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diff --git a/40520.txt b/40520.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 123306a..0000000 --- a/40520.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8230 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Soul Stealer, by Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Soul Stealer - -Author: Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull - -Release Date: August 17, 2012 [EBook #40520] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL STEALER *** - - - - -Produced by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - - THE SOUL STEALER - - BY C. RANGER-GULL - - Author of "The Serf," "The Harvest of Love," "The Price of Pity," - "A Story of the Stage," etc., etc. - - LONDON - F. V. WHITE & Co., Limited - 14, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. - 1906 - - RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED - - BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND - BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. MR. EUSTACE CHARLIEWOOD, MAN ABOUT TOWN 1 - - II. UNEXPECTED ENTRANCE OF TWO LADIES 19 - - III. NEWS OF A REVOLUTION 31 - - IV. THE SECOND LOVER ARRIVES 50 - - V. A CONSPIRACY OF SCIENTISTS 60 - - VI. "WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOUR?" 70 - - VII. ENGLAND'S GREAT SENSATION 89 - - VIII. THE CHIVALROUS BARONET 100 - - IX. GRATITUDE OF MISS MARJORIE POOLE 109 - - X. A MAN ABOUT TOWN PAYS A DEBT 120 - - XI. BEEF TEA AND A PHOSPHATE SOLUTION 130 - - XII. THE TOMB-BOUND MAN 150 - - XIII. LORD MALVIN 160 - - XIV. DONALD MEGBIE SEES POSSIBILITIES 171 - - XV. HAIL TO THE LOVERS! 190 - - XVI. STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN THE TEMPLE 201 - - XVII. MARJORIE AND DONALD MEGBIE 211 - - XVIII. PLANS 222 - - XIX. A DEATH-WARRANT IS PRESENTED TO A PRISONER 230 - - XX. THOUGHTS OF ONE IN DURANCE 248 - - XXI. HOW THEY ALL WENT TO THE HOUSE IN REGENT'S PARK 258 - - XXII. THE DOOM BEGINS 264 - - XXIII. THE DOOM CONTINUES 280 - - XXIV. MR. WILSON GUEST MAKES A MISTAKE 286 - - XXV. AT LAST! 292 - - XXVI. TWO FINAL PICTURES 305 - - - - -THE SOUL STEALER - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MR. EUSTACE CHARLIEWOOD, MAN ABOUT TOWN - - -Upon a brilliant morning in the height of the winter, Mr. Eustace -Charliewood walked slowly up Bond Street. - -The sun was shining brightly, and there was a keen, invigorating snap in -the air which sent the well-dressed people who were beginning to throng -the pavements, walking briskly and cheerily. - -The great shops of one of the richest thoroughfares in the world were -brilliant with luxuries, the tall commissionaires who stood by the heavy -glass doors were continually opening them for the entrance of -fashionable women. - -It was, in short, a typical winter's morning in Bond Street when -everything seemed gay, sumptuous and debonair. - -Mr. Eustace Charliewood was greeted several times by various friends as -he walked slowly up the street. But his manner in reply was rather -languid, and his clean-shaven cheeks lacked the colour that the eager -air had given to most of the pedestrians. - -He was a tall, well-built man, with light close-cropped hair and a large -intelligent face. His eyes were light blue in colour, not very direct in -expression, and were beginning to be surrounded by the fine wrinkles -that middle age and a life of pleasure imprint. The nose was aquiline, -the mouth clean cut and rather full. - -In age one would have put Mr. Charliewood down as four and forty, in -status a man accustomed to move in good society, though probably more -frequently the society of the club than that of the drawing-room. - -When he was nearly at the mouth of New Bond Street, Mr. Charliewood -stopped at a small and expensive-looking hairdresser's and perfumer's, -passed through its revolving glass doors and bowed to a stately young -lady with wonderfully-arranged coils of shining hair, who sat behind a -little glass counter covered with cut-glass bottles of scent and ivory -manicure sets. - -"Good-morning, Miss Carling," he said easily and in a pleasant voice. -"Is Proctor disengaged?" - -"Yes, Mr. Charliewood," the girl answered, "he's quite ready for you if -you'll go up-stairs." - -"Quite well, my dear?" Mr. Charliewood said, with his hand upon the door -which led inwards to the toilette saloons. - -"Perfectly, thank you, Mr. Charliewood. But you're looking a little -seedy this morning." - -He made a gesture with his glove which he had just taken off. - -"Ah well," he said, "very late last night, Miss Carling. It's the price -one has to pay, you know! But Proctor will soon put me right." - -"Hope so, I'm sure," she answered, wagging a slim finger at him. "Oh, -you men about town!" - -He smiled back at her, entered the saloon and mounted some thickly -carpeted stairs upon the left. - -At the top of the stairs a glass door opened into a little ante-room, -furnished with a few arm-chairs and small tables on which _Punch_ and -other journals were lying. Beyond, another door stood half open, and at -the noise of Mr. Charliewood's entrance a short, clean-shaved, -Jewish-looking man came through it and began to help the visitor out of -his dark-blue overcoat lined and trimmed with astrachan fur. - -Together the two men went into the inner room, where Mr. Charliewood -took off his coat and collar and sat down upon a padded chair in front -of a marble basin and a long mirror. - -He saw himself in the glass, a handsome, tired face, the hair too light -to show the greyness at the temples, but hinting at that and growing a -little thin upon the top. The whole face, distinguished as it was, bore -an impress of weariness and dissipation, the face of a man who lived for -material enjoyment, and did so without cessation. - -As he looked at his face, bearing undeniable marks of a late sitting the -night before, he smiled to think that in an hour or so he would be -turned out very different in appearance by the Jewish-looking man in the -frock coat who now began to busy himself with certain apparatus. - -The up-stairs room at Proctor's toilette club was a select haunt of many -young-middle aged men about town. The new American invention known as -"Vibro Massage" was in use there, and Proctor reaped a large harvest by -"freshening up" gentlemen who were living not wisely but too well, -incidentally performing many other services for his clients. The masseur -pushed a wheeled pedestal up to the side of the chair, the top of which -was a large octagonal box of mahogany. Upon the side were various -electric switches, and from the centre of the box a thick silk-covered -wire terminated in a gleaming apparatus of vulcanite and steel which the -operator held in his hand. - -Proctor tucked a towel round his client's neck, rubbed some -sweet-smelling cream all over his face and turned a switch in the side -of the pedestal. - -Immediately an electric motor began to purr inside, like a great cat, -and the masseur brought the machine in his right hand, which looked not -unlike a telephone receiver, down upon the skin of the subject's face. - -What was happening was just this. A little vulcanite hammer at the end -of the machine was vibrating some six thousand times a minute and -pounding and kneading the flesh, so swiftly and silently that -Charliewood felt nothing more than a faint thrill as the hammer was -guided skilfully over the pouches beneath the eyes, and beat out the -flabbiness from the cheeks. - -After some five minutes, Proctor switched off the motor and began to -screw a larger and differently-shaped vulcanite instrument to the end of -the hand apparatus. - -Mr. Charliewood lay back, in a moment of intense physical ease. By means -of the electrodes the recruiting force had vibrated gently through the -nerves. New animation had come into the blood and tissues of the tired -face, and already that sensation of youthful buoyancy, which is the -surest indication of good health, was returning to his dissipated mask. - -"Now then, sir," said Proctor, "I've screwed on a saddle-shaped -electrode, and I'll go up and down the spine, if you please; kindly -stand up." - -Once more the motor hummed, and Mr. Charliewood felt an indescribable -thrill of pleasure as the operator applied straight and angular strokes -of the rapidly vibrating instrument up and down his broad back, -impinging upon the central nerve system of the body and filling him with -vigour. - -"By Jove, Proctor," he said, when the operation was over at last, and -the man was brushing his hair and spraying bay rum upon his face--"by -Jove, this is one of the best things I've ever struck! In the old days -one had to have a small bottle of Pol Roger about half-past eleven if -one had been sitting up late at cards the night before. Beastly bad for -the liver it was. But I never come out of this room without feeling -absolutely fit." - -"Ah, sir," said Mr. Proctor, "it's astonishing what the treatment can -do, and it's astonishing what a lot of gentlemen come to me every day at -all hours. My appointment book is simply filled, sir, filled! And no -gentleman need be afraid now of doing exactly as he likes, till what -hour he likes, as long as he is prepared to come to me to put him right -in the morning." - -After making an appointment for two days ahead, Mr. Charliewood passed -out into the ante-room once more. During the time while he had been -massaged another client had entered and was waiting there, lounging upon -a sofa and smoking a cigarette. - -He was a tall, youngish looking man, of about the same height and build -as Mr. Charliewood, clean-shaved, and with dark red hair. He looked up -languidly as Proctor helped Charliewood into his fur coat. The first -arrival hardly noticed him, but bade the masseur a good-day, and went -out jauntily into Bond Street with a nod and a smile for the pretty girl -who sat behind the counter of the shop. - -It was a different person who walked down Bond Street towards -Piccadilly--a Mr. Charliewood who looked younger in some indefinite way, -who walked with sprightliness, and over whose lips played a slight and -satisfied smile. - -It was not far down Bond Street--now more bright and animated than -ever--to Mr. Charliewood's club in St. James's Street, a small but -well-known establishment which had the reputation of being more select -than it really was. - -Swinging his neatly-rolled umbrella and humming a tune to himself under -his breath, he ran up the steps and entered. A waiter helped him off -with his overcoat, and he turned into the smoking-room to look at the -letters which the porter had handed him, and to get himself in a right -frame of mind for the important function of lunch. - -In a minute or two, with a sherry and bitters by his side and a Parascho -cigarette between his lips he seemed the personification of correctness, -good-humour, and mild enjoyment. - -Very little was known about Eustace Charliewood outside his social life. -He lived in Chambers in Jermyn Street, but few people were ever invited -there, and it was obvious that he must use what was actually his home as -very little more than a place in which to sleep and to take breakfast. -He was of good family, there was no doubt about that, being a member of -the Norfolk Charliewoods, and a second son of old Sir Miles Charliewood, -of King's Lynn. Some people said that Eustace Charliewood was not -received by his family; there had been some quarrel many years before. -This rumour gained general belief, as Charliewood never seemed to be -asked to go down to his father's place for the shooting, or, indeed, -upon any occasion whatever. There was nothing against Eustace -Charliewood. Nobody could associate his name with any unpleasant -scandal, or point out to him as being in any way worse than half a -hundred men of his own position and way of life. Yet he was not very -generally popular--people just liked him, said "Oh, Eustace Charliewood -isn't half a bad sort!" and left it at that. Perhaps a certain mystery -about him and about his sources of income annoyed those people who -would like to see their neighbour's bank-book once a week. - -Charliewood lived fairly well, and everybody said, "How on earth does he -manage it?" the general opinion being that his father and elder brother -paid him an allowance to keep him outside the life of the family. - -About one o'clock Mr. Charliewood went into the club dining-room. The -head waiter hurried up to him, and there was a somewhat protracted and -extremely confidential conversation as to the important question of -lunch. As the waiter would often remark to his underlings, "It's always -a pleasure to do for a gentleman like Mr. Charliewood, because he gives -real thought to his meals, chooses his wine with care and his food with -discrimination, not like them young men we get up from Hoxford and -Cambridge, who'll eat anything you put before 'em, and smacks their lips -knowing over a corked bottle of wine." - -"Very well," Mr. Charliewood said, "Robert, the clear soup, a portion of -the sole with mushrooms, a grilled kidney and a morsel of Camembert. -That will do very well. A half bottle of the '82 Neirsteiner and a Grand -Marnier with my coffee." - -Having decided this important question, Mr. Charliewood looked round the -room to see if any of his particular friends were there. He caught the -eye of a tall, young-looking man with a silly face and very carefully -dressed. This was young Lord Landsend, a peer of twenty-one summers, who -had recently been elected to the Baobab Tree Club, and who had a -profound admiration for the worldly wisdom of his fellow member. - -The young man got up from his table and came over to Mr. Charliewood. - -"I say, Charlie," he said, "I'm going to motor down to Richmond this -afternoon, just to get an appetite for dinner; will you come?" - -Charliewood was about to agree, when a waiter brought him a telegram -upon a silver tray. He opened it, read it, crushed the flimsy pink -Government paper in his hand and said-- - -"Awfully sorry, Landsend, but I've just had a wire making an appointment -which I must keep." - -He smiled as he did so. - -"Ah," said the young gentleman, with a giggle, prodding his friend in -the shoulder with a thin, unsteady finger. "Ah, naughty, naughty!" - -With that he returned to his place, and Mr. Charliewood lunched alone. - -Once he smoothed out the telegram again, and read it with a slight frown -and an anxious expression in his eyes. It ran as follows-- - - _Be here three this afternoon without fail._ - - _GOULDESBROUGH._ - -When Mr. Charliewood had paid his bill and left the dining-room, the -head waiter remarked with a sigh and a shake of the head that his pet -member did not seem to enjoy his food to-day. "Which is odd, Thomas," -concluded that oracle, "because a finer sole-oh-von-blong I never see -served in the Club." - -Charliewood got into a cab, gave the driver the name and address of a -house in Regent's Park, lit a cigar and sat back in deep thought. He -smoked rather rapidly, seeing nothing of the moving panorama of the -streets through which the gondola of London bore him swiftly and -noiselessly. His face wore a sullen and rather troubled expression, not -at all the expression one would have imagined likely in a man who had -been summoned to pay an afternoon call upon so famous and popular a -celebrity as Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S. - -There are some people who are eminent in science, literature, or art, -and whose eminence is only appreciated by a small number of learned -people and stamped by an almost unregarded official approbation. These -are the people who, however good their services may be, are never in any -sense popular names, until many years after they are dead and their -labours for humanity have passed into history and so become recognized -by the crowd. But there are other celebrities who are popular and known -to the "Man in the street." Sir William Gouldesbrough belonged to the -latter class. Everybody knew the name of the famous scientist. His -picture was constantly in the papers. His name was a household word, and -with all his arduous and successful scientific work, he still found time -to be a frequent figure in society, and a man without whom no large -social function, whether public or private, was considered to be -complete. He was the sort of person, in short, of whom one read in the -newspapers--"and among the other distinguished guests were Sir Henry -Irving, Sir Alma Tadema, Mr. Rudyard Kipling, and Sir William -Gouldesbrough." - - -He had caught the popular attention by the fact that he was still a -comparatively young man of five and forty. He had caught the ear and -attention of the scientific world by his extraordinary researches into -the lesser known powers of electric currents. Moreover, and it is an -unusual combination, he was not only an investigator of the lesser known -attributes of electricity who could be ranked with Tessler, Edison, or -Marconi, but he was a psychologist and pathologist of European -reputation. He was said by those who knew to have probed more deeply -into mental processes than almost any man of his time, and for two or -three years now every one who was on the inside track of things knew -that Sir William Gouldesbrough was on the verge of some stupendous -discovery which was to astonish the world as nothing else had astonished -it in modern years. - -Eustace Charliewood appeared to be an intimate friend of this great man. -He was often at his house, they were frequently seen together, and the -reason for this strange combination was always a fruitful subject of -gossip. - -Serious people could not understand what Gouldesbrough saw in a mere -pleasant-mannered and idle clubman, of no particular distinction or -importance. Frivolous society people could not understand how Mr. -Charliewood cared to spend his time with a man who took life seriously -and was always bothering about stupid electricity, while in the same -breath they rather admired Charliewood for being intimate with such a -very important person in England as Sir William Gouldesbrough -undoubtedly was. - -For two or three years now this curious friendship had been a piquant -subject of discussion, and both Sir William's and Mr. Charliewood's most -intimate friends had spent many pleasant hours in inventing this or that -base and disgraceful reason for such a combination. - -Yet as the cab rolled smoothly up Portland Place Mr. Charliewood did not -look happy. He threw his cigar away with a petulant gesture, and watched -a street arab dive for it among the traffic with a sneer of disgust. - -He unbuttoned his heavy astrachan coat; it felt tight across his chest, -and he realized that his nerves were still unstrung, despite the efforts -of the morning. Then he took a cheque-book from his pocket and turned -over the counterfoils till he came to the last balance. He frowned -again, put it away, and once more leant back with a sigh of resignation. - -In a few more minutes the cab drew up at a brick wall which encircled a -large house of red brick, a house built in the Georgian period. - -Only the top of the place could be seen from the street, as the wall was -somewhat unusually high, while the only means of entrance was a green -door let into the brickwork, with a brass bell-pull at one side. - -In a moment or two the door opened to Charliewood's ring, and a -man-servant of the discreet and ordinary type stood there waiting. - -"Good afternoon, sir," he said. "Sir William expects you." - -Charliewood entered and walked along a wide gravel path towards the -portico of the house, chatting casually to the butler as he went. - -It could now be seen that Sir William Gouldesbrough's residence was a -typical mansion of George the First's reign. The brick was mellowed to a -pleasant autumnal tint, the windows, with their white frames and small -panes, were set in mathematical lines down the facade, a flight of stone -steps led up to the square pillared porch, on each side of which a -clumsy stone lion with a distinctly German expression was crouching. The -heavy panelled door was open, and together the guest and the butler -passed into the hall. - -It was a large place with a tesselated floor and high white painted -doors all round. Two or three great bronze urns stood upon marble -pedestals. There was a big leather couch of a heavy and old-fashioned -pattern, and a stuffed bear standing on its hind legs, some eight feet -high, and with a balancing pole in its paws, formed a hat rack. - -The hall was lit from a square domed sky-light in the roof, which showed -that it was surrounded by a gallery, up to which led a broad flight of -stairs with carved balustrades. - -The whole place indeed was old-fashioned and sombre. After the coziness -of the smart little club in St. James's Street, and the brightness and -glitter of the centre of the West End of town, Charliewood felt, as -indeed he always did, a sense of dislike and depression. - -It was all so heavy, massive, ugly, and old-fashioned. One expected to -see grim and sober gentlemen in knee-breeches and powdered hair coming -silently out of this or that ponderous doorway--lean, respectable and -uncomfortable ghosts of a period now vanished for ever. - -"Will you go straight on to the study, sir?" the butler said. "Sir -William expects you." - -Charliewood did not take off his coat, as if he thought that the -interview to which he was summoned need not be unduly prolonged. But -with his hat and umbrella in his hand he crossed the hall to its -farthest left angle beyond the projecting staircase, and opened a green -baize door. - -He found himself in a short passage heavily carpeted, at the end of -which was another door. This he opened and came at once into Sir William -Gouldesbrough's study. - -Directly he entered, he saw that his friend was sitting in an arm-chair -by the side of a large writing-table. - -Something unfamiliar in his host's attitude, and the chair in which he -was sitting, struck him at once. - -He looked again and saw that the chair was slightly raised from the -ground upon a low dais, and was of peculiar construction. - -In a moment more he started with surprise to see that there was -something extremely odd about Sir William's head. - -A gleam of sunlight was pouring into the room through a long window -which opened on to the lawn at the back of the house. It fell full upon -the upper portion of the scientist's body, and with a muffled expression -of surprise, Mr. Charliewood saw that Sir William was wearing a sort of -helmet, a curved shining head-dress of brass, like the cup of an acorn, -from the top of which a thick black cord rose upwards to a china plug -set in the wall not far away. - -"Good heavens, Gouldesbrough!" he said in uncontrollable surprise, -"what----" - -As he spoke Sir William turned and held up one hand, motioning him to -silence. - -The handsome and intellectual face that was so well known to the public -was fixed and set into attention, and did not relax or change at -Charliewood's ejaculation. - -The warning hand remained held up, and that was all. - -Charliewood stood frozen to the floor in wonder and uneasiness, utterly -at a loss to understand what was going on. The tremor of his nerves -began again, his whole body felt like a pincushion into which -innumerable pins were being pushed. - -Then, with extreme suddenness, he experienced another shock. - -Somewhere in the room, quite close to him, an electric bell, like the -sudden alarm of a clock on a dark dawn, whirred a shrill summons. - -The big man jumped where he stood. - -At the unexpected rattle of the bell, Sir William put his hand up to his -head, touched something that clicked, and lifted the heavy metal cap -from it. He placed it carefully down upon the writing-table, passed his -hand over his face for a moment with a tired gesture, and then turned to -his guest. - -"How do you do?" he said. "Glad to see you, Charliewood." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -UNEXPECTED ENTRANCE OF TWO LADIES - - -For a moment or two Eustace Charliewood did not return his host's -greeting. He was not only surprised by the curious proceeding of which -he had been a witness, but he felt a certain chill also. - -"What the deuce are you up to now, Gouldesbrough?" he said in an uneasy -voice. "Another of your beastly experiments? I wish you wouldn't startle -a fellow in this way." - -Sir William looked keenly at the big man whose face had become curiously -pallid. - -There was a tremendous contrast in the two people in the room. -Gouldesbrough was a very handsome man, as handsome as Charliewood -himself had been in younger days, but it was with an entirely different -beauty. His face was clean shaved, also, but it was dark, clear-cut and -ascetic. The eyes were dark blue, singularly bright and direct in -glance, and shaded by heavy brows. The whole face and poise of the tall -lean body spoke of power, knowledge, and resolution. - -One man was of the earth, earthy; the other seemed far removed from -sensual and material things. Yet, perhaps, a deep student of character, -and one who had gone far into the hidden springs of action within the -human soul, would have preferred the weak, easy-going sensualist, with -all his meannesses and viciousness, to the hard and agate intellect, the -indomitable and lawless will that sometimes shone out upon the face of -the scientist like a lit lamp. - -Charliewood sat down in obedience to a motion of his host's hand. He sat -down with a sigh, for he knew that he had been summoned to Sir William -Gouldesbrough's house to perform yet another duty which was certain to -be distasteful and furtive. - -Yes! there was no hope for it now. For the last few years the man about -town had been under the dominion of a stronger will than his, of a more -cunning, of a more ruthless brain. Little by little he had become -entangled within the net that Gouldesbrough had spread for him. And the -lure had been then and afterwards a lure of money--the one thing -Charliewood worshipped in the world. - -The history of the growth of his secret servitude to this famous man -was a long one. Money had been lent to him, he had signed this or that -paper, he had found his other large debts bought up by the scientist, -and at the end of three years he had found himself willy nilly, body and -soul, the servant of this man, who could ruin him in a single moment and -cast him down out of his comfortable life for ever and a day. - -No living soul knew or suspected that there was any such bond as this -between the two men. Even Charliewood's enemies never guessed the -truth--that he was a sort of jackal, a spy to do his master's bidding, -to execute this or that secret commission, to go and come as he was -ordered. - -As yet all the services which Charliewood had rendered to Sir William, -and for which, be it said, he was excellently paid, were those which, -though they bordered upon the dishonourable and treacherous, never -actually overstepped the borders. - -Gouldesbrough employed Charliewood to find out this or that, to make -acquaintance with one person or another, to lay the foundation, in fact, -of an edifice which he himself would afterwards build upon information -supplied by the clubman. There was no crime in any of these proceedings, -no robbery or black-mail. And what happened after he had done his work -Charliewood neither knew nor cared. Of one thing, however, he was -certain, that whatever the scientist's motives might be--and he did not -seek to probe them--they were not those of the ordinary criminal or -indeed ever bordered upon the criminal at all. All that Charliewood -knew, and realized with impotence and bitterness, was that he had -allowed himself to become a mere tool and spy of this man's, a prober of -secrets, a walker in tortuous by-paths. - -"What did you wire to me for?" Charliewood said in a sulky voice. "What -do you want me to do now?" - -Sir William looked quickly at his guest, and there was a momentary gleam -of ill-temper in his eyes, but he answered smoothly enough. - -"My dear Charliewood, I wish you wouldn't take that tone. Surely we have -been associated too long together for you to speak to me in that way -now. It has suited your convenience to do certain things for me, and it -has suited my convenience to make it worth your while to do them. There -is the whole matter. Please let's be friendly, as we always have been." - -Charliewood shrugged his shoulders. - -"You know very well, Gouldesbrough," he said, "that I am in your hands -and have got to do anything you ask me in reason. However, I don't want -to insist on that aspect of the question if you don't. What did you wire -to me for?" - -"Well," Sir William said, passing a cigar-box over to the other, though -he did not smoke himself, "there is a certain man that I am interested -in. I don't know him personally, though I know something about him. I -want to know him, and I want to know everything I can about him too." - -"I suppose," Charliewood answered, "that there is no difficulty for you -in getting to know anybody you want to?" He said it with a slight sneer. - -"Oh, of course not," Sir William answered, "but still in this case I -want you to get to know him first. You can easily do this if you wish, -you are sure to have some mutual acquaintances. When you get to know him -make yourself as pleasant as you can be to him--and nobody can do that -more gracefully than yourself, my dear boy. Become his intimate friend, -if possible, and let me know as much as you can about his habits and -objects in life. I don't want you to spare any expense in this matter if -it is necessary to spend money, and of course you will draw upon me for -all you require in the matter." - -Charliewood held up his cigar and looked steadily at the crust of white -ash which was forming at the end. - -"What's the man's name?" he asked without moving his eyes. - -"His name," said Sir William lightly, "is Rathbone, a Mr. Guy Rathbone. -He is a barrister and has chambers in the Temple. A youngish man, I -understand, of about seven and twenty." - -At the name Charliewood gave a momentary start. He allowed a slight -smile to come upon his lips, and it was not a pleasant smile. - -Gouldesbrough saw it, flushed a little and moved uneasily, feeling that -although this man was his servant there were yet disadvantages in -employing him, and that he also could sting when he liked. - -Directly Sir William had mentioned the name of the person on whose -actions and life, not to put too fine a point on it, he was ordering his -henchman to become a spy, Charliewood knew the reason. He realized in an -instant what was the nature of the interest Sir William Gouldesbrough -took in Mr. Guy Rathbone, barrister-at-law. - -The famous scientist, long, it was said in society, a man quite -impervious to the attractions of the other sex and the passion of love, -had but a few months ago become engaged. - -Wealthy as he was, distinguished, handsome and attractive in his manner, -there had not been wanting ladies who would have very gladly shared and -appropriated all these advantages. Like any other unmarried man in his -desirable position, the scientist had been somewhat pursued in many -drawing-rooms. Of late, however, the pursuit had slackened. Match-making -mothers and unappropriated daughters seemed to have realized that here -was a citadel they could not storm. Six months ago, therefore, society -had been all the more startled to hear of Sir William's engagement to -Miss Marjorie Poole, the only daughter of old Lady Poole of Curzon -Street. - -Marjorie Poole was the daughter of a rather poor baronet who had died -some years before, the title going to a cousin. Lady Poole was left with -a house in Curzon Street and a sufficient income for her own life, but -that was all. And among many of the women who hunt society for a husband -for their daughters, as a fisherman whips a stream for trout, the -dowager was one of the most conspicuous. - -It was said that she had angled for Sir William with an alertness and -unwearying pursuit which was at last crowned by success. More charitable -people, and especially those who knew and liked Miss Poole, said that -the girl would never have lent herself to any schemes of her mother's -unless she had been genuinely fond of the man to whom she was engaged. -There had been much talk and speculation over the engagement at first, -a speculation which had in its turn died away, and which during the last -few weeks had been again revived by certain incidents. - -Eustace Charliewood, whose whole life and business it was to gather and -retail society gossip, was very well aware of the reason which made -people once more wag their heads and hint this or that about the -Gouldesbrough engagement. - -Mr. Guy Rathbone had appeared upon the scene, a young barrister of good -family but of no particular fortune. Several times Mr. Rathbone had been -seen skating with Miss Poole at Prince's. At this or that dance--Sir -William Gouldesbrough did not go to dances--Rathbone had danced a good -deal with Miss Poole. Many envious and linx-like eyes had watched them -for some weeks, and men were beginning to say in the clubs that "young -Rathbone is going to put the scientific Johnny's nose out of joint." - -It was this knowledge which caused the little sneering smile to appear -on Charliewood's face, and it gave him pleasure to detect the human -weakness of jealousy in the inscrutable man who held him so tightly in -his grip. - -"Well, all right," Charliewood said at length. "I'll do what you want." - -"That's a good fellow," Sir William answered, smiling genially, his -whole face lighting up and becoming markedly attractive as it did so, -"you've always been a good friend to me, Charliewood." - -"My banking account is very low just at present," the other went on. - -"Then I'll write you a cheque at once," Sir William answered, getting up -from his chair and going to the writing-table in the corner of the room. - -Charliewood's face cleared a little. Then he noticed his cigar had been -burning all down one side. He dropped it into an ash-tray and put his -hand in his coat pocket to find a cigarette. - -He took out an ordinary silver case, when his eye fell upon the crest -engraved upon the cover. He started and looked again, turning it so that -the light fell full upon it. - -The crest of the Charliewood family was a hand with a battle-axe and the -motto, "Ne Morare," and in the usual custom it was engraved upon -Charliewood's own case. - -But this was not the Charliewood crest. It was a wyvern charged on a -shield, and the motto consisted of the single word "GARDEZ." - -He gave a startled exclamation. - -"What's the matter?" Sir William said, turning round sharply. - -"I've got some other fellow's cigarette-case," Charliewood answered in -amazement, opening it as he did so. - -There was only one cigarette in the case, but there were several -visiting-cards in one compartment, and moreover the name of the owner -was cut in the inside of the lid. - -The case dropped from Charliewood's fingers with a clatter, and he grew -quite pale. - -"What is it?" his host inquired again. - -"Have you been playing some infernal trick on me, Gouldesbrough?" -Charliewood said. - -"No; why?" - -"Because this cigarette-case, by some strange chance, is the -cigarette-case of the man we've been talking about, this Guy Rathbone!" - -He stood up, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of the fur coat -as he did so. Then he pulled out a letter, stamped and addressed and -obviously ready for the post. - -"Good heavens!" he said, "here's something else. It's a letter for the -post." - -"Who is it addressed to?" Sir William asked in a curious voice. - -Charliewood looked at it and started again. - -"As I live," he answered, "it's addressed to Miss Poole, 100A, Curzon -Street!" - -There was a curious silence for a moment or two. Both men looked at -each other, and mingled astonishment and alarm were on the face of -either. The whole thing seemed uncanny. They seemed, while concocting -something like a plot, to have trodden unawares into another. - -Suddenly Charliewood stamped his foot upon the ground and peeled off his -overcoat. - -"I've got it," he cried. "Why, of course I've seen the very man myself -this morning. This is his coat, not mine. I went to a hairdresser's this -morning and left my coat in the ante-room while I was going through a -massage treatment. When I came out there was a man waiting there for his -turn, and I must have taken his coat in exchange for mine. And the man -was this Mr. Guy Rathbone, of course. You know these dark blue coats -lined with astrachan are quite ordinary, everybody is wearing them this -year. And I noticed, by Jove, that the thing seemed a little tight in -the cab! It's about the oddest coincidence that I've ever come across in -my life!" - -Sir William bowed his head in thought for a minute or two. - -"Well, this is the very best opportunity you could have, my dear -fellow," he said, "of making the man's acquaintance. Of course you can -take him back the coat and the cigarette-case at once." - -"And the letter?" Charliewood said swiftly. "The letter to Miss Poole?" - -Sir William looked curiously at his guest. - -"I think," he said slowly, "that I'll just spend half-an-hour with this -letter first. Then you can take it away with the other things. I assure -you that it will look just the same as it does now." - -Charliewood shrugged his shoulders. - -"Have it your own way," he said contemptuously, "but don't ask _me_ to -open any letters to a lady, that's all." - -Sir William flushed up and was about to make an angry reply, when the -door of the study was suddenly thrown open and they saw the butler -standing there. - -There was a rustle of skirts in the passage. - -"Lady Poole and Miss Poole, sir," said the butler. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -NEWS OF A REVOLUTION - - -Marjorie and Lady Poole came into the room. For two at least of the -people there it was an agonizing moment. But a second before, Sir -William Gouldesbrough had been proposing to steal and open a letter -written by another man to his _fiancee_. But a second before, Mr. -Eustace Charliewood, the well-known society man, had sullenly acquiesced -in the proposal. And now here was Marjorie Poole confronting them. - -"We thought we'd come to tea, William," Lady Poole said effusively, -going forward to shake hands with her future son-in-law. "Ah, Mr. -Charliewood, how do you do?" She gave him a bright nod, and he turned to -Marjorie, while her mother was shaking hands with the scientist. - -Charliewood's face was flushed a deep red, and his hand trembled so that -the tall girl looked at him in some surprise. - -Marjorie Poole was a maiden for whom many men had sighed. The oval face -with its pure olive complexion, the large brown eyes, clear as a forest -pool, the coiled masses of hair, the colour of deeply ripened corn, made -up a personality of singular distinction and charm. She was the sort of -girl of whom people asked, "Who is she?" And if younger sons and other -people who knew that they could never win and wear her, said that she -was a little too reserved and cold, it was only a prejudiced way of -expressing her complete grace and ease of manner. - -"How are you, Mr. Charliewood?" she said in a clear, bell-like voice. "I -haven't seen you since the Carr's dance." - -"Well, to tell the truth, Miss Poole," Charliewood answered with a voice -that had a singular tremor in it, "you startled me out of my wits when -you came in. Just a moment before, Sir William had mentioned your name, -and we were both thinking of you when, as quick as one of those -ridiculous entrances on the stage, pat upon the very word, the butler -threw open the door and you came in." - -"Oh, a stage entrance!" Marjorie answered. "I don't like stage -entrances;" and turning away she went up to her _fiance_, making it -quite clear that, whatever her opinions about the conventions of the -boards might be, she did not like Mr. Charliewood. - -The big, light-haired man stayed for a moment or two, made a few -conventional remarks, and then wished his host farewell. - -As he crossed the hall he began mechanically to put on the heavy -astrachan coat upon his arm, then, with a muttered curse which surprised -the butler, he took it off again and hurriedly left the house. - -"Well, and how are you, William?" said Lady Poole, sitting down by the -fire. "Are you going to give us some tea? We have been paying calls, and -I told Marjorie that we would just come on and see how you were, in case -you might be in. And how is the electricity going? Why don't you invent -a flying-machine? I'm sure it would be more useful than the things you -do invent. How charming it would be to step out of one's bedroom window -into one's aeriel brougham and tell the man to fly to the Savoy!" - -Gouldesbrough did not immediately reply, but old Lady Poole was used to -this. - -She was a tall, florid old thing, richly dressed, with an ample and -expansive manner. Now that Sir William had proposed and the forthcoming -marriage was an accepted thing, the good lady felt her duty was done. -Having satisfied herself of Sir William's position, his banking account -and his general eligibility, she cared for nothing else, and she had -grown quite accustomed to the little snubs she received from his hands -from time to time. - -Gouldesbrough was looking at Marjorie. His deep blue eyes had leapt up -from their usual intense calm into flame. The thin-cut lips were -slightly parted, the whole man had become humanized and real in a single -moment. - -The sinister suggestion had dropped from him as a cloak is thrown off, -and he remembered nothing of the plot he had been hatching, but only saw -before him the radiant girl he adored with all the force of his nature -and all the passion of a dark but powerful soul, to which love had never -come before. - -"How are you, dearest?" he said anxiously. "Do you know that I haven't -heard from you or seen you for nearly four days? Tell me all that you -have been doing, all that you have been thinking." - -"Four days, is it?" Lady Poole broke in. "Well, you know, my dear -William, you will have plenty of time with Marjorie in the future, you -mustn't attempt to monopolize her just at present. There have been so -many engagements, and I'm sure you have been entirely happy with the -electricity, haven't you? Such a comfort, I think, to have a hobby. It -gives a real interest in life. And I'm sure, when a hobby like yours has -proved so successful, it's an additional advantage. I have known so -many men who have been miserable because they have never had anything to -do to amuse them. And unless they take up wood-carving or fretwork or -something, time hangs so heavily, and they become a nuisance to their -wives. Poor Sir Frederick only took up tact as a hobby. Though that was -very useful at a party, it was horribly boring in private life. One -always felt he understood one too well!" - -Up to the present Marjorie had said nothing. She seemed slightly -restless, and the smile that played about her lips was faint and -abstracted. Her thoughts seemed elsewhere, and the scrutiny of the deep -blue eyes seemed slightly to unnerve her. - -At that moment the butler entered, followed by a footman carrying a -tea-table. - -Marjorie sank down with a sigh of relief. - -"I'm so tired," she said in a quiet voice. "Mother's been dragging me -about to all sorts of places. William, why do you have that horrid man, -Eustace Charliewood, here? He always seems about the house like a big -tame cat. I detest him." - -Gouldesbrough winced at the words. He had put his hand into the -side-pocket of his coat, and his fingers had fallen upon a certain -letter. Ah! why, indeed, did he have Charliewood for a friend? - -His answer was singularly unconvincing, and the girl looked at him in -surprise. He was not wont to speak thus, with so little directness. - -"Oh, I don't know, dear," he answered. "He's useful, you know. He -attends to a lot of things for me that I'm too busy to look after -myself." - -Again Marjorie did not answer. - -"What have you been doing, William?" she said at length, stirring the -tea in her cup. - -"I've been thinking about you principally," he answered. - -She frowned a little. "Oh, I don't mean in that way," she answered -quickly. "Tell me about real things, important things. What are you -working at now? How is your work going?" - -He noticed that something like enthusiasm had crept into her voice--that -she took a real interest in his science. His heart throbbed with anger. -It was not thus that he wished to hear her speak. It was he himself, not -his work, that he longed with all his heart and soul this stately damsel -should care about. - -But, resolute always in will, completely master of himself and his -emotion, he turned at once and began to give her the information which -she sought. - -And as he spoke his voice soon began to change. It rang with power. It -became vibrant, thrilling. There was a sense of inordinate strength and -confidence in it. - -While old Lady Poole leant back in her chair with closed eyes and a -gentle smile playing about her lips, enjoying, in fact, a short and -well-earned nap, the great scientist's passionate voice boomed out into -the room and held Marjorie fascinated. - -She leant forward, listening to him with strained attention--her lips a -little parted, her face alight with interest, with eagerness. - -"You want to hear, dearest," he said, "you want to hear? And to whom -would I rather tell my news? At whose feet would I rather lay the -results of all I am and have done? Listen! Even to you I cannot tell -everything. Even to you I cannot give the full results of the problems I -have been working at for so many years. But I can tell you enough to -hold your attention, to interest you, as you have never been interested -before." - -He began to speak very slowly. - -"I have done something at last, after years of patient working and -thought, which it is not too much to say will revolutionize the whole of -modern life--will revolutionize the whole of life, indeed, as it has -never been changed before. All the other things I have done and made, -all the results of my scientific work have been but off-shoots of this -great central idea, which has been mine since I first began. The other -things that have won me fame and fortune were discovered upon the way -towards the central object of my life. And now, at last, I find myself -in full possession of the truth of all my theories. In a month or two -from now my work will be perfected, then the whole world will know what -I have done. And the whole world will tremble, and there will be fear -and wonder in the minds of men and women, and they will look at each -other as if they recognized that humanity at last was waking out of a -sleep and a dream." - -"Is it so marvellous as all that?" she said almost in a whisper, awed by -the earnestness of his manner. - -"I am no maker of phrases," he replied, "nor am I eloquent. I cannot -tell you how marvellous it is. The one great citadel against which human -ingenuity and time have beaten in vain since our first forefathers, is -stormed at last! In my hands will shortly be the keys of the human soul. -No man or woman will have a secret from me. The whole relation of -society will be changed utterly." - -"What is it? What is it?" she asked with a light in her eyes. "Have you -done what mother said in jest? Have you indeed finally conquered the -air?" - -He waved his hand with a scornful gesture. - -"Greater far--greater than that," he answered. "Such a vulgar and -mechanical triumph is not one I would seek. In a material age it is -perhaps a great thing for this or that scientist to invent a means of -transit quicker and surer than another. But what is it, after all? Mere -accurate scientific knowledge supplemented by inventive power. No! Such -inventions as the steam-engine, printing, gun-powder, are great in their -way, but they have only revolutionized the surface of things; the human -soul remains as it was before. What I now know is a far, far loftier and -more marvellous thing." - -In his excitement he had risen and was bending over her. - -Now she also rose, and stared into his face with one hand upon his arm. - -"Oh, tell me," she said, "what in life can be so strange, so terrible in -its effects as this you speak of?" - -"Listen," he answered once more. "You know what LIGHT is? You know that -it can be split up into its component parts by means of the prism in the -spectroscope?" - -"Every child knows that to-day," she answered. - -"Good!" he replied. And he went on. "I am putting this in the very -simplest possible language. I want you to see the broadest, barest, -simplest outlines. Do you know anything of the human mind? What should -you say hypnotism was, for instance, in ordinary words?" - -"Surely," she replied, "it is the power of one brain acting upon -another." - -"Exactly," he said, "and in what way? How is a brain, not physically -touching another brain, able to influence it?" - -"By magnetism," she replied, "by"--she hesitated for a word--"by a sort -of current passing from one brain to another." - -He held out both his hands in front of him. They were clasped, and she -saw that his wrists were shaking. He was terribly excited. - -"Yes," he went on, his voice dropping lower and lower and becoming even -more intense, "you have said exactly the truth. The brain is a -marvellous instrument, a sensitive instrument, an electric instrument -which is constantly giving out strange, subtle, and hitherto -uninvestigated currents. It is like the transmitter at the top of Signor -Marconi's wireless telegraphy station. Something unseen goes out into -the air, and far away over the Mother of Oceans something answers to its -influence. That is exactly what happens with the human brain. Countless -experiments have proved it, the scientists of the world are agreed." - -"Then----?" she said. - -"Supposing I had discovered how to collect these rays or vibrations, for -that is the better word, these delicate vibrations which come from the -human brain?" - -"I think I begin to see," Marjorie said slowly, painfully, as if the -words were forced from her and she spoke them under great emotion. "I -think I begin to see a little light." - -"Ah," he answered, "you are always above ordinary women. There is no one -in the world like you. Your brain is keen, subtle, strong. You were -destined for me from the first." - -Once more, even in the midst of her excitement, a shade passed over her -face. She touched him on the arm again. - -"Go on! Tell me! Not this, not that. Tell me about the work!" - -"I," he repeated, "I alone of all men in the world have learnt how to -collect the invisible vibrations of thought itself. Now, remember what I -told you at first. I mentioned Light, the way in which Light can be -passed through a prism, split up into its component parts, and give the -secret of its composition to the eye of the scientist. Not only can _I_ -collect the mysterious vibrations of the human brain, but _I_ can pass -them through a spectroscope more marvellous than any instrument ever -dreamt of in the history of the world. I can take the vibrations of -thought, and discover their consistency, their strength, their MEANING." - -She stared at him incredulously. "Even yet," she said, "I fail to see -the ultimate adaptation of all this. I realize that you have discovered -a hitherto unproved truth about the mechanism of thought. That is an -achievement which will send your name ringing down the avenues of the -future. But there seems to be something behind all you are telling me. -You have more to say. What is the _practical_ outcome of all this, this -theoretical fact?" - -"It is this," he answered. "I hold in my hands the power to know what -this or that person, be it a king upon his throne, a girl on her wedding -day, or a criminal in the dock, is thinking at any given moment." - -She started from him with a little cry. "Oh no," she said, and her face -had grown very white indeed. "Oh no, God would not allow it. It is a -power only God has." - -He laughed, and in his laugh she heard something that made her shrink -back still further. It was a laugh such as Lucifer might have laughed, -who defied a Power which he would not acknowledge to be greater than -his. - -"You will never do that," she said, "wonderful as you are." - -"Marjorie," he answered, "I am a man with a brain that theorizes, but -never ventures upon a statement that cannot be proved by fact. If I tell -you this, if I hint broadly at the outcome of my life's work, I am doing -so, believe me, because I have chapter and verse for all I say, because -I can prove that it has passed from the dim realms of theory and of hope -into the brilliant daylight of actual achievement!" - -She stared at him. His words were too much for her mind to grasp -immediately. - -It was an intense moment. - -But, as in real life intense moments generally are, it was broken by a -curious interruption. - -A voice came thickly from the arm-chair by the fire, where old Lady -Poole had been reclining in placid sleep. It was the strange voice of -one who sleeps, without expression, but perfectly distinct. - -"I will not have it, cook--(indistinguishable murmur)--explained when I -engaged you--will _not_ have men in the kitchen!" - -Sir William and Marjorie looked at each other for a moment with blank -faces. Then, all overstrung as they were, the absurdity of the -occurrence struck them at the same moment, and they began to laugh -softly together. - -It was a little pleasant and very human interlude in the middle of these -high matters, and at that moment the great man felt that he was nearer -to Marjorie than he had been before at any other moment of the -afternoon. She no longer hung entranced upon his impassioned and -wonderful words, she laughed with him quite quietly and simply. - -Lady Poole snored deeply, and no longer vocalized the drama of her -domestic dream. - -Suddenly Marjorie turned back once more to Sir William. - -"It's only mother dreaming about one of the servants we have had to send -away," she said. "What a stupid interruption! Now, go on, go on!" - -Her voice recalled him to his marvellous story. - -"Tell me what is the actual achievement," she said. - -"It is this. When you speak into a telephone the vibrations of your -voice agitate a sensitive membrane, and by means of electricity the -vibrations are conveyed to almost any distance. When Madame Melba sings -into the gramophone, her voice agitates the membrane, which in its turn -agitates a needle, which in its turn again makes certain marks upon a -waxen disc." - -"Yes, go on, go on!" - -"When I put a certain instrument upon the head of a man or a woman, when -I surround the field of emanation by a shield which captures the -vibrations, they are conducted to a receiver more delicate and sensitive -than anything which has ever been achieved by scientific process -before. That receiver collects these vibrations and can transmit them, -just in the manner of a telephone or telegraph wire, for almost any -distance." - -"And at the other end?" Marjorie asked. - -"It has been a difficulty of ten long, anxious, unwearying years." - -"And now?" - -"Now that difficulty has been finally overcome." - -"Therefore?" - -"What a person thinks in London can be sent in vibrations along a wire -to Paris." - -"I see. I understand! But when there they can only be transmitted to -another brain, of course. You mean that you have invented a more -marvellous system of telegraphy than has ever been invented before. For -instance, I could sit here in this room and communicate with you with -absolute freedom in Paris. How wonderful that is! What a triumphant -achievement! But--but, William, marvellous as it is, you do not -substantiate what you said just now. The secrets of thought may be -yours, but only when the sender wills it." - -"Ah," he answered, with a deep note of meaning coming into his voice. -"If I had only discovered what you say, I should have discovered much. -But I have gone far, far away from this. I have done much, much more. -And in that lies the supreme value of my work." - -Once more they were standing together, strained with wonder, with -amazement and triumph passing between them like the shuttle of a loom; -once more she was caught up into high realms of excitement and dawning -knowledge, the gates of which had never opened to her brain before. - -"To come back to the phonograph," Sir William said. "The marks are made -upon the waxen disc, and they are afterwards reproduced in sound, -recorded upon metal plates to remain for ever as a definite reproduction -of the human voice. Now, and here I come to the final point of all, I -have discovered a means by which thought can be turned into actual -vision, into an actual expression of itself for every one to read. What -I mean is this. I have discovered the process, and I have invented the -machine by which, as a person thinks, the thought can be conveyed to any -distance along the wire, can be received at the other end by an -instrument which splits it up into this or that vibration. And these -vibrations actuate upon a machine by the spectroscope, by the bioscope, -which show them upon a screen in the form of either pictures or of words -as the thoughts of the thinker are at that moment sent out by the brain -in words or pictures." - -"Then what does this mean?" - -"It means that once my apparatus, whether by consent of the subject or -by force, is employed to collect the thought vibrations, then no secrets -can be hidden. The human soul must reveal itself. Human personality is -robbed of its only defence. There will be no need to try the criminal of -the future. He must confess in spite of himself. The inviolability of -thought is destroyed. The lonely citadel of self exists no longer. The -pious hypocrite must give his secret to the world, and sins and sinners -must confess to man what only God knew before." - -Marjorie sat down in her chair and covered her face with her hands. -Various emotions thronged and pulsed through her brain. The stupendous -thing that this man had done filled her with awe for his powers, with -terror almost, but with a great exultation also. She did not love him, -she knew well that she had never loved him, but she realized her -influence over him. She knew that this supreme intellect was hers to do -with as she would. She knew that if he was indeed, as he said, master of -the world, she was mistress of his mind, she was the mistress of him. -The mysterious force of his love, greater than any other earthly force -which he could capture or control, had made him, who could make the -minds of others his slaves and instruments, the slave of her. - -Yes! LOVE! That, after all, was the greatest force in the whole world. -Here was a more conclusive proof than perhaps any woman had ever had -before in the history of humanity. - -Love! Even while the inmost secrets of nature were wrested from her by -such a man as this, love was still his master, love was still the motive -power of the world. - -And as she thought that, she forgot for a moment all her fears and all -her wonder, in a final realization of what all the poets had sung and -all the scientists striven to destroy. Her blood thrilled and pulsed -with the knowledge, but it did not thrill or pulse for the man whose -revelations had confirmed her in it. The man whom she had promised to -marry was the man who had confirmed her in the knowledge of the truth. -And all he had said and done filled her with a strange joy such as she -had never known before. - -At that moment Sir William came towards her. He had switched on the -electric light, and the room was now brilliantly illuminated. In his -hand he held a large oval thing of brass, bright and shining. - -At that moment, also, old Lady Poole woke up with a start. - -"Dear me," she said, "I must have taken forty winks. Well, I suppose, my -dear children, that I have proved my absolute inability to be _de trop_! -What are you doing, William?" - -"It's a little experiment," Sir William said, "one of my inventions, -Lady Poole. Marjorie, I want you to take off your hat." - -Marjorie did so. With careful and loving hands the great man placed the -metal helmet upon her head. The girl let him do so as if she were in a -dream. Then Sir William pressed a button in the wall. In a few seconds -there was an answering and sudden ring of an electric bell in the study. - -"Now, Marjorie!" Sir William said, "now, all I have told you is being -actually proved." - -He looked at her face, which flowered beneath the grotesque and shining -cap of metal. - -"Now, Marjorie, everything you are thinking is being definitely recorded -in another place." - -For a moment or two the significance of his words did not penetrate to -her mind. - -Then she realized them. - -Lady Poole and the scientist saw the rapt expression fade away like a -lamp that is turned out. Horror flashed out upon it, horror and fear. -Her hands went up to her head; she swept off the brilliant helmet and -flung it with a crash upon the ground. - -Then she swayed for a moment and sank into a deep swoon. - -She had been thinking of Mr. Guy Rathbone, barrister-at-law, and what -her thoughts were, who can say? - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SECOND LOVER ARRIVES - - -On the evening of the day in which she had fainted, Marjorie Poole sat -alone in the drawing-room of her mother's house in Curzon Street. - -It was a large, handsome place, furnished in the Empire style with -mirrors framed in delicate white arabesques, and much gilding woven into -the pattern. The carpet was a great purple expanse covered with laurel -wreaths of darker purple. - -There was but little furniture in the big, beautiful place, but it was -all airy, fantastic and perfect of its kind. There was a general air of -repose, of size and comely proportion in this delightful room. Here, an -old French clock clicked merrily, there were two or three inlaid -cabinets, and upon the walls were a few copies of some of Watteau's -delightful scenes in the old courtly gardens of Versailles. - -Marjorie wore a long tea-gown, and she was sitting quite alone in the -brilliantly lit place, with a book in her hand. The book was in her -hand indeed, but she was not reading it. Her eyes were fixed upon the -opposite wall, though they saw nothing there. Her thoughts were busy and -her face was pale. - -She had recovered from her swoon in a minute or two, and found her -mother fussing round her and her lover generally skilful in doing all -that was necessary. And a short time afterwards she had driven home with -Lady Poole. - -What she had heard, the very strain of hearing and being so intensely -interested in it, had taken her strength away. Then had come the words -when Sir William told her that the very thoughts that she was thinking -at that moment were being in some mysterious way recorded and known. And -she knew that she had been thinking of another man, thinking of him as -an engaged girl should never think. - -But as she had returned to consciousness, Sir William had told her -kindly and simply that if she had feared her thoughts, whatever they -might be, were known to him, she need fear no longer. "There was no -one," he said, "observing any record of vibrations from your dear mind. -Do you think that I should have allowed that, Marjorie? How could you -think it of me?" - -She had driven home relieved but very weary, and feeling how complex -life was, how irrevocable the mistakes one made from impulse or lack of -judgment really were. - -Ambition! Yes, it was that that had brought her to where she was now. -Her heart had never been touched by any one. She never thought herself -capable of a great love for a man. From all her suitors she had chosen -the one who most satisfied her intellectual aspirations, who seemed to -her the one that could give her the highest place, not only in the -meaningless ranks of society, but in and among those who are the elect -and real leaders of the world. - -And now? Well, now she was waiting because Guy Rathbone was coming to -the house. - -A letter from him had arrived just before dinner. She had expected it by -an earlier post, the post by which all his letters usually came, and she -had been impatient at its non-arrival. But it had come at last, and she -was sitting in the drawing-room waiting for him now. - -He was on intimate terms in that house, and came and went almost as he -would, old Lady Poole liking to have young people round her, and feeling -that now Marjorie's future was satisfactorily settled, there was no need -to bar her doors to people she was fond of, but who, before the -engagement, she would have regarded as dangerous. - -Even as Marjorie was thinking of him, the butler showed Guy Rathbone -into the room. - -Marjorie got up, flushing a little as she saw him. - -"Mother's very tired," she said; "she's not well to-night, and so she's -gone to bed. Perhaps you'd rather not stay." - -He sat down, after shaking hands, without an answer in words. He looked -at her, and that was his answer. - -He was a tall young man, as tall as Sir William, but more largely built, -with the form and figure not of the student but rather of the athlete. -His face was clean-shaven, frank, open and boyishly good-looking; but a -pair of heavy eyebrows hung over eyes that were alert and bright, -robbing the upper part of his face of a too juvenile suggestion. His -head was covered with dark red curls, and he had the walk and movements -of perfect health and great physical power, that had once led a -dyspeptic friend at the Oxford and Cambridge Club to remark of him, that -"Rathbone is the sort of fellow who always suggests that he could eat -all the elephants of India and pick his teeth with the spire of -Strasburg Cathedral afterwards." - -There was force about him, the force of clean, happy youth, health, and -a good brain. It was not the concentrated force and power of Sir -William, but it was force nevertheless. - -And as he came into the room, Marjorie felt her whole heart go out to -him, leaping towards him in his young and manly beauty. She knew that -here indeed was the one man that would satisfy her life for ever and a -day. He was not famous, he was clever without having a great intellect, -but for some reason or other he was the man for her. She knew it, and -she feared that he was beginning to know she knew it. - -He was sitting in the chair, when he turned and looked her straight in -the face. - -"I have come to-night," he said, "to say something very serious, very -serious indeed. I am glad Lady Poole isn't here, just for to-night, -Marjorie." - -"I've told you you oughtn't to say Marjorie," she said. - -"Well," he answered, "you've called me Guy for a good long time now, and -one good turn deserves another." - -He smiled, showing a perfect and even row of teeth, a smile so simple, -hearty and spontaneous that once more that furiously beating heart of -hers seems striving to burst its physical bonds and leap to him. - -Then he passed his hand through his hair, and his face immediately -became full of perplexity and doubt. - -"I should have been here before," he said, "only I was detained. I met -a man who happened to take my overcoat to-day in mistake for his own -from the hairdresser's. He turned out to be a decent sort of chap, and I -couldn't get rid of him at once. But that's by the way. I've come here -to say something which is awfully difficult to say. I've fought it out -with myself, and I've wondered if I should be a bounder in saying it. -I'm afraid I'm going to say something that a gentleman oughtn't to say. -I don't know. I really don't know. But something within tells me that if -I don't say it I should be doing something which I should regret all my -life long. But you must forgive me, and if after what I've said to you -you feel that I oughtn't to have done so, I do beg you will forgive me, -Marjorie. Will you forgive me?" - -Her voice was very low. "Yes," she said in almost a whisper. - -"You are engaged to another man," he said. "I don't know him, I have -never seen him. I know he is a great swell and very important. A year -ago, if anybody had told me that I was going to talk to a girl who was -engaged to another man as I'm going to talk to you, I should probably -have knocked him down. Shows one never knows, doesn't it, Marjorie?" - -She began to breathe quickly. Her breast rose and fell, her agitation -was very manifest. The tears were beginning to well up in her eyes. She -hated herself for this visible emotion; she did her best to control it, -but it was utterly impossible, and she knew that she was telling him -even now what she knew also he most desired to hear. - -He got up from his chair, big, forceful, manly and young, and was by her -side in a moment. - -"Marjorie," he said, "dear, sweet girl, I can't help telling you, -however wrong it may be. I love you, I love you deeply and dearly. I am -quite certain, I don't know how, but I'm certain, and nothing in the -world could persuade me I wasn't, that I'm the man who was made for you, -and that you're the girl who was made for me. I can't put it poetically, -I don't know how to say it beautifully, as the Johnnies say it in the -novels and on the stage, but, darling, I love you." - -There was a catch and a break in his voice; a sob had come into it. - -Then he went on. "Do you know, Marjorie, I can't help thinking somehow -that you must have made a mistake--" He was kneeling now by the side of -her chair. His arms stole round her, she made no motion to forbid it. It -was a moment of absolute surrender, a surrender which she had no power -to withstand. - -And now he held her in his strong arms, his kisses fell upon her lips, -her head was on his shoulder, she was sobbing quietly and happily. With -no word of avowal spoken, she gave herself to him at that moment. He had -felt, and his whole body was shaken with joy and triumph, that come what -might, she was his in spirit if indeed she could never be his in any -other way. - -It was a great moment for those two young lives. Young man and maid, -knowing themselves and each other for the first time. It wasn't -romantic, exactly, there was nothing very striking about it, perhaps, -but it was sweet--ah! unutterably sweet! - - * * * * * - -He was walking about the room. - -"You must tell him," he said, "dearest. You'll have to go through so -much more than I shall, and it cuts me to the heart to think of it. -You'll have to face all the opposition of everybody, of your people, of -society and the world generally. And I can't help; you'll have to go -through this alone. It's a bitter thought that I can't help you. Dear, -dare you fight through this for me? Are you strong enough? are you brave -enough?" - -She went up to him, and placed both her hands upon his shoulders, -looking straight into his face. - -"I have been wicked," she said, "I have been wrong. But perhaps there -were excuses. Until one has felt love, real love, Guy, one doesn't -realize its claims or the duties one owes it. I was ambitious. I liked -William well enough. He interested me and stimulated me. I felt proud to -think that I was to be the companion of a man who knew and had done so -much. But now the mere thought of that companionship fills me with fear. -Not fear of him, but fear of the treachery I should have done my nature -and myself if I had married him. I don't know what will happen, but here -and now, Guy, whatever may be the outcome, I tell you that I love you, -and I swear to you, however wrong it may be, whatever violence I may be -doing to my plighted troth, I tell you that, however great the -unworthiness, I will be yours and yours alone. I know it's wrong, and -yet, somehow, I feel it can't be wrong. I don't understand, -but--but----" He took her in his arms once more and held her. - -It was late, and he was going, and was bidding her farewell. He knelt -before her and took her hand, bowing over it and kissing it. - -"Good-night," he said, "my lady, my love, my bride! I am with you now, -and shall be with you always in spirit until we are one--until the end -of our lives. And whatever may be in store in the immediate future I -shall be watching and waiting, I shall be guarding you and shielding you -as well as I can, and if things come to the worst, I shall be ready, and -we will count the world well lost, as other wise lovers have done, for -the sacred cause and in the holy service of Love." - -So he bowed over her slim white hand and kissed it, looking in his -beauty and confidence and strength like any knight of old kneeling -before the lady he was pledged to serve. And when he was gone, and she -was alone in her room up-stairs, Marjorie was filled with a joy and -exhilaration such as she had never known before. Yet there seemed -hanging over the little rosy landscape, the brightly-lit landscape in -which she moved, a dark and massive cloud. - -She dreamt thus. She dreamt that this cloud grew blacker and blacker, -and still more heavy, sinking lower and lower towards her. Then she saw -her lover as a knight in armour cutting upwards with a gleaming sword -until the cloud departed and rushed away, and all was once more bathed -in sunlight. She knew the name of that sword. It was not Excalibur, it -was Love. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A CONSPIRACY OF SCIENTISTS - - -Sir William Gouldesbrough had been up very late the night before. He -came down from his room on a grey morning a fortnight after the day on -which he had told Marjorie something of his hopes. It was nearly twelve -o'clock. He had not retired to rest until four upon the same morning. -And when he had at last left the great laboratories built out of the -back of the house, he had stumbled up to his room, a man drunk with an -almost incredible success--a success of detail so perfect and complete -that his intelligence staggered before the supreme triumph of his hopes. - -But the remaining portion of the night, or rather during the beginning -of the chill wintry dawn, he had lain alone in his great Georgian -bedroom, watching the grey light filtering into the room, flood by -flood, until the dark became something more terrible, something filled -with vast moving shadows, with monstrous creatures which lurked in the -corners of the room, with strange half lights that went and came, and -gave the wan mirrors of the wardrobe, of the mantel-shelf, a ghost-like -life only to withdraw, and then once more increase it. - -And as this great and famous man lay in this vast lonely room without -power of sleep, two terrible emotions surged and throbbed within -him,--two emotions in their intensity too great for one mind to hold. - -One was the final and detailed triumph of all he held dear in the world -of science and in the department of his life's work. The other was the -imminent and coming ruin of his heart's hope, and the love which had -come to him, and which had seemed the most wonderful thing that life -could give. - -Yes, there he lay, a king of intellect, a veritable prince of the powers -of the air, and all his triumph was but as dust and ashes and -bitterness, because he knew that he was losing a smaller principality -perhaps, but one he held dearer than all his other possessions. - -Emperor of the great grey continent of science, he must now resign his -lordship of the little rosy principality of Love. - -So, as he came down-stairs close upon mid-day of the winter's morning--a -tall distinguished figure in the long camel's-hair dressing-gown, with -its suggestion of a monk's robe--the butler who was crossing the hall -at the time was startled by the fixed pallor of his face. - -The man went up to him. - -"Excuse me, Sir William," he said, "but you're working too hard. You're -not well, sir. You mustn't overdo it. I have got you a sole and -mushrooms for breakfast, sir, but I should not advise you to touch it, -now I've seen you. If you'll allow me to offer my advice, I should -suggest a bowl of soup." - -"Thank you, Delaine," Sir William answered. "But I don't think I could -even take anything at present. Will you send my letters into the study?" - -"Yes, Sir William," the man replied, "and I shall make so bold as to -bring you a bowl of soup in half-an-hour, as well." - -Gouldesbrough crossed the great gloomy hall and entered the study. - -A bright fire was glowing on the hearth, the place was all dusted, tidy -and cheerful, even though the world outside was a blank wall of fog. - -He stood up in the middle of the room. Tall, columnar, with a great -dignity about him, had there been any one there to see. It was a dual -dignity, the dignity of supreme success and the dignity of irremediable -pain. - -The butler came in with the letters upon a copper tray. There was a -great pile of them, and as the man closed the door after he put the tray -upon the writing-table, Sir William began to deal the letters like a -pack of cards, throwing this and that one on the floor, with a shuffling -movement of the wrist, and as he did so his eyes were horrid in their -searching and their intensity. At last he came to the one he sought. A -letter addressed to him in a bold but feminine handwriting. As his -fingers touched it a loud sob burst out into the silence of the room. -With shaking fingers he tore it open, standing among the litter of the -unopened letters, and began to read. - -He read the letter right through, then walked to the mantel-piece, -leaning his right arm upon it as if for support. But the tension was now -a little relaxed. He had come down to find the worst, to meet the -inevitable. He had met it, and there was now neither premonition of the -moment of realization nor the last and torturing flicker of despairing -hope. - -This was the letter. It began without preface or address-- - - "You must have known this was coming. Everything in your manner has - shown me that you knew it was coming. And for that, unhappy as I - am, I am glad. I have a terrible confession to make to you. But - you who are so great, you who know the human mind from your great - height, as a conquering general surveys a country from a - mountain-top, you will understand. When you asked me to marry you - and I said 'Yes,' I was pleased and flattered, and I had a - tremendous admiration and respect for you and for all you have - done. Then when we came to know each other, I began to see the - human side of you, and I had, and if you will let me say so, still - have, a real affection for you. And had it not been that something - more powerful than affection has come into my life, I would have - been a true and faithful wife and companion to you. - - "But you have seen, and you must know, that things are changed. Are - we not all subject to the laws of destiny, the laws of chance? Is - it not true that none of us on our way through the world can say by - whom or how we shall be caught up out of ourselves and changed into - what we could not be before? Oh, you know it all. You of all men - know it! - - "I need not here speak in detailed words, because from things you - have seen you know well enough what I am about to say, of whom I - would speak if I could. But it is enough, William, to tell you what - you already know. That I love some one else, and that if I am true - to myself, which is after all the first _duty_ of all of us, I - could never marry you. I can never be to you what you wish or what - I would like to be as your wife. I am stricken down with the - knowledge of the pain all this will give you, though, thank God, it - is not a pain for which you are unprepared. I dare not ask your - forgiveness, I can say nothing to console you. I have acted - wickedly and wrongly, but I cannot do anything else but what I am - doing. - - "Forgive, if you can. Think kindly, if you can, of Marjorie." - -Now he knew. He folded the letter gently, kissed it--an odd action for a -man so strong--and put it in the inside pocket of his coat, which -pressed next his heart. - -Then he rang the bell. - -"Ask Mr. Guest to come," he said. - -"Very well, Sir William," the butler answered, "but Mr. Charliewood has -just arrived." - -"Then ask him in," Gouldesbrough answered. - -Charliewood came into the room. - -"By Jove!" he said, "you look about as seedy as I've ever seen you -look!" - -Sir William went up to him and put his hand upon his shoulder. - -"Look here," he said, "I've had a smack in the face this morning, -Charliewood. You know what it is, I need not tell you. And look here, -too, I'm going to ask you to help me as you've never helped me before. -I'm afraid, old fellow, I've often been a nuisance to you, and often -rather rubbed in the fact that you owe me money, and that you've had to -do things for me. Forgive me now, if you will. I'm going to call upon -you for active friendship." - -"Oh," Charliewood answered, "we won't talk about friendship between you -and me. I've done what I had to do and there's enough." - -Sir William still held him by the shoulder. "You don't really feel that, -Charliewood?" he said in a quiet voice, and as he did so the magnetism -of his personality began to flow and flood upon the weaker man and -influence him to kindliness. - -"Well, well," he said, "what is it now? I suppose we've been running -round a vicious circle and we've come to the last lap?" - -"That's just about it," Sir William answered. "Just let me say that this -is the last service I shall ever ask from you. I'll give you back all -the I.O.U.'s and things, and I'll give you enough money to put yourself -absolutely right with the world, then we'll say good-bye." - -Charliewood started. "That's awfully good of you," he said. "I don't -think that I want to say good-bye. But still, what is it?" - -"Rathbone," Sir William answered, pronouncing the name with marked -difficulty. - -"It's all over then?" Charliewood answered. - -"Yes." - -"I thought it would be. I have told you all that has been going on, and -I knew it would be." - -"She's written to me this morning," Gouldesbrough said. "A kind letter, -but a letter finishing it all." - -Then the weaker, smaller man became, as so often happens in life, the -tempter--the instrument which moves the lever of a man's career towards -the dark sinister side of the dial. - -Charliewood was touched and moved by the unexpected kindness in his -patron's voice. - -"Don't say it's finished," he said; "nothing is finished for a man like -you, with a man like me to help him. Of course it's not finished. You -have not always been all you might to me, William, but I'll help you -now. I'll do anything you want me to do. Buck up, old boy! You will pass -the post first by a couple of lengths yet." - -"How?" - -"Well, what were you going to ask me to do?" - -They looked each other in the face with glowing eyes and pale -countenances, while a horrible excitement shone out upon them both. - -At that moment the door opened very quietly, and an extraordinary person -came into the room. - -He was a short, fat, youthful-looking man, with a large, pink, and quite -hairless face. The face was extremely intelligent, noticeably so, but it -was streaked and furrowed with dissipation. It told the story not of the -man who enjoyed the sensuous things of life in company, and as part of a -merry progress towards the grave, but it betrayed the secret sot, the -cunning sensualist private and at home. - -This man was Mr. Guest, Sir William's faithful assistant in science, a -man who had no initiative power, who could rarely invent a project or -discover a scientific fact, but a man who, when once he was put upon the -lines he ought to go, could follow them as the most intelligent -sleuth-hound in the scientific world. - -Wilson Guest was perhaps the greatest living physicist in Europe. He was -of inestimable value to his chief, and he was content to remain between -the high red-brick walls of the old house in Regent's Park, provided -with all he needed for his own amusements, and instigated to further -triumphs under the aegis of his master. - -"Well, what is it?" said this fat, youthful and rather horrible-looking -person. - -"We've come to grips of the great fact, Guest," Sir William answered, -still with his hand upon Charliewood's shoulder. - -The pink creature laughed a hollow and merciless laugh. - -"I knew it would come to this," he said, "since you have added another -interest to your scientific interests, Gouldesbrough. Why have you -called me in to a consultation?" - -Gouldesbrough's whole face changed; it became malignant, the face of a -devil. - -"I'm going to win," he said. "I've had a knock-down blow, but I'm going -to get up and win still! Mr. Rathbone must disappear. That can be easily -arranged with the resources at our command." - -Guest gave a horrible chuckle. - -"And when we've got him?" he said. - -"He must disappear for always," Gouldesbrough answered. - -"Quite easy," Guest replied. "Quite easy, William. But, _not until we've -done with him, shall he_?" - -"What do you mean?" - -"Why, isn't it the last condition of our experiments that we should have -some one a slave, a dead man to the world, to use as we shall think fit? -Here's your man. Do what you like to him afterwards. Let's make your -rival a stepping-stone to your final success." - -Then the three men looked at each other in fear. - -Charliewood and Sir William Gouldesbrough were pale as linen, but the -short, fat man was pink still, and laughed and chuckled nervously. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -"WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOUR?" - - -Mr. Eustace Charliewood's chambers were in Jermyn Street. But few of his -many friends had ever seen the interior of them. Such entertaining as -the man about town did--and he was always one of those who were -entertained, rather than one of those who offer hospitality--was done at -his club. - -The man who looked after the place and valeted his master was therefore -the more surprised when Charliewood had called him up one morning after -breakfast. - -"Look here, William," Charliewood had said, "I've got a gentleman coming -to dinner. We've some business to talk over, so I shan't dine him at the -club. I suppose you can manage a little dinner here?" - -"Certainly, sir, if necessary," the man answered. "Of course you're not -in the habit of dining at home, and you've not got your own things. That -is if you mean a proper little dinner, sir." - -"I do, I do, William," his master answered hurriedly. - -"But, there, that needn't matter," the man answered, "we can have -everything in if you like, sir." - -"That will be best," Charliewood answered. "I leave everything to you, -William. Except," he added as an afterthought, "the menu. I want a small -dinner, William, but quite good. Shall we say a little _bisque_ for the -soup? Then perhaps a small Normandy sole. Afterwards a chicken cooked -_en casserole_. As an _entree_ some white truffles stewed in -Sillery--you can get them in glass jars from Falkland & Masons--and then -a morsel of Brie and some coffee. That will do, I think." - -"And about the wine, sir?" said William, astonished at these -unaccustomed preparations, and inwardly resolving that Mr. Eustace -Charliewood had discovered a very brightly plumed pigeon to pluck. - -"Oh, about the wine! Well, I think I'll see to that myself. I'll have it -sent up from the club. You've an ice-pail for the champagne, haven't -you, William?" - -"Yes, sir, we certainly have _that_." - -"Very good then. We'll say at eight then." - -William bowed and withdrew. - -All that day the various members of this or that fast and exclusive -club round about St. James's Street, noticed that Eustace Charliewood -was out of form. His conversation and his greetings were not so -imperturbably cheerful and suave as usual. He took no interest in the -absorbing question as to whether young Harry Rayke--the Earl of Spaydes' -son--would after all propose to Lithia Varallette, the well-known -musical comedy girl. The head waiter of the Baobab Club noticed Mr. -Charliewood was off his food, and everybody with whom the man about town -came in contact said that "Richard was by no means himself." - -As the evening drew on, a dark, foggy evening, which promised as night -came to be darker and foggier still, Charliewood's agitation increased, -though just now there was no one to see it. - -He walked down St. James's Street, past Marlborough House, and briskly -promenaded the wide and splendid avenue which now exists in front of -Buckingham Palace. The fog made him cough, the raw air was most -unpleasant, and it was no hour for exercise. But, despite the cold and -misery of it all, Charliewood continued his tramp backwards and -forwards. - -When he returned to his chambers in Jermyn Street, about seven o'clock, -he found that his clothes were wet with perspiration, and only a hot -bath before dressing for dinner and a couple of bromide tabloids in a -wine-glass full of milk seemed to bring him back to his ordinary -condition. - -When, however, he went into his little dining-room, to all outward -appearances he was the usual Eustace Charliewood of the pavements and -club-rooms of the West End. - -The room was comfortable. A bright fire glowed upon the hearth, shining -upon the high-class sporting prints, the subdued wall-paper, the -comfortable padded chairs, and the shelves loaded with bachelor -nick-nacks and sporting trophies of his youth. - -In one corner was a little round table set for two, gleaming with glass -and silver and lit by electric lights covered with crimson shades. - -It was all very warm and inviting. He looked round it with satisfaction -for a moment. - -Then, suddenly, as he stood on the hearth-rug, he put his plump, white -hand with the heavy seal ring upon it, up to his throat. The apple moved -up and down convulsively, and for a single moment the whole being of the -man was filled with overmastering fear of the future and horror and -loathing for himself. - -The spasm passed as quickly as it came, the drug he had taken asserted -its grip upon the twitching nerves, the man whose whole life was -discreet adventure, who was a soldier of social fortune, who daily -faced perils, became once more himself. - -That is to say, to put it in two words, his better angel, who had held -possession of him for a moment, fled sorrowfully away, while the -especial spirit deputed to look after the other side of him happened to -chance that way, and remembering he had often found a hospitable -reception from Mr. Eustace Charliewood, looked in, found his old -quarters duly swept and garnished, and settled down. - -Charliewood's rooms were on the ground floor. In a minute or two, it was -about a quarter to eight, he heard someone upon the steps outside, in -Jermyn Street, and then the electric bell whirr down below in the -kitchen. - -He rushed out into the hall. It generally took William some time to -mount from the lower regions, which were deep in the bowels of the -earth, and no doubt Mr. Charliewood kindly desired to spare the butler -the trouble of opening the door. - -So, at least, William thought, as he mounted the kitchen stairs and came -out into the hall to find Mr. Charliewood already helping his guest off -with his coat and showing him into the dining-room. William did not know -that there were any special reasons in Mr. Charliewood's mind for not -having his guest's name announced and possibly remembered by the -servant. - -"Well, my dear Rathbone, how are you?" Charliewood said, and no face -could have been kinder or more inviting and pleasant to see than the -face of the host. "Awfully good of you to come and take me like this, -but I thought we should be more comfortable here than at the Club. There -are one or two things I want to talk over. I'll do you as well as I can, -but I can't answer for anything. You must take pot luck!" - -Guy Rathbone looked round the charming room and laughed--a full-blooded, -happy laugh. - -"I wish you could see my chambers in the Temple," he said. "But you -fellows who live up this end do yourselves so jolly well!" - -"I suppose one does overdo it," Charliewood answered, "in the way of -little comforts and things. It's a mistake, no doubt, but one gets used -to it and was brought up to it, and so just goes on, dependent upon -things that a sensible man could easily do without. Now, sit down and -have a sherry and bitters. Dinner will be up in a minute. And try one of -these cigarettes. It's a bad plan to smoke before dinner, I know, as a -rule, but these little things just go with the sherry and bitters, and -they are special. I get them over from Rio. They're made of black -Brazilian tobacco, as you see; they're only half as long as your finger, -and instead of being wrapped in filthy, poisonous rice paper, they're -covered with maize leaves." - -Rathbone sank into the luxurious chair which his host pointed out to -him, took the sherry, in its heavily cut glass, and lit one of the -cigarettes. He stretched out his feet towards the fire and enjoyed a -moment of intense physical ease. The flames and the shaded electric -lights shone upon his fine and happy face, twinkled upon the stud in his -shirt front, and showed him for what he was at that moment--a young -gentleman intensely enjoying everything that life had to give. - -In a moment or two more dinner was served. - -"You needn't wait, William," Charliewood said, as they sat down to the -_hors d'oeuvre_. "Just put the soup on and I'll ring when we're ready." - -"So good of you to ask me," Rathbone said. "I should have gone to the -Oxford and Cambridge Club, had a beef-steak, looked at the evening -papers, and then returned to chambers to write letters. Rather a dismal -proceeding on a night like this!" - -"Hadn't you anything on to-night, then?" Charliewood asked carelessly. - -"Not a single thing," Rathbone answered. "I've been cutting all my -engagements during the last week or two, telling people I was going out -of town. I've got a special reason for working very hard just now." - -Charliewood started, and a slight gleam came into his eyes. - -"Good idea, that!" he said, "telling people you're going out of town -when you want to be quiet for a week or two!" - -"It is," Rathbone replied. "At most of the houses I'm in the habit of -going to just now every one thinks I'm away. I've been living the life -of a recluse, as far as society goes." - -Charliewood slightly lifted a glass of Pol Roger. - -"Here's success to the work, my dear boy," he said jovially. "And I -congratulate myself on the odd accident which brought us together. And -of course I don't know you very well, Rathbone, and I am sure I should -hate to be impertinent in any way. But still, as you know, I go about -everywhere, and one can't help hearing things. And, besides, I'm in a -special position in regard to a certain matter, too. Here's my best wish -for your happiness in the future, in another way!" - -He looked straight into the young man's eyes as he said this, and as he -did so Rathbone, whose glass was lifted in response, began to colour -until his whole face became crimson. - -"I haven't offended you?" Charliewood said quickly. - -"Oh--er--not a bit, of course," Rathbone answered with manifest -uneasiness. "But I didn't know that anything had got about. I didn't -know that you knew. Oh, confound it," he concluded, "I don't want to -talk about my own affairs; I----Hang it all, Charliewood, tell me -straight out what you mean." - -"I repeat," Charliewood answered, "that I haven't known you very long, -and therefore I am very chary of in any way infringing the natural -reticence that should be between men in our position. Still, you know -who I am; everybody knows all about me, and I should like you to believe -that I am really a friend." - -As he said this, though his face was full of frankness and kindliness -once more, Charliewood felt that sick loathing of himself he had -experienced just before his guest had arrived. There was a throbbing at -his temples, his throat felt as if it were packed with warm flour. He -hurriedly gulped down some champagne and went on. "Everybody knows by -this time," he said in a quiet voice, "that--that--well, old chap, that -there has been a sort of set to partners and a change in certain -quarters." - -At that moment William appeared with the fish, Charliewood having rung -for him at the psychological moment, knowing that the little interlude -would give his guest time to collect his thoughts. - -When the man had once more left the room, Rathbone, who had been biting -his lips in perplexity and drumming upon the table with his fingers, -bent towards his host. - -"I see you know all about it," he said; "and, upon my word, if you'd let -me, I should like to talk things over with you from one point of view." - -"My dear Rathbone," Charliewood replied, "say nothing whatever to me -unless you like, but understand that what you did say would be said in -absolute confidence, and that if the experience of a man older in social -life, and accustomed to all its vagaries, can help you, I give it to you -with all my heart." - -"Now I call that very good of you, Charliewood," the young man answered. -"I'll tell you straight out, what you probably already know, and I'll -ask you for a hint as to what I ought to do. Miss Poole"--he mentioned -the name with obvious reluctance--"has found that she made an--er, well, -a sort of mistake in her affections. I have no doubt it's all over -London that she's written to Sir William Gouldesbrough telling him so." - -"Throwing him over, in fact," Charliewood said. - -"If you like to put it so," the other answered, "and of course that is -just what it amounts to." - -"Well then?" Charliewood said. - -"I feel in a sort of way that I've done an awfully caddish thing," -Rathbone went on. "Fortunately, I am not in Gouldesbrough's set. I don't -know him at all. At the same time it's awfully bad form to make love to -a girl who's engaged to any one else. And that, unconsciously, is just -what I seem to have been doing for a very long time. But, believe me," -he concluded with a singular simplicity and boyishness, "I really -couldn't help it." - -Charliewood laughed a little and then sighed to himself. - -"I quite understand," he said; "these things do and will happen, and it -wasn't your fault at all. But I do think it's very wrong if a girl who -finds that she has made a mistake doesn't put it right before it becomes -unavoidable." - -"Do you really?" Rathbone cried. "Well, do you know, that's just my -point of view, and it relieves me to hear you say so." - -"And do you know," Charliewood replied, "that I'm probably the most -intimate friend William Gouldesbrough has in the world?" - -Rathbone started. "Good Lord!" he said. "Then--what--then--why? And you -really mean that you can be friends with me?" - -"That's just what I do mean," Charliewood answered; "and now we've got -to the point, I will tell you frankly that though our meeting was a pure -accident in the first place, I am awfully glad that we did meet and that -you are here to-night. I have talked the whole matter over with poor -dear Sir William a good deal lately. He has done me the honour to make -me his confidant in the matter. Two or three days ago I mentioned that I -knew you." - -"What did he say?" Rathbone asked quickly. - -"I can't tell you his words," Charliewood answered, "but I can tell you -their purpose. And it was a wonderful revelation to me of the strength -and beauty of my old friend's character. He's a fine fellow, Rathbone, -and when you know him you'll say so too." - -"Know him?" Rathbone said. "My dear Charliewood, surely you see that -it's impossible that I should meet a man to whom I have unconsciously -done such a great injury." - -"Ah," Charliewood answered, "you don't know William. It is just the -possibility which makes his character so fine. Practically, what he said -to me was this. 'You know this young fellow, Eustace. Is he a decent -sort of man? A gentleman in ideas, as well as in position, clean living -and all that?' 'As far as I know,' I answered, 'he's just so in every -way.'" - -Once more Rathbone coloured up to the eyes. - -Charliewood went on. - -"Then William unburdened himself to me fully. 'I only want Marjorie -Poole to be happy,' he said, 'and when the proper time arrives I shall -just write and tell her so. I was fond of her, deeply fond of her; what -man would not be? I thought if she cared for me that she would be a -worthy mistress of my house, and an ideal partner to share my fortune -and the position I have won. But I am much older than she is. I am -immersed, as you know, in grave, scientific pursuits, and I quite -realize that I could not give her what as a young girl she has a right -to expect. I don't say that I relinquish my claim upon her without a -pang, but I have other interests, and my wife and love could in any case -only be a part of my life. Do you know what I should like to do more -than anything else, Eustace?' 'What?' I said. 'Why,' he continued, 'to -meet this young Mr. Rathbone. To tell him all that I am telling you, -perfectly frankly, to shake him by the hand, and, by Jove, to be the -best man at his wedding, if he'd let me. Then I shall get back to my -inventions with a quiet mind, knowing that the only girl who has ever -touched me in the least degree is safe and happy.'" - -Rathbone pushed back his chair and jumped up. - -"Why, heavens," he said, "what a noble fellow! There's a _man_, if you -like. I can quite see it all, Charliewood, and you've relieved my mind -of a tremendous weight. I can see it all quite distinctly. One of the -most distinguished and charming men of the day sees a beautiful and -intellectual girl and thinks the time has come when he must marry. Of -course, he can't really know what _love_ is, like a younger man or a man -who has not made his mark in the world. He can't feel what I feel, for -instance. And so he bows to the inevitable, and in the kindest and most -chivalrous way wants to make every one happy. Charliewood! It's just -like a story-book!" - -"I don't read 'em myself much, the papers do for me. But, 'pon my soul, -since you put it in that way, so it is." - -Mr. Charliewood quite forgot to add what sort of story-book. Even the -most popular novels of to-day don't always have the traditional happy -ending. - -"Sit down, old fellow," Charliewood said with great kindness. "You -mustn't miss this chicken, it is a rather special dish, and I'm going to -ring for William." - -"Oh, hang chicken!" Rathbone answered, his face glowing. - -"Never abuse your dinner," Charliewood answered. "Only people who are -not able to dine do that. You never know when you may dine again." - -As he said this the wicked exhilaration at having successfully played -with sure and dexterous fingers upon this young and impressionable -nature flowed over the older man. An evil joy in his own powers came to -him--a devilish satisfaction in his knowledge of the horrid future. For -a moment the Tenant who had lately taken up his abode within Mr. Eustace -Charliewood was looking out of his host's eye. - -Rathbone laughed carelessly. Then, after the waiter had once more -entered and left the room, he bent over the table and began to speak -more earnestly. - -"I suspect," he said, "that I owe you a great deal in this matter, -Charliewood, more than you would care to confess. Now tell me, don't I?" - -Charliewood waved his hand. - -"Oh, we won't go into that part of the question," he said. "But there's -just one thing I would like to say. Your feeling in the matter has been -quite splendid, Rathbone. I admire you for the way you have felt and -spoken since you have been telling me about your engagement, from first -to last. Such a lot of men would have congratulated themselves upon -winning the girl away from the other fellow without a thought of what -the other fellow would feel. Now look here, I do think you owe William -this much reparation----" - -"Anything in the world I can do----" Rathbone was beginning. - -"Well, there's one thing you can do," Charliewood answered, "you can -satisfy him that you're the sort of man to whom he would care to -surrender Miss Poole. He is willing and anxious to make friends with -you. In fact, I know he is most anxious to meet you. I admit that it may -be rather an awkward meeting for you, but I think that you owe it to -him, considering the way in which he regards the whole affair." - -"Of course I will meet him," Rathbone answered. "I shall be proud to -meet a man like that. Any time you like." - -"Well, I don't want to press things, Rathbone; but, personally, I should -say there was no time like the present. We are sure to find -Gouldesbrough in to-night after dinner. Suppose we walk up to Regent's -Park and call on him. I know you will be received in the kindest way, in -a way you never suspected before we talked the matter over." - -"We'll do it," Rathbone answered, "and I shall leave his house to-night -feeling a great burden has been removed from me." - -Charliewood made no answer to this last remark but merely pushed the -champagne-bottle over to his guest. - - * * * * * - -An hour afterwards the two men, both with the astrachan coats which -brought them so curiously together turned up about their ears, were -walking briskly towards Oxford Street. The fog was very heavy and few -people were about, though Charliewood said he knew exactly how to find -the way. - -"You needn't worry," he said, "we'll go up Portland Place, and I can -find Sir William's house without the least trouble. In fact, I think it -would be a mistake to take a hansom on a night like this. The roads are -horribly greasy. You can't see the lights of any vehicle a few yards -ahead, and we're just as likely to be run into as not. Of course, if -you'd rather ride----" - -"Not a bit," Rathbone answered, "exercise will do me good, and I shall -feel calmer and more prepared for the interview. I'm not a sybarite like -you are, and after a dinner like you've given me I should not be nearly -in such good form unless I did have a walk." - -"Right oh!" Charliewood replied; "then come along. We will walk fast to -keep warm." - -They went on, neither talking much, because of the thick fog that stung -the nostrils and the eyes and poured down the throat when the mouth was -opened. - -In about three-quarters of an hour they had passed up Portland Place, -turned to the left and were drawing near the house they sought. - -"It's not very far now," Charliewood said. - -He shook as he said so, and his voice had a very muffled sound. - -"Don't you talk, old fellow," Rathbone answered. "I can see you're cold, -and this fog plays the deuce with the lungs. Do keep quiet; there's no -need to say anything. I'll follow where you lead." - -They stood at last before the little door in the high wall of Sir -William Gouldesbrough's house. - -In the distance the faint rumble of London came to their ears, but there -was not a soul about. Nobody saw them as Charliewood opened the door -with a pass-key, explaining to Rathbone that Sir William had given him -the key in order to save the servants coming through the garden. - -"I'm always in and out of the house," he explained, still with the cold -and fog in his voice. - -They opened the door, and it clicked behind them. - -Rathbone brushed against some laurel bushes. - -"I say," he said, "how dark it is here! You must conduct me, -Charliewood, up this path. Let me take your arm." - -He took his friend's arm, noticing with wonder how the cold seemed to -have penetrated the bones of his host; for the big man's whole body was -trembling. - -The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked for thirty yards -or so. Then Rathbone saw a dim light above his head. It was the lamp -which hung in the porch. His feet knocked against the step. - -"Here we are," Charliewood said; "six steps, and then the front door." - -Once more Charliewood produced a key, opened the massive door of the -hall, and entered with his friend. - -"Take off your coat," he said, as Rathbone looked round wonderingly at -the big, gloomy and dimly-lit place. "This is rather miserable, but -Gouldesbrough has got a little snuggery down the passage, where we shall -be quite comfortable. Are you ready? Very well, then, come along." - -The house seemed absolutely still, save for Charliewood's echoing -footsteps as he led the way towards the door on the right-hand side of -the wide staircase. - -Rathbone followed him. As he did so the sombre emptiness of the place -began to steal over his nerves and influence them, coupled, no doubt, -with the expectation of the coming interview. - -He shuddered a little, and wished that he was back again in the cosy -little room in Jermyn Street. - -Then a green baize door opened, they passed through, and it swung back -noiselessly behind them. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -ENGLAND'S GREAT SENSATION - - -In the course of a week or so London, and shortly afterwards the whole -of England, realized that a new and absorbing sensation was dawning. - -Perhaps there is nothing which more excites the popular mind than the -sudden disappearance of anybody from whatever class of society. - -It began to be realized, whispered and hinted at in the newspapers that -a young and rising barrister of good family, named Mr. Guy Rathbone, of -the Inner Temple, had suddenly vanished. It was but a year or two before -that the whole of the country had been thrilled by the sad case of Miss -Hickman. The event and the excitement it had raised at the time were -still fresh in the public mind; and when it began to be rumoured that -something even more sensational than that had taken place, the Press -began to be on the alert. In ten days' time such as were known of the -facts of Mr. Guy Rathbone's apparent departure from ordinary life had -become the topic of the hour. The newspapers were filled with columns of -surmises. Hour by hour, as the evening papers of London and the -provinces appeared, new theories, clues, explanations filled the leader -pages and the contents' bills. The "Rathbone Mystery," as it was called, -absorbed the whole interest of the country. An announcement of war would -have been momentarily disregarded by the man in the street, while he yet -remained unsatisfied as to the truth about the young gentleman who -seemed to have been utterly wiped out from the world of men and women, -to have vanished into thin air without a trace of his movements or a -single clue as to his whereabouts. - -All that was accurately known was summed up again and again in the Press -and in general conversation, and it amounted to just this and no more. - -Mr. Guy Rathbone was in fairly prosperous circumstances; he had an -income of his own, was slowly but steadily climbing the laborious ladder -of the Bar, was popular in society, and, as far as could be ascertained, -had no troubles of any sort whatever. - -It was shown that Rathbone was not in debt, and practically owed nothing -whatever, except the ordinary current accounts, which he was accustomed -to settle every quarter. He had a fair balance at the bank, and his -securities, which provided him with his income, were intact. His life -had been a singularly open one. His movements had never suggested -anything secret or disreputable. His friends were all people in good -circumstances, and no one had ever alleged any shady acquaintances -against him. He was in perfect health, was constantly in the habit of -taking exercise at the German Gymnasium, still played football -occasionally, and held a commission in the Inns of Court Volunteers. He -had never been observed to be downcast or despondent in any way. In -short, there was no earthly reason, at any rate upon the surface, for a -voluntary withdrawal on his part from the usual routine of his life. - -The idea of suicide was frankly scouted by both friends, acquaintances -and business connections. People do not destroy themselves without a -real or imaginary reason, and this young man had always been regarded as -so eminently healthy-minded and sane, that no one was prepared to -believe even that he had made away with himself in a sudden fit of -morbidity or madness. It was shown that there had been no taint of -insanity in his family for several generations. The theory of suicide -was clearly untenable. This was the conclusion to which journalists, -police, and the new class of scientific mystery experts which has sprung -up during the last few years unanimously came. Moreover, in the London -of to-day, or even in the country, it is a most difficult thing for a -man to commit suicide without the more or less immediate discovery of -his remains. - -There was not wanting the class of people who hinted at foul play. But -that theory was immensely narrowed by the fact that no one could have -had any motive for murdering this young man, save only a member of the -criminal classes, who did so for personal gain. It was quite true that -he might have been robbed and his body cunningly disposed of. Such -things have happened, such things do, though very rarely, happen in the -London of to-day. But the class of criminal who makes a practice and -livelihood of robbery with violence, of attempted or actual murder, is a -small class. Every member of it is intimately known to the police, and -Scotland Yard was able to discover no single suspicious movement of this -or that criminal who might reasonably be concerned in such an affair. -Moreover, it was pointed out that such criminals were either invariably -brought to justice or that, at any rate, the _fact_ that some one or -other unknown has committed a murder is invariably discovered within a -week or so of the occurrence. - -For fourteen days the hundreds of people engaged in trying to solve this -mystery had found no single indication of foul play. - -Where, then, was Guy Rathbone? Was he alive? was he dead? Nobody was -prepared to say. - -The one strange circumstance which seemed to throw a tiny light upon the -mystery was this. For a fortnight or so before his disappearance, Mr. -Rathbone, usually in the habit of going a good deal to dinner-parties, -dances, and so on, had declined all invitations. Many people who had -invited him to this or that function now came forward and announced that -their invitations had been declined, as Mr. Rathbone had said he was -going out of town for a short time. Inquiries in the Temple showed that -Mr. Rathbone had not been out of town at all. He had remained almost -entirely in his chambers, and even his appearances in the Law Courts, -where he had only done three days' actual work for the last week or two, -had been less frequent than usual. - -Rathbone was in the habit of being attended to by a woman who came early -in the morning, lit the fires, prepared his bath and breakfast, and then -swept the chambers. The woman generally arrived at seven and left about -twelve, returning again for an hour about six in the evening, to make up -the fires and do anything else that might be required. Rathbone either -lunched in the Inner Temple or in one of the Fleet Street restaurants. -If not dining out, he generally took this meal at the Oxford and -Cambridge Club, of which he was a member. - -The waiters in the Temple Hall said that his attendance had not been -quite as regular as usual in the fortnight or so before his -disappearance, but they certainly thought that they had seen him every -other day or so. - -The woman who looked after the chambers stated that Mr. Rathbone had -remained indoors a good deal more than usual, seeming to be engrossed in -law books. On several occasions when she had arrived at six in the -evening, she had found that he did not require his dress clothes put -out, and had asked her to bring him in some sandwiches or some light -food of that description, as he intended to work alone far into the -night. - -These slight divergencies from his ordinary habits were, every one -agreed, significant of something. But what that something was nobody -knew, and the wild suggestions made on all sides seemed to provide no -real solution. - -The last occasion upon which Mr. Rathbone had been seen by any one able -to report the occurrence was in the early morning at breakfast. Mrs. -Baker, the bed-maker, had cooked the breakfast as usual, and had asked -her master if he would excuse her attendance in the evening, as she had -a couple of orders for the Adelphi, in return for displaying the bills -of the theatre in a little shop she kept with her daughter in a street -off Holborn. - -"My master seemed in his usual spirits," the good woman had said in an -interview with a member of the staff of the _Westminster Gazette_. "He -gave me permission at once to go to the theatre, and said that he -himself would be out that evening. There was no trace of anything -unusual in his manner. When I arrived in the morning and opened the -outer doors of the chambers with my pass key, I went into the study and -the sitting-room as usual, lit two fires, turned on the bath, made a cup -of tea and took it to Mr. Rathbone's bedroom. There was no answer to my -knock, and when I opened the door and went in, thinking he was -over-sleeping himself, I found the bed had not been slept in. This was -very unusual in a gentleman of Mr. Rathbone's regular habits. It would -not have attracted my notice in the case of some gentlemen I have been -in the habit of doing for, who were accustomed to stay out without any -intimation of the fact. But I did think it strange in the case of Mr. -Guy, always a very steady gentleman. I waited about till nearly one -o'clock, and he did not return. I then went home, and did not go to the -chambers again till six o'clock, when I found things in the same state -as before, the fires burnt out, and no trace of anybody having entered. -As I left the Inn I asked the porter if he had seen Mr. Rathbone, and he -replied that he had not returned. The same thing happened for the next -two days, when the porter communicated with the authorities of the Inn, -and an inspector of police was called in." - -The interview disclosed few more facts of importance, save only one. -This was that Mr. Rathbone had dressed for dinner on the night of his -disappearance. His evening clothes were not in the wardrobe, and the -morning suit he had been wearing at breakfast was neatly folded and -placed upon a chest of drawers ready for Mrs. Baker to brush it. - -This seemed to show indubitably that the barrister had no thought of -being absent from home that night. - -There the matter had rested at first. Meanwhile, as no new discovery was -made, and not the slightest ray of light seemed to be forthcoming, the -public interest was worked up to fever heat. Rathbone had few relations, -though many friends. His only surviving relative appeared to be his -uncle, a brother of his mother, who was the Dean of Bexeter. The -clergyman was interviewed, and stated that he generally received a -letter from his nephew every three weeks or so, but nothing in the most -recent letter had been unusual, and that he was as much in the dark as -any ordinary member of the public. - -This much was known to the man in the street. But in society, while the -comment and amazement was no less in intensity, much more was known than -the outside world suspected. - -For some time past every one had remarked the apparent and growing -intimacy between the lost man and Miss Marjorie Poole, who was engaged -to the famous scientist, Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S. How far -matters had gone between the young couple was only conjectured, but at -the moment of Rathbone's disappearance it was generally believed that -Miss Poole was about to throw over Sir William for his young rival--this -was the elegant way in which men talked in the clubs and women in their -drawing-rooms. - -Nothing is hidden now-a-days, and the fierce light of publicity beats -upon the doings of the countess and the coster-monger alike. The -countess may, perhaps, preserve a secret a little longer than the -coster-monger, and that is the only difference between them in this -regard. - -Accordingly, on the fifteenth or sixteenth day of the mystery, a -sensational morning paper published a special article detailing what -professed to be an entirely new light upon the situation. If statements -affecting the private and intimate life of anybody can be called in good -taste, the article was certainly written with a due regard to -proprieties, and with an obvious attempt to avoid hurting the feelings -of any one. But, as it was pointed out in a prefatory note, the whole -affair had passed from the regions of private life into the sphere of -national interest, and therefore it was the duty of a journal to give to -the world all and every fact which had any bearing upon the affair, -without fear or favour. - -This last article, which created a tremendous sensation, was in -substance as follows:-- - -It hinted that a young lady of great charm, and moving in the highest -circles, a young lady who had been engaged for some little time to one -of the most distinguished Englishmen of the day, had lately been much -seen with the vanished man. The gossip of society had hinted that this -could mean nothing more or less than the young lady had been mistaken in -the first disposal of her affections, and was about to make a change. - -How did this bear upon the situation? - -During the next day or two, though no names were actually printed, it -became generally known who the principal characters in the supposed -little drama of love really were. Everybody spoke freely of old Sir -Frederick Poole's distinguished daughter, of Lady Poole of Curzon -Street, and of Sir William Gouldesbrough. - -When the article first appeared everybody began to say, "Ah, now we -shall have the whole thing cleared up." But as the days went on people -began to realize that the new facts threw little new light upon the -mystery, and only provided a possible motive for Mr. Guy Rathbone's -suicide. And then once more people were compelled to ask themselves if -Mr. Rathbone really was in love with Miss Poole, and had found that -either she would have nothing to say to him, or that she was inevitably -bound to Sir William Gouldesbrough in honour. Then when, how and where -did he make away with himself? - -And to that question there was absolutely no answer. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE CHIVALROUS BARONET - - -Lady Poole and her daughter had been living in rooms in the great Palace -Hotel at Brighton for a fortnight. - -Marjorie, utterly broken down by the terrible mystery that enveloped -her, and shrinking from the fierce light that began to beat upon the -details of her private life, had implored her mother to take her from -London. - -There had been a terrible scene between the old lady and her daughter -when, the day after Marjorie had written to Sir William Gouldesbrough -telling him that she could not marry him, she had confessed the truth to -Lady Poole. - -In her anger and excitement the elder woman had said some bitter and -terrible things. She was transformed for a space from the pleasant and -easy-going society dame into something hard, furious, and even coarse. -Marjorie had shrunk in amazement and fear from the torrent of her -mother's wrath. And finally she had been able to bear it no longer, and -had lost consciousness. - -Allowances should be made for the dowager. She was a worldly woman, good -and kind as far as she went, but purely worldly and material. The hope -of her life had seemed gained when her daughter became engaged to Sir -William. The revelation that, after all, the engagement was now broken, -was nothing more than a delusion, and that a younger and ineligible man, -from the worldly point of view, had won Marjorie's affection, was a -terrible blow to the woman of the world. All her efforts seemed useless. -The object of her life, so recently gained, so thoroughly enjoyed, was -snatched away from her in a sudden moment. - -But when Marjorie had come to herself again, and the doctor had been -summoned to treat her for a nervous shock, she found her mother once -more the kindly and loved parent of old. Lady Poole had been frightened -at her own violence, and repented bitterly for what she had said. She -tended and soothed the girl in the sweetest and most motherly way. And -without disguising from Marjorie the bitter blow the girl's decision was -to her, she told her that she was prepared to accept the inevitable, and -to re-organize all her ideas for the future. - -And then had come the black mystery of Guy's utter vanishing from the -world of men and women. - -Lady Poole had always been fond of Guy Rathbone, and now, by a curious -contradiction of nature, when she had schooled herself to realize that -it was on this man her daughter's life was centred, the old lady was -terribly and genuinely affected at Guy's disappearance. No one could -have been more helpful or more sympathetic during these black hours, and -she gladly left Curzon Street for Brighton, in order that she might be -alone with her daughter and endeavour to bring her back in some measure -to happiness, or, if not happiness, to interest in life. - -Soon after Marjorie had written her letter to Sir William, Lady Poole -had received a reply from the scientist, enclosing a short note for her -daughter. - -It had been a wonderful letter. The writer said that he could not -disguise from himself that he had seen, or at least suspected, the way -things were going. - - "Terrible," he said, "as this letter of your daughter's has been to - me, it would yet ill-become me not to receive it as a man. I had - hoped and believed that a very happy life was in store for me with - Marjorie and for her with me. Then I saw that it was not to be, and - Marjorie's letter comes as no surprise, but as only the definite - and final end of my dream. Dear Lady Poole, do realize that, - despite all this, it will always be my duty and my privilege to be - the friend of you and of your daughter if you and she will permit - me to be so. I have told her so often how I love her, and I tell - her so even now. But love, as I understand it, should have the - element of self-sacrifice in it, if it is true love. I will - therefore say no more about my personal feelings, except in one - way. Just as my whole life would have been devoted to making your - daughter happy, so I now feel it is my duty to devote myself as - well as I can to making her happy in another way. She has chosen a - man no doubt more worthy to be her husband than I should ever be. - You will forgive a natural weakness if I say no more on this point, - but the great fact is that she has chosen. Therefore, I say that my - only wish is for her life-long happiness, and that all my - endeavours, such as they are, will be still devoted to that end. - Let them be happy, let them be together. And if I can promote their - happiness, even though my own heart may be broken, believe me, dear - Lady Poole, it is my most fervent wish. - - "Will you give Marjorie the enclosed little note of farewell? I - shall not trouble her more, until perhaps some day in the future we - may still be friends, though fate and her decision have forbidden - me to be anything more to her than just that. - - "Believe me, my dear Lady Poole, - "In great sorrow and in sincere friendship, - "WILLIAM GOULDESBROUGH." - -So the two ladies had gone to Brighton, and while the press of the -United Kingdom was throbbing with excitement, while hundreds of people -were endeavouring to solve the terrible mystery of Guy Rathbone's -disappearance, the girl more nearly interested in it than any one else -in the world stayed quietly with her mother at the pleasant sea-side -town, and was not molested by press or public. - -Marjorie had become, even in these few days, a ghost of her former self. -The light had faded out of her eyes, they had ceased to appear -transparent and had become opaque. Her beautifully chiselled lips now -drooped in pathetic and habitual pain, her pallor was constant and -unvarying. She drank in the keen sea breezes, and they brought no colour -to her cheeks. She walked upon the white chalk cliffs and saw nothing of -the shifting gold and shadow as the sun fell upon the sea, heard nothing -of the harmonies of the Channel winds. Her whole heart was full of a -passionate yearning and a terrible despair; she was like a stately -flower that had been put out of its warm and sheltered home into an icy -blast, and was withered and blackened in an hour. - -Kind as her mother was, Marjorie felt that there was nobody now left to -lean upon, to confide in. A girl of her temperament needs some stronger -arm than any woman can provide, to help and comfort, to keep awake the -fires of hope within her, and nothing of the sort was hers. In all the -world she seemed to have no one to confide in, no one to lean upon, no -one who would give her courage and hope for the black and impenetrable -future. - -At the end of the first fortnight, Marjorie knew, though her mother only -just referred to the matter, that letters were daily arriving from Sir -William Gouldesbrough. - -One evening Lady Poole, unable to keep the news from her daughter any -longer, told her of these communications. - -"I dare say, darling," the old lady said, "I may give you pain, but I -think you really ought to know how wonderfully poor dear William is -behaving in this sad affair. Though it must be terribly hard for him, -though it must fill him with a pain that I can only guess at, he is -moving heaven and earth to discover what has become of your poor boy. He -is daily writing to me to tell me what he is doing, to inform me of his -hopes, and I tell you, Marjorie, that if human power can discover what -has happened to Guy, William Gouldesbrough will discover it. Do realize, -dear, what a noble thing this is in the man you have rejected. Whenever -I receive his letters I can't help crying a little, it seems so noble, -so touching, and so beautiful of him." - -Marjorie was sitting at the table. The ladies dined in their private -rooms, and it was after the meal. Her head was in her hands and her eyes -were full of tears. She looked up as her mother said this, with a white, -wan face. - -"Ah, yes, dear," she replied, "there is no doubt of that, William was -always noble. He is as great in heart as he is in intellect. He is -indeed one of the chosen and best. Don't think I don't realize it, -mother, now you've told me, indeed I _do_ realize it. My whole heart is -filled with gratitude towards him. No one else would have done as much -in his position." - -"You do feel that, do you, dear?" Lady Poole said. - -"Oh, indeed I do," she answered, "though I fear that even he, great as -his intellect is, will never disperse this frightful, terrible -darkness." - -Lady Poole got up and came round to where her daughter was sitting. She -put her hand upon the shining coil of hair and said-- - -"Dear, do you think that you could bear to see him?" - -"To see William?" Marjorie answered quickly with a curious catch in her -voice. - -"Yes, darling, to see William. Would it give you too much pain?" - -"But how, why, what for?" - -"Oh, not to revive any memories of the past, there is nothing further -from his thoughts. But this morning he wrote me the very sweetest -letter, saying that in this crisis he might be able to give you a little -comfort." - -"Has he discovered anything, then?" Marjorie asked. - -"I fear not as yet. But he says that at this moment you must feel very -much alone. As you know, he is doing all that a mortal man can. Of -course, I have told him how broken you are by it all, and he thinks that -perhaps you might like to hear what he is doing, might like to confide -in him a little. 'If,' he says in his letter, 'she will receive me as a -brother, whose only wish is to help her in this terrible trial, can I -say how proud and grateful I shall be to come to her and tell her what I -can?'" - -Marjorie gave a great sob. It was too much. In her nervous and weak -condition the gentle and kindly message her mother had given her was -terribly affecting. - -"How good he is!" she murmured. "Yes, mother, if only he would come I -should like to see him." - -"Then, my dear," Lady Poole replied, "that is very easily arranged, for -he is in the hotel to-night." - -Marjorie started. Her mother went to a side table on which was a little -portable telephone. She held the receiver to her ear, and when the clerk -from the down-stairs office replied, asked that Sir William -Gouldesbrough should be told at once that Lady Poole would be very glad -to see him in Number 207. - -Marjorie rose and began to pace the room. A growing excitement mastered -her, her hands twitched, her eyes were dilated. Perhaps she was at last -going to hear something, something definite, something new, about Guy. - -There was a knock at the door. A waiter opened it, and Sir William -Gouldesbrough came into the room. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -GRATITUDE OF MISS MARJORIE POOLE - - -As the man to whom she had been engaged came into the room, Marjorie -rose to meet him. She was not embarrassed, the hour and occasion were -too serious for that, and she herself was too broken down for any -emotions save those that were intensely real and came from an anguished -heart. She went up to him, all pale and drooping, and took him by the -hand. - -"Thank you, William," she said in a low voice, and that was all. - -But in her words Gouldesbrough realized all that she was powerless to -say. He heard, with an inward thrill and leap of the pulses, an immense -respect for him, which, even in the days of their engagement, he had -never heard. - -Always, Marjorie had reverenced his attainments, never had she seemed to -be so near to him as a _man_ as now. - -He looked straight into her eyes, nor did his own flinch from her -direct and agonized gaze. The frightful power of his dominating will, -the horrible strength of his desire, the intensity of his purpose, -enabled him to face her look without a sign of tremor. - -He, this man with a marvellous intellect and a soul unutterably stained -by the most merciless perfidy, was yet able to look back at her with a -kind, sorrowful, and touching glance. - -Gouldesbrough wore no metal helmet which should make the horror of his -thoughts and knowledge plain for Marjorie to see. The man who had -committed a crime as foul and sinister as ever crime was yet, the man -who was responsible for the pale face of the girl he loved, the drooping -form, the tearful eyes, yet smiled back at her with a mask of patient -resignation, deference, and chivalry. - -"I am so glad you've come, William," Lady Poole said; "and I'm sure, -distressing as all these circumstances are, we cannot thank you enough -for what you have done and are doing. No one else in your position would -have done so much. And on Marjorie's behalf and on my own I thank you -with a full heart." - -Sir William bowed. - -Then Lady Poole, voluble as she usually was, and unabashed in almost -every circumstance hesitated a little. The situation was certainly very -delicate, almost unparalleled, indeed, and it was certainly quite -outside even her wide experience. But her voice had a genuine ring of -thankfulness and gratitude, and the real woman emerged from the veneer -of worldliness and baffled ambition. - -There was a pause for a moment, no one of the three spoke a single word. -Then Lady Poole, by an intuition, said and did exactly the right -thing--perhaps old Sir Frederick's "hobby of tact" had not been without -its use after all! She sank into a chair. - -"There's no need for any explanation, I can see that," she said with a -sigh of relief. "With any other man it would have been so different, but -it's all right, William, I can see it in your manner and in your -presence here. Then let me say once and for all, that both Marjorie and -I feel at last we have got some one with us who will help us. We have -been terribly alone. We have both felt it most poignantly. After all, -women do want a man in a crisis! You, dear William, are the last man we -should have thought of asking to help us, and yet you are the first man -who has come to do so." - -"Dear Lady Poole," Gouldesbrough answered in a quiet voice, "I think -perhaps I see a little of what you mean. I am not sure, but I think I -do. And I regard it as the greatest privilege and honour to come to you -with an offer of help and assistance in your trouble." - -He turned to the younger lady. - -"Marjorie," he said, "you must treat me just like a brother now. You -must forget all that has passed between us, and just lean on me, rely on -me, use me. Nothing could make me more happy than just that." - -Lady Poole rose again. Who shall say in the volatile brain of the good -dame that already in the exhilaration of Sir William's presence and -kindness, new hopes and ambitions were not reviving? Lady Poole was a -woman, and she was an opportunist too. Woman-like, her mind moved fast -into an imaginary future; it had always done so. And it is possible that -upon the clouded horizon of her hopes a faint star began to twinkle once -more. - -Who shall blame Lady Poole? - -"Now, my dears," she said in a more matter of fact voice, "I think -perhaps you might be happier in discussing this matter if I were to go -away. Under the circumstances, I am perfectly aware that it's not the -correct thing to do, but that is speaking only from a conventional -standpoint, and none of us here can be conventional at a moment like -this. If you would rather have me stay, just say so. But it is with -pride and pleasure that I know that I can leave you with Marjorie, -William, even under these miserable circumstances and in this unhappy -business." - -Gouldesbrough smiled sadly. - -"It is as Marjorie wishes," he said. "But I know that Marjorie knows she -can trust me." - -The great man saw that once more the girl lifted her eyes and looked at -him with something which was almost like reverence. Never before had he -seen her look at him like this. Once more the evil joy in the -possibility of victory after all leapt through his blood. - -No thought nor realization of the terrible thing he had done, of the -horrors that he and the pink-faced man in Regent's Park were even now -perfecting, came to trouble that moment of evil pride. Everybody had -always said, everybody who had been brought into contact with him, -always knew that Sir William Gouldesbrough was a strong man! - -Lady Poole waited a moment to see if her daughter made any sign of -wishing her to remain, and finding that there was none, for Marjorie was -standing with drooping head and made no movement, the dowager swept out -of the room with rustling skirts, and gently closed the door. - -Sir William and Marjorie were left alone. - -The man of action asserted himself. - -"Sit down, Marjorie," he said in a commonplace tone, "and just let me -talk to you on pure matters of fact. Now, my dear, we haven't seen each -other since you wrote me the letter telling me that our engagement was a -mistake. You know what my reply to that was, and I believe and trust you -know that I shall remain perfectly true to both the spirit and actual -words of that communication. That's all we need say now, except just -this: I loved you dearly and I love you dearly now. I had hoped that we -might have been very happy together and that I might have spent my life -in your service. But that was not to be in the way that I had hoped. At -the same time, I am not a man easily moved or changed, and if I cannot -be yours in one way, dear girl, I will be yours in another. However, -that's all about that. Now, then, let me tell you how hard I have been -trying to discover the truth of this astounding disappearance of poor -Mr. Guy Rathbone." - -A low sob came from the girl in the chair. It was a sob not only of -regret for her lost lover, but it had the same note of reverence, of -utter appreciation, of her first words. - -"You are too good," she said. "William, I have treated you horribly -badly. You are too good. Oh, you are _too_ good!" - -"Hush!" he said in a sharp staccato voice. "We agreed that aspect of -the question wasn't to be spoken of any more. The past is the past, and, -my dear little girl, I beg you to realize it. You loved poor Guy -Rathbone, and he seems to have been wiped out of ordinary life. My -business is to find him again for you, so that you may be happy. I have -been trying to do the utmost in my power for days. I have done -everything that my mind could suggest, and as yet nothing has occurred. -Now, Marjorie, let's just be business-like. Tell me what you think about -the matter, and I will tell you what I think. See if our two brains -cannot hit on something which will help us." - -"William," she said with a full note, a chord rather, of deep pain in -her voice--"William, I don't know what to think. I can't understand it. -I am lost in utter darkness. There seems no possible reason why he -should have gone away. I can only think that the worst has happened, and -that some terrible people must have killed him." - -"But why?" - -"Oh," she answered almost hysterically, "he was so beautiful and so -strong. They must have killed him because he was so different to other -men." She did not see the tall man who sat before her wince and quiver. -She did not see his face change and contort itself into malignancy. She -did not realize that these innocent words, wrung from a simple -distressed and loving heart, meant awful things for the man she longed -for. - -"But, Marjorie," the voice came steady and strong, "you know that is -just a little fantastic, if you will forgive me for saying so. People -don't go about injuring other people because they are better-looking or -have finer natures than themselves. They only say unkind things about -them, they don't kill them, you know." - -"Oh, of course, you are right, William," she answered, "and I hardly -know what I'm saying, the pain of it all is so great. But then, there -_is_ nothing to say. I can't understand, I can hardly realize what has -happened." - -"For my part," Sir William answered, "I have left no stone unturned to -discover the truth. I have been in communication with every force or -agency which might be able to explain the thing. And no one has given me -the slightest hint, except perhaps----" - -She leapt up from her chair, her pale face changed. - -"Yes?" she cried, "What is it? What is that?" - -Her breath came thick and fast. Sir William remained sitting in his -chair and his head was bowed. - -"Sit down, Marjorie," he answered; "I didn't mean to say that." - -"But you said it," she replied. "Ah! my ears are very keen, and there -was something in your voice which had meaning. William, what is it? What -is it?" - -"Nothing," he answered in a deep, decisive voice. - -But the voice brought no conviction to her ears. She had detected, or -thought she had detected, the note of an inner knowledge when he had -first spoken. She crossed the room with rapid strides and laid her white -hand upon his shoulder. - -"You've _got_ to tell me," she said imperiously. And her touch thrilled -him through and through with an exquisite agony and an exquisite joy. - -"It's nothing," he repeated. - -Now there was less conviction than ever in his voice. She laughed -hysterically. "William," she said, "I know you so well, you can't hide -anything from me. There's something you can tell me. Whatever it may be, -good or bad, you've just _got_ to tell me." - -At that he looked up at her, and his face, she saw, was drawn and -frightened. - -"Marjorie," he said, "don't let any words of mine persuade you into any -belief. Since you ask me I must say what I have got to say. But mind -you, I am in no way convinced myself that what I am going to tell you is -more than mere idle supposition." - -"Tell me," she whispered, and her voice hissed like escaping steam. - -"Well, it's just this," he said, "and it's awfully hard for me even to -hint such a thing to you. But, you know, Rathbone had recently made -rather a friend of poor Eustace Charliewood. I like Charliewood; you -never did. A man's point of view and a girl's point of view are quite -different about a man. But of course I can't pretend that Charliewood is -exactly, well--er--what you might call--I don't know quite how to put -it, Marjorie." - -"I know," she said with a shudder of disgust "I know. Go on." - -"Well, just before Rathbone disappeared those two seemed to have been -about together a good deal, and of course Charliewood is a man who has -some rather strange acquaintances, especially in the theatrical world. -That is to say, in the sub-theatrical world. Marjorie, I hardly know how -to put it to you, and I think I had better stop." - -"Go on!" she cried once more. - -"Well," he said wearily, "Rathbone was a good fellow, no doubt, but he -is a young man, and no girl really knows what the life of a young man -really is or may be. I know that Charliewood introduced Rathbone to a -certain girl. Oh, Marjorie, I can't go on, these suspicions are -unworthy." - -"Terribly unworthy," she cried, standing up to her full height, and then -in a moment she drooped to him, and once more she asked him to go on. - -He told her of certain meetings, saying that there could have been, of -course, no harm in them, skilfully hinting at this or that, and then -testifying to his utter disbelief in the suspicions that he himself had -provoked. She listened to him, growing whiter and whiter. At last his -hesitating speech died away into silence, and she stood looking at him. - -"It might be," she whispered, half to herself, "it might be, but I do -not think it _could_ be. No man could be so unutterably cruel, so -unutterably base. I have made you tell me this, William, and I know that -you yourself do not believe it. He could not be so wicked as to -sacrifice everything for one of those people." - -And then Sir William rose. - -"No," he said, "he couldn't. I feel it, though I don't know him. -Marjorie, no living man could leave you for one of the vulgar syrens of -the half world." - -She looked at him for a moment as he put the thing in plain language, -and then burst into a passion of weeping. - -"I can't bear any more, William," she said between her sobs. "Go now, -but find him. Oh, find him!" - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A MAN ABOUT TOWN PAYS A DEBT - - -The people in the luxurious smoking-room of the great Palace Hotel saw a -pale, ascetic-looking and very distinguished man come in to the -comfortable place and sit down upon a lounge. - -"Do you know who that is?" one man whispered to another, flicking the -ash off a cigar. - -"No; who is he?" his companion answered. - -"That's Sir William Gouldesbrough." - -"Oh, the great scientific Johnny, you mean." - -"Yes, they say that he is going to turn the world topsy-turvy before -he's done." - -"The world's good enough for me," was the reply, "and if I'd my way, -these people who invent things should all be taken out and shot. I'm -tired of inventions, they make life move too quickly. The good old times -were best, when it took eight hours to get from Brighton to London, and -one could not have telegrams from one's office to worry one." - -"Perhaps you're right," said the first man. "But still, people look at -things differently now-a-days. At any rate, Gouldesbrough is said to be -one of the leading men in England to-day." - -"He doesn't look happy over it," replied his companion. "He looks like a -death's-head." - -"Well, you know, he's mixed up in the Rathbone mystery in a sort of -way." - -"Oh yes, of course; he was engaged to the girl who chucked him over for -the Johnny who has disappeared, wasn't he?" - -"That's it. Just watch him, poor wretch; doesn't he look pipped?" - -"Upon my word, the perspiration's standing out on his forehead in beads. -He seems as if----" - -"As if he had been overworking and overeating. He wants a Turkish bath, -I expect. Now then, Jones, what do you really think about the fall in -South Africans? Will they recover in the next two months? That's what I -want to know; that's what I want to be certain of." - -Sir William had just left the up-stairs apartments of the Pooles. He had -rung for the lift and entered, without a word to the attendant, who had -glanced fearfully at the tall, pale man with the flashing eyes and the -wet face. Once or twice the lift-man noticed that the visitor raised his -hand to his neck above the collar and seemed to press upon it, and it -may have been fancy on the lift-man's part--though he was not an -imaginative person--but he seemed to hear a sound like a drum beating -under a blanket, and he wondered if the gentleman was troubled with -heart-disease. - -Gouldesbrough pressed the little electric bell upon the oak table in -front of him, and in a moment a waiter appeared. - -"Bring me a large brandy and soda," he said in a quiet voice. - -The waiter bowed and hurried away. - -The waiter did not know, being a foreigner, and unacquainted with the -tittle-tattle of the day, that Sir William Gouldesbrough, the famous -scientist, was generally known to be a practical teetotaller, and one -who abhorred the general use of alcoholic beverages. - -When the brandy came, amber in the electric lights of the smoking-room, -and with a piece of ice floating in the liquid, Sir William took a small -white tabloid from a bottle in his pocket and dropped it into the glass. -It fizzed, spluttered, and disappeared. - -Then he raised the tumbler to his lips, and as he did so the floating -ice tinkled against the sides of the glass like a tiny alarum. - -"Nerves gone," the stock-broking gentleman close by said to his friend, -with a wink. - -In five minutes or so, after he had lit a cigarette, Gouldesbrough rose -and left the smoking-room. He put on his coat in the hall and went out -of the front door. - -It was not yet late, and the huge crescent of electric lights, which -seemed to stretch right away beyond Hove to Worthing, gleamed like a -gigantic coronet. - -It was a clear night. The air was searching and keen, and it seemed to -steady the scientist as he walked down the steps and came out from under -the hotel portico on to the pavement. - -A huge round moon hung over the sea, which was moaning quietly. The -lights in front of the Alhambra Music Hall gleamed brightly, and on the -promenade by the side of the shore innumerable couples paced and -re-paced amid a subdued hum of talk and laughter. - -The pier stretched away into the water like a jewelled snake. It was -Brighton at ten o'clock, bright, gay, and animated. - -Sir William was staying at the Brighton Royal, the other great hotel -which towers up upon the front some quarter of a mile away from the -Palace, where Marjorie and Lady Poole were. - -He strode through the crowds, seeing nothing of them, hearing nothing -but the beat of his own heart. - -Even for a man so strong as he, the last hour had been terrible. Never -before in all his life, at the moment of realization when some great -scientific theory had materialized into stupendous fact, when first -Marjorie had promised to marry him--at any great crisis of his life--had -he undergone so furious a strain as this of the last hour. - -He came out of the Palace Hotel, knowing that he had carried out his -intentions with the most consummate success. He came out of it, -realizing that not half-a-dozen men in England could have done what he -had done, and as the keen air smote upon his face like a blow from the -flat of a sword, he realized also that not six men in England, walking -the pleasant, happy streets of any town, were so unutterably stained and -immeasurably damned as he. - -As he passed through the revolving glass doors of his own hotel, and the -hall-porters touched their caps, he exerted all the powers of his will. - -He would no longer remember or realize what he had done and what it -meant to him. He would only rejoice in his achievement, and he banished -the fear that comes even to the most evil when they know they have -committed an almost unpardonable sin. - -He did not use the lift to go to his sitting-room on the second floor; -he ran lightly up the stairs, wanting the exercise as a means of -banishing thought. - -He entered his own room, switched on the electric light, took off his -coat, and stood in front of the fire, stretching his arms in pure -physical weariness. - -Yes! That was over! Another step was taken. Once more he had progressed -a step towards his desire, in spite of the most adverse happenings and -the most forbidding aspects of fate. - -The unaccustomed brandy at the Palace Hotel, and the bromide solution he -had dropped into it, had calmed his nerves, and suddenly he laughed -aloud in the rich, silent room, a laugh of pure triumph and excitement. - -Even as the echoes of his voice died away, his eyes fell upon the table -and saw that there was a letter lying there addressed to him. The -address was written in a well-known handwriting. He took it up, tore -open the envelope and read the communication. - -It was this-- - - "I have been down here for several days, trying to escape from - London and the thoughts which London gives me. But it has been - quite useless. I saw to-day, quite by chance, in the hotel - register, that you have arrived here. I did not think that we were - ever likely to meet again, except in the most casual way. I hope - not. Since I have been here, the torture of my life has increased a - thousand-fold, and I have come to the conclusion that my life must - stop. I am not fit to live. I don't blame you too much, because if - I hadn't been a scoundrel and a wastrel all my life, I should never - have put myself in your hands. As far as your lights go, you have - acted well to me. You have paid me generously for the years of - dirty work I have done at your bidding. For what I have done - lately, you have made me financially free, and I shall die owing no - man a penny, and with no man, save you only, knowing that I die - without hope--lost, degraded and despairing. Don't think I blame - you, William Gouldesbrough, because I don't. When I was at Eton, I - was always a pleasure-loving little scug. I was the same at Oxford. - I have been the same in all my life in town. I have never been any - good to myself, and I have disappointed all the hopes my people had - for me. It's all been my own fault. Then I became entangled with - you, and I was too weak to resist the money you were prepared to - pay me for the things I have done for you. - - "But it's all over now. I have gone too far. I have helped you, and - am equally guilty with you, to commit a frightful crime. Lax as I - have always been, I can no longer feel I have any proper place - among men of my own sort. All I can say is that I am glad I shall - die without anybody knowing what I really am. - - "I write this note after dinner, and, finding the number of your - room from the hotel clerk, I leave it here for you to see. I am - going to make an end of it all in an hour or two, when I have - written a few notes to acquaintances and so on. I can't go on - living, Gouldesbrough, because night and day, day and night, I am - haunted by the thought of that poor young man you have got in your - foul house in Regent's Park. What you are doing to him I don't - know. The end of your revenge I can only guess at. But it is all so - horrible that I am glad to be done with life. I wish you good-bye; - and I wish to God--if there is really a God--that I had never - crossed your path and never been your miserable tool. - - "EUSTACE CHARLIEWOOD." - -As Sir William Gouldesbrough read this letter, his whole tall figure -became rigid. He seemed to stiffen as a corpse stiffens. - -Then, quite suddenly, he turned round and pushed the letter into the -depths of the glowing fire, pressing the paper down with the poker until -every vestige of it was consumed. - -He strode to the door of the room, opened it, came out into the wide -carpeted corridor and hurried up to the lift. - -He pressed the button and heard it ring far down below. - -In a minute or two there came the clash of the shutting doors, the -"chunk" of the hydraulic mechanism, and he saw the shadow of the -lift-roof rising up towards him. - -The attendant opened the door. - -"Will you take me up to the fourth floor, please," he said, "to Mr. -Eustace Charliewood's room?" - -"Mr. Charliewood, sir?" the man replied. "Oh, yes, I remember, number -408. Tall, clean-shaved gentleman." - -"That's him," Sir William said. "I have only just learnt that he has -been staying in the hotel. He is an old friend, and I had no idea he was -here." - -The iron doors clashed, the lift shot upward, and the attendant and Sir -William arrived at the fourth floor. - -"Down the corridor, sir, and the first turning on the right," the -lift-man said. "But perhaps I'd better show you." - -He ran the ironwork gates over their rollers and hurried down the -corridor with Sir William. They turned the corner, and the man pointed -to a door some fifteen yards away. - -"That's it, sir," he said. "That's Mr. Charliewood's room." - -Even as he spoke there was a sudden loud explosion which seemed to come -from the room to which he had pointed--a horrid crash in the warm, -richly-lit silence of the hotel. - -The man turned to Sir William with a white face. - -"Come on," he said, forgetting his politeness. "Something has happened. -Come, quick!" - -When they burst into the room they found the man about town lying upon -the hearth-rug with a little blue circle edged with crimson in the -centre of his forehead. The hands were still moving feebly, but what had -been Eustace Charliewood was no longer there. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -BEEF TEA AND A PHOSPHATE SOLUTION - - -Sir William Gouldesbrough remained in Brighton for three days. Eustace -Charliewood had died in two minutes after the lift-man and the scientist -had burst into the room. The suicide had said no word, and indeed was -absolutely unconscious from the moment the shot had been fired, until -his almost immediate death. - -Sir William had made all the necessary arrangements. He had communicated -with old Sir Miles Charliewood, of Norfolk, he had expedited the -arrangements for the inquest, and he was, as the newspapers said, -"overcome with grief at the death of his old and valued friend." - -During the three days, the demeanour of the famous scientist was -reported on with great admiration in all quarters. He had known of -nothing to cause Mr. Eustace Charliewood any trouble or worry, and he -was struck down by the loss he had sustained. - -"It shows," many of the leading people in Brighton said to each other, -"that science is, after all, not the de-humanizing agency it is -popularly said to be. Here is perhaps the most famous scientific man of -the age, grieving like a brother for his friend, a mere society man of -charming manners and without any intellectual attainments. Melancholy as -the occasion is, it has served to bring out some fine and noble traits -in a man whose private life has always been something of a mystery to -the public." - -The inquest was a short one. There were few witnesses. One or two -intimate friends of the dead man came down from London--club friends -these--and testified that they knew of nothing which could have prompted -the suicide, though the dead man had been noticed to be somewhat -depressed for the last fortnight or so. - -Sir William himself, in a short but learned exposition given during the -course of his evidence, pronounced it as his opinion that Eustace -Charliewood had been suddenly seized by one of those unexplainable -impulses of mania which, like a scarlet thread, sometimes lurk -unsuspected for years in the pearly cells of the brain. - -His view was accepted by the coroner and the jury, and the usual verdict -of temporary insanity was returned. - -"He was," Sir William had said at the close of the evidence and in a -voice broken with deep feeling, "the best and truest friend I have ever -had. Our walks in life were utterly different. He took no interest in, -nor did he understand, my scientific work. And I, on the other hand, -took very little part in the social duties and amusements which made up -the greater part of Mr. Eustace Charliewood's life. Perhaps for that -very reason we were the more closely drawn together. No one will ever -know, perhaps, the real underlying goodness, generosity and faithfulness -in my dead friend's character. I cannot go into details of his private -life, I can only say that the mysterious seizure which has robbed -society of one of its ornaments, has taken from the world a gentleman in -every thought and deed, a type of man we can ill afford to lose in the -England of to-day." - -Young Lord Landsend, who, with Mr. Percy Alemare, had attended the -inquest from London, looked at his friend with a somewhat cynical smile, -as the deep voice of Sir William Gouldesbrough faltered in its -peroration. Mr. Percy Alemare replied to the smile with a momentary -wink. Both of the young men were very sorry that Eustace Charliewood had -dropped out so suddenly. They had liked him well enough, but they -certainly had not discerned the innate nobility of character, so -feelingly set forth by Sir William Gouldesbrough, and so fully reported -by the newspaper-men present. - -Afterwards, in the hotel, old Sir Miles Charliewood had shaken the -scientist warmly by the hand. - -"What I have heard you say, Sir," he said, "comforted me very much. I -wish poor Eustace's eldest brother had been here to hear you say it. But -James is in India with his regiment. Eustace did not come to us at -Charliewood Hall. There were family reasons of long standing, why there -was a breach between his family and himself. These, Sir William, I will -not enter into here. But death heals all breaches, and remembering -Eustace as a bright and happy boy at Eton, before we became estranged, I -feel a father's natural sorrow. But let me say, Sir William, once more, -that you have lightened that sorrow somewhat. I had regarded my son as -living a useless and selfish life upon the allowance I was in the habit -of paying into his bank. To hear that there was an underlying strata of -goodness and nobleness in his character is indeed a solace." - -Sir William had bowed, and old Sir Miles, a courtly old gentleman of -great age, whose grief had not prevented him from making an excellent -dinner the evening before, and from passing somewhat acrid criticisms -upon the hotel wine, drove away to the station, smoking a cigar, and -feeling that the troublesome and unpleasant episode was well over. - -Thus, Mr. Eustace Charliewood, man about town, made his sudden exit from -Vanity Fair. - -Thus, Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S., had another secret to lock up -in the sombre recesses of his brain. - -During the three days that he had been forced to remain in Brighton by -the tragedy, Sir William had seen something of the two ladies at the -Palace Hotel. - -Both Lady Poole and Marjorie during that time had come insensibly to -lean upon him, and to ask his advice about this or that. A terrible gap -had been created in Marjorie's life, and though Gouldesbrough could not -fill it, he came at the right moment to comfort and sustain. - -Before he returned to London, Sir William had gradually glided into a -new relation with the girl to whom he had been engaged. He found his -power over her had increased. She was more dependent and subservient in -her great trouble than she had ever been during the time when she was -promised to be his wife, and he must sue for favours. - -And Gouldesbrough noticed also that, though the girl's grief seemed in -no way lessened her hopes of ever seeing Guy Rathbone again seemed to -be dwindling. The cunning words that he had spoken, the little hint of a -vulgar Circe was perhaps beginning to germinate within Marjorie's brain. -She was too loyal to believe any such statement, but, nevertheless, it -had an unconscious influence with her. At any rate, she began to cease -discussion of the mystery, and there was the hinting of a coming -resignation to the hard and impenetrable fact. - -This at least was what Sir William Gouldesbrough deduced. - -Trained watcher of the mind and human impulse as he was, psychologist of -marvellous knowledge and penetration, he began to see, or so he thought -to himself, that all was not yet lost, that it might well be that the -events of the last few weeks would some day--not yet or soon, but some -day--place him upon a higher pedestal than ever before. - -On the evening of the fourth day after his arrival, Sir William -Gouldesbrough returned to town. In the afternoon he had driven with Lord -Landsend and Percy Alemare to the cemetery. - -It had been a cold and blustering afternoon, and the plain hearse and -the single carriage that followed it had trotted through the -semi-deserted streets until the grave-side was reached. The shivering -vicar of a neighbouring church, whose turn it was to take the cemetery -duty for the week, had said the words of the burial-service, and in some -half-an-hour all that was mortal of Mr. Eustace Charliewood had -disappeared for ever and a day. - -He would never stroll up Bond Street in his fur coat any more. Never -again would he chat with the head-waiter upon the important question of -a lunch. No longer would Mr. Proctor, the masseur, set the little rubber -hammers to beat out the lines of dissipation upon that weak and handsome -face. Mr. Eustace Charliewood had resigned his membership of the St. -James's Street Clubs, and had passed out of Vanity Fair into the night. - -After the funeral, Gouldesbrough went to say good-bye to Lady Poole and -Marjorie. His last words to them were these-- - -"I shall go on," he said, "doing all that I can in every possible way. -And everything that I do I will let you know, and if I can discover the -slightest clue to this terrible mystery, you shall hear it at once. But -don't buoy yourself up with false hopes, that is all I ask. None of us -can say what the future may have in store, but for my part I have not -much hope. It may seem a cruel thing for me to say, Marjorie, but I -think it is my duty to say it. Bear up and be brave, and remember that I -am always close by to do anything I can in any and every way to help you -and your mother." - -And when he had gone, the two ladies, sitting in the twilight before the -glowing fire in the open hearth of the hotel sitting-room, had felt that -something, some one, who had become necessary to them, had departed. - -Sir William Gouldesbrough travelled up to Victoria in a Pullman car. He -sat in his arm-chair before a little table, on which was a pile of -evening papers. During the first ten minutes he had glanced through all -of them, and only one part of the news' columns claimed his -attention--this was the portion of the paper devoted to the "Rathbone -Mystery." - -He noticed that already the clamour and agitation was beginning to die -down. The shrewd purveyors of news were beginning to realize that the -mystery was not likely to be solved, and that the public appetite was -satiated with it. - -The two columns or more which had been usual in the early days of -Rathbone's disappearance, had now dwindled to a single three-quarters of -a column. Sir William realized that the public interest was already -dying out. - -For a few minutes, when he had methodically folded the papers in a pile, -he allowed his thoughts to dwell upon the recent incidents at Brighton. - -Charliewood had killed himself. What did that mean? It simply meant that -Eustace Charliewood was out of the way. The baronet had not a single -regret in his mind. Despite the geniality of his manner to his late -henchman, when circumstances had seemed to require that, he had regarded -him as simply a servant and a tool, and as of considerably less -importance in the scheme of things than, say, a delicate induction coil, -or a new drum armature. - -Then there was Marjorie. In his quick summarizing way, allowing no -emotion to enter his brain at the moment, Sir William reviewed that -aspect of his Brighton visit too. Well, that also was satisfactory. -Things were going indeed far better than he had hoped. He had -accomplished exactly what he had meant to do, rather more indeed, and he -had done so with singular success. His position with Lady Poole and her -daughter was perhaps stronger than it had ever been, even in the days -when his position was, so to speak, an official one. Good again! - -And with that, the cool, hard intellect dismissed personal affairs -entirely, and with a sigh of relief the physical body of the man leant -back in his chair, while the brain went swiftly and gladly into the high -realms of science. - -At Victoria, Sir William's motor brougham was waiting, and he was driven -swiftly through the lighted streets of London towards his own house in -Regent's Park. He smoked a cigar and bent forward, looking at the moving -panorama of people under the gas-lamps, as a man sits in an arm-chair -and lets the world defile before him. And as he watched the countless -throngs, streams that moved and pulsed in the arteries of the great city -as the blood moves and pulses in the veins and arteries of man, he was -filled with a tremendous exultation and pride. - -Soon, ah, soon! he would be master of every single mind and soul that, -housed in its envelope of flesh, flitted so rapidly past the windows of -the swift-moving machine in which he sat. - -No secrets, great or small, noble or petty, worthy or evil, would be -hidden from him, and he, alone, by the power of his intellect and the -abnormal force of his will, had wrested from nature the most stupendous -and mysterious of all her secrets. - -There was but little more to be done now, before the great invention -would be shown to the leading scientists of the world. - -Already slight hints, thin rumours of what was being done in the -laboratories of Regent's Park, were beginning to filter through the most -important scientific circles. A paper read by Sir William at the British -Association, a guarded article contributed to the _Nineteenth Century_, -propounding some most daring theories as to the real action of the -mind, had already prepared some of the shrewdest brains in Europe for a -possible revelation of something stupendously startling in the realms of -scientific achievement. - -A few keen and brilliant brains had realized, if Sir William was right, -even in these preliminary conclusions, whither the conclusions tended. -Lesser scientists who could not see so far, knew nothing. The man in the -street was only aware that the great scientist had been working for -years upon abstruse problems which had no interest for him whatever. - -But, nevertheless, in the highest circles, there was an indubitable stir -and rumour. - -Yes! But little now remained to be done before absolute perfection of -the invention was obtained. A few more experiments, more delicate and -decisive than any that had gone before, still remained to be made. The -apparatus itself was completed. Its working under certain conditions was -certain. It was still necessary, however, to test it by means of -continuous experiments upon a living human brain. - -During the last year of their work, Gouldesbrough and Wilson Guest had -begun to realize this last necessity with increasing conviction. They -saw that the coping-stone of the marvellous edifice which they had -slowly built up through the years, was now resolving itself into this, -and this alone. Neither had said as much to each other in so many -words, until some four months ago. Then, upon one memorable night, when, -excited by drink to an unusual freedom and openness of speech, Guest had -voiced the unspoken thought of his master and himself. - -A human brain, a living human brain, in a living human body was an -absolute and final requirement. - -There were not wanting, there never have been wanting, scientific -enthusiasts who will submit themselves to experiment. But in this case a -voluntary subject was impossible, for reasons which will presently -appear. It became a definite problem with the two men as to how, and by -what means, they should obtain a living creature who should be -absolutely subject to their will. - -And then chance had provided Sir William with the unique opportunity. He -had seen his way to rid himself of a hated rival, and to provide a -subject for experiment at one and the same time. He had not hesitated. -Brains so far removed from the ordinary sphere of humanity as his never -hesitate at anything. - -Guy Rathbone had disappeared. - -The motor stopped at the door in the great, grim wall which surrounded -Sir William's house. He said good-night to the chauffeur who looked -after his two cars at a garage some half-a-mile away, and opened the -wicket with his key. - -As he walked through the dark garden and saw the great square block of -the house looming up before him, it was with a quickening sense of -anticipation and pleasure. All the worries of his life were momentarily -over and done with, he was coming back to his great passion, to his life -work, the service of science! - -It was about ten o'clock, and as he opened the front door and came into -the hall, everything was silent and still. He lifted up the padded stick -which hung beside the dinner-gong and struck the metal, standing still -while the deep booming note echoed mournfully through the house. - -The butler did not answer the summons. Sir William realized that the man -must be out; Wilson Guest had probably given the servants an evening's -holiday for some purpose of his own. - -He crossed the dimly-lit hall, pushed open the baize door which led to -the study, and entered his own room. - -The fire was burning brightly, the electric lights glowed, but the place -was quite empty. On his writing-table were a pile of letters, on a round -table set beside the fire was a cold chicken and a bottle of claret. -Obviously his first surmise had been right, and the servants were out. - -He left the study, proceeded onwards down the passage and unlocked -another door, a door through which no one but himself and Guest were -allowed to penetrate, a door that was always kept locked, and which led -to the laboratories, mechanical rooms, and invention studios, which had -been built out at the back of the house over what were once the tennis -lawns, and occupied a considerable area. - -Locking the door behind him, Sir William went on down a short passage. -The first door on the right had the letter "A" painted on it in white. - -He opened this door and looked in. - -The room was empty, though it was brilliantly lit. It was a place filled -with large tables, on which there were drawing instruments, sheets of -figures and tracings. - -Guest was not there. - -Closing the door again and passing onward, Sir William entered the -chemical laboratory, a long, low place, lit by a sky-light in day, and -by electricity at night. As he opened the door quietly, he heard sounds -of movement. And then immediately, at the far end of the laboratory, he -saw the man he was looking for. - -The place was in entire darkness save at one end, where two incandescent -bulbs glowed above an experiment table. - -The assistant was bending over a Bunsen burner above which a large glass -tube was clamped, in which some liquid was boiling. - -Suddenly he heard Sir William's advancing footsteps, and leapt up. For a -single moment the grey-pink hairless face was suffused with furtive -terror at the sound. It shone out in the light of the lamps clear and -distinct, though the lower part of the body was hidden by the darkness. - -"Here you are then," Gouldesbrough said. "The whole house seems -deserted." - -Guest sighed with relief, and then began to titter in his curious, -almost feminine, way-- - -"By Jove!" he said, "you startled me, William. I had no idea when you'd -be back. My nerves are like lumps of wet velvet. He! he!" - -His hand shook as he came forward to greet his chief. Sir William knew -well that this man was a consistent and secret drunkard, and he never -made any comment on the fact. Guest was at liberty to do exactly as he -pleased, to gratify his vices to the full--because Guest, drunk or -sober, was a complete and brilliant helper, and because Sir William not -only could not do without him, but knew that the man was his, body and -mind, so long as he was allowed to indulge himself as he would. Yet, as -the greater man shook hands with the lesser, he was conscious of a -sudden thrill of repulsion at the filthy fears of the sensualist. - -"Yes, I'm back," Gouldesbrough answered, "and everything has gone very -well. I suppose you have seen that Eustace Charliewood killed himself?" - -"Yes, I did," Guest answered, "and for a few hours I was considerably -troubled about it. Then I saw by the paper that you were down there, so -I knew it would be all right. He never said anything, of course, or left -anything behind him?" - -"Only a letter to me, which I destroyed." - -"Good," Guest answered, and his interest in Eustace Charliewood and his -end ceased immediately. "Well, I've lots to tell you. I've gone as far -as I could on my own lines, but I've been longing for you to come back. -My dear William, it's simply splendid! How right you have been always! -How absolutely necessary it was to have a living brain to experiment -on!" - -"How is the man, in good health?" - -"Well, of course there's been a considerable waste of tissue, and the -absolute lack of exercise has had its effect. But the cell is well -ventilated with an electric fan which I keep constantly going, and I -allow the subject to read two or three hours every day--such books as he -may ask for. The rest of the time I turn out the light, after I have -fixed on the cap. I find that the thought images thrown upon the screen -in room "D" are more vivid when the subject is kept in darkness. Still, -speaking as a whole, the physical health is good, and it's singular how -vivid the thought pictures are, which shows that the cerebrum is in a -perfectly strong and healthy condition. As you know, it is from that -part of the brain we get all our voluntary and actual pictures; -therefore, we are to be congratulated that there is no weakness in that -regard so far. Still, when you came in, I was just preparing a phosphate -solution which I'm going to mix with the subject's soup, which he will -take in an hour or so. Three or four days' phosphate treatment will -intensify the vibrations within the magnetic field of the cap. I was -doing this in view of your return, when we shall really begin to -experiment seriously." - -"Have you had any trouble, physical trouble I mean, with the subject?" -Gouldesbrough asked. - -"Oh, no," Guest replied indifferently. "Of course he's as strong as a -horse, but the aluminium fetters and the system of india-rubber cord -that you suggested, have proved all that was necessary. I can render him -quite helpless directly I get inside the cell and before he could -possibly reach me. Then fitting the cap is a simple matter. The head is -rigid in the vulcanite depression which encloses the neck, and there is -no resistance at all." - -"Good," Gouldesbrough answered. "Curiously enough, I found that design -in a strange old book published at the time of the Reformation, -detailing some of the methods of the Holy Office in Spain, with -appropriate wood cuts." - -Guest chuckled horribly. - -"Of course as yet," Gouldesbrough went on in calm, even tones, "the -subject has not the slightest idea what the experiments mean? He doesn't -know why you fit on the receiver? He is quite in the dark?" - -"Entirely," Guest answered, "and he is at a loss to imagine what we are -doing to him." - -"Ah, well," Gouldesbrough replied, "when we do tell him----" - -"It will be lovely," the assistant replied, tittering once more, "to -watch the pictures that come on the screen when he knows that we are -reading his inmost thoughts when he tries to control them, to alter -them, and fails in his agony! When he realizes that he doesn't belong to -himself any more!" - -The creature rubbed its plump and delicate hands together in an ecstasy -of evil enjoyment. - -"I suppose," Gouldesbrough said with some slight hesitation, "you've -gathered a good deal of the fellow's opinions, memories, etc., lately?" - -"Never had such an amusing time in all my life," Guest answered. "I've -gone down and put on the cap and tied him up, and I've come up and sat -alone in front of the screen in Room "D," turned on the generating -current and sat in an arm-chair with a bottle of whisky at my side, and -laughed till I cried! You'll learn a few home truths about yourself, -William, before very long. The curious thing is, that whenever your -picture comes upon the screen, it's all distorted. You are a fairly -passable-looking man, as men go, William, but you should see yourself as -this man sees you in his brain." - -He laughed once more, malicious and horrible laughter which echoed high -up in the sky-light of this weird and empty place. - -Gouldesbrough made an impatient movement. - -"How do you mean?" he said. - -"Well," Guest answered, intensely enjoying the situation, "I've seen a -good many pictures of nasty ugly looking devils and monsters, and I've -been in the Weirtz Museum at Brussels, but no artist who ever painted or -drew, and no man who ever modelled in wax, ever made such a face as this -man's brain makes of you, when he thinks of you!" - -Gouldesbrough laughed grimly. - -"Poor devil," he said indifferently, "he naturally would. But I'm glad -we have got such an excellent brain for experiment. The Pons Varolii -must be exceptionally active." - -"I should think it was," Guest answered. "You should see the pictures -that come on the screen when he is thinking of Marjorie Poole!" - -Gouldesbrough started. - -"How do you mean?" he said. - -"Well," Guest replied, turning off the blue flame of the Bunsen burner, -and stirring the mixture in the test-tube with a glass rod--"well, -Marjorie Poole's a pretty girl, but when this man calls her up in his -memory, she's a sort of angel. You know what a difficulty we had when we -got over the Lithium lines in the ash of the muscular tissue of the -blood, which had to be translated through the new spectroscope into -actual colour upon the screen? Well, we did get over it, but when the -subject thinks of Marjorie Poole, the colour all fades out of the -picture, the actual primary colours, I mean. The girl flashes out into -the dark in white light, like a sort of angel! and the first time I saw -it I jumped up from my chair, shut off the connecting switch and turned -up the lamps. It was so unlike any of the other pictures we have ever -got, and for a moment I thought I had been over-doing it a little in the -whisky line." - -Gouldesbrough stopped the strange inhuman creature in his unholy -amusement. - -"Well, I'm going to bed now," he said. "We'll begin work to-morrow. I -saw some supper put out for me in the study." - -"Right oh," Guest answered. "Good-night then, William. I'm going to take -the beef broth and phosphates to our Brain down below in the cell." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE TOMB-BOUND MAN - - -Mr. Guest had visited his victim and had gone. - -Supper was over. Beef-tea and phosphorous! and Mr. Guest had said his -mocking words of good-night. - -"Sleep well, Mr. Rathbone! I shall not be compelled to ask you to wear -that pretty metal cap until to-morrow, so I won't turn out the light. -You have a book to read, you've had your supper, and I wish you a -pleasant time alone. No doubt you will occupy your leisure in thinking -of Miss Marjorie Poole. You'll recall that occasion in a certain room -hung with pink, when you kissed her by the side of the piano in the -white and gold case! I know you often recall that happy incident." - -He had closed the heavy steel door with a last chuckle of malice and -power, leaving the prisoner white and shaking with fear. How did this -sinister and devilish gaoler know his intimate thoughts? - -He groaned deeply, and then, as he had done a thousand times before, -gazed round the place in which he was in terror-struck amazement. Where -was he? _What_ was this horrible prison with all its strange -contrivances, its inexplicable mysteries? - -He was in a large stone cell, brilliantly lit at this moment by two -incandescent electric bulbs in the vaulted ceiling far above his head. A -long time ago now, how long he could not have said, he was Gerald -Rathbone, a man living in the world, seeing the sunlight and breathing -the air of day. He had been Gerald Rathbone, moving honourably among his -fellow men, seeing human faces, hearing the music of human voices, an -accepted lover, and a happy man. - -That was long ago, a dream, a vision which was fading away. It seemed -years since he had heard any voice but that of the pink, hairless man -who fed him and whose slave he had become. - -Once more the prisoned thing that had been Gerald Rathbone gazed round -the cell, striving with terrible intensity of thought to understand it -and penetrate its mysteries. Here he had been put and here he had -remained ever since that sickening moment when he had been talking to -Sir William Gouldesbrough. He had been standing in front of the baronet, -when his arms had been gripped from behind and unseen fingers held a -damp cloth, with a faint sickly and aromatic smell, over his face. A -noise like the rushing of great waters sounded in his ears, there was a -sense of falling into a gulf of enveloping blackness. - -He had awakened in the place which he was now surveying again, with -frightful and fascinated curiosity. - -In the brilliant light of the electric bulbs every object in the cell -was clearly seen. The place was not small. It was oblong in shape, some -sixteen feet by twelve. The walls were built of heavy slabs of Portland -stone cemented together with extreme nicety and care. The door of the -cell was obviously new. It was a heavy steel door with a complicated -system of locks--very much like the door of a safe. The whole place, -indeed, suggested that it had been used as a strong-room at some time or -other. There was no window of any kind in the cell. In the centre of the -arched roof there was a barred ventilator, and close by an electric fan -whirled and whispered unceasingly. The sound made by the purring thing -as it revolved two thousand times a minute was almost the only sound -Gerald Rathbone heard now. - -The floor of the cell was covered with cork carpet of an ordinary -pattern. The victim cast his glance on all this without interest. Then, -as if he did so unwillingly, but by the force of an attraction he could -not resist, he stared, with lively doubt and horror rippling over his -face, at something which stood against the opposite wall. He saw a long -narrow couch of some black wood, slanting upwards towards the head. The -couch stood upon four thick pedestals of red rubber, which in their turn -rested upon four squares of thick porcelain. The whole thing had the -appearance of a shallow box upon trestles, and at the head was a curious -pillow of india-rubber. At the side of this thick pad was a -collar-shaped circlet of vulcanite clamped between two arms of -aluminium, which moved in any direction upon ball-pivots. - -He stared at this mysterious couch, trying to understand it, to realize -it. - -He rose from the narrow bed on which he sat, and advanced to the centre -of the cell--to the centre, but no further than that. - -Around his waist a circlet of light steel was welded, and from it thin -steel chains ran through light handcuffs upon his wrists, and were -joined to steel bands which were locked upon his ankles. And all these -chains, hardly thicker than stout watch-chains, but terribly strong, -were caught up to a pulley that hung far above his head and, in its -turn, gave its central chain to another pulley and swivel fixed in the -roof. - -In the half of his cell where his little bed was fixed, the prisoner had -fair liberty of movement, despite his shackles. He could sit or lie, -use his hands with some freedom. But whenever he attempted to cross the -invisible line which divided one part of the cell from the other, the -chains tightened and forbade him. - -He stood now, straining to the limit of his bonds, gazing at the long -couch of black wood, with its rubber feet, its clamps and collar at the -head. - -Above the mysterious couch, upon a triangular shelf by the door, was -something that gleamed and shone brightly. It was a cap of metal, shaped -like a huge acorn cup, or a bishop's mitre. From an ivory stud in the -centre of the peak, coils of silk-covered wire ran to a china plug in -the wall. - -Rathbone stood upright for several minutes gazing at these things. Then -with a long, hopeless sigh, to the accompanying jingle of his fetters, -he turned and sat down once more upon his bed. - -As prisoners do, he had contracted the habit of talking aloud to -himself. It was a poor comfort--this mournful echo of one's own -voice!--but it seemed to make the profound solitude more bearable for a -moment. He began a miserable monologue now. - -"I _must_ understand it!" he said. "That is the first step of all, if I -am to keep my brain, if there is ever to be the slightest chance of -escape, I must understand this terrible and secret business. - -"What are these fiends doing to me? - -"Let me go through the whole thing slowly and in order." - -He began to reconstruct the scenes of his frequent torture, with the -logic and precision with which he would have worked out a proposition of -Euclid. It was the only way in which he could keep a grip upon a failing -mind; a logical process of thought alone could solve this horrid -mystery. - -What happened every day, sometimes two or three times a day? Just this. -He would be lying on his bed, reading, perhaps, if the electric lights -were turned on. There would be a sudden creak and rattle of the big -pulleys high up in the roof, a rattle which came without any warning -whatever. - -Then the central chain, to which all the other thinner chains were -fastened, would begin to tighten and move. Slowly, inch by inch, as if -some one were turning a winch-handle outside the cell, the chain wound -up into the roof. As it did so, the smaller chains, which were fixed to -the steel bands upon his limbs, tightened also. - -Struggle as he might, the arrangements and balance of the weights were -so perfect that in less than a minute he would be swinging clear of the -bed, as helpless as a bale of goods at the end of a crane. - -Then the upward movement of the chain would stop, the door open with a -clicking of its massive wards, and Guest would come in. - -In a moment more Gerald always found himself swung on to the long black -couch. His neck was encircled by the collar of thick vulcanite, his head -was bent upwards by means of an india-rubber pillow beneath it, his -hands and feet were strapped to the framework of the couch. - -And finally Guest would take the metal cap and fix it firmly upon his -head, pressed down to the very eyes so that he could in no way shake it -off. The man would leave the cell, sometimes with a chuckle or a -malicious sentence that seemed full of hidden meaning, sometimes in -silence. - -And then the electric light invariably went out. - -Rathbone never knew how long he was forced to remain thus in the dark, -the subject of some horrible experiment, at the nature of which he could -only guess. The period seemed to vary, but there was no possible test of -time. Long ago time had ceased to exist for him. - -Release would come at last, release, food and light--and so the dreadful -silent days went on. - -"What are these devils doing to me?" - -The hollow voice of reverie and self-communing cut into the silence like -a knife. - -"It must be that I am being made the victim of an awful revenge and -hatred. Charliewood was the decoy and tool of Gouldesbrough; it was all -planned from the first. Marjorie was never really relinquished by -Gouldesbrough. He meant all along to get me out of the way, to get -Marjorie back if he could. All this is clear enough. I thought I was -dealing with an honourable gentleman, and a great man, too great to -stoop even to anything petty or mean. I have been dealing with desperate -and secret criminals, people who live hideous double lives, who walk the -world and sit in high places and do unnameable evil in the dark. Yes! -That is clear enough. Even now, perhaps, my darling is once more in the -power of this monster Gouldesbrough!" - -The thin voice failed and died away into a tortured whimper. The tall -form shook with agony and the rattle of the steel chains mingled with -the "purr," "purr" of the electric fan in the roof. - -By a tremendous effort of will Rathbone clutched at his thoughts again. -He wrenched his mind back from the memory of his dreadful plight to the -solving of the mystery. - -Till he had some glimmering of the _meaning_ of what was being done to -him, he was entirely hopeless and helpless. - -He began to murmur to himself again. - -"In the first place Gouldesbrough has got me out of the way -successfully. I have disappeared from the world of men, the field is -clear for him. But he has not killed me. For some reason or other, -dangerous though it must be for him, he is keeping me alive. It surely -would have been safer for him to have murdered me in this secret place, -and buried me beneath the stone flags here? I am forced to conclude that -he is keeping me for an even worse revenge than that of immediate -extinction. It is torture enough to imprison me like this, of course. -But, if the man is what I feel he is--not man, but devil--would he not -have tortured me in another way before now? There are dreadful pains -that fiends can make the body suffer. One has read of unbearable agonies -in old books, in the classics. Yet nothing of the sort has been done to -me yet, and I have been long in this prison. My food has been plentiful -and of good quality, even definitely stimulating I have thought at -times. - -"It is obvious then that I am not to be subjected to any of the horrors -one has read of. What _is_ being done to me? when, each day, I am fixed -rigidly upon that couch, and the brass helmet is put upon my head, what -is going on? I cannot feel any sensation out of the ordinary when I am -tied down there. I am no weaker in body, my faculties are just as -unimpaired when I am released as they were before. At least it seems so -to me. I can discover no change in me either, mental or physical. - -"Something is being done by means of electricity. The coils of wire that -lead from the helmet to the plug in the wall show that. The way in which -the couch is insulated, the vulcanite collar, the rubber pillow, all -lead to the same conclusion. At first I thought that a torturing current -of electricity was to be directed into the brain. That my faculties, my -very soul itself, were to be dissolved and destroyed by some subtle -means. But it is not so. There is no current coming to me through the -wire. Nowhere does my head touch metal, the cap is lined throughout with -rubber. But yesterday, as my gaoler held up the helmet to examine it -before putting it on my head, I had an opportunity of seeing the whole -interior for the first time. - -"There was very little to see! At the top was a circular orifice which -seemed to be closed by a thin disc of some shining material. That was -all. It looked just like the part of a telephone into which one speaks. -My brain, my body, are not being acted upon. Nothing is being slowly -instilled into my being. _Can it be that anything is being taken away?_" - -He bent his head upon his hands and groaned in agony. All was dark and -impenetrable, there was no solution, no help. He was in the grip of -merciless men, in the clutch of the unknown. - -The electric light in the cell went out suddenly. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -LORD MALVIN - - -If Sir William Gouldesbrough represented all that was most brilliant, -modern, and daring in the scientific world of Europe, Lord Malvin stood -as its official figure-head. He was the "grand old man" of science, and -was regarded by every one as a final court of appeal in all such -matters. - -He was of a great age, almost eighty, in fact, yet his health was -perfect, his intellect unimpaired, and his interest in human events as -keen and vigorous as that of a man but half his age and in the full -prime and meridian of life. - -In science, he represented what the President of the Royal Academy -represents in art, or the Lord Chief Justice in the law, and although he -had almost ceased independent investigations, he was always appealed to -and consulted when anything new and revolutionary in science was -discovered or promulgated by any of the younger men. - -The younger men themselves, while allowing their chief's vast knowledge -and experience, his real and undeniable eminence, were apt to call him -conservative, and to hint that he was of an alien generation. They would -say that his judgment was sometimes obscured by his veneration and love -for the past, and because he found himself unable to leap so rapidly to -conclusions as they did, they put him down as an old fogey who had done -valuable and remarkable work in his time, but who ought to be content -with his peerage and immense fortune and retire to the planting of -cabbages or the growing of roses in the country. - -In the public eye, nevertheless, Lord Malvin remained as familiar and -necessary a part of the English landscape as St. Paul's; and, whenever a -great man died and the newspapers enumerated the few remaining veterans -of the Commonwealth, Lord Malvin was usually the first to be mentioned. - -For many years there had been an antagonism between Lord Malvin and Sir -William Gouldesbrough. It was not personal so much as scientific, an -abstract and intellectual antagonism. When Sir William's star first -began to rise above the horizon--he was only Mr. Gouldesbrough -then--Lord Malvin had recognized his talent as an inventor, but -deprecated many of his theories. These ideas, these possibilities for -the future which Gouldesbrough was fond of giving to the world in -lectures and reviews, seemed horribly dangerous, subversive, and -fantastic to the older man. - -He said so in no uncertain voice, and for some years, though he was -always kind and civil to Gouldesbrough, he certainly did much to -discount the rising star's power of illumination. - -But as time went on, each daring theory put forth by Gouldesbrough -passed into the realm of actual fact. Lord Malvin saw that Sir William -had been almost invariably right. He saw that the new man not only told -the world that some day this or that marvel would come to pass, but -immediately afterwards set to work and himself made it come to pass! - -Lord Malvin was a noble man as well as a nobleman--sometimes a rare -combination to-day--and he confessed himself in the wrong. Directly he -saw that he had been mistaken, and that Sir William was no charlatan, -but one of the most daring and brilliant scientists the world had ever -known, the peer gave the newer man all the weight of his support. -Nevertheless, while forced by circumstance and Gouldesbrough's -justification of his own ideas into a scientific brotherhood, Lord -Malvin, who constantly met the other, found a new problem confronting -him. - -While he had not believed in Gouldesbrough's theories, Lord Malvin had -rather liked him personally. - -Now that he was compelled to believe in Gouldesbrough's theories, Lord -Malvin found that he experienced a growing dislike for the man himself. -And as he was a fair and honourable man, Lord Malvin did everything he -possibly could to rid himself of this prejudice, with the result that -while his efforts to do so were quite unavailing, he redoubled his -kindness and attentions to the man he disliked. - -All the scientific world knew that Sir William was perfecting some -marvellous discovery. In Berlin, Paris, Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda -Pesth, learned savants were writing to their _confreres_ in London to -know what this might be. The excitement was intense, the rumours were -endless, and it is not too much to say that the whole scientific -intellect of the globe was roused and waiting. - -Now when a number of leading brains are agitated upon one subject, -something of that agitation begins to stir and move in the outside -world. - -Already some hints had got about, and the press of Europe and America -was scenting some extraordinary news. - -The whole business had at length culminated in the giving of a great -reception by Lord Malvin. - -Everybody who mattered was asked, not only in the scientific but also in -the general world. - -And everybody knew, that not only was the reception given in Sir William -Gouldesbrough's honour, but that he would say something more or less -definite about what he had in hand. - -In short, a pronouncement was to be made, and the ears of every one were -tingling to hear it. - -Among the idle and frivolous section of society the promised revelation -had become the topic of the hour. Everything else was quite forgotten. -Gerald Rathbone's disappearance was already a thing of the past. Eustace -Charliewood's suicide had not lasted for the proverbial nine days as a -subject of talk. But here was something _quite_ new! Something all the -more attractive because of its mystery. - -Some people said that Sir William had invented a way in which any one -might become invisible for a few pence. - -This suggested delightful possibilities to every one, save only the -newly rich, whose whole endeavour was to be seen. - -On the other hand there was a considerable section of people who -asserted that Sir William had succeeded in supplying the lesion in the -brain of the ape, and that now that intelligent animal would be able to -talk, own property, and become recognized as a British citizen. Every -one began to read the _Jungle Book_ again, and a serious proposal was -made in an Imperialistic Journal that England might thus colonize and -secure the unexplored forests of Central Africa, by means of drilling -and civilizing the monkeys of the interior. - -A Gorilla-General was to be appointed, who should know the English -language, but no other, and it was thought that by this means the -British dominions and population would be enormously increased. The -"Smart Set" especially welcomed this recruitment of their numbers. - -In city circles both these conjectures were scouted. - -The well-informed insisted that Sir William had discovered a method of -solidifying alcohol, so that in future one would buy one's whiskey in -chunks, and one's champagne in sticks like barley sugar. - -Lord Malvin lived in Portland Place, in one of those great stone houses -which, however sombre without, are generally most pleasant and -attractive within. He was unmarried, and his niece Dorothea Backhouse -acted as hostess and generally controlled his domestic affairs. - -The stately rooms were crowded with well-known people of all sorts and -conditions. Yet this assembly differed from others in a marked manner. -All the society people who lived solely for amusement had been invited, -and were there. But mingled with the butterflies, one saw the ants and -bees. By the carefully groomed, and not ill-looking face of a young and -fashionable man about town, could be seen the domed forehead, and the -face gashed and scored with thought, of some great savant or deep -thinker. - -It was indeed an unusual assemblage that passed through the large and -brilliant rooms, laughing and talking. In the blue drawing-room, Kubelik -had just arrived and was beginning to play. Every one crushed in to hear -the young maestro. Melba was to sing a song, perhaps two, later on in -the evening, and the ball-room was filled with supper-tables. - -In so much Lord Malvin's party did not differ in any way from that of -any other famous and wealthy London host. There was the same light and -sparkle of jewels. The warm air was laden with perfume, the same -beautiful and tired faces moved gracefully among all this luxury. But -the men and women who worked and thought for the world were in this -Portland Place palace also. They talked together in eager and animated -groups, they paid little or no attention to this or that delight which -had been provided for them. All these things were phantoms and unreal to -these people. The real things were taking place within the brain as they -conversed together. The army of intellect was massing within the citadel -of thought, to wrest new territory from the old queen nature, mistress -of the kingdom of the unknown. - -Lord Malvin and his niece had received their guests at the head of the -grand staircase. Now, when almost every one had arrived, the great -scientist had withdrawn to an inner room at the end of a long series of -apartments, and stood there talking with a small knot of friends. - -This inner drawing-room was the culminating part of the suite, the -throne room as it were; and the people standing there could look down a -long and crowded vista of light and movement, while the yearning and -sobbing of Kubelik's violin came to their ears in gusts and throbs of -delicious sound. - -Lord Malvin, a tall, upright old man with a long white beard, a high -white brow beneath his velvet skull-cap, and wearing a row of orders, -was talking to Sir Harold Oliver. Sir Harold was the principal of a -great Northern University, a slim, hard-faced man of middle age, and the -pioneer in the movement which was allowing a place to both philosophy -and psychology in modern science. - -A third person stood there also, a youngish man of middle height, Mr. -Donald Megbie, the well-known journalist and writer on social and -religious matters. Donald Megbie held rather a curious position in the -literary world. He was the friend of many great people, and more often -than not his pen was the vehicle chosen by them to first introduce -their ideas and discoveries to the general public. When it was time to -let the man in the street know of some stupendous discovery, Megbie was -called in, and his articles, always brilliant and interesting, explained -the matter in popular terms for the non-technical mind. - -"So Gouldesbrough has not yet come?" Sir Harold Oliver said. - -"Not yet," Lord Malvin answered. "I have had a telegram from him, -however, to say that he is compelled to be rather later than he had -expected. I have told the butler to wait in the hall for him, and to -bring him straight through here directly he arrives." - -"A remarkable man," said Mr. Megbie, in that low and pleasant voice -which had become so familiar in high places--even in the private rooms -of cabinet ministers it was said--during the last few years. - -"A man none of us can afford to ignore," Sir Harold answered with a -slight sigh of impatience. - -Megbie smiled. - -"My dear Donald," Sir Harold went on, "please don't smile in that -superior sort of manner. I know what you are thinking. You're thinking -'how these scientists love one another.' You are accusing me of envy, -jealousy and uncharitableness. I'm not jealous of Gouldesbrough, great -as his attainments are, and I'm sure I don't envy him." - -"Any one might be forgiven a little envy on such an occasion as this," -Megbie answered. "I confess that if I thought every one of importance in -London were met together in Lord Malvin's house to welcome _me_, to hear -what _I_ was going to do next, I should be rather more than pleased." - -Lord Malvin smiled kindly, but the noble old face grew sad for a moment. - -"Ah!" he said, "you are young, Mr. Megbie. I thought as you think when I -was your age. But one finds out the utter worthlessness of fame and -applause and so on, as one grows older. The work itself is the thing! -Yes! There, and therein only, lies the reward. All else is vain and -hollow. I am a very old man, and I am near my end. I suppose I may say -that such honours as can be given have fallen to my share. Yet I can -honestly say that I would give them all up, I would efface myself -utterly if I thought that I was on the brink of the discovery which I -believe William Gouldesbrough has made and will tell us something of -to-night!" - -The other two started. A deep note of seriousness had come into the -voice of the venerable old man. It portended something, something vast -and far-reaching, and they all stood silent for a moment occupied with -their own thoughts. - -The distant music of piano and violin rose higher and higher in keen -vibrating melody. There was a note of triumph in it which seemed to -accentuate the gravity and importance of Lord Malvin's words. The -triumphant notes of the man who was coming were singing and ringing -through the halls and chambers of this great house! - -The music ceased suddenly, and there was a great clapping of hands. - -At that moment the three men waiting in the inner room saw a tall, black -figure moving towards them, the figure of a man on whom people were -beginning to press and converge, a figure that smiled, bowed, stopped -continually to shake hands and receive greetings, and made a slow -progress towards them. - -Sir William Gouldesbrough, the man of the future, radiant, honoured and -successful, was arriving to greet Lord Malvin, the man of the past. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -DONALD MEGBIE SEES POSSIBILITIES - - -So Sir William Gouldesbrough passed through the crowds of friends and -acquaintances who crowded round him in a welter of curiosity and -congratulation, and came into the inner room, where Lord Malvin, Sir -Harold Oliver and Mr. Donald Megbie were waiting to receive him. - -Tall, suave, and self-contained, he bowed and shook hands. Then there -was a moment's pause--they were waiting for him to speak, expectant of -what he should say. - -"I am sorry, Lord Malvin," he began, "that I have arrived so late at -your party. But I was conducting an experiment, and when I was half-way -through I found that it was going to lead me much further than I -thought. You know how that happens sometimes?" - -"Perfectly, Sir William, and the fact is a scientist's greatest pleasure -very often. Now, may I ask you--you will excuse an old man's -impatience--may I ask you if you have finally succeeded? When I last -saw you the composition of the spectrum presented a difficulty." - -"That I have now completely overcome, Lord Malvin." - -Lord Malvin trembled, actually trembled with excitement. "Then the -series of experiments is complete?" - -"Quite. And more than that, I have done, not once or twice but many -times, exactly what I told you I hoped to do. The thing, my lord, is an -accomplished fact, indisputable--_certain_!" - -Lord Malvin turned to Sir Harold Oliver and Megbie. - -"Gentlemen," he said in a clear voice but full of a profound emotion. -"The history of life is changed. We all must stand in a new relation to -each other, to society and to the world." - -Donald Megbie knew that here was a chance of his literary lifetime. Lord -Malvin would never have spoken in this way without due consideration and -absolute conviction. Something very big indeed was in the air. But what -was it? The journalist had not an idea as yet. - -He looked eagerly at the aquiline, ascetic face of the inventor, marked -the slight smile of triumph that lingered round the lips, and noted how -the eyes shone, brilliantly, steadily, as if they were lighted up from -behind. Megbie had seen many men in many countries. - -And as he looked keenly at Sir William Gouldesbrough two thoughts came -into his mind. One was something like this--"You are certainly one of -the most intellectual and remarkable men now living. You are unique, and -you stand upon a pedestal of fame that only one man in several -generations ever reaches. All the same, I shouldn't like to be in your -power or to stand in your way!" And moreover the question came to the -quick analytic brain of the writer whether the brilliance of those -lamp-like eyes was wholly natural, was wholly sane. - -These twin thoughts were born and over in a flash, and even as he -thought of them Megbie began to speak. - -"Now that Lord Malvin has told us so much, Sir William," he said, "won't -you tell us some more? I suppose you know that all the world is waiting -for a pronouncement?" - -"The world will know very soon, Mr. Megbie," Gouldesbrough answered -pleasantly. "In about a fortnight's time I am sending out some -invitations to some of our leading people to witness the result of my -experiments in my laboratories. I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing -you there also. But if you wish it, I will certainly give you a slight -idea of the work. Since the public seem interested in what I am doing, -and something seems to have leaked out, I am quite willing that they -should know more. And of course there is no one to whom I would rather -say anything than yourself." - -Megbie bowed. He was tremendously excited. Brother writers who did not -make a tenth of his income and had not a quarter of his eminence were -wont to say that his ears twitched when in the presence of a great -celebrity. This no doubt was calumny, but the journalist stood in an -attitude of strained attention--as well a man might stand when the -secret of the hour was about to be revealed to him in preference to all -other men. - -Gouldesbrough bowed to Lord Malvin. - -"I'm going to have half-an-hour's conversation with Mr. Megbie," he -said. "Meanwhile, my lord, I wonder if you would give Sir Harold Oliver -a slight technical outline of my processes? And of course, as I -understand this is to be in some sense a night on which your friends are -to be given some general information, I shall place myself entirely in -your hands as to any revelations you may think proper to make." - -He moved off with the journalist, leaving the two other men already -fallen into deep talk. - -"Where shall we go, Mr. Megbie?" he said, as they came out into a large -room hung with old Flemish tapestry and full of people. - -"There is a little conservatory down a corridor here," Megbie -answered. "I expect we should be quite undisturbed there. Moreover, -we could smoke, and I know that you are like me, Sir William, a -cigarette-smoker." - -"That will do very well, then," Gouldesbrough answered, and they walked -away together. Every one saw them go. Ladies nodded and whispered, -gentlemen whispered and nodded to each other. The occasion was perfectly -well understood. Sir William was telling Donald Megbie! By supper time -it would be all over the rooms and the _Eastminster Gazette_ to-morrow -afternoon would have all the details. - -"Megbie is always chosen in affairs of this sort." "That's Megbie, the -writing Johnny, who sort of stage-manages all these things." "The -ubiquitous Donald has got him in his grip, and we shall soon know all -the details"--these were the remarks made upon every side as the two men -strolled through the rooms. - -Then an incident that was much commented on next day in society, -occurred quite suddenly. It created quite a little sensation and gave -rise to a great deal of gossip. - -Sir William and Mr. Megbie came to a part of the room where Lady Poole -and her daughter Marjorie were standing talking to General Mayne of the -War Office. - -Lady Poole saw the scientist. - -"Ah, William!" she said, somewhat loudly, and quite in her old manner of -the days when Sir William and Marjorie were engaged. "So here you are, -blazing with triumph. Every one's talking of you, and every one has been -asking Marjorie if she knows what it is you've invented this time!" - -Megbie, who knew both Lady Poole and her daughter, but did not wish to -enter into a conversation just at this important moment, bowed, smiled -at the old lady and the girl, and stood a little aside. - -Gouldesbrough took Lady Poole by the hand and bent over it, saying -something in a low voice to her. And once more society nodded and -whispered as it saw the flush of pleasure in the lady's face and her -gratified smile. Again society whispered and nodded as it saw Marjorie -Poole shake hands with her _ex-fiance_, and marked the brightness of her -beautiful eyes and saw the proud lips moving in words of friendship and -congratulation. - -What Gouldesbrough said in answer to Marjorie was this-- - -"It is so kind and good of you to be pleased, Marjorie. Nothing is more -valuable to me than that. I am going to have half-an-hour with Donald -Megbie now. I find that it's usual to tell the general public something -at this stage. So I'm doing it through Megbie. He's safe, you know, and -he understands one. But after that, will you let me take you in to have -some supper? Do please let me! It would just make everything splendid, -be the final joy, you know!" - -"I should be very churlish to refuse you anything to-night, William," -she answered sadly, but with great pride for him in her voice. "Haven't -you done almost everything for me? You've done what no other living man -would have done. I shall be very glad and feel very proud if you will -come back here for me after you have talked to Donald Megbie." - -Gouldesbrough went away with the journalist. In five minutes every one -in Lord Malvin's house was saying that Marjorie Poole was engaged to Sir -William Gouldesbrough once more. - -Marjorie watched the two men go away. Her heart was full of pride and -pain. She rejoiced that all this had come to the chivalrous gentleman -who had been her lover and plighted husband. She felt each incident of -his growing triumph with intense sympathy and pleasure. He had been so -good to her! From the very first he had been splendid. If only she could -have loved him, how happy would her lot have been as mate and companion -to such a man as this! She was not worldly, but she was of the world -and knew it well. She realized most completely all the advantages, the -subtle pleasures that would belong to the wife of this great man. The -love of power and dominion, the sense of a high intellectual -correspondence with the finest brain of the day, the incense of a lofty -and chivalrous devotion--all these, yes, all these, would be for the -girl Sir William loved and wedded. - -She half-wondered if such devotion as his had proved to be ought to go -unrewarded. - -Was it _right_? Had any girl a real excuse for making a man like William -Gouldesbrough unhappy? Guy Rathbone had faded utterly out of life. The -greatest skill, the most active and prolonged inquiry had failed to -throw the slightest light upon his disappearance. - -As a person, Guy had ceased to exist. He lived only as a memory in her -heart. A dear memory, bitter-sweet--ah, sweet and bitter!--but no more a -thing of flesh and blood. A phantom, a shadow now and for evermore! - - * * * * * - -Sir William and Donald Megbie sat in a small palm house talking -earnestly together. A tiny fountain sent up its glittering whip of water -from a marble pool on which water-lilies were floating, while tiny -iridescent fish swum slowly round their roots. There was a silence and -fragrance in the pleasant remote place, the perfume of exotic flowers, -the grateful green of giant cacti which rested the eye. - -Concealed electric lights shed their radiance upon fern, flower, and -sparkling water, and both men felt that here was a place for confidences -and a fit spot in which matters of import might be unfolded. - -Both men were smoking, and in the still warm air, the delicate grey -spirals from the thick Turkish cigarettes rose with a fantastic grace of -curve that only the pencil of a Flaxman could have given its true value. - -"I am all attention, Sir William," Megbie said. - -"Well, then, I will put the thing to you in a nutshell, and as simply as -possible. When you come to the demonstration at my house in a few days' -time, you will be able to gather all the details and have them explained -to you. I am going to give you a simple broad statement here and now. -For years I have been investigating the nature of thought. I have been -seeking to discover what thought really is, how it takes place, what is -its _mechanical_ as well as its psychical value. Now, I claim that I -have discovered the active principle of thought. I have discovered how -to measure it, how to harness it, so to speak; how to use it, in fact, -just as other investigators in the past have harnessed and utilized -electricity!" - -Megbie started. "I think I see," he said hurriedly. "I think I see -something--but go on, Sir William, go on!" - -Gouldesbrough smiled, pleased with the agitation the man who sat by him -showed so plainly. - -He went on--"Hitherto that which observes--I mean the power of thought, -has never been able, strictly speaking, to observe itself. It can never -look on at itself from the outside, or view itself as one of the -multitude of things that come under its review. It is itself the origin -of vision, and the eye cannot see its own power of seeing. I have -altered all this. Thought is a fluid just as electricity is, or one may -say that it is a peculiar form of motion just as light is. The brain is -the machine that creates the motion. I have discovered that the brain -gives off definite rays or vibrations which rise from it as steam rises -from a boiling pot. That is the reason why one brain can act upon -another, can influence another. It explains personal magnetism, -hypnotism and so on. What I have done is this: I have perfected a means -by which these rays can be collected and controlled. I can place an -apparatus upon your head which will collect the thought vibrations as -you think and produce them." - -"And then, Sir William?" - -"Then I can conduct those rays along a wire for any distance in the form -of an electric current. Finally, by means of a series of sensitive -instruments which I will show you at the forthcoming demonstration, I -can transmute these vibrations into actual pictures or words, and throw -them upon a screen for all the world to see. That is to say, in actual -words, whatever any one is thinking is reproduced exactly as he thinks -it, without his having any power to prevent it. Thought, which had -hitherto been locked up in the brain of the thinker and only reaches us -through his words with whatever modification he likes to make, will now -be absolutely naked and bare." - -There was a silence of a minute or two as Sir William stopped speaking. - -The journalist was thinking deeply, his head bowed upon his hands. - -He looked up at last and his face was very pale. Little beads of -perspiration stood out upon his forehead. His eyes were luminous. - -"It is too big to take in all at once," he said. "But I see some things. -In the first instance, your discovery means the triumph of _TRUTH_! -Think of it! the saying that 'truth shall prevail' will be justified at -last!" - -Gouldesbrough nodded, and the writer went on, his voice warming into -enthusiasm as he continued, his words pouring out in a flood. "No one -will lie any more because every one will realize that lying will be -useless, when your machine can search out their inmost secrets! In two -generations deceit will have vanished from the world. We shall invest in -no company unless the directors submit themselves to the scrutiny of -your invention. We shall be able to test the genuineness of every -enterprise before embarking upon it! Again, your invention means the -triumph of _JUSTICE_! There will be no more cases of wrongful -imprisonment. No man will suffer for a crime he did not commit! Oh, it's -wonderful, beyond thinking! The cumbrous machinery of the law-courts -will be instantly swept away. The criminal will try himself in spite of -himself, he will give the secret of his actions to the world! The whole -of life will be changed and made bright! We shall witness the final -triumph of all--_THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE_! Man or maid will be each able to -test the reality and depth of each other's affection! There will be no -more mercenary marriages, no betrayals of trusting women. And from these -unions of love, pure and undefiled by worldly considerations, a new and -finer race will spring up, noble, free and wise! And you, you the man -sitting here by my side, have done all this!" - -His voice failed him for a moment, and the burning torrent of his words -was still. In the rush and clamour of the new ideas, in the immeasurable -vastness of the conception, speech would not go on. Then he started, and -his face grew paler than before. "Forgive me," he said, "forgive me if I -seem to doubt. It is all so incredibly wonderful. But you have really -_done_ this, Sir William? You are not merely hoping to do it some day? -You are not merely advancing along the road which may some day lead to -it?" - -"I have actually done it, Mr. Megbie, completely, utterly, certainly. -And in a few days you shall judge for yourself. But it is certain." - -"But it is infinite in its possibilities!" the journalist went on. -"Another thing that I see quite clearly will result is this. The right -man in the right place will be an accomplished fact in the future. We -shall find out early in the life of a child exactly in what direction -its true power lies. To-day we find that circumstance and the mistakes -of parents and guardians are constantly putting children into walks of -life for which they are not in the least fitted. The result is a -dreadful waste of power. We see on every side clergymen who ought to be -business men, business men who ought to be painters or musicians, clerks -who are bad clerks, but who would make excellent soldiers. Your -marvellous discovery will change all this for ever. Every day the -growing brain of the child will be tested. We shall find out exactly -what its true thoughts are; children will cease to be inarticulate and -unable to give us a true idea of themselves as they so often are at -present. Teaching will become an exact science, because every -schoolmaster will be able to find out how much his teaching is -appreciated and understood, and how little, as the case may be. And we -shall discover other and even more portentous secrets! We shall know -what is passing in the minds of the dying who cannot speak to us! We -shall know the truth about a future state, inasmuch as we shall be able -to find out whether the mind does indeed receive warnings and hintings -of the other world at the moment of passing! Then, also, I suppose that -we shall be able to penetrate into a world that has been closed to us -since the human species began! We shall know at last in what strange way -animals think! The pictures that pass into the brain of the dog, the -horse, the tiger, through the physical eyes, will be made clear for us -to see! We shall wrest his secret from the eagle and see the memories of -the primeval forest which linger in the minds of the jaguar and ape!" - -The little fountain in the centre of the conservatory tinkled merrily. -The electric bulbs in the glass roof shed a soft light upon the broad -green leaves of the tropical plants, which seemed as if they had been -cunningly japanned. Two men in modern evening dress sat talking -together, while distant sounds of talk and laughter floated in to them -from the great and fashionable drawing-rooms beyond. It was an ordinary -picture enough, and to the superficial eye one without special -significance or meaning. - -Yet, at that moment and in that place, a stupendous revelation was being -made. A tale which the wildest imagination would have hesitated to give -a place in the mind was being poured into the ears of one who was the -mouthpiece of the public. To-morrow all the world would be thinking the -thoughts, experiencing the same mental disturbance, that Donald Megbie -was experiencing now. The cables would be flashing the news through vast -cities and over the beds of mighty oceans to the furthest corner of the -habitable globe. - -Megbie realized something of this. "I feel my responsibility very -acutely," he said. "You have put into my hands one of the greatest -chances that any writer for the public press has ever had. Before I -begin to write anything, I must be alone to think things over. You may -well imagine how all this has startled me. For the thinking man it -almost has an element of terror. One feels an awe that may in any moment -change to fear! When I first saw Mount Blanc I felt as I do now." - -Sir William gazed keenly at his companion. Megbie was obviously -unstrung. It was curious to see how this revelation had gripped and -influenced the keen, cool-headed man of the world, curious and full of a -thrill, exquisite in its sense of power and dominion. The tall figure of -the scientist towered over that of the other man. Gouldesbrough had -risen, the usual reserve of his manner had dropped away from him, and -great tides of exultation seemed to carry him swiftly and irresistibly -to the very heart of human things. During the long years of experiment -and toil, Gouldesbrough had occasionally known these moments of savage -ecstasy. But never had he known a moment so poignant, so supreme as -this. As he stood there the thought came to him that he alone stood -apart from all created men in the supremacy of intellect, in the majesty -of an utter sovereignty over the minds of mankind. - -The rush of furious emotion mastered him for a moment, so terrible was -it in its intensity and strength. - -"Yes," he cried, with a wild gesture of his arm and in a high vibrating -voice. "Yes! You are right! You have said what all the world is about -to say. I have stormed the heights of the unknown! The secrets of all -men's hearts are mine, and I claim an absolute knowledge of the soul, -even as God claims it!" - -Megbie started from his reverie. He stared at the tall, swaying figure -with fascinated eyes as he heard the bold and terrible words. Was it not -thus that Lucifer himself had spoken in Milton's mighty poem? - -And how had the star of the morning fallen? - -Once more the thought flashed into his mind that there was something of -madness in those blazing eyes. However great things this man had done, -were not these words of tremendous arrogance the symptom of a brain -destined to blaze up for a moment in mighty triumph and then to pass -into the dark? - -Who could say? Who could tell? - -Suddenly Megbie realized that Sir William was speaking in an ordinary -voice. - -"Forgive me," he was saying quietly, and with a half laugh. "I'm afraid -I let myself go for a moment. It's not a thing I often do, you know; but -you were so appreciative. Now you will please let me run away. I am -afraid I have already been here too long. I have promised to take Miss -Poole in to supper." - -He shook hands and walked hurriedly away. - -Megbie sat where he was for a few moments longer. He intended to leave -the house quietly and go home to his chambers in the Temple, perhaps -looking in at one of his clubs on the way. He did not want the -innumerable questions, the pressure of the curious, which he knew would -be his lot if he remained any longer in Portland Place. His mind was in -a whirl, entire solitude would alone enable him to collect his thoughts. - -He rose to leave the conservatory, when he saw something bright upon the -chair on which Sir William Gouldesbrough had been sitting. It was a -cigarette-case. - -Megbie realized that Gouldesbrough had forgotten it. Being unwilling to -seek out the scientist, Megbie put the case into his pocket, meaning to -send it round to Sir William's house in the morning. Then he went -swiftly into the hall, and managed to get away out of the house without -being questioned or stopped. - -It was a clear, bright night. There was less smoke about in the sky than -usual, and the swift motion of the hansom cab was exhilarating. How -fortunate Sir William was! so the journalist thought, as he was driven -through the lighted streets. He stood upon a supreme pinnacle of fame, -and beautiful Marjorie Poole--a girl to make any man happy--was being -kind to him again. The romantic and mysterious Rathbone incident was -over and done with. Miss Poole's fancy for the young barrister must have -only been a passing one. But what a dark and mysterious business it had -all been! - -Megbie had known Guy Rathbone a little. He had often met him in the -Temple, and he had liked the bright and capable young fellow. - -For a moment the writer contrasted the lot of two men--the one he had -just left, great, brilliant, and happy; the other, whom he had known in -the past, now faded utterly away into impenetrable dark. - -He sighed. Then he thought that a cigarette would be refreshing. He -found he had no cigarettes of his own, but his fingers touched the case -Sir William had left behind him in the conservatory. - -Good! there would be sure to be cigarettes in the case. - -He drew it out and opened it. There were two cigarettes in one of the -compartments. - -But it was not the sight of the two little tubes of paper that made the -writer's eyes dilate and turned his face grey with sudden fear. Cut -deeply into the silver he saw this-- - - GUY RATHBONE, - INNER TEMPLE, - LONDON, E.C. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -HAIL TO THE LOVERS! - - -When he had left Donald Megbie, Sir William Gouldesbrough went back to -the room in which he had last seen Marjorie Poole. - -He found her the centre of a circle of friends and acquaintances. Lady -Poole was sitting by her daughter's side, and was in a high good humour. - -Gouldesbrough saw at once that while he had been talking with Donald -Megbie in the conservatory, Lord Malvin had done as Gouldesbrough had -asked him. Every one knew, with more or less accuracy, of what the new -invention consisted. - -If the excitement and stir of expectation had been noticeable at the -beginning of the evening, it was now doubly apparent. The rooms hummed -like a hive with excited talk, and it was obvious that society -considered it had received a remarkable sensation. Sir William knew that -things were moving in the direction he wished, when he saw Marjorie -Poole holding a little court in this manner. She was always a very -popular girl and knew everybody. But to-night was not ordinary. It was -plain that both Marjorie and Lady Poole were being courted because of -their relationship to Sir William Gouldesbrough. Of course everybody -knew the past history of the engagement. But now it seemed almost -certain that it would be renewed. Gouldesbrough realized all this in a -moment, and with intense satisfaction. The assumption that he and -Marjorie were once more engaged, or on the verge of being so, could not -but contribute towards the fact. - -Yes, it was a propitious hour. Everything was in his favour; this was -his grand night, and he meant that it should be crowned by the renewal -of the promise of the girl he loved. - -As he went up to the group he seemed wonderfully strong and dominant. -Marjorie's eyes fell upon him and brightened as they did so. Certainly -there was no one else like this man! - -Gouldesbrough wanted to carry Marjorie away to the supper-room at once, -but he was not to escape so easily. He was surrounded at once, and -congratulations were fired at him from every side. - -The old Duchess of Marble Arch, an ancient dame painted to resemble a -dairy-maid of one and twenty, laid a tremulous claw-like hand, blazing -with rings, upon Gouldesbrough's arm. She was a scandal-monger who had -ruined homes, a woman who had never done an unselfish action or ever had -a thought that was not sordid, malevolent or foul. Yet she was a great -lady, a Princess in Vanity Fair, and even Sir William could not -disregard her, so great and important was this venerable hag. - -"Well," she began in her high impertinent voice, "so you have outdone -Aladdin, I hear, Sir William. Really I congratulate you on your -thought-trap or whatever it is. I suppose we shall have you in the Upper -House soon! I wish you could manage to catch some thoughts for me on the -Stock Exchange. Couldn't you have your machine taken down to Capel -Court? I should very much like to know what some of the gentlemen who -deal in South Africans are thinking just now. The market is really in -the most abominable state. And do please bring the machine to one of my -At Homes. It would give me intense pleasure to know what is going on in -the minds of some of my friends. We could install it in one of the -smaller drawing-rooms, behind a screen. No one would know, and we could -catch thoughts all the evening--though I expect the machine would want -disinfecting after the first half-hour. I will see that there is some -Condy's fluid ready." - -She moved away chattering shrilly. Young Lord Landsend succeeded her. - -That nobleman showed very evident traces of living as hard as his purse -and his doctor would let him, and his pale countenance was stamped with -a congratulatory grin. "'Pon my soul, Sir William," he said, "this thing -you've made is really awfully jolly, you know. Topping idea really. Hope -you wont go fishin' round for my thoughts!" - -There was a general laugh at this, and some one was heard to remark that -they didn't think that Sir William Gouldesbrough would make any very big -hauls in that quarter! - -"But how splendid of you, Sir William!" said Mrs. Hoskin-Heath, a pretty -dark-haired woman with beautiful eyes. "It is really marvellous. Now -there will be a real meaning in the saying 'a penny for your thoughts!' -Shall you have penny-in-the-slot machines on all the stations of the -Twopenny Tube? So nice while one is waiting for a train. Just imagine -how nice it will be to let your _cher ami_ know how much you like him -without having to say any actual compromising words! You are a public -benefactor, Sir William." - -Another voice broke in upon Gouldesbrough's impatient ear. - -"How do you do, Sir William? It is a great pleasure to meet you on such -an occasion as this, an occasion which, if I may say so, is really -historic! You may not remember me, but I had the privilege of meeting -you at Brighton not long ago. My name is Charliewood, Sir Miles -Charliewood; we met on the melancholy occasion of my poor second -son's--er--death. You were very kind and helpful." - -Gouldesbrough shook hands with the old baronet. A shadow passed over his -face as he did so, and he would have given much to have avoided the -sight of him--not to have known at all that Sir Miles was in Portland -Place on this night of triumph. - -Gouldesbrough was one of those men who had solved the chief problem of -life. Like Napoleon, he was master of his own mind. His mind did not -dominate him, as the minds of most of us do. He controlled it absolutely -and never allowed thoughts of one part of his life to intrude upon those -of another. - -And now, with the frightful egotism of supreme self-will, he actually -felt aggrieved at this sudden meeting. It was, he thought, hard at this -radiant, happy moment! He did not want to be reminded of the past or of -the terrible and criminal secret of the present. Why should the pale -ghost of Eustace Charliewood come to trouble him now? His partner in an -unspeakable infamy, the tool he had used for the satisfaction of his -devilish desires was dead. Dead, gone away, no longer in existence. That -he, Gouldesbrough, was morally the murderer of the distracted man whom -he had forced into crime troubled him not at all. It never had troubled -him--he had learned to be "Lord of Himself." And now, in this moment of -unprecedented triumph, the wraith of the dead man rose up swiftly and -without warning to be a spectre at the feast. It was hard! - -But he turned to Sir Miles Charliewood and was as courteous and charming -as ever. His marked powers of fascination did not desert him. That -strange magnetism that was able to draw people to him, to make them his -servants and slaves, surrounded him now like the fabled "aura" of the -Theosophists. - -He bent over the pompous little man with a smile of singular sweetness. - -"Forget?" he said. "My dear sir, how could I forget? It is charming to -see you again. I hadn't an idea you knew Lord Malvin or were interested -in scientific affairs. Your congratulations are very welcome to me, -though you have said far more than I deserve. I hope we shall meet again -soon. I am generally at home in Regent's Park in the afternoons. It -would have made me very happy if poor Eustace could have been with us -to-night. He was one of my most intimate friends, as you know. And I -may tell you that he took a great interest in the experiments which have -now culminated so satisfactorily for me. Poor dear fellow! It is a great -sorrow to me that he is not with us. Well, well! I suppose that these -things are arranged for us by a Power over which we have no control, a -Force beyond our poor power of measuring or understanding. Good-night, -Good-night, Sir Miles. Do come and see me soon." - -He bowed and smiled, with Marjorie upon his arm, and then turned away -towards the supper-room. And he left Sir Miles Charliewood--who had not -cared twopence for his son during his lifetime--full of a pleasing -melancholy and regret for the dead man. - -Such is the power of success to awake dormant emotions in flinty hearts. - -Such is the aroma and influence which "doth hedge a king" in any sphere -of modern life! - -Sir William walked away with the beautiful girl by his side. He felt the -light touch of her fingers upon his arm, and his blood raced and leapt -with joy. He felt a boy again, a happy conquering boy. Yes, all was -indeed well upon this night of nights! - -As they entered the supper-room and found a table, Lord Landsend saw -them. He was with Mrs. Pat Argyle, the society actress, and his cousins -the young Duke and Duchess of Perth. - -Landsend was a fast young man of no particular intellect. But he was -kind, popular, and not without a certain personal charm. He could do -things that more responsible and important people couldn't do. - -As he saw the hero of the occasion and the night come in with Marjorie -Poole, an inspiration came to the rackety young fellow. - -He jumped up from his chair and began to clap loudly. - -There was a moment's dead silence. Everybody stopped talking, the clink -and clatter of the meal was still. - -Then the little Duchess of Perth--she was Miss Mamie Q. Oildervan, of -New York--took Landsend up. She began to clap too. As she had three -hundred thousand a year, was young, cheeky and delightful, she was a -leader of society at this moment. - -Every one followed suit. There was a full-handed thunder of applause. - -Lord Landsend lifted a glass of champagne high in the air. - -"Here's to the wizard of the day!" he shouted merrily. "Here's to the -conqueror of thought!" - -There was another second of silence. During it, the Duke of Perth, a boy -fresh from Oxford, caught the infection of the moment. He raised his -glass also--"And to Miss Poole too!" he said. - -People who had spent years in London society said that they had never -experienced anything like it. A scene of wild excitement began. Staid -and ordinary people forgot convention and restraint. There was a high -and jocund chorus of congratulation and applause. The painted roof of -the supper-room rang with it. - -Society had let itself go for once, and there was a madness of -enthusiasm in the air. - -Sir William Gouldesbrough stood there smiling. He entered into the -spirit of the whole thing and bowed to the ovation, laughing with -pleasure, radiant with boyish enjoyment. - -He felt Marjorie's hand upon his arm quiver with excitement, and he felt -that she was his at last! - -She stood by his side, her face a deep crimson, and it was as though -they were a king and queen returning home to the seat and city of their -rule. - -It was so public an avowal, chance had been so kind, fortune so -opportune, that Sir William knew that Marjorie would never retrace her -steps now. It was an announcement of betrothal for all the world to see! -It was just that. - -Lady Poole, who was supping with Sir Michael Leeds, the great -millionaire who was the prop and mainstay of the English Church, pressed -a lace handkerchief to her eyes. - -The bewildering enthusiasm of the moment caught her too. She rose from -her seat--only a yard or two away from the triumphant pair--and went up -to them with an impulsive gesture. - -"God bless you, my dears!" she said in a broken voice. - -Marjorie bowed her head. She drooped like a lovely flower. Fate, it -seemed to her, had taken everything out of her hands. She was the -creature of the moment, the toy of a wild and exhilarating environment. - -She gave one quick, shy glance at Sir William. - -He read in it the fulfilment of all his hopes. - -Then old Lord Malvin came down the room, ancient, stately and bland. - -"My dears," he said simply, "this must be a very happy night for you." - -Sir William turned to the girl suddenly. His voice was confident and -strong. - -"My dear Marjorie," he said, "how kind they all are to us!" - -A little group of four people sat down to the table beneath the -crimson-shaded light. - -Lord Malvin, the most famous scientist and most courtly gentleman of his -time. Sir William Gouldesbrough, the hero of this famous -party--to-morrow, when Donald Megbie had done his work, to be the hero -of the civilized world. - -Lady Poole. Sweet Marjorie Poole, in the grip of circumstances that were -beyond her thinking. - -And no one of the four--not even Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S.--gave -a thought to the man in the living tomb--to Guy Rathbone who was, even -at that moment, tied up in india-rubber and aluminium bonds for the -amusement of Mr. Guest, the pink, hairless man of Regent's Park. Mr. -Guest was drunk of whisky, and sat happy, mocking his prisoner far down -in the cellars of Sir William's house. - -Other folk were drunk of success and applause in Portland Place. - -But Donald Megbie was awake in the Inner Temple, and his thoughts were -curious and strange. - -Donald Megbie had left the party too early in the evening. He was drunk -of nothing at all! - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN THE TEMPLE - - -Like most writers, Donald Megbie was of a nervous and sensitive -temperament. Both mental and physical impressions recorded themselves -very rapidly and completely upon his consciousness. - -He arrived at the Inner Temple with every nerve in a state of -excitement, such as he had hardly ever known before. - -He walked down the dim echoing ways towards the river, his chambers -being situated in the new buildings upon the embankment. - -A full moon hung in the sky, brilliant and honey-coloured, attended by -little drifts of amber and sulphur-tinted clouds. - -But the journalist saw nothing of the night's splendour. He almost -stumbled up the stairs to the first floor. - -A lamp was burning over the door of his rooms, and his name was painted -in white letters upon the oak. He went in and turned on the electric -light. Then, for a moment, he stood still in the hall, a -richly-furnished place surrounded on all sides by doors painted white. -His feet made no sound upon the thick Persian carpet, and the whole flat -was perfectly still. - -He felt uneasy, curiously so, as if some calamity was impending. The -exhilaration of his stirring talk with Sir William Gouldesbrough--so -recent, so profoundly moving--had now quite departed. His whole -consciousness was concentrated upon a little box of metal in the pocket -of his overcoat. It seemed alive, he was acutely conscious of its -presence, though his fingers were not touching it. - -"By Jove!" he said to himself aloud, "the thing's like an electric -battery. It seems as if actual currents radiated from it." His own voice -sounded odd and unnatural in his ears, and as he hung up his coat and -went into the study with the cigarette-case in his hand, he found -himself wishing that he had not given his man a holiday--he had allowed -him to go to Windsor to spend a night at his mother's house. - -A bright fire glowed in the grate of red brick. It shone upon the -book-lined walls, playing cheerily upon the crimson, green and gold of -the bindings, and turned the great silver inkstand upon the -writing-table into a thing of flame. - -Everything was cheerful and just as usual. - -Megbie put the box down on the table and sank into a huge leather -arm-chair with a sigh of relief and pleasure. - -It was good to be back in his own place again, the curtains drawn, the -lamps glowing, the world shut out. He was happier here than anywhere -else, after all! It was here in this beautiful room, with its books and -pictures, its cultured comfort, that the real events of his life took -place, those splendid hours of solitude, when he set down the vivid -experiences of his crowded life with all the skill and power God had -given him, and he himself had cultivated so manfully and well. - -Now for it! Tired as his mind was, there lay a time of deep thinking -before it. There was the article for to-morrow to group and arrange. It -was probably the most important piece of work he had ever been called -upon to do. It would startle the world, and it behoved him to put forth -all his energies. - -Yet there was something else. He must consider the problem of the -cigarette-case first. It was immediate and disturbing. - -How had this thing come into Sir William's possession? What -communication had Gouldesbrough had with Guy Rathbone? That they were -rivals for the hand of Miss Poole Megbie knew quite well. Every one knew -it. It was most unlikely that the two men could have been friends or -even acquaintances. Indeed Megbie was almost certain that Rathbone did -not know Sir William. - -Was that little shining toy on the table a message from the past? Or was -it rather instinct with a present meaning? - -He took it up again and looked at it curiously. - -Immediately that he did so, the sense of agitation and unrest returned -to him with tremendous force. - -Megbie was not a superstitious man. But now-a-days we all know so much -more about the non-material things of life that only the most ignorant -people call a man with a belief in the supernatural, superstitious. - -Like many another highly educated man of our time, Megbie knew that -there are strange and little-understood forces all round us. When an -ex-Prime Minister is a keen investigator into the psychic, when the -principal of Birmingham University, a leading scientist, writes -constantly in dispute of the mere material aspect of life--the cultured -world follows suit. - -Megbie held the cigarette-case in his hand. All the electric lights -burned steadily. The door was closed and there was not a sound in the -flat. - -Then, with absolute suddenness, Megbie saw that a man was standing in -front of him, at the other side of the fireplace, not three yards away. -He was a tall man, clean-shaven, with light close-cropped hair and a -rather large face. The eyes were light blue in colour and surrounded by -minute puckers and wrinkles. The nose was aquiline, the mouth clean-cut -and rather full. The man was dressed in a dark blue overcoat, and the -collar and cuffs of the coat were heavily trimmed with astrachan fur. - -The room was absolutely still. - -Something like a grey mist or curtain descended over Megbie's eyes. It -rolled up, like a curtain, and Megbie saw the man with absolute -clearness and certainty. He could almost have put out his hand and -touched him. - -Measured by the mere material standard of time, these events did not -take more than a second, perhaps only a part of a second. - -Then the writer became aware that the room was filled with -sound--sudden, loud and menacing. It was a sound as of sudden drums at -midnight, such a sound as the gay dances in Brussels heard on the eve of -Waterloo, when the Assembly sounded in the great square, and the whole -city awoke. - -In another moment, Megbie knew what the sound in his ears really was. -His own heart and pulses were racing and beating like the sudden -_traillerie_ of drums. - -In a flash he recognized the face and form of his visitor--this outward -form and semblance of a man which had sprung up and grown concrete in -the night! The phantom--if indeed it was a phantom--wore the dress and -aspect of Eustace Charliewood, the well-known man about town who had -killed himself at Brighton a few years ago! - -Megbie had never spoken to Charliewood--so far as he could remember--but -he knew him perfectly well by sight, as every one in the West End of -London had known him, and he was a member of one of the clubs to which -the dead man had belonged. - -The Thing that stood there, the Thing or Person which had sprung out of -the air, wore the earthly semblance of Eustace Charliewood. - -Megbie shouted out loud. A great cry burst from his lips, a cry of -surprise and fear, a challenge of that almost dreadful _curiosity_ that -men experience now and then when they are in the presence of the -inexplicable, the terrible and the unknown. - -Then Megbie saw that the face of the Apparition was horribly contorted. - -The mouth was opening and shutting rapidly in an agony of appeal. It -seemed as though a torrent of words must be pouring from it, though -there was not a sound of human speech in the large warm room. - -Great tears rolled down the large pale cheeks, the brow was wrinkled -with pain. The hands gesticulated and pointed, flickering rapidly hither -and thither without sound. And continually, over and over again, the -hands pointed to the gleaming silver case for cigarettes which Donald -Megbie clasped tightly in his right hand. - -The silent agitated Thing, so close--ah, so close! was trying to tell -Donald something. - -It was trying to say something about the cigarette-case, it was trying -to tell Megbie something about Guy Rathbone. - -And what? What was this fearful message that the agonized Thing was so -eager and so horribly impotent to deliver? - -Megbie's voice came to him. It sounded thin and muffled, just like the -voice of a mechanical toy. - -What is it? What is it? What are you trying to say to me about poor Guy -Rathbone? - -And then, as if it had seen that Megbie was trying to speak to it, but -it could not hear his words, the figure of Eustace Charliewood wrung its -hands, with a gesture which was inexpressibly dreadful, unutterably -painful to see. - -Megbie started up. He stepped forward. "Oh, don't, don't!" he said. As -he spoke he dropped the cigarette-case, which, up to the present he had -clutched in a hot wet hand. It fell with a clatter against the -fender--that at any rate was a real noise! - -In a moment the mopping, mourning, weeping phantom was gone. - -The room was exactly as it had been before, still, warm, -brilliantly-lit. And Donald Megbie stood upon the hearth-rug dazed and -motionless, while a huge and icy hand seemed to creep round his heart -and clutch it with lean, cold fingers. - -Donald Megbie stood perfectly motionless for nearly a minute. - -Then he knelt down and prayed fervently for help and guidance. At -moments such as this men pray. - -Much comforted and refreshed he rose from his knees, and went to one of -the windows that looked out over the Thames. - -He pulled aside the heavy green curtain, and saw that a clear colourless -light immediately began to flow and flood into the room. - -It was not yet dawn, but that mysterious hour which immediately presages -the dawn had come. - -The river was like a livid streak of pewter, the leafless plane-trees of -the embankment seemed like delicate tracery of iron in the faint -half-light. London was sleeping still. - -The writer felt very calm and quiet as he turned away from the window -and moved towards his bedroom. - -The fire was nearly dead, but he saw the silver cigarette-case upon the -rug and picked it up. He went to bed with the case under his pillow, and -this is what he dreamed-- - -He saw Guy Rathbone in a position of extreme peril and danger. The -circumstances were not defined, what the actual peril might be was not -revealed. But Megbie knew that Rathbone was communicating with his brain -while he slept. Rathbone was living somewhere. He was captive in the -hands of enemies, he was trying to "get through" to the brain of some -one who could help him. - -The journalist only slept for a few short hours. He rose refreshed in -body and with an unalterable conviction in his mind. The events of the -last night were real. No chance or illusion had sent the vision and the -dream, and the innocent-looking cigarette-case that lay upon the table, -and which had come into his hands so strangely, was the pivot upon which -strange events had turned. - -The little silver thing was surrounded by as black and impenetrable a -mystery as ever a man had trodden into unawares. - -And in the broad daylight, when all that was fantastic and unreal was -banished from thought, Megbie knew quite well towards whom his thoughts -tended, on what remarkable and inscrutable personality his dreadful -suspicions had begun to focus themselves. - -He sat down and wrote his article till lunch-time. It was the best thing -he had ever done, he felt, as he gathered the loose sheets together, and -thrust a paper-clip through the corners. - -He rose and was about to ring for his man--who had returned at -breakfast-time--when the door opened and the man himself came in. - -"Miss Marjorie Poole would like to see you, sir, if you are disengaged," -he said. - -Donald Megbie's face grew quite white with surprise. - -Once more he felt the mysterious quickenings of the night before. - -"Ask Miss Poole to come in," he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -MARJORIE AND DONALD MEGBIE - - -The valet showed Marjorie Poole into Donald Megbie's study. - -She wore a coat and skirt of dark green Harris Tweed with leather collar -and cuffs, and a simple sailor hat. - -Megbie, who had never met Miss Poole in the country, but only knew her -in London and during the season, had never seen her dressed like this -before. He had always admired her beauty, the admirable poise of her -manner, the evidences of intellectuality she gave. - -At the moment of her entry the journalist thought her more beautiful -than ever, dressed as if for covert-side or purple-painted moor. And his -quick brain realized in a moment that she was dressed thus in an -unconscious attempt to escape observation, to be incognito, as it were. - -But why had she come to see him? She was in trouble, her face showed -that--it was extraordinary, altogether unprecedented. - -Megbie showed nothing of the thoughts which were animating him, either -in his face or manner. He shook hands as if he had just met Miss Poole -in Bond Street. - -"Do sit down," he said, "I think you'll find that chair a comfortable -one." - -Marjorie sat down. "Of course, Mr. Megbie," she said, "you will think it -very strange that I should come here alone; when I tell you why, you -will think it stranger still. And I don't want any one to know that I -have been here. I shall tell mother, of course, when I get back." - -Megbie bowed and said nothing. It was the most tactful thing to do. - -"I feel you will not misunderstand my motives," the girl went on, "when -I explain myself. In certain cases, and among certain persons, -conventions are bourgeois. We don't know each other very well, Mr. -Megbie, though we have sometimes had some interesting talks together. -But in a sense I know you better than you know me. You see, I have read -your books and other writings. In common with the rest of the world I -can gather something of your temper of mind, and of your outlook upon -life." - -Megbie once more inclined his head. He wondered furiously what all this -might mean. At the moment he was absolutely in the dark. He stretched -out his hand towards a tin of cigarettes that stood on a bracket by the -side of the fireplace, and then withdrew it suddenly, remembering who -was present. - -"Oh, do smoke," she said, instantly interpreting the movement. "Now let -me just tell you exactly why I am here, why I _had_ to come here. Of all -the men I know, you are the most likely to understand. You have made a -study of psychical affairs, of what the man in the street calls -'spooks'--you know about dreams." - -At that Megbie started forward, every muscle in his body becoming rigid -and tense, his hands gripping the knobs of his chair arms. - -"Of course!" he said, in a voice that rippled with excitement. "Go on, -please. I might have known your coming here this morning is all part of -the wonderful and uncanny experiences I had last night. You've come -about Guy Rathbone!" - -It was the girl's turn to start. Fear came creeping into eyes which were -not wont to show fear, the proud mouth grew tremulous. - -Marjorie stretched out her hands--little hands in tan-coloured gloves. -"Ah!" she cried, in a voice that had become shrill and full of pain, -"then it is true! Things have happened to you too! Mr. Megbie, you and I -have become entangled in some dark and dreadful thing. I dare not think -what it may be. _But Guy is not dead._" - -Megbie answered her in the same words. - -"No," he said, "Guy Rathbone is not dead." His voice had sunk several -tones. It tolled like a bell. - -"Miss Poole," he went on, "tell me, tell me at once what happened to you -last night." - -With a great effort of control, Marjorie began her story. - -"It was very late when we got home last night after the party," she -said. "I was in a curious state of nerves and excitement. I must touch -upon a personal matter--this is no time for reticence or false shame. I -had been with William Gouldesbrough. You know that we were at one time -engaged--oh, this is horribly difficult for me to say, Mr. Megbie." - -"Go on, Miss Poole. I know, I know. But what does it matter in such a -time as this?" - -"Nothing at all," she answered in a resolute voice. "I was engaged to -Sir William when I found out that my affection was going elsewhere--Guy, -Mr. Rathbone----" - -"You needn't go into the past, Miss Poole," Donald broke in, "tell me -about last night." - -"I was with Sir William at supper-time. There was a remarkable scene. It -was a sort of triumph for him, and I was with him, every one included me -in it. It was, obviously, generally assumed that we had become engaged -once more. On the way home, Sir William again asked me to be his wife. I -told him that I could not give him an answer then. I said that I would -tell him to-night. He is coming to Curzon Street to-night." - -"I beg you, I implore you to wait." - -Megbie's words were so grave, he seemed so terribly in earnest, that the -girl shrank from them, as one would shrink from blows. - -The same thought began to lurk in the eyes of the woman and the man, the -same incredible and yet frightful thought. - -Marjorie's cheeks were almost grey in colour. To Megbie, as he watched -her, she seemed to have grown older suddenly. The lustre seemed to him -to have gone out of her hair. - -"I reached home," she said. "Mother made me take a cup of beef-tea, and -I went to my room. I was preparing for bed, indeed I was brushing my -hair before the mirror, when a curious sense of disturbance and almost -of fear came over me. I felt as if there was another presence in the -room. Now my looking-glass is a very large one indeed. It commands the -whole of the room. The whole of the room is reflected in it without any -part left out, except of course which I could see where I sat. When this -strange feeling of another presence came over me, I thought it was -merely reaction after a terribly exciting night. I looked into the -glass and saw that the room was absolutely empty. Still the sensation -grew. It became so strong at last that I turned round. And there, Mr. -Megbie, I tell you in the utmost bewilderment, but with extreme -certainty, there, though the mirror showed nothing at all, a figure was -standing, the figure of a man. It was not three feet away." - -Megbie broke in upon her narrative. - -"The figure," he said in a hushed voice, "was the figure of Mr. Eustace -Charliewood, who shot himself at Brighton some little time ago." - -She cried out aloud, "Yes! But how did you know?" - -"He came to me also, last night. He came to me out of the other world, -which is all round us, but which we cannot see. He was trying to tell me -something about Guy Rathbone." - -Marjorie Poole began to sob quietly. - -"I knew it," she answered. "Mr. Charliewood in another state sees more -than we see, he knows where Guy is. Oh, my love, my love!" - -Megbie went up to her. He had some sal-volatile in his dressing-case, -and he made her take it. - -"Be brave," he said; "you have more to tell me yet, as I have more to -tell you. Guy is alive, we are certain of that. But he is in some one's -power. The spirit of this man, Eustace Charliewood, knows where he is. -He is trying to tell us. He is trying to make amends for something. He -must have had something to do with Guy's disappearance." - -"Mr. Charliewood," Marjorie said in a whisper, "was William -Gouldesbrough's intimate friend. He was always about the house. When Guy -Rathbone disappeared, Eustace Charliewood killed himself. William was at -Brighton at the time. He was trying to help me and my mother to find -Guy." - -"Go on with your story, if you can," Megbie said. "One more effort!" - -"I knew that the figure was trying to tell me about Guy. Something told -me that with absolute certainty. But it couldn't tell me. It began to -weep and wring its hands. Oh, it was pitiful! Then suddenly, it seemed -to realize that it was no use. It stood upright and rigid, and fixed its -eyes upon me. Mr. Megbie, such mournful eyes, eyes so full of sorrow and -terrible remorse, were never in a human face. As those eyes stared down -at me, a deep drowsiness began to creep over me. Sleep came flooding -over me with a force and power such as I had never known before. It was -impossible to withstand it. People who have taken some drug must feel -like that. Just as I was, in the chair in front of the dressing-table, -I sank into sleep." - -"And your dream?" Megbie said quietly. - -She started. "Ah, you know," she said. "The spirit of Eustace -Charliewood could not tell me while I was conscious. But in sleep he -could influence my brain in some other mysterious way. I dreamed that -Guy was in a sort of cell. By some means or other I knew that it was -underground. A man was there, a man whom I have met, a man--a horrible -creature--who is a fellow-worker of Sir William Gouldesbrough. The man -was doing something to Guy. I couldn't see what it was. Then the picture -faded away. I seemed to be moving rapidly in a cold empty place where -there was no wind or air, sound, or, or--I can't describe it. It was a -sort of 'between place.'" - -"And then?" - -"Then I saw you standing by the side of William Gouldesbrough. It was at -the party--Lord Malvin's party, which we had just left. I saw this as if -from a vast distance. It was a tiny, tiny picture, just as one could see -something going on under a microscope. William was talking to some one -whom I couldn't see. But I knew it was myself, that I was looking at the -exact scene which had happened at the party, when you were going away -with William, and he had stopped on the way to ask me to go into supper -with him. And, strangely enough, in another part of my mind, the -sub-conscious part I suppose, I knew that I was looking at an event of -the past, and that this was the reason why it seemed so tiny and -far-off. The picture went away in a flash--just like an eye winking. -You've been to one of those biograph shows and seen how suddenly the -picture upon the screen goes?--well, it was just like that. Then a voice -was speaking--a very thin and very distant voice. If one could telephone -to the moon, one would hear the voice at the other end just like that, I -should think. And though the voice was so tiny, it was quite distinct, -and it had a note of terrible entreaty. 'Go to Donald Megbie,' it said. -'Go at once to Donald Megbie, the writer. He will help. There is still -time. Go to Donald Megbie. I have been able to communicate with him. He -has the silver--Guy----' And then, Mr. Megbie, the voice stopped -suddenly. Those were the exact words. What they meant, I did not know. -But when I awoke they remained ringing in my ears like the echo of a -bell heard over a wide expanse of country. In the morning I resolved to -come to you. I didn't know where you lived, but I looked you up in -'Who's Who.' And as soon as I could get away without any one knowing, I -came here." - -Donald Megbie rose from his chair. He realized at once that it was -necessary to keep the same high tension of this interview. If that were -lost everything would go. - -"I know what the poor troubled spirit--if it is a spirit--of the man, -Charliewood, meant by his last words. There is a thing called -psychometry, Miss Poole. In brief, it means that any article which -belongs, or has belonged, to any one, somehow retains a part of their -personality. It may well be that the mysterious thought-vibrations which -Sir William Gouldesbrough has discovered can linger about an actual and -material object. Last night, when Sir William left me to take you in to -supper at Lord Malvin's, he left his cigarette-case behind him in the -conservatory where we had been sitting. I didn't want to bother him -then, so I put it in my pocket, intending to send it to him to-day; here -it is. It belonged to Guy Rathbone. I found it in Sir William's -possession, and I believe that it has been the means--owing, to some law -or force which we do not yet understand--of bringing us together this -morning." He handed her the cigarette-case. - -Neither of them could know that this was the case which Eustace -Charliewood had found in the pocket of Rathbone's fur coat, when he had -taken it from the Bond Street coiffeur in mistake. - -Neither of them could see how it had been restored by Charliewood to -Rathbone, and had been appropriated by Mr. Guest, when the captive had -been taken to his silent place below the old house in Regent's Park. - -And even Sir William Gouldesbrough did not know that he had seen the -thing in his study, just as he was starting for Lord Malvin's house, and -had absently slipped it into his pocket, thinking it was his own. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -PLANS - - -Sir William Gouldesbrough stood in the large laboratory. The great room -was perfectly dark, save only for a huge circle of bright light upon one -of the walls, like the circle thrown upon a screen by a magic-lantern. - -A succession of dim and formless figures moved and slid over the -illuminated space in fantastic silence. Now and then the face of part of -the dress of one of the figures would suddenly glow out into colour and -absolute distinctness. Then it would fade away into mist. - -There was a "click," and the circle of light vanished, another, and the -vast laboratory glowed out into being as Sir William turned on a hundred -electric bulbs. - -Mr. Guest was sitting upon a long, low table swinging his legs. His -great pink face was blotched and stained by excess, and his hand shook -like an aspen leaf. - -He jerked his head towards the opposite wall upon which the huge screen -was stretched--an enormous expanse of white material stretched upon -rollers of hollow steel. - -"Rathbone's getting about done," he said. "I give him another month -before his brain goes or he pegs out altogether. Look at those results -just now! All foggy and uncertain. He's losing the power of -concentrating his thoughts. Continuous thinking is getting beyond him." - -Sir William was sitting in an arm-chair. By the side of it was a -circular table with a vulcanite top, covered with switch-handles and -controlling mechanism. His long thin finger played with a little brass -button, and his face was set in lines of deep and gloomy thought. His -eyes were fixed and brooding, and sombreness seemed to surround him like -an atmosphere. He showed no signs of having heard his assistant for a -moment or two. Then he turned his face suddenly towards him. - -"My friend," he said, "you yourself will not last another month if you -go on as you are going. That is quite certain. You ought to know it as -well as I do. Another attack of delirium and nothing can save you." - -Mr. Guest smiled horribly. "Very possibly, William," he said, "I have -thought that it may be so myself. But why should I care? I'm not like -you. I have no human interests. Nothing matters to me except my work." - -"And if you die in delirium tremens you won't be able to go on with your -work." - -"My dear William, there is nothing left for me to do. In this new -discovery of ours, yours has been the master-mind. I quite admit that. -But you could not have done without me. I know, as you know, that there -is no one else in Europe except myself who could have helped you to -bring the toil of years to such a glorious conclusion. Well, there is -the end of it. I am nearly fifty years old. There is no time to start -again, to begin on something new. Life will not be long enough. I have -used up all my powers in the long-continued thought-spectrum -experiments. I have no more energy for new things. I rest upon my -laurels, content that I have done what I have, and content from the -purely scientific point of view. I've fulfilled my destiny. My mind is -not like the minds of other men I meet. It is not quite human. It's a -purely scientific mind, a piece of experimental apparatus which has now -done its work." - -He laughed, a laugh which was so mirthless and cold that even -Gouldesbrough shuddered at the soulless, melancholy sound. Then he got -down from the table and shambled over the floor of the laboratory -towards a cupboard. He took a bottle of whisky from a shelf, half filled -a tumbler with the spirit, and lifted it towards his chief in bitter -mockery. - -"Here's luck, William," he said, "luck to the great man, the pet of -Europe, the saviour of the race! You see I have been reading Mr. Donald -Megbie's articles in the papers." He drank the whisky and poured some -more into the glass. "Yet, William, most fortunate of living men! you -seem unhappy. 'The Tetrarch has a sombre air,' as the play says. What a -pity it is that you are not like me, without any human affections to -trouble me! I don't want to pry into your private affairs--I never did, -did I?--but I presume something has gone wrong with your matrimonial -affairs again? I'm right, am I not? Can't Miss Marjorie make up her -mind? Tell me if you like. I can't give you any sympathy, but I can give -you advice." - -Gouldesbrough flushed and moved impatiently in his chair. Then he began -to speak. - -"If what you say is true, Guest, then you must be a happy man. Your life -is complete, you have got what you wanted, you have done what you wanted -to do. And if you choose to kill yourself with amyl alcohol, I suppose -that's your affair. What you say is quite right. I am terribly worried -and alarmed about the success of _my_ great desire, the one wish -remaining to me. I don't expect or want sympathy from you, but your -advice is worth having, and you shall give it to me if you will." - -Wilson Guest nodded. "Tell me what is worrying you," he said. - -"You know that I have had great hopes of obtaining Miss Poole's consent -to our re-engagement. Everything has been going on well. Miss Poole -believes--or did believe--that the man Rathbone is dead. I used your -suggestion and hinted at a vulgar intrigue. At Brighton, when -Charliewood shot himself, I was constantly with Miss Poole and her -mother. My pretended efforts to solve the mystery of Rathbone's -disappearance told. I saw that I was winning back all the ground I had -lost. I had great hopes. These seemed to culminate the other night at -Lord Malvin's reception. Miss Poole promised to receive me the next day -and give me a definite answer. I knew what that meant; it meant yes. I -was prepared to stake everything upon it. When I called at Curzon Street -in the evening I was told that she was unwell, and could not see me. The -next day I succeeded in seeing her. I was taken aback. There was a -distinct change in her manner. The old intimacy and freedom which I had -been able to re-establish had gone. There was almost a shrinking in her -attitude--she seemed afraid of me." - -"Well, that is easily accounted for. You have done something hitherto -beyond human power. Naturally she regards you as a person apart--some -one who can work miracles. But what did she say?" - -"It wasn't that sort of shrinking, Guest. I know Miss Poole well. I -understand the real strength and brilliancy of her mind. She is not a -foolish, ordinary girl to be frightened as you suggest. I told her that -I had come for my answer. I think I spoke well. My heart was in what I -said, and I urged my cause as powerfully as I could. Miss Poole -absolutely refused to give me any answer at all." - -"Well, that is no very terrible thing, William. I know little of women, -but one is told that is their way. She will not yield at once, that is -all." - -"I wish I could think so, Guest. It did not strike me in that way at -all. And she said a curious thing also. She said that I might re-open -the question after the public demonstration. She wouldn't pledge herself -to give an answer even then. But she said that I must say nothing more -to her on the subject until after the demonstration." - -Wilson Guest laughed. - -"What a powerful drug this love is!" he said. "It's as unexpected in its -action as ether! My dear William, you are worrying yourself about -nothing. I'm sure of it. Remember that you can't look at the thing with -an unprejudiced eye. It's all quite clear to me. Miss Poole simply wants -to wait until she has seen your triumph with her own eyes. That is all, -believe me. You are in too much of a hurry. How curious that is! It is -the strangest thing in the world to find _you_--you of all men--in a -hurry. It is only by monumental and marvellous patience that you have -succeeded in discovering a law, and applying that law with my help, -which makes you the greatest man of science the world has ever known. -And yet you leap at the fence of a girl's hesitation and reserve as if -everything depended on breaking a record for the jump!" - -Gouldesbrough smiled faintly and shook his head. He was not convinced, -but it was plain that he was comforted by what Guest had said. - -His smile was melancholy and gently sad; and in the electric radiance of -the huge mysterious room he seemed like some eager and kindly priest or -minister who bewailed the sins of his flock, but with a humorous and -human understanding of mortal frailty. - -And there he stood, the greatest genius of modern times, and also one of -the most cruel and criminal of living men. Yet so strange and tortuous -is the human soul, so enslaved can conscience be by the abnormal mind, -that he thought of himself as nothing but a devoted lover. - -His passion and desire for this girl were horrible in their egotism and -their intensity alike. But the man with the marvellous brain thought -that the one thing which set him apart from the herd and redeemed him -for his crime was his love for Marjorie Poole. He really, honestly and -truly, believed that! - -It was not without reason that Donald Megbie had seen the blaze of -insanity in Sir William's eyes. A supreme genius is very seldom sane. -Professor Lombroso has said so, Max Nordau agitated scientific Europe by -saying it a few years ago. - -Yet some one more important said it many years before-- - - "Great wits are sure to madness near allied, - And thin partitions do their bounds divide." - -"So the matter rests there?" Guest asked. - -"Yes," Sir William answered; "but I have altered the day of the -demonstration. There is no need to wait after all! Everything is -prepared. I have sent out cards for Friday next, three days from now." - -Guest poured out some more of the spirit. He laughed rather -contemptuously. - -"Can't wait, then!" he said. "I'm glad I'm free from these -entanglements, William. Of course it doesn't matter when the people come -to see the thing at work. As you say, everything is quite ready. But -there is another thing to be considered. What about Rathbone? He's no -more use to us now, and he must be got rid of. Shall I go down-stairs -and kill him?" - -He said it with the indifference with which he might have proposed to -wash his hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A DEATH-WARRANT IS PRESENTED TO A PRISONER - - -When Wilson Guest spoke of the final extinction of the wretched subject -of their experiments, Sir William Gouldesbrough did not answer. He began -to pace the long room, his head was sunk upon his breast, and his face -was like the face of Minos, inscrutable and deadly calm. - -Suddenly the whistle of a speaking tube sounded in the wall. All the -laboratories and experimental rooms were thus connected with the house -proper. None of the servants were allowed to pass the connecting door, -unless by special leave. - -Guest went to the speaking-tube and placed it against his ear--an ear -that was pointed like a goat's ear. - -Then he looked at the tall figure which was pacing the laboratory. -"William," he called out with an impish giggle, "a lady has called to -see you. A lady from Curzon Street!" - -Gouldesbrough stopped short in his walk and raised his head. His face -suddenly became a mask of eager attention and alertness. - -Guest tittered with amusement at the effect which his words had -produced. "Don't be agitated," he said, "and don't look like Henry -Irving when he played Romeo. It isn't the young lady. It's the old one. -It's Lady Poole. The butler has shown her into the study, and she's -waiting to know if you can see her." - -Gouldesbrough did not reply, but left the laboratory at once. Guest -could hear his hurried footsteps echoing along the corridor. Then the -pink-faced man turned to the whisky bottle again. He poured out a -four-finger peg and sat down in the arm-chair which stood by the -vulcanite table which controlled the vast and complicated apparatus of -the thought spectrum. He sipped the whisky and looked at his watch. -"Rathbone's had the cap on for an hour," he said. "Well, he can go on -wearing it for a bit. If William agrees when he comes back it will be -the last time Rathbone will have the pleasure of helping in our -experiments. I may as well take a peep at his thoughts now. Lord! what a -fascinating game it is!" He turned a switch, and all the lights in the -place went out suddenly. Then his fingers found the starting lever of -the machines. - -He moved it, and immediately a low humming sound, as of a drum or fan -revolving at immense speed was heard, far away at the other end of the -laboratory. Then, immediately in front of where the scientist sat, the -great white disc of light, full twelve feet in diameter, suddenly -flashed into view. - -Images and pictures began to form themselves upon the screen. - - * * * * * - -Sir William found old Lady Poole in his study, not sitting placidly in -the most comfortable chair she could find, her usual plan wherever she -might be, but standing upon the hearth-rug and nervously swinging a thin -umbrella, the jewelled handle of which sparkled in the firelight. - -"Ah, William," she said at once in an agitated voice, letting him lead -her to a chair while she was speaking. "Ah, William, I am upset about -Marjorie. I am very upset about the girl. I thought over what was best -to be done, and I determined that I would take the bull by the horns and -come and talk things over with you. That is right, isn't it?" - -There was a little anxiety in the good lady's voice, for, however much -she desired Sir William for a son-in-law and liked him personally, she -was considerably afraid of him in certain of his moods. - -"My dear Lady Poole," he replied with one of his rare and charming -smiles, "there is no one whom I would rather see than you. And I'm sure -that you know that. Tell me all about it." - -His tone was gentle and confidential, and Lady Poole's face brightened -at once. - -"Dear William!" she said. "Well, I've come to you to talk about -Marjorie. Our interests are absolutely identical in regard to her. You -can't want to marry my daughter more than I want to see my daughter -married to you. Lately things have been going well between you both. I -saw that at once; nothing escapes me where Marjorie is concerned. She -was quite forgetting her foolish fancy for that wretched young Rathbone, -owing to his perfectly providential disappearance or death or whatever -it was. Then I made sure that everything had come right at Lord Malvin's -party, and especially when I heard that you were going to call next day. -I went out. I thought it better. And when I came home my maid told me -that Marjorie had not seen you after all. And since then I've kept an -eye on all that was going on, and I'm very seriously disturbed. Anything -I say seems to have no effect. Marjorie will hardly let me mention your -name to her; I cannot understand it at all. Her manner is changed too. -She seems expecting something or some one. My firm conviction is that -she has another fit of pining for young Rathbone. I told her as much -one evening. In fact, I'm afraid I rather lost my temper. 'Guy Rathbone -is most certainly dead,' I told her. 'I was as kind and sympathetic as I -could be,' I said, 'when Mr. Rathbone first disappeared. I very much -disapproved of him, but I recognized you had a certain right to choose -your own future companion, within limits. But now you're simply making -yourself and me miserable and ridiculous, and you're treating one of the -best-hearted and distinguished men in England in a way which is simply -abominable. It's heartless, it's cruel, and you will end by disgusting -society altogether, and we shall have to go and live among the retired -officers at Bruges or some place like that.'" - -Lady Poole paused for breath. She had spoken with extreme volubility and -earnestness, and there were tears in her voice. - -It is a mistake to assume that because people are worldly they are -necessarily heartless too. Lady Poole really loved her daughter, but she -did earnestly desire to see her married to this wealthy and famous man -who seemed to have no other desire. - -Sir William broke in upon the pause. "All you tell me, dear Lady Poole," -he said, "is very chilling and depressing to my dearest hope. But -difficulties were made to be overcome, weren't they? and to the strong -man there are no fears--only shadows. But what answer did Marjorie make -when you said all this to her?" - -"A very strange one, William. She said, 'Guy is not dead, mother. I know -it. I feel it. I feel certain of it. And when I feel this how can I say -anything to Sir William!' Then I asked her if she proposed to keep you -waiting for the rest of both your lives before she said anything -definite. She burst into tears and said that she was very miserable, but -that she intended to say something definite to you after the coming -reception here when you are going to show every one your new invention." - -"Yes," Sir William answered. "She has promised that, but I fear what her -answer will be. Well, we must hope for the best, Lady Poole. If I were -you I shouldn't worry. Leave everything to me. I have everything at -stake." - -"Well, I felt I must come and tell you, William," Lady Poole said. "I -felt that it would help you to know exactly how things stand. Perhaps -all will come well. Girls are very difficult to manage. I wanted -Marjorie to go out a great deal in order to occupy her mind and to keep -her from brooding over this absurd fancy that Guy Rathbone is alive. But -she seems to shun all engagements. However, she's fortunately thought -that she would like to try her hand at writing something, she was -always interested in books, you know. So she's spending a good deal of -time over it--a story I think--and Mr. Donald Megbie is helping her. He -calls now and then and makes suggestions on what she has done. A nice, -quiet little man he seems, and a fervent admirer of yours. I sounded him -on that point the other day. So even this little fancy of Marjorie's for -writing may turn out to be a help. Mr. Megbie is sure to become -enthusiastic if your name is mentioned in any way, and it will keep the -fact of how the world regards you well before Marjorie. Now, good-bye. -It's a relief to have come and told you everything. I must fly, and I -know you will want to get back to your electricity and things." - -Sir William went with her to the garden-gate in the wall, where her -carriage was waiting. Then he went back to the study and took down the -speaking-tube that communicated with the large laboratory. He asked -Wilson Guest to come to him at once. - -In a few minutes the assistant shambled in. His eyes were bright with -the liquid brightness of alcoholic poisoning; his speech was much -clearer and more decided than it had been earlier in the day. It had -tone and _timbre_. The crimson blotches on the face were less in -evidence. Guest had drunk a bottle of whisky since breakfast-time, a -quantity which would hopelessly intoxicate three ordinary men and -probably kill one. But this enormous quantity of spirit was just -sufficient, in the case of this man, to make him as near the normal as -he could ever get. A bottle of whisky in the morning acted upon the -drink-sodden tissues as a single peg might act upon an ordinary person -who was jaded and faint. - -Gouldesbrough knew all the symptoms of his assistant's disease very -well. He recognized that the moment in the day when Guest was most -himself and was most useful had now arrived. The effects of yesterday's -drinking were now temporarily destroyed. - -"I want your help, Wilson," he said, with a strange look in his eyes. "I -want to resume the discussion we were beginning when Lady Poole called. -You are all right now?" - -"Oh yes, William," the man answered without a trace of his usual giggle, -with the former sly malice of his manner quite obliterated. "This is my -good hour. I feel quite fit--for me--and I'm ready. About Rathbone you -mean?" - -"Exactly. Lady Poole has given me to understand that her daughter is -still pining after this person." - -"Call him a _thing_, William. He isn't a person any more. He is just a -part of our machinery, nothing more. And moreover a part of our -machinery that is getting worn out, that we don't want any more, and -that we ought to get rid of." - -"You think so?" - -"I'm certain of it. We must not lose sight of the fact that while there -is life in that body there is always danger for us. Not much danger, I -admit--everything was managed too well in the first instance. But still -there is danger, and a danger that grows." - -"How grows?" - -"Because at the present moment the newspapers of the civilized world are -full of your name. Because the eyes of the whole world are directed -towards this house in Regent's Park." - -"There is something in that, Wilson. Now my thought is that if the body -could actually be found, then Miss Poole would know, with the rest of -the world, that the fellow was actually dead. Could that be managed?" - -Guest lit a cigarette. "I suppose so," he said, thoughtfully. "But that -would be giving up an experiment I had hoped to have had the opportunity -of performing. Human vivisection would give us such an enormous increase -of scientific knowledge. It is only silly sentiment that does not give -the criminal to the surgeon. But have it your own way, William. I will -forego the experiment. It is obvious that if the body is to be found, -there must be no traces of anything of that sort. There would be a -post-mortem of course." - -"Then what do you propose, Guest?" - -"Let me smoke for a moment and think." - -He sat silent for two or three minutes with the heavy eyelids almost -veiling the large bistre-coloured eyes. - -Then he looked up. His smile was so horrible in its cunning that -Gouldesbrough made an involuntary shrinking movement. But it was a -movement dictated by the nerves and not by the conscious brain, for, -dreadful as was the thing Guest was about to say, there was something in -Sir William Gouldesbrough's mind which was more dreadful still. - -"The body shall be found," Guest said, "in the river, somewhere down -Wapping way, anywhere in the densely-populated districts of the Docks. -It shall be dressed in common clothes. When it is discovered and -identified--I know how to arrange a certain identification--it will be -assumed that Rathbone simply went down to the slums and lost himself. -There have been cases known where reputable citizens have suddenly -disappeared from their surroundings of their own free will and dropped -into the lowest kind of life for no explainable reason. De Quincey -mentions such a case in one of his essays." - -"Good. But how can it be done? We can't carry a body to Wapping in a -brown paper parcel." - -"Of course not. But has it not occurred to you that we are close to the -Regent's Canal? I haven't worked out details. They will shape themselves -later on. But there are plenty of barges always going up and down the -canal. Certainly we can do the thing. It is only a question of money. We -have an unlimited command of money. But, listen. Our body is alive -still. It will be quite easy for us--with our knowledge--to treat this -living body with certain preparations, and in such a way that when it is -dead it will present all the appearance of having been killed by excess -in some drug. The post-mortem will disclose it. If we keep it alive -during a month from now, we can make it a morphia maniac to all -appearance. We can inject anything we like into this Rathbone and make -him a slave to some drug, whether he likes it or not!" - -"No, Guest. The really expert pathologist would discover it. It couldn't -be done in a month. It might in six." - -"The really expert pathologist won't perform the post-mortem, William. -There are only ten in London! Some local doctor of the police will apply -the usual tests and discover exactly what we wish him to discover. He -will analyze a corpse. He won't synthesize a history of the corpse. Only -ten men in England could do that with certainty, and you and I are two -of those ten, though it is many years ago since we gave up that sort of -work for physics. So you see your object will be doubly served. The -actual death will be proved, and the fellow's life be discredited while -the apparently true reason of his disappearance will be revealed." - -Sir William looked steadily at his assistant. "Your brain is wonderfully -sufficient," he said. "It is extraordinary how it withstands the ravages -of alcohol. Really, my dear Wilson, you are a remarkable man. All you -say is quite excellent. And, meanwhile, I have a proposal to make." - -He suddenly rose from his chair, and his eyes began to blaze with insane -passion. He shook with it, his whole face was transformed. In his turn -he became abnormal. - -And just as the famous man had thought of the lesser, a moment or two -ago--had regarded him coldly and spoken of him, to him, as a mind -diseased--so now the lesser, stimulated to spurious sanity for the -moment, saw the light of mania in his chief's eyes. - -Two great forces, two great criminals, two horrid egotists, and both -lost men! Lost far more certainly and irrevocably than the prisoned and -dying gentleman far below in the strong room, where the electric fans -whispered all day and night, where the fetters jingled and the heart was -turning to salt stone! - -The man was changed utterly. The grave courtly ascetic vanished as a -breath on glass vanishes. And in his stead stood a creature racked with -evil jealousy and malice, a gaunt inhuman figure in whose eyes was the -glitter of a bird of prey. - -Guest saw the swift and terrible drop into the horrible and the -grotesque. He realized that for a brief moment he was master of the -situation. - -"Tell me, William," he said. "And what is your idea?" - -Gouldesbrough stopped. He turned towards his questioner and shook a -long, threatening arm at him. - -"Why," he said, "all this time the man Rathbone has never known why we -are keeping him in prison. He has never seen me, but day by day you have -descended to his cell, caught him up in the toils of the chains which he -wears, and hoisted him on to the couch. And all this time, when you have -fitted the cap upon his head, the man has known nothing of the reasons. -He is in the dark, mentally, as he is so often in the dark from a -physical point of view, when you, his jailer, see fit to turn off the -light. But now he shall know what we are doing with him. I am going down -to tell him that every thought which has been born in his brain has been -noted and recorded by you and by me. I am going to tell him what we are -going to do with his wretched body. He shall know of your proposals, how -that we, his lords and masters, will simulate in his tissues the -physical appearances of protracted vice. He shall know to-day how his -body will be discovered, and how his memory will be for ever discredited -in the eyes of the world. And I shall tell him to-day, that as he lies -bound and in my power, wearing the helmet of brass which robs him of his -own power of secret thought, that I am going up-stairs to watch his -agony in pictures, and that Marjorie will be with me--that she is -utterly under my influence--and that we shall laugh together as we see -each thought, each agony, chasing one another over the screen. We shall -be together, I shall tell him, my arms will be round her, her lips will -seek mine, and for the first time in the history of the world...." - -He stopped for a moment. His hand went up to his throat as if the -torrent of words were choking him. Then Guest cut in to his insane -ecstasy. - -"You are a fool, William," came from the pink-faced man, in an icy -titter. "Of course when you tell him why and how we have used him, he -will believe it. But I don't think that he will believe in your pleasant -fiction of you and the girl as a sort of latter-day Lacooen in one -arm-chair, laughing together as you take your supreme revenge." - -Gouldesbrough strode up to Guest. He clutched him by the shoulder. "Give -me the keys," he said, "the keys, the keys." - -Guest was not at all dismayed. Laughing still, he put his hand into his -pocket and took out the pass-key of the strong-room. - -"There you are, William," he said; "now go down and enjoy yourself. Our -friend is still tied down on the couch--he's been like that for several -hours, because I've forgotten to go and loose him. I'm going to have -some more whisky, and then I shall go to the big laboratory and switch -on the current. If I'm not very much mistaken, our friend's brain will -provide a series of pictures more intense and vivid, more sharply -defined in both outline and colour, than I have ever seen before, during -the whole course of our experiments." - -Gouldesbrough took the key and was out of the room in a flash. Guest -groped for the decanter. - - * * * * * - -His hair was quite grey now. All the gold had gone from it, just as the -youth had passed from his face--his face which was now the colour of -ashes, and gashed with agony. - -And he lay there, trussed and tied in his material fetters of -india-rubber and aluminium. On his head the gleaming metal cap was -clamped. He was supine and an old man. All the sap had gone from the -fine athlete of a few weeks ago, and the splendid body that had been, -was just a shell, a husk. - -But the soul looked through the eyes still, tortured but undaunted, in -agony but not afraid. - -In the lower silence of that deep cellar where Guy suffered there were -but two sounds. One was the insistent whisper of the electric fan, the -other was the voice which came from Sir William Gouldesbrough as he bent -over the recumbent figure--the broken, motionless figure in which, -still, brave eyes were set like jewels. - -"So now you know! You know it all, you realize, dead man, all that I -have done to you, and all that I am going to do. Down here, in this -little room, you have thought that you were alone. You have imagined -that whatever had happened to you, you were yet alone with the agony of -your thoughts, and with God! But you were not! Though you never knew it -until now, you never were! Each prayer that you thought you were -sending up to the unknown force that rules the world, was caught by me. -For weeks I have daily seen into your soul, and laughed at its -irremediable pain. I have got your body, and for the first time in the -history of the world, your mind, your soul, are mine also." - -The voice stopped for a moment. It had become very harsh and dry. It -clicked and rang with a metallic sound in this torture-chamber far -underground. - -And still the bright eyes watched the body of the man who was possessed, -very calmly, very bravely. - -The horrid voice rose into an insane shriek. - -"She is up-stairs now, the girl you presumed to love, the rose of all -the roses that you dared to come near, is sitting, laughing as she sees -all that you are thinking now, vividly before her in pictures and in -words. In a moment I shall be with her, and together we shall mock your -agonies, twined in each other's arms." - -Perhaps a vault in the dungeons of the Inquisition or in some other -place of horror where merciless men have watched the agonies of their -brethren, has echoed with pure merriment. Who can say, who can tell? - -Such a thing may have happened, but we do not know. But to-night, at -this very moment, from the prone figure stretched on its bed of pain, -from the heart of a man who had just heard that he was doomed to a cruel -death, and robbed of his very individuality, there came a bright and -merry laugh which rang out in that awful place as the Angelus rings over -the evening fields of France, and all the peasants bow in homage to -their Maker. - -And then the voice. "I know now why I am here, and what has been done to -me during these long, leaden hours. I am now at the point of death. But, -with all your devilish cleverness, with all your brilliancy, you are but -as a child. I suppose I shall not see you again, but I forgive you, -Gouldesbrough, forgive you utterly. And it is easier for me to do this, -because I know that you are lying. In this world she still loves me, in -the next she is mine, as I am hers. And it is because you know this that -you come and rant and laugh, and show yourself as the fearful madman -that you are. Good-bye, good-night; I am happier than you as I lie here, -because I know that, for ever and a day, Marjorie loves me and I love -Marjorie. And it won't be any time at all before we meet." - -And once again the laugh that echoed from stone wall to ceiling of -stone, was blithe and confident. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THOUGHTS OF ONE IN DURANCE - - -Once more the cell was only tenanted by the victim. Sir William had -gone, the great door had clanked and clicked, and Guy Rathbone still lay -upon his couch of torture. - -The electric light still shone, as Gouldesbrough had forgotten to turn -it off, or perhaps did not know that this was the invariable custom of -his assistant when Rathbone was clanked and bolted down to his bed of -vulcanite. It was the first visit that Sir William had paid to the -living tomb to which he had consigned his rival. - -Rathbone had laughed indeed, and his laugh was still echoing in the -frenzied brain of the scientist as he mounted upwards to the light of -day. But the laugh, though it had indeed been blithe and confident, had -been a supreme effort of will, of faith and trust, was merely the echo -and symbol of a momentary state which the tortured body and despairing -mind could not sustain. - -Rathbone could not move his head, fixed tight as it was in its collar. -But two great tears rolled from the weakened and trembling eyelids down -the gaunt, grey cheeks. The supreme ecstasy of belief and trust in the -girl he loved, the hope of meeting her again in another world where time -was not and where the period of waiting would be unfelt, passed away -like a thing that falls through water. Once more a frightful emptiness -and fear came down over him like a cloud falls. - -From where his couch was placed, though he could not turn his head, he -could see nearly the whole interior of his cell. There were the concrete -walls, each cranny and depression of which he knew so well. There was -the other, and scarcely less painful, bed upon which he slept, or tried -to sleep at such times when exhausted nature mercifully banished the -pain of his soul. It was not day when he slept, it was not night, for -day and night are things of the world, the world with which he was never -to have any more to do, and which he should never see again with -material eyes. - -There was the little table upon which was the last book they had let him -have, a book brought to him in bitter mockery by Wilson Guest a child's -picture book called "Reading without Tears." And he could see the -network of ropes and india-rubber attachments which went up to the -pulley in the roof, and which rendered him absolutely helpless by means -of the mechanism outside the cell which was set in motion before his -jailor entered. - -There was hardly any need for these ingenious instruments any longer. -The athlete was gaunt and wasted, his skin hung upon him in grey folds. -The gold had faded out of his hair and it was nearly white. The firm and -manly curve of the lips was broken and twisted. The whole mouth was -puckered with pain and torture. It was almost a senile mouth now. Very -little physical strength remained in the body--no, there was hardly any -need for the pulley and ropes now, and soon there would be no need for -them at all, until, perhaps, some other unhappy captive languished in -the grip of these monsters. - -His tired eyes gazed round the cell, and his thoughts were for a moment -numbed into nothingness. There was just a piece of lead at the back of -his brain, that was all. He was conscious of it being there, drowsily -conscious, but no more than that. - -Quite suddenly something seemed to start his mental lethargy, his brain -resumed its functions instantaneously. There was a roaring in his ears -like the sound of a wind, and he awoke to full consciousness and -realization of what Sir William had told him, of the unutterable terror -and frightfulness of his coming doom. All over his face, hands, and -body, beads of perspiration started out in little jets. Then he felt as -if a piece of ice were being slid smoothly down his spine--from the -neck downwards. His hands opened and shut convulsively, gripping at -nothing, and the soles of his feet, in their list slippers, became -suddenly and strangely hot. The collar round his neck seemed to be -throttling him, and his mouth opened, gasping for air. - -Then that deep and hidden chamber was filled with a wail so mournful, -melancholy and hopeless, so dismal and inhuman that the very concrete -walls themselves might also have melted and dissolved away before the -fire of such agony and the sound of such despair. - -He knew the dark and more sinister reason of his captivity, he knew what -they had made him and for what dreadful purpose. - -Ah! It was a supreme revenge. They had stolen him from his love and they -had stolen his very inmost soul from him. All the agonized prayers which -had gone up to God like thin flames had been caught upon their way like -tangible and material things, caught by the devilish power of one man, -and thrown upon the wall for him to see and laugh over. All his -passionate longing for Marjorie, all the messages he tried to frame and -send her through the darkness and the walls of stone, all these had been -but an amusement and a derision for the fiend whose slave he had become. -And all his hatred, his deep cursings of his captor, all his futile -half-formed plans for an escape were all known to the two men. And still -worse, his very memories, his most sacred memories, had been taken from -him and used as a theatre by William Gouldesbrough and Wilson Guest. He -understood now the remarks that the assistant had sometimes made, the -cruel and extraordinary knowledge he seemed to display of things that -had happened in Rathbone's past. It was all quite plain, all terribly -distinct. - -And worst of all, the sacred moments when he had avowed his love for -Marjorie, and she, that peerless maiden, had come to him in answer, -these dear memories, which alone had kept his cooling mind from madness, -were known and exulted over by these men. They had seen him kiss -Marjorie; all the endearments of the lovers had passed before them like -tableaux in a pantomime. Yes; this indeed was more than any brain could -bear. - -Rathbone knew now that he was going mad. - -Of course, God never heard his prayers, they could not get up to God. -Those beasts had caught them in a net and God never heard them. There -had always been that one thought, even in the darkest hour--that thought -that God knew and would come to his aid. - -The face, the rigid face, worked and wrinkled horribly. Ripples of agony -passed up and down it like the ripples upon the wind-blown surface of a -pool. It was not human now any longer, and the curious and lovers of -what is terrible may see such faces in the museum of the mad painter of -pictures at Brussels. - -Then, as a stone falls, consciousness flashed away, though the face -still moved and wrinkled automatically. - -Presently the door of the cell was unlocked, and Wilson Guest came in. -He was rather drunk and rather angry also. - -Sir William had come back from telling Rathbone the truth about what had -been done to him and what they proposed to do. Guest had been waiting in -the study with great expectation. He congratulated himself on having -worked up his patron sufficiently to make him visit Rathbone himself and -inform him of his fate. He had not thought that Gouldesbrough could have -been brought to do any such thing, and he had awaited his chief's -arrival with intense and cynical expectation. - -When at last Sir William did enter the room, his face was very pale, but -the passion of hideous anger had quite gone from it, and it was calm and -quiet. The eyes no longer blazed, the lips were set in their usual -curve. - -"Have you told him, William?" Guest asked in his malicious voice. "Have -you told him everything? Come along, then, let's go into the laboratory -at once and see what he thinks about it." - -There was no response. Sir William seemed as a man in a dream. When at -length he did answer his voice appeared to come from a long distance, -and it was sad and almost kindly. - -"Yes," he said, in that gentle mournful voice; "yes, my friend, I have -told him. Poor, poor fellow! How terrible his thoughts must be now. I -wish I could do something for him. The spectacle of such agony is indeed -terrible. Poor, poor fellow!" - -He sank into a chair, his head fell upon his breast, his fingers -interlocked, and he seemed to be sleeping. - -Guest looked at him for a moment stupidly. The assistant was fuddled -with drink, and could not understand these strange symptoms and -phenomena of a great brain which was swiftly being undermined. - -All he noticed was that Sir William certainly seemed sunk in upon -himself like an old man. - -With a gesture of impatience he left the room and traversed the corridor -until he came to the largest laboratory, where the Thought Spectroscope -instruments were. He turned up the electric light, found the switch -which controlled part of the machinery, moved the switch and turned down -the electric light once more, looking expectantly at the opposite wall. -There was no great circle of light such as he waited for. - -With an oath he stumbled out of the laboratory, not forgetting to lock -it carefully. And then, unlocking another door, a door which formed the -back of a great cupboard in No. C room, a door which nobody ever saw, he -went down a flight of stone steps to those old disused cellars, in one -of which Rathbone was kept. He opened the door and found the captive -still lying upon the vulcanite couch, his face still working like the -face of a mechanical toy, and in a deep swoon. - -Guest hastily unbuckled the straps and released the neck from the -collar. He carried Rathbone to the bed, locked the thin steel chains, -which hung from the roof, upon the anklets and the handcuffs, and then -dashed water repeatedly in his face. - -In his pocket, Mr. Guest invariably carried a supply of liquor. It -sometimes happened that in going from a room where he had exhausted all -the liquor, into another room where he knew he would find more, the two -rooms would be separated by a corridor of some little length, and it -sometimes happened that Mr. Guest needed a drink when he arrived in the -middle of the corridor. So he always carried a large, silver-mounted -flask in the pocket of his coat. He unscrewed this now and poured some -whisky down the captive's throat. In a minute or two a faint tinge of -colour appeared upon the cheekbones, and with a shudder and sob the -tortured soul came back to the tortured body, which even yet it was not -to be suffered to leave. - -"That's better," Mr. Guest remarked. "I thought you had gone off, I -really did. Not yet, my dear boy, not yet. Would not do at all. Would -not suit our purpose. I'm sure you won't be so disobliging as to treat -us in such a shabby way after all we have done for you. I understand -William has told you of the delicate attentions by which we propose to -make your exit as interesting and as valuable to science as possible." - -Rathbone looked at him steadily. He spoke to him in a weak, thin voice. - -"Yes," he said, "I know now, I know everything. But have you no single -spark of pity or compassion within you, that you can come here to mock -and gloat over a man who is surely suffering more than any one else has -ever suffered in the history of the world? Is it impossible to touch you -or move you in any way?" - -Mr. Guest rubbed his hands with huge enjoyment. - -"Ah!" he said chuckling, while the pink, hairless face was one mask of -pleasure. "Ah, that is how I have been wanting to hear you talk for a -long, long time. I thought we should break you down at last, though. For -my part I should have told you long before, only William thought that -you would not give yourself away about Miss Marjorie Poole if you knew -that we saw it all. However, we know now, so it don't matter. Dear -little girl she is, Mr. Rathbone. Sir William sees her every day. She -thinks you have gone off with a barmaid and are living quite happily, -helping her to manage a pub. in the East. Sir William sees her every -day, and she sits on his knee, and they kiss each other and laugh about -being in love. Charming, isn't it? Fancy you talking to me like that. -Pity? Pity? Aren't I your best friend? Don't I bring you your food every -day? And didn't I give you a drink just now? That's more than William -did. And besides to-morrow aren't I going to begin the injections that -in a month's time or so will make you appear a confirmed dipsomaniac, -just before I come down here and hold your head in a bucket of water -until you are drowned? Then, dress your body in nice, dirty clothes and -have you dropped in the Thames just above Wapping. Oh, Mr. Rathbone, how -could you say such cruel things to your good friend, Mr. Wilson Guest? -Well, I must be going. I don't think you will want anything more -to-night, will you? Good night. Sleep pleasantly. I am going to go to -bed myself, and I shall lie awake thinking of the fun there will be at -the inquest when the Doctor reports after the post-mortem that you were -a confirmed drunkard, and all the world, including Miss Marjorie Poole, -will know the real truth about Guy Rathbone's disappearance." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -HOW THEY ALL WENT TO THE HOUSE IN REGENT'S PARK - - -The little door in the wall of Sir William Gouldesbrough's old Georgian -house stood wide open. Carriages were driving up, and the butler was -constantly ushering visitors into the vast sombre hall, while a footman -kept escorting this or that arrival up the gravel path among the laurel -bushes. - -It was afternoon, a dull and livid afternoon. Clouds had come down too -near to London, and thunder lurked behind them. Never at any time a -cheerful place, the old walled house of the scientist to-day wore its -most depressing aspect. - -The well-known people, who were invited to the demonstration of a -stupendous and revolutionary discovery, looked with ill-concealed -curiosity at the house, the garden, and the gloomy dignity of the hall. - -There has always been a great deal of surmise and curiosity about Sir -William's home and private life. That so distinguished a man was a -bachelor was in itself an anomaly; and, though Gouldesbrough went -continually into society, when he himself entertained it was generally -at restaurants, except in very rare instances. So the world of London -had come to regard the house in Regent's Park as a sort of wizard's -cave, a secret and mysterious place where the modern magician evolved -wonders which were to change the whole course of modern life. - -About forty people had been invited to the demonstration. - -Lord Malvin was there, of course. He came in company with Donald Megbie -and Sir Harold Oliver. - -All three men seemed singularly grave and preoccupied, and, as the other -guests noted the strange, and even stern, expression upon Lord Malvin's -face, they whispered that the leader of the scientific world felt that -on this day he was to be deposed and must resign his captaincy for ever. - -But in this case, as it generally is, gossip was at fault. Nobody knew -of the strange conference which had been held by Donald Megbie with Lord -Malvin and Sir Harold Oliver. Nobody knew how Miss Marjorie Poole had -driven up to Lord Malvin's house in Portland Place one afternoon with -Donald Megbie. Nobody would have believed, even if they had been told, -how the two grave scientists (who realized that, however many truths are -discovered, there still lie hidden forces which we shall never -understand this side of the Veil) had listened to the extraordinary -story the journalist and the society girl had to tell. - -Therefore, on this important afternoon, though Lord Malvin's seriousness -was commented upon, it was entirely misunderstood. - -Various other scientists from France, Germany and America were present. -Donald Megbie, the editor of the _Eastminster Gazette_, and a famous -novelist represented the press and the literary world. - -The Bishop of West London, frail, alert, his grey eyes filled with -eagerness, was one of the guests. Dean Weare came with him, and the -political world had sent three ambassadors in the persons of Mr. Decies, -the Home Secretary, Sir James Clouston and Sir William Ellrington. There -was an academician who looked like a jockey, and a judge who looked like -a trainer. The rest of the guests were all well-known people, who, if -they were not particularly interested in science, were yet just the -people who could not be ignored on an important occasion. That is to -say, they belonged to that little coterie of men and women in London -who have no other _metier_ than to be present at functions of extreme -importance! For no particular reason they have become fixtures, and -their personalities are entirely merged in the unearned celebrity of -their name and the apparent necessity for their presence. - -The men in their black frock coats passed over the great galleried hall -like ghosts, and the white furs of the ladies, and the grey plumes and -feathers of their hats, did little to relieve the general note of -sadness, or to bring any colour into Sir William Gouldesbrough's house. -Among the last arrivals of all were Lady Poole and her daughter. - -The guests had congregated in the hall where servants were handing about -tea, and where two great fires warmed the air indeed, but could not -destroy the sense of mental chill. - -Sir William had not yet made his appearance, and it was understood that -when the party was complete the butler was to lead them straight to the -laboratories. The fact marked the seriousness of the occasion. - -This was no social party, no scientific picnic, at which one went to see -things which would interest and amuse, and to chatter, just as one -chatters at an exhibition of water-colours in Pall Mall. Everybody felt -this, everybody knew it, and everybody experienced a sense of awe and -gravity as befitted people who were about to witness something which -would mark an epoch in the history of the world and change the whole -course of human life. - -As Marjorie Poole came into the hall with her mother, every one saw that -she looked ill. Her face was pale, there were dark rings under her eyes; -and, as she stepped over the threshold of the door, one or two people -noticed that she shivered. It was remarked also, that directly the two -ladies entered, Lord Malvin, Sir Harold Oliver, and Mr. Megbie went up -to them in a marked manner, and seemed to constitute themselves as a -sort of bodyguard for the rest of the stay in the hall. - -"She does not look much like a girl who is engaged to the most -successful man of the day, does she?" Mrs. Hoskin-Heath said to Lord -Landsend. - -"No, you are right," Lord Landsend whispered. "She is afraid Sir -William's machine won't work, and that the whole thing won't come off, -don't you know. And, for my part, though I don't profess to understand -exactly what Sir William is going to show us, I bet a fiver that it is -not more wonderful than things I have seen scores of times at Maskelyne -and Cook's. Wonderful place that, Mrs. Hoskin-Heath. I often go there on -a dull afternoon; it makes one's flesh creep, 'pon my word it does. I -have been there about fifty times, and I have never yet felt safe from -the disappearing egg." - -The butler was seen to come up to Lord Malvin and ask him a question. -The peer looked round, and seemed to see that every one was prepared to -move. He nodded to the man, who crossed the hall, bowed, and opened a -door to the right of the great central staircase. - -"My master tells me to say, my lord," he said, addressing Lord Malvin, -but including the whole of the company in his gaze--"my master tells me -to say that he will be very much obliged if you will come into the -laboratory." - -A footman went up to the door and held it open, while the butler, with a -backward look, disappeared into the passage, and led the way towards the -real scene of the afternoon's events. - -As that throng of famous people walked down the long corridor, which led -past the study door, not a single one of them knew or could surmise that -all and severally they were about to experience the emotion of their -lives. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE DOOM BEGINS - - -The visitors found themselves in the laboratory, a large building lit by -means of its glass roof. - -Sir William Gouldesbrough, dressed in a grey morning suit, received -them. He shook hands with one or two, and bowed to the rest; but there -was no regular greeting of each person who came in. - -At one side of the laboratory were three long rows of arm-chairs, built -up in three tiers on platforms, much in the same way as the seats are -arranged for hospital students in an operating theatre. - -The guests were invited to take their places, and in a minute or two had -settled themselves, the more frivolous and non-scientific part of them -whispering and laughing together, as people do before the curtain rises -at a play. This is what they saw. - -About two yards away from the lowest row of seats, which was practically -on the floor level, the actual apparatus of the discovery began. Upon -specially constructed tables, on steel supports, which rose through the -boarding of the floor, were a series of machines standing almost the -whole length of the room. - -Upon the opposite wall to the spectators was a large screen, upon which -the Thought Pictures were to be thrown. - -Save for the strange apparatus in all its intricacy of brass and -vulcanite, coiled wire and glass, there was more than a suggestion of -the school-room in which the pupils are entertained by a magic-lantern -exhibition. - -Marjorie Poole and her mother sat next to Lord Malvin, on either side of -him, while Donald Megbie, Sir Harold Oliver, and the Bishop of West -London were immediately to their right and left. - -Gouldesbrough had not formally greeted Marjorie, but as he stood behind -his apparatus ready to begin the demonstration, he flashed one bright -look at her full of triumph and exultation. Megbie, who was watching -very closely, saw that the girl's face did not change or soften, even at -this supreme moment, when the unutterable triumph of the man who loved -her was about to be demonstrated to the world. - -Amid a scene of considerable excitement on the part of the -non-scientific of the audience, and the strained tense attention of the -famous scientists, Sir William Gouldesbrough began. - -"My Lord, my illustrious _confreres_, ladies and gentlemen, I have to -thank you very much for all coming here this afternoon to see the law -which I have discovered actually applied by means of mechanical -processes, which have been adapted, invented and made by myself and my -brilliant partner and helper, Mr. Wilson Guest." - -As he said this, Sir William turned towards the end of the room where -his assistant was busy bending over one of the machines. - -The man, with the large hairless face, was pale, and his fingers were -shaking, as they moved about among the screws and wires. He did not look -up as Gouldesbrough paid him this just tribute, though every one of the -spectators turned towards him at the mention of his name. - -Truth to tell, Mr. Wilson Guest was, for the first time for many years, -absolutely bereft of all alcoholic liquor since the night before. For -the first time in their partnership Gouldesbrough had insisted upon -Guest's absolute abstention. He had never done such a thing before, as -he pointed out to his friend, but on this day he said his decision was -final and he meant to be obeyed. - -The frenzied entreaties of the poor wretch about mid-day, his miserable -abasement and self-surrender, as he wept for his poison, were useless -alike. He had been forced to yield, and at this moment he was suffering -something like torture. It was indeed only by the greatest effort of his -weakened will that he could attend to the mechanical duties of adjusting -the sensitive machines for the demonstration which was to follow. - -"I cannot suppose that any of you here are now unaware of the nature of -my experiments and discovery. It has been ventilated in the press so -largely during the last few days, and Mr. Donald Megbie has written such -a lucid account of the influence which he believes the discovery will -have upon modern life, that I am sure you all realize something of the -nature of what I am about to show you. - -"To put it very plainly, I am going to show you how thought can be -collected in the form of vibrations, in the form of fluid electric -current, and collected directly from the brain of the thinker as he -thinks. - -"I am further going to demonstrate to you how this current can be -transformed into a visible, living and actual representation of the -thoughts of the thinker." - -He stopped for a moment, and there was a little murmur from his guests. -Then he went on. - -"Before proceeding to actual experiment, it is necessary that I should -give you some account of the means by which I have achieved such -marvellous results. I do not propose to do this in extremely technical -language, for were I to do so, a large portion of those here this -afternoon would not be able to follow me. I shall proceed to explain in -words, which I think most of you will understand. - -"My illustrious _confreres_ in Science will follow me and understand the -technical aspect of what I am going to put into very plain language, and -to them especially I would say that, after the actual experiment has -been conducted, I shall beg them to examine my apparatus and to go into -the matter with me from a purely scientific aspect. - -"And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me begin. - -"That light is transmitted by waves in the ether is abundantly proved, -but the nature of the waves and the nature of the ether have, until the -present, always been uncertain. It is known that the ultimate particles -of bodies exist in a state of vibration, but it cannot be assumed that -the vibration is purely mechanical. Experiment has proved the existence -of magnetic and electric strains in the ether, and I have found that -electro-magnetic strains are propagated with the same speed as that of -which light travels. - -"You will now realize, to put it in very simple language, that the -connection between light and what the man in the street would call -currents, or waves of electricity, is very intimate. When I had fully -established this in my own mind, I studied the physiology of the human -body for a long period. I found that the exciting agents in the nerve -system of the animal frame are frequently electric, and by experimenting -upon the nerve system in the human eye, I found that it could be excited -by the reception of electro-magnetic waves. - -"In the course of my experiments I began more and more frequently to ask -myself, 'What is the exact nature of thought?' - -"You all know how Signor Marconi can send out waves from one of his -transmitters. I am now about to tell you that the human brain is nothing -more nor less than an organism, which, in the process of thought, sends -out into the surrounding ether a number of subtle vibrations. But, as -these vibrations are so akin in their very essence to the nature of -light, it occurred to me that it might be possible to gather them -together as they were given off, to direct them to a certain point, and -then, by means of transforming them into actual light, pass that light -through a new form of spectroscope; and, instead of coloured rays being -projected upon a screen through the prism of the instrument, the actual -living thought of the brain would appear for every one to see. - -"This is, in brief, precisely what I have done, and it is precisely -what I am going to show you in a few minutes. Having given you this -briefest and slightest outline of the law I have discovered and proved, -I will explain to you something of the mechanical means by which I have -proved it, and by which I am going to show it to you in operation." - -He stopped once more, and moved a little away from where he had been -standing. Every one was now thoroughly interested. There was a tremulous -silence as the tall, lean figure moved towards a small table on which -the shining conical cap, or helmet of brass, lay. - -Sir William took up the object and held it in his right hand, so that -every one could see it distinctly. From the top, where the button of an -ordinary cap would be, a thin silk-covered wire drooped down to the -floor and finally rose again and disappeared within a complicated piece -of mechanism a few feet away. - -"This cap," Sir William said, "is placed upon the head of a human being. -You will observe later that it covers the whole of the upper part of the -head down to the eyes, and also descends behind to the nape of the neck -and along each side of the neck to the ears. - -"A person wearing this cap is quite unconscious of anything more than -the mere fact of its weight upon his head. But what is actually going on -is, that every single thought he secretes is giving off this vibration, -not into the ether, but within the space enclosed by the cap. These -vibrations cannot penetrate through the substance with which the cap is -lined, and in order to obtain an outlet, they can only use the outlet -which I have prepared for them. This is placed in the top of the cap, -and is something like those extremely delicate membranes which receive -the vibrations of the human voice in a telephone and transmit them along -a wire to the receiver at the other end of it." - -He put down the cap, and looked towards his audience. Not a single -person moved in the very least. The distinguished party, tier upon tier, -might have been a group of wooden statues painted and coloured to -resemble the human form. Sir William moved on. - -"Here," he said, "is a piece of apparatus enclosed in this box, which -presented the first great difficulty in the course of the twenty years -during which I have been engaged upon this work. Within this wooden -shell," he tapped it with his fingers, "the thought vibrations, if I may -call them so, are collected and transformed into definite and separate -_electric_ currents. Every single variation in their strength or quality -is changed into a corresponding electric current, which, in its turn, -varies from its fellow currents. So far, I have found that from between -3,000 to 4,000 different currents, differing in their tensity and their -power, are generated by the ordinary thoughts of the ordinary human -being. - -"You may take it from me, as I shall presently show my scientific -brethren, that within this box Thought Vibrations are transformed into -_electric_ currents." - -He passed on to a much larger machine, which was connected by a network -of wires covered with crimson and yellow silk, to the mahogany box which -he had just left. - -The outside of the new piece of apparatus resembled nothing so much as -one of those enormous wine-coolers which one sees in big restaurants or -hotels. It was a large square case standing upon four legs. But from the -lid of this case rose something which suggested a very large -photographic camera, but made of dull steel. The tube, in which the lens -of an ordinary camera is set, was in this case prolonged for six or -seven feet, and was lost in the interior of the next machine. - -And now, for the first time, the strained ears of the spectators caught -a note of keen vibration and excitement in Sir William Gouldesbrough's -voice. He had been speaking very quietly and confidently hitherto; but -now the measured utterance rose half a tone; and, as when some great -actor draws near in speech to the climax of the event he mimics, so Sir -William also began to be agitated, and so also the change in tone sent a -thrill and quiver through the ranks of those who sat before him. - -"Here," he said, "I have succeeded in transforming my electric currents -into light. That is nothing, you may think for a moment, the electric -current produces light in your own houses at any moment; but you must -remember that in your incandescent bulbs the light is always the same in -its quality. Light of this sort, passed through the prism of a -spectroscope will always tell the same story when the screen presents -itself for analysis. My problem has been to produce an infinite variety -of light, so that every single thought vibration will produce, when -transformed, its own _special_ and _individual_ quality of light, and -that," he concluded, "I have done." - -Sir Harold Oliver, who had been leaning forward with grey eyes so -strained and intent that all the life seemed to have gone out of them -and they resembled sick pearls, gave a gasp as Sir William paused. - -Then Gouldesbrough continued. - -He placed his hand upon the thing like a camera which rose from the lid -of the larger structure below it. - -"Within this chamber," he said, "all the light generated below is -collected and focussed. It passes in one volume through this object." - -He moved onwards, as he spoke, running his fingers along the pipe which -led him to the next marvel in this stupendous series. - -"I have now come," he began again, "to what Mr. Guest and myself might -perhaps be allowed to think as our supreme triumph. Here is our -veritable Thought Spectroscope within this erection, which, as you will -observe, is much larger than anything else I have shown you. The light -which pours along that tube is passed through, what I will only now -designate as a prism, to keep the analogy of the light spectroscope, and -is split up into its component parts. - -"You will see that, rising out of this iron box," he ran his hand over -the sides of it as if he loved it, "the lens projects just like the lens -of a bioscope. This lens is directed full upon that great white screen -which is exactly opposite to you all; and this is my final demonstration -of the mechanism which I am now about to set in motion to prove to you -that I have now triumphed over the hitherto hidden Realm of Thought. -From this lens I shall pour upon the screen in a minute or two for you -all to see, without doubt and in simple view, the thoughts of the man or -woman on whom I shall place the cap." - -He ceased. The first part of the demonstration was over. - -Lord Malvin rose in his seat. His voice was broken by emotion. - -"Sir," he said, "I know, none better perhaps in this room, of the -marvellous series of triumphs which have led you to this supreme moment. -I know how absolutely and utterly true all you have told us is, and I -know that we are going to witness your triumph." - -He turned round to the people behind him. - -"We are going to see," he said, "the human soul laid bare for the first -time in the history of the world." - -Then he turned once more to Sir William, and his voice, though still -full of almost uncontrollable emotion, became deep and stern. - -"Sir William Gouldesbrough," he said, "I have to salute you as the -foremost scientist of all time, greater than Newton, greater than -Darwin, greater than us all. And I pray to God that you have used the -great talent He has given you in a worthy way, and I pray that, if you -have done this, you will always continue to do so; for surely it is only -for some special reason that God has allowed you this mastery." - -He ceased, and there was rustle and hum of movement among all the -people, as this patriarch lifted his voice with almost a note of -warning and menace in it. - -It was all so unusual, so unexpected--why did this strange prophetic -note come into the proceedings? What was hidden in the old man's brain? - -Every one felt the presence, the unseen presence of deep waters and -hidden things. - -Marjorie Poole had bowed her head, she was absolutely motionless. There -was a tension in the air. - -Sir William Gouldesbrough's head was bowed also, as he listened with -courteous deference to the words of one whose name had been chief and -most honoured in the scientific world for so many years. Those who -watched him remarked afterwards that he seemed to be stricken into stone -for a moment, as words which were almost a veiled accusation pealed out -into the great room. - -Then they saw Sir William once more himself in a swift moment. His eyes -were bright and there was a look of triumph on his face. - -"I thank you, Lord Malvin," he said, in a voice which was arrogant and -keen, "I thank you for your congratulations, your belief, and for your -hopes for me; and now my lord, ladies, and gentlemen, shall we not -proceed to the actual demonstration? - -"I am going to ask that one of you come down from your seat and allow me -to place the cap upon your head. I shall then darken the laboratory, -and the actual thoughts of the lady or gentleman who submits herself or -himself to the experiment will be thrown upon the screen." - -There was a dead silence now, but most of the people there looked at -each other in doubt and fear. - -It might well be that, confronted for the first time in their lives with -the possibility of the inmost secrets of their souls being laid bare, -the men and women of the world would shrink in terror. Who of us, -indeed, is able to look clearly and fairly into his own heart, and -realize in very actual truth what he is! Do we not, day by day, and hour -by hour, apply the flattering unction to our souls that we aren't so -very bad after all; that what we did last week, and what, -sub-consciously we know we shall do again in the week that is coming, is -only the result of a temperament which cannot be controlled in this or -that particular, and that we have many genial virtues--not exactly -specified or defined--which make it all up to a high level of conduct -after all? - -Yes! There was a silence there, as indeed there would have been in any -other assembly when such a proposal was made. - -They were all ashamed, they were all frightened. They none of them dared -submit themselves to this ordeal. - -And as they looked at their host they saw that a faint and mocking -smile was playing about his mouth, and that the eyes above it flamed and -shone. - -Then they heard his voice once more, and the new and subtle quality of -mockery had crept into that also. - -"Ladies and gentlemen, I am waiting for one of you to give me an -opportunity of proving all that I have told you." - -"My lord, will not you afford me the great privilege of being the first -subject of the new experiment?" - -Lord Malvin looked very straightly and rather strangely at Sir William -Gouldesbrough. - -"Sir," he said, "I am not afraid to display my thoughts to this company, -but shall I be the first person who has ever done so? Of course not. You -have had other subjects for experiment, whether willing or unwilling--I -do not know." - -Once again the guests saw Sir William's face change. What strange and -secret duel, they asked themselves, was going on before them? How was it -that Lord Malvin and Sir William Gouldesbrough seemed to be in the twin -positions of accuser and accused? - -What was all this? - -Lord Malvin continued-- - -"I am ready to submit myself, Sir William, in the cause of Science. But -I would ask you, very, very earnestly, if you desire that the thoughts -that animate me at this moment should be given to every one here?" - -Gouldesbrough stepped back a pace as though some one had struck him. -There was a momentary and painful silence. And then it was that the -Bishop of West London rose in his place. - -"Sir William," he said, "I shall be highly honoured if you will allow me -to be the first subject. I shall fix my thoughts upon some definite -object, and then we shall see if my memory is good. I have only just -come back from a holiday in the Holy Land, and it will give me great -pleasure to sit in your chair and to try and construct some memories of -Jerusalem for you all." - -With that the Bishop stepped down on to the floor of the laboratory, and -sat in the chair which Sir William indicated. - -The spectators saw the brass cap carefully fitted on the prelate's head. - -Then Sir William stepped to the little vulcanite table upon which the -controlling switches were--there was a click, shutters rolled over the -sky-lights in the roof, already obscured by the approach of evening, and -the electric lights of the laboratory all went out simultaneously. The -darkness was profound. The great experiment had begun. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE DOOM CONTINUES - - -They were all watching, and watching very intently. All they could see -was a bright circle of light which flashed out upon the opposite wall. -It was just as though they were watching an ordinary exhibition of the -magic-lantern or the cinematograph. - -And suddenly, swiftly, these world-worn and weary people of society, -these scientists who lived by measure and by rule, saw that all Sir -William Gouldesbrough had said was true--and truer than he himself knew. - -For upon this white screen, where all their eyes were fixed, there came -a picture of the Holy City, and it was a picture such as no single -person there had ever seen before. - -For it was not that definite and coloured presentment of a scene caught -by the camera and reproduced through the mechanical means of a lens, -which is a thing which has no soul. It was the picture of that Holy -City to which all men's thoughts turn in trouble or in great crises of -their lives. And it was a picture coloured by the imagination of the man -who had just come back from Jerusalem, and who remembered it in the -light of the Christian Faith and informed it with all the power of his -own personality. - -They saw the sharp outlines of the olive trees, immemorially old, as a -fringe to the picture. The sun was shining, the white domes and roofs -were glistening, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre loomed up large in -this vista, seen through a temperament, and through a memory, and seen -from a hill. - -For a brief space, they all caught their breath and shuddered at the -marvellous revelation of the power and magnificence of thought which was -revealed to them at that moment. And then they watched the changing, -shifting phantom, which was born from the thought of this good man, with -a chill and shudder at the incredible wonder of it all. - -The afternoon, as it has been said, was thunderous and grim. While the -representatives of the world that matters had been listening to Sir -William, the forces of nature had been massing themselves upon the -frontier-line of experience and thought. And now, at this great moment, -the clouds broke, the thunder stammered, and in that darkened place the -white and amethyst lightning came and flickered like a spear thrown from -immensity. - -The gong of the thunder, the crack and flame of the lightning, passed. -There was a dead silence. Still the spectators saw the mapped landscape -of the Holy City shining before them, glad, radiant and serene. - -And then, old Lady Poole dropped her fan--a heavy fan made of ebony and -black silk. It clattered down the tier of seats and brought an alien -note into the tension and the darkness of the laboratory. - -Everybody started in the gloom. There was a little momentary flutter of -excitement. And, as they all watched the gleaming circle of light upon -which the brain of the Bishop had painted his memories so truthfully and -well, they saw a sudden change. The whole, beautiful picture became -troubled, misty. It shook like a thing seen through water at a great -depth. - -Then the vision of the City where God suffered went straight away. There -was no more of it. It vanished as a breath breathed upon a window clouds -and vanishes. - -The concentration of mind of the Bishop must then--as it was said -afterwards--have been interrupted by the sudden sound of the falling -fan, for all those celebrated men and women who sat and watched saw dim -grey words, like clouds of smoke which had formed themselves into the -written symbols of speech, appear in the light. - -And these were the words-- - -"God will not allow----" - -At that moment the silence was broken by a tiny sound. It is always the -small sound that defines blackness and silence. - -Sir William, who perhaps had realized where the thoughts of the Bishop -were leading him, who had doubtless understood the terror of the naked -soul, the terror which he himself had made possible, switched on the -light. The whole laboratory was illuminated, and it was seen that the -people were looking at each other with white faces; and that the folk, -who were almost strangers, were grasping each other by the wrist. And -the Bishop himself was sitting quietly in the chair, with a very pale -face and a slight smile. - -At that moment the people who had come to catch the visual truth of this -supreme wonder, rose as one man. Voices were heard laughing and sobbing; -little choked voices mingled and merged in a cacophany of fear. - -It was all light now, light and bright, and these men and women of the -world were weeping on each other's shoulders. - -The Bishop rose. - -"Oh, please," he said, "please, my dears, be quiet. This is wonderful, -this is inexplicable, but we have only begun. Let us see this thing -through to the very, very end. Hush! Be quiet! There is no reason, nor -is there any need, for hysteria or for fear." - -The words of the Churchman calmed them all. They looked at him, they -looked at each other with startled eyes, and once more there was a great -and enduring silence. - -Then Sir William spoke. His face was as pale as linen; he was not at all -the person whom they had seen half-an-hour ago--but he spoke swiftly to -them. - -"His Lordship," he said, "has given us one instance of how the brain -works, and he has enabled us to watch his marvellous memory of what he -has so lately seen. And now, I will ask some one or other of you to come -down here and help me." - -Young Lord Landsend looked at Mrs. Hoskin-Heath and winked. - -"I shall be very pleased, Sir William," he said in the foolish, staccato -voice of his class and kind, "I shall be very pleased, Sir William, to -think for you and all the rest of us here." - -Lord Landsend stumbled down from where he sat and went towards the -chair. As he did so, there were not wanting people who whispered to -each other that a penny for his thoughts was an enormous price to pay. -The cap was fitted on his head; they all saw it gleaming there above the -small and vacuous face; and then once more the lights went out. - -The great circle of white light upon the screen remained fixed and -immovable. No picture formed itself or occurred within the frame of -light and shadow. For nearly a minute the circle remained unsullied. - -Then Mrs. Hoskin-Heath began to titter. Every one, relieved from the -tension of the first experiment, joined her in her laugh. They all -realized that young Lord Landsend could not think, and had not any -thoughts at all. In the middle of their laughter, which grew and rose -until the whole place was filled with it, the young man, doubtless -spurred on by this unaccustomed derision, began to think. - -And what they all saw was just this--some one they had all seen before, -many times, after dinner. - -They simply saw, in rather cloudy colour, Miss Popsy Wopsy, the -celebrated Gaiety girl, alertly doing things of no importance, while the -baton of the conductor made a moving shadow upon the chiffon of her -frock. - -And so here was another brain, caught up, classified and seen. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -MR. WILSON GUEST MAKES A MISTAKE - - -Mr. Wilson Guest had seen all this many times before. The actual -demonstration would have given him amusement and filled him with that -odd secret pride which was the only reward he asked from that science -which he had followed so long under different conditions than the -present. - -If Sir William Gouldesbrough had not absolutely prohibited the use of -any alcohol upon that day, Guest might have been normal and himself. It -was in this matter that Sir William made a great mistake. In his extreme -nervousness and natural anxiety, he forgot the pathology of his subject, -and did not realize how dangerous it is to rob a man of his drug, and -then expect him to do his work. - -Guest's assistance had been absolutely necessary in the first instance, -in order to prepare the various parts of the Thought Spectrum, and to -ensure the proper working of the machinery. - -But now, when all that was done, when the demonstration was actually -going on and everything was working smoothly and well, there was no -immediate need at the moment for Guest's presence in the laboratory. - -Accordingly, while Lord Landsend was vainly trying to secrete thought, -Wilson Guest slipped out by the side-door in the dark. He was in a long -passage leading to the other experimental rooms, and he heaved a great -sigh of relief. High above in the air, the thunder could still be heard -growling, but the corridor itself, lit by its rows of electric lights -and softly carpeted, seemed to the wretched man nothing but an avenue to -immediate happiness. - -He shambled and almost trotted towards the dining-room in the other part -of the house, where he knew that he would find something to drink -quicker than anywhere else. He crossed the big hall and went into the -dining-room. No one was there. - -It was a panelled room with a softly glowing wood fire upon the hearth, -and heavy crimson curtains shutting out the dying lights of the day. On -a gleaming mahogany sideboard were bottles of cut-glass, ruby, diamond, -and amber; bottles in which the soft firelight gleamed and was repeated -in a thousand twinkling points. - -A loud sob of relief burst from the drunkard, and he went up to the -sideboard with the impish greed and longing that one sees in some great -ape. - -And now, as his shadow, cast upon the wall in the firelight, parodied -and distorted all his movements, there seemed _two_ obscene and evil -creatures in the rich and quiet room. It was as though the man with his -huge hairless face were being watched and waited for by an ape-like -ambassador from hell. - -Guest clutched the mahogany sideboard and, his fingers were so hot that -a greyness like that of damp breath on frosted glass glowed out upon the -wood--it seemed as if the man's very touch brought mildew and blight. - -Guest ran his eye rapidly along the decanters. His throat felt as though -it was packed with hot flour. His mouth tasted as if he had been sucking -a brass tap. His tongue was swollen and his lips were hard, cracked, and -feverish. He snatched the brandy bottle from a spirit-case, and poured -all that was in it into a heavy cut-glass tumbler. Then, looking round -for more, for the tantalus had not been more than one-fourth part full, -he saw a long wicker-covered bottle of curacao, and he began to pour -from it into the brandy. Then, without water, or mineral water, he began -to gulp down this astonishing and powerful mixture, which, in a fourth -of its quantity, would probably have struck down the ordinary man, as a -tree snaps and falls in a sudden wind. - -It had been Guest's intention to take enough alcohol to put him into -something like a normal condition, and then to return to the laboratory -to assist at the concluding scenes of the demonstration, and to enjoy it -in his own malicious and sinister fashion. But as the liquor seemed to -course through his veins and to relieve them of the intolerable strain, -as he felt his whole body respond to the dose of poison to which he had -accustomed it, thoughts of returning to the laboratory became very dim -and misty. - -Here was this large comfortable room with its panelled walls, its old -family portraits in their massive gilt frames, this fire of wood logs in -a great open hearth, sending out so pleasant and hospitable an -invitation to remain. Every fibre of the wretch's body urged him to take -the twilight hour and enjoy it. - -Guest sat down in a great arm-chair, padded with crimson leather, and -gazed dreamily into the white heart of the fire. - -He felt at peace, and for five minutes sat there without movement, -looking in the flickering firelight like some grotesque Chinese -sculpture, some god of darkness made by a silent moon-faced man on the -far shores of the Yang-tze-Kiang. - -Then Mr. Guest began to move again; the fuel that he had taken was -burning out. The man's organism had become like one of those toy engines -for children, which have for furnace a little methyl lamp, and which -must be constantly renewed if the wheels of the mechanism are to -continue to revolve. - -Mr. Guest rose from the arm-chair and shambled over to the sideboard -again. The bottle of curacao was still almost full, though there did not -appear to be any more brandy. - -That would do, he thought, and he poured from the bottle into his glass -as if he had been pouring beer. The wretched man had forgotten that, in -his present state--a state upon the very verge of swift and hidden -paroxysm and of death--the long abstention of the morning and afternoon -had modified his physiological condition. Moreover, the suddenness of -these stealthy potations in the dining-room began to have their way with -him. He was a man whom it was almost impossible to make intoxicated, as -the ordinary person understands intoxication. When Guest was drunk, his -mind became several shades more evil, that was all. - -But at this moment the man succumbed, and in half-an-hour his brain was -absolutely clouded and confused. He had forgotten both time and -occasion, and could not think coherently. - -At last he seemed to realize this himself. He rose to his feet and, -clutching hold of the dining-room table, swayed and lurched towards the -dining-room door. There was a dim consciousness within him of something -which was imminently necessary to be done, but which he had forgotten or -was unable to recall. - -"What was it?" he kept asking himself with a thick indistinctness. "I -knew I had somethin' to do, somethin' important, can't think what it -was." - -At that moment his hand, which he had thrust into his pocket, touched a -key. - -"I've got it," he said, "'course, I know now. I must go down and put the -cap on Rathbone, after I have injected the alcohol preparation. William -and I want to sit in front of the screen and follow his thoughts; they -are funnier than they ever used to be before we told him what we were -doing to him. I'll just take one more drink, then I'll go down-stairs to -the cellars at once." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -AT LAST! - - -When the sounds of amused laughter at Lord Landsend's unconscious -revelation had passed away, and that young nobleman, slightly flushed -indeed, but still with the imperturbability that a man of his class and -kind learns how to wear on all occasions, had regained his seat, a fire -of questions poured in upon Sir William Gouldesbrough. - -The famous scientists of the party had all risen and were conferring -together in a ripple of rapid and exciting talk, which for the -convenience of the foreign members of their number, was conducted in -French. - -Marjorie Poole, who had not looked at Sir William at all during the -whole of the afternoon, was very pale and quiet. - -Gouldesbrough had noticed this, and even in the moment of supreme -triumph his heart was heavy within him. He feared that something -irrevocable had come between him and the girl he loved, and her pallor -only intensified his longing to be done with the whole thing, to be -alone with her and to have the explanation which he desired so keenly -and yet dreaded so acutely. For what Lord Malvin had said to him had -stabbed him with a deadly fear, as each solemn, significant word rang -through the room. - -"Could it be," he asked himself, "could it possibly be that these people -suspected or knew anything?" - -His quick brain answered the question in its own swift and logical -fashion. It was utterly impossible that Lord Malvin _could_ know -anything. His words were a coincidence and that was all. No, he need not -fear, and possibly, he thought, the long strain of work and worry had -had its influence upon his nerves and he had become morbid and unstrung. -That fear passed, but there was still in his heart the fear, and -strangely enough an even greater fear, that he would never now make -Marjorie his own. - -His outward face and demeanour showed nothing of the storm and riot -within. He was calm, self-possessed, and smiling, quick to answer and to -reply, to explain this or that point in his discoveries, to be adequate, -confident and serene. - -In reply to a question from Dean Weare, Sir William leant upon one of -the cases which covered the thought-transforming mechanism and gave a -little lecture. - -"Quite so, Mr. Dean," he said; "it is exactly as you suppose, the form, -power, and vividness of the pictures upon the screen correspond exactly -with the strength of the intellect of the person whose thoughts are -making these pictures. You will find your strongly imaginative man, or -your man whose brain is much turned inward upon himself, and who, for -this very reason takes little part in the action or movement of life, -will give a far more complete and vivid picture than any other. For -example, assuming that the Bishop's valet is an ordinary servant and -accompanied his Lordship to Palestine a few months ago, and saw exactly -what his Lordship saw, that man's memories would not be thrown upon the -screen with such wonderful vividness as his Lordship's were. He would -not be able, in all probability, to produce a picture, a general -impression, which is a real picture and not a photograph, and which so -conveys the exact likeness of a place far more than any photograph could -ever do. His thoughts would probably be represented by some special -incident which had struck his fancy at the time and assumed a proportion -in his mind which a cultured and logical faculty of thought would at -once reject as being out of due proportion. And finally, in a precise -ratio to the power of the brain--I do not mean to its health, or -ill-health, its weight or size, I mean its pure _thinking_ power--so -are the thoughts, when transformed into light, vivid or not vivid, as -the case may be." - -Mrs. Hoskin-Heath turned to Lord Landsend, who was sitting beside her. -Her pretty face wore a roguish smile as she whispered to him. - -"Billy, what an awful donkey _you_ must be." - -Lord Landsend looked at her for a moment. Then he answered-- - -"Well, you know, I am not at all sure that it is not a jolly good thing -to be sometimes. I would not be that fellow Gouldesbrough for anything." - -She looked at him in amusement. There was something quite serious in the -young man's face. - -"Why," she said, in a whisper, "what do you mean, Billy?" - -"I may not be clever," said Lord Landsend, "but I prefer to spend my -life doing what amuses me, not what other people think I ought to do. At -the same time I know men, and I know that scientific Johnny over there -has got something on his mind which I should not care to have. Poor -Tommy Decies had that look in his eyes the night before Ascot last year, -poor Eustace Charliewood had it just before he went down to Brighton and -shot himself; and you may take it from me, Mrs. Hoskin-Heath, that I -know what I am talking about." - -"And now," said Sir William, looking up and down the rows of faces -opposite him. "And now, which of you will submit himself to the next -experiment?" - -Then Lord Landsend spoke. He was determined to "get his own back," as he -would have put it, if possible. - -"Why don't you have a try yourself, Sir William," he said, with a not -very friendly grin; "or won't what d'you call 'em work for its master? -You had my thoughts for nothing, I'll give you twopence for yours." - -There was an ill-suppressed titter from the more frivolous portion of -the spectators; but Lord Malvin turned round and looked at the young man -with a frown of disapproval. There was something in that leonine head -and those calm wise eyes which compelled him to silence. - -Then Herr Schmoulder, a famous savant from Berlin, spoke. - -"It would an interesting demonstration make," he said, "of der statement -of der relative power that the strong and weak brain possesses if we -could see der apparatus in operation upon der thought vibrations -transformed of an intelligence which not equal to our own is." - -Mrs. Hoskin-Heath chimed in, her beautiful, silvery notes coming, after -the deep, grave, guttural, like a peal of bells heard in the lull of a -thunderstorm. - -"What a _good_ idea, Sir William!" she said. "I wish you would let me -send for my footman. He is sure to be in the servants' hall. It would be -so interesting to know his real opinion of me and my husband; and he -certainly is a most consummate fool, and would be a thoroughly good -subject for such an experiment. I brought him out of Gloucestershire. -You know, he was one of the under-footmen at my brother's place, and I -have been trying to train him, though with little success. I mean that -he is too stolid to be shy, and, therefore, won't object at all, as some -men would, to put the cap on and sit down here in the dark. He won't be -frightened, I am sure." - -"By all means, Mrs. Hoskin-Heath," Gouldesbrough said with a smile. "No -doubt one could not have a better subject, and I really shall be able to -illustrate the difference between the relative values of brain-power by -this means. You will all be able to notice the difference in the -vividness and outline of the pictures or words that will appear." - -Sir William turned round for Wilson Guest, whom he proposed to send upon -the mission, but could not find him. - -"I will ring for the butler," he said, "and tell him to fetch your man, -Mrs. Hoskin-Heath." - -"Oh! don't do that," a voice said upon the second tier. -"I--I--am--er--not feeling very well, Sir William, and I was going to -ask your permission to go and sit down in the hall for a few minutes; I -will tell one of your servants, they are sure to be about." - -The voice was the voice of Donald Megbie. He did not look at all ill, -but he stepped down with a smile and went out of the laboratory, while -everybody waited for the advent of Mrs. Hoskin-Heath's footman. - -Once more Sir William looked round to see if Wilson Guest had returned. - -The actual projecting apparatus by which the transformed light rays were -thrown upon the screen required some attention. The delicate apparatus -which focussed the lens of the projector, in order to bring it into the -nearest possible co-ordination with the light which it had to magnify -and transmit, needed some little care. - -"Will you excuse me for a moment," he said to everybody there, "if I -leave you in darkness again, until the man comes? I wish to attend to a -portion of the mechanism here, and I can only do so by turning off the -lights." - -There was a chorus of "Oh, please do so, Sir William," and suddenly the -laboratory was once more plunged into utter blackness. - -Nobody talked much now, curiously enough. For a moment there was nothing -heard but the regular beating of Lady Poole's fan, and one whispering -conversation which might, or might not, have been carried on between -Lord Landsend and Mrs. Hoskin-Heath. - -Then the thunder, which had been quiet for a little time, began to -mutter once more. The dark air became hot and full of oppression. And in -the dark Lord Malvin took the hand of Marjorie Poole in his own. "Be -brave," he said into her ear. "I know what you must suffer, believing -what you believe." - -She whispered back to him. - -"I have known it ever since I have been in this place," she said. "Oh! -Lord Malvin, I have known it quite certainly, _Guy is in this house_!" - -"Donald Megbie has gone out, as you saw just now," he answered. "Be -brave! be strong! I believe that God is guiding you. I too have felt the -psychic influence of something strange and very, very terrible in the -air of this house." - -In a moment more the beginning of the end came. The great twelve-foot -circle of light flashed out upon the screen, but now with an -extraordinary brightness and vividness, such as the spectators had not -seen before during the course of the experiments. For a space of, -perhaps, ten seconds, there was no sound at all. Nobody quite realized -that anything out of the ordinary was happening, except possibly the -scientists, who had a complete grasp of the mechanical methods of the -experiments and realized that in this room, at any rate, no one was -wearing the cap. - -There was a loud cry of astonishment, and, so it seemed, of alarm. - -Sharply outlined against the brilliant circle, sharply outlined in a -gigantic shape, and standing full in the screen of the light that -streamed from the lens of the projector, the spectators saw that Sir -William Gouldesbrough was standing. They caught a glimpse of his face. -It was a face like the face of a dead man. His arms were whirling in the -air like mills, and then as a cry died away in mournful echoes in the -high roof of the laboratory, there was a dead sound as the figure of the -scientist disappeared and fell out of the circle of light upon the -floor. - -Upon the screen itself there came a picture. It was the picture of a -girl, but of a girl with a face so sweetly tender and compassionate, so -irradiated with utter confidence and trust, so pained and yet so tender, -that no painter had ever put so wonderful a thing on canvas, and no -Madonna in the galleries of the world was more beautiful or more kind. - -And the face was one that they all knew well and recognized in a moment. -It was the face of one of them, the face of Marjorie Poole, and it was -so beautiful because it was painted by an artist whose pictures have -never before appealed so poignantly to human eyes--it was painted by -despairing Love itself. - -At that marvellous sight, a sight which none of those present ever -forgot in after life, a strange cry went up into the high-domed roof. It -was a cry uttered by many voices and in many keys. There was a gasp of -excitement and of fear, shrill women's tones, the guttural of the -Teuton, the bass of the startled Englishmen, the high, staccato cry of -the Latin, as the French savants joined in it. - -But in whatever key the exclamations were pitched, they all blended into -something like a wail, a composite, multiple thing, the wail of a -company of people who had seen something behind the Veil for the first -time in their lives. - -The picture glowed and looked out at them in all its ineffable -tenderness and glory, and then grew dim, trembled, dissolved, and melted -away. - -Then upon the screen came words, terrible, poignant words-- - - "MARJORIE, MARJORIE DEAR, I KNOW THAT YOU ARE NEAR ME, NOW IN BODY - AS YOU ARE ALWAYS NEAR ME IN THOUGHTS. I FEEL IT, I KNOW IT, AND - EVEN IN THIS CRUEL PRISON, THIS HOPELESS PRISON, WHERE I AM DYING, - AND SHALL SHORTLY DIE, I KNOW THAT YOU ARE NEAR ME IN BODY, AND IN - THAT SPIRIT YOU ARE ALWAYS MINE AND I AM ALWAYS YOURS. LOVE, IF THE - THOUGHTS THAT THEY ARE ROBBING ME OF, IF THE THOUGHTS THAT FILL MY - MIND, AND WHICH THOSE TWO FIENDS ARE PROBABLY LOOKING AT AND - LAUGHING OVER, HAVE ANY POWER AT ALL, THEN I SEND THEM TO YOU WITH - MY LAST EFFORT, IN ONE LAST ATTEMPT TO REACH YOU AND TO SAY THAT I - LOVE YOU AND TO SAY GOOD-BYE." - -The circle of white light grew dimmer. Faint, eddying spirals of -something that seemed like smoke rose up and obscured the words. They -saw an ashen vapour of grey creep over the circle, as the shadow of the -moon creeps over the sun at an eclipse. Then the circle disappeared -finally, and they were left once more in the dark. - -In the dark, indeed, but not in silence. A tumult of agonized voices -filled the laboratory. And over them all a brave voice beat in upon the -sound with the strong and regular assurance of a great bell, a bell like -the mighty mass of metal which hangs in the ancient belfry of Bruges. - -Lord Malvin was calling to them to be calm and silent, was telling them -that he knew what all this meant and that they must be of courage and -good cheer. - -Then some one struck a match. It was Lord Landsend, his face very white -and serious. He held it up above his head and called to Lord Malvin. - -"Here you are, Sir," he said. "I will get down to you in a second. Then -we can find the switch to turn on the electric light." - -He stumbled down to where Lord Malvin sat,--showing the value of the -practical man and polo player in a crisis--and together the two peers, -the famous and honoured scientist and the wealthy young man whom the -world flattered and called _dilettante_ and a fool, went their way to -the switch-table in the guiding light of this small torch. - -Suddenly a blaze of light dispelled the darkness and showed a company of -ghosts looking at each other with weeping faces. - -It showed also the figure of a girl sunk upon its chair in a deadly -swoon. And it showed also the body of Sir William Gouldesbrough lying -upon the floor between the series of machines and the screen upon the -opposite wall. The dead face was so horrible that some one ran up -immediately and covered it with a handkerchief. - -This was Lord Landsend. - -The tumult was indescribable, but by sheer power of authority and wisdom -Lord Malvin calmed them all. His hand was raised as the hand of a -conductor holds the vehemence of a band in check. - -In a few short trenchant sentences he told them the history of the -strange occurrence which Donald Megbie and Mrs. Poole had brought to his -notice; and even as he told them, Sir Harold Oliver and Lady Poole were -bringing back the unconscious girl to life and realization. - -"The man is here," Lord Malvin said, "the man is here. Guy Rathbone lies -dying and prisoned in this accursed house. Sir Harold Oliver, I will ask -you to remain with these ladies while I will go forth and solve this -horrid mystery." - -He looked round with a weary, questioning eye, seeking who should be his -companion, and as he did so young Lord Landsend touched him on the arm -and smiled. - -"Come, my dear boy," the old man said with a melancholy smile of -kindness, "you are just the man I want; come with me." - -Then, before he left the laboratory, he spoke a few rapid words in -French to one or two of the foreign scientists. - -Upon that, these gentlemen went down among the strange and fantastic -apparatus upon the tables and lifted up That which but a few minutes ago -had held the soul and the personality of Sir William Gouldesbrough. They -carried the long, limp, terrible dead Thing to the other end of the -room, where there was a screen. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -TWO FINAL PICTURES - - -There are two things to record-- - -(1) - -His hair was quite grey, his face was old and lined. His body was -beginning to be ravaged by the devilish drugs with which it had been -inoculated. - -But he lay upon a couch in the study, and Marjorie bent over him kissing -him, calling to him and cooing inarticulate words of belief and of love. - -Lady Poole was there also, motionless and silent, while Lord Malvin and -the doctor, who had been hastily summoned from Baker Street, watched by -the head of the couch. - -The doctor looked at Lord Malvin and nodded his head. - -"He will be all right," he whispered. "Those devils have not killed him -yet. He will live and be as strong as ever." - -The tears were rolling down Lord Malvin's face and he could not speak, -but he nodded back to the doctor. - -And then they saw the face of Guy Rathbone, who lay there so broken and -destroyed, begin to change. The gashes, which supreme and long-continued -agony had cut into it, had not indeed passed away. The ashen visage -remained ashen still, but a new light came flickering into the tired -eyes, and in an indescribable way youth was returning. - -Youth was returning, youth! - -It came back, summoned out of the past by a supreme magic--the supreme -magic of love. - -The girl who loved him was kissing him, he was with her at last, and all -was well. - - * * * * * - -(2) - -"It is a grave thing and much considered to be," said Herr Schmoulder. - -It was late at night. - -They had taken Wilson Guest to the hospital, where the doctors were -holding him down, as he shrieked and laughed, and died in delirium -tremens. - -Lord Malvin, Sir Harold Oliver, and the other scientists were gathered -together in the laboratory, that recent theatre of such terrible events. - -"It is a very grave thing indeed, Herr Schmoulder," Lord Malvin -answered; "but I have not ventured to propose it without a consultation -in the highest quarters. Decies will be here at any moment, and then -upon his decision we shall act. He has been to see the King." - -The distinguished men waited there silent and uneasy. All round them -stood the marvellous instruments by which the late Sir William -Gouldesbrough had obtained a triumph unknown before in the history of -the world. - -The yellow radiance of the electric light poured down upon the gleaming -mahogany, brass, vulcanite and steel. - -On the opposite wall was the great white screen--just an ordinary -stretch of prepared canvas upon steel rollers, a dead, senseless thing, -and no more than that. Yet as the least imaginative of them there -chanced to turn his head and see that great white sheet, he shuddered to -think of the long agony it had pictured while the two monsters had sat -and taken their amusement from it, as a man takes a glass of wine. - -There was a rap upon the principal door of the laboratory. Lord Malvin -strode to it and opened it. The butler, a portly man on the morning of -this day, but now seeming to have shrunk into his clothes, and to have -lost much of his vitality, stood there. - -Beside him was a gentleman in evening dress, with a keen clean-shaven -face and grey hair which curled. - -The gentleman stepped quickly into the laboratory. It was the Home -Secretary. - -He shook Lord Malvin by the hand, and his face was very troubled. - -"You are quite right, my Lord," he said. "I may say that His Majesty is -at one with you and with me in this matter. His Majesty is much -disturbed." - -Then Lord Malvin turned round to the other gentlemen. - -"Come, my brethren," he said in a sad voice, "come and let us do what we -have to do. The Bishop of West London was wiser than any of us when he -said that God would never allow this thing to continue, and he was -right." - -Lord Malvin turned to the frightened servant. - -"Go into the kitchens," he said, "or send one of the other men, and -fetch a large hammer, such a hammer as you use for breaking up coal." - -In a minute or two the butler returned, and handed a formidable -implement with a wedge-shaped iron head on a long ash shank to Lord -Malvin. - -The Home Secretary stood by, and the great men of science clustered -round him, watching Lord Malvin's actions. - -The peer went to the silent, soulless machines, which had been the -medium through which such wonder and terror had passed, and raising the -hammer about his head, he destroyed each one severally, with a sort of -ritual, as some priest carries out the ritual of his Faith. - -This old man, whose name and personality stood so high, so supreme -indeed, in the modern world, was like some ancient prophet of the Lord, -who, fired with holy zeal, strode down the pagan avenues of the ancient -world and tore and beat the false idols from their pedestals in the -frenzy of one who kills and destroys that truth may enter and the world -be calm. - -It was done, over. The politician shook hands with Lord Malvin, and -resumed his dry, official manner, perhaps a little ashamed or frightened -at the emotion which he had exhibited. - -"Good-bye, Lord Malvin," he said. "This terrible business is now over. I -have to return to the palace to tell His Majesty that this--this -_devilish_ invention is destroyed. Good-night, good-night." - -Then a tall man with a pointed beard came into the laboratory, saluting -the Home Secretary as he was leaving, with several of the other -scientists who had witnessed the whole thing from first to last and now -felt that they must go home. - -The man with the beard was the man who had been sent from Scotland Yard. - -He walked up to Lord Malvin and saluted. - -"I think, my Lord," he said, "that everything requisite has now been -done. I have all the servants in my charge, and we have fifteen or -twenty men in the house, seeing that nothing is disturbed until official -inquiry is due." - -By this time nobody was left in the laboratory but the detective -inspector, Lord Malvin, and Herr Schmoulder. - -"Oh! and there is one other thing, my Lord, I have to ask you. Mr. -Donald Megbie, the writing gentleman is here, and begs that he may be -allowed to see you. Should I be right in admitting the gentleman?" - -"Certainly, certainly," Lord Malvin replied. "Bring him in at once, -please inspector." - -In less than a minute a plain-clothes policeman ushered Donald Megbie -into the laboratory. - -He went up to Lord Malvin, and his face was bright and happy. - -"It is all right, my Lord," he said, "Rathbone is recovering swiftly. -Miss Poole is with him, and the doctors say, that though they feared for -a short time that his reason would go, they are now quite satisfied that -he will recover. He is sleeping quietly in a private room at Marylebone -Hospital, and Marjorie Poole is sitting by his side holding his hand." - -Then Megbie looked at the wreck upon the floor. - -"Ah!" he said, "so you have destroyed this horrid thing?" - -"Yes," Lord Malvin answered; "I discussed it with Decies, and Decies -went to see the King. It was thought to be better and wiser for the -safety of the commonwealth--for the safety of the world indeed--that Sir -William Gouldesbrough's discovery should perish with Sir William -Gouldesbrough." - -"Ah!" Donald Megbie answered; "I felt sure that that was the best -course. It would have been too terrible, too subversive. The world must -go on as it has always gone on. I have thought, during the last few -hours, that Sir William Gouldesbrough was not himself at all. Is it not -possible that he himself might have died long ago, and that _something_ -was inhabiting his body, something which came out of the darkness behind -the Veil?" - -"That, Mr. Megbie," said Lord Malvin, "is the picturesque thought of the -literary man. Science does not allow the possibility of such sinister -interferences. And now, I am going home. You will realize, of course, -that your supreme services in this matter will be recognized, though I -fear that the recognition can never be acknowledged publicly." - -Donald Megbie bowed. - -"My Lord," he said, "they have been recognized already, because I have -seen how love has called back a soul into life. I have seen Marjorie -Poole sitting by the bedside of Guy Rathbone. And, do you know, Lord -Malvin," he continued in a less exalted tone, "I never wish to see -anything in my life here more utterly beautiful than that." - -"Come," said Lord Malvin, "it is very late; we are all tired and -unstrung." - -The two men, arm in arm, the young writer and the great man, moved -towards the door of the laboratory. - -The detective inspector stood watching the scene with quiet and -observant eyes. - -But Herr Schmoulder surveyed the wreckage of the Thought-Spectroscope, -and as he turned at length to follow Lord Malvin and Donald Megbie, he -heaved a deep Teutonic sigh. - -"It was der most wonderful triumph that ever der unknown forces occurred -has been," he muttered. - -Then the three men crossed the vast, sombre hall, now filled with -frightened servants and the stiff official guardians of the law, and -went out through the path among the laurel bushes to the gate in the -wall, where their carriages were waiting. - -And Donald Megbie, as he drove home through the silent streets of the -West End, heard a tune in his heart, which responded and lilted to the -regular beat of the horse's feet upon the macadam. And the burden of the -tune was "_Love_." - - -_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London and Bungay._ - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Soul Stealer, by -Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL STEALER *** - -***** This file should be named 40520.txt or 40520.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/5/2/40520/ - -Produced by Mark C. Orton, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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