4n mutisi em\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4lle sanoja, jotka ep\xc3\xa4ilytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti muistuttivat\r\nkirouksia.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n oli niin kummallisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen seisoessaan siin\xc3\xa4 hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nvimmastuneena pullo toisessa ja koeputki toisessa k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 rouva\r\nHall melkein pel\xc3\xa4styi. Mutta h\xc3\xa4n oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4inen nainen. "Siin\xc3\xa4\r\ntapauksessa haluaisin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, herra, mit\xc3\xa4 pid\xc3\xa4tte kohtuullisena..."\r\n\r\n"Shillingi\xc3\xa4 -- merkitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 shillingi. Varmaankin shillingi riitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Olkoon niin", sanoi rouva Hall, ottaen esille liinan ja ruveten\r\nlevitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sit\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle. "Jos olette tyytyv\xc3\xa4inen, niin tietysti..."\r\n\r\nVieras k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi ja istuutui takinkaulus em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\nKoko iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n ty\xc3\xb6skenteli ovi lukittuna. Ja enimm\xc3\xa4kseen hiljaa,\r\nniinkuin rouva Hall saattoi todistaa. Mutta kerran kuului t\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4hdys ja\r\nyhteen kalahtavien pullojen helin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin olisi isketty nyrkki\xc3\xa4\r\np\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Sitten saattoi erottaa lattialle viskattujen lasien kilin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n my\xc3\xb6hemmin nopeaa astelua huoneen poikki. Pel\xc3\xa4ten, ett\xc3\xa4 jotakin\r\noli hullusti, rouva Hall meni ovelle ja kuunteli v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 koputtaa.\r\n\r\n"En voi jatkaa t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4", raivosi vieras, "en _voi_ jatkaa! Kolmesataa\r\ntuhatta, nelj\xc3\xa4sataa tuhatta! Tuollainen hirve\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4! Petetty!\r\nKoko el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ni ajan se voi ahdistaa minua!... K\xc3\xa4rsiv\xc3\xa4llisyytt\xc3\xa4!\r\nK\xc3\xa4rsiv\xc3\xa4llisyytt\xc3\xa4 sent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n!... Hullu! hullu!"\r\n\r\nTarjoiluhuoneesta kuului keng\xc3\xa4nnaulojen kopinaa kivilattialla ja rouva\r\nHallin t\xc3\xa4ytyi, vastoin tahtoaankin poistua siit\xc3\xa4 paikasta, jossa oli\r\nkuunnellut vieraan yksinpuhelua. H\xc3\xa4nen palatessaan oli huoneessa ihan\r\nhiljaista, paitsi ett\xc3\xa4 kuului sen tuolin heikkoa narinaa, jolla vieras\r\nistui, ja pullon helin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in. Kaikki oli ohi, vieras oli\r\ntaas ryhtynyt ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nViedess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sis\xc3\xa4lle teet\xc3\xa4 rouva Hall huomasi er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 huoneen nurkassa\r\nkoveron peilin alapuolella lasinsirpaleita ja keltaisen tahran, joka\r\noli huolimattomasti pyyhk\xc3\xa4isty pois. H\xc3\xa4n huomautti siit\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Merkitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 se laskuun", s\xc3\xa4hisi vieras. "\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 Jumalan t\xc3\xa4hden vaivatko\r\nminua! Jos tapahtuu vahinkoa, niin merkitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 se laskuun", ja h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmerkitsi yh\xc3\xa4 numeroita edess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olevaan muistikirjaan.\r\n\r\n"Sanonpa teille jotakin", virkkoi Fearenside salaper\xc3\xa4isesti.\r\n\r\nOli my\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4inen iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4, ja he istuivat Iping Hangerin pieness\xc3\xa4\r\noluttuvassa.\r\n\r\n"No mit\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Teddy Henfrey.\r\n\r\n"Se koskee sit\xc3\xa4 miest\xc3\xa4, jota koirani puri. Kuulkaapas, h\xc3\xa4n on musta.\r\nAinakin h\xc3\xa4nen s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rens\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4in sen h\xc3\xa4nen housujensa ja hansikkaan\r\nrepe\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4. Olisi voinut odottaa n\xc3\xa4kev\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 jotakin vaaleaa, eik\xc3\xb6 niin?\r\nMutta ei -- mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sellaista ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt. Vain mustaa. Sanonpa teille,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on yht\xc3\xa4 musta kuin minun hattuni."\r\n\r\n"Sep\xc3\xa4 kummaa!" ihmetteli Henfrey. "Kerrassaan merkillinen juttu. Mutta\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen nen\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n on yht\xc3\xa4 hele\xc3\xa4 kuin maalattu!"\r\n\r\n"Niin on", my\xc3\xb6nsi Fearenside. "Sen tied\xc3\xa4n. Nyt kerron sinulle, mit\xc3\xa4\r\narvelen. Se mies on kirjava, Teddy, toisin paikoin musta, toisin\r\nvalkea. Ja h\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n on jotakin sekarotua, ja v\xc3\xa4ri on\r\nlevinnyt h\xc3\xa4neen eri l\xc3\xa4ikkin\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 ole sekaantunut. Olen kuullut\r\nsellaisesta ennenkin. Ja niin k\xc3\xa4y tavallisesti hevosten, niinkuin kuka\r\ntahansa voi huomata."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nNELJ\xc3\x84S LUKU\r\n\r\nCuss haastattelee vierasta\r\n\r\n\r\nOlen kuvaillut jokseenkin yksityiskohtaisesti muukalaisen saapumista\r\nIpingiin, jotta lukija ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4isi h\xc3\xa4nen aikaansaamansa omituisen\r\nvaikutuksen. Mutta lukuunottamatta kahta kummallista tapausta saattaa\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen oleskeluaan koskevat asianhaarat sivuuttaa hyvin lyhyesti siihen\r\nerikoiseen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n asti, jolloin vietettiin klubin juhlaa.\r\n\r\nRouva Hallin kanssa h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 sattui monta kahakkaa kotoisen j\xc3\xa4rjestyksen\r\nvuoksi, mutta huhtikuun loppuun asti, jolloin n\xc3\xa4kyi ensi merkkej\xc3\xa4\r\nrahanpuutteesta, h\xc3\xa4n joka tapauksessa voitti em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 sill\xc3\xa4 helpolla\r\nkeinolla, ett\xc3\xa4 suoritti eri maksun. Hall ei pit\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 ja arveli\r\nmilloin vain uskalsi, ett\xc3\xa4 olisi viisainta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 eroon vieraasta.\r\nEnimm\xc3\xa4kseen h\xc3\xa4n kuitenkin uljaasti salasi vastenmielisyytens\xc3\xa4 ja v\xc3\xa4ltti\r\nvierastaan niin paljon kuin mahdollista.\r\n\r\n"Odotappas kes\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n asti", virkkoi rouva Hall ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4isesti, "jolloin\r\ntaiteilijat alkavat tulla. Silloin saamme n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n voi olla v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nkomenteleva, mutta t\xc3\xa4sm\xc3\xa4llisesti maksetut laskut ovat t\xc3\xa4sm\xc3\xa4llisesti\r\nmaksettuja laskuja, mit\xc3\xa4 sitten sanonetkin."\r\n\r\nVieras ei k\xc3\xa4ynyt kirkossa eik\xc3\xa4 vaatteittensakaan puolesta tehnyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nerotusta pyh\xc3\xa4n ja arkip\xc3\xa4ivien v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4. Rouva Hallin mielest\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n teki\r\nty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4 hyvin oikullisesti. Joinakin p\xc3\xa4ivin\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tuli varhain alakertaan\r\nja ty\xc3\xb6skenteli yht\xc3\xa4mittaisesti. Toisina h\xc3\xa4n nousi my\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kulki\r\nhuoneessaan kiivaasti edestakaisin tuntikausia, poltteli tai nukkui\r\nistuen nojatuolissa tulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ei ollut mink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nlaista\r\nyhteytt\xc3\xa4 kyl\xc3\xa4n ulkopuolisen maailman kanssa. H\xc3\xa4nen mielenlaatunsa\r\npysyi edelleenkin perin ep\xc3\xa4luotettavana. Enimm\xc3\xa4kseen h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytyi\r\nkuin mies, jota vaivaa melkein siet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n \xc3\xa4rtyisyys, ja kerran tai\r\npari h\xc3\xa4n katkaisi, repi, s\xc3\xa4rki tai murskasi esineit\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4killisess\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4kivaltaisuuden puuskassa. H\xc3\xa4nen tapansa puhella itsekseen matalalla\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4vi yh\xc3\xa4 yleisemm\xc3\xa4ksi, mutta vaikka rouva Hall kuunteli\r\ntunnollisesti, ei h\xc3\xa4n saanut v\xc3\xa4hint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuulemastaan.\r\n\r\nHarvoin h\xc3\xa4n liikkui ulkona p\xc3\xa4ivisin, mutta h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli\r\ntapana l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 liikkeelle tiukasti verhottuna, yhdentekev\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 oliko\r\nkylm\xc3\xa4 vai ei, ja h\xc3\xa4n valitsi yksin\xc3\xa4isimm\xc3\xa4t polut tai tiet, joita puut\r\nja t\xc3\xb6yr\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t enimmin varjostivat. H\xc3\xa4nen mulkoilevat silm\xc3\xa4lasinsa ja\r\nkaameat, sidotut hatun varjostamat kasvonsa ilmestyiv\xc3\xa4t ep\xc3\xa4miellytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 pimeydest\xc3\xa4 jonkun kotiin palaavan ty\xc3\xb6miehen eteen, ja Teddy\r\nHenfrey, sy\xc3\xb6ks\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 iltana ulos "Tulipunaisen Takin"\r\nravintolasta puolikymmenen aikaan, pel\xc3\xa4styi hurjasti pelk\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kallon\r\nn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 (h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4veli hattu k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4), johon \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 lankesi valoa\r\navoimesta ravintolan ovesta. Lapset, jotka n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4net iltamy\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nuneksivat m\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4, ja ep\xc3\xa4ilytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytti, olivatko pojat h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4\r\nvastenmielisempi\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4n pojista, mutta joka tapauksessa oli\r\nvastenmielisyys kummallakin taholla hyvin voimakas.\r\n\r\nEhdottomasti oli niin merkillisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen ja sill\xc3\xa4 tavalla k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytyv\xc3\xa4\r\nhenkil\xc3\xb6 tavallisena keskustelunaiheena Ipingin kaltaisessa kyl\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4.\r\nPaikkakuntalaiset k\xc3\xa4sittiv\xc3\xa4t kovin eri tavalla h\xc3\xa4nen puuhansa. Rouva\r\nHallille se oli arka asia. Kysytt\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n selitti hyvin varovasti,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 vieras oli "eksperimenteeraava tutkija", sivuuttaen siev\xc3\xa4sti\r\nmonta tavua kuin salakuoppia pel\xc3\xa4ten. Kun h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 kysyi, mit\xc3\xa4\r\n"eksperimentteeraava" tutkija oli, sanoi h\xc3\xa4n jonkinlaista etev\xc3\xa4mmyytt\xc3\xa4\r\nvihjaisten, ett\xc3\xa4 useimmat sivistyneet ihmiset tiesiv\xc3\xa4t, mit\xc3\xa4 se oli,\r\nja ett\xc3\xa4 se merkitsi niin paljon kuin "salattujen asiain keksij\xc3\xa4".\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen vierastaan oli muka kohdannut tapaturma, joka oli joksikin\r\naikaa pilannut h\xc3\xa4nen kasvojensa ja k\xc3\xa4siens\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4rin, ja kun h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli\r\ntunteellinen luonne, ei h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 haluttanut kiinnitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 asiaan yleis\xc3\xb6n\r\nhuomiota.\r\n\r\nKun rouva Hall ei ollut saapuvilla, lausuttiin hyvinkin usein sellaisia\r\narveluita, ett\xc3\xa4 matkustaja oli rikollinen, joka koetti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 lain\r\nkourista peitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 itsens\xc3\xa4 poliisin silmilt\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ajatus oli\r\nl\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xb6isin Teddy Henfreyn aivoista. Ei tiedetty mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mainitsemisen\r\narvoista rikosta tapahtuneeksi helmikuun puoliv\xc3\xa4lin tai loppup\xc3\xa4ivien\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeen. Kansalliskoulun koetteelle m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4tyn apulaisen Gouldin\r\nmielikuvituksessa t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sitys muuttui sellaiseksi, ett\xc3\xa4 vieras oli\r\nvalepukuinen anarkisti, joka valmisteli r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdysaineita, ja h\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti\r\nryhty\xc3\xa4 niihin salapoliisin toimenpiteisiin, joihin h\xc3\xa4nen aikansa\r\nriitti. N\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 puuhat ilmeniv\xc3\xa4t enimm\xc3\xa4kseen siten, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n katsoi hyvin\r\ntarkasti muukalaiseen, milloin vain n\xc3\xa4ki h\xc3\xa4net, tai kyseli ihmisilt\xc3\xa4,\r\njotka eiv\xc3\xa4t olleet koskaan n\xc3\xa4hneet vierasta. Mutta h\xc3\xa4n ei saanut\r\nselville mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nToinen mielipiteiden suunta noudatti Fearensidea ja joko hyv\xc3\xa4ksyi\r\nk\xc3\xa4sityksen, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli kirjava, tai jonkin muunnoksen siit\xc3\xa4. Niinkuin\r\nesimerkiksi Silas Durgan, jonka kuultiin vakuuttavan, ett\xc3\xa4 "jos h\xc3\xa4n\r\ntahtoisi n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4yty\xc3\xa4 Aatamin puvussa, h\xc3\xa4n rikastuisi tuossa tuokiossa",\r\nja -- jonkun verran teologi kun oli -- vertaavan vierasta mieheen,\r\njolla oli yksi leivisk\xc3\xa4. Sellaistakin mielipidett\xc3\xa4 esitettiin, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nmatkustaja oli vaaraton v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rkinen. T\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sityksell\xc3\xa4 oli se etu,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 kaikki seikat oli sen avulla helppo selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4iden p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ryhmien\r\nv\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4 oli ep\xc3\xa4ilij\xc3\xb6it\xc3\xa4 ja sovittelijoita. Sussexilaiset eiv\xc3\xa4t ole\r\nkovinkaan taikauskoisia, ja vasta huhtikuun alkupuolella sattuneiden\r\ntapausten j\xc3\xa4lkeen ensi kerran kuiskattiin kyl\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ajatus, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\noli jotakin yliluonnollista. Silloinkin sit\xc3\xa4 uskoivat vain naiset.\r\n\r\nMutta mit\xc3\xa4 tahansa h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 vain ajateltiinkin, oli Ipingin asukkaille\r\nyhteist\xc3\xa4 se, etteiv\xc3\xa4t he pit\xc3\xa4neet h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen \xc3\xa4rtyisyytens\xc3\xa4, vaikka\r\nsen olisi voinut k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kaupunkilaisessa henkisen ty\xc3\xb6n tekij\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4,\r\noli n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 rauhallisista sussexilaisista h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4. Tuon tuostakin\r\nheit\xc3\xa4 ihmetyttiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen kiihke\xc3\xa4t liikkeens\xc3\xa4; kiivaasti k\xc3\xa4velless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\npime\xc3\xa4n tultua h\xc3\xa4n oli t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4nnyt heihin rauhallisen nurkan takaa,\r\nlyijyp\xc3\xa4isell\xc3\xa4 kepill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n uhkasi kaikkia uteliaita tunkeilijoita,\r\nh\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4 miellytti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 siin\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rin, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n sulki ovet, veti alas\r\nkaihtimet, sammutti kynttil\xc3\xa4t ja lamput -- kuka saattoi hyv\xc3\xa4ksy\xc3\xa4\r\ntuollaista menettely\xc3\xa4? He vet\xc3\xa4ytyiv\xc3\xa4t syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nen kulkiessaan\r\nkyl\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, ja kun h\xc3\xa4n oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt ohitse, oli nuorilla humoristeilla\r\ntapana nostaa takkinsa kaulus ja painaa hatun reuna alas ja astella\r\nhermostuneesti h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, matkien h\xc3\xa4nen salaper\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nSiihen aikaan laulettiin yleisesti er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 laulua, jonka nimi oli\r\n"M\xc3\xb6rk\xc3\xb6mies". Neiti Satchell oli laulanut sen koulusalissa pit\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nkonsertissa -- kirkon lamppujen hyv\xc3\xa4ksi ja senj\xc3\xa4lkeen, milloin tahansa\r\npari kyl\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 oli yhdess\xc3\xa4 vieraan ilmestyess\xc3\xa4, kuuli vihellett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\ntahtia tai paria t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 s\xc3\xa4veleest\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n tai v\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4n selv\xc3\xa4sti.\r\nMy\xc3\xb6skin my\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4styneill\xc3\xa4 pikku lapsilla oli tapana huutaa "M\xc3\xb6rk\xc3\xb6mies"\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4lkeens\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 juoksemaan vavisten ja ylpein\xc3\xa4 uskaliaasta\r\nteostaan.\r\n\r\nHaavuri Cuss oli ihan menehtym\xc3\xa4isill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n uteliaisuudesta. Siteet\r\nkiihoittivat h\xc3\xa4nen ammatillista harrastustaan, huhu tuhannesta yhdest\xc3\xa4\r\npullosta her\xc3\xa4tti h\xc3\xa4ness\xc3\xa4 kateellista huomiota. Koko huhti- ja toukokuun\r\najan h\xc3\xa4n tavoitteli tilaisuutta puhella vieraan kanssa ja vihdoin\r\nhelluntain tienoilla h\xc3\xa4n ei malttanut en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kauemmin, vaan keksi\r\npuolustuksekseen avustuslistan kyl\xc3\xa4n sairaanhoitajattaren hyv\xc3\xa4ksi.\r\nH\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksekseen h\xc3\xa4n huomasi, ettei Hall tiennyt vieraansa nime\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n mainitsi nimen", virkkoi rouva Hall -- mik\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4ite oli aivan\r\nperusteeton, "mutta min\xc3\xa4 en kuullut sit\xc3\xa4 oikein". H\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 tuntui kovin\r\ntyper\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 olla tiet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 matkustajan nime\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nCuss koputti vierashuoneen ovelle ja astui sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Sielt\xc3\xa4 kuului\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti kirous.\r\n\r\n"Suokaa anteeksi tunkeilevaisuuteni", virkkoi Cuss. Samassa ovi\r\nsulkeutui ja katkaisi rouva Hallilta tilaisuuden kuulla keskustelun\r\njatkoa.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n saattoi erottaa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nten mutinaa seuraavien kymmenen minuutin\r\nkuluessa, sitten h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen huudon ja jalkojen kopinaa; tuoli\r\npaiskattiin sivulle, joku r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti nauramaan, nopeat askeleet l\xc3\xa4heniv\xc3\xa4t\r\novea, ja Cuss ilmestyi takaisin kasvot valkeina ja silm\xc3\xa4t tuijottavina.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4tti oven auki takanaan ja katsahtamatta rouva Halliin sy\xc3\xb6ksi\r\nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n poikki ja hypp\xc3\xa4si alas portaita, ja pian h\xc3\xa4n kuului\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4pahkaa juoksevan pitkin tiet\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli hattu k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Rouva\r\nHall seisoi tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n takana katsellen avointa vierashuoneen ovea\r\nkohti. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n kuuli vieraan naurahtavan rauhallisesti ja astuvan\r\nhuoneen poikki. H\xc3\xa4n ei voinut n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 miehen kasvoja silt\xc3\xa4 paikalta,\r\nmiss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n seisoi. Vierashuoneen ovi paukahti kiinni, ja taas oli kaikki\r\nhiljaa.\r\n\r\nCuss meni suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kyl\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xa4laitaan Buntingin kappalaisen puheille.\r\n\r\n"Olenko min\xc3\xa4 hullu?" kysyi Cuss ensi sanoikseen astuessaan sis\xc3\xa4lle\r\npieneen viheli\xc3\xa4iseen lukuhuoneeseen. "N\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xb6 min\xc3\xa4 mielipuolelta?"\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 on tapahtunut?" tiedusti kappalainen pannen ison kiekuraisen\r\nsimpukankuoren valmistuvan saarnansa irtolehdille.\r\n\r\n"Majatalossa asustava mies..."\r\n\r\n"No mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Antakaa minulle v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n juomista", virkkoi Cuss ja istuutui.\r\n\r\nKun h\xc3\xa4nen hermonsa olivat rauhoittuneet lasillisesta halpaa\r\nsherryviini\xc3\xa4 -- muuta juomaa ei kunnon kappalaisella ollut -- kertoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4skeisest\xc3\xa4 keskustelustaan.\r\n\r\n"Menin sis\xc3\xa4lle", huohotti h\xc3\xa4n, "ja aloin pyyt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nimikirjoitusta\r\nsairaanhoitajattaren avustuslistaan. H\xc3\xa4n oli pist\xc3\xa4nyt k\xc3\xa4det taskuunsa\r\nminun tullessani sis\xc3\xa4lle ja istuutui raskaasti tuoliinsa. Tuhahti\r\nsitten nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Mainitsin h\xc3\xa4nelle kuulleeni h\xc3\xa4nen harrastavan\r\ntieteellisi\xc3\xa4 asioita. H\xc3\xa4n sanoi: \'Kyll\xc3\xa4\'. Tuhahti sitten taas.\r\nTuhahteli sitten kaiken aikaa, ilmeisesti h\xc3\xa4n oli perinpohjin\r\nvilustunut. Eik\xc3\xa4 ihmek\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kun tuolla lailla k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rii itsens\xc3\xa4. Min\xc3\xa4\r\nesitin sairaanhoitajattaren asian ja pidin silmi\xc3\xa4ni kaiken aikaa\r\nauki. Pulloja -- kemiallisia aineita -- kaikkialla. Vaaka, koeputkia\r\npienill\xc3\xa4 jalustoilla ja keltaesikon tuoksua. Kirjoittaisiko h\xc3\xa4n alle?\r\nSanoi miettiv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4. Kysyin h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 suoraan, tutkiko h\xc3\xa4n. Sanoi\r\ntutkivansa. Oliko pitk\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6? H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4vi kovin \xc3\xa4rtyis\xc3\xa4ksi ja sanoi:\r\n\'Kirotun pitk\xc3\xa4\', puhaltaen korkin ulos, niin sanoakseni. \'Niink\xc3\xb6?\'\r\nvirkoin min\xc3\xa4. Ja silloin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si kiukku valloilleen. Mies oli ihan\r\nkiehumispisteess\xc3\xa4, ja minun kysymykseni sai h\xc3\xa4net kuohahtamaan yli\r\n\xc3\xa4yr\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nelle oli annettu ohje -- mit\xc3\xa4 kallisarvoisin ohje --\r\nmihin tarkoitukseen, sit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n ei tahtonut sanoa. Oliko se l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rin\r\nresepti? \'Lempo teid\xc3\xa4t viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n! Mit\xc3\xa4 te oikein kalastelette?\' Min\xc3\xa4\r\npuolustauduin. Arvokasta nuuskahtelemista ja yskimist\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n tyyntyi\r\ntaas. H\xc3\xa4n oli lukenut sen. Viisi ainesta. H\xc3\xa4n pani sen p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle. Sitten\r\nh\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ikkunasta k\xc3\xa4yv\xc3\xa4 tuulenveto kohotti paperin ilmaan.\r\nSuhinaa ja kahinaa. H\xc3\xa4n sanoi ty\xc3\xb6skentelev\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 huoneessa, jossa oli\r\navoin tulisija. N\xc3\xa4in vain v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hdyksen, ja resepti syttyi tuleen ja\r\nnousi savupiippuun. H\xc3\xa4n hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si sit\xc3\xa4 kohti, juuri kun se kohahti yl\xc3\xb6s.\r\nNoin! Samassa pisti h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivartensa esiin kuin valaistakseen h\xc3\xa4nen\r\njuttuaan."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 sitten?"\r\n\r\n"Ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4. Vain tyhj\xc3\xa4 hiha. Voi ihmett\xc3\xa4! Ajattelin, ett\xc3\xa4 se on\r\nep\xc3\xa4muodostuma. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on korkista k\xc3\xa4sivarsi, otaksuin, ja nyt h\xc3\xa4n\r\non ottanut sen pois. Mutta siin\xc3\xa4 on sittenkin jotakin kummallista,\r\nmietiskelin. Mik\xc3\xa4 hitto pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hihaa ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ja avoinna, jollei siell\xc3\xa4\r\nole mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sis\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4? Siell\xc3\xa4 ei ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sen vakuutan. Ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nainakaan taipeeseen asti. Saatoin n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 hihan sis\xc3\xa4lle ihan kyyn\xc3\xa4rp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nsaakka, ja vaatteen repe\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4pi paistoi valoa. \'Hyv\xc3\xa4 Jumala!\' sanoin.\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n seisahtui. Tuijotti minuun tyhjill\xc3\xa4 mulkosilmill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nsitten hihaansa."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 sitten?"\r\n\r\n"Siin\xc3\xa4 kaikki. H\xc3\xa4n ei lausunut sanaakaan, tuijotti vain ja pani hihan\r\nnopeasti takaisin taskuunsa. \'Aioin sanoa\', virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, \'ett\xc3\xa4 resepti\r\npaloi, eik\xc3\xb6 palanut?\' Kysyv\xc3\xa4 ysk\xc3\xa4hdys. \'Kuinka lemmossa\', sanoin,\r\n\'voitte liikuttaa tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hihaa tuolla lailla?\' \'Tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hihaa?\' \'Niin\',\r\nvastasin, \'tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hihaa\'. \'Seh\xc3\xa4n on tyhj\xc3\xa4 hiha, vai mit\xc3\xa4? Teh\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4itte, ett\xc3\xa4 se oli tyhj\xc3\xa4 hiha?\' H\xc3\xa4n nousi seisomaan suoraksi. Min\xc3\xa4kin\r\nnousin. H\xc3\xa4n tuli minua kohti kolmella hyvin hitaalla askeleella ja\r\nj\xc3\xa4i seisomaan ihan viereeni. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n nuuskahti h\xc3\xa4ijysti. Min\xc3\xa4 en\r\nr\xc3\xa4pytt\xc3\xa4nyt silm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, vaikka menenp\xc3\xa4 hirteen, jolleiv\xc3\xa4t siteisiin\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ritty nuppi ja silm\xc3\xa4kaihtimet ole kyllin kauheita hermostuttaakseen\r\nket\xc3\xa4 tahansa."\r\n\r\n\'Sanoitte hihan olleen tyhj\xc3\xa4n?\' sanoi h\xc3\xa4n taas. \'Aivan niin\', sanoin.\r\nTuijottamisesta ja sanattomuudesta voi paljaskasvoinen ja silm\xc3\xa4lasiton\r\nmies pel\xc3\xa4sty\xc3\xa4. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n hyvin hitaasti veti hihan j\xc3\xa4lleen taskustaan\r\nja nosti k\xc3\xa4sivartensa minua kohti kuin olisi taas tahtonut n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4\r\nminulle. H\xc3\xa4n teki sen hyvin, hyvin hitaasti. Min\xc3\xa4 katselin sit\xc3\xa4. Tuntui\r\nkest\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n iankaikkisen kauan. \'No niin\', virkoin ryk\xc3\xa4isten, \'siell\xc3\xa4 ei\r\nole mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\'.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4ytyih\xc3\xa4n jotakin sanoa. Aloin tuntea pelkoa. Saatoin selv\xc3\xa4sti n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4\r\nhihan sis\xc3\xa4lle. H\xc3\xa4n ojensi sen suoraksi minua kohti, hitaasti, hitaasti\r\n-- aivan n\xc3\xa4in, -- kunnes kalvosin oli kuuden tuuman p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kasvoistani.\r\nKauhean kummallista oli n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 tyhj\xc3\xa4n hihan tuolla lailla l\xc3\xa4hestyv\xc3\xa4n! Ja\r\nsitten..."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 sitten?"\r\n\r\n"Jokin -- se tuntui etusormelta ja peukalolta -- nipisti nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni."\r\n\r\nBunting alkoi nauraa.\r\n\r\n"Siin\xc3\xa4 ei ollut kuitenkaan mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n!" sanoi Cuss, ja h\xc3\xa4nen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nens\xc3\xa4\r\nkohosi ihan huudoksi "mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n" sanan kohdalla. "Kyll\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n teid\xc3\xa4n sopii\r\nnauraa, mutta uskokaa pois, ett\xc3\xa4 silloin pel\xc3\xa4styin. L\xc3\xb6in kovasti h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkalvosintaan, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyin ja sy\xc3\xb6ksin ulos huoneesta -- j\xc3\xa4tin h\xc3\xa4net..."\r\n\r\nCuss vaikeni. Ei voinut ep\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen pakokauhunsa oli\r\nvilpit\xc3\xb6n. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4hti avuttoman n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4 ja otti toisen lasin\r\nerinomaisen kappalaisen hyvin huonoa viini\xc3\xa4. "Ly\xc3\xb6dess\xc3\xa4ni h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkalvosintaan", lis\xc3\xa4si Cuss, "tuntui minusta aivan kuin olisin ly\xc3\xb6nyt\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivartta, uskokaa pois."\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xa4 siin\xc3\xa4 kuitenkaan ollut mink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nlaista k\xc3\xa4sivartta! Ei k\xc3\xa4sivarren\r\nituakaan!"\r\n\r\nHerra Bunting ajatteli asiaa. H\xc3\xa4n katsahti ep\xc3\xa4luuloisesti Cussiin. "Se\r\non per\xc3\xa4ti merkillinen juttu", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti tosiaankin kovin\r\nviisaalta ja vakavalta. "Sep\xc3\xa4 on kerrassaan merkillinen juttu", sanoi\r\nherra Bunting pontevasti kuin tuomiota julistaen.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nVIIDES LUKU\r\n\r\nMurtovarkaus pappilassa\r\n\r\n\r\nPappilaan tehdyn murtovarkauden yksityiskohdat olemme p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4asiassa\r\nkuulleet kappalaiselta ja h\xc3\xa4nen rouvaltaan. Se tapahtui\r\nhelluntaimaanantaina aamuy\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4, samana p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, joka oli pyhitetty\r\nIpingin klubin juhlalle. Rouva Bunting her\xc3\xa4si \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 siin\xc3\xa4\r\nhiljaisuudessa, joka vallitsee ennen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nkoittoa. H\xc3\xa4n oli saanut\r\nihan varmasti sen vaikutelman, ett\xc3\xa4 heid\xc3\xa4n makuuhuoneensa ovi oli\r\navautunut ja sulkeutunut. H\xc3\xa4n ei heti her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt miest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, vaan\r\nnousi istumaan vuoteessaan ja kuunteli. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n kuuli selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\npaljaiden jalkojen tassutusta. Askeleet tuntuivat tulevan viereisest\xc3\xa4\r\npukeutumishuoneesta ja suuntautuvan pitkin k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 portaita kohti.\r\nKohta kun h\xc3\xa4n oli varma siit\xc3\xa4, her\xc3\xa4tti h\xc3\xa4n kunnianarvoisan herra\r\nBuntingin niin hiljaa kuin mahdollista. Pastori ei raapaissut tulta,\r\nvaan pani silm\xc3\xa4lasit nen\xc3\xa4lleen, veti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lleen rouvansa aamunutun, pisti\r\njalkaansa kylpytohvelit ja meni ulos portaiden siltamalle kuuntelemaan.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n erotti selv\xc3\xa4sti hapuilevia askeleita alhaalta ty\xc3\xb6huoneensa\r\nkirjoitusp\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luota ja sitten rajun aivastuksen.\r\n\r\nSilloin h\xc3\xa4n palasi makuuhuoneeseen, varustautui ensimm\xc3\xa4iseksi k\xc3\xa4siin\r\nosuvalla aseella, hiilihangolla, ja laskeutui alas portaita niin\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti kuin suinkin. Rouva Bunting tuli portaiden siltamalle.\r\n\r\nKello oli noin nelj\xc3\xa4, ja y\xc3\xb6n synkin pimeys oli jo haihtunut. Eteisess\xc3\xa4\r\nerotti v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n valonhohdetta, mutta ty\xc3\xb6huoneen oviaukko ammotti ihan\r\nmustana. Kaikki oli hiljaa; kuului ainoastaan heikkoa portaiden natinaa\r\nherra Buntingin askelten alla ja hiljaista liikett\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6huoneesta.\r\nSitten jokin napsahti, laatikko avattiin, ja papereita p\xc3\xb6yhittiin.\r\nSitten kuului sadattelua, tulitikulla raapimista ja ty\xc3\xb6huoneen t\xc3\xa4ytti\r\nkeltainen valo. Herra Bunting oli nyt k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja saattoi oven\r\nraosta n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 kirjoitusp\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja avonaisen laatikon ja p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\npalavan kynttil\xc3\xa4n. Mutta varasta h\xc3\xa4n ei voinut erottaa. H\xc3\xa4n seisoi\r\nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 tiet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 oikein, mihin oli ryhdytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4, ja rouva Bunting,\r\nkasvot valkeina ja j\xc3\xa4nnittynein\xc3\xa4, hiipi hitaasti alas portaita h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nj\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Yksi seikka piti herra Buntingin rohkeutta vireill\xc3\xa4: se\r\nvakaumus, ett\xc3\xa4 murtovaras oli joku kyl\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4inen.\r\n\r\nHe kuulivat rahan kilahduksen ja k\xc3\xa4sittiv\xc3\xa4t varkaan l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4neen j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4\r\nolevat talousvarat -- yhteens\xc3\xa4 kaksi puntaa ja kymmenen shillingi\xc3\xa4\r\npuolen punnan rahoina. Se \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni innosti herra Buntingi\xc3\xa4 ripe\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntoimintaan. Puristaen lujasti hiilihankoa h\xc3\xa4n sy\xc3\xb6ksyi huoneeseen, rouva\r\nBuntingin seuratessa kintereill\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Antautukaa!" huusi herra Bunting hurjasti ja pys\xc3\xa4htyi sitten\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4. Ilmeisesti huone oli tyhj\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nMutta sittenkin oli heid\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4sityksens\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 he olivat juuri tuolla\r\nhetkell\xc3\xa4 kuulleet jonkun liikkuvan huoneessa, muuttunut t\xc3\xa4ydeksi\r\nvarmuudeksi. Puolisen minuuttia he seisoivat siin\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en, sitten\r\nrouva Bunting astui huoneen poikki ja katsahti uuninvarjostimen\r\ntaakse, herra Buntingin tirkist\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n alle jonkin aavistuksen\r\nyllytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. Sitten rouva Bunting siirsi syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ikkunaverhot, ja herra\r\nBunting t\xc3\xa4hysti uuninsuusta savupiippuun ja sohi sinne hiilihangolla.\r\nSenj\xc3\xa4lkeen rouva Bunting tutki paperikorin, ja herra Bunting avasi\r\nhiilisangon. Viimein he seisoivat ja tuijottivat toisiinsa kysyvin\r\nsilmin.\r\n\r\n"Olisin voinut vannoa..." sanoi rouva Bunting.\r\n\r\n"Kynttil\xc3\xa4!" huomautti herra Bunting. "Kuka sytytti kynttil\xc3\xa4n?"\r\n\r\n"Laatikko!" virkkoi rouva Bunting. "Ja rahat ovat menneet!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n astui nopeasti avoimelle ovelle.\r\n\r\n"Kaikista ihmeellisist\xc3\xa4 tapauksista..."\r\n\r\nK\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 kuului taas raju aivastus. He rynt\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t ulos ja samalla\r\npaukahti keitti\xc3\xb6n ovi kiinni. "Tuoppa kynttil\xc3\xa4!" pyysi herra Bunting ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4hti edell\xc3\xa4. He kuulivat kumpikin, kuinka salvat nopeasti ty\xc3\xb6nnettiin\r\npaikoilleen.\r\n\r\nAvatessaan keitti\xc3\xb6n oven kappalainen n\xc3\xa4ki pesuhuoneen l\xc3\xa4pi, ett\xc3\xa4\r\ntakaovi juuri avautui, ja aamunkoiton heikko kajastus valaisi takana\r\nolevan puutarhan tummia varjoja. H\xc3\xa4n oli varma siit\xc3\xa4, ettei mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nmennyt ulos ovesta. Se avautui, oli hetken avoinna ja sulkeutui sitten\r\nl\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en. Samassa alkoi lepattaa rouva Buntingin ty\xc3\xb6huoneesta tuoma\r\nkynttil\xc3\xa4... Kesti minuutin tai pari, ennenkuin he astuivat keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n.\r\n\r\nSe oli tyhj\xc3\xa4. He panivat takaoven j\xc3\xa4lleen lukkoon, tutkivat keitti\xc3\xb6n,\r\nruokas\xc3\xa4ili\xc3\xb6n ja pesuhuoneen perinpohjin ja meniv\xc3\xa4t lopulta alas\r\nkellariin. Koko talosta ei voinut l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ainoatakaan sielua, vaikka\r\nkuinka olisi hakenut.\r\n\r\nP\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nvalo tapasi kappalaisen ja h\xc3\xa4nen vaimonsa kummallisesti puettuna\r\npikku parina yh\xc3\xa4 ihmettelem\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 samalla paikalla, koveroksi palaneen ja\r\nvaluvan kynttil\xc3\xa4n heikossa valaistuksessa.\r\n\r\n"Kaikista kummallisista jutuista", aloitti kappalainen\r\nkahdennenkymmenennen kerran.\r\n\r\n"Rakkaani", virkkoi rouva Bunting, "Susie tulee alas. Odotahan t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4,\r\nkunnes h\xc3\xa4n on mennyt keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n, ja pujahda sitten yl\xc3\xb6s portaita."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKUUDES LUKU\r\n\r\nHuonekalut hulluina\r\n\r\n\r\nSattuipa niin, ett\xc3\xa4 helluntaimaanantain varhaisina aamuhetkin\xc3\xa4,\r\nennenkuin Millie komennettiin p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xb6ihin, herra ja rouva Hall\r\nnousivat ja meniv\xc3\xa4t \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti alas kellariin. Heid\xc3\xa4n puuhansa\r\noli yksityisluontoista ja jonkinlaisessa yhteydess\xc3\xa4 heid\xc3\xa4n oluensa\r\nominaispainon kanssa.\r\n\r\nTuskin he olivat p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sseet kellariin, kun rouva Hall huomasi\r\nunohtaneensa tuoda alas pullon sarsaparillaa heid\xc3\xa4n yhteisest\xc3\xa4\r\nhuoneestaan. Koska h\xc3\xa4n oli t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n homman asiantuntija ja varsinainen\r\nsuorittaja, l\xc3\xa4hti Hall kiireesti hakemaan sit\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xa4kerrasta.\r\n\r\nPortaiden yl\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styi huomatessaan, ett\xc3\xa4 vieraan ovi oli\r\nraollaan. H\xc3\xa4n meni omaan huoneeseensa ja l\xc3\xb6ysi pullon sielt\xc3\xa4, mist\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nneuvottu sit\xc3\xa4 hakemaan.\r\n\r\nMutta palatessaan pullo mukanaan h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki, ett\xc3\xa4 ulko-oven salvat oli\r\nty\xc3\xb6nnetty takaisin -- ett\xc3\xa4 siis ovi todellakin oli vain s\xc3\xa4piss\xc3\xa4. Ja\r\nsamassa juolahti h\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oli jossakin yhteydess\xc3\xa4\r\nheid\xc3\xa4n oudon matkustajansa ja Teddy Henfreyn otaksuman kanssa. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nmuisti selv\xc3\xa4sti pit\xc3\xa4neens\xc3\xa4 kynttil\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 rouva Hallin pannessa nuo salvat\r\ny\xc3\xb6ksi kiinni. N\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n pys\xc3\xa4htyi t\xc3\xb6llistelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja l\xc3\xa4hti\r\nsitten j\xc3\xa4lleen yl\xc3\xb6s portaita, pullo yh\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n koputti vieraan\r\novelle. Ei kuulunut vastausta. H\xc3\xa4n koputti j\xc3\xa4lleen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n ty\xc3\xb6nsi\r\noven auki ja astui sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nAsian laita oli, niinkuin h\xc3\xa4n oli odottanutkin. Vuode ja huone olivat\r\ntyhj\xc3\xa4t. Ja viel\xc3\xa4 kummallisempaa h\xc3\xa4nenkin hitaalle \xc3\xa4lylleen oli se,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 makuuhuoneen tuolilla ja pitkin vuoteen reunaa olivat hajallaan\r\nvieraan vaatteet, ainoat vaatteet, mik\xc3\xa4li h\xc3\xa4n tiesi, ja my\xc3\xb6s siteet.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen suuri, riippuvareunainen hattunsakin p\xc3\xb6yhkeili keikarimaisesti\r\nvuoteenpylv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84llistyneen\xc3\xa4 seistess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Hall kuuli vaimonsa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen kellarin syvyydest\xc3\xa4.\r\nSiin\xc3\xa4 saattoi erottaa sen nopean tavujen nielaisemisen ja loppusanojen\r\nkimakan j\xc3\xa4nnityksen, jolla l\xc3\xa4nsisussexilainen on tottunut ilmaisemaan\r\nvilkasta k\xc3\xa4rsim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myytt\xc3\xa4. "George! L\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xb6, mit\xc3\xa4 tarvitsen?"\r\n\r\nSen kuullessaan Hall k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi ja kiirehti alas vaimonsa luo. "Janny",\r\nsanoi h\xc3\xa4n kellarin porraskaiteen yli, "se on totta, mit\xc3\xa4 Henfrey sanoo.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ei ole huoneessaan, ei totisesti. Ja ulko-ovesta on salvat vedetty\r\nsyrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\nAluksi rouva Hall ei ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4nyt, mutta heti kun h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4sitti, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti\r\nh\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4yd\xc3\xa4 itse tutkimassa tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 huonetta. Hall, joka yh\xc3\xa4 piteli\r\npulloa, meni edell\xc3\xa4. "Vaikkei h\xc3\xa4n ole siell\xc3\xa4", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "niin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen vaatteensa ovat j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neet, ja mit\xc3\xa4 ihmett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n sitten tekee ilman\r\nvaatteita? Se on kerrassaan kummallinen juttu."\r\n\r\nTullessaan yl\xc3\xb6s kellarin portaita he luulivat kumpikin, niinkuin\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in k\xc3\xa4vi selville, kuulleensa ulko-oven avautuvan ja\r\nsulkeutuvan, mutta n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 se oli kiinni ja ettei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ollut\r\neteisess\xc3\xa4, eiv\xc3\xa4t he silloin puhuneet siit\xc3\xa4 toisilleen. Rouva Hall\r\nsivuutti miehens\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja kiirehti ensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xa4kertaan. Joku\r\naivasti portailla. Hall, joka seurasi vaimoaan kuuden porrasaskeleen\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, luuli h\xc3\xa4nen aivastaneen. Rouva taas, joka oli edell\xc3\xa4, oli\r\nsaanut sen vaikutelman, ett\xc3\xa4 Hall oli aivastanut. H\xc3\xa4n ty\xc3\xb6nsi oven auki\r\nja seisoi tarkastellen huonetta. "No ei ihmeemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4!" siunaili h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kuuli niist\xc3\xa4mist\xc3\xa4 ihan takanaan, niinkuin h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 tuntui, ja\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styi huomatessaan Hallin kymmenen jalan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nitsest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ylemm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 portaalla. Mutta samassa oli Hall h\xc3\xa4nen vieress\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nRouva kumartui eteenp\xc3\xa4in ja laski k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 pielukselle ja tunnusteli\r\nsitten vuodevaatteita.\r\n\r\n"Kylmi\xc3\xa4", lausui h\xc3\xa4n. "H\xc3\xa4n on ollut poissa ainakin tunnin tai\r\nenemm\xc3\xa4nkin."\r\n\r\nMutta silloin tapahtui kerrassaan ihmeellinen seikka. Vuodevaatteet\r\nvet\xc3\xa4ytyiv\xc3\xa4t kokoon, hyp\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 jonkinlaiseksi huipuksi ja\r\nloikkasivat p\xc3\xa4istikkaa jalkop\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n reunan yli. N\xc3\xa4ytti aivan silt\xc3\xa4 kuin\r\nolisi k\xc3\xa4si tarttunut niihin keskelt\xc3\xa4 ja sitten lenn\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt ne syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nHeti senj\xc3\xa4lkeen hyp\xc3\xa4hti vieraan hattu vuoteenpylv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, teki ilmassa\r\nrunsaan puoliympyr\xc3\xa4n kaaren ja iski sitten suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 rouva Hallin\r\nkasvoihin. Yht\xc3\xa4 nopeasti lensi sieni pesutelineelt\xc3\xa4; sitten tuoli,\r\nviskaten matkustajan takin ja housut t\xc3\xb6yke\xc3\xa4sti syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja nauraen\r\nkuivasti ja ihan samalla lailla kuin vieraskin, kaatui kumoon niin,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 kaikki nelj\xc3\xa4 jalkaa suuntautuivat rouva Halliin p\xc3\xa4in, n\xc3\xa4ytti\r\nhetkisen t\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n ja sitten hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti. H\xc3\xa4n huudahti ja\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi. Silloin tuolin jalat painuivat hiljaa, mutta lujasti h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nselk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja pakottivat h\xc3\xa4net ja Hallin ulos huoneesta. Ovi paukahti\r\nkovasti ja sulkeutui. Tuoli ja vuode n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t hetkisen suorittavan\r\njonkinlaista riemutanssia, ja sitten \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 kaikki oli taas hiljaa.\r\n\r\nRouva Hall vaipui melkein py\xc3\xb6rtyneen\xc3\xa4 miehens\xc3\xa4 syliin portaitten\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Vain suurella vaivalla onnistui herra Hallin ja Millien, joka\r\noli her\xc3\xa4nnyt em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4huutoon, saada h\xc3\xa4net alakertaan, ja sitten\r\nk\xc3\xa4ytettiin sellaisissa kohtauksissa tavallisia vahvistusaineita.\r\n\r\n"Ne olivat kummituksia", sanoi rouva Hall. "Min\xc3\xa4 tied\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 ne olivat\r\nkummituksia. Min\xc3\xa4 olen lukenut niist\xc3\xa4 sanomalehdiss\xc3\xa4. Kun p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4t ja\r\ntuolit hyppelev\xc3\xa4t ja tanssivat..."\r\n\r\n"Otappas tilkka viel\xc3\xa4, Janny", kehoitti Hall, "se vahvistaa sinua".\r\n\r\n"Sulkekaa silt\xc3\xa4 ovi", sanoi rouva Hall. "\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 antako sen en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tulla\r\nsis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Min\xc3\xa4 melkein arvasin... Minun olisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Tuollaiset\r\nmulkoilevat silm\xc3\xa4lasit ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 siteiss\xc3\xa4, eik\xc3\xa4 koskaan mene kirkkoon\r\npyh\xc3\xa4isin. Ja kaikki nuo pullot -- enemm\xc3\xa4n kuin on lupa kell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\npit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n on pannut kummituksia huonekaluihin. Minun vanhat kelpo\r\nhuonekaluni! Juuri tuossa samassa tuolissa oli rakkaan kelpo \xc3\xa4itini\r\ntapa istua, kun min\xc3\xa4 olin pikku tytt\xc3\xb6. Kun ajattelee, ett\xc3\xa4 se nyt nousi\r\nminua vastaan..."\r\n\r\n"Vain tilkka lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, Janny", sanoi Hall. "Hermosi ovat j\xc3\xa4rkkyneet."\r\n\r\nHe l\xc3\xa4hettiv\xc3\xa4t Millien kultaisessa auringonpaisteessa kello viiden\r\naikaan tien toiselle puolelle her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Sandy Wadgersia,\r\nhevosenkengitt\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nHallin terveiset h\xc3\xa4nelle, ja ett\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xa4kerran huonekalut k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytyiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nper\xc3\xa4ti omituisesti. Tulisiko herra Wadgers t\xc3\xa4lle puolelle?\r\n\r\nWadgers oli taitava mies ja hyvin kekseli\xc3\xa4s. H\xc3\xa4n tuumi asiaa heti\r\nvakavasti. "Lempo minut viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n, jollei tuo noituus lopu", oli Sandy\r\nWadgersin mielipide. "Eih\xc3\xa4n vain tarvita hevosenkenki\xc3\xa4 mokomalle\r\nherrasmiehelle?"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tuli Hallin puolelle hyvin huolestuneena. He tahtoivat opastaa\r\nh\xc3\xa4net yl\xc3\xa4kerrassa olevaan huoneeseen, mutta h\xc3\xa4n ei n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt\r\nkiirehtiv\xc3\xa4n. Mieluummin h\xc3\xa4n puheli k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Tien toisella puolen\r\ntuli Huxterin oppipoika n\xc3\xa4kyviin ja alkoi ottaa alas tupakkaikkunan\r\nluukkuja. H\xc3\xa4net kutsuttiin t\xc3\xa4nne ottamaan osaa keskusteluun.\r\nHerra Huxterkin saapui samaa tiet\xc3\xa4 muutamien minuuttien kuluttua.\r\nAnglosaksilainen taipumus parlamenttaariseen hallitusmuotoon tuli\r\nt\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4kin esille: puheltiin pitk\xc3\xa4lti, mutta ei ryhdytty mihink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nratkaisevaan toimenpiteeseen.\r\n\r\n"Ottakaamme ensinn\xc3\xa4 selv\xc3\xa4 asianhaaroista", toisti Wadgers tavantakaa.\r\n"Koettakaamme p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 varmuuteen siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 menettelemme ihan oikein\r\nmurtaessamme auki tuon oven. Ovi, jota ei ole murrettu auki, voidaan\r\naina murtaa auki, mutta kerran auki murrettua ovea ei voi tehd\xc3\xa4\r\navaamattomaksi."\r\n\r\nSilloin avautui yl\xc3\xa4kerran huoneen ovi omasta aloitteestaan \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nperin ihmeellisesti. Katsahtaessaan h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynein\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in, he n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nmatkustajan verhotun olennon astelevan portaita alas ja tuijottavan\r\nj\xc3\xa4rjett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n suurilla silm\xc3\xa4laseillaan synkemmin ja kaameammin kuin\r\nkonsanaan. H\xc3\xa4n tuli alas j\xc3\xa4yk\xc3\xa4sti ja hitaasti, tuijottaen kaiken aikaa\r\nsuurin silmin. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n kulki k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n poikki, tuijotti yh\xc3\xa4 ja\r\npys\xc3\xa4htyi.\r\n\r\n"Katsokaahan!" virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, ja heid\xc3\xa4n silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 seurasivat h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nhansikkaalla peitetyn sormensa suuntaa ja n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t sarsaparillapullon\r\nlikell\xc3\xa4 kellarin ovea. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n meni vierashuoneeseen ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\npaukahdutti oven kiinni: heid\xc3\xa4n edess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, nopeasti ja sisukkaasti.\r\n\r\nToiset eiv\xc3\xa4t puhuneet sanaakaan, ennenkuin paukahduksen viimeinenkin\r\nkaiku oli h\xc3\xa4ipynyt. He tuijottivat toisiinsa.\r\n\r\n"Jaa, jollei tuo nielaise kaikkea!" sanoi Huxter ja j\xc3\xa4tti seurauksen\r\nmainitsematta.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 menen sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja tiukkaan h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 asiaa", virkkoi Wadgers\r\nHallille. "Min\xc3\xa4 vaadin selityst\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nKesti jonkun aikaa, ennenkuin is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 saatiin rohkaisemaan itsens\xc3\xa4.\r\nVihdoin h\xc3\xa4n koputti, avasi oven eik\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt pitemm\xc3\xa4lle kuin:\r\n\r\n"Suokaa anteeksi..."\r\n\r\n"Menk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 helvettiin!" huusi vieras jyrisev\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ja lis\xc3\xa4si:\r\n"Sulkekaa ovi j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4nne."\r\n\r\nSiihen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyi t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 lyhyt haastattelu.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSEITSEM\xc3\x84S LUKU\r\n\r\nVieraan paljastuminen\r\n\r\n\r\nVieras meni "Vaunujen ja Hevosten" pieneen vierashuoneeseen noin\r\npuolikuuden ajoissa aamulla ja viipyi siell\xc3\xa4 melkein keskip\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nasti, ikkunankaihtimet alas laskettuina, ovi suljettuna, kenenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nuskaltamatta l\xc3\xa4hesty\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 Hallin ep\xc3\xa4onnistuneen yrityksen j\xc3\xa4lkeen.\r\n\r\nKoko t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 aika oli h\xc3\xa4nen t\xc3\xa4ytynyt paastota. Kolme kertaa h\xc3\xa4n soitti\r\nkelloa, kolmannella kerralla raivoisasti ja pitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mutta ei kukaan\r\nvastannut h\xc3\xa4nelle. "H\xc3\xa4n ja h\xc3\xa4nen \'menk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 helvettiin\', en muutakaan\r\nsano", puuskui rouva Hall.\r\n\r\nPian saapui varmistumaton huhu pappilaan tehdyst\xc3\xa4 murtovarkaudesta, ja\r\nsilloin yhdistettiin erin\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 seikkoja kesken\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Hall l\xc3\xa4hti Wadgersin\r\nseuraamana pormestarin, herra Shuckleforthin, luo kysym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n neuvoa.\r\nEi kukaan uskaltanut menn\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xa4kertaan. Ei voinut tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 vieras\r\npuuhaili. Silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in h\xc3\xa4n asteli kovaa vauhtia edestakaisin, pari\r\nkertaa kuului kiroustulva, paperin repimist\xc3\xa4 ja helisev\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pullojen\r\ns\xc3\xa4rkymist\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nPieni ryhm\xc3\xa4 pel\xc3\xa4styneit\xc3\xa4, mutta uteliaita ihmisi\xc3\xa4 paisui yh\xc3\xa4. Rouva\r\nHuxter tuli tien toiselta puolelta; muutamia iloisia nuorukaisia, jotka\r\nloistivat mustissa, valmiina ostetuissa takeissa ja paperiruusuke\r\nkaulassa -- sill\xc3\xa4 olihan nyt helluntaimaanantai -- liittyi joukkoon,\r\ntehden sekavia ja sekoittavia kysymyksi\xc3\xa4. Nuori Archie Harker erosi\r\nmuista marssimalla pihan poikki ja koettamalla kurkistaa sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nkaihtimien alta. H\xc3\xa4n ei voinut n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mutta uskotteli n\xc3\xa4kev\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4,\r\nja muita Ipingin nuorukaisia yhtyi heti h\xc3\xa4neen.\r\n\r\nSilloin oli kaunein helluntaimaanantai mit\xc3\xa4 kuvitella voi, ja pitkin\r\nraittia oli riviss\xc3\xa4 ainakin kymmenkunta telttaa, olipa ampumaratakin,\r\nja pajan vieress\xc3\xa4 ruohikolla oli kolme keltaisen ja ruskean v\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xa4\r\nvaunua ynn\xc3\xa4 muutamia koreankirjavia muukalaisia kumpaakin sukupuolta,\r\njotka pystyttiv\xc3\xa4t kookosp\xc3\xa4hkin\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xa4 kaihdinta. Herroilla oli\r\nsiniset villanutut, naisilla valkeat esiliinat ja hyvin muodinmukaiset\r\nhatut, joissa oli raskaat sulat. Woodyer "Punaisesta Kilist\xc3\xa4"\r\nja suutari Jaggers, joka my\xc3\xb6skin m\xc3\xb6i toisen luokan polkupy\xc3\xb6ri\xc3\xa4,\r\npingoittivat tien poikki nuoraa, johon oli kiinnitetty lippuja ja\r\nkuninkaallisia kunniamerkkej\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 oli alkujaan k\xc3\xa4ytetty ensimm\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4\r\nVictoria-kuningattaren riemujuhlaa vietett\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSis\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 vierashuoneen keinotekoisessa h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, johon tunkeutui\r\nainoastaan heikko auringon kajastus, tuijotti merkillinen matkustaja\r\nn\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4, niinkuin meid\xc3\xa4n on otaksuttava, ja peloissaan ep\xc3\xa4mukaviin\r\nkuumiin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reisiins\xc3\xa4 verhottuna tummien silm\xc3\xa4lasiensa l\xc3\xa4pi paperiinsa\r\ntai kilisteli likaisia pieni\xc3\xa4 pullojaan ja v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4 kiroili kovasti\r\npojille, joiden h\xc3\xa4n kuuli olevan ikkunan takana, vaikka ei\r\nsaattanutkaan heit\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4. Takan viereisess\xc3\xa4 nurkassa oli puolen\r\ntusinan s\xc3\xa4rkyneen pullon kappaleita, ja pist\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kloorinhaju turmeli\r\nilman. Sen verran me tied\xc3\xa4mme siit\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 silloin kuultiin ja mit\xc3\xa4\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in n\xc3\xa4htiin huoneessa.\r\n\r\nPuolenp\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n tienoissa h\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 avasi vierashuoneen oven ja j\xc3\xa4i\r\nseisomaan ja tuijottamaan ravintolahuoneessa istuviin kolmeen tai\r\nnelj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n henkil\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n. "Rouva Hall", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. Joku l\xc3\xa4hti k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6sti\r\nkutsumaan rouva Hallia.\r\n\r\nRouva Hall ilmestyi jonkun ajan kuluttua v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n heng\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4,\r\nmutta sit\xc3\xa4 kiukkuisempana. Hall pysyi yh\xc3\xa4 ulkona. Rouva Hall oli\r\nharkinnut t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kohtausta ja tuli k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pieni tarjotin, jolla oli\r\nsuorittamaton lasku. "Laskuanne kai haluatte, herra?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Miksi ei ole tuotu aamiaistani? Miksi ette ole valmistanut aterioitani\r\nja tullut, kun olen soittanut? Luuletteko minun el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n sy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Miksi ette ole maksanut laskuani?" kysyi rouva Hall. "Sen min\xc3\xa4\r\ntahtoisin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Sanoinhan teille kolme p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sitten, ett\xc3\xa4 odotin rahal\xc3\xa4hetyst\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Sanoin teille kolme p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sitten, etten min\xc3\xa4 aikonut odottaa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nrahal\xc3\xa4hetyksi\xc3\xa4. Te ette saa moittia sit\xc3\xa4, jos aamiaisenne v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmy\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4styykin, kun minunkin laskuni ovat saaneet odottaa viisi p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nvai mit\xc3\xa4 arvelette?"\r\n\r\nVieras kirosi lyhyesti, mutta pontevasti.\r\n\r\nRavintolap\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luota kuului: "No, no!"\r\n\r\n"Tekisitte yst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4llisesti, herra, jos s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4isitte kiroukset\r\nitsellenne", huomautti rouva Hall.\r\n\r\nVieras n\xc3\xa4ytti siin\xc3\xa4 seisoessaan entist\xc3\xa4 vihaisemmalta sukeltajan\r\nnaamarilta. Yhteinen mielipide vakiintui ravintolahuoneessa siihen\r\nsuuntaan, ett\xc3\xa4 rouva Hall nyt oli voiton puolella. Vieraan seuraavat\r\nsanatkin osoittivat samaa.\r\n\r\n"Kuulkaahan, kunnon vaimo..." aloitti h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sanoko \'kunnon vaimoksi\' _minua"_, vastasi rouva Hall.\r\n\r\n"Olenhan maininnut teille, etten ole saanut odottamaani rahal\xc3\xa4hetyst\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Rahal\xc3\xa4hetyst\xc3\xa4, juuri niin!" sanoi rouva Hall.\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuitenkin luulen taskussani olevan..."\r\n\r\n"Sanoitte minulle kolme p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sitten, ettei teill\xc3\xa4 ollut muuta kuin\r\npunnan verran hopeaa."\r\n\r\n"Niin, mutta olen l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ohoh!" kuului tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luota.\r\n\r\n"Olisipa hauska tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mist\xc3\xa4 olette rahaa l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt!" huomautti rouva\r\nHall.\r\n\r\nSe n\xc3\xa4ytti kovasti kiusaavan vierasta. H\xc3\xa4n polki jalkaansa. "Mit\xc3\xa4\r\ntarkoitatte?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Sit\xc3\xa4 vain, ett\xc3\xa4 olisi hauska tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mist\xc3\xa4 olette l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt", toisti\r\nrouva Hall. "Ja ennenkuin otan vastaan suoritusta laskusta tai tuon\r\naamiaista tai teen mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muutakaan, on teid\xc3\xa4n selitett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 minulle\r\npari seikkaa, joita en ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4, ja joita ei kukaan ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4, ja jotka\r\njokainen kovasti haluaisi ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Haluaisin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 olette\r\ntehnyt tuolilleni yl\xc3\xa4kerrassa, ja haluaisin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mist\xc3\xa4 johtuu,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 huoneenne oli tyhj\xc3\xa4, ja kuinka p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sitte taas sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Kaikki\r\nt\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 talossa asuvat tulevat sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ovista, se on oikein s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xb6 t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\ntalossa, mutta niin te _ette_ tehnyt, ja nyt min\xc3\xa4 tahtoisin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\n_kuinka_ te tulitte. Ja haluaisin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 vieras kohotti hansikkailla verhotut k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 nyrkkiin\r\npuserrettuina, polki jalkaansa ja sanoi: "Vaietkaa!" niin tavattoman\r\nkiivaasti, ett\xc3\xa4 rouva Hall paikalla katkaisi sanatulvansa.\r\n\r\n"Ette ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4", huusi vieras, "kuka min\xc3\xa4 olen tai mit\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 olen.\r\nMin\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4n teille. Jumaliste, min\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4n teille!" Sitten h\xc3\xa4n painoi\r\nk\xc3\xa4mmenens\xc3\xa4 kasvoilleen ja veti sen takaisin. H\xc3\xa4nen kasvojensa keskiosa\r\nmuuttui tyhj\xc3\xa4ksi onteloksi. "Katsokaa", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n astui l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi\r\nja ojensi rouva Hallille jotakin, mink\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 otti koneellisesti vastaan\r\ntuijottaen h\xc3\xa4nen muuttuneisiin kasvoihinsa, mutta kiljaisi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\nhuomatessaan, mit\xc3\xa4 se oli, pudotti ja horjahti taaksep\xc3\xa4in. Nen\xc3\xa4 -- se\r\noli vieraan nen\xc3\xa4, ihonv\xc3\xa4rinen ja kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4! -- vieri lattialle, saaden\r\naikaan samanlaisen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen kuin irtonainen pahvikappale.\r\n\r\nSitten mies tempaisi silm\xc3\xa4lasit irti, ja jokainen ravintolahuoneessa\r\noleva alkoi l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n otti hatun p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja voimakkaalla\r\nsivalluksella rep\xc3\xa4isi irti viiksens\xc3\xa4 ja siteens\xc3\xa4. Jonkun aikaa he\r\nkestiv\xc3\xa4t t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4. Mutta vihdoin kohahti tarjoiluhuoneen l\xc3\xa4pi kamala\r\naavistus. "Hyv\xc3\xa4 Jumala!" huudahti joku, ja kaikki per\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyiv\xc3\xa4t.\r\n\r\nSe oli ilkeint\xc3\xa4 kaikesta. Rouva, joka seisoi kauhistuneena suu auki\r\nkirkaisi kamalan n\xc3\xa4yn edess\xc3\xa4 ja juoksi ovelle. Kaikki alkoivat\r\nliikehti\xc3\xa4. He olivat valmistautuneet n\xc3\xa4kem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n arpia, ep\xc3\xa4muodostumia,\r\nhirveit\xc3\xa4 kauhunkuvia -- mutta ei tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4! Siteet ja tekotukka lenteliv\xc3\xa4t\r\nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n poikki tarjoiluhuoneeseen, pakottaen er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n poikaviikarin\r\nhyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sit\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen. Ihmiset kompastuivat toinen\r\ntoiseensa rynn\xc3\xa4tess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n alas portaita. Sill\xc3\xa4 mies, joka seisoi siin\xc3\xa4\r\nhuutaen joitakin hajanaisia selityksi\xc3\xa4, oli tukeva, huitova vartalo\r\ntakinkaulukseen asti, mutta sen yl\xc3\xa4puolella -- tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4!\r\n\r\nKyl\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kuulivat ihmiset huutoja ja kiljumista, ja katsahtaessaan\r\ntiet\xc3\xa4 pitkin he n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t "Vaunuista ja Hevosista" purkautuvan v\xc3\xa4ke\xc3\xa4\r\nhurjaa vauhtia. He huomasivat rouva Hallin kaatuvan ja Teddy Henfreyn\r\nhyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lleen astumista. Sitten he erottivat\r\nMillien pel\xc3\xa4styneet huudot, kun h\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ilmestyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n keitti\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4,\r\nkuultuaan tarjoiluhuoneesta meteli\xc3\xa4, oli takaap\xc3\xa4in t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4nnyt p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nmieheen. Ne lakkasivat kuitenkin heti.\r\n\r\nKaikki maantiell\xc3\xa4 olevat -- makeiskauppias, kookosp\xc3\xa4hkin\xc3\xa4kaihtimen\r\npystytt\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4 ja h\xc3\xa4nen apulaisensa, kiikun omistaja, pienet tyt\xc3\xb6t ja\r\npojat, maalaiskeikarit, pirte\xc3\xa4t piiat, puseroihin puetut vanhemmat\r\nnaiset ja mustalaisvaimot esiliinat edess\xc3\xa4 -- l\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t heti\r\njuoksujalassa majataloon p\xc3\xa4in, ja ihmeellisen lyhyess\xc3\xa4 ajassa py\xc3\xb6ri\r\nedestakaisin, kiljui ja kyseli, selitti ja pauhasi rouva Hallin\r\nhuoneiston ulkopuolella ehk\xc3\xa4 nelikymmenhenkinen joukko, joka kasvoi\r\nnopeasti. Jokainen n\xc3\xa4ytti halukkaalta puhumaan heti paikalla, ja\r\ntuloksena oli Baabelin sekamelska. Muutamat tukivat rouva Hallia,\r\njoka oli nostettu maasta py\xc3\xb6rtyneen\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4mminki oli tavaton, ja\r\nsilminn\xc3\xa4kij\xc3\xa4t huusivat vimmatusti uskomattomia todistuksiaan. "Uh, sit\xc3\xa4\r\nm\xc3\xb6rk\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4!" "Mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n sitten on tehnyt?" "Onko h\xc3\xa4n ly\xc3\xb6nyt tytt\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4, onko?"\r\n"Luullakseni h\xc3\xa4n hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si veitsi k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4 tyt\xc3\xb6n kimppuun." "Ei p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sen sanon. En k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuvakielt\xc3\xa4. Tarkoitan miest\xc3\xa4,\r\njolla ei ole p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4." "Mit\xc3\xa4 loruja! Se on joku taikatemppu." "H\xc3\xa4n heitti\r\npois verhonsa, h\xc3\xa4n..."\r\n\r\nTunkeillessaan l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi, voidakseen n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 avoimesta ovesta sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nv\xc3\xa4kijoukko painautui hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi kiilaksi, jonka rohkein k\xc3\xa4rki oli\r\nl\xc3\xa4hinn\xc3\xa4 majataloa. "H\xc3\xa4n seisoi hetken paikallaan, min\xc3\xa4 kuulin piian\r\nhuutavan, ja silloin se kummitus k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi. Min\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in tyt\xc3\xb6n helmojen\r\nvilahtavan, ja mies l\xc3\xa4hti h\xc3\xa4nen per\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ei kest\xc3\xa4nyt kymment\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsekuntia. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n tulee takaisin veitsi k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja leip\xc3\xa4, seisoi\r\naivan kuin tuijottaen. Siit\xc3\xa4 on vain tuokio. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n meni sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntuosta ovesta. Sanon teille, ettei h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ole ollenkaan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nkatosi ihan \xc3\xa4sken..."\r\n\r\nTakana oli jotakin h\xc3\xa4iri\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4, ja puhuja vaikeni astuakseen syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\npienen kulkueen tielt\xc3\xa4, joka marssi hyvin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti taloon p\xc3\xa4in.\r\nEnsimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 astui Hall, hyvin punaisena ja tuiman n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4, sitten\r\nBobby Jaffers, kyl\xc3\xa4n poliisi, ja per\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 varovainen Wadgers. Heill\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nnyt mukanaan vangitsemisk\xc3\xa4sky.\r\n\r\nIhmiset huusivat ristiriitaisia selityksi\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4skeisist\xc3\xa4 tapauksista. "P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntai ei", sanoi Jaffers. "Olen saanut teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4kseni vangita h\xc3\xa4net, ja\r\nkyll\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 vangitsenkin."\r\n\r\nHall nousi portaita yl\xc3\xb6s, meni suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 vierashuoneen ovelle\r\nja huomasi sen olevan auki. "Konstaapeli", lausui h\xc3\xa4n, "tehk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nvelvollisuutenne".\r\n\r\nJaffers astui sis\xc3\xa4lle, h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Hall ja viimeisen\xc3\xa4 Wadgers.\r\nH\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 valaistuksessa he n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t edess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n vartalon, jolla\r\noli toisessa hansikkaaseen pistetyss\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n jyrsitty leiv\xc3\xa4nsyrj\xc3\xa4 ja\r\ntoisessa juustonpala.\r\n\r\n"Tuossa h\xc3\xa4n on", sanoi Hall.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 pirua t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on?" kuului vihainen kysymys oudon olennon kauluksen\r\nyl\xc3\xa4puolelta.\r\n\r\n"Te olette hiton kummallinen, herra", vastasi Jaffers, "mutta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntai ei, vangitsemisk\xc3\xa4skyss\xc3\xa4 sanotaan \'mies\', ja velvollisuus on\r\nvelvollisuus..."\r\n\r\n"Pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 loitolla", \xc3\xa4rj\xc3\xa4isi olento, samalla kun se vet\xc3\xa4ytyi taaksep\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n sinkautti leiv\xc3\xa4n ja juuston lattialle, ja Hall tarttui\r\np\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 lojuvaan veitseen, saaden ihan viime tingassa sen haltuunsa.\r\nIrti lensi vieraan vasen hansikas ja l\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti vasten Jaffersin kasvoja.\r\nSamassa Jaffers, joka ei halunnut ryhty\xc3\xa4 pitemm\xc3\xa4lti selittelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nvangitsemisk\xc3\xa4sky\xc3\xa4, oli tarttunut h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4dett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ranteeseensa ja\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kurkkuunsa. H\xc3\xa4n sai s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4riluuhunsa jym\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n potkaisun,\r\njoka pani h\xc3\xa4net huutamaan, mutta otettaan h\xc3\xa4n ei hellitt\xc3\xa4nyt. Hall\r\nl\xc3\xa4hetti veitsen liukumaan p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 my\xc3\xb6ten Wadgersille, joka toimi\r\nniin sanoaksemme rynn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6n maalivahtina, ja astui sitten l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi\r\nJaffersin ja vieraan hoippuessa ja horjahdellessa h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti, kiinni\r\ntakertuneina ja ly\xc3\xb6den toisiaan. Tiell\xc3\xa4 oli tuoli, joka lensi syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\njys\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en heid\xc3\xa4n kaatuessaan yhdess\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Tarttukaa jalkoihin", huusi Jaffers hampaittensa v\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nHall, joka koetti toimia ohjeen mukaan, sai kylkiluihinsa kovan\r\npotkaisun, joka hetkiseksi teki h\xc3\xa4net kyvytt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi. N\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n muukalaisen oli Wadgers kaatunut ja lent\xc3\xa4nyt Jaffersin yli,\r\nvet\xc3\xa4ytynyt ovelle veitsi k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4; ja niin t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4nnyt yhteen Huxterin ja\r\nSidderbridgen ajajan kanssa, jotka tulivat lain ja j\xc3\xa4rjestyksen avuksi.\r\nSamassa putosi kolme nelj\xc3\xa4 pulloa alas lipastolta ja levitti huoneen\r\nilmaan kirpe\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 hajua.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 antaudun!" huusi vieras, vaikka h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 olikin Jaffers allaan,\r\nja samassa h\xc3\xa4n oli pystyss\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en, omituinen ilmi\xc3\xb6, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n ja\r\nk\xc3\xa4det\xc3\xb6n, -- sill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli nyt riisunut oikeankin k\xc3\xa4den hansikkaan\r\nsamoin kuin vasemman. "Ei se kannata", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n kuin haukkoen ilmaa.\r\n\r\nLuonnottoman omituista oli kuulla t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen tulevan kuin tyhj\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4,\r\nmutta sussexil\xc3\xa4iset talonpojat ovat ehk\xc3\xa4 arkip\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4isimpi\xc3\xa4 ihmisi\xc3\xa4\r\nauringon alla. Jafferskin nousi pystyyn ja otti esille parin\r\nk\xc3\xa4sirautoja. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4i tuijottamaan.\r\n\r\n"Jopa nyt jotakin!" sanoi Jaffers, h\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 tietoisuudesta,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 koko asia oli mahdoton. "Lempo viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n!\' Min\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti en\r\nvoikaan panna n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 paikoilleen."\r\n\r\nVieras sujautti k\xc3\xa4sivartensa pitkin liivej\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja kuin ihmeen\r\nvaikutuksesta avautuivat ne napit, joihin h\xc3\xa4nen tyhj\xc3\xa4 hihansa osoitti.\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n mainitsi jotakin s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja kumartui. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti\r\nhapuilevan kenki\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja sukkiaan.\r\n\r\n"Kas vain!" sanoi Huxter \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, "eih\xc3\xa4n siin\xc3\xa4 olekaan miest\xc3\xa4.\r\nNeh\xc3\xa4n ovat vain tyhj\xc3\xa4t vaatteet. Katsokaahan! Voitte n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 alas\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kauluksestaan ja h\xc3\xa4nen vaatteittensa sis\xc3\xa4lle. Voisin pist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivarteni..."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ojensi k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4. Se n\xc3\xa4ytti koskettavan ilmassa johonkin, ja h\xc3\xa4n\r\nveti sen takaisin kime\xc3\xa4sti huudahtaen. "Pit\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 sormenne poissa\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4ni", kajahti ilmassa hurjan raivostunut \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni. "Tosiasia on,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 olen t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kokonaisena -- p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4det, jalat ja kaikki muu, mutta\r\nsatun olemaan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Se on kirottu kiusa, mutta sellainen min\xc3\xa4\r\nolen. Eih\xc3\xa4n se tee mitenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n luvalliseksi, ett\xc3\xa4 mik\xc3\xa4 tyhm\xc3\xa4 ipingil\xc3\xa4inen\r\ntolvana tahansa saisi kaivella minut kappaleiksi, vai mit\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\nVaatteet, joista kaikista nyt oli napit avattu ja jotka riippuivat\r\nirrallaan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n tukensa varassa, seisoivat pystyss\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4det\r\npuuskassa.\r\n\r\nMuutamia muitakin miehi\xc3\xa4 oli nyt tullut huoneeseen, joten se oli\r\nhyvin t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4. "N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n, mit\xc3\xa4?" sanoi Huxter v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 vieraan\r\nparjauksesta. "Kuka on milloinkaan kuullut sellaista?"\r\n\r\n"Se on ehk\xc3\xa4 omituista, mutta rikos se ei ole. Miksi poliisi n\xc3\xa4in k\xc3\xa4y\r\nkimppuuni..."\r\n\r\n"Oho, se on eri asia", sanoi Jaffers. "Ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 on teit\xc3\xa4\r\njonkun verran vaikea n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 valaistuksessa, mutta min\xc3\xa4 sain\r\nvangitsemisk\xc3\xa4skyn, ja se ainakin pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 paikkansa. Se, mik\xc3\xa4 minut on\r\npannut liikkeelle, ei ole n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys, vaan murtovarkaus. Er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen\r\ntaloon on murtauduttu ja viety sielt\xc3\xa4 rahaa."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 sitten?"\r\n\r\n"Ja asianhaarat osoittavat selv\xc3\xa4sti..."\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xb6lynp\xc3\xb6ly\xc3\xa4", sanoi n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n mies.\r\n\r\n"Toivottavasti, herra. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 olen saanut m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4yksen..."\r\n\r\n"No niin", sanoi vieras, "min\xc3\xa4 tulen. Min\xc3\xa4 _tulen_. Mutta ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nk\xc3\xa4sirautoja."\r\n\r\n"Ne pannaan tavallisesti", huomautti Jaffers.\r\n\r\n"Ei k\xc3\xa4sirautoja", m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4si vieras.\r\n\r\n"Suokaa anteeksi", pyysi Jaffers.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n olento istuutui, ja ennenkuin kukaan enn\xc3\xa4tti k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 oli tekeill\xc3\xa4, oli tohvelit, sukat ja housut potkaistu p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n alle.\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n taas hyp\xc3\xa4hti yl\xc3\xb6s ja lenn\xc3\xa4tti takkinsa pois.\r\n\r\n"Lakatkaa tuosta", sanoi Jaffers k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4en, mist\xc3\xa4 oli puhe. H\xc3\xa4n tarttui\r\nliiveihin, jotka rimpuilivat vastaan. Paita pujahti ulos niist\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nj\xc3\xa4tti ne velttoina ja tyhjin\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4. "Pit\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kiinni h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4!"\r\nhuusi Jaffers kovalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4. "Jos h\xc3\xa4n vain saa vaatteet p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n..."\r\n\r\n"Pit\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kiinni h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4!" huusi jokainen, ja kaikki hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t k\xc3\xa4siksi\r\nliehuvaan valkeaan paitaan, joka oli nyt ainoa n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4 osa vieraasta.\r\n\r\nPaidan hiha l\xc3\xa4im\xc3\xa4ytti Hallin kasvoihin tarkasti t\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4tyn iskun, joka\r\nesti h\xc3\xa4net jatkamasta l\xc3\xa4hestymist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4sivarret lev\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja paiskasi\r\nh\xc3\xa4net taaksep\xc3\xa4in suntion, vanhan Toothsomen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle. Samassa tuo\r\nvaatekappale kohosi ja alkoi heilua ja riippua irtonaisena k\xc3\xa4sivarsista\r\naivan kuin miehen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yli heitetty paita. Jaffers tarttui siihen,\r\nmutta auttoi vain siten sen pois vet\xc3\xa4mist\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n sai ilmasta iskun\r\nvasten suutaan, kohotti raivoissaan lyhyen keppins\xc3\xa4 ja loi Teddy\r\nHenfreyt\xc3\xa4 vimmatusti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4laelle.\r\n\r\n"Olkaa varuillanne!" huusi jokainen, asettuen umpim\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\npuolustusasentoon saamatta kuitenkaan mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4siins\xc3\xa4. "Tarttukaa\r\nkiinni h\xc3\xa4neen! Sulkekaa ovi! \xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 antako h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pakoon. Nyt\r\nkosketin johonkin. T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on!" T\xc3\xa4ydellinen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nten sekamelska\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si vallalle. N\xc3\xa4ytti silt\xc3\xa4 kun jokainen olisi saanut \xc3\xa4kkiarvaamatta\r\niskun. Sandy Wadgers, harkitsevana niinkuin aina ja \xc3\xa4ly nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n osuneen\r\nkovan iskun kirkastamana, avasi taas oven ja astui ulos ensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4\r\nmeluavasta joukosta. Toiset, jotka seurasivat hillitt\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4, ahtautuivat\r\nhetkiseksi oviaukon luona nurkkaan. Iskuja sateli yh\xc3\xa4. Unitaarilahkoon\r\nkuuluvalta Phippsilt\xc3\xa4 taittui etuhammas, ja Henfrey sai korvarustoonsa\r\nvamman. Jaffersi\xc3\xa4 iskettiin leuan alle, ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n kosketti\r\njohonkin, mik\xc3\xa4 ahdingossa oli tunkeutunut h\xc3\xa4nen ja Huxterin v\xc3\xa4liin\r\nja esti heit\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sem\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 toistensa viereen. H\xc3\xa4n tunsi lihaksisen\r\nrintakeh\xc3\xa4n, ja seuraavalla hetkell\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6ksyi kokonainen lauma\r\nrimpuilevia, kiihtyneit\xc3\xa4 miehi\xc3\xa4 eteiseen, joka oli t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4ke\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Nyt min\xc3\xa4 sain sen kiinni!" huusi Jaffers tunkeutuen ja hoiperrellen\r\nheid\xc3\xa4n kaikkien v\xc3\xa4litse ja painiskellen kasvot tulipunaisina ja suonet\r\npullollaan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n vihollisensa kanssa.\r\n\r\nMiehet kompuroivat oikealle ja vasemmalle, kummallisen rym\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4n\r\nsiirtyess\xc3\xa4 nopeasti ulko-ovea kohti ja py\xc3\xb6riess\xc3\xa4 alas kuusi\r\nporrasaskelta. Jaffers huusi tukehtuneella \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 pit\xc3\xa4en kuitenkin\r\nlujasti kiinni, mutta tehden v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n liikkeen polvellaan h\xc3\xa4n py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4hti\r\nymp\xc3\xa4ri ja kaatui raskaasti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 edell\xc3\xa4 soralle. Vasta silloin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsormensa hellittiv\xc3\xa4t otteensa.\r\n\r\nKuului kiihkeit\xc3\xa4 huutoja: "Tarttukaa kiinni h\xc3\xa4neen!" "N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n!" ja\r\nniin edesp\xc3\xa4in, ja er\xc3\xa4s nuorukainen, toispaikkalainen, jonka nime\xc3\xa4 ei\r\ntiedetty, hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si paikalla sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, tarttui johonkin, menetti otteensa\r\nja kaatui maassa makaavan konstaapelin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle. Tien keskikohdalla\r\nkiljaisi er\xc3\xa4s nainen, kun jokin sys\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, ja koira, joka n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti\r\noli saanut potkun, vingahti ja l\xc3\xa4hti ulvoen juoksemaan Huxterin pihalle.\r\n\r\nSiihen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen karkaaminen. Jonkun aikaa ihmiset\r\nseisoivat h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynein\xc3\xa4 ja huitoen, ja sitten seurasi pakokauhu, joka\r\nhajoitti heid\xc3\xa4t pitkin kyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, niinkuin vihuri lenn\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 varisseet\r\nlehdet. Mutta Jaffers makasi ihan hiljaa, kasvot yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in ja polvet\r\nkoukussa majatalon portaiden juurella.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKAHDEKSAS LUKU\r\n\r\nMenomatkalla\r\n\r\n\r\nKahdeksas luku on eritt\xc3\xa4in lyhyt ja kertoo ett\xc3\xa4 Gibbins, seudulla\r\nasustava yksityinen luonnontutkija, maatessaan laajalla aukealla\r\nhiekkanummella, kuten h\xc3\xa4n luuli, muutamien kilometrien p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nl\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ihmisolennosta, puoliunessa, kuuli ihan vierest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n miehen\r\nyskimist\xc3\xa4 ja aivastamista muistuttavan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n viel\xc3\xa4 erotti\r\ntuiman kirouksen ja alkoi katsella ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen, mutta ei n\xc3\xa4hnyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nJa kuitenkin oli tuo \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni ehdottoman varmasti kuulunut. Kiroilemista\r\njatkui niin pitk\xc3\xa4lti ja monivivahteisena, ett\xc3\xa4 sen saattoi tuntea\r\nsivistyneen miehen sadatteluksi. Se kiihtyi v\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xa4 huippuunsa, vaimeni\r\ntaas ja h\xc3\xa4ipyi sitten et\xc3\xa4isyyteen, suuntautuen, kuten h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytti,\r\nAdderdeaniin p\xc3\xa4in. Se kohosi kouristavaksi aivastukseksi ja lakkasi.\r\n\r\nGibbins ei ollut kuullut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sen aamun tapauksista, mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ilmi\xc3\xb6\r\noli niin yll\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 ja j\xc3\xa4rkytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen filosofinen rauhansa\r\nkatosi. H\xc3\xa4n nousi kiireesti pystyyn ja juoksi er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n m\xc3\xa4en rinnett\xc3\xa4 alas,\r\nkyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kohti niin nopeasti kuin suinkin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nYHDEKS\xc3\x84S LUKU\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel\r\n\r\n\r\nThomas Marvelia teid\xc3\xa4n on kuviteltava mieless\xc3\xa4nne leve\xc3\xa4- ja\r\nnotkeakasvoiseksi mieheksi, jolla oli silinterinmuotoinen ulkoneva\r\nnen\xc3\xa4, kostea, iso ja alituisesti liikehtiv\xc3\xa4 suu ja tavattoman\r\nharjasmainen parta. H\xc3\xa4nen vartalollaan oli taipumusta py\xc3\xb6reyteen, jota\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen lyhyet raajansa viel\xc3\xa4 tehostivat. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli karhea\r\nsilkkihattu, ja se ilmi\xc3\xb6, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli huomattavan paljon nauhoja\r\nja keng\xc3\xa4npauloja nappien asemesta, etenkin pukunsa arimmissa kohdissa,\r\nosoitti hyvin selv\xc3\xa4sti, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli oikea vanhapoika.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel istui hiekkanummen yli Adderdeaniin kulkevan tien\r\nvarrella jalat ojassa noin kolmen kilometrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 Ipingist\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\njalkansa, lukuunottamatta reik\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 sukkia, olivat paljaat, h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsuuret varpaansa olivat leve\xc3\xa4t ja pystyss\xc3\xa4 kuin varuillaan olevan\r\nkoiran korvat. Joutilaan n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4 -- h\xc3\xa4n teki kaikki joutilaan tavalla\r\n-- h\xc3\xa4n katseli kuin tutkistellen saapasparia. Ne olivat vahvimmat\r\nsaappaat, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli pitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aikaan l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt, mutta liian isot\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelle, jotavastoin ne, jotka h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ennest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oli, sopivat mainiosti\r\nkuivalla ilmalla, mutta kostealla olivat liian ohutpohjaiset. Thomas\r\nMarvel vihasi isoja saappaita, mutta inhosi my\xc3\xb6skin kosteutta. H\xc3\xa4n ei\r\nollut koskaan oikein ratkaissut mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kumpaa h\xc3\xa4n kammosi enemm\xc3\xa4n,\r\nja nyt oli kaunis p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4, eik\xc3\xa4 ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n parempaa teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Niinp\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4rjesti kaikki nelj\xc3\xa4 saapasta siev\xc3\xa4ksi ryhm\xc3\xa4ksi turvepenkereelle\r\nja tarkasteli niit\xc3\xa4. Kun h\xc3\xa4n katseli niit\xc3\xa4 ruohikossa vastapuhjenneiden\r\nverijuurien joukossa, juolahti h\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 kumpainenkin\r\npari oli eritt\xc3\xa4in ruma. H\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ei ollenkaan h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4nyt takaap\xc3\xa4in\r\nkuuluva \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Siin\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 on saappaita", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Niin on -- hyv\xc3\xa4ntekev\xc3\xa4isyyssaappaita", my\xc3\xb6nsi Thomas Marvel ja\r\nt\xc3\xa4hysteli inhoten n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 saappaita p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 toiselle puolelle kallistuneena,\r\n"mutta lempo minut viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n, jos osaan sanoa, kumpi niist\xc3\xa4 on maailman\r\nrumin saapaspari."\r\n\r\n"Hm", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Olen k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt huonompiakin -- olenpa todella kulkenut ilmankin\r\nsaappaita. Mutta en koskaan ole n\xc3\xa4hnyt noin h\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n rumia,\r\njos niin saa sanoa. Olen etsiskellyt saappaita -- vartavasten --\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4kausia, koska olen kyll\xc3\xa4stynyt _noihin_. Neh\xc3\xa4n ovat kyll\xc3\xa4 aivan\r\nehe\xc3\xa4t. Mutta kuljeskeleva herrasmies n\xc3\xa4kee niin tuhannesti vaivaa\r\nsaappaista. Ja uskokaa pois, en ole l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muita koko\r\nsiunatusta piirikunnasta kuin _nuo_, niin kovasti kuin yritinkin.\r\nKatsokaahan niit\xc3\xa4! Ja oikeastaanhan t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 tavallisesti on hyvi\xc3\xa4\r\nsaappaita. Mutta se on juuri minun h\xc3\xa4ilyv\xc3\xa4n onneni syy. Olen hankkinut\r\nitselleni saappaat t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 piirikunnassa kymmenen vuoden aikana tai\r\nkauemminkin. Ja sitten kohdellaan t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 tavalla."\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on raakamainen piirikunta", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "ja ihmiset ovat sikoja".\r\n\r\n"Eiv\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xb6 olekin?" sanoi Thomas Marvel. "Voi, hyv\xc3\xa4inen aika! Mutta nuo\r\nsaappaat! Ne viev\xc3\xa4t voiton kaikesta."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 oikealle olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 yli katsoakseen puhetoverinsa\r\nsaappaita ja verratakseen niit\xc3\xa4 omiinsa, mutta kas, h\xc3\xa4n ei n\xc3\xa4hnyt\r\ns\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 saappaita siin\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen puhetoverinsa saappaitten\r\nolisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt olla. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 vasemmalle olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 yli,\r\nmutta siell\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 saappaita. H\xc3\xa4nen koko\r\nolemuksestaan s\xc3\xa4teili suuren h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen alkuhohde. "Miss\xc3\xa4 te olette?"\r\nsanoi Thomas Marvel olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 yli ja kompuroi nelinkontin. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki\r\nkaistaleen tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nummea, jonka yll\xc3\xa4 tuuli puhalsi, sek\xc3\xa4 kauempana\r\nvihre\xc3\xa4latvaisia v\xc3\xa4rihernepensaita.\r\n\r\n"Olenko min\xc3\xa4 humalassa?" kysyi Marvel. "Olenko n\xc3\xa4hnyt n\xc3\xa4kyj\xc3\xa4? Puhelinko\r\nitsekseni? Mit\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olko levoton", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 koettakokaan _minua_ puijata vatsapuhumisella", sanoi Thomas\r\nMarvel nousten kiireesti seisomaan. "_Miss\xc3\xa4_ te olette? Levoton\r\ntosiaankin!"\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olko levoton", toisti \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"_Te_ kohta t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 tulette levottomaksi, tyhm\xc3\xa4 hupsu", sanoi Thomas\r\nMarvel. "Miss\xc3\xa4 te olette? Suvaitkaa tulla minun t\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4imeeni..."\r\n\r\n"Oletteko haudattu?" kysyi Thomas Marvel v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ajan kuluttua.\r\n\r\nEi kuulunut vastausta. Thomas Marvel seisoi sukkasillaan ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4, nuttu melkein riisuttuna.\r\n\r\n"Piivit", huusi hyypp\xc3\xa4 hyvin kaukaa.\r\n\r\n"Piivit, niinp\xc3\xa4 tosiaankin", toisti Thomas Marvel. "Nyt ei ole\r\nkujeilun aika." Hiekkanummi oli aivan autio sek\xc3\xa4 it\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja l\xc3\xa4nteen ett\xc3\xa4\r\npohjoiseen ja etel\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Tie, jonka kummallakin puolella oli matalat\r\nojat ja valkeat reunapaalut, kulki tasaisena ja tyhj\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 pohjoisesta\r\netel\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ja hyypp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lukuunottamatta, oli sininen taivaanlakikin ihan\r\ntyhj\xc3\xa4. "Auttakaa siis minua", sanoi Thomas Marvel kiskaisten takin taas\r\nhartioilleen. "Se on juoman syy. Minun olisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt se ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ei se ole juoman syy", virkkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. "Hermonne ovat t\xc3\xa4ysin kunnossa."\r\n\r\n"Ooh!" huudahti Marvel, ja h\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa kalpenivat nyppyl\xc3\xb6iden\r\nv\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4. "Se on juoman syy", toistivat h\xc3\xa4nen huulensa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4i tuijottamaan ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen, py\xc3\xb6rien hitaasti taaksep\xc3\xa4in. "Olisin\r\nvoinut _vannoa_ kuulleeni \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen", kuiskasi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Tietysti kuulittekin."\r\n\r\n"Nyt se taas kuuluu", sanoi Thomas Marvel sulkien silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja pannen\r\nk\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 ristiin otsalleen traagillisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 joku tarttui\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kaulukseensa ja pudisti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 rajusti, saattaen h\xc3\xa4net yh\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n\r\nymm\xc3\xa4lle. "\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olko hullu!" sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Jopa nyt hitto minut peri", virkkoi Marvel. "Huonosti k\xc3\xa4vi. Semmoista\r\nsiit\xc3\xa4 tuli, kun rupesin rehkim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kirottujen saappaiden takia. J\xc3\xa4rki on\r\nmennyt sekaisin tai se on kummitus!"\r\n\r\n"Ei kumpaakaan", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. "Kuulkaahan!"\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4h?" tokaisi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Minuutti vain", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni tuikeasti, v\xc3\xa4risten j\xc3\xa4nnityksest\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 nyt?" kysyi Thomas Marvel, jolla oli outo tunne, ett\xc3\xa4 joku oli\r\nsormella ty\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4nen rintaansa.\r\n\r\n"Luuletteko minun olevan pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mielikuvitusta -- tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ilmaa?"\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 muuta _voitte_ olla?" kysyi Thomas Marvel hieroen niskaansa.\r\n\r\n"Vai niin", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni keventyneen\xc3\xa4. "No sitten ei auta muu kuin ett\xc3\xa4\r\nrupean heittelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n teit\xc3\xa4 piikivill\xc3\xa4, kunnes ajattelette toisin?"\r\n\r\n"Mutta _miss\xc3\xa4_ te olette?"\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni ei vastannut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Suhahtaen lensi kivi aivan kuin ilmasta ja\r\nsivuutti Marvelin olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sormenleveyden p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4. K\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n\r\nhuomasi kiven hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n ilmaan, tekev\xc3\xa4n mutkikkaan kaaren, seisahtuvan\r\nhetkiseksi ja sitten putoavan h\xc3\xa4nen jalalleen niin nopeasti, ett\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4\r\ntuskin erotti. H\xc3\xa4n oli liian h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynyt loikatakseen syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Se tuli\r\nvinkuen ja kimmahti paljaasta varpaasta ojaan. Thomas Marvel nyk\xc3\xa4isi\r\njalkansa yl\xc3\xb6s ja huusi kovasti. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4hti juoksemaan, kompastui\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n esineeseen ja moksahti suinp\xc3\xa4in istuvaan asentoon.\r\n\r\n"Kas niin", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni kolmannen kiven noustessa kaaressa yl\xc3\xb6s\r\nja riippuessa ilmassa maankiert\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xa4puolella, "olenko min\xc3\xa4\r\nmielikuvitusta?"\r\n\r\nMarvel kompuroi vastaukseksi seisomaan ja vier\xc3\xa4hti samassa taas kumoon.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n makasi hetken paikallaan.\r\n\r\n"Jos viel\xc3\xa4 rimpuilette", virkkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "niin heit\xc3\xa4n kiven p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4nne".\r\n\r\n"Sep\xc3\xa4 olisi kaunista", sanoi Thomas Marvel nousten istumaan, tarttuen\r\nhaavoittuneeseen varpaaseensa ja suunnaten katseensa kolmanteen\r\nheittovalmiiseen kiveen. "En ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4. Kivet heittelev\xc3\xa4t itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nKivet puhelevat. Ei siis muuta kuin istu t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, vaikka m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4nisit. Min\xc3\xa4\r\nolen lopussa."\r\n\r\nKolmas kivi putosi.\r\n\r\n"Se on hyvin yksinkertaista", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. "Min\xc3\xa4 olen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n mies."\r\n\r\n"Sanokaapa minulle er\xc3\xa4s asia, jota en k\xc3\xa4sit\xc3\xa4", sanoi Marvel\r\nvaivaloisesti l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en. "Miss\xc3\xa4 te piileskelette -- kuinka te\r\nonnistutte siin\xc3\xa4 -- min\xc3\xa4 en ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4. Olen aivan sekaisin."\r\n\r\n"Ei siin\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kummaa ole", virkkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. "Min\xc3\xa4 olen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n.\r\nSit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tahdon saada teid\xc3\xa4t ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84ly\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n sen kuka tahansa. Teid\xc3\xa4n ei ollenkaan tarvitse olla noin\r\npenteleen k\xc3\xa4rsim\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n, arvoisa herra. Kuulkaahan nyt. Antakaapa jokin\r\nvihjaus. Kuinka te olette piiloutunut?"\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 olen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Se on p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4asia. Ja nyt haluan saada teid\xc3\xa4t\r\nymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Mutta miss\xc3\xa4 te olette?" keskeytti h\xc3\xa4net Marvel.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 viiden metrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 edess\xc3\xa4nne."\r\n\r\n"Jopa nyt! Enh\xc3\xa4n min\xc3\xa4 ole sokea. Sitten varmaankin kerrotte, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nolette pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ilmaa. Mutta min\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 olekaan mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tyhm\xc3\xa4 tomppeli..."\r\n\r\n"Niin, min\xc3\xa4 olen -- pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ilmaa. Te n\xc3\xa4ette l\xc3\xa4vitseni."\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4! Eik\xc3\xb6 t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ole mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ainetta? _\xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni vain_ ja lorua? Sit\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 se\r\non?"\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 olen oikea ihminen, ruumiillinen, ruokaa ja juomaa, viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\r\nvaatteitakin tarvitseva... Mutta olen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4ttek\xc3\xb6?\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Aivan yksinkertaisesti. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n."\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 -- tosiaanko?"\r\n\r\n"Aivan totta."\r\n\r\n"Antakaahan minun tarttua k\xc3\xa4teenne", virkkoi Marvel, "jos _olette_\r\ntodellinen. Se ei tuntuisi niin kirotun merkilliselt\xc3\xa4 sitten..."\r\n\r\n"_Voi hitto!"_ huudahti h\xc3\xa4n, "kuinka saittekaan minut s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kun\r\ntartuitte minuun tuolla lailla!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tunsi k\xc3\xa4den tarttuneen ranteeseensa vapailla sormillaan, ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen omat sormensa hapuilivat arasti pitkin k\xc3\xa4sivartta, taputtivat\r\nlihaksista rintaa ja tunnustelivat partaisia kasvoja. Marvelin\r\nkasvoilla kuvastui \xc3\xa4llistys.\r\n\r\n"Nyt olen ihan ymm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4!" sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n vie voiton\r\nkukkotappelusta! Kerrassaan kummallista! -- Ja tuollahan voin\r\nkilometrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 kaniinin selv\xc3\xa4sti teid\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4vitsenne. Ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4y teist\xc3\xa4 -- paitsi..."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tutki tarkoin edess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olevaa tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 paikkaa. "Olettekohan sy\xc3\xb6nyt\r\nleip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja juustoa?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n pidellen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Olette ihan oikeassa. Se ei ole sulautunut j\xc3\xa4rjestelm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\'\r\n\r\n"Oh!" sanoi Marvel. "Onpa se sittenkin aavemaista."\r\n\r\n"Tietysti kaikki t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ei ole puoleksikaan niin ihmeellist\xc3\xa4 kuin\r\nkuvittelette."\r\n\r\n"Minun vaatimattomiin tarpeisiini se on kyllin ihmeellist\xc3\xa4", virkkoi\r\nThomas Marvel. "Kuinka te saatte t\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4 toimeen! Mik\xc3\xa4 lempo t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on\r\nkonstina?"\r\n\r\n"Se on liian pitk\xc3\xa4 juttu. Ja sit\xc3\xa4paitsi..."\r\n\r\n"Sanonpa teille suoraan, ett\xc3\xa4 koko asia ihan \xc3\xa4llistytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minua", sanoi\r\nMarvel.\r\n\r\n"Nyt en halua sanoa muuta kuin ett\xc3\xa4 tarvitsen apua. Sit\xc3\xa4 olenkin\r\ntullut hakemaan. Tapasin teid\xc3\xa4t \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4. Kuljin mielett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 raivosta,\r\nalastomana ja voimattomana. Olisin voinut tehd\xc3\xa4 murhan... Ja n\xc3\xa4in\r\nteid\xc3\xa4t."\r\n\r\n"Pentele!" huudahti Thomas Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Jouduin teid\xc3\xa4n taaksenne -- ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6in -- jatkoin matkaani."\r\n\r\nMarvelin ilme puhui paljon.\r\n\r\n"Sitten pys\xc3\xa4hdyin. \'Tuossapa on\', ajattelin, \'samanlainen hylki\xc3\xb6 kuin\r\nmin\xc3\xa4kin. Siin\xc3\xa4 on sopiva mies\'. Silloin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyin takaisin ja palasin\r\nluoksenne. Niin. Ja..."\r\n\r\n"Pentele!" huudahti Thomas Marvel. "Mutta min\xc3\xa4 olen ihan p\xc3\xb6kerryksiss\xc3\xa4.\r\nSaanko kysy\xc3\xa4: mik\xc3\xa4 on asia, ja mink\xc3\xa4laista apua te tarvitsette?\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n!"\r\n\r\n"Pyyd\xc3\xa4n teit\xc3\xa4 auttamaan minua vaatteitten ja suojan hankkimisessa ja\r\nsitten viel\xc3\xa4 muissakin asioissa. Olen jo tarpeeksi kauan ollut ilman.\r\nJollette tahdo -- no niin!... Mutta te autatte, teid\xc3\xa4n _t\xc3\xa4ytyy_."\r\n\r\n"Kuulkaahan", sanoi Thomas Marvel. Min\xc3\xa4 olen liiaksi j\xc3\xa4rkytetty.\r\n\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kolhiko minua en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Ja antakaa minun menn\xc3\xa4. Minun on p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n rauhoittumaan. Ja olettepa melkein taittanut varpaani. Kaikki\r\non niin j\xc3\xa4rjet\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4. Tyhj\xc3\xa4 nummi, tyhj\xc3\xa4 taivas. Kilometrien alalla ei\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta n\xc3\xa4kyviss\xc3\xa4 kuin luonnonhelma. Ja sitten kuuluu \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni. \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni\r\ntaivaasta! Ja kivi\xc3\xa4. Ja nyrkki. Voi pentele!"\r\n\r\n"Rohkaiskaa vain mielenne", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "sill\xc3\xa4 teid\xc3\xa4n on suoritettava\r\nse ty\xc3\xb6, johon olen valinnut teid\xc3\xa4t."\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel puhalsi syv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n henke\xc3\xa4, ja h\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 py\xc3\xb6ristyiv\xc3\xa4t.\r\n\r\n"Olen valinnut teid\xc3\xa4t", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "Te olette kyl\xc3\xa4n muutamia hupsuja\r\nlukuunottamatta ainoa ihminen, joka tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sellaisen kuin N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nMiehen olemassaolosta. Teid\xc3\xa4n on autettava minua. Auttakaa minua ja\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 teen paljon teid\xc3\xa4n hyv\xc3\xa4ksenne. Ja N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies onkin mahtava."\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vaikeni hetkiseksi ja aivasti rajusti.\r\n\r\n"Mutta jos te pet\xc3\xa4tte minut", jatkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "jollette tee niinkuin min\xc3\xa4\r\nneuvon teit\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n keskeytti lauseensa ja l\xc3\xb6i Thomas Marvelia aika lailla olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle.\r\nMaankiert\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sti kauhistuneen kiljahduksen tuntiessaan t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n\r\nkosketuksen.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 en halua pett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 teit\xc3\xa4", vastasi Thomas Marvel v\xc3\xa4istyen syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsormien suunnasta. "\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sellaista ajatelko, mit\xc3\xa4 tahansa teettekin.\r\nMuuta en haluakaan kuin auttaa teit\xc3\xa4 -- sanokaa vain, mit\xc3\xa4 minun on\r\nteht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4. (Pentele!) Mit\xc3\xa4 ikin\xc3\xa4 vaaditte minun tekem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sen teen perin\r\nmielell\xc3\xa4ni."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKYMMENES LUKU\r\n\r\nMarvelin k\xc3\xa4ynti Ipingiss\xc3\xa4\r\n\r\n\r\nKun ensimm\xc3\xa4inen raju pakokauhun puuska oli lauhtunut, ruvettiin\r\nIpingiss\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4ittelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n asiasta. Ep\xc3\xa4ilys kohotti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\n-- jokseenkin hermostunut ep\xc3\xa4ilys, joka ei lainkaan ollut varma\r\nselk\xc3\xa4puolestaan, mutta joka kuitenkin oli ep\xc3\xa4ilyst\xc3\xa4. Paljon helpompaa\r\nonkin olla uskomatta N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Mieheen, ja ne, jotka todella olivat\r\nn\xc3\xa4hneet h\xc3\xa4nen haihtuvan ilmaan tai tunteneet h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivartensa voimaa,\r\nsaattoi laskea kahden k\xc3\xa4den sormilla. Ja n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 todistajista puuttui\r\npian Wadgers, joka oli jyrk\xc3\xa4sti vet\xc3\xa4ytynyt oman talonsa lukkojen ja\r\nsalpojen taakse. Jaffers taas makasi tajuttomana "Vaunujen ja Hevosten"\r\nvierashuoneessa.\r\n\r\nSuuret ja merkilliset ajatukset, jotka eiv\xc3\xa4t kuulu omaan\r\nkokemuspiiriin, vaikuttavat usein v\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4n ihmisiin kuin pienemm\xc3\xa4t,\r\nkouraantuntuvammat seikat. Ipingiss\xc3\xa4 liehui lippuja, ja jokainen oli\r\npuettu juhlapukuun. Helluntaimaanantaita oli odotettu kuukausi tai\r\nkauemminkin. Iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 nekin, jotka uskoivat N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, alkoivat\r\nkoetteeksi palata pikku huvituksiinsa siin\xc3\xa4 vakaumuksessa, ett\xc3\xa4 outo\r\nmies oli kokonaan l\xc3\xa4htenyt pois, ja ep\xc3\xa4ilij\xc3\xa4t laskivat h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 leikki\xc3\xa4.\r\nMutta kaikki -- yht\xc3\xa4 hyvin ep\xc3\xa4ilij\xc3\xa4t kuin uskojatkin -- olivat koko\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n oikein huomattavasti seuranhaluisia.\r\n\r\nHaysmanin niitylle oli laitettu teltta, jossa rouva Bunting ja muut\r\nnaiset valmistivat teet\xc3\xa4, sunnuntaikoululasten ulkona juostessa kilpaa\r\nja leikkiess\xc3\xa4 apupapin ja neitien Cussin ja Sackbutin johdolla.\r\nEp\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 oli ilmassa jonkinlaista levottomuutta, mutta ihmiset\r\nymm\xc3\xa4rsiv\xc3\xa4t enimm\xc3\xa4kseen salata sen kuvitellun ahdistuksen, jota he\r\nmahdollisesti tunsivat.\r\n\r\nKyl\xc3\xa4n nurmikolla osoitti nuoriso voimakkaasti suosiotaan kaltevalle\r\nnuoralle, jota my\xc3\xb6ten saattoi joutua rajusti heitetyksi toisessa\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 olevaa s\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 vastaan, kun kaiken aikaa piti kiinni v\xc3\xa4kipy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4n\r\nkieputtamasta kahvasta. Niinik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n riitti v\xc3\xa4ke\xc3\xa4 keinuihin ja\r\nkookosp\xc3\xa4hkin\xc3\xa4katokseen. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi oli laitettu k\xc3\xa4velypaikka, ja\r\npieneen karuselliin kiinnitetty h\xc3\xb6yryhanuri t\xc3\xa4ytti ilman kirpe\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\n\xc3\xb6ljynhajulla ja yht\xc3\xa4 kirpe\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 soitolla.\r\n\r\nKlubin j\xc3\xa4senill\xc3\xa4, jotka aamulla olivat k\xc3\xa4yneet kirkossa, oli\r\nrinnassaan vaaleanpunaisen ja vihre\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4riset merkit, olivatpa jotkut\r\niloluontoisemmat koristaneet keilamaiset hattunsa loistavanv\xc3\xa4risill\xc3\xa4\r\nnauharuusukkeilla. Vanha Fletcher, jonka k\xc3\xa4sitykset juhlanvietosta\r\nolivat vakavat, n\xc3\xa4kyi ikkunallaan kukkivien jasmiinien l\xc3\xa4pi tai\r\navoimesta ovesta (kummalta puolen halusi katsella) seisten varovasti\r\nkahden tuolin kannattamalla laudalla: h\xc3\xa4n oli valkaisemassa\r\netuhuoneensa kattoa.\r\n\r\nNoin nelj\xc3\xa4n aikaan asteli kyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n er\xc3\xa4s outo mies hiekkanummien puolelta.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n oli lyhyt, paksu olento, jolla oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n perin kulunut\r\nkorkea hattu, ja n\xc3\xa4ytti olevan hyvin heng\xc3\xa4stynyt. H\xc3\xa4nen poskensa\r\nolivat vuoroin riipuksissa, vuoroin taas kovasti pullollaan. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkirjavat kasvonsa olivat pelokkaan n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6iset, ja h\xc3\xa4n liikkui tavallaan\r\nvastahakoisen ripe\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\nKirkon luona h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi nurkan ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja suuntasi kulkunsa "Vainuihin\r\nja Hevosiin". Muiden ohella muistaa vanha Fletcher h\xc3\xa4net n\xc3\xa4hneens\xc3\xa4, ja\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 kunnon mies h\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4hti niin kovasti h\xc3\xa4nen erikoista kiihtymyst\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 huomaamattaan antoi aika paljon valkaisuainetta valua harjaa\r\npitkin takkinsa hihaan vierasta katsellessaan.\r\n\r\nKookosp\xc3\xa4hkin\xc3\xa4katoksen omistajan mielest\xc3\xa4 puheli outo tulokas itsekseen,\r\nja Huxter huomasi saman ilmi\xc3\xb6n. Mies pys\xc3\xa4htyi "Vaunujen ja Hevosten"\r\nportaiden juurelle ja n\xc3\xa4ytti Huxterin v\xc3\xa4itteen mukaan suorittavan\r\nvakavan sis\xc3\xa4isen kamppailun, ennenkuin jaksoi pakottaa itsens\xc3\xa4 menem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsis\xc3\xa4lle. Lopulta h\xc3\xa4n astui yl\xc3\xb6s portaita, mink\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4lkeen Huxter n\xc3\xa4ki\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyv\xc3\xa4n vasemmalle ja avaavan vierashuoneen oven. Sitten Huxter\r\nkuuli sielt\xc3\xa4 ja tarjoiluhuoneesta \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni\xc3\xa4, jotka ilmoittivat vieraalle\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen erehtyneen.\r\n\r\n"Se huone on yksityinen!" sanoi Hall, ja vieras sulki oven k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6sti\r\nja meni tarjoiluhuoneeseen.\r\n\r\nViiden minuutin kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n ilmestyi j\xc3\xa4lleen ulos, pyyhkien huuliaan\r\nk\xc3\xa4densel\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niin rauhallisen ja tyytyv\xc3\xa4isen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 se\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti Huxterista melko lailla teenn\xc3\xa4iselt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n seisoi jonkun aikaa\r\nkatsellen ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen, ja sitten Huxter n\xc3\xa4ki h\xc3\xa4nen astuvan omituisen\r\nsalavihkaisesti pihaportille, jonne p\xc3\xa4in vierashuoneen ikkuna oli.\r\nJonkun verran ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6ity\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vieras nojautui toista portinpylv\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 vasten,\r\nveti esille lyhyen savipiipun ja alkoi sit\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen sormensa\r\nvapisivat siin\xc3\xa4 puuhassa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n sytytti sen k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6sti ja pannen\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivartensa ristiin veteli sauhuja veltossa asennossa, jonka kanssa\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in pitkin pihaa luomansa pikaiset silm\xc3\xa4ykset olivat\r\nselv\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ristiriidassa.\r\n\r\nKaiken t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n Huxter n\xc3\xa4ki tupakkaikkunan peltirasioiden takaa, ja miehen\r\nomituinen k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xb6s yllytti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 jatkamaan tarkastelujaan.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 vieras suoristautui ja pisti piipun taskuunsa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nkatosi pihalle. Silloin Huxter, ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4en olevansa jonkin n\xc3\xa4pistelyn\r\ntodistajana, heti juoksi myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja kiirehti ulos tielle\r\nsiepatakseen varkaan kiinni. Juuri samassa ilmestyi taas Marvel, hattu\r\nkallellaan, iso siniseen p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4liinaan kiedottu mytty toisessa k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nja toisessa kolme yhteen sidottua kirjaa. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 sitominen oli, kuten\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in k\xc3\xa4vi ilmi, toimitettu kappalaisen housunkannattimilla.\r\nKohta kun h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki Huxterin, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 jonkinlainen l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tys, ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi kiireesti vasemmalle ja alkoi juosta. "Ottakaa kiinni\r\nvaras!" huusi Huxter ja rynt\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4nen per\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nHuxterin mielenkiihko oli voimakas, mutta lyhyt. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki miehen ihan\r\nedess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pyyh\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n kirkon nurkkaa kohti ja sitten pitkin maantiet\xc3\xa4.\r\nToisaalla h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki kyl\xc3\xa4n liput ja juhlavarustukset, ja vain pari\r\nkolme henke\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 katsomaan. H\xc3\xa4n karjui taas: "Ottakaa\r\nvaras kiinni!" ja jatkoi rohkeasti juoksuaan. Tuskin h\xc3\xa4n oli ehtinyt\r\nkymment\xc3\xa4 pitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 loikkausta, kun h\xc3\xa4nen s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reens\xc3\xa4 tartuttiin takaap\xc3\xa4in\r\nsalaper\xc3\xa4isell\xc3\xa4 tavalla, eik\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 juossut, vaan lensi uskomattoman\r\nnopeasti ilman l\xc3\xa4pi. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki maan ihan kiinni p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Maailma\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti pirstoutuvan miljoonaksi py\xc3\xb6riv\xc3\xa4ksi valopilkuksi, eiv\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4\r\n"senj\xc3\xa4lkeen sattuneet seikat en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kiinnitt\xc3\xa4neet h\xc3\xa4nen mielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n".\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nYHDESTOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nVaunuissa ja Hevosissa\r\n\r\n\r\nYmm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen selv\xc3\xa4sti, mit\xc3\xa4 majatalossa oli tapahtunut, on v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\r\npalattava siihen hetkeen, jolloin Thomas Marvel ensiksi tuli Huxterin\r\nikkunan n\xc3\xa4kyviin.\r\n\r\nJuuri sill\xc3\xa4 hetkell\xc3\xa4 olivat herra Cuss ja herra Bunting\r\nvierashuoneessa. He pohtivat vakavasti sen aamun omituisia tapauksin\r\nja ottivat Hallin luvalla perinpohjin tarkastaakseen N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nMiehen tavaroita. Jaffers oli osittain toipunut kaatumisestaan ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4htenyt kotiinsa my\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4tuntoisten yst\xc3\xa4vien hoitoon. Rouva Hall oli\r\nkorjannut pois vieraan hajalleen j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neet vaatteet ja siistinyt\r\nhuoneen. Ikkunan edess\xc3\xa4 olevalta p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4, jonka luona vieraan oli\r\nollut tapana ty\xc3\xb6skennell\xc3\xa4, Cuss oli melkein heti l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt kolme suurta\r\nk\xc3\xa4sinkirjoitettua kirjaa, joiden nimen\xc3\xa4 oli "P\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4kirja".\r\n\r\n"P\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4kirja!" sanoi Cuss laskien n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 kolme kirjaa p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle. "Nyt me\r\nainakin saamme tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 jotakin." Kappalainen seisoi nojaten k\xc3\xa4sill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\np\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"P\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4kirja", toisti Cuss istuutuen, pannen kaksi kirjaa kolmannen\r\ntueksi ja avaten sen. "Hm, ei ollenkaan nime\xc3\xa4 ensimm\xc3\xa4isell\xc3\xa4 lehdell\xc3\xa4.\r\nSep\xc3\xa4 nyt kiusa!... Numeroita. Ja laskuja."\r\n\r\nKappalainen tuli l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi ja alkoi katsella h\xc3\xa4nen olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 yli.\r\n\r\nCuss selaili lehti\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4yden \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 pettyneen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6iseksi. "Mit\xc3\xa4 --\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4inen aika! Yksinomaan numeroita, Bunting."\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 ollenkaan kaavoja?" kysyi Bunting. "Eik\xc3\xb6 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuvioita, jotka\r\nloisivat valoa..."\r\n\r\n"Katsokaa itse", sanoi Cuss. "Siin\xc3\xa4 on jotakin matemaattista, ja sitten\r\nven\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tai muuta sentapaista kielt\xc3\xa4 (kirjaimista p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en), onpa siin\xc3\xa4\r\nkreikkaakin. Mutta kreikkaahan luullakseni _te_..."\r\n\r\n"Tietysti", sanoi Bunting, ottaen lasisilm\xc3\xa4t nen\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja pyyhkien\r\nniit\xc3\xa4, samalla tuntien olevansa kiusallisessa pulassa, sill\xc3\xa4\r\nkreikankielen taidosta h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ei en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ollut j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4 mainitsemisen\r\narvoista. -- "Niin, kreikka tietystikin voi antaa jonkin vihjauksen."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 haen teille jonkun sellaisen paikan."\r\n\r\n"Haluaisin ensin silm\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4 noita niteit\xc3\xa4", virkkoi Bunting yh\xc3\xa4 pyyhkien\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4laseja. "Ensiksi yleinen vaikutelma, Cuss, ja sitten voimme hakea\r\nvihjauksia."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ysk\xc3\xa4hti, pani silm\xc3\xa4lasit nen\xc3\xa4lleen, sovitteli niit\xc3\xa4 huolellisesti,\r\nysk\xc3\xa4hti taas ja toivoi tapahtuvan jotakin, mik\xc3\xa4 tekisi lopun t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4,\r\nkuten n\xc3\xa4ytti, ehdottoman varmasti tulevasta nolauksesta. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\notti vitkastellen vastaan Cussin ojentaman niteen, ja samalla tapahtui\r\njotakin.\r\n\r\nOvi avautui \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nMolemmat miehet s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t kovasti, katsahtivat ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen ja\r\ntunsivat mielenhuojennusta n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kirjavan punertavat kasvot\r\np\xc3\xb6rr\xc3\xb6isen silkkihatun alla. "Kapakka?" kysyiv\xc3\xa4t nuo kasvot ja j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t\r\ntuijottamaan.\r\n\r\n"Ei", vastasivat molemmat herrat yhtaikaa.\r\n\r\n"Toisella puolella, hyv\xc3\xa4 mies", sanoi Bunting. "Olkaapa hyv\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nsulkekaa ovi", lis\xc3\xa4si Cuss \xc3\xa4rtyis\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4 on", sanoi kutsumaton vieras, kuten tuntui, matalalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4,\r\njoka omituisesti erosi ensimm\xc3\xa4isen kysymyksen k\xc3\xa4heydest\xc3\xa4. "Oikeassa\r\nolette", sanoi tungettelija \xc3\xa4skeisell\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "Pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ulohtaalla!"\r\nja h\xc3\xa4n katosi sulkien oven.\r\n\r\n"Merimies, luullakseni", sanoi Bunting. "Ne ovat hauskoja poikia.\r\nPysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ulohtaalla, tosiaankin. Merimiesten puhetapaa. H\xc3\xa4n tahtoi\r\nluullakseni sill\xc3\xa4 viitata omaan aikomukseensa."\r\n\r\n"Niin otaksun min\xc3\xa4kin", virkkoi Cuss. "Minun hermoni ovat t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ihan\r\nep\xc3\xa4kunnossa. Oikein s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4hdin \xc3\xa4sken, kun ovi noin aukeni."\r\n\r\nBunting hymyili, ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin h\xc3\xa4n ei olisi s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4nyt. "Ja nyt", lis\xc3\xa4si\r\nh\xc3\xa4n huoahtaen, "n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 kirjat".\r\n\r\n"Malttakaas hetkinen", sanoi Cuss ja k\xc3\xa4vi lukitsemassa oven. "Nyt\r\nolemme luullakseni turvassa tungettelijoilta."\r\n\r\nSilloin joku tuhahti nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Yksi asia ainakin on varma", sanoi Bunting vet\xc3\xa4en tuolin Cussin\r\nviereen. "N\xc3\xa4iden muutamien viime p\xc3\xa4ivien kuluessa on Ipingiss\xc3\xa4\r\ntosiaankin tapahtunut hyvin kummallisia asioita -- hyvin kummallisia.\r\nEn tietysti voi uskoa mielett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n juttuun n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Se on uskomatonta", virkkoi Cuss, "uskomatonta. Mutta tosiasiana\r\npysyy, ett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in -- min\xc3\xa4 tosiaankin n\xc3\xa4in suoraan h\xc3\xa4nen hihaansa..."\r\n\r\n"Mutta n\xc3\xa4ittek\xc3\xb6 -- oletteko varma...? Jos siin\xc3\xa4 oli esimerkiksi peili\r\ntai jokin semmoinen. Harhan\xc3\xa4kyj\xc3\xa4 saa niin helposti aikaan. Lienettek\xc3\xb6\r\nkoskaan n\xc3\xa4hnyt oikein todella hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 taikatemppujen tekij\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"En tahdo en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4itell\xc3\xa4", sanoi Cuss. "Onhan sit\xc3\xa4 asiaa jo p\xc3\xb6yhitty\r\njoka puolelta, Bunting. K\xc3\xa4yk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4mme siis nyt k\xc3\xa4siksi n\xc3\xa4ihin kirjoihin...\r\nKas, t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on sellaista, mit\xc3\xa4 otaksun kreikankieleksi! Kreikkalaisia\r\nkirjaimia ihan varmasti."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n osoitti sivun keskikohdalle. Bunting punastui hiukan ja l\xc3\xa4hensi\r\nkasvojaan kirjaan silm\xc3\xa4lasien, ilmeisesti, tehdess\xc3\xa4 kiusaa. Pikku\r\nmiehen kreikantaito oli per\xc3\xa4ti heikko, ja h\xc3\xa4n uskoi lujasti, ett\xc3\xa4\r\njokainen maallikko luuli h\xc3\xa4nen osaavan lukea kreikkalaisia ja\r\nheprealaisia alkuteoksia. Ja nyt... Tunnustaisiko h\xc3\xa4n? Lukisiko h\xc3\xa4n\r\njotakin itsekeksim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4?\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tunsi omituisen kosketuksen niskassaan. H\xc3\xa4n koetti liikuttaa\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mutta t\xc3\xb6ks\xc3\xa4hti liikkumattomaan vastukseen.\r\n\r\nKosketus oli merkillist\xc3\xa4 puristusta -- aivan kuin raskaan, lujan k\xc3\xa4den\r\note, joka ty\xc3\xb6nsi h\xc3\xa4nen leukaansa vastustamattomasti p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kiinni.\r\n"_\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 liikkuko, pikku miehet"_, kuiskasi \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni, "_tai min\xc3\xa4 murskaan\r\nteid\xc3\xa4n kummankin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kallonne_!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vilkaisi Cussin kasvoihin, jotka olivat h\xc3\xa4nen omiensa vieress\xc3\xa4, ja\r\nn\xc3\xa4ki kauhistuneen heijastuksen omasta vihlovasta pel\xc3\xa4styksest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Olen pahoillani, ett\xc3\xa4 minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy kohdella teit\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in tylysti",\r\nsanoi \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni, "mutta se on v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4. Mist\xc3\xa4 alkaen olette oppineet\r\nnuuskimaan tutkijan yksityisi\xc3\xa4 muistiinpanoja?" kysyi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, ja kaksi\r\nleukaa kolahti p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yhtaikaa, ja kahdet hammasrivit kalisivat.\r\n\r\n"Mist\xc3\xa4 alkaen olette oppineet tunkeutumaan kovaonnisen miehen\r\nyksityishuoneeseen?" ja \xc3\xa4skeinen t\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4hdys toistui.\r\n\r\n"Minne he ovat panneet vaatteeni? Kuulkaapas, ikkunat ovat kiinni, ja\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 olen ottanut avaimen pois ovesta. Min\xc3\xa4 olen kerrassaan v\xc3\xa4kev\xc3\xa4\r\nmies, ja minulla on hiilihanko k\xc3\xa4sill\xc3\xa4, jotapaitsi olen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Ei\r\nole pienint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n syyt\xc3\xa4 ep\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 voisin tappaa teid\xc3\xa4t kumpaisenkin\r\nja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 tieheni ihan helposti, jos haluaisin -- ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4ttek\xc3\xb6? No\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4. Jos p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4n teid\xc3\xa4t menem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, niin lupaatteko olla ryhtym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\r\nmihink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4rjett\xc3\xb6myyksiin ja tehd\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sken?"\r\n\r\nKappalainen ja haavuri katsahtivat toisiinsa ja haavuri n\xc3\xa4ytti nololta.\r\n"Kyll\xc3\xa4", sanoi Bunting, ja Cuss toisti samaa.\r\n\r\nSilloin heltisi niskassa tuntuva puristus, ja haavuri ja kappalainen\r\nsuoristautuivat istumaan, molemmat hyvin punaisina kasvoiltaan ja\r\nv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnellen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Olkaa hyv\xc3\xa4t ja istukaa paikoillanne", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies.\r\n"Katsokaas, t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on hiilihanko. Kun min\xc3\xa4 tulin t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n huoneeseen",\r\njatkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies, suunnaten hiilihangon kummankin vieraansa nen\xc3\xa4n\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, "en odottanut tapaavani t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ihmisi\xc3\xa4. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi min\xc3\xa4 odotin\r\nl\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ni muistiinpanokirjojeni keralla vaatekerran. Miss\xc3\xa4 se on? Ei\r\n-- \xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nousko! Huomaan, ett\xc3\xa4 se on kadonnut. Vaikka nykyj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t\r\novat kylliksi l\xc3\xa4mpimi\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n miehen juoksennella yltymp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nalastomana, niin illat ovat koleita. Tarvitsen vaatteita -- ja muutakin\r\nmukavuutta. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi t\xc3\xa4ytyy minun saada nuo kolme kirjaa."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKAHDESTOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies menett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 malttinsa\r\n\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kohdassa on kertomus taas katkaistava er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hyvin kiusallisen\r\nasian vuoksi, joka pian selvi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Sill\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4lin kun tapaukset kehittyiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nt\xc3\xa4lle kannalle vierashuoneessa ja Huxter katseli, kuinka Marvel poltti\r\npiippuaan porttiin nojautuen, puhelivat Hall ja Teddy Henfrey tuskin\r\nkymmenen metrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 synk\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mmennyksen vallassa Ipingin ainoasta\r\nkeskusteluaiheesta.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 kuului voimakas jys\xc3\xa4hdys vierashuoneen ovea vasten, sitten kime\xc3\xa4\r\nhuuto, jonka j\xc3\xa4lkeen kaikki oli hiljaa.\r\n\r\n"_Hal-loo_!" sanoi Teddy Henfrey.\r\n\r\n"_Hal-oo_!" kuului ravintolahuoneesta.\r\n\r\nHall k\xc3\xa4sitti asiat hitaasti, mutta varmasti. "Nyt ei ole kaikki\r\noikein", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n ja kiersi ravintolap\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n takaa vierashuoneen ovelle.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ja Teddy l\xc3\xa4hestyiv\xc3\xa4t ovea yhdess\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4nnittynein kasvoin. Heid\xc3\xa4n\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 vilkuilivat. "Jokin on vinossa", virkkoi Hall, ja Henfrey\r\nny\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si my\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti. Heid\xc3\xa4n nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 tuntui vastenmielisi\xc3\xa4 kemiallisia\r\nhajuja. Kuului nopeaa keskustelua hiljaisella \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Onko siell\xc3\xa4 kaikki kunnossa?" kysyi Hall koputtaen.\r\n\r\nKuiskaava keskustelu lakkasi paikalla. V\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n aikaa oli hiljaista.\r\nSitten alkoi taas kuulua puhelua s\xc3\xa4hisev\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kuiskauksena, senj\xc3\xa4lkeen\r\nkime\xc3\xa4 kiljahdus: "Ei, ei -- \xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4!" Kuului \xc3\xa4killinen liikahdus, tuolin\r\nkaatuminen ja lyhyt kamppailu. Taas hiljaista.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 pirua!" huudahti Henfrey matalalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Onko siell\xc3\xa4 kaikki hyvin?" kysyi Hall j\xc3\xa4lleen kime\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\nKappalaisen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni vastasi omituisen v\xc3\xa4risev\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4: "A-aivan hyvin.\r\n\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n keskeytt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6."\r\n\r\n"Kummallista!" sanoi Henfrey.\r\n\r\n"Kummallista!" sanoi Hall.\r\n\r\n"Sanoi: \xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 keskeytt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6", sanoi Henfrey.\r\n\r\n"Kuulin sen", sanoi Hall.\r\n\r\n"Ja tuhahti nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4", lis\xc3\xa4si Henfrey.\r\n\r\nHe j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t kuuntelemaan. Keskustelu oli nopeata ja matala\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nist\xc3\xa4, "En\r\n_voi_", sanoi Bunting korottaen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "Sanon teille, herra, etten\r\n_tahdo_."\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 se oli?" kysyi Henfrey.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n sanoo, ettei h\xc3\xa4n tahdo", virkkoi Hall. "Eih\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n meille puhunut,\r\nvai mit\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4!" sanoi Bunting sis\xc3\xa4puolella.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4", sanoi Henfrey. "Min\xc3\xa4 kuulin sen -- selv\xc3\xa4sti. Kuka nyt\r\npuhuu?"\r\n\r\n"Herra Cuss luullakseni", sanoi Hall. "Voitteko kuulla mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n?"\r\n\r\nHiljaisuus. Sis\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 kuuluivat \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4net ep\xc3\xa4selvin\xc3\xa4 ja h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4isin\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Kuulostaa siit\xc3\xa4 kuin heitelt\xc3\xa4isiin p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4liinaa", huomautti Hall.\r\n\r\nRouva Hall ilmestyi tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taakse. Hall teki eleit\xc3\xa4, joiden\r\ntarkoituksena oli kehoittaa h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 vaikenemaan ja tulemaan l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi.\r\nSe kiihoitti rouva Hallin naisellista vastustushalua.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 sin\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4 kuuntelet, Hall?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n. "Eik\xc3\xb6 sinulla ole\r\nparempaa teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in kiireisen\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\nHall koetti selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 asiaa kasvojen v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nteill\xc3\xa4 ja mykill\xc3\xa4 eleill\xc3\xa4,\r\nmutta rouva Hall oli itsepintainen. H\xc3\xa4n korotti \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Silloin\r\nHall ja Henfrey hiipiv\xc3\xa4t noloina varpaisillaan tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luo ja\r\nviittoilivat, saadakseen h\xc3\xa4net ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nEnsiksi rouva Hall ei tahtonut kallistaa korvaansakaan heid\xc3\xa4n\r\npuheilleen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4ski Hallin vaieta Henfreyn kertoessa koko\r\njutun. H\xc3\xa4n melkein uskoi, ett\xc3\xa4 kaikki oli vain h\xc3\xb6lynp\xc3\xb6ly\xc3\xa4 -- ehk\xc3\xa4 he\r\nvain paraikaa siirteliv\xc3\xa4t huonekaluja.\r\n\r\n"Kuulin h\xc3\xa4nen sanovan \'h\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4\'. _Sen_ kuulin", v\xc3\xa4itti Hall.\r\n\r\n"_Min\xc3\xa4_ sen kuulin, rouva Hall", sanoi Henfrey.\r\n\r\n"Yhdentekev\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", aloitti rouva Hall.\r\n\r\n"Hsh!" sanoi Teddy Henfrey. "Eik\xc3\xb6 ikkuna kolahtanut?"\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4 ikkuna?" kysyi rouva Hall.\r\n\r\n"Vierashuoneen", vastasi Henfrey.\r\n\r\nJokainen kuunteli j\xc3\xa4nnittyneen\xc3\xa4. Rouva Hallin silm\xc3\xa4t, jotka tuijottivat\r\nsuoraan eteenp\xc3\xa4in, n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t, oikeastaan n\xc3\xa4kem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, majatalon tutun\r\npitkulaisen oviaukon, valkean ja vilkasliikkeisen ja Huxterin myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n\r\netusivun v\xc3\xa4lkkyv\xc3\xa4n kes\xc3\xa4kuun auringonpaisteessa. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 Huxterin ovi\r\naukeni, ja Huxter ilmestyi ulos silm\xc3\xa4t kiihtynein\xc3\xa4 tuijottaen ja\r\nhuitoen k\xc3\xa4sivarsillaan.\r\n\r\n"Hoi!" huusi Huxter. "Ottakaa varas kiinni!" Ja h\xc3\xa4n juoksi viistoon\r\nsoikion poikki porttia kohti ja katosi.\r\n\r\nSamassa kuului vierashuoneesta h\xc3\xa4lin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja ikkunoiden sulkemista.\r\n\r\nHall, Henfrey ja kaikki ravintolassa olleet hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t paikalla\r\nsikin sokin kadulle. He n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t jonkun pyyh\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n nurkan ymp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nnummelle viev\xc3\xa4lle tielle p\xc3\xa4in ja herra Huxterin suorittavan ilmassa\r\nmonimutkaisen loikkauksen, joka p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyi siihen, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n suistui\r\nkasvoilleen. Pitkin raittia seisoskeli ihmisi\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynein\xc3\xa4 tai\r\nrynt\xc3\xa4si heit\xc3\xa4 kohti.\r\n\r\nHuxter oli py\xc3\xb6rtynyt. Henfrey pys\xc3\xa4htyi sen huomatessaan, mutta Hall\r\nja molemmat ravintolasta l\xc3\xa4hteneet ty\xc3\xb6miehet sy\xc3\xb6ks\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t oikop\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nnurkalle, huutaen sekavia sanoja, ja n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t Marvelin katoavan kirkon\r\nnurkan taakse. N\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti he olivat tulleet siihen mahdottomaan\r\njohtop\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6kseen, ett\xc3\xa4 siin\xc3\xa4 oli N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies, joka oli \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 tullut\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ksi, ja l\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t paikalla ajamaan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 takaa pitkin tiet\xc3\xa4. Mutta\r\ntuskin Hall oli juossut muuta kuin kymmenkunnan metri\xc3\xa4, ennenkuin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si kova h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen huuto, ja h\xc3\xa4n lensi p\xc3\xa4istikkaa\r\nsyrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, tarttuen toiseen ty\xc3\xb6mieheen ja kaataen h\xc3\xa4netkin kerallaan.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen kimppuunsa oli hy\xc3\xb6k\xc3\xa4tty ihan samoin kuin miest\xc3\xa4 ahdistetaan\r\njalkapallopeliss\xc3\xa4. Toinen ty\xc3\xb6mies tuli kaaressa paikalle, j\xc3\xa4i\r\ntuijottamaan ja k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Hallin kaatuneen omasta syyst\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi\r\njatkamaan takaa-ajoa, mutta kompastui nurin samoin kuin Huxterkin. Kun\r\nensimm\xc3\xa4inen ty\xc3\xb6mies kompuroi seisomaan, viskasi h\xc3\xa4net syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n isku,\r\njoka olisi voinut kaataa h\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4nkin.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen suistuessaan maahan tulivat kyl\xc3\xa4n nurmikolta l\xc3\xa4hteneet\r\njuoksijat nurkan ymp\xc3\xa4ri. Ensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 ilmestyi kookosp\xc3\xa4hkin\xc3\xa4katoksen\r\nomistaja, rehev\xc3\xa4, siniseen villanuttuun puettu mies. H\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styi\r\nhuomatessaan tien olevan tyhj\xc3\xa4n, lukuunottamatta kolmea miest\xc3\xa4, jotka\r\nolivat k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6sti kellell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n maassa. Silloin tapahtui jotakin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\ntakimmaiselle jalalleen, h\xc3\xa4n kaatui suin p\xc3\xa4in ja kieri tien sivuun\r\njuuri paraiksi takertuakseen yhti\xc3\xb6toverinsa jalkaan, niin ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\nkaatui h\xc3\xa4nen kerallaan. Sitten n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 molemmat saivat osakseen monta\r\npotkua h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4isilt\xc3\xa4 ihmisilt\xc3\xa4, jotka tulivat per\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ja kiroillen\r\nkaatuivat heid\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lleen.\r\n\r\nKun Hall ja Henfrey ja ty\xc3\xb6miehet juoksivat ulos talosta, j\xc3\xa4i rouva Hall\r\nmonivuotisen kokemuksensa opettamana ravintolahuoneeseen kassalaatikon\r\nviereen. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 aukeni vierashuoneen ovi, ja sielt\xc3\xa4 ilmestyi Cuss.\r\nKatsahtamattakaan rouva Halliin h\xc3\xa4n sy\xc3\xb6ksyi heti alas portaita nurkalle\r\np\xc3\xa4in. "Ottakaa h\xc3\xa4net kiinni!" huusi h\xc3\xa4n, "\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 antako h\xc3\xa4nen heitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntuota k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4! Voitte n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net niin kauan kuin h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on tuo k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ei tiennyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Marvelin olemassaolosta, sill\xc3\xa4 N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies oli\r\nojentanut kirjat ja vaatemytyn ikkunasta pihalle. Cussin kasvot olivat\r\nvihaiset ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4iset, mutta h\xc3\xa4nen pukunsa oli puutteellinen --\r\nvain jonkinlainen irtonainen valkea viitta, joka olisi voinut kelvata\r\nmalliksi ainoastaan Kreikassa. "Ottakaa h\xc3\xa4net kiinni!" karjui h\xc3\xa4n. "H\xc3\xa4n\r\non vienyt housuni! -- ja kaikki kappalaisen vaatteet!"\r\n\r\n"Pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net heti paikalla!" huusi h\xc3\xa4n Henfreylle sivuuttaessaan\r\nmaassa makaavan Huxterin ja kiersi nurkan ymp\xc3\xa4ri liittyen meluavaan\r\nv\xc3\xa4kijoukkoon, mutta luiskahti samalla kumoon rumaan asentoon. Joku\r\nlensi t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4 vauhtia eteenp\xc3\xa4in ja survaisi raskaasti h\xc3\xa4nen sormelleen.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kiljaisi, koetti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pystyyn, mutta kompastui j\xc3\xa4lleen, j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4den\r\nmaahan nelin kontin. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n huomasi olevansa r\xc3\xa4hisev\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4kijoukossa eik\xc3\xa4 en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 varasta tavoittamassa. Kaikki riensiv\xc3\xa4t takaisin\r\nkyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4in. H\xc3\xa4n nousi taas, mutta sai ankaran iskun korvansa taakse.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n hoippui ja l\xc3\xa4hti juoksemaan "Vaunuihin ja Hevosiin" takaisin,\r\nhyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en yksin j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neen Huxterin yli, joka oli h\xc3\xa4nen tiell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja oli\r\nnoussut istumaan.\r\n\r\nOllessaan puoliv\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4 majatalon portaita h\xc3\xa4n kuuli takanaan \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\nraivokkaan huudon, joka erottautui selv\xc3\xa4sti yleisest\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nten\r\nsekamelskasta, ja samalla l\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti isku jonkun kasvoja vasten. H\xc3\xa4n tunsi\r\ntuon \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neksi, ja huudossa tuntui tuskallisen\r\niskun aiheuttama \xc3\xa4killinen raivo.\r\n\r\nSeuraavalla hetkell\xc3\xa4 oli Cuss taas vierashuoneessa.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n tuli takaisin, Bunting!" sanoi h\xc3\xa4n hy\xc3\xb6k\xc3\xa4ten sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "Pelastakaa\r\nitsenne!"\r\n\r\nBunting seisoi ikkunan luona koettaen verhota itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n takkamatolla ja\r\n_West Surrey Gazettella_.\r\n\r\n"Kuka tulee?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n niin pel\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen pukunsa tuskin\r\npysyi koossa.\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies!" huusi Cuss ja sy\xc3\xb6ksyi ikkunan luo. "Meid\xc3\xa4n olisi\r\nparasta puikkia t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n tappelee ihan hurjasti! Kuin hullu!"\r\n\r\nSamassa h\xc3\xa4n oli pihalla.\r\n\r\n"Laupias taivas!" huudahti Bunting ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iden kahden hirve\xc3\xa4n vaihtoehdon\r\nv\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n kuuli pelottavaa tappelua majatalon k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, ja h\xc3\xa4nen\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6ksens\xc3\xa4 oli valmis. H\xc3\xa4n kapusi ulos ikkunasta, korjasi kiireesti\r\npukuaan ja pakeni kyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niin nopeasti kuin h\xc3\xa4nen pienet paksut\r\ns\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rens\xc3\xa4 suinkin kannattivat.\r\n\r\nSiit\xc3\xa4 hetkest\xc3\xa4 alkaen, jolloin N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies kiljaisi raivosta ja\r\nBunting suoritti merkillisen pakonsa kyl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, k\xc3\xa4vi mahdottomaksi\r\nj\xc3\xa4rjestyksess\xc3\xa4 kuvata tapausten kulkua Ipingiss\xc3\xa4. Mahdollisesti oli\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen alkuper\xc3\xa4inen tarkoitus vain auttaa Marvelin\r\npakoa vaatteita ja kirjoja viem\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Mutta h\xc3\xa4nen luontonsa, joka ei\r\nmilloinkaan oikein asettunut, n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 perinpohjin kiihtyneen jonkin\r\nsattumalta saadun iskun vaikutuksesta, ja niinp\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n rupesikin iskem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nja paiskelemaan pelk\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ly\xc3\xb6misen halusta.\r\n\r\nKuvailkaa mieless\xc3\xa4nne kyl\xc3\xa4raitti, joka on t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 juoksevia olentoja,\r\novien l\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4htely\xc3\xa4 ja piilopaikkoihin rimpuilemista. Kuvitelkaa metelin\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n yhteen vanhan Fletcherin kahden tuolin varaan asetetun\r\nhorjuvan laudan kanssa -- saaden aikaan kamalan mullistuksen.\r\nAjatelkaa, kuinka kamalasti muuan pari yll\xc3\xa4tettiin kiikussa. Ja sitten\r\non koko melskeinen rynn\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xb6 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttynyt, ja Ipingin katu koristuksineen\r\nja lippuineen on yht\xc3\xa4 raivoavaa n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 lukuunottamatta autio\r\nihmisist\xc3\xa4 ja t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 huiskin haiskin heitettyj\xc3\xa4 kookosp\xc3\xa4hkin\xc3\xb6it\xc3\xa4,\r\nkaatuneita kangasseini\xc3\xa4 ja hajalle lent\xc3\xa4neit\xc3\xa4 makeismyym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n tavaroita.\r\nJoka taholta kuuluu sulkeutuvien luukkujen ja kiinni ty\xc3\xb6nnett\xc3\xa4vien\r\nsalpojen kalinaa, ja ainoa merkki ihmisolennoista on jonkin\r\nikkunaruudun kulmauksessa kohotettujen kulmakarvain alta mahdollisesti\r\nvilahtava silm\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies huvitteli jonkin aikaan s\xc3\xa4rkem\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kaikki ikkunat\r\n"Vaunujen ja Hevosten" majatalossa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n heitti katulampun rouva\r\nGrogramin vierashuoneen ikkunasta sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja varmaan juuri h\xc3\xa4n katkaisi\r\ns\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6lenn\xc3\xa4tinlangan Adderdeaniin Higginsin m\xc3\xb6kin takana Adderdeanin\r\ntien varrella. Senj\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n kokonaan katosi ihmisten n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6piirist\xc3\xa4,\r\nniinkuin vain h\xc3\xa4nen erikoiset ominaisuutensa sallivat, niin ettei h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nsen koommin koskaan n\xc3\xa4hty, kuultu tai tunnettu Ipingiss\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4visi\r\nt\xc3\xa4ydellisesti.\r\n\r\nMutta kesti ainakin pari tuntia, ennenkuin kukaan ihmisolento taas\r\nuskalsi l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 ulos autiolle Ipingin raitille.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKOLMASTOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nMarvel pohtii alistumistaan\r\n\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n laskeutuessa ja Ipingin alkaessa taas kurkistella arasti\r\njuhlap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hajalle j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neit\xc3\xa4 esineit\xc3\xa4, asteli lyhyt, paksu mies,\r\nnukkavieru silkkihattu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, vaivaloisesti Bramblehurstiin viep\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntiet\xc3\xa4 pitkin py\xc3\xb6kkimetsik\xc3\xb6n takana. H\xc3\xa4n kantoi kolmea kirjaa, jotka\r\noli kiinnitetty yhteen jonkinlaisella koristeellisella joustavalla\r\nsiteell\xc3\xa4, ja siniseen p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4liinaan k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ritty\xc3\xa4 mytty\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen punertavilla\r\nkasvoillaan ilmeni h\xc3\xa4mmennyst\xc3\xa4 ja v\xc3\xa4symyst\xc3\xa4, ja h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytti olevan\r\noikein tulinen kiire. H\xc3\xa4nen takanaan seurasi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, toinen kuin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen omansa, ja tuontuostakin h\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntelehti n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mien k\xc3\xa4sien\r\nkosketuksesta.\r\n\r\n"Jos taas yrit\xc3\xa4tte pujahtaa k\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4ni", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "jos vain yrit\xc3\xa4tte\r\ntaas pujahtaa k\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4ni..."\r\n\r\n"Voi hitto!" sanoi Thomas Marvel. "Olette ly\xc3\xb6nyt siihen olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ni\r\nmonta ruhjevammaa."\r\n\r\n"Kautta kunniani", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "min\xc3\xa4 vaikka tapan teid\xc3\xa4t".\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4 koettanut pujahtaa k\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4nne", sanoi Marvel \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4, josta\r\nkyyneleet eiv\xc3\xa4t olleet kaukana. "Vannon, etten koettanut. Min\xc3\xa4 en\r\ntiennyt sit\xc3\xa4 kirottua tienristeyst\xc3\xa4, siin\xc3\xa4 kaikki! Kuinka lemmossa min\xc3\xa4\r\nsen olisin tiennyt? Ja nyt on minua kolhittu..."\r\n\r\n"Teit\xc3\xa4 kolhitaan viel\xc3\xa4 paljon enemm\xc3\xa4n, jollette muista, mit\xc3\xa4 olen\r\nsanonut", virkkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, ja Thomas Marvel vaikeni \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n puhalsi\r\nposkensa pullolleen, ja h\xc3\xa4nen silmiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ilmeni selv\xc3\xa4sti ep\xc3\xa4toivoa.\r\n\r\n"Se on jo kyllin paha, ett\xc3\xa4 reistailevat moukat kuuluttavat julki minun\r\npikku salaisuuttani; puuttuisi viel\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 te livist\xc3\xa4isitte pakoon ja\r\nveisitte kirjani. Ainakin muutamille heist\xc3\xa4 oli onneksi, ett\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nkarkuun sellaisella vauhdilla. T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 nyt olen... Ei kukaan tiennyt,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 olen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n! Ja mit\xc3\xa4 minun nyt on teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 on _minun_ teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Thomas Marvel matalalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Se tiedet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kaikkialla. Se pannaan sanomalehtiin! Jokainen odottaa\r\ntapaavansa minut. Jokainen on varuillaan..."\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni puhkesi voimakkaisiin kirouksiin ja vaikeni sitten. Thomas\r\nMarvelin kasvoilla k\xc3\xa4vi ep\xc3\xa4toivo yh\xc3\xa4 selvemm\xc3\xa4ksi, ja h\xc3\xa4nen askeleensa\r\nhiljeniv\xc3\xa4t.\r\n\r\n"K\xc3\xa4velk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vain", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvelin kasvoille levisi harmahtava v\xc3\xa4ri punertavien pilkkujen\r\nv\xc3\xa4liin.\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pudottako niit\xc3\xa4 kirjoja, tomppeli!" huusi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni kovaa.\r\n\r\n"Asian laita on n\xc3\xa4in", jatkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "ett\xc3\xa4 minun on k\xc3\xa4ytett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 teit\xc3\xa4\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4kseni... Te olette tosin kehno v\xc3\xa4likappale, mutta minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 olen _kurja_ v\xc3\xa4likappale", sanoi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Niin olette", my\xc3\xb6nsi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 olen huonoin v\xc3\xa4likappale, mink\xc3\xa4 olisitte voinut saada", jatkoi\r\nMarvel.\r\n\r\n"En ole vahva", lis\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4n masentavan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6myyden j\xc3\xa4lkeen.\r\n\r\n"En ole kovin vahva", toisti h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Ettek\xc3\xb6?"\r\n\r\n"Ja syd\xc3\xa4meni on heikko. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 pikku puuha... Min\xc3\xa4 suoritin sen tietysti.\r\nMutta hitto vie! Olisin voinut py\xc3\xb6rty\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 sitten?"\r\n\r\n"Ei minulla ole hermoja eik\xc3\xa4 voimaa senlaatuiseen ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6n kuin te\r\ntarvitsette..."\r\n\r\n"_Min\xc3\xa4_ karaisen teid\xc3\xa4t."\r\n\r\n"Toivoisinpa, ettette niin tekisi. En tahtoisi n\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4s pilata teid\xc3\xa4n\r\nsuunnitelmianne. Mutta niin voisi k\xc3\xa4yd\xc3\xa4. Pelk\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pelosta ja h\xc3\xa4d\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Parasta on, ett\xc3\xa4 kartatte sit\xc3\xa4", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni tyynen pontevasti.\r\n\r\n"Tahtoisin olla kuollut", virkkoi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ei ole oikein", lis\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4n. "Teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy my\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4... Minulla on\r\nmielest\xc3\xa4ni t\xc3\xa4ysi oikeus..."\r\n\r\n"_Kulkekaa_ eteenp\xc3\xa4in", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel paransi vauhtiaan, ja jonkun aikaa he marssivat taas\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on viet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n kovaa", huomautti Marvel.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen sanansa eiv\xc3\xa4t tehneet mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vaikutusta. H\xc3\xa4n teki uuden yrityksen.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 minua t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tarvitaan?" aloitti h\xc3\xa4n taas siet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ryytt\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4rsiv\xc3\xa4n miehen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Oh, _lakatkaa_ jo!" sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n pontevasti.\r\n"Pid\xc3\xa4nh\xc3\xa4n min\xc3\xa4 teist\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ydellisesti huolta. Tehk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, niinkuin olen\r\nk\xc3\xa4skenyt. Silloin menettelette oikein. Te olette hupsu ja niin\r\npoisp\xc3\xa4in, mutta teid\xc3\xa4n on teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Sanon teille, hyv\xc3\xa4 herra, etten ole sopiva mies siihen. Kunnioittaen\r\n-- mutta niin sen laita _on_..."\r\n\r\n"Jollette nyt vaikene, niin v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4n ranteenne taas paikaltaan", sanoi\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "Min\xc3\xa4 tahdon ajatella."\r\n\r\nPian ilmestyi kaksi keltaista valosoikiota n\xc3\xa4kyviin puiden l\xc3\xa4pi, ja\r\nkirkon nelikulmainen torni h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xb6itti pimeyden takaa. "Min\xc3\xa4 pid\xc3\xa4n\r\nk\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4ni olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4nne", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "koko kyl\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4pi. Astukaa suoraan\r\neteenp\xc3\xa4in \xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4 yritt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 ryhty\xc3\xa4 mihink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hullutuksiin. Sen pahempi\r\nvain teille, jos sellaista koetatte."\r\n\r\n"Kyll\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n min\xc3\xa4 sen tied\xc3\xa4n", huoahti Marvel, "tied\xc3\xa4n tuon kaiken".\r\n\r\nOnnettoman n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen olento, jolla oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vanhanaikainen\r\nsilkkihattu, marssi taakkoineen pitkin pikku kyl\xc3\xa4n raittia ja katosi\r\nikkunoiden valojen takana lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pimeyteen.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nNELJ\xc3\x84STOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nPort Stowessa\r\n\r\n\r\nKello kymmenen seuraavana aamuna istui Thomas Marvel, parta\r\najamattomana, likaisena ja matkan tahraamana, k\xc3\xa4det syv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 taskuissa,\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4en hyvin v\xc3\xa4syneelt\xc3\xa4, hermostuneelta ja levottomalta ja tuon\r\ntuostakin pullistaen poskiaan Port Stowessa er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n laitapuolella olevan\r\nkapakan ulkopenkill\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen vieress\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n lojuivat kirjat, jotka nyt oli\r\nsidottu yhteen nuoralla. Vaatemytyn h\xc3\xa4n oli j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt Bramblehurstin\r\ntakana havumets\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, koska N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies oli muuttanut suunnitelmiaan.\r\nThomas Marvel istui penkill\xc3\xa4, ja vaikkei kukaan v\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 tarkastellut, oli h\xc3\xa4nen kiintymyksens\xc3\xa4 kuumeentapaista. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\nk\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 sujahtivat tavantakaa eri taskuihin omituisen hermostuneesti\r\nkopeloiden.\r\n\r\nMutta kun h\xc3\xa4n oli siin\xc3\xa4 istunut melkein tunnin, tuli ravintolasta\r\nulos vanhanpuoleinen merimies sanomalehti k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4 ja istuutui h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nviereens\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Kaunis p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4", sanoi merimies.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel katsahti h\xc3\xa4neen ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin kauhistuneena. "Hyvinkin",\r\nmy\xc3\xb6nsi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Oikein sopiva ilma t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n vuodenaikaan", sanoi merimies v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\r\ntoisen v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4puheisuudesta.\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin", sanoi Marvel.\r\n\r\nMerimies veti esille hammastikun ja (pelastaen arvonsa) puuhaili sen\r\nkanssa joitakin minuutteja. Sill\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4lin saattoivat h\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nvapaasti tarkastella Thomas Marvelin p\xc3\xb6lyist\xc3\xa4 olemusta ja h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nvieress\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olevia kirjoja. L\xc3\xa4hestyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Marvelia h\xc3\xa4n oli kuullut\r\nsentapaista \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kuin olisi rahoja hel\xc3\xa4hdellyt taskuun. H\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytti se vastakohta, jonka saattoi huomata Thomas Marvelin\r\nulkomuodon ja hyvinvointiin viittaavan seikan v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4. Siit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen\r\najatuksensa j\xc3\xa4lleen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi siihen keskusteluaiheeseen, joka oli\r\ntakertunut niin omituisen lujasti h\xc3\xa4nen mielikuvitukseensa.\r\n\r\n"Kirjoja?" sanoi h\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, lopettaen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nekk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sti hammastikun\r\nk\xc3\xa4sittelemisen.\r\n\r\nMarvel s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4hti ja vilkaisi niihin. "Aivan niin", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Niin, ne\r\novat kirjoja."\r\n\r\n"Kirjoissa on kerrassaan kummallisia juttuja", virkkoi merimies.\r\n\r\n"Lienette oikeassa", my\xc3\xb6nsi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Ja per\xc3\xa4ti kummallisia juttuja niiden ulkopuolellakin", lis\xc3\xa4si merimies.\r\n\r\n"Se on totta", sanoi Marvel. H\xc3\xa4n katseli puhetoveriaan ja silm\xc3\xa4ili\r\nsitten ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen.\r\n\r\n"Sanomalehdiss\xc3\xa4kin esimerkiksi on oikein ihmeellisi\xc3\xa4 asioita", jatkoi\r\nmerimies.\r\n\r\n"Niinp\xc3\xa4 on."\r\n\r\n"_T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4_", sanoi merimies.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4h!" huudahti Marvel.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on er\xc3\xa4s kertomus", sanoi merimies tarkastellen Marvelia tuikein\r\nja varovaisin katsein, "t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 esimerkiksi on kertomus N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nMiehest\xc3\xa4".\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel veti suunsa vinoon, raapi poskeaan ja tunsi korviensa\r\nhehkuvan. "Mist\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ne semmoisia kirjoittavat?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n heikosti.\r\n"It\xc3\xa4vallasta vai Amerikasta?"\r\n\r\n"Ei kummastakaan", vastasi merimies. "_T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4_."\r\n\r\n"Hitto!" huudahti Thomas Marvel s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en.\r\n\r\n"Kun sanon _t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4_," sanoi merimies Marvelin suureksi huojennukseksi,\r\n"en tietenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tarkoita t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 paikasta, vaan n\xc3\xa4ilt\xc3\xa4 seuduilta".\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies!" sanoi Marvel. "No mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on hommannut?"\r\n\r\n"Kaikenn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4", vastasi merimies tarkastellen Marvelia ja lis\xc3\xa4si\r\nsitten mahtavasti: "kaikenlaisia kirottuja asioita".\r\n\r\n"En ole nelj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4hnyt sanomalehti\xc3\xa4", huomautti Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Ipingiss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n aloitti", selitti merimies.\r\n\r\n"Jopa nyt jotakin!" sanoi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Siell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n aloitti. Eik\xc3\xa4 kukaan n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4 tiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n, mist\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tuli. T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nsanotaan: \'Omituinen juttu Ipingist\xc3\xa4.\' Ja t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 lehdess\xc3\xa4 sanotaan, ett\xc3\xa4\r\ntodistukset ovat harvinaisen luotettavat, harvinaisen."\r\n\r\n"Lempo soikoon!" huudahti Thomas Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Ja se on kerrassaan kumma juttu. Er\xc3\xa4s pappi ja l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4ri ovat\r\ntodistajina -- he n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4net t\xc3\xa4ydellisesti -- tai ainakin -- olivat\r\nn\xc3\xa4kem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n asusti, niin sanotaan, \'Vaunuissa ja Hevosissa\', eik\xc3\xa4\r\nkukaan n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4 huomanneen h\xc3\xa4nen onnettomuuttaan, sanotaan, huomanneen\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen onnettomuuttaan, ennenkuin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 mellakassa majatalossa,\r\nsanotaan, h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 siteet revittiin irti. Silloin havaittiin, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 oli n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Paikalla yritettiin ottaa h\xc3\xa4net kiinni,\r\nmutta h\xc3\xa4nen onnistui heitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 vaatteensa pois p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pakoon. Sit\xc3\xa4\r\nennen oli hurja tappelu, jossa h\xc3\xa4n tuotti vaikeita vammoja, sanotaan,\r\nmeid\xc3\xa4n arvokkaalle kelpo konstaapelillemme, herra J. A. Jaffersille.\r\nKerrassaan selv\xc3\xa4 juttu, vai mit\xc3\xa4? Nimet ja kaikki."\r\n\r\n"Voi hitto!" huudahti Thomas Marvel katsellen hermostuneesti\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen ja koettaen laskea rahoja taskuissaan vain tunnustelemalla\r\nniit\xc3\xa4, kokonaan er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n uuden ja omituisen ajatuksen vallassa. "Sep\xc3\xa4\r\nkuulostaa h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 kuulostakin? Eriskummaiselta, sanoisin _min\xc3\xa4_. En ole milloinkaan\r\nennen kuullut puhuttavan N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Miehest\xc3\xa4, enp\xc3\xa4 tosiaankaan,\r\nmutta nyky\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuulee niin merkillisi\xc3\xa4 asioita, ett\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Onko siin\xc3\xa4 kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n teki?" kysyi Marvel koettaen n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nhuolettomalta.\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 siin\xc3\xa4 sitten ole kylliksi?" sanoi merimies.\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 h\xc3\xa4n mahdollisesti tullut takaisin?" kysyi Marvel. "L\xc3\xa4hti vain\r\npakoon, ja siin\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 kaikki, vai mit\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Kaikki", vastasi merimies... "Eik\xc3\xb6 se nyt riit\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Riitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n toki", my\xc3\xb6nsi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Luulisinpa siin\xc3\xa4 olevan kylliksi", vahvisti merimies. "Luulisinpa\r\ntosiaankin olevan."\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kaveria -- ei suinkaan siin\xc3\xa4 puhuta mist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nkaverista, vai?" kysyi Marvel levottomana.\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 teille riit\xc3\xa4 yksikin sit\xc3\xa4 lajia?" kysyi merimies. "Ei, Luojan\r\nkiitos, niinkuin sanotaan, kaveria h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ei ollut."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ny\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si hitaasti. "Min\xc3\xa4 tulen suorastaan levottomaksi jo\r\npelk\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ajatellessani, ett\xc3\xa4 se vekkuli kuljeskelee n\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4\r\ntienoin! H\xc3\xa4n on nyt vapaalla jalalla, ja varmoista merkeist\xc3\xa4\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en otaksutaan, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on l\xc3\xa4htenyt -- _l\xc3\xa4hti_, luulen\r\nheid\xc3\xa4n tarkoittavan, Port Stoween p\xc3\xa4in. Me olemme n\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4s nyt ihan\r\nhelisem\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4! T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ei ole mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n nykyajan amerikkalainen ihme. Ja kun\r\najattelee, mit\xc3\xa4 kaikkea h\xc3\xa4n voisi tehd\xc3\xa4! Milt\xc3\xa4 tuntuisi, jos h\xc3\xa4n\r\nputkahtaisi t\xc3\xa4nne ja saisi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 tavoittaa teit\xc3\xa4? Ajatelkaapa, jos\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 haluttaisi ry\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 -- kuka voisi est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4? H\xc3\xa4n voi tunkeutua\r\nminne tahansa, tehd\xc3\xa4 murtovarkauksia, marssia poliisiketjun l\xc3\xa4pi yht\xc3\xa4\r\nhelposti kuin min\xc3\xa4 ja te voisimme pujahtaa sokean miehen k\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4!\r\nHelpomminkin! Sill\xc3\xa4 olen kuullut, ett\xc3\xa4 sokeat kuulevat tavattoman\r\ntarkasti. Ja jos h\xc3\xa4n haluaisi jotakin ryyp\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on tosiaankin kauhea etu puolellaan", sanoi Marvel. "Ja --\r\nsitten..."\r\n\r\n"Olette oikeassa", virkkoi merimies, "h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on".\r\n\r\nKoko t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n ajan oli Thomas Marvel katsellut j\xc3\xa4nnittyneen\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen,\r\nkuunnellen heikkoa askelten kaikua ja koettaen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 selville\r\nhuomaamattomista liikkeist\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti olevan tekem\xc3\xa4isill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n suuren\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6ksen ja ysk\xc3\xa4hti kouraansa.\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n taas vilkuili ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen -- kuunteli -- kumartui\r\nmerimieheen p\xc3\xa4in ja alensi \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Asia on niin, ett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 sattumalta tied\xc3\xa4n parisen seikkaa tuosta\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 miehest\xc3\xa4. Yksityisist\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hteist\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Oh", sanoi merimies. "_Tek\xc3\xb6_?"\r\n\r\n"Niin", vastasi Thomas Marvel, "min\xc3\xa4".\r\n\r\n"Jopa nyt jotakin!" huudahti merimies. "Ja saanko kysy\xc3\xa4...?"\r\n\r\n"Te h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytte varmasti", sanoi Thomas Marvel k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 suojassa... "Se\r\non hirve\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Oikeinko totta?" kysyi merimies.\r\n\r\n"Asia on niin", jatkoi Marvel kiihke\xc3\xa4sti, alentaen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntuttavallisesti. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen ilmeens\xc3\xa4 muuttui h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti. "Au!"\r\nhuudahti h\xc3\xa4n. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n nousi j\xc3\xa4yk\xc3\xa4sti seisomaan. H\xc3\xa4nen kasvoillaan\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyi selv\xc3\xa4sti ruumiillista k\xc3\xa4rsimyst\xc3\xa4. "Voi!" huusi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4 nyt tuli?" kysyi merimies huolestuneesti.\r\n\r\n"Hammass\xc3\xa4rky", vastasi Marvel ja nosti k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 korvan kohdalle. Sitten\r\nh\xc3\xa4n otti kirjat. "Luulenpa, ett\xc3\xa4 minun on nyt l\xc3\xa4hdett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vet\xc3\xa4ytyi omituisesti kauemmaksi puhetoveristaan penkill\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Mutta teh\xc3\xa4n aioitte juuri ruveta kertomaan minulle tuosta\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Miehest\xc3\xa4", vastusteli merimies.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel n\xc3\xa4ytti harkitsevan.\r\n\r\n"Pilaa vain", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Se on pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pilaa", virkkoi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Mutta siit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kerrotaan sanomalehdess\xc3\xa4", huomautti merimies.\r\n\r\n"Sittenkin se on pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lorua", v\xc3\xa4itti Marvel. "Tunnen sen miehen,\r\njoka pani valheen liikkeelle. Ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 ole olemassa...\r\nHitto minut viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n."\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuinka sitten tuossa sanomalehdess\xc3\xa4? Aiotteko sanoa, ett\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Aion", sanoi Thomas Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Miksi sitten annoitte minun kertoa teille kaikkea tuota hiton lorua?\r\nMit\xc3\xa4 te sill\xc3\xa4 tarkoitatte, ett\xc3\xa4 annatte miehen k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4yty\xc3\xa4 hupsun\r\ntavalla, h\xc3\xa4h?"\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel puhalsi ilman ulos poskistaan. Merimies olikin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\nlehahtanut hyvin punaiseksi. H\xc3\xa4n puristi k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 nyrkkiin. "Olen\r\npuhunut t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kymmenen minuuttia", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n, "ja te, te pieni\r\npaksunahkainen, nahkanaamainen vanha saapasr\xc3\xa4hj\xc3\xa4, ette ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4 edes\r\nihan alkeellisia k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xb6stapoja..."\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 kinastelko _minun_ kanssani", sanoi Marvel.\r\n\r\n"Kinastelko! Oikeinpa minua haluttaisi..."\r\n\r\n"Tulkaa pois", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, ja Thomas Marvel k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4hti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4hti astelemaan omituisella, nytk\xc3\xa4htelev\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 tavalla.\r\n\r\n"Teid\xc3\xa4n olisi paras jatkaa matkaanne", huomautti merimies.\r\n\r\n"Kuka jatkaa matkaansa?" sanoi Marvel. H\xc3\xa4n per\xc3\xa4ytyi viistoon\r\nomituisesti kiirehtien, silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en rajusti eteenp\xc3\xa4in.\r\nP\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n jonkun matkaa tiet\xc3\xa4 eteenp\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4n alkoi mutista yksikseen,\r\nlausua vastav\xc3\xa4itteit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja syyt\xc3\xb6ksi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Tyhm\xc3\xa4 tomppeli", sanoi merimies katsellen v\xc3\xa4istyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olentoa s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ret\r\nhajallaan ja k\xc3\xa4det puuskassa. "Min\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 opetan sinut, tyhmyri, pilkkamaan\r\n_minua!_ T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 se on sanomalehdess\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel vastasi jotakin sekavaa ja katosi loitotessaan tien\r\nmutkan taakse, mutta merimies seisoi yh\xc3\xa4 mahtavana keskell\xc3\xa4 tiet\xc3\xa4,\r\nkunnes h\xc3\xa4nen oli v\xc3\xa4istett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 teurastajan l\xc3\xa4henevi\xc3\xa4 vankkureita. Sitten\r\nh\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi Port Stoween p\xc3\xa4in. "T\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 eriskummaisinta hupsuutta",\r\nvirkkoi h\xc3\xa4n hiljaa itsekseen. "H\xc3\xa4nen tyhm\xc3\xa4 tarkoituksensa oli v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nnolata minua... Lehdess\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n niin sanotaan!"\r\n\r\nPian h\xc3\xa4n sai kuulla toisen ihmeellisen asian, joka oli tapahtunut\r\naivan h\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Oli nimitt\xc3\xa4in n\xc3\xa4hty "nyrkki t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 rahaa" ilman\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 liikkeellepanevaa voimaa kulkemassa pitkin sein\xc3\xa4nviert\xc3\xa4\r\nPyh\xc3\xa4n Mikaelin tien kulmauksessa. Er\xc3\xa4s merimies oli juuri samana\r\naamuna n\xc3\xa4hnyt t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n ihmeellisen n\xc3\xa4yn. H\xc3\xa4n oli heti koettanut siepata\r\nrahoja, mutta lent\xc3\xa4nyt suinp\xc3\xa4in kumoon, ja kun h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4lleen oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt\r\njaloilleen, olivat perhosrahat h\xc3\xa4vinneet. Meid\xc3\xa4n merimiehemme selitti\r\nvoivansa uskoa mit\xc3\xa4 tahansa, mutta tuo oli sent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n _liian_\r\npaksua. Mutta j\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4n alkoi sit\xc3\xa4 mietti\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nJuttu lent\xc3\xa4vist\xc3\xa4 rahoista oli tosi. Kaikkialta l\xc3\xa4hist\xc3\xb6lt\xc3\xa4, jopa\r\nkunnioitettavalta Lontoon ja Piirikunnan pankkiyhti\xc3\xb6lt\xc3\xa4, myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xb6iden ja\r\nravintoloiden kassalaatikoista -- ovet olivat n\xc3\xa4in auringonpaisteisena\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 selkosel\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- oli rahaa kadonnut hiljaa ja taitavasti\r\nkourallisittain ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6itt\xc3\xa4in, liit\xc3\xa4en kaikessa rauhassa pitkin\r\nsein\xc3\xa4nvieri\xc3\xa4 ja varjoisia paikkoja, luiskahtaen nopeasti n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4\r\nihmisten l\xc3\xa4hestyess\xc3\xa4. Kukaan ei ollut seurannut sen kulkua, mutta joka\r\nkerta oli salaper\xc3\xa4inen lento p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttynyt sen levottoman miehen taskuihin,\r\njoka istui Port Stowen laitapuolella kapakan ulkopuolella, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nvanhanaikainen silkkihattu.\r\n\r\nKymment\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 my\xc3\xb6hemmin -- ja vasta sitten kun Burdockin juttu oli jo\r\nvanha -- vertasi merimies n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 seikkoja kesken\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja alkoi ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nkuinka l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli ollut ihmeellist\xc3\xa4 N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 Miest\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nVIIDESTOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nJuokseva mies\r\n\r\n\r\nVarhaisena iltahetken\xc3\xa4 istui tohtori Kemp ty\xc3\xb6huoneessaan\r\npuistorakennuksessa kukkulalla, josta on n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6ala yli Burdockin.\r\nSe oli hauska pikku huone, jossa oli kolme ikkunaa -- pohjoiseen,\r\nl\xc3\xa4nteen ja etel\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- ja kirjahyllyj\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 kirjoja ja tieteellisi\xc3\xa4\r\njulkaisuja. Siell\xc3\xa4 oli my\xc3\xb6s suuri kirjoitusp\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4, mikroskooppi,\r\nlasilevyj\xc3\xa4, pieni\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6kapineita, muutamia koeviljelyksi\xc3\xa4 ja eri\r\npaikoissa reagenssipulloja. Tohtori Kempin aurinkolamppu paloi, vaikka\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nlasku viel\xc3\xa4 valaisikin taivaanlakea, ja h\xc3\xa4nen ikkunankaihtimensa\r\nolivat ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, koska ei ulkona ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kurkistelijoita, joiden\r\nvuoksi olisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt vet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ne alas. Tohtori Kemp oli pitk\xc3\xa4 ja hoikka\r\nnuori mies, jolla oli pellavankarvainen tukka ja melkein valkeat\r\nviikset. Ty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4, jota h\xc3\xa4n paraikaa valmisteli, h\xc3\xa4n piti niin arvokkaana,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 toivoi sen hankkivan h\xc3\xa4nelle Kuninkaallisen Seuran j\xc3\xa4senyyden.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4, kun h\xc3\xa4n nyt kohotti ne ty\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4, n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t auringonlaskun\r\nliekehtiv\xc3\xa4n sen kukkulan takarinnett\xc3\xa4 vasten, joka on vastap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nomaa kukkulaansa. Minuutin verran h\xc3\xa4n ehk\xc3\xa4 istui kyn\xc3\xa4 suussa ihaillen\r\nharjanteen yl\xc3\xa4puolella n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 voimakasta kullan v\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4. Sitten h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nhuomiotaan kiinnitti er\xc3\xa4s pieni sysimusta miehen hahmo, joka juoksi\r\npitkin kukkulan rinnett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti. Se oli lyhyehk\xc3\xb6 mies, jolla oli\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n korkea hattu ja joka juoksi niin nopeasti, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rens\xc3\xa4\r\nihan vilahtelivat. "Joku toinen samanlainen aasi", sanoi tohtori Kemp.\r\n"Samanlainen kuin se, joka nurkan takaa juoksi t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 aamuna suinp\xc3\xa4in\r\nminuun kiinni huutaen: \'N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies tulee, herra!\' En ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4, mik\xc3\xa4\r\nihmisi\xc3\xa4 villitsee. Voisi melkein luulla el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 kolmannellatoista\r\nvuosisadalla."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n nousi, astui ikkunan luo ja t\xc3\xa4hysti h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vuorenrinnett\xc3\xa4 ja\r\ntummaa pikku olentoa kohti, joka sy\xc3\xb6ksyi kovaa vauhtia sit\xc3\xa4 alas.\r\n"H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olevan viet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kiire", sanoi tohtori Kemp, "mutta\r\nei n\xc3\xa4y p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sev\xc3\xa4n paljon eteenp\xc3\xa4in. Jos h\xc3\xa4nen taskunsa olisivat t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4\r\nlyijy\xc3\xa4, ei h\xc3\xa4n voisi juosta raskaammin."\r\n\r\n"Ponnista vain, miekkonen!" virkkoi tohtori Kemp.\r\n\r\nPian oli korkeampi niist\xc3\xa4 huviloista, jotka olivat kiivenneet\r\nBurdockista yl\xc3\xb6s kukkulalle, peitt\xc3\xa4nyt juoksijan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n taas\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyi hetkisen ja uudestaankin, kolme kertaa, l\xc3\xa4hinn\xc3\xa4 olevien kolmen\r\nerillisen talon v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4, ennenkuin pengerm\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4tki h\xc3\xa4net.\r\n\r\n"Aasit", sanoi tohtori Kemp k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyen kantap\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja astellen takaisin\r\nkirjoitusp\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 luokse.\r\n\r\nMutta ne, jotka n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t karkurin l\xc3\xa4hemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja huomasivat toivottoman\r\nkauhun h\xc3\xa4nen hike\xc3\xa4 tihkuvilla kasvoillaan, kun itse olivat avoimella\r\ntiell\xc3\xa4, eiv\xc3\xa4t halveksineet h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 niinkuin tohtori. Mies oli l\xc3\xb6ylyss\xc3\xa4\r\nja kilisi juostessaan kuin t\xc3\xa4ysin\xc3\xa4inen rahakukkaro, jota heitell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsinne t\xc3\xa4nne. H\xc3\xa4n ei katsellut oikealle eik\xc3\xa4 vasemmalle, vaan h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nlaajentuneet silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 tuijottivat suoraan alas rinnett\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4\r\nsytytettiin lamppuja ja ihmisi\xc3\xa4 ker\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi tielle. H\xc3\xa4nen rumamuotoinen\r\nsuunsa levisi, munanvalkuaisen tapainen vaahto pursui h\xc3\xa4nen huulilleen\r\nja h\xc3\xa4nen hengityksens\xc3\xa4 kuului k\xc3\xa4he\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nekk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. Kaikki, joiden ohi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n kulki, pys\xc3\xa4htyiv\xc3\xa4t ja alkoivat tuijottaa kumpaankin suuntaan pitkin\r\ntiet\xc3\xa4 ja kysell\xc3\xa4 toisiltaan v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n levottomina, mik\xc3\xa4 oli syyn\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nkiireeseen.\r\n\r\nSilloin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ulvahti ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kukkulalla koira ja juoksi tielt\xc3\xa4 portin\r\nalle, ja kun he yh\xc3\xa4 ihmetteliv\xc3\xa4t, kohahti ohi jokin -- kuin tuuli --\r\npuh, puh, puh, ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 hengitys.\r\n\r\nIhmiset kirkaisivat ja sy\xc3\xb6ks\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t katukivitykselt\xc3\xa4. He rynt\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t\r\nhuutaen vaistonsa vet\xc3\xa4min\xc3\xa4 alas kukkulan rinnett\xc3\xa4. He kiljuivat\r\nkadulla, ennenkuin Marvel oli siell\xc3\xa4 puoliv\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. He sulkeutuivat\r\ntaloihin, paukauttivat ovet kiinni takanaan ja julistivat uutistaan.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kuuli sen ja teki viimeisen ep\xc3\xa4toivoisen ponnistuksen. Pelko kulki\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen rinnallaan, sy\xc3\xb6ks\xc3\xa4hti h\xc3\xa4nen edell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkin ja oli hetkess\xc3\xa4 vallannut\r\nkoko kaupungin.\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies tulee! _N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies!"_\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKUUDESTOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\n"Hauskojen Kriketinpelaajien" ravintolassa\r\n\r\n\r\nSen kukkulan juurella, mist\xc3\xa4 raitiotie alkaa, on "Hauskat\r\nKriketinpelaajat" niminen ravintola. Is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 nojasi lihavia punaisia\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivarsiaan myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja puheli hevosista n\xc3\xa4ivettyneen ajurin\r\nkanssa, samalla kun mustapartainen harmaapukuinen mies pureskeli\r\nkorppuja ja juustoa, ryypiskeli Burton-olutta ja jutteli Amerikan\r\nmurteella er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n toimesta vapaana olevan poliisin kanssa.\r\n\r\n"Mist\xc3\xa4 tuo kiljuminen johtuu?" kysyi n\xc3\xa4ivettynyt ajuri l\xc3\xa4htien\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 liikkeelle ja koettaen n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 kukkulalle matalan ikkunan\r\nlikaisenkeltaisen kaihtimen yli. Joku juoksi ohitse ulkona.\r\n\r\n"Ehk\xc3\xa4 on tulipalo", huomautti ravintoloitsija.\r\n\r\nAskeleita l\xc3\xa4hestyi, raskaita juoksuaskeleita, ovi ty\xc3\xb6nnettiin\r\nauki kovalla vauhdilla, ja sis\xc3\xa4lle sy\xc3\xb6ksyi Marvel m\xc3\xa4rk\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nvaatteet ep\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rjestyksess\xc3\xa4. Hattu oli pudonnut h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja\r\ntakin kaulus oli rev\xc3\xa4isty rikki. Sis\xc3\xa4lle p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4hti\r\nsuonenvedontapaisesti ja koetti sulkea ovea. Sit\xc3\xa4 piti raollaan hihna.\r\n\r\n"Tulee!" huusi h\xc3\xa4n, \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen vavistessa kauhusta. "H\xc3\xa4n tulee. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nMies! Minun j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4ni. Jumalan t\xc3\xa4hden auttakaa, auttakaa!"\r\n\r\n"Sulkekaa ovet", sanoi poliisi. "Kuka tulee? Mist\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 meteli?" H\xc3\xa4n\r\nmeni ovelle, irroitti hihnan, ja ovi paukahti kiinni. Amerikkalainen\r\nsulki toisen oven.\r\n\r\n"Antakaa minun menn\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4lle", sanoi Marvel horjahdellen ja itkien,\r\nmutta pit\xc3\xa4en yh\xc3\xa4 kirjoja kainalossaan. "Antakaa minun menn\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4lle.\r\nSulkekaa minut jonnekin. Uskokaa minua, h\xc3\xa4n on kintereill\xc3\xa4ni. Pujahdin\r\npakoon h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n sanoi tappavansa minut, ja sen h\xc3\xa4n tekeekin."\r\n\r\n"Te olette turvassa", virkkoi mustapartainen mies. "Ovi on suljettu.\r\nMit\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oikein merkitsee?"\r\n\r\n"Antakaa minun menn\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4lle", pyysi Marvel ja kiljaisi kovasti, kun\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 kuului isku, joka sai lukitun oven tutisemaan. Sit\xc3\xa4 seurasi\r\nkiireinen koputus ja huuto ulkopuolelta.\r\n\r\n"Halloo", huusi poliisi, "kuka siell\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel alkoi tehd\xc3\xa4 mielett\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4 kyykistyksi\xc3\xa4 sein\xc3\xa4laudoitusta\r\nvastaan, joka n\xc3\xa4ytti ovelta. "H\xc3\xa4n tappaa minut -- h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on veitsi tai\r\njotakin sellaista. Jumalan t\xc3\xa4hden...!"\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n te olette", sanoi ravintoloitsija. "Tulkaahan t\xc3\xa4nne." Ja h\xc3\xa4n\r\npiti koholla tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xb6levy\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel sy\xc3\xb6ksyi tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taakse, kun ulkoa kuului\r\nuudistettu sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4syvaatimus. "\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 avatko ovea", huusi h\xc3\xa4n. "_Olkaa\r\nniin hyv\xc3\xa4_, \xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 avatko. _Minne_ min\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4tkeydyn?"\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6, t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 siis on N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies?" kysyi mustapartainen mies,\r\ntoinen k\xc3\xa4si sel\xc3\xa4n takana. "Onpa jo aika meid\xc3\xa4nkin n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net."\r\n\r\nRavintolan ikkuna ly\xc3\xb6tiin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 puhki, ja kadulla huudettiin ja\r\njuostiin edestakaisin. Poliisi oli seisonut rahilla ja tuijottanut\r\nulos, koettaen n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 kuka oli oven takana. H\xc3\xa4n laskeutui kulmakarvat\r\nkoholla. "H\xc3\xa4n se on", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n. Ravintoloitsija seisoi vierashuoneen\r\noven edess\xc3\xa4, joka oli nyt lukittu Thomas Marvelin j\xc3\xa4lkeen, tuijotti\r\ns\xc3\xa4rjettyyn ikkunaan ja tuli molempien toisten miesten luo.\r\n\r\nKaikki oli \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4ynyt hiljaiseksi. "Jospa minulla olisi patukkani",\r\nsanoi poliisi mennen ep\xc3\xa4varmasti ovelle. "Kun me kerran avaamme, tulee\r\nh\xc3\xa4n sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ei h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 voi pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 kovin kiirehtik\xc3\xb6 tuota ovea avaamaan", sanoi n\xc3\xa4ivettynyt ajuri\r\nlevottomasti.\r\n\r\n"Vet\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 salvat syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", virkkoi mustapartainen mies, "ja jos h\xc3\xa4n\r\ntulee..." H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olevaa revolveria.\r\n\r\n"Se ei k\xc3\xa4y p\xc3\xa4ins\xc3\xa4", v\xc3\xa4itti poliisi. "Siit\xc3\xa4 tulisi murha."\r\n\r\n"Tied\xc3\xa4n kyll\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 maassa olen", vastasi partaniekka. "Min\xc3\xa4 laukaisen\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4riins\xc3\xa4. Vet\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 salvat pois."\r\n\r\n"En, kun tuo kapine on takanani", vastasi ravintoloitsija, joka\r\nkurkisteli ikkunankaihtimen yli.\r\n\r\n"Sama se", sanoi mustapartainen mies ja kumartuen, revolveri valmiina,\r\nveti ne itse syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ravintoloitsija, ajuri ja poliisi tekiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nt\xc3\xa4ysk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6ksen.\r\n\r\n"Tulkaa sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", sanoi partaniekka matalalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 astuen syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nkatsellen pistooli sel\xc3\xa4n takana salvattomiin oviin. Ei kukaan tullut\r\nsis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ovi pysyi suljettuna. Viiden minuutin kuluttua, kun toinen\r\najuri ty\xc3\xb6nsi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 varovasti sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, he odottivat yh\xc3\xa4, ja er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\r\nlevottomat kasvot kysyiv\xc3\xa4t tietoja.\r\n\r\n"Ovatko talon kaikki ovet lukossa?" kysyi Marvel. "H\xc3\xa4n kuljeksii ymp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nsaalista v\xc3\xa4ijym\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n on taitava kuin piru."\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4 Jumala!" huudahti rehev\xc3\xa4 ravintoloitsija. "Jos se p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4see\r\ntakaovesta! Pit\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 silm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ovia! Kuulkaahan!" H\xc3\xa4n vilkaisi avuttomana\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen. Vierashuoneen ovi paukahti kiinni, ja he kuulivat avaimen\r\nkiertyv\xc3\xa4n lukossa. "Sitten on viel\xc3\xa4 ovi pihalle p\xc3\xa4in ja yksityishuoneen\r\novi. Pihaovi..."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n sy\xc3\xb6ksyi ulos ravintolahuoneesta.\r\n\r\nMinuutin kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n ilmestyi j\xc3\xa4lleen, k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n leikkausveitsi.\r\n"Pihaovi oli auki", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n ja h\xc3\xa4nen paksu alahuulensa ven\xc3\xa4hti.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n voi nyt olla talossa", huomautti ensimm\xc3\xa4inen ajuri.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n ei ole keitti\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4", sanoi ravintoloitsija. "Siell\xc3\xa4 on kaksi\r\nnaista, ja min\xc3\xa4 olen pistellyt siell\xc3\xa4 joka tuumanalan t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 pienell\xc3\xa4\r\npihviveitsell\xc3\xa4, eiv\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4 he luule h\xc3\xa4nen tulleen sis\xc3\xa4lle. He ovat\r\nhuomanneet --"\r\n\r\n"Oletteko pannut sen kiinni?" kysyi ensimm\xc3\xa4inen ajuri.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 olen ymm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4", sanoi ravintoloitsija.\r\n\r\nPartaniekka pani revolverin entiseen asentoon. Juuri silloin painettiin\r\ntarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luukku kiinni, ja salpa naksahti. Samassa pamahti\r\noven ripa kauheasti jytisten, ja vierashuoneen ovi lensi auki. He\r\nkuulivat Marvelin kiljahtavan kuin ansaan joutuneen j\xc3\xa4niksenpojan, ja\r\nheti kapusivat toiset tarjoilup\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n yli h\xc3\xa4nen avukseen. Partaniekan\r\nrevolveri pamahti, ja vierashuoneen per\xc3\xa4sein\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 riippuva kuvastin\r\nv\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti ja putosi murskautuen ja kilisten lattialle.\r\n\r\nMenness\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vierashuoneeseen huomasi ravintoloitsija Marvelin\r\nomituisesti kyyristelev\xc3\xa4n ja rimpuilevan pihalle ja keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n viev\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\novea vasten. Ovi lensi auki ravintoloitsijan viivytelless\xc3\xa4, ja Marvel\r\nraahautui keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n. Kuului parkaisu ja kattiloiden kalinaa. Marvel,\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kumarassa ja itsepintaisesti pit\xc3\xa4en vastaan, ty\xc3\xb6ntyi keitti\xc3\xb6n\r\novelle, ja salvat vedettiin syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nPoliisi, joka oli koettanut sivuuttaa ravintoloitsijan, hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntoisen ajurin seuraamana, tarttui Marvelin kauluksesta kiinni pitelev\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4den ranteeseen, sai iskun kasvoihinsa ja hoiperteli\r\ntaaksep\xc3\xa4in. Ovi avautui, ja Marvel teki hurjan ponnistuksen voidakseen\r\npysytell\xc3\xa4 sen takana. Silloin ajuri tarttui jonkun niskaan.\r\n\r\n"Nyt sain h\xc3\xa4net k\xc3\xa4siini", virkkoi ajuri.\r\n\r\nRavintoloitsijan punaiset k\xc3\xa4det raapaisivat n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on", sanoi ravintoloitsija.\r\n\r\nThomas Marvel, joka oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt irti, lys\xc3\xa4hti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 lattialle ja\r\nkoetti ry\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4 tappelevien miesten s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rien taakse. Kamppailua jatkui\r\novensyrj\xc3\xa4n likell\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni kuului ensimm\xc3\xa4isen kerran\r\nkime\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kiljahduksena, kun poliisi astui h\xc3\xa4nen jalalleen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nhuusi kiihke\xc3\xa4sti, ja h\xc3\xa4nen nyrkiniskujaan sateli joka taholle kuin\r\nvarstoista. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 ajuri kiljaisi ja painui kumaraan, saatuaan potkun\r\nvatsaansa. Keitti\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4 vierashuoneeseen viev\xc3\xa4 ovi l\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti kiinni ja\r\nsalasi Thomas Marvelin per\xc3\xa4ytymisen. Miehet huomasivat pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 kiinni\r\ntyhj\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ilmasta ja tappelevansa sen kanssa.\r\n\r\n"Minne h\xc3\xa4n on mennyt?" huusi partaniekka. "Ulosko?"\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 tiet\xc3\xa4", virkkoi poliisi mennen pihalle ja j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4den sinne seisomaan.\r\n\r\nTiilikiven kappale lensi viuhuen h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ohi ja s\xc3\xa4rkyi keitti\xc3\xb6n\r\np\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle kasattujen saviastioiden sekaan.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nelle!" huusi mustapartainen mies, ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\nkiilsi poliisin olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xa4puolella ter\xc3\xa4spiippu, ja viisi luotia\r\nseurasi toinen toistaan siihen h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, josta kivi oli heitetty.\r\nLaukaistessaan liikutti partaniekka k\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vaakasuorassa kaaressa,\r\njoten h\xc3\xa4nen panoksensa lensiv\xc3\xa4t s\xc3\xa4teitt\xc3\xa4in ahtaalle pihalle niinkuin\r\npy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4n puolat.\r\n\r\nSeurasi hiljaisuus. "Viisi patruunaa", virkkoi mustapartainen mies. "Se\r\noli parasta. Nelj\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja lis\xc3\xa4ksi mustapekka. Tuokaa lyhty ja tulkaa\r\nhaeskelemaan h\xc3\xa4nen ruumistaan."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSEITSEM\xc3\x84STOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nTohtori Kempin vieras\r\n\r\n\r\nTohtori Kemp oli edelleen kirjoittanut ty\xc3\xb6huoneessaan, kunnes\r\nlaukaukset saivat h\xc3\xa4net h\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Krak, krak, krak, ne tulivat\r\nper\xc3\xa4tysten.\r\n\r\n"Ohoh!" sanoi tohtori Kemp, pannen kyn\xc3\xa4n taas suuhunsa ja kuunnellen.\r\n"Kuka ammuskelee Burdockissa? Mit\xc3\xa4 ne aasit puuhaavat?"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n astui etel\xc3\xa4npuolisen ikkunan luo, avasi sen ja nojautuen ulos\r\nkatseli ikkunoiden, helmim\xc3\xa4isten kaasulamppujen ja myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xb6iden verkkoa,\r\njossa n\xc3\xa4kyiv\xc3\xa4t lyhyin\xc3\xa4 mustina v\xc3\xa4liaukkoina \xc3\xb6isen kaupungin katot\r\nja pihat. "N\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 silt\xc3\xa4 kuin olisi v\xc3\xa4kijoukko kukkulan juurella\r\n\'Kriketinpelaajien\' luona", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n ja j\xc3\xa4i katselemaan. Siit\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 siirtyiv\xc3\xa4t kaupungin yli paljon kauemmaksi sinne, miss\xc3\xa4\r\nlaivojen valot loistivat ja majakka hohti -- pieni, valaistu, s\xc3\xa4rmik\xc3\xa4s\r\ntorni kuin keltainen jalokivi. Kuu, josta vasta n\xc3\xa4kyi ensimm\xc3\xa4inen\r\nnelj\xc3\xa4nnes, riippui l\xc3\xa4nnenpuolisen kukkulan yl\xc3\xa4puolella, ja t\xc3\xa4hdet\r\ntuikkivat melkein troopillisen kirkkaina.\r\n\r\nViiden minuutin kuluttua, jolloin h\xc3\xa4nen mielens\xc3\xa4 oli vaeltanut\r\ntulevaisuuden yhteiskunnallisten olojen et\xc3\xa4iseen tarkasteluun ja\r\nlopulta menett\xc3\xa4nyt k\xc3\xa4sityksen ajan pituudesta, h\xc3\xa4n taas kokosi tarmonsa\r\nhuokaisten, sulki ikkunan ja palasi kirjoitusp\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 luo.\r\n\r\nNoin tuntia my\xc3\xb6hemmin soi ulko-oven kello. Laukausten j\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\nkirjoittanut hitaasti ja silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in ajatuksiinsa vaipuen. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nistui ja kuunteli. H\xc3\xa4n kuuli palvelustyt\xc3\xb6n avaavan oven ja odotti h\xc3\xa4nen\r\naskeleitaan pitkin portaita, mutta kaikki oli hiljaa. "Mit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n se oli?"\r\najatteli tohtori Kemp.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n koetti j\xc3\xa4lleen ryhty\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4, mutta se ei onnistunut. H\xc3\xa4n nousi,\r\nl\xc3\xa4hti ty\xc3\xb6huoneestaan alas portaiden k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnekohtaan, soitti kelloa ja\r\nkutsui kaiteiden yli sis\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4, joka ilmestyi alakerran eteiseen. "Oliko\r\nse kirje?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Vain turha soitto", vastasi tytt\xc3\xb6.\r\n\r\n"Minua ei nukuta t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 y\xc3\xb6n\xc3\xa4", ajatteli Kemp. H\xc3\xa4n palasi huoneeseensa ja\r\nt\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kertaa k\xc3\xa4vi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti k\xc3\xa4siksi ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nHetkisen kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n oli taas p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vauhtiin, eik\xc3\xa4 huoneesta\r\nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuulunut muita \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni\xc3\xa4 kuin kellon tikityst\xc3\xa4 ja tohtorin sulkakyn\xc3\xa4n\r\nhiljaista rapinaa sen kiit\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4 nopeasti paperilla keskell\xc3\xa4 pient\xc3\xa4\r\nvalokeh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, jonka h\xc3\xa4nen lampunvarjostimensa loi p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle.\r\n\r\nKello oli jo kaksi, ennenkuin tohtori Kemp oli t\xc3\xa4ksi iltaa lopettanut\r\nty\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n nousi, haukotteli ja l\xc3\xa4hti yl\xc3\xa4kertaan nukkumaan. H\xc3\xa4n oli\r\njo riisunut takkinsa ja liivins\xc3\xa4, kun alkoi tuntea janoa. H\xc3\xa4n otti\r\nkynttil\xc3\xa4n ja l\xc3\xa4hti alas ruokasaliin hakemaan visky\xc3\xa4 ja soodavett\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nTohtori Kempin tieteelliset harrastukset olivat tehneet h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 hyvin\r\ntarkkan\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen miehen, ja kun h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4lleen astui k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n poikki,\r\nn\xc3\xa4ki h\xc3\xa4n portaiden juurella tumman tahran korkkimatolla. H\xc3\xa4n nousi\r\nyl\xc3\xa4kertaan ja silloin juolahti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4 se kysymys,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 tuo korkkimaton tahra voisi merkit\xc3\xa4. Ilmeisestikin py\xc3\xb6ri t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\nasia h\xc3\xa4nen alitajunnassaan. Joka tapauksessa h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi takaisin\r\nkantamuksineen, palasi eteishalliin, laski viskyn ja soodakarahvin\r\nk\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja kumartui tunnustelemaan tahraa. H\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 kovin\r\npahasti h\xc3\xa4n huomasi, ett\xc3\xa4 se oli yht\xc3\xa4 paksua ja samanv\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xa4 kuin\r\nkuivunut veri.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n otti taas kantamuksensa ja palasi yl\xc3\xa4kertaan katsellen ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen\r\nja koettaen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 selville veritahrasta. Portaiden k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nteess\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n\r\nhuomasi jotakin ja pys\xc3\xa4htyi h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen asuinhuoneensa oven\r\nripa oli veren tahraama.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vilkaisi omaan k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4. Se oli ihan puhdas, ja sitten h\xc3\xa4n muisti,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 tuo ovi oli ollut auki h\xc3\xa4nen tullessaan alas ty\xc3\xb6huoneesta\r\nja ettei h\xc3\xa4n siis ollut edes koskenut ripaan. H\xc3\xa4n astui suoraa\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 huoneeseensa, kasvot perin tyynin\xc3\xa4 -- ehk\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tavallista\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4isempin\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen katseensa, joka harhaili kysyv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 pitkin\r\nhuonetta, sattui vuoteeseen. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4llimm\xc3\xa4isell\xc3\xa4 peitteell\xc3\xa4 oli veril\xc3\xa4ikk\xc3\xa4,\r\nja lakana oli revitty rikki. H\xc3\xa4n ei ollut huomannut sit\xc3\xa4 edellisell\xc3\xa4\r\nkerralla t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4ydess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, koska h\xc3\xa4n oli silloin mennyt suoraan\r\ny\xc3\xb6p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luo. Takasyrj\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 olivat vuodevaatteet painuksissa, aivan kuin\r\njoku olisi \xc3\xa4sken siin\xc3\xa4 istunut.\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4ness\xc3\xa4 her\xc3\xa4si sellainen omituinen tunne kuin h\xc3\xa4n olisi kuullut\r\nmatalalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 sanottavan: "Laupias taivas! -- Kemp!" Mutta tohtori\r\nKemp ei uskonut \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4niin.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n seisoi tuijottaen pengottuihin lakanoihin. Oliko se todellakin\r\nollut \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni? H\xc3\xa4n katseli taas ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen, mutta ei huomannut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nmuuta kuin myllerretyn ja verentahraaman vuoteen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\nkuuli liikehtimist\xc3\xa4 huoneen poikki pesukaapin likell\xc3\xa4. Kaikilla\r\nihmisill\xc3\xa4, sellaisillakin, jotka ovat saaneet korkean sivistyksen, on\r\nj\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4 jonkinlaisia taikauskoisia vaistoja. H\xc3\xa4net valtasi omituinen\r\nkammo. H\xc3\xa4n sulki huoneen oven, meni y\xc3\xb6p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luokse ja laski sille\r\nkantamuksensa. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en huomasi kierretyn, verentahraaman\r\nliinak\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen riippuvan ilmassa itsens\xc3\xa4 ja pesukaapin v\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tuijotti siihen h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4. Se oli sis\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 tyhj\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4re -- oikein\r\nsidottu, mutta ihan tyhj\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n olisi astunut l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi tarttuakseen\r\nsiihen, mutta joku pys\xc3\xa4hdytti h\xc3\xa4net kosketuksella, ja er\xc3\xa4s \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni alkoi\r\npuhua ihan h\xc3\xa4nen vieress\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Kemp!" sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4h?" kysyi Kemp, suu auki.\r\n\r\n"Pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 rauhallisena", virkkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. "Min\xc3\xa4 olen N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies."\r\n\r\nKemp ei v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aikaan saanut vastatuksi; h\xc3\xa4n vain tuijotti siteeseen.\r\n"N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies?" toisti h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen aivojensa l\xc3\xa4pi v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti se juttu, jolle h\xc3\xa4n viel\xc3\xa4 samana aamuna\r\noli nauranut. H\xc3\xa4n ei n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4 sill\xc3\xa4 hetkell\xc3\xa4 perin pahasti pel\xc3\xa4styneen tai\r\nedes h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen. J\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in vasta h\xc3\xa4n alkoi mietti\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Luulin koko juttua valheeksi", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. Etusijassa h\xc3\xa4n muisteli\r\nsenaamuisia yh\xc3\xa4 toistettuja perusteita. "Onko teill\xc3\xa4 side?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"On", vastasi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies.\r\n\r\n"Ohoh", sanoi Kemp ja kokosi sitten tarmonsa. "Jopa nyt jotakin! Mutta\r\nseh\xc3\xa4n on mahdotonta. Se on jokin temppu." H\xc3\xa4n astui \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi,\r\nja k\xc3\xa4si, jonka h\xc3\xa4n ojensi sidett\xc3\xa4 kohti, osui n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6miin sormiin.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4hti kosketuksesta, ja h\xc3\xa4nen v\xc3\xa4rins\xc3\xa4 muuttui "Pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nrauhallisena, Kemp. Jumalan t\xc3\xa4hden! Tarvitsen kipe\xc3\xa4sti apua. Seis!"\r\n\r\nK\xc3\xa4si tarttui h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivarteensa. H\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xb6i sit\xc3\xa4. "Kemp!" huudahti \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n"Kemp, pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 rauhallisena", ja puristus tiukkeni.\r\n\r\nKempin valtasi hurja halu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 irti. K\xc3\xa4si, joka kuului siteeseen\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rittyyn k\xc3\xa4sivarteen, tarttui h\xc3\xa4nen olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4, ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net\r\nkaadettiin taaksep\xc3\xa4in vuoteelle. H\xc3\xa4n avasi suunsa huutaakseen. Silloin\r\nty\xc3\xb6nnettiin lakanan nurkka h\xc3\xa4nen hampaittensa v\xc3\xa4liin. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies\r\npiti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xb6yke\xc3\xa4sti pitk\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mutta h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivartensa olivat\r\nvapaat. H\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xb6i ja koetti hurjasti potkia.\r\n\r\n"Pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4rjill\xc3\xa4nne", virkkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies pit\xc3\xa4en h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 kiinni,\r\nvaikka oli saanut kylkiluihinsa iskun. "Taivaan t\xc3\xa4hden, te saatte minut\r\npian raivostumaan."\r\n\r\n"Maatkaa paikallanne, hupsu!" karjui N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies Kempin korvaan.\r\n\r\nKemp rimpuili viel\xc3\xa4kin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n aikaa, mutta j\xc3\xa4i sitten makaamaan hiljaa.\r\n\r\n"Jos huudatte, ly\xc3\xb6n kasvonne m\xc3\xa4s\xc3\xa4ksi", virkkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies\r\nvapauttaen h\xc3\xa4nen suunsa. "Min\xc3\xa4 olen N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. Se ei ole mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nhulluutta eik\xc3\xa4 noituutta. Olen todellakin N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. Ja tarvitsen\r\napuanne. En tahdo loukata teit\xc3\xa4, mutta jos k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ydytte mielett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nmoukan tavalla, niin minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy. Ettek\xc3\xb6 muista minua, Kemp? Griffin,\r\nyliopistotoverinne."\r\n\r\n"Antakaa minun nousta", pyysi Kemp. "Pysyn siin\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 olen. Ja\r\nsallikaa minun istua hetkinen rauhassa."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n nousi ja tunnusteli niskaansa.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 olen Griffin, yliopistotoverinne, ja olen tehnyt itseni\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi. Olen vain tavallinen mies, teille tuttu mies, joka on\r\nk\xc3\xa4ynyt n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi."\r\n\r\n"Griffin?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Griffin", vastasi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. "Teit\xc3\xa4 nuorempi ylioppilas, tavattoman\r\nvaaleaverinen, kuusi jalkaa pitk\xc3\xa4 ja tukeva -- mies, jolla oli\r\nvaaleanhele\xc3\xa4t kasvot ja punaiset silm\xc3\xa4t, sama, joka sai kemian\r\npalkinnon."\r\n\r\n"Olen ihan ymm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4", sanoi Kemp. "Aivoissani kohisee. Mit\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 on\r\ntekemist\xc3\xa4 Griffinin kanssa?"\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 _olen_ Griffin."\r\n\r\nKemp mietti. "Se on hirve\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Mutta mik\xc3\xa4 noituus voi\r\ntehd\xc3\xa4 miehen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi?"\r\n\r\n"Se ei ole noituutta. Se on luonnollinen ja t\xc3\xa4ysin ymm\xc3\xa4rrett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\r\nilmi\xc3\xb6..."\r\n\r\n"Se on hirve\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4!" huudahti Kemp. "Kuinka ihmeess\xc3\xa4...?"\r\n\r\n"Se on kyll\xc3\xa4 hirve\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 olen haavoittunut ja kipe\xc3\xa4\r\nja v\xc3\xa4synyt... Hyv\xc3\xa4 Jumala! Kemp, te olette mies. Ottakaa asia\r\nrauhalliselta kannalta. Antakaa minulle v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ruokaa ja juomaa ja\r\nsallikaa, ett\xc3\xa4 istun t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nKemp tuijotti siteeseen ja sen liikkuessa huoneen poikki h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nkorituolia vedettiin lattialla h\xc3\xa4nen vuoteensa viereen. Se natisi, ja\r\nistuinsija painui noin nelj\xc3\xa4nnestuuman alemmaksi. H\xc3\xa4n hieroi silmi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nja tunnusteli taas niskaansa. "T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 voittaa viel\xc3\xa4 aaveetkin", virkkoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n ja nauroi tyls\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\n"Se on parempi. Luojan kiitos, te alatte tulla j\xc3\xa4rkiinne!"\r\n\r\n"Tai tyhmisty\xc3\xa4", sanoi Kemp ja hieraisi rystysill\xc3\xa4 silmi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Antakaa minulle v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n visky\xc3\xa4. Olen kuolemaisillani."\r\n\r\n"Eip\xc3\xa4 se silt\xc3\xa4 tuntunut. Miss\xc3\xa4 te olette? Jos nousen, niin enk\xc3\xb6 t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nteihin? _Tuossako?_ Kas niin. Visky\xc3\xa4... T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on. Mihink\xc3\xa4 sen annan\r\nteille?"\r\n\r\nTuoli natisi, ja Kemp tunsi lasia vedett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n ponnisti\r\nvoidakseen antaa sen tapahtua. H\xc3\xa4nen kaikki vaistonsa sotivat sit\xc3\xa4\r\nvastaan. Lasi pys\xc3\xa4htyi ilmassa noin parinkymmenen tuuman p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tuolin\r\netusyrj\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xa4puolelle. H\xc3\xa4n tuijotti siihen tavattoman \xc3\xa4llistyneen\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on -- t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n _t\xc3\xa4ytyy_ olla -- hypnotismia. Te olette varmaankin\r\nvain luulotellut, ett\xc3\xa4 olette n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n."\r\n\r\n"Loruja", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Se on mielet\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\n"Kuulkaahan minua."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 todistin lopullisesti t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 aamuna", aloitti Kemp, "ett\xc3\xa4\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys..."\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 merkityst\xc3\xa4 teid\xc3\xa4n todistuksillanne on! Minun on n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4", sanoi\r\n\xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, "ja y\xc3\xb6 on kolea alastomalle miehelle".\r\n\r\n"Ruokaako?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\nViskylasi kallistui. "Niin", virkkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies kulauttaen sen\r\ntyhj\xc3\xa4ksi. "Onko teill\xc3\xa4 aamunuttua?"\r\n\r\nKempilt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si hiljainen huudahdus. H\xc3\xa4n meni vaatekaapin luo ja otti\r\nesille tummanpunaisen mekon. "Kelpaako t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n. Se otettiin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Hetkisen se riippui rentonaan ilmassa, liehui sitten\r\nkuin noiduttu, seisoi t\xc3\xa4ytel\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 ja s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4dyllisen\xc3\xa4 napittaen itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nistuutui tuolille.\r\n\r\n"Alushousut, sukat ja tohvelit tekisiv\xc3\xa4t hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nlyhyesti. "Ja ruoka."\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 tahansa. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on j\xc3\xa4rjett\xc3\xb6mint\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 koskaan el\xc3\xa4iss\xc3\xa4ni olen\r\nkokenut!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n penkoi laatikoitaan l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen pyydettyj\xc3\xa4 esineit\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4hti sitten\r\nalakertaan tutkimaan ruokas\xc3\xa4ili\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4. Sielt\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n palasi tuoden muutamia\r\nkylmi\xc3\xa4 kyljyksi\xc3\xa4 ja leip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, veti esille kevyen p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n ja pani ruuat\r\nvieraansa eteen.\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 veitsist\xc3\xa4", sanoi vieras, ja ilmassa riippui kyljys\r\nsamalla kun kuului nakertelua.\r\n\r\n"Haluan aina saada jotakin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lleni, ennenkuin rupean sy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", virkkoi\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies suu t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4, sy\xc3\xb6den ahnaasti. "Omituinen mieliteko."\r\n\r\n"Luullakseni tuo ranne on kunnossa?" sanoi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Uskokaa minua", vakuutti N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies.\r\n\r\n"Kaikesta kummallisesta ja ihmeellisest\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin. Mutta olipa omituista, ett\xc3\xa4 satuin tunkemaan\r\n_teid\xc3\xa4n_ taloonne saadakseni haavani sidotuksi. Se on ensimm\xc3\xa4inen\r\nonnenpotkaukseni. Joka tapauksessa aioin nukkua t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n y\xc3\xb6n.\r\nTeid\xc3\xa4n pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 se kest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4! Onhan se ik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kiusa, ett\xc3\xa4 vereni n\xc3\xa4kyy.\r\nTuollakin on oikea lammikko. Huomaan, ett\xc3\xa4 se hyytyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuttuu\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ksi. Olen muuttanut vain elimellisen kudoksen, ainoastaan niin\r\npitk\xc3\xa4ksi ajaksi kuin olen elossa... Min\xc3\xa4 olen ollut t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 jo kolme\r\ntuntia."\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuinka se k\xc3\xa4y p\xc3\xa4ins\xc3\xa4?" aloitti Kemp melkein vihaisesti. "Hitto\r\nviek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n! Koko juttuhan on j\xc3\xa4rjet\xc3\xb6n alusta loppuun."\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4ysin j\xc3\xa4rjellinen", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies, "aivan j\xc3\xa4rjellinen".\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kurkotti ottamaan viskypullon. Kemp tuijotti ahmivaan aamumekkoon.\r\nKynttil\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4de, joka tunkeutui oikean olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n repeytym\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, loi\r\nvalokolmion vasemmanpuolisten kylkiluitten kohdalle.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 ne laukaukset olivat?" kysyi tohtori. "Kuinka ampuminen alkoi?"\r\n\r\n"Er\xc3\xa4s hupsu mies -- tavallaan liittolaiseni, hitto h\xc3\xa4net perik\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n! --\r\nkoetti varastaa rahani, ja niin h\xc3\xa4n tekikin."\r\n\r\n"Onko h\xc3\xa4nkin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n?"\r\n\r\n"Ei."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 sitten?\r\n\r\n"Enk\xc3\xb6 saisi sy\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n enemm\xc3\xa4n, ennenkuin kerron teille kaikki? Minun\r\non n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4, ja k\xc3\xa4rsin tuskia. Ja te tahdotte, ett\xc3\xa4 kertoisin juttuja!"\r\n\r\nKemp nousi. "Ette suinkaan te ampunut?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4", sanoi vieras. "Jokin hullu, jota en ole koskaan n\xc3\xa4hnyt,\r\nlaukaisi umpim\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Monet ihmiset pel\xc3\xa4styiv\xc3\xa4t. He kaikki pel\xc3\xa4styiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nminua. Hitto heid\xc3\xa4t viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n. Kuulkaahan, Kemp -- min\xc3\xa4 haluaisin sy\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4\r\nenemm\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 menen alakertaan katsomaan, mit\xc3\xa4 voisin l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sielt\xc3\xa4 lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4",\r\nvirkkoi Kemp. "Pelk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4np\xc3\xa4, ettei siell\xc3\xa4 ole paljon."\r\n\r\nSy\xc3\xb6ty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 oikein runsaasti, N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies pyysi sikaaria. H\xc3\xa4n\r\npuraisi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n poikki kiivaasti, ennenkuin Kemp ehti antaa veitsen, ja\r\nkirosi ulomman lehden irtaantuessa.\r\n\r\nOmituista oli n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen polttavan. H\xc3\xa4nen suunsa ja kurkkunsa,\r\nnielunsa ja sieraimensa alkoivat n\xc3\xa4ky\xc3\xa4 jonkinlaisina py\xc3\xb6rivin\xc3\xa4\r\nsavuputkina.\r\n\r\n"Siunattu asia, ett\xc3\xa4 saa tupakoida", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n ja puhalteli\r\npontevasti. "Olipa onni, ett\xc3\xa4 tapasin teid\xc3\xa4t, Kemp. Teid\xc3\xa4n pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 auttaa\r\nminua. Ajatelkaahan, ett\xc3\xa4 osuin t\xc3\xa4nne juuri nyt, kun olen oikein lemmon\r\npinteess\xc3\xa4 -- luullakseni olen ollut ihan j\xc3\xa4rjilt\xc3\xa4ni. Millaista olenkaan\r\nsaanut kokea! Mutta selvitt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4mme nyt asiat, antakaahan minun kertoa\r\nteille."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n otti lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 visky\xc3\xa4 ja soodavett\xc3\xa4. Kemp nousi, katsahti ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen\r\nja haki itselleen lasin viereisest\xc3\xa4 tyhj\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 huoneesta.\r\n\r\n"Se on hurjaa -- mutta luullakseni voin sent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n juoda."\r\n\r\n"Te ette ole paljon muuttunut, Kemp, n\xc3\xa4in\xc3\xa4 kahtenatoista vuotena.\r\nTe kohtuulliset miehet ette muutu. Kylm\xc3\xa4t ja s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6lliset... Mutta\r\nkuulkaahan! Ryhtyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4mme yhdess\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6ni".\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuinka se kaikki tapahtui?" kysyi Kemp, "ja mill\xc3\xa4 lailla\r\nmuutuitte tuollaiseksi?"\r\n\r\n"Herran t\xc3\xa4hden, antakaa minun polttaa hetkinen rauhassa. Sitten alan\r\nkertoa teille."\r\n\r\nMutta juttu j\xc3\xa4i sin\xc3\xa4 iltana kertomatta. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen ranteessa\r\nalkoi taas tuntua tuskia. H\xc3\xa4n oli kuumeinen ja uupunut ja alkoi taas\r\nhautoa mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n takaa-ajoa kukkulan rinnett\xc3\xa4 alas ja ravintolan luona\r\nsattunutta kahakkaa. H\xc3\xa4n aloitti kertomuksensa ja poikkesi siit\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n\r\npuhui katkonaisesti Marvelista ja veti savuja kiihke\xc3\xa4mmin, ja h\xc3\xa4nen\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nens\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4vi vihaiseksi. Kemp koetti k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 niin paljon kuin voi.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n pelk\xc3\xa4si minua -- sen huomasin hyvinkin, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n pelk\xc3\xa4si",\r\ntoisteli N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies moneen kertaan. "H\xc3\xa4n koetti pujahtaa k\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4ni\r\n-- alituisesti h\xc3\xa4n pyrki poikkeamaan syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n! Mik\xc3\xa4 hupsu min\xc3\xa4 olenkaan!"\r\n\r\n"Se rakki!"\r\n\r\n"Olin raivoissani. Olisin voinut tappaa h\xc3\xa4net..."\r\n\r\n"Mist\xc3\xa4 saitte ne rahat?" kysyi Kemp \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies oli jonkun aikaa vaiti. "En voi nyt kertoa sit\xc3\xa4 teille."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n voihkaisi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ja kumartui eteenp\xc3\xa4in, tukien n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6miin k\xc3\xa4siins\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Kemp", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "en ole nukkunut l\xc3\xa4hes kolmeen vuorokauteen,\r\npaitsi ett\xc3\xa4 olen pari kertaa torkkunut tunnin aikaa. Minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy pian\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 nukkumaan."\r\n\r\n"No niin, ottakaa minun huoneeni -- ottakaa t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 huone."\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuinka voin nukkua? Jos nukun, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4see h\xc3\xa4n karkuun. Uh! Mit\xc3\xa4\r\nsill\xc3\xa4 on v\xc3\xa4li\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Millaisen haavan te saitte?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Ei se mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- raapaisi vain verinaarmun. Voi hitto, kuinka minua\r\nnukuttaa!"\r\n\r\n"Miksi ette pane maata?"\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n mies tuntui tarkastelevan Kempi\xc3\xa4. "Koska minusta olisi\r\nerikoisen vastenmielist\xc3\xa4 joutua l\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4isteni vangiksi", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n\r\nhitaasti.\r\n\r\nKemp s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4hti.\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4 hupsu min\xc3\xa4 olen!" sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies, ly\xc3\xb6den kovasti p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n"Nyt olen her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt tuon ajatuksen mieless\xc3\xa4nne."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKAHDEKSASTOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies nukkuu\r\n\r\n\r\nNiin uupunut ja haavoittunut kuin N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies olikin, ei h\xc3\xa4n\r\nottanut uskoakseen Kempin sanaa, ettei h\xc3\xa4nen vapauttaan loukattaisi.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tutki makuuhuoneen molemmat ikkunat, veti yl\xc3\xb6s kaihtimet ja\r\navasi ikkunanpuoliskot p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4kseen varmuuteen Kempin v\xc3\xa4itteest\xc3\xa4,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 niiden kautta sopi karata. Y\xc3\xb6 oli hyvin rauhallinen ja tyyni ja\r\nuusikuu laskeutui paraikaa nummen yli. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n tutki makuuhuoneen\r\nja molempien vaatekammioiden ovien avaimet saadakseen selville, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nniill\xc3\xa4kin voi varmentaa vapauttaan. Lopulta h\xc3\xa4n ilmaisi tyytyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nseisoi takan edess\xc3\xa4 matolla, ja Kemp kuuli haukotuksen.\r\n\r\n"Olen pahoillani", virkkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies, "etten voi kertoa teille\r\nt\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 iltana kaikkea, mit\xc3\xa4 olen tehnyt. Mutta olen lopen uupunut.\r\nSe on ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 eriskummaista. Se on hirve\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4! Mutta uskokaa\r\nminua, Kemp, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4naamuisista todisteluistanne huolimatta se\r\non aivan mahdollista. Olen tehnyt keksinn\xc3\xb6n. Aioin s\xc3\xa4ilytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sen\r\nomana tietonani. En voi. Minulla t\xc3\xa4ytyy olla toveri. Ja te... Me\r\nvoimme suorittaa sellaisia asioita... Mutta j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n huomiseksi. Nyt,\r\nKemp, minusta tuntuu kuin minun t\xc3\xa4ytyisi nukkua tai muuten n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyn\r\nkuoliaaksi."\r\n\r\nKemp seisoi keskell\xc3\xa4 huonetta tuijottaen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pukuun.\r\n"Luultavasti minun nyt on j\xc3\xa4tett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 teid\xc3\xa4t", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Se on --\r\nuskomatonta. Jos sattuisi kolme t\xc3\xa4llaista asiaa, jotka mullistaisivat\r\nkaikki t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4nastiset k\xc3\xa4sitykseni, niin tulisin hulluksi. Mutta se on\r\ntodellista! Voinko tehd\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta hyv\xc3\xa4ksenne?"\r\n\r\n"Ainoastaan sanoa minulle hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 y\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4", vastasi Griffin.\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 y\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4", sanoi Kemp ja pudisti n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4veli\r\nsivuttain ovelle.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hti aamunuttu k\xc3\xa4velem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n suoraan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti. "Ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\r\ntarkoitan", sanoi puku. "Ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yrityksi\xc3\xa4 houkutella minua ansaan\r\ntai ottaa kiinni! Tai..."\r\n\r\nKempin kasvot muuttuivat hiukan. "Muistaakseni annoin jo lupaukseni",\r\nvastasi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nKemp sulki oven hiljaa takanaan, ja avain kiertyi heti h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nl\xc3\xa4hdetty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Seisoessaan siin\xc3\xa4 avuttoman h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen ilme kasvoillaan\r\nh\xc3\xa4n kuuli nopeiden askelien rient\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n vaatekammion ovelle, ja sekin\r\nlukittiin. Kemp l\xc3\xb6i k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4 otsaansa. "N\xc3\xa4enk\xc3\xb6 unta? Onko maailma tullut\r\nhulluksi, vai olenko min\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n naurahti ja laski k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 lukitulle ovelle. "Nyt on ilmeinen\r\nmielett\xc3\xb6myys ajanut minut ulos omasta makuuhuoneestani!" mutisi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n meni portaiden p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi ja tuijotti lukittuihin oviin. "Se\r\non totta", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n koetteli sormillaan niskaansa, jossa oli\r\npieni ruhjevamma. "Eitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n totta!\r\n\r\n"Mutta..."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n pudisti toivottomasti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi ja l\xc3\xa4hti alakertaan.\r\n\r\nSytytetty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ruokasalin lampun h\xc3\xa4n otti esille sikaarin ja alkoi\r\nk\xc3\xa4vell\xc3\xa4 huoneessa huudahdellen. Silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in h\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4itteli itsens\xc3\xa4\r\nkanssa.\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n!" virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Onko olemassa n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 el\xc3\xa4int\xc3\xa4?... Meress\xc3\xa4 kyll\xc3\xa4. Tuhansia --\r\nmiljoonia. Kaikki toukat, kaikki pikku nuppiel\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t ja sauvakkaiset,\r\nkaikki mikroskooppiset olennot, maneettikalat! Meress\xc3\xa4 on enemm\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4 kuin n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 olentoja! Enp\xc3\xa4 ole milloinkaan sit\xc3\xa4\r\najatellut... Ja lammikoissakin! Kaikki pienet lammikon asukkaat --\r\nv\xc3\xa4ritt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n, l\xc3\xa4pikuultavan liman pisteet!... Mutta ilmassa! Ei!"\r\n\r\n"Se on mahdotonta."\r\n\r\n"Mutta sittenkin -- miksi ei?"\r\n\r\n"Jos ihminen olisi lasia, n\xc3\xa4kyisi h\xc3\xa4n sittenkin!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n alkoi mietti\xc3\xa4 syvemmin. Kolme sikaaria oli hajaantunut valkeaksi\r\ntuhaksi matolle, ennenkuin h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4lleen alkoi mutista. Silloin h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si vain huudahdus. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi sivuttain, l\xc3\xa4hti ulos ruokasalista,\r\nmeni pieneen vastaanottohuoneeseensa ja sytytti siell\xc3\xa4 kaasun. Se oli\r\npieni huone, sill\xc3\xa4 tohtori Kemp ei pit\xc3\xa4nyt elinkeinona k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llist\xc3\xa4\r\nl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rintointa. Siell\xc3\xa4 olivat p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n sanomalehdet. Saman aamun lehti\r\noli huolimattomasti avattuna heitetty syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n otti sen k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi sen ja luki kirjoituksen, jonka nimen\xc3\xa4\r\noli "Omituinen juttu Ipingist\xc3\xa4". Se oli sama, jonka merimies oli Port\r\nStowessa ty\xc3\xb6l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sti tavaillut Marvelille. Kemp luki sen kiireesti.\r\n\r\n"K\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4riytynyt vaatteisiin", sanoi Kemp. "Valepuvussa! Salaten sen! \'Ei\r\nkukaan n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4 huomanneen h\xc3\xa4nen onnettomuuttaan\'. Mit\xc3\xa4 hittoa h\xc3\xa4n oikein\r\npuuhaa?"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n pudotti lehden, ja h\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 hakivat eri tahoilta. "Ahaa",\r\nsanoi h\xc3\xa4n ja otti k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4 _St. James\'s Gazetten_, joka oli taivutettu\r\nkokoon, kuten oli tuotukin. "Nyt p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4semme totuuden perille", sanoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n ja avasi lehden. Parin palstan levyinen kirjoitus sattui h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsilmiins\xc3\xa4. "Kokonainen kyl\xc3\xa4 Sussexissa menett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4rkens\xc3\xa4" oli sen\r\notsake.\r\n\r\n"Laupias taivas!" sanoi Kemp lukien kiihke\xc3\xa4sti uskomatonta kertomusta\r\nIpingiss\xc3\xa4 edellisen\xc3\xa4 iltapuolena sattuneista tapauksista, jotka jo on\r\nkuvattu. Aamupainoksen selostus julkaistiin toisella sivulla uudestaan.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n luki sen toistamiseen. "Juoksi katuja pitkin ly\xc3\xb6den oikealle ja\r\nvasemmalle, Jaffers tainnoksissa. Herra Huxter kovissa tuskissa --\r\nviel\xc3\xa4kin kykenem\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n kuvailemaan n\xc3\xa4kem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Kiusallinen n\xc3\xb6yryytys\r\nkappalaiselle. Nainen sairaana kauhusta. Ikkunoita s\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4lein\xc3\xa4.\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 merkillinen juttu luultavasti per\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n. Liian hyv\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4d\xc3\xa4kseen\r\njulkaisematta -- pilajuttuna."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n pudotti lehden ja tuijotti tyhmistyneen\xc3\xa4 eteens\xc3\xa4. "Luultavasti\r\nper\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n otti lehden taas k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4 ja luki uudelleen koko jutun.\r\n\r\n"Mutta milloin se maankiert\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4 siihen sekaantuu? Miksi hemmetiss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n\r\najoi takaa maankiert\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n istahti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 sairassohvalle.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n ei ole ainoastaan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "vaan h\xc3\xa4n on hullu!\r\nMurhanhaluinen!..."\r\n\r\nKun p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nkoitto alkoi sekoittaa kalpeuttaan ruokasalin lampunvaloon\r\nja sikaarinsavuun, asteli Kemp viel\xc3\xa4kin edestakaisin koettaen k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nuskomatonta.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n oli kerrassaan liian kiihtynyt nukkuakseen. H\xc3\xa4nen palvelijansa,\r\njotka tulivat unisina alakertaan, huomasivat h\xc3\xa4net ja olivat\r\ntaipuvaisia p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 liiallinen ty\xc3\xb6nteko oli aiheuttanut\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelle t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n vaivan. H\xc3\xa4n antoi heille kummallisia, mutta t\xc3\xa4ysin selvi\xc3\xa4\r\nm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4yksi\xc3\xa4 tuoda aamiaista kahdelle hengelle n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6tornin ty\xc3\xb6huoneeseen\r\nja sitten pysy\xc3\xa4 pohjakerroksessa. Senj\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n yh\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4veli\r\nruokasalissa, kunnes tuli aamun sanomalehti. Siin\xc3\xa4 oli paljon sanoja,\r\nmutta perin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n asiaa, paitsi edellisen illan uutisten vahvistamista.\r\nLis\xc3\xa4ksi oli hyvin huono selostus Burdockissa sattuneista merkillisist\xc3\xa4\r\ntapauksista. Siit\xc3\xa4 Kemp sai p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4piirteitt\xc3\xa4in tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 oli tapahtunut\r\n"Hauskoissa Kriketin pelaajissa", ja n\xc3\xa4ki Marvelin nimen. "H\xc3\xa4n pakotti\r\nminut seuraansa vuorokaudeksi", todisti Marvel. Ipingin juttuun oli\r\ntullut joitakin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6isi\xc3\xa4 lis\xc3\xa4seikkoja, joista huomattavin oli kyl\xc3\xa4n\r\ns\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6lenn\xc3\xa4tinlankojen katkaiseminen. Mutta mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei luonut valoa\r\nsiihen yhteyteen, joka N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 Miehell\xc3\xa4 oli maankiert\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4n kanssa\r\n-- sill\xc3\xa4 Marvel ei ollut antanut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n selityst\xc3\xa4 niist\xc3\xa4 kolmesta\r\nkirjasta ja rahoista, jotka h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli hallussaan. Ep\xc3\xa4uskoinen s\xc3\xa4vy\r\noli kadonnut, ja joukko uutistenhankkijoita ja tiedustelijoita oli jo\r\nt\xc3\xa4ydess\xc3\xa4 touhussa muokkaamassa t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 asiaa.\r\n\r\nKemp luki joka hivenen selostuksesta ja l\xc3\xa4hetti sis\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4 hankkimaan\r\nkaikki mahdolliset aamulehdet. Nekin h\xc3\xa4n ahmi.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Ja n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4ness\xc3\xa4 olisi\r\nhulluudeksi kehittyv\xc3\xa4 raivop\xc3\xa4isyys. Mit\xc3\xa4 kaikkea h\xc3\xa4n voikaan tehd\xc3\xa4! Ja\r\nnyt h\xc3\xa4n on tuolla yl\xc3\xa4kerrassa vapaana kuin ilma. Mit\xc3\xa4 ihmett\xc3\xa4 minun\r\npit\xc3\xa4isi tehd\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Olisikohan esimerkiksi kunniasanan rikkomista, jos... Ei."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n astui pienen siistim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n nurkkap\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n luo ja alkoi kirjoittaa\r\nkirjett\xc3\xa4. Puolivalmiina h\xc3\xa4n repi sen ja kirjoitti uuden. H\xc3\xa4n luki sen\r\nl\xc3\xa4pi ja tarkasteli sit\xc3\xa4. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n otti kirjekuoren ja piirsi siihen\r\nosoitteeksi "Eversti Adye, Port Burdock".\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies her\xc3\xa4si juuri silloin. H\xc3\xa4n oli pahalla tuulella, ja Kemp,\r\njoka varoi kaikkia \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni\xc3\xa4, kuuli h\xc3\xa4nen tassuttavien jalkojensa astuvan\r\nkiireesti yl\xc3\xa4puolellaan olevan s\xc3\xa4nkykamarin poikki. Sitten viskattiin\r\ntuoli kumoon, ja pesutelineen juomalasi paiskattiin rikki. Kemp riensi\r\nyl\xc3\xa4kertaan ja koputti kiihke\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nYHDEKS\xc3\x84STOISTA LUKU\r\n\r\nV\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n alkeisperusteita\r\n\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4 on h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Kemp, kun N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sti h\xc3\xa4net sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Ei mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", kuului vastaus.\r\n\r\n"Mutta hitto viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n! Ent\xc3\xa4 se s\xc3\xa4rkeminen?"\r\n\r\n"Tilap\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 vimmastusta", vastasi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "Unohdin t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivarteni. Se on kipe\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Te olette jokseenkin kerke\xc3\xa4 sellaisiin temppuihin."\r\n\r\n"Niin olen."\r\n\r\nKemp k\xc3\xa4veli huoneen poikki ja korjasi lasin sirpaleet. "Nyt tiedet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nteist\xc3\xa4 kaikki", virkkoi Kemp nousten seisomaan. "Kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 tapahtui\r\nIpingiss\xc3\xa4 ja tuolla laaksossa. Maailma on huomannut n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nkansalaisensa. Mutta ei kukaan tied\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 te olette t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n mies noitui.\r\n\r\n"Salaisuutenne on tullut ilmi. K\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni se oli salaisuus. En tunne\r\nsuunnitelmianne, mutta tietysti haluan hartaasti auttaa teit\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies istuutui vuoteelle.\r\n\r\n"Yl\xc3\xa4kerrassa on aamiainen valmiina", sanoi Kemp puhuen niin\r\nhuolettomasti kuin mahdollista, ja ilokseen h\xc3\xa4n huomasi oudon vieraansa\r\nmielell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n nousevan. Kemp kulki edell\xc3\xa4 kapeita portaita n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6torniin.\r\n\r\n"Ennenkuin voimme tehd\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta", sanoi Kemp, "on minun saatava\r\nkuulla v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4hemmin t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 teid\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myydest\xc3\xa4nne". H\xc3\xa4n oli\r\nistuutunut vilkaistuaan hermostuneesti ulos ikkunasta sellaisen\r\nhenkil\xc3\xb6n n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4, jonka on pakosta juteltava. H\xc3\xa4nen ep\xc3\xa4ilyksens\xc3\xa4,\r\noliko koko asiassa lainkaan j\xc3\xa4rke\xc3\xa4, leimahti ilmi ja h\xc3\xa4ipyi taas h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkatsellessaan p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n toiselle puolelle, miss\xc3\xa4 Griffin istui aamiaista\r\nsy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja k\xc3\xa4dett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 aamunuttuna, pyyhkien n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4\r\nhuuliaan ihmeellisell\xc3\xa4 tavalla pitelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 lautasliinaan.\r\n\r\n"Se on perin yksinkertaista -- ja uskottavaa", sanoi Griffin pannen\r\nlautasliinan syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 teist\xc3\xa4 itsest\xc3\xa4nne, mutta..." huomautti Kemp naurahtaen.\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin, mutta tuntuipa se minustakin alussa uskomattomalta. Nyt\r\nsensijaan, hyv\xc3\xa4inen aika!... Mutta me saamme viel\xc3\xa4 suuria aikaan! Vasta\r\nChesilstowessa t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n keksin."\r\n\r\n"Chesilstowessa?"\r\n\r\n"Matkustin sinne Lontoosta l\xc3\xa4hdetty\xc3\xa4ni. Tied\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 luovuin\r\nl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ketieteest\xc3\xa4 ja k\xc3\xa4vin k\xc3\xa4siksi fysiikkaan. Ettek\xc3\xb6? Niin min\xc3\xa4 tein.\r\n_Valo_ vieh\xc3\xa4tti minua."\r\n\r\n"Ahaa!"\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6ilmi\xc3\xb6iden tiiviys! Koko se ala on oikea arvoitusten verkko,\r\nmutta sen l\xc3\xa4pi hohtaa petollisesti ratkaisuja. Ja ollessani vain\r\nkahdenkolmatta vanha ja t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 innostusta, sanoin: \'Min\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 omistan\r\nel\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ni t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tutkimukseen. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on sen arvoista.\' Tied\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n,\r\nmillaisia hupsuja olemme kahdenkolmatta vanhoina?"\r\n\r\n"Hupsuja silloin tai hupsuja nyt", virkkoi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Aivan kuin tieto voisi antaa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tyydytyst\xc3\xa4 miehelle! Mutta min\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4vin ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6n k\xc3\xa4siksi, kuin neekeri. Ja olin tehnyt ankarasti ty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4\r\nja ajatellut asiaa kuusi kuukautta, ennenkuin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 tulvahti valoa\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n silmukan l\xc3\xa4pi -- ihan sokaisevasti. Keksin v\xc3\xa4riaineiden ja\r\nvalon taittumisen yleisen periaatteen -- kaavan, mittausopillisen\r\nilmaisumuodon, jossa on -- nelj\xc3\xa4 ulottuvaisuutta. Hupsut, tavalliset\r\nihmiset -- tavalliset matemaatikotkaan eiv\xc3\xa4t tied\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n siit\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4\r\njokin yleinen lausuma saattaa merkit\xc3\xa4 atoomifysiikan tutkijalle.\r\nKirjoissa, niiss\xc3\xa4 kirjoissa, jotka se kulkuri on piilottanut, on\r\nihmeit\xc3\xa4, kummallisia asioita! Mutta se ei ollut j\xc3\xa4rjestelm\xc3\xa4, se oli\r\nvain aate, joka olisi voinut johtaa j\xc3\xa4rjestelm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja sen avulla olisi\r\nk\xc3\xa4ynyt mahdolliseksi muuttamatta aineen mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta ominaisuutta --\r\npaitsi joissakin tapauksissa v\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 -- supistaa sek\xc3\xa4 kiinte\xc3\xa4n ett\xc3\xa4\r\nnestem\xc3\xa4isen aineen valontaittaminen niin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4iseksi kuin ilma taittaa\r\nvaloa, mik\xc3\xa4li tavoitellaan k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llist\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ohoh", sanoi Kemp. "Sep\xc3\xa4 on kummallista! Mutta en viel\xc3\xa4 oikein\r\nymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4... Voin k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 te tuolla lailla voitte turmella\r\nkallisarvoisen kiven, mutta el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n olennon n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi tekeminen on\r\naikojen takana."\r\n\r\n"Juuri niin", sanoi Griffin. "Mutta muistakaapa, ett\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4isyys\r\nriippuu n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4isten olentojen liikkumisesta valossa. Sallikaa minun\r\nselitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 teille alkeellisetkin seikat aivan kuin ette niit\xc3\xa4 tiet\xc3\xa4isi.\r\nSe tekee tarkoituksen selvemm\xc3\xa4ksi. Tied\xc3\xa4tte ihan hyvin, ett\xc3\xa4 kappale\r\njoko imee itseens\xc3\xa4 valoa tai heijastaa tai taittaa valons\xc3\xa4teit\xc3\xa4 tai\r\nsaa toimeen kaikki n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ilmi\xc3\xb6t. Jollei se heijasta tai taita tai\r\nime itseens\xc3\xa4 valoa, ei se sin\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 voi n\xc3\xa4ky\xc3\xa4. Te n\xc3\xa4ette esimerkiksi\r\nhimme\xc3\xa4npunaisen laatikon, koska sen v\xc3\xa4ri imee osan valosta ja heijastaa\r\nmuun osan kaikki punaiset valos\xc3\xa4teet silm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nne. Jollei se imisi mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nerikoista osaa valoa, vaan heijastaisi kaikki, silloin se olisi\r\nloistava valkoinen laatikko. Hopeinen! Timanttilaatikkokaan ei ime\r\npaljon valoa eik\xc3\xa4 paljon heijasta yleisest\xc3\xa4 pinnastaan, mutta vain\r\ntoisin paikoin, miss\xc3\xa4 pinta on otollisempi valolle, se taittuu ja\r\nheijastuu, jolloin n\xc3\xa4ette loistavia valov\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hdyksi\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4pihohtoja.\r\nJonkinlaisen valoluurangon. Lasilaatikko ei ole niin loistava eik\xc3\xa4\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4 kuin timanttilaatikko, koska se taittaa ja heijastaa\r\nv\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4n valoa. Ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n? Joistakin n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6kulmista voitte n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 ihan\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti sen l\xc3\xa4pi. Muutamat lasilajit ovat n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4mpi\xc3\xa4 kuin toiset --\r\npiilasinen laatikko olisi kirkkaampi kuin tavallisesta ikkunalasista\r\ntehty. Hyvin ohuesta tavallisesta lasista tehty\xc3\xa4 laatikkoa olisi vaikea\r\nn\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 huonossa valaistuksessa, koska se tuskin imisi v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n valoa ja\r\ntaittaisi ja heijastaisi perin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n. Ja jos panette tavallisen valkean\r\nlasilevyn veteen, ja etenkin jos panette sen johonkin vett\xc3\xa4 tiiviimp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nnesteeseen, haihtuu se melkein kokonaan n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4, koska valo,\r\njoka kulkee vedest\xc3\xa4 lasiin, taittuu ja heijastuu tai ylip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nmuuttuu ainoastaan perin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n. Se on melkein yht\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n kuin\r\nhiilihappo- tai vetysuihku ilmassa. Ja t\xc3\xa4sm\xc3\xa4lleen samasta syyst\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\n"Niin", my\xc3\xb6nsi Kemp, "se on selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Tuon kaiken tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nyky\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n joka\r\nkoulupoikakin."\r\n\r\n"Ja nyt mainitsen toisen seikan, jonka kuka koulupoika tahansa\r\nsaa tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Jos lasilevy murskataan, Kemp, ja hakataan jauhoksi,\r\nk\xc3\xa4y se paljon n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4ksi ilmassa ollessaan. Lopulta se muuttuu\r\nl\xc3\xa4pin\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi, valkeaksi jauhoksi. Se johtuu siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4\r\njauhossa on monin kerroin enemm\xc3\xa4n lasin pintoja, joissa tapahtuu\r\nvalon taittuminen ja heijastuminen. Lasilevyss\xc3\xa4 on vain kaksi pintaa;\r\njauhossa valo heijastuu tai taittuu joka hiukkasessa, jonka l\xc3\xa4pi se\r\nkulkee, ja hyvin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n valoa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4see kokonaan jauhon puhki. Mutta jos\r\nvalkoista lasijauhoa pannaan veteen, katoaa se heti n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4. Jauhoksi\r\nmurskatulla lasilla ja vedell\xc3\xa4 on melkein sama valontaittaminen, toisin\r\nsanoen, valo taittuu tai heijastuu hyvin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n siirtyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n toisesta\r\ntoiseen.\r\n\r\n"Te saatte lasin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi panemalla sen nesteeseen, jolla on\r\nmelkein sama valontaittaminen. L\xc3\xa4pikuultava esine k\xc3\xa4y n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi,\r\njos se pannaan johonkin aineeseen, joka taittaa valoa melkein\r\nsamassa m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Ja jos mietitte vain sekunninkin ajan, huomaatte\r\nmy\xc3\xb6skin, ett\xc3\xa4 lasijauho saataisiin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi ilmassa, jos sen\r\nvalontaittaminen voitaisiin tehd\xc3\xa4 samaksi kuin ilman. Sill\xc3\xa4 silloin ei\r\ntapahtuisi mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n taittumista tai heijastumista valon kulkiessa lasista\r\nilmaan."\r\n\r\n"Niinp\xc3\xa4 kyll\xc3\xa4", my\xc3\xb6nsi Kemp. "Mutta ihminen ei ole lasijauhoa."\r\n\r\n"Ei", sanoi Griffin. "_H\xc3\xa4n on l\xc3\xa4pikuultavampi_."\r\n\r\n"Se on juttua!"\r\n\r\n"Tuollaista puhuu tohtori! Kuinka ihminen saattaa unohtaa! Oletteko\r\nkymmeness\xc3\xa4 vuodessa jo unohtanut fysiikkanne? Ajatelkaahan vain\r\nesineit\xc3\xa4, jotka ovat l\xc3\xa4pikuultavia, vaikkeiv\xc3\xa4t silt\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4. Paperi\r\nesimerkiksi on valmistettu l\xc3\xa4pikuultavista kuiduista ja on valkeaa\r\nja l\xc3\xa4pin\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 samasta syyst\xc3\xa4 kuin lasijauhokin. \xc3\x96ljytk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 valkea\r\npaperi, t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xb6ljyll\xc3\xa4 hiukkasten v\xc3\xa4lit, niin ettei en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tapahdu\r\ntaittumista tai heijastumista muualla kuin pinnassa -- silloin se\r\nmuuttuu yht\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4pikuultavaksi kuin lasi. Eik\xc3\xa4 ainoastaan paperi,\r\nvaan puuvillas\xc3\xa4ikeet, liinas\xc3\xa4ikeet, villas\xc3\xa4ikeet, puus\xc3\xa4ikeet, ja\r\n_luu_, Kemp, _liha_, Kemp, _tukka_, Kemp, _kynnet_ ja _hermot_,\r\nKemp, suorastaan koko ihmisen rakenne, paitsi h\xc3\xa4nen verens\xc3\xa4\r\npunaisuutta ja h\xc3\xa4nen tukkansa tummaa v\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4, kaikki on l\xc3\xa4pikuultavaa,\r\nv\xc3\xa4rit\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 kudosta -- niin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4inen seikka riitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tekem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n meid\xc3\xa4t\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4iseksi toisillemme. Enimm\xc3\xa4kseen eiv\xc3\xa4t el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n olennon s\xc3\xa4ikeet ole\r\nl\xc3\xa4pin\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4mpi\xc3\xa4 kuin vesi."\r\n\r\n"Tuo on ihan selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4!" huudahti Kemp. "Viime y\xc3\xb6n\xc3\xa4 ajattelin vain\r\nmeritoukkia ja maneettikaloja!"\r\n\r\n"_Nyt_ ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4tte minut! Ja kaiken sen, mit\xc3\xa4 tiesin ja ajattelin\r\nvuotta my\xc3\xb6hemmin kuin olin l\xc3\xa4htenyt Lontoosta -- kuusi vuotta\r\nsitten. Mutta pidin sen omana tietonani. Minun oli ty\xc3\xb6skennelt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\r\nhirve\xc3\xa4n ep\xc3\xa4edullisissa olosuhteissa. Hobbema, professorini, oli\r\ntieteellinen heitti\xc3\xb6, aatteiden varas -- h\xc3\xa4n nuuski aina. Ja te\r\ntunnette tiedemaailman konnamaisen j\xc3\xa4rjestelm\xc3\xa4n. Min\xc3\xa4 yksinkertaisesti\r\nen tahtonut julkaista ja antaa h\xc3\xa4nelle osaa ansiostani. Jatkoin\r\ntutkimustani. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sin yh\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi sit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 olisin voinut ruveta\r\nkokeilemaan kaavallani, jolloin siit\xc3\xa4 olisi tullut tosiasia. En\r\nkertonut sit\xc3\xa4 ainoallekaan el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lle sielulle, koska aioin rep\xc3\xa4isev\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\ntavalla paiskata keksint\xc3\xb6ni maailman n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi ja tulla yhdell\xc3\xa4\r\niskulla kuuluisaksi. Ryhdyin tutkimaan ihonv\xc3\xa4rin kysymyst\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni\r\nmuutamia aukkoja, ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 -- en tahallani, vaan sattumalta -- tein\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n fysiologisen havainnon."\r\n\r\n"No mink\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"N\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4s, veren punainen v\xc3\xa4riaine voidaan muuttaa valkeaksi,\r\nv\xc3\xa4ritt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi, ja kuitenkin se s\xc3\xa4ilytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kaikki ne kyvyt, joita sill\xc3\xa4\r\nnyt on!"\r\n\r\nKempilt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si ep\xc3\xa4uskoisen h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen huudahdus.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies nousi seisaalle ja alkoi k\xc3\xa4vell\xc3\xa4 pieness\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6huoneessa\r\nedestakaisin. "Teid\xc3\xa4n sopii hyvinkin huudahtaa. Muistan sen illan.\r\nOli hyvin my\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4 -- p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 minulla oli kiusana t\xc3\xb6llistelev\xc3\xa4t, tyhm\xc3\xa4t\r\nylioppilaat -- ja toisinaan ty\xc3\xb6skentelin aamunkoittoon asti. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4,\r\nh\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4isev\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja t\xc3\xa4ydellisen\xc3\xa4, se v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti mieleeni. Olin yksin,\r\nlaboratoriossa oli hiljaista, pitk\xc3\xa4t kynttil\xc3\xa4t paloivat kirkkaasti\r\nja \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti... \'Saattaisi tehd\xc3\xa4 el\xc3\xa4imen, el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n kudoksen,\r\nl\xc3\xa4pikuultavaksi! Sen voisi tehd\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi! Kaiken muun paitsi\r\nihonv\xc3\xa4rin. Min\xc3\xa4 voisin olla n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\', sanoin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4en,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 merkitsi olla niin luonnottoman vaaleaverinen kuin min\xc3\xa4 olin,\r\nkeksitty\xc3\xa4ni t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n salaisuuden. Se ihan huumasi. J\xc3\xa4tin sen suodatuksen,\r\njoka minulla oli paraikaa tekeill\xc3\xa4, ja menin suuren ikkunan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen\r\nkatselemaan t\xc3\xa4hti\xc3\xa4. \'Voisin olla n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\', toistelin itsekseni.\r\n\r\n"Sellaisen tempun suorittaminen olisi suorastaan enemm\xc3\xa4n kuin\r\ntaikuutta. Ja min\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in ajatukseni silmill\xc3\xa4 selv\xc3\xa4sti kaiken\r\nsen suurenmoisuuden, mit\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys merkitsisi ihmiselle.\r\nSalaper\xc3\xa4isyytt\xc3\xa4, valtaa, vapautta. En n\xc3\xa4hnyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n varjopuolia.\r\nAjatelkaahan vain! Ja min\xc3\xa4 ryysyinen, k\xc3\xb6yh\xc3\xa4, orjuutettu tutkija,\r\njoka opetin tomppeleita maaseudun lukiossa, voisin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 tulla --\r\nt\xc3\xa4llaiseksi. Kysyn teilt\xc3\xa4, Kemp, olisitteko te... Kuka tahansa,\r\nuskokaa pois, olisi t\xc3\xa4ysin sieluin antautunut siihen tutkimukseen.\r\nJa min\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6skentelin kolme vuotta, ja jokaiselta vaikeuden\r\nkukkulalta, jonka yli ponnistelin, n\xc3\xa4kyi taas uusi. Siin\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nloppumattomia yksityiskohtia! Ja yh\xc3\xa4 uutta ep\xc3\xa4toivoa! Professori,\r\nmaaseutulaisprofessori, aina nuuskimassa. \'Milloin alatte julkaista\r\ntuota tutkimustanne\', tiedusteli h\xc3\xa4n alinomaa. Ja ne opiskelijat,\r\nahdashenkiset ja mit\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4t olennot! Kolme vuotta sit\xc3\xa4 kesti...\r\n\r\n"Ja kolme vuotta salaa n\xc3\xa4hty\xc3\xa4ni sellaista vaivaa huomasin mahdottomaksi\r\nsuorittaa sit\xc3\xa4 loppuun -- se oli mahdotonta..."\r\n\r\n"Kuinka niin?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Raha", vastasi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies ja meni taas tuijottamaan ulos ikkunasta.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4. "Ry\xc3\xb6stin ukolta -- is\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4ni. Rahat eiv\xc3\xa4t olleet\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen, ja h\xc3\xa4n ampui itsens\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKAHDESKYMMENES LUKU\r\n\r\nPortland-kadun varrella\r\n\r\n\r\nHetkisen Kemp istui \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neti, katsellen ikkunan luona seisovan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nolennon selk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4hti er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ajatuksen juolahtaessa h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmieleens\xc3\xa4, nousi, tarttui N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen k\xc3\xa4sivarteen ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi\r\nh\xc3\xa4net pois t\xc3\xa4hystelem\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Olette v\xc3\xa4synyt", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "ja minun istuessani te k\xc3\xa4velette.\r\nOttakaa tuolini."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n asettui Griffinin ja l\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4n ikkunan v\xc3\xa4liin.\r\n\r\nV\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n aikaa Griffin istui hiljaa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n taas alkoi kertoa.\r\n\r\n"Olin jo l\xc3\xa4htenyt Chesilstowen opistosta", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "kun se\r\ntapahtui. Se sattui viime joulukuussa. Olin hankkinut itselleni\r\nLontoossa asunnoksi tilavan kalustamattoman huoneen isossa huonosti\r\nhoidetussa vuokratalossa k\xc3\xb6yh\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xb6korttelissa Suuren Portland-kadun\r\nvarrella. Huone oli pian t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 niit\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6tarpeita, jotka olin ostanut\r\nrahoillani, ja ty\xc3\xb6ni jatkui s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llisesti ja menestyksellisesti,\r\nl\xc3\xa4heten loppuaan. Olin kuin mies, joka tunkeutuu esiin tiheik\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4 ja\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 tapaa tarkoituksettoman murhen\xc3\xa4ytelm\xc3\xa4n. Matkustin hautaamaan\r\nis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni. Mieleni oli yh\xc3\xa4 kiintynyt tutkimukseeni, enk\xc3\xa4 liikuttanut\r\nsormeakaan pelastaakseni h\xc3\xa4nen mainettaan. Muistan hautajaiset, halvat\r\nruumisvaunut, niukat juhlamenot, tuulisen, j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tyneen m\xc3\xa4enrinteen\r\nja h\xc3\xa4nen vanhan yliopistotoverinsa, joka siunasi h\xc3\xa4net -- se oli\r\nryysyinen, musta, kumarainen vanhus, joka kylmiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tuhisteli nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Muistan, kuinka menin takaisin tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kotiin sen tienoon kautta, joka\r\nkerran oli ollut kyl\xc3\xa4 ja jonka ahneet rakentajat olivat paikanneet\r\nja parsineet kaupungin rumaksi irvikuvaksi. Joka suunnalla ulottui\r\nmittariukuja h\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4istyille vainioille asti, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyen soral\xc3\xa4jiin ja\r\nreheviin, m\xc3\xa4rkiin rikkaruohoihin. Muistan itseni kuihtuneena, mustana\r\nhahmona kulkemassa pitkin liukasta, kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 jalkak\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ja minussa\r\nher\xc3\xa4si se outo tunne, ett\xc3\xa4 tuon paikan likainen arvokkuus ja t\xc3\xb6rke\xc3\xa4\r\nkauppahenki oli minulle vierasta...\r\n\r\n"En surrut is\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni rahtuakaan. H\xc3\xa4n tuntui minusta oman hupsun\r\ntuntehikkuutensa uhrilta. Tavallinen tekopyhyys vaati minun l\xc3\xa4sn\xc3\xa4oloani\r\nhautajaisissa, mutta se ei oikeastaan ollut minun asiani.\r\n\r\n"Mutta k\xc3\xa4velless\xc3\xa4ni Isoakatua pitkin palasi entinen el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ni v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ksi\r\naikaa mieleeni. Tapasin sen tyt\xc3\xb6n, jonka olin tuntenut kymmenen vuotta\r\nsitten. Meid\xc3\xa4n katseemme osuivat yhteen...\r\n\r\n"Jokin sai minut k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja puhelemaan h\xc3\xa4nen kanssaan. H\xc3\xa4n oli hyvin\r\njokap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4inen ihminen.\r\n\r\n"Kaikki oli kuin unta, koko t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4ynti vanhalla tutulla paikalla.\r\nEn tuntenut itse\xc3\xa4ni silloin yksin\xc3\xa4iseksi enk\xc3\xa4 huomannut joutuneeni\r\nmaailmasta autiuteen. Min\xc3\xa4 tajusin kyll\xc3\xa4 kadottaneeni my\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4tuntoni,\r\nmutta pidin siihen syyn\xc3\xa4 el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n yleist\xc3\xa4 tyhjyytt\xc3\xa4. Palatessani\r\nhuoneeseeni olin kuin j\xc3\xa4lleen tapaavinani todellisuuden. Siell\xc3\xa4 olivat\r\ntutut, rakastetut esineet. Siell\xc3\xa4 olivat ty\xc3\xb6kapineeni ja kokeeni\r\nvalmiina odottamassa. Eik\xc3\xa4 en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ollut juuri mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vaikeuksia j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4,\r\npaitsi yksityisseikkojen sovittelemista.\r\n\r\n"Kerron teille, Kemp, ennemmin tai my\xc3\xb6hemmin kaikki monimutkaiset\r\nvaiheet. Meid\xc3\xa4n ei nyt tarvitse niit\xc3\xa4 kosketella. Enimm\xc3\xa4kseen ne\r\novatkin numeroilla merkityt niihin kirjoihin, jotka se kulkuri\r\npiilotti, lukuunottamatta muutamia aukkoja, jotka mieluummin pid\xc3\xa4n\r\nmuistissani. Meid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy saada h\xc3\xa4net kiinni. Meid\xc3\xa4n on hankittava\r\nne kirjat takaisin. Mutta t\xc3\xa4rkein vaihe oli sijoittaa l\xc3\xa4pikuultava\r\nesine, jonka valontaittamista oli v\xc3\xa4hennett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4, kahden jonkinlaisen\r\neetteriv\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4htelyn keskuksen v\xc3\xa4liin, joista my\xc3\xb6hemmin kerron teille\r\nl\xc3\xa4hemmin. Ei -- ne eiv\xc3\xa4t ole R\xc3\xb6ntgen-s\xc3\xa4teiden v\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4htelyj\xc3\xa4. Luullakseni\r\nei n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 minun s\xc3\xa4teit\xc3\xa4ni olekaan kuvattu, mutta joka tapauksessa ne\r\novat kyllin selvi\xc3\xa4. Tarvitsin kaksi pient\xc3\xa4 dynamoa -- etusijassa,\r\nja ne sain toimeen halvalla kaasukoneella. Ensiksi kokeilin valkean\r\nvillakankaan palasella. Perin ihmeellist\xc3\xa4 oli n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 sen pehmenev\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nvaalenevan v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hdysten roihutessa ja sitten heikkenev\xc3\xa4n aivan kuin\r\nsavukiemuraksi ja katoavan.\r\n\r\n"Tuskin saatoin uskoa, ett\xc3\xa4 olin saanut sen toimeen. Ojensin k\xc3\xa4teni\r\ntyhjyyteen, ja siin\xc3\xa4 oli kangaspalanen yht\xc3\xa4 kiinte\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kuin konsanaan.\r\nTunnustelin sit\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6sti, niin ett\xc3\xa4 se putosi lattialle. Kesti v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\naikaa, ennenkuin taas l\xc3\xb6ysin sen.\r\n\r\n"Sitten sain kokea jotakin kummallista. Kuulin takanani naukumista\r\nja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyess\xc3\xa4ni n\xc3\xa4in laihan, valkean, hyvin likaisen kissan ikkunan\r\nulkopuolella vesis\xc3\xa4ili\xc3\xb6n kannella. Er\xc3\xa4s ajatus juolahti mieleeni.\r\n\'Kaikki on sinulle valmiina\', ajattelin ja menin ikkunan luo, avasin\r\nsen ja kutsuin hiljaa. Se tuli sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hyrr\xc3\xa4ten -- el\xc3\xa4in parka oli\r\nn\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- ja min\xc3\xa4 annoin sille v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n maitoa. Kaikki ruokani oli\r\nastiakaapissa huoneeni nurkassa. Sitten se kulki nuuskien ymp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nhuonetta tahtoen ilmeisesti kotiutua luokseni. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n vaatepalanen\r\nsai sen v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ymm\xc3\xa4lle. Kunpa olisitte n\xc3\xa4hnyt sen sylkev\xc3\xa4n siihen! Mutta\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 sovitin sen mukavasti pielukselle rullavuoteeseeni ja annoin sille\r\nvoita saadakseni sen pesem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\n"Ja te koettelitte keksint\xc3\xb6\xc3\xa4nne kissaan?"\r\n\r\n"Niin tein. Mutta eip\xc3\xa4 ole leikinasia antaa kissalle rohtoja, Kemp! Ja\r\nyritys ep\xc3\xa4onnistui."\r\n\r\n"Ep\xc3\xa4onnistui?"\r\n\r\n"Kahdessa kohdassa. Esteen\xc3\xa4 olivat kynnet ja erikoinen v\xc3\xa4riaine -- mik\xc3\xa4\r\nse onkaan? Kissan silm\xc3\xa4n takasein\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Tied\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n?"\r\n\r\n"_Tapetum_."\r\n\r\n"Niin, _tapetum_. Se ei menestynyt. Annettuani sit\xc3\xa4 ainetta, jonka\r\npiti valkaista veri, ja tehty\xc3\xa4ni sille er\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 muita temppuja, se sai\r\nooppiumia, ja sitten panin sen ja pieluksen, jolla se makasi, koneen\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle. Ja kun kaikki muu oli vaalennut ja kadonnut, olivat sen pienet\r\naavemaiset silm\xc3\xa4t j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Kummallista."\r\n\r\n"En osaa sit\xc3\xa4 selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Se oli tietenkin siteiss\xc3\xa4 ja lastoissa -- niin\r\nettei se p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt karkuun, mutta se her\xc3\xa4si ollessaan viel\xc3\xa4 huumaantunut\r\nja naukui surullisesti. Silloin joku koputti. Alakerrasta tuli vanha\r\nvaimo, joka ep\xc3\xa4ili minua el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4leikkaamisesta -- juopotteleva vanha\r\nhupsu, jolla koko maailmassa ei ollut muuta hoidettavaa kuin kissa.\r\nMin\xc3\xa4 otin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kloroformia, nukutin kissan ja avasin oven. \'Taisin\r\nkuulla kissan naukumista\', sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. \'Onko se minun kissani?\' \'Ei\r\nainakaan t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\', vastasin hyvin kohteliaasti. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nep\xc3\xa4luuloiselta ja koetti kurkistaa ohitseni huoneeseen, joka h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmielest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kaiketi n\xc3\xa4ytti hyvin omituiselta -- tyhj\xc3\xa4t sein\xc3\xa4t,\r\nverhottomat ikkunat, rullavuode, kaasulaite lepattamassa, s\xc3\xa4teilev\xc3\xa4t\r\npisteet levottomassa liikkeess\xc3\xa4 ja lis\xc3\xa4ksi ilmassa v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kloroformin\r\nhajua. H\xc3\xa4nen t\xc3\xa4ytyi lopulta tyyty\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 tiehens\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Kuinka kauan sit\xc3\xa4 kesti?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Kolme tai nelj\xc3\xa4 tuntia -- sen kissan koe. Luut ja j\xc3\xa4nteet ja rasva\r\nkatosivat viimeiseksi, ja v\xc3\xa4rillisten karvojen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t. Mutta, kuten\r\nsanoin, silmien takaosa ei ottanut haihtuakseen, se on sitke\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nsateenkaaren v\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xa4 ainetta.\r\n\r\n"Ulkona oli jo kauan ollut pime\xc3\xa4, ennenkuin se toimitus p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyi,\r\neik\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta voinut n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4t silm\xc3\xa4t ja kynnet. Min\xc3\xa4\r\npys\xc3\xa4ytin kaasukoneen, tunnustelin ja silitin elukkaa, joka oli viel\xc3\xa4\r\ntunnoton, irroitin sen siteet ja sitten, v\xc3\xa4synyt kun olin, j\xc3\xa4tin sen\r\nnukkumaan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4lle pielukselle ja menin vuoteeseen. Minun oli\r\nvaikea saada unta. Makasin hereill\xc3\xa4ni ajatellen jonninjoutavia asioita,\r\nkerraten mieless\xc3\xa4ni tuon kokeen yh\xc3\xa4 uudelleen tai uneksien kuumeisesti\r\nolennoista, jotka muuttuivat ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4ni ep\xc3\xa4selviksi ja katosivat,\r\nkunnes kaikki -- jopa pohjakin altani -- h\xc3\xa4ipyi n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4, ja niin\r\njouduin sellaisen sairaloisen, ahdistavan painajaisen valtaan kuin\r\njoskus sattuu. Noin kahden ajoissa alkoi kissa naukua ymp\xc3\xa4ri huonetta.\r\nKoetin vaientaa sit\xc3\xa4 puhelemalla sille ja sitten p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin ajaa sen ulos.\r\nMuistan, kuinka pel\xc3\xa4styin raapaistessani tulta -- ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt muuta kuin\r\npy\xc3\xb6re\xc3\xa4t, kiiluvat, vihre\xc3\xa4t silm\xc3\xa4t -- eik\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niiden ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4.\r\nOlisin antanut sille maitoa, mutta minulla ei ollut. Se ei tahtonut\r\npysy\xc3\xa4 hiljaa, vaan istuutui oven luo naukumaan. Koetin ottaa sit\xc3\xa4\r\nkiinni, aikoen ty\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sen ulos ikkunasta, mutta se ei antanut tarttua\r\nitseens\xc3\xa4, vaan katosi. Se naukui yh\xc3\xa4 eri paikoissa huoneessani. Vihdoin\r\navasin ikkunan ja aloin kolistella. Luullakseni se vihdoin meni ulos.\r\nEn ole sitten n\xc3\xa4hnyt tai kuullut siit\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Sitten -- ties miksi -- aloin taas ajatella is\xc3\xa4ni hautajaisia ja\r\nsynkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, tuulista m\xc3\xa4enrinnett\xc3\xa4, kunnes p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 valkeni. Huomasin\r\ntoivottomaksi koettaa nukkua ja sulkien oven j\xc3\xa4lkeeni l\xc3\xa4hdin aamulla\r\nk\xc3\xa4velem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pitkin katuja."\r\n\r\n"Ette suinkaan tahdo v\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 maailmassa nyt kiertelee N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nKissa?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Jollei sit\xc3\xa4 jo ole tapettu", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "Miksi ei?"\r\n\r\n"Miksi ei?" toisti Kemp. "En aikonut keskeytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Hyvin luultavasti se on tapettu", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "Tied\xc3\xa4n sen\r\nvarmasti el\xc3\xa4neen nelj\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sen j\xc3\xa4lkeen ja kuljeskelleen er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nristikkoportin luona Tichfield-kadulla, koska n\xc3\xa4in siell\xc3\xa4 seisoskelevan\r\nihmisjoukon, joka koetti ottaa selville, mist\xc3\xa4 naukuminen kuului."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n oli vaiti melkein minuutin ajan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n taas \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 jatkoi:\r\n\r\n"Muistan sen aamun ennen muuttumistani hyvinkin selv\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\n"Olin varmasti k\xc3\xa4vellyt Portland-katua pitkin, sill\xc3\xa4 muistan\r\nAlbany-kadun kasarmit ja ratsumiesten tulleen sielt\xc3\xa4 ulos, ja lopulta\r\nhuomasin istuvani auringonpaisteessa ja tunsin outoa pahoinvointia\r\nPrimrose-kukkulan huipulla. Oli aurinkoinen tammikuun p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 --\r\ntuollainen kirkas pakkasp\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4, joita oli t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 vuonna ennen lumen\r\ntuloa. V\xc3\xa4syneet aivoni koettivat aprikoida asemaa ja keksi\xc3\xa4 jotakin\r\ntoimintasuunnitelmaa.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styin huomatessani, ett\xc3\xa4 palkintoni oli nyt ulottuvissani,\r\nniin ep\xc3\xa4varmalta kuin sen saavuttaminen olikin n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt. Mutta nyt\r\nolin lopen uupunut, melkein nelivuotinen yht\xc3\xa4mittainen j\xc3\xa4nnitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\r\nty\xc3\xb6 oli tehnyt minut kykenem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi tuntemaan mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n voimakkaampaa\r\nliikutusta. Olin v\xc3\xa4linpit\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n ja koetin turhaan saada takaisin\r\nensimm\xc3\xa4isten tutkimusteni innostusta ja sit\xc3\xa4 keksimisvimmaa, joka oli\r\npannut minut kest\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n harmaantuneen is\xc3\xa4nikin sortumisen. Ei mill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt olevan arvoa. Tajusin kyll\xc3\xa4 selv\xc3\xa4sti, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oli vain\r\nohimenev\xc3\xa4 alakuloisuuden puuska, joka johtui liikarasituksesta ja\r\nunettomuudesta, ja ett\xc3\xa4 saisin tarmoni takaisin l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kkeill\xc3\xa4 tai levolla.\r\n\r\n"Ainoa, mit\xc3\xa4 voin selv\xc3\xa4sti ajatella, oli se, ett\xc3\xa4 asia oli toimitettava\r\nloppuun asti. Siit\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4npistosta en voinut vapautua. Ja se oli\r\nteht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 pian, sill\xc3\xa4 rahani olivat melkein lopussa. Katselin ymp\xc3\xa4rilleni\r\nm\xc3\xa4enrinteell\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 lapset leikkiv\xc3\xa4t palvelustytt\xc3\xb6jen vartioimina,\r\nja koetin ajatella kaikkia niit\xc3\xa4 eriskummaisia etuja, joita n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nmies saisi maailmassa. Jonkun ajan kuluttua k\xc3\xb6mmin kotiin, s\xc3\xb6in v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n,\r\notin aika annoksen strykniini\xc3\xa4 ja menin vaatteet p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 nukkumaan\r\nvuoteeseeni, jota ei ollut p\xc3\xb6yhitty... Strykniini on erinomaisen\r\nvahvistavaa, Kemp. Se karistaa ihmisest\xc3\xa4 velttouden."\r\n\r\n"Sep\xc3\xa4 hittoa", sanoi Kemp. "Se on kuin piru pullossa."\r\n\r\n"Her\xc3\xa4sin kovin vahvistuneena, melkeinp\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4rtyneen\xc3\xa4. Ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4ttek\xc3\xb6?"\r\n\r\n"Tunnen kyll\xc3\xa4 sen aineen."\r\n\r\n"Silloin joku koputti ovelle. Se oli is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ni, joka tuli uhkailemaan\r\nja kyselem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, vanha Puolan juutalainen, jolla oli pitk\xc3\xa4, harmaa takki\r\nja rasvaiset tohvelit. H\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4itti olevansa varma siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 olin\r\ny\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4 kiduttanut kissaa -- vanhan akan kieli oli tehnyt teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vaati minulta tietoa, kuinka sen laita oli. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n maan lait\r\nel\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4kiduttamista vastaan ovat hyvin ankarat -- h\xc3\xa4n voisi joutua\r\nvastuuseen siit\xc3\xa4 asiasta. Kielsin tiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ni mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kissasta. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi\r\noli pienen kaasukoneen v\xc3\xa4rin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 voitu kuulla l\xc3\xa4pi koko talon, sanoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n. Se oli tietysti totta. H\xc3\xa4n tunkeutui ohitseni huoneeseen ja\r\nkatseli ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen saksalaisten hopeasankaisten silm\xc3\xa4lasiensa yli.\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 her\xc3\xa4si mieless\xc3\xa4ni se pelko, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n voisi saada jotakin vihi\xc3\xa4\r\nsalaisuudestani. Koetin pysytell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen ja laatimani keskityskoneen\r\nv\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4, ja se teki h\xc3\xa4net vain entist\xc3\xa4 uteliaammaksi. Mit\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 muka\r\nhommasin? Miksi olin aina yksin ja salaper\xc3\xa4inen? Oliko se laillista?\r\nOliko se vaarallista? Min\xc3\xa4 en maksanut muuta kuin tavallisen vuokran.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen talonsa oli aina ollut eritt\xc3\xa4in arvossapidetty -- h\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4llisess\xc3\xa4\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 kiivas luontoni ei jaksanut en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pysy\xc3\xa4 aisoissa.\r\nK\xc3\xa4skin h\xc3\xa4nen menn\xc3\xa4 ulos. H\xc3\xa4n alkoi vastustella, jaaritella oikeudestaan\r\nk\xc3\xa4yd\xc3\xa4 joka huoneessa. Tartuin h\xc3\xa4nen kaulukseensa -- jokin repesi -- ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4n lensi viipottaen omaan k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Min\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4im\xc3\xa4ytin oven kiinni,\r\nkiersin sen lukkoon ja istuuduin v\xc3\xa4risten.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n piti aika melua ulkopuolella, mutta min\xc3\xa4 en v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4nyt siit\xc3\xa4, ja\r\nhetken kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4hti pois.\r\n\r\n"Mutta se toimitti asiassa ratkaisevan k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nteen. En tiennyt, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n\r\naikoi, enk\xc3\xa4 edes, kuinka pitk\xc3\xa4lle h\xc3\xa4nen valtansa ulottuisi. Uuteen\r\nhuoneistoon muuttaminen olisi merkinnyt viivytyst\xc3\xa4 -- minulla oli\r\nkaikkiaan vain kaksikymment\xc3\xa4 puntaa j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4, enimm\xc3\xa4kseen pankissa --\r\neik\xc3\xa4 minulla ollut siihen varaa. Pitik\xc3\xb6 kadota? Se oli v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4.\r\nSitten toimitettaisiin tutkinto, ja huoneeni puhdistettaisiin.\r\n\r\n"Ajatellessani, ett\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6ni mahdollisesti paljastuisi tai keskeytyisi\r\njuuri viime tingassa, suutuin ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin toimia. Kiiruhdin ulos,\r\nmukana kolme muistiinpanokirjaani ja shekkivihkoni -- ne ovat nyt\r\nsen kulkurin hallussa -- ja osoitin ne l\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 postikonttorista\r\nPortland-kadun varrelle er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen toimistoon, josta saa noutaa kirjeit\xc3\xa4\r\nja paketteja. Koetin menn\xc3\xa4 ulos hiljaa. Palatessani n\xc3\xa4in is\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4n\r\nastuvan rauhallisesti yl\xc3\xa4kertaan -- h\xc3\xa4n oli luullakseni kuullut oven\r\nsulkeutuvan. Olisitte nauranut n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4nne h\xc3\xa4nen hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nportaiden k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nteess\xc3\xa4 minun tullessani hurjaa vauhtia h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tuijotti minuun menness\xc3\xa4ni h\xc3\xa4nen ohitseen, ja min\xc3\xa4 paukautin oven\r\nkiinni, niin ett\xc3\xa4 talo tutisi. Kuulin h\xc3\xa4nen laahustavan yl\xc3\xb6s siihen\r\nkerrokseen, jossa huoneeni oli, ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4n ja l\xc3\xa4htev\xc3\xa4n taas alas. Aloin\r\nheti ty\xc3\xb6skennell\xc3\xa4 kojeillani.\r\n\r\n"Sain kaikki valmiiksi sin\xc3\xa4 iltana ja y\xc3\xb6n\xc3\xa4. Istuessani viel\xc3\xa4 niiden\r\nkemiallisten ainesten sairaloisen ja unettavan vaikutuksen alaisena,\r\njotka h\xc3\xa4vitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t veren v\xc3\xa4rin, kuului taas koputus ovelle. Se lakkasi,\r\naskeleet loittonivat, mutta tulivat takaisin. Sitten uudistui koputus.\r\nKoetettiin ty\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 jotakin oven alle -- sinist\xc3\xa4 paperia. Min\xc3\xa4 nousin\r\nvihanpuuskassa ja kiskaisin oven selkosel\xc3\xa4lleen. \'Mit\xc3\xa4 nyt?\' kysyin.\r\n\r\n"Siin\xc3\xa4 oli is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ni tuomassa h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6k\xc3\xa4sky\xc3\xa4 tai jotakin sentapaista. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nojensi sen minulle, n\xc3\xa4ki jotakin outoa k\xc3\xa4siss\xc3\xa4ni ja kohotti silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nkasvoihini.\r\n\r\n"Hetkisen h\xc3\xa4n tuijotti. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sti tolkuttoman huudahduksen,\r\npudotti kynttil\xc3\xa4n ja asiapaperin yhtaikaa ja menn\xc3\xa4 kompuroi pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pitkin portaille.\r\n\r\n"Vedin oven kiinni, kiersin sen lukkoon ja astuin kuvastimen luo.\r\nSilloin ymm\xc3\xa4rsin h\xc3\xa4nen kauhunsa... Kasvoni olivat valkeat kuin valkea\r\nkivi.\r\n\r\n"Mutta siin\xc3\xa4 oli kaikki hirve\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4. En ollut aavistanut sellaisia kipuja.\r\nY\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4, joka oli t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 viilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tuskaa, sairautta ja n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntymyst\xc3\xa4.\r\nHampaani kalisivat, vaikka ihoani poltti, ja koko ruumiini oli kuin\r\ntulessa, mutta min\xc3\xa4 makasin kuin j\xc3\xa4ykk\xc3\xa4 kuolema. Nyt ymm\xc3\xa4rsin,\r\nmiksi kissa oli naukunut siihen asti, kunnes sain annetuksi sille\r\nkloroformia. Onneksi asuin yksin ja avuttonna huoneessani. Toisinaan\r\nhuokailin ja voihkin ja puhelin. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 pysyin lujana... Menetin\r\ntajuntani ja her\xc3\xa4sin raukeana pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Tuska oli poissa. Luulin tappavani itseni, enk\xc3\xa4 siit\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4nyt. En\r\nmilloinkaan unohda silloista aamunkoittoa ja outoa kauhua n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4ni,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4teni olivat muuttuneet kuin himme\xc3\xa4ksi lasiksi, ja katsellessani,\r\nkuinka ne k\xc3\xa4viv\xc3\xa4t kirkkaammiksi ja ohuemmiksi valon lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyess\xc3\xa4,\r\nkunnes lopulta voin n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 niiden l\xc3\xa4pi huoneeni ruman ep\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rjestyksen,\r\nvaikka suljin l\xc3\xa4pikuultavat silm\xc3\xa4luomeni. J\xc3\xa4seneni muuttuivat\r\nlasimaisiksi, luut ja valtimot h\xc3\xa4ipyiv\xc3\xa4t kokonaan, ja pienet valkeat\r\nhermot h\xc3\xa4visiv\xc3\xa4t viimeiseksi. Purin hampaani yhteen ja kestin loppuun\r\nasti... Vihdoin j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t j\xc3\xa4ljelle vain kynsien elottomat reunat kalpeina\r\nja valkeina ja jokin sormiini tullut ruskea happotahra.\r\n\r\n"Ponnistausin pystyyn. Aluksi olin voimaton kuin kapalolapsi --\r\nkompuroin jaloilla, joita en voinut n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4. Olin heikko ja hyvin\r\nn\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4ni. Menin parranajokuvastimen eteen ja tuijotin tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n --\r\nminusta ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt muuta kuin silmieni verkkokalvon takana jotakin\r\nheikkoa v\xc3\xa4riainetta, joka oli sumuakin ohuempaa. Minun t\xc3\xa4ytyi nojata\r\np\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja painaa otsaani lasiin.\r\n\r\n"Vain hurjalla tahdonponnistuksella jaksoin laahautua j\xc3\xa4lleen koneen\r\nluo ja t\xc3\xa4ydent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 muutoksen.\r\n\r\n"Nukuin aamup\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n vet\xc3\xa4en lakanan silmilleni est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni valoa\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sem\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 niihin, ja puolip\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n tienoissa her\xc3\xa4sin koputukseen.\r\nVoimani oli palannut. Nousin istumaan, kuuntelin ja erotin kuiskauksia.\r\nHyp\xc3\xa4hdin seisomaan ja aloin niin \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neti kuin mahdollista irroittaa\r\nkoneeni liitteit\xc3\xa4, jaellen sen osia ymp\xc3\xa4ri huonetta, h\xc3\xa4vitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni\r\nkaikki ohjeet sen kokoonpanemiseksi. Sitten kuului taas koputusta ja\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni\xc3\xa4, ensiksi is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ni ja sitten kahden muun. Aikaa voittaakseni\r\nvastasin heille. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n kangaspalanen ja pielus sattuivat k\xc3\xa4siini.\r\nMin\xc3\xa4 avasin ikkunan ja pudotin ne alas vesis\xc3\xa4ili\xc3\xb6n kannelle. Samalla\r\nkun ikkuna aukeni, kuului ovelta kova jys\xc3\xa4hdys. Joku oli t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4nnyt\r\nsit\xc3\xa4 vastaan aikoen murtaa lukon. Mutta ne tukevat salvat, jotka olin\r\nruuvannut siihen muutamia p\xc3\xa4ivi\xc3\xa4 aikaisemmin, pid\xc3\xa4ttiv\xc3\xa4t miest\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\nhy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4ys pel\xc3\xa4stytti minua ja suututti. Aloin vavista ja kiirehti\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Ker\xc3\xa4sin kokoon joitakin irtonaisia papereita, olkia, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4repaperia ja\r\nniin edesp\xc3\xa4in huoneen keskelle ja avasin kaasujohdon. Raskaita iskuja\r\nalkoi jys\xc3\xa4hdell\xc3\xa4 ovelle. En voinut l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tulitikkuja. Raivoissani\r\nl\xc3\xb6in sein\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nyrkeill\xc3\xa4ni. K\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsin j\xc3\xa4lleen kaasujohdon kiinni, hypp\xc3\xa4sin\r\nulos ikkunasta vesis\xc3\xa4ili\xc3\xb6n kannelle, suljin j\xc3\xa4lleen ikkunanpuoliskon\r\nja istuuduin turvallisena ja n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, mutta vihasta v\xc3\xa4risten,\r\nkatselemaan tapausten kulkua. Min\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in heid\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4rkev\xc3\xa4n laudoituksen\r\ner\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 kohdasta, ja samassa he olivat murtaneet salpojen sinkil\xc3\xa4t ja\r\nseisoivat oviaukossa. Siin\xc3\xa4 olivat is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ja h\xc3\xa4nen kaksi poikapuoltaan\r\n-- kahdenkymmenen kolmen tai nelj\xc3\xa4n vuotiaita vahvoja miehi\xc3\xa4. Heid\xc3\xa4n\r\ntakanaan touhusi heti alakerran vanha akka.\r\n\r\n"Voitte kuvailla heid\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styst\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kun he huomasivat huoneen\r\ntyhj\xc3\xa4ksi. Toinen nuorista miehist\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6ksyi heti ikkunan luo, ty\xc3\xb6nsi\r\nsen auki ja katseli ulos. H\xc3\xa4nen tuijottavat silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja paksuhuulinen,\r\npartainen naamansa tuli jalan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kasvoistani. Teki melkein mieleni\r\nly\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4 vasten h\xc3\xa4nen tyhm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuonoaan, mutta pidin kuitenkin kurissa\r\nnyrkkini.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n katseli suoraan l\xc3\xa4vitseni. Samoin toisetkin, jotka tulivat h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nluokseen. Vanhus meni kurkistamaan vuoteen alle, ja sitten kaikki\r\nhy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t astiakaapille. Heid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyi lopulta keskustella asiasta\r\njuutalaisten kielell\xc3\xa4 ja lontoolaisten murteella. He tulivat siihen\r\njohtop\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6kseen, etten ollutkaan vastannut heille, vaan ett\xc3\xa4 heid\xc3\xa4n\r\nmielikuvituksensa oli pett\xc3\xa4nyt. Tavattoman ylpeyden tunne tuli vihani\r\nsijalle katsellessani ikkunan ulkopuolelta noita nelj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ihmist\xc3\xa4 --\r\nsill\xc3\xa4 vanha eukkokin tuli sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4hyillen ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen ep\xc3\xa4luuloisesti\r\nkuin kissa -- kun he siin\xc3\xa4 koettivat arvata, minne olin mennyt.\r\n\r\n"Ukko, sik\xc3\xa4li kuin ymm\xc3\xa4rsin h\xc3\xa4nen kieltensekoitustaan, oli eukon kanssa\r\nyht\xc3\xa4 mielt\xc3\xa4 siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 harjoitin el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4leikkaamista. Pojat\r\nv\xc3\xa4ittiv\xc3\xa4t siistityll\xc3\xa4 englanninkielell\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 olin s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6taituri ja\r\nvetosivat dynamoihin ja radiaattoreihin. He pelk\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t hermostuneina\r\nminun palaavan, vaikka huomasinkin j\xc3\xa4ljest\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4in, ett\xc3\xa4 he olivat panneet\r\nulko-oven salpaan. Vanha eukko kurkisti astiakaappiin ja vuoteen\r\nalle. Muuan toinen vuokralainen, vihanneskaupustelija, joka asui\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n teurastajan kanssa vastap\xc3\xa4isess\xc3\xa4 huoneessa, ilmestyi portaiden\r\nyl\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4net kutsuttiin sis\xc3\xa4lle, ja h\xc3\xa4n sai kuulla sekavia asioita.\r\n\r\n"Mieleeni juolahti, ett\xc3\xa4 ne erikoiset radiaattorit, jotka minulla\r\noli, voisivat jonkun \xc3\xa4lykk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sivistyneen ihmisen k\xc3\xa4siin joutuessaan\r\nilmaista minut liian selv\xc3\xa4sti. Niinp\xc3\xa4 otin tilaisuudesta vaarin,\r\nlaskeuduin ikkunalaudalta huoneeseen ja v\xc3\xa4istyen syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vanhan eukon\r\ntielt\xc3\xa4 kallistin toisen pienen dynamon irti toisesta, jonka p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 se\r\nseisoi, ja l\xc3\xb6in murskaksi molemmat. Kuinka he kauhistuivatkaan!...\r\nHeid\xc3\xa4n koettaessaan selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4iskin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pujahdin ulos huoneesta ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4hdin hiljaa alakertaan.\r\n\r\n"Menin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen arkihuoneeseen ja odotin, kunnes he tulivat alas yh\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4itellen ja esitt\xc3\xa4en arveluitaan, kaikki v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n pettynein\xc3\xa4, kun eiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nolleet l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4neet mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n \'kauhistuttavaa\', ja my\xc3\xb6s v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ymm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 siit\xc3\xa4,\r\nmillainen heid\xc3\xa4n suhteensa minuun oli lain mukaan. Heti kun he olivat\r\nmenneet alas pohjakerrokseen, pujahdin j\xc3\xa4lleen yl\xc3\xb6s tulitikkulaatikko\r\nk\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4ni ja sytytin kasan, johon olin ker\xc3\xa4nnyt papereita ja muuta\r\nt\xc3\xb6rky\xc3\xa4, panin tuolit ja vuoteen sen viereen, johdin siihen kaasua\r\nkumiputken avulla..."\r\n\r\n"Sytytittek\xc3\xb6 talon?" huudahti Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Sytytin. Se oli ainoa keino, jolla sain j\xc3\xa4lkeni peitetyiksi, ja\r\nep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 talo oli vakuutettu... Avasin hiljaa ulko-oven salvat ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4hdin ulos kadulle. Olin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n, ja vasta silloin aloin k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nmik\xc3\xa4 erikoinen etu minulla oli n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myydest\xc3\xa4ni. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4ni ihan\r\nvilisi kaikenlaisia hurjia ja ihmeellisi\xc3\xa4 asioita, joita nyt sain\r\nrankaisematta suunnitella ja toimittaa."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nYHDESKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nOxford-kadulla.\r\n\r\n\r\nMenness\xc3\xa4ni alakertaan ensimm\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 kertaa, huomasin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\naavistamattoman vaikeuden, kun en voinut n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 jalkojani. Pari kertaa\r\nkompastuinkin ja olin odottamattoman k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6 tarttuessani ovenripaan.\r\nMutta kun en katsellut alas, osasin kohtalaisen hyvin k\xc3\xa4vell\xc3\xa4\r\nvaakasuoralla pinnalla.\r\n\r\n"Saatte uskoa, ett\xc3\xa4 mielentilani oli kiihtynyt. Minusta tuntui\r\nsamanlaiselta kuin tuntuisi n\xc3\xa4kev\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 miehest\xc3\xa4, jolla on vanua\r\njalkapohjissa ja kahisemattomat vaatteet sokeain kaupungissa. Minussa\r\nher\xc3\xa4si hurja halu olla vallaton, pel\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ihmisi\xc3\xa4, ly\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4 heit\xc3\xa4\r\nselk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, viskell\xc3\xa4 toisten hattuja hukkaan ja ylimalkaan mellastaa\r\ntavattoman etuni turvissa.\r\n\r\n"Mutta tuskin olin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt Portland-kadulle (asuntoni oli siell\xc3\xa4\r\nl\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 suurta kangasmyym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4), kun kuulin pahaa kalinaa ja sain\r\nkovan iskun takaap\xc3\xa4in. K\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnytty\xc3\xa4ni n\xc3\xa4in miehen kantavan korillista\r\nsoodavesikarahveja ja katselevan h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4 taakkaansa.\r\nVaikka yhteent\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4ys oli todellakin satuttanut minua, oli h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n jotakin niin hassunkurista, ett\xc3\xa4 purskahdin kovaan\r\nnauruun. \'Korissa on piru\', sanoin ja v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsin sen \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 irti h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nk\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n ei osannut vastustella, ja min\xc3\xa4 heilautin koko taakan\r\nyl\xc3\xb6s ilmaan.\r\n\r\n"Mutta muuan ajurihoukkio, joka seisoi er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kapakan ulkopuolella,\r\nhy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 paikalle, ja h\xc3\xa4nen ojennetut sormensa tarttuivat\r\nkiusallisen lujasti korvani alapuolelle. Pudotin kaikki karahvit ajurin\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle, niin ett\xc3\xa4 ne s\xc3\xa4rkyiv\xc3\xa4t. Silloin k\xc3\xa4sitin, kuinka tyhm\xc3\xa4sti olin\r\nmenetellyt, sill\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4ni kuulin huutoja ja askelten kopinaa ja\r\nn\xc3\xa4in ihmisi\xc3\xa4 tulevan ulos myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4 ja ajoneuvojen pys\xc3\xa4htyv\xc3\xa4n, ja\r\nkiroten hupsuuttani per\xc3\xa4ydyin er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n ikkunaa kohti ja aioin\r\npujahtaa pois t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 metelist\xc3\xa4. Hetkisen kuluttua olisin pusertunut\r\nv\xc3\xa4kijoukon keskelle ja ehdottomasti tullut ilmi. Ty\xc3\xb6nsin syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nteurastajan s\xc3\xa4llin. Onneksi h\xc3\xa4n ei k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntynyt katsomaan sit\xc3\xa4 tyhjyytt\xc3\xa4,\r\njoka oli sys\xc3\xa4nnyt h\xc3\xa4net tielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Sitten kiersin ajurin nelipy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4isten\r\nrattaitten takaa. En tied\xc3\xa4, mill\xc3\xa4 lailla he selittiv\xc3\xa4t t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n jutun.\r\nMin\xc3\xa4 kiiruhdin suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kadun poikki, joka onneksi oli vapaa, ja\r\ntuskin v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4en siit\xc3\xa4 minne p\xc3\xa4in kuljin pel\xc3\xa4ten ilmitulemistani, mik\xc3\xa4\r\noli \xc3\xa4sken ollut niin l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4, sy\xc3\xb6ksyin Oxford-kadun iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4iseen\r\ntungokseen.\r\n\r\n"Koetin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ihmisvirtaan, mutta se oli liian tihe\xc3\xa4, jotta olisin\r\nsinne sopinut, ja heti astuttiin kantap\xc3\xa4illeni. Siirryin katuojaan,\r\nmutta sen karkea pohja teki jalkapohjille kipe\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ja er\xc3\xa4iden hitaasti\r\nkulkevien kaksipy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4isten rattaitten aisa t\xc3\xb6ytt\xc3\xa4si kovasti lapaluuni\r\nalapuolelle, muistuttaen minulle, ett\xc3\xa4 olin jo saanut vakavan\r\nruhjevamman. Hoipertelin syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n rattaitten tielt\xc3\xa4, v\xc3\xa4ltin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\r\nlapsenvaunut kouristuksen tapaisella liikkeell\xc3\xa4 ja huomasin olevani\r\n\xc3\xa4skeisten k\xc3\xa4rryjen takana. Silloin minut pelasti onnellinen ajatus, ja\r\nkun k\xc3\xa4rryt kulkivat hitaasti eteenp\xc3\xa4in, seurasin heti niiden takana,\r\nvavisten ja h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4llaisesta k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nteest\xc3\xa4 seikkailussani, enk\xc3\xa4\r\nainoastaan vavisten, vaan kylm\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4risten. Oli kirkas tammikuun p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\r\nja min\xc3\xa4 olin ilkosen alasti. Se ohut lieju, joka peitti katua, oli\r\nmelkein j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Niin hullulta kuin se nyt minusta n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kin, en ollut\r\nottanut lukuun, ett\xc3\xa4 vaikka olinkin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n, minun kuitenkin t\xc3\xa4ytyi\r\ntuntea kaikkia ulkoilman vaikutuksia.\r\n\r\n"Silloin v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ni sukkela ajatus. Juoksin k\xc3\xa4rryjen viereen\r\nja nousin niihin, ja niin ajoin hitaasti pitkin Oxford-katua ja\r\nTottenham Court Roadin ohi v\xc3\xa4risev\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja s\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4htyneen\xc3\xa4, nen\xc3\xa4ni\r\ntuhisten ensimm\xc3\xa4isist\xc3\xa4 vilustumisen enteist\xc3\xa4 ja selk\xc3\xa4ni ruhjevammojen\r\nkiinnitt\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4 yh\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n huomiotani. Mielialani ei suinkaan ollut sama\r\nkuin sy\xc3\xb6stess\xc3\xa4ni ulos kymmenen minuuttia sitten, vaan niin erilainen\r\nkuin suinkin voi kuvitella. _T\xc3\xa4llainen_ n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys tosiaankin! Nyt\r\najattelin vain sit\xc3\xa4, kuinka p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sisin pois t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pinteest\xc3\xa4, johon olin\r\njoutunut.\r\n\r\n"Ajoimme hitaasti Mudien ohi, ja sitten kutsui n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4rryt luokseen\r\ner\xc3\xa4s iso nainen, jolla oli viisi kuusi keltaisilla nimilapuilla\r\nvarustettua kirjaa. Min\xc3\xa4 hyp\xc3\xa4hdin alas juuri parhaiksi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4kseni\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen tielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja hipaisin lent\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4ni er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 rautatien tavaravaunua.\r\nL\xc3\xa4hdin astelemaan Bloomsbury Squarelle johtavaa ajotiet\xc3\xa4, aikoen\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nty\xc3\xa4 pohjoiseen museon toisella puolen ja siten p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nrauhallisemmalle alueelle. Olin nyt hirve\xc3\xa4sti vilustunut, ja minun\r\nasemani outous hermostutti minua niin, ett\xc3\xa4 juostessani valittelin.\r\nTorin l\xc3\xa4nsinurkassa hyp\xc3\xa4hti pieni valkea koira ulos apteekista ja l\xc3\xa4hti\r\nhurjasti viilett\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n minua kohti kuono alhaalla.\r\n\r\n"En ollut milloinkaan ennen tullut ajatelleeksi, ett\xc3\xa4 kuono merkitsee\r\nkoiralla samaa kuin silm\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kev\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ihmisell\xc3\xa4. Koirat huomaavat\r\nliikkuvan ihmisen hajun samoin kuin ihmiset h\xc3\xa4nen n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4n olemuksensa.\r\nPikku peto alkoi haukkua ja loikkia ja ilmaisi minun mielest\xc3\xa4ni\r\nliiankin selv\xc3\xa4sti huomanneensa minut. Riensin Russell-kadun poikki\r\nkatsellen samalla olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni yli ja kuljin jonkin matkaa pitkin\r\nMontague-katua, ennenkuin tajusin, minne p\xc3\xa4in juoksin.\r\n\r\n"Sitten kuulin soitonr\xc3\xa4min\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja katsahtaessani pitkin katua n\xc3\xa4in\r\njoukon ihmisi\xc3\xa4 olevan tulossa Russell-torilta, punaisia nuttuja ja\r\npelastusarmeijan lippu etunen\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. En voinut toivoa voivani tunkeutua\r\nsellaisen v\xc3\xa4kijoukon l\xc3\xa4pi, kun toiset veisasivat ajotiell\xc3\xa4, toiset\r\nilkkuivat katuk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4vill\xc3\xa4, ja kun pelk\xc3\xa4sin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nty\xc3\xa4 takaisin ja joutua\r\nyh\xc3\xa4 kauemmas asunnostani, seurasin \xc3\xa4killist\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4npistoa ja juoksin\r\nmuseon aitaa vastap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 olevan talon valkeita portaita yl\xc3\xb6s ja seisoin\r\nsiin\xc3\xa4, kunnes v\xc3\xa4kijoukko olisi kulkenut ohi. Onneksi koira pys\xc3\xa4htyi\r\nkuullessaan soittokunnan h\xc3\xa4lin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, oli kahden vaiheilla, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi ymp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nja juoksi takaisin Bloomsbury Squarelle.\r\n\r\n"Soittokunta tuli kohdalleni r\xc3\xa4mist\xc3\xa4en itsetiedottoman ivallisesti\r\njotakin virtt\xc3\xa4: \'Koska saamme H\xc3\xa4net n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4?\' ja minusta tuntui\r\nloppumattoman pitk\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4, ennenkuin v\xc3\xa4kijoukko vy\xc3\xb6ryi jalkak\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\npitkin ohitseni. Pom, pom pom ... jymisi rumpu, enk\xc3\xa4 sill\xc3\xa4 hetkell\xc3\xa4\r\nhuomannut, kuinka kaksi poikanulikkaa pys\xc3\xa4htyi aidalle viereeni.\r\n\'Katsoppas noita\', sanoi toinen. \'Katsoppas mit\xc3\xa4?\' kysyi toinen. \'No,\r\nnoita jalanj\xc3\xa4lki\xc3\xa4, paljaita. Samanlaisia kuin liejuunkin j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\'"\r\n\r\n"Katsahdin maahan ja n\xc3\xa4in poikien pys\xc3\xa4htyneen t\xc3\xb6llistelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niit\xc3\xa4\r\nmutaisia j\xc3\xa4lki\xc3\xa4, jotka olin j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt \xc3\xa4sken valkaistuille portaille.\r\nOhikulkevat ihmiset tyrkkiv\xc3\xa4t heit\xc3\xa4, mutta heid\xc3\xa4n kirottu j\xc3\xa4rkens\xc3\xa4 oli\r\ntakertunut j\xc3\xa4lkiini. \'Pom, pom, pom, koska, pom, saamme H\xc3\xa4net, pom,\r\nn\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4, pom, pom.\' \'Paljasjalkainen mies on mennyt yl\xc3\xb6s portaita, tai\r\nsitten en ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\', virkkoi toinen. \'Eik\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n ole ollenkaan\r\ntullut alas. Ja h\xc3\xa4nen jalkansa on vuotanut verta.\'\r\n\r\n"Tihein ihmisjoukko oli jo kulkenut ohi. \'Katsohan, Teddy virkkoi\r\nnuorempi noista salapoliiseista perin h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneell\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ja osoitti\r\nsuoraan jalkoihini. Vilkaisin alas ja n\xc3\xa4in heti jalkojeni ulkopiirteet\r\nliejupirskeiden merkitsemin\xc3\xa4. Hetkiseksi ihan halvaannuin."\r\n\r\n"\'Sep\xc3\xa4 vasta kummallista!\' sanoi vanhempi. \'Hiton kummallista! Siin\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\non aivan kuin jalan kummitus, eik\xc3\xb6 ole?\' H\xc3\xa4n ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i ja l\xc3\xa4heni k\xc3\xa4si\r\nojennettuna. Er\xc3\xa4s mies pys\xc3\xa4htyi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4kseen, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tavoitteli,\r\nja sitten muuan tytt\xc3\xb6. Seuraavalla hetkell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n olisi koskettanut\r\nminuun. Silloin huomasin, mit\xc3\xa4 oli teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4. Astuin askeleen, poika\r\nh\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4hti taaksep\xc3\xa4in ja huudahti, ja kiivaasti hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sin\r\nseuraavan talon pylv\xc3\xa4sk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Mutta pienempi poika oli kyllin\r\ntarkka pit\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n silm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 liikkeit\xc3\xa4ni, ja ennenkuin olin kunnollisesti\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt portaita alas jalkak\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lle, oli h\xc3\xa4n toipunut hetkellisest\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja huusi, ett\xc3\xa4 jalat olivat menneet aidan yli.\r\n\r\n"He riensiv\xc3\xa4t katsomaan ja keksiv\xc3\xa4t uusien j\xc3\xa4lkieni tulevan n\xc3\xa4kyviin\r\nalemmalla portaalla ja jalkak\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"\'Mit\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4 on?\' kysyi joku.\r\n\r\n"Jalkoja! Katsokaa! Jalat juoksevat!\'\r\n\r\n"Jokainen kadulla kulkeva, kolmea takaa-ajajaani lukuunottamatta,\r\nsy\xc3\xb6ksyi eteenp\xc3\xa4in pelastusarmeijan j\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4, ja t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 tungos esti niin\r\nhyvin minua kuin heit\xc3\xa4kin. H\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneet huudahdukset ja kysymykset\r\nkuuluivat yhten\xc3\xa4 sorinana. Hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pojan yli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sin l\xc3\xa4vitse,\r\nja heti sitten juoksin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4pahkaa Russell-torin ymp\xc3\xa4ri, kuuden tai\r\nseitsem\xc3\xa4n kummastuneen ihmisen seuratessa askelteni j\xc3\xa4lki\xc3\xa4. Ei ollut\r\naikaa mihink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n selityksiin, sill\xc3\xa4 muuten olisi koko lauma ollut\r\nkintereill\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\n"Kahdesti k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyin kadunkulmista, kolme kertaa juoksin kadun poikki\r\nja palasin omille j\xc3\xa4ljilleni. Kun jalkani l\xc3\xa4mpeniv\xc3\xa4t ja kuivuivat,\r\nalkoivat kosteat j\xc3\xa4ljet h\xc3\xa4vit\xc3\xa4. Lopulta sain aikaa heng\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni,\r\nhieroin jalkani puhtaiksi k\xc3\xa4sill\xc3\xa4ni ja niin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sin kokonaan\r\nvapaaksi. Viimeiseksi n\xc3\xa4in tuosta laumasta ehk\xc3\xa4 kymmenkunnan hengen\r\nryhm\xc3\xa4n tutkimassa suunnattomasti h\xc3\xa4mill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4hitellen\r\nkuivuvaa jalanj\xc3\xa4lke\xc3\xa4, joka oli johtunut survaisusta l\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n\r\nTavistock-aukeamalla ja joka oli heille yht\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n kuin Crusoen\r\nyksin\xc3\xa4inen l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xb6.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 juokseminen l\xc3\xa4mmitti minua jonkun verran, ja nyt jatkoin\r\nrohkeammalla mielell\xc3\xa4 matkaani sik\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4isten monimutkaisten katujen\r\nkautta, joilla oli v\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4n liikett\xc3\xa4. Selk\xc3\xa4ni oli k\xc3\xa4ynyt hyvin j\xc3\xa4yk\xc3\xa4ksi\r\nja kipe\xc3\xa4ksi, nielurauhasiani pakottivat ajurin sormien j\xc3\xa4ljet, ja\r\nkaulastani olivat h\xc3\xa4nen kyntens\xc3\xa4 repineet ihon rikki; jalkani olivat\r\npahasti vialla, ja toiseen jalkaani tullut haava pakotti minut\r\nontumaan. Huomasin ajoissa er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sokean miehen, joka tuli vastaani,\r\nja pakenin liikaten, sill\xc3\xa4 pelk\xc3\xa4sin h\xc3\xa4nen ter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vaistoaan. Kerran\r\ntai pari sattui jokin yhteent\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4ys, ja ihmiset j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t kummeksumaan\r\nkorvissaan kaikuneita selitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4 kirouksia. Sitten tuli\r\nkasvoilleni jotakin hiljaista ja rauhallista, ja maahan laskeutui ohuen\r\nharson tapaan hitaasti leijailevia lumihiutaleita. Olin vilustunut,\r\nja vaikka kuinka koetin, en voinut pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4yty\xc3\xa4 silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in\r\naivastamasta. Ja jokainen koira, joka tuli n\xc3\xa4kyviin kuono pitk\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nuteliaasti nuuskien, oli minulle kauhistus.\r\n\r\n"Sitten tuli juosten miehi\xc3\xa4 ja poikia, ensin yksi sitten useampia.\r\nHe huusivat, ett\xc3\xa4 jossakin oli tulipalo, ja juoksivat sinnep\xc3\xa4in,\r\nmiss\xc3\xa4 asuin, ja katsahtaessani taakseni pitkin katua n\xc3\xa4in mustan\r\nsavupilven kohoavan kattojen ja puhelinlankojen yl\xc3\xa4puolella. Olin\r\nvarma siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 tulipalo riehui juuri minun asunnossani. Kaikki\r\nvaatteeni, koneeni, suorastaan koko omaisuuteni paitsi shekkikirjani ja\r\nkolmea nidosta muistiinpanojani, jotka odottivat minua Portland-kadun\r\nvarrella, olivat siell\xc3\xa4. Ne paloivat! Olin polttanut sillat takanani --\r\njos koskaan ihminen on niin tehnyt! Koko seutu leimusi."\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies vaikeni ja mietti. Kemp katsahti hermostuneesti ulos\r\nikkunasta. "Niinp\xc3\xa4 niin", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "jatkakaa".\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKAHDESKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nTavaravarastossa\r\n\r\n\r\n"Viime tammikuussa siis, lumipyryn alkaessa -- joka ilmaisisi minut,\r\njos lumi j\xc3\xa4isi minuun kiinni! -- v\xc3\xa4syneen\xc3\xa4, vilustuneena, kipe\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4,\r\nsanomattoman kurjana ja vain puolittain varmana n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myydess\xc3\xa4ni\r\naloitin t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n uuden el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n, johon olen tuomittu. Minulla ei ollut\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n turvapaikkaa, ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4lineit\xc3\xa4, ei koko maailmassa\r\nainoatakaan ihmisolentoa, johon olisin voinut luottaa. Jos olisin\r\nkertonut salaisuuteni, olisin ilmaissut itseni -- tehnyt itsest\xc3\xa4ni\r\npelk\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4yttelyesineen ja harvinaisuuden. Sittenkin minun teki\r\npuolittain mieleni puhutella jotakuta ohikulkevaa ja antautua h\xc3\xa4nen\r\narmoilleen. Mutta tiesin liiankin selv\xc3\xa4sti, millaista kauhua ja\r\nraakaa t\xc3\xb6ykeytt\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hentymisyritykseni her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4isi. En tehnyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsuunnitelmia kadulla. Ainoana pyrkimyksen\xc3\xa4ni oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 suojaan\r\nlumelta, saada itseni verhotuksi ja l\xc3\xa4mpim\xc3\xa4ksi. Vasta silloin voin\r\ntoivoa pystyv\xc3\xa4ni suunnittelemaan. Mutta minultakin, N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4\r\nMiehelt\xc3\xa4, pysyiv\xc3\xa4t Lontoon talorivit suljettuina, lukittuina ja\r\nj\xc3\xa4rkkym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti teljettyin\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Vain yksi asia oli selv\xc3\xa4sti edess\xc3\xa4ni -- kylmyys, lumimyrskyn k\xc3\xa4siin\r\njoutuminen, kurjuus ja y\xc3\xb6.\r\n\r\n"Silloin juolahti mieleeni loistava ajatus. L\xc3\xa4hdin astumaan er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nGower-kadulta Tottenham Court Roadille johtavaa katua pitkin ja\r\nhuomasin olevani Omniumin, sen suuren kauppaliikkeen edustalla, josta\r\nsaa ostaa kaikenlaista -- tied\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n sen paikan: lihaa, mausteita,\r\npalttinaa, huonekaluja, vaatteita, viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xb6ljymaalauksiakin --\r\npikemmin monimutkainen, suunnaton kokoelma myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xb6it\xc3\xa4 kuin yksi\r\nmyym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4. Olin luullut tapaavani ovet auki, mutta ne olivatkin kiinni.\r\nSeisoessani avarassa sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 pys\xc3\xa4htyiv\xc3\xa4t er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t ajoneuvot\r\nsen eteen, ja virkapukuinen mies -- tied\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n, sellainen, jolla on\r\ntuon liikkeen nimi \'Omnium\' lakissaan -- kiskaisi oven auki. Minun\r\nonnistui pujahtaa sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja astuessani eteenp\xc3\xa4in myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 -- se\r\noli se osasto, miss\xc3\xa4 myyd\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n nauhoja ja hansikkaita ja sukkia ja\r\nmuuta senlaatuista tavaraa -- jouduin tilavampaan osastoon, jossa oli\r\nev\xc3\xa4svasuja ja vitsoista tehtyj\xc3\xa4 huonekaluja.\r\n\r\n"Mutta en tuntenut itse\xc3\xa4ni siell\xc3\xa4 turvalliseksi, ihmisi\xc3\xa4 kulki\r\nedestakaisin, ja min\xc3\xa4 hiiviskelin sinne t\xc3\xa4nne rauhattomasti, kunnes\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sin yl\xc3\xa4kerroksen suureen osastoon, jossa oli paljon vuodevaatteita.\r\nKapusin niiden yli ja l\xc3\xb6ysin lopulta lepopaikan keskell\xc3\xa4 suunnatonta\r\nkasaa villamatrasseja. Siell\xc3\xa4 oli jo sytytetty lamput, ja kun l\xc3\xa4mmin\r\nteki minulle hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4d\xc3\xa4 piilopaikkaani ja sulkemisaikaan asti\r\nvaroa niit\xc3\xa4 muutamia myyji\xc3\xa4 ja ostajia, jotka siell\xc3\xa4 liikuskelivat.\r\nSitten kuvittelin voivani varastaa sielt\xc3\xa4 ruokaa ja vaatteita ja\r\nvalepuvun, hiiviskell\xc3\xa4 tutkimassa, mit\xc3\xa4 hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4 oli, ja ehk\xc3\xa4\r\nnukkua joillakin vuodevaatteilla. Se n\xc3\xa4ytti kelpo suunnitelmalta.\r\nAikomuksenani oli hankkia vaatteet, jotta olisin umpeen verhottu, mutta\r\nmukiinmenev\xc3\xa4 olento, saada rahaa ja sitten noutaa kirjani sielt\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4\r\nne odottivat minua, asettua jonnekin asumaan ja punoa suunnitelmia\r\nk\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni t\xc3\xa4ydellisesti hyv\xc3\xa4kseni kaikkia niit\xc3\xa4 etuja, joita\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myyteni, niinkuin yh\xc3\xa4 kuvittelin, soi minulle l\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4isteni\r\nrinnalla.\r\n\r\n"Sulkemisaika tulikin pian. Ei kest\xc3\xa4nyt enemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuin tunnin verran\r\nasettumisestani patjoille, kun huomasin ikkunankaihtimia vedett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\nalas ja ostajia opastettavan ulos. Ja sitten alkoivat muutamat ripe\xc3\xa4t\r\nnuorukaiset huomattavan innokkaasti sovitella paikoilleen niit\xc3\xa4\r\ntavaroita, jotka olivat joutuneet ep\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rjestykseen. Min\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hdin\r\npes\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4ni joukon harventuessa ja hiivin varovasti pois myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n\r\nv\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4n autioihin paikkoihin. Sain todellakin h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4sty\xc3\xa4 huomatessani,\r\nkuinka nopeasti nuoret miehet ja naiset korjasivat ne tavarat, jotka\r\noli p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n kuluessa levitetty myyt\xc3\xa4viksi. Kaikki tavaralaatikot,\r\nriippuvat kankaat, pitsikiehkurat, makeislaatikot sekatavarakaupan\r\npuolella, kaikenlaiset n\xc3\xa4ytetavarat otettiin esille, taivutettiin\r\nkokoon ja pistettiin siisteihin s\xc3\xa4ili\xc3\xb6ihins\xc3\xa4, ja kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 ei\r\nvoitu ottaa alas ja siirt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, peitettiin jonkinlaisella\r\nkarkealla, s\xc3\xa4kintapaisella kankaalla. Lopuksi nostettiin kaikki\r\ntuolit myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6ydille, joten lattia j\xc3\xa4i tyhj\xc3\xa4ksi. Heti kun joku\r\nn\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 nuorista ihmisist\xc3\xa4 oli saanut ty\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4 tehdyksi, riensi h\xc3\xa4n\r\novelle niin pirte\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 harvoin olen huomannut sellaista\r\nilmett\xc3\xa4 kauppa-apulaisilla. Sitten saapui paikalle joukko nuorta\r\nv\xc3\xa4ke\xc3\xa4, sirotellen lattialle sahajauhoja ja kantaen sankoja ja luutia.\r\nMinun oli mutkiteltava pysy\xc3\xa4kseni poissa heid\xc3\xa4n tielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja samalla\r\npisteliv\xc3\xa4t sahajauhot jalkapohjiani. Jonkin aikaa saatoin kuulla\r\nluutien kahinaa harhaillessani pimenev\xc3\xa4n huoneiston l\xc3\xa4pi, jota\r\nsiivottiin. Ja vihdoin, kun oli kulunut tunti tai enemm\xc3\xa4nkin myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n\r\nsulkemisen j\xc3\xa4lkeen, kuulin ovia lukittavan. Sitten tuli \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6myys,\r\nja min\xc3\xa4 kuljeskelin yksin\xc3\xa4ni avarassa ja mutkikkaassa myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, sen\r\nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4viss\xc3\xa4 ja n\xc3\xa4ytehuoneissa. Siell\xc3\xa4 oli ihan hiljaista. Muistan hyvin,\r\nkuinka kerran menin l\xc3\xa4helle er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Tottenham Court Roadin puolista\r\nsis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja kuuntelin ohikulkijoiden keng\xc3\xa4nkorkojen kopinaa.\r\n\r\n"Ensiksi menin siihen osastoon, jossa olin n\xc3\xa4hnyt sukkia ja\r\nhansikkaita. Oli pime\xc3\xa4, ja minun t\xc3\xa4ytyi oikein hiton lailla etsi\xc3\xa4\r\ntulitikkuja, jotka lopulta l\xc3\xb6ysin kassap\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n pienest\xc3\xa4 laatikosta.\r\nSitten minun oli haettava k\xc3\xa4siini kynttil\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4ytyi kiskoa alas verhoja\r\nja tutkia monia laatikoita ja lippaita, mutta lopulta minun onnistui\r\ntavata, mit\xc3\xa4 etsin: laatikon kyljess\xc3\xa4 oleva nimilappu ilmaisi siell\xc3\xa4\r\nolevan lampaanvillaisia alushousuja ja liivej\xc3\xa4. Sitten sukat, paksu\r\nkaulahuivi, ja sitten menin pukuosastoon, otin housut, takin ja\r\npalttoon ynn\xc3\xa4 leve\xc3\xa4lierisen hatun -- sellaisen, joka sopii papille ja\r\njonka reunat oli k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnetty alas. Aloin taas tuntea olevani ihminen, ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4hinn\xc3\xa4 ajattelin nyt ruokaa.\r\n\r\n"Yl\xc3\xa4kerrassa oli virvokehuone. Sielt\xc3\xa4 sain kylm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lihaa. Teekeitti\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4\r\noli viel\xc3\xa4 kahvia, min\xc3\xa4 sytytin kaasun, l\xc3\xa4mmitin kahvin ja jaksoin\r\ntaas koko hyvin. My\xc3\xb6hemmin, kun hiiviskelin hakemassa peitteit\xc3\xa4 --\r\nminun oli lopulta tyydytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 muutamiin untuvapeittoihin -- saavuin\r\nsekatavaraosastoon, jossa oli kosolti suklaata ja s\xc3\xa4ilykehedelmi\xc3\xa4,\r\nviel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n kuin oli minulle terveellist\xc3\xa4, ja joku m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4 valkeaa\r\nburgundiviini\xc3\xa4. L\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 oli leikkitavaraosasto, ja mieleeni juolahti\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4 aate. L\xc3\xb6ysin muutamia keinotekoisia neni\xc3\xa4 -- tied\xc3\xa4tteh\xc3\xa4n,\r\nvahaneni\xc3\xa4, ja ajattelin, ett\xc3\xa4 pit\xc3\xa4isi saada mustat silm\xc3\xa4lasit. Mutta\r\nOmniumissa ei ollut silm\xc3\xa4lasiosastoa. Nen\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4ni olikin ollut pulaa.\r\nOlin ajatellut maalata sen. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 keksint\xc3\xb6 johti mieleeni\r\ntekotukan ja naamarin ynn\xc3\xa4 muuta sentapaista. Lopulta l\xc3\xa4hdin nukkumaan\r\nuntuvapeittojen v\xc3\xa4liin hyvin l\xc3\xa4mpim\xc3\xa4sti ja mukavasti.\r\n\r\n"Viimeiset ajatukseni ennen uneen vaipumistani olivat mieluisimmat,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 olin tuntenut muutokseni j\xc3\xa4lkeen. Olin ruumiillisen huolettomuuden\r\ntilassa, ja se tuntui mieless\xc3\xa4nikin. Kuvittelin voivani aamulla\r\npujahtaa pois huomaamatta, vaikka olin puettu, verhoten kasvoni\r\nvalkealla vaatteella, ja ostaa silm\xc3\xa4lasit varastamillani rahoilla\r\nja sitten t\xc3\xa4ydent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 valepukuni. N\xc3\xa4in sekavia unia kaikista niist\xc3\xa4\r\nkummallisista asioista, jotka olivat tapahtuneet muutamien viime\r\np\xc3\xa4ivien kuluessa. Niinp\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in ruman pikku juutalaisis\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ni kirkumassa\r\nhuoneissaan, h\xc3\xa4nen molemmat poikansa ihmettelem\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja vanhan eukon\r\nryppyiset kasvot h\xc3\xa4nen kysyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kissaansa. Uudelleen sain kokea sen\r\nomituisen ilmi\xc3\xb6n, ett\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in vaatekappaleen katoavan, ja sitten jouduin\r\ntuuliselle m\xc3\xa4enrinteelle nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 tuhistelevan vanhan miehen luo, joka\r\nmutisi: \'Maasta olet tullut, ja maaksi pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sinun j\xc3\xa4lleen tulla\' is\xc3\xa4ni\r\navoimen haudan partaalla.\r\n\r\n"\'Sin\xc3\xa4kin\', virkkoi jokin \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni, ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 minua ty\xc3\xb6nnettiin hautaan\r\np\xc3\xa4in. Ponnistelin vastaan, huusin ja vetosin hautajaisvieraisiin, mutta\r\nhe jatkoivat tunteettomina juhlamenoja. Samoin vanha pappikin, joka\r\nei yht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pys\xc3\xa4htynyt, vaan yh\xc3\xa4 mutisi ja tuhisi koko hautajaismenojen\r\najan. K\xc3\xa4sitin olevani n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n ja kuulumaton ja valtavien voimien\r\npit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n minua hallussaan. Ponnistelin turhaan, minun oli pakko suistua\r\nreunalta alas, arkku kumahti ontosti, kun putosin sille, ja hiekkaa\r\nlensi j\xc3\xa4lkeeni lapiollisittain. Ei kukaan v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4nyt minusta, ei kukaan\r\nhuomannut minua. Tein suonenvedontapaisia ponnistuksia ja her\xc3\xa4sin.\r\n\r\n"Kalpea Lontoon aamusarastus oli tullut, talo oli t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 kylm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nharmaata valoa, jota tunki ikkunankaihtimien nurkista. Nousin istumaan\r\nenk\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aikaan voinut k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 avara huoneisto\r\nmyym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6ytineen ja monine kangaspakkoineen, peite- ja pieluskasoineen ja\r\nrautapilareineen saattoi olla. Sitten kuulin keskustelua, ja samassa\r\nmuistini palasi.\r\n\r\n"Silloin n\xc3\xa4in kaukana er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n osaston kirkkaassa valaistuksessa, siell\xc3\xa4\r\nkun jo oli nostettu ikkunankaihtimet, kaksi miest\xc3\xa4, jotka tulivat\r\nminuun p\xc3\xa4in. Kapusin seisomaan ja katselin ymp\xc3\xa4rilleni l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni\r\npakotien. Juuri silloin sai liikkumiseni synnytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 kahina heid\xc3\xa4t\r\nhuomaamaan minut. Luullakseni he n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t vain jonkun olennon liikkuvan\r\nnopeasti ja \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neti poisp\xc3\xa4in. \'Kuka se on?\' huusi toinen, ja toinen\r\nkarjaisi: \'Seis siell\xc3\xa4!\' Sy\xc3\xb6ksyin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n nurkan ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja jouduin\r\nt\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4 vauhtia -- muistakaa, ett\xc3\xa4 olin kasvoton olento! -- er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nviisitoistavuotista honteloa poikaa vastaan. H\xc3\xa4n kiljaisi, ja min\xc3\xa4\r\nheitin h\xc3\xa4net syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sy\xc3\xb6ksyin h\xc3\xa4nen ohitseen, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyin toisen kulman\r\nymp\xc3\xa4ri ja onnellisen ajatuksen johtamana heitt\xc3\xa4ydyin vatsalleni er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nmyym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taakse. Seuraavalla hetkell\xc3\xa4 juoksi jalkoja ohitseni,\r\nja min\xc3\xa4 kuulin huutoja \'Kaikki miehet oville!\' Niinik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n erotin\r\nkysytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n, mit\xc3\xa4 oli tekeill\xc3\xa4, sek\xc3\xa4 annettavan miehest\xc3\xa4 mieheen\r\nneuvoja, kuinka minut oli otettava kiinni.\r\n\r\n"Maaten lattialla tunsin olevani ihan sekaisin pel\xc3\xa4styksest\xc3\xa4. Mutta\r\nniin omituiselta kuin se tuntuneekin, ei mieleeni sill\xc3\xa4 hetkell\xc3\xa4\r\njuolahtanut riisua vaatteitani, niinkuin minun olisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt tehd\xc3\xa4.\r\nLuultavasti ohjasi minua p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6kseni p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 karkuun puettuna. Silloin\r\nhuusi joku myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6ytien v\xc3\xa4lisest\xc3\xa4 aukosta: \'T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on!\'\r\n\r\n"Hyp\xc3\xa4hdin seisomaan, sieppasin tuolin myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 ja lenn\xc3\xa4tin sen\r\nsit\xc3\xa4 tomppelia kohti, joka oli huutanut, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyin, t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4sin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen\r\ntoiseen kulman takana, heitin h\xc3\xa4net kierim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pitkin lattiaa ja\r\nrynt\xc3\xa4sin yl\xc3\xb6s portaita. H\xc3\xa4n nousi jaloilleen, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sti huudon ja juoksi\r\nportaita yl\xc3\xb6s ihan kintereill\xc3\xa4ni. Portaiden yl\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n oli pinottu\r\njoukko sellaisia vaaleita ruukkuja -- miksi niit\xc3\xa4 nyt sanotaan?"\r\n\r\n"Taideteollisuusmaljakoiksi", virkkoi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin. No, min\xc3\xa4 seisoin ylimm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 portaalla, sieppasin yhden\r\nmaljakon pinosta ja murskasin sen h\xc3\xa4nen tyhm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4, kun h\xc3\xa4n\r\ntuli kimppuuni. Koko maljakkopino suistui alas, ja min\xc3\xa4 kuulin\r\nhuutoja ja askeleita joka taholta. Tein mielett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4yksen\r\nvirvokeosastoon, ja siell\xc3\xa4 rupesi minua ajamaan takaa er\xc3\xa4s mies, joka\r\noli puettu valkoisiin kuin mieskokki. Tein viimeisen ep\xc3\xa4toivoisen\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6ksen ja huomasin olevani lamppu- ja rautatavaraosastossa. Menin\r\nsiell\xc3\xa4 myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taakse ja odotin kokkia. Kun h\xc3\xa4n sy\xc3\xb6ksyi sis\xc3\xa4lle\r\nensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 takaa-ajajien joukossa, l\xc3\xb6in h\xc3\xa4net ihan koukkuun lampulla.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n m\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4hti lattiaan, ja min\xc3\xa4 aloin myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taakse kyyristyneen\xc3\xa4\r\nheitell\xc3\xa4 pois vaatteitani niin nopeasti kuin saatoin. Takki, nuttu,\r\nhousut, keng\xc3\xa4t heltisiv\xc3\xa4t pian, mutta lampaanvillaiset liivit\r\ntakertuivat mieheen kuin nahka. Kuulin useampien miesten l\xc3\xa4hestyv\xc3\xa4n,\r\nkokki makasi hiljaa myym\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n toisella puolella sanattomaksi\r\ntaintuneena tai pel\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4, ja minun oli teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 uusi loikkaus,\r\nniinkuin kaniinin, joka ajetaan ulos puupinosta.\r\n\r\n"\'T\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kautta, poliisi\', kuulin jonkun huutavan. Huomasin j\xc3\xa4lleen\r\nolevani entisess\xc3\xa4 vuodevaateosastossa, ja per\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 oli vaatekaappien\r\nsokkelo. Sy\xc3\xb6ksyin niiden v\xc3\xa4liin, heitt\xc3\xa4ydyin pitk\xc3\xa4lleni, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sin\r\nliiveist\xc3\xa4ni eroon \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti rimpuiltuani ja seisoin taas vapaana\r\nmiehen\xc3\xa4, l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en ja kauhistuneena, kun nurkan takaa ilmestyi poliisi\r\nkolmen myyj\xc3\xa4n kanssa. He hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t ottamaan liivit ja tohvelit ja\r\ntarttuivat housujen kaulukseen. \'H\xc3\xa4n heittelee pois saalistaan\', sanoi\r\nmuuan nuorista miehist\xc3\xa4. \'H\xc3\xa4nen _t\xc3\xa4ytyy_ olla jossakin t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4.\'\r\n\r\n"Mutta sittenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n he eiv\xc3\xa4t l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4neet minua.\r\n\r\n"Seisoin ja katselin jonkun aikaa, kuinka he ajoivat minua takaa, ja\r\nnoiduin huonoa onneani, kun olin menett\xc3\xa4nyt vaatteet. Menin sitten\r\nvirvokehuoneeseen, join v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n sielt\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni maitoa ja istuuduin\r\ntulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen miettim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n asemaani.\r\n\r\n"Hetkisen kuluttua tuli sis\xc3\xa4lle kaksi apulaista, jotka alkoivat hyvin\r\nkiihtynein\xc3\xa4 puhella t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 asiasta ja olivat kuin j\xc3\xa4rjilt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Kuulin\r\nliioitellun kuvauksen tuhot\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4ni ja arveluita olinpaikastani. Sitten\r\npohdin taas suunnitelmia. Oli ehdottomasti mahdotonta saada t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n varastetuksi, etenkin kun nyt oli pantu h\xc3\xa4lytys toimeen. Menin\r\nalas varastohuoneeseen n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4kseni oliko siell\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mahdollisuutta\r\nsiepata ja varustaa osoitteella jokin paketti, mutta min\xc3\xa4 en ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4nyt\r\nsik\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4rjestelm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Noin yhdentoista aikaan, kun lumi oli heti\r\nmaahan tultuaan sulanut ja p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 oli kauniimpi ja v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4mpim\xc3\xa4mpi kuin\r\nedellinen, tulin siihen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6kseen, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 tavaratalosta ei voinut\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vied\xc3\xa4, ja l\xc3\xa4hdin taas ulos katkeroituneena huonosta onnestani,\r\nmieless\xc3\xa4ni vain per\xc3\xa4ti h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 suunnitelmia vastaisen varalta."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKOLMASKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nDrury-kujalla\r\n\r\n\r\n"Mutta nyt jo alattekin k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 asemani t\xc3\xa4ydellisen ep\xc3\xa4edullisuuden",\r\njatkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "Minulla ei ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n suojaa, ei verhoa.\r\nVaatteiden hankkiminen merkitsi kaikista eduista luopumista, ja silloin\r\nminusta olisi tullut outo ja kammottava olento. Min\xc3\xa4 paastosin, sill\xc3\xa4\r\njos olisin sy\xc3\xb6nyt, jos olisin t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt itseni hitaasti sulavalla\r\nravintoaineella, olisin taas tullut eriskummaisella tavalla n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ksi."\r\n\r\n"Sit\xc3\xa4 en ollenkaan ollut ajatellut", huomautti Kemp.\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ja lumi oli varoittanut minua muista vaaroista. En voinut\r\nkulkea ulkona lumessa -- se tarttui minuun ja ilmaisisi minut. Sadekin\r\nvoisi luoda minulle vetiset rajat, tehd\xc3\xa4 minusta kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4pintaisen\r\nmiehen -- kuplan. Ja sumu -- min\xc3\xa4 olisin kuin heikko kupla sumussa,\r\nkuin kuori, rasvainen ja kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 ihmisen kajastus. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 ker\xc3\xa4sin lokaa nilkkoihini, irtonaista likaa ja p\xc3\xb6ly\xc3\xa4 nahkaani\r\nliikkuessani ulkosalla Lontoon ilmassa. En tiennyt, kuinka kauan\r\nkest\xc3\xa4isi, ennenkuin tulisin n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ksi siit\xc3\xa4kin syyst\xc3\xa4. Mutta selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\nhuomasin, ettei se voisi kest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kovin kauan."\r\n\r\n"Ei ainakaan Lontoossa."\r\n\r\n"Menin Portland-kadulle p\xc3\xa4in k\xc3\xb6yh\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xb6kortteleihin ja huomasin olevani\r\nsen kadun p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, jonka varrella olin asunut. En kulkenut sit\xc3\xa4 tiet\xc3\xa4,\r\nkoska siell\xc3\xa4 oli v\xc3\xa4entungosta kadun puoliv\xc3\xa4liin asti sytytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ni talon\r\nviel\xc3\xa4kin savuavien raunioitten kohdalla. T\xc3\xa4rkein kysymys, joka minun\r\noli saatava heti ratkaistuksi, oli vaatteiden hankkiminen. Sitten\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 tuollaisessa rihkamakaupassa -- jollaisissa on sanomalehti\xc3\xa4,\r\nmakeisia, leikkikaluja, paperitavaroita, my\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4styneit\xc3\xa4 jouluhullutuksia\r\nja muuta -- n\xc3\xa4in varaston naamareita ja neni\xc3\xa4 ja muistin sen\r\najatuksen, jonka _Omniumin_ leikkikalut olivat mieless\xc3\xa4ni her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4neet.\r\nK\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyin, en en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 umpim\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja kuljin kiertoteitse v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni\r\nvilkasliikkeisi\xc3\xa4 katuja Strandin pohjoispuolisille takakaduille, sill\xc3\xa4\r\nmuistin er\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4 teatterien puvustonhoitajilla olevan myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4,\r\nvaikkakaan en oikein selv\xc3\xa4sti miss\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"P\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 oli kylm\xc3\xa4, ja pureva tuuli puhalsi pitkin pohjoiseen johtavia\r\nkatuja. Min\xc3\xa4 marssin nopeasti v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni yll\xc3\xa4tyst\xc3\xa4. Jokainen\r\nmeno kadun poikki oli vaarallinen, jokainen ohikulkija sellainen\r\nolento, jota oli tarkoin varottava. Er\xc3\xa4s mies, jota koetin sivuuttaa\r\nBedford-kadun p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 minua kohti, t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4si kiinni ja\r\nty\xc3\xb6nsi minut ajotielle, niin ett\xc3\xa4 olin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 joutua ohikulkevien\r\nkaksipy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4isten k\xc3\xa4rryjen alle. Niiden ajaja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tteli varmaankin,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli saanut jonkunlaisen kohtauksen. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 yhteent\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4ys teki\r\nminut niin voimattomaksi, ett\xc3\xa4 menin Covent Gardenin torille ja\r\nistuuduin joksikin aikaa huohottaen ja vapisten er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen rauhalliseen\r\nnurkkaan orvokkikojun luo. Tunsin kylmettyneeni uudelleen, ja niin oli\r\nminun v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ajan kuluttua l\xc3\xa4hdett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 pois, jotta aivastukseni eiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nher\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4isi huomiota.\r\n\r\n"Vihdoin saavutin tavoittamani p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n. Se oli likanen k\xc3\xa4rp\xc3\xa4sten\r\ntahrima pikku myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 Drury-kujaa pienen solan varrella. Siell\xc3\xa4\r\noli ikkuna t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 kimmelt\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 pukuja, valejalokivi\xc3\xa4, tekotukkia,\r\ntohveleita, kaapuja ja teatterivalokuvia. Myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4 oli vanhanaikainen,\r\nmatala ja pime\xc3\xa4, ja sen yl\xc3\xa4puolella kohosi rakennus nelikerroksisena,\r\nsynkk\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja ik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4. Kurkistin ikkunan l\xc3\xa4pi ja, kun en n\xc3\xa4hnyt\r\nsiell\xc3\xa4 ket\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, menin sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Oven avaaminen pani r\xc3\xa4misev\xc3\xa4n kellon\r\nsoimaan. Min\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4tin sen auki ja pujahdin tyhj\xc3\xa4n vaatetelineen ohi\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xb6kuvastimen takaiseen nurkkaan. Kesti noin minuutin verran,\r\nennenkuin ket\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ilmestyi. Silloin kuulin raskaiden askelien harppaavan\r\nhuoneen poikki, ja myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tuli er\xc3\xa4s mies.\r\n\r\n"Suunnitelmani oli nyt t\xc3\xa4ysin selv\xc3\xa4. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin menn\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4lle taloon,\r\nk\xc3\xa4tkeyty\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xa4kertaan, odottaa sopivaa tilaisuutta ja, kun kaikki\r\nolisi rauhallista, penkoa esille tekotukan, naamarin, silm\xc3\xa4lasit ja\r\npuvun ja l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 taas ulkoilmaan, ehk\xc3\xa4 eriskummaisena, mutta kuitenkin\r\nsiedett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 olentona. Ja sivumennen tietysti voisin ry\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 talosta\r\nniin paljon rahaa kuin tapaisin.\r\n\r\n"Mies, joka oli tullut myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, oli lyhyt ja v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kyttyr\xc3\xa4selk\xc3\xa4inen.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli tuuheat kulmakarvat, pitk\xc3\xa4t k\xc3\xa4sivarret ja hyvin lyhyet\r\nk\xc3\xa4yr\xc3\xa4t jalat. Ilmeisesti olin keskeytt\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4nen ateriansa. H\xc3\xa4n katseli\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 odottavan n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4. Siit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen ilmeens\xc3\xa4\r\nmuuttui h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneeksi, sitten vihaiseksi, kun h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nolevan tyhj\xc3\xa4n. \'Lempo viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n ne pojat!\' virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n meni ovelle\r\nja katseli katua kahteen suuntaan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n taas tuli sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\npotkaisi oven sisukkaasti kiinni jalallaan ja meni mutisten takaisin\r\nsis\xc3\xa4ovelle.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 astuin l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi seuratakseni h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, ja siit\xc3\xa4 syntynyt kahina\r\nsai h\xc3\xa4net \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 pys\xc3\xa4htym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Min\xc3\xa4kin pys\xc3\xa4hdyin pel\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkorvansa tarkkuudesta. H\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4im\xc3\xa4ytti sis\xc3\xa4oven kiinni ihan kasvojeni\r\nedess\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 seisoin ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iden. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 kuulin h\xc3\xa4nen nopeiden askeltensa\r\npalaavan, ja ovi aukeni taas. H\xc3\xa4n seisoi katsellen ymp\xc3\xa4rilleen\r\nmyym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt viel\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n rauhoittuneen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n itsekseen\r\nmutisten tutki myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n taustaa ja kurkisti muutamien huonekalujen\r\ntaakse. Senj\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4i seisomaan ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iden. H\xc3\xa4n oli j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt\r\nsis\xc3\xa4oven auki, ja min\xc3\xa4 pujahdin myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n takaiseen huoneeseen.\r\n\r\n"Se oli omituinen pikku huone, k\xc3\xb6yh\xc3\xa4sti kalustettu. Er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 nurkassa\r\noli joukko suuria naamareita. P\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 oli kesken j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nyt aamiainen, ja\r\nminun oli hiton kiusallista hengitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen kahvinsa hajua ja seisoa\r\nkatselemassa, kuinka h\xc3\xa4n sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tultuaan ryhtyi jatkamaan ateriaansa.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4tapansakin olivat \xc3\xa4rsytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t. Kolme ovea vei t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pikku\r\nhuoneesta, niist\xc3\xa4 yksi vei yl\xc3\xa4kertaan ja yksi alakertaan, mutta ne\r\nolivat kaikki kiinni. Min\xc3\xa4 en voinut p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ulos huoneesta niin kauan\r\nkuin h\xc3\xa4n oli siell\xc3\xa4. Tuskin saatoin liikahtaa, sill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli kovin\r\nvalpas, ja sel\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4ni tuntui pahoja vilunv\xc3\xa4reit\xc3\xa4. Pari kertaa sain\r\najoissa tukahdutetuksi aivastuksen.\r\n\r\n"Esiintymiseni t\xc3\xa4llaisessa n\xc3\xa4ytelm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 oli kyll\xc3\xa4 uutta ja omituista,\r\nmutta sittenkin olin perinpohjin v\xc3\xa4synyt ja suuttunut jo aikoja\r\nennenkuin h\xc3\xa4n oli lopettanut aterioimisensa. Mutta lopulta h\xc3\xa4n herkesi\r\nsy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, ja pannen kehnot saviastiansa mustalle tinatarjottimelle,\r\njolla oli ollut h\xc3\xa4nen teekannunsa, ja kooten kaikki muruset\r\nsinapinv\xc3\xa4riselt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4liinalta h\xc3\xa4n otti kaikki kapineet mukaansa.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen taakkansa esti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 sulkemasta ovea takanaan, kuten h\xc3\xa4n muuten\r\nvarmasti olisi tehnyt. En ole milloinkaan n\xc3\xa4hnyt ovien sulkemiseen niin\r\nmieltynytt\xc3\xa4 miest\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4n oli. Min\xc3\xa4 seuraan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 pohjakerroksen\r\nhyvin likaiseen keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n ja pesukomeroon. Mielihyv\xc3\xa4kseni huomasin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen alkavan pest\xc3\xa4 astioita, ja kun en hy\xc3\xb6tynyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n siell\xc3\xa4\r\nolemisesta ja kivilattia oli kylm\xc3\xa4 jaloilleni, palasin yl\xc3\xa4kertaan ja\r\nistuuduin h\xc3\xa4nen tuoliinsa tulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen, joka oli jo melkein loppuun\r\npalanut. Tuskin ajatellen mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n lis\xc3\xa4sin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n hiili\xc3\xa4. Rapina kutsui\r\nmiehen heti yl\xc3\xb6s. H\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4i seisomaan ja tuijottamaan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nkurkisteli ymp\xc3\xa4ri huonetta ja oli v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 koskettaa minuun. Tuonkaan\r\nnuuskimisen j\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n tuskin n\xc3\xa4ytti tyytyv\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n pys\xc3\xa4htyi oviaukkoon\r\nja loi viel\xc3\xa4 yleissilm\xc3\xa4yksen huoneeseen, ennenkuin l\xc3\xa4hti alas.\r\n\r\n"Sain kauan odottaa pikku huoneessa, ennenkuin h\xc3\xa4n tuli takaisin avaten\r\nyl\xc3\xa4kerran oven. Min\xc3\xa4 hiivin h\xc3\xa4nen kintereill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Portailla h\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 pys\xc3\xa4htyi, niin ett\xc3\xa4 olin t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4neen kiinni.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n seisoi katsellen taaksep\xc3\xa4in suoraan kasvoihini ja kuunteli. \'Olisin\r\nvoinut vaikka vannoa\', mutisi h\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4nen pitk\xc3\xa4 karvainen k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 siveli\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen alahuultaan, ja h\xc3\xa4n silm\xc3\xa4ili yl\xc3\xb6s ja alas portaita. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmurahti ja l\xc3\xa4hti taas yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 oli jo ovenrivassa, ja siihen h\xc3\xa4n taas pys\xc3\xa4htyi,\r\nkasvoillaan sama h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynyt kiukku. H\xc3\xa4n alkoi kuulla l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nliikkeitteni heikkoa kahinaa. Sill\xc3\xa4 miehell\xc3\xa4 oli varmaankin pirullisen\r\nter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kuulo. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n vimmastui: \'Jos joku on t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 talossa...\'\r\nhuusi h\xc3\xa4n noituen ja j\xc3\xa4tti uhkauksensa lopettamatta. H\xc3\xa4n pisti k\xc3\xa4den\r\ntaskuunsa, mutta ei l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt mit\xc3\xa4 etsi, ja sy\xc3\xb6ksyen ohitseni h\xc3\xa4n\r\nkompuroi kolisten ja taisteluhaluisena alakertaan. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 en\r\nseurannut h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, vaan istuin portaiden yl\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen paluuseensa asti.\r\n\r\n"Pian h\xc3\xa4n taas tuli takaisin yh\xc3\xa4 mutisten. H\xc3\xa4n avasi huoneen oven ja,\r\nennenkuin enn\xc3\xa4tin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4lle, paukautti sen kiinni vasten naamaani.\r\n\r\n"P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin tutkia taloa ja vietin jonkun aikaa siin\xc3\xa4 hommassa niin\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti kuin suinkin. Talo oli hyvin vanha, rappeutunut ja kostea,\r\nja ullakkokerroksen sein\xc3\xa4paperit riippuivat irrallaan rottien repimin\xc3\xa4.\r\nMelkein kaikki ovenrivat olivat j\xc3\xa4ykki\xc3\xa4, enk\xc3\xa4 uskaltanut v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nniit\xc3\xa4. Muutamat tarkastamistani huoneista olivat kalustamattomia, ja\r\ntoisissa oli huiskin haiskin teatteriromua, joka ulkoasusta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en\r\noli ostettu k\xc3\xa4ytettyn\xc3\xa4. Er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 huoneesta, joka oli ukon oman huoneen\r\nvieress\xc3\xa4, l\xc3\xb6ysin joukon vanhoja vaatteita. Aloin kaivella niit\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nunohdin taas innoissani h\xc3\xa4nen korviensa tavattoman tarkkuuden. Kuulin\r\nhiljaisia askeleita ja katsahtaessani juuri ajoissa n\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4nen ovesta\r\nt\xc3\xa4hystelev\xc3\xa4n pengottua vaatekasaa ja pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n vanhanaikaista revolveria\r\nk\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Seisoin hievahtamatta paikallani h\xc3\xa4nen tuijottaessaan\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen suu auki ja ep\xc3\xa4luuloisena. \'Se on varmastikin ollut se\r\nletukka\', sanoi h\xc3\xa4n hitaasti. \'Hitto h\xc3\xa4net viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n!\'\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n sulki rauhallisesti oven, ja heti kuulin avaimen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyv\xc3\xa4n\r\nlukossa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4nen askeleensa loittonivat. K\xc3\xa4sitin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 olevani\r\nteljettyn\xc3\xa4. Aluksi en tiennyt, mit\xc3\xa4 oli teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4. Astuin ovelta ikkunan\r\nluo ja taas takaisin ja seisoin h\xc3\xa4mmentyneen\xc3\xa4. Vihanpuuska valtasi\r\nminut. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin tutkia vaatteita, ennenkuin tekisin mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nmuuta, ja ensimm\xc3\xa4inen yritykseni pudotti vaatepinon yl\xc3\xa4hyllylt\xc3\xa4. Se\r\nsai h\xc3\xa4net palaamaan entist\xc3\xa4 synkemp\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kerralla h\xc3\xa4n todellakin\r\nkosketti minuun, hyp\xc3\xa4hti takaisin h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4 ja seisahtui neuvotonna\r\nkeskelle huonetta.\r\n\r\n"Pian h\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n rauhoittui. \'Rottia\', virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n matalalla \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4,\r\nsormet huulella. Ilmeisesti h\xc3\xa4n oli v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n peloissaan. Min\xc3\xa4 pujahdin\r\nhiljaa ulos huoneesta, mutta er\xc3\xa4s lattiapalkki narahti. Silloin se\r\nlemmon peto l\xc3\xa4hti marssimaan l\xc3\xa4pi koko talon revolveri k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nlukitsi oven toisensa per\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ja pisti avaimet taskuunsa. Kun k\xc3\xa4sitin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen puuhansa, jouduin oikein raivoihini -- tuskin saatoin kylliksi\r\nhillit\xc3\xa4 itse\xc3\xa4ni odottaakseni sopivaa tilaisuutta. Nyt tiesin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nolevan yksin talossa. En siis nostanut sen suurempaa melua, vaan\r\nkolhaisin h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\n"Kolhaisitte h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n?" huudahti Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Niin -- l\xc3\xb6in h\xc3\xa4net tainnoksiin, h\xc3\xa4nen astuessaan portaita alas. Iskin\r\nh\xc3\xa4neen takaap\xc3\xa4in t\xc3\xb6yrytuolilla, joka oli portaiden k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnekohdassa. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nlensi alakertaan kuin pussillinen vanhoja saappaita."\r\n\r\n"Mutta -- kuulkaahan! Yleiset ihmistavat..."\r\n\r\n"Ovat perin sopivia tavallisille ihmisille. Mutta tarkoitus olikin,\r\nKemp, ett\xc3\xa4 minun oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 ulos talosta valepuvussa h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nn\xc3\xa4kem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. En voinut keksi\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta keinoa. Ja sitten laitoin\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelle suukapulan Ludvig XIV:n liiveist\xc3\xa4 ja sidoin h\xc3\xa4net lakanaan!"\r\n\r\n"Sidoitte h\xc3\xa4net lakanaan!"\r\n\r\n"Tein h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 jonkinlaisen s\xc3\xa4kin. Se oli jokseenkin hyv\xc3\xa4 keino pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntuota tomppelia peloissaan ja alallaan, ja hiton vaikea siit\xc3\xa4 olikin\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ulos -- saada p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mahtumaan nuoran kierteest\xc3\xa4. Hyv\xc3\xa4 Kemp, teid\xc3\xa4n\r\nei tarvitse tuijottaa minuun kuin olisin tehnyt murhan. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nrevolverinsa. Jos h\xc3\xa4n kerran olisi n\xc3\xa4hnyt minut, olisi h\xc3\xa4n voinut\r\nkertoa tuntomerkkini..."\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuitenkin", sanoi Kemp. "Englannissa -- nykyaikana! Ja mies oli\r\nomassa talossaan, ja te olitte -- suorastaan ry\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ry\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4! Hitto soikoon! Kohta te sanotte minua varkaaksi. Ette\r\nsuinkaan te, Kemp, ole niin hupsu, ett\xc3\xa4 ajattelisitte noin ahtaasti.\r\nEttek\xc3\xb6 voi ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 asemaani?"\r\n\r\n"Ja h\xc3\xa4nen my\xc3\xb6skin!" sanoi Kemp.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies nousi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 seisomaan. "Mit\xc3\xa4 te oikeastaan tarkoitatte?"\r\n\r\nKempin kasvoille tuli hieman kova ilme. H\xc3\xa4n aikoi puhua, mutta\r\nhillitsi itsens\xc3\xa4. "Ehk\xc3\xa4 sittenkin", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n muuttaen \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\nesiintymistapaansa, "teid\xc3\xa4n piti niin menetell\xc3\xa4. Te olitte pinteess\xc3\xa4.\r\nMutta kuitenkin..."\r\n\r\n"Tietysti olin pinteess\xc3\xa4 -- helvetillisess\xc3\xa4 pinteess\xc3\xa4! Ja h\xc3\xa4n sai minut\r\nviel\xc3\xa4 vimmastumaan vainoamalla minua pitkin koko taloa, ilvehtim\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\nrevolverillaan, avaamalla ja lukitsemalla ovia. H\xc3\xa4n oli kerrassaan\r\nraivostuttava. Ette suinkaan te moiti minua, vai mit\xc3\xa4? Moititteko te\r\nminua?"\r\n\r\n"En milloinkaan moiti ket\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", vastasi Kemp. "Se on ihan sopimatonta.\r\nMit\xc3\xa4 sitten teitte?"\r\n\r\n"Minun oli n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4. Alakerrasta l\xc3\xb6ysin leiv\xc3\xa4n ja vanhentunutta juustoa\r\n-- siin\xc3\xa4 oli enemm\xc3\xa4n kuin tarpeeksi ensi n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ryypp\xc3\xa4sin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nvedell\xc3\xa4 laimennettua viini\xc3\xa4 ja menin sitten h\xc3\xa4th\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tekaisemani\r\nmytyn ohi -- se pysyi viel\xc3\xa4 hiljaa -- siihen huoneeseen, jossa oli\r\nvanhoja vaatteita. Ikkuna oli kadun puolella liasta ruskeiden verhojen\r\npeitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. Poikkesin kurkistamaan ulos niiden v\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xa4. Ulkona oli\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4isev\xc3\xa4n kirkas -- vastakohtana t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n ik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n talon ruskeille\r\nvarjoille. Kadulla oli vilkas liike -- ohitseni kulkivat hedelm\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rryt,\r\nkaksipy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4iset ajoneuvot ja nelipy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4iset, joilla oli pino laatikoita,\r\nja kalakauppiaan rattaat. Palasin takanani olevaan h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nv\xc3\xa4rit\xc3\xa4plien leijaillessa silmiss\xc3\xa4ni. Kiihtymykseni alkoi taas v\xc3\xa4isty\xc3\xa4\r\nasemani selv\xc3\xa4n arvioimisen tielt\xc3\xa4. Huoneessa haisi hieman bensiinilt\xc3\xa4,\r\njota luullakseni oli k\xc3\xa4ytetty vaatteiden puhdistamiseen.\r\n\r\n"Aloin seikkaper\xc3\xa4isesti tutkia t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 paikkaa. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttelin kyttyr\xc3\xa4sel\xc3\xa4n\r\nolleen jonkun aikaa yksin talossa. H\xc3\xa4n oli omituinen olento... Ker\xc3\xa4sin\r\nvaatevarastosta kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 mahdollisesti saatoin k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hyv\xc3\xa4kseni,\r\nja sitten valitsin huolellisesti harkiten. L\xc3\xb6ysin k\xc3\xa4silaukun, joka\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti tarpeelliselta, v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n puuteria, punamaalia ja kiinnelaastaria.\r\n\r\n"Olin ajatellut maalata ja puuteroida kasvoni ja kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 minusta\r\npuettuna voi n\xc3\xa4ky\xc3\xa4, tehd\xc3\xa4kseni itseni n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ksi, mutta siin\xc3\xa4 oli se\r\nvarjopuoli, ett\xc3\xa4 olisin tarvinnut t\xc3\xa4rp\xc3\xa4tti\xc3\xa4 ja muita apukeinoja ja\r\nmelko pitk\xc3\xa4n ajan, ennenkuin olisin voinut sielt\xc3\xa4 poistua. Lopulta\r\nvalitsin paremmanpuoleisen nen\xc3\xa4n, joka oli v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kummallinen, mutta\r\nei sen kummempi kuin useiden ihmisten, tummat silm\xc3\xa4lasit, harmaan\r\nposkiparran ja teko tukan. En voinut l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n alusvaatteita, mutta\r\nniit\xc3\xa4 voisin ostaa my\xc3\xb6hemmin. Toistaiseksi panin ylleni puuvillaisen\r\nkaavun ja sidoin kaulaani kashmirihuivin. Sukkia siell\xc3\xa4 ei ollut, mutta\r\nkyttyr\xc3\xa4sel\xc3\xa4n saappaat olivat jokseenkin tilavat ja sopivat jalkaani.\r\nEr\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4laatikossa oli kolme puntaa kultaa ja noin\r\nkolmekymment\xc3\xa4 shillingi\xc3\xa4 hopeaa. Lukitussa kaapissa, jonne murtauduin\r\nsisemm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 huoneessa, oli kahdeksan puntaa kultarahoina. Voin siis\r\nj\xc3\xa4lleen astua maailmaan hyvin varustettuna.\r\n\r\n"Sitten minussa her\xc3\xa4si omituinen ep\xc3\xa4ilys. Oliko ulkomuotoni todellakin\r\ns\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4dyllisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen? Katselin itse\xc3\xa4ni pieness\xc3\xa4 s\xc3\xa4nkykamarin\r\nkuvastimessa ja tutkin olemustani joka taholta huomatakseni\r\njonkin unohtuneen raon, mutta kaikki n\xc3\xa4ytti olevan kunnossa. Olin\r\neriskummaisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen, teatterimainen -- n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xb6taituri -- mutta\r\nvarmaankaan en sent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n luonnontieteellinen mahdottomuus. Saaden\r\ntakaisin itseluottamukseni vein kuvastimen myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, vedin alas\r\nikkunankaihtimet ja tarkastelin itse\xc3\xa4ni joka puolelta nurkassa seisovan\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xb6peilin edess\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Kului muutamia minuutteja, ennenkuin sain luontoni rohkaistuksi.\r\nSitten avasin myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n oven ja l\xc3\xa4hdin ulos kadulle j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en pikku miehen\r\nselviytym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n lakanastaan, milloin h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 halutti. Viiden minuutin\r\nkuluttua oli minun ja vaatekauppiaan v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4 tusinan verta kadunkulmia.\r\nEi kukaan n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt tarkastavan minua kiinte\xc3\xa4mmin. Viimeinen vaikeuteni\r\ntuntui voitetulta."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vaikeni taas.\r\n\r\n"Ettek\xc3\xb6 en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ollut huolissanne kyttyr\xc3\xa4sel\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"En", vastasi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "En my\xc3\xb6sk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ole kuullut, miten h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nk\xc3\xa4vi. Luultavasti h\xc3\xa4n irroitti tai potkaisi itsens\xc3\xa4 ulos lakanasta.\r\nSolmut olivat jokseenkin lujat."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vaikeni ja meni ikkunan luo katselemaan ulos.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 tapahtui tultuanne Strandille?"\r\n\r\n"Oi! Pettymyksi\xc3\xa4 taas. Luulin vaivojeni olevan lopussa. Melkeinp\xc3\xa4\r\nluulin voivani rankaisematta tehd\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4 halusin, kaikkea -- paitsi\r\nilmaista salaisuuttani. Niin ajattelin. Mit\xc3\xa4 tahansa teinkin ja\r\nmillaisia seurauksia menettelyst\xc3\xa4ni tulisikin, siit\xc3\xa4 en v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4nyt.\r\nMinun oli vain heitett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 pois vaatteeni ja kadottava n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6miin. Ei\r\nkukaan voinut pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minua. Voisin ottaa rahaa, miss\xc3\xa4 vain n\xc3\xa4kisin\r\nsit\xc3\xa4. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tin suoda itselleni uhkean juhla-aterian ja sitten asettua\r\njohonkin hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hotelliin ja hankkia uusia varoja. Olin h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\nluottavainen. Ei ole kovinkaan mieluista muistella, ett\xc3\xa4 olin aasi.\r\nMenin er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen hotelliin ja olin jo tilaamaisillani puolisen, kun\r\nmieleeni juolahti, etten voinut sy\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4, jollen paljastaisi n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4\r\nkasvojani. Tilasin aterian ja ilmoitin tarjoilijalle, ett\xc3\xa4 tulisin\r\ntakaisin kymmenen minuutin kuluttua, ja l\xc3\xa4hdin katkerin mielin ulos. En\r\ntied\xc3\xa4, lienettek\xc3\xb6 te koskaan ollut siin\xc3\xa4 asemassa, ettette olisi voinut\r\ntyydytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ruokahaluanne."\r\n\r\n"En aivan niin pahassa", sanoi Kemp, "mutta voin sit\xc3\xa4 kuvitella".\r\n\r\n"Olisin voinut ly\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4 noita tyhmi\xc3\xa4 tomppeleita. Lopulta, ihan\r\nn\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnyksiss\xc3\xa4 himosta saada maukasta ruokaa menin toiseen hotelliin\r\nja tilasin yksityishuoneen. \'Kasvojani on kohdannut paha tapaturma\',\r\nsanoin. He katsahtivat minuun uteliaina, mutta tietenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n se ei ollut\r\nheid\xc3\xa4n asiansa -- ja niin sain lopulta aterian. Se ei ollut erikoisen\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4, mutta riitti kuitenkin, ja sy\xc3\xb6ty\xc3\xa4ni istuin poltellen sikaaria ja\r\nkoettaen laatia toimintasuunnitelmaa. Ja ulkona alkoi taas pyrytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nlunta.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n mietin asiaa, Kemp, sit\xc3\xa4 paremmin aloin k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, kuinka\r\navuton ja k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6 olento on N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies -- kylm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 roskailmalla\r\nja vilkasliikenteisess\xc3\xa4 sivistyneess\xc3\xa4 kaupungissa. Ennenkuin tein\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n mielett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n kokeen, olin haaveillut tuhansista seikkailuista.\r\nSin\xc3\xa4 iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 tuntui kaikki pettymykselt\xc3\xa4. K\xc3\xa4vin ajatuksissani l\xc3\xa4pi\r\nkaikki ne asiat, joita ihminen pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 toivottavina. Ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 teki\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys mahdolliseksi niiden saavuttamisen, mutta mahdotonta oli\r\nniist\xc3\xa4 nauttia senj\xc3\xa4lkeen, kun ne ensiksi oli hankkinut. Kunnianhimo\r\n-- mit\xc3\xa4 hy\xc3\xb6ty\xc3\xa4 on ylpeydest\xc3\xa4 ja komeudesta siell\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 ei voi\r\nesiinty\xc3\xa4? Mit\xc3\xa4 hy\xc3\xb6ty\xc3\xa4 on naisen rakkaudesta, kun h\xc3\xa4nen nimens\xc3\xa4 pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 olla Delila? Minulla ei ole mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n halua politiikkaan,\r\nmaineen konnankoukkuihin, hyv\xc3\xa4ntekev\xc3\xa4isyyteen, urheiluun. Mit\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nteht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4? Ja nyt minusta oli tullut vaatteisiin verhottu p\xc3\xb6p\xc3\xb6, kapaloitu\r\nja siteisiin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ritty ihmisen irvikuva."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vaikeni, ja h\xc3\xa4nen asentonsa ilmaisi h\xc3\xa4nen katselevan eri tahoille\r\nikkunasta.\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuinka te jouduitte Ipingiin?" kysyi Kemp, kovasti haluten saada\r\nvieraansa yh\xc3\xa4 puhumaan.\r\n\r\n"Menin sinne ty\xc3\xb6skentelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Minulla oli yksi toivo. Se oli\r\npuolittainen aate! Minulla on se viel\xc3\xa4kin. Nyt se on t\xc3\xa4ysin kyps\xc3\xa4 aate:\r\nkuinka p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sen ennalleen, palauttaakseni sen, mit\xc3\xa4 olen h\xc3\xa4vitt\xc3\xa4nyt.\r\nNimitt\xc3\xa4in sitten, kun haluan. Kun olen tehnyt kaikkea, mit\xc3\xa4 haluan\r\ntehd\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. Ja siit\xc3\xa4 nyt etusijassa tahdonkin puhella\r\nkanssanne..."\r\n\r\n"Menittek\xc3\xb6 suoraan Ipingiin?"\r\n\r\n"Menin. Minun oli vain hankittava k\xc3\xa4siini kolme muistiinpanokirjaani\r\nja shekkikirjani, matkatavarani ja alusvaatteeni ja tilattava joukko\r\nkemiallisia aineita toteuttaakseni t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n suunnitelmani -- n\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4n teille\r\nkaikki laskelmat -- niin pian kuin saan kirjani takaisin -- ja sitten\r\nl\xc3\xa4hdin. Voi taivas! Muistan nyt sen lumipyryn ja kirotun vaivan, joka\r\nminulla oli koettaessani est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lunta kostuttamasta pahvinen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni..."\r\n\r\n"Ja sitten te", virkkoi Kemp, "toissap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, jolloin teid\xc3\xa4t saatiin\r\nilmi, panitte toimeen -- sanomalehdist\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en..."\r\n\r\n"Niin. Aivan niin. Tapoinko min\xc3\xa4 sen konstaapelitomppelin?"\r\n\r\n"Ette", vastasi Kemp. "H\xc3\xa4n luultavasti toipui."\r\n\r\n"Se on siis h\xc3\xa4nen onnensa. Min\xc3\xa4 suorastaan menetin malttini. Voi niit\xc3\xa4\r\nhupsuja! Mikseiv\xc3\xa4t he j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4neet minua rauhaan? Ent\xc3\xa4 toinen h\xc3\xb6lm\xc3\xb6, se\r\nmaustekauppias?"\r\n\r\n"Ei h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ole hengenvaaraa", vastasi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Mutta kulkuristani en tied\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies\r\nvastenmielisesti naurahtaen.\r\n\r\n"Jumaliste, Kemp, teid\xc3\xa4ntapaisenne ihmiset eiv\xc3\xa4t tied\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 raivo\r\non!... Kun on tehnyt ty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4 vuosikausia, suunnitellut ja pohtinut\r\nja sitten joku k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6, lyhytn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen tomppeli turmelee kaikki\r\nsaavutuksenne!... Joka ainoa moukka on l\xc3\xa4hetetty minun tielleni...\r\nJos osakseni tulee viel\xc3\xa4 lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sellaista, niin min\xc3\xa4 ihan vimmastun\r\nja nujerran joka sorkan. Nyt ne ovat tehneet tilani tuhat kertaa\r\npulmallisemmaksi."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nNELJ\xc3\x84SKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nEp\xc3\xa4onnistunut suunnitelma\r\n\r\n\r\n"Mutta nyt", sanoi Kemp vilkaisten syrj\xc3\xa4silm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ikkunaan, "mit\xc3\xa4 meid\xc3\xa4n\r\nsitten nyt on teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n astui l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi vierastaan ehk\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4kseen sen mahdollisuuden, ett\xc3\xa4\r\ntoinen voisi vilaukselta huomata ne kolme miest\xc3\xa4, jotka l\xc3\xa4hestyiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nkukkulalle johtavaa tiet\xc3\xa4 my\xc3\xb6ten -- siet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n hitaasti, niinkuin\r\nKempist\xc3\xa4 tuntui.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 te suunnittelitte rynn\xc3\xa4tess\xc3\xa4nne Port Burdockiin? Oliko teill\xc3\xa4\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aikeita?"\r\n\r\n"Aioin l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 maasta pois. Mutta olen muuttanut mielt\xc3\xa4ni; kun sain\r\ntavata teid\xc3\xa4t. Luulen olevan viisasta, kun ilma nyt on l\xc3\xa4mmin ja\r\nsopii olla n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n, l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 etel\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Etenkin senvuoksi, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nsalaisuuteni oli tunnettu ja jokainen olisi varuillaan naamioittua\r\nja tiukasti umpeen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4riytynytt\xc3\xa4 miest\xc3\xa4 kohtaan. T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kulkee\r\nh\xc3\xb6yrylaivoja Ranskaan. Aioin pujahtaa johonkin laivaan ja uskaltaa\r\nmatkustaa kanaalin poikki. Sitten olisin l\xc3\xa4htenyt junalla Espanjaan\r\ntai muuten Algieriin. Se ei olisi vaikeaa. Siell\xc3\xa4 voisi ihminen aina\r\nolla n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n ja kuitenkin el\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Ja tehd\xc3\xa4 kaikenlaista. K\xc3\xa4ytin sit\xc3\xa4\r\nkulkuria rahakukkarona ja matkakapineitten kantajana, kunnes saisin\r\nselville, mill\xc3\xa4 tavalla ennakolta l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4isin kirjani ja tavarani,\r\njotka sitten perisin ulkomailla."\r\n\r\n"Se on selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Mutta sitten piti tuon saastaisen vinti\xc3\xb6n koettaa varastaa minulta!\r\nH\xc3\xa4n _on_ k\xc3\xa4tkenyt kirjani, Kemp. K\xc3\xa4tkenyt minun kirjani!\r\n\r\n"Jospa voisin saada h\xc3\xa4net k\xc3\xa4siini!..."\r\n\r\n"Paras suunnitelmahan olisi ensin saada kirjat h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 takaisin."\r\n\r\n"Mutta miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on? Tied\xc3\xa4ttek\xc3\xb6 te?"\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on kaupungin poliisiasemalla telkien takana, omasta pyynn\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nkoko laitoksen vahvimmassa kopissa."\r\n\r\n"Se roisto!" huudahti N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies.\r\n\r\n"Mutta se sekoittaa v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n teid\xc3\xa4n suunnitelmianne."\r\n\r\n"Meid\xc3\xa4n on saatava nuo kirjat. Ne ovat v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4t elinehdoilleni."\r\n\r\n"Aivan niin", my\xc3\xb6nsi Kemp v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n hermostuneena koettaen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 selville,\r\noliko kuulunut askeleita ulkoa. "Ehdottomasti pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4siksi\r\nniihin kirjoihin. Mutta se ei liene vaikeaa, jollei h\xc3\xa4n tied\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 ne\r\nteille merkitsev\xc3\xa4t."\r\n\r\n"Ei", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies ja vaipui ajatuksiinsa.\r\n\r\nKemp koetti mietti\xc3\xa4, mill\xc3\xa4 saisi keskustelun pysym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vireill\xc3\xa4, mutta\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies ryhtyikin omasta aloitteestaan puhumaan.\r\n\r\n"Teid\xc3\xa4n taloonne joutuminen, Kemp", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "muuttaa suunnitelmani\r\nkokonaan. Sill\xc3\xa4 te olette ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4inen mies. Kaiken uhalla mit\xc3\xa4 on\r\ntapahtunut, t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 julkisuudesta, kirjojeni menett\xc3\xa4misest\xc3\xa4, kaikista\r\nk\xc3\xa4rsimyksist\xc3\xa4ni huolimatta on viel\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4 suuria mahdollisuuksia,\r\nsuunnattomia mahdollisuuksia...\r\n\r\n"Ette suinkaan ole kenellek\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kertonut minun olevan t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nKemp ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i. "Siit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n sovittiin", vastasi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Ei ainoallekaan?" tiukkasi Griffin.\r\n\r\n"En ainoallekaan."\r\n\r\n"No sitten..." N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies nousi seisomaan ja pannen k\xc3\xa4det puuskaan\r\nalkoi astella edestakaisin Kempin ty\xc3\xb6huoneessa.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 tein erehdyksen, Kemp, suunnattoman erehdyksen pannessani\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n muutoksen yksin toimeen. Olen tuhlannut voimia, aikaa, hyvi\xc3\xa4\r\ntilaisuuksia. Yksin! Ihmeellist\xc3\xa4 on, kuinka v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ihminen voi yksin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n!\r\nRy\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, tehd\xc3\xa4 pahaa v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, ja siihen se loppuu.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 tarvitsen, Kemp, vartijaa, auttajaa ja piilopaikkaa, sellaista\r\nj\xc3\xa4rjestely\xc3\xa4, jonka tukemana voin nukkua ja sy\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4 ja lev\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 rauhassa ja\r\nluottavasti. Minulla t\xc3\xa4ytyy olla liittolainen. Kun saan liittolaisen,\r\nruokaa ja lepoa, voin toimittaa tuhansia asioita.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n asti olen kulkenut umpim\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Meid\xc3\xa4n on punnittava kaikkea,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys merkitsee, kaikkea, mit\xc3\xa4 se ei merkitse. Siit\xc3\xa4 on\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n apua r\xc3\xa4yst\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntippumista vastaan ja niin edesp\xc3\xa4in -- siit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n\r\nsyntyy \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni kuitenkin. V\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n se auttaa -- hyvin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ehk\xc3\xa4 -- jos\r\nmurtautuu taloon, ja niin edesp\xc3\xa4in. Kun minut kerran saa kiinni, on\r\nhelppo vangita minut. Mutta toiselta puolen on minua vaikea saada\r\nkiinni. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myys on tosiaankin hyv\xc3\xa4 vain kahdessa suhteessa.\r\nSe on hy\xc3\xb6dyllinen pakoon l\xc3\xa4htiess\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4hestyess\xc3\xa4. Se on siis eritt\xc3\xa4in\r\nhy\xc3\xb6dyllinen tappamisessa. Min\xc3\xa4 voin hiipi\xc3\xa4 ihmisen ymp\xc3\xa4ri, mik\xc3\xa4 ase\r\nh\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 sitten lieneek\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, valita sopivan kohdan, iske\xc3\xa4\r\nmieleni mukaan, v\xc3\xa4istell\xc3\xa4 mieleni mukaan, l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 pakoon mieleni mukaan."\r\n\r\nKempin k\xc3\xa4si kohosi hipaisemaan viiksi\xc3\xa4. Kuuluiko alakerrasta liikett\xc3\xa4?\r\n\r\n"Ja meid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy tappaa, Kemp."\r\n\r\n"Meid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy tappaa", toisti Kemp. "Kuuntelen teid\xc3\xa4n suunnitelmaanne,\r\nGriffin, mutta en hyv\xc3\xa4ksy sit\xc3\xa4, muistakaa se. _Miksi_ tappaa?"\r\n\r\n"Ei suotta tappaa, vaan oikein harkitusti surmata. Asia on n\xc3\xa4in:\r\nhe tiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t, ett\xc3\xa4 on olemassa N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies -- yht\xc3\xa4 hyvin kuin me\r\ntied\xc3\xa4mme N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen olevan olemassa -- ja t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nMiehen, Kemp, pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nyt panna toimeen oikea hirmuhallitus. Niin,\r\nep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 se on kauhistuttavaa, mutta sit\xc3\xa4 tarkoitan. Hirmuhallitus.\r\nT\xc3\xa4ytyy ottaa jokin kaupunki esimerkiksi teid\xc3\xa4n Burdockinne, saattaa\r\nse kauhun valtaan ja hallita sit\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4ytyy jaella k\xc3\xa4skyj\xc3\xa4. Sellaista\r\nsaattaa tehd\xc3\xa4 tuhansin tavoin -- ihan riitt\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 olisivat ovien alitse\r\nty\xc3\xb6nnetyt paperilaput. Ja kaikki, jotka eiv\xc3\xa4t tottele m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4yksi\xc3\xa4,\r\ntapetaan. Samoin kaikki ne, jotka puolustavat vastahakoisia."\r\n\r\n"Ohoh", sanoi Kemp, kuuntelematta en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 Griffini\xc3\xa4, sill\xc3\xa4 muuan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni\r\nilmaisi h\xc3\xa4nen ulko-oveaan avattavan ja suljettavan.\r\n\r\n"Minusta n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, Griffin" virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n salatakseen tarkkaavaisuutensa\r\npuutteen, "ett\xc3\xa4 teid\xc3\xa4n liittolaisenne olisi vaikeassa asemassa".\r\n\r\n"Ei kukaan saisi tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n olisi liittolainen", sanoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nMies innokkaasti. Ja sitten \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4: "Hst! Mit\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4 alakerrassa on?"\r\n\r\n"Ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", vastasi Kemp, ja alkoi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 puhua kovaa ja pontevasti.\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 en suostu siihen, Griffin", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minut oikein,\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 en sit\xc3\xa4 hyv\xc3\xa4ksy. Miksi haaveilla kamppailua kokonaista kansaa\r\nvastaan? Kuinka voitte toivoa siten saavuttavanne onnea? \xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olko\r\nyksin\xc3\xa4inen susi. Julkaiskaa tutkimuksenne -- ottakaa koko maailma\r\n-- ottakaa ainakin yksi kansakunta uskotuksenne. Ajatelkaahan, mit\xc3\xa4\r\nvoisitte tehd\xc3\xa4 miljoonan apulaisen tukemana..."\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies keskeytti h\xc3\xa4net -- k\xc3\xa4si ojennettuna. "Portaista kuului\r\naskeleita", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", virkkoi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Antakaahan minun katsoa", pyysi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies ja kulki k\xc3\xa4si\r\nojennettuna ovelle.\r\n\r\nSitten tapahtumat seurasivat toisiaan hyvin nopeasti. Kemp ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i\r\nhetkisen ja sitten liikahti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies\r\nh\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4hti ja seisahtui. "Petturi!" huusi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 aamupuku aukeni,\r\nja istuutuen tuolille alkoi n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n riisuutua. Kemp harppasi kolme\r\nnopeaa askelta ovelle, ja heti hyp\xc3\xa4hti N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies -- jonka s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ret\r\nolivat kadonneet -- seisomaan ja kiljaisi. Kemp paiskasi oven auki.\r\n\r\nKun se avautui, kuului alakerrasta kiireisi\xc3\xa4 askelia ja \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nNopealla liikkeell\xc3\xa4 Kemp ty\xc3\xb6nsi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen takaisin, hyp\xc3\xa4hti\r\nsyrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja l\xc3\xa4im\xc3\xa4ytti oven kiinni. Avain oli ulkopuolella valmiina.\r\nSeuraavalla hetkell\xc3\xa4 olisi Griffin ollut yksin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vankina n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6tornin\r\nty\xc3\xb6huoneessa -- jollei er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pikku seikkaa olisi sattunut. Avain oli\r\nsin\xc3\xa4 aamuna ty\xc3\xb6nnetty l\xc3\xa4peen kiireesti. Kun Kemp paukautti oven kiinni,\r\nputosi avain kolahtaen matolle.\r\n\r\nKempin kasvot kalpenivat. H\xc3\xa4n koetti tarttua ovenripaan molemmin k\xc3\xa4sin.\r\nHetkisen h\xc3\xa4n seisoi sit\xc3\xa4 kiskomassa. Sitten ovi raottui kuusi tuumaa.\r\nMutta h\xc3\xa4n sai sen taas kiinni. Seuraavalla kerralla se temmattiin\r\njalan leveydelt\xc3\xa4 auki, ja aamupuku tunkeutui oviaukkoon. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4t\r\nsormet tarttuivat h\xc3\xa4nen kurkkuunsa, ja h\xc3\xa4n hellitti otteensa rivasta\r\npuolustaakseen itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4net ty\xc3\xb6nnettiin takaisin, heitettiin kumoon\r\nja sys\xc3\xa4ttiin voimakkaasti portaiden nurkkaukseen. Tyhj\xc3\xa4 aamupuku\r\nviskattiin h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lleen.\r\n\r\nPortaiden puoliv\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4 oli eversti Adye, Kempin l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n kirjeen\r\nsaaja, Burdockin poliisip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4llikk\xc3\xb6. H\xc3\xa4n katseli h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4\r\nKempin \xc3\xa4killist\xc3\xa4 ilmestymist\xc3\xa4, jota seurasi tyhj\xc3\xa4n vaatekappaleen\r\nomituinen lent\xc3\xa4minen ilmassa. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki Kempin paiskautuvan maahan ja\r\nponnistelevan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4kseen jaloilleen, sitten hoipertelevan, sy\xc3\xb6ksyv\xc3\xa4n\r\neteenp\xc3\xa4in ja kaatuvan taas lattialle kuin nujerretun h\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nSenj\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n itse sai rajun iskun. Tyhj\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4! Suunnaton paino, kuten\r\ntuntui, karkasi h\xc3\xa4nen kimppuunsa, ja h\xc3\xa4n vieri suinp\xc3\xa4in alas portaita;\r\njokin kiristi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kurkusta, ja polvi ty\xc3\xb6ntyi h\xc3\xa4nen kuvettaan vasten.\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n jalka polki h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 selk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, aavemainen sipsutus kuului menev\xc3\xa4n\r\nportaita alasp\xc3\xa4in, ja h\xc3\xa4n kuuli kahden poliisin k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 huutavan ja\r\njuoksevan ja talon ulko-oven kovasti paukahtavan.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kier\xc3\xa4hti ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja nousi istumaan ja tuijottamaan. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki Kempin\r\nhoipertelevan alas portaita p\xc3\xb6lyisen\xc3\xa4 ja vaatteet ep\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rjestyksess\xc3\xa4,\r\ntoinen puoli kasvoja valkeina iskuista, huuli vertavuotavana ja\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivarrella vaalea aamupuku ynn\xc3\xa4 muutamia muita vaatekappaleita.\r\n\r\n"Voi taivas!" huusi Kemp. "Nyt alkaa kova leikki! H\xc3\xa4n on poissa!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nVIIDESKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n miehen takaa-ajo\r\n\r\n\r\nJonkun aikaa Kemp puhui niin sekaisin, ettei osannut Adyelle selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nnopeasti toisiaan seuranneita tapauksia. He seisoivat portaiden\r\nsiltamalla, Kemp puhellen h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4isesti, Griffinin eriskummaiset\r\nvaatekappaleet viel\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sivarrellaan. Mutta pian alkoi Adye hieman\r\nk\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tilannetta.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on mielet\xc3\xb6n", sanoi Kemp, "ep\xc3\xa4inhimillinen. H\xc3\xa4n on pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nitsekkyytt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n ei ajattele mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta kuin omaa etuaan, omaa\r\nturvallisuuttaan. Olen t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 aamuna kuunnellut kerrassaan t\xc3\xb6yke\xc3\xa4n\r\nitsek\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 juttua... H\xc3\xa4n on haavoittanut ihmisi\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n saa toimeen\r\npakokauhun. Ei mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n voi pys\xc3\xa4hdytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Nyt h\xc3\xa4n liikkuu ulkona --\r\nraivoissaan!"\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4net t\xc3\xa4ytyy saada kiinni", sanoi Adye. "Se on varmaa."\r\n\r\n"Mutta kuinka?" huusi Kemp ja alkoi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 esitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 monenlaisia tuumia.\r\n"Teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy aloittaa heti, panna kaikki soveliaat miehet ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6n,\r\nest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sem\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pois t\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 seudulta. Kun h\xc3\xa4n kerran p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4see\r\npakoon, voi h\xc3\xa4n kulkea mielens\xc3\xa4 mukaan pitkin maaseutua, tappaa ja\r\nsilpoa. H\xc3\xa4n haaveilee hirmuhallitusta! Suorastaan hirmuhallitusta.\r\nTeid\xc3\xa4n pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vartijoita junille ja maanteille ja laivoille.\r\nSotav\xc3\xa4en pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 auttaa. Teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 apua. Ainoa asia,\r\njoka voi pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, on toivo saada takaisin muutamat\r\nmuistiinpanokirjat, joita h\xc3\xa4n pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 arvokkaina. Selit\xc3\xa4n sen teille!\r\nTeill\xc3\xa4 on poliisiasemalla er\xc3\xa4s mies -- Marvel."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 tied\xc3\xa4n sen", sanoi Adye, "kyll\xc3\xa4 tied\xc3\xa4n. Ne kirjat -- jaha. Mutta\r\nkulkuri..."\r\n\r\n"V\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ettei h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 ole niit\xc3\xa4. Mutta h\xc3\xa4n luulee kulkurilla olevan.\r\nJa teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ja nukkumasta -- y\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\npit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 koko seudun olla jalkeilla h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 takaa-ajamassa. Ruoka t\xc3\xa4ytyy\r\npanna telkien taakse hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n talteen, kaikki ruoka, niin ettei h\xc3\xa4n saa\r\nsit\xc3\xa4 muutoin kuin murtautumalla taloihin. Kaikki ovet t\xc3\xa4ytyy sulkea\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4. Taivas l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n meille kylmi\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xb6it\xc3\xa4 ja sadetta! Koko\r\nseudun t\xc3\xa4ytyy ruveta ajamaan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 takaa eik\xc3\xa4 saa hellitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kesken.\r\nKuulkaahan, Adye, h\xc3\xa4n on oikea vaara, onnettomuus -- jollei h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 saada\r\nkiinni ja panna lukkojen taakse, on pelottavaa ajatella, mit\xc3\xa4 voi\r\ntapahtua."\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 muuta voimme tehd\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Adye. "Minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy paikalla menn\xc3\xa4\r\nasiaa j\xc3\xa4rjest\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Mutta miksette tulisi mukaan? Niin -- tulkaa tekin!\r\nPid\xc3\xa4mme jonkinlaisen sotaneuvottelun -- otamme avuksi Hoppsin -- ja\r\nrautatievirkamiehet. Hitto vie, t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on kiire. Menn\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n nyt -- kertokaa\r\nminulle kaikki matkalla. Mit\xc3\xa4 muuta voimme tehd\xc3\xa4? Heitt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nuo kampsut\r\npois."\r\n\r\nSamassa Adye l\xc3\xa4hti ensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 alas. He huomasivat ulko-oven olevan\r\nauki ja poliisien seisovan ulkopuolella tuijottamassa tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ilmaan.\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on mennyt pois, herra", virkkoi toinen.\r\n\r\n"Meid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy heti l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 keskusasemalle", sanoi Adye. "Toinen teist\xc3\xa4\r\nl\xc3\xa4htek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n hakemaan ajoneuvot t\xc3\xa4nne meit\xc3\xa4 vastaan -- nopeasti. Ja nyt,\r\nKemp, mit\xc3\xa4 muuta?"\r\n\r\n"Koiria", virkkoi Kemp. "Hankkikaa koiria. Ne eiv\xc3\xa4t n\xc3\xa4e h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, mutta\r\nvainuavat h\xc3\xa4net. Hankkikaa koiria."\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4 on", sanoi Adye. "Sit\xc3\xa4 ei yleens\xc3\xa4 tiedet\xc3\xa4, mutta Halsteadin\r\nvankilan viranomaiset tiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t miehen, jolla on verikoiria. Siis\r\nkoiria. Mit\xc3\xa4 muuta?"\r\n\r\n"Muistakaa", sanoi Kemp. "ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen ruokansa n\xc3\xa4kyy. Aterian j\xc3\xa4lkeen\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyy h\xc3\xa4nen ruokansa, kunnes se on sulanut niin ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen on\r\npiileskelt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6nnin j\xc3\xa4lkeen. Teid\xc3\xa4n pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 herke\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 kulkea ristiin\r\nrastiin. Joka tiheik\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4, jokaisessa hiljaisessa loukossa. Ja pankaa\r\npois kaikki aseet -- kaikki kapineet, jotka voisivat kelvata aseiksi.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ei voi kuljettaa sellaisia esineit\xc3\xa4 kauan. Ja kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n voi\r\nsiepata k\xc3\xa4teens\xc3\xa4 ja k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ly\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4esinein\xc3\xa4, on k\xc3\xa4tkett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4 on", sanoi Adye. "Me saamme h\xc3\xa4net viel\xc3\xa4 kiinni!"\r\n\r\n"Ja maanteille..." jatkoi Kemp ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iden.\r\n\r\n"No?" kysyi Adye.\r\n\r\n"Lasijauhoa", sanoi Kemp. "Se on kyll\xc3\xa4 julmaa. Mutta ajatelkaa, mit\xc3\xa4\r\nkaikkea h\xc3\xa4n voi tehd\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\nAdye veti kiivaasti ilmaa keuhkoihinsa hampaittensa v\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xa4. "Se ei\r\nole oikein miesm\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4. Enp\xc3\xa4 tied\xc3\xa4. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 hankin kyll\xc3\xa4 varalle\r\nlasijauhoa. Jos h\xc3\xa4n menee liian pitk\xc3\xa4lle..."\r\n\r\n"Se mies on muuttunut ep\xc3\xa4inhimilliseksi, uskokaa pois", sanoi Kemp.\r\n"Olen ihan varma siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n panee toimeen hirmuhallituksen -- heti\r\nkun h\xc3\xa4n on vapautunut t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n paon her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 mieltenkuohusta -- se on\r\nyht\xc3\xa4 varmaa kuin ett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 nyt puhelen teille. Meid\xc3\xa4n ainoa toivomme\r\non se, ett\xc3\xa4 eh\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4mme h\xc3\xa4nen edelleen. H\xc3\xa4n on katkaissut suhteensa omaan\r\nkansaansa. Saakoon h\xc3\xa4n omalla verell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sen sovittaa."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKUUDESKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nWicksteedin murha\r\n\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies oli ilmeisesti silmitt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n raivon vallassa rynn\xc3\xa4nnyt\r\nulos Kempin talosta. Er\xc3\xa4s pieni lapsi, joka leikki l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 Kempin\r\nporttik\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, siepattiin rajusti maasta ja heitettiin tiensivuun,\r\nniin ett\xc3\xa4 sen nilkka meni sijoiltaan. Senj\xc3\xa4lkeen katosi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies\r\nmuutamiksi tunneiksi, niin ettei h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 kuultu mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ei kukaan\r\ntied\xc3\xa4, minne h\xc3\xa4n meni tai mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n teki. Mutta voimme kuvitella\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen rient\xc3\xa4neen kuumana kes\xc3\xa4kuun aamup\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6s kukkulalle ja\r\nsielt\xc3\xa4 edelleen Port Burdockin takaiselle aukealle hiekkanummelle\r\nep\xc3\xa4toivoissaan siet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 kohtalostaan ja lopulta hiestyneen\xc3\xa4\r\nja v\xc3\xa4syneen\xc3\xa4 piileskelleen Hintondeanin viidakossa, punoakseen\r\npirstoutuneet suunnitelmansa taas kokoon l\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vastaan.\r\nTodenn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isimmin h\xc3\xa4n pakeni juuri sinne, sill\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n taas ryhtyi\r\ntoimimaan hirve\xc3\xa4n surullisella tavalla noin kahden ajoissa iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nVoisi kysy\xc3\xa4, millainen h\xc3\xa4nen mielentilansa lienee silloin ollut ja mit\xc3\xa4\r\nsuunnitelmia h\xc3\xa4n siell\xc3\xa4 hautoi. Ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli ihan suunniltaan\r\nraivosta Kempin kavaluuden vuoksi, ja vaikka voimmekin ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ne\r\nvaikuttimet, jotka johtivat t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n petokseen, sopii kuitenkin kuvitella,\r\nviel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 jonkun verran tunteakin samaa kiukkua, joka sellaisesta\r\naiotusta yll\xc3\xa4tyksest\xc3\xa4 her\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Ehk\xc3\xa4 oli h\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4 palannut jotakin\r\nsiit\xc3\xa4 huumaavasta h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksest\xc3\xa4, jota h\xc3\xa4n oli kokenut Oxford-kadun\r\nvarrella, sill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli ilmeisesti luullut voivansa luottaa Kempin\r\nmy\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4vaikutukseen petomaisessa haaveessaan saattaa maailma kauhun\r\nvaltaan. Joka tapauksessa h\xc3\xa4n katosi ihmisten havaintopiirist\xc3\xa4\r\npuolip\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n tienoissa, eik\xc3\xa4 kukaan el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 todistaja voi kertoa, mit\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4n teki noin puolikolmeen asti. Se oli ehk\xc3\xa4 onneksi ihmisille, mutta\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelle itselleen se oli turmiollista toimettomuuden aikaa.\r\n\r\nSill\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4lin puuhasi yh\xc3\xa4 kasvava miesjoukko, joka oli hajautunut yli\r\nseudun. Aamulla h\xc3\xa4n oli viel\xc3\xa4 ollut pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tarua, ihmisten pel\xc3\xa4tin.\r\nIltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4asiassa Kempin kuivasti lausumain tiedonantojen\r\nnojalla, h\xc3\xa4n tuntui kaikista todelliselta vastustajalta, jota piti\r\nhaavoittaa, joka oli vangittava tai nujerrettava, ja paikkakunta alkoi\r\nj\xc3\xa4rjest\xc3\xa4yty\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n nopeasti. Kahden aikanakin h\xc3\xa4n olisi viel\xc3\xa4\r\nvoinut poistua seudulta nousemalla junaan, mutta kahden j\xc3\xa4lkeen se oli\r\nmahdotonta. Jokainen matkustajajuna pitkin suuren suunnikkaan sivuja\r\nSouthamptonin, Winchesterin, Brightonin ja Horshamin v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4 kulki\r\novet lukossa, ja tavaraliikenne oli melkein kokonaan keskeytetty. Ja\r\nkolmenkymmenen kilometrin keh\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 Port Burdockin ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4 liikkui\r\nalituisesti kiv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reill\xc3\xa4 ja lyijynuppisilla sauvoilla asestettuja miehi\xc3\xa4\r\nkolmen tai nelj\xc3\xa4n ryhmiss\xc3\xa4 koirien kera, ristiin rastiin teill\xc3\xa4 ja\r\npelloilla.\r\n\r\nRatsupoliiseja oli liikkeell\xc3\xa4 pitkin kaikkia kujia. Ne pys\xc3\xa4htyiv\xc3\xa4t joka\r\nm\xc3\xb6kin eteen ja varoittivat ihmisi\xc3\xa4 lukitsemaan talonsa ja pysym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsis\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, jolleiv\xc3\xa4t olleet asestettuja. Kaikki koulut olivat lopettaneet\r\nty\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4 kolmen aikana, ja lapset kiirehtiv\xc3\xa4t kotiin pel\xc3\xa4stynein\xc3\xa4\r\nja pysytellen ryhmiss\xc3\xa4. Kempin julistus -- jonka Adye tosin oli\r\nallekirjoittanut -- oli asetettu n\xc3\xa4kyviin melkein koko seudulla nelj\xc3\xa4n\r\nviiden ajoissa iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4. Se kuvaili lyhyesti, mutta selv\xc3\xa4sti kaikki\r\ntaistelun ehdot, selitti v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 Miest\xc3\xa4\r\nsaamasta ruokaa ja unta, vaati ehdottomasti yht\xc3\xa4mittaista varuillaan\r\nolemista ja kehoitti valppaasti tarkkaamaan h\xc3\xa4nen liikkumisensa\r\nmerkkej\xc3\xa4. Niin nopeaa ja t\xc3\xa4sm\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4 oli viranomaisten toiminta, niin\r\n\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 her\xc3\xa4nnyt ja yleinen oli usko t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n omituiseen ihmiseen, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nennen y\xc3\xb6n tuloa oli monen sadan neli\xc3\xb6kilometrin ala ehdottomassa\r\npiiritystilassa. Sit\xc3\xa4paitsi kulki illalla kauhunv\xc3\xa4ristys l\xc3\xa4pi koko\r\nvartioston, koko hermostuneen paikkakunnan, lent\xc3\xa4en kuiskauksena suusta\r\nsuuhun. Nopeasti ja varmasti levisi yli koko seudun joka suuntaan\r\nkertomus herra Wicksteedin murhasta.\r\n\r\nJos se arvelumme on oikea, ett\xc3\xa4 N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen pakopaikkana\r\noli Hintondeanin viidakko, t\xc3\xa4ytyy meid\xc3\xa4n otaksua, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n varhain\r\niltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 riensi taas pois hautoen jotakin sellaista suunnitelmaa,\r\njoka vaati aseen k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4mist\xc3\xa4. Emme voi tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mik\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen aikeensa\r\noli, mutta se seikka, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli rautakanki k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ennenkuin\r\nh\xc3\xa4n tapasi Wicksteedin, on ainakin minusta vastaanv\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\ntodistuskappale.\r\n\r\nEmme tietenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n voi sanoa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n varmaa tuon kahakan yksityiskohdista.\r\nSe tapahtui er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hiekkakuopan reunalla, vajaan parin sadan metrin\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 loordi Burdockin huvilan portilta. Kaikki viittaa ep\xc3\xa4toivoiseen\r\ntappeluun -- tallattu maa, herra Wicksteedin saamat monet haavat,\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen s\xc3\xa4rkynyt keppins\xc3\xa4; mutta mahdotonta on kuvitella, miksi\r\nhy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4yst\xc3\xa4 olisi tehty muutoin kuin murharaivossa. Tuleepa melkein\r\nehdottomasti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4telleeksi h\xc3\xa4nen olleen j\xc3\xa4rjilt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Herra Wicksteed\r\noli nelj\xc3\xa4nkymmenen viiden tai -kuuden vanha mies, loordi Burdockin\r\npehtori, hyvin siivo tavoiltaan ja ulkomuodoltaan. Viimeisen\xc3\xa4 kaikista\r\nolisi h\xc3\xa4n voinut kiihoittaa niin kauheaa vastustajaa. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyy k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4neen rautakankea, kun toinen oli menossa rauhallisesti\r\nkotiinsa p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4lliselle, hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4nen kimppuunsa, musersi h\xc3\xa4nen heikot\r\npuolustusyrityksens\xc3\xa4, taittoi h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivartensa, kaatoi h\xc3\xa4net ja\r\nmurskasi h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 sohjoksi.\r\n\r\nTietysti h\xc3\xa4nen oli t\xc3\xa4ytynyt kiskaista rautakanki aidasta, ennenkuin\r\ntapasi uhrinsa -- h\xc3\xa4nen oli t\xc3\xa4ytynyt pidell\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 valmiina k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nVain kaksi yksityisseikkaa sen lis\xc3\xa4ksi, mit\xc3\xa4 jo on esitetty, n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n oudostuttavan. Toinen niist\xc3\xa4 on se, ett\xc3\xa4 hiekkakuoppa ei ollut\r\nherra Wicksteedin suoran kotimatkan varrella, vaan melkein parin sadan\r\nmetrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen reitilt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Toinen on er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pikku tyt\xc3\xb6n vakuutus,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4kouluun menness\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki murhatun miehen juosta\r\nharppaavan omituisella tavalla pellon poikki hiekkakuopalle p\xc3\xa4in. Tyt\xc3\xb6n\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytetty\xc3\xa4 liikkeill\xc3\xa4, kuinka Wicksteed oli kulkenut, saattoi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen seuranneen jotakin edess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olevaa ja ly\xc3\xb6neen sit\xc3\xa4 tuon tuostakin\r\nk\xc3\xa4velykepill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Tytt\xc3\xb6 oli viimeinen henkil\xc3\xb6, joka n\xc3\xa4ki h\xc3\xa4net elossa.\r\nWicksteed katosi h\xc3\xa4nen n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuolemaansa kohti. Taistelun peitti\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen silmilt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vain pieni koivuryhm\xc3\xa4 ja matala notko.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 osoittaa ainakin kirjoittajan mielest\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 murhaa ei tehty\r\npelk\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 oikusta. Voimme kuvitella joka tapauksessa Griffinin ottaneen\r\nrautakangen aseekseen, mutta ilman harkittua tarkoitusta k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nsit\xc3\xa4 murhaamiseen. Sitten on Wicksteed kaiketi saapunut paikalle\r\nja huomannut kangen selitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 tavalla liikkuvan ilmassa.\r\nAjattelematta ollenkaan N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 Miest\xc3\xa4 -- sill\xc3\xa4 Port Burdock on\r\nsielt\xc3\xa4 noin penikulman p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 -- h\xc3\xa4n lienee l\xc3\xa4htenyt ajamaan sit\xc3\xa4\r\ntakaa. Hyvin luultavaa on, ettei h\xc3\xa4n ollut edes kuullut puhuttavan\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Miehest\xc3\xa4. Voi siis kuvitella N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen\r\nl\xc3\xa4hteneen rauhallisesti pois aikoen v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ilmituloa l\xc3\xa4hiseudulla.\r\nWicksteed seurasi t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 selitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti liikkuvaa esinett\xc3\xa4\r\nkiihoittuneena ja uteliaana, k\xc3\xa4yden siihen lopulta k\xc3\xa4siksi.\r\n\r\nEp\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 olisi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies tavallisissa oloissa voinut helposti\r\nj\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4lkeens\xc3\xa4 keski-ik\xc3\xa4isen takaa-ajajansa; mutta paikka, jossa\r\nherra Wicksteedin ruumis tavattiin, ilmaisee h\xc3\xa4nen onnettomuudekseen\r\npakottaneen saaliinsa polttavien nokkosten ja hiekkakuopan v\xc3\xa4liseen\r\nnurkkaan. Niiden, jotka tuntevat N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen tavattoman\r\npikavihaisuuden, on helppo kuvitella kahakan loppupuoli.\r\n\r\nMutta se on pelkk\xc3\xa4 otaksuma. Ainoat varmat tosiseikat -- sill\xc3\xa4\r\nlasten kertomukset ovat usein ep\xc3\xa4luotettavia -- ovat Wicksteedin\r\nhengett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n ruumiin ja nokkosten joukkoon heitetyn verisen rautakangen\r\nl\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4minen. Se seikka, ett\xc3\xa4 Griffin oli j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt aseensa, osoittaa\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen mielenkuohussaan luopuneen siit\xc3\xa4 mahdollisesta suunnitelmasta,\r\njota varten h\xc3\xa4n oli sen ottanut. H\xc3\xa4n oli kyll\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4 itsekk\xc3\xa4in ja\r\ntunteettomin mies, mutta h\xc3\xa4nen uhrinsa, ensimm\xc3\xa4isen uhrinsa n\xc3\xa4keminen\r\nverisen\xc3\xa4 ja s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 maassa virumassa lienee p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4nyt vallalleen\r\njonkin kauan tukittuna olleen katumuksen l\xc3\xa4hteen, joka kaiketi tulvi\r\njonkun aikaa, mit\xc3\xa4 tahansa h\xc3\xa4n muuten olikin suunnitellut.\r\n\r\nHerra Wicksteedin murhan j\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kulkeneen hiekkanummelle\r\np\xc3\xa4in. Huhu kertoo Fern Bottomin l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 pellolla ty\xc3\xb6skennelleiden parin\r\nmiehen kuulleen auringonlaskun aikana jotakin \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Se valitti ja\r\nnauroi, nyyhkytti ja voihki ja tuon tuostakin huudahti. Varmaankin se\r\non ollut perin outoa. \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni oli siirtynyt keskelt\xc3\xa4 yli apilapellon ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4ipyi vuorille p\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\nSill\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4lin oli N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies varmasti saanut jonkin verran tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\nkuinka nopeasti Kemp oli k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt hyv\xc3\xa4kseen h\xc3\xa4nen luottamustaan. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\noli t\xc3\xa4ytynyt huomata, ett\xc3\xa4 talot oli lukittu ja teljet joka ovella;\r\nkaiketi h\xc3\xa4n oli kuljeskellut rautatieasemien l\xc3\xa4hist\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4, hiiviskellyt\r\nmajatalojen tienoilla ja ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 lukenut julistukset saaden\r\njonkinlaisen k\xc3\xa4sityksen itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vastaan aloitetun sotaretken laadusta.\r\nIllan l\xc3\xa4hestyess\xc3\xa4 ilmestyi sinne t\xc3\xa4nne pelloille kolmen nelj\xc3\xa4n miehen\r\nryhmi\xc3\xa4 ja kuului koirien haukkumista. N\xc3\xa4ille miehille oli annettu\r\nerikoiset ohjeet siit\xc3\xa4, kuinka heid\xc3\xa4n tuli auttaa toinen toistaan\r\nmahdollisen kahakan syntyess\xc3\xa4. Mutta h\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4ltti heit\xc3\xa4 kaikkia. Voimme\r\njonkun verran ymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen katkeruuttaan, joka mahdollisesti oli\r\nsit\xc3\xa4kin voimakkaampi senvuoksi, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli itse antanut ne tiedot,\r\njoita nyt h\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4ytettiin h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 vastaan. Siksi p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ksi h\xc3\xa4n\r\nainakin menetti rohkeutensa, sill\xc3\xa4 melkein vuorokauden, lukuunottamatta\r\nsit\xc3\xa4 aikaa, joka h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 meni Wicksteedin ahdistamiseen, h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\ntakaa-ajettavana. Y\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen oli t\xc3\xa4ytynyt sy\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4 ja nukkua, sill\xc3\xa4\r\naamulla h\xc3\xa4n oli j\xc3\xa4lleen oma itsens\xc3\xa4, toimelias, voimakas, vihainen ja\r\npahasisuinen, valmis ryhtym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n viimeiseen suureen kamppailuunsa mailman\r\nkanssa.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSEITSEM\xc3\x84SKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nKempin talon piiritys\r\n\r\n\r\nKemp luki omituisen kirjeen, joka oli kirjoitettu lyijykyn\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\nrasvaiselle paperille.\r\n\r\n"Olette ollut h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n tarmokas ja taitava", sanottiin siin\xc3\xa4,\r\n"vaikken voikaan kuvitella, mihin te sill\xc3\xa4 pyritte. Te olette minua\r\nvastaan. Kokonaisen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n olette ajanut minua takaa -- olette\r\nkoettanut riist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minulta y\xc3\xb6levon. Mutta min\xc3\xa4 olen saanut ruokaa\r\nkiusallannekin, nukkunut vastoin tahtoanne, ja leikki on vasta alussa.\r\nNiin, vasta alussa. Ei ole muuta neuvoa kuin aloittaa hirmuhallitus.\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 julistaa hirmuhallituksen ensimm\xc3\xa4isen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n tulleen. Port\r\nBurdock ei ole en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuningattaren hallittavana. Kertokaa se\r\npoliisip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4llik\xc3\xb6llenne ja muille. Nyt hallitsen min\xc3\xa4 -- hirmuvaltias!\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on uuden ajanlaskun ensimm\xc3\xa4isen vuoden ensi p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 -- N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nMiehen aikakausi alkaa. Min\xc3\xa4 olen N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies Ensimm\xc3\xa4inen. Aluksi\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 hallitus on liev\xc3\xa4. Ensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 mestataan esimerkin\r\nvuoksi yksi, Kemp niminen mies. Kuolema kohtaa h\xc3\xa4net t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nsaa lukita itsens\xc3\xa4 telkien taakse, piiloutua, hankkia vartijat\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen, hankkia panssarin, jos tahtoo -- mutta kuolema, n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nkuolema tulee. Turvautukoon h\xc3\xa4n kaikkiin varokeinoihin -- se tehoo\r\nkyl\xc3\xa4kansaani. Kuolema l\xc3\xa4htee postilaatikosta puolip\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n aikaan. Kirje\r\nsolahtaa sinne postimiehen tullessa, ja sitten mars! Leikki alkaa.\r\nKuolema l\xc3\xa4htee liikkeelle. \xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 auttako h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, ihmiset, ettei Kuolema\r\nk\xc3\xa4y teid\xc3\xa4nkin kimppuunne. T\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy Kempin kuolla."\r\n\r\nLuettuaan pariin kertaan t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n kirjeen Kemp sanoi: "Se ei ole pilaa.\r\nSiin\xc3\xa4 kuuluu h\xc3\xa4nen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nens\xc3\xa4. Ja h\xc3\xa4n tarkoittaa, mit\xc3\xa4 sanoo."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi taivutetun arkin toisin p\xc3\xa4in ja n\xc3\xa4ki osoitepuolella\r\nHintondeanin postileiman ja proosallisen ilmoituksen: "_maksettava 2\r\npenny\xc3\xa4_".\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n nousi hitaasti, j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en puolisensa kesken -- kirje oli tullut\r\nkello yhden postissa -- ja meni ty\xc3\xb6huoneeseensa. H\xc3\xa4n soitti\r\ntaloudenhoitajatartaan ja k\xc3\xa4ski t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n paikalla kiert\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 talon ymp\xc3\xa4ri,\r\ntutkia kaikki ikkunoiden hakaset ja sulkea kaikki ikkunaluukut.\r\nItse h\xc3\xa4n pani kiinni ty\xc3\xb6huoneensa luukut. Makuuhuoneensa lukitusta\r\nlaatikosta h\xc3\xa4n otti pienen revolverin, tarkasti sit\xc3\xa4 huolellisesti ja\r\npisti sen kotitakkinsa taskuun. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n kirjoitti muutamia lyhyit\xc3\xa4\r\nkirjeit\xc3\xa4, yhden eversti Adyelle, ja antoi ne palvelijansa viet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi,\r\nsamalla sanellen h\xc3\xa4nelle selv\xc3\xa4t m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ykset, mill\xc3\xa4 lailla h\xc3\xa4nen oli\r\nl\xc3\xa4hdett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 talosta. "Mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vaaraa ei ole", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n ja lis\xc3\xa4si salaa\r\nmieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n: "teille". Senj\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n mietiskeli jonkun aikaa ja palasi\r\nsitten j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4htyneen puolisensa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4reen.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xb6i vaipuen silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in ajatuksiinsa. Vihdoin h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xb6i k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4\r\nvoimakkaasti p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "Me otamme h\xc3\xa4net kiinni!" sanoi h\xc3\xa4n, "ja min\xc3\xa4\r\nolen sy\xc3\xb6ttin\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n tulee liian pitk\xc3\xa4lle."\r\n\r\nKemp meni yl\xc3\xb6s n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6torniin ja sulki huolellisesti joka oven\r\nj\xc3\xa4ljess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on peli\xc3\xa4", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n, "outoa peli\xc3\xa4 -- mutta kaikki\r\nvoitonmahdollisuudet ovat minun puolellani, herra Griffin, vaikka\r\nolettekin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n ja rohkea. Griffin _contra mundum_ ... kosto\r\nmieless\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n seisoi ikkunan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4 katsellen helteist\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xa4ensyrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\n"H\xc3\xa4nen t\xc3\xa4ytyy saada ruokaa joka p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 - enk\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kadehdi.\r\nNukkuikohan h\xc3\xa4n todellakin viime y\xc3\xb6n\xc3\xa4? Jossakin ulkosalla -- turvassa\r\nyhteent\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4yksilt\xc3\xa4. Toivoisinpa, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n kuumuuden sijasta saisimme\r\ntuntuvasti viile\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4n ja m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n ilman. H\xc3\xa4n voi nyt vaania minua."\r\n\r\nKemp astui ihan ikkunan eteen. Jotakin kalahti kovasti puitteiden\r\nyl\xc3\xa4puolelle muuraukseen ja sai h\xc3\xa4net rajusti per\xc3\xa4ytym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Alan jo hermostua", virkkoi Kemp. Mutta vasta viiden minuutin kuluttua\r\nh\xc3\xa4n taas meni ikkunan luo. "Varmaankin se oli jokin varpunen", tuumi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n kuuli ulko-oven kellon soivan ja kiiruhti alakertaan.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n veti salvan syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, tutki ketjua, nosti irti sen ja avasi oven\r\nvarovasti n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Tuttu \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni tervehti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Siell\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nAdye. "Teid\xc3\xa4n palvelijanne kimppuun on hy\xc3\xb6k\xc3\xa4tty, Kemp", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n oven\r\ntakaa.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4!" huudahti Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Se kirjeenne temmattiin h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies on t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hist\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4.\r\nP\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minut sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\nKemp irroitti ketjun, ja Adye tuli sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niin ahtaasta aukosta\r\nkuin mahdollista. H\xc3\xa4n seisoi k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja katseli sanomattomasti\r\nhuojentuneen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6isen\xc3\xa4, kuinka Kemp j\xc3\xa4lleen sulki oven. "Kirje\r\nsiepattiin h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Se s\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4hdytti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 pahanp\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4isesti.\r\nTytt\xc3\xb6 on nyt poliisiasemalla, hermopuuskan vallassa. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies on\r\nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hist\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4. Mit\xc3\xa4 kirje koski?"\r\n\r\nKemp kirosi.\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4 hupsu min\xc3\xa4 olinkaan!" huudahti h\xc3\xa4n. "Minun olisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\nT\xc3\xa4nne ei ole tunninkaan k\xc3\xa4velymatkaa Hintondeanista. Nyt jo!"\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 sitten?" kysyi Adye.\r\n\r\n"Katsokaahan!" sanoi Kemp ja astui edell\xc3\xa4 ty\xc3\xb6huoneeseensa. H\xc3\xa4n ojensi\r\nAdyelle N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen kirjeen. Adye, luki sen ja vihelsi hiljaa.\r\n"Ja te...?" kysyi Adye.\r\n\r\n"Ehdotin ansaa -- kuin hupsu", vastasi Kemp, "ja l\xc3\xa4hetin ehdotukseni\r\nnaispalvelijan mukana. H\xc3\xa4nelle."\r\n\r\nNyt kirosi Adyekin.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n laittautuu tiehens\xc3\xa4", virkkoi Adye.\r\n\r\n"Johan nyt!" sanoi Kemp.\r\n\r\nYl\xc3\xa4kerrasta kuului s\xc3\xa4rkyv\xc3\xa4n lasin helin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Adye n\xc3\xa4ki vilahdukselta\r\nKempin taskusta puolittain esiinty\xc3\xb6ntyv\xc3\xa4n pikku revolverin. "Se on\r\nyl\xc3\xa4kerran ikkuna", sanoi Kemp ja l\xc3\xa4hti edell\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6s. Heid\xc3\xa4n viel\xc3\xa4\r\nollessaan portailla kuului toinen hel\xc3\xa4hdys. Tullessaan ty\xc3\xb6huoneeseen he\r\nn\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t sen kolmesta ikkunasta kahden olevan s\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4lein\xc3\xa4. Toinen puoli\r\nlattiaa oli lasinsirpaleiden peitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4, ja kirjoitusp\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 oli iso\r\nkivi. Miehet j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t ovelle katselemaan h\xc3\xa4vityst\xc3\xa4. Kemp kirosi taas\r\nja samassa kuului kolmannesta ikkunasta aivan kuin pistolinlaukaus,\r\npuolisko roikkui hetkisen irrallaan ja putosi huoneen lattialle\r\nhajanaisina, v\xc3\xa4risevin\xc3\xa4 kolmikulmioina.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 merkitsee?" kysyi Adye.\r\n\r\n"Se on alkua", sanoi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 t\xc3\xa4nne voi kiivet\xc3\xa4 mink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kautta?"\r\n\r\n"Ei kissakaan", vastasi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 ole ikkunaluukkuja?"\r\n\r\n"Ei t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4. Kaikissa alakerran huoneissa on. Ohoh!"\r\n\r\nL\xc3\xa4iskis, ja sitten alakerrasta kuului kovaa paukkinaa, ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin olisi\r\nly\xc3\xb6ty lautoja vastakkain. "Kirottu mies!" sanoi Kemp. "Sen t\xc3\xa4ytyy\r\nolla -- niin - se on yksi makuuhuoneista. H\xc3\xa4n mullistasi nyt koko\r\ntalon. Mutta h\xc3\xa4n on hupsu. Luukut ovat paikoillaan, ja lasit putoavat\r\nulkopuolelle. H\xc3\xa4n loukkaa jalkansa."\r\n\r\nEr\xc3\xa4s toinenkin ikkuna kuului menev\xc3\xa4n rikki. Molemmat miehet seisoivat\r\nportaiden siltamalla neuvottomina.\r\n\r\n"Nytp\xc3\xa4 tied\xc3\xa4n!" sanoi sitten Adye. "Antakaa minulle keppi tai jokin muu\r\nesine. Min\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hden hankkimaan verikoirat t\xc3\xa4nne. Silloin h\xc3\xa4nen pit\xc3\xa4isi\r\nlauhtua!"\r\n\r\nTaas muuan ikkuna seurasi toisten esimerkki\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Eik\xc3\xb6 teill\xc3\xa4 ole revolveria?" kysyi Adye.\r\n\r\nKemp pisti k\xc3\xa4den laskuunsa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i.\r\n\r\n"Minulla ei ole muuta kuin t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 tuon sen lakaisin", sanoi Adye. "Te olette t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 turvassa."\r\n\r\nKemp ojensi h\xc3\xa4nelle aseensa, h\xc3\xa4peill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4valheestaan.\r\n\r\n"Nyt ovelle", sanoi Adye\r\n\r\nHe kuulivat ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iden seisoessaan k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 muuan alakerran\r\nmakuuhuoneen ikkuna s\xc3\xa4rkyi ja lensi alas. Kemp meni ovelle ja alkoi\r\nirroittaa salpoja niin hiljaa kuin mahdollista. H\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa olivat\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n kalpeammat kuin tavallisesti.\r\n\r\n"Teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy menn\xc3\xa4 suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 ulos", sanoi Kemp.\r\n\r\nSamassa oli Adye ulkoportailla ja salvat putosivat j\xc3\xa4lleen\r\nsinkil\xc3\xb6ihins\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n oli v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n aikaa kahden vaiheilla, ja h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 tuntui\r\nturvallisemmalta seisoa selk\xc3\xa4 ovea vasten. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n marssi suoraan ja\r\ntasaisesti portaita alas. H\xc3\xa4n meni nurmikon poikki ja l\xc3\xa4hestyi ver\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\nHeikko leyhk\xc3\xa4 tuntui v\xc3\xa4reilev\xc3\xa4n ruoholla. Jokin liikkui h\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"Seisahtukaa hetkeksi", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni, ja Adye pys\xc3\xa4htyi kohta. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\nk\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 puristi lujemmin revolveria.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 nyt?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n kalpeana ja t\xc3\xb6yke\xc3\xa4sti, joka hermo j\xc3\xa4nnityksess\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Suvaitkaa tehd\xc3\xa4 minulle mieliksi ja menn\xc3\xa4 takaisin taloon", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni\r\nyht\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4nnittyneen\xc3\xa4 ja t\xc3\xb6yke\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kuin Adyenkin.\r\n\r\n"Ik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kyll\xc3\xa4, en voi", vastasi Adye v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4he\xc3\xa4sti ja kostutti huuliaan\r\nkielell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n luuli \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen tulevan edest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vasemmalta puolelta.\r\nMit\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, jos yritt\xc3\xa4isi onneaan, laukauksella?\r\n\r\n"Minne te menette?" kysyi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. Kumpainenkin liikahti nopeasti ja Adyen\r\navoimesta taskunsuusta n\xc3\xa4kyi jotakin kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nAdye seisahtui ja mietti. "Se on oma asiani, minne menen", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n\r\nhitaasti. N\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 sanat olivat viel\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen huulillaan, kun k\xc3\xa4sivarsi\r\nkiertyi h\xc3\xa4nen kaulansa ymp\xc3\xa4ri, polvi painui h\xc3\xa4nen selk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 vasten, ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4n lensi sel\xc3\xa4lleen. H\xc3\xa4n viritti revolverin ja laukaisi sen k\xc3\xb6mpel\xc3\xb6sti.\r\nSamassa h\xc3\xa4n sai iskun vasten suutaan, ja revolveri v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnettiin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nk\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Turhaan h\xc3\xa4n koetti tarttua johonkin liukkaaseen raajaan,\r\nrimpuili pystyyn ja kaatui taas. "Kirottua!" sanoi Adye. \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni nauroi.\r\n"Tappaisin teid\xc3\xa4t nyt, jollei se olisi luodin tuhlausta", virkkoi se.\r\nAdye n\xc3\xa4ki revolverin ilmassa itseens\xc3\xa4 suunnattuna.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 nyt?" kysyi Adye nousten istumaan.\r\n\r\n"Nouskaa pystyyn", sanoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni. Adye kompuroi seisaalle.\r\n\r\n"Kuulkaahan", virkkoi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni lujasti, "\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 yritt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 konstailla.\r\nMuistakaa, ett\xc3\xa4 voin n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 teid\xc3\xa4n kasvonne, vaikkette te voi n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4\r\nminua. Teid\xc3\xa4n on ment\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 takaisin sis\xc3\xa4lle."\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n ei p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 minua sinne", sanoi Adye.\r\n\r\n"Sep\xc3\xa4 on ik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", virkkoi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "En ollenkaan halua riitaa\r\nteid\xc3\xa4n kanssanne."\r\n\r\nAdye kostutti taas huuliaan. H\xc3\xa4n hellitti katseensa revolverin\r\npiipusta ja n\xc3\xa4ki kaukana meren hyvin sinisen\xc3\xa4 ja tummana keskip\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\r\nauringon paisteessa, tasaisen, vihre\xc3\xa4n nummen, vuoren valkoisen huipun\r\nja mahtavan kaupungin, ja \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4sitti, ett\xc3\xa4 el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oli hyvin\r\nsuloinen. H\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 kiintyiv\xc3\xa4t taas pieneen metalliesineeseen,\r\njoka riippui maan ja taivaan v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4, kuuden jalan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. "Mit\xc3\xa4 minun\r\non teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n synk\xc3\xa4sti.\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 _minun_ on teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4?" kysyi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies. "Te saatte apua.\r\nTeid\xc3\xa4n ei auta muu kuin menn\xc3\xa4 takaisin sis\xc3\xa4lle."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 koetan. Jos h\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minut sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, niin lupaatteko olla\r\nsy\xc3\xb6ksym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 ovelle?"\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4 halua riitaa teid\xc3\xa4n kanssanne", vastasi \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4ni.\r\n\r\nKemp oli kiiruhtanut yl\xc3\xa4kertaan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4stetty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Adyen ulos ja n\xc3\xa4ki nyt\r\nry\xc3\xb6miess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4rkyneiden lasinsirpaleiden seassa ja kurkistaessaan\r\nvarovasti ty\xc3\xb6huoneensa ikkunalaudan yli, ett\xc3\xa4 Adye seisoi\r\nkeskustelemassa n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n kanssa. "Miksei h\xc3\xa4n laukaise?" kuiskasi\r\nKemp itsekseen. Sitten liikahti revolveri v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, ja auringonvalon\r\nhohde v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti Kempin silmiss\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n varjosti silmi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja koetti n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4\r\nsokaisevan s\xc3\xa4teen suuntaan.\r\n\r\n"Totta vie", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Adye on luovuttanut revolverin."\r\n\r\n"Lupaatteko olla sy\xc3\xb6ksym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 ovelle?" sanoi Adye. "\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 menk\xc3\xb6 liian\r\npitk\xc3\xa4lle, vaikka olette voiton puolella. Antakaa toiselle jokin\r\nmahdollisuus."\r\n\r\n"Te menette takaisin taloon. Mill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ehdolla en lupaa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\nAdye n\xc3\xa4ytti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 tekev\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6ksens\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi taloon p\xc3\xa4in k\xc3\xa4vellen\r\nhitaasti k\xc3\xa4det sel\xc3\xa4n takana. Kemp katseli h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4llistyneen\xc3\xa4. Revolveri\r\nkatosi, v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti j\xc3\xa4lleen n\xc3\xa4kyviin ja ilmestyi l\xc3\xa4hemmin tarkastaessa\r\npienen\xc3\xa4 tummana esineen\xc3\xa4, joka liikkui Adyen per\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Sitten tapaukset\r\nseurasivat nopeasti toisiaan. Adye hyp\xc3\xa4hti taaksep\xc3\xa4in, py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4hti ymp\xc3\xa4ri,\r\ntavoitti pikku esinett\xc3\xa4 onnistumatta, nosti k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 ja kaatui eteenp\xc3\xa4in\r\nkasvoilleen, j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en ilmaan pienen sinisen savutuprun. Kemp ei kuullut\r\nlaukauksen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Adye v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntelehti, kohosi toisen k\xc3\xa4sivartensa nojaan,\r\nkaatui taas suulleen ja j\xc3\xa4i liikkumatta makaamaan.\r\n\r\nJonkin aikaa Kemp katseli Adyen rauhallisen velttoa asentoa. Iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\r\noli hyvin kuuma ja tyyni, ei mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muu n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4iritsev\xc3\xa4n\r\nhiljaisuutta kuin pari keltaista perhosta, jotka ajelivat toinen\r\ntoistaan pensaikossa talon ja maantiever\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4n v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4. Adye makasi\r\nnurmikolla l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 ver\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Kaikissa taloissa maalle johtavan tien\r\nkahden puolen oli ikkunankaihtimet vedetty eteen, mutta er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\npieness\xc3\xa4 vihre\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 huvimajassa n\xc3\xa4kyi jokin valkoinen olento,\r\nluultavasti vanha mies nukkumassa. Kemp t\xc3\xa4hysteli talon ymp\xc3\xa4ryst\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nn\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4kseen vilahdukselta revolverin, mutta se oli kadonnut. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 siirtyiv\xc3\xa4t j\xc3\xa4lleen Adyeen. Leikki oli totisesti alkanut.\r\n\r\nSilloin kuului ulko-ovelta kellonsoittoa ja koputusta, joka lopulta\r\nk\xc3\xa4vi rajuksi, mutta noudattaen Kempin ohjeita olivat palvelijat\r\nsulkeutuneet huoneisiinsa. Sit\xc3\xa4 seurasi hiljaisuus. Kemp istui ja\r\nkuunteli ja alkoi sitten varovasti kurkistella ulos kaikista kolmesta\r\nikkunasta per\xc3\xa4tysten. H\xc3\xa4n meni portaiden yl\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ja seisoi kuunnellen\r\nlevottomasti. H\xc3\xa4n otti aseekseen makuuhuoneen hiilihangon ja meni\r\ntaas tutkimaan alakerran ikkunoiden hakoja. Kaikki oli turvallista\r\nja rauhallista. H\xc3\xa4n palasi n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6torniin. Adye makasi liikkumatta\r\nhiekkak\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n reunalla samassa paikassa, johon oli kaatunut.\r\nPalvelijatar oli tulossa poliisin kanssa huviloiden ohi johtavaa tiet\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nKaikkialla oli kuolemanhiljaista. Nuo kolme ihmist\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nl\xc3\xa4hestyv\xc3\xa4n hyvin hitaasti. Kemp mietiskeli, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen vastustajansa\r\nnyt puuhasi.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4hti. Alhaalta kuului jym\xc3\xa4hdys. H\xc3\xa4n ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i ja meni taas\r\nalakertaan. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 alkoi talo kaikua voimakkaista iskuista ja puun\r\npirstoutumisesta. H\xc3\xa4n kuuli, ett\xc3\xa4 jokin l\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti, ja selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\nhelistettiin ikkunaluukkujen rautahakoja. H\xc3\xa4n kiersi avainta ja avasi\r\nkeitti\xc3\xb6n oven. Samassa lensiv\xc3\xa4t ikkunaluukut murskautuen ja s\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4lein\xc3\xa4\r\nsis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n seisoi s\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4htyneen\xc3\xa4. Ikkunan kehys, er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 poikkipuuta\r\nlukuunottamatta, oli viel\xc3\xa4 ehe\xc3\xa4, mutta vain pieni\xc3\xa4 lasis\xc3\xa4leit\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nyt kehykseen. Luukut oli ly\xc3\xb6ty sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kirveell\xc3\xa4 ja kirves putoili\r\nvoimakkain iskuin puitteisiin ja niit\xc3\xa4 tukeviin rautatankoihin. Sitten\r\nse \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 lensi syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja katosi.\r\n\r\nKemp n\xc3\xa4ki revolverin lojuvan ulkona polulla. Sitten tuo pikku ase\r\nlenn\xc3\xa4hti ilmaan. H\xc3\xa4n hyp\xc3\xa4hti syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Revolveri pamahti liian my\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nja viereisen oven nurkasta lensi s\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xb6 h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 yli. H\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4im\xc3\xa4ytti\r\noven kiinni ja lukitsi sen. Sen takana seistess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n kuuli Griffinin\r\nhuutavan ja nauravan. Sitten alkoi taas kuulua kirveeniskuja, joihin\r\nliittyi s\xc3\xa4rkymist\xc3\xa4 ja murskautumista.\r\n\r\nKemp seisoi k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 koettaen ajatella. Hetken kuluttua olisi\r\nN\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies keitti\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4. Sen ovi ei pid\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4isi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 hetke\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ja\r\nsitten...\r\n\r\nTaas kuului ulko-ovelta soittoa. Varmaankin siell\xc3\xa4 olivat poliisit. H\xc3\xa4n\r\njuoksi k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, nosti ketjua ja veti salvat syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4ski tyt\xc3\xb6n\r\npuhua, ennenkuin avasi ketjun, ja kolme ihmist\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6ksyi sis\xc3\xa4lle yhten\xc3\xa4\r\nrykelm\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, mink\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4lkeen Kemp taas kiskaisi oven kiinni. "N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n\r\nMies!" sanoi Kemp. "H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on revolveri, jossa on j\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4 kaksi\r\nluotia. H\xc3\xa4n on tappanut Adyen. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt jollakin tempulla ampumaan.\r\nEttek\xc3\xb6 n\xc3\xa4hnyt h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ruohokent\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4? H\xc3\xa4n makaa siell\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Kuka?" kysyi toinen poliisi.\r\n\r\n"Adye", vastasi Kemp.\r\n\r\n"Me tulimme takatiet\xc3\xa4", virkkoi tytt\xc3\xb6.\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4 tuo jym\xc3\xa4hdys oli?" kysyi toinen poliisi.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on keitti\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4 -- tai tulee pian. H\xc3\xa4n on l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt kirveen..."\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 alkoi koko talo kaikua N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen iskiess\xc3\xa4 kirveell\xc3\xa4\r\nkeitti\xc3\xb6n ovelle. Tytt\xc3\xb6 tuijotti keitti\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n p\xc3\xa4in ja astui ruokasaliin.\r\nKemp koetti selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tilannetta katkonaisin lausein. He kuulivat\r\nkeitti\xc3\xb6n oven murtuvan.\r\n\r\n"T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n kautta!" huusi Kemp ryhtyen hurjasti toimimaan ja ty\xc3\xb6nsi\r\npoliisit sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ruokasalin ovesta.\r\n\r\n"Hiilihanko!" sanoi Kemp ja hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si tuliristikon luo.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ojensi noutamansa hiilihangon toiselle poliisille ja ruokasalin\r\nhiilihangon toiselle.\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n heitt\xc3\xa4ytyi taaksep\xc3\xa4in. "Hup!" sanoi toinen poliisi,\r\nkoukistui ja tunsi kirveen t\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n hiilihankoonsa. Pistoolista lensi\r\nviimeisen edellinen luoti, joka rikkoi arvokkaan taulun. Toinen poliisi\r\nhuitaisi hiilihangolla pikku asetta kohti, samoin kuin n\xc3\xa4ps\xc3\xa4ytet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nampiainen alas, ja pudotti sen kalisten lattialle.\r\n\r\nEnsi kolahduksen kuullessaan tytt\xc3\xb6 kirkaisi ja seisoi jonkun aikaa\r\nkiljuen tulisijan vieress\xc3\xa4. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n juoksi avaamaan ikkunaluukkuja\r\n-- mahdollisesti aikoen l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 pakoon murskautuneiden ikkunoiden kautta.\r\n\r\nKirves per\xc3\xa4ytyi k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja j\xc3\xa4i noin kahden jalan korkeudelle maasta.\r\nHe voivat kuulla N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen hengityst\xc3\xa4. "V\xc3\xa4istyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 te kaksi\r\nmiest\xc3\xa4 syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", komensi h\xc3\xa4n. "Minulla on asiaa vain tuolle Kemp\r\nnimiselle."\r\n\r\n"Meill\xc3\xa4 on asiaa teille", vastasi toinen poliisi astuen nopeasti\r\neteenp\xc3\xa4in ja sivaltaen hiilihangollaan \xc3\x84\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies oli\r\nvarmaankin per\xc3\xa4ytynyt, ja nyt h\xc3\xa4n kolhaisi sateenvarjotelinett\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nKun poliisi oli kahden vaiheilla, pit\xc3\xa4en hiilihankoa valmiina, kuten\r\noli aikonut, l\xc3\xa4hestyi N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies kirves k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Poliisin kyp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nlitistyi kuin paperi ja isku lenn\xc3\xa4tti miehen vierim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n lattiaa pitkin,\r\nkeitti\xc3\xb6n portaiden yl\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nMutta toinen poliisi, joka t\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4si kirveen taakse hiilihangollaan, sai\r\nisketyksi johonkin pehme\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, joka naksahti. Kuului kova tuskanhuuto,\r\nja sitten kirves putosi lattialle. Poliisi sivalsi taas tyhjyyteen,\r\nmutta ei osunut mihink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n laski jalkansa kirveelle ja iski taas.\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4i seisomaan hiilihanko koholla ja kuunteli j\xc3\xa4nnittyneen\xc3\xa4\r\npienint\xc3\xa4kin liikahdusta.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kuuli, ett\xc3\xa4 ruokasalin ikkuna aukeni ja joku siell\xc3\xa4 juoksi\r\nkiireesti. H\xc3\xa4nen toverinsa kier\xc3\xa4hti ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja nousi istumaan, veren\r\nvirratessa h\xc3\xa4nen toisen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja korvansa v\xc3\xa4list\xc3\xa4. "Miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on?"\r\nkysyi lattialla istuva mies.\r\n\r\n"En tied\xc3\xa4. Osasin h\xc3\xa4neen. H\xc3\xa4n seisoo jossakin eteisen puolella, jollei\r\nole pujahtanut ohitsesi. Tohtori Kemp -- kuulkaapa, herra!"\r\n\r\n"Tohtori Kemp!" huusi poliisi taas.\r\n\r\nToinen poliisi alkoi v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4yty\xc3\xa4 pystyyn. H\xc3\xa4n nousi seisomaan. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4\r\nkuului keitti\xc3\xb6n portaista hiljaista paljaiden jalkojen sipsutusta.\r\n"Hei!" huusi toinen poliisi ja lenn\xc3\xa4tti sinne hiilihankonsa. Se s\xc3\xa4rki\r\npienen kaasuhanan.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytti aikovan seurata N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 Miest\xc3\xa4 alakertaan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmuutti mielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja l\xc3\xa4hti ruokasaliin.\r\n\r\n"Tohtori Kemp..." aloitti h\xc3\xa4n ja j\xc3\xa4tti kesken.\r\n\r\n"Tohtori Kemp on sankari", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n toverinsa katsoessa h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nolkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 yli.\r\n\r\nRuokahuoneen ikkuna oli selkosel\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, eik\xc3\xa4 Kempi\xc3\xa4 tai palvelijatarta\r\nn\xc3\xa4kynyt miss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nToisen poliisin k\xc3\xa4sitys Kempist\xc3\xa4 oli t\xc3\xa4sm\xc3\xa4llinen ja el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nKAHDEKSASKOLMATTA LUKU\r\n\r\nVainooja vainottavana\r\n\r\n\r\nHerra Heelas, tohtori Kempin l\xc3\xa4hin naapuri huvilanomistajain joukossa,\r\nnukkui huvimajassaan silloin kun Kempin talon piiritys alkoi. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nkuului siihen jykev\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n enemmist\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n, joka ei tahtonut uskoa "koko\r\nhassutukseen" N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Miehest\xc3\xa4. Mutta h\xc3\xa4nen vaimonsa uskoi,\r\nkuten h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4lkeenp\xc3\xa4in sai huomata. H\xc3\xa4n tahtoi v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4vell\xc3\xa4\r\npuutarhassaan, ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin ei mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n erikoista olisi uhkaamassa, ja\r\niltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n meni nukkumaan, niinkuin ainakin oli h\xc3\xa4nen tapanaan\r\nt\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n vuodenaikaan. H\xc3\xa4n nukkui kaiken sen aikaa, jolloin ikkunoita\r\ns\xc3\xa4rjettiin, ja her\xc3\xa4si sitten \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n omituinen usko, ett\xc3\xa4\r\njokin oli hullusti. H\xc3\xa4n katsahti Kempin taloon p\xc3\xa4in, hieroi silmi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nja katsoi taas. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n laski jalkansa lattialle ja kuunteli. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nv\xc3\xa4itti olevansa noiduttu, mutta outo ilmi\xc3\xb6 pysyi yh\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyviss\xc3\xa4. Talo\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti silt\xc3\xa4 kuin se olisi hylj\xc3\xa4tty viikkokausiksi -- hirve\xc3\xa4n metelin\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeen. Kaikki ikkunat olivat rikki ja n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6tornin ty\xc3\xb6huoneen ikkunaa\r\nlukuunottamatta sis\xc3\xa4puolisten luukkujen peitossa.\r\n\r\n"Voisin vannoa, ett\xc3\xa4 kaikki oli kunnossa", mutisi h\xc3\xa4n ja vilkaisi\r\nkelloonsa, "kaksikymment\xc3\xa4 minuuttia sitten".\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kuuli tahdikasta jys\xc3\xa4htely\xc3\xa4 ja lasin helin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 matkan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4. Ja\r\nsitten, h\xc3\xa4nen istuessaan suu auki, tuli viel\xc3\xa4kin ihmeellisemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\nRuokasalin ikkunaluukut lensiv\xc3\xa4t rajusti auki, ja hattup\xc3\xa4inen\r\npalvelustytt\xc3\xb6 ilmestyi hurjasti tempomaan ikkunanpuoliskoa. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 tuli\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen rinnalleen mies auttamaan. Se oli tohtori Kemp! Pian aukenikin\r\nikkuna, ja palvelijatar rimpuili sielt\xc3\xa4 ulos, sy\xc3\xb6ksyen eteenp\xc3\xa4in\r\nja kadoten pensaikkoon. Herra Heelas nousi seisomaan, huudahtaen\r\nep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti ja kiivaasti n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 ihmeellisist\xc3\xa4 asioista ymm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4ki Kempin seisovan ikkunalaudalla, hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n maahan ja melkein\r\nheti taas ilmestyv\xc3\xa4n juoksemassa pitkin pensaikossa kulkevaa polkua\r\nhyvin kumarassa ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin huomiota v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen. H\xc3\xa4n katosi er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nlaburnum-pensaan taakse ja tuli j\xc3\xa4lleen n\xc3\xa4kyviin kapuamassa aukeata\r\nhiekkanummea rajoittavan aidan yli. Sekunnissa h\xc3\xa4n oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt sen yli\r\nja juoksi rinnett\xc3\xa4 alas Heelasia kohti hirve\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vauhtia.\r\n\r\n"Hitto vie!" huudahti Heelas, jonka mieleen \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 juolahti er\xc3\xa4s ajatus.\r\n"Nyt on liikkeell\xc3\xa4 se peto, N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies! Kaikki on sittenkin totta!"\r\n\r\nKun Heelas ajatteli t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 lailla, ryhtyi h\xc3\xa4n my\xc3\xb6s senmukaisiin\r\ntoimiin. H\xc3\xa4nen kokkinsa, joka t\xc3\xa4hysteli ullakkokerroksen ikkunasta,\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styi huomatessaan tohtori Kempin laukkaavan taloa kohti noin\r\ntusinan kilometrin nopeudella tunnissa. Nyt kuului ovien pauketta,\r\nkellojen soittoa ja Heelasin \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni mylvim\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kuin h\xc3\xa4rk\xc3\xa4. "Sulkekaa\r\novet, sulkekaa ikkunat, sulkekaa kaikki -- N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies tulee!" Heti\r\nkajahteli talossa huutoja ja k\xc3\xa4skyj\xc3\xa4 ja kiireisten askelten kopinaa.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n juoksi itse sulkemaan kuistille aukenevan lasioven. Silloin\r\nilmestyiv\xc3\xa4t Kempin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja hartiat ja polvi puutarhan aidan yl\xc3\xa4puolelle.\r\nPian sitten Kemp oli raivannut itselleen tien parsalavojen poikki ja\r\njuoksi tenniskent\xc3\xa4n yli taloa kohti.\r\n\r\n"Ette voi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", sanoi Heelas sulkien teljet. "Olen hyvin\r\npahoillani, jos h\xc3\xa4n ajaa teit\xc3\xa4 takaa -- mutta ette voi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n!"\r\n\r\nKempin kauhistuneet kasvot ilmestyiv\xc3\xa4t ihan lasin taakse; h\xc3\xa4n koputti\r\nja ravisti hurjasti ovea. Huomattuaan ponnistuksensa turhiksi h\xc3\xa4n\r\njuoksi kuistia pitkin, hypp\xc3\xa4si sen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 maahan ja meni jyskytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsivuovelle. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n juoksi syrj\xc3\xa4portista talon etupuolelle ja siit\xc3\xa4\r\nm\xc3\xa4kitielle. Heelas, jonka kauhistuneet kasvot n\xc3\xa4kyiv\xc3\xa4t ikkunassa\r\nkatselemassa, oli tuskin todennut Kempin kadonneen, kun n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4t\r\njalat survoivat parsaruohoja sinne t\xc3\xa4nne. Silloin Heelas pakeni\r\nkiireesti yl\xc3\xa4kertaan eik\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4hnyt takaa-ajon loppuvaiheita. Mutta\r\nkulkiessaan porrask\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n ikkunan ohi h\xc3\xa4n kuuli viel\xc3\xa4 syrj\xc3\xa4portin\r\npaukahtavan.\r\n\r\nP\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n m\xc3\xa4kitielle Kemp l\xc3\xa4hti tietysti alasp\xc3\xa4in ja joutui siis itse\r\nsuorittamaan saman kilpajuoksun, jota oli vain nelj\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 sitten niin\r\narvostelevasti katsellut n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6torninsa ty\xc3\xb6huoneen ikkunasta. H\xc3\xa4n juoksi\r\noikein hyvin, kun ottaa lukuun, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli harjaantumaton, ja vaikka\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa olivatkin kalpeat ja kosteat, pysyi h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4rkens\xc3\xa4 koko\r\najan viile\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n laukkasi pitkin harppauksin, ja miss\xc3\xa4 tahansa tuli\r\neteen kaistale karkeaa maata tai ter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4syrj\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 kivi\xc3\xa4 tai kiilt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\r\nlasisiru, kulki h\xc3\xa4n sen poikki ja antoi takaa-ajavien paljaiden\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mien jalkojen tulla mink\xc3\xa4 kautta halusivat.\r\n\r\nEnsimm\xc3\xa4isen kerran el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Kemp huomasi, ett\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xa4elle johtava tie oli\r\nkuvaamattoman autio ja tyhj\xc3\xa4 ja ett\xc3\xa4 alhaalla kukkulan juurella oleva\r\nkaupunki alkoi vasta kummallisen kaukana. Mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei ollut tuntunut\r\nhitaammalta ja vaivaloisemmalta etenemistavalta kuin juokseminen.\r\nKaikki pikku huvilat, jotka nukkuivat iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4auringossa, n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nlukituilta ja teljetyilt\xc3\xa4. Ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 ne oli lukittu ja teljetty\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen omien m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ystens\xc3\xa4 mukaan, mutta olisihan niiss\xc3\xa4 kuitenkin\r\nsaanut olla t\xc3\xa4hyst\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4llaisten tapausten varalta! Kaupunki alkoi nyt\r\nkohota, meri oli vaipunut n\xc3\xa4kyvist\xc3\xa4 sen taakse, ja alhaalla liikkui\r\nihmisi\xc3\xa4. Er\xc3\xa4s raitiovaunu saapui juuri kukkulan juurelle. Sen takana\r\noli poliisiasema. Olivatko ne askelia, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n kuuli takaansa?\r\nLoppupinnistys!\r\n\r\nAlhaalla ihmiset tuijottivat h\xc3\xa4neen, pari kolme l\xc3\xa4hti juoksemaan, ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen hengityksens\xc3\xa4 alkoi korista kurkussa. Nyt oli raitiovaunu ihan\r\nl\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4, ja "Hauskoissa Kriketinpelaajissa" suljettiin meluten ovia.\r\nRaitiovaunun takana oli p\xc3\xb6lkkyj\xc3\xa4 ja hiekkakasa -- siell\xc3\xa4 kaivettiin\r\nojaa. H\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4 juolahti hetkeksi ajatus hyp\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 raitiovaunuun\r\nja l\xc3\xa4im\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ovet kiinni. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 poliisiasemalle.\r\nSeuraavalla hetkell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n sivuutti "Hauskojen Kriketinpelaajien" oven\r\nja joutui kadun umpip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ihmisten keskelle. Raitiovaunun ajaja\r\napulaisineen tuijotti h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4 moisesta hirve\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 kiireest\xc3\xa4,\r\nhevosten seisoessa irrallaan. Edemp\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyi hiekkakasojen takaa\r\nty\xc3\xb6miesten kummastelevia naamoja.\r\n\r\nKempin vauhti hiljeni v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, ja sitten h\xc3\xa4n kuuli takaa-ajajansa\r\nnopeat askeleet ja rynt\xc3\xa4si taas eteenp\xc3\xa4in. "N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies!" huusi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n ty\xc3\xb6miehille tehden ep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4isen viittauksen k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sai uuden\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4npiston ja loikkasi kaivannon yli, joten h\xc3\xa4nen ja takaa-ajajan\r\nv\xc3\xa4lille j\xc3\xa4i meluava joukko. Luopuen sitten ajatuksestaan pyrki\xc3\xa4\r\npoliisiasemalle h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi pienelle syrj\xc3\xa4kadulle, sy\xc3\xb6ksyi er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nvihanneskauppiaan rattaitten ohi, ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i kymmenesosan sekuntia\r\nmakeiskauppiaan myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n ovella ja l\xc3\xa4hti sitten pyyh\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nlehtokujalle p\xc3\xa4in, jota pitkin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si takaisin kukkulalle viev\xc3\xa4lle\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kadulle. Pari kolme pient\xc3\xa4 lasta leikki siell\xc3\xa4; ne kirkaisivat\r\nja hajaantuivat eri suuntiin h\xc3\xa4net n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Samassa aukeni ovia\r\nja ikkunoita ja kiihtyneet \xc3\xa4idit ilmaisivat mielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Taas h\xc3\xa4n\r\nrynnisti kukkulalle p\xc3\xa4in kolmen sadan metrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 raitiotielinjan\r\nloppupisteest\xc3\xa4, ja kohta kuului h\xc3\xa4nen korviinsa hurjaa meteli\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nihmisten juoksemista.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vilkaisi pitkin katua kukkulaa kohti. Kymmenkunnan metrin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\njuoksi roteva ty\xc3\xb6mies kiroten katkonaisesti ja huitoen silmitt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4sti\r\nlapiolla, ja ihan h\xc3\xa4nen takanaan tuli raitiovaunun kuljettaja k\xc3\xa4det\r\nnyrkkiin puristettuina. Toiset seurasivat n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 kahta ly\xc3\xb6den ja\r\nhuutaen. Alasp\xc3\xa4in kaupunkia kohti juoksi miehi\xc3\xa4 ja naisia, ja Kemp\r\nn\xc3\xa4ki selv\xc3\xa4sti er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n miehen tulevan ulos myym\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4n ovesta keppi k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4.\r\n"Hajaantukaa! Hajaantukaa!" huusi joku. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 Kemp k\xc3\xa4sitti, ett\xc3\xa4\r\ntakaa-ajo oli joutunut uuteen vaiheeseen. H\xc3\xa4n pys\xc3\xa4htyi ja katseli\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en. "H\xc3\xa4n on t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4!" huusi h\xc3\xa4n. "Pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nj\xc3\xa4rjesty\xc3\xa4..."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n sai kovan iskun korvansa alle ja keikahti pahasti, koettaen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nty\xc3\xa4\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 vastustajaansa kohti. H\xc3\xa4nen onnistui pysytell\xc3\xa4 jaloillaan,\r\nja h\xc3\xa4n huitaisi k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tyhj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ilmaan. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n taas sai iskun\r\nleukansa alle ja sy\xc3\xb6ksyi suinp\xc3\xa4in maahan. Samassa iski polvi h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nrintansa alle, ja pari k\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 tarttui kiihke\xc3\xa4sti h\xc3\xa4nen kurkkuunsa, mutta\r\ntoisen ote oli heikompi kuin toisen. H\xc3\xa4n tarttui ranteisiin, kuuli\r\ntuskanhuudon ahdistajansa suusta, ja silloin suhahti ty\xc3\xb6miehen lapio\r\nilman l\xc3\xa4pi h\xc3\xa4nen yl\xc3\xa4puolellaan ja iski johonkin, niin ett\xc3\xa4 kuului kumea\r\njys\xc3\xa4hdys. Samassa h\xc3\xa4n tunsi jotakin m\xc3\xa4rk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tipahtavan kasvoilleen.\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 heltisi ote h\xc3\xa4nen kurkustaan, ja vimmatusti ponnistaen Kemp\r\nirroitti itsens\xc3\xa4, tarttui rampautuneeseen olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ja kier\xc3\xa4hti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle\r\np\xc3\xa4in. H\xc3\xa4n sai k\xc3\xa4siins\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4helle maata j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neet n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4t kyyn\xc3\xa4rp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t.\r\n"Nyt sain h\xc3\xa4net kiinni!" huusi Kemp. "Auttakaa, auttakaa -- pit\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nkiinni! H\xc3\xa4n on maassa. Tarttukaa h\xc3\xa4nen jalkoihinsa!"\r\n\r\nSamassa hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si monta ihmist\xc3\xa4 yhtaikaa tappelupaikalle, ja vieras,\r\njoka olisi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ilmestynyt tielle, olisi voinut ajatella, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nsuoritettiin tavattoman hurjaa jalkapallo-ottelua. Kempin huudon\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeen ei kuulunut en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kiljumista -- ainoastaan iskujen ja jalkojen\r\nt\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja raskasta hengityst\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSitten tuntui valtava ponnistus, ja N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies kompuroi seisaalle.\r\nKemp piti h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 kiinni edest\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4in kuin ajokoira hirvest\xc3\xa4, ja tusina\r\nk\xc3\xa4si\xc3\xa4 oli takertunut n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja kiskoi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Raitiovaunun\r\nkuljettaja sai h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kiinni niskasta ja laahasi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 taaksep\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\nTaas vaipui rimpuileva miesjoukko maahan. Luultavasti siin\xc3\xa4 potkittiin\r\nraivoisasti. Sitten kuului huikea huuto: "Armoa, armoa!" joka pian\r\nvaimeni tukehtuvaksi vaikerrukseksi.\r\n\r\n"Per\xc3\xa4ytyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, villityt!" huusi Kemp k\xc3\xa4he\xc3\xa4sti ja ty\xc3\xb6nsi rotevia miehi\xc3\xa4\r\nvoimakkaasti taaksep\xc3\xa4in. "H\xc3\xa4n on loukkaantunut, kuuletteko! V\xc3\xa4istyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\nLyhyen kahakan j\xc3\xa4lkeen tuli paikalle tilaa, ja sitten piiriss\xc3\xa4\r\nseisovat kiihtyneet miehet n\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t tohtorin polvillaan, kuten n\xc3\xa4ytti,\r\nviidentoista tuuman korkeudella ilmassa ja pitelev\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivarsia maata vasten. H\xc3\xa4nen takanaan puristi er\xc3\xa4s poliisi\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4 nilkkoja.\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 karkuun!" huusi iso ty\xc3\xb6mies pidellen k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nverentahraamaa lapiota, "h\xc3\xa4n vain teeskentelee".\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n ei teeskentele", vastasi tohtori kohottaen varovasti polveaan, "ja\r\nsit\xc3\xa4paitsi min\xc3\xa4 pid\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 kiinni". H\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa olivat saaneet\r\nruhjevammoja ja alkoivat jo k\xc3\xa4yd\xc3\xa4 punaisiksi. H\xc3\xa4n puhui samealla\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4, kun toisesta huulesta vuoti veri. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n irroitti toisen\r\nk\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 ja n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti tunnusteli vastustajansa kasvoja. "Suu on ihan\r\nm\xc3\xa4rk\xc3\xa4", virkkoi h\xc3\xa4n ja lis\xc3\xa4si hetken kuluttua: "Miesparka!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n nousi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ja polvistui sitten maahan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n olennon\r\nviereen. Siin\xc3\xa4 tuupittiin ja tyrkittiin, ja sitten kuului jalkojen\r\nt\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, kun uusia ihmisi\xc3\xa4 tuli yh\xc3\xa4 lis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n entist\xc3\xa4 tungosta.\r\nMiehi\xc3\xa4 tuli taloista. "Hauskojen Kriketinpelaajien" ovet olivat \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\nselkosel\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Hyvin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n puhuttiin. Kemp tunnusteli jotakin, mik\xc3\xa4\r\ntoisista n\xc3\xa4ytti tyhj\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 ilmalta. "H\xc3\xa4n ei hengit\xc3\xa4", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n ja lis\xc3\xa4si\r\nsitten: "Syd\xc3\xa4n ei kuulu en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sykkiv\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4nen kylkens\xc3\xa4 -- uh!"\r\n\r\nEr\xc3\xa4s vanha nainen, joka kurkisteli ison ty\xc3\xb6miehen kainalosta, kiljaisi\r\nkime\xc3\xa4sti: "Katsokaapas tuota!" ja ojensi ryppyisen sormensa. Jokainen\r\nhuomasi seuratessaan h\xc3\xa4nen sormensa suuntaa k\xc3\xa4den \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4riviivat heikkoina\r\nja l\xc3\xa4pikuultavina kuin lasia, niin ett\xc3\xa4 saattoi erottaa laskimot\r\nja valtimot ja luut ja hermot -- ramman ja velton k\xc3\xa4den. Se k\xc3\xa4vi\r\ntummemmaksi ja l\xc3\xa4pin\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi jo silloin, kun he siihen tuijottivat.\r\n\r\n"Ohoh!" huusi poliisi. "Tuossa n\xc3\xa4kyy h\xc3\xa4nen jalkansa!"\r\n\r\nJa niin jatkui omituinen n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4ksi lihaksi muuttumisen vaihe, alkaen\r\nk\xc3\xa4sist\xc3\xa4 ja jaloista ja hiipien hitaasti raajoja my\xc3\xb6ten ruumiin\r\nkeskiosiin asti. N\xc3\xa4ytti silt\xc3\xa4 kuin olisi myrkky hitaasti levinnyt.\r\nEnsin ilmestyiv\xc3\xa4t pienet valkeat suonet, jotka hahmottelivat\r\nj\xc3\xa4senen himme\xc3\xa4n harmaat ulkopiirteet, sitten lasimaiset luut ja\r\nmonimutkainen valtimoverkko, senj\xc3\xa4lkeen liha ja nahka, ensin\r\nheikkona ja sumuntapaisena, sitten nopeasti muuttuen tiiviiksi ja\r\nl\xc3\xa4pin\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi. Pian he saattoivat n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen murskautuneen\r\nrintansa ja hartiansa ja h\xc3\xa4nen v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneiden ja survottujen kasvojensa\r\nh\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4t \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4riviivat.\r\n\r\nKun joukko lopulta v\xc3\xa4istyi, niin ett\xc3\xa4 Kemp saattoi seisoa suorana,\r\nn\xc3\xa4kiv\xc3\xa4t he maassa makaavan alastomana ja s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 noin\r\nkolmikymmenvuotiaan nuoren miehen ruhjotun ja murskatun ruumiin. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\nhiuksensa ja kulmakarvansa olivat valkeat -- ei vanhuuttaan, vaan sen\r\nvuoksi, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli luonnottoman valkoverinen, ja h\xc3\xa4nen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nolivat granaatinv\xc3\xa4riset. K\xc3\xa4det olivat nyrkiss\xc3\xa4 ja silm\xc3\xa4t ihan auki.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen kasvoistaan ilmeni viha ja kauhu.\r\n\r\n"Peitt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa!" huusi er\xc3\xa4s mies. "Peitt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 Herran t\xc3\xa4hden\r\nnuo kasvot!"\r\n\r\nJoku toi lakanan "Hauskoista Kriketinpelaajista", ja siihen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rittyn\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4net kannettiin mainittuun taloon. Ja siell\xc3\xa4 kurjalla vuoteella,\r\nkirjavassa, huonosti valaistussa makuuhuoneessa, tiet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nkiihoittuneen ihmisjoukon ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6im\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, murskattuna ja haavoittuneena,\r\npetettyn\xc3\xa4 ja kenenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 Griffin, joka\r\nensimm\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 kaikista ihmisist\xc3\xa4 oli tehnyt itsens\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ksi,\r\nlahjakkain luonnontutkija, mit\xc3\xa4 maailma milloinkaan on n\xc3\xa4hnyt,\r\nsanomattoman viheli\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 omituisen ja hirve\xc3\xa4n uransa.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLOPPUHUOMAUTUS.\r\n\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4in p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyy kertomus N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n Miehen omituisesta ja ilke\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nkokeesta. Jos haluatte kuulla h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n, tarvitsee teid\xc3\xa4n menn\xc3\xa4\r\nPort Stowen l\xc3\xa4heiseen pikku ravintolaan ja puhutella sen is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\nIlmoituskilpen\xc3\xa4 siell\xc3\xa4 on tyhj\xc3\xa4 lauta, jossa on vain hatun ja\r\nsaappaitten kuva, ja sen nimi on sama kuin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4kin kertomuksella.\r\nIs\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 on lyhyt ja lihava pikku mies, jolla on lieri\xc3\xb6n muotoisena\r\nulkoneva nen\xc3\xa4, kankea tukka ja kasvot ep\xc3\xa4tasaisesti punertavat. Juokaa\r\nrunsaasti, ja silloin h\xc3\xa4n kertoo teille runsaasti kaikesta siit\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nelle tapahtui sen ajan j\xc3\xa4lkeen, ja kuinka lakimiehet koettivat\r\n"anastaa" h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 aarretta, joka h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 tavattiin.\r\n\r\n"Kun he sen keksiv\xc3\xa4t, eiv\xc3\xa4t he voineet n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 toteen, kenen rahoja\r\nne olivat. Hitto minut viek\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n", sanoo h\xc3\xa4n, "jolleiv\xc3\xa4t he koettaneet\r\nsaada minua kiinni aarteen luvattomasta tallettamisesta! _N\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xb6_\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 aarteen tallettajalta? Ja sitten er\xc3\xa4s herra antoi minulle muuanna\r\niltana punnan, jotta kertoisin tuon tarinan Soitannollisen Seuran\r\niltamassa -- ihan omin sanoin vain."\r\n\r\nJos haluatte \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 keskeytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen muistelmatulvansa, voitte sen\r\ntehd\xc3\xa4 milloin hyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 kysym\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, eik\xc3\xb6 kertomuksessa mainittu kolmea\r\nk\xc3\xa4sikirjoitusteosta. H\xc3\xa4n my\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 niin olleen ja alkaa selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vannoen\r\nja vakuuttaen, ett\xc3\xa4 jokainen luulee niiden olevan _h\xc3\xa4nen_ hallussaan.\r\nMutta, siunatkoon! Ei h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 niit\xc3\xa4 ole! "N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n Mies otti ne\r\nmukaansa piilottaakseen, kun min\xc3\xa4 pujahdin pois ja l\xc3\xa4hdin pyyh\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nPort Stoween p\xc3\xa4in. Herra Kemp vain on pannut ihmisten p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n sen\r\nluulon, ett\xc3\xa4 ne j\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4t _minulle_."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vaipuu mietteisiin, katselee teit\xc3\xa4 salavihkaa, puuhailee\r\nhermostuneesti laseja j\xc3\xa4rjestelem\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4htee pian pois\r\ntarjoiluhuoneesta.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n on vanhapoika -- h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on aina ollut vanhanpojan taipumuksia,\r\neik\xc3\xa4 koko talossa ole yht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n naista. Ulkonaisesti h\xc3\xa4n kyll\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nnappeja -- sit\xc3\xa4 vaatii yleinen tapa -- mutta yksityisemmiss\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4rkeiss\xc3\xa4\r\nkohdissa, esimerkiksi housujensa kannattamisessa, h\xc3\xa4n viel\xc3\xa4kin\r\nturvautuu nuoraan. H\xc3\xa4n hoitaa talouttaan ilman yritteli\xc3\xa4isyytt\xc3\xa4, mutta\r\nerinomaisen s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4dyllisesti. H\xc3\xa4nen liikkeens\xc3\xa4 ovat hitaat, ja h\xc3\xa4n on\r\nsuuri ajattelija. Kyl\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4iset pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 viisaana ja kunnioitettavan\r\ns\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 miehen\xc3\xa4, ja Etel\xc3\xa4-Englannin eri tiet h\xc3\xa4n tuntee paremmin\r\nkuin Cobbett.\r\n\r\nSunnuntaiaamuisin, joka sunnuntaiaamu ymp\xc3\xa4ri vuoden, kun h\xc3\xa4n on\r\nsulkeutunut ulkomaailmalta, ja joka ilta kymmenen j\xc3\xa4lkeen h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmenee ravintolan vierashuoneeseen, vieden mukanaan lasillisen\r\nkatajanmarjaviinaa, johon on sekoitettu v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n vett\xc3\xa4, ja pantuaan sen\r\np\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle lukitsee oven ja tutkii ikkunankaihtimet, kurkistaapa viel\xc3\xa4\r\np\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n allekin. Kun h\xc3\xa4n sitten on varma yksin\xc3\xa4isyydest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, avaa h\xc3\xa4n\r\nastiakaapin ja er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n siell\xc3\xa4 olevan laatikon sek\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n laatikon sis\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\nolevan lippaan, josta h\xc3\xa4n vet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 esille kolme ruskeisiin nahkakansiin\r\nsidottua kirjaa ja laskee ne juhlallisesti keskelle p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Kannet\r\novat kauhtuneet ja vivahtavat merenvihre\xc3\xa4lle, sill\xc3\xa4 kerran ne lojuivat\r\nojassa, ja muutamia sivuja on likainen vesi huuhtonut tyhjiksi. Is\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nistuutuu nojatuoliin ja t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 hitaasti pitk\xc3\xa4n savipiipun, silm\xc3\xa4illen\r\nsamalla kirjoja. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n ottaa yhden niist\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4siins\xc3\xa4 ja alkaa sit\xc3\xa4\r\ntutkia, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnellen lehti\xc3\xa4 taakse- ja eteenp\xc3\xa4in.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen kulmakarvansa ovat rypyss\xc3\xa4, ja huulet liikkuvat vaivaloisesti.\r\n"Ohhoh, pieni kakkonen korkealla ilmassa, risti ja tuollainen\r\njonninjoutava koukero. Voi hitto! Millainen \xc3\xa4lyniekka h\xc3\xa4n olikaan!"\r\n\r\nPian h\xc3\xa4n hellitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kirjan, nojautuu taaksep\xc3\xa4in ja katselee silmi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nr\xc3\xa4pytellen savun l\xc3\xa4pi huonetta pitkin sellaista, mit\xc3\xa4 toisten silm\xc3\xa4t\r\neiv\xc3\xa4t n\xc3\xa4e. "T\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 salaisuuksia", sanoo h\xc3\xa4n. "Ihmeellisi\xc3\xa4 salaisuuksia!\r\nKun kerran p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sen niihin k\xc3\xa4siksi -- voi hitto! Min\xc3\xa4 en tekisi, mit\xc3\xa4\r\n_h\xc3\xa4n_ teki! Min\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 vain -- no niin!"\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n imee piippuaan. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n vaipuu haaveilemaan el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nkuolematonta, ihmeellist\xc3\xa4 unelmaa. Ja vaikka Kemp on lakkaamatta\r\nudellut, ei ainoakaan ihmisolento, kapakoitsijaa lukuunottamatta,\r\ntied\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 nuo kirjat ovat siell\xc3\xa4, sulkien sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myyden\r\nnerokkaan salaisuuden ja tusinan verran muita salaisuuksia. Eik\xc3\xa4 kukaan\r\nmuu saa niit\xc3\xa4 tietoonsa ennen h\xc3\xa4nen kuolemaansa.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK N\xc3\x84KYM\xc3\x84T\xc3\x96N MIES ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Eräitä kertoelmia'

'Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Er\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 kertoelmia\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Er\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 kertoelmia\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: H. G. Wells\r\n\r\nRelease date: October 1, 2016 [eBook #53181]\r\n\r\nLanguage: Finnish\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ER\xc3\x84IT\xc3\x84 KERTOELMIA ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Tapio Riikonen\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nER\xc3\x84IT\xc3\x84 KERTOELMIA\r\n\r\nKirj.\r\n\r\nH. G. Wells\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nHelsingiss\xc3\xa4,\r\nVilho Vainio,\r\n1907.\r\n\r\nHelsingin Uusi Kirjapaino-Osakeyhti\xc3\xb6\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSIS\xc3\x84LLYS:\r\n\r\n Syvyydess\xc3\xa4.\r\n Gottfried Plattnerin tarina.\r\n Mustan miehen kosto.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSyvyydess\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n\r\nLuutnantti seisoi ter\xc3\xa4spallon \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4 pureksien m\xc3\xa4nnynlastua. "Mit\xc3\xa4\r\narvelette siit\xc3\xa4, Steevens?" kysyi h\xc3\xa4n. "Onpa siin\xc3\xa4 ajatus", sanoi\r\nSteevens avosyd\xc3\xa4misesti.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 luulen sen menev\xc3\xa4n lyttyyn -- l\xc3\xa4ts", sanoi luutnantti.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 jo laskeneen kaikki aivan tarkalleen", sanoi Steevens,\r\ntarttumatta viel\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n asiaan.\r\n\r\n"Mutta ajatelkaa toki painetta", sanoi luutnantti. "Veden pinnalla on\r\nnelj\xc3\xa4toista naulaa tuumalla, kolmekymment\xc3\xa4 jalkaa alempana kaksi kertaa\r\nniin paljo; kuusikymment\xc3\xa4, kolme; yhdeks\xc3\xa4nkymment\xc3\xa4, nelj\xc3\xa4 kertaa;\r\nyhdeks\xc3\xa4nsataa nelj\xc3\xa4kymment\xc3\xa4 kertaa; viisituhatta kolmesataa --\r\npeninkulma -- on kaksisataa nelj\xc3\xa4kymment\xc3\xa4 kertaa nelj\xc3\xa4toista naulaa; se\r\non -- odottakaas -- kolmekymment\xc3\xa4 sentneri\xc3\xa4 -- puolitoista tonnia,\r\nSteevens; puolitoista tonnia neli\xc3\xb6tuumalla. Ja valtameri, johon sen\r\ntulee sukeltaa, on viisi peninkulmaa syv\xc3\xa4. Siis seitsem\xc3\xa4n ja puoli --"\r\n\r\n"Tuntuuhan se", sanoi Steevens, "mutta on tuo ter\xc3\xa4skin aika paksua."\r\n\r\nLuutnantti ei vastannut, alkoi vaan j\xc3\xa4lleen pureksia m\xc3\xa4nnynlastua.\r\nHeid\xc3\xa4n keskustelunsa esine oli suuri ter\xc3\xa4spallo, jonka halkasija oli\r\nehk\xc3\xa4 yhdeks\xc3\xa4n jalkaa. Se n\xc3\xa4ytti j\xc3\xa4ttil\xc3\xa4ism\xc3\xa4iselt\xc3\xa4 tykinkuulalta. Se oli\r\nsijoitettu mukavasti hirve\xc3\xa4n suurille telineille laivan kokkapuolella\r\nja suunnattomat parrut, joitten piti auttaa sen veteen laskemista\r\ntekiv\xc3\xa4t laivan omituisen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6iseksi. Kahdessa kohden oli ter\xc3\xa4ksess\xc3\xa4\r\npari tavattoman paksulasista ikkunaa. Yksi niist\xc3\xa4, tavattoman paksuine\r\nter\xc3\xa4skehyksineen, oli ruuvattu puoleksi auki. Molemmat miehet olivat\r\nn\xc3\xa4hneet pallon sisustan t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 aamuna ensi kerran. Se oli mukavasti\r\nsisustettu, ilmapatjoja ylt\'ymp\xc3\xa4ri ja pullistuneitten tyynyjen v\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4\r\npieni\xc3\xa4 nappeja. Niist\xc3\xa4 hoidettiin laitoksen koneistoa. Kaikki oli\r\npeitetty pehme\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, yksin Myerin aparaattikin, jonka tuli ime\xc3\xa4 itseens\xc3\xa4\r\nhiilihappoa ja korvata laitoksen johtajan k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 happi, sitten kun\r\nh\xc3\xa4n kiipeisi sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tuosta miehenment\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ikkunanrei\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ja lasi\r\nruuvattaisiin kiinni.\r\n\r\nKoko laitos oli niin huolellisesti tyynytetty, ett\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 olisi voinut\r\nampua tykill\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 sis\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 olevalla olisi ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Ja niin\r\nsen pitikin, sill\xc3\xa4 jonkun tunnin kuluttua ry\xc3\xb6misi sinne tuosta\r\nlasinrei\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 mies, lasi ruuvattaisiin kiinni, pallo mereen ja sitten\r\nalasp\xc3\xa4in -- alasp\xc3\xa4in aina vaan, viisi peninkulmaa, kuten luutnantti\r\nsanoi. Se oli kiintynyt kovasti h\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4; se pani p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ihan\r\npy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4lle. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n tapasi Steevensin, \xc3\xa4sken laivalle tulleen, ja piti\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 sopivana keskustelutoverina. Asia alettiin aina alusta.\r\n\r\n"Mutta luulen", sanoi luutnantti, "ett\xc3\xa4 lasi aivan yksinkertaisesti\r\ntaipuu sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, murtuu ja menee m\xc3\xa4s\xc3\xa4ksi sellaisessa paineessa. On sit\xc3\xa4\r\nsaatu kivikin juoksemaan veten\xc3\xa4 kovan paineen alla -- ja huomatkaa mit\xc3\xa4\r\nsanoin."\r\n\r\n"Jos lasi murtuu", sanoi Steevens, "mit\xc3\xa4 sitten?"\r\n\r\n"Vesi sy\xc3\xb6ksyy sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuin rautasuihku. Oletteko koskaan saanut kokea\r\nkovapaineisen veden suihkua? Se kerrassaan musertaisi h\xc3\xa4net. Se\r\ntunkeutuisi h\xc3\xa4nen kurkkuunsa ja keuhkoihinsa, sy\xc3\xb6ksyisi korviin --"\r\n\r\n"Onpas Teill\xc3\xa4 seikkaper\xc3\xa4inen mielikuvitus!" arveli Steevens, joka n\xc3\xa4ki\r\nkaikki aivan el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti tapahtuvan.\r\n\r\n"V\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n todeksi havaitsemista vaan", sanoi luutnantti.\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4s pallo?"\r\n\r\n"Muutaman kuplan synnytt\xc3\xa4isi ja asettuisi mukavasti pohjaan\r\ntuomiop\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 odottelemaan, istuisi sinne liejuun ja pohjamutaan.\r\nElstead parka olisi vaan hajallaan halenneitten tyynyjens\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kuin\r\nvoi leiv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kertasi viime lauseensa. Se miellytti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 aivan n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti. "Kuin\r\nvoi leiv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4." "Luukkuako tarkastellaan?" kuului \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni kysyv\xc3\xa4n. Elstead\r\nsiell\xc3\xa4 seisoi heid\xc3\xa4n takanaan valkoseen puettuna kiireest\xc3\xa4 kantap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n.\r\nPaperossi oli h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 hampaissa ja silm\xc3\xa4t hymyiliv\xc3\xa4t leve\xc3\xa4n hatunreunan\r\nalta. "Mit\xc3\xa4 Te voista ja leiv\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 juttuatte, Weybridge? Taasko moititte\r\nmeriupseerien riitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 palkkaa? Minulla ei ole en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuin yksi\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6ni. Saamme k\xc3\xb6ydet t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuntoon. Nuo harvat pilven\r\nhattarat ja kevyt aallonk\xc3\xa4ynti sopivat juuri mainiosti, kun t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nheitet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tusinan verta tonneja lyijy\xc3\xa4 ja rautaa mereen, eik\xc3\xb6 niin?"\r\n\r\n"Ei ne Teit\xc3\xa4 juuri h\xc3\xa4iritse", sanoi Weybridge.\r\n\r\n"Ei. Seitsem\xc3\xa4n -- kahdeksankymmenen jalan syvyydess\xc3\xa4 ei ole liikett\xc3\xa4\r\nlainkaan ja sinne min\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sen kahdessatoista sekunnissa. Antaa sitten\r\ntuulen ulvoa itsens\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4he\xc3\xa4ksi t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 pinnalla ja veden nousta vaikka\r\nyli pilvien. Ei. Tuolla alhaalla on --." H\xc3\xa4n siirtyi laivan syrj\xc3\xa4lle.\r\nToiset tulivat per\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Kaikki kolme kumartuivat eteenp\xc3\xa4in ja\r\ntuijottivat vihre\xc3\xa4nkeltaiseen veteen.\r\n\r\n"_Rauha_", sanoi Elstead, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en lauseensa.\r\n\r\n"Oletteko vallan varma, ett\xc3\xa4 kellolaitos tekee teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4?" kysyi\r\nWeybridge.\r\n\r\n"Se on toiminut kolmekymment\xc3\xa4 viisi tuntia", sanoi Elstead. "Toimimaan\r\nse on tehtykin."\r\n\r\n"Mutta jos se ei toimisi?"\r\n\r\n"Miksei se sit\xc3\xa4 tekisi?"\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4 menisi mereen tuossa kirotussa kapineessa", sanoi Weybridge,\r\n"en, vaikka tarjottaisiin kaksisataatuhatta puntaa."\r\n\r\n"Olettepa arka poika", sanoi Elstead ja sylk\xc3\xa4si tuttavallisesti alas\r\nveteen.\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4 vain ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4, miten Te aijotte tuota laitosta k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", sanoi\r\nSteevens.\r\n\r\n"Ensinn\xc3\xa4kin, minut ruuvataan palloon", sanoi Elstead, "ja kun min\xc3\xa4 olen\r\nsytytt\xc3\xa4nyt ja sammuttanut s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6valon kolmeen kertaan n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseni, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nolen kunnossa, heitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tuo nostolaitos minut mereen ja kaikki nuo\r\nraskaat lyijypainot tulevat per\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4. Suurimmassa lyijypainossa on\r\nrulla, jolla on sata sylt\xc3\xa4 lujaa k\xc3\xb6ytt\xc3\xa4, ja muuta yhdist\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ei\r\npainoilla ja pallolla olekaan paitsi siteit\xc3\xa4, jotka katkaistaan\r\nl\xc3\xa4hdett\xc3\xa4iss\xc3\xa4. On parempi k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xb6ytt\xc3\xa4 kuin monikertaista\r\nmetallilankaa. Se katkee helpommin ja on taipuisampaa -- t\xc3\xa4rkeit\xc3\xa4\r\nasioita, kuten kohta havaitsette."\r\n\r\n"Jokaisessa lyijypainossa n\xc3\xa4ette reij\xc3\xa4n, sen l\xc3\xa4pi juoksee rautainen\r\nkanki, tullen noin kuusi jalkaa ulos alapuolelta. Jos tuo kanki kohoaa,\r\nnostaa se vivun ja panee k\xc3\xa4yntiin kellolaitoksen siin\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 lieri\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4,\r\njolle k\xc3\xb6ysi kiertyy."\r\n\r\n"No niin. Koko laitos lasketaan koreasti veteen ja siteet katkaistaan.\r\nPallo ui -- siin\xc3\xa4 on ilmaa, se on vett\xc3\xa4 keve\xc3\xa4mpi -- mutta lyijypainot\r\nputoavat heti alas ja k\xc3\xb6ysi juoksee. Kun k\xc3\xb6ysi on aivan suora l\xc3\xa4htee\r\npallokin sen vet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 alasp\xc3\xa4in."\r\n\r\n"Mutta miksi Te k\xc3\xb6yden laitoitte?" kysyi Steevens. "Miksette\r\nkiinnitt\xc3\xa4nyt painoja suoraan palloon?"\r\n\r\n"Pohjaan kolahtamisen t\xc3\xa4hden. Koko laitos menee alas hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kyyti\xc3\xa4,\r\npeninkulman toisensa j\xc3\xa4lkeen, viimein on vauhti aivan tavaton. Se\r\npirstaantuisi pohjaa vasten, ellei t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xb6ytt\xc3\xa4 olisi. Nyt iskev\xc3\xa4t\r\npainot pohjaan. Heti kun ne sen ovat tehneet, tulee pallon uintikyky\r\nkysymykseen. Se kulkee pohjaa kohti yh\xc3\xa4 hitaammin, seisahtuu vihdoin ja\r\nalkaa uida taas yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in."\r\n\r\n"Nyt tulee kellolaitos kysymykseen. Heti kun painot puskevat pohjaan,\r\nluistaa kanki l\xc3\xa4pi ja panee kellolaitoksen k\xc3\xa4yntiin. K\xc3\xb6ysi kiertyy\r\nj\xc3\xa4lleen rullalleen. Min\xc3\xa4 laskeudun siten pohjalle. Siell\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 sitten\r\nviivyn puoli tuntia, sytyt\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6n ja katselen ymp\xc3\xa4rilleni. Sitten\r\nkellolaitos naksauttaa taittoveitsen, k\xc3\xb6ysi katkee ja min\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6ksyn\r\nj\xc3\xa4lleen yl\xc3\xb6s kuin soodavesikupla. K\xc3\xb6ysikin auttaa vaan."\r\n\r\n"Ent\xc3\xa4 jos sattuisitte laivan kohdalle?" kys\xc3\xa4si Weybridge.\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 tulisin sellaista vauhtia, ett\xc3\xa4 menisin koreasti sen l\xc3\xa4pi", sanoi\r\nElstead, "menisin kuin tykin luoti. Ei Teid\xc3\xa4n siit\xc3\xa4 tarvitse olla\r\nhuolissanne."\r\n\r\n"Otaksukaamme, ett\xc3\xa4 joku v\xc3\xa4kev\xc3\xa4 rapuel\xc3\xa4in kietoutuisi\r\nkellolaitokseenne."\r\n\r\n"Se olisi minulle kiireellinen kehoitus pys\xc3\xa4hty\xc3\xa4", sanoi Elstead,\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyen katselemaan palloa.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nKello yhdentoista tienoissa oli Elstead heitetty mereen. P\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nselke\xc3\xa4n kirkas ja tyyni, taivaanrannalla oli sumua. S\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6valo tuikahti\r\niloisesti kolme kertaa pieness\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xa4-osastossa. Sitten he laskivat h\xc3\xa4net\r\nhitaasti veden pintaan ja kokkak\xc3\xb6ysill\xc3\xa4 seisova mies oli valmiina\r\nleikkaamaan poikki palloa ja painoja yhdist\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t siteet. Pallo, joka\r\nkannella oli n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt niin isolta, oli mit\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n pienen n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen\r\ntullessaan laivan keulan alle. Se keikkui hiukan ja sen kaksi tummaa\r\nikkunaa, jotka olivat yl\xc3\xa4puolella, n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t ihmetellen katselevan\r\nlaivan reunalla tunkeilevaa v\xc3\xa4ke\xc3\xa4. Er\xc3\xa4s \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni ihmetteli, milt\xc3\xa4\r\nElsteadista tuo keikkuminen tuntuu.\r\n\r\n"Oletteko valmiit?" kuului kapteeni huutavan.\r\n\r\n"Ollaan, ollaan, sir!"\r\n\r\n"Antaa sitten menn\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\nK\xc3\xb6ydet katkaistiin, py\xc3\xb6rre myllersi pallon ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4 avuttoman\r\nhauskasti. Katsojista joku heilutti nen\xc3\xa4liinaansa, joku koetti huutaa\r\nja er\xc3\xa4s kadetti laski hitaasti, "kahdeksan, yhdeks\xc3\xa4n, kymmenen!" Viel\xc3\xa4\r\nkeikahdus ja koko laitos suoristui \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSe n\xc3\xa4ytti j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n hetkeksi paikoilleen ja pienenev\xc3\xa4n nopeasti. Sitten\r\nvesi sen nielasi, se n\xc3\xa4kyi viel\xc3\xa4 pinnan alla, heijastuksen\r\nsuurentamana. Ennenkuin ehti kolmeen laskea, oli se kadonnut. L\xc3\xa4ikett\xc3\xa4\r\nja kirkkaita aaltoja j\xc3\xa4i viel\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4lkeen. Nekin pieneniv\xc3\xa4t ja h\xc3\xa4ipyiv\xc3\xa4t.\r\nSitten ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt muuta kuin syv\xc3\xa4 vesi, joka alempana n\xc3\xa4ytti aivan\r\nmustalta. Siell\xc3\xa4 uiskenteli hai.\r\n\r\nSitten alkoi risteilij\xc3\xa4 liikkua, vesi myllertyi, hai katosi,\r\nvaahtovirta ry\xc3\xb6ps\xc3\xa4hti yli tuon kristallikirkkaan syvyyden, joka oli\r\nniellyt Elsteadin. "Mik\xc3\xa4 on tarkotuksena?" kysyi er\xc3\xa4s merimies\r\ntoveriltaan.\r\n\r\n"Me asetumme muutaman peninkulman p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n, ettei h\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xb6s tullessaan\r\npuske meihin", vastasi toinen.\r\n\r\nAlus kulki hitaasti uuteen paikkaansa. Sen kannella katseli joka-ainoa,\r\njoka oli jouten, tuota keinuvaa syvyytt\xc3\xa4, jonne pallo oli uponnut.\r\nEnsim\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 puolena tuntina puhuttiin tuskin yht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sanaa, joka ei\r\nolisi koskenut Elsteadia. Joulukuun aurinko oli nyt korkealla ja\r\nkuumuus melkoinen.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4nen on jokseenkin viile\xc3\xa4 tuolla alhaalla", sanoi Weybridge.\r\n"Sanotaan, ett\xc3\xa4 jossain m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4tyss\xc3\xa4 syvyydess\xc3\xa4 merivesi on aina\r\nj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tym\xc3\xa4isill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n."\r\n\r\n"Mist\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tulee yl\xc3\xb6s?" kysyi Steevens. "Minulta on suunta kateissa."\r\n\r\n"Tuolta noin", sanoi kapteeni, joka ylpeili kaikkitiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4isyydest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ojensi sormen suoraan kaakkoon. "Ja nyt on luullakseni oikea\r\naikakin", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "H\xc3\xa4n on ollut kolmekymment\xc3\xa4 viisi minuttia."\r\n\r\n"Pitk\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 aika menee, ennenkuin ehtii valtameren pohjaan?" kysyi\r\nSteevens.\r\n\r\n"Viiden peninkulman syvyyteen ja laskien -- kuten teimme -- nopeuden\r\nlis\xc3\xa4yksen kahdeksi jalaksi sekunnilta, menee menoon ja paluuseen noin\r\nkolme nelj\xc3\xa4nnesminuttia."\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on siis jo ollut liiankin kauvan", sanoi Weybridge.\r\n\r\n"Melkeinp\xc3\xa4", sanoi kapteeni. "Min\xc3\xa4 otaksun kuluvan muutamia minutteja\r\ntuon k\xc3\xb6yden kiert\xc3\xa4miseen."\r\n\r\n"Sit\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 en muistanut", sanoi Weybridge, silminn\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti elostuen.\r\n\r\nNyt alkoi odotus. Minutti kului hitaasti eik\xc3\xa4 palloa n\xc3\xa4kynyt. Toinen\r\nmeni eik\xc3\xa4 mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4rkenyt hiljaisten laineitten liikuntoa. Merimiehet\r\nselittiv\xc3\xa4t toisilleen tuota k\xc3\xb6yden kiert\xc3\xa4misjuttua. Laivan reuna oli\r\nt\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 odottavia kasvoja. "Tule yl\xc3\xb6s Elstead!" huusi er\xc3\xa4s partaposkinen\r\nmerikarhu k\xc3\xa4rsim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4. Toiset yhtyiv\xc3\xa4t ja huusivat, kuin olisivat\r\nolleet teatterissa esiripun nousua odottamassa.\r\n\r\nKapteeni katseli heit\xc3\xa4 ivallisesti.\r\n\r\n"Jos nopeuden lis\xc3\xa4ys on kahta pienempi, niin h\xc3\xa4n tietysti viipyy\r\nkauvemmin", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Me emme varmaan tienneet, oliko kaava oikea. En\r\nmin\xc3\xa4 ole mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n orjamainen laskennon ihailija."\r\n\r\nSteevens yhtyi h\xc3\xa4neen. Per\xc3\xa4kannella ei puhuttu mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muutamaan\r\nminuttiin. Sitten kuului Steevensin kellon kuori naksahtavan.\r\n\r\nKun aurinko kaksikymment\xc3\xa4 yksi minuttia my\xc3\xb6hemmin oli laskeutunut\r\ntaivaanrannalle, odottivat he yh\xc3\xa4 pallon tuloa eik\xc3\xa4 yksik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kannella\r\nollut uskaltanut kuiskatakaan, ettei toivoa en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ollut. Weybridge\r\nensim\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 lausui sen. Yhdentoista-ly\xc3\xb6ntien viel\xc3\xa4 ilmassa uidessa\r\nsanoi h\xc3\xa4n aivan \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 Steevensille: "Min\xc3\xa4 ep\xc3\xa4ilin aina tuota ikkunaa."\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4 Jumala!" sanoi Steevens; "etteh\xc3\xa4n Te luule --?"\r\n\r\n"Kyll\xc3\xa4!" sanoi Weybridge ja j\xc3\xa4tti loput h\xc3\xa4nen mielikuvituksensa\r\nt\xc3\xa4ydennett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi.\r\n\r\n"En min\xc3\xa4 ole mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n erinomainen laskujen ihailija", sanoi kapteni\r\nep\xc3\xa4illen, "niin etten min\xc3\xa4 kuitenkaan ole viel\xc3\xa4 toivoton."\r\n\r\nPuoleny\xc3\xb6n aikaan kanuunavene kierteli kaaressa sit\xc3\xa4 paikkaa, johon\r\npallo oli uponnut ja s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6valon valkoinen juova h\xc3\xa4il\xc3\xa4hteli, lensi ja\r\npys\xc3\xa4hteli rauhattomana fosforiloisteisella vesi-aavikolla pienten\r\nt\xc3\xa4htien alla.\r\n\r\n"Ellei ikkuna ole murskaantunut, on juttu viisikertaa vaikeampi", sanoi\r\nWeybridge, "sill\xc3\xa4 sitten on h\xc3\xa4nen kellolaitoksensa joutunut ep\xc3\xa4kuntoon\r\nja h\xc3\xa4n on nyt tuolla, viisi peninkulmaa jalkaimme alla, on siell\xc3\xa4\r\nel\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kylm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, suljettuna tuohon pieneen kupla\r\npahaseensa; on siell\xc3\xa4, minne ei p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n s\xc3\xa4de ole koskaan paistanut eik\xc3\xa4\r\nihmisolentoa el\xc3\xa4nyt senj\xc3\xa4lkeen kun vedet koottiin. H\xc3\xa4n on ilman ruokaa,\r\nn\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4, janoisena ja peloissaan, arvaillen kuoleeko n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vai\r\ntukehtuuko. Mik\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n siit\xc3\xa4 tulee. Myerin aparatti on luullakseni jo\r\naikoja sitten lakannut tekem\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 teht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Miten kauvan ne\r\noikeastaan toimivat?"\r\n\r\n"Taivas armahtakoon!" huudahti h\xc3\xa4n; "miten pieni\xc3\xa4 me olemme! Millaisia\r\navuttomia raukkoja! Tuolla alhaalla on peninkulmia vett\xc3\xa4 -- yh\xc3\xa4 vaan\r\nvett\xc3\xa4, ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4mme laajat vesivainiot ja yll\xc3\xa4mme pilvet. Puis!" H\xc3\xa4n\r\nojensi k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 ja samalla kohosi merest\xc3\xa4 valkonen s\xc3\xa4de pilviin p\xc3\xa4in,\r\nalkoi liikkua hitaammin, pys\xc3\xa4htyi kokonaan ja n\xc3\xa4ytti uudelta taivaalle\r\nilmestyneelt\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4hdelt\xc3\xa4. Sitten se putosi alas ja katosi t\xc3\xa4htien\r\nheijastuksiin ja meren fosforimaiseen sumuun.\r\n\r\nWeybridge j\xc3\xa4i siihen, k\xc3\xa4si ojollaan ja suu auki. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n sulki\r\nsuunsa, aukasi sen j\xc3\xa4lleen ja teki k\xc3\xa4sill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4rsim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4 liikkeit\xc3\xa4,\r\nhuusi "El-stead ohoi!" ja juoksi suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 valonheitt\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4n luo. "Min\xc3\xa4\r\nn\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4net", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Tuolla oikealla puolen! H\xc3\xa4n on v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4nyt s\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xb6n\r\npalamaan ja h\xc3\xa4n nousi juuri vedest\xc3\xa4. Kuljettakaa valoa. Meid\xc3\xa4n pit\xc3\xa4isi\r\nn\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net, kun h\xc3\xa4n nousee pinnalle." Ei h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xb6ydetty ennen\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nkoittoa. Silloin vasta pallo tavattiin, laitettiin nostokone\r\nkuntoon ja yhden veneen miehist\xc3\xb6 kiinnitti keksin palloon. Saatuaan\r\npallon kannelle, ruuvasivat he lasin auki ja tirkistiv\xc3\xa4t pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nsisustaan (s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6valokammion tarkotus n\xc3\xa4et oli valaista vett\xc3\xa4 pallon\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4 ja se oli aivan erill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n isosta kammiosta).\r\n\r\nIlma pallon sis\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 oli hyvin kuumaa, kummi lasinreij\xc3\xa4n reunoilla oli\r\npehmennyt. Innokkaisiin kyselyihin ei kuulunut vastausta eik\xc3\xa4\r\nliikahdustakaan el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 olennosta. Elstead n\xc3\xa4ytti makaavan\r\nliikkumatta, mykkyr\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 pallon pohjalla. Laivan l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4ri ry\xc3\xb6mi sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nnosti h\xc3\xa4net ulos. Hetkeen eiv\xc3\xa4t he tienneet, oliko Elstead kuollut vai\r\nel\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4. Laivan lamppujen keltaisessa valossa kiilsiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa\r\nhielle. He veiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4net omaan hyttiins\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nHavaittiin, ettei h\xc3\xa4n ollut kuollut. Hermosto vaan oli aivan lamassa ja\r\nruumis kovin kolhiintunut. Muutamia p\xc3\xa4ivi\xc3\xa4 piti h\xc3\xa4nen maata aivan\r\nhiljaa. Meni viikko, ennenkuin h\xc3\xa4n voi kertoa kokemuksiaan.\r\n\r\nMelkein ensi sanoikseen sanoi h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4htev\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 uudelleen meren pohjaan.\r\nPallo vaan piti tehd\xc3\xa4 toisenlaiseksi, niin ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tarpeen tullen voi\r\nkatkaista k\xc3\xb6yden. H\xc3\xa4n oli n\xc3\xa4hnyt ihmeit\xc3\xa4. "Te luulitte, etten min\xc3\xa4\r\ntapaisi muuta kuin liejua", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "Te nauroitte minun\r\nyritykselleni ja min\xc3\xa4 olen l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4nyt uuden maailman!" H\xc3\xa4n kertoi\r\njuttunsa katkonaisesti ja enimm\xc3\xa4kseen v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, niin ett\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4\r\non mahdoton toistaa h\xc3\xa4nen sanoillaan. Mutta seuraavanlainen on kertomus\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kokemuksistaan.\r\n\r\nAlku oli kamala. Ennenkuin k\xc3\xb6ysi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4si juoksemaan, oli pallo kierinyt\r\nymp\xc3\xa4ri. H\xc3\xa4n oli kuin sammakko potkupallossa. H\xc3\xa4n ei n\xc3\xa4hnyt muuta kuin\r\nnostokoneen ja pilvet yl\xc3\xa4puolellaan ja joskus vilauksen laivan kannella\r\nolevista ihmisist\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n ei voinut aavistaakaan, minnep\xc3\xa4in pallo ensi\r\nhetkess\xc3\xa4 heilahtaisi. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 havaitsee h\xc3\xa4n olevansa kumossa, koettavansa\r\nnousta, menev\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 taas kuperkeikkaa tyynyill\xc3\xa4. Mik\xc3\xa4 muu muoto hyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nolisi sisustalle ollut mukavampi, mutta mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muu muoto ei olisi\r\nvoinut kest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 alimpain vesikerrosten kovaa painetta.\r\n\r\nYht\'\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 pallo lakkasi heilumasta; se suoristui ja h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki seisomaan\r\nnoustunaan, miten vesi ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4 oli vihre\xc3\xa4nsinist\xc3\xa4 ja heikko valo\r\nsikersi ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti. Joukko pieni\xc3\xa4 uivia esineit\xc3\xa4 kohosi\r\nnopeasti h\xc3\xa4nen alapuoleltaan, kuten n\xc3\xa4ytti, valoa kohti. H\xc3\xa4nen siin\xc3\xa4\r\nkatsellessaan tuli pime\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja pime\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, kunnes vesi yl\xc3\xa4puolella oli\r\nmustaa kuin syd\xc3\xa4ny\xc3\xb6n taivas, joskin hiukan vihert\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja alapuolella\r\nsydenkarvaista. Pienet l\xc3\xa4pin\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4t esineet synnyttiv\xc3\xa4t hiukan valoa ja\r\nsy\xc3\xb6ksyiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen ohitsensa hienoina vihert\xc3\xa4vin\xc3\xa4 juovina.\r\n\r\nJa tunne siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 mentiin alasp\xc3\xa4in! Se oli aivan samanlainen kuin\r\npudotessa. Sill\xc3\xa4 erotuksella vaan, ett\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 kesti. On vaikea kuvailla,\r\nmillaiselta tuo jatkuva putoaminen tuntui. Silloin Elstead ainakin\r\nkatui, ett\xc3\xa4 oli retkelle l\xc3\xa4htenyt. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki kaikki aivan uudessa\r\nvalossa. H\xc3\xa4n muisti ison mustekalan, jonka sanotaan el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n syvill\xc3\xa4\r\nvesill\xc3\xa4 ja jollaisia joskus l\xc3\xb6ydet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n puolisulaneina valaitten sis\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\ntai kuolleina, m\xc3\xa4d\xc3\xa4nnein\xc3\xa4 ja puoleksi sy\xc3\xb6tyin\xc3\xa4 kaloissa. Otaksutaanpa,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 sellainen tarttuisi kiinni eik\xc3\xa4 laskisi menem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ja oliko\r\nkellolaitosta kylliksi koetettu? Mutta tahtoipa h\xc3\xa4n palata tai ei, se\r\nei vaikuttanut yht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nViidenkymmenen sekunnin kuluttua oli kaikki ulkopuolella pime\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kuin\r\ny\xc3\xb6, paitsi siell\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen pallonsa valo l\xc3\xa4visti vett\xc3\xa4 ja valaisi\r\njonkun kalan tai putoavan palasen. Ne vilahtivat niin \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ohi, ettei\r\nh\xc3\xa4n voinut saada selville, mit\xc3\xa4 ne olivat. Kerran h\xc3\xa4n luuli menev\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nhaikalan ohi. Sitten alkoi pallo kuumentua hankautuessaan veteen. He\r\neiv\xc3\xa4t olleet ottaneet sit\xc3\xa4 huomioon.\r\n\r\nEnsim\xc3\xa4inen seikka, jonka h\xc3\xa4n huomasi, oli ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n hikosi. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nkuuli jalkainsa alla yh\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nekk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kihin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja n\xc3\xa4ki joukon pieni\xc3\xa4\r\nkuplia -- ne olivat hyvin pieni\xc3\xa4 -- suihkuna sy\xc3\xb6ksyv\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in.\r\nH\xc3\xb6yry\xc3\xa4! H\xc3\xa4n koetti lasia. Se oli kuuma. H\xc3\xa4n sytytti pienen hehkulampun,\r\njoka valaisi h\xc3\xa4nen huonettaan, katsoi kelloon, joka oli tyynytetyll\xc3\xa4\r\nsein\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 nappulain luona, ja n\xc3\xa4ki olleensa matkalla kaksi minuttia.\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4 johtui, ett\xc3\xa4 ikkuna voisi murtua l\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4in\r\n\xc3\xa4kkin\xc3\xa4isess\xc3\xa4 vaihteessa, sill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tiesi pohjavetten aina olevan\r\nl\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tym\xc3\xa4pistett\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSilloin alkoi pallon lattia yht\'\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin painaa h\xc3\xa4nen jalkojaan,\r\nkuplat ulkopuolella kulkivat yh\xc3\xa4 hitaammin ja kihin\xc3\xa4 heikkeni. Pallo\r\nkeikahti hieman. Lasi ei ollut murtunut, mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei ollut tapahtunut ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4n tiesi, ett\xc3\xa4 putoamisen vaarat ainakin olivat ohitse.\r\n\r\nMinutin kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n tulisi pohjaan. H\xc3\xa4n ajatteli Steevensi\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nWeybridge\xc3\xa4 ja muita siell\xc3\xa4 viisi peninkulmaa ylemp\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, korkeammalla\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen yl\xc3\xa4puolellaan, kuin korkeimmat pilvet koskaan ovat maasta. Siell\xc3\xa4\r\nhe kulkivat hiljalleen, tuijottivat alas ja ihmetteliv\xc3\xa4t, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nelle\r\noli tapahtunut.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tirkisti ikkunasta. Ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuplia ja kihin\xc3\xa4 oli lakannut.\r\nUlkona oli ankaran mustaa -- kaikki kuin tummaa samettia -- paitsi\r\nmiss\xc3\xa4 s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6valo tunkeutui autioon veteen. Niiss\xc3\xa4 paikoin n\xc3\xa4ytti vesi\r\nkellanviheri\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4. Sitten ui n\xc3\xa4kyviin kolme olentoa per\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xa4in. Ei voinut\r\nsaada selville, olivatko ne pieni\xc3\xa4 ja l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 vaiko suuria ja kaukana.\r\n\r\nNiit\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i sinerv\xc3\xa4, h\xc3\xa4myinen valo, kalastaja-alusten lyhtyjen valon\r\ntapainen ja kyljill\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyi laivan ikkunoita muistuttavia kirkkaita\r\npilkkuja. Niitten valkimoiminen n\xc3\xa4ytti lakkaavan, kun ne tulivat h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nlamppunsa s\xc3\xa4teilyyn, ja silloin h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki niitten olevan pieni\xc3\xa4,\r\nkummallisen muotoisia kaloja. Niill\xc3\xa4 oli isot p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t, suuret silm\xc3\xa4t ja\r\nkapenevat ruumiit pyrst\xc3\xb6ineen. Niitten silm\xc3\xa4t olivat suunnatut h\xc3\xa4neen\r\nja n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t ne seuraavan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 alasp\xc3\xa4in. H\xc3\xa4n arveli valon vet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\nniit\xc3\xa4 puoleensa.\r\n\r\nToisia samanlaisia liittyi matkaan. L\xc3\xa4hetess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pohjaa h\xc3\xa4n huomasi,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 vesi muuttui vaaleaksi ja lampun valojuovassa n\xc3\xa4kyi pieni\xc3\xa4\r\npilkkuja kuten tomuhiukkasia auringonvalossa. Lyijypainot varmaankin\r\nolivat pohjasta irroittaneet mutaa ja liejua.\r\n\r\nLyijypainoja kohti laskeutuessaan ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6i h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 sakea vaaleus, jota\r\ns\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6valo ei saanut syv\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4vistetyksi. Monta minuuttia kului\r\nennenkuin liikkeelle l\xc3\xa4hteneet pohjakerrostumat v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4nkin asettuivat.\r\nSitten voi h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 lamppunsa ja kaukaisen kalajoukon fosforivalossa\r\nliejusta harmahtavaksi sameutuneen veden liikahtelevan. Siell\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\nvaan n\xc3\xa4kyi toisiinsa kietoutuneita merililjaryhmi\xc3\xa4, joiden n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4iset\r\ntuntorihmat hitaasti heiluivat. Ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 lep\xc3\xa4si vesi ankaran mustana.\r\n\r\nKauvempana n\xc3\xa4kyiv\xc3\xa4t j\xc3\xa4ttil\xc3\xa4issuuren sieniryhm\xc3\xa4n miellytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t,\r\nl\xc3\xa4pikuultavat rajaviivat. Pohjalla oli siell\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4piikkisi\xc3\xa4\r\nlatteita m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n arveli niit\xc3\xa4 jonkunlaiseksi merisiililajiksi.\r\nPieni\xc3\xa4, isosilm\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 tai sokeita olentoja, jotka omituisesti\r\nmuistuttivat milloin siiraa milloin hummeria, ry\xc3\xb6mi hitaasti valojuovan\r\nyli kadoten j\xc3\xa4lleen pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en vaon liejuun.\r\n\r\nSitten k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4hti py\xc3\xb6reilev\xc3\xa4 parvi pikkukaloja h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti kuten\r\nkottaraisjoukko. Ne kulkivat h\xc3\xa4nen ylitsens\xc3\xa4 kuin hohtava lumipilvi ja\r\nj\xc3\xa4lemp\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyi palloa kohti uivan joku isompi olento.\r\n\r\nEnsin se n\xc3\xa4kyi vain ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti: laiskasti liikkuva ruumis, joka kaukaa\r\nmuistutti k\xc3\xa4velev\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ihmist\xc3\xa4. Sitten se tuli lampun valosuihkuun. Loisto\r\nsokaisi sen, se sulki silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n katseli, j\xc3\xa4ykk\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kummastuksesta.\r\n\r\nSe oli omituinen luurankoinen el\xc3\xa4in. Sen mustanpunainen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 muistutti\r\nhiukan kameleonttia, mutta sill\xc3\xa4 oli niin korkea otsa ja niin iso\r\naivokoppa, ettei mill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n matelijalla ole sellaista. Kasvojen pysty\r\nasento teki sen kummallisesti ihmisolennon n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6iseksi.\r\n\r\nKuopistaan ulkonevat, isot ja kameleonttimaiset silm\xc3\xa4t sill\xc3\xa4 oli ja\r\nleve\xc3\xa4 matelijan suu. Huulet olivat luiset, niitten yl\xc3\xa4puolella pienet\r\nsieraimet. Korvien sijalla oli kaksi kiduskantta, joitten alta tunki\r\nesiin ohkainen korallikukka, joka eniten muistutti nuorten rauskujen ja\r\nhaikalain kukkamaisia kiduksia.\r\n\r\nKasvojen ihmismuotoisuus ei ollut ihmeellisint\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 olennossa. Se oli\r\nkaksijalkainen; sen melkein pallomaista ruumista tuki kaksi\r\nsammakkomaista jalkaa ja paksu h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Etujaloissaan, jotka olivat viel\xc3\xa4\r\npahempia ihmisk\xc3\xa4den irvikuvia kuin sammakon, oli sill\xc3\xa4 kuparilla\r\nkoristettu luinen sauva. V\xc3\xa4rilt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oli olento kirjava; sen, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, k\xc3\xa4det\r\nja jalat olivat tulipunaset, mutta ruumiin nahkapeite, joka riippui\r\nlaskoksissa kuin vaatteet, oli harmaan valkimoiva. Nyt se oli\r\npaikoillaan valon h\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4isem\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nVihdoin tuo syvyyden tuntematon asujain r\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4ytti silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 auki.\r\nVarjostaen niit\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n avasi se suunsa ja huusi. Ihmis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni olisi\r\nehk\xc3\xa4 kuulunut samanlaiselta ter\xc3\xa4ksen ja tyynyjen l\xc3\xa4pi. Mitenk\xc3\xa4 ilman\r\nkeuhkoja voi saada \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen syntym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, sit\xc3\xa4 ei Elstead yritt\xc3\xa4nytk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nselitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Sitten olento siirtyi valojuovaa ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n salaper\xc3\xa4iseen\r\npimeyteen ja Elstead paremmin tunsi kuin n\xc3\xa4ki, ett\xc3\xa4 se l\xc3\xa4hestyi palloa.\r\nLuullen ett\xc3\xa4 valo oli sen houkutellut luokseen, v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi Elstead\r\ns\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6nappulaa. Hetkisen kuluttua tuntui jokin pehme\xc3\xa4sti koskevan\r\npalloon. Se heilui.\r\n\r\nSitten huuto toistui ja h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 tuntui, kuin kaukainen kaiku siihen\r\nvastaisi. Kosketus uudistui; pallo heilahti ja kopahti rullaan, jolle\r\nk\xc3\xb6ysi oli kierretty. H\xc3\xa4n seisoi pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ja tirkisti syvyyden\r\nijankaikkiseen y\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6n. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki, hyvin h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4rin\xc3\xa4 ja kaukana,\r\nuseita fosforiloistoisia ihmism\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 olioita. Ne tulivat hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vauhtia\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti.\r\n\r\nPuolipy\xc3\xb6rryksiss\xc3\xa4 etsi h\xc3\xa4n heiluvassa vankilassaan ulkopuolisen\r\ns\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6lampun nappulaa ja sytytti ep\xc3\xa4huomiossa pienen hehkulamppunsa\r\nsein\xc3\xa4tyynyjen v\xc3\xa4liss\xc3\xa4. Pallo py\xc3\xb6ri ja l\xc3\xa4hti alasp\xc3\xa4in. H\xc3\xa4n kuuli\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen huudahduksia ja n\xc3\xa4ki jaloilleen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n alaikkunassaan\r\nkaksi muljottavaa silm\xc3\xa4paria, joihin h\xc3\xa4nen lamppunsa valo kuvastui.\r\n\r\nSamassa hetkess\xc3\xa4 iskiv\xc3\xa4t ankarat kourat pallon ter\xc3\xa4speitteeseen ja\r\nkellon metallisuojustasta, jota taottiin voimain takaa, l\xc3\xa4hti perin\r\nik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni. Elstead oli syd\xc3\xa4n kurkussa, sill\xc3\xa4 jos nuo olennot\r\npys\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4isiv\xc3\xa4t kellolaitoksen, ei h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 olisi yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4syn toivoakaan.\r\nTuskin oli h\xc3\xa4n sen saanut ajatelluksi, kun pallo heilui ankarasti ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen jalkansa t\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t sen pohjaa vastaan. H\xc3\xa4n sammutti pikku-lampun\r\nja sytytti yl\xc3\xa4osastossa olevan ison lampun, jonka valo heittyi ulos\r\nveteen. Merenpohja ja ihmismuotoiset olennot olivat poissa ja joukko\r\ntoisiaan takaa-ajavia kaloja kulki ikkunan ohi.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n luuli noitten syvyyden kummallisten asujain katkaisseen h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nk\xc3\xb6ytens\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n oli kai pelastunut. Nopeammin ja nopeammin kulki h\xc3\xa4n\r\nyl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in. Sitten pallo pys\xc3\xa4htyi. \xc3\x84kkin\xc3\xa4inen nyk\xc3\xa4ys ja h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 iski\r\nvankilan kattoon. Puoleen minuuttiin ei h\xc3\xa4n voinut ajatella mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n tunsi, miten pallo py\xc3\xb6ri ja keinui hitaasti. Samalla tuntui,\r\nkuin olisi sit\xc3\xa4 vedetty pitkin merta. Nojaten ikkunaan sai h\xc3\xa4n sen\r\npuolen palloa painumaan alasp\xc3\xa4in, mutta muuta ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt kuin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nlamppunsa valojuova, joka turhaan ponnisteli pimeytt\xc3\xa4 vastaan. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmieleens\xc3\xa4 juolahti, ett\xc3\xa4 voisi ehk\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 paremmin, jos sammuttaisi\r\nvalon ja antaisi silm\xc3\xa4in tottua syv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pimeyteen.\r\n\r\nSiin\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli oikeassa. Hetkisen kuluttua muuttui tuo samettimainen\r\npimeys l\xc3\xa4pikuultavaksi ja h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki kaukana ja niin heikosti kuin\r\nEnglannin kes\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4valossa alapuolellaan liikkuvia olentoja. H\xc3\xa4n\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti, ett\xc3\xa4 nuo el\xc3\xa4imet olivat irroittaneet h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xb6ytens\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nkuljettivat h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 pitkin meren pohjaa.\r\n\r\nJa sitten h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki v\xc3\xa4reilev\xc3\xa4n meren alaisen tason l\xc3\xa4pi jotakin\r\nep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja kaukaista: niin laajalle, kuin pienest\xc3\xa4 ikkunasta voi\r\nn\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4, levisi n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6piiri kuulakan valoisena. Sinne p\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nkuletettiin, aivan kuin ihmiset olisivat kulettaneet ilmapalloa maalta\r\nkaupunkiin. Matka k\xc3\xa4vi kovin hitaasti ja kovin hitaasti j\xc3\xa4rjestyi\r\nvaloisa ala selvempiin muotoihin.\r\n\r\nKello oli pian viisi, kun h\xc3\xa4n saapui tuon valoisan paikan kohdalle.\r\n\r\nNyt h\xc3\xa4n voi n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 muotoja, jotka muistuttivat katuja taloineen. Ne\r\nolivat ryhm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 suuren, katottoman rakennuksen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4, joka\r\nomituisesti muistutti luostarin raunioita. Kaikki oli kuin kartalla\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen allaan. Talot olivat katottomia sein\xc3\xa4ryhmi\xc3\xa4. Ne olivat, kuten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmy\xc3\xb6hemmin huomasi, valkimoivaa luuta. Kaikki n\xc3\xa4ytti veteen vajonneesta\r\nkuuvalosta tehdylt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nPaikan keskustassa ojentelivat heiluvat liljat\xc3\xa4hdet tuntorihmojaan,\r\nkorkeat, hoikat ja lasimaiset sienet kohosivat kuin kirkkaat tornit ja\r\nliljain hehkuva valo erosi paikan yleisvalaistuksesta. Avoimilla\r\npaikoilla voi h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 liikkuvia joukkoja, mutta oli liian korkealla\r\nvoidakseen eroittaa yksil\xc3\xb6j\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSitten ne vetiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 hitaasti alasp\xc3\xa4in. Paikan yksityiskohdat\r\nalkoivat v\xc3\xa4hitellen selvit\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki, ett\xc3\xa4 noiden pilvim\xc3\xa4isten\r\nrakennusten rajaviivat olivat pieni\xc3\xa4 py\xc3\xb6reit\xc3\xa4 helmim\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 esineit\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nett\xc3\xa4 eri paikoissa h\xc3\xa4nen alapuolellaan, avoimilla paikoilla, oli kuin\r\nkuoreen peittyneitten laivain runkoja.\r\n\r\nHitaasti ja varmasti h\xc3\xa4n painui alasp\xc3\xa4in ja muodot h\xc3\xa4nen allaan yh\xc3\xa4\r\nkirkastuivat, selveniv\xc3\xa4t, tulivat m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4tymmiksi. H\xc3\xa4n huomasi kulkevansa\r\nkaupungin keskess\xc3\xa4 olevaa isoa rakennusta kohti ja h\xc3\xa4n voi n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 ne\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 moninaisimmat oliot, jotka kuljettivat k\xc3\xb6ytt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n ihmetteli\r\nn\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yhden laivoista, jotka muodostivat paikan korkeat\r\nrakennukset, olevan t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 liikehtivi\xc3\xa4 olentoja, jotka silm\xc3\xa4iliv\xc3\xa4t\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Sitten suuren rakennuksen sein\xc3\xa4t hitaasti kohosivat h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rilleen peitt\xc3\xa4en koko n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xb6n.\r\n\r\nNe sein\xc3\xa4t olivat veden sy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 puuta, kierretty\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xb6ytt\xc3\xa4, rautakiskoja,\r\nkuparia ja kuolleitten ihmisten p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kalloja. Kallot olivat sikin sokin,\r\nmutkikkaissa kierteiss\xc3\xa4, ja ihmeellisin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntein niiden jono kulki\r\npitkin sein\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Niitten silm\xc3\xa4reijist\xc3\xa4 ja yli koko paikan vilahteli\r\nedestakaisin hopeahohtoisia pikkukaloja.\r\n\r\n\xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ytti h\xc3\xa4nen korvansa matala huuto ja h\xc3\xa4ly, joka muistutti\r\nankaraa torven \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Se vaikeni ja alkoi kuulua ihmeellinen laulu.\r\nPallo painui alasp\xc3\xa4in, ohi korkeakaaristen ikkunain, joista suuret\r\njoukot noita kummallisia henkim\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 olentoja katseli h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Vihdoin\r\nh\xc3\xa4n tuli, kuten n\xc3\xa4ytti, jonkunmoiselle alttarille keskell\xc3\xa4 kaupunkia.\r\n\r\nNyt oli h\xc3\xa4n niin alhaalla, ett\xc3\xa4 voi n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 nuo kummalliset syvyyksien\r\nel\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4t viel\xc3\xa4kin selvemmin. Ihmeekseen h\xc3\xa4n huomasi niitten kaikkien\r\nkumartuvan h\xc3\xa4nen eteens\xc3\xa4. Yksi vain, jolla n\xc3\xa4ytti olevan suomupuku ja\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 loistava diademi, seisoi aukoen ja sulkien matelijasuutaan aivan\r\nkuin olisi johtanut kumartuneitten laulua.\r\n\r\nMik\xc3\xa4 lieneekin saanut Elsteadin j\xc3\xa4lleen sytytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pienen\r\nhehkulamppunsa, vaikka oli melkein varmaa, ett\xc3\xa4 olennot h\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4isiv\xc3\xa4t sen\r\nn\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pimeyteen. Valon \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 syttyess\xc3\xa4 loppui laulu ja alkoi\r\nkuulua riemuitseva melu. Elstead peloissaan sammutti j\xc3\xa4lleen lampun ja\r\nkatosi heilt\xc3\xa4. Hetkeen ei h\xc3\xa4n voinut n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 olennot tekiv\xc3\xa4t, mutta\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4in j\xc3\xa4lleen totuttua pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 eroittamaan h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki, ett\xc3\xa4 ne olivat\r\nj\xc3\xa4lleen polvillaan. Ja niin he h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 palvelivat kolme tuntia yhteen\r\nmittaan.\r\n\r\nMit\xc3\xa4 seikkaper\xc3\xa4isimmin kertoi Elstead t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 kummallisesta kaupungista\r\nja sen asujista, noista ikuisen y\xc3\xb6n el\xc3\xa4jist\xc3\xa4, jotka eiv\xc3\xa4t ole koskaan\r\nn\xc3\xa4hneet aurinkoa, kuuta, t\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4, viheri\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 ruohoa, eiv\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4 yht\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nilmaa hengitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olentoa, jotka eiv\xc3\xa4t tied\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tulesta eiv\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4\r\nmuusta valosta kuin el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4in olentojen fosforiloistosta.\r\n\r\nJos h\xc3\xa4nen kertomuksensa on ihmeellinen, niin viel\xc3\xa4 kummempaa on kuulla,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 niin etev\xc3\xa4t tiedemiehet kuin Adams ja Jenkins pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t sit\xc3\xa4 aivan\r\nuskottavana. Heid\xc3\xa4n mielest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n on aivan mahdollista, ett\xc3\xa4 syv\xc3\xa4n meren\r\npohjalla el\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4rkevi\xc3\xa4, vett\xc3\xa4 hengitt\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 luurankoisia el\xc3\xa4imi\xc3\xa4, jotka\r\novat tottuneet alhaiseen l\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja kovaan paineeseen ja ovat niin\r\nraskasrakenteisia, etteiv\xc3\xa4t el\xc3\xa4vin\xc3\xa4 eiv\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4 kuolleina nouse pinnalle.\r\nSiell\xc3\xa4 ne voivat el\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ilman ett\xc3\xa4 meill\xc3\xa4 on niist\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4hint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tietoa,\r\nollen kuten mekin uuden punaisen hiekkakivikauden suurten\r\nel\xc3\xa4intenkaltaisten olioitten j\xc3\xa4lkel\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nNe taas pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t meit\xc3\xa4 ihmeellisin\xc3\xa4 meteoriolentoina, joita putoilee\r\nheid\xc3\xa4n salaper\xc3\xa4isen pime\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 vesitaivaastaan. Emmek\xc3\xa4 vain me itse, vaan\r\nmy\xc3\xb6skin meid\xc3\xa4n laivamme, metallipalaset ja ty\xc3\xb6kalumme tulevat heille\r\nkuin pilvist\xc3\xa4. Joskus putoava esine musertaa jonkun heist\xc3\xa4 aivan kuin\r\njonkun ylh\xc3\xa4isen n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n voiman tuomiosta, joskus tulee harvinaisia\r\nja hy\xc3\xb6dyllisi\xc3\xa4 tavaroita, joskus tulevaisuuden ennemerkkej\xc3\xa4. Voi ehk\xc3\xa4\r\nymm\xc3\xa4rt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, miten he k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytyv\xc3\xa4t n\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n ihmisen, kun\r\najattelee, mit\xc3\xa4 joku raakalaiskansa tekisi, jos sen sekaan \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4\r\npilvist\xc3\xa4 putoaisi loistava, s\xc3\xa4dekeh\xc3\xa4n ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6im\xc3\xa4 olio.\r\n\r\nTunnin tai pari kertoi Elstead Ptarmiganin upseereille yksityiskohtia\r\nihmeellisist\xc3\xa4 kahdestatoista tunnistaan syvyydess\xc3\xa4. On varmaa, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n\r\naikoi ne kirjoittaakin, mutta siit\xc3\xa4 ei koskaan tullut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja niinp\xc3\xa4\r\nei meill\xc3\xa4 ole muuta neuvoa kuin koota h\xc3\xa4nen kertomuksensa hajanaiset\r\nkappaleet kapteeni Simmonsin, Weybridgen, Steevensin, Lindleyn ja\r\nmuitten muistista.\r\n\r\nMe n\xc3\xa4emme kaikki hajanaisina kuvina -- suuren, yliluonnollisen\r\nrakennuksen, kumartuneet, laulavat olennot tummine kameleonttip\xc3\xa4ineen\r\nja heikosti loistavine vaatteineen ja Elsteadin, joka sytytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4lleen\r\nlamppunsa ja koettaa turhaan saada niille selv\xc3\xa4ksi, ett\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xb6ysi, joka\r\npid\xc3\xa4tti palloa, oli laskettava irti. Hetki hetken per\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kului ja\r\nElstead kauhistui, kun kelloa katsoessaan huomasi, ett\xc3\xa4 happea oli en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nnelj\xc3\xa4ksi tunniksi. Mutta laulu h\xc3\xa4nen kunniakseen jatkui; se tuntui\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4hestyv\xc3\xa4n kuolemansa surumarssilta.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ei k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4nyt, miten pallo oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt irralleen, mutta riippuvan\r\nk\xc3\xb6yden p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en oli alttarin reuna hangannut siteen poikki.\r\nPallo py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4hti \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 ja h\xc3\xa4n kiisi yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in, pois merenalaisesta\r\nmaailmasta kuten eeterim\xc3\xa4inen, tyhjyyden verhooma olento, joka meid\xc3\xa4n\r\nilmakeh\xc3\xa4mme l\xc3\xa4pi liitelee omaan kotoiseen eeteriins\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n katosi\r\npalvelijoiltaan kuin vetykupla yl\xc3\xa4ilmoja kohti. Omituinen taivaaseen\r\nastuminen se oli niille.\r\n\r\nYh\xc3\xa4 suurenevalla nopeudella riensi pallo yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in vapauduttuaan\r\nlyijypainoistaan.\r\n\r\nIkkunapuoli oli ylimp\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, kuplavirrat kiehuivat laseissa. Joka hetki\r\npelk\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4n niitten s\xc3\xa4rkyv\xc3\xa4n. Sitten tuntui h\xc3\xa4nen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n jotain\r\nirtautuvan, se oli kuin suuri py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4. Huone alkoi kiert\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4ri. H\xc3\xa4n\r\npy\xc3\xb6rtyi. Tajuihinsa tullessaan oli h\xc3\xa4n hytiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja kuuli tohtorin\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 on p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sis\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xb6 siit\xc3\xa4 ihmeellisest\xc3\xa4 tarinasta, jonka Elstead\r\nkatkelmina kertoi Ptarmiganin upseereille. My\xc3\xb6hemmin lupasi h\xc3\xa4n sen\r\nkirjoittaa kokonaisuudessaan. H\xc3\xa4nen mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oli vain pallonsa\r\nparantaminen. Se tapahtui Riossa.\r\n\r\nMuuta kerrottavaa ei olekaan kuin se, ett\xc3\xa4 Elstead 2 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 helmikuuta\r\n1896 toisen kerran laskeutui valtameren syvyyteen niiden kokemusten\r\nopastamana, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n ensi retkell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oli saanut. H\xc3\xa4n ei palannut.\r\nPtarmigan risteili niill\xc3\xa4 paikoin, miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli mereen sukeltanut,\r\nkolmetoista p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Sitten se palasi Rioon ja tieto\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen kohtalostaan l\xc3\xa4hetettiin s\xc3\xa4hk\xc3\xb6teitse h\xc3\xa4nen yst\xc3\xa4villeen. Sellainen\r\non nyt asiain tila. Ja onpa hyvin luultavaa, ettei uutta yrityst\xc3\xa4 en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntehd\xc3\xa4 sen ihmeellisen tarinan todenper\xc3\xa4isyyden selville saamiseksi,\r\njonka Elstead kertoi syvyyksien t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n asti tuntemattomista\r\nkaupungeista.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nGottfried Plattnerin tarina.\r\n\r\n\r\nOn aika vaikeata menn\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 Gottfried Plattnerin tarinaa\r\nuskoa vai eik\xc3\xb6. Tosin meill\xc3\xa4 on seitsem\xc3\xa4n todistajaa -- tai tarkemmin\r\nsanoen kuusi ja puoli silm\xc3\xa4paria sek\xc3\xa4 yksi eitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n tosiasia; mutta\r\nmy\xc3\xb6skin -- mit\xc3\xa4? -- ennakkoluuloja, terve j\xc3\xa4rki ja mielipiteitten\r\nj\xc3\xa4ykkyys. Seitsem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kunniallisemmalta n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 todistajaa ei l\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4\r\nmist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n; eitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tosiasiaa kuin Gottfried Plattnerin\r\nruumiinrakennuksen viallisuus ei ole. Eik\xc3\xa4 koskaan ole kerrottu\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4mp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 juttua kuin juttu n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 kaikista. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6mint\xc3\xa4 jutussa on\r\narvoisan Gottfriedin osa (min\xc3\xa4 luen h\xc3\xa4net noiden seitsem\xc3\xa4n joukkoon).\r\nTaivas varjelkoon minua edist\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 taikauskoa koettamalla olla ylen\r\npuolueeton! Min\xc3\xa4 tunnustan suoraan, ett\xc3\xa4 siin\xc3\xa4 jutussa Gottfried\r\nPlattneriin n\xc3\xa4hden on jotakin vinossa, mutta mik\xc3\xa4 se vino tekij\xc3\xa4 on,\r\nsit\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 totisesti en tied\xc3\xa4. Min\xc3\xa4 olen h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styen n\xc3\xa4hnyt, miten aivan\r\nodottamattomissa auktoriteetti-paikoissakin juttu on uskottu todeksi.\r\nArvelen kuitenkin, arvoisa lukijani, olevan selvint\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 kerron sen\r\nilman selityksi\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nGottfried Plattner on nimest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n huolimatta vapaana syntynyt\r\nenglantilainen. H\xc3\xa4nen is\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4, muuan elsassilainen, tuli Englantiin\r\nkuuskymmenluvulla, nai arvokkaan ja harvinaisilla esi-isill\xc3\xa4 varastetun\r\nenglantilaisen tyt\xc3\xb6n ja kuoli, p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en siten onnellisen ja\r\ntapahtumista k\xc3\xb6yh\xc3\xa4n el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 (joka p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4asiassa kului parkettilattiain\r\ntekoon) vuonna 1887. Gottfried on kahdenkymmenen seitsem\xc3\xa4n ik\xc3\xa4inen.\r\nKolme peritty\xc3\xa4 kielt\xc3\xa4 on auttanut h\xc3\xa4net uusien kielten opettajaksi\r\npieneen yksityiskouluun Etel\xc3\xa4-Englannissa. \xc3\x84kkin\xc3\xa4inen tarkastelija ei\r\nhuomaa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mik\xc3\xa4 eroittaisi h\xc3\xa4net kaikista muista uusien kielten\r\nopettajista kaikissa muissa pieniss\xc3\xa4 yksityiskouluissa. H\xc3\xa4nen pukunsa\r\nei ole eritt\xc3\xa4in kallis eik\xc3\xa4 muodikaskaan, mutta ei liioin halpa eik\xc3\xa4\r\nresuinen. H\xc3\xa4nen ulkonainen olemuksensa, samoin h\xc3\xa4nen pituutensa ja\r\nryhtins\xc3\xa4 on jotain huomaamatonta. Huomaisi ehk\xc3\xa4, etteiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkasvonsa, enemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuin useimpain muittenkaan ihmisten, ole aivan\r\ntasasuhtaiset: oikea silm\xc3\xa4 on hiukan suurempi kuin vasen ja leuan oikea\r\npuoli v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n lihavampi. Jos Te tavallisen huolimattomasti avaisitte\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen liivins\xc3\xa4 ja tunnustaisitte h\xc3\xa4nen syd\xc3\xa4mens\xc3\xa4 sykint\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, voisi Teist\xc3\xa4\r\ntuntua, ett\xc3\xa4 syd\xc3\xa4n on samallainen kuin kenen muun hyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Te\r\npit\xc3\xa4isitte h\xc3\xa4nen syd\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aivan tavallisena, mutta tottunut tarkastaja\r\nhuomaisi siin\xc3\xa4 jotain harvinaista. Kun Teille asian ilmoittaa, niin Te\r\nk\xc3\xa4sit\xc3\xa4tte heti ihmeellisyyden. Gottfried Plattnerin syd\xc3\xa4n tykytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\noikealla puolen ruumista.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 tosin ei ole Gottfriedin rakenteen ainoa omituisuus, mutta se\r\nvoisi ensinn\xc3\xa4 tulla tottumattomankin huomion esineeksi. Tunnetun\r\nkirurgin tekem\xc3\xa4 huolellinen tutkimus Gottfriedin sis\xc3\xa4isist\xc3\xa4 laitoksista\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 viittaavan siihen suuntaan, ett\xc3\xa4 kaikki muutkin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nruumiissaan tavattavat ep\xc3\xa4suhtaisuudet ovat v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4 paikoilla. Maksan\r\noikea nurkka on vasemmalla puolen, vasen oikealla. Keuhkot ovat\r\nsamoin v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rin p\xc3\xa4in. Viel\xc3\xa4 ihmeellisemp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 on, vaikka Gottfriedin\r\nn\xc3\xa4yttelykyvynkin ottaa lukuun, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen oikea k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 on hiljattain\r\nmuuttunut vasemmaksi. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n tapauksen j\xc3\xa4lkeen huomaamme (mahdollisimman\r\npuolueettomastikin asiaa tarkastaen), ett\xc3\xa4 Gottfriedin on hyvin vaikea\r\nkirjoittaa. Se k\xc3\xa4y p\xc3\xa4ins\xc3\xa4 ainoastaan paperin oikeasta syrj\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nvasempaan p\xc3\xa4in ja vasemmalla k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4. Oikea k\xc3\xa4si ei taivu heittoon,\r\naterioidessaan joutuu Gottfried pulaan veitsen ja kahvelin sekaantuessa\r\nja h\xc3\xa4nen ajatuksensa tien suunnasta -- h\xc3\xa4n on py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4ilij\xc3\xa4 -- ovat aivan\r\nep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4iset. Eik\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xb6ydy v\xc3\xa4hint\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aihetta otaksua, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nGottfriedissa ennen n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 tapahtumia olisi ollut taipumustakaan\r\nvasenk\xc3\xa4tisyyteen.\r\n\r\nToinenkin ihmeellinen tosiasia esiintyy t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 hullunkurisessa\r\njutussa. Gottfriedilla on kolme kuvaa omasta persoonastaan. N\xc3\xa4emme\r\nh\xc3\xa4net ensiksi viiden tai kuuden vuotiaana. Paksut s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ret pist\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t esiin\r\nvillakoltun alta h\xc3\xa4nen siin\xc3\xa4 seist\xc3\xa4 murjottaessaan. T\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kuvassa on\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen vasen silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 hiukan oikeata isompi ja leuan vasen puoli jonkun\r\nverran lihavampi. Nyky\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ovat osat aivan p\xc3\xa4invastoin. Kuva\r\nnelj\xc3\xa4ntoista-ik\xc3\xa4isest\xc3\xa4 Grottfriedista n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 puhuvan n\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4 tosiasioita\r\nvastaan, mutta syy on siin\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 se on noita halpoja suoraan\r\nmetallille otettuja kuvia, joita siihen aikaan k\xc3\xa4ytettiin ja jotka\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t kuvan aivan kuin peili. Kolmas kuva esitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4net\r\nkahdenkymmenen yhden vuotiaana ja vahvistaa edellisiss\xc3\xa4 ilmenev\xc3\xa4n\r\nseikan. Mit\xc3\xa4 vakuuttavimmalla tavalla ilmenee t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 se tosiasia, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nGottfriedin molemmat puolet ovat vaihtuneet. On vain mahdottoman vaikea\r\narvata, miten inhimillinen olento voi n\xc3\xa4in muuttua, ellei tapahdu\r\nerinomaista ja samalla tyhj\xc3\xa4np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 ihmett\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nVoisihan n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 asiat tosin selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 siten, ett\xc3\xa4 otaksuisi Gottfriedin\r\nsaattaneen tahallaan ihmeit\xc3\xa4 aikaan, syd\xc3\xa4mens\xc3\xa4 omituisesta asemasta\r\nl\xc3\xa4htien. Valokuvia voi v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja vasenk\xc3\xa4tisyytt\xc3\xa4 teeskennell\xc3\xa4. Mutta\r\nmiehen luonne ei anna aihetta sellaisiin arveluihin. H\xc3\xa4n on hiljainen,\r\nk\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llinen ja vaatimaton sek\xc3\xa4 Nordaun kannalta l\xc3\xa4peens\xc3\xa4 terve. H\xc3\xa4n\r\npit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 oluesta ja tupakoi kohtuullisesti, k\xc3\xa4velee joka p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\r\nterveydekseen ja pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 opetustaan laadultaan sangen arvokkaana. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4\r\non hyv\xc3\xa4 vaikka harjoittamaton tenori\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni ja h\xc3\xa4nen ilonansa on laulaa\r\nkansanomaisia, iloisia lauluja. H\xc3\xa4n on ihastunut lukemiseen, joskaan ei\r\nkuolettavasti -- suurin harha, mihin h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4sti hurskas optimisti eksyy\r\n-- h\xc3\xa4n nukkuu hyvin ja n\xc3\xa4kee harvoin unia. H\xc3\xa4n on totta tosiaan\r\nviimeinen mies sy\xc3\xb6tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n toisille satumaisia juttuja. Eik\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n\r\nsuinkaan olekaan t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 juttua maailmalle levitt\xc3\xa4nyt, h\xc3\xa4n on siit\xc3\xa4 hyvin\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n puhunut. H\xc3\xa4n esiintyy tutkijalle niin voittavan vaatimattomana,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 suurinkin ep\xc3\xa4ilij\xc3\xa4 alkaa uskoa. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kerrassaan h\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 jotain niin tavatonta on h\xc3\xa4nelle tapahtunut.\r\n\r\nOn surkuteltavaa, ett\xc3\xa4 Plattner inhoo kuoleman j\xc3\xa4lkeen toimitettua\r\nruumiinavausta ja t\xc3\xa4ydellinen todistus siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen ruumiissaan\r\novat vasen ja oikea vaihtuneet, j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 siten ehk\xc3\xa4 ainiaaksi saamatta.\r\nT\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 tosiasiasta kertomuksemme uskottavuus p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4asiassa riippuu. Ei voi\r\nmitenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n liikutella ihmist\xc3\xa4 avaruudessa -- avaruus otettuna siin\xc3\xa4\r\nmerkityksess\xc3\xa4 kuin ihmiset yleens\xc3\xa4 sen k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t -- eik\xc3\xa4 saada aikaan\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen eri puoliensa muuttumista. Kuinka h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4ttekin, aina on\r\noikea puoli oikea ja vasen vasen. Jos esine on hyvin ohut ja litte\xc3\xa4,\r\nk\xc3\xa4y se tietysti p\xc3\xa4ins\xc3\xa4. Voihan leikata paperista kuvion, jossa on oikea\r\nja vasen puoli, ja vaihtaa sen sivut yksinkertaisesti k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 se\r\nyl\xc3\xb6salaisin. Mutta paksun esineen laita on toinen. Matematiset\r\nteoretikot sanovat ett\xc3\xa4 ainoa keino, mill\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4llaisen massivin esineen\r\noikean ja vasemman puolen saa vaihtumaan, on temmata tuo esine\r\nkerrassaan pois avaruudesta sellaisena, kuin me sen tunnemme, ja\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 se jossain avaruuden ulkopuolella. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on hiukan hassua, mutta\r\njokainoa hiukankin matematikan teorioista tiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 voi sen vakuuttaa\r\nlukijalle todeksi. Puhuaksemme teknilliseen tapaan: Plattnerin oikean\r\nja vasemman puolen hullunkurinen sekaantuminen todistaa, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n on\r\navaruudestamme siirtynyt siihen, mit\xc3\xa4 kutsutaan nelj\xc3\xa4nneksi\r\nulottuvaisuudeksi ja palannut takaisin maailmaamme. Ellemme tahdo pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nitse\xc3\xa4mme keksityn ja tarkoituksettoman petoksen uhreina, t\xc3\xa4ytyy meid\xc3\xa4n\r\nuskoa, ett\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4in on tapahtunut.\r\n\r\nSiin\xc3\xa4 ovat kouraan tuntuvat tosiasiat. Tulemme nyt niihin ilmi\xc3\xb6ihin,\r\njotka yhtyiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen maailmasta poistumiseensa. Ilmenee, ett\xc3\xa4 Plattner\r\nopetti Sussexvillen yksityiskoulussa ei ainoastaan uusia kieli\xc3\xa4, vaan\r\nmy\xc3\xb6skin kemiaa, kauppamaantiedett\xc3\xa4, kirjanpitoa, pikakirjoitusta,\r\npiirustusta ja muutamia muita aineita, joihin poikain vanhempain\r\nvaihtelevat p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4np\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4hdykset antoivat aihetta. H\xc3\xa4n tiesi v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n tai ei\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 eri aineista, mutta opettajalle, joka ei istu\r\nylihallituksessa eik\xc3\xa4 opeta alkeiskoulussa, ei tieto olekaan l\xc3\xa4hesk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nyht\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4rke\xc3\xa4 kuin luja siveellinen luonne ja ylh\xc3\xa4inen k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xb6s. Kemiassa\r\nh\xc3\xa4n etenkin oli heikko. Omain sanainsa mukaan tunsi h\xc3\xa4n ainoastaan nuo\r\nkolme kaasua (mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n sitten lieneekin tarkoittanut). Kun oppilaat\r\nalussa eiv\xc3\xa4t tienneet mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja johtivat koko kehityksens\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4,\r\njoutui h\xc3\xa4n pulaan pitk\xc3\xa4ksi aikaa. Sitten tuli kouluun pieni\r\nWhibble-niminen poika, jonka joku ilke\xc3\xa4mielinen sukulainen oli\r\nkasvattanut mielenlaadultaan tutkivaiseksi. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 poikanen seurasi\r\nPlattnerin luentoja huomattavalla, pid\xc3\xa4tetyll\xc3\xa4 innolla ja toi usein,\r\nhaluten oleellisesti osoittaa intoaan, aineita Plattnerin\r\nanalyseerattaviksi. Plattner, joka oli mieliss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 omasi\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti el\xc3\xa4hytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n ja innostusta her\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n voiman ja samalla luotti\r\npoikain tiet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6myyteen, analyseerasi niit\xc3\xa4, tekip\xc3\xa4 yleisi\xc3\xa4 huomioita\r\nniitten kokoonpanosta. H\xc3\xa4n todellakin innostui siin\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rin, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nhankki analytist\xc3\xa4 kemiaa k\xc3\xa4sittelev\xc3\xa4n teoksen ja tutki sit\xc3\xa4 vahtiessaan\r\npoikia, jotka istuivat iltaty\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styi huomatessaan kemian\r\nkerrassaan huvittavaksi aineeksi.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n asti on kertomus aivan jokap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4inen. Mutta nyt astuu n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xb6lle\r\nvihert\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 pulveri. Vihert\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n pulverin alkuper\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lienee, paha kyll\xc3\xa4,\r\nmahdoton saada selville. Herra Whibble kertoo sekavan jutun, jossa\r\npuhutaan sen l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4misen tapahtuneen satamassa. Vanhassa kalkkiuunissa\r\nse oli ollut ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ryss\xc3\xa4. Olisi ollut erinomaista sek\xc3\xa4 Plattnerille\r\nett\xc3\xa4 hra Whibblen perheelle, jos siell\xc3\xa4 ja silloin olisi pulveriin\r\nsattunut sytytetty tulitikku. Nuori herra ei tuonut sit\xc3\xa4 kouluun\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ryn\xc3\xa4, vaan tavallisessa kahdeksan unssin l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kepullossa, jonka suu\r\noli tukittu revityll\xc3\xa4 sanomalehdell\xc3\xa4. Plattner sai sen iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4tuntien\r\nloputtua. Nelj\xc3\xa4 poikaa oli pid\xc3\xa4tetty rukousten j\xc3\xa4lkeen toimittamaan\r\njoitakin laiminly\xc3\xb6mi\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 teht\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 ja Plattner vartioi heit\xc3\xa4 pieness\xc3\xa4\r\nluokkahuoneessa, miss\xc3\xa4 kemiaa opetettiin. Ne opetusv\xc3\xa4lineet, joita\r\nSussexvillen yksityiskoulussa kuten muissakin paikkakunnan pieniss\xc3\xa4\r\nkouluissa kemian opetuksessa k\xc3\xa4ytet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ovat ankaran yksinkertaiset. Ne\r\novat kootut pienelle py\xc3\xb6re\xc3\xa4lle p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle nurkkaan. Tavalliseen\r\nmatkalaukkuun mahtuisi kaikki. Plattner, joka oli ik\xc3\xa4vystynyt\r\ntoimettomaan tarkastukseensa, tuli hyvilleen Whibblen esiintyess\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nalkoi heti tehd\xc3\xa4 analytisi\xc3\xa4 kokeitaan. Whibble istui, itselleen\r\nonneksi, turvallisen v\xc3\xa4limatkan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 katsellen Plattneria. Nuo nelj\xc3\xa4\r\npahantekij\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 seurasivat salaa h\xc3\xa4nen puuhiaan mit\xc3\xa4 innokkaimmin, ollen\r\nmuka samalla ankarasti ty\xc3\xb6h\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4 kiintynein\xc3\xa4. Kolmen kaasunkin rajoissa\r\noli Plattnerin k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llinen kemia tietysti pelottavan ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nPojat kertovat taitavan yht\xc3\xa4pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti Plattnerin menettelyn. H\xc3\xa4n kaatoi\r\nhiukan tuota viheri\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pulveria koeputkeen ja koetteli sit\xc3\xa4 per\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xa4in\r\nvedell\xc3\xa4, suolahapolla, salpietarihapolla ja rikkihapolla. Kun\r\nmink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nlaista tulosta ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt, kaatoi h\xc3\xa4n sit\xc3\xa4 hiukan --\r\ntodellisuudessa melkein puolet pullon sis\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4 -- lautaselle ja\r\nkoetti tulitikkua. L\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kepullo oli h\xc3\xa4nen vasemmassa k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Aine\r\nalkoi savuta ja sulaa ja -- r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti ankarasti pamahtaen ja sokaisevan\r\nkirkkaasti loistaen.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n leimauksen ja ollen valmiit onnettomuuksiin lyyhistyiv\xc3\xa4t\r\npojat penkkiens\xc3\xa4 alle. Kehenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n heist\xc3\xa4 ei r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdys sattunut ankarasti.\r\nPihalle p\xc3\xa4in oleva ikkuna oli rikki ja p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4 kumossa. Lautanen oli\r\nhajonnut atomeiksi. Katosta putosi rappausta. Mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n muuta vahinkoa\r\neiv\xc3\xa4t koulun rakennukset ja opetusv\xc3\xa4lineet k\xc3\xa4rsineet. Pojat, jotka\r\neiv\xc3\xa4t n\xc3\xa4hneet Plattneria, luulivat h\xc3\xa4nen lent\xc3\xa4neen lattialle ja\r\nmakaavan jossain p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n takana n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6miss\xc3\xa4. He hypp\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t\r\npaikoiltaan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 auttamaan ja h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styiv\xc3\xa4t, kun h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ei l\xc3\xb6ytynyt\r\nhuoneesta. Viel\xc3\xa4 ankaran pamauksen py\xc3\xb6rrytt\xc3\xa4min\xc3\xa4 he juoksivat avoimelle\r\novelle ajatellen, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli haavoittunut ja hy\xc3\xb6k\xc3\xa4nnyt ulos\r\nhuoneesta. Carson, etumainen, oli t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 ovessa yhteen rehtorin, mr.\r\nLidgettin kanssa.\r\n\r\nMr. Lidgett on lihava, hermostunut mies. H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on vain yksi silm\xc3\xa4.\r\nPojat kertovat h\xc3\xa4nen kompuroineen sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mutisten niit\xc3\xa4 miedonlaisia\r\nkirouksia, joita hermostuneet koulumestarit totuttavat itsens\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4yttelem\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- ettei pahempaa tapahtuisi. "Senkin v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4suu!" sanoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n. "Miss\xc3\xa4 on herra Plattner?" Pojat ovat yksimielisi\xc3\xa4 siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nsanat kuuluivat n\xc3\xa4in. ("Koipeliini", "r\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4nen\xc3\xa4-porsas" ja "v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4suu"\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t tuoneen tavallisen, v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4isen vaihtelun mr. Lidgettin\r\nkoulukeskusteluihin).\r\n\r\nMiss\xc3\xa4 on herra Plattner? T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 kysymys toistettiin moneen kertaan\r\nseuraavina p\xc3\xa4ivin\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4ytti todellakin silt\xc3\xa4, kuin tuo hullu hyperbeli\r\n"atomeiksi hajonnut" olisi yht\'\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 toteutunut. Plattnerista ei ollut\r\nj\xc3\xa4ljell\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 osaa; ei veripilkkua, ei vaateriepua miss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nN\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti oli h\xc3\xa4n vain koreasti heilahtanut pois olemassaolosta\r\nj\xc3\xa4lke\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4. Ei niin paljon ett\xc3\xa4 penni peittyisi, sananlaskua\r\nk\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ksemme. H\xc3\xa4nen t\xc3\xa4ydellinen katoamisensa on ep\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n seuraus\r\ntuosta r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdyksest\xc3\xa4, se on aivan varmaa.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ei ole tarpeen laajemmin esitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 yleist\xc3\xa4 mielenliikutusta,\r\njoka Sussexvillen yksityiskoulussa, Sussexvilless\xc3\xa4 ja muualla\r\ntapahtumaa seurasi. Onpa aivan mahdollista, ett\xc3\xa4 joku lukijoistamme voi\r\nmieleens\xc3\xa4 palauttaa viime kes\xc3\xa4n loma-aikana kuulemansa kaukaisen ja\r\nh\xc3\xa4ipyv\xc3\xa4n kaijun tuosta mieli\xc3\xa4 kuohuttavasta tapahtumasta. Lidgett\r\npuolestaan n\xc3\xa4ytti tekev\xc3\xa4n kaikkensa saadakseen asian unhottumaan ja\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6iseksi. H\xc3\xa4n m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4si kaksikymment\xc3\xa4 viisi viivaa rangaistukseksi\r\nsille nuorukaiselle, joka jotenkaan mainitsisi Plattnerin nimen, ja\r\nselitti luokalla, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n aivan hyvin tiesi assistenttinsa olinpaikan.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olleensa peloissaan, ett\xc3\xa4 r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdyksen tapahtumisen\r\nmahdollisuus, huolimatta varokeinoista, joilla kemian k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llist\xc3\xa4\r\nopetusta oli v\xc3\xa4hennetty, voisi haitallisesti vaikuttaa koulun\r\nmaineeseen. Ja samaa olisi voinut aikaansaada kaikki salaper\xc3\xa4isyys\r\nPlattnerin l\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4. Siksip\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tekikin kaikkensa saadakseen asian\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niin luonnolliselta kuin mahdollista. Etenkin h\xc3\xa4n tutki\r\nnoita viitt\xc3\xa4 silminn\xc3\xa4kij\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, pani toimeen niin ankaran ristikuulustelun,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 he alkoivat ep\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4 aistiensa selvi\xc3\xa4 todistuksia. Mutta juttu\r\nkulki, ponnistuksista huolimatta, suurenneltuna ja v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ristettyn\xc3\xa4\r\nyhdeks\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4ri maakunnan ja useat vanhemmat ottivat\r\npoikansa pois koulusta selvill\xc3\xa4 tekosyill\xc3\xa4. Kaikkein v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6isin asia\r\njutussa ei suinkaan ole se, ett\xc3\xa4 suuri joukko naapurikunnan ihmisi\xc3\xa4\r\nn\xc3\xa4ki tuona kiihoituksen aikana ennen Plattnerin palausta tavattoman\r\nselvi\xc3\xa4 unia h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 ja ett\xc3\xa4 unet olivat kummallisen yht\xc3\xa4pit\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4.\r\nUseimmissa niist\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyi Plattner, joskus seurassa, vaeltavan\r\ns\xc3\xa4teilev\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4riautereessa. Kaikissa tapauksissa olivat h\xc3\xa4nen kasvonsa\r\nkalpeat ja murheelliset ja muutamissa liikehtiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4\r\nkatsojaan p\xc3\xa4in. Yksi tai pari pojista kuvitteli, n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti painajaisen\r\nahdistamina, ett\xc3\xa4 Plattner l\xc3\xa4hestyi heit\xc3\xa4 huomattavan nopeasti ja\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti katsovan heit\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4yk\xc3\xa4sti silmiin. Toiset pakenivat Plattnerin\r\nkanssa h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 ja omituisia pallomaisia olentoja. Mutta kaikki n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\nkuvitelmat unhottuivat ja kyselyt sek\xc3\xa4 arvelut saivat sijan, kun\r\nPlattner palasi, toisena keskiviikkona maanantaista, jona r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdys\r\ntapahtui.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen palaamisensa yhdistyi yht\xc3\xa4 omituisiin seikkoihin kuin\r\nl\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4kin. Mik\xc3\xa4li voi mr. Lidgettin verrattain vihaisista\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4piirteist\xc3\xa4 Plattnerin arkailevain tiedonantojen avulla selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 saada,\r\nk\xc3\xa4y ilmi, ett\xc3\xa4 keskiviikkoiltana, auringon l\xc3\xa4hetess\xc3\xa4 laskuaan, tuo\r\nmuinainen herrasmies, j\xc3\xa4tettyh\xc3\xa4n iltatunnit sikseen, oli puutarhassaan\r\npoimimassa ja sy\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 mansikoita, joista h\xc3\xa4n erinomaisesti pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\nPuutarha on iso ja vanhanaikuinen, uteliailta silmilt\xc3\xa4 onneksi piilossa\r\nkorkean, muurivihre\xc3\xa4n peitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n punatiiliaidan takana. Juuri\r\nkumartuessaan tutkimaan er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 erinomaisen hedelm\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4 vartta, kuuli\r\nh\xc3\xa4n pamauksen ja ankaran jys\xc3\xa4hdyksen ja ennen kuin h\xc3\xa4n ehti k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nty\xc3\xa4,\r\nt\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4neen takaap\xc3\xa4in jokin raskas esine ankaran voimakkaasti. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nheilahti eteenp\xc3\xa4in, mansikat kourassa murskaantuivat ja t\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ys yleens\xc3\xa4\r\noli niin voimallinen, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen silkkihattunsa -- mr. Lidgett on\r\nrauhansuunnan puoltaja koulumiesten vaatetukseen n\xc3\xa4hden -- ty\xc3\xb6ntyi\r\n\xc3\xa4kisti otsalle, jopa toisen silm\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle. Tuo raskas heittoase, joka\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 vinosti satuttaen l\xc3\xa4s\xc3\xa4hti istuvaan asentoon mansikan vartten\r\nsekaan, osoittautui kauvan sitten kadonneeksi herra Gottfried\r\nPlattneriksemme. H\xc3\xa4n oli erinomaisessa ep\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rjestyksess\xc3\xa4, ilman hattua,\r\nilman kaulusta, paita likainen ja k\xc3\xa4det veress\xc3\xa4. Mr. Lidgett oli niin\r\nvihoissaan ja h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynyt, ett\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4i asentoonsa nelinry\xc3\xb6min, lakki\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, samalla kiivaasti vaatien Plattneria tilille ep\xc3\xa4hienosta\r\nja ihmeellisest\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytymisest\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 tuskin idyllim\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytelm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ydent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 se, mit\xc3\xa4 tahtoisin\r\nnimitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 Plattnerjutun ulkonaiseksi ilmaisuksi -- sen julkinen\r\nk\xc3\xa4sittely. On turhaa aivan seikkaper\xc3\xa4isesti selvitell\xc3\xa4, miten Mr.\r\nLidgett h\xc3\xa4net erotti virastaan. Aivan tarkat tiedot, t\xc3\xa4ydelliset nimet\r\nja osoitukset l\xc3\xb6ytyv\xc3\xa4t siin\xc3\xa4 laajassa kertomuksessa, joka syntyi asiaa\r\nk\xc3\xa4sitelt\xc3\xa4iss\xc3\xa4 "Yhdistyksess\xc3\xa4 ep\xc3\xa4normaalien ilmi\xc3\xb6itten selville\r\nsaamiseksi." Plattnerin oikean ja vasemman puolen omituinen vaihdos\r\nhuomattiin vasta h\xc3\xa4nen kirjoittaessaan oikealta vasemmalle. H\xc3\xa4n\r\npikemmin salasi kuin toi ilmi t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n omituisen vahvistavan asiainhaaran,\r\nluullen sen vaikuttavan ep\xc3\xa4edullisesti uuden viran saantiin. Syd\xc3\xa4men\r\nasema tuli ilmi muutamia kuukausia j\xc3\xa4lemmin, kun h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4 kiskottiin\r\npois hammas, jonka hermot oli huumattu.\r\n\r\nSilloin h\xc3\xa4n hyvin vastenmielisesti suostui pikaiseen kirurgiseen\r\ntutkintoon, jonka tuloksista piti lyhyesti tehd\xc3\xa4 selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 _Anatomisessa\r\nAikakirjassa_. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 selonteko sis\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kaikki materialiset tosiasiat;\r\nnyt me siirrymme tarkastamaan Plattnerin kertomusta asiasta.\r\n\r\nMutta tehk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4mme ensiksi selv\xc3\xa4ksi ero t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n kertomuksen edellisen ja nyt\r\nseuraavan osan v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4. Kaikki, mit\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n saakka olen kertonut on niin\r\nilmeisesti totta, ett\xc3\xa4 rikoksia tutkiva lainoppinutkin sen uskoisi.\r\nKaikki todistajat ovat viel\xc3\xa4 elossa. Lukija voi, jos h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on\r\nvapaa-aikaa, kutsua pojat huomenna kokoon, tosin uhmaten pelottavaa\r\nLidgetti\xc3\xa4, ja ristikuulustella sanoissa solmita ja tutkistella heit\xc3\xa4,\r\nmiten paljon mieli halajaa; Gottfried Plattnerin itse, h\xc3\xa4nen s\xc3\xa4rkyneen\r\nsyd\xc3\xa4mens\xc3\xa4 ja kolme valokuvaansa voi my\xc3\xb6skin saada k\xc3\xa4siins\xc3\xa4. Voi pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\ntoteenn\xc3\xa4ytettyn\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdyksen vaikutuksesta katosi yhdeks\xc3\xa4ksi\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ksi, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n palasi verrattain kiivaasti, olosuhteitten\r\nvallitessa, jotka luonnostaan olivat omiaan suututtamaan mr. Lidgetti\xc3\xa4,\r\nmillaisia nuo suhteet sitten lienev\xc3\xa4tkin olleet, ja ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n palasi\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnettyn\xc3\xa4 kuten heijastus palajaa peilist\xc3\xa4. Viimeisest\xc3\xa4\r\ntodentamastani seikasta seuraa melkoisen varmasti, ett\xc3\xa4 Plattner noina\r\nyhdeks\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 oli jossain olomuodossa meid\xc3\xa4n avaruutemme\r\nulkopuolella. N\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 todeksihavaitsemiset ovat itse asiassa paljon\r\nvarmempia kuin todistukset useata murhasta hirtetty\xc3\xa4 vastaan. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\noman kertomuksensa todenper\xc3\xa4isyydest\xc3\xa4 ja melkein ristiriitaisista\r\nyksityisseikoista vastaa yksin herra Gottfried Plattner itse. Min\xc3\xa4 en\r\nhalua kertomusta ep\xc3\xa4ill\xc3\xa4, mutta min\xc3\xa4 tahdon huomauttaa -- seikka, jonka\r\nmonet h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xa4 sielullisista ilmi\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4 kertoilevat kirjailijat\r\nj\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t tekem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 -- ett\xc3\xa4 olemme t\xc3\xa4ten siirtym\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 yksinkertaisen\r\neitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 siihen lajiin asioita, jotka jokaisen selv\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4rkisen\r\nihmisen tulee joko uskoa tai olla uskomatta. Edell\xc3\xa4 olleet huomiot\r\ntekev\xc3\xa4t sen mahdolliseksi; sen ristiriitaisuus k\xc3\xa4yt\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llisen\r\nkokemuksen kanssa saa sen n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mahdottomalta. Min\xc3\xa4 en tahdo\r\nlukijan arvostelukyvyn valoa johtaa kumpaankaan suuntaan, kerronhan\r\nvaan tarinan sellaisena, kuin sen Plattnerilta kuulin.\r\n\r\nVoin mainita, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n kertoi asian minulle kotonani Chislehurstissa ja\r\nett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 heti h\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4hdetty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n menin ty\xc3\xb6huoneeseeni ja kirjoitin\r\njutun niin t\xc3\xa4ydellisesti, kuin muistin. My\xc3\xb6hemmin h\xc3\xa4n hyv\xc3\xa4ntahtoisesti\r\nluki l\xc3\xa4pi konekirjoitetun kappaleen, joten se oleellisesti on varmasti\r\noikea.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kertoi r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdyksen hetkell\xc3\xa4 selv\xc3\xa4sti luulleensa kuolevansa. H\xc3\xa4n\r\ntunsi kohoavansa ja ty\xc3\xb6ntyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 -- voimallisesti taaksep\xc3\xa4in.\r\nPsykologille huomattava tosiseikka on, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n taaksep\xc3\xa4in ty\xc3\xb6ntyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti ajatteli, t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4isik\xc3\xb6 h\xc3\xa4n kemiatavarain p\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tai toisen\r\np\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4n jalkaan. H\xc3\xa4nen jalkapohjansa sattuivat lattiaan ja h\xc3\xa4n putosi\r\nhyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vauhtia istumaan jonnekin pehme\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja turvalliseen paikkaan.\r\nT\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ys huumasi h\xc3\xa4net hetkiseksi. Yht\'\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n haistoi selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\npalaneen tukan hajua ja tuntui silt\xc3\xa4, kuin Lidgettin \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni olisi\r\ntiedustanut h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4tte kyll\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4rkens\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 hetkell\xc3\xa4\r\noli aikalailla sekasin.\r\n\r\nEnsiksikin h\xc3\xa4n sai sen selv\xc3\xa4n vaikutelman ett\xc3\xa4 oli viel\xc3\xa4\r\nluokkahuoneessa. H\xc3\xa4n tajusi aivan kirkkaasti poikain h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styksen ja\r\nmr. Lidgettin sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntulon. T\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 kaikesta on h\xc3\xa4n vallan varma. Heid\xc3\xa4n\r\nhuomautuksiaan h\xc3\xa4n ei kuullut.\r\n\r\nMutta siihen arveli h\xc3\xa4n olleen syyn\xc3\xa4 kokeen kuuloa heikent\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\nvaikutuksen. Esineet h\xc3\xa4nen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4kyiv\xc3\xa4t omituisen h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4sti ja\r\nep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti, mutta h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4rkens\xc3\xa4 selitti asian varmasti joskin\r\nerehdytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti siten, ett\xc3\xa4 r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdys oli synnytt\xc3\xa4nyt suuren m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n\r\nmustaa savua. H\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ryydess\xc3\xa4 liikkuivat pojat ja Lidgett niin hiljaa ja\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4 kuin haamut. Plattnerin kasvoja viel\xc3\xa4 kirveli r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdyksen\r\nsynnytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 polttava kuumuus. H\xc3\xa4n oli, kuten itse sanoi, "aivan\r\nsumussa." H\xc3\xa4nen ensim\xc3\xa4iset todelliset ajatuksensa n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t koskeneen\r\nomaa personallista turvallisuuttaan. H\xc3\xa4n arveli mahdollisesti\r\nmenett\xc3\xa4neens\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xb6n ja kuulon. H\xc3\xa4n koetteli huolellisesti j\xc3\xa4seni\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja\r\nkasvojaan. Sitten aistimukset selvisiv\xc3\xa4t ja h\xc3\xa4n oli ihmeiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kun ei\r\nn\xc3\xa4hnytk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vanhoja tuttuja p\xc3\xb6yti\xc3\xa4 ja muita kouluhuoneen tavaroita\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4, ep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4, harmaita haamuja oli vain niitten\r\nsijalla. Sitten seurasi jotain joka sai h\xc3\xa4net \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neen huutamaan ja\r\nvirvotti hetkiseksi h\xc3\xa4nen puutuneita kykyj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. _Kaksi pojista kulki,\r\nk\xc3\xa4si\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n liikutellen, suoraan h\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4vitsens\xc3\xa4!_ Kumpikaan ei n\xc3\xa4kynyt\r\ntiet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4sn\xc3\xa4olostaan. On vaikea kuvailla h\xc3\xa4nen\r\ntunteitaan. Pojat koskivat h\xc3\xa4neen niin hiljaa kuin harva sumupilvi.\r\n\r\nPlattnerin ensi ajatus oli nyt, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli kuollut. Vaikka h\xc3\xa4n olikin\r\nsaanut aivan terveet k\xc3\xa4sitykset asiasta, tuntui h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 kumminkin\r\nhiukan omituiselta l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n viel\xc3\xa4 ruumiinsa ymp\xc3\xa4rilt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4nen\r\ntoinen ajatuksensa sanoi, ettei h\xc3\xa4n ollut kuollut, vaan nuo toiset,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hdys oli h\xc3\xa4vitt\xc3\xa4nyt Sussexvillen yksityiskoulun ja jokainoan\r\nsielun siin\xc3\xa4 paitsi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei ollut oikein riitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\r\nselvitys. H\xc3\xa4n sai j\xc3\xa4lleen h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 katseltavaa.\r\n\r\nKaikki oli tavattoman mustaa; ensiksi n\xc3\xa4ytti pimeys\r\neboniittikiiltoiselta. Yl\xc3\xa4puolella oli tumma taivas. N\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xb6n ainoa\r\nvalopilkku oli er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pilven reunasta l\xc3\xa4htev\xc3\xa4 heikosti vihert\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 hehku,\r\njoka sai n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sinisen\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n vuorisen taivaanrannan. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nensi vaikutelma. Silm\xc3\xa4in tottuessa pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n alkoi erottaa\r\nep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4isen vihreyden, joka erosi ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 y\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4. T\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 pohjaa\r\nvasten n\xc3\xa4kyiv\xc3\xa4t luokkahuoneen esineet ja ihmiset fosforiloistoisina,\r\nep\xc3\xa4selvin\xc3\xa4 ja k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4 haamuina. H\xc3\xa4n ojensi k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4. Se meni\r\nilman vaivaa huoneen sein\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4pi tulisijan luona.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n sanoo kiivaasti ponnistelleensa saadakseen huomion puoleensa. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nhuusi Lidgetti\xc3\xa4 ja koetti tarttua poikiin heid\xc3\xa4n edestakaisin\r\nkulkiessaan. H\xc3\xa4n herkesi n\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4 yrityksist\xc3\xa4 vasta, kun rouva Lidgett,\r\njota h\xc3\xa4n (apuopettajana) luonnollisesti vihasi, astui huoneeseen. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nsanoo, ett\xc3\xa4 tunne maailmaan kuulumisesta saamatta olla sen osana oli\r\nerinomaisen ep\xc3\xa4mieluinen. H\xc3\xa4n vertasi jotenkin sattuvasti tuntemuksiaan\r\nkissan tunteisiin, sen tarkastellessa lasin l\xc3\xa4pi hiiren liikkeit\xc3\xa4. Kun\r\nh\xc3\xa4n yritti saada selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, tutusta maailmasta ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\ntuntui n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6n, k\xc3\xa4siinsaamaton aitaus est\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n yhteytt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSitten h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi huomionsa l\xc3\xa4himp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ymp\xc3\xa4rist\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4. L\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kepullo\r\npulverij\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6ksineen oli h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 viel\xc3\xa4 ehe\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n pisti sen\r\ntaskuunsa ja alkoi tunnustella seutua. H\xc3\xa4n oli n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti istumassa\r\nkallionlohkareella, jota peitti sametinpehme\xc3\xa4 sammal. Pime\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 seutua\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n ei n\xc3\xa4hnyt, sumunsekainen luokkahuoneen kuva painoi sen\r\naivan ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4ksi. H\xc3\xa4n tunsi kuitenkin (ehk\xc3\xa4 sent\xc3\xa4hden ett\xc3\xa4 kylm\xc3\xa4 tuuli\r\npuhalsi) olevansa l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 jonkun vuoren huippua. Syv\xc3\xa4 laakso tuntui\r\nammottavan jalkain alla. Pilven reunalla kimaltava vihreys n\xc3\xa4ytti\r\nlaajenevan ja kirkastuvan. H\xc3\xa4n nousi seisomaan ja hierasi silmi\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sitten kulkeneen muutaman askeleen kukkulan rinnett\xc3\xa4\r\nalasp\xc3\xa4in, kompastuneen, olleen v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kaatua ja taas istahtaneen\r\nter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4lle kivil\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4lle odottamaan p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nkoittoa. H\xc3\xa4n havaitsi maailman\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olevan aivan vaiti. Oli yht\xc3\xa4 hiljaista kuin pime\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4kin ja\r\nvaikka kylm\xc3\xa4 tuuli puhalsi kukkulan rinteell\xc3\xa4 ei kuulunut ruohon\r\nkahinaa eik\xc3\xa4 oksain suhinaa. H\xc3\xa4n voi siis kuulla, vaikkei n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nse puoli kukkulaa, miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n istui, oli kivinen ja autio. Vihre\xc3\xa4 valo\r\nyh\xc3\xa4 kirkastui ja samalla heikko, l\xc3\xa4pikuultava purppura levisi\r\nyl\xc3\xa4puolella oleviin pilviin ja ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kallioiseen er\xc3\xa4maahan\r\nvoimatta kuitenkaan niitten pimeytt\xc3\xa4 hajottaa. Pit\xc3\xa4en silm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4,\r\nmik\xc3\xa4 seurasi, olen taipuisa uskomaan, ett\xc3\xa4 purppuravalo johtui\r\noptillisesta kontrasti-ilmi\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4. Jotain sinist\xc3\xa4 aaltoili samalla\r\nalemman pilven kellanvihre\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja syvyydest\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen allaan kuului kirkas\r\nkellon\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni. Rasittava odotus kasvoi rinnakkain valon kanssa.\r\n\r\nOn luultavaa ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n istui siin\xc3\xa4 tunnin tai enemm\xc3\xa4nkin, tuon omituisen\r\nvihre\xc3\xa4n valon yh\xc3\xa4 kirkastuessa ja levitess\xc3\xa4 loistoina lieskoina\r\nkeskitaivasta kohti. Sen kasvaessa tuo spektralin\xc3\xa4ky _meid\xc3\xa4n_\r\nmaailmastamme tuli joko suhteellisesti taikka todellisesti heikommaksi.\r\nMahdollisesti molemminkin tavoin, sill\xc3\xa4 hetki n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 olleen meid\xc3\xa4n\r\nmaallisen auringonlaskumme tienoissa. Meid\xc3\xa4n maailmamme n\xc3\xa4in kadotessa\r\nkulki Plattner, astumalla muutaman askeleen kukkulanrinnett\xc3\xa4 alasp\xc3\xa4in,\r\nl\xc3\xa4pi luokkahuoneen lattian ja tunsi nyt istuvansa ilmassa keskell\xc3\xa4\r\nalakerran isompaa opetussalia. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki oppilaat selv\xc3\xa4sti, joskaan ei\r\nniin hyvin, kuin oli n\xc3\xa4hnyt Lidgettin. Oppilaat valmistelivat\r\niltal\xc3\xa4ksyj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja Plattnerilla oli ilo havaita, miten muutamat heist\xc3\xa4\r\ntekiv\xc3\xa4t Euklideestaan salaisia selvittelyj\xc3\xa4, tietokokoelmia, joiden\r\nolemassaolosta ei h\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n asti ollut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tiennyt. Kuva h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4rtyi\r\nhetki hetkell\xc3\xa4, samalla kun viheri\xc3\xa4 koitto kirkastui.\r\n\r\nKatsahtaessaan alas laaksoon havaitsi h\xc3\xa4n valon liukuneen syv\xc3\xa4lle sen\r\nkallioisia seini\xc3\xa4 pitkin. Rotkon syv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pimeytt\xc3\xa4 yritti nyt l\xc3\xa4vist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\npieni viheri\xc3\xa4 hehku, kiiltomadon loiston tapainen. Ja aivan samassa\r\nkohosi kaukaisten basaltti-aaltoisten kukkulain yli ison hehkuvan\r\nviheri\xc3\xa4n taivaankappaleen reuna. Suuret kalliojoukkiot sen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\r\nmuuttuivat surullisen autioiksi, niille loi viheri\xc3\xa4 valo syvi\xc3\xa4 punervan\r\nmustia varjoja. H\xc3\xa4n sai n\xc3\xa4kyviins\xc3\xa4 ison joukon pallomaisia esineit\xc3\xa4,\r\njotka liiteliv\xc3\xa4t ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kuin voikukan siemenvillat. L\xc3\xa4himm\xc3\xa4t niist\xc3\xa4\r\nolivat kuilun toisella reunalla. Syvyyden kello kilisi yh\xc3\xa4 nopeammin,\r\nik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin k\xc3\xa4rsim\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja erilaisia valov\xc3\xa4ikkeit\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyi siell\xc3\xa4\r\nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4. Pojat p\xc3\xb6ytineen olivat nyt aivan n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6miss\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 omituista seikkaa, ett\xc3\xa4 meid\xc3\xa4n maailmamme h\xc3\xa4visi toisen\r\nuniversumin viheri\xc3\xa4n auringon noustessa, v\xc3\xa4itt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 Plattner ehdottomasti\r\ntodeksi. Y\xc3\xb6n vallitessa tuossa toisessa maailmassa on siell\xc3\xa4 vaikea\r\nliikkua siksi, ett\xc3\xa4 meid\xc3\xa4n maailmamme n\xc3\xa4kyy niin kirkkaana.\r\nArvoitukseksi j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, miksi emme n\xc3\xa4in ollen n\xc3\xa4e vilaustakaan toisesta\r\nmaailmasta. Se johtuu ehk\xc3\xa4 meid\xc3\xa4n maailmamme verrattain paljon\r\nkirkkaammasta valaistuksesta. Plattner kertoo, ett\xc3\xa4 toinen maailma\r\npuolenp\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n aikaan, kirkkaimmillaan, ei ole l\xc3\xa4hesk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niin valoisa\r\nkuin t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 maailma t\xc3\xa4ysikuun hohteessa. Y\xc3\xb6 taas on nokipime\xc3\xa4. Kumminkin\r\npit\xc3\xa4isi toisen maailman esineitten n\xc3\xa4ky\xc3\xa4 pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 huoneessa saman\r\ns\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6n nojalla, jonka mukaan heikko fosforiloiste n\xc3\xa4kyy ainoastaan\r\nsynk\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 pimeydess\xc3\xa4. Plattnerin kerrottua t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n tarinan koetin min\xc3\xa4\r\nsaada jotakin selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tuosta toisesta maailmasta istumalla pitk\xc3\xa4n ajan\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n valokuvaajan pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 huoneessa y\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4in tosin ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\nvihert\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 rinteit\xc3\xa4 ja kallioita, mutta minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy sanoa, ett\xc3\xa4 ne\r\ntodellakin olivat hyvin h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4. Lukijalla voi olla parempi onni.\r\nPlattner kertoi minulle, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n palauksensa j\xc3\xa4lkeen on unessa n\xc3\xa4hnyt\r\nja tuntenut samoiksi erin\xc3\xa4isi\xc3\xa4 paikkoja toisesta maailmasta, mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\njohtunee siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4hdyt maisemat ovat j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4neet h\xc3\xa4nen muistiinsa.\r\nN\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 aivan mahdolliselta, ett\xc3\xa4 erinomaisen ter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6iset ihmiset\r\nvoivat vilaukselta n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 tuon ihmeellisen, meit\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4n vieraan\r\nmaailman.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on joka tapauksessa asiasta poikkeamista. Viheri\xc3\xa4n auringon\r\nnoustessa sukelsi syvyydest\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kyviin pitk\xc3\xa4 rivi tummia rakennuksia.\r\nNe n\xc3\xa4kyiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4sti ja ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti. Hetken ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6ity\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Piattner\r\nalkoi vaeltaa niit\xc3\xa4 kohti, laskeutuen jyrkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 rinnett\xc3\xa4 alasp\xc3\xa4in.\r\nLaskeutuminen oli pitk\xc3\xa4llist\xc3\xa4 ja v\xc3\xa4sytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Siihen vaikutti, paitsi\r\nsein\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n tavatonta jyrkkyytt\xc3\xa4, se, ett\xc3\xa4 pitkin kukkulan rinnett\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nirtonaisia vierinkivi\xc3\xa4 suurin joukoin. Alaskapuamisesta johtuva h\xc3\xa4ly --\r\nsilloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in tempasivat h\xc3\xa4nen kenk\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 tulen kivist\xc3\xa4 -- tuntui\r\nolevan ainoa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni koko maailmankaikkeudessa, sill\xc3\xa4 kellon kilin\xc3\xa4 oli\r\ntauonnut. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4stess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi h\xc3\xa4n huomasi ett\xc3\xa4 muutamat\r\nrakennuksista omituisesti muistuttivat hautoja, hautapatsaita ja\r\nmausoleoita, paitsi siin\xc3\xa4 suhteessa, ett\xc3\xa4 olivat kaikki yht\xc3\xa4 mustia.\r\nHautarakennuksethan ovat yleens\xc3\xa4 valkosia. Ja sitten h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki\r\nsuurimmasta rakennuksesta ry\xc3\xb6miv\xc3\xa4n ulos ison joukon kalpeita, py\xc3\xb6reit\xc3\xa4,\r\nvaaleankeltaisia olentoja. Ne hajaantuivat kuin kirkkov\xc3\xa4ki eri suuntiin\r\ntuolta leve\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 kadulta. Muutamat kulkivat sivukatuja ja tulivat\r\nj\xc3\xa4lleen n\xc3\xa4kyviin kukkulan rinteell\xc3\xa4, toiset meniv\xc3\xa4t tien varrella\r\noleviin mustiin rakennuksiin.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4hdess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n olentojen kulkevan yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in, h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti, Piattner pys\xc3\xa4htyi\r\nh\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4styneen\xc3\xa4. Ne eiv\xc3\xa4t k\xc3\xa4velleet, jalattomia kun olivat ja n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nihmisp\xc3\xa4ilt\xc3\xa4, joihin liittyi lierahteleva h\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4llisen sammakonpojan\r\nruumis. Piattner oli niin ihmeiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n niitten omituisesta ulkon\xc3\xa4\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4,\r\nettei osannut oikein s\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in puhaltava kylm\xc3\xa4 tuuli kuljetti\r\nniit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti kuin saippuakuplia. Ja kun etumainen niist\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nkyllin l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4, niin h\xc3\xa4n huomasi sen todellakin olevan ihmisp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nTavattoman suuret silm\xc3\xa4t sill\xc3\xa4 tosin oli ja niin murheinen ja tuskainen\r\nmuoto, ettei Piattner ollut sen vertaista kuolevaisella kohdannut.\r\nKummallista oli, ettei se k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntynyt h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 katsomaan, vaan n\xc3\xa4ytti\r\npit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n silm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ja seuraavan jotakin n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4, liikkuvaa esinett\xc3\xa4.\r\nHetkisen oli Piattner aivan ymm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, mutta sitten h\xc3\xa4nen mieleens\xc3\xa4\r\njohtui, ett\xc3\xa4 olento suurine silmineen tarkasti jotakin tapahtumaa siin\xc3\xa4\r\nmaailmassa, josta h\xc3\xa4n oli juuri tullut. Yh\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi se tuli ja\r\nPiattner oli liian h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stynyt voidakseen huutaa. Tultuaan aivan h\xc3\xa4neen\r\nkiinni antoi se heikon rapisevan \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen. Sitten se sattui hiljaa\r\nkoskettaen h\xc3\xa4nen kasvoihinsa -- kylm\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 se tuntui -- ja kulki edelleen\r\nvuoren rinnett\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in, huippua kohti.\r\n\r\nPlattnerin mielen t\xc3\xa4ytti erinomaisen vankka vakaumus siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 tuo\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 omituisesti muistutti Lidgetti\xc3\xa4. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n alkoi tarkastaa toisia\r\np\xc3\xa4it\xc3\xa4, jotka nyt tihe\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 parvessa nousivat rinnett\xc3\xa4. Yksik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4nyt ollenkaan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 huomaavan. Pari niist\xc3\xa4 tosin tuli aivan h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nkasvoilleen ja seurasi ensim\xc3\xa4isen esimerkki\xc3\xa4, mutta h\xc3\xa4n hyp\xc3\xa4hti\r\nsyrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kuin olisi saanut suonenvedon. Useimmat niist\xc3\xa4 olivat\r\nmuodoltaan yht\xc3\xa4 murheellisia kuin ensim\xc3\xa4inenkin ja yht\xc3\xa4 haikeasti ne\r\n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xa4hteliv\xc3\xa4t. Pari niist\xc3\xa4 kyynelteli ja yhdell\xc3\xa4, joka hitaasti kieri\r\nyl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in, oli muodossaan helvetillisen raivon ilme. Muut olivat kylmi\xc3\xa4\r\nja joittenkin silmist\xc3\xa4 loisti iloinen tyytyv\xc3\xa4isyys. Vihdoin oli yksi,\r\njonka onnen huumaus oli vallannut. Plattner ei muista muita\r\nyht\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4isyyksi\xc3\xa4 huomanneensa n\xc3\xa4iss\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4kemiss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nKului luultavasti useita tuntia Plattnerin katsellessa, miten nuo\r\nomituiset olennot hajaantuivat kukkuloille. Pian senj\xc3\xa4lkeen kun niitten\r\nkuilun pohjan tummasta rakennusryhm\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 tuleva virta oli lakannut,\r\nalkoi Plattner uudelleen kulkea alasp\xc3\xa4in. Pimeys h\xc3\xa4nen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nkasvoi niin, ett\xc3\xa4 oli hyvin vaikea astua. Taivas oli nyt kalpean\r\nviheri\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen ei ollut n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 jano. My\xc3\xb6hemmin, kun n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 vaivat\r\ntulivat, l\xc3\xb6ysi h\xc3\xa4n kuilun keskelt\xc3\xa4 kylm\xc3\xa4n puron ja kallion pehme\xc3\xa4\r\nsammal, kun h\xc3\xa4n siihen ep\xc3\xa4toivoisena ryhtyi, oli hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sy\xc3\xb6d\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n haparoi kuilun hautojen keskess\xc3\xa4, etsien itsetiedottomasti\r\njotain selvityst\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ihin salaper\xc3\xa4isiin asioihin. Kauvan harhailtuaan\r\ntuli h\xc3\xa4n sen ison, mausoleon tapaisen rakennuksen ovelle, josta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\r\nolivat tulleet ulos. Sen sis\xc3\xa4puolelta h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xb6ysi jonkunmoisen\r\nbasalttialttarin, jolla paloi joukko vihreit\xc3\xa4 valoja. Yl\xc3\xa4puolella\r\nkohoavasta tornista riippui kellonauha keskell\xc3\xa4 huonetta. Pitkin sein\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nkulki tulikirjoitus, josta h\xc3\xa4n ei saanut selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Viel\xc3\xa4 ihmetelless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4itten kaikkien merkityst\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n kuuli poisp\xc3\xa4in kulkevain raskasten\r\naskelten \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen kadulta. H\xc3\xa4n juoksi pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mutta ei n\xc3\xa4hnyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n\r\noli aikeissa kiskaista kellonnuorasta ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti lopuksi seurata\r\naskeleita. Mutta juostenkaan ei h\xc3\xa4n niit\xc3\xa4 saavuttanut, eik\xc3\xa4 huutaminen\r\nhy\xc3\xb6dytt\xc3\xa4nyt mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Kuilu n\xc3\xa4ytti \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n laajalta. Siell\xc3\xa4 oli\r\npime\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 kuin maallisen t\xc3\xa4htitaivaan alla, kun taas sen korkeimpain\r\nhuippujen yli levisi aavemainen, vihre\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4. Alhaalla ei nyt ollut\r\nyht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4. Ne n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t kaikki olevan ankarassa puuhassa ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4.\r\nKatsoessaan yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in h\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki niitten ajelehtivan sinne t\xc3\xa4nne, toisten\r\nhitaasti leijaillen, toisten nopeassa lennossa. Ne muistuttivat, sanoi\r\nh\xc3\xa4n, "isoja lumihiuteita", olivat vaan mustia ja vaalean vihreit\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nPlattner arvelee menett\xc3\xa4neens\xc3\xa4 isomman osan seitsem\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 tai kahdeksasta\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 seuratessaan noita varmoja, s\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6llisi\xc3\xa4, saavuttamattomia\r\naskeleita, haparoidessaan yh\xc3\xa4 uusiin seutuihin tuossa loputtomassa\r\npaholaisen haudassa, kiipeilless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xb6s ja alas armottomia kallioita,\r\nvaeltaessaan huipuilla ja tarkastaessaan sinne t\xc3\xa4nne liikkuvia muotoja.\r\nTarkkaa laskua ei h\xc3\xa4n sano pit\xc3\xa4neens\xc3\xa4. Vaikka h\xc3\xa4n pari kertaa tunsi\r\nsilm\xc3\xa4in vartioitsevan itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ei h\xc3\xa4n saanut sanaakaan vaihtaa el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\r\nolennon kanssa. H\xc3\xa4n nukkui kivien keskess\xc3\xa4 kukkulan rinteell\xc3\xa4. Kuilussa\r\neiv\xc3\xa4t esineet olleet n\xc3\xa4kyv\xc3\xa4iset, sill\xc3\xa4 maalliselta kannalta katsoen\r\noltiin syv\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4kin maan alla. Huipulta n\xc3\xa4kyi maailma kohta, kun\r\nmaallinen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 oli alullaan. Joskus h\xc3\xa4n oli kompuroimassa\r\ntummanvihre\xc3\xa4in lohkareitten keskess\xc3\xa4 tai pys\xc3\xa4htyi \xc3\xa4kkijyrk\xc3\xa4lle kuilun\r\npartaalle, Sussexvillen puistikkojen vihre\xc3\xa4in oksain huojuessa h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Toisinaan taas tuntui kuin h\xc3\xa4n kulkisi Sussexvillen katuja\r\ntai tarkastelisi n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 jonkun perheen yksityisasioita. Ja\r\nsitten h\xc3\xa4n huomasi, ett\xc3\xa4 kuhunkin ihmisolentoon meid\xc3\xa4n maailmassamme\r\nkuuluu yksi noista liitelevist\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4ist\xc3\xa4: ett\xc3\xa4 jokaista t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n maailman\r\nasukasta tarkkaa aika ajoin joku noista avuttomista ruumiittomuuksista.\r\n\r\nMit\xc3\xa4 ne ovat -- nuo el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n tarkastelijat? Sit\xc3\xa4 ei Plattner saanut\r\nselville. Mutta kaksi niist\xc3\xa4, jotka h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t seuraamaan, olivat\r\nkuin lapsuusmuisto is\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 ja \xc3\xa4idist\xc3\xa4. Silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in toisetkin kasvot\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4neen p\xc3\xa4in; niitten silm\xc3\xa4t muistuttivat kuolleita ihmisi\xc3\xa4,\r\njotka olivat h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 johtaneet, loukanneet tai auttaneet nuoruudessa ja\r\nmiehuusvuosina. Aina kun ne Plattneriin katsoivat, valtasi h\xc3\xa4net\r\nomituinen vastuunalaisuuden tunne. \xc3\x84idilleen h\xc3\xa4n uskalsi puhua, mutta\r\nei saanut vastausta. \xc3\x84iti katsoi suruisesti, vakavasti ja lempe\xc3\xa4sti --\r\nhiukan moittivastikin, kuten n\xc3\xa4ytti -- h\xc3\xa4nen silmiins\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n vain yksinkertaisesti kertoo tarinansa yritt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4.\r\nMe saamme siis arvata, keit\xc3\xa4 nuo el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n katselijat ovat. Ja jos heid\xc3\xa4n\r\nolemuksensa todellakin on kuolema, t\xc3\xa4ytyy kysy\xc3\xa4 miksi he niin tarkkaan\r\nja innokkaasti pit\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t silm\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 maailmaa, jonka ovat ij\xc3\xa4ksi j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4neet.\r\nVoi olla -- minusta n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 todenn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6iselt\xc3\xa4 -- ett\xc3\xa4 el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4mme\r\nsammuttua, kun ei meill\xc3\xa4 ole en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 valittavana hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tai pahaa, meid\xc3\xa4n\r\nviel\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4ytyy katsella, miten meist\xc3\xa4 johtuvain syitten ja seurausten\r\nketju jatkuu. Jos ihmissielut el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t kuoleman j\xc3\xa4lkeen, niin\r\ninhimilliset pyrkimykset varmasti el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t niitten mukana. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on\r\nminun oma arveluni n\xc3\xa4hdyist\xc3\xa4 asioista. Plattner ei anna mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nselityst\xc3\xa4, sill\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n ei p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt ollenkaan selville. On hyv\xc3\xa4, jos lukija\r\nselv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tajuaa t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n seikan. P\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n vaelteli p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n toisensa\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeen tuossa ihmevaloisessa maailmassa meid\xc3\xa4n maailmamme\r\nulkopuolella. Lopulta h\xc3\xa4n jo oli v\xc3\xa4synyt, heikko ja n\xc3\xa4lk\xc3\xa4inen. P\xc3\xa4ivisin\r\n-- nimitt\xc3\xa4in meid\xc3\xa4n maallisen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n aikaan -- tuo vanha tuttu\r\nhenkin\xc3\xa4yn tapainen kuva Sussexvillesta h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kiusasi ja suututti. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nei n\xc3\xa4hnyt omia jalkojaan ja silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in joku noista t\xc3\xa4hystelevist\xc3\xa4\r\nsieluista lehahti kylm\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 vasten h\xc3\xa4nen kasvojaan. Ja pime\xc3\xa4n aikaan\r\nnoitten tarkastelijain paljous ja heid\xc3\xa4n syv\xc3\xa4 murheensa saivat h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nsielunsa sanomattomasti sekaisin. H\xc3\xa4neen hiipi palava halu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4\r\nj\xc3\xa4lleen tuohon maalliseen el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, joka oli niin l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 ja kuitenkin\r\nniin kaukana. H\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4in esineitten ep\xc3\xa4maallisuus sai h\xc3\xa4net\r\ntodellakin murheelliseen mielentilaan. H\xc3\xa4n oli kiukuissaan kuvatessaan\r\nomia seuralaisiaan. H\xc3\xa4n huusi niille, ett\xc3\xa4 lakkaisivat h\xc3\xa4neen\r\ntuijottelemasta, h\xc3\xa4n haukkui niit\xc3\xa4, koetti juosta pakoon. Ne olivat\r\nyht\xc3\xa4 mykki\xc3\xa4 ja tarkkaavaisia. Miten h\xc3\xa4n juoksikin ep\xc3\xa4tasaista tienoota,\r\naina ne olivat h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nYhdeks\xc3\xa4nten\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4, iltapuolella, Plattner kuuli noitten\r\nn\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4in askelten l\xc3\xa4hestyv\xc3\xa4n kaukaa rotkosta p\xc3\xa4in. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\nkulkemassa saman leve\xc3\xa4n kukkulan yli, jolle h\xc3\xa4n oli pudonnut\r\nsaapuessaan tuohon ihmeelliseen toiseen-maailmaansa. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi\r\njuostakseen alas laaksoon ja oli juuri haparoiden hakemassa tiet\xc3\xa4, kun\r\nh\xc3\xa4net pys\xc3\xa4ytti n\xc3\xa4ky. Se oli tapahtuma er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 huoneesta koulun\r\nl\xc3\xa4heisyydess\xc3\xa4 olevan pikkukadun varrella. H\xc3\xa4n tunsi n\xc3\xa4\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4 molemmat\r\nhuoneessa olijat. Ikkunat olivat auki, verhot ylh\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 ja laskeva\r\naurinko paistoi suoraan sis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, niin ett\xc3\xa4 huone aluksi oli aivan\r\nkirkas. Se n\xc3\xa4kyi kuin taikalyhtykuva mustaa maisemaa ja harmaan\r\nviheri\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ryytt\xc3\xa4 vasten. Huoneessa oli sit\xc3\xa4paitsi juuri sytytetty\r\nkynttil\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nVuoteessa makasi laiha mies, aavemaisen kalpeat kasvot rutistuneella\r\ntyynyll\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 olivat p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n yl\xc3\xa4puolella, lujasti\r\nyhteenpuserrettuina. Vuoteen vieress\xc3\xa4 olevalla pienell\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nmuutamia l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kepulloja, hiukan vett\xc3\xa4 ja leip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ja tyhj\xc3\xa4 lasi. Silloin\r\nt\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in laihan miehen huulet avautuivat lausuakseen sanan, jota ei\r\nkuulunut. Mutta vaimo ei huomannut, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vaivasi, sill\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4n oli ahkerassa ty\xc3\xb6ss\xc3\xa4: kantoi papereita vanhamallisesta kaapista\r\nhuoneen vastaiseen nurkkaan. Aluksi kuva todellakin oli hyvin selv\xc3\xa4,\r\nmutta kun viheri\xc3\xa4 koitto sen takana yh\xc3\xa4 kirkastui, niin se h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4rtyi\r\ntullen yh\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4pikuultavammaksi.\r\n\r\nKun askeleet tulivat yh\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi, nuo askeleet, jotka niin kovina\r\nkaikuvat toisessa maailmassa ja niin hiljaisina kuuluvat t\xc3\xa4nne,\r\nPlattner huomasi ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ison joukon h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 kasvoja, jotka yhdess\xc3\xa4\r\ntirkistiv\xc3\xa4t pime\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja katselivat huoneen kahta asujaa. Ei h\xc3\xa4n ollut\r\nkoskaan ennen n\xc3\xa4hnyt niin paljoa el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n tarkastelijoita. Suuri osa\r\nkatseli vaan k\xc3\xa4rsiv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, toiset sanomattomassa tuskassa olevaa vaimoa,\r\njoka ahnain silmin etsi mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4. Ne kokoontuivat Plattnerin\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rille, tulivat h\xc3\xa4nen eteens\xc3\xa4, t\xc3\xb6rm\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen kasvoihinsa ja\r\nheid\xc3\xa4n hy\xc3\xb6dytt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n murheensa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni kaikui ilmassa. H\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4ki selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\nainoastaan silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in. Toisin ajoin kuva v\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4hteli ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nviheri\xc3\xa4t varjot liikahtelivat sen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nteiss\xc3\xa4. Huoneessa oli varmaan\r\nhyvin hiljaista. Plattner n\xc3\xa4ki, miten kynttil\xc3\xa4n liekki savusi aivan\r\nkohtisuoraan yl\xc3\xb6sp\xc3\xa4in, mutta h\xc3\xa4nen korvissaan kuului joka ainoa askel\r\nkuin ukkosen jyry. Ja katselijat sitten! Kaksi niist\xc3\xa4 oli aivan\r\nhuoneessa puuhailevan vaimon n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6ist\xc3\xa4; toinen, joka n\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti oli\r\nnainen, oli kalpea ja kirkaspiirteinen, n\xc3\xa4ytti muinoin olleen kylm\xc3\xa4 ja\r\nkova, mutta pehminneen maalliselle ymm\xc3\xa4rryksellemme k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\r\nviisauden kosketuksesta. Toinen olisi voinut olla vaimon is\xc3\xa4. N\xc3\xa4ytti\r\nsilt\xc3\xa4, kuin olisivat he kumpikin katselleet jotain syd\xc3\xa4met\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4\r\nkonnanty\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4, jota he eiv\xc3\xa4t en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 voineet est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tapahtumasta. Taampana\r\noli toisia, opettajia, jotka ehk\xc3\xa4 olivat opettaneet v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rin, yst\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4,\r\njotka eiv\xc3\xa4t olleet saaneet mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n aikaan. Ja miest\xc3\xa4 katselemassa oli\r\nmy\xc3\xb6skin suuri joukko, mutta ei yht\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n vanhempain tai opettajain\r\ntapaista. Kasvoja, jotka ehk\xc3\xa4 ennen olivat olleet raakoja, nyt surun\r\nankaroiksi puhdistamia. Ja eturiviss\xc3\xa4 yhdet kasvot, tytt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4iset, ei\r\nvihaiset eik\xc3\xa4 moittivat, vaan pikemmin k\xc3\xa4rsiv\xc3\xa4t ja v\xc3\xa4syneet, ja, kuten\r\nPlattnerista tuntui, ratkaisua odottavat. Plattnerin kuvauskyky ei\r\nriit\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 monimuotoista henkijoukkoa selvitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Kello soi ja joukko\r\nkokoontui. Sekunnin aikana n\xc3\xa4ki Plattner ne kaikki. H\xc3\xa4n luulee olleensa\r\nt\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 hetkell\xc3\xa4 niin kiihotuksissaan, ett\xc3\xa4 huomaamattaan otti taskustaan\r\npullon, jossa tuon viheri\xc3\xa4n pulverin j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nn\xc3\xb6s oli ja piteli sit\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n ei muista t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 varmaan.\r\n\r\nAskelten \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni lakkasi \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n odotti hetkisen. Oli hiljaista. Sitten\r\nkuului \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 kellon ensi kilahdus; se puhkaisi odottamattoman\r\nhiljaisuuden kuin ohut ter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 veitsi. Samalla joukko h\xc3\xa4nen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nliehui edestakasin ja \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nek\xc3\xa4s huuto alkoi kuulua. Vaimo ei kuullut\r\nmit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n; h\xc3\xa4n poltti nyt jotakin kynttil\xc3\xa4nliekiss\xc3\xa4. Kun kello soi toisen\r\nkerran, muuttui kaikki h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ksi ja j\xc3\xa4isen kylm\xc3\xa4 tuuli puhalsi l\xc3\xa4pi\r\nkatselijain joukon. Ne kierteliv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kuin parvi\r\nkuolleita lehti\xc3\xa4 kev\xc3\xa4ttuulessa ja kellon soidessa kolmannen kerran ne\r\nheittiv\xc3\xa4t jotain vuoteeseen. Olette kuulleet valojuovasta. Tuo oli kuin\r\npimeysjuova ja kun Plattner j\xc3\xa4lleen katsoi vuoteeseen, n\xc3\xa4ki h\xc3\xa4n mustan\r\nk\xc3\xa4den ja k\xc3\xa4sivarren.\r\n\r\nViheri\xc3\xa4 aurinko nousi juuri aution synk\xc3\xa4n taivaanrannan yli ja huone\r\nn\xc3\xa4kyi hyvin ep\xc3\xa4selv\xc3\xa4sti. Plattner voi n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 se, mik\xc3\xa4 vuoteessa\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytti valkoiselta, v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntelehti ja ett\xc3\xa4 vaimo s\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4hti katsoessaan\r\nsinne yli olkansa.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4hyst\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4in parvi kohosi kuin viheri\xc3\xa4 sumu tuulessa ja laskeutui\r\nhitaasti laakson temppeli\xc3\xa4 kohti. Silloin Plattner yht\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 tajusi,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 tarkoitti tuo musta k\xc3\xa4si, joka ojentui yli miehen ja vei uhrinsa.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n ei uskaltanut k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sinne p\xc3\xa4in. Kovasti ponnistaen\r\nvoimiaan ja sulkien silm\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n alkoi juosta ja kulki ehk\xc3\xa4\r\nparikymment\xc3\xa4 askelta. Sitten h\xc3\xa4nen jalkansa luiskahti liukkaalla\r\nkivell\xc3\xa4 ja h\xc3\xa4n kaatui. H\xc3\xa4n kaatui k\xc3\xa4silleen; pullo s\xc3\xa4rkyi ja r\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4hti\r\nkoskiessaan maahan.\r\n\r\nSeuraavassa hetkess\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xb6ysi h\xc3\xa4n itsens\xc3\xa4 py\xc3\xb6rtyneen\xc3\xa4 ja verisen\xc3\xa4\r\nistumassa koulun takana, aidatulla pihamaalla vastap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 Lidgetti\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nKertomus Plattnerin kokemuksista on lopussa. Olen mielest\xc3\xa4ni\r\nmenestyksell\xc3\xa4 vastustanut tarinain kirjoittajassa olevaa luonnollista\r\nhalua t\xc3\xa4llaisten tapausten kokoonlaittelemiseen. Olen mik\xc3\xa4li\r\nmahdollista kertonut asiat siin\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4rjestyksess\xc3\xa4, miss\xc3\xa4 Plattner ne\r\nkertoi minulle. Olen huolellisesti karttanut kaikkia tyylin,\r\nvaikutelman tai sanainsovinnon yrityksi\xc3\xa4. Olisi ollut helppoa\r\nesimerkiksi tehd\xc3\xa4 kuolinvuode-n\xc3\xa4yst\xc3\xa4 salajuoni ja sekottaa siihen\r\nPlattner. Mutta, lukuunottamatta sit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4 uskottavimman tarinan\r\nv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rent\xc3\xa4minen on moitittavaa, sellaisten kuluneitten taidekeinojen\r\nk\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xb6 mielest\xc3\xa4ni ry\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4isi sen omituisen vaikutelman, jonka saa tuosta\r\npime\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 maailmasta harmaanvihreine valoineen ja sen leijailevista\r\nel\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n tarkastelijoista, jotka n\xc3\xa4kym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4 ja saavuttamattomina aina\r\nmeit\xc3\xa4 ymp\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iv\xc3\xa4t.\r\n\r\nOn lis\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 kuolemantapaus todellakin sattui Vincentkadulla\r\naivan koulupihan vieress\xc3\xa4 ja mik\xc3\xa4li on selvinnyt, juuri Plattnerin\r\npalaushetkell\xc3\xa4. Vainaja oli kunnallisverojen kantaja ja\r\nvakuutusasiamies. H\xc3\xa4nen vaimonsa, joka oli paljon nuorempi, nai viime\r\nkuussa herra Whymperin, el\xc3\xa4inl\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rin Allbeedingista. Kun t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nkerrottu osa tarinaa oli eri muodoissa kiert\xc3\xa4nyt suupuheena ymp\xc3\xa4ri\r\nSussexvillen, antoi h\xc3\xa4n minulle luvan mainita h\xc3\xa4nen nimens\xc3\xa4 sill\xc3\xa4\r\nehdolla, ett\xc3\xa4 min\xc3\xa4 selv\xc3\xa4sti tekisin tiett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n mit\xc3\xa4\r\nankarimmin vastustaa jokainoata kohtaa Plattnerin kertomuksessa h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmiehens\xc3\xa4 viime hetkist\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n kielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 polttaneensa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n testamenttia,\r\nvaikkei Plattner h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 sellaisesta ty\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4 syyt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n: h\xc3\xa4nen miehens\xc3\xa4 oli\r\nkyll\xc3\xa4 tehnyt testamentin heti heid\xc3\xa4n naimisiin menty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Totta puhuen\r\noli Plattnerin kertomus huoneen sisustuksesta, siihen katsoen ettei h\xc3\xa4n\r\nollut sit\xc3\xa4 koskaan n\xc3\xa4hnyt, ihmetelt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n tarkka.\r\n\r\nToistakin asiaa minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy v\xc3\xa4sytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n toistamisen uhallakin\r\npainostaa, etten n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4isi suosivan naurettavan taikauskoisia\r\nn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6kantoja. Plattnerin poissaolo maailmastamme yhdeks\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 on\r\nluullakseni todistettu. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 ei todista oikeaksi h\xc3\xa4nen\r\ntarinaansa. On aivan mahdollista, ett\xc3\xa4 avaruuden ulkopuolellakin voi\r\ntapahtua hallusinatsionikohtauksia. Se ainakin pit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lukijan tarkasti\r\npainaa mieleens\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nMustan miehen kosto.\r\n\r\n\r\nEnsi kerran joutui Pollock tekemisiin tuon porroh-miehen kanssa er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\r\nr\xc3\xa4meikk\xc3\xb6-kyl\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, joka sijaitsi laguunijoen varrella Turnerin niemimaan\r\ntakana. Sen seudun naiset ovat kuuluja kauneudestaan -- heiss\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xb6ytyy\r\nn\xc3\xa4et pisara europalaista verta Vasco da Gaman ja englantilaisten\r\norjakauppiaiden ajoilta; ja ehk\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 porroh-miest\xc3\xa4kin oli kiihottanut\r\nheikko piirre kaukasialaista luonnetta. (Onpa kerrassaan omituista\r\najatella, ett\xc3\xa4 muutamilla meik\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4isist\xc3\xa4 saattaa olla serkkuja, jotka\r\nsy\xc3\xb6v\xc3\xa4t ihmisi\xc3\xa4 Sherboro-saarella tai k\xc3\xa4yv\xc3\xa4t ry\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xb6retkill\xc3\xa4 Sofas-heimon\r\nmukana.) Oli miten hyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4, porroh-mies l\xc3\xa4visti naisen syd\xc3\xa4men,\r\nik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin h\xc3\xa4n olisi ollut tavallinen italialainen rahvaan mies, ja oli\r\ntekem\xc3\xa4isill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n samoin Pollockillekin. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 torjui revolverillaan\r\ntuon salamannopean iskun, joka oli t\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4tty h\xc3\xa4nen olkalihakseensa,\r\nlenn\xc3\xa4tti rautaisen tikarin syrj\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja ampui miest\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4teen.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n laukaisi uudelleen, mutta luoti lensi harhaan, puhkaisten majan\r\nsein\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n satunnaisen akkuna-aukon. Porroh-mies kyyristyi oven suuhun ja\r\nkatsoi Pollockia k\xc3\xa4sivartensa alatse. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ki auringon valossa\r\nvilaukselta h\xc3\xa4nen yl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneet kasvonsa ja sitten\r\nenglantilainen oli yksin h\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xb6kiss\xc3\xa4, j\xc3\xa4nnityksest\xc3\xa4 sairaana ja\r\nvavisten. Kaikki tuo tapahtui lyhyemm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 ajassa, kuin mik\xc3\xa4 kuluu siit\xc3\xa4\r\nluettaessa.\r\n\r\nNainen oli aivan kuollut ja saatuaan sen selville Pollock astui majan\r\novelle ja katseli ulos. Siell\xc3\xa4 oli kaikki huikaisevan kirkasta.\r\nPuolikymment\xc3\xa4 retkikunnan kantajaa seisoi ryhm\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4 niit\xc3\xa4\r\nvihreit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xb6kkeleit\xc3\xa4, joissa he majailivat; he tuijottivat h\xc3\xa4neen\r\nihmetellen mit\xc3\xa4 laukaukset mahtoivat merkit\xc3\xa4. Miesjoukon takana n\xc3\xa4kyi\r\nleve\xc3\xa4 rantakaistale mustaa, l\xc3\xb6yhk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mutaa, sitten kaislikkoa ja\r\nvesiruohostoa, jotka muistuttivat vihre\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 mattoa, ja kauimpana\r\nlyijynharmaa vedenpinta. Joen vastaiselta rannalta h\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xb6ttiv\xc3\xa4t\r\nmangrove-puut ep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4isin\xc3\xa4 sinert\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n autereen l\xc3\xa4pi. Matalamajaisesta\r\nkyl\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4, jonka aitaus kohosi juuri sokeriruokojen yl\xc3\xa4puolelle, ei\r\nkuulunut mink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nlaista h\xc3\xa4iri\xc3\xb6n merkki\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nPollock astui varovaisesti ulos h\xc3\xb6kkelist\xc3\xa4 ja kulki jokea kohti,\r\nkatsahtaen tuon tuostakin olkansa yli. Mutta porroh-mies oli h\xc3\xa4vinnyt.\r\nPollock puristi hermostuneesti revolveriansa k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nMuuan h\xc3\xa4nen miehist\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n saapui h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 vastaan ja viittasi pensaikkoon\r\nmajan taaksi, jonne porroh-mies oli kadonnut. Pollock tunsi kiusallisen\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli k\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytynyt tavattoman tyhm\xc3\xa4sti; t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nne katkeroitti ja suututti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Ja p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tteeksi h\xc3\xa4nen\r\noli kerrottava siit\xc3\xa4 Waterhouselle -- tuolle siveelliselle,\r\nmallikelpoiselle Waterhouselle -- joka tulisi aivan varmaan ottamaan\r\nasian vakavalta kannalta. Pollock sadatteli syd\xc3\xa4mens\xc3\xa4 pohjasta\r\nkohtaloansa, Waterhousea ja ennen kaikkea Afrikan l\xc3\xa4nsirannikkoa. Koko\r\nretki inhotti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 syv\xc3\xa4sti. Ja kaiken aikaa h\xc3\xa4nen mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nkummitteli ep\xc3\xa4luuloinen tunne, ett\xc3\xa4 porroh-mies mahtoi olla jossakin\r\nl\xc3\xa4hist\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nTuntunee hiukan kammottavalta, ettei \xc3\xa4skeinen murha ollut ensink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nj\xc3\xa4rkytt\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4nen mielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Viimekuluneiden kolmen kuukauden aikana h\xc3\xa4n\r\noli n\xc3\xa4hnyt niin ylenm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rin v\xc3\xa4kivaltaisuutta, niin paljon kuolleita\r\nnaisia, poltettuja h\xc3\xb6kkeleit\xc3\xa4, vaalenevia luurankoja Kittam-joen\r\nvarsilla sofalaisten ratsujoukon vanavedess\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen aistimensa\r\nolivat tylsistyneet. H\xc3\xa4nen levottomuutensa johtui siit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n tiesi\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n olevan vain alkua vastaisiin ik\xc3\xa4vyyksiin.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n sadatteli kiukkuisesti er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 mustaihoista, joka rohkeni tehd\xc3\xa4\r\nkysymyksen, ja jatkoi matkaansa oranssipuiden alle pystytetty\xc3\xa4 telttaa\r\nkohti, miss\xc3\xa4 Waterhouse lep\xc3\xa4si; ja h\xc3\xa4n oli hermostunut kuin poika, joka\r\nastuu opettajansa eteen tilinteolle.\r\n\r\nWaterhouse nukkui viel\xc3\xa4 viimeisen unijuomansa uuvuttamana ja Pollock\r\nistahti h\xc3\xa4nen viereens\xc3\xa4 er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle matka-arkulle, sytytti piippunsa ja j\xc3\xa4i\r\nodottamaan, ett\xc3\xa4 toinen her\xc3\xa4isi. H\xc3\xa4nen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n oli hujan hajan\r\nastioita ja aseita, jotka Waterhouse oli koonnut mendikansan\r\nkeskuudessa ja joita h\xc3\xa4n oli asetellut uudelleen arkkuihin,\r\nl\xc3\xa4hetett\xc3\xa4viksi veneiss\xc3\xa4 Sulymaan.\r\n\r\nEnnen pitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 Waterhouse her\xc3\xa4si, ojenteli tutkistellen j\xc3\xa4seni\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja teki\r\nsen johtop\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6ksen, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli j\xc3\xa4lleen t\xc3\xa4ydess\xc3\xa4 kunnossa. Pollock\r\ntoimitti h\xc3\xa4nelle teet\xc3\xa4. Sit\xc3\xa4 juotaessa Pollock kertoi h\xc3\xa4nelle\r\niltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4isen tapahtuman, kierrelty\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sit\xc3\xa4 ensin kuin kissa kuumaa\r\npuuroa. Waterhouse otti asian viel\xc3\xa4kin vakavammalta kannalta kuin mit\xc3\xa4\r\nPollock oli odottanut. H\xc3\xa4n ei ainoastaan paheksunut sit\xc3\xa4, h\xc3\xa4n haukkui,\r\nh\xc3\xa4n solvasikin.\r\n\r\n"Sin\xc3\xa4 olet noita kirottuja h\xc3\xb6lm\xc3\xb6j\xc3\xa4, joiden mielest\xc3\xa4 mustaihoinen ei ole\r\nmik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ihmisolento", h\xc3\xa4n virkkoi. "En saa olla sairaana p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nilman ett\xc3\xa4 sin\xc3\xa4 sekaannut johonkin likaiseen juttuun. Nyt sin\xc3\xa4 olet\r\njoutunut jo kolmannen kerran kuukauden kuluessa selkkauksiin jonkun\r\nalkuasukkaan kanssa ja t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 kertaa on kysymyksess\xc3\xa4 kosto, viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4\r\nporroh-miehen kosto! Sinulle ollaan jo ennest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkin kyllin kiukkuisia\r\ntuon ep\xc3\xa4jumalan t\xc3\xa4hden, johon sin\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xb6lm\xc3\xb6 kirjoitit nimesi. Ja he ovat\r\nkostonhaluisimpia paholaisia koko maailmassa. Sin\xc3\xa4 saatat ihmisen\r\nh\xc3\xa4pe\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sivistyst\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n! Ja sin\xc3\xa4 sanot l\xc3\xa4hteneesi kunniallisesta\r\nkodista! Jos viel\xc3\xa4 kerran otan vaivoikseni tuollaisen kelvottoman,\r\ntyper\xc3\xa4n tolvanan --"\r\n\r\n"Annahan tulla vaan!" \xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4hti Pollock sellaisella \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4, joka aina sai\r\nWaterhousen suunniltaan; "annahan tulla!"\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Waterhouse k\xc3\xa4vi sanattomaksi. H\xc3\xa4n hyp\xc3\xa4hti pystyyn.\r\n\r\n"Kuulehan nyt, Pollock", sanoi h\xc3\xa4n, koetettuaan hillit\xc3\xa4 itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "Sinun\r\non l\xc3\xa4hdett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 kotiin. En v\xc3\xa4lit\xc3\xa4 sinusta kauempaa. Sinusta on jo ollut\r\nkyllin haittaa --"\r\n\r\n"\xc3\x84l\xc3\xa4 ensink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n huolehdi", virkkoi Pollock, tuijottaen eteens\xc3\xa4. "L\xc3\xa4hden\r\nkernaasti."\r\n\r\nWaterhouse tyyntyi j\xc3\xa4lleen. H\xc3\xa4n istahti telttatuolille. "No, hyv\xc3\xa4",\r\nsanoi h\xc3\xa4n. "En rakasta riitaa, Pollock, sen tied\xc3\xa4t, mutta onhan\r\nviet\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n harmillista n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 aiheidensa menev\xc3\xa4n myttyyn tuollaisen asian\r\nt\xc3\xa4hden. Seuraan sinua Sulymaan, jotta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4set turvassa laivaan" -- "Se\r\non tarpeetonta", vastasi Pollock. "Voin l\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 yksin\xc3\xa4ni. T\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Pitk\xc3\xa4lle et p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4se", sanoi Waterhouse. "Sin\xc3\xa4 et ymm\xc3\xa4rr\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nporroh-asiaa."\r\n\r\n"Mist\xc3\xa4 _min\xc3\xa4_ saatoin tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 tuo nainen oli jonkun porroh-miehen\r\noma?" virkkoi Pollock katkeroituneena.\r\n\r\n"Sit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli joka tapauksessa", sanoi Waterhouse, "etk\xc3\xa4 sin\xc3\xa4 saa\r\nasiaa olemattomaksi. L\xc3\xa4hte\xc3\xa4 yksin\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 mit\xc3\xa4! Olenpa utelias\r\ntiet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mit\xc3\xa4 he tekisiv\xc3\xa4t sinulle. Sin\xc3\xa4 et n\xc3\xa4y k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\nporroh-silm\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4j\xc3\xa4 hallitsee t\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 maata, h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on vallassaan sen\r\nlait, uskonto, hallitus, l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kint\xc3\xa4taito... Sellaiset ne nimitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4miehetkin. Inkvisitsioni ei olisi kelvannut p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n n\xc3\xa4iden\r\nveijarien keng\xc3\xa4nnauhojakaan. Kenties h\xc3\xa4n yllytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kimppuumme Avajalen,\r\nt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4isen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4miehen. Kaikeksi onneksi meid\xc3\xa4n kantajamme ovat\r\nmendil\xc3\xa4is\xc3\xa4. Meid\xc3\xa4n on siirrett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 pikku leirimme toiseen\r\npaikkaan... Piru sinut perik\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n, Pollock! Ja luonnollisesti sinun\r\nt\xc3\xa4ytyi kaiken hyv\xc3\xa4n lis\xc3\xa4ksi viel\xc3\xa4 ampua harhaan."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n mietiskeli ja h\xc3\xa4nen ajatuksensa n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t olevan vastenmielisi\xc3\xa4.\r\nHetken kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n nousi ja otti pyssyns\xc3\xa4. "Sinun sijassasi\r\npysyttelisin hiukan syrj\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4", h\xc3\xa4n huomautti olkansa yli, menness\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nulos. "K\xc3\xa4yn katsomaan, voinko saada siit\xc3\xa4 jotain selville."\r\n\r\nPollock j\xc3\xa4i miettiv\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4 istumaan telttaan. "Minut oli aiottu\r\nsivistyneisiin oloihin", h\xc3\xa4n virkkoi itsekseen katuen, t\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\npiippuansa. "Parasta on p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 niin pian kuin mahdollista takaisin\r\nLontooseen tai Pariisiin."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4nen katseensa sattui er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen lukittuun arkkuun, johon Waterhouse oli\r\nk\xc3\xa4tkenyt mendien maassa ostamansa sulattomat myrkytetyt nuolet. "Kunpa\r\nolisin osannut tuota roistoa johonkin hengenvaaralliseen paikkaan", h\xc3\xa4n\r\nsanoi kiukkuisesti.\r\n\r\nPitk\xc3\xa4n ajan per\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Waterhouse saapui takaisin. H\xc3\xa4n ei ollut ensink\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nhalukas kertomaan, vaikka Pollock ahdisteli h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kysymyksill\xc3\xa4.\r\nPorroh-mies tuntui olevan huomattava j\xc3\xa4sen tuossa salaper\xc3\xa4isess\xc3\xa4\r\nyhdistyksess\xc3\xa4. Kyl\xc3\xa4 oli k\xc3\xa4ynyt uteliaaksi, vaan ei viel\xc3\xa4 uhkaavaksi.\r\nPoppa-mies oli ep\xc3\xa4ilem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4htenyt viidakkoon. H\xc3\xa4n oli taitava\r\npoppa-mies. "Tietysti h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 on jotain mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n", sanoi Waterhouse\r\nja vaikeni.\r\n\r\n"Mutta mit\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n voisi tehd\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Pollock, saamatta vastausta.\r\n\r\n"Minun t\xc3\xa4ytyy toimittaa sinut vapaaksi t\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4. Varmaankin he hautovat\r\njotain, muuten ei t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 olisi n\xc3\xa4in rauhallista", virkkoi Waterhouse\r\npitk\xc3\xa4n vaitiolon per\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4. Pollock tahtoi tiet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, mit\xc3\xa4 se koski.\r\n"Tanssivat p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kallojen keskell\xc3\xa4", sanoi Waterhouse, "ja keitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4t\r\njotain l\xc3\xb6yhk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vaskikattilassa." Pollock halusi tarkempia\r\nselityksi\xc3\xa4, Waterhouse vastaili v\xc3\xa4ltellen, Pollock kyseli kiusaten.\r\nLopulta Waterhouse menetti malttinsa. "Mist\xc3\xa4 perhanasta min\xc3\xa4 sen\r\ntied\xc3\xa4n?" h\xc3\xa4n huudahti, kun Pollock kysyi kahdettakymmenett\xc3\xa4 kertaa,\r\nmit\xc3\xa4 porroh-mies aikoi tehd\xc3\xa4. "H\xc3\xa4n yritti surmata sinut suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nmajassa. Nyt h\xc3\xa4n luullakseni on koettava jotain mutkikkaampaa. Mutta ei\r\nsinun tarvitse odottaa sit\xc3\xa4 kovinkaan kauaa. En tahdo lamauttaa sinua.\r\nKenties kaikki onkin aivan jonnin joutavaa."\r\n\r\nKun he sin\xc3\xa4 iltana istuivat nuotionsa \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4, koetti Pollock j\xc3\xa4lleen\r\njohtaa Waterhousen puhumaan porroh-miesten menettelytavoista. "Parasta\r\non, ett\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4yt levolle", sanoi t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4, huomatessaan toisen aikeet;\r\n"l\xc3\xa4hdemme liikkeelle varhain aamulla. Sin\xc3\xa4 tarvitset silloin kaiken\r\nj\xc3\xa4ntevyytesi."\r\n\r\n"Mutta mill\xc3\xa4 tavalla h\xc3\xa4n aikoo menetell\xc3\xa4?"\r\n\r\n"Enp\xc3\xa4 tied\xc3\xa4. Se v\xc3\xa4ki on perin huikentelevaista. Ne osaavat kaikenlaisia\r\nkummallisia konsteja. Sinun on parasta kysy\xc3\xa4 tuolta kuparikasvoiselta\r\nShakespeare-paholaiselta."\r\n\r\nPimeydest\xc3\xa4, m\xc3\xb6kkien takaa v\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti leimaus, kuului kumea pamaus ja\r\nPollockin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ohitse suhahti savikuula. Se ainakin oli selv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kielt\xc3\xa4.\r\nMustaihoiset ja sekarotuiset, jotka istuivat tarinoiden oman nuotionsa\r\nymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4, hyp\xc3\xa4htiv\xc3\xa4t pystyyn ja joku ampui pimeyteen.\r\n\r\n"Parasta ett\xc3\xa4 menet johonkin majaan", sanoi Waterhouse rauhallisesti,\r\nistuen yh\xc3\xa4 alallaan.\r\n\r\nPollock nousi seisaalleen tulen \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ress\xc3\xa4 ja veti esille revolverinsa.\r\nTappelua ei h\xc3\xa4n ainakaan pel\xc3\xa4nnyt. Mutta pimeys on ihmisen paras\r\nsotisopa. H\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4sitti Waterhousen ehdotuksen viisaaksi ja l\xc3\xa4hti\r\ntelttaan, laskeutuen siell\xc3\xa4 levolle.\r\n\r\nV\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n sai nukuttua ja silloinkin h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4iritsiv\xc3\xa4t unenn\xc3\xa4\xc3\xb6t; h\xc3\xa4n\r\nuneksi monenlaisista seikoista, mutta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4asiallisesti porroh-miehen\r\nyl\xc3\xb6salaisin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneist\xc3\xa4 kasvoista, kuten t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 oli katsonut h\xc3\xa4neen\r\nk\xc3\xa4sivartensa alatse, l\xc3\xa4htiess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ulos majasta. Omituista oli, ett\xc3\xa4 t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\r\n\xc3\xa4killinen vaikutelma oli painunut Pollockin muistiin niin lujasti. Sen\r\nlis\xc3\xa4ksi tunsi h\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4seniss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kummallista kipua.\r\n\r\nKun he aamuh\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 sovittelivat tavaroitaan veneisiin, suhahti \xc3\xa4kisti\r\nv\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4inen vasama maahan Pollockin jalkojen juureen. Miehet koettivat\r\nn\xc3\xa4\xc3\xb6n vuoksi tutkia viidakkoa, mutta ket\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei saatu kiinni.\r\n\r\nN\xc3\xa4iden kahden tapahtuman j\xc3\xa4lkeen retkikunta osoittautui taipuvaiseksi\r\nj\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n Pollockin yksiksens\xc3\xa4 ja h\xc3\xa4n taas tunsi ensi kerran el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntarvetta liitty\xc3\xa4 mustien joukkoon. Waterhouse otti toisen ruuhen ja\r\nPollockin oli asettuminen toiseen, vaikka h\xc3\xa4n osoittikin harrasta halua\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 pakinoimaan Waterhousen kanssa. H\xc3\xa4net j\xc3\xa4tettiin itseksens\xc3\xa4\r\nruuhen keulapuoleen ja h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 oli t\xc3\xa4ysi ty\xc3\xb6 saada miehet -- jotka\r\neiv\xc3\xa4t pit\xc3\xa4neet h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4 -- melomaan alusta keskell\xc3\xa4 virtaa, sadan\r\nkyyn\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n tai pitemm\xc3\xa4nkin matkan p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 kummastakin rannasta. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n\r\npakotti Shakespearen, er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sekarotuisen Freetownista, siirtym\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nen\r\npuolelleen purtta ja kertomaan h\xc3\xa4nelle porroh-miehist\xc3\xa4; ja huomattuaan\r\nmahdottomaksi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 erilleen Pollockista t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 tekikin sen huomattavan\r\nvapaasti ja halukkaasti.\r\n\r\nP\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4 kului. Ruuhi lipui nopeasti laguunivett\xc3\xa4 pitkin vesiviikunain,\r\nkaatuneiden puiden, kaislikkojen ja viinipalmujen keskitse; ja\r\nvasemmalla levisi tumma mangrove-r\xc3\xa4meikk\xc3\xb6, jonka takaa kuului silloin\r\nt\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in Atlannin kohajamista rannikkoa vastaan. Shakespeare kertoi\r\npehme\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4, sotkuisella englanninkielell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, kuinka porroh-v\xc3\xa4ki osasi\r\nnoitua; kuinka ihmiset surkastuivat heid\xc3\xa4n vaikutuksestaan; kuinka he\r\nvoivat l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 unia ja paholaisia; kuinka he r\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t Ijibun poikia\r\nja tappoivat heid\xc3\xa4t; kuinka he ry\xc3\xb6stiv\xc3\xa4t er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n sulymalaisen valkoisen\r\nkauppiaan, joka oli pidellyt pahoin er\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 heik\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4isist\xc3\xa4 ja mink\xc3\xa4\r\nn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen h\xc3\xa4nen ruumiinsa oli ollut l\xc3\xb6ydett\xc3\xa4ess\xc3\xa4. Ja jokaisen tarinan\r\nper\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Pollock sadatteli itsekseen l\xc3\xa4hetystoimen velttoutta, kun se\r\nsalli mokomia seikkoja, ja kykenem\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xb6nt\xc3\xa4 Englannin hallitusta, joka\r\nvallitsi t\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 pahamaineisen pime\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 Sierra Leoness\xc3\xa4. Illalla he\r\nsaapuivat Kasi-j\xc3\xa4rvelle ja majautuivat y\xc3\xb6ksi er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle saarelle,\r\nkarkoittaen sielt\xc3\xa4 parikymment\xc3\xa4 kankeata krokotiilia.\r\n\r\nSeuraavana p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 he p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4siv\xc3\xa4t Sulymaan ja tunsivat sieraimissaan\r\nsuolaisen merituulen tuoksun, mutta Pollockin t\xc3\xa4ytyi odottaa siell\xc3\xa4\r\nviisi p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, ennenkuin voi jatkaa matkaansa Freetowniin. Waterhouse\r\narveli h\xc3\xa4nen nyt olevan verrattain turvassa ja Freetownin suojeluksen\r\nalaisena ja erosi h\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4, palaten retkikuntineen Gbemmaan. Ja Pollock\r\nkohteli perin yst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4llisesti Pereraa, Sulyman ainoata valkoihoista\r\nkauppamiest\xc3\xa4 -- viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 niinkin yst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4llisesti, ett\xc3\xa4 seurasi h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nkaikkialle. Perera oli muuan pienikasvuinen Portugalin juutalainen,\r\njoka oli oleskellut Englannissa, ja englantilaisen yst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4llisyys\r\nmiellytti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 suuresti.\r\n\r\nKahteen p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei tapahtunut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n erikoisempaa; enimm\xc3\xa4kseen Pollock\r\nja Perera pelasivat viitt\xc3\xa4 lehte\xc3\xa4 -- ainoa peli, jonka molemmat\r\ntunsivat -- ja Pollock joutui velkaan. Sitten toisena iltana Pollock\r\nsai ik\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n huomautuksen sit\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 porroh-mies oli saapunut Sulymaan;\r\nter\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi hiottu rautapalanen viilsi h\xc3\xa4nen olkap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 lihahaavan. Se\r\noli ammuttu et\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4 ja oli h\xc3\xa4neen osuessaan jo menett\xc3\xa4nyt melkein\r\nkaiken voimansa. Mutta sanomansa se kertoi kyllin tuntuvasti. Kaiken\r\ny\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4 Pollock istui revolveri k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n riippumatossa ja seuraavana\r\naamuna h\xc3\xa4n uskoi osan jutustaan englantilais-portugalilaiselle.\r\n\r\nPerera otti asian perin vakavalta kannalta. H\xc3\xa4n tunsi sik\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4iset tavat\r\nvarsin tarkalleen. "T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 on mieskohtainen kysymys. Se on kostoa. Ja\r\ntietysti teid\xc3\xa4n poisl\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xb6nne panee h\xc3\xa4net kiiruhtamaan. Ei yksik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nalkuasukas tai sekarotuinen asetu h\xc3\xa4nen tielleen -- ellette maksa\r\nhyvin. Jos p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4sette \xc3\xa4kkiarvaamatta h\xc3\xa4nen kimppuunsa, niin voitte ampua\r\nh\xc3\xa4net. Mutta h\xc3\xa4nkin voi ampua teid\xc3\xa4t."\r\n\r\n"Ja sitten on viel\xc3\xa4 tuo kirottu loihtiminen", jatkoi Perera. "Min\xc3\xa4 en\r\ntietenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n usko sit\xc3\xa4 -- taikauskoa -- mutta eip\xc3\xa4 ole sittenk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hauskaa\r\najatella, ett\xc3\xa4 miss\xc3\xa4 sit\xc3\xa4 lieneekin, niin aina on l\xc3\xa4hist\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4 joku musta\r\nmies, joka silloin t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xb6in viett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 kuutamoisen y\xc3\xb6n tanssimalla nuotion\r\nymp\xc3\xa4ri, l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen pahoja unia.... Onko teill\xc3\xa4 ollut pahoja unia?"\r\n\r\n"Onpa kyll\xc3\xa4", virkkoi Pollock. "N\xc3\xa4en yht\xc3\xa4mittaa tuon roiston yl\xc3\xb6salasin\r\nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nnetyn p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n irvist\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n minulle ja n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n hampaitaan, kuten h\xc3\xa4n\r\nteki majassakin; ja sitten se tulee aivan l\xc3\xa4helle minua, poistuu ja\r\ntulee j\xc3\xa4lleen takaisin. Eih\xc3\xa4n siin\xc3\xa4 ole mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n peloittavaa, mutta\r\nkuitenkin se j\xc3\xa4hmetytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minut kauhusta unissani. Kummallisia asioita\r\n-- nuo unet. Tied\xc3\xa4n kaiken aikaa uneksivani enk\xc3\xa4 kuitenkaan voi her\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nsiit\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Ehk\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 se on vain mielikuvitusta", sanoi Perera. "Sitten kertovat\r\nneekerini viel\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 porroh-miehet voivat l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rmeit\xc3\xa4. Oletteko\r\nhiljan n\xc3\xa4hnyt sellaisia?"\r\n\r\n"Ainoastaan yhden. Tapoin sen t\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 aamuna lattialla l\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4\r\nriippumattoani. Olin astumaisillani sen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lle noustessani yl\xc3\xb6s."\r\n\r\n"Oh!" huudahti Perera ja lis\xc3\xa4si sitten vakuuttavasti: "Tietysti se oli\r\nsatunnaista. Pit\xc3\xa4isin kuitenkin silm\xc3\xa4ni auki. Ja sitten on viel\xc3\xa4\r\nluuns\xc3\xa4rky."\r\n\r\n"Luulin sen johtuvan miasmasta", sanoi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Ehk\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 niinkin. Milloin se alkoi?"\r\n\r\nSilloin Pollock muisti, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n oli ensi kerran tuntenut sit\xc3\xa4 kahakan\r\nj\xc3\xa4lkeisen\xc3\xa4 y\xc3\xb6n\xc3\xa4. "Minun k\xc3\xa4sitykseni on, ettei h\xc3\xa4n halua murhata teit\xc3\xa4",\r\nvirkkoi Perrera -- "ei ainakaan viel\xc3\xa4. Olen kuullut, ett\xc3\xa4 niill\xc3\xa4 on\r\ntapana pelotella ja kiusata jotain ihmist\xc3\xa4 lumoillaan, hengenvaaroilla,\r\nluuvalolla ja pahoilla unilla ja muulla sellaisella, kunnes h\xc3\xa4n on\r\nkyll\xc3\xa4stynyt el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Luonnollisesti se on vaan pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 lorua. \xc3\x84lk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nv\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6 siit\xc3\xa4... Mutta olenpa utelias tiet\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, mit\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n keksii\r\nt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4lkeen."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 aijon keksi\xc3\xa4 jotain sit\xc3\xa4 ennen", lausui Pollock, tuijottaen\r\nsynke\xc3\xa4sti tahmeisiin kortteihin, joita Perera levitteli p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle.\r\n"Minun arvolleni on alentavaa joutua t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 tavoin ajetuksi ja ammutuksi\r\nja vahingoitetuksi. Mahtaakohan tuollainen porroh-taikuri k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\npelionnenkin."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n katsahti ep\xc3\xa4luuloisena Pereraan.\r\n\r\n"Se on hyvin luultavaa", virkkoi Perera innokkaasti. "Se on kovin\r\nihmeellist\xc3\xa4 joukkoa."\r\n\r\nSin\xc3\xa4 iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 Pollock tappoi kaksi k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rmett\xc3\xa4, jotka h\xc3\xa4n tapasi\r\nriippumatossaan; my\xc3\xb6skin punasia muurahaisia vilisi sill\xc3\xa4 paikalla\r\nentist\xc3\xa4 enemm\xc3\xa4n. Ja n\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 harmit suututtivat h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 niin, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4hti\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mendi-roiston pakeille, jonka kanssa h\xc3\xa4n oli ennenkin jutellut.\r\nT\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 n\xc3\xa4ytti h\xc3\xa4nelle muuatta pient\xc3\xa4 rautatikaria ja osoitti, miten se\r\niskettiin niskaan, niin ett\xc3\xa4 Pollockia karmi. -- Er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4tyst\xc3\xa4\r\npalveluksesta Pollock lupasi h\xc3\xa4nelle kaksipiippuisen pyssyn, jossa oli\r\nkoristettu lukko.\r\n\r\nKun Pollock ja Perera iltasella pelasivat korttia, astui mendi ovesta\r\nsis\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kantaen jotain veren tahraamassa rievussa.\r\n\r\n"Ei t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4!" virkkoi Pollock nopeasti. "Ei t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\nMutta mies halusi saada kaupat p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tetyksi eik\xc3\xa4 Pollock enn\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt est\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 avaamasta vaatetta ja heitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xb6yd\xc3\xa4lle porroh-miehen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4.\r\nSe ponnahti lattialle j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en korteille punaset j\xc3\xa4ljet ja vieri\r\nnurkkaan; sinne se pys\xc3\xa4htyi k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneen\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6salasin, mutta tuijottaen\r\ntiukasti Pollockiin.\r\n\r\nPerera kavahti seisaalleen, kun p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 putosi korttien keskelle, ja rupesi\r\nkiihkoissaan s\xc3\xa4ttim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n portugalinkielell\xc3\xa4. Mendi kumarteli punanen\r\nvaate k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. "Pyssy!" h\xc3\xa4n sanoi. Pollock tuijotti nurkassa olevaan\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n. Kasvoilla oli juuri sama ilme kuin h\xc3\xa4nen unissaankin\r\nn\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4ytyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Jotain tuntui napsahtavan lukkoon h\xc3\xa4nen omissa\r\naivoissaan, kun h\xc3\xa4n katseli sit\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSitten Perera solahti j\xc3\xa4lleen englanninkieleen.\r\n\r\n"Toimititteko h\xc3\xa4net surmatuksi?" h\xc3\xa4n kysyi. "Ettek\xc3\xb6 surmannut h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nitse?"\r\n\r\n"Miksi olisi minun pit\xc3\xa4nyt tehd\xc3\xa4 se?" sanoi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Mutta nyt ei h\xc3\xa4n voi poistaa sit\xc3\xa4!"\r\n\r\n"Poistaa mit\xc3\xa4?" kysyi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Ja kaikki kortit ovat aivan pilalla!"\r\n\r\n"Mit\xc3\xa4 te tarkoitatte poistamisella?" virkkoi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy l\xc3\xa4hett\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 minulle uusi pakka Freetownista. Niit\xc3\xa4 saa\r\nostaa siell\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\n"Mutta -- poistaa?"\r\n\r\n"Se on vain taikauskoa. Unohdin sen. Neekerit sanovat, ett\xc3\xa4 jos noidat\r\n-- h\xc3\xa4n oli noita -- Mutta se on pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 roskaa.... T\xc3\xa4ytyy saada\r\nporroh-mies palauttamaan se tai surmata h\xc3\xa4net itse.... Se on kerrassaan\r\ntyhm\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nPollock kirosi itsekseen, tuijoittaen yh\xc3\xa4 viel\xc3\xa4 nurkassa olevaan\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\n"En voi siet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 tuota katsetta", h\xc3\xa4n sanoi. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n hy\xc3\xb6kk\xc3\xa4si p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n luo\r\nja potkasi sit\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSe kieri muutaman kyyn\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n matkan ja j\xc3\xa4i sitten samaan asentoon kuin\r\nennenkin, k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneen\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6salasin ja katsoen h\xc3\xa4neen.\r\n\r\n"H\xc3\xa4n on kamalan n\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen", virkkoi Perera. "Kerrassaan kamalan\r\nn\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xb6inen. Ne viiltelev\xc3\xa4t kasvojaan pienill\xc3\xa4 veitsill\xc3\xa4."\r\n\r\nPollock olisi uudelleen potkaissut p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4, ellei mendi-mies olisi\r\nkoskettanut h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivarttaan. "Pyssy?" t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 sanoi silm\xc3\xa4illen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nhermostuneesti.\r\n\r\n"Kaksikin -- jos viet tuon kirotun kappaleen pois", lausui Pollock.\r\n\r\nMendi pudisti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ja teki tiett\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n halusi saada yhden\r\npyssyn, joka nyt oli tuleva h\xc3\xa4nelle ja josta h\xc3\xa4n olisi varsin\r\nkiitollinen. Pollock huomasi, ettei h\xc3\xa4neen voinut vaikuttaa\r\nmielittelyll\xc3\xa4 eik\xc3\xa4 r\xc3\xb6yhkeydell\xc3\xa4. Pereralla oli pyssy myyt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 (kolmen\r\nsadan prosentin voitolla) ja ennen pitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mies poistui se k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nSitten Pollockin katseet k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyiv\xc3\xa4t h\xc3\xa4nen tahtomattaankin permannolle.\r\n\r\n"Varsin hullunkurista, ett\xc3\xa4 tuo p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 aina k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyy laelleen", sanoi\r\nPerera nauraen v\xc3\xa4kin\xc3\xa4isesti, "H\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4 lienee raskaat aivot; h\xc3\xa4nen\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 muistuttaa noita pikku leluja, jotka lyijypaino aina vet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\npystyyn. Teid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy vied\xc3\xa4 se mukananne, kun l\xc3\xa4hdette. Voisitte vied\xc3\xa4\r\nsen nyt heti. Kortit ovat aivan pilalla. Freetownissa on muuan mies,\r\njoka my\xc3\xb6 niit\xc3\xa4. Huone on k\xc3\xa4ynyt kovin siivottomaksi. Teid\xc3\xa4n olisi\r\npit\xc3\xa4nyt surmata h\xc3\xa4net itse."\r\n\r\nPollock kokosi ryhtins\xc3\xa4 ja nosti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n maasta. H\xc3\xa4n aikoi ripustaa sen\r\nkamarinsa katossa olevaan lamppukoukkuun ja kaivaa sille heti haudan.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n luuli ripustaneensa sen hiuksista, mutta varmaankin h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\nerehtynyt, sill\xc3\xa4 kun h\xc3\xa4n palasi noutamaan sit\xc3\xa4, niin se riippui\r\nniskasta yl\xc3\xb6salasin.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n hautasi sen ennen auringonlaskua h\xc3\xb6kkelins\xc3\xa4 pohjoispuolelle, jotta\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen ei tarvitsisi kulkea haudan ohi pime\xc3\xa4n aikana, kun h\xc3\xa4n palasi\r\nPereran luota. Ennen maatapanoaan h\xc3\xa4n tappoi kaksi k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rmett\xc3\xa4. Y\xc3\xb6n\r\nollessa pimeimmill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4n her\xc3\xa4si h\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4ht\xc3\xa4en ja erotti tassutusta ja\r\nraapimista. Hiljaa kohosi h\xc3\xa4n istualleen ja veti revolverinsa esiin\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4naluksen alta. Kuullessaan murinaa Pollock laukasi \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti.\r\nKuului, ulvahdus ja oviaukon sinerv\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4pi livahti jotain mustaa.\r\n"Koira!" sanoi Pollock, laskeutuen j\xc3\xa4lleen levolle.\r\n\r\nAamuh\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n her\xc3\xa4si j\xc3\xa4lleen omituiseen levottomuuden tunteeseen.\r\nTuo ep\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4inen s\xc3\xa4rky oli palannut h\xc3\xa4nen luihinsa. Jonkun aikaa h\xc3\xa4n\r\nmakasi t\xc3\xa4hystellen katossa kuhisevia punasia muurahaisia ja sitten, kun\r\nvalo k\xc3\xa4vi kirkkaammaksi, h\xc3\xa4n katsahti riippumattonsa reunan yli ja n\xc3\xa4ki\r\npermannolla jonkun mustan esineen. H\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4tk\xc3\xa4hti niin ankarasti, ett\xc3\xa4\r\nriippumatto k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi nurin ja viskasi h\xc3\xa4net maahan.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n huomasi makaavansa noin kyyn\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xa4n verran porroh-miehen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4. Koira\r\noli kaivanut sen maasta ja raadellut pahasti sen nen\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4. Muurahaisia ja\r\nk\xc3\xa4rp\xc3\xa4si\xc3\xa4 kuhisi sen kimpussa. Kummallisen sattuman kautta se oli yh\xc3\xa4\r\nviel\xc3\xa4 yl\xc3\xb6salasin ja nurin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneiss\xc3\xa4 silmiss\xc3\xa4 oli pirullinen ilme.\r\n\r\nPollock istui herpoutuneena, tuijottaen jonkun aikaa tuohon\r\npel\xc3\xa4tykseen. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n nousi yl\xc3\xb6s, kiersi sen ymp\xc3\xa4ri -- pitk\xc3\xa4n matkan\r\np\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4 -- ja astui ulos h\xc3\xb6kkelist\xc3\xa4. Auringon nousun kirkas valo,\r\nkasvullisuuden eloisa liikehtiminen heikkenev\xc3\xa4n maatuulen henk\xc3\xa4illess\xc3\xa4\r\nja tyhj\xc3\xa4 hauta k\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4nj\xc3\xa4lkineen kevensiv\xc3\xa4t hiukan h\xc3\xa4nen raskasta\r\nmielt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n kertoi tapahtuman Pereralle, ik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nkuin se olisi ollut pilajuttu --\r\npilajuttu joka kerrotaan kalpein huulin. "Teid\xc3\xa4n ei olisi pit\xc3\xa4nyt\r\ns\xc3\xa4ik\xc3\xa4hytt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 koiraa", Perera virkkoi huonosti teeskennellyll\xc3\xa4\r\nhilpeydell\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nSeuraavat kaksi p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ennen h\xc3\xb6yrylaivan tuloa Pollock vietti\r\nkoettamalla p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 todenteolla vapaaksi tuosta omaisuudestaan. H\xc3\xa4n sai\r\nvoitetuksi vastenmielisyytens\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4yd\xc3\xa4 siihen k\xc3\xa4siksi, l\xc3\xa4hti joen suulle\r\nja viskasi sen meriveteen. Mutta jonkun ihmeen kautta se s\xc3\xa4ilyi\r\nkrokotiileilta ja sen l\xc3\xb6ysi muuan \xc3\xa4lyk\xc3\xa4s puoli-araapialainen, joka\r\nsaapui juuri y\xc3\xb6n korvissa kauppaamaan sit\xc3\xa4 Pollockille ja Pereralle\r\nmuka merkillisen\xc3\xa4 esineen\xc3\xa4. Alkuasukas pysytteli heid\xc3\xa4n kintereill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n,\r\nalentaen hintaa alentamistaan. Mutta lopulta h\xc3\xa4neenkin tarttui se\r\nkauhu, jota nuo valkoihoiset n\xc3\xa4yttiv\xc3\xa4t tuntevan esinett\xc3\xa4 kohtaan; h\xc3\xa4n\r\nl\xc3\xa4hti tiehens\xc3\xa4 ja kulkiessaan Pollockin h\xc3\xb6kkelin ohi h\xc3\xa4n heitti\r\ntaakkansa sinne, josta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 sen sitten l\xc3\xb6ysi aamusella.\r\n\r\nT\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4 Pollock joutui aivan raivoihinsa. H\xc3\xa4n aikoi polttaa koko p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nHeti p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n valjetessa h\xc3\xa4n l\xc3\xa4hti ulos ja ennen helteen tuloa h\xc3\xa4nell\xc3\xa4\r\noli jo valmiina aimo rovio risuista. Silloin h\xc3\xa4net keskeytti pieni\r\nMonrovian ja Bathurstin v\xc3\xa4li\xc3\xa4 kulkeva siipilaiva, joka saapui puhaltaen\r\nrantariuttojen keskitse. "Taivaalle kiitos!" huudahti Pollock suurella\r\nhartaudella, kun tuon \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nen merkitys selvisi h\xc3\xa4nelle. Vapisevin k\xc3\xa4sin\r\nh\xc3\xa4n sytytti h\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4isesti risur\xc3\xb6ykki\xc3\xb6ns\xc3\xa4, heitti p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n siihen ja l\xc3\xa4hti\r\nasettamaan kuntoon matkalaukkunsa sek\xc3\xa4 sanomaan j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4hyv\xc3\xa4iset Pereralle.\r\n\r\nPerinpohjaista helpotusta tuntien n\xc3\xa4ki Pollock sin\xc3\xa4 iltap\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 Sulyman\r\nr\xc3\xa4meisen rannan h\xc3\xa4ipyv\xc3\xa4n et\xc3\xa4isyyteen. Joensuu, joka muodosti aukon\r\npitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n valkoiseen rantahyrskyyn, kapeni kapenemistaan. Tuntui silt\xc3\xa4,\r\nkuin sulkisi se syliins\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen vaivansa, vapauttaen h\xc3\xa4net siit\xc3\xa4. Kauhun\r\nja kiusan tunne alkoi v\xc3\xa4hitellen haihtua h\xc3\xa4nen mielest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Sulymassa\r\noli usko porroh-miesten pahansuopaisuuteen ja taikavoimaan saastuttanut\r\nilman, h\xc3\xa4netkin oli vallannut uhkaava ja kammottava tunne. Mutta\r\nilmeisesti porroh-miehill\xc3\xa4 oli hallussaan vain pieni alue, pieni musta\r\nkaistale meren ja mendien sinert\xc3\xa4vien yl\xc3\xa4maitten v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n"Hyv\xc3\xa4sti, porroh!" virkkoi Pollock. "Hyv\xc3\xa4sti -- eik\xc3\xa4 _n\xc3\xa4kemiin_!"\r\n\r\nLaivan kapteeni saapui h\xc3\xa4nen rinnalleen, nojasi kaidepuuhun,\r\ntoivotti h\xc3\xa4nelle hyv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 iltaa ja sylk\xc3\xa4si vaahtoavaan vanaveteen\r\nteeskentelem\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n yst\xc3\xa4vyyden osoitukseksi.\r\n\r\n"L\xc3\xb6ysin rannalta kerrassaan kummallisen esineen", puheli kapteeni. "En\r\nole koskaan ennen tavannut sellaista Intian t\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 puolen."\r\n\r\n"Mik\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n se mahtaa olla?" kysyi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Savustettu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4", sanoi kapteeni.\r\n\r\n"_Mik\xc3\xa4_?" kysyi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Ihmisp\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 -- savustettu. Jonkun porroh-veijarin p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, koristettu\r\nviilloksilla. No! Mik\xc3\xa4s nyt tuli? Eik\xc3\xb6 mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n? Enp\xc3\xa4 olisi uskonut teit\xc3\xa4\r\nniin hermostuneeksi. Kasvonne k\xc3\xa4viv\xc3\xa4t aivan viheli\xc3\xa4isiksi. Jumalauta,\r\nolettepa huono merimies. Kaikki hyvin? Hitto, kuinka te muutuitte!... No\r\nniin, tuo p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, josta juuri kerroin teille, on aika konstikas. Pistin\r\nsen k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rmeiden joukkoon er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen v\xc3\xa4kiviina-purkkiin, jossa s\xc3\xa4ilyt\xc3\xa4n\r\nsellaisia merkillisyyksi\xc3\xa4, ja piru minut perik\xc3\xb6\xc3\xb6n, ellei se viru\r\nyl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneen\xc3\xa4. Halloo!"\r\n\r\nPollock oli p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4st\xc3\xa4nyt k\xc3\xa4sitt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n huudahduksen ja raastoi k\xc3\xa4sill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntukkaansa. H\xc3\xa4n juoksi siipilaatikoita kohti, aikoen puolittain hyp\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nmereen, ja sitten h\xc3\xa4n ymm\xc3\xa4rsi asemansa ja k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyi takaisin kapteenin\r\nkimppuun.\r\n\r\n"Hei!" sanoi kapteeni. "Jack Philips, pid\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4net loitompana. Pysyk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nerill\xc3\xa4nne! Ei askeltakaan l\xc3\xa4hemm\xc3\xa4ksi, herraseni. Mik\xc3\xa4 teit\xc3\xa4 vaivaa?\r\nOletteko j\xc3\xa4rjilt\xc3\xa4nne?"\r\n\r\nPollock koetteli k\xc3\xa4dell\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4. Ei sit\xc3\xa4 kannattanut selitt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4,\r\n"Luulenpa, ett\xc3\xa4 olen toisinaan melkein mielipuoli", h\xc3\xa4n sanoi. "Minulla\r\non t\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4 s\xc3\xa4rky\xc3\xa4. Se tulee aivan \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4. Toivon, ett\xc3\xa4 suotte minulle\r\nanteeksi."\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n oli aivan kalpea ja hiess\xc3\xa4. \xc3\x84kki\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n k\xc3\xa4sitti t\xc3\xa4ysin selv\xc3\xa4sti,\r\nkuinka vaarallista h\xc3\xa4nelle oli saattaa j\xc3\xa4rkens\xc3\xa4 ep\xc3\xa4ilyksen alaiseksi.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n koetti pakostakin voittaa takaisin kapteenin luottamuksen\r\nvastaamalla h\xc3\xa4nen yst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4llisiin kyselyihins\xc3\xa4, ottamalla vaarin h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nehdotuksistaan, viel\xc3\xa4p\xc3\xa4 maistamalla lusikallisen h\xc3\xa4nen puhdasta\r\nkonjakkiansakin. Ja kun siit\xc3\xa4 asiasta oli selviydytty, h\xc3\xa4n teki joukon\r\nkysymyksi\xc3\xa4 kapteenin harjoittamasta eriskummallisten esineiden\r\nkaupasta. T\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 kuvaili p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 varsin yksityiskohtaisesti. Pollock\r\nkamppaili kaiken aikaa itsens\xc3\xa4 kanssa tukahuttaakseen sen luonnottoman\r\nluulon, ett\xc3\xa4 laiva oli yht\xc3\xa4 l\xc3\xa4pikuultava kuin lasi ja ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n saattoi\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti erottaa tuon yl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, joka katseli h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen jalkojensa alla olevasta hytist\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nOlo laivalla oli h\xc3\xa4nelle melkein tukalampaa kuin Sulymassa. Kaiken\r\np\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen t\xc3\xa4ytyi hillit\xc3\xa4 itse\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4, vaikka h\xc3\xa4n tunsikin el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4sti,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 tuo kauhea p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, joka synkisti h\xc3\xa4nen mielens\xc3\xa4, oli niin uhkaavan\r\nl\xc3\xa4hell\xc3\xa4. Y\xc3\xb6ll\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen vanha painajaisensa palasi h\xc3\xa4nen kimppuunsa,\r\nkunnes h\xc3\xa4n voimakkaalla ponnistuksella pakottautui valveille, kauhun\r\nj\xc3\xa4ykist\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 ja k\xc3\xa4he\xc3\xa4n huudahduksen pyrkiess\xc3\xa4 esiin h\xc3\xa4nen kurkustaan.\r\n\r\nH\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4tti tuon todellisen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n j\xc3\xa4lkeens\xc3\xa4 Bathurstiin, miss\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n siirtyi\r\nTeneriffan laivaan, mutta unet ja ankara luuvalo eiv\xc3\xa4t luopuneet\r\nh\xc3\xa4nest\xc3\xa4. Teneriffassa Pollock muutti Kapin linjalle, mutta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 seurasi\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n pelasi korttia, koetti shakkipeli\xc3\xa4, lukipa kirjojakin, mutta\r\nv\xc3\xa4kijuomat h\xc3\xa4n tiesi vaarallisiksi. Ja kuitenkin -- milloin hyv\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen silmiins\xc3\xa4 sattui ympyri\xc3\xa4inen musta varjo tai joku musta esine,\r\nniin h\xc3\xa4n otaksui sit\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ksi ja -- n\xc3\xa4kikin sen. H\xc3\xa4n tiesi varsin hyvin,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen mielikuvituksensa rupesi pett\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4, ja kuitenkin\r\ntuntui ajoittain silt\xc3\xa4, kuin olisi laiva, h\xc3\xa4nen matkustajatoverinsa,\r\nmerimiehet ja laaja ulappa kuuluneet jonkullaiseen utumaiseen\r\nhourekuvaan, joka riippui h\xc3\xa4nen ja kauhean todellisen maailman v\xc3\xa4lill\xc3\xa4,\r\nt\xc3\xb6in tuskin peitt\xc3\xa4en sen h\xc3\xa4nelt\xc3\xa4. Ja ainoa kielt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n todellinen\r\nesine oli porroh-mies, joka pisti pirullisen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 esiin tuon verhon\r\nl\xc3\xa4vitse. Sellaisina hetkin\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n nousi yl\xc3\xb6s ja kosketteli esineit\xc3\xa4,\r\nmaisteli tai jyrsi jotain, poltti tulitikulla k\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tai pisti itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nneulalla.\r\n\r\nTaistellen siten hurjasti ja \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nett\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 kiihtyneen mielikuvituksensa\r\nkanssa Pollock saapui viimein Englantiin. H\xc3\xa4n nousi maalle\r\nSouthamptonissa ja l\xc3\xa4hti Waterloon asemalta suoraa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 ajurilla\r\npankkiirinsa luo Cornhilliin. Siell\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n selvitti asiansa\r\nliikkeenhoitajan kanssa yksityisess\xc3\xa4 huoneessa ja kaiken aikaa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nriippui koristeen tavoin lieden mustalta marmorireunustalta ja tihkui\r\nverta tulisijan rautaristikolle. H\xc3\xa4n saattoi kuulla pisarain putoilevan\r\nja n\xc3\xa4hd\xc3\xa4 niiden punaavan ristikon.\r\n\r\n"Siev\xc3\xa4 sananjalka", virkkoi liikkeenjohtaja, seuraten h\xc3\xa4nen katsettaan.\r\n"Mutta se ruostuttaa ristikon."\r\n\r\n"Eritt\xc3\xa4in siev\xc3\xa4 sananjalka", vastasi Pollock. "Ja nytp\xc3\xa4 muistan.\r\nVoitteko suositella minulle jotain l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4ri\xc3\xa4 sairasmielisyytt\xc3\xa4 vastaan?\r\nMinua vaivaa -- miksi niit\xc3\xa4 nimitet\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n? -- hallusinatsionit."\r\n\r\nP\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 nauroi hurjasti, raivoisasti. Pollockia h\xc3\xa4mm\xc3\xa4stytti, ettei\r\nliikkeenhoitaja kuullut sit\xc3\xa4. Mutta t\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4 vain tuijotti h\xc3\xa4neen.\r\n\r\nSaatuaan l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rin osoitteen Pollock astui hetken kuluttua ulos\r\nCornhillille. Ei ollut ainoatakaan ajuria n\xc3\xa4kyviss\xc3\xa4 ja niin h\xc3\xa4n jatkoi\r\nmatkaansa kadun l\xc3\xa4nsip\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n ja koetti kulkea Mansion Housea vastap\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4\r\nolevan risteyksen poikki. Se ei juuri ole helpointa tottuneimmallekaan\r\nlontoolaiselle: k\xc3\xa4rryj\xc3\xa4, vankkureita, vaunuja, postirattaita ja\r\nomnibusseja liikkuu keskeytym\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 virtana; mutta sille, joka on\r\njuuri saapunut Sierra Leonen myrkyllisist\xc3\xa4 er\xc3\xa4maista, se on kiehuvaa,\r\npy\xc3\xb6rrytt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 sekamelskaa. Ja kun jalkojesi v\xc3\xa4liin yht\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 kimmahtaa\r\nkummipallon tavoin yl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntynyt p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4en maahan sattuessaan\r\nselvi\xc3\xa4 veritahroja, niin tuskinpa voinet v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 onnettomuutta. Pollock\r\nnosteli jalkojansa suonenvedontapaisesti, karttaakseen sit\xc3\xa4, ja\r\npotkaisi sit\xc3\xa4 sitten kiukkuisesti. Silloin h\xc3\xa4n sai ankaran sys\xc3\xa4yksen\r\nselk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja pureva tuska levisi h\xc3\xa4nen k\xc3\xa4sivarttansa pitkin.\r\n\r\nEr\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n omnibussin aisa oli osunut h\xc3\xa4neen ja yksi hevosista oli\r\nkavioillaan murskannut kolme sormea h\xc3\xa4nen vasemmasta k\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n -- ja\r\njuuri ne sormet, jotka h\xc3\xa4n ampui porroh-miehelt\xc3\xa4 poikki. H\xc3\xa4net\r\nvedettiin esiin hevosten jaloista ja h\xc3\xa4nen musertuneesta k\xc3\xa4dest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\ntavattiin l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rin osoite.\r\n\r\nPariin p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n ei Pollock tajunnut muuta kuin kloroformin \xc3\xa4itel\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nkirpe\xc3\xa4t\xc3\xa4 tuoksua, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 leikattiin, vaikka ei h\xc3\xa4n tuntenut mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nkipua, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n makasi hiljaa ja ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nelle annettiin ruokaa ja\r\njuomaa. Sitten h\xc3\xa4n sai hiukan kuumetta, k\xc3\xa4vi perin janoiseksi ja h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nvanha painajaisensa palasi uudelleen. Vasta sen ilmetess\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4n huomasi,\r\nett\xc3\xa4 se oli j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4net rauhaan yhdeksi p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4ksi.\r\n\r\n"Jos p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ni olisi murskautunut sormieni sijasta, niin kenties siit\xc3\xa4\r\nolisi p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ssyt kokonaan", virkkoi Pollock, tuijottaen miettiv\xc3\xa4isen\xc3\xa4\r\ner\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4seen tummaan pielukseen, joka oli ruvennut n\xc3\xa4ytt\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\nEnsi tilassa Pollock kertoi l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rille mielenh\xc3\xa4iri\xc3\xb6st\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. H\xc3\xa4n tunsi\r\nselv\xc3\xa4sti tulevansa hulluksi, ellei keksitt\xc3\xa4isi jotain parannuskeinoa.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n selitti n\xc3\xa4hneens\xc3\xa4 Dahomeyssa er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n mestauksen ja ett\xc3\xa4 er\xc3\xa4s p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nkummitteli nyt h\xc3\xa4nen mieless\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Luonnollisesti h\xc3\xa4n ei v\xc3\xa4litt\xc3\xa4nyt\r\nkertoa mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n todellisesta tapahtumasta. L\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4ri n\xc3\xa4ytti vakavalta.\r\n\r\nHetken kuluttua h\xc3\xa4n virkkoi ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6iden. "Saitteko lapsena paljon\r\nuskonnollista ohjausta?"\r\n\r\n"Varsin v\xc3\xa4h\xc3\xa4n", Pollock vastasi.\r\n\r\nL\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rin kasvot synkistyiv\xc3\xa4t hetkeksi. "En tied\xc3\xa4, oletteko kuullut\r\nihmeparannuksista -- tietysti ei niiden silti tarvitse olla ihmeit\xc3\xa4 --\r\nniit\xc3\xa4 toimitetaan Lourdesissa."\r\n\r\n"Pelk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n pahoin, etten min\xc3\xa4 juuri kelpaa uskolla l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kitt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4ksi",\r\nPollock lausui tuijottaen tummaan pielukseen.\r\n\r\nP\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4nsi arpiset piirteens\xc3\xa4 inhoittavaan irvistykseen. L\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4ri\r\nsiirtyi uudelle uralle.\r\n\r\n"Se on pelkk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 mielikuvitusta", h\xc3\xa4n sanoi, ruveten \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 puhumaan\r\nreippaasti. "Joka tapauksessa hyv\xc3\xa4 tilaisuus uskoparannukseen. Teid\xc3\xa4n\r\nhermostonne on kurjassa kunnossa, te olette tuollaisessa terveydellisen\r\nh\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ryyden tilassa, jolloin kummitukset kernaimmin saapuvat.\r\nMainitsemanne vaikutelma oli teille liian voimakas. Valmistan teille\r\nhiukan l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kett\xc3\xa4, joka vahvistaa hermostoanne -- etenkin aivojanne. Ja\r\nteid\xc3\xa4n t\xc3\xa4ytyy hankkia ruumiinliikuntoa."\r\n\r\n"Min\xc3\xa4 en kelpaa uskoparannukseen", sanoi Pollock.\r\n\r\n"Ja sen vuoksi meid\xc3\xa4n on parannettava mieliala. L\xc3\xa4htek\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 etsim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nvirkist\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ilmaa -- Skotlantiin, Norjaan, Alpeille" --\r\n\r\n"Vaikka Jerikoon, jos haluatte" -- virkkoi Pollock -- "minne Naamankin\r\nl\xc3\xa4hti."\r\n\r\nMutta niin pian kuin h\xc3\xa4nen sormensa sen sallivat, Pollock koetti\r\nurheasti seurata l\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4k\xc3\xa4rin neuvoa. H\xc3\xa4n yritti pelata jalkapalloa, mutta\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen mielest\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n se oli raivoisan yl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneen p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n potkimista\r\nkentt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 pitkin. H\xc3\xa4n ei kelvannut siihen kisaan. H\xc3\xa4n potki sokeasti,\r\njonkunlaisella kauhulla, ja kun h\xc3\xa4net asetettiin maalivahdiksi ja pallo\r\ntulla hujahutti h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 kohti, niin h\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4l\xc3\xa4hti \xc3\xa4kisti ja pakeni sen\r\ntielt\xc3\xa4. Ne arvoa alentavat jutut, joiden vuoksi h\xc3\xa4nen oli t\xc3\xa4ytynyt\r\npaeta Englannista vaeltamaan kuuman vy\xc3\xb6hykkeen maissa, eiv\xc3\xa4t sent\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\r\nolleet sulkeneet h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 pois miesten seurasta; mutta nyt h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmenettelyns\xc3\xa4, joka k\xc3\xa4vi yh\xc3\xa4 omituisemmaksi, saattoi miesyst\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4tkin\r\nkarttamaan h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4. Eik\xc3\xa4 tuo esine ollut en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 vain silmiin kuvastuva\r\nkappale, se mongerteli ja puheli h\xc3\xa4nelle. H\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 rupesi kauheasti\r\npelottamaan, ett\xc3\xa4 kun h\xc3\xa4n tarttui tuohon kummitukseen, se ei en\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nmuuttuisikaan joksikin huonekalustoon kuuluvaksi esineeksi, vaan\r\n_tuntuisi_ oikealta katkaistulta p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4. Yksin ollessaan h\xc3\xa4n sadatteli\r\nsit\xc3\xa4, pilkkaili ja uhkaili sit\xc3\xa4; kerran tai pari h\xc3\xa4n puhutteli sit\xc3\xa4\r\ntoisten seurassa, vaikka h\xc3\xa4n koettikin ep\xc3\xa4toivoisesti hillit\xc3\xa4 itse\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nH\xc3\xa4n tunsi ep\xc3\xa4luulon enenev\xc3\xa4n niiden silmiss\xc3\xa4, jotka tarkkasivat h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\r\n-- em\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 ja palvelijansa. Er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4n\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen serkkunsa Arnold --\r\nh\xc3\xa4nen l\xc3\xa4hin sukulaisensa -- saapui tervehtim\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ja houkuttelemaan\r\nh\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4 ulos -- ja tarkastelemaan h\xc3\xa4nen kuoppaisia kellert\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 kasvojaan\r\nuteliain silmin. Ja Pollockista tuntui, ett\xc3\xa4 hattu, jota serkku piti\r\nk\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n, ei ollutkaan mik\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n hattu, vaan Gorgon-p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, joko tuijotti\r\nh\xc3\xa4neen yl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyneen\xc3\xa4 ja uhkasi katseillaan h\xc3\xa4nen j\xc3\xa4rke\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4.\r\nMutta h\xc3\xa4n p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4tti yh\xc3\xa4 viel\xc3\xa4 vapautua siit\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n hankki polkupy\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4n ja\r\najaessaan routaista tiet\xc3\xa4 pitkin Wandsworthist\xc3\xa4 Kingstoniin h\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4kk\xc3\xa4si\r\nsen vieriv\xc3\xa4n h\xc3\xa4nen rinnallaan ja j\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4n tumman juovan j\xc3\xa4lkeens\xc3\xa4. H\xc3\xa4n\r\npuri hampaansa yhteen ja ajoi joutuisammin. Silloin yht\xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4, juuri kun\r\nh\xc3\xa4n laski alam\xc3\xa4ke\xc3\xa4 Richmond-puistoa kohti, kummitus kieri h\xc3\xa4nen eteens\xc3\xa4\r\nja py\xc3\xb6r\xc3\xa4n alle niin nopeasti, ettei h\xc3\xa4n enn\xc3\xa4tt\xc3\xa4nyt ajatella mit\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n.\r\nK\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntyess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n \xc3\xa4kki\xc3\xa4 v\xc3\xa4ltt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4kseen sit\xc3\xa4, h\xc3\xa4n sy\xc3\xb6ksyi rajusti muuatta\r\nkivir\xc3\xb6ykki\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4 vastaan ja taittoi vasemman ranteensa.\r\n\r\nJuttu p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ttyi juolu-aamuna. H\xc3\xa4n oli maannut kuumeessa kaiken y\xc3\xb6t\xc3\xa4,\r\nsiteet polttivat h\xc3\xa4nen rannettaan tulisen renkaan tavoin ja h\xc3\xa4n oli\r\nuneksinut el\xc3\xa4v\xc3\xa4mmin ja kamalammin kuin koskaan ennen. Koleassa,\r\nv\xc3\xa4ritt\xc3\xb6m\xc3\xa4ss\xc3\xa4, ep\xc3\xa4varmassa valossa, joka vallitsi ennen auringon nousua,\r\nh\xc3\xa4n kohousi vuoteessaan istumaan ja n\xc3\xa4ki p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n makaavan er\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ll\xc3\xa4\r\njalustalla pronssimaljan sijasta, joka oli ollut siin\xc3\xa4 y\xc3\xb6n aikana.\r\n\r\n"Tied\xc3\xa4n kyll\xc3\xa4, ett\xc3\xa4 se on pronssimalja", h\xc3\xa4n virkkoi, kaamean\r\nep\xc3\xa4ilyksen kouristaessa h\xc3\xa4nen syd\xc3\xa4nt\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Ennen pitk\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4 ep\xc3\xa4ilys valtasi\r\nh\xc3\xa4net kokonaan. Verkalleen ja v\xc3\xa4risten h\xc3\xa4n nousi vuoteeltaan ja astui\r\nk\xc3\xa4si koholla maljaa kohti. Nyt h\xc3\xa4n saisi varmasti huomata, ett\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmielikuvituksensa oli pett\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4net, h\xc3\xa4n saisi tuntea selv\xc3\xa4sti\r\npronssin sile\xc3\xa4n pinnan. Ep\xc3\xa4r\xc3\xb6ity\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n kokonaisen ikuisuuden ajan h\xc3\xa4n\r\nlaski lopulta sormensa p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n uurteiselle poskelle. H\xc3\xa4n veti ne takaisin\r\nsuonenvedontapaisesti. Huippukohta oli saavutettu. Tuntoaistikin oli\r\npett\xc3\xa4nyt h\xc3\xa4net.\r\n\r\nVavisten, kolahtaen vuoteeseensa, potkien jalkineitaan paljailla\r\njaloillaan, kaiken py\xc3\xb6riess\xc3\xa4 h\xc3\xa4nen ymp\xc3\xa4rill\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n tummassa sekamelskassa,\r\nh\xc3\xa4n kulki haparoiden peilip\xc3\xb6yt\xc3\xa4ns\xc3\xa4 luo, otti partaveitsens\xc3\xa4 esiin\r\nlaatikosta ja istui vuoteelleen pit\xc3\xa4en sit\xc3\xa4 k\xc3\xa4dess\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4n. Kuvastimesta h\xc3\xa4n\r\nn\xc3\xa4ki omat kasvonsa verett\xc3\xb6min\xc3\xa4, kuihtuneina, t\xc3\xa4ynn\xc3\xa4 \xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4rimm\xc3\xa4isen\r\nep\xc3\xa4toivon katkeruutta.\r\n\r\nNopeasti kuvastuivat h\xc3\xa4nen lyhyen el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4ntarinansa tapahtumat h\xc3\xa4nen\r\nmieleens\xc3\xa4. Kurja koti, viel\xc3\xa4 kurjempi koulu-aika, my\xc3\xb6hempien vuosien\r\nhuono el\xc3\xa4m\xc3\xa4, jossa toinen kunniaton teko seurasi toista; p\xc3\xa4iv\xc3\xa4nkoiton\r\nkoleassa valaistuksessa kaikki tuo rietas mielett\xc3\xb6myys n\xc3\xa4kyi nyt niin\r\narmottoman selv\xc3\xa4sti. Sitten seurasivat oleskelu majassa, kahakka\r\nporroh-miehen kanssa, paluumatka jokea pitkin alas Sulymaan,\r\nmendil\xc3\xa4is-salamurhaaja punaisine liinoineen, hurjat yritykset tuhota\r\ntuo p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4, h\xc3\xa4nen mielikuvitelmansa kasvaminen. Se oli mielikuvitelma! H\xc3\xa4n\r\n_tiesi_ sen. Pelkk\xc3\xa4 mielikuvitelma. Hetkiseksi h\xc3\xa4n tapaili toivoa. H\xc3\xa4n\r\nsiirsi katseensa kuvastimesta jalustaan, yl\xc3\xb6salasin k\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4ntynyt p\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4\r\nirvisti h\xc3\xa4nelle... Sidotun k\xc3\xa4tens\xc3\xa4 j\xc3\xa4ykistyneill\xc3\xa4 sormilla h\xc3\xa4n etsi\r\ntykytt\xc3\xa4vi\xc3\xa4 valtimoitansa. Aamu oli sangen kylm\xc3\xa4, veitsen ter\xc3\xa4 tuntui\r\naivan kuin j\xc3\xa4\xc3\xa4lt\xc3\xa4.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ER\xc3\x84IT\xc3\x84 KERTOELMIA ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Rundown'

'Lory, Robert'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Rundown\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Rundown\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Robert Lory\r\n\r\nRelease date: February 12, 2020 [eBook #61387]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUNDOWN ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n RUNDOWN\r\n\r\n BY ROBERT LORY\r\n\r\n All panhandlers ask for dimes--but\r\n this one had a very special purpose!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1963.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe subway train announced its arrival with a screech of grating steel.\r\nThe man was shoved from the car onto the platform by the eight p.m.\r\ncrowd. The noise and the abrupt handling of his body brought him to\r\nawareness.\r\n\r\nNot that he had been asleep or unconscious. Although he might have\r\nbeen. He didn\'t know for sure.\r\n\r\nHe found it hard to concentrate, but soon a sign over the platform came\r\ninto focus:\r\n\r\n WESTBORO\r\n\r\nIt meant nothing to him. The second thing he became aware of did.\r\n\r\nAnother train had replaced his, and directly in front of him was\r\nan army of people, dispassionate towards everything but its one\r\nobjective--to get on.\r\n\r\nThey came at him all at once, forming a pushing, elbowing, cursing,\r\njarring mass of humanity. He glanced off one to collide with another.\r\nHe escaped the punishment by a lunge to one side which ended with a\r\ncrash to the cold cement floor.\r\n\r\nHe regained some semblance of steadiness on his feet and looked at the\r\nsign. It was still Westboro. It still meant nothing to him.\r\n\r\nHe was lost.\r\n\r\nWhat was worse, he couldn\'t remember where he was lost _from_.\r\n\r\nHe turned to walk, he didn\'t know exactly where, when he smashed into a\r\nlittle boy eating an apple.\r\n\r\nThe boy reacted in a strange manner.\r\n\r\n"Leave me alone, you dirty man, you," the boy said. He dropped his\r\napple and ran off. Scared.\r\n\r\nThe man flushed with embarrassment, but the boy\'s remark made him look\r\ndown at himself.\r\n\r\nHe saw a dirty man. Filthy. His white shirt--it had been white\r\nonce--was torn at the elbow and was covered with grime, his shoes at\r\nthe toes were white where the black polish had worn completely off, his\r\npants reflected no evidence of ever having been pressed and the right\r\nleg was ripped from the knee down.\r\n\r\nTwo girls in their teens passed and giggled.\r\n\r\nHe was aware that others had noticed him.\r\n\r\n"Hey, lookit the bum," a fat jolly-rover called out to his three\r\non-the-towning cronies.\r\n\r\n"Bum," the man thought, and reached to his back pocket.\r\n\r\nNo wallet. But not long ago he had one, he was sure, because the feel\r\nof its absence was there. Somebody must have taken it, or he might\r\nhave lost it. In that crowd or on the subway or before.... He couldn\'t\r\nremember where he had been before.\r\n\r\nThe feeling of not remembering seemed familiar, and he tried hard to\r\nthink. But there was nothing static in his mind that he could hold on\r\nto. His mind wasn\'t blank anymore, it was a jumble. He somehow recalled\r\nhe had been looking for his money. He fumbled through his other pockets.\r\n\r\nHe found a dirty handkerchief and two cents.\r\n\r\nThe feel of the coins brought everything back.\r\n\r\nQuickly he felt his pulse. It was slower than he had ever known it to\r\nbe. Sure, there were times before when ... but then the doctor always\r\nhad been nearby. And this time, the most serious time of all--he looked\r\nup at the Westboro sign--he was lost. Perhaps, up on the streets, he\r\nwould recognize something.\r\n\r\nHe began to take the stairs at a run, but his breath came too hard, and\r\nhe walked the rest of the way to the turnstile. The arm caught tight as\r\nhe started to go through and a sharp pain want through his groin.\r\n\r\n"That\'s the way you go _in_, pal," somebody offered, and the man winced\r\nat the few laughs he had drawn. He saw the exit sign and walked quickly\r\ntoward it.\r\n\r\nThe night lights were just ahead as he collided with a woman loaded\r\nwith bundles. They spilled. "Sorry," he said, leaving her to her\r\nindignation, and at a faster pace he walked outside into the cool night\r\nair.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe had stopped walking and was leaning against the door of the Inn of\r\nSix Horses, which proudly displayed its name and namesakes in blue and\r\nwhite neon.\r\n\r\nHe had recognized nothing.\r\n\r\nHe had tried getting to the doctor\'s by cab, but no driver would listen\r\nto him without first seeing the fare, even though he assured them all\r\nthat he could get it from the doctor.\r\n\r\nA policeman had told him to move along or suffer the consequences of a\r\nthick nightstick.\r\n\r\nA drugstore proprietor had answered his request to use the phone by\r\nthreatening to call the policeman with the thick nightstick.\r\n\r\nA dime. One dime!\r\n\r\nHe remembered his Shakespeare.\r\n\r\nMy kingdom for a ... horse? Six horses. Maybe, just maybe, at the Inn\r\nof Six Horses....\r\n\r\nA short man at the bar, composing one half of the clientele, was\r\ncalling the bartender\'s attention to the fact that the six horses\r\noutside outnumbered the customers.\r\n\r\n"Go to blazes," the bartender commented on the short man\'s observation.\r\n\r\n"I should," said the short one. "Then George here would be Uncas, the\r\nlast of the Mohicans, riding your six old white stallions."\r\n\r\n"How do you know they\'re stallions?" George said. He was lean, mean and\r\nweary, looking as if he had just returned from a hard day of peddling\r\nvacuum cleaners.\r\n\r\nThe door banged shut and three pairs of eyes focused on a dirty man.\r\n\r\n"Here comes a touch," said Pete.\r\n\r\n"Please," said the man, his voice shaky and weak.\r\n\r\n"Before you go into your act, pal," Pete said, "understand this: Nobody\r\ngets nothing free here, this ain\'t no mission or nothing. This is a\r\nbusiness like any place else."\r\n\r\n"A real thriving business," mocked Shorty.\r\n\r\n"Please, a dime, I need a dime, that\'s all I--"\r\n\r\n"A _dime_?" George laughed. "For what, a cup of coffee? This is a\r\nhigh-class place. Beer costs fifteen cents here."\r\n\r\nShorty joined in with a snort. "Maybe he wants to call his girl."\r\n\r\n"I _need_ the dime," the man said, leaning on the bar for support.\r\n\r\n"A matter of real life and death, huh?" George said.\r\n\r\n"Yes. Look ... here, I have two cents, you take them."\r\n\r\nPete looked suspiciously at the two coins. "We don\'t sell nothing that\r\ncosts two cents."\r\n\r\n"You take the two cents, but give me a dime. _Please._"\r\n\r\n"Sharp businessman," noted George.\r\n\r\n"This is rich," said Pete. "Do you really expect to _buy_ a dime for\r\ntwo cents?"\r\n\r\nShorty said, "He just noticed how well you\'re doing. He figures you can\r\nafford the loss."\r\n\r\n"Boy, it burns me up," said Pete. "These professional bums make more in\r\na week than I see in a month."\r\n\r\n"You keep talking that way, and this clown will want to buy your\r\nbusiness for the two cents," Shorty said. "Ain\'t worth it," George said\r\nand banged his glass down. "Fill it," he directed Pete.\r\n\r\nAs Pete turned, the man made a lunge for George\'s change on the bar.\r\n\r\n"Watch him," warned Shorty.\r\n\r\nGeorge needed no warning. He had seen the man eying his money, and he\r\nhad hoped for just such a move. With a right fist to the side of the\r\nman\'s head, George took revenge for a bad day\'s work.\r\n\r\nThe man lay very still on the floor.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"What a paste," said Shorty, admiringly. "You could have killed him\r\nlike that."\r\n\r\n"He sure ain\'t doing much moving," said Pete, coming around the end of\r\nthe bar. "I\'d better take a look."\r\n\r\n"Man, I didn\'t hit him that hard."\r\n\r\n"Well, _man_, he sure asked for it," said Shorty. "And me and Pete will\r\nbe right here to tell the cops that the guy was a crook and tried to\r\nrob your money. Right, Pete?"\r\n\r\n"George, this guy\'s got no pulse," Pete said.\r\n\r\n"Watcha gonna do, George?" Shorty said.\r\n\r\n"Just shut up and wait a minute," Pete said. "I think he\'s trying to\r\nsay something."\r\n\r\nThe man\'s eyes pleaded with each of the three. His lips quietly formed\r\ntheir message:\r\n\r\n"Dime."\r\n\r\n"Wow, talk about persistence," said Shorty.\r\n\r\nGeorge looked at his change on the bar.\r\n\r\nHe picked up a dime.\r\n\r\n"Hey," said Shorty, "what are you doing?"\r\n\r\n"Shut up," said Pete. "George\'s money is George\'s money. What he does\r\nwith it is his business."\r\n\r\n"Look," George said, "I didn\'t mean to hit you so hard. I mean, I hit\r\nyou so hard my whole hand hurts. So here, you can have the dime, I\r\nwon\'t miss it."\r\n\r\nHe pressed the dime into the man\'s hand.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Holy cow," said Shorty. It was the first sound any of the three had\r\nmade after the man had left, fifteen minutes before.\r\n\r\nGeorge stared into the mirror behind the bar, seeking some mighty truth\r\nin his own reflection. "He says ... he says _Unbutton my shirt_, and\r\nthen...."\r\n\r\nGeorge fondled some coins in his hand. "Then he takes that crazy dime,\r\na plain old, regular, crazy dime...."\r\n\r\nPete poured himself a Scotch. "What kind of guy is it, anyway," he\r\nsaid, "who walks around with a slot in the middle of his chest that he\r\nputs dimes into?"\r\n\r\n"Yeah," said George, "and who _ticks_, yet?"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUNDOWN ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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"A Soldier's Home Is Battle"

'Stone, Lowell'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of A Soldier\'s Home Is Battle\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: A Soldier\'s Home Is Battle\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Lowell Stone\r\n\r\nRelease date: September 12, 2021 [eBook #66282]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SOLDIER\'S HOME IS BATTLE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Jerry watched from his gun post as the city\r\n vanished in a cloud of atomic smoke. His thoughts\r\n were of his wife and son, but duty demanded that--\r\n\r\n A Soldier\'s Home Is Battle\r\n\r\n By Lowell Stone\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n March 1954\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nBy the time the radar signal caught their eye it was too late to do\r\nanything. Planes traveling faster than sound were already inside the\r\ndefense zone of the city.\r\n\r\nPrivate First Class Jerry Conlon glanced from the radar screen to\r\nthe other five members of his Atomic Gun Post team on the outer\r\nperimeter of the city. The look in their eyes was one of dazed alarm.\r\nAutomatically he joined them in zipping shut radiation suits, and then\r\nthey went for the gun controls, knowing it was too late.\r\n\r\nA flash of intolerable brightness faded out the sun. One of the\r\nboys--Conlon saw him still struggling with his radiation suit--didn\'t\r\nmake it in time. He paid for his slowness with his life.\r\n\r\nIn that instant of death before his eyes, Jerry thought of his wife\r\nand baby son. It was all he had time for. Just the image in his mind.\r\nAn image of fear, because he wondered about them--were they dying even\r\nnow?\r\n\r\nWith the great flash Jerry dropped into the prone position that he\'d\r\nbeen taught. He was protected because the Gun Post had been holed into\r\nthe ground and re-enforced with steel-mesh concrete all around. If you\r\nsee the flash, it\'s too late, he\'d been told. Well, he\'d seen the flash\r\nall right. When he dropped to the concrete base, the floor rose to meet\r\nhim halfway. A few seconds later, the suction raised him off the floor\r\nand set him down next to the big gun.\r\n\r\nJerry crawled back to the protection of the bulwark. He had a hazy\r\nglimpse of movement around him, but he couldn\'t see well enough out of\r\nhis blinded eyes to make out what the others were doing. Things were\r\nbeginning to rain down out of the sky now, and it continued to rain for\r\nwhat seemed to Jerry like five or ten minutes. It was fantastic how\r\nhigh some of the debris must have been blasted into the air, and he\r\nwas afraid to move for a long time lest a rock or bit of metal should\r\nsuddenly streak down.\r\n\r\nIt was mostly just the smaller pieces that got as far as the Post. The\r\nbiggest chunks had either been completely disintegrated or splattered\r\nalong the ground in all directions from the target area. It had been\r\na direct hit. It only took one blast, but that didn\'t mean it was the\r\nonly one in the country. When the attack came, every big city had\r\nprobably been marked for destruction.\r\n\r\nEvery big city! The thought struck him with sickening force. His wife\r\nand little boy--Mildred and Billy! How about them? Had the blasts gone\r\ninland?\r\n\r\n"Conlon, are you all right?"\r\n\r\nThe sound of the voice stabbed at Jerry. He studied the wavering dark\r\nform in front of his eyes, and recognition of the voice came slowly.\r\nThe white blob of the face must belong to Lieutenant Blake. Ordinarily\r\nJerry would have snapped to attention and saluted, but at the moment\r\nthe formality seemed ridiculous.\r\n\r\n"I guess I\'m all right, sir."\r\n\r\n"Good!" That was all Blake said as he passed from Jerry\'s view.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn Jerry\'s earphones it sounded like a strong wind was blowing. It\r\ncould be the roar of a fleet of rocket planes. Was this the follow-up\r\nattack? Why wasn\'t the order given to man the gun? He groped forward\r\nand sprawled over a pile of debris. Where was everybody? Where was\r\nBlake? He called out.\r\n\r\n"Take it easy, Conlon," a voice said beside him.\r\n\r\n"Who--who is it?" Jerry asked, trying to determine the source of the\r\nvoice.\r\n\r\n"It\'s me--Adam Peterman. You\'ll be all right after awhile. What\'d you\r\ndo--look into the flash?"\r\n\r\n"I saw the flash. Good God! Am I going blind?"\r\n\r\n"I once looked at a test blast with a radiation suit on. They still\r\nhaven\'t perfected these lenses to shut out all the glare. You\'ll be\r\nlike that for a couple of hours."\r\n\r\n"How many of the boys did the blast get?"\r\n\r\nHere he was, Jerry thought, asking about the six men in the gun crew\r\nwhen there must have been thousands--maybe millions--dead in the city,\r\nor what must be left of it.\r\n\r\n"There\'s just three of us alive so far," Peterman said. "The\r\nLieutenant found Kroger, but he\'d been crushed. The rest are either\r\nburied or blown away."\r\n\r\n"How about you? I still can\'t see where you are," Jerry said. "Are you\r\nhurt?"\r\n\r\n"My legs got messed up. I\'m sitting on the ground. That\'s why you can\'t\r\nsee me."\r\n\r\n"What about the city? What\'s left of it?"\r\n\r\n"From where I\'m sitting I should be able to see the tops of some of the\r\ntaller buildings over the concrete, but there\'s nothing there. I hate\r\nto think about it."\r\n\r\n"If there is anything left, the rocket planes will bring \'em down."\r\n\r\n"What rocket planes?"\r\n\r\n"Can\'t you hear \'em? That roar in the air. It almost drowns out the\r\ngeiger meter on my suit."\r\n\r\n"Naw, Conlon, that isn\'t what you think! You\'re still hearing the sound\r\nof the blast."\r\n\r\n"After this long?"\r\n\r\n"It doesn\'t die out for a long time."\r\n\r\nJerry thought about Mildred and Billy. It was this bad even in a\r\nradiation suit with special lenses to protect the eyes; special braces\r\nto minimize the shock wave effects; special material perfected during\r\nthe latter part of the century to deflect ultra-radiation. How would\r\nMildred and Billy fare back home where they were unprotected? They\r\nmight even be dead. But no! They couldn\'t be! They were all he had\r\nleft in life. They just had to be alive!\r\n\r\nThe shadowy blob which was Lieutenant Blake, moved into Jerry\'s line\r\nof vision. Blake\'s form seemed to be getting smaller now; the haziness\r\naround the edges seemed to be dwindling.\r\n\r\n"How are you Peterman?" Blake asked the man with the wounded legs.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll make it all right, Lieutenant. I might even be able to sight the\r\ngun if you lift me into the seat."\r\n\r\n"Good man, Peterman!" Blake turned to Jerry, "Well, Conlon, it looks\r\nlike you and I are the only ones on our feet. That means we\'ve got work\r\nto do."\r\n\r\n"My eyes are bad, but I think they\'re clearing up now," Jerry said.\r\n\r\n"Things are pretty rough," Blake said. "From what I\'ve been able to\r\ndetermine, the whole nation\'s been blasted."\r\n\r\n"Lieutenant--no!" Jerry cried. He moved forward toward the Lieutenant\r\nand clutched Blake by the shoulders. "I\'ve got a wife and kid back\r\nhome!"\r\n\r\n"We all have relatives back home, Conlon. You\'re no different than\r\nanybody else. And it\'s just as bad for us as it is for you. You\'ve got\r\nto get a grip on yourself. There\'s nothing you can do for them one way\r\nor the other."\r\n\r\n"The hell there isn\'t! I\'m going back to \'em!"\r\n\r\nThe Lieutenant\'s covered hand whipped out and slapped the front of\r\nJerry\'s helmet below the vision lens. Jerry went backwards and dropped\r\nto the concrete floor.\r\n\r\n"Sorry, Conlon," Blake clipped. "I didn\'t do that in anger. I merely\r\nwanted to snap you back to your senses! You\'re still in the Army, and\r\nI\'m still your commanding officer. As far as the Army is concerned,\r\nnone of us have any relatives."\r\n\r\nJerry got to his feet. There was no question that the Lieutenant was\r\nright. The Army was the big boss, and soldiers were not supposed to\r\nhave personal feelings. There were several million soldiers protecting\r\nmany millions of people and the only way that Mildred and Billy could\r\nbe protected was through the combined and strategic effort of these\r\nsoldiers. There were soldiers in the interior risking their lives to\r\nprotect people like Mildred and Billy--soldiers with relatives in the\r\ncity that Jerry was supposed to protect. It would be a sorry plight if,\r\nat the first sign of trouble, all the men would run home to their own\r\nlittle families.\r\n\r\nIt all seemed like a crazy nightmare to Jerry. No matter how big the\r\ncatastrophe, human beings still worried about the little problems\r\nalong with the big. It was a strange feeling to look over the top of\r\nthe bulwark and see nothing but the dirty gray sky where the forms of\r\nbig buildings should be. The shock was less horrible to him because\r\nby the time his sight returned, he was accepting the awful scene of\r\ndestruction as an unchangeable fact.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was several hours later before a small contingent of radiation\r\nclothed soldiers arrived in several jeeps. A Colonel of the Army\r\nstepped out. Blake and Conlon stood at attention as the officers\r\nintroduced themselves. The Colonel\'s name was Harrison.\r\n\r\n"I\'m trying to find out what we have to work with. Not much, I\'m\r\nafraid," the Colonel said. "The Government\'s gone. Communication is\r\ndisrupted."\r\n\r\n"Did you say there was no more government, Colonel?" Jerry asked.\r\n\r\nThe Colonel nodded. "That\'s what I said."\r\n\r\n"Then there\'s no hope--nothing left to fight for any more?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing to fight for?" the Colonel snorted. "Soldier, as long as we\r\nhave our hills and valleys we\'ll have something to fight for!"\r\n\r\nLieutenant Blake said, "Private Conlon, no more of that defeatist talk!\r\nPlease excuse him, Colonel."\r\n\r\n"That\'s all right," the Colonel shrugged. "It\'s been a shock to all of\r\nus. Now, tell me, how are you fixed?"\r\n\r\n"Two able, counting myself. One bad casualty. One dead. Three missing,"\r\nBlake said.\r\n\r\n"You\'ll have one man replacement."\r\n\r\n"But, Colonel, that isn\'t enough to man the gun!"\r\n\r\n"Apparently you don\'t realize what\'s happened to the country,\r\nLieutenant! We\'re not attempting to hold back the enemy. When they come\r\nthey\'re going to flow right over us as though we aren\'t here."\r\n\r\n"Then what\'s the point of--"\r\n\r\n"The point is this. We have not received an order to surrender. We\r\nprobably never will."\r\n\r\nBlake said, "We\'ll do the best we can, Colonel."\r\n\r\nThe Colonel gave an order and one man crawled out of a jeep and strode\r\ntoward them. The soldier saluted.\r\n\r\n"He is your replacement, Lieutenant," the Colonel said. Then he shook\r\nhands with Blake. "Goodbye, and good luck!"\r\n\r\nThe jeeps growled into life. It was strange hearing them, Jerry\r\nthought. Usually there was the hum of the city in the background, a\r\nsort of whispering that made you realize a throbbing community was\r\nnearby. Now it was only the silence broken by the raucous sound of jeep\r\nmotors. Eventually even this sound disappeared.\r\n\r\n"All right, men, start clearing up this mess," Blake snapped. "The\r\ngun has to have free traverse. After that, stay at your posts. It\'s\r\ngoing to be tough to handle this assignment short-handed, and when the\r\nsecondary attack comes it\'s going to roll in like a tidal wave."\r\n\r\nThe replacement was hardly more than a kid. Jerry thought he looked\r\nas though he could be pushed over with a heavy breath. Not much of a\r\nreplacement, but he pitched into work earnestly.\r\n\r\nJerry edged close to Peterman as he worked. The wounded man sat propped\r\nagainst a pile with his legs stretched out uselessly in front.\r\n\r\n"They didn\'t even offer to give you medical aid, Peterman," Jerry said.\r\n\r\n"I didn\'t expect it at a time like this," Peterman said. "The men that\r\nare left have their hands full."\r\n\r\n"For what? You heard what the Colonel said, the Government is\r\ngone--possibly the whole country! What we\'re doing isn\'t even a\r\ndelaying action. We\'re hardly going to harass the Enemy! What\'s the\r\ngood of hanging on? Why doesn\'t the Army turn us loose? I\'ve got to\r\nfind out how my wife and kid are doing! Staying here only means one\r\nthing--one foolish, stupid thing!"\r\n\r\n"You\'ve got a point, Conlon," Peterman said through his pain. "I\'ve got\r\na family too. I\'d be tempted to take off myself, if I had legs."\r\n\r\n"Duty! Allegiance! What does it all mean now?" Jerry said bitterly.\r\n\r\n"Not much I suppose, when they pull the curtain in front of you."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nJerry was breathing hard inside his radiation suit. "Peterman, I\'ve got\r\na notion to make a break!"\r\n\r\n"That decision you\'ve got to make yourself, Conlon. Only remember, that\r\nleaving your post gives the Lieutenant the right to shoot you in the\r\nback!"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll take that chance. I\'ve got to see Mildred and Billy. You think\r\nyou\'d do the same thing, Peterman, if you had legs? Would you?"\r\n\r\n"I might. I don\'t know. I\'m in no position to give it much thought."\r\n\r\n"But don\'t you think this is stupid to wait for certain death when\r\nthere\'s no hope--when I\'ve got the chance to see the ones I love, maybe\r\nfor the last time?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s stupid all right I guess."\r\n\r\n"You\'ve got loved ones, haven\'t you, Peterman? You know how much it\r\nmeans?" Peterman clammed and refused to talk.\r\n\r\nJerry went to the storage which was built into the side of the\r\nconcrete wall, opened the door, and brought out his rifle. He examined\r\nthe automatic weapon and found it undamaged. He looked around.\r\nLieutenant Blake was out of sight inside the dugout where he was still\r\ntrying to pick up messages. The replacement was mechanically heaving\r\ndebris away from the traverse frame of the big gun.\r\n\r\n"Conlon." It was Peterman calling.\r\n\r\n"What do you want?"\r\n\r\n"There\'s only one thing I\'d like you to do before you leave. You and\r\nthe replacement lift me to the gunner\'s seat, will you? I have a bad\r\ndose of radiation on top of everything else. I don\'t know how long I\r\ncan hold out, but I might as well be doing some good for the time I\r\nhave left."\r\n\r\nJerry put the rifle down, called to the replacement. Together they\r\nhoisted Peterman into the seat. Lieutenant Blake came out just as they\r\nfinished the job.\r\n\r\n"That\'s what he wanted, sir," Jerry said. "You\'re so short-handed we\r\ndidn\'t think you\'d object."\r\n\r\nBlake said, "Peterman, you should be keeping yourself quiet."\r\n\r\nPeterman failed to answer for a long moment. Finally he said, "Damn the\r\nEnemy! Why don\'t they hurry up and get it over with?"\r\n\r\nJerry walked over to where he had stacked his automatic rifle. He swung\r\nit under his arm and turned to face the Lieutenant.\r\n\r\n"I\'m leaving, sir. Don\'t try to stop me! What we\'re doing here is plain\r\nstupid. I\'ve got a wife and kid that I\'ve got to see before I die! I\'m\r\nleaving, and I\'ll shoot to kill if anybody tries to stop me! Got that,\r\nLieutenant?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m not going to stop you, Conlon," Blake said quietly.\r\n\r\n"I hope the rest of you can manage the gun while I\'m gone!" Jerry cried.\r\n\r\n"We\'ll manage all right until you get back."\r\n\r\nA faint far-away roar sounded in Jerry\'s earphones. The sound became\r\nrapidly louder. "No sense in me coming back, Lieutenant, because from\r\nthe sound of things, you won\'t be around much longer."\r\n\r\nJerry backed toward the concrete steps that would take him to ground\r\nlevel. He climbed up, kicking away litter so that he would have places\r\nfor his feet. He kept the rifle pointed at the motionless, watching\r\nmen. The roar became louder.\r\n\r\nLieutenant Blake called up to him. "You\'re from the inland area, aren\'t\r\nyou, Conlon? I think the chances for your family were pretty good.\r\nEmergency stations are starting to come through from the interior. The\r\nguided missiles had a lot of near-misses."\r\n\r\nOut of the corners of Jerry\'s eyes he detected a strange looking dark\r\ncloud appearing along the horizon. From the west, not the east! That\r\nwas odd. The dark cloud spread across the horizon, coming closer.\r\nRocket planes! Hundreds of them!\r\n\r\nJerry was at ground level now. Up here there would be no protection. A\r\nblast and shock wave could sweep across the flat ground unhindered. The\r\nroar became deafening. Now he could recognize the ships. They were Army\r\nComets!\r\n\r\nHe wanted to leap with joy. His spine tingled with excitement. The\r\ncloud was roaring overhead now. The Comets flashed onward, bent on a\r\npurpose, a death-dealing, earth-shaking purpose! That\'s the way the\r\nEnemy had wanted it. The Enemy had chosen its weapon, and the Army was\r\non its way to blow the Enemy so sky-high that its own attack on Jerry\'s\r\nhomeland would seem insignificant by comparison.\r\n\r\nJerry tossed his rifle over the edge of the bulwark. The thunder\r\noverhead snuffed out the clatter of the rifle when it struck the\r\nconcrete below. Jerry went down the steps holding his hands over\r\nhis head. It was a full minute before he stumbled back to where he\r\nhad started. "I changed my mind about leaving, Lieutenant!" Jerry\r\nshouted. He might as well have been trying to shout above the roar of a\r\nhurricane.\r\n\r\nThe Lieutenant waved Jerry\'s arms down, and Jerry was close enough to\r\ndetect a smile inside the Lieutenant\'s helmet. Blake turned and walked\r\naway in the direction of the dugout as though nothing had happened.\r\n\r\nJerry pointed skyward, and the men wagged their heads understandingly.\r\n\r\n"Hell," Jerry cried, "this war isn\'t over yet!"\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SOLDIER\'S HOME IS BATTLE ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'A Journey to the Interior of the Earth'

'Verne, Jules'

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'The Flying Cuspidors'

'Francis, V. R.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Flying Cuspidors\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Flying Cuspidors\r\n\r\nAuthor: V. R. Francis\r\n\r\nRelease date: August 21, 2009 [eBook #29749]\r\n Most recently updated: January 5, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING CUSPIDORS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n _A trumpet-tooter in love can be a wonderful sight, if Local 802\r\n will forgive our saying so; when extraterrestrials get involved\r\n too--oh brother! V. R. Francis, who lives in California and has\r\n previously appeared in men\'s magazines, became 21 and sold to\r\n FANTASTIC UNIVERSE all in the same week._\r\n\r\n\r\n the\r\n flying\r\n cuspidors\r\n\r\n _by ... V. R. Francis_\r\n\r\n\r\n This was love, and what could be done about it?\r\n It\'s been happening to guys for a long time, now.\r\n\r\n\r\nHotlips Grogan may not be as handsome and good-looking like me or as\r\nbrainy and intellectual, but in this fiscal year of 2056 he is the\r\ngonest trumpet-tooter this side of Alpha Centauri. You would know what I\r\nmean right off if you ever hear him give out with "Stars Fell on Venus,"\r\nor "Martian Love Song," or "Shine On, Harvest Luna." Believe me, it is\r\nout of this world. He is not only hot, he is radioactive. On a clear day\r\nhe is playing notes you cannot hear without you are wearing special\r\nequipment.\r\n\r\nThat is for a fact.\r\n\r\nMostly he is a good man--cool, solid, and in the warp. But one night he\r\nis playing strictly in three or four wrong keys.\r\n\r\nI am the ivory man for this elite bunch of musicians, and I am scooping\r\nup my three-dee music from the battered electronic eighty-eight when he\r\ncomes over looking plenty worried.\r\n\r\n"Eddie," he says, "I got a problem."\r\n\r\n"You got a problem, all right," I tell him. "You are not getting a job\r\nselling Venusian fish, the way you play today."\r\n\r\nHe frowns. "It is pretty bad, I suppose."\r\n\r\n"Bad is not the word," I say, but I spare his feelings and do not say\r\nthe word it is. "What gives?"\r\n\r\nHe looks around him, careful to see if anybody in the place is close\r\nenough to hear. But it is only afternoon rehearsal on the gambling ship\r\n_Saturn_, and the waiters are busy mopping up the floor and leaning on\r\ntheir long-handled sterilizers, and the boys in the band are picking up\r\ntheir music to go down to Earth to get some shut-eye or maybe an atomic\r\nbeer or two before we open that night.\r\n\r\nHotlips Grogan leans over and whispers in my ear. "It is the thrush," he\r\nsays.\r\n\r\n"The thrush?" I say, loud, before he clamps one of his big hands over my\r\nkisser. "The thrush," I say, softer; "you mean the canary?"\r\n\r\nHe waves his arms like a bird. "Thrush, canary--I mean Stella\r\nStarlight."\r\n\r\nFor a minute I stand with my mouth open and think of this. Then I rubber\r\nfor the ninety-seventh time at the female warbler, who is standing\r\ntalking to Frankie, the band leader. She is a thrush new to the band and\r\nplenty cute--a blonde, with everything where it is supposed to be, and\r\nmaybe a little extra helping in a couple spots. I give her my usual\r\napproving once-over, just in case I miss something the last ninety-six\r\napproving once-overs I give her.\r\n\r\n"What about her?" I say.\r\n\r\n"It is her fault I play like I do," Hotlips Grogan tells me sadly. "Come\r\non. Leave us go guzzle a beer and I will tell you about it."\r\n\r\nJust then Frankie comes over, looking nasty like as usual, and he says\r\nto Grogan, "You are not playing too well today, Hotlips. Maybe you hurt\r\nyour lip on a beer bottle, huh?"\r\n\r\nAs usual also, his tone is pretty short on sweetness and light, and I do\r\nnot see why Grogan, who looks something like a gorilla\'s mother-in-law,\r\ntakes such guff from a beanpole like Frankie.\r\n\r\nBut Grogan only says, "I think something is wrong with my trumpet. I\r\nhave it fixed before tonight."\r\n\r\nFrankie smirks. "Do that," he says, looking like a grinning weasel. "We\r\nwant you to play for dancing, not for calling in Martian moose."\r\n\r\nFrankie walks away, and Hotlips shrugs.\r\n\r\n"Leave us get our beer," he says simply, and we go to the ferry.\r\n\r\nWe pile into the space-ferry with the other musicians and anyone else\r\nwho is going down to dirty old terra firma, and when everybody who is\r\ngoing aboard is aboard, the doors close, and the ferry drifts into\r\nspace. Hotlips and I find seats, and we look back at the gambling ship.\r\nIt is a thrill you do not get used to, no matter how many times you see\r\nit.\r\n\r\nThe sailor boys who build the _Saturn_--they give it the handle of\r\n_Satellite II_ then--would not know their baby now, Frankie does such a\r\ngood job of revamping it. Of course, it is not used as a gambling ship\r\nthen--at least not altogether, if you know what I mean. Way back in 1998\r\nwhen they get it in the sky, they are more interested in it being useful\r\nthan pretty; anybody that got nasty and unsanitary ideas just forgot\r\nthem when they saw that iron casket floating in a sky that could be\r\nfilled with hydrogen bombs or old laundry without so much as a four-bar\r\nintro as warning.\r\n\r\nFrankie buys _Satellite II_ at a war surplus sale when moon flights\r\nbecome as easy as commuters\' trips, and he smoothes out its shape so it\r\nlooks like an egg and then puts a fin around it for ships to land on.\r\nAfter that, it does not take much imagination to call it the _Saturn_.\r\nThen he gets his Western Hemisphere license and opens for business.\r\n\r\nMy daydreaming stops, for suddenly Hotlips is grabbing my arm and\r\npointing out the window.\r\n\r\n"What for are you grabbing my arm and waving your fist at the window,\r\nHotlips?" I inquire politely of him.\r\n\r\n"Eddie," he whispers, all nervous and excited from something, "I see\r\none."\r\n\r\nI give him a blank stare. "You see one what?"\r\n\r\n"One flying cuspidor," he says, his face serious. "I see it hanging out\r\nthere by the _Saturn_ and then suddenly it is gone. Whoosh."\r\n\r\n"Hallucination," I tell him. But I look out hard and try to see one too.\r\nI don\'t, so I figure maybe I am right, after all.\r\n\r\nI do not know about this "men from space" gimmick the science-fiction\r\npeople try to peddle, but lots of good substantial citizens see flying\r\ncuspidors and I think to myself that maybe there is something to it. So\r\nI keep looking back at the _Saturn_, but nothing unusual is going on\r\nthat I can see. My logic and super-salesmanship evidently convinces\r\nHotlips, for he does not say anything more about it.\r\n\r\nAnyway, in a few minutes we joggle to a stop at Earthport, pile out,\r\nwave our identification papers at the doorman with the lieutenant\'s\r\nbars, and then take off for the _Atomic Cafe_ a block away.\r\n\r\nEntering this gem of a drinking establishment, we make our way through\r\nthe smoke and noise to a quiet little corner table and give Mamie the\r\nhigh-sign for two beers. A few minutes later she comes bouncing over\r\nwith the order and a cheery word about how invigorating it is to see us\r\nhigh-class gentlemen instead of the bums that usually hang around a\r\njoint like this trying to make time with a nice girl like her.\r\n\r\n"That is all very nice," I say to her politely, "and we are overjoyed\r\nbeyond words to see you too, Mamie, but Hotlips and I have got strange\r\nand mysterious things to discuss, so I would appreciate it if you would\r\nsee us later instead of now." With this, I give her arm a playful pat,\r\nand she blushes and takes the hint.\r\n\r\nWhen we are alone, I ask Hotlips, now what is the trouble which he has.\r\n\r\n"Like I tell you before," Hotlips says, "I have a problem. So here it\r\nis." He takes a deep breath and lets fly all at once. "I am in love of\r\nthe thrush, Stella Starlight."\r\n\r\nI am drinking my beer when he says this, and suddenly I get a snootful\r\nand start coughing, and he whams me on the back with his big paw so I\r\nstop, more in self-defense than in his curing me. Somehow, the idea of a\r\nbig bruiser like Hotlips Grogan in love of a sweet fluffy thing like\r\nStella Starlight seems funny.\r\n\r\n"So?" I say.\r\n\r\n"So that is why I play so bad tonight," he says. Seeing I do not quite\r\ncatch on to the full intent of his remarks, he continues. "I am a happy\r\nman, Eddie. I got my trumpet, a paid-for suit of clothes, a one-room\r\napartment with green wallpaper. Could a man ask for much more?"\r\n\r\n"Not unless he is greedy," I agree.\r\n\r\nHotlips Grogan is staring at his beer as though he sees a worm in it and\r\nlooking sadder than ever. "It is a strange and funny thing," he says,\r\ndreamy-like. "There she is singing, and there I am giving with the\r\ntrumpet, and all of a great big sudden--whammo!--it hits me, and I feel\r\na funny feeling in my stomach, like maybe it is full of supersuds or\r\nsomething, and my mouth is dry just like cotton candy."\r\n\r\n"Indigestion," I suggest.\r\n\r\nHe shakes his big head. "No," he says, "it is worse than indigestion."\r\nHe points to his stomach and sighs. "It is love."\r\n\r\n"Fine," I say, happy it is not worse. "All you got to do is tell her,\r\nget married and have lots and lots of kids."\r\n\r\nHotlips Grogan\'s big eyebrows play hopscotch around his button nose, so\r\nI can tell he does not think I solve all his troubles with my\r\nsuggestion.\r\n\r\n"You are a good man, Eddie," he tells me, "but you are too intellectual.\r\nThis is an affair of the heart." He sighs again. "I am never in love of\r\na girl before," he goes on, more worried, "and I do not know how to act.\r\nBesides, the thrush is with us only a day, and Frankie already is making\r\nwith the eyes."\r\n\r\n"So what should I do, give you lessons?" The idea is so laughable I\r\nlaugh at it. "Anyway, Frankie always makes with the eyes at thrushes."\r\n\r\n"Yes," Hotlips Grogan admits, "but never before have I been in love of\r\nany of the thrushes Frankie has made with the eyes at. Frankly, Eddie, I\r\nam worried like all get out about this."\r\n\r\n"Sometimes I do not even understand the way you play even before the\r\nthrush comes, Hotlips," I admit. "Like for instance yesterday when we\r\nplay \'A Spaceship Built for Two.\' This is a song, as you know, that does\r\nnot have in it many high notes, but even when you play the low notes\r\nthey sound somewhat like they maybe are trying to be high notes. It is a\r\nmatter which is perplexing to one of my curious nature."\r\n\r\nHotlips looks sheepish for a minute and then he says, "It is a physical\r\ndisability with me, Eddie. When I am young and practicing with my\r\ntrumpet one day, I have an accident and get my tongue caught in the\r\nmouthpiece, and it is necessary for the doctor to operate on my tongue\r\nand cut into it like maybe it is chopped liver."\r\n\r\n"I am sorry to hear this, Hotlips," I say.\r\n\r\n"I do not tell anyone this before, Eddie," Hotlips confesses. "But\r\nafterward when I play the trumpet, I play two notes at one time, which\r\nat first is pretty embarrassing."\r\n\r\n"This is great, Hotlips," I proclaim as a big idea hits me; "you can\r\nplay your own harmony. With talent like that, and my brain--"\r\n\r\nBut Hotlips is shaking his head. "No, Eddie," he says. "The other note\r\nis way off in the stratosphere someplace and no one can hear it, even\r\nwhen the melody note is low. And the higher the note is you can hear,\r\nthe higher the other note is you cannot hear. Besides, now I cannot even\r\nplay what I am supposed to play, what with the thrush around."\r\n\r\nI sit there with my beer in my hand and think about it for a while,\r\nwhile Hotlips looks at me like a lost sheepdog. I scratch my head but I\r\ndo not even come up with dandruff.\r\n\r\nFinally, I say, "Well, thrush or not, if you play no better than you do\r\nthis afternoon, Frankie will make you walk back home without a\r\nspacesuit."\r\n\r\n"That is for positive," Hotlips agrees sadly. "So what can I do?"\r\n\r\nI am forced to admit that I do not know just what Hotlips can do.\r\n"However," I say, "I have an idea." And I call Mamie over and tell her\r\nthe problem. "So you are a woman and maybe you know what my musician\r\nfriend can do," I suggest.\r\n\r\nMamie sighs. "I am at a loss for words concerning what your friend can\r\ndo, but I know just how he feels, for it is like that with me, too. I am\r\nin love of a handsome young musician who comes in here, but he does not\r\ntake notice of me, except to order some beer for him and his friend."\r\n\r\nI click my teeth sympathetically at this news.\r\n\r\n"And I am too shy and dignified a girl to tell him," Mamie continues\r\nsadly. "So you see I have the same problem as your friend and cannot\r\nhelp you."\r\n\r\n"See," I whisper to Hotlips, "it is perfectly normal."\r\n\r\n"Yes," he hisses back. "But I am still miserable, and the only company I\r\ndesire is that of Stella Starlight."\r\n\r\n"Maybe it really is your trumpet," I suggest, not very hopeful, though.\r\n\r\nHotlips shakes his head. "Look," he says and takes the trumpet from his\r\ncase and puts it to his lips, "and listen to this."\r\n\r\nInwardly, I quiver like all get out, because I figure that is just what\r\nthe management will tell us to do, once Hotlips lets go. Hotlips puffs\r\nout his cheeks and a soft note slides from the end of the trumpet--low,\r\nclear, and beautiful, without a waver in a spaceload. Only a few people\r\nclose by can hear the note and they do not pay us any attention, except\r\nto think that maybe we are a little nuttier than is normal for\r\nmusicians.\r\n\r\nFrom his first note, Hotlips shifts to a higher note which is just as\r\npretty. Then he goes on to another one and then to another, improvising\r\na melody I do not hear before and getting higher all the time. After a\r\nwhile I can hardly hear it, it is so high, but I can feel the glass in\r\nmy hand vibrating like it wants to get out on the floor and dance. I\r\nhold on to it with both hands, so my beer will not slosh over the side.\r\nThen there is no sound at all from the trumpet, but Hotlips\' cheeks are\r\npuffed out and he is still blowing for all he is worth--which is plenty,\r\nif he can play like this when Stella Starlight is around.\r\n\r\nI tap Hotlips on the shoulder. "Hotlips, that is all very well for any\r\nbats in the room which maybe can hear what you play, but--" He does not\r\npay me any attention.\r\n\r\nSuddenly there is a large crinkle-crash of glass from the bar and a\r\nhoarse cry from the bartender as he sees his king-size mirror come down\r\nin little pieces. At the same time, glasses pop into fragments all over\r\nthe room and spill beer over the people holding them. Even my own glass\r\nbecomes nothing but ground glass and the beer sloshes over the table. At\r\nthe moment, however, I do not worry about that.\r\n\r\nThere are other things to worry about which are more important--like\r\nHotlips\' and my health, for instance, which is not likely to be so good\r\nin the near future.\r\n\r\nLike I say, Hotlips does not play loud and it is noisy in the place, so\r\nthere are not too many who hear him. But they look around, all mad and\r\ncovered with beer, and see him there with the trumpet in his hand and a\r\nfunny look on his big face, and they put two and two together. I can see\r\nthey figure the answer is four. And what makes things worse, they are\r\nbetween us and the front door, so we cannot sneak past like maybe we are\r\njust tourists.\r\n\r\n"Hotlips," I say to him, my voice not calm like is usual, "I think it is\r\na grand and glorious idea that we desert here and take ourselves\r\nelsewhere."\r\n\r\nHotlips agrees. "But where?" he wants to know.\r\n\r\nI am forced to admit to myself that he comes up with a good question.\r\n\r\n"Over here," Mamie said suddenly, and we look across the room to see\r\nher poking her nose through a side door.\r\n\r\nWe do not wait for a formal invite but zoom across the floor and through\r\nthe door into another, emptier room. Mamie slams the door and locks it\r\njust as two or three bodies thump into it like they mean business.\r\n\r\n"The manager is out there and is not completely overjoyed with your\r\nactions of a short while ago," Mamie informs us, explaining, "I\r\nrecognize the thump the character makes."\r\n\r\n"Evidently," I surmise, "he is in no mood to talk to concerning damages\r\nand how we can get out of paying them, so we will talk to him later\r\ninstead of now."\r\n\r\n"See what I mean, though, Eddie," Hotlips says. "I play fine when Stella\r\nStarlight is not in the place. Like I say, it is love and what can I do\r\nabout it."\r\n\r\n"It is a problem," I say. "Even if you _do_ play, you will no doubt be\r\nfired and cannot pay for the damages to the bar room and to the\r\ncustomers\' clothing." Already there are holes in my plastic clothing\r\nwhere the beer splashes. "If you can only give out on the _Saturn_ like\r\nyou play here," I sigh, "we can break all records and show Frankie--"\r\n\r\nSuddenly Mamie is tugging at my arm.\r\n\r\n"Mamie," I inquire politely of her, "why are you tugging at my arm?"\r\n\r\n"That is it," she informs me and leans forward and whispers in my ear.\r\n\r\n"But--" I say.\r\n\r\n"Hurry," she says, pushing us out another door. "You have only got this\r\nafternoon to do it."\r\n\r\n"But--" I say again, and Hotlips and I are in the alley looking at the\r\ndoor which Mamie closes in our face.\r\n\r\n"What does Mamie say?" Hotlips wants to know eagerly. "Can she fix it up\r\nwith me and Stella Starlight?"\r\n\r\nI scratch my head. "That I do not know, Hotlips, but she does give me an\r\nidea which is so good I am surprised at myself I do not think of it\r\nalone."\r\n\r\nHotlips gives me a blank stare. "Which is?"\r\n\r\n"Come on," I say mysteriously. "You and me have got things to do."\r\n\r\nIt is hard to say who is more nervous that night, Hotlips or a certain\r\npiano player with my name. Frankie is smirking like always, and Stella\r\nStarlight is sitting and looking beautiful while she waits for her cue.\r\nHotlips is fumbling with his trumpet like maybe he never sees one\r\nbefore. And I--even I am not exactly calm like always.\r\n\r\nThe band begins to warm up, but we do not knock ourselves out because\r\nthere are still no customers to speak of. Frankie\'s license makes it\r\nplain that he has to stay over the western hemisphere so he has to wait\r\nuntil it gets dark enough there for the people to want to go\r\nnight-clubbing, even though it is not really night on the _Saturn_, or\r\nmorning or anything else.\r\n\r\nWe play along like always, and Hotlips has his trumpet pressed into his\r\nface, and nothing but beautiful sounds come from the band. I do not know\r\nif Frankie is altogether happy about this, for he does not like Hotlips\r\nand would like this chance to bounce him. But what surprises me most is\r\nthat the thrush, Stella Starlight, keeps looking back at Hotlips like\r\nshe notices him for the first time and is plenty worried by what she\r\nsees.\r\n\r\nWe have a short break after a while and I am telling Hotlips that the\r\nidea goes over real great, when Stella Starlight waltzes over. Hotlips\'\r\nbig eyes bug out and I can see him shaking and covered with goosebumps.\r\n\r\n"You do not play like that before, Hotlips," she coos. "What did you\r\ndo?"\r\n\r\nHotlips blushes and stammers, "Eddie and I fix--" But I give him a kick\r\nin his big shins before he gives the whole thing away.\r\n\r\n"Hotlips does some practicing this afternoon," I tell her, "to get his\r\nlip in shape for tonight."\r\n\r\nShe looks at me like she is looking through me, and then she turns back\r\nto Hotlips and says, soft and murmuring: "Please do not play too high,\r\nHotlips. I am delicate and am disturbed by high sounds."\r\n\r\nShe waltzes away, and I scratch my head and try to figure out what this\r\npitch is for. Hotlips is not trying to figure out anything; he just sits\r\nthere looking like he has just got his trumpet out of hock for the last\r\ntime.\r\n\r\n"Hotlips," I say to him.\r\n\r\n"Go away, please, Eddie," he tells me. "I am in heaven."\r\n\r\n"You will be in the poorhouse or maybe even in jail if you tell somebody\r\nhow we fix your playing," I warn him.\r\n\r\n"I still feel funny feelings though, Eddie," he tells me, frowning,\r\n"like I cannot hit high notes now if I try."\r\n\r\n"Then do not try," I advise. "One problem at a time is too much."\r\n\r\nThere is a commotion at the entrance on the other side of the dance\r\nfloor, where some people all dressed up come in. A woman is holding her\r\nhead and moaning and threatening to faint all over the place.\r\n\r\nFrankie hurries over to us, running fidgety hands through his hair. "For\r\ngoodness sake, play something," he almost begs.\r\n\r\n"What gives?" I inquire.\r\n\r\n"Flying cuspidors," Frankie says in a frantic tone. "They are all around\r\nthe place, like they are maybe mad at something, and a few minutes ago\r\nthey buzz the ferry and get the passengers all nervous and upset. If\r\nthey do that again, business will be bad; maybe even now it will be bad.\r\nPlay something!"\r\n\r\nHe hops out in front with his baton and gives us a quick one-two, and we\r\nall swing into "Space On My Hands," real loud so as to get people\'s\r\nminds off things which Frankie wants to get people\'s minds off of.\r\n\r\nStella Starlight gets up to sing, but she looks more like she would\r\nrather do something else. She stares at Hotlips and at the trumpet on\r\nhis lips and begins to quiver like she is about to do a dance.\r\n\r\nI remember she says she does not like high notes, and this song has some\r\npretty well up in the stratosphere, especially for the trumpet section,\r\nwhich is Hotlips.\r\n\r\nShe is frowning like maybe she is thinking real hard about something and\r\nis surprised her thoughts do no good. Her face becomes waxy and there is\r\na frightened look on it.\r\n\r\nShe quivers some more, as the notes go up and up and up. Then she lets\r\nout a shriek, like maybe she is going to pieces.\r\n\r\nAnd then she does. Actually.\r\n\r\nRight before our popping eyeballs she goes to pieces.\r\n\r\nAs each one in the band sees what is going on, he stops playing, until\r\nfinally Hotlips is the only one. But the trumpet is in Hotlips\' hand,\r\nand the music is coming from the recording machine we place under his\r\nchair. The notes are clear and smooth, and you can almost feel the air\r\nshaking with them.\r\n\r\nBut nobody notices the music or where it comes from. They are too busy\r\nwatching the thrush, Stella Starlight.\r\n\r\nShe stands there, her face as white as clay, shaking like a carrot going\r\nthrough a mixmaster. And then tiny cracks appear on her face, on her\r\narms, even in her dress, and then a large one appears in her forehead\r\nand goes down through her body. She splits in the middle like a cracked\r\nwalnut, and there in the center, floating three feet from the floor is a\r\nsmall flying cuspidor.\r\n\r\nNobody in the room says anything. They just stand there, bug-eyed and\r\nfrightened like anything. Somewhere, across the room, a woman faints. I\r\ndo not feel too well myself, and I am afraid to look to see how Hotlips\r\ntakes this.\r\n\r\nThere is no sound, but I hear a voice in my mind and know that the\r\nothers hear it too. The voice sounds like it is filled with wire and\r\nmetal and is not exactly human. It says:\r\n\r\n"_You win, Hotlips Grogan. I, as advance agent in disguise, tell you\r\nthis. We will go away and leave you and your people alone. We place a\r\nmental block in your mind, but you outsmart us, and now you know our\r\nweakness. We cannot stand high sounds which you can play so easy on your\r\ntrumpet. We find ourselves a home someplace else._"\r\n\r\nWith that, the cuspidor shoots across the room and plows right through\r\nthe wall.\r\n\r\n"That\'s the engine room!" Frankie wails.\r\n\r\nThere is a sudden explosion from the other side of the wall, and\r\neverybody decides all at once they would like to be someplace else, and\r\nthey all pick the same spot. The space ferry is pretty crowded, but we\r\njam aboard it and drift away from the _Saturn_--musicians, waiters and\r\npaying customers all sitting in each other\'s laps.\r\n\r\nThe _Saturn_ is wobbling around, with flames shooting out at all angles,\r\nand Frankie is holding his head and moaning. In the distance, you can\r\njust about make out little specks of cuspidors heading for the wild\r\nblack yonder.\r\n\r\nSo all is well that ends well, and this is it.\r\n\r\nFrankie uses his insurance money to open a rest home on Mars for ailing\r\nmusicians.\r\n\r\nHotlips is all broken up, in a manner of speaking, over Stella\r\nStarlight\'s turning out to be not human, but he consoles himself with a\r\ngood job playing trumpet in a burlesque house where the girls wear\r\ncostumes made of glass and other brittle stuff.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs for me, Mamie gets me a job playing piano at the place where she\r\nworks, and everything is okay except for one thing. When Mamie is around\r\nI cannot seem to concentrate on my playing. I feel a funny feeling in my\r\nstomach, like maybe it is full of supersuds or something, and my mouth\r\nis dry like cotton candy.\r\n\r\nI think maybe it is indigestion.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\'s Note:\r\n\r\n This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ August 1958.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\r\n copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and\r\n typographical errors have been corrected without note.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING CUSPIDORS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Lonesome Hearts'

'Winterbotham, R. R. (Russell Robert)'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Lonesome Hearts\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Lonesome Hearts\r\n\r\nAuthor: R. R. Winterbotham\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Kelly Freas\r\n\r\nRelease date: October 4, 2009 [eBook #30170]\r\n Most recently updated: January 5, 2021\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONESOME HEARTS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n _Mjly is Yljm\'s love life. She is her sisters, her\r\n mothers, herselves and her ancestors. But poor old Yljm\r\n can never be a mother or a sister--just himself!_\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\n\r\n_lonesome hearts_\r\n\r\nBy RUSS WINTERBOTHAM\r\n\r\nIllustrated by Kelly Freas\r\n\r\n\r\nIt seems unnecessary to say that my story began a long time ago, but I\r\ndo not intend to be subtle. I am not clever and my lying is unpolished,\r\nalmost amateurish. So I certainly could not be subtle, which requires\r\nboth cleverness and an ability to tell the truth and a lie in the same\r\nbreath.\r\n\r\nLet us turn back the clock a few ages. I was lying in the sun thinking\r\nof love. I understand that you human beings have an aversion to\r\nbiological discussion, so I will not go into detail. But I must remind\r\nyou that my love life is quite different from yours, for I am from\r\nanother planet. At the time under discussion, I was most deeply in love.\r\n\r\nMy heart\'s desire had no shape, the lovely creature. She had no\r\nintelligence, the divine soul. But she was the greatest bit of\r\nprotoplasm in any galaxy you could name. By our standards, I probably\r\nmight be called handsome. I was young and healthy. I had all of my genes\r\nand chromosomes. My color was the dirty green that is associated with\r\nbeauty.\r\n\r\nThe sun warmed my body and the tidal undulation of my planet\'s surface\r\nrocked me gently. And then she came into my life. She floated gently in\r\nthe breeze, her dainty figure held aloft by a mere hint of levitation.\r\nSparks of static electricity shot from her tender cilia so brightly that\r\nI was forced to exude a layer of protective fibre to protect my visual\r\nbuds. She sucked a deep breath of cyanic gas into her pulmonary pouch\r\nand spoke to me sweetly with a voice like distant thunder.\r\n\r\n"My dear Yljm, the world is coming to an end."\r\n\r\nI could not believe her, for she had no intelligence. She only loved to\r\ntalk. "Perhaps," I said, "but not today."\r\n\r\n"Very soon, then," said she. Her name was Mjly.\r\n\r\nI watched her with patronizing amusement. The static electricity showed\r\nthat she was nervous and upset, but people often get nervous and upset\r\nover trivial matters. "Now, how," I reasoned, "could our world come to\r\nan end? The other planet has gone on for thousands of years without\r\ncolliding with us. We circle it, in fact."\r\n\r\n"No," Mjly said, "that is not our doom. Actually our world will not\r\ncease to exist. Life will end here, that is all."\r\n\r\n"Ah," I said. "Our atmosphere is escaping into space." I sucked air,\r\nviciously. True, the air was thin. True, the atmosphere was escaping.\r\nBut there would be breathable amounts for many thousands of centuries\r\nyet to come.\r\n\r\n"Not the air. The food is all gone. Things we eat have ceased to exist."\r\n\r\nI levitated myself and looked out over the throbbing land. A few years\r\nago, this land had been covered with vegetation. I had come to take\r\nvegetation so much for granted that I\'d ceased to notice it. Now it was\r\ngone. There were no round fruits growing from tender grasses, no tubers\r\ndangling from the fungus trees, no legume vines sprawling over the\r\nrocks. Everywhere lay desert, barren dunes shaking their crests with\r\ntidal motion.\r\n\r\nI lowered myself to the ground and dug my big fibrosities into the sod.\r\nNo green leaves grew there beneath the surface. The soil was dead. "This\r\nwill seriously interfere with our future, Mjly," I said.\r\n\r\n"We might eat each other," she replied, "but then there would be no one\r\nleft."\r\n\r\n"No one? There are many others here."\r\n\r\n"The others are dying," said Mjly, blinking her otic nerves eerily. "We\r\nsoon will be the only ones left."\r\n\r\nIt was indeed a senseless thing to do, to die just because there was no\r\nmeans of going on living. But I must admit that I was tempted for a\r\nmoment. But I hung onto myself, for there was Mjly, and as long as she\r\nlived, there was a reason for me to live too.\r\n\r\n"It\'s not a cheerful prospect," I said, "but I suppose death by\r\nstarvation is the best way out. We will face death as we have lived,\r\ncheerfully and fortuitously."\r\n\r\n"And why should we die, when there is another world so close?" she\r\nasked.\r\n\r\n"Are you suggesting interplanetary flight, my dear?" I was amused again,\r\neven though there was little enough left to be amused at.\r\n\r\nShe crinkled her sense of smell in reply, and I realized I was not being\r\namused at the right time. Anchoring herself by magnetic processes, she\r\nbegan to weave the atmosphere delicately with her taste-bud tendrils.\r\nQuickly she hollowed the air molecules into a reflective mirror, and\r\nbrought it to focus on our neighboring world. I levitated myself into a\r\nposition so that I could look into the mirror.\r\n\r\nThe near planet was quite satisfactory. It was the one you know as the\r\nearth. It was young. It was green. Huge fern-like plants grew abundantly\r\non its surface. It was full of food. And near.\r\n\r\n"The trip could be made by levitation," Mjly said.\r\n\r\nI hung back. "Animals might live there. We\'d be devoured."\r\n\r\n"I am not afraid," she said.\r\n\r\n"We might not get hungry for a time. Let us linger here awhile. Later\r\nwhen we get desperate, there will be time enough for interplanetary\r\nflight." I hated the thought of stuffing myself full of air enough to\r\nlast for the long trip.\r\n\r\nMjly lowered her visual buds. "I am going to become a mother," she said.\r\n\r\n"Go then, and become a mother. I\'ll stay here till I get hungry and then\r\njoin you."\r\n\r\nMjly unflexed her sense of touch and I felt sorry for her. "If I could\r\nbe sure," I said, "that no wild animals live on the earth, I\'d go\r\nsooner."\r\n\r\nShe snapped her sense of balance in happiness. "I will go first," said\r\nshe. "If everything is pleasant and safe, I will return and let you\r\nknow."\r\n\r\nI nodded my otic nerves and off she went.\r\n\r\nAs you human beings are doubtless aware, space levitation is quite\r\ncomplicated, but not beyond accomplishment. Once you are able to reach\r\nthe speed of escape the rest is easy. But Mjly was young and strong and\r\nsoon she had disappeared from sight traveling at a tremendous velocity.\r\nI followed her as long as I could with the telescope and then I lowered\r\nmyself to the tidal crest of a nearby sand dune and lost myself in\r\nmetaphysical thoughts.\r\n\r\nAlmost half a year later I realized that Mjly had been gone longer than\r\nI expected. Either she had been eaten by wild animals on the earth, or\r\nshe had forgotten me.\r\n\r\nI was beginning to get lonesome and in a few more months I would get\r\nhungry. At the thought of enduring two such excruciating pains at a\r\nsingle time, I decided to risk my life. I would travel through space to\r\nthe earth and try to find my beloved.\r\n\r\nAs you may have guessed, the planet on which we had been living is the\r\none you now know as the Moon, and the distance to the earth is\r\ncomparatively small. The sand dunes now have hardened and the tidal sway\r\nof its surface can be felt only slightly. The moon no longer turns on\r\nits axis and it has no sweetly scented cyanide in its atmosphere. It has\r\nno atmosphere of any sort. But it stands now as it did when I left it,\r\nglorious in death. Since I departed, no living thing has trod its soil.\r\n\r\nMy scientific sense instinctively came to the rescue as I approached the\r\nearth. I felt a strong gravity wrenching at my vitals and so instead of\r\ntrying reverse levitation, I spread my processes so that the atmosphere\r\ncaught in the folds of my skin and I came floating gently down to the\r\nground without harm.\r\n\r\nThe earth was much as it had appeared through the molecule telescope. It\r\nwas covered with green vegetation, good, rich, nourishing stuff. And\r\nthere was enough to feed Mjly and me for a million years.\r\n\r\nThere were no animals of any sort. Again I went to my scientific sense\r\nfor the answer. I realized that while vegetable life was far advanced,\r\nanimal life had yet to appear. Mjly was the first of this type of life\r\never to set foot on terrestrial soil.\r\n\r\nBut where was she? On the moon, I could often locate her a thousand\r\nmiles away by a simple radio call. Although the earth was much larger\r\nthan the moon, I did not doubt that she was within a thousand miles. So\r\nI generated power and issued a call.\r\n\r\nI waited for the response. It came feebly to my antenna.\r\n\r\nUsing my sense of direction, I pushed through the vegetation in search\r\nof her. I did not levitate, because the feebleness of her call indicated\r\nshe might be hurt and on the ground. Besides, levitation is much more\r\ndifficult on the earth than on the moon.\r\n\r\nThe reply came stronger to my next call and I sensed through seven of my\r\nsenses that she was near. She was on the ground, probably injured, which\r\nexplained why she had not returned as she had promised.\r\n\r\nI came to a patch of wilderness, a great marshy plain. In the middle of\r\nthis swamp was a crater, like those caused by meteors, a deep, ugly scar\r\nin the mud. I shuddered at the thought that my darling Mjly might have\r\nlanded there. Her weaker scientific sense might not have given her the\r\ncue to use her skin as a parachute and she might have made the fatal\r\nmistake of trying to reverse-levitate.\r\n\r\n"Mjly!" I called, speaking aloud now. "Mjly! Where are you?"\r\n\r\n"Yljm! I am here!"\r\n\r\nYes, the voice came from the crater. Gliding to its rim, I looked down.\r\nA pool of water lay on the bottom. A greenish scum covered the surface.\r\nThe scum moved with a million tiny wriggles.\r\n\r\n"Yes, Yljm," came Mjly\'s voice. "It is I. But I am no longer one being."\r\nAnd her voice sounded like a million tiny chirps joined together. "I\r\nlanded with such force that I came apart. Now each of my body cells\r\nlives a life of its own. And now and then each cell grows fat and\r\nbecomes two. I am my sisters, I ..."\r\n\r\nLet\'s not be subtle about it. Mjly was a microbe, the beginning of\r\nanimal life on the earth. She lives today, she is and always will be her\r\nsisters, her mothers, herselves and her ancestors. But there are few\r\nancestors, for microbes do not die--just part of themselves die.\r\n\r\nAnd I do not die. For I crept away into a hole in the ground, where I\r\nwill live forever. I do not starve, for roots reach me here. But I miss\r\nmy love life with Mjly. I can never be a mother or a sister. I will\r\nalways be me, a lonesome old bem.\r\n\r\n\r\n \xc2\xb7\xc2\xb7\xc2\xb7 THE END\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\'s Note:\r\n\r\n This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ July\r\n 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\r\n copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and\r\n typographical errors have been corrected without note. Two\r\n occurrences of the word \'visory\' have been amended to _visual_.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\'s Lonesome Hearts, by Russell Robert Winterbotham\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONESOME HEARTS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'The Almost-Men'

'Cox, Irving E.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Almost-Men\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Almost-Men\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Irving E. Cox\r\n\r\nRelease date: April 25, 2019 [eBook #59356]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALMOST-MEN ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE ALMOST-MEN\r\n\r\n BY IRVING E. COX, JR.\r\n\r\n _All learning must begin with a need. And\r\n when the tried old ideas won\'t work for a\r\n people--won\'t conquer defeat and despair--a\r\n new way of thinking must be found...._\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1955.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nHands shook at his shoulder, dragging him awake. Lanny\'s foster father\r\nwas bent over him, whispering urgently, "Get up, boy. We have to leave."\r\n\r\nGroggily Lanny pushed himself into a sitting position. He had been\r\nsleeping in his earth burrow beside Gill, outside Juan\'s cottage.\r\nHazily Lanny remembered being carried home from the canyon after the\r\nexplosion, but he could recall nothing else.\r\n\r\nIt was an hour before dawn. Gill was dressing; his shoulder was wrapped\r\nin a homespun bandage. Lanny got up, staggering a little, and helped\r\nhis brother put on his leather jacket and his weapon belt.\r\n\r\n"Thanks, Lan," his brother said.\r\n\r\nLanny touched the bandage. "Shouldn\'t you heal the cells, Gill?"\r\n\r\n"I have to expose it to the sun first. I didn\'t catch it soon enough\r\nlast night, and too many germs infested the wound." To their foster\r\nfather, Gill added, "I still think you should leave me here. I may\r\nnot--"\r\n\r\n"You\'re both my responsibility," Juan Pendillo answered. "We\'ll survive\r\ntogether, Gill, or die together."\r\n\r\n"What happened?" Lanny asked as he pulled on his breeches and pushed\r\nhis stone knife and his wooden club through the loops of his weapon\r\nbelt.\r\n\r\nSilently Juan pointed toward the dawn sky. High above them Lanny heard\r\nthe whine of a score of enemy police spheres. "They insist on the\r\nsurrender of all eight hunters who went out last night."\r\n\r\nGill said, "But Tak Laleen killed Barlow with her energy gun. Why are\r\nthey blaming us?"\r\n\r\n"Barlow was working for them as a spy," Lanny put in. It was a\r\nconvenient explanation, but vaguely he knew he was lying. He felt a\r\npang of guilt, but he couldn\'t understand why. What had he done that he\r\nshould be ashamed of?\r\n\r\nWhat had happened last night? Lanny wracked his brain, trying to\r\nremember.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEight hunters had been sent out to bring in a cache of rifles which\r\nLanny\'s brother, Gill, had found in the rubble of Santa Barbara. It\r\nwas risky business, because under the terms of the surrender treaty\r\nmen were prohibited the use of all metals in the prison compounds.\r\nBut the younger generation--boys like Lanny and Gill, born since the\r\ninvasion--were more fiercely determined to resist the Almost-men than\r\ntheir elders. Armed with fifty rifles, they thought they would be\r\nstrong enough to attack the Chapel of the Triangle.\r\n\r\nThe Almost-men: the children had coined the word, subtly asserting\r\nthe pride of man. Yet they knew it was a semantic trick they played\r\nupon themselves. It changed nothing. The conquerors were physically\r\nidentical to men; their enormous superiority was entirely technological.\r\n\r\nAs the eight hunters crept toward the ruins of Santa Barbara, through a\r\nnarrow canyon, old man Barlow suddenly emerged from the brush and stood\r\ngrinning at them. It was his privilege to join the hunters; any citizen\r\nof the settlement could have done so. But the younger generation hated\r\nBarlow. He was the practical man; he called himself a realist. He never\r\nallowed them to forget they were defeated, imprisoned and without\r\nweapons; he took savage delight in poking holes in their plans for\r\nresistance.\r\n\r\n"What are you doing here?" Lanny\'s brother demanded.\r\n\r\n"I came to watch the fun, Gill."\r\n\r\n"We\'re going to bring back fifty rifles; that\'s all--"\r\n\r\n"Right under the noses of our masters? Don\'t be naive."\r\n\r\n"There\'s only one way the Almost-men would find out--"\r\n\r\nBarlow snorted. "Don\'t think I ran to the Chapel of the Triangle and\r\ntold Tak Laleen what you were up to. They don\'t need that sort of help\r\nfrom us. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of\r\nyours? We\'re outclassed; we\'re second-raters; we\'ll never defeat them."\r\n\r\nFrom the night sky they heard the low hum of a force-field car. An\r\nopalescent sphere soared above the canyon. Gill\'s fist smashed into\r\nBarlow\'s jaw.\r\n\r\n"So you did tell her!"\r\n\r\nBarlow fell back against the canyon wall, his mouth bleeding.\r\n\r\nThe sphere came to a graceful stop thirty feet above the hunters and\r\nthe de-grav platform lowered a woman toward the canyon. Surrounded by\r\nthe faintly opaque capsule of her protective force-field, she moved\r\ntoward them, a beautiful, dark-haired woman clothed in white.\r\n\r\nThis was Tak Laleen, the alien missionary assigned to the Santa Barbara\r\narea. She lived in the Chapel of the Triangle. Under the terms of the\r\nsurrender treaty, the missionaries of the Almost-men were guaranteed\r\nimmunity to preach and work in the treaty areas. They were selfless,\r\ngenerous and kind, yet men abhorred them, for they represented the\r\ntangible power of the conqueror.\r\n\r\nTak Laleen glided toward the hunters, forming the alien\'s triangular\r\nsign of peace with her small, white fingers. "I come in peace, in the\r\nname of the All of the Universe."\r\n\r\n"We haven\'t violated any regulation," Gill snapped stiffly.\r\n\r\nBarlow sidled toward her. "Take me back to the Triangle," he begged.\r\n"I\'ll tell you--"\r\n\r\nGill\'s fist lashed out again; Barlow reeled under the blow. "We\'re a\r\nlegally elected punishment squad," Gill lied. "This man has broken a\r\ncommunity law."\r\n\r\n"You don\'t understand!" Barlow cried desperately. "They came to get--"\r\n\r\nThe other hunters fell on him, pummeling him into silence. The violence\r\nsickened Lanny, yet what alternative did they have? Lanny raised his\r\nclub. At the same time the missionary came closer to the mob, and his\r\nclub touched her forced-field capsule. Normally the energy would have\r\nparalyzed him with pain. But his mind refused to accept the normal, and\r\nLanny felt the same sort of integrated unity with the energy field that\r\nhe had with his hunting club. Command over the matter structure of the\r\nfield. The energy flowed into his body and was absorbed, stored in an\r\nexplosive concentration of power.\r\n\r\nFor a moment the opaque capsule dimmed. Tak Laleen clenched her hand\r\nover her mouth and fled into her sphere. The car soared up above the\r\ncanyon.\r\n\r\nLanny swung his club again. Since Barlow must die, let him die quickly,\r\nwithout pain. Murder!--the accusation was a pang of agony in Lanny\'s\r\nmind. This violated everything Juan had taught him. He was aware that\r\nhe wanted Barlow\'s death not because the old man had tried to betray\r\nthe hunters, but because Lanny could not answer Barlow\'s poisonous\r\ndespair in any other way. Lanny was ashamed. But who would know his\r\nreal motive if he killed Barlow now? Who--but himself?\r\n\r\nLanny\'s club touched Barlow\'s chest. He felt a drain of energy, a\r\ndisintegration of structure. The energy Lanny had absorbed from the\r\nmissionary\'s force-field exploded in a fierce, white heat. Barlow\r\ncrumbled into dust.\r\n\r\nLanny\'s awareness of what he had done survived for a fraction of a\r\nsecond. He stood facing the exploding light and waves of concussion\r\nlashed at his body. A dark chaos, whipped into fury by a floodtide of\r\nguilt, rocked his mind. He willed himself into unconsciousness, a bleak\r\nforgetfulness that sponged the guilt--and the truth--from his mind.\r\n\r\nAnd now he remembered nothing but the explosion and the queasy shadow\r\nof self-accusation.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"The settlement," Juan Pendillo said to his sons, "is required to\r\nsurrender the hunters at dawn. That gives us forty-five minutes.\r\nWe\'re all heading for different treaty areas. We are to go to the San\r\nFrancisco colony."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe three men slid along the street, clinging to the shadows. Twice\r\nthey passed other hunters in flight, but no one spoke, for the enemy\r\nsound detectors on the Chapel of the Triangle were sensitive enough\r\nto pick up a whisper at a distance of half a mile. Lanny and Gill\r\ndiscarded their moccasins, in order to be more sure of their footing.\r\nThe moccasins were useless except as symbols of status. Juan Pendillo\r\nqualified to give the extra skins to his sons, since before the\r\ninvasion he had been a Doctor of Philosophy, and the teachers had\r\nbecome the governing force in every treaty area.\r\n\r\nFor two hours Pendillo and his foster sons walked north. Occasionally\r\nthey saw enemy spheres overhead, but the ships never came closer. After\r\nthey reached the coast, the pounding surf formed a protective sound\r\nbarrier when they talked.\r\n\r\n"How far is the San Francisco treaty area?" Gill asked.\r\n\r\n"Three hundred miles, more or less," Pendillo replied.\r\n\r\n"How many days?" Lanny inquired. His father, like all the older\r\nsurvivors in the settlement, always spoke of distance in terms of\r\nmiles--a word that was meaningless to the new generation.\r\n\r\nPendillo laughed, with gentle bitterness. "Once, Lanny, we might\r\nhave made it by car in eight hours. Now?--I don\'t know. The couriers\r\nsometimes do it in a week, when the weather is good. It will take us\r\nlonger. I won\'t be able--" He cut himself short. "It\'s funny, isn\'t it?\r\nIn the old days I used to gripe about the traffic; right now I\'d give\r\nten years of my life to see a Model-T again."\r\n\r\nGill ground his naked heel into the sand. "The Almost-men took\r\neverything from us. But we\'re not licked. One of these days we\'ll be\r\nstrong enough--"\r\n\r\n"As strong as their machines?" Lanny asked.\r\n\r\nGill swung toward his brother angrily. "That\'s Barlow\'s kind of talk,\r\nLan."\r\n\r\n"The weapons and the machines of the Almost-men," Pendillo said, "are\r\nmore powerful than anything we ever had. Yet we must defeat them; we\r\nmust make ourselves free again. And we shall; I have no doubt of it.\r\nGranted, we have no weapons like theirs, and no chance of building any.\r\nWe still don\'t resign ourselves to defeat. The techniques we used in\r\nthe past failed; then we must find new ones. How? I don\'t know. That\'s\r\nthe problem our generation leaves to yours. Men live by their dreams;\r\nwithout them we are nothing."\r\n\r\nThe three men continued to move north along the beach until they came\r\nto the barrier that marked the northern boundary of the Santa Barbara\r\ntreaty area. The barrier was a series of widely separated pylons\r\nmarching across the land. Each pylon served as a pedestal for one of\r\nthe enemy\'s highly sensitive sound receptors and an automatic energy\r\ngun. Any sound detected within seventy feet of the border became\r\ninstantly the focal point for a stabbing beam of disintegration. Yet\r\nmen crossed the barriers at will. Couriers traveled freely from one\r\ntreaty area to another, and hunters crossed the border because the\r\nanimal life in enemy territory was more prolific.\r\n\r\nThey had two methods for passing the pylon guns. Sometimes they swam to\r\nsea, circling the barrier beyond the range of the sea-coast receptors.\r\nThe second technique, used by the inland hunters, was to confuse the\r\nlistening machines. The hunters would hurl half a dozen stones into the\r\nbarrier area. While the energy guns obediently disposed of the rolling\r\nrocks, the hunters sprinted across the forbidden ground before the guns\r\ncould concentrate upon the second target.\r\n\r\nBoth Lanny and Gill preferred to run the guns. They enjoyed the risk of\r\ndefying the enemy machines. But Dr. Pendillo shook his head. It meant\r\nsprinting a distance of a hundred yards in less than nine seconds--the\r\ntime it took the guns to reorient their target.\r\n\r\n"Before the invasion," Pendillo explained, "the fastest man on Earth\r\nran a hundred meters in a little over ten seconds. You boys are a new\r\nbreed. You\'ve been forced to adapt; I\'m too old." Pendillo\'s eyes were\r\nsuddenly serious. "Adaptation," he repeated. "The possibilities are\r\ninfinite for a man who is free from convention, free from the inherited\r\nideas of his past. That is the way we shall defeat the Almost-men. The\r\nhuman mind has an unmeasured capacity for solving problems--for pulling\r\nitself up by its bootstraps--so long as hope for a solution remains\r\nalive."\r\n\r\nThey passed the barrier by swimming a quarter of a mile to sea. They\r\nrested briefly when they returned to the beach. Then they resumed their\r\nmarch north again, through territory ceded to the enemy. They stayed\r\nclose to the beach, until their passage was barred by an increasingly\r\nrocky coastline. Since they had seen no enemy police spheres since they\r\nleft the treaty area, Pendillo thought it was safe for them to use the\r\nhighway which paralleled the beach.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter nearly twenty years, the ribbon of asphalt was still in good\r\nrepair. Occasional cracks had broken the paving. Grass and weeds choked\r\nthe crevices and some culverts had been washed out by spring rains.\r\n\r\nThe primary change was environmental, but only Juan Pendillo was\r\naware of that, for his sons took for granted the young forests that\r\ncrowded every hillside and the abundant wild game. With no more than\r\na ten minute interruption in their march northward, Lanny and Gill\r\nran down a rabbit and a pheasant, killing them with skillfully hurled\r\nstones--the traditional weapons of the hunters. They cleaned the kill\r\nand strapped it to their weapon belts.\r\n\r\nLate in the afternoon they entered Santa Maria. The town had not been\r\nlarge, but it was the first relic of their defeated culture that Lanny\r\nand Gill had ever seen. Sometimes, when their hunting took them south,\r\nthey saw the site of Los Angeles, but that told them nothing about the\r\npast, for it was a flat desert scrubbed clean of rubble to make room\r\nfor an enemy skyport. Santa Maria had survived the invasion, since it\r\nwas too isolated from the major centers of population to have been a\r\ntarget of the enemy guns.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill stood in the empty main street and looked with awe at\r\nthe deserted stores. Some of the buildings were made of brick; some\r\nwere actually two and three floors high. This must, surely, have been\r\na great city of the old world. They had no point of reference but the\r\nmonotonously identical houses of the subdivision which had become their\r\ntreaty colony. Here the buildings were all different and by that fact\r\nalone they seemed beautiful.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill stopped at each store window, to stare in wonder at\r\nthe goods still on the shelves. In an automobile agency, a solitary\r\nsedan still stood, on deflated and frayed tires, in the center of the\r\nshowroom floor. Here at last was visible proof that men had once built\r\na machine technology. The automobile was as big and as shiny, beneath\r\nits generation of dust, as any of the spheres of the Almost-men.\r\n\r\n"Were they all like that?" Lanny asked in an awed whisper.\r\n\r\n"Fundamentally, yes," Pendillo said.\r\n\r\n"And they moved over the roads faster than a deer!" Gill\'s eyes\r\nglistened. "But where are the weapons, father?"\r\n\r\n"Our cars weren\'t armed, Gill; we used them for pleasure. But don\'t get\r\nme wrong. We had guns--vicious and terrible things; we were no more\r\ncivilized than the Almost-men. Our weapons just weren\'t the equal of\r\ntheirs, so our civilization was destroyed."\r\n\r\n"You\'re saying the Almost-men are better--"\r\n\r\n"No, Gill. The Almost-men are mirror images of ourselves--man at his\r\nworst. That\'s why we understand each other so thoroughly," Pendillo\r\npaused before he added, "And that\'s why we can\'t destroy them on their\r\nterms; we must make our own."\r\n\r\nThey pushed open the door of the agency and went into the showroom.\r\nHesitantly, like children with new Christmas toys, they ran their\r\nfingers over the dusty hood of the sedan. Lanny felt a strange,\r\nelectric empathy as he touched the cold metal, as if it were a familiar\r\npart of himself. For a moment he saw in his mind the geometric\r\nstructure of the alloy atoms, just as he could visualize the more\r\ncomplex cell make-up of his own body. Judging from the expression\r\non Gill\'s face, he guessed that his brother had perceived the same\r\nrelationship.\r\n\r\n"And the Almost-men took all this from us," Gill said in a choked\r\nvoice. "Why, Juan?"\r\n\r\n"In our wars among ourselves, we always had the same motivation.\r\nThey came here for resources. Every skyport they have built on Earth\r\ncontinuously ships out tons of metal and chemicals--oil, coal, ores.\r\nOn their home world the Almost-men have exhausted their own resources;\r\nthey must have ours to keep their mechanistic civilization going."\r\n\r\nJuan opened a door at the rear of the showroom into a large,\r\ncement-floored garage. Except for three automobiles, abandoned twenty\r\nyears before in various stages of repair, the room was empty. "We can\r\nspend the night here," Pendillo decided.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill pried open the door at the back of the garage. Behind\r\nthe building tangled shrubs and live oaks choked the half-mile shelf\r\nof land that separated Santa Maria from the coast. They found a ready\r\nsupply of dry firewood under the trees.\r\n\r\nIt was dusk. The setting sun was veiled in a mist. Fingers of fog\r\nreached hungrily for the warm earth, driven inland by the wind. Lanny\r\nand Gill would have been more comfortable outside. They were accustomed\r\nto the chilly night air. They could have burrowed sleeping troughs in\r\nthe soil and restored their strength with earth energy.\r\n\r\nIt had always puzzled them that the older survivors, like Juan, could\r\nnot do the same. Pendillo\'s generation made very poor hunters, too,\r\noften dying of a wheezing sickness if they spent many nights on the\r\ntrail.\r\n\r\nPendillo\'s sons carried wood into the garage, where Juan sat shivering\r\non a wooden bench with his rabbit-skin jacket hunched around his\r\nshoulders. Lanny and Gill stripped off their jerkins and gave them to\r\ntheir father.\r\n\r\nPendillo\'s sons were naked, then, except for their short, crudely cut\r\nbreeches and their leather weapon belts. And only the belts, which\r\nheld their stone knives and their clubs, would either of them have\r\nconsidered essential. The rest was superficial, a mark of status. In\r\na general way Lanny and Gill were physically alike--sturdy, bronzed\r\ngiants, like all the children who had survived in the treaty areas.\r\nThey were both nineteen, or perhaps a little older. Dr. Pendillo had\r\nfound them abandoned as he fled the final enemy attack. Gill\'s hair\r\nwas yellow and a pale beard was beginning to grow on his chin. Lanny\'s\r\nblack hair curled in a tight, matted mane; his beard was heavy,\r\nalready covering much of his face and giving him a sinister, derelict\r\nappearance. Since metal was forbidden in the prison compounds, no man\r\nwas clean-shaven. After a fashion they did occasionally trim their\r\nhair, with treasured slivers of glass which foraging hunters brought\r\nback from the ruined cities.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill made fire in a rusted waste can. Pendillo watched them\r\nwith admiration. That was another shortcoming in the older survivors\r\nthat puzzled Lanny: they were very clumsy about producing fire, and\r\nalmost none of them could hurl a stone accurately enough to kill an\r\nanimal. Yet both skills, so essential to the hunters, had been taught\r\nthe children by their elders.\r\n\r\nOn an improvised wooden spit Pendillo\'s sons roasted the pheasant and\r\nthe rabbit which they had killed that afternoon. The three men ate\r\nhungrily, Pendillo with a fastidiousness that secretly amused the\r\nbronzed giants who sat cross-legged beside him. Dr. Pendillo tore the\r\nmeat daintily from the bones with his fingers; at intervals he wiped\r\nthe grease from his lip with a corner of his jacket.\r\n\r\nPendillo built a bed for himself from a pile of dry, rotting rags close\r\nto the fire. Lanny restoked the can with fresh wood so his father might\r\nbe warm during the night. Then Pendillo\'s sons spread their skins close\r\nto the open door, where they felt more at ease.\r\n\r\nAlmost at once Lanny was asleep. It was an instinctive process of will.\r\nHe ordered his body to rest, and it responded; just as he could be\r\ninstantly awake and alert at any energy change that indicated danger.\r\nHe had never examined the process consciously, and he considered it\r\nin no way unusual; but he might have recalled, if he had pressed his\r\nmemory back into his earliest childhood, that it was part of a pattern\r\nPendillo had taught his sons.\r\n\r\nThere was a sputter of sound. Lanny leaped to his feet, his hand\r\nclosing on his stone knife. He heard a roar of clanging metal in the\r\nautomobile showroom. Then silence.\r\n\r\nLanny sprang through the open door. Dimly he saw Gill sitting in the\r\nsedan, his hands gripping the wheel.\r\n\r\n"What happened?"\r\n\r\n"It started, Lanny. I just came in to look at it, to touch it again,\r\nand--"\r\n\r\n"So you made the motor turn over?" This came from Dr. Pendillo, who was\r\nfeeling his way through the door behind Lanny. "How, Gill?"\r\n\r\nGill slid out of the car, backing away from it. "I don\'t know. I don\'t\r\nknow!"\r\n\r\n"You must, Gill."\r\n\r\n"I got in. I was--I was pretending it was before the invasion and I was\r\ndriving the machine down the road. I could see the matter structure\r\nof the motor in my mind, and how the parts fit together. I must have\r\ntouched the starter."\r\n\r\n"After twenty years, the battery would be dead and the fuel would have\r\nevaporated. Tell me what you really did, Gill."\r\n\r\nGill clenched his fist against his mouth. "It seemed as if it were\r\na part of me, like my hand. And then the machinery began to move,\r\nbecause--because I wanted it to. Maybe there was some fuel left,\r\nfather, and maybe--"\r\n\r\n"Why are you afraid of the truth, Gill?"\r\n\r\n"People don\'t run machines by wanting them to go!"\r\n\r\n"The thinking mind, my son, is capable of--" Pendillo\'s voice trailed\r\noff, for they all heard the sound outside--the high whine made by the\r\nforce-field of an enemy sphere.\r\n\r\nLanny darted to the showroom window. At the end of the street an\r\nopalescent sphere was riding in the fog, three feet above the ground.\r\nEnemy police guards in protective capsules spilled through the open\r\nport, carrying energy guns slung over their shoulders.\r\n\r\n"The Almost-men picked up the sound of the motor," Pendillo gasped.\r\n\r\nThen he saw the woman in the white uniform of the Triangle. She stood\r\nat the port, spotlighted by the glow of blue light that came from\r\nwithin the ship.\r\n\r\nIt was the missionary, Tak Laleen.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn the street the tracer light began to dart back and forth over the\r\nempty buildings, responding to the commands of the sound receptors.\r\nLanny and Gill seized their father and plunged into the choking\r\ndarkness of the forest. Dead brush snapped. The tracer light swung\r\ntoward the trees, concentrating with smug, mechanical self-assurance\r\nupon the place where the three men had been. Lying flat against the\r\ncold earth, they wormed their way foot by foot toward the coast.\r\n\r\nBehind them they saw the force-field capsules of six enemy guards\r\nfloating above the trees. Strong tracer lights danced over the upper\r\nbranches, but the foliage was too dense for the light to penetrate to\r\nthe ground. In their glowing bubbles the enemy police swung back and\r\nforth, trying to find a clearing in the brush. Two of them attempted to\r\nforce their way into the trees but their body capsules were too bulky;\r\nthe force-field generated by the individual envelopes was not powerful\r\nenough to push through the gnarled branches.\r\n\r\nThe three fugitives inched steadily forward. The glow of tracer lights\r\nfaded behind them. They could hear the wind above the trees and, far\r\naway, the sound of surf breaking on the rocks.\r\n\r\nJuan Pendillo was shivering in the cold. His teeth began to chatter.\r\nHastily his sons pressed his body between theirs, shielding him from\r\nthe cold and sharing their body energy until his trembling finally\r\nstopped.\r\n\r\nThey heard a snapping sound in the brush. An enemy guard appeared\r\nsuddenly. He had dissolved his force-field and he was walking warily\r\non the wet earth. He held an energy gun cradled in his arms. The enemy\r\nwalked with cat-like caution--but, in spite of himself, it was the\r\namateur caution of a man who relied on the protective devices of a\r\nmachine.\r\n\r\nSlowly Lanny\'s lips twisted in a sneer. This was the enemy, heavily\r\narmed and invulnerable--but helpless without his mechanical gadgets.\r\nLanny\'s hand moved soundlessly over the ground. He grasped a stone. The\r\nenemy was less than twenty feet away; it was a target a child couldn\'t\r\nmiss.\r\n\r\nLanny swung into a sitting position and simultaneously threw his stone.\r\nThe guard dropped, a wound torn in his skull. Pendillo and his sons\r\nslid forward again. As they passed the dead Almost-man, Lanny worked\r\nthe energy gun out of of the guard\'s hands.\r\n\r\nIt took them an hour to reach the cliffs overlooking the sea. They\r\nturned north again, seeking shelter among the rocks. And they came\r\nabruptly upon a wide, bowl-shaped cavity in the earth. Through the fog\r\nthey saw the narrow passage between the cavity and the sea. In the\r\ncenter of the sheltered, artificial pool a metal dome rose some fifty\r\nfeet above the quiet water. The dome, protected by a force-field, was\r\njoined to the land by a catwalk. From its waterline a ridged, white\r\ntube snaked upward and disappeared among the trees on the north bank of\r\nthe pool. A repair barge swung at anchor under the catwalk. A towering\r\npylon raised a sound receptor and an automatic energy gun high above\r\nthe roof of the dome.\r\n\r\nPendillo whispered, "This must be one of their automatic mining\r\noperations. I\'ve never seen one before."\r\n\r\nGill replied, "Lanny and I have come upon lots of them in the hills.\r\nThe domes run themselves. Sometimes the Almost-men come and check over\r\nthe machines; that\'s what the barge is here for, I think."\r\n\r\n"The domes dig out minerals or pump oil," Lanny added, "and send it to\r\nthe skyports through the white pipes. But you can never get close to\r\nthem. The whole operation is protected by the energy guns."\r\n\r\n"They have us pinned down here," Gill said, "unless we can use that\r\nbarge."\r\n\r\nLanny fingered the energy gun he had taken from the dead guard. "All\r\nwe have to do is knock out the pylon." He raised the weapon and aimed\r\nit at the nest of delicate instruments at the base of the pillar. He\r\nturned the firing dial. The flame knifed through the fog. The tower\r\ndisintegrated in a blaze of dust.\r\n\r\nThe three men slid down the rock and plunged through the cold water\r\ntoward the barge. In the night sky they heard the whine of an\r\napproaching force-field car.\r\n\r\nThey leaped aboard the barge, hauling Dr. Pendillo in after them. Gill\r\nknelt in front of the motor in the stern. Lanny watched the sky, with\r\nthe energy gun clutched in his hand. He knew the charge in the chamber\r\nwas nearly spent. There might be enough left to hold off the enemy for\r\na moment, but certainly no longer.\r\n\r\nFrantically Gill turned the wheels until the motor stirred into life.\r\nAs it did the glowing sphere swung down upon them. Lanny raised his\r\ngun and fired. Fear projected something of himself into the leaping\r\ncharge of energy--a confusing sensation of screaming joy and chaotic\r\nhorror that left his mind limp and numb. It seemed that he had actually\r\ntouched the force-field of the sphere; he was physically tearing apart\r\nthe tense, strait-jacket of solidified energy.\r\n\r\nThe sphere lurched upward and away into the night. As it did, the port\r\nbroke open and a figure dropped toward the water. It was Tak Laleen.\r\nShe reached for the tiny box fastened to her breast, trying to activate\r\nher protective force-field capsule. Lanny knew he had to stop her, or\r\nshe might still be able to prevent their escape.\r\n\r\nHe sprang into the water, clawing for her feet as she fell toward\r\nhim. She screamed and her screams died as he dragged her beneath the\r\nsurface. He tore the box from her hands and let it fall.\r\n\r\nWhen they broke the surface, his hands were on her throat and all his\r\nlifelong hatred of the Almost-men was in his finger tips as he pressed\r\nhis thumbs down upon her windpipe. Pendillo cried out,\r\n\r\n"Don\'t kill her, Lanny! No man has ever taken one of the enemy alive."\r\n\r\nReluctantly Lanny relaxed his grip. Tak Laleen screamed again and\r\nslapped her hands at his face. Abruptly she paused and stared into his\r\neyes.\r\n\r\n"You!" she gasped. "The black savage. No wonder my sphere--In the name\r\nof the All of the Universe, kill me quickly! Kill me now, as civilized\r\nbeings have a right to die--not your way. Not your way!"\r\n\r\nThen, for no reason Lanny could fathom, Tak Laleen fainted.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSheltered by the mist and the darkness, the stolen barge moved rapidly\r\nnorth along the coast. Tak Laleen lay unconscious in the bottom of the\r\nboat, wrapped in her white uniform; Pendillo sat shivering beside her.\r\nLanny and Gill stood in the stern. Although the motor was controlled by\r\nan automatic navigator, Gill tore out the flimsy destination tape and\r\nguided the wheel manually.\r\n\r\n"Even this the Almost-men can\'t do for themselves," he remarked to his\r\nbrother.\r\n\r\n"Do you suppose they really can\'t read direction from the sun or the\r\nstars?"\r\n\r\n"All their brains are in their machines."\r\n\r\n"And machines are nothing."\r\n\r\n"Juan has always said that," Gill said slowly. "It sounds logical and\r\nreasonable. But I don\'t know what it means, Lanny!"\r\n\r\nFor a long time they stood watching the heaving shadow of the sea, each\r\nof them trying in his own way to make sense of the riddle. Suddenly the\r\nmotor sputtered. Gill tinkered with the machine until it was purring\r\nsmoothly again.\r\n\r\n"The power cells are nearly empty," he said. "We\'ll have to run the\r\nbarge aground sometime tomorrow and start walking again."\r\n\r\n"Yes, I know." Lanny clenched his fist over his brother\'s arm. "But how\r\ndo we know it, Gill? How can we run this machine, when we have never\r\nseen it before?"\r\n\r\nGill laughed uneasily. "Don\'t forget, before the invasion our people\r\nwere pretty good at building machines, too."\r\n\r\n"That doesn\'t answer the question, Gill. When I fired the energy gun, I\r\nfelt as if it were a part of myself--as if I knew all the cells in the\r\nmetal just as I know my own."\r\n\r\n"That happened to me when I sat in the automobile in the showroom."\r\n\r\n"It scares me, Gill. I keep thinking I should remember something but--"\r\n\r\n"I was scared last night, too, because I thought I\'d made the motor go\r\nby forcing it to move with my mind. And that\'s absurd. If we had that\r\nmuch control over machines, as we do over our hunting clubs, how could\r\nthe enemy ever have defeated us?"\r\n\r\nTak Laleen opened her eyes, then, and sat up stiffly. The wind struck\r\nher face and swept her hair back. Shivering, she pulled her uniform\r\ntight around her throat.\r\n\r\n"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.\r\n\r\n"You\'re our prisoner," Lanny answered.\r\n\r\n"The Sacred Triangle will not pay ransom. We volunteered to serve here\r\non the earth; we knew the risks."\r\n\r\nLanny moved toward her. Fearfully she slid away from him until her back\r\nwas against the gunwale. "Don\'t touch me!" she begged.\r\n\r\nHe shrugged and dropped on the deck close to her feet. "When you came\r\nout of the Triangle to take care of our sick, you never were repulsed\r\nby--"\r\n\r\n"Not the normal ones, no."\r\n\r\n"Your aversion applies only to me?"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t pretend." She twisted her hands together. "What kind of a--a\r\nthing are you?"\r\n\r\nJuan Pendillo intervened, "We dragged you aboard rather\r\nunceremoniously, Tak Laleen. Let me introduce my sons, Lanny and Gill."\r\n\r\n"You\'re lying. Where did you get the metals to make him?"\r\n\r\nLanny stared at his father. "Is she--has her mind been affected--"\r\n\r\n"All this beating around the bush is so foolish." Suddenly she seized\r\nLanny\'s arm and dug her nails, like claws, into his skin. "But--but it\r\nis real! You\'re not a machine." Her eyes glazed and she fainted again.\r\n\r\nBy dawn the motor of the barge was missing continuously and the speed\r\nhad been reduced to a relatively slow forty knots. The sun rose,\r\ndispelling the fog, and the wind on the sea became a little warmer.\r\nJuan Pendillo tried to pace the tiny deck, flaying his arms to restore\r\nthe circulation. Tak Laleen, having recovered from her second faint,\r\nsat brooding with her uniform clutched tightly over her throat.\r\n\r\nPeriodically the missionary talked to Pendillo. She asked again and\r\nagain what they were going to do with her. Either ransom or murder were\r\nthe only possibilities that occurred to her. That point of view was a\r\nfair index to the attitude the Almost-men held toward the survivors\r\non the planet they had conquered. Mankind they considered filthy,\r\nilliterate barbarians; the primitive squalor of the prison compounds\r\nwas their proof.\r\n\r\nLanny understood enough of the religion of the Triangle--that noble\r\nabstract of God which the enemy called the All of the Universe--to\r\nknow why the conquerors had to use a semantic device to define their\r\nsuperiority. The Almost-men were a liberty-loving society. Their\r\ngovernment decrees and their religious poetry abounded with vivid words\r\nof freedom. They could not have maintained an integrated social soul\r\nand enslaved a culture of their peers; therefore, they had to invent a\r\nverbal technique for reducing man to the status of a savage.\r\n\r\n"As we have always done ourselves," Pendillo told Lanny when he first\r\nbecame aware of the inconsistency as a child. "But don\'t condemn\r\nthe enemy for it, my son. Words have the peculiar habit of becoming\r\nanything we want them to be. If we set our minds to it, we can make\r\nanything true. The Almost-men are not merely alien invaders; they are\r\nlike man himself--the most tragic distortion of our worst traits.\r\nSomeday we shall make war on them, yes, but before we do we must learn\r\nhow to conquer ourselves."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEarly in the afternoon the power cells in the barge were exhausted.\r\nGill drove the ship up on a desolate beach, at the place where Monterey\r\nhad once stood. Nothing survived but an occasional piece of debris,\r\nburied in the drifted sand, for Monterey, close to a military camp, had\r\nbeen heavily bombed by the invaders.\r\n\r\n"We must find a place to camp," Pendillo advised. "I don\'t believe\r\neither Tak Laleen or I have the strength to go any farther today."\r\n\r\nThey found it necessary to hike eight miles north of Monterey before\r\nthey were beyond the area of total destruction. The ruins, scattered\r\namong the encroaching trees, became recognizable as skeletal relics of\r\nthings that might once have been homes. They found one frame cottage\r\nstill whole because it had been built close to a hillside. The battered\r\nwalls would provide shelter for Pendillo and the missionary. Further,\r\nthe house had a stone fireplace where they could cook their food, and\r\nclose by a shallow spring bubbled from the dark earth.\r\n\r\nGill and Lanny trapped a deer and carried the carcass back to the\r\ncottage. Both Tak Laleen and Pendillo were struggling to make a fire.\r\nLanny took over the chore and in seconds flames leaped through the dead\r\nbrush heaped on the hearth. It had always puzzled him that Pendillo\r\ncould have taught him the techniques, and still not be able to make the\r\nfire himself. Tak Laleen was just as helpless. Without their machines\r\nthe Almost-men were nothing: again and again that became apparent.\r\n\r\nGill stripped off the deer hide carefully so it could be made into\r\na second jacket for Pendillo. While he stretched the skin in the\r\nafternoon sun, Lanny turned the meat over the fire. When they began\r\nto eat, both Lanny and Gill were amused that Tak Laleen had manners\r\nas fastidious as Pendillo\'s. The missionary nibbled delicately at her\r\nfood, as if she thought the grease would soil her lips. Afterward\r\nshe and Pendillo washed in water which they heated over the fire.\r\nPendillo\'s sons stripped and swam in the ocean, as a man properly\r\nshould to make himself clean.\r\n\r\nThey made beds for their father and the missionary in front of the\r\nfire. Lanny and his brother would have been willing to continue the\r\nmarch north until nightfall; the food had restored their balance of\r\nenergy, as it always did. But they knew the other two had to rest.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill dug burrows in the warm sand outside the cottage, where\r\nthey felt more comfortable. They were consciously an integrated part\r\nof their world, nurtured by the earth and the sun. To them it seemed\r\nabsurd to build walls of wood or stone to separate themselves from\r\na part of their own being. None of the younger generation had ever\r\nunderstood the need of their elders for artificial shelter. That\r\nfeeling, too, was a product of of their education, though neither they\r\nnor their teachers grasped what it implied. The children of the prison\r\ncamps lived in a new universe, not yet defined.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill were immediately asleep. It did not occur to them that\r\nTak Laleen might try to escape. They assumed she had read the signs of\r\nthe plentiful game in the forest: they were a long way from any enemy\r\ninstallation.\r\n\r\nYet four hours later they were jerked awake by the sound of her\r\nscreams, faint and terrified in the night shadows of the forest. They\r\nfound her a thousand yards from the cottage. Her back was against a\r\nwall of boulders and with her frail, white hands she was trying to beat\r\noff a snarling cougar which had already clawed her uniform to shreds.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nLanny drew his knife and leaped at the animal. Gill threw a stone which\r\nmight have broken the skull with bullet force, but at that moment the\r\ncougar whirled toward them. Its claw slashed at Lanny. He bent low,\r\ndriving his knife upward. Momentum carried the big cat forward. As the\r\ntearing fury struck his chest, Lanny plunged his knife again into the\r\nthick hide.\r\n\r\nThe cougar fell, writhing and howling. Gill smashed a broken tree limb\r\ninto the yawning jaws, and the big cat died. Tak Laleen stumbled\r\ntoward them. She tried to speak. The words of gratitude choked in her\r\nthroat and she fainted.\r\n\r\nAgain! Lanny thought, with disgust. The Almost-men--or at least their\r\nmissionary women--had a limited gamut of emotional reactions. It seemed\r\nan inadequate way to solve a problem.\r\n\r\nThey left Tak Laleen where she lay. Gill expertly stripped off the skin\r\nof the animal they had killed, another hide they could fashion into a\r\njacket for Juan Pendillo. Lanny had been superficially wounded--a long,\r\nshallow scratch across his chest. He examined it carefully, feeling\r\nthrough the severed body cells with his mind and directing the blood\r\npurifiers to seal off the few germ colonies which were present. When\r\nthe skin seemed to require no healing exposure to the sun, he allowed\r\nthe scratch to heal at once.\r\n\r\nGill shouldered the cougar hide, still warm and dripping blood. Lanny\r\npicked up the missionary and they returned to the cottage. Tak Laleen\'s\r\nuniform was torn and useless, but the material was a tough plastic\r\nwhich had protected her from any serious wound. Her chest and arms were\r\ncriss-crossed with scores of tiny abrasions. It puzzled Lanny that\r\nshe had made no effort to repair her body. It occured to him, with\r\nsomething of a shock, that the Almost-men might use machines to do\r\nthat, too.\r\n\r\nTak Laleen regained consciousness when Lanny put her on the bed in\r\nfront of the fire. Pendillo tore off her battered uniform and bathed\r\nthe scratches with hot water.\r\n\r\n"You saved me; you risked your own life!" She said it with a peculiar\r\nfervor. Lanny couldn\'t understand why she thought an element of risk\r\nhad been involved. A hunter with half his skill and experience could\r\nhave done as much.\r\n\r\n"I won\'t try to run away again," she promised. Not much of a\r\nconcession, Lanny thought, suppressing a grin.\r\n\r\nPendillo said they would have to spend the next day in the cottage, to\r\ngive the missionary a chance to rest. She was suffering, he said, from\r\nsomething he called shock. Precisely what that was neither of his sons\r\nknew, but they supposed it was an obscure ailment that beset the enemy.\r\nThe more they learned about Tak Laleen, the stranger it seemed that\r\nsuch a weak people could have conquered the earth.\r\n\r\nDuring the interval of waiting, Lanny and Gill dried the two hides they\r\nhad taken. They cut breeches and a jacket for Tak Laleen, to replace\r\nthe uniform she could no longer wear.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter they resumed their trek north, it took them four days more to\r\nreach the pylon barrier south of the San Francisco treaty area. Tak\r\nLaleen became more and more exhausted. She shivered constantly in\r\nthe cold air. Her nose began to run--a phenomenon Pendillo called a\r\ncold--and the wounds in her chest stubbornly refused to heal. When she\r\nsaw the towered guns on the barrier, she dropped to the ground and wept\r\nhysterically.\r\n\r\n"We can\'t pass that," she whispered.\r\n\r\n"If you\'re afraid to run the guns," Lanny told her, "we can swim around\r\nthem."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know how."\r\n\r\n"There\'s no other way into the treaty area," Gill said brutally.\r\n\r\nShe sniffled. "If I could just feel warm again--if you would build a\r\nfire and give me a chance to rest--"\r\n\r\n"Not until we\'re inside the barrier. The police would spot a fire out\r\nhere."\r\n\r\nGill picked her up and began to carry her toward the beach. She\r\nscreamed in terror and beat her fists against his naked back. When he\r\ndid not stop, she cried out,\r\n\r\n"I can tell you how to break the circuit on the pylons!"\r\n\r\nGill paused. "Yes?"\r\n\r\n"If we could knock out just one of the guns, we could walk through the\r\nbarrier, couldn\'t we?"\r\n\r\nGill set her on her feet. She ran back to Lanny, stumbling over the\r\nrough ground and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Lanny, you\r\nand your brother can hit anything with a stone. Couldn\'t you knock out\r\nthe power unit in a pylon?"\r\n\r\n"Sure, if we knew where it was. We\'ve tried for years to find that out,\r\nbut we can\'t get close enough to examine the towers."\r\n\r\nShe pointed eagerly. "It\'s the criss-crossed framework, just under the\r\nsound receptor at the top."\r\n\r\nHe measured the distance critically. "It will take careful marksmanship\r\nto hit anything so small. Think we could do it, Gill?"\r\n\r\n"We\'ll have to try; the lady\'s afraid to get her feet wet."\r\n\r\nGill threw the first stone. It fell short of the target. The automatic\r\nenergy guns swung on the stone, efficiently disintegrating it before it\r\ntouched the ground. Lanny tried; and his brother threw again. It was\r\nLanny\'s fourth missile that struck the tiny mechanism. A puff of smoke\r\nfilled the air and the top of the pylon became a mass of twisted, metal\r\ngirders.\r\n\r\nLanny grinned at the missionary. She was a fool, he thought; for the\r\nsake of her own comfort, she had given away one of the most valuable\r\nsecrets in the arsenal of enemy weapons. When the treaty areas knew\r\nit, the barriers would go down; men would be free when they chose. And\r\nTak Laleen was so grateful to have escaped a cold swim in the sea, she\r\nseemed unaware of the extent of her betrayal.\r\n\r\nThey walked across the barren ground. The missionary clung with\r\nfeverish hands to Lanny\'s arm. Half a mile beyond the barrier, they\r\nascended a steep hill. From the crest they looked down upon the\r\npeninsula and the sprawling arms of the bay in the background.\r\n\r\nExcept for the jumbled ruins of downtown San Francisco, at the point\r\nof the peninsula, the land from the ocean to the bay was crowded with\r\nclosely packed rows of dwellings. Some were flat-roofed, whitewalled\r\nhouses similar to the subdivision settlement where Lanny and Gill grew\r\nup. Others, built since the surrender, were ugly hovels made from clay\r\nand grass.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe San Francisco treaty area was the largest on Earth, perhaps because\r\nit was the city where the invasion had begun. Lanny had always known\r\nit was big, but he was awed to see so many men, so many of his own\r\nkind, assembled in one place.\r\n\r\nAcross the bay, on a flat, white plain where Oakland had once stood,\r\nwas the crowded, multi-tiered skyport of the enemy. From all the\r\nsurrounding hills the pliable, white tubes poured an endless stream\r\nof resources into the port. Automatic machines, working ceaselessly\r\nday and night, loaded the plunder into machine-navigated, pilotless\r\nspheres; at five minute intervals an endless parade of spheres lifted\r\nfrom the field beyond the skyport and headed toward the stars, while a\r\nsecond parade of empties came in for a landing.\r\n\r\nFrom a distance the skyport, under its opalescent dome of a\r\nforce-field, looked like an enormous spider with its sprawling, white\r\ntentacles clutching the green earth. The San Francisco skyport was the\r\nlargest the enemy had built, and the seat of the territorial government\r\nthey had set up to rule the captive planet.\r\n\r\nGrotesque relics of man\'s bridges still spanned the bay and the Golden\r\nGate; columns of rusted steel held up the graceful loops of a single,\r\nrusted cable. An enemy bridge, like a fairy highway supported by nearly\r\ninvisible balloons of de-grav spheres, joined the skyport and the\r\ntreaty area.\r\n\r\nAs the three men and their captive descended the hillside, they were\r\nstopped by four nearly naked youths who mounted guard on the southern\r\nfringe of the settlement. Though still boys in their teens, they were\r\nphysical giants like Lanny and Gill. Pendillo told the boys why they\r\nhad fled from the Santa Barbara settlement; he asked to be taken to the\r\nhome of Dr. Endhart.\r\n\r\n"Our chief teacher?"\r\n\r\n"Dr. Endhart and I are old friends. We knew each other before the\r\ninvasion."\r\n\r\nOne of the boys clapped Lanny on the back. "So you brought your woman\r\nwith you; they must be snappy lookers down your way."\r\n\r\nTak Laleen shrank against Lanny\'s side, holding his hand in terror.\r\n\r\n"Not much for size, though," the boy added critically. "How much do you\r\nweigh, girl?"\r\n\r\nThe boy put his arm around the missionary\'s shoulder. She gave a squeal\r\nof fear and, in her eagerness to shrink still closer to Lanny, she\r\nforgot to hold her crudely cut jacket closed across her breast. The\r\nhide fell free. The boy saw her white, scratched shoulder and her thin,\r\nfrail arm.\r\n\r\nHe whistled. "So you caught one of the Almost-men. A missionary? I\r\nnever saw one without the uniform. Let\'s see the rest of it."\r\n\r\nHe snatched the jacket from Tak Laleen. She gave another wail and\r\nfainted. Lanny sighed and picked her up.\r\n\r\n"She has a habit of doing this," he explained wearily. "She hasn\'t\r\npulled one for nearly four days; I guess this was overdue."\r\n\r\nThe boy inspected her with a sneer. "Scrawny, aren\'t they?"\r\n\r\n"Take away their machines," Lanny replied, "and this is all you have\r\nleft."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nLanny and his brother made an easy adjustment to the new community.\r\nThe social stratification was an uncomplicated division of men into\r\nthree types: the teachers, the old ones who had survived the invasion,\r\nand the children who had grown up since the war--by far the largest\r\ngroup. The classification was logical and unobtrusive; it produced no\r\nfrustrating social pressures. Since the children had known no other\r\nform of society, they assumed that men had always organized their\r\nculture with such understandable simplicity.\r\n\r\nThe chief occupation of the community was always the education of the\r\nyoung. That, too, Lanny and Gill assumed to be the normal activity\r\nof man. The teachers were the real government of every treaty area.\r\nTheir control was subtle, engineered through an unofficial--and\r\nillegal--representative body, usually called the resistance council.\r\n\r\nSince Pendillo had been a teacher in his home settlement, he took up\r\nresidence with Dr. Endhart. They kept Tak Laleen with them, a prisoner\r\nconfined to the house. For nearly a week she lay on a pallet suffering\r\nthe miseries of a cold. Lanny knew that older survivors in every\r\nsettlement sometimes had the same malady. Pendillo had taught his sons\r\nthat sickness happened because some of the survivors of the invasion\r\nhad been so demoralized by defeat they had lost the mental ability to\r\ncontrol their own physical processes. But Tak Laleen was one of the\r\nconquerors; nothing had demoralized the Almost-men. There was only one\r\npossible conclusion Lanny could reach: the invaders had never learned\r\nto control the energy units in their body cells.\r\n\r\nA hunter\'s assignment, Lanny found, was easier than it had been in the\r\nsmaller Santa Barbara settlement. The Almost-men had set up a vast\r\nhunting preserve north and east of the bay; it was kept well-stocked\r\nwith game. There was no need for the hunting parties to break through\r\nthe pylon barrier and raid territory ceded to the invaders. The hunters\r\nsimply crossed the skyport bridge, circled the opalescent dome, and\r\nentered the forest, where broad trails had been conveniently laid out\r\nunder the trees.\r\n\r\nThis generous provision came about because the enemy considered the\r\nSan Francisco compound something of a showplace, an experimental\r\nlaboratory for improving relations with the conquered. A steady stream\r\nof tourists, sociologists, politicians and religious leaders poured\r\ninto the San Francisco skyport from the mechanized home world of the\r\nAlmost-men. They came to satisfy their curiosity, to purchase tourist\r\nrelics, to examine and sometimes criticize the occupation policy.\r\n\r\nFrequently, when Lanny was hunting in the forest, he saw Almost-men who\r\nwere recent arrivals in the skyport. Usually they floated above the\r\ntrees in their individual, degravitized, force-field capsules, watching\r\nthe hunt and eagerly recording the activity with their expensive\r\ncameras. Sometimes they whipped up enough courage to descend to the\r\nforest trails and talk to their captives.\r\n\r\nSeveral times Lanny was interviewed by the enemy, and slowly he began\r\nto flesh out a more realistic definition of the Almost-men. They were\r\nno longer a clear-cut symbol for something he hated, but suddenly more\r\nhuman and more understandable. They were physically weak, just like the\r\nolder survivors in the treaty settlements. They were timid and unsure\r\nof themselves. They were hopelessly caught in a mire of pretty words,\r\nwhich they seemed to believe themselves. And without their machines\r\nthey were helpless.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter Lanny and his brother had been in the San Francisco area for\r\nnearly two weeks, they were invited to a formal session of the local\r\nresistance council, where they were accepted as new citizens of the\r\ncommunity. The delegates met at night in the rubble of the old city. A\r\nnarrow passage tunneled through the ruins to an underground room which\r\nhad once been the vault of a bank and had, therefore, survived the\r\nbombing and the slashing fire of the energy guns.\r\n\r\nGill did not stay with his brother in the rear of the vault. Instead\r\nhe joined the young hotheads who formed the war party in the local\r\ncouncil. At home Gill had dominated the same element.\r\n\r\nThe men in every treaty area were split between two points of view. One\r\ngroup wanted to organize an immediate attack upon the invader, in spite\r\nof the inequality in arms. The others counciled caution, until they had\r\nthe strength to strike a real blow to free the Earth.\r\n\r\nSince men had no weapons and no metals from which to make them, the\r\nobvious basis for any successful attack had to be a scheme for seizing\r\narms from the enemy. "We can only destroy the Almost-men if we use\r\ntheir own machines." Again and again the San Francisco war party\r\nrepeated that fact; it seemed an argument so self-evident that it was\r\nbeyond any rational challenge. "The machines have no intelligence, no\r\nsense of values; they will obey us just as readily as they obey the\r\nenemy."\r\n\r\n"More so." Gill spoke clear and loud, in crisp self-confidence. "I do\r\nnot believe the enemy knows how to feel the structure of matter."\r\n\r\nThis statement created a minor sensation. The heads of the delegates\r\nturned slowly toward Gill. Gill was smiling, his mane of blond hair\r\nshimmering like gold in the flickering light. Lanny felt, as always, a\r\ntremendous admiration for his brother. Gill was so sure of himself, so\r\ncertain that he was right. Gill\'s mind would never have been plagued by\r\nshadowy fears he couldn\'t understand.\r\n\r\n"I have seen an enemy bleed," Gill went on. "They do not know how to\r\nheal a wound."\r\n\r\n"That might be true of some," one of delegates answered. "Some of\r\nour old ones have forgotten, too. But you spoke as if the individual\r\ncommunity of cells could be extended to include integration with all\r\nexternal matter."\r\n\r\n"By touch; I have done it myself."\r\n\r\n"You mean the extension into the energy units of your hunting club."\r\nThe delegate smiled depreciatingly. "We all understand that. But a\r\nwooden club was once a living thing. Community control over other forms\r\nof matter is entirely different."\r\n\r\n"No, the machines respond the same way. I made a motor turn over, when\r\nit had been idle and without fuel for twenty years. It frightened me\r\nwhen it happened. The energy in the metal was something new, and I\r\ncouldn\'t understand the structure at first. But I\'ve thought about it\r\nsince, and I\'m sure--"\r\n\r\n"We\'ll look into the possibilities--after we capture the enemy\r\nmachines. Our problems at the moment is to get the machines."\r\n\r\nThe delegates returned to their discussion. They had agreed, long ago,\r\nthat the only way to attack the skyport was from inside the protective,\r\nforce-field dome. For years the Almost-men had tried to encourage trade\r\nbetween the skyport and the treaty area, and the resistance council had\r\nturned that to their advantage.\r\n\r\nGradually they had increased the number of young men who went to the\r\ncity with necklaces of animal teeth and meaningless gee-gaws for the\r\ntourist trade. The Almost-men had grown used to seeing a mob of men\r\nmilling on the bridge and in the lower tiers of the city. The council\r\nhad regularly altered the trading parties, so that every man in the San\r\nFrancisco colony had been under the dome half a dozen times. They knew\r\ntheir way around in the skyport; they knew the location of the power\r\nstation and the city arsenal. When the attack came, fifty men in the\r\ncity would seize the power plant and the rest would attempt to take the\r\narsenal.\r\n\r\nOne of the hotheads arose from his place beside Gill. "We have\r\ndiscussed this and argued it for almost as long as I can remember," he\r\nsaid. "There is nothing more to be said, for it or against it. Hasn\'t\r\nthe time come to take a vote?"\r\n\r\nA moderate protested mildly, "But have we weighed all the risks? If we\r\nmake a mistake now--"\r\n\r\n"Can you suggest a better way to get weapons?"\r\n\r\nAnd the moderate admitted, "True, we can\'t defeat the enemy unless we\r\nhave weapons comparable to theirs."\r\n\r\nIt was the last gasp of an old argument. Everything that could be said\r\nhad already been said; every delegate knew both sides to the debate,\r\nand every delegate was driven by the same instinct to make a fight\r\nto reclaim his lost world. When the vote was counted, a majority of\r\nthe council favored war. A committee was appointed to make the final\r\ndisposition of forces and to set the time for the attack. Lanny was not\r\nsurprised when Gill was named a member of the committee.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOn the afternoon following the meeting, Lanny was assigned to a group\r\nof traders so he might learn the geography of the skyport before the\r\nattack. As the enemy capital on Earth and a tourist attraction, the\r\nSan Francisco skyport was a miniature replica of an enemy city. Under\r\nthe dome were tiers of streets and walkways, interwoven in complex\r\npatterns, and the battlement spires of luxury hotels, theatres,\r\ncabarets, public buildings. The streets overflowed with a flood of\r\njangling traffic, and the air was filled with the well-to-do riding\r\ntheir de-grav cars in the enviable security of their private capsules.\r\n\r\nLanny\'s overall impression was a place of intolerable noise and\r\nglitter. The Almost-men seemed to make a fetish of their machines. They\r\nfound it necessary to use their clattering vehicles even though their\r\ndestination might be a building only one tier away. The air under the\r\ndome was fetid with the stench of vehicle fuels.\r\n\r\nThe trading area was confined to a small, metal-surfaced square on the\r\nlowest level of the city, close to the narrow, neutralized vent through\r\nthe force-field dome. Tall buildings swarmed above the trading booths,\r\nblotting out the sun. Lanny felt boxed in, imprisoned by the high\r\nwalls, choked by the artificial, filtered air.\r\n\r\nHe sold a satisfactory quota of trade goods to the tourists who had\r\nadventured down to the booths. And he dutifully noted the location of\r\nthe walkway to the power center and the arsenal. But he gave a sigh\r\nof relief when his duty was done and he was free to go back across\r\nthe bridge to the treaty area. He filled his lungs with the crisp,\r\ndamp air, unsterilized by the fans of the enemy city. How could the\r\nAlmost-men survive, he wondered, how were they capable of clear-headed\r\nthinking, in such seething confusion?\r\n\r\nIn the treaty areas, where men could put their naked feet upon the\r\nsoil and feel the life-energy of the earth, where men breathed the\r\nfresh wind and held sovereignty over their environment--only there were\r\nmen really free. Would he trade that for the city walls that blotted\r\nout the sun, and the monotonous throbbing of machines? The victor was\r\nthe slave; the conquered had found the road to liberty. For the first\r\ntime in his life Lanny understood the paradox. Stated in those terms,\r\nwhat did men actually have to fight for?\r\n\r\nAs he always did when he had a problem, Lanny went to Juan Pendillo. It\r\nwas late in the afternoon. Already the cooking fires were being lighted\r\non the small rectangles of earth in front of the houses where the\r\nolder survivors lived. But Pendillo and Dr. Endhart were still inside,\r\npacking away the models which Endhart had used to teach his last class\r\nfor the day. They usually waited for Lanny or Gill to make their night\r\nfire, since Pendillo\'s sons did the work so effortlessly. Tak Laleen\r\nwas with the teachers. She sat on the only chair in the room, playing\r\nabstractly with one of Endhart\'s teaching tools--a crude mock-up of the\r\nstructure of a living energy unit. It was the same sort of learning-toy\r\nLanny himself had been given when he was a child.\r\n\r\nLanny burst in on them excitedly. He began to talk at once, trying to\r\nput in words the conviction that had come to him as he stood on the\r\nbridge. Suddenly the words were gone. In his own mind it was clear\r\nenough, but how was he to explain it? How could he tell them it would\r\nbe self-destruction to capture the city of the Almost-men?\r\n\r\n"You wanted to talk to us?" Pendillo prompted him.\r\n\r\n"It--it\'s this vote we\'ve taken for war, father." Lanny glanced at Tak\r\nLaleen. His father and Endhart smiled disarmingly.\r\n\r\n"You can talk quite freely," Endhart said. "Tak Laleen knows the vote\r\nhas been counted. She knows what it means."\r\n\r\n"Unarmed men are going to attack the city," the missionary said without\r\nexpression. "You are very courageous people. But you are certain you\r\nwill win--against our machines and our energy guns." With a frown, she\r\nput aside the model she had been holding. Her face was drawn and tense;\r\nthere was doubt and fear in her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Of course we\'ll take the skyport," Lanny assured her. "That doesn\'t\r\nworry me. It\'s what happens afterward--what we do when we have your\r\nguns and your machines."\r\n\r\nEndhart and Pendillo exchanged glances, in subtle understanding. "The\r\ncity will belong to us," his father said.\r\n\r\n"Why do we want it? The city is a prison!"\r\n\r\nThe eyes of the elders met again. "We need guns to protect ourselves.\r\nHaven\'t you always said that, Lanny? You\'ve heard all the discussions\r\nin the council meetings."\r\n\r\n"But do we, father? Answer me honestly."\r\n\r\n"You can answer that better than I, my son."\r\n\r\nTak Laleen stood up, wringing her hands. "You will face the\r\nforce-field and our guns--but you wonder if you need weapons." With\r\nan effort she checked the hysterical laughter bubbling in her throat.\r\n"My people would say you had gone mad; but who knows the meaning of\r\nmadness?"\r\n\r\nPendillo took the missionary\'s hand firmly in his. "She\'s tired, Lanny.\r\nOur ways are still new to her."\r\n\r\n"And we\'ve had her cooped up in the house too long," Endhart added.\r\n\r\nPendillo glanced sharply at his friend. Endhart nodded. "It is time,"\r\nhe said cryptically.\r\n\r\nPendillo turned toward his son. "A walk outside would do her good,\r\nLanny."\r\n\r\n"Is it safe?"\r\n\r\n"She won\'t try to escape; you and I will go with her."\r\n\r\nPendillo led her toward the door. Her face glowed with hope. She\r\nglanced eagerly down the long street, lit by the evening fires. Lanny\r\nwas sure she was looking for the nearest Chapel of the Triangle,\r\ncalculating her chances of escape. She was the enemy. What reason did\r\nhis father or Endhart have to trust her so blindly?\r\n\r\nAt the door Pendillo turned for a moment toward Endhart. "You\'ll make\r\nsure Gill knows?"\r\n\r\n"At the proper time; leave it to me."\r\n\r\n"Knows what?" Lanny demanded.\r\n\r\n"That we may be a little late for dinner," his father answered blandly.\r\nHe nodded toward Tak Laleen and Lanny understood.\r\n\r\nLanny walked on one side of Tak Laleen and slid his arm firmly under\r\nhers. She kept running her fingers nervously over his arm. She tripped\r\nonce, when her foot caught in a shallow hole; her nails tore a deep\r\ngash in Lanny\'s flesh as he reached out to keep her from falling. He\r\nhealed the wound at once, except for a small area where the germ colony\r\nneeded exposure to the life-energy of the sun. She looked at his arm.\r\nHer lips were trembling; her face was white.\r\n\r\n"So you can do it, Lanny."\r\n\r\nFor a moment he had forgotten her remarkable inability. "You mean the\r\nhealing? All men do that; we always have. A rational mind controls the\r\nstructure and energy of organized matter."\r\n\r\n"I\'ve listened to Dr. Endhart teaching that to the small children," she\r\nreplied. "It--it is difficult to believe." She began to laugh again;\r\nwaves of hysteria swept her body. "I\'m sorry, Lanny. I\'ve thought,\r\nsometimes, that I\'m losing my mind. We\'re never really certain of\r\nourselves, are we? Two plus two doesn\'t have to make four, I suppose;\r\nit\'s just more convenient when it does."\r\n\r\n"I could show you how to heal yourself, Tak Laleen."\r\n\r\n"Ever since I came here I\'ve been learning, Lanny. But it does no good\r\nunless I\'m willing to learn first. My mind is tied down by everything I\r\nalready know. I can put my two and two together as often as I like, and\r\nI still come up with four. Any other answer is insanity."\r\n\r\nTwice, as they walked through the streets, Pendillo took a turn\r\nwhich led toward one of the enemy chapels. Lanny swiftly guided the\r\nmissionary in another direction. The third time they came upon the\r\nChapel of the Triangle suddenly, and before he could pull Tak Laleen\r\nback she broke free and fled toward the glowing Triangle, crying for\r\nhelp in her native tongue.\r\n\r\nLanny sprinted after her. Tak Laleen beat with her fists on the metal\r\ndoor. From the air above them came the high whine of a materializing\r\nforce-field. Capsules swung down upon them. The missionary was\r\nswallowed within the church. Lanny and his father were enveloped in a\r\nsingle bubble.\r\n\r\nIt rose on an automatic beam and arched toward the skyport. In panic\r\nLanny glanced down through the opalescent field at the settlement\r\nrolling by beneath them, and the choppy water of the bay, turned\r\nscarlet by the setting sun. Pendillo leaned calmly against the curved\r\nwall of their prison.\r\n\r\n"She betrayed us!" Lanny cried.\r\n\r\n"I expected her to, my son."\r\n\r\n"You--you knew this would happen?"\r\n\r\n"A teacher must sometimes contrive a unique--and possibly\r\npainful--learning situation. It\'s one of the risks of our profession."\r\n\r\n"Why, father? She\'ll tell the Almost-men about the attack on the\r\nskyport; she\'ll tell them--"\r\n\r\nPendillo tapped the curved wall of force. "We\'re in a tight spot,\r\nLanny. It\'s up to you to get us out--without a gun and without any of\r\nthe enemy machines. All you have to work with are your brains and what\r\nwe\'ve taught you for the past twenty years. I think you can count on\r\nsome help from Gill later on. He\'ll have to attack the skyport tonight,\r\nwithout working out all his fine plans for seizing the arsenal. And\r\nGill won\'t have any guns, either."\r\n\r\n"So you and Endhart planned this."\r\n\r\n"That\'s why I insisted on keeping Tak Laleen alive. I thought we\r\nmight need her as--as a catalyst. The vote of the resistance council\r\nrushed things a little, but on the whole I think it worked out quite\r\nsatisfactorily. Your education is finished, Lanny--for all of you who\r\nare the new breed. Now start applying what we think you know."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFor a brief time the prison sphere that held Lanny and Juan Pendillo\r\nwas suspended above the teeming tiers of skyport streets. Enough time,\r\nLanny guessed, for the enemy to question Tak Laleen and to reach some\r\ndecision based upon what she had to tell them. Abruptly the capsule was\r\nhauled down. Lanny and his father were dumped into barred cells buried\r\nsomewhere in the bowels of the city.\r\n\r\n"What will they do with us?" Lanny asked.\r\n\r\nFrom the adjoining cell his father answered placidly, "It depends on\r\nTak Laleen\'s statement--and how much of it they believe."\r\n\r\n"Will they condemn us to readjustment?"\r\n\r\n"Undoubtedly, unless you solve our problem first--and these bars seem\r\nthoroughly solid to me."\r\n\r\nLanny drew in his breath sharply, suddenly afraid. "What\'s it like,\r\nfather--the readjustment?"\r\n\r\n"No one knows, really. A machine tears your mind apart and puts it\r\ntogether again--differently."\r\n\r\nLanny shivered as he remembered the half-dozen readjustment cases he\r\nhad seen in the Santa Barbara treaty area--living shells, with all\r\ninitiative and individuality drained from their souls. He moved to\r\nthe barred door of his cell. For a split-second of panic he seized\r\nthe bars and futilely tried to pry them apart. Slowly edging into his\r\nconsciousness came a vague awareness of the structural pattern of the\r\nenergy units in the metal. It was the same extension of his integrated\r\ncommunity of cells which he had with his hunting club. His panic\r\nvanished; he felt a little ashamed because he had been afraid. It would\r\nbe no problem to escape.\r\n\r\nHe held the bars and allowed his mind to feel through the pattern of\r\nenergy organization. The metal was very different from any of the\r\nfamiliar substances Lanny knew, but far less complex because the\r\narrangement was so rigidly disciplined. There were two things that\r\nLanny might do. He could fit the energy units of his own body past\r\nthe space intervals of the metal--in effect, passing through the metal\r\nbarrier. But that would be slow and exacting work. It would require a\r\nconsiderable concentration to move the specialized cells of his body\r\nacross the metal maze. The second method was easier. As he extended his\r\ncerebral integration into the metal, he could rearrange the energy unit\r\npattern. The bars should fragment and fall apart.\r\n\r\nLanny was amazed how rapidly the change took place. Before he could\r\nadjust the pattern of more than half a dozen energy units, a chain\r\nreaction began. Lanny found he had to absorb an enormous flow of\r\nsuperfluous energy to prevent an explosion.\r\n\r\nAs soon as he crossed into the corridor, watching photo-electric cells\r\nsent an alarm pulsing into the guard room on the tier above. The\r\nmetal-walled corridor throbbed with the deafening cry of a siren.\r\n\r\nLanny darted toward his father\'s cell. "Hold the metal and make it over\r\nwith your mind--just as we integrate with our clubs. It\'s the same\r\nprincipal, father."\r\n\r\nPendillo shrugged. "I can\'t, Lanny. I don\'t know how."\r\n\r\nLanny had no time to weigh the significance of what his father said\r\nfor the scream of the siren stopped and a guard appeared at the head\r\nof the corridor. The guard wrapped himself hastily in the shell\r\nof a force-field capsule. He fired his energy gun. The knife of\r\nflame arched through the corridor and struck Lanny\'s face. His body\r\nreacted instinctively, absorbing and storing part of the charge and\r\nre-constructing the rest so that it became a harmless combination of\r\ninert gasses.\r\n\r\nBut as the blinding flame splashed bright in Lanny\'s eyes--the way it\r\nhad once before, when he murdered old Barlow--Lanny\'s mind faced the\r\ntraumatic shock of remembering. Lanny had murdered Barlow--he knew\r\nthat, now--murdered him with a blaze of energy which he had stored when\r\nhe brushed against the force-field capsule surrounding Tak Laleen.\r\n\r\nIt was not the fact of murder that had clamped the strait-jacket of\r\nforgetfulness on Lanny\'s mind and allowed him to think Tak Laleen had\r\nkilled Barlow. He had known, for one split-second, the full maturity of\r\nthe education Pendillo had given his sons. Known it too soon, with too\r\nlittle preparation. Now he understood why he had felt ashamed, why he\'d\r\nretreated deliberately from the truth: because he had killed Barlow\r\nto resolve an old argument, not to be rid of a traitor. The method of\r\nmurder had, ironically, given him the answer to Barlow\'s poison of\r\ndespair; but because the two had happened simultaneously, the emotional\r\nshock of one had affected the other.\r\n\r\nThe bursting charge of energy washed away his absurdly exaggerated\r\nsense of guilt. He achieved the mature integration he had lost before;\r\nhis mind was whole again. The integration was nothing new--merely\r\na restatement of what Pendillo had taught him, what all the treaty\r\narea teachers taught the new children. The mind of man could control\r\nthe energy structure of matter. Pendillo called that rationality.\r\nBut matter and energy were synonymous. The teachers had implied that\r\nwithout teaching it directly. A mind that could heal a body wound was\r\nalso able to control the energy blast from an enemy gun.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFrom his father\'s cell Lanny heard a stifled groan. He looked back.\r\nThe bars of the cell had been twisted by the blast; Pendillo was badly\r\nhurt. His wounds seemed to be extensive, but Lanny was sure his father\r\nwould heal himself quickly.\r\n\r\nLanny sprang at the guard. The Almost-man had enough courage to hold\r\nhis ground, still sure of his impregnable machines. He was aiming his\r\nenergy gun again when Lanny touched the opalescent capsule. That, too,\r\nwas nothing now; Lanny had found his way into the new world. The field\r\nof force was simply energy in another form. Lanny could have reshaped\r\nthe field, intensified it, or dissolved it as he chose.\r\n\r\nHe shattered the capsule, like a bubble of glass. He smashed the gun\r\naside. The guard stood before him, stripped of his mechanical armor--a\r\nman, facing his enemy as a man.\r\n\r\nAs the guard turned to run, Lanny reached out for him leisurely. Weakly\r\nthe guard swung his fist at Lanny\'s face. Lanny laughed and slapped at\r\nthe ineffectual, white hand. The guard howled and clutched the broken\r\nfingers against his mouth. Desperately he kicked at Lanny with his\r\nmetal-soled boots. Lanny dodged. The unexpected momentum sent the\r\nguard reeling and he had no efficient capsule to hold him up.\r\n\r\nHe sprawled on the metal floor close to his energy gun. He grasped\r\nfor the weapon as Lanny leaped toward him. For one brief moment Lanny\r\nsaw madness film his enemy\'s eyes. Then the guard began to scream. He\r\nthrust the muzzle of the energy gun against his own chest and pressed\r\nthe firing stud.\r\n\r\nLanny turned away from the smoldering heap of charred flesh and went\r\nback to his father\'s cell. He disorganized the energy units of the\r\ntormented knot of metal bars and knelt beside Pendillo. Lanny was\r\namazed that his father had made no effort to heal his wounds. Juan\r\nwas bleeding profusely; his eyes were glazed with pain. Lanny lifted\r\nPendillo tenderly in his arms.\r\n\r\n"Father! You must begin the healing--"\r\n\r\n"I do not know how, Lanny."\r\n\r\n"All men control their own body cells!"\r\n\r\n"So you were taught, and what a man believes is true--for him."\r\n\r\nCautiously Lanny extended his energy integration into his father\'s\r\nbody. It was something he had never done before with a living man. The\r\nweak disorganization of cells frightened him. Clearly Pendillo was\r\ntelling the truth; he was incapable of ordering his own healing. Then\r\nhow had he taught his sons so well, if he could not use the technique\r\nhimself?\r\n\r\nHesitantly Lanny released into his father\'s body some of the energy he\r\nhad stored. He wasn\'t sure what the effect would be, but it seemed to\r\nhelp. Pendillo tried to smile; his eyes became clearer.\r\n\r\n"Thanks, Lanny. But you can\'t save me, my son. I\'ve lost too much\r\nblood; I have too many internal injuries."\r\n\r\n"But you could do it for yourself, Father." Lanny shook his head. "I\r\ndon\'t understand why--"\r\n\r\n"You wouldn\'t, Lanny. You\'re the new breed."\r\n\r\n"You say that so often."\r\n\r\n"In my time that might have meant a new species--supermen we created by\r\ngenetics in a biological laboratory. But we\'ve done more than that. You\r\naren\'t freaks; you\'re our children in every sense of the word. We have\r\nmade you men; we\'ve taught you how to think."\r\n\r\n"You deliberately made us as we are?"\r\n\r\n"Every man who lived before your time was an Almost-man, Lanny. He had\r\nyour same potential, but he hadn\'t learned how to use it."\r\n\r\n"How are we different?"\r\n\r\nPendillo was seized with a sudden spasm of coughing; blood trickled\r\nfrom his lips. Once again Lanny released a shock wave of energy into\r\nhis father\'s body, and Pendillo\'s strength was partially restored.\r\n\r\n"I will tell you as much as I can," Pendillo promised, but his voice\r\nwas no longer as clear as it had been. "I don\'t have much time left.\r\nThe idea for our new breed of men began at the time of the invasion.\r\nLanny, there wasn\'t much to choose from between our people and the\r\nenemy. Our cities were like theirs; we were enslaved by machines--by\r\nthe technological bric-a-brac of our culture--as they are. Only our\r\nscience was different. We had exploited the energy of coal and oil and\r\nwater-power; we were beginning to accumulate a good deal of data about\r\nthe basic atomic structure of matter.\r\n\r\n"But we would have ridiculed any serious consideration of\r\ndegravitation, or the magnetic energy of a field of force. These were\r\nthe trappings of our escapist fiction, not of genuine science. We had\r\na more or less closed field allowed to legitimate scientific research;\r\nany data beyond it was vigorously ignored.\r\n\r\n"Then, from nowhere, we were invaded and utterly defeated by an\r\nalien people who used the precise laws of science we had scorned.\r\nFurthermore, we saw them ridicule our principles as semi-religious\r\nrituals of a savage culture. In the invasion less than a tenth of\r\nmankind survived. We were herded into the treaty areas, with no\r\ngovernment and no real leadership. Some of us had been teachers before\r\nthe war; the survivors looked to us to preserve the spirit and the\r\nideals of man.\r\n\r\n"We had to make a selective choice, Lanny. We had no books, no written\r\nrecords, no way to preserve the whole of the past. The teachers in all\r\nthe treaty areas quickly established contact by courier. The lesson of\r\nthe invasion had taught us a great deal. Men had been imprisoned by one\r\nscientific dogma, which had produced a mechanized and neurotic world.\r\nThe Almost-men were trapped by another that had produced the same end\r\nresult.\r\n\r\n"So we had our first objective: to teach our children the supreme\r\ndignity, the magnificent godliness, of the rational mind. We didn\'t\r\ntell you what to think--which had been our mistake in the past--but\r\nsimply the vital necessity of rational thought. We taught you that\r\nthe mind was the integrating factor in the universe; everything else\r\nwas chaos, without objectivity or direction, until it was controlled\r\nby mind. After that, we jammed your brains with data from every\r\nfield of knowledge that had ever been explored by man. That\'s why\r\nwe interchanged couriers so frequently. In our world we had been\r\nspecialists; we had to share the facts among ourselves so the new breed\r\nmight have them all."\r\n\r\nFar away they heard the dull thunder of an explosion. Lanny\'s head\r\njerked up. Pendillo coughed up blood again, but there was a satisfied\r\nsmile on his lips. "That will be Gill and the boys from the treaty\r\narea," he sighed. "Arriving right on schedule. We\'ve forced them to\r\nattack the city without weapons; to survive, they\'ll have to make the\r\nsame mental reintegration that you did, Lanny."\r\n\r\n"How could you have been so sure, father, that we would be able to--to\r\nhandle the matter-energy units the way we do?"\r\n\r\n"We weren\'t, my son. We were sure of nothing. We only knew that you\r\nwere the first generation whose minds had been set completely free.\r\nNobody had done any of your thinking for you. If any man is equipped\r\nto solve problems, you are--you of the new breed."\r\n\r\n"But why couldn\'t you learn the same techniques yourselves? Why can\'t\r\nyou save yourself now, father?"\r\n\r\n"Because we belong in the old world. Because the technique is only\r\nan application of the data you know, Lanny; that is something you\r\nhave worked out for yourselves. We could give you the theory; we were\r\nincapable of following it through your minds."\r\n\r\nPendillo gasped painfully for breath. He closed his hand over his\r\nson\'s. "The old survivors are still imprisoned by beliefs carried over\r\nfrom the world we lost. We teach, Lanny, but we cannot believe as\r\nyou do, even when we see our own children--our own sons--" His voice\r\ntrailed away, and he slumped against Lanny\'s chest.\r\n\r\nA series of explosions rocked the metal walls; Pendillo opened his eyes\r\nagain. His dying whisper was so soft, so twisted by pain, the words\r\nwere almost inaudible. "One more thing, son. We did more--more than\r\nwe thought. Don\'t retreat to our world; make your own. Without the\r\nmachines and the city walls and the uproar--"\r\n\r\nJuan Pendillo grasped his son\'s hand. His fingers quivered for a moment\r\nof agony. And then he died.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nLanny stumbled away from the cell, his eyes dim with tears. The\r\nrepetitive explosions continued outside in the domed city. Lanny\r\ndiscovered the origin of the sound when he made his way up the\r\nincline to the upper level. The parade of gigantic freight spheres\r\nwas swinging in from the void of night, but the port machines, which\r\nhandled the landings, were idle. The spheres were crashing, one upon\r\nthe other, into the field just beyond the city. From disengaged,\r\npliable tubes, jerking with the spasmodic torment of mechanical chaos,\r\nthe raw materials plundered from the earth poured out upon the ruin.\r\nFire licked at the wreckage, probing hungrily toward the city of the\r\nAlmost-men.\r\n\r\nLanny ran through the deserted guard rooms. Beyond the walls he heard a\r\nbabble of panic on the city streets. The first exit that he found led\r\nup to the second level, where no man had ever been.\r\n\r\nHe emerged on an ornate balcony, which overlooked the square where the\r\ntrading booths stood. The force dome that had sheltered the city was\r\ngone. Lanny could look up and see the stars--and the endless parade of\r\nglowing freight spheres descending toward the earth. The air was clean,\r\ncold and wet with the sea mist.\r\n\r\nIn a sense the depressing, stifling city he had seen that afternoon was\r\nalready gone--except for the bleak walls and the clatter of machine\r\nsounds. And, in the agony of its death, the city noise had become the\r\nscream of mechanized madness. A seething mass of vehicles choked every\r\ntier, fighting for space, grinding each other into rubble. Vehicles\r\ncareened from the upper roads and plunged into the mass beneath.\r\n\r\nAt first it seemed a panic of machines. The people were trivial\r\nincidentals--bits of fluff which had been unfortunate enough to get in\r\nthe way of the turning wheels. Then Lanny saw the walkaways, as crowded\r\nas the roads. A mass of humanity spewed through the doors of the luxury\r\nhotels, like run-off streams swelling the floodtide of a swollen river.\r\nWhere were the Almost-men going? How could they escape? They had given\r\ntheir will and initiative to their machines; they could do nothing to\r\nhelp themselves.\r\n\r\nLanny saw an occasional opalescent bubble rise in the air. But\r\ninevitably, before it could move beyond the city, a force of blazing\r\nenergy shot up from the lowest tier and brought the capsule down. Here\r\nand there in the darkness Lanny saw the furious blast of an energy gun,\r\nprobing futilely into the chaos.\r\n\r\nAs the fire rose higher in the port wreckage, Lanny saw men fighting\r\non the lower tier. They held the bridge and the trading square and\r\nthey had taken the power center, which explained why the city was dark\r\nand why the force dome was gone. But they were still fighting to take\r\nthe arsenal. A squad of guards held them off with energy guns; the men\r\nfought back from the darkness with weapons they had captured elsewhere.\r\n\r\nEven now they hadn\'t discovered the truth; they still feared the enemy\r\nweapons. They still thought they must have guns of their own--machines\r\nof their own--in order to be free. Build your own world, Pendillo had\r\nsaid; don\'t go back to ours.\r\n\r\nLanny pushed through the throng on the walkway, trying to find an\r\nincline to the lower tier. Once or twice people in the mob saw him, in\r\nthe shuddering light reflected by the energy guns, and recognized him\r\nas a man--a half-naked, black-bearded savage. They screamed in terror.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThis was the hour of man\'s revenge, yet Lanny felt an inexpressible\r\nshame and sadness. Was this the way man\'s cities had died a generation\r\nago, in a discord of mechanical sound, without courage and without\r\ndignity?\r\n\r\nAt last he found the incline to the lower level. It was jammed with a\r\nmass of Almost-men, fighting and clawing their way down so they might\r\nflee into the hunting preserve beyond the city. The tide swept Lanny\r\nwith it. At the foot of the incline he circled the arsenal to join the\r\nmen, still confined in the trading square.\r\n\r\nGill was directing the fire of his men as they inched forward. He\r\nclapped Lanny on the back, grinning broadly.\r\n\r\n"I knew you\'d get out, Lan. Is Juan all right?"\r\n\r\n"He\'s dead, Gill. He was wounded and he didn\'t know how to heal\r\nhimself."\r\n\r\n"He had to know, Lanny; he taught us."\r\n\r\n"They all taught us. They made us--" Lanny\'s voice choked a little\r\nas he used his father\'s familiar phrase. "--a new breed. Gill, we\'re\r\nacting like fools; we\'re fighting for something we don\'t want or need."\r\n\r\n"We have to have weapons, Lan."\r\n\r\n"We need nothing but what we\'ve been taught. The mind interprets and\r\ncommands the chaos of the universe. Matter and energy are identical."\r\n\r\nLanny turned and walked, erect and unafraid, toward the arsenal.\r\nThe energy fire from the guards\' guns struck him and exploded. He\r\nreorganized the pattern into harmless components and stood waiting for\r\nthe charge to die away.\r\n\r\nIn a moment Gill was beside him, beaming with understanding as he met\r\nand transformed a second blast from the guns. "Of course matter and\r\nenergy are the same!" he cried. "It should have been obvious to us. We\r\nhave been prisoners twenty years for nothing."\r\n\r\n"We needed those twenty years to discover our new world. We have only\r\nfinished our education tonight."\r\n\r\nAs a third blast of energy came from the arsenal, other men slid out of\r\nthe darkness and faced the guns. Lanny and Gill walked away, ignoring\r\nthe screaming machines and the stabbing knives of fire.\r\n\r\n"Yesterday," Gill said slowly, "if I had known that I could direct a\r\nflow of energy just as easily as I integrate with my hunting club, I\r\nwould have stood here cheerfully and slaughtered the Almost-men, just\r\nto watch them die. Now, I\'m sorry for them."\r\n\r\n"There\'s no reason why they must all die in panic, Gill. Isn\'t there\r\nsome way--"\r\n\r\nBehind them they heard a burst of ragged cheering. The arsenal guards,\r\nhaving seen their weapons fail, had deserted their posts and fled. Men\r\nstormed into the building, shattering the metal doors by re-organizing\r\nthe energy structure. Slowly they wheeled out the great machines--the\r\nsymbols of enemy power.\r\n\r\n"We fought for this," one of the men said. "And now we have no use for\r\nthem."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGill called a meeting of the resistance council in the deserted\r\ntrading square, while the city around them throbbed in the chaos of\r\ndisintegration. The men were entirely aware of the problem created by\r\ntheir liberation. The new breed was free, on the threshold of a new and\r\nunexplored world. They could carry the message to other treaty areas;\r\nthey could show other men the final lesson in reorientation. That much\r\nwas simple. But what became of the enemy?\r\n\r\n"It would be absurd to kill them all," Gill said. He added with\r\nunconscious irony, "After all, they do know how to think on their own\r\nrestricted level. They might be able, someday, to learn how to become\r\ncivilized men."\r\n\r\n"The worst of it," one of the others pointed out, "is that their home\r\nworld is bound to know something\'s wrong. The delivery of resources has\r\nalready been interrupted. They will try to reconquer us. It doesn\'t\r\nmatter, particularly, but it might become a little tiresome after a\r\nwhile."\r\n\r\n"Ever since I understood how this would end," Lanny said, "I\'ve\r\nbeen wondering if we couldn\'t work out some way for them to keep the\r\nskyports just as they are. Let the Almost-men have our resources. They\r\nneed them; we don\'t."\r\n\r\nThe council agreed to this with no debate. Lanny was delegated to find\r\nsomeone in authority in the skyport and offer him such a treaty. Lanny\r\nasked Gill to go with him. The others split into two groups, one to put\r\nout the fires and clear away the port wreckage; the second to herd the\r\nenemy refugees together in the game preserve and protect them from the\r\nanimals.\r\n\r\nLanny and Gill pushed through the mob toward the upper levels of the\r\ncity. The crowd had thinned considerably as more and more of the enemy\r\nfled into the forest. The brothers, barefoot giants, had an entirely\r\nunconscious arrogance in their stride. They passed the rows of luxury\r\nhotels and entered the government building. Here, apparently, there was\r\nan emergency source of power, for the corridor tubes glowed dimly with\r\na sick, blue light. Room after room the brothers entered; they found no\r\none--nothing but the disorderly debris of haste and panic.\r\n\r\nMethodically they worked their way to the top floor of the building. In\r\na wing beyond the courtroom were the private quarters of the planetary\r\ngovernor.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe sat waiting for them in his glass-paneled office overlooking the\r\ntiers of the city. He was a tall man, slightly stooped by age. He\r\nhad put on the full, formal uniform of his office--a green plastic,\r\nornamented with a scarlet filagree and a chest stripe of jeweled\r\nmedals. He was behind his desk with the wall behind him open upon the\r\nsky.\r\n\r\n"I expected a stampeding herd," he said.\r\n\r\n"You knew we were coming?" Lanny asked.\r\n\r\n"It was obvious you\'d try to force us to sign a new treaty."\r\n\r\n"Call it a working agreement," Gill suggested. "We intend to let you\r\nkeep the--"\r\n\r\n"You have panicked the city by taking advantage of our kindness. But\r\nyou won\'t pull this stunt again; I\'ve already requested a stronger\r\noccupation force from parliament."\r\n\r\nThe governor stood up; he held an energy gun in his hand. "This\r\nfrightens you, doesn\'t it? You should have expected one of us to keep\r\na level head. I\'ve handled savages before. You\'re very clever in\r\ncreating believable illusions, particularly when there seems to be some\r\nreligious significance. I should have known it was a trick when you\r\nsent that addle-witted missionary back to us."\r\n\r\n"Tak Laleen?"\r\n\r\n"Of course none of my men tell me what\'s going on until it\'s too late.\r\nThey took her to the Triangle first. She talked to the priests, and\r\nthey filled the city with all sorts of weird rumors about men who could\r\ncontrol the energy pattern of matter." The governor\'s lip curled; he\r\nnodded toward a side door. "She\'s here now, under house arrest. She\'ll\r\nbe expelled from the territory on the first ship out after the port is\r\nreopened."\r\n\r\n"She\'s wasn\'t lying," Lanny said. "She understood more than we did\r\nourselves. Maybe Juan told her--"\r\n\r\nThe governor laughed and motioned with his gun. "Will you join her, or\r\ndo you want to force me to spoil your pretty illusion?"\r\n\r\nGill walked unhurriedly toward the desk. "You must listen to us. Fire\r\nthe gun, if you insist on that much proof. We want to save your world,\r\nnot destroy it."\r\n\r\nThe governor backed toward the open wall panel. "Stand where you are,\r\nor I\'ll fire!"\r\n\r\n"Just give us a chance to explain--"\r\n\r\n"The whole business is drivel. Superstitious nonsense. No man can\r\nviolate the established laws of science."\r\n\r\n"Why not, since men made the laws originally?"\r\n\r\nThe shell of dignity in the governor\'s manner began to crack away,\r\nrevealing the naked hysteria that lay beneath. Gill moved again. The\r\ngovernor punched the firing stud of his energy gun. The fire lashed\r\nharmlessly at Gill\'s chest.\r\n\r\n"It\'s a lie!" the governor screamed. He fired the gun again at Lanny;\r\nthen at Gill. His mouth quivered with terror. He was an intelligent\r\nman; he looked upon the evidence of a fact that overturned everything\r\nhe believed. In the clamor of a dying city, still throbbing far below\r\nhis open wall panel, he heard the testimony of the same discord. He\r\nlost his rational world in the chaos, and he hadn\'t the ability to find\r\nanother.\r\n\r\nFor a moment the governor stood looking at the half-naked giants he had\r\nbeen unable to kill. Then he flung the weapon away and leaped through\r\nthe open panel into the mechanical clatter of the dying city.\r\n\r\n"Once I wouldn\'t have cared," Gill told his brother. "Now I do. Lanny,\r\nmust we destroy their world in spite of ourselves?"\r\n\r\nThey heard a faint voice behind them. "Not all of us, Gill." The\r\nbrothers turned. They saw Tak Laleen, dressed again in the white\r\nuniform of the missionary. She came slowly through the metal panel of a\r\ndoor.\r\n\r\n"You see, it is possible for us to learn," she said when she stood\r\nwithin the room. "I have."\r\n\r\n"Then all your people--"\r\n\r\n"Not all of them. A few, if they\'re fortunate."\r\n\r\n"You did it, Tak Laleen; most of our older survivors haven\'t."\r\n\r\n"They watched you grow up. The change was so gradual, they weren\'t\r\naware of it. I fell into your hands at the moment when you were\r\nyourselves discovering your potential capabilities. I followed the\r\nthree of you when you ran away from the sphere police in Santa Barbara.\r\nOne of you had touched my force-field capsule and drained away its\r\npower. I had to know how you did it. By intuition I guessed something\r\nvery close to the truth, but even so it could have unhinged my mind\r\nif it hadn\'t been for Juan Pendillo. He taught me what he had taught\r\nyou--a new point of view, a new way of looking at the world. He was so\r\ngentle and so patient, so easy to understand."\r\n\r\n"And after all that, you ran away from the skyport and betrayed him."\r\n\r\n"It was a put up job." She smiled. "Juan and I worked it out together.\r\nHe wanted to force the city guards to attack the treaty area; but, if\r\nmy people refused to believe what I told them, at least Gill would\r\ntry to rescue his father and Lanny. We had to make the conflict begin\r\nbefore you were armed. If you won by using a machine, you might put\r\nyour faith in machines again instead of yourselves. It was a risk for\r\nJuan and myself, but more so for you. No one really knew what you might\r\nbe able to do, or what your ultimate limitations were."\r\n\r\n"There are none," Gill said.\r\n\r\n"I know that now, because I\'ve made the reorientation myself. I didn\'t\r\nthen. The rational mind is the only integrating factor in the chaos of\r\nthe universe--Juan told me that. It is literally true. Mind creates the\r\nuniverse by interpreting it." She put her hand in Lanny\'s and looked\r\nup at the stars patterning the void of night. "I wish I might say that\r\nto my people and have them understand; but the clatter of our machines\r\ncloses us in. Our world will die in violence and madness, the way the\r\nskyport died tonight. We may be able to help the survivors afterward;\r\nwe can do nothing now."\r\n\r\n"But we must do it now," Lanny persisted stubbornly. "We don\'t want\r\nrevenge, Tak Laleen; we\'ve outgrown our reason for that."\r\n\r\n"Can you teach my people any differently than you learned yourself? It\r\ntook an invasion and twenty years of imprisonment before you were able\r\nto break free from your old patterns of thinking."\r\n\r\n"But you did it in a day."\r\n\r\n"In the beginning, your teachers didn\'t know what their goal was; they\r\nonly knew they had a problem and it had to be solved. I came in at the\r\nend, when their job was nearly finished and they were pretty sure where\r\nthey were headed. That\'s why it was so easy for me."\r\n\r\n"And your world does that, too."\r\n\r\nGill fingered his lip. "The trouble is, Lanny, it isn\'t simply a matter\r\nof giving them the facts. To us they are obvious, but you saw what\r\nhappened to the governor. How can we make a man believe a new truth,\r\nwhen it means giving up all the science he has always believed?"\r\n\r\n"We failed with the governor because we threw the end result in his\r\nface without giving him a logical reason to accept it."\r\n\r\nTak Laleen shook her head. "And so we\'re back where we started. We\r\nhave to let my world fall apart before we can save it." She moved\r\nimpatiently toward the door. "This building is a tomb. I want to walk\r\non the soil and smell the wind and taste the energy of the earth."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn an uncomfortable silence they left the government building. Gill\r\nintegrated with the power in the lift, and they rode the elevator to\r\nthe ground level. As the cage slid past the empty floors, Gill broke\r\nthe silence abruptly.\r\n\r\n"If all we want is to prevent chaos on your world, Tak Laleen, it won\'t\r\nbe hard. We\'ll just go through with the treaty we intended to offer to\r\nthe governor. We can put things back as they were and go on delivering\r\nresources to the Almost-men. The only people who know the truth will\r\nbe our prisoners. We can keep them out of sight and ourselves play at\r\nbeing Almost-men to satisfy any tourists who come to the skyport."\r\n\r\n"We\'ll have to do that for a while, until we work out something better;\r\nbut it\'s only a stopgap. We have a problem," Lanny said doggedly. "We\r\nknow it can be solved, because it has been for ourselves and for Tak\r\nLaleen. All we have to find is the method."\r\n\r\n"Learning begins with a need," the missionary said. "For you, it was\r\ntwenty years of despair: invasion, humiliation, surrender. Your old\r\nideas didn\'t work. You either had to accept status as second-raters\r\nor work out a new way of thinking. As for me--" She shrugged her\r\nshoulders. "I suppose I couldn\'t help myself. I did try to run away,\r\nremember. I tried every possible answer in terms of our logic first.\r\nI even thought, for a while, that Lanny was a robot. Anything but the\r\ntruth."\r\n\r\nGill asked, "When did you first begin to understand? What happened that\r\nmade you willing to believe the truth?"\r\n\r\n"It was an accumulation of many things, I suppose."\r\n\r\n"That isn\'t specific enough. There must have been one instant when you\r\nwere willing to give up what you believed and start learning something\r\nnew."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know when it was."\r\n\r\nThey left the government building and walked through the lower\r\ncourtyards of the city. Groups of Almost-men were being herded back\r\ninto the city from the game preserve. They clung together, hushed and\r\nterrified. The city lights were in working order once more and the\r\nflashing colors turned their faces into gargoyle masks. Three guards,\r\nin torn and bloodstained uniforms, stood looking at the machines which\r\nmen had hauled out of the arsenal. Suddenly one of the soldiers began\r\nto kick at an abandoned gun, screaming in fury while tears of rage\r\nwelled from his eyes.\r\n\r\nLanny turned away. It was painfully embarrassing to watch the\r\ndissolution of a human personality, even on the relatively immature\r\nlevel which the machine culture of the Almost-men had achieved. But as\r\nTak Laleen watched the spectacle of childish rage, sudden hope blazed\r\nin her eyes. She grasped Lan\'s arm.\r\n\r\n"He\'s blaming the machine for our defeat," she said. "Now I remember\r\nwhat happened to me; now I know! When you were running away from Santa\r\nMaria, Lanny, you fired an energy gun at my sphere. It destroyed the\r\nforce-field and I fell out of the port. I was terrified--not so much of\r\nyou, but because my machine had failed. All night while I lay in the\r\nlaunch, I faced that awful nightmare. For the first time in my life, I\r\nbegan to doubt the system I had trusted. I lost faith in my own world.\r\nI felt a need for something else."\r\n\r\nLanny repeated slowly, "Loss of faith in the status quo--"\r\n\r\n"Could we duplicate that for all your people, Tak Laleen?" Gill asked\r\ndoubtfully.\r\n\r\n"Yes, I\'m sure we could, Gill. We have a clue; we know what has to be\r\ndone. And we have an experimental laboratory." The missionary nodded\r\ntoward the mob of cringing Almost-men coming in from the preserve. "We\r\nhave a city of people, disorganized by panic, with their faith in the\r\nmachine already shattered. While we teach these people how to make the\r\nreorientation, we\'ll learn the methods that will work most effectively\r\nwith my world."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey left the city and began to cross the bridge toward the treaty\r\narea. Tak Laleen passed her arms through theirs. She said, with sorrow\r\nin her voice, "No matter what we do, no matter how carefully we try\r\nto cushion the panic, we still have no way of being entirely sure of\r\nthe results. Something that works with our prisoners or with us might\r\ndestroy my world; it could send a planet into mass paranoia."\r\n\r\n"That risk is implied in all learning, Tak Laleen," Lanny answered.\r\n"We can never escape it. I\'m not sure we ought to try. The individual\r\nwho lives in a closed world of absolutes--shut in by prison walls of\r\nhis own mind--is already insane. The sudden development of a new idea\r\nsimply makes the condition apparent."\r\n\r\n"In a sense," Gill added, "there is no such thing as a teacher. There\r\nare people who expose us to data and try to demonstrate some techniques\r\nwe can use, but any learning that goes on must come from within\r\nourselves."\r\n\r\n"We will develop the most effective method we can," Lanny said. "Then\r\nwe will apply it to your world, Tak Laleen. The rest is up to them.\r\nThat\'s as it should be--as it must be."\r\n\r\nArm in arm they crossed the bridge--two men and a missionary from\r\nan alien world. They had been enemies, but during a night of chaos\r\nand death they had learned to become men--the first men to catch the\r\nvision of the new world of the mind. Each of them was soberly aware\r\nthat the discovery was not an end, but a beginning. And they faced\r\nthat beginning with neither fear nor regret, because they had the\r\nconfidence that comes of maturity. The unknown was not a god-power or a\r\ndevil-power, but a problem to be solved by the skill of a rational mind.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALMOST-MEN ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'The Purple Pariah'

'Tustin, Byron'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Purple Pariah\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Purple Pariah\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Byron Tustin\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Kelly Freas\r\n\r\nRelease date: November 17, 2020 [eBook #63787]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PURPLE PARIAH ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE PURPLE PARIAH\r\n\r\n By BYRON TUSTIN\r\n\r\n It was round and purple and awfully, awfully\r\n sad. And it told the most melancholy story Archie\r\n Simms had ever heard. Yup, \'twas a real million-year\r\n tragedy, this tale of the purple pariah.\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Planet Stories March 1954.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe rocket ship whirled down from the sky and crashed into the\r\nhillside. A cloud of dust rose lazily from the spot and mingled with\r\nthe white fumes escaping from the vessel.\r\n\r\nThe escape hatch opened and Archie Simms jumped down to the surface of\r\nthe planet.\r\n\r\n"Oh-oh, Ed--here\'s the welcoming committee!" he yelled. Ed Bailey\'s\r\nface appeared in the doorway.\r\n\r\nThe two men stared grimly at a motionless purple sphere, about eight\r\nfeet in diameter, that rested fifty feet from the damaged rocket. On\r\nthe surface of the sphere were two huge, sad eyes that watched the\r\nrocket ship with melancholy attention.\r\n\r\n"What is it?" asked Ed Bailey.\r\n\r\n"Damned if I know," snorted Archie Simms. He ambled toward the purple\r\nsphere. "Shoo," he said. "Go on, get out of here. Shoo!" The purple\r\nsphere did not move, but its two huge eyes regarded him sadly.\r\n\r\n"Hey, don\'t get too close to it."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t worry." Archie procured a rock from the ground and hurled it at\r\nthe purple sphere. He missed; the eyes of the sphere contemplated him\r\neven more sadly. The sphere did not move.\r\n\r\n"Should I fire the cannon at it?" queried Ed.\r\n\r\n"Leave it alone. It just wants to sit there and watch us." He walked up\r\nto the purple sphere and examined it closely. He petted it between its\r\ntwo huge eyes and it looked at him sadly.\r\n\r\nEd jumped down from the ship with a large book under one arm. He paged\r\nhurriedly through it. Archie ran his hand gently over the purple\r\nsphere\'s fur. The purple sphere eyed him sadly.\r\n\r\n"Here\'s where we are," said Ed. "That meteor rammed us just as we came\r\nto Sector QMA. That star up there\'s XTM-L-48935; we\'re on the eighth\r\nplanet. Says here the place was explored twenty years ago: No life on\r\nit."\r\n\r\n"Wonder how they missed this fellow," commented Archie, stroking the\r\nsphere sympathetically. The sphere looked at him with great, sad eyes.\r\n\r\n"Incompetent bastards," Ed remarked pleasantly. "That\'s the racket we\r\nshould be in, Arch:--space exploring. You get lots of money and you\r\ndon\'t do any work. Why, I\'ve heard stories--"\r\n\r\n"Let\'s see about it when we get back," suggested Archie.\r\n\r\n"Funny, though;--here\'s this thing waiting for us as soon as we smash.\r\nThey must\'ve been blind drunk when they explored this place. Or else\r\npurple there\'s come since."\r\n\r\n"Maybe that\'s it."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll check." He riffled through some more pages. "This damn index is\r\nalphabetical. Maybe it\'s from another planet and just visiting."\r\n\r\n"Who knows?"\r\n\r\n"What do you think they\'ll call it in here?"\r\n\r\n"I can\'t ever find anything in that damn catalogue. Try under spheres:\r\nPurple spheres."\r\n\r\n"Mmmm." He concentrated on the index. "\'Parallelopipeds\' ...\r\n\'pseudospheres\' ... \'rhombi\' ... \'segmented objects\' ... here it is:\r\n\'Spheres.\' They\'ve got a lot of spheres here! All sorts of \'em. We\'ve\r\ngot to go by color. You think he\'s purple?"\r\n\r\n"Sort of purple."\r\n\r\n"Here\'s something violet: \'Spheres, violet. Fire-breathing mammal\r\nof Planet III, TRP-U-44476, Sector LKW. Approximately three feet\r\nin diameter. Females frequently found with yellow polka dots on\r\nunderside.\'"\r\n\r\n"Try again. Melancholy here\'s three times that big." He stooped down\r\nand gazed up at the purple sphere from underneath. "Uh-uh, no yellow\r\npolka dots either." The purple sphere looked down at him with sad eyes.\r\n\r\n"What\'s ochre?" asked Ed Bailey.\r\n\r\n"God knows!"\r\n\r\n"Is this thing ochre?"\r\n\r\n"God knows that too, Bailey." He turned abruptly to the purple sphere:\r\n"Are you ochre?" The purple sphere looked at him sadly.\r\n\r\n"Cut the clowning," rasped Ed. "Here\'s an index. \'Ochre:--pale yellow.\'"\r\n\r\n"You learn something every day."\r\n\r\n"Here\'s a good bet: \'Spheres, Fuchsia.\' Would you call it Fuchsia?"\r\n\r\n"I guess he\'s pretty Fuchsia."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"\'Spheres, Fuchsia: Most common shape and color of Chameleon Tiger of\r\nPlanet IV, YAP-A-90909, Sector WKM. Reptile; can assume any geometrical\r\nshape and/or color. Is carnivorous, and exceedingly dangerous.\r\nApproximately eight feet in diameter.\'"\r\n\r\n"More like it! This boy must be their great-grandaddy. He doesn\'t look\r\ndangerous: Maybe he\'s senile."\r\n\r\n"You\'d better get away. It might chew off your head any minute. I\'ll\r\nbet you that\'s what it is: A \'Chameleon Tiger.\'"\r\n\r\n"When we get the boat fixed, let\'s take him back to--what is it?"\r\n\r\n"YAP-A-90909, Sector WKM."\r\n\r\n"Maybe somebody\'ll hand us a reward. What say, boy?--you, there, with\r\nthe big eyes--what say to going home?" The purple sphere looked at him\r\nwith sad eyes.\r\n\r\n"There any other spheres in there, Ed?"\r\n\r\n"No more purple babies. This must be him. I wish it\'d change into a\r\ngreen cube, so we\'d get positive identification. Tell it to change into\r\na green cube."\r\n\r\n"Hey, boy, can you change into a green cube?" Archie asked. The purple\r\nsphere regarded him sadly. "Ed, throw me that old canteen." The canteen\r\nwas thrown down. "Now look, boy." He carefully drew a circle and a\r\nsquare in the sand. "See this? This is a sphere. That\'s you, get it?"\r\nHe pointed to the circle, then to the purple sphere. "This is a cube,\r\nsee?" He indicated the square. "Now, we want you to change into a cube;\r\nget it? A green cube." The purple sphere blinked its great eyes and\r\ncontinued to stare at Archie sadly.\r\n\r\n"It\'s an idiot," cried Ed Bailey. "Let me shoot it. Maybe we can make a\r\nstew out of it."\r\n\r\n"Leave it alone. We can\'t kill it--not with those big eyes. We ought to\r\ntake it back to earth and slap it in a zoo."\r\n\r\n"We ought to shoot it. Maybe it\'s got some playmates around here.\r\nArchie, you got no business petting big purple balls. Remember what\r\nhappened when you started fooling around with that orange thing back on\r\nLTX-R-76--whatever it was?"\r\n\r\n"He didn\'t have any eyes, Ed. Look at this thing\'s eyes: It couldn\'t\r\nhurt us; it just wants to watch. I think we should--"\r\n\r\nHis words were drowned by a frightful noise and a terrible shock. The\r\nsky went dark.\r\n\r\n"Damn unpleasant sunsets they got around here," yawned Ed nonchalantly.\r\n\r\nArchie picked himself up from the dust. "What sort of a crazy planet\r\nare you muggs running here?" He shook his fist at the purple sphere.\r\n"Hey--hey, Ed--look! It glows in the dark!" The sphere\'s purple fur\r\nemitted rich violet light, and its great eyes shone bright white around\r\ntheir jet black pupils. They looked sadly at Archie. Ed lit a cigarette.\r\n\r\n"So do lots of things. It makes a better target this way. I think we\r\nought to have it for breakfast tomorrow. We got a lot of work to do,\r\nand I\'m sick of beans."\r\n\r\n"You let it alone, Bailey, or I\'ll smash you."\r\n\r\n"I was just kidding. You can keep it." He yawned viciously. "I\'m\r\nturning in. If you want to stick around with Fido all night, hop to it.\r\nI\'m closing this hatch and getting as far away as I can."\r\n\r\nHe threw down his cigarette. "Coming?"\r\n\r\nArchie petted the sphere tenderly, then ambled leisurely to the\r\nship. "Coming. Not that I don\'t trust Melancholy, but there might be\r\nsomething else crawling around out there. Help me up."\r\n\r\nEd held out his arms and assisted his comrade aboard the ruined rocket\r\nship. They shut the hatch behind them.\r\n\r\nAll night the purple sphere glowed in the dark, watching the ship with\r\ngreat, sad, luminescent eyes.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnother frightful noise and its concomitant shock hurled Archie\r\nviolently out of his bunk. "God-awful planet," he muttered as he\r\nclimbed off of Ed Bailey. "How\'s that old song go? \'Where the sun comes\r\nup like thunder from--\'"\r\n\r\n"You got better things to do than sing. Let\'s get going. I\'ll check the\r\nengine and you see if you can\'t fix the radio."\r\n\r\nArchie yawned loudly and opened the escape hatch. "Hey, Ed,\r\nMelancholy\'s still out here!"\r\n\r\n"Fix that radio, damn you!" shouted Ed from the recesses of the ship.\r\n\r\nArchie sat diligently in the open hatchway and tried to fix the radio.\r\nFrequently he addressed comments to the purple sphere and the purple\r\nsphere gazed at him with its sad eyes.\r\n\r\nThe morning passed but the radio did not heal. At eleven o\'clock Archie\r\ngrabbed two hot wires and shouted in anguish. Rising to his feet, he\r\nkicked the radio savagely out the open hatch. It crashed against the\r\nground and slid toward the purple sphere. The purple sphere looked up\r\nat Archie sadly.\r\n\r\nArchie hurled a wrench at it and the purple sphere winced. "Stop\r\nlooking at me like that!" shouted Archie. "Fix it yourself, damn you!"\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere sidled forward and sat on top of the radio. The radio\r\ndisappeared from view.\r\n\r\n"Hey, Ed! Ed!" called Archie. "It just ate our radio!"\r\n\r\nEd hurried up from the back of the ship. "You ass," he said. "Why did\r\nyou let him have it? I should bash your teeth in." He brandished a\r\nhammer threateningly.\r\n\r\n"Let\'s not lose our tempers, Ed," smiled Archie anxiously.\r\n\r\n"Okay. Forget it. We\'ll never get out of here by fighting." He stepped\r\nresolutely into the cabin and returned with an ugly looking steel tube.\r\n"I\'m going to roast Fido right off that radio."\r\n\r\n"Hey, wait a minute, Ed!" Archie held his comrade\'s arm. "--After all,\r\nI gave him the radio. Maybe he thought I\'m trying to make friends."\r\n\r\n"You blockhead! I ought to turn Betsy here on you. What were you up\r\nto--feeling sorry for monstrous there? Okay ... you get the radio back\r\nyour way. Spend all month doing it! Just sit looking into handsome\'s\r\nlimpid pools and maybe she\'ll kiss you and give you back your radio.\r\nDamn \'Chameleon Tiger!\'"\r\n\r\nHe brandished his hammer aloft and returned to the nether regions.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSeveral minutes later the purple sphere sidled backward and the radio\r\nreturned to view. It emitted curious noises. The purple sphere looked\r\nup at Archie sadly.\r\n\r\n"You fixed it!" cried the amazed Simms. "Ed! Ed! Come here! He fixed\r\nit! It works!" Ed returned to stare at the radio in disbelief.\r\n\r\n"Hey, that\'s pretty damn good. What about asking him to fix the rest of\r\nthe ship?"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll try. Hey, Melancholy! Fix up our rocket ship, okay?"\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere sidled forward until it stood directly beneath the\r\nescape hatch. Then it looked up at Archie.\r\n\r\n"It wants to get in," explained Archie. "Do we still have that old ramp\r\nI stole on Mercury?"\r\n\r\n"Right here."\r\n\r\nTogether they lowered the ramp. The purple sphere sidled forward and\r\nvainly attempted to climb upward.\r\n\r\n"He\'s too heavy," said Simms. "We\'ll have to jump down and push him."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t like," said the cautious Bailey. "Then he\'s on and we\'re off.\r\nThat\'s too much like suicide."\r\n\r\n"We can trust him. He fixed the radio, didn\'t he?"\r\n\r\n"All right, wise guy. It\'s your funeral, too." They hopped down and,\r\nstraining mightily, pushed the purple sphere to the top of the ramp.\r\n\r\n"Will he go through the hatch?" cried Ed. "I can\'t see around him."\r\n\r\n"Hope so," panted Archie, "or he\'s going to roll back on top of us.\r\nThere he goes. We made it!"\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere vanished into the ship.\r\n\r\n"What do we do now?" cried the excitable Bailey. "He may curl up and\r\nhibernate in there, for all you know. If he\'s not out in an hour, I\'m\r\ngoing to shoot him!"\r\n\r\nThe odor of hot metal drifted out the emergency hatch. "He\'s schmooling\r\naround in there," said Ed.\r\n\r\n"Leave him alone, Ed. Let\'s look around." Ed grumbled, but followed the\r\nretreating form of Archie Simms. They had strayed over a mile from the\r\nship when the sun blasted out the end of another day.\r\n\r\n"We\'d better head back," said the cautious Bailey, turning around.\r\n\r\n"Okay, but not that way. The ship\'s over there."\r\n\r\n"Nuts, Arch; the ship\'s that way."\r\n\r\n"Who you trying to fool? Don\'t you think I know what way we came?"\r\n\r\n"You fathead," snorted Bailey, gripping his ugly looking steel tube\r\nmore tightly. "I might\'ve known you\'d get us lost! You and your\r\n\'Chameleon Tiger!\' Damn both of you!"\r\n\r\n"Oh, shut up. We aren\'t going to get back by shouting. Let\'s start\r\nwalking your way and see what happens."\r\n\r\nTime passed.\r\n\r\n"Well," admitted the chagrined Ed Bailey, six hours later, "maybe\r\nyou\'re right."\r\n\r\n"We\'re good and lost now," replied Arch. "Probably can\'t even find the\r\nship in the day, now. She\'s down in one of those sand valleys and we\'ve\r\npassed millions of \'em."\r\n\r\n"I wouldn\'t care if you hadn\'t parked that monster inside. Maybe he\'s\r\neating our boat. I saw some metal eating things in the catalogue."\r\n\r\n"Said he\'s carnivorous, Ed."\r\n\r\n"Also said he could change to a cube. Oh, damn the whole stinking mess.\r\nYou and your little friends."\r\n\r\n"Wait till morning. Maybe we\'ll find our way."\r\n\r\n"Oh, sure," said Ed bitterly.\r\n\r\nThe intrepid spacemen sat sadly down on a big stone and gazed up at the\r\nnight sky.\r\n\r\n"Funny constellations," proclaimed Ed angrily.\r\n\r\n"Look there," said Archie, pointing. "Northern lights."\r\n\r\n"Northern lights, hell!" cried Ed. "They don\'t move like that. It\'s\r\nsomething behind that hill--and it\'s coming!" He placed the steel tube\r\nto his shoulder. "I\'ll take ten of \'em with me," he grated.\r\n\r\nA luminescent purple sphere appeared atop the hill.\r\n\r\n"It\'s the marines!" shouted Archie, knocking down the barrel of Ed\'s\r\ngun. "Smell? I can smell it from here--hot metal! It\'s Melancholy, come\r\nto rescue us!"\r\n\r\n"Or to eat us! I\'ll take care of him!"\r\n\r\n"You fool! Give me that!" The two men grappled for possession of the\r\ngun. The purple sphere stopped and watched them sadly. Finally Archie\r\nobtained the weapon and angrily tore it apart. He threw the parts as\r\nfar as he could, then turned furiously on Ed.\r\n\r\n"Mel here\'s our only friend in the world. He hasn\'t tricked us yet and\r\nwe\'ve got to lay all our dough on him. Now get up." Ed rose groggily\r\nto his feet. "Take us back to the ship," Archie commanded the purple\r\nsphere. The purple sphere sidled off and they followed it.\r\n\r\nDawn literally broke as they topped a rise and looked down once again\r\non the rocket ship. The polished fuselage, so grotesquely twisted the\r\nday before, was now smooth. The ship rested on the side of the hill,\r\nher prow aimed at the sky.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll be damned," snorted Ed Bailey. "He\'s done it. Let\'s get out of\r\nhere quick."\r\n\r\n"See if it works."\r\n\r\nThey climbed aboard. Before he shut the emergency hatch, Archie looked\r\ndown into the sad eyes of the purple sphere. The purple sphere had\r\nnever looked sadder, he decided. Then he shut the hatch.\r\n\r\n"D\'you think maybe he\'s booby-trapped it to explode in the air?"\r\nwondered the suspicious Bailey.\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"Well, here\'s nothing. Hold on." Bailey pressed a button. There\r\nfollowed a dull roar, a blinding flash of light, and the little rocket\r\nship whirled up into the sky.\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere looked after it sadly. A large crystal tear welled up\r\nin each of his great, unhappy eyes and trickled slowly down his purple\r\nfur.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"The little punk didn\'t cross us after all," admitted Ed Bailey\r\ngrudgingly, turning momentarily from the controls.\r\n\r\n"This is enough. It\'s in better shape than when we bought it,"\r\ntestified Archie.\r\n\r\n"Okay. Set a course out of this Sector, and we\'ll hit the road."\r\n\r\n"Wait a second: We\'ve got to go back there and thank Melancholy."\r\n\r\n"WHAT did you say? THANK it? Why? It won\'t understand. It\'ll just stand\r\nthere with those idiotic eyes and moon at you."\r\n\r\n"If it\'s smart enough to fix our ship, it\'s worth thanking," proclaimed\r\nArchie.\r\n\r\n"Well," grumbled Ed, "maybe you\'re right. We\'d still be rotting here if\r\nit weren\'t for Fido."\r\n\r\n"Maybe we can even take him aboard and lug him back to YAP, or wherever\r\nhe\'s from. He must be awful lonely here."\r\n\r\n"Over my dead body. He\'d take too much weight. And I don\'t want to\r\nget mixed up with any more Chameleon Tigers. They might not all have\r\nsuch nice, sad eyes. If we bring Fido on here, we drop him off at the\r\nnearest zoo. I won\'t go near YAP. One Fido\'s enough."\r\n\r\n"We ought to do something for him, Ed."\r\n\r\n"Thanking him\'s too much. I\'m not going to cart purple spheres around\r\nthe galaxy. We\'d be the laughing stock of the century. He stays here!"\r\n\r\nHe punched a button fiercely and swung the ship into a sharp curve.\r\n"Where\'ll we set? This place all looks the same."\r\n\r\n"Just put her down," advised Arch. "I\'ll bet Melancholy gets there in\r\nten minutes."\r\n\r\n"How much?"\r\n\r\n"Fifty."\r\n\r\n"You\'re on." The ship whirled down from the sky and slid along the\r\nsand. Archie opened the escape hatch and waited. Five minutes later the\r\npurple sphere mounted a nearby rise and sidled down into the valley. It\r\nhalted fifty feet from the ship and watched Archie with sad eyes.\r\n\r\n"You lose, Ed," announced Archie.\r\n\r\n"Damn monster," snorted Ed. "Thank it and let\'s get out of here."\r\n\r\n"Aren\'t you going to thank it?"\r\n\r\n"No, damn it! Me thank a big purple ball? You can thank it for both\r\nof us. Might try kicking it a few times and see whether you get any\r\nreaction."\r\n\r\nArchie leaped down on the sand and hurried to the side of the purple\r\nsphere. The purple sphere looked at him sadly. Archie petted it between\r\nand beneath its eyes. Suddenly he stood up.\r\n\r\n"Hey Ed! It\'s been crying!"\r\n\r\nEd snorted angrily but said nothing. "No, really, Ed! It\'s all wet\r\nunder its eyes, here!" He petted it the more tenderly. The purple\r\nsphere looked at him sadly.\r\n\r\n"Come on," yelled Ed. "I\'m sick of this mush."\r\n\r\n"Just a second," replied Archie. "Well--good-bye," he said to the\r\npurple sphere. "I don\'t know whether you get me. Do you know what I\'m\r\nsaying? No. Thanks anyway." He petted the purple sphere between its\r\ngreat eyes; the eyes watched him sadly. He cursed softly, then turned\r\non his heel and hurried toward the rocket ship. Suddenly he pivoted\r\nagain and said to the purple sphere:\r\n\r\n"You maybe saved our lives, Mel. Anything we can do for you? Any place\r\nwe can take you? Say the word and we\'ll do it."\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere looked at Archie sadly. Then it sidled rapidly\r\nforward, knocked Archie unceremoniously off his feet, and climbed on\r\ntop of him. Archie shrieked: "Hey! Ouch! Get off! Stop him, Ed! Stop\r\nhim! He\'s hurting me something aw--" His voice became muffled and\r\nstopped. Ed stood petrified while Archie slowly disappeared into the\r\npurple sphere. All the while, the purple sphere looked up at Ed out of\r\nsad eyes.\r\n\r\nThen Archie was gone. Ed swore a terrible oath and possessed himself\r\nof another ugly looking steel tube. He leveled it to his shoulder and\r\npushed a button. A terrible gaping crack appeared in one of the purple\r\nsphere\'s eyes and a green ichor trickled thickly out. The purple sphere\r\nrolled over and sidled away at an incredible speed. Ed fired again. He\r\nmissed.\r\n\r\n"Damn purple punk," he yelled after the retreating purple sphere. "I\'ll\r\nget you yet. I\'ll get you!"\r\n\r\nHe slammed the emergency hatch and leaped into the pilot\'s seat. He\r\njockeyed the little rocket ship into the air above the strange planet.\r\nMiles away, he saw the purple sphere bowling hastily over the sand. He\r\ngained on it steadily, following as rapidly as he could. Shortly he was\r\nclose enough: He sighted in an eyepiece mounted with crosshairs and saw\r\nthere a greatly enlarged image of the speeding purple sphere. He threw\r\nan ugly looking steel lever. The ship rocked violently and a cloud of\r\ndust rose from the spot where the purple sphere should have been.\r\n\r\n"Stand still, damn you!" shouted Ed. Again he lined the purple sphere\r\nup in the crosshairs. Again he pressed the button, and again the purple\r\nsphere swerved aside in time. Ed pounded his fist desperately on the\r\ninstrument panel.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll kill you," he shouted; "I\'ll kill you! I\'ll kill you if it takes\r\na year--and if I don\'t have you then, I\'ll come back with the whole\r\ndamned fleet and kill you!" He threw the lever again, and again, and\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n _Mr. Bailey has wounded me in the eye, Mr. Simms._\r\n\r\n _I am sorry that I hurt you, Mr. Simms, but it was the only\r\n way ... I have understood everything that you and Mr. Bailey have\r\n thought and said, Mr. Simms, but I cannot impress my thoughts upon\r\n you until I have taken you inside me. I am sorry that it was so\r\n painful for you when I brought you inside me; I am sorry that you\r\n are unconscious; but you can understand me, now. I did not wish to\r\n hurt you, but you were so large that I had difficulty bringing you\r\n inside me._\r\n\r\n _Mr. Bailey is chasing me in the rocket ship, Mr. Simms. He is\r\n shooting at me with a terrible weapon. I know what he is thinking,\r\n so I am able to change my direction before he fires. But shortly I\r\n shall grow tired, Mr. Simms; I would not grow tired had Mr. Bailey\r\n not wounded me in the eye; but he has wounded me in the eye and I\r\n am bleeding. I must tell you what I must tell you quickly, Mr.\r\n Simms, so that you will stop Mr. Bailey from shooting at me._\r\n\r\n _I only tried to help you, Mr. Simms. I did not wish to hurt you. I\r\n saw you throw your radio away and I knew that you desired me to\r\n repair it. I repaired it; subsequently I repaired your vessel. When\r\n you and Mr. Bailey lost your way in the hills, I came to find you\r\n and I led you back to the ship. I have only tried to help you; I\r\n did not wish to hurt you._\r\n\r\n _Mr. Bailey thinks that I have eaten you and is trying to destroy\r\n me. I must explain things to you, so that you can prevent him from\r\n destroying me._\r\n\r\n _I only wanted to help you and Mr. Bailey. I know how much you need\r\n help and I wanted to help you, because you were kind to me. I did\r\n not expect a reward; I thought merely that I would help you and\r\n that then you would leave me. At last you and Mr. Bailey climbed\r\n into your ship and left. I cried, for I had wanted to tell you\r\n about myself. But I could not tell you without hurting you and\r\n bringing you inside me. I did not wish to hurt you, and I knew that\r\n if I brought you inside me, Mr. Bailey would not understand. I\r\n would not bring Mr. Bailey inside me because he does not like me._\r\n\r\n _But you returned, and I thought that perhaps I had not repaired\r\n your ship effectively. No; I discovered that you wished to thank\r\n me for my aid. I did not expect that you would thank me; I expected\r\n that you would depart without thanking me. Why should you thank me?\r\n You did not think that I would understand. But you thanked me and\r\n then you asked me whether you could do anything for me. I saw in\r\n your mind that you were sincere: You did not only say that you\r\n wished to do something for me; you wished to do something for me.\r\n So I took you inside me, and Mr. Bailey has wounded me in the eye,\r\n and now he is following me in your rocket ship, and he is shooting\r\n at me._\r\n\r\n _You can help me, Mr. Simms. I shall tell you how you can help me\r\n and then I shall let you out._\r\n\r\n _I have lived on this planet for millions of years, Mr. Simms. In\r\n all that time I have been alone. No one had ever visited me until\r\n you came. There is no other life on this planet and I have been all\r\n alone. At times it has been more than I can bear. At times I have\r\n wished to destroy myself. But I cannot do that and I must not, for\r\n my people need me._\r\n\r\n _Many millions of years ago I lived with my people on a large\r\n planet that revolved about a large star in a galaxy that is very\r\n distant now._\r\n\r\n _I am not of this galaxy, Mr. Simms._\r\n\r\n _I was the wisest among my people. They called me the Purple Sage.\r\n I was versed in all wisdom and I knew all answers. The people came\r\n to me for knowledge and revered me as the wisest of all beings._\r\n\r\n _Several million years ago our galaxy approached your galaxy. Your\r\n galaxy was very different then; I watched it change, these millions\r\n of years. Our galaxy approached and I perceived that the two\r\n galaxies would pass through each other._\r\n\r\n _This is a rare phenomenon, Mr. Simms, but it was undoubtedly known\r\n to your astronomers many years ago. Galaxies are nothing more than\r\n enormous vacuums, and in any one passage of two galaxies through\r\n one another, there are likely to be not more than two or three\r\n stellar collisions._\r\n\r\n _I determined that my planet was quite safe. As your galaxy\r\n approached, I determined to conduct an interesting experiment. I\r\n constructed a large space ship and planned to fly it to one of the\r\n planets of your galaxy. Then I would return to my own planet. I\r\n hoped to determine whether your galaxy was similar to mine._\r\n\r\n _My people wept at my departure and asked me what would become of\r\n them if I did not return. I told them that the officials would\r\n care for them. I thought then that I was little more than an\r\n ornament and their grief more rhetorical than sincere._\r\n\r\n _A bright star was due to pass close to our sun; I entered my space\r\n ship and steered toward it. I landed on this planet._\r\n\r\n _This is a curious planet, Mr. Simms. You have noticed the\r\n phenomenon of the sunset. The surface of the planet expands and\r\n contracts all at once, rather than doing so by slow degrees. As a\r\n result, the sun rises and sets instantly. When I arrived in my\r\n space ship, the phenomenon was much more exaggerated. I emerged\r\n from my ship and walked about the planet. I did not expect the\r\n contraction which came at sunset. It was terrible: I was thrown\r\n against a jagged pinnacle of rock and severely injured. For many\r\n centuries I could not move. Slowly I recovered. I returned to my\r\n ship. In the course of many such sunsets, it had been shattered to\r\n atoms. The delicate instruments had been ruined. I worked many\r\n years on the ship, but I could do nothing to repair it. At last I\r\n abandoned the task._\r\n\r\n _Nothing is left of it now. Millions of years have passed and its\r\n dust is mingled with the dust of this planet._\r\n\r\n _I watched my people recede from me. When I lay next to the jagged\r\n pinnacle that had wounded me, I could still see my planet in the\r\n sky. By the time that I was well, I could discern my sun from the\r\n other stars only with difficulty._\r\n\r\n _The years have passed slowly and now my galaxy is a point of light\r\n that I can no longer resolve in the distance._\r\n\r\n _I am growing tired, Mr. Simms, and Mr. Bailey still follows me. He\r\n shoots at me no longer, but he understands that I must rest. I\r\n shall complete my tale as rapidly as I can._\r\n\r\n _I waited milleniums, but no one came. Without my aid, my people\r\n could never have built a space ship with which to rescue me. I did\r\n not have the materials. I waited alone, confident at some times\r\n that help would come, confident at most that I would remain here\r\n forever ... alone._\r\n\r\n _Then you came, Mr. Simms. I saw immediately that your ship was\r\n damaged and I knew that it was not damaged badly. I wished to save\r\n you from my fate. I wished to repair your ship; I did not dare\r\n attempt to repair it, however; you would have thought that I was\r\n trying to hurt you and you would have destroyed me. I could only\r\n wait until a suitable opportunity presented itself._\r\n\r\n _You were very kind, Mr. Simms. You petted me between my eyes. The\r\n contact of your hand, the first contact with a living being in\r\n millions of years, drove me to distraction. I almost brought you\r\n inside me then and there, but I restrained myself. I knew that Mr.\r\n Bailey would not understand and would destroy me._\r\n\r\n _Now you have told me that you wish to help me. Mr. Simms, I wish\r\n to return to my own people. In the course of these years of exile,\r\n I have thought many thoughts that will be useful to them. And who\r\n was there to instruct them, after my departure? I wish to return\r\n to my people, Mr. Simms._\r\n\r\n _I believe that you and Mr. Bailey could return me in safety. It\r\n would require several major alterations in the design of your ship,\r\n but I have thought about such alterations for many years and I am\r\n confident that they can be made._\r\n\r\n _I do not think that you would regret the voyage. You would be\r\n feted at great length; there would be a splendid celebration in the\r\n hippodrome and you and Mr. Bailey would be seated in chairs of\r\n state. You would find it difficult to leave us. Nor would you go\r\n unrewarded in larger coin: I would inform you of the cures to any\r\n diseases that may still plague your people and I would give you\r\n the answers to many of their ills._\r\n\r\n _I would promise your safe return; we would build a great ship for\r\n you; it would be a time machine as well as a space craft and would\r\n return you to your planet no earlier or later than you might\r\n choose. There would be another magnificent celebration to bid you\r\n farewell. No, Mr. Simms, you would not regret returning me to my\r\n people._\r\n\r\n _But let us look at the other side of the matter: It is quite\r\n possible that I shall fail. It is quite possible that we would all\r\n be destroyed in the starless vastnesses of space. I can offer you\r\n no proof of my competence except your repaired radio and your\r\n repaired vessel. And those were simple tasks._\r\n\r\n _I am very tired, Mr. Simms. I can run no longer. I must let you\r\n out. Tell Mr. Bailey what I have told you. I pray that you may\r\n decide to help me. I pray, but I do not hope. I am sorry that I\r\n hurt you; please forgive me for hurting you, if you do nothing\r\n else._\r\n\r\n _When I see Mr. Bailey descend and talk to you, I shall cease\r\n running. I shall remain where I ceased running. You and Mr. Bailey\r\n will decide what you must do. If you will not help me, then I must\r\n ask one other favor: Fly to where I am sitting and shoot your\r\n weapon at me. I shall not move. I believe that it is capable of\r\n destroying me._\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEd Bailey pressed the button again and the purple sphere swerved aside.\r\n"Lousy purple punk," he shouted.\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere stopped in its tracks and the rocket shot past it. Ed\r\nswore and swung about. He looked down. A man\'s body lay stretched on\r\nthe sand and the purple sphere hurried away.\r\n\r\nEd dropped down and rushed to the side of the prostrate figure.\r\n\r\n"I made it drop you," he sobbed over the body, "I made it drop you. My\r\nGod!--you look half-digested!" He felt Archie Simms\' body. "Your arm\'s\r\nbroke!"\r\n\r\nArchie\'s lips moved feverishly. "Got to--got to help it--or kill it,"\r\nhe groaned.\r\n\r\n"Come on," said Ed. He lifted the wounded man to his shoulders. "You\'re\r\nokay now. Don\'t talk. I\'ll get you aboard."\r\n\r\n"It saved us--got to help it--or kill it."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll make hash of it," said Ed, placing Archie on his bunk. He\r\nprocured a hypodermic needle from a wall cabinet. "Sorry, Arch, I\'m\r\nputting you under till we get back. I can\'t help you. See you in a\r\nmonth." He plunged the needle into Archie\'s arm.\r\n\r\n"Got to--help it ... or kill it," sobbed Archie weakly. "Got to ...\r\nhelp ... it...." He slept.\r\n\r\nEd slipped behind the controls of the rocket. He pressed a button and\r\nthe little boat whirled up into the sky. It vanished rapidly into the\r\nempty distances.\r\n\r\nOn a distant hilltop sat the purple sphere. He followed the path of the\r\nretreating rocket with sad eyes. He waited for many hours. The sun set\r\nand he glowed dimly against the stars. He watched the stars sadly. Then\r\nhe cried.\r\n\r\nHe cried for seven days and seven nights.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEight years passed.\r\n\r\nThe rocket whirled down from the sky and crashed into the hillside.\r\nA cloud of dust rose lazily from the spot and mingled with the fumes\r\nescaping from the vessel.\r\n\r\nStraightway the escape hatch opened and Archie Simms jumped down to the\r\nsurface of the planet.\r\n\r\n"Here he is, Ed!" he shouted back into the ship. Ed\'s face appeared in\r\nthe doorway.\r\n\r\n"Fido," he remarked pleasantly.\r\n\r\n"We\'ve come," said Archie. "It\'s been a long drag, but we made it."\r\n\r\nThe purple sphere\'s left eye was black and swollen.\r\n\r\n"Sorry I shot you," said Ed. "I didn\'t know...." The purple sphere\r\nlooked sadly up at him. Archie petted it between the eyes and pointed\r\nto the ship.\r\n\r\n"There she is," he said. "All yours. Take care of her."\r\n\r\nEd eased down the ramp, then hopped to the ground. He and Archie pushed\r\nthe purple sphere into the ship.\r\n\r\nArchie nudged his partner gently. "Look, Ed, he\'s smiling!"\r\n\r\n"Lousy purple punk," snorted Ed. "You know we won\'t get out of this\r\nmess alive, Simms. Lousy purple punk...."\r\n\r\n"Oh, let\'s have lunch."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PURPLE PARIAH ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Beware, the Usurpers!'

'Krepps, Robert W.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Beware, the Usurpers!\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Beware, the Usurpers!\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Robert W. Krepps\r\n\r\nRelease date: May 24, 2021 [eBook #65437]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEWARE, THE USURPERS! ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n BEWARE, THE USURPERS!\r\n\r\n by GEOFF ST. REYNARD\r\n\r\n Have you ever seen monsters stalking the\r\n streets? Only if you\'re drunk, you say?--Don\'t\r\n laugh--_your best friend could be one of them!..._\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n November 1951\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nI stopped the black Jaguar beside the crumbling stone balustrade\r\nand swung my legs out. The drive was deep in rotted leaves and\r\nlong-uncleared trash. Above me the ancient castle looked out across\r\nthe groves of oak and elm and chestnut to the silent moors, like\r\nthe veritable ghost of Old England itself: aloof, brooding, noble,\r\nwithdrawn from this hectic modern age into its memories. Blind blank\r\nholes of windows stared over my head as I walked up the drive where in\r\na more regal century the carriages of dukes and knights and princes\r\nof the blood must have rolled, the big horses of neighboring squires\r\nmust have pawed impatiently before many a hunt, and lovers in satin and\r\nvelvet and cascading lace must have strolled and dallied a thousand\r\nthousand times.\r\n\r\nAs I was hauling open the heavy iron-banded door, my foot trod upon\r\nsomething that squashed unpleasantly. I bent down, and in the sick\r\nyellow moonlight saw a newly-dead rook, its eyes already pecked out. I\r\nshivered, uncontrollably. Then I went in and pulled the door shut.\r\n\r\nMy electric torch stabbing the darkness before me, I crossed the\r\nempty hall and mounted the broad curving stairs. At the top I turned\r\nand glanced downward; the great hall was patterned with moonlight,\r\nand although there was no furniture of any sort, the whole vast place\r\nseemed to crawl and pulse with shapes of menace, of dead-yet-living\r\nevil. I shook myself angrily. My nerves were rotten, my mind was\r\nbursting with fear. That was the whole trouble--fear, fear and nerves.\r\nThe only thing to do was act quickly.\r\n\r\nI strode down the dank passageway, opened the third door on the left,\r\nwent into the room and shut the door behind me.\r\n\r\nHere the old stone walls were ashine with lights, the air was less\r\nmusty and far less creepy. Six people were here, standing about or\r\nsitting on straight-backed chairs. They all turned to look at me.\r\nNobody spoke. I nodded to each in turn.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was an old army officer, leathered and permanently tanned by\r\ndecades of the dreadful Indian sun; he wore a short grizzled mustache\r\nand a stern, rather stuffy expression. There was a man of about fifty\r\nwho could not have been anything but a physician, so scrubbed and\r\ncompetent he seemed. There was a youngish fellow with only one arm, and\r\nanother whose dark glasses sheltered sightless scar-pitted hollows.\r\nThere was an antique of a man, poker-thin and poker-straight and\r\npoker-hard, with a pale face and keen, faded blue eyes. And there was\r\na girl, who had sometimes been described as a summer sky, as a star,\r\nand as other things just as lovely and unbelievable.\r\n\r\n"What ho," I said, with empty cheerfulness. "Sorry to be late. Let\'s\r\nget at it."\r\n\r\n"Will," said the doctor abruptly, "I forbid it. It\'s madness, it\'s\r\ncriminal lunacy."\r\n\r\n"Sorry you feel that way, John. We\'ve gone too far to stop here--and\r\nwe\'ve been all through this a hundred times." I went to the table and\r\nsat down briskly in the vacant chair beside it. Truth to tell, every\r\nmuscle in my body was rebelling, was shrieking to me that John Baringer\r\nwas right; only my mind still insisted that he was wrong, and I knew\r\nthat if I dallied for an instant my body would conquer my brain....\r\n\r\nI fitted my head snugly against the curious apparatus we had attached\r\nto the back of the chair. It was constructed along the lines of an\r\nold-fashioned photographer\'s head clamp. To the table were nailed a\r\nnumber of steel braces, which held a Tower musket, an obsolete firearm\r\nprimed with black powder and aimed rigidly so that the load would\r\npass within a hair\'s breadth of my eyes as I sat with my head pressed\r\nagainst the clamp. The musket was already cocked. "Let \'er go," I said,\r\nand felt glad that my voice had not cracked into falsetto.\r\n\r\n"No!" said John Baringer. "No!"\r\n\r\nNone of them moved.\r\n\r\n"Have I got to do it myself?" I asked, rather angrily.\r\n\r\nThe retired officer pushed the doctor aside, took two steps forward and\r\nlaid his hand on the musket. "Ready?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"I am."\r\n\r\n"Hold hard," he said, and pulled the trigger.\r\n\r\nThe world seemed to lift up into the air all at once, its foundations\r\ntearing apart with a noise like all hell bursting in half; then it\r\nslowly toppled down again, and everything was blackness and hot,\r\nsearing death.\r\n\r\nThe last thing I remember was the scream of the beautiful girl, she who\r\nwas as lovely as a summer sky.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER II\r\n\r\n\r\nI lay in the warm bed and for a long time I tried to think of something\r\nthat I knew I should recall, and at last, after hours of waking and\r\ndozing and waking again, I had it; it was the fact that I was not\r\ndead. When I knew this for certain I was extremely surprised, in the\r\nweak fashion of the very ill. I slept once more, and when I woke again\r\nI was stronger and more in command of my mind. I was still a little\r\nastonished that I was alive. Then I began to wonder whether I was\r\nblind. The knowledge that I would not know about this for some days was\r\nintolerable. I yelled angrily, and a cool hand was laid across my lips.\r\n\r\n"Gently, Will, gently," said the loveliest voice in England.\r\n\r\nThen I knew that I could bear the uncertainty till doomsday, if I must.\r\n\r\n"Hello, Marion," I said, brushing the hand with my dry lips. "What time\r\nis it?"\r\n\r\n"Middle of the afternoon, Will. You\'ve been asleep a long while. It\'s\r\nTuesday."\r\n\r\n"Tuesday. Good Lord, nearly forty-eight hours!"\r\n\r\n"Do your eyes hurt?"\r\n\r\n"Not much."\r\n\r\n"Thank John for that."\r\n\r\n"Where is he?"\r\n\r\n"Here," said the physician\'s voice. "We\'re all here but the Colonel."\r\n\r\n"He\'s in London," said Marion Black, "buying supplies."\r\n\r\n"Is Johnson here?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," said the respectful voice of the pale-faced old man. "Very\r\nmuch at sea, if you\'ll allow me, Mister Chester."\r\n\r\n"They haven\'t told you, Johnson?" I asked incredulously. "You must\r\nthink us all mad!"\r\n\r\n"No, sir," said he promptly, "I give you my word I don\'t, sir. Had it\r\nbeen one or two of you, why then I might fancy you\'d gone off your\r\nrespective rockers, as you might say, sir; but six of you--that\'s\r\ndifferent."\r\n\r\n"What do you think, then, Johnson?"\r\n\r\n"I think there\'s something big going on, sir," said the old man.\r\n"Something fearfully big. With poor young Mister Exeter blind, and you\r\na-lying here like this--what _is_ it, sir? They told me you were the\r\nproper one to explain."\r\n\r\n"Johnson," I said, grinning, "that\'s the first time I ever heard your\r\nvoice express anything but well-bred deference."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nJohnson coughed and, I imagine, looked at the floor with embarrassment.\r\n"Very strange circumstances, sir," he said.\r\n\r\n"I shan\'t keep you in suspense, Johnson, although these callous people\r\nhave. Are you prepared to hear a nightmare of a yarn?"\r\n\r\n"Are you prepared to tell it?" growled John Baringer.\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes. I seem to have had a good bit of rest lately." I drank from a\r\nglass that Marion put to my mouth, and said, "You remember Jerry Wolfe?"\r\n\r\n"Of course, sir."\r\n\r\n"You were there the day he came back to the Gloucester Club and was\r\nmurdered, weren\'t you?" I knew he had been, but I was feeling my way\r\ninto the story.\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. I brought him and Mister Talbot here a bottle of Scotch. I\r\nsaw him killed."\r\n\r\n"He told Alec--" Alec Talbot was the chap with one arm; he\'d left the\r\nother in Europe somewhere, during the latter days of the war--"he told\r\nAlec a tale that day, Johnson. It\'s a wild, incredible, super-fantastic\r\ntale. No sane man would believe a word of it."\r\n\r\n"No, sir."\r\n\r\n"But we six believe it, Johnson."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. I gather it has something to do with this--"\r\n\r\n"This madness of ours. It does. You see, Jerry Wolfe was nearly blinded\r\nin India when a Tower musket was discharged athwart his eyes. The\r\nbandages were removed as he was coming home, and he found he could\r\nsee ... could see rather more than most of us can."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," said the dignified voice. "May I ask what he could see,\r\nsir?"\r\n\r\n"He could see into Hell," said Alec Talbot quietly.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"He could see that certain people are not--people," I went on. "Let\r\nme try to explain that. He discovered that there are among us many\r\naliens of another race, perhaps from another dimension, or from\r\nanother planet, or--who knows? He thought they were out of a different\r\ndimension, because he could see silvery lines behind them which he\r\nbelieved to be that dimension\'s scenery, as it were. Each of these\r\naliens, these usurpers, as he called them, had stolen a human body, and\r\nwas using it as a focal point of entrance into our world. Do you follow\r\nme?"\r\n\r\n"With some difficulty, sir."\r\n\r\n"Drop the \'sir\', Johnson. We\'re all plain human beings together in\r\nthis."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"Well, he could see these alien creatures, but within them, or\r\nbehind them, he could also see the human bodies they were occupying;\r\nthe bodies which to everyone else appeared to be quite normal men\r\nand women. The bodies apparently didn\'t contain a human soul or\r\nmind or whatever you want to call it, but were only puppets for the\r\ninterlopers. He sat in Charing Cross Station and made notes on them,\r\nat one stage of his adventures, and he decided that they were entering\r\nthis world by usurping the bodies of newly-born children, children of\r\nunions between two of them or between one of them and a regular human.\r\nSee?"\r\n\r\n"Vaguely, sir."\r\n\r\n"He figured out that after a few of them got into our dimension,\r\nthrough some fluke or other, they found that they could spawn\r\npuppet-humans who would become vehicles for others of their breed. They\r\ncome \'in\' by route of birth. Perhaps, Jerry thought, a freak accident\r\ngenerations ago let just one of them into our world, and he put his\r\nfoot in the door. Now there are multitudes of them here. What was the\r\nratio Jerry calculated, Alec?"\r\n\r\n"About seven to six in our favor," said Alec Talbot. "Of course, that\r\nwas figured within an hour or so at Charing Cross Station. He didn\'t\r\nhave a chance to make a real survey. They got him first."\r\n\r\n"Yes, they got him. He was so shocked by his discovery that he didn\'t\r\ncover up fast enough, and they found out he could see them. They\r\nharried him all over half of England, and finally they tracked him\r\ndown at the club and shot his guts out."\r\n\r\n"He died in my arms," said Alec without expression.\r\n\r\n"But Mister Wolfe was shot by men from Scotland Yard and bobbies, sir,"\r\nprotested Johnson.\r\n\r\n"That\'s what they seemed to be, Johnson, to you. Jerry could see them\r\ntruly. He knew they were the usurpers, using the husks of human beings\r\nas points of contact between our dimension and theirs."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nJohnson coughed politely. "And this is the story he told Mister Talbot?"\r\n\r\n"It is."\r\n\r\n"And you all believe it?"\r\n\r\n"We do. Partly because it tallies up with a lot of queer things, partly\r\nbecause it explains a lot of others. But mainly because we all knew\r\nJerry Wolfe, and he was as sane and decent a fellow as ever breathed\r\ntobacco smoke."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"He couldn\'t see all of their dimension, you understand. It was only\r\nwhere one of them had taken over a human body that the veil was thin\r\nenough to be pierced by his blast-warped sight. There was a sort\r\nof field of force or something around them, and he could see the\r\nbeasts and their nearby background of silver lines that ran at an\r\nangle of about forty-five degrees. That was all. He killed the human\r\nparts of three or four of them, and although he couldn\'t touch the\r\nother-dimensional folk with his bullets, when their human puppets\r\ndied they were relegated to their own world again. They faded out and\r\nvanished, he said. Their point of contact was obliterated."\r\n\r\n"I see, sir. I begin to get the picture. These foreigners--" I could\r\nnot help smiling at the word--"have been infiltrating our island by\r\nsome means, using our bodies, you might say, as disguises. A dirty bit\r\nof business, sir, if I may say so."\r\n\r\n"Very dirty, Johnson. Because if nothing is done to stop them,\r\neventually they\'ll have our whole world to themselves."\r\n\r\nJohnson evidently thought this over for a moment. I could hear everyone\r\nbreathing heavily in the silence. Then, "What do they want with it,\r\nsir?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Lord knows. Jerry never asked \'em."\r\n\r\n"Ah. It gives one pause, sir."\r\n\r\n"It damned well does. It\'s given us so much pause--the six of us--that\r\nwe\'ve decided to devote our lives to fighting the usurpers. That\'s why\r\nwe\'re doing this huggermugger business, Johnson. We\'re duplicating\r\nJerry Wolfe\'s experience, trying to get our eyesight warped or marred\r\nor shifted, or whatever the phrase ought to be, as his was. So we\r\ncan see \'em, and combat \'em, and send \'em home to their silver-lined\r\nwastelands."\r\n\r\n"And that\'s what happened--"\r\n\r\n"To Geoff Exeter. Yes. We did the same thing with him that you saw\r\ntwo nights ago with me in the chair. Unfortunately--there\'s a feeble\r\nword!--we bungled somehow. And Geoff is blind."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"You get used to it," said Geoff Exeter cheerfully. "It\'s in a good\r\ncause. Better cause than we fought the Nazis for if Jerry Wolfe was\r\nright."\r\n\r\n"We\'re banking that he was. We\'re betting our eyes or our lives,\r\nJohnson, that he was right."\r\n\r\n"If you\'ll forgive me, sir, it seems a terribly long chance to take. He\r\nmight have been addled in the head, or drunk; or if he was right, you\r\nmay all lose your eyes and never acquire his strange vision."\r\n\r\n"We\'re relying on old Jerry," said Alec Talbot. "You see, at least\r\nthree of us were at loose ends, with nothing to make of our lives, and\r\nour hearts full of bitterness and frustration. It\'s given us an aim in\r\nlife. It\'s given us life itself, by heaven! We drew lots, Geoff and\r\nWill and I; Geoff got first try, Will the second, and I lost. I\'m to be\r\nthe third one. Before he was murdered, Jerry told me who was all right\r\nand who wasn\'t. He\'d seen a few chaps he knew--Will and Geoff and the\r\ndoctor here, Marion and Colonel Bedford. He bequeathed me their names.\r\nI rounded them up and beat them with Jerry\'s yarn until they began to\r\nfeel a horrid truth in it. Then just a few days ago I remembered that\r\nyou\'d been our waiter at the Club that night, and he\'d sat easy and\r\nsafe in your presence; so we knew you were human too."\r\n\r\n"I\'m sure I\'m very gratified, sir. But what can I do?"\r\n\r\n"We don\'t know. We don\'t know what any of us can do. But we were only\r\nsix. Johnson--six against half a world. We grasped at you like a\r\ndrowning man at a--"\r\n\r\n"Straw," said Marion. "Really, Alec, your similes stun me!"\r\n\r\n"I was going to say \'bottle of whisky\'," growled Alec.\r\n\r\n"Do you get the whole picture now, Johnson?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"I think so, sir. Just one thing...."\r\n\r\n"What\'s that?"\r\n\r\n"Well, sir, what do these aliens look like? I mean, if you can see\r\nthem?"\r\n\r\n"Like obscene nightmares," I said. "Like demons down under the sea.\r\nLike anything and everything you can conjure up that\'s evil and strange\r\nand full of hellishness."\r\n\r\n"Oh. Quite so, sir," said Johnson woodenly.\r\n\r\n"Jerry talked of toads, of sharks and dragons, weird tree-shapes\r\nand amoebae, but he made it clear that those were only far-fetched\r\nsimiles." Alec\'s voice was low; he was remembering his friend, haggard\r\nand gray in the face, a ghastly ghost of the man he had once been. I\r\nbroke in.\r\n\r\n"Yes, Johnson, they\'re a fearful horde. If Jerry was right, they\'re\r\noverrunning us in a manner far more subtle and deadly than any invader\r\never did before. Which is why we must take these desperate measures.\r\nAre you with us?"\r\n\r\n"Of course, sir," said the old waiter.\r\n\r\n"Why?" asked the skeptical Doctor Baringer. "Why so quick to leap at\r\nthis fantastic story, Johnson? I\'ve got into the affair over my head,\r\nbut I\'m still not sure I believe in it."\r\n\r\n"Well, sir, you might say I\'m in just about the same position as Mister\r\nExeter and Mister Talbot and Mister Chester. I\'m an old soldier, much\r\ntoo old to be of any use in a regular war any longer; and I still fret\r\nfor the days of bivouac and battle. If you\'ll pardon the liberty, sir,\r\nI must agree with you that it\'s a rum go, a very rum go. But if it\'s\r\ntrue, then I may be of some slight use in the world after all."\r\n\r\n"You were a soldier, Johnson?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"Sergeant, Boer War, sir. I fought at the siege of Ladysmith and a\r\ndozen other engagements."\r\n\r\n"I thought the Boer War was a million years ago," said Marion Black.\r\n\r\n"Very nearly, miss," said Johnson with a dry chuckle.\r\n\r\n"Welcome to the ranks, Sergeant Johnson," said Alec Talbot.\r\n\r\nI started to say something, but suddenly was very weary, so instead I\r\nwent to sleep.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER III\r\n\r\n\r\nTen days later they took off the bandages. The doctor had changed them\r\nand examined my eyes a number of times, but always in what was to me\r\ntotal darkness; I believe he used some sort of queer light, infra-red\r\nor black or what-have-you. I\'m not up on these medical and scientific\r\ngadgets.\r\n\r\nThe last layer of gauze came off. Nothing happened. The world to me was\r\nall a pinkish-red blurring.\r\n\r\n"I can\'t see," I said. "John! I can\'t see!"\r\n\r\n"Neither can I when my eyes are closed," said Marion, with a nervous\r\nchoked laugh.\r\n\r\nSo I opened my eyes.\r\n\r\nI saw a tall straight old man, a one-armed chap, a young fellow in\r\ndark glasses, a rather stuffy-looking retired colonel, a middle-aged\r\nphysician with a worried face, and a girl as radiant as a spring\r\nmorning.\r\n\r\n"Greetings," I said unsteadily. "Greetings, little army. Don\'t look so\r\nscared."\r\n\r\nAlec Talbot grinned and Marion gulped with relief, Colonel Bedford\r\nclapped me hard on the shoulder, muttering something that was probably\r\n"Stout fella!" Geoff Exeter said, "You can see, Will? Your eyes are all\r\nright?"\r\n\r\n"I think so. Yes, there isn\'t anything but a little fuzziness around\r\nthe edges."\r\n\r\n"That may be the result of the long spell of darkness," said John\r\nBaringer, fussing about professionally.\r\n\r\n"Well, let\'s get out and test the old orbs," said I, throwing off the\r\ncovers. John pushed me back into the pillow.\r\n\r\n"Not for a day or two. You\'ve got to regain your strength. Been in bed\r\na long time."\r\n\r\nI raged, but it did no good. It was three mornings later when at last\r\nI was allowed to leave the old castle--it belonged to Geoff Exeter\'s\r\nfamily, by the way, Geoff\'s father being old Lord Joseph Exeter--and go\r\ninto town, with Colonel Bedford at the wheel of my Jaguar.\r\n\r\nWe averaged a wild and impetuous thirty-two miles per hour all the way\r\nthere. The Colonel was a driver of the old, the very old, school, and\r\nobviously wished that the sleek little sports car were a two-wheeled\r\ntonga. As for me, I fidgeted and mumbled and longed to get behind\r\nthe wheel myself; I had once clocked the two-seater at a hundred and\r\nfourteen m.p.h., and when she was forced to creep along like this,\r\nboth she and I were unhappy. However, my job was to observe, and so I\r\ncontained my impatience perforce.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe circled the village and came in from the opposite end. No one knew\r\nwe were staying at the long-deserted Exeter Castle, and we meant to\r\nkeep it that way. It was a priceless hideaway, an excellent G.H.Q. for\r\nour planned insurgence.\r\n\r\nThe village of Exeter Parva contained some three hundred souls, if one\r\nincluded eighteen large placid-faced farm horses and ninety-seven dogs\r\nmore or less. It was market day. The countryside had boiled into town\r\nfor a hectic time. You might have scraped more citizens out of the pubs\r\nof one short London lane, and heard more noise in Westminster Abbey;\r\nbut for Exeter Parva it was a gala morning.\r\n\r\nWe drove down the main street--I believe it was the _only_ street, but\r\nthis may be prejudice on my part--and stopped to let a couple of deeply\r\nsuspicious cows pass by on either side. "Well?" asked the Colonel.\r\n\r\nI had nearly forgotten the purpose of the jaunt. I narrowed my eyes\r\nand stared keenly about me. I saw farmers in dull blue and faded gray,\r\nwomen in carefully mended finery, children in everything from Sunday\r\nbests to Saturday rags. I saw what one might see in any small village\r\non market day. I saw no monsters whatever. I sighed and gave a weak\r\ngrin. "Just people," I told him. "Just Englishmen."\r\n\r\nHe attempted to gnaw his short mustache. "Which means either that\r\n_they_ don\'t foregather in small towns, or that _they_ existed only in\r\nCaptain Wolfe\'s brain," said he meditatively. "Which, mind you, young\r\nfella, I don\'t believe for a minute. If there was ever a sane \'un,\r\nWolfe was he. Besides, he\'d served in my old stations in India." He\r\npronounced it "Injuh." He edged the Jaguar forward through what Exeter\r\nParva doubtless considered its heavy traffic. "Or else the experiment\r\ndidn\'t work. When you think about it, that\'s the logical explanation.\r\nWhatever happened to the Captain\'s eyes must have been almighty\r\ncomplicated. Don\'t understand a tenth of it myself, these dimensions\r\nand whatnot, but there it is. Frightfully complex changes must ha\' been\r\nwrought."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI was too dispirited to answer that. "Let\'s have a drink," I said.\r\n"There\'s a tavern. At least we can have a mug of ale before we go back."\r\n\r\n"Right." He parked the Jaguar expertly if rather slowly. We went into\r\nthe tavern, which was called The Leathern Funnel.\r\n\r\n"Well, gents, what\'ll it be?" inquired the barmaid affably.\r\n\r\n"Two ales, miss, if you please," said the Colonel. It was lucky for\r\nme that he ordered. I could not have produced anything but a squeak\r\nor a howl. The mugs bumped down before us and I picked mine up with\r\nboth hands and drank it off like a thirst-mad sot after a month of\r\nbread-and-water. Then I aimed myself carefully at the door and put\r\non the greatest piece of acting of my career; I walked casually and\r\nwithout a single stumble all the way to the street. The Colonel came\r\nafter me.\r\n\r\n"What the deuce, Chester! You don\'t allow a chap much time to enjoy\r\nhis bit of ale," he grumbled.\r\n\r\nI got in at the off side of the Jaguar without speaking and put my\r\nhands on the wheel. "Ready?" I managed to ask.\r\n\r\n"Here, I\'m to drive."\r\n\r\n"You are like hell. Get in." He did. "Hang on." I nudged the old girl\r\nout of the village and when we were hidden by the first hill I trod on\r\nher pedals with all my weight and terror behind my feet. We crashed off\r\ninto a beautiful eighty m.p.h., which I held or surpassed all the way\r\nhome. Three or four times he tried to bellow something at me. I ignored\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nWhen we had flown up the long winding drive I put her into the stables,\r\npart of which we had fitted up as a garage. Then I sat there in the\r\ngloom and shook with what felt like fever.\r\n\r\n"Here, what is it, laddie?" he barked. "What\'s wrong?"\r\n\r\n"Describe the barmaid," I said.\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"Describe the barmaid."\r\n\r\n"Fortyish, plain, thickset, red hands, red face, couple of warts.\r\nPleasant expression. Right?"\r\n\r\n"Not exactly. You left out a few things."\r\n\r\n"What on earth?"\r\n\r\n"The green horns, six of \'em, growing out of her face in the middle\r\nwhere the nose should have been. The shifting outlines that looked\r\nnow like a tree stump and now like an octopus. The pulsing heart of\r\nscarlet fire in the belly. The dusky-pink tentacles that pushed the\r\nmugs across the bar. The pure _hatred_ that throbbed visibly and seemed\r\nto feel cold when it got near you. The eyes like bursting orchids full\r\nof slimy white worms."\r\n\r\nHe put his hand on my arm and tightened his grip until his knuckles\r\ngrew pale. "Merciful God!" he said quietly. "Merciful God!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER IV\r\n\r\n\r\nWe went into the deserted hall of Exeter Castle. "Look, Colonel," I\r\nsaid, "will you tell them about this? They\'ll be upstairs. Tell \'em\r\nthat it works, that I can see as Jerry Wolfe saw, and everything he\r\ntold Alec was true. I\'ll be all right after a while, but now I want to\r\nbe alone. I don\'t want to be hedged in by close walls, or have to talk.\r\nI\'ll just roam around down here for a bit. You tell \'em it\'s okay, that\r\nI\'ll speak to them later."\r\n\r\n"Absolutely." The Colonel was the best stuff there is. "Come up when\r\nyou feel like it, son." He was gone.\r\n\r\nI strolled over to one of the great mullioned windows and touched its\r\ndusty glass lightly. That glass was older, probably, than all our\r\nlittle band put together. I thought: when it was placed here, were the\r\nusurping devils abroad in England? How long have they been filtering\r\nthrough into our world--a hundred years, a thousand? If you start with\r\none and he lets in others, then figuring by the birth rate and the\r\nmultiplying branches of his horrid clan, how long would it take to let\r\nin a million of them? How many figures of our glorious history were\r\njust that--figures, puppets, marionettes pulled by fourth-dimensional\r\nstrings, flesh-and-bone shadows fronting for demons....\r\n\r\n_We are no other than a moving row of magic shadow-shapes that come and\r\ngo...._\r\n\r\nJerry had asserted that when the human body died, the alien was\r\nrelegated to his own world again. Then it had to come back, I presumed,\r\nvia another birth. It must be centuries, then, at the very least a\r\ncouple of centuries, since the first one came through. It takes time to\r\ncorrupt the blood of six-thirteenths of all England.\r\n\r\nBut was it six-thirteenths? Jerry had taken his census in Charing Cross\r\nStation. At Exeter Parva I had seen exactly one usurper. Were they then\r\ncentered in London? Were there perhaps no more than fifteen or twenty\r\nthousand of them altogether? That brought down the odds!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI laughed loudly, and the age-old echoes waked in the oak rafters and\r\nlaughed after me. Oh, the odds were in my favor, all right.\r\n\r\nOpposing me, say (conservatively) twenty thousand foemen: great livid\r\nbeasts like nothing a sane mind could conceive, that had a system of\r\ncommunication outside my dimension which could gather a score or a\r\nthousand of them to down me if I showed fight.\r\n\r\nOn my side, a regular Colonel Blimp of a retired officer, a Boer War\r\nveteran, a skeptical middle-aged physician, a blind man, another chap\r\nwith no left arm, and a girl.\r\n\r\nAnd I: Will Chester, thirty-three years old, five feet ten, moderately\r\nstrong, normally intelligent; having all my teeth save two, a thick\r\ncrop of black hair, brown eyes, a complexion more ruddy than otherwise,\r\nand a face that, if it would not halt a charging bull in his tracks,\r\nstill would not win a beauty competition either.... Seven years of Army\r\nbehind me, an income of eight hundred pounds a year from a legacy,\r\nand nothing much in view as a future, until this morning--when I had\r\nsuddenly been elected the savior of mankind.\r\n\r\nI walked across to the tremendous blackened fireplace, empty now of\r\neverything but a lonely-looking single bronze firedog. Above the\r\nkeystone of the arch were the arms and motto of the Exeters, done\r\nin ancient stonework. I could not read the motto, having forgotten\r\nwhat Latin I once knew. The arms were a jumble of crossed lances,\r\nfleurs-de-lis, and hounds couchant. I wished I had a hound to fondle\r\nand pat, to be a companion in these moments when I felt I could not\r\nbear a human being near me.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFor half an hour or so I stood there gazing blindly into the depths of\r\nthe hearth and pitying myself shamelessly. Then a touch on my arm made\r\nme leap like a deer. It was Marion; Marion, carrying with her her own\r\nspecial radiance even in the shadowed hall.\r\n\r\n"What cheer, old stager?" she said.\r\n\r\n"Not much cheer, lady."\r\n\r\n"Obviously. What is it, got the wind up? Scared sky-blue-pink?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. I\'ve just realized that this whole affair is fact, is true; that\r\nit\'s not a crazy adventure in fancy, but a dreadfully real matter of\r\nsaving the sane world from destruction--and I\'m scared!"\r\n\r\n"We all are." She said it quietly, and with her simple words I knew\r\nfor the first time that I was not alone in my terror of the unknown.\r\nWe were all afraid. I put my arm around her shoulders. Her long light\r\nhair tingled on the back of my hand. I loved her very much, and so I\r\ntormented myself.\r\n\r\n"I\'ve been thinking of Jerry Wolfe, and of how alone he must have felt.\r\nHe didn\'t have six pals behind him when the first alien fouled his\r\nview."\r\n\r\n"Poor old Jerry," she said.\r\n\r\n"You were engaged to him, weren\'t you?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, back in prehistoric times, before Jennifer Tregennis caught him.\r\nJennifer was one of _them_, you know."\r\n\r\n"Yes, I know. D\'you still love Jerry?"\r\n\r\n"How do you mean? Of course I do."\r\n\r\nI didn\'t say anything. She went on after a moment. "But I\'m not in love\r\nwith him, if that\'s what you\'re driving at. Good heavens, Will, do you\r\nsee me as a moony widow-in-name-only? I\'ve got more sense than that."\r\n\r\nMy heart lifted. I patted her on the back. "Come along young Marion.\r\nLet\'s go plan strategy with the troops."\r\n\r\nWe went up the stairs to our sitting room, and I stood before the six\r\nof them and took the reins into my hands. I had a job to do.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER V\r\n\r\n\r\n"It comes to this, then," said Alec. "You mean to go and mingle with\r\nthe enemy, and try to discover weak spots in \'em, eh?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t see any other way to begin. We\'ve been scratching for a plan\r\never since we first heard of the usurpers; and nobody\'s come up with\r\none, for the good reason that we have nothing to go on. Oh, granted we\r\nknow we can kill their worldly bodies and send them home. But I hardly\r\nthink we\'re going to do nothing but roam the countryside killing off\r\npuppets for the next thirty years."\r\n\r\n"Remember what Jerry told me--that once one of them was sent back to\r\nhis own dimension, he could evidently still communicate with those who\r\nwere left here? That the aliens who\'re attached to human bodies exist\r\nin both dimensions equally?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, Alec, I was thinking of that a few minutes ago. It means\r\nthat under no circumstances can I let any one of them discover I\r\ncan see them; for even if I killed him here, he could go around\r\nhis silver-lined dimension telling all his pals about me. It means\r\nworking in the dark, from behind, anonymously. It means I\'ve got to be\r\ncircumspect as Satan. We all have to be circumspect."\r\n\r\n"Beg pardon, sir," put in Johnson, "but when do the rest of us have a\r\ntry at warping our eyeballs?"\r\n\r\n"You don\'t, Sergeant," I said flatly.\r\n\r\n"What d\'you mean, we don\'t?" cried Alec. "Of course we do."\r\n\r\n"No, son, not for a while, anyhow. It\'s a hundred to one, or a million,\r\nmore likely, to one, that we couldn\'t duplicate the exact injuries\r\nagain. We can\'t blind anyone else now. One of us seeing them may be\r\nenough--or if he isn\'t, then half a dozen might not be any better."\r\n\r\n"I think Will\'s right," said Marion suddenly. She lit a cigarette while\r\nwe waited. "I think we mustn\'t press our luck too far. At least we\r\nshould wait until we have a plan. I think--I really think one will be\r\nenough."\r\n\r\n"Why?"\r\n\r\n"Those million to one odds. Why did the experiment succeed the second\r\ntime? I think God\'s with us. I think God\'s on our side, and means us to\r\nwin."\r\n\r\nWe were all very quiet for a while.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI went over to a wall mirror and examined my face. I took out my little\r\ntin of pancake makeup, Marion\'s clever idea, and spread some thinly on\r\nthe scars of the blast: the little pink almost-healed scars that ran\r\nacross the bridge of my nose and scattered out fanwise toward my ears.\r\nWe were dealing with cleverness beyond thought, and every tiny giveaway\r\nmust be taken care of.\r\n\r\n"Jerry Wolfe died," I said, still peering in the mirror, "because\r\nhe was taken unawares, because he hadn\'t prepared himself to stay\r\nincognito among them. I have. I\'ve had my first sight of _them_, and\r\nbeen terribly shocked, yes; but now I think I\'ll be all right. I\'m\r\nready to go."\r\n\r\n"Up to London?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"We\'ll all go."\r\n\r\n"In a bunch? I don\'t think."\r\n\r\n"No, in pairs and trios. But there\'s no sense in any of us frettin\'\r\nhere without news from you." The Colonel was firm. "The motors are\r\nbelow. Ready, you chaps?"\r\n\r\n"Packed and primed," said Geoff.\r\n\r\n"Let\'s be off."\r\n\r\nAnd almost before I knew it we were in the old stables, putting our\r\ngear in the back of Alec\'s great red Rolls.\r\n\r\n"Who\'ll ride with me?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"Not I," barked the Colonel promptly. "I\'ve had some of your idea of\r\ndriving."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll go with you, Will," said Geoff Exeter. "Just put my fist on the\r\ncar, will you?" I did so, and he climbed in. "I like speed," he said.\r\n\r\nI had been hoping for Marion\'s company, but Geoff--well, he rated a\r\nfront-row stall in the game. He\'d lost his eyes for us. I said, "Geoff\r\nwill stick with me for the first days. The rest of you put up at the\r\nAlbany, where Colonel Bedford has a suite, and at that inn in Baker\r\nStreet, The Gray Gander. Geoff and I will be at the Gloucester Club."\r\n\r\n"I shall be there too, sir," said Johnson. "I\'ve been on \'sick leave\'\r\nquite long enough."\r\n\r\n"Roger. Geoff, the Sergeant and I at the Gloucester. The Colonel and\r\nJohn at the Albany. Marion and Alec at The Gray Gander. Don\'t get in\r\ntouch with me, unless you give birth to some really ripping idea. I\'ll\r\nfind you when there\'s news."\r\n\r\nI touched Marion\'s hand in farewell, and slid into the Jaguar. We\r\nbacked out and shot away into the blue.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VI\r\n\r\n\r\nWe stood at the bar of a dingy little pub on the outskirts of the\r\ndingy little district of Seven Dials. Geoff, who was learning to\r\norient himself by sounds, heard the clunk of his mug on the bar, and\r\nunerringly put his fingers around it. "Pretty good, eh?" he asked me,\r\nsipping the half-and-half.\r\n\r\n"You\'ll be a wizard at it in a few months."\r\n\r\n"I meant the ruddy ale, idiot. I\'m not bragging about my\r\naccomplishments yet. Seen any of our chums lately?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Oh, dozens. Run into \'em everywhere." It was a kind of simple code; I\r\nwas telling him that the pub was full of the aliens.\r\n\r\n"Fine. Any of \'em give you any news? Anything startling been happening?"\r\n\r\n"Not much. Same old stuff."\r\n\r\n_Same old stuff!_\r\n\r\nSame old fiends from Abaddon! Same old hosts of Hell! Same old ogres\r\nand ghouls, harpies and bugaboos, hobgoblins and hellhags!\r\n\r\nThe barman, when I squinted, was a big jovial red-nosed Cockney. The\r\nbarman, when I opened my eyes normally, was a writhing monster, a\r\nshapeless blob of intangible protoplasm in whose depths moved turgid\r\nlights of orange and mauve; from whose devilish form the waves of\r\nmalevolence came and went like the roiled swell made by the sluggish\r\nmoving of some hideous primeval entity beneath the surface of a grisly\r\ntarn....\r\n\r\nI grinned at him. "Cool weather for June, mate," said I affably.\r\n\r\n"Ar, yus," he agreed.\r\n\r\nI was pleased with myself. Like a spy plunked down in a strange land, I\r\nhad been feeling my way to confidence these last days, growing used to\r\nthe shapes about me, learning to show an expression of bland normality\r\nwhen confronted with unnameable horrors. I believed I was perfectly\r\nready now to begin our war.\r\n\r\nThe only trouble was that I hadn\'t the faintest idea of _how_ to begin\r\nit!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOne could move among these usurpers for a lifetime, I thought, and\r\nlearn nothing about them except that they were more hideous than\r\nleprous two-headed baboons, more incomprehensible than might be the\r\ndwellers of Mars. I watched them talking among themselves where they\r\nsat at the little oak tables. While their earthly husks chatted of\r\nprosaic things, the forms around the husks spoke--inaudibly to me--with\r\ntwisting tentacles, gesturing pseudopods, flowers of rotten-looking\r\n"flesh" that grew upon their bodies and swelled and burst and subsided\r\nto nothingness again. I knew they were speaking of terrible things....\r\n\r\n"Let\'s go," I said to Geoff. "Time we were thinking of bed."\r\n\r\n"Righto."\r\n\r\nI gave the barman good-night in a pleasant voice, and we emerged from\r\nthat ninth circle of Hell into the cool and lovely air. Seven Dials lay\r\nabout us, all a-murmur with the homely human sounds of earth\'s evening.\r\nI could not stand it.\r\n\r\n"Geoff," I whispered, "I\'m going to start the ball rollin\'. I\'m going\r\nto find out something."\r\n\r\n"How, old son?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m going to do a murder."\r\n\r\n"Think it\'s wise?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"I want to ascertain something. Just come along a bit."\r\n\r\nWe went up a dingy street and turned down a lane or two, until at last\r\nwe were alone on a length of grubby pavement, shadowed by the rickety\r\nhouses on either side. "Stand here," I said to Geoff Exeter. "It\'s\r\nblack in this corner and you won\'t be noticed. I\'ll come for you in\r\nhalf a tick."\r\n\r\nHe saluted carelessly. What nerve he had! To stand alone, blind and\r\nhelpless, ignorant of what I meant to do--I think Geoff was the bravest\r\nof all our little band.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI slunk up the street to a place some forty yards off, and hid myself\r\nin a time-battered doorway. The street lay empty and deserted in the\r\nearly moonlight. I drew the great keen knife that lived on the side of\r\nmy belt these days, and I waited.\r\n\r\nA man came down the road, staggering drunkenly. He was a man. I let him\r\npass.\r\n\r\nAnother came toward me. I heard his footsteps in the dark, echoing\r\nvalley of brick, and shortly thereafter saw him pass beneath a fading\r\nstreet lamp.\r\n\r\nDo you remember the passage in Doyle\'s _Lost World_, where the hero is\r\npursued along a jungle trail by a prehistoric carnivore?\r\n\r\n"_This beast had a broad, squat, toad-like face ... the moonlight\r\nshone upon his huge projecting eyes, the row of enormous teeth in his\r\nopen mouth, and the gleaming fringe of claws upon his short, powerful\r\nforearms. With a scream of terror I turned and rushed wildly down the\r\npath._"\r\n\r\nWell, I did not turn and rush wildly down the street, but if I had\r\nnot been hardened by much contact with the aliens, I think I must\r\nhave done so. This was the worst I had seen: toad-like, yes, but\r\nsquat and loathsome as no toad ever hoped to be; and indeed some of\r\nthe projections of its form did look like claws and fangs. Yet no\r\nprehistoric reptile could ever have exuded the repulsive effluvium of\r\nevil which radiated from this hideous usurper.\r\n\r\nAs it passed me I felt my stomach draw in as if from a sharp blow,\r\nand it is a wonder to me to this day that I did not scream or become\r\nviolently ill. The gods were with me, however, and I kept strict\r\nsilence.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen it had gone on a dozen paces, I slipped out and followed it\r\nnoiselessly. Moving as I had moved on many a commando raid in the old\r\ndays, I eased up behind it. It did not turn--neither of its bodies\r\nturned. Narrowing my eyes, I lifted the great knife and struck, with\r\nall the hatred in my soul concentrated in the blow. The blade sank\r\ninto the pseudo-human neck, severing the spinal cord instantly, and\r\nbefore my horrified eyes the great toad-creature swelled, turned vivid\r\ncrimson, and went out like the flame of a trodden candle.\r\n\r\nIt had left our dimension in the very instant that its human husk had\r\ndied.\r\n\r\nSheathing the knife under my coat, I flew down to where Geoff stood\r\npatiently waiting. I took his arm.\r\n\r\n"Come on, boy, let\'s make tracks."\r\n\r\n"Home?"\r\n\r\n"No, to another pub." We hurried down an alley, turned up a street and\r\ndown another, until I had put a maze of lanes behind us. Then we slowed\r\nabruptly and ambled into a smoky little room full of liquor fumes.\r\n\r\n"Two beers, old toff," I said to the fright behind the bar.\r\n\r\nWe guzzled them slowly, while I watched the aliens around the tables\r\nand at the bar. Shortly there was a flurry of excitement among them,\r\nthe tentacles writhing quickly and the ghastly brutes enlarging and\r\ndeflating as though pumped by a bellows. All the time the human\r\nportions drank and chatted and played darts. But the usurpers were\r\nexcited over something. Shortly half a dozen of them moved toward the\r\ndoor, the people in no evident hurry, but their marionette-masters\r\nwriggling like mad, as though eaten with impatience.\r\n\r\nI knew they were going to discuss something important. I had what I had\r\ncome for.\r\n\r\n"Bedtime," I said to Geoff Exeter. We went out of the pub and caught a\r\ntram for the vicinity of the Gloucester Club.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VII\r\n\r\n\r\nSafe in our rooms, with Johnson sitting, very unlike a waiter, behind\r\na bottle of brandy and a tray of sandwiches, and Geoff lying on the\r\nChesterfield smoking a pipe he could not taste, I told them what I had\r\ndone.\r\n\r\n"It\'s taught me a couple of things I didn\'t know, and affirmed some\r\nothers I wasn\'t sure of. First, I\'m certain the faculties of these\r\nbrutes are the same in this dimension as their \'human parts\'. That toad\r\ndidn\'t hear me coming, I know. He didn\'t have time to turn and get a\r\nlook at me before he went _pop_ and left us. He was bound to the body\r\ntill I released him, I think, and if he\'d left it he couldn\'t have\r\ngot back into it, or rather around it. His ears weren\'t keener than a\r\nman\'s, or he\'d have turned to see me when I crept up behind him.\r\n\r\n"But their communication system is terrific. That\'s where they have\r\nit all over us. When he was shut out of our world, the toad must have\r\ngone around their region telling his pals about it; and before long the\r\nones who were in that pub heard of it, too. Now they weren\'t told by a\r\nnewcomer, for I watched the door; so they were told on _their_ side of\r\nthe veil, by an alien who wasn\'t occupying a human frame. Got it thus\r\nfar?"\r\n\r\n"I admit to a little uncertainty here and there, sir."\r\n\r\n"Well, put it like this. There\'s a long tall screen set up across a\r\nstage. On one side of the screen--our side--are a lot of human beings.\r\nThis side is our world as we know it. On the other side, the fourth\r\ndimension or whatever it may be, are a lot of these horrid-lookin\'\r\nbeasts of usurpers.\r\n\r\n"Now here and there in the screen are holes, and through them some of\r\nthe aliens are holding fake human beings, just as in our well-worn\r\nsimile of the puppet show. I can see those who are leaning through the\r\nholes, but you can\'t.\r\n\r\n"When they\'re leaning through, they haven\'t any powers except those\r\nof normal people. They can\'t hear any better than a man. They can\'t\r\nwalk through bricks or see through stones. They can\'t look behind them\r\nwithout turning the human puppet around. I\'ve been watching them and\r\nI feel pretty certain of that. In some curious way they\'re limited by\r\ntheir puppets\' limitations here. That makes it easier to assassinate\r\n\'em, by the way--I just have to make sure that the human form doesn\'t\r\nget a chance to turn its head and spot me before it dies."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI drank a little brandy and went on intently. "The only way they really\r\nhave me beat six ways from the jack is in their system of tidings,\r\nof spreading \'em, I mean. That\'s a marvel. For as soon as I shoot or\r\nstab or throttle a puppet, the beast that\'s been twiddlin\' his strings\r\nleaves him and goes along behind that hypothetical screen between the\r\nworlds, telling all his playmates about it; and if he\'s had a chance\r\nto see me, and can describe me, then about a thousand of the others\r\nwill be watching through their holes in the screen for a blighter of my\r\nspecifications, and my name is Lord Jonathan Mud."\r\n\r\n"I see," nodded Johnson.\r\n\r\n"So my problem is to remain utterly anonymous. And I needn\'t tell you\r\nthat if I try to embark on a career of murder-by-night, I won\'t last\r\nvery long."\r\n\r\n"No, you won\'t." Geoff was grave. "What else is there to do, though?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know. And I think I could watch them for a lifetime and not\r\nlearn another thing about \'em. I\'m a tremendously handicapped spy\r\nbecause I can\'t disguise myself as one of them, and I can\'t understand\r\nwhat they say to each other. It\'s like a man going into a colony of\r\nbears and trying to pass himself off as a bear, except that I can\'t\r\neven begin to look like a usurper, while I _could_ put on a grizzly\r\nskin."\r\n\r\n"What are we to do, sir?" asked Johnson. His pale face was deadly\r\nserious. "We must do something, sir--but only you can decide what it\'s\r\nto be."\r\n\r\nTwo weeks before, I might have groaned aloud at such a responsibility.\r\nNow I took it in stride. Anyone who had been observing the demons of\r\nHell at their work for fourteen days and nights had either to take\r\nthings as they came along or to go stark staring loony.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll tell you what we\'ll do first. I\'ll take Geoff over to the Albany.\r\nThen I\'ll strike out alone for a bit. Maybe for a week, maybe a month.\r\nTravel light, fast, and inquisitive. Give myself a chance to cook\r\nup plots. And if nothing\'s come of it by then, why, I suppose we\'ll\r\njust have to set up an assassination bureau and hope I live a hundred\r\nyears...."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\n\r\nAnd so for a time I dwelt alone among the beast-folk.\r\n\r\nPacking a few shirts and such in a Gladstone bag, I left London in\r\nthe black Jaguar, ostensibly on a casual motoring jaunt. I headed up\r\nthrough the East Anglian Heights, stopping the first night in the\r\nlovely town of Bury St. Edmunds. Strolling through the streets next\r\nmorning, I was astonished and heartened beyond measure to find not a\r\nsingle usurper abroad. I went into a pub--I had begun to think that\r\nthe aliens were concentrated in pubs, so many horrendous bartenders\r\nhad I seen--and bought a pint from a perfectly normal girl. Lingering\r\nabout the town, I passed the time of day with gardeners and workmen and\r\nloafers, and was tempted to throw up the game and stay here in this\r\noasis of normality forever; but after lunch forced myself to get into\r\nthe Jaguar and roar off into the Lincoln Heights, where I spent a jolly\r\nevening in Old Bolingbroke talking politics with a spidery yellow\r\ncreature who amused himself by flicking my face now and again with his\r\nhairy-looking, tenuous, unfelt members. When at last I went to bed I\r\nfelt that I had served my apprenticeship and was a full-fledged spy who\r\ncould thenceforth bear anything the enemy could show or do....\r\n\r\nI worked westward and put up for a week at Manchester, in which great\r\ninland port I found an awful concentration of _them_. I left the\r\ntwo-seater at a garage and walked the streets from dawn till midnight,\r\nobserving, thinking furiously, trying to construct impossible plans of\r\nattack.\r\n\r\nThe third night, making sure that my knife was safely sheathed under my\r\ncoat, I went into the slums to do murder.\r\n\r\nDeliberately I chose my victim: a strapping brute of a navvy whose\r\nmortal form was surrounded by a cloudy gray beast of indescribable\r\ngrossness. I shadowed him from tavern to tavern, finally catching him\r\nalone in a narrow gut of an alley where the light fell dismally on\r\nscummed pools of stagnant water and heaps of filth. I crept up behind\r\nhim and circling his neck with my left arm I held him motionless for\r\ndragging seconds, my knee in the small of his back. He struggled\r\nmadly, but could not turn his head; and although the gray fiend puffed\r\nup and hurled out its streamers of ugly mist-like stuff, I knew it\r\nwas helpless to see me without twisting the human neck around. That\r\nwas what I had wanted to know for certain, what I had staked the\r\ncontinuance of my crusade on. I tipped up the navvy\'s chin and sliced\r\nacross his throat with the clean steel. He died, gurgling, and the\r\nmonster dwindled away into gray ribbons and vanished.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNow I felt I had verified my earlier theory of the limitation of\r\ntheir senses on this plane. Not only did the outsider have to rely\r\nfor hearing on the ears of his manikin, for tactile sensations on\r\nthe nerves of the were-human, for strength on its muscles and (for\r\nall I knew) for taste and scent on the poor dumb thing\'s tongue and\r\nnose--but most important of all, I believed that the beast must see\r\ninto this world through the puppet\'s eyes, and through them alone!\r\nThe recent gray devil had been able to twist and turn itself to some\r\ndegree independently of its fleshly body; what I took to be its eyes, a\r\ncluster of violet-tinted globules high in its upper torso, had flashed\r\nall round as it moved, even seeming to flit over me once or twice; yet\r\nit obviously could not detect me with them, or surely it would have\r\nconcentrated their baleful focus on my face.\r\n\r\nNo, I was certain that I could only be seen by the eyes in the heads\r\nof the puppets. I may as well say now that I never had cause to change\r\nthis conception of mine, and still strongly believe it to be true.\r\n\r\nThis may be as good a place as any to make it plain that my\r\ndescriptions of the beast-folk are of necessity limited and analogical;\r\nbut that the beings themselves had no analogy in anything existing on\r\nthis prosaic three-dimensional globe. This is true in part because of\r\ntheir utterly undefinable proportions and lineations, which had to be\r\nseen to be fathomed, and in part because the creatures did, after all,\r\nexist in at least one more dimension than our acknowledged three, so\r\nthat, despite my own mutant vision, I saw them in a state of flux,\r\ncontinuously moving, warping, and seeming to bend at impossible angles\r\nand to flow off just beyond the range of my sight into a sphere which\r\nwas to me forever invisible.\r\n\r\nIt must be understood, too, that when I identify portions of them\r\nas beaks, mouths, orifices, eyes on stalks, and other natural parts\r\nof animal life, I am only grasping at the nearest comparison. For\r\nall I know, their senses may reside in quite different organs than\r\neyes, mouths, noses and so on. For all I know, indeed, they may have\r\nno actual five senses in our meaning of the term. They seemed to\r\ncommunicate, it\'s true, by a kind of writhing and wriggling motion,\r\nwhich may have been accompanied by sounds which I could not hear; but\r\nthis may have been akin to a nervous reaction, while their actual talk\r\nmight well have been telepathic.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nDuring the next two nights I gave rein to my intense abhorrence of\r\nthese invaders from another world, and stalked through the city\r\nslaying indiscriminately in a passion of hatred. This makes me sound\r\nas bloodthirsty as a weasel. Well, I was. A tiny human David opposing\r\na hideous throng of Goliaths, I gave no quarter even as they had given\r\nnone to my friend Jerry Wolfe.\r\n\r\nOf course the police, the newspapers, the citizens of Manchester\r\nwere shaken by the wave of inexplicable violence. Headlines shrieked\r\nthat a new Ripper was abroad. And at that I began to wonder: what if\r\nan accident had happened to somebody\'s eyes back in the 1880s, and\r\nhe, seeing the aliens all about him, had begun on a wild career of\r\nassassination like my own? What if he had prowled the slums as I was\r\ndoing, killing and mutilating in a frenzy of detestation? Was that\r\nthe true explanation of the never-identified Jack The Ripper? Was\r\nhe, perhaps, a much-maligned champion of mankind? It was at least a\r\nfascinating possibility!\r\n\r\nFor those few score of hours I felt no remorse, no distaste for my\r\nbutcher\'s job, no sorrow except a fleeting one for the human relatives\r\nand friends of these poor brainless husks I was destroying. And their\r\ngrief, I was persuaded, was as nothing in the balance against the\r\ngood I was actually doing them by ridding our plane of the invading\r\nbeast-folk.\r\n\r\nThen reaction set in, and I lay in my hotel room and shook as though I\r\nhad blackwater.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI couldn\'t keep this up, week after week, month after month, for\r\nyears--even if I were not discovered, either by our police or by\r\n_them_, I knew I could not go on. Give me what resounding titles you\r\nwish: savior of mankind, champion of humanity, valiant worker for the\r\nsurvival of the race--I was still only a kind of butcher. I knew I\r\nwas glutted with killing. The papers put my total score at nineteen\r\ncorpses. They were husks, puppets, yes: but even though what I killed\r\nhad no life save that imparted by the guiding usurper, it still had the\r\nflesh and the blood of my own breed. When the alien was dispatched to\r\nhis own place, what remained had the look and feel and smell of someone\r\nwho might have been my brother. I had once quite callously shot a\r\nnumber of tigers in India: but when a tiger dies, he does not turn into\r\nthe slashed corpse of a man. He remains a tiger. If only the usurpers\r\nhad continued in their own true shapes after the slayings, I think I\r\nmight have gone on killing them forever.\r\n\r\nSo again I moved harmlessly among my foemen, and watched them colloque\r\ntogether in their silent, loathsome fashion, and did nothing.\r\n\r\nAnd a great melancholy took me; and I felt as helpless as a child\r\nsurrounded by the dismal wraiths of all ghost-haunted England, as\r\nhopeless as a man alone in a jungle full of teeming ghouls.\r\n\r\nI would have given a year of my life for one hour with Marion Black,\r\nbut I would not write or telephone her to come to me. I didn\'t want\r\n_them_ to be able to connect me with any of my band, in case _they_\r\never discovered my identity.\r\n\r\nThen, on the last night I spent in Manchester, I got a little drunk\r\n(out of frustration and despondency, and my inarticulate, stupidly\r\nsilent love for Marion) and I decided to put just one more of the enemy\r\nout of the fight, before I went on my way.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER IX\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was a mean street, one of the meanest in the whole city. The moon\r\nwas vivid, and straight overhead, so that my shadow lay in a black\r\nlittle pool around my feet. I sought a dark doorway and waited, knife\r\nin hand, my brain full of liquor and loathing.\r\n\r\nA man, and a man, and then a beast....\r\n\r\nI slid along in his tracks, glancing quickly behind me to make sure\r\nwe were unobserved, and swiftly performed the now-familiar operation\r\nof driving the impalpable demon back to its own dimension by hacking\r\nthe throat of the man-shape. Standing above the dead thing, I knew for\r\na second or two the feeling that must have held Jack The Ripper as\r\nhe stood over his victims: I wanted to stab and slash and mutilate, I\r\nwanted to let out some of the terrible hatred that boiled in my heart.\r\n\r\nCivilization won, however, and I sheathed the knife after wiping it\r\nclean on the man\'s leather jacket.\r\n\r\nAt that moment one of _them_ came round the corner and stood staring at\r\nme, not twenty feet off!\r\n\r\nIt was a gorgon of a brute, with several repulsive "heads" on lean\r\nstalks of necks; the biggest one looked rather like a hippopotamus\r\nwhose mother had been frightened by a Ubangi, and I was so used to the\r\nweird beings by now that, had I seen this one on a daylit street, I\r\nthink I would have chuckled. In that deserted lane, though, with the\r\nshell of its brother\'s puppet at my feet, I didn\'t chuckle. I turned\r\nand ran like hell.\r\n\r\nA whistle split the air; I turned my head as I pelted away, and\r\nsquinted my eyes. By all the gods! The hippo gorgon was a bobbie! A\r\nruddy P.C.!\r\n\r\nThe garage where my Jaguar champed at her inactive gears was only a\r\ncouple of blocks from the lane. I made for it, taking an extra turning\r\nor two in order to lose my pursuer. Coming to the big double doors, I\r\nslowed to a business-like stride, went in and demanded my car with a\r\nbrisk tone, and bestowed a couple of notes on the attendant who brought\r\nher to me.\r\n\r\n"Be coming back again?" he asked me cheerily.\r\n\r\n"Oh, very likely," I lied, and because he was a blessedly human little\r\nman, I tipped him an extra pound, which made him goggle and stutter as\r\nhe thanked me.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI shot the black car out into the street, turned left and lost myself\r\nin the maze of Manchester. The distant whistling of the searchers died\r\nout behind me.\r\n\r\nNow, I thought, I was in the bloody soup. My description would be\r\ncirculated in the other world, first of all. Well, I look like the\r\ncommon man, and that wouldn\'t help them much. Second, however, they\'d\r\nbe sure to discover that a fellow came into a garage in the vicinity\r\nand took his two-seater at the very time the bobbies were hunting\r\nthe Manchester Slasher (as the papers called me) thereabouts. That\'s\r\nelementary police work. So up to there all I really had to fret over\r\nwas the ordinary human bloodhound business.\r\n\r\nI\'d given the garage a false name, naturally, when I took the old girl\r\nin to leave her. A purely automatic precaution. Lucky I have a turn for\r\nthe criminal life, said I to myself smugly. Nothing to identify her\r\nwith me, Will Chester of London.\r\n\r\nThen there was my gear in the hotel.\r\n\r\n_Whoa!_ I slapped the wheel with one palm. I\'d given the hotel the same\r\nfake name--Robert Hood--but in my Gladstone were half a dozen items\r\nwith my own label on them. I\'d intended a quick baggageless dash out\r\nof the city, before they traced me to the garage and sent out a call\r\nfor a black Jaguar; but to leave without that damning luggage would be\r\nto present my true identity to the police in a matter of a few days,\r\nor even less. I headed for the hotel. Minutes counted, but so did that\r\naccursed Gladstone bag.\r\n\r\nThen I bethought myself of the garage again. Of course they knew\r\nwhere I had been staying! That meant that within two minutes of the\r\npolice--_they_--arriving at the garage and discovering that I had come\r\nin and hared out, the hotel would be receiving a call about me.\r\n\r\nI groaned aloud. The Jaguar, sensitive to my thought waves or\r\nperhaps to the unconscious pressure of my foot, pounced forward at a\r\nlaw-shattering speed. Minutes counted? Seconds!\r\n\r\nThe hotel was no fly-by-night, tuppenny-ha\'penny wee place, for I had\r\nseen no reason on earth why I should not be comfortable while on my\r\ncrusade; I put the Jaguar alongside the curb within a dozen paces of\r\nthe entrance, walked nonchalantly in and demanded my key. The desk\r\nclerk was listening to the telephone. "One moment," he said, and then\r\nto me, holding his hand over the mouthpiece, "I think this is for you,\r\nsir."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMy mind speeded up and raced like a mad thing. No one would be calling\r\nme, so it must be _about_ me; therefore the police had already found\r\nthe garage; and the clerk must only have heard them say my name (my\r\nfalse name) within the instant. I imagined that they had said, "Have\r\nyou a Mister Robert Hood staying there?" or something of the sort.\r\nNow I had two choices: I could bolt at once, leave my luggage to be\r\ninspected, and subsequently have my face plastered on every newspaper\r\nin England as the Manchester Slasher; or I could brazen it out.\r\nInstinctively I chose the right course, the only course. I bluffed to\r\nthe top of my bent.\r\n\r\n"Give me my key first," I said. He did so. "Now just tell \'em I\'m not\r\nin, and hang up. It\'s a bloke I don\'t care to talk to."\r\n\r\n"Ah," said he, smirking, "I see." To the instrument he murmured, "I\'m\r\nsorry, Mister Hood is out at present," and--my eternal gratitude to\r\nthat sleek-haired, smug-faced desk clerk!--rang off without asking if\r\nthere was any message. He had given me a good half minute of free time.\r\nI went to the lift and said, "Four please." If it had not been there\r\nI should have had to take the steps. Surely my luck was running that\r\nnight!\r\n\r\nI judged that, just about the time I struck the fourth floor, that\r\nphone at the desk would be sounding impatiently again. I opened my\r\ndoor, bolted it behind me, and began to throw things into my Gladstone.\r\n\r\nMy phone started to ring.\r\n\r\nI emptied the drawers of the high-boy, the devilish jangle in my ears;\r\nleaped into the bathroom and brushed my shaving kit and toilet articles\r\ninto a little leather bag I used for them. I would be certain I was\r\nleaving nothing behind on which there might be a monogram, an engraved\r\nname....\r\n\r\nFingerprints! Great merciful God!\r\n\r\nI was packed. Everything I had brought with me was in the Gladstone.\r\n\r\nThe phone stopped ringing.\r\n\r\nThey would be on their way. A hotel detective or a couple of policemen,\r\ncalled in after that urgent message from the garage. Perhaps the\r\nusurpers--\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI whipped out my handkerchief, wrapped it round my right hand, and\r\nstarted in to dust that room as no chambermaid had ever dusted it in\r\nall its memory. Each piece of wood which I might have touched in the\r\npast week received a quick vigorous swipe. Each glass and porcelain\r\nsurface in the bathroom. Everything. The door knob. The glasses. Is\r\nthat all? The window, which I\'d raised a few times. Is that all? It\r\nthat _all_?\r\n\r\nI believed it was. I snatched up the Gladstone and with the cloth still\r\naround my hand I opened the door and slipped into the corridor.\r\n\r\nClose the door, son. That\'ll halt them for a precious two seconds.\r\n\r\nDown the corridor, around the first turn....\r\n\r\nSafe, for the moment, safe!\r\n\r\nAnd now what? Here was a flight of stairs. And in the distance I heard\r\na lift door open.\r\n\r\nDown the stairs I rushed, and was on the third floor.\r\n\r\nRunning for another flight, a different one, with a vague thought of\r\nconfusing my trail, I stumbled and almost fell. Recovering, I fled down\r\nthese, on down, down, down.\r\n\r\nI was on the ground floor at last. The men\'s bar lay before me. The\r\nlobby was far away in the front of the building.\r\n\r\nI straightened my tie, tried to appear like an eccentric who always\r\ncarried a large brown bag with him, and paced into the bar.\r\n\r\nAs I put my hand--still swathed in the linen--to the outer door, the\r\nbarman cried out, "\'Ere, sir!" but I was gone. They would think I was\r\nan absconding guest. They would pursue me. But I shouldn\'t run, didn\'t\r\ndare run, along this street where humans and aliens strolled singly and\r\nin couples. I walked as fast as I thought I could without attracting\r\nattention. The hue and cry arose behind me. I came to the corner,\r\nrounded it without halting, and saw my dear old Jaguar twenty yards off.\r\n\r\nI ran then, for there was no help, indeed there was deadly peril, in\r\nwalking any longer. I went with great bounds, brushing aside people\r\nand _them_ indiscriminately. Hurling the bag onto the seat, I hurdled\r\nit with a last burst of energy, crashed in behind the wheel, and in a\r\nflash my motor and I had leaped forward and were on our merry way.\r\n\r\nWe had gone a dozen blocks before I took my right hand off the wheel\r\nand unwrapped the handkerchief from it, stowing it away in the side\r\npocket that also contained my hotel key. Mentally I checked over every\r\nclue to my true identity; so far as I could think, I had wiped them all\r\nout. Now all that remained was to get out of Manchester safely.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nChoosing the darkest streets almost without volition, I had put a\r\ncouple of miles between me and that by-now-surely-tumultuous deathtrap\r\nof a hostelry. I thought of road blocks. One is always reading in\r\nAmerican mystery stories of road blocks set up to catch thieves and\r\nmurderers, but I had no notion as to whether they were used in England.\r\nRelying on the thought that at any rate I had never heard of one here,\r\nI tore for the outskirts of the city.\r\n\r\n_They_ would be on my trail. I kept seeing mental pictures of the\r\nalien beasts, sniffing me out like so many obscene bloodhounds. My\r\nhands grew slippery on the wheel with the sweat of fear. Then I put my\r\npanic behind me; _they_, after all would be working in the usual human\r\nchannels, for surely they had at worst no more than a hazy suspicion\r\nthat I could see them. True, I had relegated quite a few of them. But\r\nit must seem more likely to them that I was a maniac with luck on his\r\nside, rather than a seer. I doubted strongly that they would make such\r\na concentrated effort at finding me as they had done last year with\r\npoor Jerry Wolfe. So I had only the laws and power of Old England to\r\nworry about.\r\n\r\nGoing over the past hour again and again, while driving, now at\r\nbreakneck speed through deserted streets and now at a snail\'s pace in\r\ntraffic, I decided that once I had left the city I had a very good\r\nchance of escaping entirely. Therefore I set myself to leave it as\r\nsoon as possible. Beneath me the Jaguar purred contentedly as my foot\r\ncaressed her accelerator.\r\n\r\nAnd so the notorious Manchester Slasher went into the fastnesses of the\r\nPeak District, and laid his course south for Birmingham.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER X\r\n\r\n\r\nI did not take the Jaguar into Birmingham proper; I put her into a\r\nhalf-smashed, bombed-out old building I found quite by chance some few\r\nmiles out of the city, and prayed that she would wait there for me till\r\nmy business was done. It was then about four-thirty in the morning.\r\n\r\nAt a little tea-and-biscuit place in the suburbs I had a hearty\r\nbreakfast, and read in an early edition the terrifying tale of the\r\nManchester Horrors. It seemed that the infamous Slasher had been\r\ntentatively identified when he was tracked by the police to his lair\r\nin a well-known hotel; he was thought to be either a certain Irish\r\ncommunist agitator, or else a celebrated American gangster who I\r\nhappened to know had been killed in 1937....\r\n\r\nI walked on down to Birmingham and took a room in an obscure house in\r\na slum district, run by a blowzy slattern who answered to "Old Mag."\r\nThe parlor was equipped with a weary wireless set and an assortment\r\nof highly-flavored gentlemen in the last stages of disrepair. One of\r\nthem looked like a racetrack tout fallen on evil days, another I could\r\nhave sworn was a professional mugger. A fitting den for the Manchester\r\nSlasher!\r\n\r\nI was careful not to touch anything at all until I had gone out\r\nand bought a pair of thin silk gloves, which I wore at all times\r\nthereafter. The proprietor of the pawnshop gave me a knowing wink as\r\nhe handed them to me. I\'m sure he thought I was a cat-burglar or a\r\nsafe-cracker. No one in my new home deigned to notice them. I must\r\nmention that, quite by accident and not through any searching on my\r\npart, I had happened to strike a place where none of the other-world\r\nbrutes lived; I had been prepared to see a number of them here, but\r\nonly found the lowly humans I have spoken of.\r\n\r\nI spent my first evening in going over my clothing and other\r\npossessions, ripping out name tags, obliterating initials, and\r\ncleaning off fingerprints. I would not be trapped again as I had nearly\r\nbeen in Manchester.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe second day and the early evening thereof I walked through the\r\nstreets, thinking furiously. And the only conclusions I could come to\r\nanent my problems were bitter and lonely and hopeless.\r\n\r\nGoing "home" about eight o\'clock, I wandered into the parlor and was\r\naccosted diffidently by a very low-looking form of life, which begged\r\nthe pleasure of my company in a nearby hooch hut. I agreed. I would\r\nhave stood drinks to a wolverine if the creature would have listened to\r\nme. I was starved for speech.\r\n\r\nWhen I had bought him a few rounds, his taste running to that noble\r\nold British concoction, a four-o\'-gin-hot, we began to talk freely:\r\nof anything, the weather, the latest race results, the difficulty of\r\ngetting "real prime raw gin"....\r\n\r\nHe was a curious fellow. The name he gave me was Arold Smiff, which I\r\nimagine had once been Harold Smith; he was small and stringy and of\r\na tobacco-brown hue, with eyes in which liquor-broken veins had long\r\nsince stained the irises and the white to an all-over muddy-crimson. He\r\nstank like a shebeen, his breath would have shriveled a brass monkey,\r\nbut I soon noticed something really odd about him--he did not seem to\r\nbe at all intoxicated. I made bold to comment on this.\r\n\r\n"Why, General," he said, grinning wryly, "fak is, I been lushed for\r\nso long, I can\'t get lushed any more hardly at all. You ever had the\r\nsnykes?"\r\n\r\nI shook my head. He nodded wisely. "Ar, I thought not. You\'re clarss.\r\nMe, I got a permanent case of \'em, bloody snykes and \'orrors all the\r\ntyme. You wouldn\'t know what it\'s lyke, General, seeing such \'orrors\r\nall the bloody damn tyme."\r\n\r\n_Would I not, I said to myself, oh, would I not!_\r\n\r\n"No, you\'re clarss, any bloody fool could see that." He leaned over\r\nconfidentially, and I could fairly feel my eyebrows curl under that\r\nbreath. "Between pals, now, wot\'s your lay?"\r\n\r\n"Lay?" I repeated idiotically.\r\n\r\n"Gyme, General, gyme! I knew you was hot stuff the mo\' I seen yer at\r\nOld Mag\'s. Wot\'s your specialty--jools?"\r\n\r\nGood Lord! The man took me for a jewel-thief!\r\n\r\n"Not exactly," I said.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe were sitting in a booth. He craned his neck around to see that no\r\none could overhear us. "Aye, but it\'s something fust-rate. You\'re no\r\nbloomin\' snaveler nor knuckler."\r\n\r\n"Ah, no," I agreed, presuming that, whatever they were, I couldn\'t be\r\none of them.\r\n\r\n"You\'re clarss," he repeated obstinately. "Me, I may not look so likely\r\nnow, but once I was Manny Jarman\'s right\'and lad."\r\n\r\nI tried to look impressed, and wondered who Manny Jarman had been. A\r\ngreat deal of ale had flowed down my gullet at a good clip, and I was\r\nfeeling reckless and friendly. "I\'ll tell you one thing," I said, "the\r\npolice want me rather badly. I wouldn\'t tell you that if I didn\'t trust\r\nyou."\r\n\r\n"Ar! You trust Arold Smiff, General. \'E won\'t letcher down. I knowed\r\nyou was on the lam when you come into Old Mag\'s. You\'re okay there. And\r\nyou\'re okay so long as I\'m your chum, too, see? I got connections."\r\nHe brooded darkly over his connections. "Mugs, but they respecks old\r\nArold Smiff, knowing wot \'e was once. Before the gin got \'im," he added\r\nsignificantly, peering into the depths of his glass. I snapped my\r\nfingers for another four-o\'-gin-hot.\r\n\r\nHe chattered on, in his strange drunk-sober style, for a few minutes:\r\nand then, someone pushing by me, I moved my elbow to make more room\r\nin the aisle. In doing so I glanced up. It was one of _them_. A truly\r\nfearsome beast, this one purplish, slimy and grotesque.\r\n\r\nArold bent closer, again singeing my eyebrows. "I\'ll give yer an\r\nexample," he hissed. "Example o\' wot I go through nowadyes. You seen\r\nthat bloke leave?"\r\n\r\n"Yes?"\r\n\r\n"\'E were a bloke to you, huh? Regular normal bloke?"\r\n\r\n"Mmmm," I said noncommittally.\r\n\r\n"Welp, me, I didn\'t see no bloke at all, d\'yer get me? I seen a great\r\nbig glob o\' goop! A great big purple wet-looking barstid of a garstly\r\nfreak! You think a joker\'s bad off when \'e\'s got snykes, huh? Wot\r\nabout me, wot sees Frank and Stein\'s monsters all about?" He sat back\r\ntriumphantly.\r\n\r\nI suppose I gaped. I suppose my jaw dropped, my hands shook, my face\r\ngrew pale. I don\'t know. For the moment the gin palace was a blur and\r\nmy faculties were frozen, as Arold Smiff\'s words rang in my head.\r\n\r\nFrankenstein monsters! Purple freak!\r\n\r\nFate had given me an ally worth more than all six of my band combined.\r\nA souse of an ally, a lowbred criminal of an ally, a gin-soaked\r\nworthless-appearing ally: but one who could see the aliens, evidently\r\nas plainly as I could myself!\r\n\r\nOur gallant pioneer, Jerry Wolfe, had speculated that perhaps some\r\npeople could see them when having a fit of what we call the d.t.s--when\r\nthey were saturated with alcohol, their vision was warped into the\r\nuncanny dimension-piercing angles which the musket blast had given me.\r\nHere was living proof of the theory. And here likewise was a fellow so\r\npermanently full of liquor (I swear the stuff ran in his veins) that he\r\ncould see them _all the time_!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XI\r\n\r\n\r\n"Where can we talk?" I asked him quietly, when I had got control of\r\nmyself.\r\n\r\n"Why, \'ere, General."\r\n\r\n"No, no. A good safe place where we can talk privately and without\r\ninterruption."\r\n\r\n"Ow! Old Mag\'s, o\' course. None better. Your room or mine."\r\n\r\n"Mine," I said. "Let\'s go, old horse."\r\n\r\nWe went, taking along a bottle of gin for medicinal purposes. I sat him\r\ndown in the dilapidated rocking chair, in my bedroom and, staring into\r\nhis brown face intently, said, "I\'ve got a proposition for you, Arold.\r\nIt\'s a whopper, too."\r\n\r\n"Big job?" he said. "You want me on a big job?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, you. You\'ll be my partner in it."\r\n\r\n"Me?" he repeated incredulously.\r\n\r\n"You\'re the one chap who can help me."\r\n\r\nThe muddy eyes actually filled with tears; it was not a maudlin drunk\'s\r\neasy weeping, though, but the honest emotion of a humble workman who\r\nfinds himself asked to assist a master. "You want me, Arold Smiff, to\r\nlink up wiff you, a gent, a real gent, clarss, wot I mean a toff as\r\never was? Cor! I knowed I wasn\'t through yet," said he. "Just you lead\r\non, General."\r\n\r\n"I was only a Captain," said I.\r\n\r\n"Then you didn\'t \'ave your deserts, I\'ll say. Wot\'s the gyme?"\r\n\r\n"The biggest."\r\n\r\n"Bank o\' England?" he asked without much astonishment.\r\n\r\n"No, not theft. We don\'t have to steal anything in this game."\r\n\r\nHe frowned. "\'Old on, now, you mean I gotta knock somebody orf? Scrag\r\n\'em?"\r\n\r\n"Not you personally, Arold. You\'ll be too high in the game for that."\r\n\r\n"Ow, not that I objecks, mindjer," he hastened to assure me. "It just\r\ntook me off guard, as you might say, you not lookin\' lyke a basher." He\r\ngrinned. "\'Twouldn\'t be the first mug I\'ve did in, General."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll wager on that," said I under my breath, and aloud, "I told you:\r\nyou\'ll be too important in this affair to do any murdering yourself,\r\nArold." I prodded him in the chest with a finger. "You\'ll give the\r\norders," said I.\r\n\r\nHe was deeply impressed by that. "Cripes!" he said. "Me?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. Now listen closely, and I\'ll explain the whole business. Think\r\nback. Remember that purple monster you saw leaving the pub?"\r\n\r\n"Not \'arf. Holy hell, not \'arf!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"It was something like a lizard in shape," I said slowly. "It had a\r\nlong trailing tail, and two big hind legs it walked on; it had two sets\r\nof little forearms, only they weren\'t like arms, but more like big\r\nsnakes: no fingers, no hands, just oozy rounded arms. It looked as if\r\nit had just crawled out of the sea, and around it there were a lot of\r\nthin silvery-blue lines, running at a tangent like this--" I chopped my\r\nhands through the air at a forty-five degree angle--"that seemed like\r\na background to the creature. There were glowing eyes in its chest, and\r\nfor a head it had what looked like a dead fish. Right?"\r\n\r\n"Right." He gave me a long blank stare. Then he batted his lids up and\r\ndown. "\'Ow did you know? I never told you all that!"\r\n\r\n"I saw it too."\r\n\r\n"Garn!" he said scornfully. "Wotcher givin\' us?"\r\n\r\n"If I didn\'t see it, then how did I know just what it looked like?"\r\n\r\nHe thought that over, sucking his yellow teeth. Then he gasped. "My\r\nGawd! You got \'em too?"\r\n\r\n"Do I look drunk?"\r\n\r\n"No, but--"\r\n\r\n"And if I were, would I have seen exactly what you saw, unless it were\r\nreally there?"\r\n\r\nArold Smiff sank back in the rocker and let out a wheeze that began in\r\nthe tips of his toes. "My old mother! I\'m off it for good. The snykes\r\nare catchin\'. Ow! _\'O are you, mister?_"\r\n\r\nI threw my whole hand into the center of the table, staking everything\r\non it.\r\n\r\n"I\'m the Manchester Slasher," I said.\r\n\r\nHe recoiled. His brown face, incapable of turning pale, nonetheless\r\ngave the effect of blanching in some mysterious manner of its own.\r\nThe common little thief and garden-variety mugger quailed before the\r\ncelebrated Mad Ghoul of Manchester. He drew out a large clasp knife and\r\nsnapped open the blade, his hand shaking. "\'Ere, now, you keep back\r\nfrom me, you \'ear? I\'m not to be trifled wiff, see? You touch me and\r\nyou\'re a deader, that\'s wot."\r\n\r\n"Oh, put it away," I said fiercely. When he refused, I grabbed his\r\nwrist with my left hand and struck it a stinging judo blow with my\r\nright: the knife fell.\r\n\r\n"Ow-er!" he yelled. "You keep back!" Cowering, he gazed at me with\r\nthose muddy-crimson eyes wide, his mouth stretched in a nervous, sickly\r\ngrimace of fear. "Twenty you done in, all in a couple of dyes," he\r\nwhispered. "And I been and gone and drunk wiff you lyke you was my\r\nbrother. You\'re mad-dorg crazy, you are."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"I\'m as sane as you are," I said, "or saner. For heaven\'s sake, man,\r\nget hold of yourself. Do you think I stood you a bucket of gin and\r\nwasted two hours on you just to murder you in my own room?"\r\n\r\n"Welp, no," he said grudgingly.\r\n\r\n"Up north I killed four in the time I\'ve taken to talk to you," I said,\r\nto impress him further. "Now listen closely, because I don\'t want to go\r\nover this more than a couple of times. In the first place, those people\r\nI killed weren\'t people."\r\n\r\n"Garn!"\r\n\r\n"They were beasts like the purple lizard. Some of \'em were worse. I\r\nkilled one that was like a giant hoptoad with fangs."\r\n\r\n"I\'ve seen \'em like that.... \'Ere, wotcher giving us? _I_ know them\r\n\'orrors is all in my mind. _I_ ain\'t no common lushington. _I_ knows\r\nit\'s the gin. _I_ know they\'re folks like everyone."\r\n\r\n"Oh, _you_ know, do you? Open up that walnut you call your mind, chum.\r\nWhy do we both see the identical brutes, if they\'re in your mind?"\r\n\r\n"I dunno," he growled sullenly.\r\n\r\n"Then just sit quiet--there\'s the gin beside you--and I\'ll explain it\r\nall in words of one syllable."\r\n\r\nAnd this I did. I went over the whole frightful business, with a side\r\ndissertation on the theory of a fourth dimension. Then I went over\r\nit again. Somewhere in the distance a clock struck two. I summarized\r\nit again. I could see it beginning to penetrate to his submerged\r\nintellect. I went through it all a fourth time, and his murky gaze\r\nbegan to glow. The far-away clock struck three.\r\n\r\n"\'Ere," he said at last. "You ain\'t loony at all, are yer? Tell me\r\nagayn about them as is in it wiff yer."\r\n\r\n"There\'s an old Colonel, a real big gun in his day, with pots of money.\r\nThere\'s two veterans, gentlemen both, and one the son of a lord.\r\nThere\'s a doctor with plenty of brains, and an old chap with more\r\ndignity than you ever saw in your misspent life. There\'s even a girl, a\r\nreal lady. And there\'s me. Do you think we\'d all be chucking our lives\r\ninto this mess if we didn\'t know it was desperately real?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe scratched his nose with a black nail. "No," he said, "no, you\r\nwouldn\'t. I can see as you\'re real clarss, ripper or no. What d\'yer\r\nwant of me, though? I\'m plain dirt compared wiff you."\r\n\r\n"Why, you were Manny Jarman\'s right-hand man," I said. "You haven\'t\r\nforgotten what it\'s like to be top dog?"\r\n\r\nHe was immensely flattered at that. "Thank you kindly, General. You\r\nsees deeper into a bloke than most. Go on."\r\n\r\n"I\'ve only a hazy idea of what I want you to do, Arold, when the\r\ntime comes. But here\'s an important part of it. Could you find me a\r\nwhole raft of fellows who\'d be willing to commit murder for money, no\r\nquestions asked?"\r\n\r\n"Hell," he grinned, "could a cat find garbage cans?"\r\n\r\n"They\'d have to be given definite instructions, and be the kind of men\r\nwho would carry them out to the letter. And no copper\'s narks, see?\r\nNobody who\'d take our cash and then squeal."\r\n\r\n"I could do it," he said, thinking. "I could get bullies \'ere in\r\nBrummagem who\'d cut their mothers\' necks for three quid. And they could\r\nget others. Ow, trust Arold Smiff to find the right \'uns!"\r\n\r\n"We might need a hundred."\r\n\r\n"There\'s that many and more."\r\n\r\nI was giving slow birth to a real plan now. "It might be that they\'d\r\nhave to go all over England, and do these murders in a hundred\r\ndifferent places. And they\'d have to do them in a certain manner you\'d\r\ntell \'em about, see? No slipshod hatchet work, but well-planned\r\nassassinations."\r\n\r\n"Might be harder to find them as would work precise to orders, but I\r\ncould do it. I know every rogue in these parts, don\'tcher doubt it,\r\nGeneral."\r\n\r\n"That\'s why you\'re so valuable, Arold: that\'s why you\'ll be my\r\nright-hand man. And only you and I must know that the men we\'ll be\r\nkilling aren\'t truly men, but--"\r\n\r\n"But oosluppers," agreed Arold, proud of the new word. "Oosluppers from\r\nthe fourth demented, yus. Why, General, it\'s lyke a crusade, a bloody\r\nnoble crusade, ain\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s what we think, pal. But that part\'s a deep secret."\r\n\r\n"Hot knives won\'t drag it outen me," he bragged. "Gawd, to think I been\r\nseein\' these \'ere Frank and Stein\'s monsters for eight years more or\r\nless, and thought all the time it was the gin!" He made his apologies\r\nto the liquor by taking an enormous gulp of it.\r\n\r\n"Now I\'ve got to go away for a while, Arold," I told him. "I\'ve got\r\nto travel all over this island, and collect some names. When I\'ve\r\ndone that I\'ll let you know. Meanwhile you can be lining up your\r\nlieutenants. With care, old horse, with the greatest care." Then it\r\noccurred to me that he had never asked what his reward would be.\r\n"You\'ll find yourself a rich man when this is over, Arold."\r\n\r\n"Garn, what\'d I do wiff a lot o\' money? I don\'t need much but gin and\r\na few comforts now and agayn, and maybe a bit o\' cash to swank it wiff\r\naround town."\r\n\r\n"You\'ll be able to build a swimming pool and fill it with Gordon\'s if\r\nyou do your job right."\r\n\r\n"Trust old Arold, General."\r\n\r\n"I do," I said. "I do."\r\n\r\n"That\'s damn near thanks enough," said he in a choked voice. There was\r\na stratum of pretty fine stuff in Arold Smiff, besides the streak of\r\nsentimentality you\'ll usually find in your lower-class Briton.\r\n\r\n"Now," I went on, "here\'s the plan. I\'ll go over it until we both know\r\nit word for word."\r\n\r\nI sketched it out as it had come to me in this strange night of lengthy\r\nexplanation. Then I repeated it, and re-repeated it, until I thought it\r\nwould bubble out of our ears.\r\n\r\nAnd when the clock rang five, we were nearly ready to begin. But first\r\nwe laid ourselves down to sleep for a few hours, till the pubs had\r\nopened again; when we arose, and put on our coats, and sallied out\r\ntogether to commit a murder ... a most unpleasant but most necessary\r\nmurder.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XII\r\n\r\n\r\nI walked out of Birmingham alone, just before noon, heading for the\r\nbombed-out old building in which I had left the Jaguar, with my\r\nGladstone bag locked in her dickey, or rumble seat. I had not carried\r\nany baggage with me into the city except my razor, toothbrush, knife\r\nand automatic, and my pipe.\r\n\r\nIt occurs to me that, since she played nearly as useful a part in\r\nmy adventures as did my human colleagues, I should perhaps devote a\r\nmoment to describing my black Jaguar. I had bought her late in 1937 for\r\na matter of some four hundred pounds, and except for the war years,\r\nwhich she waited out in a barn near my home in Coventry, we had been\r\ninseparable ever since. She was one of the mighty Standard Swallow\r\n100s, with a wonderfully reliable three-and-a-half-liter engine, and\r\nas I\'ve said, I once clocked her at a hundred and fourteen m.p.h.\r\nand believed she could do more. She would go from a standstill to\r\neighty m.p.h. in a matter of twenty-seconds, for her acceleration was\r\nferocious. Yet she was the smoothest-riding jade I ever owned. Her\r\nbrown leather upholstery had faded through the years to a rich old tan,\r\nbut her heart was as young as ever. I had lavished on her the affection\r\nthat might more properly have gone to a wife or a kennel of hounds; in\r\nmy lonely careering about the countryside in these last days she had\r\namply repaid me. She had been companion and steed and confidante to a\r\nvery homesick man.\r\n\r\nIt was a clear day, with a promise of sultry heat to come that prickled\r\nmy body with sweat under the old tweed suit. I tramped briskly along,\r\nthinking of Marion--I thought of her whenever I could, for her sweet\r\nface shut out the menacing usurpers from my mind--until I came in sight\r\nof the wrecked building. As I swung down the hill toward it, I heard\r\nvoices raised in argument.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCautiously I slowed a little, looking nonchalant and disinterested. I\r\nwalked past the ruin and from the corner of my eye saw a number of men\r\n(and monsters) clustered around the Jaguar looking at her curiously.\r\n"Aye," said one of them, "that\'s his, right enough. Black Jaggiar, it\r\nsays here on the prints." Two of them were constables. I ambled over.\r\n\r\nNow this was a particularly idiotic thing to do, but I must plead\r\nextenuating circumstances. In the first place, I had just been a\r\npartner in the commission of a messy homicide, and was strung up as\r\nhigh as a barrage balloon. Secondly, I had been hardheaded and coldly\r\npractical for many hours--indeed, since the night of my last murder in\r\nManchester I had not done an impetuous act, nor played the swaggering\r\ngambler with death for any stakes except the highest. It suddenly came\r\nto me that I must do a doughty deed, act the bold Quixote for once,\r\nto liven up my interest and tone up my reflexes. I was never born to\r\nbe an ice-brained plotter, although I had been forced by fate into\r\nthat uncongenial role. Rather for me the swirling cape and impetuous\r\nrapier, the big-plumed hat and gallant gesture, the fiery and slightly\r\nridiculous _beau geste_. So I ambled into the wrecked building.\r\n\r\nThe men (and monsters) turned to stare at me. I could see the great\r\nbrutes of aliens turning orange and green with interest. I had learned\r\nthat they often swelled and changed color when intrigued or alarmed.\r\n"Cheero," I said vacuously. "What\'s up?"\r\n\r\nOne of the group, a portly constable with a red face, eyed me dourly\r\nand said, "Stranger \'ereabouts, sir?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m on a walking tour," said I. "Just spent a night in Birming\'m. Saw\r\nyou chaps in a rum sweat over something, thought I\'d have a dekko.\r\nDashed sleek-lookin\' car, what?"\r\n\r\n"Ar," said the constable, observing my boots. They were stout and old,\r\nthe very thing for a walking tour. "You know anything about motors,\r\nsir?"\r\n\r\n"Me? Lord, no," said I. I then giggled, which pained him visibly. "I\r\nwouldn\'t touch one. Cousin owned one, name of Algy; cousin, you know,\r\nnot the car. Turned over in a treacherous manner and simply squashed\r\nhim like a bloomin\' bug. What\'s up with this one?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe monsters were scrutinizing me intently. I told myself that I\r\nneedn\'t be afraid of their inspection: in addition to my quite ordinary\r\nfeatures, which could scarcely have been described in much detail by\r\ntheir compatriot who had seen me, I was at the moment wearing the\r\nshell-rimmed spectacles which I ordinarily used only for reading, being\r\nfar-sighted as an eagle. I had put them on a few moments before, just\r\nin case.\r\n\r\nAn alien said, leaning his human form toward me, "We think it may be\r\nthe Manchester Slasher\'s."\r\n\r\nIf he thought to startle me into betraying myself, he was disappointed.\r\nI fluttered my hands and bleated. "Gad! Not that murderer chappie? The\r\none who killed about ninety people up north?"\r\n\r\n"Twenty, sir." The alien appeared to relax. "Yes, it fits the\r\ndescription, all right." He turned to another. "Tom, you\'d best go\r\nand telegraph Manchester. Sam, you go with him and bring back another\r\ncouple o\' boys. We\'ll just lay us a trap."\r\n\r\nI walked all about the Jaguar, prodding her bonnet and peering at the\r\ndashboard gingerly. "Deuced mysterious affairs, motors," I said. "Don\'t\r\nsee how anyone can tell what gadget to push next."\r\n\r\n"We\'re a-going to lay an ambush for this \'ere Slasher, sir, if you\r\ndon\'t mind," said one of them.\r\n\r\n"Hear, hear," I said. "Chop the blighter, what? Pip him in the early\r\ncounties, right?"\r\n\r\n"There\'s liable to be trouble, sir," insinuated another.\r\n\r\n"Rather," I yammered. "Oh, rather."\r\n\r\n"We\'d like to get ready now, _if_ you please, sir."\r\n\r\n"Oh, absolutely. Carry on. Lay a snare for the wretched person, lads,"\r\nsaid I heartily.\r\n\r\n"You\'d better leave now, sir," said the constable firmly. "Before\r\nthere\'s trouble, you know. Wouldn\'t want to get hurt."\r\n\r\n"Heavens, no," said I. "I say, officer, could I just sit in that seat a\r\nmo\'? Give one something to boast of, what?"\r\n\r\n"No, sir. There may be fingerprints in the thing."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"I won\'t touch a bally thing," I assured him, and as there was no one\r\nwithin six feet of me, I hopped in behind the wheel. At once they all\r\nshouted angrily; but there was no suspicion of me yet. It is the firm\r\nbelief of the lower-middle classes that anyone who bleats and says\r\n"bally" and "dashed" is a regular Bertie Wooster character and as\r\nharmless as a sheep, although somewhat less attractive. "Come out o\'\r\nthat, sir!" yelled the constable.\r\n\r\n"Just want to get the feel of it, you know," said I reassuringly. "Want\r\nto tell old Algy I sat in what\'s-his-name\'s seat."\r\n\r\n"I thought you said Algy was killed in a wreck."\r\n\r\n"That was Algy Witherspoon, my cousin," I told him reproachfully,\r\nsecretly extracting the ignition key from my pocket. "This is young\r\nAlgy Pope, my _other_ cousin. Regular ripping chappy on murders and\r\nall that, Algy is. Tell you all about Crippen, and whoozis that did\r\nin his maiden aunt over at that little place in Sussex, and all such\r\nbloody--pardon the expression--goin\'s-on. Likes birds, too. Sits about\r\nin swamps watchin\' them. Deuced rum feller."\r\n\r\nSuspicion must have dawned just about then. _They_ moved toward me,\r\nwhile the humans still hesitated. I slid the key in under cover of\r\nmy bent body, chortling something inane about the mythical Algy, and\r\nstepped on the clutch. A hand was laid heavily on my shoulder. The\r\nJaguar leaped backwards at the same instant, hit someone who reeled\r\naway with a scream, rocked crazily over the rubble and struck the\r\nroad. I twisted her madly around, waved my hand in an appropriately\r\ncavalier-like manner, and sped off south-eastward on the great road\r\nthat leads to London. Shouts of rage followed me. I patted the Jaguar\'s\r\nwheel. "Everything\'s all right, baby," I said. "Old Will is back. It\'ll\r\nall be all right now."\r\n\r\nI devoutly hoped that it would be.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\n\r\nIt is a hundred and fifteen or twenty miles from Birmingham to London.\r\nHaving gambled the fate of the world on a silly trick, and won back my\r\ntwo-seater from the very hands of the law and of the usurpers, I was\r\nwonderfully bouyed up; and decided to go down to my gang\'s headquarters\r\nand tell them all the new developments. I was aching to talk to\r\nsomeone ... preferably Marion.\r\n\r\nIn half an hour I had left Birmingham and then Coventry far behind\r\nme, and was feeling pretty safe, as there had been no signs of\r\npursuit. Then, just as I roared into some cursed little hamlet along\r\nthe route--I don\'t even know its name--a great black motor dashed\r\nout of a lane ahead of me and blocked the way. I saw it was crammed\r\nto the roof with _them_; knew that this was no accidental barrier,\r\nbut a contingent of the enemy, either lawful or of the misbegotten\r\nunderground of the beasts; and without pausing ran the Jaguar up over\r\nthe curb, squeezed through between their car and the wall of a shop,\r\nrocketed on two wheels back into the road and trod the accelerator down\r\nto the floor. The black job was after me in a flash. We howled through\r\nthat hamlet like a pair of greased lightning bolts.\r\n\r\nThey gave me only a few bad minutes: when we hit the open road I drew\r\naway as though--to coin a stunning simile--they had been standing\r\nstill. But even when their dust was no more than a puff on the horizon,\r\nI gnawed my lips and worried. My course was known, and the telegraphs\r\nand telephones would be crackling far in advance of me. Yet doggedly,\r\nand perhaps rather stupidly, I held to this main road until I had come\r\nnearly to St. Albans, for I could eat up the miles so swiftly on decent\r\npaving that it gave me the illusion of outrunning my enemies. At last,\r\njust before the old cathedral town, I turned off and lost myself in the\r\nnetwork of country byways.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEvening was closing in when at last I rolled the black lass to a\r\nhalt at a garage in the south of London. The owner was an old mate\r\nof mine with whom I\'d seen a lot of action in the war. What lies I\r\ntold him don\'t matter: suffice it that in three minutes the Jaguar\r\nwas stowed in a dark corner of his big shed, and he had contracted to\r\npaint her a deep red hue by next afternoon ... and to keep quiet about\r\nher. Gladstone in hand, I then set out for The Gray Gander. I told\r\nmyself that (a) I would be less conspicuous there than at the toney\r\nGloucester Club or the exclusive Albany, (b) although three of my men\r\nwere billeted at the latter place, Alec Talbot was the most able of\r\nthe whole band, despite his single arm, and he was at the inn, (c) I\r\ndid not want to be seen by any of the aliens who knew me--I hardly\r\nrealized why, but I had the creepy feeling that _they_ would somehow\r\npenetrate my secret--and on the single occasion when I had visited the\r\nGander, I had seen none of the beast-folk. Finally I admitted to myself\r\nthat these reasons were so much rot, and actually (d) Marion Black was\r\ndrawing me like an irresistible whirlpool draws a chip of flotsam.\r\n\r\nI went up to Alec\'s room, closed the door behind me, and fell on his\r\nbosom. He beat me on the back and gurgled wordlessly. I beat him on the\r\nback and sputtered idiotically. It was a grand reunion.\r\n\r\n"Where\'s Marion?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll get her." He dashed out and brought her back. When she came into\r\nthe room, lighting it up like a sunburst in a cavern, I took her in my\r\narms and kissed her long and well.\r\n\r\n"Marion, will you marry a poor devil who loves you in a humble but most\r\npassionate manner?"\r\n\r\n"After one kiss?" asked Alec blankly. "Just _one_ kiss?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly," she said. "That can be remedied."\r\n\r\n"Oh, Lord, not immediately," groaned Alec, as we began to do so. "Let\r\nhim tell us where in hell he\'s been for seventeen years. Let him\r\nrelieve my mind."\r\n\r\nI ended the second kiss with a splutter. "Good God! I can\'t ask you to\r\nmarry me, dearest. I--come and sit down--I\'m a murderer."\r\n\r\n"You can\'t call it murder, son, to chop an inhuman monster," said Alec.\r\n\r\n"But I\'m wanted by every policeman in the Kingdom. You see, I\'m the\r\nManchester Slasher."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI don\'t know what reaction I expected of Marion ... the pale cheek, the\r\nindrawn gasp, the expression of loathing and fear ... as a matter of\r\nfact, she clapped her hands and laughed.\r\n\r\n"You owe Geoff ten bob, Alec!" she cried.\r\n\r\n"Huh?" said I.\r\n\r\n"Geoff bet Alec ten shillings that you were the Mad Ghoul. He said--"\r\nshe became serious--"he said that one just couldn\'t give a man the\r\npower to see such nightmares as you\'ve been seeing, and expect him to\r\nkeep a cool head and not strike at them. He said he had wild bursts of\r\nfury himself when he thought of _them_, and knew if he could see them,\r\nhe\'d start a reign of terror."\r\n\r\n"I thought you\'d draw back with abhorrence," I said.\r\n\r\nShe threw her arms around me. "Oh, Will, poor old Will! My Uncle\r\nGeordie was a big game hunter, and I think he was a much more\r\nreprehensible character than you. After all, darling, the beasts you\'re\r\nstalking are far worse than any innocent old family-man of a lion."\r\n\r\n"Say," put in Alec, "something\'s been puzzling me. Why haven\'t the\r\ncoppers spotted the license of your Jaguar? It\'s famous, you know--on\r\nthe wireless every hour these days."\r\n\r\n"Oh, my dear chap! I stole a set of plates off a big Daimler before I\r\never left London. You\'re dealin\' with a hardened crook." I told them\r\nhow I had rescued her from the hands of the enemy in Birmingham. "It\r\nwas the serial numbers on her innards that worried me. Except for them,\r\nthough, she couldn\'t be traced to me." I kissed my girl again. Her lips\r\nwere like a drug, that drew me back again and again for larger doses.\r\n\r\nAlec clucked his tongue. "Most un-English!"\r\n\r\n"See here, chum: you trot out and collect the lads. Have \'em come here\r\nunobtrusively by ones and twos, and we\'ll have a council of war."\r\n\r\n"Oh, all right, if you don\'t want an appreciative audience to make\r\nfunny remarks at appropriate places." He slapped on his hat and went\r\nout, while I returned to Marion\'s embrace. For a little while I could\r\nforget the whole abominable race of beast-people, the dire venture\r\nbefore me, and everything else except the incredible fact that she\r\nreturned what I had always considered my hopeless love.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was grand to see my half-dozen sub rosa crusaders gathered together\r\nagain, sitting expectantly on sofas and chairs in Alec\'s room, watching\r\nme with friendship and love. What a tonic those comradely faces were! I\r\ndrank a silent, sentimental toast to them, and began my yarn.\r\n\r\nFirst I told them of Arold Smiff, the cheap, crooked, gin-soaked\r\nlittle man, who had taken his last bath in 1922; the man who could\r\nsee the usurpers as well as I could. That roused them to gleeful\r\nvociferance, which I squashed with a bark. "Quiet, will you! I\'m half\r\nstarved--haven\'t had a bite since breakfast. I want to get this done,\r\nso I can go and eat a good dinner.\r\n\r\n"You know that when I left you I could see just one dismal\r\npossibility--a long campaign of slaughter, slaughter, slaughter. But\r\nwhen I met Arold, a plan grew up in my mind--"\r\n\r\n"Like a lovely flower in a swamp," murmured Geoff. "Sorry. Pray\r\ncontinue."\r\n\r\n"The whole plan," I growled, "is about nine-tenths sheer bluff; but I\r\nthink it may work. Here it is: first, I travel around the country and\r\ncollect a hundred names; the names of usurpers whose human shells have\r\nhad more or less spectacular careers. Not those born to the purple,\r\nbut those who\'ve come up like rockets, self-made men who\'ve climbed\r\nto posts of importance in politics, the law, and elsewhere. I\'ve\r\nseen a number of big shots of that sort who are nothing really but\r\nrobots moved by slimy misshapen blobs ... and I\'ve deduced (pardon the\r\nHolmesian expression) that the important members of their loathsome\r\nbreed are probably those who rise to take over important positions in\r\nthis world. That allows \'em to protect and to advance their secret\r\ncause."\r\n\r\n"How?"\r\n\r\n"By passing certain laws, and--well, here\'s an example. One of them\r\ncommits some crime, perhaps inadvertently. _They_ don\'t want him to get\r\nchucked into prison, where he\'d be no use to them in furthering the\r\nbirth rate. So a were-policeman, to coin a name, will let him escape;\r\nor a were-judge will set him free. Get the poisonous subtlety of it?\r\nThey work themselves into posts where they can help each other to the\r\ntop of their bent. Even on the lower levels, they\'re often bartenders\r\nand hotel-keepers, who can pass quick word of developments, and so\r\nforth. It\'s as if a lot of Nazis had become lawyers and judges and\r\nM.P.s here during the late fracas, and from their exalted seats had\r\nprotected whole battalions of lesser spies when they ran afoul of the\r\ncops."\r\n\r\n"I see," said the Colonel. "That\'s logic."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"So it stands to reason that, if I want to put a great big crimp in\r\ntheir plans, I have to chop a slice off the top of their organization,\r\nrather than out of the bottom. I slew a score of \'em while I was the\r\nManchester Slasher, but those were common low folk whom I can\'t see\r\nas especially important to the general plan of the usurpers. They got\r\nvery peeved about me, but it was nothing to the way they\'d have acted\r\nhad I murdered twenty judicial were-people, or twenty husks of Members\r\nof Parliament. My score of twenty lower-case aliens might have been\r\naccidental, but twenty upper-crusters wouldn\'t be. And a hundred will\r\nmake them sit up and scream like hell.\r\n\r\n"You can\'t hire decent men to commit pointless assassinations, so of\r\ncourse I was handicapped until I met Arold Smiff. In fact, I never even\r\nthought of _hiring_ killers, until that night when I found that he\r\ncould see \'em too. Then the dawn flashed up. You _can_ pay professional\r\nrogues to commit murders, and no questions asked. So I deputized Arold\r\nto go out and collect a hundred scoundrels for me: the most reliable\r\nriffraff available, men who would, as he says, do in their old mothers\r\nfor a chew of tobacco. He\'s to pay them ten pounds apiece in advance,\r\nwith a promise of ten more when the business is done. Then, on a\r\ncertain night, and within a period of a few hours, they\'re to strike\r\nall over England--and slay these usurpers I\'ll have collected in my\r\nlittle black book. I understand that the underworld looks with disfavor\r\non a gentleman who collects a fee from a brother crook and then doesn\'t\r\ndeliver the goods, so I believe that most of these cutthroats will keep\r\nfaith and comply with his instructions."\r\n\r\n"How do you know this Smith won\'t do a bunk with your money?" asked\r\nDoctor Baringer cynically. "After all, a common thief--"\r\n\r\n"Not common," said I loyally. "He was Manny Jarman\'s right-hand man."\r\n\r\n"Who in blazes is, or was, Manny Jarman?"\r\n\r\n"Haven\'t the foggiest, John ... anyhow, Arold\'s been promised a lot of\r\ncash if he comes through; he\'s enthralled with the scheme, for after\r\nall he\'s been seeing these pink and crimson cacodemons since the early\r\n\'40s; lastly, and maybe most important, he knows I\'m the Manchester\r\nSlasher, and in his heart of hearts he\'s scared white of me. I felt no\r\nqualms at all about giving him eleven hundred quid."\r\n\r\nAlec whistled. "What a wad!"\r\n\r\n"Nearly all I had with me. It\'s a lucky thing some of us are loaded\r\nwith the ready, for this affair will cost like sin.\r\n\r\n"Then, after our pogrom, I call one of _their_ bigwigs and tell him to\r\nmeet me somewhere, with as many of his pals as he wants to bring. I say\r\nto \'em, \'Gents, you\'ve just seen a sample of my power. I\'ve reached out\r\nand obliterated a hundred of you, and they weren\'t any small potatoes\r\neither, but some o\' your finest. You realize I didn\'t snag \'em all by\r\nmyself; you\'re no village idiots. Those killings were done by a hundred\r\nchaps who can _see_ you. We struck at you all over England. In a few\r\ndays, another hundred of you get it--and some of you here now are on\r\nthat list. Couple days later, a hundred and fifty. Then two hundred.\r\nAnd we\'ll go on knocking you over regularly, working from the top down,\r\ntill there aren\'t any of your breed left here, and damned good riddance\r\nto filthy bad rubbish, too.\'\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Then I make my point. \'The nub of the thing is this: we want you to go\r\nhome. Pick up your kilts and vamoose. Beat it. This world isn\'t your\r\nworld, and by heavens you\'d better leave it while the leaving is good.\r\nOtherwise you\'re sunk. You can murder me now,\' I tell \'em generously,\r\n\'but there\'s plenty more where I came from. We\'ve perfected a system\r\nof warping our vision, and every day there are more of us who can see\r\nyou in all your ugliness. You can\'t beat us, because we\'re the best\r\nunderground organization that ever existed; and last night\'s massacre\r\nproves it. Till now you had no idea we even existed. Did you?\' And they\r\nhave to admit they didn\'t, because we don\'t."\r\n\r\n"How\'s that again, Will?"\r\n\r\n"Never mind. Anyway, then they think it over, and if we\'re in luck,\r\nthey decide the hell with it, and go home."\r\n\r\n"Leaving thousands of suddenly dead bodies, and incredible misery and\r\nsorrow among the friends of their puppets," said Geoff. "Oh, I\'m with\r\nyou. That\'s our whole objective, to rid ourselves of them. But it just\r\nhit me: what a lot of tears will be shed because we stepped into this\r\nmatter."\r\n\r\n"Shall we turn back now?"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t drivel. Only ... great merciful powers!" He drank from his\r\nglass, his hand shaking. "What will we wreak!"\r\n\r\n"Do you think it\'ll work, Will?" asked Marion quietly.\r\n\r\n"It\'s the biggest bluff of all time, darling. But it must work!" I\r\npaused. "There\'s one big factor. I\'ve hinted at it--here it is. We\'ve\r\nalways taken it for granted that when the human body dies, the usurper\r\nsimply goes back to his own world and begins again by getting himself\r\nborn into a new husk here. Jerry Wolfe figured that out originally,\r\nand we\'ve accepted his theory as gospel. But I submit that it needn\'t\r\nbe true. I don\'t know why I ever thought it was. How do we know what\r\nhappens to the monster when its hull of human flesh dies? How do we\r\nknow that it\'s only the puppet which perishes? Echo answers: _we don\'t\r\nknow_. Maybe the aliens are so bound to their false humans in this\r\ndimension that when the bodies die, the aliens must die too. What\'s so\r\nimpossible about that? After all, I\'ve told you that _they_ haven\'t\r\nany powers here except those of the bodies they inhabit. God knows\r\nwhat they can do in their own never-never land--but here, they\'re\r\nlittle better than so many natural-born people. And if they\'re that\r\nrestricted, that much identified with these puppets, maybe even their\r\ndeath is mutual."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI cleared my throat and took a drink of Scotch. "What happened when I\r\nkilled my first ogre? I went to a pub with Geoff and watched. Pretty\r\nsoon all the beasts sittin\' there started to flap their arms at one\r\nanother and turn different colors, and then a lot of them got up and\r\nleft. Aha, yes, I said to myself, the gorgon who got his has gone\r\naround behind the dimension-screen telling his chums about it. But\r\nI was arguing from a false premise. I was basing my ideas on what I\r\nbelieved to be a fact--yet that fact hadn\'t been proven at all, and\r\nprobably couldn\'t be proven this side of the silver land!"\r\n\r\n"Nor disproven," put in Alec.\r\n\r\n"But I can show you more to disprove it than you can dig up to prove\r\nit! What happens when I assassinate an alien? His human vehicle\r\ncroaks, while he himself swells up, turns a vivid horrid hue, and goes\r\npop. I submit that that looks more like the death of the alien itself\r\nthan a simple relegation to another region.\r\n\r\n"But I think _they_ can leave this world voluntarily, in which case\r\nthey go on living in their own. Lord knows how long a life expectancy\r\nthey\'ve got, over there. Maybe their time is different from ours, so\r\nthat the life of a man occupies no more than a fraction of a day in the\r\nsilver land; the theft of a body and the puppeteering of it from womb\r\nto tomb may be no more than an hour\'s vicious pastime for an alien."\r\n\r\n"I\'ve been thinking of that," said Geoff slowly. "I see this whole\r\nbusiness as a kind of fierce joke on their part, the slow and sly\r\nwinning of a world from its unseeing inhabitants. So perhaps they\'ll\r\nleave us if their lives are endangered--perhaps the joke may not be\r\nworth dying for."\r\n\r\n"All this," interrupted John Baringer testily, "is off the track, and\r\nreally no more than so much anthropomorphism. How can a man finally and\r\ndefinitely state _what_ are the purposes of a pack of inhuman beings?\r\nGo on, Will."\r\n\r\n"Well, to prove my new theory, Arold and I went out to a pub this\r\nmorning. We chose a frightful creature that was doing some solitary\r\ndrinking, and Arold, who\'s a whizzer of a lad at such matters, slipped\r\nsome slow poison into his liquor.\r\n\r\n"We watched him die, in the throes of agony, which was taken by all\r\nthe other denizens of the pub for simple indigestion or appendicitis.\r\nIt took him twelve minutes to die on the floor. I timed him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"The first three minutes he just writhed and changed colors and shot\r\noff angry sparks. He didn\'t know he was dying. I refer to the real\r\nentity, not the human part. Obviously he could feel the pain--they must\r\nbe able to, otherwise they\'d give themselves away by not making the\r\nhuman body jump when it\'s stuck with a pin, or sits on a hot stove, or\r\nwhatnot--you can see that. Well, after those three minutes, he seemed\r\nto wake up to the fact that this was it. Immediately he started to\r\nleave this dimension. It was the damndest sight I ever laid eye on. It\r\nwas like a man trying to haul himself out of quick-sand or heavy muck.\r\nThe beast wrenched upward, and jerked back, and did what in any normal\r\nbeing would be called shrugging his shoulders, for all the world as if\r\nhe was mired in something and wanted to get out. He had an awful time\r\nof it. Took him seven minutes and fifteen seconds. But at last he made\r\nit.\r\n\r\n"He oozed back and away from that twisting body on the floor. He stood\r\nthere, weaving and trembling, and I\'ll bet he was sweating, too, if\r\n_they_ do any such prosaic thing as sweat. He was entirely divorced\r\nfrom the husk--which lived, mind you, for more than a minute after\r\nhe\'d left it. But as soon as he\'d stepped away, he began to fade, and\r\nwithin three or four seconds he had vanished. At any rate, from my\r\nsight, and Arold\'s."\r\n\r\nI signaled to Alec to fill my glass. "That\'s why I think they die when\r\nI murder them: because of the time it took that critter to get loose\r\nfrom his puppet. He was scared. I could feel it, just as I can feel\r\ntheir ordinary waves of hatred and abominable passions. I could sense\r\nthe terror that filled that usurping bastard when he knew his husk was\r\ndying. He was purely scared to hell! Why? Why, unless he knew he\'d\r\ndie in both worlds if he couldn\'t rid himself of the shell before it\r\nperished?"\r\n\r\nI sighed. I was tired of this whole rotten business, and light-headed\r\nfrom the liquor on my empty stomach. I said, "It was what I\'d wanted\r\nto discover, why we poisoned the thing. I\'d recalled that every alien\r\ndeath I\'d seen, every one Jerry Wolfe saw, had been sudden and quick.\r\nI\'d realized that there were no data on slow deaths. I had to have\r\nsome. I got it. And I say, it\'s two to one _they_ die when the human\r\npart dies, unless they have plenty of time to get away from it. That\'s\r\nthe reason I think they\'ll leave us voluntarily, in a terrific hurry,\r\nwhen they think there\'s a whole crew of seers after \'em. They don\'t\r\nlike death any more than we do. Death\'s a queer, an uncanny thing.\r\nNothing that I know in nature likes to die."\r\n\r\n"But how did the aliens in those pubs of yours learn so quickly about\r\nthe killings, if the one who was killed--I mean the one--" Marion\r\nfrowned angrily--"if the one who\'d been relegated didn\'t go around\r\nbehind the scenes and tell them?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, dear girl!" shouted Geoff. "Messengers! Errand boys! The pony\r\nexpress of the silver land!"\r\n\r\n"That\'s it," said I. "That\'s what we never thought of. There must be\r\nplenty of _them_ who don\'t have human bodies at all, and move freely\r\nin their own dimension. What\'s to keep them from spreading the word to\r\ntheir comrades when one dies?"\r\n\r\n"Will, you\'ve hit it," the Colonel said. "They die here. It\'s probable,\r\nit\'s the best news yet, and if it\'s true, the bluff will work."\r\n\r\n"And now that I\'ve lectured you for an hour," I said, reaching for\r\nMarion\'s hand, "let\'s go out to the best restaurant within walking\r\ndistance, and have us a monstrous dinner. I could eat the proverbial\r\nhorse."\r\n\r\n"There\'s a place within two blocks where they give you a delightful\r\nPercheron steak," said Alec. "Let\'s travel."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XV\r\n\r\n\r\nWe ate a noble meal, sat long over the port, and came out into a deep\r\nJuly night canopied with a velvet turquoise sky in which the full moon\r\nwas riding high. We began to stroll along, talking of inconsequential\r\nthings; at the corner of Baker Street we split up, the others heading\r\nfor their own digs, while Alec and Marion and I went toward the inn.\r\nAs we passed beneath a lamp, I happened to glance over my shoulder.\r\nI do not know to this day whether I heard the footsteps, or sensed\r\nthe hate-aura of the beast, or perhaps was warned by the primitive\r\ninstincts that I had been developing through the past weeks of terror;\r\nwhatever caused it, I peered back down the street, and saw one of the\r\naliens following us. In the moonlight his human body was a dark form\r\nwithin an envelope of gray-blue mist.\r\n\r\nCoincidence, I told myself, angry to feel the sweat leap out on my face\r\nand palms. Nonetheless, I had a second look in a moment, just as the\r\nthing was walking under the lamp. I was rewarded by a strange sight: in\r\nthe flood of brilliant light I saw the puppet-body of the man all stark\r\nand clear and black, with the distorted form of the usurper about it\r\nflaming like a gaudy, transparent rainbow. It was an awesome spectacle,\r\nand sent the cauld grue racing up my backbone.\r\n\r\n"Alec," I hissed from the corner of my mouth. "I\'m going to stop in a\r\nminute. Take a good look at the bloke that\'s following us."\r\n\r\nThen we halted, and to give us an excuse, I took out a cigarette and\r\nlit it. The monster passed us. I thought the moon-grayed protoplasm had\r\na tinge of orange, which might indicate deep interest on the being\'s\r\npart, but I could not be sure. When it was out of hearing I said,\r\n"Anyone we know?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s a man from the restaurant," said Marion. "I noticed him looking\r\nat us as we ate. I thought he was flirting with me."\r\n\r\n"He gave you a damn hard stare, Will," said Alec.\r\n\r\n"Jerusalem!" I growled. "May be a coincidence, but--he\'s one of\r\n_them_ ... and I let him have a ruddy good look at me with that match!"\r\n\r\n"Could he have chased you from up north?"\r\n\r\n"No, no. Nobody followed me on the roads I took, son. But he and\r\nhis gang have my description." I threw away the cigarette angrily.\r\n"\'Course, I look like anybody else, but--"\r\n\r\n"You do not!" protested Marion. "You\'re very handsome, for one thing."\r\n\r\nAlec laughed briefly. "Well, maybe not that, Will, but you are\r\nindividual enough to be spotted from a good description."\r\n\r\nI was astonished. I had never thought so. I said, "We\'ve got to be\r\ncareful, then. Can\'t let him see us go into The Gray Gander."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe walked past our inn. The creature had disappeared. We went on a\r\nshort distance, and then I felt from the prickling of the hair on my\r\nneck that he was behind us again.\r\n\r\nSo began a game of cat and mice, which took us around corners and\r\nfleeing through alleys until at last I felt we had lost our silent\r\npursuer, and with a sigh we entered our tavern.\r\n\r\nI was awakened next morning, as I slept uneasily on Alec\'s couch, by\r\nDoctor John Baringer. He was puffing a pipe and grinning, but his eyes\r\nwere shadowed. "What\'s up?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"Everybody but you ... Will, there\'s a lashing of people about in\r\nBaker Street. I don\'t know why I noticed \'em, especially, but they\'re\r\nthere--just standing or sauntering, watching folk pass. It struck me\r\nqueerly, and Alec tells me you were followed last night."\r\n\r\nI started to dress hurriedly. "Do they look like policemen?"\r\n\r\n"I wouldn\'t say so," John mused. "They\'re just ordinary people, men and\r\nwomen both, standing in the sun. I can\'t say I like it."\r\n\r\n"Nor I. Are they concentrated near the inn?"\r\n\r\n"No. Within a block or two, though; I didn\'t begin to notice them till\r\nI\'d passed that restaurant where we ate last night."\r\n\r\nAlec came in. "You were right," he said to John. "By God, you were\r\nright! Forty or more, loitering ... Will\'s got to get out."\r\n\r\n"Will\'s got to lie low," snapped the physician. "They obviously don\'t\r\nknow just which building he\'s hiding in. He\'ll have to stop here until\r\nthe fiends give up."\r\n\r\n"Or at least until I can slip out at night," I said. "I say! Does it\r\noccur to you that the blighters now have _all_ our descriptions? We\r\nwere under observation last night for an hour or two! Call--"\r\n\r\nAlec was already pouncing on the phone. He rang through to the Albany,\r\nspoke ten words, and hung up with a long face. "The Colonel and Geoff\r\nare out. That means they\'re headed here. Too late! By the powers, we\'re\r\ndished!"\r\n\r\n"Maybe not," I said hopefully. "It could be coincidence."\r\n\r\n"And I could be the Lost Dauphin of France," said Alec gloomily. He put\r\nin a call to the Gloucester Club, got hold of Johnson, and told him to\r\nstay there till he heard from us. Then we waited, fretting, for Geoff\r\nand the Colonel: who came in blithely at ten.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe sat there, staring at one another morbidly, and argued and plotted\r\nfutilely through a dragging, hot hour or two. It was dreadfully hard to\r\ndecide on a plan, for now it was not a question of getting me out of\r\nLondon, but of finding a haven for all of us.\r\n\r\n"You\'ve got to collect a hundred names, if you hope to put that affair\r\nof yours through," said Geoff, chewing his pipestem. "You can\'t do that\r\nsittin\' here on your well-cushioned behind. Your chum Arold will be\r\ngathering his ragtag army in Brummagem, and you\'ve got to be ready to\r\nuse \'em. Look here! Why not we form a flying wedge and bust you out\r\no\' here right now? If they\'re not coppers--and they didn\'t smell like\r\nthe law to me when we passed \'em--they won\'t stop six of us in broad\r\ndaylight. Wouldn\'t dare. We\'ll take Alec\'s Rolls and ditch them. Then\r\nwe\'ll split up out of London, and you can put on a false beard and go\r\nit alone, if you like, or with one of us as sidekick. How\'s that sound?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t want to leap into it with both feet," I said. "Let\'s wait it\r\nout a bit. Maybe there\'s nothing in it. Maybe those people simply like\r\nto loiter in Baker Street. Maybe they\'re tourists, watching for Watson\r\nand Holmes." Dismal worries about the safety of Marion and my friends\r\nwere crowding my mind, preventing rumination.\r\n\r\nSo we argued until luncheon, which we ordered sent up to the room;\r\nafter which John went out to reconnoitre. He was soon back.\r\n\r\n"Still there! There\'s no mistake, they\'re watching for you, Will. I\r\ncouldn\'t be sure, but they may have noticed me, too." He scowled. "I\r\nhope not ... but they\'re clever as sin."\r\n\r\nSo, mainly because I was too unsure of myself to risk a bold move such\r\nas Geoff had suggested, we waited out the first half of the afternoon\r\nin the rooms of The Gray Gander. And nothing happened at all.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XVI\r\n\r\n\r\nAt three o\'clock or thereabouts, there was a knock at the door. We all\r\n"stared at each other with a wild surmise," and then Colonel Bedford\r\nresolutely flung it open. I was sitting on a footstool beside Marion\'s\r\nchair, in such a position that I could not see the stranger; who said\r\nin an oily, semi-cultured tone, "Good day, sir! I\'m making a survey--"\r\n\r\n"Step in," said our old soldier. "Step right in, sir."\r\n\r\n"Oh, no, I shan\'t bother you now, as I see you\'re having a bit of a\r\ngathering," said the unctuous voice. "I\'ll call round la--"\r\n\r\nAt this point the Colonel took him firmly by the lapels of his coat.\r\nAlec said afterwards that he never saw astonishment spread over a face\r\nso quickly. The man\'s mouth remained open in the middle of the word.\r\nThe Colonel, a man of action who had been bottled up too long, now\r\npicked up our caller and genially hurled him halfway across the room.\r\nHe slammed the door and turned the key, took it out of the lock and\r\npocketed it with a sinister grin. Then he, as well as most of the other\r\nlads, gave me a brief inquiring glance. I nodded. It was one of the\r\nbeast-folk.\r\n\r\n"\'Ere!" said that one, losing his pseudo-cultured accents. "Wot\'s the\r\nidear, sloshing a chap about!"\r\n\r\n"Stow it," said the Colonel. "We can see you, you know. No use keeping\r\nup a pretense, old troll!"\r\n\r\nGood for the Colonel!\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," said I. "For the record, you\'re a lumpy-looking piece\r\nof dough, greenish-orange, with a tinge of maroon at the moment because\r\nyou\'re mad. Madder\'n usual, I mean. You blighters live in a constant\r\nstate of ire, don\'t you?" Then I bellowed. "Stop him!" for the brute\r\nwas edging toward the window. Alec picked up a small chair and tossed\r\nit at his legs, and as he tripped and went to his knees, John tapped\r\nhim lightly but sternly on the head with a big glass ashtray. The alien\r\nsat cross-legged on the floor and glared wickedly at us, its true body\r\nquaking and shivering with wrath. "Well?" it said, through its robot\'s\r\nmouth. "Well?"\r\n\r\n"First off," said I, strolling over to it and keeping a careless\r\nattitude tight-drawn about a wildly beating heart, "you\'ll answer us a\r\nfew questions. Then ... we\'ll see."\r\n\r\n"I _don\'t_ think," said the other.\r\n\r\nIt was brutal, but entirely excusable. I picked him off the floor--he\r\nwas a slight, insignificant fellow--and hit him squarely on the nose.\r\nHe catapulted backwards with a howl. Alec thoughtfully kicked him in\r\nthe stomach.\r\n\r\n"The idea, you see," I told him, "is to hurt you badly, but to keep you\r\nalive. For a while, anyway. And if you try that again," I roared, for\r\nthe beast had given a kind of preliminary shrug of its real form in\r\npreparation for leaving this dimension, "if you make one more move like\r\nthat, I\'ll murder you instanter--and you\'ll die, both you and that poor\r\nshell of yours. Won\'t you?"\r\n\r\nIt nodded sullenly. Its great amorphous being settled down into itself\r\nquietly, as the human massaged his stomach.\r\n\r\n"Whereas," I went on, "if you\'re good, and answer a few queries,\r\n_maybe_ I\'ll let you go back into the silver land of your own free\r\nwill, before I slay that husk you\'ve appropriated."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt watched me for a while, speculating. Then it said hoarsely, "Which\r\nof you is Robert Hood of Manchester? You?" pointing at me.\r\n\r\n"That\'s right, chum."\r\n\r\n"How did you find him?" asked Geoff. "How\'d you follow him?"\r\n\r\nThe brute turned its marionette\'s head toward our blind companion,\r\nsneered, and said nothing. I would not have this draff, this\r\nother-world swine, sneering at Geoff; I lashed out and knocked him\r\ngalley-west. Sniveling, he crawled up onto a straight-backed chair and\r\nsat there, peering round at us until his eyes lit on Marion.\r\n\r\n"\'Ere, miss," he whined, "you won\'t see \'em beat a poor chap to death,\r\nwill you? I\'ve done you no harm...."\r\n\r\nI was proud of my girl then. I had been afraid our battering of the\r\nbeast would set her teeth on edge; but she leaned forward and spat\r\ninvective into its face. "You foul, filthy spawn of a Gadarene hog! I\'d\r\nsee you sliced to fringes, and laugh for joy!"\r\n\r\nIt sank back and regarded the carpet bleakly.\r\n\r\n"How\'d you follow the Slasher?" asked Geoff again.\r\n\r\n"We all had his description. It was known he was in or near London.\r\nThen he was seen in a restaurant nearby. Our comrade lost him in\r\nBaker Street. We\'ve been searching ever since." The voice was now too\r\nexpressionless even to be called cold. "The others will find you. It\r\ndoesn\'t matter what you do to me."\r\n\r\n"Aha," I snapped, "except to _you_! We can feel your fear, you know."\r\nIt was true; he was loathsomely afraid. It gave me a good feeling, one\r\nof renewed confidence, to realize afresh that the usurpers were not\r\nomnipotent godlings, but beings who, like any others, could know fear.\r\nAgain I thought I saw the thing pull himself up surreptitiously, like a\r\nman caught in the mire; and again I slapped his head sideways till his\r\njaws grated. He stopped it.\r\n\r\n"Next," said the Colonel, "what are you doing here? Your race, I mean.\r\nWhat d\'you want with this earth? It isn\'t yours, damnit."\r\n\r\nThe beast looked at him. Then it laughed. Somehow it managed to get\r\na shade of the horror of its own being into the vocal chords of the\r\npuppet, and the laugh was icy. It did not answer.\r\n\r\nSo the Colonel and Alec and I worked it over. We formed a triangle,\r\nlike bullies persecuting a small boy, and threw it from one to the\r\nother, not really injuring it, but slapping its face and pummeling it\r\nuntil it shrieked hysterically. Then we let it sink to the floor, and\r\nwe tried again.\r\n\r\n"_What are you doing here?_"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI had been afraid that we would never find this out, or that, if one of\r\nthem told us, we would not be able to understand; perhaps the concept,\r\nthe point of view, would seem as wild and bizarre and incredible as\r\n_they_ themselves. But as it began to speak now, I found that its\r\nmotives, those of all its uncanny race, were as plain and nearly human\r\nas could be.\r\n\r\n"We found your land by accident," it said, nursing its head in its\r\nhands and speaking without inflection or accent. "I do not know how\r\nlong ago it was by your standards. I think a long time. One of our\r\npeople by a mischance of a kind I cannot describe in the words of your\r\nlanguage was born into your dimension in conjunction with an infant\r\nof your race. When you are all dead, and we are the sole owners of\r\nboth our dimensions and yours, and write history books here for our\r\namusement even as you have done for your own, that chance birth will\r\nbe hailed as joyfully and reverently as you hail the--discovery of\r\nAmerica."\r\n\r\n"Dashed if I hail _that_ reverently," murmured the Colonel. "Bloomin\'\r\ncolonials ... go on."\r\n\r\n"I wonder if you can imagine with what delight our people greeted the\r\ndiscovery? How far can you see into our plane?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI saw no harm in answering that. "Not far. Just a background of\r\nsilver-blue lines at an angle."\r\n\r\n"That is it. A silver land." Evidently they had the same color\r\nperception as we; a surprising but not wholly unthinkable fact.\r\n"Nowhere is there color or change of form or beauty, save in our own\r\nbodies. Your earth burst on our ken with such a wealth of beauty and\r\nsuch opportunities for pleasure as we had never dreamt of. At once\r\nwe began to infiltrate, in the guise of normal humans; at first only\r\nby the route of births stemming from that original accident, then\r\nafterwards by births regulated and controlled from our plane, by\r\nmethods you could not comprehend, which once discovered freed us from\r\nthe necessity of waiting endlessly to be born into a body that had\r\ndescended from that original fortuitous \'sport.\' I believe that in\r\nterms of your space-time continuum, this discovery of ours has been\r\nquite recent."\r\n\r\nI grew pale and cold at his words.\r\n\r\nFor--if true--this meant that the beast-folk could make a wholesale\r\ninvasion of our dimension at any time! The brute saw me, and laughed\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n"Exactly. You are beaten. Indeed, you never had a chance, but now you\r\nhave less than none. We are an advance guard, who have prepared the way\r\nfor all the others of our race who will one day inhabit bodies on your\r\nplane. We have felt you out, tested your power to resist--which has\r\nbeen practically nil, my friend, with the exception of your own feeble\r\nand haphazard efforts--and spread out over this island until we are\r\nmore numerous than you can imagine. But with the new method of coming\r\nin, there is no longer a need for infiltrating into high offices and\r\nkey government positions, as we have so laboriously done before; for,\r\nmy friend, D-Day is at hand."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe folded his arms and chuckled once more, icily, hideously. "Quite\r\nsoon now, we will come into this dimension in one great wave that will\r\nobliterate your race as though the stars had never shone upon it at\r\nall! Every birth in the world shall be one of our robots--and then,\r\nno matter how you struggle and fume and plot, your people are doomed!\r\nThen, no matter how hard you fight, you will lose, for your species\r\nwill ultimately die of old age!"\r\n\r\nIn the silence that followed this burst of ghoulish amusement, I heard\r\nsomeone who was going by in Baker Street whistling the Bronze Horse\r\nOverture, one of my favorites ... oddly, irrelevantly, I considered it\r\na good omen, and was cheered. Then Geoff spoke.\r\n\r\n"Just put my hands on his throat, somebody, will you?"\r\n\r\n"Not yet, son. Go on, ogre. Why will you murder a whole race? Just for\r\namusement? Just so you can see colors and pretty forms?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. That simple a reason. And because we hate you, for that you have\r\ninherited a world of such perfections and do not appreciate it. To see\r\ncolors, to revel in sounds and scents and tastes we had never imagined;\r\nto feel the vicarious ecstasy of these robots in acts you take for\r\ngranted--acts of feeding, of drinking, of viewing and touching, of sex,\r\nwhich we do not have in our proper forms in any fashion whatever. We\r\nenvy you, and hate you. We want your world, even if we must take its\r\ntactile delights vicariously--which is not so second-best as it sounds,\r\nfor these robots are in a sense ourselves as much as our own bodies\r\nare. You who are born to this wondrousness--can you claim you properly\r\nappreciate it? Or will you admit that you have held it lightly and\r\nunthinkingly for as many generations as you can count?"\r\n\r\n"Well, I\'ll be a devaluated pound," gasped Alec. "Will you listen to\r\nthe conceited son-of-a-bitch!"\r\n\r\n"Another question," I said to the beast. "How do--"\r\n\r\nIt was done almost before I could blink. He made a sudden break for the\r\nwindows, one arm raised to smash the glass so that he could shout down\r\nto the street. Two feet short of his goal he ran into Alec\'s good right\r\nhand, swung round like the head of a short-hafted axe. He dropped with\r\na crash.\r\n\r\n"No use inspecting the body," I said. "His real shape blew up like a\r\npaper bag and went blam. I guess you broke his neck. He\'s dead."\r\n\r\nGeoff stood up and said matter-of-factly, "Well, we\'d best be going,\r\nwhat? If someone will just find my pipe for me, I\'m ready."\r\n\r\n"Wail till I toss a few things into my purse," said Marion. "Can\'t\r\nexpect a gal to flee without a lipstick, can you?"\r\n\r\nI stared at Alec, who nodded. It was time for us to be on the wing.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XVII\r\n\r\n\r\nAfter three or four minutes of stuffing useful things into our pockets\r\nand a couple of overnight bags, we went downstairs to the ground floor;\r\nturning toward the back door, we ran smack into a sentinel of the\r\nusurpers. He wavered, then stepped aside as we strode toward him. I did\r\nnot want to make a scene in The Gander, so waited until we stood in the\r\nlane behind the inn before I told them we had been seen.\r\n\r\n"Never thought we wouldn\'t be," said the Colonel. "Where\'s the garage,\r\nAlec?"\r\n\r\nIt was directly opposite the rear of the inn. We went in and,\r\nunmolested, packed ourselves into the great red Rolls. "Whither?" said\r\nI, taking over the wheel.\r\n\r\n"The Albany. I\'ve guns there we\'ll need before we\'re much older."\r\n\r\n"Then to the Gloucester," said Alec, "for Johnson."\r\n\r\nI swung out into the lane and nearly ran down an alien, who leaped\r\nsqueaking out of the way. Now they knew what our car looked like. I\r\ndidn\'t care. We seemed to be in over our heads already.\r\n\r\n"Do you know that in an hour or two we\'ll be much-wanted fugitives from\r\nthe horrid vengeance of Scotland Yard?" I asked as we reared downtown.\r\n"We left a corpse on the floor of Alec\'s sitting room, with enough of\r\nour gear lying around to identify us all. My God! We\'re acting like a\r\npack of heedless cretins. We should have stayed and made a plan."\r\n\r\n"Hark to the Manchester Slasher!" shouted Geoff. "Why, my dear old\r\ncloth-head, the late lamented\'s buddies would have been on us in force\r\nin less than two ticks. Have you forgotten that somewhere in their\r\ndimension, at a spot approximating the location of Alec\'s flat, there\'s\r\na dead beast-critter? Their pony express would ha\' found him first\r\nthing. We had to run. And I didn\'t hear you objectin\', when we snatched\r\nup Marion\'s intimate garments and Alec\'s dirty socks, to doing a bunk."\r\n\r\n"My mind seems to be running ten minutes behind time," I said, skirting\r\na corner and just missing a little old lady.\r\n\r\n"Also there\'s this," put in the doctor. "We could never have gotten\r\nrid of the body, but _they_ could, and I believe they will. They know\r\nnow there\'s at least half a dozen of us in this business. Do you think\r\nthey\'ll want us brought to trial? Granted that our story would sound\r\nlike half a ton of wet fish ... would they want it spread on the front\r\npages? After all, they can tell by our looks we\'re solid citizens. We\r\n_might_ get some credence from the police--the last thing _they_ would\r\nwant. I think they\'ll quietly haul away that body, and set out on our\r\ntrail by themselves. The time for worrying about the law is over, as\r\nI see it. There\'s too many of us. It wouldn\'t be like hauling up just\r\none ripper with a mad story; it would mean publicity in every paper in\r\nChristendom--will _they_ risk that?"\r\n\r\n"Good for you, John," I said. "You\'re right. It\'s them and us now."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe drew up at the Albany. Leaving Geoff and Marion in the car, the four\r\nof us hurried to the Colonel\'s rooms and began a systematic collection\r\nof weapons, even including a set of ancient Khattar daggers and a\r\ncouple of pig-sticking spears which were part of a collection Bedford\r\nhad made in India. Into a Gladstone we stuffed bottles of brandy and\r\nwhisky, a first aid kit, such items of clothing as we\'d need in our\r\nflight, and what looked like seven years\' supply of ammunition. Down\r\nagain and through the lobby we went, trying to look like eccentrics\r\nwho habitually carried sporting rifles, elephant guns and pig-sticking\r\nlances under our arms when we ambled through the city; piled the stuff\r\nonto the floor of the tonneau, wedged in once more, ran down to the\r\nGloucester to get Sergeant Johnson, and took the road out of London to\r\nthe east. As the sun was setting we left the last suburb behind, and\r\ncame to the quiet open countryside.\r\n\r\n"Where now?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"The castle?" suggested Geoff. "It\'s as good a hideout as any."\r\n\r\nSo, after a vote, we struck out for Exeter Castle.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XVIII\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was dark when we passed through Exeter Parva. So far as we could\r\ntell, there had been no pursuit; nevertheless I felt nervous and on\r\nedge, remembering what titanic forces were arrayed against us.\r\n\r\nThe elms and oaks and chestnuts whispered among themselves as we\r\nunloaded our gear and hauled it through the great iron-banded door to\r\nstack it in the empty hall. I was standing in the doorway looking at\r\nthe dark groves and the moors beyond, when Marion touched my arm.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t jump like that, boy! I only wanted to ask what you\'re gazing at\r\nso fiercely."\r\n\r\n"The trees. They\'re like so many ghosts ... darling, I feel as though\r\nwe\'d walked into the dim and haunted past. This might be Glamis Castle\r\nitself."\r\n\r\nShe seized my hand and for the first time in the whole adventure I knew\r\nshe was afraid. "I think it\'s a trap," she said. "Oh, Will, I can\'t\r\nsay anything to the others--after all, there\'s nowhere else to go--but\r\nI don\'t like this place!"\r\n\r\n"It\'s not what you\'d call cheerful."\r\n\r\n"It\'s a great box propped up with bait under it, and now that we\'ve\r\nwalked under it, it\'s going to drop over us. Don\'t listen. I\'m only\r\nscared. That awful man, this afternoon, telling us their damnable plan\r\nin that cool way--I feel like Peter Rabbit, nibbling on a cabbage leaf\r\nwhile the farmer cocks his shotgun."\r\n\r\n"Pass me one of those cabbage leaves, Pete," I said. "I\'m hungry!"\r\nWhich set her giggling, and broke the evil spell.\r\n\r\nLugging our weapons and bags, we followed the Colonel up the big curved\r\nstaircase and down the dank passage to our old quarters. We lit a lamp\r\nor two; the familiar furniture sprang out of darkness, and my gaze fell\r\nfirst on the table to which the Tower musket had once been clamped.\r\nThat seemed half a century ago. I dropped my pig-stickers and rifles on\r\nthe table. "Let\'s hustle up some food."\r\n\r\n"It\'s stacked in the next room," said the Colonel, who had been in\r\ncharge of our stores during the first residence here. "There\'s enough\r\nfor about three weeks."\r\n\r\n"I\'ll get dinner," said Marion.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll go down to the wine bins and bring up a few bottles," said\r\nJohnson. Luckily, Geoff\'s ancestors had laid down a noble cellar full\r\nof the finest potables.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe all began bustling around, Alec dusting, Marion clinking dishes in\r\nour makeshift kitchen, the doctor arranging chairs about the table, the\r\nColonel and I stacking weapons against the walls, and Geoff lounging in\r\nan armchair whistling a militant tune. We grew quite gay, laughing and\r\nchattering, until old Johnson came in with his pale face grown chalky.\r\nThe Colonel saw him first.\r\n\r\n"For God\'s sake, man, what is it?"\r\n\r\nJohnson sat down heavily, by which sign I knew he was terribly upset,\r\nfor he would never sit when the rest of us were standing. He passed a\r\nhand over his eyes. "I was going through the hall--downstairs, that\r\nis--and suddenly I felt as though someone were observing me. You know\r\nthe sensation, sir?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, yes."\r\n\r\n"Well, I looked about, and saw nothing at first, so thinking it was\r\nmy nerves, I went on to the cellars. I chose two bottles of wine and\r\na good brandy--" he held them out and automatically I took them--"and\r\ncame up again. Just as I stepped through the entrance to the cellars,\r\nI happened to glance toward the front door. There, looking in at me\r\nthrough the dirty glass of the window beside it, was a face. I--I can\'t\r\ntell you what a turn it gave me. The eyes seemed almost to glow, you\r\nknow, sir. It was horrible."\r\n\r\nInto the silence that followed Geoff said, "We\'ve had a ghost here for\r\nten generations, Johnson. The Stalking Man, they call him. I used to\r\nsee him frequently when I was a nipper. He\'s supposed to walk on the\r\nsouth terrace between sundown and cock-crow."\r\n\r\nJohnson stared wildly at him as though Geoff had sprouted two heads.\r\n"No, no sir," he said. "This wasn\'t a man. It was a woman."\r\n\r\n"What happened next?" barked the Colonel.\r\n\r\n"Well, sir, I\'m afraid I was so startled that I stepped back into the\r\nentrance-way; and when I had conquered my aversion and returned, she\r\nwas gone. I didn\'t go and look out the window as I should. I fear I was\r\nbadly rattled. I came straight upstairs."\r\n\r\nYou might have sliced the apprehension in that room with a blunt knife.\r\nNobody moved, except to turn their heads to one another with widened\r\neyes. I wet my lips then.\r\n\r\n"The barmaid from Exeter Parva," I said. "They\'ve identified Geoff from\r\nsomething he left behind, and sent the word down here to check on the\r\ncastle. It would occur to them at once, when they knew about Geoff,\r\nthat we might make for such a sanctuary. They\'ve sent the word to that\r\nfearful green-horned octopus, and it\'s hared out here to investigate.\r\nWe\'re pinpointed now, lads, like a covey of quail on an open marsh."\r\n\r\nColonel Bedford was holding a Mannlicher. He opened the bolt with a\r\nsnap. "Load up, my boys," he said. "Load \'em all up, and then let\'s\r\nhave some food. The condemned may as well eat a hearty meal."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XIX\r\n\r\n\r\nSurprisingly, we all slept very well that night. Each of us (save Geoff\r\nand Marion) took an hour and a half at sentry-go, roaming through\r\nthe monstrous old place peering out of windows and jumping at every\r\ncreak; but before and after my own tour of duty I slept dreamlessly\r\nand comfortably, and found in the morning that the others had done\r\nlikewise. We foregathered at the breakfast table, which was placed\r\nin the center of a broad cheerful beam of sunlight that lanced down\r\nthrough age-old panes of glass, and we ate tinned meat and biscuits\r\nwith honey and mugs of well-creamed coffee, with as excellent appetites\r\nas one could wish for.\r\n\r\nWhen the meal was done, Johnson picked up one of the long pig-sticking\r\nspears and hefted it, trying the balance.\r\n\r\n"Going to stab us a shoat, Sergeant?" asked Alec.\r\n\r\n"No sir. It\'s that I can\'t abide firearms, while fifty years ago I was\r\nrather good with one of these, if I may say so without boasting. A\r\nnumber of us used to go out on the veld and try our luck at riding down\r\nsmall antelope, on days when the Boers left us alone, you know, sir. I\r\nthink I could still wield one with the best of you young \'uns--begging\r\nyour pardon, I\'m sure, sir."\r\n\r\nThe Colonel bounced out of his chair. "Line up for weapons issue," he\r\ncried. "Who\'s tough enough to handle my elephant gun?"\r\n\r\n"Will Chester," said Marion, with a grim nod.\r\n\r\nI was then presented with the heaviest piece of Bedford\'s artillery\r\nand two pocketfuls of shells. Doctor John drew the Mannlicher and the\r\nColonel himself took a murderous old 450-400 with which he\'d once\r\nhunted big game. Marion had a light sporting rifle. Geoff and Alec, who\r\nstyled themselves the Hamstrung Brigade, could obviously not handle\r\nrifles; but Alec thrust two Colt .45s through his belt, and Geoff was\r\nallowed to wear a long hunting knife--"just in case." The Colonel\r\noutfitted each of us others with one or two revolvers apiece, and we\r\nparceled out plenty of ammunition. Even Johnson had to add a .22 target\r\npistol to his brace of spears.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Now then," said Colonel Bedford, "here\'s how I see it. We\'re in as\r\ngood a place as any for hanging on: the place is unburnable, and we can\r\nhold it against successive waves--first fighting on the ground floor,\r\nthen retreating to this one, hall by hall and room by room, and finally\r\nwhen things really grow hot we can get onto the roof and make a fight\r\nthere. We\'re far enough away from any settlement that the noise of a\r\nbattle won\'t carry except by a freak of the wind. We can have a nice\r\nprivate war."\r\n\r\n"But," interrupted Marion, "do we want a nice private war? I think we\r\nshould want publicity for it, because _they_ don\'t. D\'you see? I\'m for\r\ndragging the whole mess into the open."\r\n\r\n"And end in a loony bin," said Alec. "No, the Colonel\'s right as far\r\nas he goes: this is the place to make a stand, and since we know we\r\ncan\'t escape to anywhere in this island that\'ll be safe, we may as well\r\nstop here to make our fight. They aren\'t going to bring down a blooming\r\nbrigade to eliminate us, mind you; they\'ll think, \'Ha, there\'s only\r\nseven, we\'ll just send round a score or so to pip \'em.\' They don\'t know\r\nwe\'ve an arsenal here."\r\n\r\n"And meanwhile," said Geoff excitedly, waving his pipe, "Arold Smiff in\r\nBirmingham will be gathering _his_ crew. If we give him--how long would\r\nyou say, Will?"\r\n\r\n"Another couple of days, maybe. He\'s got to treat each of those thugs\r\nto a drink or two and sound him out before he hires him. It will take a\r\nfew days. Besides, he thinks he\'s got a week at least. I\'m supposed to\r\nbe meandering over England getting names. And I\'m afraid that scheme\'s\r\nout, too."\r\n\r\n"P\'raps, p\'raps ... well, say we give Arold a couple of days, and then\r\nphone him--from Exeter Parva, let\'s say--to bring his outlaws down here\r\na-whoopin\' and a-cussin\' in a bunch. How\'s that? They roar in, mop up\r\npractically all the usurpers in sight, then we catch a few of the\r\naliens and tell \'em. \'This is a sample. We can see you, so there\'s no\r\nuse your sticking. Scram!\' How\'s that?"\r\n\r\n"Dandy, dandy. Except for the little matter of getting out of here to\r\nphone Arold. What if we\'re surrounded?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, hell\'s tinkling bells! Where\'s your red Injun blood? But if you\r\nlike, one of us can leave now, before they arrive. He can contact\r\nArold, have him hurry it up, and in a day or two catch the besiegers in\r\nthe rear." Geoff was jubilant, and some of his fervor rubbed off on me.\r\nI said. "Right! We\'ll draw straws."\r\n\r\n"You\'re the logical choice, Will," said Alec. "You know this Smith,\r\nafter all. The plan is your pigeon. You go."\r\n\r\nThe Colonel was standing by the window, glancing out now and again as\r\nwe talked. He said, "One minute chaps. Come here."\r\n\r\nWe crowded to the window. He pointed down to the drive. Shortly we saw\r\na man run stooping across an open space in the old stone balustrade.\r\nThe substance of the alien body seemed to float about him like a flimsy\r\ncloak of many colors.\r\n\r\n"They\'re all along the front," said Bedford. "If they\'ve covered the\r\nback, lads--it\'s a bit late for our emissary to think of leaving."\r\n\r\nWe spread out over the house, peering cautiously out of windows at\r\nfront and back and sides. Then we gathered in the upper hall, as\r\ndisconsolate a band of crusaders as ever eyed each other with grim\r\nscowls.\r\n\r\nWe were entirely surrounded. The siege was on.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XX\r\n\r\n\r\nMarion and the doctor roamed the upper floor, watching developments\r\nfrom the windows; when the first rush came, they were to fire down on\r\nthe enemies\' heads. Geoff was ensconced behind an overturned table at\r\nthe head of the great staircase, so he could at least hear everything\r\nthat occurred. Alec, Johnson, the Colonel and I were the ground floor\r\ngarrison; we bolted off the east and west wings entirely, barricading\r\nthe doors thereto with piles of lumber from the cellars so that if the\r\naliens broke into those sections of the castle, it would avail them\r\nlittle. We had already carried a dozen armloads of bottles up to our\r\nquarters from the bins below us, and there seemed little we could do\r\nnow but wait, there in that echoing empty hall, until our foe took the\r\ninitiative. This happened about eleven o\'clock that morning.\r\n\r\nWe heard Marion\'s warning cry, and instantly sprang to our feet (we\r\nhad each been sitting below a window, trying to relax) and looked\r\nout. I was at the front of the house with Alec. I saw some fifteen\r\nor eighteen of the monstrous beast-folk come lumbering across the\r\nopen spaces between the house and the drive. I smashed a pane of\r\nglass in the mullioned window with my elephant gun and let fly at\r\nthe foremost surper. He caught the charge right in the belly, and\r\nwent heels-over-head backward to lie in a tangle of dark limbs and\r\nbody, above which the mortally wounded alien grew pale and flickered\r\nand went out with a sputter. I let off the second barrel at another\r\nand reloaded hastily, thanking the powers that I\'d taken this great\r\nshoulder-punishing gun rather than one of the lighter and less\r\neffective rifles; its load would stop a man even if the wound was not\r\nmortal, and I with my double vision was handicapped above my friends.\r\nIt was often difficult for me to locate the vital points in a running\r\npuppet, when the body about him was distending and wavering through\r\nhalf-a-dozen horrible shapes.\r\n\r\nI stopped another pair of them in as many seconds, then drew my\r\ntwo revolvers and began to fire first one and then the other,\r\nambidextrously, like Wild Bill Hickock in the films. I don\'t know how\r\nmany shots I wasted, but it was a bloody barrage.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThat first charge lasted no more than three minutes, I should judge.\r\nThey were taken quite by surprise, and comparing notes after, we\r\ndiscovered that they had not even bothered to have their own guns drawn\r\nwhen they began their attack. They must have pictured us crouching in\r\nterror, with bottles and chair legs for weapons.\r\n\r\nMarion came to the head of the stairs and called to us. We assured her\r\nof our safety; Geoff was growling to himself over not being able to\r\ntake a hand in the sport. Then the second wave came at us.\r\n\r\nThis time they were more cautious, and had automatics and target\r\npistols in their hands. We took toll of them with our rifles and then\r\nwith our handguns; when they withdrew again, they left at least a score\r\nof dead and dying husks on the ground around our fortress.\r\n\r\nJust to show them that we were the seers they thought us, and also\r\nto decimate the ranks of the ungodly, I picked off all those wounded\r\nrobots whose tenants were vacating, dashing back and forth from window\r\nto window to give the effect of half a dozen sharpshooters. I think\r\nthat gave them pause, for nothing else happened until well into the\r\nafternoon.\r\n\r\nAlec had a grazed cheek from which the blood was seeping, and Johnson\r\nhad been cut on the shoulder by flying glass, but otherwise we were\r\nstill intact.\r\n\r\n"What do they look like?" I asked Alec, as we stood together watching\r\nthe deserted drive. "I can\'t tell much from those crumpled corpses, and\r\nyou know they\'re so many dim shadows in misshapen sheaths of unearthly\r\ncoloring to me when they\'re alive."\r\n\r\n"Oh, they\'re--normal. People you\'d see anywhere, and never notice\r\n\'em. Small business men, maybe, or out-of-work clerks. Nondescript.\r\nCertainly they\'re not seasoned fighters."\r\n\r\n"It\'s occurred to me that a lot of _them_ must have got out of joining\r\nin the late world fracas, one way or another; through their bigwigs,\r\nyou know. I doubt they\'d care to go marching off to war in one of our\r\nlittle two-bit three-dimensional fracases, and I\'ll bet their ranks\r\nwere full of shirkers and slackers and dodgers and pseudo-conchies. So\r\nmaybe they have no experienced fighters!"\r\n\r\n"Those out there aren\'t," agreed Alec. "What duffers they looked,\r\ntrotting up to our guns!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was one more attack, about four o\'clock. This was a more\r\ncarefully planned affair, and by utilizing all the cover they could,\r\nand coming in from all directions, they managed to get right up to the\r\nwindows. When they did we retreated to the center of the hall, the\r\nwindows framed them into perfect targets, and after losing a dozen or\r\nmore they retreated in their turn, for the last time that day.\r\n\r\nAt dusk we deserted the ground floor and, barricading the stairs as\r\neffectively as we could, took up our posts on the upper floor. Sentry\r\nduty was apportioned, and after a good meal and an hour of desultory\r\ntalking we lay down to sleep as much of the night through as the\r\nusurpers would allow.\r\n\r\nMy watch was from three to four-thirty. I was prowling around the\r\nhalls, peering into each room as I passed, when above the night noises\r\nand the snoring of the Colonel I thought I heard an ominous creaking.\r\nOn tiptoe I went down the hall, past the stairwell that went down into\r\nsinister blackness, and fetched up some yards thereafter before a\r\ngaping square hole in the wall of the passageway. What the devil...! I\r\nturned the beam of my electric torch into it. It was another staircase,\r\nnarrow and steep, which I had not known existed. Without hesitation I\r\nstarted down its creaky old treads. The air was musty and smelled of\r\na thousand generations of mice. More through my skin than my ears I\r\ngot the impression that someone was descending these secret stairs in\r\nadvance of me.\r\n\r\nI drew out one of my guns, with a childlike thrilling of my pulse, and\r\nmuffling the torch\'s light with the fingers of my left hand so that\r\nonly a thin streak or two of brightness preceded my searching feet, I\r\nwent down.\r\n\r\nThe square door at the bottom was standing wide. Slipping through it,\r\nwith the torch now dark, I stood still and listened.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe moon\'s rays patterned the cold floor under the windows, and\r\nacross one of them I thought I saw a shadow glide. I swiveled my head\r\nquickly. Perhaps I had been mistaken. There was nothing there. The end\r\nof the room in which was cradled the massive black fireplace lay in\r\nimpenetrable gloom. Watching this, I felt the skin of my neck creep and\r\nthe hair bristle....\r\n\r\n_Something_ had moved in that murk, I could swear it. Something bigger\r\nand more ponderous than a body. I could not pin down the exact analogy\r\nI groped for: it was as if ... as if the wall had suddenly advanced\r\ntoward me, and then sunk back again. I husked through a dry throat.\r\nThis would not do. Despite the usurpers without, I had to risk a light.\r\n\r\nI shot the beam of the torch across the wall from corner to corner.\r\nNothing moved. I went to the cold fireplace--feeling the eyes of a\r\nmultitude of ghosts upon me as I moved--and ran the flash over it.\r\nI even knelt and peered up the gut of the chimney. Nothing. I found\r\nmyself shuddering. One more sweep of the torch around the vault of the\r\nhall, and then I ran (I admit it freely) for the secret door. Pulling\r\nit to behind me, I raced up the narrow steps and with pounding heart\r\nslammed the upper one also. I saw then that it was a swinging panel,\r\nthat looked much like any one of the other panels in the hall. This\r\nsecret must be a relic of the bad old days, when Exeter Castle was\r\nyoung and the nobility was riddled with treachery, intrigue, and evil.\r\n\r\nAfter two minutes of cogitation, I went and aroused Colonel Bedford. He\r\nlistened to my tale in silence. Then, "This might be serious," he said.\r\n"Let\'s wake the others."\r\n\r\nWe did, and in the short time before the early dawn of summer gilded\r\nthe east windows, we combed that castle from roof to cellars; but the\r\nincredible fact which we had uncovered remained, not to be dispelled or\r\nexplained by any means in our power.\r\n\r\nGeoff Exeter, our poor gallant blind Geoff, had disappeared....\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XXI\r\n\r\n\r\nI truly believe that that day was the longest and worst I ever managed\r\nto live through.\r\n\r\nThe aliens who ringed the castle did not attack in force: but they\r\nmaintained a kind of sullen, dangerous watchfulness over the place, and\r\nevery time one of us showed himself at a window, a rifle cracked and\r\na slug spread itself on a wall nearby or buried itself in the ceiling\r\nabove him.\r\n\r\n"What are they doing?" Marion asked me again and again. "Why are they\r\nwaiting?" And I could not tell her.\r\n\r\nThe night came, but our sleep was no more than an occasional leaden\r\ndoze which left us unrefreshed, with gummy aching eyes and minds gnawed\r\nby worry.\r\n\r\nWhere in hell was Geoff?\r\n\r\nHad they slipped in and abducted him, right out from beneath our noses?\r\nHardly. The doors and windows were still bolted.\r\n\r\nHad he left of his own free will? And if so, _how_? And why?\r\n\r\n"The place is haunted," Alec had said somberly at dinner; and in my\r\nheart I half agreed with him.\r\n\r\nThat night we had renewed our barricades at the head of the stairs, and\r\nkept our watches as before. About six in the morning I was starting to\r\ntear down the lumber once more when a hand was laid on my arm, and the\r\nColonel, his face gray and drawn, said, "Leave \'em, boy."\r\n\r\n"Why?"\r\n\r\n"Come and look out the window. They\'ve gathered. There must be two\r\nhundred if there\'s a one. We can\'t hold that great hall against them\r\nwhen they come. We\'ve got to make a stand up here."\r\n\r\nIt was true. The groves and the unkempt lawns swarmed with them, their\r\nloathsome bodies all gay and shining in the sunlight.\r\n\r\n"Still clerks and shopkeepers?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"No, this is a rather less appetizing lot. More like the mugs you\r\nwere always spying on in pubs," said Alec. "They look--well, pretty\r\ncompetent."\r\n\r\n"We\'ll give them a reception," said the Colonel grimly. "Spread out,\r\nfront and back, and fire into the brown of \'em when I give the word.\r\nEmpty your rifles and then your revolvers as fast as you can; the fools\r\nare bunched so that we can\'t miss. There\'s not a military man in the\r\nlot, I\'ll be bound."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI went to the farthest corner of the east wing, many rooms away from\r\nour G.H.Q. by the main stairwell: I swung open a window as gently as\r\npossible, then waited for the Colonel\'s signal. I imagined he would\r\nfire his 450-400. I was forgetting that for development of the lungs\r\nthere\'s nothing to compare with half a lifetime of commanding the\r\nsepoys of India. To say merely that he shouted "Fire!" in a stentorian\r\nvoice is like saying that the Last Trump will be rather loud. His\r\nbellow rattled the beams of oak in their stone sockets. Even the aliens\r\non the lawns turned to look in his direction.\r\n\r\nI thrust out the muzzle of my pachyderm blaster and let it speak twice\r\nin rapid fire; dropped it, threw down on the milling crew with my two\r\nColts, and picked off three more usurpers before they could gather\r\ntheir wits and make for the groves. When the guns were empty I counted\r\nseven bodies. If my friends had had as good luck, I thought exultantly,\r\nthe foe had lost more than thirty of their number! I found subsequently\r\nthat our total for the surprise attack was twenty-four or -five.\r\n\r\nThis decimation must have shaken them to their toes, for the morning\r\nwore on and no assault came.\r\n\r\nJohnson brought each of us a bowl of soup and a plate of biscuits at\r\nnoon. Staying at my post in the eastern corner, I watched the trees and\r\nthought of Geoff Exeter.\r\n\r\nCould that have been Geoff whom I followed down the secret stair\r\ntwo nights since? Certainly it was not one of _them_; and Geoff of\r\nall people would have known of its existence, for he had spent his\r\nchildhood here in the castle. If it was him, where had he gone from the\r\ngreat hall? And what had moved in the black shadows of the fireplace?\r\nHad Geoff been spirited away by ghosts? I could credit anything, after\r\nthese past months of hellish experience.\r\n\r\nAs I was chewing my last biscuit, firing broke out at the front of the\r\ncastle; first a single shot or two, then heavy volleys, as though all\r\nmy friends were engaged in it. I shifted from foot to foot, wondering\r\nwhat to do. Finally, after a searching look at the groves and lawns\r\nwhere nothing moved, I ran for the hallway.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMarion and Alec were shooting from the windows of our sitting room.\r\nI dashed in, said foolishly, "What is it, an attack?" and looking\r\nout saw line after line of the beast-folk advancing rapidly on the\r\ncastle, their numbers not bunched this time but spread out so that they\r\npresented more difficult targets. I judged them to be at least two\r\nhundred and fifty strong. "Shoot low," I snapped, even as I brought\r\nthe elephant gun to bear on a blue octopus-like brute and sent him\r\nsprawling. "Remember you\'re aiming downhill."\r\n\r\nThe thunder of a battering-ram smiting at the big door seemed to jar\r\nthe floor beneath our feet. It ceased in a moment, and I heard the\r\nColonel bawl, "They\'re in! Come to the stairs!"\r\n\r\nWe gathered there behind our lumber-and-furniture barricade, six\r\nagainst an army. We did not say anything coherent, I believe, but\r\ncontinually shouting encouraging noises to one another, we fired\r\nand fired until our weapons grew hot to the touch. The beasts were\r\nthronging the hall below us, converging on the stairs and tearing at\r\nthe mass of impeding obstacles which the Colonel and John had strewn\r\ndown the length of the steps that morning. It was at once a hideous\r\nand a thrilling sight. The monsters were swarming up at us, a foot at\r\na time, clawing at planks and barrels and broken chairs, hurling them\r\nback onto their comrades\' heads; none of them seemed to be firing at\r\nus, though in the heat of battle I may not have noticed if they had.\r\nIt looked to me as if they were too infuriated to bother with guns.\r\nLike so many enraged baboons, they wanted to get at us and tear us to\r\nbloody tatters with their hands and teeth alone. As they fought upward,\r\nthose in the fore exploded soundlessly, horribly, and quickly, like\r\nmulticolored bags of gaudy rubber stabbed with sharp knives, leaving\r\ntheir dead robots to roll and flounder to the bottom again. I had run\r\nout of ammo for the big gun; howling with a kind of mad glee, I blazed\r\naway into the thick of them with my twin Colts, putting my bullets into\r\nthe dark human forms within the hybrid monsters. The castle rocked and\r\nechoed with the fury of the fight. Cordite and spilt blood reeked in\r\nmy nostrils. One of the devils, a rhinocerous-brute with a towering\r\nivory-tinted "horn" that wobbled as he moved, came scrambling on all\r\nfours up over the mess of wreckage toward us; I took him for my very\r\nown, waiting until he was within a yard of me and then presenting both\r\nmy revolvers to his face and pulling the triggers.\r\n\r\nMy guns were empty!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBefore I could recover from my surprise, he had gathered himself--he\r\nmust have been an especially athletic fellow--and leaped straight\r\nfor me. I went down under his weight, flailing my arms wildly. I was\r\nunprepared for a scuffle and for a few seconds could do nothing to\r\ndefend myself properly. Before I had rallied, the body of the creature\r\nwent limp and sagged down onto me, while his true form flickered away\r\ninto nothingness. I struggled out from under him to see old Johnson\r\npulling back a bloodied pig-sticker. He grinned at me complacently.\r\n"Still a trace of the old skill left, Mister Chester!"\r\n\r\nThey were the last words he ever spoke. A volley crashed out below us,\r\nand he swayed and fell at full length, like an ancient tree cut at the\r\nroots. I knelt over him, and saw that he was dead.\r\n\r\nI peered over the railing, while feverishly loading my guns, and saw\r\nthat we were nearly done; for the aliens, sacrificing scores of their\r\nmen in that wild attack, had almost cleared the staircase. Now they\r\nwere pulling back the corpses and the last of the impeding furniture,\r\nand only our barricade at the top remained between them and our\r\ngarrison of five. Any of them who were in good shape and in the least\r\ndegree agile could clear this barrier with ease. I knew we were almost\r\ndone.\r\n\r\nNow there occurred one of those queer, inexplicable pauses that come in\r\nthe thick of the wildest battles, when the men of both sides seem to\r\ndraw back an imperceptible inch or two, cease firing and yelling, suck\r\nin a deep swift breath, and tauten their muscles for a final foray or a\r\nlast furious defense. The usurpers in the hall and on the stairs fell\r\nsilent as though by prearrangement; while we humans, as it chanced,\r\nwere all either loading or taking careful sights over our gun barrels.\r\n\r\nAnd in that comparative silence, broken only by the susurrus of heavy\r\nbreathing, we all suddenly pricked up our ears and listened. The pause\r\nlengthened, by a sort of unspoken mutual agreement between the two\r\nparties. I looked at the Colonel, and he gestured imperiously toward\r\nthe nearest room that faced on the drive. I flew into it, making for a\r\nwindow.\r\n\r\nBecause there had come to us the sound of many automobiles, driven at\r\nhigh speed down the country lane that led to Exeter Castle.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XXII\r\n\r\n\r\nBehind me I heard firing start up again, though not with any great\r\nvolume. Below me as I leaned out of the window I saw a number of\r\nusurpers come running out of the broken door to see what was happening,\r\nthen turn and go in again. My attention was not on them however, but on\r\nthe drive, where the first of a line of motors had already pulled up\r\nand stopped.\r\n\r\nIt was an old pre-war sedan. Its doors opened and six or seven men\r\nboiled out of it, staring at the castle and shouting as they moved.\r\n\r\nMen! Not were-folk, not monsters, but _men_!\r\n\r\nHad the sound of our fight carried to Exeter Parva? No, it could never\r\nproduce these fifteen autos, decrepit though most of them were. Exeter\r\nParva ran more to hay wagons.\r\n\r\nThen the riddle was solved. The second car, a battered Bentley, halted,\r\nand out of the front seat climbed a man I would have recognized on a\r\ndark night in a cellar.\r\n\r\nDear old drunken, amoral, faithful Arold Smiff! Smiff to the rescue!\r\n\r\n"At \'em, Arold!" I whooped. "Inside, son!"\r\n\r\nHe stared up at me, then waved joyfully. "General! Hoy, General!\r\nGawddam!" He motioned fiercely to his henchmen. "Come on, you\r\none-legged paralyzed barstids, earn your wack! Out arms and forrard!"\r\n\r\nGreat God, did ever such a motley army advance on such an unearthly\r\nenemy? It was like the thieves of Paris defending their city against\r\nBurgundy ... had that kingdom recruited its army from the swamps\r\nof Hell. From the line of cars swarmed a gang of shabby, dirty,\r\nswearing men, as tough and evil looking a mob as ever trod the soil\r\nof England. Spawned in the slums and reared on violence, every one of\r\nthem! Muggers, knifers, coshers, men with scarred faces and broken\r\nteeth, men fitting brass knuckles on their fists as they came, men\r\nsliding straight razors (the favorite weapon of our underworld)\r\nfrom their frayed sleeves and clicking open big clasp knives, men\r\ndrawing automatics for which you could have staked your life they\r\nhad no permits, men who were scarcely more than wild boys and men\r\nwho had grown gray and bald in crime; at once as undisciplinable and\r\nas effective a fighting troop as one could find anywhere. I think I\r\nscreamed encouragement to them as they came, for I was half-hysterical\r\nwith relief. Arold Smiff, miraculously, had come in time.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs they ran toward the castle I ducked inside and went to my friends,\r\nloading my guns as I moved. The aliens were still attacking up the\r\nstairs, but now they wavered as the vanguard of the thugs struck them\r\nfrom behind. All roaring hell broke loose.\r\n\r\nI saw plenty of action in the last war; I saw the slaughter of the\r\nNormandy beaches and the havoc wrought through France, Germany, and\r\nseveral other countries; but the goriest brawl I ever laid eye on was\r\nthe fight at Exeter Castle between Arold Smiffs hundred criminals and\r\nthe motley hordes of the silver land.\r\n\r\nWe were outnumbered, at the start, nearly two to one. But our crooks\r\nwere professional killers, used to the mechanics of murder, and the\r\nusurpers were not. The hall was jammed from wall to wall with a\r\nstruggling, howling, thrashing jam of fighters, so that often when a\r\nman was killed his body could not fall; conditions were thus perfect\r\nfor our knifers and gougers, throttling experts and razormen.\r\n\r\nThe aliens for the most part had turned from us to engage this new\r\nmenace. We tore away our barricade and charged down to mix it with\r\nthem. I caught a glimpse of Arold before I struck the level. He had\r\nan automatic in his right hand and in his left, one of those fearsome\r\nweapons used by the gangs in their private wars, called a "moley"--a\r\nlarge potato, stuck half-full of safety razor blades. When pressed\r\nagainst the face and twisted, it made a grisly instrument of torture,\r\nmutilation, and often death. I grimaced. These were wicked men who had\r\ncome to our rescue.\r\n\r\nWith our heavy Colts we blasted back the beast-men till we had cleared\r\na space at the foot of the stairs; standing shoulder to shoulder, we\r\nbellowed, "Rally! To us, to us, rally round!" and many of the rogues\r\nfought through the press to join us, so that shortly we were the\r\nnucleus of the battle. Bedford led a charge that smashed the center of\r\nthe enemy line and crumpled up the right wing as it returned. I saw\r\nJohn Baringer go down from a blow on the head; beat my way to him and\r\ndragged him to the relative safety of the big fireplace.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI was entirely out of ammunition by then. Sticking the pistols in my\r\nbelt for last-ditch use as clubs, I grappled with the human husk of\r\na big sprawling beetle-beast, throttled him, took away a butcher\'s\r\ncleaver he was utilizing, brained him with it and waded into the combat\r\nonce more. I was splashed with gore from boots to hair, my left arm was\r\nnumb from a crack on the elbow, I was whooping like a maniac, and felt\r\nmyself supremely happy. I would not have been anywhere else for ten\r\nthousand pounds sterling.\r\n\r\nI found myself next to Arold. I hugged him, and his muddy-crimson eyes\r\nsqueezed up with a grin. "General! Bloody fine scrim!"\r\n\r\n"How did you know to come here?" I yelled at him; but the tides of\r\nbattle flung us apart before he could answer. I knew, though. Nobody in\r\nthe world but Geoff could have brought him.\r\n\r\nI found myself engaged with a razorman of our own forces, and had to\r\nexplain who I was, in exceedingly rapid speech. Then I went hunting\r\nfor the Colonel, and found him dripping blood (someone else\'s) by the\r\nstairs. Now the fight had become a massacre, and the aliens, fleeing,\r\nfound a heavy guard on the door and no sanctuary anywhere short of the\r\ngrave. "Colonel," I screeched in his ear, "your voice will carry over\r\nthis hubbub. Go up the stairs a bit--tell \'em to leave a few alive--got\r\nto parley!"\r\n\r\nHe clumped up the steps, and his bull\'s roar quelled the racket like\r\nthunder drowning out a kindergarten choir. The thugs turned astonished\r\neyes upward, and the few usurpers still on their feet shrank together\r\nin a corner. For one brief instant I felt pity for them. Then I\r\nremembered their plot to take over our world....\r\n\r\n"That\'s enough," the Colonel was saying. "Collect the remaining enemies\r\nand bring \'em here, lads."\r\n\r\nThe "lads" did so. Alec and I went up the dozen steps to join the\r\nColonel, Marion ran down from the upper floor, and Arold Smiff pushed\r\nthrough his followers to wring my hand heartily. Then we all looked at\r\nthe things from the silver land, and I began to speak.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XXIII\r\n\r\n\r\nThere were sixteen of them left--sixteen out of two hundred and fifty.\r\nNo wonder the castle\'s great hall was swimming with blood! No wonder\r\nwe all looked like red Indians! "Who\'s the senior ghoul among you?" I\r\nasked, and a white-haired robot encased by a yellow lumpy godhelpus\r\nmoved forward a little. The Colonel hissed in my ear.\r\n\r\n"Good gad. I know that man! That\'s Sir Lawrence Hockling!"\r\n\r\n"He\'s also a monstrous, warty, holey creature, like a lump of wormy\r\ncheese.... Good afternoon, Sir Lawrence," I said loudly. "I believe\r\nyou\'ve been looking for me. I\'m Robert Hood of Manchester."\r\n\r\n"Ah yes, the Slasher." The bugaboo that was Sir Lawrence nodded\r\nbriefly. "It seems we have failed to annihilate you. No matter; others\r\nwill."\r\n\r\n"No, Sir Lawrence, you fail to grasp the situation. You\'re finished,\r\nyou invaders. You\'ve had your fun, but now you\'ve got to pick up and go\r\nhome, and never come back. Because we can see you."\r\n\r\nHe held up his hand. "Wait, sir. We accept you as a seer, of course.\r\nThere have been others--" _Jack the Ripper_, said I to myself with a\r\nchuckle--"others who have accidentally been enabled to pierce the veil\r\nbetween the lands. We have dealt with them, as we shall eventually with\r\nyou. But your companions--let them describe us!"\r\n\r\nThe Colonel pounced on this challenge like a tiger on a goat. I was\r\nbreathless, thankful that I had described at least Sir Lawrence to\r\nhim. "You\'re a cross between a speckled cheese and a diseased bit of\r\ngarbage. Lumps and bumps all over your slimy carcass!"\r\n\r\n"Good enough," said the monster, quaking with wrath. "That will do,\r\nColonel Bedford. I meant to say, let some of these--ah, rather unwashed\r\ngentry tell us of our true bodies."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI was turning sick with fear, the fear that now we were done for, that\r\nnow the colossal bluff would collapse. I had forgotten Arold--Arold,\r\nwho could see them plain as day.\r\n\r\n"The bloke on yer right," he shrilled, "is lyke a shark, all silvery\r\nand slick, wiff a big glow in \'is guts lyke a blurry fire. Next t\' him\r\nis--welp, it\'s \'ard to tell, but I\'d say he were a ostopus, you know,\r\none o\' them big leather things under the ocean."\r\n\r\n"Shall I have each of them describe you all?" I leaped into the breech\r\nwith a shouted challenge. "Shall we waste a couple of hours talking of\r\nyour stalks and pseudopods? Or are you satisfied? Man, man, why do you\r\nthink they came here, if not to crush you and your kind? Why did they\r\nfight you with such fury, if not because they can see you in all your\r\nhorror?" Needless to say, Arold\'s ruffians were staring bug-eyed at all\r\nthis incomprehensible arguing.\r\n\r\n"Well," said Sir Lawrence, "you obviously couldn\'t make so many men\r\nbelieve in us if they couldn\'t see us. I simply had to make sure."\r\nFortunately he and the others never turned round to observe the wonder\r\non the thugs\' faces. "I accept you as seers. How did you manage it? How\r\ndid you warp their vision?"\r\n\r\n"You know as well as I." _Now, Will Chester, bluff, bluff!_\r\n\r\n"Yes," he said, "ever since we entered your world, centuries ago,\r\nwe\'ve been afraid that one day the secret of vision-tuning might be\r\nstumbled upon by some clever member of your species. The trick of it\r\nis, after all, ridiculously simple."\r\n\r\nI snapped my fingers to show how simple it was, as I thought grimly of\r\nthat antique Tower musket blasting across my eyes. But through my brain\r\nthe ideas were tumbling. There _was_ an easy way to change one\'s sight,\r\nto peer into the silver land. That made my bluff much more feasible!\r\n\r\n"Yet it has been found too late, sirrah. We are ready to invade your\r\nplane by the millions, through every new birth that takes place on your\r\nglobe. Can you, a handful of seers, wipe out so many? I think not!"\r\n\r\n"You fool," I said coldly, "do you think I risked our whole band in\r\nthis slaughter? There are men all over England now, performing that\r\nsimple operation on others. There are hundreds, yes, thousands of\r\nus already. We\'re wise to you, my boy; we\'ve got an underground as\r\nefficient as your own. Already we\'re spreading to other countries. In\r\na short time the entire world will be on guard against you--and men\r\nwill be assassinating you in the dark." I let out my chest and roared\r\nit at him. I was suddenly an inspired Henry V before Agincourt, an\r\nimpassioned Emile Zola addressing the jury of Dreyfus, a thundering\r\nCaesar in the Senate. Marion said later that my eyes flashed lambent\r\nflame and she thought the roof of my mouth would split. I had a great\r\nsense of my own power; I felt my frame filling with the elation of a\r\ntrue savior, a liberator, an emancipator. I curved my hands like talons\r\nand shook them above my head, intoxicated with a belief in my own\r\nwholly untrue words.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you see how useless it will be for you to be born into a\r\nworld where you will be seen and immediately slain? From now on, the\r\nbestowing of double vision will be as much a part of a man\'s life as\r\nhis--his education, baptism, and what-have-you. Forevermore we\'ll\r\nbe on guard against you. I tell you now: go home, go back to your\r\nsilver-lined wastes, and never try to trouble us again. Give up your\r\ninfiltrating, your bestial usurping of bodies that ought to have had\r\nthe chance to live and see and feel and think for themselves. Go home,\r\nGod damn you all, go home! Your sole weapon, invisibility, is gone. You\r\ndon\'t enjoy death any more than we do--I\'ve felt your fear! I feel it\r\nnow! Be sensible; you made a good try, but you\'ve lost. Go home!"\r\n\r\nThe mouldy-looking thing that was Sir Lawrence began to colloque\r\nsilently with his countrymen, after their fashion. I looked beyond\r\nthem to the army of thugs. Most of them, giving up their attempt to\r\nunderstand what the toffs were talking about, were engaged in looting\r\nthe dead. I wondered what to do with them after this was over, if my\r\nbluff worked. Pay them off and send them home, I supposed. They would\r\nnever talk about this pogrom--they\'d be hanged! I\'d have to see that\r\nthey helped us bury all these corpses, alien robots and dead rogues\r\nalike, before they left. About twenty of the thugs had been killed.\r\nWho would miss them? And an event was coming--I devoutly hoped!--which\r\nwould engulf any such minor event as the disappearance of some three\r\nhundred men from all walks of life....\r\n\r\nAt last Sir Lawrence Hockling turned back to me. All his companions,\r\ntoo, faced my way.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNever, in all my journeying among their foul kind, had I felt the\r\nconcentrated effluvia of so much hate, so many noxious, diabolic\r\nwaves of damnable ferocity beating against me like the wind off the\r\nStyx, turning me weak and sick. Malignant powers from the poisonous\r\nwomb of Hell! I shook with uncontrollable nausea, with the dreadful\r\nrevulsion caused by the towering, smashing, soul-wrenching blast of\r\nhatred flung at me by the group of beast-folk in that moment. It was\r\nbeyond words. Nor was it my warped vision, affecting my other senses\r\nin the relatively mild way it had done before this. No, this was a\r\nferal force, a raging thing which knew no bonds of dimension or of the\r\nsenses. It stabbed to the soul itself. Marion gave a muffled scream and\r\nhuddled down on the step, clasping my knees; even the Colonel, the\r\nlast man to be disturbed by an abstruse sensation, gasped audibly. As\r\nfor poor Arold, he sat down with a bump and hid his face in his hands,\r\nwhimpering; having as we did the added receptivity, that terrible blow\r\nnearly killed us both. The hall was blotted from my sight, a gulf\r\nopened below me, I felt myself hurtling down into unmentionable depths\r\nof agony. When I opened my eyes I did not know what to expect: perhaps\r\nthe unknown wastes and plains of the silver land, whither their foul\r\nthrust, I thought, might very well have hurled me. As a matter of fact,\r\nI was still standing upright on the staircase. I have never been more\r\nsurprised.\r\n\r\nThen I saw that they were in the process of leaving their human bodies,\r\nwrenching and hauling backward as though caught in a tight box.\r\n\r\n"We accept your ultimatum," said the scholarly voice of the beast\r\nwho was Sir Lawrence Hockling. "We are rational beings. We have been\r\nbeaten, and we will return to our own plane, which lies at an angle to\r\nyour space-time continuum. Please spread the word of the capitulation\r\nabroad, so that no more may die. Agreed?"\r\n\r\n"Agreed," I said. I leaped down the steps to stand face to face with\r\nhis robot. "I give you three days of grace," I cried, "and then we\r\nbegin to slay you all over England."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI looked from him to the others of that group of inferno-bred ogres,\r\nshining like so many luminous bloated corpses at the bottom of the\r\nsea, with the colors of malice and savagery changing, coming and going\r\nin their rotten bodies; feeling the last exhalations of their enmity\r\ntouching me like a palpable force. It had not begun to dawn on me that\r\nwe had won. My head throbbed and racketed like a gourd full of thunder.\r\nThen I saw two men coming toward me through the mob, and my headache\r\ndied to a near-forgotten dull throb; for they were John Baringer and\r\nGeoff Exeter.\r\n\r\n"Look what I found on the lawn," said the doctor. "Sitting out there as\r\ncalm as ice, whistling Lili Marlene!"\r\n\r\n"What ho," said Geoff, groping with his hand until I had gripped it\r\nwith mine. "You boys have fun?"\r\n\r\n"I knew it," said I. "I knew you were the one. How\'d you get out? How\'d\r\nyou find your way to Birmingham?"\r\n\r\n"Long story, son ... everyone okay?"\r\n\r\n"All but Johnson."\r\n\r\n"The sergeant," said Geoff blankly. "Why, he\'s to live forever, hang\r\nit."\r\n\r\n"He\'s gone."\r\n\r\nGeoff was still for a minute, and then burst out, "Well, don\'t say it\r\nlike a morbid stuffed owl! After fifty years of civilian life, he smelt\r\nthe powder and heard the shots again, God be thanked! So he died--so\r\nbloody what? It\'s how he _should_ have gone."\r\n\r\n"Right," said I, from the heart. I turned to the aliens then, and found\r\nsixteen grinning, drooling, mindless carcasses, staring round with\r\nblank dull eyes. They were empty hulks. The usurpers were gone into\r\ntheir silver-blue fastnesses, and the fight was done.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XXIV\r\n\r\n\r\nA week had gone by. The seven of us sat over our dessert in London\'s\r\nfinest dining room: Arold Smiff well-scrubbed and ill at ease, Geoff\r\ncheerful as ever. Alec busy savoring the coffee. John cynical again.\r\nColonel Bedford complacent and stolid, my Marion all radiant and\r\nlovely, and myself, the erstwhile most savage one-man crime wave since\r\nGenghis Khan was a pup, fiddling with the silverware and feeling rather\r\nmournful, now that all was over.\r\n\r\nAt first we spoke of the past, as though each of us hated to think of\r\na future apart from his companions. We asked one another questions of\r\nwhich we had heard the answers a dozen times before. Geoff told again\r\nhow he had wandered down the secret stair that night, feeling his way\r\nalong the walls, lonely and worried, and how he had remembered as he\r\ncame to the ground floor that there was an old hidden exit in the back\r\nof the fireplace.\r\n\r\n"I give you my word I never meant to use it! I only wanted to see if I\r\nremembered the trick of it. You twist one of the hounds on the stone\r\ncoat of arms, and the door opens behind the logs. Well, I did it, and\r\nheard the door clink open; I hadn\'t tried it since I was a kid, and I\r\nthought, By golly, what a lark to go through the underground tunnel and\r\nsee if the other end\'s still workable! I guess I had some vague notion\r\nof us using it for an escape route, if things got too hot for us in the\r\ncastle. So I went in, and closed the door behind me.\r\n\r\n"I bumbled along the tunnel--how I recalled the feel of those damp,\r\nrough bricks!--and came after three hundred feet to the other end,\r\nwhere a hidden trap leads to a summerhouse. I lifted it cautiously,\r\nstill with no idea of leaving the tunnel, and felt the breeze on my\r\nface; and I knew then that I had to go on. I\'d come this far and\r\nsuddenly I knew I had to keep travelin\' till I got to Birmingham and\r\nArold. So I slipped out and cut straight through the woods till I came\r\nto the road. My lack of sight was no handicap, because there\'s not a\r\nchunk of turf within five miles o\' the castle I don\'t know by its first\r\nname.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"After I hit the road it was easy. I just groped my way for a few hours\r\ntill I knew by the sound of the farm dogs that I\'d come to Granny\r\nMoore\'s place. After running into a fence and a cart or two, I found\r\nthe door and banged on it; explained to Granny that I had to get to\r\nBirmingham as quick as possible; and she, bless her staunch old soul,\r\ndetailed her youngest boy (a lad of forty-nine) to take me there,\r\nwithout so much as a single query as to my reasons--and that\'s all. I\r\nfound Arold that afternoon at Old Mag\'s."\r\n\r\n"To think I was standing in the hall when you went through the door in\r\nthe fireplace," I said. "God! I thought it was ghosts I heard."\r\n\r\n"I\'d have left a note, or come back to tell you, but I was all carried\r\naway with the spirit of rollicking adventure and looniness," said\r\nGeoff, filling his pipe. "I expect I gave you some bad hours. I\'m\r\nsorry."\r\n\r\n"Forgiven," gruffed the Colonel. "You saved our bacon."\r\n\r\n"And the world," said Marion quietly.\r\n\r\n"Yes, the world! The jolly old human race, that didn\'t even know it\r\nwas in danger, and wouldn\'t believe it now if we told it! Hell\'s sweet\r\nbells, it\'s hard for _me_ to believe!" Geoff laughed. "Did we really\r\npit ourselves against ten thousand fantastic beasts, and drive them\r\nfrom our dimension by a colossal bluff? Or did we dream a long horrid\r\ndream, we seven strange crusaders?"\r\n\r\n"I begin already to doubt my memory," answered Doctor John. "I was\r\nnever cut out for a cavalier, wooing weird adventures. I\'m a solid\r\ncitizen. I\'m going back to my practice on the steamers."\r\n\r\n"When?" I asked.\r\n\r\n"Next week." Now the present had intruded in our talk, and the future.\r\n"What will you do, Colonel?"\r\n\r\n"Been thinking of retiring to the country, but I doubt I could stick it\r\nafter all the excitement we\'ve been through. I expect I\'ll stay on at\r\nthe Albany. Lots of things happening about one, you know, keep a chap\r\nyoung."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nI laughed to myself at the thought of the staid old-fashioned Albany\r\nbeing a bee-hive of activity, but said nothing. John went on. "You,\r\nAlec, what will you do?"\r\n\r\n"Huh? Me? Dunno," said Alec blankly. "Haven\'t cogitated on it."\r\n\r\n"Me neither," said Geoff.\r\n\r\n"Marion and Will will marry, of course," said the Colonel, as though\r\nthat accounted for us forever, and no question about it. "And you,\r\nsir," he said to Arold, making that worthy leap in his chair, "what do\r\nyou intend doing? You\'re a fairly well-to-do man now."\r\n\r\n"Ah, yes, thanks to you gents! As generous and kindly a lot o\'\r\ntoffs--that is to say, gentlemen--as you could arsk for. Me? I\'m going\r\nover the border. Scotland, that\'s the ticket for Arold Smiff; nice\r\nlittle village, cozy house, new name, and plenty of gin--welp, anyway,\r\nI\'m going to Scotland. Never meet nobody there who\'d know me, and\r\nthat\'s \'ow I wants it after the killings we done down at that there\r\ncawstle. Some of the blokes I \'ad to enlist ain\'t what you\'d call above\r\nthinkin\' of blackmail, to put it straight out. Course they don\'t know\r\nyou, but they knows Arold Smiff. Me for the heather!"\r\n\r\n"What did you think of the fight?" I asked him. "How did you explain it\r\nto them?"\r\n\r\n"Hexplyne? To them barst--them blokes? I guv \'em fifteen quid apiece\r\nand all the loot they could find. What else \'ld they be wanting?" He\r\ngrinned. "I might have cawst a few \'ints, such as that we was involved\r\nin a political move; the boys is hell on political moves. Maybe I\r\nmentioned the Sinn Feiners, careless-lyke. They drawed their own\r\nconclusions." He squinted into his cup. "I think I shall call meself\r\nJock MacSmiff," he said meditatively. "Ar, that\'s a good Scotch name.\r\nMaybe I\'ll even give up the gin. Take Scotch whisky instead, I mean.\r\nMore patriotic, lyke."\r\n\r\n"You\'ll be able to afford it, old chap, should you live to be a\r\nhundred," I told him. "It was nearly all your doing, yours and Geoff\'s,\r\nthat we won our fight."\r\n\r\nThe waiter brought a bottle of Piper Heidsieck \'43. The Colonel stood\r\nup to propose the first toast.\r\n\r\n"Gentlemen and Marion, I give you ex-Sergeant Henry Johnson. There is\r\nonly one thing we can say of him: greater love hath no man, that a man\r\nlay down his life for his friends."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWe drank standing. The waiter popped up with a second bottle. We\r\nresumed our seats, and Alec said, "The next is mine. I drink to the\r\ngood green earth, and the race of men who live on it. Maybe they don\'t\r\ngo about slopping over with gratitude for its beauty, but I think they\r\nappreciate it just the same, and I\'m damned glad we saved it for \'em!"\r\n\r\nHalf-laughing, we drank that one, and many more. I drank to my Jaguar,\r\nnow a deep red color and never to be identified with the sinister\r\nblack car which flew out of Manchester that night so long ago. Doctor\r\nJohn drank to Jerry Wolfe, who first discovered the abominable race of\r\nbeast-folk. Geoff toasted our army of rogues.\r\n\r\nThey all drank to our happiness, Marion\'s and mine. Then we called for\r\na fifth bottle, and drank a tall glass down in memory of our victory,\r\ntotal and forever final, over the beast-folk of the silver land. I\r\ntwirled my glass and stared at it, my eyes unfocused slightly, and I\r\nmused on _them_.\r\n\r\nThe usurpers....\r\n\r\nSir Lawrence Hockling, to give him his human name, had been as good\r\nas his word. Within a day, all through the land, the aliens had begun\r\nto decamp in disgust. As messengers raced behind the veil to tell\r\ntheir brothers the sad news, the exodus spread, first through the\r\ngreat centers of population, London and Birmingham and Sheffield,\r\nCardiff and Liverpool, and thence into the countryside until all\r\nEngland was touched by this incredible mass desertion of a world,\r\nthe beasts relinquished their stolen bodies and retreated into their\r\nown dimension. Well within my time limit of three days, the flight was\r\ncompleted. Some twenty-seven thousand robots were abandoned in the\r\nwithdrawal.\r\n\r\nYet these puppets, these husks, had not died. They had become\r\nbrainless, true; incapable of performing the simplest acts of caring\r\nfor themselves; but they lived on. It was more horrible than their\r\ndeaths would have been, I thought ... and yet there was a ray of hope.\r\nI had talked it over with my friends, and they agreed there was a\r\nchance of its coming true.\r\n\r\nThese new things (one could no longer call them puppets, when the\r\nmarionette-masters had gone) were like nothing on earth so much as\r\nnew-born babies, babies in grown or half-grown bodies. What if their\r\nbrains, unimpressed thus far by any experience, now began to develop,\r\neven as a baby\'s begins? What if they were not idiots, as they seemed\r\nto a horrified world to be, but simply newly-born humans who must be\r\ntaught learning and manners and speech and all the rest, as though they\r\nwere so many victims of a titanic wave of devastating total amnesia?\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIf this were true--and it logically might be--then our rescue of the\r\nworld would have been bought even more cheaply than we had calculated.\r\nTwenty-seven thousand amnesia victims to retrain is a damned sight\r\nbetter than that many idiots or, as we had expected at first, corpses!\r\n\r\nThere would still be sorrow and tragedy in the wake of the thing we had\r\ndone. Couples who had spent lifetimes together had found themselves\r\nsplit, their mutual memories lost forever, as one turned infantile and\r\nlooked mindlessly at the other. Men who had been forces for good in\r\nEngland (the usurpers were not intent on corrupting our daily lives,\r\nbe it remembered, but on taking over our whole plane) had become\r\nuseless hulks, great dribbling infants in old bodies. Many suicides had\r\nfollowed the plague of total amnesia.\r\n\r\nYet if my ray of hope chanced to be true, it took nine-tenths of the\r\ncurse of the business off our consciences.\r\n\r\nAnd some of the problems connected with the plague would then appear\r\nmuch smaller, and even rather funny; as for example, the twenty-seven\r\nthousand adolescents and adults who had never been house-broken....\r\n\r\nWell! I came back to myself, filled up my glass again, and drank\r\nArold\'s toast to Lord Nelson. How he ever crept into our party, I\'m\r\nsure I don\'t know. By then, perhaps, we were all a little bit drunk;\r\nso we welcomed Lord Nelson, and drank to him joyously. Then we drank\r\na final round to our long bitter fight with the usurpers, and we\r\nadjourned for the night. The next day we separated, each to his own\r\nplace, and the great adventure was over at last.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n CHAPTER XXV\r\n\r\n\r\nIt is just a year since we drove the usurpers out of England.\r\n\r\n(About the robots that they left behind, my hunch was right; for they\r\nare learning to take care of themselves, to walk and speak and act\r\ndecently, and many have even begun to read and think again. When I\r\nconsider this, I am inclined to go to my knees in thanks. What _might_\r\nhave happened...!)\r\n\r\nFor a while I could not realize that my wild bluff had actually\r\nworked. I kept expecting a trick, a wholesale re-invasion of our world\r\nby the ogres. Even yet it is hard to comprehend. I suppose the only\r\nexplanation is that all created things hate and fear death: in their\r\nfashion, the usurpers were just as scared of dying as the humblest\r\nhuman, and must have decided that the vicarious pleasures of earth\r\nweren\'t worth it.\r\n\r\nSelfish fear gripped them, selfish deadly fear of murder in the dark.\r\nThey shrugged themselves out of their stolen bodies, and abandoned\r\nthe world they had hoped to conquer. The simplest of weapons, the\r\neasiest to employ, had done our work for us in a manner beyond our most\r\noptimistic dreams. The simplest weapon ... fear.\r\n\r\nMarion and I were married, of course, a year ago. The delirious\r\nhappiness of our marriage has not cooled for me. Some day, perhaps, my\r\nfeeling will have calmed to a steady, staid, cozy sort of affection;\r\nbut not yet. Not for a long time yet.\r\n\r\nI bought a little bookshop in Bury St. Edmunds, and took in Geoff\r\nand Alec as partners. It\'s the proper life for a quartet of reformed\r\ncrusaders like the three of us and Marion. Peaceful, contemplative, and\r\nyet stimulating. We like it. And we like being together.\r\n\r\nJohn is back on the seas as ship\'s doctor, the Colonel is laired up at\r\nthe Albany, and Arold lives in Kirkcudbright, swilling great vats of\r\nScotch whisky, I have no doubt. One day soon we must all get together\r\nfor a grand reunion....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBut a man cannot walk through fire without being burnt; and as there\r\ncannot be many such conflagrations as that through which I groped and\r\nfled and sought my way, it is only natural that my mind carries even\r\nyet a few scars of the burning. I do not expect--I dare not hope--that\r\nthey will ever be wholly healed.\r\n\r\nIn certain moods, usually on dreary days when the sky is overcast\r\nand the sun is hidden, or sometimes at night when the great yellow\r\nhunter\'s moon rides in a black sky, the horror of the usurpers comes\r\nupon me with fresh and lurid obsession, more appalling than ever it was\r\nin the weeks of my hectic and headlong warfare. Then I go out into the\r\nstreets or wander on the moorlands and fight with my hallucinations. A\r\nthousand times I tell myself that _they_ are gone, that the world is\r\nclean and inviolate again; and a thousand times I hear in reply the\r\nhideous laughter of the fear that lives forever at the bottom of my\r\nsoul.\r\n\r\nI walk past a tavern, and see its door swing open, and catch a glimpse\r\nof the barman; and he seems to me in that moment to be, not a jovial\r\nred-faced fellow, but a twisting writhing monster shot with vivid\r\nlights and fringed with rippling pseudopods. A friend comes up behind\r\nto clap me on the shoulder, and I dread to turn and look at him, for\r\nfear of what he may be. I hear a snatch of speech from a wireless set,\r\nand the soft cultured voice emanates, I believe in a sudden jolt of\r\npanic, from the lips of a marionette-creature controlled by a hellish\r\nand malevolent incubus.\r\n\r\nSo at last I take my terror home to Marion, and lose it in her arms....\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEWARE, THE USURPERS! ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Theft'

'Venable, Bill'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Theft\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Theft\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Bill Venable\r\n\r\nIllustrator: W. E. Terry\r\n\r\nRelease date: July 19, 2021 [eBook #65876]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEFT ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THEFT\r\n\r\n By Bill Venable\r\n\r\n With little green men telling him what to\r\n write, Thompson was certain he had flipped his lid.\r\n His psychiatrist agreed--until he read the stories!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n September 1952\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThompson poured himself a shot of rye and downed it in one quick\r\nmovement. He then pulled out his tobacco pouch, filled his pipe and\r\napplied a flaming match to the bowl. He puffed clouds of fragrant\r\nsmoke. He frowned deeply. It was a good frown because Thompson was an\r\nexpert in the art of frowning. This particular frown was a frown of\r\nirritated exasperation, because Thompson was an author, and it was late\r\nat night, and he\'d drunk a quarter of a fifth of rye and smoked eleven\r\npipefuls of tobacco and played four LP records, and he still had no\r\nideas. His head swam from the effects of the whisky, and the tobacco,\r\nand the records; but he persevered in his search for An Idea for a\r\nStory.\r\n\r\nHe searched among his records for _Le Coq d\'Or_ and put it on the\r\nphonograph, at bass tone and loud volume. After the first few bars he\r\ngot up and took it off, still a man without inspiration. He played\r\nHindemith\'s _Variations on a Theme by Russell_ next. Utterly useless.\r\nHe tried _The Age of Anxiety_ and followed it with Petrouchka;\r\nintermittently he sat down and pondered passages from _Rubaiyat_. All\r\nto no avail.\r\n\r\nAbout this time the little green men came out of the woodwork. They\r\ndidn\'t emerge from the woodwork in the manner one might expect--i.e.\r\nsqueezing through cracks and knotholes like mice and spiders. They just\r\nsort of materialized out of it, rather like they had walked through it.\r\nThere were four of them.\r\n\r\nThompson took his pipe from his mouth and looked at them.\r\n\r\n"Ah," he murmured. "Yes indeed." He knocked the ashes from his pipe and\r\ngot up from his chair. He put the whisky back in the cupboard and took\r\nthe record off. Then he sat down again and regarded the little green\r\nmen. He closed his eyes tightly and held them closed for a minute or\r\nso. He opened them and looked at the green men again. Then he rubbed\r\nhis eyes and pounded his head with his hands. The green men sat in\r\nmid-air and stared at him. Thompson regarded them as coldly as possible.\r\n\r\n"Well," said the nearest green man, "Aren\'t you going to say hello?"\r\n\r\nThompson swallowed. "Hello," he managed after a moment.\r\n\r\n"Hello," rejoined the other.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThompson nodded his head affably and remained silent. Presently he went\r\nto the cupboard and got out the whisky; he poured a shot and downed it\r\nin one quick movement. Then he filled his pipe and lit it. He puffed\r\nclouds of smoke and stared at the green men through a blue haze.\r\n\r\n"Well," said the nearest green man again, "Aren\'t you glad?"\r\n\r\nThompson nodded genially.\r\n\r\n"We\'re here to help you write a story, you know," pursued the other.\r\n\r\n"Oh." Thompson brightened. "Good. Got any ideas?"\r\n\r\n"Naturally. What would you like to write about? Romance? Adventure?\r\nMystery? Fantasy?"\r\n\r\n"Let\'s try--" Thompson pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling, "a\r\nshort mystery. Something with a surprise ending that lays you out."\r\n\r\n"Easy," said the other. "Try this."\r\n\r\nHe began narrating.\r\n\r\nThompson relaxed in his chair and puffed more clouds of smoke.\r\nPresently his face lit up. His eyes dilated and his pupils diminished\r\nto specks.\r\n\r\n"Ah!" He exclaimed. He pulled his chair up to the typewriter and\r\nstarted typing notes, interspersing the green man\'s narrative with\r\nmuttered exclamations.\r\n\r\nThe green man finished with an ending that sent Thompson over backwards\r\nin his chair. Thompson extricated himself and set up the chair again.\r\n"Terrific!" he said. "It\'ll make my fortune!"\r\n\r\n"It will," assented the green man.\r\n\r\n"What do you want for it?" inquired Thompson craftily.\r\n\r\n"Nothing," responded the vision.\r\n\r\n"Oh yes," said Thompson. "Nothing. Certainly. Well," he withdrew a\r\nstack of typewriter paper from his cluttered desk, "I certainly thank\r\nyou fellows. Goodbye." He inserted a sheet in the typewriter.\r\n\r\n"Oh, we\'re not leaving," said the off-color gnome.\r\n\r\n"You will," said Thompson imperturbably. "In the morning. I\'ll have a\r\nheadache but you\'ll be gone."\r\n\r\n"Suit yourself," said the green man. He and his companions rose a foot\r\nin the air and sat suspended again. Thompson began to type. Now and\r\nthen he looked at the green men and smiled, and turned back to his\r\nclick-clacking on the typewriter.\r\n\r\nTwenty double-spaced pages later he was done. He made a neat stack of\r\nthe sheets and shoved them into an envelope, handily pre-addressed to\r\nthe editorial offices of one of the more prominent magazines. He sealed\r\nthe envelope and slapped postage on it. Then he walked three flights\r\ndown from his apartment to the street, slipped the envelope into a\r\nmailbox, and staggered back up to bed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe awoke, true to his prediction, with a raging headache. He sat up\r\nin bed and looked around the room for the little green men. They were\r\nnowhere to be seen. His doubts assuaged, he rose stiffly from his bed\r\nand careened off the chest-of-drawers into the bathroom, where he\r\nswallowed three aspirins in a glass of water. He turned on the water\r\nto see if it was hot, letting it run over his fingers. It was. He took\r\na steaming shower and followed it with an icy one. Then he rubbed\r\nhimself down with a Turkish towel and, the towel precariously wrapped\r\naround his middle, went back into the bedroom. His eyes bugged out and\r\nhe tripped on the edge of the rug and fell heavily to the floor. When\r\nhe got up four green men were still sitting complacently on a shaft of\r\nsunlight that poured in through the Venetian blind.\r\n\r\nThompson\'s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out.\r\n\r\n"See," said the nearest green man. "I told you so. And don\'t take on\r\nso," he added in alarm. "You\'ll dislocate your jaw."\r\n\r\nThompson turned his back to the vision and went into the cupboard. He\r\npoured a shot of rye and downed it in one quick movement. The bottle in\r\nhis hand, he sat down on the edge of the bed, regaining his composure.\r\n\r\n"Why do you do that?" inquired the gnome with curiosity.\r\n\r\n"If I\'m going to go on seeing you," Thompson explained, "I may as well\r\nbe drunk. It helps."\r\n\r\n"You mean you still attribute our existence to the effects of alcohol?"\r\ninquired the other.\r\n\r\n"Oh no," Thompson denied vigorously. "To the bitters."\r\n\r\n"You jest," said the gnome in hurt tones. "Don\'t you want to become a\r\ngreat author?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly," Thompson agreed hastily. "You mean you have more ideas?"\r\n\r\n"An infinite number," said the green man, waving a deprecatory hand.\r\n"We thought of an excellent novel," he added, "while you slept last\r\nnight. Do you want to hear it?"\r\n\r\n"Of course!" Thompson jerked on his shorts. "Wait, though. I need\r\nbreakfast first." He writhed into a shirt.\r\n\r\n"Plenty of time," said the greenie. "While you\'re gone, we\'ll\r\nassimilate some more ideas."\r\n\r\n"Good," said Thompson, pulling on his trousers. "Shall I bring you\r\nsomething to eat?"\r\n\r\n"We don\'t eat," said the other airily. "You can bring a spotlight,\r\nthough. We can sit best on a beam of light."\r\n\r\n"Right," said Thompson. He opened the door.\r\n\r\n"Goodbye," remarked the gnome.\r\n\r\n"Goodbye," Thompson hurried from the room.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThompson closed the door of the phone booth behind him. "Hello," he\r\nsaid. "I\'d like to make an appointment with Doctor Vossman. Today, if\r\npossible."\r\n\r\n"Just a moment," said the secretary. He heard her riffle through some\r\npapers. "What date did you say you wanted an appointment?"\r\n\r\n"Today!" Thompson repeated. His breathing into the mouthpiece came out\r\nquite clearly in the receiver against his ear.\r\n\r\n"Doctor Vossman can see you today at three. What is the name, please?"\r\n\r\n"Thompson. Laurence Thompson."\r\n\r\n"Very well, sir. Today at three."\r\n\r\n"OK." Thompson hung up and emerged from the phone booth. His ham and\r\neggs were ready at the counter and he sat down and wolfed them. He\r\ncounted his money as he went out and decided to stop in the hardware\r\nstore down the street and buy a spotlight.\r\n\r\nWhen he got back to his apartment the sunlight was coming in the\r\nwindow at a forty-five degree angle and the gnomes were almost sitting\r\non the floor. Thompson plugged in the spotlight and turned the beam\r\nupward. "There," he told the green men. "That okay?"\r\n\r\n"Thank you," said the nearest gnome. The whole group rose in the air\r\nand floated over to the spotlight beam, sitting rather comfortably on\r\nthe edge of it. "We thought of three excellent short stories while you\r\nwere away. Would you like to hear them?"\r\n\r\n"Yeah, sure," responded Thompson. Might as well take advantage of the\r\nsituation while it lasted.\r\n\r\n"Very well," said the nearest green man. "Here\'s the first one."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAt two o\'clock Thompson jerked the last sheet of the last story from\r\nthe typewriter. He went to the cupboard and got out a coat and tie.\r\n"I\'m going to lunch," he told the gnomes, knotting the tie as he\r\ntalked. "I\'ll be back pretty soon."\r\n\r\n"Fine," beamed the speaker for the little men.\r\n\r\n"Well," said Thompson uncomfortably, slipping into his coat. "You want\r\nanything more?"\r\n\r\n"We\'re nicely comfortable, thank you," said the green man. "Goodbye."\r\n\r\n"Be seein\' you." Thompson slammed the door behind him and added to\r\nhimself, "I hope not."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe sign on the door said:\r\n\r\n HERMAN VOSSMAN:\r\n PSYCHIATRIST\r\n Walk in\r\n\r\nThompson walked in. There was nobody in the outer office so he walked\r\nto the inner office door and knocked.\r\n\r\n"Come in," answered a German accent.\r\n\r\nThompson entered and beheld a small, thin, bespectacled man seated\r\nbehind a modernistic steel desk.\r\n\r\n"Ah," said this apparition. "You are Laurence Thompson. Sit down. Sorry\r\nno one was in the outer office but my secretary is out to lunch. What\r\ncan I do for you."\r\n\r\n"Well," said Thompson. "This is kind of hard to say, Doctor, but\r\nI\'m--seeing things. Hallucinations."\r\n\r\n"What are you seeing, Mr. Thompson?"\r\n\r\nThompson fingered the end of his tie. "Little green men."\r\n\r\n"Ah," said the doctor. He leaned forward in his chair. "And what do\r\nthese little green men do?"\r\n\r\n"They give me ideas for stories. I\'m an author."\r\n\r\n"That is all they do?"\r\n\r\n"They sit on a beam of light, too."\r\n\r\n"Oh yes." The doctor took off his spectacles and began to polish them.\r\n"On a beam of light, of course. When and how did you first see these\r\nlittle men?"\r\n\r\n"Well," Thompson ran nervous fingers through his hair, "Last night was\r\nwhen I first saw them. They came out of the woodwork."\r\n\r\n"Last night--" began the doctor with a flash of intuition.\r\n\r\n"I was drunk," said Thompson.\r\n\r\n"Of course," agreed the doctor. He put his spectacles back on. "Then\r\nyou have nothing to worry about; at least not in my line of work.\r\nPerhaps you should see a physician, delirium tremens is not in my line.\r\nUnless you wish me to cure your alcoholism--"\r\n\r\nThompson waved a hand. "Uh uh. Last night I didn\'t mind so much. But\r\nthey were there this morning too." He leaned forward toward the doctor.\r\n"Would you say I am drunk now?"\r\n\r\n"Hard to tell," rejoined the doctor, fluttering his fingers. "Offhand,\r\nI would say, no."\r\n\r\n"Well," Thompson, "the little green men were still there when I left my\r\napartment at two today."\r\n\r\n"I see," said the doctor. "That makes a difference, of course."\r\n\r\n"Haven\'t had but one shot of rye since last night, either."\r\n\r\n"Yes, of course," murmured the psychiatrist. "And do you think they are\r\nstill in your apartment now?"\r\n\r\nThompson shrugged. "Hard to tell."\r\n\r\n"Then," said the doctor confidently, "there is only one thing to do. We\r\nshall go to your apartment and see." He rose from his chair.\r\n\r\n"Good enough," replied Thompson.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Now," said Thompson, "we will see if they\'ve gone." He opened the door\r\nand peered into the room. He shuddered and entered the apartment; the\r\ndoctor followed and closed the door.\r\n\r\n"Are they here?" inquired the doctor, glancing about the room.\r\n\r\nThompson nodded and pointed. "Sitting on the beam of the spotlight."\r\n\r\n"Ah yes." The doctor gazed uncomfortably at the spotlight and gave a\r\nsigh. He pushed Thompson over to the bed. "Lie down," he said. "Do you\r\nhave a medicine cabinet?"\r\n\r\n"In the bathroom, Doc." Thompson pointed.\r\n\r\nThe doctor nodded and went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet.\r\nHe took out a bottle of antihistamine tablets and shook three into his\r\nhand. He drew a glass of water and walked back to Thompson\'s bedside.\r\n\r\n"Sit up," he said. "Here, take these."\r\n\r\nThompson downed the pills and took a swallow of water. The doctor\r\nset the glass on the bedside table and went over and turned off the\r\nspotlight.\r\n\r\n"Now," muttered the doctor. He turned on the lamp beside the bed and\r\nwrapped a green shirt around the bulb, tying the sleeves together at\r\nthe top. He turned the lamp on Thompson\'s face. "You say the little men\r\ngive you ideas for stories. Eh?"\r\n\r\nThompson shut his eyes and nodded. "On the desk. See?"\r\n\r\n"Oh!" The doctor exhaled. "You write the stories down?"\r\n\r\n"Naturally. They\'re great."\r\n\r\nThe doctor walked around to the desk, picked up one of the manuscripts.\r\nHe whistled softly. "Just relax," he said, turning to Thompson. "I\'m\r\ngoing to read these over."\r\n\r\n"Sure, doc." Thompson stretched out comfortably on the bed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAn hour later the doctor was finishing the last story and humming\r\nsoftly to himself. He laid down the manuscript and fluttered his\r\nfingers airily. His face was a mask.\r\n\r\n"Now, Thompson," he said. "Look around the room. Are the little green\r\nmen still here?"\r\n\r\nThompson opened his eyes and gazed about the room. "Yep," he said\r\nfinally. "Over there in the corner, up by the ceiling."\r\n\r\nThe doctor didn\'t even look. He took off his spectacles and inserted\r\nthem carefully in his coat pocket. Then he fished a quarter from his\r\nhip pocket and held it up between two fingers.\r\n\r\n"Thompson," he said softly. "Look."\r\n\r\nThompson looked. The quarter spun. The lamp above his face cast a soft\r\ngreen light.\r\n\r\n"The little green men aren\'t there, Thompson."\r\n\r\n"Yes, they are," remarked Thompson petulantly.\r\n\r\n"No, they\'re not," soothed the doctor.\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"No," said the doctor firmly.\r\n\r\n"No?" inquired Thompson sleepily.\r\n\r\n"No.\r\n\r\n"You imagined them," breathed the doctor. "They aren\'t there. Not there\r\nat all. Can you hear me, Thompson?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Now forget all about your little green men. You can forget about them.\r\nYou will forget about them." The doctor\'s voice was a monotone.\r\n"They ... never were there. You will never see them again. Never,\r\nThompson. Never see them again. Never again. Thompson. Now go to sleep.\r\nYou\'ve been dreaming."\r\n\r\nThompson relaxed.\r\n\r\n"Thompson?"\r\n\r\nThe sleeping man lay still, eyes shut, breathing even. The doctor\r\nexhaled softly.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Why did you do that?" queried the nearest green man. "He\'s convinced.\r\nHe\'ll never see us again."\r\n\r\n"Naturally," said the doctor. He didn\'t even turn around. He got his\r\nspectacles out of his pocket and adjusted them on his nose. He turned\r\nto face the little green men.\r\n\r\n"Come on," he said, waving a hand toward the door. "All my life I\'ve\r\nwanted to be a great author. You fellows are going to tell me what to\r\nwrite!"\r\n\r\nThe green men shifted several feet nearer to him. "Crime, weird,\r\nmystery, adventure, or romance?" said the nearest gnome.\r\n\r\n"Fantasy," said the doctor, "Let\'s go!"\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEFT ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'"Next Stop, Nowhere!"'

'Purcell, Dick'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of "Next Stop, Nowhere!"\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: "Next Stop, Nowhere!"\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Dick Purcell\r\n\r\nIllustrator: W. E. Terry\r\n\r\nRelease date: November 17, 2021 [eBook #66760]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "NEXT STOP, NOWHERE!" ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n "NEXT STOP, NOWHERE!"\r\n\r\n By Dick Purcell\r\n\r\n It\'s logical to assume that an elevator\r\n only travels from one floor to another; yet if\r\n you think about it--what\'s between the floors?\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n August 1956\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nFour persons disappearing from an elevator should have caused\r\nconcern--even excitement. Especially when the elevator was stuck\r\nbetween two floors. But the thing was handled quite casually. And with\r\ngood reason. After all, when a thing is not understood the best defense\r\nagainst acknowledging ignorance is to insist that nothing extraordinary\r\nhappened.\r\n\r\nIn this case, four persons, a girl and three men, stepped into an\r\nelevator in the Kendall Building. They were all headed for the same\r\nsuite--offices occupied by several medical men. The elevator jammed\r\nbetween the sixth and seventh floors and refused to budge.\r\n\r\nThe operator, a salty little Brooklynite, swore quietly to himself\r\nand pushed the emergency signal. It rang but nothing happened. The\r\noperator waited for a few minutes, then spoke in a carefully casual\r\nvoice, "The blessed engineer is out to supper. Now ain\'t that the way\r\nthings always happen? When the blessed engineer goes out to supper the\r\nblessed elevator does a blessed sit-down between two floors."\r\n\r\n"What--what are we going to do?" This from the very pretty female\r\npassenger named Peggy Wilson who was afraid of almost everything and\r\nwas going to a psychiatrist who was trying to root a dominating mother\r\nout of the poor girl\'s subconscious and put the old lady back in her\r\ngrave where she belonged.\r\n\r\n"We aren\'t in any danger, miss. We could wait for the engineer but it\r\nmight be quite a while."\r\n\r\n"It looks to me as though we\'ll have to wait for him," Walter\r\nMaltby said. Maltby was an ingrown little man who had had a toothache\r\nfor three weeks and had finally been driven to the dentist by his\r\ndominating wife.\r\n\r\n"Oh, no. If one of you guys--men--will boost me through the trap in the\r\nroof of the car, I can get to the seventh floor door. I\'ll crawl out\r\nand go down in the basement and move the blessed car to seven by hand."\r\n\r\n"Okay," Wilmer Payton said. He was a six-feet-four Greek god with a\r\nbody close to perfection and a handsome, intelligent face that was\r\nnothing more than a spate of false advertising pasted across the front\r\nof a vacant head. Wilmer was pretty much of a mental bankrupt. He\r\ndidn\'t even own the furniture in his own cerebral attic, the pieces\r\nhaving been placed there by others. He had the look of a rising young\r\nexecutive and was the assistant mail room boy in a large publishing\r\ncompany. And a good one, too. Lately, they had been entrusting him with\r\nspecial delivery letters.\r\n\r\nHe braced himself and the operator climbed on his shoulders and\r\nvanished through the ceiling. A moment later there was a sound of an\r\nopening door and a few grunts and scramblings after which the door\r\nclosed and silence again prevailed.\r\n\r\nThe three passengers glanced at each other fearfully. The fourth, a\r\nsmall, white-haired man in his late sixties had stood quietly in one\r\ncorner during the whole procedure. He had a pair of bright black eyes\r\nand a look remindful of an alert fox terrier in a basement known to\r\nhouse rats. He was Fleming Carter, a psychiatrist by profession and a\r\nstudent of almost everything by choice. He was an accomplished linguist\r\namong other things and translated Sanskrit and Hebrew for the pleasure\r\nof it. He was an amateur chemist and also conducted himself ably on a\r\npair of skis.\r\n\r\nSo the quartette was not lacking in brilliance, Fleming Carter having\r\nenough to burnish all four.\r\n\r\nHe had mentally taken his three fellow-prisoners apart and put them\r\ntogether again when he noticed the girl\'s trembling and saw her first\r\ntears. Only then did he step forward.\r\n\r\n"There is no cause for alarm, my dear--none at all. These lifts fairly\r\nbristle with safety devices. The insurance companies demand it."\r\n\r\nPeggy Wilson turned to him gratefully, a little like a kitten, he\r\nthought, which yearned for the reassurance of a soothing hand. _She\r\nwould make a beautiful Persian_, he thought. A perfect house pet.\r\n\r\n"But to be trapped here--like--like animals," Peggy whimpered. "It\'s\r\nterrible!" She was moving toward Fleming Carter\'s shoulder, but Wilmer\r\nPayton took a single step forward and her head turned quite naturally\r\nto _his_ bosom. Fleming Carter smiled and estimated to a nicety the\r\nintelligence of any offspring that would result from a mating of these\r\ntwo vacuums.\r\n\r\n"It\'s all right, baby," Wilmer said. "I\'ll take care of you."\r\n\r\nWalter Maltby had troubles of his own. He now voiced them: "Jenny will\r\nbe furious if we don\'t get out of here pretty quick. I\'m always home\r\nfor Television Theater and if I don\'t make it--"\r\n\r\nHe got no further because at that moment the foundations of the world\r\nseemed to give way and the four of them were hurled into a heap on the\r\nfloor.\r\n\r\nOr were they?\r\n\r\nThis question was in Fleming Carter\'s mind as Peggy Wilson screamed,\r\nWalter Maltby whimpered, and Wilmer Payton bellowed in terror. _Had_\r\nthe lift fallen--the building collapsed--an atom bomb exploded?\r\nHis instincts told him no. This because--while all the outward\r\nmanifestations of such catastrophes seemed apparent--there was\r\nsomething strangely different about the sudden chaos into which the\r\ngroup had been thrown.\r\n\r\nFleming Carter felt they should all be dead. But they remained very\r\nmuch alive. They should have been at least mangled and maimed. None\r\nappeared even scratched.\r\n\r\nAll this, Carter told himself firmly, was a chaos of the mind and\r\nnothing more. It was mental panic of such violence that it was\r\nmanifesting in the physical. He told himself this while he sought to\r\nmaintain equilibrium while standing upon nothing and wondering where\r\nsuch a terrific wind could come from in a sheltered elevator shaft.\r\n\r\nThen it was over. The hurricane subsided; the floor stiffened beneath\r\nthem and they were lying in a heap--a heap made interesting by Peggy\r\nWilson\'s legs sprawled above the others in a very unladylike manner.\r\n\r\nWilmer Payton groaned.\r\n\r\n"Shut up," Fleming Carter said sharply. "Don\'t start a wave of panic\r\nand hysteria. You aren\'t hurt!"\r\n\r\n"How the hell do you know I ain\'t?" Wilmer Payton demanded with\r\nchildlike docility.\r\n\r\n"Because I\'m not and no one else seems to be and we all fell the same\r\ndistance."\r\n\r\nFleming Carter began to extricate himself from the pack. This\r\nnecessitated pressing rather personally against Peggy Wilson. He did\r\nwhat he had to do and then drew the girl\'s skirt down as gently and\r\nhastily as possible. He was relieved to find she was in no shape to\r\ncare what anyone did with her skirt.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMeanwhile, the elevator operator, upon finding he could not move the\r\nelevator, returned to reassure the occupants. He went to the seventh\r\nfloor and called down very cheerily, "Everything\'s all right, folks. If\r\nthis\'d happened before six o\'clock there\'d be plenty of blessed people\r\naround, but it\'s almost seven and the engineer ain\'t back from supper\r\nyet. It won\'t be but a little while though, and then--"\r\n\r\nThe operator became aware that only silence answered him. Had they been\r\nscared dumb? "You--hey you--down there--"\r\n\r\nMore silence. The operator frowned and crawled down into the shaft. He\r\nlooked through the trap. Empty. "Well I\'ll be damned!" he said. And\r\nbecause an obvious situation was covered by an obvious answer, added,\r\n"All four of them crawled out and went home. Funny they couldn\'t stick\r\naround a few minutes."\r\n\r\nHe did not ponder the difficulties involved in such an escape. The only\r\ndirection they could have gone was up and out on the seventh floor. He\r\nthus accepted the obvious. And his only thought on the subject was that\r\nhe\'d like to have been the one to boost the girl up.\r\n\r\nLater, he bawled the engineer out and that was that so far as he was\r\nconcerned.\r\n\r\nBut the situation was far less simple for the four passengers. As\r\nFleming Carter struggled to his feet, Walter Maltby used his leg for a\r\nladder and came erect also and said, "I\'ll bet Jenny will sue somebody\r\nfor this! Jenny won\'t let them get away with it! Not for a minute."\r\n\r\nWilmer Payton was also on his feet looking dully about him. Fleming\r\nCarter said, "Why don\'t you help the lady, young man? I\'m sure she\r\nwould appreciate the courtesy from you more than myself or--?"\r\n\r\nHe looked questioningly at the other male member of the quartette.\r\n\r\n"Walter Maltby--and as I was saying, Jenny will never--"\r\n\r\n"I\'m sure she won\'t."\r\n\r\n"What happened?" Wilmer Payton asked of no one in particular as he\r\nhauled Peggy Wilson to her feet.\r\n\r\nThe girl was biting her lip, trying hard to be brave. "The elevator\r\nmust have fallen. It\'s a wonder we weren\'t all killed!"\r\n\r\nThey agreed. All save Fleming Carter who was looking around with bright\r\ninterest. "It seems to me that we are no longer in the elevator."\r\n\r\nWalter Maltby\'s jaw dropped. "No longer in the--"\r\n\r\n"This is a somewhat larger area. And I fail to see any walls. Also, the\r\nceiling seems to have vanished."\r\n\r\nThe other three gazed about in shocked silence and the truth of Fleming\r\nCarter\'s statements dawned on them. No walls, no ceiling. Nothing but\r\nhard earth under their feet and a high blue sky above.\r\n\r\n"Why we\'re out--out in the country!" Peggy Wilson babbled.\r\n\r\n"I agree," Fleming Carter said. "But let\'s not get panicky. We are\r\nstill alive and unhurt."\r\n\r\n"But I don\'t understand it," Walter Maltby said, plaintively. "I just\r\ndon\'t understand it."\r\n\r\nFleming Carter regarded the little man with pity. No Jenny around to\r\nreassure the little man with her domineering bulk. Carter knew as a\r\nmatter of course that Jenny would be both bulky and domineering.\r\n\r\nCarter looked about him. They were out in open country--that was\r\nobvious. There was a huge sun and a huge blue sky and huge clouds\r\nfloating overhead. Everything in place but something very wrong.\r\n\r\nThings were just too big.\r\n\r\nThat was it, Carter told himself. The size of this new world was far\r\nout of proportion to the size of him and his new friends. They were\r\nall standing in coarse grass that reached their knees--high grass--but\r\nCarter realized instantly that the grass was not high. They themselves\r\nwere short!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWilmer Payton, holding Peggy Wilson in the crook of one arm, looked\r\nabout through eyes that obviously sent no intelligent messages to his\r\nbrain. He turned them on Carter and said, "I don\'t get any of this."\r\n\r\n"I think I know what happened," Carter said.\r\n\r\nThis even caught the interest of Walter Maltby who was wondering what\r\nJenny would have to say about his not arriving home on schedule. "What\r\n_did_ happen?"\r\n\r\n"We\'ve fallen--or were snatched--through some sort of a space-time\r\nwarp."\r\n\r\nWilmer Payton gaped idiotically and said, "We did _which_ through a\r\n_what_?"\r\n\r\nFleming Carter seemed not to hear. He was staring pensively at the\r\nthick blades of grass that brushed his knees. "There are more things in\r\nheaven and earth, Horatio--" he mused.\r\n\r\n"There ain\'t nobody here named Horatio," Wilmer said sullenly.\r\n\r\n"Excuse me. My mind was wandering," Carter\'s mind was not wandering at\r\nall, however. He said, "There are certain unexplained phenomena that\r\nare believed to have happened in our world. People have been known to\r\ndisappear mysteriously and those who remain behind formulate theories\r\nas to the how and the why of their vanishing. It is believed by some\r\nthat people can be moved, under certain conditions from one plane of\r\nexistence to another--that there are many of these so-called planes of\r\nexistence where many and varied peoples live and breathe upon them.\r\n\r\n"Of course, no proof has ever been found for these theories because\r\nthe vanished persons never came back to testify, but--" Carter stopped\r\nsuddenly and regarded the three with a touch of compassion. "You\r\nhaven\'t the least idea what I\'m talking about, do you?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m afraid not," Walter Maltby said timidly.\r\n\r\n"Well, never mind. Perhaps I don\'t either. In any case, existence is\r\nits own excuse for accepting any locale. Suffice it to say we are now\r\nin a world that was not built for us--a world for creatures of far\r\ngreater dimensions than ourselves--and how we got here is really of\r\nlittle importance."\r\n\r\nPeggy Wilson was now snugly in Wilmer Payton\'s arms, her head tight\r\nagainst his chest. Wilmer was just opening his mouth to say something\r\nwhen, over the slope of the land, a huge form appeared. There was\r\nnothing mystifying about it. The creature was obviously a man. He\r\nwore rather strange loose clothing that, Carter thought, had some\r\nresemblance to those of the ancient Greeks. But otherwise there was\r\nnothing different about him except his size. As he approached, Fleming\r\nCarter estimated that Wilmer Payton--the tallest of the four--would\r\nabout come to the top of his odd sandal-like footgear.\r\n\r\nThere was no panic now--the three being completely frozen with terror\r\nand Carter statue-quiet and sharply alert. The giant, he was sure,\r\nwould pass within two hundred yards of them. A distance dangerously\r\nclose considering the man\'s size.\r\n\r\nStill, Carter was optimistic. There was no reason why the giant should\r\nsee them. As things were, they could certainly hope to be overlooked.\r\n\r\nBut Peggy Wilson dashed this hope as the pressure within her became too\r\nstrong to contain and broke out in the form of a scream.\r\n\r\nThe giant stopped, took a few quick steps in their direction and was\r\nupon them. Carter knew then, that they were lost. A huge hand swooped\r\ndown and lifted Walter Maltby into the air. Far above, Carter saw the\r\nterrified Maltby being transferred carefully to the giant\'s other\r\nhand. Now Wilmer Payton and Peggy Wilson were running blindly in two\r\ndirections, Peggy having been suddenly deserted by her protector. Twice\r\nmore the huge hand descended and the two also vanished into the vast\r\npalm.\r\n\r\nApparently, the giant overlooked Fleming Carter who had stood quite\r\nstill during the whole time. But Carter made a swift decision based\r\nmore on charity than good sense. Somehow, he could not leave those\r\nthree to their fate. So he cried out and waved his arms. "Just a\r\nmoment! You overlooked me!"\r\n\r\nThe hand swooped down again as the giant saw him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCarter Fleming found himself resting comfortably with his face against\r\nsomeone\'s back. Otherwise he was completely surrounded by soft flesh.\r\nHe realized they were being handled carefully however so he felt that\r\ndeath, while definitely a threat had been at least postponed. He\r\nwondered about the others, so close to him and yet so far away so far\r\nas contact was concerned. He knew the terror that raced through their\r\nminds and he pitied them....\r\n\r\nThe giant was continuing on, Carter decided, and he endured the ride as\r\nbest he could.\r\n\r\nThen it terminated suddenly as Carter and the others were very gently\r\ntumbled into a room. The room had no ceiling but this situation was\r\nspeedily remedied when a ceiling was lowered and set into place above\r\nthem. In the resulting darkness, Carter heard Peggy Wilson sobbing and\r\nvarious unintelligible noises from Maltby and Payton. Then the room\r\nbegan suddenly to move in haphazard directions.\r\n\r\nPossibly this was finally the end, but Fleming Carter could not bring\r\nhimself to think so. Because even though the room pitched and tossed,\r\nCarter felt it was being done rather gently by the giant hands.\r\n\r\nThen it was over. The room settled down and remained on solid base.\r\nImmediately there was a rending sound and a vast finger was thrust\r\nthrough the wall just below ceiling level. The finger was withdrawn but\r\nonly to reappear when thrust through the other side.\r\n\r\nIt vanished again and the two resulting holes let in ample air and\r\nlight.\r\n\r\nFor a few moments Carter and the other three sat motionless, waiting.\r\nSomething was going on outside the room--the room itself moving\r\nslightly--but the violent tossing was evidently over.\r\n\r\nPeggy Wilson spoke first--or rather, sobbed. "Where are we?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m sure I don\'t know, my dear, but if I stood on the young man\'s\r\nshoulders I could look out through one of those openings and perhaps\r\nlearn a little something."\r\n\r\n"You want me to lift you?" Wilmer Payton said dully.\r\n\r\n"That is the general idea," Carter replied in a gentle voice.\r\n\r\nWilmer braced himself against the wall and Carter clambered to his\r\nshoulders and cautiously pushed his head through the opening. He\r\nremained thus for quite a while--until Wilmer Payton began moving\r\nrestlessly. Then he clambered down.\r\n\r\nThey waited for him to speak but he said nothing. He stared at the hole\r\nwith a look of amazement upon his face as though, for the first time\r\nthe wonder of this strange transition had struck him forcibly. Then\r\nhe turned his eyes upon his three companions and there was a look in\r\nhis eyes that had not been there before; personal, yet impersonally\r\nanalytical. A hard look to read, so they could have no way of knowing\r\nthat he was trying to forecast how they would react to the fate that\r\nawaited them.\r\n\r\n"Well," Wilmer Payton demanded impatiently. "Did you see anything?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. This is not a room. It is a huge box of some sort. It is bound\r\naround on all sides by what looks like red carpeting of a width used\r\nin hallways. I believe such carpetings are called runners. Attached to\r\nthe top is a large white sail although it appears to be made of paper\r\nrather than canvas." He was watching them closely as he spoke.\r\n\r\n"It took you all that time to see those things?" Walter Maltby asked a\r\ntrifle plaintively.\r\n\r\n"No. There were other things."\r\n\r\nAt this point Peggy Wilson, coming out of her shock, began to\r\ncry hysterically. "My God! What\'s to become of us? We\'ll all be\r\nkilled--murdered!"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t think so," Carter said.\r\n\r\n"Then we\'ll be held prisoner. That will be just as bad!"\r\n\r\n"In a sense, you will be held prisoner--but I don\'t think it will be\r\nbad. I think our jailer will probably be a rather kindly person who\r\nwill give us every consideration."\r\n\r\n"How could a jailer do that?" Peggy Wilson moaned.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCarter laid a hand upon her shoulder. "Consider, my dear. All your life\r\nyou have needed a mother. Now you will have the equivalent of one." He\r\nturned to Walter Maltby. "And you. You have learned to function only as\r\na result of a dominating wife\'s promptings. Our jailer will fill that\r\nrole for you."\r\n\r\nLastly he regarded Wilmer Payton. "You, young man will be directed and\r\nguided. You will not have need of the brain power with which you are\r\nnot equipped.\r\n\r\n"All of you will be content. None will have any decisions to make--all\r\nwill be taken care of. Can you think of a more pleasant destiny?"\r\n\r\nWalter Maltby said, "You\'re talking in circles. Talking but not saying\r\nanything!"\r\n\r\nCarter had turned away, smiling. "This is very strange. We were\r\ntransported to another plane, but not snatched up willy-nilly. There\r\nwas a pattern behind it. Three people admirably suited to their new\r\nfate."\r\n\r\nWilmer Payton seized Fleming Carter by the arm and whirled him around.\r\n"Will you please tell us what you\'re talking about?"\r\n\r\n"Of course," Carter said quietly. "To speak the absolute truth, we are\r\nin a box. The box is tied with a wide red ribbon. The thing I called\r\na sail is in reality a greeting card upon which certain words are\r\nwritten; words not too difficult to decipher."\r\n\r\n"Well, go on--what are the words."\r\n\r\n"In English, they would read--\'Happy Birthday, Darling.\' You are\r\nsomeone\'s birthday present."\r\n\r\nPeggy\'s face was ashen. "You speak of _us_," she whispered. "How well\r\nsuited _we_ are for this fate. What about yourself?"\r\n\r\nCarter smiled. "I expect this to be the most interesting period of my\r\nlife," he said. "You see, the present is for me. I picked it out."\r\n\r\nAnd as they watched in stunned amazement, Carter began to grow.\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK "NEXT STOP, NOWHERE!" ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'You are forbidden!'

'Shelton, Jerry'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of You are forbidden!\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: You are forbidden!\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Jerry Shelton\r\n\r\nRelease date: September 11, 2022 [eBook #68968]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nOriginal publication: United States: Standard Magazines, Inc, 1947\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU ARE FORBIDDEN! ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nYOU ARE FORBIDDEN!\r\n\r\nBy JERRY SHELTON\r\n\r\n[Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\nThrilling Wonder Stories, June 1947.\r\nExtensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nDr. Jules Craig, P.L.L., was unhappy. He was famous. He was young. He\r\nwas talented, healthy, successful. He carried the distinguished degree\r\nof P.L.L. He had everything!\r\n\r\nBut he was unhappy.\r\n\r\nHe sat at his tastefully furnished desk, shuffling the Life-Line\r\ncharts of the patient seated across from him. The patient awaiting the\r\ndiagnosis was nervous.\r\n\r\nPoor devil! Craig thought. This man is going to die. He doesn\'t know\r\nit--and I can\'t tell him.\r\n\r\nA wave of pity swept through him, intensifying his own brooding\r\nunhappiness. Despite the fact he had instructed his psycho-color\r\nexperts to design his inner consultation office in as soothing a\r\nshade as scientifically possible, the patient was sweating profusely,\r\nawaiting the verdict. The room was comfortably air-conditioned.\r\n\r\nThe patient was a little fat man. The face was putty-white. Eyes\r\nshifty, breathing rapid, voice shaky and twisting of the hat. This\r\nman would be dead in three weeks, and he, Dr. Jules Craig, had to lie\r\nto the man. With an unpleasant sensation, he summoned his resolution,\r\nlooked at the name near the upper left-hand corner of the charts, and\r\nspoke.\r\n\r\n"You have no cause for worry, Elder Wayman," he said. He forced his\r\nvoice to sound as smoothly professional as possible. "The diagnosis of\r\nyour Predictable Life-Lines are clear and definite. I know this matter\r\nhas been a strain upon you, but you cooperated well. Your own reports,\r\nand the necessary Crystaleen Cell you have been wearing during these\r\nlast three months gave all the details I needed."\r\n\r\nHe began to shuffle the Life-Line charts again as if reading them. He\r\nheard his voice go into the routine patter used on such unfortunate\r\ncases as this.\r\n\r\nThe irony of what his professional voice was saying to this little fat\r\nman burned another scar into his heart. The Predictograph had predicted\r\nthis man would be dead within three weeks--and that wondrous, complex\r\nmachine never erred. Yet, because of "Medical Ethics," he heard himself\r\ngiving this innocent patient the old conversation, professionally\r\nused in such unhappy cases: "--everything is all right--" and, "your\r\nLife-Lines show a happy future--" and, "--you will be successful--"\r\nand, "--happy--" and, "--you should relax and enjoy yourself now that\r\nyou have your future Life-Lines completed." He also said other things.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCraig felt sick. The Predictograph had predicted this little fat man\r\nwould be killed in three weeks--in an accident! A gyro crash, with fire\r\nand an unpleasant death.\r\n\r\nOutwardly, Dr. Craig knew he appeared cool and professional. But\r\ninwardly, his brain seethed and raged with questions that lashed his\r\nconscience.\r\n\r\nIf only the Supreme Medical Council would permit him to tell this man\r\n_not_, on pain of death, to get into any gyro--perhaps this little fat\r\nman wouldn\'t die. But, _Quote_:\r\n\r\n"You are forbidden to tell a patient his true future when it is\r\nunfortunate."\r\n\r\n"You are forbidden!" the Supreme Medical Council said.\r\n\r\nCraig gritted his teeth. He knew the Degree of Predictable Life-Lines\r\nwas the highest medical degree a human could attain. But cases like\r\nthis made him doubtful that he should have ever worked for his P.L.L.\r\n\r\nWhy couldn\'t this be prevented? The question reminded him of what he,\r\nhimself, was going to do today. He was going to break his oath! He\r\nintended to do something that the Supreme Medical Council had said was\r\nforbidden! His resolve, like a shot of adrenalin, strengthened him. He\r\nwould carry out his plan.\r\n\r\nHe heard his voice speaking.\r\n\r\n"Since your charts predict a happy, successful and--" the untrue word\r\nalmost stuck in his throat, "--long life ahead of you, I suggest, now\r\nthat your Life-Lines are completed, you go home, forget about your\r\nbusiness, and the few little minor troubles I mentioned, and celebrate.\r\nYou have fulfilled the Galactic Federation requirements by completing\r\nyour Predictable Life-Lines and you are entitled to throw a real party."\r\n\r\nHe forced the professional twinkle into his eyes.\r\n\r\n"Of course the Predictograph hinted you will have a\r\nsuper-hangover--after your party."\r\n\r\nAs the little fat man\'s tension broke and he began to chuckle, Craig\r\nnodded.\r\n\r\n"You know the machine can\'t pick up small sensory lines like\r\nhangovers," Dr. Craig said. "We can learn only the major facts of your\r\nfuture with the usual possible ten-percent error of course."\r\n\r\nHe made himself smile.\r\n\r\n"So perhaps you won\'t have a hangover. But if you react to such a\r\nsplendid report as this, as most of my patients do, then you will throw\r\na real brawl that should give you that super-hangover." He extended\r\nhis hand. "Good-by! Speak to my secretary, Miss Evans, on your way out\r\nabout the balance on your account. And congratulations."\r\n\r\nThe door closed behind the patient. Craig\'s head dropped. One more\r\nhopeless case he had lied to. He sat motionless at his desk. He let\r\nthe lids close over his eyes, as his broad forehead wrinkled with\r\nconflicting thoughts. Unpleasant thoughts.\r\n\r\nThe Predictograph _never_ missed! For the trained operator like\r\nhimself, it picked up everything down to the slightest detail. He\r\nshouldn\'t have worked so long, so hard, to earn his P.L.L. He was\r\nbeginning to realize he wasn\'t the psycho-type for this sometimes\r\nunhappy business. Patients with happy futures made him happy in turn.\r\nBut when he diagnosed a future full of heartbreak, he couldn\'t remain\r\ncool and impersonal.\r\n\r\nHe continued to sit there, thinking of what he intended to do this day.\r\nHe noticed the palms of his hands were becoming slippery with sweat. He\r\ncould feel his heart beginning to hammer as if it were terrified. His\r\nbreathing felt cramped and smothered.\r\n\r\nToday was _his_ day! He was going to learn his own future. Not in\r\nsugar-coated, pink-pill form, with any future horrible happenings\r\nomitted. He was going to know his _true_ future. If the Supreme Medical\r\nCouncil found out that he was violating his doctor\'s oath, they would\r\nbreak him without mercy. But if he succeeded with his plan, it would\r\nforever guide humanity along paths of happiness undreamed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe tried to pick up a cigarette. His hands were shaking so badly he had\r\nto make three attempts before he got it into his mouth. He puffed it\r\nalight. He managed a short laugh. Like all patients about to receive\r\nthe diagnosis concerning their future life, he was nervous too. And\r\npatients were always told nice little "medical white-lies," if their\r\nfutures were hopelessly unfortunate, instead of the truth.\r\n\r\nBut if there were bad times ahead of him, he would know them, down to\r\nthe slightest horrible detail, before this day had crawled by. The\r\ncigarette was dry and tasteless.\r\n\r\n"Doctor Craig?"\r\n\r\nHe jumped, startled. A blurred image before him sharpened into focus.\r\nIt was his secretary, Miss Evans, crisp in her cool white uniform,\r\nstanding across the desk from him.\r\n\r\n"I plugged my call light into your interphone minutes ago," she said.\r\n"You didn\'t answer." She glanced at the brightly glowing signal on the\r\ndesk, then at the doctor. "Is there anything wrong?"\r\n\r\nHe shook his head, switched off the light and mashed the life out of\r\nthe tasteless cigarette.\r\n\r\nMiss Evans pressed her lips together. "Electro-Transport just sent over\r\nyour reservation. Your passage is arranged at Grand Terminus, through\r\nBooth Two-Seventeen. You\'ll be transmitted at Hour Eleven Hundred.\r\nHere is your ticket. I got you a round trip." Her voice, usually so\r\nimpersonal, trembled on the last word. "Can I do anything else, Doctor\r\nCraig? Your face is so pale."\r\n\r\n"Everything\'s fine," he mumbled. "After I leave, I want you to check\r\non that last patient. Find out about his family, his insurance and all\r\nthat. Be discreet of course. He has about three weeks left."\r\n\r\n"Oh!" gasped Miss Evans. "Another one?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, his lines are very definite. Find the usual angle, if you can,\r\nto see that his family gets the medical fee back through some sort\r\nof anonymous donation. If the family needs it in your opinion, add a\r\nthousand credits."\r\n\r\n"But, Doctor Craig!" She hesitated. "You can\'t afford to keep giving\r\naway your money."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t worry, Freckle-nose," he said, uttering the pet name before he\r\nthought.\r\n\r\nThe girl burst into tears. "Oh, Jules," she sobbed. "I know it\'s still\r\nbusiness hours, but I can\'t stand it any longer." Her brown eyes wet\r\nwith the long pent-up tears, blinked at him pleadingly. "Please, honey!\r\nCan\'t you tell me? Can\'t I help you? Why are you going to Mars? I\'m so\r\nworried about you."\r\n\r\n"Freckle-nose!" He moved from behind the desk and pulled her to him.\r\n"Don\'t worry. After today, I promise we\'ll have a lot of fun together.\r\nJust don\'t worry. That\'s all I can say until tonight when I return.\r\nI\'ve got an idea, and if it works out, it might change the destiny of\r\nthe human race." He lifted her chin and kissed her on the tip of her\r\nfreckled nose. He forced his voice to sound cheerful. "You got another\r\nfreckle there since this time yesterday."\r\n\r\nThe girl was trembling. She held him tightly a moment, then pushed\r\nherself from his arms. She straightened her hair and assumed her\r\nsecretary manner.\r\n\r\n"Right, Doctor Craig. When shall I expect you?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s the girl!" He knuckled her under the chin. "I\'ll be back\r\nlate--at about Seventeen Thirty Hours. Wait for me and we\'ll find a\r\nnice noisy spot somewhere, where we can resume our usual discussion\r\nabout who is going to ask who to marry whom, and when and where. Okay?"\r\n\r\nHe stepped through the door, picking up his hat in the outer room. A\r\nthought swung him around.\r\n\r\n"When a report is transported from Doctor Praggor concerning a patient\r\nnamed Bradbury, don\'t file it. I will want to see it first, tonight!\r\nIt\'s a special case." He watched the door close slowly, shutting out\r\nthe framed vision of a freckle-nosed girl in a crisp white uniform\r\nwatching him with worried eyes.\r\n\r\nHe took a lift to the roof and signaled a cruising gyrocab. He climbed\r\nin, giving the Electro-Transport Grand Terminus address stamped on\r\nhis reservation. As soon as they were air-borne, the cabbie pulled up\r\nto the two thousand-foot level and since traffic was light, they made\r\ngood time. Below, the city drifted slowly behind like a chessboard of\r\nrioting colors, studded with gargantuan chessmen.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nCraig settled back into the pneumatic seat and tried to relax. His\r\nmuscles refused to obey. They shrieked their nervous alarm at him now\r\nthat he was beginning to carry out the long-awaited, final phase of his\r\nplan.\r\n\r\nThere was no turning back. It was too late to hesitate now. His own\r\nlife, his reputation and perhaps the happiness of countless billions of\r\nhumans, yet unborn, depended on his courage.\r\n\r\nA sickening doubt raced through him. How ironical it would be, if, when\r\nhe appeared before his old classmate, Dr. William Praggor, P.L.L.,\r\npresenting again the false name of William Bradbury as he had done\r\nthree months previously, Praggor should suddenly recognize him as Dr.\r\nJules Craig, P.L.L. Praggor would be compelled to report he had broken\r\nhis oath! The Supreme Medical Council would be merciless.\r\n\r\nIf he were recognized, he wouldn\'t get a chance to finish the last,\r\nmost important part of the experiment. And this experiment would force\r\nhim to risk far more than his career--risk his own sanity!\r\n\r\nPerhaps Praggor wouldn\'t recognize him this time either. They had\r\nchanged during the long busy years since graduation. Praggor had become\r\nsoft and fat, while he, Craig, still possessed the lean hard body of\r\nhis youth. But his thick dark hair was graying at the temples. That\r\ngraduation day had been only eleven years ago.\r\n\r\nHe remembered the silver-haired speaker, the head doctor whose name\r\nhe couldn\'t even recall, walking to the center of the raised platform\r\nadjusting his glasses.\r\n\r\n"Youngers, I congratulate you. You are about to receive the degree of\r\nP.L.L., the most sacred degree ever intrusted to man! The road behind\r\nyou has been mind-racking. But now you hold in your brains the ability\r\nto determine the Predictable Life-Lines of any patient who, having\r\nreceived his order from the Galactic Federation when they have decided\r\nhis life lines are necessary, will come to you for his diagnosis.\r\n\r\n"The Galactic Foundation has its own vast Bureau of Public Records\r\nwhich, in combination with our services, has succeeded in keeping\r\npeace in our system for two centuries. Our work is vital to the proper\r\nfunctioning of their methods. But their own investigations are not to\r\nbe put aside lightly.\r\n\r\n"Their departments of mass psychology, propaganda, environmental and\r\nracial trends and all the rest of their methods, so necessary to keep\r\na Galactic Empire running smoothly, are at your disposal to make an\r\naccurate diagnosis of the particular individual. Where the Federation\r\ndeals in masses--you in turn have been trained to deal with the\r\nindividual."\r\n\r\nThe doctor had paused to clear his throat impressively.\r\n\r\n"Youngers--I know all of you have wondered about your own futures," he\r\nhad continued. "What I am about to say now is such a top-secret matter\r\nthat it is only revealed at this last moment of graduation. All men\r\nwant to know their futures. That is their natural right." His voice had\r\nbecome firm. "But when you accept this degree of Doctor of Predictable\r\nLife-Lines, you will have forever severed yourself from normal humanity\r\nand the right to know your future. You are now declared a breed of man\r\napart. You will never learn your own future. There is a reason for\r\nthis, and the Galactic Federation is confident you will never cause\r\ntrouble. No man who has ever stood in this room a Younger and walked\r\nout a doctor, has ever violated his oath. You have been investigated\r\nfar more than you know. But all of you are human."\r\n\r\nThe speaker softened his voice.\r\n\r\n"In a few moments you will be issued your own personal Predictograph.\r\nIt will be your life-long companion. It is attuned and geared to you\r\npersonally. It is part of you. While you have been students you worked\r\nwith standard models to learn their functions.\r\n\r\n"But the machine you will receive will be different. Do not think for a\r\nmoment you can tell your own future with your own Predictograph. You\r\ncannot! It has a built-in principle guarding against that unfortunate\r\npossibility should you ever try to violate your oath.\r\n\r\n"We have never tried to foretell your futures for you, since once\r\nyou have worn the Crystaleen amplifier-recorder cell necessary for a\r\nLife-Line diagnosis for the required three months, the Supreme Medical\r\nCouncil has decided it upsets the delicate attunement of a Doctor of\r\nP.L.L. to his own Predictograph, upsets it to a degree which interferes\r\nwith accurate diagnosis.\r\n\r\n"It is unwise for any man to know his own exact future. Danton Marko,\r\nthe inventor of the Predictograph, proved that two centuries ago when\r\nhe diagnosed his own future and went hopelessly insane in three weeks."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe voice boomed suddenly like the clang of metal upon metal, and\r\ngathered itself into a rising crescendo of sound.\r\n\r\n"Mankind has enjoyed peace for two centuries. The peace has proven that\r\nthe Galactic Federation is right in compelling each human to submit,\r\nat the proper age of his development, to a Predictable Life-Line\r\ndiagnosis. Consequently, no single human, has been able to succeed in\r\nplanning disorder and chaos to a serious degree before being stopped.\r\n\r\n"I admit that seems to be a paradox. I admit your logical minds may\r\nquestion this paradox and ask: If a human is forced to have a Life-Line\r\nmade and his future indicates he is going to try to breed trouble\r\nand unrest, he must be executed. This fact will naturally show up\r\nin his diagnosis, which immediately must be filed with the Galactic\r\nFederation. Therefore, are you, as a doctor of P.L.L., responsible for\r\nthe man\'s death, since you revealed he would cause trouble?" He raised\r\nhis hand as if to stifle any sudden comment.\r\n\r\n"It is a puzzling question, Youngers. The same as which was first--the\r\nchicken or the egg? There are things concerning the phenomena we deal\r\nwith which we do not understand as fully as we some day hope to. But\r\nyou have your sacred trust and obligation to file with the Council and\r\nFederation all Life-Lines you diagnose.\r\n\r\n"Mankind has had no war for centuries. But mankind\'s massed life force\r\nand intelligence is a terrible, powerful blind energy that could wreck\r\nthe entire Universe if it were not guided and controlled into the\r\nproper channels.\r\n\r\n"Isn\'t it better to sacrifice a few--instead of a billion?" The lines\r\nin the lecturer\'s face became grim. "Youngers, as the years slip by,\r\nand you find yourself with a patient whose future is although not\r\ndangerous but full of misery and agony--always remember your training\r\nand your oath: You are forbidden to tell him his unhappy future and\r\nyou are forbidden to tamper with your machine to tell your own future.\r\nThose are your medical ethics. Younger Praggor, step forward!"\r\n\r\nCraig remembered how Praggor had mounted the platform a Younger and\r\nstepped down a Doctor, P.L.L. Like himself, minutes later. Eleven years\r\nago. Eleven years of stepping aside and permitting men and women to\r\nwalk blindly ahead to their doom. Eleven years of lies. Of cheating\r\nhimself of his own self-respect.\r\n\r\nThese were some of the reasons he had decided to break his oath! He\r\nwould make himself a guinea-pig. He would have his own future diagnosed\r\nin a way that he would know beyond the shadow of a doubt if he could\r\nactually _change_ his own Predictable Life-Lines. That was why he had\r\nsent Praggor that letter three months ago:\r\n\r\n 25, Augusti, 243 G. T.\r\n Stanton-Greenstone Center\r\n 5th, Wing, 82nd, Level\r\n Greater NYC--EARTH.\r\n\r\n TO: Dr. William Praggor, P.L.L.\r\n Manya Clinic\r\n New Paris, MARS\r\n\r\n Dear Bill:\r\n\r\n Sending you patient, Earthian rank of Younger, Ben Bradbury. Would\r\n run case myself but since he is friend, feel he has been too close\r\n to me for that. Suggested he see you for more impersonal diagnosis.\r\n He will probably request appointment pre-lim consultation within\r\n week. Send his charts to my secretary before you file them with\r\n Council.\r\n\r\n Jules Craig, P.L.L.\r\n\r\nHe had been nervous, three months ago, when he had presented himself\r\nto Praggor\'s secretary with the false name of Bradbury. He had hoped\r\nthe report he would turn in would be complete enough that Praggor\r\nwould not have to go to the Federation\'s files for more data. If that\r\nhappened, since the name of Ben Bradbury wouldn\'t be found in the\r\nfiles, he would be exposed immediately and all chance of making the\r\nexperiment lost forever to him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBut Praggor\'s secretary had seemed cold and indifferent, like a\r\nmachine. And although he had sweated out the fear Praggor would\r\nrecognize him when he was admitted to the inner office, he saw that\r\nPraggor hardly even looked at him. Just another patient....\r\n\r\nThe sudden whine of the vanes of the gyrocab as it began to drop\r\ntoward the landing-stage snapped him back to the present, and its\r\nnew problems. He gradually pulled himself together as he saw Grand\r\nTerminus swell and expand in size beneath him. He felt the landing\r\ngear bump. He climbed out, paid the cabbie and walked to the\r\ninformation desk presenting his reservation for transport.\r\n\r\nIn a bored voice, the clerk issued instructions for finding Booth\r\n217. Down the corridor, through the hall, down the lift, and into the\r\nbooth. The attendant ripped off the receipt, opened the door. Craig\r\nentered and sat down in the metal chair. He waited.\r\n\r\nHis hands still felt wet. He tried to reason with himself that there\r\nwas no sense in getting nervous now. That could come _after_ he\r\ndiagnosed his own charts.\r\n\r\nDistantly, he heard the attendant drone:\r\n\r\n"Grand Terminus, Earth--calling New Paris, Mars. Reservation\r\nTwenty-six B. Doctor Jules Craig, Earthian, awaiting transport, Booth\r\nTwo-Seventeen to New Paris. Please verify. Over."\r\n\r\nThe lights inside the booth were bright, hot and dazzling. He\r\ncould hear the vague hum and whir of the scanners as the invisible\r\ntechnicians adjusted the transmitting beam in relationship to his\r\nmass. The spacial chit-chat, with no time lag since it was sub-ether\r\nstuff, was incomprehensible to the layman. It continued:\r\n\r\n"New Paris, Mars, to Booth Two-Seventeen, Grand Terminus, Earth.\r\nDoctor Jules Craig, Earthian, in sync for transport. Will adjust.\r\nOver."\r\n\r\nCraig felt a tingle sweep through him, and as it continued, he puffed\r\na cigarette alight. He blew a swirling cloud of smoke.\r\n\r\n"New Paris to Grand Terminus. Adjustment complete on Two-Seventeen. Go\r\nahead. Over."\r\n\r\nCraig tensed himself against the unpleasant sensation of a bad\r\ntransport. But he felt nothing. He waited until the "All Clear" signal\r\nflashed, and stood up. It had been a smooth trip. Even the puff of\r\nsmoke had come along with him.\r\n\r\nHe waited half a minute until the lights blinked off and walked\r\nthrough the opposite door. It had been as simple as that. No\r\nsensation. Good transport.\r\n\r\nThe air was thin and cold. His breathing quickened, and since he\r\nfelt a bit dizzy he made his way slowly to the nearest move-walks.\r\nHe noticed, however, that he could breathe more easily than the last\r\ntime he had come to Mars to see Praggor. That meant the Federation,\r\nat last, was beginning to get some results with the new oxygen-output\r\nmachines.\r\n\r\nThe Manya Clinic swarmed with patients. The lift shot him up to\r\nPraggor\'s office. The waiting room was crowded and the unsmiling\r\nsecretary took his false name without comment. He found a place to\r\nsit, and began to wait.\r\n\r\nIrritated, Craig pulled out a cigarette and tried to smoke, but his\r\nhands shook so noticeably and the cigarette tasted so muggish, he\r\nthrew it away.\r\n\r\nThe waiting was nerve-racking. Good grief! he thought. Is this the\r\nrefined mental torture all _his_ patients went through in his own\r\nwaiting room? Is this why all his patients were so nervous despite his\r\nefforts to assure them worrying wouldn\'t help things? Is this the way\r\nthey felt while waiting for his diagnosis--with the mind building up\r\npossible or imaginary terrible future happenings?\r\n\r\nCraig noticed his hands were sweating more than ever, and furious with\r\nhimself, he tried to clench them together as if to push the cold,\r\nclammy moisture back where it came from. He had never considered this\r\npart of a diagnosis so seriously before.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWithout warning, the nasty little thought he had been trying to fight\r\ndown and out of his consciousness ever since he had started the\r\nexperiment struck him like a blow from an invisible fist.\r\n\r\n"Is this experiment too big for one man, Doctor Craig?"\r\n\r\nWould there be an inevitable punishment for trying to tamper with the\r\nlines and forces of space and time? Were humans still too small and\r\ninsignificant and ignorant to try to sway the very basic structure of\r\nthe entire Universe?\r\n\r\nRelentlessly, the long submerged, nasty little voice beat at his brain\r\nwith questions.\r\n\r\n"Suppose, Doctor Jules Craig, by breaking your oath, you learn your\r\nfuture is to be a fearsome thing crammed with disease, heartbreak,\r\ndisfigurement and an early painful death and that it is impossible to\r\nchange your future? Is that why Marko went mad? Can you keep your own\r\nsanity?"\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Chaotic thoughts rushed through Dr. Craig\'s mind and he\r\nwondered whether he dared read his report from Praggor.]\r\n\r\nHe almost shouted aloud. He realized he was sitting stiff and tense on\r\nthe edge of his chair. He took a desperate grip on himself and forced\r\nhis body into a more relaxed pose.\r\n\r\nHe waited, with the sweat drenching his body.\r\n\r\n"Younger Bradbury?" The secretary was calling him.\r\n\r\nWearily, he stood up and walked into the inner office. He saw Praggor\r\nsitting behind his desk, fatter than the last time. He wondered if the\r\ndoctor would recognize him at this last moment.\r\n\r\nPraggor didn\'t. Praggor hardly looked at him as he shuffled charts\r\nimportantly, looking professional.\r\n\r\n"Younger Bradbury, your great day has come. You have finished your\r\nP.L.L. Nice report. Notes you supplied my secretary were exact."\r\nHe looked oddly at Craig. "You know--your reports were almost as\r\ncomplete as if a doctor himself had made them out. Usually it is\r\ndifficult to convince a patient of the importance of detailing every\r\nmovement, contact, every bit of food and drink, every thought so as\r\nto enable the machine to get the Life-Lines well centered and to wear\r\nthe Crystaleen Cell at all times. But you followed my instructions\r\nperfectly."\r\n\r\nPraggor laughed and continued: "Of course your charts have the small\r\nerror of ten percent which we always have to allow for. Some of your\r\nunimportant detail lines are fuzzy."\r\n\r\nA blasting fear, like exploding petrol, swept through Craig. Here he\r\nwas sitting in front of a desk, waiting for a diagnosis, the most\r\nimportant thing in his life--and he had to listen to this kind of\r\nrubbish! Error of ten percent? The machine never missed! With the care\r\nhe had taken, checking his own behavior, he knew he had turned in\r\nprobably the most accurate report ever filed into any Predictograph.\r\nHe had wanted to be sure.\r\n\r\nHe listened, the fear inside of him growing and swelling until it was\r\nchoking him in the throat, as the doctor spouted off with medical\r\nrubbish that sounded like Page 310, of Chapter IV, of Marko\'s "The\r\nNecessity of Telling the Patient What He Wants to Hear."\r\n\r\nThis was a diagnosis like telling futures with tea-leaves and\r\npalm-reading, when he wanted to _know_! And now Praggor was giving\r\nhim the old stuff about: "--you\'ll take a nice long trip--" and "make\r\nmoney--nothing to worry about--celebrate--" and the chuckles about,\r\n"--a beautiful blond with long legs--"\r\n\r\nPraggor wasn\'t telling him the _truth_! There never would be a blond\r\nwith long legs. All he wanted was Freckle-nose. Praggor was lying to\r\nhim! The thought rose up monstrous in his mind. Good heavens! What did\r\nit mean?\r\n\r\n"I\'ll send these charts to Doctor Jules Craig tonight," Praggor was\r\nsaying. "He will give you additional lines in detail if you should so\r\ndesire. Don\'t bankrupt yourself on that celebration. Congratulations.\r\nSee my secretary about your account on the way out. Good-by."\r\n\r\nIn a daze he paid his bill, forced himself calmly to go down the lift,\r\nonto the move-walks and into the Transport Building.\r\n\r\nDully, he noticed his hands hurt. His fists were clenched, his nails\r\nhad dug into the flesh, and his palms were bleeding. The spreading\r\nflecks of crimson mingled splotchily with the sweat. He should go\r\nsomewhere and disinfect the wounds.\r\n\r\nBut that could wait. He had to get back to his office and read\r\nthe true report. Praggor was probably transporting the charts and\r\ndiagnosis at this instant.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe entered Booth 217 and sat down. In minutes now he would know\r\nwhether his basic theory was correct--that man _could_ be master of\r\nhis own destiny, and _could_ change his predicted Life-Lines. His\r\ntheory _had_ to be correct!\r\n\r\nIt was futile and useless to think that man was nothing more than a\r\nhelpless pawn--with his life laid out from birth until death by some\r\nUnknown Great Factor in some Great Unknown Game. That would be a\r\ndevastating knowledge.\r\n\r\nBut no! He would learn his own future and change it! Then he would\r\ntake his evidence to the Supreme Medical Council and prove that\r\nmankind could avoid certain unhappy paths of life if warned in\r\nadvance. Then doctors like himself would be able to lead people along\r\nlines to ultimate happiness.\r\n\r\nHis tension increased as the technicians droned on and on with their\r\nadjustments. If only his own future wasn\'t too bad! If only he could\r\nkeep his sanity!\r\n\r\nThe "All Clear" signal flashed, the lights winked off. He hurried out\r\nof the booth and into a gyrocab, up to his office, through the door,\r\nand saw Freckle-nose sitting at her desk, calmly powdering her nose.\r\n\r\n"Well," she said, wrinkling her nose so the freckles quivered, "you\'re\r\nseven minutes late. Why can\'t handsome young doctors ever be on time?"\r\n\r\n"Sorry," he said breathlessly. "That report on Bradbury. Where is it?"\r\n\r\n"Oh--that? It just came through. I put it on your desk. Let it wait\r\nuntil tomorrow. I don\'t want you to get wrapped up in a P.L.L.\r\ndiagnosis for hours and hours when we\'ve got a date. I\'ve found a new\r\nplace to go."\r\n\r\n"Sorry, honey," he muttered. "This is important."\r\n\r\nHe ran into his inner office and ripped open the report,\r\n\r\n 26, Novemberi, 243 G. T.\r\n Manya Clinic\r\n New Paris, MARS\r\n\r\n TO: Dr. Jules Craig, P.L.L.\r\n Stanton-Greenstone Center\r\n 5th., Wing, 82nd., Level\r\n Greater NYC--EARTH\r\n\r\n Dear Jules:\r\n\r\n Thanks for the patient. An interesting, but unfortunate case. Since\r\n he was a friend of yours I was extremely careful in the diagnosis.\r\n\r\n Younger Bradbury turned in excellent reports. But since I\r\n definitely did not like the diagnosis on the first run, I ran it\r\n through three times personally, to make sure. Inclosed you will\r\n find copies of all three charts. Since this man was a friend of\r\n yours I am deeply sorry. I advise you to stay away from him from\r\n this moment on.\r\n\r\n The energy line, in this patient\'s case, that I find bewildering is\r\n the sudden rise of the mental factor C3. You will notice on Chart\r\n II that it rises rapidly up and beyond Marko\'s Constant with an\r\n intensity of 3.017 degrees. I have never been confronted with a\r\n case of such extreme mental deterioration in such a short period\r\n of time. This man will soon become dangerously insane.\r\n\r\n You will see in his charts that from some unknown phobia buried\r\n in his own mind that this man is going quickly insane, and in his\r\n insanity will unknowingly commit three horrible murders before he\r\n is apprehended and executed. And one of these unfortunate murders\r\n will be the death of someone very close to him.\r\n\r\n Naturally, my medical ethics would not permit me to inform this man\r\n of his unhappy destiny. I gave him the usual, routine soothing talk\r\n so necessary in sad cases.\r\n\r\n In an attempt to account for his sudden mental breakdown, I traced\r\n the K4 and K5 lines, the physical and love factors, and found a\r\n sharp break which I interpreted as a sudden, unexplainable reversal\r\n of feeling, or intention, due to some hidden fear only apparent to\r\n himself, toward someone very dear in his emotional background.\r\n\r\n However, I don\'t understand how a physical factor or reversal of\r\n feeling, is strong enough to cause such a mental breakdown as\r\n indicated. I think these are secondary reactions from some hidden\r\n fear or else some sudden unexpected shock. I wish we knew more\r\n about this type of case. I wish I could have said something to this\r\n patient, but with his tragic future, as you know, it is forbidden.\r\n\r\n Be sure to attend the Medical Reunion. Like to see you.\r\n\r\n Sincerely, your old classmate,\r\n\r\n William Praggor, P.L.L.\r\n Level 186--Bldg. 12\r\n Manya Clinic\r\n New Paris, MARS\r\n\r\nSilently, the door opened.\r\n\r\n"There you are, reading some of those old charts again." Freckle-nose\r\nedged her slim body up on the desk and pulled the charts from his lax\r\nfingers. "Tonight is my turn to ask you to marry me--remember?"\r\n\r\n"No!" Dr. Craig said in a dull voice, and felt the first part of the\r\nphobia steal slyly into his brain.\r\n\r\n"You see?" it said mockingly, and hungrily began to eat away at his\r\nbrain.\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU ARE FORBIDDEN! ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'The warlord of Mars'

'Burroughs, Edgar Rice'

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'The Master of the World'

'Verne, Jules'

b'The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Master of the World, by Jules Verne\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. 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'Pemrose Lorry, Camp Fire Girl'

'Hornibrook, Isabel'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Pemrose Lorry, Camp Fire Girl\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Pemrose Lorry, Camp Fire Girl\r\n\r\nAuthor: Isabel Hornibrook\r\n\r\nRelease date: March 23, 2010 [eBook #31748]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEMROSE LORRY, CAMP FIRE GIRL ***\r\n\r\n\r\nE-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team (http://www.fadedpage.com)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\r\n file which includes the original illustrations.\r\n See 31748-h.htm or 31748-h.zip:\r\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/31748/pg31748-images.html)\r\n or\r\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/31748/31748-h.zip)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPEMROSE LORRY\r\n\r\nCAMP FIRE GIRL\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nBy\r\n\r\nISABEL HORNIBROOK\r\n\r\nDRAKE OF TROOP ONE\r\n\r\nSCOUT DRAKE IN WAR TIME\r\n\r\nCOXSWAIN DRAKE OF THE SEASCOUTS\r\n\r\nPEMROSE LORRY: CAMP FIRE GIRL\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Not a remote sign of a biplane decorated the sky overhead.\r\nFrontispiece. See page 171.]\r\n\r\n\r\nPEMROSE LORRY\r\n\r\nCAMP FIRE GIRL\r\n\r\nby\r\n\r\nISABEL HORNIBROOK\r\n\r\nWith Illustrations by Nana French Bickford\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\nBoston\r\nLittle, Brown, and Company\r\n1921\r\n\r\nCopyright, 1921,\r\nBy Little, Brown, and Company.\r\nAll rights reserved\r\n\r\nPublished October, 1921\r\n\r\nNorwood Press\r\n\r\nSet up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co.\r\nNorwood, Mass., U. S. A.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, VETERAN AUTHOR,\r\nWHO FIRST HAD AN ADMIRATION FOR THE WISE WOMAN\r\nWHO SAVED THE CITY, THIS STORY IS DEDICATED.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPREFACE\r\n\r\nThis, the first story written upon the latest and unique conquest of the\r\nage, the conquest of empty Space, with the subsequent reaching out to\r\nthe Heavenly Bodies, has the permission of the conquering inventor,\r\nProfessor Robert H. Goddard.\r\n\r\nMay it bring to every Camp Fire in America, and to boys as well, the\r\nromance of the transcendent achievement, beside which all dressing of\r\nfiction pales!\r\n\r\nThe Author also acknowledges her indebtedness to Professor Frank G.\r\nSpeck for permission to reprint the music of the Leaf Dance.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONTENTS\r\n Chapter Page\r\n I. A QUAKER GUN 1\r\n II. GIMCRACK ICE 20\r\n III. THE WRONG SIDE OF HER DREAM 31\r\n IV. THE SECOND WRECK 40\r\n V. SHE SAVED A CITY 49\r\n VI. A HOTSPUR 60\r\n VII. THE PINNACLE 69\r\n VIII. A USURPER 78\r\n IX. JACK AT A PINCH 86\r\n X. CAMP FIRE SISTERS 98\r\n XI. MOTHER EARTH\'S ROMANCE 109\r\n XII. OLD ROUND-TOP 124\r\n XIII. COBWEB WEED 134\r\n XIV. STOUTHEART 147\r\n XV. AIRDRAWN A\xc3\x8bROPLANES 160\r\n XVI. THE COUNCIL FIRE 174\r\n XVII. A NOVEL SANTA CLAUS 190\r\n XVIII. REPRISALS 207\r\n XIX. A RECORD FLIGHT 229\r\n XX. THE SEARCH 244\r\n XXI. THE MAN KILLER 262\r\n XXII. A JUNE WOMAN 280\r\n XXIII. THE CELESTIAL CLIMAX 296\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nILLUSTRATIONS\r\n\r\nNot a remote sign of a biplane decorated the sky overhead Frontispiece\r\n\r\n"Oh! de-ar Mammy Moon--what a shock she\'ll get" PAGE 2\r\n\r\n"Keep cool! Don\'t stir! I\'ll reach you in a moment!" 86\r\n\r\nThe man looked up at her, some dash of whimsical fire\r\n mastering weakness 268\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPEMROSE LORRY\r\n\r\nCAMP FIRE GIRL\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER I\r\n\r\nA QUAKER GUN\r\n\r\n\r\n"And will the Thunder Bird really lay its egg upon the moon? Such a hard\r\negg, too! Will it--really--drop a pound weight of steel upon the head of\r\nthe Man in the Moon?... Oh! de-ar Mammy Moon--what a shock she\'ll get."\r\n\r\nThe girl, the fifteen-year-old Camp Fire Girl--all but sixteen now--to\r\nwhom Mammy Moon had been the fairy foster-mother of her childhood, ever\r\nsince she lay, wakeful, in her little cot, looking up at that silvery\r\nface of a burnt-out satellite, picturing it the gate of Heaven and her\r\nmother\'s spirit as bathed in the soft, lunar radiance behind it, caught\r\nher breath with a wild little gasp whose triumph was a sob upon the\r\nstill laboratory air.\r\n\r\n"Lay its egg in a nest of the moon! A dead nest! It will do more than\r\nthat, little Pem!" Toandoah, the inventor, turned from fitting a number\r\nof tiny sky-rockets into the supply chamber of a larger one,--turned\r\nwith that living coal of fire in his eye which only the inventor can\r\nknow, and looked upon his daughter. "Yes, it will do more than that! The\r\nThunder Bird will lay its golden egg for us--if it drops its expiring\r\none upon the moon. It will send us back the first record from space, the\r\nvery first information as to what it may be that lies up--away up--a\r\ncouple of hundred miles, or so, above us, in the outer edges of the\r\nearth\'s atmosphere of which less is known at present than of the deepest\r\nsoundings of the ocean. Our Thunder Bird will be the--first--explorer."\r\n\r\n[Illustration: "Oh! de-ar Mammy Moon--what a shock she\'ll get." Page 2.]\r\n\r\nThe man\'s eyes were dim now. For a moment he saw as in a prism the work\r\nof his fingers, those little explosive rockets--the charges of smokeless\r\npowder--which being discharged automatically in flight, would send the\r\nThunder Bird upon its magic way, roaring its challenge to the world to\r\nlisten, switching its rose-red tail of light.\r\n\r\nThen--then as the mist cleared those deep, glowing eyes of his became to\r\nhis daughter a magic lantern by which she saw a series of pictures\r\nthrown upon the sheeting whitewash of the laboratory wall, culminating\r\nin one which was almost too dazzling for mortal girl of fifteen--though\r\nborn of a great inventor--to bear.\r\n\r\n"And to think," she cried, rising upon tiptoe, swaying there in the\r\nFebruary sunlight, "just to think that it\'s a Camp Fire Girl--a Camp\r\nFire Girl of America--with the eyes of the world upon her, who will push\r\nthe button, throw the switch upon a mountain-top, launch the Thunder\r\nBird upon its glor-i-ous way, send off--send off the first\r\nearth-valentine to Mammy Moon!... Oh! Toandoah--oh! Daddy-man--it\'s too\r\nmuch."\r\n\r\nPemrose Lorry clasped her hands. Her blue-star eyes, blue at the moment\r\nas the tiny blossoms of the meadow star-grass for which some fairy has\r\ncaptured a sky-beam, were suddenly wet.\r\n\r\nA slim, girlish figure in forest green--last sylvan word in Camp Fire\r\nuniforms which she was trying on--she hung there, poised upon an inner\r\npinnacle, while sunbeams racing down the whitewash did obeisance before\r\nher, while spectroscope, lathe and delicate balances, brilliant\r\nreflectors, offered her a brazen crown.\r\n\r\n"Well--well, it\'s coming to you, Pem--you sprite." Her father shot a\r\nsidelong glance at the nixie green as he fitted another little rocket\r\ninto its groove in the larger one\'s interior, where the touch of a\r\nmechanical appliance, like the trigger of a gun, in the Thunder Bird\'s\r\ntail, would ignite it in flight. "You alone, girl as you are, know the\r\nfull secret of the Thunder Bird, as you romantically call it, the\r\nprinciple on which I am working, child--in so far as you can understand\r\nit--in creating this model rocket for experiments and the master\r\nsky-rocket, the full-fledged Thunder Bird, later, to soar even to the\r\nmoon itself--Mars, too, maybe--you alone know and you have kept it dark.\r\nYou\'ve plugged like a boy at your elementary physics in high school,\r\nso\'s to be _able_ to understand and sympathize--you\'ve lived up to\r\nthe name I gave you--"\r\n\r\n"My chowchow name!" interjected the girl, winking slily.\r\n\r\n"Well! it is a mixture." Her father echoed her chuckle. "But I guess\r\nyou\'ve been son and daughter both, you good little pal--you sprite of\r\nthe lab."\r\n\r\n"Oh! Toandoah--oh! Daddy-man--I\'m so glad."\r\n\r\nHere there was a little laboratory explosion, a rocket of feeling fired\r\noff, as the owner of that hybrid name, Pemrose, came down from her\r\npinnacle and, perching upon a low tool-chest at the inventor\'s side,\r\ntook the humbler place she loved,--fellow of her father\'s heart.\r\n\r\n"I--I used to wish I was all boy until I became a Camp Fire Girl; that\r\nbettered the betty element a little," she confided, the spice of her\r\nmixed cognomen floating in her eye.\r\n\r\nIt was a joke with her, that chowchow name--original mixture--and how\r\nshe came by it.\r\n\r\nHer father, Professor Guy Noel Lorry, Fellow of Nevil\r\nUniversity,--Toandoah, the inventor, she called him,--wearing his\r\nsymbol, a saw-toothed triangle, embroidered with her own upon her\r\nceremonial dress--had at one time almost prayed for a son, a boy who\r\nmight help him to realize the dream, even then taking hold upon his\r\nheart, of conquering not the air alone but space--zero space, in which\r\nit was thought nothing could travel--so that old Earth might reach out\r\nto her sister planets.\r\n\r\nHe planned to call the boy Pemberton after his own father.\r\n\r\nLikewise the mother of the maiden in green now seated upon the tool-box\r\nhad longed for a daughter and aspired to name her Rose, in tender memory\r\nof a dear college chum, a flower no longer blooming upon earth.\r\n\r\nAnd when the little black-haired mite in due time came, when she opened\r\nupon her father eyes blue as the empyrean he hoped to conquer, he had\r\ncried out of a core of transport lurking in the very heart of\r\ndisappointment: "Oh! by Jove, I can\'t quite give up my dream: let\'s name\r\nher Pemrose. If she had been a boy, I\'d have called her Pem."\r\n\r\nThe young mother blissfully agreed--and did not live long to call her\r\nanything.\r\n\r\nGrown to girlhood, the sprite of the laboratory, who had looked through\r\na spectroscope at seven, clapping her small hands over the fairy\r\ncolors--pure red, orange, green, blue, violet, separated by little dark,\r\nthread-like lines, each representing some element in that far-away upper\r\nair which her father hoped to master--preferred for herself the boyish\r\nPem to the oft-worn Rose.\r\n\r\nBut in order to square accounts with what she called the "betty" element\r\nin her, she evened things up on becoming a Camp Fire Girl by choosing a\r\nname all feminine wherewith to be known by the Council Fire.\r\n\r\nWantaam, signifying Wisdom--a Wise Woman--was the title she bore as one\r\nwho wore the Fire Maker\'s bracelet upon her wrist and had pledged\r\nherself to tend as her fathers had tended and her fathers\' fathers since\r\ntime began, that inner, mystic flame which has lit man\'s way to progress\r\nfrom the moment when he forged a bludgeon to conquer his own world,\r\nuntil, to-day, when he was inventing a Bird to invade others.\r\n\r\nAnd it was that Wise Woman who spoke now; she, of all others, who knew\r\nthe secret of the magic Thunder Bird; and who, trustworthy to the core,\r\nhad "kept it dark."\r\n\r\n"Oh! if I\'ve \'plugged\' hard in the past over those fierce first\r\nprinciples of mechanics, electricity, optics, heat and the rest--and\r\nthose \'grueling\' laws of gravitation--that\'s just nothing, a scantling\r\ncompared to the way I\'m going to study and make a hit when I get on into\r\ncollege," she cried; "so--so that, some day, I can, really, work with\r\nyou, Toandoah--you record-breaking inventor--oh! dearest father ever\r\nwas."\r\n\r\nLaughingly, passionately she flung an arm around the neck of the man in\r\nthe long, drab laboratory coat, half strangling him as he bent over the\r\ntwo-foot model rocket, testing it with his soul in his finger-tips, from\r\nits cone-shaped steel head to its steering compartment, thence to the\r\nsupply chamber with all the little propelling rockets in it, down to its\r\ncomplicated nozzle, or tail.\r\n\r\n"Why--why! there\'s no knowing what you and I may be doing yet, when we\r\nstrain our wits to cracking, is there, Daddy-man?" she exulted further.\r\n"You say, yourself, that once space is conquered, that horribly cold old\r\nzero space outside the earth\'s atmosphere, anything devised that will\r\nmove through it, as our Thunder Bird can do, then--then there\'s no\r\nlimit! We might be shooting a passenger off to the moon now, provided\r\nthe Man in the Moon would shoot him back," gayly, "if only the master\r\nsky-rocket, twelve times as large as this little model you\'re working on\r\nfor experiments, were ready. The re-al moon-going Thunder Bird! Oh,\r\ndear!" Her little fingers restlessly intertwined. "How--how I can\r\nhar-rdly wait to throw the switch upon a mountaintop and--watch it\r\n_tear_, as the college boys say!"\r\n\r\n"Sometimes--sometimes I\'m inclined to think it will never \'tear\'; that\r\nanother than I will be the first to reach the heavenly bodies." Toandoah\r\nsighed. "For where are the funds coming from, Pem, the little\r\nbonanza--fairy gold-mine--necessary to gorge our Thunder Bird for its\r\nrecord flight--fit it out for its novel migration to the moon, eh?" The\r\ninventor clasped his hands behind his head, whistling ruefully. "Funds,\r\nchild! Already, it has pecked through the biggest slice of mine!"\r\n\r\n"Ah! but--ah! but--" the girl suddenly flashed upon him a sky-blue\r\nwink--"ah! but the third _nut_ hasn\'t been cracked yet, remember,\r\nfor the Bird to peck at that. Isn\'t it in four weeks from now--oh! in\r\nfive--" the slight figure swaying like the blue-eyed grass upon its tall\r\ngreen stem, blown by a wild breeze--"in five weeks from now that the\r\nthird drawer will be opened, containing the third and last installment\r\nof Mr. Hartley Graham\'s queer, queer drawn-out will. When it is--oh!\r\nwhen it is--maybe, then, at last, there will be something coming to the\r\nUniversity, our University, to benefit your inventions, Daddy."\r\n\r\n"My child! when that third nut is cracked, \'twill only benefit a \'nut\'."\r\nThe man chuckled drily now. "In other words, the remainder of Friend\r\nHartley\'s fortune, all that his sister, Mrs. Grosvenor, hasn\'t already\r\ngot, will still be held in trust by me, as executor of the will,\r\nfor--for that griffin of a younger brother of his who cleared out over\r\ntwenty years ago and hasn\'t sent a line to his family since."\r\n\r\n"Was Mr. Treffrey Graham--really--such a--zany?" Pem asked the question\r\nfor the nineteenth time, her black eyebrows arching.\r\n\r\n"My word! \'Was he?\' A--a regular hippogriff he was, child! A hot tamale,\r\nlike that Mexican fruit which burns you if you bite into it! At college\r\none could hardly come near him without getting scorched by his tricks.\r\nRemember my telling you about my putting in an appearance in class one\r\nday--Physics 3--boasting of the latest thing in student\'s bags, setting\r\nit down beside me--and not seeing it again for three weeks? The terrible\r\nTreff, of course! The climax came, as you know, when he locked a\r\ngray-haired professor into the padded cell for opposing baseball too\r\nearly in the season, while the campus was still soft."\r\n\r\n"Mer-rcy! And kept him there for ages--in that stuffy little room, all\r\nwadded and lined with brown burlap, used for analyzing sound--the prof\r\nnot able to make himself heard!"\r\n\r\nThe listener, girl-like, drew fresh excitement from a faded tale.\r\n\r\n"Yes--that meant expulsion, of course, and his family, one and all,\r\nturning a cold shoulder on Treff, before he went away for good--nobody\r\nknew where. His engagement was broken off. His brother Hartley saw to\r\nthat--married the girl himself."\r\n\r\n"I wonder--I wonder if the Terrible Treff ever married?" Pem musingly\r\nnursed her chin,--and with it a wildfire interest in the "hot tamale."\r\n\r\n"I heard he did. Somebody said so--somebody who met him out West, years\r\nago--that he was a widower, with a little son. But--apparently--he has\r\nno more use for his family."\r\n\r\n"No more--no more than his sister, Mrs. Grosvenor, has for us since you\r\nwere made executor of that outlandish will, left, piecemeal in three\r\ndrawers, to be opened on the first three anniversaries of Mr. Graham\'s\r\ndeath--and not her husband!" Now it was an entirely new breeze of\r\nexcitement, a stiffening, pinching draught, which swept the forest-green\r\nfigure upon the tool-chest until its voice grew thin and sharp and edged\r\nas the blades in the box beneath it. "Oh-h, yes! she\'s at daggers\r\ndr-rawn with us now--on her high ropes all the time, as you\'d say.\r\nAnd--and she sneers at your inventions, father! She calls the rocket,\r\nthe rocket," half-hysterically, "the moon-reaching rocket,--a Quaker\r\ngun--a Quaker gun that\'ll never be fired, never go off--never hit\r\nanything!... _Oh-h!_"\r\n\r\nWith her hand to her green breast at the insult, the girl bounded,\r\nblindly as a ball, from her box, across the laboratory--and on to a low\r\nplatform.\r\n\r\nThrough her raging young body there shot like a physical cramp the\r\nknowledge that Quakers, noble-hearted Friends, did not use any guns;\r\nthat the mocking term was but a by-word, a jesting synonym for all that\r\nwas impotent--non-existent in reason and power--a dummy.\r\n\r\nSavagely she applied her eye to the tall, ten-foot spectroscope rearing\r\nits brazen height from this low pedestal.\r\n\r\nWithout, beyond the glaring white-washed laboratory, was a February\r\nworld, equally white, of zero ice and snow.\r\n\r\nThrough the spectroscope she saw a world in flames--blood-red.\r\n\r\nIt was not more flaming than her thoughts.\r\n\r\nHer father\'s transcendent invention just a faddist\'s dream! The Thunder\r\nBird a joke--a _Quaker Gun_!\r\n\r\n"Bah!" Convulsively her little teeth bit into her lower lip as she\r\nadjusted the telescope portion of the instrument for analyzing\r\nlight--reducing it to prismatic hues--a little.\r\n\r\nAnd now, lo! a world brilliantly jaundiced--her orange--the snow being a\r\nwonderful reflector of the sun\'s divided rays.\r\n\r\n"Father! Father-r! I used to love Una Grosvenor. Now I h-hate her! If\r\nher mother made that hor-rid speech about a Quaker gun, she repeated it,\r\nbefore all the boys and girls in our Drama Class, too! If I see her this\r\nafternoon at the Ski Club, the skiing party out at Poplar Hill, I shan\'t\r\nspeak to her. And we used to be so chummy! Why--" the girl fluttered\r\nnow, a green weathercock, upon the two-foot platform--"why, we used to\r\nstand side by side and measure eyelashes, to see which pair was going to\r\nbe the longer. I\'ll wager mine are now!"\r\n\r\nWith a veering laugh the weathercock was here bent forward, striving to\r\ncatch some brazen glimpse of a winking profile in the polished brass of\r\nthe spectroscope.\r\n\r\nHer father laughed: this was the Rose side of her--of his maiden of the\r\npatchwork name--the Rose side of her, and he loved it!\r\n\r\n"But--but Poplar Hill! Poplar Hill! Why! that\'s away outside the city\r\nline--out at Merryville," he exclaimed, a minute later, in\r\nconsternation. "Goodness! child, you\'re not going off there to ski\r\nto-day--in a zero world, everything snowbound, no trolley cars running?"\r\n\r\n"Oh! the trains--the trains aren\'t held up, father." The coaxing\r\nweathercock now had a green arm around the neck of the man in the long,\r\ndrab coat. "And I just couldn\'t give up going! I\'m becoming such a\r\ndaring ski-runner, Daddy-man; you\'ll be proud of me when you see! Why! I\r\ncan almost herring-bone uphill; and I\'m getting the kick-turn \'down\r\nfine.\' Darting, gliding, stemming, jumping downhill--oh! it\'s such\r\nperfect fun, such creamy fun; I\'m not a girl any longer, I\'m just a\r\nswallow."\r\n\r\n"One swallow doesn\'t make a summer; all this doesn\'t change the\r\nweather." The inventor glanced anxiously through a window.\r\n\r\n"No, but it\'s such a very short train-run. Pouf! only six miles on the\r\ntwo o\'clock express bound north, why--why! the very train that you and I\r\nwill be taking, later, Daddy-man, along in May, when you try out\r\nexperiments with that little model rocket you\'re working on now, upon\r\nold Mount Greylock--highest mountain of the State. Oh-h! if ever a\r\ngirl\'s thumb itched, mine does to press the little electric button and\r\nstart it off, to fly up a couple of hundred miles, or so, to send you\r\nback your golden egg, siree--the first record from space. Oh! through\r\nall the fun of slope and snow I\'ll be thinking of that the entire time\r\nto-day--the whole, enduring, livelong time. Yes!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER II\r\n\r\nGIMCRACK ICE\r\n\r\n\r\nShe was thinking of it two hours later--having gained her coaxing\r\npoint--seated in the well-nigh empty parlor car of the north-bound\r\nexpress, that green-aisled Pullman being the first car behind the cab\r\nand plodding engine which, regardless of schedule, crept along slowly\r\nand warily to-day upon ice-shod rails.\r\n\r\nBut as she caressed the honorable thumb--the little girlish member which\r\nwould press the button while all the world wondered--and peered out\r\nthrough a window fairly frosted, lo! again she saw a landscape dimly in\r\nflames--blood-red--as viewed through the spectroscope of her own raging\r\nthoughts.\r\n\r\nFor ice was within the car, as without.\r\n\r\nThere--there, seated almost on a line with her, on the other side of the\r\nmoss-green aisle, and only three other distant passengers in the\r\ncompartment, was the girl whose caricaturing tongue had repeated the\r\nindelible insult about a Quaker gun; whose mother considered her father\r\na mere chuckle-headed dreamer, with his visions of bridging the absolute\r\nzero of space--just a mild three hundred degrees, or so, lower than the\r\nbiting breath of Mother Earth at the present moment--and reaching worlds\r\nfar away amid the starry scope.\r\n\r\nPemrose had kept her word about not speaking. She just dropped one\r\npointed little icicle in the shape of a nod upon her one-time friend as\r\nshe sank into her own swivel chair and threw off the heavy coat with\r\nwhich she had covered her ski-runner\'s silken wind-jacket and belted\r\nskiing costume of pure, creamy wool, with its full freedom of\r\nknickerbockers.\r\n\r\n"There\'s Una--Una Grosvenor!" Her face frosted over at the thought. "Oh,\r\nmer-rcy! how I hate her--shall everlastingly hate her--for passing on\r\nthat sneer about the Thunder Bird.... And I know-ow her eyelashes aren\'t\r\nas long as mine now!"\r\n\r\nMingled spice was in the furtive glance which Toandoah\'s little pal, his\r\nmaiden of the chowchow name, threw across the narrow train-aisle at the\r\ndelicate young profile opposite, outlined against a crusted window.\r\n\r\n"And she still has that funny little near-sighted stand in one of her\r\ndark eyes, too--Una! Although they\'re pretty eyes--I\'ll admit that!"\r\nmused the critic further. "Goodness! won\'t she open them one of these\r\ndays when the world is all ringing with talk of Dad and his rocket: when\r\nthe Thunder Bird, the finished, full-fledged Thunder Bird, undertakes\r\nits hundred-hour flight to the moon.... For, oh! I know-ow that it will\r\ngo, some day--some day." The girl stared passionately now into the\r\nfuture in the frostscript of the pane near her. "Man would not let it\r\nfail, God _could_ not let it fail--just for lack of funds--however\r\nthat third nut may turn out--that third section of a queer will!"\r\n\r\nAnd now the mulled world outside changed again, shading from blood-red\r\nto fairy rose-color as seen through the spectroscope of hope.\r\n\r\nShe became lost in the most magnificent dream that ever entranced a Camp\r\nFire Girl yet--with any hope of fulfillment.\r\n\r\nStanding of a starless night upon a lofty mountain-top, she was looking\r\nup at Mammy Moon, dear, silver-footed Queen, so near to the heart of\r\nevery Earth-daughter!\r\n\r\nIn the darkness she felt the eyes of the whole world upon her--she but a\r\nsatellite reflecting her father\'s light--its joint ear was bent to catch\r\nthe wild, triumphal song-sob of her heart.\r\n\r\nAnd at the words: "Ready! Shoot!", Toandoah\'s battle-cry, she was\r\npressing the electric button which, connected with a switch in the\r\nThunder Bird\'s tail, would start it off, pointed directly for the moon,\r\nto light up that silver disc with a bright powder-flash visible here on\r\nearth.\r\n\r\nShe was mesmerized by its wild, red eye. She was watching it switch its\r\nrosy tail feathers, two hundred feet long, that dashing explorer, as,\r\nroaring, it leaped from its mountain platform at incredible speed for an\r\nincredible flight.\r\n\r\nShe was echoing the college boys\' untamed slogan: "Watch it tear; oh!\r\nwatch it tear--the fire-eater."\r\n\r\nShe....\r\n\r\nBut what--what was this? Was she tearing with it? Was she, she herself,\r\njust a shocked girl, at the heart of its rapid-fire explosions?\r\n\r\nWas she being hurled with it through space, blank space, Absolute Zero,\r\nbelow what human instrument could register,--or human girl encounter and\r\nlive?\r\n\r\nAll she knew was that she was being flung, first forward, then backward;\r\nand then, oh, horrors! against the train window near her where glass was\r\nall splintering and crashing, through which ice and water, mad, mad\r\nwater and ice, were rushing together.\r\n\r\nThere was an awful, punching jolt, a frenzied shriek of steam, a\r\nsplashing, hissing roar--that, surely, could not be the steel Thunder\r\nBird\'s challenge, unless it had suddenly become a wading goose--and, lo!\r\nshe was hurled straight out of her dream across a Pullman aisle, fast\r\nflooding, right into the girl with whom she had once vainly measured\r\neyelashes,--between whom and herself had existed that thin bridge of ice\r\nbut one little minute before.\r\n\r\nAlas! poor human ice that couldn\'t stand a moment under the blows of\r\nNature\'s ice-hammer.\r\n\r\nBoth pairs of girlish lashes were stark with terror now.\r\n\r\n"Una! Una! _Una!_ Ac-ci-dent! Tr-rain accident! Gone\r\nthrough--through into--the--lake!" moaned Pemrose, half stunned, yet\r\nconscious, as she was ten seconds before, that they had been crossing\r\nfrozen water.\r\n\r\nWater! A pale pond, now plainly seen through awful, swirling,\r\nwave-blocked window-gaps! Yet across its wan and shattering crust there\r\nshone a trail of fire, red fire, heart fire--vivid at that moment as the\r\nThunder Bird\'s pink tail feathers switching through the space of\r\nhorror--and somewhere in that stretched consciousness which is beyond\r\nthinking, Toandoah\'s daughter knew that it was the Camp Fire training in\r\npresence of mind.\r\n\r\n"Una! M-mer-rcy! Una! Water\'s r-rushing in-n--in so fast--through\r\nwindows--doors ahead--m-may dr-rown right here, \'less we can f-fight\r\nit--get out," was her struggling cry as, paddling desperately like a\r\nlittle dog, she found herself topping the flood, that lashing, interned\r\nlake-water, now blotting out window-frames on one side of the\r\ncar--groping with icy fingers for the painted ceiling of the\r\nPullman--then undulatingly sinking below them on the other.\r\n\r\nFor it was a case just half-a-minute before, while Pem was still\r\nsanguinely loosing the Thunder Bird, of small pony-wheels on the big\r\nexpress engine striking a frog in the rails, an icy groove, and\r\nskidding,--then recklessly plunging down four feet, those runaway\r\nponies, from the low bridge which they were crossing on to the ice,\r\ndragging the engine, the cab and the two front cars with them.\r\n\r\nAnd now--now--to the inventor\'s daughter, the girl-mechanic, who had\r\nplugged so hard at her high school physics that she might understand her\r\nfather\'s work, came a thought that was worse, worse even than the hiss\r\nof the imprisoned flood, tossing her like a cork: the engine might\r\nexplode--the sneezing, sobbing engine, with the steam condensing in its\r\nboilers--wreck the car she was in--she and Una!\r\n\r\nNo! She did not think of herself alone. All the frail girlish ice was a\r\ngimcrack now.\r\n\r\nBut the terrors of the swamped car, that snuffling threat of steam\r\nahead--a deep bass uz-z-z!--momentarily made a gimcrack of other things\r\ntoo--of everything but the desperate instinct to get out--free, somehow.\r\n\r\nCalling upon Una to follow, she headed for a dripping window-gap, to\r\nseize the moment when the flood, now lower upon that side, might give\r\nher a chance to paddle through--scramble through--escape on to the\r\ncracking ice, before the opening was again blotted out.\r\n\r\nBut together with the cruelty of glass-splinters, ice-spars scratching\r\nher set face, came the shock of an inner splinter: an inkling, somehow,\r\nthat Una was helpless, could not follow, that, battered by concussion,\r\ntossing like a log upon the flood\'s breast, her senses had almost left\r\nher.\r\n\r\nMany waters cannot quench love--the love of a daughter for her\r\ngenius-father.\r\n\r\nIn that moment--that moment--there leaped up in the breast of Toandoah\'s\r\nchild the fire, the red fire, which alone can carry anything higher, be\r\nit rocket or girl\'s heart.\r\n\r\nThey had called her father\'s invention a joke, a Quaker gun, Una and her\r\nmother.\r\n\r\n_Never_ should they say that of his daughter\'s pluck: that it was a\r\ndummy which would hit no mark,--or only to save itself!\r\n\r\n"Una!" Wildly she seized the other girl\'s creamy flannels, buoyed like a\r\ngreat, pale water-lily upon the imprisoned lake-water. "Catch--c-catch\r\nme by the belt--Una! I--I\'ll try-y to save you! Oh-h! s-stick ti-ight\r\nnow."\r\n\r\nAnd the daughter of the man, still sitting afar in his quiet laboratory,\r\nfitting little powder charges into a model Thunder Bird, set\r\nherself to battle through the swirling gap of that half-covered\r\nwindow-frame--clutched and hampered now--yet upholding, even if it was\r\nher daring death-thought, Toandoah\'s honor in the flood.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER III\r\n\r\nTHE WRONG SIDE OF HER DREAM\r\n\r\n\r\nThe ice had been thick-ribbed, product of a bitter winter, but it could\r\nnot withstand the shock of a hundred and eighty tons of leaping\r\nlocomotive--it splintered in all directions.\r\n\r\nOf the whole long train, however, only two cars and the cab had followed\r\nthe engine\'s plunge when those skidding pony-wheels turned traitor, and\r\nwere now ice-bound and flooded in the middle of a small lake, while the\r\nremainder of the fast express, with one coach actually standing on its\r\nhead, hanging pendent between the ice and the bridge, was not submerged.\r\n\r\nIt was as if a steel bar were hurled violently at that solid ice, when\r\none end only would pierce the crust and the remainder be left sticking,\r\nslanting, up.\r\n\r\nWhen Pemrose, a Camp Fire Girl of America, greater at that moment than\r\nwhen her hand should loose the Thunder Bird, because she was determined\r\nthat whatever might be said of her father\'s invention, nobody should\r\never say that his daughter\'s courage was a Quaker gun, paddled through\r\nthe window-gap of that swamped Pullman, towing Una, she found herself in\r\nsuch a vortex of zero water and shattered ice that all the strength\r\nbehind her gasping breath turned suddenly dummy.\r\n\r\n"S-stick tight, Una! Oh-h! stick tight," was the one little whiff that\r\nspeech could get off before it froze--froze stiff behind her chattering\r\nteeth, in the pinched channel of her throat.\r\n\r\nAnd then--then--she was clinging to the jagged spur of an ice-cake, her\r\nleft hand convulsively clutching Una\'s flannels, while the eddies in the\r\nhalf-liberated water around them, spreading from a blue-cold center to a\r\nwhite ring, made horrid eyes--goggle-eyes--which stared at them.\r\n\r\nTo Pem--little visionary--plunged from her dreams of pressing the magic\r\nbutton on a mountain-top, of watching the Thunder Bird tear, tear away\r\nmoonward, switching its long tail of light, the whole thing seemed an\r\nillusion--the wrong side of her dream.\r\n\r\nIt was as if she had soared with that monster rocket, Toandoah\'s\r\ninvention, outside the earth\'s atmosphere, were being hurled about in\r\nthe horrible vacuum of space, its unplumbed heart of cold, so far--so\r\nannihilatingly far below the balmy zero point of old Mother Earth on a\r\nFebruary day when two light-hearted girls were going skiing.\r\n\r\nShe was growing numb.\r\n\r\nIn vain did her waterproof wind-jacket, the ski-runner\'s belted jacket\r\nof thin and trusty silk, defend, like a faithful wing--a warm, conscious\r\nwing--the upper part of her body.\r\n\r\nThe deadly water was encroaching, clasping her waist with an icy\r\ngirdle,--stealing under it, even to her armpits.\r\n\r\nAnd the petrifying little hand which had left its fistling in the\r\ntrain,--the thick mitten that should have grasped the balancing stick in\r\nall the wild swallow-fun of climbing, stemming, darting amid slope and\r\nsnow upon a wintry hillside--could not hold on very long to the glacial\r\nspur.\r\n\r\nThe ice-cake was threatening to slip away, to seesaw, turn turtle and\r\nwaltz off, to the tune of blood-curdling sounds: screams for help here,\r\nthere, everywhere, always with the background of that menacing hiss of\r\nsteam in the great engine\'s boilers--that low, sneezing uz-z-z! as if it\r\nwere taking cold from its bath--the engine that, at any moment, might\r\nexplode.\r\n\r\nFrantically she would have struck out, the little girl-mechanic, and\r\nfought the whole ice-pack to get away from that threat, to reach a solid\r\ncrust, but she knew that she could not "swim" two, herself and Una.\r\n\r\nYet would they go under--one or both--perish in water not deep because\r\nof the starving cold, even if--if the engine...?\r\n\r\nHer teeth snapped together upon the thought, its diddering horror.\r\nSurely, it was as bad a predicament as could be for a girl!\r\n\r\nBut, suddenly, through all the horripilation there seemed to shine a\r\nlight.\r\n\r\nSomehow, Pem was conscious of it in the poor numb sheath of her own\r\ngirlish being--and beyond.\r\n\r\nAnd she knew that her stark lips were praying: "Oh! Lord--oh!\r\nFather--help me-e to hold on. Don\'t let us--go--under! I want--I want\r\nso-o to live to see Daddy\'s rocket go off!... He ..."\r\n\r\nThe stiff sobs tumbled apart there, as it were.\r\n\r\nBut the Light remained, the Presence, so near as it seemed to Pem at the\r\nmoment--even as she had felt it before upon a mountain-top, or at some\r\nmatchless moment of beauty--that she almost lisped confusedly: "Daddy in\r\nHeaven!" as once, a two-year-old, she had prattled it at her father\'s\r\nknee.\r\n\r\nThen what--what? Another voice prattling near her--chattering icily! A\r\nbully human voice!\r\n\r\n"Gosh! Something r-rotten in the State of Denmark," it gasped. "Jove! I\r\nlike excitement, but I\'d rather be warm enough to enjoy it. Oh! Dad, if\r\nthere are any others left in that car, the one on end, you help \'em. I\r\nmust attend to these girls."\r\n\r\n"T-take her first--Una!" flickered Pem, a spicy flicker still, as she\r\nfelt a strong grasp on her shoulder and looked up into the face of a\r\nbroad-shouldered youth in a gray sweater; the engine might explode, but,\r\nto the last, they should not say of Toandoah\'s daughter that her courage\r\nwas a Quaker gun.\r\n\r\n"Jove! but you\'re game," flashed the youth. "Well, keep up--hang\r\non--I\'ll be back in a minute!"\r\n\r\nThe minute was three.\r\n\r\nHe had to lift the second girlish victim almost bodily out of the water\r\nand drag her with him as he wriggled and crawled over the broken\r\nice-pack, to reach a firm spot, where he picked her up and--with all the\r\nvigor of an athletic eighteen-year-old--carried her to the shore, now\r\nnot more than twenty yards off.\r\n\r\n"Humph! I was just in time, wasn\'t I?" he ejaculated on the transit. "By\r\nGeorge! You\'ve got pep, if ever a girl had--I\'ll wager you pulled your\r\nfriend out of the parlor-car and held her up! Some horripilation, eh?"\r\nbreezily. "Now--now what have you and I ever done that the Fates should\r\nwish this on to us--that\'s what I\'d like to know?"\r\n\r\nIt was what the daring little ski-runner, Pem, herself, had been vaguely\r\nwondering; she liked this jolly wit-snapper who preferred his excitement\r\nwarm.\r\n\r\n"Ha! there goes the engine exploding," he gasped a moment later, as he\r\nset her down. "Bursting inward! Now, if it had done the mean thing,\r\nburst outward, piling up the agony, doing a whole lot of damage, \'twould\r\nhave been quicker about it.... Oh--you! Dad," to a gray-bearded man,\r\nwith a gray traveling cap pulled down almost to his eyes. "Here, I\'ll\r\nhand over these girls to you now! Will you look after them? I\'d better\r\ngo back."\r\n\r\nSimultaneously there was a low, sullen roaring, the crack of doom, as\r\ncondensed steam sucked in the heavy steel casing of the locomotive\'s\r\nboilers and shattered it like an eggshell.\r\n\r\nIn Pemrose it shattered something too.\r\n\r\nWildly she looked into the eyes of the man in the tourist\'s cap and was\r\nconscious that in one of them horror was frozen into a fixed stand, as\r\nit was in one of Una\'s, as he helped her up a snowy bank.\r\n\r\nAnd, with that, her brain laid its last egg for the present, as the\r\nThunder Bird would drop its expiring one upon the dead surface of the\r\nmoon, in the knowledge that, the Fates notwithstanding, she was still\r\nalive--still alive, to see the great rocket go!\r\n\r\nAnd as for its completion--as to the little gold mine necessary to gorge\r\nit for its record flight--why! the third rich nut of which she had\r\nspoken a little while ago in her father\'s laboratory, had not yet been\r\ncracked: the third mysterious drawer containing the third and last\r\ninstallment of a dead man\'s very strange will had not yet been opened.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IV\r\n\r\nTHE SECOND WRECK\r\n\r\n\r\nThat third nut was cracked just five weeks later in the firelit library\r\nof what had been Mr. Hartley Graham\'s home--the home of a man who during\r\nhis lifetime, so it was occasionally said, had been, in some ways,\r\nalmost as eccentric as his madcap brother--and concerning the latter his\r\ncollege chums, those who knew him long ago, were of the opinion that he\r\nwas a freak whose "head grew beneath his shoulder."\r\n\r\nThe house, a white marble mansion on Opal Avenue, finest of the old\r\nresidential streets in the University city of Clevedon, was now occupied\r\nby the sister of the two, the mother of Una, who had snapped her fingers\r\nat the Thunder Bird, calling it a joke, a dummy, a Quaker gun.\r\n\r\nThat jeering nickname still rankled in the breast of Pemrose, who looked\r\nmore like a colorless March Primrose, owing to the lingering shock of\r\nthat train wreck, upon the spring morning in early April when the family\r\nlawyer whose duty it was to settle the affairs of the man who had left\r\nthree separate portions of his will in as many drawers, to be opened on\r\nthree successive anniversaries of his death, drew forth the last.\r\n\r\nShe was not the only pale girl present.\r\n\r\nBy her side was Una, neighbor again in heart as in body, who laid one\r\nlittle agitated fist on Pem\'s knee while preparations for reading the\r\nwill were being made, the two girls nestling together, as in chummy\r\ndays, three years before, when in the peacock pride of thirteen they had\r\nconceitedly measured eyelashes.\r\n\r\nAnd the remorseful affection mirrored in that little near-sighted stand\r\nin one of Una\'s pretty dark eyes was only typical of an entirely similar\r\nstate of feeling in the once scornful breasts of her father and mother.\r\n\r\nMrs. Grosvenor was no longer "on her high ropes," as Pem had said in her\r\nfather\'s laboratory; to-day she seemed to be, rather, on a snubbing-line\r\nwhich brought her up short now and again, even in the middle of a\r\nspeech, when she looked at the inventor\'s blue-eyed daughter, his trusty\r\nlittle pal--and that, sometimes, with spray in her eyes, too.\r\n\r\nAlso, her glances in the direction of the inventor himself, Professor\r\nLorry, with whose name the world was already beginning to ring, were\r\nappealing--not to say apologetic.\r\n\r\nShe was quite sure now that any man who could turn out a daughter, not\r\nyet sixteen, to behave in a fearful emergency as Pem had done--without\r\nwhom her own daughter would not be here to-day, as Una constantly kept\r\nrepeating--could never forge a gun, be it rocket or rifle, that would\r\nhit no mark!\r\n\r\nShe even expressed some agitated interest in the great invention,\r\ninquiring when the first experiments with the little model Thunder Bird,\r\nupon a mountain-top, were to take place.\r\n\r\nAnd as for her husband, he boldly declared himself deeply interested in\r\nthe conquest of the upper air and space--so far beyond the goal which\r\nany aviator had dreamed of reaching yet.\r\n\r\nHe even went so far as to say that he would be glad to see the remainder\r\nof a fortune, represented by that third section of a will, go for the\r\nfurtherance of the professor\'s wonderful moon-reaching, planet-reaching\r\nscheme, instead of being "hung up" awaiting the return of the dead man\'s\r\nyounger brother who had been such a queer flimflam fellow in\r\nyouth,--whose family did not even know whether he was dead or alive.\r\n\r\nAnd, at first, while the shell of that third nut was being solemnly\r\ncracked by the reading of opening sentences of the will--oh! how the\r\nheart of Pemrose jumped, like a nut on a hot shovel--it did seem as if\r\nthe kernel were going to be a rich one for the Thunder Bird.\r\n\r\nFor now, according to the testator\'s wish, if his brother, Treffrey\r\nGraham, had not yet returned to claim his portion of his elder brother\'s\r\nwealth, then the money--a little bonanza, indeed, a solid fortune--was\r\nto be turned over, forthwith, to the University of his native city, to\r\nbe used for developments in the science of the air--the upper air and\r\nwhat lay beyond it--chiefly for the furtherance of any inventions that\r\nmight be put forward by the dead man\'s trusted friend, Professor Lorry.\r\n\r\nIt was here that two pale girls, abruptly transformed from April\r\nprimroses to June roses--oh! such pinkly blooming tea-roses--gave\r\nsimultaneously a wild little shriek.\r\n\r\nIt was here that Pem, dazzled, saw the Thunder Bird, with a clear sky,\r\ntear--tear away moonward--and noticed at the same time, through some\r\nlittle loophole in the watch-tower of her excitement, the figure of a\r\nman with a gray tourist\'s cap pulled down to his eyes, rather waveringly\r\ncrossing the street without.\r\n\r\nHe circled to avoid an April puddle,--she saw him clearly through the\r\nbroad library window, at a distance of some fifty yards, beyond a flight\r\nof marble steps and a graveled entrance.\r\n\r\nA queer little shiver, a horrid little shiver--a snowflake in\r\nsummer--drifted down her spine!\r\n\r\nThe figure had an icy background. She had seen it before amid the\r\nterrors of that February train-wreck. The boy who saved her, the boy\r\nwith the jolly tongue in his head, humorous amid the "horripilation,"\r\nhad addressed it as Dad.\r\n\r\nAnd then--then, she caught her breath sharply, as something blew upon\r\nher, hot and cold together--and came back to the library, to the present\r\nmoment.\r\n\r\nFor the gray-haired lawyer, with his mouth opening gravely, wide as a\r\nchurch door, with a little forward pounce of his body upon the\r\ntypewritten sheets, the sheets that meant life or death--flight or\r\nstagnation--for the Thunder Bird, was beginning to read again.\r\n\r\n"Ah, but that\'s not all, even yet!" he said. "This curious will has\r\ndragged its slow length over three years--and now we haven\'t finished\r\nwith it, quite. Here\'s a codicil still to be read--its last word,\r\nwritten later, just two days before Mr. Graham\'s death, so it seems."\r\n\r\nAlack and alas! that was the moment of the second wreck; the moment for\r\none jubilant girl of the dire breakdown, when the Victory Express to\r\nClover Land, goal of blossoming success, crashed through into zero\r\nwaters of blankest disappointment,--almost as bitter as those in which\r\nshe had held up her friend.\r\n\r\nFor the last word of the strung-out will set forth that, whereas it\r\nseemed borne in upon Mr. Hartley Graham, with life drawing to a close,\r\nthat he had not been quite fair to his madcap brother in youth, and that\r\nthe latter would some day return, the disposal of his wealth in the\r\nother direction named--to the University and for invention--should not\r\ncome into effect for at least twelve years after the opening of that\r\nthird drawer.\r\n\r\n"And so--and so, it\'s all hung up for another dozen years--unless\r\nTreffrey Graham comes back to claim the money! Well! I\'m sorry,\r\nProfessor Lorry; there\'s many a slip \'twixt cup and lip," said the\r\nlawyer, laying down the codicil with a blue look; he was interested in\r\ninvention, progressive invention--he had never thought that the Thunder\r\nBird was a Quaker gun.\r\n\r\n"And so it\'s all hung up for the next twelve years," was the baffled cry\r\nwhich went around the circle, with no single note of longing for the\r\nwanderer\'s return.\r\n\r\nIt would not have been very flattering to the terrible Treff, if he was\r\nalive and present to hear, thought a gnashing Pemrose: to the exile who\r\nhad been such a hazing firebrand at college, burning out the fine flame\r\nof youth in the straw blaze of senseless pranks,--a griffin and\r\nshatterpated jester.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER V\r\n\r\nSHE SAVED A CITY\r\n\r\n\r\n"And so--and so it\'s all hung up for another twelve years--the Thunder\r\nBird\'s flight! For I don\'t suppose there\'s much chance of the money\r\ncoming from another direction."\r\n\r\nPemrose Lorry echoed the cry, repeated it desolately, hours later,\r\nstanding in her own room--a room that was a sort of sequel to herself,\r\nas every Camp Fire Girl\'s nest should be.\r\n\r\nHer father had echoed it, as she sat very close to him, driving home in\r\nthe Grosvenor\'s limousine.\r\n\r\n"Well! so far this strung-out will has been for us much cry and little\r\nwool, eh, girlie," he muttered; and for the first time she heard\r\ndiscouragement in his voice; perhaps he had "banked" upon that third nut\r\nmore than he admitted.\r\n\r\n"So the money is hung up for the next dozen years, as far\'s any benefit\r\nto the invention is concerned," he went on presently, just before his\r\nown home was reached. "I\'d better be putting my time into something\r\nelse, I guess," with a raw scrape in the tones. "How--how about a\r\nmachine for the manufacture of paper clothing, eh, or airdrawn rugs--"\r\nsarcastically--"prosperity, _riches_, in that! Ha! Get thee behind\r\nme, Satan--but don\'t push!" added the inventor whimsically, thrusting\r\nhis head out of the auto window,--with a sound that was neither laugh\r\nnor groan.\r\n\r\n"Get thee behind me, Satan--and don\'t push!"\r\n\r\nTears sprang to those blue eyes of Pemrose now, as she recalled the\r\nhalf-piteous tone in the voice.\r\n\r\nToandoah was discouraged. Toandoah was tempted--tempted to sacrifice the\r\nhighest claim of his intellect, his original dream, or the dream whose\r\noriginality he had made practical, of reaching the heavenly bodies; of\r\nbeing a pioneer in exploring the Universe outside his own earth and its\r\nenveloping atmosphere; of finding out the secrets of that mysterious\r\nupper air, and where it ended, of getting back a record of it--the\r\nThunder Bird\'s golden egg, the first record from space.\r\n\r\nAnd the girl in her buoyant young heart of hearts felt that hope--nay,\r\ncertainty--were still there, green, springing, as the first signs of\r\nhappy springtime in the world outside.\r\n\r\nHow--how was she to make him feel it; she his little Wise Woman, his\r\nlaboratory pal?\r\n\r\nHer eye went to the emblems upon her wall: a pine tree on a poster,\r\ntypical of strength, a banner with a sunburst, the sun shedding warmth\r\nupon the earth.\r\n\r\nAnd then--then! To the little squat figure of a woman, as the Indians\r\ndepicted her, with a torch in her hand, Wisdom\'s torch--her own emblem\r\nas Wantaam of the Council Fire.\r\n\r\nBut there was another representation of that Wantaam--that Wise Woman.\r\nPem had designed it herself, painted it herself upon a two-foot poster,\r\ngaining thereby a green honor-bead for handicraft.\r\n\r\nAnd before that the girl, wrestling with the heavy disappointment of\r\nthat tantalizing will, brought up--her hands clasped.\r\n\r\nIt was a curious scene: a lot of little tents with a wall around them,\r\nthe same symbolic figure of the woman with the torch stood upon the\r\nwall, pointing a stiff arm at a man outside, a warrior, who had a knife\r\nin hand.\r\n\r\nUnderneath were printed in flaming characters two Indian words: "Notick!\r\nNotick!" signifying: "Hear! Hear!"\r\n\r\n"I always did feel fascinated by that Wise Woman who saved--a--city."\r\nPem looked adoringly at her handiwork. "A besieged Jewish city, away\r\nback in King David\'s time! To be sure, one reads of it in--in what\'s a\r\nbloodthirsty chapter of the Old Testament! And she saved the town by\r\nordering the death of a rebel, a traitor, proclaiming that she, herself,\r\nwas loyal and faithful to the king--so were her people--making Joab,\r\nDavid\'s captain, that man with the knife, outside the wall, listen when\r\nshe cried to him: \'Hear! Hear!\' She had more sense than the men about\r\nher--and one isn\'t told the least thing further about her, not even her\r\nname. That\'s what makes her mysterious--and fascinating.... Yet she\r\nsaved a city!"\r\n\r\nThe girl drew a long breath--a suddenly fired breath.\r\n\r\nWas it up to her now to save a city: the citadel of her father\'s\r\ncourage--of that rose-colored conviction which is half the battle on\r\nearth or in the air? How was she to do it?\r\n\r\nHer eye went wandering around the room. Trained to the eloquence of\r\nsymbols, it lit on something. Just a sheen of pearls and a little loom\r\nupon a table--myriads of pearly beads, woven and unwoven, with here and\r\nthere a ray of New Jerusalem colors, ruby, emerald, blazing through\r\nthem--the New Jerusalem of hope.\r\n\r\n"Ah-h!"\r\n\r\nBreathlessly she caught it up, that something, four feet and a half of\r\nthe beaded history of a girl,--pearl-woven prophecy, too!\r\n\r\nHugging it to her breast, that long leather strip, an inch and a half in\r\nwidth, on which her glowing young life-story was woven in pearls, with\r\nthose rainbow flashes of color--the loom with it--she hurried out of the\r\nroom.\r\n\r\nNever, perhaps, did a professor\'s laboratory, the stern, hardware "lab."\r\nof a mechanical engineer, react to anything so fairy-like as when Pem,\r\nscurrying down a flight of stairs to the workshop which her father had\r\nfitted up in his own house--not his University laboratory with the tall\r\nspectroscope--sat down to a table and began industriously to weave.\r\n\r\nTurning from a bench where he sat fiddling with a steel chamber, part of\r\nthe anatomy of a fledgling Thunder Bird, of one of those small model\r\nrockets which he was fitting up for experiments on a mountain-top, the\r\ninventor watched her listlessly.\r\n\r\n"Hullo! What\'s the charm now, the thing of beauty? That--that looks such\r\nstuff as dreams are made of." Toandoah drew a long breath.\r\n\r\n"No, it isn\'t dream-stuff, father; it\'s history, the history of your\r\nlife and mine, all told in symbols, woven into a chain, a stole--see--to\r\nwear with my ceremonial dress. It--it\'s my masterpiece." Pem looked up,\r\nall girl, all Rose, now. "I didn\'t want to show it to you until it was\r\nfinished. But now--now--don\'t you want to see it?"\r\n\r\nListlessly, still, her father drew near, his tall figure in its long,\r\ndrab laboratory coat looming like a shadow behind her shoulder.\r\n\r\n"See there--there\'s where it begins with the Flag I was born under, the\r\nStars and Stripes," excitedly. "And look," softly, "that gold star\r\nstands for Mother who died when I was two. And there you are, Toandoah,\r\nwith that queer Indian triangle having the teeth of a saw, the emblem of\r\ninvention."\r\n\r\n"What! That funny, squat figure, with something like a three-cornered\r\nfool\'s-cap on my head and the moon above it, looking through a tube!"\r\nThere was a laugh in the inventor\'s throat now; the grim "Get thee\r\nbehind me, Satan!" look, with the cloud of that codicil to a will, were\r\nmelting away from him. "Well, go on!" he encouraged smilingly.\r\n"Artistic, anyhow! I believe you Camp Fire Girls would weave magic\r\naround a clock pendulum."\r\n\r\n"And here--here am I--Wantaam, a Wise Woman. There\'s the Thunder Bird,\r\nsee, the symbol of the great rocket. Here are you and I, Dad, upon a\r\nmountaintop, watching it tear--oh! tear away."\r\n\r\nHe laughed again at the two stiff, woodeny figures, the comet-like\r\nstreak of fire above them.\r\n\r\n"And this--the quill fluttering down attached to a kite! Humph! That\r\nstands for the Thunder Bird\'s diary, I suppose, otherwise the golden\r\negg--the little recording apparatus coming down on the wing of its black\r\nparachute."\r\n\r\nThe inventor laughed amusedly again, glancing sidelong at _his_\r\nmasterpiece, the little five-inch openwork steel box, having in it two\r\ntiny wheels with paper wound, tapelike, on one and a pencil between\r\nthem. This carried in the head of the Thunder Bird, big or little, would\r\nkeep a record of as high as it went by the pencil automatically making\r\nmarks so long as there was any air-pressure, like a guiding hand, to\r\nmove it.\r\n\r\n"Yes." The weaver nodded. "And here--here is the Will being read!"\r\n\r\nThe girlish voice was lower now, the girlish feet treading doubtful\r\nground, as she pointed again to those two quaint, stubby figures, with a\r\nthird one reading from a parchment.\r\n\r\nBut there was no doubt at all in the young voice which presently\r\ngathered itself for a climax.\r\n\r\n"And see--see there--those little yellow dots I\'m weaving in now; those\r\nare gold pieces, father, the money that _is_ coming to us from\r\nsomewhere for you to finish your invention. Yes! and I\'m going on to\r\nweave in the moon, too, and the little blue powder-flash before her\r\nface, to show the Thunder Bird has got there. For it is going to get\r\nthere, you know!" Pem\'s blue-star eyes were dim now, but in them was the\r\nwisdom of babes--the wisdom oft hid from the wise and prudent.\r\n\r\n"Daddy-man!" She bowed her head over the pearl-woven prophecy, speaking\r\nvery low. "I could always tell you my thoughts. Somehow, at that awful\r\ntime of the train-wreck, when we were in the icy water, Una and I,\r\nbefore the boy came, the big boy who saved us, through--through all the\r\n\'horripilation\', as he called it, I seemed to see a light; the--the\r\nLight of Light Eternal, as we sing--God--and I knew, oh-h! I knew-ew, at\r\nthe last, that we weren\'t going to dr-rown.... I know just as certainly\r\nnow that you\'re going to launch the Thunder Bird, to go-o where\r\nnothing--Earthly--has ever gone before.... Father-r!"\r\n\r\nSilence fell upon that passionate little cry in the dim workshop.\r\n\r\nOnly the beauty of the pearl-woven thing upon the table spoke--the\r\nrecord to go down to posterity.\r\n\r\nThen into the silence tiptoed the voice of a man, whimsical, slightly,\r\nyet with a touch of tender awe in it, too:\r\n\r\n"And none knew the Wise Woman who saved the city!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VI\r\n\r\nA HOTSPUR\r\n\r\n\r\n"Oh! I\'m so glad--just so glad I don\'t know what to do with myself--that\r\nthose experiments with the lesser Thunder Bird, the smaller sky-rocket,\r\nwhich won\'t make the four-day trip to Mammy Moon, but will only fly up a\r\ncouple of hundred miles, or so, and drop its golden egg, the diary, to\r\ntell you where that blank No Man\'s Land of space begins will still be\r\ncarried out this spring from the top of old Mount Greylock. If they had\r\nbeen given up, it would have broken my heart--so it would!"\r\n\r\nIt was evening now, late evening, in the dining room of the professor\'s\r\nhome, looking upon the green University campus.\r\n\r\nThe girl with the grafted Rose in her name, grafted on to a foreign\r\nstem, was pouring out her father\'s after dinner coffee--and her own full\r\nheart, at the same time. "Ouch!" She shivered a little. "I don\'t like to\r\nthink of that \'diddering\' cold of empty space; not--not since the\r\ntrain-wreck. I\'m like the big boy who saved us then, and was so jolly;\r\nI\'m out for excitement if I\'m warm enough to enjoy it, eh?"\r\n\r\n"Humph! Well, here\'s somebody who\'s willing to take a chance on carrying\r\nhis warmth, his fun too, with him into space."\r\n\r\nThe professor laughed as he drew a sheet of thick letter paper, broad\r\nand creamy, from his pocket.\r\n\r\n"Oh! is it somebody else ... you don\'t mean to say it\'s another hotspur\r\napplying for a passage in the real Thunder Bird when you start the big\r\nrocket off for the moon, eh?"\r\n\r\nThe girl glanced over her father\'s shoulder.\r\n\r\n"Yes, one more candidate for lunar honors! And this one is the limit for\r\na Quixote. Young, too, I should say!" Again Toandoah\'s deep chant of\r\nlaughter buoyed his daughter\'s treble note, as he began to read:\r\n\r\n "Professor G. Noel Lorry,\r\n Nevil University.\r\n My dear Sir,\r\n\r\n Having learned that you are perfecting an apparatus that will reach\r\n any height--even go as far as the moon--and that it will be capable of\r\n carrying a passenger, I should like to volunteer for the trip.\r\n\r\n I have always wanted to say \'Hullo!\' to the Man in the Moon, on whose\r\n face I have often looked from an a\xc3\xabroplane already; and I am ready to\r\n try anything once--even if it should be once for all!\r\n\r\n Yours for the big chance,\r\n T. S.\r\n\r\n P. S. I respectfully apologize for not being able just at present to\r\n give my full name, but will, with your permission, furnish it later."\r\n\r\n"Humph! Mr. T. S.! \'With your permission,\' where do you write from?"\r\nPemrose bent low over the primrose sheet. "Oh! from Lightwood. Now,--now\r\nwhere is that, Daddy?"\r\n\r\n"There\'s a little, one-horse village of the name among the Berkshire\r\nMountains, not far from fashionable Lenox." Her father smiled.\r\n\r\n"Lenox! How lovely! Why! that\'s where you and I are going to stay--stay\r\nfor a week or two--isn\'t it, father, _en route_ for Greylock and\r\nthe experiments. You know the Grosvenors have invited us--and they have\r\na wonderful old place up there. Una\'s mother is carrying coals these\r\ndays--" Pemrose winked--"coals of penitence in her heart for ever having\r\nsneered at your invention, Daddy."\r\n\r\n"Hot ones, are they? Well! I wish she\'d hasten and spill them out before\r\nshe reaches Lenox." The inventor chuckled. "Let me see, she was born\r\nthere, I believe, at their mountain home--yes, and one or other of her\r\nbrothers, too."\r\n\r\n"Ho! Was it--was it the unicorn; I--I mean the oddity; the Thunder\r\nBird\'s rival for all-l that money?" The girlish hand shook now as it\r\nwielded the coffee-pot. "Oh, dear! wouldn\'t his horn be exalted if he\r\nnever came back?" With a droll little catch of the breath. "Una and I\r\nare as friendly as ever now, Dad," ran on the girlish voice, hurriedly\r\nleading off from the neighborhood of the will. "And she\'s to be taken\r\nout of school early, when we go, because she has been so nervous since\r\nthe train-wreck. So chummy we are--oh, as chummy as in the old days when\r\nwe measured eyelashes and she laughed at my \'chowchow\' name!" The\r\nspeaker here shot the bluest of glances through those twinkling lashes\r\nat their reflection in a neighboring teapot, older than Columbia\r\nherself.\r\n\r\n"Chowchow, indeed! It just suits you, that compound. There\'s a vain elf\r\nin you somewhere, Pem, that sleeps in the shadow of the Wise Woman."\r\n\r\n"Maybe--maybe, there\'s a nickum! That\'s Andrew\'s word, Andrew\'s word for\r\nan imp, a tomboy. He\'s the Grosvenors\' Scotch chauffeur, you know, who\r\ntalks with a thistle under his tongue. Well! nickum, or not!" the girl\r\nwas a rosy weathercock again. "I--I\'m just dying to get up to the\r\nmountains, to climb the Pinnacle, the green Pinnacle, that rough,\r\npine-clad hill, with Una--and sit in the Devil\'s Chair!"\r\n\r\n"_What!_ My Wise Woman sitting in the Devil\'s Chair! Why! \'twould\r\ntake a daredevil nickum, indeed, to do that."\r\n\r\nThe inventor threw up his hands, laughing again, as he beat a retreat to\r\nhis hardware den, his laboratory, where there was ever a magnet, potent\r\nby night or day, to draw him back.\r\n\r\nYet when still another six weeks had passed and Pemrose, with all the\r\ngreen world of spring in her heart, stood, breathless, upon that Lenox\r\npinnacle--a pine-clad mountainette some thirteen hundred feet above\r\nsea-level--lo and behold! there was a nickum sitting coolly in the\r\nDevil\'s Chair.\r\n\r\nA brazen feat it was! For that Lucifer\'s throne was a curved stone seat,\r\na natural armchair, rudely carved out of the precipice rock, more than a\r\ndozen sheer feet beneath the crest where she stood with Una--Andrew of\r\nthe thistly tongue having driven the two girls up to the foot of the\r\npeak on this the third day after their arrival, with the May flies, amid\r\nthe mountains.\r\n\r\n"A nickum--oh! a nickum, indeed--a daredevil nickum--sitting in the\r\nDevil\'s Armchair, with his feet dangling down--down over the deep\r\nprecipice! Look!"\r\n\r\nPemrose pirouetted in excitement at the sight.\r\n\r\n"Yes, and, goodness! he seems to be enjoying it, too. Not turning a\r\nhair. Oh! if \'twere I--I should be so-o dizzy."\r\n\r\nWith the more timid cry in her pulsing throat, and that little appalled\r\nstand, a star of mingled consternation and admiration beaming,\r\nbewitched, in one dark eye, Una turned from the spectacle--turned,\r\nshuddering, from the hundred-and-odd feet of unbroken abyss extending\r\nfrom the nickum\'s knickerbockered legs, nonchalantly swinging, to an\r\nawed grove of young pine trees, rock-ribbed and bowlder-strewn, far\r\nbelow.\r\n\r\n"Oh! I don\'t want to look at him," she cried cravenly. "How will\r\nhe--ever--climb back up here again?"\r\n\r\n"Tr-rust him--" began Toandoah\'s daughter, then suddenly clutched her\r\nthroat, her widening eyes as round, as bright, as staringly blue as the\r\nmountain lupine already opening upon the world\'s surprises, in sunny\r\nspots, among the hills.\r\n\r\nThose eyes were now fastened to the back of the nickum\'s close-cropped\r\nhead, to his broad shoulders in a rough, gray sweater, noting a certain\r\n"bully" shrug of those shoulders at the surrounding landscape, as if,\r\nmonarch of all he surveyed, he yet felt himself a usurper in his present\r\nseat.\r\n\r\n"Something rotten--something rotten in the State of Denmark!" crowed\r\nPemrose softly. "I wonder if he\'s getting that off now? Una! Una! It\'s\r\nHe ... He!"\r\n\r\n"Who? Who?"\r\n\r\n"The man--the boy--who saved us after the train-wreck ... without whom\r\nwe mightn\'t be here--now! Ah-h!" was the softly tremulous answer, as the\r\nblue eyes danced down the rock, with frankest recognition, friendliest\r\nexpectation, to that daring, nonchalant nickum figure, now coolly\r\ndrawing up its toes for a climb.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VII\r\n\r\nTHE PINNACLE\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was an exciting situation.\r\n\r\nPemrose, who like the enthroned daredevil liked excitement, if she was\r\nwarm enough to enjoy it, had not hoped for quite such a tidbit when she\r\ncame to the mountains,--at least, short of the little Thunder Bird\'s\r\nrecord-breaking flight.\r\n\r\n"Oh! I did so want to run across him again. I do so long to thank him!\r\nWhy--why! we might never have escaped from that awful wreck, got out of\r\nthe zero water, but for him, Una." The blue eyes were wet now, frankly\r\nwet, bluebells by a mountain brook--the little bursting brooklet of\r\nfeeling within.\r\n\r\n"I--I\'d like to thank him, too!" gushed Una, with that little fixed star\r\ntwinkling most radiantly in one dark eye, the slight stand which\r\ncharacterized it only at intense moments when feeling reached indefinite\r\naltitudes. "Oh! how glad I am now," she ran on breathlessly, "that we\r\nmade Andrew leave the car down in a garage at the Pinnacle\'s foot and\r\nbring us up here for a sort of picnic supper," sending a sidelong glance\r\nscouting round for the tall, capped figure of the grizzled chauffeur\r\nwho, a brief ten years before, had been driving his "laird\'s" car upon\r\nBen Muir, a heathery mountain of his native Highlands.\r\n\r\nTrustworthy as day, a capable driver and zealous Church Elder, he was\r\none to whose guardianship Una Grosvenor, the apple of her parents\' eye,\r\nmight safely be intrusted with her visiting friend while her father\r\ngolfed and her mother lunched and played bridge in complacent peace of\r\nmind.\r\n\r\n"Oh! she\'s all right with Andrew; he\'s such a true-penny!" was her\r\nfather\'s dictum. "Safer with him, up here, than she would be with maid\r\nor housekeeper! And, after that shock in the winter, the doctor wants\r\nher to be out of doors among the hills morning, noon and\r\nnight--practically all the time, if she can!"\r\n\r\nAh! so far, so good. But just at this unprecedented moment of excitement\r\nAndrew, the true-penny, had encountered another Scot, who emigrated\r\nbefore he did, and was breezily "clacking" with him at some distance\r\nfrom where two breathlessly expectant girls gazed down upon the black\r\ntop of the nickum\'s head--and at his wheeling shoulders in the great\r\narmchair.\r\n\r\n"Oh--oh! there he goes--see--curling up his legs, drawing up his feet\r\ncarefully, turning in the seat--standing up!" cried Pemrose, all Rose at\r\nthis crisis, prematurely blooming, as if it were June, not May, as she\r\nstood on tiptoe to meet a dramatic moment, reveling in the thought that\r\nthe daredevil did not know what a surprise awaited him on top here, what\r\na welcome--heart-eager gratitude.\r\n\r\nShe bit her lip, however, upon the impulsive cry, for she saw two girls,\r\nyounger than herself, with a ten-year-old boy, who had been watching the\r\nclimber\'s feat from a near-by mound, turn and look at her curiously.\r\n\r\nThey were evidently acquainted with the daring usurper of the Devil\'s\r\nChair.\r\n\r\nFor, having drawn up his legs until his knees touched his chin, then\r\nraised himself to a standing position on the grim stone seat, cautiously\r\nturning, his strong fingers gripping the granite chair-arms, when his\r\nback was to the precipice beneath and his face almost touching the\r\ntwelve-foot, well-nigh perpendicular rock which he had to climb, he\r\nactually had the hardihood to wave his hand to them.\r\n\r\n"Now--now comes the \'scratch\'!" he shouted laughingly. "I\'m going to\r\nhook on to that \'nick\' in the rock, there, just over my head, and draw\r\nmyself up. Had to \'shy\' it coming down--for fear it would catch in my\r\nclothing."\r\n\r\n"Didn\'t I--didn\'t I t-tell you it was him?" burst forth Pem, with all\r\nthe vehemence of a little spring torrent, in Una\'s ear as she caught the\r\nring of the chaffing voice which had railed at the Fates for "wishing a\r\nwreck on" to unoffending youth, and was so boldly challenging them now.\r\n\r\nAnd just as free and frank in her girlish gratitude as that torrent\r\nbubbling impulsively out of the earth, when the nickum reached the crest\r\nagain, she sprang forward, hand outstretched, to meet him. Her eyes,\r\nblue as the little fairy blossoms of the star-grass now, were breeze\r\nblown in the meadow of her gladness.\r\n\r\nIt was nothing--nothing not to know the name of one who had saved you\r\nfrom death, she thought.\r\n\r\nBy the rescue you knew him!\r\n\r\nAnd he knew her!\r\n\r\nThose eyes, those keen, girlish eyes which had looked through the\r\nspectroscope a hundred times, in her father\'s laboratory, into the\r\nremote mystery of that far-away upper air could not be deceived.\r\n\r\nBy the sudden, startled heave of his shoulders, whose defiant shrug she\r\nremembered so well, by the quick intake of breath, as its climbing hiss\r\nsharpened to a whistle--almost a rude whistle in the excitement of the\r\nfeat he had just performed--by the little stare of breathless surprise,\r\nof quandary, in his dark eyes, glowing like Una\'s, he recognized her ...\r\nand passed her by.\r\n\r\nRecognized her as the girl whose "pep" he had complimented for putting\r\nanother\'s life before her own--and didn\'t want to have anything more in\r\nlife to say to her!\r\n\r\nWell! the Heavens fell upon the Pinnacle as Pem drew back--annihilated.\r\n\r\nSnubbed for the first time in all her blue-sky life--and by a boy, too!\r\n\r\nTo be sure, indeed, the nickum, his glance darting past her to Una, had\r\ngone by with a slight inclination of his bare head that was a stony bow.\r\n\r\nTo be sure, when one of the girls of his acquaintance questioned him\r\nabout the view from the Devil\'s Seat, there was a sort of creak in his\r\nvoice as he answered:\r\n\r\n"It\'s--a--corker! You can see away off: far-rms, lakes, all the other\r\nmountains--Mount Greylock, too, in the distance! But--but it\'s a\r\ncat\'s-foot climb down--there!" breaking off breathlessly, as if feeling\r\nwere making a cat\'s-paw of him.\r\n\r\n"Oh! you can really see Mount Greylock! As far away as that! Well! I\'m\r\ngoing to try-y it, too," ventured one of his girlish companions whose\r\nage was fourteen. "Summer and winter, I\'ve done a lot of climbing, up\r\nhere!"\r\n\r\n"You try it! Any girl try sitting in the Devil\'s Chair! Why! there isn\'t\r\na girl living who could do it," crowed the gray-shouldered youth: and\r\nnow his tones were lordly, as if he were picking himself up after an\r\ninner tumble.\r\n\r\n"Hey! Is that so?" Pem--over-hearing--ground the words between her\r\nteeth.\r\n\r\n "Have you never heard of Camp Fire,\r\n What a shame! What a shame!\r\n _If_ you\'ve never heard of Camp Fire,\r\n You\'re to blame! You\'re to blame!\r\n Then don\'t take a nap,\r\n For we\'re on the map,\r\n Ready to prove it with s-snap!"\r\n\r\nShe hissed the last word at the nickum\'s back, as he halted at some\r\ndistance with his companions.\r\n\r\n"Una! I\'m going to do it," she panted. "I\'m going to slide down that\r\nrock there, turn round and sit in the Chair--then draw myself up again,\r\nas he did. I\'ve got on sneakers. I know I can! I\'ve done some breakneck\r\nclimbing with father--yes! and with my Camp Fire Group, too."\r\n\r\n"I--I\'ll give you all my marshmallows that we brought with us to toast\r\nat an open fire, if you do!... Yes! and one of my two little thistle\r\npins--pebble pins--that Andrew and his wife brought me from Scotland,\r\nwhen they went home last year, _if you do_.... Wasn\'t he just\r\nhor-rid? He didn\'t want to speak to us--to know us!"\r\n\r\nUna\'s face flamed upon the bribe, and was so pretty lit by that fixed\r\nstar in the eye, that it must have been a zero-hearted nickum who could\r\nturn his back upon it.\r\n\r\n"Hold my hat," said Pem: if she had been a boy, the tone would have\r\nmeant: "Hold my coat while I thrash him!"\r\n\r\nUnhesitatingly she stepped to the precipice-brink and measured the\r\ndistance to that Devil\'s Chair very coolly and critically with her eye.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER VIII\r\n\r\nA USURPER\r\n\r\n\r\nGathering her short, green skirt about her, for she wore, as on that\r\nFebruary day in her father\'s laboratory, what he called the "nixie\r\ngreen", the sylvan Camp Fire uniform, the inventor\'s daughter stretched\r\nherself breast downward, upon the flat ledge of the Pinnacle\'s crest.\r\n\r\nWorking her body carefully backward, without another glance at the\r\nprecipice beneath, she slid warily over the edge, her face to the rock,\r\nand down the dozen feet of almost smooth, nearly perpendicular slab,\r\nuntil her feet touched the stone seat of that curved armchair, a deep\r\nembrasure in the mountain granite.\r\n\r\nIt was not such a wildly difficult feat then for a girl on her mettle to\r\nturn cautiously until her tingling back was pressed hard against the\r\nslab, and thus to lower herself to a sitting position on the rocky\r\nthrone.\r\n\r\nFor that Devil\'s Chair was a spacious one--fairly so! The seat extended\r\noutward at least three feet and was roomy enough to allow of two people\r\nstanding upright on it at the same time.\r\n\r\nAnd what a view old Lucifer must have from it, was Pem\'s first\r\nthought--provided he didn\'t, as an Irishman would say, reside away from\r\nhome!\r\n\r\nOff to the right and left stretched the wonderful landscape of the\r\nBerkshire Hills, Massachusetts\' Highlands--the Berkshire mountains in\r\nMay where, afar, a summit snow-cap vied with the driven snows of\r\nblossoming fruit trees, lower down; where the pink-shot pearl of a lake\r\ngleamed, opal-like, from an emerald setting, and many a silver thread\r\nwinding, expanding, showed where some madcap river or brook had become\r\nwith spring a wild thing.\r\n\r\n"Oh, hurrah! I can really see off to Mount Greylock--old King\r\nGreylock--even the steel tower upon it--oh! so plainly," murmured the\r\nmadcap in the Chair, and nestled triumphantly against its rocky back.\r\n\r\n "Greylock, cloud-girdled, from his purple throne,\r\n A shout of gladness sends,\r\n And up soft meadow slopes, a warbling tone,\r\n Of Housatonic blends."\r\n\r\nYes! she felt as if they were two throned dignitaries, she and Greylock;\r\nfor she wore the crown of derring do, and King Greylock, still wearing a\r\nthin diadem of snow, was enthroned for ever in her imagination as the\r\nfavored peak from which the first experiments with her father\'s immortal\r\nrocket were to be made.\r\n\r\nUpon Greylock\'s crest within a week or two, maybe--at all events before\r\nsummer dog-day heat clogged and fogged the air--her transcendent\r\ndream--or the first part of it--would come to pass: her yearning thumb\r\nwould press the button and start the little Thunder Bird off, to fly up\r\na couple of hundred miles, or so, with its diary in its cone-shaped\r\nhead, and send back that novel explorer\'s log, the little recording\r\napparatus, attached to a black silk parachute--the first, the very first\r\nrecord from the outer realm of space.\r\n\r\nNo wonder that old Greylock sent her back a shout of gladness now, as,\r\nsquirming in the Chair, she turned her gaze away from the distant\r\nmountain to green meadow slopes, to the right, where the broadest silver\r\nribbon, intertwined with the matchless landscape, showed where the\r\nHousatonic River, the blue Housatonic, flowed and sang.\r\n\r\n"Oh, dear! I wouldn\'t have missed this for anything," she exulted\r\nsilently. "But the idea of that perfectly horrid boy actually daring me\r\nto do it! He didn\'t mean to, but he did--strutting off, like that,\r\ncrowing about his climbing! As if a girl were--gingerbread! Well--"\r\nindignantly--"that was just one with his passing Una and me when we only\r\nwanted to thank him, felt as if we naturally must thank him,\r\nfor--for.... Bah! I won\'t think of the horrid wreck now! Or of him,\r\neither! I\'ll be taken up with the view! Isn\'t it exquisite--sublime? Not\r\ninterrupted as it is up there on the--Pinnacle\'s--crest!...--Ah-h!"\r\n\r\nThe little pinched exclamation came when--all too suddenly--she changed\r\nthe point of view, and looked down.\r\n\r\nBeneath her yawned the precipice over which her feet dangled--treading\r\nair, with never a break between them and that grove of dwarf pine trees\r\nmore than a hundred feet below, pointed by their glinting rocks.\r\n\r\nThe little trees bowed to her, now, like servants--green pages.\r\n\r\nBut, somehow, their homage made her feel uneasy; it put too great a\r\ndistance beneath her and them.\r\n\r\nThe crown of daring which she wore did not fit quite so easily.\r\n\r\nShe began to feel like a usurper whose head might at any moment be taken\r\noff.\r\n\r\nAnd, with that, she decided to vacate!\r\n\r\nDrawing up her feet much more gracefully than her predecessor had done,\r\nshe curled her body in the seat and raised it slowly until she was in a\r\nstanding position, grasping the stone arms of the chair, turned--turned\r\nrather sickeningly, to be sure, until her breast was against the broad\r\nrock down which she had slid, then reached upward for a handhold by\r\nwhich to climb--to draw herself up.\r\n\r\nThere was one. The nickum--churlish climber--had pulled himself up by\r\nit. Like him, she had fought shy of it, sliding down, for fear it should\r\ncatch in her clothing.\r\n\r\nA little spur it was, projecting from a slight fissure, what he called a\r\n"nick," in the rock, rather more than half-way up,--a good seven feet\r\nfrom the rocky armchair.\r\n\r\nBreathlessly she reached upward, to grasp it.\r\n\r\nAnd, lo! her lips fell apart--like a cleft stone.\r\n\r\nAt the same time her heart slunk out of her body and dropped into the\r\nprecipice behind her.\r\n\r\nHer fingers just missed that spur--fell short!\r\n\r\nThey touched it; they could not curl over it--and grip.\r\n\r\nFlattening herself to a green creeper against the rock which seemed\r\nspurning her, wildly she stretched every tendril--every sinew.\r\n\r\nIn vain! Make as long an arm as she could, this daring Pem, her five\r\nfeet three of slim girlish stature would not become the five feet nine\r\nof the daredevil who preceded her!\r\n\r\nEmergency balks at extension.\r\n\r\nThat right arm, racked, fell limply back.\r\n\r\nThe blue of her eyes, hooking to the spur, if her fingers couldn\'t, grew\r\nglazed like enamel.\r\n\r\nShe felt as if she were tumbling backward already, the daring essence of\r\nher, to break her too spunky backbone among those glowing pine-dwarfs\r\nfar beneath.\r\n\r\nSpread-eagled against the rock\'s cruel breast, she turned a blanched\r\nface, a convulsed face, upward!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER IX\r\n\r\nJACK AT A PINCH\r\n\r\n\r\n"Keep cool! Don\'t stir! I\'ll reach you in a moment!"\r\n\r\nAs the cry, the reassuring cry, came ringing down to her, Pemrose felt\r\nthe blood start again from where it was frozen at the back of her neck\r\nand surge through her flattened body, which, greenly spread-eagled\r\nagainst that gray rock, the head turned slightly aside, was not unlike\r\nthe quaint Indian figure of the Thunder Bird upon a pedestal,--the\r\nemblem of her father\'s invention.\r\n\r\nAs the first blind moment of terror passed--the blankness of the\r\ndiscovery that, strain as she might, she could not reach that spur of\r\nthe rock, the nearest hand-hold, and draw herself up to safety--she saw\r\ntwo rescuing figures loom out on high.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: "Keep cool! Don\'t stir! I\'ll reach you in a moment!" Page\r\n86.]\r\n\r\nThe first was that of the chauffeur, Andrew, summoned by a piercing cry\r\nfrom Una--Una whose delicate face was white and square now as the\r\nmarshmallows in the box under her arm, with which she had bribed her\r\nfriend to the madcap feat of sliding backward down a twelve-foot rock\r\nand sitting in the Devil\'s Chair.\r\n\r\nAnd Andrew the Scot saw the danger, heard it skirling in his ears, for\r\nhe had been brought up among mountains.\r\n\r\nHe did not quite see what good he could do, that staid Church Elder, by\r\njoining the girl in the Devil\'s Seat.\r\n\r\nBut he came of a Campbell clan which never flinched.\r\n\r\nHe was preparing to slide down, himself, when an arm--a left elbow\r\nrather--thrust him rudely back.\r\n\r\n"T-take hold of this rope-end. Throw yourself flat on the ground there.\r\nSit on him, you girls, so that he may not be drawn over!" cried a voice,\r\npointed, vigorous.\r\n\r\nPem knew that it was the fiery voice of the nickum, the broad-shouldered\r\nyouth, who had sat in the chair before her, whose crowing had been\r\nresponsible for her feat.\r\n\r\nHer colorless face was turned upward then and she had seen him push up\r\nthe lower folds of his sweater with his left hand--even while its elbow\r\nsent the chauffeur back--and while his right, lightning-like, uncoiled a\r\nrope, a lariat, worn under it around his waist.\r\n\r\nIt was then that he shouted to her to "keep cool"; and that she, turning\r\nher head aside against the rock, became a living effigy of the Thunder\r\nBird.\r\n\r\nNot waiting to make the rope fast around his own body--or his body fast\r\nto it--he slid down.\r\n\r\nThe next moment he was standing beside her in the chair.\r\n\r\n"Ha! So the \'pep\' was in the wrong box that time," he said coolly.\r\n\r\n"Yes. Last time it was in the ice-box," snapped she, as coolly, not to\r\nbe outdone. "So you _did_ remember--know me--us!"\r\n\r\n"How could I help--remembering--that icy train-wreck?" He was slipping\r\nthe rope in a noose under her arms. "Perhaps, some day.... Well! I\'m\r\nglad to be \'Jack at a Pinch\' again, anyway."\r\n\r\n"R-ready!" he shouted then.\r\n\r\nAnd Pem was drawn up, to face a Highland squall from Andrew.\r\n\r\n"Hoot! lassie, an\' air ye sech a fechless tomboy that a mon mun keep his\r\neen sticket on ye a\' the time?" the Scot angrily demanded. "How cud ye\r\nbe sech a nickum as to try sitting in yon--Deev\'s Chair?"\r\n\r\n"Ask--ask the other nickum; he did it first," flung back the rescued\r\none.\r\n\r\nBut under cover of the broad scolding, the other, the Jack at a\r\nPinch--friend in need for the second time--had again slipped off,\r\nwithout a word from either of the girls.\r\n\r\n"Bah! he is a nickum--a mysterious imp," snapped Pemrose, the fire that\r\nsmoldered behind her white face leaping up. "Can\'t be shyness with him;\r\nhe doesn\'t look the least bit shy! Oh-h! what a fool I was to give him a\r\nchance to help me--save me--in a \'pinch\', again."\r\n\r\nTears were springing to her eyes now,--tears of reaction.\r\n\r\nShe felt that an eighteen-year-old youth, privileged to save her life\r\ntwice--it seemed a privilege at the moment--might, at least, have had\r\nthe manners to let her thank him for it.\r\n\r\n"Oh! he\'s the nicest and the--hor-rid-est--boy I ever saw," wailed Una,\r\nin tribute to the train-wreck, still a nightmare on her mind.\r\n\r\nBoth girls were dumfounded, as well they might be.\r\n\r\nPemrose, with her blue eyes under jet-black lashes--girdled, moreover,\r\nwith her father\'s growing fame--Una, with lighter eyelashes and hair,\r\nand that little fixed star of angry excitement blazing in one sweet dark\r\neye, they were the kind of girls whose good graces a boy would be the\r\nlast to spurn, fair even for daughters of Columbia who, democratic in\r\nbeauty, as in all else, never hatches out an ugly duckling.\r\n\r\nThey gazed in stormy bewilderment now after Jack at a Pinch walking off\r\nwith his party whom, indeed, he had herded away.\r\n\r\nAndrew was looking gloweringly after him, too.\r\n\r\n"An\' so he\'s the loon that sat in the Chair first!" grumbled the still\r\nangry chauffeur. "Aw weel--" the "dour" expression upon the speaker\'s\r\nlong upper lip softening a little--"weel! he may be ill-trickit, but\r\nhe\'s a swanky lad, for a\' that. Aye, fegs! an\' braw, too."\r\n\r\n"Oh! he\'s \'swanky\' enough--swaggering--but I don\'t think he\'s \'braw\',\r\nhandsome--not with that little stand in his eye--just like Una\'s, only\r\nmore so." Pem added the last words under her breath. "But, oh! for\r\ngoodness sake! let\'s get away from here," she cried wildly; "over to the\r\nother side of the Pinnacle, anywhere--anywhere--so that we won\'t see him\r\nagain, before his strutting over what he\'s done, makes me--makes me--"\r\n\r\n"Yes--it\'s pretty on the other side of the hill, easy climbing, much\r\nsmoother--green and spring-like," assented Una soothingly, pouring balm.\r\n"It\'s all covered with young pine trees and just a few, very few, tall\r\nsilvery birches. Not rough and rocky as it is this side!" glancing\r\nshiveringly down the precipice.\r\n\r\n"Not another Deev\'s Chair in sight, I\'ll be hoping--fegs!" muttered\r\nAndrew, picking up a basket which he had carried from the automobile up\r\nthe low mountainside, and in the late emergency had set down.\r\n\r\nIt contained cocoa, sandwiches, fruit and other toothsome dainties for a\r\npicnic supper.\r\n\r\n"We have permission to make a fire, a Pin-na-cle blaze, to--to boil\r\nwater and toast our marshmallows. Oh! of all things, all-ll things on\r\nthis planet--I don\'t know what we may find on any other--that\'s\r\n\'banner\', it\'s a marshmallows toast out-of-doors--isn\'t it?" chanted\r\nUna, intoning her delight to the trees, the low spruce and pine scrub,\r\nas she skipped among them, an evergreen sprite, herself, for she, too,\r\nnow wore the "bonnie green", the Camp Fire short skirt, middy blouse and\r\ncaptivating Tam-o\'-shanter--most nymph-like note in dress for daughters\r\nof the woodland.\r\n\r\n"And--and I just know the dear-est, loveliest pin-ey nook," she went on\r\nin a choir-boy sing-song; "half-way down the Pinnacle\'s softer side it\r\nis, where we may build our fire. Halleluiah! I suppose I\'ll have to get\r\nbusy and gather fagots, as in Camp Fire rank I\'m a Wood Gatherer. Oh,\r\ndear! Will you listen to old Andrew. Now what is _he_ singing?"\r\n\r\nThe Scot, indeed, relaxing from prim silence and chauffeur ceremony here\r\nupon the Pinnacle\'s height, with only two young girls to marshal instead\r\nof the mechanism of lever and brake--although the former, as he had\r\nfound to his cost might prove the worse handful of the two--was\r\nalternately whistling, with lips drily pursed, and crooning in the\r\nburr-like accents which adhered like a thistle to his tongue, his\r\nversion of a very old song:\r\n\r\n "Young lassie! Daft lassie,\r\n I tell ye the noo,\r\n I\'m keepin\' some fagots,\r\n An\' a stick, too, for you!\r\n\r\n "Singing whack fol de ri do!\r\n De ri do!\r\n\r\n "A lassie, a dog,\r\n And an auld rowan tree,\r\n The mair that you thwacks \'em,\r\n The better they be!"\r\n\r\n"\'Thwacks \'em!\' Pshaw! he\'s flinging that in my direction--having a\r\nfling at me--for sitting in the Devil\'s Chair," laughed Pem, but the\r\nlaughter was bitter, two-edged. "Oh! Una," she burst forth shakily, "as\r\nlong--as long\'s ever I live, I\'ll wish I hadn\'t done it,\r\nletting--letting that Jack at a Pinch, as he called himself, that big,\r\nboorish boy, play friend in need to me-e again. Ugh-h!"\r\n\r\nHer stung lips quivered and were twisted, partly upon the after-taste of\r\nterror.\r\n\r\n"Humph! forget it--oh-h! forget it," caroled the younger girl. "See that\r\nyou don\'t make a trouble out of it, for trouble is a hor-rid\r\nkettle-o\'-fish for the troublers--see!... But--listen! Listen! Surely\r\nthat\'s singing--singing from somewhere--_other_ singing!"\r\n\r\nShe paused on tiptoe, a green dryad, one little hand, fair as a\r\nflower-petal, curled about her startled ear.\r\n\r\nBut Pem was for the moment comfort-proof.\r\n\r\n"Bah! \'Tisn\'t quite so easy to forget," she murmured, bitterly.\r\n\r\nHer less fragile fists were mounted one upon another under her chin as\r\nif to hold her head up. For the first time in her life she felt as if\r\nshe were being asked to drink a cup of humiliation--she, Toandoah\'s\r\nlittle pal--and she made wry faces over even a sip.\r\n\r\n"Humph! Doesn\'t it seem queer--queer--outlandish?" she snapped,\r\nbolstering the piqued head higher with each passionate adjective. "Here\r\nfor three months, ever since February--since I recovered consciousness\r\nafter that freezing wreck--I\'ve been longing, oh! longing to meet again\r\nthe boy whose chaff, whose very chaff, warmed one amid the horrors....\r\nYou didn\'t hear it; you were too far gone. And, _now_!" The little\r\nfists lashed out. "Bah! Who could ev-er dream that he\'d turn out such a\r\n\'chuff\', as the boys say--an un-civ-il chuff?... Una! it\'s never--it\r\nisn\'t, it can\'t be Camp Fire Girls?"\r\n\r\n"It is! It is! I told you I heard singing."\r\n\r\nThe answer was shrill with delight as the wiry note of the little\r\nblack-poll warbler, nesting near.\r\n\r\n"Why! Why! Goodness! That\'s what I hurled at _him_; at his crowing,\r\ncock-a-hoop back!"\r\n\r\nThe older girl\'s face softened, melted into whimsicality now,--into a\r\nfreakish surprise that encircled, like a golden ring, her wide-open\r\nmouth.\r\n\r\nUp--up from the Pinnacle\'s softer side, its tender, heavenly side, the\r\nchant came ringing, the merry chant and challenge:\r\n\r\n "Then--then don\'t take a nap,\r\n For we\'re on the map!"\r\n\r\n"Camp Fire Girls! Camp Fire Girls! Here on the Pinnacle \'map\'!"\r\n\r\nPem caught her breath wildly. Never--oh! never was a turn of the tide\r\nmore welcome.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER X\r\n\r\nCAMP FIRE SISTERS\r\n\r\n\r\nNever was a diversion more welcome!\r\n\r\n "We\'re on the map,\r\n R-ready to prove it with snap!"\r\n\r\nSnap was in the very sunset as the evening breeze learned the song.\r\n\r\nAs for the inventor\'s daughter, her joyous relief was now a hop and now\r\na dance, anon a pine-caught hullabaloo, as she gleefully turned her back\r\nupon the Devil\'s Chair and nickum memories--her face to the glowing sun\r\nof sisterhood.\r\n\r\n"Camp Fire sisters! Camp Fire sisters! Was ever such luck?" she cried.\r\n"Oh! come, let\'s find them--let\'s join them."\r\n\r\n"Oh--let us!" assented Una, her excitement, too, running like wildfire\r\nthrough the wood.\r\n\r\nAnd, presently, the two city girls, wafting themselves airily over\r\nbowlders, threading their way in and out among pigmy pines, with here\r\nand there a needled patriarch among them, came upon a forest scene that\r\nmight well have wakened Queen Mab from her sleep in a cobweb net and\r\nmade her think that some, at least, of the fairy dreams with which she\r\ninspired mortals had come true.\r\n\r\nA dozen, and more, of sylvan figures, the green tassels of their\r\nTam-o\'-shanters waving like the tasseled green of the cinnamon fern\r\nflitted busily in and out among their passive brothers, the trees, not\r\npines here, but a few beautiful stripling birches planted in a sunny\r\nspot.\r\n\r\nTo these white-stemmed saplings, tall and taper-like, some of the\r\nnymphs, maidens from thirteen to seventeen, were playing fairy\r\ngodmother, affixing to their slender trunks placards proclaiming the\r\nexaction of dire forfeits from any wanton human churl found guilty of\r\nmutilating a silver birch tree, stripping it even of an inch of tender\r\nskin, thus entailing upon it decay and death.\r\n\r\nOther of the maidens were gathering fagots for an outdoor fire to the\r\ntune of a version of Andrew\'s song, not without humor in the present\r\ncrisis:\r\n\r\n "Singing whack fol de ri do,\r\n \'Twill comfort their souls,\r\n To get such fine fagots,\r\n When they\'ve got no coals!"\r\n\r\nOne, brisk spoon in hand, was busily stirring some fairy brew, batter\r\nrather--an older figure superintending, Queen Mab herself maybe, having\r\na golden sunburst embroidered upon the heaving emerald of her breast.\r\n\r\nNow! to these came forth two other maidens, emerging, breathless, from\r\nthe Pinnacle pines, and made the hand-sign of fire.\r\n\r\nUp went gracefully a dozen green arms, in charming tableau, as the\r\nwoodland nymphs paused in their work, their curving fingers typifying\r\nthe warmth of the curling flame behind the finger--the Camp Fire welcome\r\nto heart and hearth.\r\n\r\nA genial flame which the Guardian--she of the golden maturity--put into\r\nwinsome words, as she approached.\r\n\r\n"Welcome--thrice welcome,--Sisters!" she cried. "We are the White Birch\r\nGroup of Lenox, at present engaged in protecting our younger brothers,\r\nthe little trees which we planted ourselves. I am Tanpa--signifying\r\nBirch--Guardian of the Group; in everyday life just Myra Seaver."\r\n\r\n"And my name is Lorry--Pemrose Lorry--my ceremonial name Wantaam, a Wise\r\nWoman." Here the spokeswoman for the two strangers had the grace to\r\nblush, remembering the Devil\'s Chair. "And this--this is my friend, Una\r\nGrosvenor, who has just been initiated into \'Camp Fire.\' We belong to\r\nthe Woo-hi-ye--Victory--Group of Clevedon which, you know, is only a\r\nhundred miles, or so, from here; and we--"\r\n\r\nBut Tanpa\'s face had become suddenly fascinated--illumined--to rival the\r\nsunburst upon her breast.\r\n\r\n"\'Pemrose!\'" She echoed the words softly, with transient glow. "How\r\nnovel--and pretty! But--Lorry! Oh-h! you don\'t mean to say--you don\'t\r\ntell me--that you\'re anything to the great inventor, of whom the whole\r\nworld is talking: the professor who has invented an apparatus to--to\r\ntravel anywhere through the air, through space--even to reach the\r\nmoon?... Ah-h, there she is now! I wonder if she\'s listening to us!"\r\n\r\nIt was, indeed, at that moment that Yachune herself, the Silver Queen,\r\nshowed her placid face above the Pinnacle pines, pale on the rim of the\r\nwaning sunset. Did she dream of the Earth-valentine in store for her,\r\nmild old Mammy Moon?\r\n\r\nNo knowing! The Pinnacle, the green Pinnacle, towered until it seemed\r\nvery near to her with the mounting pride in one girl\'s breast.\r\n\r\n"Toandoah, the inventor, is my father--oh! Professor Lorry, I mean. The\r\nThunder Bird--the record-breaking Thunder Bird--is his invention. I call\r\nit that; an ordinary rocket he says it is."\r\n\r\nWell! the sky was in Pem\'s eyes, of a truth, now, enough blue to make a\r\nBlue Peter, the flag of embarking, the flag of adventure; no rudeness of\r\n"nickum", earthbound, boastful, could ever humiliate her again, with\r\nToandoah\'s emblem in her heart.\r\n\r\nYet, as she felt the Guardian\'s saluting kiss upon her young forehead,\r\nso starred by fate, as she was introduced, one by one, to her sisters of\r\nthe White Birch Group and was invited, she the center of a flattering\r\nfuss, to sit with them by a Pinnacle blaze, instead of being at the\r\npleasant pains to build her own fire, her thoughts would turn back--turn\r\nback every now and again, to Jack at a Pinch!\r\n\r\nTo the quick-witted, surefooted youth, so daring, if so unmannerly--such\r\na chuff--who had not even waited to make the rope fast around his own\r\nbody before sliding down the rock to the Devil\'s Chair a second\r\ntime--and who had, a second time too, climbed, unaided.\r\n\r\nBut she said nothing of him--or of her recent escapade.\r\n\r\nAnd she was glad that Una didn\'t!\r\n\r\nInstead, she bathed every sore spot left by the experience in the glory\r\nof telling her new friends all that she might tell of the romantic,\r\nspace-conquering Thunder Bird, while, above, the Man in the Moon,\r\neavesdropping, learned of the surprise in store for him.\r\n\r\nPerhaps he cribbed some hint, too, from the excited girlish tongue of\r\nthe demonstration so soon to take place upon Mount Greylock, when the\r\ninvention would be tried out; and lastly of the thrilling invitation to\r\nthe White Birch Group to be present--not then--but on that Great Day,\r\nfar ahead, when the real Thunder Bird, full-fledged with magic,\r\nred-eyed, fiery-tailed, would embark on its hundred-hour flight\r\nmoonward, as Pem was sure it would start, no matter where the gold-mine\r\nto equip it came from.\r\n\r\n"Well! we seem, truly--truly--to be treading the \'margin of moonshine\r\nland\', don\'t we?" said the Guardian dreamily, enchantment in her voice.\r\n"I--almost--feel as if, some day, we might be inviting the Man in the\r\nMoon to supper with us here on the Pinnacle, to shoot himself back in\r\nthe small hours. Joking apart, it does draw the Universe very near\r\ntogether, doesn\'t it--open the road to such wonderful possibilities!"\r\n\r\nHer hands came together as she gazed, that graceful, green-clad woman,\r\nspeechless, transfigured, along the a\xc3\xabrial high-road on which the\r\nThunder Bird would first pay toll by dropping its golden egg, its\r\nrecord, off--off beyond the low night-clouds to the mysterious sky-ways\r\nwhere daylight now mated with dusk and the lunar lamps were being softly\r\nlighted, even to the gateway of Mammy Moon herself. Throbbing, she\r\nflushed from head to heel, as she thought of the two hundred and thirty\r\nthousand miles to be traversed before the first barrier between the\r\nheavenly bodies had been let down--and the Thunder Bird had won home.\r\n\r\n"It\'s--too--gr-reat for words," she said, a break in her voice now.\r\n"Well-ll! if we are not playing hostess to the Man in the Moon--quite\r\nyet--at least, we seem to be entertaining angels unawares, with the\r\nlatest rumors from the sky," laughingly. "How about supper now? Later on\r\nmaybe we can show you two dear girls that we--as a Group--can do\r\nsomething with red fire, too, a very earth-bound something, mere child\'s\r\nplay compared to the future of your celestial Bird. Ha!\r\nBut--what\'s--that?"\r\n\r\nAnd then, for the first time in its yet unwritten story, the Thunder\r\nBird had its nose put out of joint by a modest little earth-bird--a\r\nhermit, too, as it would be among the starry spaces--by a little,\r\nbrown-backed evening thrush singing its good-night song in a thicket of\r\nscrub near by.\r\n\r\n "O wheel-y-will-y-will-y-_il-l_!"\r\n\r\nit caroled, as a naturalist has translated the wonderful, silver-sweet\r\nprelude of the master-singer of the woods, the nightingale of America,\r\nrising, trilling until--now--with the voice-throwing magic of the\r\nventriloquist, its song seemed to come from quite another corner of the\r\nthicket, while girls\' hearts melted in their breasts, as, climbing a\r\nmaypole of ecstasy, the notes trembled--fluted--upon a gossamer pinnacle\r\nof gladness at the close of a perfect day.\r\n\r\n"Oh-h!"\r\n\r\nThere was no breath in girlish bodies for more than the one answering\r\nnote of passion.\r\n\r\nNo wonder the Thunder Bird\'s nose was out of joint.\r\n\r\nEarth has a magic all her own.\r\n\r\nBut was it ventriloquism at large? Had the hermit power to throw his\r\nmelody right into the center of the ring of girls--so to answer himself?\r\n\r\nIt was the visitors\' turn now for a stupendous sensation.\r\n\r\nAlmost as airy and flute-like, though not as liquidly sweet and soaring,\r\nwere bird-notes which answered back from within the very halo of Pemrose\r\nherself; and she turned, with her heart in her throat, to see who--who\r\nhad the thrush in her pocket.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XI\r\n\r\nMOTHER EARTH\'S ROMANCE\r\n\r\n\r\nSurely, it was the sweetest grace ever said.\r\n\r\nA duet between a hermit thrush and a Camp Fire Girl! Pinnacle vespers!\r\n\r\nIf gladness did not flow freely now, then human hearts were a desert!\r\n\r\nInstead, they were enchanted ground, those girlish hearts, carried away\r\nby a sense that Mother Earth did not, after all, have to go outside her\r\nown atmosphere for her fairy-land,--her golden crown of romance.\r\n\r\n "Wheel-y-will-y-will-y-il!"\r\n\r\npreluded again the little brown hermit-lover, with the rufous tail and\r\nruffled, speckled breast, from an evergreen twig of the low pine-scrub.\r\n\r\nAnd, once more, the aping response, the counterfeit thrush-note, came\r\nfrom some little branch of that goodly green tree known as the White\r\nBirch Group.\r\n\r\n"Who\'s doing it? Oh-h! who\'s doing it--answering?" breathed Pemrose\r\nLorry, feeling thrown into the shade with her Thunder Bird; which wasn\'t\r\naltogether bad for her, either. "Oh! it\'s _you_, is it? Where\'s the\r\nwhistle--the bird-caller\'s whistle?"\r\n\r\n"Here. Look!" A maiden shy as a hermit-thrush herself, with rufous\r\nlights in her sleek brown hair, and tiny, red-brown specks flecking the\r\niris of her eyes--corresponding to the many freckles upon her small\r\nface, with a luminous quality added--opened a volunteering palm.\r\n\r\nIn its concave hollow, also marbled with sun-spots, lay the magic\r\nwhistle, the two gleaming tin disks about the size of a fifty-cent\r\npiece, joined one upon another with an eighth of an inch distance\r\nbetween them, through whose simple medium the music in the heart of a\r\nfourteen-year-old girl had so attuned itself to a little of the melody\r\nin the breast of the thrush as to draw--actually draw--the hermit\r\nhimself forth on to a rock on the edge of the thicket, looking eagerly,\r\na trifle doubtfully, for the raw singer--the mate, who had answered him.\r\n\r\n"Romeo and Juliet!" laughed the Guardian. "Such a dear little feathered\r\nRomeo, with a beak lined with pure gold--and a fairy oboe in his breast!\r\nJuliet--" she lightly touched the brown-plumaged maiden--"Juliet\r\nanswering from her balcony, this mound!"\r\n\r\n"Only a parrot Juliet who can coin such shabby notes to answer him\r\nwith!" breathed the girl, shyly nursing her whistle. "No doubt he\'s\r\nsaying to himself: \'Shucks! Where\'s that hermit--or hermitess--\'"\r\nmerrily, "\'with the frog in her throat, or the great, big worm?\'"\r\n\r\n"Oh! do-o try it again, anyway?" pleaded the visitors together. "It\'s\r\nwon-der-ful! We\'ll be as still--as still as a nun\'s chapel!"\r\n\r\nAnd obligingly, once more, the human thrush lifted up her notes of\r\nspeckled sweetness compared to the silver purity of the strength which\r\nanswered, the hermit fluting passionately upon his rock:\r\n\r\n "the song complete,\r\n With such a wealth of melody sweet,\r\n As never the organ pipe could blow\r\n And never musician think or know!"\r\n\r\nCarried beyond himself--perhaps after all, he was a lonely hermit--he\r\nactually hopped from his rock, unalarmed, towards the firelight,\r\nwhen--when the concert was suddenly interrupted by a woodland gorgon!\r\n\r\nBy Andrew who, rearing his six feet two of gaunt, hurlothrumbo length\r\nfrom a fern-bed, hooking stick in hand, suddenly lifted from the embers\r\na boiling kettle.\r\n\r\n"Fegs! \'twas like to scald somebody wi\' its daffy simmer," he explained\r\napologetically to the Guardian, being, in his capacity of chauffeur,\r\nused to camping emergencies among these picturesque hills--so like, in\r\nmany respects, the wilds of his Scottish Highlands where the Lady of the\r\nLake, an original Camp Fire Girl, shot her skiff across the blue-eyed\r\nloch.\r\n\r\n"My certy! but \'twas pretty to see yon _merle_, though!" he\r\nmurmured, having restored the kettle to sanity. "Fine it minded me,\r\nma\'am, o\' the time when I was a boy, huntin\' like a nickum for the nests\r\no\' mavis an\' merle--blackbird an\' thrush--when I\'d rise \'wi\' lark an\'\r\nlight!\' Fegs!" Scotch humor ripping chauffeur silence, "yon was a thing\r\nto make a sober body young again; a while agone I don\'t know but I was\r\nfeelin\' like the last o\' pea-time; an\'--an\', noo, I\'m a green pea\r\nagain,... or I would be but for the one sair memory," added Andrew, the\r\ntrue-penny, under his breath.\r\n\r\n"Yes--yes, and you had to go jumping around like a parched pea, and\r\nfrightening the beautiful merle, the thrush, away!" complained Una,\r\naggrieved. "Oh! how did you ever learn to mimic its call, at all?" she\r\ncried, catching at the wrist of the human merle, now very practically\r\nengaged in toasting bacon-strips on the end of a stick.\r\n\r\n"My brother taught me; my only brother, Stud--Studley--Studart they\r\nnickname him in camp--I don\'t know why," was the fluttering response.\r\n\r\n"A corruption of Stoutheart, I should say!" supplied the Guardian, now\r\nbusily frying flapjacks. "Of all the Boy Scouts in my husband\'s troop,\r\nhe\'s the lion-heart," laughingly. "So I understand!"\r\n\r\n"Yes, oh! yes, but he\'s so-o nice, with it," cooed the merle\'s\r\nbrown-eyed "mate." "He has never--oh! never--squeezed me out of\r\nanything, just because I was a girl; always said that two--two--could\r\nhunt together and make good headway!" softly.\r\n\r\n"And so they can: and so they will, when it comes to the grandest quest\r\nof all, the hunt for truth and justice at the polls, voting side by\r\nside! Girls! Dear--girls!" The eyes of Tanpa, the Guardian, were ablaze\r\nnow with more than the firelight\'s glow, as she tossed her browned cakes\r\non to a platter. "_Dear_ girls! In the new, the wider future before\r\nus--soon to confront all of you--let us bring to it our Camp Fire\r\nhall-mark: the hall-mark of the woods: purity of the Pinnacle\'s breath,\r\nthe \'pep\' of the outdoor dawn--tenderness of the twilight, when we feel\r\nthat God is near!... And now--and now! let us sing our grace, not for\r\nthis food alone, but for the new manna which has fallen for us--the\r\nglorious manna of opportunity."\r\n\r\n"If we have earned the right to eat this bread, happy are we, but if\r\nunmerited Thy blessings come, may we more faithful be!"\r\n\r\nOn wings of faith the moved chant floated forth, led by the girl-thrush\r\nin a sweet soprano, supported by the sonorous roll of the Pinnacle\r\norgan, the murmuring pine trees; and the voices of the slender tree\r\nchoir, the slim, white-tunicked boy-birches, bore it aloft--aloft to\r\nHeaven.\r\n\r\n"So you\'re not only gifted as a \'merle\', you sing as a girl, too!" said\r\nPemrose presently, nestling nearer to the maiden with the whistle in her\r\ngreen breast-pocket. "You must love birds very much in order to imitate\r\na thrush-song like that."\r\n\r\n"Well! my ceremonial name, as a Camp Fire Girl, signifies a little brown\r\nbird of the woods; so I thought it was \'up to me\' to learn to converse\r\nwith my kind!" was the half-shy, half-spicy answer. "My brother Stud and\r\nI have no end of fun, now in the early summer when the birds have just\r\narrived, and are mating, calling them around our camp."\r\n\r\n"Here--here, let me explain that we have a sort of Community camp for\r\nboys and girls about three miles from here, on the wooded shores of The\r\nBowl, that lovely, egg-shaped lake among the hills," put in Tanpa, an\r\nair-drawn picture in her glowing tones. "There are two big bungalows, a\r\ncouple of hundred yards apart, one for the Troop, one for the Group! Of\r\ncourse, we can\'t occupy them all the time, at present, not until school\r\nis closed, but we constantly go out there over night--to watch the\r\nsummer coming--and for week-ends."\r\n\r\n"Oh! the lake and the woods around it are more wonderful now than at any\r\nother season of the year," put in one of the older girls, an\r\nAssistant-Guardian. "And we can always keep warm, you know, even if\r\nthere is a cold spell in May, because the boys chop wood for us."\r\n\r\n"Yes, and we do their mending; oh! and quite often the shoe pinches--the\r\nstocking, I mean--when the holes are just haggles!" The eyebrows of a\r\nfair-haired, pretty girl of fifteen were ruefully arched, over eyes of\r\nmerriment. "But we do--do have such fun at our Get Togethers--our\r\npicnics and parties," went on she, whose ceremonial name was Aponi the\r\nButterfly of the mountain group.\r\n\r\n"Hur-ra-ah! There are two such Get Togethers coming off quite soon\r\nnow--one the day after to-morrow--Saturday--a picnic at Snowbird Cave,\r\nto explore some other caves afterwards upon the further side of the\r\nriver, the blue Housatonic."\r\n\r\nThis contribution came, piecemeal, from several feasting mouths\r\ntogether.\r\n\r\n"Oh! the Housatonic--blue--Hous-a-tonic!" Pemrose bent demurely over her\r\nflapjack and cocoa, curling her toes under her as she recalled her view\r\nof it from the Devil\'s Chair. "And what about the second Get\r\nTogether--when is that to be?" she asked.\r\n\r\n"A week from Saturday: _Jubilate!_ It\'s our anniversary day as a\r\nWhite Birch Group when we hold a sort of carnival in he afternoon in\r\nhonor--in honor of the de-ar birch trees just bursting into leaf." Aponi\r\nfluttered like green tree-hair, herself. "And that\'s to be\r\nfollowed--whoopee!--by a party: a real, full-blown June dance in the\r\nevening--to which all the boys are invited. And--and, maybe, some girls\r\nnot of our Groups will find an invitation tucked into their stockings,\r\ntoo," slily. "But for the picnic this week the Boy Scouts are hosts."\r\n\r\n"I guess, if they knew there were two strange girls in camp--such\r\ngirls--they\'d scuttle to \'come across\' with an invitation, too!" laughed\r\nthe one slangy member inseparable from every group, whose talk is the\r\nlong stitch in the thread of conversation.\r\n\r\n"Do you think they would? Oh! I don\'t know about that. Boys are\r\nsuch--such griffins, sometimes."\r\n\r\nWormwood was in the eye of Pemrose, pointing the accusation, a new and\r\ngloomy pessimism born of the Devil\'s Chair and Jack at a Pinch.\r\n\r\n"_Ours_ aren\'t!" It was the voice of the little girl-thrush lifted\r\nin blue-jay belligerence now. "Our boys aren\'t queer fish--not a bit!"\r\nrising to hot defense of Stud, the Stoutheart, who even in callow youth,\r\nwas of opinion that Life in every phase was a game for two--in which\r\ntwo, of differing sexes, could hunt together and make good headway.\r\n\r\n"To be sure, they do love to get off jokes on each other--and\r\noccasionally on us," went on Jessie, the brown-haired merle in maiden\r\nform. "They have a society of older boys in their camp called the Henkyl\r\nHunters\' Brigade. My brother Stud--he\'s a patrol leader--belongs to it.\r\nAnd they go on the war-path occasionally--and publish a bulletin about\r\ntheir doings."\r\n\r\n"What\'s a henkyl?" Una\'s mouth was wide open; upon its gusty breath rode\r\nhorned toads and plated lizards, in imaginary solution.\r\n\r\n"A henkyl! Oh! if you ask _them_, they say it\'s a freak of an\r\nanimal that they hunt up and down in the woods, trying to get its scalp,\r\nor--or catch it alive. Which they seldom or never do!" Jessie\'s eyes\r\nsparkled. "Stud says a whole \'henkyl\' is hard to capture; it\'s so sure\r\nto shed its horns or its teeth just as you pounce upon it."\r\n\r\nPem was staring intently at the speaker, her black brows drawn together\r\nover eyes as speculatively blue as ever they had been in Toandoah\'s\r\nlaboratory when grasping, or trying to, grave problems of the air.\r\n\r\n"Oh! I know. I know!" she cried suddenly, the blue breaking up in the\r\nfirelight into a harlequin patchwork of merry gleams. "A henkyl! Why-y!\r\nit\'s a joke. A joke that they\'re forever chasing up and down, trying to\r\nget a laugh against somebody,--that absurd brigade!"\r\n\r\n"Companionship with a Thunder Bird has sharpened your wits," smiled the\r\nGuardian. "A practical joke it is, that most elusive thing to pull off\r\nwhole, point and all, with the laugh entirely on one side! Well! we\r\nmustn\'t give them any occasion to turn the chase against us, air their\r\nwit in our direction, by failing in our demonstration presently--the\r\nsignaling practice to which we challenged them; eh, Tomoke?"\r\n\r\n"No, indeed!" A sixteen-year-old girl, gray-eyed, vibrant with energy,\r\nmobile as the Lightning, the mettlesome Lightning, from which she took\r\nher Camp Fire name, spoke up spiritedly. "We\'re going to flash a message\r\nright across the valley, over to old Round-top, that sleepy, dark\r\nmountain, a couple of miles away, just as soon as the daylight is all\r\nfaded out," she explained.\r\n\r\n"Oh, ho! That\'s what the Guardian meant when she spoke of showing us\r\nsomething--a display--with red fire, eh?" gasped Pemrose. "How are you\r\ngoing to signal--with what code?"\r\n\r\n"Morse code--and a good, fat two-foot pine-knot, oozing with resin!"\r\nsmiled the Lightning, vivid with inspiration. "How--how about sending\r\nover this message: \'Two strange girls in camp; you ought to meet them\'?"\r\n\r\n"Lovely! That will hit the mark!" came the appreciative chorus, to the\r\nsong of logs. "Then--then you\'ll see old Round-top wake up, quick\'s a\r\nwink and \'come across\' with an invitation--an invitation to that banner\r\npicnic the day after to-morrow!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XII\r\n\r\nOLD ROUND-TOP\r\n\r\n\r\n "C. F. G.! C. F. G.!\r\n We are the Camp Fire C. F. G.!\r\n Oh! none with us can compare,\r\n For we looked over\r\n And picked the clover,\r\n And the World\'s lit up\r\n With our Camp Fires everywhere!"\r\n\r\n"And, fegs! wi\' an aging, sober body like mysel\', if he isn\'t a-picking\r\no\' the clover blossoms, he\'s a-smelling o\' them the night," softly\r\nsoliloquized Andrew, the chauffeur, as he listened to that halcyon song\r\naround the Pinnacle blaze--feeling barred out of Clover Land himself, as\r\nhe lay among the ferns, because of the "one sair memory", the whiff of\r\nheather ever and anon wafted to his nostrils, as it seemed, from the\r\ngrave of a fifteen-year-old lassie away back in Scotland.\r\n\r\n"Hum-m! if \'tweren\'t for that, I could maist fling out an\' dance the\r\n\'Rigs o\' Barley\' a-watching o\' those happy lasses," he whimsically\r\nconfessed in the ear of a king fern. "I could, for sure, same\'s we used\r\nto dance it in the glen around a bonfire!"\r\n\r\nBut if the heather in his heart, reinforcing chauffeur primness, checked\r\neven the first lashing kick of a Highland Fling, it did not restrain\r\nhim, that grave Church Elder, from taking part later in something fully\r\nas giddy; a wild and storming torchlight procession.\r\n\r\n"Now! what we need, girls, is a good r-rich pine-knot, with a juicy,\r\nresinous knot in it, that will burn ten minutes, anyway, for signaling\r\npurposes," said Tomoke, the personified Lightning, as the "C. F. G."\r\nproclamation over, the magic moment came for the flashing of the light\r\nof this particular camp fire in speaking fire from mountain to\r\nmountain--across the mile and a half of intervening valley. That\r\ninflammable knot was not hard to find. Split with the toy axe which the\r\ngirl who had won an honor bead for signaling carried at her belt--a\r\nmodern Maid Marion, at home in all woodcraft--it blazed, transplendent,\r\na foot-long flambeau, searching the Pinnacle\'s darkest nooks, winning\r\nsleepy birds from their slumbers, calling upon them to follow too, as\r\nTomoke, nimble of foot as her a\xc3\xabrial namesake, presently dashed up the\r\nhill, with it held high!\r\n\r\nBrilliant as a starshell--where near-by objects were concerned--it\r\ncounted the needles upon the little, awed pine trees. It painted the\r\nwild excitement upon leaping girls\' faces, lit dancing Jack-o\'-lanterns\r\nin their eyes as, scrambling, they followed the light-shod\r\nleader--gold-slippered by the torch--in a breathless tumble-up over rock\r\nand needled carpet, amid scandalized bough and shamefaced crag and\r\nlittle, blinking torrent.\r\n\r\nIt turned to nocturnal dewdrops the bright eyes of the\r\nbirds,--scandalized, too, yet resolved, at all costs, to come in on the\r\nfun!\r\n\r\nRobins, flame-breasted in the glow, a black-throated green\r\nwarbler--blossom of the night--a purple grackle, its boat-tail stiff as\r\na fan-shaped rudder, and, "leggeddy-last," a cawing crow, they circled\r\non low wing after the brilliant torch,--all pecking at the wonder in the\r\nair!\r\n\r\nIt caught the whooping amazement on Andrew\'s smooth-shaven upper lip,\r\nshimmering through a veil of anxiety lest, somewhere, there might be\r\nanother "Deev\'s Chair" around, or a madcap lassie to sit in it, as, with\r\nan irresistible "Hoot mon!" he brought up the rear of the fantastic\r\nrevel; the rush of green-clad maidens, the elfin tassels of their\r\nTam-o\'-shanters waving, and of demented birds for the Pinnacle\'s tallest\r\ncrag.\r\n\r\nPoised upon that gray rock-shelf, high above the ground, her slight face\r\nwith the shining eyes, framed in the radiant torch-light as in a golden\r\nminiature, the signaler\'s right arm held the blazing knot with its\r\nragged, foot-long flame at arm\'s length above her head, then described a\r\nbrief quarter circle to the left with it, quick, snappy--once,\r\ntwice--the arm being extended on a level with the young shoulder so\r\nslim, so stiffened!\r\n\r\n"See!--See! That stands for I: two dots! I, three times repeated, gives\r\nthe call," breathed the Guardian at Pem\'s elbow, her mature face a\r\ngold-set miniature of excitement, too.\r\n\r\n"Oh--oh! I wonder if they\'ll \'get us\', those boys--those joking Henkyl\r\nHunters?" The throbbing question was on every girlish lip. Eyes burned,\r\nlike the torch, across the valley.\r\n\r\nThe mountains were falling asleep in their night-caps of mist.\r\n\r\nBut suddenly one of them, far away, grim and dim, lifted an eyelid--and\r\nresponded.\r\n\r\nThe drowsy valley caught its breath--as old Round-top winked back.\r\n\r\nCaught its breath with many a waking scintilla of light in the pointed\r\nflash of pool and stream!\r\n\r\nA momentary, broken arc, a shattered rainbow dividing the flood of dusk\r\nabove from the gulf of darkness below; and then--and then the triumphant\r\ncry in each gasping throat:\r\n\r\n"They\'ve got us! They see us! Now--now for the message: \'Two strange\r\ngirls with us. You....\'"\r\n\r\nBut there the Lightning\'s lore suddenly gave out, her signaling memory,\r\nas the news was vivaciously transmitted by staccato dot and lengthier\r\ndash, the latter being the same quarter-circle once described in a\r\nsingle movement to the right.\r\n\r\nOver the valley the message was hung up. It was hung up in Pem\'s heart,\r\ntoo,--and the honor, the fair grace, of boyhood with it.\r\n\r\nIf old Round-top unhesitatingly played up, "came across" with an\r\ninvitation--an invitation to that alluring Get Together at the winter\r\npalace of the Snowbirds, then she would feel that a nickum\'s rudeness\r\nwas atoned for--and Jack at a Pinch might go his graceless road, never\r\nto prove a friend in need to her again--not if she knew it!\r\n\r\n"Invite them to the picnic ... and don\'t forget the cocoa!"\r\n\r\nThe valley fairly bristled with the promptness of it--the skilled\r\ndirectness of the message, so rapidly, so spontaneously given that the\r\npoised Lightning on the crag was hard-pressed to keep up with the\r\nmeaning--to read the handwriting of fire and give the interpretation\r\nthereof.\r\n\r\nOld Round-top had seized the shining hour. The Henkyl Hunters were no\r\n"chuffs", no conundrums, with the strange riddle of incivility up a\r\nsleeve.\r\n\r\n"\'Invite them to the picnic--and don\'t forget the cocoa!\'" Tanpa\r\nlaughed. "Just like them! We did promise to lay in a fresh supply of\r\nsundries, as we pass through the town to-night--if there\'s still a store\r\nleft open. And that reminds me, girlies, that it\'s getting late. We have\r\nno right to keep the birds out of bed any longer, demoralizing the\r\nfeathered world."\r\n\r\nBut the Lightning had recovered its morale, its memory, prompted by a\r\nMorse code-card excitedly snatched from a green breast pocket and\r\nexplored by the light of the dwindling torch.\r\n\r\n"Invite--your--friends--to--our--d-a-n-c-e," slowly spelled out Tomoke,\r\ngiving back diamond for diamond.\r\n\r\nShe was beginning upon the word "A-ll", but the pine-knot winked itself\r\nout in a dazzlement on "dance,"--in an effulgence of sparks that fell\r\nlike golden rain upon the hearts of the visitors.\r\n\r\n"Will it--will it be an outdoor affair--a piazza dance?" gasped Una.\r\n"Oh-h! I do love.... Now! Andrew!" She broke off suddenly at the\r\nchauffeur\'s declaration that it was "magerful" show, "yon fire-talk",\r\nthat he never expected to see the like carried on by "tids o\' lassies",\r\nbut that it really wasn\'t in him to stand there any longer rolling his\r\neyes over it, like a duck in thunder. "Now, Andrew!" reasoned his\r\nemployer\'s young daughter. "You know that you\'ve driven my father and\r\nmother, and Professor Lorry, too, to a dinner-party, where the professor\r\nis to give a talk about the Thunder Bird--and oh! may its fiery tale be\r\na long one to-night--you won\'t have to fetch them home for another two\r\nhours yet."\r\n\r\n"Hoot! It\'s saft as peppermint. I am wi\' ye, Miss Una, but it\'s time for\r\nall lassies to gang home," returned the other with paternal insistence,\r\nlifting his cap in questioning appeal to the Guardian.\r\n\r\n"He\'s right, dear. _We_ must be starting for the home camp,\r\ntoo--just as soon as we\'ve seen that our fire is thoroughly\r\nextinguished," said Tanpa. "Our paths don\'t lie in the same direction,\r\nbut we hope they often will in future. As to the dance, it will be a\r\npiazza affair, if the evening is fine--the festive wind-up of an\r\nexciting day, our White Birch anniversary which we celebrate with rites\r\nand symbolic dancing, in honor of our patron, our woodland lady, the\r\nleafing birch tree."\r\n\r\n"How lovely; per-fect-ly love-ly!" flowed from the visitors, both, in a\r\nsilvery ripple.\r\n\r\n"Well! how about your spending a few days in camp with us then--at our\r\ncamp on the Bowl--if your elders are willing?" went on the gracious\r\ngrown-up woman, with warmth as golden as the sunburst on her breast.\r\n"We\'ll let Pemrose Lorry plant the tallest birch sapling in honor of the\r\nThunder Bird. Long--long before it\'s a full-grown tree, let us hope, the\r\nBird will have made its great migration, crossing, not a continent, but\r\nspace! And now, dears, _au revoir_! to meet again at Snowbird\r\nCave."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIII\r\n\r\nCOBWEB WEED\r\n\r\n\r\n"Well! you certainly are the laziest bunch; you\'d carry a whole bakery\r\nin your knapsacks rather than do any cooking--especially if there are\r\ngirls around. Lazy as Ludlam\'s dog you are! Next time--next time, I\'ll\r\nset you to peeling potatoes."\r\n\r\nIt was the chaffing voice of the Scoutmaster, Malcolm Seaver, which\r\nspoke, addressing some twenty scouts who were scattered about the\r\nvine-draped entrance to Snowbird Cave, where, yearly, the little\r\ngray-white junco birds--otherwise snow-birds--fluffy balls, with no\r\nheads to speak of, wintered among the low hemlocks near the cavern\'s\r\nmouth and fed upon the spicy hemlock bark.\r\n\r\n"I--I wonder if you could tell me of what breed Ludlam\'s dog was, sir?\r\nIf he could burn up daylight chasing his tail any better than this crowd\r\ncan, lolling around on a picnic, he must be the limit."\r\n\r\nThe answer came with the low, drawling laugh of Stud Bennett, otherwise\r\nStudart, brother to Jessie, the "merle\'s" calling mate, who was himself\r\nplaying fiddle-faddle in the sunshine, after a four-mile hike.\r\n\r\n"Humph! Well, _I\'m_ off to locate a spring--where\'s the blue\r\nbucket? When I get back you\'ll _have_ to turn to, you dummies,\r\nbuild a fire and unpack the commissariat--otherwise rolls by the dozen.\r\nThe \'duff\' and Frankforts are in the \'Baby\', I guess." The Scoutmaster\r\nshot a glance at a big, brown duffle bag reposing on a mound, capable of\r\ncontaining ten bags of rations, each pertaining to individual scouts on\r\na long hike, yet hardly sufficient to transport the "cates", the\r\nluncheon for eighteen Camp Fire Girls and twenty scouts, plus a couple\r\nof invited guests, on a Together picnic.\r\n\r\n"Are there any boys and girls who are dying to come with me, to prospect\r\nfor water?" he put forth alluringly, to the rhythmic swing of the big\r\nwater bucket in his right hand, painted bright blue.\r\n\r\nThere was an instant volunteering flutter among certain green-clad girls\r\nand lads in khaki, breezing up from the grass where they had languished;\r\nothers held back.\r\n\r\n"I\'d rather explore the cave--I love creepy caves--and we haven\'t been\r\nhalf through it yet," said Pemrose Lorry.\r\n\r\nForthwith Stud, the Henkyl Hunter, decided that cave-exploiting was the\r\npastime for him; there was rarely a younger boy--Studart was barely\r\nfifteen--who did not become the captive knight of this older girl with\r\nthe sky in her eyes under jet-black lashes!\r\n\r\nJessie, sister of Stoutheart, she of the thrush-song in her heart,\r\nwanted to be near to the girl who was mate to a Thunder Bird, too; and\r\nothers were drawn by the same abstract birdlime--or else the bat-stirred\r\ncave had lures.\r\n\r\n"There--there\'s a secret lobby in it," said Stud, "a dark, rocky passage\r\nleading off from that queer black, three-cornered fissure in the right\r\nwall, ten feet from the ground--I guess nobody has ever explored it;\r\nnobody has cracked the nut of what\'s behind that triangular crevice, so\r\nhigh up!"\r\n\r\n"Come--come; that sounds exciting, very exciting!" remarked Tanpa, the\r\nGuardian, remaining behind too, as chaperon.\r\n\r\nBut her husband wheeled upon his jog-trot off after water, swinging his\r\ngalvanized iron bucket after a manner to give the air the blues.\r\n\r\n"Well! I wouldn\'t try to crack the nut, solve the riddle, of what\'s\r\nbehind that queer-shaped crevice, Stud," he said. "It\'s black--black as\r\na tinker\'s pot in there. You wouldn\'t know what you were heading into!"\r\n\r\n"Aw, gammon! I wouldn\'t be afraid to tackle that fissure--find out\r\nwhat\'s back of it--although I\'m not a Tin Scout--ha! ha!--out with the\r\nwhole toyshop to-day; all my monkey trappings," exploded a rough voice\r\nsuddenly from among a trio of clownish-looking boys who hovered,\r\nvulture-like, on the edge of the picnic ground, transfixing with a\r\nsanguinary eye the Baby, whose soft heart was of blueberry "duff."\r\n\r\n"An\' I tell you what\'s more, if I were to climb up an\' in there, I\'d\r\ntrust to my own \'bean\' and a few matches, \'thout any gimcracks," craked\r\nthe boastful voice further, the special gewgaw on which the braggart\r\nfixed his eye, at the moment, being the little Baldwin safety lamp, four\r\ninches high, which Stud was just lighting, attached to the front of his\r\nolive-green scout hat.\r\n\r\n"Tr-rust to your own \'bean\'--your own head--an\' what\'s inside it! Well!\r\nI\'ll admit it\'s fiery enough," flouted the Henkyl Hunter, piqued even in\r\nthe presence of girls into giving back tit for tat. "But you\'re carrying\r\ntoo many eggs in one basket, let me tell you, and you\'re likely enough\r\nto take a leap in the dark an\' smash \'em all."\r\n\r\n"Ha! Am I now," snarled the other, resenting the implication that his\r\nbrick-red head was a brash basket into which to pack all his chances of\r\nsafety, such as were not anchored to the poor stay of a few fickle\r\nmatches.\r\n\r\n"Am I now-ow?" he chortled, very red in the face--and tongue-tied--as he\r\nshadowed the picnic party through the cave.\r\n\r\nAt his wits\' end for a verbal retort, he presently proceeded, after the\r\nmanner of his kind, to throw a stone in his own garden.\r\n\r\n"See here! you kids, if you\'ll let me stand on your shoulders, you two,\r\nI\'ll give those Tin Scouts an eye-opener," he said, retaliating after a\r\nmanner to hurt only himself, as he addressed the two younger boys with\r\nhim, his eyes cast up to that mysterious fissure, outlined, a rocky\r\ntripod, above his head, of which the Scoutmaster had remarked that all\r\nbehind it was black as a tinker\'s pot.\r\n\r\nInto that ebony pot, forthwith, climbing by the willing step-ladder of\r\nhis companions\' bodies, Ruddy, the rashling, presently thrust his\r\nhead--that flaming head with all his chances in it!\r\n\r\nHis body followed, finding entrance through the crevice amidships, so to\r\nspeak, where it broadened out to some three feet across from the\r\ntapering point of the lowest corner.\r\n\r\n"Oh-h! look at him. Do look at him!" panted the girls, held up in their\r\nsearch for pale-faced cave flowers and strange fungi by the "derring-do"\r\nact.\r\n\r\n"Gracious! some of you scouts ought to stop him--re-al-ly ought to stop\r\nhim," shrilled Jessie, catching her breath at the shock of darkness\r\nvisible in the yawning fissure\'s mouth, where the brief flicker of a\r\nmatch now chased bogies.\r\n\r\n"Humph! We can\'t head him off, Jess." Her brother disclaimed\r\nresponsibility with a shrug--while the little lamp winked sarcastically\r\nfrom his hatbrim--but in the heedful tone of the boy who had been\r\ntrained to feel--as Toandoah did with his little petticoated pal--that\r\nLife was a game in which two could hunt together, even upon the trail of\r\na Thunder Bird, and make good headway. "We can\'t turn him back!" Stud\r\nshrugged his khaki shoulders. "But he\'ll strike a blind bargain in\r\nthere. Ha! There goes another \'niggling\' match!"\r\n\r\nA frippery flame, indeed, its reflection flickered a moment, a gold\r\ntooth in the fissure\'s grinning mouth--darkness followed!\r\n\r\nTwo or three of the boy scouts--those who did not, like Stud, show\r\nincredulity, sarcasm gleaming, hawk-eyed, from a ruby lamp hooked to a\r\nhatband, and from a level eye beneath it--held their breath, dazzled;\r\nfor the moment beaten at their own brave game of exploring.\r\n\r\nSo did the girl who had been piqued and dared into sitting in the\r\nDevil\'s Chair--with a sheer abyss beneath her!\r\n\r\nAgain did her wide-open, staring eyes, under their black lashes, sport a\r\nBlue Peter, the flag of adventure.\r\n\r\n"Oh! he\'s plucky, anyhow. I wonder what he\'ll find in there?" her palms\r\nwere laid together upon a spicy filling of excitement. "He really is\r\ndaring--awfully daring, you know!"\r\n\r\n"Ha! Courage cobweb-weed!" muttered Stud laconically. "Well--well, he\'ll\r\nhave tears in his eyes before I go after him!"\r\n\r\nAnd--with that--there was the rasp of a third "niggling" match,\r\nfaintly-heard, far in, a momentary reflection, a tiny glance-coal, in\r\nthe fissure\'s leering mouth! And--and, following that, a shriek!\r\n\r\nA shriek, headlong, sinking and pitching--dying like a falling star, as\r\nif some clutch were stifling it.\r\n\r\n"Hea-vens!" The girls, blanching, shrank against the opposite cave-wall,\r\nwhich shuddered behind them.\r\n\r\nA bat, flying low, a winged Fear, brushed Tanpa\'s cheek, as she stood,\r\ntransfixed,--and her cry was almost as hysterical as theirs.\r\n\r\nIn the blackness of that Tinker\'s Pot behind the looming fissure, were\r\nthere other things--other things besides a boy, a broken braggart of a\r\nboy?\r\n\r\nWas Death in the pot with him? Had he sipped of its mystery--only to\r\nperish? Death--it seemed a raving possibility--in the shape of some wild\r\nanimal, perhaps--a live, a clutching claw!\r\n\r\nTales were always current among the mountains, trappers\' tales--and most\r\nof them airy "traveler\'s yarns", too--of strange tracks seen in lonely\r\nspots, of lynx and bobcat; and even of the young and roving panther.\r\n\r\nTo be sure, a three-cornered tunnel, the second floor back of a lofty\r\ncave, would be the last place to look for such an ambush, unless there\r\nwas some fly-trap opening to it from above. But there might be!\r\n\r\nBoys and girls, both, their blood flamed upon the fear, then\r\nfroze--until the silence, the bat-churned cave silence, was hung with\r\nicicles above them.\r\n\r\nThen, once more, it was ripped from on top by that perishing\r\nshriek--passing strange, remote--but now it was as if the fissure\'s\r\nthree-cornered mouth filled with it, faintly gibbered the one word:\r\n"C-caught!"\r\n\r\n"\'_Caught!_\' Oh! Stud, you warned him; it\'s his own doing. Let\r\nthose other two boys--his friends--climb up to him! Well--if you\r\nfeel--you--must?"\r\n\r\nJessie\'s cry gibbered in agony in her throat, too, liquid as the\r\nthrush-tone in terror for its mate. But it struck a high note at the\r\nend.\r\n\r\nFor Stud\'s hand was groping mechanically for the bright little lamp\r\nabove his forehead, as if for inspiration, his left for the lariat at\r\nhis waist, in defiance of his threat that the desperado in the "pot"\r\nmight have tears in his eyes before he would help him.\r\n\r\nBut there was something worse than cave-tears in question now--of that\r\nStudart felt sure.\r\n\r\nAnd Pem, watching,--Jessie, too--caught from an entering shaft of\r\nday-light which shivered as if aghast, the reflection of the tightening\r\nglow upon his young face--the waggish features of the Henkyl Hunter!\r\n\r\nAnd she recognized it, by the feeling of her stiff, cold cheeks, as she\r\nclapped her hands to them--did Toandoah\'s little chum--for the glow\r\nwhich had electrified her own when she fought her way out of a swamped\r\nPullman, saving her friend, driving it into the teeth of the flood, and\r\nof the World, too, that neither her father\'s honor, nor his\r\ninvention--nor anything he ever turned out--was a Quaker gun; letting\r\nfly with it faintly at a rescuing youth, too, when she bade him "take\r\nUna first."\r\n\r\nFor by that glow as by an altar-lamp, in whose gleam she had worshiped\r\nbefore she saw as the strong boy\'s hand went automatically to his\r\nequipment that lamp and lariat were nothing--nothing--"without the heart\r\nof a Scout!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIV\r\n\r\nSTOUTHEART\r\n\r\n\r\n"W-wedged!... Wedged!"\r\n\r\nNow--now it was another word which jabbered faintly in the dark\r\nfissure\'s mouth! A girl caught it--or thought she did.\r\n\r\n"_Wedged!_" she echoed wildly. "Caught! Oh, maybe--maybe--there\'s\r\nnothing in there but Ruddy himself!"\r\n\r\n"Maybe--so!" Stud panted heavily while, across an inner, gaping hollow,\r\nthe next words took a giant stride to his lips: "Anyhow--I\'m going up!"\r\n\r\n"Oh--Studley!" But beyond this one faint cry, Jessie, stanch little\r\npartner,--the girl behind the lines,--said no more to hinder him now, as\r\nshe watched the scout detach his little lamp from his hatbrim and hook\r\nit on to his khaki breast.\r\n\r\nWith it glowing there, a headlight for his gallant heart, Stud set\r\nhimself to climb. Standing upon the shoulders of two brother scouts, in\r\nhis belt a club snatched from one of them, he reached the lowest point\r\nof the tapering fissure.\r\n\r\n"Ha! There he goes, in spite of his teeth," tremored a younger boy.\r\n\r\n"His teeth aren\'t chattering!" Pem\'s eyes--lightning-blue--hurled back\r\nthe charge.\r\n\r\nThe denial rang in Stud\'s ears as he thrust his head into the black\r\nopening, entering, amidships, as the former muddle-headed explorer had\r\ndone.\r\n\r\n"That girl\'s a trump--the girl with eyes the color of the little\r\n\'heal-all\', that blue flower we pick up here in May! A trump! But so\'s\r\nlittle Jess, too!"\r\n\r\nThus did Stoutheart, a knight of to-day, pay tribute to the world he\r\nleft behind him, when he felt in his exploring knees, now creeping along\r\nthe bottom of the Tinker\'s Pot, that there was a chance of his leaving\r\nit behind forever.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t see what else he _could_ have done," said Tanpa, the\r\nGuardian, her fingers hysterically interlocking. "Somebody had to go up;\r\nand he\'s the oldest boy--a Patrol Leader. But, oh! I wish my husband\r\nwere here. Run and meet him, a couple of you!" She glanced appealingly\r\nat the scouts. "Oh! do--and hurry him back--back from the spring."\r\n\r\nMeanwhile Stud had forgotten even his backers in the feminine hearts\r\nbelow and was banking all on just one trusty ally--the headlight on his\r\nbreast.\r\n\r\n"Without the light, the little safety lamp, I couldn\'t do-o it," he told\r\nhimself. "Gee! but it is as black in here as Erebus, a Tinker\'s Pot,\r\nindeed--the blindest passage--blindest bargain--I ever struck! So--so\r\nsharp underneath, too!"\r\n\r\nYes, difficulty masked was in the "bargain", yet he crept on over\r\ntapering ridges of rock that now and again buckled like teeth. But he\r\nknew by the parched sound of his own voice, as he shouted a question,\r\nthat his courage might have ended in smoke, there and then, if it\r\nweren\'t for the little lamp at his breast.\r\n\r\nSo rosily it burned now, in here, that its feeding oil seemed the red\r\nblood of his heart!\r\n\r\n"Anyhow--anyhow, with it, I\'ll be able to see which way the cat jumps!"\r\n\r\nHere, Stoutheart more tightly gripped the club; the last words might\r\nprove more than mere figure of speech.\r\n\r\nFrom ahead came strange, gurgling, choking sounds, rising from\r\nsomewhere--growing weaker.\r\n\r\n"Where--where are you, Ruddy? Answer! R-rap--rap out something, if you\r\ncan!" he adjured.\r\n\r\nAnd it was--truly--a rapping reply that reached him; a queer, hollow\r\nknocking at the door of some throat that semed shutting.\r\n\r\n"My word! What on earth ... what in thunder\'s got him?" Stud felt his\r\nown breath blow hot and cold together, but--this crucial moment it came\r\nback to him--the eyes of a girl out there had driven it home, with blue\r\nlightnings, that he did not _have_ to defy his teeth.\r\n\r\n"Humph! I\'m no quitter," he told the piloting breast-ray, blazing its\r\nruby trail ahead. "Well-ll! for the love of Mike! Well! what do you know\r\nabout that?... What have we h-here?"\r\n\r\nIn answer to his gasping snort, as he gaped and gasped there in the\r\ndarkness, the little safety lamp told him what it made of it--of the\r\nstaggering sight--it made a pair of big feet in rough cowhide boots\r\ntightly wedged by the ankles in a buckling switch of rock where two\r\nsharp, narrow ridges that formed the bottom of the Tinker\'s Pot\r\ndovetailed into each other,--after the manner of rails at a switch.\r\n\r\nRuddy, the slipslop explorer, had gone in heels over head, so to speak.\r\nHe was hanging by the heels now. Nothing visible of him but those\r\npinioned feet!\r\n\r\n"_Hea-vens!_ he did strike a blind bargain. S-such a snag! The\r\npassage ends here. A drop! A--blank--fall of rock! Gee-ee!"\r\n\r\nDank--dank as cave-tears now was the moisture upon Stud\'s forehead. For\r\nthe first time his teeth almost chattered. What would he see when he\r\nheld the lamp over the edge of the Tinker\'s Pot into the horror of that\r\nempty space beyond where the passage broadened into blankness and the\r\nrock shelved sharply down? A dead boy? Or one so far gone from hanging\r\nthat he could not be rescued?\r\n\r\nAt the first sight of those wedged feet he had felt inclined to laugh.\r\nNow he was laughing at the wrong side of his mouth, as he peeped over\r\nthe brink.\r\n\r\n"Oh-h! the rock _isn\'t_ perpendicular; it slants down, though,\r\npretty sharply--down into an inner cave--by gracious! And Ruddy, the way\r\nhe\'s hanging his nose, is within an inch or two o\' the floor of that\r\nother cave!... And, yet, he\'s helpless! Helpless as if he had a halter\r\nround his neck! Oh-h! if some of the other fellows were here."\r\n\r\nBut Stud did not seem to be quite alone; he was one and a half; for the\r\nhearts of two girls were pendent from _his_ neck; outside he knew\r\nthey were backing him,--praying for him.\r\n\r\nAlso, that frenzied gurgle from the victim\'s throat, his choking cry as\r\nthe light struck him, the squirming body and up-rolling eyes told the\r\nboy scout that he was just in time; although the foam was pink upon\r\nRuddy\'s lips and his congested head was a fire-ball, indeed,--that brash\r\nhead with all his chances in it.\r\n\r\n"Ha!\r\n\r\n "No Loyal Scout gives place to doubt,\r\n But action quick he shows!"\r\n\r\nThe song, his own, the original march-song of his troop, sang itself\r\nthrough Stud\'s brain, seethed in the low whistle upon his lips, as,\r\nguided by his ruby breast-eye, he slid down into that strange and secret\r\ndungeon in which the black passage ended and, thrusting his sturdy\r\nshoulders under the pendent body of the victim whose convulsed hands\r\nclutched vainly at the bare slab, raised it so that the choking boy\r\ncould breathe freely again--and in due time shake off the dizziness of\r\nhis awful plight, hung up by the heels by the rock itself.\r\n\r\nBut not until the Scoutmaster came to his patrol leader\'s assistance\r\ncould those pinioned feet be really freed and their owner brought to\r\ndaylight again, not by a return via the fissure route, but hoisted in a\r\nrope-noose, as Pem had been from the Devil\'s Chair, through a\r\ngrass-covered opening discoverable in the roof of that inner cave.\r\n\r\n"Goodness! after all, he wasn\'t so much more foolish--headstrong--than I\r\nwas. But Una! Una! If you ever-r tell them!" Thus did the maiden of the\r\nchowchow name spill her spice into her friend\'s ear,--burning spice,\r\nfor, privately, she was shocked at seeing her own folly, parodied,\r\nvulgarized, as it were.\r\n\r\n"Well! I should say! He was hanging between hawk and buzzard--if ever a\r\nfellow was," happened to be Stud\'s moved comment as, clinging to that\r\nlowered rope, he was hoisted, too, through that covert opening, the\r\nloyal little lamp upon his breast paling now into a penny candle held\r\ntowards the sun.\r\n\r\nBut the rescuer\'s halo did not pale.\r\n\r\nIt burnished the picnic luncheon which followed, encircling,\r\nrainbow-like, little Jessie who basked in it more than did the\r\nrebellious hero, pelted with wild flowers by the girls--as symbolic of\r\nother bouquets.\r\n\r\n"Oh! let up--let up--will you? Those big fellows will take me for the\r\n\'goat\'--somebody\'s \'goat\'!" protested Stud helplessly, striving to\r\ndirect attention from himself by training it upon a straggling group of\r\ndistant youths, really too far off to take stock of what was going on\r\namong the merry picnic party.\r\n\r\nBut Pemrose was taking stock of them. Her widening eyes, her reddening\r\ncheeks, the little piqued shiver that electrified her chin, told that\r\none figure--one figure--called for recognition; called for it, indeed,\r\nso loudly that it couldn\'t be denied him.\r\n\r\nEvery member of that group--a canoeing party, a wading party, it was,\r\njust landed from the near-by river, the blue Housatonic--was a blaze of\r\ncolor.\r\n\r\nBut the sturdiest among them was simply barbaric. The warm sunlight of\r\nMay dripped golden from his nickum shoulders, bronzed to the hue of a\r\nstatue, bathed his bare knees and feet, his khaki shorts, the flame of\r\nan apricot jersey, the black and yellow cap,--the sheaf of mayflowers\r\nwithin his arm.\r\n\r\n"Oh! how boys--big boys--do revel in color. A girl--any girl I ever\r\nknew--is demure in her taste beside them," murmured the Camp Fire\r\nGuardian, with amused, motherly tolerance.\r\n\r\n"Pshaw! I think it\'s hor-rid. So flashy!" snapped Pemrose; Jack at a\r\nPinch had made gorgeous his incivility and was parading it before her\r\neyes.\r\n\r\n"Oh, boy! Look at that middle fellow. He\'d have a grosbeak \'skun a\r\nmile\'!" gasped Stud, following the direction of her glance, with a\r\nvirtuous consciousness of his own cave-soiled khaki, moderately lit by\r\nmerit badge and service stripe.\r\n\r\n"\'Grosbeak!\' Oh, but I love grosbeaks! And all that color--why! it\r\npaints the landscape," came flutteringly from Aponi, the White Birch\r\nButterfly, least Priscilla-like in her tastes of the Group, when she was\r\nnot in Camp Fire green, or soft-toned ceremonial dress.\r\n\r\n"Maybe \'twill paint the blues in old Tory Cave, if we run across them\r\nthere," put in Tomoke, maiden of the flambeau and the fire-talk. "They\r\ncertainly are a perfect \'scream\', those big boys," her eyes merrily\r\nfollowing that clamor of color now wending back towards the canoes.\r\n\r\n"Humph! they\'d have to \'go some\' to leaven the blues of Tory Cave,"\r\nremarked the Scoutmaster, laughingly addressing himself to a roll. "The\r\nbiggest bonfire on earth wouldn\'t half dry the cave-tears there."\r\n\r\n"Yes, that\'s the den of the Doleful Dumps--their diggings!" laughed a\r\nyounger scout, flourishing aloft a mess-mug, the gray of his rolling\r\neyes. "Bats--bats as big as saucers--no, soup-plates! And, far in--far\r\nin--the sound of running water, like a weak wind!"\r\n\r\n"Running water! Invisible running water! A--weak--wind! Oh-h! do let us\r\nhurry and go on there. We have to cross the river; haven\'t we?" The\r\ngurgle of that cloistered brooklet was already in Pem\'s heart as her\r\ndilating gaze spanned the Housatonic, broad and open, "warbling" amid\r\nits soft meadow slopes, as she had looked upon it from the Devil\'s\r\nChair. "But, goody! I hope we _won\'t_ run across him there--Jack at\r\na Pinch! Flaunting round like a grosbeak!" She bit the thought into an\r\nolive. "Stud\'s no grumpy riddle--if he is a Stoutheart, like the other!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XV\r\n\r\nAIRDRAWN A\xc3\x8bROPLANES\r\n\r\n\r\nRunning water! Invisible running water! The voice behind the scenes\r\nprompting the play,--the grim play of bat and rat and reptile in old\r\nTory Cave, where the rocks wept, the little strolling sunbeams clapped\r\ntheir hands, and the great fungi, primrose-skirted, drooped over a drama\r\nnever finished!\r\n\r\nIt was even more romantic than the girls had hoped for,--such romance as\r\nclings, cobweb-like, to melancholy.\r\n\r\nLike a weak wind, truly, a sad wind blowing from nowhere, was the purl\r\nof that hidden streamlet whose mystery no man had penetrated--nor ever\r\nseen its flow--mournfully as cave tears it dripped upon the ears and\r\nhearts of the girls.\r\n\r\n"Pshaw! Who cares for weeping rocks, though they look as if they were\r\nbursting with grief and ready to tear their pale hair--that queer growth\r\nclinging to them. Humph! Only crocodile tears, anyhow, like \'Alice in\r\nWonderland!\'" cried Ista, the laughing Eye of the White Birch Group,\r\nwhose everyday name was Polly Leavitt.\r\n\r\n"It\'s _not_ the tears and it\'s not that horribly sad lake with the\r\nlittle, blind, colorless fish in it, that I mind--it\'s the Bats!"\r\nscreamed Una Grosvenor. "Oh-h!" as the mouse-like head of the cave\r\nmammal and its skinny wing almost brushed her face.\r\n\r\n"Well! They\'re not brick-bats," came reassuringly from one of the boys,\r\nas the Togetherers ranged through the outer part of that vast Tory\r\nCave--once the hiding-place of a political refugee, whose spirit seemed\r\nflitting among them in the filmy cave-fog which, dank and mournful,\r\nclung about the margin of that strange lake of fresh water where blind\r\nfish played.\r\n\r\nPresumably fed by that cloistered brooklet, whose cell, far in, in an\r\nimpenetrable recess, no human foot had ever trod, the lakelet had the\r\nfloor to itself, so to speak, so that in places scouts with their lamps,\r\nand girls pairing off with their exploring brothers, one piloting eye\r\nbetween them, had difficulty in skirting it--without a ducking.\r\n\r\n"Whew! a ducking in the dark--a cave-bath--horrible!" cried Pemrose.\r\n"Oh, mer-rcy! what--what is it?"\r\n\r\n"Bah! Only a garter snake--a pretty fellow," laughed Studley, picking\r\nthe slim, striped thing up from a corner of the blind lake where it was\r\namphibiously basking, and letting it curl around his khaki arm,\r\ninvestigating the merit badges of the patrol leader.\r\n\r\nThe green and red of the life-saver\'s embroidered badge, the crossed\r\nflags of the expert signaler, the white plow of the husbandman, they\r\nenlivened the gloom a wee bit, winking up at the safety lamp hooked to\r\nhis hat-band, as he bent over the illumined reptile.\r\n\r\nBut they did not challenge it as did the flash of an apricot sweater,\r\nblood-red in the ruby lamplight, of a black and yellow cap, several\r\nyellow and black caps, suddenly--eagerly--thrust near.\r\n\r\n"He\'s big--big for a garter, isn\'t he, Buddy?" remarked a voice that did\r\nnot come from the ranks of Togetherers, of Boy Scouts and Camp Fire\r\nGirls, excitedly scrutinizing Stud\'s novel armlet.\r\n\r\nNeither--neither was it the voice of the nickum, so much Pemrose knew,\r\nas she edged coldly a little away,--a little nearer to the dim and\r\nsighing lake-edge.\r\n\r\nYet he was among them, those gaudy big boys, whose flare of color merely\r\nstriped the cave-dusk, like the dingy markings upon the snake\'s\r\nsquirming back.\r\n\r\nHe actually had his armful of mayflowers, too, the nickum, not the\r\nsnake; _pass\xc3\xab_ mayflowers, with the tan of decay on them, was\r\nnursing them carefully, as if they were part of a long lost heritage\r\ninto which he had lately come--as if he were afraid to lay them down\r\nlest some alien should snatch them from him.\r\n\r\n"He doesn\'t look like a \'chuff\'--a boor. He looks like a really nice\r\ncollege boy, one with a hazing imp in his eye though, lur-rking in that\r\nlittle star--almost a squint; so--so like Una\'s," thought the inventor\'s\r\ndaughter, familiar with the student brand of boy. "Yet how could he be\r\nso uncivil to us, really--actually--snub us, after all he did, too?\r\nGoodness! wouldn\'t I like to get a chance to snub him?" It was the Vain\r\nElf which slept in the shadow of the Wise Woman in the breast of Pemrose\r\nLorry, that stored this wish, laid it up, a vengeful arrow in the blue\r\nquiver of her eyes, now shooting piqued, sidelong glances at those\r\nflaunting big boys. "Why-y _should_ we run up against them here?\r\nWell! he\'ll never get a chance to play Jack at a Pinch--friend in\r\nneed--to me again. Watch me--watch me pick my steps!" She picked them so\r\nat random, at the moment, moving off, that she came near slipping in for\r\nthat eerie ducking, with the blind fish--pale as phantoms, swimming\r\nround--and Stud, flinging the striped garter away, hurried after\r\nher--Jessie, too!\r\n\r\n"Gee! this is a peach of a cave; isn\'t it?" effervesced the scout\r\nsarcastically. "Melancholy so blooming thick that you could almost sup\r\nits sorrow with a spoon, eh?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s a regular cave of despair." The lonely trill of the feathered\r\nhermit was in Jessie\'s answering note. "That sad voice of water, a\r\ncascade--a stream--far in, which nobody ever saw!"\r\n\r\n"I\'d give worlds to see it!" said Pemrose.\r\n\r\n"So would I!" Stud\'s voice was pitched high. "If it weren\'t for the\r\nScoutmaster.... Tradition says that whoever drinks of that hidden water\r\nwill have luck."\r\n\r\n"Well! I\'d let somebody else have the piping times if I were you,\r\nBuddy--if they depend on a draught from that mysterious spring."\r\n\r\nNow, it was the nickum who answered; the same scintillating tones they\r\nwere--how bully they sounded then--which had quoted Shakespeare on\r\n"Something rotten in the State of Denmark", amid other depressing\r\nwaters, half hidden, half liberated by their ice-cloak.\r\n\r\n"I can look out for my own \'piping times\'--thank you! And I\'m not going\r\nto buy any pig in a poke--take any leap in the dark."\r\n\r\nThe scout\'s reply was bristling. To a fifteen-year-old patrol leader, a\r\nHenkyl Hunter, who went up and down upon the trail of a joke, there was\r\na smack of condescension about that "Buddy", used twice by those big\r\nboys; perhaps he, too, at that moment, laid up something against the\r\nyouth of the flaming tone and rig.\r\n\r\n"Humph! hasn\'t he the nerve, butting in?" he muttered.\r\n\r\n"He has--has all sorts of nerve," agreed Pemrose readily, glancing\r\nsideways after the boy whose courage she knew to be as high as his\r\ncolors.\r\n\r\n"The Scoutmaster wouldn\'t hear of our venturing in so far as to\r\ninvestigate that running water, anyhow," said Studley. "My eye! What\'s\r\nthe rumpus now--the kettle o\' fish?"\r\n\r\nIt was a shriek from one girl--half-a-dozen girls. It was a loud hiss,\r\nalmost a whistle, from some pallid vegetation near the lake-edge. It was\r\na black snake rearing a blue-black head and glittering eye within three\r\nfeet of Una Grosvenor, novice among Camp Fire Girls, whose scream tore\r\nat the very stones of Tory Cave until they cried out in echo.\r\n\r\nIt was a dozen green-clad girls scattering wildly this way and that,\r\nolive-green aspen leaves tossing in a whirlwind, shuffling from pillar\r\nto post--from rock to darkling rock.\r\n\r\nIt was--it was a powerful reptile form, in armor of jetty scales,\r\ntrailing its six-foot length away, the noise of its mighty tail-blows\r\nagainst the earth and flying pebbles calling all the Dumps--the Doleful\r\nDumps--out of the dens where they hid here, making them take strange and\r\nshadowy shapes, gigantic shapes, of threat.\r\n\r\n"Let me get out! Oh-h! I want to get out, away--anywhere!" shuddered\r\nUna. "This is no-o fun."\r\n\r\n"Yes! it is--once you get used to it," laughed Pemrose, who--together\r\nwith the Jack at a Pinch still hovering near--liked her excitement warm.\r\n"Look--_look_ at him crimp himself along! Ever--ever see anything\r\nso crooked?" as the great muscle in the reptile\'s body contracted and\r\nrelaxed upon its hasty retreat. "When we girls had our War Garden, a\r\nyear ago, an old farmer said we planted our potato rows so straight that\r\nhe \'vummed \'twould make a black snake seasick to cross from one to the\r\nother.\'"\r\n\r\n"Ha! Because he just naturally has to go ajee!" laughed her scout\r\nknight, estimating the length of that scaly corkscrew, if uncoiled, with\r\nhis eye. "Pshaw! I\'ve tamed \'em--and killed \'em, too," he added.\r\n\r\n"Yes! a black snake wouldn\'t harm you, even if he did bite." Pem was\r\nstill reassuring her friend. "Did you hear him whistle?... But--but\r\nwhat\'s that?" It was just half a minute later that she put the question.\r\n"He isn\'t making that noise with his tail still; is he?"\r\n\r\nShe looked at Stud. Under the ruby eye of the lamp his face--the face of\r\na Stoutheart--had turned suddenly pea-green.\r\n\r\nHis eyes were fixed upon a gleam of bloated yellow dimly seen, under the\r\nlee of a rock, not very many yards away--the venomous, pale yellow of\r\nthe dropsical cave fungi.\r\n\r\n"Why--why! it\'s only one of those horrid, blowzy, mushroom things. But\r\n_what\'s_ the noise--like--like somebody rattling little marbles,\r\ndry peas?"\r\n\r\nThe girl felt her own breath go ratatat as she put the question.\r\n\r\n"Oh-h! only some fellow rattling--rattling--beans in his pocket. Let\'s\r\nget away--quick!"\r\n\r\nAnd then Pemrose knew what it was to look upon a Stoutheart "rattled."\r\n\r\nBut, with that, a voice, a cry, not loud, but strong, exploded like a\r\nspring gun in the cave,--suddenly halting advance.\r\n\r\n"What\'s that outside? What\'s that outside?" it whooped. "Is it an\r\na\xc3\xabroplane? _Two_ a\xc3\xabroplanes? Oh! hurry out--and see."\r\n\r\n"A dozen a\xc3\xabroplanes! A corps of a\xc3\xabroplanes!" boomed back those flaunting\r\nbig boys, of whom the nickum was leader, playing up to the cue of the\r\nScoutmaster who had started the concentrated cry. "Oh, hurry--hurry!"\r\n\r\nShe saw him fling his mayflowers on the ground, that strange youth, and\r\nsnatch at Una\'s hand, to drag her along towards the low cave entrance.\r\nHe made a wide, circling movement to catch at hers, too. But she dodged\r\nit. Never more should he play Jack at a Pinch to her! Never!\r\n\r\nThrough old Tory Cave there surged the noise of a rising wind, silencing\r\nthat weak gust afar off, now baleful, the sound of the hidden water;\r\nreverberating among the rocks, it might be taken for anything, for the\r\nhum of aircraft--for a perfect onslaught of sky cavalry!\r\n\r\nAnd the Scoutmaster\'s cry was convincing.\r\n\r\nYet--yet, when boys and girls tumbled tumultuously through the cave\r\nentrance--the girls by some mysterious understanding, first--not a\r\nremote sign of a biplane, even a meager _one_, decorated the sky\r\noverhead.\r\n\r\nNo flying wires sent down their challenge. And the hum resolved itself\r\ninto what it was: the rising, random mockery of Ta-te, the tempest,\r\nlaughing at their searching looks, going north, south, east and west,\r\naloft, skirmishing in bewilderment to all points of the horizon.\r\n\r\n"Hum-m. There isn\'t a _sign_ of a buzz-wagon! Who pulled off that\r\nstunt--on--us?" bleated a few of the mystified younger boys, while Stud\r\nsilently brushed moisture like cave-tears from his forehead.\r\n\r\nSo did the tall Scoutmaster, heavily breathing relief.\r\n\r\n"Not an a\xc3\xabroplane in sight! Not a single one!" breezed the girls, all\r\nready to be angry. "Who--who put that hoax over?"\r\n\r\n"Varnish right--and a\xc3\xabroplane wrong!" It was the freakish voice of a\r\nnickum which answered. "No! No buzzer, as the boys say, but there was a\r\nrattler, in there, beside that rock. If some of you girls had gone\r\nahead, you\'d have stepped right on him!"\r\n\r\n"A \'rattler!\' A big rattlesnake! And--and you started the cry, to get us\r\nout quietly--quickly!"\r\n\r\n"Not we! The Scoutmaster had the presence of mind to launch an\r\na\xc3\xabroplane. We boomed it," came the laughing reply, as Jack at a Pinch,\r\nsecond fiddle now, marched off with his companions.\r\n\r\n"Who--is he?" Pemrose caught wildly at the arm of Stud, who was wishing\r\nthat he and not those patronizing big boys had caught the Scoutmaster\'s\r\ncue and created airdrawn a\xc3\xabroplanes by the corps. "Do you--do you know\r\nwho he is; that biggest--that gaudiest--one among them?"\r\n\r\n"Yes! No-o! I do--an\' I don\'t!" stammered the boyish Henkyl Hunter.\r\n"I--we--" indicating his scout brothers--"have met him a couple of times\r\nin the woods; I guess his father an\' he have a camp on the opposite side\r\nof the lake from ours. We\'ve talked with him--tried to be friendly. And\r\nhe--he\'s always jolly, you know--like now! But--but when it comes to\r\nfinding out anything about either of them, gee, you might as well\r\nwhistle jigs to a milestone--so-o you might!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVI\r\n\r\nTHE COUNCIL FIRE\r\n\r\n\r\n "Across the lake in golden glory,\r\n The fairy gleams of sunlight glow.\r\n Another day of joy is ending,\r\n The clouds of twilight gather low."\r\n\r\nAnother day of joy, indeed! Without peril of rattlesnake--or marplot\r\nnickum to spoil it!\r\n\r\n"\'Varnish right--and a\xc3\xabroplane wrong!\' That\'s what _he_ said when\r\nthey laid that trap to get us out of the cave, without any fuss. But I\r\nsay it\'s: \'Varnish right--and puzzle wrong!\' All wrong!" snapped Pemrose\r\nto herself again and again, repeating an old saying during the week\r\nfollowing that first Get Together. "Nobody--nobody has a right to drift\r\naround as a puzzle, these days! If ever I get a chance, see me snub him\r\nhar-rd--though he did rescue me twice! Well, thank goodness! it was the\r\nScoutmaster, not he, who played Jack at a Pinch in Tory Cave."\r\n\r\nAnd it was the Scoutmaster, in days gone by, with the help of his boys,\r\nwho had built the great stone fireplace in the girls\' bungalow in which\r\na brilliant Council Fire was now blazing. Across the lake the golden\r\nglory stole, and girls came tip-toeing to the hearth-flame in soft,\r\nceremonial dress, fringed and beaded, the firelight, like dawn, flushing\r\nthe pearl of their headbands,--and Pem forgot the enigma of that\r\neighteen-year-old youth who seemed to have a trick of bobbing up, now\r\nand again, under the lee of a summer holiday, like some menacing spar to\r\nleeward of a vessel in fair sail.\r\n\r\nWell! to recall Stud\'s figure of speech, nobody was "whistling jigs" to\r\nhis milestone heart now--or trying to. The fire was the fiddler; and wax\r\nwas not softer or more responsive than the pliant breasts on which its\r\nmusic fell.\r\n\r\n"I watched a log in the fireplace burning."\r\n\r\nThey whispered it one to another and under the spell of its\r\ntransfiguring lay, bent forward, they witnessed the last act in a\r\npine-tree pantomime.\r\n\r\nA dazzling transformation scene it was: in the glow they could see,\r\nsummed up, each transition of light and heat that went before: dawn\'s\r\ntender flame, the fierce blaze of high noon, ruby rays of evening\r\nstreaming now across the Bowl--hill-girt lake without--gathered, all\r\ngathered, in a golden age behind them to feed the sap of a noble tree,\r\nhere poured forth, amid a radiant ballet of flame and spark, to furnish\r\nlife, light--inspiration--to a Council Fire.\r\n\r\n "I watched a log in the fireplace burning,\r\n Oh! if I, too, could only be\r\n Sure to give back the love and laughter,\r\n That Life so freely gave to me!"\r\n\r\nTanpa, the Guardian, softly breathed it. And in the eye of more than one\r\ngirl the wish was transmuted into a tear,--into something more tender,\r\nmore transported, than a laugh, as the log, in a final spurt, gave all,\r\nand fell, like a tired dancer, upon the broad hearth, its rosy chiffons\r\ncrumpled and fading into the pale gray of wood-ashes.\r\n\r\n"There it goes!" The eyes of Pemrose were a patchwork now, flame\r\nembroidered upon their shining blue; oh! if she were to give forth what\r\nLife gave to her, which of her Camp Fire Sisters would have such riches\r\nto reflect?\r\n\r\nIt had been hers--hers--to share the dream of a great inventor, to look\r\nforward with him to the pioneering moment--the beginning of that which\r\nwould surely, in time, draw the Universe visibly together--the moment\r\nwhen the Thunder Bird should fly.\r\n\r\nShe never qualified that dream by an _if_, wherever the funds to\r\nequip it might come from--or even if it had to wait a dozen years,\r\nToandoah\'s triumph, like that fortune "hung up--" for the great Bird to\r\nmake its new migration to the moon, in proof that space was no\r\nbarrier--when the Thunder Bird, giving all, as the log had done, would\r\ndrop its skeleton upon the desert of that silent satellite.\r\n\r\nBut there were steps to be taken in the meantime--exciting steps in the\r\nladder of success. Those patchwork eyes, looking into the flame now,\r\ncounted them, one by one, and hung in breathless anticipation upon the\r\nfirst: upon the moment, so soon to come off, when old Greylock would\r\nreally send back a shout of gladness, for on his darkling summit the\r\nhand of a Camp Fire Girl of America would press the button and loose the\r\nlesser Thunder Bird to fly up the modest distance of a couple of hundred\r\nmiles, or so, with its diary in its head, and send back the novel record\r\nof its flight.\r\n\r\n"I--do--believe that my father sleeps with one eye open, thinking of\r\nthat golden egg, as he calls it--the little recording apparatus," she\r\nsaid, when the White Birch Group, as one, asked that the special program\r\nfor this ceremonial meeting should be a talk from an inventor\'s daughter\r\nupon this most daring enterprise of the age. "He says that if\r\n_that_ does not drift back to earth safely with the crow-like\r\nparachute--if anything should happen to it, to the two little wheels,\r\nwith the paper winding from one on to the other, all dashed with pencil\r\nmarks--the world would call him a fool\'s mate.... If it did!" Pem\'s\r\nteeth were clinched. "But, of course, without the record, there would be\r\nnothing to show how high the little rocket had really flown--showing the\r\nbigger one the road," with an excited gasp.\r\n\r\n"Yes, I can understand how anxious he must be about the safe return of\r\nthe egg--or the log--whichever you choose to call it--the first record\r\nfrom space, anyway." Tanpa\'s tone was almost equally excited. "And of\r\ncourse the wind may play pranks with the parachute--drift it away down\r\nthe mountainside!"\r\n\r\n"So that we\'d lose it in the darkness--oh-h!" Pem shivered upon the\r\nthought. "But we\'ll all be on the lookout to prevent that, as many of us\r\nas are there--and that won\'t be more than a picked few, Dad says, to\r\nwitness this first experiment.... When--when the real Thunder Bird\r\nflies, though--" she turned those patchwork eyes now, sky-blue,\r\nflame-red, upon her companions--"you\'ll all--all-ll be there. And, oh!\r\nwon\'t it--won\'t it be a sight to watch--it--tear?"\r\n\r\nDrooping towards the fire-glow, lips parted in entranced assurance, the\r\nslight figure became lost in the same dream which had held it months\r\nbefore in a February Pullman, while a daring flame, like a red-capped\r\npearl diver, plunging into the mystery of that fairy thing, that\r\ngleaming stole about her neck brought out milky flashes of\r\nluster--together with those New Jerusalem tints, jade and gold and ruby.\r\n\r\nFinished now it was, the pearl-woven prophecy--fair record to go down to\r\nposterity!\r\n\r\nIn faith--such faith as had inspired Penelope, faithful wife, of old, to\r\nweave and unravel her endless web, steadfast in the belief of her\r\nhusband\'s return, so the girlish fingers upon the loom had wrought the\r\ntranscendent story to a finish.\r\n\r\nTo a finish even to the sprinkling of gold pieces, the yellow bonanza,\r\ncoming from somewhere, to gorge the Thunder Bird, for its record flight;\r\nto a finish even to the celestial climax, the little blue powder-flash\r\nlighting up the dear, fair face of Mammy Moon!\r\n\r\nBut of one climax, more celestial still, Pemrose Lorry could not speak,\r\nnot even to these her Camp Fire Sisters: of the evening of the second\r\nwreck--the wreck of hope after that third installment of a disappointing\r\nwill had been read--when she had taken the four feet and a half of pearl\r\npoem to her father\'s workshop, the grim hardware laboratory, and out of\r\nthe home of light, which she herself hardly understood, in her young,\r\nyoung heart, had told him, doubtful of the future, that she knew the\r\ninvention would win out--the Thunder Bird go where nothing earthly had\r\never gone before.\r\n\r\nAnd he had whispered something--something surpassing--about a Wise Woman\r\nwho saved a city.\r\n\r\nIt made sacred every thought now, and humbled it, too, in the breast of\r\nthis little sixteen-year-old girl, with the mingled yarn in her\r\nnature--the mingling spice in her name.\r\n\r\nOthers had these fair stoles, too, the history of their girlish lives\r\nwoven in pearls of typical purity, crossed by vivid representations of\r\nevents. Drooping to their knees, in symbolic beauty, finishing with the\r\nsoft leather fringes on which a breeze sweeping down the wide chimney\r\nplayed, they flashed here and there in the high colors of adventure--the\r\nquaintly symbolized adventure tale.\r\n\r\nBut none could match the theme of the two little primitive figures upon\r\nthe mounttain-top, the inventor looking through a tube, the comet-like\r\nstreak of fire above them: the opening of a highroad through Space,--the\r\nfirst step towards a federation of the heavenly bodies.\r\n\r\nThe record to go down to posterity!\r\n\r\nYet old Earth had still her individual romance of seedtime and harvest,\r\nsun and storm, peril and deliverance.\r\n\r\nEmblematically depicted these were in the pearl strip of a girl, with a\r\nwinsome reflection of Andrew\'s thistle-burr in her speech. Born "far\r\nawa\' in bonnie Scotland", the thistle and America\'s goldenrod blent\r\ntheir purple and gold upon her young shoulders; there was an idealized\r\nplow, representing the peaceful agricultural calling of her father,--and\r\na jump from peace to peril in the primitively symbolized scene of a\r\nshipwreck through which she had been with him when crossing the Atlantic\r\nin a sailing vessel.\r\n\r\n"We had all to take to the boats, you see," said Jennie McIvor, "for the\r\nship was leaking so badly that she couldn\'t keep afloat but a wee bit\r\nlonger; and we had a verra rough time until we were picked up."\r\n\r\nA rough time, indeed, typified by the wildly driven little canoes--the\r\nmost primitive form of the boat--tossed upon stiff water-hills, brooding\r\nabove them the quaint, corkscrew figure, with the eye in its head, of\r\nTa-te, the tempest.\r\n\r\nSomehow, this eye--the spying wind\'s eye--haunted Pemrose that night,\r\ncurled up in a previous suggestion of the Guardian\'s which, momentarily,\r\nhad twisted itself, snake-like, around her heart.\r\n\r\nSuppose Ta-te should prove cruel to her, as to Jennie whom she had\r\neventually spared! Suppose, on the great night of the first experiment\r\nwith Toandoah\'s little rocket, Ta-te, jealous of a rival in the small\r\nThunder Bird which could out-soar all the winds of Earth--out-soar even\r\nthe air, their cradle--should meanly seize upon the black, silk\r\nparachute, light as soot, anchored to the golden egg, the little\r\nrecording apparatus! Suppose it should whirl both off, away from the\r\neager hands stretched out to claim them, hide them in a dark recess of\r\nthe mountain side, maybe, where they could not be found for\r\ndays,--possibly never!\r\n\r\nTa-te _could_ play fast and loose with her father\'s reputation, she\r\nknew; at least, with the witness to his success as an inventor.\r\n\r\n"If the wind should do that," she thought, "then the World, some part of\r\nit--the horrid World--will say that Mr. Hartley Graham\'s last thoughts\r\nabout that mile-long will were wise ones: that it was better--better to\r\nleave all that money \'hung up\' awaiting the possible return of that\r\nmadcap younger brother--who\'ll make ducks and drakes of it, most\r\nlikely--than--than to turn it over to a Thunder Bird," with a faint\r\nflash of a smile, "in spite, oh! in spite of the fact that daring\r\nvolunteers--skilled aviators--are wild to take passage in the far-flying\r\nBird."\r\n\r\nYes! even that youthful hotspur who used the cream of rough-edged paper,\r\nand was willing to try anything once, though it should be once for all.\r\n\r\nThe girl\'s thought reverted to him now as she gazed into the bungalow\r\nfire, seeing in the gusty flicker of every log that menacing\r\nspiral,--the brooding wind\'s eye.\r\n\r\nIt claimed her, that wild, red eye, even while her companions of the\r\nWhite Birch Group were excitedly discussing their picturesque plans for\r\nthe morrow; for the celebration of their annual festival in honor of the\r\nbirch trees bursting into leaf, for the odes, the songs, the dances, the\r\nplanting, each, of a silvery sapling.\r\n\r\nIt mesmerized her, did Ta-te\'s eye, with its setting of flame, even to\r\nthe exclusion of enthusiasm about the big dance--the joyous Together--in\r\nthe evening, of which Una raved in anticipation now and again, and for\r\nwhich these two friends and rivals in the matter of eyelashes had\r\nbrought their prettiest party dresses.\r\n\r\nThe elders presiding over the destinies of both had given a happy\r\nconsent to Tanpa\'s invitation, and the two were now the guests for a few\r\ndays of the mountain Group at their camp on the egg-shaped Bowl.\r\n\r\nThe sigh of the mountain breeze came soothingly across the lake to lull\r\ntheir slumbers as they lay down to rest, side by side, in the little\r\nbungalow cots of which a dozen ranged the length of the great water-side\r\ndormitory half-open, half-screened.\r\n\r\nYet Pem fell asleep imploring Ta-Te--and lost the little record\r\naltogether in her dreams!\r\n\r\nUp and down old Greylock she plodded, looking for it, hand in hand with\r\nToandoah,--but ever it eluded them!\r\n\r\nMuttering, bereft, she tossed; then for a moment awoke, blinkingly sat\r\nup, to see the moonlight flickering--Mammy Moon\'s own smile--upon the\r\npearl-woven prophecy beside her, from which she could hardly be parted\r\nby night or day.\r\n\r\nSleep again! And now it was not only the diary but the Thunder Bird,\r\nitself, that was lost,--astray in space, and she with it!\r\n\r\nShe was trying to catch it by the fiery tail-feathers when, all of a\r\nsudden--all of a sober sudden--those feathers became soft, flopping,\r\nbuffeting,--real.\r\n\r\nThey brushed her parted lips. They flopped against her cheek. They even\r\nmopped the dews of slumber from her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Hea-vens! W-what is it-t?"\r\n\r\nWildly she sat up--a second time--to see the dawn poking at her with a\r\npink finger and the lake shimmering without, a great pearl found by the\r\nmorning in an iridescent oyster-shell of mist.\r\n\r\nAnd, within, a bumping, buffeting something, soft as moss, dun-gray as\r\nterror--blundering into every sleeper\'s face, as if testing its warmth,\r\nbowling its way along the line of cots.\r\n\r\n"Cluck! Cluck! Flutter! Flutter! Awake! Awake! I\'m lost! I\'m lost!" it\r\nsaid.\r\n\r\n"What is it? _What is it?_"\r\n\r\nNever was such an exciting reveille as girl by girl bounded\r\nup--elastic--fingering a brushed, a tickled cheek.\r\n\r\nThe answer was a screech that made the morning blush, as if a ghost had\r\ninvaded the Tom Tiddler\'s ground of open day light.\r\n\r\nUna shrieked in echo.\r\n\r\nMorale was undermined. Cots were vacated. Maiden jostled maiden, all\r\ncolliding upon a gaping question that fanned sensation sky-high--until\r\nthe bungalow fairly rocked upon a hullabaloo.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVII\r\n\r\nA NOVEL SANTA CLAUS\r\n\r\n\r\n"It\'s an Owl!"\r\n\r\n"Only an owl--a little screech owl! Not--not so little, either! Where\r\ndid it come from?"\r\n\r\n"Yes! How on earth did it get in? Doors--windows--all are screened."\r\n\r\n"Glory halleluiah! It came down the chimney. Look--look at the black on\r\nits feathers, the wood-smuts clinging to it! Down the big chimney of the\r\nliving room!"\r\n\r\n"Like Santa Claus down the chimney! Mercy! d\'you suppose it played Santa\r\nitself? or did the boys push it down?"\r\n\r\n"The boys! Those miserable Henkyl Hunters--always on the trail of a\r\njoke! If they did, they\'ll never own up! Never!"\r\n\r\nSuch was the substance of the uproar as the downy ball of mopping\r\nfeathers took on a beak, claws and big brown eyes, blank and round,\r\nperching upon the foot-rail of a cot!\r\n\r\n"Oh! it\'s as bad as the bats in Tory Cave. And they were so-o hor-rid!"\r\nwailed Una. "It--it just tickled my lips with its wing. Bah!"\r\n\r\n"Bad! It\'s not bad, at all; it\'s dear," cooed Jessie, the merle, feeling\r\ninstant kinship with the bewildered bird. "Girls! Girls! I believe it\'s\r\nblind--blind as a bat, or as the pale fish in the cave. There it\r\ngoes--look--knocking its head, this way and that, against the wall!"\r\n\r\nYes, the fluttering thing, of a sudden taking to flight again, was now\r\nplaying shuttlecock, feathered shuttlecock, to the battledore of a broad\r\nsunbeam which batted it wildly hither and yon.\r\n\r\n"Oh! keep back--quiet--maybe, \'twill settle down again," pleaded the\r\nmerle.\r\n\r\n"Hasn\'t it the face of a cunning little kitten? Such a wise, blinking,\r\nround-eyed kitten! Its head is reddish, not gray--and the rufous\r\nmarkings on its breast, too! Oh-h! I wonder if the boys did catch it in\r\nthe woods and thought it was a good \'henkyl\' to put down our chimney?"\r\n\r\nBut that, as the girls knew, would remain as blind a puzzle as the long,\r\nscreened dormitory was to the dazzled owl, unable to see clearly in\r\ndaylight, out visiting when he should have been in bed in the cool, dark\r\nhollow of a tree.\r\n\r\n"Oo-oo-oo-ooo ... cluck!" it cooed and grumbled, pressing a dappled\r\nbreast and wide-spread wings against a screen, the mottled back-feathers\r\nruffling into a huge breeze-swept pompon.\r\n\r\n"See! He\'s playing he\'s a big owl."\r\n\r\n"Oh! I wonder if he\'d let me--let me catch him." Jessie sighed\r\nyearningly.\r\n\r\n"Do-o, and we\'ll tame him--keep him for a mascot!" It was a general\r\nacclamation.\r\n\r\nAnd the feathered Santa, apparently having no objection to this\r\nr\xc3\xable--finding himself no longer a waif in Babel--finally settled down\r\nagain on the glittering head-rail of Una\'s cot, his fluffy breast to the\r\noutdoor sunlight, his solemn, kittenish face--the head turning round on\r\na pivot without the movement of a muscle in the body--confronting sagely\r\nthe delighted girls.\r\n\r\n"Isn\'t he the dearest thing? Oh! I\'m glad the boys played the trick--if\r\nit was the boys. I\'d rather think he played Santa himself."\r\n\r\nThere was no inkling in Jessie\'s mind, as, so murmuring and softly\r\nbarefoot, she stole up to the visitor, now motionless as a painted bird,\r\nof a much worse trick that those freakish Henkyl Hunters might play, a\r\ngirl abetting them, too--shocking fact--before night fell again upon the\r\npearly Bowl.\r\n\r\n"Oo-oo-ooo! Boo! See me reverse!" It seemed to be what the owl was\r\nsaying to the maidens as he turned the tables on them again and again\r\nwith that teetotum trick of his swivel neck.\r\n\r\nBut he did not scream any more or offer the least objection when the\r\nmerle took him to her tender breast, cooing reassurance.\r\n\r\n"There! you\'ve got a new singing teacher, Jess--a little screech owl.\r\nLittle! My! he\'s big for a small-eared owl, isn\'t he?--nearly a foot\r\nlong. Brush the camouflage off him--the smuts of the chimney!"\r\n\r\n"Well--well, whether he enacted Santa Claus of his own accord, or\r\nwhether he didn\'t--" thus Tanpa broke in on the last flow of speech\r\nwhich was a medley--"he\'s brought us one gift, anyway, the gift of a\r\nglorious day for our annual White Birch celebration."\r\n\r\nIt did prove a banner day, from the breakfast out of doors on the wide\r\npiazza in that matchless warmth of early summer when buds are bursting,\r\ntrees singing themselves into leaf--for "all deep things are song--"\r\nwhen the inquisitive breeze peeps longingly into the yellow heart of the\r\nfirst wild rose and May is bourgeoning, flowering, into the joy of June.\r\n\r\nBelow the bungalow the three-mile lake, a mile and a half across--the\r\ntransfigured Bowl--was still a softly glowing pearl, treasured in\r\ncotton-wool mists which entirely hid its real framing of lofty hills.\r\n\r\n"When the mountains cease playing blindman\'s buff with each other,\r\nthen--then it will be time for our morning swim, won\'t it? The first\r\nreal swim of the season, too," murmured Tomoke, the signaling maiden,\r\nnestling coaxingly near to the presiding Guardian.\r\n\r\n"Yes, if you think the water will be warm enough."\r\n\r\n"Oh! it was quite warm yesterday when we paddled out around the\r\nfloat--the floating pier." Jessie, who was tempting the feathered Santa\r\nClaus, pampered captive under her arm, with every tidbit she could think\r\nof, from cereal to lake-cod caught by the girls themselves, looked down\r\nat that buoyant pier--a golden raft, at the moment--tossing a dozen\r\nyards from the base of a fifteen-foot cliff where the shore jumped\r\nsharply down to the water. Yesterday it had been wreathed with boughs\r\nfor the coming festival: the swimming structure, na\xc3\xabvely composed of two\r\ngreat barrels, boarded over, with a broad plank, as a bridge, running\r\nout ashore.\r\n\r\nTo it a couple of shining canoes and two broad camp boats were moored;\r\nit also served as a springboard for diving.\r\n\r\nBuilt by girl-carpenters themselves--with a little masculine\r\nhelp--presently to be garlanded with daisy-chains and buttercups, for\r\nthe June carnival, and to hide its crudity, it stood, so the Guardian\r\nthought, exquisitely for the practical and the poetic in Camp Fire life,\r\nwhich ever in "glorifying Work" seeks Beauty!\r\n\r\nThe sun was seeking that too, just now, gloating over his own noble\r\nreflection in the green-lipped Bowl,--benevolently promising, indeed, a\r\nday hot for the season, as well as radiant.\r\n\r\n"Yes! the temperature has taken a leap ahead," said Tanpa musingly. "I\r\nthink you can go in--for a short swim, any way."\r\n\r\n"Notify me--notify me if you see me drowning--for I can\'t hear the voice\r\nof doom through my bathing cap!" laughed Una Grosvenor, two hours later,\r\nin consequence of this permission, wading coyly out beyond the float, to\r\nwhere the lake-water rose over the crossed logs of the Camp Fire emblem\r\non the breast of her blue bathing suit.\r\n\r\n"Oh! she\'s in no danger of drowning; she swims better than I--I do-o\r\nnow," shivered Pemrose, rather wishing that June were July and the Bowl\r\nhad undergone the gradual glow of a heating process. "Aren\'t you coming,\r\nThrush?" she cried. "Aren\'t you coming in, Jessie?"\r\n\r\n"I can\'t leave the owl! I believe the boys meant him as an anniversary\r\npresent--though they went about presenting him in a queer way," was the\r\nfostering answer.\r\n\r\nThe other girls, however, were in the water, as those grigs of boys had\r\nbeen before them; the Bowl seemed to froth with their laughter, spray\r\ncreaming around the bare, sunflushed arms flung above it, as if the lake\r\nitself, in festive mood, were a sentient sharer in the joy of these\r\ndaring June bathers.\r\n\r\n"Now--now who wants to dress and come out in the boats for a study of\r\npond-life under the microscope?" cried the Guardian.\r\n\r\n"Whoo! Whoo! That--that\'s a bait to which the fish always rise," cried\r\none and another, eagerly splashing ashore blue of brow and covered with\r\ngooseflesh, yet loath to admit that on this the feathered Santa Claus\'\r\ngift of a prematurely perfect June day the creamy Bowl was still too\r\nemphatically a cooler.\r\n\r\nUp the rude sod steps of the cliff they trooped--a bevy of\r\nshivers--fleeing for warmth and the shelter of the bungalow.\r\n\r\n"Oo-oo-oo! I\'ve never been in bathing so early in the year before,"\r\nshook out Pemrose, to whom the experience--the lingering chill of this\r\nmountain Bowl many hundred feet above sea-level--was rather too much of\r\na weak parody upon her last freshwater ducking.\r\n\r\n"Oh! you\'ll soon warm up. Come, hurry and dress! It\'s no end of fun\r\nstudying water-snails and egg-boats--gnats\' funny egg-boats--under a\r\nmicroscope, with the Scoutmaster," encouraged Tomoke, in everyday life\r\nIna Atwood, blue as her lightning namesake, and rather hankering after\r\nthe warmth of her pine-knot torch.\r\n\r\n"Ye-es; and--and minnows--where every one of them is--is a chief Triton\r\namong the minnows!" laughed another girl, scrambling into her clothes.\r\n"Meaning no minnows, at all--all-ll Tritons!"\r\n\r\nAll Tritons, sure enough, rosy Tritons, brilliant now in the early\r\nsummer, the breeding season, with wonderful colors, the males,\r\nespecially.\r\n\r\nSwimming about, near the surface, as the minnows usually do, the clear\r\nwaters of the June Bowl became for the girls, looking, one by one\r\nthrough the large microscope over the boat\'s side, a "vasty deep" in\r\nwhich leviathans played--fairy fish--seeing everything rose-color,\r\npainting themselves to ecstasy with the joys of mating, the joy of June.\r\n\r\n"See--see they\'re not all red--or partly so--s-such a lovely pinky-red,\r\nespecially around the fins and head--that\'s where they keep their\r\npigment," said Tanpa. "Some have colored themselves like goldfish;\r\nothers are greenish--or lighter yellow."\r\n\r\n"Ha! While others, again, are gotten up as if for a minstrel show for\r\ntheir marriage--painted black, for the time being!" laughed her husband,\r\nthe tall Scout Officer.\r\n\r\n"Yes. That\'s why we like, girls and boys, to come down to our camp early\r\nin the season--if only at intervals--because we watch the summer coming\r\nand can study the wonderful lake life as at no other time," remarked the\r\nGuardian again, and then subsided into private life in the stern of the\r\nbroad, red camp-skiff, scribbling something in verse form to be read at\r\nthe White Birch celebration in the afternoon when land as well as lake\r\nwas a-riot with young color, strewn with wild flowers for gay June to\r\ntread on.\r\n\r\n"Oh! isn\'t it the most wonderful--wonderful season? In the city we go\r\ncamping too late. The freshness isn\'t there." Pem\'s eyes were dim as she\r\napplied one to the lens of the microscope, to gaze once more at the\r\npainted Tritons; she was glad that in the freshness of the year it\r\nwas--oh! so soon now--that the little Thunder Bird would momentarily\r\ncolor the skies and paint the World rose-colored in excitement over its\r\ndemonstration--over the heights that could be reached--paving the way\r\nfor the Triton of Tritons to come.\r\n\r\n"Well! if we spend any more time with the minnows, we\'ll have to \'cut\r\nout\' the \'fresh-water sheep\', the little roaches, and the insects\'\r\negg-boats," said the Scoutmaster. "Speaking of the latter, I saw a\r\ncurious one yesterday upon a stagnant pool over on the other side of the\r\nlake; perhaps the visitors would be interested in it."\r\n\r\nThe visitors were interested in the bare mention. Warming equally to\r\ncomfort and excitement again, they clamored--Pemrose and Una--for a\r\nsight of that raft of gnats\' eggs, so cunningly formed and glued\r\ntogether, minute egg to egg, hundreds of them, that it was a regular\r\nlifeboat--no storm could sink it, and pressure only temporarily.\r\n\r\nYet, after all, Pemrose only half heard the Scoutmaster\'s explanation of\r\nhow the insect chose a floating stick or straw as a nucleus, placed her\r\nforelegs on it and laid the egg upon her hind ones, holding it there\r\nuntil she had brought forth another to join it, gluing the two together\r\nby their sticky coating,--and so on till the broad and buoyant boat was\r\nconstructed!\r\n\r\nPemrose hardly heard, for as the party made its way to that stagnant\r\npool, an overflow at some time of the sparkling Bowl, and hidden in a\r\ndense little wood, she had a sudden demonstration of how, under certain\r\ncircumstances, a girl\'s heart is much more capsizable than a gnat\'s\r\negg-boat.\r\n\r\nHers positively turned turtle--yes! really, turned turtle--at sight of a\r\nlong, gray figure lying, breast down, amid undergrowth upon the margin\r\nof a little stream that was hurrying away from it to the lake.\r\n\r\nShe felt momentarily topsy-turvy, every bit of her, for anywhere on\r\nearth--aye, even if she were scouring space with the Thunder Bird--she\r\nwould recognize that angular figure.\r\n\r\nIt had once pulled her up a snow-bank to the distant rumble of an\r\nengine\'s explosion.\r\n\r\nYes, and surely she had seen it again, once again, since then--although,\r\nsandwiched as it now was between egg-boats and painted Tritons she could\r\nnot--for the moment--remember where.\r\n\r\n"Fine day! Having luck? Catching anything?" hailed the Scoutmaster, with\r\ngenial interest, as one woodsman to another, for the figure was angling\r\nwith a fly-rod.\r\n\r\nThe latter shot a side long glance at the party from under a broad\r\nPanama hat,--then jammed that, rather uncivilly, further down upon his\r\nhead.\r\n\r\n"Bah! The fish aren\'t ex-act-ly jumping out of the water, saying\r\n\'Hullo!\' to you!" it returned in the freakish drawl of a masked battery,\r\nshrinking deeper into cover amid the ferns.\r\n\r\nYet, when the Nature students had passed on, one quivering girl, with\r\nears intently on the alert, heard it fire off something in the same\r\nfern-cloaked rumble about a certain fly being a "perfect peach" to fish\r\nwith.\r\n\r\nAnd the answer came in clear, ringing, boyish tones--from another angler\r\npresumably--momentarily rainbowing the wood.\r\n\r\n"Yes--sure--that Parmachene belle is _the girl_, Dad! If--if\r\nthere\'s a trout in the stream, she\'ll put the \'come hither!\' on it."\r\n\r\n"Bah! Likening a trout-fly to a girl! So like his \'nickum\' impudence!"\r\nPem\'s teeth--in her present mood--came together with a snap. And, of\r\ncourse, she couldn\'t see the gnat\'s raft when she arrived at the\r\nstagnant puddle, for she had borrowed the gnat\'s sting with which to\r\nbarb the snub which she meant to inflict, some time, upon that angling\r\nyouth who had sat, unabashed, in the Devil\'s Chair,--if ever luck held\r\nout a chance.\r\n\r\n"Yes--yes! and if he had played Jack at a Pinch forty-eleven million\r\ntimes, I\'d do it." Her eyes were flashing now like the sky-dots in the\r\npool, forked by iridescent shadows. "So--so _here\'s_ where they\r\nhave their camp," craning her neck for a glimpse of a log-cabin amid the\r\nspruces. "Stud said it was just across the lake from the girls\'!"\r\n\r\nAfter that--well! who could be interested in gnat-boats when they had\r\njust lit upon the ambush of a Puzzle; a puzzle that would only open in a\r\npinch and shut up, like a Chinese ring-box, afterwards?\r\n\r\nAnd, moreover, that woodland lurking-place was just a bare mile and a\r\nhalf across the Bowl from the floating barrel pier, decked, as it was\r\nbuilt, by girls\' hands, and from the great heart\'s-ease bungalow, now,\r\ntoo, in process of decoration for the gala time in the afternoon around\r\nthe White Birch totem; and for the blissful, far-off event, drawing\r\nnearer with every shining moment, the brilliant piazza, dance in the\r\nevening!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XVIII\r\n\r\nREPRISALS\r\n\r\n\r\n "Her tunic is of silver,\r\n Her veil of green tree-hair,\r\n The woodland Princess donning\r\n Her pomp of summer wear.\r\n\r\n White arms to heaven reaching,\r\n Shy buds that, tiptoe, meet\r\n The kiss of June\'s awaking,\r\n The season\'s hast\'ning feet!\r\n\r\n Oh, sure, a laugh is lisping\r\n In each uncurling leaf;\r\n The joy of June is thrilling\r\n Some sense to transport brief!\r\n\r\n Sister of mine, White Birch Tree!\r\n That sense my own sets free,\r\n For in thy dim soul-stirrings\r\n My Father speaks to me."\r\n\r\nIt was Tanpa, with the sunburst upon her right breast, general symbol of\r\nthe Camp Fire, and the birch tree in grace of green and silver\r\nembroidered above it upon emerald khaki, who read the verses which she\r\nhad scribbled in the skiff\'s stern under cover of the general interest\r\nin water-snails, eggboats and "fresh-water sheep."\r\n\r\n"Most beautiful of forest trees--the Lady of the Woods!" came the\r\nresponsive hail from eighteen green-clad maidens, tiptoeing around the\r\nSilver Lady, the emerald tassels of their Tam-o\'-shanters skipping in\r\nthe June breeze that peeped under her fluttering veil, still tucked with\r\nbuds, to kiss those white limbs lifted to the skies, with surely, some\r\nbud of conscious joy.\r\n\r\nIt was June! Upon the cliff-brow, above the lake, wild roses were\r\nbudding, too; and the girls\' cheeks painted themselves with their\r\nreflection--even as did the blushing minnows in the lake.\r\n\r\nBut the lady of the woods had the best of it so far as decoration went.\r\nNever new-crowned head wore in its coronet Life as hers did,--fledgling\r\nlife.\r\n\r\nFor amid the heart-shaped leaves, so brightly green, was the cap-sheaf\r\nof summer wear:\r\n\r\n "A nest of robins in her hair."\r\n\r\nThe poet who penned that line would have gloried in the sight of her,\r\nthat bungalow birch tree, a tall, straight specimen, radiant as a silver\r\ntaper from the black, frescoed ring about the foot to the topmost ivory\r\ntwig, and here and there amid the fluttering, pea-green tresses a little\r\ntuft of conscious life--a nestling with open beak and craving, coralline\r\nthroat.\r\n\r\nHe would have joyed in the sight of the tree-loving Group, too, as the\r\nearth was turned and the first silver sapling rooted deep to the music\r\nof Tomoke\'s voice, softly proclaiming:\r\n\r\n "He who plants a tree,\r\n He plants love.\r\n Tents of coolness spreading out above\r\n Wayfarers he may not live to see.\r\n Gifts that grow are best,\r\n Hands that bless are blest,\r\n Plant! Life does the rest."\r\n\r\nAnd Life would do the rest--oh! surely--in the case of her father and\r\nherself, was the dewy thought of Pemrose Lorry as she planted her baby\r\ntree in honor of that novel Wayfarer, that would first traverse space\r\nand conquer it--bridge the gulf which made Earth a hermit amid the\r\nheavenly bodies--of the great invention, whereof poets in future ages\r\nwould sing, that daringly took the first step towards linking planet\r\nwith planet.\r\n\r\nAnd the tender sapling was rooted in the hope that long before it was a\r\nmature tree that comet-like Wayfarer would start,--the Thunder Bird\r\nwould fly.\r\n\r\nWell! star-dust never blinded the eyes. But it certainly dazzled\r\nthose of Pemrose, that young visionary, as she pressed earth around\r\nher sapling\'s root: would there ever come a time when the Camp\r\nFires of Earth would hail the Camp Fires of some other planet\r\nacross that illimitable No Man\'s Land of Space, first--oh! thought\r\ntranscendent--first bridged by her father\'s genius?\r\n\r\nBut with the high seasoning of that thought came the salty smack of\r\nanother! All unseen in the planting excitement a tear dropped upon the\r\nspading trowel as she thought of that whimsical "Get thee behind me,\r\nSatan, but don\'t push!" plea of the inventor sorely tempted to\r\ncommercialize his genius, thwart its inspired range, because of the\r\ndifficulties about bringing his project to fruition--and of that money\r\nhung up, idle, for the next twelve years.\r\n\r\n"Daddy-man thinks he\'ll be--well! not an old man, but that his best\r\nenergies will be spent by that time, even if--"\r\n\r\nBut here the trowel dug vigorously, burying head over ears the thought\r\nof the possible return within that time of the "zany" who had been such\r\na mad fellow in youth that, according to her father and others, it was\r\nlike sitting on a barrel of gunpowder to have anything to do with him,\r\nso sure were you to come to grief through his explosive pranks. And yet,\r\nand yet--perhaps it was the dash of spice in her name--Pem could not\r\nhelp feeling an interest for his own sake in that "hot tamale", the\r\nThunder Bird\'s rival in the will!\r\n\r\nSo she spaded away, watering her sapling for the first time, herself,\r\nwith that little tributary tear; and then, propitiating it, after the\r\nmanner of the Indians, in the graceful Leaf Dance, capering around it,\r\naround the Queen Birch, too, with her companions, upon the lightest\r\nfantastic toe, their green arms outstretched and waving, to imitate the\r\nleaves above them, blown by the wind.\r\n\r\nWent the phonograph upon the bungalow piazza, as it threw off the music,\r\nthe quaint Indian accompaniment to those stamping, shuffling, skipping\r\nfeet, to the queer little half-savage syllables, borrowed from the Creek\r\nIndians, upon the lips of the chanting, dancing girls, to the coconut\r\nhand-rattle wielded by Aponi, the Butterfly, most fairy-like of the\r\ngreen dancers, as she led and led, in honor of the new _idlwissi_,\r\nor tree-hair, the listening leaves--ethereal partners overhead.\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\nContaining little pebbles picked from the lake-side, with a stick\r\nrunning through the painted coconut-shell for a handle, its gleeful\r\nrattle fairly turned girls\' heads with the joy of June.\r\n\r\n"I think we\'ll have to ask you to repeat that dance to-night for the\r\nbenefit of the boys, your guests," said the Scoutmaster, who was\r\nmanipulating the phonograph. "Fairyland wouldn\'t be \'in it\' with the\r\nhuman leaves tripping in pink and gold and green and--no ordinary man\r\nknows what!"\r\n\r\nFairyland, indeed, seemed beaten hollow as "across the lake in golden\r\nglory" the waning sunbeams of early June bathed the little floating\r\npier, wreathed in laurel and daisy chains, then climbed with flagging\r\nfeet, like a tired angel, the sod-steps cut into the side of the steep\r\ncliff, and, gaining the top, joined their rose-colored brothers skipping\r\namong girlish forms in every fair hue imaginable, claiming partners in a\r\ndance as of Northern Lights before ever their human brothers, the scouts\r\nin gilded khaki, got a chance at a reel.\r\n\r\n"Oh! I feel it in my toes that this is going to be a won-der-ful party,"\r\nsaid Toandoah\'s little pal, kicking lightly, impatiently with those\r\nsatin toes of her party slippers at the tufted grass, as she sat\r\nenthroned upon the sod of the cliff\'s brow, with two knights beside her,\r\nStud of the stout heart, and a bright-eyed luckless tenderfoot, whose\r\nparents, in a fit of dementia surely, had named him Louis Philip Green,\r\nwhich, as he used only the initial letter of his second name, had of\r\ncourse entailed a nickname.\r\n\r\n"You promised you\'d dance the Lancers with me, although I\'m only a\r\ntenderfoot," said Peagreen, nibbling a blade of grass as he lay prone\r\nupon the sod and shooting a glance, bright and eager as a robin\'s, in\r\nthe direction of the black-haired girl with those skybeams in her eyes\r\nunder inky lashes.\r\n\r\n"Humph! The cheek of some kids who ought to be tucked up in their\r\nBeehive when--when that dance comes off!" grumbled the fifteen-year-old\r\nStud, with the arrogance of a Patrol Leader, directing his glance at a\r\nbrown, conical bungalow flanking a large one, where the younger boys\r\nturned in at what seemed to them unseemly hours, while scout veterans\r\nsat up overhauling the day\'s doings for an occasion of a laugh against\r\nsomebody, practical joke, of course, preferred, to be published in the\r\nHenkyl Hunter\'s typewritten Bulletin and hung up in the porch next\r\nmorning.\r\n\r\n"Well! I\'m safe for the Grand March, anyhow--and the Virginia reel, too,\r\neh!" Stud dug congratulatory fists into his brown sides, wriggling\r\naggressively upon the cliff-brow, like Peagreen figuratively hugging the\r\nground with an impatient nose.\r\n\r\nPrivately he was inclined to the opinion that the blue-eyed girl\'s\r\nfriend who had that little nearsighted stand in one of her dark eyes,\r\nand two dimples to Pemrose\'s one, was the daintier "peach" of the\r\ntwo--and that his own sister, Jess, was as pretty as either; but think\r\nof the distinction of leading off with a girl whose father would lead\r\noff amid the dance of planets, in sending a messenger to the moon, Mars,\r\ntoo, maybe!\r\n\r\n"Whoopee!" He kicked the sod as if spurning it as common or garden\r\nearth--although there were moments when, like others--elders--in a\r\nskeptical world, he told himself that the Thunder Bird would prove,\r\nafter all, a Flying Dutchman,--just an extravagant dream.\r\n\r\n"So--so you were out on the lake this morning, studying pond life with\r\nthe professor," he said, alluding to the Scoutmaster. "He\'s instructor\r\nin a college and each year he gets us started on something; last summer\r\nit was astronomy--he brought a small telescope along."\r\n\r\nPem\'s heels drummed more excitedly on the sod--the starry heavens were\r\n_her_ scope.\r\n\r\n"But we have a good deal of fun with the big compound microscope,\r\ntoo--and more without it," acknowledged Studley. "Fancy last week we\r\ncaught a huge pike which had jumped clear out of the water, on to the\r\nbank, after a water-hen!"\r\n\r\n"Where was that? How--how big was it?" The girlish questions mounted\r\nhelter-skelter.\r\n\r\n"The pike? Oh! he weighed about fifteen pounds. It was right over there,\r\non the other side of the lake," pointing to the spot where the party\r\ninterested in egg-boats had landed that morning. "He--he gobbled the\r\nhen, too."\r\n\r\n"_Did_ he?" But he might have been threatening to gobble her,\r\njudging by the start which the girl gave at the moment.\r\n\r\nHer heart jumped down to the water\'s edge as abruptly as did the cliff\r\nbeneath her.\r\n\r\nHer eyes were on a boat rowing out of the sunset\'s eye directly across\r\nthe lake from that very spot.\r\n\r\nThere was but one individual in it and he--he was rowing by instinct, as\r\nthe birds fly, for his gaze was glued to a newspaper sheet, the sun\'s\r\nown evening edition, gorgeously printed by the painted rays in every hue\r\nof the spectrum.\r\n\r\nHe was heading straight--straight for the floating wharf with its\r\nplank-bridge running out ashore.\r\n\r\nJack at a Pinch again!\r\n\r\n"Do--do you know who he is?" Pem flashed the question upon the older of\r\nher two boy-knights.\r\n\r\n"Well-ll! I guess so." Stud\'s joy in the recognition floundered a\r\nlittle. "He--he\'s the fellow--one of the fellows--who boomed the\r\na\xc3\xabroplane, the other day, to get you girls quietly out of the cave, when\r\nthere was a \'rattler--\'"\r\n\r\n"As if we\'d have made a fuss, anyhow!" The girl\'s eyes blazed, again a\r\npatchwork, drawing their red center from the sun. "You said--you said\r\nthat it was so hard to make friends with him, like whistling jigs to a\r\nmilestone--ah!" Her own voice was suddenly stony. "Have you--oh! have\r\nyou made any headway since?"\r\n\r\n"Humph! Yes. I\'ve found out something about him."\r\n\r\nThe patrol leader\'s preoccupied eyes were on the boat edging vaguely\r\nnearer to the wharf, with its one "nickum" figure, so nonchalantly\r\nrowing, so absorbed in the rainbowed sheet upon its knees that at this\r\nmoment it awkwardly "caught a crab" and almost suggestively lost an oar.\r\n\r\nSimultaneously, however, the phonograph on the piazza struck up, as a\r\nprelude to festivities, the Virginia reel, the notes tripping gaily out\r\nacross the painted lake; and the rower shot one glance upward, as if to\r\nsay: "I\'ll be there in time!" then bent his hungry nose to the paper\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n"What--what did you find out about him?" Pem\'s interest was equally\r\nhungry--positively famishing. "His name--eh?"\r\n\r\n"Ha--that\'s the question! Over on Greylock the farmers\' sons call him\r\nShooting Star\', alias \'Starry\'," with a boyish laugh, "because when they\r\nwere awf\'ly hard up for a player in the last ball game of the series\r\nagainst Willard College, having lost their second baseman and substitute\r\ntoo, by gracious! he breezed along, an\' the captain, hearing he had\r\nplayed on a college team, roped him in ... an\'--an\', what do you know,\r\nbut he won the game for that mountain team with a home run! A home run\r\nover the left field fence! Bully!"\r\n\r\n"But, surely, _they_ know his--real--name!" Pem\'s aloof absorption\r\nin that fell like fog-drip even upon the glow from that left field\r\nfence.\r\n\r\n"Maybe they do--and maybe they don\'t! He refused it to the fans. And\r\nwhen the Greylock coach cornered him he palmed it off as Selkirk. But my\r\ncousin who\'s pitcher on the team says in his opinion that was just\r\n\'throwing a tub to a whale\'--something fishy about it, see?" Stud\r\nwinked. "For \'Starry\' an\' his father--who\'s a queer fish, if ever there\r\nwas one--had a camp then up on Greylock peak, and the postmaster in\r\ncharge o\' the Greylock mail owned that he received letters for them\r\naddressed to another name--only he couldn\'t--wouldn\'t--give it away."\r\n\r\n"_Wha-at!_"\r\n\r\nPem\'s hand suddenly smote her lips.\r\n\r\nHer wide eyes were no patchwork now. Stud had not thought that a girl\'s\r\neyes could be so blue. It almost gave him the "Willies", their remote,\r\npeculiar sky-glow, as if afar--afar--they were seeing things.\r\n\r\n"What!" she gasped again, while that vivid glow faded, became bluish,\r\nblank, the tint of "Moonshine"--of a strange, wild, nondescript dream.\r\n\r\nMoonshine that seemed flooding her whole being!\r\n\r\nAnd yet--although she was a quick-witted girl--it was too vague for her\r\nto draw from it one clear thought--only an uneasy, unreal, absolutely\r\nbreathless feeling!\r\n\r\nAnd then the queer, air-drawn sensation as suddenly passed--and with it\r\nthe blue moon which had momentarily turned her world to\r\nnothing--"shooed" off by a very real, very tangible, quite pressing\r\napprehension:\r\n\r\n"He--he\'s not coming to the da-nce?"\r\n\r\nShe sprang up hurriedly, pointing to the boat below; to its one\r\npreoccupied figure, clad neither in rough sweater nor May-fly gaudiness,\r\nnow, but, if the sunset didn\'t exaggerate, in a very becoming dark suit.\r\n\r\n"Humph! I don\'t know! I guess he is! Didn\'t think he could pull it off\r\nfor some reason or other--" Stud\'s shoulders were shrugged. "But, maybe,\r\nhe\'s found where there\'s a will there\'s a way."\r\n\r\n"Why-y?" The girl\'s lips were parted breathlessly, her foot\r\ninvoluntarily stamping.\r\n\r\n"Oh! you know you told us to invite our friends to the party; not you,\r\nbut the other girls did, when they signaled across that night from the\r\ngreen Pinnacle--gee! and it was some signaling, too." The scout\'s glance\r\nwas teasing now as it shot up from the grass. "So--so one of the older\r\nboys he ran across that bunch o\' fellows who were blooming round in the\r\ncave the other day--they\'re all from camps on the lake--and invited the\r\nwhole five. This one thought he couldn\'t accept, but I guess he\'s making\r\na dash at it--at coming just the same!"\r\n\r\n"Oh!... Oh, _dear_! I wish he wasn\'t!"\r\n\r\n"Why?" Now it was the scout\'s turn to hang, breathless, upon the\r\ninterrogation as he too jumped to his feet.\r\n\r\n"Because--oh! because I\'d be--be ever so much more comfortable without\r\nhim--enjoy myself more." Pem caught her breath wildly.\r\n\r\n"Then \'twill be A. W. O. L. for him! ... A. W. O. L. for him--if I\r\nperish for it!"\r\n\r\n"What--what does that mean?"\r\n\r\n"Absent With-Out Leave, as they set it down in the Army!"\r\n\r\nMischief leaped to the Henkyl Hunter\'s eye.\r\n\r\nHe beckoned Peagreen from the grass to follow him. A whisper in the\r\ntender-foot\'s ear and down the winding sod-steps of the cliff they\r\nscrambled!\r\n\r\nPem knew that she ought to call them back; knew it from the white\r\nparting at the side of her throbbing little head to the toe of her satin\r\nslipper tumultuously beating the ground, as she sank down, an orchid\r\namid her chiffons, to watch.\r\n\r\nBut it was a moment when the spice of her chowchow name had all spilled\r\nover; when the Vain Elf which, according to her father, slept in the\r\nshadow of the Wise Woman, was broadly--mutinously--awake.\r\n\r\nThe boat had drawn in alongside the decked float now.\r\n\r\nIt was gently rocking there, on and off, the rower having shipped his\r\noars and laid them beside him, his strong fingers now and again hooking\r\nthe wharf when there was danger of his drifting away, while his obsessed\r\nnose was bent closer still to the newspaper sheet, catching the last\r\nrays of daylight on it.\r\n\r\nHe did not look up when the scouts, running out over the plank bridge,\r\nspoke to him.\r\n\r\nSuddenly one of them--Stud it was--leaned down and snatched the oars,\r\nlifted them high in the air, the nickum\'s evil genius having prompted\r\nhim to lay them in the boat\'s side nearest the wharf; perhaps it was the\r\ndemon which he had dared by sitting in the Devil\'s Chair.\r\n\r\nAt the same time Peagreen gave the boat a strong shove outward to where\r\na current caught it and swept it further--mockingly further, towards the\r\ndarkening center of the Bowl.\r\n\r\n"Oh! I say--I say, you fellows, that\'s no stunt to pull off!" roared the\r\nnickum wrathfully. "I\'m due at the dance now!"\r\n\r\n"You\'re not coming to the dance. There\'s a girl here who doesn\'t want\r\nyou!" rang back the voice of callow chivalry in the barbarous pipe of\r\nthe tenderfoot.\r\n\r\nAnd Pem, slipping up from the grass, her hands to her burning\r\ncheeks--for she had not meant it to go as far as this--stole back to the\r\npiazza, to dance away from the shamefaced ecstasy of reprisal in her\r\nheart.\r\n\r\nPerhaps she would have felt that this was too sore a snub to inflict for\r\nany rudeness on Jack at a Pinch; perhaps she would have compelled her\r\nboy-knights to put out in the camp skiff and return those oars--under\r\npain of not dancing with them, at all--had she seen the illuminated\r\ncolumn over which the victim\'s nose had been so disastrously bent.\r\n\r\nIt was in every sense a highly colored description of her father\'s\r\nrecord-breaking invention, dwelling particularly, though vaguely, upon\r\nthe experiments so soon to take place with a lesser Thunder Bird, a\r\nsmaller rocket, from the remote and misty top of old Mount Greylock.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XIX\r\n\r\nA RECORD FLIGHT\r\n\r\n\r\nIt had come at last, that starless night, that stupendous night of which\r\nPemrose had dreamed for a year, as she perched on a laboratory stool and\r\nwatched her father at work, when the little Thunder Bird, the smaller\r\nrocket, would take its experimenting flight, its preliminary canter, up\r\na couple of hundred miles, or so, into the air,--and on into thin space.\r\n\r\nMost dashing explorer ever was, it would keep a diary, or log, of its\r\nflying trip.\r\n\r\nBut whereas travelers, hitherto, had carried that up a sleeve or in a\r\nbreast-pocket, it would have its journal in its cone-shaped head; the\r\nlittle openwork box, five inches square, with the tape-like paper\r\nwinding from one to another of the wheels within and the tiny pencil\r\nmaking shorthand markings, curve or dash, as the air pressed upon it,\r\nuntil it got beyond the air-belt altogether--out into that bitter void\r\nof space, where pressure there was none.\r\n\r\nNo wonder that the inventor called this log the golden egg, for when the\r\nmagic Bird had flown its furthest, when all the little powder-rockets\r\nwhich, exploding successively, sent it on its way, were spent, then its\r\ndying scream would release the log from its bursting head.\r\n\r\nBack that would come, fluttering to earth on the wing of a sable\r\nparachute, lit on the way, as it drifted down two hundred miles, or so,\r\nby the glowworm gleam of a tiny electric battery,--a little dry cell\r\nattached to it!\r\n\r\nAnd this, really, was, as Pemrose had said, the kernel of the present\r\nexperiment to her father, the only witness to prove that the baby\r\nThunder Bird had, indeed, "got there", flown higher than anything\r\nearthly had ever ventured before; and that if a little two-footer in the\r\nshape of a sky-rocket had done so much, then there was nothing to\r\nprevent a twenty-foot steel Bird from flying on indefinitely,--even to\r\nMammy Moon, herself, or fiery-eyed Mars, perhaps.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t believe that Dad has slept for two nights now, thinking about\r\nits safe return," said Pemrose to Una, as in the starless,\r\nbreeze-tickled night the two crouched together upon the mountain-top.\r\n\r\n"Well! that little firefly, the tiny electric lamp--the \'wee bit\r\nbattery\', as Andrew calls it--will guide us to finding it when it drifts\r\ndown," panted the other girl, excitement fixing that little peculiar\r\nstand, like a golden lamp, in her dark eye.\r\n\r\n"Yes, but--" perhaps her dream in the bungalow of Ta-te, the tempest,\r\nwas affecting Pemrose--"but suppose, oh! suppose, that the wind--there\r\nis a wind--should waft it away--away from us, down the mountainside, to\r\nwhere we couldn\'t find it in the woods--dark woods--to where somebody,\r\nsome horrid meddler, might pick it up, and get a look at the Thunder\r\nBird\'s diary before us ... the first record from so high up. Oh--dear!"\r\n\r\nThe girl\'s sigh was echoed by that stealthy wind around her, in whose\r\nevery whisper there was menace, as it swept through the long grasses and\r\nruffled the ash trees of Greylock\'s summit.\r\n\r\nUna, to whom this "half the battle", the quick locating of the parachute\r\nand its treasure, was not so vital, soared above all threat in this\r\nwitching-time of excitement--the transcendent hour.\r\n\r\n"The Thunder Bird\'s diary! Oh-h! the Thunder Bird\'s diary," she repeated\r\ndreamily, as if reciting a charm.\r\n\r\nBeing Camp Fire Girls of fervid imagination, the supreme invention, the\r\nbeginning of old Earth\'s reaching out to the heavenly bodies, gained its\r\ncrowning romance from them.\r\n\r\nAs moment by moment flew by romance in their young breasts became a sort\r\nof rhapsody that set every thought to wild music.\r\n\r\nTo Pem it was as she had dreamed it would be, away back in her father\'s\r\nlaboratory, before the February train wreck.\r\n\r\nHands seemed reaching out to her from everywhere,--she the satellite\r\nreflecting her father\'s light.\r\n\r\nFrom the four quarters of the habitable earth eyes seemed trained upon\r\nher, as she knelt in a little island of flashlight, with her thumb on an\r\nelectric button which, connected by wires with a platform about a\r\nhundred feet away, would throw the switch and release the magic Bird to\r\nflying.\r\n\r\n"N-now, keep cool, Pem! Don\'t get excited--too ex-ci-ted--or-r you may\r\nmiss the moment when they shout to you: \'R-ready! Shoot!\'" breathed Una,\r\nso wrought up herself that her words had a sort of little zip, a hiss,\r\nin them, like the soft sighing of the breeze at the moment.\r\n\r\nPemrose knew that her father\'s thoughts were taken up all the time with\r\nthat summit breeze, on how far it might affect the safe return of the\r\ngolden egg, as he hovered about the low platform, a hundred feet away,\r\non which the little Thunder Bird was mounted, together with his young\r\nassistant tightening up every bolt and screw for the record flight. A\r\nthird tall figure hovered near, within the ring of distant flashlight,\r\nthat of Una\'s father, as transported now over the whole experiment as if\r\nhe had never hinted that the far-flying rocket was a Quaker gun.\r\n\r\nWith the girls in their little fairy-like ring of electric light--to go\r\nout like a will o\' the wisp presently--was their usual body-guard, old\r\nAndrew, who had driven the party up the mountain.\r\n\r\n"Cannily noo, lassie! _Cannily._ Dinna be fechless--flighty!" The\r\nScot was breathing like a Highland gust as he cautioned the girl whose\r\ntingling little thumb touched lightly as thistledown the fairy button.\r\n"Whoop!" he grunted sharply. "I reckon they\'re maist ready, noo, to gie\r\nit its fling--let it go!"\r\n\r\nIt was at this moment that in the distant island of flashlight an arm\r\nwas flung up. It was that of the professor\'s young assistant.\r\n\r\nHe forgot to bring it down again.\r\n\r\nAnd, lo! a hush, as of a world suspended, fell upon old Greylock,--that\r\ngrim, black mountain-top.\r\n\r\nThe long grasses ceased to whisper. The mountain-ash trees cuddled their\r\nlittle pale berry-babies in awe.\r\n\r\n"All R-ready! _Shoot!_"\r\n\r\nToandoah\'s battle-cry it was.\r\n\r\nA roar as of a small brass cannon, the first gun of the new conquest,\r\nresponded, as the hand of a Camp Fire Girl of America pressed the\r\nbutton, triumphantly throwing the switch in the nozzle, or tailpart, of\r\nthe mounted rocket, a hundred feet away.\r\n\r\nSimultaneously the flashlights went out.\r\n\r\nAnd in the darkness--into the blackness the little Thunder Bird soared.\r\n\r\nSoared with the wild red eye of its headlight challenging the heavens\r\nthemselves to stop it, with its comet-like tail of red fire streaming\r\nout full twenty feet behind it.\r\n\r\nAt lightning speed,--fifty miles the first minute, a hundred the\r\nnext,--it leaped from its mountain platform straight up--bound for the\r\nvacant lot of space.\r\n\r\nExplosion after bright explosion tore the cloud-banks as, one by one,\r\nthe innumerable little rockets, which Pem had watched her father fitting\r\ninto their grooves in its interior--far back in that quiet\r\nlaboratory--went off.\r\n\r\nAnd with each radiant roar higher--faster--it dashed, the little Thunder\r\nBird, with never a puff of smoke to dim the spectacle--the\r\ntransplendency of its flight.\r\n\r\n"Michty! Michty!... _Magerful!_"\r\n\r\nThere was just the one skirl from Andrew, to lend it music on its upward\r\nway; he had not thought that he came to America to witness a thing like\r\nthis.\r\n\r\n"Magerful", indeed! Magical, indeed! The others were silent, swept away\r\nby the magic of it--the greater, moon-storming magic to come.\r\n\r\nOnly--only, they breathlessly asked themselves: "What next?"\r\n\r\nWell! the immediate "next" would be the return of the golden egg, the\r\ndiary, the falling fruit of the experiment, without which there was no\r\nproof of its success--of how high the fiery Bird had flown--before, its\r\nlast automatic charge expended, it sang its swan-song somewhere in\r\nspace.\r\n\r\nAt the increasing speed with which the little Thunder Bird flew--when\r\nmiles were but a moment--the record might be expected back in a few\r\nminutes.\r\n\r\nMinutes--but they seemed a moon\'s age!\r\n\r\nIt was Una--Una--who saw it first: the tiny speck of star-dust drifting\r\ndown, down among the woolly clouds--dark as if the night had been shorn\r\nand its fleece hung out to dry--alighting here and there, the little\r\nfirefly, in other words the atomy electric battery attached to the\r\nprecious record, trying so hard, with the parachute\'s aid, to find its\r\nway back to earth from the lonely height it had reached.\r\n\r\nAnother quarter of a minute, and they could trace the outline of the\r\nblack silk parachute, itself, a drifting crow with their prize in its\r\nclaws; that prize which the inventor, at least, would have given ten\r\nyears of his life to grasp--if, grasping it, he could see that the\r\nlittle pencil had duly made its record markings--the proof that his\r\nThunder Bird had "got there."\r\n\r\n"Glory halleluiah! it\'s drifting down right into our laps--into the old\r\nmountain\'s lap, rather! The wind won\'t carry it far, I bet! \'Twill land\r\nwithin quarter of a mile of us, anyhow," shrieked the professor\'s young\r\nassistant, a college boy, an athlete, who had led the quarter-mile\r\nsprint on many a hard-won field, when the racing honor of a school was\r\nat stake; and he ran as never before to get the better of the tricky\r\ngusts and seize the parachute--faster, even, than the nickum, that\r\nmysterious youth, had run, when he saved the day for the mountain team\r\nat baseball.\r\n\r\n"Hoot mon! Dinna ye let it get away frae ye into the dar-rk woods!"\r\nskirled Andrew, equally excited, and filled with awe of the raven\r\nparachute now springing, like a great, black mushroom, out of the\r\nnight--and of the firefly which had been up so high.\r\n\r\n"Oh! it is--it is drifting towards the dark spruce woods--where we\'ll\r\nhave hard work to find it."\r\n\r\nIn the wild chase after the prize, Pemrose made a good third, as she\r\nthus shouted her fear.\r\n\r\n"See--oh! see, it _is_ landing," she cried again, "c-coming\r\ndown--touching earth."\r\n\r\nYes! for one fleeting instant it did alight upon a mound, the shooting\r\nstarlet, the little electric dry cell, winking brilliantly against the\r\nbackground of somber evergreens, now dark as Erebus, that girdle old\r\nGreylock\'s crown.\r\n\r\nThen, freakish firefly, there, it was off again, the prey of the nickum\r\ngusts, before ever a hand could touch it--the black parachute rotating\r\nlike a whirligig.\r\n\r\nNever--oh, never--was such a chase for such a prize since mountain was\r\nmountain and man was man!\r\n\r\nOnce again the steely clog, the weight of the five-inch box containing\r\nthe recording apparatus, the precious log, almost dragged it to a\r\nstandstill! But the summit gusts were strong.\r\n\r\nEven the college boy began to have heart-quakes and Pemrose\r\nheart-sinkings.\r\n\r\n"Jove! What a stunt you\'re pulling off on us, you old black crow of a\r\nparachute--you booby-headed umbrella!" groaned he. "C-can\'t you stay put\r\nfor just a second? Or are you bent on leading us a dance through the\r\nwoods?"\r\n\r\nHe began to lose hope of its landing in his lap, that breezy athlete, as\r\nit made straight for the jaws of darkness now, the inky spruce-belt--the\r\nparachute coquetting with its pursuers, like a great black fan.\r\n\r\nWas--was it the wind then?\r\n\r\nSomething--something caught it up, the golden log--the first record from\r\nspace--something snatched it up and whisked it off, off into those\r\nblackamoor woods, while the feet of the foremost runner were still many\r\nyards away.\r\n\r\n"\'Twas na the wind! \'Twas mon or deil; I saw it loop out frae the\r\nboggart trees!" roared Andrew.\r\n\r\nAnd now in his skirl there was a wild ring of superstition that turned\r\ngirlish hearts quite cold.\r\n\r\n"I saw it loup out frae the dark--dar-rk woods!" he insisted hoarsely.\r\n\r\nAh! but those dim spruce woods were faintly illumined now with strange\r\nlittle dots and dashes of light--the firefly winking passionately, as if\r\nsomebody, some thief, were running with it.\r\n\r\nAnd _they_ ran, too, its rightful owners, in full cry, calling\r\nfrantically upon the robber, whether thief, or tempest, to stop.\r\n\r\nAnd the girls kept bravely up with the men. Or one of them did! For all\r\nthe spice of her chowchow name was afire in Pemrose Lorry now; and she\r\nwould have tackled the thief, single-handed, to get back her father\'s\r\nrecord.\r\n\r\nInto the core of darkness--in among the ebony spruce-boughs--the jetty,\r\nfrowning trunks, the snarling, brambly underbrush, dashed the chase, the\r\nhue and cry, not daring to turn on a flashlight and in its glare lose\r\nthe one little piloting blink ahead, which now seemed to have\r\nconsiderable odds on them, as it fled helter-skelter through the woods.\r\n\r\n"My word! this--this beats anything I ever dr-reamed of," gurgled the\r\ncollege boy. "The Thing, whatever it is, has us nicely fooled.\r\nThere--there, it has switched off the \'glim\' now--the little, telltale\r\nbattery. Now--where are we?"\r\n\r\nNo one could tell, as they floundered about, three men, and two girls,\r\nin the mysterious night-woods--without a clew--Pemrose clinging\r\ndesolately to her father now, Una to hers--while Andrew, the Church\r\nElder, muttered weird Highland curses.\r\n\r\nNobody could tell where they were, indeed, figuratively, of course,\r\nexcept--except that the experiment was a failure, so far as any proof to\r\nthe World was concerned!\r\n\r\nExcept that Toandoah\'s hopes were dashed,--if not broken!\r\n\r\nThe first record from Space was stolen,--or lost.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XX\r\n\r\nTHE SEARCH\r\n\r\n\r\nNo! She did not think the nickum had taken it,--that mysterious Jack at\r\na Pinch!\r\n\r\nThis is what the bleeding heart of Pemrose told her over and over again\r\nwithin the next twenty-four hours,--and after that, too!\r\n\r\nTrue, she had robbed him of his oars and a dance,--or had been\r\nresponsible for the trick!\r\n\r\nShe had not made her scout-knights return those ashen blades until the\r\nmorning after the dance, when they were surreptitiously deposited upon\r\nthe opposite shore of the lake in the neighborhood of the camp near the\r\ninsects\' egg-boats.\r\n\r\nAnd she had enjoyed herself hugely as the guest of the White Birch Group\r\nat the wind-up of the June carnival, while he, twice a rescuer, a friend\r\nin a pinch, was drifting helplessly out upon the dark night-waters of\r\nthe Bowl, trying to paddle with his hands, within hearing of the festive\r\ndance music, until some good Samaritan from his own shore rowed out and\r\ngave him a homeward tow.\r\n\r\nBut all this, as the girl passionately told herself, was an everyday\r\ntrick,--just a paper pellet thrown at one beside the overwhelming blow\r\nof the loss of her father\'s record.\r\n\r\nAnd he who could quote Shakespeare upon "Something rotten in the state\r\nof Denmark", amid the horrors of a zero train-wreck, who "liked his\r\nexcitement warm", had a sense of humor.\r\n\r\nTrue humor is never without a sense of proportion.\r\n\r\nIt knows where to stop.\r\n\r\nBut if the nickum was not the thief,--who then?\r\n\r\nTa-te, the tempest--otherwise the mountain gusts--had to be acquitted\r\ntoo.\r\n\r\nFor at the first dawn after the blighted experiment some thin silk rags\r\nof a raven parachute were found clinging, soot-like, to bushes in the\r\nspruce wood, together with a portion of a twisted and bent wire frame.\r\n\r\nThere was not a trace of the diary, the golden egg, the little\r\nperforated steel box, with the recording pencil and paper in it.\r\nDeprived of its wing, that could not have gone on alone,--without some\r\nhand carrying it.\r\n\r\nSo the weary and despondent searchers were forced to accept Andrew\'s\r\nassertion that "mon or deil" had robbed them; and it was plain from the\r\nsolemn shake of the "true-penny\'s" gray head in its up-to-date\r\nchauffeur\'s cap that he, himself, was disposed to lay the blame on a\r\n"deev."\r\n\r\n"It\'s plain to me, noo, that this auld Earth should bide where she\r\nbelangs," he told the two girls, "not go outside o\' her ain bit\r\natmosphere--be sending muckle messages outside it--it\'s na canny."\r\n\r\nHe even respectfully delivered himself of this opinion to the\r\ninventor--to Toandoah, with the hungry look of loss in his eye, which\r\noccasionally wrought Pemrose to the point of choking sobs and to\r\nclenching her fists at the mysterious robber.\r\n\r\nAnd he repeated it, with elaborations, did Andrew, on the second June\r\nmorning after the loss when Professor Lorry, declaring that it would\r\ntake a year to search every foot of Greylock Peak, and that he was not\r\ngoing to waste time in crying over spilt milk, went down the mountain\r\nwith his young assistant and Mr. Grosvenor, who had business in the\r\nvalley, to procure materials for another experiment--although not on the\r\nsame scale as the first--the girls being left behind with the landlady\r\nof the little mountain inn where they were staying.\r\n\r\nThe chauffeur wore a "dour" look as he saw them depart, Una\'s father\r\ndriving his own car; for the first time in all his well-trained service,\r\nthe true-penny was inclined to sulk over being told to keep an eye on\r\ntwo "daft lassies", who refused to go down to the town, because they\r\nwanted to search some more--or Pemrose did.\r\n\r\nSo he sat on a bench outside the little mountain house, thirty-six\r\nhundred feet above sea-level, where there were no visitors at this early\r\nseason, with the exception of the experimenting party, and, between\r\nwhiffs of his pipe, discoursed upon the folly of simple earth folk in\r\n"ganging beyant themselves, thinking o\' clacking wi\' the Man in the\r\nMoon, forbye"--and, in tones seemingly bewitched, of the black shape he\r\nhad seen jump forth from the woods.\r\n\r\n"Pshaw! I do believe you think that it was some bad fairy,\r\nAndrew,--fairy or mountain \'deev\', who stole the little record, and part\r\nof the parachute, too--spirited them away," said Una, with fanciful\r\nrelish, having not quite grown beyond the fairy-tale age, herself.\r\n\r\n"If that\'s so, girlie," said the mountain landlady--alas! for Andrew\r\nTrue-penny, alias Campbell, now came the evil chance over which he\r\nsulked--"if that\'s so, and you could only find the mountain\r\nwishing-stone, stand on it and wish three times--wish har-rd--maybe, the\r\ngood fairies would give you back what you\'re looking for!"\r\n\r\n"Where--where is it--the wishing-stone?" The little fixed star in Una\'s\r\neye was never so bright--a twinkling star of portent. "The wishing stone\r\non Greylock! Oh! I never knew there _was_ one."\r\n\r\n"Havers, woman! Dinna ye ken that ye hae a tongue to hold?" muttered the\r\ngrizzled chauffeur, in a stern aside.\r\n\r\nBut the motherly New Englander--who, with her old husband, could not for\r\na moment be suspected of the theft--had her heart full for two sorrowing\r\ngirls.\r\n\r\n"Why! it\'s a little over a mile from here, I guess, down the Man Killer\r\ntrail, the third flat slab you come to. I\'d go with you myself--though\r\nit\'s rough traveling, the steepest trail on the mountain--only my man is\r\nlaid up with the rheumatiz, hangin\' on to him like a puppy-dog to a\r\nroot."\r\n\r\n"Oh! we can find it for ourselves--hurrah!" shouted Una, almost\r\nsquinting with anticipation. "I\'ve never stood upon a real mountain\r\nwishing-stone before. Who--who knows what may come of it?"\r\n\r\nIn her young blood, as in Andrew\'s, was the extravagant excitement of\r\nthe whole experiment,--this first step in the ladder of demonstration\r\nwhich was by and by to reach the moon--lending to all an unearthly\r\ntouch.\r\n\r\n"The--the Man Killer trail! Why! that\'s _one_ place where we\r\nhaven\'t searched--yet!" A moping Pemrose suddenly awoke.\r\n\r\nTo her, who had grown up amid the mathematical realities of an\r\ninventor\'s laboratory, who had "plugged" so hard at her elementary\r\nphysics that she might be able to grasp the first principles of her\r\nfather\'s work, some day--some day to work with him,--to her, the little\r\ngirl-mechanic, a wishing stone was no golden magnet.\r\n\r\nBut the very fact that there was one spot, not so far from the summit,\r\neither--wildest spot on the mountain though it be--still unexplored, was\r\nenough to draw her restless feet anywhere, against any deadlock of\r\ndifficulty.\r\n\r\n"Ha! The Man Killer trail!" she whooped again. "Oh-h! we could easily\r\nfind it; we saw a sign directing to it, as we came up the mountain."\r\n\r\n"It\'s na a trail; it\'s just a hotch-potch o\' rocks--some sharp as\r\nstickit teeth!" groaned Andrew, who saw his own doom fixed, in vain\r\nprotesting.\r\n\r\nHe felt rather like a man who had been left behind to hold a wolf by the\r\nears when, in the teeth of every remonstrance he could offer, he found\r\nhimself, a little later, starting out in the rear of two adventurous\r\ngirls, in quest of that third slab of a wishing stone--and the\r\nbreath-racking Man Killer trail.\r\n\r\nBut those girls were, to some degree, seasoned climbers,\r\nboth,--sure-footed as venturesome!\r\n\r\nThrough the dim limelight of fringing pine woods, across oozing\r\nmud-beds, soft from spring rains and freshets, over a babbling brook\r\nspanned by an elastic bridge formed of the interlacing roots of giant\r\ntrees--where Una found much delight in bouncing up and down in\r\nanticipation of the magic stone--they stubbornly held their way, and\r\ncame at last to the chaos of rocks crowding a steep gorge which marked\r\nthe head of the lonely Killer trail.\r\n\r\n"Noo--I gang first!" said Andrew--a true-penny still, though the stamp\r\nwas reversed. "My word!" he added sourly, "this is na trail--juist a\r\nscratch on the mountainside--an\' the muckle rocks they\'re a flail for\r\nbeating the breath out of a puir body."\r\n\r\n"What--what do I care if they shouldn\'t leave me a pinch if only I could\r\nfind something--even a few more rags of the parachute!" gasped Pemrose,\r\nin stifled tones of passion, as she climbed, hurry-skurry, over a piled\r\ncapsheaf of bowlders.\r\n\r\nIndeed, that battling breath was at a low ebb in all three when,\r\nfollowing the tangled skein of a sort of trail which the feet of daring\r\nclimbers had beaten, here and there, amid the rocks, they reached in due\r\ntime the third slab which, like the invisible running water in Tory\r\nCave, was supposed to bring "piping times" of luck to whoever should\r\nbrave the difficulties of the wild pass, to stand on it and wish.\r\n\r\n"Oh--oh! there it is, at last," cried Una, her hand to her breathless\r\nside, "a nice \'squatty\' slab--almost as smooth as glass--an\' shaped like\r\na mud-turtle. I wonder if there is a fairy underneath it--lurking under\r\nthe rim. Now--now for the wishing cap!"\r\n\r\nBut before she could don Fortunatus\' cap by breaking a wee branch from a\r\ndwarf cedar growing amid the crags and wreathing it, like a green\r\ncottage bonnet, around her head, she slipped upon the wet moss girdling\r\nthe stone where a tiny spring bubbled, and almost pitched headlong down\r\nthe trail, at this point particularly steep.\r\n\r\n"Easy there, lassie! Ye dinna want to mak\' o\' that auld flat slab a\r\ntombstone, eh?" murmured Andrew, laying a great hand upon her shoulder,\r\nwith a little smack of laughter upon his long, smooth-shaven upper lip.\r\n\r\nBut immediately he winced as if his own words hurt him, and\r\nPemrose--herself in an aching mood--knew what he was thinking of, that\r\ngrizzled chauffeur.\r\n\r\nUna, her balance recovered, jumped upon the stone.\r\n\r\nSurely, no wishing-cap ever before was so bonnie, so becoming as the\r\nfine, emerald needles of the little cedar branch gripped together under\r\nthe dimpled chin, fringing the sweet, saucy, girlish face, the star in\r\nthe bright dark eye so intently fixed.\r\n\r\nPem smiled; in the present crisis of her young life she didn\'t care if\r\nher friend\'s eyelashes were longer than hers by a whole ell. And Andrew\r\nsighed because of that one "sair memory" which had oppressed him on the\r\nPinnacle.\r\n\r\nThe serio-comic passion in the green-framed face, the fervor in the one\r\nlittle clenched fist drooping at Una\'s side, might well have won over\r\nall the good fairy-hosts that ever landed in the wake of the Pilgrims,\r\nand set them to scouring Greylock for the missing record from on high.\r\n\r\n"Now then! Pemrose, it\'s up to you! Turn your backbone into a wishbone."\r\n\r\nThe wreathed figure stepped from the pedestal,--a laughing June spot\r\nagainst the wintry grimness of the Man Killer trail.\r\n\r\nObligingly the inventor\'s daughter stepped up, closing her eyes\r\nhalf-humorously, doubling the drooping hands at her panting sides.\r\n\r\nBut, as suddenly, the eyelids were flung up, like shutters from the blue\r\nof day. The uncurling fists were outflung passionately.\r\n\r\n"I can\'t! I _can\'t_!" cried Pemrose Lorry, choking upon her own\r\nwishbone. "I--I\'m not in the humor for it--for foolery! I must go\r\non--right on--and search! This--this is the shortest trail down the\r\nmountain, if it\'s the roughest--I know that!" She looked desperately at\r\nold Andrew. "If any mean thief--anybody--stole that record, there could\r\nbe only one--one motive for it, my father-r says--curiosity; to be the\r\nfir-rst to see that very first record man has ever got from so high\r\nup--high up in the earth\'s thin atmosphere, where the air ends--and\r\nspace begins!"\r\n\r\nShe seemed to have that whole zero void in her heart now, its light,\r\nstifling gases in her distended throat--Toandoah\'s little pal--as she\r\nlooked distractedly down the gorge.\r\n\r\n"Oh! it\'s pos-si-ble--just barely possible, that after he had satisfied\r\nhis cur-ios-ity--or mischief--or whatever it was--he might have thrown\r\naway the little steel box, dropped it somewhere on the trail," she\r\npanted extravagantly. "Or--or we might even come on some more rags of\r\nthe parachute and track him--track him to a camp! My father-r--"\r\n\r\nIt was the passionate break on that word, even more than the spice in\r\nthe blue eyes, that went straight to the shadowed spot in Andrew\'s heart\r\nand found the little sprig of memorial heather, hidden there, the\r\nmountain heather, the tiny, pinkish blossoms, with the faint, wild tang,\r\nwhich he plucked whenever he went home to Scotland from a small grave in\r\na hillside "kirkyard" on whose granite marker was printed: "Margery\r\nCampbell, aged fifteen!"\r\n\r\nIt had been as much the restlessness of bereavement as a desire to\r\nbetter their fortunes which had brought his wife and him to the New\r\nWorld, for she had been their only child, with the exception of one son,\r\nold enough to be in the American Army.\r\n\r\nThe fragrance of that imaginary heather-bloom tucked away in the\r\nimpassive chauffeur\'s breast was occasionally apparent in a furtive\r\nglance thrown skyward, or in a momentary glisten of mist in the gray\r\nshell of the mechanical eye.\r\n\r\nIt had made the whole family of his employers very sympathetic towards\r\nAndrew, as to a friend. And now a whiff of that heather memory stood\r\nPemrose in good stead.\r\n\r\n"I reckon if leetle Margery were livin\', she\'d feel in the verra same\r\nway gin anny misfortune happed to me," he told himself.\r\n\r\n"Aw, weel, lassie!" Thus he spoke aloud. "Since ye\'re set on gaeing on a\r\nwee bit further, we\'ll gang; but dinna get yer hopes stickit on finding\r\nonything!"\r\n\r\n"Andrew--Andrew, himself, has found something! Look--look at him!"\r\n\r\nIt was barely twenty minutes later that the wildly startled cry burst\r\nfrom Una as the trio struggled on--on down the fitful path, between the\r\nrocky jaws of the Man Killer, where beetling crags loomed, fang-like, on\r\neither side of them and, here and there some swollen rill made of a\r\ngreen moss-bank a slimy mud-bed.\r\n\r\n"He--he\'s hearing things, if he isn\'t seeing them. Oh, look!... Look at\r\nhim!"\r\n\r\nUna\'s hand was at her jumping heart--pressing hard as if to hold it in\r\nher body--as she beheld the tall figure of the chauffeur, motionless as\r\narrested mechanism, upon the trail, ahead.\r\n\r\n"I heerd a--skirl." Andrew\'s face was stony as that of the Old Man of\r\nGreylock--a featured rock--as he turned it upon the breathless girls.\r\n\r\n"A skirl! A cry!" he repeated hoarsely. "\'Twas na the yap of an animal,\r\neither! Somebody--somebody\'s yawping for help out here in this awfu\'\r\nspot! Dinna ye hear it, children?"\r\n\r\nThey did. Their flesh began to creep.\r\n\r\nUp, upward, struggling between great rocks, it climbed, that cry, where\r\nthe stony teeth of the Man Killer bit the trail right in two.\r\n\r\n"Help--h-help!" it pleaded. "Oh--help!" Then feebly, but fierily:\r\n"_Oh-h!_ confound it--_help_, I say!"\r\n\r\nThat was the moment when Pemrose Lorry shook as if the old Man Killer\r\nwere devouring her.\r\n\r\nWas there--could there be something familiar, half-familiar, about the\r\nfaint, volcanic shout: some accent she seemed to have heard before? And\r\nyet--and yet, not quite that, either!\r\n\r\n"My word! Some puir body\'s hur-rted bad--ba-ad--like a toad under a\r\nharrow," grunted Andrew, and scrambled hastily on over a gray barrier of\r\nrocks,--the girls following.\r\n\r\nOnce again it limped painfully up to them, the cry, like a visible,\r\nbroken thing. "Help--h-help, I say!" Then, feebly, in rock-bitten echo:\r\n"_Help!_"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXI\r\n\r\nTHE MAN KILLER\r\n\r\n\r\n"We must lift him out of the mud! Oh-h! even if it hurts\r\nhim--terribly--we\'ll have to lift him to a dry spot."\r\n\r\nIt was Pemrose Lorry who spoke. Together with her Camp Fire sisters she\r\nhad taken some training in first aid. And one agonizing accident which\r\nshe had been told how to deal with was the case of a knee-cap displaced\r\nor broken.\r\n\r\nThere almost seemed to be a broken head on her own young shoulders\r\nthrough which wild, streaky lights and shadows came stealing, like\r\nmoonlight through cracked shutters whose chinks are not wide enough to\r\nreveal clearly any object in a room.\r\n\r\nIt was the same breathlessly unreal feeling--the same dim moonlit\r\ngroping, that she had felt as she sat on the cliff-brow with Stud, when\r\nhe talked of the nickum and his father--and called the latter a "queer\r\nfish!"\r\n\r\nFor one thing she knew at a glance! She had seen the injured man, who\r\nlay calling for help in a miry spot of the Man Killer trail, before.\r\nThree times before, said lightning perception!\r\n\r\nAnd it came upon her now, as emergency\'s stiff breeze blew the cobwebs\r\nfrom her brain, the occasion of the second time, sandwiched in between\r\nthat zero day when he had dragged her up a snow-bank, the youth who\r\nsaved her addressing him as Dad, and the smiling June one when he lay on\r\na fernbed before his lake-shore camp, grumpily fishing.\r\n\r\n"I--I saw him: I know I saw him--again--crossing the street outside\r\nUna\'s home on the day when the last installment of the Will was read,"\r\nshe realized, her hands coming together convulsively at the thought of\r\nthe blighting codicil which hung up the fortunes of the moon-going\r\nThunder Bird for twelve long years.\r\n\r\n"He--he was wearing the same gray cap!" was the next cleaving flash of\r\nmemory.\r\n\r\nHe was not really wearing it now. It bobbed in the rill beside him.\r\n\r\nAs one eye turned feverishly towards it, the third thunder clap of\r\nperception came in the staggering sense of how like he was to Una.\r\n\r\nShe might have been his daughter--Una--with that little fixed star of\r\nfeeling set like a shining pebble now in her right, fascinated eye,\r\nreflected, exaggerated in the glazed cast of pain in the stone-gray eye\r\nof the man beneath her, whose climber\'s suit of homespun was daubed with\r\nmountain mud,--whose tweed cap was the brooklet\'s toy.\r\n\r\nHe had been trying to scoop up water in it.\r\n\r\nAnd that brought Pemrose Lorry, Camp Fire Girl, to herself again, within\r\nquarter of a minute of her first laying eyes on him.\r\n\r\nFor there is one gallant anchor that will hold in any pinch,--when\r\nthought is shattered and speculation the maddest blur: the Camp Fire\r\nlaw: Give Service!\r\n\r\nShe unhooked her little camper\'s cup from where it hung at her green\r\nbelt, and offered him a drink.\r\n\r\nShe dipped her handkerchief in the trickle of water and wiped the cold\r\ndrops of faintness and agony from his forehead.\r\n\r\nAnd then, when he had confided to Andrew, who knelt beside him, that he\r\nhad slipped upon the wet, slimy moss beside the rill, as he ascended the\r\ntrail, and broken his knee-cap by striking heavily against a confronting\r\nrock, she said that they must lift him to a dry spot.\r\n\r\n"That\'s--r-right. She knows what to--do. Ouch! a--a knee-cap slipped, or\r\nbroken--is--the deuce of a rack," groaned the victim, as they proceeded\r\nto raise him, the girls supporting, each, a knickerbockered leg, Pemrose\r\nthe injured one, while Andrew took the main weight of the writhing body,\r\nuntil they laid it upon some dry moss.\r\n\r\nYes! and she knew further what to do, that Camp Fire Girl who wore the\r\nFire Maker\'s bracelet upon her wrist, for plucking off her soft, green\r\nsweater she rolled it into a wad and placed it under the hollow of the\r\ninjured knee, so flexing it, supporting it, while Una doubled hers into\r\na pillow for his head,--Una who moved as if in a fantastic dream.\r\n\r\nAnd then arose the question as to the next move; how to go about\r\nobtaining further help.\r\n\r\n"We might--might make a stretcher with poles, saplings, with our\r\nsweaters, your coat, Andrew, and--and carry him down to the nearest\r\nfarmhouse," Pem suggested.\r\n\r\n"No-o thank--you!" The injured man shifted his shoulders ever so\r\nslightly upon one elbow and looked at her; the tiniest laugh shot the\r\nrapids of pain in his eye. "My son said you had a whole lot of\r\n\'pep\'--same that\'s in your inventor-father, I suppose, who wants to\r\nbombard the moon!... My son who\'s play-ing baseball now down on the\r\nGreylock field--mountain\'s foot!" The sufferer here appealed to Andrew.\r\n"If you could--only--get him up here, I\'d be all right! There\'s an auto\r\nat the nearest farmhouse--maybe they\'d let you take it. Any one--any one\r\ncan point out \'Starry\'"--in a lame rush of pride--"player who made that\r\nhome run--"\r\n\r\n"Hadna I better bid him bring a doctor along too--a stretcher as weel?"\r\nput in the Scotchman dryly.\r\n\r\nThe victim nodded, looking at the other\'s cap.\r\n\r\n"You\'re a chauffeur," he pleaded; "you\'ll drive fast?"\r\n\r\n"Aye, fegs! Fast as God and gasoline will let me!" answered Andrew\r\ndevoutly, with an anxious glance at the two girls.\r\n\r\nAs his tall, spare figure scrambled on down the trail, the sufferer\r\nraised his eyes to Pemrose.\r\n\r\n"If--if you could t-twist my knapsack round from under me," he murmured;\r\n"there\'s a restorative in it--a few drops of ammonia--I\'m faint!"\r\n\r\nShe did so--and turned for the moment as faint as he was.\r\n\r\nThe whole trail swam, grew black--black as the wisp of thin, ebony silk,\r\nparachute silk, with a fraction of a bent wire frame peeping out from\r\none corner of that roomy knapsack.\r\n\r\n"Well! are you going to desert me now-ow?... Now that the thief is so-o\r\nnice-ly bagged!"\r\n\r\nThe man looked up at her, some dash of whimsical fire in him mastering\r\nweakness; at the girl kneeling, bolt upright, with the black rag between\r\nher hands, and the twisted scrap of frame,--the frame which had drifted\r\ndown two hundred miles.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: The man looked up at her, some dash of whimsical fire\r\nmastering weakness. Page 268.]\r\n\r\n"Ar-re you--going--to desert me now?"\r\n\r\nAgain the anchor held; the noble anchor: Give Service: it was as if a\r\nvoice outside of her numbed self spoke the words.\r\n\r\nThe raven rags dropped from between her fingers,--their reflection from\r\nher face.\r\n\r\nSteadily enough, she found the little vial lying amid the top layer in\r\nthat pigskin knapsack, shook a few drops from it, into the thimble-like\r\nglass accompanying, mixed them with water, held them to his lips.\r\n\r\nAt the same time she dipped her handkerchief again and passed it over\r\nhis forehead.\r\n\r\n"Ha! Pity as well as \'pep\' in you, eh? Good!" The sufferer actually\r\nwinked one eye as the stimulant trickled down. "Well! my dear, the\r\nlittle recording apparatus is in that knapsack too; I--I make you a\r\npresent of it--and of the codicil to my brother\'s will, as well.... You\r\nwon\'t have to wait twelve years."\r\n\r\nThen, indeed, the trail seemed to double up, to wind itself around Pem\'s\r\nbrain, rocks and all,--only every rock was gold-edged, a nugget.\r\n\r\nHer eyes stared straight before her,--blue as the June violet that\r\ncaught a drop from the spring near.\r\n\r\n"Who--who are you?" screamed Una, forgetting that she was speaking to a\r\nbroken man.\r\n\r\n"How about my being your uncle, Treffrey Graham, my dear, who--who was\r\nsuch a mad fellow--in--youth; s-such an oddity? Oh-h! you\'ve heard of\r\nhim--have--you?"\r\n\r\nThe whimsical light in the pain-reddened eyes burned to mockery now. It\r\nshowed the hippogriff, the "hot tamale", still there. Evidently\r\neccentricity wasn\'t all dead.\r\n\r\n"Humph! By Jove! I\'m having some fun out of my broken knee, after\r\nall--electrifying you girls," gurgled the still racked voice. "Dramatic\r\nsetting for a denouement, too, the old Man Killer trail!"\r\n\r\n"But why--oh! why-y did you do it?" Pem snatched up the rag of parachute\r\nagain, her eyes going wildly from the soot-like scrap of silk to a\r\nwonderful, antique ring upon the little finger of the pale hand which\r\ntwitched so strangely below her.\r\n\r\n"What! S-steal the little record, you mean!" The bushy eyebrows were\r\ntwitching, too. "Well! maybe I want-ed to make sure, for myself, that\r\nthe rocket really had gone higher than anything earthly ever flew yet,\r\nbefore--before I resigned a fortune to it."\r\n\r\nThat was the moment when the nuggets all turned to rocks again for\r\nPemrose. He saw the change in her face.\r\n\r\n"Oh! I don\'t mean anything der-og-a-tory to your father, my dear"--pain\r\nsnatched at the man\'s breath--"or to his invention, either. I knew him\r\nbefore you did. \'Why did I do it?\' Curiosity--eccentricity, I\r\nsuppose--anything you like to call it! I always was such a \'terror\'--a\r\nregular zany, my college friends used to call me."\r\n\r\nA flash from those prankful days, erratic as a shooting star, shot the\r\nglaze in the sufferer\'s eye.\r\n\r\n"And, then--and then, I really am interested in everything connected\r\nwith the conquest of the air--of space--myself," the hampered speaker\r\nwent on. "I\'ve done a little flying, out West,--my son, too! I found out\r\nwhen the experiments with your father\'s in-vention--"\r\n\r\n"We call it the Thunder Bird," put in Una, as pain again called for a\r\nbreak.\r\n\r\n"Ha! Good name for it! Piles up the moon-going romance, eh? Well-ll,"\r\nwearily, "having found out the par-ti-cu-lar night on which the lit-tle\r\nmodel rocket was to fly, I came up the mountain to a small camp that my\r\nson and I have ne-ar the summit--east side of Greylock. I was standing\r\non the edge of the spruce woods, watching the whole performance.\r\nThen--then, when the parachute dragging the little recording apparatus\r\nblew towards me in the darkness, almost into my hand, I--why! I snatched\r\nit up and ran with it. Why? Oh, because I suppose the boy has never died\r\nin me: the boy that\'s \'part pirate, part pig!\'" with a grating chuckle.\r\n\r\nIncredible as it seemed, the low laughter, the treacherous tinkle, was\r\nechoed by girlish lips as that renascent urchin momentarily swaggered in\r\nthe glaze of the suffering eye!\r\n\r\n"And then--and then something told me--an aberration, I suppose, as my\r\nimpulses usually are--that I had some sort of r-right to see the very\r\nfirst record man had ever got of that upper air, of Space, if--if I was\r\ngo-ing to turn over a couple of hundred thousand dollars, for the\r\npursuit of the--sov-er-eign invention."\r\n\r\n"I--I can\'t believe it," murmured Pem into the stony teeth of the Man\r\nKiller.\r\n\r\n"I meant to return the record next morning, but I was a-fraid your\r\nfather might shoot me," to Pemrose. "Then, later, I heard he had gone\r\ndown the mountain--that was yesterday and a mistake--I went-down, too,\r\nto beard him. A--a little more water, please! I could not climb again\r\nuntil to-day; I took the Man Killer trail, as being the shortest.\r\nAnd--here I am!" grimly.\r\n\r\n"Incidentally, I gave our family lawyer a shock, little niece," he went\r\non, as Una, plucking up courage, adjusted her sweater under his head;\r\nshe began to like this uncle with the pebble-like cast in his stone-gray\r\neye, she began to think that girls--Camp Fire Girls, especially, with\r\ntheir love of the fanciful--might have more patience with him than\r\nothers had had.\r\n\r\n"Yes! you bet I gave old Cartwright the staggers!" He laughed down the\r\ntwinge of agony in his voice. "Called him up on the long distance\r\ntelephone, told him I was Treffrey Graham back; that I had been in the\r\nEast nearly six months, with my son; that I came pretty near disclosing\r\nmyself on the--on the day when the third installment of my brother\'s\r\nwill was read--actually walked up to the door of my sister\'s house, then\r\nshied off, because ... Oh, gosh! this knee."\r\n\r\nThe voice broke; it had really become a feverish babble of excitement\r\nnow--pain\'s wild excitement.\r\n\r\n"Well! What was I saying--yes! I didn\'t ring the bell because I hadn\'t\r\nmade up my mind whether I wanted to claim any share of my brother\'s\r\nfortune, or not; you see he hadn\'t been very fair to me in youth--taking\r\naway my sweetheart. None of my family had--for--that--matter! I didn\'t\r\nknow whether I wanted to meet them again. Although I liked the look of\r\nmy little niece; I had seen her, at a distance, with her mother. And\r\nthen, we didn\'t need the money, my boy and I! Had enough of our own;\r\nTreffrey Graham may be a terror, but he isn\'t a failure--financially!"\r\n\r\nNo--not by a long shot! said the flame of the pigeon-blood ruby upon the\r\npale little finger, now curling significantly in air,--the gem whose\r\nfire in this wild spot seemed as erratic as his own, seeing that none\r\nbut a zany would have worn it here.\r\n\r\n"So--so I told old Cartwright this morning that I stepped out of that\r\nstrung-out will," a smile curled the pallid lips now; "that I authorized\r\nhim to make preparations, at once, for the turning over of the remainder\r\nof my brother\'s wealth, in his name and mine, to the University of our\r\nnative city, to be used for the furtherance of Professor Lorry\'s\r\nwon-der-ful invention for r-reaching in-de-finite heights."\r\n\r\n"My father!... Oh! my fa-ther!" It was a wild little cry to which the\r\nMan Killer rang now, as the head of Pemrose Lorry went down upon her\r\nknees.\r\n\r\n"Yes, I\'m glad his way is clear--though, I suppose, only a man \'whose\r\nhead grew under his arm\' would have managed the thing as I have done."\r\nThe sufferer winked through the veil of pain. "Now! my son is different.\r\nHe\'s a dare-devil too--but he knows where to stop. You couldn\'t have\r\nbribed him to steal that record--though somebody played a trick on him\r\nthe other night--robbed him of his oars and a dance--just when he had\r\n\'taken the bit between his teeth\', too; said he was tired of this\r\ncamouflage business, and he was going--going whether I liked it, or\r\nnot!"\r\n\r\n"_Ah-h!_" That was the moment when Pem\'s shoulders trembled like\r\nthe needles upon the little green cedar sapling that grew by the rill:\r\nall because the Wise Woman in her was shaking the Elf, bidding her go to\r\nsleep for ever--which the Elf, very properly, refused to do, for, after\r\nall, undiluted wisdom would be a colorless cloak for any young back.\r\n\r\n"Well! he--he wouldn\'t speak to us when we just wanted to thank him for\r\nsaving us in that terrible train-accident," put in Una defensively.\r\n\r\n"Ha! That was my fault, little niece. I made him promise, on coming\r\nEast, that he wouldn\'t go near any of his relatives, risk being\r\nidentified by them, until I had decided what to do about the legacy--and\r\nwhether I was going to make myself known to them, or not. Now-ow, I hope\r\nyou\'ll be friends. He\'s your own cousin--Treff junior."\r\n\r\nAnd so Jack at a Pinch at last came into his own in the shape of a name!\r\n\r\n"Yes, called after me, he is! Goodness! don\'t I wish he\'d hurry up and\r\nget here, now--with the doctor?"\r\n\r\nIt was a hollow groan. Pain was, at length, getting the better of that\r\ncapricious spirit.\r\n\r\n"Can\'t--can\'t I do--anything--to make you more comfortable?" Pemrose\r\nasked.\r\n\r\nThen suddenly remembering that it was he who was making the Thunder\r\nBird\'s fortune, as impulsively as the little cedar tree leaned to the\r\nswollen rill, she bent and kissed the cold sweat of pain from his\r\nforehead.\r\n\r\n"That--that\'s worth coming East for," murmured the man, his own eyes\r\ngrowing wet. "Little niece! don\'t you want to--follow--suit? I suppose,\r\na year from now, your Thunder Bird will fly."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXII\r\n\r\nA JUNE WOMAN\r\n\r\n\r\n"I feel as if I was in the pictures!"\r\n\r\n"Oh! I feel as if I was in the pictures."\r\n\r\nIt was the wild thought in each girl\'s breast, as minutes went on.\r\n\r\nThe loneliness of the mountain pass, nearly three thousand feet above\r\nsea-level, the rigors of the wind sweeping up it, chill now, June not\r\nyet being ten days old, the frowning crags, the remote heads of other\r\ntall mountains peeping over their shoulders, the two green dots of girls\r\non either side of a broken man, they took it all in, to the full, most\r\ndramatically too--and felt as if they were in the pictures.\r\n\r\nA surpassing moving picture reel, more telling than any they had ever\r\nwitnessed, in which--oh, queer double-headed feeling--they were both\r\nactors and spectators!\r\n\r\nBut pain--pain left no atmosphere of unreality about it for the\r\nsuffering man, for the sufferer who monopolized both their soft\r\nsweaters, while they shivered convulsively, until if it came to a beauty\r\ncontest between the two now, the old Man Killer, awarding the palm,\r\nwould not have made it dependent on a mere matter of eyelashes, but on\r\nwhich little nose was the least blue bitten.\r\n\r\nPain released something in that sufferer too,--a fire that was not all\r\nwild-fire! For suddenly he dragged Una\'s green sweater-roll from under\r\nhis head and thrust it towards her with an imperious: "Put it on,\r\nchild!"\r\n\r\n"I shan\'t!" replied that child of luxury, as arbitrarily, slipping it\r\nback under the pallid cheek, above which the stand of agony in the stony\r\neye told that the man was suffering almost to a point of delirium now.\r\n\r\n"Who ever thought Una would be such a brick?" Pem nibbled the words\r\nbetween her chattering teeth. "She\'s shivering--yes! and frightened and\r\ntrying to cry--but the brick in her won\'t allow it!"\r\n\r\nThere was no doubt that the uncle of her blood was a brick, too, for he\r\nfought the groans reverberating behind his clenched teeth, like a bee in\r\na bottle, only breaking out now and again in a yearning prayer for the\r\ncoming of his son.\r\n\r\n"If he were only here--here!" he moaned; it was evident that the\r\nyouthful daredevil who liked excitement, but "knew where to stop", was a\r\ntower of strength to the less balanced father.\r\n\r\nPem was longing uncontrollably for his appearance, also--for the rower\r\nwhom she had robbed of his oars, while the sufferer seemed to find his\r\nonly relief in talking about him.\r\n\r\n"My son and I have been in bad scrapes before among--mountains," he\r\npanted, feverishly. "Once high up in the Canadian Rockies, we missed our\r\nguide who had gone back for provisions. Bad plight then, but the boy\r\ndidn\'t \'cave\'! He was only fifteen when he shot his bear in Arizona. He\r\nloves the West. But the East\'s in his blood. Just went wild over these\r\nBerkshire Hills, this spring, over his first sight of mayflowers! They\r\nseemed more of a treasure than the fortune he wanted to part with.\r\n_Hiff-f!_"\r\n\r\nBefore the eyes of both girls rose the clamor of color "blooming round"\r\nin old Tory Cave--the armful of pass\xc3\xab blossoms flung down at the\r\n"rattler" scare.\r\n\r\n"Yes--his Mother Earth has been good to him," muttered the whimsical\r\nvoice. "Very good! Yet--yet such are earth-sons that he\'d turn his back\r\non her to-morrow--go off on a wild-goose chase after some other\r\nworld--even a dead one--if only that moon-storming Thunder--Bird--"\r\n\r\n"What! You don\'t mean to say--oh! did he write to my father about\r\nit--write to my father and sign himself \'T. S.\'?" broke in Pemrose,\r\nglancing back along the trail which she had traveled these past few\r\nmonths and finding it stranger, more baffling than the Man Killer\'s.\r\n\r\n"May--may--have done so," came the answer, with a faint chuckle. "I\r\nasked him when pressed for a name to give his mother\'s--his middle\r\none--Selkirk. But he a lunar can-di-date! Not if I know it! With me, the\r\nmoon may have the money--but not the boy!"\r\n\r\n"The moon may have the money!" Pemrose Lorry glanced at the mud-stained\r\nknapsack lying by the sufferer,--the knapsack tucked away in which was\r\nthe golden egg, the precious record; she would not unearth it and glance\r\nat it, because the second look, at least, belonged to her father.\r\n\r\nThis mature madcap upon the ground, this queer, practical joker,\r\nchastened now, if never before, had played on him a cruel prank, but, at\r\nleast, he was not the fool who loved money for its own sake.\r\n\r\n"If--only--I could do anything for him!" yearned the girl passionately.\r\n"Oh! I\'d want father--father--to feel that I did ev-ery-thing for him."\r\n\r\nAnd, as once before in a watery pinch, the thought of Toandoah\'s honor,\r\nToandoah\'s debt to this trapped March hare, was the vital breath of\r\ninspiration.\r\n\r\n"Have--have you any matches?"\r\n\r\nSuddenly she bent to the ashen ear.\r\n\r\n"In my br-reast pocket, yes." It was a feebly appreciative flicker.\r\n\r\n"A fire! I--I a Camp Fire Girl--and not to think of it sooner! Una! Una!\r\nGet busy! Gather wood, quickly--quickly--all-ll the dry wood you can!"\r\n\r\nAnd the friendly little cedar gave of its one brown arm, the spruce\r\nchit, the birch stripling, the pine urchin--all the hop-o\'-my-thumb\r\ntimber that flourished in this wild pass--contributed of the dead limbs\r\ntorn from them by last winter\'s blasts, to burn up the chill in the old\r\nMan Killer\'s heart.\r\n\r\nUna\'s little nose, piquantly tiptilted, warmed from a fashionable\r\norchid-color to a cheery rose pink, with the excitement, the pressing\r\nadventure of trailing firewood among the rocks and dragging it captive\r\nto the new-born blaze which Pem was fanning with her breath and with the\r\nbreezy bellows of her short green skirt.\r\n\r\nAs for the sufferer, hope stirred anew in him as he turned his head\r\ntowards the flaming pennons of good cheer, while the fire, prospering\r\ngayly, feathered its nest with scarlet down.\r\n\r\nHe saw, too, that the fire-witch was preparing something in that red\r\nnest for him.\r\n\r\nRaking out the first glowing embers, she filled her little aluminum cup\r\nat the rill and set it among them; when it steamed she shook into it a\r\nfew drops from the little vial--the aromatic spirits of ammonia--and\r\nheld it to his lips.\r\n\r\n"It\'s the best I can do," she murmured, but her eyes stretched that best\r\ninto an indefinite blue of longing to capture the pain even for a short\r\ntime and bear it for him--for him who was making the Thunder Bird\'s\r\nfortune.\r\n\r\nAs before, the stimulant set the racked heart to sending strength\r\nthrough the freezing veins--and with it a touch of the whimsicality\r\nwhich Death alone could quench.\r\n\r\n"Little girl!" Treffrey Graham\'s eye winked upon a mote of fun that\r\nsoftened to a mist. "Your fa-ther\'s invention is the gr-reatest thing\r\nyet; it\'s a Success--I know that from the one glimpse I had at the\r\nrecord--" Pemrose winced--"but--but you may tell him from me that I\r\ndoubt if, after all, his Thunder Bird is the best thing he\'s turned\r\nout."\r\n\r\n"Some-somebody coming! Oh-h, some-body--coming!" cried Una, at that\r\nmoment, so that the man started up, with a heyday exclamation--and\r\ntumbled back, a wreck of groans.\r\n\r\nFor it was not his son. Neither was it the long-coated figure of the\r\nchauffeur, at sight of which each girl would have passionately hugged\r\nherself--if not him.\r\n\r\nBut it was a messenger whom Andrew had sent.\r\n\r\nAnd at sight of her, of the fresh mountain rose in her cheeks, with its\r\nheart of American gold, the climbing flash in her hazel eye, Una just\r\ntumbled into sobs, herself, that little fixed star in her eye blazing\r\npathetic welcome, for this was her first taste of emergency\'s pinch,\r\nemergency\'s call for sacrifice.\r\n\r\n"Are you--oh! are you come to stay with us--us?" she cried, running\r\nforward with childish confidence.\r\n\r\n"That I be--girlie!" responded the mountain woman, throwing a warm arm\r\naround her. "The man that borrowed our little aut\'mobile truck and set\r\noff in it at a score down the mountain, the man with a queer blowpipe at\r\nthe roots of his tongue, he told me that he had left two lassies up here\r\non the lonely trail, with a badly hurt man. \'Woman!\' says he, kind o\'\r\nfierce-like, \'if they were yer own bit lassies, ye\'d scorch the rocks,\r\nclimbing to \'em.\' \'Man!\' says I," the Greylock woman paused,\r\nhalf-laughingly, to catch her breath, "\'I never laid eyes on them, or on\r\nthe broken-kneed man, either, but I\'ll warm the way, just the same.\'\r\nBut, mercy! it took me most an hour to get here--though only a mile of\r\nclimbing--the old Man Killer is--so-o--fierce."\r\n\r\nHer eye, at that, went to the fire, now brilliantly painting the trail,\r\nto the pillowed figure upon the moss, with the sweater-roll in the\r\nhollow of the injured knee.\r\n\r\n"But, land sakes! I needn\'t ha\' been in such a mad hurry getting here,\r\nafter all--giving my skin to make ear-laps for the old Man Killer!" she\r\ncried, holding up two raw palms, flayed by indiscriminate climbing.\r\n"For, my senses! they\'re no stray lambs o\' tenderfoot--those \'twa bit\r\nlassies\'!" mimicking Andrew\'s blowpipe. "They know how to take care of\r\nthemselves in a pinch--and of somebody else, too!... And--and, see here,\r\nwhat I\'ve brought you, honey, rolled in the blanket for _him_!"\r\n\r\n"Cake--choc\'late cake! C-coffee!" Una gasped feebly, confronted by the\r\nghost of her everyday life.\r\n\r\nShe grasped the reality, though, of that normal life, somewhere waiting\r\nfor her, with the first bite into the brown-eyed cake, while her sweater\r\nwas restored to her thinly clad shoulders as the mountain woman spread\r\nher blanket over the injured man and tucked it under him for a pillow.\r\n\r\n"You--you\'re a \'trump,\' little niece--letting me have it for-r so long,"\r\nhe said wistfully.\r\n\r\nAnd Una shyly forbore to answer.\r\n\r\nOccasionally it is easier to land gracefully after a long jump than a\r\nshort one in the case of an awkward gulf to be crossed! She saw that her\r\nfriend Pemrose, no relation at all to this extraordinary uncle, could\r\ncare for him and welcome him without embarrassment, while, with every\r\ndoubtful glance in his direction, she felt, still, as if she did not\r\nquite know whether she was on her head or her heels.\r\n\r\nShe crept, for reassurance, very close to the mountain woman, the\r\ntypical June woman, with the normal rose in her cheeks, and the golden\r\nbuttercup for a heart, as she picnicked, subdued, by the trail fire.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t think--oh! I don\'t believe I ever met anybody q-quite like you\r\nbefore. But I\'m so glad you\'re in the world!" she murmured gratefully.\r\n\r\n"And I just wish you could come into _my_ world often, girlie," was\r\nthe cuddling answer, "for it\'s lonely as old Sarum here on the\r\nmountainside--though where old Sarum is I don\'t know myself!" breezily.\r\n\r\n"Nor I!" laughed Una.\r\n\r\n"Old Man Greylock doesn\'t talk to one, you know--only roars sometimes."\r\nThe woman lifted her eye to the dim peak above her, with the pale mists\r\nstreaming, tress-like, about its crown, from which Mount Greylock takes\r\nits name; then her anxious glance returned to the sufferer. "Ha! there\r\nhe goes--making faces at the pain again," she murmured pityingly. "And,\r\nmercy! I suppose \'twill be a blue moon yet--a dog\'s age--before his son\r\ncan get here."\r\n\r\nIt was a long age anyhow; although, in reality, little more than an\r\nhour--a wild, wind-ridden, fire-painted hour--before three haggard men\r\ncame stumbling up the trail.\r\n\r\nTwo carried a stretcher between them. One had a bag in his hand.\r\n\r\nAs they hoisted that collapsible stretcher between its poles over the\r\nlast bleak hurdle of rock, one, the youngest, dropped his end of it,\r\nwhich the doctor, shifting his bag, took up.\r\n\r\nJack at a Pinch rushed forward.\r\n\r\nAnd ever afterwards Pem liked that churlish nickum because he ignored\r\nher then; because he had no more consciousness of her presence, or of\r\nUna\'s, or of the June woman\'s, than if they had been rocks--blank\r\nrocks--by the trail, as he flung himself on his knees beside his father.\r\n\r\n"Dad! _Dad!_" he cried, his face as gray-blue with hurry as his\r\nbaseball flannels. "Oh-h! Dad, what have you been doing to\r\nyourself--now?"\r\n\r\n"The biter bitten--Treff! Joker pinched!" came the answer in tones\r\nalmost jocular, for the love in that boyish voice was a cordial. "Well!\r\nI guess I haven\'t got my death-blow now you\'ve come. And--and the murder\r\nis out, boy: these little girls know all-ll: who you are--who I am!"\r\n\r\nThen, indeed, Jack at a Pinch raised his head and looked straight across\r\ninto the blue eyes of Pemrose Lorry.\r\n\r\n"You must have thought me an awful \'chuff\'," he said.\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry about the oars," was the mute reply of the girl\'s eyes, but\r\nthe least little tincture of a smile trickling down from her\r\nlip-corners, said: "But I\'m glad I got even with you, somehow!"\r\n\r\nHowever, there was too much "getting even" just now in this wild\r\nspot--Life grimly settling accounts with the dragon who had so often\r\n"hazed" others--for the boy and girl to spend any more conscious\r\nthoughts upon each other.\r\n\r\nThere was the terrible trip--the worst mile ever traveled--down the Man\r\nKiller trail, for him, strapped to the stretcher, after the doctor had\r\nexamined the injury and found the delicate kneecap both slipped and\r\nbroken.\r\n\r\n"I guess if--if I pull through this, I\'ll be a--reformed--character; no\r\nmore--no more eccentricity for me," he murmured dizzily to Pemrose who,\r\nwhen the trail permitted, walked beside him, stroking his hand,--and he\r\nrolled his eyes faintly, through the veil of the opiate which the doctor\r\nhad given, at the knapsack beside him, wherein lay the golden egg.\r\n\r\nAnd with his own hands, the Man Killer at last conquered, as they laid\r\nhim in an ambulance, he took the five-inch, open-work steel box, the\r\nprecious record, from that knapsack\'s depth and handed it to her.\r\n\r\nShe could not look at it, the little Thunder Bird\'s log of that\r\ntwo-hundred mile trip aloft, she could only jealously clasp it to her\r\nbreast,--Toandoah\'s little pal.\r\n\r\n"T-tell your fa-ther from--me," said the broken voice, "that Treff\r\nGraham is the same old Treff; that he m-may be a pirate, but he isn\'t a\r\npig--not re-al-ly! That," faintly, "he apol-o-gizes--and steps aside;\r\nthat, with all his heart--it\'s there, if it is a madcap--" wanderingly,\r\nwinkingly, he touched his left breast--"he hopes that, a year from now,\r\nthe highways of the hea-vens may be opened--the im-mor-tal Thun-der Bird\r\nwill fly!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER XXIII\r\n\r\nTHE CELESTIAL CLIMAX\r\n\r\n\r\nA year from then it did!\r\n\r\nIt awoke the World with its challenging roar, silencing for ever, let us\r\nhope, the racket of guns upon this dear planet, leading man in future to\r\nseek his conquests in more transcendent ways, even outside Earth\'s\r\natmosphere, as it took its pioneer flight again from the misty top of\r\nold Mount Greylock.\r\n\r\nThe World and his wife were there to see: scientists from the four\r\nquarters of the globe--Earth\'s great ones.\r\n\r\nAnd other spellbound spectators, too: Una, the White Birch Group, their\r\nBoy Scout comrades--Stud fast developing into the type of hotspur who\r\nwanted to take passage for the moon--all massed in such a stupendous Get\r\nTogether as made the mountain seem "moonshine land", indeed, to their\r\nthrill-shod feet.\r\n\r\nAnd never--oh! never since the history of Mother Earth and her satellite\r\nbegan did such a spectacular traveler start on such a flaming trip as\r\nwhen the hand of a Camp Fire Girl of America threw the switch and the\r\nsteel explorer, twenty feet long, leaped from its platform high into the\r\nair, pointed directly for the moon, with a great inventor\'s mathematical\r\nprecision,--trailing its two-hundred-foot, rosy trail of fire.\r\n\r\nThere was not breath--not breath, even, to cry: "Watch it tear!"\r\n\r\nOnly breath enough, in young girls\' bodies, at least, to gaze off at\r\nMammy Moon, loved patron of many an outdoor revel, and ponder upon the\r\nnature of the shock she would get when the Thunder Bird\'s last explosion\r\nlit up her fair face with a blue powder-flash--lit it up for earth to\r\nsee!\r\n\r\n"Do--do you think \'twill ev-er get there--two hundred and thirty\r\nthousand miles, about, when--when an eighth of an inch out at the start;\r\nand it would m-miss--miss?" breathed a youth who knelt by the heroine of\r\nthe evening, the inventor\'s daughter.\r\n\r\n"Toandoah doesn\'t miss. My father doesn\'t miss." The young head of\r\nPemrose Lorry queened it in the darkness, with a pride which made of old\r\nGreylock, at that moment, the world\'s throne. "But how--how are we to\r\nlive through the next hundred hours--the next four days--the time the\r\nThunder Bird will take to travel?"\r\n\r\nYet they did succeed in living through it and in leading time a merry\r\ndance too, for young Treffrey Graham, junior, all old scores forgotten,\r\nwas proving a prince of chums, as spirited in play as he was prompt in a\r\npinch.\r\n\r\nAnd together--hand clasped in hand, indeed--by virtue of her being the\r\ninventor\'s daughter, he the son of the man who had resigned a fortune to\r\nthe transcendent invention, side by side with two or three of those Very\r\nGreat Ones, they stood, four nights later, looking through a monster\r\ntelescope upon a mountaintop, and saw--saw the celestial climax, the\r\nfirst of the heavenly bodies reached.\r\n\r\nSaw the blue powder-flash light up the full, round face of the Silver\r\nQueen they loved, while the Thunder Bird, expiring, dropped its bones\r\nupon her dead surface.\r\n\r\n"It\'s--got--there," breathed the youth. "What next? Some day--some day,\r\nmaybe, we\'ll be shooting off there--together?"\r\n\r\n"Yes! if only the Man in the Moon could shoot us back!" breathed\r\nPemrose.\r\n\r\nAlready it had come to be "we" bound up with "What next?" for it would,\r\nindeed, be a zero "next" in which the hands of youth and maiden would\r\nnot meet in comradeship--and love.\r\n\r\nBut the sun and center of the girl\'s heart was still--and would be for\r\nlong--her father.\r\n\r\nThe greatest moment of that unprecedented night came when Toandoah bent\r\nto her, and said:\r\n\r\n"Little Pem! there was just one moment when I may have been discouraged,\r\nyou remember! None knew the Wise Woman who saved the city."\r\n\r\n[Illustration]\r\n\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n\r\nA story of the best type of home life, with a charming heroine.\r\n\r\nTHEN CAME CAROLINE\r\n\r\nBy LELA HORN RICHARDS\r\n\r\nWith illustrations by M. L. Greer.\r\n\r\n12mo. Cloth 306 pages.\r\n\r\nCaroline was the fourth daughter in Doctor Ravenel\'s family of five\r\ngirls,--fourth on the list, but first in mischief, in ingenuity, in\r\noriginality, in human sympathy and democracy. The father\'s health made\r\nit necessary for the Ravenels to leave their old Southern home and\r\nmigrate to Colorado. Here Caroline grew up--from ten to eighteen--her\r\ndays full of interest, her courage, as the family struggled along\r\nunder straightened circumstances, always unflagging. Sometimes the\r\ndelight and sometimes the despair of her mother and her sisters,\r\nCaroline made friends in many quarters and met in unusual ways the\r\nmany emergencies into which her impulsiveness led her.\r\n\r\nThis is a splendid story of the best type of home life, and the\r\nfour other girls--Leigh the unselfish, Alison the ambitious and\r\nself-seeking, Mayre the artistic and Hope the baby--complete a\r\nwell-individualized group, alternately caressed and disciplined by old\r\nblack "Mammy," who had accompanied her "fam\'bly" from Virginia.\r\nThere are plenty of boys in the story too, likable lads, such as\r\ninevitably would gather around a group of wholesome and merry girls,\r\nready for a game, a dance or any other frolic. Caroline will be a\r\nfavorite with girl readers. They will enjoy the account of her running\r\naway; her attempt to help her mother form a "social acquaintance" in\r\ntheir new home; her outwitting of Alison at the party; her early\r\nliterary efforts; and the daring with which she "puts her finger" in\r\nnearly everyone\'s "pie."\r\n\r\nLITTLE, BROWN & CO., Publishers\r\n\r\n34 Beacon Street, Boston\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEMROSE LORRY, CAMP FIRE GIRL ***\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'World of Mockery'

'Moskowitz, Sam'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of World of Mockery\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: World of Mockery\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Sam Moskowitz\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Don Lynch\r\n\r\nRelease date: April 23, 2020 [eBook #61904]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD OF MOCKERY ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n World of Mockery\r\n\r\n By SAM MOSKOWITZ\r\n\r\n When John Hall walked on Ganymede, a thousand\r\n weird beings walked with him. He was one man\r\n on a sphere of mocking, mad creatures--one\r\n voice in a world of shrieking echoes.\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Planet Stories Summer 1941.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nJohn Hall wiped away blood that trickled from his mouth. Painstakingly\r\nhe disengaged himself from the hopeless wreckage of the control room.\r\nHe staggered free, his lungs pumping with terrific effort to draw\r\nenough oxygen from the thin, bitterly cold air of Ganymede--that had\r\nrushed in when his helmet had been shocked open.\r\n\r\nFeeling unusually light he walked over to an enormous tear in the side\r\nof his space-cruiser. A bleak scene met his eyes. Short, grotesquely\r\nhewn hills and crags. Rocky pitted plains. And a bitter, wild wind blew\r\nconstantly, streaming his long hair into disarray.\r\n\r\nHe cursed through tight lips. Fate! He had been on his way to Vesta,\r\nlargest city of Jupiter, when his fuel had given out. He had forgotten\r\nto check it, and here he was.\r\n\r\nDespondently he kicked a small rock in front of him. It rose unhindered\r\nby the feeble gravitation fully thirty feet in the air.\r\n\r\nSuddenly there were a dozen scuffing sounds, and a dozen stones winged\r\nthemselves painstakingly through the air and began to descend in slow\r\nmotion.\r\n\r\nSurprise struck, he gazed furtively about him. Momentarily his heart\r\nseemed caught in some terrible vise.\r\n\r\nThere was a sudden movement behind a close ridge. Momentarily John\r\nHall was rendered paralyzed. Then he backed slowly toward the ship and\r\nsafety behind a Johnson heat ray. The vague form abruptly materialized,\r\netched in black against the twilight horizon of Ganymede. The effect\r\nwas startling. The creature stood upright, on two legs, with two\r\ngnarled, lengthy arms dangling from its bony shoulders. Human? The\r\nquestion registered itself on his brain, and the thing in front of\r\nhim gave unwitting reply, as it moved to a clearer position. No, not\r\nhuman. Maybe not even animal. Two great eyes bulged curiously from a\r\ndrawn, shrunken, monkey-like face. The body was as warped and distorted\r\nas the bole of an old oak tree. With pipe-stem arms and legs, bulging\r\nat the joints. Its most natural position seemed to be a crouch, with\r\nthe arms dragging on the ground. Somehow this travesty of human form\r\nstruck him as being humorous. He chuckled throatily, and then stopped\r\nwith a start as the same chuckle crudely vibrated back, echo-like.\r\nBut it was no echo! No, that wasn\'t possible. John raised his hand\r\nto scratch his head through force of habit; forgetful that this was\r\nimpossible through the thick glassite helmet he wore. The tall,\r\ngangling creature in front of him watched closely for a moment, then\r\nstretched one preposterously long limb up and scratched briskly on his\r\nleathery skull in imitation of John Hall.\r\n\r\nThe answer struck him instantly. Why hadn\'t he thought of it. This\r\nanimal, this thing, whatever it was, was a natural mimic. Such a\r\nthing was not unknown on earth. Monkeys often imitated the gestures\r\nof humans. Parrots prattled back powerful expletives and phrases. He\r\nrather welcomed his new find now. It would be pretty dismal all alone\r\non desolate Ganymede with no one to talk to but himself, and this\r\nstrange animal would undoubtedly help to lighten the long, dreary\r\nhours, perhaps days, that stretched ahead of him until rescue came.\r\nCertainly there was nothing to fear from this creature; not at least\r\nby himself, born to resist the pull of a gravity force many times more\r\npowerful then that of Ganymede\'s.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe walked slowly toward the creature viewing its reactions carefully.\r\nIt held its ground. Evidently fear was not an element in its makeup.\r\nWhy should it be? Doubtlessly these things were the only animate\r\nlife on the globe. Masters of all they surveyed. No other beings to\r\ncontest their supremecy. No need then for fear or even for savageness.\r\nThey were, undoubtedly, happy-go-lucky beasts who scavenged the bleak,\r\nrocky surface of the moon for hardy mosses or whatever they lived\r\non. He heard a scuffing noise to his left. Another creature, similar\r\nalmost in every detail to the first had popped into view. That seemed\r\nto be a signal for a dozen others to haphazardly appear from the most\r\nunexpected places and niches. One rose up within a few feet of Hall and\r\nblinked its great eyes at him in greeting.\r\n\r\n"What the--", Hall spluttered to himself, "seems to be a family reunion\r\nof some sort." Suddenly, prompted by some impish quirk he shouted to\r\nhis bizarre audience, "Hello there." A moment of silence and then a\r\nchorus of rasping sounds sent back "Ah-low-da." Probably the closest\r\nthat their crude vocal apparatus could interpret his alien accents.\r\nContinuing his mock procedure, John stretched his hands aloft, and then\r\nin stiff, prim fashion bowed low. With solemn dignity the assembly\r\nemulated his action. John leaped twenty feet into the air with glee,\r\nand as he floated slowly to the ground he watched the pitiful attempts\r\nbelow to equal his feat.\r\n\r\nFor a moment everything was still and John good-naturedly surveyed the\r\ngrotesque caricatures of human beings that surrounded him. "Well," John\r\nfinally commented candidly, "at least we are in agreement over what\r\nline of action to follow, which is more than I could say for a lot of\r\nhuman friends of mine." A blurred attempt at imitation followed.\r\n\r\nThen abruptly it was dark. Just like that. Perhaps you have seen\r\ndarkness fall in the tropics? Just ten or fifteen minutes of twilight\r\nand then it\'s dark. The thin atmosphere of Ganymede did not maintain\r\ntwilight very long. John cursed a little as he backed his erratic\r\nway back to the ship, revealed only by the gleam of the stars on\r\nits rounded hull. He groped about for the tear in the surface of\r\nthe glimmering shell, found it and tumbled hastily in to escape the\r\nterrible cold that was forming in the absence of the sun\'s heat. The\r\npilot room was rapidly assuming the aspect of an underground cavern\r\nwith long, gleaming icicles hanging from the top. John grumbled a\r\nbit, and then opened the door to the small supply room. Closed it\r\nquickly behind him and sat down on a box of canned beans. Funny,\r\nhe reflected, that they had never been able to produce synthetic\r\nfoods in feasible form. Perhaps habit was harder to change than the\r\nscientists had thought. People still liked their meals--solid. He\r\nreached out and switched on the feeble storeroom light which operated\r\nfrom an independent source. Its yellow glow brought back a comforting\r\nnostalgia. He dined frugally on a can of beans and some biscuits;\r\nturned the heating units of his suit up to 70 degrees, and dozed into\r\nfitful slumber.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSome indeterminate period later he awoke. His mind still a little\r\nnumbed by sleep he slipped the catch on his helmet and threw it back\r\nin order to take advantage of the bracing effect the sharp, thin air\r\nof Ganymede had displayed on the previous evening. He was totally\r\nunprepared for the furnace-like blast of heat that swept across his\r\nexposed features. He stood for a moment, stupefied, while the oven-heat\r\ndried the juices of his face and started to take on a blistering\r\neffect. Comprehension dawned magically and he snapped back the helmet\r\nand breathed with distinct relief the air supplied by his space\r\nsuit which was scientifically kept at a pleasant temperature. The\r\nexplanation was simplicity itself. The air cover of Ganymede was so\r\nthin, and its cloudless skies so clear, that the sun, though distant,\r\nbeat down like old fury itself. He opened the door that led from the\r\nsupply room into the pilot room. The long, pointed icicles which had\r\nformed the previous night were gone. The only clue to show that they\r\nhad once existed was a rapidly rising cloud of steam from the steel\r\nfloor. His glassite helmet misted swiftly as he walked through the\r\nroom, then cleared slowly as he stepped out into the full glare of the\r\nsun. He could not help but admire the potency of this yellow star, even\r\nfrom a distance at which it appeared hardly larger than a standard\r\nsized base ball.\r\n\r\nHe cupped one heavily encased hand over the top of his helmet to\r\nprotect his eyes from the sun, and searched the skies thoroughly for\r\nany sign of a rescue ship. Sighting nothing he dropped his hand\r\ndespondently to his side and stumbled thoughtfully along the rough\r\nterrain. His mind worked desperately, attempting to devise some\r\nfeasible means of signaling the rescue parties which must, at this\r\nvery moment, be combing the space lanes--searching for him. Some huge\r\nflare might be useful, but a simple glance about him revealed that\r\nthe largest form of plant life, which might serve as fuel, were small\r\ngrey mosses that grew on the underside of occasional outcropping rock\r\nformations. They were useless for anything but a tiny smudge fire.\r\nHis mind turned back to his ship. Possibly there was something highly\r\ncombustible aboard that might be used for a flare. His mind flitted\r\nthoughtfully over every item in the ship\'s supplies and retired with\r\nthe conclusion that the anti-fire campaigns which had been conducted\r\nfor so long on the inhabited planets were going too far! His only hope\r\nlay in the possibility that one of the rescue ships might briefly scan\r\nthe surface of Ganymede with one of their telescopic vision plates and\r\nnotice the gleaming wreck of his auxiliary space ship. That gave him an\r\nidea. Something he had once used in an old book. About a castaway on a\r\ndesert island arranging rocks to spell out giant words in the hope that\r\nsome passing airplane might see the message and land to investigate.\r\nSlim chance, but still nothing could be overlooked if he hoped for\r\neventual rescue.\r\n\r\nSwiftly he set about gathering rocks. He planned to form the simple\r\nfour letter word HELP, with an exclamation point added for emphasis.\r\nSo engrossed was he in his work that he scarcely noted the unusual\r\nvolume of noise about him, or if he did notice it attributed it to\r\nthe small slides caused by his unearthing rocks from their natural\r\nformation. Hours passed while he painstakingly formed the shape of an\r\nenormous letter "H," a letter fully a tenth of a mile long. Exhausted\r\nby the unaccustomed manual labor he straightened up a moment and cast\r\nan approving eye across the extent of his handiwork. A gasp rose\r\ninvoluntarily from his throat as a strange sight crossed his line of\r\nvision. The land about him fairly swarmed with the peculiar, bony\r\ncreatures he had encountered the evening before, and as far as his eyes\r\ncould see there stretched an uninterrupted series of H\'s, all exactly\r\nsimilar in shape, size and peculiarities of the original! And at the\r\nedge of each of the letters sat a puffing group of emaciated, leathery\r\nskinned Ganymedians! Their great, watery eyes blinking patiently and\r\nsoulfully in his direction!\r\n\r\nHe didn\'t know whether to laugh or to cry. It was impossible to\r\nproceed. In order to lay out another letter he would have to accomplish\r\nthe tremendous task of removing all the other H\'s as well. He shuddered\r\nas he realized that he would have to repeat the process again and again\r\nuntil finally the one word help, with a string of exclamation points\r\nmiles in length remained. Suddenly a thought struck him. Wasn\'t this\r\nseemingly endless row of huge H\'s sufficient to attract the attention\r\nof any searching party that happened to see it without going to the\r\ntrouble, double trouble at that, of adding the rest of the letters that\r\nspelled out the word HELP? It seemed logical enough to him. With a\r\ndistinct air of relief he turned away, his arduous task of the past few\r\nhours completed, thanks to these freakish creatures that inhabited this\r\nmoon.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAgain the beginning of the short twilight was progressing and the sun\r\nwas settling rapidly in the sky--its glare and heat diminishing with\r\neach passing moment. The massive bulk of Jupiter above could be seen\r\nonly as a long, thin, crescent that stretched one quarter of the way\r\nacross the visible sky. He experimentally lifted his helmet an inch or\r\ntwo. A sharp gust of air scurried hurriedly around the contours of his\r\nface and slightly ruffled his hair. He threw the helmet all the way\r\nback and with exultation breathed in tremendous gulps of crisp, _fresh_\r\nair. For the first time that day his powerful frame rose to its full\r\nsix feet of height and he stood statuesque, his shadow cast before him,\r\na symbol of man against the cosmos.\r\n\r\nStill, somehow his mind could not shift from the ever-present danger.\r\nPossible exhaustion of his food supply; the energy heating units of\r\nhis space suit--of water. Once again his thoughts turned to the humor\r\nprovided by the strange inhabitants of Ganymede. He called out sharply\r\nto one of them: "How are you old chap?"\r\n\r\n"How\'re _you_ all chap," the grating reply floated back, thinned by the\r\nsparse atmosphere. Some guttural effect in the creature\'s voice seemed\r\nto place the emphasis on the word "you." And it sounded uncannily\r\nlike a return question, infinitely more so than the echo-like effect\r\nit should have had! And also the speech had improved! Very definitely\r\nimproved! Where before they had relayed back his sentences in an\r\nindistinguishable blur of sound, now some of the words stood out,\r\nsharp, clear!\r\n\r\n"This chap doesn\'t need enunciation lessons," John muttered softly\r\nto himself. And as if to prove it the lips of the creature moved\r\nerratically, as if talking to itself in the identical manner that John\r\nhad just done.\r\n\r\n"Nice weather we\'re having," John phrased ironically as small flakes of\r\nice formed on the end of his nose.\r\n\r\n"Like hell it is!" came back the surprise retort.\r\n\r\nJohn stood there aghast. The creature had emitted the very same reply\r\nthat he had been _thinking_, but had not voiced!\r\n\r\nThe Ganymedian in front of him took on a more surprising aspect\r\nwith each passing moment. For some reason nature had bestowed upon\r\nthis travesty of human form a telepathic mental pick-up. Similar,\r\nin results, to the ones in use on earth, except that this was not a\r\nmechanical device. It was, undoubtedly, a far more efficient receiver\r\nof flesh and blood, or whatever substance this thing was composed of,\r\ncapable of picking up thought waves as simply as a radio receiver picks\r\nup radio waves.\r\n\r\n"It can do anything but understand," John found himself saying. He\r\ncould only wonder why some scientist had not discovered these creatures\r\nbefore and dissected them to find out just how their peculiar brains\r\noperated.\r\n\r\nAnd then, for the first time in many hours, his mind turned back to his\r\nfiancee, Joan Crandell. He cursed the stolid fates that had stranded\r\nhim here on this god-forsaken satellite with a bunch of damn-fool\r\nmimics. In his mind he visualized Joan as he had last seen her. The\r\ngolden, glory-sheen of her hair flowing softly down to her shoulders;\r\nher straight little nose and small, firm chin; her piquant expression\r\nand oh, _so_ desirable lips. And last, but certainly not least her\r\nshort, trim figure. Perhaps she wasn\'t the Venus ideal, but to his mind\r\nat least, she was infinitely more lovable--an ancient phrase, "and\r\nwhat\'s more she\'s got arms," seemed to go well with that thought. For a\r\nlittle more he accorded himself the luxury of seeing her in his mind\'s\r\neye, and then slowly, sadly, shook his head, and looked up. His eyes\r\npopped in disbelief of what he saw! His hands trembled with fearful\r\ndelight, wonder and amazement. It couldn\'t be! It wasn\'t possible! _But\r\nthere she stood--Joan Crandell!_ To the tiniest detail as he had seen\r\nher last! Here on this crazy moon! In an agony of bewilderment he cried\r\nout, "Joan! Joan!" He could say no more. The paralysis of surprise\r\nleft his limbs and he dashed wildly forward. _"Joan!" and his arms\r\nreached out to grasp her, and twined about a hard, bony, misshapen,\r\ndistorted, leathery form!_ He recoiled in abject horror. These strange\r\ncreatures--an instant before new toys to amuse and astound him were\r\ntransformed into terror-ridden monsters. No longer a joke--but a\r\ntragedy! Joan, or rather the illusion of Joan was there no longer. In\r\nher place stood a stupid, blinking, _thing_ that threatened his very\r\nsanity--his existence. Something snapped in his mind!\r\n\r\nHe ran. Miles he ran. His powerful, earthly muscles lending magic\r\npowers to his feet. Across broken, rock-hard plains--stumbling,\r\nfalling, slipping, across stretches of mountain region and through\r\ndim valleys. And night descended upon him. Unfailing, relentless, it\r\nsettled leaving everything pitch dark. And they followed him. Miles\r\nbehind, but never giving up, never faltering. A mad man they followed\r\nwho did not run, but leaped, fifty feet into the air, and screaming at\r\nhis slow rate of descent barely touched the ground before he was off\r\non another leap, even greater than the preceding one. A dozen times he\r\nwas speared upon dangerous rocks--the tough substance of his suit the\r\nonly thing between him and death. And as tiny leaks formed in his suit,\r\nthe insidious cold crept in slowly, surely, numbing his body until each\r\nleap was a little shorter, a little less powerful than the other.\r\nUntil lost in a maze of bleak mountains he collapsed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nDawn bolted deer-like over the black hills of Ganymede, and as if it\r\nhad never interrupted its work, the distant sun beat down upon the\r\nfrozen landscape with renewed vigor. A lone earth figure rolled over\r\nand groaned. Shakily it got to its feet and took a few trembling steps.\r\nJohn Hall, exhausted physically and mentally was all right again. The\r\nmadness of the preceding night had left him, almost as suddenly as it\r\nhad come upon him. It was almost as if kind nature had blotted out the\r\nportion of his brain which preserved memory, and left his mind, dulled,\r\nnumb. In a daze, his once proud figure tripped along the devious\r\nmountain passes. Too tired to leap--barely capable of moving, John\r\nHall threaded his tortuous way through regions only half recalled. No\r\nthoughts, simply a guiding instinct that urged him, warned him, that he\r\nmust go this way to return to the space ship, and food--maybe rescue.\r\n\r\nAnd a hundred yards behind him, unnoticed, trailed multiple, black,\r\nungainly creatures, who stumbled when he stumbled, fell when he fell.\r\n\r\nIt was nearing twilight again when John Hall panted back into the\r\nregion of his space ship. Barely cognizant of what he was doing, he\r\nsmashed a can of beans against the steel hull of the ship and devoured\r\nthem without ceremony, animal-like. Then he sat wearily down upon\r\na ruined metal bench and tried to relax. Weakly, but nevertheless\r\ndesperately, he fought with himself. Trying to clear the cobwebs that\r\ncluttered up his brain and reason rationally again. Thoughts, like\r\nflitting ghosts, aroused tantilizingly, only to whisk down some hidden\r\nchannel of his mind before he could fully grasp and comprehend them.\r\nOne of the grotesque things, creatures, objects, whatever they were,\r\ndrew close to him, its bulging eyes peering not inquisitively, but\r\n_fearfully_ into his. He knew! The eluding coherency of thought came.\r\nThe answer to the enigma lay in his own mind! His powerful earth mind.\r\nScientists had always been aware that the mind radiates energy thoughts\r\naway from it. That one mind is capable of hypnotizing another, even\r\nacross great distances. These inhabitants of Ganymede, with their acute\r\nmental receptivity, were slaves to his more powerful will--his every\r\nthought. And against their own desires they followed and imitated\r\nhim. And through some unknown chemical reaction even took the form,\r\nmomentarily, of some wished-for object. It was clear. But now again it\r\nwasn\'t. His mind was failing. Falling back into the abyss of blackness\r\nand incoherency! He stared a moment at one of the peculiar faces before\r\nhim and as he stared it changed, grew smooth, black, ebony black--and\r\nGod--blank! Blank like his mind--part of his mind, for through the rest\r\nof it swirled a fantasmagoria of images, and disconnected phrases. He\r\nwas alone, or almost so. Those things were still here. It was getting\r\ndarker ... colder ... so cold ... was this all a dream? Then he\r\nstopped! For over the blank face of the thing in front of him flickered\r\nimages, mirroring his thoughts, like some disconnected motion picture!\r\n\r\nWith incredible strength he tore away the protecting mass of his space\r\nsuit. The cold wind hit him, knifed him through and through. And\r\nhe stepped forward. Walking, walking, and suddenly his great hands\r\nrose aloft in an agony of sorrow. His mighty voice bellowed above\r\nthe elements of loneliness, of despair. And always, those grotesque,\r\nstorm-swept, misshapen creatures fastened their wet, glistening eyes\r\nupon him and in the depths of them displayed rage as he displayed it;\r\ndespair as he displayed it. And when he pounded his clenched fists in\r\npowerful blows upon his resounding chest, they pounded their gnarled\r\nlimbs upon their shrunken chests in powerful mimicry.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen the crew of the rescue ship "Space-Spear" landed, they turned back\r\nin horror at a planet of mad-things that shrieked, wept, raged and\r\ndespaired in a manner that was more than imitation--that was real! And\r\nthey could not help but shudder inwardly at the terrible fate that had\r\nbefallen John Hall, and his horrible, unknowing revenge!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD OF MOCKERY ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Out of the Dark Nebula'

'Coe, Milton L.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Out of the Dark Nebula\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Out of the Dark Nebula\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Milton L. Coe\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Raymond F. Houlihan\r\n\r\nRelease date: December 18, 2020 [eBook #64076]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE DARK NEBULA ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Out of the DARK NEBULA\r\n\r\n By MILTON L. COE\r\n\r\n Five thousand green space-cadets, manning\r\n the mighty _Albion_ on their shake-down cruise,\r\n heard that grim message from HQ: "_War with\r\n Xantu! Return immediately to Terra Base!_"\r\n Which posed a problem ... for lurking in\r\n starry battleground, somewhere between Earth\r\n and the doom-ship, was half the Xantu fleet!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Planet Stories May 1951.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe bulkheads of the mighty battleship rocked with the song welling\r\nfrom five thousand throats. As the young, eager voices swelled into\r\nthe chorus of "The Spaceman\'s Hymn," Vice-Admiral Jack Harrigan felt a\r\nlump grow in his own throat. Captain Mike O\'Brien, short, muscular and\r\ndefinitely Irish, joined the admiral at the balcony hatch; together\r\nthey looked down upon the huge ship\'s auditorium.\r\n\r\n"It\'s a long, long way to the Milky Way ..." the chorus rose, fell,\r\nfaded and died.\r\n\r\nHarrigan nodded to O\'Brien and the two men matched strides down the\r\npassageway.\r\n\r\n"Something on your mind, Jack?" O\'Brien asked.\r\n\r\n"Oh, I don\'t know, Mike. I just got to thinking about the old days,\r\nI guess, hearing those kids singing. The Force is all glory to them;\r\ncolor, ceremony, power, flitting around the Galaxy like this. Cream\r\nof the crop, they are, and every last one of them fought to get in\r\nthe Force. But I wonder how they\'d face up to the other side of this\r\nbusiness?"\r\n\r\n"Combat?" O\'Brien screwed up his face.\r\n\r\n"Yeh boy. Combat like we saw, with our backs to the wall and\r\nnine-tenths of the Galaxy howling for our heart\'s blood. Wonder if\r\nthey\'d change their minds about the force--" he jerked his thumb back\r\ntowards the auditorium--"if it came again?"\r\n\r\n"Dunno." Mike shrugged. "Maybe old Fitzsimmons wondered about us the\r\nsame way when we went on our shake-down cruise. We were a sad bunch,\r\nI\'ll admit. But we didn\'t pan out too bad, did we Jack?"\r\n\r\nThe two officers had reached the observation deck. The Milky Way\r\nstretched a hazy filament across the heavens. Harrigan drew a long\r\nbreath, hooked his thumbs in his belt and smiled.\r\n\r\n"No, Mike, not bad at all, if I do say so. It was rugged while we were\r\ngoing through it, I suppose. But things have been quiet for so long\r\nnow ... damn it, we did have fun, didn\'t we Mike?"\r\n\r\nMike grinned crookedly. "Fun is right. Remember the time Shorty\r\nMichaels caught those two Xantu ships flat-footed behind the Coal Sack?"\r\n\r\n"Yeah. Blew \'em to Hell and back and found out later they were the two\r\nstrongest ships in the Xantu fleet. If they had seen him first ...\r\nbrother, he shook for a week after they told him."\r\n\r\nMike roared with laughter. "Battle wagons, and Shorty with a destroyer."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"And how about that time the gang of Zith stinkers ambushed us on\r\nSirius V.... Were they surprised when their water-pistols didn\'t kill\r\nus! They didn\'t know that water isn\'t quite as fatal to a Terran as it\r\nis to a Zith."\r\n\r\n"Yeah," O\'Brien said; "and I\'ll never forget the smile on Cap Martin\'s\r\nface as he sprayed \'em with the ship\'s fire hose."\r\n\r\n"Well," the admiral said, sobering, "if you\'d seen the pitiful remains\r\nin their slave camps on Sirius VII, the way Cap and I did...." He shook\r\nhis head slowly. "We should have bounced a couple Duodec bombs off\r\ntheir home planet. And on Xantu too. Finished the job right."\r\n\r\nThe captain gazed down at his shoes. "We might get the chance yet. Any\r\nnews lately?"\r\n\r\n"Not much. Just the usual rumblings from the Dark Nebulas. But I agree\r\nwith HQ that the Xantu are at the bottom of it, without a doubt. You\r\nnever know when those varmints are going to start trouble. That\'s the\r\nreason for all this hush-up preparation; we\'re going to be ready at the\r\ndrop of a helmet if anybody wants to rassle."\r\n\r\n"Smart move by HQ for once," Mike said. "Never hurt to be ready for...."\r\n\r\nA communications orderly saluted smartly.\r\n\r\n"Pardon, Sir. HQ Double urgent."\r\n\r\nHarrigan took the flimsy from the orderly and scanned it quickly. His\r\nface went slack. "Good Lord, O\'Brien! Hear this: \'Dark Nebula forces\r\nsimultaneously attacked Rigel patrol post and Capella II settlement\r\n1400 hours. Personnel annihilated. Fleet headed by Xantu elements\r\nheaded Sector I. Return to Base Immediately\'."\r\n\r\n"Sector I. Sol--Alpha Centauri--Sirius sector!" Mike whistled and shook\r\nhis head. "They\'ll cut us off before we can reach Terra."\r\n\r\n"They will if we don\'t get a move on," the admiral snapped, "and, we\r\ncan\'t fight with a green crew. Gotta get these kids back to Terra."\r\n\r\nHarrigan leaped to the audio. His orders were short and sharp.\r\n\r\n"Drive room: Joe, full speed home, boy. The bubble\'s busted wide open.\r\n\r\n"Quartermaster: Wilson, prepare to issue battle suits.\r\n\r\n"Central: Give me the system. Thanks." He cleared his throat. "All\r\nhands hear this. A state of war exists between the Solar Federation\r\nand the Dark Nebula League. We will attempt to reach Terra base before\r\nbeing cut off by the enemy fleet. However, just in case, we will be\r\nready. Battle stations!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe next few hours were hectic ones, especially for the few seasoned\r\nofficers aboard the battleship _Albion_. The _Albion_ was a fairly\r\nnew ship. She was fast, heavily armored, and carried the latest guns,\r\nthree facts which Harrigan hoped would save them from disaster. He\r\nrealized that HQ had had to break radio silence to notify them of the\r\nsudden outbreak of hostilities, but he also knew that the enemy had\r\nundoubtedly intercepted the message, plotted the _Albion_ course,\r\nand sent a half-dozen of their fastest ships in hot pursuit. That\'s\r\nthe way the Dark Nebula League liked to fight: six to one. Harrigan\r\nfigured that he just might be able to outrun them; but if the League\r\nships did manage to cut them off from Terra ... well, he hated the\r\nidea of fighting that bunch of cut-throats with a crew of green kids.\r\nOrdinarily, new spacemen were distributed among crews of seasoned men\r\nat a ratio of about one in ten. To be in top fighting condition, the\r\n_Albion_ should carry four thousand regulars and four hundred greenies.\r\nThere were five thousand men on board; one hundred and fifty old line\r\nofficers, fifty newly commissioned officers, and forty-eight hundred\r\nTerran youngsters fresh out of ground school.\r\n\r\nThe officers had done their best to whip the crew into the semblance of\r\na fighting unit. If a fracas did develop, they might squeeze through if\r\nthe kids could follow orders. But in battle things happened almost too\r\nfast to be covered by orders. A man had to think for himself.\r\n\r\nHarrigan found himself staring through the forward screen, wishing\r\nthat three or four thousand hardened space-Marines would suddenly\r\nmaterialize out of thin air. O\'Brien came steaming up. He sat down\r\nbeside the admiral, lit a cigarette and said "Phwooee."\r\n\r\n"Right you are," Harrigan answered. "Things sure popped, didn\'t they?"\r\n\r\n"And how. Think we ought to prowl?"\r\n\r\n"Guess so. We\'re going to watch things mighty damned close till we hit\r\nbase. Better check the gun-banks. And by the way, Mike, who had the\r\ncontrols when that order came in?"\r\n\r\n"Young chap named McDaniels."\r\n\r\n"And his navigator?"\r\n\r\n"Rose. Why?"\r\n\r\n"Have them report to me when they come off. They\'re to be congratulated\r\nfor getting us away fast and right. If the rest of the crew picks up\r\nas fast as those two, we\'ll make out O.K. Let\'s have a look at those\r\nbanks."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe _Albion\'s_ eight gun-banks spangled the ship from nose to tubes\r\nlike stripes on a watermelon. Each bank was divided into A, B and C\r\nsections, fore, aft and center. Forty-eight men and two officers manned\r\neach section. The atomic cannon in the nose were fired only by the\r\nship\'s Master gunner, a sardonic expert named Irvington.\r\n\r\nAt number six gun-bank, Harrigan and O\'Brien entered section C\r\nhatch. O\'Brien\'s mouth fell open. Along the catwalk behind the gun\r\nemplacements proper, men lounged and leaned. One slept. Several\r\nwere smoking and most of them had thrown back their helmets. Of the\r\nforty-eight, three had their eyes on the finder screens.\r\n\r\n"Attention," Harrigan roared, and fifty men jerked erect like puppets\r\non a string. "Get your helmets up and your eyes on those screens. And\r\nkeep them there until you\'re ordered off. This isn\'t a shake-down any\r\nlonger; this is war!" He turned to O\'Brien. "Who\'s in charge here?"\r\n\r\n"Lieutenant Sanderson."\r\n\r\n"Leave the Ensign in charge and have Sanderson report to the bridge at\r\nonce." Harrigan stooped through the hatch. "And Mike, see that the word\r\nis passed along to the remaining gun-crews. Damned if I\'ll see a repeat\r\nof this!"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," Mike answered, and turned toward the nervous lieutenant.\r\n"Report to the bridge, Mister, and prepare to be chewed."\r\n\r\nSanderson managed a weak "Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHarrigan was pacing the bridge when McDaniels and Rose came in, stood\r\nat attention and saluted crisply.\r\n\r\nThe admiral returned the salute. "Relax, gentlemen. I called you here\r\nto commend you both personally for your fast, clear thinking under\r\nthe stress of emergency. Cool-headedness under strain is taken as a\r\nmatter of course in the Space Forces, but in this case your actions\r\nserved as an example to an inexperienced crew and are therefore doubly\r\nappreciated by the officers of this ship. Sit down."\r\n\r\nThe two men took seats and Harrigan relaxed behind his own massive\r\ndesk. "I was with your father at Cadet school, McDaniels, and later at\r\nthe Battle of Canopus. Where is the Commander now?"\r\n\r\nMcDaniels, short and pudgy, answered proudly. "He took command of\r\nPolaris Base I just before we left on the cruise, sir."\r\n\r\n"Oh?"\r\n\r\nThe kid doesn\'t know yet, Harrigan thought. If the Force can\'t stem\r\nthe League attack damned quick, old McDaniels and his men will be the\r\nexpendables in this scrap. But the kid sitting before him was so eager\r\nand obviously proud of his father that the admiral hadn\'t the heart to\r\ntell him the true score.\r\n\r\n"Sir," Rose piped up, "are you the same officer Harrigan that Dad\r\nmentioned during the First Campaign? He was Master Navigator on the old\r\n\'Cometeer.\'"\r\n\r\n"I certainly am." Harrigan smiled broadly. "\'Red\' Rose was the best\r\nnavigator I ever had. He could plot you half way around the Galaxy and\r\nland you in your barracks just in time for supper. How long has it been\r\nnow, six years, seven?"\r\n\r\nRose looked at the floor. "Seven, sir. He was hunting Kalabs on\r\nCallisto when the landslide caught him."\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry, deeply sorry."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFootsteps sounded in the passageway and the lieutenant, Sanderson, came\r\nin, followed closely by O\'Brien. The lieutenant tucked his cap under\r\nhis elbow, smoothed back his thick hair and saluted.\r\n\r\nHarrigan gazed at the man for a long moment.\r\n\r\n"Lieutenant, perhaps the seriousness of our circumstances has not\r\nimpressed you fully. But the _Albion_, carrying this inexperienced\r\ncrew, stands in imminent danger of being overwhelmed by the League\r\nfleet, or at best, being cut off from Terran base. Therefore I think\r\nit.... Oops!" Harrigan had knocked his water pitcher to the floor.\r\nThe plastic didn\'t break, but water splashed. Sanderson jumped back\r\nconvulsively, his face white. O\'Brien motioned an orderly to mop up\r\nthe mess, and the admiral went on. "You are a seasoned junior officer,\r\nSanderson. Your record is excellent, otherwise some form of punishment\r\nwould be in order. I shouldn\'t need to repeat that it is your duty to\r\nkeep your crew on the alert until we are out of danger. Dismissed."\r\n\r\nThe lieutenant saluted and turned to leave.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Sanderson, one more thing." Harrigan rose and walked around the\r\ndesk.\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir?"\r\n\r\nThe admiral faced the lieutenant and, before the dumbfounded eyes of\r\nRose, McDaniels and the orderly, very deliberately drew his service\r\nblaster and shot Sanderson dead center between the eyes.\r\n\r\nMcDaniels gulped. Rose jumped up trembling. The orderly let his mop\r\nfall with a clatter. O\'Brien winked at Harrigan.\r\n\r\n"Great hell, you\'ve killed him." Rose found his voice.\r\n\r\n"That I have. That, gentlemen ..." Harrigan pointed to the corpse, "is\r\na Zith."\r\n\r\nAn immediate babble of "why\'s" and "how do you know\'s" filled the air.\r\n\r\n"Look," the admiral motioned and the men gathered around the corpse.\r\nHarrigan stooped, ran his fingers through the thick black hair and\r\ncame up with two fleshy, antenna-like appendages about four inches\r\nin length, which sprouted from the skull an inch or so above the\r\nhair-line. "On the Zith home planet, their religion requires that the\r\nhead be cleanly shaven, and these antennae are a source of pride. But\r\nwhen a Zith wishes to pass for a Terran, he allows his hair to grow,\r\nand as long as the antennae are kept flat, he has a fair chance of\r\ngoing undetected. It\'s one of the oddities of the Universe that the\r\nZith and Terran, so unlike in temperament, are, to the eye, unlike\r\nonly in this small way. But, in Terran company, most Ziths acquire the\r\nnervous habit of continually running their hands over their hair, to\r\nmake sure that the antennae are well hidden."\r\n\r\n"But a lot of Terrans have the habit of smoothing down their hair,"\r\nRose objected. "Isn\'t that pretty thin evidence to shoot a man by, if\r\nyou\'re not sure?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Right," O\'Brien broke in, "but you notice that the admiral said the\r\nantennae were the only difference noticeable to the eye. There\'s\r\nanother, more important difference. The chemical make-up of the Zith\r\nbody is such that water reacts violently on contact with it, producing\r\nwhat corresponds to severe burns, usually resulting in death. The\r\nadmiral and I both noticed Sanderson\'s nervous habit down in the\r\ngun-bank a while ago. The pitcher incident a few minutes ago proved to\r\nus that Sanderson was not a Terran. You men noticed how he shook and\r\npaled when the water splashed near him."\r\n\r\n"Then this isn\'t Sanderson at all?" McDaniels asked, his dark eyes wide\r\nwith wonder.\r\n\r\n"Our records indicate that a Lieutenant Vern Sanderson left Aldebaran\r\nII about three months ago to assist on the _Albion_ shake-down cruise.\r\nMy guess is that the real Sanderson met with foul play somewhere along\r\nthe way and this ... thing ... was substituted. The League knew that\r\nwar was coming. They also knew that the Federation has lately installed\r\nthe new Dyer gun and is in the process of installing the Bergesson\r\nHyper-drive in its capital ships. This critter was probably one of many\r\nsent to get those secrets. With them, victory for the League would be\r\nassured."\r\n\r\n"But why kill him? Why didn\'t you take him prisoner and find out what\r\nhe knew?"\r\n\r\n"For just one damned good reason," Harrigan answered. "These boys are\r\ntelepathic over short distances--the antennae have something to do\r\nwith that. If I hadn\'t taken him by complete surprise, he would have\r\nnotified his pals, if any, on this ship. And, if there should happen to\r\nbe a dozen or a hundred of these babies on board, we really would be in\r\nfor it. O\'Brien, arrange a watch on the mess hall. Have all hands who\r\ndo not take water with their meals reported. You and chief Scott will\r\nhave to call them in one at a time and give them the acid test."\r\n\r\nO\'Brien went off to arrange the mess hall watch and Harrigan sat down,\r\nheaving a great sigh, behind his desk. "Well, gentlemen," he said, "you\r\nhave seen the enemy. Or at least half the enemy."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," Rose responded, "but what about the Xantus, sir? I--we\'ve\r\nnever seen one of them."\r\n\r\nThe admiral shuddered inwardly. "I hope you never do," he confessed.\r\nAll the wretched memories of two galactic campaigns swept over him\r\nagain. "A Xantu looks like nothing more nor less than a beer barrel on\r\nskids, with a cauliflower for a head. Eight independently focussing\r\neyes, one for each of the tentacles that sprout from the middle of the\r\nchest. Get one of those monkeys behind a gun bank and you\'ll swear you\r\nhave a platoon facing you." Harrigan lit a cigarette, forked smoke from\r\nhis nostrils.\r\n\r\n"The Xantus don\'t do too much of the actual fighting, though. Back in\r\nthe early days of space conquest, they teamed up with the Ziths ...\r\nI imagine because the Xantus have a terrific technical culture but\r\nare few in number, relatively speaking, and the Ziths aren\'t great on\r\ntechnology but have the manpower. And too, their home systems are only\r\na few light-years apart. So far, the partnership has worked out very\r\nwell for the Dark Nebula League; the Xantus providing the brains, and\r\nthe Ziths the muscle. They are both ancient races, and very probably\r\ntheir plans for the conquest of this end of the Universe would have\r\ngone nicely if they hadn\'t run up against the Solar Federation, led by\r\nTerra. We stand smack across their path. It has come to the point now\r\nwhere it\'s us or them, absolutely...."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter the Sanderson episode was settled, Harrigan suddenly felt\r\ndrained and exhausted, and retired to his quarters. While he slept,\r\nO\'Brien, Chief Scott and his men rounded up four more Zith spies who\r\nwere immediately executed and unceremoniously dumped into the rocket\r\nchambers. On the double-check, a fifth was discovered cowering in the\r\ncaptain\'s life boat and he soon followed his brothers. The great ship\r\nplowed through the ink of space, and the only sounds were the muffled\r\nthrobbing from the rocket banks, the steady hum of the chronometer and\r\nthe clicking of the audio relay.\r\n\r\nAt 0500 hours the alarm gong clanged raucously. Harrigan was struggling\r\ninto his trousers as O\'Brien stuck his head in the door and shouted,\r\n"Jack! They\'ve cut us off!"\r\n\r\nThe captain explained the situation hurriedly as they sprinted toward\r\nthe bridge. "Port watch just spotted \'em. Three o\'clock, low, in an\r\narc. There\'s only seven of them, but apparently they\'ve taken Polaris\r\nBase and cut us off from Sector I."\r\n\r\nA series of muffled thuds was heard, and suddenly a succession of\r\nelectric, blue-white flashes from outside the ports turned the dimness\r\nof the passageway into intense, eye-straining brilliance.\r\n\r\n"Hot hell! We must have got us one," Harrigan roared, and the two men\r\nbroke into a run.\r\n\r\nIn the powerful bridge screens they could see the great cloud of smoke\r\nhanging in the void, where the League ship had been hit, and, coming\r\nthrough it, several more of the grim pursuers. Occasionally a beam of\r\nripping, ravaging energy would lick out towards the _Albion_, but the\r\nslim fingers of death fell shorter of their goal by the minute.\r\n\r\n"Well," Mike breathed in relief, "we can outrun them. But what now?"\r\n\r\n"Better set a course for Antares IV," Harrigan advised. "The\r\nmaintenance depot there can install the Hyper-drive in a few days and\r\nwe can make it back to Terra then regardless of what the League holds."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs soon as the _Albion_ was safely out of range of the League ships,\r\nthe two officers were joined on the bridge by Master Gunner Cliff\r\nIrvington. They discussed the narrow squeak for a few minutes. At\r\nlength Irvington punched out his cigar and confessed, "I could stand a\r\ndrink."\r\n\r\nTen minutes later they were seated in Harrigan\'s Spartan quarters over\r\na bottle of good Terran Irish whiskey and a flagon of Jovian Blongah.\r\nIrvington downed an heroic shot of the Jovian mixture, shivered, howled\r\nand grabbed for the pitcher of water which the orderly had placed on\r\nthe small table.\r\n\r\n"Of all the chicken drinkers," O\'Brien chaffed. "One little swig and\r\nhe\'s halfway under the table. Watch this, son, and learn from a master\r\nof the aht." Whereupon the Captain poured a water glass full of the\r\nvolatile brew and swallowed it without batting an eye.\r\n\r\n"Nuts," Cliff grunted. "I have to stay off the stuff for months at a\r\ntime. You birds on the bridge can swill from one side of the galaxy to\r\nthe other, but I\'ve got to watch my nerves. And how about that night in\r\nVenusport when I had you two guys reeling, the night before we got our\r\ncommissions?"\r\n\r\nHarrigan stifled a belch. "Only an idiot could drink that ook and stay\r\non his pins. What was it now? Oh yes, Thunderbolt cocktail. Two parts\r\nTerran vodka, one part Irish whiskey, gin, three raw eggs, nutmeg and a\r\njolt of Martian faylee. Cosmos! They say it made good rocket fuel in a\r\npinch."\r\n\r\nO\'Brien sat up, glass in hand. "Why don\'t we mix a batch right now?"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t see why not." Harrigan flipped the audio switch. "Stores.\r\nHanson? Send a man up with formula thirteen, will you?"\r\n\r\nWhen the supplies arrived a few minutes later, the three men indulged\r\nin an orgy of mixing and much testing, and, when the contents of the\r\nhuge bowl met their rigid specifications, sat around it and reminisced\r\nabout the early days in the Force.\r\n\r\nThe three might easily have personified the Solar Federation Space\r\nForce. Harrigan, the organizer par excellence, tall, lean and tanned\r\nby the radiation of a thousand suns. O\'Brien, the admiral\'s life-long\r\nfriend, squat and muscular--the fatherly but deadly Irishman who had\r\nhated the League with all his powerful heart since the day, dim in time\r\nbut not in memory, that the Xantus had murdered his parents on Sirius\r\nIII in the First Campaign. And Irvington, one of the truly fabulous\r\ncharacters in the Federation. The man who could reputedly hit a black\r\nbasketball at three million miles with an energy gun, who flunked out\r\nof pilot\'s school and turned gunner, and who, annually, spent his leave\r\nmining in the Solar asteroid belt and had become the richest man in the\r\nForce.\r\n\r\nThese men led the _Albion_ on its questionable course into the future.\r\nHuman, and therefore prone to human failings, to be sure. But wise in\r\nthe ways of space they were too, and aware of its terrible dangers.\r\n\r\nAt long last, when the ship\'s clock stood at 1100 hours, the party\r\nbroke up. Ash-trays were piled high, the magnificent punchbowl was\r\nempty. Irvington and O\'Brien left together, and Harrigan collapsed on\r\nhis bunk.\r\n\r\nIn his dreams he roamed the narrow streets of Mars Center, watched\r\nthe pale, reed-like dancing girls sway their sensuous bodies before\r\nthe open-mouthed Federation Cadets, and heard the far-off, haunting\r\ndesert music. He walked through the fairy cities of Zithobar where\r\nthe fragile, ethereal architecture belied the sadistic temperament of\r\nthe inhabitants. And he cruised the tainted stratosphere of the Xantu\r\nplanet, that dark and sinister world whose peoples enjoyed nothing more\r\nthan heaving Terran prisoners, one by one, into the mouths of roaring\r\nvolcanoes.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnaton, the Federation base on Antares IV, was six days at full blast\r\nwithout Hyper-drive. After the round of hectic activity surrounding\r\ntheir escape from Sector I, officers and crew alike found the\r\nuneventful trip restful but boring. O\'Brien played endless games of\r\nsolitaire; Irvington slept; and Harrigan planned. Anaton was the\r\nbiggest Federation base in Sector II, and the Hyper-drive was there.\r\nHe just hoped that the base itself was there yet. At 0300 hours on the\r\nsixth day, Antares shone like a great red eye and they were three hours\r\nout of base. Antares III swung slowly past and Harrigan alerted the\r\ncrew.\r\n\r\nThey didn\'t have long to wait. O\'Brien had just stacked his cards away\r\nwhen the starboard watch howled and three Xantu ships screamed across\r\nthe _Albion_ bow, almost on collision course. Harrigan\'s brow wrinkled\r\nas the tail ship dropped back to engage the _Albion_ and the other two\r\nfled. These were not the usual Xantu tactics. Irvington coolly got\r\nthe black craft between his sights, there was a whoosh and a blinding\r\nblast and four billion square miles of space flashed into daylight.\r\nThe _Albion_ quickly overtook the two remaining ships and gun-banks\r\nthree, four and five riddled one of them. It slowed, spun and became a\r\nlifeless, drifting shell.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: A blinding blast, and four billion square miles of space\r\nflashed into daylight....]\r\n\r\nBut the pilot of ship three was no fool. He suddenly swiveled his\r\nship, boomed off at a tangent, and, as the _Albion_ whipped by, his\r\ngunner caught her full in the tubes with a full charge from the stern\r\nguns. Now it was the _Albion\'s_ turn to spin end for end. But as the\r\nXantu craft spun into his sights for a fraction of a second, Irvington\r\ntripped the atomic cannon again. The bolt ricochetted off the Xantu\'s\r\nbow and the ship slowly split down the center like an over-ripe melon.\r\nFrom the bridge, Harrigan counted three life boats deserting the mother\r\nship and he watched the gunners vainly try to pick them off. But they\r\nwere too small a target, and they quickly merged into the sanctuary of\r\ndarkness.\r\n\r\nHe buzzed O\'Brien. "Let\'s get down to Drive, quick. They got that Xantu\r\nblast dead center."\r\n\r\nThe drive section was a shambles. Men in weird asbestos suits and masks\r\nstaggered through the smoke and fumes with the broken bodies of the\r\nrocket crew that had been caught in the explosion. Harrigan brushed at\r\nangry tears as they carried Joe Merrick--the officer in charge--past\r\nthem and laid the charred body beside the others. Merrick had been with\r\nhim through both campaigns, and now the bitterness within Harrigan\r\nturned to grim resolution. At length, thirty-seven men were counted out\r\nof action permanently. The admiral turned solemnly away.\r\n\r\n"Think we\'d better set her down on III?" O\'Brien asked quietly.\r\n\r\n"Guess so, Mike. We can take her down on anti-grav and maneuver with\r\nthe bow jets." And then, slowly, "This puts us out of the war, you\r\nrealize that...."\r\n\r\n"Yeah. And we can\'t even holler for help or they\'ll swarm in on us like\r\na pack of harpies."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know about that, Mike. Those boats that got away will probably\r\nalert other elements of the League fleet as to our location. It\'s only\r\na matter of time anyway. So we might as well break radio silence and\r\ntry to get some Federation ships here first. It\'ll be a race, but it\'s\r\nthe only chance we\'ve got."\r\n\r\nRadio room sent the S.O.S. and rang back the bridge almost immediately.\r\n"Message away, sir, but our receiver was knocked out by the blast. We\r\nget no acknowledgment on S.O.S."\r\n\r\n"Oh great," Harrigan groaned, "that\'s all we needed."\r\n\r\n"Maybe we could make Anaton on the bow jets," O\'Brien offered.\r\n\r\n"Doubtful. Besides, we don\'t want to chance being caught in space with\r\nthe _Albion_ in this shape. If my guess is any good, those three ships\r\nwere part of a fleet which has just attacked Anaton and by now the\r\nbase is probably a smoking hole in the ground. No point in going to\r\nsomething like that."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt took superhuman maneuvering and quite a bit of luck, but at last\r\nthe scarred battleship came to rest, in partial hiding, at the foot\r\nof a cliff wall on the rugged, boulder-strewn surface of Antares III.\r\nSpace Directory termed the planet "Earth-type; diam. 9,300; atmosphere\r\nbreathable for Terrans for a period not to exceed twelve hours."\r\n\r\nHarrigan had the portable Dyer guns arranged in a semi-circle at\r\nadvantageous spots behind boulders up to one mile from the _Albion_,\r\nin case the survivors of the League ships might set their boats down\r\nnearby and attempt a coup over land. The _Albion\'s_ own boats carried\r\nout patrols in the hope of locating the enemy before the enemy located\r\nthem.\r\n\r\nFor sixteen hours after the landing, everything was absolutely quiet.\r\nAnd then, as relief gun-crews slogged out the main hatch to take their\r\npositions at the portables, all Hell broke loose.\r\n\r\nA short range, explosive rocket shell arched perfectly into the hatch\r\nand exploded with a deafening roar, scattering the relief crews like\r\nten pins and slamming the two-ton hatch cover clean off its swivel\r\npins. The three League boats, with devastating surprise, zoomed in low\r\nand fast over the outlying gun positions, spraying a trail of Reezi\r\npowder which was ignited by their rockets. The countryside went up\r\nin a swirl and a flash. Another explosive rocket struck the _Albion_\r\namidships before the crews got the more cumbersome fixed guns into\r\nfiring position.\r\n\r\nThe lightning-fast boats were too small and swift to be speared by\r\nanything save a lucky shot. Back and forth they raked the almost\r\nhelpless battleship. The attack waned momentarily as one of the black\r\nboats was caught and instantly charred by cross-fire from the _Albion_\r\none and four banks. The remaining two changed tactics, roaring in over\r\nthe big ship, past the top of the cliff, only to spin back, hit and run.\r\n\r\nFive of the _Albion_ patrol boats skittered home only to be caught in\r\nthe fray and immediately knocked down. Three more met the same fate\r\nand a fourth was dodging desperately for its life when Harrigan\'s\r\neyes popped wide open with amazement. A pencil-like, silver destroyer\r\nescort, bearing the insignia of the Federation Forces, fell on the\r\nLeague boats from zenith position and in a screaming, twisting dive\r\nblasted one and rammed the other into flying rubbish.\r\n\r\nThe silver ship climbed a few miles vertically to see if the field had\r\nbeen properly cleared, flashed down and dusted to a stop beside the\r\n_Albion_. Harrigan stepped over the smoking bodies in the main hatchway\r\nand dropped to the ground. O\'Brien sprinted to join him, but before\r\nthey could reach the other ship, an officer leaped from a belly-lock\r\nand walked briskly towards them.\r\n\r\nHe snapped a salute. "Admiral Harrigan and the _Albion_?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Right, Lieutenant," Harrigan smiled wearily. "You\'re very welcome."\r\n\r\n"Lieutenant Sanderson, sir, Third Fleet attack arm. I was supposed...."\r\n\r\n"Sanderson," O\'Brien roared.\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. I was assigned to the _Albion_, sir, but it took me ten\r\nweeks to walk halfway around Pluto from where the Ziths dumped me and\r\ncatch a ship to Terra base. I take it they dubbed one of their beasties\r\nin for me?"\r\n\r\n"They sure did," Harrigan answered, "but there wasn\'t much harm done. I\r\nkilled you on the bridge, Lieutenant."\r\n\r\n"Oh?" Sanderson looked puzzled for a brief moment, then smiled. "Oh,\r\nthat\'s good."\r\n\r\n"What\'s the score now?" O\'Brien asked.\r\n\r\n"Well, sir, the Third attack fleet is standing off Anton now. You have\r\nprobably guessed that part of a League fleet attacked the base. We\r\npicked up a few survivors, but damned few. Then we picked up a weak\r\ndistress signal from this area and Admiral Brands had us check on it."\r\n\r\n"Good thing he did," Harrigan admitted. "And now, Lieutenant, if you\r\nwill be so good as to radio for a tub to pick us up, I will be most\r\nhappy to leave this planet."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir, at once." Sanderson saluted and ran for his ship.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThree hours and a few odd minutes later, the transport tub _Avalon_\r\nsettled its ponderous bulk beside the _Albion_ and the slow transfer of\r\nthe living and the dead began. One hundred and fifty-five bodies were\r\nslated for burial on Terra; another sixty were missing, whiffed into\r\ngas by League guns.\r\n\r\nHarrigan sank deeper into gloom as he removed the ship\'s log and\r\nhelped O\'Brien check the men off the _Albion_. At last the loading\r\nwas completed; the _Avalon_ hung for a moment on its anti-gravs, and\r\nHarrigan and Commander Johnson, in charge of the tub, looked down on\r\nthe battered remains of the great craft.\r\n\r\n"Better come to the bridge and sit," Johnson said softly.\r\n\r\nOn the bridge, he poured Harrigan a stiff drink and cautioned, "Swallow\r\nthat, and get ready."\r\n\r\nHarrigan complied, puzzled. No sooner had he placed his glass on the\r\ntable than a small but virile mule kicked him in the stomach.\r\n\r\n"Suffering ... what was that?" he gasped.\r\n\r\nJohnson smiled. "Hyper-drive. Apparently Tech hasn\'t got the bugs\r\nworked out yet, but it\'s good enough for me. Only four hours to Terra."\r\n\r\n"Well, well," Harrigan mused. He rose and looked at the swirling\r\ngrayness outside the ports. "Same deal on the other end?"\r\n\r\n"Yeah. A little wrench in the gut, but you get used to it."\r\n\r\nHarrigan said, "Well, well," again and sat down.\r\n\r\n"Admiral," Johnson hesitated, "no offense, now, you understand, but I\r\nhave been wondering what the _Albion_ was doing way out here on Antares\r\nIII. I understood that you were coming into Terra from the other side\r\nof Sector I when the fracas started."\r\n\r\n"We were. But when the League took Polaris Base and cut us off we had\r\nto...."\r\n\r\n"Took Polaris Base! The League didn\'t take Polaris Base. They had a\r\ndozen or so cruisers in that area, but they didn\'t tackle the Base.\r\nDidn\'t even make a pass at it."\r\n\r\nHarrigan slowly dropped his head into his hands.\r\n\r\n"Oh my God," he moaned, "and I lost two hundred men on a bad guess. I\r\ndeserve to be broken to a Spaceman third class for this." He jumped up\r\nand paced the bridge. "Great guns, what a fool I am! Polaris intact and\r\nI risk a ship-load of green men on a bad guess. This washes me up in\r\nthe Force, that\'s for damn sure."\r\n\r\n"Oh, I don\'t think so, Admiral." Johnson smiled. "In fact I think\r\nthat...."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t give a damn what you think, Commander. The Force is no place\r\nfor fools. I\'m done." And Harrigan slammed off the bridge towards his\r\nquarters.\r\n\r\nJohnson smiled faintly and poured himself a drink.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was a tired and bedraggled admiral who stepped off the _Avalon_\r\nfour hours later into the sunlit bustle of Terra Base I. He felt pride\r\nwell up in him at the sight of the powerful base, the battlewagons\r\nand cruisers and squat tubs, some with their guts spread on the steel\r\ndocks, waiting for the \'drive installation. Crane winches clanked and\r\nhowled, welding torches flashed, and many-wheeled trailers sped about\r\nwith ponderous equipment. But the activity was not frantic; it was\r\nefficient and orderly.\r\n\r\nHe turned for a word with O\'Brien, who was now puffing down the\r\ngangway, when a bright young Spaceman First stepped up and saluted with\r\na grin. "Admiral Garrison\'s regards to Admiral Harrigan and Captain\r\nO\'Brien, and would they report to HQ at once."\r\n\r\n"Well, here it comes, Mike."\r\n\r\n"Guess so," Mike agreed gloomily. "Why are all these baboons so happy?"\r\nHe indicated the clustered groups of Spacemen who regarded them\r\nsmilingly as they passed and talked excitedly among themselves.\r\n\r\n"Dunno. Maybe they like the thought of admirals and captains getting\r\nchewed down."\r\n\r\nThey paused briefly outside the door marked:\r\n\r\n Adm. Garrison,\r\n G.G. Port Admiral\r\n\r\nO\'Brien shrugged. "Here goes nothin\'."\r\n\r\nInside, the tall, balding man behind the desk jumped to his feet with\r\na grin. "Jack! Mike! Boy, you two guys certainly beat anything I ever\r\nsaw. Talk about your heroes...."\r\n\r\n"Cut it, George," Harrigan growled, "you don\'t have to rub it in."\r\n\r\n"Rub what in? Great Caesar, hasn\'t anyone told you yet? You guys won\r\nthe war, that\'s all!"\r\n\r\n"Yeah. On the seat of our pants at Antares III," O\'Brien muttered.\r\n\r\n"But I\'m telling you, damnit!" Garrison came around the desk and\r\nclapped them on the shoulders. "Those League ships you brought down\r\nwere heading for home with the Hyper-drive secret. And you stopped\r\nthem."\r\n\r\nSlow and stunning realization dawned on the two officers. O\'Brien gave\r\na long, low whistle and sank in his chair. Harrigan broke into a slow\r\ngrin.\r\n\r\n"What a deal!" Garrison rubbed his hands. "What a deal. You guys will\r\nget promotions out of this or my name isn\'t George Garr...."\r\n\r\n"But what the hell happened?" Harrigan demanded.\r\n\r\n"Like this," Garrison explained. "Three League ships picked up spies\r\njust off Anaton. They had the Hyper-drive papers. Then they threw a\r\nDuodec bomb into the Base and high-tailed. The _Albion_ was the only\r\nFederation ship of any size left in commission in the area. You got\r\nthem. Just before the last League ship went down, it beamed a message\r\nto Zithobar, which we intercepted. So the Third attack arm swung\r\nover quick to see what the trouble was. Then we got your S.O.S. and\r\nwent after you before the League could get back for a little of its\r\nwell-known vengeance."\r\n\r\n"Now, what the devil?" Harrigan rubbed his chin, grinning. "Is the war\r\nover, then?"\r\n\r\n"Not altogether, but it\'s just a matter of mopping up now, and fixing\r\nZithobar and the Xantu planet once and for all. The Third and Seventh\r\nattack arms are completely equipped with the \'drive and the Second is\r\njust about ready to roll. Brother, are those babies surprised when we\r\npop out of nowhere into the middle of their formations and burn them\r\ndown before they can aim a gun ... but if _they_ had hooked onto the\r\n\'drive secret, it would have been all day for the Federation!" Garrison\r\nthrew back his head and roared with laughter. "You birds ... with a\r\ngreen crew--" he held his sides--"with a tub full of greenies you win\r\nthe war. And by accident yet. Oh Lordie ..." he sat down to catch his\r\nbreath.\r\n\r\n"Well ... I\'ll ... be ... a ..." Harrigan shook his head.\r\n\r\n"Yeah. I\'ll be one too," O\'Brien muttered.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE DARK NEBULA ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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"John Harper's Insight"

'Purcell, Dick'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of John Harper\'s Insight\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: John Harper\'s Insight\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Dick Purcell\r\n\r\nRelease date: June 29, 2021 [eBook #65729]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN HARPER\'S INSIGHT ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nJohn Harper\'s Insight\r\n\r\nBy Dick Purcell\r\n\r\nCan the mind breach time? Harper was sure\r\nhe had caught a news item that would change his\r\nlife. Ironically he caught only a part of it....\r\n\r\n[Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\nImagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\nOctober 1956\r\nExtensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThey thought he was insane. And with good reason. Here was a man who\'d\r\nspent his life in a machine shop coming down one morning to say in all\r\napparent sincerity, "I\'ve decided to be a concert pianist."\r\n\r\nJan Grabowski, on the turret lathe grinned and said, "Sure, John.\r\nThey\'ll bring in a grand piano and you can practice between cuts."\r\n\r\n"They laughed when I sat down to the piano," someone bellowed and there\r\nwas general laughter and the thing was forgotten.\r\n\r\nBut later, when he told the boss he was quitting, they looked at each\r\nother in amazement. He\'d evidently gone mad and that was no laughing\r\nmatter because they liked John.\r\n\r\nSam Paine, harassed plant manager still found time to be human. When he\r\ndiscovered John was serious, he sat down and gave him half an hour,\r\nfiguring he could find the quirk and straighten the man out. As they\r\nwent to his office, he swiftly classified his employee: John Harper--33\r\nyears old--introverted--intelligent over and above his job. Harper\r\nseemed to be without ambition, though and Sam wondered about this but\r\nhad never had time to talk with him much.\r\n\r\nAfter the half hour was up, Paine sighed and let him go. Obviously the\r\nconcert pianist gag was a coverup for something else--some fancied\r\nwrong--perhaps plain restlessness.\r\n\r\nAlone, Paine went back over the conversation, intrigued by John\r\nHarper\'s strange determination.\r\n\r\n"This talk about being a concert pianist is a gag of course, isn\'t it,\r\nJohn?"\r\n\r\n"No, Mr. Paine."\r\n\r\n"But man--you\'re too old to start a thing like that. You never in your\r\nlife studied music did you?"\r\n\r\n"No, sir."\r\n\r\n"Then let me tell you--first, in a thing like that, you\'ve got to have\r\ntalent. Have you got talent?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know."\r\n\r\nIt had seemed ridiculous, seriously pinpointing things that should have\r\nbeen obvious. "Well let\'s say you have--just for argument\'s sake. All\r\nright--talent has to be caught early and nourished--like a seed--get\r\nwhat I mean? A man can\'t start at your age and get any place in a game\r\nthe experts started in at eight or nine--as children."\r\n\r\n"You may be right, Mr. Paine, but maybe that doesn\'t apply to me. Maybe\r\nit does, of course, but I\'ve got to find out."\r\n\r\nSam Paine gave up. He told John Harper his job would be waiting when\r\nhe wanted it again--even gave him an extra week\'s pay, but that was to\r\nsalve his conscience because he felt he should bring in a psychiatrist\r\nat company expense to see what had gone wrong with Harper. Then he\r\nshrugged and put the thing out of his mind. Funny things happen in this\r\nday and age, he thought.\r\n\r\nThe trouble was he didn\'t really know John Harper. No one did. A\r\nbachelor, Harper lived alone, thought alone--and suffered alone. He\r\nhated the futility of his life, the work he was doing, the passing of\r\nunfulfilled days and nights. He felt a strong pull of destiny he could\r\nneither explain nor deny; an unreasoning certainty that he, John Harper\r\nwas meant for better things; or perhaps a single better thing.\r\n\r\nHe lived with this certainty while the unfulfilled days and nights\r\npiled up. Until the misery became a pain and possibly demanded some\r\nsort of recognition by its very existence.\r\n\r\nAt any rate, the morning of the day he quit his job, he had just\r\nawakened to the old familiar dread of the day ahead; a dread almost\r\nakin to a physical sickness. He was sure he did not go back to sleep,\r\nbut he clearly saw, on the floor within range of his eyes, a television\r\nset. The picture was bright and clear--a famous newscaster with the\r\nsmile known from coast to coast and the rat-tat-tat voice that was his\r\ntrademark.\r\n\r\nHe was beginning his broadcast with the standard opening line: "_And\r\nnow, folks--what\'s been going on in the world? John Harper, the great\r\nconcert pianist--the man who brought long-hair music into the home--the\r\nman loved by millions, will--_"\r\n\r\nThe voice and the image vanished. Then the set faded, and John Harper\r\nlay tense in the bed in his shoddy little room. But a different John\r\nHarper now. In an instant he became a dedicated man knowing he had been\r\nbuilding up to this moment for years.\r\n\r\nThis was the incident Sam Paine did not know of; nor did anyone except\r\nJohn Harper himself. He had a little money saved up--a few hundred\r\ndollars--and he went straight to a music school. His difficulty was\r\nthat he could not camouflage his ambition--or rather his intent--and\r\nafter stating exactly what he proposed to do, he was turned down by\r\nfive reputable maestros in a row.\r\n\r\nSo he gave up seeking instruction and rented a piano. He was\r\nfortunately situated in that his room lay at the back of the resident\r\nhotel where he lived and the walls were as thick as the building was\r\nold and shoddy looking.\r\n\r\nHe bought some instruction books at a second hand store and went to\r\nwork. He practiced, plowing doggedly through the intricacies of the\r\nnotes and scales until his money ran out. Then he got a job washing\r\ndishes and practiced all night.\r\n\r\nUntil he was able to present himself again at a music school where the\r\nmaestro was, fortunately, both honest and possessed of a conscience.\r\nHis honesty said, send this man away. But John Harper had just enough\r\npathetic skill and foggy talent that the instructor\'s conscience\r\ndictated the final policy.\r\n\r\n"I will teach you," he said. Adding to himself, _It will be an act of\r\ncharity. Nothing more._ He would have been astounded, however, had he\r\nknown that four short months before John Harper had not known even the\r\nscale.\r\n\r\nJohn told no one this. He told no one anything. But he applied himself\r\nto the piano with a single-mindedness that made a fanatic seem\r\nchangeable as the wind by comparison.\r\n\r\nAnd soon, Professor Heinrich, he of the conscience, was confronted with\r\nsomething he could not understand. Genius was blooming and functioning\r\nbefore his eyes.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe rest is history. It is told in hushed tones how this sad-faced,\r\nmiddle-aged man with no background--he was called "The Man From\r\nNowhere," by certain romantically inclined critics--gave his first\r\nrecital in New York City. It was given exactly seven years from the day\r\nhe told Sam Paine, "I\'m quitting to become a concert pianist."\r\n\r\nThe television networks found him quickly and he rocketed to fame by\r\ngiving classical music an interpretation that made it understood and\r\nloved by millions.\r\n\r\nIt was said that John Harper gave more musical pleasure to the world in\r\nhis brief two-year career than had any other genius in a natural span.\r\n\r\nBut of course, the seven years had taken their toll. The punishment of\r\nlearning would have killed a far younger and stronger man than John\r\nHarper. So, after a tragically brief time at the top of his ladder,\r\nJohn Harper was the subject of a newscast.\r\n\r\nBy a famous newscaster with the smile famous from coast-to-coast and a\r\nrat-tat-tat voice that was his trademark.\r\n\r\nBut not smiling as he finished his first item. 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'No time for Toffee!'

'Farrell, Henry'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of No time for Toffee!\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: No time for Toffee!\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Henry Farrell\r\n\r\nRelease date: July 27, 2021 [eBook #65931]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NO TIME FOR TOFFEE! ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n NO TIME FOR TOFFEE!\r\n\r\n By Charles F. Myers\r\n\r\n Life was Marc\'s oyster, but: subversives\r\n had shot him--a ghost was ready to haunt his\r\n corpse--and Toffee was loving him to death!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n July 1952\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n_Just as he stepped to the microphone Marc caught sight of the swarthy\r\nman. He saw the red scar across the left eyebrow, the dull flash of\r\nmetal in the large hairy hand. By then it was too late even to cry out.\r\nIn the next instant the glass panel in the control booth shattered._\r\n\r\n_Marc felt an explosion of hot pain deep inside his chest. He was aware\r\nof looking around dumbly at Dick Drewson and seeing Drewson\'s face\r\nregister shocked disbelief. Then the scene--the room, Drewson and the\r\nothers--disappeared, engulfed in a blinding sheet of flame--and Marc\r\nknew he was falling...._\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSomewhere, in a place where time and space didn\'t exist, grey mists\r\nbegan to seeth and swirl, and withall there was an ominous rumbling.\r\nThe High Council was almost in session.\r\n\r\nIn a sense, the High Council was already in session, for the Heads of\r\nthe Council had developed their intellects to such an inconceivable\r\ndegree that when a meeting of the Council was imminent they could\r\nsend their thoughts on ahead of them and get the meeting under way\r\neven before putting in an appearance. There was an exchange of views\r\nand information long before the Heads accomplished the mundane and\r\ntroublesome business of materialization. Thus it was that the mists\r\nof Limbo now rumbled with thought, counter thought and--on this\r\nparticular occasion--downright aggravation, even before the arrival\r\nof the Supreme Head in the vapored chambers. There was an air of\r\nforeboding.\r\n\r\nHaving declined all vanities in the pursuit of the Ultimate\r\nIntelligence, the Heads had allowed themselves to evolve into literal\r\nrepresentations of their titles. Directing all their energy and\r\ndevelopment to the brain and its encasement, their bodies had suffered\r\nproportionately so that now they were little more than a group of\r\npreposterously large craniums, shaggy with cerebration, bearing faces\r\nweighted with the ponderous woe of Life, Death, Eternity and other\r\nsuch mental ballast. Five in all, they made up a company to be avoided\r\nwhatever the cost.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe Supreme Head cleared his throat and Eternity rattled with phlegmy\r\ndiscontent. Baleful glances were exchanged all around.\r\n\r\n"Well," said the Supreme Head, after a pause for attention. "I suppose\r\nyou all know the reason for this meeting by now?"\r\n\r\nThe Second Head, a bald party with large ears, nodded sadly. "You say\r\nthis blighted Pillsworth has gone and got himself shot this time?"\r\n\r\n"Precisely," the Supreme Head affirmed. "In a broadcasting studio, if\r\nyou please. There\'s simply no keeping that man out of trouble."\r\n\r\n"But why should we want to keep him out of trouble?" the Third Head, an\r\nelongated customer with eye pouches, wanted to know. "That\'s hardly our\r\nresponsibility."\r\n\r\n"There\'s George Pillsworth," the Supreme Head said fatefully. "Surely\r\nyou haven\'t forgotten about George?"\r\n\r\nA hush fell over the Council, a hush of horror.\r\n\r\n"Not George again?" the Second Head shuddered. "We don\'t have to face\r\nhim again, do we?" He looked around beseechingly at the others. "After\r\nall, Pillsworth\'s only injured, isn\'t he? He\'s not dying?"\r\n\r\nThe Supreme Head looked for a moment as though he wished he had\r\nshoulders so he might shrug them hopelessly. "The vibrations are\r\nconfused again," he sighed. "I don\'t know what the interference is\r\naround Pillsworth, but the call never comes through clearly. All we\r\nknow is that he\'s gotten himself into another mess of some sort and is\r\neither dead or dying."\r\n\r\n"It seems that the subversives are still strongly active in the\r\nUnited States, and of course Pillsworth couldn\'t stay out of it like\r\na good citizen. He was approached by some men delegated by government\r\nauthority to take control of national advertising. The theory was that\r\nAmerican advertising could be used as a strong combative propaganda\r\nweapon against the enemy propaganda already circulating through the\r\ncountry. A committee was delegated to secure the cooperation of the\r\nnation\'s leading advertising agencies. Naturally, since Pillsworth is\r\nthe nation\'s leading advertising executive, they contacted him first."\r\n\r\n"Then Pillsworth is a subversive?" the First Head enquired. "That\'s how\r\nhe got into trouble?"\r\n\r\n"Not at all," said the Supreme Head. "That\'s just it. Pillsworth wasn\'t\r\nsubversive, but the government committee was."\r\n\r\n"Eh?"\r\n\r\n"Exactly. It turned out that the program was one of the cleverest\r\npropaganda schemes ever devised. Actually, their aim was to insert\r\nalien ideals into the nation\'s advertising."\r\n\r\n"But you said the plan had government approval."\r\n\r\n"That\'s the really clever part of it. The method of presentation, while\r\nseeming on the surface to denounce the foreign creed and uphold the\r\nAmerican one, actually was designed to win support for the enemy. The\r\nsales psychology employed was of the negative."\r\n\r\n"Negative?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s correct. It\'s the old principle of telling people they don\'t\r\nwant a thing until they develop a feeling of defiance and decide they\r\nare going to have it. It\'s an extremely subtle approach, but almost\r\ninfallible if properly developed. Knowing this, these men had a perfect\r\nplan, so subtle that even the government didn\'t recognize it. Also,\r\nthey had help from within. A certain Congressman Entwerp pushed through\r\nthe legislation."\r\n\r\n"But Pillsworth saw through it?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Instantly," the Supreme Head nodded. "It was a principle he had been\r\nusing assiduously for years, in fact the very one through which he\r\nachieved his success. The whole plot was as clear as a May morn the\r\nmoment he heard it. That\'s when the trouble started. He contacted\r\nCongressman Entwerp."\r\n\r\n"Oh, dear!"\r\n\r\n"Indeed. Entwerp responded by holding Pillsworth up to ridicule."\r\n\r\n"But Pillsworth had logic on his side."\r\n\r\nThe Supreme Head smiled tolerantly. "That\'s the Earth for you every\r\ntime," he said. "Show a human a bit of logic and he gets truculent on\r\nthe spot. Pillsworth was denounced as a witch hunter and instructed\r\nunder penalty of law to cooperate to the fullest."\r\n\r\n"Shocking," the Third Head said. "I begin to feel sorry for this\r\nPillsworth."\r\n\r\n"Pillsworth was similarly shocked. But he didn\'t feel sorry for\r\nhimself. Despite his inclination for the quiet conservative life, he\r\nfought back."\r\n\r\n"Good," the Fourth Head put in. "I\'m glad; it gives the story zip."\r\n\r\n"My thought in telling you this," the Supreme Head said caustically,\r\n"is merely to inform, not entertain."\r\n\r\n"Sorry, sir."\r\n\r\nThe Head nodded acknowledgment. "But to get on, Pillsworth presented\r\nhis case to a news broadcaster and asked to be allowed to recite his\r\nstory to the nation in the interests of national security. He was shot.\r\nBy whom we do not know; the fellow got away. But the fact we must hold\r\nin mind is that he definitely was shot."\r\n\r\n"Then it really is serious," the Third Head said. "We may have to\r\ninterview this deadly George after all."\r\n\r\n"It\'s unavoidable," the Supreme Head sighed. "There\'s no way around\r\nit."\r\n\r\n"But we\'re not positive Pillsworth is dead yet. Couldn\'t we wait and be\r\nsure?"\r\n\r\n"His vibrations have been broken," the Supreme Head said. "Actually we\r\nhave no cause to hesitate." He sighed. "I suppose we might as well get\r\nit over with."\r\n\r\nThe others nodded in reluctant agreement. There was an oppressive\r\nsilence.\r\n\r\n"But didn\'t we banish George?" the First Head said. "We must have after\r\nhis last excursion to Earth."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," the Second Head agreed. "I remember distinctly. He\r\nattempted to fire poor Pillsworth off into outer space without a\r\npressure suit. We banished him to the Void to sing bass in the Moaning\r\nChorus."\r\n\r\n"We certainly picked the right party for the job," the First Head\r\nreflected. "There isn\'t a more base spirit in all Limbo. Has he been\r\nsummoned?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe Supreme Head coughed regretfully. "I issued the call through\r\nMessage Center before I announced the council."\r\n\r\n"Oh, dear," the First Head murmured, "then the stinker is practically\r\non the sloop at this very moment."\r\n\r\n"The stinker is crossing the sloop even now," the Supreme Head amended,\r\nhis gaze fastened hauntedly on a disturbance in the outer mists. "Here\r\nhe comes."\r\n\r\n"Secure your valuables," the Second Head said morosely. "And keep your\r\nhands in your pockets."\r\n\r\nHesitantly, under the unblinking disapproval of the Council, George\r\nmaterialized. As the Council watched, a duplicate of Marc Pillsworth\'s\r\nlong, lean body, made vague by misted robes, rose solidly out of the\r\nmoiling vapors. It grew to full stature, rounded out at the shoulders,\r\nextended a neck, then stopped short of the head. There was an expectant\r\npause, but nothing further developed.\r\n\r\n"The rotter\'s ashamed to face us," the First Head observed sourly.\r\n\r\n"Little wonder," the Third Head muttered. "After the way he\'s blotted\r\nthe haunting profession, he hasn\'t got a leg to stand on."\r\n\r\n"George Pillsworth," the Supreme Head intoned with exasperation,\r\n"spiritual projection of the mortal entity, Marc Pillsworth, approach\r\nthe Council. And put on your head, you fool."\r\n\r\nGeorge stirred, and his head, working from the chin upward,\r\nmaterialized, revealing the face of Marc Pillsworth. All in all, as\r\nfaces go, Marc\'s--and consequently also George\'s--hit very close to\r\naverage. It was a nice face, a pleasant face, for all its lack of\r\ndistinction. On George, therefore, it was a misleading face. With its\r\nlean plainness, its serious grey eyes and its shock of sandy hair,\r\nit failed utterly to express even a whit of George\'s unprincipled\r\ntemperament.\r\n\r\n"Is that better, sir?" George asked, edging warily forward.\r\n\r\n"Hardly that," the Supreme Head groused. "The less of you the better.\r\nHowever it helps us somewhat to get a clue to the inner festerings of\r\nthat depraved mind of yours." He gazed at George for a long, reflective\r\nmoment, then made a sad, clucking sound. "I simply cannot imagine\r\nwhat Marcus Pillsworth must have thought when he discovered that his\r\nspiritual entity was a tacky, ebony-hearted, feather-headed wretch like\r\nyou. Why aren\'t you more like your mortal source?"\r\n\r\nGeorge shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I\'m just no damn good," he\r\nmurmured.\r\n\r\n"You flatter yourself," the Supreme Head said. "You\'re much worse than\r\nno damn good. You\'re simply awful. I wonder if Limbo will ever live you\r\ndown."\r\n\r\n"I hope so, sir," George said contritely.\r\n\r\n"Nevertheless," the Supreme Head went on, "much as I loathe it, I\r\nsuppose we must get on with it. I suppose you know why you\'ve been\r\nsummoned?"\r\n\r\nGeorge nodded dimly. "They reported me for teaching the Moaning Chorus\r\nto syncopate."\r\n\r\n"What!" the Supreme Head gasped. "You did _what_?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGeorge looked up, afrighted; he\'d given himself away again with no\r\nneed. "Yes, sir," he sighed resignedly, "I thought that if we got up\r\na good hot act we might be able to wangle a few guest shots with the\r\nCelestial Choir. Actually, we\'ve worked out a really sock arrangement\r\nof the _Wham Bam Blues_. I\'m sure that if you heard it...."\r\n\r\n"No!" the Supreme Head roared. "You _couldn\'t_! Of all the\r\nunmitigated...!" He stopped and waited for his spleen to subside.\r\n"George Pillsworth," he said, "you are insufferable."\r\n\r\n"I suppose so, sir," George said. "However my intentions...."\r\n\r\n"Blast your intentions!"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. I\'m very sorry."\r\n\r\n"Never mind. In that case it\'s probably just as well that things are as\r\nthey are. It\'ll be a great relief to be rid of you."\r\n\r\n"Rid of me?" George said fearfully. "You aren\'t going to...?"\r\n\r\n"Unfortunately, no," the Supreme Head sighed. "What I mean is that your\r\nmortal part, Marc Pillsworth, has got himself shot."\r\n\r\nGeorge looked up sharply. His whole aspect changed; his eye brightened;\r\nhis entire being grew more alert. "I\'m to be sent to Earth as a\r\npermanent haunt? Oh, sir...!"\r\n\r\n"Hold it!" the Supreme Head snapped. "Don\'t go into a spring dance.\r\nThere\'s a hitch."\r\n\r\n"Oh," George said, but his eagerness was not noticeably dampened.\r\n\r\nTo George, the merest prospect of a visit to Earth was only to be\r\nregarded with rapturous anticipation. To him that distant world of\r\nmortals was a place of boundless and exquisite attraction. It was made\r\nup in equal parts of liquor, women and larceny and anything else that\r\nexisted there was merely the result of these things brought together in\r\nodd combination. For George, Earth was absolutely the last gasp.\r\n\r\nOf course George had never achieved the ultimate accomplishment of\r\nestablishing permanent residence on Earth, for on all of his previous\r\nvisits he had arrived only to find that Marc was still alive and that\r\nhe could not legitimately remain. If on these occasions, George had\r\ndone his level best to rectify this error with whatever murderous means\r\nat hand, it did not imply that the ghost held any personal animosity\r\nfor Marc. It was simply that George\'s was the sort of temperament which\r\nboggled at almost nothing to achieve its end.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the catch?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be flip," the Supreme Head admonished. "And stop syncopating."\r\n\r\n"Syncopating?" George asked innocently. "I\'m standing perfectly still."\r\n\r\n"It\'s your mind," the Supreme Head said. "It\'s jogging about like a cat\r\non hot bricks. It shows all over you. This is an occasion of enormous\r\nseriousness."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGeorge did his best to assume an expression of profound sobriety.\r\n"Yes, sir," he murmured.\r\n\r\n"First of all," the Supreme Head continued, "as usual there is some\r\nquestion as to Pillsworth\'s actual status. He has been shot, it\'s true,\r\nand his vibrations are definitely broken. However, experience has\r\ntaught us to be wary in the case of Pillsworth. Often we have acted\r\non false alarms in the past and have been sorry." The Head paused\r\nand beetled his brow. "Of course we need not have regretted those\r\nerrors had you behaved yourself at all in the manner of a decent,\r\nself-respecting shade. Nevertheless, we don\'t dare take a chance\r\ndespite our reluctance in the matter. Pillsworth\'s wound falls into the\r\nmortality class, so we have no alternative but to issue you your travel\r\norders and the usual allotment of ectoplasm." He fixed George with an\r\nunhappy stare. "And get that look of evil delight off your face."\r\n\r\n"Sorry, sir," George said.\r\n\r\n"And make up your mind right now that this is a business trip. If\r\nPillsworth is not dead or definitely dying when you arrive you will\r\nreturn instantly. Do you understand?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"And if he isn\'t dead or dying you will do nothing to alter this state\r\nof affairs. You will not undertake on your own initiative to shove him\r\noff tall buildings, under moving trucks or into open manholes. You will\r\nnot threaten him with ropes, guns, explosives, rare poisons or knives,\r\nor attempt to dispatch him to heaven by means of rocket. Have you got\r\nall that straight?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," George said quietly. "Hands off. I understand."\r\n\r\n"I hope you do," the Head said ominously, "for your own sake. Anyway,\r\nI suppose you\'d better go along now and start checking out through\r\nSupply. All that\'s left here is for you to raise your right hand and\r\nswear by memory to the Ten Commandments of the Hunter\'s code. However,\r\nI suppose you\'ve got them all cribbed on the sleeve of your robe."\r\n\r\nGeorge lowered his gaze. "Yes, sir," he murmured. "I have."\r\n\r\n"Then skip it," the Head sighed resignedly. "Just clear out."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," George said, brightening. "Thank you, sir."\r\n\r\nAs the mists swirled up around George, and he gradually dissolved into\r\ntheir vaporish currents, a joyous grin lighted his face....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThree sets of eyes fastened clinically on the X-ray with worried,\r\nprofessional interest.\r\n\r\n"There\'s a slight chance," the first doctor said, "if we operate\r\nimmediately."\r\n\r\n"Too slight," the second murmured. "The bullet\'s too close to the\r\nheart. He\'ll die on the table."\r\n\r\n"He\'ll die anyway. We\'re merely taking the only chance there is."\r\n\r\n"I suppose so. Has his wife arrived yet?"\r\n\r\n"She\'s with him now."\r\n\r\n"He\'s not conscious, is he?"\r\n\r\n"No, certainly not, but they could not keep her away."\r\n\r\n"We\'d better explain how it is. We\'re almost certain to lose him."\r\n\r\n"I suppose so."\r\n\r\nThere was a pause before they turned and reluctantly left the room.\r\nOutside, in the hospital corridor, the first doctor proceeded to the\r\ndoor at the end of the hall while the other two stayed behind. He\r\nopened the door and quietly stepped inside.\r\n\r\nMarc lay still on the bed, his pleasant face drawn and pale against the\r\npillow. Julie sat beside the bed, a classic figure of silent grief, her\r\nblonde beauty drained with uncomprehending fright. She did not cry. Nor\r\ndid she move as the doctor walked toward her from the door.\r\n\r\n"Mrs. Pillsworth ..." the doctor said, but Julie remained motionless.\r\nHe moved closer to her and placed his hand gently on her shoulder.\r\n"We\'ve just seen the X-ray." At this Julie looked up. "We\'ll have to\r\noperate instantly. The preparations are being made now." He paused.\r\n"The chances for success are negligible."\r\n\r\nJulie nodded dazedly. "I know," she whispered. "I know...."\r\n\r\nShe did not resist as the doctor took her arm and guided her to the\r\ndoor. At the last moment, though, she paused and looked back at the\r\nlean face on the pillow.\r\n\r\n"He looks so peaceful," she said. "He looks so content. Does a dying\r\nman ever dream, doctor?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEven Marc himself could not have fitted a positive answer to Julie\'s\r\nquestion. Did he dream? Or had he merely retreated from the world to a\r\nrealm of absolute reality? He didn\'t know himself.\r\n\r\nHe remembered passing through caverns of roaring darkness, only\r\nto be caught up by a tongue of searing flame and hurled into some\r\nobscure dimness where it seemed that all the thought, melody, all the\r\nremembered sensation of a lifetime writhed about him like vague forms,\r\none interposed upon the other, in unpatterned confusion.\r\n\r\nBut now these entangled vagaries faded away and suddenly he found\r\nhimself sitting on a green slope at the outer perimeter of a grove of\r\ngraceful trees. A blue mist drifted lightly up the far rise to soften\r\nthe horizon. Marc was no stranger to this place for he had visited it\r\noften. He felt no dismay at finding himself again in the valley of his\r\nown mind. Indeed, through the last few years, it had become as familiar\r\nto him as his own home or office. So had the redheaded minx who found\r\nher existence there.\r\n\r\nMarc stirred and looked around. The landscape was uninhabited. No\r\nlovely, lightly clad figure appeared on the horizon, no lithe form\r\nemerged from the groves and ran toward him.\r\n\r\nMarc frowned anew over the improbable fact of Toffee. Certainly\r\nshe existed in his mind, a constant and consistent product of his\r\nimagination. That was perfectly easy to understand. The parts of it,\r\nthough, that he never quite got used to were her periods of existence\r\noutside his mind, in the world of actuality.\r\n\r\nWhat Marc had never been able to really comprehend was that his mind\r\ncould project into the physical world a physical being--to such an\r\nextent that her existence was not only apparent to himself but also to\r\neveryone else who came within the radius of the mental vibration which\r\nproduced the girl.\r\n\r\nThe question in Marc\'s mind, then, was whether Toffee really existed,\r\nwas truly real, or whether she was merely an hallucination, a sort of\r\ncontagious hysteria.\r\n\r\nToffee\'s personality always got in the way of the answer. The girl was\r\ninfinitely distracting, from the pert aliveness of her quick green\r\neyes to the full redness of her lips. Beyond that there was the almost\r\nshameful perfection of her supple young body. These things blocked\r\nanalytical thought. Then, too, there was her unerring instinct for\r\nroaring, bounding madness, and her absolute contempt for the logical,\r\nthe moral or the conservative. Toffee, in brief, was at once brash,\r\nembarrassing, impetuous, warm, high-handed, endearing, maddening and\r\ncompletely unforgettable. So to all practical purposes, then, she was\r\nreal; the matter of Toffee\'s source was pallidly unimportant next to\r\nthe vivid fact of Toffee herself.\r\n\r\nMarc stretched luxuriously and got to his feet, but as he did so he\r\npeered around toward the green obscurity of the forest. There was still\r\nno movement, no sound. He frowned quizzically. This wasn\'t at all\r\nusual. Always before Toffee had been there to greet him almost at the\r\ninstant of his arrival. Another time she would be swarming all over him\r\nby now.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe shrugged and started aimlessly up the rise. At first he climbed\r\nunhurriedly, but as he drew nearer the trees his gait quickened. At the\r\noutskirts of the forest he found himself pausing to listen, but there\r\nwas no sound. The feathery branches swayed in silent grace before him.\r\nA small concern began to trickle into his mind.\r\n\r\nThe blue mists broke smoothly before his stride as he entered the cool\r\nenclosure of the forest. Again he paused.\r\n\r\n"Toffee...?" he found himself calling.\r\n\r\nThere was no answer.\r\n\r\nHe shoved ahead, and now there was a sort of anxiety in his step, and\r\nhe took care not to break the stillness lest Toffee answer. An odd\r\nfeeling of bereavement came over him, though he told himself it was\r\nfoolish. After all, the girl was entirely imaginary, and a pack of\r\ntrouble into the bargain. Then suddenly he stopped.\r\n\r\nAn odd murmuring seemed to come from the left. He moved in that\r\ndirection, stopped to listen, then hurried on. Ahead he saw a dim\r\nlightness sketched through the trees, a suggestion of a clearing\r\nobscured by the dense branches. He approached it, parted the foliage\r\nand looked out. He stopped short.\r\n\r\nToffee sat in the middle of the clearing, her legs folded under her.\r\nHer eyes were closed and one slender hand was pressed to her forehead\r\nin an attitude of labored concentration. Her slight tunic, an emerald\r\ntransparency at best, did little to conceal the impertinent perfection\r\nof her figure. She was leaning forward just a bit, and her flaming hair\r\nhung loose over her shoulders. She seemed to be chanting something to\r\nherself, though Marc couldn\'t make it out.\r\n\r\n"Toffee...?" he said, and stepped forward to brace himself against the\r\ninevitable rush of brash affection.\r\n\r\nThe girl opened her eyes and looked around hastily.\r\n\r\n"Sit down somewhere," she said, "and be quiet."\r\n\r\n"Huh?" Marc asked.\r\n\r\nToffee didn\'t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes, swayed back lightly\r\non her shapely haunches and began the muttered chant anew.\r\n\r\nMarc swayed a trifle himself, with astonishment--and perhaps a tinge of\r\ndisappointment. This wasn\'t like Toffee at all, not by a long shot. He\r\nmoved slowly to her side and gazed down at her intent, upturned face.\r\n\r\n"Toffee...?" he hazarded.\r\n\r\nShe didn\'t open her eyes. Her lips moved. "Molecules," she said.\r\n\r\n"What?" Marc asked.\r\n\r\n"Molecules," Toffee repeated. "Molecules ... molecules...."\r\n\r\n"Molecules?" Marc said. "What are you talking about?"\r\n\r\nToffee opened her eyes at this and looked up at him with anxious\r\nirritation.\r\n\r\n"Please be still," she said. "I\'ve got to think about molecules\r\nexclusively. It isn\'t helping any, your gabbing away in my ear."\r\n\r\n"But why?" Marc asked. "What about molecules?"\r\n\r\n"Everything depends on them, that\'s all," Toffee said impatiently.\r\n"Now, just...."\r\n\r\n"But wait a min--!"\r\n\r\n"Quiet," Toffee said. "Don\'t you realize that you\'re tottering on the\r\nbrink of death at this very moment? Me, too, for that matter."\r\n\r\n"Death?" Marc asked. "What are you talking about?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nToffee looked at him aghast. "Don\'t you remember?" she asked. "Have you\r\nactually forgotten about being shot in the studio?"\r\n\r\nMarc stared down at her in growing horror. A small, agonized memory\r\nscreamed out of the dark inner shadows of his awareness.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Lord!" he cried. "I\'m dying!"\r\n\r\n"And if those licensed butchers get to hacking you up, you\'re a goner,"\r\nToffee said anxiously. "I have the inside information. There isn\'t much\r\ntime. I\'ve got to concentrate like wild."\r\n\r\n"But...!"\r\n\r\n"Quiet!" Toffee broke in. "Please be quiet," she closed her eyes again\r\nand her lips began to move as before. "Molecules," she murmured.\r\n\r\nMarc remained rigid at her side. Panic rose inside him and filled his\r\nthroat. His impulse was to turn and run blindly--perhaps back to that\r\ndying mortal body--but his terror held him transfixed. Staring down at\r\nToffee, he felt he might go mad in the next moment. In the next moment\r\nhe was certain he had.\r\n\r\nJust in front of Toffee, close to the mossy greenness, he caught sight\r\nof a quick flicker of light, a strange disembodied illumination that\r\nwas at once its own source and product. As he watched it flickered\r\nagain, grew brighter and became a steady radiance. He glanced back at\r\nToffee, but her face had become fixed and masklike. Her lips no longer\r\nmoved.\r\n\r\nThe radiance grew swiftly, to an almost unbearable brightness. In it\r\nthere was a cold hard suggestion of metal. Then it began to take form\r\nand solidify. Marc blinked as the thing, whatever it was, grew slowly\r\nout of the gleaming brilliance.\r\n\r\nFirst a cylinder emerged, about a foot long and four or five inches in\r\ndiameter. For a moment the object seemed to have completed itself,\r\nbut then, one at either end, a pair of funnel-shaped openings emerged.\r\nThese completed, a small, two-way switch arrangement appeared at the\r\ntop and in the center of the cylinder. After that, the radiance was\r\ngone and only the strange instrument remained, lying on the grass\r\nbefore Toffee as though cast there by a careless hand.\r\n\r\n"What--!" Marc gasped.\r\n\r\nToffee\'s perky features relaxed. She opened her eyes.\r\n\r\n"Did it turn out all right?" she asked brightly. "Is it finished?"\r\n\r\n"Huh?" Marc asked. He pointed. "You mean _that_?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, wonderful!" Toffee cried, delighted. "It\'s rather pretty the way\r\nit shines, isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"What is it?"\r\n\r\n"How should I know?" Toffee said blandly. "Just a gadget. There\'s never\r\nbeen one before."\r\n\r\n"You mean you just developed it out of your mind?"\r\n\r\n"Sure," Toffee said. "It\'s a thought product--like me. Now if it only\r\nworks right...." Picking up the instrument, she looked at it carefully\r\nand nodded with satisfaction. "It should be simple to operate."\r\n\r\n"But what\'s it for?"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll show you," Toffee said. She pointed to a nearby tree. "See that?"\r\nMarc nodded. "Keep looking at it."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nTurning to the tree, she held the cylinder toward it, so that one of\r\nthe funnels was aimed squarely in its direction.\r\n\r\n"Now watch," she said, and pressed the switch.\r\n\r\nMarc, staring at the tree in rapt attention, started with surprise.\r\nSuddenly the tree was gone with no sign that it had ever been there.\r\n\r\n"What...!"\r\n\r\n"The next part is more important," Toffee said.\r\n\r\n"Next part?" Marc said dazedly. "But where is it? Where...?"\r\n\r\n"See there?" Toffee said, and this time she pointed to the center of\r\nthe clearing. "Watch."\r\n\r\nHolding the cylinder so that the opposite end was pointed to the\r\nclearing, she pressed the switch in the other direction. Instantly the\r\ntree shot into being exactly at the spot she had indicated.\r\n\r\nMarc stared. It was the same tree--the one that had disappeared--and\r\nyet it was subtly different. It seemed greener now, more alive.\r\n\r\n"What happened?" he asked. "What did you do to it?"\r\n\r\n"Molecules," Toffee said, smiling. "I broke it down into molecules,\r\nthen projected it again. The machine absorbed the tree in molecules,\r\ncompressed them, reconstructed the faulty or destroyed ones, eliminated\r\nall harmful matter and retained the count to reestablish it in perfect\r\nbalance and health. It worked fine."\r\n\r\n"My gosh!" Marc said.\r\n\r\nDrawing close to him, Toffee twined her arms around his neck with\r\nknowing deliberation and drew his surprised face down close to hers.\r\n\r\n"I\'m going to save your stodgy life with molecules, you skinny old,\r\ncare-worn wraith," she breathed. "Then you\'ll be in my pay for the rest\r\nof your days. Just keep it in mind later when things begin to happen."\r\n\r\n"Huh?" Marc said. "What things?"\r\n\r\n"You\'ll see," Toffee said. "Wow!"\r\n\r\nMarc drew himself up stiffly. "Now, look here," he said sternly, "you\r\ncan just get this wow business right out of your head...."\r\n\r\n"And if that doesn\'t work," Toffee said, "I\'ve been studying hypnotism.\r\nI can transfix a snake at fifty yards." She brushed her cheek lightly\r\nagainst his. "Just think of that, you scaly old reptile."\r\n\r\n"Just a second," Marc said. "If you think for one sec--"\r\n\r\nBut the sentiment was lost as Toffee renewed her hold on his neck and\r\nkissed him warmly and at considerable length on the mouth.\r\n\r\n"That," she whispered, "is just a token payment in advance. Just wait\r\ntill the mortgage comes due!"\r\n\r\n[Illustration: TOFFEE]\r\n\r\n"Why, you little hussy...!" Marc wheezed. "You haven\'t the moral sense\r\nof a brickbat!"\r\n\r\nHe stopped short, for suddenly the forest had begun to darken and a\r\nsharp wind came alive in the trees. He glanced around, startled, as the\r\nearth began to tremble beneath them. Instinctively, he whirled about,\r\nlooking for an escape from the forest, but suddenly, with a groan of\r\ndismay, the world went black, and he was only aware of Toffee\'s arms\r\nclosing tight about his neck....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe orderly was a pale, antiseptic type. And he was resentful. Wheeling\r\nMarc along the hallway toward Surgery, he looked down at the drawn face\r\nbeneath him with a twinge of pique. He strongly resented the fact that\r\nthe face was not behaving at all as the face of a true corpse-elect\r\nshould.\r\n\r\nAccording to the orderly, a dying man had no right to twitch and\r\nflutter his eyelids the way this one was doing, let alone showing signs\r\nof coming completely to life. It made the orderly nervous and upset.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: MARC PILLSWORTH]\r\n\r\nFor a moment the orderly almost succumbed to an impulse to walk off\r\nand leave the patient to shift for himself. It was what he deserved if\r\nhe was going to act that way. Nonetheless, he remained. Consequently,\r\nMarc\'s first vision, upon returning to consciousness, was of a pale,\r\nfretful face with white eyelashes and thin lips. He had expected\r\nsomething better.\r\n\r\n"Who are you?" he asked weakly. "Are you the doctor?"\r\n\r\nThe orderly shook his head sullenly. "I\'m the orderly. The doctor\'s\r\nwaiting."\r\n\r\n"They mustn\'t operate," Marc murmured. "I\'ll die...." He stopped as a\r\npert face suddenly blurred into view just behind that of the orderly.\r\nA slender hand brushed back a wayward lock of red hair. Toffee smiled\r\nand winked.\r\n\r\nMarc moaned. "Oh, so it\'s you, is it?" he sighed. "What are you so\r\nhappy about? I feel awful."\r\n\r\n"I\'m not happy, sir," the orderly said, mystified. "I\'m not happy\r\nat all. In fact, if you want the truth...." He paused, and the\r\napprehensive expression of one who detects an unseen presence behind\r\nhim overtook his face. Very slowly, he turned around.\r\n\r\nIt would be difficult to say what the orderly expected to find behind\r\nhim: a fanged reptile might have made a good guess, a slavering fiend\r\nanother. It is certain, however, judging from his reaction, that on the\r\nlist of things he did not expect to find, a scantily clad redhead was\r\nnumber one. Toffee, her legs crossed to perfection, the cylinder-like\r\ngadget under her arm, sat jauntily on the edge of the cart, smiling a\r\nbright greeting. The young man leaped backwards and froze in a transfix\r\nof amazement.\r\n\r\n"Auk!" he exclaimed.\r\n\r\nToffee turned to Marc. "Is he doing a bird imitation?" she asked.\r\n"Should I applaud?"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be funny," Marc said feebly. "I feel terrible."\r\n\r\n"I know," Toffee said. "I got here just in time."\r\n\r\n"For what?" Marc asked apprehensively. "What are you going to do?"\r\n\r\nToffee patted the cylinder. "I\'m going to save your life," she said.\r\n"Don\'t you remember?"\r\n\r\nMarc looked at her through heavy lids. "That\'s silly," he murmured.\r\n"Just go \'way and let me die in peace."\r\n\r\nUnmindful, Toffee leaped lightly to the floor, stood back and aimed the\r\ngadget at Marc. "All set?" she said.\r\n\r\n"Here!" the attendant said, suddenly recovering the faculty of speech.\r\n"What are you doing?"\r\n\r\n"Advancing medical science a mile a minute," Toffee said. "Don\'t\r\ninterrupt."\r\n\r\n"But...!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nToffee placed her hand menacingly on her hip and fixed the young man\r\nwith a steely eye. "Am I going to have to deal with you?" she asked,\r\n"Or are you going to button your lip like a good child?"\r\n\r\nThe orderly spoke no further.\r\n\r\nToffee raised the cylinder, sighting the length of Marc\'s lean,\r\nsheet-covered body. Then she pressed the switch.\r\n\r\nThe orderly stared, wide-eyed, and repeated his bird imitation. The\r\nplace where Marc had lain was suddenly as bare as a banquet board after\r\nthe feast. Where a moment before there had been a long thin man, now\r\nthere was only a long, thin sheet.\r\n\r\n"Hey!" the orderly bleated. "Ho!"\r\n\r\n"So long, phrasemaker," Toffee said, and tucking the cylinder under\r\nher arm, moved off quickly down the hall and around the corner.\r\n\r\nIt was just as the orderly observed the last flirt of Toffee\'s hip that\r\nthe doctor appeared from the door of the operating room and looked\r\ndistractedly in his direction.\r\n\r\n"Good grief, man!" he said, "haven\'t you brought Pillsworth with you?"\r\n\r\nThe orderly started nervously and looked around.\r\n\r\n"He ... he ... he...!" he gibbered. "That is, she ... she...!" He\r\npointed in hopeless confusion down the hall.\r\n\r\n"What are you babbling about?" the doctor enquired shortly. "Where is\r\nPillsworth?"\r\n\r\n"He.... He\'s gone, sir!" the attendant blurted.\r\n\r\n"Gone?" the doctor said. "Where did he go?"\r\n\r\nThe orderly looked away down the hall. "There was this girl, see ...\r\nshe had red hair and a can...."\r\n\r\n"Now, just a minute, orderly," the doctor said measuredly. "If you\r\nthink you can distract me with the depressing details of your sex\r\nlife...."\r\n\r\n"But you don\'t understand! She was holding this thing ... and she told\r\nme to shut up ... and then Mr. Pillsworth wasn\'t there any more. That\'s\r\nthe truth!"\r\n\r\n"Let me impress it upon you," the doctor said, "that this is a very\r\nserious incident. I can\'t imagine how a half-dead patient managed to\r\nget away from you, but you\'ll find him instantly and deliver him to\r\nsurgery if you know what\'s good for you. Meanwhile, I\'ll have the alarm\r\nsent out to all the wards and offices. I hope you realize that your\r\ncarelessness has undoubtedly cost the patient his last chance for life.\r\nWithout the slightest doubt I can pronounce Marc Pillsworth dead right\r\nnow."\r\n\r\nAs the doctor spoke these last words, a small gust of wind--or at least\r\nwhat could easily have passed for a small gust of wind--eddied around\r\nthe corner at the end of the hall. It was this slight disturbance which\r\nmarked the arrival of George on Earth.\r\n\r\nAt the sound of the doctor\'s voice, the ghost stopped, listened, then\r\nclasped his hands together in a transport of joy. He had arrived just\r\nin time to receive the happy news! Marc was dead and he, George, had at\r\nlast secured his permanent residency on Earth. Out of sheer exuberance\r\nthe delighted spectre let out a little moan of delight.\r\n\r\nThe orderly, who was watching the doctor gloomily out of sight, turned\r\nsharply.\r\n\r\n"Mr. Pillsworth?" he quavered thinly. "Mr. Pillsworth, please...?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMeanwhile Toffee had progressed busily along the corridors of the\r\nhospital in search of some private--and preferably secluded--place\r\nin which to reconstruct Marc. Finally, rounding a corner, she found\r\nherself abreast of a pair of swinging doors and started toward them.\r\nShe stopped, however, and turned in retreat as the doors suddenly\r\nparted and a doctor and nurse, deep in conversation, came into view.\r\nShe started back the way she had come, but was stopped again by an\r\napproaching nurse pushing an elderly female patient in a wheel chair\r\nflanked on either side by a crutch. Looking for an avenue of escape,\r\nToffee spotted a white linen screen against the wall and darted quickly\r\nbehind it to bide her time till the traffic had subsided.\r\n\r\nThis ruse, on the face of it, hadn\'t a flaw and should have worked\r\nlike a charm. It should have that is, if Toffee, in her haste, hadn\'t\r\nplumped against the wall and unknowingly pressed the button of the\r\ngadget.\r\n\r\nThe result of this little accident was that the doctor and the nurse\r\napproaching from one direction, and the nurse and the patient coming\r\nfrom the other--all four of them suddenly found themselves confronted\r\nby a tall, thin man standing bewilderedly in the center of the hall\r\nwith nothing to grace his long frame but an extremely brief linen shift\r\nloosely attached at the back. Toffee had released Marc into reality and\r\ngood health, but costumed only for the operating table.\r\n\r\nNo one was more acutely aware of this deficiency than Marc himself.\r\nLooking around unhappily at his stunned beholders and taking in his\r\nslight coverage all in a single glance, he was taken with a seizure of\r\nshocked modesty. Hunkering down into a squat he clutched the hem of his\r\ngown desperately to his knees.\r\n\r\n"My word!" the elderly patient said, leaning forward in her chair.\r\n"What in the world does that man think he\'s doing!"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t like to think," the nurse said, looking away. "It\'s bound to\r\nbe something disgusting."\r\n\r\n"Here you!" the doctor called from the other end of the corridor. "You\r\ncan\'t do that! Why are you crouched down in that obscene way?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m naked!" Marc wailed. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I\'m\r\ndownright exposed!"\r\n\r\n"There\'s no reason to whisper about it," the doctor said nastily. "We\r\ncan all see."\r\n\r\n"Oh, my gosh!" Marc cried. Looking around for a retreat, his frantic\r\ngaze fell on the screen. Still in a squat, he hobbled swiftly toward it.\r\n\r\n"Look at him!" the patient cried, rising slightly in her chair. "Here,\r\nyou! Stop doing that, for heaven\'s sake! You look like an ailing duck!"\r\n\r\n"That\'s nothing to what I\'d look like if I stood up," Marc panted in\r\none last sprint for the screen. "That would be worse."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was not until this point in the proceedings that Toffee began to\r\nrealize what had happened. Listening to the voices in the hall, it had\r\nstruck her that one of them had a dreadfully familiar ring to it. It\r\nwas much to her dismay that, in peering around the edge of the screen,\r\nshe suddenly found herself practically eyeball to eyeball with Marc.\r\nShe let out a small, strangled cry.\r\n\r\n"Oh, my gosh!" she said.\r\n\r\n"For Pete\'s sake, let me in there!" Marc said.\r\n\r\n"But how did you get out there?"\r\n\r\n"How should I know? Never mind that, let me in. They\'re all _looking_!"\r\n\r\n"At what?"\r\n\r\n"I shudder to think. Please let me in!"\r\n\r\n"But why are you all doubled up like that?"\r\n\r\nTired of words, Marc reached up to the screen to pull it away so he\r\ncould get behind it. Unfortunately, it was at this same instant that\r\nToffee decided to shove it open to make room. With their combined\r\nefforts, the screen buckled, folded, teetered and fell, cracking Marc\r\nsolidly on the head. The next moment found him in an unconscious sprawl\r\non the floor. The area behind the screen was starkly deserted. The\r\nobservers crowded in swiftly to see what had happened.\r\n\r\n"Good God!" the doctor cried, staring down at Marc. "It\'s Pillsworth,\r\nthe man they\'re looking for in Surgery!"\r\n\r\n"Is he dead?" the nurse asked.\r\n\r\nThe doctor shook his head. "He\'s breathing. Run and call an orderly to\r\ntake him along instantly. Hurry!"\r\n\r\nAs the nurse hurried off, the elderly patient removed one of the\r\ncrutches from the side of her chair and passed it experimentally\r\nthrough the vacant area beyond the screen. She shook her head in\r\nperplexity.\r\n\r\n"By golly," she said, "I could have _sworn_ he was talkin\' to somebody\r\nback there."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhile this untimely denouement was rounding out in the hallway, a mad\r\ndrama of another sort was beginning to ferment in the Pharmacy.\r\n\r\nOlliphant Gunn, the rotund and habitually foggy keeper of the dopes\r\nand drugs, had been watching it for several minutes; there was trouble\r\nbrewing in the Salts and Syrups--trouble of a most mysterious and\r\nupsetting nature. The containers, for all the world as though they had\r\nsuddenly been endowed with some idiotic life of their own, had begun to\r\nshift about all by themselves. Watching a jar of salts hurl itself to\r\nthe floor and splash its contents out in a whitish mess, Olliphant Gunn\r\nconcluded definitely that there was some sort of flimflam afoot.\r\n\r\nThis conclusion was stoutly strengthened as he witnessed the progress\r\nof his private bottle from its hiding place amongst the medicants to\r\na position in mid-air in front of the shelves. Olliphant began to\r\nquiver about the dewlaps. He quivered even more as the bottle uncapped\r\nitself, tilted upward and emptied a noticeable portion of its contents\r\ninto--into absolutely nothing at all!\r\n\r\nOlliphant fell back in his chair, slack of jaw, and it is doubtful, had\r\nanyone been able to apprise him of the truth of the matter, that he\'d\r\nhave felt any better about it. To a man in his cups, as Olliphant was,\r\nthe news does not come lightly that he is in the company of a thirsty\r\nghost, with an unerring nose for whiskey, and a predisposition for\r\ncelebration.\r\n\r\nOlliphant watched in bleary disbelief as the bottle repeated the\r\ntilting and emptying process. Then his mood began to change. Regardless\r\nof what this obviously demented bottle thought it was up to, it had\r\nno right to deplete his private reserves in this callous fashion. The\r\nslack jaw of Olliphant Gunn hitched itself up and became firm.\r\n\r\n"Stop that!" Olliphant roared. "You stop that right now, damnit!"\r\n\r\nFor a moment the bottle wavered, as though startled, then defiantly\r\nupended a third time and brought the level of the coveted liquor down\r\nstill further. Quite as though to rub salt in the wound, it burped with\r\ngrandiose satisfaction.\r\n\r\n"Damnation!" Olliphant gasped. "I\'ll teach you, you blathering bottle!"\r\n\r\nHeaving his considerable bulk up out of his chair, he hurled himself\r\nbodily toward the object of his wrath.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe laws of nature, however, were against Olliphant from the very\r\nbeginning. As the bottle darted out of his reach, sheer momentum\r\ncarried him headlong into the dim reaches of Salts and Syrups. Gravity\r\ndelivered him along with a quantity of gummy liquid and gritty\r\ncrystallines to the floor. Settled in a sticky puddle of wreckage,\r\nOlliphant glanced around with a reddish, enraged expression. Besides\r\nsalt and syrup, there was blood in his eye.\r\n\r\nAt a distance sufficiently out of reach, yet insultingly near, the\r\nbottle was bobbing about amusedly. Indeed, Olliphant distinctly heard a\r\nsoft chuckling sound coming from its direction. With a jungle roar he\r\nsurged up from the floor and launched a second attack. This netted him\r\nanother disastrous collision, this time with the glassware department.\r\nThe Pharmacy was swiftly being transformed into a scene of chaos.\r\n\r\nIn the interval, the bottle had retreated to a position by the\r\ndoorway and was humming maddeningly to itself. Suddenly it burst into\r\nfull-throated song.\r\n\r\n"Goin\' to Louisiana," it warbled, "for a case of good whis-kee! Goin\'\r\nto Louisiana with a hussy on mah knee!"\r\n\r\nOlliphant settled himself sadly on an untidy mound of rubble and began\r\nto brood. There was no use denying it; the thing was just too much for\r\nhim. As he watched the bottle bob back and forth in time with the\r\nidiot song, a large tear trickled down his cheek. Olliphant Gunn was\r\njust a broken reed in the holocaust of Life, and his ruination had come\r\nabout through a mere mad bottle. The man began to blubber hopelessly.\r\n\r\nIt was during this heart-rending climax that the nurse, a small blonde,\r\nappeared at the doorway and stared into the pharmacy with large\r\nwondering blue eyes.\r\n\r\nThe invisible George, who had been enjoying his own singing to the\r\nutmost, stopped at the sight of the newcomer in mid verse. Things, he\r\ndecided, were beginning to look up. Warmed by the liquor, George was\r\ndazzled and enchanted.\r\n\r\nUnfortunately the nurse was neither of these. Striding through the\r\ndoor, she stepped into a trickle of syrup and skidded dangerously\r\ntoward Olliphant. George, feeling that things were moving in the wrong\r\ndirection entirely, seized upon the floundering blonde with one deft\r\nswoop of his invisible arm and lifted her to dry ground. It was a\r\nmoment before he was able to account for the girl\'s shrill screams.\r\n\r\nA period of stupefied silence followed as the nurse glanced around\r\nsuspiciously. As a girl who, in line of business, had experienced\r\nconsiderable traffic with men, she was disposed to know to the exact\r\nmoment when she had been forcibly clutched by a masculine hand. Also,\r\nwhich only made matters worse, she was a girl who knew where she had\r\nbeen clutched and why.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn looking around for masculine hands available for clutching, a quick\r\nsurvey told the nurse that the room inventoried two and both of them\r\nwere the exclusive property of Olliphant Gunn. Geographically it seemed\r\nimpossible that either of these hands could have performed the recent\r\nclutching, but in her anger the nurse was not the one to quibble over\r\ndetails. Seizing up a large crystal beaker she unhesitatingly smashed\r\nit to splinters on Olliphant\'s skull with one smart whack. Olliphant\r\nlooked up through his tears.\r\n\r\n"What you wanna do that for, lady?" he sobbed.\r\n\r\n"You know what for," the nurse gritted, looking around for further\r\nammunition. "And that\'s only the beginning. If you ever...." She\r\nstopped as she suddenly encountered the floating bottle. Instinctively,\r\nor perhaps out of sheer surprise, she grabbed for it. At any rate, it\r\nwas not until she had gotten a grip on the thing that she realized that\r\nthis was a bottle not properly on the up and up. This fact was brought\r\nhome to her even more clearly when the bottle refused to budge in her\r\ngrasp and even showed a definite tendency to pull away.\r\n\r\nFor a long moment the nurse merely stared at the bottle with a\r\nwondering gaze. Then slowly an expression of determination came into\r\nher pretty face. Squaring her stance, she took hold of the offending\r\ncontainer with both hands.\r\n\r\n"It\'s no use," Olliphant said from the floor. "That bottle\'s mean."\r\n\r\nHeedless, the nurse braced herself and tugged with all her strength.\r\nThe bottle gave by a foot, then lurched drunkenly in her grasp. Down on\r\nthe floor the rivulet of syrup became disturbed, as though feet were\r\nchurning through it desperately seeking to regain lost traction.\r\n\r\nSuddenly the bottle gave way and the nurse toppled backwards into\r\nOlliphant\'s lap. Olliphant received this new burden with resignation\r\nand a grunt. Across the room, however, there was another sound, as of a\r\nbody coming in swift contact with the floor.\r\n\r\n"Damn!" the nurse said hotly, turning to Olliphant. "Keep your big\r\noafish hands off me! Stop reaching."\r\n\r\n"I\'m only reaching for the bottle," Olliphant said. "It\'s mine."\r\n\r\n"It didn\'t feel like it," the nurse retorted. "It felt more like...."\r\nShe hesitated as from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a\r\nlong body sprawled on the floor. At first glimpse it seemed that the\r\nbody had no head, but as she looked more closely she saw that it did,\r\nthough she had the peculiar sensation that it had just come into being.\r\nHanding Olliphant the bottle she got to her feet and approached the\r\nprone figure. Noting that it was dressed for surgery, she stood staring\r\ndown at it quizzically for a moment.\r\n\r\n"Holy smoke!" she breathed. "It\'s Pillsworth!" She turned to Olliphant.\r\n"Come on and help me. We\'ve got to get him down to Surgery right away!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMarc felt himself rising through the last shredded mists of\r\nunconsciousness. He tried to open his eyes but a glaring light made the\r\nattempt too painful.\r\n\r\n"Give him the anaesthetic," a voice said close by.\r\n\r\nPanic pulsed through Marc\'s body. They were going to operate! Necessity\r\ngave him a surge of strength and he sat up, staring wildly at the three\r\ndoctors gathered over him.\r\n\r\n"No!" he said. "Don\'t! I\'m all right!"\r\n\r\n"Lie down, Mr. Pillsworth," the doctor nearest advised. "Just lie down\r\nand it will all be over with in a minute."\r\n\r\n"But I\'m all right!" Marc said desperately. He glared around at the\r\nnurse holding the mask for the anaesthetic. "Get away from me!"\r\n\r\n"Hysteria," the doctor said. "Quite understandable after what he\'s been\r\nthrough. He\'ll have to be restrained."\r\n\r\nThe other two nodded in agreement. Watching Marc closely, they took up\r\npositions on either side of him. The first doctor moved to a place at\r\nMarc\'s feet.\r\n\r\n"When I give the signal," he whispered, "we\'ll all grab at once."\r\n\r\n"I heard that!" Marc yelled. "Stay away from me, you croakers, or\r\nI\'ll...!"\r\n\r\n"Okay!" the doctor cried. "Grab!"\r\n\r\nThe scene over the operating table, for a moment thereafter, was a\r\nliving abstraction in flailing arms and legs. Though Marc managed at\r\none point to insert his thumb into the eye of the first doctor and his\r\nfoot into the mouth of the second, the odds were too great against him.\r\nIn the end he found himself pinioned helplessly to the table.\r\n\r\n"All right, nurse," the doctor said, "fit the mask to his face. As soon\r\nas the body\'s relaxed...."\r\n\r\n"You leave that body alone," a pert feminine voice said tartly. "That\r\nbody happens to belong to me, for what it\'s worth, and I don\'t want it\r\ntampered with. I particularly don\'t want it relaxed. I want it alert\r\nand twitching in every fibre, and if you don\'t leave it alone I\'m going\r\nto lay into the bunch of you bare fisted!"\r\n\r\nA tense silence overtook the group around the operating table. The\r\ndoctors looked at each other, then turned to observe the dismaying\r\nredhead who had mysteriously appeared just behind them.\r\n\r\n"How did you get in here?" the first doctor said uncertainly.\r\n\r\n"I\'m the owner of that body you are flinging about there," Toffee said\r\nhotly, shifting the gadget under her arm and placing a hand on her hip.\r\n"That body\'s mine right down to the last molecule and I\'ve come to\r\nfight for it if I have to."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMarc sat up under the relaxed grips of the doctors, his face scarlet.\r\n"Why do you have to go around telling people things like that?" he\r\nasked plaintively.\r\n\r\n"I could put it another way," Toffee said. "Dirtier. For instance...."\r\n\r\n"No!" Marc cried. "It\'s dirty enough already."\r\n\r\nThe doctor turned to Marc. "Who is this woman?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know," Marc lied quickly. "I\'ve never seen her before in my\r\nlife. Why don\'t you throw her out of here?"\r\n\r\n"Why, you lying old ingrate!" Toffee flamed. "For two cents I\'d climb\r\nup there on that table and perform a few operations of my own!"\r\n\r\n"Madam!" Marc said distantly, "whoever you are, do you really think you\r\nought to take on in public in this brazen way?"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll take you on in public, no holds barred, you thin-nosed phony,"\r\nToffee gritted. "You don\'t know what brazen is yet!"\r\n\r\nThe doctor turned to the nurse. "Call the orderlies and have this woman\r\nremoved," he said. "And have them give her a blanket or something to\r\nwear. We can\'t delay the operation another moment. I\'ll give the\r\nanaesthetic myself."\r\n\r\n"Hey!" Marc yelled. "Toffee...."\r\n\r\n"Go ahead, doctor," Toffee said with evil satisfaction. "Rip him open.\r\nSlit him from ear to ear and top to bottom. I won\'t lift a finger."\r\n\r\n"No!" Marc cried. He turned to Toffee in panic. "It\'ll mean the end of\r\nboth of us!"\r\n\r\n"Pardon my girlish laughter," Toffee said. "It\'s worth it, dogmeat,\r\nto see you get yours after the way you\'ve treated me. Either you fork\r\nover that lanky frame of yours, or you\'re going to be out of frames\r\nentirely. That\'s the way it stacks up."\r\n\r\n"Do you have to be so vulgar about it all?" Marc asked weakly. "With\r\nall this talk about bodies and frames, I\'m beginning to feel like just\r\nso many soup bones displayed on a counter."\r\n\r\n"That\'s exactly the parallel I\'ve been searching for," Toffee said\r\ncomplacently. "In fact if there\'s anything vulgar in all this, it _is_\r\nyour body. Come to think of it, it suddenly strikes me as so vulgar I\'m\r\nno longer interested in it."\r\n\r\n"Please!" Marc cried as the doctors gripped him to the table. "Use that\r\ngadget of yours--anything! Please!"\r\n\r\n"Sorry, son," Toffee said. "I guess you\'ll remember after this never to\r\nforget a lady\'s name."\r\n\r\nMarc looked up and saw the mask bearing down toward his face. "Toffee!"\r\nhe yelled. "For Pete\'s sake!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe mask miraculously paused in its descent, stopped. The action around\r\nthe table came to a sharp halt. Eyes swiveled toward the door. Marc\r\nturned on his side just in time to observe Olliphant Gunn lumbering\r\ninto the room under the weight of George\'s upper quarters.\r\n\r\nThe nurse, her blonde hair in a state of dishevelment, followed bearing\r\nthe feet and legs. Arriving at a position inside the door, they\r\ndeposited their burden on the floor where it instantly curled over on\r\nits side and emitted a sodden snore.\r\n\r\n"It\'s Mr. Pillsworth," the nurse said breathlessly, shoving back her\r\nhair. "We brought him straight down without waiting for the orderlies."\r\nShe looked up into the stunned faces staring back at her from around\r\nthe table. Then her gaze fell to Marc.\r\n\r\n"My God!" she gasped.\r\n\r\n"Good Lord!" Marc groaned, taking in the stupid, smiling face of George.\r\n\r\n"Jesus!" breathed the doctor.\r\n\r\n"Amen," Toffee put in glibly. "Who\'s taking up the collection?"\r\n\r\nMarc turned to Toffee. "It\'s that gosh-awful spook again!" he breathed.\r\n"He would have to show up now!"\r\n\r\n"Actually," Toffee said, "he could not have shown up at a better time.\r\nI really was going to help you out, but now we have George."\r\n\r\nMarc\'s eyes brightened with slow realization. "Of course," he said,\r\nthen turned as he felt the doctor\'s hand on his shoulder. "Yes?"\r\n\r\n"Mr. Pillsworth," the doctor said tensely. "You _are_ Mr. Pillsworth,\r\naren\'t you?"\r\n\r\nMarc smiled with hypocritical innocence. "No," he said. "That\'s what\r\nI\'ve been trying to get through your thick skull." He pointed to\r\nGeorge. "That\'s Pillsworth there on the floor. And if you ask me he\'s\r\nin a pretty critical condition. You\'d better start sawing away at him\r\nright now before he pops off of natural causes and robs you of the\r\nsport."\r\n\r\n"Oh, my word!" the doctor gasped. "How can I ever tell you...!"\r\n\r\n"Come," Marc said grandly, turning to Toffee, "let\'s leave this\r\nblood-splattered slaughter house."\r\n\r\n"I\'m all for it," Toffee said gaily. "Let\'s flee."\r\n\r\n"I thought you didn\'t know that woman," the doctor said confusedly.\r\n\r\n"I begin to recognize her now," Marc replied urbanely. "It was my\r\nhorror at the crass brutality of the medical profession that drove her\r\ntender memory from my mind."\r\n\r\n"But, I ..." the doctor began hopelessly.\r\n\r\n"Say no more," Toffee said airily. "You can tell your side of it in\r\ncourt."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe two of them, linking arms, started toward the door. They were just\r\nabout to sweep out of the room when suddenly the situation hit a new\r\nsnag. It was at this juncture that George opened his eyes, waggled\r\nthem around woozily, then reared up in a sitting position, staring at\r\nMarc.\r\n\r\n"You!" he said with a strangled gasp. "You\'re alive!" The way he said\r\nit, it sounded like a hideous accusation.\r\n\r\nMarc stopped short, caught off guard. "Of course I\'m alive," he said.\r\n\r\n"But you can\'t be!" George wailed, great tears of awful disappointment\r\nwelling in his eyes. "It isn\'t fair! You _have_ to be dead!"\r\n\r\n"I\'m sorry," Marc said, somewhat at a loss. "I\'m not."\r\n\r\n"It\'s rotten," George said with drunken bitterness. "It\'s cruel. I\'m\r\nprobably the only ghost alive who\'s haunted by a human!"\r\n\r\n"Well, it\'s a distinction," Toffee offered hopefully.\r\n\r\n"Just a minute," the doctor put in suspiciously. "What\'s going on here?\r\nWhat are you people talking about?"\r\n\r\nMarc nodded sadly toward George. "The poor chap\'s delirious," he said.\r\n"We\'re only trying to humor him."\r\n\r\n"Oh, yeah?" the doctor said. His gaze moved from Marc to George and\r\nback to Marc again. "Just which one of you really _is_ Marc Pillsworth?"\r\n\r\nMarc and George pointed at each other in unison. "He is!" they chorused.\r\n\r\nThe doctor passed a trembling hand over his forehead and lifted his\r\ngaze to the ceiling. A tremor of frustration passed through his sturdy\r\nframe. He turned to the small blonde.\r\n\r\n"Is Mrs. Pillsworth still in the waiting room?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"I believe so, sir," the nurse said.\r\n\r\n"Will you please call her in here to make an identification?"\r\n\r\n"No!" Marc said, glancing uneasily in Toffee\'s direction. "Don\'t do\r\nthat...! I mean there\'s no need to disturb Mrs. Pillsworth. Obviously\r\nthis pitiful creature here on the floor is Pillsworth. Just by looking\r\nat him you can see he\'s under the weather."\r\n\r\nAt this George drew himself up sedately, stiffling a hiccough. "Nothing\r\nof the sort," he said piously. "I\'m in perfectly splendid condition."\r\n\r\n"Go ahead, nurse," the doctor said firmly. "Bring Mrs. Pillsworth."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," the nurse said, and departed.\r\n\r\n"But, you can\'t afford to delay the operation that long," Marc said.\r\n"You said so yourself. Anyone with half an eye can see that this poor\r\nman is getting more feeble by the second. You owe it to him to slit\r\nhim open immediately...!" In speaking Marc had paused to look at\r\nGeorge. The result was that the words froze on his lips. Never had he\r\nspoken more truly; George was not only getting more feeble but more\r\nnon-existent by the second. His legs had evaporated to the knees, his\r\narms were entirely gone. Where his eyes should have been there were\r\nnow only empty sockets. Staring at this awesome demonstration, the\r\ndoctor tottered slightly and braced himself against the operating table.\r\n\r\n"Oh, good Lord!" he moaned.\r\n\r\n"Stop that, you coward," Marc said angrily. "Stop sneaking out like\r\nthat!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIn response, George merely dissolved his head to a grinning skull.\r\n"Gotta go now," he chortled hollowly. "Gotta be corking off." He turned\r\nto the others and clacked his teeth menacingly. Olliphant Gunn was the\r\nfirst to snap.\r\n\r\n"There\'s just so much that human flesh and blood can stand," the poor\r\nman wailed, and leaping to the operating table he snatched up the\r\nanaesthetic mask and plunged it over his face.\r\n\r\n"Come on," Toffee said urgently, tugging at Marc\'s sleeve. "Let\'s get\r\nout of here before that cheap ghost sticks us with an operation."\r\n\r\nMarc jolted into action. Under Toffee\'s guidance, he lunged out the\r\ndoor and started down the hall.\r\n\r\n"Let\'s leave this place," Toffee said. "Let\'s go somewhere where we can\r\nhave fun."\r\n\r\n"We can\'t leave like this," Marc said, indicating their brief attire.\r\n"We can\'t go out on the street half naked."\r\n\r\n"We can say we\'re artists\' models on our way to work," Toffee said.\r\n"Come on."\r\n\r\nMarc didn\'t pause to debate the point as a cry from the operating room\r\nindicated that the doctors had recovered from their dismay with an\r\nurgent sense of loss.\r\n\r\nTogether, he and Toffee began to run. They proceeded swiftly around a\r\ncorner and down a flight of steps to the floor below. Suddenly Marc\r\nstopped.\r\n\r\n"What\'s wrong?" Toffee asked.\r\n\r\n"Listen," Marc said. "What\'s that?"\r\n\r\nToffee listened. Descending footsteps sounded on the stairs behind\r\nthem. She whirled about. The stairway was unoccupied.\r\n\r\n"George," she said disgustedly. "He\'s following us."\r\n\r\nThe footsteps stopped guiltily.\r\n\r\n"Okay," Marc said, addressing himself to the empty stairs. "It\'s no use\r\npretending you\'re not there. You might as well show yourself."\r\n\r\nA subdued hiccough echoed out of the emptiness, but that was the extent\r\nof George\'s communication.\r\n\r\n"If you\'re entertaining any notion of bumping me off so you can stay\r\nhere," Marc warned, "just forget it. I\'m alive and I intend to stay\r\nthat way."\r\n\r\n"Just ignore him," Toffee said. "He\'s bound to get bored and go away if\r\nwe refuse to pay any attention to him."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe discussion went no further, for suddenly there were sounds of\r\napproaching pursuit from above. Grabbing Toffee\'s arm, Marc raced\r\nahead, down the hall and around another corner. A third set of\r\nfootsteps continued to sound in their wake.\r\n\r\n"He\'s still with us," Toffee panted.\r\n\r\n"The vulture," Marc said. "He\'s just hoping they\'ll catch me. Run\r\nfaster."\r\n\r\nRenewing their efforts, they left behind another stretch of corridor,\r\nturned another corner. There they stopped abruptly. Ahead a group of\r\norderlies loomed before them.\r\n\r\n"That\'s them!" a young athletic type yelled. "That\'s Pillsworth!"\r\n\r\n"To hell with Pillsworth!" a companion responded. "Get the dame! She\'s\r\npractically all skin, just like they said!"\r\n\r\nMarc and Toffee darted back around the corner.\r\n\r\n"Surrounded!" Toffee panted. "I think that sums up the situation."\r\n\r\n"What\'ll we do?" Marc asked confusedly.\r\n\r\nToffee pointed to a door marked JANITOR\'S CLOSET. "In there," she said.\r\n"Quick!"\r\n\r\nThey ran to the door, threw it open and darted inside just as their\r\npursuers surged into view at either end of the hallway. They paused\r\nin the darkness to listen. As the sounds of the chase continued\r\noutside they turned their attention to their new surroundings. The\r\nair was close with the heady aroma of cleaning fluid, wax polish and\r\ndisinfectant.\r\n\r\n"Isn\'t there a light in here?" Toffee asked.\r\n\r\n"I can\'t find one," Marc said. "I\'ve looked all over."\r\n\r\n"Well," Toffee said, "at least it\'s a place to relax for a bit and\r\ncatch our breath. I just wish it didn\'t smell so oppressively clean. I\r\nwas hoping for a bit of dirt tonight--of the right sort, of course."\r\n\r\n"You stay on your side of the closet," Marc said, "and I\'ll stay on\r\nmine."\r\n\r\n"We\'ll never get anywhere that way," Toffee said. "Suppose Romeo had\r\ntaken that attitude with Juliet?"\r\n\r\n"They\'d both have lived a lot longer," Marc said.\r\n\r\n"I suspect that George is in here with us," Toffee said. "I fancy I\r\nhear him breathing back there amongst the mops and brooms."\r\n\r\n"I suppose he is," Marc said. There was a pause, followed by a number\r\nof rattling sounds. "What are you doing?"\r\n\r\n"There\'s a whole shelf of bottles over there," Toffee said. "I\'m just\r\nsniffing about to see if there\'s anything interesting. And there is.\r\nThe janitor has strong tastes. Irish whiskey, I should judge, by the\r\njolt of it. Have some?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMarc paused, took note of the new vapors overriding those of the\r\ncleaning fluids.\r\n\r\n"Well," he said, "it is a little drafty in this nightgown."\r\n\r\nToffee handed him the bottle in the darkness. "Bottoms," she said\r\npleasantly.\r\n\r\n"The expression," Marc said sedately, "is bottoms up."\r\n\r\n"Up or down," Toffee said, "it doesn\'t matter. I was just tossing in\r\nbottoms at random. Assorted bottoms, so to speak. If you prefer them\r\nup, you\'ll get no argument out of me."\r\n\r\nThere was a smacking sound as Marc lowered the bottle from his lips.\r\n"Let\'s just skip the bottoms," he said, "and go on to something else."\r\n\r\n"Sounds pretty giddy," Toffee mused, "all this leaping about over\r\nbottoms. However...."\r\n\r\n"Look outside," Marc suggested wearily, "and see if they\'re still out\r\nthere."\r\n\r\n"Okay," Toffee said. A small shaft of light darted in and out of the\r\ncloset as she opened the door and closed it again. "They\'re churning\r\nabout like cattle in a loading chute," she reported. "Where are you?"\r\n\r\n"Sitting on the floor," Marc said. "I\'m beginning to find this place\r\nrestful."\r\n\r\n"You\'re beginning to stink of Irish whiskey," Toffee said. "Stop\r\ngulping at that bottle like a great fish and hand it back."\r\n\r\n"I wonder if we should offer George a drink?" Marc said with growing\r\namiability. "I definitely heard him breathing back there just now.\r\nSounds a trifle wheezy, I\'m afraid."\r\n\r\n"I think we ought to banish George from our minds," Toffee said.\r\n"Besides, now that I\'ve got the bottle back I don\'t intend to be free\r\nabout handing it around for quite some time."\r\n\r\n"All right," Marc said. "Have it your way. George is banished."\r\n\r\nThere was a prolonged period of contented silence, broken\r\nintermittently by faint gurgling sounds, first from one side of the\r\ncloset then the other. It was Toffee who finally spoke.\r\n\r\n"By the way," she said, "what was all that nonsense about your getting\r\nyourself shot?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, that," Marc said negligently. "It\'s a bunch of subversives.\r\nThey have a subtle plan to poison the minds of the public against\r\nthe government--with the government\'s permission. I went on the air\r\nto expose them, but they had me shot to stop me. There was this dark\r\nfellow with a scar over his left eye in the control booth...." He\r\npaused. "Holy smoke! I forgot. This is serious business, isn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"It sounds like it," Toffee said. "How far did you get in your\r\nbroadcast?"\r\n\r\n"I didn\'t even get started. I suppose I ought to try to do it again."\r\n\r\n"If they think you\'re dead or dying, they won\'t be watching for you any\r\nmore."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," Marc said. "Let\'s get out of here."\r\n\r\n"Okay," Toffee said. "Just take your arms away from my waist so I can\r\nget up."\r\n\r\n"Huh?" Marc said. "I don\'t have my arms around your waist."\r\n\r\n"You haven\'t!" Toffee said. "Didn\'t you take the gadget from under my\r\narm either?"\r\n\r\n"Of course not."\r\n\r\n"It\'s that sneaky George," Toffee snorted. "And when I think of how I\r\nwas enjoying it...!" She turned in the darkness. "Let go of me before\r\nI lose my temper, George. So help me, you spurious spectre, I\'ll twist\r\nyour head off when I get ahold of you."\r\n\r\nThere was no answer but apparently the threat had taken hold; there\r\nwere sounds of Toffee getting to her feet.\r\n\r\n"That\'ll hold him," she said. "Look outside and see how things are. I\r\nwant that gadget back."\r\n\r\nMarc fumbled his way to the door, opened it a crack, then shoved it all\r\nthe way open.\r\n\r\n"All clear," he said and turned back to Toffee. "Can you see him back\r\nthere? Is he visible?"\r\n\r\n"I can just make him out," Toffee said, peering into the back of the\r\ncloset. "He\'s sort of lurking."\r\n\r\n"Okay, you rat," Marc said. "Come out of there and give it to us. Snap\r\ninto it."\r\n\r\nThere were shuffling sounds from the shadows and slowly a figure\r\nemerged into the light. It was a dark, heavy figure. The face was\r\nswarthy and there was a scar over the left eye. The man leered at the\r\ntwo in the doorway.\r\n\r\n"Okay," he said. "Keep your shirts on. I\'m going to give it to you all\r\nright. I\'m going to give it to you good."\r\n\r\nHe moved closer. In his left hand was Toffee\'s gadget, in his right an\r\nenormous revolver.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe swarthy man closed the door to the storeroom, locked it, and\r\nshaking his head, moved purposefully down the hallway to a door\r\nat the front of the warehouse. He stopped and knocked, and as an\r\nunintelligible grunt issued from inside, he opened the door and entered.\r\n\r\n"I got \'em," he announced.\r\n\r\nAcross the room a portly gentleman with a white mane and great shaggy\r\nblack eyebrows looked up from a sheaf of papers on the desk before him.\r\n\r\n"Them?" he said. "I told you just to pick up Pillsworth and finish him\r\noff."\r\n\r\nThe swarthy man glanced away, embarrassed. "I couldn\'t finish him off,\r\ncongressman. He wasn\'t even started. I went to the hospital, like you\r\ntold me, to make sure about Pillsworth--and I was going along the hall\r\nlookin\' for this place where they cut \'em up--and all of a sudden there\r\nwas a racket like a lot of people runnin\' around and yellin\', so I\r\nducked into this closet to keep under cover. Well, I was only in there\r\na little bit when all of a sudden somebody yanks the door open and this\r\nguy and this dame come shaggin\' in with hardly any clothes on. So I\r\nkept quiet and listened."\r\n\r\n"I\'m not interested in the sordid doings behind the scenes at the\r\nhospital," Congressman Entwerp interrupted. "Stick to the pertinent\r\nfacts."\r\n\r\n"Oh, no, it wasn\'t nothin\' like that. I just listened and pretty soon\r\nit come up in what they were sayin\' that this guy with the dame is none\r\nother than Pillsworth himself. And believe me, congressman, I can\'t\r\nexplain it, but there ain\'t a thing wrong with him--physically."\r\n\r\n"Physically?" the congressman asked. "What do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"The guy\'s mentally a mess," the thug said. "So\'s this dame with him.\r\nShe\'s a terrific lookin\' little job, but crazy as a coot. It\'s a dirty\r\nshame."\r\n\r\n"How do you know they\'re crazy?"\r\n\r\n"Just ask Hank. He drove the car. All the way over from the hospital\r\nthey kept talkin\' to this guy who wasn\'t there, and bawlin\' him out for\r\nfollowin\' them everyplace. They called him George, and they carried on\r\na regular conversation with him. It was weird, leave me tell you. But\r\none thing, this guy George, whoever he is, is lucky he doesn\'t exist;\r\nthe way that little dame kept tellin\' him what she was going to do to\r\nhim if he didn\'t show himself and help them out of this jam was enough\r\nto curl your hair. Pillsworth was all the time tellin\' this imaginary\r\ncharacter what a ghoul he was to be hangin\' around just to see him get\r\nkilled. They\'re both nuts, boss, an\' no lie!"\r\n\r\n"Maybe it was just an act," Congressman Entwerp suggested skeptically.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t think so. You\'d really have to feel mean to say some of the\r\nstuff those two was dishin\' out to this George." The thug paused\r\nand withdrew Toffee\'s thought gadget from his pocket. "Look what I\r\nlifted off the dame in the closet." He placed it on the desk before\r\nthe congressman. "She\'s plenty hot to get it back. You\'d think it was\r\nsomethin\' worth somethin\'."\r\n\r\n"What is it?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know. Some sort of two-way flashlight, I guess. Just a piece\r\nof junk."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe congressman bent his shaggy head close over the gadget and examined\r\nit minutely. He picked it up, weighed it in his hand, then shrugged and\r\ndropped it negligently into his pocket.\r\n\r\n"Let\'s have a look at these two crackpots," he said, rising from his\r\nchair. "We\'ll have to dispose of them, of course."\r\n\r\n"Okay," the thug said. "I just hope they\'ve got things settled with\r\nthis George before we get there."\r\n\r\nBack in the storeroom, however, events were lurching ahead in a most\r\nuncertain manner. Things had started with an air of mild strangeness\r\nand mounted swiftly to a state of wild-eyed madness.\r\n\r\nFinding themselves confined and in the hands of blood-thirsting\r\nmurderers, Marc and Toffee had paused only momentarily to survey their\r\nmusty prison, the cases of wines, brandies and whiskies stacked along\r\nthe walls, before returning to the subject uppermost in their minds.\r\nToffee, doubling her fists, addressed herself to the room at large.\r\n\r\n"George," she said evenly, "we know you\'re with us. You gave yourself\r\naway in the car when you let that foot materialize, and you\'ll give\r\nyourself away again. And when you do, brother, I\'m going to kick your\r\nteeth out one at a time and have them made into shirt studs. I\'m going\r\nto...!"\r\n\r\n"It\'s no use threatening him," Marc interrupted. "He\'s got the\r\nadvantage. He\'s just hanging around waiting for me to be killed. And\r\nhe\'ll probably have his way before they\'re done with us."\r\n\r\nIn answer, a stifled yawn echoed from somewhere in back of them. Toffee\r\nwhirled about.\r\n\r\n"Listen to him!" she fumed. "Now he\'s rubbing it in! That was the most\r\nput-on yawn I ever heard."\r\n\r\nShe started forward, but Marc put out a hand to stop her. He drew her\r\ntoward the corner.\r\n\r\n"Listen," he said in lowered tones, "I\'ve just thought of something.\r\nMaybe we can trap him."\r\n\r\n"We certainly should be able to," Toffee agreed hotly. "George is pure\r\nrat, through and through. If we only had some cheese...."\r\n\r\n"What about whiskey?" Marc asked. "There\'s plenty of it here, and where\r\nGeorge is concerned it\'s the best bait in the world."\r\n\r\n"I wonder why he hasn\'t been at it already?" Toffee said, surveying the\r\ncrates along the walls. "The place is practically seething with the\r\nstuff."\r\n\r\n"He\'s too smart," Marc said. "He doesn\'t want to show where he is.\r\nBy the time he opened a crate and got the bottle out we\'d have him\r\nlocated. He\'s afraid we\'d slug him."\r\n\r\n"Of course we\'d slug him," Toffee said. "I personally intend to bop\r\nthe living bejesus out of him at the very first opportunity. What\r\ndifference does that make?"\r\n\r\n"He knows what we\'re after," Marc explained. "He knows we want him to\r\nshow himself to these people so they won\'t know which one of us is me.\r\nAnd look what happened to George the last time he was knocked out."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nToffee looked up with a smile of understanding. "Of course!" she said.\r\n"He lost control of his ectoplasm and materialized."\r\n\r\n"Exactly," Marc said, "and it might happen again. Then it would not\r\nbe just a matter of confusing them with the two of us. If George\r\nmaterialized we could leave him to take the rap all by himself."\r\n\r\n"Wonderful!" Toffee said. "Let\'s do it. It would serve everybody\r\nright. How do we trap him?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s simple," Marc said. "We open the crates and get the bottles out\r\n_for_ George. At first we pretend to forget about him; we sit around\r\nand act like we\'re swilling down whiskey by the gallon and having the\r\ntime of our lives. This will drive George close to madness, locked in\r\na room with two drinkers and no drop for himself. When we figure he\'s\r\nsufficiently worked up, we\'ll weaken and offer him a drink. He won\'t be\r\nable to resist. While one of us hands over his bottle, the other takes\r\na fix on George\'s position and bashes the daylights out of him with\r\nthis." Marc permitted himself a smile of pride. "You see?"\r\n\r\n"Marvelous," Toffee said. "I particularly love that part at the end,\r\nwhere George gets bashed. Can I be the basher?"\r\n\r\n"Okay," Marc agreed. "Let\'s go. And remember, act as though you\'ve\r\nnever enjoyed drinking anything so much in your whole life."\r\n\r\nWith tremendous nonchalance, the two moved across the room to the\r\nstacked crates.\r\n\r\n"My, my," Marc said in a declamatory, radio announcer\'s tone, "what do\r\nyou suppose we have here in all these interesting-looking crates?"\r\n\r\n"I should think," Toffee said on cue, "that they contain bottles of\r\nfine old tangy whiskey. Of course that\'s just a random guess, but I\r\nbelieve it\'s a shrewd one. Shall we have a look?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, let\'s!" Marc cried, with a false grin of eagerness. He turned\r\nslightly in what he presumed to be George\'s direction. "A drink of fine\r\nold tangy whiskey would certainly taste mighty good just now."\r\n\r\n"I can think of nothing better!" Toffee said, smacking her lips loudly.\r\n"My mouth fairly waters!"\r\n\r\nMarc reached one of the crates down and, placing it on the floor, pried\r\nup one of the slats. He reached out two bottles and handed one toward\r\nToffee.\r\n\r\n"Well, well," he cried with studied joviality. "Look what I found!"\r\n\r\nToffee clapped her hands after the manner of a witless child. "Oh,\r\ngoody!" she gurgled. "Some of that wonderful fine old tangy whiskey!\r\nJust what I hoped for!" She took the bottle, opened it and took a\r\nswallow. She blanched and covered her face with her hand. "Ugh!" she\r\nrasped.\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir!" Marc said, lifting his bottle to his mouth. "Some of the\r\nfinest, oldest and tangyest fine old tangy whiskey there is." He rolled\r\nhis eyes in broad anticipation. "Yes, sir, bedad!"\r\n\r\n"It\'s a good thing you said that before you tasted the stuff," Toffee\r\nhissed between clenched teeth. "You\'d never have the breath afterward."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe warning came too late; Marc had already downed a large swallow. He\r\nclosed his eyes and gagged. Like Toffee, however, he forced a frozen\r\nsmile through his tears and rubbed his stomach luxuriously. "Umm-umm,"\r\nhe managed to say. "It sure hits the spot."\r\n\r\n"And leaves it in ruins," Toffee agreed. "They must cook this stuff up\r\nin old lye vats."\r\n\r\n"Keep drinking," Marc whispered urgently. "And look happy."\r\n\r\n"Okay," Toffee said grimly. "I\'ll die with a smile on my face, but\r\nit\'ll be the lie of the century." She lifted the bottle gamely and\r\ndrank. "Oh, boy!" she rasped through drawn lips, "this whiskey is the\r\nanswer to a drunkard\'s prayer."\r\n\r\nMarc drank dutifully in turn. "You said it!" he announced, tears\r\nstreaming from his eyes. "It\'s delicious!"\r\n\r\n"I could go on drinking it forever," Toffee wheezed, taking another\r\ngulp and clutching her throat. "It\'s so smooth!"\r\n\r\n"Makes you want more and more," Marc said, shaking his head to clear it\r\nafter a third libation. "It gives you a real boost."\r\n\r\n"Let\'s not carry it too far," Toffee whispered. "If I drink any more of\r\nthis mange medicine I won\'t be able to hit the barnside of a broad."\r\n\r\n"Broadside of a barn," Marc corrected her weakly. "But you\'re right.\r\nWe\'d better make the pitch while we\'re still conscious."\r\n\r\nToffee nodded and made a great show of registering happy inspiration.\r\n"Say," she cried, "you know who would just love this whiskey?"\r\n\r\n"No," Marc replied like the second part in a minstrel skit. "Who?"\r\n\r\n"George!" Toffee said. "You remember good old George?"\r\n\r\nMarc nodded vigorously. "Wouldn\'t he be just crazy about whiskey like\r\nthis?"\r\n\r\n"He certainly would. Crazy mad, he\'d be. Isn\'t it too bad he\'s not\r\nhere?" Then Toffee brightened. "But perhaps he is! You never can tell\r\nabout good old George."\r\n\r\n"But when we were talking to him earlier he didn\'t answer."\r\n\r\n"Perhaps he misunderstood something one of us said," Toffee suggested.\r\n"Maybe he didn\'t understand our type of humor and got offended. You\r\nknow, like when I said I was going to gouge his eyes out? A harmless\r\nremark to most people, but perhaps not so to good old George."\r\n\r\n"True," Marc said sagely. "George always was sensitive." He glanced\r\naround the room. "George?" he called. "If you\'re here, old man, how\r\nabout having a drink with us? If we said anything to hurt your feelings\r\nwe certainly didn\'t mean to."\r\n\r\nHe paused to listen. There was a hesitant shuffling across the room.\r\n\r\n"Well ..." a voice said uneasily.\r\n\r\nMarc and Toffee exchanged glances of triumph.\r\n\r\n"You mustn\'t miss out on this, old man," Marc cajoled. "You really\r\nmustn\'t."\r\n\r\n"And it will make such a nice friendly gesture," Toffee put in, "to\r\nshow that you forgive us our thoughtless little jibes."\r\n\r\n"Well," the voice returned, a shade less hesitant. "I am a little dry."\r\n\r\n"Of course you are," Marc said jovially, "and we have the very thing to\r\nbring you comfort and contentment. Just step over here and I\'ll give\r\nyou this whole bottle."\r\n\r\n"No tricks?" George asked warily.\r\n\r\n"George!" Toffee said, thoroughly scandalized, "how can you even\r\nentertain such a notion?"\r\n\r\n"Just to show you," Marc said, "why don\'t you stay invisible? You\'re\r\nperfectly safe that way."\r\n\r\n"Okay," George agreed. "Just hold out the bottle."\r\n\r\n"Right-oh," Marc said and turned to Toffee. "Give it everything," he\r\nwhispered. Toffee nodded.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs Marc held out the bottle, Toffee sighted on the area in line with\r\nhis hand, on the principle that George, being a duplicate of Marc, his\r\nhead would be on the same level. The best strategy, she felt, was to\r\nconcentrate on this area as swiftly and violently as possible. She held\r\nthe bottle in readiness and when, a moment later, the bottle jogged in\r\nMarc\'s hand, she was prepared. She swung as hard as she could in a wide\r\nhorizontal swipe. About half way, the bottle jarred to an abrupt stop\r\nand shattered, spewing liquid and glass in all directions. This was\r\nsubsequently followed by a surprised moan and a heavy thudding sound in\r\nthe vicinity of the floor.\r\n\r\n"Got him!" Toffee cried jubilantly. "Smashed him right on the button!"\r\nShe dropped the jagged neck of the bottle daintily to the floor.\r\n\r\n"He\'s still invisible," Marc said worriedly. "I hope there\'ll be\r\ndevelopments."\r\n\r\nDevelopments came almost immediately, and they were well worth\r\nwatching, though hardly the sight for sore eyes. Marc\'s calculations\r\nhad been correct. Surprised, as it were, into unconsciousness, George\r\nhad completely lost control of his ectoplasm. The trouble, though,\r\nwas that instead of splashing out through his body all of a piece, it\r\ntrickled out in fits and starts.\r\n\r\nWhat appeared on the floor, under Marc\'s and Toffee\'s watchful eyes,\r\nwas not George in total, but a sort of jig-saw George in which many\r\nof the vital pieces had been omitted. While one could be grateful for\r\nGeorge\'s head, there was bound to be a pang of regret for the neck\r\nwhich had failed to appear.\r\n\r\nAn arm lay to the left, with only a finger or two to indicate that it\r\nhad once blossomed a hand. Had there ever been an expression to the\r\neffect that half a torso was better than none, George had disproved\r\nit beyond measure; a torso, apparently severed from the collar bone\r\nto the mid-riff was so much worse than no torso at all as to be\r\npositively hair-raising. A random foot here, an errant knee cap there\r\nonly garnished the over-all picture of hideous human butchery. With a\r\nshudder of revulsion, Toffee turned from the awful sight.\r\n\r\n"Leave it to George," she said, "just leave it to that monster to be as\r\nrevolting as possible."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t suppose it\'s really his fault," Marc said fairly, "but I wish\r\nhe were invisible again."\r\n\r\nIt was at this moment that the congressman and his henchman, having\r\ncompleted their discussion in the front of the warehouse, arrived at\r\nthe door of the storeroom and fitted a key to the lock.\r\n\r\n"Duck!" Toffee said. "Get behind those crates!"\r\n\r\n"What about you?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m going to get my invention back. Besides they can\'t hurt me, and\r\nthe important thing is to give you a chance to escape."\r\n\r\n"Okay," Marc nodded and faded into the dimness behind the crates.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nToffee moved to the nearest stack of boxes, boosted herself atop them\r\nand leaned back in an attitude of relaxed languor. She watched from\r\nthe corner of her eye as the door swung open and the congressman and\r\nthe thug advanced into the room. She lifted her gaze dreamily to the\r\nceiling and began to hum quietly to herself.\r\n\r\n"There she is, boss," the thug said. "There\'s the dame, up there."\r\n\r\n"My word!" Congressman Entwerp said. "Where did Pillsworth ever pick\r\nher up?"\r\n\r\n"In a Turkish bath, I guess, before they passed out the towels."\r\n\r\nToffee turned slowly and observed the two with heavy disdain.\r\n\r\n"Please be quiet," she drawled, "you\'re disturbing my meditations."\r\n\r\n"Where\'s Pillsworth?" the thug asked.\r\n\r\nToffee shrugged. "Somewhere around, I suppose."\r\n\r\n"Okay, sister," the thug growled, "cut out the jazz. Where is he?"\r\n\r\n"You\'re sure you want to know?"\r\n\r\n"We insist," Congressman Entwerp said.\r\n\r\n"Then just step nearer," Toffee said with an airy wave, "and feast your\r\neyes. You will find Mr. Pillsworth--more or less--on the floor, just to\r\nthe right of these boxes. I\'m sure you\'ll excuse him if he doesn\'t rise\r\nto greet you."\r\n\r\nWarily, the two men edged closer. Then suddenly the thug, catching\r\nsight of George in his disconnected condition, stopped short. His mouth\r\nworked soundlessly, and his eyes rolled loosely in their sockets. The\r\ncongressman, not yet aware of George, looked at him.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the matter with you?" he asked shortly. "Why are you standing\r\nthere making faces? Stop that and...!"\r\n\r\nThe tirade ended abruptly as the congressman\'s gaze fell to George. He\r\nlost his breath in a thin wheeze.\r\n\r\nFor a long moment the two men simply goggled, then slowly they turned\r\naway.\r\n\r\n"You fool!" the congressman screamed. "I only told you to finish him\r\noff, not to hack him up into cutlets!"\r\n\r\n"But I didn\'t!" the thug said shakenly. "He was all right when I locked\r\nhim in here."\r\n\r\n"Then, who...!"\r\n\r\nTogether, the two of them turned and regarded Toffee with incredulous\r\neyes. Toffee returned their stares with innocent directness.\r\n\r\n"Yes, gentlemen?" she murmured.\r\n\r\n"Did you...?" the congressman began, then broke off with a shudder.\r\n\r\n"Did I what?" Toffee asked demurely.\r\n\r\n"What the congressman means," the thug said in a whisper, "is did\r\nyou ... do _that_?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, that," Toffee said. She returned her gaze thoughtfully to the\r\nceiling as though trying to remember. Finally she shook her head. "No,"\r\nshe said. "I\'m certain that\'s not one of my jobs. Too messy."\r\n\r\nThe men gaped.\r\n\r\n"Holy smoke!" the thug quavered. "What happened to him?"\r\n\r\n"Who knows?" Toffee shrugged. "Maybe he has some horrible disease. I\r\nfigure it\'s his business."\r\n\r\n"Good God!" the congressman breathed. "We\'ve got to get him off our\r\nhands. We\'ll have to be careful, though. The hospital has the entire\r\npolice force out looking for him. It\'s on the radio. If we were caught\r\nwith him in that condition the party wouldn\'t like it."\r\n\r\n"Nobody would like it," the thug said. "Shall we dump him in the river?"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe congressman shook his head. "Too many patrolmen around. There must\r\nbe...." His voice trailed off into thoughtful silence. Finally he\r\nnodded with decision. "We won\'t try to hide him. We\'ll deliver him to\r\nthe police just as he is--in an automobile crash. The girl too."\r\n\r\n"Huh?" the thug said. "How do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s simple enough. Pillsworth looks like a crash victim, so why don\'t\r\nwe just let him be one? Go get a sack or something to carry him out\r\nin." He turned and moved toward the door. "I\'ll have Hank fix up one of\r\nthe cars."\r\n\r\n"Good night, boss," the thug said plaintively, following after him,\r\n"you mean I\'ve got to pick him up--with my hands!"\r\n\r\nThe moment they were gone, locking the door after them, Toffee jumped\r\ndown from her perch and Marc appeared from the shadows.\r\n\r\n"Do you know who that was?" Marc asked excitedly.\r\n\r\n"The old bird with the sable hair-do?"\r\n\r\nMarc nodded. "It\'s Congressman Entwerp. I should have known he was\r\nbehind this mess. And that isn\'t all; those crates of cheap whiskey are\r\njust a front. Underneath there\'s enough bacteria culture to wipe out\r\nthe whole country. These boys are planning mass murder!"\r\n\r\n"Also individual murder," Toffee said.\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"They\'re going to arrange an auto crash. When the wreckage is sorted\r\nout George and I will be prominent amongst the demolished extras."\r\n\r\n"Good grief!"\r\n\r\n"It\'s nothing to worry about," Toffee said. "After all, they can\'t\r\npossibly kill me--or George either, for that matter. In the meantime\r\nyou can contact the police and see that they\'re arrested. There\'s\r\njust one thing though; you\'re going to have to get the police without\r\nletting the police get you."\r\n\r\n"Huh?"\r\n\r\n"It seems the entire force is out scouring the city for you, and I get\r\nthe impression that they\'re supposed to rush you along to the operating\r\nroom without messing around with any conversation."\r\n\r\n"Golly," Marc said. "How am I going to work it? Even if I get a chance\r\nto tell them about Entwerp, they\'ll just think I\'m delirious."\r\n\r\n"Be your own bait," Toffee suggested. "Entwerp will be busy murdering\r\nGeorge and me. All you have to do is get the cops to chase you to\r\nthe scene of the crime so they can catch him red-handed. I\'ll see to\r\nit that the door\'s left unlocked long enough for you to get out of\r\nhere...." She stopped as the key sounded again in the lock. "Anyway,\r\nwork it out as you go along, and I\'ll see you later..."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"What took so long?" the congressman demanded. He was standing by the\r\ngreen sedan, holding the door open.\r\n\r\n"It was the dame," the thug said breathlessly. "When I turned to lock\r\nup the storeroom, she let out a yip and took off. I had to chase her\r\nall over the joint before I caught her."\r\n\r\nAt his side, Toffee shook her head to get the hair out of her eyes. "I\r\njust wanted a little exercise to get up the circulation," she said.\r\n\r\n"We certainly circulated," the thug agreed sourly. "All over the place."\r\n\r\n"You didn\'t leave the storeroom open?" the congressman asked.\r\n\r\n"I went back and locked it."\r\n\r\n"I see you got Pillsworth in the car."\r\n\r\n"Yeah," the thug said. "But he handled awful funny, like he was all\r\nstrung together with invisible wire. I had a job spreadin\' him out in\r\nthe seat."\r\n\r\nThe congressman looked at him sharply. "You\'ve probably been drinking\r\nthat dummy whiskey again," he said. "Anyway, let\'s get going. The girl\r\nwill have to drive."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know how to drive," Toffee said. "Besides, I haven\'t got a\r\nlicense."\r\n\r\n"Never mind, sister," the thug said, "that\'s even better." He nudged\r\nher toward the door of the car, as the congressman moved off into the\r\nnight. Toffee gazed inward at the dismembered George sprawled across\r\nthe seat.\r\n\r\n"Do I have to get in there with him?" she asked.\r\n\r\n"The boss doesn\'t want you to be lonesome," the thug said.\r\n\r\n"I\'d rather be lonesome," Toffee said, but she got into the car anyway.\r\n\r\nThe thug closed the door after her and leaned through the window.\r\n\r\n"Just so you\'ll know," he said, "I\'d better explain. This car hasn\'t\r\nany brakes, and the steering is fixed. It\'s okay now, but after a few\r\nminutes it will break and the car will be out of control. We have it\r\ntimed out with the curve at the end of the speedway, the one called\r\nDead Man\'s Curve. By the time you reach that the wheel will be just\r\nabout as much good to you as a set of knitting needles. In other words,\r\nyou\'re going to drive due south with your foot to the floor and crack\r\nup on the curve. No one\'s missed that curve yet and lived."\r\n\r\n"There\'s always a first time," Toffee said brightly.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t count on it, sugar. And just to make sure you do what you\'re\r\ntold, the congressman and me will be alongside in the congressman\'s\r\ncar. I personally will be holding a rod aimed at your head, so don\'t\r\nget notions. Also, we want to be around to report the accident."\r\n\r\nToffee nodded approvingly. "It only seems the sort of thing any good\r\ncitizen would do," she said.\r\n\r\nThe gunman stared at her. "Too bad a good looking dame like you has to\r\nbe so wacky."\r\n\r\n"We all have our little flaws," Toffee said chattily. "That\'s life."\r\n\r\n"Aren\'t you even worried?"\r\n\r\nToffee shook her head. "I\'ve always wanted to learn to drive," she\r\nsaid, smiling.\r\n\r\n"Oh, my God!" the thug moaned. "Maybe, it\'s best; you\'re sure to kill\r\nyourself sooner or later anyway."\r\n\r\n"Of course," Toffee said, patting his hand. "I don\'t want you to blame\r\nyourself. Just consider you\'re doing a public service."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMeanwhile, a lanky figure had emerged warily from the warehouse and\r\nwas lurking, in a twitchy sort of way, in the dimness of the alley.\r\nObscured in shadow, Marc had watched Toffee get into the green sedan,\r\nthe thug instructing her in the art of driving. He glanced anxiously\r\ndown the street, praying for a police car.\r\n\r\nA small coupe, with a man and woman inside, pulled up to the curb at\r\nthe end of the block, and the man got out and disappeared into the\r\ntelegraph office on the corner. But that was all.\r\n\r\nMarc jumped as he heard the green sedan start up. He turned to see a\r\nblack limousine, driven by the congressman, pull up beside it. The\r\nthug crossed and got inside and a moment later the barrel of a gun\r\ncaught light from the window. Time was seeping out.\r\n\r\nDucking from cover, Marc raced for the coupe and the waiting woman on\r\nthe corner. Reaching it, he threw the door open and jumped inside. The\r\nwoman, a faded blonde, pressed back against the seat with a startled\r\ncry. Marc, however, was too relieved at finding the key in the ignition\r\nto notice.\r\n\r\nHe started the car, threw it into gear and set it in motion almost in\r\na single action. The woman\'s reaction to this was a shrill, braying\r\nscream.\r\n\r\n"Please," Marc said distractedly. "Don\'t." The woman screamed again.\r\n"Do you have to do that?" he asked annoyedly.\r\n\r\n"I have to do something, don\'t I?" the woman enquired wretchedly. "I\r\ncan\'t just sit here, can I?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t see why not," Marc said, peering down the street intently. "It\r\ndoesn\'t help anything to scream like that."\r\n\r\n"It helps me plenty," the woman retorted hotly. "When naked men come\r\nleaping into a lady\'s car and driving her off to God knows what, it\r\ngives her a great satisfaction to scream." As though to prove her point\r\nshe paused to scream again. "Anyway, it makes her feel a hell of a lot\r\nbetter."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t see why," Marc said with rising irritation.\r\n\r\n"Well, put yourself in my place," the woman snapped. "What would you\r\ndo if a naked man came leaping into your car?"\r\n\r\n"Naked men don\'t leap into my car." Marc said self-righteously. "I\r\nwouldn\'t let them."\r\n\r\n"Are you suggesting that I invite naked men to come leaping into my\r\ncar?" the woman asked frigidly. "I\'ll have you know...."\r\n\r\n"The way you carry on about it," Marc said, "one just automatically\r\ndraws his own conclusions. One pictures a whole procession of naked men\r\njust waiting their turn to leap into your car, you\'re such an authority\r\non these occasions."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nFor a moment the blonde fell into a sulky silence. She glanced out the\r\nwindow at the rapidly passing scenery.\r\n\r\n"What I want to know," she said at length, "is what is my husband going\r\nto say."\r\n\r\n"Not knowing your husband," Marc said, "I\'m in no position to guess. If\r\nI were you I\'d judge by the way he\'s expressed himself on other similar\r\noccasions."\r\n\r\n"There you go again," the woman said, "insulting me. Where are you\r\ntaking me?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m not taking you anywhere," Marc said. "I\'m taking myself. You just\r\nhappened to be here."\r\n\r\n"Oh," the woman said, not, it seemed, without a touch of\r\ndisappointment. There was another lapse of silence.\r\n\r\n"Do you know where there\'s a cop?" Marc asked, after a few more blocks.\r\n\r\n"If I did," the woman said, "I\'d be with him instead of you. What do\r\nyou want with a cop?"\r\n\r\n"I\'ve got to find one," Marc said anxiously. "It means everything."\r\n\r\nBy this time the woman had resigned herself to the unhappy fact that\r\nshe was out for a spin with a raving lunatic. She nodded sagely, as\r\nthough agreeing with this last remark entirely.\r\n\r\n"Sure," she said, "sometimes I feel that way myself. Cops are\r\neverything. It just sweeps over me all of a heap."\r\n\r\n"What sweeps over you?" Marc asked absently.\r\n\r\n"Cops," the woman said.\r\n\r\n"Do you think you ought to be making these little confessions to a\r\ntotal stranger?" Marc asked distastefully. "Or do you mean your husband\r\nis a cop?"\r\n\r\n"Of course not," the woman said. "My husband is a butcher. What\'s that\r\ngot to do with it? I was just saying that sometimes cops just seem to\r\nsurge over me." She giggled with nervous desperation. "A sort of blue\r\nserge, you might say."\r\n\r\n"Well," Marc said, "since you seem to know all these cops so well, you\r\nought to be able to tell me where they hang out."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know all these cops," the woman said.\r\n\r\n"You mean they\'re a bunch of total strangers?" Marc asked, thoroughly\r\nshocked. "My word!"\r\n\r\n"Couldn\'t we just drop the subject?" the woman asked defeatedly. "I\'m\r\nall confused somehow."\r\n\r\n"I should think you would be confused," Marc agreed. His voice trailed\r\naway on a rising inflection as he spotted a police car parked at the\r\ncurb across the street. "Cops!" he breathed. He glanced ahead. "You see\r\nthat green sedan up ahead with the black limousine beside it?"\r\n\r\nThe woman nodded vaguely. "The one that just cut up over the sidewalk?\r\nWhat about it?"\r\n\r\n"Keep your eye on it," Marc instructed, "while I get the cop\'s\r\nattention. It\'s a matter of life and death."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe green sedan, as it turned out, was eminently worth keeping an\r\neye on. Toffee, beleaguered as she was with the mechanics of keeping\r\nthe vehicle in motion, had come upon other problems. Early in the\r\ngame, feeling vague stirrings at her side, she had looked around to\r\nsee George\'s dismembered head yawn thickly and open its eyes. Then,\r\nas if this wasn\'t loathsome enough, a set of fingers wriggled to the\r\nedge of the seat, gripped it and boosted the halved torso around so\r\nthat the disjointed feet dropped to the floor. George, rising from\r\nunconsciousness had hauled himself into a sitting position. Toffee\r\nlooked on this development without favor.\r\n\r\n"Stay down, George," she hissed. "Get back where you were."\r\n\r\nThe head swiveled around hideously, a wounded look in its eyes.\r\n\r\n"Oh, it\'s you, is it?" he said sadly. "You hit me."\r\n\r\n"And I\'ll hit you again," Toffee promised, "if you don\'t get down."\r\n\r\nGeorge merely looked baffled at this. "Where are we goin\'?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"To an accident," Toffee said.\r\n\r\nGeorge\'s face brightened. "Was Marc in it?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"It hasn\'t happened yet," Toffee explained. "We\'re going to be in it,\r\nyou and I. In fact, we\'re the whole accident."\r\n\r\n"Huh?" George said, edging up a bit. "Us?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," Toffee nodded. "They figure we know too much."\r\n\r\n"Too much about what?"\r\n\r\n"About this subversive business," Toffee said. "They think we know\r\ntheir plan to overthrow the government."\r\n\r\n"So they\'re going to kill us in an accident?"\r\n\r\n"Uh-huh."\r\n\r\n"Aren\'t you scared?"\r\n\r\nToffee shrugged. "Why should I be? I\'m a product of Marc\'s mind. I\r\ncan\'t possibly be destroyed unless he is. And he\'s perfectly safe."\r\n\r\n"He is?" George said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Why don\'t\r\nthese people want to kill him?"\r\n\r\n"They think they are killing him," Toffee said. "They think you\'re\r\nMarc. In fact they believe you\'re already dead."\r\n\r\n"What!" George cried. "You mean I\'m acting as a decoy to save Marc\'s\r\nlife?"\r\n\r\nToffee nodded smugly. "Some onions, eh, George?"\r\n\r\n"Stop the car!" George shouted. "Let me out!"\r\n\r\n"No brakes," Toffee said. She nodded toward the limousine. "Besides,\r\nthey won\'t let me. You\'d better get down in the seat or they\'ll think\r\nit\'s funny."\r\n\r\n"I hope they do," George said sullenly. "I hope they think it\'s funny\r\nas hell and do something about it. It\'s so damned unfair." And with\r\nthat he leaned across Toffee, jutted his head out the window and began\r\nbaying in the direction of the limousine.\r\n\r\n"Stop that!" Toffee said. "It sounds awful."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGeorge swiveled his frightful head around in her direction. "It\r\nshould," he said. "It\'s the _Torment Lament_. I learned it in the\r\nMoaning Chorus and it\'s guaranteed to drive you mad in nothing flat."\r\nHe turned back to the night and the limousine and sent his voice\r\nwailing into the wind.\r\n\r\nIt was an effort that was not lost on its audience. The occupants of\r\nthe limousine looked around sharply with horrified eyes.\r\n\r\n"Jesus in Heaven!" the thug gasped.\r\n\r\nAt his side the congressman was so taken with the fearsome recital that\r\nhe completely forgot he was driving. As the car careened dangerously,\r\nthe thug reached out and pulled the wheel.\r\n\r\n"Isn\'t it awful, boss?" he breathed.\r\n\r\n"Awful doesn\'t begin to tell it," the congressman choked. "It\'s--it\'s\r\n_awful_!"\r\n\r\n"Yeah. That\'s what I mean to say."\r\n\r\n"How can anything sound like that?" the congressman asked hauntedly.\r\n\r\n"If it can look like that," the thug said, "I guess it shouldn\'t have\r\nno trouble soundin\' like that."\r\n\r\n"And look at that girl, will you? She\'s actually talking to the filthy\r\nthing."\r\n\r\n"She looks plenty hot under the collar."\r\n\r\n"Why not? I\'d be sore as hell myself."\r\n\r\n"When do we get to the curve, boss?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know," the congressman said. "But I can\'t wait. The sooner\r\nthat car crashes and takes that frightful thing with it the better."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMeanwhile, as the two cars skidded and reeled toward the appointed spot\r\nof disaster, Marc continued to loiter several blocks behind. Having\r\ndeliberately cut across traffic in the middle of the block, he pulled\r\nup beside the police car and leaned out the window.\r\n\r\n"I just cut across traffic!" he called out.\r\n\r\nThe cop behind the wheel left his conversation with his companion and\r\nobserved Marc dubiously.\r\n\r\n"So what?" he asked. "You want me to give you a gold star on your\r\ndriver\'s license?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t have a driver\'s license," Marc offered hopefully. "What are\r\nyou going to do about it, you big, thick-headed slob?"\r\n\r\nThe cop turned back to his partner. "A kidder, we\'ve got here," he\r\nsaid. He turned back to Marc. "Beat it, comedian, you and your girl\r\nfriend take off."\r\n\r\n"Aren\'t you going to chase me?" Marc asked. "I\'m a lawbreaker."\r\n\r\n"Move along, chum," the cop drawled, "before I sell you a ticket to the\r\norphan\'s picnic."\r\n\r\n"But you\'ve _got_ to chase me," Marc said urgently.\r\n\r\n"No I don\'t, friend," the cop said. "I\'ve got to sit here and listen\r\nfor radio leads on this goofy Pillsworth guy."\r\n\r\n"But that\'s me!" Marc said. "I\'m Pillsworth!"\r\n\r\nThe cop looked at him with forced patience. "Sure, sure," he said. "And\r\nI\'m Miss Atlantic City. Beat it." He turned back to his companion.\r\n\r\n"What if I told you I knew where a murder was going to happen?" Marc\r\nventured.\r\n\r\nThe cop looked around. "You\'re just full of news, aren\'t you?" he said,\r\nand turned away again.\r\n\r\nFor a moment Marc sat in silent indecision. Then he turned to the\r\nblonde.\r\n\r\n"Why don\'t you scream?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Why should I?" the woman asked interestedly. "Do you really know where\r\na murder\'s going to happen?"\r\n\r\n"You said screaming made you feel good," Marc suggested.\r\n\r\n"I feel fine," the woman said. "I always do with a lot of stuff going\r\non. Who\'s going to get murdered?"\r\n\r\nMarc glanced desperately from the woman to the cops and back again. A\r\ndetermined look came into his eyes. He cautiously extended two fingers\r\nto the woman\'s thigh. "I\'m sorry," he said, and pinched as hard as he\r\ncould.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe results were everything to be wished for--and more. Stiffening in\r\nher seat, the woman let out a bleat that surpassed even her previous\r\nefforts. Even George might have envied the torment in her voice as it\r\nsoared, swooped, scaled the heights and dipped into soul-shattering\r\ndepths. At its completion, the blonde turned and took a clawing swipe\r\nat Marc\'s face.\r\n\r\nMarc ducked. "That\'s the stuff!" he said happily, noting from the\r\ncorner of his eye that he had finally gained the undivided attention\r\nof the police force. Pinching the blonde again and nodding his\r\nsatisfaction at the second chorus, he threw the coupe into gear, cut\r\nacross traffic and headed down the speedway. It was only a moment\r\nbefore the wail of a siren mingled with the shrill vocalizations of\r\nhis companion. He pushed the gas feed to the floor.\r\n\r\nTo the witnesses along the speedway, the pedestrians, the vendors, the\r\nshop owners and just plain malingerers, the events of the evening were\r\nnever entirely clear. Some, judging simply by the volume of noise,\r\nsettled for the notion that what had passed was nothing more than an\r\noverly exuberant wedding procession. The sticklers, however, rejected\r\nthis notion flatly, pointing to the significant details of the affair.\r\n\r\nWhich, they demanded to know, was the wedding couple? Certainly it\r\ncouldn\'t have been the redhead and the wailing man in the green sedan;\r\ncertainly no bride--or at least very few--had ever used that kind\r\nof language to her groom on the wedding night. And it took the most\r\nwretched husband years to achieve the note of despair which this poor\r\nfellow was loosing on the evening air.\r\n\r\nAs for the black limousine, that was out. Though its occupants seemed\r\nlocked together in some sort of mad embrace, the arrangement appeared\r\nto have its roots in terror rather than affection.\r\n\r\nThe couple in the coupe that followed was even more difficult to wedge\r\ninto the picture of the young couple united. After all, wasn\'t she\r\nscreaming her lungs out and hammering on his head with both fists?\r\n\r\nAs for the police who followed--and they probably knew the truth of the\r\nmatter--they looked shocked to the core. So there simply wasn\'t any\r\nanswer for it until the morning papers came out.\r\n\r\nThe participants in the demented chase along the speedway, however,\r\nwere far too engrossed in their own problems to care for the conflict\r\nthey introduced into the lives of innocent bystanders. Toffee, for one,\r\ncould not have been less concerned; she was too mad at George.\r\n\r\n"Stop that caterwauling!" she yelled. "Stop it, you idiot."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGeorge pulled his disconnected head inside the window and eyed Toffee\r\nowlishly. His other parts adjusted themselves and the head sank into\r\nToffee\'s lap. There, gazing up at her, it lazily crossed its eyes and\r\nbegan to whimper piteously.\r\n\r\n"Ugh!" Toffee cried. "I\'ll go mad!"\r\n\r\nThe head relaxed its face obligingly into an expression of\r\nfeeble-minded delight, letting its tongue loll loosely from the corner\r\nof its mouth.\r\n\r\n"That\'s all!" Toffee screamed. "I\'m getting out of here!"\r\n\r\nWithout further consideration for the occupants of the limousine and\r\nthe approaching curve, she relinquished the wheel, threw the car door\r\nopen, and with one last agonized glance at the loathsome head, which\r\nwas now foaming prettily at the mouth, prepared to depart its company.\r\nIn the limousine this bit of action was not unobserved.\r\n\r\n"She\'s trying to get away!" the congressman yelled. "Stop her!"\r\n\r\nThe thug turned to the window and looked. "Get back!" he hollered. "Get\r\nback or I\'ll blast you!"\r\n\r\n"Go ahead," Toffee cried. "It\'ll be a positive pleasure next to what\r\nI\'ve just been through."\r\n\r\n"Okay!" the thug said grimly. "You asked for it!"\r\n\r\nHis finger closed down on the trigger. It was just at that moment,\r\nhowever, that the green sedan, no longer benefitted by a driver,\r\nswerved toward the limousine, throwing Toffee back inside. The\r\ncongressman cramped the wheel of the limousine sharply to avoid a\r\ncrash. The gunman, thrown sharply against the door, fired wildly into\r\nthe night. From the rear there was the sound of screeching tires and\r\nforced brakes.\r\n\r\n"Good night!" the congressman panted, righting the limousine as the\r\ngreen sedan veered away again. "What did you hit?"\r\n\r\n"I think it was that coupe back there," the thug said, peering out the\r\nwindow. "I must have hit a tire: it\'s out of control."\r\n\r\n"Good Lord!" the congressman yelled, "the curve\'s right ahead! We\'re\r\npinned in between them. We\'re going to crash. Everybody\'s going to\r\ncrash!"\r\n\r\nNo sooner was this dire prediction out of the congressman\'s mouth than\r\nit became a deafening reality. Ahead, the green sedan raced headlong\r\ninto the concrete embankment with a rending smash and almost literally\r\nflattened itself into two dimensions.\r\n\r\nThis was the signal for the two lesser crashes that followed. The\r\nlimousine engaged its radiator forcibly into the wreckage just in time\r\nto receive a skidding broadside from the coupe.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nA moment of silence followed, emphasized by the approaching scream of a\r\nsiren. The police car jolted to a stop and the two cops ran forward to\r\nthe scene of destruction. They reached the coupe first.\r\n\r\n"Here!" the first cop said. "What\'s going on?"\r\n\r\nThe faded blonde jutted her head out of the window. "He blew out my\r\ntire!" she rasped. "Not to mention all that pinching!"\r\n\r\n"Pinching?" the cop asked curiously. "What kind of pinching, lady?\r\nWhere?"\r\n\r\n"All kinds of pinching," the woman said evilly. "Everywhere."\r\n\r\nThe cop peered at Marc. "Why\'s he dressed in that nightshirt?"\r\n\r\n"How should I know?" the woman said. "Maybe he thinks he\'s cute or\r\nsomething."\r\n\r\nThe cop leaned closer. "Here, you," he said, "why are you dressed like\r\nthat?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m tired," Marc said exhaustedly, "and I want to go to bed. I had a\r\nlittle drink about an hour ago...."\r\n\r\n"Stop that now," the cop barked. "No nonsense."\r\n\r\n"But it\'s all perfectly true," Marc said.\r\n\r\nThe cop started to speak further, but he caught sight of the\r\ncongressman and his companion climbing out of the limousine and tore\r\nhimself away.\r\n\r\n"There are people dying in that car!" the congressman shouted\r\ntragically, hurrying forward. "It\'s awful, officer!"\r\n\r\n"All maimed and cut up," the thug put in. "Loose heads and legs and\r\nstuff all over the place."\r\n\r\n"Have you seen them?" the policeman asked.\r\n\r\n"Well, they must be," the congressman put in quickly. "How could it be\r\notherwise? The man in the car is Marc Pillsworth. I saw him just before\r\nthe crash."\r\n\r\nThe policeman did a take. "Yeah?"\r\n\r\n"Sure," the thug said excitedly. "Only now he\'s all cut up--loose head\r\nand arms and...!"\r\n\r\n"Shut up," the congressman snapped.\r\n\r\n"They might still be alive," the cop said. "We\'ve got to do something\r\nabout it."\r\n\r\n"Indeed we do," the congressman said. "Perhaps we can assist them."\r\n\r\n"Come on," the cop said. "You can give a hand."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nDutifully the three turned to the sedan. They turned and then stopped\r\nwith a harmonized gasp, the cop taking the bass. In the moment of\r\ntheir turning there had been a sudden movement in the car and the\r\ndoor had swung partially open. In the opening there appeared a leg of\r\nprovocative shapeliness.\r\n\r\n"A leg!" the thug shuddered. "I told you!"\r\n\r\n"A dame\'s leg," the cop breathed. "And just think what the rest of her\r\nmust have been like with a leg like that! Just imagine...!" He sucked\r\nin his breath as the leg began to show unexpected signs of life. It\r\nquivered, turned and was quickly joined by a mate of equal perfection.\r\nIt was only a moment before Toffee appeared in total, quite unmarked.\r\nHer mood, however, was hostile. Quitting the ruined car she turned back\r\nto the door and thrust her head inside.\r\n\r\n"Of all the beastly, rotten, evil-minded, stinking things to do to a\r\ngirl!" she snapped. "Come out of there you slimy-souled son of Satan\r\nand fight like a man. I\'ll teach you to make foul passes at a girl when\r\nshe is stuck under a clutch. I\'ll show you...!"\r\n\r\n"Good gosh!" the cop said. "Who\'s she talking to?"\r\n\r\n"She must be hysterical," the congressman said, thoroughly shaken.\r\n"Probably got a crack on the head and isn\'t accountable for what she\'s\r\nsaying."\r\n\r\n"That\'s certainly no way to talk to the dead," the cop said.\r\n\r\n"It\'s no way to talk to the living," the thug said. "If she hauled off\r\nat me like that I\'d rather be dead."\r\n\r\n"The poor child\'s obviously insane," the congressman said firmly.\r\n"There\'s no question about it."\r\n\r\nMeanwhile Toffee was still at it. "Come out of there, you hulking\r\nlout," she grated, "before I come in there and drag you out by your\r\nears!"\r\n\r\n"Poor little thing," the cop said sadly. "She really believes Mr.\r\nPillsworth can come out of that car. She refuses to believe he\'s dead."\r\n\r\nBy now Toffee had stepped forward and yanked the door all the way\r\nopen. As the three in the background stared in varying degrees of\r\napprehension, a thin figure in a brief linen gown crawled out on its\r\nhands and knees. The congressman swayed slightly as though about to\r\nfaint.\r\n\r\n"You look more natural down on all fours, you beast," Toffee rasped.\r\n"I ought to kick you right in the slats. Get up and try to face me if\r\nyou\'ve the nerve!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nApparently the shock of the accident had given George\'s ectoplasm a\r\nfurther jolt for now he was completely materialized. He looked up at\r\nToffee ruefully and got to his feet.\r\n\r\n"I was only trying to get you loose," he said.\r\n\r\n"The way you were pawing me was enough to get any girl loose," Toffee\r\nsaid. "Just don\'t try it again."\r\n\r\n"Gawd a\'mighty!" the thug whispered. "Pillsworth!"\r\n\r\n"Pillsworth?" the cop said. "But that\'s the same guy who was pinching\r\nthe other dame in the coupe. My gosh! how he gets around!"\r\n\r\nJust then the other policeman, who had retreated to the background,\r\narrived on the scene with Marc and the blonde in custody.\r\n\r\n"Hey," he said, "I caught this creep on the creep. He was trying to\r\nsneak out."\r\n\r\nThe cop looked quickly at Marc, then back to George. "It\'s the same\r\nguy!" he said. "Which one of you birds is Pillsworth?"\r\n\r\nMarc and George went smoothly into their routine of pointing to each\r\nother in unison.\r\n\r\n"He is!" they said.\r\n\r\nThe cop turned to Toffee. "Do you know which is which?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Sure," Toffee said and nodded at George. "He\'s Pillsworth."\r\n\r\n"She\'s crazy," George retorted hotly. "She\'s as crazy as bedbugs in a\r\nbathtub."\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," the thug put in. "She\'s a looney if there ever was one."\r\n\r\nMarc moved urgently to gain the cop\'s attention. "You\'ve got to arrest\r\nthat man," he said, pointing at the congressman. "He\'s a subversive and\r\na murderer."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe congressman whirled about. "You must be insane, sir!" he rasped in\r\nfrantic denial.\r\n\r\n"_You_ must be," Marc said. "You must have been ripe for the hatch\r\nyears ago."\r\n\r\n"You\'re a fine one to talk," the blonde put in nastily. "Officer, this\r\nman is off his rocker like a busted hobby horse. He\'s done nothing but\r\npinch me ever since we met."\r\n\r\nToffee levelled her gaze at Marc. "What were you doing pinching that\r\ntomato?" she demanded. "Just what were you getting at?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, don\'t be crazy," Marc said distractedly.\r\n\r\n"Oh, so I\'m crazy, am I?" Toffee said, doubling her fists.\r\n\r\n"You sure are, sister," the thug put in. "You\'re the most hopped up\r\ndame I ever saw." He turned to the cop. "She ought to be locked up."\r\n\r\n"Oh, yeah?" Toffee said. "At least I didn\'t put anyone in a busted car\r\nand send them off to get killed. Officer, I want you to arrest that\r\nkiller."\r\n\r\n"Look, officer," Marc insisted, "you\'ve got to take this man into\r\ncustody. He\'s a menace to the whole country."\r\n\r\n"If you take anyone in, officer," the blonde put in harshly, "make it\r\nthis skinny bimbo. Pinch him like he pinched me."\r\n\r\nThe congressman moved in aggressively toward Marc. "You\'re making\r\nslanderous accusations!" he blustered. "You should be committed to an\r\ninstitution!"\r\n\r\n"You\'re crazy!" Marc raged.\r\n\r\n"_You\'re_ crazy!" the blonde screeched.\r\n\r\n"_You\'re_ crazy!" Toffee hollered at the blonde.\r\n\r\n"_You\'re_ crazy!" the thug insisted moodily.\r\n\r\nThe cop turned dizzily to his companion and held out a palsied hand.\r\n"Hurry!" he pleaded, "call the wagon, and let\'s take the whole bunch of\r\nthem in. In another minute _I\'m_ going to be crazy!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe morning sun poured through the high windows of the courtroom,\r\nwasting its brightness on a scene of sullen dementia. Judge Carper\'s\r\nheavy face had achieved a shade of dyspeptic vermillion in record time\r\nthis morning. Even the flies clung to the walls in muted terror as his\r\ngavel banged on the substantial wood of the bench and set the room\r\natremble.\r\n\r\n"Silence!" the judge roared. "Silence, damnit! And if one more\r\ndefendant makes just one more crack about the sanity of any other\r\ndefendant I\'ll lock the whole crew of you up and melt the key down for\r\na watch fob." He ran his shaking hand over his forehead. "Besides, so\r\nfar I don\'t even know which ones of you are the defendants and which\r\nare the complainants." He turned to the policeman. "Do you know?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m not sure," the cop admitted uneasily. "I think they\'re all both."\r\n\r\n"Both what?" the judge asked confusedly.\r\n\r\n"Both defendants and complainants. As far as I can tell everybody\'s mad\r\nas hell at everybody else. It sort of goes around in a circle."\r\n\r\n"And I\'m burned up at the lot of them," the judge said malignantly.\r\n"Who are those two over there without any clothes on?"\r\n\r\n"I think they lost their clothes in the crash," the cop said vaguely.\r\n"The guy is really two guys, so it\'s hard to tell."\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"There are really two guys like that," the cop said. "Dressed alike."\r\n\r\nThe judge peered across at Marc with deep speculation. "I only see one\r\nof him," he said dryly.\r\n\r\n"The other one disappeared," the cop said, casting down his eyes.\r\n"He--well, sort of evaporated."\r\n\r\n"Evaporated? What are you talking about?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s a fact, your honor. It happened on the way in. The only way I can\r\nexplain it is that one minute he was there and the next he just sort of\r\nmelted away."\r\n\r\n"Rooney," the judge said, "have you lost your wits?"\r\n\r\n"It wouldn\'t surprise me, judge," the cop sighed. "Everyone else has.\r\nWhy not me?"\r\n\r\n"There\'s only one man there, Rooney," the judge said harshly. "And\r\njudging by those skinny legs of his, maybe not even that."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"Are you bucking for another vacation, Rooney, is that it?"\r\n\r\n"Well, your honor, I do feel tired. It seemed to come over me all of a\r\nsudden, after I ran into all those people."\r\n\r\n"All right, we\'ll see what can be done. In the meantime let\'s have\r\nno more of this falderol about one man being two, only one of them\r\nevaporated."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"Yes, your honor," Rooney said, greatly saddened. "There\'s only one\r\nman. I guess I was mistaken."\r\n\r\n"Or drunk," the judge murmured sourly and turned his gaze to the\r\nassortment before him. "Now what happened with this gang?"\r\n\r\n"They were all in a wreck that involved three cars. The young lady in\r\nthe underskirt was driving the first one. She claims that the dark man\r\nwith the scar tried to murder her by forcing her to drive a car with a\r\nbroken steering gear."\r\n\r\n"What does he say?"\r\n\r\n"He says the young lady is mentally unstable and of low character. It\r\nseems that he and the congressman observed her in the car for some time\r\nbefore the crash. They say that her behavior was most erratic, that she\r\nwailed and shrieked and at one point tried to abandon the car in full\r\nmotion."\r\n\r\n"How else can you abandon a car?" the judge said sharply. "You have to\r\nbe in full motion."\r\n\r\n"I mean the car was in full motion."\r\n\r\n"I see. Where was this gentleman and the congressman while they were\r\ndoing all this observing?"\r\n\r\n"They were in the second car. The congressman was driving. The dark man\r\nis his body-guard. He was cleaning his gun at the time and that\'s how\r\nhe happened to shoot the third car, although the young lady insists he\r\nwas trying to shoot her."\r\n\r\n"I think I\'ve lost the thread," the judge said foggily. "Who was in the\r\nthird car?"\r\n\r\n"The man with the skinny legs who says he isn\'t Pillsworth, and a\r\nblonde woman."\r\n\r\n"He says he isn\'t Pillsworth and a blonde woman?" the judge asked, his\r\neyes loosening in their sockets. "Why should he say a thing like that?"\r\n\r\n"No, no," the cop said earnestly, "he just says he isn\'t Pillsworth."\r\n\r\n"Then he admits to being a blonde woman?" the judge gasped. "He must be\r\nmad!"\r\n\r\n"No," the cop said, "he doesn\'t admit anything about being a blonde\r\nwoman."\r\n\r\n"Then he denies being a blonde woman," the judge said with relief. "I\r\nwish you\'d give me this story straight. Who accused him of being a\r\nblonde woman in the first place?"\r\n\r\n"No one," the cop said, almost tearfully. "He was only accused of being\r\nPillsworth."\r\n\r\n"Pillsworth? You mean the fellow the hospital\'s looking for? Who said\r\nhe was Pillsworth?"\r\n\r\nA look of doom came into the cop\'s eyes. "The--the other one, your\r\nhonor," he said.\r\n\r\n"The other what?" the judge glowered. "Stop being evasive and answer my\r\nquestions."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nRooney swallowed fatefully. "The other Pillsworth," he answered. "He\r\naccused Pillsworth of being Pillsworth--that is unless he\'s Pillsworth\r\nhimself. Only he melted away so I guess we\'ll never really know. The\r\nblonde woman insists she can\'t identify him."\r\n\r\nThere was a dreadful silence as the judge tapped the palm of his hand\r\nwith the gavel. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling then levelled it\r\nslowly on Rooney.\r\n\r\n"So we\'re back to the blonde woman again, are we?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m afraid so," Rooney admitted weakly. "That\'s her over there,\r\nlooking mad."\r\n\r\n"I had hoped we were through with the blonde woman," the judge said\r\nacidly. "I thought we\'d washed the blonde woman up."\r\n\r\n"No, your honor, I\'m afraid not."\r\n\r\n"This isn\'t the same blonde woman that Pillsworth denies being, is it?"\r\n\r\n"No, sir."\r\n\r\n"Does she deny that she\'s Pillsworth, is that it?"\r\n\r\n"No, sir," Rooney sighed hopelessly. "She\'s just a blonde woman. She\r\nrefuses to give her name because her husband\'s a butcher."\r\n\r\n"Is she a defendant or a complainant?"\r\n\r\n"A complainant," the cop said. "She said that Pillsworth stole her car\r\nand pinched her. That is if he\'s Pillsworth, and he denies it."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t you mean he pinched her car?"\r\n\r\n"No, sir. He stole her car, but he pinched her--on the thigh."\r\n\r\n"My word!" the judge said.\r\n\r\nThe cop nodded. "She wants to sue someone, only since there were two\r\nof them she doesn\'t know which one did the pinching. She can\'t be sure\r\nwhether it was this Pillsworth or the other one--if you follow my\r\nmeaning."\r\n\r\nThe judge paled. "Are you being deliberately cryptic, Rooney, or is it\r\nsimply that you can\'t see your way clear to be clear, if I make myself\r\nclear."\r\n\r\n"I\'m afraid I don\'t follow you, your honor."\r\n\r\n"Just a taste of your own medicine, Rooney," the judge said vengefully.\r\n"How do you like it?" He turned his gaze moodily on the blonde. "About\r\nthis blonde...?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, your honor?"\r\n\r\n"She gets everything all snarled up. Every time she enters the picture\r\nit ceases to make sense. Do you suppose this would all clear up if I\r\njust had her thrown out of court?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t think so. With or without her, things are snarled up just the\r\nsame. I\'ve never seen so much snarling in all my life; these people\r\njust don\'t seem to like each other."\r\n\r\n"What about this fellow who denies he\'s Pillsworth?" the judge asked.\r\n"Is he the only pure defendant in the bunch?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, no, your honor. He\'s the biggest complainant of the lot. And he\'s\r\nfar from pure. He\'s accusing the congressman of being the head of a\r\ngang of subversives who are planning to kill the entire population with\r\nbacteria."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe judge leaned across the bench, plainly scandalized. "The\r\ncongressman!" he gasped. "Why Congressman Entwerp was a classmate of\r\nmine!"\r\n\r\n"Yes, your honor. And he\'s threatened suit against this fellow for\r\nslander."\r\n\r\n"Good," the judge said. "Have this Pillsworth or whoever he is brought\r\nbefore the bench. Obviously, he\'s a low criminal type. It sticks out\r\nall over him."\r\n\r\nThe cop nodded and turned in Marc\'s direction. "You," he said. "The\r\njudge will hear you."\r\n\r\nAcross the room, however, Marc gave no sign of hearing. Instead, he was\r\ngazing intently at the vacant chair next to his own. On his face was an\r\nexpression of anxious annoyance.\r\n\r\n"Now, look, George," he said, "You owe it to humanity to show yourself\r\nand help get this mess cleared up. Why not be a good loser for a\r\nchange?"\r\n\r\nThe empty chair shifted, just perceptibly, with an air of complacency.\r\n\r\n"Maybe they\'ll hang you," George replied hopefully from thin air.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be silly," Marc said. "There\'s no reason why they should. Come\r\non, now, be a good fellow and help get this over with."\r\n\r\n"Oh, I\'m going to help get it over with," George said pleasantly. "When\r\nI\'m through, they\'ll lower the boom on you so hard you\'ll be the first\r\nman in history to be buried in an envelope."\r\n\r\nJust then Toffee leaned forward and touched Marc\'s arm. "The judge\r\nwants to speak to you," she said. "Come on, let\'s go."\r\n\r\nMarc glanced around. "Did he call you too?"\r\n\r\n"Well, no," Toffee admitted, "but I\'m an interested party. I want to\r\nsee that you get fair treatment."\r\n\r\n"Couldn\'t you just stay out of it?" Marc pleaded. "Couldn\'t I just\r\nhandle this myself?"\r\n\r\n"Nonsense," Toffee said. "You need me. Come on, the old gaffer\'s\r\nbeginning to look apoplectic again."\r\n\r\n"Oh, all right," Marc sighed. Getting up he followed Toffee to a\r\nposition before the bench. The judge glowered down at them critically.\r\n\r\n"So glad you finally found you could come," he said.\r\n\r\n"Thank you," Toffee beamed. "It\'s nice of you to have us."\r\n\r\nThe gavel barked irritably. There was silence until the judge\'s\r\neyebrows ceased to twitch.\r\n\r\n"What are you doing here?" the judge enquired with forced composure.\r\n"Who called you forward?"\r\n\r\n"Lots of people have called me forward," Toffee said, "but that\'s just\r\ntalk, judge. I\'m just impulsive."\r\n\r\n"Silence!" the judge said. "Good God, girl, no one asked you for any\r\nsordid confessions. I just want to know what you\'re doing here?"\r\n\r\nToffee nodded toward Marc. "I\'m with him," she said.\r\n\r\n"Then he\'s the man who was with you in the green sedan?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, no." Toffee shook her head. "He\'s the other one."\r\n\r\nThe judge blanched. "The other one?" he asked apprehensively.\r\n\r\nToffee nodded. "They\'re exactly alike. Only this one is nicer. That\'s\r\nwhy I switched."\r\n\r\nThe judge raised his gavel warningly, and turned to Marc. "Are you\r\ntwins, sir?"\r\n\r\nMarc opened his mouth to speak, but before he could George\'s voice\r\nsounded immediately behind him.\r\n\r\n"Do I look like twins, you thick-headed joker?" the voice asked. "And\r\nif you must drink in the morning, for Godsake lay off the cheap stuff\r\nso you don\'t see double. I always heard justice was blind but I didn\'t\r\nknow it was blind drunk."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was an ominous silence in the court as the judge raked Marc with\r\na glance of pure loathing. "Are you deliberately in contempt of court?"\r\nhe asked.\r\n\r\nAgain Marc started to speak and again the voice beat him to it. "In\r\nit?" it said. "I\'m fairly swimming in high octane contempt."\r\n\r\nThe blonde who had been watching these proceedings with growing\r\nagitation suddenly sprang from her chair. "That\'s him!" she yelled\r\nhysterically. "I\'m positive!"\r\n\r\n"Be quiet, you!" the judge barked. "I\'ve had enough out of you!"\r\n\r\n"But he pinched me!" the blonde cried.\r\n\r\n"You\'re lucky that\'s all he did," the judge snapped.\r\n\r\n"But you don\'t know where!"\r\n\r\nThe judge eyed her distantly. "With that lumpy figure of yours," he\r\nsaid, "it could scarcely matter. Now, shut up." He turned back to Marc.\r\n"I understand you\'ve been making libelous remarks against Congressman\r\nEntwerp."\r\n\r\nMarc looked around hopelessly, afraid to open his mouth lest George\r\nwould take over again. He compressed his lips into a thin line.\r\n\r\n"Speak up, man!"\r\n\r\nMarc looked up unhappily. "I--I--," he murmured fearfully.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the matter with you?" the judge asked. "Let\'s hear your\r\naccusations against my good friend the congressman."\r\n\r\n"The congressman?" Marc ventured, then brightened as he noticed there\r\nwas no interference from George. "Oh, yes. The congressman must be\r\nimprisoned at once, your honor. He\'s a national menace. He instigated a\r\npropaganda program to dope the public against the threat of the foreign\r\npowers. But worst of all, he has enough bacteria culture to murder the\r\nentire population."\r\n\r\n"And what\'s more," Toffee broke in, "he pinched my gadget."\r\n\r\nThe judge\'s eyes swiveled about hauntedly. "He _what_?"\r\n\r\n"Pinched my gadget," Toffee insisted. "The one with the button."\r\n\r\n"Now just a minute," the judge said a little wildly. "Wasn\'t it the\r\nblonde woman who had her gadget pinched?"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be silly," Toffee said. "She hasn\'t a gadget to be pinched."\r\n\r\n"She hasn\'t?" the judge said in a startled whisper. "What happened to\r\nher gadget?"\r\n\r\n"I guess she just didn\'t have one in the first place," Toffee said.\r\n"You can\'t just go out and buy them, you know."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe judge turned to the cop. "Do you know anything about why this\r\nblonde woman doesn\'t have a gadget?" he asked interestedly.\r\n\r\n"Search me," the cop said. "I didn\'t know she didn\'t. Maybe it\'s\r\nbecause her husband\'s a butcher. Maybe...."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t," the judge cried, shuddering. "Don\'t go on! I don\'t even want\r\nto think about it."\r\n\r\n"Well, who cares about her gadget anyway?" Toffee asked bewilderedly.\r\n"It\'s _my_ gadget I\'m trying to tell you about."\r\n\r\n"And I don\'t want to hear about it," the judge said shortly. "This\r\ncourt is no place for examination room discussions."\r\n\r\n"Or much of anything else," Toffee retorted angrily. "Especially\r\njustice."\r\n\r\n"Look, judge," Marc put in desperately. "You\'ve got to listen to me.\r\nAbout all this bacteria...."\r\n\r\n"Bacteria?" the judge said, startled. "What about bacteria?"\r\n\r\n"It\'s a threat," Marc said. "It\'s got to be stopped."\r\n\r\nThe judge nodded. "My dentist said the same thing the other day. Are\r\nyou a dentist?"\r\n\r\n"Of course I\'m not a dentist," Marc said. "It\'s the congressman."\r\n\r\n"That\'s preposterous," the judge said. "The congressman isn\'t a\r\ndentist, never has been. You\'re just trying to rattle me."\r\n\r\nAgain, as Marc started to speak, the voice from behind took over.\r\n"That\'s rich, that is," it slurred. "You were rattled the day you were\r\nborn, you old tosspot, and you\'ve been getting balmier ever since. If\r\nyou have the brain of a gnat...."\r\n\r\nThe gavel smashed down on the bench like the crack of doom.\r\n\r\n"Go!" the judge said. "Go and leave me alone! You\'re all trying to\r\ndrive me out of my mind."\r\n\r\n"With a mind like yours," Toffee said, "it would be a fast drive on a\r\nkiddy car."\r\n\r\n"Go!" the judge screamed. "Go away!"\r\n\r\nDefeated by sheer volume, Marc and Toffee retreated back to their\r\nchairs and sat down. The one next to Marc\'s scraped back a trifle of\r\nits own volition.\r\n\r\n"You fiend!" Marc hissed at the empty chair. "That was a fine mess,\r\nwasn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"Glad you admire my work," George said complacently out of thin air.\r\n"Isn\'t it remarkable how exactly alike our voices sound?"\r\n\r\n"Go to hell," Marc said sullenly.\r\n\r\n"If I do I\'ll probably meet you there," George said. "The old boy has\r\nyou marked down for a sanity test. I heard him say so as you left up\r\nthere. Somehow, it warms me to think of you locked up with a bunch of\r\nhomicidal maniacs. Who\'s to say what might happen to you?"\r\n\r\nThe gavel rapped on the bench again, this time more calmly.\r\n\r\n"I\'d like to speak to the congressman," the judge announced. "Not that\r\nI put any stock in the ridiculous accusations of that black-hearted\r\nnit-wit, but I would like to talk to someone rational for a change."\r\n\r\nAcross the room, the congressman rose from his chair with portly\r\ncomposure.\r\n\r\n"I\'m happy for the opportunity to defend myself against the ravings of\r\nthis lunatic," he said smoothly, "though I\'m certain the court hasn\'t\r\ntaken them the least bit seriously."\r\n\r\n"Of course not, congressman," the judge said grandly. "This court is\r\nalways fair and impartial. Step up and have a chair. I\'m sorry I can\'t\r\noffer you a drink during session, but perhaps we could have lunch\r\ntogether somewhere?"\r\n\r\n"Good grief!" Toffee whispered. "They\'re carrying on like old\r\nsweet-hearts."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe congressman smiled pityingly at Marc. "Actually, I have the\r\ngreatest compassion for our poor friend here," he said magnanimously.\r\n"Who knows what dreadful experience drove him out of his senses?"\r\n\r\n"Why the old foghorn!" Marc hissed between clenched teeth. "He\'s got\r\nenough gall to float a fleet."\r\n\r\n"As for his fantastic charges," the congressman continued, "they\'re\r\nalmost too silly to refute." He beamed on the judge. "I think you know\r\njust about how subversive I am, your honor."\r\n\r\nThe judge smiled broadly. "Call me Ralph," he said.\r\n\r\n"Okay, Ralph," the congressman smiled. "And about that bacteria\r\nbusiness; the only bacteria culture I have is home in the refrigerator.\r\nI just happened to let some cheese go mouldy."\r\n\r\nThe judge laughed immoderately. "Oh, Congressman!" he gasped, wiping\r\nhis eyes. "You always were a wit!"\r\n\r\nToffee frowned her disapproval. "This is worse than television," she\r\nsaid.\r\n\r\n"What am I going to do?" Marc said. "I can\'t let him get away with it.\r\nI\'ll wind up in an asylum while he sells the whole country down the\r\nriver."\r\n\r\nToffee nodded morosely. "We\'ve got to think of something," she said.\r\n"If they won\'t listen to sense, I guess the only thing to do is resort\r\nto madness."\r\n\r\n"How do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"Trade seats with me," Toffee said. "I want to talk to George."\r\n\r\n"It won\'t do any good. He won\'t listen to sense any more than the rest\r\nof them."\r\n\r\n"That\'s all right," Toffee said. "What I have in mind is more\r\nnonsense--and a little hypnotism."\r\n\r\n"Hypnotism?"\r\n\r\n"Uh-huh. I told you I\'ve been studying. Come on, trade."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs unobtrusively as possible they changed seats. Toffee settled\r\nherself, crossed her legs with care, and turned to the vacant seat at\r\nher side. When she spoke her voice was husky and confidential.\r\n\r\n"Look, George," she said, "I\'ve been thinking...."\r\n\r\nThe chair quivered interestedly. "Yes?" George\'s voice said out of\r\nemptiness. "What about?"\r\n\r\n"You and me," Toffee said. "I\'ve just been going over things in my\r\nmind, and you know, George, I\'ve really been sort of foolish."\r\n\r\n"How do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"Well take the way I always favor Marc against you. Suddenly it just\r\noccurred to me that there\'s no logical reason for it. After all you\'re\r\njust alike--except for a few little differences, of course."\r\n\r\n"Oh?" George said, a note of interest creeping into his voice. "What\r\ndifferences?"\r\n\r\n"Well, for instance, you\'re more aggressive, George. You have a more\r\nactive, dynamic personality. You\'re the sort who knows what he wants\r\nand goes out after it."\r\n\r\n"I suppose you could say that," George admitted. "What else?"\r\n\r\n"You\'re cleverer, too. Look at the way you\'ve got Marc bottled up right\r\nnow, for example. He\'s a dead duck. In fact, to tell you the truth,\r\nGeorge, you make Marc look pretty sick. I\'m beginning to think a girl\r\nwould be much better off with you."\r\n\r\nGeorge cleared his throat. "You\'re sure you mean it?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Of course I do," Toffee said. "Why wouldn\'t I, George? It\'s not just\r\nthat you\'re cleverer and more dominant than Marc, there are other\r\nlittle things too, things only a woman would notice. Your eyes, for\r\ninstance."\r\n\r\n"My eyes?"\r\n\r\nToffee nodded. "Uh-huh. Your eyes are ever so much more exciting than\r\nMarc\'s. I don\'t know what it is, but there\'s a subtle difference. I\r\nguess it\'s personality. I\'ve always noticed it."\r\n\r\n"Oh, my eyes aren\'t all that good," George demurred. "Pleasant and\r\nfriendly, perhaps, but...."\r\n\r\n"Oh, much more than that," Toffee insisted. "Flashing and roguish."\r\n\r\n"You really think so?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly. That and more." Toffee paused for a moment, appeared\r\nhesitant. "George...?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, Toffee?"\r\n\r\n"Would you show me your eyes? Just materialize them for a moment so I\r\ncan gaze into them?"\r\n\r\n"Do you really like them that much?"\r\n\r\n"Please, George...."\r\n\r\n"Well ... all right."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAnd so it was that the congressman, long distracted by a view of Toffee\r\nfawning on a vacant chair, suddenly found himself staring across the\r\nroom at two disembodied eyes which lolled in mid-air, swiveling and\r\nrolling about in a delirious attempt to be flashing and roguish. He\r\ncoughed in a strangled way and glanced around at the judge.\r\n\r\nThe judge, had the congressman been astute enough to notice, had\r\nsuddenly gone white about the gills and showed a shifty disinclination\r\nto meet his gaze. The truth of the matter was that the judge, similarly\r\nbaffled by Toffee\'s seductive attitude toward the chair, had also been\r\nsubjected to the nasty sight of George\'s grotesque eye exercises. He,\r\nlike the congressman, had experienced a feeling of giddiness at the\r\nnape of the neck and decided against mentioning the incident. After\r\ngazing upon a pair of air-borne eyes which have just crossed themselves\r\nin their zeal to convey the charm of the rake, one is generally loath\r\nto bring the subject up with anyone save the local psychiatrist.\r\nHowever, had either gentleman had the least inkling of the mad delights\r\nyet to come, they might have well bolted the room, shouting the news to\r\nthe world.\r\n\r\nThe fact was that Toffee, in her endeavor to hypnotize George, was\r\nmeeting with extraordinary success. Having gazed into George\'s eyes\r\nwith his full cooperation it was only the matter of a moment before\r\nthe hapless shade was completely mesmerized. The eyes, under Toffee\'s\r\nsteady gaze, grew heavy, drooped, closed altogether, then reopened with\r\na slightly dazed appearance. It was not a pleasant sight, but Toffee\r\nappeared to find satisfaction in it.\r\n\r\nNot so, however, the judge and the congressman. Watching these\r\ndevelopments with sidelong anxiety, they were sore put to it to\r\ncontinue with the business at hand.\r\n\r\n"Yes, yes," the judge said vaguely, "you were telling me about this\r\nblackguard who\'s been saying all these filthy things about you...?"\r\n\r\n"Eh?" the congressman said, starting. "_Oh!_ Oh, yes. This fellow, the\r\nblackguard. I was saying that if he was half a man...!"\r\n\r\nThe congressman got no further for it was precisely in this moment\r\nthat Toffee commanded George to materialize. There must have been,\r\nhowever, a lack of authority in her tone, for the results fell short of\r\nperfection. In fact, they fell short by exactly fifty percent. George,\r\nstarting at the top of his head, blossomed rapidly into being down to\r\nthe waist and there, quite devoid of his lower quarters, stopped. In\r\neffect, no sooner did the congressman speak of half a man than the\r\norder was filled to exact specifications. The congressman not only\r\nstopped speaking, but stopped breathing as well.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nA nervous hush fell over the courtroom, for by now several others had\r\nbegun to notice the half-portion George and were just as reticent to\r\nmention the matter as either the congressman or the judge. The judge\r\nclutched grimly to the bench for support and forced himself to look\r\naway. He laughed a dry, cackling laugh.\r\n\r\n"Well, well," he said with feeble heartiness, "we mustn\'t fall into a\r\nreverie, must we? You haven\'t half--I mean you haven\'t really begun to\r\ntell me about these slurs against you, congressman."\r\n\r\nThere was something markedly distraught in the congressman\'s expression\r\nas he turned back to the bench. He fiddled with his tie, reached into\r\nhis pocket, took something out and began to finger it nervously. It was\r\nToffee\'s gadget.\r\n\r\n"Well," he babbled. "I was only saying that anyone with half--I mean\r\nany mind at all would be able to see ... uh ... see...."\r\n\r\nAs he spoke, the congressman turned the gadget absently in his hand. It\r\nwas on the fifth turn, when it was pointing directly at the judge, that\r\nhis finger inadvertently snagged against the button and shoved it to\r\none side. Instantly, as though the judge had never been there at all,\r\nthe bench was starkly and dramatically deserted, with only the gavel\r\nleft to mark its recent occupancy. The congressman gaped unbelievingly,\r\nshook his head, closed his eyes, then opened them again. The judge was\r\nstill absent.\r\n\r\nThe congressman turned to the others and found himself and the bench\r\nthe focal points for a sea of shocked eyes. He shuddered, pressed the\r\ngadget self-consciously in a fit of nerves. The button snapped in the\r\nopposite direction. In the next instant there was a shrill scream from\r\nthe faded blonde.\r\n\r\nThose in court turned in unison to find that the judge, just as\r\nsuddenly as he had departed, had reappeared. This time, however, he\r\nwas comfortably ensconced in the lap of the distraught blonde. In a\r\ncourtroom where many odd things had recently taken place, it was the\r\ngeneral concensus that when the judge of that court sneaks from the\r\nbench, creeps up on the nearest blonde and hurls himself into her lap,\r\nsome sort of climax has been reached. A murmur of indignation rose\r\nthrough the room.\r\n\r\nThe blonde, for her part, agreed with the concensus, but did not stop\r\nat an indignant protest. Doubling up her fist she belted the judge a\r\nnasty blow in the eye.\r\n\r\n"You mangey old goat!" she shrieked.\r\n\r\nThe congressman, by now in a veritable frenzy of nervousness, pressed\r\nthe button again. This time it was Toffee who disappeared. The murmur\r\nin the court became still more disturbed. The congressman twiddled the\r\nbutton in the opposite direction.\r\n\r\nMiraculously, Toffee appeared behind the bench in the judge\'s position.\r\nShe picked up the gavel and banged for attention.\r\n\r\n"The court will come to order!" she shrilled happily. "Knock it off,\r\neverybody!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nA new kind of hush fell over the room. The congressman, slack-mouthed,\r\nlooked up at Toffee with the fearful look of a man who has finally\r\nbeen backed to the wall on the question of his own sanity. The judge,\r\nnursing a blow on the left ear as another was being addressed to the\r\nright, looked up in horror.\r\n\r\n"Here!" he yelled. "Get off that bench!"\r\n\r\n"Get off that blonde!" Toffee shot back. "You ought to be ashamed of\r\nyourself." She whirled about on the trembling congressman. "As for you,\r\nyou big fat traitor, I want a clean confession and no nonsense."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t have to talk to you," the congressman said uncertainly. "You\r\ncan\'t make me say anything."\r\n\r\n"Maybe not," Toffee said, "but what about your conscience?"\r\n\r\n"Conscience?" the congressman said uncertainly.\r\n\r\n"The term is unfamiliar to you?" Toffee said. "I\'m not surprised. Let\r\nme try to explain it to you. A guilty conscience can play awful tricks\r\non people." She eyed the congressman closely. "It can even make you\r\nthink you\'re seeing things, for instance."\r\n\r\nThe congressman\'s eyes widened with an awful fear. "See--see things?"\r\nhe quavered. "What kind of things do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"Well," Toffee said reflectively, "say a man is responsible for another\r\nman\'s murder. If his conscience gets ahold of him he may begin to see\r\nthat man as still alive. He may even see two such men, just alike. In\r\nreally bad cases the subject is likely to imagine one of the men in a\r\nstate of mutilation, say cut in half. Of course, that\'s pretty extreme."\r\n\r\nThe congressman glanced compulsively in George\'s direction and turned\r\nashen. George, still at half mast, stared back at him with fixed\r\nblankness. The congressman groaned.\r\n\r\n"Then there\'s the very worst sort of conscience," Toffee went on.\r\n"That\'s when everything gets mixed up. Through a close study of\r\nrecorded cases, we find that the first attack commonly occurs when the\r\ncriminal is confronted with his crimes, usually publicly, as in a\r\ncourt of law."\r\n\r\n"H--how do you mean?" the congressman whispered. "Whu--what happens?"\r\n\r\n"Well, everything begins to appear to be just the opposite of what it\r\nreally is. There is a famous English case in which the victim was so\r\nfar gone that he actually believed that the magistrate on the bench\r\nhad become a beautiful girl. He described the illusion, I believe, as\r\na gorgeous redhead with an exquisite figure and legs too perfect to be\r\ntrue." Toffee laughed gaily. "Can you imagine anyone getting themselves\r\nlooped up to that extent?"\r\n\r\nThe congressman forced a laugh that had all the light-hearted\r\nspontaneity of a coffin lid being pried up at midnight. "That boy was\r\nreally gone, wasn\'t he--your honor?"\r\n\r\n"Call me Ralph, old man," Toffee said.\r\n\r\n"Of course, Ralph, old boy," the congressman said, blinking.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nExperimatically, Toffee opened a drawer under the bench and withdrew a\r\nlarge black cigar. Inserting this into her month, she leaned forward\r\ntoward the congressman. "Gotta light, friend?" she enquired.\r\n\r\nThe congressman started back sharply at this new incongruity. It was a\r\nmoment before he recovered.\r\n\r\n"Sure," he said, taking out a lighter and waggling it beneath the\r\ncigar. "Sure thing."\r\n\r\nTaking a healthy puff on the cigar, Toffee leaned back luxuriously and\r\nblew out a cloud of smoke. "What say we adjourn?" she suggested. "We\r\ncan slip around to the club and cut up a few touches with the boys."\r\n\r\n"Well, all right," the congressman said, attempting a wan smile.\r\n"But...."\r\n\r\nToffee took the cigar from her mouth and leaned forward. "Yes, old man?"\r\n\r\n"About these cases," the congressman said. "That fellow in England...."\r\n\r\n"Oh, the one who thought the magistrate was a beautiful girl? It\'s\r\nhard to believe, of course, but you must remember it was an extreme\r\ncase. The most severe ever recorded, I believe. The funeral was only a\r\nformality, of course, since there wasn\'t even a scrap of him recovered.\r\nExploded, you know."\r\n\r\n"Exploded!"\r\n\r\n"That\'s right. The only thing of its kind in medical history. Poor\r\ndevil went right off. With a great whopping roar, they said. The\r\ndoctors said it was caused by repressed emotion."\r\n\r\n"Oh, Mona!" the congressman groaned.\r\n\r\n"Didn\'t mean to upset you, old friend," Toffee said. "It\'s an\r\nunpleasant thing to talk about."\r\n\r\n"But couldn\'t they have saved him?" the congressman asked. "Suppose\r\nthey had gotten him to a psychiatrist or something before it happened?"\r\n\r\n"Actually it was much simpler than that," Toffee said ponderously.\r\n"The fellow could have saved himself merely by confessing. Confession,\r\nyou know, is the only thing for a bad conscience. Highly recommended\r\nby all the best authorities. Those church people are doing it all the\r\ntime--can\'t stop church people from confessing--and you never heard of\r\none of them exploding, did you?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s right," the congressman said hopefully. His gaze travelled out\r\nthe window, a clouded look of inner turmoil on his face.\r\n\r\n"It was just one of those things," Toffee put in. "One minute this\r\nchap was standing there in court just as hail and hearty as beans and\r\nthe next--boom!--and the spectators were whisking him off their coat\r\nsleeves and passing round the cleaning fluid!"\r\n\r\nThe congressman whirled about in a convulsion of anguish. "I confess!"\r\nhe blurted. "I confess _everything_!"\r\n\r\n"Not everything," Toffee said. "Leave the racy personal stuff for\r\nanother time."\r\n\r\nThe congressman reached out the gadget and dropped it on the bench.\r\nToffee picked it up as he followed that contribution with a key.\r\n\r\n"There\'s the key to the storeroom," the congressman said, "and the\r\none to the private files. And here\'s a list of the members of the\r\norganization." He started as Rooney stepped forward and took him by the\r\narm.\r\n\r\n"Take him away," Toffee said blithely. "Find him a cell with lots of\r\npadding. And take his body-guard too."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs the congressman and the thug disappeared in the custody of Rooney,\r\nToffee mashed out her cigar, quitted the bench and proceeded across the\r\ncourt where the blonde was still throttling the judge.\r\n\r\n"Better let him up, honey," she advised gently. "He\'s turning a very\r\nnasty blue."\r\n\r\nThe blonde stopped to consider the judge\'s complexion and let him drop\r\nto the floor.\r\n\r\n"Loathsome old bore!" she hissed as he sat up and rubbed his neck, then\r\ngot to his feet and tottered off toward the bench. "That\'ll teach you\r\nnext time."\r\n\r\nToffee moved on to Marc. "Well, don\'t just sit there," she said, "Let\'s\r\nget at it."\r\n\r\nMarc looked up apprehensively. "At what?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Everything." Toffee said spaciously. "On the town."\r\n\r\n"Haven\'t you had enough excitement?" Marc asked wearily.\r\n\r\n"Not of the right sort," Toffee said. "What I crave is soft lights and\r\nwine and all that sort of elegant truck. Come on."\r\n\r\n"What about George?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, yes," Toffee reflected, "there is George, isn\'t there?" She\r\nregarded the transfixed half-spirit thoughtfully. "It would serve him\r\nright if we just left him here, cut off at the pockets. Still I don\'t\r\nsuppose it\'s the thing to do...." A look of inspiration came to her\r\nface. "I know."\r\n\r\nTaking her gadget from beneath her arm, she levelled it at George and\r\npressed the button. Instantly George disappeared entirely. Toffee\r\nreplaced the instrument and turned to Marc.\r\n\r\n"There," she said brightly. "George in the handy pocket size, where he\r\ncan\'t do any harm. Now we\'re all set for a life of gin and sin, and no\r\ninterruptions."\r\n\r\n"Now, wait a minute!" Marc said. "We\'re not set for anything, much less\r\na life of gin and sin as you so pungently put it. Do I have to remind\r\nyou that I have a wife to think of?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t care if you have a whole regiment of wives to think of,"\r\nToffee said testily. "I\'ve protected and preserved you and, by gum,\r\nyou\'re mine. At least right now. Your wife can just take her chances on\r\nwhat\'s left."\r\n\r\n"If you continue with this scandalous talk," Marc said, shocked into\r\nprimness, "I\'m going to be forced to get up and walk right out of here."\r\n\r\n"You take one step without me," Toffee warned, "and I\'ll break both\r\nyour legs."\r\n\r\n"Oh, well...." Marc sighed.\r\n\r\n"That\'s better," Toffee nodded. "Of course I\'ll need some clothes,\r\nsomething terribly expensive and revealing...."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nShe broke off as the doors of the courtroom burst open and Julie,\r\nfollowed by the three doctors from the hospital, charged down the aisle.\r\n\r\n"My God!" Marc cried. "Julie!" He swung around to Toffee. "Go away!\r\nVanish!"\r\n\r\n"I\'m darned if I will," Toffee said. "I\'ve stuck by you through all the\r\nthin and now I want some of the thick of it."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t worry," Marc said miserably. "Just wait till Julie sees us;\r\nthings will get thick in a hurry."\r\n\r\nEven as Marc spoke the atmosphere began to congeal swiftly. Julie,\r\nhaving caught sight of the curious tableau formed by Marc and the\r\nscantily clad Toffee, jarred to a stop, digging her heels into the\r\nfloor. A sharp, enraged sound came from her lips.\r\n\r\nJulie, after her experience of the night before had recovered her\r\nphysical faculties, but her emotional condition was still skittish.\r\nA wife, summoned to identify her dying husband, rather sets her mind\r\non a scene of tearful sighs and murmured remembrances, with perhaps\r\na touch of violin music in the background. When she finds her waning\r\nspouse looking perfectly alive and perky and in close proximity to a\r\ndangerous looking redhead, her bubble has a tendency to burst with a\r\nconsiderable bang.\r\n\r\n"_Marc Pillsworth!_" Julie screamed. "Who is that woman!" And raising\r\nher handbag aloft she proceeded forward with mayhem unmistakably number\r\none on her agenda.\r\n\r\nGroaning, Marc rose from his chair. "She\'s going to kill me!"\r\n\r\nMeanwhile, the doctors had also caught sight of Marc.\r\n\r\n"There he is!" the first doctor said. "We\'d better close in on him\r\nfast."\r\n\r\n"It\'s amazing," the second doctor mused. "The man must be living\r\nsheerly on the energy of hysteria. He should have been dead hours ago."\r\nHe turned to the third doctor. "Do you have the chloroform ready?"\r\n\r\nThe doctor nodded and exhibited a can and a large sponge. "Wait till\r\nthe Medical Association hears about this," he said excitedly. "They\'ll\r\nnever believe it!"\r\n\r\nThus armed, the men in white pressed forward close in the wake of Julie.\r\n\r\nMarc retreated in confusion toward the bench. "They\'re all after me!"\r\nhe cried. "I can\'t stand much more of this. If just one more character\r\ntries to kill me...!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe doors of the court swung open and a tall, grim-lipped man barged\r\ninto the room and down the aisle. He was carrying a large meat axe.\r\nAcross the room the blonde leaped joyously from her chair.\r\n\r\n"Darling!" she yelled and ran to meet him. They came together in a\r\ntight clinch just inside the gate. "How did you find me, honey?"\r\n\r\n"Bureau of Missing Persons," the man said cryptically. "Where is he?"\r\n\r\n"Who, sweet?"\r\n\r\n"This creep who kidnapped you. Point him out."\r\n\r\nThe blonde glanced around. "That\'s him," she said, pointing, "the one\r\nwith all those people following him."\r\n\r\nThe man observed Marc\'s retreating figure with a professional eye. "Not\r\nmuch meat on him," he judged, "especially around the shank." He shoved\r\nthe blonde aside. "This\'ll only take a second."\r\n\r\n"Mother in heaven!" Toffee cried, "the whole population is out to get\r\nyou." She pulled Marc out of reach of Julie\'s bag as it made a broad\r\nswipe at his head. "Come on, let\'s join the judge!"\r\n\r\nTogether, they raced around the bench and started to mount to the chair.\r\n\r\n"Get away!" the judge screamed, taking in the ranks of Marc\'s\r\nattackers. "Don\'t come up here!"\r\n\r\n"Sorry," Toffee said, leaping lightly up beside him and snatching up\r\nthe gavel. "This is total war!"\r\n\r\nMarc gaining the bench, turned his attention to Julie. "Please, dear!"\r\nhe cried. "There\'s nothing to be sore about!"\r\n\r\n"Oh, isn\'t there?" Julie gritted. "What about that naked little trull\r\nyou\'re with?" She hefted the bag anew.\r\n\r\n"Let me at him!" the enraged butcher bellowed from the flank. "I\'ll get\r\nhim if I have to hack that bench away around him!"\r\n\r\nIn answer, Toffee brandished the gavel in a wide gesture of defiance\r\nwhich terminated solidly on the side of the judge\'s nose.\r\n\r\n"Ouch!" the judge roared, grabbing his face with both hands. "Clear the\r\ncourt!"\r\n\r\n"Hell!" the butcher yelled. "I\'m going to smear the court with that\r\nlousy kidnapper!"\r\n\r\nThe siege of the bench raged, and it will always be a sterling\r\ntestimony to Julie\'s physical prowess that as she scaled the bench, the\r\nlethal handbag never once ceased to twirl over her head; if it happened\r\nto strike the judge more often than anyone else it was only because\r\nher aim was deflected by her overwrought emotions. To Marc and Toffee,\r\nhowever, the real menace lay in the butcher and his cleaver. Only by\r\nthe most adroit maneuverings with the gavel was Toffee able to delay\r\nhis murderous progress with a few strategic licks on the shins.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe doctors, on the other hand, gave themselves over more to calculated\r\nstrategy. While two of them tried to close in on Marc from the sides,\r\nthe chloroformist, can and sponge held ready, crept up from the rear.\r\nThey might have succeeded in this maneuver except for Toffee. The\r\nredhead, seeing that time and speed were of the essence, abandoned her\r\nattack on the butcher and sailed forward, the gavel raised in one hand,\r\nthe gadget in the other. Her plan was to dispatch the flankers with\r\na single action, then sweep on to overcome the third doctor with all\r\ndispatch. The strategy, however, was too hastily conceived to be really\r\nsuccessful.\r\n\r\nMarc in an effort to avoid Julie\'s bag, leaped forward at just the\r\nwrong moment. Throwing himself toward Toffee, he received the full\r\nimpact of both the gavel and the gadget, one to the ear. He reeled to\r\none side, stumbled and sprawled to the floor, shaking his head.\r\n\r\n"Oh, no!" he wailed, looking back reproachfully at Toffee. "Not you\r\ntoo!"\r\n\r\nBut Toffee didn\'t answer; she was far too surprised and pleased at the\r\nsudden results of this little accident. In banging Marc over the head\r\nwith the gadget, she had inadvertently sprung the switch and introduced\r\nGeorge, completely restored to the last molecule, into the very center\r\nof the proceedings. She only regretted she hadn\'t thought of it sooner\r\nas she saw the attackers, in the confusion, turn on George in force.\r\n\r\n"Stay down," she hissed and dropped down lightly beside Marc. "While\r\nGeorge is standing in for you, let\'s get out of this."\r\n\r\nMarc rose to his knees, took in the new development and nodded. "This\r\nway," he said, indicating a door behind the bench. "I saw the judge\r\ncrawling out this way a minute ago."\r\n\r\nTogether they scuttled on their hands and knees to the door. Marc edged\r\nit open, let Toffee through, then followed after. Safe, they turned\r\nback to see how the battle was developing around the bench.\r\n\r\nGeorge appeared to be finding himself at rather a rude disadvantage.\r\nAnd it is entirely conceivable that the besieged spook might well\r\nhave been confused in that his last conscious moment had been the one\r\nof promised amour just before Toffee hypnotized him. Now, suddenly\r\nrestored to awareness, instead of a fawning redhead, he found himself\r\nconfronted by what appeared to be a select group of the worst fiends of\r\nhell.\r\n\r\nGeorge\'s gaze grew more and more terrified as he took in the swinging\r\nhandbag, the slashing meat axe and the intense, determined faces of the\r\ndoctors. With a single shriek of despair, as the meat axe made a swipe\r\nat his ear, he staggered backwards and vanished into thin air.\r\n\r\n"Poor George," Toffee giggled. "I\'ve got a feeling he checked out for\r\ngood just then. He looked like a ghost who\'s just remembered a previous\r\nengagement."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMarc got up, closed the door and flicked the latch. He stopped, glanced\r\naround at the room. It was some sort of inner chamber, resplendent of\r\nleather and polished wood, a place of durability and hard surfaces,\r\nlighted by a large brass lamp standing on an enormous oak desk. At the\r\nfar end of the room a door stood ajar, opening onto a hallway which\r\npointed the direction of the judge\'s recent escape. Marc crossed to it\r\nand closed and locked it.\r\n\r\n"Well," Toffee said, perching herself lightly on the corner of the\r\ndesk. "This is more like it. Private."\r\n\r\nMarc turned wearily from the door. "Just leave me alone," he sighed.\r\n"Just let me sit down somewhere and relax. This is the first time in\r\nalmost twenty-four hours that I haven\'t had someone at my heels trying\r\nto kill me."\r\n\r\n"Poor Marc," Toffee said. "You do need a rest."\r\n\r\nMarc started across the room toward a large leather-covered chair. He\r\nwas nearly there when he caught his foot in the lamp cord and fell.\r\n\r\nEven as he struck the floor he was aware of the crazy see-saw flashes\r\nof light traveling up and down the wall. It wasn\'t until he rolled\r\nover, however, that he saw the lamp teetering precariously on the edge\r\nof the desk just above his head. He started to cry out, but before he\r\ncould force the sound to his lips the lamp slipped beyond the edge and\r\nplunged downward. It seemed to explode in his face....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt grew out of the darkness, a place of familiar beauty. The light\r\ncame slowly like the first faint tracings of dawn, etching the gentle\r\nslopes, the intricate, clustered outline of the forest.\r\n\r\nMarc looked around at Toffee who was sitting beside him on the rise of\r\nthe knoll. In the glowing half-light she was beautiful beyond words.\r\n\r\n"I ought to break your thick skull," she said. "Will you never learn to\r\npick up those huge feet of yours?"\r\n\r\n"Huh?" Marc said.\r\n\r\n"Tripping over that damned cord just when we\'d gotten away from them\r\nall. Big-footed oaf."\r\n\r\n"Oh, golly, that\'s right," Marc said. "We\'re back in the valley."\r\n\r\n"You\'re darned tootin\' we\'re back in the valley," Toffee said\r\nfretfully. "And that means it\'s all over. No high-life, no\r\nsnaky-dressed, and no...."\r\n\r\n"There wouldn\'t have been any of that anyway," Marc put in hastily.\r\n"It\'s just as well."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be too sure," Toffee said with a sidelong glance. "All I needed\r\nwas a few more minutes and...."\r\n\r\n"What happened to your gadget?" Marc asked, changing the subject.\r\n\r\nToffee picked up the instrument from the grass beside her and shook it.\r\nIt made a loose rattling sound.\r\n\r\n"I broke it when I hit you over the head with it." She tossed it away\r\nfrom her and it rolled down the slope and out of view. "It\'s served\r\nits purpose." She turned to Marc. "That is if you\'ll just stop making\r\npeople want to kill you."\r\n\r\n"I feel all dented and scratched," Marc said. "But I guess I\'m all\r\nright."\r\n\r\n"You\'d feel more dented and scratched if I\'d gotten ahold of you,"\r\nToffee said. "For instance...."\r\n\r\nSuddenly she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. For a\r\nmoment Marc felt that he must have gotten mixed up with a metal clamp.\r\n\r\n"Gee whiz!" he said as she released him.\r\n\r\n"That\'s just the beginning," Toffee said. "I like to ease into these\r\nthings. After that...." She stopped as the light of the valley began to\r\ndwindle. "Oh, damn!"\r\n\r\nMarc looked around at the valley in the rapidly diminishing light.\r\nA small pang of regret flickered deep inside him. He felt himself\r\ndrifting off into the growing darkness.\r\n\r\n"Goodbye, Toffee," he whispered. "Goodbye."\r\n\r\nHe felt the light caress of her hand on his cheek.\r\n\r\n"So long, you lovely old reprobate," Toffee said. "Don\'t you dare\r\nforget me...."\r\n\r\nAnd then the darkness was complete and Toffee and the valley were gone\r\nin a swirling haze.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMarc stirred and there was a small thud beside him. He opened his eyes\r\nand looked around; the thud had been the lamp rolling off his chest. He\r\nforced himself to sit up.\r\n\r\nThere was just enough light from a small skylight above to see that\r\nToffee was no longer there. He hadn\'t really expected that she would\r\nbe. He shook his head briefly to clear it. The memory of Julie and the\r\nothers in the courtroom came to him.\r\n\r\nHe had to get out of there. He had to get home. He could wait there and\r\nexplain things to Julie--somehow--when she returned. He got to his feet\r\nand gazed bleakly down the long, unshapely stretch of his own bare legs.\r\n\r\nIt wouldn\'t do to go wandering around on the streets like that.\r\nRemembering that he had noticed a closet when he\'d first entered the\r\nroom, he made his way to it now and opened the door.\r\n\r\nThe only thing in the closet was the judge\'s discarded black robe. Marc\r\nregarded it for a moment but nonetheless took it off the hanger. It was\r\nmuch better than nothing. He slipped the robe on and crossed to the\r\ndoor leading into the hallway.\r\n\r\nHe unlocked the door and opened it. The hallway was deserted. It led\r\ntoward the back of the building and outside. Marc quitted the room and\r\nquickly traced the hall to a set of outdoor steps leading down to a\r\nparking area. He started forward, then drew back as a figure appeared\r\nfrom around the far corner and made for one of the cars. Then suddenly\r\nhe stopped as he realized that the figure was Julie and she was on her\r\nway to their blue convertible.\r\n\r\n"Julie...?" he called.\r\n\r\nJulie, whirling about, caught sight of him and screamed at the top of\r\nher lungs. Having expressed herself thusly she leaped for the car, tore\r\nthe door open and threw herself inside. Then, slamming the door and\r\nsnapping the catch, she started fumbling feverishly in her bag for the\r\nkeys.\r\n\r\nMarc hastened down the steps and across the lot. He banged on the car\r\ndoor.\r\n\r\n"Julie!" he cried. "Listen to me! I can explain about the girl. She was\r\nonly helping me trap the congressman. She\'s gone now. Julie, are you\r\nlistening?"\r\n\r\nJulie paused in her frenzied gropings and looked out at him. She\r\nlowered the window just a crack with an unnerved hand.\r\n\r\n"Beat it, you--you apparition!" she quavered. "I can\'t see you, I\r\nreally _can\'t_! So it\'s no good your pretending you\'re there. You\'re\r\nnot, and I know it. Go away!"\r\n\r\n"Apparition?" Marc said. "I\'m no apparition. Julie, it\'s me--Marc!"\r\n\r\nJulie\'s gaze steadied a trifle. "You\'re sure?" she asked. "You\'re\r\nreally there?"\r\n\r\n"Of course I am. Let me in the car, please, dear."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nShe hesitated, but in the end she opened the door, reached out gingerly\r\nand touched him. Then, with a smile of reassurance, she slid over to\r\nmake room for him beside her.\r\n\r\n"Oh, Marc!" she cried. "I\'m so glad it\'s you. I thought I saw you just\r\nsort of fade away in there and ... I guess I\'ve been out of my mind\r\nwith worry."\r\n\r\nMarc reached out an arm and drew her close to him. "It\'s all right,\r\ndear," he said. "It\'s all over now."\r\n\r\n"But the doctors said you had to be operated on. They said you were\r\ndying."\r\n\r\n"Oh, that," Marc said hedging. "Well--that was just a gag, a trick to\r\nmake the congressman expose himself. Where are the doctors now?"\r\n\r\n"Asleep," Julie said.\r\n\r\n"Asleep?"\r\n\r\n"Yes. It seems that one of them got excited and spilled a big can of\r\nchloroform on all three of them. They looked very relaxed when I left."\r\n\r\n"Probably needed the rest," Marc said. "They seemed quite energetic."\r\nHe patted her shoulder. "So do we. Shall we go home?"\r\n\r\nJulie nodded. Marc started the car.\r\n\r\n"Marc...?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, dear?"\r\n\r\n"About that girl, the one with red hair. That was very silly of me,\r\nwasn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"Silly?" Marc asked.\r\n\r\n"The way I got it into my head that there was something between you\r\ntwo. That was silly, wasn\'t it?"\r\n\r\n"Very silly," Marc said. "I don\'t know how you ever thought of such a\r\nthing." He turned and smiled at her. "But I forgive you."\r\n\r\nJulie moved closer. "Thank you, dear," she murmured. "You\'re very kind\r\nand understanding. Besides, if I\'d just stopped to think about it I\'d\r\nhave realized she wasn\'t the kind you\'d ever give a second thought."\r\n\r\nMarc backed up the car and headed out of the lot. "Of course not,\r\ndear," he said. A smile played at the corner of his lips as he gazed\r\noff into the distance. "Never a second thought...."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_George approached through the mists, his ectoplasm disheveled and\r\ndrooping. As he moved toward the sentry station it was all too apparent\r\nthat here was a shade in low spirits._\r\n\r\n_"George Pillsworth, spiritual part of the mortal Marc Pillsworth\r\nreporting in from leave," he announced listlessly._\r\n\r\n_The sentry, a gross spectre of the lower sort, jutted his head out of\r\nthe opening. "Hot dawg!" he said. "Wait\'ll the Council gets a load of\r\nyou!"_\r\n\r\n_George looked up wearily. "What do you mean by that?" he asked._\r\n\r\n_"Just after you took off, word came through that Pillsworth was as\r\nhail and hearty as health biscuits. They\'ve been waiting up for you\r\never since. Boy, are you in for a welcome!_"\r\n\r\n_George shrugged and sighed heavily. "Back to the Moaning Chorus, I\r\nsuppose?" he said._\r\n\r\n_"You know it, brother," the sentry nodded, and leaning forward he\r\nswung the gates open in a wide gesture. "Pass on, George Pillsworth,\r\nspiritual part of the mortal Marc Pillsworth. Come and get it, kid."_\r\n\r\n_George drifted disconsolately through the gates and toward the Council\r\nChambers which loomed large and formidable through the swirling mists\r\nahead. Slowly, softly he began to hum to himself, a tune of great\r\nmelancholy and gentle discord. He paused, hummed the tune again._\r\n\r\n_"Not bad," he mused, "not bad at all. With a little arranging it might\r\ngo over big."_\r\n\r\n_Humming the tune again, he resumed toward the chambers. He shrugged,\r\ndusted his ectoplasm and smoothed it down._\r\n\r\n_Now that he stopped to think about it he was sort of relieved to be\r\nback. Certainly the Moaning Chorus couldn\'t be any more exhausting\r\nthan what he\'d just gone through on Earth. And, coming right down to\r\nit, those humans down there were beginning to get a little spooky\r\nlately...._\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NO TIME FOR TOFFEE! ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'Preferred Position'

'Dryfoos, Dave'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Preferred Position\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Preferred Position\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Dave Dryfoos\r\n\r\nRelease date: August 25, 2021 [eBook #66142]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREFERRED POSITION ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n PREFERRED POSITION\r\n\r\n By Dave Dryfoos\r\n\r\n Does your job bore you? Are you just plain\r\n tired of working for a living? Well meet a man\r\n from the future--who\'d gladly trade places!...\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n April 1953\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe bed woke them. "Time to get up, dears," it cooed. "Time to get up\r\nand greet the sun ... time to get up...." Then the supporting magnetism\r\nfaded and let their mattress drift gently to the soft warm floor.\r\n\r\nJanet turned and opened her eyes, pouting at Les. He scowled back,\r\ngrumbled something, and rolled away. She shook his film-coated shoulder.\r\n\r\n"Come on, Les. Come on, you\'ll feel better after coffee."\r\n\r\n"Don\'t want any," he snarled.\r\n\r\nBut the damage had been done. At the word "coffee" a grotesque\r\nmarionette opened the bedroom door and minced in with two steaming\r\ncups on a tray, swinging them artfully so that they appeared likely to\r\nspill, but didn\'t.\r\n\r\nFor some years, now, that dance had left Janet unamused. She was about\r\nto say so when Les growled, "These darned dolls are a nuisance. I wish\r\nyou\'d order a plain, automatic dispenser!"\r\n\r\n"_They\'re_ even _more_ boring," Janet argued, sitting up. Her gauzy\r\nfilm-dress and sleepy face made her look appealingly childlike. She\r\nwas fifty-five.\r\n\r\nLes was sixty, with a full head of blond hair atop six and a half feet\r\nof slim solid flesh. He sat up with the expression of an exasperated\r\nsix-year-old.\r\n\r\n"Go away!" he told the doll. It did.\r\n\r\n"But I _wanted_ some!" Janet wailed. She was careful, though, not to\r\nuse the words that would cause the doll to return.\r\n\r\nNeither did Les. He said, "Why don\'t we take a couple of pills and go\r\nback to sleep till tomorrow? There isn\'t a darned thing to do."\r\n\r\n"There _never_ is," Janet said. Then noting she\'d inadvertently agreed\r\nwith her husband, she quickly added, "But we _can\'t_ sleep--we did\r\nthat yesterday. If we don\'t move around we\'ll practically stop eating,\r\nand anyway the neighbors will miss us. First thing you know we\'ll be\r\naccused of either a hunger-strike or immobility. Then they\'ll enslave\r\nus for attempting suicide!" She sniffed in self-pity at the thought.\r\n\r\n"Ah, honk \'em!" Les said. "Slavery\'d at least be a change. And slaves\r\nhave something to do!"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t talk nonsense," Janet said tartly. "You know perfectly well they\r\nalways torture slaves."\r\n\r\n"Yeah.... But I just can\'t face this any longer! I\'ve got sixty-five\r\nmore years of longevity, according to the doctors--and they\'re never\r\nwrong, curse them! Sixty-five more years without the possibility of\r\nillness, want, risk.... Even an accident is unlikely. Nothing\'s going\r\nto happen in all that time! Jan, I just can\'t face it."\r\n\r\n"Isn\'t that just like a man?" she scoffed. "You know very well _I\'ve_\r\ngot _seventy_ years to go--five still to wait before I can even have my\r\nfirst child! You\'re just being selfish!"\r\n\r\nThey glowered at each other. Then Les rubbed her cheek with the back of\r\nhis hand, and smiled.\r\n\r\n"Thanks, kid," he said. "You really had me going for a minute. Now I\r\nfeel better!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nPleased with the compliment, Janet concocted an extra-fancy combination\r\nof films to spray on herself for the morning\'s wear. When it was\r\nin place, she ordered a large breakfast and arranged to have the\r\nwaiter-doll do a special dance-routine while serving.\r\n\r\nBut Les\'s smile had vanished with the whiskers he\'d rubbed off. He\r\npicked at his food, turned his back on the dancing, and afterward\r\nyawned away the few minutes they spent on their apartment\'s terrace,\r\nstared at by fifty thousand neighbors who lacked anything better to do.\r\nWhen Les wandered idly off, Janet followed.\r\n\r\nLes went to the living room, projected a book onto the ceiling,\r\nswitched it off without reading, played with the glowing phosphors\r\nthat lighted the room in colors he varied jarringly, fiddled with the\r\nconsole of the perfume aerosol and created a stink, and then, in sheer\r\ndespair, turned on the puppet-set.\r\n\r\nIts lighted screen listed the necessary dolls and props, so he laid\r\nthem out. Soon the three-foot stage reflected a broadcast picture of\r\nthe State Executive Office. A stringless, formally-dressed puppet sat\r\nat a desk, its blank face a transmitted facsimile of the Governor\'s.\r\n\r\n"... the last time I can make this announcement," the Governor was\r\nsaying into a hidden microphone. "The tests are to begin at noon. Jobs\r\nare now open! I repeat: jobs are now open! Men only, of course. But if\r\nany of you fellows out there suffer from boredom--and who doesn\'t in\r\nthis wonderful State of ours that by virtue of the New Energy-Sources\r\nguarantees leisured security to each citizen--if, I repeat, you suffer\r\nfrom ennui, then why not apply for a job?\r\n\r\n"Do it now--no further vacancies will occur for years, and we have some\r\nreally desirable positions open this morning. Appointments will be made\r\nstrictly on merit, as usual, with a job for every applicant and the\r\nbest job for the top man.\r\n\r\n"Though it\'s true that losers in this competition are required to\r\nassume for life the less desirable duties that our civilization\r\nimposes, I assure you that isn\'t as bad as it sounds. I was pretty far\r\ndown the list in my day, yet I only have to be Governor....\r\n\r\n"So won\'t you please apply? I want a _lot_ of competition!"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe stage darkened, and the puppet got up and walked to its box. Before\r\nthe lights could go up on the next program, Les switched the set off.\r\n\r\n"What do you think?" he asked Janet.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know," she said. "Nobody in _my_ family has ever worked."\r\n\r\n"Mine, either. But I once knew a fellow who\'d tried for a job. He\r\nseemed o.k. to me, but he sure didn\'t get a good one! Had a clerical\r\nposition, with business machines, and their output was geared down\r\nto spread the work. So he didn\'t have enough to do ... just stacked\r\npunched cards or something every day for eighty years!"\r\n\r\n"Oh, you\'d do better than that, dear!"\r\n\r\n"Maybe. Point is, there _are_ jobs worse than no job at all!"\r\n\r\n"I\'m not so sure!" Janet said, suddenly determined. "Only a few minutes\r\nago you weren\'t very happy about the idle days ahead. Why not take a\r\nchance?"\r\n\r\n"Take a chance? What kind of language is that? Chance went out along\r\nwith disease and poverty and crime and accidents. You\'re way off base,\r\nJan!"\r\n\r\n"But you have a chance--oh, all right!--an opportunity, then, if you\r\nlike that better, to get a _good_ job. Now, if I were a man--"\r\n\r\n"But you\'re not.... Still ... maybe I\'ll try it...."\r\n\r\nFor the first time in a month or two, Janet kissed him warmly. And\r\nafter she\'d helped him into his wings and seen him off from the\r\nterrace, she felt a strange warm glow of anticipation. Not since she\'d\r\nmarried had there been need for a decision that could bring change into\r\nher life. This was a Day!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nIt was a Day for a lot of others, too. She learned that from the noon\r\nbroadcast of the test ceremony.\r\n\r\n"In my time," the Governor said, speaking from the Capitol\'s rotunda,\r\n"in my time a hundred aspirants was considered a good turnout. Today\'s\r\napplicants total a thousand! We haven\'t actually got a thousand jobs\r\nlined up, but we\'ll get \'em! And I\'m privileged to announce, now that\r\nthe list of competitors has closed, that we do have the astoundingly\r\nlarge number of ten--repeat, ten--genuinely desirable appointments to\r\nmake."\r\n\r\nTen good jobs for a thousand applicants didn\'t sound to Janet\r\nlike an astoundingly large number. She\'d been sprawled on a\r\nmagnetically-positioned pad half-way between floor and ceiling, but\r\nshe sat up when the Governor stopped talking, and with a twinge of\r\ngenuine and unwonted anxiety watched the long file of applicants as\r\nthey approached in turn the brain-wave analyzer, the voice-operated\r\nsorter that would add their life-files to current test results, and the\r\nofficials who judged each man\'s configuration.\r\n\r\nShe wished they\'d announce the test results publicly, but knew they\r\nwouldn\'t. So, when Les had gone through--about twenty minutes after the\r\nstart--Janet shut off the broadcast, dissolved her dress-films, and\r\nhad herself rubbed by the massage machine. The morning\'s suspense was\r\nproving too much for her, and she didn\'t want to have a headache when\r\nLes came home.\r\n\r\nBut even the mechanical masseuse couldn\'t rub away her strange\r\nfeelings. Not since marriage had Janet felt curiosity as to the future.\r\n\r\nWhat if he got so dull they never even argued about anything? She\r\nshivered at the thought--but then she smiled. And for the next hour\r\nJanet lay under the soothing massage and gave herself up to the\r\ndelightful new pleasure of worrying.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nWhen Les returned, shadowing the terrace in his descent like some\r\nportentous bird, Janet began to shake. Without even waiting to kiss\r\nhim, she said, "How was it? How did you do?"\r\n\r\nLes grinned teasingly. "Help me moult, first," he said. "I\'m tired."\r\n\r\nUnable to get anything else out of him until it was done, she tore\r\nhis wings off damagingly, kissed him, and said, "_Now_ won\'t you say\r\nsomething?"\r\n\r\n"I\'m hungry!"\r\n\r\n"No!" She danced her impatience like a little girl. "Tell me!"\r\n\r\nBut even as she pouted, her eyes sparkled in anticipation.\r\n\r\n"I start tomorrow," he said.\r\n\r\n"Did you get the best job?"\r\n\r\n"Nope. No, I really didn\'t."\r\n\r\n"What, then?"\r\n\r\n"Second best!"\r\n\r\n"Oh, wonderful! What is it?"\r\n\r\n"Rigger and high-climber--topping trees, setting structural iron,\r\nfixing flag-poles--that sort of thing. Powderman was first."\r\n\r\n"Oh, rigger\'s wonderful!" Visions of his future work flashed across her\r\nmind, implanted there by childhood hours spent watching other members\r\nof this elite profession at their thrilling work. She knew there could\r\nbe broken cables, falling pulleys, snapped booms, dropped loads--every\r\nday would have its interesting possibilities!\r\n\r\n"My darling!" She threw her arms around him and was momentarily\r\nsilenced by his kiss.\r\n\r\nThen she stepped back, looked admiringly up at him, and said, "Oh, I\'m\r\nso happy for you! And so proud! I\'m going right in and order up a nice\r\nbig meal. I know you\'ll enjoy this one--it really _might_ be your last!"\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREFERRED POSITION ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. 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'The Pioneer'

'Cox, Irving E.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Pioneer\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Pioneer\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Irving E. Cox\r\n\r\nIllustrator: W. E. Terry\r\n\r\nRelease date: October 27, 2021 [eBook #66618]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nOriginal publication: United States: Greenleaf Publishing Company, 1955\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIONEER ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE PIONEER\r\n\r\n By Irving Cox, Jr.\r\n\r\n Greg was sure the kids had no right being\r\n in control of a planet; after all what had they\r\n learned about life? Still, what had he learned?\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n October 1955\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nThe old ship wheezed and clattered into the landing slot. Greg was\r\nan expert pilot, but skill was no substitute for outdated equipment.\r\nHe unstrapped the safety webbing and eased himself out of the cabin,\r\ncluttered with its worn and scarred electronic gadgetry. With the\r\nhandcrank he opened the airlock. Rusting metal screamed as the panel\r\nslid back into the hull. Greg found himself panting from the sudden\r\nmuscular effort in the heavier atmosphere of the earth.\r\n\r\nI\'m an old man, he thought bitterly--old at forty; as antiquated as\r\nmy ship, and as much in need of repair. But no one can do anything\r\nfor either of us. I gave them the stars, and in twenty years they\'ve\r\nforgotten. They\'ve made me a museum piece, these pampered, undersized\r\nkids of the new generation.\r\n\r\nGreg walked down the ramp. He hadn\'t been home for seven years, but he\r\nwas still surprised that no flight inspector met him with the officious\r\nclipboard of check-out sheets. The landing fields in the colonies were\r\nfar more efficiently supervised.\r\n\r\nGreg saw a light in the field control building and walked toward it.\r\nThe field, sprawling for miles across the California desert, was empty,\r\na mocking moment to the magnificent dream the new generation had\r\nrejected. Behind him Greg saw the long rows of landing slots, towering\r\nmetal shafts raised against the night sky. Only four ships rested in\r\nthe slots, his and three other rusting cargo carriers. In front of\r\nthe unlighted terminal building the passenger liners stood untended,\r\ndecaying hulks that would never lift again. Fifteen years ago--even\r\nas recently as ten years ago--the California field had hummed with\r\nactivity. Greg could remember the tide of humanity, the clattering\r\npick-up trucks gliding like curious ants among the freighters, the\r\nshotgun blast of lift tubes, the parade of ships trailing flame across\r\nthe sky.\r\n\r\nNow the dream was gone. The terminal windows were filmed with dust.\r\nGrass grew in the cracking asphalt of the field.\r\n\r\nGreg pushed open the door of the control building. One man sat with\r\nhis feet propped on a desk. Once the room had required a hundred\r\ntechnicians. Once the traffic-control panel, filling a wall nearly a\r\nquarter of a mile long, had been a maze of dancing, colored lights. Now\r\nthe board was dead; the enamel was peeling; the exposed metal was red\r\nwith rust.\r\n\r\nThe attendant took Greg\'s manifest without interest. "You\'re our first\r\nlanding in two years, Captain--" He glanced at the sheet. "Captain\r\nGreg. I see you\'re in from Mars."\r\n\r\n"I\'m carrying five tons of Redearth." In the old days such a cargo\r\nwould have cleared three million after transportation costs; a whole\r\nnew industry had been built on the Martian antibiotical spore.\r\n\r\n"No market, I\'m afraid, Captain." The attendant flipped the manifest\r\naside.\r\n\r\n"Sell it at auction. I have to raise enough cash to--"\r\n\r\n"You won\'t get a buyer."\r\n\r\n"I\'ve got to get some new equipment for my ship!"\r\n\r\n"You\'d have done better in the colonies. Mars has excellent repair\r\nfacilities, we understand."\r\n\r\n"At sky-high prices, sure."\r\n\r\n"The earth isn\'t building flight equipment any more. What\'s the point?\r\nThe kids don\'t want it." The attendant shrugged his shoulders. "You\r\naren\'t the first one, Captain Greg, who\'s come home for nothing; and\r\nyou won\'t be the last. Check with me tomorrow. I\'ll see what I can\r\nwork out."\r\n\r\n"If I can\'t dispose of my cargo--"\r\n\r\n"We waive all field charges in cases of destitution. You can dump the\r\nRedearth and the kids will stake you to a cargo of iron ore; it\'s going\r\nat triple premium on Venus, we\'re told."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGreg turned on his heel and walked stiffly out of the building. One\r\nbitter word burned in his mind: destitution. It was like a kick in the\r\nteeth. He thought, in a fury of blind anger, I gave them the stars and\r\nthey make me a charity case--this new generation! Children who could\r\nnever build a colonial bubble or pioneer a star route. Soft-minded and\r\nsoft-muscled idiots.\r\n\r\nThe field attendant hadn\'t even recognized Greg\'s name.\r\n\r\nSuddenly the past was alive again, like an angry nightmare. The\r\nspeeches and the headlines, the bands and the screaming mobs, the\r\npoliticians, the scientists, the generals. Handclasps and newsreel\r\npictures. "Just one more, sir, for the TV cameras." ... "A Citation\r\nby a joint session of the Congress of the United States, to Captain\r\nVictor Greg, U. S. Rocket Forces...." GREG MAKES MARS.... L. A.\r\nWELCOMES GREG.... FIRST SPACEMAN IN N. Y. PARADE... "And I say to\r\nyou, my constituents, the name Greg shall be forever writ large in the\r\nhearts of a grateful people." ... GREG LANDS FIRST MARTIAN CARGO....\r\n"For the discovery of Redearth, the eternal gratitude of the medical\r\nprofession...." GREG TAKES NOBEL PRIZE.... "A small token of the\r\ngratitude of American industry...." GREG JOINS IMPORT FIRM.... "The\r\nundying gratitude of the United Patriotic Mothers of America...." FIRST\r\nCOLONISTS ON MARS.... COLONIES ON THE MOONS OF JUPITER.... VENUS BUBBLE\r\nCOMPLETED....\r\n\r\nThe dream of yesterday, and the dream was gone. The rocket ports\r\nwere dead. The machines were crumbling into rust. And Captain Victor\r\nGreg?--a destitute tramp, waiting for a handout from a generation of\r\nbrats which had forgotten him.\r\n\r\nHe crossed the field toward the clutter of buildings beyond the\r\nterminal: Port City, raised in less than a year on the California\r\ndesert, the first minor miracle of the new frontier. The endless mass\r\nof traffic, the noisy honky tonks, the nervous neon shimmering in\r\nthe night, the brassy bands and the fancy women--all of it was gone.\r\nDesert sand had drifted across the streets. The highpoled intersection\r\nlights, still burning, cast a blue halo in the empty, dirty windows.\r\n\r\nGreg\'s shoulders sagged as he walked toward the central square of\r\nPort City. He had to see the monument again. He had to drain the last\r\nbitterness from his homecoming. In the Martian colony they had told him\r\nit would be like this. He hadn\'t believed them. How could a legend be\r\nforgotten in a generation?\r\n\r\nFrom a block away he saw the metal statue, turned a sickly blue by the\r\ncorner street light. The high shaft of a primitive rocket ship, with\r\nits nose foregear lifted proudly toward the stars; in the foreground,\r\nthe towering giant of a spaceman, his legs spread wide to embrace the\r\nsymbolic sphere of the earth. "Sky Frontier"; the sculptor had named it\r\nthat.\r\n\r\nGreg sat wearily on the granite base of the monument. He could read,\r\nall too clearly, the lettering on the plaque, "Commemorating the first\r\nsolar flight, earth to Mars, made by Captain Victor Greg of the U. S.\r\nRocket Fleet. Launched from this site on the first day of June and\r\ncompleted--"\r\n\r\nGreg ground his fists against his eyes, yet still the words\r\ndanced through his brain. His attitude of dejection was an ironic\r\ncounter-point to the confident, metal monster rising above him.\r\nTwenty years and a new generation made the difference. Yet there was\r\na striking similarity between the statue and the man, for Greg had\r\nposed for the original model. Greg was still a powerful, muscular man;\r\nhis face was still clean cut and unlined. Only the torment in his eyes\r\nreflected the dream he had lost.\r\n\r\n"But nothing is lost. It is just--different."\r\n\r\nGreg looked up. A serious-faced boy of twelve stood close to him, in\r\nthe shadow of the statue. One of the new children. Greg felt a cold\r\nchill crawl up his spine. Fear and loathing: he hated them. They had\r\ndestroyed his world; they had made him a nonentity. Yet when the boy\r\ncame closer and Greg saw how frail and small he was, the fear seemed\r\nfoolish.\r\n\r\n"You live around here, kid?" Greg asked. Out in the colonies they said\r\nthe new children read minds--which really wasn\'t much, considering\r\ntheir other abilities--but Greg refused to believe it.\r\n\r\n"Not minds," the boy corrected him. "We know your feelings--which is\r\nprobably much the same thing. No, I don\'t live in Port City. I came\r\nfrom Chicago after you landed; I thought you might need me."\r\n\r\nFrom Chicago!--fifteen hundred miles, the instantaneous transportation\r\nof living matter. Greg\'s mind boggled at the familiar fact; he felt\r\nthe hate and the fear again. These were not the natural children of\r\nmen, but monstrosities spawned by an unknown universe and eating out\r\nthe heart of human culture. Greg stood up, his arms stiff and his fists\r\nclenched. "When I need the help of a kid," he growled, "I\'ll know it\'s\r\ntime to cash in my chips."\r\n\r\n"It\'s wrong to think that way, Captain Greg."\r\n\r\n"No pint-sized child\'s going to tell me--"\r\n\r\n"I wanted to make things easier for you. You should have stayed in the\r\ncolonies; it was a mistake to come home."\r\n\r\n"Now you\'re trying to drive us off the earth!"\r\n\r\n"We want to save you the discomfort of homecoming. We can\'t turn back\r\nthe clock; neither can you."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGreg strode down the deserted street, through the small drifts of sand.\r\nHe recognized the corner where there used to be a bar. He flung open\r\nthe door and entered the long, dark room. The stale air smelled of dust\r\nand neglect; his boots echoed hollowly on the oak floor. He fumbled for\r\na match and in the pale, yellow light he saw the bottles crowding the\r\nshelves.\r\n\r\nHe snatched a fifth of bourbon and ripped off the cap. He gulped the\r\nliquor thirstily and the hot fire burned warm in his veins. After the\r\nthird drink he felt the strong self-confidence of his manhood again.\r\nHe leaned his elbow against the bar and glanced toward the street. The\r\nsad-eyed kid was out there somewhere, waiting like a nightmare; or\r\nmaybe he had already done his magic and transported himself back to\r\nChicago.\r\n\r\nIt didn\'t matter. The kid wasn\'t human. Greg took another pull at\r\nthe bottle and he saw it all very clearly. In the beginning men had\r\nspeculated about life forms on other worlds. Before Greg\'s pioneering\r\nflight to Mars the Sunday supplements had been filled with a vast\r\nnumber of lurid speculations. Yet the spacemen had found nothing\r\nbut virgin worlds which became the colonies of man. The truth\r\nwas--Greg understood it now--they had looked for intelligent life in\r\nfamiliar forms. But there had been something out there, something as\r\nundetectable as a virus epidemic--and as deadly. It had invaded the\r\nearth and captured the minds of the children.\r\n\r\nGreg killed the bottle. By that time he was very impressed with the\r\nbrilliance of his own reasoning. Small inconsistencies kept nagging\r\nat his mind and it seemed strange that no one had ever thought of it\r\nbefore--but all that was of no consequence.\r\n\r\nGreg heard footsteps outside. His body tensed. Was it the kid coming\r\nback? He would know what Greg was thinking; he would know how close\r\nGreg was to the real truth. And the new children--no, invaders; Greg\r\nmust remember that--would not let him survive. They were puny and\r\nundersized. Physically, Greg had no reason to be afraid of them.\r\nBut how was he to fight an enemy who could instantly disappear and\r\nrematerialize thousands--or millions--of miles away?\r\n\r\nThe shuffling steps came closer. A stooped, white-haired man, wearing\r\nsoiled and unpressed tweeds, stepped through the door. Greg seized the\r\nnewcomer\'s shoulder; the man gave a bleat of animal terror.\r\n\r\n"Who the hell are you?" Greg demanded.\r\n\r\n"Dr. Vayle--Adrian Vayle."\r\n\r\n"The astrophysicist?" Greg remembered the name from the ponderous text\r\nhe had studied in the flight school.\r\n\r\nThe old man straightened his shoulders with a semblance of pride. "You\r\nknow me?"\r\n\r\n"What are you doing in Port City?"\r\n\r\n"This is where I live. I couldn\'t stand it in the city any longer and\r\nI didn\'t want to emigrate to the colonies. The children don\'t object.\r\nThey bring us supplies. Holly and I are quite comfortable." Dr. Vayle\r\nran his fingers over Greg\'s uniform. "You\'re a pilot! I haven\'t met one\r\nin years. Usually the children send them back to the colonies as soon\r\nas they land."\r\n\r\n"Where do you live, Dr. Vayle?"\r\n\r\n"The best hotel in town. I\'ll show you." He bent closer and whispered,\r\n"And I\'ll let you see what we\'re working on. But I have to have my\r\nnightcap first." Vayle groped in the dark for a bottle. He drank the\r\nliquor eagerly, wiping his lips on his sleeve.\r\n\r\nGreg and the astrophysicist went outside. Greg looked along the\r\ndeserted street for the twelve year old, but the boy was nowhere in\r\nsight. Perhaps he had returned to Chicago. Yet if he had come to send\r\nGreg back to the colonies, would he have given up so easily?\r\n\r\nThe blue intersection lights swam in a comfortable haze, spinning when\r\nGreg looked at them directly. Occasionally the drifts of sand seemed to\r\nrun like water and Greg became unsure of his footing. He knew he was\r\ndrunk, but alcohol had never interfered with his reasoning. Back in\r\nthe bar he had made a tremendous discovery; he mustn\'t let it slip his\r\nmind. The children were alien invaders: that was it. In the morning he\r\nwould be able to decide what he was to do with the information.\r\n\r\nThe old man took him to a pseudo-Spanish structure across the main\r\nhighway from the field. The _Biltmore Hacienda_, at one time the\r\ngaudiest and costliest hotel in Port City. Now the neon signs were out,\r\nthe streetfront shops were closed, and only a pale light glowed dimly\r\nbehind the ornate, iron gate.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAs he followed Vayle up the three tile steps, Greg looked back toward\r\nthe field. He saw his ship standing in its landing slot. Someone was\r\nworking to unload his useless cargo of Redearth. The field attendant\r\nwas displaying an unusual conscientiousness, Greg thought; he hadn\'t\r\nexpected action in less than a week.\r\n\r\nThen, abruptly, Greg knew the real significance of such prompt service.\r\nIt fit with the discovery he had made in the bar. The only trouble was,\r\nhis mind was too hazy for him to grasp the connection clearly. It would\r\ncome to him later; he was sure of that.\r\n\r\nHe followed Vayle through the dusty, thick-carpeted lobby. Vayle slept\r\nin a disorderly room adjoining the cavernous hall of the dining room,\r\nwhere the tables were covered with dust and the band instruments lay\r\nrusting on the bandstand. The astrophysicist swept a litter of loose\r\nmanuscript pages from his bed and sat down. He fished a bottle of gin\r\nfrom under the bed and took a long drink.\r\n\r\n"For my nerves," he apologized.\r\n\r\nGreg saw a score of empty bottles in the debris on the floor.\r\nApparently Vayle had been treating his nerves for a long time. Greg\r\npicked up one of the manuscript pages. It was a part of a book. At\r\nleast the patter of phrases was familiar, but the whole context was\r\nincoherent, without beginning or end.\r\n\r\n"My new text," Vayle explained. "When it\'s finished, the kids have\r\npromised to publish it. That\'s why they let me stay here, so I can\r\nwork in peace." He pulled at the bottle again. "They\'re still children\r\nat heart. An adult can twist them around his finger, if he goes at it\r\nproperly."\r\n\r\n"You mean the book\'s just a blind?"\r\n\r\nThe scientist eyed Greg carefully. "You\'re too old. You can\'t be one of\r\nthem." He rolled back the mattress and took out a thin file of paper,\r\nholding it tenderly in his hand. "I\'m analyzing the cause, sir. I\'m\r\ngoing to demonstrate how the children have made us believe they are\r\nable to defy the laws of physics. When I publish this, the nightmare\r\nwill be over."\r\n\r\nVayle handed over the file reluctantly. Greg turned back the cover--and\r\nthe shock sobered him. Vayle was an established authority; Vayle was an\r\neminent scientist; Vayle was a man Greg had learned to respect. But\r\nthe book Vayle showed him contained nothing but blank pages.\r\n\r\n"You\'re interested in our project?"\r\n\r\nThe throaty, silky voice came from the open door. Greg whirled. He saw\r\na tall, thin woman, heavily painted. She was wearing a bangled, scarlet\r\ngown, which hung loose from her shoulders. Her beauty had faded long\r\nago; her face was a lined, marble mask; her yellow hair was streaked\r\nwith gray. Fifteen years ago Greg could have found her counterpart\r\nlurking in any Port City honky tonk, her thin hips swaying with the\r\nbrassy jargon of the music and invitation in her eyes.\r\n\r\n"This is Holly Wilson," Vayle said. "My secretary."\r\n\r\nSecretary! Greg thought. So that\'s what they were calling it now. Holly\r\nWilson\'s profession had gone by many names. The pickings on earth must\r\nhave become mighty thin, if she were satisfied to saddle herself with\r\na white-haired professor of astrophysics. Greg introduced himself,\r\ngrinning contemptuously.\r\n\r\n"You\'re just in from the colonies, Captain?" she asked.\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Staying long?"\r\n\r\n"That depends. I have a cargo to auction and--"\r\n\r\n"The kids will take care of that. But you\'ll stay through tonight, of\r\ncourse. Let\'s see if we can find you a room."\r\n\r\nGreg thought he knew what she had in mind. But as soon as they were\r\nout of earshot of the scientist\'s bedroom, she said, "Come outside,\r\nCaptain; I have to talk to you."\r\n\r\nThey went into the tiled patio of the hotel. The kidney-shaped pool was\r\nempty, and its basin was criss-crossed with gaping cracks. Many of the\r\npotted shrubs had died untended, but the palms still flourished. The\r\nfronds laced skeletal fingers across the face of the full moon. The\r\ndry, desert wind washed through the trees, the ghost whisper of the\r\ndream that had died in Port City.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t say anything to Dr. Vayle about his book." Holly Wilson\'s voice\r\nwas surprisingly sincere. "Play along with him, please; let him go on\r\nthinking he\'s found the great secret."\r\n\r\n"What is it--alcoholism or madness?"\r\n\r\n"A little of both. No one\'s really sane any more."\r\n\r\n"I came home the last time seven years ago. It wasn\'t this bad then.\r\nWhat\'s happened?"\r\n\r\n"Most of the adults have emigrated to the colonies. There are only a\r\nfew derelicts left--like Adrian Vayle and myself."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNearly sober, Greg remembered the discovery he had stumbled on in the\r\nbar, and the logic still held up. "They\'ve taken over the earth and\r\nthrown men out."\r\n\r\n"The children? You talk as if--"\r\n\r\n"Tell me everything about it, from the beginning."\r\n\r\n"The kids are different; that\'s all there is to it. They read minds.\r\nThey move themselves anywhere they please simply by thinking about it.\r\nGod knows what else they\'ll learn to whip up after they get the hang of\r\nit."\r\n\r\n"Are all the children like this?"\r\n\r\n"No. The others emigrated with their parents. Dr. Vayle says there are\r\nabout five million. That\'s approximately the total population of the\r\nearth, now. They\'ve shoved the rest of us out."\r\n\r\n"By force?"\r\n\r\n"Who wants to hang around like a pet ape to amuse his own brats? Dr.\r\nVayle was too old to go. I--I couldn\'t get a medical clearance."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t think the colonies are aware that the emigration was so large."\r\n\r\n"Why should they be? We\'ve half a dozen worlds out there. They could\r\nabsorb us all."\r\n\r\n"So the kids have taken over everything."\r\n\r\n"What they wanted, yes. For a while we thought it was temporary. Dr.\r\nVayle didn\'t begin drinking until we knew the change was permanent.\r\nThe oldest kids are nineteen now. They\'re beginning to marry, and all\r\ntheir children have the same abilities. Or witchcraft. Call it what you\r\nlike."\r\n\r\n"As old as nineteen? Then the change dates from--"\r\n\r\n"From your first flight, Captain Greg. I sometimes look at that damn\r\nstatue in the square and laugh till it hurts. A brave, new frontier you\r\ndiscovered--but that wasn\'t all you gave us."\r\n\r\n"You believe I\'m responsible for--" Greg gestured toward the slow decay\r\nin the patio. "For this?"\r\n\r\n"Who else, Captain? It\'s the kids who should build you a monument. You\r\ngave them the earth."\r\n\r\nFor the first time Greg saw the monstrosity hidden by his dream. He\r\nhad made the pioneer flight; and he had created this new generation.\r\nThe relationship was plain. If he could unravel it and find the real\r\ncause--but he knew that now. An invasion, an invisible virus life that\r\nhad taken over their minds. How? When he knew that, how could he fight\r\nit? How could he turn back the clock and restore the earth to man?\r\n\r\nHe walked slowly to the end of the patio where he could see the\r\ndeserted field across the highway. In the slot they were still scooping\r\nthe Redearth of Mars out of the hull of his ship. He smiled grimly. A\r\ndecade ago the Redearth had been priceless; that one import alone had\r\nmade the conquest of space commercially possible. Redearth had built\r\nPort City and the colonies; Redearth had created the import companies,\r\nonce so tremendously profitable.\r\n\r\nA light burned for a moment above Greg\'s ship. Clearly he saw the puny,\r\ntwelve year old boy and the four other children who were dumping the\r\ncargo. It gave him another explosive insight. Greg knew then how the\r\ninvasion had come from the stars.\r\n\r\nThe Redearth of Mars; the invisible molds of that unknown world: that\r\nwas the alien life form no man had recognized. The enemy was tangible.\r\nThe enemy was real. And such an enemy could be conquered.\r\n\r\nGreg\'s first inclination was to cross the road and smash with his fist\r\nthe pint-sized weaklings who had stolen his world. Physical conflict:\r\nthat was something man understood and respected. But the children were\r\nnot human; he must never allow himself to forget that. They had to be\r\nfought on other terms.\r\n\r\nFirst, Greg had to escape the earth without letting them read his mind\r\nand measure his hatred. Until he could lift his ship, he had to play\r\nalong with whatever plans they made for him. The children didn\'t want\r\nhim here; escape should be easy--if he could only wall off his thinking.\r\n\r\nHe turned back toward the faded woman in the scarlet dress. As\r\nmatter-of-factly as he could, he asked her to show him his room. "I\'ll\r\nprobably leave tomorrow; they\'re doing an efficient job out there."\r\n\r\n"The kids don\'t waste any time. They\'ll stake you to a cargo of iron\r\nore for Venus; that\'s the usual procedure." She put her arm through\r\nhis. "And you promise, Captain: you won\'t say anything to Dr. Vayle?"\r\n\r\n"Why are you so interested in that old fool?"\r\n\r\n"We\'re derelicts. It would be damn lonely without him. He has something\r\nto believe in--nonsense, yes; but what difference does that make?\r\nSometimes I can almost believe in it, too."\r\n\r\n"Men aren\'t licked yet."\r\n\r\nShe laughed. "You noble souls who drop in on us out of space talk so\r\nbravely; that\'s your brand of madness, Captain. Thank your stars you\r\ndon\'t have to get to know the kids as well as we do."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nShe took him to a room on the first floor of the hotel. The air, when\r\nhe opened the door, was stale. The full moon behind the Venetian blinds\r\nmade an unpleasant symbolic shadow pattern of prison bars on the\r\ncarpet. Greg ripped open the zipper of his flight jacket; his chest was\r\nwet with sweat. The woman turned to go and he caught her arm, pulling\r\nher toward him.\r\n\r\n"This much at least hasn\'t changed," he grinned.\r\n\r\nShe neither resisted nor responded. She stood looking up into his face.\r\nHer eyes were cold and tired. "I have to go back to Adrian, Captain\r\nGreg. He\'s frightened when I leave him alone too long."\r\n\r\n"That doddering graybeard--"\r\n\r\n"None of the things that used to be so important matter any more. All\r\nwe have left is our love for each other. Adrian and I have that; I\r\ndon\'t want to lose it."\r\n\r\nShe glided away from him. Angrily Greg jerked up the blinds--to erase\r\nthe prison symbol--and ground open the windows. The hot desert wind\r\nwhispered through the screen. Greg stripped off his uniform and lay\r\nnaked on the bed.\r\n\r\nAfter a time he slept--fitfully, caught in a confusion of fragmentary\r\ndreams. The hope of yesterday and the disillusionment of now; his pride\r\nas a pioneer; and the pain of his responsibility for what his frontier\r\nhad created. Out of the chaos a pattern of action slowly emerged.\r\nSometime in the small hours before the dawn Greg made up his mind what\r\nhe would do.\r\n\r\nIt would be futile to try to arouse the colonies to attack the earth.\r\nEach man in his own soul might admit the truth, but as a culture they\r\nwould all reject it. They needed to keep the symbol of earth as home,\r\nthough they might never return to it. Even if that psychological\r\nobjection could be overcome, war was not the answer. Only if the\r\nchildren were taken completely by surprise--given no time to use their\r\nalien abilities--could they be effectively destroyed.\r\n\r\nGreg knew how that could be done. A decade before his pioneer flight\r\nto Mars, the first artificial satellite had been sent up in an orbit\r\naround the earth. A purely military weapon--capable of destroying any\r\nobjective on the surface of the earth--the satellite had overturned\r\nthe balance of power and forced the creation of a united world. The\r\nresources of a planetary government had made Greg\'s first flight\r\npossible. Afterward, in the excitement of exploiting the new frontier,\r\nthe satellite had been forgotten.\r\n\r\nBut it was still there, still armed with a firepower capable of wiping\r\nthe earth clean of life. It would be the murder of a world--but murder\r\nto save human kind. Greg could do it alone. His only problem was to\r\nlift his ship without the children knowing what was in his mind. He\r\nfelt no guilt, no pang of conscience. Once the decision was made, Greg\r\nslept easily; and he awoke completely refreshed, with only a slight\r\nheadache from the liquor he had drunk the night before.\r\n\r\nDr. Vayle and Holly Wilson insisted that Greg breakfast with them in\r\nthe hotel. He would have preferred to forage for himself. The painted\r\nwoman\'s protective, maternal affection for the astrophysicist made Greg\r\nacutely uncomfortable. It was not the sort of behavior he would have\r\nexpected of either of them. Greg\'s discomfort quickly became a feeling\r\nof guilt. If he used the old satellite wheel to destroy the alien\r\nchildren, he would be slaughtering the few human beings who remained on\r\nthe earth. Discreetly he asked how many others had stayed behind.\r\n\r\n"It\'s hard to say," Vayle told him. "A hundred thousand, perhaps."\r\n\r\n"Do you keep up any sort of contact?"\r\n\r\n"Why should we? We\'re outcasts." With a sudden rationality, he added,\r\n"We\'re ashamed. When we\'re together we feel bound to face the truth.\r\nIt\'s impossible for man to admit he\'s a second-rater. So we hide out in\r\ndeserted villages like this one--and pretend all this nightmare never\r\nhappened." Then Vayle slipped back into his delusion again. "However,\r\nall that will be different as soon as my research is finished. Why, do\r\nyou know, Captain--"\r\n\r\n"I\'m leaving this morning," Greg broke in. "Would you like to go with\r\nme?"\r\n\r\nVayle shook his head. "I\'m too old to make a new start on your\r\nfrontier, Captain." He reached for the woman\'s hand. "And as long as my\r\nsecretary can\'t have a clearance--"\r\n\r\n"Leave us as we are," Holly said. "Your dream is no better than ours."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nAfter breakfast Greg left the hotel and crossed the highway to the\r\nfield. It was still early morning, but the desert sun blazed hot in a\r\ncopper sky. As Greg passed the old terminal building, the twelve year\r\nold boy suddenly materialized and fell in step beside him.\r\n\r\nThis was the thing Greg feared most. He began to walk more rapidly,\r\nfighting a rising panic. How could he keep the kid from prying into his\r\nmind? Desperately he tried to think of something else--anything, inane\r\nor banal. The children were not gods; they couldn\'t dig deeper than his\r\nconscious thought. (Or could they? Greg wasn\'t sure.)\r\n\r\n"We\'re giving you a cargo for Venus," the boy said conversationally.\r\n"It will put you in business again, Captain. The Martian colony is\r\nequipped to repair your ship. You\'ll have enough cash to pay for it,\r\nnow."\r\n\r\n"Fine," Greg grunted. In his mind he was frantically reciting a rhyme\r\nhis grandmother had taught him ago, "One two, buckle my shoe; three\r\nfour, open the door...." Reciting it with fervor, like a prayer for\r\nsurvival--which it was.\r\n\r\n"After this, Captain, it might be better if you stayed in the colonies.\r\nDon\'t get me wrong. You\'re welcome on earth anytime you want to come\r\nhome, but conditions are different here and...."\r\n\r\nSuddenly the boy\'s tone changed. "But you aren\'t responsible, Captain!"\r\n\r\nGreg\'s muscles tensed. So the boy had probed that deep!\r\n\r\n"A new frontier always means change, Captain--but not tragedy; not\r\ndefeat! We\'ve never supposed any of you would believe that. You gave us\r\na miracle, the greatest frontier men have ever crossed. When all the\r\nother pioneers are forgotten, Captain, your name...."\r\n\r\nPretty words, like the pretty speeches Greg had listened to twenty\r\nyears ago. They wanted to confuse him, make him doubt the decision he\r\nhad made. "One two, buckle my shoe! Three four, open the door!"\r\n\r\nThe boy caught Greg\'s sleeve. "You might as well blame Galileo or\r\nCopernicus because they studied the universe. Or go back to the\r\nbeginning. Blame the unknown who did our first scientific pioneering."\r\n\r\nCopernicus and Galileo? What was the kid trying to say? And why would\r\na twelve year old speak so glibly--so knowingly--of the giants? That\r\nproved his alienness. When Greg was twelve, the only thing he had\r\nthought about seriously was football or baseball or summer vacation or\r\nhow he was going to get out of the piano lessons his mother imposed on\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nThe boy pulled him to a stop. "The first pioneer, Captain: do you blame\r\nhim for it all? We don\'t know his name, but we do have his monument.\r\nLook, Captain Greg." In the drifting sand the boy sketched the outline\r\nof a wheel.\r\n\r\nGreg panicked. He was too intent upon keeping his mind impregnable\r\nto make any other interpretation. The wheel symbolized the satellite\r\nriding above the earth; then the boy knew what Greg was going to do.\r\n\r\nGreg swung his fist blindly. He took the boy by surprise. The child\r\nhad no time to rematerialize at a safe distance. Greg\'s fist struck\r\nhis chest and the boy went down, with a cry of agony. Greg felt a\r\nsubconscious surge of satisfaction; humanity hadn\'t been defeated after\r\nall and the children were by no means invulnerable. Surprise--physical\r\ninitiative--gave men their trump card over these undernourished mind\r\nreaders.\r\n\r\nGreg sprinted toward his ship. The body lay on the drifting sand\r\ngasping for breath, gesturing futilely with his small hand.\r\n\r\nGreg\'s foot was on the ramp when he heard a scream behind him. He\r\nlooked back toward the road. He saw Dr. Vayle and Holly Wilson running\r\ntoward him. A mongrel, frothing at the mouth, was yapping at their\r\nheels.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGreg reacted with an altogether human instinct. He ripped a metal bar\r\nloose from the ramp rail and went back to help them, two fellow humans\r\nin trouble. A tiny warning of logic flamed briefly in his mind: this\r\ncould be a trick; his only real chance of escape was to leave now,\r\nwhile he could. But he ignored it.\r\n\r\nHe ran across the field and swung the bar at the dog, crushing its\r\nskull with one blow. The woman clutched his arm. Her hands were\r\nshaking; her face was white with fear.\r\n\r\n"What happened?" Greg demanded.\r\n\r\n"Adrian and I were clearing the breakfast table. Suddenly the dog\r\nwas--he was just there, growling at us."\r\n\r\n"A mad dog," the astrophysicist added. "The kids did it. They can make\r\nany living thing appear anywhere they please."\r\n\r\n"A trick!" Greg said. The whisper of logic had been right. He glanced\r\nat where the boy had fallen; the child was gone.\r\n\r\n"They\'re trying to make me leave," Vayle complained, "before I finished\r\nmy research. They know I have the answer to--"\r\n\r\n"Now you have no other choice," Greg snapped. He pulled the scientist\r\ntoward his ship; the woman followed. Greg reasoned that he might still\r\nhave an outside chance. The children obviously had expected him to take\r\nVayle back to the hotel. That would have given them a chance to disable\r\nhis ship.\r\n\r\nGreg pushed the two through the airlock. His luck still held. He shoved\r\nthem toward the safety webbing and jerked down the firing toggle. As\r\nthe ship quivered in the thunder of the power tubes, Greg dialed the\r\nsatellite course on the pilot computer.\r\n\r\nIt was the simplest setting he could make. His was an old ship, built\r\nwhen the satellite had still been used as an initial landing station,\r\nbefore the new fuel had made the big wheel obsolete. Every ship had\r\nonce had an automatic satellite course projection taped in the pilot\r\ncomputer. Without a new setting, the ship would move into the core ramp\r\nof the wheel and the lock would open automatically when the magnetic\r\nseal was completed.\r\n\r\nGreg felt the sudden, crushing weight of gravity. He caught at the\r\nsafety webbing until the pressure stabilized. From that point--if\r\nhe remembered his early flights accurately--it would be six minutes\r\nbefore the ship reached the satellite. He had won. Nothing could stop\r\nhim--nothing.\r\n\r\nThen Holly Wilson screamed and Greg saw the twelve year old boy\r\nstanding beside the flight console.\r\n\r\n"It wasn\'t a virus invasion," the child said, shouting to be heard\r\nabove the roar of the power tubes. "I didn\'t know you were thinking\r\nthat this morning. I could have explained if--"\r\n\r\nGreg swung his fist--against an emptiness. The boy rematerialized two\r\nfeet away.\r\n\r\n"Reset your course!" the boy cried. "You understand machines, Captain;\r\nwe don\'t. And I can\'t get enough technical information from your mind\r\nto do it for you."\r\n\r\n"One two, buckle my shoe!" Greg thought, in an ecstacy of triumph.\r\nHe had kept that much of his thinking safe. The kids were making one\r\nlast effort to save themselves--he was sure of that--but it wouldn\'t\r\nwork. They had the alien skill to pry into a human mind, but they were\r\nhelpless against man\'s machines. Inexorably the computer would drive\r\nthe ship to the satellite; nothing could stop it.\r\n\r\n"Think rationally," the boy pleaded, "not with your emotions. You have\r\nonly four minutes left, Captain Greg. If the Redearth was a virus\r\ninvasion as you believe it was, why were only the children affected?\r\nWe made it an antibiotic; we used it for millions of people; every\r\ncolonist was innoculated before he emigrated."\r\n\r\nHe was lying. He had to be lying. He was trying to confuse Greg with\r\nside issues. It didn\'t matter now how the virus had been brought back\r\nto the earth. "Three four, open the door; five six, pick up sticks."\r\n\r\n"We aren\'t different, Captain. We\'ve simply crossed your frontier in\r\na different way. We have a theory how it happened, but no proof. The\r\nMartian Redearth worked as a sort of mental catalyst when it was used\r\nfor newly born infants. It awoke the full thought potential of our\r\ncerebral cortex. That\'s all. We have no ability that men haven\'t always\r\nbeen capable of; if you believe that, you can do it yourself."\r\n\r\nBelief!--mystical nonsense. Did the kid really think Greg would buy\r\nthat? Greg glanced at Adrian Vayle. The scientist\'s face was gray\r\nwith horror. Sweat stood in beads on his lips. Holly Wilson clung\r\ndesperately to his hand.\r\n\r\n"I drew a wheel in the sand for you, Captain: another monument to\r\nanother pioneer, the first primitive who grasped what we might do with\r\na rolling disk. He gave us terror and disaster, yes; but he gave us\r\nprogress, too. Do we blame him because his heirs sometimes misapplied\r\nhis discovery? Do we call ourselves alien invaders because we have\r\na more complex technology than his? Then why heap shame on yourself\r\nbecause you gave us a frontier in the stars? It won\'t end the way you\r\nthought it would; nothing ever does. We\'re your children, Captain;\r\nwe\'re your new frontier."\r\n\r\n"Aliens!" Greg spat.\r\n\r\n"My research was for nothing," Dr. Vayle said numbly. The words were a\r\nwhisper of agony, the torment of a soul ripped out of the comfortable\r\nworld of madness.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t say that. You\'ll finish your work," Holly told him soothingly.\r\n\r\nHe pushed her away. "Not now. It was pointless."\r\n\r\nThe boy wrung his hands. "You have only two minutes left. Forget your\r\nemotions; put aside your self-pity. It\'s a luxury you can\'t afford any\r\nlonger. Use the brains God gave you, Captain Greg. You can\'t land on\r\nthe satellite. You must--"\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGreg swung again and again he missed the boy, but he lost his balance\r\nand plunged into the pilot computer, smashing the machine. Greg saw\r\nwhat he had done and began to laugh. It was impossible, now, for anyone\r\nto change the course setting. The boy\'s pleading was for nothing.\r\n\r\nThe twelve year old rematerialized and stood looking at the broken\r\ncomputer. Then shrugged his shoulders calmly. "A minute and a half\r\nleft, Captain; and now you have no choice." The child sighed, as a\r\nparent might have sighed over the prank of a mischievious son.\r\n\r\n"You killed the mad dog," he said. "You didn\'t hesitate about that. I\r\nthought him into Port City to give you an object lesson. You missed\r\nthe point, I\'m afraid. You couldn\'t understand that you were yourself\r\na mad dog yapping at our heels. Potentially, all the older generation\r\nthreaten us the same way. Your kind of emotional reasoning, in one\r\nform or another, will sooner or later infect them all. We encouraged\r\nthe migration to the colonies in order to prevent a conflict. By\r\nadministering the Redearth to every adult who left the earth, we\r\nthought we might make a few of them realize their mental capacity.\r\nApparently the catalyst works only with an infant, and not always then.\r\nIn a sense, Captain Greg, your frontier has made us two species--ours,\r\nmankind; yours, the rejects; the unfinished men."\r\n\r\nDr. Vayle made a choking sound deep in his throat. His dream was gone;\r\nthe comfort of his madness had been stripped away from him.\r\n\r\n"And if it does come to the point of conflict," the boy went on\r\nquietly, "we fully intend to survive."\r\n\r\n"Not after I reach the satellite," Greg answered grimly. His voice\r\nsounded hollow and uncertain, even to himself. The boy had destroyed\r\nthe dramatic fiction of a virus invasion. Greg\'s dream, too, was gone.\r\n\r\n"I tried to save you, Captain, but by your own violence you made that\r\nimpossible. Now you will provide another object lesson. What I have\r\ntold you is true; every man has our ability. In sixty seconds your ship\r\nwill reach the old satellite; the airlock will open automatically--only\r\nthere will be no air in the wheel. This shell rusted open years ago.\r\nYou face death just as certain as if you leaped into outer space. But\r\nyou can save yourselves--all three of you--by thinking yourselves back\r\nto the earth, or out to one of the colonies. This experiment interests\r\nus a great deal. We didn\'t intend to resort to it quite so soon, but\r\nyou\'ve given us an ideal opportunity. If you can unshackle your minds\r\nnow, we have hope for the rest of the rejects. There will be fewer mad\r\ndogs for us to dispose of later on."\r\n\r\nThe boy was gone.\r\n\r\nGreg felt the ship slide into the ramp of the satellite. He heard the\r\ngrapples clang against the hull, and the scream of rusting metal as the\r\nairlock began to open. A paralyzing emotional opiate flamed through his\r\nmind: this was a dream, nothing more. In a moment he would jerk himself\r\nawake and be amused by his terror. But there was something else in his\r\nmind, too, a stirring of greatness, a fire of magnificence, a new self\r\nhe had never known before. He groped blindly toward that pinpoint of\r\nlight.\r\n\r\nFrom a great distance, like an echo of shattering ice, he heard\r\nAdrian Vayle\'s voice, "The children have mastered the art of hypnotic\r\nillusion, but obviously they cannot violate the established physical\r\nlaws. Our problem is entirely mechanical. I am sure Captain Greg can\r\nwork out...."\r\n\r\nVayle had found the sublime ignorance of sanity; and that was no\r\nsolution.\r\n\r\n"Kiss me," Holly Wilson whispered. "Nothing else matters, Adrian."\r\n\r\nAnd she had chosen the equally blind sterility of resignation.\r\n\r\nGreg knew they were both wrong. He was a realist; a spaceman had to be.\r\nThe kid had been able to read his thoughts; naturally the kid could put\r\nthis weird sense of a new self in Greg\'s mind. It was only a clever,\r\nsemantic manipulation of words to keep Greg from using the satellite.\r\n\r\nHe squared his shoulders. The star-point of greatness flickered out in\r\nhis mind. Greg was a man, a product of a sophisticated and intelligent\r\nculture. This undernourished, alien generation wasn\'t going to confuse\r\nhim with mystic mumbo jumbo about belief. He knew how to sort out fact\r\nfrom childish magic.\r\n\r\nHe walked toward the lock, straight and proud with the confidence of\r\nman. He was smiling savagely. Mankind was no mad dog, to be crushed\r\ninto oblivion by a pack of puny children. 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'The Automatic Maid-of-All-Work: A Possible Tale of the Near Future'

'Campbell, M. L.'

b"\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Automatic Maid-of-All-Work: A Possible Tale of the Near Future\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Automatic Maid-of-All-Work: A Possible Tale of the Near Future\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: M. L. Campbell\r\n\r\nRelease date: March 12, 2019 [eBook #59053]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed\r\n Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\r\n produced from images generously made available by The\r\n Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AUTOMATIC MAID-OF-ALL-WORK: A POSSIBLE TALE OF THE NEAR FUTURE ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed\r\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\r\nproduced from images generously made available by The\r\nInternet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\xe2\x80\x99s Note: This story was originally published in The Canadian\r\nMagazine of Politics, Science, Art and Literature for July, 1893.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE AUTOMATIC MAID-OF-ALL-WORK.\r\n\r\n_A Possible Tale of the Near Future._\r\n\r\nBY M. L. CAMPBELL.\r\n\r\n\r\nYes; I mean what I say\xe2\x80\x94an automatic maid-of-all-work, invented by my\r\nhusband, John Matheson.\r\n\r\nYou see it was this way,\xe2\x80\x94the old story of servants, ever since we began\r\nhousekeeping. We\xe2\x80\x99ve had every kind, and if we did get a good one,\r\nsomething would come along to take her off.\r\n\r\nYou know John has invented lots of things. There\xe2\x80\x99s that door-spring\r\nnow,\xe2\x80\x94not much when you look at it but it brings in quite a little income.\r\nHe used to say that he was spending his spare time on an automatic\r\nmaid-of-all-work. Of course, I laughed, said I wished he would, and\r\nthought no more of it.\r\n\r\nWell, the day the last girl left, John announced that the automatic\r\nmaid-of-all-work was completed, and that he would stay at home next day\r\nand show me how to work it.\r\n\r\nOf course, I didn\xe2\x80\x99t believe in it.\r\n\r\nIt was a queer-looking thing, with its long arms, for all the world like\r\none of those old-fashioned wind-mills you see in pictures of foreign\r\ncountries. It had a face like one of those twenty-four hour clocks, only\r\nthere were no hands; each number was a sort of electric button. It was\r\nrun by electricity, you know. The battery was inside. I didn\xe2\x80\x99t understand\r\nit very well; I never could see into anything in the way of machinery;\r\nI never pretend to listen when John tells me about his inventions. The\r\nfigures, as I said, were buttons, and you just had to connect them with\r\nsome wires inside. There were a lot of wires, each for some kind of work\r\nwhich would be done at the hour indicated by the button you connected it\r\nwith. This was handy, so that we would not have to get up in the morning\r\ntill breakfast-time, and would be handy in lots of ways.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow look, Fanny,\xe2\x80\x9d said John; \xe2\x80\x9cdo try and understand how it works.\r\nYou see this wire now; I\xe2\x80\x99ll connect it with button number six, and at\r\nthat hour the maid will light the fire, sweep the kitchen and then the\r\ndining-room. Now this button number seven will be the one to set the\r\nalarm to. It will sound for about ten minutes (I\xe2\x80\x99d sound it now only it\r\nmakes a fearful noise); then the maid will go upstairs to turn down the\r\nbeds\xe2\x80\x94a convenient arrangement in many ways. Then it will go downstairs,\r\nlay the cloth for breakfast, make the tea and toast, bring in the things,\r\nand ring the breakfast bell. You\xe2\x80\x99ll have to leave all the breakfast\r\nthings on one shelf, of course, and measure the oatmeal and tea also. We\r\nwon\xe2\x80\x99t set any more buttons to-night. It\xe2\x80\x99s just as well to be around at\r\nfirst to see that all goes right. There may be some adjustment necessary.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWe went to bed then, and it was daylight when I awoke. I was conscious\r\nof a peculiar whirring noise, but I hadn\xe2\x80\x99t got thoroughly awakened when\r\nI heard the most awful screams and thumps, and the two boys came running\r\ninto our room in their night-dresses, and after them the automatic\r\nmaid-of-all-work.\r\n\r\nBy this time I was out of bed, but John sleeps very soundly. He\r\nstarted as the maid jerked the bed-clothes down and laid them over the\r\nfoot-board, but he wasn\xe2\x80\x99t quick enough. It took him under the arm. It\r\nhad an awful grip, too,\xe2\x80\x94and laid him across the foot-board, after giving\r\nhim a thump or two, as I do the pillows. (John had watched me do it and\r\nhad the thing to perfection. He didn\xe2\x80\x99t suppose it would be tried on him,\r\nthough). He didn\xe2\x80\x99t seem quite prepared for such a performance, for he\r\nflounced around so that he and the bed-clothes, pillows and all, landed\r\nin a heap on the floor.\r\n\r\nBy this time the boys had got over their fright, having been treated in\r\nthe same manner, and we all laughed. John can\xe2\x80\x99t bear to be laughed at.\r\nHowever, we proceeded to dress after the maid had gone downstairs. I\r\ncould see John was a little nervous, but he didn\xe2\x80\x99t want to show it, so he\r\nwaited till I was ready. The boys got down first, and we could hear them\r\nlaughing.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cI dare say you\xe2\x80\x99ll have to arrange the table a little, Fanny,\xe2\x80\x9d said John,\r\nas we went down, \xe2\x80\x9cbut that won\xe2\x80\x99t be much to do when all the things are\r\non.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWell, we went into the dining-room, and sure enough the table was set,\r\nand pretty well too, only that the butter dish, with the butter, was\r\nupside down on the table, and the coal-scuttle was set at John\xe2\x80\x99s place,\r\ninstead of the oatmeal dish. That was because John, who always leaves\r\nthings in ridiculous places, had left it standing on the back of the\r\nstove after putting in the coal ready for the morning fire. The porridge\r\nwas standing cooked on the stove. We had got an arrangement with a white\r\nearthen bowl set into a kettle, and the bowl had just to be removed and\r\ncarried in. However, the coal scuttle had stood in the way, and John\r\nhad to carry it out and bring in the porridge. The toast was scorched a\r\nlittle, but the eggs were boiled just to perfection, and we enjoyed it\r\nall immensely.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the maid was upstairs making the beds, and such beds you never\r\nsaw. You\xe2\x80\x99d think they\xe2\x80\x99d been cast in a mould. The maid came downstairs\r\njust as we were through, and then John pulled another wire. After doing\r\nso he acted rather strangely. He didn\xe2\x80\x99t seem to be able to let go the\r\nwire for a minute. It gave him a shock, you know. After that he handled\r\nthe wires more carefully.\r\n\r\nThen the maid proceeded to clear the table. Here was a slight\r\ncomplication, however, for the maid washed everything, and though we had\r\neaten up nearly all, still there was some butter in the dish, a bowl of\r\nsugar, and the salt-cellar. However, as there was lots of good hot water,\r\nthe dishes after they were wiped were as clean as could be; but John\r\nsuggested that for the present, until he could make some improvements,\r\nthe eatables had better be removed first, for \xe2\x80\x9cof course,\xe2\x80\x9d he said,\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cthere will be some imperfections.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cNow, Fanny, I suppose you want to wash, don\xe2\x80\x99t you? You have the clothes\r\nready, I see.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYes, but it seems to me the dining-room is not swept very clean. Anyway\r\nthe crumbs ought to be swept up.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cExactly,\xe2\x80\x9d returned John, \xe2\x80\x9conly, you see, I fixed it so that it would\r\njust run around the table once before breakfast, then afterwards you can\r\nhave all the furniture moved out and the whole room swept every day.\xe2\x80\x9d\r\n\r\nWell, the maid proceeded to remove the furniture. It went to the middle\r\nof the room, then began to circle around, removing everything it came\r\nin contact with, and setting things out in the hall. John dropped the\r\nleaves of the table, and all went well till it came to the stove and\r\nattempted to remove that also; but something was amiss, and it veered\r\noff to one side. John started forward to turn it off that track, but it\r\npromptly picked him up and removed him. I forgot to say that a revolving\r\nbrush in the bottom was sweeping all this time, and now the thing was\r\nmaking the last circuit as I thought, for it had touched the wall on\r\nthree sides, and I was wondering how it would get into the corners,\r\nwhile John watched the stove, and wondered if it could pass between that\r\nand the wall without coming in contact with the stove. But there the\r\npassage was not wide enough, and the stove, a little open grate, was\r\npicked up and removed. The pipes fell down and made a lot of dirt, but\r\nthat was pretty well swept up, as the maid had to make two or three more\r\ncircles to allow for the corners. John replaced the furniture, as he had\r\nnot provided for that part of the work. The stove we decided to carry\r\nout for the season, but in the meantime he had started the maid at the\r\nwashing. You see there was no time lost between things; and I tell you\r\nthose clothes were washed, and so was John\xe2\x80\x99s coat, which being a pretty\r\ngood one he had taken off and laid on the bench. Then we had the kitchen\r\nscrubbed, the same apparatus which did the sweeping doing that also. John\r\nadjusted it so that the furniture was merely pushed aside. The worst of\r\nthe thing was that you could not stop the maid, when it got going, till\r\nit had run down, and what was more, if you interfered with the wires when\r\nit was going, you were apt to get a shock from the battery. This was\r\ninconvenient sometimes; for instance, after the kitchen was all scrubbed,\r\nthe thing still ran around the walls scrubbing as hard as ever. John said\r\nthe only thing was to pull another wire and set it to work at something\r\nelse; it would run till after the tea dishes were washed, anyway, and\r\nprobably we could find something harmless to keep it employed. Just then\r\nJohn was called out to speak to a man about some coal, and I undertook\r\nto head the thing across the middle of the room. Unfortunately it rushed\r\nstraight into the dining-room, water-pail and all. I didn\xe2\x80\x99t care much.\r\nI wanted a new carpet for that room, anyway, and I knew that sooty spot\r\nwould never come out. The water in the pail was very dirty by this time.\r\nJohn had not thought of its having to be changed.\r\n\r\nPresently John returned, and we got into the kitchen again. There was\r\nanother funny thing about it. Whenever anyone got going ahead of it in\r\nthe same direction it was sure to follow, and the only way to get out\r\nof its road was to double back on your own track and dodge it. It was\r\nthe current of air it followed. John said he had a reason for making it\r\nthat way. While sweeping the kitchen it got after one of the boys once,\r\nand it dodged around tables and chairs just as he did, till John told\r\nhim to turn and go back. It got after Bruno when we got it out of the\r\ndining-room into the kitchen. He had just come in from the barn to get\r\nsomething to eat. He turned tail and howled, but he could not get out of\r\nthe way till he jumped out of the window. The cat fared worse than Bruno\r\nthough, for she was picked up along with the wiping cloth and rubbed over\r\nthe floor for about three yards before she managed to get free. There was\r\nquite a hole in the window, and we have not seen the cat since.\r\n\r\nJohn said there was a fine arrangement for answering the door. Of\r\ncourse, in some instances, we would have to go ourselves, especially\r\nif any old lady or timid person, who had not made the acquaintance of\r\nthe maid, were expected, but if the postman or parcel delivery it would\r\nbe all right. Anyone could send in a card, too, you see. But the best\r\nof all was the arrangement for putting tramps off the premises. John\r\nwas just explaining how this was done when Fred exclaimed, \xe2\x80\x9cThere\xe2\x80\x99s an\r\nold fellow now; I wonder if he is coming here!\xe2\x80\x9d Yes, sure enough; he\r\nturned in at the gate, and presently there was a ring at the door-bell.\r\nBeggars are so impudent, and this was an old offender, so I didn\xe2\x80\x99t say\r\nanything when John pressed the wire, and we all followed to the door to\r\nsee the effect, John remarking that it wouldn\xe2\x80\x99t hurt him. The door was\r\nopened quite quietly, but closed with a bang after the maid. At first,\r\nupon re-opening the door, we thought it had missed fire, for the tramp,\r\nlooking somewhat scared, stood at one side of the doorway, but the maid\r\nwas scuttling down the path with some limp figure in its arms. I was\r\nsorry to recognize an uncle of John\xe2\x80\x99s, from whom John had expectations.\r\nI knew his bald head. The maid had him by the middle, and his feet and\r\nhead hung down, so that his hat dropped off. He was too much surprised to\r\nattempt resistance, and the maid deposited him in a heap in the gutter,\r\nand then returned. We were so bothered by the turn affairs had taken\r\nthat we forgot to get out of the way. Fred received a slap which sent\r\nhim sprawling. John was lifted bodily, after the manner of his uncle,\r\nand laid upon the table, while I, my skirts being caught, was forced\r\nto run backwards in a very undignified manner, till, by grasping a\r\ndoor-knob, I wrenched myself free at the expense of a width of my skirt.\r\nI stood hanging on to that door-knob as if I expected momentarily to be\r\nsnatched up and thrown out of the window, when my eyes happened to fall\r\nupon Tommy. He was lying upon his back on the floor, his legs slowly\r\nwaving in the air. He made not a sound. The expression on his face gave\r\nme such a start that I relaxed my hold on the door-knob, thinking that\r\nhe was injured internally. But he raised his hand, and feebly waved me\r\naside. He was simply too tired to laugh any more, and was obliged to\r\nlie down and wave his legs to express his feelings. Fred had begun to\r\nwhimper after picking himself up, but, catching sight of Tommy, laughed\r\ninstead, until something in their father\xe2\x80\x99s eye caused both of the boys to\r\ntake themselves out of doors. However, they perched upon the fence just\r\noutside of a window and looked in.\r\n\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cYou see, Fanny, we must expect some complications at first,\xe2\x80\x9d said John,\r\n\xe2\x80\x9cbut after awhile we\xe2\x80\x99ll get used to running it better.\xe2\x80\x9d This he said\r\nas the maid started out of the front door again, after having buzzed\r\naround the hall for a minute; for, as I told you, it was necessary to\r\nstart it at some new work in order to stop what it was doing, and, in\r\nthe meantime, while we were recovering our breath, it was making trips\r\nthrough the hall to the front gate, and hence to the gutter and back\r\nagain. John was explaining that we could arrange the length of the trip\r\nas we pleased, and it need ordinarily be only to the front door. Just\r\nthen, however, we heard most awful screams, and we rushed to the door to\r\nsee what was the matter. It seems that the maid had encountered at the\r\ngate the form of a stout, elderly female, with a basket and an umbrella,\r\nand of course had proceeded to remove the obstacle. However, the obstacle\r\nrefused to be removed, and they were having a lively time of it. A crowd\r\nwas beginning to collect, and a policeman appeared around the corner. He\r\ninterfered in behalf of the stout female, and attempted to arrest the\r\nmaid. The maid, however, made short work of him. It did not succeed,\r\nit\xe2\x80\x99s true, in depositing him in the ditch, but it spoiled his hat, and\r\ncaused him to beat a hasty retreat; then, having removed all obstacles,\r\ntraversed the remainder of the limit and returned to the house, followed\r\nby another angry policeman, who, after considerable persuasion, was\r\ninduced to depart.\r\n\r\nAfter the door closed upon the policeman, John looked at me and I at him.\r\nThe maid had accomplished several revolutions around the dining-room and\r\nwas about to return. \xe2\x80\x9cMercy, Fanny, you\xe2\x80\x99re always talking how much there\r\nis to do; can\xe2\x80\x99t you think of something I\xe2\x80\x99m not supposed to know.\xe2\x80\x9d \xe2\x80\x9cNo,\xe2\x80\x9d I\r\nanswered, grimly, but an idea struck John, and he immediately hurried to\r\npull another wire. He did not accomplish it with impunity, however, and\r\nI\xe2\x80\x99m sorry to say he made use of some expressions, as he danced around for\r\na minute, which I was glad the boys didn\xe2\x80\x99t hear.\r\n\r\nThe maid now went out to the woodshed, and John fixed the handle of the\r\naxe into the attachment at the end of one of the arms. Here was something\r\nout of the ordinary way, and John brightened up considerably as the axe\r\nbegan to move up and down with a regular, double motion, reached forward,\r\nstruck a stick at random with the axe blade so as to catch the stick,\r\ndrew it forward into position and struck it, splitting it in the centre,\r\nand threw the pieces with two other arms into the corner, and so on till\r\nthe pile began to get low. Any sticks that were not split fine enough,\r\nJohn threw back.\r\n\r\nAll proceeded well enough till the last stick was split. Then the maid\r\nstarted to buzz around in search of more. It attacked the saw horse and\r\ndemolished it, ran into a tub and reduced it to kindling wood, ripped\r\nup a barrel of ashes and raised a terrible dust which completely drove\r\nJohn into the house. All this time he was trying to get near enough to\r\nstart it off on another track, but it wheeled around and flung the axe so\r\nmenacingly that John got excited and lost his head.\r\n\r\nWhen the dust had subsided sufficiently we went out again. By this time\r\nthe maid had anchored beside the new wood pile and was splitting it over.\r\nThis would not have mattered much; we didn\xe2\x80\x99t mind the wood being reduced\r\nto matches, but it was close to the shed window and the sticks were being\r\nflung through, carrying broken glass with them into the street. John did\r\nnot care for another visit from the policeman, but he was completely\r\nnonplussed. Just then he heard a stifled chuckle and looking over his\r\nshoulder he saw several boys perched on the fence and among them our own,\r\nwho immediately dropped down. But what maddened John was the sight of\r\na newspaper reporter also, who was evidently sketching the scene. Then\r\nthe air began to be filled with flying missiles which John threw at the\r\nmaid, till, by some lucky hit, some of the machinery was jarred and the\r\nmaid rushed wildly around the shed, the axe now slashing about with\r\na motion evidently intended for some other office than wood chopping.\r\nJohn ran to shut the door in the face of the reporter who was filling\r\nsheets with sketches. The maid, however, started after him. John stopped,\r\ntried to dodge, hesitated, then ran out of the back gate and down the\r\nroad, the maid thrashing at him with the axe. This was serious. I ran to\r\nthe gate and anxiously looked after them, while the boys and reporter\r\nfollowed in the wake of the maid. I very much feared the maid would run\r\ninto something and do some damage, but I soon saw that, as, of course,\r\nJohn avoided all obstacles so did the maid and simply followed him. I\r\nwondered why he did not reverse and pass the maid, thus putting it off\r\nthe track. Presently, however, John returned alone and looking somewhat\r\ntravel-stained. He pushed past me and went upstairs to the bathroom. I\r\ndid not dare to follow to ask questions, but Fred and Tommy also returned\r\nsoon and told me what happened after I lost sight of them.\r\n\r\nIt seems that, first of all, the axe flew off the handle and chopped a\r\nrooster, which was scurrying out of the way, almost in two. Then they\r\ncaught up with a cow. It was quite a bit out of town, and she started to\r\nrun in the same direction. John swerved to one side and the maid caught\r\nup with the cow and belabored her with the axe handle. This maddened the\r\ncow so that she made for the river and rushed in, the maid after her.\r\nThey slashed about in the stream for a minute: then the maid sank and\r\nthe cow appeared on the other side.\r\n\r\nNext morning, about an hour after John went down town, he sent up a new\r\ncarpet for the dining-room. We have a German girl now, and I don\xe2\x80\x99t know\r\nbut that she\xe2\x80\x99s better than the automatic maid-of-all-work.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Automatic Maid-of-All-Work, by M. L. 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'Pellucidar'

'Burroughs, Edgar Rice'

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'The War in the Air'

'Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)'

b'The Project Gutenberg EBook of The War in the Air, by H. G. Wells\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or\r\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\r\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org\r\n\r\n** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook, Details Below **\r\n** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. **\r\n\r\nTitle: The War in the Air\r\n\r\nAuthor: H. G. Wells\r\n\r\nPosting Date: April 21, 2011 [EBook #8969]\r\nRelease Date: September, 2005\r\nFirst Posted: January 2, 2004\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCharacter set encoding: ASCII\r\n\r\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAR IN THE AIR ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Mike Eschman\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe War in the Air\r\n\r\nby H. G. 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Wells\r\n\r\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAR IN THE AIR ***\r\n\r\n***** This file should be named 8969-readme.txt or 8969-readme.zip *****\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\n http://www.gutenberg.org/8/9/6/8969/\r\n\r\nProduced by Mike Eschman\r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be\r\nrenamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no one\r\nowns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and\r\nyou!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission\r\nand without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the\r\nGeneral Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and\r\ndistributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the\r\nPROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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'Inhibition'

'Causey, James'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Inhibition\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Inhibition\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: James Causey\r\n\r\nIllustrator: Leo Summers\r\n\r\nRelease date: March 1, 2019 [eBook #58991]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\n Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INHIBITION ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nProduced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n INHIBITION\r\n\r\n BY JAMES CAUSEY\r\n\r\n _Regardless of scientific attainment, any culture\r\n is vulnerable to inhibition. And Saxon was a good\r\n agent; no culture nor individual would sway his\r\n loyal appraisal...._\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1955.\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nPlanetfall.\r\n\r\nHere the forest was green and cool. A soft, damp wind promised rain.\r\nThe colonists moved down the ramp, staring at the crew members piling\r\ncrates of supplies in the meadow beyond.\r\n\r\nFrowns. Then whispers.\r\n\r\nSaxon glanced up. His nostrils flared. "Hurry," he told the crewmen,\r\nand came forward, beaming. He was tired. It showed in his feverish,\r\ntoo-bright smile as he said, "Afraid Engineering\'s a little behind\r\nschedule. They\'ll be here tomorrow morning to erect your city. Tonight\r\nyou\'ll have to rough it."\r\n\r\nReactions varied. The women murmured and moved closer to their men.\r\nSome smiled. One man thoughtfully eyed the mounting pyramid of supplies.\r\n\r\n"You\'re getting a choice world, Jarl," Saxon said, clapping him on\r\nthe shoulder. "Survey spent thirty years here, balancing the ecology,\r\nwiping out the bugs and carnivores. Eden." Saxon tasted the word like\r\nwine.\r\n\r\nJarl Madsen\'s face was stone. "Aren\'t they all named Eden?"\r\n\r\nFrom the forest came a chittering bark, like anthropomorphic laughter.\r\nSaxon shivered, remembering the thing that chittered, the three-inch\r\nfangs and the talons. "Hardly," he lied. "That, incidentally, was a\r\nNarl. Herbivore, very harmless."\r\n\r\nMadsen walked past him, towards the supplies.\r\n\r\nSaxon moved among the colonists, shaking hands, congratulating,\r\nspeaking of green fields and good crops and a virgin planet where every\r\nman could carve an empire. These last moments were the worst, when you\r\nsaid goodbye, knowing that thirty percent of them would be dead within\r\nthe week. He saw Madsen opening a supply case. _Damn him! Just three\r\nmore minutes!_\r\n\r\nThe last crew member dumped his load and hurried into the airlock.\r\nSaxon started casually after him, too late. Madsen stood there, his\r\ngrin taut, nailed on.\r\n\r\n"Primitive pre-fab shelters," he said thickly. "Axes and seeds! The\r\ncity was a lie. We\'re on our own, is that it? _Why--_"\r\n\r\nSaxon\'s palm flashed and Madsen fell writhing. There were shouts, hands\r\nclawing at him as he tore free, sprinting for the ship.\r\n\r\n_Always running_, he thought bitterly. _I\'m getting old._\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe walked through the silent corridors of the ship, a lonely figure\r\nin the black uniform of the Inhibition Corps, and once he stared\r\nthrough the porthole at Eden XXI, a mottled sphere receding into the\r\nstar-frosted night. His mouth twisted. Conceive a colony in fear, breed\r\nit in terror. Watch it adapt, grow. If it grows too fast, hurt it. Hurt\r\nit with disease, famine, dictatorship. If it keeps growing--destroy it.\r\n\r\nThe captain came down the corridor and stood at respectful attention\r\nbefore the black uniform. "Stereo call, Commander. Prime Base."\r\n\r\nSaxon slowly went to his cabin. The stereo panel was flashing steady\r\ncrimson to designate top priority and he restrained a savage impulse\r\nto shut the thing off. He slumped in the control chair, and the tri-di\r\nimage of a man at a desk slowly coalesced. It was a granite-featured\r\nold man with eyes like blue ice, and Saxon\'s head snapped sharply\r\nerect. It was Primus Gant, Corps Director. At ninety parsecs Gant\'s\r\nfeatures were slightly hazed, but his voice was clear, sharp as a sword.\r\n\r\n"Report, Commander."\r\n\r\n"My extrapolation went through an hour ago. Also my resignation."\r\n\r\nNothing moved in Gant\'s face or his eyes. Saxon said stiffly,\r\n"Planetfall uneventful. Area inimical. Initial shock conception,\r\nprobable God-betrayal mythology by fourth generation. Those things\r\nin the forest should get thirty percent of them the first week.\r\nWeaponless, they\'ll run. The two to one female ratio should make for an\r\nagricultural matriarchy by the sixth generation. Recommend intermittent\r\ncheck at that time." He took a slow angry breath. "Why didn\'t we give\r\nthem weapons?"\r\n\r\nGant\'s smile was acid. "Because we haven\'t yet tried an agricultural\r\nmatriarchy, Commander. Because the lower the initial survival factor,\r\nthe slower the culture development. Getting squeamish?"\r\n\r\nSaxon said doggedly, "They didn\'t have a chance."\r\n\r\n"Neither did twenty million people on Earth in the last atomic war."\r\nThe Director\'s voice was soft. "All colonists volunteer. Some have a\r\nvision. Others have a latent power drive that stasis can\'t satisfy.\r\nThey\'re misfits regardless, potential threats to stasis. Remember your\r\nlast leave, Commander? I believe you met my son."\r\n\r\nSaxon nodded curtly. He remembered the Director\'s son as a quiet,\r\nsoft-spoken youth with the yearning for far places in his eyes.\r\n\r\n"I had hoped he would qualify for the Corps." Gant looked suddenly\r\nold, tired. "Instead he\'s volunteering for Colonial Service. Did you\r\never lose a son, Commander?"\r\n\r\nThey stared at each other across the humming emptiness and Saxon\r\nfinally whispered, "I\'m sorry."\r\n\r\n"Stasis is all we can afford," the Director said numbly. "Man can\'t\r\nhave Utopia yet. Because he\'s still--Man. Perhaps he\'ll never have it.\r\nBut by God he\'ll try! Resignation withdrawn?"\r\n\r\nSaxon nodded. He could not speak.\r\n\r\n"I\'m glad. The ship\'s captain had orders to burn you down had you\r\nrefused." Gant\'s face was wooden. "Inhibition agents never quit, they\r\njust die in harness. You\'ll take the lifeboat to Eden XI for sixth\r\ngeneration check. Good hunting, Commander."\r\n\r\nThe image faded. Saxon sat for a long time, staring into the darkness.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nEden XI was three parsecs distant, near Algol. For the next ten hours\r\nSaxon paced the marvelously equipped lifeboat and absorbed data from\r\nthe robot recorder. He stared at the hard crystal ache of the stars and\r\nthought of the Director\'s son. He thought about the shining cities of\r\nEarth, and about stasis.\r\n\r\nStasis meant--control.\r\n\r\nIt meant control of a billion people, a rigid planetary economy. It\r\nmeant the Assassination branch of the Corps. Assassination (carefully\r\ncontrived to appear accidental) took care of those few malcontents\r\nwho were either too smart or too stupid to sign up for colonization.\r\nIt meant a gradual weeding out of the unsane, the power-mad, it meant\r\nlearning the true meaning of sanity and peace and racial brotherhood.\r\n\r\nAnd it meant the stagnation of science, a thick film of dust gathering\r\non the textbooks of the military tactician, and warships rotting at\r\nanchor. It meant the white spire of the Stasis Administration Center at\r\nNew Washington, and the words graven over the golden portals:\r\n\r\n_Know thyself, Man. Or die!_\r\n\r\nWas the dream worth it?\r\n\r\nOr was Man doomed to die like a brawling ape, playing with lightning?\r\n\r\nSaxon could not answer.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the colonies had to be inhibited. One interplanetary war\r\ncould smash the fragile structure so painstakingly built over the last\r\nfew hundred years. This was the turning point, the final cross-roads of\r\nMan\'s destiny.\r\n\r\nSaxon smiled bleakly.\r\n\r\nUltimately there would be a colony they could neither inhibit or\r\ndestroy. The adaptive ultimate. That colony would be Man no longer, but\r\nHomo Superior.\r\n\r\nBut by then, it wouldn\'t matter.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe lifeboat came in on the night side of Eden XI, and hung above the\r\nblue mountains like a basking shark. Saxon checked his coordinates.\r\nThis had been the original landing site, almost two hundred years ago.\r\nHe switched the infra-view on maximum, and began to cruise in widening\r\nspirals. These sixth generation hops were usually routine. If nomadic,\r\na few political shifts could help warp the culture into a set pattern.\r\nA simple matter to play the visiting deity, pick one warped psychotic,\r\nand invest him with power. A dictatorship was by far the best way of\r\ninhibiting a young culture. Agricultural city-states were almost as\r\neasy. Designate a particular crop as sacred, kill the rotation program,\r\nimpoverish the land, introduce serfdom.\r\n\r\nBy dawn, Saxon found what he was looking for. A row of cleared fields\r\nand a farmhouse. He reconnoitered a hundred miles farther and frowned.\r\nThere was no clump of dwellings, no sign of a village trading community.\r\n\r\nHe brought the ship down in a forest three miles away from the\r\nfarmhouse and camouflaged it to look like a great mossy boulder. He\r\nspent the entire morning testing the atmosphere and the soil with a\r\nsavage patience. In the early years of the Corps, virus mutations had\r\ntaken a fearful toll of intermittent spotters.\r\n\r\nFinally he discarded his uniform and selected a pair of homespuns from\r\nthe ship\'s wardrobe locker. Under the homespuns reposed his utility\r\nkit, a miniature arsenal.\r\n\r\nLate that afternoon he emerged from the forest and stood at the edge\r\nof the cleared fields, a weatherbeaten itinerant, obviously willing to\r\nchop wood for a meal. Abruptly his jaw muscle twitched.\r\n\r\nThe scene was pastoral, perfect.\r\n\r\nThe man, plowing the south forty. The little girl, playing in the\r\nshadow of the sleepy farmhouse.\r\n\r\nBut no beast pulled that plow. A giant of a man with power and\r\nintelligence stamped on his bronze features pushed the plow by hand, in\r\na die-straight furrow.\r\n\r\nThe little girl was blonde and elfin. She wore sandals, her tunic was\r\nbrief and plain. She was playing follow-the-leader--\r\n\r\nWith a robot.\r\n\r\nThe robot was tall. The sun struck sparks from its steel carapace as it\r\nlumbered after the girl. Saxon stood frozen as she came flying towards\r\nhim in a burst of tossing blond hair and laughter, as she saw him and\r\ncame to a dead halt.\r\n\r\n"Hello," Saxon said. He tried to smile.\r\n\r\n"Hello." Her inflection was slurred. After six generations, naturally.\r\nHer blue eyes sparkled. "Foot-sore, stranger?"\r\n\r\nThe words had the cadence of a ritual greeting. Saxon stared at the\r\nrobot and said carefully, "Yes."\r\n\r\n"He\'s only a primer model," she said, following his gaze. "Next year\r\nwhen I\'m twelve Father promised to install secondary circuits. My\r\nname\'s Veena. What\'s yours?"\r\n\r\nSaxon introduced himself, as the giant at the plow came forward. His\r\nwhite smile was a benediction, his voice a lambent organ. "Welcome,\r\nrover. Haven\'t seen one of you in months. I\'m Lang. Agricultural\r\nhobbyist. You\'ll stay?"\r\n\r\nHis tone was almost pleading. Saxon nodded inarticulately, followed\r\nthem towards the farmhouse. His hands were shaking.\r\n\r\nThe interior of the house was--dimensionless.\r\n\r\nFor a moment Saxon thought he was still outside. A silver brook tinkled\r\nthrough the mossy carpet that was the floor. The south wall was a\r\ngolden vista of ripe wheat rippling in the warm breeze that ruffled his\r\nhair. Birds twittered in the sun-flecked foliage overhead.\r\n\r\n"Nice house," Saxon said numbly.\r\n\r\nLang\'s smile was different. "A bit pretentious, I\'m afraid. Grandfather\r\nbuilt it right after the landing. We\'ve been too lazy to do much\r\nremodeling. A remarkable man, Grandfather."\r\n\r\nThat explained it, Saxon thought in relief. One titan in an infant\r\ncolony, warping it into a Utopian mold, passing on the heritage of his\r\ngenius. How long, he wondered coldly, before they built starships and\r\nreturned to demolish the Earth which had exiled them?\r\n\r\n"It must be wonderful to be a rover," Veena said wistfully. "Lang, can\r\nI go with him when he leaves?"\r\n\r\n"You haven\'t completed Basic Ecology. Mentor\'s waiting for your\r\nafternoon session."\r\n\r\nVeena pouted and went outside to her robot. Lang grinned. "The\r\nprecocious brat\'s beginning to ask him questions he can\'t answer. Soon\r\nI\'ll have to install a few more circuits."\r\n\r\nSaxon shivered. _Regardless of scientific attainment, any culture is\r\nvulnerable to inhibition._\r\n\r\nSo said his agent\'s handbook.\r\n\r\nLater he met Veena\'s mother, Merl, a handsome woman with calm gray\r\neyes who served them dinner by firelight. It was a good dinner.\r\nThese colonists seemed like good people. A shame they qualified for\r\ninhibition.\r\n\r\nGently, Saxon began to probe.\r\n\r\nIn only six generations the colonists has scattered throughout the\r\nentire hemisphere. Although the matrix of their culture seemed to be\r\nthe individual family unit, they lived according to whim. Some lived\r\nin small communal groups. Some lived alone. Some, by choice, were\r\nwanderers, rovers. They had science. Their philosophy seemed nebulous,\r\nbased on a benevolent ecology, brotherhood with all living things.\r\n\r\nSaxon frowned.\r\n\r\nSix generations ago, the ecology on this world hardly had been\r\nbenevolent for man. This area of the continent had been a steaming\r\nmarsh, swarming with hungry saurians. Now it was all meadow and forest.\r\n\r\nSaxon said thoughtfully, "Have you ever felt the need for organization?\r\nFor a leader?"\r\n\r\nHe leaned back and waited for the seed to sprout. Two years ago on Eden\r\nVIII, near Rigel, he had said the same thing to a sixth-generation\r\nshaman, and it took scarcely a month for the shaman to start an\r\nintra-tribal war.\r\n\r\nBut now the seed fell on sterile ground. Lang said, "I don\'t\r\nunderstand. Any problem which cannot be solved at family level is\r\nreferred to the annual council."\r\n\r\n"A leader." Saxon was patient. "One strong man to represent everybody.\r\nTo settle all problems as he sees fit?"\r\n\r\n"Remember, Father?" Veena prodded. "Those arboreal cannibals\r\nGrandfather used to mention? They had a nomadic tribal culture based on\r\nbrute strength."\r\n\r\nLang nodded somberly. "Good analogy. The most favorable extrapolation\r\nindicated a racial life expectancy of only ten thousand years. Their\r\nemotional stability index was nil, they would eventually have destroyed\r\nthemselves. The first generation decided it would be more merciful to\r\nexterminate them. An unwise decision, I think."\r\n\r\nHe launched into a spirited ethnological discussion with Veena, and\r\nSaxon sat, numbly.\r\n\r\nThey had no emotional insecurity to feed, no power-hunger. No herd\r\ninstinct to pervert, nothing to utilize as destruction potential.\r\n\r\nNo cultural weakness.\r\n\r\nThe room they gave him was small and comfortable. For a time he lay on\r\nthe sleeping hammock, considering the situation. He was beginning to\r\nlike them. That in itself, was dangerous.\r\n\r\nThe house was very still.\r\n\r\nHe got quietly out of the hammock and crept towards the door. He had to\r\nget back to the lifeboat, to feed facts into the monitor.\r\n\r\nOne thing disturbed him.\r\n\r\nAccording to his agent\'s handbook, family-group anarchies didn\'t need\r\ninhibition.\r\n\r\nHe was halfway across the plowed field when Mentor\'s iron voice said,\r\n"Good evening."\r\n\r\nMoonfire glimmered on metal. The robot stood impassively before him.\r\nSaxon said slowly, "I was just going for a walk."\r\n\r\n"You are our guest: I shall walk with you."\r\n\r\n"I prefer to walk alone."\r\n\r\n"Guests prefer company. The house of Lang must observe the basic\r\namenities."\r\n\r\nWas there a hint of sardonicism in Mentor\'s voice?\r\n\r\nThey walked along the furrows, man and robot. Saxon felt beneath his\r\nshirt for the utility kit. He kept his voice level.\r\n\r\n"Am I a prisoner?"\r\n\r\n"You are a guest."\r\n\r\n"Did Veena tell you I might try to escape?"\r\n\r\nA pause, while relays clicked silently.\r\n\r\n"That is classified information."\r\n\r\nSaxon\'s fingers were steady as they touched his tiny blaster.\r\nBenevolent anarchy indeed! He said carefully, "Do the colonists resent\r\ntheir exile?"\r\n\r\nAnother pause. Mentor\'s voice was a flat drone. "The concept is\r\nmeaningless, the question invalid."\r\n\r\n_Like hell it is_, thought Saxon, and fired.\r\n\r\nA cold blue wash of energy illuminated the robot. For a moment Saxon\r\nwas blinded. When vision returned he saw Mentor standing immobile,\r\nunscathed.\r\n\r\n"Please go back to bed," the robot said.\r\n\r\nSaxon went back to bed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nNext morning Veena brought him breakfast. She seemed sad, withdrawn.\r\n"Lang and Merl went to visit Aunt Tarsi. She lives near the Equator.\r\nThey won\'t be back till evening."\r\n\r\n"How" Saxon had trouble breathing. "How did they go?"\r\n\r\n"By transmitter, of course." She indicated a large shimmering platform\r\nin one corner. "Oh, I\'m sorry. I forgot rovers hate the mention of any\r\ntype of gadgetry." Her eyes grew impossibly earnest. "But we try to\r\nachieve some kind of balance, really. Once when I suggested that Father\r\nlet Mentor help him plow the fields, he got furious."\r\n\r\nSaxon restrained wild laughter. First the robot, invulnerable to atomic\r\nenergy, now a matter transmitter.\r\n\r\nYet they plowed their own fields.\r\n\r\n"Veena," he said.\r\n\r\nShe looked up at him.\r\n\r\n"Why did you tell Mentor to keep me here?"\r\n\r\nShe bowed her bright head. Her blue eyes were brimming.\r\n\r\n"Why, Veena?"\r\n\r\n"Because I like you," she sniffled. "I wanted you to s-stay." Abruptly\r\nshe fled from the room.\r\n\r\nHe stood bleakly looking after her. After a time he went outside and\r\nstruck across the field towards the forest.\r\n\r\nThis time the robot did not stop him.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n_Do not allow the emotional charm of any culture, nor any individual of\r\nthat culture, to sway your inhibition appraisal._\r\n\r\nIn the narrow confines of the lifeboat he repeated the quotation\r\ngrimly. Good inhibition agents are inflexible. He was a good agent.\r\n\r\nFor almost an hour he fed data into the monitor tapes. Then he touched\r\na stud and closed his eyes, waiting for judgment.\r\n\r\n"Agricultural family-group societies are normally stagnant," the\r\nmonitor droned. "Such cultures, regardless of technological level, do\r\nnot warrent inhibition of any type. Reference: twelfth generation check\r\non Eden V."\r\n\r\nThe room spun. Saxon whispered, "But they have cybernetics, matter\r\ntransmitters."\r\n\r\n"Regardless of technological level." The monitor was adamant.\r\n\r\nThis was madness. Saxon wiped his forehead and said, "Assuming\r\ngeographical isolation no barrier to united group action in the event\r\nof emergency."\r\n\r\n"United action is incompatible with family-group."\r\n\r\n"Assume and advise!"\r\n\r\nRelays chattered. Abruptly the entire panel flashed crimson. The\r\nmonitor spoke one word.\r\n\r\n"_Annihilation._"\r\n\r\nSaxon referred to his Inhibition handbook. He had never annihilated a\r\nculture before.\r\n\r\nOne hour later he went into the forest. Birds sang overhead. The sun\r\ndappled him in light and shadow. He stalked a small furry quadruped\r\nthat squealed at him from a log and brought it down with his sonic\r\npistol.\r\n\r\nBack in the lifeboat he watched the animal regain consciousness in an\r\nair-tight tank, and very slowly he pulled a lever. A green vapor rolled\r\ninto the tank. The quadruped screamed. The green vapor fed.\r\n\r\nIt was the penultimate in sporedom, yet it was more than a spore.\r\nIt had virus characteristics, and its propagation rate was almost\r\nmathematically impossible. There was no known defense, and once used,\r\nthe entire planet was forever untouchable. To Saxon\'s knowledge it had\r\nbeen utilized only once on Eden I.\r\n\r\nAt dusk, he took the lifeboat up fifty miles. He released the spores\r\nin a widening spiral, and finally jettisoned the tank. He went into an\r\norbit at ten thousand miles, and waited.\r\n\r\nIt would take approximately a week.\r\n\r\nIt was a long week. Saxon slept little. He paced the cabin. He looked\r\nat the stars and thought about a blue-eyed waif with tears in her\r\nvoice, begging him to stay.\r\n\r\nAfter a week the lifeboat came down at the edge of a grassy plain.\r\nSaxon took a sample of the contaminated atmosphere to determine\r\npropagation rate.\r\n\r\nThe atmosphere was pure.\r\n\r\nSome freak of expansion. One uncontaminated spot in a hemisphere of\r\ndeath.\r\n\r\nHe selected another location. Then another. That evening he close the\r\ncoordinates of his original landing site and tested the air again.\r\n\r\nFinally he went outside the airlock. He breathed deeply, and the air\r\nwas fresh and sweet, it smelled of forest and cool streams and evening\r\ndew. In the blue dusk birds twittered. A small marsupial very much like\r\na squirrel scampered to the safety of a tree and scolded him.\r\n\r\nSaxon began walking.\r\n\r\nAt the edge of the forest he saw the familiar plowed field. The\r\nfarmhouse was a friendly beacon in the twilight.\r\n\r\n"Hello," Veena said. She stood at the edge of the forest. She was\r\nsmiling. "Welcome home, rover."\r\n\r\nFor the next few days Saxon was the perfect guest. He argued\r\nphilosophical abstractions with the family by firelight; by day he\r\nhiked in the woods with Veena and listened to Mentor give her lessons.\r\nHe asked questions.\r\n\r\n"Veena, do you know what a microorganism is?"\r\n\r\n"Benevolent or malignant?"\r\n\r\n"Malignant. A plague."\r\n\r\nShe pursed her lips. "Organic or cultural?"\r\n\r\n"Organic of course."\r\n\r\n"Bacteria." Veena shrugged. "Quite a few of the first generation\r\ndied immediately after the landing. Until they adapted. Until they\r\nanalyzed the basic metabolism of the planet\'s dominant life-forms, and\r\nconstructed a neutralizer."\r\n\r\n"A neutralizer?"\r\n\r\n"A protective shell of ionized particles," she said patiently, "keyed\r\nto the individual body-chemistry."\r\n\r\n"Classified information," Mentor droned.\r\n\r\nSaxon licked his lips. "You mentioned cultural microorganisms?"\r\n\r\n"Much more deadly. I call them that, but Lang says I\'m being\r\nsemantically unsound. War, for example. Racial inferiority. To date we\r\nhaven\'t found a cure." She broke off, and her eyes were shining wet.\r\n\r\n"But you don\'t have wars," Saxon said.\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"Then?"\r\n\r\n"We have a--ghetto," the girl said slowly. "I can\'t tell you about it.\r\nPerhaps soon--"\r\n\r\nAbruptly she changed the subject.\r\n\r\nSlowly, Saxon\'s defenses began to crumble.\r\n\r\nTo all intents he was now a member of Lang\'s household, Veena\'s adopted\r\nbig brother.\r\n\r\nBig brother--or pet?\r\n\r\nIt did not really matter.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOn the fourth day he went back to the lifeboat. He remembered his\r\ngraduation day, the crash of the Corps anthem, and the pledge. _I do\r\nfaithfully swear to uphold the ideals of Man, to use this vested power\r\nfor the absolute good of Earth. I will not shrink from any cup of duty,\r\nregardless of how bitter. I will guard stasis with my life, and the\r\nlives of innocent people if need be, people whose only crime may be\r\nthat they are potential threats to stasis--_\r\n\r\nHe tinkered with the ship\'s reactor for an hour. Then he ran.\r\n\r\nBehind him the lifeboat dissolved in a white blossom of flame.\r\n\r\nFarewell the cold stars and the ache and the loneliness. Farewell the\r\ndestruction of newborn colonies to secure the rotting stagnancy of\r\nEarth.\r\n\r\nHe would have a great many bad nights, but he was used to bad nights.\r\nHe thought of Veena and his stride quickened. She would be a beautiful\r\nwoman.\r\n\r\nThey were waiting for him back at the farmhouse, Lang, Veena and Merl.\r\nThey were staring at the dark pyre of smoke in the forest. Saxon took a\r\ndeep breath and squared his shoulders. "I\'ve got a confession to make--"\r\n\r\nThey weren\'t listening. Lang said quietly, "You were right, Veena. He\r\nmay qualify."\r\n\r\n"Come." Merl took her husband\'s arm. "Let\'s call the Council."\r\n\r\nThey went inside. Saxon looked at Veena. He moistened his lips. "You\r\nknew," he said.\r\n\r\nShe nodded. There was a queer adult maturity about her as she said,\r\n"Wait. They\'re calling an emergency Council meeting to decide if you\'re\r\nfit."\r\n\r\n"Fit," Saxon said. Coldly, it seeped in. To survive? To be a playmate,\r\na slave? "It\'s been a game," he said, grasping her shoulders. "You\'ve\r\nknown all along."\r\n\r\n"They\'re taking the transmitter to the Landing Site now," she said.\r\n"Would you like to watch?"\r\n\r\nWatch judgment of the outcasts on one of those who had marooned them?\r\nWhy not?\r\n\r\nLang and Merl were no longer in the house. Veena touched a silver stud\r\nin one corner, and one side of the room dissolved from a vista of\r\ngolden wheat to a grassy amphitheatre. There were people assembled in\r\nthe clearing. Lang and Merl stood on a mossy dais, making a speech.\r\n\r\nHe saw the ship.\r\n\r\nIt was a giant silver ovoid, fretted with strange vanes, pockmarked by\r\nthe red cancer of rust. Towering forest patriarchs guarded that ship\r\nlike a woodland shrine. A ship that had never been born on Earth. An\r\nalien ship.\r\n\r\nUnderstanding came, and a quiet horror.\r\n\r\nHe lurched away from the screen, away from Veena. He was outside now,\r\nand running. He was a good Inhibition agent, he had been conditioned\r\nto the shock of alien concepts for half his lifetime, but the ground\r\nreeled beneath him as he ran and he could feel the hot trickle of blood\r\nwhere he had bitten through his lip to keep from screaming.\r\n\r\nAliens.\r\n\r\nFrom _outside_.\r\n\r\nHomo Superior, treating his ape-brother with an hospitable contempt.\r\nPlaying their inscrutable game.\r\n\r\nThe lifeboat came down almost in front of him.\r\n\r\nIt came down with a whining snarl and settled into the plowed field.\r\nThe airlock opened. Primus Gant stepped out. His blue eyes were very\r\ncold and he was smiling.\r\n\r\n"Report, Commander."\r\n\r\nYears of conditioned reflex brought him erect, made him whisper,\r\n"Mission unsuccessful." He swayed, almost fell. Gant held him.\r\n\r\n"Easy, lad. We got the blowup a few minutes ago. It took us awhile to\r\nhome in on the distress transmitter in your utility kit." He chuckled\r\nat Saxon\'s blank stare. "Whenever an agent\'s ship is destroyed his\r\nutility belt automatically functions as a distress signal."\r\n\r\nSaxon shook his head painfully. "You\'ve been waiting?"\r\n\r\n"We started ten days ago when your monitor gave out with the\r\nannihilation alarm." He eyed Saxon keenly. "Just how bad is it?"\r\n\r\nSaxon told him. Gant\'s face turned a dirty white.\r\n\r\n"Aliens," he said thickly. "They probably murdered the original colony.\r\nYou\'ve come through nicely, lad. It may mean promotion." He turned into\r\nthe ship. "Come on."\r\n\r\n"Wait." Saxon\'s voice was a dry whisper. "You\'re not going to--"\r\n\r\n"Demolition," Gant said. "I\'ve got a task force up there that can crack\r\na planet. Let\'s go, Commander."\r\n\r\n_I will not shrink from any cup of duty--_\r\n\r\n"Please," Saxon said huskily. "I don\'t believe they\'re inimical to Man.\r\nThey\'re altruists."\r\n\r\n"So?"\r\n\r\n"They\'re benevolent," Saxon pleaded. "Both races can live together!"\r\n\r\n"Don\'t be a fool," Gant grunted, and turned into the airlock.\r\n\r\nSaxon leapt.\r\n\r\nOne palm came down hard at the base of the Director\'s skull.\r\n\r\nAnd Gant twisted. He palmed the younger man with two deft blows, throat\r\nand plexus. Saxon slumped, retching. Gant stood above him, his smile\r\nstrained.\r\n\r\n"Amateur," he panted. "I was instructing hand tactics before you\r\nwere born." He took out his blaster. "They\'ve infected you," he said\r\ncompassionately. "I\'m sorry, lad. You\'ll get a posthumous decoration."\r\n\r\nThe blaster came up, steadied. Then Gant stood very still, a\r\nwhite-haired statue.\r\n\r\nMentor came around the ship and helped Saxon to his feet.\r\n\r\n"Destroying guests is forbidden," the robot clicked. "The concept is\r\nirrational."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nLater, in the shadows of the farmhouse that was not a farmhouse, Saxon\r\nwatched the scout disappear into the sky. He turned towards Veena.\r\n"You\'re letting him go?"\r\n\r\n"Mentor--treated him," she said dreamily. "He\'ll report that you\r\ndestroyed the colony, died in the process, and this planet is unfit\r\nfor further colonization. Incidentally, the council voted in the\r\naffirmative. Otherwise you\'d be with Gant."\r\n\r\nAliens, playing a game with their ape-brother. Recognizing him at first\r\nglance, speaking his language, making him feel wanted, at home.\r\n\r\n_Why?_\r\n\r\nHe was afraid to ask the question.\r\n\r\n"We\'re on a vacation," Veena said. "We\'ve only been here for one\r\ngeneration. We were due to return almost thirty years ago, but we found\r\nyour colony."\r\n\r\n"Did you--"\r\n\r\n"Isolation," she murmured. "The ghetto. They\'re sick," she said.\r\n"Infected with the culture plague. We couldn\'t leave them and we\r\ncouldn\'t help them." Her gaze was very steady. "Until you came."\r\n\r\nIt came to him. Man, clutching at the knees of Gods, envying, striving\r\nfutilely, finally hating.\r\n\r\nOnly Man can help Man.\r\n\r\n"It\'s not fair," Saxon breathed. He took Veena by the shoulders,\r\nmade her look at him. "I\'m happy here. You and Lang--Merl--I\'m just\r\nbeginning to learn! I\'d hoped that in a few years--"\r\n\r\n"We are not human," Veena said gently. "And our life span is four\r\nhundred of your years."\r\n\r\nFor the first time, he noticed the faint malformation of her ears, the\r\nsubtle differences in facial bone structure. He glanced past her, saw\r\nLang and Merl waiting in the doorway.\r\n\r\n"It will mean months of study," she said. "You have so much to unlearn,\r\nto understand. They may reject you, sacrifice you. That will not\r\nmatter. What does matter is your impact on their culture, what it will\r\nmean a thousand generations hence."\r\n\r\n_Diseased apes, with a touch of Godhood, suffering from an infection\r\nthat might be forever incurable. Why should he be the sacrifice? Who\r\nwas he, to help them?_\r\n\r\nLooking at Veena, he knew the answer.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n \r\n *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INHIBITION ***\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one\xe2\x80\x94the old editions will\r\nbe renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\r\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\r\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\r\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\r\nroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part\r\nof this license, apply to copying and distributing Project\r\nGutenberg\xe2\x84\xa2 electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG\xe2\x84\xa2\r\nconcept and trademark. 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'Get Out of My Body!'

'Harris, Tom W.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of Get Out of My Body!\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: Get Out of My Body!\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Tom W. Harris\r\n\r\nRelease date: April 27, 2021 [eBook #65176]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GET OUT OF MY BODY! ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Consider an alien infiltrating our\r\n world--impossible to catch because\r\n he might inhabit any person--even\r\n you! You\'d likely start screaming--\r\n\r\n GET OUT OF MY BODY!\r\n\r\n By Tom W. Harris\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n February 1958\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\n"I have come to discuss a very grave problem," said the\r\ntalking-attendant.\r\n\r\n"Then let\'s get down to details," said Chester Forge. "It\'s urgent you\r\nsaid."\r\n\r\nInterviews with Ravians always made Chester nervous. They wouldn\'t use\r\nthe psi-control voice sets, and there was something uncanny in talking\r\nto a human, a talking-attendant, when you knew it wasn\'t the man\r\nspeaking at all, but the alien intelligence he was temporarily host to.\r\n\r\nIt was even more unsettling when the Ravian was a high official,\r\nas at present. Their minds were even more coldly intellectual, dry\r\nand logical than the usual Ravian tourist\'s. And they could make a\r\nlot of trouble. Chester\'s job as tour-chief here at Knoxville--more\r\nspecifically, Port Knoxville, where the ships came in--was to keep the\r\ntourists happy as possible. No, not happy. Happiness is an emotion.\r\nSatisfied maybe.\r\n\r\n"There are scant useful details I can give you," said Monnn, the\r\nRavian, through the lips of the talking-attendant. "There was a\r\nstowaway on the sightseeing ship that came in this morning--one of our\r\npeople. He is a fugitive. He has left the ship and is here on earth\r\nsomewhere, perhaps in Knoxville. He must be captured."\r\n\r\nChester Forge was jolted, but he had found you got on better with\r\nRavians if you never showed feelings. He made his voice calm.\r\n\r\n"A fugitive, hmmm? What was his crime?"\r\n\r\n"The question is immaterial," said Monnn. "So typical of your people.\r\nBut I suppose you will function better if not bothered by curiosity.\r\nMinnn, the stowaway, told a lie."\r\n\r\n"A lie?"\r\n\r\n"The worst of crimes. Minnn was a politician, campaigning for office,\r\nand he lied in making a promise he could not execute."\r\n\r\nBy Joe, thought Chester, now I\'ve heard them all. Well, the rule is you\r\nnever, never question the tastes of an alien. The Martians have a mad\r\npassion for hop-toads, the Zarlos like to have things hurt them, the\r\nFrin talk all the time and the Rorn don\'t talk at all, and--\r\n\r\n"We\'ll get him for you," said Chester more firmly than he felt.\r\n\r\n"We feel you may fail," said the Ravian. "We ask permission to send our\r\nown searchers, no quota on numbers, open-area travel permission."\r\n\r\nChester went white. "I\'m afraid we can\'t grant that. I promise we\'ll\r\nget him for you."\r\n\r\n"Why can you not grant that?"\r\n\r\n"Well--population. There aren\'t enough volunteers to host any more than\r\nthe present quota, and of course you can\'t get around without hosts."\r\n\r\n"How human," said Monnn through the attendant. "You are afraid of us.\r\nYet you know we have no desire at all for this planet, and that we know\r\nyou know this.\r\n\r\n"Why do you lie? On our planet you would be treated as Minnn will\r\nbe--your personality dismembered, the useful parts assigned to another,\r\nthe imperfect disposed of."\r\n\r\n"Be that as it may," said Chester, a chill in his spine. "We will find\r\nthis fugitive ourselves."\r\n\r\n"Of course. And if you do not, within two of your days, we must come\r\nto search ourselves. One more thing--Minnn may turn killer. And now I\r\nshall retire--manipulating this organism is most fatiguing."\r\n\r\nThe talking-attendant stood blank-faced for a moment as the Ravian\r\nwithdrew to some nook of his mentality. Then he blinked and peered\r\naround, discovered he was in Forge\'s office, and saluted.\r\n\r\n"That\'s okay, John," said Chester. "Thanks. Take him back to his husk."\r\n\r\nThe attendant left and Chester picked up his visor, punching the button\r\nfor Security Chief....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nOn Clinch Street, little Sally Odum was walking home from school. She\r\nturned down an alley for a shortcut, and there she saw the toy. It\r\nwas a black, fringed globe, a little larger than a grapefruit. "Gee!"\r\nexclaimed Sally, and reached out and grabbed it.\r\n\r\nThe globe changed from black to gray, from shiny to dull, and from firm\r\nto flaccid. Sally felt a little tingle in her fingertips, a tiny tug\r\nin her mind. Looking thoughtful, she slipped the limp toy under her\r\njacket. She trotted home, hid the thing at the bottom of her toy box,\r\nand promptly forgot about ever finding it.\r\n\r\nMinnn, exhausted from the psionic strain of rolling his body through\r\nthe thick earth air all the way from the port to the city, and then\r\ndirecting the feeling and movement of Sally, made one little adjustment\r\nin her memory, then turned off his awareness and rested. In the rich\r\nrush of mental currents he would soon be replenished. In the meantime\r\nhe was safe....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe Ravian had given Chester Forge two days to find Minnn. A day had\r\npassed and nothing had happened. He had kept things quiet, up to now.\r\nThere was no indication his quiet search would produce anything. It was\r\ntime for a different tactic....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nSally Odum\'s father looked up from the news-sheets that had just come\r\noff the clicker. "Mary, did you see these items about the Ravian loose\r\nin the city?"\r\n\r\nHis wife was playing chack with Sally. The child had beaten her four\r\ngames running, and Mary was just beginning to wonder if she was mother\r\nto a genius. A mother does not appreciate interruption of such\r\nmusings. "Ah--no," she answered absently. "What about um?"\r\n\r\n"Seems this bird--Minnn\'s his tag--is thought to be hiding out in some\r\nhuman around town. He forced."\r\n\r\nMary was more interested. "Isn\'t forcing against galactic convention?"\r\n\r\n"Darn right. This guy\'s a fugitive, like I said."\r\n\r\n"I knew they\'d get in trouble, letting these foreigners come down."\r\n\r\n"Look, honey. One thing, we need the trade. A Ravian pays four picks of\r\nplainum for a day or two in a human. It\'s all here in the news-sheet.\r\nA Ravian hasn\'t got emotions, and when they\'re in a host they can feel\r\neverything the host feels. Real Kicks. The host gets to spend one pick\r\nhimself--a small fortune--he has a shivaree and the Ravian goes for the\r\nride. And for the host it\'s all voluntary."\r\n\r\n"What about this Minnn?"\r\n\r\nSally listened with bright attention, slightly flushed.\r\n\r\n"It says here he could be anywhere, any man, woman or child. Tells how\r\nyou can spot \'em and names a reward. Person with old Minnn inside is a\r\nlittle flushed, feverish, doesn\'t sleep very well. They...."\r\n\r\n"Say, honey, Sally didn\'t sleep well last night. Do you think she\'s all\r\nright?"\r\n\r\n"Any kid has a restless night sometimes, Mary. Lemme finish. The person\r\nis apt to be kind of listless, and might have memory blanks. Oh--and\r\nthe Ravian enters a host by some kind of physical contact, and he can\r\nget to another host only by a contact with the first one."\r\n\r\n"Maybe we ought to take Sally to Dr. Price, hon. She just hasn\'t been\r\nherself lately."\r\n\r\n"Oh well," sighed Odum, and threw down the clicker-story. "Tell you\r\nwhat. All you do is visor security, tell them you\'re pretty sure a\r\nperson has this Ravian, and the person gets a real good physical--free.\r\nLet\'s just tell them Sal has the symptoms and get a deal."\r\n\r\nSally got up listlessly and the screen banged as she wandered out.\r\n\r\n"What symptoms?" asked Mary.\r\n\r\n"You mean you weren\'t listening?" And Mr. Odum told Mrs. Odum all the\r\nsigns the article had listed, while Mrs. Odum gradually paled.\r\n\r\n"But--those are exactly the symptoms she does have," she said when he\r\nfinished. Their eyes met and he reached for the visor.\r\n\r\nThe security cops arrived. Chester was with them. As they boiled\r\nfrom their \'copter they nearly knocked over an old gentleman who was\r\ncreaking his way delicately along the sidewalk, and one cop stepped on\r\na small dog, which bit him.\r\n\r\nTwo of them stayed with Sally, who stood in the yard with a scared\r\nexpression; two others entered the house with Chester. They all came\r\nout of the house and Mary explained to Sally that she was not to be\r\nfrightened. Sally was given a nice raincoat with built-in mittens--it\r\nwas triple-ply mento-insulation plastic--and everybody bundled into the\r\n\'copter.\r\n\r\nSally liked the ride and the raincoat, but when it was all over she was\r\nsad. Mr. Forge seemed disappointed somehow....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nMinnn lay quiet in his new host soaking in data. Perfesser Frye ...\r\nold ... quiet, jogging complex of contentment, and dissatisfaction.\r\nCheated on price of eggs ... nice house over there, awful the way\r\nthey\'ve changed things ... little girl, patted her on the head, might\r\nhave had a child like that. Enjoy what you can. Glow-thought connected\r\nwith something called beer.\r\n\r\nMinnn was shocked to find that, almost the opposite of Sally,\r\nPerfesser Frye was a complete liar. He was not a professor, and the\r\nknowledge he impressed people with was mostly a collection of long,\r\nmispronounced words and memorized facts of which the Perfesser did\r\nnot know the meaning. His landlady believed he was coming into an\r\nimmense inheritance based on platinum on Vega, and she allowed him\r\na familiarity which Minnn found amusing and which included rent\r\nexemption. The man was a collection of lies. Even his rheumatism was\r\nnot genuine, but psychosomatic.\r\n\r\nThat evening the Perfesser had the unpleasant experience of seeing\r\nhis own face on the landlady\'s show-visor set, with the information\r\nthat there was a price on his head. This was the last he remembered\r\nfor some time, although to the landlady he appeared to retain full\r\nconsciousness. He leaped to his feet most unrheumatically, tied her\r\nup, bashed in the visor, and pattered out into the streets, which were\r\ndeserted.\r\n\r\nThe Perfesser had good eyes for distance use, Minnn found. He swung\r\nthe Perfesser\'s hook-beaked head about searchingly. At the end of the\r\nstreet men were coming, in mento-insulation. Minnn swung the lanky\r\nframe about, almost capsizing it, and sprinted long-leggedly in the\r\nopposite direction.\r\n\r\nIn a few blocks the heart was pounding and the face was hot and the\r\nlungs could not suck enough oxygen. The Perfesser was not feeling\r\nanything consciously, but his parasympathetic nervous system was giving\r\nMinnn the horrors.\r\n\r\nThe cops could not be seen. Minnn withdrew to rest. The Perfesser came\r\nto an abrupt halt, and gazed about him glassily. He remembered the\r\nnightmarish moment watching the visor; now he found himself in the\r\nstreet panting like a horse and raining sweat. He stood getting his\r\nbreath and trying to think, then moved off purposefully....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nChester\'s eyes felt like they would drop out on his desk at any moment.\r\nHe had had no sleep. He was entertaining a plan to visit the Ravians,\r\nin disguise, as a tourist, and make things miserable for _them_, when\r\ntwo buzzers rang at once.\r\n\r\nHe answered his chief\'s buzzer first. Had Minnn been caught? No? Well,\r\nthe governor had called and the heat was on. The chief was forced to\r\ngive Forge a choice of producing Minnn in 24 hours or being sent as\r\nsupercargo to the Mars-deserts. That was all.\r\n\r\nThe second buzzer was Monnn, speaking through "a talking-attendant."\r\n\r\n"Your two days are up this evening," said the Ravian. "Any progress?"\r\n\r\n"We ought to have him any time now."\r\n\r\n"Nonsense. Minnn had been in that young girl--I could tell, when she\r\nwas here."\r\n\r\nForge got little pleasure from his reply. "I know that. We\'re after the\r\nman Minnn moved to."\r\n\r\nMonnn was unperturbed. "Good. You have about an hour."\r\n\r\n"One thing," said Chester. "You say Minnn might kill. Any special way\r\nhe\'d go about it?"\r\n\r\n"How should I know?" asked Monnn. "Minnn is an outlaw, under pursuit\r\nand away from his planet. On our planet there are no killings." And he\r\nhung up....\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThe Perfesser, umbrella under his arm, black serge suit dusty, walked\r\ndown a long alley and into Steve\'s Beer Bar. Beer, he always figured,\r\nwas a real help when you were perplexed.\r\n\r\nMinnn witnessed this logic with disgust. The Perfesser\'s memory-units\r\nshowed the beer just made him more perplexed. But Minnn was resting in\r\nwitness-state, very tired from making the Perfesser do all that running.\r\n\r\nThe Perfesser hooked his umbrella over the bar and was waited upon by\r\nSteve himself. "You look kinda bushed," said Steve respectfully.\r\n\r\n"A man my age must watch himself, Steve. Especially when he is\r\nenervated by the hardihoods of lifetime scholarship."\r\n\r\n"Rough," said Steve admiringly. He didn\'t know what the language meant\r\nbut it sounded gorgeous.\r\n\r\nThe Perfesser turned to a pushed-down man beside him at the bar. "You\r\nwould hardly believe, friend, what has just happened to me. One moment\r\nI was watching a home-visor-view--and the next I was standing in the\r\nstreet. I can scarcely credit this phenomenon."\r\n\r\n"Funny things happen," said the pushed-down man. "I drive a laundry\r\ntruck, and one stop is out to the national asylum. They got people out\r\nthere what don\'t know where they even came from, too."\r\n\r\n"You sure this really happened, Perfesser?" said Steve. "I mean--you\r\nwouldn\'t make it up or nothing." The Perfesser had drunk only one "fish\r\nbowl" of beer--it was a little early for his star-spangled lying.\r\n\r\n"I can aver it happened," said the Perfesser stiffly. "A phenomena of\r\npsychic rarity--similar things have occurred to intellectual persons at\r\nvarious points in history."\r\n\r\nMinnn was not enjoying himself. Humans were fun when they were having\r\nfun, but other moods were unendurable. Coupled with illogic it was\r\nworse. Minnn was considering shifting to the truck driver when the man\r\nsuddenly arose. "Well, night, Steve, Perfesser--I gotta get the sheets\r\na-rolling," said the man, and vanished out the back door.\r\n\r\nIt was seconds later that two policemen burst in the front door\r\nand headed straight for the Perfesser. Minnn acted instantly. The\r\nPerfesser\'s awareness was clamped out and the creaking frame was sent\r\nspeeding to the back door.\r\n\r\nDown the alley the laundry truck was starting, and the Perfesser\'s\r\nvoice sailed after it, "Wait, fellow. Hold on!"\r\n\r\nThe truck slowed and the wizened face of the driver peered back just in\r\ntime to see the police burst into the alley and open fire. The face was\r\nwithdrawn instantly and the truck gained speed.\r\n\r\nThe Perfesser ran after it, shouting until his breath gave out. There\r\nwas junk in the alley and it was crisscrossed by other alleys with\r\ntraffic on them and the driver dared not approach top speed. The cops\r\nshot twice again at the Perfesser, who was running like an antelope.\r\n\r\nMinnn felt a crash in the Perfesser\'s shoulder and the tall body\r\nswayed. A bit of lead had entered the clavicle. Minnn strained and\r\nthe ends of the veins constricted, slowing the loss of blood. The\r\nPerfesser\'s heart and lungs were behaving alarmingly but Minnn kept the\r\nbody running. He was gaining on the truck.\r\n\r\nThe truck gained speed and so did the Perfesser. Ancient arteries,\r\nbrittled with deposits, strained and began to give. The Perfesser\'s\r\narm raised as he drew alongside the truck. The umbrella-tip neared the\r\ndriver.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nA bullet grazed the Perfesser\'s side--Minnn suddenly realized they were\r\nnot shooting to kill: and also the shaky frame he had taken would not\r\nbe able to run much longer. With a surge of concentration he pushed the\r\nbody forward. The umbrella-tip touched the driver, Minnn drove himself\r\ndown the metal ferrule, somewhere an artery burst, and the body of the\r\nPerfesser sagged, wobbled, and, still carried forward by momentum,\r\nsmashed into a wall and toppled over. It lay there on its back. Being\r\nfront-man for a Ravian had been Perfesser Frye\'s last falsehood.\r\n\r\nThe truck got out of the alley, going fast, and kept going fast until\r\nit came to the asylum. The driver did not go to the back door--there\r\nmight be people waiting for him. He walked in the front door, up to the\r\nreceptionist, and touched her. Then he discovered himself standing\r\nthere, and walked embarrassedly out again.\r\n\r\nThe receptionist remained at her desk. A visitor was moving toward her;\r\nas he passed, the receptionist touched his hand.\r\n\r\nDown a hallway opening into the reception room came a little group of\r\nmen--three attendants from the hospital and the hospital director; a\r\ntalking-attendant and Chester Forge, and the truck driver. All were\r\ngloved and clad in mento-insulation but the talking-attendant.\r\n\r\n"I was standing right here," said the driver excitedly. "Right here in\r\nfront of this desk."\r\n\r\nThe talking-attendant rested his hand on the receptionist\'s forehead.\r\n"Not there now," he declared.\r\n\r\n"Have any of you seen anyone near this desk?" called the director to\r\nthe room at large. A woman pointed to the visitor the receptionist had\r\ntouched. "He was!"\r\n\r\nThe visitor began to run.\r\n\r\n"We\'ve got to get him before he gets into a patient!" yelled Chester.\r\n"In an unbalanced mind even Monnn can\'t find him! Get him."\r\n\r\nThey went plunging after the visitor.\r\n\r\nMinnn was pleased. He had a head start, and this human had good running\r\npotential. He would have fun. An interne stepped out of a door, the\r\nvisitor touched his hand, the interne stepped back through the door,\r\nrapidly. The searchers swirled down the hall and grabbed the visitor\r\nand Monnn made his test. "Not here now," he reported.\r\n\r\nThe interne strolled into an elevator, went up a story, walked quietly\r\ndown another corridor. Excitement was percolating through the place\r\nalmost as though the inmates breathed it. There were many inmates on\r\nthis floor; he could force into one almost at leisure.\r\n\r\nAnother elevator jarred to a stop, doors opened, and the searchers\r\nbolted out. Chester\'s face was like a purple plum, his eyes were red\r\nand wild. The long chase was teasingly close to ending, and could be\r\nfrustrated forever.\r\n\r\nThe interne turned and thumbed his nose at Forge, who gave a bellow\r\nof anger. As the men surged toward him, the attendant sprinted a few\r\nyards, reached out and touched a patient. The halls were full of them;\r\nattracted by the excitement. Unobtrusively the patient touched another,\r\nwho in turn touched another, who disappeared in the crowd.\r\n\r\n"Go back to your rooms," shouted the director of the hospital. "You are\r\nimpeding a hunt for a fugitive."\r\n\r\nBut the patients didn\'t see any fugitive, and they stayed, and more\r\nkept coming.\r\n\r\nThere was a disconcerting blur of thought-emotion in the patient Minnn\r\nwas using. The pursuers were the length of the hall away; he caused his\r\nhost to turn, shriek a bad word, and thumb her nose at them.\r\n\r\nThey came running, impeded by the crowd. The patient turned a corner,\r\ntouched another patient, who touched another.\r\n\r\nIt was quite an experience, Minnn decided. He had whirled through a\r\nrich kaleidoscope of minds and emotions; in one woman there had been a\r\nfountain of ecstacy he would have to go back and sample sometime. He\r\nhad come to the perfect place. Except as he chose to do it, to tease,\r\nthese inmates could not reveal him, and no Ravian could detect him. He\r\ncould stay here an indefinite length of time--wait them out--then go\r\nback to the toy chest where his husk lay--or trace Sally Odum\'s memory\r\nfor it in case she had moved it--and repossess himself.\r\n\r\nHe could learn to live on this planet--perhaps he could even get\r\ngovernmental sanctuary, though that was not essential. He would not be\r\nlonely. Ravians do not get lonely. They do, however, have a sense of\r\npower.\r\n\r\nBut the pursuers were coming down the hall, the Ravian in the\r\ntalking-attendant attempting to sort through the twisted minds, the\r\nperson from the tourist service almost out of his own mind. And though\r\nMinnn was having sport, he was a little tired. He turned the eyes of\r\nhis host toward the group of hunters, and saw that they had stopped\r\ncoming and stood talking. He walked his host to a window-bench, sat it\r\ndown, turned its mind toward slumber, and relaxed.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nChester had to have a plan, and, driven to unwonted efficiency by the\r\nthreat of bureaucratic disgrace and exile, his mind began to form one.\r\nThe plan was not without its dangers, especially to Chester, but it was\r\nthe only plan they had.\r\n\r\nPower was shut off to all elevators, and at the flip of a switch all\r\nthe doors on the group\'s floor were locked. "We\'ve got him penned on\r\nthis floor," said Chester. "I only hope he doesn\'t come across a mouse."\r\n\r\n"He\'s probably on this floor," corrected Monnn through the\r\ntalking-attendant. "And he\'ll _probably_ stay. Ravians have a slight\r\npsionic control, as you know, and it\'s barely possible Minnn could\r\nforce himself through a door-panel."\r\n\r\n"How about a wall?"\r\n\r\n"I doubt it."\r\n\r\n"What if there was nobody on the other side for him to force into?"\r\n\r\n"He would not last very long ... we would lose him. And that would go\r\nhard for you, Mr. Forge, because we do not want Minnn done away with,\r\nwe want him captured."\r\n\r\n"I don\'t need to be reminded," said Chester, mentally getting a\r\ntwo-handed hold on the always-be-polite-to-a-tourist rule. "And now\r\nlet\'s smoke him out."\r\n\r\nThe director and a helper lingered unobtrusively near a firehose;\r\nthe rest of the group strolled on down the hall. Minnn had rested\r\nand was alert again. Through his host-eyes he saw there were many\r\npatients milling about--there were so many ready refuges. It occurred\r\nto him that he had not particularly bedeviled his countryman, and he\r\ncaused his host to pick up a vase and hurl it at the head of Monnn\'s\r\ntalking-attendant.\r\n\r\nAlmost instantly a blast of chill water struck Minnn\'s host, knocking\r\nher sprawling. Minnn found her emotions most unpleasant. He took her\r\nmind fully, forcing her up from the floor, and a ram of water pounded\r\nher down again. Somebody was rounding up the other patients, pushing\r\nthem out of his reach. People were yelling, running.\r\n\r\nSomebody down the hall aimed a wide-nozzled gun at Minnn\'s host. There\r\nwas also the blat of an explosion and something hit his host in the\r\nchest. "What poor weapons," thought Minnn, and then the thing exploded.\r\nA thick gas swaddled the host-patient, Minnn felt the body sagging.\r\nThere was no time for him to weigh all factors for a really logical\r\ndecision, and he made a snap-judgment to leave this body before it lost\r\nconsciousness and sealed off his contact with his environment.\r\n\r\nA form was stumbling past, and Minnn reached his host\'s hand up and\r\ntouched it. In a flash he had entered. Almost instantaneously he\r\nrealized that this time it was different. The nervous system was alive\r\nwith wild, determined resistance.\r\n\r\nHis host was Chester Forge.\r\n\r\nChester reeled back from the gas-shrouded, drowsing inmate. The gas\r\nwould stay near her, held by the biostatic charge in all its particles.\r\nHe had to keep away from it; he needed all his consciousness for his\r\nbattle.\r\n\r\nHe would never be able to quite describe many of the things he felt\r\nduring the struggle he waged within his own organism like a civil war.\r\nMinnn had entered at his right wrist. Although Chester had mentally\r\nbraced, the alien had surged up his arm almost instantaneously, nearly\r\nto the shoulder. Chester called on his mind to hold Minnn there. He\r\nworked some part of his mind to hold Minnn there. He worked some part\r\nof his mind like a new muscle--one cannot explain how it is he works a\r\nmuscle, he just does it. Simultaneously Chester reeled down the hall\r\ntoward where Monnn, in the talking-attendant, stood by an open door.\r\nMonnn and the door were his two aces in the hole.\r\n\r\nHis flesh crawled; the alien was digging, seeping, sparking through\r\nhim, along his nerves, like a fluid, a worm, a gas, an insidious\r\nwrithing electricity. And the alien was winning. Inexorably he drove\r\nalong the stubborn channels to the seat of control, the watchroom in\r\nthe skull.\r\n\r\nThe talking-attendant stood with a rustling, limp black sac\r\nout-held--Minnn\'s husk, taken from the toy chest of Sally Odum. If\r\nChester could force the writhing Minnn back down and out of his\r\nfingertips and into the husk....\r\n\r\nBut he couldn\'t. The sweat rolled down his face as the fight went on\r\ninside him. He had no way of knowing what would happen when Minnn, who\r\nwas nearing it, reached his brain. Insanity? Convulsions? Death? At\r\nthe very least, Minnn would control him, and also know his thoughts,\r\nhis plan, his two aces in the hole.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThere was a twist and a tingle at the base of his skull--the invader\r\nwas entering his brainstalk. It was time to play his first ace. With a\r\nburst of determination to control his reeling motor functions, Chester\r\nreached out his hand and touched the hand of the talking-attendant.\r\nMonnn swished vengefully inside him.\r\n\r\nWhen they had discussed this the others had been afraid. So had\r\nChester. Two alien forces, one hostile, both struggling, might rip\r\nand rupture his psychic system like lightning bolts battling inside\r\na transistor. But Chester Forge was a stubborn man, with perhaps a\r\nbureaucratic stubbornness, certainly a human stubbornness, and he was\r\ncommitted to an end to be achieved.\r\n\r\nFor a few split seconds there was in Chester\'s nervous system what\r\nmight be described as a "hush." He took advantage of it to step through\r\nthe open door into a dimly-lighted room. The hospital director,\r\ninsulation-swathed, followed with the leather-rustling husk.\r\n\r\nThen Minnn and Monnn locked forces, and Chester reeled with the shock\r\nand swirl of the combat. The two forces mixed, fused, separated,\r\nmingled, yet Chester somehow knew always which was which, got bursts\r\nof the reasoning of each, knew in some indescribable way the alien,\r\nindecipherable natures of each of them. For an instant he panicked.\r\nSomething mysterious and terrible as the dark energy of infinity was\r\npounding and flashing in his merely human synapses and cells, something\r\nhe understood yet could not understand at all.\r\n\r\nHe felt a draining, and knew Minnn was tapping him for energy. Chester\r\nrallied to help Monnn. He pulled his energy, his thoughts, away from\r\nMinnn, rolling up, balling, clenching his powers, keeping them out of\r\nreach, probing for a chance to strike. Minnn filamented through half\r\nhis body; part of the alien was needling and darting into Chester\'s\r\nmind, burrowing toward knowledge of his plan. Chester buried his plan\r\nin the very center of the ball of thoughts, hiding his last ace.\r\n\r\nHe could not keep this up much longer, and he could feel that both\r\nMinnn and Monnn knew this. It was time for the big assault. He sent\r\nflash after flash of willpower crisping through his nerves, and Monnn\r\ninterwove himself in these assaults. Minnn was being forced back, and\r\nback, intolerably pressured.\r\n\r\nMinnn hurled his energies at them in a sudden rush, and Chester felt\r\nsomething in him begin to tear like a piece of silk.\r\n\r\nConcealed from Minnn like the kernel of a nut, Chester cupped the\r\nknowledge, his last ace. He was at the verge of cracking, now was the\r\ntime to play it. He edged toward the wall of the room, where a patient\r\nsat darkly on a bench. At the same time both he and Monnn drove forth\r\ntheir last few ergs of pressure against Minnn.\r\n\r\nChester felt something raise his arm. His arm moved toward the patient;\r\nhis palm touched the man\'s cheek. There was a sudden cleanness in him,\r\nand Minnn was gone.\r\n\r\nHe leaped backward through the door and it swung to and locked. A\r\npeep-panel was opened in it and the black fringed husk hung up before\r\nthe opening. Chester touched the talking-attendant so Monnn could pass\r\nover, then leaned weakly against the wall opposite the door.\r\n\r\n"I give him half an hour," he said. "Who\'s got a drink of water?"\r\n\r\nIt turned out that they had waited only twenty-two minutes when the\r\nfringed sac began to take a luster, to puff and to fill. When they were\r\nquite sure Minnn was entirely within it, they wrapped it tightly in\r\nthe insulation and took it away.\r\n\r\n"It was a good plan," said Monnn through the talking-attendant as\r\nthey drove back toward the town. "We could never have forced him to\r\nleave you to enter his husk--his logic would have driven him to fight\r\neven harder and to stay, with rather unfortunate results to you, Mr.\r\nForge, but under pressure he would leave to enter another host. And\r\nit was lucky the walls of that room held him--as you said, that was a\r\ngamble we had to take. But I wish you would again describe to me the\r\nphenomenon in that room. It sounds quite strange."\r\n\r\n"It\'s something that happens to humans," said Chester, "and I knew no\r\nRavian could put up with it. Illogic disturbs you, and you tour in\r\nhuman beings only for the sake of one kind of emotion, the pleasant\r\nkind. In that room there was no logic, and the emotions were of a\r\ndifferent kind, a kind you haven\'t heard of. The humans there were in\r\nwhat is called a depressive ward. They are illogically unhappy, all the\r\ntime."\r\n\r\n"I see," said Monnn through the lips of the attendant. "You have good\r\nlogic, Mr. Forge. 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'The Fugitives'

'Morehart, Malcolm B.'

b'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fugitives\r\n \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Fugitives\r\n\r\n\r\nAuthor: Malcolm B. Morehart\r\n\r\nRelease date: August 25, 2021 [eBook #66139]\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FUGITIVES ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n THE FUGITIVES\r\n\r\n By Malcolm B. Morehart, Jr.\r\n\r\n Somehow Jeff Engel followed the stranger\r\n into another world--among people who hated all\r\n aliens. And of course, he was now one himself!\r\n\r\n [Transcriber\'s Note: This etext was produced from\r\n Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy\r\n September 1953\r\n Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that\r\n the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\r\n\r\n\r\nJeff Engel studied the feverish crowd hurrying through the subway\r\nturnstiles. As he checked each passing face against a card-index mind,\r\nhe smiled to himself. Even when off duty, the habit persisted. There\r\nwas always the chance he\'d spot a face that would fit, one that would\r\nclose another active file in Missing Persons Bureau.\r\n\r\nA mousey little guy slipped through a turnstile and bumped into a fat\r\nwoman shopper. Engel glanced at the thin apologetic face and then at a\r\nbriefcase bearing the faded initials, "C. G." As a train rumbled in and\r\nthe noise of the commuters rose, something glinted at Engel\'s feet. He\r\nbent down, curious.\r\n\r\nIt was a cheap fountain pen inscribed with the same initials. He caught\r\na glimpse of the stranger on the crowded subway stairs.\r\n\r\n"Wait a minute, mister!" he yelled.\r\n\r\nWhen C. G. didn\'t turn, Engel hesitated, then pounded up the stairs\r\ninto dazzling sunlight. He squinted around at people and then over\r\nlow bushes into the city park where he saw the little fellow walking\r\nbriskly. Annoyed, Engel trotted down a shady walk, then down a quiet\r\nlane and finally reached out to tap his shoulder.\r\n\r\nC. G. vanished in thin air.\r\n\r\nEngel slid to a halt and rubbed his eyes. Fearfully he explored this\r\nqueer illusion, his hands pawing nothingness. There was a roar like a\r\nthousand subway trains, and something invisible and powerful hurled him\r\nsprawling. He lay stunned as the noise died away and then sat up to\r\nnurse a bruised head.\r\n\r\nSomeone grabbed his arms, jerked him rudely to his feet, and spun him\r\naround. A tall gangling cop glared down at him.\r\n\r\n"You been drinking?"\r\n\r\n"W-what?" Engel stammered. Confused, he looked more closely at this\r\nman who wore a gray metallic uniform, a glittering badge, and an oddly\r\nshaped holster. "I wasn\'t drinking. Something pushed me."\r\n\r\nThe cop smirked as he picked up the fountain pen and dusted it off with\r\nhis gloves. "This yours?" he asked.\r\n\r\n"Yes--uh, why, no," Engel sputtered. "It belongs to a guy I was\r\nchasing."\r\n\r\nThe cop\'s thick eyebrows lifted.\r\n\r\n"He lost it, and I was trying to return it," Engel explained. "But he\r\ndisappeared right in front of me!"\r\n\r\n"Well, that\'s a new one," the cop said with a cynical smile. He seized\r\nEngel\'s arm and dragged him down the walk. "I\'m running you in as a\r\ndrunk and robbery suspect, bud."\r\n\r\n"But I didn\'t do anything!" protested Engel.\r\n\r\nThe cop scowled. "We\'ll see. If you\'re innocent, you\'ll get out of\r\nC. D. in a few minutes."\r\n\r\n"C. D.?" Engel echoed. C. D.? C. G.? C. D.? The initials hopped wildly\r\nabout in his mind. At a soft whistling sound he glanced up above a high\r\nhedge and his eyes widened. Gleaming white towers rose up to fade into\r\nmisty blue, and around them silently darted silvery bubbles. Faintly\r\ntraced with jointed, concentric lines, the sky seemed to curve over him\r\nlike a lofty and enormous spider web.\r\n\r\nAs he was pulled across a wide street, tall, hollow-cheeked people\r\nstopped to stare at him, and he stared back in wonder.\r\n\r\n"Who are they?" Engel faltered.\r\n\r\nThe cop said nothing and led him through the low entrance of a tower.\r\nAs they went down a glowing hall, Engel touched the back of his still\r\naching head. Was his fall in the park causing these hallucinations?\r\nPossibly. But before the fall, hadn\'t some mysterious, unseen force\r\nthrown him into this crazy world? Then he had to find it again and\r\nsomehow escape back to reality!\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey entered a large room where lines of gaunt, solemn people stood\r\ngravely before grill windows. _The Enemy is Listening!_ a sign on a\r\nwall warned him as a loudspeaker blared out a garbled message. The cop\r\nshoved him into a line. Finally the man ahead of them fidgeted up to an\r\nugly, hatchet-faced woman who frowned impatiently.\r\n\r\n"Yes?" she snapped.\r\n\r\n"My wife deserted me," the scarecrow of a man complained. "I want to--"\r\n\r\n"Fill out this form, drop it in slot 9," she rapped out. "Next?"\r\n\r\n"A drunk and robbery suspect," the cop said. "Here\'s the evidence."\r\n\r\nBrightening, Hatchet-Face snatched up the fountain pen and whisked out\r\na blue card. "Misdemeanor and felony," she breathed sharply. "I\'ll take\r\nthe details."\r\n\r\nEngel clung to the edge of the window counter as the interrogation\r\nbegan.\r\n\r\nYes, he told them, he actually believed something invisible had knocked\r\nhim down after swallowing up the stranger. No, he hadn\'t robbed the\r\nstranger, he wasn\'t confessing anything. Yes, he was an honest citizen\r\nwith no previous criminal offenses. After more probing questions and\r\nvicious jabs at the form, she handed it to the cop who dropped it in a\r\nnearby wall slot. They waited for a verdict.\r\n\r\nIn a moment the cop turned to Hatchet-Face who whispered with him\r\nexcitedly. Flushed and triumphant, he steered Engel out into the hall.\r\n"Alien Detection wants you," he growled with uneasy respect.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nThey got into an elevator and shot swiftly upward. As they stepped\r\ninto a lavish reception room filled with sickeningly sweet perfume, a\r\nscrawny, over-rouged girl shut a magazine and jumped to a switchboard.\r\nThen a door opened, and a short, puffy man with cold fish-eyes bounced\r\nup to them. Waving the cop away, he gripped Engel\'s hand.\r\n\r\n"Ah, Mr. Engel!" he said smiling. "I\'m Commissioner Marston. Sorry\r\nabout the mix-up, but we didn\'t realize you were after C. G. Come in,\r\nplease."\r\n\r\nBewildered, Engel followed him into an office and looked through\r\nspacious windows down at the spires of a city he had never known.\r\nBeside a desk sat a wizened old man whose yellowed skin drawn taut\r\nover his broad skull gave him a shriveled, cadaverous aspect. He\r\ntapped a blue card on a thumbnail as his luminous eyes followed Engel\r\nsuspiciously.\r\n\r\n"Doctor Weeve, my chief alienologist," Marston said. "Sit down, Engel."\r\n\r\nEngel grasped the arms of his chair as Dr. Weeve scrutinized the card\r\nin silence.\r\n\r\n"Jeffrey Engel," he read aloud in a high petulant voice. "Missing\r\nPersons Bureau, eh? Hmm, reminiscent of the twentieth century. Is that\r\nwhat you call your detective agency?"\r\n\r\n_Reminiscent of...._ Engel pressed shaky fingers to his throbbing head.\r\nIf he told them he was from out of the past, how would they react?\r\n"Yes," he lied, "I found a fountain pen--"\r\n\r\n"You lone wolves have extraordinary hunches to compensate for a lack of\r\npolice techniques," Dr. Weeve said with a dry chuckle. "But one needs\r\nprotection when tracking aliens."\r\n\r\n"Tracking aliens?" Engel said, mystified.\r\n\r\nMarston laughed, leaned over his desk, and twirled a fountain pen in\r\npudgy fingers. "Take it easy, you\'re not suspect in this case. But the\r\nreport says you found this pen and in attempting to return it to its\r\nowner, you were struck by some invisible force." Marston glanced at\r\nDr. Weeve who nodded, then his voice grew hard. "Did this C. G. aim\r\nanything at you before you were hit?"\r\n\r\n"No, he didn\'t," Engel said and touched his head nervously.\r\n\r\n"Headache?" Dr. Weeve asked.\r\n\r\n"No, it\'s nothing," Engel countered. "When I got up, the man was gone."\r\n\r\n"You mean the alien was gone," Dr. Weeve contradicted him.\r\n\r\nEngel\'s throat went dry and he stared at them.\r\n\r\n"An alien!" shouted Marston. "Don\'t you understand?"\r\n\r\nDr. Weeve smiled thinly. "Mr. Engel\'s curious to learn the latest\r\nabout them and would draw us out in this childish way. I assure you we\r\ndespise them far more than millions who only read about them in their\r\ndaily telescripts. Since the flying saucer crash in \'68, we\'ve been\r\nvery much aware of their close surveillance of this world."\r\n\r\nThe doctor\'s face clouded as he gazed at the city. "The filthy blue\r\nspawn of Centauri send us exceedingly clever spies. Before invading\r\nour cities, they must seek out our military installations and plant\r\nexplosives at key points. Their assassins must be ready to strike...."\r\n\r\nDr. Weeve gently wrung bony hands, and Marston leaned forward, his pale\r\njowls quivering angrily. "To safeguard public welfare, this city branch\r\nof Alien Detection must find and exterminate aliens. So far we can\r\nboast of a perfect record, thanks to the new detection screen."\r\n\r\nAliens? Engel winced, recalling the mournful little stranger. "I can\'t\r\nbelieve that he--"\r\n\r\n"That he\'s a humanoid?" Marston spat out the word as if it were a lump\r\nof vileness in his throat. "C. G.\'s a sneaking saboteur who conceals\r\nhis ugly blue hide under a layer of false skin! But he\'s been detected."\r\n\r\n"He\'s detected?" Engel gasped.\r\n\r\nDr. Weeve inclined his vulture-like head quizzically. "For an\r\nintelligent man, Mr. Engel, you seem rather poorly informed." He\r\nreached to a cabinet, and across a cathode ray screen trembled a narrow\r\nribbon of light.\r\n\r\n"As you know," he said, "every act of an organism is preceded by an\r\nattitude, and that attitude takes the form of electromagnetic brain\r\nwaves. The detection screen is quite simple. Sensitive electronic\r\ndevices under the city dome pick up, amplify, and transmit brain waves\r\nto the central control here. Deviations from the social norm-wave are\r\npromptly investigated."\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nHe ran a gnarled finger along the ribbon of light. "Note the low,\r\nrhythmic pulsations of the norm-wave--a happy citizen at a social task\r\nsomewhere in the city." He adjusted a dial, and on the screen flashed a\r\nspasmodically twitching band. "A variation of anti-social type three--a\r\ncitizen planning murder. Criminal Detection has a police detail\r\nobserving him, and before he can strike, they\'ll take him in custody.\r\nNow C. G., the pseudo-man we\'re having shadowed."\r\n\r\nA jagged white band leaped in a wild dance.\r\n\r\n"Even cerebral abnormalities don\'t register this violently," the doctor\r\nsaid. "The electrical impulses of his artificial brain are powerful.\r\nThe detectors easily penetrate his feeble brain shield. He thinks he\r\nmoves unnoticed on his evil mission--but look at his tremendous pent-up\r\nhatred and fear!"\r\n\r\nEngel stiffened, his palms moist with sweat. C. G. was somewhere in\r\nthis city of the future. Of course he was feeling terrified--but these\r\nwitch-hunters were mistaking that terror for something else! He choked\r\nat a sudden thought. Why hadn\'t they discovered his own fear yet? Was\r\nhis head injury somehow protecting him from their sensitive machines?\r\n\r\nDr. Weeve was regarding him stonily.\r\n\r\n"Ingenious!" Engel blurted out.\r\n\r\nMarston placed an automatic on his desk and beside it a box of shells.\r\n"Yes, ingenious," he said, grinning, "but luckily for me these gadgets\r\ncan\'t do everything. Trapping the alien is next, and that\'s my\r\ndepartment. Show him the Tracer Room, doctor."\r\n\r\nNervously trailing Dr. Weeve, Engel went to a steel door and peered\r\nthrough a window. For a moment it seemed as if he were high above the\r\ntwinkling lights of a city at night until he made out a dark, sunken\r\nroom and skeletal figures with earphones clamped to their long heads.\r\nThey bent over a flat surface illuminated with bright grid lines and\r\nsprinkled over with a myriad glowing dots. Gaunt shadowy faces were\r\nfixed on a pip of light.\r\n\r\n"They place him on the east side of Baxter Avenue between 43rd and 44th\r\nstreets," Dr. Weeve explained. He rubbed a lean jaw, frowning. "But\r\nhow the detectors failed to pick up his presence before he reached the\r\ncivic center baffles us. Seems as if he just popped up there."\r\n\r\n"I\'m ready for the kill, gentlemen!" crowed Marston, slapping the\r\nholster strapped to his side. "You look pretty impressed, Engel."\r\n\r\n"Yes, yes, I am," Engel managed to say.\r\n\r\nWith the doctor close behind, he followed Marston apprehensively down\r\na corridor to a thick convex window. Marston slid it back and stepped\r\ninto what resembled a bowl-shaped cockpit, a confusing maze of dials\r\nand instruments under a hemisphere of glass. Motioning Engel to a seat,\r\nhe turned to the dashboard, and the same spot of light which Engel had\r\nseen in the Tracer Room flashed on a screen. He jabbed a button twice\r\nand picked up a microphone.\r\n\r\n"Marston to Captain Schaeffer. We\'re coming down."\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir. The alien\'s turned back," a strained voice replied. "He\'s\r\nnow walking south on Baxter. Might be on to us, he\'s acting jumpy."\r\n\r\n"You sound jumpy yourself, Schaeffer," Marston snapped. "Tell your men\r\nto hold their fire this time! All right, I have him on optibeam."\r\n\r\nMarston spun a wheel sharply, and they were falling. Engel braced\r\nhimself as a white glistening tower swung away to their left, and the\r\ngeometric depths of the city loomed up. He saw the doctor take a gun\r\nfrom a compartment, check it, and stand up wavering. His face was a\r\nmask of suppressed hate.\r\n\r\n"We\'ll dispatch him quickly," he hissed.\r\n\r\nEngel squirmed. To prevent a ruthless murder he\'d have to not only\r\noutwit these men but countless police besides. What was worse, with his\r\nheadache almost gone, his own uncontrollable waves of fear might expose\r\nhim.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\n"He\'s running," Marston said with a nod at the screen. As the globe\r\nshot down past white towers, a spotlight on the glass roof flashed red,\r\nand a shrill siren stung Engel\'s ears. Ahead of them a big globe fled\r\nout of their way, its passengers looking back at them, frightened.\r\nBlack dots on the street scurried to the towers.\r\n\r\n"I see him!" Dr. Weeve screeched.\r\n\r\nBelow them a man was running past a gray wall of huddled people. He\r\nlooked at them, dropped a briefcase, and sprinted into the deserted\r\nstreet. Marston chuckled into the mike. "We have him, Schaeffer. Not\r\nputting up much of a fight, is he?"\r\n\r\n"No, sir."\r\n\r\nMarston glided the globe a few yards above and slightly behind his\r\nquarry. As Engel stared down at the man\'s flapping coat and thin, blond\r\nhair, he clenched his fists. It was C. G. The siren moaned to a stop,\r\nand in the sudden silence that filled the globe he could hear weary\r\nfootsteps and anguished breathing. Heavy-lidded eyes narrowed at Engel.\r\n\r\n"Recognize him?"\r\n\r\nEngel\'s mouth opened, and his throat tightened. He closed his eyes and\r\nnodded.\r\n\r\n"Halt, alien!" Marston\'s voice boomed over a loudspeaker.\r\n\r\nC. G. whirled, and they saw a soiled, rumpled suit and a trembling\r\nsmall face. A tear spilled down one cheek.\r\n\r\n"W-who are you?" he cried out. "What do you want?"\r\n\r\nMarston put the muzzle of his automatic through a gun port and fired.\r\nC. G. screamed and fell. Then in bright dusty sunlight he rolled on one\r\nside, groaning, and clutched his arm where a dark stain spread slowly\r\ndown his sleeve.\r\n\r\n"You disappoint us, alien," Marston rasped. "Where\'s your espionage\r\ntraining? Where\'s the cunning to test our wits?"\r\n\r\nSoft, pitiful sobs answered Marston who barked, "Get up and run for\r\nyour life!"\r\n\r\nC. G. got up and limped away, and Dr. Weeve turned in surprise. "What\r\nare you waiting for? Why don\'t you finish him?"\r\n\r\nMarston grinned. "He\'s headed for the park so I\'ll finish him there.\r\nI\'d like some old style hunting."\r\n\r\n"Are you taking leave of your senses?" exclaimed Dr. Weeve. "What about\r\nthe weapon he used on Engel? Without this armorglass, you\'re risking\r\nyour life!"\r\n\r\n"If he has a weapon, why didn\'t he use it?" Marston fumed. "It\'s\r\nprobably in that briefcase he dropped." He bellowed into the mike,\r\n"Clear the park!"\r\n\r\nNumbly Engel watched C. G. stumble past police riflemen at the end of\r\nthe street and crawl into dense shrubbery. The globe zoomed ahead, then\r\npoised motionless over treetops as Marston searched for his prey.\r\n\r\n"Watch for him!" Marston whispered huskily.\r\n\r\nBut Engel watched the screen in horror. A telltale circle of light, its\r\nrim overlapping that of C. G.\'s, burned steadily brighter. An alarm\r\nbell rang on the instrument panel. Dr. Weeve raised a claw-like hand to\r\na switch, then eyed Engel queerly. "Something wrong?" he said. "Stomach\r\nqueasy?"\r\n\r\nHis eyes fell on the screen. "Another alien!" he shrieked.\r\n\r\nDr. Weeve\'s thin lips parted and his fingers fumbled at the safety\r\ncatch of his gun. Engel hurled him aside and grabbed at the wheel. The\r\nglobe keeled crazily, the trees rushed up at them. With a dull crash\r\nthe glass shattered, and struggling out of Marston\'s flabby arms, Engel\r\nkicked open the door and dropped to earth. He scrambled to his feet\r\nand crashed through high bushes, ducking as a lance of flame charred\r\nbranches overhead.\r\n\r\n"There\'s two of them!" Marston\'s choked voice thundered and\r\nreverberated against distant towers.\r\n\r\nEngel paused in a dark glade to hear a police whistle shrill and a dry\r\ncrackling grow louder behind him. Stealthily he crept toward sunlight.\r\nWith a shock he saw C. G. sitting in the open, exposed and dejected,\r\nhis head bowed in pain. Engel dashed over to him, hoisted him on his\r\nshoulders, and staggered over thick grass to a gravel walk. Then the\r\nground beneath him quaked. The hoarse cries of the hunters faded.\r\n\r\n * * * * *\r\n\r\nGently he lowered C. G. to a park bench, and an old man nodding in the\r\nwarm sunshine raised bleary, astonished eyes. Engel turned to see a\r\nnurse pushing a baby carriage and the old, familiar skyline of the city\r\nsmiling down on them. He shook with relief. Like an enraptured music\r\nlover he listened to the faint roar of traffic.\r\n\r\n"Don\'t let them kill me!" C. G. cried.\r\n\r\n"Winos with the d.t.s," the old man muttered and stomped off.\r\n\r\n"They\'re gone--all gone!" Engel shouted.\r\n\r\nThe little fellow groaned, pressing his wound. "You helped me--your\r\nworld need not fear us...."\r\n\r\nEngel spoke to him comfortingly. "Hold on, buddy, I\'ll get a doctor."\r\nHe pushed his way through a gathering crowd to a telephone booth. As he\r\nstepped inside, he saw C. G. limp quickly to the subway stairs. By the\r\ntime he had hurried back, the little fellow was gone.\r\n\r\nPuzzled, Engel reached for a hand railing to steady himself. He had\r\nlived a nightmare filled with obsessed men who dreaded blue-skinned\r\naliens from a distant world! He touched something sticky and realized\r\nthe bleeding C. G. must have clung to the railing as he descended. Then\r\nhe suddenly hoped he was mistaken. The dark blotch on his fingers\r\ncould be wet paint. 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'Through Space to Mars; Or, the Longest Journey on Record'

'Rockwood, Roy'

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