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+Project Gutenberg's The Blind Spot, by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
+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 Blind Spot
+
+Author: Austin Hall
+        Homer Eon Flint
+
+Commentator: Forrest J Ackerman
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4920]
+[This file was first posted on March 27, 2002]
+Last Updated: March 15, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLIND SPOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND SPOT
+
+By Austin Hall And Homer Eon Flint
+
+Introduction By Forrest J Ackerman
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE LURE AND LORE OF “THE BLIND SPOT”
+
+BY FORREST J ACKERMAN
+
+The Blind Spot opens with the words: “Perhaps it were just as well to
+start at the beginning. A mere matter of news.” Suppose I use them in
+the same sense:
+
+A mere matter of news: The first instalment of this fabulous novel was
+featured in Argosy-All-Story-Weekly for May 14, 1921. Described as a
+“different” serial, it was introduced by a cover by Modest Stein. In
+the foreground was the profile of a girl of another dimension--ethereal,
+sensuous, the eternal feminine--the Nervina of the story. Filmy
+crystalline earrings swept back over her bare shoulders. Dominating the
+background was a huge flaming yellow ball, like our Sun as seen from the
+hypothetical Vulcan--splotched with murky, mysterious globii vitonae.
+There was an ancient quay, and emerging from the ultramarine waters
+about it a silhouetted metropolis of spires, domes, and minarets. It was
+1921, and that generation thus received its first glimpse of the alien
+landscape of The Blind Spot and the baroque beauty of an immortal woman
+of fantasy fiction.
+
+The authors? Homer Eon Flint was already a reigning favourite with
+post-World-War-I enthusiasts of imaginative literature, who had eagerly
+devoured his QUEEN OF LIFE and LORD OF DEATH, his KING OF CONSERVE
+ISLAND and THE PLANETEER. Austin Hall was well known and popular for his
+ALMOST IMMORTAL, REBEL SOUL, and INTO THE INFINITE.
+
+Then came this epoch-making collaboration. When Mary Gnaedinger launched
+Famous Fantastic Mysteries magazine she early presented THE BLIND SPOT,
+and printed it again in that magazine's companion Fantastic Novels.
+These reprints are now collectors' items, almost unobtainable,
+and otherwise the story has long been out of print. Rumour says an
+unauthorised German version of THE BLIND SPOT, has been published in
+book form. There is another book called THE BLIND SPOT, and also a
+magazine story, and a major movie studio was to produce a film of the
+same title. However, here is presented the only hard-cover version of
+the only BLIND SPOT of consequence to lovers of fantasy.
+
+Who wrote the story? When I first looked into the question, as a 15 year
+old boy, Homer Eon Flint (he originally spelled his name with a “d”)
+was already dead of a fall into a canyon. In 1949 his widow told me: “I
+think Homer's father contributed that middle name”--the same name (with
+slightly different spelling) that the Irish poet George Russell took
+as his pen-name, which became known by its abbreviation AE. Mrs. Flindt
+said of Flint's father: “He was a very deep thinker, and enjoyed reading
+heavy material.” Like father, like son. “Homer always talked over his
+ideas with me, and although I couldn't always follow his thoughts it
+seemed to help him to express them to another--it made some things come
+more clearly to him.”
+
+Flint was a great admirer of H. G. Wells (this little
+grandmother-schoolteacher told me) and had probably read all his works
+up to the time when he (Flint) died in 1924. He had read Doyle and
+Haggard, but: “Wells was his favourite--the real thinker.”
+
+Flint found a fellow-thinker in Austin Hall, whom he met in San
+Jose, California, while working at a shop where shoes were repaired
+electrically--“a rather new concept at the time.” Hall, learning that
+Flint lived in the same city, sought him out, and they became fast
+friends. Each stimulated the other. As Hall told me twenty years ago of
+the origin of THE BLIND SPOT:
+
+“One day after we had lunched together, I held my finger up in front of
+one of my eyes and said: 'Homer, couldn't a story be written about that
+blind spot in the eye?' Not much was said about it at the time, but four
+days later, again at lunch, I outlined the whole story to him. I wrote
+the first eighteen chapters; Homer took up the tale as 'Hobart Fenton'
+and wrote the chapters about the house of miracles, the living death,
+the rousing of Aradna's mind, and so forth, up to 'The Man from Space,'
+where once again I took over.”
+
+To THE BLIND SPOT Hall contributed a great knowledge of history and
+anthropology, while Flint's fortes were physics and medicine. Both had a
+great fund of philosophy at their command.
+
+When I met Hall (about four years older than Flint) he was in his
+fifties: a devil-may-care old codger (old to a fifteen-year-old, that
+is) full of good humour and indulgence for a youthful admirer who had
+journeyed far to meet him. He casually referred to his 600 published
+stories, and I carried away the impression of one who resembled both
+in output and in looks that other fiction-factory of the time, Edgar
+Wallace.
+
+Finally: Several years ago, before I knew anything about the present
+volume, I had an unusual experience. (At that time I had no reason to
+think THE BLIND SPOT would ever become available as a book, for the
+location of the heirs proved a Herculean task by itself; publishers had
+long wanted to present this amazing novel but could not do so until I
+located Mrs. Mae Hall and Mrs. Mabel Flindt.) While, unfortunately, I
+did not take careful notes at the time, the gist of the occurrence was
+this:
+
+I visited a friend whose hobby (besides reading fantasy) was the
+occult, who volunteered to entertain me with automatic writing and
+the ouija-board. Now, I share Lovecraft's scepticism towards the
+supernatural, regarding it as at best a means of amusement. When the
+question arose of what spirits we should try to lure to our planchette,
+the names of Lovecraft, Merritt, Hall, and Flint popped into my
+pixilated mind. So I set my fingers on the wooden heart and, since my
+host was also a Flint admirer, we asked about Flint's fatal accident.
+The ouija spelled out:
+
+N-O A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T--R-O-B-B-E-R-Y
+
+There followed something about being held up by a hitch-hiker. Then Hall
+(or at least some energy-source other than my own conscious mind) came
+through too, and when I asked if he had left any work behind he replied:
+
+Y-E-S--T-H-E L-A-S-T G-O-D-L-I-N-G
+
+Later I asked his son about this (without revealing the title) and Javen
+Hall told me of the story his father had been plotting when he died: THE
+HIDDEN EMPIRE, or THE CHILD OF THE SOUTHWIND. Whatever was pushing the
+planchette failed to inform me that when I found Austin Hall's son and
+widow, they would put into my hands an unknown, unpublished fantasy
+novel by Hall: THE HOUSE OF DAWN! Some day it may appear in print.
+
+Meanwhile you are getting understandably impatient to explore that
+unknown realm of the Blind Spot. Be on your way, and bon voyage!
+
+FORREST J ACKERMAN, Beverley Hills, Calif.
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+Perhaps it were just as well to start at the beginning. A mere matter of
+news.
+
+All the world at the time knew the story; but for the benefit of those
+who have forgotten I shall repeat it. I am merely giving it as I have
+taken it from the papers with no elaboration and no opinion--a mere
+statement of facts. It was a celebrated case at the time and stirred the
+world to wonder. Indeed, it still is celebrated, though to the layman it
+is forgotten.
+
+It has been labelled and indexed and filed away in the archives of the
+profession. To those who wish to look it up it will be spoken of as one
+of the great unsolved mysteries of the century. A crime that leads two
+ways, one into murder--sordid, cold and calculating; and the other into
+the nebulous screen that thwarts us from the occult.
+
+Perhaps it is the character of Dr. Holcomb that gives the latter. He was
+a great man and a splendid thinker. That he should have been led into a
+maze of cheap necromancy is, on the face, improbable. He had a wonderful
+mind. For years he had been battering down the scepticism that had
+bulwarked itself in the material.
+
+He was a psychologist, and up to the day the greatest, perhaps, that we
+have known. He had a way of going out before his fellows--it is the way
+of genius--and he had gone far, indeed, before them. If we would trust
+Dr. Holcomb we have much to live for; our religion is not all hearsay
+and there is a great deal in science still unthought of. It is an
+unfortunate case; but there is much to be learned in the circumstance
+that led the great doctor into the Blind Spot.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+RHAMDA AVEC
+
+
+On a certain foggy morning in September, 1905, a tall man wearing a
+black overcoat and bearing in one hand a small satchel of dark-reddish
+leather descended from a Geary Street tram at the foot of Market Street,
+San Francisco. It was a damp morning; a mist was brooding over the city
+blurring all distinctness.
+
+The man glanced about him; a tall man of trim lines and distinctness
+and a quick, decided step and bearing. In the shuffle of descending
+passengers he was outstanding, with a certain inborn grace that without
+the blood will never come from training. Men noticed and women out of
+instinct cast curious furtive glances and then turned away; which was
+natural, inasmuch as the man was plainly old. But for all that many
+ventured a second glance--and wondered.
+
+An old man with the poise of twenty, a strange face of remarkable
+features, swarthy, of an Eastern cast, perhaps Indian; whatever the
+certainty of the man's age there was still a lingering suggestion
+of splendid youth. If one persisted in a third or fourth look this
+suggestion took an almost certain tone, the man's age dwindled, years
+dropped from him, and the quizzical smile that played on the lips seemed
+a foreboding of boyish laughter.
+
+We say foreboding because in this case it is not mistaken diction.
+Foreboding suggests coming evil; the laughter of boys is wholehearted.
+It was merely that things were not exactly as they should be; it was not
+natural that age should be so youthful. The fates were playing, and in
+this case for once in the world's history their play was crosswise.
+
+It is a remarkable case from the beginning and we are starting from
+facts. The man crossed to the window of the Key Route ferry and
+purchased a ticket for Berkeley, after which, with the throng, he passed
+the turnstile and on to the boat that was waiting. He took the lower
+deck, not from choice, apparently, but more because the majority of his
+fellow passengers, being men, were bound in this direction. The same
+chance brought him to the cigar-stand. The men about him purchased
+cigars and cigarettes, and as is the habit of all smokers, strolled off
+with delighted relish. The man watched them. Had anyone noticed his eyes
+he would have noted a peculiar colour and a light of surprise. With the
+prim step that made him so distinctive he advanced to the news-stand.
+
+“Pardon me; but I would like to purchase one of those.” Though he spoke
+perfect English it was in a strange manner, after the fashion of one
+who has found something that he has just learned how to use. At the
+same time he made a suggestion with his tapered fingers indicating the
+tobacco in the case. The clerk looked up.
+
+“A cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What will it be?”
+
+“A cigar?” Again the strange articulation. “Ah, yes, that is it. Now
+I remember. And it has a little sister, the cigarette. I think I shall
+take a cigarette, if--if--if you will show me how to use it.”
+
+It was a strange request. The clerk was accustomed to all manner of
+men and their brands of humour; he was about to answer in kind when he
+looked up and into the man's eyes. He started.
+
+“You mean,” he asked, “that you have never seen a cigar or cigarette;
+that you do not know how to use them? A man as old as you are.”
+
+The stranger laughed. It was rather resentful, but for all that of a
+hearty taint of humour.
+
+“So old? Would you say that I am as old as that; if you will look
+again--”
+
+The young man did and what he beheld is something that he could not
+quite account for: the strange conviction of this remarkable man; of age
+melting into youth, of an uncertain freshness, the smile, not of sixty,
+but of twenty. The young man was not one to argue, whatever his wonder;
+he was first of all a lad of business; he could merely acquiesce.
+
+“The first time! This is the first time you have ever seen a cigar or
+cigarette?”
+
+The stranger nodded.
+
+“The first time. I have never beheld one of them before this morning. If
+you will allow me?” He indicated a package. “I think I shall take one of
+these.”
+
+The clerk took up the package, opened the end, and shook out a single
+cigarette. The man lit it and, as the smoke poured out of his mouth,
+held the cigarette tentatively in his fingers.
+
+“Like it?” It was the clerk who asked.
+
+The other did not answer, his whole face was the expression of having
+just discovered one of the senses. He was a splendid man and, if the
+word may be employed of the sterner sex, one of beauty. His features
+were even; that is to be noted, his nose chiselled straight and to
+perfection, the eyes of a peculiar sombreness and lustre almost burning,
+of a black of such intensity as to verge into red and to be devoid of
+pupils, and yet, for all of that, of a glow and softness. After a moment
+he turned to the clerk.
+
+“You are young, my lad.”
+
+“Twenty-one, sir.”
+
+“You are fortunate. You live in a wonderful age. It is as wonderful as
+your tobacco. And you still have many great things before you.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+The man walked on to the forward part of the boat; leaving the youth,
+who had been in a sort of daze, watching. But it was not for long. The
+whole thing had been strange and to the lad almost inexplicable. The man
+was not insane, he was certain; and he was just as sure that he had not
+been joking. From the start he had been taken by the man's refinement,
+intellect and education. He was positive that he had been sincere. Yet--
+
+The ferry detective happened at that moment to be passing. The clerk
+made an indication with his thumb.
+
+“That man yonder,” he spoke, “the one in black. Watch him.” Then he told
+his story. The detective laughed and walked forward.
+
+It was a most fortunate incident. It was a strange case. That mere act
+of the cigar clerk placed the police on the track and gave to the world
+the only clue that it holds of the Blind Spot.
+
+The detective had laughed at the lad's recital--almost any one had a
+patent for being queer--and if this gentleman had a whim for a certain
+brand of humour that was his business. Nevertheless, he would stroll
+forward.
+
+The man was not hard to distinguish; he was standing on the forward deck
+facing the wind and peering through the mist at the grey, heavy heave of
+the water. Alongside of them the dim shadow of a sister ferry screamed
+its way through the fogbank. That he was a landsman was evidenced by his
+way of standing; he was uncertain; at every heave of the boat he would
+shift sidewise. An unusually heavy roll caught him slightly off-balance
+and jostled him against the detective. The latter held up his hand and
+caught him by the arm.
+
+“A bad morning,” spoke the officer. “B-r-r-r! Did you notice the Yerbe
+Buena yonder? She just grazed us. A bad morning.”
+
+The stranger turned. As the detective caught the splendid face, the
+glowing eyes and the youthful smile, he started much as had done the
+cigar clerk. The same effect of the age melting into youth and--the
+officer being much more accustomed to reading men--a queer sense of
+latent and potent vision. The eyes were soft and receptive but for
+all that of the delicate strength and colour that comes from abnormal
+intellect. He noted the pupils, black, glowing, of great size, almost
+filling the iris and the whole melting into intensity that verged into
+red. Either the man had been long without sleep or he was one of unusual
+intelligence and vitality.
+
+“A nasty morning,” repeated the officer.
+
+“Ah! Er, yes--did you say it was a nasty morning? Indeed, I do not know,
+sir. However, it is very interesting.”
+
+“Stranger in San Francisco?”
+
+“Well, yes. At least, I have never seen it.”
+
+“H-m!” The detective was a bit nonplussed by the man's evident evasion.
+“Well, if you are a stranger I suppose it is up to me to come to
+the defence of my city. This is one of Frisco's fogs. We have them
+occasionally. Sometimes they last for days. This one is a low one.
+It will lift presently. Then you will see the sun. Have you ever seen
+Frisco's sun?”
+
+“My dear sir”--this same slow articulation--“I have never seen your sun
+nor any other.”
+
+“Hum!”
+
+It was an answer altogether unexpected. Again the officer found himself
+gazing into the strange, refined face and wonderful eyes. The man was
+not blind, of that he was certain. Neither was his voice harsh or testy.
+Rather was it soft and polite, of one merely stating a fact. Yet how
+could it be? He remembered the cigar clerk. Neither cigar nor sun! From
+what manner of land could the man come? A detective has a certain
+gift of intuition. Though on the face of it, outside of the man's
+personality, there could be nothing to it but a joke, he chose to act
+upon the impulse. He pulled back the door which had been closed behind
+them and re-entered the boat. When he returned the boat had arrived at
+the pier.
+
+“You are going to Oakland?”
+
+It was a chance question.
+
+“No, to Berkeley. I take a train here, I understand. Do all the trains
+go to Berkeley?”
+
+“By no means. I am going to Berkeley myself. We can ride together. My
+name is Jerome. Albert Jerome.”
+
+“Thanks. Mine is Avec. Rhamda Avec. I am much obliged. Your company may
+be instructive.”
+
+He did not say more, but watched with unrestrained interest their
+manoeuvre into the slip. A moment later they were marching with the
+others down the gangways to the trains waiting. Just as they were seated
+and the electric train was pulling out of the pier the sun breaking
+through the mist blazed with splendid light through the cloud rifts. The
+stranger was next to the window where he could look out over the water
+and beyond at the citied shoreline, whose sea of housetops extended and
+rose to the peaks of the first foothills. The sun was just coming over
+the mountains.
+
+The detective watched. There was sincerity in the man's actions. It was
+not acting. When the light first broke he turned his eyes full into the
+radiance. It was the act of a child and, so it struck the officer, of
+the same trust and simplicity--and likewise the same effect. He drew
+away quickly: for the moment blinded.
+
+“Ah!” he said. “It is so. This is the sun. Your sun is wonderful!”
+
+“Indeed it is,” returned the other. “But rather common. We see it every
+day. It's the whole works, but we get used to it. For myself I cannot
+see anything strange in the 'sun's still shining.' You have been blind,
+Mr. Avec? Pardon the question. But I must naturally infer. You say you
+have never seen the sun. I suppose--”
+
+He stopped because of the other's smile; somehow it seemed a very
+superior one, as if predicting a wealth of wisdom.
+
+“My dear Mr. Jerome,” he spoke, “I have never been blind in my life. I
+say it is wonderful! It is glorious and past describing. So is it all,
+your water, your boats, your ocean. But I see there is one thing even
+stranger still. It is yourselves. With all your greatness you are only
+part of your surroundings. Do you know what is your sun?”
+
+“Search me,” returned the officer. “I'm no astronomer. I understand they
+don't know themselves. Fire, I suppose, and a hell of a hot one! But
+there is one thing that I can tell.”
+
+“And this--”
+
+“Is the truth.”
+
+If he meant it for insinuation it was ineffective. The other smiled
+kindly. In the fine effect of the delicate features, and most of all
+in the eyes was sincerity. In that face was the mark of genius--he felt
+it--and of a potent superior intelligence. Most of all did he note the
+beauty and the soft, silky superlustre of the eyes.
+
+We have the whole thing from Jerome, at least this part of it; and our
+interest being retrospect is multiplied far above that of the detective.
+The stranger had a certain call of character and of appearance, not
+to say magnetism. The officer felt himself almost believing and
+yet restraining himself into caution of unbelief. It was a remark
+preposterous on the face of it. What puzzled Jerome was the purpose;
+he could think of nothing that would necessitate such statements and
+acting. He was certain that the man was sane.
+
+In the light of what came after great stress has been laid by a certain
+class upon this incident. We may say that we lean neither way. We have
+merely given it in some detail because of that importance. We have
+yet no proof of the mystic and until it is proved, we must lean, like
+Jerome, upon the cold material. We have the mystery, but, even at that,
+we have not the certainty of murder.
+
+Understand, it was intuition that led Jerome into that memorable trip to
+Berkeley; he happened to be going off duty and was drawn to the man by
+a chance incident and the fact of his personality. At this minute,
+however, he thought no more of him than as an eccentric, as some
+refined, strange wonderful gentleman with a whim for his own brand of
+humour. Only that could explain it. The man had an evident curiosity
+for everything about him, the buildings, the street, the cars, and the
+people. Frequently he would mutter: “Wonderful, wonderful, and all the
+time we have never known it. Wonderful!”
+
+As they drew into Lorin the officer ventured a question.
+
+“You have friends in Berkeley? I see you are a stranger. If I may
+presume, perhaps I may be of assistance?”
+
+“Well, yes, if--if--do you know of a Dr. Holcomb?”
+
+“You mean the professor. He lives on Dwight Way. At this time of the
+day you would be more apt to find him at the university. Is he expecting
+you?”
+
+It was a blunt question and of course none of his business. Yet,
+just what another does not want him to know is ever the pursuit of a
+detective. At the same time the subconscious flashing and wondering at
+the name Rhamda Avec--surely neither Teutonic nor Sanskrit nor anything
+between.
+
+“Expecting me? Ah, yes. Pardon me if I speak slowly. I am not quite used
+to speech--yet. I see you are interested. After I see Dr. Holcomb I may
+tell you. However, it is very urgent that I see the doctor. He--well, I
+may say that we have known each other a long time.”
+
+“Then you know him?”
+
+“Yes, in a way; though we have never met. He must be a great man. We
+have much in common, your doctor and I; and we have a great deal to
+give to your world. However, I would not recognise him should I see him.
+Would you by any chance--”
+
+“You mean would I be your guide? With pleasure. It just happens that I
+am on friendly terms with your friend Dr. Holcomb.”
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+And now to start in on another angle. There is hardly any necessity for
+introducing Dr. Holcomb. All of us, at least, those who read, and, most
+of all, those of us who are interested in any manner of speculation,
+knew him quite well. He was the professor of philosophy at the
+University of California: a great man and a good one, one of those fine
+academic souls who, not only by their wisdom, but by their character,
+have a way of stamping themselves upon generations; a speaker of the
+upstanding class, walking on his own feet and utterly fearless when it
+came to dashing out on some startling philosophy that had not been borne
+up by his forebears.
+
+He was original. He believed that the philosophies of the ages are but
+stepping stones, that the wisdom of the earth looked but to the future,
+and that the study of the classics, however essential, is but the ground
+work for combining and working out the problems of the future. He was
+epigrammatic, terse, and gifted with a quaint humour, with which he
+was apt, even when in the driest philosophy, to drive in and clinch his
+argument.
+
+Best of all, he was able to clothe the most abstract thoughts in
+language so simple and concrete that he brought the deepest of all
+subjects down to the scope of the commonest thinker. It is needless
+to say that he was 'copy.' The papers about the bay were ever and anon
+running some startling story of the professor.
+
+Had they stuck to the text it would all have been well; but a reporter
+is a reporter; in spite of the editors there were numerous little
+elaborations to pervert the context. A great man must be careful of his
+speech. Dr. Holcomb was often busy refuting; he could not understand the
+need of these little twistings of wisdom. It kept him in controversy;
+the brothers of his profession often took him to task for these little
+distorted scraps of philosophy. He did not like journalism. He had a way
+of consigning all writers and editors to the devil.
+
+Which was vastly amusing to the reporters. Once they had him going they
+poised their pens in glee and began splashing their venomous ink. It was
+tragic; the great professor standing at bay to his tormentors. One and
+all they loved him and one and all they took delight in his torture. It
+was a hard task for a reporter to get in at a lecture; and yet it was
+often the lot of the professor to find himself and his words featured in
+his breakfast paper.
+
+On the very day before this the doctor had come out with one of his
+terse startling statements. He had a way of inserting parenthetically
+some of his scraps of wisdom. It was in an Ethics class. We quote his
+words as near as possible:
+
+“Man, let me tell you, is egotistic. All our philosophy is based on ego.
+We live threescore years and we balance it with all eternity. We are it.
+Did you ever stop and think of eternity? It is a rather long time.
+What right have we to say that life, which we assume to be everlasting,
+immediately becomes restrospect once it passes out of the conscious
+individuality which is allotted upon this earth? The trouble is
+ourselves. We are five-sensed. We weigh everything! We so measure
+eternity. Until we step out into other senses, which undoubtedly exist,
+we shall never arrive at the conception of infinity. Now I am going to
+make a rather startling announcement.
+
+“The past few years have promised a culmination which has been guessed
+at and yearned for since the beginning of time. It is within, and still
+without, the scope of metaphysics. Those of you who have attended my
+lectures have heard me call myself the material idealist. I am a
+mystic sensationalist. I believe that we can derive nothing from pure
+contemplation. There is mystery and wonder in the veil of the
+occult. The earth, our life, is merely a vestibule of the universe.
+Contemplation alone will hold us all as inapt and as impotent as the
+old Monks of Athos. We have mountains of literature behind us, all
+contemplative, and whatever its wisdom, it has given us not one thing
+outside the abstract. From Plato down to the present our philosophy
+has given us not one tangible proof, not one concrete fact which we can
+place our hands on. We are virtually where we were originally; and we
+can talk, talk, talk from now until the clap of doomsday.
+
+“What then?
+
+“My friends, philosophy must take a step sidewise. In this modern age
+young science, practical science, has grown up and far surpassed us. We
+must go back to the beginning, forget our subjective musings and enter
+the concrete. We are five-sensed, and in the nature of things we must
+bring the proof down into the concrete where we can understand it. Can
+we pierce the nebulous screen that shuts us out of the occult? We have
+doubted, laughed at ourselves and been laughed at; but the fact remains
+that always we have persisted in the believing.
+
+“I have said that we shall never, never understand infinity while within
+the limitations of our five senses. I repeat it. But that does not imply
+that we shall never solve some of the mystery of life. The occult is not
+only a supposition, but a fact. We have peopled it with terror, because,
+like our forebears before Columbus, we have peopled it with imagination.
+
+“And now to my statement.
+
+“I have called myself the Material Idealist. I have adopted an entirely
+new trend of philosophy. During the past years, unknown to you and
+unknown to my friends, I have allied myself with practical science. I
+desired something concrete. While my colleagues and others were pounding
+out tomes of wonderful sophistry I have been pounding away at the screen
+of the occult. This is a proud moment. I have succeeded. Tomorrow I
+shall bring to you the fact and the substance. I have lifted up the
+curtain and flooded it with the light of day. You shall have the fact
+for your senses. Tomorrow I shall explain it all. I shall deliver my
+greatest lecture; in which my whole Me has come to a focus. It is not
+spiritualism nor sophistry. It is concrete fact and common sense. The
+subject of my lecture tomorrow will be: 'The Blind Spot.'”
+
+Here begins the second part of the mystery.
+
+We know now that the great lecture was never delivered. Immediately the
+news was scattered out of the class-room. It became common property.
+It was spread over the country and was featured in all the great
+metropolitan dailies. In the lecture-room next morning seats were at a
+premium; students, professors, instructors and all the prominent people
+who could gain admission crowded into the hall; even the irrepressible
+reporters had stolen in to take down the greatest scoop of the century.
+The place was jammed until even standing room was unthought of. The
+crowd, dense and packed and physically uncomfortable, waited.
+
+The minutes dragged by. It was a long, long wait. But at last the bell
+rang that ticked the hour. Every one was expectant. And then fifteen
+minutes passed by, twenty--the crowd settled down to waiting. At length
+one of the colleagues stepped into the doctor's office and telephoned to
+his home. His daughter answered.
+
+“Father? Why he left over two hours ago.”
+
+“About what time?”
+
+“Why, it was about seven-thirty. You know he was to deliver his lecture
+today on the Blind Spot. I wanted to hear it, but he told me I could
+have it at home. He said he was to have a wonderful guest and I must
+make ready to receive him. Isn't father there?”
+
+“Not yet. Who was this guest? Did he say?”
+
+“Oh yes! In a way. A most wonderful man. And he gave him a wonderful
+name, Rhamda Avec. I remember because it is so funny. I asked father if
+he was Sanskrit; and he said he was much older than that. Just imagine!”
+
+“Did your father have his lecture with him?”
+
+“Oh, yes. He glanced over it at breakfast. He told me he was going to
+startle the world as it had never been since the day of Columbus.”
+
+“Indeed.”
+
+“Yes. And he was terribly impatient. He said he had to be at the college
+before eight to receive the great man. He was to deliver his lecture at
+ten. And afterward he would have lunch at noon and he would give me the
+whole story. I'm all impatience.”
+
+“Thank you.”
+
+Then he came back and made the announcement that there was a little
+delay; but that Dr. Holcomb would be there shortly. But he was not. At
+twelve o'clock there were still some people waiting. At one o'clock the
+last man had slipped out of the room--and wondered. In all the country
+there was but one person who knew. That one was an obscure man who had
+yielded to a detective's intuition and had fallen inadvertently upon one
+of the greatest mysteries of modern times.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+“NOW THERE ARE TWO”
+
+
+The rest of the story is unfortunately all too easily told. We go back
+to Jerome and his strange companion.
+
+At Centre Street station they alighted and walked up to the university.
+Under the Le Conte oaks they met the professor. He was trim and happy,
+his short, well-built figure clothed in black, his snow-white whiskers
+trimmed to the usual square crop and his pink skin glowing with splendid
+health. The fog had by this time lifted and the sun was just beginning
+to overcome the chilliness of the air. There was no necessity for an
+introduction.
+
+The two men apparently recognised each other at once. So we have it from
+the detective. There was sincerity in the delight of their hand-clasp. A
+strange pair, both of them with the distinction and poise that come
+from refinement and intellectual training; though in physique they were
+almost opposite, there was still a strange, almost mutual, bond between
+them. Dr. Holcomb was beaming.
+
+“At last!” he greeted. “At last! I was sure we could not fail. This, my
+dear Dr. Avec, is the greatest day since Columbus.”
+
+The other took the hand.
+
+“So this is the great Dr. Holcomb. Yes, indeed, it is a great day;
+though I know nothing about your Columbus. So far it has been simply
+wonderful. I can scarcely credit my senses. So near and yet so far. How
+can it be? A dream? Are you sure, Dr. Holcomb?”
+
+“My dear Rhamda, I am sure that I am the happiest man that ever lived.
+It is the culmination. I was certain we could not fail; though, of
+course, to me also it is an almost impossible climax of fact. I should
+never have succeeded without your assistance.”
+
+The other smiled.
+
+“That was of small account, my dear doctor. To yourself must go the
+credit; to me the pleasure. Take your sun, for instance, I--but I have
+not the language to tell you.”
+
+But the doctor had gone in to abstraction.
+
+“A great day,” he was beaming. “A great day! What will the world say? It
+is proved.” Then suddenly: “You have eaten?”
+
+“Not yet. You must allow me a bit of time. I thought of it; but I had
+not quite the courage to venture.”
+
+“Then we shall eat,” said the other man. “Afterward we shall go up to
+the lecture-room. Today I shall deliver my lecture on the Blind Spot.
+And when I am through you shall deliver the words that will astonish the
+world.”
+
+But here it seems there was a hitch. The other shook his head kindly.
+It was evident that while the doctor was the leader, the other was a
+co-worker who must be considered.
+
+“I am afraid, professor, that you have promised a bit too much. I am not
+entirely free yet, you know. Two hours is the most that I can give you;
+and not entirely that. There are some details that may not be neglected.
+It is a far venture and now that we have succeeded this far there is
+surely no reason why we cannot go on. However, it is necessary that I
+return to the house on Chatterton Place. I have but slightly over an
+hour left.”
+
+The doctor was plainly disappointed.
+
+“But the lecture?”
+
+“It means my life, professor, and the subsequent success of our
+experiment. A few details, a few minutes. Perhaps if we hurry we can get
+back in time.”
+
+The doctor glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes for the train, twenty
+minutes for the boat, ten minutes; that's an hour, two hours. These
+details? Have you any idea how long, Rhamda?”
+
+“Perhaps not more than fifteen minutes.”
+
+“We have still two hours. Fifteen minutes; perhaps a little bit late.
+Tell you what. I shall go with you. You can get on the boat.”
+
+We have said that the detective had intuition. He had it still. Yet
+he had no rational reason for suspecting either the professor or his
+strange companion. Furthermore he had never heard of the Blind Spot
+in any way whatsoever; nor did he know a single thing of philosophy
+or anything else in Holcomb's teaching. He knew the doctor as a man
+of eminent standing and respectability. It was hardly natural that he
+should suspect anything sinister to grow out of this meeting of two
+refined scholars. He attached no great importance to the trend of their
+conversation. It was strange, to be sure; but he felt, no doubt, that
+living in their own world they had a way and a language of their own. He
+was no scholar.
+
+Still, he could think. The man Rhamda had made an assertion that he
+could not quite uncover. It puzzled him. Something told him that for the
+safety of his old friend it might be well for him to shadow the strange
+pair to the city.
+
+When the next train pulled out for the pier the two scholars were
+seated in the forward part of the car. In the last seat was a man deeply
+immersed in a morning paper.
+
+It is rather unfortunate. In the natural delicacy of the situation
+Jerome could not crowd too closely. He had no certainty of trouble; no
+proof whatever; he was known to the professor. The best he could do was
+to keep aloof and follow their movements. At the ferry building they
+hailed a taxi and started up Market Street. Jerome watched them. In
+another moment he had another driver and was winding behind in their
+wheel tracks. The cab made straight for Chatterton Place. In front of a
+substantial two-story house it drew up. The two men alighted. Jerome's
+taxi passed them.
+
+They were then at the head of the steps; a woman of slender beauty
+with a wonderful loose fold of black hair was talking. It seemed to the
+detective that her voice was fearful, of a pregnant warning, that she
+was protesting. Nevertheless, the old men entered and the door slammed
+behind them. Jerome slipped from the taxi and spoke a few words to
+the driver. A moment later the two men were holding the house under
+surveillance.
+
+They did not have long to wait. The man called Rhamda had asked for
+fifteen minutes. At the stroke of the second the front door re-opened.
+Someone was laughing; a melodious enchanting laugh and feminine. A woman
+was speaking. And then there were two forms in the doorway. A man and
+a woman. The man was Rhamda Avec, tall, immaculate, black clad and
+distinguished. The woman, Jerome was not certain that she was the
+same who opened the door or not; she was even more beautiful. She
+was laughing. Like her companion she was clad in black, a beautiful
+shimmering material which sparkled in the sun like the rarest silk.
+The man glanced carelessly up and down the street for a moment. Then he
+assisted the lady down the steps and into the taxi. The door slammed;
+and before the detective could gather his scattered wits they were lost
+in the city.
+
+Jerome was expecting the professor. Naturally when the door opened he
+looked for the old gentleman and his companion. It was the doctor he was
+watching, not the other. Though he had no rational reason for expecting
+trouble he had still his hunch and his intuition. The man and woman
+aroused suspicion; and likewise upset his calculation. He could not
+follow them and stay with the professor. It was a moment for quick
+decision. He wondered. Where was Dr. Holcomb? This was the day he was to
+deliver his lecture on the Blind Spot. He had read the announcement in
+the paper on the way back, together with certain comments by the editor.
+In the lecture itself there was mystery. This strange one, Rhamda,
+was mixed in the Blind Spot. Undoubtedly he was the essential fact and
+substance. Until now he had not scented tragedy. Why had Rhamda and the
+woman come out together? Where was the professor?
+
+Where indeed?
+
+At the end of a half-hour Jerome ventured across the street. He noted
+the number 288. Then he ascended the steps and clanged at the knocker.
+From the sounds that came from inside, the place was but partly
+furnished. Hollow steps sounded down the hallway, shuffling, like weary
+bones dragging slippers. The door opened and an old woman, very old,
+peered out of the crack. She coughed. Though it was not a loud cough
+it seemed to the detective that it would be her last one; there was so
+little of her.
+
+“Pardon me, but is Dr. Holcomb here?”
+
+The old lady looked up at him. The eyes were of blank expressionless
+blue; she was in her dotage.
+
+“You mean--oh, yes, I think so, the old man with the white whiskers. He
+was here a few minutes ago, with that other. But he just went out, sir,
+he just went out.”
+
+“No, I don't think so. There was a man went out and a woman. But not Dr.
+Holcomb.”
+
+“A woman? There was no woman.”
+
+“Oh, yes, there was a woman--a very beautiful one.”
+
+The old lady dropped her hand. It was trembling.
+
+“Oh, dear,” she was saying. “This makes two. This morning it was a man
+and now it is a woman, that makes two.”
+
+It seemed to the man as he looked down in her eyes that he was looking
+into great fear; she was so slight and frail and helpless and so old;
+such a fragile thing to bear burden and trouble. Her voice was cracked
+and just above a shrill whisper, almost uncanny. She kept repeating:
+
+“Now there are two. Now there are two. That makes two. This morning
+there was one. Now there are two.”
+
+Jerome could not understand. He pitied the old lady.
+
+“Did you say that Dr. Holcomb is here?”
+
+Again she looked up: the same blank expression, she was evidently trying
+to gather her wits.
+
+“Two. A woman. Dr. Holcomb. Oh, yes, Dr. Holcomb. Won't you come in?”
+
+She opened the door.
+
+Jerome entered and took off his hat. Judicially he repeated the doctor's
+name to keep it in her mind. She closed the door carefully and touched
+his arm. It seemed to him that she was terribly weak and tottering; her
+old eyes, however expressionless, were full of pitiful pleading. She was
+scarcely more than a shadow.
+
+“You are his son?”
+
+Jerome lied; but he did it for a reason. “Yes.”
+
+“Then come.”
+
+She took him by the sleeve and led him to a room, then across it to a
+door in the side wall. Her step was slow and feeble; twice she stopped
+to sing the dirge of her wonder. “First a man and then a woman. Now
+there is one. You are his son.” And twice she stopped and listened. “Do
+you hear anything? A bell? I love to hear it: and then afterward I am
+afraid. Did you ever notice a bell? It always makes you think of church
+and the things that are holy. This is a beautiful bell--first--”
+
+Either the woman was without her reason or very nearly so: she was very
+frail.
+
+“Come, mother, I know, first a bell, but Dr. Holcomb?”
+
+The name brought her back again. For a moment she was blank trying to
+recall her senses. And then she remembered. She pointed to the door.
+
+“In there--Dr. Holcomb. That's where they come. That's where they
+go. Dr. Holcomb. The little old man with the beautiful whiskers. This
+morning it was a man; now it is a woman. Now there are two. Oh, dear;
+perhaps we shall hear the bell.”
+
+Jerome began to scent a tragedy. Certainly the old lady was uncanny; the
+house was bare and hollow; the scant furniture was threadbare with
+age and mildew; each sound was exaggerated and fearful, even their
+breathing. He placed his hand on the knob and opened the door.
+
+“Now there are two. Now there are two.”
+
+The room was empty. Not a bit of furniture; a blank, bare apartment with
+an old-fashioned high ceiling. Nothing else. Whatever the weirdness and
+adventure, Jerome was getting nowhere. The old lady was still clinging
+to his arm and still droning:
+
+“Now there are two. Now there are two. This morning a man; now a woman.
+Now there are two.”
+
+“Come, mother, come. This will not do. Perhaps--”
+
+But just then the old lady's lean fingers clinched into his arm; her
+eyes grew bright; her mouth opened and she stopped in the middle of her
+drone. Jerome grew rigid. And no wonder. From the middle of the room
+not ten feet away came the tone of a bell, a great silvery voluminous
+sound--and music. A church bell. Just one stroke, full toned, filling
+all the air till the whole room was choked with music. Then as suddenly
+it died out and faded into nothing. At the same time he felt the fingers
+on his arm relax; and a heap was at his feet. He reached over. The life
+and intelligence that was so near the line was just crossing over the
+border. The poor old lady! Here was a tragedy he could not understand.
+He stooped over to assist her. He was trembling. As he did so he heard
+the drone of her soul as it wafted to the shadow:
+
+“Now there are two.”
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+GONE
+
+
+Jerome was a strong man, of iron nerve, and well set against emotion;
+in the run of his experience he had been plumped into many startling
+situations; but none like this. The croon of the old lady thrummed in
+his ears with endless repetition. He picked her up tenderly and bore her
+to another room and placed her on a ragged sofa. There were still marks
+on her face of former beauty. He wondered who she was and what had been
+her life to come to such an ending.
+
+“Now there are two,” the words were withering with oppression.
+Subconsciously he felt the load that crushed her spirit. It was as if
+the burden had been shifted; he sensed the weight of an unaccountable
+disaster.
+
+The place was musty and ill-lighted. He looked about him, the dank,
+close air was unwashed by daylight. A stray ray of sunshine filtering
+through the broken shutter slanted across the room and sought vainly
+to dispel the shadow. He thought of Dr. Holcomb and the old lady.
+“Now there are two.” Was it a double tragedy? First of all he must
+investigate.
+
+The place was of eleven rooms, six downstairs and five on the upper
+story. With the exception of one broken chair there was no furniture
+upstairs; four of the rooms on the lower floor were partly furnished,
+two not at all. A rear room had evidently been to the old lady the
+whole of her habitation, serving as a kitchen, bedroom, and living-room
+combined. Except in this room there were no carpets what-ever. His steps
+sounded hollow and ghostly; the boards creaked and each time he opened
+a door he was oppressed by the same gloom of dankness and stagnation.
+There was no trace of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+He remembered the bell and sought vainly on both floors for anything
+that would give him a clue to the sound. There was nothing. The only
+thing he heard was the echoing of his own creaking footsteps and the
+unceasing tune that dinned in his spirit, “Now there are two.”
+
+At last he came to the door and looked out into the street. The sun
+was shining and the life and pulse was rising from the city. It was
+daylight; plain, healthy day. It was good to look at. On the threshold
+of the door he felt himself standing on the border of two worlds. What
+had become of the doctor and who was the old lady; and lastly and just
+as important, who was the Rhamda and his beautiful companion?
+
+Jerome telephoned to headquarters.
+
+It was a strange case.
+
+At the precise minute when his would-be auditors were beginning to
+fidget over his absence, the police of San Francisco had started the
+search for the great doctor. Jerome had followed his intuition. It had
+led him into a tragedy and he was ready to swear almost on his soul
+that it was twofold. The prominence of the professor, together with his
+startling announcement of the day previous and the world-wide comment
+that it had aroused, elevated the case to a national interest.
+
+What was the Blind Spot? The world conjectured, and like the world has
+been since beginning, it scoffed and derided. Some there were, however,
+men well up in the latest discoveries of science, who did not laugh.
+They counselled forbearance; they would wait for the doctor and his
+lecture.
+
+There was no lecture. In the teeth of our expectation came the startling
+word that the doctor had disappeared. Apparently when on the very verge
+of announcing his discovery he had been swallowed by the very force that
+he had loosened. There was nothing in known science outside of optics,
+that could in any way be blended with the Blind Spot. There were but two
+solutions; either the professor had been a victim of a clever rogue, or
+he had been overcome by the rashness of his own wisdom. At any rate, it
+was known from that minute on as “THE BLIND SPOT.”
+
+Perhaps it is just as well to take up the findings of the police. The
+police of course never entertained any suggestion of the occult. They
+are material; and were convinced from the start that the case had its
+origin in downright villainy. Man is complex; but being so, is oft
+overbalanced by evil Some genius had made a fool of the doctor.
+
+In the first place a thorough search was made for the professor. The
+house at No. 288 Chatterton Place was ransacked from cellar to attic.
+The records were gone over and it was found that the property had for
+some time been vacant; that the real ownership was vested in a number of
+heirs scattered about the country.
+
+The old lady had apparently been living on the place simply through
+sufferance. No one could find out who she was. A few tradesman in the
+vicinity had sold her some scant supplies and that was all. The stress
+that Jerome placed upon her actions and words was; given its due
+account. There were undoubtedly two villains; but there were two
+victims. That the old lady was such as well as the professor no one has
+doubted. The whole secret lay in the gentleman with the Eastern cast and
+complexion. Who was Rhamda Avec?
+
+And now comes the strangest part of the story. Ever, when we re-count
+the tale, there is something to overturn the theories of the police.
+It has become a sort of legend in San Francisco; one to be taken with
+a grain of salt, to be sure, but for all that, one at which we may well
+wonder. Here the supporters of the professor's philosophy hold their
+strongest point--if it is true. Of course we can venture no private
+opinion, never having been a witness. It is this:
+
+Rhamda Avec is with us and in our city. His description and drawn
+likeness have been published many times. There are those who aver that
+they have seen him in reality of the flesh walking through the crowds of
+Market Street.
+
+He is easily distinguished, tall and distinctive, refined to a high
+degree, and with the poise and alertness of a gentleman of reliance and
+character. Women look twice and wonder; he is neither old nor young;
+when he smiles it is like youth breaking in laughter. And with him often
+is his beautiful companion.
+
+Men vouch for her beauty and swear that it is of the kind that drives to
+distraction. She is fire and flesh and carnal--she is more than beauty.
+There is allurement about her body; sylph-like, sinuous; the olive
+tint of her complexion, the wonderful glory of her hair and the glowing
+night-black of her eyes. Men pause; she is of the superlative kind that
+robs the reason, a supreme glory of passion and life and beauty, at
+whose feet fools and wise men would slavishly frolic and folly. She
+seldom speaks, but those who have heard her say that it is like rippling
+water, of gentleness and softness and of the mellow flow that comes from
+love and passion and from beauty.
+
+Of course there is nothing out of the ordinary in their walking down the
+streets. Anybody might do that. The wonder comes in the manner in which
+they elude the police. They come and go in the broad, bright daylight.
+Hundreds have seen them. They make no effort at concealment, nor
+disguise. And yet no phantoms were ever more unreal than they to those
+who seek them. Who are they? The officers have been summoned on many
+occasions; but each and every time in some manner or way they had
+contrived to elude them. There are some who have consigned them to the
+limbo of illusion. But we do not entirely agree.
+
+In a case like this it is well to take into consideration the
+respectability and character of those who have witnessed. Phantoms are
+not corporeal; these two are flesh and blood. There is mystery about
+them; but they are substance, the same as we are.
+
+And lastly:
+
+If you will take the Key Route ferry some foggy morning you may see
+something to convince you. It must be foggy and the air must be grey and
+drab and sombre. Take the lower deck. Perhaps you will see nothing. If
+not try again; for they say you shall be rewarded. Watch the forward
+part of the boat; but do not leave the inner deck. The great Rhamda
+watching the grey swirl of the water!
+
+He stands alone, in his hands the case of reddish leather, his feet
+slightly apart and his face full of a great hungry wonder. Watch his
+features: they are strong and aglow with a great and wondrous wisdom;
+mark if you see evil. And remember. Though he is like you he is
+something vastly different. He is flesh and blood; but perhaps the
+master of one of the greatest laws that man can attain to. He is the
+fact and the substance that was promised, but was not delivered by the
+professor.
+
+This account has been largely taken from one of the Sunday editions of
+our papers. I do not agree with it entirely. Nevertheless, it will serve
+as an excellent foundation for my own adventures; and what is best of
+all, save labour.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+FRIENDS
+
+
+My name is Harry Wendel.
+
+I am an attorney and until recently boasted of a splendid practice and
+an excellent prospect for the future. I am still a young man; I have
+had a good education and still have friends and admirers. Such being the
+case, you no doubt wonder why I give a past reference to my practice and
+what the future might have held for me. Listen:
+
+I might as well start 'way back. I shall do it completely and go back to
+the fast-receding time of childhood.
+
+There is a recollection of childish disaster. I had been making
+strenuous efforts to pull the tail out of the cat that I might use
+it for a feather duster. My desire was supreme logic. I could not
+understand objection; the cat resisted for certain utilitarian reasons
+of its own and my mother through humane sympathy. I had been scratched
+and spanked in addition: it was the first storm centre that I remember.
+I had been punished but not subdued. At the first opportunity, I stole
+out of the house and onto the lawn that stretched out to the pavement.
+
+I remember the day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and
+everything was green with springtime. For a minute I stood still and
+blinked in the sunlight. It was beautiful and soft and balmy; the
+world at full exuberance; the buds upon the trees, the flowers, and the
+songbirds singing. I could not understand it. It was so beautiful and
+soft. My heart was still beating fiercely, still black with perversity
+and stricken rancour. The world had no right to be so. I hated with the
+full rush of childish anger.
+
+And then I saw.
+
+Across the street coming over to meet me was a child of my age. He was
+fat and chubby, a mass of yellow curls and laughter; when he walked he
+held his feet out at angles as is the manner of fat boys and his arms
+away from his body. I slid off the porch quietly. Here was something
+that could suffer for the cat and my mother. At my rush he stopped in
+wonder. I remember his smiling face and my anger. In an instant I had
+him by the hair and was biting with all the fury of vindictiveness.
+
+At first he set up a great bawl for assistance. He could not understand;
+he screamed and held his hands aloft to keep them out of my reach. Then
+he tried to run away. But I had learned from the cat that had scratched
+me. I clung on, biting, tearing. The shrill of his scream was music: it
+was conflict, sweet and delicious; it was strife, swift as instinct.
+
+At last I stopped him; he ceased trying to get away and began to
+struggle. It was better still; it was resistance. But he was stronger
+than I; though I was quicker he managed to get my by the shoulders,
+to force me back, and finally to upset me. Then in the stolid way, and
+after the manner of fat boys, he sat upon my chest. When our startled
+mothers came upon the scene they so found us--I upon my back, clinching
+my teeth and threatening all the dire fates of childhood, and he waiting
+either for assistance or until my ire should retire sufficiently to
+allow him to release me in safety.
+
+“Who did it? Who started it?”
+
+That I remember plainly.
+
+“Hobart, did you do this?” The fat boy backed off quietly and clung to
+his mother; but he did not answer.
+
+“Hobart, did you start this?”
+
+Still no answer.
+
+“Harry, this was you; you started it. Didn't you try to hurt Hobart?”
+
+I nodded.
+
+My mother took me by the hand and drew me away.
+
+“He is a rascal, Mrs. Fenton, and has a temper like sin; but he will
+tell the truth, thank goodness.”
+
+I am telling this not for the mere relation, but by way of introduction.
+It was my first meeting with Hobart Fenton. It is necessary that you
+know us both and our characters. Our lives are so entwined and so
+related that without it you could not get the gist of the story. In
+the afternoon I came across the street to play with Hobart. He met me
+smiling. It was not in his healthy little soul to hold resentment. I was
+either all smiles or anger. I forgot as quickly as I battled. That night
+there were two happy youngsters tucked into the bed and covers.
+
+So we grew up; one with the other. We played as children do and fought
+as boys have done from the beginning. I shall say right now that the
+fights were mostly my fault. I started them one and all; and if every
+battle had the same beginning it likewise had the same ending. The first
+fight was but the forerunner of all the others.
+
+Please do not think hardly of Hobart. He is the kindest soul in the
+world; there never was a truer lad nor a kinder heart. He was strong,
+healthy, fat, and, like fat boys, forever laughing. He followed me
+into trouble and when I was retreating he valiantly defended the rear.
+Stronger, sturdier, and slower, he has been a sort of protector from the
+beginning. I have called him the Rear Guard; and he does not resent it.
+
+I have always been in mischief, restless, and eager for anything that
+would bring quick action; and when I got into deep water Hobart would
+come along, pluck me out and pull me to shore and safety. Did you ever
+see a great mastiff and a fox terrier running together? It is a homely
+illustration; but an apt one.
+
+We were boys together, with our delights and troubles, joys and sorrows.
+I thought so much of Hobart that I did not shirk stooping to help him
+take care of his baby sister. That is about the supreme sacrifice of
+a boy's devotion. In after years, of course, he has laughed at me and
+swears I did it on purpose. I do not know, but I am willing to admit
+that I think a whole lot of that sister.
+
+Side by side we grew up and into manhood. We went to school and
+into college. Even as we were at odds in our physical builds and our
+dispositions, so were we in our studies. From the beginning Hobart has
+had a mania for screws, bolts, nuts, and pistons. He is practical; he
+likes mathematics; he can talk to you from the binomial theorem up
+into Calculus; he is never so happy as when the air is buzzing with
+a conversation charged with induction coils, alternating currents,
+or atomic energy. The whole swing and force of popular science is his
+kingdom. I will say for Hobart that he is just about in line to be king
+of it all. Today he is in South America, one of our greatest engineers.
+He is bringing the water down from the Andes; and it is just about like
+those strong shoulders and that good head to restore the land of the
+Incas.
+
+About myself? I went into the law. I enjoy an atmosphere of strife and
+contention. I liked books and discussion and I thought that I would like
+the law. On the advice of my elders I entered law college, and in due
+time was admitted to practice. It was while studying to qualify that
+I first ran into philosophy. I was a lad to enjoy quick, pithy,
+epigrammatic statements. I have always favoured a man who hits from the
+shoulder. Professor Holcomb was a man of terse, heavy thinking; he spoke
+what he thought and he did not quibble. He favoured no one.
+
+I must confess that the old white-haired professor left his stamp upon
+me. I loved him like all the rest; though I was not above playing a
+trick on the old fellow occasionally. Still he had a wit of his own and
+seldom came out second best, and when he lost out he could laugh like
+the next one. I was deeply impressed by him. As I took course after
+course under him I was convinced that for all of his dry philosophy the
+old fellow had a trick up his sleeve; he had a way of expounding that
+was rather startling; likewise, he had a scarcely concealed contempt for
+some of the demigods of our old philosophy.
+
+What this trick was I could never uncover. I hung on and dug into great
+tomes of wisdom. I became interested and gradually took up with his
+speculation; for all my love of action I found that I had a strong
+subcurrent for the philosophical.
+
+Now I roomed with Hobart. When I would come home with some dry tome and
+would lose myself in it by the hour he could not understand it. I was
+preparing for the law. He could see no advantage to be derived from this
+digging into speculation. He was practical and unless he could drive a
+nail into a thing or at least dig into its chemical elements it was hard
+to get him interested.
+
+“Of what use is it, Harry? Why waste your brains? These old fogies have
+been pounding on the question for three thousand years. What have they
+got? You could read all their literature from the pyramids down to the
+present sky-scrapers and you wouldn't get enough practical wisdom to
+drive a dump-cart.”
+
+“That's just it,” I answered. “I'm not hankering for a dump-cart.
+You have an idea that all the wisdom in the world is locked up in the
+concrete; unless a thing has wheels, pistons, some sort of combustion,
+or a chemical action you are not interested. What gives you the control
+over your machinery? Brains! But what makes the mind go?”
+
+Hobart blinked. “Fine,” he answered. “Go on.”
+
+“Well,” I answered, “that's what I am after.”
+
+He laughed. “Great. Well, keep at it. It's your funeral, Harry. When you
+have found, it let me know and I'll beat you to the patent.”
+
+With that he turned to his desk and dug into one of his everlasting
+formulas. Just the same, next day when I entered Holcomb's lecture-room
+I was in for a surprise. My husky room-mate was in the seat beside me.
+
+“What's the big idea?” I asked. “Big idea is right, Harry,” he grinned.
+“Just thought I would beat you to it. Had a dickens of a time with
+Dan Clark, of the engineering department. Told him I wanted to study
+philosophy. The old boy put up a beautiful holler. Couldn't understand
+what an engineer would want with psychology or ethics. Neither could I
+until I got to thinking last night when I went to roost. Because a thing
+has never been done is no reason why it never will be; is it, Harry?”
+
+“Certainly not. I don't know just what you are driving at. Perhaps you
+intend to take your notes over to the machine shop and hammer out the
+Secret of the Absolute.”
+
+He grinned.
+
+“Pretty wise head at that, Harry. What did you call it? The Secret of
+the Absolute. Will remember that. I'm not much on phrases; but I'm sure
+the strong boy with the hammer. You don't object to my sitting here
+beside you; so that I, too, may drink in the little drops of wisdom?”
+
+It was in this way that Hobart entered into the study of philosophy.
+When the class was over and we were going down the steps he patted me on
+the shoulder.
+
+“That's not so bad, Harry. Not so bad. The old doctor is there; he's got
+them going. Likewise little Hobart has got a big idea.”
+
+Now it happened that this was just about six weeks before Dr. Holcomb
+announced his great lecture on the Blind Spot. It was not more than a
+week after registration. In the time ensuing Fenton became just as
+great an enthusiast as myself. His idea, of course, was chimerical and
+a blind; his main purpose was to get in with me where he could argue me
+out of my folly.
+
+He wound up by being a convert of the professor.
+
+Then came the great day. The night of the announcement we had a long
+discussion. It was a deep question. For all of my faith in the professor
+I was hardly prepared for a thing like this. Strange to say I was the
+sceptic; and stranger still, it was Hobart who took the side of the
+doctor.
+
+“Why not?” he said. “It merely comes down to this: you grant that a
+thing is possible and then you deny the possibility of a proof--outside
+of your abstract. That's good paradox, Harry; but almighty poor logic.
+If it is so it certainly can be proven. There's not one reason in the
+world why we can't have something concrete. The professor is right. I am
+with him. He's the only professor in all the ages.”
+
+Well, it turned out as it did. It was a terrible blow to us all. Most
+of the world took it as a great murder or an equally great case of
+abduction. There were but few, even in the university, who embraced the
+side of the doctor. It was a case of villainy, of a couple of remarkably
+clever rogues and a trusting scholar.
+
+But there was one whose faith was not diminished. He had been one of
+the last to come under the influence of the doctor. He was practical and
+concrete, and not at all attuned to philosophy; he had not the training
+for deep dry thinking. He would not recede one whit. One day I caught
+him sitting down with his head between his hands. I touched him on the
+shoulder.
+
+“What's the deep study?” I asked him.
+
+He looked up. By his eyes I could see that his thoughts had been far
+away.
+
+“What's the deep study?” I repeated.
+
+“I was just thinking, Harry; just thinking.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“I was just thinking, Harry, that I would like to have about one hundred
+thousand dollars and about ten years' leisure.”
+
+“That's a nice thought,” I answered; “I could think that myself. What
+would you do with it?”
+
+“Do? Why, there is just one thing that I would do if I had that much
+money. I would solve the Blind Spot.”
+
+This happened years ago while we were still in college. Many things have
+occurred since then. I am writing this on the verge of disaster. How
+little do we know! What was the idea that buzzed in the head of Hobart
+Fenton? He is concrete, physical, fearless. He is in South America. I
+have cabled to him and expect him as fast as steam can bring him. The
+great idea and discovery of the professor is a fact, not fiction. What
+is it? That I cannot answer. I have found it and I am a witness to its
+potency.
+
+Some law has been missed through the ages. It is inexorable and
+insidious; it is concrete. Out of the unknown comes terror. Through the
+love for the great professor I have pitted myself against it. From the
+beginning it has been almost hopeless. I remember that last digression
+in ethics. “The mystery of the occult may be solved. We are five-sensed.
+When we bring the thing down to the concrete we may understand.”
+
+Sometimes I wonder at the Rhamda. Is he a man or a phantom? Does he
+control the Blind Spot? Is he the substance and the proof that was
+promised by Dr. Holcomb? Through what process and what laws did the
+professor acquire even his partial control over the phenomena? Where
+did the Rhamda and his beautiful companion come from? Who are they? And
+lastly--what was the idea that buzzed in the head of Hobart Fenton?
+
+When I look back now I wonder. I have never believed in fate. I do not
+believe in it now. Man is the master of his own destiny. We are cowards
+else. Whatever is to be known we should know it. One's duty is ever to
+one's fellows. Heads up and onward. I am not a brave man, perhaps, under
+close analysis; but once I have given my word I shall keep it. I have
+done my bit; my simple duty. Perhaps I have failed. In holding myself
+against the Blind Spot I have done no more than would have been done by
+a million others. I have only one regret. Failure is seldom rewarded. I
+had hoped that my life would be the last; I have a dim hope still. If I
+fail in the end, there must be still one more to follow.
+
+Understand I do not expect to die. It is the unknown that I am afraid
+of. I who thought that we knew so much have found it still so little.
+There are so many laws in the weave of Cosmos that are still unguessed.
+What is this death that we are afraid of? What is life? Can we solve it?
+Is it permissible? What is the Blind Spot? If Hobart Fenton is right it
+has nothing to do with death. If so, what is it?
+
+My pen is weak. I am weary. I am waiting for Hobart. Perhaps I shall not
+last. When he comes I want him to know my story. What he knows already
+will not hurt repeating. It is well that man shall have it; it may be
+that we shall both fail-there is no telling; but if we do the world can
+profit by our blunders and guide itself--perhaps to the mastery of the
+phenomenon that controls the Blind Spot.
+
+I ask you to bear with me. If I make a few mistakes or I am a bit loose,
+remember the stress under which I am writing. I shall try to be plain so
+that all may follow.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CHICK WATSON
+
+
+Now to go back.
+
+In due time we were both of us graduated from college. I went into the
+law and Hobart into engineering. We were both successful. There was
+not a thing to foreshadow that either of us was to be jerked from his
+profession. There was no adventure, but lots of work and reward in
+proportion.
+
+Perhaps I was a bit more fortunate. I was in love and Hobart was still
+a confirmed bachelor. It was a subject over which he was never done
+joking. It was not my fault. I was innocent. If the blame ran anywhere
+it would have to be placed upon that baby sister of his.
+
+It happened as it happened since God first made the maiden. One autumn
+Hobart and I started off for college. We left Charlotte at the gate a
+girl of fifteen years and ten times as many angles. I pulled one of her
+pigtails, kissed her, and told her I wanted her to get pretty. When we
+came home next summer I went over to pull the other pigtail. I did not
+pull it. I was met by the fairest young woman I had ever looked on. And
+I could not kiss her. Seriously, was I to blame?
+
+Now to the incident.
+
+It was a night in September. Hobart had completed his affairs and had
+booked passage to South America. He was to sail next morning. We had
+dinner that day with his family, and then came up to San Francisco for
+a last and farewell bachelor night. We could take in the opera together,
+have supper at our favourite cafe, and then turn in. It was a long hark
+back to our childhood; but for all that we were still boys together.
+
+I remember that night. It was our favourite opera--“Faust.” It was the
+one piece that we could agree on. Looking back since, I have wondered at
+the coincidence. The old myth of age to youth and the subcurrent of sin
+with its stalking, laughing, subtle Mephistopheles. It is strange that
+we should have gone to this one opera on this one evening. I recall
+our coming out of the theatre; our minds thrilling to the music and the
+subtle weirdness of the theme.
+
+A fog had fallen--one of those thick, heavy, grey mists that sometimes
+come upon us in September. Into its sombre depths the crowd disappeared
+like shadows. The lights upon the streets blurred yellow. At the cold
+sheer contact we hesitated upon the pavement.
+
+I had on a light overcoat. Hobart, bound for the tropics, had no such
+protection. It was cold and miserable, a chill wind stirring from the
+north was unusually cutting. Hobart raised his collar and dug his hands
+into his pockets.
+
+“Brr,” he muttered; “brr, some coffee or some wine. Something.”
+
+The sidewalks were wet and slippery, the mists settling under the lights
+had the effect of drizzle. I touched Hobart's arm and we started across
+the street.
+
+“Brr is right,” I answered, “and some wine. Notice the shadows, like
+ghosts.”
+
+We were half across the street before he answered; then he stopped.
+
+“Ghosts! Did you say ghosts, Harry?” I noted a strange inflection in his
+voice. He stood still and peered into the fog bank. His stop was sudden
+and suggestive. Just then a passing taxicab almost caught us and we
+were compelled to dodge quickly. Hobart ducked out of the way and I
+side-stepped in another direction. We came up on the sidewalk. Again he
+peered into the shadow.
+
+“Confound that cab,” he was saying, “now we have gone and missed him.”
+
+He took off his hat and then put it back on his head. His favourite
+trick when bewildered. I looked up and down the street.
+
+“Didn't you see him? Harry! Didn't you see him? It was Rhamda Avec!”
+
+I had seen no one; that is to notice; I did not know the Rhamda. Neither
+did he.
+
+“The Rhamda? You don't know him.”
+
+Hobart was puzzled.
+
+“No,” he said; “I do not; but it was he, just as sure as I am a fat
+man.”
+
+I whistled. I recalled the tale that was now a legend. The man had an
+affinity for the fog mist. To come out of “Faust” and to run into the
+Rhamda! What was the connection? For a moment we both stood still and
+waited.
+
+“I wonder--” said Hobart. “I was just thinking about that fellow
+tonight. Strange! Well, let's get something hot--some coffee.”
+
+But it had given us something for discussion. Certainly it was unusual.
+During the past few days I had been thinking of Dr. Holcomb; and for the
+last few hours the tale had clung with reiterating persistence. Perhaps
+it was the weirdness and the tremulous intoxication of the music. I was
+one of the vast majority who disbelieved it. Was it possible that it
+was, after all, other than the film of fancy? There are times when we
+are receptive; at that moment I could have believed it.
+
+We entered the cafe and chose a table slightly to the rear. It was
+a contrast to the cold outside; the lights so bright, the glasses
+clinking, laughter and music. A few young people were dancing. I sat
+down; in a moment the lightness and jollity had stirred my blood. Hobart
+took a chair opposite. The place was full of beauty. In the back of my
+mind blurred the image of Rhamda. I had never seen him; but I had read
+the description. I wondered absently at the persistence.
+
+I have said that I do not believe in fate. I repeat it. Man should
+control his own destiny. A great man does. Perhaps that is it. I am not
+great. Certainly it was circumstance.
+
+In the back part of the room at one of the tables was a young man
+sitting alone. Something caught my attention. Perhaps it was his
+listlessness or the dreamy unconcern with which he watched the dancers;
+or it may have been the utter forlornness of his expression. I noted his
+unusual pallor and his cast of dissipation, also the continual working
+of his long, lean fingers. There are certain set fixtures in the night
+life of any city. But this was not one. He was not an habitue. There was
+a certain greatness to his loneliness and his isolation. I wondered.
+
+Just then he looked up. By a mere coincidence our eyes met. He smiled,
+a weak smile and a forlorn one, and it seemed to me rather pitiful. Then
+as suddenly his glance wandered to the door behind me. Perhaps there
+was something in my expression that caught Hobart's attention. He turned
+about.
+
+“Say, Harry, who is that fellow? I know that face, I'm certain.”
+
+“Come to think I have seen him myself. I wonder--”
+
+The young man looked up again. The same weary smile. He nodded. And
+again he glanced over my shoulder toward the door. His face suddenly
+hardened.
+
+“He knows us at any rate,” I ventured.
+
+Now Hobart was sitting with his face toward the entrance. He could see
+anyone coming or going. Following the young man's glance he looked over
+my shoulder. He suddenly reached over and took me by the forearm.
+
+“Don't look round,” he warned; “take it easy. As I said--on my honour as
+a fat man.”
+
+The very words foretold. I could not but risk a glance. Across the room
+a man was coming down the aisle--a tall man, dark, and of a very decided
+manner. I had read his description many times; I had seen his likeness
+drawn by certain sketch artists of the city. They did not do him
+justice. He had a wonderful way and presence--you might say, magnetism.
+I noticed the furtive wondering glances that were cast, especially by
+the women. He was a handsome man beyond denying, about the handsomest I
+had ever seen. The same elusiveness.
+
+At first I would have sworn him to be near sixty; the next minute I was
+just as certain of his youth. There was something about him that could
+not be put to paper, be it strength, force or vitality; he was subtle.
+His step was prim and distinctive, light as shadow, in one hand
+he carried the red case that was so often mentioned. I breathed an
+exclamation.
+
+Hobart nodded.
+
+“Am I a fat man? The famous Rhamda! What say! Ah, ha! He has business
+with our wan friend yonder. See!”
+
+And it was so. He took a chair opposite the wan one. The young man
+straightened. His face was even more familiar, but I could not place
+him. His lips were set; in their grim line--determination; whatever his
+exhaustion there was still a will. Somehow one had a respect for this
+weak one; he was not a mere weakling. Yet I was not so sure that he
+was not afraid of the Rhamda. He spoke to the waiter. The Rhamda began
+talking. I noted the poise in his manner; it was not evil, rather was it
+calm--and calculating. He made an indication. The young man drew back.
+He smiled; it was feeble and weary, but for all of that disdainful.
+Though one had a pity for his forlornness, there was still an
+admiration. The waiter brought glasses.
+
+The young man swallowed his drink at a gulp, the other picked his up and
+sipped it. Again he made the indication. The youth dropped his hand upon
+the table, a pale blue light followed the movement of his fingers. The
+older man pointed. So that was their contention? A jewel? After all our
+phantom was material enough to desire possession; his solicitude was
+calmness, but for all that aggression. I could sense a battle, but the
+young man turned the jewel to the palm side of his fingers; he shook his
+head.
+
+The Rhamda drew up. For a moment he waited. Was it for surrender? Once
+he started to speak, but was cut short by the other. For all of his
+weakness there was spirit to the young man. He even laughed. The Rhamda
+drew out a watch. He held up two fingers. I heard Hobart mumble.
+
+“Two minutes. Well, I'm betting on the young one. Too much soul. He's
+not dead; just weary.”
+
+He was right. At exactly one hundred and twenty seconds the Rhamda
+closed his watch. He spoke something. Again the young man laughed.
+He lit a cigarette; from the flicker and jerk of the flame he was
+trembling. But he was still emphatic. The other rose from the table,
+walked down the aisle and out of the building. The youth spread out both
+arms and dropped his head upon the table.
+
+It was a little drama enacted almost in silence. Hobart and I exchanged
+glances. The mere glimpse of the Rhamda had brought us both back to the
+Blind Spot. Was there any connection? Who was the young man with the
+life sapped out? I had a recollection of a face strangely familiar.
+Hobart interrupted my thoughts.
+
+“I'd give just about one leg for the gist of that conversation. That was
+the Rhamda; but who is the other ghost?”
+
+“Do you think it has to do with the Blind Spot?”
+
+“I don't think,” averred Hobart. “I know. Wonder what's the time.” He
+glanced at his watch. “Eleven thirty.”
+
+Just here the young man at the table raised up his head. The cigarette
+was still between his fingers; he puffed lamely for a minute, taking a
+dull note of his surroundings. In the well of gaiety and laughter coming
+from all parts of the room his actions were out of place. He seemed
+dazed; unable to pull himself together. Suddenly he looked at us. He
+started.
+
+“He certainly knows us,” I said. “I wonder--by George, he's coming
+over.”
+
+Even his step was feeble. There was exertion about every move of his
+body, the wanness and effort of vanished vitality; he balanced himself
+carefully. Slowly, slowly, line by line his features became familiar,
+the underlines of another, the ghost of one departed. At first I could
+not place him. He held himself up for breath. Who was he? Then it
+suddenly came to me--back to the old days at college--an athlete, one of
+the best of fellows, one of the sturdiest of men! He had come to this!
+
+Hobart was before me.
+
+“By all the things that are holy!” he exclaimed. “Chick Watson! Here,
+have a seat. In the name of Heavens, Chick! What on earth--”
+
+The other dropped feebly into the chair. The body that had once been so
+powerful was a skeleton. His coat was a disguise of padding.
+
+“Hello, Hobart; hello, Harry,” he spoke in a whisper. “Not much like the
+old Chick, am I? First thing, I'll take some brandy.”
+
+It was almost tragic. I glanced at Hobart and nodded to the waiter.
+Could it be Chick Watson? I had seen him a year before, hale, healthy,
+prosperous. And here he was--a wreck!
+
+“No,” he muttered, “I'm not sick--not sick. Lord, boys, it's good to
+meet you. I just thought I would come out for this one last night, hear
+some music, see a pretty face, perhaps meet a friend. But I am afraid--”
+ He dropped off like one suddenly drifting into slumber.
+
+“Hustle that waiter,” I said to Hobart. “Hurry that brandy.”
+
+The stimulant seemed to revive him. He lifted up suddenly. There was
+fear in his eyes; then on seeing himself among friends--relief. He
+turned to me.
+
+“Think I'm sick, don't you?” he asked.
+
+“You certainly are,” I answered.
+
+“Well, I'm not.”
+
+For a moment silence. I glanced at Hobart. Hobart nodded.
+
+“You're just about in line for a doctor, Chick, old boy,” I said. “I'm
+going to see that you have one. Bed for you, and the care of mother--”
+
+He started; he seemed to jerk himself together.
+
+“That's it, Harry; that's what I wanted. It's so hard for me to think.
+Mother, mother! That's why I came downtown. I wanted a friend. I have
+something for you to give to mother.”
+
+“Rats,” I said. “I'll take you to her. What are you talking about?”
+
+But he shook his head.
+
+“I wish that you were telling the truth, Harry. But it's no use--not
+after tonight. All the doctors in the world could not save me. I'm not
+sick, boys, far from it.”
+
+Hobart spoke up.
+
+“What is it, Chick? I have a suspicion. Am I right?”
+
+Chick looked up; he closed his eyes.
+
+“All right, Hobart, what's your suspicion?”
+
+Fenton leaned over. It seemed to me that he was peering into the other's
+soul. He touched his forearm.
+
+“Chick, old boy, I think I know. But tell me. Am I right? It's the Blind
+Spot.”
+
+At the words Watson opened his eyes; they were full of hope and wonder,
+for a moment, and then, as suddenly of a great despair. His body went to
+a heap. His voice was feeble.
+
+“Yes,” he answered, “I am dying--of the Blind Spot”
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE RING
+
+
+It was a terrible thing; death stalking out of the Blind Spot. We had
+almost forgotten. It had been a story hitherto--a wonderful one to be
+sure, and one to arouse conjecture. I had never thought that we were to
+be brought to its shivering contact. It was out of the occult; it had
+been so pronounced by the professor; a great secret of life holding out
+a guerdon of death to its votaries. Witness Chick Watson, the type of
+healthy, fighting manhood--come to this. He opened his eyes feebly; one
+could see the light; the old spirit was there--fighting for life. What
+was this struggle of soul and flesh? Why had the soul hung on? He made
+another effort.
+
+“More drink,” he asked; “more drink. Anything to hold me together. I
+must tell you. You must take my place and--and--fight the Blind Spot!
+Promise that--”
+
+“Order the drinks,” I told Hobart. “I see Dr. Hansen over there. Even if
+we cannot save him we must hold him until we get his story.”
+
+I went and fetched Hansen over.
+
+“A strange case,” he murmured. “Pulse normal; not a trace of fever. Not
+sick, you say--” Hobart pointed to his head. “Ah, I see! I would suggest
+home and a bed.”
+
+Just here Watson opened his eyes again. They rested first upon the
+doctor, then upon myself, and finally upon the brandy. He took it up and
+drank it with eagerness. It was his third one; it gave him a bit more
+life.
+
+“Didn't I tell you, boys, that there is not a doctor on earth that
+can save me? Excuse me, doc. I am not sick. I told them. I am far past
+physic; I have gone beyond medicine. All I ask is stimulant and life
+enough to tell my story.”
+
+“My boy,” asked the doctor kindly, “what ails you?”
+
+Watson smiled. He touched himself on the forehead.
+
+“Up here, doc. There are things in the world with which we may not
+tamper. I tried it. Somebody had to do it and somebody has to do it yet.
+You remember Dr. Holcomb; he was a great man; he was after the secret of
+life. He began it.”
+
+Dr. Hansen started.
+
+“Lord!” he exclaimed, looking at us all; “you don't mean this man is
+mixed up in the Blind Spot?”
+
+We nodded. Watson smiled; again he dropped back into inertia; the speech
+he had made was his longest yet; the brandy was coming into effect.
+
+“Give him brandy,” the doctor said; “it's as good as anything. It will
+hold him together and give him life for a while. Here.” He reached into
+his pocket and flicked something into the glass. “That will help him.
+Gentlemen, do you know what it means? I had always thought! I knew Dr.
+Holcomb! Crossing over the border! It may not be done! The secret of
+life is impossible. Yet--”
+
+Watson opened his eyes again; his spirit seemed suddenly to flicker into
+defiance.
+
+“Who said it was impossible? Who said it? Gentlemen, it IS possible. Dr.
+Holcomb--pardon me. I do not wish to appear a sot; but this brandy is
+about the only thing to hold me together. I have only a few hours left.”
+
+He took the glass, and at one gulp downed the contents. I do not know
+what the doctor had dropped into it. Chick revived suddenly, and a
+strange light blazed up in his eyes, like life rekindled.
+
+“Ah, now I am better. So?”
+
+He turned to us all; then to the doctor.
+
+“So you say the secret of life is impossible?”
+
+“I--”
+
+Chick smiled wanly. “May I ask you: what it is that has just flared up
+within me? I am weak, anaemic, fallen to pieces; my muscles have lost
+the power to function, my blood runs cold, I have been more than two
+feet over the border. And yet--a few drinks of brandy, of stimulants,
+and you have drawn me back, my heart beats strongly, for an hour. By
+means of drugs you have infused a new life--which of course is the
+old--and driven the material components of my body into correlation. You
+are successful for a time; so long as nature is with you; but all the
+while you are held aghast by the knowledge that the least flaw, the
+least disarrangement, and you are beaten.
+
+“It is your business to hold this life or what you may. When it has
+gone your structures, your anatomy, your wonderful human machine is
+worthless. Where has it come from? Where has it gone? I have drunk four
+glasses of brandy; I have a lease of four short hours. Ordinarily it
+would bring reaction; it is poison, to be sure; but it is driving back
+my spirit, giving me life and strength enough to tell my story--in the
+morning I shall be no more. By sequence I am a dead man already. Four
+glasses of brandy; they are speaking. Whence comes this affinity of
+substance and of shadow?”
+
+We all of us listened, the doctor most of all. “Go on,” he said.
+
+“Can't you see?” repeated Watson. “There is affinity between substance
+and shadow; and therefore your spirit or shadow or what you will is
+concrete, is in itself a substance. It is material just as much as you
+are. Because you do not see it is no proof that it is not substance.
+That pot palm yonder does not see you; it is not blessed with eyes.”
+
+The doctor looked at Watson; he spoke gently.
+
+“This is very old stuff, my boy, out of your abstract philosophy. No man
+knows the secret of life. Not even yourself.”
+
+The light in Watson's eyes grew brighter, he straightened; he began
+slipping the ring from his finger.
+
+“No,” he answered. “I don't. I have tried and it was like playing with
+lightning. I sought for life and it is giving me death. But there is one
+man living who has found it.”
+
+“And this man?”
+
+“Is Dr. Holcomb!”
+
+We all of us started. We had every one given the doctor up as dead. The
+very presence of Watson was tragedy. We did not doubt that he had been
+through some terrible experience. There are things in the world that may
+not be unriddled. Some power, some sinister thing was reaching for his
+vitality. What did he know about the professor? Dr. Holcomb had been a
+long time dead.
+
+“Gentlemen. You must hear my story; I haven't long to tell it. However,
+before I start here is a proof for a beginning.”
+
+He tossed the ring upon the table.
+
+It was Hobart who picked it up. A beautiful stone, like a sapphire; blue
+but uncut and of a strange pellucid transparency--a jewel undoubtedly;
+but of a kind we have never seen. We all of us examined it, and were
+all, I am afraid, a bit disappointed. It was a stone and nothing else.
+
+Watson watched us. The waiter had brought more brandy, and Watson was
+sipping it, not because he liked it, he said, but just to keep himself
+at the proper lift.
+
+“You don't understand it, eh? You see nothing? Hobart, have you a match?
+There, that's it; now give me the ring. See--” He struck the match and
+held the flame against the jewel. “Gentlemen, there is no need for me
+to speak. The stone will give you a volume. It's not trickery, I assure
+you, but fact. There, now, perfect. Doctor, you are the sceptic. Take a
+look at the stone.”
+
+The doctor picked it up casually and held it up before his eyes. At
+first he frowned; then came a look of incredulity; his chin dropped and
+he rose in his chair.
+
+“My God,” he exclaimed, “the man's living! It--he--”
+
+But Hobart and I had crowded over. The doctor held the ring so we could
+see it. Inside the stone was Dr. Holcomb!
+
+It was a strenuous moment, and the most incredible. We all of us
+knew the doctor. It was not a photograph, nor a likeness; but the man
+himself. It was beyond all reason that he could be in the jewel; indeed
+there was only the head visible; one could catch the expression of life,
+the movements of the eyelids. Yet how could it be? What was it? It was
+Hobart who spoke first.
+
+“Chick,” he asked, “what's the meaning? Were it not for my own eyes I
+would call it impossible. It's absurd on the face. The doctor! Yet I can
+see him--living. Where is he?”
+
+Chick nodded.
+
+“That's the whole question. Where is he? I know and yet I know nothing.
+You are now looking into the Blind Spot. The doctor sought the secret of
+life--and found it. He was trapped by his own wisdom!”
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE NERVINA
+
+
+For a moment we were silent. The jewel reposed upon the table. What was
+the secret of its phenomena? I could think of nothing in science that
+would explain it. How had Watson come into its possession? What was the
+tale he had to tell? The lean, long finger that clutched for brandy!
+What force was this that had driven him to such a verge? He was
+resigned; though he was defiant he had already conceded his surrender.
+Dr. Hansen spoke.
+
+“Watson,” he asked, “what do you know about the Blind Spot?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+We all turned to Chick. Hobart ordered more brandy. The doctor's eyes
+went to slits. I could not but wonder.
+
+“Chick,” I asked, “who is Rhamda Avec?”
+
+Watson turned.
+
+“You saw him a few minutes ago? You saw him with me? Let me ask you.”
+
+“Yes,” I answered, “I saw him. Most people did. Is he invisible? Is he
+really the phantom they say?”
+
+Somehow the mention of the name made him nervous; he looked cautiously
+about the room.
+
+“That I don't know, Harry. It--If I can only get my wits together. Is he
+a phantom? Yes, I think so. I can't understand him. At least, he has the
+powers we attribute to an apparition. He is strange and unaccountable.
+Sometimes you see him, sometimes you don't. The first known of him was
+on the day Professor Holcomb was to deliver his lecture on the Blind
+Spot. He was tracked, you know, to the very act. Then came in the
+Nervina.”
+
+“And who is the Nervina?”
+
+Watson looked at me blankly.
+
+“The Nervina?” he asked, “The Nervina--what do you know about the
+Nervina?”
+
+“Nothing. You mentioned her just now.”
+
+His mind seemed to ramble. He looked about the room rather fearfully.
+Perhaps he was afraid.
+
+“Did I mention her? I don't know, Harry, my wits are muddled. The
+Nervina? She is a goddess. Never was and never will be woman. She loves;
+she never hates, and still again she does not love. She is beautiful;
+too beautiful for man. I've quit trying.”
+
+“Is she Rhamda's wife?”
+
+His eyes lit fire.
+
+“No!”
+
+“Do you love her?”
+
+He went blank again; but at last he spoke slowly.
+
+“No, I don't love her. What's the use? She's not for me. I did; but I
+learned better. I was after the professor--and the Blind Spot. She--”
+
+Again that look of haunted pursuit. He glanced about the room. Whatever
+had been his experience, it was plain that he had not given up. He held
+something and he held it still. What was it?
+
+“You say you didn't find the Blind Spot?”
+
+“No, I did not find it.”
+
+“Have you any idea?”
+
+“My dear Harry,” he answered, “I am full of ideas. That's the trouble.
+I am near it. It's the cause of my present condition. I don't know just
+what it is nor where. A condition, or a combination of phenomena. You
+remember the lecture that was never delivered? Had the doctor spoken
+that morning the world would have had a great fact. He had made a great
+discovery. It is a terrible thing.” He turned the ring so we could all
+see it--beyond all doubt it was the doctor. “There he is--the professor.
+If he could only speak. The secret of the ages. Just think what it
+means. Where is he? I have taken that jewel to the greatest lapidaries
+and they have one and all been startled. Then they all come to the same
+conclusion--trickery--Chinese or Hindu work, they say; most of them want
+to cut.”
+
+“Have you taken it to the police?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“I would simply be laughed at.”
+
+“Have you ever reported this Rhamda?”
+
+“A score of times. They have come and sought; but every time he has gone
+out--like a shadow. It's got to be an old story now. If you call them up
+and tell them they laugh.”
+
+“How do you account for it?”
+
+“I don't. I--I--I'm just dying.”
+
+“And not one member of the force--surely?”
+
+“Oh, yes. There's one. You have heard of Jerome. Jerome followed the
+professor and the Rhamda to the house of the Blind Spot, as he calls it.
+He's not a man to fool. He had eyes and he saw it. He will not leave it
+till he's dead.”
+
+“But he did not see the Blind Spot, did he? How about trickery? Did it
+ever occur to you that the professor might have been murdered?”
+
+“Take a look at that, Harry. Does that look like murder? When you see
+the man living?”
+
+Watson reached over and turned up the jewel.
+
+Here Hobart came in.
+
+“Just a minute, Chick. My wise friend here is an attorney. He's always
+the first into everything, especially conversation. It's been my job
+pulling Harry out of trouble. Just one question.”
+
+“All right.”
+
+“Didn't you--er--keep company, as they say, with Bertha Holcomb while at
+college?”
+
+A kind look came into the man's eyes; he nodded; his whole face was soft
+and saddened.
+
+“I see. That naturally brought you to the Blind Spot. You are after her
+father. Am I correct?”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“All right. Perhaps Bertha has taken you into some of her father's
+secrets. He undoubtedly had data on this Blind Spot. Have you ever been
+able to locate it?”
+
+“No!”
+
+“I see. This Rhamda? Has he ever sought that data?”
+
+“Many, many times.”
+
+“Does he know you haven't got it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“So. I understand. You hold the whip hand through your ignorance. Rhamda
+is your villain--and perhaps this Nervina? Who is she?”
+
+“A goddess.”
+
+Hobart smiled.
+
+“Oh, yes!” He laughed. “A goddess. Naturally! They all are. There are
+about forty in this room at the present moment, my dear fellow. Watch
+them dance!”
+
+Now I had picked up the ring. It just fitted the natural finger. I tried
+it on and looked into the jewel. The professor was growing dimmer. The
+marvellous blue was returning, a hue of fascination; not the hot flash
+of the diamond, but the frozen light of the iceberg. It was frigid,
+cold, terrible, blue, alluring. To me at the moment it seemed alive and
+pulselike. I could not account for it. I felt the lust for possession.
+Perhaps there was something in my face. Watson leaned over and touched
+me on the arm.
+
+“Harry,” he asked, “do you think you can stand up under the burden? Will
+you take my place?”
+
+I looked into his eyes; in their black depths was almost entreaty. How
+haunting they were, and beseeching.
+
+“Will you take my place?” he begged. “Are you willing to give up all
+that God gives to the fortunate? Will you give up your practice? Will
+you hold out to the end? Never surrender? Will--”
+
+“You mean will I take this ring?”
+
+He nodded.
+
+“Exactly. But you must know beforehand. It would be murder to give it to
+you without the warning. Either your death or that of Dr. Holcomb. It is
+not a simple jewel. It defies description. It takes a man to wear it.
+It is subtle and of destruction; it eats like a canker; it destroys the
+body; it frightens the soul--”
+
+“An ominous piece of finery,” I spoke. “Wherein--”
+
+But Watson interrupted. There was appeal in his eyes.
+
+“Harry,” he went on, “I am asking. Somebody has got to wear this ring.
+He must be a man. He must be fearless; he must taunt the devil. It is
+hard work, I assure you. I cannot last much longer. You loved the old
+doctor. If we get at this law we have done more for mankind than either
+of us may do with his profession. We must save the old professor. He
+is living and he is waiting. There are perils and forces that we do not
+know of. The doctor went at it alone and fearless; he succumbed to his
+own wisdom. I have followed after, and I have been crushed down--perhaps
+by my ignorance. I am not afraid. But I don't want my work to die.
+Somebody has got to take it on and you are the man.”
+
+They were all of them looking at me. I studied the wonderful blue
+and its light. The image of the great professor had dimmed almost
+completely. It was a sudden task and a great one. Here was a law; one of
+the great secrets of Cosmos. What was it? Somehow the lure caught into
+my vitals. I couldn't picture myself ever coming to the extremity of
+my companion. Besides, it was a duty. I owed it to the old doctor. It
+seemed somehow that he was speaking. Though Watson did the talking I
+could feel him calling. Would I be afraid? Besides, there was the jewel.
+It was calling; already I could feel it burning into my spirit. I looked
+up.
+
+“Do you take it, Harry?”
+
+I nodded.
+
+“I do. God knows I am worthless enough. I'll take it up. It may give me
+a chance to engage with this famous Rhamda.”
+
+“Be careful of Rhamda, Harry. And above all don't let him have the
+ring.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because. Now listen. I'm not laying this absolutely, understand.
+Nevertheless the facts all point in one direction. Hold the ring.
+Somewhere in that lustre lies a great secret; it controls the Blind
+Spot. The Rhamda himself may not take it off your finger. You are immune
+from violence. Only the ring itself may kill you.”
+
+He coughed.
+
+“God knows,” he spoke, “it has killed me.”
+
+It was rather ominous. The mere fact of that cough and his weakness was
+enough. One would come to this. He had warned me, and he had besought me
+with the same voice as the warning.
+
+“But what is the Blind Spot?”
+
+“Then you take the ring? What is the time? Twelve. Gentlemen--”
+
+Now here comes in one of the strange parts of my story--one that I
+cannot account for. Over the shoulder of Dr. Hansen I could watch the
+door. Whether it was the ring or not I do not know. At the time I did
+not reason. I acted upon impulse. It was an act beyond good breeding. I
+had never done such a thing before. I had never even seen the woman.
+
+The woman? Why do I say it? She was never a woman--she was a girl--far,
+far transcendent. It was the first time I had ever seen her--standing
+there before the door. I had never beheld such beauty, such profile,
+poise--the witching, laughing, night-black of her eyes; the perfectly
+bridged nose and the red, red lips that smiled, it seemed to me, in
+sadness. She hesitated, and as if puzzled, lifted a jewelled hand to
+her raven mass of hair. To this minute I cannot account for my action,
+unless, perchance, it was the ring. Perhaps it was. Anyway I had risen.
+
+How well do I remember.
+
+It seemed to me that I had known her a long, long time. There was
+something about her that was not seduction; but far, far above it.
+Somewhere I had seen her, had known her. She was looking and she was
+waiting for me. There was something about her that was super feminine. I
+thought it then, and I say it now.
+
+Just then her glance came my way. She smiled, and nodded; there was a
+note of sadness in her voice.
+
+“Harry Wendel!”
+
+There is no accounting for my action, nor my wonder; she knew me. Then
+it was true! I was not mistaken! Somewhere I had seen her. I felt a
+vague and dim rush of dreamy recollections. Ah, that was the answer! She
+was a girl of dreams and phantoms. Even then I knew it; she was not
+a woman; not as we conceive her; she was some materialisation out of
+Heaven. Why do I talk so? Ah! this strange beauty that is woman! From
+the very first she held me in the thrall that has no explanation.
+
+“Do we dance?” she asked simply.
+
+The next moment I had her in my arms and we were out among the dancers.
+That my actions were queer and entirely out of reason never occurred
+to me. There was a call about her beautiful body and in her eyes that
+I could not answer. There was a fact between us, some strange bond
+that was beyond even passion. I danced, and in an extreme emotion of
+happiness. A girl out of the dreams and the ether--a sprig of life woven
+out of the moonbeams!
+
+“Do you know me?” she asked as we danced.
+
+“Yes,” I answered, “and no. I have seen you; but I do not remember; you
+come from the sunshine.”
+
+She laughed prettily.
+
+“Do you always talk like this?”
+
+“You are out of my dreams,” I answered: “it is sufficient. But who are
+you?”
+
+She held back her pretty head and looked at me; her lips drooped
+slightly at the corners, a sad smile, and tender, in the soft wonderful
+depths of her eyes--a pity.
+
+“Harry,” she asked, “are you going to wear this ring?”
+
+So that was it. The ring and the maiden. What was the bond? There was
+weirdness in its colour, almost cabalistic--a call out of the occult.
+The strange beauty of the girl, her remarkable presence, and her
+concern. Whoever and whatever she was her anxiety was not personal. In
+some way she was woven up with this ring and poor Watson.
+
+“I think I shall,” I answered.
+
+Again the strange querulous pity and hesitation; her eyes grew darker,
+almost pleading.
+
+“You won't give it to me?”
+
+How near I came to doing it I shall not tell. It would be hard to say
+it. I knew vaguely that she was playing; that I was the plaything. It is
+hard for a man to think of himself as being toyed with. She was certain;
+she was confident of my weakness. It was resentment, perhaps, and pride
+of self that gave the answer.
+
+“I think I shall keep it.”
+
+“Do you know the danger, Harry? It is death to wear it. A thousand
+perils--”
+
+“Then I shall keep it. I like peril. You wish for the ring. If I keep it
+I may have you. This is the first time I have danced with the girl out
+of the moonbeams.”
+
+Her eyes snapped, and she stopped dancing. I don't think my words
+displeased her. She was still a woman.
+
+“Is this final? You're a fine young man, Mr. Wendel. I know you. I
+stepped in to save you. You are playing with something stranger than the
+moonbeams. No man may wear that ring and hold to life. Again, Harry, I
+ask you; for your own sake.”
+
+At this moment we passed Watson. He was watching; as our eyes glanced
+he shook his head. Who was this girl? She was as beautiful as sin and as
+tender as a virgin. What interest had she in myself?
+
+“That's just the reason,” I laughed. “You are too interested. You are
+too beautiful to wear it. I am a man; I revel in trouble; you are a
+girl. It would not be honourable to allow you to take it. I shall keep
+it.”
+
+She had overreached herself, and she knew it. She bit her lip. But she
+took it gracefully; so much so, in fact, that I thought she meant it.
+
+“I'm sorry,” she answered slowly. “I had hopes. It is terrible to look
+at Watson and then to think of you. It is, really”--a faint tremor ran
+through her body; her hand trembled--“it is terrible. You young men are
+so unafraid. It's too bad.”
+
+Just then the door was opened; outside I could see the bank of fog;
+someone passed. She turned a bit pale.
+
+“Excuse me. I must be going. Don't you see I'm sorry--”
+
+She held out her hand--the same sad little smile. On the impulse of the
+moment, unmindful of place, I drew it to my lips and kissed it. She was
+gone.
+
+I returned to the table. The three men were watching me: Watson
+analytically, the doctor with wonder, and Hobart with plain disgust.
+Hobart spoke first.
+
+“Nice for sister Charlotte, eh, Harry?”
+
+I had not a word to say. In the full rush of the moment I knew that he
+was right. It was all out of reason. I had no excuse outside of sheer
+insanity--and dishonour. The doctor said nothing. It was only in
+Watson's face that there was a bit of understanding.
+
+“Hobart,” he said, “I have told you. It is not Harry's fault. It is the
+Nervina. No man may resist her. She is beauty incarnate; she weaves
+with the hearts of men, and she loves no one. It is the ring. She, the
+Rhamda, the Blind Spot, and the ring. I have never been able to unravel
+them. Please don't blame Harry. He went to her even as I. She has but
+to beckon. But he kept the ring. I watched them. This is but the
+beginning.”
+
+But Hobart muttered: “She's a beauty all right--a beauty. That's the
+rub. I know Harry--I know him as a brother, and I want him so in fact.
+But I'd hate to trust that woman.”
+
+Watson smiled.
+
+“Never fear, Hobart, your sister is safe enough. The Nervina is not a
+woman. She is not of the flesh.”
+
+“Brr,” said the doctor, “you give me the creeps.”
+
+Watson reached for the brandy; he nodded to the doctor.
+
+“Just a bit more of that stuff if you please. Whatever it is, on the
+last night one has no fear of habit. There--Now, gentlemen, if you will
+come with me, I shall take you to the house of the Blind Spot.”
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+“NOW THERE ARE THREE”
+
+
+I shall never forget that night. When we stepped to the pavement the
+whole world was shrouded. The heavy fog clung like depression; life
+was gone out--a foreboding of gloom and disaster. It was cold, dank,
+miserable; one shuddered instinctively and battered against the wall
+with steaming columns of breath. Just outside the door we were detained.
+
+“Dr. Hansen?”
+
+Someone stepped beside us.
+
+“Dr. Hansen?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“A message, sir.”
+
+The doctor made a gesture of impatience.
+
+“Bother!” he spoke. “Bother! A message. Nothing in the world would stop
+me! I cannot leave.”
+
+Nevertheless he stepped back into the light.
+
+“Just a minute, gentlemen.”
+
+He tore open the envelope. Then he looked up at the messenger and then
+at us. His face was startled--almost frightened.
+
+“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am sorry. Not a thing in the world would detain
+me but this. I would go with you, but I may not. My duty as a physician.
+I had hopes.” He came over to me and spoke softly. “I am going to send
+you one of the greatest specialists in the city in my stead. This young
+man should have attention. Have you the address?”
+
+“288 Chatterton Place,” I answered.
+
+“Very well. I am sorry, very much disappointed. However, it is
+my daughter, and I cannot do otherwise. Continue the brandy for a
+while--and this.” He slipped an envelope into my hand. “By that time Dr.
+Higgins will be with you.”
+
+“You think there is hope?” I asked.
+
+“There's always hope,” replied the doctor.
+
+I returned to my companions. They were walking slowly. It was work for
+poor Watson. He dragged on, leaning on Hobart's arm. But at last he gave
+up.
+
+“No,” he said, “I can't make it. I'm too far gone. I had thought--Oh,
+what a lapse it has been! I am eighty years of age; one year ago I was
+a boy. If only I had some more brandy. I have some at the house. We must
+make that. I must show you; there I can give you the details.”
+
+“Hail a cab,” I said. “Here's one now.”
+
+A few minutes later we were before the House of the Blind Spot. It was a
+two storey drab affair, much like a thousand others, old-fashioned, and
+might have been built in the early nineties. It had been outside of the
+fire limits of 1906, and so had survived the great disaster. Chatterton
+Place is really a short street running lengthwise along the summit of
+the hill. A flight of stone steps descended to the pavement.
+
+Watson straightened up with an effort.
+
+“This is the house,” he spoke. “I came here a year ago. I go away
+tonight. I had hoped to find it. I promised Bertha. I came alone. I had
+reasons to believe I had solved it. I found the Rhamda and the Nervina.
+I had iron will and courage--also strength. The Rhamda was never able
+to control me. My life is gone but not my will. Now I have left him
+another. Do not surrender, Harry. It is a gruesome task; but hold on
+to the end. Help me up the steps. There now. Just wait a minute till I
+fetch a stimulant.”
+
+He did not ring for a servant. That I noticed. Instead he groped about
+for a key, unlocked the door and stumbled into a room. He fumbled for a
+minute among some glasses.
+
+“Will you switch on a light?” he asked.
+
+Hobart struck a match; when he found it he pressed the switch.
+
+The room in which we were standing was a large one, fairly well
+furnished, and lined on two sides with bookshelves; in the centre was an
+oak table cluttered with papers, a couple of chairs, and on one of them,
+a heavy pipe, which, somehow, I did not think of as Watson's. He noticed
+my look.
+
+“Jerome's,” he explained. “We live here--Jerome, the detective, and
+myself. He has been here since the day of the doctor's disappearance. I
+came here a year ago. He is in Nevada at present. That leaves me alone.
+You will notice the books, mostly occult: partly mine, partly the
+detective's. We have gone at it systematically from the beginning.
+We have learned almost everything but what would help us. Mostly
+sophistry--and guesswork. Beats all how much ink has been wasted to say
+nothing. We were after the Blind Spot.”
+
+“But what is it? Is it in this house?”
+
+“I can answer one part of your question,” he answered, “but not the
+other. It is here somewhere, in some place. Jerome is positive of that.
+You remember the old lady? The one who died? Her actions were rather
+positive even if feeble. She led Jerome to this next room.” He turned
+and pointed; the door was open. I could see a sofa and a few chairs;
+that was all.
+
+“It was in here. The bell. Jerome never gets tired of telling. A church
+bell. In the centre of the room. At first I didn't believe; but now I
+accept it all. I know, but what I know is by intuition.”
+
+“Sort of sixth sense?'
+
+“Yes. Or foresight.”
+
+“You never saw this bell nor found it? Never were able to arrive at an
+explanation?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“How about the Rhamda? The Nervina? Do they come to this house?”
+
+“Not often.”
+
+“How do they come in? Through the window?”
+
+He smiled rather sadly. “I don't know. At least they come. You shall see
+them yourself. The Rhamda still has something to do with Dr. Holcomb.
+Somehow his very concern tells me the doctor is safe. Undoubtedly
+the professor made a great discovery. But he was not alone. He had
+a co-worker--the Rhamda. For reasons of his own the Rhamda wishes to
+control the Blind Spot.”
+
+“Then the professor is in this Blind Spot?”
+
+“We think so. At least it is our conjecture. We do not know.”
+
+“Then you don't think it trickery?”
+
+“No, hardly. Harry, you know better than that. Can you imagine the great
+doctor the dupe of a mere trickster? The professor was a man of great
+science and was blessed with an almighty sound head. But he had one
+weakness.”
+
+Hobart spoke up.
+
+“What is it, Chick? I think I know what you mean. The old boy was
+honest?”
+
+“Exactly. He had been a scholar all his life. He taught ethics. He
+believed in right. He practised his creed. When he came to the crucial
+experiment he found himself dealing with a rogue. The Rhamda helped him
+just so far; but once he had the professor in his power it was not his
+purpose to release him until he was secure of the Blind Spot.”
+
+“I see,” I spoke. “The man is a villain. I think we can handle him.”
+
+But Watson shook his head.
+
+“That's just it, Harry! The man! If he were a man I could have handled
+him in short order. That's what I thought at first. Don't make any
+mistake. Don't try violence. That's the whole crux of the difficulty. If
+he were only a man! Unfortunately, he is not.”
+
+“Not a man!” I exclaimed. “What do you mean? Then, what is he?”
+
+“He is a phantom.”
+
+I glanced at Hobart and caught his eye. Hobart believed him! The poor
+pallid face of Watson, the athlete; there was nothing left to him but
+his soul! I shall not forget Watson as he sat there, his lean, long
+fingers grasping the brandy glass, his eyes burning and his life holding
+back from the pit through sheer will and courage. Would I come to this?
+Would I have the strength to measure up to his standard?
+
+Hobart broke the tension.
+
+“Chick's right. There is something in it, Harry. Not all the secrets of
+the universe have been unlocked by any means. Now, Chick, about details.
+Have you any data--any notes?”
+
+Watson rose. I could see he was grateful.
+
+“You believe me, don't you, Hobart? It is good. I had hoped to find
+someone, and I found you two. Harry, remember what I have told you. Hold
+the ring. You take my place. Whatever happens, stick out to the end. You
+have Hobart here to help you. Now just a minute. The library is here;
+you can look over my books. I shall return in a moment.”
+
+He stepped out into the hall; we could hear his weary feet dragging down
+the hallway--a hollow sound and a bit uncanny. Somehow my mind rambled
+back to that account I had read in the newspaper--Jerome's story--“Like
+weary bones dragging slippers.” And the old lady. Who was she? Why was
+everyone in this house pulled down to exhaustion--the words of the
+old lady, I could almost hear them; the dank air murmuring their
+recollection. “Now there are two. Now there are two!”
+
+“What's the matter, Harry?”
+
+Perhaps I was frightened. I do not know. I looked around. The sound of
+Watson's footsteps had died away; there was a light in the back of the
+building coming toward us.
+
+“Nothing! Only--damn this place, Hobart. Don't you notice it? It's
+enough to eat your heart out.”
+
+“Rather interesting,” said Hobart. It was too interesting for me. I
+stepped over to the shelves and looked at the titles. Sanskrit and
+Greek; German and French--the Vedas, Sir Oliver Lodge, Besant, Spinoza,
+a conglomeration of all ages and tongues; a range of metaphysics that
+was as wide as Babel, and about as enlightening. As Babel? Over my
+shoulders came the strangest sound of all, weak, piping, tremulous,
+fearful--“Now there are two. Now there are two.” My heart gave a fearful
+leap. “Soon there will be three! Soon--”
+
+I turned suddenly about. I had a fearful thought. I looked at Hobart.
+A strange, insidious fear clutched at me. Was the thought intrinsic? If
+not, where had it come from? Three? I strained my ears to hear Watson's
+footsteps. He was in the back part of the building. I must have some
+air.
+
+“I'm going to open the door, Hobart,” I spoke. “The front door, and look
+out into the street.”
+
+“Don't blame you much. Feel a bit that way myself. About time for Dr.
+Higgins. Here comes Chick again. Take a look outside and see if the doc
+is coming.”
+
+I opened the door and looked out into the dripping fog bank. What a pair
+of fools we were! We both knew it, and we were both seeking an excuse.
+In the next room through the curtains I could see the weak form of
+Watson; he was bearing a light.
+
+Suddenly the light went out.
+
+I was at high tension; the mere fact of the light was nothing, but it
+meant a world at that moment--a strange sound--a struggle--then the
+words of Watson--Chick Watson's:
+
+“Harry! Harry! Hobart! Harry! Come here! It's the Blind Spot!”
+
+It was in the next room. The despair of that call is unforgettable, like
+that of one suddenly falling into space. Then the light dropped to the
+floor. I could see the outlines of his figure and a weird, single string
+of incandescence. Hobart turned and I leaped. It was a blur, the form
+of a man melting into nothing. I sprang into the room, tearing down the
+curtains. Hobart was on top of me. But we were too late. I could
+feel the vibrancy of something uncanny as I rushed across the space
+intervening. Through my mind darted the thrill of terror. It had come
+suddenly, and in climax. It was over before it had commenced. The light
+had gone out. Only by the gleam from the other room could we make out
+each others' faces. The air was vibrant, magnetic. There was no Watson.
+But we could hear his voice. Dim and fearful, coming down the corridors
+of time.
+
+“Hold that ring, Harry! Hold that ring!” Then the faint despair out of
+the weary distance, faint, but a whole volume:
+
+“The Blind Spot!”
+
+It was over as quickly as that. The whole thing climaxed into an
+instant. It is difficult to describe. One cannot always analyse
+sensations. Mine, I am afraid, were muddled. A thousand insistent
+thoughts clashed through my brain. Horror, wonder, doubt! I have only
+one persistent and predominating recollection. The old lady! I could
+almost feel her coming out of the shadows. There was sadness and pity;
+out of the stillness and the corners. What had been the dirge of her
+sorrow?
+
+“NOW THERE ARE THREE!”
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+MAN OR PHANTOM
+
+
+It was Hobart who came to first. His voice was good to hear. It
+was natural; it was sweet and human, but it was pregnant with
+disappointment: “We are fools, Harry; we are fools!”
+
+But I could only stare. I remember saying: “The Blind Spot?”
+
+“Yes,” returned Hobart, “the Blind Spot. But what is it? We saw him go.
+Did you see it?”
+
+“It gets me,” I answered. “He just vanished into space. It--” Frankly I
+was afraid.
+
+“It tallies well with the reports. The old lady and Jerome. Remember?”
+
+“And the bell?” I looked about the room.
+
+“Exactly. Phenomena! Watson was right. I just wonder--but the bell?
+Remember the doctor? 'The greatest day since Columbus.' No, don't cross
+the room, Harry, I'm a bit leery: A great discovery! I should say it
+was. How do you account for it?”
+
+“Supernatural.”
+
+Fenton shook his head.
+
+“By no means! It's the gateway to the universe--into Cosmos.” His eyes
+sparkled. “My Lord, Harry! Don't you see! Once we control it. The Blind
+Spot! What is beyond? We saw Chick Watson go. Before our eyes. Where did
+he go to? It beats death itself.”
+
+I started across the room, but Hobart caught me with both arms: “No, no,
+no, Harry. My Lord! I don't want to lose you. No! You foolhardly little
+cuss--stand back!”
+
+He threw me violently against the wall. The impact quite took my breath.
+
+On the instant the old rush of temper surged up in me. From boyhood we
+had these moments. Hobart settled himself and awaited the rush that he
+knew was coming. In his great, calm, brute strength there was still a
+greatness of love.
+
+“Harry,” he was saying, “for the love of Heaven, listen to reason! Have
+we got to have a knock-down and drag-out on this of all nights? Have I
+got to lick you again? Do you want to roll into the Blind Spot?”
+
+Why did God curse me with such a temper? On such moments as this I could
+feel something within me snapping. It was fury and unreason. How I loved
+him! And yet we had fought a thousand times over just such provocation.
+Over his shoulders I could see the still open door that led into the
+street. A heavy form was looming through the opening; out of the corner
+of my eye I caught the lines of the form stepping out of the shadows--it
+crossed the room and stood beside Hobart Fenton. It was Rhamda Avec!
+
+I leaped. The fury of a thousand conflicts--and the exultation. For the
+glory of such moments it is well worth dying. One minute flying through
+the air--the old catapult tackle--and the next a crashing of bone
+and sinew. We rolled over, head on, and across the floor. Curses and
+execrations; the deep bass voice of Hobart:
+
+“Hold him, Harry! Hold him! That's the way! Hold him! Hold him!”
+
+We went crashing about the room. He was the slipperiest thing I had ever
+laid hold of. But he was bone--bone and sinew; he was a man! I remember
+the wild thrill of exultation at the discovery. It was battle! And
+death! The table went over, we went spinning against the wall, a crash
+of falling bookcases, books and broken glass, a scurry and a flying heap
+of legs and arms. He was wonderfully strong and active, like a panther.
+Each time I held him he would twist out like a cat, straighten, and
+throw me out of hold. I clung on, fighting, striving for a grip, working
+for the throat. He was a man--a man! I remembered that he must never get
+away. He must account for Watson.
+
+In the first rush I was a madman. The mere force of my onslaught had
+borne him down. But in a moment he had recovered and was fighting
+systematically. As much as he could he kept over on one side of me,
+always forcing me toward the inner room where Watson had disappeared. In
+spite of my fury he eluded every effort that I made for a vital part. We
+rolled, fought, struck and struggled.
+
+I could hear Hobart's bass thundering: “Over! Over! Under! Look out! Now
+you've got him! Harry! Harry! Look out! Hold him, for the love of Heaven
+I see his trick. That's his trick. The Blind Spot!”
+
+We were rolled clear over, picked, heaved, shoved against the front
+wall. There were three! The great heaving bulk of Fenton; the fighting
+tiger between us; and myself! Surely such strength was not human; we
+could not pin him; his quickness was uncanny; he would uncoil, twist
+himself and throw us loose. Gradually he worked us away from the front
+wall and into the centre of the room.
+
+Could any mere man fight so? Hobart was as good as a ton; I was as much
+for action. Slowly, slowly in spite of our efforts, he was working us
+towards the Blind Spot. Confident of success, he was over, around, and
+in and under. In a spin of a second he went into the attack. He fairly
+bore us off our feet. We were on the last inch of our line; the stake
+was--
+
+What was it? We all went down. A great volume of sound! We were inside
+a bell! My whole head buzzed to music and a roar; the whir of a thousand
+vibrations; the inside of sound. I fell face downwards; the room went
+black.
+
+What was it? How long I lay there I don't know. A dim light was burning.
+I was in a room. The ceiling overhead was worked in a grotesque pattern;
+I could not make it out. My clothes were in tatters and my hand was
+covered with blood. Something warm was trickling down my face. What was
+it? The air was still and sodden. Who was this man beside me? And what
+was this smell of roses?
+
+I lay still for a minute, thinking. Ah, yes! It came back. Watson--Chick
+Watson! The Blind Spot! The Rhamda and the bell!
+
+Surely it was a dream. How could all this be in one short night? It was
+like a nightmare and impossible. I raised up on my elbow and looked at
+the form beside me. It was Hobart Fenton. He was unconscious.
+
+For a moment my mind was whirring; I was too weak and unsteady. I
+dropped back and wondered absently at the roses. Roses meant
+perfume, and perfume meant a woman. What could--something touched my
+face--something soft; it plucked tenderly at my tangled hair and drew it
+away from my forehead. It was the hand of a woman!
+
+“You poor, foolish boy! You foolish boy!”
+
+Somewhere I had heard that voice; it held a touch of sadness; it was
+familiar; it was soft and silken like music that might have been woven
+out of the moonbeams. Who was it that always made me think of moonbeams?
+I lay still, thinking.
+
+“He dared; he dared; he dared!” she was saying. “As if there were not
+two! He shall pay for this! Am I to be a plaything? You poor boy!”
+
+Then I remembered. I looked up. It was the Nervina. She was stooping
+over with my head against her. How beautiful her eyes were! In their
+depths was a pathos and a tenderness that was past a woman's, the same
+slight droop at the corners of the mouth, and the wistfulness; her
+features were relaxed like a mother's--a wondrous sweetness and pity.
+
+“Harry,” she asked, “where is Watson? Did he go?”
+
+I nodded.
+
+“Into the Blind Spot?”
+
+“Yes. What is the Blind Spot?”
+
+She ignored the question.
+
+“I am sorry” she answered. “So sorry. I would have saved him. And the
+Rhamda; was he here, too?”
+
+I nodded. Her eyes flashed wickedly.
+
+“And--and you--tell me, did you fight with the Rhamda? You--”
+
+“It was Watson,” I interrupted. “This Rhamda is behind it all. He is the
+villain. He can fight like a tiger; whoever he is he can fight.”
+
+She frowned slightly; she shook her head.
+
+“You young men,” she said. “You young men! You are all alike! Why must
+it be? I am so sorry. And you fought with the Rhamda? You could not
+overcome him, of course. But tell me, how could you resist him? What did
+you do?”
+
+What did she mean? I had felt his flesh and muscle. He was a man. Why
+could he not be conquered--not be resisted?
+
+“I don't understand,” I answered. “He is a man. I fought him. He was
+here. Let him account for Watson. We fought alone at first, until
+he tried to throw me into this Thing. Then Hobart stepped in. Once I
+thought we had him, but he was too slippery. He came near putting us
+both in. I don't know. Something happened--a bell.”
+
+Her hand was on my arm, she clutched it tightly, she swallowed hard; in
+her eyes flashed the fire that I had noticed once before, the softness
+died out, and their glint was almost terrible.
+
+“He! The bell saved you? He would dare to throw you into the Blind
+Spot!”
+
+I lay back. I was terribly weak and uncertain. This beautiful woman!
+What was her interest in myself?
+
+“Harry,” she spoke, “let me ask you. I am your friend. If you only knew!
+I would save you. It must not be. Will you give me the ring? If I could
+only tell you! You must not have it. It is death--yes, worse than death.
+No man may wear it.”
+
+So that was it. Again and so soon I was to be tempted. Was her concern
+feigned or real? Why did she call me Harry? Why did I not resent it? She
+was wonderful; she was beautiful; she was pure. Was it merely a subtle
+act for the Rhamda? I could still hear Watson's voice ringing out of the
+Blind Spot; “Hold the ring! Hold the ring!” I could not be false to my
+friend.
+
+“Tell me first,” I asked. “Who is this Rhamda? What is he? Is he a man?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Not a man! I remembered Watson's words: “A phantom!” How could it be? At
+least I would find out what I could.
+
+“Then tell me, what is he?”
+
+“She smiled faintly; again the elusive tenderness lingered about her
+lips, the wistful droop at the corners.
+
+“That I may not tell you, Harry. You couldn't understand. If only I
+could.”
+
+Certainly I couldn't understand her evasion. I studied and watched
+her--her wondrous hair, the perfection of her throat, the curve of her
+bosom.
+
+“Then he is supernatural.”
+
+“No, not that, Harry. That would explain everything. One cannot go above
+Nature. He is living just as you are.”
+
+I studied a moment.
+
+“Are you a woman?” I asked suddenly.
+
+Perhaps I should not have asked it; she was so sad and beautiful,
+somehow I could not doubt her sincerity. There was a burden at the
+back of her sadness, some great yearning unsatisfied, unattainable.
+She dropped her head. The hand upon my arm quivered and clutched
+spasmodically; I caught the least sound of a sob. When I looked up her
+eyes were wet and sparkling.
+
+“Oh,” she said. “Harry, why do you ask it? A woman! Harry, a woman! To
+live and love and to be loved. What must it be? There is so much of life
+that is sweet and pure. I love it--I love it! I can have everything
+but the most exalted thing of all. I can live, see, enjoy, think, but I
+cannot have love. You knew it from the first. How did you know it? You
+said--Ah, it is true! I am out of the moonbeams.” She controlled herself
+suddenly. “Excuse me,” she said simply. “But you can never understand.
+May I have the ring?”
+
+It was like a dream--her beauty, her voice, everything. But I could
+still hear Watson. I was to be tempted, cajoled, flattered. What was
+this story out of the moonbeams? Certainly she was the most beautiful
+girl I had ever seen. Why had I asked such a question?
+
+“I shall keep the ring,” I answered.
+
+She sighed. A strange weakness came over me; I was drowsy; I lapsed
+again into unconsciousness; just as I was fading away I heard her
+speaking: “I am so sorry!”
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+BAFFLED
+
+
+Was it a dream? The next I knew somebody was dousing water down my neck.
+It was Hobart Fenton. “Lord,” he was saying, “I thought you were never
+coming to. What hit us? You are pretty well cut up. That was some fight.
+This Rhamda, who is he? Can you figure him out? Did you hear that bell?
+What was it?”
+
+I sat up. “Where is the Nervina?” I asked. “The who?” He was bewildered.
+“Oh, down at the cafe, I suppose. Thought you had forgotten her. Wasn't
+her mate enough? It might be healthy to forget his Nervina.”
+
+He was a fine sight; his clothes were in ribbons; his plump figure was
+breaking out at the seams. He regarded me critically.
+
+“What d'you think of the Blind Spot?” he asked. “Who is the Rhamda? He
+put us out pretty easily.”
+
+“But the girl?” I interrupted. “The girl? Confound it, the girl?”
+
+It was sometime before I could make him understand; even then he refused
+to believe me.
+
+“It was all a dream,” he said; “all a dream.”
+
+But I was certain.
+
+Fenton began prodding about the room. I do not believe any apartment was
+ever so thoroughly ransacked. We even tore up the carpet. When we were
+through he sat in the midst of the debris and wiped his forehead.
+
+“It's no use, Harry--no use. We might have known better. It can't be
+done. Yet you say you saw a string of incandescence.”
+
+“A single string; the form of Watson; a blur--then nothing,” I answered.
+
+He thought. He quoted the professor:
+
+“'Out of the occult I shall bring you the proof and the substance. It
+will be concrete--within the reach of your senses.' Isn't that what the
+doctor said?”
+
+“Then you believe Professor Holcomb?”
+
+“Why not? Didn't we see it? I know a deal of material science; but
+nothing like this. I always had faith in Dr. Holcomb. After all, it's
+not impossible. First we must go over the house thoroughly.”
+
+We did. Most of all, we were interested in that bell. We did not think,
+either of us, that so much noise could come out of nothing. It was too
+material. The other we could credit to the occult; but not the sound. It
+had drowned our consciousness; perhaps it had saved us from the Rhamda.
+But we found nothing. We went over the house systematically. It was much
+as it had been previously described, only now a bit more furnished. The
+same dank, musty smell and the same suggestive silence. We returned to
+the lower floor and the library. It was a sorry sight. We straightened
+up the shelves and returned the books to their places.
+
+It was getting along toward morning. Hobart sailed at nine o'clock. We
+must have new clothing and some coffee; likewise we must collect our
+wits. I had the ring, and had given my pledge to Watson. I was muddled.
+We must get down to sane action. First of all we must return to our
+rooms.
+
+The fog had grown thicker; one could almost taste it. I couldn't
+suppress a shudder. It was cold, dank, repressive. Neither of us spoke
+a word on our way downtown. Hobart opened the door to our apartment; he
+turned on the lights.
+
+In a few moments we had hot, steaming cups of coffee. Still we did not
+speak. Hobart sat in his chair, his elbows on the table and his head
+between his hands. My thoughts ran back to that day in college when he
+said “I was just thinking, Harry, if I had one hundred thousand dollars,
+I would solve the Blind Spot.”
+
+That was long ago. We had neither of us thought that we would come to
+the fact.
+
+“Well,” I spoke, “have you got that hundred thousand dollars? You had an
+idea once.”
+
+He looked up. “I've got it yet. I am not certain. It is merely a theory.
+But it's not impossible.”
+
+“Well, what is it?”
+
+He took another drink of coffee and settled back in his chair.
+
+“It is energy, Harry--force. Nothing but energy--and Nature.”
+
+“Then it's not occult?” I asked.
+
+“Certainly it is. I didn't say that. It is what the professor promised.
+Something concrete for our senses. If the occult is, it can certainly be
+proven. The professor was right. It is energy, force, vibration. It has
+a law. The old doctor was caught somehow. We must watch our step and
+see that we aren't swallowed up also. Perhaps we shall go the way of
+Watson.”
+
+I shuddered.
+
+“I hope not. But explain. You speak in volumes. Come back to earth.”
+
+“That's easy, Harry. I can give you my theory in a few short words.
+You've studied physiology, haven't you? Well, that's where you can get
+your proof--or rather let me say my theory. What is the Blind Spot?”
+
+“In optics?”
+
+“We'll forgo that,” he answered. “I refer to this one.”
+
+I thought for a moment.
+
+“Well,” I said, “I don't know. It was something I couldn't see. Watson
+went out before our eyes. He was lost.”
+
+“Exactly. Do you get the point?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“It is this. What you see is merely energy. Your eye is merely a
+machine. It catches certain colours. Which in turn are merely rates of
+vibration. There is nothing to matter but force, Harry; if we could get
+down deep enough and know a few laws, we could transmute it.”
+
+“What has it to do with the occult?”
+
+“Merely a fact. The eye machine catches only certain vibration speeds of
+energy. There are undoubtedly any number of speeds; the eye cannot see
+them.”
+
+“Then this would account for the Blind Spot?”
+
+“Exactly. A localised spot, a condition, a combination of phenomena,
+anything entering it becomes invisible.”
+
+“Where does it go to?”
+
+“That's it. Where? It's one of the things that man has been guessing at
+down the ages. The professor is the first philosopher with sound sense.
+He went after it. It's a pity he was trapped.”
+
+“By the Rhamda?”
+
+“Undoubtedly.”
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+Hobart smiled.
+
+“How do I know? Where did he come from? If we knew that, we would know
+everything. 'A phantom,' so Watson says. If so, it only strengthens
+our theory. It would make a man and matter only a part of creation.
+Certainly it would clear up a lot of doubts.”
+
+“And the ring?”
+
+“It controls the Blind Spot.”
+
+“In what way?”
+
+“That's for us to find out.”
+
+“And Watson? He is in this land of doubt?”
+
+“At least he is in the Blind Spot. Let me try the ring.”
+
+He struck a match.
+
+It was much as it had been in the restaurant, only a bit more startling.
+Then the blue faded, the colour went out, and it became transparent. For
+a moment. There was an effect of space and distance that I had not noted
+before, almost marvellous. If I could describe it at all, I would say
+a crystal corridor of a vastness that can scarcely be imagined. It
+made one dizzy, even in that bit of jewel: one lost proportion, it was
+height, distance, space immeasurable. For an instant. Then the whole
+thing blurred and clouded. Something passed across the face; the
+transparency turned to opaqueness, and then--two men. It was as sudden
+as a flash--the materialisation. There was no question. They were alive.
+Watson was with the professor.
+
+It was a strange moment. Only an hour before one of them had been
+with us. It was Watson, beyond a doubt. He was alive; one could almost
+believe him in the jewel. We had heard his story: “The screen of the
+occult; the curtain of shadow.” We had seen him go. There was an element
+of horror in the thing, and of fascination. The great professor! The
+faithful Watson! Where had they gone?
+
+It was not until the colour had come back and the blue had regained its
+lustre that either of us looked up. Could such a thing be unravelled?
+Fenton turned the stone over thoughtfully. He shook his head.
+
+“In that jewel, Harry, lies the secret. I wish I knew a bit more about
+physics, light, force, energy, vibration. We have got to know.”
+
+“Your theory?”
+
+“It still holds good.”
+
+I thought.
+
+“Let me get it clear, Hobart. You say that we catch only certain
+vibrations.”
+
+“That's it. Our eyes are instruments, nothing else. We can see light,
+but we cannot hear it. We hear sound, but we cannot see it. Of course
+they are not exactly parallel. But it serves the point. Let's go a
+bit further. The eye picks up certain vibrations. Light is nothing but
+energy vibrating at a tremendous speed. It has to be just so high for
+the eye to pick it up. A great deal we do not get. For instance, we can
+only catch one-twelfth of the solar spectrum. Until recently we have
+believed only what we could see. Science has pulled us out of the rut.
+It may pull us through the Blind Spot.”
+
+“And beyond.”
+
+Hobart held up his hands.
+
+“It is almost too much to believe. We have made a discovery. We must
+watch our step. We must not lose. The work of Dr. Holcomb shall not go
+for nothing.”
+
+“And the ring?”
+
+He consulted his watch.
+
+“We have only a short time left. We must map our action. We have three
+things to work on--the ring, the house, Bertha Holcomb. It's all up to
+you, Harry. Find out all that is possible; but go slow. Trace down
+that ring; find out everything that you can. Go and see Bertha Holcomb.
+Perhaps she can give you some data. Watson said no; but perhaps you may
+uncover it. Take the ring to a lapidary; but don't let him cut it. Last
+of all, and most important, buy the house of the Blind Spot. Draw on me.
+Let me pay half, anyway.”
+
+“I shall move into it,” I answered.
+
+He hesitated a bit.
+
+“I am afraid of that,” he answered. “Well, if you wish. Only be careful.
+Remember I shall return just as soon as I can get loose. If you feel
+yourself slipping or anything happens, send me a cable.”
+
+The hours passed all too quickly. When day came we had our breakfast
+and hurried down to the pier. It was hard to have him go. His last words
+were like Hobart Fenton. He repeated the warning.
+
+“Watch your step, Harry; watch your step. Take things easy; be cautious.
+Get the house. Trace down the ring. Be sure of yourself. Keep me
+informed. If you need me, cable. I'll come if I have to swim.”
+
+His last words; and not a year ago. It seems now like a lifetime. As I
+stood upon the pier and watched the ship slipping into the water, I felt
+it coming upon me. It had grown steadily, a gloom and oppression not to
+be thwarted; it is silent and subtle and past defining--like shadow. The
+grey, heavy heave of the water; the great hull of the steamer backing
+into the bay; the gloom of the fog bank. A few uncertain lines, the
+shrill of the siren, the mist settling; I was alone. It was isolation.
+
+I had been warned by Watson. But I had not guessed. At the moment
+I sensed it. It was the beginning. Out of my heart I could feel
+it--solitude.
+
+In the great and populous city I was to be alone, in all its teeming
+life I was to be a stranger. It has been almost a year--a year! It has
+been a lifetime. A breaking down of life!
+
+I have waited and fought and sought to conquer. One cannot fight against
+shadow. It is merciless and inexorable. There are secrets that may be
+locked forever. It was my duty, my pledge to Watson, what I owed to the
+professor. I have hung on grimly; what the end will be I do not know. I
+have cabled for Fenton.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+A DEAL IN PROPERTY
+
+
+But to return. There was work that I should do--much work if I was going
+after the solution. In the first place, there was the house. I turned
+my back to the waterfront and entered the city. The streets were packed,
+the commerce of man jostled and threaded along the highways; there was
+life and action, hope, ambition. It was what I had loved so well. Yet
+now it was different.
+
+I realised it vaguely, and wondered. This feeling of aloofness? It was
+intrinsic, coming from within, like the withering of one's marrow. I
+laughed at my foreboding; it was not natural; I tried to shake myself
+together.
+
+I had no difficulty with the records. In less than an hour I traced out
+the owners, “an estate,” and had located the agent. It just so happened
+that he was a man with whom I had some acquaintance. We were not long in
+coming to business.
+
+“The house at No. 288 Chatterton Place?”
+
+I noticed that he was startled; there was a bit of wonder in his look--a
+quizzical alertness. He motioned me to a chair and closed the door.
+
+“Sit down, Mr. Wendel; sit down. H-m! The house at No. 288 Chatterton
+Place? Did I hear you right?”
+
+Again I noted the wonder; his manner was cautious and curious. I nodded.
+
+“Want to buy it or just lease it? Pardon me, but you are sort of a
+friend. I would not like to lose your friendship for the sake of a mere
+sale. What is your--”
+
+“Just for a residence,” I insisted. “A place to live in.”
+
+“I see. Know anything about this place?”
+
+“Do you?”
+
+He fumbled with some papers. For an agent he did not strike me as being
+very solicitous for a commission.
+
+“Well,” he said, “in a way, yes. A whole lot more than I'd like to. It
+all depends. One gets much from hearsay. What I know is mostly
+rumour.” He began marking with a pencil. “Of course I don't believe it.
+Nevertheless I would hardly recommend it to a friend as a residence.”
+
+“And these rumours?”
+
+He looked up; for a moment he studied; then:
+
+“Ever hear of the Blind Spot? Perhaps you remember Dr. Holcomb--in 1905,
+before the 'quake. It was a murder. The papers were full of it at the
+time; since then it has been occasionally featured in the supplements. I
+do not believe in the story; but I can trust to facts. The last seen of
+Dr. Holcomb was in this house. It is called the Blind Spot.”
+
+“Then you believe in the story?” I asked.
+
+He looked at me.
+
+“Oh, you know it, eh? No, I do not. It's all bunkum; reporters' work
+and exaggeration. If you like that kind of stuff, it's weird and
+interesting. But it hurts property. The man was undoubtedly murdered.
+The tale hangs over the house. It's impossible to dispose of the place.”
+
+“Then why not sell it to me?”
+
+He dropped his pencil; he was a bit nervous.
+
+“A fair question, Mr. Wendel--a very fair question. Well, now, why don't
+I? Perhaps I shall. There's no telling. But I'd rather not. Do you know,
+a year ago I would have jumped at an offer. Fact is, I did lease it--the
+lease ran out yesterday--to a man named Watson. I don't believe a thing
+in this nonsense; but what I have seen during the past year has tested
+my nerve considerably.”
+
+“What about Watson?”
+
+“Watson? A year ago he came to see me in regard to this Chatterton
+property. Wanted to lease it. Was interested in the case of Dr. Holcomb;
+asked for a year's rental and the privilege of renewal. I don't know. I
+gave it to him; but when he drops in again I am going to fight almighty
+hard against letting him hold it longer.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Why? Why, because I don't believe in murder. A year ago he came to
+me the healthiest and happiest man I ever saw; today he is a shadow. I
+watched that boy go down. Understand, I don't believe a damn word I'm
+saying; but I have seen it. It's that cursed house. I say no, when
+I reason; but it keeps on my nerves; it's on my conscience. It is
+insidious. Every month when he came here I could see disintegration.
+It's pitiful to see a young man stripped of life like that; forlorn,
+hopeless, gone. He has never told me what it is; but I have wondered. A
+battle; some conflict with--there I go again. It's on my nerves, I tell
+you, on my nerves. If this keeps up I'll burn it.”
+
+It was a bit foreboding. Already I could feel the tugging at my heart
+that had done for Watson. This man had watched my friend slipping into
+the shadow; I had come to take his place.
+
+“Watson has gone,” I said simply; “and that's why I am here.”
+
+He straightened up.
+
+“You know him then. He was not--”
+
+“He went last night; he has left the country. He was in very poor
+health. That's why I am here. I know very well the cloud that hangs over
+the property; it is my sole reason for purchasing.”
+
+“You don't believe in this nonsense?”
+
+I smiled. Certainly the man was perverse in his agnosticism; he was
+stubborn in disbelief. It was on his nerves; on his conscience; he was
+afraid.
+
+“I believe nothing,” I answered; “neither do I disbelieve. I know all
+the story that has been told or written. I am a friend of Watson. You
+need not scruple in making me out a bill of sale. It's my own funeral. I
+abide by the consequences.”
+
+He gave a sigh of relief. After all, he was human. He had honour; but
+it was after the brand of Pontius Pilate. He wished nothing on his
+conscience.
+
+Armed with the keys and the legal title, I took possession. In the
+daylight it was much as it had been the night before. Once across its
+threshold, one was in dank and furtive suppression; the air was heavy;
+a mould of age had streaked the walls and gloomed the shadows. I put up
+all the curtains to let in the rush of sunlight, likewise I opened the
+windows. If there is anything to beat down sin, it is the open measure
+of broad daylight.
+
+The house was well situated; from the front windows one could look down
+the street and out at the blue bay beyond the city. The fog had lifted
+and the sun was shining upon the water. I could make out the ferryboats,
+the islands, and the long piers that lead to Oakland, and still farther
+beyond the hills of Berkeley. It was a long time since those days in
+college. Under the shadow of those hills I had first met the old doctor.
+I was only a boy then.
+
+I turned into the building. Even the sound of my footsteps was foreign;
+the whole place was pregnant with stillness and shadow; life was gone
+out. It was fearful; I felt the terror clutching upon me, a grimness
+that may not be spoken; there was something breaking within me. I had
+pledged myself for a year. Frankly I was afraid.
+
+But I had given my word. I returned to my apartments and began that
+very day the closing down of my practice. In a fortnight I had completed
+everything and had moved my things to the room of Chick Watson.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+ALBERT JEROME
+
+
+Just as soon as possible I hurried over to Berkeley. I went straight to
+the bungalow on Dwight Way; I inquired for Miss Holcomb. She was a woman
+now in her late twenties, decidedly pretty, a blonde, and of intelligent
+bearing.
+
+Coming on such an errand, I was at a loss just how to approach her. I
+noted the little lines about the corners of her eyes, the sad droop of
+her pretty mouth. Plainly she was worried. As I was removing my hat she
+caught sight of the ring upon my finger.
+
+“Oh,” she said; “then you come from Mr. Watson. How is Chick?”
+
+“Mr. Watson”--I did not like lying, but I could not but feel for
+her; she had already lost her father--“Mr. Watson has gone on a trip
+up-country--with Jerome. He was not feeling well. He has left this ring
+with me. I have come for a bit of information.”
+
+She bit her lips; her mouth quivered.
+
+“Couldn't you get this from Mr. Watson? He knows about the stone. Didn't
+he tell you? How did it come into your possession? What has happened?”
+
+Her voice was querulous and suspicious. I had endeavoured to deceive her
+for her own sake; she had suffered enough already. I could not but wince
+at the pain in her eyes. She stood up.
+
+“Please, Mr. Wendel; don't be clumsy. Don't regard me as a mere baby.
+Tell me what has happened to Chick. Please--”
+
+She stopped in a flow of emotion. Tears came to her eyes; but she held
+control. She sat down.
+
+“Tell me all, Mr. Wendel. It is what I expected.” She blinked to hold
+back her tears. “It is my fault. You wouldn't have the ring had nothing
+happened. Tell me. I can be brave.”
+
+And brave she was--splendid. With the tug at my own heart I could
+understand her. What uncertainty and dread she must have been under! I
+had been in it but a few days; already I could feel the weight. At no
+time could I surmount the isolation; there was something going from
+me minute by minute. With the girl there could be no evasion; it were
+better that she have the truth. I made a clean breast of the whole
+affair.
+
+“And he told you no more about the ring?”
+
+“That is all,” I answered. “He would have told us much more,
+undoubtedly, had he not--”
+
+“You saw him go--you saw this thing?”
+
+“That is just it, Miss Holcomb. We saw nothing. One minute we were
+looking at Chick, and the next at nothing. Hobart understood it better
+than I. At least he forbade my crossing the room. There is a danger
+point, a spot that may not be crossed. He threw me back. It was then
+that the Rhamda came upon the scene.” She frowned slightly.
+
+“Tell me about the Nervina. When Chick spoke of her, I could always feel
+jealous. Is she beautiful?”
+
+“Most beautiful, the most wonderful girl I have ever seen, though I
+would hardly class her as one to be jealous of. But she wants the ring.
+I've promised Watson, and of course I shall keep it. But I would like
+its history.”
+
+“I think I can give you some information there,” she answered. “The
+ring, or rather the jewel, was given to father about twenty years ago by
+a Mr. Kennedy. He had been a pupil of father's when father taught at a
+local school. He came here often to talk over old times. Father had the
+jewel set in a ring; but he never wore it.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“How did Watson come to link it up with the Blind Spot?”
+
+“That, I think, was an accident. He was in college, you know, at the
+time of father's disappearance. In fact, he was in the Ethics class.
+He came here often, and during one of his visits I showed him the ring.
+That was several years ago.”
+
+“I see.”
+
+“Well, about a year ago he was here again, and asked to see the jewel.
+We were to be married, you understand; but I had always put it off
+because of father. Somehow I felt that he would return. It was in late
+summer, about September; it was in the evening; it was getting dark. I
+gave Chick the ring, and stepped into the garden to cut some flowers. I
+remember that Chick struck a match in the parlour. When I came back he
+seemed to be excited.”
+
+“Did he ask you for the ring?”
+
+“Yes. He wanted to wear it. And he suddenly began to talk of father. It
+was that night that he took it upon himself to find him.”
+
+“I see. Not before that night? Did he take the ring then?”
+
+“Yes. We went to the opera. I remember it well, because that night was
+the first time I ever knew Chick to be gloomy.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“Yes. You know how jolly he always was. When we returned that night he
+would scarcely say a word. I thought he was sick; but he said he was
+not; said he just felt that way.”
+
+“I understand. And he kept getting glummer? Did you suspect the jewel?
+Did he ever tell you anything?”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“No. He told me nothing, except that he would find father. Of course, I
+became excited and wanted to know. But he insisted that I couldn't help;
+that he had a clue, and that it might take time. From that night I saw
+very little of him. He leased the house on Chatterton Place. He seemed
+to lose interest in myself; when he did come over he would act queerly.
+He talked incoherently, and would often make rambling mention of a
+beautiful girl called Nervina. You say it is the ring? Tell me, Mr.
+Wendel, what is it? Has it really anything to do with father?”
+
+I nodded.
+
+“I think it has, Miss Holcomb. And I can understand poor Chick. He is a
+very brave man. It's a strange jewel and of terrible potency; that much
+I know. It devitalises; it destroys. I can feel it already. It covers
+life with a fog of decay. The same solitude has come upon myself.
+Nevertheless I am certain it has much to do with the Blind Spot. It is a
+key of some sort. The very interest of the Rhamda and the Nervina tells
+us that. I think it was through this stone that your father made his
+discovery.”
+
+She thought a moment.
+
+“Hadn't you better return it? While you still have health? If you keep
+it, it will be only one more.”
+
+“You forget, Miss Holcomb, my promise to Chick. I loved your father,
+and I was fond of Watson. It's a great secret and, if the professor is
+right, one which man has sought through the ages. I'd be a coward to
+forgo my duty. If I fail, I have another to take my place.”
+
+“Oh,” she said, “it's horrible. First father; then Chick; now you; and
+afterwards it will be Mr. Fenton.”
+
+“It is our duty,” I returned. “One by one. Though we may fail, each one
+of us may pass a bit more on to his successor. In the end we win. It is
+the way of man.”
+
+I had my way. She turned over all the data and notes that had been
+left by the professor; but I never found a thing in them that could be
+construed to an advantage. My real quest was to trace down the jewel.
+The man Kennedy's full name was, I learned, Budge Kennedy. He had lived
+in Oakland. It was late in the afternoon when I parted with Miss Holcomb
+and started for the city.
+
+I remember it well because of a little incident that occurred
+immediately after our parting. I was just going down the steps when I
+looked up one of the side streets. A few students were loitering here
+and there. But there was one who was not a student. I recognised him
+instantly, and I wondered. It was the Rhamda. This was enough to make
+me suspicious. But there was one thing more. Farther up the street was
+another figure.
+
+When I came down the steps the Rhamda moved, and his move was somehow
+duplicated by the other. In itself this was enough to clear up some of
+my doubts concerning the phantom. His actions were too simple for an
+apparition. Only a man would act like that, and a crude one. I didn't
+know then the nerve of the Rhamda. There was no doubt that I was being
+shadowed.
+
+To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious route
+to the station. There was no question; one and two they followed. I knew
+the Rhamda; but who was the other?
+
+At the station we purchased tickets, and when the train pulled in I
+boarded a smoker. The other two took another coach--the stranger was a
+thick-set individual with a stubby, grey moustache. On the boat I didn't
+see them; but at the ferry building I made a test to see that I was
+followed. I hailed a taxi and gave specific instructions to the driver.
+
+“Drive slowly,” I told him. “I think we shall be followed.”
+
+And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging our
+wheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerning the Rhamda; but I couldn't
+understand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and I
+alighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither stopped. Both
+disappeared round the corner. I took the numbers; then I went into the
+house. In about a half hour a car drew up at the curb. I stepped to
+the window. It was the car that had tracked the Rhamda's. The stubby
+individual stepped out; without ceremony he ran up the steps and opened
+the door. It was a bit disconcerting, I think, for both. He was plain
+and blunt--and honest.
+
+“Well,” he said, “where's Watson? Who are you? What do you want?”
+
+“That,” I answered, “is a question for both of us. Who are you, and what
+do you want? Where is Watson?”
+
+Just then his eyes dropped and his glance fell and eyes widened.
+
+“My name is Jerome,” he said simply. “Has something happened to Watson?
+Who are you?”
+
+We were standing in the library; I made an indication towards the other
+room. “In there,” I said. “My name is Wendel.”
+
+He took off his hat and ran the back of his hand across his forehead.
+
+“So that pair got him, too! I was afraid of them all the while. And I
+had to be away. Do you know how they did it? What's the working of their
+game? It's devilish and certainly clever. They played that boy for a
+year; they knew they would get him in the end. So did I.
+
+“He was a fine lad, a fine lad. I knew this morning when I came down
+from Nevada that they had him. Found your duds. A stranger. House looked
+queer. But I had hopes he might have gone over to see his girl. Just
+thought I'd wander over to Berkeley. Found that bird Rhamda under a palm
+tree watching the Holcomb bungalow. It was the first time I'd seen
+him since that day things went amiss with the professor. In about ten
+minutes you came out. I stayed with him while he tracked you back here;
+I followed him back down town and lost him. Tell me about Watson.”
+
+He sat down; during my recital he spoke not a word. He consumed one
+cigar after another; when I stopped for a moment he merely nodded his
+head and waited until I continued. He was sturdy and frank, of an iron
+way and vast common sense. I liked him. When I had finished he remained
+silent; his grief was of a solid kind! he had liked poor Watson.
+
+“I see,” he said. “It is as I thought. He told you more than he ever
+told me.”
+
+“He never told you?”
+
+“Not much. He was a strange lad--about the loneliest one I've ever seen.
+There was something about him from the very first that was not natural;
+I couldn't make him out. You say it is the ring. He always wore it.
+I laid it to this Rhamda. He was always meeting him. I could never
+understand it. Try as I would, I could not get a trace of the phantom.”
+
+“The phantom?”
+
+“Most assuredly. Would you call him human?” His grey eyes were flecked
+with light. “Come now, Mr. Wendel, would you?”
+
+“Well,” I answered, “I don't know. Not after what I have seen. But for
+all that, I have proof of his sinews. I am inclined to blend the
+two. There is a law somewhere, a very natural one. The Blind Spot is
+undoubtedly a combination of phenomena; it has a control. We do not know
+what it is, or where it leads to; neither do we know the motive of the
+Rhamda. Who is he? If we knew that, we would know everything.”
+
+“And this ring?”
+
+“I shall wear it.”
+
+“Then God help you. I watched Watson. It's plain poison. You have a
+year; but you had better count on half a year; the first six months
+aren't so bad; but the last--it takes a man! Wendel, it takes a man!
+Already you're eating your heart out. Oh, I know--you have opened the
+windows; you want sunshine and air. In six months I shall have to fight
+to get one open. It gets into the soul; it is stagnation; you die by
+inches. Better give me the ring.”
+
+“This Budge Kennedy,” I evaded, “we must find him. We have time. One
+clue may lead us on. Tell me what you know of the Blind Spot.”
+
+“Very easy,” he answered; “you have it all. I have been here a number of
+years. You will remember I fell into the case through intuition. I never
+had any definite proof, outside the professor's disappearance, the
+old lady, and that bell; unless perhaps it is the Rhamda. But from the
+beginning I've been positive.
+
+“Taking that lecture in ethics as a starter, I built up my theory.
+All the clues lead to this building. It's something that I cannot
+understand. It's out of the occult. It's a bit too much for me. I moved
+into the place and waited. I've never forgotten that bell, nor that old
+lady. You and Fenton are the only ones who have seen the Blind Spot.”
+
+I had a sudden thought.
+
+“The Rhamda! I have read that he has the manner of inherent goodness. Is
+it true? You have conversed with him. I haven't.”
+
+“He has. He didn't strike me as a villain. He's intrinsic, noble, out of
+self. I have often wondered.”
+
+I smiled. “Perhaps we are thinking the same thing. Is this it? The Blind
+Spot is a secret that man may not attain to. It is unknowable and akin
+to death. The Rhamda knows it. He couldn't head off the professor. He
+simply employed Dr. Holcomb's wisdom to trap him; now that he has him
+secure, he intends to hold him. It is for our own good.”
+
+“Exactly. Yet--”
+
+“Yet?”
+
+“He was very anxious to put you and Fenton into this very Spot.”
+
+“That is so. But may it not be that we, too, knew a bit too much?”
+
+He couldn't answer that.
+
+Nevertheless, we were both of us convinced concerning the Rhamda. It was
+merely a digression of thought, a conjecture. He might be good; but we
+were both positive of his villainy. It was his motive, of course,
+that weighed up his character; could we find that, we would uncover
+everything.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+A NEW ELEMENT
+
+
+Budge Kennedy was not so easily found. There were many Kennedys. About
+two-thirds of Ireland had apparently migrated to San Francisco under
+that name and had lodged in the directory. We went through the lists on
+both sides of the bay, but found nothing; the old directories had mostly
+been destroyed by fire or had been thrown away as worthless; but at last
+we unearthed one. In it we found the name of Budge Kennedy.
+
+He had two sons--Patrick and Henry. One of these, Henry, we ran down in
+the Mission. He was a great, red-headed, broad-shouldered Irishman. He
+was just eating supper when we called; there were splotches of white
+plaster on his trousers.
+
+I came right to the point: “Do you know anything about this?” I held out
+the ring.
+
+He took it in his fingers; his eyes popped. “What, that! Well, I guess
+I do! Where'd you get it?” He called out to the kitchen: “Say, Mollie,
+come here. Here's the old man's jool!” He looked at me a bit fearfully.
+“You aren't wearing it?”
+
+“Why not?” I asked.
+
+“Why? Well, I don't know exactly. I wouldn't wear it for a million
+dollars. It ain't a jool; it's a piece of the divil. The old man gave
+it to Dr. Holcomb--or sold it, I don't know which. He carried it in his
+pocket once, and he came near dying.”
+
+“Unlucky?” I asked.
+
+“No, it ain't unlucky; it just rips your heart out. It would make you
+hate your grandmother. Lonesome! Lonesome! I've often heard the old man
+talking.”
+
+“He sold it to Dr. Holcomb? Do you know why?”
+
+“Well, yes. 'Twas that the old doc had some scientific work. Dad told
+him about his jool. One day he took it over to Berkeley. It was some
+kind of thing that the professor just wanted. He kept it. Dad made him
+promise not to wear it.”
+
+“I see. Did your father ever tell you where he got it?”
+
+“Oh, yes. He often spoke about that. The old man wasn't a plasterer,
+you know--just a labourer. He was digging a basement. It was a funny
+basement--a sort of blind cellar. There was a stone wall right across
+the middle, and then there was a door of wood to look like stone. You
+can go down into the back cellar, but not into the front. If you don't
+know about the door, you'll never find it. Dad often spoke about that.
+He was working in the back cellar when he found this. 'Twas sticking in
+some blue clay.”
+
+“Where was this place? Do you remember?”
+
+“Sure. 'Twas in Chatterton Place. Pat and I was kids then; we took the
+old man's dinner.”
+
+“Do you know the number?”
+
+“It didn't have no number; but I know the place. 'Tis a two-story house,
+and was built in 'ninety-one.”
+
+I nodded. “And afterwards you moved to Oakland?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Did your father ever speak of the reason for this partition in the
+cellar?”
+
+“He never knew of one. It was none of his business. He was merely a
+labourer, and did what he was paid for.”
+
+“Do you know who built it?”
+
+“Some old guy. He was a cranky cuss with side-whiskers. He used to wear
+a stove-pipe hat. I think he was a chemist. Whenever he showed up he
+would run us kids out of the building. I think he was a bachelor.”
+
+This was all the information he could give, but it was a great deal.
+Certainly it was more than I had hoped for. The house had been built
+by a chemist; even in the construction there was mystery. I had never
+thought of a second cellar; when I had explored the building I had taken
+the stone wall for granted. It was so with Jerome. It was the first
+definite clue that really brought us down to earth. What had this
+chemist to do with the phenomena?
+
+After all, behind everything was lurking the mind of man.
+
+We hastened back to the house and into the cellar. By merely sounding
+along the wall we discovered the door; it was cleverly constructed and
+for a time defied our efforts; but Jerome got it open by means of a
+jemmy and a pick. The outside was a clever piece of sham work shaped
+like stone and smeared over with cement. In the dim light we had missed
+it.
+
+We had high expectations. But we were disappointed. The space contained
+nothing; it was smeared with cobwebs and hairy mould; but outside of a
+few empty bottles and the gloomy darkness there was nothing. We tapped
+the walls and floor and ceiling. Beyond all doubt the place once held
+a secret; if it held it still, it was cleverly hidden. After an hour or
+two of search we returned to the upper part of the building.
+
+Jerome was not discouraged.
+
+“We're on the right track, Mr. Wendel; if we can only get started.
+I have an idea. The chemist--it was in 'ninety-one--that's more than
+twenty years.”
+
+“What is your idea?”
+
+“The Rhamda. What is the first thing that strikes you? His age. With
+everyone that sees him it's the same. At first you take him for an old
+man; if you study him long enough, you are positive that he is in his
+twenties. May he not be this chemist?”
+
+“What becomes of the doctor and his Blind Spot?”
+
+“The Blind Spot,” answered Jerome, “is merely a part of the chemistry.”
+
+Next day I hunted up a jeweller. I was careful to choose one with whom I
+was acquainted. I asked for a private consultation. When we were alone I
+took the ring from my finger.
+
+“Just an opinion,” I asked. “You know gems. Can you tell me anything
+about this one?”
+
+He picked it up casually, and turned it over; his mouth puckered. For a
+minute he studied.
+
+“That? Well, now.” He held it up. “Humph. Wait a minute.”
+
+“Is it a gem?”
+
+“I think it is. At first I thought I knew it right off; but now--wait a
+minute.”
+
+He reached in the drawer for his glass. He held the stone up for some
+minutes. His face was a study; queer little wrinkles twisting from the
+corners of his eyes told his wonder. He did not speak; merely turned
+the stone round and round. At last he removed his glass and held up the
+ring. He was quizzical.
+
+“Where did you get this?” he asked.
+
+“That is something I do not care to answer. I wish to know what it is.
+Is it a gem? If so, what kind?”
+
+He thought a moment and shook his head.
+
+“I thought I knew every gem on earth. But I don't. This is a new one.
+It is beautiful--just a moment.” He stepped to the door. In a moment
+another man stepped in. The jeweller motioned towards the ring. The man
+picked it up and again came the examination. At last he laid the glass
+and ring both upon the table.
+
+“What do you make of it, Henry?” asked the jeweller.
+
+“Not me,” answered the second one. “I never saw one like it.”
+
+It was as Watson had said. No man had ever identified the jewel. The two
+men were puzzled; they were interested. The jeweller turned to me.
+
+“Would you care to leave it with us for a bit; you have no objection to
+us taking it out of the ring?”
+
+I had not thought of that. I had business down the street. I consulted
+my watch.
+
+“In half an hour I shall be back. Will that be enough time?”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+It was an hour before I returned. The assistant was standing at the door
+of the office. He spoke something to the one inside and then made an
+indication to myself. He seemed excited; when I came closer I noted that
+his face was full of wonder.
+
+“We've been waiting,” said he. “We didn't examine the stone; it wasn't
+necessary. It is truly wonderful.” He was a short, squat man with a
+massive forehead. “Just step inside.”
+
+Inside the office the jeweller was sitting beside a table; he was
+leaning back in his chair; he had his hands clasped over his stomach. He
+was gazing toward the ceiling; his face was a study, full of wonder and
+speculation.
+
+“Well?” I asked.
+
+For an answer he merely raised his finger, pointed towards the ceiling.
+
+“Up there,” he spoke. “Your jewel or whatever it is. A good thing we
+weren't in open air. 'Twould be going yet.”
+
+I looked up. Sure enough, against the ceiling was the gem. It was a bit
+disconcerting, though I will confess that in the first moment I did not
+catch the full significance.
+
+The jeweller closed one eye and studied first myself and then the
+beautiful thing against the ceiling.
+
+“What do you make of it?” he asked.
+
+Really I had not made anything; it was a bit of a shock; I hadn't
+grasped the full impossibility. I didn't answer.
+
+“Don't you see, Mr. Wendel? Impossible! Contrary to nature! Lighter than
+air. We took it out of the ring and it shot out like a bullet. Thought
+I'd dropped it. Began looking on the floor. Couldn't find it; looked up
+and saw Reynolds, here, with his eyes popping out like marbles. He was
+looking at the ceiling.”
+
+I thought for a moment.
+
+“Then it is not a gem?”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. “Not if I'm a jeweller. Whoever heard of a
+stone without weight? It has no gravity, that is, apparently. I doubt
+whether it is a substance. I don't know what it is.”
+
+It was puzzling. I would have given a good deal just then for a few
+words with Dr. Holcomb. The man, Kennedy, had kept it in his pocket.
+How had he held it a prisoner? The professor had use for it in some
+scientific work! No wonder! Certainly it was not a jewel. What could it
+be? It was solid. It was lighter than air. Could it be a substance? If
+not; what is it?
+
+“What would you advise?”
+
+In answer the jeweller reached for the telephone. He gave a number.
+
+“Hello. Say, is Ed there? This is Phil. Tell him to step to the phone.
+Hello! Say, Ed, I want you to come over on the jump. Something to show
+you. Too busy! No, you're not. Not for this. I'm going to teach you some
+chemistry. No; this is serious. What is it? I don't know. What's lighter
+than air? Lots of things? Oh, I know. But what solid? That's why I'm
+asking. Come over. All right. At once.”
+
+He hung up the receiver.
+
+“My brother,” he spoke. “It has passed beyond my province and into his.
+He is a chemist. As an expert he may give you a real opinion.”
+
+Surely we needed one. It was against reason. It had taken me
+completely off my balance. I took a chair and joined the others in the
+contemplation of the blue dot on the ceiling. We could speculate and
+conjecture; but there was not one of us deep enough even to start a
+theory. Plainly it was what should not be. We had been taught physics
+and science; we had been drilled to fundamentals. If this thing could
+be, then the foundations upon which we stood were shattered. But one
+little law! Back in my mind was buzzing the enigma of the Blind Spot.
+They were woven together. Some law that had eluded the ken of mankind.
+
+The chemist was a tall man with a hook nose and black eyes that clinched
+like rivets. He was a bit impatient. He looked keenly at his brother.
+
+“Well, Phil, what is it?” He pulled out a watch, “I haven't much time.”
+
+There was a contrast between them. The jeweller was fat and complacent.
+He merely sat in his chair, his hand on his waistband and a stubby
+finger elevated toward the jewel. He seemed to enjoy it.
+
+“You're a chemist, Ed. Here's a test for your wisdom. Can you explain
+that? No, over here. Above your head. That jewel?”
+
+The other looked up.
+
+“What's the idea? New notion for decoration? Or”?--a bit testily--“is
+this a joke?” He was a serious man; his black eyes and the nose spoke
+his character.
+
+The jeweller laughed gently.
+
+“Listen, Ed--” Then he went into explanation; when he was through the
+chemist was twitching with excitement.
+
+“Get me a ladder. Here, let me get on the table; perhaps I can reach
+it. Sounds impossible, but if it's so, it's so; it must have an
+explanation.”
+
+Without ado and in spite of the protests of his brother he stepped upon
+the polished surface of the table. He was a tall man; he could just
+barely reach it with the tip of his finger. He could move it; but each
+time it clung as to a magnet. After a minute of effort he gave it up.
+When he looked down he was a different man; his black eyes glowed with
+wonder.
+
+“Can't make it,” he said. “Get a step-ladder. Strange!”
+
+With the ladder it was easy. He plucked it off the ceiling. We pressed
+about the table. The chemist turned it about with his fingers.
+
+“I wonder,” he was saying. “It's a gem. Apparently. You say it has no
+gravity. It can't be. Whoop!” He let it slip out of his fingers. Again
+it popped on its way to the ceiling. He caught it with a deft movement
+of his hand. “The devil! Did you ever see! And a solid! Who owns this?”
+
+That brought it back to me. I explained what I could of the manner of my
+possession.
+
+“I see. Very interesting. Something I've never
+seen--and--frankly--something strictly against what I've been taught.
+Nevertheless, it's not impossible. We are witnesses at least. Would you
+care if I take this over to the laboratory?”
+
+It was a new complication. If it were not a jewel there was a chance of
+its being damaged. I was as anxious as he; but I had been warned as to
+its possession.
+
+“I shan't harm it. I'll see to that. I have suspicions and I'd like to
+verify them. A chemist doesn't blunder across such a thing every day. I
+am a chemist.” His eyes glistened.
+
+“Your suspicions?” I asked.
+
+“A new element.”
+
+This gem. A new element. Perhaps that would explain the Blind Spot. It
+was not exactly of earth. Everything had confirmed it.
+
+“You--A new element? How do you account for it? It defies your laws.
+Most of your elements are evolved through tedious process. This is
+picked up by chance.”
+
+“That is so. But there are still a thousand ways. A meteor, perhaps; a
+bit of cosmic dust--there are many shattered comets. Our chemistry
+is earthly. There are undoubtedly new elements that we don't know of.
+Perhaps in enormous proportion.”
+
+I let him have it. It was the only night I had been away from the ring.
+I may say that it is the only time I have been free from its isolation.
+
+When I called at his office next day I found he had merely confirmed his
+suspicions. It defied analysis; there was no reaction. Under all tests
+it was a stranger. The whole science that had been built up to explain
+everything had here explained nothing. However there was one thing that
+he had uncovered--heat. Perhaps I should say magnetism. It was cold to
+man. I have spoken about the icy blue of its colour. It was cold even to
+look at. The chemist placed it in my hand.
+
+“Is it not so?”
+
+It was. The minute it touched my palm I could sense the weird horror of
+the isolation; the stone was cold. Just like a piece of ice.
+
+This was the first time I had ever had it in direct contact with the
+flesh. Set in the ring its impulse had always been secondary.
+
+“You notice it? It is so with me. Now then. Just a minute.”
+
+He pressed a button. A young lady answered his ring; she glanced first
+at myself and then at the chemist.
+
+“Miss Mills, this is Mr. Wendel. He is the owner of the gem. Would you
+take it in your hand? And please tell Mr. Wendel how it feels--”
+
+She laughed; she was a bit perplexed.
+
+“I don't understand”--she turned to me--“we had the same dispute
+yesterday. See, Mr. White says that it's cold; but it is not. It is
+warm; almost burning. All the other girls think just as I do.”
+
+“And all the men as I do,” averred the chemist, “even Mr. Wendel.”
+
+“Is it cold to you?” she asked. “Really--”
+
+It was a turn I hadn't looked for. It was akin to life--this relation to
+sex. Could it account for the strange isolation and the weariness? I was
+a witness to its potency. Watson! I could feel myself dragging under. I
+had just one question:
+
+“Tell me, Miss Mills. Can you sense anything else; I mean beyond its
+temperature?”
+
+She smiled a bit. “I don't know what you mean exactly. It is a beautiful
+stone. I would like to have it.”
+
+“You think its possession would make you happy?”
+
+Her eyes sparkled.
+
+“Oh,” she exclaimed. “I know it would! I can feel it!”
+
+It was so. Whatever there was in the bit of sapphirine blue, it had
+life. What was it? It had relation to sex. In the strict line of fact it
+was impossible.
+
+When we were alone again I turned to the chemist.
+
+“Is there anything more you uncovered? Did you see anything in the
+stone?”
+
+He frowned. “No. Nothing else. This magnetism is the only thing. Is
+there anything more?”
+
+Now I hadn't said anything about its one great quality. He hadn't
+stumbled across the image of the two men. I couldn't understand it. I
+didn't tell him. Perhaps I was wrong. Down inside me I sensed a subtle
+reason for secrecy. It is hard to explain. It was not perverseness; it
+was a finer distinction; perhaps it was the influence of the gem. I took
+it back to the jeweller again and had it reset.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+AGAIN THE NERVINA
+
+
+It was at this point that I began taking notes. There is something
+psychological to the Blind Spot, weird and touching on the spirit. I
+know not what it is; but I can feel it. It impinges on to life. I can
+sense the ecstasy of horror. I am not afraid. Whatever it is that is
+dragging me down, it is not evil. My sensations are not normal.
+
+For the benefit of my successor, if there is to be one, I have made an
+elaborate detail of notes and comments. After all, the whole thing,
+when brought down to the end, must fall to the function of science.
+When Hobart arrives, whatever my fate, he will find a complete and
+comprehensive record of my sensations. I shall keep it up to the end.
+Such notes being dry and sometimes confusing I have purposely omitted
+them from this narrative. But there are some things that must be
+given to the world. I shall pick out the salient parts and give them
+chronologically.
+
+Jerome stayed with me. Rather I should say he spent the nights with me.
+Most of the time he was on the elusive trail of the Rhamda. From the
+minute of our conversation with Kennedy he held to one conviction. He
+was positive of that chemist back in the nineties. He was certain of
+the Rhamda. Whatever the weirdness of his theory it would certainly bear
+investigation. When he was not on the trail over the city he was at work
+in the cellar. Here we worked together.
+
+We dug up the concrete floor and did a bit of mining. I was interested
+in the formation.
+
+From the words of Budge Kennedy the bit of jewel had been discovered at
+the original excavation. We found the blue clay that he spoke of, but
+nothing else. Jerome dissected every bit of earth carefully. We have
+spent many hours in that cellar.
+
+But most of the time I was alone. When not too worn with the loneliness
+and weariness I worked at my notes. It has been a hard task from the
+beginning. Inertia, lack of energy! How much of our life is impulse!
+What is the secret that backs volition? It has been will--will-power
+from the beginning. I must thank my ancestors. Without the strength and
+character built up through generations, I would have succumbed utterly.
+
+Even as it is I sometimes think I am wrong in following the dictates of
+Watson. If I were only sure. I have pledged my word and my honour. What
+did he know? I need all the reserve of character to hold up against
+the Nervina. From the beginning she has been my opponent. What is her
+interest in the Blind Spot and myself? Who is she? I cannot think of
+her as evil. She is too beautiful, too tender; her concern is so real.
+Sometimes I think of her as my protector, that it is she, and she alone
+who holds back the power which would engulf me. Once she made a personal
+appeal.
+
+Jerome had gone. I was alone. I had dragged myself to the desk and my
+notes and data. It was along toward spring and in the first shadows of
+the early evening. I had turned on the lights. It was the first labour
+I had done for several days. I had a great deal of work before me. I
+had begun sometime before to take down my temperature. I was careful of
+everything now, as much as I could be under the depression. So far I had
+discerned nothing that could be classed as pathological.
+
+There is something subtle about the Nervina. She is much like the
+Rhamda. Perhaps they are the same. I hear no sound, I have no notion of
+a door or entrance. Watson had said of the Rhamda, “Sometimes you see
+him, sometimes you don't.” It is so with the Nervina. I remember only
+my working at the data and the sudden movement of a hand upon my desk--a
+girl's hand. It was bewildering. I looked up.
+
+I had not seen her since that night. It was now eight months--did I not
+know, I would have recorded them as years. Her expression was a bit more
+sad--and beautiful. The same wonderful glow of her eyes, night-black and
+tender; the softness that comes from passion, and love, and virtue. The
+same wistful droop of the perfect mouth. What a wondrous mass of hair
+she had! I dropped my pen. She took my hand. I could sense the thrill of
+contact; cool and magnetic.
+
+“Harry!”
+
+She said no more; I did not answer; I was too taken by surprise and
+wonder. I could feel her concern as I would a mother's. What was her
+interest in myself? The contact of her hand sent a strange pulse through
+my vitals; she was so beautiful. Could it be? Watson said he loved her.
+Could I blame him?
+
+“Harry,” she asked, “how long is it to continue?”
+
+So that was it. Merely an envoy to accept surrender. I was worn utterly,
+weary of the world, lonely. But I hadn't given up. I had strength still,
+and will enough to hold out to the end. Perhaps I was wrong. If I gave
+her the ring? what then?
+
+“I am afraid,” I answered, “that I must go on. I have given my word. It
+has been much harder than I expected. This jewel? What has it to do with
+the Blind Spot?”
+
+“It controls it.”
+
+“Does the Rhamda desire it?”
+
+“He does.”
+
+“Why doesn't he call for it personally? Why doesn't he make a clean
+breast of it? It would be much easier. He knows and you know that I am
+after Dr. Holcomb and Watson. I might even forego the secret. Would he
+release the doctor?”
+
+“No, Harry, he would not.”
+
+“I see. If I gave up the ring it would be merely for my personal safety.
+I am a coward--”
+
+“Oh,” she said, “don't say that. You must give the ring to me--not to
+the Rhamda. He must not control the Blind Spot.”
+
+“What is the Blind Spot? Tell me.”
+
+“Harry,” she spoke, “I cannot. It is not for you or any other mortal. It
+is a secret that should never have been uncovered. It might be the end.
+In the hands of the Rhamda it would certainly be the end of mankind.”
+
+“Who is the Rhamda? Who are you? You are too beautiful to be merely
+woman. Are you a spirit?”
+
+She pressed my hand ever so slightly. “Do I feel like a spirit? I am
+material as much as you are. We live, see--everything.”
+
+“But you are not of this world?”
+
+Her eyes grew sadder; a soft longing.
+
+“Not exactly, Harry, not exactly. It is a long story and a very strange
+one. I may not tell you. It is for your own good. I am your friend”--her
+eyes were moist--“I--don't you see? Oh, I would save you!”
+
+I did not doubt it. Somehow she was like a girl of dreams, pure as an
+angel; her wistfulness only deepened her beauty. It came like a shock
+at the moment. I could love this woman. She was--what was I thinking?
+My guilty mind ran back to Charlotte. I had loved her since boyhood. I
+would be a coward--then a wild fear. Perhaps of jealousy.
+
+“The Rhamda? Is he your husband? You are the same--”
+
+“Oh,” she answered, “why do you say it?” Her eyes snapped and she grew
+rigid. “The Rhamda! My husband! If you only knew. I hate him! We are
+enemies. It was he who opened the Blind Spot. I am here because he is
+evil. To watch him. I love your world, I love it all. I would save it. I
+love--”
+
+She dropped her head. Whatever she was, she was not above sobbing.
+
+I touched her hair; it was of the softest texture I have ever seen;
+the lustre was like all the beauty of night woven into silk. She loved,
+loved; I could love--I was on the point of surrender.
+
+“Tell me,” I asked, “just one thing more. If I gave you this ring would
+you save the doctor and Chick Watson?”
+
+She raised her head; her eyes glistened; but she did not answer.
+
+“Would you?”
+
+She shook her head. “I cannot,” she answered. “That cannot be. I can
+only save you for--for--Charlotte.”
+
+Was it vanity in myself? I don't know. It seemed to me that it was hard
+for her to say it. Frankly, I loved her. I knew it. I loved Charlotte. I
+loved them both. But I held to my purpose.
+
+“Are the professor and Watson living?”
+
+“They are.”
+
+“Are they conscious?”
+
+She nodded. “Harry,” she said, “I can tell you that. They are living and
+conscious. You have seen them. They have only one enemy--the Rhamda.
+But they must never come out of the Blind Spot. I am their friend and
+yours.”
+
+A sudden courage came upon me. I remembered my word to Watson. I had
+loved the old professor. I would save them. If necessary I would follow
+to the end. Either myself or Fenton. One of us would solve it!
+
+“I shall keep the ring,” I said. “I shall avenge them. Somehow,
+somewhere, I feel that I shall do it. Even if I must follow--”
+
+She straightened at that. Her eyes were frightened.
+
+“Oh,” she said, “why do you say it? It must not be! You would perish!
+You shall not do it! I must save you. You must not go alone. Three--it
+may not be. If you go, I go with you. Perhaps--oh, Harry!”
+
+She dropped her head again; her body shook with her sobbing; plainly
+she was a girl. No real man is ever himself in the presence of a woman's
+tears. I was again on the point of surrender. Suddenly she looked up.
+
+“Harry,” she spoke sadly, “I have just one thing to ask. You must see
+Charlotte. You must forget me; we can never--you love Charlotte. I have
+seen her; she's a beautiful girl. You haven't written. She is worried.
+Remember what you mean to her happiness. Will you go?”
+
+That I could promise.
+
+“Yes, I shall see Charlotte.”
+
+She rose from her chair. I held her hand. Again, as in the restaurant, I
+lifted it to my lips. She flushed and drew it away. She bit her lip. Her
+beauty was a kind I could not understand.
+
+“You must see Charlotte,” she said, “and you must do as she says.”
+
+With that she was gone. There was a car waiting; the last I saw was its
+winking tail-light dimming into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+CHARLOTTE
+
+
+Left alone, I began thinking of Charlotte. I loved her; of that I was
+certain. I could not compare her with the Nervina. She was like myself,
+human. I had known her since boyhood. The other was out of the ether; my
+love for her was something different; she was of dreams and moonbeams;
+there was a film about her beauty, illusion; she was of spirit.
+
+I wrote a note to the detective and left it upon my desk. After that I
+packed a suitcase and hurried to the station. If I was going I would do
+it at once, I could not trust myself too far. This visit had been like
+a breath of air; for the moment I was away from the isolation. The
+loneliness and the weariness! How I dreaded it! I was only free from
+it for a few moments. On the train it came back upon me and in a manner
+that was startling.
+
+I had purchased my ticket. When the conductor came through he passed me.
+He gathered tickets all about me; but he did not notice me. At first I
+paid no attention; but when he had gone through the car several times I
+held up my ticket. He did not stop. It was not until I had touched him
+that he gave me a bit of attention.
+
+“Where have you been sitting?” he asked.
+
+I pointed to the seat. He frowned slightly.
+
+“There?” he asked. “Did you say you were sitting in that seat? Where did
+you get on?”
+
+“At Townsend.”
+
+“Queer,” he answered; he punched the ticket. “Queer. I passed that seat
+several times. It was empty!”
+
+Empty! It was almost a shock. Could it be that my isolation was becoming
+physical as well as mental? What was this gulf that was widening between
+myself and my fellows?
+
+It was the beginning of another phase. I have noticed it many times; on
+the street, in public places, everywhere. I thread in and out among men.
+Sometimes they see me, sometimes they don't. It is strange. I feel at
+times as though I might be vanishing out of the world!
+
+It was late when I reached my old home; but the lights were still
+burning. My favourite dog, Queen, was on the veranda. As I came up the
+steps she growled slightly, but on recognition went into a series of
+circles about the porch. My father opened the door. I stepped inside. He
+touched me on the shoulder, his jaw dropped.
+
+“Harry!” he exclaimed.
+
+Was it as bad as that? How much meaning may be placed in a single
+intonation! I was weary to the point of exhaustion. The ride upon the
+train had been too much.
+
+My mother came in. For some moments I was busy protesting my health.
+But it was useless; it wasn't until I had partaken of a few of the old
+nostrums that I could placate her.
+
+“Work, work, work, my boy,” said my father, “nothing but work. It
+really won't do. You're a shadow. You must take a vacation. Go to the
+mountains; forget your practice for a short time.”
+
+I didn't tell them. Why should I? I decided right then it was my own
+battle. It was enough for me without casting the worry upon others. Yet
+I could not see Charlotte without calling on my parents.
+
+As soon as possible I crossed the street to the Fentons'. Someone had
+seen me in town. Charlotte was waiting. She was the same beautiful girl
+I had known so long; the blue eyes, the blonde, wavy mass of hair, the
+laughing mouth and the gladness. But she was not glad now. It was
+almost a repetition of what had happened at home, only here a bit more
+personal. She clung to me almost in terror. I didn't realise I had gone
+down so much. I knew my weariness; but I hadn't thought my appearance
+so dejected. I remembered Watson. He had been wan, pale, forlorn.
+After what brief explanation I could give, I proposed a stroll in the
+moonlight.
+
+It was a full moon; a wonderful night; we walked down the avenue under
+the elm trees. Charlotte was beautiful, and worried; she clung to my
+arm with the eagerness of possession. I could not but compare her
+with Nervina. There was a contrast; Charlotte was fresh, tender,
+affectionate, the girl of my boyhood. I had known her all my life; there
+was no doubt of our love.
+
+Who was the other? She was something higher, out of mystery, out of
+life--almost--out of the moonbeams. I stopped and looked up. The great
+full orb was shining. I didn't know that I spoke.
+
+“Harry,” asked Charlotte, “who is the Nervina?”
+
+Had I spoken?
+
+“What do you know about the Nervina?” I asked.
+
+“She has been to see me. She told me. She said you would be here
+tonight. I was waiting. She is very beautiful. I never saw anyone like
+her. She is wonderful!”
+
+“What did she say?”
+
+“She! Oh, Harry. Tell me. I have waited. Something has happened. Tell
+me. You have told me nothing. You are not like the old Harry.”
+
+“Tell me about the Nervina. What did she say? Charlotte, tell me
+everything. Am I so much different from the old Harry?”
+
+She clutched at my arm fearfully; she looked into my eyes.
+
+“Oh,” she said, “how can you say it? You haven't laughed once. You are
+melancholy; you are pale, drawn, haggard. You keep muttering. You are
+not the old Harry. Is it this Nervina? At first I thought she loved you;
+but she does not. She wanted to know all about you, and about our love.
+She was so interested. What is this danger?”
+
+I didn't answer.
+
+“You must tell me. This ring? She said that you must give it to me. What
+is it?” she insisted.
+
+“Did she ask that? She told you to take the ring? My dear,” I asked, “if
+it were the ring and it were so sinister would I be a man to give it to
+my loved one?”
+
+“It would not hurt me.”
+
+But I would not. Something warned me. It was a ruse to get it out of my
+possession. The whole thing was haunting, weird, ghostly. Always I could
+hear Watson. I still had a small quota of courage and will-power. I
+clung steadfastly to my purpose.
+
+It was a sad three hours. Poor Charlotte! I shall never forget it. It is
+the hardest task on earth to deny one's loved one.
+
+She had grown into my heart and into its possession. She clung to me
+tenderly, tearfully. I could not tell her. Her feminine instinct sensed
+disaster. In spite of her tears I insisted. When I kissed her goodnight
+she did not speak. But she looked up at me through her tears. It was the
+hardest thing of all for me to bear.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE SHEPHERD
+
+
+When I returned to the city next morning I took my dog. It was a strange
+whim; but one which was to lead to a remarkable development. I have
+always been a lover of dogs. I was lonely. There is a bond between a dog
+and his master. It goes beyond definition; it roots down into nature. I
+was to learn much.
+
+She was an Australian shepherd. She was of a tawny black and bob-tailed
+from birth.
+
+What is the power that lies behind instinct? How far does it go? I had
+a notion that the dog would be outside the sinister clutch that was
+dragging me under.
+
+Happily Jerome was fond of dogs. He was reading. When I entered with
+Queen tugging at the chain he looked up. The dog recognised the heart
+of the man; when he stooped to pet her she moved her stub tail in an
+effusion of affectionate acceptance. Jerome had been reading Le Bon's
+theory on the evolution of force. His researches after the mystery had
+led him into the depths of speculation; he had become quite a scholar.
+After our first greeting I unhooked the chain and let Queen have the
+freedom of the house. I related what had happened. The detective closed
+the book and sat down. The dog waited a bit for further petting; but
+missing that she began sniffing about the room. There was nothing
+strange about it of course. I myself paid not the slightest attention.
+But the detective was watching. While I was telling my story he was
+following every movement of the shepherd. Suddenly he held up one
+finger. I turned.
+
+It was Queen. A low growl, guttural and suspicious. She was standing
+about a foot from the portieres that separated the library from the
+other room--where we had lost Watson, and where Jerome had had his
+experience with the old lady. Tense and rigid, one forepaw held up
+stealthily, her stub tail erect and the hair along her back bristled.
+Again the low growl. I caught Jerome's eyes. It was queer.
+
+“What is it, Queen?” I spoke.
+
+At the sound of my voice she wagged her tail and looked round, then
+stepped between the curtains. Just her head. She drew back; her lips
+drawn from her teeth, snarling. She was rigid, alert, vitalised. Somehow
+it made me cold. She was a brave dog; she feared nothing. The detective
+stepped forward and pulled the curtains apart. The room was empty. We
+looked into each other's faces. What is there to instinct? What is its
+range? We could see nothing.
+
+But not to the dog. Her eyes glowed. Hate, fear, terror, her whole body
+rigid.
+
+“I wonder,” I said. I stepped into the room. But I hadn't counted on the
+dog. With a yelp she was upon me, had me by the calf of the leg and was
+drawing me back. She stepped in front of me; a low, guttural growl of
+warning. But there was nothing in that room; of that we were certain.
+
+“Beats me,” said the detective. “How does she know? Wonder if she would
+stop me?” He stepped forward. It was merely a repetition. She caught
+him by the trouser-leg and drew him back. She crowded us away from the
+curtain. It was almost magnetic. We could see nothing, neither could we
+feel; was it possible that the dog could see beyond us? The detective
+spoke first:
+
+“Take her out of the room. Put her in the hall; tie her up.”
+
+“What's the idea?”
+
+“Merely this; I am going to examine the room. No, I am not afraid. I'll
+be mighty glad if it does catch me. Anything so long as I get results.”
+
+But it did us no good. We examined the room many times that night; both
+of us. In the end there was nothing, only the weirdness and uncertainty
+and the magnetic undercurrent which we could feel, but could not fathom.
+When we called in the dog she stepped to the portieres and commenced her
+vigil. She crouched slightly behind the curtains, alert, ready, waiting,
+at her post of honour. From that moment she never left the spot except
+under compulsion. We could hear her at all times of the night; the low
+growl, the snarl, the defiance.
+
+But there was a great deal more that we were to learn from the dog. It
+was Jerome who first called my attention. A small fact at the beginning;
+but of a strange sequence. This time it was the ring. Queen had the
+habit that is common to most dogs; she would lick my hand to show her
+affection. It was nothing in itself; but for one fact--she always chose
+the left hand. It was the detective who first noticed it. Always and
+every opportunity she would lick the jewel. We made a little test to try
+her. I would remove the ring from one hand to the other; then hold it
+behind me. She would follow.
+
+It was a strange fact; but of course not inexplicable. A scent or the
+attraction of taste might account for it. However, these little tests
+led to a rather remarkable discovery.
+
+One night we had called the dog from her vigil. As usual she came to
+the jewel; by chance I pressed the gem against her head. It was a mere
+trifle; yet it was of consequence. A few minutes before I had dropped a
+handkerchief on the opposite side of the room; I was just thinking about
+picking it up. It was only a small thing, yet it put us on the track
+of the gem's strangest potency. The dog walked to the handkerchief. She
+brought it back in her mouth. At first I took it for a pure coincidence.
+I repeated the experiment with a book. The same result. I looked up at
+Jerome.
+
+“What's the matter?” Then when I explained: “The dickens! Try it again.”
+
+Over and over again we repeated it, using different articles, pieces of
+which I was certain she didn't know the name. There was a strange bond
+between the gem and the intelligence, some strange force emanating from
+its lustre. On myself it was depressing; on the dog it was life itself.
+At last Jerome had an inspiration.
+
+“Try the Rhamda,” he said; “think of him. Perhaps--”
+
+It was most surprising. Certainly it was remarkable. It was too much
+like intelligence; a bit too uncanny. At the instant of the thought the
+dog leaped backward.
+
+Such a strange transformation; she was naturally gentle. In one
+instant she had gone mad. Mad? Not in the literal interpretation; but
+figuratively. She sprang back, snapping; her teeth bared, her hair
+bristled. Her nostrils drawn. With one bound she leaped between the
+curtains.
+
+Jerome jumped up. With an exclamation he drew the portieres. I was
+behind him. The dog was standing at the edge of the room, bristling.
+
+The room was empty. What did she see? What?
+
+One thing was certain. Though we were sure of nothing else we were
+certain of the Rhamda. We could trust the canine's instinct. Every
+previous experiment we had essayed had been crowned with success. We had
+here a fact but no explanation. If we could only put things together and
+extract the law.
+
+It was late when we retired. I could not sleep. The restlessness of the
+dog held back my slumber. She would growl sullenly, then stir about for
+a new position; she was never quite still. I could picture her there
+in the library, behind the curtains, crouched, half resting, half
+slumbering, always watching. I would awaken in the night and listen; a
+low guttural warning, a sullen whine--then stillness. It was the same
+with my companion. We could never quite understand it. Perhaps we were a
+bit afraid.
+
+But one can become accustomed to almost anything. It went on for many
+nights without anything happening, until one night.
+
+It was dark, exceedingly dark, with neither moon nor starlight; one of
+those nights of inky intenseness. I cannot say just exactly what woke
+me. The house was strangely silent and still; the air seemed stretched
+and laden. It was summer. Perhaps it was the heat. I only knew that I
+woke suddenly and blinked in the darkness.
+
+In the next room with the door open I could hear the heavy breathing
+of the detective. A heavy feeling lay against my heart. I had grown
+accustomed to dread and isolation; but this was different. Perhaps
+it was premonition. I do not know. And yet I was terribly sleepy; I
+remember that.
+
+I struck a match and looked at my watch on the bureau--twelve
+thirty-five. No sound--not even Queen--not even a rumble from the
+streets. I lay back and dropped into slumber. Just as I drifted off to
+sleep I had a blurring fancy of sound, guttural, whining, fearful--then
+suddenly drifting into incoherent rumbling phantasms--a dream. I awoke
+suddenly. Someone was speaking. It was Jerome.
+
+“Harry!”
+
+I was frightened. It was like something clutching out of the darkness.
+I sat up. I didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. The incoherence of my
+dream had been external. The library was just below me. I could hear the
+dog pacing to and fro, and her snarling. Snarling? It was just that. It
+was something to arouse terror.
+
+She had never growled like that--I was positive, I could hear her
+suddenly leap back from the curtains. She barked. Never before had she
+come to that. Then a sudden lunge into the other room--a vicious series
+of snapping barks, yelps--pandemonium--I could picture her leaping--at
+what? Then suddenly I leaped out of bed. The barks grew faint, faint,
+fainter--into the distance.
+
+In the darkness I couldn't find the switch. I bumped into Jerome. We
+were lost in our confusion. It was a moment before we could find either
+a match or a switch to turn on the lights. But at last--I shall not
+forget that moment; nor Jerome. He was rigid; one arm held
+aloft, his eyes bulged out. The whole house was full of
+sound--full-toned--vibrant--magnetic. It was the bell.
+
+I jumped for the stairway, but not so quick as Jerome. With three bounds
+we were in the library with the lights on. The sound was running down
+to silence. We tore down the curtains and rushed into the room. It was
+empty!
+
+There was not even the dog. Queen had gone! In a vain rush of grief I
+began calling and whistling. It was an overwhelming moment. The poor,
+brave shepherd. She had seen it and rushed into its face.
+
+It was the last night I was to have Jerome. We sat up until daylight.
+For the thousandth time we went over the house in detail, but there was
+nothing. Only the ring. At the suggestion of the detective I touched the
+match to the sapphire. It was the same. The colour diminishing, and the
+translucent corridors deepening into the distance; then the blur and the
+coming of shadows--the men, Watson and the professor--and my dog.
+
+Of the men, only the heads showed; but the dog was full figure; she was
+sitting, apparently on a pedestal, her tongue was lolling out of her
+mouth and her face of that gentle intelligence which only the Australian
+shepherd is heir to. That is all--no more--nothing. If we had hoped to
+discover anything through her medium we were disappointed. Instead of
+clearing up, the whole thing had grown deeper.
+
+I have said that it was the last night I was to have Jerome. I didn't
+know it then. Jerome went out early in the morning. I went to bed. I
+was not afraid in the daylight. I was certain now that the danger was
+localised. As long as I kept out of that apartment I had nothing to
+fear. Nevertheless, the thing was magnetic. A subtle weirdness pervaded
+the building. I did not sleep soundly. I was lonely; the isolation was
+crowding on me. In the afternoon I stepped out on the streets.
+
+I have spoken of my experience with the conductor. On this day I had the
+certainty of my isolation; it was startling. In the face of what I was
+and what I had seen it was almost terrifying. It was the first time
+I thought of sending for Hobart. I had thought I could hold out. The
+complete suddenness of the thing set me to thinking. I thought of
+Watson. It was the last phase, the feebleness, the wanness, the inertia!
+He had been a far stronger man than I in the beginning.
+
+I must cable Fenton. While I had still an ego in the presence of men, I
+must reach out for help. It was a strange thing and inexplicable. I was
+not invisible. Don't think that. I simply did not individualise. Men
+didn't notice me--till I spoke. As if I was imperceptibly losing the
+essence of self. I still had some hold on the world. While it remained I
+must get word to Hobart. I did not delay. Straight to the office I went
+and paid for the cable.
+
+CANNOT HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER. COME AT ONCE.--HARRY.
+
+I was a bit ashamed. I had hoped. I had counted upon myself. I
+had trusted in the full strength of my individuality. I had been
+healthy--strong--full blooded. On the fullness of vitality one would
+live forever. There is no tomorrow. It was not a year ago. I was eighty.
+It had been so with Watson. What was this subtle thing that ate into
+one's marrow? I had read of banshees, lemures and leprechauns; they were
+the ghosts and the fairies of ignorance but they were not like this. It
+was impersonal, hidden, inexorable. It was mystery. And I believed that
+it was Nature.
+
+I know it now. Even as I write I can sense the potency of the force
+about me. Some law, some principle, some force that science has not
+uncovered.
+
+What is that law that shall bridge the chaos between the mystic and the
+substantial? I am standing on the bridge; and I cannot see it. What is
+the great law that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb? Who is the Rhamda? Who
+is the Nervina?
+
+Jerome has not returned. I cannot understand it. It has been a week. I
+am living on brandy--not much of anything else--I am waiting for Fenton.
+I have taken all my elaborations and notes and put them together.
+Perhaps I--
+
+(This is the last of the strange document left by Harry Wendel. The
+following memorandum is written by Charlotte Fenton.)
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+CHARLOTTE'S STORY
+
+
+I do not know. It is hard to write after what has happened.
+
+Hobart says that it is why I am to write it. It is to be a plain
+narrative. Besides, he is very busy and cannot do it himself. There must
+be some record. I shall do my best and hold out of my writing as much as
+I can of my emotion. I shall start with the Nervina.
+
+It was the first I knew; the first warning. Looking back I cannot but
+wonder. No person I think who has ever seen the Nervina can do much
+else; she is so beautiful! Beautiful? Why do I say it? I should be
+jealous and I should hate her. Yet I do not. Why is it?
+
+It was about eight months after Hobart had left for South America. I
+remember those eight months as the longest in my life; because of Harry.
+I am a girl and I like attention; all girls do. Ordinarily he would come
+over every fortnight at least. After Hobart had gone he came once only,
+and of course I resented the inattention.
+
+It seemed to me that no business could be of enough importance if he
+really loved me. Even his letters were few and far between. What he
+wrote were slow and weary and of an undertone that I could not fathom.
+I--loved Harry. I could not understand it. I had a thousand fearful
+thoughts and jealousies; but they were feminine and in no way
+approximated even the beginning of the truth. Inattention was not like
+Harry. It was not until the coming of the Nervina that I was afraid.
+
+Afraid? I will not say that--exactly. It was rather a suspicion, a queer
+undercurrent of wonder and doubt. The beauty of the girl, her interest
+in Harry and myself, her concern over this ring, put me a bit on guard.
+I wondered what this ring had to do with Harry Wendel.
+
+She did not tell me in exact words or in literal explanation; but she
+managed to convey all too well a lurking impression of its sinister
+potency. It was something baleful, something the very essence of which
+would break down the life of one who wore it. Harry had come into its
+possession by accident and she would save him. She had failed through
+direct appeal. Now she had come to me. She did not say a word of the
+Blind Spot.
+
+And the next day came Harry. It was really a shock, though I had been
+warned by the girl. He was not Harry at all, but another. His eyes were
+dim and they had lost their lustre; when they did show light at all,
+it was a kind that was a bit fearful. He was wan, worn, and shrunk to a
+shadow, as if he had gone through a long illness.
+
+He said he had not been sick. He maintained that he was quite well
+physically. And on his finger was the ring of which the girl had spoken.
+Its value must have been incalculable. Wherever he moved his hand its
+blue flame cut a path through the darkness. But he said nothing about
+it. I waited and wondered and was afraid. It was not until our walk
+under the elm trees that it was mentioned.
+
+It was a full moon; a wonderful, mellow moon of summer. He stopped
+suddenly and gazed up at the orb above us. It seemed to me that his
+mind was wandering, he held me closely--tenderly. He was not at all
+like Harry. There was a missing of self, of individuality; he spoke in
+abstractions.
+
+“The maiden of the moonbeams?” he said. “What can it mean?”
+
+And then I asked him. He has already told of our conversation. It was
+the ring of which the Nervina had told me. It had to do with the Blind
+Spot--the great secret that had taken Dr. Holcomb. He would not give it
+to me. I worked hard, for even then I was not afraid of it. Something
+told me--I must do it to save him. It was weird, and something I could
+not understand--but I must do it for Harry.
+
+I failed. Though he was broken in every visible way there was one thing
+as strong as ever--his honour. He was not afraid; he had been the same
+in his boyhood. When we parted that night he kissed me. I shall never
+forget how long he looked into my eyes, nor his sadness. That is all.
+The next morning he left for San Francisco.
+
+And then came the end. A message; abrupt and sudden. It was some time
+after and put a period to my increasing stress and worry. It read:
+
+CITY OF PERU DOCKS TONIGHT AT EIGHT. MEET ME AT THE PIER. HOBART
+COMING,--HARRY.
+
+It was a short message and a bit twisted. In ordinary circumstances he
+would have motored down and brought me back to greet Hobart. It was a
+bit strange that I should meet him at the pier. However, I had barely
+time to get to the city if I hurried.
+
+I shall never forget that night.
+
+It was dark when I reached San Francisco. I was a full twenty minutes
+early at the pier. A few people were waiting. I looked about for Harry.
+He was to meet me and I was certain that I would find him. But he was
+not there. Of course there was still time. He was sure to be on hand to
+greet Hobart.
+
+Nevertheless, I had a vague mistrust. Since that strange visit I had not
+been sure. Harry wasn't well. There was something to this mystery that
+he had not told me. Why had he asked me to meet him at the pier? Why
+didn't he come? When the boat docked and he was still missing I was
+doubly worried.
+
+Hobart came down the gangplank. He was great, strong, healthy, and it
+seemed to me in a terrible hurry. He scanned the faces hurriedly and ran
+over to me.
+
+“Where's Harry?” He kissed me and in the same breath repeated, “Where's
+Harry?”
+
+“Oh, Hobart!” I exclaimed. “What's the matter with Harry? Tell me. It's
+something terrible!”
+
+He was afraid. Plainly I could see that! There were lines of anxiety
+about his eyes. He clutched me by the arm and drew me away.
+
+“He was to meet me here,” I said. “He didn't come. He was to meet me
+here! Oh, Hobart, I saw him some time ago. He was--it was not Harry at
+all! Do you know anything about it?”
+
+For a minute he stood still, looking at me. I had never seen Hobart
+frightened; but at that moment there was that in his eyes which I could
+not understand. He caught me by the arm and started out almost at a
+run. There were many people and we dodged in and out among them. Hobart
+carried a suitcase. He hailed a taxi.
+
+I don't know how I got into the car. It was a blur. I was frightened.
+Some terrible thing had occurred, and Hobart knew it. I remember a few
+words spoken to the driver. “Speed, speed, no limit; never mind the
+law--and Chatterton Place!” After that the convulsive jerking over the
+cobbled streets, a climbing over hills and twisted corners. And Hobart
+at my side. “Faster--faster,” he was saying; “faster! My lord, was there
+ever a car so slow! Harry! Harry!” I could hear him breathing a prayer.
+Another hill; the car turned and came suddenly to a stop! Hobart leaped
+out.
+
+A sombre two-storey house; a light burning in one of the windows, a dim
+light, almost subdued and uncanny. I had never seen anything so lonely
+as that light; it was grey, uncertain, scarcely a flicker. Perhaps
+it was my nerves. I had scarcely strength to climb the steps. Hobart
+grasped the knob and thrust open the door; I can never forget it.
+
+It is hard to write. The whole thing! The room; the walls lined with
+books; the dim, pale light, the faded green carpet, and the man. Pale,
+worn, almost a shadow of his former self. Was it Harry Wendel? He had
+aged forty years. He was stooped, withered, exhausted. A bottle
+of brandy on the desk before him. In his weak, thin hand an empty
+wineglass. The gem upon his finger glowed with a flame that was almost
+wicked; it was blue, burning, giving out sparkles of light--like a
+colour out of hell. The path of its light was unholy--it was too much
+alive.
+
+We both sprang forward. Hobart seized him by the shoulders.
+
+“Harry, old boy; Harry! Don't you know us? It's Hobart and Charlotte.”
+
+It was terrible. He didn't seem to know. He looked right at us. But he
+spoke in abstractions.
+
+“Two,” he said. And he listened. “Two! Don't you hear it?” He caught
+Hobart by the arm. “Now, listen. Two! No, it's three. Did I say three?
+Can't you hear? It's the old lady. She speaks out of the shadows. There!
+There! Now, listen. She has been counting to me. Always she says three!
+Soon it will be four.”
+
+What did he mean? What was it about? Who was the old lady? I looked
+round. I saw no one. Hobart stooped over. Harry began slowly to
+recognise us. It was as if his mind had wandered and was coming back
+from a far place. He spoke slowly; his words were incoherent and
+rambling.
+
+“Hobart,” he said; “you know her. She is the maiden out of the
+moonbeams. The Rhamda, he is our enemy. Hobart, Charlotte. I know so
+much. I cannot tell you. You are two hours late. It's a strange thing. I
+have found it and I think I know. It came suddenly. The discovery of the
+great professor. Why didn't you come two hours earlier? We might have
+conquered.”
+
+He dropped his head upon his arms; then as suddenly he looked up. He
+drew the ring from his finger.
+
+“Give it to Charlotte,” he said. “It won't hurt her. Don't touch it
+yourself. Had I only known. Watson didn't know--”
+
+He straightened; he was tense, rigid, listening.
+
+“Do you hear anything? Listen! Can you hear? It's the old lady. There--”
+
+But there was not a sound; only the rumble of the streets, the ticking
+of the clock, and our heart-beats. Again he went through the counting.
+
+“Hobart!”
+
+“Yes, Harry.”
+
+“And Charlotte! The ring--ah, yet it was there, Keep it. Give it to no
+one. Two hours ago we might have conquered. But I had to keep the ring.
+It was too much, too powerful; a man may not wear it. Charlotte”--he
+took my hand and ran the ring upon my finger. “Poor Charlotte. Here is
+the ring. The most wonderful--”
+
+Again he dropped over. He was weak--there was something going from him
+minute by minute.
+
+“Water,” he asked. “Hobart, some water.”
+
+It was too pitiful. Harry, our Harry--come to a strait like this! Hobart
+rushed to another room with the tumbler. I could hear him fumbling. I
+stooped over Harry. But he held up his hand.
+
+“No, Charlotte, no. You must not. If--”
+
+He stopped. Again the strange attention, as if he was listening to
+something far off in the distance; the pupils of his hollow, worn,
+lustreless eyes were pin-points. He stood on his feet rigid, quivering;
+then he held up his hand. “Listen!”
+
+But there was nothing. It was just as before; merely the murmuring of
+the city night, and the clock ticking.
+
+“It's the dog! D'you hear her? And the old lady. Now listen, 'Two!
+Now there are two! Three! Three! Now there are three!' There--now.” He
+turned to me. “Can you hear it, Charlotte? No? How strange. Perhaps--”
+ He pointed to the corner of the room. “That paper. Will you--”
+
+I shall always go over that moment. I have thought over it many times
+and have wondered at the sequence. Had I not stepped across the library,
+what would have happened?
+
+What was it.
+
+I had stooped to pick up the piece of paper. There came a queer,
+cracking, snapping sound, almost audible, I have a strange recollection
+of Harry standing up by the side of the desk--a flitting
+vision. An intuition of some terrible force. It was out of
+nothing--nowhere--approaching. I turned about. And I saw it--the dot of
+blue.
+
+Blue! That is what it was at first. Blue and burning, like the flame
+of a million jewels centred into a needlepoint. On the ceiling directly
+above Harry's head. It was scintillating, coruscating, opalescent; but
+it was blue most of all. It was the colour of life and of death; it was
+burning, throbbing, concentrated. I tried to scream. But I was frozen
+with horror. The dot changed colour and went to a dead-blue. It seemed
+to grow larger and to open. Then it turned to white and dropped like a
+string of incandescence, touching Harry on the head.
+
+What was it? It was all so sudden. A door flung open and a swish of
+rushing silk. A woman! A beautiful girl! The Nervina! It was she!
+
+Never have I seen anyone like her. She was so beautiful. In her face all
+the compassion a woman is heir to. For scarcely a second she stopped.
+
+“Charlotte,” she called. “Charlotte--oh, why didn't you save him! He
+loves you!” Then she turned to Harry. “It shall not be. He shall not go
+alone. I shall save him, even beyond--”
+
+With that she rushed upon Harry. It was all done in an instant. Her arms
+were outstretched to the dimming form of Harry and the incandescence.
+The splendid impassioned girl. Their forms intermingled. A blur of her
+beautiful body and Harry's wan, weary face. A flash of light, a thread
+of incandescence, a quiver--and they were gone.
+
+The next I knew was the strong arms of my brother Hobart. He gave me the
+water he had fetched for Harry. He was terribly upset, but very calm. He
+held the glass up to my lips. He was speaking.
+
+“Don't worry. Don't worry. I know now. I think I know. I was just in
+time to see them go. I heard the bell. Harry is safe. It is the Nervina.
+I shall get Harry. We'll solve the Blind Spot.”
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+HOBART FENTON TAKES UP THE TALE
+
+
+Right here at the outset, I had better make a clean breast of something
+which the reader will very soon suspect, anyhow: I am a plain, unpoetic,
+blunt-speaking man, trained as a civil engineer, and in most respects
+totally dissimilar from the man who wrote the first account of the Blind
+Spot.
+
+Harry had already touched upon this. He came of an artistic family. I
+think he must have taken up law in the hope that the old saying would
+prove true: “The only certain thing about law is its uncertainty.” For
+he dearly loved the mysterious, the unknowable; he liked uncertainty for
+its excitement: and it is a mighty good thing that he was honest, for he
+would have made a highly dangerous crook.
+
+Observe that I use the past tense in referring to my old friend. I do
+this in the interests of strict, scientific accuracy, to satisfy those
+who would contend that, having utterly vanished from sight and sound of
+man, Harry Wendel is no more.
+
+But in my own heart is the firm conviction that he is still very much
+alive.
+
+Within an hour of his astounding disappearance, my sister, Charlotte,
+and I made our way to an hotel; and despite the terrible nature of what
+had happened, we managed to get a few hours rest. The following morning
+Charlotte declared herself quite strong enough to discuss the situation.
+We lost no time.
+
+It will be remembered that I had spent nearly the whole of the preceding
+year in South America, putting through an irrigation scheme. Thus, I
+knew little of what had occurred in that interval. On the other hand,
+Harry and I had never seen fit to take Charlotte into our confidence as,
+I now see, we should have done.
+
+So we fairly pounced upon the manuscript which Harry had left behind.
+And by the time we had finished reading it, I for one, had reached one
+solid conclusion.
+
+“I'm convinced,” I said, “that the stranger--Rhamda Avec--is an
+out-and-out villain. Despite his agreeable ways, I think he was solely
+and deliberately to blame for Professor Holcomb's disappearance.
+Consequently, this Rhamda is, in himself, a very valuable clue as to
+Harry's present predicament.”
+
+Referring to Harry's notes, I pointed out the fact that, although Avec
+had often been seen on the streets of San Francisco, yet the police had
+never been able to lay hands on him. This seemed to indicate that
+the man might possess the power of actually making himself visible or
+invisible, at will.
+
+“Only”--I was careful to add--“understand, I don't rank him as a
+magician, or sorcerer; nothing like that. I'd rather think that he's
+merely in possession of a scientific secret, no more wonderful in
+itself than, say, wireless. He's merely got hold of it in advance of the
+others; that's all.”
+
+“Then you think that the woman, too, is human?”
+
+“The Nervina?” I hesitated. “Perhaps you know more of this part of the
+thing than I do.”
+
+“I only know”--slowly--“that she came and told me that Harry was soon to
+call. And somehow, I never felt jealous of her, Hobart.” Then she added:
+“At the same time, I can understand that Harry might--might have fallen
+in love with her. She--she was very beautiful.”
+
+Charlotte is a brave girl. She kept her voice as steady as my own.
+
+We next discussed the disappearance of Chick Watson. These details are
+already familiar to the reader of Harry's story; likewise what happened
+to Queen, his Australian shepherd. Like the other vanishings, it was
+followed by a single stroke on that prodigious, invisible bell--what
+Harry calls “The Bell of the Blind Spot.” And he has already mentioned
+my opinion, that this phenomenon signifies the closing of the portal of
+the unknown--the end of the special conditions which produce the bluish
+spot on the ceiling, the incandescent streak of light, and the vanishing
+of whoever falls into the affected region. The mere fact that no trace
+of the bell ever was found has not shaken my opinion.
+
+And thus we reached the final disappearance, that which took away Harry.
+Charlotte contrived to keep her voice as resolute as before, as she
+said:
+
+“He and the Nervina vanished together. I turned round just as she rushed
+in, crying out, 'I can't let you go alone! I'll save you, even beyond.'
+That's all she said, before--it happened.”
+
+“You saw nothing of the Rhamda then?”
+
+“No.”
+
+And we had neither seen nor heard of him since. Until we got in touch
+with him, one important clue as to Harry's fate was out of our reach.
+There remained to us just one thread of hope--the ring, which Charlotte
+was now wearing on her finger.
+
+I lit a match and held it to the face of the gem. As happened many times
+before, the stone exhibited its most astounding quality. As soon as
+faintly heated, the surface at first clouded, then cleared in a curious
+fashion, revealing a startling distinct, miniature likeness of the four
+who had vanished into the Blind Spot.
+
+I make no attempt to explain this. Somehow or other, that stone
+possesses a telescopic quality which brings to a focus, right in front
+of the beholder's eyes, a tiny “close-up” of our vanished friends. Also,
+the gem magnifies what it reveals, so that there is not the slightest
+doubt that Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson, Queen and Harry Wendel are
+actually reproduced--I shall not say, contained--in that gem. Neither
+shall I say that they are reflected; they are simply reproduced there.
+
+Also, it should be understood that their images are living. Only the
+heads and shoulders of the men are to be seen; but there is animation
+of the features, such as cannot be mistaken. Granted that these four
+vanished in the Blind Spot--whatever that is--and granted that this ring
+is some inexplicable window or vestibule between that locality and this
+commonplace world of ours, then, manifestly, it would seem that all four
+are still alive.
+
+“I am sure of it!” declared Charlotte, managing to smile, wistfully,
+at the living reproduction of her sweetheart. “And I think Harry did
+perfectly right, in handing it to me to keep.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Well, if for no other reason than because it behaves so differently
+with me, than it did with him.
+
+“Hobart, I am inclined to think that this fact is very significant. If
+Chick had only known of it, he wouldn't have insisted that Harry should
+wear it; and then--”
+
+“Can't be helped,” I interrupted quickly. “Chick didn't know; he was
+only certain that someone--SOMEONE--must wear the ring; that it mustn't
+pass out of the possession of humans. Moreover, much as Rhamda Avec may
+desire it--and the Nervina, too--neither can secure it through the use
+of force. Nobody knows why.”
+
+Charlotte shivered. “I'm afraid there's something spooky about it, after
+all.”
+
+“Nothing of the sort,” with a conviction that has never left me. “This
+ring is a perfectly sound fact, as indisputable as the submarine.
+There's nothing supernatural about it; for that matter, I personally
+doubt if there's ANYTHING supernatural. Every phenomenon which seems,
+at first, so wonderful, becomes commonplace enough as soon as explained.
+Isn't it true that you yourself are already getting used to that ring?”
+
+“Ye--es,” reluctantly. “That is, partly. If only it were someone other
+than Harry!”
+
+“Of course,” I hurried to say, “I only wanted to make it clear that
+we haven't any witchcraft to deal with. This whole mystery will become
+plain as day, and that damned soon!”
+
+“You've got a theory?”--hopefully.
+
+“Several; that's the trouble!” I had to admit. “I don't know which is
+best to follow out.--It may be a spiritualistic thing after all. Or
+it may fall under the head of 'abnormal psychology'. Nothing but
+hallucinations, in other words.”
+
+“Oh, that won't do!”--evidently distressed. “I know what I saw! I'd
+doubt my reason if I thought I'd only fancied it!”
+
+“So would I. Well, laying aside the spiritualistic theory, there remains
+the possibility of some hitherto undiscovered scientific secret. And
+if the Rhamda is in possession of it, then the matter simmers down to a
+plain case of villainy.”
+
+“But how does he do it?”
+
+“That's the whole question. However, I'm sure of this”--I was fingering
+the ring as I spoke. The reproduction of our friends had faded, now,
+leaving that dully glowing pale blue light once more. “This ring is
+absolutely real; it's no hallucination. It performs as well in broad
+daylight as in the night; no special conditions needed. It's neither a
+fraud nor an illusion.
+
+“In short, this ring is merely a phenomenon which science has not YET
+explained! That it can and will be explained is strictly up to us! Once
+we understand its peculiar properties, we can mighty soon rescue Harry!”
+
+And it was just then that a most extraordinary thing occurred. It
+happened so very unexpectedly, so utterly without warning, that it makes
+me shaky to this day whenever I recall it.
+
+From the gem on Charlotte's finger--or rather, from the air surrounding
+the ring--came an unmistakable sound. We saw nothing whatever; we only
+heard. And it was clear, as loud and as startling as though it had
+occurred right in the room where we were discussing the situation.
+
+It was the sharp, joyous bark of a dog.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+THE HOUSE OF MIRACLES
+
+
+Looking back over what has just been written, I am sensible of a
+profound gratitude. I am grateful, both because I have been given the
+privilege of relating these events, and because I shall not have to
+leave this wilderness of facts for someone else to explain.
+
+Really, if I did not know that I shall have the pleasure of piecing
+together these phenomena and of setting my finger upon the comparatively
+simple explanation; if I had to go away and leave this account
+unfinished, a mere collection of curiosity-provoking mysteries, I should
+not speak at all. I should leave the whole affair for another to finish,
+as it ought to be finished.
+
+All of which, it will soon appear, I am setting forth largely in order
+to brace and strengthen myself against what I must now relate.
+
+Before resuming, however, I should mention one detail which Harry was
+too modest to mention. He was--or is--unusually good-looking. I don't
+mean to claim that he possessed any Greek-god beauty; such wouldn't gibe
+with a height of five foot seven. No; his good looks were due to the
+simple outward expression, through his features, of a certain noble
+inward quality which would have made the homeliest face attractive.
+Selfishness will spoil the handsomest features; unselfishness will
+glorify.
+
+Moreover, simply because he had given his word to Chick Watson that he
+would wear the ring, Harry took upon himself the most dangerous task
+that any man could assume, and he had lost. But had he known in advance
+exactly what was going to happen to him, he would have stuck to his
+word, anyhow. And since there was a sporting risk attached to it, since
+the thing was not perfectly sure to end tragically, he probably enjoyed
+the greater part of his experience.
+
+But I'm not like that. Frankly, I'm an opportunist; essentially, a
+practical sort of fellow. I have a great admiration for idealists, but
+a much greater admiration for results. For instance, I have seldom given
+my word, even though the matter is unimportant; for I will cheerfully
+break my word if, later on, it should develop that the keeping of my
+word would do more harm than good.
+
+I realise perfectly well that it is dangerous ground to tread upon; yet
+I must refer the reader to what I have accomplished in this world, as
+proof that my philosophy is not as bad as it looks.
+
+I beg nobody's pardon for talking about myself so much at the outset.
+This account will be utterly incomprehensible if I am not understood. My
+method of solving the Blind Spot mystery is, when analysed, merely the
+expression of my personality. My sole idea has been to get RESULTS.
+
+As Harry has put it, a proposition must be reduced to concrete form
+before I will have anything to do with it. If the Blind Spot had been
+a totally occult affair, demanding that the investigation be conducted
+under cover of darkness, surrounded by black velvet, crystal spheres and
+incense; demanding the aid of a clairvoyant or other “medium,” I should
+never have gone near it. But as soon as the mystery began to manifest
+itself in terms that I could understand, appreciate and measure, then I
+took interest.
+
+That is why old Professor Holcomb appealed to me; he had proposed that
+we prove the occult by physical means. “Reduce it to the scope of our
+five senses,” he had said, in effect. From that moment on I was his
+disciple.
+
+I have told of hearing that sharp, welcoming bark, emitted either from
+the gem or from the air surrounding it. This event took place on the
+front porch of the house at 288 Chatterton Place, as Charlotte and I sat
+there talking it over. We had taken a suite at the hotel, but had come
+to the house of the Blind Spot in order to decide upon a course of
+action. And, in a way, that mysterious barking decided it for us.
+
+We returned to the hotel, and gave notice that we would leave the next
+day. Next, we began to make preparations for moving into the Chatterton
+Place dwelling.
+
+That afternoon, while in the midst of giving orders for furnishings and
+the like, there at the hotel, I was called to the telephone. It was from
+a point outside the building.
+
+“Mr. Fenton?”--in a man's voice. And when I had assured him; “You have
+no reason to recognise my voice. I am--Rhamda Avec.”
+
+“The Rhamda! What do you want?”
+
+“To speak with your sister, Mr. Fenton.” Odd how very agreeable the
+man's tones! “Will you kindly call her to the telephone?”
+
+I saw no objection. However, when Charlotte came to my side I whispered
+for her to keep the man waiting while I darted out into the corridor and
+slipped downstairs, where the girl at the switchboard put an instrument
+into the circuit for me. Money talks. However--
+
+“My dear child,” the voice of Avec was saying, “you do me an injustice.
+I have nothing but your welfare at heart. I assure you that if anything
+should happen to you and your brother while at Chatterton Place, it will
+be through no fault of mine.
+
+“At the same time I can positively assure you that, if you stay away
+from there, no harm will come to either of you; absolutely none! I can
+guarantee that. Don't ask me why; but, if you value your safety, stay
+where you are, or go elsewhere, anywhere other than to the house in
+Chatterton Place.”
+
+“I can hardly agree with you, Mr. Avec.” Plainly Charlotte was deeply
+impressed with the man's sincerity and earnestness. “My brother's
+judgment is so much better than mine, that I--” and she paused
+regretfully.
+
+“I only wish,” with his remarkable gracefulness, “that your intuition
+were as strong as your loyalty to your brother. If it were, you would
+know that I speak the truth when I say that I have only your welfare at
+heart.”
+
+“I--I am sorry, Mr. Avec.”
+
+“Fortunately, there is one alternative,” even more agreeable than
+before. “If you prefer not to take my advice, but cling to your
+brother's decision, you can still avoid the consequences of his
+determination to live in that house. As I say, I cannot prevent harm
+from befalling you, under present conditions; but these conditions
+can be completely altered if you will make a single concession, Miss
+Fenton.”
+
+“What is it?” eagerly.
+
+“That you give me the ring!”
+
+He paused for a very tense second. I wished I could see his peculiar,
+young-old face--the face with the inscrutable eyes; the face that urged,
+rather than inspired, both curiosity and confidence.
+
+Then he added:
+
+“I know why you wear it; I realise that the trinket carries some very
+tender associations. And I would never ask such a concession did I not
+know, were your beloved here at this moment, he would endorse every word
+that I say, and--”
+
+“Harry!” cried Charlotte, her voice shaking. “He would tell me to give
+it to you?”
+
+“I am sure of it! It is as though he, through me, were urging you to do
+this!”
+
+For some moments there was silence. Charlotte must have been
+tremendously impressed. It certainly was amazing the degree of
+confidence that Avec's voice induced. I wouldn't have been greatly
+surprised had my sister--
+
+“Mr. Avec,” came Charlotte's voice, hesitatingly, almost sorrowfully.
+“I--I would like to believe you; but--but Harry himself gave me the
+ring, and I feel--oh, I'm sure that my brother would never agree to it!”
+
+“I understand.” Somehow the fellow managed to conceal any disappointment
+he may have felt. He contrived to show only a deep sympathy for
+Charlotte as he finished: “If I find it possible to protect you, I
+shall, Miss Fenton.”
+
+After it was all over, and I returned to the rooms, Charlotte and
+I concluded that it might have been better had we made some sort of
+compromise. If we had made a partial concession, he might have told us
+something of the mystery. We ought to have bargained. We decided that if
+he made any attempt to carry out what I felt sure were merely a thinly
+veiled threat to punish us for keeping the gem, we must not only be
+ready for whatever he might do, but try to trap and keep him as well.
+
+That same day found us back at Chatterton Place. Inside, there was
+altogether too much evidence that the place had been bachelors'
+quarters.
+
+The first step was to clean up. We hired lots of help, and made a quick
+thorough job of both floors. The basement we left untouched. And the
+next day we put a force of painters and decorators to work; whereby
+hangs the tale.
+
+“Mr. Fenton,” called the head painter, as he varnished the “trim” in the
+parlour, “I wish you'd come and see what to make of this.”
+
+I stepped into the front room. He was pointing to the long piece of
+finish which spanned the doorway leading into the dining-room. And he
+indicated a spot almost in the exact middle, a spot covering a space
+about five inches broad and as high as the width of the wood. In outline
+it was roughly octagonal.
+
+“I've been trying my best,” stated Johnson, “to varnish that spot for
+the past five minutes. But I'll be darned if I can do it!”
+
+And he showed what he meant. Every other part of the door glistened
+with freshly applied varnish; but the octagonal region remained dull, as
+though no liquid had ever touched it. Johnson dipped his brush into the
+can, and applied a liberal smear of the fluid to the place. Instantly
+the stuff disappeared.
+
+“Blamed porous piece of wood,” eyeing me queerly. “Or--do you think it's
+merely porous, Mr. Fenton?”
+
+For answer I took a brush and repeatedly daubed the place. It was like
+dropping ink on a blotter. The wood sucked up the varnish as a desert
+might suck up water.
+
+“There's about a quart of varnish in the wood already,” observed
+Johnson, as I stared and pondered. “Suppose we take it down and weigh
+it?”
+
+Inside of a minute we had that piece of trim down from its place. First,
+I carefully examined the timber framework behind, expecting to see
+traces of the varnish where, presumably, it had seeped through. There
+was no sign. Then I inspected the reverse side of the finish, just
+behind the peculiar spot. I thought I might see a region of wide open
+pores in the grain of the pine. But the back looked exactly the same as
+the front, with no difference in the grain at any place.
+
+Placing the finish right side up, I proceeded to daub the spot some
+more. There was no change in the results. At last I took the can, and
+without stopping, poured a quart and a half of the fluid into that
+paradoxical little area.
+
+“Well I'll be darned!”--very loudly from Johnson. But when I looked up I
+saw his face was white, and his lips shaking.
+
+His nerves were all a-jangle. To give his mind a rest, I sent him for a
+hatchet. When he came back his face had regained its colour. I directed
+him to hold the pine upright, while I, with a single stroke, sank the
+tool into the end of the wood.
+
+It split part way. A jerk, and the wood fell in two halves.
+
+“Well?” from Johnson, blankly.
+
+“Perfectly normal wood, apparently.” I had to admit that it was
+impossible to distinguish the material which constituted the peculiar
+spot from that which surrounded it.
+
+I sent Johnson after more varnish. Also, I secured several other fluids,
+including water, milk, ink, and machine oil. And when the painter
+returned we proceeded with a very thorough test indeed.
+
+Presently it became clear that we were dealing with a phenomenon of the
+Blind Spot. All told, we poured about nine pints of liquid into an area
+of about twenty square inches; all on the outer surface, for the
+split side would absorb nothing. And to all appearances we might have
+continued to pour indefinitely.
+
+Ten minutes later I went down into the basement to dispose of some
+rubbish. (Charlotte didn't know of this defection in our housekeeping.)
+It was bright sunlight outside. Thanks to the basement windows, I needed
+no artificial luminant. And when my gaze rested upon the ground directly
+under the parlour, I saw something there that I most certainly had never
+noticed before.
+
+The fact is, the basement at 288 Chatterton Place never did possess
+anything worthy of special notice. Except for the partition which
+Harry Wendel and Jerome, the detective, were the first in years to
+penetrate--except for that secret doorway, there was nothing down there
+to attract attention. To be sure, there was a quantity of up-turned
+earth, the result of Jerome's vigorous efforts to see whether or not
+there was any connection between the Blind Spot phenomena which he had
+witnessed and the cellar. He had secured nothing but an appetite for all
+his digging.
+
+However, it was still too dark for me to identify what I saw at once. I
+stood for a few moments, accustoming my eyes to the light. Except that
+the thing gleamed oddly like a piece of glass, and that it possessed
+a nearly circular outline about two feet across, I couldn't tell much
+about it.
+
+Then I stooped and examined it closely. At once I became conscious of a
+smell which, somehow, I had hitherto not noticed. Small wonder; it
+was as indescribable a smell as one could imagine. It seemed to be a
+combination of several that are not generally combined.
+
+Next instant it flashed upon me that the predominating odour was a
+familiar one. I had been smelling it, in fact, all the morning.
+
+But this did not prevent me from feeling very queer, indeed, as I
+realised what lay before me. A curious chill passed around my shoulders,
+and I scarcely breathed.
+
+At my feet lay a pool, composed of all the various liquids that had been
+poured, upstairs, into that baffling spot in the wood.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+OUT OF THIN AIR
+
+
+Except for the incident just related, when several pints of very real
+fluids were somehow “materialised” at a spot ten feet below where they
+had vanished, nothing worth recording occurred during the first seven
+days of our stay at Chatterton Place.
+
+Seemingly nothing was to come of the Rhamda's warning.
+
+On the other hand we succeeded, during that week, in working a complete
+transformation of the old house. It became one of the brightest spots in
+San Francisco. It cost a good deal of money, all told, but I could well
+afford it. I possessed the hundred thousand with which, I had promised
+myself and Harry, I should solve the Blind Spot. That was what the money
+was for.
+
+On the seventh day after the night of Harry's going, our household was
+increased to three members. For it was then that Jerome returned from
+Nevada, whence he had gone two weeks before on a case.
+
+“Not at all surprised,” he commented, when I told him of Harry's
+disappearance. “Sorry I wasn't here. That crook, Rhamda Avec, in at the
+end?”
+
+He gnawed stolidly at his cigar as I told him the story. Then, after
+briefly approving what I had done to brighten the house, he announced:
+
+“Tell you what. I've got a little money out of that Nevada case; I'm
+going to take another vacation and see this thing through.”
+
+We shook hands on this, and he moved right into his old room. I felt, in
+fact, mighty glad to have Jerome with us. Although he lacked a regular
+academic training, he was fifteen years my senior, and because of
+contact with a wide variety of people in his work, both well-informed
+and reserved in his judgment. He could not be stampeded; he had courage;
+and, above everything else, he had the burning curiosity of which Harry
+has written.
+
+I was upstairs when he unpacked. And I noted among his belongings a
+large, rather heavy automatic pistol. He nodded when I asked if he was
+willing to use it in this case.
+
+“Although”--unbuttoning his waistcoat--“I don't pin as much faith to
+pistols as I used to.
+
+“The Rhamda is, I'm convinced, the very cleverest proposition that
+ever lived. He has means to handle practically anything in the way of
+resistance.” Jerome knew how the fellow had worsted Harry and me. “I
+shouldn't wonder if he can read the mind to some extent; he might be
+able to foresee that I was going to draw a gun, and beat me to it with
+some new weapon of his own.”
+
+Having unbuttoned his waistcoat, Jerome then displayed a curious
+contrivance mounted upon his breast. It consisted of a broad metal
+plate, strapped across his shirt, and affixed to this plate was a
+flat-springed arrangement for firing, simultaneously, the contents of
+a revolver cylinder. To show how it worked, Jerome removed the five
+cartridges and then faced me.
+
+“Tell me to throw up my hands,” directed he. I did so; his palms flew
+into the air; and with a steely snap the mechanism was released.
+
+Had there been cartridges in it, I should have been riddled, for I
+stood right in front. And I shuddered as I noted the small straps around
+Jerome's wrists, running up his sleeves, so disposed that the act of
+surrendering meant instant death to him who might demand.
+
+“May not be ethical, Fenton”--quietly--“but it certainly is good sense
+to shoot first and explain later when you're handling a chap like Avec.
+Better make preparations, too.”
+
+I objected. I pointed out what I have already mentioned; that, together
+with the ring, the Rhamda offered our only clues to the Blind Spot.
+Destroy the man and we would destroy one of our two hopes of rescuing
+our friends from the unthinkable fate that had overtaken them.
+
+“No”--decisively. “We don't want to kill; we want to KEEP him. Bullets
+won't do. I see no reason, however, why you shouldn't load that thing
+with cartridges containing chemicals which would have an effect similar
+to that of a gas bomb. Once you can make him helpless, so that you can
+put those steel bracelets on him, we'll see how dangerous he is with his
+hands behind him!”
+
+“I get you”--thoughtfully. “I know a chemist who will make up
+'Paralysis' gas for me, in the form of gelatine capsules. Shoot 'em at
+the Rhamda; burst upon striking. Safe enough for me, and yet put him out
+of business long enough to fit him with the jewellery.”
+
+“That's the idea.”
+
+But I had other notions about handling the Rhamda. Being satisfied that
+mere strength and agility were valueless against him, I concluded that
+he, likewise realising this, would be on the lookout for any possible
+trap.
+
+Consequently, if I hoped to keep the man, and force him to tell us what
+we wanted to know, then I must make use of something other than physical
+means. Moreover, I gave him credit for an exceptional amount of insight.
+Call it super-instinct, or what you will, the fellow's intellect was
+transcendental.
+
+Once having decided that it must be a battle of wits I took a step which
+may seem, at first, a little peculiar.
+
+I called upon a certain lady to whom I shall give the name of Clarke,
+since that is not the correct one. I took her fully and frankly into my
+confidence. It is the only way, when dealing with a practitioner. And
+since, like most of my fellow citizens, she had heard something of
+the come and go, elusive habits of our men, together with the Holcomb
+affair, it was easy for her to understand just what I wanted.
+
+“I see,” she mused. “You wish to be surrounded by an influence that will
+not so much protect you, as vitalise and strengthen you whenever you
+come in contact with Avec. It will be a simple matter. How far do
+you wish to go?” And thus it was arranged, the plan calling for the
+co-operation of some twenty of her colleagues.
+
+My fellow engineers may sneer, if they like. I know the usual notion:
+that the “power of mind over matter” is all in the brain of the patient.
+That the efforts of the practitioner are merely inductive, and so on.
+
+But I think that the most sceptical will agree that I did quite right in
+seeking whatever support I could get before crossing swords with a man
+as keen as Avec.
+
+Nevertheless, before an opportunity arrived to make use of the
+intellectual machinery which my money had started into operation,
+something occurred which almost threw the whole thing out of gear.
+
+It was the evening after I had returned from Miss Clarke's office. Both
+Charlotte and I had a premonition, after supper, that things were going
+to happen. We all went into the parlour, sat down, and waited.
+
+Presently we started the gramophone. Jerome sat nearest the instrument,
+where he could without rising, lean over and change the records. And all
+three of us recall that the selection being played at the moment was “I
+Am Climbing Mountains,” a sentimental little melody sung by a popular
+tenor. Certainly the piece was far from being melancholy, mysterious, or
+otherwise likely to attract the occult.
+
+I remember that we played it twice, and it was just as the singer
+reached the beginning of the final chorus that Charlotte, who sat
+nearest the door, made a quick move and shivered, as though with cold.
+
+From where I sat, near the dining-room door, I could see through into
+the hall. Charlotte's action made me think that the door might have
+become unlatched, allowing a draught to come through. Afterwards she
+said that she had felt something rather like a breeze pass her chair.
+
+In the middle of the room stood a long, massive table, of conventional
+library type. Overhead was a heavy, burnished copper fixture, from which
+a cluster of electric bulbs threw their brilliance upward, so that the
+room was evenly lighted with the diffused rays as reflected from the
+ceiling. Thus, there were no shadows to confuse the problem.
+
+The chorus of the song was almost through when I heard from the
+direction of the table a faint sound, as though someone had drawn
+fingers lightly across the polished oak. I listened; the sound was not
+repeated, at least not loud enough for me to catch it above the music.
+Next moment, however, the record came to an end; Jerome leaned forward
+to put on another, and Charlotte opened her mouth as though to suggest
+what the new selection might be. But she never said the words.
+
+It began with a scintillating iridescence, up on the ceiling, not eight
+feet from where I sat. As I looked the spot grew, and spread, and flared
+out. It was blue like the elusive blue of the gem; only, it was more
+like flame--the flame of electrical apparatus.
+
+Then, down from that blinding radiance there crept, rather than dropped
+a single thread of incandescence, vivid, with a tinge of the colour
+from which it had surged. Down it crept to the floor; it was like an
+irregular streak of lightning, hanging motionless between ceiling and
+floor, just for the fraction of a second. All in total silence.
+
+And then the radiance vanished, disappeared, snuffed out as one might
+snuff out a candle. And in its stead--
+
+There appeared a fourth person in the room.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE ROUSING OF A MIND
+
+
+It was a girl. Not the Nervina. No; this girl was quite another person.
+
+Even now I find it curiously hard to describe her. For me to say that
+she was the picture of innocence, of purity, and of youth, is still to
+leave unsaid the secret of her loveliness.
+
+For this stranger, coming out of the thin air into our midst, held me
+with a glorious fascination. From the first I felt no misgivings, such
+as Harry confesses he experienced when he fell under the Nervina's
+charm. I knew as I watched the stranger's wondering, puzzled features,
+that I had never before seen anyone so lovely, so attractive, and so
+utterly beyond suspicion.
+
+It was only later that I noted her amazingly delicate complexion, fair
+as her hair was golden; her deep blue eyes, round face, and the girlish
+supple figure; or her robe-like garments of very soft, white material.
+For she commenced almost instantly to talk.
+
+But we understood only with the greatest of difficulty. She spoke as
+might one who, after living in perfect solitude for a score of years, is
+suddenly called upon to use language. And I remembered that Rhamda Avec
+had told Jerome that he had only BEGUN the use of language.
+
+“Who are you?” was her first remark, in the sweetest voice conceivable.
+But there was both fear and anxiety in her manner. “How--did
+I--get--here?”
+
+“You came out of the Blind Spot!” I spoke, jerking out the words
+nervously and, as I saw, too rapidly. I repeated them more slowly. But
+she did not comprehend.
+
+“The--Blind--Spot,” she pondered. “What--is that?”
+
+Next instant, before I could think to warn her, the room trembled with
+the terrific clang of the Blind Spot bell. Just one overwhelming peal;
+no more. At the same time there came a revival of the luminous spot in
+the ceiling. But, with the last tones of the bell, the spot faded to
+nothing.
+
+The girl was pitifully frightened. I sprang to my feet and steadied her
+with one hand--something that I had not dared to do as long as the Spot
+remained open. The touch of my fingers, as she swayed, had the effect of
+bringing her to herself. She listened intelligently to what I said.
+
+“The Blind Spot”--speaking with the utmost care--“is the name we have
+given to a certain mystery. It is always marked by the sound you have
+just heard; that bell always rings when the phenomenon is at an end.”
+
+“And--the--phenomenon,” uttering the word with difficulty, “what is
+that?”
+
+“You,” I returned. “Up till now three human beings have disappeared into
+what we call the Blind Spot. You are the first to be seen coming out of
+it.”
+
+“Hobart,” interrupted Charlotte, coming to my side. “Let me.”
+
+I stepped back, and Charlotte quietly passed an arm round the girl's
+waist. Together they stepped over to Charlotte's chair.
+
+I noted the odd way in which the newcomer walked, unsteadily,
+uncertainly, like a child taking its first steps. I glanced at Jerome,
+wondering if this tallied with what he recalled of the Rhamda; and he
+gave a short nod.
+
+“Don't be frightened,” said Charlotte softly, “we are your friends. In
+a way we have been expecting you, and we shall see to it that no harm
+comes to you.
+
+“Which would you prefer--to ask questions, or to answer them?”
+
+“I”--the girl hesitated--“I--hardly--know. Perhaps--you had--better--ask
+something first.”
+
+“Good. Do you remember where you came from? Can you recall the events
+just prior to your arrival here?”
+
+The girl looked helplessly from the one to the other of us. She seemed
+to be searching for some clue. Finally she shook her head in a hopeless,
+despairing fashion.
+
+“I can't remember,” speaking with a shade less difficulty. “The last
+thing--I recall is--seeing--you three--staring--at me.”
+
+This was a poser. To think, a person who, before our very eyes, had
+materialised out of the Blind Spot, was unable to tell us anything about
+it!
+
+Still this lack of memory might be only a temporary condition,
+brought on by the special conditions under which she had emerged; an
+after-effect, as it were, of the semi-electrical phenomena. And it
+turned out that I was right.
+
+“Then,” suggested Charlotte, “suppose you ask us something.”
+
+The girl's eyes stopped roving and rested definitely, steadily, upon my
+own. And she spoke; still a little hesitantly:
+
+“Who are you? What is your name?”
+
+“Name?” taken wholly by surprise. “Ah--it is Hobart Fenton.
+And”--automatically--“this is my sister Charlotte. The gentleman over
+there is Mr. Jerome.”
+
+“I am glad to know you, Hobart,” with perfect simplicity and apparent
+pleasure; “and you, Charlotte,” passing an arm round my sister's neck;
+“and you--Mister.” Evidently she thought the title of “mister” to be
+Jerome's first name.
+
+Then she went on to say, her eyes coming back to mine:
+
+“Why do you look at me that way, Hobart?”
+
+Just like that! I felt my cheeks go hot and cold by turns. For a moment
+I was helpless; then I made up my mind to be just as frank and candid as
+she.
+
+“Because you're so good to look at!” I blurted out. “I never appreciated
+my eyesight as I do right now!”
+
+“I am glad,” she returned, simply and absolutely without a trace
+of confusion or resentment. “I know that I rather like to look at
+you--too.”
+
+Another stunned silence. And this time I didn't notice any change in the
+temperature of my face; I was too busily engaged in searching the depths
+of those warm blue eyes.
+
+She didn't blush, or even drop her eyes. She smiled, however, a gentle,
+tremulous smile that showed some deep feeling behind her unwavering
+gaze.
+
+I recovered myself with a start, drew my chair up in front of her and
+took both her hands firmly in mine. Whereupon my resolution nearly
+deserted me. How warm and soft, and altogether adorable they were. I
+drew a long breath and began:
+
+“My dear--By the way, what is your name?”
+
+“I”--regretfully, after a moment's thought--“I don't know, Hobart.”
+
+“Quite so,” as though the fact was commonplace. “We will have to provide
+you with a name. Any suggestions?”
+
+Charlotte hesitated only a second. “Let's call her Ariadne; it was
+Harry's mother's name.”
+
+“That's so; fine! Do you like the name--Ariadne?”
+
+“Yes,” both pleased and relieved. At the same time she looked oddly
+puzzled, and I could see her lips moving silently as she repeated the
+name to herself.
+
+Not for an instant did I let go of those wonderful fingers. “What I
+want you to know, Ariadne, is that you have come into a world that is,
+perhaps, more or less like the one that you have just left. For all
+I know it is one and the same world, only, in some fashion not yet
+understood, you may have transported yourself to this place. Perhaps
+not.
+
+“Now, we call this a room, a part of the house. Outside is a street.
+That street is one of hundreds in a vast city, which consists of
+a multitude of such houses together with other and vastly larger
+structures. And these structures all rest upon a solid material which we
+call the ground or earth.
+
+“The fact that you understand our language indicates that either you
+have fallen heir to a body and a brain which are thoroughly in tune with
+ours, or else--and please understand that we know very little of this
+mystery--or else your own body has somehow become translated into a
+condition which answers the same purpose.
+
+“At any rate, you ought to comprehend what I mean by the term 'earth.'
+Do you?”
+
+“Oh, yes,” brightly. “I seem to understand everything you say, Hobart.”
+
+“Then there is a corresponding picture in your mind to each thought I
+have given you?”
+
+“I think so,” not so positively.
+
+“Well,” hoping that I could make it clear, “this earth is formed in a
+huge globe, part of which is covered by another material, which we term
+water. And the portions which are not so covered, and are capable of
+supporting the structures which constitute the city, we call by still
+another name. Can you supply that name?”
+
+“Continents,” without hesitation.
+
+“Fine!” This was a starter anyhow. “We'll soon have your memory working!
+
+“However, what I really began to say is this; each of these
+continents--and they are several in number--is inhabited by people more
+or less like ourselves. There is a vast number, all told. Each is either
+male or female, like ourselves--you seem to take this for granted,
+however--and you will find them all exceedingly interesting.
+
+“Now, in all fairness,” letting go her hands at last “you must
+understand that there are, among the people whom you have yet to see,
+great numbers who are far more--well, attractive, than I am.
+
+“And you must know,” even taking my gaze away, “that not all persons are
+as friendly as we. You will find some who are antagonistic to you, and
+likely to take advantage of--well, your unsophisticated viewpoint. In
+short”--desperately--“you must learn right away not to accept people
+without question; you must form the habit of reserving judgment, of
+waiting until you have more facts, before reaching an opinion of others.
+
+“You must do this as a matter of self-protection, and in the interests
+of your greatest welfare.”
+
+And I stopped.
+
+She seemed to be thinking over what I said. In the end she observed:
+“This seems reasonable. I feel sure that wherever I came from such
+advice would have fitted.
+
+“However”--smiling at me in a manner to which I can give no description
+other than affectionate--“I have no doubts about you, Hobart. I know you
+are absolutely all right.”
+
+And before I could recover from the bliss into which her statement threw
+me, she turned to Charlotte with “You too, Charlotte; I know I can trust
+you.”
+
+But when she looked at Jerome she commented: “I can trust you, Mister,
+too; almost as much, but not quite. If you didn't suspect me I could
+trust you completely.”
+
+Jerome went white. He spoke for the first time since the girl's coming.
+
+“How--how did you know that I suspected you?”
+
+“I can't explain; I don't know myself.” Then wistfully: “I wish you
+would stop suspecting me, Mister. I have nothing to conceal from you.”
+
+“I know it!” Jerome burst out, excitedly, apologetically. “I know it
+now! You're all right, I'm satisfied of that from now on!”
+
+She sighed in pure pleasure. And she offered one hand to Jerome. He took
+it as though it were a humming-bird's egg, and turned almost purple. At
+the same time the honest, fervid manliness which backed the detective's
+professional nature shone through for the first time in my knowledge of
+him. From that moment his devotion to the girl was as absolute as that
+of the fondest father who ever lived.
+
+Well, no need to detail all that was said during the next hour. Bit by
+bit we added to the girl's knowledge of the world into which she had
+emerged, and bit by bit there unfolded in her mind a corresponding image
+of the world from which she had come. And when, for an experiment, we
+took her out on the front porch and showed her the stars, we were fairly
+amazed at the thoughts they aroused.
+
+“Oh!” she cried, in sheer rapture. “I know what those are!” By now she
+was speaking fairly well. “They are stars!” Then: “They don't look the
+same. They're not outlined in the same way as I know. But they can't be
+anything else!”
+
+NOT OUTLINED THE SAME. I took this to be a very significant fact. What
+did it mean?
+
+“Look”--showing her the constellation Leo, on the ecliptic, and
+therefore visible to both the northern and southern hemispheres--“do you
+recognise that?”
+
+“Yes,” decisively. “That is, the arrangement; but not the appearance of
+the separate stars.”
+
+And we found this to be true of the entire sky. Nothing was entirely
+familiar to her; yet, she assured us, the stars could be nothing else.
+Her previous knowledge told her this without explaining why, and without
+a hint as to the reason for the dissimilarity.
+
+“Is it possible,” said I, speaking half to myself, “that she has come
+from another planet?”
+
+For we know that the sky, as seen from any of the eight planets in this
+solar system, would present practically the same appearance; but if
+viewed from a planet belonging to any other star-sun, the constellations
+would be more or less altered in their arrangement, because of the
+vast distance involved. As for the difference in the appearance of the
+individual stars, that might be accounted for by a dissimilarity in the
+chemical make-up of the atmosphere.
+
+“Ariadne, it may be you've come from another world!”
+
+“No,” seemingly quite conscious that she was contradicting me. For that
+matter there wasn't anything offensive about her kind of frankness. “No,
+Hobart. I feel too much at home to have come from any other world than
+this one.”
+
+Temporarily I was floored. How could she, so ignorant of other matters,
+feel so sure of this? There was no explaining it.
+
+We went back into the house. As it happened, my eye struck first the
+gramophone. And it seemed a good idea to test her knowledge with this.
+
+“Is this apparatus familiar to you?”
+
+“No. What is it for?”
+
+“Do you understand what is meant by the term 'music'?”
+
+“Yes,” with instant pleasure. “This is music.” She proceeded, without
+the slightest self-consciousness, to sing in a sweet clear soprano, and
+treated us to the chorus of “I Am Climbing Mountains!”
+
+“Good heavens!” gasped Charlotte. “What can it mean?”
+
+For a moment the explanation evaded me. Then I reasoned: “She must
+have a sub-conscious memory of what was being played just before she
+materialised.”
+
+And to prove this I picked out an instrumental piece which we had not
+played all the evening. It was the finale of the overture to “Faust”; a
+selection, by the way, which was a great favourite of Harry's and is one
+of mine. Ariadne listened in silence to the end.
+
+“I seem to have heard something like it before,” she decided slowly.
+“The melody, not the--the instrumentation. But it reminds me of
+something that I like very much.” Whereupon she began to sing for us.
+But this time her voice was stronger and more dramatic; and as for the
+composition--all I can say is it had a wild, fierce ring to it, like
+“Men of Harlech”; only the notes did not correspond to the chromatic
+scale. SHE SANG IN AN ENTIRELY NEW MUSICAL SYSTEM.
+
+“By George!” when she had done. “Now we HAVE got something! For the
+first time, we've heard some genuine, unadulterated Blind Spot stuff!”
+
+“You mean,” from Charlotte, excitedly, “that she has finally recovered
+her memory?”
+
+It was the girl herself who answered. She shot to her feet, and her face
+became transfigured with a wonderful joy. At the same time she blinked
+hurriedly, as though to shut off a sight that staggered her.
+
+“Oh, I remember!”--she almost sobbed in her delight--“it is all plain
+to me, now! I know who I am!”
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+THE RHAMDA AGAIN
+
+
+I could have yelled for joy. We were about to learn something of the
+Blind Spot--something that might help us to save Harry, and Chick, and
+the professor!
+
+Ariadne seemed to know that a great deal depended upon what she was
+about to tell us. She deliberately sat down, and rested her chin upon
+her hand, as though determining upon the best way of telling something
+very difficult to express.
+
+As for Charlotte, Jerry, and myself, we managed somehow to restrain our
+curiosity enough to keep silence. But we could not help glancing more or
+less wonderingly at our visitor. Presently I realised this, and got up
+and walked quietly about, as though intent upon a problem of my own.
+
+Which was true enough. I had come to a very startling conclusion--I,
+Hobart Fenton, had fallen in love!
+
+What was more, this affection of the heart had come to me, a very strong
+man, just as an affection of the lungs is said to strike such men--all
+of a sudden and hard. One moment I had been a sturdy, independent soul,
+intent upon scientific investigation, the only symptoms of sentimental
+potentialities being my perfectly normal love for my sister and for my
+old friend. Then, before my very eyes, I had been smitten thus!
+
+And the worst part of it was, I found myself ENJOYING the sensation. It
+made not the slightest difference to me that I had fallen in love with
+a girl who was only a step removed from a wraith. Mysteriously she had
+come to me; as mysteriously she might depart. I had yet to know from
+what sort of country she had come!
+
+But that made no difference. She was HERE, in the same house with me;
+I had held her hands; and I knew her to be very, very real indeed just
+then. And when I considered the possibility of her disappearing just as
+inexplicably as she had come--well, my face went cold, I admit. But at
+the same time I felt sure of this much--I should never love any other
+woman.
+
+The thought left me sober. I paused in my pacing and looked at her. As
+though in answer to my gaze she glanced up and smiled so affectionately
+that it was all I could do to keep from leaping forward and taking her
+right into my arms.
+
+I turned hastily, and to cover my confusion I began to hum a strain from
+the part of “Faust” to which I have referred. I hummed it through, and
+was beginning again, when I was startled to hear this from the girl:
+“Oh, then you are Hobart!”
+
+I wheeled, to see her face filled with a wonderful light.
+
+“Hobart,” she repeated, as one might repeat the name of a very dear one.
+“That--that music you were humming! Why, I heard Harry Wendel humming
+that yesterday!”
+
+I suppose we looked very stupid, the three of us, so dumbfounded that we
+could do nothing but gape incredulously at that extraordinary creature
+and her equally extraordinary utterance. She immediately did her best to
+atone for her sensation.
+
+“I'm not sure that I can make it clear,” she said, smiling dubiously,
+“but if you will use your imaginations and try to fill in the gaps in
+what I say you may get a fair idea of the place I have come from, and
+where Harry is.”
+
+We leaned forward, intensely alert. I shall never forget the pitiful
+eagerness in poor Charlotte's face. It meant more to her, perhaps, than
+to anyone else.
+
+At the precise instant I heard a sound, off in the breakfast room. It
+seemed to be a subdued knocking, or rather a pounding at the door.
+
+Frowning at the interruption, I stepped through the dining-room into
+the breakfast room, where the sounds came from. And I was not a little
+puzzled to note that the door to the basement was receiving the blows.
+
+Now I had been the last to visit the basement and had locked the
+door--from force of habit, I suppose--leaving the key in the lock.
+It was still there. And there is but one way to enter that basement:
+through this one door, and no other.
+
+“Who is it?” I called out peremptorily. No answer; only a repetition of
+the pounds.
+
+“What do you want?”--louder.
+
+“Open this door, quick!” cane a muffled reply.
+
+The voice was unrecognisable. I stood and thought quickly; then shouted:
+
+“Wait a minute, until I get a key!”
+
+I motioned to Charlotte. She tip-toed to my side. I whispered something
+in her ear; and she slipped off into the kitchen, there to phone Miss
+Clarke and warn her to notify her colleagues at once. And so, as I
+unlocked the door, I was fortified by the knowledge that I would be
+assisted by the combined mind-force of a score of highly developed
+intellects.
+
+I was little surprised, a second later, to see that the intruder was
+Rhamda Avec. What reason to expect anyone else?
+
+“How did you get down there?” I demanded. “Don't you realise that you
+are liable to arrest for trespass?”
+
+I said it merely to start conversation but it served only to bring a
+slight smile to the face of this professed friend of ours, for whom we
+felt nothing but distrust and fear.
+
+“Let us not waste time in trivialities, Fenton,” he rejoined gently. He
+brushed a fleck of cobweb from his coat. “By this time you ought to know
+that you cannot deal with me in any ordinary fashion.”
+
+I made no comment as, without asking my leave or awaiting an invitation,
+he stepped through into the dining-room and thence into the parlour. I
+followed, half tempted to strike him down from behind, but restrained
+more by the fact that I must spare him than from any compunctions.
+Seemingly he knew this as well as I, he was serenely at ease.
+
+And thus he stood before Jerome and Ariadne. The detective made a single
+exclamation, and furtively shifted his coat sleeves. He was getting that
+infernal breast gun into action. As for Ariadne, she stared at the new
+arrival as though astonished at first.
+
+When Charlotte returned, a moment later, she showed only mild surprise.
+She quietly took her chair and as quietly moved her hand so that the gem
+shone in full view of our visitor.
+
+But he gave her and the stone only a single glance, and then rested his
+eyes upon our new friend. To my anxiety, Ariadne was gazing fixedly at
+him now, her expression combining both agitation and a vague fear.
+
+It could not have been due entirely to his unusual appearance; for
+there was no denying that this grey-haired yet young-faced man with the
+distinguished, courteous bearing, looked even younger that night than
+ever before. No; the girl's concern was deeper, more acute. I felt an
+unaccountable alarm.
+
+From Ariadne to me the Rhamda glanced, then back again; and a quick
+satisfied smile came to his mouth. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
+And, keeping his gaze fixed upon her eyes, he remarked carelessly:
+
+“Which of these chairs shall I sit in, Fenton?”
+
+“This one,” I replied instantly, pointing to the one I had just quit.
+
+Smiling, he selected a chair a few feet away.
+
+Whereupon I congratulated myself. The man feared me, then; yet he ranked
+my mentality no higher than that! In other words, remarkably clever
+though he might be, and as yet unthwarted, he could by no means be
+called omnipotent.
+
+“For your benefit, Mr. Jerome, let me say that I phoned Miss Fenton and
+her brother a few days ago, and urged them to give up their notion of
+occupying this house or of attempting to solve the mystery that you
+are already acquainted with. And I prophesied, Mr. Jerome, that their
+refusal to accept my advice would be followed by events that would
+justify me.
+
+“They refused, as you know; and I am here tonight to make a final plea,
+so that they may escape the consequences of their wilfulness.”
+
+“You're a crook! And the more I see of you, Avec, the more easily I can
+understand why they turned you down!”
+
+“So you too, are prejudiced against me. I cannot understand this. My
+motives are quite above question, I assure you.”
+
+“Really!” I observed sarcastically. I stole a glance at Ariadne; her
+eyes were still riveted, in a rapt yet half-fearful abstraction, upon
+the face of the Rhamda. It was time I took her attention away.
+
+I called her name. She did not move her head, or reply. I said it
+louder: “Ariadne!”
+
+“What is it, Hobart?”--very softly.
+
+“Ariadne, this gentleman possesses a great deal of knowledge of the
+locality from which you came. We are interested in him, because we feel
+sure that, if he chose to, he could tell us something about our friends
+who--about Harry Wendel.” Why not lay the cards plainly on the table?
+The Rhamda must be aware of it all, anyhow. “And as this man has said,
+he has tried to prevent us from solving the mystery. It occurs to me,
+Ariadne, that you might recognise this man. But apparently--”
+
+She shook her head just perceptibly. I proceeded:
+
+“He is pleased to call his warning a prophecy; but we feel that a threat
+is a threat. What he really wants is that ring.”
+
+Ariadne had already, earlier in the hour, given the gem several curious
+glances. Now she stirred and sighed, and was about to turn her eyes
+from the Rhamda to the ring when he spoke again; this time in a voice as
+sharp as a steel blade:
+
+“I do not enjoy being misunderstood, much less being misrepresented, Mr.
+Fenton. At the same time, since you have seen fit to brand me in such
+uncomplimentary terms, suppose I state what I have to say very bluntly,
+so that there may be no mistake about it. If you do not either quit this
+house, or give up the ring--NOW--you will surely regret it the rest of
+your lives!”
+
+From the corner of my eye I saw Jerome moving slowly in his chair, so
+that he could face directly towards the Rhamda. His hands were ready for
+the swift, upward jerk which, I knew, would stifle our caller.
+
+As for my sister, she merely turned the ring so that the gem no longer
+faced the Rhamda; and with the other hand she reached out and grasped
+Ariadne's firmly.
+
+Avec sat with his two hands clasping the arms of his chair. His fingers
+drummed nervously but lightly on the wood. And then, suddenly, they
+stopped their motion.
+
+“Your answer, Fenton,” in his usual gentle voice. “I can give you no
+more time,” I did not need to consult Charlotte or Jerome. I knew what
+they would have said.
+
+“You are welcome to my answer. It is--no!”
+
+As I spoke the last word my gaze was fixed on the Rhamda's eyes. He, on
+the other hand, was looking towards Ariadne. And at the very instant an
+expression, as of alarm and sorrow, swept into the man's face.
+
+My glance jumped to Ariadne. Her eyes were closed, her face suffused;
+she seemed to be suffocating. She gave a queer little sound, half gasp
+and half cry.
+
+Simultaneously Jerome's hands shot into the air. The room shivered
+with the stunning report of his breast gun. And every pellet struck the
+Rhamda and burst.
+
+A look of intense astonishment came into his face. He gave Jerome a
+fleeting glance, almost of admiration; then his nostrils contracted with
+pain as the gas attacked his lungs.
+
+Another second, and each of us were reeling with the fumes. Jerome
+started toward the window, to raise it, then sank back into his chair.
+And when he turned round--
+
+He and I and Charlotte saw an extraordinary thing. Instead of succumbing
+to the gas, Rhamda Avec somehow recovered himself. And while the rest
+of us remained still too numbed to move or speak, he found power to do
+both.
+
+“I warned you plainly, Fenton,” as though nothing in particular had
+happened. “And now see what you have brought upon the poor child!”
+
+I could only roll my head stupidly, to stare at Ariadne's now senseless
+form.
+
+“As usual, Fenton, you will blame me for it. I cannot help that. But it
+may still be possible for you to repent of your folly and escape your
+fate. You are playing with terrible forces. If you do repent, just
+follow these instructions”--laying a card on the table--“and I will see
+what I can do for you. I wish you all good night.”
+
+And with that, pausing only to make a courtly bow to Charlotte, Rhamda
+Avec turned and walked deliberately, dignifiedly from the room, while
+the two men and a woman stared helplessly after him and allowed him to
+go in peace.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+THE LIVING DEATH
+
+
+As soon as the fresh air had revived us somewhat, we first of all
+examined Ariadne. She still lay unconscious, very pale, and alarmingly
+limp. I picked her up and carried her into the next room, where
+there was a sofa, while Jerome went for water and Charlotte brought
+smelling-salts.
+
+Neither of these had any effect. Ariadne seemed to be scarcely
+breathing; her heart beat only faintly, and there was no response to
+such other methods as friction, slapping, or pinching of fingernails.
+
+“We had better call a doctor,” decided Charlotte promptly, and went to
+the phone.
+
+I picked up the card which the Rhamda had left. It contained simply his
+name, together with one other word--the name of a morning newspaper.
+Evidently he meant for us to insert an advertisement as soon as we were
+ready to capitulate.
+
+“Not yet!” the three of us decided, after talking it over. And we waited
+as patiently as we could during the fifteen minutes that elapsed before
+the telephoning got results.
+
+It brought Dr. Hansen, who, it may be remembered, was closely identified
+with the Chick Watson disappearance. He made a rapid but very careful
+examination.
+
+“It has all the appearance of a mild electric shock. What caused it,
+Fenton?”
+
+I told him. His eyes narrowed when I mentioned Avec, then widened in
+astonishment and incredulity as I related the man's inexplicable effect
+upon the girl, and his strange immunity to the poison gas. But the
+doctor asked nothing further about our situation, proceeding at once to
+apply several restoratives. All were without result. As a final resort,
+he even rigged up an electrical connection, making use of some coils
+which I had upstairs, and endeavoured to arouse the girl in that
+fashion. Still without result.
+
+“Good Lord, Hansen!” I finally burst out, when he stood back, apparently
+baffled. “She's simply GOT to be revived! We can't allow her to succumb
+to that scoundrel's power, whatever it is!”
+
+“Why not a blood transfusion?” I asked eagerly, as an idea came to me.
+“I'm in perfect condition. What about it? Go to it, doc!”
+
+He slowly shook his head. And beyond a single searching glance into
+my eyes, wherein he must have read something more than I had said, he
+regretfully replied:
+
+“This is a case for a specialist, Fenton. Everything considered, I
+should say that she is suffering from a purely mental condition; but
+whether it had a physical or a psychic origin, I can't say.”
+
+In short, he did not feel safe about going ahead with any really heroic
+measures until a brain specialist was called in.
+
+I had a good deal of confidence in Hansen. And what he said sounded
+reasonable. So we agreed to his calling in a Dr. Higgins--the same man,
+in fact, who was too late in reaching the house to save Chick on that
+memorable night a year before.
+
+His examination was swift and convincingly competent. He went over the
+same ground that Hansen had covered, took the blood pressure and other
+instrumental data, and asked us several questions regarding Ariadne's
+mentality as we knew it. Scarcely stopping to think it over, Higgins
+decided:
+
+“The young woman is suffering from a temporary dissociation of brain
+centres. Her cerebrum does not co-act with her cerebellum. In other
+words, her conscious mind, for lack of means to express itself, is for
+the time being dormant as in sleep.
+
+“But it is not like ordinary sleep. Such is induced by fatigue of the
+nerve channels. This young woman's condition is produced by shock; and
+since there was no physical violence, we must conclude that the shock
+was psychic.
+
+“In that case, the condition will last until one of two things occurs;
+either she must be similarly shocked back into sensibility--and I can't
+see how this can happen, Fenton, unless you can secure the co-operation
+of the man to whom you attribute the matter--or she must lie that way
+indefinitely.”
+
+“Indefinitely!” I exclaimed, sensing something ominous. “You mean--”
+
+“That there is no known method of reviving a patient in such a
+condition. It might be called psychic catalepsy. To speak plainly,
+Fenton, unless this man revives her, she will remain unconscious until
+her death.”
+
+I shuddered. What horrible thing had come into our lives to afflict us
+with so dreadful a prospect?
+
+“Is--is there no hope, Dr. Higgins?”
+
+“Very little”--gently but decisively. “All I can assure you is that she
+will not die immediately. From the general state of her health, she will
+live at least seventy-two hours. After that--you must be prepared for
+the worst at any moment.”
+
+I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an awful
+situation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda--
+
+I hunted up Jerome. I said:
+
+“Jerry, the thing is plainly up to you and me. Higgins gives us three
+days. Day after tomorrow morning, if we haven't got results by that
+time, we've got to give in and put that ad in the paper. But I
+don't mean to give in, Jerry! Not until I've exhausted every other
+possibility!”
+
+“What're you going to do?” he asked thoughtfully.
+
+“Work on that ring. I was a fool not to get busy sooner. As for the
+rest, that's up to you! You've got to get yourself on the Rhamda's trail
+as soon as you can, and camp there! The first chance you get, ransack
+his room and belongings, and bring me every bit of data you find.
+Between him and the ring, the truth ought to come out.”
+
+“All right. But don't forget that--” pointing to the unexplained spot
+on the wood of the doorway. “You've got a mighty important clue there,
+waiting for you to analyse it.”
+
+And he went and got his hat, and left the house. His final remark was
+that we wouldn't see him back until he had something to report about our
+man.
+
+Five o'clock the next morning found my sister and me out of our beds and
+desperately busy. She spent a good deal of time, of course in caring for
+Ariadne. The poor girl showed no improvement at all; and we got scant
+encouragement from the fact that she looked no worse.
+
+Not a sound escaped her lips; her eyes remained closed; she gave no sign
+of life, save her barely perceptible breathing. It made me sick at heart
+just to look at her; so near, and yet so fearfully far away.
+
+But when Charlotte could spare any time she gave me considerable help in
+what I was trying to do. One great service she was rendering has already
+been made clear: she wore the ring constantly, thus relieving me of
+the anxiety of caring for it. I was very cautious not to have it in my
+possession for more than a few minutes at a time.
+
+My first move was to set down, in orderly fashion, the list of the gem's
+attributes. I grouped together the fluctuating nature of its pale blue
+colour, its power of reproducing those who had gone into the Blind Spot,
+its combination of perfect solidity with extreme lightness; its quality
+of coldness to the touch of a male, and warmth to that of a female; and
+finally its ability to induct--I think this is the right term--to induct
+sounds out of the unknown. This last quality might be called spasmodic
+or accidental, whereas the others were permanent and constant.
+
+Now, to this list I presently was able to add that the gem possessed no
+radioactive properties that I could detect with the usual means. It was
+only when I began dabbling in chemistry that I learned things.
+
+By placing the gem inside a glass bell, and exhausting as much air as
+possible from around it, the way was cleared for introducing other forms
+of gases. Whereupon I discovered this:
+
+The stone will absorb any given quantity of hydrogen gas.
+
+In this respect it behaves analogously to that curious place on
+the door-frame. Only, it absorbs gas, no liquid; and not any gas,
+either--none but hydrogen.
+
+Now, obviously this gem cannot truly absorb so much material, in the
+sense of retaining it as well. The simple test of weighing it afterwards
+proves this; for its weight remains the same in any circumstances.
+
+Moreover, unlike the liquids which I poured into the wood and saw
+afterwards in the basement, the gas does not escape back into the air. I
+kept it under the Dell long enough to be sure of that. No; that hydrogen
+is, manifestly, translated into the Blind Spot.
+
+Learning nothing further about the gem at that time, I proceeded to
+investigate the trim of the door. I began by trying to find out the
+precise thickness of that liquid-absorbing layer.
+
+To do this I scraped off the “skin” of the air-darkened wood. This layer
+was .02 of an inch thick. And--that was the total amount of the active
+material!
+
+I put these scrapings through a long list of experiments. They told
+me nothing valuable. I learned only one detail worth mentioning; if a
+fragment of the scrapings be brought near to the Holcomb gem--say, to
+within two inches--the scrapings will burst into flame. It is merely
+a bright, pinkish flare, like that made by smokeless rifle-powder. No
+ashes remain. After that we took care not to bring the ring near the
+remaining material on the board.
+
+All this occurred on the first day after Ariadne was stricken. Jerome
+phoned to say that he had engaged the services of a dozen private
+detectives, and expected to get wind of the Rhamda any hour. Both Dr.
+Hansen and Dr. Higgins called twice, without being able to detect any
+change for the better or otherwise in their patient.
+
+That evening Charlotte and I concluded that we could not hold out any
+longer. We must give in to the Rhamda. I phoned for a messenger, and
+sent an advertisement to the newspaper which Avec had indicated.
+
+The thing was done. We had capitulated.
+
+The next development would be another and triumphant call from the
+Rhamda, and this time we would have to give up the gem to him if we were
+to save Ariadne.
+
+The game was up.
+
+But instead of taking the matter philosophically, I worried about it all
+night. I told myself again and again that I was foolish to think about
+something that couldn't be helped. Why not forget it, and go to sleep?
+
+But somehow I couldn't. I lay wide awake till long past midnight,
+finding myself growing more and more nervous. At last, such was the
+tension of it all, I got up and dressed. It was then about one-thirty,
+and I stepped out on the street for a walk.
+
+Half an hour later I returned, my lungs full of fresh air, hoping that I
+could now sleep. It was only a hope. Never have I felt wider awake than
+I did then.
+
+Once more--about three--I took another stroll outside. I seemed
+absolutely tireless.
+
+Each time that I had turned back home I seemed to feel stronger than
+ever, more wakeful. Finally I dropped the idea altogether, went to the
+house, and left a note for Charlotte, then walked down to the waterfront
+and watched some ships taking advantage of the tide. Anything to pass
+the time.
+
+And thus it happened, that, about eight o'clock--breakfast time at 288
+Chatterton Place--I returned to the house, and sat down at the table
+with Charlotte. First, however, I opened the morning paper to read our
+little ad.
+
+It was not there. It had not been printed.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
+
+
+I dropped the paper in dismay. Charlotte looked up, startled, gave me a
+single look, and turned pale,
+
+“What--what's the matter?” she stammered fearfully.
+
+I showed her. Then I ran to the phone. In a few seconds I was talking to
+the very man who had taken the note from the messenger the day before.
+
+“Yes, I handed it in along with the rest,” he replied to my excited
+query. Then--“Wait a minute,” said he; and a moment later added: “Say,
+Mr. Fenton, I've made a mistake! Here's the darned ad on the counter; it
+must have slipped under the blotter.”
+
+I went back and told Charlotte. We stared at one another blankly. Why
+in the name of all that was baffling had our ad “slipped” under that
+blotter? And what were we to do?
+
+This was the second day!
+
+Well, we did what we could. We arranged for the insertion of the same
+notice in each of the three afternoon papers. There would still be time
+for the Rhamda to act, if he saw it.
+
+The hours dragged by. Never did time pass more slowly; and yet, I
+begrudged every one. So much for being absolutely helpless.
+
+About ten o'clock the next morning--that is to say, today; I am writing
+this the same evening--the front door bell rang. Charlotte answered and
+in a moment came back with a card. It read:
+
+SIR HENRY HODGES
+
+I nearly upset the table in my excitement. I ran into the hall. Who
+wouldn't? Sir Henry Hodges! The English scientist about whom the whole
+world was talking! The most gifted investigator of the day; the most
+widely informed; of all men on the face of the globe, the best equipped,
+mentally, to explore the unknown! Without the slightest formality I
+grabbed his hand and shook it until he smiled at my enthusiasm.
+
+“My dear Sir Henry,” I told him, “I'm immensely glad to see you! The
+truth is, I've been hoping you'd be interested in our case; but I didn't
+have the nerve to bother you with it!”
+
+“And I,” he admitted in his quiet way, “have been longing to take a hand
+in it, ever since I first heard of Professor Holcomb's disappearance.
+Didn't like to offer myself; understood that the matter had been hushed
+up and--”
+
+“For the very simple reason,” I explained, “that there was nothing to be
+gained by publicity. If we had given the public the facts, we would have
+been swamped with volunteers to help us. I didn't know whom to confide
+in, Sir Henry; couldn't make up my mind. I only knew that one such man
+as yourself was just what I needed.”
+
+He overlooked the compliment, and pulled out the newspaper from his
+pocket. “Bought this a few minutes ago. Saw your ad, and jumped to the
+conclusion that matters had reached an acute stage. Let me have the
+whole story, my boy, as briefly as you can.”
+
+He already knew the published details. Also, he seemed to be
+acquainted--in some manner which puzzled me--with much that had not been
+printed. I sketched the affair as quickly as I could, making it clear
+that we were face to face with a crisis. When I wound up by saying that
+it was Dr. Higgins who gave Ariadne three days, ending about midnight,
+in which she might recover if we could secure Rhamda Avec, he said
+kindly:
+
+“I'm afraid you made a mistake, my boy, in not seeking some help. The
+game has reached a point where you cannot have too many brains on your
+side. Time is short for reinforcements!”
+
+He heartily approved of my course in enlisting the aid of Miss Clarke
+and her colleagues. “That is the sort of thing you need! People with
+mentality; plenty of intellectual force!” And he went on to make
+suggestions.
+
+As a result, within an hour and a half our house was sheltering five
+more persons.
+
+Miss Clarke has already been introduced. She was easily one of the ten
+most advanced practitioners in her line. And she had the advantage of
+a curiosity that was interested in everything odd, even though she
+labelled it “non-existent.” She said it helped her faith in the real
+truths to be conversant with the unreal.
+
+Dr. Malloy was from the university, an out-and-out materialist, a
+psychologist who made life interesting for those who agreed with William
+James. His investigations of abnormal psychology are world-acknowledged.
+
+Mme. Le Fabre, we afterwards learned, had come from Versailles
+especially to investigate the matter that was bothering us. She
+possessed no mediumistic properties of her own but was a staunch
+proponent of spiritualism, believing firmly in immortality and the
+omnipotence of “translated” souls.
+
+Professor Herold is most widely known as the inventor of certain
+apparatus connected with wireless. But he is also considered the West's
+most advanced student of electrical and radio-active subjects.
+
+I was enormously glad to have this man's expert, high-tension knowledge
+right on tap.
+
+The remaining member of the quintet which Sir Henry advised me to summon
+requires a little explanation. Also, I am obliged to give him a name
+not his own; for it is not often that brigadier-generals of the United
+States army can openly lend their names to anything so far removed
+apparently from militarism as the searching of the occult.
+
+Yet we knew that this man possessed a power that few scientists have
+developed; the power of co-ordination, of handling and balancing great
+facts and forces, and of deciding promptly how best to meet any given
+situation. Not that we looked for anything militaristic out of the Blind
+Spot; far from it. We merely knew not what to expect, which was exactly
+why we wanted to have him with us; his type of mind is, perhaps, the
+most solidly comforting sort that any mystery-bound person can have at
+his side.
+
+By the time these five had gathered, Jerome had neither returned
+nor telephoned. There was not the slightest trace of Rhamda Avec; no
+guessing as to whether he had seen the ad. It was then one o'clock in
+the afternoon. Only six hours ago! It doesn't seem possible.
+
+So there were eight of us--three women and five men--who went upstairs
+and quietly inspected the all but lifeless form of Ariadne and
+afterwards gathered in the library below.
+
+All were thoroughly familiar with the situation. Miss Clarke calmly
+commented to the effect that the entire Blind Spot affair was due wholly
+and simply to the cumulative effects of so many, many subjects; the
+result, in other words, of error.
+
+Dr. Malloy was equally outspoken in his announcement that he proposed
+to deal with the matter from the standpoint of psychic aberration. He
+mentioned dissociated personalities, group hypnosis, and so on. But he
+declared that he was open to conviction, and anxious to get any and all
+facts.
+
+Sir Henry had a good deal of difficulty in getting Mme. Le Fabre to
+commit herself. Probably she felt that, since Sir Henry had gone on
+record as being doubtful of the spiritistic explanation of psychic
+phenomena, she might get into a controversy with him. But in the end
+she stated that she expected to find our little mystery simply a novel
+variation on what was so familiar to her.
+
+As might be supposed, General Hume had no opinion. He merely expressed
+himself as being prepared to accept any sound theory, or portions of
+such theories as might be advanced, and arrive at a workable conclusion
+therefrom. Which was exactly what we wanted of him.
+
+Of them all, Professor Herold showed the most enthusiasm. Perhaps this
+was because, despite his attainments, he is still young. At any rate, he
+made it clear that he was fully prepared to learn something entirely new
+in science. And he was almost eager to adjust his previous notions and
+facts to the new discoveries.
+
+When all these various viewpoints had been cleared up, and we felt that
+we understood each other, it was inevitable that we should look to Sir
+Henry to state his position. This one man combined a large amount of the
+various, specialised abilities for which the others were noted, and they
+all knew and respected him accordingly. Had he stood and theorised half
+the afternoon, they would willingly have sat and listened. But instead
+he glanced at his watch, and observed:
+
+“To me, the most important development of all was hearing the sound of a
+dog's bark coming from the ring. As I recall the details, the sound was
+emitted just after the gem had been submitted to considerable handling,
+from Miss Fenton's fingers to her brother's and back again. In other
+words, it was subjected to a mixture of opposing animal magnetisms.
+Suppose we experiment further with it now.”
+
+Charlotte slipped the gem from her finger and passed it around. Each of
+us held it for a second or two; after which Charlotte clasped the ring
+tightly in her palm, while we all joined hands.
+
+It was, as I have said, broad daylight; the hour, shortly after one.
+Scarcely had our hands completed the circuit than something happened.
+
+From out of Charlotte's closed hand there issued an entirely new sound.
+At first it was so faint and fragmentary that only two of us heard it.
+Then it became stronger and more continuous, and presently we were all
+gazing at each other in wonderment.
+
+For the sound was that of footsteps.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+DIRECT FROM PARADISE
+
+
+The sound was not like that of the walking of the human. Nor was it such
+as an animal would make. It was neither a thud nor a pattering, but more
+like a scratching shuffle, such as reminded me of nothing that I had
+ever heard before.
+
+Next moment, however, there came another sort of sound, plainly audible
+above the footsteps. This was a thin, musical chuckle which ended in a
+deep, but faint, organ-like throb. It happened only once.
+
+Immediately it was followed by a steady clicking, such as might be made
+by gently striking a stick against the pavement; only sharper. This
+lasted a minute, during which the other sounds ceased.
+
+Once more the footsteps. They were not very loud, but in the stillness
+of that room they all but resounded.
+
+Presently Charlotte could stand it no longer. She placed the ring on the
+table, where it continued to emit those unplaceable sounds.
+
+“Well! Do--do you people,” stammered Dr. Malloy, “do you people all hear
+THAT?”
+
+Miss Clarke's face was rather pale. But her mouth was firm. “It is
+nothing,” said she, with theosophical positiveness. “You must not
+believe it--it is not the truth of--”
+
+“Pardon me,” interrupted Sir Henry, “but this isn't something to argue
+about! It is a reality; and the sooner we all admit it, the better.
+There is a living creature of some kind making that sound!”
+
+“It is the spirit of some two-footed creature,” asserted Mme. Le Fabre,
+plainly at her ease. She was on familiar ground now. “If only we had a
+medium!”
+
+Abruptly the sounds left the vicinity of the ring. At first we could
+not locate their new position. Then Herold declared that they came
+from under the table; and presently we were all gathered on the floor,
+listening to those odd little sounds, while the ring remained thirty
+inches above, on the top of the table!
+
+It may be that the thing, whatever it was, did not care for such a
+crowd. For shortly the shuffling ceased. And for a while we stared and
+listened, scarcely breathing, trying to locate the new position.
+
+Finally we went back to our chairs. We had heard nothing further.
+Nevertheless, we continued to keep silence, with our ears alert for
+anything more.
+
+“Hush!” whispered Charlotte all of a sudden. “Did you hear that?” And
+she looked up toward the ceiling.
+
+In a moment I caught the sound. It was exceedingly faint, like the
+distant thrumming of a zither. Only it was a single note, which did
+not rise and fall, although there seemed a continual variation in its
+volume.
+
+Unexpectedly the other sounds came again, down under the table. This
+time we remained in our seats and simply listened. And presently Sir
+Henry, referring to the ring, made this suggestion:
+
+“Suppose we seal it up, and see whether it inducts the sound then as
+well as when exposed.”
+
+This appealed to Herold very strongly; the others were agreeable; so I
+ran upstairs to my room and secured a small screw-top metal canister,
+which I knew to be airtight. It was necessary to remove the stone from
+the ring, in order to get it into the opening in the can. Presently this
+was done; and while our invisible visitor continued his scratchy little
+walking as before, I screwed the top of the can down as tightly as I
+could.
+
+Instantly the footsteps halted.
+
+I unscrewed the top a trifle. As instantly the stepping was resumed.
+
+“Ah!” cried Herold. “It's a question of radioactivity, then! Remember Le
+Bon's experiments, Sir Henry?”
+
+But Miss Clarke was sorely mystified by this simple matter, and herself
+repeated the experiments. Equally puzzled was Mme. Le Fabre. According
+to her theory, a spirit wouldn't mind a little thing like a metal box.
+Of them all, Dr. Malloy was the least disturbed; so decidedly so that
+General Hume eyed him quizzically.
+
+“Fine bunch of hallucinations, doctor.”
+
+“Almost commonplace,” retorted Malloy.
+
+Presently I mentioned that the Rhamda had come from the basement on the
+night that Ariadne had materialised; and I showed that the only possible
+route into the cellar was through the locked door in the breakfast
+room, since the windows were all too small, and there was no other door.
+Query: How had the Rhamda got there? Immediately they all became alert.
+As Herold said:
+
+“One thing or the other is true; either there is something downstairs
+which has escaped you, Fenton, or else Avec is able to materialise in
+any place he chooses. Let's look!”
+
+We all went down except Charlotte, who went upstairs to stay with
+Ariadne. By turns, each of us held the ring. And as we unlocked the
+basement door we noted that the invisible, walking creature had reached
+there before us.
+
+Down the steps went those unseen little feet, jumping from one step to
+the next just ahead of us all the way. When within three or four steps
+of the bottom, the creature made one leap do for them all.
+
+I had previously run an extension cord down into the basement, and both
+compartments could now be lighted by powerful electric lamps. We gave
+the place a quick examination.
+
+“What's all this newly turned earth mean?” inquired Sir Henry, pointing
+to the result of Jerome's efforts a few months before. And I explained
+how he and Harry, on the chance the basement might contain some clue
+as to the localisation of the Blind Spot, had dug without result in the
+bluish clay.
+
+Sir Henry picked up the spade, which had never been moved from where
+Jerome had dropped it. And while I went on to tell about the pool of
+liquids, which for some unknown reason had not seeped into the soil
+since forming there, the Englishman proceeded to dig vigorously into the
+heap I had mentioned.
+
+The rest of us watched him thoughtfully. We remembered that Jerome's
+digging had been done after Queen's disappearance. And the dog had
+vanished in the rear room, the one in which Chick and Dr. Holcomb had
+last been seen. Now, when Jerome had dug the clay from the basement
+under this, the dining-room, he had thrown it through the once concealed
+opening in the partition; had thrown the clay, that is, in a small heap
+under the library. And--after Jerome had done this the phenomena had
+occurred in the library, not in the dining-room.
+
+“By Jove!” ejaculated General Hume, as I pointed this out. “This may be
+something more, you know, that mere coincidence!”
+
+Sir Henry said nothing, but continued his spading. He paid attention to
+nothing save the heap that Jerome had formed. And with each spadeful he
+bent over and examined the clay very carefully.
+
+Miss Clarke and Mme. Le Fabre both remained very calm about it all.
+Each from her own viewpoint regarded the work as more or less a waste of
+time. But I noticed that they did not take their eyes from the spade.
+
+Sir Henry stopped to rest. “Let me,” offered Herold; and went on as the
+Englishman had done, holding up each spadeful for inspection. And it was
+thus that we made a strange discovery.
+
+We all saw it at the same time. Embedded in the bluish earth was a
+small, egg-shaped piece of light-coloured stone. And protruding from its
+upper surface was a tiny, blood-red pebble, no bigger than a good-sized
+shot.
+
+Herold thrust the point of his spade under the stone, to lift it up.
+Whereupon he gave a queer exclamation.
+
+“Well, that's funny!” holding the stone up in front of us. “That little
+thing's as heavy as--as--it's HEAVIER than lead!”
+
+Sir Henry picked the stone off the spade. Immediately the material
+crumbled in his hands, as though rotting, so that it left only the
+small, red pebble intact. Sir Henry weighed this thoughtfully in his
+palm, then without a word handed it around.
+
+We all wondered at the pebble. It was most astonishingly heavy. As I
+say, it was no bigger than a fair-sized shot, yet it was vastly heavier.
+
+Afterward we weighed it, upstairs, and found that the trifle weighed
+over half a pound. Considering its very small bulk, this worked out to
+be a specific gravity of 192.6 or almost ten times as heavy as the same
+bulk of pure gold. And gold is heavy.
+
+Inevitably we saw that there must be some connection between this
+unprecedentedly heavy speck of material and that lighter-than-air gem
+of mystery. For the time being we were careful to keep the two apart. As
+for the unexplained footsteps, they were still slightly audible, as the
+invisible creatures moved around the cellar.
+
+At last we turned to go. I let the others lead the way. Thus I was
+the last to approach the steps; and it was at that moment that I felt
+something brush against my foot.
+
+I stooped down. My hands collided with the thing that had touched me.
+And I found myself clutching--
+
+Something invisible--something which, in that brilliant light, showed
+absolutely nothing to my eyes. But my hands told me I was grasping a
+very real thing, as real as my fingers themselves.
+
+I made some sort of incoherent exclamation. The others turned and peered
+at me.
+
+“What is it?” came Herold's excited voice.
+
+“I don't know!” I gasped. “Come here.”
+
+But Sir Henry was the first to reach me. Next instant he, too, was
+fingering the tiny, unseen object. And such was his iron nerve and
+superior self-control, he identified it almost at once.
+
+“By the lord!”--softly. “Why, it's a small bird! Come here.”
+
+Another second and they were all there. I was glad enough of it; for,
+like a flash, with an unexpectedness that startles me even now as I
+think of it--
+
+The thing became visible. Right in my grasp, a little fluttering bird
+came to life.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+SOLVED
+
+
+It was a tiny thing, and most amazingly beautiful. It could not have
+stood as high as a canary; and had its feathers been made of gleaming
+silver they could not have been lovelier. And its black-plumed head, and
+long, blossom-like tail, were such as no man on earth ever set eyes on.
+
+Like a flash it was gone. Not more than a half a second was this
+enchanting apparition visible to us. Before we could discern any more
+than I have mentioned, it not only vanished but it ceased to make any
+sounds whatever. And each of us drew a long breath, as one might after
+being given a glimpse of an angel.
+
+Right now, five or six hours after the events I have just described, it
+is very easy for me to smile at my emotions of the time. How startled
+and mystified I was! And--why not confess it?--just a trifle afraid.
+Why? Because I didn't understand! Merely that.
+
+At this moment I sit in my laboratory upstairs in that house, rejoicing
+in having reached the end of the mystery. For the enigma of the Blind
+Spot is no more. I have solved it!
+
+Now twenty feet away, in another room, lies Ariadne. Already there is
+a faint trace of colour in her cheeks, and her heart is beating more
+strongly. Another hour, says Dr. Higgins, and she will be restored to
+us!
+
+The time is seven p.m. I didn't sleep at all last night; I haven't slept
+since. For the past five hours we have been working steadily on the
+mystery, ever since our finding that little, red pebble in the basement.
+The last three hours of the time I have been treating Ariadne, using
+means which our discoveries indicated. And in order to keep awake I have
+been dictating this account to a stenographer.
+
+This young lady, a Miss Dibble, is downstairs, where her typewriter will
+not bother. Yes, put that down, too, Miss Dibble; I want people to know
+everything! She has a telephone clamped to her ears, and I am talking
+into a microphone which is fixed to a stand on my desk.
+
+On that desk are four switches. All are of the four-way two-pole type;
+and from them run several wires, some going to one end of the room,
+where they are attached to the Holcomb gem. Others, running to the
+opposite end, making contact with the tiny heavy stone we found in the
+basement. Other wires run from the switches to lead bands around my
+wrists. Also, between switches are several connections--one circuit
+containing an amplifying apparatus. By throwing these switches in
+various combinations, I can secure any given alteration of forces, and
+direct them where I choose.
+
+For there are two other wires. These run from my own lead bracelets to
+another room; a pair clamped around the wrists of Ariadne.
+
+For I, Hobart Fenton, am now a living, human transforming station. I am
+converting the power of the Infinite into the Energy of Life. And I am
+transmitting that power directly out of the ether, as conduced through
+these two marvellous stones, back into the nervous system of the girl I
+love. Another hour, and she will Exist!
+
+It was all so very simple, now that I understand it. And yet--well, an
+absolutely new thing is always very hard to put into words.
+
+To begin with, I must acknowledge the enormous help which I have had
+from my friends: Miss Clarke, Mme. Le Fabre, General Hume, Dr. Malloy,
+and Herold. These people are still in the house with me; I think they
+are eating supper. I've already had mine. Really, I can't take much
+credit to myself for what I have found out. The others supplied most of
+the facts. I merely happened to fit them together; and, because of my
+relationship to the problem, am now doing the heroic end of the work.
+
+As for Harry--he and Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson and even the dog--I shall
+have them out of the Blind Spot inside of twelve hours. All I need is
+a little rest. I'll go straight to bed as soon as I finish reviving
+Ariadne; and when I wake up, we'll see who's who, friend Rhamda!
+
+I'm too exuberant to hold myself down to the job of telling what I've
+discovered. But it's got to be done. Here goes!
+
+I practically took my life in my hands when I first made connection.
+However, I observed the precaution of rigging up a primary connection
+direct from the ring to the pebble, running the wire along the floor
+some distance away from where I sat. No ill effects when I ventured into
+the line of force; so I began to experiment with the switches.
+
+That precautionary circuit was Herold's idea. His, also, the amplifying
+apparatus. The mental attitude was Miss Clarke's, modified by Dr.
+Malloy. The lead bracelets were Mme. Le Fabre's suggestion; they
+work fine. Sir Henry was the one who pointed out the advantage of the
+microphone I am using. If my hands become paralysed I can easily call
+for help to my side.
+
+Well, the first connection I tried resulted in nothing. Perfectly blank.
+Then I tried another and another, meanwhile continually adjusting the
+amplifier; and as a result I am now able, at will, to do either or all
+of the following:
+
+(1) I can induct sounds from the Blind Spot; (2) I can induct light, or
+visibility; or (3) any given object or person, in toto.
+
+And now to tell how. No, I'm just sleepy, not weak.
+
+Let's see; where was I? Oh, yes; those connections. They've got to be
+done just right, with the proper tension in the coils, and the correct
+mental attitude, to harmonise. I wish I wasn't so tired!
+
+One moment! No, no; I'm all right. I--Queer! By Jove, that's a funny
+thing just now! I must have got an inducted current from another wire,
+mixed with these! And--I got a glimpse into the Blind Spot!
+
+A great--No; it's a--What a terrific crowd! Wonder what they're all--By
+Jove, it's--Good Lord, it's he! And Chick! No, I'm not wandering! I'm
+having the experience of my life!
+
+Now--THAT'S the boy! Don't let 'em bluff you! Good! Good! Tell 'em where
+to head in! That's the boy! Rub it in! I don't know what you're up to,
+but I'm with you!
+
+Er--there's a big crowd of ugly looking chaps there, and I can't make it
+out--Just a moment--a moment. What does it mean, anyway? Just--I--
+
+DANGER, by Heaven! THAT'S what it means!
+
+No; I'm all right. The--thing came to an end, abruptly. That's all;
+everything normal again; the room just the same as it was a moment ago.
+Hello! I seem to have started something! The wire down on the floor has
+commenced to hum! Oh, I've got my eye on it, and if anything--
+
+Miss Dibble! Tell Herold to come! On the run! Quick! Did you? Good!
+don't stop writing! I--
+
+There's Chick! CHICK! How did you get here? What? YOU CAN'T SEE ME!
+Why--
+
+Chick! Listen! Listen, man! I've gone into the Blind Spot! Write this
+down! The connection--
+
+That's Herold! Herold, this is Chick Watson! Listen, now, you
+two! The--the--I can hardly--it's from No. 4 to--to--to the
+ring--then--coil--
+
+Both switches, Chick! Ah! I've--
+
+NOTE BY MISS L. DIBBLE.--Just as Mr. Fenton made the concluding remark
+as above, there came a loud crash, followed by the voice of Mr. Herold.
+Then, there came a very loud clang from a bell; just one stroke. After
+which I caught Mr. Fenton's voice:
+
+“Herold--Chick can tell you what IT wants us to do--”
+
+And with that, his voice trailed off into nothing, and died away. As for
+Mr. Fenton himself, I am informed that he has utterly disappeared; and
+in his stead there now exists a man who is known to Dr. Hansen as Chick
+Watson.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+THE MAN FROM SPACE
+
+
+Before starting the conclusion of the Blind Spot mystery it may be
+just as well for the two publicists who are bringing it to the press to
+follow Hobart Fenton's example and go into a bit of explanation.
+
+The two men who wrote the first two parts were participants, and
+necessarily writing almost in the present tense. While they could give
+an accurate and vivid account of their feelings and experiences, they
+could only guess at what lay in the future, at the events that would
+unravel it all.
+
+But the present writers have the advantage of working, of seeing, of
+weighing in the retrospect. They know just where they are going.
+
+The coming of Chick Watson brought new perspective. Hitherto we had been
+looking into the darkness. Whatever had been caught in the focus of the
+Spot had become lost to our five senses.
+
+Yet, facts are facts. It was no mere trickery that had caught Dr.
+Holcomb in the beginning. One by one, men of the highest standards and
+character had been either victims or witness to its reality and power.
+
+So the coming of Watson may well be set down as one of the deciding
+moments of history. He who had been the victim a year before was
+returning through the very Spot that had engulfed him. He was the herald
+of the great unknown, an ambassador of the infinite itself.
+
+It will be remembered that of all the inmates of the house, Dr. Hansen
+was the only one who had a personal acquaintance with Watson. One year
+before the doctor had seen him a shadow--wasted, worn, exhausted. He had
+talked with him on that memorable night in the cafe. Well he remembered
+the incident, and the subject of that strange conversation--the secret
+of life that had been discovered by the missing Dr. Holcomb. And Dr.
+Hansen had pondered it often since.
+
+What was the force that was pulsing through the Blind Spot? It had
+reached out on the earth, and had plucked up youth as well as wisdom.
+THIS was the first time it had ever given up that which it had taken!
+
+It was Watson, sure enough; but it was not the man he had known one year
+before. Except for the basic features Hansen would not have recognized
+him; the shadow was gone, the pallor, the touch of death. He was hale
+and radiant; his skin had the pink glow of alert fitness; except for
+being dazed, he appeared perfectly natural. In the tense moment of his
+arrival the little group waited in silence. What had he to tell them?
+
+But he did not see them at first. He groped about blindly, moving slowly
+and holding his hands before him. His face was calm and settled; its
+lines told decision. There was not a question in any mind present but
+that the man had come for a purpose.
+
+Why could he not see? Perhaps the light was too dim. Some one thought to
+turn on the extra lights.
+
+It brought the first word from Watson. He threw up both arms before his
+face; like one shutting out the lightning.
+
+“Don't!” he begged. “Don't! Shut off the lights; you will blind me!
+Please; please! Darken the room!”
+
+Sir Henry sprang to the switch. Instantly the place went to shadow;
+there was just enough light from the moon to distinguish the several
+forms grouped in the middle of the room. Dr. Hansen proffered a chair.
+
+“Thank you! Ah! Dr. Hansen! You are here--I had thought--This is much
+better! I can see fairly well now. You came very near to blinding me
+permanently! You didn't know. It's the transition.” Then: “And yet--of
+course! It's the moon! THE MOON!”
+
+He stopped. There was a strange wistfulness in the last word. And
+suddenly he rose to his feet. He turned in gladness, as though to drink
+in the mellow flow of the radiance.
+
+“The moon! Gentlemen--doctor--who are these people? This is the house
+of the Blind Spot! And it is the moon--the good old earth! And San
+Francisco!”
+
+He stopped again. There was a bit of indecision and of wonder mixed
+with his gladness. The stillness was only broken by the scarcely audible
+voice of Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+“Now we KNOW! It is proven. The sceptics have always asked why the
+spirits work only in the half light. We know now.”
+
+Watson looked to Dr. Hansen. “Who is this lady? Who are these others?”
+
+“Can you see them?”
+
+“Perfectly. It is the lady in the corner; she thinks--”
+
+“That you are a spirit!”
+
+Watson laughed. “I a spirit? Try me and see!”
+
+“Certainly,” asserted Mme. Le Fabre. “You are out of the Blind Spot. I
+know; it will prove everything!”
+
+“Ah, yes; the Spot.” Watson hesitated. Again the indecision. There was
+something latent that he could not recall; though conscious, part of his
+mind was still in the apparent fog that lingers back into slumber.
+
+“I don't understand,” he spoke. “Who are you?”
+
+It was Sir Henry this time. “Mr. Watson, we are a sort of committee.
+This is the house at 288 Chatterton Place. We are after the great secret
+that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb. We were summoned by Hobart Fenton.”
+
+Consciousness is an enigma. Hitherto Watson had been almost inert;
+his actions and manner of speech had been mechanical. That it was the
+natural result of the strange force that had thrown him out, no one
+doubted. The mention of Hobart Fenton jerked him into the full vigour of
+wide-awake thinking; he straightened himself.
+
+“Hobart! Hobart Fenton! Where is he?”
+
+“That we do not know,” answered Sir Henry. “He was here a moment ago. It
+is almost too impossible for belief. Perhaps you can tell us.”
+
+“You mean--”
+
+“Exactly. Into the Blind Spot. One and the other; your coming was
+coincident with his going!”
+
+Chick raised up. Even in that faint light they could appreciate the full
+vigour of his splendid form. He was even more of an athlete than in his
+college days, before the Blind Spot took him. And when he realised what
+Sir Henry had said he held up one magnificent arm, almost in the manner
+of benediction:
+
+“Hobart has gone through? Thank Heaven for that!”
+
+It was a puzzle. True, in that little group there was represented the
+accumulated wisdom of human effort. With the possible exception of the
+general, there was not a sceptic among them. They were ready to explain
+almost anything--but this.
+
+In the natural weakness of futility they had come to associate the
+aspect of death or terror with the Blind Spot. Yet, here was Watson!
+Watson, alive and strong; he was the reverse of what they had
+subconsciously expected.
+
+“What is this Blind Spot?” inquired Sir Henry evenly. “And what do you
+mean by giving thanks that Fenton has gone into it?”
+
+“Not now. Not one word of explanation until--What time is it?” Watson
+broke off to demand.
+
+They told him. He began to talk rapidly, with amazing force and
+decision, and in a manner whose sincerity left no chance for doubt.
+
+“Then we have five hours! Not one second to lose. Do what I say, and
+answer my questions!” Then: “We must not fail; one slip, and the whole
+world will be engulfed--in the unknown! Turn on the lights.”
+
+There was that in the personality and the vehemence of the man that
+precluded opposition. Out of the Blind Spot had come a dynamic quality,
+along with the man; a quickening influence that made Watson swift, sure,
+and positive. Somehow they knew it was a moment of Destiny.
+
+Watson went on:
+
+“First, did Hobart Fenton open the Spot? Or was it a period? By 'period'
+I mean, did it open by chance, as it did when it caught Harry and me?
+Just what did Hobart do? Tell me!”
+
+It was a singular question. How could they answer it? However, Dr.
+Malloy related as much as he knew of what Hobart had done; his wires
+and apparatus were now merely a tangled mass of fused metals. Nothing
+remained intact but the blue gem and the red pebble.
+
+“I see. And this pebble: you found it by digging in the cellar, I
+suppose.”
+
+How did he know that? Dr. Hansen brought that curiously heavy little
+stone and laid it in Watson's hand. The newcomer touched it with his
+finger, and for a brief moment he studied it. Then he looked up.
+
+“It's the small one,” he stated. “And you found it in the cellar. It was
+very fortunate; the opening of the Spot was perhaps a little more than
+half chance. But it was wonderfully lucky. It let me out. And with the
+help of God and our own courage we may open it again, long enough to
+rescue Hobart, Harry, and Dr. Holcomb. Then--we must break the chain--we
+must destroy the revelation; we must close the Spot forever!”
+
+Small wonder that they couldn't understand what he meant. Dr. Hansen
+thought to cut in with a practical question:
+
+“My dear Chick, what's inside the Spot? We want to know!”
+
+But it was not Watson who answered. It was Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+“Spirits, of course.”
+
+Watson gave a sudden laugh. This time he answered:
+
+“My dear lady, if you know what I know, and what Dr. Holcomb has
+discovered, you would ask YOURSELF a question or so. Possibly you
+yourself are a spirit!”
+
+“What!” she gasped. “I--a spirit!”
+
+“Exactly. But there is no time for questions. Afterwards--not now. Five
+hours, and we must--”
+
+Someone came to the door. It was Jerome. At the sight of Watson he
+stopped, clutching the stub of his cigar between his teeth. His grey
+eyes took in the other's form from head to shoe leather.
+
+“Back?” he inquired. “What did you find out, Watson? They must have fed
+you well over yonder!”
+
+And Jerome pointed toward the ceiling with his thumb. It wasn't in his
+dour nature to give way to enthusiasm; this was merely his manner of
+welcome. Watson smiled.
+
+“The eats were all right, Jerome, but not all the company. You're just
+the man I want. We have little time; none to spare for talk. Are you in
+touch with Bertha Holcomb?”
+
+The detective nodded.
+
+Watson took the chair that Fenton had so strangely vacated and reached
+for paper and pencil. Once or twice he stopped to draw a line, but
+mostly he was calculating. He referred constantly to a paper he took
+from his pocket. When he was through he spread his palm over what he had
+written.
+
+“Jerome!”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“You are no longer connected with headquarters, I presume. But--can you
+get men?”
+
+“If need be.”
+
+“You will need them!” Just then Watson noticed the uniform of General
+Hume. “Jerome, can you give this officer a bodyguard?”
+
+It was both unusual and lightning-sudden. Nevertheless, there was
+something in Watson's manner that called for no challenge; something
+that would have brooked no refusal. And the general, although a sceptic,
+was acting solely from force of habit when he objected:
+
+“It seems to me, Watson, that you--”
+
+Those who were present are not likely to forget it. Some men are born,
+some rise, to the occasion; but Watson was both. He was clear-cut,
+dominant, inexorable. He levelled his pencil at the general.
+
+“It SEEMS to you! General, let me ask you: If your country's safety were
+at stake, would you hesitate to throw reinforcements into the breach?”
+
+“Hardly.”
+
+“All right. It's settled. Take care of your red tape AFTERWARDS.”
+
+He wheeled to the detective. “Jerome, this is a sketch of the
+compartments of Dr. Holcomb's safe. Not the large one in his house, but
+the small one in his laboratory. Go straight to Dwight Way. Give this
+note,” indicating another paper, “to Bertha Holcomb. Tell her that her
+father is safe, and that I am out of the Blind Spot. Tell her you have
+come to open the laboratory safe. I've written down the combination. If
+it doesn't work use explosives; there's nothing inside which force can
+harm. In the compartment marked 'X' you will find a small particle about
+the size of a pea, wrapped in tin-foil, and locked in a small metal box.
+You will have to break the box. As for the contents, once you see the
+stone you can't mistake it; it will weigh about six pounds. Get it, and
+guard it with your life!”
+
+“All right.”
+
+Jerome put Watson's instructions in his wallet, at the same time
+glancing about the room.
+
+“Where is Fenton?” he asked.
+
+It was Watson who answered. He gave us the first news that had ever come
+from the Blind Spot. He spoke with firm deliberation, as though in full
+realisation of the sensation:
+
+“Hobart Fenton has gone through the Blind Spot. Just now he is right
+here in this room.”
+
+Sir Henry jumped.
+
+“In this room! Is that what you said, Watson?”
+
+The other ignored him.
+
+“Jerome, you haven't a minute to lose! You and the general; bring that
+stone back to this house at ANY cost! Hurry!”
+
+In another moment Jerome and Hume were gone. And few people, that day,
+suspected the purport of that body of silent men who crossed over the
+Bay of San Francisco. They were grim, and trusted, and under secret
+orders. They had a mission, did they but know it, as important as any
+in history. But they knew only that they were to guard Jerome and the
+general at all hazards. One peculiarly heavy stone, “the size of a pea”!
+How are we ever to calculate its value?
+
+As for the group remaining with Watson, not one of them ever dreamed
+that any danger might come out of the Blind Spot. Its manifestations had
+been local and mostly negative. No; the main incentive of their interest
+had been simply curiosity.
+
+But apparently Watson was above them all. He paid no further attention
+to them for a while; he bent at Fenton's desk and worked swiftly. At
+length he thrust his papers aside.
+
+“I want to see that cellar,” he announced. “That is, the point where you
+found that red pebble!”
+
+Down in the basement, Sir Henry gave the details. When he came to
+mention the various liquids which Fenton had poured into the woodwork
+upstairs Watson examined the pool intently.
+
+“Quite so. They would come out here--naturally.”
+
+“Naturally!”
+
+Sir Henry could not understand. His perplexity was reflected in the
+faces of Herold, the two physicians, Dr. Malloy, Miss Clarke, and Mme.
+Le Fabre--and Charlotte spoke for them all:
+
+“Can't you explain, Mr. Watson? The woodwork had nothing whatever to do
+with the cellar. There was the floor between, just as you see it now.”
+
+“Naturally,” Watson repeated. “It could be no other place! It was on its
+way to the other side, but it could go only half-way. Simply a matter
+of focus, you know. I beg pardon; you must hold your curiosity a little
+longer.”
+
+He began measuring. First he located the line across the floorjoists
+overhead, where rested the partition separating the dining-room from
+the parlour. Finding the middle of this line, he dropped an improvised
+plumb-line to the ground; and from this spot as centre, using a string
+about ten feet long, he described a circle on the earth. Then, referring
+to his calculations, he proceeded to locate several points with small
+stakes pressed into the soil. Then he checked them off and nodded.
+
+“It's even better than the professor thought. His theory is all but
+proven. If Jerome and Hume can deliver the other stone without accident,
+we can save those now inside the Spot.” Then, very solemnly: “But we
+face a heavy task. It will be another Thermopylae. We must hold the gate
+against an occult Xerxes, together with all his horde.”
+
+“The hosts of the dead!” exclaimed Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+“No; the living! Just give me time, Madame, and you will see something
+hitherto undreamed of. As for your theory--tomorrow you may doubt
+whether you are living or dead! In other words, Dr. Holcomb has
+certainly proved the occult by material means. He has done it with a
+vengeance. In so doing he has left us in doubt as to ourselves; and
+unless he discovers the missing factor within the next few hours we are
+going to be in the anomalous position of knowing plenty about the next
+world, but nothing about ourselves.”
+
+He paused. He must have known that their curiosity could not hold out
+much longer. He said:
+
+“Now, just one thing more, friends, and I can tell you everything, while
+we are waiting for Jerome and the general to return. But first I must
+see the one who preceded me out of the spot.”
+
+“Ariadne!” from Charlotte, in wonder.
+
+“Ariadne!” exclaimed Watson. He was both puzzled and amazed. “Did you
+call her--Ariadne?”
+
+“She is upstairs,” cut in Dr. Higgins.
+
+“I must see her!”
+
+A minute or two later they stood in the room where the girl lay. The
+coverlet was thrown back somewhat revealing the bare left arm and
+shoulder, and the delicately beautiful face upon the pillow. Her golden
+hair was spread out in riotous profusion. The other hand was just
+protruding from the coverlet, and displayed a faint red mark, showing
+where Hobart's bracelet had been fastened at the moment he disappeared.
+
+Charlotte stepped over and laid her hand against the girl's cheek.
+“Isn't she wonderful!” she murmured.
+
+But Dr. Higgins looked to Watson.
+
+“Do you know her?”
+
+The other nodded. He stooped over and listened to her breathing. His
+manner was that of reverence and admiration. He touched her hand.
+
+“I see how it must have happened. Precisely what I experienced, only--”
+ Then: “You call her Ariadne?”
+
+“We had to call her something,” replied Charlotte. “And the name--it
+just came, I suppose.”
+
+“Perhaps. Anyhow, it was a remarkably good guess. Her true name is the
+Aradna.”
+
+“THE Aradna? Who--what is she?”
+
+“Just that: the Aradna. She is one of the factors that may save us.
+And on earth we would call her queen.” Then, without waiting for the
+inevitable question, Watson said:
+
+“Your professional judgment will soon come to the supreme test, Dr.
+Higgins. She is simply numbed and dazed from coming through the Spot.”
+ Charlotte had already described to him the girl's arrival. “The mystery
+is that she was permitted an hour of rationality before this came upon
+her. I wonder if Hobart's vitality had anything to do with it?”--half to
+himself. “As for the Rhamda”--he smiled--“he is merely interested in
+the Spot; that is all. He would never harm the Aradna; he had nothing
+whatever to do with her condition. We were mistaken about the man.
+Anyway, it is the Spot of Life that interests us now.”
+
+“The Spot of Life,” repeated Sir Henry. “Is that--”
+
+“Yes; the Blind Spot, as it is known from the other side. It overtops
+all your sciences, embraces every cult, and lies at the base of all
+truth. It is--it is everything.”
+
+“Explain!”
+
+Watson turned to the head upon the pillow. He ventured to touch the
+cheek, with a trace of tenderness in his action and of wistfulness near
+to reverence. It was not love; it was rather as one might touch a fairy.
+In both spirit and substance she was truly of another world. Watson gave
+a soft sigh and looked up at the Englishman.
+
+“Yes, I can explain. Now that I know she is well, I shall tell you all
+I know from the beginning. It's certainly your turn to ask questions.
+I may not be able to tell you all that you want to know; but at least I
+know more than any other person this side of the Spot. Let us go down to
+the library.”
+
+He glanced at a clock. “We have nearly five hours remaining. Our test
+will come when we open the Spot. We must not only open it, but we must
+close it at all costs.”
+
+They had reached the lower hall. At the front door Watson paused and
+turned to the others.
+
+“Just a moment. We may fail tonight. In case we do, I would like one
+last look at my own world--at San Francisco.”
+
+He opened the door. The rest hung back; though they could not
+understand, they could sense, vaguely, the emotion of this strange man
+of brave adventure. The scene, the setting, the beauty, were all akin
+to the moment. Watson, stood bareheaded, looking down at the blinking
+lights of the city of the Argonauts. The moon in a starlit sky was
+drifting through a ragged lace of cloud. And over it all was a momentary
+hush, as though the man's emotion had called for it.
+
+No one spoke. At last Watson closed the door. And there was just the
+trace of tears in his eyes as he spoke:
+
+“Now my friends--” And led the way into the parlour.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+THE OCCULT WORLD
+
+
+“In telling what I know,” began Watson, “I shall use a bit of a preface.
+It's necessary, in a way, if you are to understand me; besides, it will
+give you the advantage of looking into the Blind Spot with the clear
+eyes of reason. I intend to tell all, to omit nothing. My purpose in
+doing this is that, in case we should fail tonight, you will be able to
+give my account to the world.”
+
+It was a strange introduction. His listeners exchanged thoughtful
+glances. But they all affirmed, and Sir Henry hitched his chair almost
+impatiently.
+
+“All right, Mr. Watson. Please proceed.”
+
+“To begin with,” said Watson, “I assume that you all know of Dr.
+Holcomb's announcement concerning the Blind Spot. You remember that he
+promised to solve the occult; how he foretold that he would prove it not
+by immaterial but by the very material means; that he would produce the
+fact and the substance.
+
+“Now, the professor had promised to deliver something far greater than
+he had thought it to be. At the same time, what he knew of the
+Blind Spot was part conjecture and part fact. Like his forebears and
+contemporaries, he looked upon man as the real being.
+
+“But it's a question, now, as to which is reality and which is not.
+There is not a branch of philosophy that looks upon the question in that
+light. Bishop Berkeley came near and he has been followed by others; but
+they all have been deceived by their own sophistry. However, except for
+the grossest materialists, all thinkers take cognizance of a hereafter.
+
+“No one dreamed of a Blind Spot and what it may lead to, what it might
+contain. We are five-sensed; we interpret the universe by the measure of
+five yardsticks. Yet, the Blind Spot takes even those away; the more we
+know, it seems, the less certain we are of ourselves. As I said to Mme.
+Le Fabre, it is a difficult question to determine, after all, just who
+are the ghosts. At any rate, I KNOW”--and he paused for effect--“I know
+that there are uncounted millions who look upon us and our workings as
+entirely supernatural!
+
+“Remember that what I have to tell you is just as real as your own lives
+have been since babyhood.
+
+“It was slightly over a year ago that my last night on the earth
+arrived.
+
+“I had gone out for the evening, in the forlorn hope of meeting a
+friend, of having some slight taste of pleasure before the end came.
+
+“For several days I had been labouring under a sort of premonition,
+knowing that my life was slowly seeping away and that my vitality was
+slipping, bit by bit, to what I thought must be death. Had I then known
+what I know now, I could have saved myself. But if I had done it, if I
+had saved myself, we would never have found Dr. Holcomb.
+
+“Perhaps it was the same fate that led me to Harry, that night. I don't
+know. Nevertheless, if there is any truth in what I have learned on
+the other side of the Blind Spot, it would seem that there is something
+higher than mere fate. I had never believed in luck; but when everything
+works out to a fraction of a breath, one ceases to be sceptical on the
+question of destiny and chance. _I_ say, everything that happened that
+night was FORCED from the other side. In short, my giving that ring to
+Harry was simply a link in the chain of circumstances. It just had to
+be; the PROPHECY would not have had it otherwise.”
+
+Without stopping to explain what he meant by the word “prophecy,” Watson
+went on:
+
+“That's what makes it puzzling. I have never been able to understand
+how every bit has dovetailed with such exactness. We--you and I--are
+certainly not supernatural; and yet, on the other side of the Spot, the
+proof is overwhelmingly convincing.
+
+“I was very weak that night. So weak that it is difficult for me to
+remember. The last I recollect was my going to the back of the house;
+to the kitchen, I think. I had a light in my hands. The boys were in the
+front room, waiting. One of them had opened a door some yards away from
+where I stood.
+
+“Coming as it did, on the instant, it is difficult to describe. But I
+knew it instinctively for what it was: the dot of blue on the ceiling,
+and the string of light. Then, a sensation of falling, like dropping
+into space itself. It is hard to describe the horrifying terror of
+plunging head on from an immense height to a plain at a vastly lower
+level.
+
+“And that's all that I remember--from this side.” [Footnote: NOTE.--In
+justice to Mr. Watson, the present writers have thought it best at this
+stage to transpose the story from the first to the third person. Any
+narrative, unless it is negative in its material, is hard to give in
+the first person; for where the narrator has played an active, positive
+part, he must either curb himself or fall under the slur of braggadocio.
+Yet, the world wants the details exactly as they happened; hence the
+transposition. EDITORS.]
+
+Watson opened his eyes.
+
+The first thing was light and a sense of great pain. There was a
+pressure at the back of the eyeballs, a poignant sensation not unlike
+a knife-thrust; that, and a sudden fear of madness, of drivelling
+helplessness.
+
+The abrupt return of consciousness in such a condition is not easy to
+imagine. After all he had gone through, this strange sequel must have
+been terribly puzzling to him. He was a man of good education, well
+versed in psychology; in the first rush of consciousness he tried, as
+best he could, to weigh himself up in the balance of aberration. And it
+was this very fact that gave him his reassurance; for it told him that
+he could think, could reason, could count on a mind in full function.
+
+But he could not see. The pain in his eyeballs was blinding. There was
+nothing he could distinguish; everything was woven together, a mere
+blaze of wonderful, iridescent, blazing coloration.
+
+But if he could not see, he could feel. The pain was excruciating.
+He closed his eyes and fell to thinking, curiously enough, that the
+experience was similar to what he had gone through when upon learning to
+swim, he had first opened his eyes under the water. It had been under
+a blazing sun. The pain and the colour--it was much the same, only
+intensified.
+
+Then he knew that he was very tired. The mere effort of that one thought
+had cost him vitality. He dropped back into unconsciousness, such as
+was more insensibility than slumber. He had strange dreams, of people
+walking, of women, and of many voices. It was blurred and indistinct,
+yet somehow not unreal. Then, after an unguessable length of time--he
+awoke.
+
+He was much stronger. The lapse may have been very long; he could not
+know. But the pain in his eyes was gone; and he ventured to open the
+lids again in the face of the light that had been so baffling. This time
+he could see; not distinctly, but still enough to assure him of reality.
+By closing his eyes at intervals he was able to rest them and to
+accustom them gradually to the new degree of light. And after a bit he
+could see plainly.
+
+He was on a cot, and in a room almost totally different from any that
+he had ever seen before. The colour of the walls, even, was dissimilar;
+likewise the ceiling. It was white, in a way, and yet unlike it; neither
+did it resemble any of the various tints; to give it a name that he
+afterward learned--alna--implies but little. It was utterly new to him.
+
+Apparently he was alone. The room was not large; about the size of an
+ordinary bedroom. And after the first novelty of the unplaceable colour
+had worn off he began to take stock of his own person.
+
+First, he was covered by the finest of bed clothing, thick but
+exceedingly light. There was no counterpane, but two blankets and two
+sheets; and none of them corresponded to any colour or material he had
+ever known. He only knew that their tints were light rather than dark.
+
+Next, he moved his hands out from under the coverings, and held them up
+before his eyes. He was immensely puzzled. He naturally expected to see
+the worn, emaciated hands which had been his on that dramatic night; but
+the ones before him were plump, normal, of a healthy pink. The wrists
+likewise were in perfect condition, also his arms. He could not account
+for this sudden return to health, of the vigour he had known before he
+began to wear the ring. He lay back pondering.
+
+Presently he fell to examining his clothes. There were two garments made
+of a silk-like textile, rather heavy as to weight, but exceedingly soft
+as to touch. They were slightly darker than the bed clothing. In a way
+they were much like pyjamas, except that both were designed to be merely
+slipped into place, without buttons or draw-strings. That is, they were
+tailored to fit snugly over the shoulders and waist, while loose enough
+elsewhere.
+
+Then he noticed the walls of the room. They were after a simple,
+symmetrical style; coved--to use an architectural expression--or curved,
+where the corner would come with a radius much larger than common,
+amounting to four or five feet; so that a person of ordinary height
+could not stand close to the wall without stooping. Where the coved
+portion flowed into the perpendicular of the wall there was a broad
+moulding, like a plate rail, which acted as a support for the hanging
+pictures.
+
+Watson counted four of these pictures. Instinctively he felt that they
+might give him a valuable clue as to his whereabouts. For, while his
+mind had cleared enough for him to feel sure that he had truly come
+through the Spot, he knew nothing more. Where was he? What would the
+pictures tell?
+
+The first was directly before his eyes. In size perhaps two by three
+feet, with its greater length horizontal, it was more of a landscape
+than a portrait. And Watson's eagerness for the subject itself made him
+forget to note whether the work was mechanically or manually executed.
+
+For it revealed a girl--about ten or twelve--very slightly draped,
+enjoying a wild romp with a most extraordinary creature. It was this
+animal that made the picture amazing; there was no subtle significance
+in the scene--there was nothing remarkable about the technique. The
+whole interest, for Watson, was in the animal.
+
+It was a deer; perfect and beautiful, but cast in a Lilliputian mould.
+It stood barely a foot high, the most delicate thing he had ever looked
+upon. Mature in every detail of its proportion, the dainty hoofs, the
+fragile legs, smooth-coated body, and small, wide-antlered head--a
+miniature eight-pointer--made such a vision as might come to the dreams
+of a hunter.
+
+Chick rose up in bed, in order to examine it more closely. Immediately
+he fell back again slightly dizzy. He closed his eyes.
+
+Shortly he began examining the other pictures. Two of these were
+simple flower studies. Watson scarcely knew which puzzled him most; the
+blossoms or their containers. For the vases were like large-sized loving
+cups, broad as to body, and provided with a handle on either side. Their
+colours were unfamiliar. As for the blossoms--in one study the blooms
+were a half-dozen in number, and more like Shasta daisies than anything
+else. But their colour was totally unlike, while they possessed wide,
+striped stamens that gave the flowers an identity all their own. In
+the other vase were several varieties, and every one absolutely
+unrecognisable.
+
+On the opposite side of the room was something fairly familiar. At
+first glance it seemed a simple basket of kittens, done in black and
+white--something like crayon, and yet resembling sepia. Alongside the
+basket, however, was a spoon, one end resting on the edge of a saucer.
+And it was the size of the spoon that commanded Chick's attention;
+rather, the size of the kittens, any one of which could have curled up
+comfortably in the bowl of the spoon! Judging relatively, if it were an
+ordinary tablespoon, then the kittens were smaller than the smallest of
+mice.
+
+Chick gave it up. Presently he began speculating about the time. He
+decided that, whatever the hour might be, it was still daylight. In one
+wall of the room was a large, oval window, of a material which may as
+well be called glass, frosted, so as to permit no view of what might lie
+outside. But it allowed plenty of light to enter.
+
+Cut in the opposite wall was a doorway, hung with a curtain instead of
+a door. This curtain was a gauzy material, but its maroonlike shade
+completely hid all view of whatever lay beyond.
+
+Chick waited and listened. Hitherto he had not heard a sound. There was
+not even that subtle, mixed hum from the distance that we are accustomed
+to associate with silence. He felt certain that he was inside the Blind
+Spot; but as to just where that locality might lie, he knew as little
+as before. He knew only that he in a building of some sort. Where, and
+what, was the building?
+
+Just then he noticed a cord dangling from the ceiling. It came down to
+within six inches of his head. He gave it a pull.
+
+Whereupon he heard a faint, musical jangling in the distance. He tried
+to analyse the sound. It was not bell-like; perhaps the word “tinkling”
+ would serve better. Provisionally, Chick placed the key at middle D.
+
+A moment later he heard steps outside the curtain. They were very soft
+and light and deliberate; and almost at the same instant a delicate
+white hand moved the curtain aside.
+
+It was a woman. Chick lay back and wondered. Although not beautiful she
+was very good to look at, with large blue eyes of a deep tenderness and
+sympathy, even features, and a wonderful fold of rich brown hair held in
+place by a satiny net.
+
+She started when she saw Chick's wide open eyes; then smiled, a motherly
+smile and compassionate. She was dressed in a manner at once becoming
+and odd, to one unaccustomed, in a gown that draped the entire figure,
+yet left the right arm and shoulder bare. Chick noticed that arm
+especially; it was white as marble, moulded full, and laced with fine
+blue veins. He had never seen an arm like that. Nor such a woman. She
+might have been forty.
+
+She came over to the bed and placed a hand on Chick's forehead. Again
+she smiled, and nodded.
+
+“How do you feel?” she asked.
+
+Now this is a strange thing; Watson could not account for it. For,
+although she did not speak English, yet he could understand her quite
+well. At the moment it seemed perfectly obvious; afterward, the fact
+became amazing.
+
+He answered in the same way, his thoughts directing his lips. And he
+found that as long as he made no conscious attempt to select the words
+for his thought, he could speak unhesitatingly.
+
+“Where am I?”
+
+She smiled indulgently, but did not answer.
+
+“Is this the--Blind Spot?”
+
+“The Blind Spot! I do not understand.”
+
+“Who are you?”
+
+“Your nurse. Perhaps,” soothingly, “you would like to talk to the
+Rhamda.”
+
+“The Rhamda!”
+
+“Yes. The Rhamda Geos.”
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+THE PLUNGE
+
+
+The woman left him. For a while Chick reflected upon what she had said.
+In full rush of returning vigour his mind was working clearly and with
+analytical exactness.
+
+For the first time he noticed a heaviness in the air, overladen,
+pregnant. He became aware of a strange, undercurrent of life; of an
+exceedingly faint, insistent sound, pulse-like and rhythmical, like the
+breathing undertones of multitudes. He was a city man, and accustomed
+to the murmuring throbs of a metropolitan heart. But this was very
+different.
+
+Presently, amid the strangeness, he could distinguish the tinkle of
+elfin bells, almost imperceptible, but musical. The whole air was laden
+with a subdued music, lined, as it were, with a golden vibrancy of
+tintinnabulary cadence--distant, subdued, hardly more than a whisper,
+yet part of the air itself.
+
+It gave him the feeling that he was in a dream. In the realms of
+the subconscious he had heard just such sounds--exotic and
+unearthly--fleeting and evanescent.
+
+The notion of dreams threw his mind into sudden alertness. In an instant
+he was thinking systematically, and in the definite realisation of his
+plight.
+
+The woman had spoken of “the Rhamda.” True, she had added a qualifying
+“Geos,” but that did not matter. Whether Geos or Avec, it was still the
+Rhamda. By this time Watson was convinced that the word indicated some
+sort of title--whether doctor, or lord, or professor, was not important.
+What interested Chick was identity. If he could solve that he could get
+at the crux of the Blind Spot.
+
+He thought quickly. Apparently, it was Rhamda Avec who had trapped Dr.
+Holcomb. Why? What had been the man's motive? Watson could not say.
+He only knew the ethics of the deed was shaded with the subtleness
+of villainy. That behind it all was a purpose, a directing force and
+intelligence that was inexorable and irresistible.
+
+One other thing he knew; the Rhamda Avec came out of the region in which
+he, Watson, now found himself. Rather, he could have come from nowhere
+else. And Watson could feel certain that somewhere, somehow, he would
+find Dr. Holcomb.
+
+In that moment Watson determined upon his future course of action. He
+decided to state nothing, intimate nothing, either by word or deed, that
+might in any manner incriminate or endanger the professor. It was for
+him to learn everything possible and to do all he could to gain his
+points, without giving a particle of information in return. He must play
+a lone hand and a cautious one--until he found Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The fact of his position didn't appall him. Somehow, it had just the
+opposite effect. Perhaps it was because his strength had come back, and
+had brought with it the buoyancy that is natural to health. He could
+sense the vitality that surrounded him, poised, potential, waiting only
+the proper attitude on his part to become an active force. Something
+tremendous had happened to him, to make him feel like that. He was ready
+for anything.
+
+Five minutes passed. Watson was alert and ready when the woman returned,
+together with a companion. She smiled kindly, and announced:
+
+“The Rhamda Geos.”
+
+At first Chick was startled. There was a resemblance to Rhamda Avec
+that ran almost to counterpart. The same refinement and elegance, the
+fleeting suggestion of youth, the evident age mingled with the same
+athletic ease and grace of carriage. Only he was somewhat shorter. The
+eyes were almost identical, with the peculiar quality of the iris and
+pupil that suggested, somehow, a culture inherited out of the centuries.
+He was dressed in a black robe, such as would befit a scholar.
+
+He smiled, and held out a hand. Watson noted the firm clasp, and the
+cold thrill of magnetism.
+
+“You wish to speak with me?”
+
+The voice was soft and modulated, resonant, of a tone as rich as bronze.
+
+“Yes. Where am I--sir?”
+
+“You do not know?”
+
+It seemed to Watson that there was real astonishment in the man's eyes.
+As yet it had not come to Chick that he himself might be just as much
+a mystery as the other. The only question in his mind at the moment was
+locality.
+
+“Is this the Blind Spot?”
+
+“The Blind Spot!”--with the same lack of comprehension that the woman
+had shown. “I do not understand you.”
+
+“Well, how did I get here?”
+
+“Oh, as to that, you were found in the Temple of the Leaf. You were
+lying unconscious on the floor.”
+
+“A temple! How did I get there, sir? Do you know?”
+
+“We only know that a moment before there was nothing; next
+instant--you.”
+
+Watson thought. There was a subconscious sound that still lingered in
+his memory; a sound full-toned, flooding, enveloping. Was there any
+connection--
+
+“'The Temple of the Leaf,' you call it, sir. I seem to remember having
+heard a bell. Is there such a thing in that temple?”
+
+The Rhamda Geos smiled, his eyes brightening. “It is sometimes called
+the Temple of the Bell.”
+
+“Ah!” A pause, and Watson asked, “Where is this temple? And is this room
+a part of the building?”
+
+“No. You are in the Sar-Amenive Hospital, an institution of the
+Rhamdas.”
+
+The Rhamdas! So there were several of them. A sort of society, perhaps.
+
+“In San Francisco?”
+
+“No. San Francisco! Again I fail to understand. This locality is known
+as the Mahovisal.”
+
+“The Mahovisal!” Watson thought in silence for a moment. He noted the
+extremely keen interest of the Rhamda, the ultra-intelligent flicker of
+the eyes, the light of query and critical analysis. “You call this the
+Mahovisal, sir? What is it: town, world or institution?”
+
+The other smiled again. The lines about his sensitive mouth were
+susceptible of various interpretations: emotion, or condescension, or
+the satisfying feeling that comes from the simple vindication of some
+inner conviction. His whole manner was that of interest and respectful
+wonder.
+
+“You have never heard of the Mahovisal? Never?”
+
+“Not until this minute,” answered Watson.
+
+“You have no knowledge of anything before? Do you know WHO YOU ARE?”
+
+“I”--Watson hesitated, wondering whether he had best withhold this
+information. He decided to chance the truth. “My name is Chick Watson. I
+am--an American.”
+
+“An American?”
+
+The Rhamda pronounced the word with a roll of the “r” that sounded more
+like the Chinese “Mellican” than anything else. It was evident that
+the sounds were totally unfamiliar to him. And his manner was a bit
+indefinite, doubtful, yet weighted with care, as he slowly repeated the
+question:
+
+“An American? Once more I don't understand. I have never heard the word,
+my dear sir. You are neither D'Hartian nor Kospian; although there are
+some--materialists for the most part--who contend that you are just as
+any one else. That is--a man.”
+
+“Perhaps I am,” returned Watson, utterly confounded. He did not know
+what to say. He had never heard of a Kospian or a D'Hartian, nor of the
+Mahovisal. It made things difficult; he couldn't get started. Most of
+all, he wanted information; and, instead, he was being questioned. The
+best he could do was to equivocate.
+
+As for the Rhamda, he frowned. Apparently his eager interest had been
+dashed with disappointment. But only slightly, as Watson could see; the
+man was of such culture and intellect as to have perfect control over
+his emotions. In his balance and poise he was very like Avec, and he had
+the same pleasing manner.
+
+“My dear sir,” he began, “if you are really a man, then you can tell me
+something of great importance.”
+
+“I” Chick retorted, “can tell you nothing until you first let me know
+just where I stand!”
+
+Certainly there was a lack of common ground. Until one of them supplied
+it, there could be no headway. Watson realised that his whole future
+might revolve about the axis of his next words.
+
+The Rhamda thought a moment, dubiously, like one who has had a pet
+theory damaged, though not shattered. Suddenly he spoke to the woman.
+
+“Open the portal,” said he.
+
+She stepped to the oval window, touched a latch, and swung the pane
+horizontally upon two pivots. Immediately the room was flooded with a
+strange effulgence, amber-like, soft and mellow, as real sunshine.
+
+But it was NOT real sunshine!
+
+The window was set in a rather thick wall, beyond which Watson could
+see a royal sapphiric sky, flecked with white and purple and
+amethyst-threaded clouds poised above a great amber sleeping sun.
+
+It was the sun that challenged attention. It was so mild, and yet so
+utterly beyond what might be expected. In diameter it would have made
+six of the one Watson had known; in the blue distance, touching the rim
+of the horizon, it looked exactly like a huge golden plate set edgewise
+on the end of the earth.
+
+And--he could look straight at it without blinking!
+
+His thoughts ran back to the first account of the Rhamda. The man had
+looked straight at the sun and had been blinded. This accounted for
+it! The man had been accustomed to this huge, soft-glowing beauty. An
+amberous sun, deep yellow, sleeping; could it be, after all, dreamland?
+
+But there were other things: the myriad tintinnabulations of these
+microscopic bells, never ceasing, musically throbbing; and now, the
+exotic delight of the softest of perfumes, an air barely tinted with
+violet and rose, and the breath of woodland wild flowers. He could
+not comprehend it. He looked at the purple clouds above the lotus sun,
+hardly believing, and deeply in doubt.
+
+A great white bird dived suddenly out of the heavens and flew into
+the focus of his vision. In all the tales of his boyhood, of large and
+beautiful rocs and other birds, he had come across nothing like this.
+From the perspective it must have measured a full three hundred feet
+from tip to tip; it was shaped like a swan and flew like an eagle, with
+magnificent, lazy sweeps of the wings; while its plumage was as white as
+the snow, new fallen on the mountains. And right behind it, in pursuit,
+hurtled a huge black thing, fully as large and just as swift; a
+tremendous black crow, so black that its sides gave off a greenish
+shimmer.
+
+Just then the woman closed the window. It was as well; Watson was only
+human, and he could hide his curiosity just so long and no longer. He
+turned to the Rhamda.
+
+The man nodded. “I thought so,” said he with satisfaction, as one might
+who has proven a pet and previous theory.
+
+Watson tried from another angle.
+
+“Just who do you think I am, sir?”
+
+The other smiled as before. “It is not what I may think,” he replied:
+“but what I know. You are the proof that was promised us by the great
+Rhamda Avec. You are--THE FACT AND THE SUBSTANCE!”
+
+He waited for Watson's answer. Stupefaction delayed it. After a moment
+the Rhamda continued:
+
+“Is it not so? Am I not right? You are surely out of the occult, my dear
+sir. You are a spirit!”
+
+It took Chick wholly by surprise. He had been ready to deal with
+anything--but this. It was unreal, weird, impossible. And yet, why not?
+The professor had set out to remove forever the screen that had hitherto
+shrouded the shadow: but what had he revealed? What had the Spot
+disclosed? Unreality or REALITY? Which is which?
+
+In the inspiration of the moment, Chick saw that he had reached the
+crossroads of the occult. There was no time to think; there was time
+only for a plunge. And, like all strong men, Watson chose the deeper
+water.
+
+He turned to the Rhamda Geos.
+
+“Yes,” said he quietly. “I--am a spirit.”
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+UP FOR BREATH
+
+
+Rhamda Geos, instead of showing the concern and uneasiness that most
+men would show in the presence of an avowed ghost, evinced nothing but
+a deep and reverent happiness. He took Watson's hand almost shyly. And
+while his manner was not effusive, it had the warmth that comes from the
+heart of a scholar.
+
+“As a Rhamda,” he declared, “I must commend myself for being the first
+to speak to you. And I must congratulate you, my dear sir, on having
+fallen, not into the hands of Bar Senestro, but into those of my own
+kind. It is a proof of the prophecy, and a vindication of the wisdom of
+the Ten Thousand.
+
+“I bid you welcome to the Thomahlia, and I offer you my services, as
+guide and sponsor.”
+
+Chick did not reply at once. The chance he had taken was one of those
+rare decisions that come to genius; the whole balance of his fate might
+swing upon his sudden impulse. Not that he had any compunction; but he
+felt that it tied him down. It restricted him. Certainly almost any role
+would be easier than that of a spirit.
+
+He didn't feel like a ghost. He wondered just how a ghost would act,
+anyhow. What was more, he could not understand such a queer assumption
+on the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a ghost? Watson
+was natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda. This was scarcely
+his idea of a phantom's life. Most certainly, the two of them were men,
+nothing else; if one was a wraith, so was the other. But--how to account
+for it?
+
+Again he thought of Rhamda Avec. The words of Geos, “The Fact and the
+Substance,” had been exactly synonymous with what had been said of Avec
+by Dr. Holcomb, “The proof of the occult.”
+
+Was it indeed possible that these two great ones, from opposite poles,
+had actually torn away the veil of the shadow? And was this the place
+where he, Watson, must pose as a spirit, if he were to be accepted as
+genuine?
+
+The thought was a shock. He must play the same part here that the Rhamda
+had played on the other side of the Spot; but he would have to do
+it without the guiding wisdom of Avec. Besides, there was something
+sinister in the unknown force that had engulfed so strong a mind as the
+professor's; for while Watson's fate had been of his own seeking, that
+of the doctor smacked too much of treachery.
+
+He turned to the Rhamda Geos with a new question:
+
+“This Rhamda Avec--was he a man like yourself?”
+
+The other brightened again, and asked in return:
+
+“Then you have seen him!”
+
+“I--I do not know,” answered Watson, caught off his guard. “But the name
+is familiar. I don't remember well. My mind is vague and confused. I
+recall a world, a wonderful world it was from which I came, and a great
+many people. But I can't place myself; I hardly--let me see--”
+
+The other nodded sympathetic approval.
+
+“I understand. Don't exert yourself. It is hardly to be expected that
+one forced out of the occult could come among us with his faculties
+unimpaired. We have had many communications with your world, and have
+always been frustrated by this one gulf which may not be crossed. When
+real thought gets across the border, it is often indefinite,
+sometimes mere drivel. Such answers as come from the void are usually
+disappointing, no matter how expert our mediums may be in communicating
+with the dead.”
+
+“The dead! Did you say--the dead?”
+
+“Certainly; the dead. Are you not of the dead?”
+
+Watson shook his head emphatically.
+
+“Absolutely not! Not where I came from. We are all very much alive!”
+
+The other watched him curiously, his great eyes glowing with enthusiasm;
+the enthusiasm of the born seeker of the truth.
+
+“You don't mean,” he asked, “that you have the same passions that we
+have here in life?”
+
+“I mean,” said Watson, “that we hate, love, swear; we are good and we
+are evil; and we play games and go fishing.”
+
+Geos rubbed his hands in a dignified sort of glee. What had been said
+coincided, apparently, with another of his pet theories.
+
+“It is splendid,” he exulted, “splendid! And just in line with my
+thesis. You shall tell it before the Council of the Rhamdas. It will be
+the greatest day since the speaking of the Jarados!”
+
+Watson wondered just who this Jarados might be; but for the moment he
+went back to the previous question.
+
+“This Rhamda Avec: you were about to tell me about him. Let me have as
+much as I can understand, sir.”
+
+“Ah, yes! The great Rhamda Avec. Perhaps you may recall him when your
+mind clears a little more. My dear sir, he is, or was, the chief of the
+Rhamdas of all the Thomahlia.”
+
+“What is the 'Thomahlia'?”
+
+“The Thomahlia! Why, it is called the world; our name for the world.
+It comprises, physically, land, water and air; politically, it embraces
+D'Hartia, Kospia and a few minor nations.”
+
+“Who are the Rhamdas?”
+
+“They are the heads of--of the Thomahlia; not the nominal nor
+political nor religious heads--they are neither judicial, executive nor
+legislative; but the real heads, still above. They might be called the
+supreme college of wisdom, of science and of research. Also, they are
+the keepers of the bell and its temple, and the interpreters of the
+Prophecy of the Jarados.”
+
+“I see. You are a sort of priesthood.”
+
+“No. The priesthood is below us. The priests take what orders we choose
+to give, and are purely--”
+
+“Superstitious?”
+
+The Rhamda's eyes snapped, just a trifle.
+
+“Not at all, my dear sir! They are good, sincere men. Only, not being
+intellectually adept enough to be admitted to the real secrets, the real
+knowledge, they give to all things a provisional explanation based upon
+a settled policy. Not being Rhamdas, they are simply not aware that
+everything has an exact and absolute explanation.”
+
+“In other words,” put in Watson, “they are scientists; they have not
+lifted themselves up to the plane of inquisitive doubt.”
+
+Still the Rhamda shook his head.
+
+“Not quite that, either, my dear sir. Those below us are not ignorant;
+they are merely nearer to the level of the masses than we are. In fact,
+they are the people's rulers; these priests and other similar classes.
+But we, the Rhamdas, are the rulers of the rulers. We differ from them
+in that we have no material ends to subserve. Being at the top, with no
+motive save justice and advancement, our judgments are never questioned,
+and for the same reason, seldom passed.
+
+“But we are far above the plane of doubt that you speak of; we passed
+out of it long ago. That is the first stage of true science; afterwards
+comes the higher levels where all things have a reason; ethics,
+inspiration, thought, emotion--”
+
+“And--the judgment of the Jarados?”
+
+Watson could not have told why he said it. It was impulse, and the
+impromptu suggestion of a half-thought. But the effect of his words upon
+the Rhamda and the nurse told him that, inadvertently, he had struck a
+keynote. Both started, especially the woman. Watson took note of this
+in particular, because of the ingrained acceptance of the feminine in
+matter of belief.
+
+“What do you know?” was her eager interruption. “You have seen the
+Jarados?”
+
+As for the Rhamda, he looked at Watson with shrewd, calculating eyes.
+But they were still filled with wonder.
+
+“Can you tell us?” he asked. “Try and think!”
+
+Chick knew that he had gained a point. He had been dealt a trump
+card; but he was too clever to play it at once. He was on his own
+responsibility and was carrying a load that required the finest
+equilibrium.
+
+“I really do not know,” he said. “I--I must have time to think. Coming
+across the border that way you must give me time. You were telling me
+about the Rhamdas in general; now tell me about Avec in particular.”
+
+Geos nodded as though he could understand the fog that beclouded
+Watson's mind.
+
+“The Rhamda Avec is, or was, the wisest of them all; the head and the
+chief, and by far the most able. Few beside his own fellows knew it,
+however; another than he was the nominal head, and officiated for
+him whenever necessary. Avec had little social intercourse; he was a
+prodigious student.
+
+“We are a body of learned men, you understand, and we stand at the
+peak of all that has been discovered through hundreds upon hundreds
+of centuries, so that at the present day we are the culmination of the
+combined effort and thought of man since the beginning of time. Each
+generation of Rhamdas must be greater than the one preceding. When I die
+and pass on to your world I must leave something new and worth-while
+to my successor; some thought, wisdom, or deed that may be of use to
+mankind. I cannot be a Rhamda else. We are a set of supreme priests, who
+serve man at the shrine of intelligence, not of dogma.
+
+“Of course, we are not to be judged too highly. All research, when it
+steps forward must go haltingly; there are many paths into the unknown
+that look like the real one. Hence, we have among us various schools of
+thought, and each following a different trail.
+
+“I myself am a spiritist. I believe that we can, and often have,
+communicated with your world at various times. There are others who do
+not grant it; there are Rhamdas who are inclined to lean more to the
+materialist's side of things, who rely entirely, when it comes to
+questions of this kind, upon their faith in the teachings of the
+Jarados. There are some, too, who believe in the value of speculation,
+and who contend that only through contemplation can man lift himself to
+the full fruits of realisation. At the head of us all--the Rhamda Avec!”
+
+“What was his belief?”
+
+“Let us say he believed ALL. He was eclectic. He held that we were
+all of us a bit right, and each of us a whole lot wrong. It was his
+contention, however, that there was not one thing that could not be
+proven; that the secret of life, while undoubtedly a secret in every
+sense of the word, is still very concrete, it could be proven!”
+
+Watson nodded. He remembered hearing another man make just such a
+statement--Dr. Holcomb.
+
+“For years he worked in private,” went on Geos. “We never knew just what
+he was doing; until, one day, he called us together and delivered his
+lecture.”
+
+“His lecture?”
+
+“Rather, his prophecy. For it was all that. Not that he spoke at great
+length; it was but a talk. He announced that he believed the time had
+come to prove the occult. That it could be done, and done only through
+concrete, material means; and that whatever existed, certainly could be
+demonstrated. He was going to pull aside the curtain that had hitherto
+cut off the shadow.
+
+“'I am going to prove the occult,' he said. 'In three days I shall
+return with the fact and the substance. And then I propose to deliver my
+greatest lecture, my final thesis, in which my whole life shall come
+to a focus. I shall bring the proof for your eyes and ears, for your
+fingers to explore and be satisfied. You shall behold the living truth.”
+
+“'And the subject of my lecture--the subject of my lecture will be The
+Spot of Life.'”
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+THROUGH UNKNOWN WATERS
+
+
+The SPOT of Life! And the subject of Dr. Holcomb's lecture, promised but
+never delivered, had been announced as--The Blind SPOT!
+
+To Watson it was fairly astounding to discover that the two--Holcomb
+and Avec--had reached simultaneously for the curtain of the shadow. The
+professor had said that it would be “the greatest day since Columbus.”
+ And so it had proven, did the world but know it.
+
+“And--the Rhamda Avec never returned?” asked Chick.
+
+“No.”
+
+“But he sent back something within three days?” Watson was thinking,
+of course, of the doctor who had disappeared on the day which, Jerome
+overheard the Rhamda to say, was the last of his stay.
+
+But Geos did not reply. Why, Chick could not guess. He thought it best
+not to press the question; in good time, if he went at it carefully,
+he could gain his end with safety. At the moment he must not arouse
+suspicion. He chose another query.
+
+“Did Avec go alone?”
+
+“No. The Nervina went with him. Rather, she followed within a few
+hours.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+It was out before Watson could think. The Rhamda looked up suddenly.
+
+“Then you have seen the Nervina! You know her?”
+
+Chick lied. It was not his intention, just at present, to tie himself
+down to anything that might prove compromising or restraining.
+
+“The name is--familiar. Who is this Nervina?”
+
+“She is one of the queens. I thought--My dear sir, she is one of the
+queens of Thomahlia, half Kospian, half D'Hartian; of the first royal
+line running through from the day of the Jarados.”
+
+Chick cogitated for a moment. Then, taking an entirely new tack:
+
+“You say the Rhamda and this Nervina, independently, solved the mystery
+of the Spot of Life, I believe you call it. And that Spot leads,
+apparently, into the occult?”
+
+“Apparently, if not positively. It was the wisdom of Avec, mostly. He
+had been in communication with your world by means of his own discovery
+and application. It was all in line with the prophecy.
+
+“Since he and the Nervina left, the people of the world have been in a
+state of ferment. For it was foretold that in the last days we would
+get in communication with the other side; that some would come and some
+would go. For example, your own coming was foretold by the Jarados,
+almost to the hour and minute.”
+
+“Then it was fortuitous,” spoke Watson. “It was NOT the wisdom and
+science of Avec, in my case.”
+
+“Quite so. However, it is proof that the Rhamdas have fulfilled their
+duty. We knew of the Spot of Life, all the while; it was to be closed
+until we, through the effort of our intellect and virtues, could lift
+ourselves up to the plane of the world beyond us--your world. It could
+not be opened by ourselves alone, however. The Rhamda Avec had first
+to get in touch with your side, before he could apply the laws he had
+discovered.”
+
+Somehow, Chick admired this Rhamda. Men of his type could form but one
+kind of priesthood: exalted, and devoted to the advance of intelligence.
+If Rhamda Avec were of the same sort, then he was a man to be looked up
+to, not to hate. As for the Jarados--Watson could not make out who he
+had been; a prophet or teacher, seemingly, looming out of the past and
+reverenced from antiquity.
+
+The Blind Spot became a shade less sinister. Already Watson had the
+Temple of the Leaf, or Bell, the Rhamdas and their philosophy, the great
+amber sun, the huge birds, the musical cadence of the perfumed air, and
+the counter-announcement of Rhamda Avec to weigh against the work and
+words of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The world of the Blind Spot!
+
+As if in reaction from the unaccustomed train of thought, Watson
+suddenly became conscious of extreme hunger. He gave an uneasy glance
+round, a glance which the Rhamda Geos smilingly interpreted. At a word
+the woman left the room and returned with a crimson garment, like a
+bath-robe. When Chick had donned it and a pair of silken slippers, Geos
+bade him follow.
+
+They stepped out into the corridor.
+
+This was formed and coloured much as the room they had quitted; and it
+led to another apartment, much larger--about fifty feet across--coloured
+a deep, cool green. Its ceiling, coved like the other, seemed made of
+some self-radiating substance from which came both light and heat. Four
+or five tables, looking like ebony work, were arranged along the side
+walls. When they were seated at one of these, the Rhamda placed his
+fingers on some round alna-white buttons ranged along the edge of the
+table.
+
+“In your world,” he apologised, “our clumsy service would doubtless
+amuse you; but it is the best we have been able to devise so far.”
+
+He pressed the button. Instantly, without the slightest sound or
+anything else to betray just how the thing had been accomplished,
+the table was covered with golden dishes, heaped with food, and two
+flagon-like goblets, full to the brim with a dark, greenish liquid that
+gave off an aroma almost exhilarating; not alcoholic, but something just
+above that. The Rhamda, disregarding or not noticing Watson's gasp
+of wonder, lifted his goblet in the manner of the host in health and
+welcome.
+
+“You may drink it,” he offered, “without fear. It is not liquor--if I
+may use a word which I believe to be current in your world. I may add
+that it is one of the best things that we shall be able to offer you
+while you are with us.”
+
+Indeed it wasn't liquor. Watson took a sip; and he made a mental note
+that if all things in the Thomahlia were on a par with this, then he
+certainly was in a world far above his own. For the one sip was enough
+to send a thrill through his veins, a thrill not unlike the ecstasy
+of supreme music--a sparkling exuberance, leaving the mind clear and
+scintillating, glorified to the quick thinking of genius.
+
+Later Watson experienced no reaction such as would have come from
+drinking alcohol or any other drug.
+
+It was the strangest meal ever eaten by Watson. The food was very
+savoury, and perfectly cooked and served. Only one dish reminded him of
+meat.
+
+“You have meats?” he asked. “This looks like flesh.”
+
+Geos shook his head. “No. Do you have flesh to eat, on the other side?
+We make all our food.”
+
+MAKE food. Watson thought best simply to answer the question:
+
+“As I remember it, Rhamda Geos, we had a sort of meat called beef--the
+flesh of certain animals.”
+
+The Rhamda was intensely interested. “Are they large? Some interpret the
+Jarados to that effect. Tell me, are they like this?” And he pulled a
+silver whistle from his pocket and, placing it to his lips, blew two
+short, shrill notes.
+
+Immediately a peculiar patter sounded down the corridor; a ka-tuck,
+ka-tuck, ka-tuck, not unlike galloping hoof-beats. Before Watson could
+do any surmising a little bundle of shining black, rounded the entrance
+to the room and ran up to them. Geos picked it up.
+
+It was a horse. A horse, beautifully formed, perfect as an Arab, and not
+more than nine inches high!
+
+Now, Chick had been in the Blind Spot, conscious, but a short while. He
+knew that he was in the precise position that Rhamda Avec had occupied
+that morning on the ferry-boat. Chick recalled the pictures of the
+Lilliputian deer and the miniature kittens; yet he was immensely
+surprised.
+
+The little fellow began to neigh, a tiny, ridiculous sound as compared
+with the blast of a normal-sized horse, and began to paw for the edge of
+the table.
+
+“What does he want?”
+
+“A drink. They will do anything for it.” Geos pressed a button, and in
+a moment he had another goblet. This he held before the little stallion,
+who thrust his head in above his nostrils and drank as greedily as a
+Percheron weighing a ton. Watson stroked his sides; the mane was like
+spun silk, he felt the legs symmetrical, perfectly shaped, not as large
+above the fetlocks as an ordinary pencil.
+
+“Are they all of this size?”
+
+“Yes; all of them. Why do you ask?”
+
+“Because”--seeing no harm in telling this--“as I remember them, a horse
+on the other side would make a thousand of this one. People ride them.”
+
+The Rhamda nodded.
+
+“So it is told in the books of Jarados. We had such beasts, once,
+ourselves. We would have them still, but for the brutality and stupidity
+of our ancestors. It is the one great sin of the Thomahlia. Once we had
+animals, great and small, and all the blessings of Nature; we had horses
+and, I think, what you call beef; a thousand other creatures that were
+food and help and companions to man. And for the good they had done our
+ancestors destroyed them!”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“It was neglect, unthinking and selfish. A time came when our
+civilisation made it possible to live without other creatures. When
+machinery came into vogue we put aside the animals as useless; those we
+had no further use for we denied the right to reproduce. The game of the
+forest was hunted down with powerful weapons of destruction; all went,
+in a century or two; everything that could be killed. And with them went
+the age of our highest art, that age of domesticated animals.
+
+“Our greatest paintings, our noblest sculpture, came from that age; all
+the priceless relics that we call classic. And in its stead we had the
+mechanical age. Man likewise became a mechanism, emotionless, with no
+taste for Nature. Meat was made synthetically, and so was milk.”
+
+“You don't mean to say they did not preserve cows for the sake of their
+milk?”
+
+“No; that kind of milk became old-fashioned; men regarded it as
+unsanitary, fit only for the calves. What they wanted was something
+chemically pure; they waged war on bacteria, microbes, and Nature
+in general; a cow was merely a relic whose product was always an
+uncertainty. With no reason for the meat and no use for the milk, our
+vegetarians and our purists gradually eliminated them altogether. It
+was a strange age; utilitarian, scientific, selfish; it was then headed
+straight for destruction.”
+
+And he went on to relate how men began to lose the power of emotion;
+there were no dependent beasts to leaven his nature with the salt of
+kindness; he thought only of his own aggrandisement. He became like his
+machine, a fine thing of perfectly correlated parts, but with no higher
+nature, no soul, no feeling; he was less than a brute. The animals
+disappeared one by one, passing through the channel of death, into the
+world beyond the Spot of Life, leaving behind only these tiny survivors,
+playthings, kept in existence longer than all others because of a mere
+fad.
+
+“Does your spiritism include animals as well as men?”
+
+“Naturally; everything that is endowed with life.”
+
+“I see. Let me ask you: why didn't the Rhamdas interfere and put a stop
+to this wanton sacrilege against Nature?”
+
+The Rhamda smiled. “You forget,” replied he, “that these events belong
+far in the past. At that time the Rhamdas were not. It was even before
+the coming of the Jarados.”
+
+Watson asked no more questions for a while. He wanted to think. How
+could this man Rhamda Geos, if indeed he were a man, accept him, Watson,
+as a spirit? Solid flesh was not exactly in line with his idea of the
+unearthly. How to explain it? He had to go back to Holcomb again. The
+doctor had accepted without question Avec's naturalness, his body,
+his appetite. Reasonably enough, Geos, with some smattering of his
+superior's wisdom, should accept Watson in the same way.
+
+And then, the Jarados: at every moment his name had cropped up. Who was
+he? So far he had heard no word that might be construed as a clue.
+The great point, just now, was that the Rhamda Geos accepted him as a
+spirit, as the fact and substance promised by Avec. But--where was the
+doctor?
+
+Chick ventured this question:
+
+“My coming was foretold by the Rhamda Avec, I understand. Is this in
+accord with the words of the Jarados?”
+
+The Rhamda looked up expectantly and spoke with evident anxiety.
+
+“Can you tell me anything about the Jarados?”
+
+“Let us forgo that,” side-stepped Watson. “Possibly I can tell you
+much that you would like to know. What I want to know is, just how well
+prepared you are to receive me?”
+
+“Then you come from the Jarados!”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“What do you know about him?”
+
+“This: someone should have preceded me! The fact and the substance-you
+were to have it inside three days! It has been several hundred times the
+space allotted! Is it not so?”
+
+The Rhamda's eyes were pin-pointed with eagerness.
+
+“Then it IS true! You are from the Jarados! You know the great Rhamda
+Avec--you have seen him!”
+
+“I have,” declared Watson.
+
+“In the other world? You can remember?”
+
+“Yes,” again committing himself. “I have seen Avec--in another world.
+But tell me, before we go on I would have an answer to my question: did
+anyone precede me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Watson was nonplussed, but he concealed the fact.
+
+“Are you sure?”
+
+“Quite, my dear sir. The Spot of Life was watched continually from the
+moment the Rhamda left us.”
+
+“You mean, he and the Nervina?”
+
+“Quite so; she followed him after an interval of a few hours.”
+
+“I know. But you say that no one came out ahead of me. Who was it that
+guarded this--this Spot of Life? The Rhamdas?”
+
+“They and the Bars.”
+
+“Ah! And who are the Bars?”
+
+“The military priesthood. They are the Mahovisal, and of the Temple of
+the Bell. They are led by the great Bar Senestro.”
+
+“And there were times when these Bars, led by this Senestro, held guard
+over the Spot of Life?” To this Geos nodded; and Watson went on: “And
+who is this great Senestro?”
+
+“He is the chief of the Bars, and a prince of D'Hartia. He is the
+affianced of the two queens, the Aradna and the Nervina.”
+
+“The TWO of them?”
+
+Whereupon Watson learned something rather peculiar. It seemed that the
+princes of D'Hartia had always married the queens. This Senestro had had
+a brother, but he died. And in such an event it was the iron custom
+that the surviving brother marry both queens. It had happened only once
+before in all history; but the precedent was unbreakable.
+
+“Then, there is nothing against it?”
+
+“Nothing; except, perhaps the prophecy of the Jarados. We now know--the
+whole world knows--that we are fast approaching the Day of Life.”
+
+“Of course; the Day of Life.” Watson decided upon another chance shot.
+“It has to do with the marriage of the two queens!”
+
+“You DO know!” cried the Rhamda joyously. “Tell me!”
+
+“No; it is I who am asking the questions.”
+
+Watson's mind was working like lightning. Whether it was the influence
+of the strange drink, or the equally strange influence of ordinary
+inspiration, he was never more self-assured in his life. It seemed a day
+for taking long chances.
+
+“Tell me,” he inquired, “what has the Day of Life to do with the two
+queens and their betrothal?”
+
+The Rhamda throttled his eagerness. “It is one of the obscure points of
+the prophecy. There are some scholars who hold that such a problem as
+this presages the coming of the end and the advent of the chosen. But
+others oppose this interpretation, for reasons purely material: for if
+the Bar Senestro should marry both queens it would make him the sole
+ruler of the Thomahlia. Only once before have we had a single ruler; for
+centuries upon centuries we have had two queens; one of the D'Hartians,
+and the other of the Kospians, enthroned here in the Mahovisal.”
+
+Watson would have liked to learn far more. But the time seemed one for
+action on his part; bold action, and positive.
+
+“Rhamda Geos--I do not know what is your version of the prophecy. But
+you are positive that no one preceded me out of the Spot?”
+
+“I am. Why do you persist?”
+
+“Because”--speaking slowly and with the greatest care--“because there
+was one greater than I, who came before me!”
+
+The Rhamda rose excitedly to his feet, and then sank back into his chair
+again. In his eyes was nothing save eagerness, wonder and respect. He
+leaned forward.
+
+“Who was it? Who was he?”
+
+Watson's voice was steady as stone.
+
+“The great Jarados himself!”
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+A LONG WAY FROM SHORE
+
+
+Once more Watson had taken the kind of chance he preferred--a slender
+one. He took the chance that these people, however occult and advanced
+they might be, were still human enough to build their prophecy out of an
+old foundation. If he were right, then the person of the Jarados would
+be inviolable. If the professor were prisoner, held somewhere in secret,
+and it got noised about that he was the true prophet returned--it would
+not only give Holcomb immense prestige, but at the same time render the
+position of his captors untenable.
+
+Chick needed no great discernment to see that he had touched a vital
+spot. The philosophy of the Rhamdas was firmly bound up with spiritism;
+they had gone far in science, and had passed out of mere belief into
+the deeper, finer understanding that went behind the shadow for proof.
+Certainly Watson inwardly rejoiced to see Rhamda Geos incredulous,
+his keen face whitening like that of one who has just heard sacrilege
+uttered--to see Geos rise in his place, grip the table tightly, and hear
+him exclaim:
+
+“The Jarados! Did you say--the Jarados? He has come amongst us, and we
+have not known? You are perfectly sure of this?”
+
+“I am,” stated Watson, and met the other's keen scrutiny without
+flinching.
+
+Would the game work? At least it promised action; and now that he had
+the old feeling of himself he was anxious to get under way. Any feeling
+of fear was gone now. He calmly nodded his head.
+
+“Yes, it is so. But sit down. I have still a bit more to tell you.”
+
+The Rhamda resumed his seat. Clearly, his reverence had been greatly
+augmented in the past few seconds. From that time on there was a marked
+difference in his manner; and his speech, when he addressed Chick,
+contained the expression “my lord”--an expression that Watson found it
+easy enough to become accustomed to.
+
+“Did you doubt, Rhamda Geos, that I came from the Jarados?”
+
+“We did not doubt. We were certain.”
+
+“I see. You were not expecting the Jarados.”
+
+“Not yet, my lord. The coming of the Jarados shall be close to the Day
+of the Judgment. But it could not be so soon; there were to be signs and
+portents. We were to solve the problem first; we were to know the reason
+of the shadow and the why of the spirit. The wisdom of the Rhamda Avec
+told that the day approaches; he had opened the Spot of Life and gone
+through it; but he had NOT sent the fact and the substance.” Watson
+smiled. There was just enough superstition, it seemed, beneath all the
+Rhamda's wisdom to make him tractable. However, Chick asked:
+
+“Tell me: as a learned man, as a Rhamda, do you believe in the prophecy
+implicitly?”
+
+“Yes, my lord. I am a spiritist; and if spiritism is truth, then the
+Jarados was genuine, and his prophecy is true. After all, my lord, it is
+not a case of legend, but of history. The Jarados came at a time of
+high civilisation, when men would see and understand him; he gave us his
+teaching in records, and imposed his laws upon the Thomahlia. Then he
+departed--through the Spot of Life.”
+
+And the Rhamda Geos went on to say that the teachings of the Jarados had
+been moral as well as intellectual. Moreover, after he had formulated
+his laws, he wrote out his judgment.
+
+“What was that?”
+
+“An exhortation, my lord, that we were to give proof of our appreciation
+of intelligence. We were to use it, and to prove ourselves worthy of
+it by lifting ourselves up to the level of the Spot of Life. In other
+words, the spot would be opened when, and only when, we had learned the
+secrets of the occult, and--had opened the Spot ourselves!”
+
+Watson thought he understood partly. He asked:
+
+“And that is why you doubt me?”
+
+“You, my lord? Not so! You were found in the Temple of the Bell and
+Leaf; not on the Spot itself, to be sure, but on the floor of the
+temple. You were, both in your person and in your dress, of another
+world; you had been promised by the Rhamda Avec; and, in a sense, you
+were a part of the prophecy. We accepted you!”
+
+“But I speak your language. Account for that, Geos.”
+
+“It need not be accounted for, my lord. We accept it as fact. The
+affinity of spirit would not be bound by the limitation of artificial
+speech. That you should talk the Thomahlia language is no more strange
+than that Rhamda Avec, when he passed into your world, should speak your
+tongue.”
+
+“We call our language English,” supplied Watson. “It is the tongue of
+the Jarados and of myself.”
+
+“Tell me of the Jarados, my lord!” with renewed eagerness. “In the other
+world--what is he?”
+
+It was Chick's opportunity. By telling the simple truth about Dr.
+Holcomb he would enhance himself in the eyes of Rhamda Geas.
+
+“In the other world--we call it America--the Jaradas is a Rhamda much
+like yourself, the head and chief of many Rhamdas sitting in a great
+institution devoted to intelligence. It is called the University of
+California.”
+
+“And this California; what is it, my lord?”
+
+“A name,” returned Chick. “Immediately on the other side of the Spot is
+a region called California.”
+
+“The promised land, my lord!”
+
+“The promised land indeed. There are some who call it paradise, even
+there.” And for good measure he proceeded to tell much of his own land,
+of the woods, the rivers, the cities, animals, mountains, the sky, the
+moon, and the sun. When he came to the sun he explained that no man
+dared to look at it continuously with the bare eyes. Its great heat and
+splendour astounded Geos.
+
+Concerning himself he nonchalantly stated that he was the fiance of
+Holcomb's daughter; that is, son-in-law-to-be of the prophet Jarados;
+that he was sort of Junior Rhamda. He declared that he had come from
+the occult Rhamdas, through the other side of the Spot, in search of
+the Jarados who had gone before. As to his blankness up to now, and his
+perplexity--he was but a Junior; and the Spot had naturally benumbed his
+senses. Even now, he apologised, it was difficult to know and to recall
+everything clearly.
+
+Through it all the Rhamda Geos Listened in something like awe. He
+was hearing of wonders never before guessed in the Thomahlia. As the
+prospective son-in-law of the Jarados, Watson automatically lifted
+himself to a supreme height, so great that, could he only hold himself
+up to it, he would have a prestige second only to that of the prophet
+himself.
+
+All of a sudden he thought of a question. It gripped him with dread,
+the dread of the unknown. The question was one of TIME. “How long have I
+been here, Rhamda Geos?”
+
+“Over eleven months, by our system of reckoning. You were found on the
+floor of the temple three hundred and fifty-seven days ago; you were
+in a lifeless condition; you must have been there some hours, my lord,
+before we discovered you.”
+
+“Eleven months!” It had seemed but that many minutes. “And I was
+unconscious--”
+
+“All the time, my lord. Had we caught you immediately upon your
+coming, we could have brought you around within three days, but in the
+circumstances it was impossible to restore you before we did. You have
+been under the care of the greatest specialists in all Thomahlia.”
+
+Geos himself had been one of these. “The council of Rhamdas went into
+special session, my lord, immediately after your materialisation, and
+has been sitting almost continually since. And now that you are revived,
+they are waiting in person for you to show yourself.
+
+“They accept you. They do not know who you are, my lord; none of us has
+guessed even a part of the truth. The entire council awaits!”
+
+But Chick wanted more. Besides, he looked at his clothing.
+
+“I would have my own garments, Geos; also, whatever else was found on my
+person.”
+
+For Watson was thinking of a small but powerful pistol, an automatic,
+that he had carried on the night when he fell through the Blind Spot.
+This question of materiality was still a puzzle; if he himself had
+survived there was a chance that the firearm had done the same. It might
+and it might not preclude the occult. Anyway, he treasured the thought
+of that automatic; with it in his possession he would not be bare-handed
+in case of emergency.
+
+They returned to the room in which Chick had awakened. The Rhamda left
+him. A few moments later he came back with a squad of men. Chick noted
+their discipline, movement, and uniforms, and classed them as soldiers.
+Two men were stationed outside the door--one, a stout, dark individual
+in a blue uniform; and the other a lithe, athletic chap, blond and
+blue-eyed, wearing a bright crimson dress. Chick instinctively preferred
+both man and garb in crimson; there was a touch of honour, of lightness
+and strength that just suited him. The other was dark, heavy and
+sinister.
+
+Both wore sandals, and upon their heads curious shakos, made of the
+finest down, not fur. Both displayed a heavy silken braid looped from
+one shoulder. Each carried a spear-like weapon, of some shining black
+material, straight-tapered to a needle-point; but no other arms.
+
+Watson pointed to the two uniforms.
+
+“What is the significance, Geos?”
+
+“One is from the queen, my lord; the other from Bar Senestro. The blue
+is the cloth of the Bars; the red, that of the queens. The Bar and the
+queen send this bodyguard with their respective compliments.”
+
+Chick took the bundle that Geos had brought, and proceeded to don his
+own clothes, finding deep satisfaction in the fact that they had arrived
+as intact as he. He felt carefully in his hip pocket; the automatic
+was still there, likewise the extra magazine of cartridges that he had
+carried about with him on that night.
+
+In his other pockets he found two packets of cigarettes, a pouch of
+tobacco, some papers, a few coins, a little money and two photographs,
+one of Bertha and the other of her father. Not a thing had been
+disturbed.
+
+He announced himself ready.
+
+The Rhamda conducted him down the corridor, which he found to be lined
+with guards; red on one side, blue on the other. These men fell in
+behind in two parallel files, one of the one colour and one of the
+other.
+
+It was a building of great size. The corridors were long and high, all
+with the wide-coved ceiling, and of colours that melted from one shade
+to another as they turned, not corners, but curves. Apparently each
+colour had its own suggestive reason. Such rooms as Chick could look
+into were uniformly large, beautiful, and distinctly lighted.
+
+The guard moved in silent rhythm; the chief sound was that made by
+Watson's leather-heeled shoes, drowning out, for once, the everlasting
+tinkling undertone of those unseen fairy-bells; that running cadence,
+never ceasing, silver, liquid, like the soul of sound.
+
+Though Watson walked with head erect, he had eyes for every little thing
+he passed. He noted the material of the structure and tried to name it;
+neither plaster nor stone, the walls were highly polished and, somehow
+or other, capable of emitting perfume--light and wholesome, not heavy
+and oppressive. And in dark passages the walls glowed.
+
+The corridor widened, and with a graceful curve opened upon a wide
+stairway that descended, or rather sank--to use Watson's own words
+for the feeling--into the depths of the building. To the right of one
+landing was a large window reaching to the floor; its panes were clear
+and not frosted as had been the others.
+
+Chick got his first glimpse here of what lay outside--an iridescent
+landscape, at first view astonishingly like an ocean of opals; for it
+was of many hues, red and purple and milky white, splashed violantin
+blue and fluorescence--a maze and shimmer of dancing, joyful colours,
+whirring in an uncertainty of polychromatic harmony. Such was his first
+fleeting impression.
+
+At the next landing he looked closer. It was not unlike a monster
+bowl of bubbles; the same illusion of movement, the same delicacy
+and witchery of colour, only here the sensation was not that of
+decomposition but of life; of flowers, delicate as the rainbow, tenuous,
+sinuous, breathing--weaving in a serpentine maze of daedalian hues; long
+tendrils of orchidian beauty, lifting, weaving, drooping--a vast sea of
+equatorial bloom; but--no trees.
+
+“This is our landscape,” spoke the Rhamda. “According to the Jarados, it
+is not like that of the next world--your world, my lord. After you meet
+the Rhamdas, I shall take you into the Mahovisal for a closer view of it
+all.”
+
+They reached the bottom of the stairway. Chick noted the architecture in
+the entrance-way at this point; the seeming solidness of structure, as
+if the whole had been chiselled, not built. The vestibule was really
+a hall, domed and high, large enough to shelter a hundred. Like the
+corridor outside Chick's room, it was lined with a row each of red and
+blue uniformed guards.
+
+Invariably the one belonged to the blond, lithe, quick-feeling type,
+the others heavy, sturdy, formidable. The extremities of the two lines
+converged on an oval-topped doorway, very large, having above it a
+design conventionalised from the three-leafed clover. One leaf was
+scarlet, one blue, the other green.
+
+The door opened. The guards halted. Geos stepped aside with a bow, and
+Watson strode forward into the presence of the Council of the Rhamdas.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+THE BAR SENESTRO
+
+
+It was a critical moment for Chick. Out of the impulse of his inner
+nature he had chosen the odds that he must now uphold against the
+combined wisdom of these intellectuals. He was alone, with no one
+to guide him save Geos, who undoubtedly was his friend, but who as
+undoubtedly would desert him upon the slightest inkling of imposture.
+
+He found himself in a great, round room, or rather an oval one, domed at
+the top but tinted in a far more beautiful colouring--lazuli blue. The
+walls were cut by long, narrow windows reaching far up into the sweep
+where the side melted into the ceiling. The material of the windows was
+of the same translucent substance already noted, but slightly tinged
+with green, so that they shed a soft light, cooled and quiet, over the
+whole assembly.
+
+On the wall opposite the doorway was a large replica of the clover-leaf
+design outside, even more gem-like in brilliance; its three colours
+woven into a trinity almost of flame. Whether the light was artificial
+or intrinsic, Chick could not say. The floor of the place accommodated
+some three hundred tables, of the library type, and the same number
+of men bearing the distinguished stamp of the Rhamda. All were
+smooth-shaven, comparatively tall, and possessing the same aesthetic
+manner which impressed one with the notion of inherited, inherent
+culture. The entire hall had the atmosphere of learning, justice and the
+supreme tribunal.
+
+For a moment Watson felt weak and uncertain. He could hold up against
+Geos and Avec, but in the face of such an array he wasn't so sure. There
+was but one thing to encourage him; the faces into which he looked. All
+were full of wonder and reverence.
+
+Then he looked about him more carefully. He had come out upon a wide
+platform, or rostrum. He now noticed that he was flanked on either side
+by thrones--two of them; they seemed made of golden amber. The one on
+the right was occupied by a man, the other by a woman. In the pause that
+was vouchsafed him Chick took note of these two, and wondered.
+
+In the first place, the man was not a Rhamda. The jewelled semi-armour
+that he wore was more significant than the dignified garb of the
+Intellectuals; at the same time, his accoutrements cheapened him, by
+contrast. He was executive, princely, with the bearing that comes of
+worldly ambitions and attainments; a man strangely handsome, vital,
+athletic; curling hair, dark, quick eyes and even features; except
+only for the mouth he might have been taken as a model of the Greek
+Alexander.
+
+The clothes he wore were classic, as was everything else about him, even
+to his sandals, his bare arms and his jewelled breastplate.
+
+Watson had studied history. He had a quick impression of a composite--of
+genius, cruelty and sensuality. Here was one with three strong natures,
+a sort of Nero, Caligula and Alexander combined: the sensuality of the
+first, the cruelty of the second, and the instinctive fire and greatness
+of the immortal Macedonian. The man was smiling; not an amused smile,
+but one of interest, humorous tolerance.
+
+When their eyes met, Chick caught the magnetic current of personality,
+the same sense of illusiveness that he and Harry Wendel had noted in
+the Nervina; only here it was negative, resisting instead of aiding.
+A number of the blue guard surrounded the throne, their faces dark,
+strong, and of unconquerable resolution, though slow to think.
+
+On the other throne was a girl. Chick had heard enough from the Geos to
+guess her identity: one of the queens, the Aradna; frail, delicate, a
+blue-eyed maiden, with a waving mass of straw-gold hair hanging loosely
+about her shoulders. She too was classically attired, although there
+were touches of modernity here and there in the arrangement of ribbons;
+the garment matched her guards' crimson, and was draped about her
+shoulders so as to leave one bare, together with that arm. Across her
+forehead was a band of dark-blue gems, and she wore no other jewels.
+
+She was not more than seventeen or eighteen, with eyes like bluebells,
+lips as red as poppies, features that danced with delight and laughter
+and all the innocence that one would associate with elfin royalty.
+Instinctively Chick compared her with the Nervina.
+
+The senior queen had the subtle magnetism, the uncountable fascination,
+the poise and decision that held and dictated all things to her fancy.
+
+Not so the Aradna. Hers was the strength of simplicity, the frank, open
+delight of the maiden, and at the same time all the charm and suggestion
+of coming womanhood. When she caught Watson's eye she smiled; a smile
+free and unrestrained, out of an open, happy heart. She made a remark
+to one of her guards, who nodded a reply after the manner of a friend,
+rather than a courtier.
+
+Watson turned to the Geos, who stood somewhat to one side, and a little
+to the rear.
+
+“The Aradna?”
+
+“Yes. The queen of D'Hartia. The man on the other side is the Bar
+Senestro.”
+
+Whatever feeling Chick entertained for the one was offset by what he
+felt for the other. He was between two forces; his instinct warned him
+of the Bar, sceptical, powerful, ruthless, a man to be reckoned with;
+but his better nature went out to the young queen.
+
+At a motion from Geos, the whole assembly of Rhamdas stood up. The
+action was both dignified and reverent. Though Chick was, in their eyes,
+a miracle, there was no unseemly staring nor jarring of curiosity; all
+was quietness, ease, poise; the only sound was that of the constant
+subtle music of those invisible bells.
+
+Rhamda Geos began speaking. At the same time he placed a friendly hand
+on Watson's shoulder, a signal for every other Rhamda to resume his
+seat.
+
+“The Fact and the Substance, my brothers.”
+
+Geos paused as he made use of the ultra-significant phrase. And then,
+in a few rapid sentences, he ran over the synopsis of that affair,
+beginning with some philosophy and other details that Watson could only
+half understand, making frequent allusions to the Jarados and other
+writers of prophecy; then he made some mention of his own particular
+brand of spiritism and its stand on materialisation. This he followed
+with an account of the finding of Watson in the temple, his long sleep
+and ultimate reviving. At greater length he repeated the gist of their
+conversation.
+
+Not until then was there a stir among the Rhamdas. Chick glanced over at
+the Aradna. She was listening eagerly, her chin cupped in her hand,
+her blue eyes full of interest and wonder, and natural, unfeigned,
+child-like delight.
+
+Then the Bar caught Chick's glance; the newcomer felt the cold chill of
+calculation, the cynical weight of the sceptic, and a queer foreboding
+of the future; no light glance, but one like fire and ice and iron.
+He wondered at the man's beauty and genius, and at his emotional
+preponderance manifest even here before the Rhamdas.
+
+The Geos went on. His words, now, were simple and direct. Watson felt
+himself almost deified by that reverent manner. The Rhamdas listened
+with visibly growing interest; the Aradna leaned slightly forward; even
+the Bar dropped his interest in Watson to pay closer attention to the
+speaker. For Geos had come to the Jarados; he was an orator as well as
+a mystic, and he was advancing Chick's words with all the skill of a
+master of language, ascending effect--climax--the Jarados had come among
+them, and--They had missed him!
+
+For a moment there was silence, then a rustle of general comment. Chick
+watched the Rhamdas, leaning over to whisper to each other. Could he
+stand up against them?
+
+But none of them spoke. After the first murmur of comment they lapsed
+into silence again. It was the Bar Senestro who broke the tension.
+
+“May I ask, Rhamda Geos, why you make such an assertion? What proof have
+you, to begin with, that this man,” indicating Watson with a nod, “is
+not merely one of ourselves: a D'Hartian or a Kospian?”
+
+The Geos replied instantly: “You know the manner of his discovery, Bar
+Senestro. Have you not eyes?” Geos seemed to think he had said the last
+word.
+
+“Surely,” rejoined the Bar good-humouredly. “I have very good eyes,
+Rhamda Geos. Likewise I have a mind to reason with; but my imagination,
+I fear, is defective. What I behold is just such a creature as myself;
+not otherwise. How hold you that this one is proof out of the occult?”
+
+“You are sceptical,” returned the Rhamda, evenly. “Even as you behold
+him, you are full of doubt. But do you not recall the words of the great
+Avec? Do you not know the Prophecy of the Jarados?”
+
+“Truly, Geos; I remember them both. Especially the writing on the wall
+of the temple. Does not the prophet himself say: 'And behold, in the
+last days there shall come among ye--the false ones. Them ye shall
+slay'?”
+
+“All very true, Bar Senestro. But you well know--we all know--that the
+true prophecy was to be fulfilled when the Spot was opened. Did not the
+fulfilment begin when the Avec and the Nervina passed through to the
+other side?”
+
+“The fulfilment, Geos? Perhaps it was the sign of the coming of
+impostors! The end may not be until ALL the conditions are complied
+with!”
+
+But at this moment Aradna saw fit to speak.
+
+“Senestro, would you condemn this one without allowing him a word in his
+own defence? Is it fair? Besides, he does not look like an impostor to
+me. I like his face. Perhaps he is one of the chosen!”
+
+At the last word the Bar frowned. His glance shifted suddenly to Watson,
+a swift look of ice-cold calculation.
+
+“Very, very true, O Aradna. I, too, would have him speak in his own
+behalf. Let him amuse us with his tongue. What would your majesty care
+to hear, O Aradna, from this phantom?”
+
+The words were of biting satire. Chick wheeled upon the Bar. Their eyes
+clashed; an encounter not altogether to Watson's credit. He was a bit
+unsteady, a trifle uncertain of his power. He had calculated on the
+superstition of the Rhamdas to hold him up until he caught his footing,
+and this unexpected scepticism was disconcerting. However, he was no
+coward; the feeling passed away almost at once. He strode straight up to
+the throne of the Bar; and once more he spoke from sheer impulse:
+
+“The Aradna has spoken true, O Senestro, or sinister, or whatever you
+may be called. I demand fair hearing! It is my due; for I have come from
+another world. I follow--the Jarados!”
+
+If Watson had supposed that he had taken the Bar's measure, he was
+mistaken. The prince's eyes suddenly glinted with a fierce pleasure.
+Like a flash his antagonism shifted to something astonishingly like
+admiration.
+
+“Well spoken! Incidentally, you are well made and sound looking,
+stranger.”
+
+“Passably,” replied Watson. “I do not care to discuss my appearance,
+however. I am certainly no more ill-favoured than some others.”
+
+“And impertinent,” continued the other, quite without malice. “Do you
+know anything about the Bar, to whom you speak so saucily?”
+
+“I know that you have intimated that I may be an impostor. You have done
+this, after hearing what the learned Rhamda Geos has said. You know the
+facts; you know that I have come from the Jarados. I--”
+
+But it wasn't Watson's words that held the Bar's attention. Chick's
+straight, well-knit form, his quick-trained actions, overbalanced
+the question of the prophet in the mind of the man on the throne. His
+delight was self-evident.
+
+“Truly you are soundly built, stranger; you are made of iron and
+whipcord, finely formed, quick and alert.” He threw a word to one of his
+heavy-faced attendants, then suddenly stood up and descended from his
+throne. He came up and stood beside Watson.
+
+Chick straightened. The prince was an inch the taller; his bare arms
+long-muscled, lithe, powerful; under the pink skin Chick could see the
+delicate, cat-like play of strength and vitality. He sensed the strength
+of the man, his quick, eager, instinctive glance, his panther-like step
+and certainty of graceful movement.
+
+“Stranger,” spoke the Bar, “indeed you ARE an athlete! What is your
+nationality--Kospian?”
+
+“Neither Kospian nor D'Hartian; I am an American. True, there are some
+who have said that I am built like a man; I pride myself that I can
+conduct myself like one.”
+
+“And speak impertinently.” Still in the best of humour, the prince
+coolly reached out and felt Watson's biceps. His eyes became still
+brighter. If not an admirer of decorum, he could appreciate firm flesh.
+“Sirra! You ARE strong! Answer me--do you know anything about games of
+violence?”
+
+“Several. Anything you choose.”
+
+But the prince shook his head. “Not so. I claim no unfair advantage; you
+are well met, and opportune. Let it be a contest of your own choosing.
+The greater honour to myself, the victor!”
+
+But the little queen saw fit to interfere.
+
+“Senestro, is this the code of the Bar? Is not your proposal unseemly to
+so great a guest? Restrain your eagerness for strength and for muscle!
+You have preferred charges against this man; now you would hurl your
+body as well. Remember, I am the queen; I can command it of you.”
+
+The Senestro bowed.
+
+“Your wishes are my law, O Aradna.” Then, turning to Watson: “I am
+over-eager, stranger. You are the best-built man I have seen for many
+a circle. But I shall best you.” He paced to his throne and resumed his
+seat. “Let him tell us his tale. I repeat, Geos, that for all his beauty
+this one is an impostor. When he has spoken I shall confute him. I ask
+only that in the end he be turned over to me.”
+
+It was plain that the Thomahlia was blest with odd rulers. If the Bar
+Senestro was a priest, he was clearly still more of a soldier. The fiery
+challenge of the man struck an answering chord in Watson; he knew the
+time must come when he should weigh himself up against this Alexander,
+and it was anything but displeasing to him.
+
+“What must I say and do?” he asked the Rhamda Geos. “What do they want
+me to tell them?”
+
+“Just what you have told me: tell them of the Nervina, and of the Rhamda
+Avec. The prince is a man of the world, but from the Rhamdas you will
+have justice.”
+
+Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals. They seemed accustomed to the
+outbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting complacently. In
+a few words Watson described the Nervina and Avec; their appearance,
+manners--everything. Fortunately he did not have to dissemble. When he
+had finished there was a faint murmur of approval.
+
+“It is proven,” declared the girl queen. “It is truly my cousin, the
+Nervina. I knew not the Rhamda, but from your faces it must have been
+he, Senestro, what say you to this?”
+
+But the Bar was totally unconvinced.
+
+“All this is childish. Did I not say he is of our world--D'Hartian or
+Kospian, or some other? Does not all Thomahlia know of the Nervina? Few
+have seen the Rhamda Avec, but what of it? Some have. What this stranger
+says proves nothing at all. I say, give him a test.”
+
+“The test?” from Geos, in a hushed tone.
+
+“Just that. There is none who knows the likeness of the Jarados; none
+but the absent Avec. None among us has ever seen his image. It is a
+secret to all save the High Rhamda. Yet, in cases like this, well may
+the Leaf be opened.”
+
+Watson, wondering what was meant, listened closely to the prince as he
+continued: “It is written that there are times when all may see. Surely
+this is such a time.
+
+“Now let this stranger describe the Jarados. He says that he had seen
+him; that he is the Prophet's prospective son-in-law. Good! Let him
+describe the Jarados to us!
+
+“Then open the Leaf! If he speaks true, we shall know him to be from the
+Jarados. If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes of my own.”
+
+Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of quick
+decision. Watson knew that the moment had come to test his luck to the
+uttermost. There was but one thing to do; he did it. He said to the
+Rhamda Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference:
+
+“I am willing.”
+
+Geos was distinctively relieved, “It is good, my lord. Tell us in simple
+words. Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just as you would
+have us see him. Afterwards we shall open the Leaf.” And in a lower
+tone: “If you speak accurately I shall be vindicated, my lord. I doubt
+not that you are a better man than the prince; but place your reliance
+in the Truth; it will be one more proof of the occult, and of the Day
+approaching.”
+
+Which is all that Watson told. But first he breathed a prayer to One who
+is above all things occult or physical. He did not understand where he
+was nor how he had got there; he only knew that his fate was hanging on
+a toss of chance.
+
+He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes and
+speaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he recalled of
+the old professor. He tried to describe him just as he had appeared that
+day in the ethics class, when he made the great announcement; the trim,
+stubby figure of Professor Holcomb, the pink, healthy skin, the wise,
+grey, kindly eyes, and the close-cropped, pure white beard: all, just as
+Chick had known him. One chance in millions; he took it.
+
+“That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise, BEARDED
+man.”
+
+There was not a breath or a murmur in comment. All hung upon his words;
+there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking, only the throb
+of his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution in his veins. He had
+spoken. If only there might be a resemblance!
+
+The Geos stepped forward a pace. “It is well said. If the truth has been
+spoken, there shall be room for no dispute. It shall be known throughout
+all Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has spoken. Let the Leaf be
+opened!”
+
+Chick never knew just what happened, much less how it was accomplished.
+He knew only that a black, opaque wave ran up the long windows, shutting
+off the light, so that instantly the darkness of night enveloped
+everything, blotting out all that maze of colour; it was the blackness
+of the void. Then came a tiny light, a mere dot of flame, over on the
+opposite wall; a pin-point of light it was, seemingly coming out of
+a vast distance like an approaching star, growing gradually larger,
+spreading out into a screen of radiance that presently was flashing
+with intrinsic life. The corruscation grew brighter; little tufts of
+brilliance shot out with all the stabbing suddenness of shooting stars.
+To Chick it was exactly as though some god were pushing his way through
+and out of fire. In the end the flame burst asunder, diminished into a
+receding circle and sputtered out.
+
+And in the place of the strange light there appeared the illuminated
+figure of a man. Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his eyes and looked
+again.
+
+It was the bust of Professor Holcomb.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR
+
+
+Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage--Rhamdas, guards, the occupants
+of the two thrones--he himself was the most astounded. Was the great
+professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not, how explain this
+miracle? But if he were, how to explain the duality, the identity?
+Surely, it could not be sheer chance!
+
+Fortunately for Chick, it was dark. All eyes were fixed on the trim
+figure which occupied the space of the clover-leaf on the rear wall.
+Except for Chick's strangled gasp, there was only the hushed silence of
+reverence, deep and impressive.
+
+Then another dot appeared. From its position, Watson took it to come
+from another leaf of the clover; another light approaching out of the
+void and cutting through the blackness exactly as the first had come.
+It grew and spread until it had filled the whole leaf; then, again
+the bursting of the flare, the diminishing of the light, and its
+disappearance in a thin rim at the edge. And this time there was
+revealed--
+
+A handsome brown-haired DOG.
+
+Watson of course, could not understand. The silence held; he could feel
+the Rhamda Geos at his side, and hear him murmur something which, in
+itself, was quite unintelligible:
+
+“The four-footed one! The call to humility, sacrifice, and
+unselfishness! The four-footed one!”
+
+That was all. It was a shaggy shepherd dog, with a pointed nose and one
+ear cocked up and the other down, very wisely inquisitive. Chick had
+seen similar dogs many times, but he could not account for this one;
+certainly not in such a place. What had it to do with the Jarados?
+
+Still the darkness. It gave him a chance to think. He wondered, rapidly,
+how he could link up such a creature with his description of the
+Jarados. What could be the purpose of a canine in occult philosophy? Or,
+was the whole thing, after all, mere blundering chance?
+
+This is what bothered Chick. He did not know how to adjust himself;
+life, place, sequence, were all out of order. Until he could gather
+exact data, he must trust to intuition as before.
+
+The two pictures vanished simultaneously. Down came the black waves from
+the windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was once more flooded
+with that mellow radiance. The Rhamda Geos stepped forward as a murmur
+of awed approval arose from the assembly. There was no applause. One
+does not applaud the miraculous. The Geos took his hand.
+
+“It is proven!” he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: “Is there any
+question, my brothers?”
+
+But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had triumphed
+over all else. The men of learning turned none but reverent faces toward
+Watson.
+
+He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph he
+was apprehensive of the princes's keen genius. An agnostic is seldom
+converted by what could be explained away as mere coincidence. Moreover,
+as it ultimately appeared, the Bar now had more than one reason for
+antagonising the man who claimed to be the professor's prospective
+son-in-law.
+
+“Is there any question?” repeated Rhamda Geos.
+
+But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was standing
+before her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin revealed the
+tender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close scrutiny, and then
+addressed the Geos:
+
+“I want to put one question, Rhamda. The stranger seems to be a goodly
+young man. He has come from the Jarados. Tell me, is he truly of the
+chosen?”
+
+But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted the
+answer. The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking laughter.
+
+“The chosen, O Aradna? The chosen? Do not allow yourself to be tricked
+by a little thing! I myself have been chosen by the inherited law of the
+Thomahlia!” Then to Chick: “I see, Sir Phantom, that our futures are to
+be intertwined with interest!”
+
+“I don't know what you mean.”
+
+“No? Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I shall
+teach you the value of materiality. You are well made and handsome,
+likewise courageous. May the time soon come when you can put your mettle
+to the test in a fair conflict!”
+
+“It is your own saying, O Senestro!” warned Geos. “You must abide by my
+Lord's reply.”
+
+“True; and I shall abide. I know nothing of black magic, or any other.
+But I care not. I know only that I cannot accept this stranger as a
+spirit. I have felt his muscles, and I know his strength; they are a
+man's, and a Thomahlian's.”
+
+“Then you do not abide?”
+
+“Yes, I do. That is, I do not claim him. He has won his freedom. But
+as for endorsing him--no, not until he has given further proof. Let him
+come to the Spot of Life. Let him take the ordeal. Let him qualify on
+the Day of the Prophet.”
+
+“My lord, do you accept?”
+
+Watson had no idea what the “ordeal” might be, nor what might be the
+significance of the day. But he could not very well refuse. He spoke as
+lightly as he could.
+
+“Of course. I accept anything.” Then, addressing the prince: “One word,
+O Senestro.”
+
+“Speak up, Sir Phantom!”
+
+“Bar Senestro--what have you done with the Jarados?”
+
+An instant's stunned silence greeted this stab. It was broken by the
+prince.
+
+“The Jarados!” His voice was unruffled. “What know I of the Jarados?”
+
+“Take care! You have seen him--you know his power!”
+
+“You have a courageous sort of impertinence!”
+
+“I have determination and knowledge! Bar Senestro, I have come for the
+Jarados!” Chick paused for effect. “Now what think you? Am I of the
+chosen?”
+
+He had meant it as a deliberate taunt, and so it was taken. The Bar shot
+to his feet. Not that he was angered; his straight, handsome form was
+kingly, and for all his impulsiveness there was a certain real majesty
+about his every pose.
+
+“You are of the chosen. It is well; you have given spice to the taunt!
+I would not have it otherwise. Forget not your courage on the Day of the
+Prophet!”
+
+With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneath
+his throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to the
+assembly--and was gone. The blue guard followed in silence.
+
+The rest of the ordeal was soon done. Nothing more was said about the
+Jarados, nor of what the Bar Senestro had brought up. There were a few
+questions about the world he had quit, questions which put no strain
+upon his imagination to answer. He was out of the deep water for the
+present.
+
+When the assembly dissolved Chick was conducted back to the apartments
+upstairs. Not to his old room, however, but to an adjoining suite, a
+magnificent place--that would have done honour to a prince. But Chick
+scarcely noted the beauty of the place. His attention flew at once to
+something for which he longed--an immense globe.
+
+Chick spun it around eagerly upon its axis. The first thing that he
+looked for was San Francisco--or, rather, North America. If he was on
+the earth he wanted to know it! Surely the oceans and continents would
+not change.
+
+But he was doomed to disappointment. There was not a familiar detail.
+Outside of a network of curved lines indicating latitude and longitude,
+and the accustomed tilt of the polar axis, the globe was totally
+strange! So strange that Chick could not decide which was water and
+which land.
+
+After a bit of puzzling Chick ran across a yellow patch marked with
+some strange characters which, upon examination, were translated in some
+unknown manner within his subconscious mind, to “D'Hartia.” Another was
+lettered “Kospia.”
+
+Assuming that these were land--and there were a few other, smaller ones,
+of the same shade--then the land area covered approximately three-fifths
+of the globe. Inferentially the green remainder, or two-fifths, was the
+water or ocean covered area. Such a proportion was nearly the precise
+reverse of that obtaining on the earth. Chick puzzled over other strange
+names--H'Alara, Mal Somnal, Bloudou San, and the like. Not one name or
+outline that he could place!
+
+How could he make his discovery fit with the words of Dr. Holcomb, and
+with what philosophy he knew? Somehow there was too much life, too much
+reality, to fit in with any spiritistic hypothesis. He was surrounded by
+real matter, atomic, molecular, cellular. He was certain that if he were
+put to it he could prove right here every law from those put forth by
+Newton to the present.
+
+It was still the material universe; that was certain. Therefor it was
+equally certain that the doctor had made a most prodigious discovery.
+But--what was it? What was the law that had fallen out of the Blind
+Spot?
+
+He gave it up, and stepped to one of the suite's numerous windows.
+They were all provided with clear glass. Now was his opportunity for an
+uninterrupted, leisurely survey of the world about him.
+
+As before, he noted the maze of splendid, dazzling opalescence, all the
+colours of the spectrum blending, weaving, vibrant, like a vast plain
+of smooth, Gargantuan jewels. Then he made out innumerable round domes,
+spread out in rows and in curves, without seeming order or system;
+BUILDINGS, every roof a perfect gleaming dome, its surface fairly alive
+with the reflected light of that amazing sun. Of such was the landscape
+made.
+
+As before, he could hear the incessant undertone of vague music, of
+rhythmical, shimmering and whispering sound. And the whole air was laden
+with the hint of sweet scents; tinged with the perfume of attar and
+myrrh--of a most delicate ambrosia.
+
+He opened the window.
+
+For a moment he stood still, the air bathing his face, the unknown
+fragrance filling his nostrils. The whole world seemed thrumming with
+that hitherto faint quiver of sound. Now it was resonant and strong,
+though still only an undertone. He looked below him; as he did so,
+something dropped from the side of the window opening--a long, delicate
+tendril, sinuous and alive. It touched his face, and then--It drooped,
+drooped like a wounded thing. He reached out his hand and plucked it,
+wondering. And he found, at its tip, a floating crimson blossom as
+delicate as the frailest cobweb, so inconceivably delicate that it
+wilted and crumbled at the slightest touch.
+
+Chick thrust his head out of the window. The whole building, from ground
+to dome, was covered--waving, moving, tenuous, a maze of colour--with
+orchids!
+
+He had never dreamed of anything so beautiful, or so splendid.
+Everywhere these orchids; to give them the name nearest to the unknown
+one. As far as he could see, living beauty!
+
+And then he noticed something stranger still.
+
+From the petals and the foliage about him, little clouds of colour
+wafted up, like mists of perfume, forever rising and intermittently
+settling. It was mysteriously harmonious, continuous--like life itself.
+Chick looked closer, and listened. And then he knew.
+
+These mists were clouds of tiny, multi-coloured insects.
+
+He looked down farther, into the streets. They were teeming with life,
+with motion. He was in a city whose size made it a true metropolis.
+All the buildings were large, and, although of unfamiliar architecture,
+undeniably of a refined, advanced art. Without exception, their roofs
+were domed. Hence the effect of a sea of bubbles.
+
+Directly below, straight down from his window, was a very broad street.
+From it at varying angles ran a number of intersecting avenues. The
+height of his window was great--he looked very closely, and made out
+two lines of colour lining and outlining the street surrounding the
+apartments.
+
+On the one side the line was blue, on the other crimson; they were
+guards. And where the various avenues intersected cables must have
+been stretched; for these streets were packed and jammed with a surging
+multitude, which the guards seemed engaged in holding back. As far up
+the avenues as Chick could see, the seething mass of fellow creatures
+extended, a gently pulsing vari-coloured potential commotion.
+
+As he looked one of the packed streets broke into confusion. He could
+see the guards wheeling and running into formation; from behind, other
+platoons rushed up reinforcements. The great crowd was rolling forward,
+breaking on the edge of the spear-armed guards like the surf of a
+rolling sea.
+
+Chick had a sudden thought. Were they not looking up at his window? He
+could glimpse arms uplifted and hands pointed. Even the guards, those
+held in reserve, looked up. Then--such was the distance--the rumble of
+the mob reached his ears; at the same time, spreading like a grass fire,
+the commotion broke out in another street, to another and another, until
+the air was filled with the new undertone of countless human tongues.
+
+Chick was fascinated. The thing was over-strange. While he looked and
+listened the whole scene turned to conflict; the voice of the throng
+became ominous. The guards still held the cables, still beat back the
+populace. Could they hold out, wondered Chick idly; and what was it all
+about?
+
+Something touched his shoulder. He wheeled. One of the tall,
+red-uniformed guards was standing beside him. Watson instinctively drew
+back, and as he did so the other stepped forward, touched the snap, and
+closed the window.
+
+“What's the idea? I was just getting interested!”
+
+The soldier nodded pleasantly, respectfully--reverently.
+
+“Orders from below, my lord. Were you to remain at that window it would
+take all the guards in the Mahovisal to keep back the Thomahlians.”
+
+“Why?” Chick was astonished.
+
+“There are a million pilgrims in the city, my lord, who have waited
+months for just one glimpse of you.”
+
+Watson considered. This was a new and a dazing aspect of the affair.
+Evidently the expression on his face told the soldier that some
+explanation would not be amiss.
+
+“The pilgrims are almost innumerable, my lord. They are all of the one
+great faith. They are, my lord, the true believers, the believers in the
+Day.”
+
+The Day! Instantly Watson recalled Senestro's use of the expression. He
+sensed a valuable clue. He caught and held the soldier's eye.
+
+“Tell me,” commanded Chick. “What is this Day of which you speak!”
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+AN ALLY, AND SOLID GROUND
+
+
+The soldier replied unhesitatingly: “It is the Day of Life, my lord.
+Others call it the 'first of the Sixteen Days.' Still others, simply the
+Day of the Prophet, or Jarados.”
+
+“When will it be?”
+
+“Soon. It is but two days hence. And with the going down of the sun on
+that day the Fulfilment is to begin, and the Life is to come. Hence the
+crowd below, my lord; yet they are nothing compared with the crowds that
+today are pressing their way from all D'Hartia and Kospia towards the
+Mahovisal.”
+
+“All because of the Day?”
+
+“And to see YOU, my lord.”
+
+“All believers in the Jarados?”
+
+“All truly; but they do not all believe in your lordship. There are
+many sects, including the Bars, that consider you an imposter; but the
+rest--perhaps the most--believe you the Herald of the Day. All want to
+see you, for whatever motive.”
+
+“These Bars; who are they?”
+
+“The military priesthood, my lord. As priests they teach a literal
+interpretation of the prophecy; as soldiers they maintain their own
+aggrandisement. To be more specific, my lord, it is they who accuse you
+of being one of the false ones.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because it is written in the prophecy, my lord, that we may expect
+impostors, and that we are to slay them.”
+
+“Then this coming contest with the Senestro--” beginning to sense the
+drift of things.
+
+“Yes, my lord; it will be a physical contest, in which the best man
+destroys the other!”
+
+The guard was a tall, finely made and truly handsome chap of perhaps
+thirty-five. Watson liked the clear blue of his eyes and the openness
+of his manner. At the same time he felt that he was being weighed and
+balanced.
+
+“My lord is not afraid?”
+
+“Not at all! I was just thinking--when does this kill take place?”
+
+“Two days hence, my lord; on the first of the Sixteen Sacred Days.”
+
+And thus Chick found a staunch friend. The soldier's name, he learned,
+was “the Jan Lucar.” He was supreme in command of the royal guards; and
+Chick soon came to feel that the man would as cheerfully lay down his
+life for him, Watson, as for the queen herself. All told, Chick was able
+to store away in his memory a few very important facts:
+
+First, that the Aradna did not like the Senestro.
+
+Second, that the Jan Lucar hated the great Bar because of the prince's
+ambition to wed the queen and her cousin, the Nervina; also because of
+his selfish, autocratic ways.
+
+Next, that were the Nervina on hand she would thwart the Senestro; for
+she was a very learned woman, as advanced as the Rhamda Avec himself.
+But that she was a queen first and a scholar afterwards; her motive in
+going through the Blind Spot was to take care of the political welfare
+of her people, her purposes were as high as Rhamda Avec's, but partook
+of statesmanship rather than spirituality.
+
+Finally, that the Rhamdas were perfectly willing for the coming contest
+to take place, on the evening of the Day of the Prophet, in the Temple
+of the Bell and Leaf.
+
+“Jan Lucar,” Watson felt prompted to say, “you need have no fear as to
+the outcome of the ordeal, whatever it may be. With your faith in me,
+I cannot fail. For the present, I need books, papers, scientific data.
+Moreover, I want to see the outside of this building.”
+
+The guardsman bowed. “The data is possible, my lord, but as to leaving
+the building--I must consult the queen and the Rhamda Geos first.”
+
+“But I said MUST” Watson dared to say. “I must go out into your world,
+see your cities, your lands, rivers, mountains, before I do aught else.
+I must be sure!”
+
+The other bowed again. He was visibly impressed.
+
+“What you ask, my lord, is full of danger. You must not be seen in
+the streets--yet. Untold bloodshed would ensue inevitably. To half the
+Thomahlians you are sacred, and to the other half an impostor. I repeat,
+my lord, that I must see the Geos and the queen.”
+
+Another bow and the Jan disappeared, to return in a few moments with the
+Geos.
+
+“The Jan has told me, my lord, that you would go out.”
+
+“If possible. I want to see your world.”
+
+“I think it can be arranged. Is your lordship ready to go?”
+
+“Presently.” Watson laid a hand on the big globe he had already puzzled
+over. “This represents the Thomahlia?”
+
+“Yes, my lord.”
+
+“How long is your day, Geos?”
+
+“Twenty-four hours.”
+
+“I mean, how many revolutions in one circuit of the sun, in one
+year-circle?”
+
+As he uttered the question Chick held his breath. It had suddenly struck
+him that he had touched an extremely definite point. The answer might
+PLACE him!
+
+“You mean, my lord, how long is a circle in term of days?”
+
+“Yes!”
+
+“Three hundred and sixty-five and a fraction, my lord.”
+
+Watson was dumbfounded. Could there be, in all the universe, another
+world with precisely the same revolution period? But he could not afford
+to show his concern. He said:
+
+“Tell me, have you a moon?”
+
+“Yes; it has a cycle of about twenty-eight days.”
+
+Watson drew a deep breath. Inconceivable though it appeared, he was
+still on his own earth. For a moment he pondered, wondering if he had
+been caught up in tangle of time-displacement. Could it be that, instead
+of living in the present, he had somehow become entangled in the past or
+in the future?
+
+If so--and by now he was so accustomed to the unusual that he considered
+this staggering possibility with equanimity--if the time coefficient was
+at fault, then how to account for the picture of the professor, in that
+leaf? Had they both been the victims of a ghastly cosmic joke?
+
+There was but one way to find out.
+
+“Come! Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!”
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+LOOKING DOWN
+
+
+Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room, one
+entire side of which was wide open to the outer air. It was filled by a
+number of queer, shining objects. At first glance Chick took them to be
+immense beetles.
+
+The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos:
+
+“We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec.”
+
+Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran up to
+one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun
+it gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic
+floor.
+
+“I presume,” apologised the Geos, “that you have much finer aircraft in
+your world.”
+
+Aircraft! Watson was all eagerness. He saw that the June Bug was about
+ten feet high, with a bunchy, buglike body. On closer scrutiny he could
+make out the outlines of wings folded tight against the sides. As for
+the material, it must have been metal, to use a term which does not
+explain very much, after all. In every respect the machine was a
+duplicate of some great insect, except that instead of legs it had
+well-braced rollers.
+
+“How does it operate?” Watson wanted to know. “That is, what power do
+you use, and how do you apply it?”
+
+The Jan Lucar threw back a plate. Watson looked inside, and saw a mass
+of fine spider-web threads, softer than the tips of rabbit's hair, all
+radiating from a central grey object about the size of a pea. Chick
+reached out to touch this thing with his finger.
+
+But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled him
+back.
+
+“Pardon me, my lord!” he exclaimed. “But you must not touch it!
+You--even you, would be annihilated!” Then to the Lucar: “Very well.”
+
+Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a
+lever, perhaps. Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull red.
+
+“Now you may touch it,” said the Geos.
+
+But Chick's desire had vanished. Instead he ventured a question:
+
+“All very interesting, but where is your machinery?”
+
+The Rhamda was slightly amused. He smiled a little. “You must give us a
+little credit, my lord. We must seem backward to you, but we have passed
+beyond reliance upon simple machines. That little grey pellet is, of
+course, our motive force; it is a highly refined mineral, which we mine
+in vast quantity. It has been in use for centuries. As for the hair-like
+web, that is our idea of a transmission.”
+
+Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt. The
+other continued:
+
+“In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as
+possible. We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and instead
+tried to duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the birds and
+insects. We fly exactly as they do; our motive force is intrinsic. In
+some respects, we have improved upon life.”
+
+“But it is still only a machine, Geos.”
+
+“To be sure, my lord; only a machine. Anything without the life
+principle must remain so.”
+
+The Jan Lucar pressed another catch, allowing another plate to lower
+and thereby disclose a glazed door, which opened into a cosy apartment
+fitted with wicker chairs, and large enough for four persons. There
+was some sort of control gear, which the Jan Lucar explained was not
+connected directly with the flying and steering members, but indirectly
+through the membranes of the web-like system. It was uncannily similar
+to the nervous connections of the cerebellum with the various parts of
+the anatomy of an insect.
+
+“Does it travel very fast?”
+
+“We think so, my lord. This is the private machine of the Rhamda Avec.
+It is rather small, but the swiftest machine in the Thomahlia.”
+
+They entered the compartment, Watson took his seat beside the Geos,
+while the soldier sat forward next to the control elements. He laid
+his hands on certain levers; next instant, the machine was gliding
+noiselessly over the mosaic, on to a short incline and thence, with ever
+increasing speed, toward and through the open side of the room.
+
+The slides had all been thrown back; the compartment was enclosed only
+in glass. Watson could get a clear view, and he was amazed at the
+speed of the craft. Before he could think they were out in mid-air and
+ascending skyward. Travelling on a steep slant, there was no vibration,
+no mechanical noise; scarcely the suggestion of movement, except for the
+muffled swish of the air.
+
+Were it not for the receding city below him, Chick could have imagined
+himself sitting in a house while a windstorm tore by. He felt no change
+in temperature or any other ill effects; the cabin was fully enclosed,
+and heated by some invisible means. In short, ideal flight: for
+instance, the seats were swung on gimbals, so that no matter at
+what angle the craft might fly, the passengers would maintain level
+positions.
+
+Below stretched the Mahovisal--a mighty city of domes and plazas, and,
+widely scattered, a few minarets. At the southern end there was a vast,
+square plaza, covering thousands of acres. Toward it, on two sides,
+converged scores of streets; they stretched away from it like the ribs
+of a giant fan. On the remaining two sides there was a tremendously
+large building with a V-shaped front, opening on the square. The play
+of opal light on its many-bubbled roof resembled the glimmer from a vast
+pearl.
+
+In the air above the city an uncountable number of very small objects
+darted hither and thither like sparkling fireflies. It was difficult to
+realise that they, too, were aircraft.
+
+To the west lay an immense expanse of silver, melting smoothly into the
+horizon. Watson took it to be the Thomahlian ocean. Then he looked up at
+the sky directly above him, and breathed a quick exclamation.
+
+It was a single, small object, perfectly white, dropping out of the
+amethyst. Tiny at first, amost instantly it assumed a proportion nearly
+colossal--a great bird, white as the breast of the snowdrift, swooping
+with the grace of the eagle and the speed of the wind. It was so very
+large that it seemed, to Chick, that if all the other birds he had
+ever known were gathered together into one they would still be as the
+swallow. Down, down it came in a tremendous spiral, until it gracefully
+alighted in a splash of molten colour on the bosom of the silver sea.
+For a moment it was lost in a shower of water jewels--and then lay
+still, a swan upon the ocean.
+
+“What is it, Geos?”
+
+“The Kospian Limited, my lord. One of our great airships--a fast one, we
+consider it.”
+
+“It must accommodate a good many people, Rhamda.”
+
+“About nine thousand.”
+
+“You say it comes from Kospia. How far away is that?”
+
+“About six thousand miles. It is an eight-hour run, with one stop. Just
+now the service is every fifteen minutes. They are coming, of course,
+for the Day of the Prophet.”
+
+Watson continued to watch the great airship, noting the swarm of smaller
+craft that came out from the Mahovisal to greet it, until the Jan Lucar
+suddenly altered the course. They stopped climbing, and struck out on a
+horizontal level. It left the Mahovisal behind them, a shimmering spot
+of fire beside the gleaming sea. They were travelling eastwards. The
+landscape below was level and unvaried, of a greenish hue, and much
+like that of Chick's own earth in the early spring-time--a vast expanse,
+level and sometimes dotted with opalescent towns and cities. Ribbons of
+silver cut through the plain at intervals, crookedly lazy and winding,
+indicating a drainage from north to south or vice versa. Looking back to
+the west, he could see the great, golden sun, poised as he had seen it
+that morning, a huge amber plate on the rim of the world. It was sunset.
+
+Then Chick looked straight ahead. Far in the distance a great wall
+loomed skyward to a terrific height. So vast was it and so remote, at
+first it had escaped the eye altogether. An incredibly high range
+of mountains, glowing with a faint rose blush under the touch of the
+setting sun. Against the sky were many peaks, each of them tipped with
+curious and sparkling diamond-like corruscations. As Chick continued to
+gaze the rose began to purple.
+
+The Jan Lucar put the craft to another upward climb. So high were they
+now that the Thomahlia below was totally lost from view; it was but
+a maze of lurking shadows. The sun was only a gash of amber--it was
+twilight down on the ground. And Watson watched the black line of the
+Thomahlian shadow climb the purple heights before him until only the
+highest crests and the jewelled crags flashed in the sun's last rays.
+Then, one by one, they flickered out; and all was darkness.
+
+Still they ascended. Watson became uneasy, sitting there in the night.
+
+“Where are we going?”
+
+“To the Carbon Regions, my lord. It is one of the sights of the
+Thomahlia.”
+
+“On top of those mountains?”
+
+“Beyond, my lord.”
+
+Whereupon, to Chick's growing amazement, the Geos went on to state that
+carbon of all sorts was extremely common throughout their world. The
+same forces that had formed coal so generously upon the earth had thrown
+up, almost as lavishly, huge quantities of pure diamond. The material
+was of all colours, as diamonds run, and considered of small value; for
+every day purposes they preferred substances of more sombre hues. They
+used it, it seemed, to build houses with.
+
+“But how do they cut it?”
+
+“Very easily. The material which drives this craft--Ilodium--will cut it
+like butter.”
+
+Later, Watson understood. He watched as the craft continued to climb;
+the Jan Lucar was steering without the aid of any outside lights
+whatever, there being only a small light illuminating his instruments.
+Chick presently turned his gaze outside again; whereupon he got another
+jolt.
+
+He saw a NEGATIVE sky!
+
+At first he thought his eyes the victims of an illusion; then he looked
+closer. And he saw that it was true; instead of the familiar starry
+points of light against a velvet background, the arrangement was
+just the reverse. Every constellation was in its place, just as Chick
+remembered it from the earth; but instead of stars there were jet-black
+spots upon a faint, grey background.
+
+The whole sky was one huge Milky Way, except for the black spots. And
+from it all there shone just about as much total light as from the
+heavens he had known.
+
+Of all he experienced, this was the most disturbing. It seemed totally
+against all reason; for he knew the stars to be great incandescent
+globes in space. How explain that they were here represented in reverse,
+their brilliance scattered and diffused over the surrounding sky,
+leaving points of blackness instead? Afterward he learned that the
+peculiar chemical constituency of the atmosphere was solely responsible
+for the inversion of the usual order of things.
+
+All of a sudden the Jan Lucar switched the craft to a level. He held up
+one hand and pointed.
+
+“Look, my lord, and the Rhamda! Look!”
+
+Both men rose from their seats, the better to stare past the soldier.
+Straight ahead, where had been one of the corruscating peaks, a streak
+of blue fire shot skyward, a column of light miles high, differing
+from the beams of a searchlight in that the rays were WAVY, serpentine,
+instead of straight. It was weirdly beautiful. Geos caught his breath;
+he leaned forward and touched the Jan Lucar.
+
+“Wait,” he said in an awed tone. “Wait a moment. It has never come
+before, but we can expect it now.” And even as he spoke, something
+wonderful happened.
+
+From the base of the column two other streaks, one red and the other
+bright green, cut out through the blackness on either side. The three
+streams started from the same point; they made a sort of trident, red,
+green, and blue--twisting, alive--strangely impressive, suggestive of
+grandeur and omnipotence--holy.
+
+Again the Rhamda spoke. “Wait!” said he. “Wait!”
+
+They were barely moving now. Watson watched and wondered. The three
+streams of light ran up and up, as though they would pierce the heavens;
+the eye could not follow their ends. All in utter silence, nothing but
+those beams of glorified light, their reality a hint of power, of life
+and wisdom--of the certainty of things. Plainly it had a tremendous
+significance in the minds of the Geos and the Lucar.
+
+Then came the climax. Slowly, but somehow inexorably, like the laws of
+life itself, and somewhere at a prodigious height above the earth, the
+three outer ends of the red and the green and the blue spread out
+and flared back upon themselves and one another, until their combined
+brilliance bridged a great rainbow across the sky. Blending into all
+the colours of the prism, the bow became--for a moment--pregnant with
+an overpowering beauty, symbolical, portentous of something stupendous
+about to come out of the unknown to the Thomahlians. And next--
+
+The bow began to move, to swirl, and to change in shape and colour. The
+three great rivers of light billowed and expanded and rounded into a new
+form. Then they burst--into a vast, three-leafed clover--blue and red
+and green!
+
+And Watson caught the startled words of the Geos:
+
+“The Sign of the Jarados!”
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+THE VOICE FROM THE VOID
+
+
+Even while that inexplicable heavenly pageant still burned against the
+heavens, something else took place, a thing of much greater importance
+to Chick. And, it happened right before his eyes.
+
+In the front of the car was a dial, slightly raised above the level of
+the various controlling instruments. And all of a sudden this dial, a
+small affair about six inches across, broke into light and life.
+
+First, there was a white blaze that covered the whole disc; then the
+whiteness abruptly gave way to a flood of colour, which resolved itself
+into a perfect miniature of the tri-coloured cloverleaf in the sky
+ahead. Chick saw, however that the positions of the red and green were
+just the obverse of what glowed in the distance; and then he heard the
+voice, strong and distinct, speaking with a slight metallic twang as
+from a microphone hidden in that little, blazing, coloured leaf:
+
+“Listen, ye who have ears to listen!”
+
+It was said in the Thomahlian tongue. The Geos breathed:
+
+“The voice of the Prophet Jarados!”
+
+But the next moment the unseen speaker began in another language--clear,
+silver, musical--in English, and in a voice that Chick recognised!
+
+“Chick! You have done well, my boy. Your courage and your intuition may
+lead us out. Follow the prophecy to the letter, Chick; it MUST come
+to pass, exactly as it is written! Don't fail to read it, there on the
+walls of the Temple of the Bell, when you encounter the Bar Senestro on
+the Day of the Prophet!
+
+“I have discovered many things, my boy, but I am not omnipotent. Your
+coming has made possible my last hope that I may return to my own kind,
+and take with me the secrets of life. You have done right to trust your
+instinct; have no fear, yet remember that if you--if we--make one false
+step we are lost.
+
+“Finally, if you should succeed in your contest with the Senestro, I
+shall send for you; but if you fail, I know how to die.
+
+“Return at once to the Mahovisal. Don't cross into the Region of Carbon.
+Take care how you go back; the Bars are waiting. But you can put full
+confidence in the Rhamdas.”
+
+Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the
+Thomahlian tongue again: “It is I who speak--I, the Prophet; the Prophet
+Jarados!”
+
+All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased. Chick was
+glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic, and too good
+to believe. The first actual words from the missing professor! Each
+syllable was frozen into Watson's memory.
+
+The Geos was clutching his arm.
+
+“Did you understand, my lord? We heard the voice of the prophet! What
+did he say?”
+
+“Yes, I understand. He used his own language--my language. And he
+said”--taking the reins firmly into his hands--“he said that we must
+return to the Thomahlia. And we must beware of the Bars.”
+
+There was no thought of questioning him. Without waiting the Geos'
+command, the Jan Lucar began putting the craft about. Watson glanced at
+the sky; the great spectacle was gone; and he demanded of the soldier:
+
+“How can we get back? How do we find our way?”
+
+For there was no visible light save the strange, fitful glow from
+that uncanny sky to guide them; no lights from the inky carpet of the
+Thomahlia, lights such as one would expect for the benefit of fliers.
+But the soldier touched a button, and instantly another and larger dial
+was illumined above the instruments.
+
+It revealed a map or chart of a vast portion of the Thomahlia. On the
+farther edge there appeared an area coloured to represent water, and
+adjoining this area was a square spot labeled “The Mahovisal.” And about
+midway from this point to the near edge of the dial a red dot hung,
+moving slowly over the chart.
+
+“The red dot, my lord, indicates our position,” explained the Jan. “In
+that manner we know at all times where we are located, and which way we
+are flying. We shall arrive in the Mahovisal shortly.”
+
+As he spoke the craft was gaining speed, and soon was travelling at
+an even greater rate than before. The red dot began to crawl at an
+astonishing speed. Of course, they had the benefit of the pull of
+gravity, now; apparently they would make the journey in a few minutes.
+But incredible though the speed might be, there was nothing but the red
+dot to show it.
+
+The Geos felt like talking. “My lord, the sign is conclusive. It is a
+marvel, such as only the prophet could possibly have produced; with all
+our science we could not duplicate such splendour. Only once before has
+the Thomahlia seen it.”
+
+Already they were near enough to the surface to make out the clustered,
+blinking lights of the towns on the plain below. Ahead of them queer
+streamers of pale rays thrust through the darkness. Watson recognised
+them as the beams of the far-distant searchlights; and then and there
+he gave thanks for one thing, at least, in which the Thomahlians had
+seemingly progressed no further than the people of the earth.
+
+Coming a little nearer, Chick made out a number of bright, glittering,
+insect-like objects, revealed by these searchlights. The Jan Lucar said:
+
+“The Bars, my lord. They are waiting; and they will head us off if they
+can.”
+
+“The work of Senestro, I suppose. I thought he claimed to some honour.”
+
+“It is not the prince's work, my lord,” replied the soldier. “His
+D'Hartian and Kospian followers, some of them, have no scruples as to
+how they might slay the 'false one', as they think you.”
+
+“Suppose,” hazarded Watson, “suppose I WERE the false one?”
+
+Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very sure
+as he replied:
+
+“If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself.”
+
+They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable
+opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense as
+sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square on the
+lighted chart. And directly ahead, the air was becoming alive with the
+beam-revealed aircraft. How could they get by in safety?
+
+But Chick did not know the Jan Lucar. The soldier said:
+
+“My lord is not uneasy?”
+
+“Of course not,” with unconcern. “Why?”
+
+“Because I propose something daring. I am free to admit, my lord, that
+were the Geos and I alone, I should not attempt it. But not even the
+Bars,” with magnificent confidence, “can stand before us now! We have
+had the proof of the Jarados, and we know that no matter what the odds,
+he will carry us through.”
+
+“What are you going to do?”
+
+“I propose to shoot it, my lord.” And without explaining the Jan asked
+the Geos: “Are you agreeable? The June Bug will hold; the prophet will
+protect us.”
+
+“Surely,” returned the Rhamda. “There is nothing to fear, now, for those
+who are in the company of the chosen.”
+
+Watson wondering watched the Jan as he tilted the nose of the June Bug
+and began to climb at an all but perpendicular angle straight into the
+heavens. Mile after mile, in less than as many minutes, they hurtled
+towards the zenith, so that the lights of the city dimmed until only
+the searching shafts could be seen. Chick began to guess what they
+were going to do; that the Jan Lucar was nearly as reckless as he was
+handsome.
+
+At last the soldier brought the craft to a level. They soared along
+horizontally for a while; the Jan kept his eye fixed on the red dot. And
+when it was directly above the black square he stated:
+
+“It is considered a perilous feat, my lord. We are going to drop. If we
+make it from this height, not only will we break all records, but will
+have proved the June Bug the superior in this respect, as she is in
+speed. It is our only chance in any circumstances, but with the Jarados
+at our side, we need not fear that the craft will stand the strain. We
+shall go through them like stone; before they know it we shall be in the
+drome--in less than a minute.”
+
+“From this height?” Chick concealed a shudder behind a fair show of
+scepticism. “A minute is not much time.”
+
+“Does my lord fear the drop?”
+
+“Why should I? I have in mind the June Bug; she might be set afire
+through friction, in dropping so quickly through the air.” Watson had a
+vivid picture of a blazing meteorite, containing the charred bodies of
+three men, dropping out of--
+
+“My lord need not be concerned with that,” the Jan assured him. “The
+shell of the car is provided with a number of tiny pores, through
+which a heat-resisting fluid will be pumped during the manoeuvre. The
+temperature may be raised a little, but no more.
+
+“You see this plug,” touching a hitherto unused knob among the
+instruments. “By pulling that out, the mechanism of the craft is
+automatically adjusted to care for every phase of the descent. Nothing
+else remains to be done, after removing that plug, save to watch the red
+dot and prepare to step out upon the floor of our starting-place.”
+
+“Has the thing ever been done before?” Watson was sparring for time
+while he gathered his nerve.
+
+“I myself have seen it, my lord. The June Bug has been sent up many
+times, weighted with ballast; the plug was abstracted by clockwork; and
+in fifty-eight seconds she returned through the open end of the drone,
+without a hitch. It was beautiful. I have always envied her that plunge.
+And now I shall have the chance, with the hand of the Jarados as my
+guide and protector!”
+
+Chick had just time to reflect that, if by any chance he got through
+with this, he ought to be able to pass any test conceivable. He ought
+to be able to get away with anything. He started to murmur a prayer; but
+before he could finish, the Jan Lucar leaned over the dial-map for the
+last time, saw that the red dot was now exactly central over the square
+that represented the city, and unhesitatingly jerked out the plug.
+
+Of what happened next Watson remembered but little. The bottom seemed to
+have dropped out of the universe. He was conscious of a crushing blur
+of immensity, of a silent thundering within him--then mental chaos and a
+stunned oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+WHO IS THE JARADOS?
+
+
+It was all over. Chick opened his eyes to see the Jan throwing open the
+plate on the side of the compartment. Neither the soldier nor the Rhamda
+seemed to have noted Chick's daze. As for the Jan, his blue eyes were
+dancing with dare-devilry.
+
+“That's what I call living!” he grinned. “They can keep on looking for
+the June Bug all night!”
+
+Chick looked out. They were inside the great room from which they had
+started; the trip was over; the plunge had been made in safety. Chick
+took a long breath, and held out a hand.
+
+“A man after my own heart, Jan Lucar. I foresee that we may have great
+sport with the Senestro.”
+
+“Aye, my lord,” cheerfully. “The presumptuous usurper! I only wish I
+could kill him, instead of you.”
+
+“You are not the only one,” commented the Rhamda. “Half of the Rhamdas
+would cheerfully act as the chosen one's proxy.”
+
+And so ended the events of Chick Watson's first day beyond the Blind
+Spot, his first day on the Thomahlia; that is, disregarding the previous
+months of unconsciousness. He had good reason to pass a sleepless night
+in legitimate worry for the outcome of it all; but instead he slept the
+sound sleep of exhaustion, awakening the next morning much refreshed.
+
+He reminded himself, first of all, that today was the one immediately
+preceding that of his test--the Day of the Prophet. He had only a little
+more than twenty-four hours to prepare. What was the best and wisest
+proceeding?
+
+He called for the Geos. He told him what data he wanted. The Rhamda said
+that he could find everything in a library in that building, and inside
+a half-hour he returned with a pile of manuscripts.
+
+Left to himself, Chick found that he now had data relating to all the
+sciences, to religion, to education and political history and the law.
+The chronology of the Thomahlians, Chick found, dates back no less than
+fifteen thousand years. An abiding civilisation of that antiquity, it
+need not be said, presented somewhat different aspects from what is
+known on the earth.
+
+It seemed that the Jarados had come miraculously. That is, he had come
+out of the unknown, through a channel which he himself later termed the
+Spot of Life.
+
+He had taught a religion of enlightenment, embracing intelligence,
+love, virtue, and the higher ethics such as are inherent in all great
+philosophies. But he did not call himself a religionist. That was the
+queer point. He said that he had come to teach an advanced philosophy of
+life; and he expressly stated that his teachings were absolute only to a
+limited extent.
+
+“Man must seek and find,” was one of his epigrams; “and if he find no
+more truths, then he will find lies.” Which was merely a negative way of
+saying that some of his philosophy was only provisional.
+
+But on some points he was adamant. He had arrived at a time when the
+unthinking, self-glorifying Thomahlians had all but exterminated the
+lower orders of creation. The Jarados sought to remove the handicap
+which the people had set upon themselves, and gave them, in the place
+of kindness which they had forgotten, how to use, a burning desire for
+a positive knowledge, where before had been only blind faith. Also, he
+taught good-fellowship, as a means to this end. He taught beauty, love,
+and laughter, the three great cleansers of humanity. And yet, through it
+all--
+
+The Jarados was a mystic.
+
+He studied life after a manner of his own. He was a stickler for getting
+down to the very heart of things, for prodding around among causes until
+he found the cause itself. And thus he learned the secret of the occult.
+
+For so he taught. And presently the Jarados was recognized as an
+authority on what the Thomahlia called “the next world.” Only he showed
+that death, instead of being an ushering into a void, was merely a
+translation onto another plane of life, a higher plane and a more
+glorious one. In short, a thing to be desired and attained, not to be
+avoided.
+
+This put the Spot of Life on an entirely different basis. No longer
+was it a fearsome thing. The Jarados elevated death to the plane of
+motherhood--something to glory in. And Chick gathered that his famous
+prophecy--which he had yet to read, where it hung on the wall of the
+temple--gave every detail of the Jarados' profound convictions and
+teachings regarding the mystery of the next life.
+
+And now comes a curious thing. As Chick read these details, he became
+more and more conscious of--what shall it be called?--the presence of
+someone or something beside him, above and all about him, watching his
+every movement. He could not get away from the feeling, although it was
+broad daylight, and he was seemingly quite alone in the room. Chick was
+not frightened; but he could have sworn that a very real personality was
+enveloping his own as he read.
+
+Every word, somehow, reminded him of the miraculous sequence of facts
+as he knew them; the unerring accuracy with which he, quite unthinkingly
+and almost without volition, had solved problem after problem, although
+the chances were totally against him. He became more and more convinced
+that he himself had practically no control over his affairs; that he
+was in the hands of an irresistible Fate; and that--he could not help
+it--his good angel was none other than the prophet who, almost ninety
+centuries ago, had lived and taught upon the Thomahlia, and in the end
+had returned to the unknown.
+
+But how could such a thing be? Watson did not even know where he was!
+Small wonder that, again and again, he felt the need of assurance. He
+asked for the Jan Lucar.
+
+“In the first place,” began Chick without preamble, “you accept me, Jan
+Lucar; do you not?”
+
+“Absolutely, my lord.”
+
+“You conceive me to be out of the spiritual world, and yet flesh and
+blood like yourself?”
+
+“Of course,” with flat conviction.
+
+That settled it. Watson decided to find out something he had not had
+time to locate in the library.
+
+“The Rhamda may have told you, Jan Lucar, that I am here to seek the
+Jarados. Now, I suspect the Senestro. Can you imagine what he has done
+to the prophet?”
+
+“My lord,” remonstrated the other, “daring as the Bar might be, he could
+do nothing to the Jarados. He would not dare.”
+
+“Then he is afraid to run counter to the prophecy?”
+
+“Yes, my lord; that is, its literal interpretation. He is opposed only
+to the broader version as held by such liberals as the Rhamda Avec. The
+Bars are always warning the people against the false one.”
+
+“And the Senestro is at their head,” mused Chick aloud. “This brother of
+his who died--usually there are two such princes and chiefs?”
+
+“Yes, my lord.”
+
+“And the Senestro plans to marry both queens, according to the custom!”
+
+“My lord”--and the Jan suddenly snapped erect--“the Bar will do
+exceedingly well if he succeeds in marrying one of them! Certainly he
+shall never have the Aradna--not while I live and can fight!”
+
+“Good! How about the Nervina?”
+
+“He'll do well to find her first!”
+
+“True enough. What would you say was his code of honour?”
+
+“My lord, the Senestro actually has no code. He believes in nothing. He
+is so constituted, mentally and morally, that he cares for and trusts in
+none but himself. He is a sceptic pure and simple; he cares nothing for
+the Jarados and his teachings. He is an opportunist seeking for power,
+wicked, lustful, cruel--”
+
+“But a good sportsman!”
+
+“In what way, my lord?”
+
+“Didn't he allow me the choice of combat?”
+
+The Jan laughed, but his handsome face could not hide his contempt.
+
+“It is ever so with a champion, my lord. He has never been defeated in
+a matter of physical prowess. It would be far more to his glory to
+overcome you in combat of your own selection. It will be spectacular--he
+knows the value of dramatic climax--and he would kill you in a moment,
+before a million Thomahlians.”
+
+“It's a nice way to die,” said Watson. “You must grant that much.”
+
+“I don't know of any nice way to die, my lord. But it is a good way of
+living--to kill the Bar Senestro. I would that I could have the honour.”
+
+“How does it come that the Rhamdas, superintellectual as they are,
+can consent to such a contest? Is it not degrading, to their way of
+thinking? It smacks of barbarism.”
+
+“They do not look upon it in that light, my lord. Our civilisation has
+passed beyond snobbery. Of course there was a time, centuries ago when
+we were taught that any physical contest was brutal. But that was before
+we knew better.”
+
+“You don't believe it now?”
+
+“By no means, my lord. The most wonderful physical thing in the
+Thomahlia is the human body. We do not hide it. We admire beauty,
+strength, prowess. The live body is above all art; it is the work of God
+himself; art is but an imitation. And there is nothing so splendid as
+a physical contest--the lightning correlation of mind and body. It is a
+picture of life.”
+
+“Do the Rhamdas think this?”
+
+“Most assuredly. A Rhamda is always first an athlete.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Perfection, my lord. A perfect mind does not always dwell in a perfect
+body, but they strive for it as much as possible. The first test of a
+Rhamda is his body. After he passes that he must take the mental test.”
+
+“Mental?”
+
+“Moral first. The most rigid, perhaps of all; he must be a man above
+suspicion. The honour of a Rhamda must never be questioned. He must
+be upright and absolutely unselfish. He must be broad-minded,
+human, lovable, and a leader of men. After that, my lord, comes the
+intellectual test.”
+
+“He must be a learned man?”
+
+“Not exactly, your lordship. There are many very learned men who could
+not be Rhamdas; and there are many who have had no learning at all
+who eventually were admitted. The qualifications are intellectual,
+not educational; the mind is put to a rigid test. It is examined for
+alertness, perception, memory, reason, emotion, and control. There is no
+greater honour in all the Thomahlia.”
+
+“And they are all athletes?”
+
+“Every one, my lord. In all the world there is no finer body of men, I
+myself would hesitate before entering a match with even the old Rhamda
+Geos.”
+
+“How about the Rhamda Avec?”
+
+“Nor he, either; in the gymnasium he was always the superior, just as he
+topped all others morally and mentally.”
+
+Did this explain the Avec's physical prowess, on the one hand, and the
+fact that he would not stoop to take that ring by force, on the other?
+
+“Just one more thing, Jan Lucar. You have absolutely no fear that I may
+fail tomorrow?”
+
+“Not the slightest, my lord. You cannot fail!”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I have already said--because you are from the Jarados.”
+
+And Chick, facing the greatest experience of his life, submerged in a
+sea wherein only a few islands of fact were visible, had to be content
+with this: his only friends were those who were firmly convinced of
+something which, he knew only too well, was a flat fraud! All this
+backing was based upon a misled faith.
+
+No, not quite. Was there not that strange feeling that the Jarados
+himself was at his back? And had he not found that the prophet had
+been real? Did he not feel, as positively as he felt anything, that the
+Jarados was still a reality?
+
+Chick went to bed that night with a light heart.
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+THE TEMPLE OF THE BELL
+
+
+It was hard for Chick to remember all the details of that great day.
+Throughout all the morning and afternoon he remained in his apartments.
+Breakfast over, the Rhamdas told him his part in certain ceremonies,
+such as need not be detailed here. They were very solicitous as to
+his food and comfort, and as to his feelings and anticipations. His
+nonchalance pleased them greatly. Afterward he had a bath and rub-down.
+
+A combat to the death, was it to be? Suits me, thought Watson. He was
+never in finer form.
+
+The Jan Lucar was particularly interested. He pinched and stroked
+Chick's muscles with the caressing pride of a connoisseur. Watson
+stepped out of the fountain bath in all the vigour of health. He
+playfully reached out for the Lucar and tripped him up. He sought to
+learn just what the Thomahlians knew in the art of self-defence.
+
+The brief struggle that ensued taught him that he need expect no easy
+conquest. The Jan was quick, active and the possessor of a science
+peculiarly effective. The Thomahlians did not box in the manner of the
+Anglo-Saxons; their mode was peculiar. Chick foresaw that he would
+be compelled to combine the methods of three kinds of combat: boxing,
+ju-jitsu, and the good old catch-as-catch-can wrestling. If the Senestro
+were superior to the Jan, he would have a time indeed. Though Watson
+conquered, he could not but concede that the Jan was not only clever but
+scientific to an oily, bewildering degree. The Lucar paused.
+
+“Enough, my lord! You are a man indeed. Do not overdo; save yourself for
+the Senestro.”
+
+Clothes were brought, and Chick taken back to his apartment. The time
+passed with Rhamdas constantly at his side.
+
+The Geos was not present, nor the little queen. Chick sought permission
+to sit by the window--permission that was granted after the guards had
+placed screens that would withhold any view from outside, yet permit
+Chick to look out.
+
+As far as he could see, the avenues were packed with people. Only, this
+time the centres of the streets were clear; on the curbs he could see
+the opposing lines of the blue and crimson, holding back the waiting
+thousands. In the distance he could hear chimes, faint but distinct,
+like silver bells tinkling over water.
+
+At intervals rose strange choruses of weird, holy music. The full sweep
+of the city's domes and minarets was spread out before him. From eaves
+to basements the rolling luxuriance of orchidian beauty; banners, music,
+parade; a day of pageant, pomp, and fulfilment.
+
+He could catch the excitement in the air, the strange, laden
+undercurrent of spiritual salvation-something esoteric, undefinable, the
+ecstasy of a million souls pulsing to the throb of a supreme moment. He
+drew back, someone had touched him.
+
+“What is it?”
+
+It was one of the Rhamdas. He had in his hand a small metal clover, of
+the design of the Jarados.
+
+“What do I do?” asked Watson.
+
+“This,” said the Rhamda, “was sent to you by one of the Bars.”
+
+“By a Bar! What does it mean?”
+
+The other shook his head. “It was sent to you by one who wished it to be
+known by us that he is your friend, even though a Bar.”
+
+Just then Watson noted something sticking out of the edge of one of the
+clover leaves. He pulled it out. It was a piece of paper. On it were
+scrawled words IN ENGLISH.
+
+The writing was pencil script, done in a poor hand and ill-spelled, but
+still English. Chick read:
+
+“Be of good cheer; there ain't a one in this world that can top a lad
+from Frisco. And it's Pat MacPherson that says it. Yer the finest laddie
+that ever got beyond the old Witch of Endor. You and me, if we hold on,
+is just about goin' to play hell with the haythen. Hold on and fight
+like the divil! Remember that Pat is with ye!
+
+“We're both spooks.
+
+“PAT MACPHERSON”
+
+Said Watson: “Who gave you this? Did you see the man?”
+
+“It was sent up my lord. The man was a high Bar in the Senestro's
+guard.”
+
+Watson could not understand this. Was it possible that there were others
+in this mysterious region besides himself? At any rate, he wasn't wholly
+alone. He felt that he could count upon the Irishman--or was this
+fellow Scotch? Anyhow, such a man would find the quick means of wit at a
+crucial moment.
+
+Suddenly Watson noted a queer feeling of emptiness. He looked out of the
+window. The music had ceased, and the incessant hum of the throngs had
+deadened to silence. It was suspended, awesome, threatening. At the same
+time, the Jan Lucar came to attention, at the opposite door stood the
+Rhamda Geos, black clad, surrounded by a group of his fellows.
+
+“Come, my lord,” he said.
+
+The crimson guard fell in behind Watson, the black-gowned took their
+places ahead, and the Jan Lucar and the Geos walked on either side. They
+stepped out into the corridor. By the indicator of a vertical clock,
+Chick noted that it was nine. He did not know the day of the year other
+than from the Thomahlian calendar; but he knew that it was close to
+sunset. He did not ask where they were going; there was no need. The
+very solemnity of his companions told him more than their answers would
+have. In a moment they were in the streets.
+
+Watson had thought that they would be taken by aircraft, or that
+they would pass through the building. He did not know that it was a
+concession to the Bar Senestro; that the Senestro was but playing a bit
+of psychology that is often practised by lesser champions. If Watson's
+nerve was not broken it was simply because of the iron indifference of
+confident health. Chick had never been defeated. He had no fear. He was
+far more curious as to the scenes and events about him than he was of
+the outcome. He was hoping for some incident that would link itself up
+into explanation.
+
+At the door a curious car of graceful lines was waiting, an odd affair
+that might be classed as a cross between a bird and a gondola, streaming
+with colours and of magnificent workmanship and design. On the deck of
+this the three men took their places; on the one side the Rhamda Geos,
+tall, sombre, immaculate; on the other, the magnificent Jan Lucar in the
+gorgeous crimson uniform, gold-braided and studded with jewels; on his
+head he wore the shako of purple down, and by his side a peculiar black
+weapon which he wore much in the manner of a sword.
+
+In the centre, Watson--bareheaded, his torso bare and his arms naked.
+He had been given a pair of soft sandals, and a short suit, whose one
+redeeming feature in his eyes was a pocket into which he had thrust the
+automatic that he valued so much. It was more like a picture of Rome
+than anything else. Whatever the civilisation of the Thomahlians, their
+ritual in Watson's eyes smacked still of barbarism.
+
+But he was intensely interested in all about him. The avenues were
+large. On either side the guards were drawn up eight deep, holding back
+the multitude that pressed and jostled with the insistence of curiosity.
+He looked into the myriad faces; about him, splendid features, of
+intelligent man and women.
+
+Not one face suggested the hideous; the women were especially beautiful,
+and, from what he could see, finely formed and graceful. Many of them
+smiled; he could hear the curious buzz of conjecturing whispers. Some
+were indifferent, while others, from the expression of their faces, were
+openly hostile.
+
+Chick was in the middle of a procession, the Rhamdas marching before and
+the crimson guard bringing up the rear. A special guard: the inner one,
+Rhamdas, the outer one of crimson surrounding them all.
+
+The car started. There was no trace of friction; it was noiseless,
+automatic. Chick could only conjecture as to its mechanism. The black
+column of Rhamdas moved ahead rhythmically, with the swing of solemn
+grandeur. For some minutes they marched through the streets of the
+Mahovisal. There was no cheering; it was a holy, awesome occasion. Chick
+could sense the undercurrent of the staring thousands, the reverence
+and the piety. It was the Day of the Prophet. They were staring at a
+miracle.
+
+The column turned a corner. For the first time Watson was staggered by
+sheer immensity; for the first time he felt what it might be to see with
+the eyes of an insect. Had he been an ant looking up at the columns
+of Karnak, he would still have been out of proportion. It was immense,
+colossal, beyond man. It was of the omnipotent--the pillared portal of
+the Temple of the Bell.
+
+Such a building a genius might dream of, in a moment of unhampered,
+inspired imagination. It was stupendous. The pillars were hexagonal
+in shape, and in diameter each of about the size of an ordinary house.
+Dropping from an immense height, it seemed as if they had originally
+poured out in the form of molten metal from immense bell-like flares
+that fell from the vaulted architrave. Such was the design.
+
+Chick got the impression that the top of the structure, somehow, was
+not supported by the foundation, but rather the reverse--the floor was
+suspended from the ceiling. It was the work of the Titans--so high
+and stupendous that at the first instant Watson felt numb with
+insignificance. What chance had he against men of such colossal
+conception.
+
+How large the building was he could not see. The Gargantuan facade
+itself was enough to smother comprehension. It was laid out in the
+form of a triangle, one end of which was open towards the city; the
+two sections of the facade met under a huge, arched opening--the door
+itself. Watson recognised the structure as the one he had seen from
+the June Bug on the outskirts of the Mahovisal. The enormous plaza was
+packed with people, leaving only a narrow lane for the procession; and
+as far back as Chick could see crowds in the streets converged towards
+this vast space. Their numbers were incalculable.
+
+The car stopped. The guards, both crimson and blue, formed a twenty-fold
+cordon. Watson could feel the suspended breath of the waiting multitude.
+The three men stepped out--the Geos first, then the Jan Lucar, and
+Watson last. Chick caught the Lucar's eye; it was confident; the man was
+springing with vigour, jovial in spite of the moment.
+
+They passed between two of the huge pillars, and under the giant arch.
+For a few minutes they walked through what seemed, to Chick, a perfect
+maze of those titanic columns. And every foot was marked by the lines of
+crimson and blue, flanking either side.
+
+An immense sea of people rose high into the forest of pillars as far as
+his eye could reach. He had never been in such a concourse of humanity.
+
+They passed through an inner arch, a smaller and lower one, into what
+Chick guessed was the temple proper. And if Chick had thought the
+anteroom stupendous, he saw that a new word, one which went beyond all
+previous experience, was needed to describe what he now saw.
+
+It was almost too immense to be grasped in its entirety. Gone was the
+maze of columns; instead, far, far away to the right and to the left,
+stood single rows of herculean pillars. There were but seven on a side,
+separated by great distances; and between them stretched a space so
+immense, so incredibly vast, that a small city could have been housed
+within it. And over it all was not the open sky, but a ceiling of such
+terrific grandeur that Chick almost halted the procession while he
+gazed.
+
+For that ceiling was the under side of a cloud, a grey-black, forbidding
+thundercloud. And the fourteen pillars, seven on either side, were
+prodigious waterspouts, monster spirals of the hue of storm, with
+flaring sweeps at top and bottom that welded roof and floor into one
+terrific whole. Sheer from side to side stretched that portentous level
+cloud; it was a span of an epoch; and on either side it was rooted in
+those awful columns, seemingly alive, as though ready at any instant to
+suck up the earth into the infinite.
+
+By downright will-power Watson tore his attention away and directed it
+upon the other features of that unprecedented interior. It was lighted,
+apparently, by great windows behind the fourteen pillars; windows
+too far to be distinguishable. And the light revealed, directly ahead
+something that Chick at first thought to be a cascade of black water.
+It leaped out of the rear wall of the temple, and at its crest it
+was bordered with walls of solid silver, cut across and designed with
+scrolls of gold and gem work; walls that swooped down and ended with two
+huge green columns at the base of that fantastic fall.
+
+As they approached a swarm of tiny bronze objects, silver winged,
+fluttered out through the temple--tiny birds, smaller than swallows,
+beautiful and swift-winged, elusive. They were without number; in a
+moment the air of the temple was alive with flitting, darting spots of
+glinting colour.
+
+Then Chick saw that there were two people sitting high on the crest
+of that cascade. Wondering, Chick and the rest marched on through the
+silent crowd; all standing with bared heads and bated breaths. The
+worshipping Thomahlians filled every inch of that enormous place. Only
+a narrow lane permitted the procession to pass towards that puzzling,
+silent, black waterfall.
+
+They were almost at its base when Chick saw the vanguard of the Rhamdas
+unhesitatingly stride straight against the torrent, and then mount upon
+it. Up they marched; and Chick knew that the black water was black jade,
+and that the two people at its crest were seated upon a landing at the
+top of the grandest stairway he had ever seen.
+
+Up went the Rhamdas deploying to right and left against the silver
+walls. The crimson and blue uniformed guards remained behind, lining
+the lane through the throng. At the foot of the steps Chick stopped and
+looked around, and again he felt numb at the sheer vastness of it all.
+
+For he was looking back now at the portal through which the procession
+had marched; a portal now closed; and above it, covering a great expanse
+of that wall and extending up almost into the brooding cloud above, was
+spread a mighty replica of the tri-coloured Sign of the Jarados.
+
+For the first time Chick felt the full significance of symbolism.
+Whereas before it had been but an incident of adventure, now it was the
+symbol of mystic revelation. It was not only the motif for all other
+decoration upon the walls and minor elements of the temple; it was the
+emblem of the trinity, deep, holy, significant of the mystery of
+the universe and the hereafter. There was something deeper than mere
+fatalism; behind all was the fact-rooted faith of a civilisation.
+
+But at that moment, as Chick paused with one foot on the bottom step of
+the flight, something happened that sent quivers of joy and confidence
+all through him. Someone was talking--talking in English!
+
+Chick looked. The speaker was a man in the blue garb of the Senestro's
+guard. He was standing at the end of the line nearest the stair, and
+slightly in front of his fellows. Like the rest, he was holding his
+weapon, a black, needled-pointed sword, at the salute. Chick gave him
+only a glance, then had the presence of mind to look elsewhere as a man
+said, in a low, guarded voice:
+
+“Y' air right, me lad; don't look at me. I know what ye're thinkin'. But
+she ain't as bad as she looks! Keep yer heart clear; never fear. You an'
+me can lick all Thomahlia! Go straight up them stairs, an' stand that
+blackguard Senestro on his 'ead, just like y'd do in Frisco!”
+
+“Who are you?” asked Watson, intent upon the great three-leafed clover.
+He used the same low, cautious tone the other had employed. “Who are
+you, friend?”
+
+“Pat MacPherson, of course,” was the answer. “An' Oi've said a plenty.
+Now, go aboot your business.”
+
+Watson did not quibble. There was no time to learn more. He did not wish
+it to be noticed; yet he could not hide it from the Jan Lucar and the
+Rhamda Geos, who were still at his side. They had heard that tongue
+before. The looks they exchanged told, however, that they were gratified
+rather than displeased by the interruption. Certainly all feelings of
+depression left Chick, and he ascended the stairs with a glad heart and
+a resilient stride that could not but be noticed.
+
+He was ready for the Senestro.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+THE PROPHECY
+
+
+Reaching the top of the jade steps, Chick found the landing to be a
+great dais, nearly a hundred feet across. On the right and left this
+dais was hedged in by the silver walls, on each of which was hung a
+huge, golden scrollwork. These scrolls bore legends, which for the
+moment Chick ignored. At the rear of the dais was a large object like a
+bronze bell.
+
+The floor was of the usual mosaic, except in the centre, where there
+was a plain, circular design. Chick took careful note of this, a circle
+about twenty feet across, as white and unbroken as a bed of frozen snow.
+Whether it was stone or not he could not determine. All around its edge
+was a gap that separated it from the dais, a gap several inches across.
+Chick turned to Geos:
+
+“The Spot of Life?”
+
+“Even so. It is the strangest thing in all the Thomahlia, my lord. Can
+you feel it?”
+
+For Watson had reached out with his toe and touched the white surface.
+He drew it back suddenly.
+
+“It has a feeling,” he replied, “that I cannot describe. It is cold, and
+yet it is not. Perhaps it is my own magnetism.”
+
+“Ah! It is well, my lord!”
+
+What the Rhamda meant by that Chick could not tell. He was interested
+in the odd white substance. It was as smooth as glass, although at
+intervals there were faint, almost imperceptible, dark lines, like the
+finest scratches in old ivory. Yet the whiteness was not dazzling. Again
+Watson touched it with his foot, and noted the inexplicable feeling of
+exhilaration. In the moment of absorption he quite forgot the concourse
+about him. He knew that he was now standing on the crux of the Blind
+Spot.
+
+But in a minute he turned. The dais was a sort of nave, with one end
+open to the stairway. Seated on his left was the frail Aradna, occupying
+a small throne-like chair of some translucent green material. On the
+right sat the Bar Senestro, in a chair differing only in that its colour
+was a bright blue. In the centre of the dais stood a third chair--a
+crimson one--empty.
+
+The Senestro stood up. He was royally clad, his breast gleaming with
+jewels. He was certainly handsome; he had the carriage of confident
+royalty. There was no fear in this man, no uncertainty, no weakness.
+If confidence were a thing of strength, the Senestro was already the
+victor. In his heart Chick secretly admired him.
+
+But just then the Aradna stood up, She made an indication to Watson. He
+stepped over to the queen. She sat down again.
+
+“I want to give you my benediction, stranger lord. Are you sure of
+yourself? Can you overcome the Senestro?”
+
+“I am certain,” spoke Watson. “It is for the queen, O Aradna. I know
+nothing of the prophecy; but I will fight for you!”
+
+She blushed and cast a furtive look in the direction of the Senestro.
+
+“It is well,” she spoke. “The outcome will have a double
+interpretation--the spiritual one of the prophecy, and the earthly,
+material one that concerns myself. If you conquer, my lord, I am freed.
+I would not marry the Senestro; I love him not. I would abide by the
+prophet, and await the chosen.” She hesitated. “What do you know of the
+chosen, my lord?”
+
+“Nothing, O Aradna.”
+
+“Has not the Rhamda Geos told you?”
+
+“Partly, but not fully. There is something that he is withholding.”
+
+“Very likely. And now--will you kneel, my lord?”
+
+Watson knelt. The queen held out her hand. Behind him Chick could hear
+a deep murmur from the assembled multitudes. Just what was the
+significance of that sound he did not know; nor did he care. It was
+enough for him that he was to fight for this delicately beautiful
+maiden. He would let the prophecy take care of itself.
+
+Besides these three on the dais there were only the Rhamda Geos and
+the Jan Lucar. These two remained on the edge nearest the body of the
+temple, the edge at the crest of the stair. The empty chair remained so.
+
+Suddenly Chick remembered the warning of Dr. Holcomb: “Read the words of
+the Prophet.” And he took advantage of the breathing-spell to peruse the
+legends on the great golden scrolls:
+
+THE PROPHECY OF THE JARADOS
+
+Behold! When the day is at hand, prepare ye!
+
+For, when that day cometh, ye shall have signs and portents from the
+world beyond. Wisdom cometh out of life, and life walketh out of wisdom.
+Yea, in the manner of life and of spirit ye shall have them, and of
+substance even like unto you yourselves.
+
+And it shall come to pass in the last days, that we shall be on guard.
+By these signs ye shall know them; even by the truths I have taught
+thee. The way of life is an open door; wisdom and virtue are its keys.
+And when the intelligence shall be lifted to the plane above--then shalt
+thou know!
+
+Mark ye well the Spot of Life! He that openeth it is the precursor of
+judgment. Mark him well!
+
+And thus shall the last days come to pass. See that ye are worthy, O
+wise ones! For behold in those last days there shall come among ye--
+
+The chosen of a line of kings. First there shall be one, and then there
+shall be two; and the two shall stay but the one shall return.
+
+The false ones. Them ye shall slay!
+
+The four footed: The call to humility, sacrifice and devotion, whom ye
+shall hold in reverence even as you hold me, the Jarados.
+
+And on the last day of all--I, the Jarados!
+
+Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I have given ye,
+and the day be postponed--beware ye of sacrilege!
+
+And if the false ones cometh not, ye shall know that I have held them.
+Know ye the day!
+
+Sixteen days from the day of the prophet, shall come the day of the
+judgment; and the way shall be opened, on the last day, the sixteenth
+day of the Jarados.
+
+Hearken to the words of the Jarados, the prophet and mouthpiece of
+the infinite intelligence, ruler of justice, peace, and love! So be it
+forever!
+
+Chick read it a second time. Like all prophecies, it was somewhat
+Delphic; but he could get the general drift. In that golden script he
+was looking into the heart of all Thomahlia--into its greatness, its
+culture, its civilisation itself. It was the soul of the Blind Spot, the
+reason and the wherefore of all about him.
+
+He heard someone step up behind him, and he turned. It was the Senestro,
+going over the words of the prophecy.
+
+“Can you read it, Sir Phantom?” asked the handsome Bar. His black eyes
+were twinkling with delight. “Have you read it all?”
+
+He put a hand on Chick's shoulder. It was a careless act, almost
+friendly. Either he had the heart of a devil or the chivalry of a
+paladin. He pointed to a line:
+
+“'The false ones. Them ye shall slay.'”
+
+“And if I were the false one, you would slay me?” asked Watson.
+
+“Aye, truly!” answered the splendid prince. “You are well made and
+good to look upon. I shall hold you in my arms; I shall hear your bones
+crack; it shall be sweeter music than that of the temple pheasants,
+who never sing but for the Jarados. I shall slay you upon the Spot, Sir
+Phantom!”
+
+Watson turned on his heel. The ethics of the Senestro were not of his
+own code. He was not afraid; he stood beside the Jan Lucar and gazed out
+into the body of the temple. As far as he could see, under and past the
+fourteen great pillars and right up to the far wall, the floor was a
+vast carpet of humanity.
+
+It was become dark. Presently a new kind of light began to glow far
+overhead, gradually increasing in strength until the whole place was
+suffused with a sun-like illumination. The Rhamda Geos began to speak.
+
+“In the last day, in the Day of Life. We have the substance of
+ourselves, and the words of the prophet. The Jarados has written his
+prophecy in letters of gold, for all to see. 'The false ones. Them ye
+shall slay.' It is the will of the Rhamdas that the great Bar Senestro
+shall try the proof of the occult. On this, the first of the Sixteen
+Days, the test shall be--on the Spot of Life!”
+
+He turned away. The Bar Senestro stripped off his jewels, his
+semi-armour, and stood clad in the manner of Watson. They advanced and
+met in the centre of the dais, two athletes, lithe, strong, handsome,
+their muscles aquiver with vitality and their skins silken with health.
+Champions of two worlds, to wrestle for truth!
+
+A low murmur arose, increasing until it filled the whole coliseum. The
+silver-bronze pheasants flitted above the heads of all, flashing like
+fragments of the spirit of light. And all of a sudden--
+
+One of them fluttered down and lit on Watson's shoulder.
+
+The murmur of the throng dropped to a dead silence. Next moment
+a stranger thing happened. The little creature broke forth in
+full-throated song.
+
+Watson instantly remembered the words of the Bar Senestro: “They sing
+but for the Jarados.” He quietly reached up and caught the songster
+in his hand, and he held it up to the astonished crowd. Still the song
+continued. Chick held him an instant longer, and then gave him a toss
+high into the air. He shot across the temple, a streak of melody,
+silver, dulcet, to the far corner of the giant building.
+
+But the thing did not jar the Senestro.
+
+“Well done, Sir Phantom! Anyhow, 'tis your last play! I would not have
+it otherwise. I hope you can die as prettily! Are you ready?”
+
+“Ready? What for?” retorted Watson. “Why, should I trouble myself with
+preparations?”
+
+But the Rhamda Geos had now come to his side.
+
+“Do your best, my lord. I regret only that it must be to the death.
+It is the first death contest in the Thomahlia for a thousand circles
+(years). But the Senestro has challenged the prophecy. Prove that you
+are not a false one! My heart is with you.”
+
+It was a good word at a needed moment. Watson stepped over onto the
+circular Spot of Life.
+
+They were both barefooted. Evidently the Thomahlians fought in the old,
+classic manner. The stone under Watson's feet was cool and invigorating.
+He could sense anew that quiver of magnetism and strength. It sent a
+thrill through his whole body, like the subtle quickening of life. He
+felt vital, joyous, confident.
+
+The Senestro was smiling, his eyes flashing with anticipation. His
+muscled body was a network of soft movement. His step was catlike.
+
+“What will it be?” inquired Watson. “Name your choice of destruction.”
+
+But the Bar shook his head.
+
+“Not so, Sir Phantom. You shall choose the manner of your death, not I.
+Particular I am not, nor selfish.”
+
+“Make it wrestling, then,” in his most off-hand manner. He was a good
+wrestler, and scientific.
+
+“Good. Are you ready?”
+
+“Quite.”
+
+“Very well, Sir Phantom. I shall walk to the edge of the Spot and turn
+around. I would take no unfair advantage. Now!”
+
+Chick turned at the same moment and strode to his edge. He turned,
+and it happened; just what, Chick never knew. He remembered seeing his
+opponent turn slowly about, and in the next split second he was spinning
+in the clutch of a tiger. Even before they struck the stone, Chick could
+feel the Senestro reaching for a death-hold.
+
+And in that one second Watson knew that he was in the grip of his
+master.
+
+His mind functioned like lightning. His legs and arms flashed for the
+counterhold that would save him. They struck the Spot and rolled over
+and over. Chick caught his hold, but the Senestro broke it almost
+instantly. Yet it had saved him; for a minute they spun around like a
+pair of whirligigs. Watson kept on the defensive. He had not the speed
+and skill of the other. It was no mere test to touch his shoulders;
+it was a fight to the death; he was at a disadvantage. He worked
+desperately.
+
+When a man fights for his life he becomes superhuman. Watson was put to
+something more than his skill; the sheer spirit of the Bar broke hold
+after hold; he was like lightning, panther-like, subtle, vicious. Time
+after time he spun Chick out of his defense and bore him down into
+a hold of death. And each time Chick somehow wriggled out, and saved
+himself by a new hold. The struggle became a blur--muscle, legs, the
+lust for killing--and hatred. Twice Watson essayed the offensive; first
+he got a hammer lock, and then a half-Nelson. The Bar broke both holds
+immediately.
+
+Whatever Chick knew of wrestling, the Senestro knew just a bit more. It
+was a whirling mass of legs and bodies in continuous convulsion,
+silent except for the terrible panting of the men, and the low, stifled
+exclamations of the onlookers.
+
+And then--
+
+Watson grew weak. He tried once more. They spun to their feet. But
+before he could act the Senestro had caught him in the same flying rush
+as in the beginning, and had whirled him off his feet. And when he came
+down the Bar had an unbreakable hold.
+
+Chick struggled in vain. The Bar tightened his grip. A spasm of pain
+shot through Chick's torso; he could feel his bones giving way. His
+strength was gone; he could see death. Another moment would have been
+the end.
+
+But something happened. The Senestro miraculously let go his hold. Chick
+felt something soft brush against his cheek. He heard a queer snapping,
+and shouts of wonder, and a dreadful choking sound from the Bar. He
+raised dizzily on one arm. His eyes cleared a bit.
+
+The great Bar was on his back; and at his throat was a snarling
+thing--the creature that Chick had seen in the clover leaf of the
+Jarados.
+
+It was a living dog.
+
+
+
+XLII.  PAT MACPHERSON'S STORY
+
+To Watson it was all a blur. He was too weak and too broken to remember
+distinctly. He was conscious only of an uproar, of a torrent of
+multitudinous sound. And then--the deep, enveloping tone of a bell.
+
+Some time, somewhere, Chick had heard that bell before. In his present
+condition his memory refused to serve him. He was covered with blood; he
+tried to rise, to crawl to this snarling animal that was throttling the
+Senestro. But something seemed to snap within him, and all went black.
+
+When he opened his eyes again all had changed. He was lying on a couch
+with a number of people about. It was a minute before he recognized the
+Jan Lucar, then the Geos, and lastly the nurse whom he had first seen
+when he awoke in the Blind Spot. Evidently he was in the hands of his
+friends, although there was a new one, a red-headed man, clad in the
+blue uniform of a high Bar.
+
+He sat up. The nurse held a goblet of the green liquid to his lips. The
+Bar in blue turned.
+
+“Aye,” he said. “Give him some of the liquor; it will do him good. It
+will put the old energy back in his bones.”
+
+The voice rang oddly familiar in Watson's ears. The words were
+Thomahlian; not until Chick had drained his glass did he comprehend
+their significance.
+
+“Who are you?” he asked.
+
+The Bar with the red hair grinned.
+
+“Whist, me lad,” using Chick's own tongue. “Get rid of these
+Thomahlians. 'Tis a square game we're playin', but we're takin' no
+chances. Get 'em out of the way so we kin talk.”
+
+Watson turned to the others. He made the request in his adopted tongue.
+They bowed, reverently, and withdrew.
+
+“Who are you?” Chick asked again.
+
+“Oi'm Pat MacPherson.”
+
+“How did you get here?”
+
+The other sat on the edge of the bed. “Faith, how kin Oi tell ye? 'Twas
+a drink, sor; a new kind av a high-ball, th' trickery av a friend an'
+th' ould Witch av Endor put togither.”
+
+Obviously Watson did not understand. The stranger continued: “Faith,
+sor, an' no more do Oi. There's no one as does, 'cept th' ould doc
+hisself.”
+
+“The old doc! You mean Dr. Holcomb?”
+
+Watson sat up in his bed. “Where is he?”
+
+“In a safe place, me lad. Dinna fear for th' doctor. 'Twas him as saved
+ye--him an' your humble sarvant, Pat MacPherson, bedad.”
+
+“He--and you--saved me?”
+
+“Aye--there on th' Spot of Life. A bit of a thrick as th' ould doc dug
+oot o' his wisdom. Sure, she dinna work jist loike he said it, but 'twas
+a plenty t' oopset th' pretty Senestro!”
+
+Watson asked, “What became of the Senestro?”
+
+“Sure, they pulled him oot. Th' wee doggie jist aboot had him done for.
+Bedad, she's a good pup!”
+
+“What kind of a dog?”
+
+“A foine wan, sor, wit a bit stub av a tail. An' she's that intelligent,
+she kin jist about talk Frinch. Th' Thomahlians all called her th'
+Four-footed, an' if they kape on, they'll jist aboot make her th' Pope.”
+
+Watson was still thick headed. “I don't understand!”
+
+“Nor I laddie. But th' ould doc does. He's got a foine head for figgers;
+and' he's that scientific, he kin make iron oot o' rainbows.”
+
+“Iron out of--what?”
+
+“Rainbows, sor. Faith, 'tis meself thot's seen it. And he's been
+watchin' over ye ever since ye came. 'Twas hisself, lad, that put it
+into your head t' call him th' Jarados.”
+
+“You don't mean to say that the professor put those impulses into my
+head!”
+
+“Aye, laddie; you said it. He kin build up a man's thoughts just
+like you or me kin pile oop lumber. 'Tis that deep he is wit' th'
+calculations!”
+
+Watson tried to think. There was just one superlative question now. He
+put it.
+
+“I dinna know if he's th' Jarados,” was the reply. “But if so be not,
+then he's his twin brother, sure enough.”
+
+“Is he a prisoner?”
+
+“I wouldna say that, though there's them as think so. But if it be
+anybody as is holdin' him, 'tis the Senestro an' his gang o' guards.”
+
+Watson looked at the other's uniform, at the purple shako on his
+head, the jewelled weapon at his side, and the Jaradic leaf on his
+shoulder--insignia of a Bar of the highest rank.
+
+“How does it come that you're a Bar, and a high one at that?”
+
+The other grinned again. He took off his shako and ran his hand through
+his mop of red hair.
+
+“'Tis aither th' luck of th' Irish, me lad, or of th' Scotch. Oi don't
+ken which--Oi'm haff each--but mostly 'tis th' virtoo av me bonny red
+hair.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because, leastways, in th' Thomahlia, there's always a dhrop av royalty
+in th' red-headed. Me bonnie top-knot has made me a fortune. Ye see,
+'tis th' mark av th' royal Bars themselves; no ithers have it.”
+
+Watson said: “If you have come from Dr. Holcomb, then you must have a
+message from him to me.”
+
+“Ye've said it; you an' me, an' a few Rhamdas, an' mebbe th' wee queen
+is goin' t' take a flight in th' June Bug. We're goin' afther th' ould
+doc; an' ye kin bet there'll be as pretty a scrap as ever ye looked
+on. An' afther thot's all over, we're goin' t' take anither kind of a
+flight--into good old Frisco.”
+
+Chick instantly asked Pat if he knew where San Francisco might be.
+
+“Faith, 'tis only th' ould doc knows, laddie. But when we git there,
+'tis Pat MacPherson that's a goin' for Toddy Maloney.”
+
+“I don't know that name.”
+
+“Bedad, I do. Him it was thot give me th' dhrink.”
+
+“What drink?”
+
+Th' dhrink thot done it. Twas a new kind av cocktail. Ye see, I'd jist
+got back from Melbourne, an' I was takin' in th' lights that noight,
+aisy like, whin I come t' Toddy's place. I orders a dhrink av whuskey.
+
+“'Whist, Pat,' says he, 'ye don't want whuskey; 'twill make ye dhrunk.
+Why don't ye take somethin' green, like th' Irish?'
+
+“'Green,” says I. ''Tis a foine colour. I dinna fear anything thot comes
+fra' a bottle. Pass'er oot!'
+
+“An' thot he did. 'Twas 'creme de menthay' on th' bottle. 'An',' says
+he, ''Twon't make ye dhrunk.' But he was a liar, beggin' yer pardin.
+
+“For by an' by Oi see his head a growin' larger an' larger, until Oi
+couldn't see annything but a few loights on th' cailing, an' a few
+people on th' edges, loike. An' afther thot Oi wint oot, an' walked
+till Oi come to a hill. An' there was a moon, an' a ould hoose standin'
+still, which th' moon was not. So Oi stood still to watch it, but bein'
+tired an' weary an' not havin' got rid o' me sea-legs, Oi sat me doon
+on th' steps av th' hoose for a bit av a rest, an' t' watch th' moon,
+thinkin' mebbe she'd stand still by an' by.
+
+“Well, sor, Oi hadn't been there more'n three 'r four minits, whin th'
+door opened, an' oot steps a little ould lady, aboot th' littlest an'
+ouldest Oi iver see in 'Frisco.
+
+“'Good avenin', Mother Machree,' says Oi, touchin' me hat.
+
+“'Mother Machree!' says she, an' gives me a sharp look. Also she sniffs.
+'Ye poor man,' says she. 'Ye'll catch yer death o' cold, out here. Ye
+better coom in an' lie on me sofy.'
+
+“Now, sor, how was Oi to ken, bein' a sailor an' ingorant? She was only
+a ould lady, an' withered. How was Oi to ken thot she was th' ould Witch
+o' Endor?”
+
+Watson's memory was at work on what he knew of the house at Chatterton
+Place, especially regarding its occupants at the beginning of the Blind
+Spot mystery. The Bar's old remark caught his attention.
+
+“The Witch of Endor?”
+
+“Aye; thot she were. Whin Oi woke up, there was nary a hoose at all, nor
+th' ould lady, nor Toddy Maloney's, nor 'Frisco. 'Twas a strange place I
+was, sor; a church loike St. Peter's, only bigger, th' same bein' harrd
+to belaive. An' th' columns looked loike waterspoots, an' th' sky above
+was full av clouds, the same bein' jest aboot ready to break into hell
+an' tempest. But ye've been there yerself, sor.
+
+“Well, here was a man beside me, dressed in a kilt. An' he spakes a
+strange language, although Oi could undershtand; and' he says, says he:
+
+“'My lord,' was what he says.
+
+“'My lord!' says Oi. 'Oi dinna ken what ye mane at all, at all.'
+
+“'Are ye not a Bar?' says he.
+
+“'Thot Oi am not!' says Oi, spakin' good English, so's to be sure he'd
+understand. 'Oi'm Pat MacPherson.'
+
+“But he couldn' ken. Thin we left th' temple an' wint out into the
+street. An' a great crowd of people came aroun' an' began shoutin'. By
+an' by we wint into anither buildin'.
+
+“'For why sh'd iverybody look at me whin we crossed th' street jest
+noo?' I asked.
+
+“'Tis y'r clothes,' says he.
+
+“Now, Oi don't enjoy pooblicity, sor; wherefore th' wily Scotch in me
+told me what to do, an' th' Irish part of me did it. I stood him on his
+head, an' took his clothes off an' put them on meself. An' then no one
+noticed me. Thot is, until Oi took me hat off.”
+
+“You mean, that shako?”
+
+“Yis; th' blaemd heavy thing--'tis made o' blue feathers. Well, whin it
+got so hot it made me scalp sweat, Oi took it off; an' then they called
+me--'My lord' an' 'your worship,' jest loike Oi were a king.
+
+“'Pray God,' says Oi, 'that me head dinna get bald.'
+
+“Well, sor, Oi had a toime that was fit for th' Irish. Oi did iverything
+'cept git drunk; there was nothin' to git drunk with. But afther a while
+I ran across anither, wit' jest as red hair as I had. He was a foine
+man, av coorse, an' all surrounded by blue guards. He took me into a
+room himself an' begin askin' questions.
+
+“An' I lied, sor. Av coorse, 'twas lucky thot Oi had me Scotch larnin'
+an' caution to guide me; but whin Oi spoke, Oi wisely let th' Irishman
+do all th' talkin'. An' th' great Bar liked me.
+
+“'Verily,' says he, most solemnly, 'thou art of th' royal Bars!' An' he
+made me a high officer, he did.”
+
+“Was he the Bar Senestro?” asked Watson.
+
+“Nay; 'twas a far better man--Senestro's brother, that died not long
+after. When Oi saw th' Senestro, Oi had sinse enough to kape me mouth
+shut. An' now Oi'm a high Bar--next to th' Senestro hisself! What's
+more, sor, there's no one alive kens th' truth but yerself an' th' ould
+doctor.”
+
+It was a queer story, but in the light of all that had gone before,
+wonderfully convincing. Watson began to see light breaking through the
+darkness. “Now there are two,” the old lady at 288 Chatterton Place
+had said to Jerome, when the detective came looking for the vanished
+professor. Had she referred to Holcomb and MacPherson? Two had gone
+through the Blind Spot, and two had come out--the Rhamda Avec and the
+Nervina. “Now there are two,” she had said.
+
+“Tell me a little more about Holcomb, Pat!”
+
+“'Tis a short story. Oi can't tell ye much, owin' to orders from the
+old gent hisself. He came shortly after th' death of the first Bar,
+Senestro's brother. Seems there was some rumpus aboot th' old Rhamda
+Avec, which same Oi always kept away from--him as was goin' to prove th'
+spirits! Annyhow, we was guardin' th' temple awaitin' th' spook as was
+promised. An' thot's how we got th' ould doc.
+
+“But th' Rhamdas niver saw him. Th' Senestro double-crossed 'em, an'
+slipped th' doctor oop to th' Palace av Light.”
+
+“The Palace of--what?”
+
+“The Palace av light, sor. Tis th' home av th' Jarados. 'twas held
+always holy by th' Thomahlians; no man dared go within miles av it;
+since the Jarados was here, t'ousands of years ago, no one at all has
+been inside av it.
+
+“But the Senestro knew that th' doctor was th' real Jarados, at least he
+t'ought so; an' he wasna afraid o' him. He's na coward, th' Senestro.
+He put th' doctor in th' Jarados' home! Only th' Prophecy worries him at
+all.”
+
+At last Watson was touching firm ground. Things were beginning to link
+up--the Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados.
+
+“Well, sor, we Bars have kept th' ould doctor prisoner there iver since
+he come, wit' none save me to give him a wee bit word av comfort. But it
+dinna hurt th' old gent. Whin he finds all them balls an' rainbows an'
+eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything else; he's contint wit 'his
+discovery. 'Tis th' wise head th' doctor has; an' Oi make no doobt he's
+th' real Jarados.”
+
+The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of Chick's
+coming from the beginning. He immediately called in MacPherson and gave
+him some orders, or rather directions, which the Irishman could not
+understand. He knew only that he was to go to the Temple of the Leaf and
+there touch certain objects in a certain way; also, he was to arrange to
+get near Chick, and give him a word of cheer.
+
+“But it dinna work as he said it, sor; he had expected to catch th'
+Senestro. Instead, 'twas th' dog got th' Bar. A foine pup, sor; she
+saved yer loife.”
+
+“Where's the dog now?”
+
+“She's on th' Spot av Life, sor. She willna leave it. Tis a strange
+thing to see how she clings to it. Th' Rhamdas only come near enough to
+feed her.”
+
+Thus Chick learned that, as soon as he got well, he and MacPherson were
+to seek the doctor, and help him to get away with the secrets he had
+found, the truths behind the mystery of the Spot.
+
+“An' 'tis a glorious fight there'll be, lad. Th' Senestro's a game wan;
+he'll not give up, an' he'll not let go th' doctor till he has to.”
+
+This was not unwelcome news to Chick. A battle was to his liking.
+It reminded him of the automatic pistol which he still had in his
+pocket--the gun he had not thought to use in his desperate struggle with
+the Bar Senestro.
+
+“Pat,” said he, with a sudden inspriation, “when you came through, did
+you have a firearm?”
+
+MacPherson reached into his pocket and silently produced a thirty-two
+calibre pistol, of another make than Chick's but using the same
+ammunition. From another pocket he drew out a package carefully bound
+with thread. He unrolled the contents. It was an old clay pipe!
+
+“Oi came through,” he stated plaintively, “wit' two guns; an' nary a bit
+av powder for ayther!”
+
+Chick smiled. He searched his own pockets. First he handed over his
+extra magazine full of cartridges, and then a full package of smoking
+tobacco.
+
+“Wirra, wirra!” shouted MacPherson. “Faith, an' there's powder for
+both!” His hands shook as he hurried to cram the old pipe full of
+tobacco. The cartridges could wait. He struck a light and gave a deep
+sigh of content as he began to puff.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+THE HOME OF THE JARADOS
+
+
+Chick had been grievously hurt in the contest with the Senestro, but
+thanks to the Rhamdas he came round rapidly. It was a matter of less
+than a week.
+
+Things were coming to a climax; Chick needed no lynx's eye to see
+that the die had been cast between the Bars and the Rhamdas. Soon the
+Senestro must make a bold move, or else release the professor.
+
+Chick had not long to wait. It came one evening. Once again he found
+himself in the June Bug, accompanied by the Geos, the Jan Lucar,
+and--the little Aradna herself. Their departure was swift and secret.
+
+This time Watson was not worried over height, or any other sensation of
+flight. The doctor's safety alone was of moment. He said to the Rhamda:
+
+“Are we alone? Where is the Bar MacPherson?”
+
+“He is somewhere near; we are not alone, my lord. Several other machines
+are flying nearby also; they carry many of the Rhamdas and the crimson
+guard of the queen. The MacPherson will arrive first. We are going
+straight to the Palace of Light, my lord.”
+
+“Are we to storm the place?” thinking of the fight MacPherson had
+predicted.
+
+“Yes, my lord. Many shall die; but it cannot be helped. We must free the
+Jarados, although we commit sacrilege.”
+
+“But--the Senestro?”
+
+“That depends, my lord. We know not just what may be done.” He gave no
+explanation.
+
+They had climbed to a tremendous height. The indicator showed that they
+were bearing east. The darkness was modified only by the faint glow from
+that star-dusted sky. Looking down, Chick could see nothing whatever.
+His companions kept silence; only the Aradna, sitting forward by the
+side of Jan Lucar showed any perturbation. They climbed higher and
+higher still, until it seemed that they must leave the Thomahlia
+altogether. Always the course was eastward. At last the Jan said to the
+Geos:
+
+“We are now over the Region of Carbon, sir. Shall I risk the light? His
+lordship might like to see.”
+
+“Follow your own judgment.”
+
+“Oh,” exclaimed the Aradna; “do it by all means! There is nothing so
+wonderful as that!”
+
+The Jan touched a small lever. Instantly a shaft of light cut down
+through the blackness. Far, far below it ended in a patch on the ground.
+Watson eagerly followed its movements as it searched from side to side,
+seeking he knew not what. And then--
+
+There was a flash of inverted lightning, a flame of white fire, a
+blinding, stabbing scintillation of a million coruscations. Watson
+clapped a hand to his eyes, to cut off the sight. It was stunning.
+
+“What is it?” he cried.
+
+“Carbon,” answered the Geos, calmly.
+
+“Carbon! You mean--diamond?”
+
+“Yes, my lord. So it interests you? I did not know. Later you shall see
+it under more favourable conditions.” Then, to the Jan: “Enough.”
+
+Once again they were in darkness. For some minutes silence was again the
+rule. Watson watched the red dot moving across the indicator, noting its
+approach to a three cornered figure on one edge. Suddenly there appeared
+another dot; then another, and another. Some came from below, others
+from above; presently there were a score moving in close formation.
+
+“They are all here,” said the Jan to the Geos.
+
+The other nodded, and explained to Chick: “It's the Rhamdas and the
+Crimson guards. The MacPherson is just ahead. We shall arrive in three
+minutes.”
+
+And after a pause he stated that the ensuing combat would mark the
+first spilling of blood between the Bars and the Rhamdas. At a pinch the
+Senestro might even kill the Jarados, to gain his ends. “His wish is his
+only law, my lord.”
+
+The red dots began to descend toward the three-cornered figure. One
+minute passed, and another; then one more, and the June Bug landed.
+
+With scarcely a sound the Lucar brought the craft to a full stop. In a
+moment he was assisting the Aradna to alight. As for the Geos, he took
+from the machine two objects, which he held out to the Aradna and to
+Chick.
+
+“Put these on. The rest of us fight as we are.”
+
+They were cloaks, made of a soft, light, malleable glass, or something
+like it. Watson asked what they were for.
+
+“For a purpose known only to the Jarados, my lord. There are only two of
+these robes. With them he left directions which indicated plainly they
+are for your lordship and the Aradna.”
+
+Wondering, Chick helped the Aradna don her garment and then slipped
+into his own. Nevertheless, he pinned more faith in the automatic in his
+pocket. He did not make use of the hood which was intended to cover his
+head.
+
+“Pardon me,” spoke the queen. She reached over and extended the hood
+till it protected his skull. “Please wear it that way, for my sake.
+Nothing must happen to you now!”
+
+Chick obeyed with only an inward demur. What puzzled him most was the
+isolation. Seemingly they were quite alone; there was nothing, no one,
+to oppose them.
+
+But he had merely taken something for granted. He, being from the earth,
+had assumed that strife meant noise. It was only when the Aradna caught
+him by the arm, and whispered for him to listen, that he understood.
+
+It was like a breeze, that sound. To be more precise, it was like the
+heavy passage of breath, almost uninterrupted, coming from all about
+them. And presently Chick caught a queer odour.
+
+“What is it?” he breathed in the Aradna's ear.
+
+“It is death,” she answered. “Cannot you hear them--the deherers?”
+
+She did not explain; but Watson knew that he was in the midst of
+a battle which was fought with noiseless and terribly efficient
+weapons--so efficient that there were no wounded to give voice to pain.
+Before he could ask a question a familiar voice sounded out of the
+darkness at his side.
+
+“Where is the Geos?”
+
+“Here, Bar MacPherson,” answered the Rhamda.
+
+“Good! It is well you came, sir. We were discovered a few minutes ago;
+already we have lost many men. Just give us the lights, so that we
+can get at them! It is a waste of men, with the advantage all on their
+side.”
+
+Then, lapsing into English for Chick's benefit: “'Tis welcome ye are!
+Ivery mon helps, how.”
+
+“What are these sounds? You say they are fighting?”
+
+“'Tis the deherers ye hear, lad. They fight with silent guns. Don't let
+'em hit ye, or ye'll be a pink pool in the twinklin' of yer eyelid. 'Tis
+no joke.
+
+“Are they more powerful than firearms?”
+
+“I dinna say, lad. But they're th' devil's own weapon for fightin'.”
+
+Chick did not answer--he had heard a low command from the Geos. Next
+instant the space before them was illuminated by clear white light, in
+the form of a circle--bright as day. In the centre shimmered an object
+like a mist of blue flame, a nimbus of dazzling, actinic lightning.
+There was no sign of man or life, no suggestion of sound--nothing but
+the nimbus, and the brilliant space about it. The whole phenomenon
+measured perhaps three hundred feet across.
+
+They were in darkness. Chick took a step forward, but he was held back
+by MacPherson.
+
+“Nay, lad; would ye be dyin' so soon? 'Tis fearful quick. See--”
+
+He did not finish. A red line of soldiers had rushed straight out of the
+blackness into the circle of light. It seemed that they were charging
+the nimbus. They were stooping now, discharging their queer weapons;
+about three hundred of them--an inspiring sight. They charged in
+determined silence.
+
+Then--Watson blinked. The line disappeared; the thing was like a
+miracle. It took time for Chick to realise that he was looking upon
+the “pink death” MacPherson had warned him against--the work of the
+deherers, whatever the word meant. For where had been a column of
+gallant guards there was now only a broad stream of pink liquid
+trickling over the ground. It was annihilation itself--too quick to
+be horrible--inexorable and instantaneous. Chick involuntarily placed
+himself in front of the Aradna.
+
+“The blue thing in the middle,” observed the Irishman, coolly, “is th'
+Palace av Light; 'tis held by th' Senestro jest now. An' all we got to
+do is get th' ould doc out.”
+
+“But I see no building!”
+
+“'Tis there jest the same. Ye'll see it whin th' doctor gits time off
+his rainbows. 'Tis absent-minded he gets when he's on a problem, which
+same is mostly always, sor. We stay roight here till he gets ready to
+drop on th' Senestro.”
+
+Watson waited. He knew enough now to cling to the shadow, there with
+MacPherson, the Geos, and the Aradna. In the centre of the great
+light-circle the nimbus of blue stood out like a vibrating haze, while
+all about, in the darkness, could be heard the weird sound made by the
+passage of life.
+
+“When will the Jarados act?” inquired the Geos of the Irishman. But he
+got no reply. MacPherson spoke to Watson: “Get yer gun ready, lad; get
+yer gun ready! Look--'tis th' ould boy himself, now! I wonder what the
+Senestro thinks of that?”
+
+For the nimbus had suddenly dissolved, and in its place there appeared
+one of the quaintest, yet most beautiful buildings that Watson had ever
+seen. It was a three-cornered structure, low-set, and of unspeakably
+dazzling magnificence; a building carved and chiselled from solid
+carbon. Chick momentarily forgot the doctor.
+
+In front of it stood a line of Blue Guards, headed by the Senestro.
+Their confusion showed that something altogether unexpected had
+happened. They were ducking here and there, seemingly bewildered by the
+sudden vanishing of that protecting blue dazzle. The Senestro was trying
+to restore order; and in a moment he succeeded. He led the way toward a
+low, triangular platform, at the entrance--a single white door--to the
+palace.
+
+Pat MacPherson's automatic flashed and barked. Next instant Watson
+was in action. The Bar next to the Senestro staggered, then collapsed
+against his chieftain. Another rolled against his feet, causing him
+to stumble; an act that probably saved his life, for the platform in a
+second was covered with writhing, bleeding, dying Bars.
+
+The Senestro managed to reach the doorway. MacPherson cursed.
+
+“Come on!” he yelled to Watson. “Well git him alive!” Watson remembered
+little of that rush. There stood the great Bar at the doorway,
+surrounded by his dying and panic-stricken men. The cloak given Chick by
+the Geos impeded his progress; with a quick movement he threw it off and
+ran unprotected alongside the Irishman. The Blue guards saw them coming;
+they levelled their weapons. But before they could discharge them they
+met the same fate as had the Reds. A tremor in the air, and they were
+gone, leaving only a pink pool on the ground.
+
+Senestro alone remained untouched. He was about to open the white door;
+for a second he posed, defiant and handsome. Then the great Bar ducked
+swiftly and almost with the same motion dodged into the building. Chick
+and Pat were right after him.
+
+Inside was darkness. Chick ran head on against the side wall; turning,
+he bumped into another. The sudden transition from brilliance
+to blackness was overwhelming. He stopped and felt about
+carefully--momentarily blind. What if the Senestro found him now?
+
+He called MacPherson's name. There was no reply. He tried to feel his
+way along, finding the wall irregular, jagged, sharp cornered. But the
+way must lead somewhere. He reached a turn in the passage; it was
+still too dark for him to see anything. He proceeded more cautiously,
+wondering at those craggy walls. And then--
+
+Chick slapped his hands to his eyes. It was as if he had been shot into
+the core of the sun--the obsidian darkness flashed into light--a light
+beyond all enduring. Chick staggered, and cried in pain. And yet, reason
+told him just what it was, just what had happened. It was the carbon; he
+was in the heart of the diamond; the Senestro had led him on and on, and
+then--had flashed some intense light upon the vast jewel. Watson knew
+the terrible helplessness of the blind. His end had come!
+
+And so it seemed. Next instant someone came up to him--someone he could
+hear if he could not see. It was the Senestro.
+
+“Hail, Sir Phantom! Pardon my abrupt manner of welcome. I suppose you
+have come for the Jarados?” And he laughed, a laugh full of mockery and
+triumph. “Perhaps you think I intend to kill you?”
+
+Watson said no word. He had been outwitted. He awaited the end. But the
+Senestro saw fit to say, with an irony that told how sure he was:
+
+“However, I am opposed to killing in cold blood. Open your eyes, Sir
+Phantom! I will give you time--a fair chance. What do you say--shall we
+match weapon against weapon?”
+
+Watson slowly opened his eyes. The blinding light had dimmed to a soft
+glow. They were in a sort of gallery whose length was uncertain;
+between him and the outlet, about ten feet away, stood the confident,
+ever-smiling Bar.
+
+“You or I,” said he, jauntily. “Are you ready to try it? I have given
+you a fair chance!”
+
+He raised his dagger-like weapon, as though aiming it. At the same
+instant Chick pulled the trigger from the hip, snap aim.
+
+The gun was empty.
+
+Another second, and Watson would have been like those spots of colour
+on the ground outside. He breathed a prayer to his Maker. The Senestro's
+weapon was in line with his throat.
+
+But it was not to be. There came a flash and a stunning report; the
+deherer clattered against the wall, and the Senestro clutched a stinging
+hand. He was staring in surprise at something behind Chick--something
+that made him turn and dart out of sight.
+
+Chick wheeled.
+
+Right behind him stood the familiar form of the Jan Lucar; and a few
+feet beyond, a figure from which came a clear, cool, nonchalant voice;
+
+“I would have killed that fellow, Chick, but he's too damned handsome.
+I'm going to save him for a specimen.”
+
+Watson peered closer. He gave a gasp, half of amazement, half of
+delight. For the words were in English, and the voice--
+
+It was Harry Wendel.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+DR. HOLCOMB'S STORY
+
+
+If there was the least doubt in Chick's mind that this was really Harry,
+it was dispelled by the sight of the person who the next moment stepped
+up to his side. It was none other than the Nervina.
+
+“Harry Wendel!” gasped Watson. It was too good to be true!
+
+“Surest thing you know, Chick. It's me, alive and kicking!” as they
+grabbed one another.
+
+“How did you get here?”
+
+“Search me! Ask the lady; I'm just a creature of circumstance. I merely
+act; she does all the thinking.”
+
+The Nervina smiled and nodded. Her eyes were just as wonderful as
+Chick remembered them, full of elusiveness, of the moonbeam's light, of
+witchery past understanding.
+
+“Yes,” she affirmed. “You see, Mr. Watson, it is the will of the
+Prophet. Harry is of the Chosen. We have come for the great Dr.
+Holcomb--for the Jarados!”
+
+And she led the way. Watson followed in silent wonder; behind him came
+the Geos and the rest, quiet and reverent. The soft glow still held, so
+that they seemed to be walking through the walls of cold fire. At the
+end of the passage they came to a door.
+
+The Nervina touched three unmarked spots on the walls. The door opened.
+The queen stood aside, and motioned for Chick and Harry to enter.
+
+It was a long room, pear-shaped, and fitted up like the most elaborate
+sort of laboratory. And at the far end, seated in the midst of a strange
+array of crystals, retorts and unfamiliar apparatus, was a man whom the
+two instantly recognised.
+
+It was the missing professor, looking just as they remembered him from
+the days when they sat in his class in Berkeley. There was the same trim
+figure, the same healthy cheeks, pleasant eyes and close-cropped
+white beard. Always there had been something imperturbable about the
+doctor--he had that poise and equanimity which is ever the balance of
+sound judgment. Neither Chick nor Harry expected any rush of emotion,
+and they were not disappointed.
+
+Holcomb rose to his feet, revealing on the table before him a queer,
+dancing light which he had been studying. He touched something; the
+light vanished, and simultaneously there came an unnameable change in
+the appearance of certain of those puzzling crystals. The doctor stepped
+forward, hand extended, smiling; surely he did not look or act like a
+prisoner.
+
+“Well, well,” spoke he; “at last! Chick Watson and Harry Wendel! You're
+very welcome. Was it a long journey?”
+
+His eyes twinkled in the old way. He didn't wait for their replies. He
+went on:
+
+“Have we solved the Blind Spot? It seems that my pupils never desert me.
+Let me ask: have you solved the Blind Spot?”
+
+“We've solved nothing, professor. What we have come for is, first,
+yourself; and second, for the secrets you have found. It is for us to
+ask--what is the Blind Spot?”
+
+The professor shook his head.
+
+“You were always a poor guesser, Mr. Wendel. Perhaps Chick, now--”
+
+“Put me down as unprepared,” answered Chick. “I'm like Harry--I want to
+know!”
+
+“Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix,” laughed Holcomb. “We,
+who know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still more! It
+may be, after all, that we know very little; even though we have solved
+the problem.” His eyes twinkled again, aggravatingly.
+
+“Tell us, then!” from Harry, on impulse as always. “What is the Blind
+Spot?”
+
+But Holcomb shook his head. “Not just now, Harry; we have company.”
+ The Geos and the Jan had entered. “Besides, I am not quite ready. There
+remain several tangles to be unravelled.”
+
+As he shook hands with the Geos, he spoke in the Thomahlian tongue. “You
+are more than welcome.”
+
+The Rhamda bent low in reverence and awe. His voice was hushed. He
+spoke:
+
+“Art thou the Jarados, my lord?”
+
+“Aye,” stated the doctor. “I am he; I am the Jarados!”
+
+It was a stagger for both young men. Neither could reconcile the great
+professor of his schooldays with this strange, philosophic prophet of
+the occult Thomahlians. What was the connection? What was the fate that
+was leading, urging, compelling it all?
+
+“Professor, you will pardon our eagerness. Both Harry and I have had
+adventures, without understanding what it was all about. Can't you
+explain? Where are we? And--why?” And then:
+
+“Your lecture on the Blind Spot! You promised it to us--can you deliver
+it now?”
+
+The professor smiled his acknowledgement.
+
+“Part of it,” he said; “enough to answer your questions to some extent.
+Had I stayed in Berkeley I could have delivered it all, but”--and he
+laughed--“I know a whole lot more, now; and, paradoxically, I know far
+less! First let me speak to the Geos.” He learned that the struggle
+outside had terminated successfully for the Rhamda and his men. All was
+quiet. The Senestro had made his escape in safety back to the Mahovisal.
+The doctor ordered that he was not to be molested.
+
+The Geos and the others left the room, escorting the Aradna, who was
+too exhausted for further experiences. There remained with the doctor,
+Chick, Harry, and the Nervina.
+
+“I will reduce that lecture to synopsis form,” began the professor. “I
+shall tell you all that I know, up to this moment. First, however, let
+me show you something.”
+
+He indicated the table from which he had risen. Chief among the objects
+on its top were fragments of minerals, some familiar, some strange.
+Above and on all sides were the crystal globes or, at least, what Chick
+named as such--erected upon as many tripods. One of these the professor
+moved toward the table.
+
+Simultaneously a tiny dot appeared on a small metal plate in the centre
+of the table. At first almost invisible, it grew, after a minute or so,
+to a definite bit of matter.
+
+The professor moved the tripod away. Nearby crystals, inside of
+which some dull lights had leaped into momentary being, subsided into
+quiescence. And the three observers looked again and again at the solid
+fragment of material that had grown before their eyes on that table.
+
+Something had been made out of nothing!
+
+The doctor picked it up and held it unconcernedly in his fingers.
+
+“Can anybody tell me,” asked he, “what this is?”
+
+There was no answer. The professor tossed the thing back on the table.
+It gave forth a sharp, metallic sound.
+
+“You are looking at ether,” spoke he. “It is the ether itself--nothing
+else. You call it matter; others would call it iron; but those are
+merely names. I call it ether in motion--materialised force-coherent
+vibration.
+
+“Like everything else in the universe it answers to a law. It has its
+reason--there is no such thing as chance. Do you follow? That fragment
+is simply a principle, allowed to manifest itself through a natural law!
+
+“Try to follow me. All is out of the ether--all! Variety in matter is
+simply a question of varying degrees of electronic activity, depending
+upon a number of ratios. Life itself, as well as materiality and force,
+comes out of the all-pervading ether.
+
+“This object here,” touching the crystal, “is merely a conductor. It
+picks up the ether and sends it through a set degree of vibrational
+activity. Result? It makes iron!
+
+“If you wish you may go back to our twentieth century for a parallel--by
+which I mean, electricity. It is gathered crudely; but the time will
+come when it will be picked up out of the air in precisely the same
+manner that men pick hydrocarbons out of petroleum, or as I sift the
+desired quality of ether through that globe.
+
+“This, I am convinced, is one of the fundamental secrets of the Blind
+Spot. Is there any question?”
+
+Wendel managed to put one.
+
+“You said, 'back in the twentieth century.' Is it a question of time
+displacement, sir?”
+
+“Suppose we forgo that point at present. You will note, however, that
+the Thomahlian world is certainly far in advance of our own.”
+
+“Professor,” asked Watson, “is it the occult?”
+
+“Ah,” brightening; “now we are getting back to the old point. However,
+what is the occult?” He paused; then--“Did it ever occur to you, that
+the occult might prove to be the real world, proving that life we have
+known to be merely a shadow?”
+
+Silence greeted this. The professor went on:
+
+“Let me ask you: Are you living in a real world now, or an unreal one?”
+ There was no response. “It is, of course, a reality; just as truly as if
+you were in San Francisco. So,” very distinctly, “perhaps it is merely a
+question of viewpoint, as to which is the occult!”
+
+“Just what we want to know,” from Harry.
+
+“And that,” tossing up his hands, “is exactly what I cannot tell you.
+I have found out many things, but I cannot be sure. I left certainty in
+Berkeley.
+
+“Today I feel that there is some great fate, some unknown force that
+defies analysis, defies all attempts at resolution--a force that is
+driving me through the role of the Jarados. We are all a part of the
+Prophecy!
+
+“We must wait for the last day for our answer. That Prophecy must and
+will be fulfilled. And on that day we shall have the key to the Blind
+Spot--we shall know the where of the occult.”
+
+He took a sip from a tumbler of the familiar green fluid.
+
+“Now that I have told you this much, I am going back to the beginning.
+I, too, have had adventures.
+
+“How did I come to discover the Blind Spot?
+
+“It was about one year prior to my last lecture at the university. At
+the time I had been doing much psychic-research work, all of which you
+know. And out of it I had adduced some peculiar theories. For example:
+
+“Undoubtedly there is such a thing as a spirit world. If all the mediums
+but one were dishonest, and that one produced the results that couldn't
+be explained away by psychology, then we must admit the existence of
+another world.
+
+“But reason tells us that there is nothing but reality; that if there
+were a spirit world it must be just as real, just as substantial as
+our own. Moreover--somewhere, somehow, here must be a definite point of
+contact!
+
+“That was approximately my theory. Of course I had no idea how close I
+had come to a great truth. To some extent it was pure guesswork.
+
+“Then, one day Budge Kennedy brought me the blue stone. He told me its
+history, and he maintained that it was lighter than air, which of course
+I disbelieved until I took it out of the ring and saw for myself.
+
+“I went at once to the house at 288 Chatterton Place. There I found an
+old lady who had lived in the house for some time. I asked to see the
+cellar where the stone had been unearthed. Understand, I had no idea of
+the great discovery I was about to make; I merely wanted to see. And I
+found something almost as impossible as the blue stone itself-a
+green one, heavier than any known mineral, answering to no known
+classification but of an entirely new element. It was no larger than a
+pea, but of incredible weight.
+
+“Coming upstairs I found the old lady a bit perturbed. I had told her my
+name; she had recognised me as well.
+
+“'Come with me,' she said.
+
+“With that she opened a door. She was very old and very uncertain; yet
+she was scarcely afraid.
+
+“'In there,” she said, and pointed through the door.
+
+“I entered an ordinary room, furnished as a parlour. There was a sofa, a
+table, a few chairs; little else.
+
+“'What do you mean?' I asked.
+
+“'The man!'
+
+“'The man! What man?”
+
+“'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was shining.
+He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a lad that's in
+need of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa. He was tired, you
+see, and--I once had a son of my own.'
+
+“She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could feel the
+pressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.
+
+“'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it! They
+took him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'
+
+“She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.
+
+“'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when--they took
+him! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and the moon--it
+was gone. And then--' She looked up at me again and whispered: 'And then
+I heard a bell--a very beautiful bell--a church bell, sir? But you know,
+don't you? You are the great Dr. Holcomb. That's why you went into the
+cellar, wasn't it? Because you know!'
+
+“Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:
+
+“'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good enough
+to leave me to myself?'
+
+“She closed the door after her. I had the green stone in my hand; it was
+very heavy, and I placed it on one of the chairs. The blue stone I
+still held. At the moment I hadn't the least notion of what was about to
+happen; it was all accident, from beginning to end.
+
+“All of a sudden the room disappeared! That is, the side wall; I was not
+looking at the dingy old wallpaper, but out through and into an immense
+building, dim, vast and immeasurable.
+
+“Directly in front of me was a white substance like a stone of snow.
+Upon this substance was seated a man, about my own age, as nearly as I
+could make out. He looked up just as I noted him.
+
+“Our recognition was mutual. Immediately he made a sign with one hand.
+And at once I took a step forward; I thought he had motioned. It was all
+so real and natural. Though his features were dim he could not have been
+more than ten feet distant. But, at that very instant, when I made that
+one step, the whole thing vanished.
+
+“I was still in the room at Chatterton Place!
+
+“That's what started it all. Had this occurred to any one else in the
+world I should have labelled it an unaccountable illusion. But it had
+happened to me.
+
+“I had my theory; between the spiritual and the material there must be a
+point of contact. And--I had found it! I had discovered the road to
+the Indies, to the Occult, to all that other men call unknowable. And I
+called it--
+
+“The Blind Spot.”
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+THE ARADNA
+
+
+Thus had the professor got into actual touch with the occult--by sheer
+accident. Up to that time it had been only a hypothesis; now it was a
+fact. Next step was to open up direct communication.
+
+“That was difficult. To begin with, I worked to repeat the phenomena
+I had seen, getting some haphazard results from the start. My purpose
+throughout was to exchange intelligent comment with the individual I had
+beheld on that snow-stone within the Spot; and in the end I succeeded.
+
+“He gave me fairly explicit warning as to when the Blind Spot should
+open, not only to the eye, but in its entirety, as it had done for the
+young man of whom the old lady had told me. We agreed through signs that
+he would come through first.
+
+“Understand, up to the instant of his actual arrival, I didn't know just
+what he was like. I had to be content with his sign-talk, by which he
+assured me he was a real man, material, of life and the living.
+
+“I made my announcement. You know most of what followed. The Rhamda
+came to Berkeley; together we returned to Chatterton Place, for it
+was imperative that we hold the Spot open or at least maintain the
+phenomenon at such a point that we could reopen it at will. Both of us
+were guessing.
+
+“Neither of us knew, at the time, just how long the Rhamda could endure
+our atmosphere. He had risked his life to come through; it was no more
+than fair that I should accede to his caution and insure him a safe
+return to his own world.
+
+“But things went wrong. It was ignorance as much as accident. At
+Chatterton Place I was caught in the Blind Spot, and without a particle
+of preparation was tossed into the Thomahlia.
+
+“When I came through, the Nervina went out. Thus I found myself in this
+strange place with no one to guide me. And unfortunately, or rather,
+fortunately, I fell into the hands of the Bar Senestro.
+
+“Now, for all that he is a sceptic, the Senestro is a brave man; and
+like many another unbeliever, he has a sense of humour. My coming had
+been promised by Avec; so he knew that somehow I was a part of the
+Prophecy--the prophecy which, for reasons of his own, he did not want
+fulfilled.
+
+“So he isolated me here in the house of the Jarados. A bold sort of
+humor, I call it--to defy the Prophecy in the very spot where it was
+written!
+
+“But it was fortunate. I was in the house of the old prophet, with its
+stores of wisdom, secrets, raw elements and means for applying the laws
+of nature. All that I hitherto had only guessed at, I now had at my
+disposal: libraries, laboratories, everything. I was a recluse with no
+interruptions and perfect facility for study.
+
+“First of all I went into their philosophy. Then into their science,
+and afterwards into their history. Whereupon I made a rather startling
+discovery.
+
+“Apparently I AM THE JARADOS.
+
+“For my coming had been foretold almost to the hour. As I went on with
+the research I found many other points that seemed familiar. Plainly
+there was something that had led me into the Spot; and most certainly it
+was not mere chance. I became convinced that not merely my own destiny,
+but a higher, a transcendental fate was at stake.
+
+“In the course of time I became certain of this. Meanwhile I mastered
+most of the secrets of this palace--the wisdom of the ancient Jarados.
+Though a prisoner, I was the happiest of men--which I still remain. The
+Bars kept close watch over me, constantly changing their guard. And it
+was on one of those occasions that I found MacPherson.
+
+“Well, after MacPherson's coming I was pretty much my own master.
+I induced the Senestro to allow MacPherson to remain as a constant
+bodyguard. But I never told Pat what was what, except that some day we
+should extricate ourselves.
+
+“You may wonder why I did not open the Spot.
+
+“There were several reasons: First, in the nature of the phenomenon it
+must be opened only on the earth side, except on rare occasions when
+certain conditions are peculiarly favourable. That's why the Rhamda Avec
+could not do it alone; I know now that I should have imparted to him
+certain technicalities. I possessed two of the keys then; now, I know
+there are three.
+
+“And I have learned that each of these is a sinister thing.
+
+“The blue stone, for instance, is life, and it is male. Rather a
+sweeping and ambiguous statement; but you will comprehend it in the end.
+Were a man to wear it it would kill him, in time; but a woman can wear
+it with impunity.
+
+“Perhaps you will appreciate that statement better if you note what I
+have just done through the medium of that crystal. The blue gem is an
+inductor of the ether; in a sense, it is one of the anchors of the Spot
+of Life, or the Blind Spot--whatever we want to call it--the Spot of
+Contact.
+
+“The other two particles--the red and the green one--are respectively
+the Soul and the Material. Or, let us say, the etheric embryos of these
+essentials.
+
+“The three stones constitute an eternal trinity.
+
+“As for the substance of the Spot itself, that I cannot tell, just yet.
+But I do know that the whole truth will come out clear in the fulfilment
+of the Prophecy. I am convinced that it has translated Watson, and now
+Harry Wendel and the Nervina.”
+
+“Can you control it?” asked Chick.
+
+“To a limited extent. I have been able to watch you ever since your
+coming. You did not know about Harry, but I saw him come--in the arms of
+the Nervina.”
+
+The Nervina nodded.
+
+“It is so. I knew the Senestro. I was afraid that Harry would fall into
+his hands. I had previously endeavoured to have him give the jewel to
+Charlotte Fenton. I didn't trust the great Bar--”
+
+Harry interrupted, “Only because of her distrust of the Senestro did she
+decide to come through the Blind Spot with me. She knew what to do. As
+soon as we got here, she bundled me off, privately nursed me back to
+health if not strength, and when the time came rushed me up here at the
+last second to be in at the finish.”
+
+Watson thought of the dog, Queen. She also had come through just in time
+to save his life. Did Harry know anything about her? When Wendel had
+related what he knew, Chick commented:
+
+“It's almighty strange, Harry. Everything works out to fit in exactly
+with that confounded Prophecy. Perhaps that accounts for your affinity
+for the Nervina; it is something beyond your control, or hers. We'll
+have to wait and see.”
+
+There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full of
+Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself, was now
+issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the sixteen days,
+now very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas constantly alluded to
+as “the Day of Judgment.”
+
+The Senestro went unmolested. Returning to the Mahovisal, he worked now
+to further the truths of the Prophecy.
+
+Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming from
+the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims' aircraft kept the
+air above the city constantly alive. There were days such as no man had
+ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to composure, gave evidence of the
+strain. The atmosphere was tense, charged with expectancy and hope. A
+whole world was coming to what it conceived as its judgment, and its
+end. And--the Spot of Life was the Blind Spot!
+
+At last the doctor summoned the two young men. It was night, and the
+June Bug was waiting. This time the Geos himself was at the controls.
+
+“We are going to the Mahovisal,” spoke the doctor--“to the Temple of
+the Bell and Leaf. There is still something I must know before the
+Judgment.” He was speaking English. “If we can bring the Prophecy
+to pass just so far, and no farther, we shall be able to extricate
+ourselves nicely. Anyway, I think we shall not return to the Palace of
+Light.”
+
+He held a black leather case in his hand. He touched it with a finger.
+
+“If this little case and its contents get through the Blind Spot it
+will advance civilisation--our civilisation--about a thousand-fold. So
+remember: Whatever happens to me, be sure and remember this case! It
+must go through the Spot!”
+
+He said no more, but took his seat beside the Geos. The young men took
+the rear seats. In a short time they had crossed the great range of
+mountains and were hovering over the Mahovisal.
+
+There was no sound. Though the city was packed with untold millions, the
+tension was such that scarcely a murmur came out of the metropolis. The
+air was magnetic, charged, strained close to the breaking point; above
+all, the reverence for the Last Day, and the hope, rising, accumulating,
+to the final supreme moment.
+
+For the Sixteenth Day was now only forty-eight hours removed.
+
+Both Chick and Harry realised that their lives were at stake; the doctor
+had made that clear. In the last minute, in the final crisis, they must
+crowd their way through the Blind Spot. Only the professor knew how it
+was to be done.
+
+At the temple they found the Nervina and the Aradna waiting. The Jan
+Lucar was with them. The Geos had secured entrance by a side door. From
+it they could look out, themselves unobserved, over the entire building
+and upon the Spot of Life. The place was packed--thousands upon
+thousands of people, standing in silent awe and worship, one and all
+gazing toward the all-important Spot. There was no sound save the
+whisper of multitudinous breathing.
+
+Said Harry to Chick:
+
+“I see Queen up there!”
+
+Harry circled the group, and bounded up the great stairs. In a moment
+he was patting his dog's head. She looked up and wagged her tail to show
+her pleasure. But she was not effusive. Somehow she wasn't just like his
+old shepherd. She glanced at him, and then out at the concourse below,
+and lolled her tongue expectantly. Then she settled back into her place
+and resumed watch--exactly as any of her kind would have held guard over
+a band of sheep.
+
+The dog was serious. Afterward, Wendel said he had a dim notion that she
+was no longer a dog at all, but a mere instrument in the hand of Fate.
+
+“What's the matter, old girl?” he asked. “Don't you like 'em?”
+
+For answer she gave a low whine. She looked up again, and out into the
+throng; she repeated the whine, with a little whimper at the end.
+
+Harry returned to the others. Nothing was said of what he had done. At
+once the Geos led the group through a small, half-hidden door, beyond
+which was a narrow, winding stairway of chocolate-coloured stone. The
+Geos halted.
+
+“Dost wish the building emptied, O Jarados?”
+
+“I do. When we come back from under the Spot of Life, we should have the
+place to ourselves.”
+
+Accompanied by the two queens the Rhamda returned to the main body of
+the temple. Dr. Holcomb, Harry and Chick were left to themselves.
+
+The professor took out a notebook. In it was traced a map, or chart,
+together with several notations.
+
+“The three of us,” said he, “are going to take a look at the under side
+of the Blind Spot. This stairway leads into a secret chamber inside the
+foundations of the great stair; and according to this data I found in
+the palace, together with some calculations of my own, we ought to find
+some of the secrets of the Spot.”
+
+He led the way up the steps. At the top of the flight they came to a
+blank, blue wall. There was no sign of a door, but in the front of the
+wall stood a low platform, in the centre of which was set a strange, red
+stone. The professor consulted his chart, then opened his black case.
+From it he took another stone, red like the other, but not so intense.
+This he touched to the first, and waited.
+
+Inside a minute a light sprang up from the contact. Immediately Harry
+and Chick beheld something they had not seen on the wall--a knob, or
+button. The doctor pulled sharply on it. Instantly a door opened in the
+wall.
+
+They passed into another room. It was not a large place--about thirty
+feet across, perhaps, stone-walled and with a low ceiling. From all
+sides a soft, intrinsic glow was given off. There were no furnishings.
+
+But in the centre of the ceiling, occupying almost all the space
+overhead, a snow-white substance hung as if suspended. Were it not
+for its colour and its size, it might have been likened to an immense,
+horizontal grindstone hung in mid-air, with apparently nothing to hold
+it there. Around its side they could make out a narrow gap between
+it and the ceiling. And directly along its lower edge was a series of
+small, fiery jewels inset, and of the order and colour of the sign of
+the Jarados--red, blue and green, alternating.
+
+The professor produced an electric torch and held it up to show that the
+gap between the stone and the ceiling was unbroken at any point. Then he
+counted the jewels on the lower edge. Chick made out twenty-four. Three
+were missing from their sockets--all told, then, there should have been
+twenty-seven.
+
+The doctor noted the positions of the three empty sockets and, drawing
+a tapeline from his pocket, proceeded to measure the distances from each
+of the three--they were widely separated round the circle--from each
+other. Then he turned to Chick and Harry.
+
+“Do you know where we are?”
+
+“Under the Spot of Life,” it was easy to answer.
+
+“You are in San Francisco!”
+
+“Not in--in--” Chick hesitated.
+
+“Yes. Exactly. This is 288 Chatterton Place--the house of the Blind
+Spot.” He paused for them to digest this. Then, “Harry--did you say
+Hobart Fenton was with you on that last night?”
+
+“Hobart and his sister, Charlotte. I remember their coming at the last
+minute. They were too late, sir.”
+
+The professor nodded.
+
+“Well, Harry, the chances are that Hobart is not more than twenty
+feet away at the present moment. Charlotte may be sitting right
+there”--pointing to a spot at Harry's side--“this very instant. And
+there may be many others.
+
+“No doubt they are working hard to solve the mystery. Unfortunately the
+best they can do is to guess. We hold the key. That is--I should correct
+that statement--we hold the knowledge, and they hold the keys.”
+
+“The keys?” Harry wanted to know more.
+
+The professor pointed to the three empty sockets in the great white
+stone above their heads. “These three missing stones are the keys.
+Until they are reset we cannot control the Spot. I had found two of
+them before I came through. I take it that both of you remember the blue
+one?”
+
+“I think,” agreed Chick, “that neither of us is ever likely to forget
+it! Eh, Harry?”
+
+The professor smiled. He was holding the light up to the snow-stone,
+at a spot that would have been the point of intersection had lines been
+drawn from the three missing gems, and the resulting triangle centred.
+He held his hand up to the substance. It was slightly rough at that
+point, as though it had been frozen.
+
+Then he ran his fingers across the surrounding surface.
+
+“Ah!” he exclaimed. “I thought so! That helps considerably. Chick--put
+your hand up here. What do you feel?”
+
+“Rough,” said Chick, feeling the intersection point. “Slightly so, but
+cold and--and magnetic.”
+
+“Now feel here.”
+
+“Cool and magnetic, doctor; but smooth. What does it prove?”
+
+“Let's see; do you understand the term 'electrolysis'? Good. Well,
+there should be another clue--not similar, but supplementary, or rather,
+complementary--on the earth side. Perhaps one of you found it while you
+lived in that house.” The professor eyed both men anxiously. “Did either
+of you find a stain, or anything of that sort, on the walls, ceiling, or
+floor of any room there?”
+
+Both shook their heads.
+
+“Well, there ought to be,” frowned the doctor. “I am positive that,
+should we return now, we could locate some such phenomenon. From this
+side it is very easy to account for; it's simply the disintegrating
+effect of the current, constantly impinging at the point of contact or
+the intersection. Having acted on this side, it must have left some mark
+on the other.”
+
+Watson was still running his hand over the snow-stone. Once before, when
+he had stood barefooted in the contest with the Senestro, he had noted
+its cold magnetism.
+
+“What is this substance, professor?”
+
+“That, I have not been able to discover. I would call it neutral
+element, for want of a more exact term; something that touches both
+aspects of the spectrum.”
+
+“Both aspects of the spectrum?”
+
+“Yes; as nearly as the limitations of my vocabulary will permit. If you
+recall, I showed you a simple experiment the other day in the palace.
+By means of an inductor I drew out the iron principle from the ether and
+built up the metal. Only it was not precisely iron but its Thomahlian
+equivalent. Had you been on the earth side you would have seen nothing
+at all, not even myself. I was on the wrong aspect of the spectrum.
+
+“Also, you see here the Jaradic colours--the crimson, green and
+blue--the shades between, the iridescence and the shadows. Had you
+been on the other side you wouldn't have seen one of them; they are not
+precisely our own colours, but their equivalents on this side of the
+Spot.
+
+“In the final analysis, as I said before, it gets down to ether, to
+speed and vibration--and still at last to the perceptive limitations of
+our own earthly five senses. Just stop and consider how limited we are!
+Only five senses--why, even insects have six. Then consider that all
+matter, when we get to the bottom of it, is differentiated and condensed
+ether, focused into various mathematical arrangements, as numberless as
+the particles of the universe. Of these our five senses pick out a very
+small proportion indeed.
+
+“This is one way to account for the Blind Spot. It may be merely
+another phase of the spectrum--not simply the unexplored regions of the
+infra-red or the ultra-violet, but a region co-existent with what we
+normally apprehend, and making itself manifest through apertures in what
+we, with our extremely limited sense-grasp, think to be a continuous
+spectrum. I throw out the idea mainly as a suggestion. It is not
+necessarily the true explanation.
+
+“Let us go a bit farther. Remember, we are still upon the earth. And
+that we are still in San Francisco, although all the while we are also
+in the Mahovisal. This is 288 Chatterton Place, and at the same time
+it is the Temple of the Bell. It might be a hundred or a thousand other
+places just as well, too, if my hypothesis is correct; which we shall
+see.
+
+“Now, what does this mean? Simply this, gentlemen, that we five-sensed
+people have failed to grasp the true meaning of the word 'Infinity.' We
+look out toward the stars, fancying that only in unlimited space can we
+find the infinite. We little suspect we ourselves are infinity! It is
+only our five senses that make us finite.
+
+“As soon as we grasp this the so-called spiritual realm becomes a very
+substantial fact. We begin to apprehend the occult. Our five-sensed
+world is merely a highly specialized phase of infinity. Material or
+spiritual--it is all the same. That's why we look on the Thomahlians as
+occult, and why they consider us in the same light.
+
+“It is strictly a question of sense perception and limitations, which
+can be covered by the word, 'viewpoint.' Viewpoint--that is all it
+amounts to.
+
+“There is no such thing as unreality; but there is most certainly such a
+thing as relativity, and all life is real.
+
+“Of course I knew nothing of this until the discovery of the Blind Spot.
+It will, I think, prove to be one of the greatest events in history. It
+will silence the sceptics, and form a bulwark for all religion. And it
+will make us all appreciate our Creator the more.”
+
+The professor stopped. For some moments there was silence.
+
+“What are we to do now?” asked Harry.
+
+But the professor chose not to answer. With his tape he began taking a
+fresh series of measurements, with reference to the empty sockets and
+one particularly brilliant red gem, which seemed to be “number one” in
+the circle. From time to time the doctor jotted down the results and
+made short calculations. Presently he said: “That ought to be enough.
+Now suppose we--”
+
+At that instant something happened. Harry Wendel caught him by the
+shoulder. He pointed to the suspended stone.
+
+It was moving!
+
+It was revolving, almost imperceptibly, like some vast wheel turning
+on its axis. So slowly did it rotate, the motion would have escaped
+attention were it not for the gems and their brilliance.
+
+Suddenly it came to a stop, short and quick, as though it had dropped
+into a notch. And from above they heard the deep, solemn clang of the
+temple bell.
+
+“What is that?” asked Harry, startled. “Who moved the stone?”
+
+“Can it be,” flashed Chick, “that Hobart Fenton has found the keys?”
+
+“That remains to be seen!” from the doctor. “Come--we must find out what
+has happened!”
+
+Within a minute they knew. As they came out of the private door on the
+now emptied floor of the great temple, they saw the senior queen, the
+Nervina, coming down the great stairway from the Spot of Life.
+
+“What is it?” called Harry, apprehensively.
+
+“The Aradna!” she replied. Her voice was curiously strained. “Something
+happened, and--she has fallen through the Spot!”
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+OUT OF THE OCCULT
+
+
+“HOW DID IT HAPPEN?”
+
+“I scarcely know. We went up to play with the dog. It was unwilling to
+leave the place, and Aradna teasingly tried to push her off on to the
+steps. She succeeded, but--well, it was all over that quick. The Aradna
+was gone!”
+
+But the Spot had by this time lost a good deal of its terror. Knowing
+what was on the other side, and who, made a great difference. As the
+doctor said later in a private consultation with Chick and Harry:
+
+“It's not so bad. That is, if Hobart Fenton is at work there. I think
+he is. Really, I only regret that we didn't know of this beforehand; we
+could have sent a message through to him.”
+
+And the professor went on to explain what he meant. At the time he
+spoke, it was twenty-four hours after the Aradna's going; another
+twenty-four hours would see the evening of the Last Day--the sixteenth
+of the sacred Days of Life--what the Rhamdas alluded to as “the Day of
+Judgment.” And the Mahovisal was a seething mass of humanity, all bent
+upon seeing the fulfillment of their highest hopes.
+
+“Bear in mind that if the Spot should not open at the last moment, you
+and I are done for. We will be self-condemned 'False Ones'; our lives
+will not last one minute after midnight tomorrow night if we fail to get
+through!
+
+“That Prophecy means EVERYTHING to the Thomahlians. There was a time
+when they accepted it on faith; now it is an intellectual conviction
+with every last one of them. And one and all look forward to a new and
+glorious life beyond the Spot--in the occult world--our world!
+
+“Now, the ticklish part of the job will be to open the Spot just long
+enough to permit us to get through, yet prevent the whole Prophecy from
+coming to pass. We've got to get through, together with that black case
+of mine, and then shut the door in the face of all Thomahlia!”
+
+Nothing more was said on the subject until late the following afternoon,
+as the doctor, Harry, and Chick sat down to a light meal. They ate much
+as if nothing whatever was in the wind. From where they sat, in one part
+of a wing of the temple, they could look out into the crowded streets,
+in which were packed untold numbers of pilgrims, all pressing towards
+the great square plaza in front of the temple. No guards were to be
+seen; the solemnity of the occasion was sufficient to keep order. But
+the terrific potentiality of that semi-fanatical host did not cause the
+doctor's voice to change one iota.
+
+“There is no telling what may happen,” he said. “For my own part I shall
+not venture near the Spot of Life until just at the end. I shall remain
+in the chamber underneath.
+
+“But you two ought to show yourselves immediately after sundown. Certain
+ancient writings indicate it. You, and the Nervina, will have to mount
+the stair to the Spot, and remain in sight until midnight--until the
+end.
+
+“So we must be prepared for accidents.” He took some papers from his
+pocket, and selected two, and gave one to each of his pupils. “Here are
+the details of what must be done. In case only one of us gets through,
+it will be enough.”
+
+“But--how can these be of any use, on such short notice?” Harry asked.
+
+“Cudgel your brains a bit, gentlemen,” he chided good-humouredly. “You
+will soon see my drift. This is one of those occasions when the psychic
+elements involved are such that, without doubt, it were best if you
+reacted naturally to whatever may happen.
+
+“Now you will note that I have made a drawing of the Blind Spot region;
+also certain calculations which will explain themselves.
+
+“Moreover, I have written out the combination to my laboratory safe in
+my house in Berkeley. The green stone is there. Bertha will help, as
+soon as she understands that it is my wish; no explanation will be
+needed.
+
+“You may leave the rest to me, young gentlemen. Act as through you
+had no notion that I was down below the Spot. I shall be merely
+experimenting a bit with that circle of jewels, to see if the phenomena
+which affected the Aradna cannot be repeated. I fancy it was not mere
+accident, but rather the working of a 'period.'”
+
+He said no more about this, except to comment that he hoped to get into
+direct communication with Hobart Fenton before midnight should arrive.
+However, he did say, in an irrelevant sort of manner:
+
+“Oh, by the way--do either of you happen to recall which direction the
+house at Chatterton Place faces?”
+
+“North,” replied Harry and Chick, almost in the same breath.
+
+“Ah yes. Well, the temple faces south. Can you remember that?”
+
+They thought they could. The rest of the meal was eaten without any
+discussion. Just as they arose, however, the doctor observed:
+
+“It may be that Hobart Fenton has got to come through. I wish I
+knew more about his mentality; it's largely a question of psychic
+influence--the combined, resultant force of the three material gems, and
+the three degrees of psychic vibration as put forth by him and you two.
+We shall see.
+
+“Something happened today--the Geos told me about it--which may link up
+Hobart very definitely. It was about one o'clock when one of the temple
+pheasants began to behave very queerly up on the great stair. It had
+been walking around on the snow-stone, and flying a bit; then it started
+to hop down the steps.
+
+“About sixteen steps down, Geos says the pheasant stopped and began
+to flutter frantically, as though some unseen person were holding it.
+Suddenly it vanished, and as suddenly reappeared again. It flew off,
+unharmed. I can't quite account for it, but--well, we'll see!”
+
+He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the wing.
+There they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina and her
+retinue arrived. Without delay a start was made for the great black
+stairway.
+
+The doctor alone remained behind.
+
+There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the Nervina and
+the rest access to the foot of the steps. Reaching that point she paused
+for a look around.
+
+The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple had not
+yet been turned on. Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung portentously,
+even more ominous than in the brighter light. The huge waterspout
+columns, the terrific size of the auditorium, were none the less
+impressive for the incalculable horde that filled every bit of floor
+space. At the front of the building the archway gave a glimpse of the
+vastly greater throng waiting outside.
+
+But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme
+expectation.
+
+The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to
+top, with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the three
+chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The green one had
+been brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the
+foot of the stairs.
+
+In this chair sat the Bar Senestro. Deployed about him, at a respectful
+distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds in number. Behind
+the Bars, separating them from the crowds at their backs, were grouped
+the crimson and blue guardsmen. Among them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar
+and the MacPherson, but Chick could locate neither.
+
+The Nervina, taking Harry's arm, ascended the steps. Chick followed,
+with the Rhamda Geos at his side. At the top of the flight the Nervina
+was escorted to one of the chairs, while Chick placed the Geos in the
+other.
+
+It left the two Californians on their feet, to move around to whatever
+extent seemed commensurate with dignity. Chick drew Harry aside.
+
+“What do you suppose,” said Chick, indicating the handsome, confident
+figure in the chair at the base of the stairs--“what do you suppose
+friend Senestro is thinking about?”
+
+Harry frowned. “You know him better than I do. You don't think he has
+reformed?”
+
+“Not on your life; not the Bar. He's merely adjusted his plans to the
+new situation. He sees that the Prophecy is likely to be fulfilled; so,
+he counts on being the first to get through, after the Nervina. Then,
+whether the rest of the Thomahlia follows or not--he calls himself the
+divinely appointed leader now, I understand--he will get through and
+marry the two Queens anyhow!”
+
+Perhaps it was because the crowd was so terrifically large. Or, there
+may have been something in the destiny of things that would not permit
+the chief actors to feel nervous. Certain it is that neither of the two
+men experienced the least stage fright. Had they been on display before
+a crowd one-tenth the size, anywhere else, both would have been ill at
+ease. This was different--enormously so.
+
+No longer was there any circulation in the crowd. People remained in
+their places now, just as they expected the end to find them. Chick
+and Harry marvelled at their composure, strangely in contrast with
+the ceaseless activities of the temple pheasants darting everywhere
+overhead.
+
+Suddenly Harry remarked:
+
+“I've got an idea, Chick! It's this: How does the professor expect to
+send a message to Hobart?” Chick could not guess.
+
+But already Harry had taken his sheet of instructions from his pocket,
+and was rolling it into a compact pellet. Then he went to Queen, and
+with a ribbon borrowed from the Nervina, tied the message tightly to the
+dog's collar.
+
+“Hobart will be certain to see it,” said he. “I wonder if the doctor's
+figured it out yet?”
+
+“He's playing with a tremendous force,” observed Chick, thoughtfully.
+He reached out and touched the snow-stone with his foot, just as he had
+done before, and fancied that he could feel that electric thrill even
+through the leather of his shoes. “Still, it's worth any risk he may
+be taking down in that chamber. If only he could send Queen through!
+Hobart--”
+
+He never finished the sentence. He staggered, thrown off his balance by
+reason of the fact that he had been resting the weight of one foot on
+the stone and--it moved!
+
+Moved--shifted about its axis, just as it had done forty-eight hours
+previously, when the Aradna had dropped through.
+
+And Chick had only a flash of a second for a glimpse of the startled
+faces of Harry, the Nervina and the Geos, the huge multitude below the
+stair, Queen on the other side, and the fateful Prophecy on the walls
+above him, before--
+
+A figure came into existence at his side. It was that of a powerfully
+built man, on whose wrists were curious red circles. And Chick shouted
+in a great voice:
+
+“Hobart!”
+
+And then came blackness.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+THE LAST LEAF
+
+
+Watson's story was now completed. During the entire recital his auditors
+had spoken scarcely a word. It had been marvellous--almost a revelation.
+With the possible exception of Sir Henry Hodges, not one had expected
+that it would measure up to this. For the whole thing backed up
+Holcomb's original proposition:
+
+“The Occult is concrete.”
+
+Certainly, if what Watson had told them was true, then Infinity had been
+squared by itself. Not only was there an infinity that we might look up
+to through the stars, but there was another just as great, co-existent,
+here upon the earth. The occult became not only possible, but unlimited.
+
+The next few minutes would prove whether or not he had told the truth.
+
+It was now close to midnight.
+
+Jerome and General Hume had returned from Berkeley. Their quest had been
+successful; Watson now had the missing green stone. A number of soldiers
+were stationed about the house. Watson noted these men when he had
+finished his account, and said:
+
+“Good. We may need them, although I hope not. Fortunately the Spot is
+small, and a few of us can hold it against a good many. What we must do
+is to extricate our friends and close it. Afterward we may have time for
+more leisurely investigation. But we must remember, above all things,
+that black case of Professor Holcomb's! It holds the secrets.
+
+“Now I must ask you all to step out of this room. This library, you
+know, is the Blind Spot.”
+
+He directed them to take positions along the balustrade of the stairway,
+out in the hall--through the wide archway, where they could have a clear
+view, yet be safe.
+
+It was a curious test. With nothing but his mathematics and his drawing
+to go by, Watson was about to set the three stones in their invisible
+sockets. He spread the map out carefully, likewise his calculations;
+they gave him, on this floor, the precise positions that he charted
+on the earth of the cellar. A glance toward the front of the
+house--north--then a little measuring, three chalk-marks on the carpet,
+and he was ready for the final move.
+
+He took the fateful ring and with a penknife pried up the prongs that
+held the stone. As it popped out he caught it with one hand. Then he
+looked at the row of wondering faces along the stair.
+
+“I think it will work,” he said. “But, remember--don't come near! I
+shall get out as best I can myself; don't try to save me.”
+
+With that he held the jewel on the first of the three chalk-marks on the
+circumference of the great circle. He held it tight against the carpet
+and then let go. Up it flashed about one foot--and disappeared.
+
+There was no sound. Next Watson took the red stone. With it, the process
+was inverted. Instead of holding it to the floor he raised it as high as
+he could reach, directly above the second mark. Then he let it drop.
+
+It did not reach the floor. It fell a little more than halfway, and
+vanished.
+
+The third stone, the green one, was still remaining. Watson took it to
+the third and final mark on the circle, taking care to keep outside the
+circumference that marked the Spot. This mark was directly in front of
+the archway. He turned to them.
+
+“Watch carefully,” he spoke. “I do not know what has transpired in the
+temple during the past few hours. Be ready for ANYTHING. All of you!”
+
+He dropped the stone.
+
+With the same motion he dodged out into the hall.
+
+Though there was no sound there was something that every one felt--a
+sibilant undertone and cold vibration--a tense flash of magnetism. Then
+the dot of blue--a string of incandescence; just as had been spoken.
+
+The Blind Spot was opening.
+
+Watson silently warned the others to remain where they were and
+himself crowded back against the stair. And as he did so, someone came
+noiselessly down the steps from the floor above, passed unnoticed behind
+the watchers and thence across into the hall.
+
+It was a slender, frail figure in white--the Aradna, walking like one in
+the grip of a higher will. Before they could make a move she had stepped
+into the Blind Spot, under the dot of blue, and into a string of light.
+And then--she was gone.
+
+It was as swift as a guess. It was inexorable and unseen; and being
+unseen, close akin to terror. The group watched and waited, scarcely
+breathing. What would happen next?
+
+There came a sudden, jarring click--like the tapping of iron. And next
+instant--
+
+The Spot opened to human sight.
+
+The library at 288 Chatterton Place was gone. Instead, the people on
+the stairs were gazing down from the Spot of Life, straight into the
+colossal Temple of the Jarados.
+
+It was as Chick had described it--immense--beyond conception. Through
+the great doors and out into the plaza beyond was gathered all
+Thomahlia, reverent, like those waiting for the crack of doom.
+
+Above the horde, high on the opposite wall, stood out the monster Clover
+Leaf of the Jarados; three-coloured--blazing like liquid fire; it was
+ominous with real life.
+
+At that moment the whole concourse rippled with commotion. Arms were
+uplifted; one and all pointed towards the dais. They, too were looking
+through the Spot. Then the multitude began to move.
+
+It heaved and surged and rolled toward the centre. The guards were
+pressed in upon the Bars, the Bars upon the Rhamda-lined stair. There
+was no resisting that flood of humanity. On and up it came, sweeping
+everything before it.
+
+Directly in the foreground lay the snow-stone. On its centre stood
+the dog Queen, crouching, waiting, bristling. By her side Harry Wendel
+crouched on one knee, as if awaiting the signal. Behind him, the
+Nervina, supporting the awakening Aradna. And in front of all, the
+powerful bulk of Hobart Fenton, standing squarely at the head of the
+stair, ready to grapple the first to reach the landing.
+
+But most important of all, there stood the doctor himself. He was at the
+Nervina's side; in his hand, the case of priceless data. He was gazing
+through the Spot and making a signal of some kind to Watson, whereupon
+the latter leaped to the edge of the unseen circle.
+
+Something had gone wrong. The Spot was not fully open. Nothing but sight
+could get through.
+
+Yet there was no time for anything. Up the stairs came the Bars, leading
+and being pressed forward by the horde. At their head dashed the Bar
+Senestro, handsome as Alexander. Hobart stepped forward to meet him, but
+the doctor stopped him with a word.
+
+Only a few seconds elapsed between death and salvation. Again Dr.
+Holcomb signed to Watson; not a sound came through. Watson hesitated.
+
+The dog Queen shot to her feet. Then the Senestro, out-distancing all
+the rest and dodging Hobart, had leaped upon the dais.
+
+Upon the wall across the temple the great Leaf of the Jarados stood out
+like sinister fire. It pulsed and vibrated--alive. The top petal--the
+blue one--suddenly broke into a seething wave of flame.
+
+Still Watson held back. He could not understand what Holcomb meant.
+
+Queen waited only until the Senestro set foot on the dais. She crouched,
+then leaped.
+
+It was done.
+
+With a lightning shift of his nimble feet, the high-tempered Bar
+kicked the shepherd in the side. Caught at full leap, she was knocked
+completely over and fell upon the snow-stone.
+
+It was the Sacrilege!
+
+Even the Bars beyond the Senestro stopped in horror. The Four-Footed
+One--sacred to the Jarados--it was she who had been touched! Had the
+Senestro undone all on the Spot of Judgment, What would be the end?
+
+Fenton acted. He caught the Senestro before he could get his balance and
+with a mighty heave hurled him over the side of the stair. A second, and
+it was over.
+
+Another second was the last. For the great Leaf of the Jarados had
+opened.
+
+The green and red stood still; but out of the blue came a dazzling
+light, a powerful beam; so brilliant, it seemed solid. It shot across
+the whole sweep of the temple and touched the Prophecy. Over the golden
+scrolls it traced its marvellous colour, until it came to the lines:
+
+  Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I
+  have given ye, and the day be postponed--beware ye of
+  sacrilege!
+
+For a moment the strange light stood still, so that the checked millions
+might read. Then it turned upon the dais.
+
+There it spread, and hovered over the group, until it seemed to work
+them together--the Nervina to Harry, the Aradna to Hobart. Not one of
+them knew what it was; they obeyed by impulse--it was their destiny; the
+Chosen, and the queens.
+
+The light stopped at the foot of Dr. Holcomb. Then the strangest thing
+happened.
+
+Out of the light--or rather, from where it bathed the snowstone--came a
+man; a man much like Holcomb, bearded and short and kindly.
+
+He was the real Jarados!
+
+Unhesitatingly the professor stepped up beside him. Then followed Hobart
+and the Aradna, Harry and the Nervina, and lastly, from the crowd of
+Bars, MacPherson. The whole concourse in the temple stopped in awe and
+terror.
+
+Only for a second. Then the Jarados and all at his side--were gone.
+
+And upon the snow-stone there stood a sword of living flame.
+
+It stood there for just a breath, exactly where the group had been.
+
+And it was gone.
+
+That was all.
+
+No; not quite all. For when the Blind Spot closed that night at 288
+Chatterton Place, there came once more the deep, solemn peal of the Bell
+of the Jarados.
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+THE UNACCOUNTABLE
+
+
+Were this account merely a work of fiction, it would harmonise things so
+as to have no unaccountables in it. As it is, the present writers will
+have to make this quite clear:
+
+It is not known why the Rhamda Avec failed to show himself at the
+crucial moment. Perhaps he could have changed everything. We can only
+surmise; he has not been seen or heard from since.
+
+Which also is true of Mr. Chick Watson. He disappeared immediately after
+the closing of the Spot, saying that he was going to Bertha Holcomb's
+home. No trace has been found of either to date. Doubtless the reader
+has noted advertisement in the papers, appealing to the authorities to
+report any one of Watson's description applying for a marriage licence.
+
+As for his two friends, Wendel and Fenton, together with the Aradna and
+the Nervina, they and MacPherson and the doctor absolutely vanished from
+all the knowledge, either of the Thomahlia or the earth. The Jarados
+alone can tell of them.
+
+Mme. Le Fabre, however, feels that she can explain the matter
+satisfactorily. Abridged, her theory runs:
+
+“There is but one way to explore the Occult. That way is to die.
+
+“For all that we were so strongly impressed with the reality of
+Mr. Watson, I am firmly convinced that he was simply a spirit; that
+everything we saw was spirit manifestation.
+
+“Dr. Holcomb and all the rest have simply gone on to another plane. We
+shall never see them again. They are dead; no other explanation will
+hold. They are spirits.”
+
+Giving this version to the public strictly for what it is worth, the
+present writers feel it only right to submit the conclusions reached
+by Dr. Malloy and concurred in by Drs. Higgins and Hansen, also, with
+reservations, by Professor Herold and by Miss Clarke.
+
+“To a certain extent, and up to a certain point, it is possible
+to account for the astonishing case of the Blind Spot by means of
+well-known psychological principles. Hallucinations will cover a great
+deal of ground.
+
+“But we feel that our personal experiences, in witnessing the interior
+of the Thomahlia cannot be thus explained away. Our accounts tally too
+exactly; and we are not subject to group hypnosis.
+
+“To explain this we believe a new hypothesis is called for. We submit
+that what we saw was not unreal. Assuming that a thing is real or
+unreal, and can never be in a third state which is neither one nor the
+other, then we should have to insist that what we saw was REAL.
+
+“We stand ready and prepared to accept any theory which will fit all
+facts, not merely a portion.”
+
+Again refraining from any comment we pass on to the more exhaustive
+opinion of Sir Henry Hodges. Inasmuch as this seems to coincide very
+closely with the hypothesis of Professor Holcomb, and as the reputation
+of Sir Henry is a thing of weight, we are quoting him almost verbatim:
+
+“There is a well-known experiment in chemistry, wherein equal quantities
+of water and alcohol are mixed. Let us say, a pint of each. Now, the
+resulting mixture ought to be a quart; but it is not. It is somewhat
+less than a quart.
+
+“Strange, indeed, to the novice, but a commonplace to every student of
+the subject. It is strange only that, except for Dr. Holcomb and
+this man Avec, science has overlooked the stupendous significance and
+suggestion of this particular fact.
+
+“Now, consider another well-known fact: No matter how you try you cannot
+prevent gravity from acting. It will pull every object down, regardless
+of how you try to screen it from the earth.
+
+“Why? Because gravity penetrates all things. Again, why? Why should
+gravity penetrate all things?
+
+“The answer is, because gravity is a function of the ether. And the
+ether is an imponderable substance, so impalpable that it passes right
+through all solids as though they were not there.
+
+“These are two highly suggestive points. They show us, first, that two
+substances can exist within the space formerly thought to be completely
+filled by one. Second, they show that ALL substances are porous to the
+ether.
+
+“Very well. Bear in mind that we know nothing whatever directly about
+the ether; our knowledge is all indirect. Therefore--
+
+“It may be that there is more than one ether!
+
+“Conceive what this means. If there were another ether, how could we
+become aware of it? Only through the medium of some such phenomenon as
+the Blind Spot; not through ordinary channels. For the ordinary channels
+are microscopes and test-tubes, every one of which, when traced to the
+ultimate, is simply a concrete expression of THE ONE ETHER WE KNOW!
+
+“In the nature of the case our five senses could never apprehend a
+second ether.
+
+“Yet, knowing what we do about the structure of the atom, of electronic
+activity, of quantels, we must admit that there is a huge, unoccupied
+space--that is, we can't see that it is occupied--in and between the
+interstices of the atom.
+
+“It is in the region, mingled and intertwined with the electrons which
+make up the world we know so well, that--in my opinion--the Thomahlian
+world exists. It is actually coexistent with our own. It is here, and
+so are we. At this very instant, at any given spot, there can be,
+and almost certainly is, more than one solid object--two systems of
+materiality, two systems of life, two systems of death. And if two, why,
+then, perhaps there are even more!
+
+“Holcomb is right. We are Infinity. Only our five senses make us
+finite.”
+
+Charlotte Fenton does not indulge in speculation. She seems to bear up
+wonderfully well in the face of Harry Wendel's affinity for the
+Nervina, and also in the face of her brother's disappearance. And she
+philosophically states:
+
+“When Columbus returned from his search for the East Indies, he
+triumphantly announced that he had found what he sought.
+
+“He was mistaken. He had found something else--America.
+
+“It may be that we are all mistaken. It may be that something entirely
+different from what any one has suspected has been found. Time will
+tell. I am willing to wait.”
+
+To make it complete, it is felt that the following statement of General
+Hume is not only essential, but convincing to the last degree.
+
+“My view regarding this mystery is simply this: I have eyes, and I
+have seen. I don't know whether the actors were living or dead. I am
+no scientist; I have no theory. I only know. And I will swear to what I
+saw.
+
+“I am a soldier. The two men who are bringing this to press have shown
+me their copy.
+
+“It is correct.”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Blind Spot, by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Blind Spot, by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    .side      { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em;
+               border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left;
+               text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
+               font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Blind Spot, by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
+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 Blind Spot
+
+Author: Austin Hall
+        Homer Eon Flint
+
+Commentator: Forrest J Ackerman
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4920]
+[This file was first posted on March 27, 2002]
+Last Updated: March 15, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLIND SPOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Text file produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      THE BLIND SPOT
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I. &mdash; RHAMDA AVEC </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II. &mdash; THE PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III. &mdash; &ldquo;NOW THERE ARE TWO&rdquo; </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV. &mdash; GONE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> V. &mdash; FRIENDS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VI. &mdash; CHICK WATSON </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VII. &mdash; THE RING </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VIII. &mdash; THE NERVINA </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> IX. &mdash; &ldquo;NOW THERE ARE THREE&rdquo; </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> X. &mdash; MAN OR PHANTOM </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XI. &mdash; BAFFLED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XII. &mdash; A DEAL IN PROPERTY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIII. &mdash; ALBERT JEROME </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIV. &mdash; A NEW ELEMENT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XV. &mdash; AGAIN THE NERVINA </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVI. &mdash; CHARLOTTE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVII. &mdash; THE SHEPHERD </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVIII. &mdash; CHARLOTTE'S STORY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XIX. &mdash; HOBART FENTON TAKES UP THE TALE
+      </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XX. &mdash; THE HOUSE OF MIRACLES </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXI. &mdash; OUT OF THIN AIR </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXII. &mdash; THE ROUSING OF A MIND </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIII. &mdash; THE RHAMDA AGAIN </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIV. &mdash; THE LIVING DEATH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXV. &mdash; AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXVI. &mdash; DIRECT FROM PARADISE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVII. &mdash; SOLVED </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVIII. &mdash; THE MAN FROM SPACE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXIX. &mdash; THE OCCULT WORLD </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXX. &mdash; THE PLUNGE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXXI. &mdash; UP FOR BREATH </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXII. &mdash; THROUGH UNKNOWN WATERS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXIII. &mdash; A LONG WAY FROM SHORE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIV. &mdash; THE BAR SENESTRO </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXV. &mdash; THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXVI. &mdash; AN ALLY, AND SOLID GROUND </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVII. &mdash; LOOKING DOWN </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVIII. &mdash; THE VOICE FROM THE VOID </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXIX. &mdash; WHO IS THE JARADOS? </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XL. &mdash; THE TEMPLE OF THE BELL </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XLI. &mdash; THE PROPHECY </a>
+    </p>
+<p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0044b"> XLII. &mdash; PAT MACPHERSON'S STORY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLIII. &mdash; THE HOME OF THE JARADOS </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> XLIV. &mdash; DR. HOLCOMB'S STORY </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> XLV. &mdash; THE ARADNA </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> XLVI. &mdash; OUT OF THE OCCULT </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> XLVII. &mdash; THE LAST LEAF </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> XLVIII. &mdash; THE UNACCOUNTABLE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      INTRODUCTION
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      THE LURE AND LORE OF &ldquo;THE BLIND SPOT&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <h3>
+      BY FORREST J ACKERMAN
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      The Blind Spot opens with the words: &ldquo;Perhaps it were just as well to
+      start at the beginning. A mere matter of news.&rdquo; Suppose I use them in the
+      same sense:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A mere matter of news: The first instalment of this fabulous novel was
+      featured in Argosy-All-Story-Weekly for May 14, 1921. Described as a
+      &ldquo;different&rdquo; serial, it was introduced by a cover by Modest Stein. In the
+      foreground was the profile of a girl of another dimension&mdash;ethereal,
+      sensuous, the eternal feminine&mdash;the Nervina of the story. Filmy
+      crystalline earrings swept back over her bare shoulders. Dominating the
+      background was a huge flaming yellow ball, like our Sun as seen from the
+      hypothetical Vulcan&mdash;splotched with murky, mysterious globii vitonae.
+      There was an ancient quay, and emerging from the ultramarine waters about
+      it a silhouetted metropolis of spires, domes, and minarets. It was 1921,
+      and that generation thus received its first glimpse of the alien landscape
+      of The Blind Spot and the baroque beauty of an immortal woman of fantasy
+      fiction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The authors? Homer Eon Flint was already a reigning favourite with
+      post-World-War-I enthusiasts of imaginative literature, who had eagerly
+      devoured his QUEEN OF LIFE and LORD OF DEATH, his KING OF CONSERVE ISLAND
+      and THE PLANETEER. Austin Hall was well known and popular for his ALMOST
+      IMMORTAL, REBEL SOUL, and INTO THE INFINITE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came this epoch-making collaboration. When Mary Gnaedinger launched
+      Famous Fantastic Mysteries magazine she early presented THE BLIND SPOT,
+      and printed it again in that magazine's companion Fantastic Novels. These
+      reprints are now collectors' items, almost unobtainable, and otherwise the
+      story has long been out of print. Rumour says an unauthorised German
+      version of THE BLIND SPOT, has been published in book form. There is
+      another book called THE BLIND SPOT, and also a magazine story, and a major
+      movie studio was to produce a film of the same title. However, here is
+      presented the only hard-cover version of the only BLIND SPOT of
+      consequence to lovers of fantasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who wrote the story? When I first looked into the question, as a 15 year
+      old boy, Homer Eon Flint (he originally spelled his name with a &ldquo;d&rdquo;) was
+      already dead of a fall into a canyon. In 1949 his widow told me: &ldquo;I think
+      Homer's father contributed that middle name&rdquo;&mdash;the same name (with
+      slightly different spelling) that the Irish poet George Russell took as
+      his pen-name, which became known by its abbreviation AE. Mrs. Flindt said
+      of Flint's father: &ldquo;He was a very deep thinker, and enjoyed reading heavy
+      material.&rdquo; Like father, like son. &ldquo;Homer always talked over his ideas with
+      me, and although I couldn't always follow his thoughts it seemed to help
+      him to express them to another&mdash;it made some things come more clearly
+      to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Flint was a great admirer of H. G. Wells (this little
+      grandmother-schoolteacher told me) and had probably read all his works up
+      to the time when he (Flint) died in 1924. He had read Doyle and Haggard,
+      but: &ldquo;Wells was his favourite&mdash;the real thinker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Flint found a fellow-thinker in Austin Hall, whom he met in San Jose,
+      California, while working at a shop where shoes were repaired electrically&mdash;&ldquo;a
+      rather new concept at the time.&rdquo; Hall, learning that Flint lived in the
+      same city, sought him out, and they became fast friends. Each stimulated
+      the other. As Hall told me twenty years ago of the origin of THE BLIND
+      SPOT:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One day after we had lunched together, I held my finger up in front of
+      one of my eyes and said: 'Homer, couldn't a story be written about that
+      blind spot in the eye?' Not much was said about it at the time, but four
+      days later, again at lunch, I outlined the whole story to him. I wrote the
+      first eighteen chapters; Homer took up the tale as 'Hobart Fenton' and
+      wrote the chapters about the house of miracles, the living death, the
+      rousing of Aradna's mind, and so forth, up to 'The Man from Space,' where
+      once again I took over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To THE BLIND SPOT Hall contributed a great knowledge of history and
+      anthropology, while Flint's fortes were physics and medicine. Both had a
+      great fund of philosophy at their command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I met Hall (about four years older than Flint) he was in his fifties:
+      a devil-may-care old codger (old to a fifteen-year-old, that is) full of
+      good humour and indulgence for a youthful admirer who had journeyed far to
+      meet him. He casually referred to his 600 published stories, and I carried
+      away the impression of one who resembled both in output and in looks that
+      other fiction-factory of the time, Edgar Wallace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally: Several years ago, before I knew anything about the present
+      volume, I had an unusual experience. (At that time I had no reason to
+      think THE BLIND SPOT would ever become available as a book, for the
+      location of the heirs proved a Herculean task by itself; publishers had
+      long wanted to present this amazing novel but could not do so until I
+      located Mrs. Mae Hall and Mrs. Mabel Flindt.) While, unfortunately, I did
+      not take careful notes at the time, the gist of the occurrence was this:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I visited a friend whose hobby (besides reading fantasy) was the occult,
+      who volunteered to entertain me with automatic writing and the
+      ouija-board. Now, I share Lovecraft's scepticism towards the supernatural,
+      regarding it as at best a means of amusement. When the question arose of
+      what spirits we should try to lure to our planchette, the names of
+      Lovecraft, Merritt, Hall, and Flint popped into my pixilated mind. So I
+      set my fingers on the wooden heart and, since my host was also a Flint
+      admirer, we asked about Flint's fatal accident. The ouija spelled out:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      N-O A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T&mdash;R-O-B-B-E-R-Y
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      There followed something about being held up by a hitch-hiker. Then Hall
+      (or at least some energy-source other than my own conscious mind) came
+      through too, and when I asked if he had left any work behind he replied:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      Y-E-S&mdash;T-H-E L-A-S-T G-O-D-L-I-N-G
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Later I asked his son about this (without revealing the title) and Javen
+      Hall told me of the story his father had been plotting when he died: THE
+      HIDDEN EMPIRE, or THE CHILD OF THE SOUTHWIND. Whatever was pushing the
+      planchette failed to inform me that when I found Austin Hall's son and
+      widow, they would put into my hands an unknown, unpublished fantasy novel
+      by Hall: THE HOUSE OF DAWN! Some day it may appear in print.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile you are getting understandably impatient to explore that unknown
+      realm of the Blind Spot. Be on your way, and bon voyage!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      FORREST J ACKERMAN, Beverley Hills, Calif.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PROLOGUE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it were just as well to start at the beginning. A mere matter of
+      news.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the world at the time knew the story; but for the benefit of those who
+      have forgotten I shall repeat it. I am merely giving it as I have taken it
+      from the papers with no elaboration and no opinion&mdash;a mere statement
+      of facts. It was a celebrated case at the time and stirred the world to
+      wonder. Indeed, it still is celebrated, though to the layman it is
+      forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been labelled and indexed and filed away in the archives of the
+      profession. To those who wish to look it up it will be spoken of as one of
+      the great unsolved mysteries of the century. A crime that leads two ways,
+      one into murder&mdash;sordid, cold and calculating; and the other into the
+      nebulous screen that thwarts us from the occult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it is the character of Dr. Holcomb that gives the latter. He was a
+      great man and a splendid thinker. That he should have been led into a maze
+      of cheap necromancy is, on the face, improbable. He had a wonderful mind.
+      For years he had been battering down the scepticism that had bulwarked
+      itself in the material.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a psychologist, and up to the day the greatest, perhaps, that we
+      have known. He had a way of going out before his fellows&mdash;it is the
+      way of genius&mdash;and he had gone far, indeed, before them. If we would
+      trust Dr. Holcomb we have much to live for; our religion is not all
+      hearsay and there is a great deal in science still unthought of. It is an
+      unfortunate case; but there is much to be learned in the circumstance that
+      led the great doctor into the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I. &mdash; RHAMDA AVEC
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      On a certain foggy morning in September, 1905, a tall man wearing a black
+      overcoat and bearing in one hand a small satchel of dark-reddish leather
+      descended from a Geary Street tram at the foot of Market Street, San
+      Francisco. It was a damp morning; a mist was brooding over the city
+      blurring all distinctness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man glanced about him; a tall man of trim lines and distinctness and a
+      quick, decided step and bearing. In the shuffle of descending passengers
+      he was outstanding, with a certain inborn grace that without the blood
+      will never come from training. Men noticed and women out of instinct cast
+      curious furtive glances and then turned away; which was natural, inasmuch
+      as the man was plainly old. But for all that many ventured a second glance&mdash;and
+      wondered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An old man with the poise of twenty, a strange face of remarkable
+      features, swarthy, of an Eastern cast, perhaps Indian; whatever the
+      certainty of the man's age there was still a lingering suggestion of
+      splendid youth. If one persisted in a third or fourth look this suggestion
+      took an almost certain tone, the man's age dwindled, years dropped from
+      him, and the quizzical smile that played on the lips seemed a foreboding
+      of boyish laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We say foreboding because in this case it is not mistaken diction.
+      Foreboding suggests coming evil; the laughter of boys is wholehearted. It
+      was merely that things were not exactly as they should be; it was not
+      natural that age should be so youthful. The fates were playing, and in
+      this case for once in the world's history their play was crosswise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is a remarkable case from the beginning and we are starting from facts.
+      The man crossed to the window of the Key Route ferry and purchased a
+      ticket for Berkeley, after which, with the throng, he passed the turnstile
+      and on to the boat that was waiting. He took the lower deck, not from
+      choice, apparently, but more because the majority of his fellow
+      passengers, being men, were bound in this direction. The same chance
+      brought him to the cigar-stand. The men about him purchased cigars and
+      cigarettes, and as is the habit of all smokers, strolled off with
+      delighted relish. The man watched them. Had anyone noticed his eyes he
+      would have noted a peculiar colour and a light of surprise. With the prim
+      step that made him so distinctive he advanced to the news-stand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me; but I would like to purchase one of those.&rdquo; Though he spoke
+      perfect English it was in a strange manner, after the fashion of one who
+      has found something that he has just learned how to use. At the same time
+      he made a suggestion with his tapered fingers indicating the tobacco in
+      the case. The clerk looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What will it be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A cigar?&rdquo; Again the strange articulation. &ldquo;Ah, yes, that is it. Now I
+      remember. And it has a little sister, the cigarette. I think I shall take
+      a cigarette, if&mdash;if&mdash;if you will show me how to use it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strange request. The clerk was accustomed to all manner of men
+      and their brands of humour; he was about to answer in kind when he looked
+      up and into the man's eyes. He started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;that you have never seen a cigar or cigarette; that
+      you do not know how to use them? A man as old as you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger laughed. It was rather resentful, but for all that of a
+      hearty taint of humour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So old? Would you say that I am as old as that; if you will look again&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man did and what he beheld is something that he could not quite
+      account for: the strange conviction of this remarkable man; of age melting
+      into youth, of an uncertain freshness, the smile, not of sixty, but of
+      twenty. The young man was not one to argue, whatever his wonder; he was
+      first of all a lad of business; he could merely acquiesce.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The first time! This is the first time you have ever seen a cigar or
+      cigarette?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The first time. I have never beheld one of them before this morning. If
+      you will allow me?&rdquo; He indicated a package. &ldquo;I think I shall take one of
+      these.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clerk took up the package, opened the end, and shook out a single
+      cigarette. The man lit it and, as the smoke poured out of his mouth, held
+      the cigarette tentatively in his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like it?&rdquo; It was the clerk who asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other did not answer, his whole face was the expression of having just
+      discovered one of the senses. He was a splendid man and, if the word may
+      be employed of the sterner sex, one of beauty. His features were even;
+      that is to be noted, his nose chiselled straight and to perfection, the
+      eyes of a peculiar sombreness and lustre almost burning, of a black of
+      such intensity as to verge into red and to be devoid of pupils, and yet,
+      for all of that, of a glow and softness. After a moment he turned to the
+      clerk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are young, my lad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty-one, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are fortunate. You live in a wonderful age. It is as wonderful as
+      your tobacco. And you still have many great things before you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man walked on to the forward part of the boat; leaving the youth, who
+      had been in a sort of daze, watching. But it was not for long. The whole
+      thing had been strange and to the lad almost inexplicable. The man was not
+      insane, he was certain; and he was just as sure that he had not been
+      joking. From the start he had been taken by the man's refinement,
+      intellect and education. He was positive that he had been sincere. Yet&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ferry detective happened at that moment to be passing. The clerk made
+      an indication with his thumb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That man yonder,&rdquo; he spoke, &ldquo;the one in black. Watch him.&rdquo; Then he told
+      his story. The detective laughed and walked forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a most fortunate incident. It was a strange case. That mere act of
+      the cigar clerk placed the police on the track and gave to the world the
+      only clue that it holds of the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The detective had laughed at the lad's recital&mdash;almost any one had a
+      patent for being queer&mdash;and if this gentleman had a whim for a
+      certain brand of humour that was his business. Nevertheless, he would
+      stroll forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man was not hard to distinguish; he was standing on the forward deck
+      facing the wind and peering through the mist at the grey, heavy heave of
+      the water. Alongside of them the dim shadow of a sister ferry screamed its
+      way through the fogbank. That he was a landsman was evidenced by his way
+      of standing; he was uncertain; at every heave of the boat he would shift
+      sidewise. An unusually heavy roll caught him slightly off-balance and
+      jostled him against the detective. The latter held up his hand and caught
+      him by the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bad morning,&rdquo; spoke the officer. &ldquo;B-r-r-r! Did you notice the Yerbe
+      Buena yonder? She just grazed us. A bad morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger turned. As the detective caught the splendid face, the
+      glowing eyes and the youthful smile, he started much as had done the cigar
+      clerk. The same effect of the age melting into youth and&mdash;the officer
+      being much more accustomed to reading men&mdash;a queer sense of latent
+      and potent vision. The eyes were soft and receptive but for all that of
+      the delicate strength and colour that comes from abnormal intellect. He
+      noted the pupils, black, glowing, of great size, almost filling the iris
+      and the whole melting into intensity that verged into red. Either the man
+      had been long without sleep or he was one of unusual intelligence and
+      vitality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A nasty morning,&rdquo; repeated the officer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! Er, yes&mdash;did you say it was a nasty morning? Indeed, I do not
+      know, sir. However, it is very interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stranger in San Francisco?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes. At least, I have never seen it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H-m!&rdquo; The detective was a bit nonplussed by the man's evident evasion.
+      &ldquo;Well, if you are a stranger I suppose it is up to me to come to the
+      defence of my city. This is one of Frisco's fogs. We have them
+      occasionally. Sometimes they last for days. This one is a low one. It will
+      lift presently. Then you will see the sun. Have you ever seen Frisco's
+      sun?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear sir&rdquo;&mdash;this same slow articulation&mdash;&ldquo;I have never seen
+      your sun nor any other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hum!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an answer altogether unexpected. Again the officer found himself
+      gazing into the strange, refined face and wonderful eyes. The man was not
+      blind, of that he was certain. Neither was his voice harsh or testy.
+      Rather was it soft and polite, of one merely stating a fact. Yet how could
+      it be? He remembered the cigar clerk. Neither cigar nor sun! From what
+      manner of land could the man come? A detective has a certain gift of
+      intuition. Though on the face of it, outside of the man's personality,
+      there could be nothing to it but a joke, he chose to act upon the impulse.
+      He pulled back the door which had been closed behind them and re-entered
+      the boat. When he returned the boat had arrived at the pier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going to Oakland?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a chance question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, to Berkeley. I take a train here, I understand. Do all the trains go
+      to Berkeley?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means. I am going to Berkeley myself. We can ride together. My name
+      is Jerome. Albert Jerome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks. Mine is Avec. Rhamda Avec. I am much obliged. Your company may be
+      instructive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not say more, but watched with unrestrained interest their
+      manoeuvre into the slip. A moment later they were marching with the others
+      down the gangways to the trains waiting. Just as they were seated and the
+      electric train was pulling out of the pier the sun breaking through the
+      mist blazed with splendid light through the cloud rifts. The stranger was
+      next to the window where he could look out over the water and beyond at
+      the citied shoreline, whose sea of housetops extended and rose to the
+      peaks of the first foothills. The sun was just coming over the mountains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The detective watched. There was sincerity in the man's actions. It was
+      not acting. When the light first broke he turned his eyes full into the
+      radiance. It was the act of a child and, so it struck the officer, of the
+      same trust and simplicity&mdash;and likewise the same effect. He drew away
+      quickly: for the moment blinded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It is so. This is the sun. Your sun is wonderful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed it is,&rdquo; returned the other. &ldquo;But rather common. We see it every
+      day. It's the whole works, but we get used to it. For myself I cannot see
+      anything strange in the 'sun's still shining.' You have been blind, Mr.
+      Avec? Pardon the question. But I must naturally infer. You say you have
+      never seen the sun. I suppose&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped because of the other's smile; somehow it seemed a very superior
+      one, as if predicting a wealth of wisdom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Mr. Jerome,&rdquo; he spoke, &ldquo;I have never been blind in my life. I say
+      it is wonderful! It is glorious and past describing. So is it all, your
+      water, your boats, your ocean. But I see there is one thing even stranger
+      still. It is yourselves. With all your greatness you are only part of your
+      surroundings. Do you know what is your sun?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Search me,&rdquo; returned the officer. &ldquo;I'm no astronomer. I understand they
+      don't know themselves. Fire, I suppose, and a hell of a hot one! But there
+      is one thing that I can tell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If he meant it for insinuation it was ineffective. The other smiled
+      kindly. In the fine effect of the delicate features, and most of all in
+      the eyes was sincerity. In that face was the mark of genius&mdash;he felt
+      it&mdash;and of a potent superior intelligence. Most of all did he note
+      the beauty and the soft, silky superlustre of the eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We have the whole thing from Jerome, at least this part of it; and our
+      interest being retrospect is multiplied far above that of the detective.
+      The stranger had a certain call of character and of appearance, not to say
+      magnetism. The officer felt himself almost believing and yet restraining
+      himself into caution of unbelief. It was a remark preposterous on the face
+      of it. What puzzled Jerome was the purpose; he could think of nothing that
+      would necessitate such statements and acting. He was certain that the man
+      was sane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the light of what came after great stress has been laid by a certain
+      class upon this incident. We may say that we lean neither way. We have
+      merely given it in some detail because of that importance. We have yet no
+      proof of the mystic and until it is proved, we must lean, like Jerome,
+      upon the cold material. We have the mystery, but, even at that, we have
+      not the certainty of murder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Understand, it was intuition that led Jerome into that memorable trip to
+      Berkeley; he happened to be going off duty and was drawn to the man by a
+      chance incident and the fact of his personality. At this minute, however,
+      he thought no more of him than as an eccentric, as some refined, strange
+      wonderful gentleman with a whim for his own brand of humour. Only that
+      could explain it. The man had an evident curiosity for everything about
+      him, the buildings, the street, the cars, and the people. Frequently he
+      would mutter: &ldquo;Wonderful, wonderful, and all the time we have never known
+      it. Wonderful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As they drew into Lorin the officer ventured a question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have friends in Berkeley? I see you are a stranger. If I may presume,
+      perhaps I may be of assistance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes, if&mdash;if&mdash;do you know of a Dr. Holcomb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean the professor. He lives on Dwight Way. At this time of the day
+      you would be more apt to find him at the university. Is he expecting you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a blunt question and of course none of his business. Yet, just what
+      another does not want him to know is ever the pursuit of a detective. At
+      the same time the subconscious flashing and wondering at the name Rhamda
+      Avec&mdash;surely neither Teutonic nor Sanskrit nor anything between.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Expecting me? Ah, yes. Pardon me if I speak slowly. I am not quite used
+      to speech&mdash;yet. I see you are interested. After I see Dr. Holcomb I
+      may tell you. However, it is very urgent that I see the doctor. He&mdash;well,
+      I may say that we have known each other a long time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you know him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, in a way; though we have never met. He must be a great man. We have
+      much in common, your doctor and I; and we have a great deal to give to
+      your world. However, I would not recognise him should I see him. Would you
+      by any chance&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean would I be your guide? With pleasure. It just happens that I am
+      on friendly terms with your friend Dr. Holcomb.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II. &mdash; THE PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      And now to start in on another angle. There is hardly any necessity for
+      introducing Dr. Holcomb. All of us, at least, those who read, and, most of
+      all, those of us who are interested in any manner of speculation, knew him
+      quite well. He was the professor of philosophy at the University of
+      California: a great man and a good one, one of those fine academic souls
+      who, not only by their wisdom, but by their character, have a way of
+      stamping themselves upon generations; a speaker of the upstanding class,
+      walking on his own feet and utterly fearless when it came to dashing out
+      on some startling philosophy that had not been borne up by his forebears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was original. He believed that the philosophies of the ages are but
+      stepping stones, that the wisdom of the earth looked but to the future,
+      and that the study of the classics, however essential, is but the ground
+      work for combining and working out the problems of the future. He was
+      epigrammatic, terse, and gifted with a quaint humour, with which he was
+      apt, even when in the driest philosophy, to drive in and clinch his
+      argument.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Best of all, he was able to clothe the most abstract thoughts in language
+      so simple and concrete that he brought the deepest of all subjects down to
+      the scope of the commonest thinker. It is needless to say that he was
+      'copy.' The papers about the bay were ever and anon running some startling
+      story of the professor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had they stuck to the text it would all have been well; but a reporter is
+      a reporter; in spite of the editors there were numerous little
+      elaborations to pervert the context. A great man must be careful of his
+      speech. Dr. Holcomb was often busy refuting; he could not understand the
+      need of these little twistings of wisdom. It kept him in controversy; the
+      brothers of his profession often took him to task for these little
+      distorted scraps of philosophy. He did not like journalism. He had a way
+      of consigning all writers and editors to the devil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Which was vastly amusing to the reporters. Once they had him going they
+      poised their pens in glee and began splashing their venomous ink. It was
+      tragic; the great professor standing at bay to his tormentors. One and all
+      they loved him and one and all they took delight in his torture. It was a
+      hard task for a reporter to get in at a lecture; and yet it was often the
+      lot of the professor to find himself and his words featured in his
+      breakfast paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the very day before this the doctor had come out with one of his terse
+      startling statements. He had a way of inserting parenthetically some of
+      his scraps of wisdom. It was in an Ethics class. We quote his words as
+      near as possible:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, let me tell you, is egotistic. All our philosophy is based on ego.
+      We live threescore years and we balance it with all eternity. We are it.
+      Did you ever stop and think of eternity? It is a rather long time. What
+      right have we to say that life, which we assume to be everlasting,
+      immediately becomes restrospect once it passes out of the conscious
+      individuality which is allotted upon this earth? The trouble is ourselves.
+      We are five-sensed. We weigh everything! We so measure eternity. Until we
+      step out into other senses, which undoubtedly exist, we shall never arrive
+      at the conception of infinity. Now I am going to make a rather startling
+      announcement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The past few years have promised a culmination which has been guessed at
+      and yearned for since the beginning of time. It is within, and still
+      without, the scope of metaphysics. Those of you who have attended my
+      lectures have heard me call myself the material idealist. I am a mystic
+      sensationalist. I believe that we can derive nothing from pure
+      contemplation. There is mystery and wonder in the veil of the occult. The
+      earth, our life, is merely a vestibule of the universe. Contemplation
+      alone will hold us all as inapt and as impotent as the old Monks of Athos.
+      We have mountains of literature behind us, all contemplative, and whatever
+      its wisdom, it has given us not one thing outside the abstract. From Plato
+      down to the present our philosophy has given us not one tangible proof,
+      not one concrete fact which we can place our hands on. We are virtually
+      where we were originally; and we can talk, talk, talk from now until the
+      clap of doomsday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What then?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friends, philosophy must take a step sidewise. In this modern age
+      young science, practical science, has grown up and far surpassed us. We
+      must go back to the beginning, forget our subjective musings and enter the
+      concrete. We are five-sensed, and in the nature of things we must bring
+      the proof down into the concrete where we can understand it. Can we pierce
+      the nebulous screen that shuts us out of the occult? We have doubted,
+      laughed at ourselves and been laughed at; but the fact remains that always
+      we have persisted in the believing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have said that we shall never, never understand infinity while within
+      the limitations of our five senses. I repeat it. But that does not imply
+      that we shall never solve some of the mystery of life. The occult is not
+      only a supposition, but a fact. We have peopled it with terror, because,
+      like our forebears before Columbus, we have peopled it with imagination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now to my statement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have called myself the Material Idealist. I have adopted an entirely
+      new trend of philosophy. During the past years, unknown to you and unknown
+      to my friends, I have allied myself with practical science. I desired
+      something concrete. While my colleagues and others were pounding out tomes
+      of wonderful sophistry I have been pounding away at the screen of the
+      occult. This is a proud moment. I have succeeded. Tomorrow I shall bring
+      to you the fact and the substance. I have lifted up the curtain and
+      flooded it with the light of day. You shall have the fact for your senses.
+      Tomorrow I shall explain it all. I shall deliver my greatest lecture; in
+      which my whole Me has come to a focus. It is not spiritualism nor
+      sophistry. It is concrete fact and common sense. The subject of my lecture
+      tomorrow will be: 'The Blind Spot.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here begins the second part of the mystery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We know now that the great lecture was never delivered. Immediately the
+      news was scattered out of the class-room. It became common property. It
+      was spread over the country and was featured in all the great metropolitan
+      dailies. In the lecture-room next morning seats were at a premium;
+      students, professors, instructors and all the prominent people who could
+      gain admission crowded into the hall; even the irrepressible reporters had
+      stolen in to take down the greatest scoop of the century. The place was
+      jammed until even standing room was unthought of. The crowd, dense and
+      packed and physically uncomfortable, waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The minutes dragged by. It was a long, long wait. But at last the bell
+      rang that ticked the hour. Every one was expectant. And then fifteen
+      minutes passed by, twenty&mdash;the crowd settled down to waiting. At
+      length one of the colleagues stepped into the doctor's office and
+      telephoned to his home. His daughter answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father? Why he left over two hours ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About what time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, it was about seven-thirty. You know he was to deliver his lecture
+      today on the Blind Spot. I wanted to hear it, but he told me I could have
+      it at home. He said he was to have a wonderful guest and I must make ready
+      to receive him. Isn't father there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet. Who was this guest? Did he say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh yes! In a way. A most wonderful man. And he gave him a wonderful name,
+      Rhamda Avec. I remember because it is so funny. I asked father if he was
+      Sanskrit; and he said he was much older than that. Just imagine!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your father have his lecture with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. He glanced over it at breakfast. He told me he was going to
+      startle the world as it had never been since the day of Columbus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And he was terribly impatient. He said he had to be at the college
+      before eight to receive the great man. He was to deliver his lecture at
+      ten. And afterward he would have lunch at noon and he would give me the
+      whole story. I'm all impatience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he came back and made the announcement that there was a little delay;
+      but that Dr. Holcomb would be there shortly. But he was not. At twelve
+      o'clock there were still some people waiting. At one o'clock the last man
+      had slipped out of the room&mdash;and wondered. In all the country there
+      was but one person who knew. That one was an obscure man who had yielded
+      to a detective's intuition and had fallen inadvertently upon one of the
+      greatest mysteries of modern times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III. &mdash; &ldquo;NOW THERE ARE TWO&rdquo;
+     </h2>
+    <p>
+      The rest of the story is unfortunately all too easily told. We go back to
+      Jerome and his strange companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At Centre Street station they alighted and walked up to the university.
+      Under the Le Conte oaks they met the professor. He was trim and happy, his
+      short, well-built figure clothed in black, his snow-white whiskers trimmed
+      to the usual square crop and his pink skin glowing with splendid health.
+      The fog had by this time lifted and the sun was just beginning to overcome
+      the chilliness of the air. There was no necessity for an introduction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men apparently recognised each other at once. So we have it from
+      the detective. There was sincerity in the delight of their hand-clasp. A
+      strange pair, both of them with the distinction and poise that come from
+      refinement and intellectual training; though in physique they were almost
+      opposite, there was still a strange, almost mutual, bond between them. Dr.
+      Holcomb was beaming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last!&rdquo; he greeted. &ldquo;At last! I was sure we could not fail. This, my
+      dear Dr. Avec, is the greatest day since Columbus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other took the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So this is the great Dr. Holcomb. Yes, indeed, it is a great day; though
+      I know nothing about your Columbus. So far it has been simply wonderful. I
+      can scarcely credit my senses. So near and yet so far. How can it be? A
+      dream? Are you sure, Dr. Holcomb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Rhamda, I am sure that I am the happiest man that ever lived. It
+      is the culmination. I was certain we could not fail; though, of course, to
+      me also it is an almost impossible climax of fact. I should never have
+      succeeded without your assistance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was of small account, my dear doctor. To yourself must go the
+      credit; to me the pleasure. Take your sun, for instance, I&mdash;but I
+      have not the language to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the doctor had gone in to abstraction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A great day,&rdquo; he was beaming. &ldquo;A great day! What will the world say? It
+      is proved.&rdquo; Then suddenly: &ldquo;You have eaten?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet. You must allow me a bit of time. I thought of it; but I had not
+      quite the courage to venture.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we shall eat,&rdquo; said the other man. &ldquo;Afterward we shall go up to the
+      lecture-room. Today I shall deliver my lecture on the Blind Spot. And when
+      I am through you shall deliver the words that will astonish the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But here it seems there was a hitch. The other shook his head kindly. It
+      was evident that while the doctor was the leader, the other was a
+      co-worker who must be considered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid, professor, that you have promised a bit too much. I am not
+      entirely free yet, you know. Two hours is the most that I can give you;
+      and not entirely that. There are some details that may not be neglected.
+      It is a far venture and now that we have succeeded this far there is
+      surely no reason why we cannot go on. However, it is necessary that I
+      return to the house on Chatterton Place. I have but slightly over an hour
+      left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor was plainly disappointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the lecture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It means my life, professor, and the subsequent success of our
+      experiment. A few details, a few minutes. Perhaps if we hurry we can get
+      back in time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor glanced at his watch. &ldquo;Twenty minutes for the train, twenty
+      minutes for the boat, ten minutes; that's an hour, two hours. These
+      details? Have you any idea how long, Rhamda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not more than fifteen minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have still two hours. Fifteen minutes; perhaps a little bit late. Tell
+      you what. I shall go with you. You can get on the boat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We have said that the detective had intuition. He had it still. Yet he had
+      no rational reason for suspecting either the professor or his strange
+      companion. Furthermore he had never heard of the Blind Spot in any way
+      whatsoever; nor did he know a single thing of philosophy or anything else
+      in Holcomb's teaching. He knew the doctor as a man of eminent standing and
+      respectability. It was hardly natural that he should suspect anything
+      sinister to grow out of this meeting of two refined scholars. He attached
+      no great importance to the trend of their conversation. It was strange, to
+      be sure; but he felt, no doubt, that living in their own world they had a
+      way and a language of their own. He was no scholar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still, he could think. The man Rhamda had made an assertion that he could
+      not quite uncover. It puzzled him. Something told him that for the safety
+      of his old friend it might be well for him to shadow the strange pair to
+      the city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the next train pulled out for the pier the two scholars were seated
+      in the forward part of the car. In the last seat was a man deeply immersed
+      in a morning paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is rather unfortunate. In the natural delicacy of the situation Jerome
+      could not crowd too closely. He had no certainty of trouble; no proof
+      whatever; he was known to the professor. The best he could do was to keep
+      aloof and follow their movements. At the ferry building they hailed a taxi
+      and started up Market Street. Jerome watched them. In another moment he
+      had another driver and was winding behind in their wheel tracks. The cab
+      made straight for Chatterton Place. In front of a substantial two-story
+      house it drew up. The two men alighted. Jerome's taxi passed them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were then at the head of the steps; a woman of slender beauty with a
+      wonderful loose fold of black hair was talking. It seemed to the detective
+      that her voice was fearful, of a pregnant warning, that she was
+      protesting. Nevertheless, the old men entered and the door slammed behind
+      them. Jerome slipped from the taxi and spoke a few words to the driver. A
+      moment later the two men were holding the house under surveillance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They did not have long to wait. The man called Rhamda had asked for
+      fifteen minutes. At the stroke of the second the front door re-opened.
+      Someone was laughing; a melodious enchanting laugh and feminine. A woman
+      was speaking. And then there were two forms in the doorway. A man and a
+      woman. The man was Rhamda Avec, tall, immaculate, black clad and
+      distinguished. The woman, Jerome was not certain that she was the same who
+      opened the door or not; she was even more beautiful. She was laughing.
+      Like her companion she was clad in black, a beautiful shimmering material
+      which sparkled in the sun like the rarest silk. The man glanced carelessly
+      up and down the street for a moment. Then he assisted the lady down the
+      steps and into the taxi. The door slammed; and before the detective could
+      gather his scattered wits they were lost in the city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome was expecting the professor. Naturally when the door opened he
+      looked for the old gentleman and his companion. It was the doctor he was
+      watching, not the other. Though he had no rational reason for expecting
+      trouble he had still his hunch and his intuition. The man and woman
+      aroused suspicion; and likewise upset his calculation. He could not follow
+      them and stay with the professor. It was a moment for quick decision. He
+      wondered. Where was Dr. Holcomb? This was the day he was to deliver his
+      lecture on the Blind Spot. He had read the announcement in the paper on
+      the way back, together with certain comments by the editor. In the lecture
+      itself there was mystery. This strange one, Rhamda, was mixed in the Blind
+      Spot. Undoubtedly he was the essential fact and substance. Until now he
+      had not scented tragedy. Why had Rhamda and the woman come out together?
+      Where was the professor?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Where indeed?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of a half-hour Jerome ventured across the street. He noted the
+      number 288. Then he ascended the steps and clanged at the knocker. From
+      the sounds that came from inside, the place was but partly furnished.
+      Hollow steps sounded down the hallway, shuffling, like weary bones
+      dragging slippers. The door opened and an old woman, very old, peered out
+      of the crack. She coughed. Though it was not a loud cough it seemed to the
+      detective that it would be her last one; there was so little of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, but is Dr. Holcomb here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady looked up at him. The eyes were of blank expressionless blue;
+      she was in her dotage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean&mdash;oh, yes, I think so, the old man with the white whiskers.
+      He was here a few minutes ago, with that other. But he just went out, sir,
+      he just went out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't think so. There was a man went out and a woman. But not Dr.
+      Holcomb.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A woman? There was no woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, there was a woman&mdash;a very beautiful one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady dropped her hand. It was trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear,&rdquo; she was saying. &ldquo;This makes two. This morning it was a man and
+      now it is a woman, that makes two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to the man as he looked down in her eyes that he was looking
+      into great fear; she was so slight and frail and helpless and so old; such
+      a fragile thing to bear burden and trouble. Her voice was cracked and just
+      above a shrill whisper, almost uncanny. She kept repeating:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there are two. Now there are two. That makes two. This morning there
+      was one. Now there are two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome could not understand. He pitied the old lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you say that Dr. Holcomb is here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again she looked up: the same blank expression, she was evidently trying
+      to gather her wits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two. A woman. Dr. Holcomb. Oh, yes, Dr. Holcomb. Won't you come in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome entered and took off his hat. Judicially he repeated the doctor's
+      name to keep it in her mind. She closed the door carefully and touched his
+      arm. It seemed to him that she was terribly weak and tottering; her old
+      eyes, however expressionless, were full of pitiful pleading. She was
+      scarcely more than a shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are his son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome lied; but he did it for a reason. &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took him by the sleeve and led him to a room, then across it to a door
+      in the side wall. Her step was slow and feeble; twice she stopped to sing
+      the dirge of her wonder. &ldquo;First a man and then a woman. Now there is one.
+      You are his son.&rdquo; And twice she stopped and listened. &ldquo;Do you hear
+      anything? A bell? I love to hear it: and then afterward I am afraid. Did
+      you ever notice a bell? It always makes you think of church and the things
+      that are holy. This is a beautiful bell&mdash;first&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Either the woman was without her reason or very nearly so: she was very
+      frail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, mother, I know, first a bell, but Dr. Holcomb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The name brought her back again. For a moment she was blank trying to
+      recall her senses. And then she remembered. She pointed to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In there&mdash;Dr. Holcomb. That's where they come. That's where they go.
+      Dr. Holcomb. The little old man with the beautiful whiskers. This morning
+      it was a man; now it is a woman. Now there are two. Oh, dear; perhaps we
+      shall hear the bell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome began to scent a tragedy. Certainly the old lady was uncanny; the
+      house was bare and hollow; the scant furniture was threadbare with age and
+      mildew; each sound was exaggerated and fearful, even their breathing. He
+      placed his hand on the knob and opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there are two. Now there are two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was empty. Not a bit of furniture; a blank, bare apartment with
+      an old-fashioned high ceiling. Nothing else. Whatever the weirdness and
+      adventure, Jerome was getting nowhere. The old lady was still clinging to
+      his arm and still droning:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there are two. Now there are two. This morning a man; now a woman.
+      Now there are two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, mother, come. This will not do. Perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But just then the old lady's lean fingers clinched into his arm; her eyes
+      grew bright; her mouth opened and she stopped in the middle of her drone.
+      Jerome grew rigid. And no wonder. From the middle of the room not ten feet
+      away came the tone of a bell, a great silvery voluminous sound&mdash;and
+      music. A church bell. Just one stroke, full toned, filling all the air
+      till the whole room was choked with music. Then as suddenly it died out
+      and faded into nothing. At the same time he felt the fingers on his arm
+      relax; and a heap was at his feet. He reached over. The life and
+      intelligence that was so near the line was just crossing over the border.
+      The poor old lady! Here was a tragedy he could not understand. He stooped
+      over to assist her. He was trembling. As he did so he heard the drone of
+      her soul as it wafted to the shadow:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there are two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV. &mdash; GONE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Jerome was a strong man, of iron nerve, and well set against emotion; in
+      the run of his experience he had been plumped into many startling
+      situations; but none like this. The croon of the old lady thrummed in his
+      ears with endless repetition. He picked her up tenderly and bore her to
+      another room and placed her on a ragged sofa. There were still marks on
+      her face of former beauty. He wondered who she was and what had been her
+      life to come to such an ending.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now there are two,&rdquo; the words were withering with oppression.
+      Subconsciously he felt the load that crushed her spirit. It was as if the
+      burden had been shifted; he sensed the weight of an unaccountable
+      disaster.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The place was musty and ill-lighted. He looked about him, the dank, close
+      air was unwashed by daylight. A stray ray of sunshine filtering through
+      the broken shutter slanted across the room and sought vainly to dispel the
+      shadow. He thought of Dr. Holcomb and the old lady. &ldquo;Now there are two.&rdquo;
+       Was it a double tragedy? First of all he must investigate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The place was of eleven rooms, six downstairs and five on the upper story.
+      With the exception of one broken chair there was no furniture upstairs;
+      four of the rooms on the lower floor were partly furnished, two not at
+      all. A rear room had evidently been to the old lady the whole of her
+      habitation, serving as a kitchen, bedroom, and living-room combined.
+      Except in this room there were no carpets what-ever. His steps sounded
+      hollow and ghostly; the boards creaked and each time he opened a door he
+      was oppressed by the same gloom of dankness and stagnation. There was no
+      trace of Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remembered the bell and sought vainly on both floors for anything that
+      would give him a clue to the sound. There was nothing. The only thing he
+      heard was the echoing of his own creaking footsteps and the unceasing tune
+      that dinned in his spirit, &ldquo;Now there are two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last he came to the door and looked out into the street. The sun was
+      shining and the life and pulse was rising from the city. It was daylight;
+      plain, healthy day. It was good to look at. On the threshold of the door
+      he felt himself standing on the border of two worlds. What had become of
+      the doctor and who was the old lady; and lastly and just as important, who
+      was the Rhamda and his beautiful companion?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome telephoned to headquarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strange case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the precise minute when his would-be auditors were beginning to fidget
+      over his absence, the police of San Francisco had started the search for
+      the great doctor. Jerome had followed his intuition. It had led him into a
+      tragedy and he was ready to swear almost on his soul that it was twofold.
+      The prominence of the professor, together with his startling announcement
+      of the day previous and the world-wide comment that it had aroused,
+      elevated the case to a national interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was the Blind Spot? The world conjectured, and like the world has
+      been since beginning, it scoffed and derided. Some there were, however,
+      men well up in the latest discoveries of science, who did not laugh. They
+      counselled forbearance; they would wait for the doctor and his lecture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no lecture. In the teeth of our expectation came the startling
+      word that the doctor had disappeared. Apparently when on the very verge of
+      announcing his discovery he had been swallowed by the very force that he
+      had loosened. There was nothing in known science outside of optics, that
+      could in any way be blended with the Blind Spot. There were but two
+      solutions; either the professor had been a victim of a clever rogue, or he
+      had been overcome by the rashness of his own wisdom. At any rate, it was
+      known from that minute on as &ldquo;THE BLIND SPOT.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it is just as well to take up the findings of the police. The
+      police of course never entertained any suggestion of the occult. They are
+      material; and were convinced from the start that the case had its origin
+      in downright villainy. Man is complex; but being so, is oft overbalanced
+      by evil Some genius had made a fool of the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the first place a thorough search was made for the professor. The house
+      at No. 288 Chatterton Place was ransacked from cellar to attic. The
+      records were gone over and it was found that the property had for some
+      time been vacant; that the real ownership was vested in a number of heirs
+      scattered about the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old lady had apparently been living on the place simply through
+      sufferance. No one could find out who she was. A few tradesman in the
+      vicinity had sold her some scant supplies and that was all. The stress
+      that Jerome placed upon her actions and words was; given its due account.
+      There were undoubtedly two villains; but there were two victims. That the
+      old lady was such as well as the professor no one has doubted. The whole
+      secret lay in the gentleman with the Eastern cast and complexion. Who was
+      Rhamda Avec?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now comes the strangest part of the story. Ever, when we re-count the
+      tale, there is something to overturn the theories of the police. It has
+      become a sort of legend in San Francisco; one to be taken with a grain of
+      salt, to be sure, but for all that, one at which we may well wonder. Here
+      the supporters of the professor's philosophy hold their strongest point&mdash;if
+      it is true. Of course we can venture no private opinion, never having been
+      a witness. It is this:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhamda Avec is with us and in our city. His description and drawn likeness
+      have been published many times. There are those who aver that they have
+      seen him in reality of the flesh walking through the crowds of Market
+      Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He is easily distinguished, tall and distinctive, refined to a high
+      degree, and with the poise and alertness of a gentleman of reliance and
+      character. Women look twice and wonder; he is neither old nor young; when
+      he smiles it is like youth breaking in laughter. And with him often is his
+      beautiful companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Men vouch for her beauty and swear that it is of the kind that drives to
+      distraction. She is fire and flesh and carnal&mdash;she is more than
+      beauty. There is allurement about her body; sylph-like, sinuous; the olive
+      tint of her complexion, the wonderful glory of her hair and the glowing
+      night-black of her eyes. Men pause; she is of the superlative kind that
+      robs the reason, a supreme glory of passion and life and beauty, at whose
+      feet fools and wise men would slavishly frolic and folly. She seldom
+      speaks, but those who have heard her say that it is like rippling water,
+      of gentleness and softness and of the mellow flow that comes from love and
+      passion and from beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course there is nothing out of the ordinary in their walking down the
+      streets. Anybody might do that. The wonder comes in the manner in which
+      they elude the police. They come and go in the broad, bright daylight.
+      Hundreds have seen them. They make no effort at concealment, nor disguise.
+      And yet no phantoms were ever more unreal than they to those who seek
+      them. Who are they? The officers have been summoned on many occasions; but
+      each and every time in some manner or way they had contrived to elude
+      them. There are some who have consigned them to the limbo of illusion. But
+      we do not entirely agree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a case like this it is well to take into consideration the
+      respectability and character of those who have witnessed. Phantoms are not
+      corporeal; these two are flesh and blood. There is mystery about them; but
+      they are substance, the same as we are.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And lastly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If you will take the Key Route ferry some foggy morning you may see
+      something to convince you. It must be foggy and the air must be grey and
+      drab and sombre. Take the lower deck. Perhaps you will see nothing. If not
+      try again; for they say you shall be rewarded. Watch the forward part of
+      the boat; but do not leave the inner deck. The great Rhamda watching the
+      grey swirl of the water!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stands alone, in his hands the case of reddish leather, his feet
+      slightly apart and his face full of a great hungry wonder. Watch his
+      features: they are strong and aglow with a great and wondrous wisdom; mark
+      if you see evil. And remember. Though he is like you he is something
+      vastly different. He is flesh and blood; but perhaps the master of one of
+      the greatest laws that man can attain to. He is the fact and the substance
+      that was promised, but was not delivered by the professor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This account has been largely taken from one of the Sunday editions of our
+      papers. I do not agree with it entirely. Nevertheless, it will serve as an
+      excellent foundation for my own adventures; and what is best of all, save
+      labour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V. &mdash; FRIENDS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      My name is Harry Wendel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am an attorney and until recently boasted of a splendid practice and an
+      excellent prospect for the future. I am still a young man; I have had a
+      good education and still have friends and admirers. Such being the case,
+      you no doubt wonder why I give a past reference to my practice and what
+      the future might have held for me. Listen:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I might as well start 'way back. I shall do it completely and go back to
+      the fast-receding time of childhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is a recollection of childish disaster. I had been making strenuous
+      efforts to pull the tail out of the cat that I might use it for a feather
+      duster. My desire was supreme logic. I could not understand objection; the
+      cat resisted for certain utilitarian reasons of its own and my mother
+      through humane sympathy. I had been scratched and spanked in addition: it
+      was the first storm centre that I remember. I had been punished but not
+      subdued. At the first opportunity, I stole out of the house and onto the
+      lawn that stretched out to the pavement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I remember the day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and everything
+      was green with springtime. For a minute I stood still and blinked in the
+      sunlight. It was beautiful and soft and balmy; the world at full
+      exuberance; the buds upon the trees, the flowers, and the songbirds
+      singing. I could not understand it. It was so beautiful and soft. My heart
+      was still beating fiercely, still black with perversity and stricken
+      rancour. The world had no right to be so. I hated with the full rush of
+      childish anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then I saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Across the street coming over to meet me was a child of my age. He was fat
+      and chubby, a mass of yellow curls and laughter; when he walked he held
+      his feet out at angles as is the manner of fat boys and his arms away from
+      his body. I slid off the porch quietly. Here was something that could
+      suffer for the cat and my mother. At my rush he stopped in wonder. I
+      remember his smiling face and my anger. In an instant I had him by the
+      hair and was biting with all the fury of vindictiveness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first he set up a great bawl for assistance. He could not understand;
+      he screamed and held his hands aloft to keep them out of my reach. Then he
+      tried to run away. But I had learned from the cat that had scratched me. I
+      clung on, biting, tearing. The shrill of his scream was music: it was
+      conflict, sweet and delicious; it was strife, swift as instinct.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last I stopped him; he ceased trying to get away and began to struggle.
+      It was better still; it was resistance. But he was stronger than I; though
+      I was quicker he managed to get my by the shoulders, to force me back, and
+      finally to upset me. Then in the stolid way, and after the manner of fat
+      boys, he sat upon my chest. When our startled mothers came upon the scene
+      they so found us&mdash;I upon my back, clinching my teeth and threatening
+      all the dire fates of childhood, and he waiting either for assistance or
+      until my ire should retire sufficiently to allow him to release me in
+      safety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who did it? Who started it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That I remember plainly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart, did you do this?&rdquo; The fat boy backed off quietly and clung to his
+      mother; but he did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart, did you start this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry, this was you; you started it. Didn't you try to hurt Hobart?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My mother took me by the hand and drew me away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a rascal, Mrs. Fenton, and has a temper like sin; but he will tell
+      the truth, thank goodness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I am telling this not for the mere relation, but by way of introduction.
+      It was my first meeting with Hobart Fenton. It is necessary that you know
+      us both and our characters. Our lives are so entwined and so related that
+      without it you could not get the gist of the story. In the afternoon I
+      came across the street to play with Hobart. He met me smiling. It was not
+      in his healthy little soul to hold resentment. I was either all smiles or
+      anger. I forgot as quickly as I battled. That night there were two happy
+      youngsters tucked into the bed and covers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So we grew up; one with the other. We played as children do and fought as
+      boys have done from the beginning. I shall say right now that the fights
+      were mostly my fault. I started them one and all; and if every battle had
+      the same beginning it likewise had the same ending. The first fight was
+      but the forerunner of all the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Please do not think hardly of Hobart. He is the kindest soul in the world;
+      there never was a truer lad nor a kinder heart. He was strong, healthy,
+      fat, and, like fat boys, forever laughing. He followed me into trouble and
+      when I was retreating he valiantly defended the rear. Stronger, sturdier,
+      and slower, he has been a sort of protector from the beginning. I have
+      called him the Rear Guard; and he does not resent it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have always been in mischief, restless, and eager for anything that
+      would bring quick action; and when I got into deep water Hobart would come
+      along, pluck me out and pull me to shore and safety. Did you ever see a
+      great mastiff and a fox terrier running together? It is a homely
+      illustration; but an apt one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We were boys together, with our delights and troubles, joys and sorrows. I
+      thought so much of Hobart that I did not shirk stooping to help him take
+      care of his baby sister. That is about the supreme sacrifice of a boy's
+      devotion. In after years, of course, he has laughed at me and swears I did
+      it on purpose. I do not know, but I am willing to admit that I think a
+      whole lot of that sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Side by side we grew up and into manhood. We went to school and into
+      college. Even as we were at odds in our physical builds and our
+      dispositions, so were we in our studies. From the beginning Hobart has had
+      a mania for screws, bolts, nuts, and pistons. He is practical; he likes
+      mathematics; he can talk to you from the binomial theorem up into
+      Calculus; he is never so happy as when the air is buzzing with a
+      conversation charged with induction coils, alternating currents, or atomic
+      energy. The whole swing and force of popular science is his kingdom. I
+      will say for Hobart that he is just about in line to be king of it all.
+      Today he is in South America, one of our greatest engineers. He is
+      bringing the water down from the Andes; and it is just about like those
+      strong shoulders and that good head to restore the land of the Incas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About myself? I went into the law. I enjoy an atmosphere of strife and
+      contention. I liked books and discussion and I thought that I would like
+      the law. On the advice of my elders I entered law college, and in due time
+      was admitted to practice. It was while studying to qualify that I first
+      ran into philosophy. I was a lad to enjoy quick, pithy, epigrammatic
+      statements. I have always favoured a man who hits from the shoulder.
+      Professor Holcomb was a man of terse, heavy thinking; he spoke what he
+      thought and he did not quibble. He favoured no one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I must confess that the old white-haired professor left his stamp upon me.
+      I loved him like all the rest; though I was not above playing a trick on
+      the old fellow occasionally. Still he had a wit of his own and seldom came
+      out second best, and when he lost out he could laugh like the next one. I
+      was deeply impressed by him. As I took course after course under him I was
+      convinced that for all of his dry philosophy the old fellow had a trick up
+      his sleeve; he had a way of expounding that was rather startling;
+      likewise, he had a scarcely concealed contempt for some of the demigods of
+      our old philosophy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What this trick was I could never uncover. I hung on and dug into great
+      tomes of wisdom. I became interested and gradually took up with his
+      speculation; for all my love of action I found that I had a strong
+      subcurrent for the philosophical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now I roomed with Hobart. When I would come home with some dry tome and
+      would lose myself in it by the hour he could not understand it. I was
+      preparing for the law. He could see no advantage to be derived from this
+      digging into speculation. He was practical and unless he could drive a
+      nail into a thing or at least dig into its chemical elements it was hard
+      to get him interested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of what use is it, Harry? Why waste your brains? These old fogies have
+      been pounding on the question for three thousand years. What have they
+      got? You could read all their literature from the pyramids down to the
+      present sky-scrapers and you wouldn't get enough practical wisdom to drive
+      a dump-cart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's just it,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I'm not hankering for a dump-cart. You have
+      an idea that all the wisdom in the world is locked up in the concrete;
+      unless a thing has wheels, pistons, some sort of combustion, or a chemical
+      action you are not interested. What gives you the control over your
+      machinery? Brains! But what makes the mind go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart blinked. &ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;that's what I am after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed. &ldquo;Great. Well, keep at it. It's your funeral, Harry. When you
+      have found, it let me know and I'll beat you to the patent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he turned to his desk and dug into one of his everlasting
+      formulas. Just the same, next day when I entered Holcomb's lecture-room I
+      was in for a surprise. My husky room-mate was in the seat beside me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the big idea?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;Big idea is right, Harry,&rdquo; he grinned.
+      &ldquo;Just thought I would beat you to it. Had a dickens of a time with Dan
+      Clark, of the engineering department. Told him I wanted to study
+      philosophy. The old boy put up a beautiful holler. Couldn't understand
+      what an engineer would want with psychology or ethics. Neither could I
+      until I got to thinking last night when I went to roost. Because a thing
+      has never been done is no reason why it never will be; is it, Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not. I don't know just what you are driving at. Perhaps you
+      intend to take your notes over to the machine shop and hammer out the
+      Secret of the Absolute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty wise head at that, Harry. What did you call it? The Secret of the
+      Absolute. Will remember that. I'm not much on phrases; but I'm sure the
+      strong boy with the hammer. You don't object to my sitting here beside
+      you; so that I, too, may drink in the little drops of wisdom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was in this way that Hobart entered into the study of philosophy. When
+      the class was over and we were going down the steps he patted me on the
+      shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's not so bad, Harry. Not so bad. The old doctor is there; he's got
+      them going. Likewise little Hobart has got a big idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now it happened that this was just about six weeks before Dr. Holcomb
+      announced his great lecture on the Blind Spot. It was not more than a week
+      after registration. In the time ensuing Fenton became just as great an
+      enthusiast as myself. His idea, of course, was chimerical and a blind; his
+      main purpose was to get in with me where he could argue me out of my
+      folly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He wound up by being a convert of the professor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came the great day. The night of the announcement we had a long
+      discussion. It was a deep question. For all of my faith in the professor I
+      was hardly prepared for a thing like this. Strange to say I was the
+      sceptic; and stranger still, it was Hobart who took the side of the
+      doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It merely comes down to this: you grant that a thing
+      is possible and then you deny the possibility of a proof&mdash;outside of
+      your abstract. That's good paradox, Harry; but almighty poor logic. If it
+      is so it certainly can be proven. There's not one reason in the world why
+      we can't have something concrete. The professor is right. I am with him.
+      He's the only professor in all the ages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, it turned out as it did. It was a terrible blow to us all. Most of
+      the world took it as a great murder or an equally great case of abduction.
+      There were but few, even in the university, who embraced the side of the
+      doctor. It was a case of villainy, of a couple of remarkably clever rogues
+      and a trusting scholar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was one whose faith was not diminished. He had been one of the
+      last to come under the influence of the doctor. He was practical and
+      concrete, and not at all attuned to philosophy; he had not the training
+      for deep dry thinking. He would not recede one whit. One day I caught him
+      sitting down with his head between his hands. I touched him on the
+      shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the deep study?&rdquo; I asked him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up. By his eyes I could see that his thoughts had been far away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the deep study?&rdquo; I repeated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was just thinking, Harry; just thinking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was just thinking, Harry, that I would like to have about one hundred
+      thousand dollars and about ten years' leisure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a nice thought,&rdquo; I answered; &ldquo;I could think that myself. What
+      would you do with it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do? Why, there is just one thing that I would do if I had that much
+      money. I would solve the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This happened years ago while we were still in college. Many things have
+      occurred since then. I am writing this on the verge of disaster. How
+      little do we know! What was the idea that buzzed in the head of Hobart
+      Fenton? He is concrete, physical, fearless. He is in South America. I have
+      cabled to him and expect him as fast as steam can bring him. The great
+      idea and discovery of the professor is a fact, not fiction. What is it?
+      That I cannot answer. I have found it and I am a witness to its potency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some law has been missed through the ages. It is inexorable and insidious;
+      it is concrete. Out of the unknown comes terror. Through the love for the
+      great professor I have pitted myself against it. From the beginning it has
+      been almost hopeless. I remember that last digression in ethics. &ldquo;The
+      mystery of the occult may be solved. We are five-sensed. When we bring the
+      thing down to the concrete we may understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes I wonder at the Rhamda. Is he a man or a phantom? Does he
+      control the Blind Spot? Is he the substance and the proof that was
+      promised by Dr. Holcomb? Through what process and what laws did the
+      professor acquire even his partial control over the phenomena? Where did
+      the Rhamda and his beautiful companion come from? Who are they? And lastly&mdash;what
+      was the idea that buzzed in the head of Hobart Fenton?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I look back now I wonder. I have never believed in fate. I do not
+      believe in it now. Man is the master of his own destiny. We are cowards
+      else. Whatever is to be known we should know it. One's duty is ever to
+      one's fellows. Heads up and onward. I am not a brave man, perhaps, under
+      close analysis; but once I have given my word I shall keep it. I have done
+      my bit; my simple duty. Perhaps I have failed. In holding myself against
+      the Blind Spot I have done no more than would have been done by a million
+      others. I have only one regret. Failure is seldom rewarded. I had hoped
+      that my life would be the last; I have a dim hope still. If I fail in the
+      end, there must be still one more to follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Understand I do not expect to die. It is the unknown that I am afraid of.
+      I who thought that we knew so much have found it still so little. There
+      are so many laws in the weave of Cosmos that are still unguessed. What is
+      this death that we are afraid of? What is life? Can we solve it? Is it
+      permissible? What is the Blind Spot? If Hobart Fenton is right it has
+      nothing to do with death. If so, what is it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My pen is weak. I am weary. I am waiting for Hobart. Perhaps I shall not
+      last. When he comes I want him to know my story. What he knows already
+      will not hurt repeating. It is well that man shall have it; it may be that
+      we shall both fail-there is no telling; but if we do the world can profit
+      by our blunders and guide itself&mdash;perhaps to the mastery of the
+      phenomenon that controls the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I ask you to bear with me. If I make a few mistakes or I am a bit loose,
+      remember the stress under which I am writing. I shall try to be plain so
+      that all may follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI. &mdash; CHICK WATSON
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Now to go back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In due time we were both of us graduated from college. I went into the law
+      and Hobart into engineering. We were both successful. There was not a
+      thing to foreshadow that either of us was to be jerked from his
+      profession. There was no adventure, but lots of work and reward in
+      proportion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps I was a bit more fortunate. I was in love and Hobart was still a
+      confirmed bachelor. It was a subject over which he was never done joking.
+      It was not my fault. I was innocent. If the blame ran anywhere it would
+      have to be placed upon that baby sister of his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It happened as it happened since God first made the maiden. One autumn
+      Hobart and I started off for college. We left Charlotte at the gate a girl
+      of fifteen years and ten times as many angles. I pulled one of her
+      pigtails, kissed her, and told her I wanted her to get pretty. When we
+      came home next summer I went over to pull the other pigtail. I did not
+      pull it. I was met by the fairest young woman I had ever looked on. And I
+      could not kiss her. Seriously, was I to blame?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now to the incident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a night in September. Hobart had completed his affairs and had
+      booked passage to South America. He was to sail next morning. We had
+      dinner that day with his family, and then came up to San Francisco for a
+      last and farewell bachelor night. We could take in the opera together,
+      have supper at our favourite cafe, and then turn in. It was a long hark
+      back to our childhood; but for all that we were still boys together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I remember that night. It was our favourite opera&mdash;&ldquo;Faust.&rdquo; It was
+      the one piece that we could agree on. Looking back since, I have wondered
+      at the coincidence. The old myth of age to youth and the subcurrent of sin
+      with its stalking, laughing, subtle Mephistopheles. It is strange that we
+      should have gone to this one opera on this one evening. I recall our
+      coming out of the theatre; our minds thrilling to the music and the subtle
+      weirdness of the theme.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A fog had fallen&mdash;one of those thick, heavy, grey mists that
+      sometimes come upon us in September. Into its sombre depths the crowd
+      disappeared like shadows. The lights upon the streets blurred yellow. At
+      the cold sheer contact we hesitated upon the pavement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had on a light overcoat. Hobart, bound for the tropics, had no such
+      protection. It was cold and miserable, a chill wind stirring from the
+      north was unusually cutting. Hobart raised his collar and dug his hands
+      into his pockets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brr,&rdquo; he muttered; &ldquo;brr, some coffee or some wine. Something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sidewalks were wet and slippery, the mists settling under the lights
+      had the effect of drizzle. I touched Hobart's arm and we started across
+      the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brr is right,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;and some wine. Notice the shadows, like
+      ghosts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We were half across the street before he answered; then he stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ghosts! Did you say ghosts, Harry?&rdquo; I noted a strange inflection in his
+      voice. He stood still and peered into the fog bank. His stop was sudden
+      and suggestive. Just then a passing taxicab almost caught us and we were
+      compelled to dodge quickly. Hobart ducked out of the way and I
+      side-stepped in another direction. We came up on the sidewalk. Again he
+      peered into the shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confound that cab,&rdquo; he was saying, &ldquo;now we have gone and missed him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took off his hat and then put it back on his head. His favourite trick
+      when bewildered. I looked up and down the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you see him? Harry! Didn't you see him? It was Rhamda Avec!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I had seen no one; that is to notice; I did not know the Rhamda. Neither
+      did he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda? You don't know him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart was puzzled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I do not; but it was he, just as sure as I am a fat man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I whistled. I recalled the tale that was now a legend. The man had an
+      affinity for the fog mist. To come out of &ldquo;Faust&rdquo; and to run into the
+      Rhamda! What was the connection? For a moment we both stood still and
+      waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder&mdash;&rdquo; said Hobart. &ldquo;I was just thinking about that fellow
+      tonight. Strange! Well, let's get something hot&mdash;some coffee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But it had given us something for discussion. Certainly it was unusual.
+      During the past few days I had been thinking of Dr. Holcomb; and for the
+      last few hours the tale had clung with reiterating persistence. Perhaps it
+      was the weirdness and the tremulous intoxication of the music. I was one
+      of the vast majority who disbelieved it. Was it possible that it was,
+      after all, other than the film of fancy? There are times when we are
+      receptive; at that moment I could have believed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We entered the cafe and chose a table slightly to the rear. It was a
+      contrast to the cold outside; the lights so bright, the glasses clinking,
+      laughter and music. A few young people were dancing. I sat down; in a
+      moment the lightness and jollity had stirred my blood. Hobart took a chair
+      opposite. The place was full of beauty. In the back of my mind blurred the
+      image of Rhamda. I had never seen him; but I had read the description. I
+      wondered absently at the persistence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have said that I do not believe in fate. I repeat it. Man should control
+      his own destiny. A great man does. Perhaps that is it. I am not great.
+      Certainly it was circumstance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the back part of the room at one of the tables was a young man sitting
+      alone. Something caught my attention. Perhaps it was his listlessness or
+      the dreamy unconcern with which he watched the dancers; or it may have
+      been the utter forlornness of his expression. I noted his unusual pallor
+      and his cast of dissipation, also the continual working of his long, lean
+      fingers. There are certain set fixtures in the night life of any city. But
+      this was not one. He was not an habitue. There was a certain greatness to
+      his loneliness and his isolation. I wondered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then he looked up. By a mere coincidence our eyes met. He smiled, a
+      weak smile and a forlorn one, and it seemed to me rather pitiful. Then as
+      suddenly his glance wandered to the door behind me. Perhaps there was
+      something in my expression that caught Hobart's attention. He turned
+      about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say, Harry, who is that fellow? I know that face, I'm certain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to think I have seen him myself. I wonder&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man looked up again. The same weary smile. He nodded. And again
+      he glanced over my shoulder toward the door. His face suddenly hardened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He knows us at any rate,&rdquo; I ventured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Hobart was sitting with his face toward the entrance. He could see
+      anyone coming or going. Following the young man's glance he looked over my
+      shoulder. He suddenly reached over and took me by the forearm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't look round,&rdquo; he warned; &ldquo;take it easy. As I said&mdash;on my honour
+      as a fat man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The very words foretold. I could not but risk a glance. Across the room a
+      man was coming down the aisle&mdash;a tall man, dark, and of a very
+      decided manner. I had read his description many times; I had seen his
+      likeness drawn by certain sketch artists of the city. They did not do him
+      justice. He had a wonderful way and presence&mdash;you might say,
+      magnetism. I noticed the furtive wondering glances that were cast,
+      especially by the women. He was a handsome man beyond denying, about the
+      handsomest I had ever seen. The same elusiveness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first I would have sworn him to be near sixty; the next minute I was
+      just as certain of his youth. There was something about him that could not
+      be put to paper, be it strength, force or vitality; he was subtle. His
+      step was prim and distinctive, light as shadow, in one hand he carried the
+      red case that was so often mentioned. I breathed an exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I a fat man? The famous Rhamda! What say! Ah, ha! He has business with
+      our wan friend yonder. See!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was so. He took a chair opposite the wan one. The young man
+      straightened. His face was even more familiar, but I could not place him.
+      His lips were set; in their grim line&mdash;determination; whatever his
+      exhaustion there was still a will. Somehow one had a respect for this weak
+      one; he was not a mere weakling. Yet I was not so sure that he was not
+      afraid of the Rhamda. He spoke to the waiter. The Rhamda began talking. I
+      noted the poise in his manner; it was not evil, rather was it calm&mdash;and
+      calculating. He made an indication. The young man drew back. He smiled; it
+      was feeble and weary, but for all of that disdainful. Though one had a
+      pity for his forlornness, there was still an admiration. The waiter
+      brought glasses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man swallowed his drink at a gulp, the other picked his up and
+      sipped it. Again he made the indication. The youth dropped his hand upon
+      the table, a pale blue light followed the movement of his fingers. The
+      older man pointed. So that was their contention? A jewel? After all our
+      phantom was material enough to desire possession; his solicitude was
+      calmness, but for all that aggression. I could sense a battle, but the
+      young man turned the jewel to the palm side of his fingers; he shook his
+      head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda drew up. For a moment he waited. Was it for surrender? Once he
+      started to speak, but was cut short by the other. For all of his weakness
+      there was spirit to the young man. He even laughed. The Rhamda drew out a
+      watch. He held up two fingers. I heard Hobart mumble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two minutes. Well, I'm betting on the young one. Too much soul. He's not
+      dead; just weary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was right. At exactly one hundred and twenty seconds the Rhamda closed
+      his watch. He spoke something. Again the young man laughed. He lit a
+      cigarette; from the flicker and jerk of the flame he was trembling. But he
+      was still emphatic. The other rose from the table, walked down the aisle
+      and out of the building. The youth spread out both arms and dropped his
+      head upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a little drama enacted almost in silence. Hobart and I exchanged
+      glances. The mere glimpse of the Rhamda had brought us both back to the
+      Blind Spot. Was there any connection? Who was the young man with the life
+      sapped out? I had a recollection of a face strangely familiar. Hobart
+      interrupted my thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd give just about one leg for the gist of that conversation. That was
+      the Rhamda; but who is the other ghost?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think it has to do with the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think,&rdquo; averred Hobart. &ldquo;I know. Wonder what's the time.&rdquo; He
+      glanced at his watch. &ldquo;Eleven thirty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just here the young man at the table raised up his head. The cigarette was
+      still between his fingers; he puffed lamely for a minute, taking a dull
+      note of his surroundings. In the well of gaiety and laughter coming from
+      all parts of the room his actions were out of place. He seemed dazed;
+      unable to pull himself together. Suddenly he looked at us. He started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He certainly knows us,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;I wonder&mdash;by George, he's coming
+      over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even his step was feeble. There was exertion about every move of his body,
+      the wanness and effort of vanished vitality; he balanced himself
+      carefully. Slowly, slowly, line by line his features became familiar, the
+      underlines of another, the ghost of one departed. At first I could not
+      place him. He held himself up for breath. Who was he? Then it suddenly
+      came to me&mdash;back to the old days at college&mdash;an athlete, one of
+      the best of fellows, one of the sturdiest of men! He had come to this!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart was before me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all the things that are holy!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;Chick Watson! Here, have
+      a seat. In the name of Heavens, Chick! What on earth&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other dropped feebly into the chair. The body that had once been so
+      powerful was a skeleton. His coat was a disguise of padding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello, Hobart; hello, Harry,&rdquo; he spoke in a whisper. &ldquo;Not much like the
+      old Chick, am I? First thing, I'll take some brandy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was almost tragic. I glanced at Hobart and nodded to the waiter. Could
+      it be Chick Watson? I had seen him a year before, hale, healthy,
+      prosperous. And here he was&mdash;a wreck!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;I'm not sick&mdash;not sick. Lord, boys, it's good to
+      meet you. I just thought I would come out for this one last night, hear
+      some music, see a pretty face, perhaps meet a friend. But I am afraid&mdash;&rdquo;
+       He dropped off like one suddenly drifting into slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hustle that waiter,&rdquo; I said to Hobart. &ldquo;Hurry that brandy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stimulant seemed to revive him. He lifted up suddenly. There was fear
+      in his eyes; then on seeing himself among friends&mdash;relief. He turned
+      to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think I'm sick, don't you?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You certainly are,&rdquo; I answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment silence. I glanced at Hobart. Hobart nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're just about in line for a doctor, Chick, old boy,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;I'm
+      going to see that you have one. Bed for you, and the care of mother&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He started; he seemed to jerk himself together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it, Harry; that's what I wanted. It's so hard for me to think.
+      Mother, mother! That's why I came downtown. I wanted a friend. I have
+      something for you to give to mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rats,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;I'll take you to her. What are you talking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But he shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish that you were telling the truth, Harry. But it's no use&mdash;not
+      after tonight. All the doctors in the world could not save me. I'm not
+      sick, boys, far from it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart spoke up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Chick? I have a suspicion. Am I right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick looked up; he closed his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Hobart, what's your suspicion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fenton leaned over. It seemed to me that he was peering into the other's
+      soul. He touched his forearm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chick, old boy, I think I know. But tell me. Am I right? It's the Blind
+      Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the words Watson opened his eyes; they were full of hope and wonder,
+      for a moment, and then, as suddenly of a great despair. His body went to a
+      heap. His voice was feeble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I am dying&mdash;of the Blind Spot&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII. &mdash; THE RING
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was a terrible thing; death stalking out of the Blind Spot. We had
+      almost forgotten. It had been a story hitherto&mdash;a wonderful one to be
+      sure, and one to arouse conjecture. I had never thought that we were to be
+      brought to its shivering contact. It was out of the occult; it had been so
+      pronounced by the professor; a great secret of life holding out a guerdon
+      of death to its votaries. Witness Chick Watson, the type of healthy,
+      fighting manhood&mdash;come to this. He opened his eyes feebly; one could
+      see the light; the old spirit was there&mdash;fighting for life. What was
+      this struggle of soul and flesh? Why had the soul hung on? He made another
+      effort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More drink,&rdquo; he asked; &ldquo;more drink. Anything to hold me together. I must
+      tell you. You must take my place and&mdash;and&mdash;fight the Blind Spot!
+      Promise that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Order the drinks,&rdquo; I told Hobart. &ldquo;I see Dr. Hansen over there. Even if
+      we cannot save him we must hold him until we get his story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I went and fetched Hansen over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A strange case,&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Pulse normal; not a trace of fever. Not
+      sick, you say&mdash;&rdquo; Hobart pointed to his head. &ldquo;Ah, I see! I would
+      suggest home and a bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just here Watson opened his eyes again. They rested first upon the doctor,
+      then upon myself, and finally upon the brandy. He took it up and drank it
+      with eagerness. It was his third one; it gave him a bit more life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't I tell you, boys, that there is not a doctor on earth that can
+      save me? Excuse me, doc. I am not sick. I told them. I am far past physic;
+      I have gone beyond medicine. All I ask is stimulant and life enough to
+      tell my story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My boy,&rdquo; asked the doctor kindly, &ldquo;what ails you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson smiled. He touched himself on the forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Up here, doc. There are things in the world with which we may not tamper.
+      I tried it. Somebody had to do it and somebody has to do it yet. You
+      remember Dr. Holcomb; he was a great man; he was after the secret of life.
+      He began it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Hansen started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord!&rdquo; he exclaimed, looking at us all; &ldquo;you don't mean this man is mixed
+      up in the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We nodded. Watson smiled; again he dropped back into inertia; the speech
+      he had made was his longest yet; the brandy was coming into effect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give him brandy,&rdquo; the doctor said; &ldquo;it's as good as anything. It will
+      hold him together and give him life for a while. Here.&rdquo; He reached into
+      his pocket and flicked something into the glass. &ldquo;That will help him.
+      Gentlemen, do you know what it means? I had always thought! I knew Dr.
+      Holcomb! Crossing over the border! It may not be done! The secret of life
+      is impossible. Yet&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson opened his eyes again; his spirit seemed suddenly to flicker into
+      defiance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who said it was impossible? Who said it? Gentlemen, it IS possible. Dr.
+      Holcomb&mdash;pardon me. I do not wish to appear a sot; but this brandy is
+      about the only thing to hold me together. I have only a few hours left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the glass, and at one gulp downed the contents. I do not know what
+      the doctor had dropped into it. Chick revived suddenly, and a strange
+      light blazed up in his eyes, like life rekindled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, now I am better. So?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned to us all; then to the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you say the secret of life is impossible?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Chick smiled wanly. &ldquo;May I ask you: what it is that has just flared up
+      within me? I am weak, anaemic, fallen to pieces; my muscles have lost the
+      power to function, my blood runs cold, I have been more than two feet over
+      the border. And yet&mdash;a few drinks of brandy, of stimulants, and you
+      have drawn me back, my heart beats strongly, for an hour. By means of
+      drugs you have infused a new life&mdash;which of course is the old&mdash;and
+      driven the material components of my body into correlation. You are
+      successful for a time; so long as nature is with you; but all the while
+      you are held aghast by the knowledge that the least flaw, the least
+      disarrangement, and you are beaten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is your business to hold this life or what you may. When it has gone
+      your structures, your anatomy, your wonderful human machine is worthless.
+      Where has it come from? Where has it gone? I have drunk four glasses of
+      brandy; I have a lease of four short hours. Ordinarily it would bring
+      reaction; it is poison, to be sure; but it is driving back my spirit,
+      giving me life and strength enough to tell my story&mdash;in the morning I
+      shall be no more. By sequence I am a dead man already. Four glasses of
+      brandy; they are speaking. Whence comes this affinity of substance and of
+      shadow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We all of us listened, the doctor most of all. &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you see?&rdquo; repeated Watson. &ldquo;There is affinity between substance and
+      shadow; and therefore your spirit or shadow or what you will is concrete,
+      is in itself a substance. It is material just as much as you are. Because
+      you do not see it is no proof that it is not substance. That pot palm
+      yonder does not see you; it is not blessed with eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked at Watson; he spoke gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very old stuff, my boy, out of your abstract philosophy. No man
+      knows the secret of life. Not even yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The light in Watson's eyes grew brighter, he straightened; he began
+      slipping the ring from his finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;I don't. I have tried and it was like playing with
+      lightning. I sought for life and it is giving me death. But there is one
+      man living who has found it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Dr. Holcomb!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We all of us started. We had every one given the doctor up as dead. The
+      very presence of Watson was tragedy. We did not doubt that he had been
+      through some terrible experience. There are things in the world that may
+      not be unriddled. Some power, some sinister thing was reaching for his
+      vitality. What did he know about the professor? Dr. Holcomb had been a
+      long time dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentlemen. You must hear my story; I haven't long to tell it. However,
+      before I start here is a proof for a beginning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tossed the ring upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Hobart who picked it up. A beautiful stone, like a sapphire; blue
+      but uncut and of a strange pellucid transparency&mdash;a jewel
+      undoubtedly; but of a kind we have never seen. We all of us examined it,
+      and were all, I am afraid, a bit disappointed. It was a stone and nothing
+      else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson watched us. The waiter had brought more brandy, and Watson was
+      sipping it, not because he liked it, he said, but just to keep himself at
+      the proper lift.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't understand it, eh? You see nothing? Hobart, have you a match?
+      There, that's it; now give me the ring. See&mdash;&rdquo; He struck the match
+      and held the flame against the jewel. &ldquo;Gentlemen, there is no need for me
+      to speak. The stone will give you a volume. It's not trickery, I assure
+      you, but fact. There, now, perfect. Doctor, you are the sceptic. Take a
+      look at the stone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor picked it up casually and held it up before his eyes. At first
+      he frowned; then came a look of incredulity; his chin dropped and he rose
+      in his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;the man's living! It&mdash;he&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Hobart and I had crowded over. The doctor held the ring so we could
+      see it. Inside the stone was Dr. Holcomb!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strenuous moment, and the most incredible. We all of us knew the
+      doctor. It was not a photograph, nor a likeness; but the man himself. It
+      was beyond all reason that he could be in the jewel; indeed there was only
+      the head visible; one could catch the expression of life, the movements of
+      the eyelids. Yet how could it be? What was it? It was Hobart who spoke
+      first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chick,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;what's the meaning? Were it not for my own eyes I
+      would call it impossible. It's absurd on the face. The doctor! Yet I can
+      see him&mdash;living. Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the whole question. Where is he? I know and yet I know nothing.
+      You are now looking into the Blind Spot. The doctor sought the secret of
+      life&mdash;and found it. He was trapped by his own wisdom!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII. &mdash; THE NERVINA
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      For a moment we were silent. The jewel reposed upon the table. What was
+      the secret of its phenomena? I could think of nothing in science that
+      would explain it. How had Watson come into its possession? What was the
+      tale he had to tell? The lean, long finger that clutched for brandy! What
+      force was this that had driven him to such a verge? He was resigned;
+      though he was defiant he had already conceded his surrender. Dr. Hansen
+      spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Watson,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;what do you know about the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We all turned to Chick. Hobart ordered more brandy. The doctor's eyes went
+      to slits. I could not but wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chick,&rdquo; I asked, &ldquo;who is Rhamda Avec?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You saw him a few minutes ago? You saw him with me? Let me ask you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;I saw him. Most people did. Is he invisible? Is he
+      really the phantom they say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Somehow the mention of the name made him nervous; he looked cautiously
+      about the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I don't know, Harry. It&mdash;If I can only get my wits together. Is
+      he a phantom? Yes, I think so. I can't understand him. At least, he has
+      the powers we attribute to an apparition. He is strange and unaccountable.
+      Sometimes you see him, sometimes you don't. The first known of him was on
+      the day Professor Holcomb was to deliver his lecture on the Blind Spot. He
+      was tracked, you know, to the very act. Then came in the Nervina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who is the Nervina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson looked at me blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Nervina?&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;The Nervina&mdash;what do you know about the
+      Nervina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. You mentioned her just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mind seemed to ramble. He looked about the room rather fearfully.
+      Perhaps he was afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I mention her? I don't know, Harry, my wits are muddled. The Nervina?
+      She is a goddess. Never was and never will be woman. She loves; she never
+      hates, and still again she does not love. She is beautiful; too beautiful
+      for man. I've quit trying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she Rhamda's wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes lit fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you love her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went blank again; but at last he spoke slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't love her. What's the use? She's not for me. I did; but I
+      learned better. I was after the professor&mdash;and the Blind Spot. She&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again that look of haunted pursuit. He glanced about the room. Whatever
+      had been his experience, it was plain that he had not given up. He held
+      something and he held it still. What was it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say you didn't find the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I did not find it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any idea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Harry,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I am full of ideas. That's the trouble. I
+      am near it. It's the cause of my present condition. I don't know just what
+      it is nor where. A condition, or a combination of phenomena. You remember
+      the lecture that was never delivered? Had the doctor spoken that morning
+      the world would have had a great fact. He had made a great discovery. It
+      is a terrible thing.&rdquo; He turned the ring so we could all see it&mdash;beyond
+      all doubt it was the doctor. &ldquo;There he is&mdash;the professor. If he could
+      only speak. The secret of the ages. Just think what it means. Where is he?
+      I have taken that jewel to the greatest lapidaries and they have one and
+      all been startled. Then they all come to the same conclusion&mdash;trickery&mdash;Chinese
+      or Hindu work, they say; most of them want to cut.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you taken it to the police?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would simply be laughed at.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever reported this Rhamda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A score of times. They have come and sought; but every time he has gone
+      out&mdash;like a shadow. It's got to be an old story now. If you call them
+      up and tell them they laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you account for it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't. I&mdash;I&mdash;I'm just dying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And not one member of the force&mdash;surely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. There's one. You have heard of Jerome. Jerome followed the
+      professor and the Rhamda to the house of the Blind Spot, as he calls it.
+      He's not a man to fool. He had eyes and he saw it. He will not leave it
+      till he's dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he did not see the Blind Spot, did he? How about trickery? Did it
+      ever occur to you that the professor might have been murdered?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take a look at that, Harry. Does that look like murder? When you see the
+      man living?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson reached over and turned up the jewel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Hobart came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a minute, Chick. My wise friend here is an attorney. He's always the
+      first into everything, especially conversation. It's been my job pulling
+      Harry out of trouble. Just one question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you&mdash;er&mdash;keep company, as they say, with Bertha Holcomb
+      while at college?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A kind look came into the man's eyes; he nodded; his whole face was soft
+      and saddened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. That naturally brought you to the Blind Spot. You are after her
+      father. Am I correct?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. Perhaps Bertha has taken you into some of her father's
+      secrets. He undoubtedly had data on this Blind Spot. Have you ever been
+      able to locate it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. This Rhamda? Has he ever sought that data?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Many, many times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he know you haven't got it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So. I understand. You hold the whip hand through your ignorance. Rhamda
+      is your villain&mdash;and perhaps this Nervina? Who is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A goddess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; He laughed. &ldquo;A goddess. Naturally! They all are. There are
+      about forty in this room at the present moment, my dear fellow. Watch them
+      dance!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now I had picked up the ring. It just fitted the natural finger. I tried
+      it on and looked into the jewel. The professor was growing dimmer. The
+      marvellous blue was returning, a hue of fascination; not the hot flash of
+      the diamond, but the frozen light of the iceberg. It was frigid, cold,
+      terrible, blue, alluring. To me at the moment it seemed alive and
+      pulselike. I could not account for it. I felt the lust for possession.
+      Perhaps there was something in my face. Watson leaned over and touched me
+      on the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;do you think you can stand up under the burden? Will
+      you take my place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I looked into his eyes; in their black depths was almost entreaty. How
+      haunting they were, and beseeching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you take my place?&rdquo; he begged. &ldquo;Are you willing to give up all that
+      God gives to the fortunate? Will you give up your practice? Will you hold
+      out to the end? Never surrender? Will&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean will I take this ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. But you must know beforehand. It would be murder to give it to
+      you without the warning. Either your death or that of Dr. Holcomb. It is
+      not a simple jewel. It defies description. It takes a man to wear it. It
+      is subtle and of destruction; it eats like a canker; it destroys the body;
+      it frightens the soul&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An ominous piece of finery,&rdquo; I spoke. &ldquo;Wherein&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Watson interrupted. There was appeal in his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;I am asking. Somebody has got to wear this ring. He
+      must be a man. He must be fearless; he must taunt the devil. It is hard
+      work, I assure you. I cannot last much longer. You loved the old doctor.
+      If we get at this law we have done more for mankind than either of us may
+      do with his profession. We must save the old professor. He is living and
+      he is waiting. There are perils and forces that we do not know of. The
+      doctor went at it alone and fearless; he succumbed to his own wisdom. I
+      have followed after, and I have been crushed down&mdash;perhaps by my
+      ignorance. I am not afraid. But I don't want my work to die. Somebody has
+      got to take it on and you are the man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were all of them looking at me. I studied the wonderful blue and its
+      light. The image of the great professor had dimmed almost completely. It
+      was a sudden task and a great one. Here was a law; one of the great
+      secrets of Cosmos. What was it? Somehow the lure caught into my vitals. I
+      couldn't picture myself ever coming to the extremity of my companion.
+      Besides, it was a duty. I owed it to the old doctor. It seemed somehow
+      that he was speaking. Though Watson did the talking I could feel him
+      calling. Would I be afraid? Besides, there was the jewel. It was calling;
+      already I could feel it burning into my spirit. I looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you take it, Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. God knows I am worthless enough. I'll take it up. It may give me a
+      chance to engage with this famous Rhamda.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be careful of Rhamda, Harry. And above all don't let him have the ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because. Now listen. I'm not laying this absolutely, understand.
+      Nevertheless the facts all point in one direction. Hold the ring.
+      Somewhere in that lustre lies a great secret; it controls the Blind Spot.
+      The Rhamda himself may not take it off your finger. You are immune from
+      violence. Only the ring itself may kill you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He coughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God knows,&rdquo; he spoke, &ldquo;it has killed me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was rather ominous. The mere fact of that cough and his weakness was
+      enough. One would come to this. He had warned me, and he had besought me
+      with the same voice as the warning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you take the ring? What is the time? Twelve. Gentlemen&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now here comes in one of the strange parts of my story&mdash;one that I
+      cannot account for. Over the shoulder of Dr. Hansen I could watch the
+      door. Whether it was the ring or not I do not know. At the time I did not
+      reason. I acted upon impulse. It was an act beyond good breeding. I had
+      never done such a thing before. I had never even seen the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman? Why do I say it? She was never a woman&mdash;she was a girl&mdash;far,
+      far transcendent. It was the first time I had ever seen her&mdash;standing
+      there before the door. I had never beheld such beauty, such profile, poise&mdash;the
+      witching, laughing, night-black of her eyes; the perfectly bridged nose
+      and the red, red lips that smiled, it seemed to me, in sadness. She
+      hesitated, and as if puzzled, lifted a jewelled hand to her raven mass of
+      hair. To this minute I cannot account for my action, unless, perchance, it
+      was the ring. Perhaps it was. Anyway I had risen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How well do I remember.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to me that I had known her a long, long time. There was
+      something about her that was not seduction; but far, far above it.
+      Somewhere I had seen her, had known her. She was looking and she was
+      waiting for me. There was something about her that was super feminine. I
+      thought it then, and I say it now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then her glance came my way. She smiled, and nodded; there was a note
+      of sadness in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry Wendel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There is no accounting for my action, nor my wonder; she knew me. Then it
+      was true! I was not mistaken! Somewhere I had seen her. I felt a vague and
+      dim rush of dreamy recollections. Ah, that was the answer! She was a girl
+      of dreams and phantoms. Even then I knew it; she was not a woman; not as
+      we conceive her; she was some materialisation out of Heaven. Why do I talk
+      so? Ah! this strange beauty that is woman! From the very first she held me
+      in the thrall that has no explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do we dance?&rdquo; she asked simply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next moment I had her in my arms and we were out among the dancers.
+      That my actions were queer and entirely out of reason never occurred to
+      me. There was a call about her beautiful body and in her eyes that I could
+      not answer. There was a fact between us, some strange bond that was beyond
+      even passion. I danced, and in an extreme emotion of happiness. A girl out
+      of the dreams and the ether&mdash;a sprig of life woven out of the
+      moonbeams!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know me?&rdquo; she asked as we danced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;and no. I have seen you; but I do not remember; you
+      come from the sunshine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed prettily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you always talk like this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are out of my dreams,&rdquo; I answered: &ldquo;it is sufficient. But who are
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held back her pretty head and looked at me; her lips drooped slightly
+      at the corners, a sad smile, and tender, in the soft wonderful depths of
+      her eyes&mdash;a pity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;are you going to wear this ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So that was it. The ring and the maiden. What was the bond? There was
+      weirdness in its colour, almost cabalistic&mdash;a call out of the occult.
+      The strange beauty of the girl, her remarkable presence, and her concern.
+      Whoever and whatever she was her anxiety was not personal. In some way she
+      was woven up with this ring and poor Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall,&rdquo; I answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the strange querulous pity and hesitation; her eyes grew darker,
+      almost pleading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't give it to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How near I came to doing it I shall not tell. It would be hard to say it.
+      I knew vaguely that she was playing; that I was the plaything. It is hard
+      for a man to think of himself as being toyed with. She was certain; she
+      was confident of my weakness. It was resentment, perhaps, and pride of
+      self that gave the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall keep it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know the danger, Harry? It is death to wear it. A thousand perils&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall keep it. I like peril. You wish for the ring. If I keep it I
+      may have you. This is the first time I have danced with the girl out of
+      the moonbeams.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes snapped, and she stopped dancing. I don't think my words
+      displeased her. She was still a woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this final? You're a fine young man, Mr. Wendel. I know you. I stepped
+      in to save you. You are playing with something stranger than the
+      moonbeams. No man may wear that ring and hold to life. Again, Harry, I ask
+      you; for your own sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment we passed Watson. He was watching; as our eyes glanced he
+      shook his head. Who was this girl? She was as beautiful as sin and as
+      tender as a virgin. What interest had she in myself?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's just the reason,&rdquo; I laughed. &ldquo;You are too interested. You are too
+      beautiful to wear it. I am a man; I revel in trouble; you are a girl. It
+      would not be honourable to allow you to take it. I shall keep it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had overreached herself, and she knew it. She bit her lip. But she
+      took it gracefully; so much so, in fact, that I thought she meant it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry,&rdquo; she answered slowly. &ldquo;I had hopes. It is terrible to look at
+      Watson and then to think of you. It is, really&rdquo;&mdash;a faint tremor ran
+      through her body; her hand trembled&mdash;&ldquo;it is terrible. You young men
+      are so unafraid. It's too bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then the door was opened; outside I could see the bank of fog;
+      someone passed. She turned a bit pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me. I must be going. Don't you see I'm sorry&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held out her hand&mdash;the same sad little smile. On the impulse of
+      the moment, unmindful of place, I drew it to my lips and kissed it. She
+      was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I returned to the table. The three men were watching me: Watson
+      analytically, the doctor with wonder, and Hobart with plain disgust.
+      Hobart spoke first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nice for sister Charlotte, eh, Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I had not a word to say. In the full rush of the moment I knew that he was
+      right. It was all out of reason. I had no excuse outside of sheer insanity&mdash;and
+      dishonour. The doctor said nothing. It was only in Watson's face that
+      there was a bit of understanding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have told you. It is not Harry's fault. It is the
+      Nervina. No man may resist her. She is beauty incarnate; she weaves with
+      the hearts of men, and she loves no one. It is the ring. She, the Rhamda,
+      the Blind Spot, and the ring. I have never been able to unravel them.
+      Please don't blame Harry. He went to her even as I. She has but to beckon.
+      But he kept the ring. I watched them. This is but the beginning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Hobart muttered: &ldquo;She's a beauty all right&mdash;a beauty. That's the
+      rub. I know Harry&mdash;I know him as a brother, and I want him so in
+      fact. But I'd hate to trust that woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never fear, Hobart, your sister is safe enough. The Nervina is not a
+      woman. She is not of the flesh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brr,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;you give me the creeps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson reached for the brandy; he nodded to the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a bit more of that stuff if you please. Whatever it is, on the last
+      night one has no fear of habit. There&mdash;Now, gentlemen, if you will
+      come with me, I shall take you to the house of the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX. &mdash; &ldquo;NOW THERE ARE THREE&rdquo;
+     </h2>
+    <p>
+      I shall never forget that night. When we stepped to the pavement the whole
+      world was shrouded. The heavy fog clung like depression; life was gone out&mdash;a
+      foreboding of gloom and disaster. It was cold, dank, miserable; one
+      shuddered instinctively and battered against the wall with steaming
+      columns of breath. Just outside the door we were detained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Hansen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Someone stepped beside us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Hansen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A message, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor made a gesture of impatience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bother!&rdquo; he spoke. &ldquo;Bother! A message. Nothing in the world would stop
+      me! I cannot leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless he stepped back into the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a minute, gentlemen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tore open the envelope. Then he looked up at the messenger and then at
+      us. His face was startled&mdash;almost frightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am sorry. Not a thing in the world would detain
+      me but this. I would go with you, but I may not. My duty as a physician. I
+      had hopes.&rdquo; He came over to me and spoke softly. &ldquo;I am going to send you
+      one of the greatest specialists in the city in my stead. This young man
+      should have attention. Have you the address?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;288 Chatterton Place,&rdquo; I answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. I am sorry, very much disappointed. However, it is my
+      daughter, and I cannot do otherwise. Continue the brandy for a while&mdash;and
+      this.&rdquo; He slipped an envelope into my hand. &ldquo;By that time Dr. Higgins will
+      be with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think there is hope?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's always hope,&rdquo; replied the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I returned to my companions. They were walking slowly. It was work for
+      poor Watson. He dragged on, leaning on Hobart's arm. But at last he gave
+      up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I can't make it. I'm too far gone. I had thought&mdash;Oh,
+      what a lapse it has been! I am eighty years of age; one year ago I was a
+      boy. If only I had some more brandy. I have some at the house. We must
+      make that. I must show you; there I can give you the details.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hail a cab,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;Here's one now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few minutes later we were before the House of the Blind Spot. It was a
+      two storey drab affair, much like a thousand others, old-fashioned, and
+      might have been built in the early nineties. It had been outside of the
+      fire limits of 1906, and so had survived the great disaster. Chatterton
+      Place is really a short street running lengthwise along the summit of the
+      hill. A flight of stone steps descended to the pavement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson straightened up with an effort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the house,&rdquo; he spoke. &ldquo;I came here a year ago. I go away tonight.
+      I had hoped to find it. I promised Bertha. I came alone. I had reasons to
+      believe I had solved it. I found the Rhamda and the Nervina. I had iron
+      will and courage&mdash;also strength. The Rhamda was never able to control
+      me. My life is gone but not my will. Now I have left him another. Do not
+      surrender, Harry. It is a gruesome task; but hold on to the end. Help me
+      up the steps. There now. Just wait a minute till I fetch a stimulant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not ring for a servant. That I noticed. Instead he groped about for
+      a key, unlocked the door and stumbled into a room. He fumbled for a minute
+      among some glasses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you switch on a light?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart struck a match; when he found it he pressed the switch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room in which we were standing was a large one, fairly well furnished,
+      and lined on two sides with bookshelves; in the centre was an oak table
+      cluttered with papers, a couple of chairs, and on one of them, a heavy
+      pipe, which, somehow, I did not think of as Watson's. He noticed my look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jerome's,&rdquo; he explained. &ldquo;We live here&mdash;Jerome, the detective, and
+      myself. He has been here since the day of the doctor's disappearance. I
+      came here a year ago. He is in Nevada at present. That leaves me alone.
+      You will notice the books, mostly occult: partly mine, partly the
+      detective's. We have gone at it systematically from the beginning. We have
+      learned almost everything but what would help us. Mostly sophistry&mdash;and
+      guesswork. Beats all how much ink has been wasted to say nothing. We were
+      after the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is it? Is it in this house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can answer one part of your question,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;but not the other.
+      It is here somewhere, in some place. Jerome is positive of that. You
+      remember the old lady? The one who died? Her actions were rather positive
+      even if feeble. She led Jerome to this next room.&rdquo; He turned and pointed;
+      the door was open. I could see a sofa and a few chairs; that was all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was in here. The bell. Jerome never gets tired of telling. A church
+      bell. In the centre of the room. At first I didn't believe; but now I
+      accept it all. I know, but what I know is by intuition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sort of sixth sense?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Or foresight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never saw this bell nor found it? Never were able to arrive at an
+      explanation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How about the Rhamda? The Nervina? Do they come to this house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not often.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do they come in? Through the window?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled rather sadly. &ldquo;I don't know. At least they come. You shall see
+      them yourself. The Rhamda still has something to do with Dr. Holcomb.
+      Somehow his very concern tells me the doctor is safe. Undoubtedly the
+      professor made a great discovery. But he was not alone. He had a co-worker&mdash;the
+      Rhamda. For reasons of his own the Rhamda wishes to control the Blind
+      Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the professor is in this Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We think so. At least it is our conjecture. We do not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you don't think it trickery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, hardly. Harry, you know better than that. Can you imagine the great
+      doctor the dupe of a mere trickster? The professor was a man of great
+      science and was blessed with an almighty sound head. But he had one
+      weakness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart spoke up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Chick? I think I know what you mean. The old boy was honest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. He had been a scholar all his life. He taught ethics. He
+      believed in right. He practised his creed. When he came to the crucial
+      experiment he found himself dealing with a rogue. The Rhamda helped him
+      just so far; but once he had the professor in his power it was not his
+      purpose to release him until he was secure of the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; I spoke. &ldquo;The man is a villain. I think we can handle him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Watson shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's just it, Harry! The man! If he were a man I could have handled him
+      in short order. That's what I thought at first. Don't make any mistake.
+      Don't try violence. That's the whole crux of the difficulty. If he were
+      only a man! Unfortunately, he is not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a man!&rdquo; I exclaimed. &ldquo;What do you mean? Then, what is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a phantom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I glanced at Hobart and caught his eye. Hobart believed him! The poor
+      pallid face of Watson, the athlete; there was nothing left to him but his
+      soul! I shall not forget Watson as he sat there, his lean, long fingers
+      grasping the brandy glass, his eyes burning and his life holding back from
+      the pit through sheer will and courage. Would I come to this? Would I have
+      the strength to measure up to his standard?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart broke the tension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chick's right. There is something in it, Harry. Not all the secrets of
+      the universe have been unlocked by any means. Now, Chick, about details.
+      Have you any data&mdash;any notes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson rose. I could see he was grateful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You believe me, don't you, Hobart? It is good. I had hoped to find
+      someone, and I found you two. Harry, remember what I have told you. Hold
+      the ring. You take my place. Whatever happens, stick out to the end. You
+      have Hobart here to help you. Now just a minute. The library is here; you
+      can look over my books. I shall return in a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped out into the hall; we could hear his weary feet dragging down
+      the hallway&mdash;a hollow sound and a bit uncanny. Somehow my mind
+      rambled back to that account I had read in the newspaper&mdash;Jerome's
+      story&mdash;&ldquo;Like weary bones dragging slippers.&rdquo; And the old lady. Who
+      was she? Why was everyone in this house pulled down to exhaustion&mdash;the
+      words of the old lady, I could almost hear them; the dank air murmuring
+      their recollection. &ldquo;Now there are two. Now there are two!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter, Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps I was frightened. I do not know. I looked around. The sound of
+      Watson's footsteps had died away; there was a light in the back of the
+      building coming toward us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing! Only&mdash;damn this place, Hobart. Don't you notice it? It's
+      enough to eat your heart out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather interesting,&rdquo; said Hobart. It was too interesting for me. I
+      stepped over to the shelves and looked at the titles. Sanskrit and Greek;
+      German and French&mdash;the Vedas, Sir Oliver Lodge, Besant, Spinoza, a
+      conglomeration of all ages and tongues; a range of metaphysics that was as
+      wide as Babel, and about as enlightening. As Babel? Over my shoulders came
+      the strangest sound of all, weak, piping, tremulous, fearful&mdash;&ldquo;Now
+      there are two. Now there are two.&rdquo; My heart gave a fearful leap. &ldquo;Soon
+      there will be three! Soon&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I turned suddenly about. I had a fearful thought. I looked at Hobart. A
+      strange, insidious fear clutched at me. Was the thought intrinsic? If not,
+      where had it come from? Three? I strained my ears to hear Watson's
+      footsteps. He was in the back part of the building. I must have some air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to open the door, Hobart,&rdquo; I spoke. &ldquo;The front door, and look
+      out into the street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't blame you much. Feel a bit that way myself. About time for Dr.
+      Higgins. Here comes Chick again. Take a look outside and see if the doc is
+      coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I opened the door and looked out into the dripping fog bank. What a pair
+      of fools we were! We both knew it, and we were both seeking an excuse. In
+      the next room through the curtains I could see the weak form of Watson; he
+      was bearing a light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the light went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was at high tension; the mere fact of the light was nothing, but it
+      meant a world at that moment&mdash;a strange sound&mdash;a struggle&mdash;then
+      the words of Watson&mdash;Chick Watson's:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry! Harry! Hobart! Harry! Come here! It's the Blind Spot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was in the next room. The despair of that call is unforgettable, like
+      that of one suddenly falling into space. Then the light dropped to the
+      floor. I could see the outlines of his figure and a weird, single string
+      of incandescence. Hobart turned and I leaped. It was a blur, the form of a
+      man melting into nothing. I sprang into the room, tearing down the
+      curtains. Hobart was on top of me. But we were too late. I could feel the
+      vibrancy of something uncanny as I rushed across the space intervening.
+      Through my mind darted the thrill of terror. It had come suddenly, and in
+      climax. It was over before it had commenced. The light had gone out. Only
+      by the gleam from the other room could we make out each others' faces. The
+      air was vibrant, magnetic. There was no Watson. But we could hear his
+      voice. Dim and fearful, coming down the corridors of time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold that ring, Harry! Hold that ring!&rdquo; Then the faint despair out of the
+      weary distance, faint, but a whole volume:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Blind Spot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was over as quickly as that. The whole thing climaxed into an instant.
+      It is difficult to describe. One cannot always analyse sensations. Mine, I
+      am afraid, were muddled. A thousand insistent thoughts clashed through my
+      brain. Horror, wonder, doubt! I have only one persistent and predominating
+      recollection. The old lady! I could almost feel her coming out of the
+      shadows. There was sadness and pity; out of the stillness and the corners.
+      What had been the dirge of her sorrow?
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;NOW THERE ARE THREE!&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X. &mdash; MAN OR PHANTOM
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was Hobart who came to first. His voice was good to hear. It was
+      natural; it was sweet and human, but it was pregnant with disappointment:
+      &ldquo;We are fools, Harry; we are fools!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But I could only stare. I remember saying: &ldquo;The Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; returned Hobart, &ldquo;the Blind Spot. But what is it? We saw him go.
+      Did you see it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It gets me,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;He just vanished into space. It&mdash;&rdquo; Frankly
+      I was afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It tallies well with the reports. The old lady and Jerome. Remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the bell?&rdquo; I looked about the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. Phenomena! Watson was right. I just wonder&mdash;but the bell?
+      Remember the doctor? 'The greatest day since Columbus.' No, don't cross
+      the room, Harry, I'm a bit leery: A great discovery! I should say it was.
+      How do you account for it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supernatural.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fenton shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means! It's the gateway to the universe&mdash;into Cosmos.&rdquo; His
+      eyes sparkled. &ldquo;My Lord, Harry! Don't you see! Once we control it. The
+      Blind Spot! What is beyond? We saw Chick Watson go. Before our eyes. Where
+      did he go to? It beats death itself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I started across the room, but Hobart caught me with both arms: &ldquo;No, no,
+      no, Harry. My Lord! I don't want to lose you. No! You foolhardly little
+      cuss&mdash;stand back!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw me violently against the wall. The impact quite took my breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the instant the old rush of temper surged up in me. From boyhood we had
+      these moments. Hobart settled himself and awaited the rush that he knew
+      was coming. In his great, calm, brute strength there was still a greatness
+      of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; he was saying, &ldquo;for the love of Heaven, listen to reason! Have we
+      got to have a knock-down and drag-out on this of all nights? Have I got to
+      lick you again? Do you want to roll into the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Why did God curse me with such a temper? On such moments as this I could
+      feel something within me snapping. It was fury and unreason. How I loved
+      him! And yet we had fought a thousand times over just such provocation.
+      Over his shoulders I could see the still open door that led into the
+      street. A heavy form was looming through the opening; out of the corner of
+      my eye I caught the lines of the form stepping out of the shadows&mdash;it
+      crossed the room and stood beside Hobart Fenton. It was Rhamda Avec!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I leaped. The fury of a thousand conflicts&mdash;and the exultation. For
+      the glory of such moments it is well worth dying. One minute flying
+      through the air&mdash;the old catapult tackle&mdash;and the next a
+      crashing of bone and sinew. We rolled over, head on, and across the floor.
+      Curses and execrations; the deep bass voice of Hobart:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold him, Harry! Hold him! That's the way! Hold him! Hold him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We went crashing about the room. He was the slipperiest thing I had ever
+      laid hold of. But he was bone&mdash;bone and sinew; he was a man! I
+      remember the wild thrill of exultation at the discovery. It was battle!
+      And death! The table went over, we went spinning against the wall, a crash
+      of falling bookcases, books and broken glass, a scurry and a flying heap
+      of legs and arms. He was wonderfully strong and active, like a panther.
+      Each time I held him he would twist out like a cat, straighten, and throw
+      me out of hold. I clung on, fighting, striving for a grip, working for the
+      throat. He was a man&mdash;a man! I remembered that he must never get
+      away. He must account for Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the first rush I was a madman. The mere force of my onslaught had borne
+      him down. But in a moment he had recovered and was fighting
+      systematically. As much as he could he kept over on one side of me, always
+      forcing me toward the inner room where Watson had disappeared. In spite of
+      my fury he eluded every effort that I made for a vital part. We rolled,
+      fought, struck and struggled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I could hear Hobart's bass thundering: &ldquo;Over! Over! Under! Look out! Now
+      you've got him! Harry! Harry! Look out! Hold him, for the love of Heaven I
+      see his trick. That's his trick. The Blind Spot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We were rolled clear over, picked, heaved, shoved against the front wall.
+      There were three! The great heaving bulk of Fenton; the fighting tiger
+      between us; and myself! Surely such strength was not human; we could not
+      pin him; his quickness was uncanny; he would uncoil, twist himself and
+      throw us loose. Gradually he worked us away from the front wall and into
+      the centre of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Could any mere man fight so? Hobart was as good as a ton; I was as much
+      for action. Slowly, slowly in spite of our efforts, he was working us
+      towards the Blind Spot. Confident of success, he was over, around, and in
+      and under. In a spin of a second he went into the attack. He fairly bore
+      us off our feet. We were on the last inch of our line; the stake was&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was it? We all went down. A great volume of sound! We were inside a
+      bell! My whole head buzzed to music and a roar; the whir of a thousand
+      vibrations; the inside of sound. I fell face downwards; the room went
+      black.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was it? How long I lay there I don't know. A dim light was burning. I
+      was in a room. The ceiling overhead was worked in a grotesque pattern; I
+      could not make it out. My clothes were in tatters and my hand was covered
+      with blood. Something warm was trickling down my face. What was it? The
+      air was still and sodden. Who was this man beside me? And what was this
+      smell of roses?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I lay still for a minute, thinking. Ah, yes! It came back. Watson&mdash;Chick
+      Watson! The Blind Spot! The Rhamda and the bell!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Surely it was a dream. How could all this be in one short night? It was
+      like a nightmare and impossible. I raised up on my elbow and looked at the
+      form beside me. It was Hobart Fenton. He was unconscious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment my mind was whirring; I was too weak and unsteady. I dropped
+      back and wondered absently at the roses. Roses meant perfume, and perfume
+      meant a woman. What could&mdash;something touched my face&mdash;something
+      soft; it plucked tenderly at my tangled hair and drew it away from my
+      forehead. It was the hand of a woman!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You poor, foolish boy! You foolish boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Somewhere I had heard that voice; it held a touch of sadness; it was
+      familiar; it was soft and silken like music that might have been woven out
+      of the moonbeams. Who was it that always made me think of moonbeams? I lay
+      still, thinking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He dared; he dared; he dared!&rdquo; she was saying. &ldquo;As if there were not two!
+      He shall pay for this! Am I to be a plaything? You poor boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then I remembered. I looked up. It was the Nervina. She was stooping over
+      with my head against her. How beautiful her eyes were! In their depths was
+      a pathos and a tenderness that was past a woman's, the same slight droop
+      at the corners of the mouth, and the wistfulness; her features were
+      relaxed like a mother's&mdash;a wondrous sweetness and pity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;where is Watson? Did he go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Into the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. What is the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She ignored the question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;So sorry. I would have saved him. And the
+      Rhamda; was he here, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I nodded. Her eyes flashed wickedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;and you&mdash;tell me, did you fight with the Rhamda? You&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Watson,&rdquo; I interrupted. &ldquo;This Rhamda is behind it all. He is the
+      villain. He can fight like a tiger; whoever he is he can fight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She frowned slightly; she shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You young men,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You young men! You are all alike! Why must it
+      be? I am so sorry. And you fought with the Rhamda? You could not overcome
+      him, of course. But tell me, how could you resist him? What did you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What did she mean? I had felt his flesh and muscle. He was a man. Why
+      could he not be conquered&mdash;not be resisted?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;He is a man. I fought him. He was here.
+      Let him account for Watson. We fought alone at first, until he tried to
+      throw me into this Thing. Then Hobart stepped in. Once I thought we had
+      him, but he was too slippery. He came near putting us both in. I don't
+      know. Something happened&mdash;a bell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her hand was on my arm, she clutched it tightly, she swallowed hard; in
+      her eyes flashed the fire that I had noticed once before, the softness
+      died out, and their glint was almost terrible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He! The bell saved you? He would dare to throw you into the Blind Spot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I lay back. I was terribly weak and uncertain. This beautiful woman! What
+      was her interest in myself?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she spoke, &ldquo;let me ask you. I am your friend. If you only knew! I
+      would save you. It must not be. Will you give me the ring? If I could only
+      tell you! You must not have it. It is death&mdash;yes, worse than death.
+      No man may wear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So that was it. Again and so soon I was to be tempted. Was her concern
+      feigned or real? Why did she call me Harry? Why did I not resent it? She
+      was wonderful; she was beautiful; she was pure. Was it merely a subtle act
+      for the Rhamda? I could still hear Watson's voice ringing out of the Blind
+      Spot; &ldquo;Hold the ring! Hold the ring!&rdquo; I could not be false to my friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me first,&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;Who is this Rhamda? What is he? Is he a man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not a man! I remembered Watson's words: &ldquo;A phantom!&rdquo; How could it be? At
+      least I would find out what I could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then tell me, what is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She smiled faintly; again the elusive tenderness lingered about her lips,
+      the wistful droop at the corners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I may not tell you, Harry. You couldn't understand. If only I
+      could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Certainly I couldn't understand her evasion. I studied and watched her&mdash;her
+      wondrous hair, the perfection of her throat, the curve of her bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he is supernatural.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not that, Harry. That would explain everything. One cannot go above
+      Nature. He is living just as you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I studied a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you a woman?&rdquo; I asked suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps I should not have asked it; she was so sad and beautiful, somehow
+      I could not doubt her sincerity. There was a burden at the back of her
+      sadness, some great yearning unsatisfied, unattainable. She dropped her
+      head. The hand upon my arm quivered and clutched spasmodically; I caught
+      the least sound of a sob. When I looked up her eyes were wet and
+      sparkling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Harry, why do you ask it? A woman! Harry, a woman! To
+      live and love and to be loved. What must it be? There is so much of life
+      that is sweet and pure. I love it&mdash;I love it! I can have everything
+      but the most exalted thing of all. I can live, see, enjoy, think, but I
+      cannot have love. You knew it from the first. How did you know it? You
+      said&mdash;Ah, it is true! I am out of the moonbeams.&rdquo; She controlled
+      herself suddenly. &ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; she said simply. &ldquo;But you can never
+      understand. May I have the ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was like a dream&mdash;her beauty, her voice, everything. But I could
+      still hear Watson. I was to be tempted, cajoled, flattered. What was this
+      story out of the moonbeams? Certainly she was the most beautiful girl I
+      had ever seen. Why had I asked such a question?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall keep the ring,&rdquo; I answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sighed. A strange weakness came over me; I was drowsy; I lapsed again
+      into unconsciousness; just as I was fading away I heard her speaking: &ldquo;I
+      am so sorry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI. &mdash; BAFFLED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Was it a dream? The next I knew somebody was dousing water down my neck.
+      It was Hobart Fenton. &ldquo;Lord,&rdquo; he was saying, &ldquo;I thought you were never
+      coming to. What hit us? You are pretty well cut up. That was some fight.
+      This Rhamda, who is he? Can you figure him out? Did you hear that bell?
+      What was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I sat up. &ldquo;Where is the Nervina?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;The who?&rdquo; He was bewildered.
+      &ldquo;Oh, down at the cafe, I suppose. Thought you had forgotten her. Wasn't
+      her mate enough? It might be healthy to forget his Nervina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a fine sight; his clothes were in ribbons; his plump figure was
+      breaking out at the seams. He regarded me critically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What d'you think of the Blind Spot?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Who is the Rhamda? He put
+      us out pretty easily.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the girl?&rdquo; I interrupted. &ldquo;The girl? Confound it, the girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was sometime before I could make him understand; even then he refused
+      to believe me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was all a dream,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;all a dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But I was certain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fenton began prodding about the room. I do not believe any apartment was
+      ever so thoroughly ransacked. We even tore up the carpet. When we were
+      through he sat in the midst of the debris and wiped his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no use, Harry&mdash;no use. We might have known better. It can't be
+      done. Yet you say you saw a string of incandescence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A single string; the form of Watson; a blur&mdash;then nothing,&rdquo; I
+      answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He thought. He quoted the professor:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Out of the occult I shall bring you the proof and the substance. It will
+      be concrete&mdash;within the reach of your senses.' Isn't that what the
+      doctor said?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you believe Professor Holcomb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? Didn't we see it? I know a deal of material science; but nothing
+      like this. I always had faith in Dr. Holcomb. After all, it's not
+      impossible. First we must go over the house thoroughly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We did. Most of all, we were interested in that bell. We did not think,
+      either of us, that so much noise could come out of nothing. It was too
+      material. The other we could credit to the occult; but not the sound. It
+      had drowned our consciousness; perhaps it had saved us from the Rhamda.
+      But we found nothing. We went over the house systematically. It was much
+      as it had been previously described, only now a bit more furnished. The
+      same dank, musty smell and the same suggestive silence. We returned to the
+      lower floor and the library. It was a sorry sight. We straightened up the
+      shelves and returned the books to their places.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was getting along toward morning. Hobart sailed at nine o'clock. We
+      must have new clothing and some coffee; likewise we must collect our wits.
+      I had the ring, and had given my pledge to Watson. I was muddled. We must
+      get down to sane action. First of all we must return to our rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fog had grown thicker; one could almost taste it. I couldn't suppress
+      a shudder. It was cold, dank, repressive. Neither of us spoke a word on
+      our way downtown. Hobart opened the door to our apartment; he turned on
+      the lights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few moments we had hot, steaming cups of coffee. Still we did not
+      speak. Hobart sat in his chair, his elbows on the table and his head
+      between his hands. My thoughts ran back to that day in college when he
+      said &ldquo;I was just thinking, Harry, if I had one hundred thousand dollars, I
+      would solve the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was long ago. We had neither of us thought that we would come to the
+      fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; I spoke, &ldquo;have you got that hundred thousand dollars? You had an
+      idea once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up. &ldquo;I've got it yet. I am not certain. It is merely a theory.
+      But it's not impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took another drink of coffee and settled back in his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is energy, Harry&mdash;force. Nothing but energy&mdash;and Nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it's not occult?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly it is. I didn't say that. It is what the professor promised.
+      Something concrete for our senses. If the occult is, it can certainly be
+      proven. The professor was right. It is energy, force, vibration. It has a
+      law. The old doctor was caught somehow. We must watch our step and see
+      that we aren't swallowed up also. Perhaps we shall go the way of Watson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I shuddered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope not. But explain. You speak in volumes. Come back to earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's easy, Harry. I can give you my theory in a few short words. You've
+      studied physiology, haven't you? Well, that's where you can get your proof&mdash;or
+      rather let me say my theory. What is the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In optics?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll forgo that,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;I refer to this one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I thought for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;I don't know. It was something I couldn't see. Watson
+      went out before our eyes. He was lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. Do you get the point?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is this. What you see is merely energy. Your eye is merely a machine.
+      It catches certain colours. Which in turn are merely rates of vibration.
+      There is nothing to matter but force, Harry; if we could get down deep
+      enough and know a few laws, we could transmute it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has it to do with the occult?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merely a fact. The eye machine catches only certain vibration speeds of
+      energy. There are undoubtedly any number of speeds; the eye cannot see
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then this would account for the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. A localised spot, a condition, a combination of phenomena,
+      anything entering it becomes invisible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where does it go to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it. Where? It's one of the things that man has been guessing at
+      down the ages. The professor is the first philosopher with sound sense. He
+      went after it. It's a pity he was trapped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the Rhamda?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Undoubtedly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do I know? Where did he come from? If we knew that, we would know
+      everything. 'A phantom,' so Watson says. If so, it only strengthens our
+      theory. It would make a man and matter only a part of creation. Certainly
+      it would clear up a lot of doubts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It controls the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's for us to find out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Watson? He is in this land of doubt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least he is in the Blind Spot. Let me try the ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He struck a match.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was much as it had been in the restaurant, only a bit more startling.
+      Then the blue faded, the colour went out, and it became transparent. For a
+      moment. There was an effect of space and distance that I had not noted
+      before, almost marvellous. If I could describe it at all, I would say a
+      crystal corridor of a vastness that can scarcely be imagined. It made one
+      dizzy, even in that bit of jewel: one lost proportion, it was height,
+      distance, space immeasurable. For an instant. Then the whole thing blurred
+      and clouded. Something passed across the face; the transparency turned to
+      opaqueness, and then&mdash;two men. It was as sudden as a flash&mdash;the
+      materialisation. There was no question. They were alive. Watson was with
+      the professor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strange moment. Only an hour before one of them had been with us.
+      It was Watson, beyond a doubt. He was alive; one could almost believe him
+      in the jewel. We had heard his story: &ldquo;The screen of the occult; the
+      curtain of shadow.&rdquo; We had seen him go. There was an element of horror in
+      the thing, and of fascination. The great professor! The faithful Watson!
+      Where had they gone?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not until the colour had come back and the blue had regained its
+      lustre that either of us looked up. Could such a thing be unravelled?
+      Fenton turned the stone over thoughtfully. He shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that jewel, Harry, lies the secret. I wish I knew a bit more about
+      physics, light, force, energy, vibration. We have got to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your theory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It still holds good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me get it clear, Hobart. You say that we catch only certain
+      vibrations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it. Our eyes are instruments, nothing else. We can see light, but
+      we cannot hear it. We hear sound, but we cannot see it. Of course they are
+      not exactly parallel. But it serves the point. Let's go a bit further. The
+      eye picks up certain vibrations. Light is nothing but energy vibrating at
+      a tremendous speed. It has to be just so high for the eye to pick it up. A
+      great deal we do not get. For instance, we can only catch one-twelfth of
+      the solar spectrum. Until recently we have believed only what we could
+      see. Science has pulled us out of the rut. It may pull us through the
+      Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And beyond.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart held up his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is almost too much to believe. We have made a discovery. We must watch
+      our step. We must not lose. The work of Dr. Holcomb shall not go for
+      nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He consulted his watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have only a short time left. We must map our action. We have three
+      things to work on&mdash;the ring, the house, Bertha Holcomb. It's all up
+      to you, Harry. Find out all that is possible; but go slow. Trace down that
+      ring; find out everything that you can. Go and see Bertha Holcomb. Perhaps
+      she can give you some data. Watson said no; but perhaps you may uncover
+      it. Take the ring to a lapidary; but don't let him cut it. Last of all,
+      and most important, buy the house of the Blind Spot. Draw on me. Let me
+      pay half, anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall move into it,&rdquo; I answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated a bit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid of that,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Well, if you wish. Only be careful.
+      Remember I shall return just as soon as I can get loose. If you feel
+      yourself slipping or anything happens, send me a cable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hours passed all too quickly. When day came we had our breakfast and
+      hurried down to the pier. It was hard to have him go. His last words were
+      like Hobart Fenton. He repeated the warning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Watch your step, Harry; watch your step. Take things easy; be cautious.
+      Get the house. Trace down the ring. Be sure of yourself. Keep me informed.
+      If you need me, cable. I'll come if I have to swim.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His last words; and not a year ago. It seems now like a lifetime. As I
+      stood upon the pier and watched the ship slipping into the water, I felt
+      it coming upon me. It had grown steadily, a gloom and oppression not to be
+      thwarted; it is silent and subtle and past defining&mdash;like shadow. The
+      grey, heavy heave of the water; the great hull of the steamer backing into
+      the bay; the gloom of the fog bank. A few uncertain lines, the shrill of
+      the siren, the mist settling; I was alone. It was isolation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had been warned by Watson. But I had not guessed. At the moment I sensed
+      it. It was the beginning. Out of my heart I could feel it&mdash;solitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the great and populous city I was to be alone, in all its teeming life
+      I was to be a stranger. It has been almost a year&mdash;a year! It has
+      been a lifetime. A breaking down of life!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have waited and fought and sought to conquer. One cannot fight against
+      shadow. It is merciless and inexorable. There are secrets that may be
+      locked forever. It was my duty, my pledge to Watson, what I owed to the
+      professor. I have hung on grimly; what the end will be I do not know. I
+      have cabled for Fenton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII. &mdash; A DEAL IN PROPERTY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      But to return. There was work that I should do&mdash;much work if I was
+      going after the solution. In the first place, there was the house. I
+      turned my back to the waterfront and entered the city. The streets were
+      packed, the commerce of man jostled and threaded along the highways; there
+      was life and action, hope, ambition. It was what I had loved so well. Yet
+      now it was different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I realised it vaguely, and wondered. This feeling of aloofness? It was
+      intrinsic, coming from within, like the withering of one's marrow. I
+      laughed at my foreboding; it was not natural; I tried to shake myself
+      together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had no difficulty with the records. In less than an hour I traced out
+      the owners, &ldquo;an estate,&rdquo; and had located the agent. It just so happened
+      that he was a man with whom I had some acquaintance. We were not long in
+      coming to business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The house at No. 288 Chatterton Place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I noticed that he was startled; there was a bit of wonder in his look&mdash;a
+      quizzical alertness. He motioned me to a chair and closed the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Mr. Wendel; sit down. H-m! The house at No. 288 Chatterton
+      Place? Did I hear you right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again I noted the wonder; his manner was cautious and curious. I nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Want to buy it or just lease it? Pardon me, but you are sort of a friend.
+      I would not like to lose your friendship for the sake of a mere sale. What
+      is your&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just for a residence,&rdquo; I insisted. &ldquo;A place to live in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. Know anything about this place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He fumbled with some papers. For an agent he did not strike me as being
+      very solicitous for a commission.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;in a way, yes. A whole lot more than I'd like to. It all
+      depends. One gets much from hearsay. What I know is mostly rumour.&rdquo; He
+      began marking with a pencil. &ldquo;Of course I don't believe it. Nevertheless I
+      would hardly recommend it to a friend as a residence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And these rumours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up; for a moment he studied; then:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ever hear of the Blind Spot? Perhaps you remember Dr. Holcomb&mdash;in
+      1905, before the 'quake. It was a murder. The papers were full of it at
+      the time; since then it has been occasionally featured in the supplements.
+      I do not believe in the story; but I can trust to facts. The last seen of
+      Dr. Holcomb was in this house. It is called the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you believe in the story?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you know it, eh? No, I do not. It's all bunkum; reporters' work and
+      exaggeration. If you like that kind of stuff, it's weird and interesting.
+      But it hurts property. The man was undoubtedly murdered. The tale hangs
+      over the house. It's impossible to dispose of the place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why not sell it to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He dropped his pencil; he was a bit nervous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A fair question, Mr. Wendel&mdash;a very fair question. Well, now, why
+      don't I? Perhaps I shall. There's no telling. But I'd rather not. Do you
+      know, a year ago I would have jumped at an offer. Fact is, I did lease it&mdash;the
+      lease ran out yesterday&mdash;to a man named Watson. I don't believe a
+      thing in this nonsense; but what I have seen during the past year has
+      tested my nerve considerably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What about Watson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Watson? A year ago he came to see me in regard to this Chatterton
+      property. Wanted to lease it. Was interested in the case of Dr. Holcomb;
+      asked for a year's rental and the privilege of renewal. I don't know. I
+      gave it to him; but when he drops in again I am going to fight almighty
+      hard against letting him hold it longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Why, because I don't believe in murder. A year ago he came to me the
+      healthiest and happiest man I ever saw; today he is a shadow. I watched
+      that boy go down. Understand, I don't believe a damn word I'm saying; but
+      I have seen it. It's that cursed house. I say no, when I reason; but it
+      keeps on my nerves; it's on my conscience. It is insidious. Every month
+      when he came here I could see disintegration. It's pitiful to see a young
+      man stripped of life like that; forlorn, hopeless, gone. He has never told
+      me what it is; but I have wondered. A battle; some conflict with&mdash;there
+      I go again. It's on my nerves, I tell you, on my nerves. If this keeps up
+      I'll burn it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a bit foreboding. Already I could feel the tugging at my heart that
+      had done for Watson. This man had watched my friend slipping into the
+      shadow; I had come to take his place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Watson has gone,&rdquo; I said simply; &ldquo;and that's why I am here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He straightened up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know him then. He was not&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He went last night; he has left the country. He was in very poor health.
+      That's why I am here. I know very well the cloud that hangs over the
+      property; it is my sole reason for purchasing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't believe in this nonsense?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I smiled. Certainly the man was perverse in his agnosticism; he was
+      stubborn in disbelief. It was on his nerves; on his conscience; he was
+      afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe nothing,&rdquo; I answered; &ldquo;neither do I disbelieve. I know all the
+      story that has been told or written. I am a friend of Watson. You need not
+      scruple in making me out a bill of sale. It's my own funeral. I abide by
+      the consequences.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave a sigh of relief. After all, he was human. He had honour; but it
+      was after the brand of Pontius Pilate. He wished nothing on his
+      conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Armed with the keys and the legal title, I took possession. In the
+      daylight it was much as it had been the night before. Once across its
+      threshold, one was in dank and furtive suppression; the air was heavy; a
+      mould of age had streaked the walls and gloomed the shadows. I put up all
+      the curtains to let in the rush of sunlight, likewise I opened the
+      windows. If there is anything to beat down sin, it is the open measure of
+      broad daylight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The house was well situated; from the front windows one could look down
+      the street and out at the blue bay beyond the city. The fog had lifted and
+      the sun was shining upon the water. I could make out the ferryboats, the
+      islands, and the long piers that lead to Oakland, and still farther beyond
+      the hills of Berkeley. It was a long time since those days in college.
+      Under the shadow of those hills I had first met the old doctor. I was only
+      a boy then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I turned into the building. Even the sound of my footsteps was foreign;
+      the whole place was pregnant with stillness and shadow; life was gone out.
+      It was fearful; I felt the terror clutching upon me, a grimness that may
+      not be spoken; there was something breaking within me. I had pledged
+      myself for a year. Frankly I was afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But I had given my word. I returned to my apartments and began that very
+      day the closing down of my practice. In a fortnight I had completed
+      everything and had moved my things to the room of Chick Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII. &mdash; ALBERT JEROME
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Just as soon as possible I hurried over to Berkeley. I went straight to
+      the bungalow on Dwight Way; I inquired for Miss Holcomb. She was a woman
+      now in her late twenties, decidedly pretty, a blonde, and of intelligent
+      bearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Coming on such an errand, I was at a loss just how to approach her. I
+      noted the little lines about the corners of her eyes, the sad droop of her
+      pretty mouth. Plainly she was worried. As I was removing my hat she caught
+      sight of the ring upon my finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;then you come from Mr. Watson. How is Chick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Watson&rdquo;&mdash;I did not like lying, but I could not but feel for her;
+      she had already lost her father&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Watson has gone on a trip
+      up-country&mdash;with Jerome. He was not feeling well. He has left this
+      ring with me. I have come for a bit of information.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bit her lips; her mouth quivered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't you get this from Mr. Watson? He knows about the stone. Didn't
+      he tell you? How did it come into your possession? What has happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her voice was querulous and suspicious. I had endeavoured to deceive her
+      for her own sake; she had suffered enough already. I could not but wince
+      at the pain in her eyes. She stood up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, Mr. Wendel; don't be clumsy. Don't regard me as a mere baby. Tell
+      me what has happened to Chick. Please&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped in a flow of emotion. Tears came to her eyes; but she held
+      control. She sat down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me all, Mr. Wendel. It is what I expected.&rdquo; She blinked to hold back
+      her tears. &ldquo;It is my fault. You wouldn't have the ring had nothing
+      happened. Tell me. I can be brave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And brave she was&mdash;splendid. With the tug at my own heart I could
+      understand her. What uncertainty and dread she must have been under! I had
+      been in it but a few days; already I could feel the weight. At no time
+      could I surmount the isolation; there was something going from me minute
+      by minute. With the girl there could be no evasion; it were better that
+      she have the truth. I made a clean breast of the whole affair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he told you no more about the ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;He would have told us much more, undoubtedly,
+      had he not&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You saw him go&mdash;you saw this thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is just it, Miss Holcomb. We saw nothing. One minute we were looking
+      at Chick, and the next at nothing. Hobart understood it better than I. At
+      least he forbade my crossing the room. There is a danger point, a spot
+      that may not be crossed. He threw me back. It was then that the Rhamda
+      came upon the scene.&rdquo; She frowned slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me about the Nervina. When Chick spoke of her, I could always feel
+      jealous. Is she beautiful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most beautiful, the most wonderful girl I have ever seen, though I would
+      hardly class her as one to be jealous of. But she wants the ring. I've
+      promised Watson, and of course I shall keep it. But I would like its
+      history.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I can give you some information there,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;The ring,
+      or rather the jewel, was given to father about twenty years ago by a Mr.
+      Kennedy. He had been a pupil of father's when father taught at a local
+      school. He came here often to talk over old times. Father had the jewel
+      set in a ring; but he never wore it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did Watson come to link it up with the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That, I think, was an accident. He was in college, you know, at the time
+      of father's disappearance. In fact, he was in the Ethics class. He came
+      here often, and during one of his visits I showed him the ring. That was
+      several years ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, about a year ago he was here again, and asked to see the jewel. We
+      were to be married, you understand; but I had always put it off because of
+      father. Somehow I felt that he would return. It was in late summer, about
+      September; it was in the evening; it was getting dark. I gave Chick the
+      ring, and stepped into the garden to cut some flowers. I remember that
+      Chick struck a match in the parlour. When I came back he seemed to be
+      excited.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he ask you for the ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. He wanted to wear it. And he suddenly began to talk of father. It
+      was that night that he took it upon himself to find him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. Not before that night? Did he take the ring then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. We went to the opera. I remember it well, because that night was the
+      first time I ever knew Chick to be gloomy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. You know how jolly he always was. When we returned that night he
+      would scarcely say a word. I thought he was sick; but he said he was not;
+      said he just felt that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand. And he kept getting glummer? Did you suspect the jewel? Did
+      he ever tell you anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. He told me nothing, except that he would find father. Of course, I
+      became excited and wanted to know. But he insisted that I couldn't help;
+      that he had a clue, and that it might take time. From that night I saw
+      very little of him. He leased the house on Chatterton Place. He seemed to
+      lose interest in myself; when he did come over he would act queerly. He
+      talked incoherently, and would often make rambling mention of a beautiful
+      girl called Nervina. You say it is the ring? Tell me, Mr. Wendel, what is
+      it? Has it really anything to do with father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it has, Miss Holcomb. And I can understand poor Chick. He is a
+      very brave man. It's a strange jewel and of terrible potency; that much I
+      know. It devitalises; it destroys. I can feel it already. It covers life
+      with a fog of decay. The same solitude has come upon myself. Nevertheless
+      I am certain it has much to do with the Blind Spot. It is a key of some
+      sort. The very interest of the Rhamda and the Nervina tells us that. I
+      think it was through this stone that your father made his discovery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She thought a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hadn't you better return it? While you still have health? If you keep it,
+      it will be only one more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forget, Miss Holcomb, my promise to Chick. I loved your father, and I
+      was fond of Watson. It's a great secret and, if the professor is right,
+      one which man has sought through the ages. I'd be a coward to forgo my
+      duty. If I fail, I have another to take my place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it's horrible. First father; then Chick; now you; and
+      afterwards it will be Mr. Fenton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is our duty,&rdquo; I returned. &ldquo;One by one. Though we may fail, each one of
+      us may pass a bit more on to his successor. In the end we win. It is the
+      way of man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I had my way. She turned over all the data and notes that had been left by
+      the professor; but I never found a thing in them that could be construed
+      to an advantage. My real quest was to trace down the jewel. The man
+      Kennedy's full name was, I learned, Budge Kennedy. He had lived in
+      Oakland. It was late in the afternoon when I parted with Miss Holcomb and
+      started for the city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I remember it well because of a little incident that occurred immediately
+      after our parting. I was just going down the steps when I looked up one of
+      the side streets. A few students were loitering here and there. But there
+      was one who was not a student. I recognised him instantly, and I wondered.
+      It was the Rhamda. This was enough to make me suspicious. But there was
+      one thing more. Farther up the street was another figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I came down the steps the Rhamda moved, and his move was somehow
+      duplicated by the other. In itself this was enough to clear up some of my
+      doubts concerning the phantom. His actions were too simple for an
+      apparition. Only a man would act like that, and a crude one. I didn't know
+      then the nerve of the Rhamda. There was no doubt that I was being
+      shadowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious route to
+      the station. There was no question; one and two they followed. I knew the
+      Rhamda; but who was the other?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the station we purchased tickets, and when the train pulled in I
+      boarded a smoker. The other two took another coach&mdash;the stranger was
+      a thick-set individual with a stubby, grey moustache. On the boat I didn't
+      see them; but at the ferry building I made a test to see that I was
+      followed. I hailed a taxi and gave specific instructions to the driver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drive slowly,&rdquo; I told him. &ldquo;I think we shall be followed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging our
+      wheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerning the Rhamda; but I couldn't
+      understand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and I
+      alighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither stopped. Both
+      disappeared round the corner. I took the numbers; then I went into the
+      house. In about a half hour a car drew up at the curb. I stepped to the
+      window. It was the car that had tracked the Rhamda's. The stubby
+      individual stepped out; without ceremony he ran up the steps and opened
+      the door. It was a bit disconcerting, I think, for both. He was plain and
+      blunt&mdash;and honest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;where's Watson? Who are you? What do you want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;is a question for both of us. Who are you, and what
+      do you want? Where is Watson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then his eyes dropped and his glance fell and eyes widened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My name is Jerome,&rdquo; he said simply. &ldquo;Has something happened to Watson?
+      Who are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We were standing in the library; I made an indication towards the other
+      room. &ldquo;In there,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;My name is Wendel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took off his hat and ran the back of his hand across his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that pair got him, too! I was afraid of them all the while. And I had
+      to be away. Do you know how they did it? What's the working of their game?
+      It's devilish and certainly clever. They played that boy for a year; they
+      knew they would get him in the end. So did I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was a fine lad, a fine lad. I knew this morning when I came down from
+      Nevada that they had him. Found your duds. A stranger. House looked queer.
+      But I had hopes he might have gone over to see his girl. Just thought I'd
+      wander over to Berkeley. Found that bird Rhamda under a palm tree watching
+      the Holcomb bungalow. It was the first time I'd seen him since that day
+      things went amiss with the professor. In about ten minutes you came out. I
+      stayed with him while he tracked you back here; I followed him back down
+      town and lost him. Tell me about Watson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down; during my recital he spoke not a word. He consumed one cigar
+      after another; when I stopped for a moment he merely nodded his head and
+      waited until I continued. He was sturdy and frank, of an iron way and vast
+      common sense. I liked him. When I had finished he remained silent; his
+      grief was of a solid kind! he had liked poor Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It is as I thought. He told you more than he ever told
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He never told you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much. He was a strange lad&mdash;about the loneliest one I've ever
+      seen. There was something about him from the very first that was not
+      natural; I couldn't make him out. You say it is the ring. He always wore
+      it. I laid it to this Rhamda. He was always meeting him. I could never
+      understand it. Try as I would, I could not get a trace of the phantom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The phantom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most assuredly. Would you call him human?&rdquo; His grey eyes were flecked
+      with light. &ldquo;Come now, Mr. Wendel, would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;I don't know. Not after what I have seen. But for all
+      that, I have proof of his sinews. I am inclined to blend the two. There is
+      a law somewhere, a very natural one. The Blind Spot is undoubtedly a
+      combination of phenomena; it has a control. We do not know what it is, or
+      where it leads to; neither do we know the motive of the Rhamda. Who is he?
+      If we knew that, we would know everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall wear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then God help you. I watched Watson. It's plain poison. You have a year;
+      but you had better count on half a year; the first six months aren't so
+      bad; but the last&mdash;it takes a man! Wendel, it takes a man! Already
+      you're eating your heart out. Oh, I know&mdash;you have opened the
+      windows; you want sunshine and air. In six months I shall have to fight to
+      get one open. It gets into the soul; it is stagnation; you die by inches.
+      Better give me the ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This Budge Kennedy,&rdquo; I evaded, &ldquo;we must find him. We have time. One clue
+      may lead us on. Tell me what you know of the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very easy,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;you have it all. I have been here a number of
+      years. You will remember I fell into the case through intuition. I never
+      had any definite proof, outside the professor's disappearance, the old
+      lady, and that bell; unless perhaps it is the Rhamda. But from the
+      beginning I've been positive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Taking that lecture in ethics as a starter, I built up my theory. All the
+      clues lead to this building. It's something that I cannot understand. It's
+      out of the occult. It's a bit too much for me. I moved into the place and
+      waited. I've never forgotten that bell, nor that old lady. You and Fenton
+      are the only ones who have seen the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I had a sudden thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda! I have read that he has the manner of inherent goodness. Is
+      it true? You have conversed with him. I haven't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has. He didn't strike me as a villain. He's intrinsic, noble, out of
+      self. I have often wondered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I smiled. &ldquo;Perhaps we are thinking the same thing. Is this it? The Blind
+      Spot is a secret that man may not attain to. It is unknowable and akin to
+      death. The Rhamda knows it. He couldn't head off the professor. He simply
+      employed Dr. Holcomb's wisdom to trap him; now that he has him secure, he
+      intends to hold him. It is for our own good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. Yet&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was very anxious to put you and Fenton into this very Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. But may it not be that we, too, knew a bit too much?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He couldn't answer that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, we were both of us convinced concerning the Rhamda. It was
+      merely a digression of thought, a conjecture. He might be good; but we
+      were both positive of his villainy. It was his motive, of course, that
+      weighed up his character; could we find that, we would uncover everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV. &mdash; A NEW ELEMENT
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Budge Kennedy was not so easily found. There were many Kennedys. About
+      two-thirds of Ireland had apparently migrated to San Francisco under that
+      name and had lodged in the directory. We went through the lists on both
+      sides of the bay, but found nothing; the old directories had mostly been
+      destroyed by fire or had been thrown away as worthless; but at last we
+      unearthed one. In it we found the name of Budge Kennedy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had two sons&mdash;Patrick and Henry. One of these, Henry, we ran down
+      in the Mission. He was a great, red-headed, broad-shouldered Irishman. He
+      was just eating supper when we called; there were splotches of white
+      plaster on his trousers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I came right to the point: &ldquo;Do you know anything about this?&rdquo; I held out
+      the ring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took it in his fingers; his eyes popped. &ldquo;What, that! Well, I guess I
+      do! Where'd you get it?&rdquo; He called out to the kitchen: &ldquo;Say, Mollie, come
+      here. Here's the old man's jool!&rdquo; He looked at me a bit fearfully. &ldquo;You
+      aren't wearing it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Well, I don't know exactly. I wouldn't wear it for a million
+      dollars. It ain't a jool; it's a piece of the divil. The old man gave it
+      to Dr. Holcomb&mdash;or sold it, I don't know which. He carried it in his
+      pocket once, and he came near dying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unlucky?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it ain't unlucky; it just rips your heart out. It would make you hate
+      your grandmother. Lonesome! Lonesome! I've often heard the old man
+      talking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He sold it to Dr. Holcomb? Do you know why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, yes. 'Twas that the old doc had some scientific work. Dad told him
+      about his jool. One day he took it over to Berkeley. It was some kind of
+      thing that the professor just wanted. He kept it. Dad made him promise not
+      to wear it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. Did your father ever tell you where he got it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes. He often spoke about that. The old man wasn't a plasterer, you
+      know&mdash;just a labourer. He was digging a basement. It was a funny
+      basement&mdash;a sort of blind cellar. There was a stone wall right across
+      the middle, and then there was a door of wood to look like stone. You can
+      go down into the back cellar, but not into the front. If you don't know
+      about the door, you'll never find it. Dad often spoke about that. He was
+      working in the back cellar when he found this. 'Twas sticking in some blue
+      clay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where was this place? Do you remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure. 'Twas in Chatterton Place. Pat and I was kids then; we took the old
+      man's dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know the number?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It didn't have no number; but I know the place. 'Tis a two-story house,
+      and was built in 'ninety-one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I nodded. &ldquo;And afterwards you moved to Oakland?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your father ever speak of the reason for this partition in the
+      cellar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He never knew of one. It was none of his business. He was merely a
+      labourer, and did what he was paid for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know who built it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some old guy. He was a cranky cuss with side-whiskers. He used to wear a
+      stove-pipe hat. I think he was a chemist. Whenever he showed up he would
+      run us kids out of the building. I think he was a bachelor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was all the information he could give, but it was a great deal.
+      Certainly it was more than I had hoped for. The house had been built by a
+      chemist; even in the construction there was mystery. I had never thought
+      of a second cellar; when I had explored the building I had taken the stone
+      wall for granted. It was so with Jerome. It was the first definite clue
+      that really brought us down to earth. What had this chemist to do with the
+      phenomena?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After all, behind everything was lurking the mind of man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We hastened back to the house and into the cellar. By merely sounding
+      along the wall we discovered the door; it was cleverly constructed and for
+      a time defied our efforts; but Jerome got it open by means of a jemmy and
+      a pick. The outside was a clever piece of sham work shaped like stone and
+      smeared over with cement. In the dim light we had missed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We had high expectations. But we were disappointed. The space contained
+      nothing; it was smeared with cobwebs and hairy mould; but outside of a few
+      empty bottles and the gloomy darkness there was nothing. We tapped the
+      walls and floor and ceiling. Beyond all doubt the place once held a
+      secret; if it held it still, it was cleverly hidden. After an hour or two
+      of search we returned to the upper part of the building.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome was not discouraged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're on the right track, Mr. Wendel; if we can only get started. I have
+      an idea. The chemist&mdash;it was in 'ninety-one&mdash;that's more than
+      twenty years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your idea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda. What is the first thing that strikes you? His age. With
+      everyone that sees him it's the same. At first you take him for an old
+      man; if you study him long enough, you are positive that he is in his
+      twenties. May he not be this chemist?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What becomes of the doctor and his Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Blind Spot,&rdquo; answered Jerome, &ldquo;is merely a part of the chemistry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day I hunted up a jeweller. I was careful to choose one with whom I
+      was acquainted. I asked for a private consultation. When we were alone I
+      took the ring from my finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just an opinion,&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;You know gems. Can you tell me anything about
+      this one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He picked it up casually, and turned it over; his mouth puckered. For a
+      minute he studied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That? Well, now.&rdquo; He held it up. &ldquo;Humph. Wait a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it a gem?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it is. At first I thought I knew it right off; but now&mdash;wait
+      a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He reached in the drawer for his glass. He held the stone up for some
+      minutes. His face was a study; queer little wrinkles twisting from the
+      corners of his eyes told his wonder. He did not speak; merely turned the
+      stone round and round. At last he removed his glass and held up the ring.
+      He was quizzical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you get this?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is something I do not care to answer. I wish to know what it is. Is
+      it a gem? If so, what kind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He thought a moment and shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought I knew every gem on earth. But I don't. This is a new one. It
+      is beautiful&mdash;just a moment.&rdquo; He stepped to the door. In a moment
+      another man stepped in. The jeweller motioned towards the ring. The man
+      picked it up and again came the examination. At last he laid the glass and
+      ring both upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you make of it, Henry?&rdquo; asked the jeweller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not me,&rdquo; answered the second one. &ldquo;I never saw one like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as Watson had said. No man had ever identified the jewel. The two
+      men were puzzled; they were interested. The jeweller turned to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you care to leave it with us for a bit; you have no objection to us
+      taking it out of the ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I had not thought of that. I had business down the street. I consulted my
+      watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In half an hour I shall be back. Will that be enough time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was an hour before I returned. The assistant was standing at the door
+      of the office. He spoke something to the one inside and then made an
+      indication to myself. He seemed excited; when I came closer I noted that
+      his face was full of wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've been waiting,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;We didn't examine the stone; it wasn't
+      necessary. It is truly wonderful.&rdquo; He was a short, squat man with a
+      massive forehead. &ldquo;Just step inside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Inside the office the jeweller was sitting beside a table; he was leaning
+      back in his chair; he had his hands clasped over his stomach. He was
+      gazing toward the ceiling; his face was a study, full of wonder and
+      speculation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For an answer he merely raised his finger, pointed towards the ceiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Up there,&rdquo; he spoke. &ldquo;Your jewel or whatever it is. A good thing we
+      weren't in open air. 'Twould be going yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I looked up. Sure enough, against the ceiling was the gem. It was a bit
+      disconcerting, though I will confess that in the first moment I did not
+      catch the full significance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The jeweller closed one eye and studied first myself and then the
+      beautiful thing against the ceiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you make of it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Really I had not made anything; it was a bit of a shock; I hadn't grasped
+      the full impossibility. I didn't answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you see, Mr. Wendel? Impossible! Contrary to nature! Lighter than
+      air. We took it out of the ring and it shot out like a bullet. Thought I'd
+      dropped it. Began looking on the floor. Couldn't find it; looked up and
+      saw Reynolds, here, with his eyes popping out like marbles. He was looking
+      at the ceiling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I thought for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it is not a gem?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;Not if I'm a jeweller. Whoever heard of a
+      stone without weight? It has no gravity, that is, apparently. I doubt
+      whether it is a substance. I don't know what it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was puzzling. I would have given a good deal just then for a few words
+      with Dr. Holcomb. The man, Kennedy, had kept it in his pocket. How had he
+      held it a prisoner? The professor had use for it in some scientific work!
+      No wonder! Certainly it was not a jewel. What could it be? It was solid.
+      It was lighter than air. Could it be a substance? If not; what is it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you advise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In answer the jeweller reached for the telephone. He gave a number.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hello. Say, is Ed there? This is Phil. Tell him to step to the phone.
+      Hello! Say, Ed, I want you to come over on the jump. Something to show
+      you. Too busy! No, you're not. Not for this. I'm going to teach you some
+      chemistry. No; this is serious. What is it? I don't know. What's lighter
+      than air? Lots of things? Oh, I know. But what solid? That's why I'm
+      asking. Come over. All right. At once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hung up the receiver.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My brother,&rdquo; he spoke. &ldquo;It has passed beyond my province and into his. He
+      is a chemist. As an expert he may give you a real opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Surely we needed one. It was against reason. It had taken me completely
+      off my balance. I took a chair and joined the others in the contemplation
+      of the blue dot on the ceiling. We could speculate and conjecture; but
+      there was not one of us deep enough even to start a theory. Plainly it was
+      what should not be. We had been taught physics and science; we had been
+      drilled to fundamentals. If this thing could be, then the foundations upon
+      which we stood were shattered. But one little law! Back in my mind was
+      buzzing the enigma of the Blind Spot. They were woven together. Some law
+      that had eluded the ken of mankind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chemist was a tall man with a hook nose and black eyes that clinched
+      like rivets. He was a bit impatient. He looked keenly at his brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Phil, what is it?&rdquo; He pulled out a watch, &ldquo;I haven't much time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a contrast between them. The jeweller was fat and complacent. He
+      merely sat in his chair, his hand on his waistband and a stubby finger
+      elevated toward the jewel. He seemed to enjoy it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're a chemist, Ed. Here's a test for your wisdom. Can you explain
+      that? No, over here. Above your head. That jewel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the idea? New notion for decoration? Or&rdquo;?&mdash;a bit testily&mdash;&ldquo;is
+      this a joke?&rdquo; He was a serious man; his black eyes and the nose spoke his
+      character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The jeweller laughed gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Ed&mdash;&rdquo; Then he went into explanation; when he was through the
+      chemist was twitching with excitement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get me a ladder. Here, let me get on the table; perhaps I can reach it.
+      Sounds impossible, but if it's so, it's so; it must have an explanation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without ado and in spite of the protests of his brother he stepped upon
+      the polished surface of the table. He was a tall man; he could just barely
+      reach it with the tip of his finger. He could move it; but each time it
+      clung as to a magnet. After a minute of effort he gave it up. When he
+      looked down he was a different man; his black eyes glowed with wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't make it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Get a step-ladder. Strange!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With the ladder it was easy. He plucked it off the ceiling. We pressed
+      about the table. The chemist turned it about with his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he was saying. &ldquo;It's a gem. Apparently. You say it has no
+      gravity. It can't be. Whoop!&rdquo; He let it slip out of his fingers. Again it
+      popped on its way to the ceiling. He caught it with a deft movement of his
+      hand. &ldquo;The devil! Did you ever see! And a solid! Who owns this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That brought it back to me. I explained what I could of the manner of my
+      possession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. Very interesting. Something I've never seen&mdash;and&mdash;frankly&mdash;something
+      strictly against what I've been taught. Nevertheless, it's not impossible.
+      We are witnesses at least. Would you care if I take this over to the
+      laboratory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a new complication. If it were not a jewel there was a chance of
+      its being damaged. I was as anxious as he; but I had been warned as to its
+      possession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't harm it. I'll see to that. I have suspicions and I'd like to
+      verify them. A chemist doesn't blunder across such a thing every day. I am
+      a chemist.&rdquo; His eyes glistened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your suspicions?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A new element.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This gem. A new element. Perhaps that would explain the Blind Spot. It was
+      not exactly of earth. Everything had confirmed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&mdash;A new element? How do you account for it? It defies your laws.
+      Most of your elements are evolved through tedious process. This is picked
+      up by chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is so. But there are still a thousand ways. A meteor, perhaps; a bit
+      of cosmic dust&mdash;there are many shattered comets. Our chemistry is
+      earthly. There are undoubtedly new elements that we don't know of. Perhaps
+      in enormous proportion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I let him have it. It was the only night I had been away from the ring. I
+      may say that it is the only time I have been free from its isolation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I called at his office next day I found he had merely confirmed his
+      suspicions. It defied analysis; there was no reaction. Under all tests it
+      was a stranger. The whole science that had been built up to explain
+      everything had here explained nothing. However there was one thing that he
+      had uncovered&mdash;heat. Perhaps I should say magnetism. It was cold to
+      man. I have spoken about the icy blue of its colour. It was cold even to
+      look at. The chemist placed it in my hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was. The minute it touched my palm I could sense the weird horror of
+      the isolation; the stone was cold. Just like a piece of ice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the first time I had ever had it in direct contact with the
+      flesh. Set in the ring its impulse had always been secondary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You notice it? It is so with me. Now then. Just a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pressed a button. A young lady answered his ring; she glanced first at
+      myself and then at the chemist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Mills, this is Mr. Wendel. He is the owner of the gem. Would you
+      take it in your hand? And please tell Mr. Wendel how it feels&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed; she was a bit perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand&rdquo;&mdash;she turned to me&mdash;&ldquo;we had the same dispute
+      yesterday. See, Mr. White says that it's cold; but it is not. It is warm;
+      almost burning. All the other girls think just as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And all the men as I do,&rdquo; averred the chemist, &ldquo;even Mr. Wendel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it cold to you?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Really&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a turn I hadn't looked for. It was akin to life&mdash;this relation
+      to sex. Could it account for the strange isolation and the weariness? I
+      was a witness to its potency. Watson! I could feel myself dragging under.
+      I had just one question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Miss Mills. Can you sense anything else; I mean beyond its
+      temperature?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled a bit. &ldquo;I don't know what you mean exactly. It is a beautiful
+      stone. I would like to have it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think its possession would make you happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes sparkled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I know it would! I can feel it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was so. Whatever there was in the bit of sapphirine blue, it had life.
+      What was it? It had relation to sex. In the strict line of fact it was
+      impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When we were alone again I turned to the chemist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there anything more you uncovered? Did you see anything in the stone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He frowned. &ldquo;No. Nothing else. This magnetism is the only thing. Is there
+      anything more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now I hadn't said anything about its one great quality. He hadn't stumbled
+      across the image of the two men. I couldn't understand it. I didn't tell
+      him. Perhaps I was wrong. Down inside me I sensed a subtle reason for
+      secrecy. It is hard to explain. It was not perverseness; it was a finer
+      distinction; perhaps it was the influence of the gem. I took it back to
+      the jeweller again and had it reset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XV. &mdash; AGAIN THE NERVINA
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was at this point that I began taking notes. There is something
+      psychological to the Blind Spot, weird and touching on the spirit. I know
+      not what it is; but I can feel it. It impinges on to life. I can sense the
+      ecstasy of horror. I am not afraid. Whatever it is that is dragging me
+      down, it is not evil. My sensations are not normal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the benefit of my successor, if there is to be one, I have made an
+      elaborate detail of notes and comments. After all, the whole thing, when
+      brought down to the end, must fall to the function of science. When Hobart
+      arrives, whatever my fate, he will find a complete and comprehensive
+      record of my sensations. I shall keep it up to the end. Such notes being
+      dry and sometimes confusing I have purposely omitted them from this
+      narrative. But there are some things that must be given to the world. I
+      shall pick out the salient parts and give them chronologically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome stayed with me. Rather I should say he spent the nights with me.
+      Most of the time he was on the elusive trail of the Rhamda. From the
+      minute of our conversation with Kennedy he held to one conviction. He was
+      positive of that chemist back in the nineties. He was certain of the
+      Rhamda. Whatever the weirdness of his theory it would certainly bear
+      investigation. When he was not on the trail over the city he was at work
+      in the cellar. Here we worked together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We dug up the concrete floor and did a bit of mining. I was interested in
+      the formation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the words of Budge Kennedy the bit of jewel had been discovered at
+      the original excavation. We found the blue clay that he spoke of, but
+      nothing else. Jerome dissected every bit of earth carefully. We have spent
+      many hours in that cellar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But most of the time I was alone. When not too worn with the loneliness
+      and weariness I worked at my notes. It has been a hard task from the
+      beginning. Inertia, lack of energy! How much of our life is impulse! What
+      is the secret that backs volition? It has been will&mdash;will-power from
+      the beginning. I must thank my ancestors. Without the strength and
+      character built up through generations, I would have succumbed utterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even as it is I sometimes think I am wrong in following the dictates of
+      Watson. If I were only sure. I have pledged my word and my honour. What
+      did he know? I need all the reserve of character to hold up against the
+      Nervina. From the beginning she has been my opponent. What is her interest
+      in the Blind Spot and myself? Who is she? I cannot think of her as evil.
+      She is too beautiful, too tender; her concern is so real. Sometimes I
+      think of her as my protector, that it is she, and she alone who holds back
+      the power which would engulf me. Once she made a personal appeal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome had gone. I was alone. I had dragged myself to the desk and my
+      notes and data. It was along toward spring and in the first shadows of the
+      early evening. I had turned on the lights. It was the first labour I had
+      done for several days. I had a great deal of work before me. I had begun
+      sometime before to take down my temperature. I was careful of everything
+      now, as much as I could be under the depression. So far I had discerned
+      nothing that could be classed as pathological.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is something subtle about the Nervina. She is much like the Rhamda.
+      Perhaps they are the same. I hear no sound, I have no notion of a door or
+      entrance. Watson had said of the Rhamda, &ldquo;Sometimes you see him, sometimes
+      you don't.&rdquo; It is so with the Nervina. I remember only my working at the
+      data and the sudden movement of a hand upon my desk&mdash;a girl's hand.
+      It was bewildering. I looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had not seen her since that night. It was now eight months&mdash;did I
+      not know, I would have recorded them as years. Her expression was a bit
+      more sad&mdash;and beautiful. The same wonderful glow of her eyes,
+      night-black and tender; the softness that comes from passion, and love,
+      and virtue. The same wistful droop of the perfect mouth. What a wondrous
+      mass of hair she had! I dropped my pen. She took my hand. I could sense
+      the thrill of contact; cool and magnetic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said no more; I did not answer; I was too taken by surprise and
+      wonder. I could feel her concern as I would a mother's. What was her
+      interest in myself? The contact of her hand sent a strange pulse through
+      my vitals; she was so beautiful. Could it be? Watson said he loved her.
+      Could I blame him?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;how long is it to continue?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So that was it. Merely an envoy to accept surrender. I was worn utterly,
+      weary of the world, lonely. But I hadn't given up. I had strength still,
+      and will enough to hold out to the end. Perhaps I was wrong. If I gave her
+      the ring? what then?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;that I must go on. I have given my word. It
+      has been much harder than I expected. This jewel? What has it to do with
+      the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It controls it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does the Rhamda desire it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why doesn't he call for it personally? Why doesn't he make a clean breast
+      of it? It would be much easier. He knows and you know that I am after Dr.
+      Holcomb and Watson. I might even forego the secret. Would he release the
+      doctor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Harry, he would not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. If I gave up the ring it would be merely for my personal safety. I
+      am a coward&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;don't say that. You must give the ring to me&mdash;not to
+      the Rhamda. He must not control the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the Blind Spot? Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she spoke, &ldquo;I cannot. It is not for you or any other mortal. It
+      is a secret that should never have been uncovered. It might be the end. In
+      the hands of the Rhamda it would certainly be the end of mankind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is the Rhamda? Who are you? You are too beautiful to be merely woman.
+      Are you a spirit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pressed my hand ever so slightly. &ldquo;Do I feel like a spirit? I am
+      material as much as you are. We live, see&mdash;everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are not of this world?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes grew sadder; a soft longing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly, Harry, not exactly. It is a long story and a very strange
+      one. I may not tell you. It is for your own good. I am your friend&rdquo;&mdash;her
+      eyes were moist&mdash;&ldquo;I&mdash;don't you see? Oh, I would save you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I did not doubt it. Somehow she was like a girl of dreams, pure as an
+      angel; her wistfulness only deepened her beauty. It came like a shock at
+      the moment. I could love this woman. She was&mdash;what was I thinking? My
+      guilty mind ran back to Charlotte. I had loved her since boyhood. I would
+      be a coward&mdash;then a wild fear. Perhaps of jealousy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda? Is he your husband? You are the same&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;why do you say it?&rdquo; Her eyes snapped and she grew
+      rigid. &ldquo;The Rhamda! My husband! If you only knew. I hate him! We are
+      enemies. It was he who opened the Blind Spot. I am here because he is
+      evil. To watch him. I love your world, I love it all. I would save it. I
+      love&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She dropped her head. Whatever she was, she was not above sobbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I touched her hair; it was of the softest texture I have ever seen; the
+      lustre was like all the beauty of night woven into silk. She loved, loved;
+      I could love&mdash;I was on the point of surrender.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; I asked, &ldquo;just one thing more. If I gave you this ring would
+      you save the doctor and Chick Watson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her head; her eyes glistened; but she did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head. &ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;That cannot be. I can only
+      save you for&mdash;for&mdash;Charlotte.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it vanity in myself? I don't know. It seemed to me that it was hard
+      for her to say it. Frankly, I loved her. I knew it. I loved Charlotte. I
+      loved them both. But I held to my purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are the professor and Watson living?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they conscious?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She nodded. &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I can tell you that. They are living and
+      conscious. You have seen them. They have only one enemy&mdash;the Rhamda.
+      But they must never come out of the Blind Spot. I am their friend and
+      yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden courage came upon me. I remembered my word to Watson. I had loved
+      the old professor. I would save them. If necessary I would follow to the
+      end. Either myself or Fenton. One of us would solve it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall keep the ring,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;I shall avenge them. Somehow, somewhere,
+      I feel that I shall do it. Even if I must follow&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She straightened at that. Her eyes were frightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;why do you say it? It must not be! You would perish! You
+      shall not do it! I must save you. You must not go alone. Three&mdash;it
+      may not be. If you go, I go with you. Perhaps&mdash;oh, Harry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She dropped her head again; her body shook with her sobbing; plainly she
+      was a girl. No real man is ever himself in the presence of a woman's
+      tears. I was again on the point of surrender. Suddenly she looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; she spoke sadly, &ldquo;I have just one thing to ask. You must see
+      Charlotte. You must forget me; we can never&mdash;you love Charlotte. I
+      have seen her; she's a beautiful girl. You haven't written. She is
+      worried. Remember what you mean to her happiness. Will you go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That I could promise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I shall see Charlotte.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose from her chair. I held her hand. Again, as in the restaurant, I
+      lifted it to my lips. She flushed and drew it away. She bit her lip. Her
+      beauty was a kind I could not understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must see Charlotte,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and you must do as she says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that she was gone. There was a car waiting; the last I saw was its
+      winking tail-light dimming into the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVI. &mdash; CHARLOTTE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Left alone, I began thinking of Charlotte. I loved her; of that I was
+      certain. I could not compare her with the Nervina. She was like myself,
+      human. I had known her since boyhood. The other was out of the ether; my
+      love for her was something different; she was of dreams and moonbeams;
+      there was a film about her beauty, illusion; she was of spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I wrote a note to the detective and left it upon my desk. After that I
+      packed a suitcase and hurried to the station. If I was going I would do it
+      at once, I could not trust myself too far. This visit had been like a
+      breath of air; for the moment I was away from the isolation. The
+      loneliness and the weariness! How I dreaded it! I was only free from it
+      for a few moments. On the train it came back upon me and in a manner that
+      was startling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had purchased my ticket. When the conductor came through he passed me.
+      He gathered tickets all about me; but he did not notice me. At first I
+      paid no attention; but when he had gone through the car several times I
+      held up my ticket. He did not stop. It was not until I had touched him
+      that he gave me a bit of attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where have you been sitting?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I pointed to the seat. He frowned slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Did you say you were sitting in that seat? Where did
+      you get on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At Townsend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Queer,&rdquo; he answered; he punched the ticket. &ldquo;Queer. I passed that seat
+      several times. It was empty!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Empty! It was almost a shock. Could it be that my isolation was becoming
+      physical as well as mental? What was this gulf that was widening between
+      myself and my fellows?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the beginning of another phase. I have noticed it many times; on
+      the street, in public places, everywhere. I thread in and out among men.
+      Sometimes they see me, sometimes they don't. It is strange. I feel at
+      times as though I might be vanishing out of the world!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late when I reached my old home; but the lights were still burning.
+      My favourite dog, Queen, was on the veranda. As I came up the steps she
+      growled slightly, but on recognition went into a series of circles about
+      the porch. My father opened the door. I stepped inside. He touched me on
+      the shoulder, his jaw dropped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it as bad as that? How much meaning may be placed in a single
+      intonation! I was weary to the point of exhaustion. The ride upon the
+      train had been too much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My mother came in. For some moments I was busy protesting my health. But
+      it was useless; it wasn't until I had partaken of a few of the old
+      nostrums that I could placate her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Work, work, work, my boy,&rdquo; said my father, &ldquo;nothing but work. It really
+      won't do. You're a shadow. You must take a vacation. Go to the mountains;
+      forget your practice for a short time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I didn't tell them. Why should I? I decided right then it was my own
+      battle. It was enough for me without casting the worry upon others. Yet I
+      could not see Charlotte without calling on my parents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As soon as possible I crossed the street to the Fentons'. Someone had seen
+      me in town. Charlotte was waiting. She was the same beautiful girl I had
+      known so long; the blue eyes, the blonde, wavy mass of hair, the laughing
+      mouth and the gladness. But she was not glad now. It was almost a
+      repetition of what had happened at home, only here a bit more personal.
+      She clung to me almost in terror. I didn't realise I had gone down so
+      much. I knew my weariness; but I hadn't thought my appearance so dejected.
+      I remembered Watson. He had been wan, pale, forlorn. After what brief
+      explanation I could give, I proposed a stroll in the moonlight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a full moon; a wonderful night; we walked down the avenue under the
+      elm trees. Charlotte was beautiful, and worried; she clung to my arm with
+      the eagerness of possession. I could not but compare her with Nervina.
+      There was a contrast; Charlotte was fresh, tender, affectionate, the girl
+      of my boyhood. I had known her all my life; there was no doubt of our
+      love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who was the other? She was something higher, out of mystery, out of life&mdash;almost&mdash;out
+      of the moonbeams. I stopped and looked up. The great full orb was shining.
+      I didn't know that I spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry,&rdquo; asked Charlotte, &ldquo;who is the Nervina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Had I spoken?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know about the Nervina?&rdquo; I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has been to see me. She told me. She said you would be here tonight.
+      I was waiting. She is very beautiful. I never saw anyone like her. She is
+      wonderful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did she say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She! Oh, Harry. Tell me. I have waited. Something has happened. Tell me.
+      You have told me nothing. You are not like the old Harry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me about the Nervina. What did she say? Charlotte, tell me
+      everything. Am I so much different from the old Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She clutched at my arm fearfully; she looked into my eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;how can you say it? You haven't laughed once. You are
+      melancholy; you are pale, drawn, haggard. You keep muttering. You are not
+      the old Harry. Is it this Nervina? At first I thought she loved you; but
+      she does not. She wanted to know all about you, and about our love. She
+      was so interested. What is this danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I didn't answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must tell me. This ring? She said that you must give it to me. What
+      is it?&rdquo; she insisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she ask that? She told you to take the ring? My dear,&rdquo; I asked, &ldquo;if
+      it were the ring and it were so sinister would I be a man to give it to my
+      loved one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would not hurt me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But I would not. Something warned me. It was a ruse to get it out of my
+      possession. The whole thing was haunting, weird, ghostly. Always I could
+      hear Watson. I still had a small quota of courage and will-power. I clung
+      steadfastly to my purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sad three hours. Poor Charlotte! I shall never forget it. It is
+      the hardest task on earth to deny one's loved one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had grown into my heart and into its possession. She clung to me
+      tenderly, tearfully. I could not tell her. Her feminine instinct sensed
+      disaster. In spite of her tears I insisted. When I kissed her goodnight
+      she did not speak. But she looked up at me through her tears. It was the
+      hardest thing of all for me to bear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVII. &mdash; THE SHEPHERD
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When I returned to the city next morning I took my dog. It was a strange
+      whim; but one which was to lead to a remarkable development. I have always
+      been a lover of dogs. I was lonely. There is a bond between a dog and his
+      master. It goes beyond definition; it roots down into nature. I was to
+      learn much.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was an Australian shepherd. She was of a tawny black and bob-tailed
+      from birth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What is the power that lies behind instinct? How far does it go? I had a
+      notion that the dog would be outside the sinister clutch that was dragging
+      me under.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Happily Jerome was fond of dogs. He was reading. When I entered with Queen
+      tugging at the chain he looked up. The dog recognised the heart of the
+      man; when he stooped to pet her she moved her stub tail in an effusion of
+      affectionate acceptance. Jerome had been reading Le Bon's theory on the
+      evolution of force. His researches after the mystery had led him into the
+      depths of speculation; he had become quite a scholar. After our first
+      greeting I unhooked the chain and let Queen have the freedom of the house.
+      I related what had happened. The detective closed the book and sat down.
+      The dog waited a bit for further petting; but missing that she began
+      sniffing about the room. There was nothing strange about it of course. I
+      myself paid not the slightest attention. But the detective was watching.
+      While I was telling my story he was following every movement of the
+      shepherd. Suddenly he held up one finger. I turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Queen. A low growl, guttural and suspicious. She was standing about
+      a foot from the portieres that separated the library from the other room&mdash;where
+      we had lost Watson, and where Jerome had had his experience with the old
+      lady. Tense and rigid, one forepaw held up stealthily, her stub tail erect
+      and the hair along her back bristled. Again the low growl. I caught
+      Jerome's eyes. It was queer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Queen?&rdquo; I spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sound of my voice she wagged her tail and looked round, then
+      stepped between the curtains. Just her head. She drew back; her lips drawn
+      from her teeth, snarling. She was rigid, alert, vitalised. Somehow it made
+      me cold. She was a brave dog; she feared nothing. The detective stepped
+      forward and pulled the curtains apart. The room was empty. We looked into
+      each other's faces. What is there to instinct? What is its range? We could
+      see nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But not to the dog. Her eyes glowed. Hate, fear, terror, her whole body
+      rigid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; I said. I stepped into the room. But I hadn't counted on the
+      dog. With a yelp she was upon me, had me by the calf of the leg and was
+      drawing me back. She stepped in front of me; a low, guttural growl of
+      warning. But there was nothing in that room; of that we were certain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beats me,&rdquo; said the detective. &ldquo;How does she know? Wonder if she would
+      stop me?&rdquo; He stepped forward. It was merely a repetition. She caught him
+      by the trouser-leg and drew him back. She crowded us away from the
+      curtain. It was almost magnetic. We could see nothing, neither could we
+      feel; was it possible that the dog could see beyond us? The detective
+      spoke first:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take her out of the room. Put her in the hall; tie her up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the idea?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merely this; I am going to examine the room. No, I am not afraid. I'll be
+      mighty glad if it does catch me. Anything so long as I get results.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But it did us no good. We examined the room many times that night; both of
+      us. In the end there was nothing, only the weirdness and uncertainty and
+      the magnetic undercurrent which we could feel, but could not fathom. When
+      we called in the dog she stepped to the portieres and commenced her vigil.
+      She crouched slightly behind the curtains, alert, ready, waiting, at her
+      post of honour. From that moment she never left the spot except under
+      compulsion. We could hear her at all times of the night; the low growl,
+      the snarl, the defiance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was a great deal more that we were to learn from the dog. It was
+      Jerome who first called my attention. A small fact at the beginning; but
+      of a strange sequence. This time it was the ring. Queen had the habit that
+      is common to most dogs; she would lick my hand to show her affection. It
+      was nothing in itself; but for one fact&mdash;she always chose the left
+      hand. It was the detective who first noticed it. Always and every
+      opportunity she would lick the jewel. We made a little test to try her. I
+      would remove the ring from one hand to the other; then hold it behind me.
+      She would follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strange fact; but of course not inexplicable. A scent or the
+      attraction of taste might account for it. However, these little tests led
+      to a rather remarkable discovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One night we had called the dog from her vigil. As usual she came to the
+      jewel; by chance I pressed the gem against her head. It was a mere trifle;
+      yet it was of consequence. A few minutes before I had dropped a
+      handkerchief on the opposite side of the room; I was just thinking about
+      picking it up. It was only a small thing, yet it put us on the track of
+      the gem's strangest potency. The dog walked to the handkerchief. She
+      brought it back in her mouth. At first I took it for a pure coincidence. I
+      repeated the experiment with a book. The same result. I looked up at
+      Jerome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; Then when I explained: &ldquo;The dickens! Try it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Over and over again we repeated it, using different articles, pieces of
+      which I was certain she didn't know the name. There was a strange bond
+      between the gem and the intelligence, some strange force emanating from
+      its lustre. On myself it was depressing; on the dog it was life itself. At
+      last Jerome had an inspiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try the Rhamda,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;think of him. Perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was most surprising. Certainly it was remarkable. It was too much like
+      intelligence; a bit too uncanny. At the instant of the thought the dog
+      leaped backward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such a strange transformation; she was naturally gentle. In one instant
+      she had gone mad. Mad? Not in the literal interpretation; but
+      figuratively. She sprang back, snapping; her teeth bared, her hair
+      bristled. Her nostrils drawn. With one bound she leaped between the
+      curtains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome jumped up. With an exclamation he drew the portieres. I was behind
+      him. The dog was standing at the edge of the room, bristling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was empty. What did she see? What?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One thing was certain. Though we were sure of nothing else we were certain
+      of the Rhamda. We could trust the canine's instinct. Every previous
+      experiment we had essayed had been crowned with success. We had here a
+      fact but no explanation. If we could only put things together and extract
+      the law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late when we retired. I could not sleep. The restlessness of the
+      dog held back my slumber. She would growl sullenly, then stir about for a
+      new position; she was never quite still. I could picture her there in the
+      library, behind the curtains, crouched, half resting, half slumbering,
+      always watching. I would awaken in the night and listen; a low guttural
+      warning, a sullen whine&mdash;then stillness. It was the same with my
+      companion. We could never quite understand it. Perhaps we were a bit
+      afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But one can become accustomed to almost anything. It went on for many
+      nights without anything happening, until one night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was dark, exceedingly dark, with neither moon nor starlight; one of
+      those nights of inky intenseness. I cannot say just exactly what woke me.
+      The house was strangely silent and still; the air seemed stretched and
+      laden. It was summer. Perhaps it was the heat. I only knew that I woke
+      suddenly and blinked in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the next room with the door open I could hear the heavy breathing of
+      the detective. A heavy feeling lay against my heart. I had grown
+      accustomed to dread and isolation; but this was different. Perhaps it was
+      premonition. I do not know. And yet I was terribly sleepy; I remember
+      that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I struck a match and looked at my watch on the bureau&mdash;twelve
+      thirty-five. No sound&mdash;not even Queen&mdash;not even a rumble from
+      the streets. I lay back and dropped into slumber. Just as I drifted off to
+      sleep I had a blurring fancy of sound, guttural, whining, fearful&mdash;then
+      suddenly drifting into incoherent rumbling phantasms&mdash;a dream. I
+      awoke suddenly. Someone was speaking. It was Jerome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I was frightened. It was like something clutching out of the darkness. I
+      sat up. I didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. The incoherence of my dream
+      had been external. The library was just below me. I could hear the dog
+      pacing to and fro, and her snarling. Snarling? It was just that. It was
+      something to arouse terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had never growled like that&mdash;I was positive, I could hear her
+      suddenly leap back from the curtains. She barked. Never before had she
+      come to that. Then a sudden lunge into the other room&mdash;a vicious
+      series of snapping barks, yelps&mdash;pandemonium&mdash;I could picture
+      her leaping&mdash;at what? Then suddenly I leaped out of bed. The barks
+      grew faint, faint, fainter&mdash;into the distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the darkness I couldn't find the switch. I bumped into Jerome. We were
+      lost in our confusion. It was a moment before we could find either a match
+      or a switch to turn on the lights. But at last&mdash;I shall not forget
+      that moment; nor Jerome. He was rigid; one arm held aloft, his eyes bulged
+      out. The whole house was full of sound&mdash;full-toned&mdash;vibrant&mdash;magnetic.
+      It was the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I jumped for the stairway, but not so quick as Jerome. With three bounds
+      we were in the library with the lights on. The sound was running down to
+      silence. We tore down the curtains and rushed into the room. It was empty!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was not even the dog. Queen had gone! In a vain rush of grief I
+      began calling and whistling. It was an overwhelming moment. The poor,
+      brave shepherd. She had seen it and rushed into its face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the last night I was to have Jerome. We sat up until daylight. For
+      the thousandth time we went over the house in detail, but there was
+      nothing. Only the ring. At the suggestion of the detective I touched the
+      match to the sapphire. It was the same. The colour diminishing, and the
+      translucent corridors deepening into the distance; then the blur and the
+      coming of shadows&mdash;the men, Watson and the professor&mdash;and my
+      dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the men, only the heads showed; but the dog was full figure; she was
+      sitting, apparently on a pedestal, her tongue was lolling out of her mouth
+      and her face of that gentle intelligence which only the Australian
+      shepherd is heir to. That is all&mdash;no more&mdash;nothing. If we had
+      hoped to discover anything through her medium we were disappointed.
+      Instead of clearing up, the whole thing had grown deeper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have said that it was the last night I was to have Jerome. I didn't know
+      it then. Jerome went out early in the morning. I went to bed. I was not
+      afraid in the daylight. I was certain now that the danger was localised.
+      As long as I kept out of that apartment I had nothing to fear.
+      Nevertheless, the thing was magnetic. A subtle weirdness pervaded the
+      building. I did not sleep soundly. I was lonely; the isolation was
+      crowding on me. In the afternoon I stepped out on the streets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have spoken of my experience with the conductor. On this day I had the
+      certainty of my isolation; it was startling. In the face of what I was and
+      what I had seen it was almost terrifying. It was the first time I thought
+      of sending for Hobart. I had thought I could hold out. The complete
+      suddenness of the thing set me to thinking. I thought of Watson. It was
+      the last phase, the feebleness, the wanness, the inertia! He had been a
+      far stronger man than I in the beginning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I must cable Fenton. While I had still an ego in the presence of men, I
+      must reach out for help. It was a strange thing and inexplicable. I was
+      not invisible. Don't think that. I simply did not individualise. Men
+      didn't notice me&mdash;till I spoke. As if I was imperceptibly losing the
+      essence of self. I still had some hold on the world. While it remained I
+      must get word to Hobart. I did not delay. Straight to the office I went
+      and paid for the cable.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      CANNOT HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER. COME AT ONCE.&mdash;HARRY.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      I was a bit ashamed. I had hoped. I had counted upon myself. I had trusted
+      in the full strength of my individuality. I had been healthy&mdash;strong&mdash;full
+      blooded. On the fullness of vitality one would live forever. There is no
+      tomorrow. It was not a year ago. I was eighty. It had been so with Watson.
+      What was this subtle thing that ate into one's marrow? I had read of
+      banshees, lemures and leprechauns; they were the ghosts and the fairies of
+      ignorance but they were not like this. It was impersonal, hidden,
+      inexorable. It was mystery. And I believed that it was Nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I know it now. Even as I write I can sense the potency of the force about
+      me. Some law, some principle, some force that science has not uncovered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What is that law that shall bridge the chaos between the mystic and the
+      substantial? I am standing on the bridge; and I cannot see it. What is the
+      great law that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb? Who is the Rhamda? Who is
+      the Nervina?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome has not returned. I cannot understand it. It has been a week. I am
+      living on brandy&mdash;not much of anything else&mdash;I am waiting for
+      Fenton. I have taken all my elaborations and notes and put them together.
+      Perhaps I&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (This is the last of the strange document left by Harry Wendel. The
+      following memorandum is written by Charlotte Fenton.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVIII. &mdash; CHARLOTTE'S STORY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I do not know. It is hard to write after what has happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart says that it is why I am to write it. It is to be a plain
+      narrative. Besides, he is very busy and cannot do it himself. There must
+      be some record. I shall do my best and hold out of my writing as much as I
+      can of my emotion. I shall start with the Nervina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first I knew; the first warning. Looking back I cannot but
+      wonder. No person I think who has ever seen the Nervina can do much else;
+      she is so beautiful! Beautiful? Why do I say it? I should be jealous and I
+      should hate her. Yet I do not. Why is it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was about eight months after Hobart had left for South America. I
+      remember those eight months as the longest in my life; because of Harry. I
+      am a girl and I like attention; all girls do. Ordinarily he would come
+      over every fortnight at least. After Hobart had gone he came once only,
+      and of course I resented the inattention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to me that no business could be of enough importance if he
+      really loved me. Even his letters were few and far between. What he wrote
+      were slow and weary and of an undertone that I could not fathom. I&mdash;loved
+      Harry. I could not understand it. I had a thousand fearful thoughts and
+      jealousies; but they were feminine and in no way approximated even the
+      beginning of the truth. Inattention was not like Harry. It was not until
+      the coming of the Nervina that I was afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Afraid? I will not say that&mdash;exactly. It was rather a suspicion, a
+      queer undercurrent of wonder and doubt. The beauty of the girl, her
+      interest in Harry and myself, her concern over this ring, put me a bit on
+      guard. I wondered what this ring had to do with Harry Wendel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not tell me in exact words or in literal explanation; but she
+      managed to convey all too well a lurking impression of its sinister
+      potency. It was something baleful, something the very essence of which
+      would break down the life of one who wore it. Harry had come into its
+      possession by accident and she would save him. She had failed through
+      direct appeal. Now she had come to me. She did not say a word of the Blind
+      Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the next day came Harry. It was really a shock, though I had been
+      warned by the girl. He was not Harry at all, but another. His eyes were
+      dim and they had lost their lustre; when they did show light at all, it
+      was a kind that was a bit fearful. He was wan, worn, and shrunk to a
+      shadow, as if he had gone through a long illness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He said he had not been sick. He maintained that he was quite well
+      physically. And on his finger was the ring of which the girl had spoken.
+      Its value must have been incalculable. Wherever he moved his hand its blue
+      flame cut a path through the darkness. But he said nothing about it. I
+      waited and wondered and was afraid. It was not until our walk under the
+      elm trees that it was mentioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a full moon; a wonderful, mellow moon of summer. He stopped
+      suddenly and gazed up at the orb above us. It seemed to me that his mind
+      was wandering, he held me closely&mdash;tenderly. He was not at all like
+      Harry. There was a missing of self, of individuality; he spoke in
+      abstractions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The maiden of the moonbeams?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What can it mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then I asked him. He has already told of our conversation. It was the
+      ring of which the Nervina had told me. It had to do with the Blind Spot&mdash;the
+      great secret that had taken Dr. Holcomb. He would not give it to me. I
+      worked hard, for even then I was not afraid of it. Something told me&mdash;I
+      must do it to save him. It was weird, and something I could not understand&mdash;but
+      I must do it for Harry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I failed. Though he was broken in every visible way there was one thing as
+      strong as ever&mdash;his honour. He was not afraid; he had been the same
+      in his boyhood. When we parted that night he kissed me. I shall never
+      forget how long he looked into my eyes, nor his sadness. That is all. The
+      next morning he left for San Francisco.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then came the end. A message; abrupt and sudden. It was some time
+      after and put a period to my increasing stress and worry. It read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CITY OF PERU DOCKS TONIGHT AT EIGHT. MEET ME AT THE PIER. HOBART COMING,&mdash;HARRY.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a short message and a bit twisted. In ordinary circumstances he
+      would have motored down and brought me back to greet Hobart. It was a bit
+      strange that I should meet him at the pier. However, I had barely time to
+      get to the city if I hurried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I shall never forget that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was dark when I reached San Francisco. I was a full twenty minutes
+      early at the pier. A few people were waiting. I looked about for Harry. He
+      was to meet me and I was certain that I would find him. But he was not
+      there. Of course there was still time. He was sure to be on hand to greet
+      Hobart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, I had a vague mistrust. Since that strange visit I had not
+      been sure. Harry wasn't well. There was something to this mystery that he
+      had not told me. Why had he asked me to meet him at the pier? Why didn't
+      he come? When the boat docked and he was still missing I was doubly
+      worried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hobart came down the gangplank. He was great, strong, healthy, and it
+      seemed to me in a terrible hurry. He scanned the faces hurriedly and ran
+      over to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's Harry?&rdquo; He kissed me and in the same breath repeated, &ldquo;Where's
+      Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Hobart!&rdquo; I exclaimed. &ldquo;What's the matter with Harry? Tell me. It's
+      something terrible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was afraid. Plainly I could see that! There were lines of anxiety about
+      his eyes. He clutched me by the arm and drew me away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was to meet me here,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;He didn't come. He was to meet me here!
+      Oh, Hobart, I saw him some time ago. He was&mdash;it was not Harry at all!
+      Do you know anything about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a minute he stood still, looking at me. I had never seen Hobart
+      frightened; but at that moment there was that in his eyes which I could
+      not understand. He caught me by the arm and started out almost at a run.
+      There were many people and we dodged in and out among them. Hobart carried
+      a suitcase. He hailed a taxi.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I don't know how I got into the car. It was a blur. I was frightened. Some
+      terrible thing had occurred, and Hobart knew it. I remember a few words
+      spoken to the driver. &ldquo;Speed, speed, no limit; never mind the law&mdash;and
+      Chatterton Place!&rdquo; After that the convulsive jerking over the cobbled
+      streets, a climbing over hills and twisted corners. And Hobart at my side.
+      &ldquo;Faster&mdash;faster,&rdquo; he was saying; &ldquo;faster! My lord, was there ever a
+      car so slow! Harry! Harry!&rdquo; I could hear him breathing a prayer. Another
+      hill; the car turned and came suddenly to a stop! Hobart leaped out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A sombre two-storey house; a light burning in one of the windows, a dim
+      light, almost subdued and uncanny. I had never seen anything so lonely as
+      that light; it was grey, uncertain, scarcely a flicker. Perhaps it was my
+      nerves. I had scarcely strength to climb the steps. Hobart grasped the
+      knob and thrust open the door; I can never forget it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is hard to write. The whole thing! The room; the walls lined with
+      books; the dim, pale light, the faded green carpet, and the man. Pale,
+      worn, almost a shadow of his former self. Was it Harry Wendel? He had aged
+      forty years. He was stooped, withered, exhausted. A bottle of brandy on
+      the desk before him. In his weak, thin hand an empty wineglass. The gem
+      upon his finger glowed with a flame that was almost wicked; it was blue,
+      burning, giving out sparkles of light&mdash;like a colour out of hell. The
+      path of its light was unholy&mdash;it was too much alive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We both sprang forward. Hobart seized him by the shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry, old boy; Harry! Don't you know us? It's Hobart and Charlotte.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was terrible. He didn't seem to know. He looked right at us. But he
+      spoke in abstractions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two,&rdquo; he said. And he listened. &ldquo;Two! Don't you hear it?&rdquo; He caught
+      Hobart by the arm. &ldquo;Now, listen. Two! No, it's three. Did I say three?
+      Can't you hear? It's the old lady. She speaks out of the shadows. There!
+      There! Now, listen. She has been counting to me. Always she says three!
+      Soon it will be four.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What did he mean? What was it about? Who was the old lady? I looked round.
+      I saw no one. Hobart stooped over. Harry began slowly to recognise us. It
+      was as if his mind had wandered and was coming back from a far place. He
+      spoke slowly; his words were incoherent and rambling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you know her. She is the maiden out of the moonbeams.
+      The Rhamda, he is our enemy. Hobart, Charlotte. I know so much. I cannot
+      tell you. You are two hours late. It's a strange thing. I have found it
+      and I think I know. It came suddenly. The discovery of the great
+      professor. Why didn't you come two hours earlier? We might have
+      conquered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He dropped his head upon his arms; then as suddenly he looked up. He drew
+      the ring from his finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give it to Charlotte,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It won't hurt her. Don't touch it
+      yourself. Had I only known. Watson didn't know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He straightened; he was tense, rigid, listening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you hear anything? Listen! Can you hear? It's the old lady. There&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was not a sound; only the rumble of the streets, the ticking of
+      the clock, and our heart-beats. Again he went through the counting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Harry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Charlotte! The ring&mdash;ah, yet it was there, Keep it. Give it to
+      no one. Two hours ago we might have conquered. But I had to keep the ring.
+      It was too much, too powerful; a man may not wear it. Charlotte&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      took my hand and ran the ring upon my finger. &ldquo;Poor Charlotte. Here is the
+      ring. The most wonderful&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he dropped over. He was weak&mdash;there was something going from
+      him minute by minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Water,&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Hobart, some water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was too pitiful. Harry, our Harry&mdash;come to a strait like this!
+      Hobart rushed to another room with the tumbler. I could hear him fumbling.
+      I stooped over Harry. But he held up his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Charlotte, no. You must not. If&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped. Again the strange attention, as if he was listening to
+      something far off in the distance; the pupils of his hollow, worn,
+      lustreless eyes were pin-points. He stood on his feet rigid, quivering;
+      then he held up his hand. &ldquo;Listen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was nothing. It was just as before; merely the murmuring of the
+      city night, and the clock ticking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the dog! D'you hear her? And the old lady. Now listen, 'Two! Now
+      there are two! Three! Three! Now there are three!' There&mdash;now.&rdquo; He
+      turned to me. &ldquo;Can you hear it, Charlotte? No? How strange. Perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;
+       He pointed to the corner of the room. &ldquo;That paper. Will you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I shall always go over that moment. I have thought over it many times and
+      have wondered at the sequence. Had I not stepped across the library, what
+      would have happened?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had stooped to pick up the piece of paper. There came a queer, cracking,
+      snapping sound, almost audible, I have a strange recollection of Harry
+      standing up by the side of the desk&mdash;a flitting vision. An intuition
+      of some terrible force. It was out of nothing&mdash;nowhere&mdash;approaching.
+      I turned about. And I saw it&mdash;the dot of blue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Blue! That is what it was at first. Blue and burning, like the flame of a
+      million jewels centred into a needlepoint. On the ceiling directly above
+      Harry's head. It was scintillating, coruscating, opalescent; but it was
+      blue most of all. It was the colour of life and of death; it was burning,
+      throbbing, concentrated. I tried to scream. But I was frozen with horror.
+      The dot changed colour and went to a dead-blue. It seemed to grow larger
+      and to open. Then it turned to white and dropped like a string of
+      incandescence, touching Harry on the head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was it? It was all so sudden. A door flung open and a swish of
+      rushing silk. A woman! A beautiful girl! The Nervina! It was she!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Never have I seen anyone like her. She was so beautiful. In her face all
+      the compassion a woman is heir to. For scarcely a second she stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Charlotte,&rdquo; she called. &ldquo;Charlotte&mdash;oh, why didn't you save him! He
+      loves you!&rdquo; Then she turned to Harry. &ldquo;It shall not be. He shall not go
+      alone. I shall save him, even beyond&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that she rushed upon Harry. It was all done in an instant. Her arms
+      were outstretched to the dimming form of Harry and the incandescence. The
+      splendid impassioned girl. Their forms intermingled. A blur of her
+      beautiful body and Harry's wan, weary face. A flash of light, a thread of
+      incandescence, a quiver&mdash;and they were gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next I knew was the strong arms of my brother Hobart. He gave me the
+      water he had fetched for Harry. He was terribly upset, but very calm. He
+      held the glass up to my lips. He was speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't worry. Don't worry. I know now. I think I know. I was just in time
+      to see them go. I heard the bell. Harry is safe. It is the Nervina. I
+      shall get Harry. We'll solve the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIX. &mdash; HOBART FENTON TAKES UP THE TALE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Right here at the outset, I had better make a clean breast of something
+      which the reader will very soon suspect, anyhow: I am a plain, unpoetic,
+      blunt-speaking man, trained as a civil engineer, and in most respects
+      totally dissimilar from the man who wrote the first account of the Blind
+      Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harry had already touched upon this. He came of an artistic family. I
+      think he must have taken up law in the hope that the old saying would
+      prove true: &ldquo;The only certain thing about law is its uncertainty.&rdquo; For he
+      dearly loved the mysterious, the unknowable; he liked uncertainty for its
+      excitement: and it is a mighty good thing that he was honest, for he would
+      have made a highly dangerous crook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Observe that I use the past tense in referring to my old friend. I do this
+      in the interests of strict, scientific accuracy, to satisfy those who
+      would contend that, having utterly vanished from sight and sound of man,
+      Harry Wendel is no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in my own heart is the firm conviction that he is still very much
+      alive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within an hour of his astounding disappearance, my sister, Charlotte, and
+      I made our way to an hotel; and despite the terrible nature of what had
+      happened, we managed to get a few hours rest. The following morning
+      Charlotte declared herself quite strong enough to discuss the situation.
+      We lost no time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It will be remembered that I had spent nearly the whole of the preceding
+      year in South America, putting through an irrigation scheme. Thus, I knew
+      little of what had occurred in that interval. On the other hand, Harry and
+      I had never seen fit to take Charlotte into our confidence as, I now see,
+      we should have done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So we fairly pounced upon the manuscript which Harry had left behind. And
+      by the time we had finished reading it, I for one, had reached one solid
+      conclusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm convinced,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;that the stranger&mdash;Rhamda Avec&mdash;is an
+      out-and-out villain. Despite his agreeable ways, I think he was solely and
+      deliberately to blame for Professor Holcomb's disappearance. Consequently,
+      this Rhamda is, in himself, a very valuable clue as to Harry's present
+      predicament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Referring to Harry's notes, I pointed out the fact that, although Avec had
+      often been seen on the streets of San Francisco, yet the police had never
+      been able to lay hands on him. This seemed to indicate that the man might
+      possess the power of actually making himself visible or invisible, at
+      will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only&rdquo;&mdash;I was careful to add&mdash;&ldquo;understand, I don't rank him as a
+      magician, or sorcerer; nothing like that. I'd rather think that he's
+      merely in possession of a scientific secret, no more wonderful in itself
+      than, say, wireless. He's merely got hold of it in advance of the others;
+      that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you think that the woman, too, is human?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Nervina?&rdquo; I hesitated. &ldquo;Perhaps you know more of this part of the
+      thing than I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only know&rdquo;&mdash;slowly&mdash;&ldquo;that she came and told me that Harry was
+      soon to call. And somehow, I never felt jealous of her, Hobart.&rdquo; Then she
+      added: &ldquo;At the same time, I can understand that Harry might&mdash;might
+      have fallen in love with her. She&mdash;she was very beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte is a brave girl. She kept her voice as steady as my own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We next discussed the disappearance of Chick Watson. These details are
+      already familiar to the reader of Harry's story; likewise what happened to
+      Queen, his Australian shepherd. Like the other vanishings, it was followed
+      by a single stroke on that prodigious, invisible bell&mdash;what Harry
+      calls &ldquo;The Bell of the Blind Spot.&rdquo; And he has already mentioned my
+      opinion, that this phenomenon signifies the closing of the portal of the
+      unknown&mdash;the end of the special conditions which produce the bluish
+      spot on the ceiling, the incandescent streak of light, and the vanishing
+      of whoever falls into the affected region. The mere fact that no trace of
+      the bell ever was found has not shaken my opinion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus we reached the final disappearance, that which took away Harry.
+      Charlotte contrived to keep her voice as resolute as before, as she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He and the Nervina vanished together. I turned round just as she rushed
+      in, crying out, 'I can't let you go alone! I'll save you, even beyond.'
+      That's all she said, before&mdash;it happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You saw nothing of the Rhamda then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And we had neither seen nor heard of him since. Until we got in touch with
+      him, one important clue as to Harry's fate was out of our reach. There
+      remained to us just one thread of hope&mdash;the ring, which Charlotte was
+      now wearing on her finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I lit a match and held it to the face of the gem. As happened many times
+      before, the stone exhibited its most astounding quality. As soon as
+      faintly heated, the surface at first clouded, then cleared in a curious
+      fashion, revealing a startling distinct, miniature likeness of the four
+      who had vanished into the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I make no attempt to explain this. Somehow or other, that stone possesses
+      a telescopic quality which brings to a focus, right in front of the
+      beholder's eyes, a tiny &ldquo;close-up&rdquo; of our vanished friends. Also, the gem
+      magnifies what it reveals, so that there is not the slightest doubt that
+      Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson, Queen and Harry Wendel are actually reproduced&mdash;I
+      shall not say, contained&mdash;in that gem. Neither shall I say that they
+      are reflected; they are simply reproduced there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Also, it should be understood that their images are living. Only the heads
+      and shoulders of the men are to be seen; but there is animation of the
+      features, such as cannot be mistaken. Granted that these four vanished in
+      the Blind Spot&mdash;whatever that is&mdash;and granted that this ring is
+      some inexplicable window or vestibule between that locality and this
+      commonplace world of ours, then, manifestly, it would seem that all four
+      are still alive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure of it!&rdquo; declared Charlotte, managing to smile, wistfully, at
+      the living reproduction of her sweetheart. &ldquo;And I think Harry did
+      perfectly right, in handing it to me to keep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if for no other reason than because it behaves so differently with
+      me, than it did with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart, I am inclined to think that this fact is very significant. If
+      Chick had only known of it, he wouldn't have insisted that Harry should
+      wear it; and then&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't be helped,&rdquo; I interrupted quickly. &ldquo;Chick didn't know; he was only
+      certain that someone&mdash;SOMEONE&mdash;must wear the ring; that it
+      mustn't pass out of the possession of humans. Moreover, much as Rhamda
+      Avec may desire it&mdash;and the Nervina, too&mdash;neither can secure it
+      through the use of force. Nobody knows why.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte shivered. &ldquo;I'm afraid there's something spooky about it, after
+      all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of the sort,&rdquo; with a conviction that has never left me. &ldquo;This
+      ring is a perfectly sound fact, as indisputable as the submarine. There's
+      nothing supernatural about it; for that matter, I personally doubt if
+      there's ANYTHING supernatural. Every phenomenon which seems, at first, so
+      wonderful, becomes commonplace enough as soon as explained. Isn't it true
+      that you yourself are already getting used to that ring?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye&mdash;es,&rdquo; reluctantly. &ldquo;That is, partly. If only it were someone
+      other than Harry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; I hurried to say, &ldquo;I only wanted to make it clear that we
+      haven't any witchcraft to deal with. This whole mystery will become plain
+      as day, and that damned soon!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You've got a theory?&rdquo;&mdash;hopefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Several; that's the trouble!&rdquo; I had to admit. &ldquo;I don't know which is best
+      to follow out.&mdash;It may be a spiritualistic thing after all. Or it may
+      fall under the head of 'abnormal psychology'. Nothing but hallucinations,
+      in other words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that won't do!&rdquo;&mdash;evidently distressed. &ldquo;I know what I saw! I'd
+      doubt my reason if I thought I'd only fancied it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So would I. Well, laying aside the spiritualistic theory, there remains
+      the possibility of some hitherto undiscovered scientific secret. And if
+      the Rhamda is in possession of it, then the matter simmers down to a plain
+      case of villainy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how does he do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the whole question. However, I'm sure of this&rdquo;&mdash;I was
+      fingering the ring as I spoke. The reproduction of our friends had faded,
+      now, leaving that dully glowing pale blue light once more. &ldquo;This ring is
+      absolutely real; it's no hallucination. It performs as well in broad
+      daylight as in the night; no special conditions needed. It's neither a
+      fraud nor an illusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In short, this ring is merely a phenomenon which science has not YET
+      explained! That it can and will be explained is strictly up to us! Once we
+      understand its peculiar properties, we can mighty soon rescue Harry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was just then that a most extraordinary thing occurred. It happened
+      so very unexpectedly, so utterly without warning, that it makes me shaky
+      to this day whenever I recall it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the gem on Charlotte's finger&mdash;or rather, from the air
+      surrounding the ring&mdash;came an unmistakable sound. We saw nothing
+      whatever; we only heard. And it was clear, as loud and as startling as
+      though it had occurred right in the room where we were discussing the
+      situation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the sharp, joyous bark of a dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XX. &mdash; THE HOUSE OF MIRACLES
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Looking back over what has just been written, I am sensible of a profound
+      gratitude. I am grateful, both because I have been given the privilege of
+      relating these events, and because I shall not have to leave this
+      wilderness of facts for someone else to explain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Really, if I did not know that I shall have the pleasure of piecing
+      together these phenomena and of setting my finger upon the comparatively
+      simple explanation; if I had to go away and leave this account unfinished,
+      a mere collection of curiosity-provoking mysteries, I should not speak at
+      all. I should leave the whole affair for another to finish, as it ought to
+      be finished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All of which, it will soon appear, I am setting forth largely in order to
+      brace and strengthen myself against what I must now relate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before resuming, however, I should mention one detail which Harry was too
+      modest to mention. He was&mdash;or is&mdash;unusually good-looking. I
+      don't mean to claim that he possessed any Greek-god beauty; such wouldn't
+      gibe with a height of five foot seven. No; his good looks were due to the
+      simple outward expression, through his features, of a certain noble inward
+      quality which would have made the homeliest face attractive. Selfishness
+      will spoil the handsomest features; unselfishness will glorify.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, simply because he had given his word to Chick Watson that he
+      would wear the ring, Harry took upon himself the most dangerous task that
+      any man could assume, and he had lost. But had he known in advance exactly
+      what was going to happen to him, he would have stuck to his word, anyhow.
+      And since there was a sporting risk attached to it, since the thing was
+      not perfectly sure to end tragically, he probably enjoyed the greater part
+      of his experience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But I'm not like that. Frankly, I'm an opportunist; essentially, a
+      practical sort of fellow. I have a great admiration for idealists, but a
+      much greater admiration for results. For instance, I have seldom given my
+      word, even though the matter is unimportant; for I will cheerfully break
+      my word if, later on, it should develop that the keeping of my word would
+      do more harm than good.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I realise perfectly well that it is dangerous ground to tread upon; yet I
+      must refer the reader to what I have accomplished in this world, as proof
+      that my philosophy is not as bad as it looks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I beg nobody's pardon for talking about myself so much at the outset. This
+      account will be utterly incomprehensible if I am not understood. My method
+      of solving the Blind Spot mystery is, when analysed, merely the expression
+      of my personality. My sole idea has been to get RESULTS.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Harry has put it, a proposition must be reduced to concrete form before
+      I will have anything to do with it. If the Blind Spot had been a totally
+      occult affair, demanding that the investigation be conducted under cover
+      of darkness, surrounded by black velvet, crystal spheres and incense;
+      demanding the aid of a clairvoyant or other &ldquo;medium,&rdquo; I should never have
+      gone near it. But as soon as the mystery began to manifest itself in terms
+      that I could understand, appreciate and measure, then I took interest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That is why old Professor Holcomb appealed to me; he had proposed that we
+      prove the occult by physical means. &ldquo;Reduce it to the scope of our five
+      senses,&rdquo; he had said, in effect. From that moment on I was his disciple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have told of hearing that sharp, welcoming bark, emitted either from the
+      gem or from the air surrounding it. This event took place on the front
+      porch of the house at 288 Chatterton Place, as Charlotte and I sat there
+      talking it over. We had taken a suite at the hotel, but had come to the
+      house of the Blind Spot in order to decide upon a course of action. And,
+      in a way, that mysterious barking decided it for us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We returned to the hotel, and gave notice that we would leave the next
+      day. Next, we began to make preparations for moving into the Chatterton
+      Place dwelling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That afternoon, while in the midst of giving orders for furnishings and
+      the like, there at the hotel, I was called to the telephone. It was from a
+      point outside the building.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Fenton?&rdquo;&mdash;in a man's voice. And when I had assured him; &ldquo;You
+      have no reason to recognise my voice. I am&mdash;Rhamda Avec.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda! What do you want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To speak with your sister, Mr. Fenton.&rdquo; Odd how very agreeable the man's
+      tones! &ldquo;Will you kindly call her to the telephone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I saw no objection. However, when Charlotte came to my side I whispered
+      for her to keep the man waiting while I darted out into the corridor and
+      slipped downstairs, where the girl at the switchboard put an instrument
+      into the circuit for me. Money talks. However&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear child,&rdquo; the voice of Avec was saying, &ldquo;you do me an injustice. I
+      have nothing but your welfare at heart. I assure you that if anything
+      should happen to you and your brother while at Chatterton Place, it will
+      be through no fault of mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the same time I can positively assure you that, if you stay away from
+      there, no harm will come to either of you; absolutely none! I can
+      guarantee that. Don't ask me why; but, if you value your safety, stay
+      where you are, or go elsewhere, anywhere other than to the house in
+      Chatterton Place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can hardly agree with you, Mr. Avec.&rdquo; Plainly Charlotte was deeply
+      impressed with the man's sincerity and earnestness. &ldquo;My brother's judgment
+      is so much better than mine, that I&mdash;&rdquo; and she paused regretfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish,&rdquo; with his remarkable gracefulness, &ldquo;that your intuition were
+      as strong as your loyalty to your brother. If it were, you would know that
+      I speak the truth when I say that I have only your welfare at heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I am sorry, Mr. Avec.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fortunately, there is one alternative,&rdquo; even more agreeable than before.
+      &ldquo;If you prefer not to take my advice, but cling to your brother's
+      decision, you can still avoid the consequences of his determination to
+      live in that house. As I say, I cannot prevent harm from befalling you,
+      under present conditions; but these conditions can be completely altered
+      if you will make a single concession, Miss Fenton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you give me the ring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused for a very tense second. I wished I could see his peculiar,
+      young-old face&mdash;the face with the inscrutable eyes; the face that
+      urged, rather than inspired, both curiosity and confidence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he added:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know why you wear it; I realise that the trinket carries some very
+      tender associations. And I would never ask such a concession did I not
+      know, were your beloved here at this moment, he would endorse every word
+      that I say, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry!&rdquo; cried Charlotte, her voice shaking. &ldquo;He would tell me to give it
+      to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure of it! It is as though he, through me, were urging you to do
+      this!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For some moments there was silence. Charlotte must have been tremendously
+      impressed. It certainly was amazing the degree of confidence that Avec's
+      voice induced. I wouldn't have been greatly surprised had my sister&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Avec,&rdquo; came Charlotte's voice, hesitatingly, almost sorrowfully. &ldquo;I&mdash;I
+      would like to believe you; but&mdash;but Harry himself gave me the ring,
+      and I feel&mdash;oh, I'm sure that my brother would never agree to it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand.&rdquo; Somehow the fellow managed to conceal any disappointment
+      he may have felt. He contrived to show only a deep sympathy for Charlotte
+      as he finished: &ldquo;If I find it possible to protect you, I shall, Miss
+      Fenton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After it was all over, and I returned to the rooms, Charlotte and I
+      concluded that it might have been better had we made some sort of
+      compromise. If we had made a partial concession, he might have told us
+      something of the mystery. We ought to have bargained. We decided that if
+      he made any attempt to carry out what I felt sure were merely a thinly
+      veiled threat to punish us for keeping the gem, we must not only be ready
+      for whatever he might do, but try to trap and keep him as well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That same day found us back at Chatterton Place. Inside, there was
+      altogether too much evidence that the place had been bachelors' quarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first step was to clean up. We hired lots of help, and made a quick
+      thorough job of both floors. The basement we left untouched. And the next
+      day we put a force of painters and decorators to work; whereby hangs the
+      tale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Fenton,&rdquo; called the head painter, as he varnished the &ldquo;trim&rdquo; in the
+      parlour, &ldquo;I wish you'd come and see what to make of this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I stepped into the front room. He was pointing to the long piece of finish
+      which spanned the doorway leading into the dining-room. And he indicated a
+      spot almost in the exact middle, a spot covering a space about five inches
+      broad and as high as the width of the wood. In outline it was roughly
+      octagonal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been trying my best,&rdquo; stated Johnson, &ldquo;to varnish that spot for the
+      past five minutes. But I'll be darned if I can do it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he showed what he meant. Every other part of the door glistened with
+      freshly applied varnish; but the octagonal region remained dull, as though
+      no liquid had ever touched it. Johnson dipped his brush into the can, and
+      applied a liberal smear of the fluid to the place. Instantly the stuff
+      disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Blamed porous piece of wood,&rdquo; eyeing me queerly. &ldquo;Or&mdash;do you think
+      it's merely porous, Mr. Fenton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For answer I took a brush and repeatedly daubed the place. It was like
+      dropping ink on a blotter. The wood sucked up the varnish as a desert
+      might suck up water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's about a quart of varnish in the wood already,&rdquo; observed Johnson,
+      as I stared and pondered. &ldquo;Suppose we take it down and weigh it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Inside of a minute we had that piece of trim down from its place. First, I
+      carefully examined the timber framework behind, expecting to see traces of
+      the varnish where, presumably, it had seeped through. There was no sign.
+      Then I inspected the reverse side of the finish, just behind the peculiar
+      spot. I thought I might see a region of wide open pores in the grain of
+      the pine. But the back looked exactly the same as the front, with no
+      difference in the grain at any place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Placing the finish right side up, I proceeded to daub the spot some more.
+      There was no change in the results. At last I took the can, and without
+      stopping, poured a quart and a half of the fluid into that paradoxical
+      little area.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well I'll be darned!&rdquo;&mdash;very loudly from Johnson. But when I looked
+      up I saw his face was white, and his lips shaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His nerves were all a-jangle. To give his mind a rest, I sent him for a
+      hatchet. When he came back his face had regained its colour. I directed
+      him to hold the pine upright, while I, with a single stroke, sank the tool
+      into the end of the wood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It split part way. A jerk, and the wood fell in two halves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; from Johnson, blankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly normal wood, apparently.&rdquo; I had to admit that it was impossible
+      to distinguish the material which constituted the peculiar spot from that
+      which surrounded it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I sent Johnson after more varnish. Also, I secured several other fluids,
+      including water, milk, ink, and machine oil. And when the painter returned
+      we proceeded with a very thorough test indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently it became clear that we were dealing with a phenomenon of the
+      Blind Spot. All told, we poured about nine pints of liquid into an area of
+      about twenty square inches; all on the outer surface, for the split side
+      would absorb nothing. And to all appearances we might have continued to
+      pour indefinitely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten minutes later I went down into the basement to dispose of some
+      rubbish. (Charlotte didn't know of this defection in our housekeeping.) It
+      was bright sunlight outside. Thanks to the basement windows, I needed no
+      artificial luminant. And when my gaze rested upon the ground directly
+      under the parlour, I saw something there that I most certainly had never
+      noticed before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fact is, the basement at 288 Chatterton Place never did possess
+      anything worthy of special notice. Except for the partition which Harry
+      Wendel and Jerome, the detective, were the first in years to penetrate&mdash;except
+      for that secret doorway, there was nothing down there to attract
+      attention. To be sure, there was a quantity of up-turned earth, the result
+      of Jerome's vigorous efforts to see whether or not there was any
+      connection between the Blind Spot phenomena which he had witnessed and the
+      cellar. He had secured nothing but an appetite for all his digging.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, it was still too dark for me to identify what I saw at once. I
+      stood for a few moments, accustoming my eyes to the light. Except that the
+      thing gleamed oddly like a piece of glass, and that it possessed a nearly
+      circular outline about two feet across, I couldn't tell much about it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then I stooped and examined it closely. At once I became conscious of a
+      smell which, somehow, I had hitherto not noticed. Small wonder; it was as
+      indescribable a smell as one could imagine. It seemed to be a combination
+      of several that are not generally combined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next instant it flashed upon me that the predominating odour was a
+      familiar one. I had been smelling it, in fact, all the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this did not prevent me from feeling very queer, indeed, as I realised
+      what lay before me. A curious chill passed around my shoulders, and I
+      scarcely breathed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At my feet lay a pool, composed of all the various liquids that had been
+      poured, upstairs, into that baffling spot in the wood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXI. &mdash; OUT OF THIN AIR
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Except for the incident just related, when several pints of very real
+      fluids were somehow &ldquo;materialised&rdquo; at a spot ten feet below where they had
+      vanished, nothing worth recording occurred during the first seven days of
+      our stay at Chatterton Place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seemingly nothing was to come of the Rhamda's warning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the other hand we succeeded, during that week, in working a complete
+      transformation of the old house. It became one of the brightest spots in
+      San Francisco. It cost a good deal of money, all told, but I could well
+      afford it. I possessed the hundred thousand with which, I had promised
+      myself and Harry, I should solve the Blind Spot. That was what the money
+      was for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the seventh day after the night of Harry's going, our household was
+      increased to three members. For it was then that Jerome returned from
+      Nevada, whence he had gone two weeks before on a case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all surprised,&rdquo; he commented, when I told him of Harry's
+      disappearance. &ldquo;Sorry I wasn't here. That crook, Rhamda Avec, in at the
+      end?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gnawed stolidly at his cigar as I told him the story. Then, after
+      briefly approving what I had done to brighten the house, he announced:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell you what. I've got a little money out of that Nevada case; I'm going
+      to take another vacation and see this thing through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We shook hands on this, and he moved right into his old room. I felt, in
+      fact, mighty glad to have Jerome with us. Although he lacked a regular
+      academic training, he was fifteen years my senior, and because of contact
+      with a wide variety of people in his work, both well-informed and reserved
+      in his judgment. He could not be stampeded; he had courage; and, above
+      everything else, he had the burning curiosity of which Harry has written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was upstairs when he unpacked. And I noted among his belongings a large,
+      rather heavy automatic pistol. He nodded when I asked if he was willing to
+      use it in this case.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Although&rdquo;&mdash;unbuttoning his waistcoat&mdash;&ldquo;I don't pin as much
+      faith to pistols as I used to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda is, I'm convinced, the very cleverest proposition that ever
+      lived. He has means to handle practically anything in the way of
+      resistance.&rdquo; Jerome knew how the fellow had worsted Harry and me. &ldquo;I
+      shouldn't wonder if he can read the mind to some extent; he might be able
+      to foresee that I was going to draw a gun, and beat me to it with some new
+      weapon of his own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having unbuttoned his waistcoat, Jerome then displayed a curious
+      contrivance mounted upon his breast. It consisted of a broad metal plate,
+      strapped across his shirt, and affixed to this plate was a flat-springed
+      arrangement for firing, simultaneously, the contents of a revolver
+      cylinder. To show how it worked, Jerome removed the five cartridges and
+      then faced me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me to throw up my hands,&rdquo; directed he. I did so; his palms flew into
+      the air; and with a steely snap the mechanism was released.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had there been cartridges in it, I should have been riddled, for I stood
+      right in front. And I shuddered as I noted the small straps around
+      Jerome's wrists, running up his sleeves, so disposed that the act of
+      surrendering meant instant death to him who might demand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May not be ethical, Fenton&rdquo;&mdash;quietly&mdash;&ldquo;but it certainly is good
+      sense to shoot first and explain later when you're handling a chap like
+      Avec. Better make preparations, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I objected. I pointed out what I have already mentioned; that, together
+      with the ring, the Rhamda offered our only clues to the Blind Spot.
+      Destroy the man and we would destroy one of our two hopes of rescuing our
+      friends from the unthinkable fate that had overtaken them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&rdquo;&mdash;decisively. &ldquo;We don't want to kill; we want to KEEP him.
+      Bullets won't do. I see no reason, however, why you shouldn't load that
+      thing with cartridges containing chemicals which would have an effect
+      similar to that of a gas bomb. Once you can make him helpless, so that you
+      can put those steel bracelets on him, we'll see how dangerous he is with
+      his hands behind him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I get you&rdquo;&mdash;thoughtfully. &ldquo;I know a chemist who will make up
+      'Paralysis' gas for me, in the form of gelatine capsules. Shoot 'em at the
+      Rhamda; burst upon striking. Safe enough for me, and yet put him out of
+      business long enough to fit him with the jewellery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But I had other notions about handling the Rhamda. Being satisfied that
+      mere strength and agility were valueless against him, I concluded that he,
+      likewise realising this, would be on the lookout for any possible trap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Consequently, if I hoped to keep the man, and force him to tell us what we
+      wanted to know, then I must make use of something other than physical
+      means. Moreover, I gave him credit for an exceptional amount of insight.
+      Call it super-instinct, or what you will, the fellow's intellect was
+      transcendental.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once having decided that it must be a battle of wits I took a step which
+      may seem, at first, a little peculiar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I called upon a certain lady to whom I shall give the name of Clarke,
+      since that is not the correct one. I took her fully and frankly into my
+      confidence. It is the only way, when dealing with a practitioner. And
+      since, like most of my fellow citizens, she had heard something of the
+      come and go, elusive habits of our men, together with the Holcomb affair,
+      it was easy for her to understand just what I wanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; she mused. &ldquo;You wish to be surrounded by an influence that will
+      not so much protect you, as vitalise and strengthen you whenever you come
+      in contact with Avec. It will be a simple matter. How far do you wish to
+      go?&rdquo; And thus it was arranged, the plan calling for the co-operation of
+      some twenty of her colleagues.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My fellow engineers may sneer, if they like. I know the usual notion: that
+      the &ldquo;power of mind over matter&rdquo; is all in the brain of the patient. That
+      the efforts of the practitioner are merely inductive, and so on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But I think that the most sceptical will agree that I did quite right in
+      seeking whatever support I could get before crossing swords with a man as
+      keen as Avec.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nevertheless, before an opportunity arrived to make use of the
+      intellectual machinery which my money had started into operation,
+      something occurred which almost threw the whole thing out of gear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the evening after I had returned from Miss Clarke's office. Both
+      Charlotte and I had a premonition, after supper, that things were going to
+      happen. We all went into the parlour, sat down, and waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently we started the gramophone. Jerome sat nearest the instrument,
+      where he could without rising, lean over and change the records. And all
+      three of us recall that the selection being played at the moment was &ldquo;I Am
+      Climbing Mountains,&rdquo; a sentimental little melody sung by a popular tenor.
+      Certainly the piece was far from being melancholy, mysterious, or
+      otherwise likely to attract the occult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I remember that we played it twice, and it was just as the singer reached
+      the beginning of the final chorus that Charlotte, who sat nearest the
+      door, made a quick move and shivered, as though with cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From where I sat, near the dining-room door, I could see through into the
+      hall. Charlotte's action made me think that the door might have become
+      unlatched, allowing a draught to come through. Afterwards she said that
+      she had felt something rather like a breeze pass her chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the middle of the room stood a long, massive table, of conventional
+      library type. Overhead was a heavy, burnished copper fixture, from which a
+      cluster of electric bulbs threw their brilliance upward, so that the room
+      was evenly lighted with the diffused rays as reflected from the ceiling.
+      Thus, there were no shadows to confuse the problem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chorus of the song was almost through when I heard from the direction
+      of the table a faint sound, as though someone had drawn fingers lightly
+      across the polished oak. I listened; the sound was not repeated, at least
+      not loud enough for me to catch it above the music. Next moment, however,
+      the record came to an end; Jerome leaned forward to put on another, and
+      Charlotte opened her mouth as though to suggest what the new selection
+      might be. But she never said the words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It began with a scintillating iridescence, up on the ceiling, not eight
+      feet from where I sat. As I looked the spot grew, and spread, and flared
+      out. It was blue like the elusive blue of the gem; only, it was more like
+      flame&mdash;the flame of electrical apparatus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, down from that blinding radiance there crept, rather than dropped a
+      single thread of incandescence, vivid, with a tinge of the colour from
+      which it had surged. Down it crept to the floor; it was like an irregular
+      streak of lightning, hanging motionless between ceiling and floor, just
+      for the fraction of a second. All in total silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the radiance vanished, disappeared, snuffed out as one might
+      snuff out a candle. And in its stead&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There appeared a fourth person in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXII. &mdash; THE ROUSING OF A MIND
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was a girl. Not the Nervina. No; this girl was quite another person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even now I find it curiously hard to describe her. For me to say that she
+      was the picture of innocence, of purity, and of youth, is still to leave
+      unsaid the secret of her loveliness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For this stranger, coming out of the thin air into our midst, held me with
+      a glorious fascination. From the first I felt no misgivings, such as Harry
+      confesses he experienced when he fell under the Nervina's charm. I knew as
+      I watched the stranger's wondering, puzzled features, that I had never
+      before seen anyone so lovely, so attractive, and so utterly beyond
+      suspicion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only later that I noted her amazingly delicate complexion, fair as
+      her hair was golden; her deep blue eyes, round face, and the girlish
+      supple figure; or her robe-like garments of very soft, white material. For
+      she commenced almost instantly to talk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But we understood only with the greatest of difficulty. She spoke as might
+      one who, after living in perfect solitude for a score of years, is
+      suddenly called upon to use language. And I remembered that Rhamda Avec
+      had told Jerome that he had only BEGUN the use of language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; was her first remark, in the sweetest voice conceivable.
+      But there was both fear and anxiety in her manner. &ldquo;How&mdash;did I&mdash;get&mdash;here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came out of the Blind Spot!&rdquo; I spoke, jerking out the words nervously
+      and, as I saw, too rapidly. I repeated them more slowly. But she did not
+      comprehend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The&mdash;Blind&mdash;Spot,&rdquo; she pondered. &ldquo;What&mdash;is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next instant, before I could think to warn her, the room trembled with the
+      terrific clang of the Blind Spot bell. Just one overwhelming peal; no
+      more. At the same time there came a revival of the luminous spot in the
+      ceiling. But, with the last tones of the bell, the spot faded to nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was pitifully frightened. I sprang to my feet and steadied her
+      with one hand&mdash;something that I had not dared to do as long as the
+      Spot remained open. The touch of my fingers, as she swayed, had the effect
+      of bringing her to herself. She listened intelligently to what I said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Blind Spot&rdquo;&mdash;speaking with the utmost care&mdash;&ldquo;is the name we
+      have given to a certain mystery. It is always marked by the sound you have
+      just heard; that bell always rings when the phenomenon is at an end.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;the&mdash;phenomenon,&rdquo; uttering the word with difficulty, &ldquo;what
+      is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You,&rdquo; I returned. &ldquo;Up till now three human beings have disappeared into
+      what we call the Blind Spot. You are the first to be seen coming out of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart,&rdquo; interrupted Charlotte, coming to my side. &ldquo;Let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I stepped back, and Charlotte quietly passed an arm round the girl's
+      waist. Together they stepped over to Charlotte's chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I noted the odd way in which the newcomer walked, unsteadily, uncertainly,
+      like a child taking its first steps. I glanced at Jerome, wondering if
+      this tallied with what he recalled of the Rhamda; and he gave a short nod.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be frightened,&rdquo; said Charlotte softly, &ldquo;we are your friends. In a
+      way we have been expecting you, and we shall see to it that no harm comes
+      to you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which would you prefer&mdash;to ask questions, or to answer them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rdquo;&mdash;the girl hesitated&mdash;&ldquo;I&mdash;hardly&mdash;know. Perhaps&mdash;you
+      had&mdash;better&mdash;ask something first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good. Do you remember where you came from? Can you recall the events just
+      prior to your arrival here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl looked helplessly from the one to the other of us. She seemed to
+      be searching for some clue. Finally she shook her head in a hopeless,
+      despairing fashion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't remember,&rdquo; speaking with a shade less difficulty. &ldquo;The last thing&mdash;I
+      recall is&mdash;seeing&mdash;you three&mdash;staring&mdash;at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was a poser. To think, a person who, before our very eyes, had
+      materialised out of the Blind Spot, was unable to tell us anything about
+      it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still this lack of memory might be only a temporary condition, brought on
+      by the special conditions under which she had emerged; an after-effect, as
+      it were, of the semi-electrical phenomena. And it turned out that I was
+      right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; suggested Charlotte, &ldquo;suppose you ask us something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl's eyes stopped roving and rested definitely, steadily, upon my
+      own. And she spoke; still a little hesitantly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you? What is your name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Name?&rdquo; taken wholly by surprise. &ldquo;Ah&mdash;it is Hobart Fenton. And&rdquo;&mdash;automatically&mdash;&ldquo;this
+      is my sister Charlotte. The gentleman over there is Mr. Jerome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad to know you, Hobart,&rdquo; with perfect simplicity and apparent
+      pleasure; &ldquo;and you, Charlotte,&rdquo; passing an arm round my sister's neck;
+      &ldquo;and you&mdash;Mister.&rdquo; Evidently she thought the title of &ldquo;mister&rdquo; to be
+      Jerome's first name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she went on to say, her eyes coming back to mine:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you look at me that way, Hobart?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just like that! I felt my cheeks go hot and cold by turns. For a moment I
+      was helpless; then I made up my mind to be just as frank and candid as
+      she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you're so good to look at!&rdquo; I blurted out. &ldquo;I never appreciated
+      my eyesight as I do right now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad,&rdquo; she returned, simply and absolutely without a trace of
+      confusion or resentment. &ldquo;I know that I rather like to look at you&mdash;too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another stunned silence. And this time I didn't notice any change in the
+      temperature of my face; I was too busily engaged in searching the depths
+      of those warm blue eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She didn't blush, or even drop her eyes. She smiled, however, a gentle,
+      tremulous smile that showed some deep feeling behind her unwavering gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I recovered myself with a start, drew my chair up in front of her and took
+      both her hands firmly in mine. Whereupon my resolution nearly deserted me.
+      How warm and soft, and altogether adorable they were. I drew a long breath
+      and began:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear&mdash;By the way, what is your name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rdquo;&mdash;regretfully, after a moment's thought&mdash;&ldquo;I don't know,
+      Hobart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite so,&rdquo; as though the fact was commonplace. &ldquo;We will have to provide
+      you with a name. Any suggestions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte hesitated only a second. &ldquo;Let's call her Ariadne; it was Harry's
+      mother's name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's so; fine! Do you like the name&mdash;Ariadne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; both pleased and relieved. At the same time she looked oddly
+      puzzled, and I could see her lips moving silently as she repeated the name
+      to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not for an instant did I let go of those wonderful fingers. &ldquo;What I want
+      you to know, Ariadne, is that you have come into a world that is, perhaps,
+      more or less like the one that you have just left. For all I know it is
+      one and the same world, only, in some fashion not yet understood, you may
+      have transported yourself to this place. Perhaps not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, we call this a room, a part of the house. Outside is a street. That
+      street is one of hundreds in a vast city, which consists of a multitude of
+      such houses together with other and vastly larger structures. And these
+      structures all rest upon a solid material which we call the ground or
+      earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact that you understand our language indicates that either you have
+      fallen heir to a body and a brain which are thoroughly in tune with ours,
+      or else&mdash;and please understand that we know very little of this
+      mystery&mdash;or else your own body has somehow become translated into a
+      condition which answers the same purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate, you ought to comprehend what I mean by the term 'earth.' Do
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; brightly. &ldquo;I seem to understand everything you say, Hobart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there is a corresponding picture in your mind to each thought I have
+      given you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so,&rdquo; not so positively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; hoping that I could make it clear, &ldquo;this earth is formed in a huge
+      globe, part of which is covered by another material, which we term water.
+      And the portions which are not so covered, and are capable of supporting
+      the structures which constitute the city, we call by still another name.
+      Can you supply that name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Continents,&rdquo; without hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine!&rdquo; This was a starter anyhow. &ldquo;We'll soon have your memory working!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However, what I really began to say is this; each of these continents&mdash;and
+      they are several in number&mdash;is inhabited by people more or less like
+      ourselves. There is a vast number, all told. Each is either male or
+      female, like ourselves&mdash;you seem to take this for granted, however&mdash;and
+      you will find them all exceedingly interesting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, in all fairness,&rdquo; letting go her hands at last &ldquo;you must understand
+      that there are, among the people whom you have yet to see, great numbers
+      who are far more&mdash;well, attractive, than I am.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you must know,&rdquo; even taking my gaze away, &ldquo;that not all persons are
+      as friendly as we. You will find some who are antagonistic to you, and
+      likely to take advantage of&mdash;well, your unsophisticated viewpoint. In
+      short&rdquo;&mdash;desperately&mdash;&ldquo;you must learn right away not to accept
+      people without question; you must form the habit of reserving judgment, of
+      waiting until you have more facts, before reaching an opinion of others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must do this as a matter of self-protection, and in the interests of
+      your greatest welfare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And I stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She seemed to be thinking over what I said. In the end she observed: &ldquo;This
+      seems reasonable. I feel sure that wherever I came from such advice would
+      have fitted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However&rdquo;&mdash;smiling at me in a manner to which I can give no
+      description other than affectionate&mdash;&ldquo;I have no doubts about you,
+      Hobart. I know you are absolutely all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And before I could recover from the bliss into which her statement threw
+      me, she turned to Charlotte with &ldquo;You too, Charlotte; I know I can trust
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But when she looked at Jerome she commented: &ldquo;I can trust you, Mister,
+      too; almost as much, but not quite. If you didn't suspect me I could trust
+      you completely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome went white. He spoke for the first time since the girl's coming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How&mdash;how did you know that I suspected you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't explain; I don't know myself.&rdquo; Then wistfully: &ldquo;I wish you would
+      stop suspecting me, Mister. I have nothing to conceal from you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it!&rdquo; Jerome burst out, excitedly, apologetically. &ldquo;I know it now!
+      You're all right, I'm satisfied of that from now on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sighed in pure pleasure. And she offered one hand to Jerome. He took
+      it as though it were a humming-bird's egg, and turned almost purple. At
+      the same time the honest, fervid manliness which backed the detective's
+      professional nature shone through for the first time in my knowledge of
+      him. From that moment his devotion to the girl was as absolute as that of
+      the fondest father who ever lived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, no need to detail all that was said during the next hour. Bit by bit
+      we added to the girl's knowledge of the world into which she had emerged,
+      and bit by bit there unfolded in her mind a corresponding image of the
+      world from which she had come. And when, for an experiment, we took her
+      out on the front porch and showed her the stars, we were fairly amazed at
+      the thoughts they aroused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried, in sheer rapture. &ldquo;I know what those are!&rdquo; By now she was
+      speaking fairly well. &ldquo;They are stars!&rdquo; Then: &ldquo;They don't look the same.
+      They're not outlined in the same way as I know. But they can't be anything
+      else!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      NOT OUTLINED THE SAME. I took this to be a very significant fact. What did
+      it mean?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look&rdquo;&mdash;showing her the constellation Leo, on the ecliptic, and
+      therefore visible to both the northern and southern hemispheres&mdash;&ldquo;do
+      you recognise that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; decisively. &ldquo;That is, the arrangement; but not the appearance of
+      the separate stars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And we found this to be true of the entire sky. Nothing was entirely
+      familiar to her; yet, she assured us, the stars could be nothing else. Her
+      previous knowledge told her this without explaining why, and without a
+      hint as to the reason for the dissimilarity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible,&rdquo; said I, speaking half to myself, &ldquo;that she has come from
+      another planet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For we know that the sky, as seen from any of the eight planets in this
+      solar system, would present practically the same appearance; but if viewed
+      from a planet belonging to any other star-sun, the constellations would be
+      more or less altered in their arrangement, because of the vast distance
+      involved. As for the difference in the appearance of the individual stars,
+      that might be accounted for by a dissimilarity in the chemical make-up of
+      the atmosphere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ariadne, it may be you've come from another world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; seemingly quite conscious that she was contradicting me. For that
+      matter there wasn't anything offensive about her kind of frankness. &ldquo;No,
+      Hobart. I feel too much at home to have come from any other world than
+      this one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Temporarily I was floored. How could she, so ignorant of other matters,
+      feel so sure of this? There was no explaining it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We went back into the house. As it happened, my eye struck first the
+      gramophone. And it seemed a good idea to test her knowledge with this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this apparatus familiar to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. What is it for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you understand what is meant by the term 'music'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; with instant pleasure. &ldquo;This is music.&rdquo; She proceeded, without the
+      slightest self-consciousness, to sing in a sweet clear soprano, and
+      treated us to the chorus of &ldquo;I Am Climbing Mountains!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens!&rdquo; gasped Charlotte. &ldquo;What can it mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment the explanation evaded me. Then I reasoned: &ldquo;She must have a
+      sub-conscious memory of what was being played just before she
+      materialised.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And to prove this I picked out an instrumental piece which we had not
+      played all the evening. It was the finale of the overture to &ldquo;Faust&rdquo;; a
+      selection, by the way, which was a great favourite of Harry's and is one
+      of mine. Ariadne listened in silence to the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I seem to have heard something like it before,&rdquo; she decided slowly. &ldquo;The
+      melody, not the&mdash;the instrumentation. But it reminds me of something
+      that I like very much.&rdquo; Whereupon she began to sing for us. But this time
+      her voice was stronger and more dramatic; and as for the composition&mdash;all
+      I can say is it had a wild, fierce ring to it, like &ldquo;Men of Harlech&rdquo;; only
+      the notes did not correspond to the chromatic scale. SHE SANG IN AN
+      ENTIRELY NEW MUSICAL SYSTEM.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By George!&rdquo; when she had done. &ldquo;Now we HAVE got something! For the first
+      time, we've heard some genuine, unadulterated Blind Spot stuff!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; from Charlotte, excitedly, &ldquo;that she has finally recovered her
+      memory?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the girl herself who answered. She shot to her feet, and her face
+      became transfigured with a wonderful joy. At the same time she blinked
+      hurriedly, as though to shut off a sight that staggered her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I remember!&rdquo;&mdash;she almost sobbed in her delight&mdash;&ldquo;it is all
+      plain to me, now! I know who I am!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIII. &mdash; THE RHAMDA AGAIN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I could have yelled for joy. We were about to learn something of the Blind
+      Spot&mdash;something that might help us to save Harry, and Chick, and the
+      professor!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ariadne seemed to know that a great deal depended upon what she was about
+      to tell us. She deliberately sat down, and rested her chin upon her hand,
+      as though determining upon the best way of telling something very
+      difficult to express.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Charlotte, Jerry, and myself, we managed somehow to restrain our
+      curiosity enough to keep silence. But we could not help glancing more or
+      less wonderingly at our visitor. Presently I realised this, and got up and
+      walked quietly about, as though intent upon a problem of my own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Which was true enough. I had come to a very startling conclusion&mdash;I,
+      Hobart Fenton, had fallen in love!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was more, this affection of the heart had come to me, a very strong
+      man, just as an affection of the lungs is said to strike such men&mdash;all
+      of a sudden and hard. One moment I had been a sturdy, independent soul,
+      intent upon scientific investigation, the only symptoms of sentimental
+      potentialities being my perfectly normal love for my sister and for my old
+      friend. Then, before my very eyes, I had been smitten thus!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the worst part of it was, I found myself ENJOYING the sensation. It
+      made not the slightest difference to me that I had fallen in love with a
+      girl who was only a step removed from a wraith. Mysteriously she had come
+      to me; as mysteriously she might depart. I had yet to know from what sort
+      of country she had come!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But that made no difference. She was HERE, in the same house with me; I
+      had held her hands; and I knew her to be very, very real indeed just then.
+      And when I considered the possibility of her disappearing just as
+      inexplicably as she had come&mdash;well, my face went cold, I admit. But
+      at the same time I felt sure of this much&mdash;I should never love any
+      other woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought left me sober. I paused in my pacing and looked at her. As
+      though in answer to my gaze she glanced up and smiled so affectionately
+      that it was all I could do to keep from leaping forward and taking her
+      right into my arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I turned hastily, and to cover my confusion I began to hum a strain from
+      the part of &ldquo;Faust&rdquo; to which I have referred. I hummed it through, and was
+      beginning again, when I was startled to hear this from the girl: &ldquo;Oh, then
+      you are Hobart!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I wheeled, to see her face filled with a wonderful light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart,&rdquo; she repeated, as one might repeat the name of a very dear one.
+      &ldquo;That&mdash;that music you were humming! Why, I heard Harry Wendel humming
+      that yesterday!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I suppose we looked very stupid, the three of us, so dumbfounded that we
+      could do nothing but gape incredulously at that extraordinary creature and
+      her equally extraordinary utterance. She immediately did her best to atone
+      for her sensation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not sure that I can make it clear,&rdquo; she said, smiling dubiously, &ldquo;but
+      if you will use your imaginations and try to fill in the gaps in what I
+      say you may get a fair idea of the place I have come from, and where Harry
+      is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We leaned forward, intensely alert. I shall never forget the pitiful
+      eagerness in poor Charlotte's face. It meant more to her, perhaps, than to
+      anyone else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the precise instant I heard a sound, off in the breakfast room. It
+      seemed to be a subdued knocking, or rather a pounding at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frowning at the interruption, I stepped through the dining-room into the
+      breakfast room, where the sounds came from. And I was not a little puzzled
+      to note that the door to the basement was receiving the blows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now I had been the last to visit the basement and had locked the door&mdash;from
+      force of habit, I suppose&mdash;leaving the key in the lock. It was still
+      there. And there is but one way to enter that basement: through this one
+      door, and no other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; I called out peremptorily. No answer; only a repetition of
+      the pounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo;&mdash;louder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Open this door, quick!&rdquo; cane a muffled reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The voice was unrecognisable. I stood and thought quickly; then shouted:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute, until I get a key!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I motioned to Charlotte. She tip-toed to my side. I whispered something in
+      her ear; and she slipped off into the kitchen, there to phone Miss Clarke
+      and warn her to notify her colleagues at once. And so, as I unlocked the
+      door, I was fortified by the knowledge that I would be assisted by the
+      combined mind-force of a score of highly developed intellects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was little surprised, a second later, to see that the intruder was
+      Rhamda Avec. What reason to expect anyone else?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get down there?&rdquo; I demanded. &ldquo;Don't you realise that you are
+      liable to arrest for trespass?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I said it merely to start conversation but it served only to bring a
+      slight smile to the face of this professed friend of ours, for whom we
+      felt nothing but distrust and fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us not waste time in trivialities, Fenton,&rdquo; he rejoined gently. He
+      brushed a fleck of cobweb from his coat. &ldquo;By this time you ought to know
+      that you cannot deal with me in any ordinary fashion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I made no comment as, without asking my leave or awaiting an invitation,
+      he stepped through into the dining-room and thence into the parlour. I
+      followed, half tempted to strike him down from behind, but restrained more
+      by the fact that I must spare him than from any compunctions. Seemingly he
+      knew this as well as I, he was serenely at ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus he stood before Jerome and Ariadne. The detective made a single
+      exclamation, and furtively shifted his coat sleeves. He was getting that
+      infernal breast gun into action. As for Ariadne, she stared at the new
+      arrival as though astonished at first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Charlotte returned, a moment later, she showed only mild surprise.
+      She quietly took her chair and as quietly moved her hand so that the gem
+      shone in full view of our visitor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he gave her and the stone only a single glance, and then rested his
+      eyes upon our new friend. To my anxiety, Ariadne was gazing fixedly at him
+      now, her expression combining both agitation and a vague fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It could not have been due entirely to his unusual appearance; for there
+      was no denying that this grey-haired yet young-faced man with the
+      distinguished, courteous bearing, looked even younger that night than ever
+      before. No; the girl's concern was deeper, more acute. I felt an
+      unaccountable alarm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Ariadne to me the Rhamda glanced, then back again; and a quick
+      satisfied smile came to his mouth. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
+      And, keeping his gaze fixed upon her eyes, he remarked carelessly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which of these chairs shall I sit in, Fenton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This one,&rdquo; I replied instantly, pointing to the one I had just quit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Smiling, he selected a chair a few feet away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon I congratulated myself. The man feared me, then; yet he ranked
+      my mentality no higher than that! In other words, remarkably clever though
+      he might be, and as yet unthwarted, he could by no means be called
+      omnipotent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For your benefit, Mr. Jerome, let me say that I phoned Miss Fenton and
+      her brother a few days ago, and urged them to give up their notion of
+      occupying this house or of attempting to solve the mystery that you are
+      already acquainted with. And I prophesied, Mr. Jerome, that their refusal
+      to accept my advice would be followed by events that would justify me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They refused, as you know; and I am here tonight to make a final plea, so
+      that they may escape the consequences of their wilfulness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're a crook! And the more I see of you, Avec, the more easily I can
+      understand why they turned you down!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you too, are prejudiced against me. I cannot understand this. My
+      motives are quite above question, I assure you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really!&rdquo; I observed sarcastically. I stole a glance at Ariadne; her eyes
+      were still riveted, in a rapt yet half-fearful abstraction, upon the face
+      of the Rhamda. It was time I took her attention away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I called her name. She did not move her head, or reply. I said it louder:
+      &ldquo;Ariadne!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Hobart?&rdquo;&mdash;very softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ariadne, this gentleman possesses a great deal of knowledge of the
+      locality from which you came. We are interested in him, because we feel
+      sure that, if he chose to, he could tell us something about our friends
+      who&mdash;about Harry Wendel.&rdquo; Why not lay the cards plainly on the table?
+      The Rhamda must be aware of it all, anyhow. &ldquo;And as this man has said, he
+      has tried to prevent us from solving the mystery. It occurs to me,
+      Ariadne, that you might recognise this man. But apparently&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shook her head just perceptibly. I proceeded:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is pleased to call his warning a prophecy; but we feel that a threat
+      is a threat. What he really wants is that ring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ariadne had already, earlier in the hour, given the gem several curious
+      glances. Now she stirred and sighed, and was about to turn her eyes from
+      the Rhamda to the ring when he spoke again; this time in a voice as sharp
+      as a steel blade:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not enjoy being misunderstood, much less being misrepresented, Mr.
+      Fenton. At the same time, since you have seen fit to brand me in such
+      uncomplimentary terms, suppose I state what I have to say very bluntly, so
+      that there may be no mistake about it. If you do not either quit this
+      house, or give up the ring&mdash;NOW&mdash;you will surely regret it the
+      rest of your lives!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the corner of my eye I saw Jerome moving slowly in his chair, so that
+      he could face directly towards the Rhamda. His hands were ready for the
+      swift, upward jerk which, I knew, would stifle our caller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for my sister, she merely turned the ring so that the gem no longer
+      faced the Rhamda; and with the other hand she reached out and grasped
+      Ariadne's firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Avec sat with his two hands clasping the arms of his chair. His fingers
+      drummed nervously but lightly on the wood. And then, suddenly, they
+      stopped their motion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your answer, Fenton,&rdquo; in his usual gentle voice. &ldquo;I can give you no more
+      time,&rdquo; I did not need to consult Charlotte or Jerome. I knew what they
+      would have said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are welcome to my answer. It is&mdash;no!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As I spoke the last word my gaze was fixed on the Rhamda's eyes. He, on
+      the other hand, was looking towards Ariadne. And at the very instant an
+      expression, as of alarm and sorrow, swept into the man's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My glance jumped to Ariadne. Her eyes were closed, her face suffused; she
+      seemed to be suffocating. She gave a queer little sound, half gasp and
+      half cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Simultaneously Jerome's hands shot into the air. The room shivered with
+      the stunning report of his breast gun. And every pellet struck the Rhamda
+      and burst.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A look of intense astonishment came into his face. He gave Jerome a
+      fleeting glance, almost of admiration; then his nostrils contracted with
+      pain as the gas attacked his lungs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another second, and each of us were reeling with the fumes. Jerome started
+      toward the window, to raise it, then sank back into his chair. And when he
+      turned round&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He and I and Charlotte saw an extraordinary thing. Instead of succumbing
+      to the gas, Rhamda Avec somehow recovered himself. And while the rest of
+      us remained still too numbed to move or speak, he found power to do both.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I warned you plainly, Fenton,&rdquo; as though nothing in particular had
+      happened. &ldquo;And now see what you have brought upon the poor child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I could only roll my head stupidly, to stare at Ariadne's now senseless
+      form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As usual, Fenton, you will blame me for it. I cannot help that. But it
+      may still be possible for you to repent of your folly and escape your
+      fate. You are playing with terrible forces. If you do repent, just follow
+      these instructions&rdquo;&mdash;laying a card on the table&mdash;&ldquo;and I will see
+      what I can do for you. I wish you all good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with that, pausing only to make a courtly bow to Charlotte, Rhamda
+      Avec turned and walked deliberately, dignifiedly from the room, while the
+      two men and a woman stared helplessly after him and allowed him to go in
+      peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIV. &mdash; THE LIVING DEATH
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As soon as the fresh air had revived us somewhat, we first of all examined
+      Ariadne. She still lay unconscious, very pale, and alarmingly limp. I
+      picked her up and carried her into the next room, where there was a sofa,
+      while Jerome went for water and Charlotte brought smelling-salts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Neither of these had any effect. Ariadne seemed to be scarcely breathing;
+      her heart beat only faintly, and there was no response to such other
+      methods as friction, slapping, or pinching of fingernails.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had better call a doctor,&rdquo; decided Charlotte promptly, and went to the
+      phone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I picked up the card which the Rhamda had left. It contained simply his
+      name, together with one other word&mdash;the name of a morning newspaper.
+      Evidently he meant for us to insert an advertisement as soon as we were
+      ready to capitulate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet!&rdquo; the three of us decided, after talking it over. And we waited
+      as patiently as we could during the fifteen minutes that elapsed before
+      the telephoning got results.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It brought Dr. Hansen, who, it may be remembered, was closely identified
+      with the Chick Watson disappearance. He made a rapid but very careful
+      examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has all the appearance of a mild electric shock. What caused it,
+      Fenton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I told him. His eyes narrowed when I mentioned Avec, then widened in
+      astonishment and incredulity as I related the man's inexplicable effect
+      upon the girl, and his strange immunity to the poison gas. But the doctor
+      asked nothing further about our situation, proceeding at once to apply
+      several restoratives. All were without result. As a final resort, he even
+      rigged up an electrical connection, making use of some coils which I had
+      upstairs, and endeavoured to arouse the girl in that fashion. Still
+      without result.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Lord, Hansen!&rdquo; I finally burst out, when he stood back, apparently
+      baffled. &ldquo;She's simply GOT to be revived! We can't allow her to succumb to
+      that scoundrel's power, whatever it is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not a blood transfusion?&rdquo; I asked eagerly, as an idea came to me.
+      &ldquo;I'm in perfect condition. What about it? Go to it, doc!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He slowly shook his head. And beyond a single searching glance into my
+      eyes, wherein he must have read something more than I had said, he
+      regretfully replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a case for a specialist, Fenton. Everything considered, I should
+      say that she is suffering from a purely mental condition; but whether it
+      had a physical or a psychic origin, I can't say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In short, he did not feel safe about going ahead with any really heroic
+      measures until a brain specialist was called in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had a good deal of confidence in Hansen. And what he said sounded
+      reasonable. So we agreed to his calling in a Dr. Higgins&mdash;the same
+      man, in fact, who was too late in reaching the house to save Chick on that
+      memorable night a year before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His examination was swift and convincingly competent. He went over the
+      same ground that Hansen had covered, took the blood pressure and other
+      instrumental data, and asked us several questions regarding Ariadne's
+      mentality as we knew it. Scarcely stopping to think it over, Higgins
+      decided:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The young woman is suffering from a temporary dissociation of brain
+      centres. Her cerebrum does not co-act with her cerebellum. In other words,
+      her conscious mind, for lack of means to express itself, is for the time
+      being dormant as in sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is not like ordinary sleep. Such is induced by fatigue of the
+      nerve channels. This young woman's condition is produced by shock; and
+      since there was no physical violence, we must conclude that the shock was
+      psychic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, the condition will last until one of two things occurs;
+      either she must be similarly shocked back into sensibility&mdash;and I
+      can't see how this can happen, Fenton, unless you can secure the
+      co-operation of the man to whom you attribute the matter&mdash;or she must
+      lie that way indefinitely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indefinitely!&rdquo; I exclaimed, sensing something ominous. &ldquo;You mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That there is no known method of reviving a patient in such a condition.
+      It might be called psychic catalepsy. To speak plainly, Fenton, unless
+      this man revives her, she will remain unconscious until her death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I shuddered. What horrible thing had come into our lives to afflict us
+      with so dreadful a prospect?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is&mdash;is there no hope, Dr. Higgins?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very little&rdquo;&mdash;gently but decisively. &ldquo;All I can assure you is that
+      she will not die immediately. From the general state of her health, she
+      will live at least seventy-two hours. After that&mdash;you must be
+      prepared for the worst at any moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an awful
+      situation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I hunted up Jerome. I said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jerry, the thing is plainly up to you and me. Higgins gives us three
+      days. Day after tomorrow morning, if we haven't got results by that time,
+      we've got to give in and put that ad in the paper. But I don't mean to
+      give in, Jerry! Not until I've exhausted every other possibility!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What're you going to do?&rdquo; he asked thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Work on that ring. I was a fool not to get busy sooner. As for the rest,
+      that's up to you! You've got to get yourself on the Rhamda's trail as soon
+      as you can, and camp there! The first chance you get, ransack his room and
+      belongings, and bring me every bit of data you find. Between him and the
+      ring, the truth ought to come out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. But don't forget that&mdash;&rdquo; pointing to the unexplained spot
+      on the wood of the doorway. &ldquo;You've got a mighty important clue there,
+      waiting for you to analyse it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he went and got his hat, and left the house. His final remark was that
+      we wouldn't see him back until he had something to report about our man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five o'clock the next morning found my sister and me out of our beds and
+      desperately busy. She spent a good deal of time, of course in caring for
+      Ariadne. The poor girl showed no improvement at all; and we got scant
+      encouragement from the fact that she looked no worse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not a sound escaped her lips; her eyes remained closed; she gave no sign
+      of life, save her barely perceptible breathing. It made me sick at heart
+      just to look at her; so near, and yet so fearfully far away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But when Charlotte could spare any time she gave me considerable help in
+      what I was trying to do. One great service she was rendering has already
+      been made clear: she wore the ring constantly, thus relieving me of the
+      anxiety of caring for it. I was very cautious not to have it in my
+      possession for more than a few minutes at a time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My first move was to set down, in orderly fashion, the list of the gem's
+      attributes. I grouped together the fluctuating nature of its pale blue
+      colour, its power of reproducing those who had gone into the Blind Spot,
+      its combination of perfect solidity with extreme lightness; its quality of
+      coldness to the touch of a male, and warmth to that of a female; and
+      finally its ability to induct&mdash;I think this is the right term&mdash;to
+      induct sounds out of the unknown. This last quality might be called
+      spasmodic or accidental, whereas the others were permanent and constant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, to this list I presently was able to add that the gem possessed no
+      radioactive properties that I could detect with the usual means. It was
+      only when I began dabbling in chemistry that I learned things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By placing the gem inside a glass bell, and exhausting as much air as
+      possible from around it, the way was cleared for introducing other forms
+      of gases. Whereupon I discovered this:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stone will absorb any given quantity of hydrogen gas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this respect it behaves analogously to that curious place on the
+      door-frame. Only, it absorbs gas, no liquid; and not any gas, either&mdash;none
+      but hydrogen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, obviously this gem cannot truly absorb so much material, in the sense
+      of retaining it as well. The simple test of weighing it afterwards proves
+      this; for its weight remains the same in any circumstances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, unlike the liquids which I poured into the wood and saw
+      afterwards in the basement, the gas does not escape back into the air. I
+      kept it under the Dell long enough to be sure of that. No; that hydrogen
+      is, manifestly, translated into the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Learning nothing further about the gem at that time, I proceeded to
+      investigate the trim of the door. I began by trying to find out the
+      precise thickness of that liquid-absorbing layer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To do this I scraped off the &ldquo;skin&rdquo; of the air-darkened wood. This layer
+      was .02 of an inch thick. And&mdash;that was the total amount of the
+      active material!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I put these scrapings through a long list of experiments. They told me
+      nothing valuable. I learned only one detail worth mentioning; if a
+      fragment of the scrapings be brought near to the Holcomb gem&mdash;say, to
+      within two inches&mdash;the scrapings will burst into flame. It is merely
+      a bright, pinkish flare, like that made by smokeless rifle-powder. No
+      ashes remain. After that we took care not to bring the ring near the
+      remaining material on the board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this occurred on the first day after Ariadne was stricken. Jerome
+      phoned to say that he had engaged the services of a dozen private
+      detectives, and expected to get wind of the Rhamda any hour. Both Dr.
+      Hansen and Dr. Higgins called twice, without being able to detect any
+      change for the better or otherwise in their patient.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening Charlotte and I concluded that we could not hold out any
+      longer. We must give in to the Rhamda. I phoned for a messenger, and sent
+      an advertisement to the newspaper which Avec had indicated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thing was done. We had capitulated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next development would be another and triumphant call from the Rhamda,
+      and this time we would have to give up the gem to him if we were to save
+      Ariadne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The game was up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But instead of taking the matter philosophically, I worried about it all
+      night. I told myself again and again that I was foolish to think about
+      something that couldn't be helped. Why not forget it, and go to sleep?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But somehow I couldn't. I lay wide awake till long past midnight, finding
+      myself growing more and more nervous. At last, such was the tension of it
+      all, I got up and dressed. It was then about one-thirty, and I stepped out
+      on the street for a walk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later I returned, my lungs full of fresh air, hoping that I
+      could now sleep. It was only a hope. Never have I felt wider awake than I
+      did then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more&mdash;about three&mdash;I took another stroll outside. I seemed
+      absolutely tireless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Each time that I had turned back home I seemed to feel stronger than ever,
+      more wakeful. Finally I dropped the idea altogether, went to the house,
+      and left a note for Charlotte, then walked down to the waterfront and
+      watched some ships taking advantage of the tide. Anything to pass the
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus it happened, that, about eight o'clock&mdash;breakfast time at
+      288 Chatterton Place&mdash;I returned to the house, and sat down at the
+      table with Charlotte. First, however, I opened the morning paper to read
+      our little ad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not there. It had not been printed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXV. &mdash; AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      I dropped the paper in dismay. Charlotte looked up, startled, gave me a
+      single look, and turned pale,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;what's the matter?&rdquo; she stammered fearfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I showed her. Then I ran to the phone. In a few seconds I was talking to
+      the very man who had taken the note from the messenger the day before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I handed it in along with the rest,&rdquo; he replied to my excited query.
+      Then&mdash;&ldquo;Wait a minute,&rdquo; said he; and a moment later added: &ldquo;Say, Mr.
+      Fenton, I've made a mistake! Here's the darned ad on the counter; it must
+      have slipped under the blotter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I went back and told Charlotte. We stared at one another blankly. Why in
+      the name of all that was baffling had our ad &ldquo;slipped&rdquo; under that blotter?
+      And what were we to do?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was the second day!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, we did what we could. We arranged for the insertion of the same
+      notice in each of the three afternoon papers. There would still be time
+      for the Rhamda to act, if he saw it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hours dragged by. Never did time pass more slowly; and yet, I
+      begrudged every one. So much for being absolutely helpless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About ten o'clock the next morning&mdash;that is to say, today; I am
+      writing this the same evening&mdash;the front door bell rang. Charlotte
+      answered and in a moment came back with a card. It read:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      SIR HENRY HODGES
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      I nearly upset the table in my excitement. I ran into the hall. Who
+      wouldn't? Sir Henry Hodges! The English scientist about whom the whole
+      world was talking! The most gifted investigator of the day; the most
+      widely informed; of all men on the face of the globe, the best equipped,
+      mentally, to explore the unknown! Without the slightest formality I
+      grabbed his hand and shook it until he smiled at my enthusiasm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Sir Henry,&rdquo; I told him, &ldquo;I'm immensely glad to see you! The truth
+      is, I've been hoping you'd be interested in our case; but I didn't have
+      the nerve to bother you with it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I,&rdquo; he admitted in his quiet way, &ldquo;have been longing to take a hand
+      in it, ever since I first heard of Professor Holcomb's disappearance.
+      Didn't like to offer myself; understood that the matter had been hushed up
+      and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the very simple reason,&rdquo; I explained, &ldquo;that there was nothing to be
+      gained by publicity. If we had given the public the facts, we would have
+      been swamped with volunteers to help us. I didn't know whom to confide in,
+      Sir Henry; couldn't make up my mind. I only knew that one such man as
+      yourself was just what I needed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He overlooked the compliment, and pulled out the newspaper from his
+      pocket. &ldquo;Bought this a few minutes ago. Saw your ad, and jumped to the
+      conclusion that matters had reached an acute stage. Let me have the whole
+      story, my boy, as briefly as you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He already knew the published details. Also, he seemed to be acquainted&mdash;in
+      some manner which puzzled me&mdash;with much that had not been printed. I
+      sketched the affair as quickly as I could, making it clear that we were
+      face to face with a crisis. When I wound up by saying that it was Dr.
+      Higgins who gave Ariadne three days, ending about midnight, in which she
+      might recover if we could secure Rhamda Avec, he said kindly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid you made a mistake, my boy, in not seeking some help. The game
+      has reached a point where you cannot have too many brains on your side.
+      Time is short for reinforcements!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He heartily approved of my course in enlisting the aid of Miss Clarke and
+      her colleagues. &ldquo;That is the sort of thing you need! People with
+      mentality; plenty of intellectual force!&rdquo; And he went on to make
+      suggestions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a result, within an hour and a half our house was sheltering five more
+      persons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Clarke has already been introduced. She was easily one of the ten
+      most advanced practitioners in her line. And she had the advantage of a
+      curiosity that was interested in everything odd, even though she labelled
+      it &ldquo;non-existent.&rdquo; She said it helped her faith in the real truths to be
+      conversant with the unreal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Malloy was from the university, an out-and-out materialist, a
+      psychologist who made life interesting for those who agreed with William
+      James. His investigations of abnormal psychology are world-acknowledged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mme. Le Fabre, we afterwards learned, had come from Versailles especially
+      to investigate the matter that was bothering us. She possessed no
+      mediumistic properties of her own but was a staunch proponent of
+      spiritualism, believing firmly in immortality and the omnipotence of
+      &ldquo;translated&rdquo; souls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Professor Herold is most widely known as the inventor of certain apparatus
+      connected with wireless. But he is also considered the West's most
+      advanced student of electrical and radio-active subjects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was enormously glad to have this man's expert, high-tension knowledge
+      right on tap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The remaining member of the quintet which Sir Henry advised me to summon
+      requires a little explanation. Also, I am obliged to give him a name not
+      his own; for it is not often that brigadier-generals of the United States
+      army can openly lend their names to anything so far removed apparently
+      from militarism as the searching of the occult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet we knew that this man possessed a power that few scientists have
+      developed; the power of co-ordination, of handling and balancing great
+      facts and forces, and of deciding promptly how best to meet any given
+      situation. Not that we looked for anything militaristic out of the Blind
+      Spot; far from it. We merely knew not what to expect, which was exactly
+      why we wanted to have him with us; his type of mind is, perhaps, the most
+      solidly comforting sort that any mystery-bound person can have at his
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By the time these five had gathered, Jerome had neither returned nor
+      telephoned. There was not the slightest trace of Rhamda Avec; no guessing
+      as to whether he had seen the ad. It was then one o'clock in the
+      afternoon. Only six hours ago! It doesn't seem possible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So there were eight of us&mdash;three women and five men&mdash;who went
+      upstairs and quietly inspected the all but lifeless form of Ariadne and
+      afterwards gathered in the library below.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All were thoroughly familiar with the situation. Miss Clarke calmly
+      commented to the effect that the entire Blind Spot affair was due wholly
+      and simply to the cumulative effects of so many, many subjects; the
+      result, in other words, of error.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Malloy was equally outspoken in his announcement that he proposed to
+      deal with the matter from the standpoint of psychic aberration. He
+      mentioned dissociated personalities, group hypnosis, and so on. But he
+      declared that he was open to conviction, and anxious to get any and all
+      facts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry had a good deal of difficulty in getting Mme. Le Fabre to commit
+      herself. Probably she felt that, since Sir Henry had gone on record as
+      being doubtful of the spiritistic explanation of psychic phenomena, she
+      might get into a controversy with him. But in the end she stated that she
+      expected to find our little mystery simply a novel variation on what was
+      so familiar to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As might be supposed, General Hume had no opinion. He merely expressed
+      himself as being prepared to accept any sound theory, or portions of such
+      theories as might be advanced, and arrive at a workable conclusion
+      therefrom. Which was exactly what we wanted of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of them all, Professor Herold showed the most enthusiasm. Perhaps this was
+      because, despite his attainments, he is still young. At any rate, he made
+      it clear that he was fully prepared to learn something entirely new in
+      science. And he was almost eager to adjust his previous notions and facts
+      to the new discoveries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When all these various viewpoints had been cleared up, and we felt that we
+      understood each other, it was inevitable that we should look to Sir Henry
+      to state his position. This one man combined a large amount of the
+      various, specialised abilities for which the others were noted, and they
+      all knew and respected him accordingly. Had he stood and theorised half
+      the afternoon, they would willingly have sat and listened. But instead he
+      glanced at his watch, and observed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To me, the most important development of all was hearing the sound of a
+      dog's bark coming from the ring. As I recall the details, the sound was
+      emitted just after the gem had been submitted to considerable handling,
+      from Miss Fenton's fingers to her brother's and back again. In other
+      words, it was subjected to a mixture of opposing animal magnetisms.
+      Suppose we experiment further with it now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte slipped the gem from her finger and passed it around. Each of us
+      held it for a second or two; after which Charlotte clasped the ring
+      tightly in her palm, while we all joined hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, as I have said, broad daylight; the hour, shortly after one.
+      Scarcely had our hands completed the circuit than something happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From out of Charlotte's closed hand there issued an entirely new sound. At
+      first it was so faint and fragmentary that only two of us heard it. Then
+      it became stronger and more continuous, and presently we were all gazing
+      at each other in wonderment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the sound was that of footsteps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXVI. &mdash; DIRECT FROM PARADISE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The sound was not like that of the walking of the human. Nor was it such
+      as an animal would make. It was neither a thud nor a pattering, but more
+      like a scratching shuffle, such as reminded me of nothing that I had ever
+      heard before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next moment, however, there came another sort of sound, plainly audible
+      above the footsteps. This was a thin, musical chuckle which ended in a
+      deep, but faint, organ-like throb. It happened only once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Immediately it was followed by a steady clicking, such as might be made by
+      gently striking a stick against the pavement; only sharper. This lasted a
+      minute, during which the other sounds ceased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once more the footsteps. They were not very loud, but in the stillness of
+      that room they all but resounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Charlotte could stand it no longer. She placed the ring on the
+      table, where it continued to emit those unplaceable sounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! Do&mdash;do you people,&rdquo; stammered Dr. Malloy, &ldquo;do you people all
+      hear THAT?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Clarke's face was rather pale. But her mouth was firm. &ldquo;It is
+      nothing,&rdquo; said she, with theosophical positiveness. &ldquo;You must not believe
+      it&mdash;it is not the truth of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; interrupted Sir Henry, &ldquo;but this isn't something to argue
+      about! It is a reality; and the sooner we all admit it, the better. There
+      is a living creature of some kind making that sound!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the spirit of some two-footed creature,&rdquo; asserted Mme. Le Fabre,
+      plainly at her ease. She was on familiar ground now. &ldquo;If only we had a
+      medium!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Abruptly the sounds left the vicinity of the ring. At first we could not
+      locate their new position. Then Herold declared that they came from under
+      the table; and presently we were all gathered on the floor, listening to
+      those odd little sounds, while the ring remained thirty inches above, on
+      the top of the table!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It may be that the thing, whatever it was, did not care for such a crowd.
+      For shortly the shuffling ceased. And for a while we stared and listened,
+      scarcely breathing, trying to locate the new position.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally we went back to our chairs. We had heard nothing further.
+      Nevertheless, we continued to keep silence, with our ears alert for
+      anything more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; whispered Charlotte all of a sudden. &ldquo;Did you hear that?&rdquo; And she
+      looked up toward the ceiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a moment I caught the sound. It was exceedingly faint, like the distant
+      thrumming of a zither. Only it was a single note, which did not rise and
+      fall, although there seemed a continual variation in its volume.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unexpectedly the other sounds came again, down under the table. This time
+      we remained in our seats and simply listened. And presently Sir Henry,
+      referring to the ring, made this suggestion:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose we seal it up, and see whether it inducts the sound then as well
+      as when exposed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This appealed to Herold very strongly; the others were agreeable; so I ran
+      upstairs to my room and secured a small screw-top metal canister, which I
+      knew to be airtight. It was necessary to remove the stone from the ring,
+      in order to get it into the opening in the can. Presently this was done;
+      and while our invisible visitor continued his scratchy little walking as
+      before, I screwed the top of the can down as tightly as I could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Instantly the footsteps halted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I unscrewed the top a trifle. As instantly the stepping was resumed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; cried Herold. &ldquo;It's a question of radioactivity, then! Remember Le
+      Bon's experiments, Sir Henry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Miss Clarke was sorely mystified by this simple matter, and herself
+      repeated the experiments. Equally puzzled was Mme. Le Fabre. According to
+      her theory, a spirit wouldn't mind a little thing like a metal box. Of
+      them all, Dr. Malloy was the least disturbed; so decidedly so that General
+      Hume eyed him quizzically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fine bunch of hallucinations, doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Almost commonplace,&rdquo; retorted Malloy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently I mentioned that the Rhamda had come from the basement on the
+      night that Ariadne had materialised; and I showed that the only possible
+      route into the cellar was through the locked door in the breakfast room,
+      since the windows were all too small, and there was no other door. Query:
+      How had the Rhamda got there? Immediately they all became alert. As Herold
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One thing or the other is true; either there is something downstairs
+      which has escaped you, Fenton, or else Avec is able to materialise in any
+      place he chooses. Let's look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We all went down except Charlotte, who went upstairs to stay with Ariadne.
+      By turns, each of us held the ring. And as we unlocked the basement door
+      we noted that the invisible, walking creature had reached there before us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the steps went those unseen little feet, jumping from one step to the
+      next just ahead of us all the way. When within three or four steps of the
+      bottom, the creature made one leap do for them all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had previously run an extension cord down into the basement, and both
+      compartments could now be lighted by powerful electric lamps. We gave the
+      place a quick examination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's all this newly turned earth mean?&rdquo; inquired Sir Henry, pointing to
+      the result of Jerome's efforts a few months before. And I explained how he
+      and Harry, on the chance the basement might contain some clue as to the
+      localisation of the Blind Spot, had dug without result in the bluish clay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry picked up the spade, which had never been moved from where
+      Jerome had dropped it. And while I went on to tell about the pool of
+      liquids, which for some unknown reason had not seeped into the soil since
+      forming there, the Englishman proceeded to dig vigorously into the heap I
+      had mentioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rest of us watched him thoughtfully. We remembered that Jerome's
+      digging had been done after Queen's disappearance. And the dog had
+      vanished in the rear room, the one in which Chick and Dr. Holcomb had last
+      been seen. Now, when Jerome had dug the clay from the basement under this,
+      the dining-room, he had thrown it through the once concealed opening in
+      the partition; had thrown the clay, that is, in a small heap under the
+      library. And&mdash;after Jerome had done this the phenomena had occurred
+      in the library, not in the dining-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; ejaculated General Hume, as I pointed this out. &ldquo;This may be
+      something more, you know, that mere coincidence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry said nothing, but continued his spading. He paid attention to
+      nothing save the heap that Jerome had formed. And with each spadeful he
+      bent over and examined the clay very carefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Clarke and Mme. Le Fabre both remained very calm about it all. Each
+      from her own viewpoint regarded the work as more or less a waste of time.
+      But I noticed that they did not take their eyes from the spade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry stopped to rest. &ldquo;Let me,&rdquo; offered Herold; and went on as the
+      Englishman had done, holding up each spadeful for inspection. And it was
+      thus that we made a strange discovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We all saw it at the same time. Embedded in the bluish earth was a small,
+      egg-shaped piece of light-coloured stone. And protruding from its upper
+      surface was a tiny, blood-red pebble, no bigger than a good-sized shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Herold thrust the point of his spade under the stone, to lift it up.
+      Whereupon he gave a queer exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's funny!&rdquo; holding the stone up in front of us. &ldquo;That little
+      thing's as heavy as&mdash;as&mdash;it's HEAVIER than lead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry picked the stone off the spade. Immediately the material
+      crumbled in his hands, as though rotting, so that it left only the small,
+      red pebble intact. Sir Henry weighed this thoughtfully in his palm, then
+      without a word handed it around.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We all wondered at the pebble. It was most astonishingly heavy. As I say,
+      it was no bigger than a fair-sized shot, yet it was vastly heavier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Afterward we weighed it, upstairs, and found that the trifle weighed over
+      half a pound. Considering its very small bulk, this worked out to be a
+      specific gravity of 192.6 or almost ten times as heavy as the same bulk of
+      pure gold. And gold is heavy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Inevitably we saw that there must be some connection between this
+      unprecedentedly heavy speck of material and that lighter-than-air gem of
+      mystery. For the time being we were careful to keep the two apart. As for
+      the unexplained footsteps, they were still slightly audible, as the
+      invisible creatures moved around the cellar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last we turned to go. I let the others lead the way. Thus I was the
+      last to approach the steps; and it was at that moment that I felt
+      something brush against my foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I stooped down. My hands collided with the thing that had touched me. And
+      I found myself clutching&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something invisible&mdash;something which, in that brilliant light, showed
+      absolutely nothing to my eyes. But my hands told me I was grasping a very
+      real thing, as real as my fingers themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I made some sort of incoherent exclamation. The others turned and peered
+      at me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; came Herold's excited voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know!&rdquo; I gasped. &ldquo;Come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Sir Henry was the first to reach me. Next instant he, too, was
+      fingering the tiny, unseen object. And such was his iron nerve and
+      superior self-control, he identified it almost at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the lord!&rdquo;&mdash;softly. &ldquo;Why, it's a small bird! Come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another second and they were all there. I was glad enough of it; for, like
+      a flash, with an unexpectedness that startles me even now as I think of it&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thing became visible. Right in my grasp, a little fluttering bird came
+      to life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXVII. &mdash; SOLVED
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was a tiny thing, and most amazingly beautiful. It could not have stood
+      as high as a canary; and had its feathers been made of gleaming silver
+      they could not have been lovelier. And its black-plumed head, and long,
+      blossom-like tail, were such as no man on earth ever set eyes on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Like a flash it was gone. Not more than a half a second was this
+      enchanting apparition visible to us. Before we could discern any more than
+      I have mentioned, it not only vanished but it ceased to make any sounds
+      whatever. And each of us drew a long breath, as one might after being
+      given a glimpse of an angel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Right now, five or six hours after the events I have just described, it is
+      very easy for me to smile at my emotions of the time. How startled and
+      mystified I was! And&mdash;why not confess it?&mdash;just a trifle afraid.
+      Why? Because I didn't understand! Merely that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment I sit in my laboratory upstairs in that house, rejoicing in
+      having reached the end of the mystery. For the enigma of the Blind Spot is
+      no more. I have solved it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now twenty feet away, in another room, lies Ariadne. Already there is a
+      faint trace of colour in her cheeks, and her heart is beating more
+      strongly. Another hour, says Dr. Higgins, and she will be restored to us!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The time is seven p.m. I didn't sleep at all last night; I haven't slept
+      since. For the past five hours we have been working steadily on the
+      mystery, ever since our finding that little, red pebble in the basement.
+      The last three hours of the time I have been treating Ariadne, using means
+      which our discoveries indicated. And in order to keep awake I have been
+      dictating this account to a stenographer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This young lady, a Miss Dibble, is downstairs, where her typewriter will
+      not bother. Yes, put that down, too, Miss Dibble; I want people to know
+      everything! She has a telephone clamped to her ears, and I am talking into
+      a microphone which is fixed to a stand on my desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On that desk are four switches. All are of the four-way two-pole type; and
+      from them run several wires, some going to one end of the room, where they
+      are attached to the Holcomb gem. Others, running to the opposite end,
+      making contact with the tiny heavy stone we found in the basement. Other
+      wires run from the switches to lead bands around my wrists. Also, between
+      switches are several connections&mdash;one circuit containing an
+      amplifying apparatus. By throwing these switches in various combinations,
+      I can secure any given alteration of forces, and direct them where I
+      choose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For there are two other wires. These run from my own lead bracelets to
+      another room; a pair clamped around the wrists of Ariadne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For I, Hobart Fenton, am now a living, human transforming station. I am
+      converting the power of the Infinite into the Energy of Life. And I am
+      transmitting that power directly out of the ether, as conduced through
+      these two marvellous stones, back into the nervous system of the girl I
+      love. Another hour, and she will Exist!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was all so very simple, now that I understand it. And yet&mdash;well,
+      an absolutely new thing is always very hard to put into words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To begin with, I must acknowledge the enormous help which I have had from
+      my friends: Miss Clarke, Mme. Le Fabre, General Hume, Dr. Malloy, and
+      Herold. These people are still in the house with me; I think they are
+      eating supper. I've already had mine. Really, I can't take much credit to
+      myself for what I have found out. The others supplied most of the facts. I
+      merely happened to fit them together; and, because of my relationship to
+      the problem, am now doing the heroic end of the work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Harry&mdash;he and Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson and even the dog&mdash;I
+      shall have them out of the Blind Spot inside of twelve hours. All I need
+      is a little rest. I'll go straight to bed as soon as I finish reviving
+      Ariadne; and when I wake up, we'll see who's who, friend Rhamda!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I'm too exuberant to hold myself down to the job of telling what I've
+      discovered. But it's got to be done. Here goes!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I practically took my life in my hands when I first made connection.
+      However, I observed the precaution of rigging up a primary connection
+      direct from the ring to the pebble, running the wire along the floor some
+      distance away from where I sat. No ill effects when I ventured into the
+      line of force; so I began to experiment with the switches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That precautionary circuit was Herold's idea. His, also, the amplifying
+      apparatus. The mental attitude was Miss Clarke's, modified by Dr. Malloy.
+      The lead bracelets were Mme. Le Fabre's suggestion; they work fine. Sir
+      Henry was the one who pointed out the advantage of the microphone I am
+      using. If my hands become paralysed I can easily call for help to my side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well, the first connection I tried resulted in nothing. Perfectly blank.
+      Then I tried another and another, meanwhile continually adjusting the
+      amplifier; and as a result I am now able, at will, to do either or all of
+      the following:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (1) I can induct sounds from the Blind Spot; (2) I can induct light, or
+      visibility; or (3) any given object or person, in toto.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now to tell how. No, I'm just sleepy, not weak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Let's see; where was I? Oh, yes; those connections. They've got to be done
+      just right, with the proper tension in the coils, and the correct mental
+      attitude, to harmonise. I wish I wasn't so tired!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One moment! No, no; I'm all right. I&mdash;Queer! By Jove, that's a funny
+      thing just now! I must have got an inducted current from another wire,
+      mixed with these! And&mdash;I got a glimpse into the Blind Spot!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A great&mdash;No; it's a&mdash;What a terrific crowd! Wonder what they're
+      all&mdash;By Jove, it's&mdash;Good Lord, it's he! And Chick! No, I'm not
+      wandering! I'm having the experience of my life!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now&mdash;THAT'S the boy! Don't let 'em bluff you! Good! Good! Tell 'em
+      where to head in! That's the boy! Rub it in! I don't know what you're up
+      to, but I'm with you!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Er&mdash;there's a big crowd of ugly looking chaps there, and I can't make
+      it out&mdash;Just a moment&mdash;a moment. What does it mean, anyway? Just&mdash;I&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      DANGER, by Heaven! THAT'S what it means!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No; I'm all right. The&mdash;thing came to an end, abruptly. That's all;
+      everything normal again; the room just the same as it was a moment ago.
+      Hello! I seem to have started something! The wire down on the floor has
+      commenced to hum! Oh, I've got my eye on it, and if anything&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Dibble! Tell Herold to come! On the run! Quick! Did you? Good! don't
+      stop writing! I&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There's Chick! CHICK! How did you get here? What? YOU CAN'T SEE ME! Why&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick! Listen! Listen, man! I've gone into the Blind Spot! Write this
+      down! The connection&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That's Herold! Herold, this is Chick Watson! Listen, now, you two! The&mdash;the&mdash;I
+      can hardly&mdash;it's from No. 4 to&mdash;to&mdash;to the ring&mdash;then&mdash;coil&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both switches, Chick! Ah! I've&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      NOTE BY MISS L. DIBBLE.&mdash;Just as Mr. Fenton made the concluding
+      remark as above, there came a loud crash, followed by the voice of Mr.
+      Herold. Then, there came a very loud clang from a bell; just one stroke.
+      After which I caught Mr. Fenton's voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Herold&mdash;Chick can tell you what IT wants us to do&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with that, his voice trailed off into nothing, and died away. As for
+      Mr. Fenton himself, I am informed that he has utterly disappeared; and in
+      his stead there now exists a man who is known to Dr. Hansen as Chick
+      Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXVIII. &mdash; THE MAN FROM SPACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Before starting the conclusion of the Blind Spot mystery it may be just as
+      well for the two publicists who are bringing it to the press to follow
+      Hobart Fenton's example and go into a bit of explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two men who wrote the first two parts were participants, and
+      necessarily writing almost in the present tense. While they could give an
+      accurate and vivid account of their feelings and experiences, they could
+      only guess at what lay in the future, at the events that would unravel it
+      all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the present writers have the advantage of working, of seeing, of
+      weighing in the retrospect. They know just where they are going.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The coming of Chick Watson brought new perspective. Hitherto we had been
+      looking into the darkness. Whatever had been caught in the focus of the
+      Spot had become lost to our five senses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet, facts are facts. It was no mere trickery that had caught Dr. Holcomb
+      in the beginning. One by one, men of the highest standards and character
+      had been either victims or witness to its reality and power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the coming of Watson may well be set down as one of the deciding
+      moments of history. He who had been the victim a year before was returning
+      through the very Spot that had engulfed him. He was the herald of the
+      great unknown, an ambassador of the infinite itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It will be remembered that of all the inmates of the house, Dr. Hansen was
+      the only one who had a personal acquaintance with Watson. One year before
+      the doctor had seen him a shadow&mdash;wasted, worn, exhausted. He had
+      talked with him on that memorable night in the cafe. Well he remembered
+      the incident, and the subject of that strange conversation&mdash;the
+      secret of life that had been discovered by the missing Dr. Holcomb. And
+      Dr. Hansen had pondered it often since.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What was the force that was pulsing through the Blind Spot? It had reached
+      out on the earth, and had plucked up youth as well as wisdom. THIS was the
+      first time it had ever given up that which it had taken!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Watson, sure enough; but it was not the man he had known one year
+      before. Except for the basic features Hansen would not have recognized
+      him; the shadow was gone, the pallor, the touch of death. He was hale and
+      radiant; his skin had the pink glow of alert fitness; except for being
+      dazed, he appeared perfectly natural. In the tense moment of his arrival
+      the little group waited in silence. What had he to tell them?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he did not see them at first. He groped about blindly, moving slowly
+      and holding his hands before him. His face was calm and settled; its lines
+      told decision. There was not a question in any mind present but that the
+      man had come for a purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Why could he not see? Perhaps the light was too dim. Some one thought to
+      turn on the extra lights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It brought the first word from Watson. He threw up both arms before his
+      face; like one shutting out the lightning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo; he begged. &ldquo;Don't! Shut off the lights; you will blind me!
+      Please; please! Darken the room!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry sprang to the switch. Instantly the place went to shadow; there
+      was just enough light from the moon to distinguish the several forms
+      grouped in the middle of the room. Dr. Hansen proffered a chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you! Ah! Dr. Hansen! You are here&mdash;I had thought&mdash;This is
+      much better! I can see fairly well now. You came very near to blinding me
+      permanently! You didn't know. It's the transition.&rdquo; Then: &ldquo;And yet&mdash;of
+      course! It's the moon! THE MOON!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped. There was a strange wistfulness in the last word. And suddenly
+      he rose to his feet. He turned in gladness, as though to drink in the
+      mellow flow of the radiance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The moon! Gentlemen&mdash;doctor&mdash;who are these people? This is the
+      house of the Blind Spot! And it is the moon&mdash;the good old earth! And
+      San Francisco!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped again. There was a bit of indecision and of wonder mixed with
+      his gladness. The stillness was only broken by the scarcely audible voice
+      of Mme. Le Fabre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now we KNOW! It is proven. The sceptics have always asked why the spirits
+      work only in the half light. We know now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson looked to Dr. Hansen. &ldquo;Who is this lady? Who are these others?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you see them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly. It is the lady in the corner; she thinks&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you are a spirit!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson laughed. &ldquo;I a spirit? Try me and see!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; asserted Mme. Le Fabre. &ldquo;You are out of the Blind Spot. I
+      know; it will prove everything!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes; the Spot.&rdquo; Watson hesitated. Again the indecision. There was
+      something latent that he could not recall; though conscious, part of his
+      mind was still in the apparent fog that lingers back into slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand,&rdquo; he spoke. &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Sir Henry this time. &ldquo;Mr. Watson, we are a sort of committee. This
+      is the house at 288 Chatterton Place. We are after the great secret that
+      was discovered by Dr. Holcomb. We were summoned by Hobart Fenton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Consciousness is an enigma. Hitherto Watson had been almost inert; his
+      actions and manner of speech had been mechanical. That it was the natural
+      result of the strange force that had thrown him out, no one doubted. The
+      mention of Hobart Fenton jerked him into the full vigour of wide-awake
+      thinking; he straightened himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart! Hobart Fenton! Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That we do not know,&rdquo; answered Sir Henry. &ldquo;He was here a moment ago. It
+      is almost too impossible for belief. Perhaps you can tell us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. Into the Blind Spot. One and the other; your coming was
+      coincident with his going!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick raised up. Even in that faint light they could appreciate the full
+      vigour of his splendid form. He was even more of an athlete than in his
+      college days, before the Blind Spot took him. And when he realised what
+      Sir Henry had said he held up one magnificent arm, almost in the manner of
+      benediction:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart has gone through? Thank Heaven for that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a puzzle. True, in that little group there was represented the
+      accumulated wisdom of human effort. With the possible exception of the
+      general, there was not a sceptic among them. They were ready to explain
+      almost anything&mdash;but this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the natural weakness of futility they had come to associate the aspect
+      of death or terror with the Blind Spot. Yet, here was Watson! Watson,
+      alive and strong; he was the reverse of what they had subconsciously
+      expected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is this Blind Spot?&rdquo; inquired Sir Henry evenly. &ldquo;And what do you
+      mean by giving thanks that Fenton has gone into it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not now. Not one word of explanation until&mdash;What time is it?&rdquo; Watson
+      broke off to demand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They told him. He began to talk rapidly, with amazing force and decision,
+      and in a manner whose sincerity left no chance for doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we have five hours! Not one second to lose. Do what I say, and
+      answer my questions!&rdquo; Then: &ldquo;We must not fail; one slip, and the whole
+      world will be engulfed&mdash;in the unknown! Turn on the lights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was that in the personality and the vehemence of the man that
+      precluded opposition. Out of the Blind Spot had come a dynamic quality,
+      along with the man; a quickening influence that made Watson swift, sure,
+      and positive. Somehow they knew it was a moment of Destiny.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, did Hobart Fenton open the Spot? Or was it a period? By 'period' I
+      mean, did it open by chance, as it did when it caught Harry and me? Just
+      what did Hobart do? Tell me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a singular question. How could they answer it? However, Dr. Malloy
+      related as much as he knew of what Hobart had done; his wires and
+      apparatus were now merely a tangled mass of fused metals. Nothing remained
+      intact but the blue gem and the red pebble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. And this pebble: you found it by digging in the cellar, I
+      suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      How did he know that? Dr. Hansen brought that curiously heavy little stone
+      and laid it in Watson's hand. The newcomer touched it with his finger, and
+      for a brief moment he studied it. Then he looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's the small one,&rdquo; he stated. &ldquo;And you found it in the cellar. It was
+      very fortunate; the opening of the Spot was perhaps a little more than
+      half chance. But it was wonderfully lucky. It let me out. And with the
+      help of God and our own courage we may open it again, long enough to
+      rescue Hobart, Harry, and Dr. Holcomb. Then&mdash;we must break the chain&mdash;we
+      must destroy the revelation; we must close the Spot forever!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Small wonder that they couldn't understand what he meant. Dr. Hansen
+      thought to cut in with a practical question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Chick, what's inside the Spot? We want to know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not Watson who answered. It was Mme. Le Fabre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spirits, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson gave a sudden laugh. This time he answered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear lady, if you know what I know, and what Dr. Holcomb has
+      discovered, you would ask YOURSELF a question or so. Possibly you yourself
+      are a spirit!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;I&mdash;a spirit!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly. But there is no time for questions. Afterwards&mdash;not now.
+      Five hours, and we must&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Someone came to the door. It was Jerome. At the sight of Watson he
+      stopped, clutching the stub of his cigar between his teeth. His grey eyes
+      took in the other's form from head to shoe leather.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Back?&rdquo; he inquired. &ldquo;What did you find out, Watson? They must have fed
+      you well over yonder!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Jerome pointed toward the ceiling with his thumb. It wasn't in his
+      dour nature to give way to enthusiasm; this was merely his manner of
+      welcome. Watson smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The eats were all right, Jerome, but not all the company. You're just the
+      man I want. We have little time; none to spare for talk. Are you in touch
+      with Bertha Holcomb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The detective nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson took the chair that Fenton had so strangely vacated and reached for
+      paper and pencil. Once or twice he stopped to draw a line, but mostly he
+      was calculating. He referred constantly to a paper he took from his
+      pocket. When he was through he spread his palm over what he had written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jerome!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are no longer connected with headquarters, I presume. But&mdash;can
+      you get men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If need be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will need them!&rdquo; Just then Watson noticed the uniform of General
+      Hume. &ldquo;Jerome, can you give this officer a bodyguard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was both unusual and lightning-sudden. Nevertheless, there was
+      something in Watson's manner that called for no challenge; something that
+      would have brooked no refusal. And the general, although a sceptic, was
+      acting solely from force of habit when he objected:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me, Watson, that you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Those who were present are not likely to forget it. Some men are born,
+      some rise, to the occasion; but Watson was both. He was clear-cut,
+      dominant, inexorable. He levelled his pencil at the general.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It SEEMS to you! General, let me ask you: If your country's safety were
+      at stake, would you hesitate to throw reinforcements into the breach?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right. It's settled. Take care of your red tape AFTERWARDS.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He wheeled to the detective. &ldquo;Jerome, this is a sketch of the compartments
+      of Dr. Holcomb's safe. Not the large one in his house, but the small one
+      in his laboratory. Go straight to Dwight Way. Give this note,&rdquo; indicating
+      another paper, &ldquo;to Bertha Holcomb. Tell her that her father is safe, and
+      that I am out of the Blind Spot. Tell her you have come to open the
+      laboratory safe. I've written down the combination. If it doesn't work use
+      explosives; there's nothing inside which force can harm. In the
+      compartment marked 'X' you will find a small particle about the size of a
+      pea, wrapped in tin-foil, and locked in a small metal box. You will have
+      to break the box. As for the contents, once you see the stone you can't
+      mistake it; it will weigh about six pounds. Get it, and guard it with your
+      life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome put Watson's instructions in his wallet, at the same time glancing
+      about the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Fenton?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Watson who answered. He gave us the first news that had ever come
+      from the Blind Spot. He spoke with firm deliberation, as though in full
+      realisation of the sensation:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart Fenton has gone through the Blind Spot. Just now he is right here
+      in this room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry jumped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In this room! Is that what you said, Watson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other ignored him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jerome, you haven't a minute to lose! You and the general; bring that
+      stone back to this house at ANY cost! Hurry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In another moment Jerome and Hume were gone. And few people, that day,
+      suspected the purport of that body of silent men who crossed over the Bay
+      of San Francisco. They were grim, and trusted, and under secret orders.
+      They had a mission, did they but know it, as important as any in history.
+      But they knew only that they were to guard Jerome and the general at all
+      hazards. One peculiarly heavy stone, &ldquo;the size of a pea&rdquo;! How are we ever
+      to calculate its value?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the group remaining with Watson, not one of them ever dreamed that
+      any danger might come out of the Blind Spot. Its manifestations had been
+      local and mostly negative. No; the main incentive of their interest had
+      been simply curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But apparently Watson was above them all. He paid no further attention to
+      them for a while; he bent at Fenton's desk and worked swiftly. At length
+      he thrust his papers aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to see that cellar,&rdquo; he announced. &ldquo;That is, the point where you
+      found that red pebble!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Down in the basement, Sir Henry gave the details. When he came to mention
+      the various liquids which Fenton had poured into the woodwork upstairs
+      Watson examined the pool intently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite so. They would come out here&mdash;naturally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naturally!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Henry could not understand. His perplexity was reflected in the faces
+      of Herold, the two physicians, Dr. Malloy, Miss Clarke, and Mme. Le Fabre&mdash;and
+      Charlotte spoke for them all:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you explain, Mr. Watson? The woodwork had nothing whatever to do
+      with the cellar. There was the floor between, just as you see it now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naturally,&rdquo; Watson repeated. &ldquo;It could be no other place! It was on its
+      way to the other side, but it could go only half-way. Simply a matter of
+      focus, you know. I beg pardon; you must hold your curiosity a little
+      longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He began measuring. First he located the line across the floorjoists
+      overhead, where rested the partition separating the dining-room from the
+      parlour. Finding the middle of this line, he dropped an improvised
+      plumb-line to the ground; and from this spot as centre, using a string
+      about ten feet long, he described a circle on the earth. Then, referring
+      to his calculations, he proceeded to locate several points with small
+      stakes pressed into the soil. Then he checked them off and nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's even better than the professor thought. His theory is all but
+      proven. If Jerome and Hume can deliver the other stone without accident,
+      we can save those now inside the Spot.&rdquo; Then, very solemnly: &ldquo;But we face
+      a heavy task. It will be another Thermopylae. We must hold the gate
+      against an occult Xerxes, together with all his horde.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The hosts of the dead!&rdquo; exclaimed Mme. Le Fabre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; the living! Just give me time, Madame, and you will see something
+      hitherto undreamed of. As for your theory&mdash;tomorrow you may doubt
+      whether you are living or dead! In other words, Dr. Holcomb has certainly
+      proved the occult by material means. He has done it with a vengeance. In
+      so doing he has left us in doubt as to ourselves; and unless he discovers
+      the missing factor within the next few hours we are going to be in the
+      anomalous position of knowing plenty about the next world, but nothing
+      about ourselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused. He must have known that their curiosity could not hold out much
+      longer. He said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, just one thing more, friends, and I can tell you everything, while
+      we are waiting for Jerome and the general to return. But first I must see
+      the one who preceded me out of the spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ariadne!&rdquo; from Charlotte, in wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ariadne!&rdquo; exclaimed Watson. He was both puzzled and amazed. &ldquo;Did you call
+      her&mdash;Ariadne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is upstairs,&rdquo; cut in Dr. Higgins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must see her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A minute or two later they stood in the room where the girl lay. The
+      coverlet was thrown back somewhat revealing the bare left arm and
+      shoulder, and the delicately beautiful face upon the pillow. Her golden
+      hair was spread out in riotous profusion. The other hand was just
+      protruding from the coverlet, and displayed a faint red mark, showing
+      where Hobart's bracelet had been fastened at the moment he disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte stepped over and laid her hand against the girl's cheek. &ldquo;Isn't
+      she wonderful!&rdquo; she murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Dr. Higgins looked to Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other nodded. He stooped over and listened to her breathing. His
+      manner was that of reverence and admiration. He touched her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see how it must have happened. Precisely what I experienced, only&mdash;&rdquo;
+       Then: &ldquo;You call her Ariadne?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had to call her something,&rdquo; replied Charlotte. &ldquo;And the name&mdash;it
+      just came, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps. Anyhow, it was a remarkably good guess. Her true name is the
+      Aradna.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;THE Aradna? Who&mdash;what is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just that: the Aradna. She is one of the factors that may save us. And on
+      earth we would call her queen.&rdquo; Then, without waiting for the inevitable
+      question, Watson said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your professional judgment will soon come to the supreme test, Dr.
+      Higgins. She is simply numbed and dazed from coming through the Spot.&rdquo;
+       Charlotte had already described to him the girl's arrival. &ldquo;The mystery is
+      that she was permitted an hour of rationality before this came upon her. I
+      wonder if Hobart's vitality had anything to do with it?&rdquo;&mdash;half to
+      himself. &ldquo;As for the Rhamda&rdquo;&mdash;he smiled&mdash;&ldquo;he is merely
+      interested in the Spot; that is all. He would never harm the Aradna; he
+      had nothing whatever to do with her condition. We were mistaken about the
+      man. Anyway, it is the Spot of Life that interests us now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Spot of Life,&rdquo; repeated Sir Henry. &ldquo;Is that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; the Blind Spot, as it is known from the other side. It overtops all
+      your sciences, embraces every cult, and lies at the base of all truth. It
+      is&mdash;it is everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Explain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson turned to the head upon the pillow. He ventured to touch the cheek,
+      with a trace of tenderness in his action and of wistfulness near to
+      reverence. It was not love; it was rather as one might touch a fairy. In
+      both spirit and substance she was truly of another world. Watson gave a
+      soft sigh and looked up at the Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I can explain. Now that I know she is well, I shall tell you all I
+      know from the beginning. It's certainly your turn to ask questions. I may
+      not be able to tell you all that you want to know; but at least I know
+      more than any other person this side of the Spot. Let us go down to the
+      library.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced at a clock. &ldquo;We have nearly five hours remaining. Our test will
+      come when we open the Spot. We must not only open it, but we must close it
+      at all costs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They had reached the lower hall. At the front door Watson paused and
+      turned to the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a moment. We may fail tonight. In case we do, I would like one last
+      look at my own world&mdash;at San Francisco.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the door. The rest hung back; though they could not understand,
+      they could sense, vaguely, the emotion of this strange man of brave
+      adventure. The scene, the setting, the beauty, were all akin to the
+      moment. Watson, stood bareheaded, looking down at the blinking lights of
+      the city of the Argonauts. The moon in a starlit sky was drifting through
+      a ragged lace of cloud. And over it all was a momentary hush, as though
+      the man's emotion had called for it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No one spoke. At last Watson closed the door. And there was just the trace
+      of tears in his eyes as he spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now my friends&mdash;&rdquo; And led the way into the parlour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXIX. &mdash; THE OCCULT WORLD
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In telling what I know,&rdquo; began Watson, &ldquo;I shall use a bit of a preface.
+      It's necessary, in a way, if you are to understand me; besides, it will
+      give you the advantage of looking into the Blind Spot with the clear eyes
+      of reason. I intend to tell all, to omit nothing. My purpose in doing this
+      is that, in case we should fail tonight, you will be able to give my
+      account to the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strange introduction. His listeners exchanged thoughtful glances.
+      But they all affirmed, and Sir Henry hitched his chair almost impatiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, Mr. Watson. Please proceed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To begin with,&rdquo; said Watson, &ldquo;I assume that you all know of Dr. Holcomb's
+      announcement concerning the Blind Spot. You remember that he promised to
+      solve the occult; how he foretold that he would prove it not by immaterial
+      but by the very material means; that he would produce the fact and the
+      substance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, the professor had promised to deliver something far greater than he
+      had thought it to be. At the same time, what he knew of the Blind Spot was
+      part conjecture and part fact. Like his forebears and contemporaries, he
+      looked upon man as the real being.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's a question, now, as to which is reality and which is not. There
+      is not a branch of philosophy that looks upon the question in that light.
+      Bishop Berkeley came near and he has been followed by others; but they all
+      have been deceived by their own sophistry. However, except for the
+      grossest materialists, all thinkers take cognizance of a hereafter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one dreamed of a Blind Spot and what it may lead to, what it might
+      contain. We are five-sensed; we interpret the universe by the measure of
+      five yardsticks. Yet, the Blind Spot takes even those away; the more we
+      know, it seems, the less certain we are of ourselves. As I said to Mme. Le
+      Fabre, it is a difficult question to determine, after all, just who are
+      the ghosts. At any rate, I KNOW&rdquo;&mdash;and he paused for effect&mdash;&ldquo;I
+      know that there are uncounted millions who look upon us and our workings
+      as entirely supernatural!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember that what I have to tell you is just as real as your own lives
+      have been since babyhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was slightly over a year ago that my last night on the earth arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had gone out for the evening, in the forlorn hope of meeting a friend,
+      of having some slight taste of pleasure before the end came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For several days I had been labouring under a sort of premonition,
+      knowing that my life was slowly seeping away and that my vitality was
+      slipping, bit by bit, to what I thought must be death. Had I then known
+      what I know now, I could have saved myself. But if I had done it, if I had
+      saved myself, we would never have found Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps it was the same fate that led me to Harry, that night. I don't
+      know. Nevertheless, if there is any truth in what I have learned on the
+      other side of the Blind Spot, it would seem that there is something higher
+      than mere fate. I had never believed in luck; but when everything works
+      out to a fraction of a breath, one ceases to be sceptical on the question
+      of destiny and chance. <i>I</i> say, everything that happened that night
+      was FORCED from the other side. In short, my giving that ring to Harry was
+      simply a link in the chain of circumstances. It just had to be; the
+      PROPHECY would not have had it otherwise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Without stopping to explain what he meant by the word &ldquo;prophecy,&rdquo; Watson
+      went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what makes it puzzling. I have never been able to understand how
+      every bit has dovetailed with such exactness. We&mdash;you and I&mdash;are
+      certainly not supernatural; and yet, on the other side of the Spot, the
+      proof is overwhelmingly convincing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was very weak that night. So weak that it is difficult for me to
+      remember. The last I recollect was my going to the back of the house; to
+      the kitchen, I think. I had a light in my hands. The boys were in the
+      front room, waiting. One of them had opened a door some yards away from
+      where I stood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Coming as it did, on the instant, it is difficult to describe. But I knew
+      it instinctively for what it was: the dot of blue on the ceiling, and the
+      string of light. Then, a sensation of falling, like dropping into space
+      itself. It is hard to describe the horrifying terror of plunging head on
+      from an immense height to a plain at a vastly lower level.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that's all that I remember&mdash;from this side.&rdquo; [Footnote: NOTE.&mdash;In
+      justice to Mr. Watson, the present writers have thought it best at this
+      stage to transpose the story from the first to the third person. Any
+      narrative, unless it is negative in its material, is hard to give in the
+      first person; for where the narrator has played an active, positive part,
+      he must either curb himself or fall under the slur of braggadocio. Yet,
+      the world wants the details exactly as they happened; hence the
+      transposition. EDITORS.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson opened his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first thing was light and a sense of great pain. There was a pressure
+      at the back of the eyeballs, a poignant sensation not unlike a
+      knife-thrust; that, and a sudden fear of madness, of drivelling
+      helplessness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The abrupt return of consciousness in such a condition is not easy to
+      imagine. After all he had gone through, this strange sequel must have been
+      terribly puzzling to him. He was a man of good education, well versed in
+      psychology; in the first rush of consciousness he tried, as best he could,
+      to weigh himself up in the balance of aberration. And it was this very
+      fact that gave him his reassurance; for it told him that he could think,
+      could reason, could count on a mind in full function.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he could not see. The pain in his eyeballs was blinding. There was
+      nothing he could distinguish; everything was woven together, a mere blaze
+      of wonderful, iridescent, blazing coloration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if he could not see, he could feel. The pain was excruciating. He
+      closed his eyes and fell to thinking, curiously enough, that the
+      experience was similar to what he had gone through when upon learning to
+      swim, he had first opened his eyes under the water. It had been under a
+      blazing sun. The pain and the colour&mdash;it was much the same, only
+      intensified.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he knew that he was very tired. The mere effort of that one thought
+      had cost him vitality. He dropped back into unconsciousness, such as was
+      more insensibility than slumber. He had strange dreams, of people walking,
+      of women, and of many voices. It was blurred and indistinct, yet somehow
+      not unreal. Then, after an unguessable length of time&mdash;he awoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was much stronger. The lapse may have been very long; he could not
+      know. But the pain in his eyes was gone; and he ventured to open the lids
+      again in the face of the light that had been so baffling. This time he
+      could see; not distinctly, but still enough to assure him of reality. By
+      closing his eyes at intervals he was able to rest them and to accustom
+      them gradually to the new degree of light. And after a bit he could see
+      plainly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was on a cot, and in a room almost totally different from any that he
+      had ever seen before. The colour of the walls, even, was dissimilar;
+      likewise the ceiling. It was white, in a way, and yet unlike it; neither
+      did it resemble any of the various tints; to give it a name that he
+      afterward learned&mdash;alna&mdash;implies but little. It was utterly new
+      to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Apparently he was alone. The room was not large; about the size of an
+      ordinary bedroom. And after the first novelty of the unplaceable colour
+      had worn off he began to take stock of his own person.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      First, he was covered by the finest of bed clothing, thick but exceedingly
+      light. There was no counterpane, but two blankets and two sheets; and none
+      of them corresponded to any colour or material he had ever known. He only
+      knew that their tints were light rather than dark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next, he moved his hands out from under the coverings, and held them up
+      before his eyes. He was immensely puzzled. He naturally expected to see
+      the worn, emaciated hands which had been his on that dramatic night; but
+      the ones before him were plump, normal, of a healthy pink. The wrists
+      likewise were in perfect condition, also his arms. He could not account
+      for this sudden return to health, of the vigour he had known before he
+      began to wear the ring. He lay back pondering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he fell to examining his clothes. There were two garments made
+      of a silk-like textile, rather heavy as to weight, but exceedingly soft as
+      to touch. They were slightly darker than the bed clothing. In a way they
+      were much like pyjamas, except that both were designed to be merely
+      slipped into place, without buttons or draw-strings. That is, they were
+      tailored to fit snugly over the shoulders and waist, while loose enough
+      elsewhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he noticed the walls of the room. They were after a simple,
+      symmetrical style; coved&mdash;to use an architectural expression&mdash;or
+      curved, where the corner would come with a radius much larger than common,
+      amounting to four or five feet; so that a person of ordinary height could
+      not stand close to the wall without stooping. Where the coved portion
+      flowed into the perpendicular of the wall there was a broad moulding, like
+      a plate rail, which acted as a support for the hanging pictures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson counted four of these pictures. Instinctively he felt that they
+      might give him a valuable clue as to his whereabouts. For, while his mind
+      had cleared enough for him to feel sure that he had truly come through the
+      Spot, he knew nothing more. Where was he? What would the pictures tell?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first was directly before his eyes. In size perhaps two by three feet,
+      with its greater length horizontal, it was more of a landscape than a
+      portrait. And Watson's eagerness for the subject itself made him forget to
+      note whether the work was mechanically or manually executed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For it revealed a girl&mdash;about ten or twelve&mdash;very slightly
+      draped, enjoying a wild romp with a most extraordinary creature. It was
+      this animal that made the picture amazing; there was no subtle
+      significance in the scene&mdash;there was nothing remarkable about the
+      technique. The whole interest, for Watson, was in the animal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a deer; perfect and beautiful, but cast in a Lilliputian mould. It
+      stood barely a foot high, the most delicate thing he had ever looked upon.
+      Mature in every detail of its proportion, the dainty hoofs, the fragile
+      legs, smooth-coated body, and small, wide-antlered head&mdash;a miniature
+      eight-pointer&mdash;made such a vision as might come to the dreams of a
+      hunter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick rose up in bed, in order to examine it more closely. Immediately he
+      fell back again slightly dizzy. He closed his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shortly he began examining the other pictures. Two of these were simple
+      flower studies. Watson scarcely knew which puzzled him most; the blossoms
+      or their containers. For the vases were like large-sized loving cups,
+      broad as to body, and provided with a handle on either side. Their colours
+      were unfamiliar. As for the blossoms&mdash;in one study the blooms were a
+      half-dozen in number, and more like Shasta daisies than anything else. But
+      their colour was totally unlike, while they possessed wide, striped
+      stamens that gave the flowers an identity all their own. In the other vase
+      were several varieties, and every one absolutely unrecognisable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the opposite side of the room was something fairly familiar. At first
+      glance it seemed a simple basket of kittens, done in black and white&mdash;something
+      like crayon, and yet resembling sepia. Alongside the basket, however, was
+      a spoon, one end resting on the edge of a saucer. And it was the size of
+      the spoon that commanded Chick's attention; rather, the size of the
+      kittens, any one of which could have curled up comfortably in the bowl of
+      the spoon! Judging relatively, if it were an ordinary tablespoon, then the
+      kittens were smaller than the smallest of mice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick gave it up. Presently he began speculating about the time. He
+      decided that, whatever the hour might be, it was still daylight. In one
+      wall of the room was a large, oval window, of a material which may as well
+      be called glass, frosted, so as to permit no view of what might lie
+      outside. But it allowed plenty of light to enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cut in the opposite wall was a doorway, hung with a curtain instead of a
+      door. This curtain was a gauzy material, but its maroonlike shade
+      completely hid all view of whatever lay beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick waited and listened. Hitherto he had not heard a sound. There was
+      not even that subtle, mixed hum from the distance that we are accustomed
+      to associate with silence. He felt certain that he was inside the Blind
+      Spot; but as to just where that locality might lie, he knew as little as
+      before. He knew only that he in a building of some sort. Where, and what,
+      was the building?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then he noticed a cord dangling from the ceiling. It came down to
+      within six inches of his head. He gave it a pull.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon he heard a faint, musical jangling in the distance. He tried to
+      analyse the sound. It was not bell-like; perhaps the word &ldquo;tinkling&rdquo; would
+      serve better. Provisionally, Chick placed the key at middle D.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later he heard steps outside the curtain. They were very soft and
+      light and deliberate; and almost at the same instant a delicate white hand
+      moved the curtain aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a woman. Chick lay back and wondered. Although not beautiful she
+      was very good to look at, with large blue eyes of a deep tenderness and
+      sympathy, even features, and a wonderful fold of rich brown hair held in
+      place by a satiny net.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She started when she saw Chick's wide open eyes; then smiled, a motherly
+      smile and compassionate. She was dressed in a manner at once becoming and
+      odd, to one unaccustomed, in a gown that draped the entire figure, yet
+      left the right arm and shoulder bare. Chick noticed that arm especially;
+      it was white as marble, moulded full, and laced with fine blue veins. He
+      had never seen an arm like that. Nor such a woman. She might have been
+      forty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She came over to the bed and placed a hand on Chick's forehead. Again she
+      smiled, and nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you feel?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this is a strange thing; Watson could not account for it. For,
+      although she did not speak English, yet he could understand her quite
+      well. At the moment it seemed perfectly obvious; afterward, the fact
+      became amazing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He answered in the same way, his thoughts directing his lips. And he found
+      that as long as he made no conscious attempt to select the words for his
+      thought, he could speak unhesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where am I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled indulgently, but did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this the&mdash;Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Blind Spot! I do not understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your nurse. Perhaps,&rdquo; soothingly, &ldquo;you would like to talk to the Rhamda.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. The Rhamda Geos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXX. &mdash; THE PLUNGE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The woman left him. For a while Chick reflected upon what she had said. In
+      full rush of returning vigour his mind was working clearly and with
+      analytical exactness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time he noticed a heaviness in the air, overladen, pregnant.
+      He became aware of a strange, undercurrent of life; of an exceedingly
+      faint, insistent sound, pulse-like and rhythmical, like the breathing
+      undertones of multitudes. He was a city man, and accustomed to the
+      murmuring throbs of a metropolitan heart. But this was very different.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently, amid the strangeness, he could distinguish the tinkle of elfin
+      bells, almost imperceptible, but musical. The whole air was laden with a
+      subdued music, lined, as it were, with a golden vibrancy of tintinnabulary
+      cadence&mdash;distant, subdued, hardly more than a whisper, yet part of
+      the air itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It gave him the feeling that he was in a dream. In the realms of the
+      subconscious he had heard just such sounds&mdash;exotic and unearthly&mdash;fleeting
+      and evanescent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The notion of dreams threw his mind into sudden alertness. In an instant
+      he was thinking systematically, and in the definite realisation of his
+      plight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman had spoken of &ldquo;the Rhamda.&rdquo; True, she had added a qualifying
+      &ldquo;Geos,&rdquo; but that did not matter. Whether Geos or Avec, it was still the
+      Rhamda. By this time Watson was convinced that the word indicated some
+      sort of title&mdash;whether doctor, or lord, or professor, was not
+      important. What interested Chick was identity. If he could solve that he
+      could get at the crux of the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He thought quickly. Apparently, it was Rhamda Avec who had trapped Dr.
+      Holcomb. Why? What had been the man's motive? Watson could not say. He
+      only knew the ethics of the deed was shaded with the subtleness of
+      villainy. That behind it all was a purpose, a directing force and
+      intelligence that was inexorable and irresistible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One other thing he knew; the Rhamda Avec came out of the region in which
+      he, Watson, now found himself. Rather, he could have come from nowhere
+      else. And Watson could feel certain that somewhere, somehow, he would find
+      Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In that moment Watson determined upon his future course of action. He
+      decided to state nothing, intimate nothing, either by word or deed, that
+      might in any manner incriminate or endanger the professor. It was for him
+      to learn everything possible and to do all he could to gain his points,
+      without giving a particle of information in return. He must play a lone
+      hand and a cautious one&mdash;until he found Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fact of his position didn't appall him. Somehow, it had just the
+      opposite effect. Perhaps it was because his strength had come back, and
+      had brought with it the buoyancy that is natural to health. He could sense
+      the vitality that surrounded him, poised, potential, waiting only the
+      proper attitude on his part to become an active force. Something
+      tremendous had happened to him, to make him feel like that. He was ready
+      for anything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five minutes passed. Watson was alert and ready when the woman returned,
+      together with a companion. She smiled kindly, and announced:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda Geos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At first Chick was startled. There was a resemblance to Rhamda Avec that
+      ran almost to counterpart. The same refinement and elegance, the fleeting
+      suggestion of youth, the evident age mingled with the same athletic ease
+      and grace of carriage. Only he was somewhat shorter. The eyes were almost
+      identical, with the peculiar quality of the iris and pupil that suggested,
+      somehow, a culture inherited out of the centuries. He was dressed in a
+      black robe, such as would befit a scholar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled, and held out a hand. Watson noted the firm clasp, and the cold
+      thrill of magnetism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wish to speak with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The voice was soft and modulated, resonant, of a tone as rich as bronze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Where am I&mdash;sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to Watson that there was real astonishment in the man's eyes. As
+      yet it had not come to Chick that he himself might be just as much a
+      mystery as the other. The only question in his mind at the moment was
+      locality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Blind Spot!&rdquo;&mdash;with the same lack of comprehension that the woman
+      had shown. &ldquo;I do not understand you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, how did I get here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, as to that, you were found in the Temple of the Leaf. You were lying
+      unconscious on the floor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A temple! How did I get there, sir? Do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We only know that a moment before there was nothing; next instant&mdash;you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson thought. There was a subconscious sound that still lingered in his
+      memory; a sound full-toned, flooding, enveloping. Was there any connection&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The Temple of the Leaf,' you call it, sir. I seem to remember having
+      heard a bell. Is there such a thing in that temple?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda Geos smiled, his eyes brightening. &ldquo;It is sometimes called the
+      Temple of the Bell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; A pause, and Watson asked, &ldquo;Where is this temple? And is this room a
+      part of the building?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. You are in the Sar-Amenive Hospital, an institution of the Rhamdas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamdas! So there were several of them. A sort of society, perhaps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In San Francisco?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. San Francisco! Again I fail to understand. This locality is known as
+      the Mahovisal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Mahovisal!&rdquo; Watson thought in silence for a moment. He noted the
+      extremely keen interest of the Rhamda, the ultra-intelligent flicker of
+      the eyes, the light of query and critical analysis. &ldquo;You call this the
+      Mahovisal, sir? What is it: town, world or institution?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other smiled again. The lines about his sensitive mouth were
+      susceptible of various interpretations: emotion, or condescension, or the
+      satisfying feeling that comes from the simple vindication of some inner
+      conviction. His whole manner was that of interest and respectful wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have never heard of the Mahovisal? Never?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not until this minute,&rdquo; answered Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no knowledge of anything before? Do you know WHO YOU ARE?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rdquo;&mdash;Watson hesitated, wondering whether he had best withhold this
+      information. He decided to chance the truth. &ldquo;My name is Chick Watson. I
+      am&mdash;an American.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An American?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda pronounced the word with a roll of the &ldquo;r&rdquo; that sounded more
+      like the Chinese &ldquo;Mellican&rdquo; than anything else. It was evident that the
+      sounds were totally unfamiliar to him. And his manner was a bit
+      indefinite, doubtful, yet weighted with care, as he slowly repeated the
+      question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An American? Once more I don't understand. I have never heard the word,
+      my dear sir. You are neither D'Hartian nor Kospian; although there are
+      some&mdash;materialists for the most part&mdash;who contend that you are
+      just as any one else. That is&mdash;a man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I am,&rdquo; returned Watson, utterly confounded. He did not know what
+      to say. He had never heard of a Kospian or a D'Hartian, nor of the
+      Mahovisal. It made things difficult; he couldn't get started. Most of all,
+      he wanted information; and, instead, he was being questioned. The best he
+      could do was to equivocate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the Rhamda, he frowned. Apparently his eager interest had been
+      dashed with disappointment. But only slightly, as Watson could see; the
+      man was of such culture and intellect as to have perfect control over his
+      emotions. In his balance and poise he was very like Avec, and he had the
+      same pleasing manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear sir,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;if you are really a man, then you can tell me
+      something of great importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rdquo; Chick retorted, &ldquo;can tell you nothing until you first let me know just
+      where I stand!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Certainly there was a lack of common ground. Until one of them supplied
+      it, there could be no headway. Watson realised that his whole future might
+      revolve about the axis of his next words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda thought a moment, dubiously, like one who has had a pet theory
+      damaged, though not shattered. Suddenly he spoke to the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Open the portal,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stepped to the oval window, touched a latch, and swung the pane
+      horizontally upon two pivots. Immediately the room was flooded with a
+      strange effulgence, amber-like, soft and mellow, as real sunshine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was NOT real sunshine!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The window was set in a rather thick wall, beyond which Watson could see a
+      royal sapphiric sky, flecked with white and purple and amethyst-threaded
+      clouds poised above a great amber sleeping sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the sun that challenged attention. It was so mild, and yet so
+      utterly beyond what might be expected. In diameter it would have made six
+      of the one Watson had known; in the blue distance, touching the rim of the
+      horizon, it looked exactly like a huge golden plate set edgewise on the
+      end of the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And&mdash;he could look straight at it without blinking!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His thoughts ran back to the first account of the Rhamda. The man had
+      looked straight at the sun and had been blinded. This accounted for it!
+      The man had been accustomed to this huge, soft-glowing beauty. An amberous
+      sun, deep yellow, sleeping; could it be, after all, dreamland?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there were other things: the myriad tintinnabulations of these
+      microscopic bells, never ceasing, musically throbbing; and now, the exotic
+      delight of the softest of perfumes, an air barely tinted with violet and
+      rose, and the breath of woodland wild flowers. He could not comprehend it.
+      He looked at the purple clouds above the lotus sun, hardly believing, and
+      deeply in doubt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A great white bird dived suddenly out of the heavens and flew into the
+      focus of his vision. In all the tales of his boyhood, of large and
+      beautiful rocs and other birds, he had come across nothing like this. From
+      the perspective it must have measured a full three hundred feet from tip
+      to tip; it was shaped like a swan and flew like an eagle, with
+      magnificent, lazy sweeps of the wings; while its plumage was as white as
+      the snow, new fallen on the mountains. And right behind it, in pursuit,
+      hurtled a huge black thing, fully as large and just as swift; a tremendous
+      black crow, so black that its sides gave off a greenish shimmer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then the woman closed the window. It was as well; Watson was only
+      human, and he could hide his curiosity just so long and no longer. He
+      turned to the Rhamda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man nodded. &ldquo;I thought so,&rdquo; said he with satisfaction, as one might
+      who has proven a pet and previous theory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson tried from another angle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just who do you think I am, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other smiled as before. &ldquo;It is not what I may think,&rdquo; he replied: &ldquo;but
+      what I know. You are the proof that was promised us by the great Rhamda
+      Avec. You are&mdash;THE FACT AND THE SUBSTANCE!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He waited for Watson's answer. Stupefaction delayed it. After a moment the
+      Rhamda continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not so? Am I not right? You are surely out of the occult, my dear
+      sir. You are a spirit!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It took Chick wholly by surprise. He had been ready to deal with anything&mdash;but
+      this. It was unreal, weird, impossible. And yet, why not? The professor
+      had set out to remove forever the screen that had hitherto shrouded the
+      shadow: but what had he revealed? What had the Spot disclosed? Unreality
+      or REALITY? Which is which?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the inspiration of the moment, Chick saw that he had reached the
+      crossroads of the occult. There was no time to think; there was time only
+      for a plunge. And, like all strong men, Watson chose the deeper water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned to the Rhamda Geos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he quietly. &ldquo;I&mdash;am a spirit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXI. &mdash; UP FOR BREATH
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Rhamda Geos, instead of showing the concern and uneasiness that most men
+      would show in the presence of an avowed ghost, evinced nothing but a deep
+      and reverent happiness. He took Watson's hand almost shyly. And while his
+      manner was not effusive, it had the warmth that comes from the heart of a
+      scholar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a Rhamda,&rdquo; he declared, &ldquo;I must commend myself for being the first to
+      speak to you. And I must congratulate you, my dear sir, on having fallen,
+      not into the hands of Bar Senestro, but into those of my own kind. It is a
+      proof of the prophecy, and a vindication of the wisdom of the Ten
+      Thousand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I bid you welcome to the Thomahlia, and I offer you my services, as guide
+      and sponsor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick did not reply at once. The chance he had taken was one of those rare
+      decisions that come to genius; the whole balance of his fate might swing
+      upon his sudden impulse. Not that he had any compunction; but he felt that
+      it tied him down. It restricted him. Certainly almost any role would be
+      easier than that of a spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He didn't feel like a ghost. He wondered just how a ghost would act,
+      anyhow. What was more, he could not understand such a queer assumption on
+      the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a ghost? Watson was
+      natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda. This was scarcely his idea
+      of a phantom's life. Most certainly, the two of them were men, nothing
+      else; if one was a wraith, so was the other. But&mdash;how to account for
+      it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again he thought of Rhamda Avec. The words of Geos, &ldquo;The Fact and the
+      Substance,&rdquo; had been exactly synonymous with what had been said of Avec by
+      Dr. Holcomb, &ldquo;The proof of the occult.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Was it indeed possible that these two great ones, from opposite poles, had
+      actually torn away the veil of the shadow? And was this the place where
+      he, Watson, must pose as a spirit, if he were to be accepted as genuine?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought was a shock. He must play the same part here that the Rhamda
+      had played on the other side of the Spot; but he would have to do it
+      without the guiding wisdom of Avec. Besides, there was something sinister
+      in the unknown force that had engulfed so strong a mind as the
+      professor's; for while Watson's fate had been of his own seeking, that of
+      the doctor smacked too much of treachery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned to the Rhamda Geos with a new question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This Rhamda Avec&mdash;was he a man like yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other brightened again, and asked in return:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have seen him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I do not know,&rdquo; answered Watson, caught off his guard. &ldquo;But the
+      name is familiar. I don't remember well. My mind is vague and confused. I
+      recall a world, a wonderful world it was from which I came, and a great
+      many people. But I can't place myself; I hardly&mdash;let me see&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other nodded sympathetic approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand. Don't exert yourself. It is hardly to be expected that one
+      forced out of the occult could come among us with his faculties
+      unimpaired. We have had many communications with your world, and have
+      always been frustrated by this one gulf which may not be crossed. When
+      real thought gets across the border, it is often indefinite, sometimes
+      mere drivel. Such answers as come from the void are usually disappointing,
+      no matter how expert our mediums may be in communicating with the dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The dead! Did you say&mdash;the dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; the dead. Are you not of the dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson shook his head emphatically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely not! Not where I came from. We are all very much alive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other watched him curiously, his great eyes glowing with enthusiasm;
+      the enthusiasm of the born seeker of the truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;that you have the same passions that we have
+      here in life?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; said Watson, &ldquo;that we hate, love, swear; we are good and we are
+      evil; and we play games and go fishing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Geos rubbed his hands in a dignified sort of glee. What had been said
+      coincided, apparently, with another of his pet theories.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is splendid,&rdquo; he exulted, &ldquo;splendid! And just in line with my thesis.
+      You shall tell it before the Council of the Rhamdas. It will be the
+      greatest day since the speaking of the Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson wondered just who this Jarados might be; but for the moment he went
+      back to the previous question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This Rhamda Avec: you were about to tell me about him. Let me have as
+      much as I can understand, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! The great Rhamda Avec. Perhaps you may recall him when your mind
+      clears a little more. My dear sir, he is, or was, the chief of the Rhamdas
+      of all the Thomahlia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the 'Thomahlia'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Thomahlia! Why, it is called the world; our name for the world. It
+      comprises, physically, land, water and air; politically, it embraces
+      D'Hartia, Kospia and a few minor nations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are the Rhamdas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are the heads of&mdash;of the Thomahlia; not the nominal nor
+      political nor religious heads&mdash;they are neither judicial, executive
+      nor legislative; but the real heads, still above. They might be called the
+      supreme college of wisdom, of science and of research. Also, they are the
+      keepers of the bell and its temple, and the interpreters of the Prophecy
+      of the Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. You are a sort of priesthood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. The priesthood is below us. The priests take what orders we choose to
+      give, and are purely&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Superstitious?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda's eyes snapped, just a trifle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all, my dear sir! They are good, sincere men. Only, not being
+      intellectually adept enough to be admitted to the real secrets, the real
+      knowledge, they give to all things a provisional explanation based upon a
+      settled policy. Not being Rhamdas, they are simply not aware that
+      everything has an exact and absolute explanation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In other words,&rdquo; put in Watson, &ldquo;they are scientists; they have not
+      lifted themselves up to the plane of inquisitive doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the Rhamda shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite that, either, my dear sir. Those below us are not ignorant;
+      they are merely nearer to the level of the masses than we are. In fact,
+      they are the people's rulers; these priests and other similar classes. But
+      we, the Rhamdas, are the rulers of the rulers. We differ from them in that
+      we have no material ends to subserve. Being at the top, with no motive
+      save justice and advancement, our judgments are never questioned, and for
+      the same reason, seldom passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we are far above the plane of doubt that you speak of; we passed out
+      of it long ago. That is the first stage of true science; afterwards comes
+      the higher levels where all things have a reason; ethics, inspiration,
+      thought, emotion&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;the judgment of the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson could not have told why he said it. It was impulse, and the
+      impromptu suggestion of a half-thought. But the effect of his words upon
+      the Rhamda and the nurse told him that, inadvertently, he had struck a
+      keynote. Both started, especially the woman. Watson took note of this in
+      particular, because of the ingrained acceptance of the feminine in matter
+      of belief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know?&rdquo; was her eager interruption. &ldquo;You have seen the
+      Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As for the Rhamda, he looked at Watson with shrewd, calculating eyes. But
+      they were still filled with wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you tell us?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Try and think!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick knew that he had gained a point. He had been dealt a trump card; but
+      he was too clever to play it at once. He was on his own responsibility and
+      was carrying a load that required the finest equilibrium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really do not know,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&mdash;I must have time to think.
+      Coming across the border that way you must give me time. You were telling
+      me about the Rhamdas in general; now tell me about Avec in particular.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Geos nodded as though he could understand the fog that beclouded Watson's
+      mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda Avec is, or was, the wisest of them all; the head and the
+      chief, and by far the most able. Few beside his own fellows knew it,
+      however; another than he was the nominal head, and officiated for him
+      whenever necessary. Avec had little social intercourse; he was a
+      prodigious student.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are a body of learned men, you understand, and we stand at the peak of
+      all that has been discovered through hundreds upon hundreds of centuries,
+      so that at the present day we are the culmination of the combined effort
+      and thought of man since the beginning of time. Each generation of Rhamdas
+      must be greater than the one preceding. When I die and pass on to your
+      world I must leave something new and worth-while to my successor; some
+      thought, wisdom, or deed that may be of use to mankind. I cannot be a
+      Rhamda else. We are a set of supreme priests, who serve man at the shrine
+      of intelligence, not of dogma.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, we are not to be judged too highly. All research, when it
+      steps forward must go haltingly; there are many paths into the unknown
+      that look like the real one. Hence, we have among us various schools of
+      thought, and each following a different trail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I myself am a spiritist. I believe that we can, and often have,
+      communicated with your world at various times. There are others who do not
+      grant it; there are Rhamdas who are inclined to lean more to the
+      materialist's side of things, who rely entirely, when it comes to
+      questions of this kind, upon their faith in the teachings of the Jarados.
+      There are some, too, who believe in the value of speculation, and who
+      contend that only through contemplation can man lift himself to the full
+      fruits of realisation. At the head of us all&mdash;the Rhamda Avec!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was his belief?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us say he believed ALL. He was eclectic. He held that we were all of
+      us a bit right, and each of us a whole lot wrong. It was his contention,
+      however, that there was not one thing that could not be proven; that the
+      secret of life, while undoubtedly a secret in every sense of the word, is
+      still very concrete, it could be proven!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson nodded. He remembered hearing another man make just such a
+      statement&mdash;Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For years he worked in private,&rdquo; went on Geos. &ldquo;We never knew just what
+      he was doing; until, one day, he called us together and delivered his
+      lecture.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His lecture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather, his prophecy. For it was all that. Not that he spoke at great
+      length; it was but a talk. He announced that he believed the time had come
+      to prove the occult. That it could be done, and done only through
+      concrete, material means; and that whatever existed, certainly could be
+      demonstrated. He was going to pull aside the curtain that had hitherto cut
+      off the shadow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I am going to prove the occult,' he said. 'In three days I shall return
+      with the fact and the substance. And then I propose to deliver my greatest
+      lecture, my final thesis, in which my whole life shall come to a focus. I
+      shall bring the proof for your eyes and ears, for your fingers to explore
+      and be satisfied. You shall behold the living truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'And the subject of my lecture&mdash;the subject of my lecture will be
+      The Spot of Life.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXII. &mdash; THROUGH UNKNOWN WATERS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The SPOT of Life! And the subject of Dr. Holcomb's lecture, promised but
+      never delivered, had been announced as&mdash;The Blind SPOT!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Watson it was fairly astounding to discover that the two&mdash;Holcomb
+      and Avec&mdash;had reached simultaneously for the curtain of the shadow.
+      The professor had said that it would be &ldquo;the greatest day since Columbus.&rdquo;
+       And so it had proven, did the world but know it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;the Rhamda Avec never returned?&rdquo; asked Chick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he sent back something within three days?&rdquo; Watson was thinking, of
+      course, of the doctor who had disappeared on the day which, Jerome
+      overheard the Rhamda to say, was the last of his stay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Geos did not reply. Why, Chick could not guess. He thought it best not
+      to press the question; in good time, if he went at it carefully, he could
+      gain his end with safety. At the moment he must not arouse suspicion. He
+      chose another query.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did Avec go alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. The Nervina went with him. Rather, she followed within a few hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was out before Watson could think. The Rhamda looked up suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you have seen the Nervina! You know her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick lied. It was not his intention, just at present, to tie himself down
+      to anything that might prove compromising or restraining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The name is&mdash;familiar. Who is this Nervina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is one of the queens. I thought&mdash;My dear sir, she is one of the
+      queens of Thomahlia, half Kospian, half D'Hartian; of the first royal line
+      running through from the day of the Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick cogitated for a moment. Then, taking an entirely new tack:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say the Rhamda and this Nervina, independently, solved the mystery of
+      the Spot of Life, I believe you call it. And that Spot leads, apparently,
+      into the occult?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apparently, if not positively. It was the wisdom of Avec, mostly. He had
+      been in communication with your world by means of his own discovery and
+      application. It was all in line with the prophecy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since he and the Nervina left, the people of the world have been in a
+      state of ferment. For it was foretold that in the last days we would get
+      in communication with the other side; that some would come and some would
+      go. For example, your own coming was foretold by the Jarados, almost to
+      the hour and minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it was fortuitous,&rdquo; spoke Watson. &ldquo;It was NOT the wisdom and science
+      of Avec, in my case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite so. However, it is proof that the Rhamdas have fulfilled their
+      duty. We knew of the Spot of Life, all the while; it was to be closed
+      until we, through the effort of our intellect and virtues, could lift
+      ourselves up to the plane of the world beyond us&mdash;your world. It
+      could not be opened by ourselves alone, however. The Rhamda Avec had first
+      to get in touch with your side, before he could apply the laws he had
+      discovered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Somehow, Chick admired this Rhamda. Men of his type could form but one
+      kind of priesthood: exalted, and devoted to the advance of intelligence.
+      If Rhamda Avec were of the same sort, then he was a man to be looked up
+      to, not to hate. As for the Jarados&mdash;Watson could not make out who he
+      had been; a prophet or teacher, seemingly, looming out of the past and
+      reverenced from antiquity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Blind Spot became a shade less sinister. Already Watson had the Temple
+      of the Leaf, or Bell, the Rhamdas and their philosophy, the great amber
+      sun, the huge birds, the musical cadence of the perfumed air, and the
+      counter-announcement of Rhamda Avec to weigh against the work and words of
+      Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The world of the Blind Spot!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As if in reaction from the unaccustomed train of thought, Watson suddenly
+      became conscious of extreme hunger. He gave an uneasy glance round, a
+      glance which the Rhamda Geos smilingly interpreted. At a word the woman
+      left the room and returned with a crimson garment, like a bath-robe. When
+      Chick had donned it and a pair of silken slippers, Geos bade him follow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They stepped out into the corridor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was formed and coloured much as the room they had quitted; and it led
+      to another apartment, much larger&mdash;about fifty feet across&mdash;coloured
+      a deep, cool green. Its ceiling, coved like the other, seemed made of some
+      self-radiating substance from which came both light and heat. Four or five
+      tables, looking like ebony work, were arranged along the side walls. When
+      they were seated at one of these, the Rhamda placed his fingers on some
+      round alna-white buttons ranged along the edge of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In your world,&rdquo; he apologised, &ldquo;our clumsy service would doubtless amuse
+      you; but it is the best we have been able to devise so far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pressed the button. Instantly, without the slightest sound or anything
+      else to betray just how the thing had been accomplished, the table was
+      covered with golden dishes, heaped with food, and two flagon-like goblets,
+      full to the brim with a dark, greenish liquid that gave off an aroma
+      almost exhilarating; not alcoholic, but something just above that. The
+      Rhamda, disregarding or not noticing Watson's gasp of wonder, lifted his
+      goblet in the manner of the host in health and welcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may drink it,&rdquo; he offered, &ldquo;without fear. It is not liquor&mdash;if I
+      may use a word which I believe to be current in your world. I may add that
+      it is one of the best things that we shall be able to offer you while you
+      are with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Indeed it wasn't liquor. Watson took a sip; and he made a mental note that
+      if all things in the Thomahlia were on a par with this, then he certainly
+      was in a world far above his own. For the one sip was enough to send a
+      thrill through his veins, a thrill not unlike the ecstasy of supreme music&mdash;a
+      sparkling exuberance, leaving the mind clear and scintillating, glorified
+      to the quick thinking of genius.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later Watson experienced no reaction such as would have come from drinking
+      alcohol or any other drug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the strangest meal ever eaten by Watson. The food was very savoury,
+      and perfectly cooked and served. Only one dish reminded him of meat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have meats?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;This looks like flesh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Geos shook his head. &ldquo;No. Do you have flesh to eat, on the other side? We
+      make all our food.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MAKE food. Watson thought best simply to answer the question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I remember it, Rhamda Geos, we had a sort of meat called beef&mdash;the
+      flesh of certain animals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda was intensely interested. &ldquo;Are they large? Some interpret the
+      Jarados to that effect. Tell me, are they like this?&rdquo; And he pulled a
+      silver whistle from his pocket and, placing it to his lips, blew two
+      short, shrill notes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Immediately a peculiar patter sounded down the corridor; a ka-tuck,
+      ka-tuck, ka-tuck, not unlike galloping hoof-beats. Before Watson could do
+      any surmising a little bundle of shining black, rounded the entrance to
+      the room and ran up to them. Geos picked it up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a horse. A horse, beautifully formed, perfect as an Arab, and not
+      more than nine inches high!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, Chick had been in the Blind Spot, conscious, but a short while. He
+      knew that he was in the precise position that Rhamda Avec had occupied
+      that morning on the ferry-boat. Chick recalled the pictures of the
+      Lilliputian deer and the miniature kittens; yet he was immensely
+      surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little fellow began to neigh, a tiny, ridiculous sound as compared
+      with the blast of a normal-sized horse, and began to paw for the edge of
+      the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A drink. They will do anything for it.&rdquo; Geos pressed a button, and in a
+      moment he had another goblet. This he held before the little stallion, who
+      thrust his head in above his nostrils and drank as greedily as a Percheron
+      weighing a ton. Watson stroked his sides; the mane was like spun silk, he
+      felt the legs symmetrical, perfectly shaped, not as large above the
+      fetlocks as an ordinary pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they all of this size?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; all of them. Why do you ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&rdquo;&mdash;seeing no harm in telling this&mdash;&ldquo;as I remember them,
+      a horse on the other side would make a thousand of this one. People ride
+      them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it is told in the books of Jarados. We had such beasts, once,
+      ourselves. We would have them still, but for the brutality and stupidity
+      of our ancestors. It is the one great sin of the Thomahlia. Once we had
+      animals, great and small, and all the blessings of Nature; we had horses
+      and, I think, what you call beef; a thousand other creatures that were
+      food and help and companions to man. And for the good they had done our
+      ancestors destroyed them!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was neglect, unthinking and selfish. A time came when our civilisation
+      made it possible to live without other creatures. When machinery came into
+      vogue we put aside the animals as useless; those we had no further use for
+      we denied the right to reproduce. The game of the forest was hunted down
+      with powerful weapons of destruction; all went, in a century or two;
+      everything that could be killed. And with them went the age of our highest
+      art, that age of domesticated animals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our greatest paintings, our noblest sculpture, came from that age; all
+      the priceless relics that we call classic. And in its stead we had the
+      mechanical age. Man likewise became a mechanism, emotionless, with no
+      taste for Nature. Meat was made synthetically, and so was milk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean to say they did not preserve cows for the sake of their
+      milk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; that kind of milk became old-fashioned; men regarded it as
+      unsanitary, fit only for the calves. What they wanted was something
+      chemically pure; they waged war on bacteria, microbes, and Nature in
+      general; a cow was merely a relic whose product was always an uncertainty.
+      With no reason for the meat and no use for the milk, our vegetarians and
+      our purists gradually eliminated them altogether. It was a strange age;
+      utilitarian, scientific, selfish; it was then headed straight for
+      destruction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he went on to relate how men began to lose the power of emotion; there
+      were no dependent beasts to leaven his nature with the salt of kindness;
+      he thought only of his own aggrandisement. He became like his machine, a
+      fine thing of perfectly correlated parts, but with no higher nature, no
+      soul, no feeling; he was less than a brute. The animals disappeared one by
+      one, passing through the channel of death, into the world beyond the Spot
+      of Life, leaving behind only these tiny survivors, playthings, kept in
+      existence longer than all others because of a mere fad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does your spiritism include animals as well as men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Naturally; everything that is endowed with life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. Let me ask you: why didn't the Rhamdas interfere and put a stop to
+      this wanton sacrilege against Nature?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda smiled. &ldquo;You forget,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;that these events belong far
+      in the past. At that time the Rhamdas were not. It was even before the
+      coming of the Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson asked no more questions for a while. He wanted to think. How could
+      this man Rhamda Geos, if indeed he were a man, accept him, Watson, as a
+      spirit? Solid flesh was not exactly in line with his idea of the
+      unearthly. How to explain it? He had to go back to Holcomb again. The
+      doctor had accepted without question Avec's naturalness, his body, his
+      appetite. Reasonably enough, Geos, with some smattering of his superior's
+      wisdom, should accept Watson in the same way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, the Jarados: at every moment his name had cropped up. Who was
+      he? So far he had heard no word that might be construed as a clue. The
+      great point, just now, was that the Rhamda Geos accepted him as a spirit,
+      as the fact and substance promised by Avec. But&mdash;where was the
+      doctor?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick ventured this question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My coming was foretold by the Rhamda Avec, I understand. Is this in
+      accord with the words of the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda looked up expectantly and spoke with evident anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you tell me anything about the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us forgo that,&rdquo; side-stepped Watson. &ldquo;Possibly I can tell you much
+      that you would like to know. What I want to know is, just how well
+      prepared you are to receive me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you come from the Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you know about him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This: someone should have preceded me! The fact and the substance-you
+      were to have it inside three days! It has been several hundred times the
+      space allotted! Is it not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda's eyes were pin-pointed with eagerness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it IS true! You are from the Jarados! You know the great Rhamda Avec&mdash;you
+      have seen him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have,&rdquo; declared Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the other world? You can remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; again committing himself. &ldquo;I have seen Avec&mdash;in another world.
+      But tell me, before we go on I would have an answer to my question: did
+      anyone precede me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson was nonplussed, but he concealed the fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite, my dear sir. The Spot of Life was watched continually from the
+      moment the Rhamda left us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean, he and the Nervina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite so; she followed him after an interval of a few hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know. But you say that no one came out ahead of me. Who was it that
+      guarded this&mdash;this Spot of Life? The Rhamdas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They and the Bars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! And who are the Bars?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The military priesthood. They are the Mahovisal, and of the Temple of the
+      Bell. They are led by the great Bar Senestro.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there were times when these Bars, led by this Senestro, held guard
+      over the Spot of Life?&rdquo; To this Geos nodded; and Watson went on: &ldquo;And who
+      is this great Senestro?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is the chief of the Bars, and a prince of D'Hartia. He is the
+      affianced of the two queens, the Aradna and the Nervina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The TWO of them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon Watson learned something rather peculiar. It seemed that the
+      princes of D'Hartia had always married the queens. This Senestro had had a
+      brother, but he died. And in such an event it was the iron custom that the
+      surviving brother marry both queens. It had happened only once before in
+      all history; but the precedent was unbreakable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, there is nothing against it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing; except, perhaps the prophecy of the Jarados. We now know&mdash;the
+      whole world knows&mdash;that we are fast approaching the Day of Life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course; the Day of Life.&rdquo; Watson decided upon another chance shot. &ldquo;It
+      has to do with the marriage of the two queens!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You DO know!&rdquo; cried the Rhamda joyously. &ldquo;Tell me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it is I who am asking the questions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson's mind was working like lightning. Whether it was the influence of
+      the strange drink, or the equally strange influence of ordinary
+      inspiration, he was never more self-assured in his life. It seemed a day
+      for taking long chances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he inquired, &ldquo;what has the Day of Life to do with the two
+      queens and their betrothal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda throttled his eagerness. &ldquo;It is one of the obscure points of
+      the prophecy. There are some scholars who hold that such a problem as this
+      presages the coming of the end and the advent of the chosen. But others
+      oppose this interpretation, for reasons purely material: for if the Bar
+      Senestro should marry both queens it would make him the sole ruler of the
+      Thomahlia. Only once before have we had a single ruler; for centuries upon
+      centuries we have had two queens; one of the D'Hartians, and the other of
+      the Kospians, enthroned here in the Mahovisal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson would have liked to learn far more. But the time seemed one for
+      action on his part; bold action, and positive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rhamda Geos&mdash;I do not know what is your version of the prophecy. But
+      you are positive that no one preceded me out of the Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am. Why do you persist?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&rdquo;&mdash;speaking slowly and with the greatest care&mdash;&ldquo;because
+      there was one greater than I, who came before me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda rose excitedly to his feet, and then sank back into his chair
+      again. In his eyes was nothing save eagerness, wonder and respect. He
+      leaned forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was it? Who was he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson's voice was steady as stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The great Jarados himself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXIII. &mdash; A LONG WAY FROM SHORE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Once more Watson had taken the kind of chance he preferred&mdash;a slender
+      one. He took the chance that these people, however occult and advanced
+      they might be, were still human enough to build their prophecy out of an
+      old foundation. If he were right, then the person of the Jarados would be
+      inviolable. If the professor were prisoner, held somewhere in secret, and
+      it got noised about that he was the true prophet returned&mdash;it would
+      not only give Holcomb immense prestige, but at the same time render the
+      position of his captors untenable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick needed no great discernment to see that he had touched a vital spot.
+      The philosophy of the Rhamdas was firmly bound up with spiritism; they had
+      gone far in science, and had passed out of mere belief into the deeper,
+      finer understanding that went behind the shadow for proof. Certainly
+      Watson inwardly rejoiced to see Rhamda Geos incredulous, his keen face
+      whitening like that of one who has just heard sacrilege uttered&mdash;to
+      see Geos rise in his place, grip the table tightly, and hear him exclaim:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Jarados! Did you say&mdash;the Jarados? He has come amongst us, and
+      we have not known? You are perfectly sure of this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am,&rdquo; stated Watson, and met the other's keen scrutiny without
+      flinching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Would the game work? At least it promised action; and now that he had the
+      old feeling of himself he was anxious to get under way. Any feeling of
+      fear was gone now. He calmly nodded his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is so. But sit down. I have still a bit more to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda resumed his seat. Clearly, his reverence had been greatly
+      augmented in the past few seconds. From that time on there was a marked
+      difference in his manner; and his speech, when he addressed Chick,
+      contained the expression &ldquo;my lord&rdquo;&mdash;an expression that Watson found
+      it easy enough to become accustomed to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you doubt, Rhamda Geos, that I came from the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We did not doubt. We were certain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see. You were not expecting the Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet, my lord. The coming of the Jarados shall be close to the Day of
+      the Judgment. But it could not be so soon; there were to be signs and
+      portents. We were to solve the problem first; we were to know the reason
+      of the shadow and the why of the spirit. The wisdom of the Rhamda Avec
+      told that the day approaches; he had opened the Spot of Life and gone
+      through it; but he had NOT sent the fact and the substance.&rdquo; Watson
+      smiled. There was just enough superstition, it seemed, beneath all the
+      Rhamda's wisdom to make him tractable. However, Chick asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me: as a learned man, as a Rhamda, do you believe in the prophecy
+      implicitly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord. I am a spiritist; and if spiritism is truth, then the
+      Jarados was genuine, and his prophecy is true. After all, my lord, it is
+      not a case of legend, but of history. The Jarados came at a time of high
+      civilisation, when men would see and understand him; he gave us his
+      teaching in records, and imposed his laws upon the Thomahlia. Then he
+      departed&mdash;through the Spot of Life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the Rhamda Geos went on to say that the teachings of the Jarados had
+      been moral as well as intellectual. Moreover, after he had formulated his
+      laws, he wrote out his judgment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An exhortation, my lord, that we were to give proof of our appreciation
+      of intelligence. We were to use it, and to prove ourselves worthy of it by
+      lifting ourselves up to the level of the Spot of Life. In other words, the
+      spot would be opened when, and only when, we had learned the secrets of
+      the occult, and&mdash;had opened the Spot ourselves!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson thought he understood partly. He asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is why you doubt me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You, my lord? Not so! You were found in the Temple of the Bell and Leaf;
+      not on the Spot itself, to be sure, but on the floor of the temple. You
+      were, both in your person and in your dress, of another world; you had
+      been promised by the Rhamda Avec; and, in a sense, you were a part of the
+      prophecy. We accepted you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I speak your language. Account for that, Geos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It need not be accounted for, my lord. We accept it as fact. The affinity
+      of spirit would not be bound by the limitation of artificial speech. That
+      you should talk the Thomahlia language is no more strange than that Rhamda
+      Avec, when he passed into your world, should speak your tongue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We call our language English,&rdquo; supplied Watson. &ldquo;It is the tongue of the
+      Jarados and of myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me of the Jarados, my lord!&rdquo; with renewed eagerness. &ldquo;In the other
+      world&mdash;what is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Chick's opportunity. By telling the simple truth about Dr. Holcomb
+      he would enhance himself in the eyes of Rhamda Geas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the other world&mdash;we call it America&mdash;the Jaradas is a Rhamda
+      much like yourself, the head and chief of many Rhamdas sitting in a great
+      institution devoted to intelligence. It is called the University of
+      California.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this California; what is it, my lord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A name,&rdquo; returned Chick. &ldquo;Immediately on the other side of the Spot is a
+      region called California.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The promised land, my lord!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The promised land indeed. There are some who call it paradise, even
+      there.&rdquo; And for good measure he proceeded to tell much of his own land, of
+      the woods, the rivers, the cities, animals, mountains, the sky, the moon,
+      and the sun. When he came to the sun he explained that no man dared to
+      look at it continuously with the bare eyes. Its great heat and splendour
+      astounded Geos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Concerning himself he nonchalantly stated that he was the fiance of
+      Holcomb's daughter; that is, son-in-law-to-be of the prophet Jarados; that
+      he was sort of Junior Rhamda. He declared that he had come from the occult
+      Rhamdas, through the other side of the Spot, in search of the Jarados who
+      had gone before. As to his blankness up to now, and his perplexity&mdash;he
+      was but a Junior; and the Spot had naturally benumbed his senses. Even
+      now, he apologised, it was difficult to know and to recall everything
+      clearly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Through it all the Rhamda Geos Listened in something like awe. He was
+      hearing of wonders never before guessed in the Thomahlia. As the
+      prospective son-in-law of the Jarados, Watson automatically lifted himself
+      to a supreme height, so great that, could he only hold himself up to it,
+      he would have a prestige second only to that of the prophet himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All of a sudden he thought of a question. It gripped him with dread, the
+      dread of the unknown. The question was one of TIME. &ldquo;How long have I been
+      here, Rhamda Geos?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Over eleven months, by our system of reckoning. You were found on the
+      floor of the temple three hundred and fifty-seven days ago; you were in a
+      lifeless condition; you must have been there some hours, my lord, before
+      we discovered you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eleven months!&rdquo; It had seemed but that many minutes. &ldquo;And I was
+      unconscious&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the time, my lord. Had we caught you immediately upon your coming, we
+      could have brought you around within three days, but in the circumstances
+      it was impossible to restore you before we did. You have been under the
+      care of the greatest specialists in all Thomahlia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Geos himself had been one of these. &ldquo;The council of Rhamdas went into
+      special session, my lord, immediately after your materialisation, and has
+      been sitting almost continually since. And now that you are revived, they
+      are waiting in person for you to show yourself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They accept you. They do not know who you are, my lord; none of us has
+      guessed even a part of the truth. The entire council awaits!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Chick wanted more. Besides, he looked at his clothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would have my own garments, Geos; also, whatever else was found on my
+      person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For Watson was thinking of a small but powerful pistol, an automatic, that
+      he had carried on the night when he fell through the Blind Spot. This
+      question of materiality was still a puzzle; if he himself had survived
+      there was a chance that the firearm had done the same. It might and it
+      might not preclude the occult. Anyway, he treasured the thought of that
+      automatic; with it in his possession he would not be bare-handed in case
+      of emergency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They returned to the room in which Chick had awakened. The Rhamda left
+      him. A few moments later he came back with a squad of men. Chick noted
+      their discipline, movement, and uniforms, and classed them as soldiers.
+      Two men were stationed outside the door&mdash;one, a stout, dark
+      individual in a blue uniform; and the other a lithe, athletic chap, blond
+      and blue-eyed, wearing a bright crimson dress. Chick instinctively
+      preferred both man and garb in crimson; there was a touch of honour, of
+      lightness and strength that just suited him. The other was dark, heavy and
+      sinister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both wore sandals, and upon their heads curious shakos, made of the finest
+      down, not fur. Both displayed a heavy silken braid looped from one
+      shoulder. Each carried a spear-like weapon, of some shining black
+      material, straight-tapered to a needle-point; but no other arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson pointed to the two uniforms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the significance, Geos?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One is from the queen, my lord; the other from Bar Senestro. The blue is
+      the cloth of the Bars; the red, that of the queens. The Bar and the queen
+      send this bodyguard with their respective compliments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick took the bundle that Geos had brought, and proceeded to don his own
+      clothes, finding deep satisfaction in the fact that they had arrived as
+      intact as he. He felt carefully in his hip pocket; the automatic was still
+      there, likewise the extra magazine of cartridges that he had carried about
+      with him on that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his other pockets he found two packets of cigarettes, a pouch of
+      tobacco, some papers, a few coins, a little money and two photographs, one
+      of Bertha and the other of her father. Not a thing had been disturbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He announced himself ready.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda conducted him down the corridor, which he found to be lined
+      with guards; red on one side, blue on the other. These men fell in behind
+      in two parallel files, one of the one colour and one of the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a building of great size. The corridors were long and high, all
+      with the wide-coved ceiling, and of colours that melted from one shade to
+      another as they turned, not corners, but curves. Apparently each colour
+      had its own suggestive reason. Such rooms as Chick could look into were
+      uniformly large, beautiful, and distinctly lighted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The guard moved in silent rhythm; the chief sound was that made by
+      Watson's leather-heeled shoes, drowning out, for once, the everlasting
+      tinkling undertone of those unseen fairy-bells; that running cadence,
+      never ceasing, silver, liquid, like the soul of sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though Watson walked with head erect, he had eyes for every little thing
+      he passed. He noted the material of the structure and tried to name it;
+      neither plaster nor stone, the walls were highly polished and, somehow or
+      other, capable of emitting perfume&mdash;light and wholesome, not heavy
+      and oppressive. And in dark passages the walls glowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The corridor widened, and with a graceful curve opened upon a wide
+      stairway that descended, or rather sank&mdash;to use Watson's own words
+      for the feeling&mdash;into the depths of the building. To the right of one
+      landing was a large window reaching to the floor; its panes were clear and
+      not frosted as had been the others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick got his first glimpse here of what lay outside&mdash;an iridescent
+      landscape, at first view astonishingly like an ocean of opals; for it was
+      of many hues, red and purple and milky white, splashed violantin blue and
+      fluorescence&mdash;a maze and shimmer of dancing, joyful colours, whirring
+      in an uncertainty of polychromatic harmony. Such was his first fleeting
+      impression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the next landing he looked closer. It was not unlike a monster bowl of
+      bubbles; the same illusion of movement, the same delicacy and witchery of
+      colour, only here the sensation was not that of decomposition but of life;
+      of flowers, delicate as the rainbow, tenuous, sinuous, breathing&mdash;weaving
+      in a serpentine maze of daedalian hues; long tendrils of orchidian beauty,
+      lifting, weaving, drooping&mdash;a vast sea of equatorial bloom; but&mdash;no
+      trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is our landscape,&rdquo; spoke the Rhamda. &ldquo;According to the Jarados, it
+      is not like that of the next world&mdash;your world, my lord. After you
+      meet the Rhamdas, I shall take you into the Mahovisal for a closer view of
+      it all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They reached the bottom of the stairway. Chick noted the architecture in
+      the entrance-way at this point; the seeming solidness of structure, as if
+      the whole had been chiselled, not built. The vestibule was really a hall,
+      domed and high, large enough to shelter a hundred. Like the corridor
+      outside Chick's room, it was lined with a row each of red and blue
+      uniformed guards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Invariably the one belonged to the blond, lithe, quick-feeling type, the
+      others heavy, sturdy, formidable. The extremities of the two lines
+      converged on an oval-topped doorway, very large, having above it a design
+      conventionalised from the three-leafed clover. One leaf was scarlet, one
+      blue, the other green.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door opened. The guards halted. Geos stepped aside with a bow, and
+      Watson strode forward into the presence of the Council of the Rhamdas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXIV. &mdash; THE BAR SENESTRO
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was a critical moment for Chick. Out of the impulse of his inner nature
+      he had chosen the odds that he must now uphold against the combined wisdom
+      of these intellectuals. He was alone, with no one to guide him save Geos,
+      who undoubtedly was his friend, but who as undoubtedly would desert him
+      upon the slightest inkling of imposture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found himself in a great, round room, or rather an oval one, domed at
+      the top but tinted in a far more beautiful colouring&mdash;lazuli blue.
+      The walls were cut by long, narrow windows reaching far up into the sweep
+      where the side melted into the ceiling. The material of the windows was of
+      the same translucent substance already noted, but slightly tinged with
+      green, so that they shed a soft light, cooled and quiet, over the whole
+      assembly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the wall opposite the doorway was a large replica of the clover-leaf
+      design outside, even more gem-like in brilliance; its three colours woven
+      into a trinity almost of flame. Whether the light was artificial or
+      intrinsic, Chick could not say. The floor of the place accommodated some
+      three hundred tables, of the library type, and the same number of men
+      bearing the distinguished stamp of the Rhamda. All were smooth-shaven,
+      comparatively tall, and possessing the same aesthetic manner which
+      impressed one with the notion of inherited, inherent culture. The entire
+      hall had the atmosphere of learning, justice and the supreme tribunal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment Watson felt weak and uncertain. He could hold up against Geos
+      and Avec, but in the face of such an array he wasn't so sure. There was
+      but one thing to encourage him; the faces into which he looked. All were
+      full of wonder and reverence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he looked about him more carefully. He had come out upon a wide
+      platform, or rostrum. He now noticed that he was flanked on either side by
+      thrones&mdash;two of them; they seemed made of golden amber. The one on
+      the right was occupied by a man, the other by a woman. In the pause that
+      was vouchsafed him Chick took note of these two, and wondered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the first place, the man was not a Rhamda. The jewelled semi-armour
+      that he wore was more significant than the dignified garb of the
+      Intellectuals; at the same time, his accoutrements cheapened him, by
+      contrast. He was executive, princely, with the bearing that comes of
+      worldly ambitions and attainments; a man strangely handsome, vital,
+      athletic; curling hair, dark, quick eyes and even features; except only
+      for the mouth he might have been taken as a model of the Greek Alexander.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The clothes he wore were classic, as was everything else about him, even
+      to his sandals, his bare arms and his jewelled breastplate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson had studied history. He had a quick impression of a composite&mdash;of
+      genius, cruelty and sensuality. Here was one with three strong natures, a
+      sort of Nero, Caligula and Alexander combined: the sensuality of the
+      first, the cruelty of the second, and the instinctive fire and greatness
+      of the immortal Macedonian. The man was smiling; not an amused smile, but
+      one of interest, humorous tolerance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When their eyes met, Chick caught the magnetic current of personality, the
+      same sense of illusiveness that he and Harry Wendel had noted in the
+      Nervina; only here it was negative, resisting instead of aiding. A number
+      of the blue guard surrounded the throne, their faces dark, strong, and of
+      unconquerable resolution, though slow to think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the other throne was a girl. Chick had heard enough from the Geos to
+      guess her identity: one of the queens, the Aradna; frail, delicate, a
+      blue-eyed maiden, with a waving mass of straw-gold hair hanging loosely
+      about her shoulders. She too was classically attired, although there were
+      touches of modernity here and there in the arrangement of ribbons; the
+      garment matched her guards' crimson, and was draped about her shoulders so
+      as to leave one bare, together with that arm. Across her forehead was a
+      band of dark-blue gems, and she wore no other jewels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was not more than seventeen or eighteen, with eyes like bluebells,
+      lips as red as poppies, features that danced with delight and laughter and
+      all the innocence that one would associate with elfin royalty.
+      Instinctively Chick compared her with the Nervina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The senior queen had the subtle magnetism, the uncountable fascination,
+      the poise and decision that held and dictated all things to her fancy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not so the Aradna. Hers was the strength of simplicity, the frank, open
+      delight of the maiden, and at the same time all the charm and suggestion
+      of coming womanhood. When she caught Watson's eye she smiled; a smile free
+      and unrestrained, out of an open, happy heart. She made a remark to one of
+      her guards, who nodded a reply after the manner of a friend, rather than a
+      courtier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson turned to the Geos, who stood somewhat to one side, and a little to
+      the rear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Aradna?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. The queen of D'Hartia. The man on the other side is the Bar
+      Senestro.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever feeling Chick entertained for the one was offset by what he felt
+      for the other. He was between two forces; his instinct warned him of the
+      Bar, sceptical, powerful, ruthless, a man to be reckoned with; but his
+      better nature went out to the young queen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a motion from Geos, the whole assembly of Rhamdas stood up. The action
+      was both dignified and reverent. Though Chick was, in their eyes, a
+      miracle, there was no unseemly staring nor jarring of curiosity; all was
+      quietness, ease, poise; the only sound was that of the constant subtle
+      music of those invisible bells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rhamda Geos began speaking. At the same time he placed a friendly hand on
+      Watson's shoulder, a signal for every other Rhamda to resume his seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Fact and the Substance, my brothers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Geos paused as he made use of the ultra-significant phrase. And then, in a
+      few rapid sentences, he ran over the synopsis of that affair, beginning
+      with some philosophy and other details that Watson could only half
+      understand, making frequent allusions to the Jarados and other writers of
+      prophecy; then he made some mention of his own particular brand of
+      spiritism and its stand on materialisation. This he followed with an
+      account of the finding of Watson in the temple, his long sleep and
+      ultimate reviving. At greater length he repeated the gist of their
+      conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not until then was there a stir among the Rhamdas. Chick glanced over at
+      the Aradna. She was listening eagerly, her chin cupped in her hand, her
+      blue eyes full of interest and wonder, and natural, unfeigned, child-like
+      delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the Bar caught Chick's glance; the newcomer felt the cold chill of
+      calculation, the cynical weight of the sceptic, and a queer foreboding of
+      the future; no light glance, but one like fire and ice and iron. He
+      wondered at the man's beauty and genius, and at his emotional
+      preponderance manifest even here before the Rhamdas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos went on. His words, now, were simple and direct. Watson felt
+      himself almost deified by that reverent manner. The Rhamdas listened with
+      visibly growing interest; the Aradna leaned slightly forward; even the Bar
+      dropped his interest in Watson to pay closer attention to the speaker. For
+      Geos had come to the Jarados; he was an orator as well as a mystic, and he
+      was advancing Chick's words with all the skill of a master of language,
+      ascending effect&mdash;climax&mdash;the Jarados had come among them, and&mdash;They
+      had missed him!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment there was silence, then a rustle of general comment. Chick
+      watched the Rhamdas, leaning over to whisper to each other. Could he stand
+      up against them?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But none of them spoke. After the first murmur of comment they lapsed into
+      silence again. It was the Bar Senestro who broke the tension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I ask, Rhamda Geos, why you make such an assertion? What proof have
+      you, to begin with, that this man,&rdquo; indicating Watson with a nod, &ldquo;is not
+      merely one of ourselves: a D'Hartian or a Kospian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos replied instantly: &ldquo;You know the manner of his discovery, Bar
+      Senestro. Have you not eyes?&rdquo; Geos seemed to think he had said the last
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; rejoined the Bar good-humouredly. &ldquo;I have very good eyes, Rhamda
+      Geos. Likewise I have a mind to reason with; but my imagination, I fear,
+      is defective. What I behold is just such a creature as myself; not
+      otherwise. How hold you that this one is proof out of the occult?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are sceptical,&rdquo; returned the Rhamda, evenly. &ldquo;Even as you behold him,
+      you are full of doubt. But do you not recall the words of the great Avec?
+      Do you not know the Prophecy of the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Truly, Geos; I remember them both. Especially the writing on the wall of
+      the temple. Does not the prophet himself say: 'And behold, in the last
+      days there shall come among ye&mdash;the false ones. Them ye shall slay'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All very true, Bar Senestro. But you well know&mdash;we all know&mdash;that
+      the true prophecy was to be fulfilled when the Spot was opened. Did not
+      the fulfilment begin when the Avec and the Nervina passed through to the
+      other side?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fulfilment, Geos? Perhaps it was the sign of the coming of impostors!
+      The end may not be until ALL the conditions are complied with!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But at this moment Aradna saw fit to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senestro, would you condemn this one without allowing him a word in his
+      own defence? Is it fair? Besides, he does not look like an impostor to me.
+      I like his face. Perhaps he is one of the chosen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the last word the Bar frowned. His glance shifted suddenly to Watson, a
+      swift look of ice-cold calculation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very, very true, O Aradna. I, too, would have him speak in his own
+      behalf. Let him amuse us with his tongue. What would your majesty care to
+      hear, O Aradna, from this phantom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words were of biting satire. Chick wheeled upon the Bar. Their eyes
+      clashed; an encounter not altogether to Watson's credit. He was a bit
+      unsteady, a trifle uncertain of his power. He had calculated on the
+      superstition of the Rhamdas to hold him up until he caught his footing,
+      and this unexpected scepticism was disconcerting. However, he was no
+      coward; the feeling passed away almost at once. He strode straight up to
+      the throne of the Bar; and once more he spoke from sheer impulse:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Aradna has spoken true, O Senestro, or sinister, or whatever you may
+      be called. I demand fair hearing! It is my due; for I have come from
+      another world. I follow&mdash;the Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      If Watson had supposed that he had taken the Bar's measure, he was
+      mistaken. The prince's eyes suddenly glinted with a fierce pleasure. Like
+      a flash his antagonism shifted to something astonishingly like admiration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well spoken! Incidentally, you are well made and sound looking,
+      stranger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Passably,&rdquo; replied Watson. &ldquo;I do not care to discuss my appearance,
+      however. I am certainly no more ill-favoured than some others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And impertinent,&rdquo; continued the other, quite without malice. &ldquo;Do you know
+      anything about the Bar, to whom you speak so saucily?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that you have intimated that I may be an impostor. You have done
+      this, after hearing what the learned Rhamda Geos has said. You know the
+      facts; you know that I have come from the Jarados. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But it wasn't Watson's words that held the Bar's attention. Chick's
+      straight, well-knit form, his quick-trained actions, overbalanced the
+      question of the prophet in the mind of the man on the throne. His delight
+      was self-evident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Truly you are soundly built, stranger; you are made of iron and whipcord,
+      finely formed, quick and alert.&rdquo; He threw a word to one of his heavy-faced
+      attendants, then suddenly stood up and descended from his throne. He came
+      up and stood beside Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick straightened. The prince was an inch the taller; his bare arms
+      long-muscled, lithe, powerful; under the pink skin Chick could see the
+      delicate, cat-like play of strength and vitality. He sensed the strength
+      of the man, his quick, eager, instinctive glance, his panther-like step
+      and certainty of graceful movement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stranger,&rdquo; spoke the Bar, &ldquo;indeed you ARE an athlete! What is your
+      nationality&mdash;Kospian?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither Kospian nor D'Hartian; I am an American. True, there are some who
+      have said that I am built like a man; I pride myself that I can conduct
+      myself like one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And speak impertinently.&rdquo; Still in the best of humour, the prince coolly
+      reached out and felt Watson's biceps. His eyes became still brighter. If
+      not an admirer of decorum, he could appreciate firm flesh. &ldquo;Sirra! You ARE
+      strong! Answer me&mdash;do you know anything about games of violence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Several. Anything you choose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the prince shook his head. &ldquo;Not so. I claim no unfair advantage; you
+      are well met, and opportune. Let it be a contest of your own choosing. The
+      greater honour to myself, the victor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the little queen saw fit to interfere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Senestro, is this the code of the Bar? Is not your proposal unseemly to
+      so great a guest? Restrain your eagerness for strength and for muscle! You
+      have preferred charges against this man; now you would hurl your body as
+      well. Remember, I am the queen; I can command it of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Senestro bowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your wishes are my law, O Aradna.&rdquo; Then, turning to Watson: &ldquo;I am
+      over-eager, stranger. You are the best-built man I have seen for many a
+      circle. But I shall best you.&rdquo; He paced to his throne and resumed his
+      seat. &ldquo;Let him tell us his tale. I repeat, Geos, that for all his beauty
+      this one is an impostor. When he has spoken I shall confute him. I ask
+      only that in the end he be turned over to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was plain that the Thomahlia was blest with odd rulers. If the Bar
+      Senestro was a priest, he was clearly still more of a soldier. The fiery
+      challenge of the man struck an answering chord in Watson; he knew the time
+      must come when he should weigh himself up against this Alexander, and it
+      was anything but displeasing to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What must I say and do?&rdquo; he asked the Rhamda Geos. &ldquo;What do they want me
+      to tell them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just what you have told me: tell them of the Nervina, and of the Rhamda
+      Avec. The prince is a man of the world, but from the Rhamdas you will have
+      justice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals. They seemed accustomed to the
+      outbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting complacently. In a few
+      words Watson described the Nervina and Avec; their appearance, manners&mdash;everything.
+      Fortunately he did not have to dissemble. When he had finished there was a
+      faint murmur of approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is proven,&rdquo; declared the girl queen. &ldquo;It is truly my cousin, the
+      Nervina. I knew not the Rhamda, but from your faces it must have been he,
+      Senestro, what say you to this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Bar was totally unconvinced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All this is childish. Did I not say he is of our world&mdash;D'Hartian or
+      Kospian, or some other? Does not all Thomahlia know of the Nervina? Few
+      have seen the Rhamda Avec, but what of it? Some have. What this stranger
+      says proves nothing at all. I say, give him a test.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The test?&rdquo; from Geos, in a hushed tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just that. There is none who knows the likeness of the Jarados; none but
+      the absent Avec. None among us has ever seen his image. It is a secret to
+      all save the High Rhamda. Yet, in cases like this, well may the Leaf be
+      opened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson, wondering what was meant, listened closely to the prince as he
+      continued: &ldquo;It is written that there are times when all may see. Surely
+      this is such a time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now let this stranger describe the Jarados. He says that he had seen him;
+      that he is the Prophet's prospective son-in-law. Good! Let him describe
+      the Jarados to us!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then open the Leaf! If he speaks true, we shall know him to be from the
+      Jarados. If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes of my own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of quick
+      decision. Watson knew that the moment had come to test his luck to the
+      uttermost. There was but one thing to do; he did it. He said to the Rhamda
+      Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am willing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Geos was distinctively relieved, &ldquo;It is good, my lord. Tell us in simple
+      words. Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just as you would
+      have us see him. Afterwards we shall open the Leaf.&rdquo; And in a lower tone:
+      &ldquo;If you speak accurately I shall be vindicated, my lord. I doubt not that
+      you are a better man than the prince; but place your reliance in the
+      Truth; it will be one more proof of the occult, and of the Day
+      approaching.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Which is all that Watson told. But first he breathed a prayer to One who
+      is above all things occult or physical. He did not understand where he was
+      nor how he had got there; he only knew that his fate was hanging on a toss
+      of chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes and
+      speaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he recalled of the
+      old professor. He tried to describe him just as he had appeared that day
+      in the ethics class, when he made the great announcement; the trim, stubby
+      figure of Professor Holcomb, the pink, healthy skin, the wise, grey,
+      kindly eyes, and the close-cropped, pure white beard: all, just as Chick
+      had known him. One chance in millions; he took it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise, BEARDED
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was not a breath or a murmur in comment. All hung upon his words;
+      there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking, only the throb of
+      his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution in his veins. He had
+      spoken. If only there might be a resemblance!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos stepped forward a pace. &ldquo;It is well said. If the truth has been
+      spoken, there shall be room for no dispute. It shall be known throughout
+      all Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has spoken. Let the Leaf be
+      opened!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick never knew just what happened, much less how it was accomplished. He
+      knew only that a black, opaque wave ran up the long windows, shutting off
+      the light, so that instantly the darkness of night enveloped everything,
+      blotting out all that maze of colour; it was the blackness of the void.
+      Then came a tiny light, a mere dot of flame, over on the opposite wall; a
+      pin-point of light it was, seemingly coming out of a vast distance like an
+      approaching star, growing gradually larger, spreading out into a screen of
+      radiance that presently was flashing with intrinsic life. The corruscation
+      grew brighter; little tufts of brilliance shot out with all the stabbing
+      suddenness of shooting stars. To Chick it was exactly as though some god
+      were pushing his way through and out of fire. In the end the flame burst
+      asunder, diminished into a receding circle and sputtered out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in the place of the strange light there appeared the illuminated
+      figure of a man. Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his eyes and looked again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the bust of Professor Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXV. &mdash; THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage&mdash;Rhamdas, guards, the occupants
+      of the two thrones&mdash;he himself was the most astounded. Was the great
+      professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not, how explain this
+      miracle? But if he were, how to explain the duality, the identity? Surely,
+      it could not be sheer chance!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately for Chick, it was dark. All eyes were fixed on the trim figure
+      which occupied the space of the clover-leaf on the rear wall. Except for
+      Chick's strangled gasp, there was only the hushed silence of reverence,
+      deep and impressive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then another dot appeared. From its position, Watson took it to come from
+      another leaf of the clover; another light approaching out of the void and
+      cutting through the blackness exactly as the first had come. It grew and
+      spread until it had filled the whole leaf; then, again the bursting of the
+      flare, the diminishing of the light, and its disappearance in a thin rim
+      at the edge. And this time there was revealed&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A handsome brown-haired DOG.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson of course, could not understand. The silence held; he could feel
+      the Rhamda Geos at his side, and hear him murmur something which, in
+      itself, was quite unintelligible:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The four-footed one! The call to humility, sacrifice, and unselfishness!
+      The four-footed one!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all. It was a shaggy shepherd dog, with a pointed nose and one
+      ear cocked up and the other down, very wisely inquisitive. Chick had seen
+      similar dogs many times, but he could not account for this one; certainly
+      not in such a place. What had it to do with the Jarados?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the darkness. It gave him a chance to think. He wondered, rapidly,
+      how he could link up such a creature with his description of the Jarados.
+      What could be the purpose of a canine in occult philosophy? Or, was the
+      whole thing, after all, mere blundering chance?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This is what bothered Chick. He did not know how to adjust himself; life,
+      place, sequence, were all out of order. Until he could gather exact data,
+      he must trust to intuition as before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two pictures vanished simultaneously. Down came the black waves from
+      the windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was once more flooded
+      with that mellow radiance. The Rhamda Geos stepped forward as a murmur of
+      awed approval arose from the assembly. There was no applause. One does not
+      applaud the miraculous. The Geos took his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is proven!&rdquo; he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: &ldquo;Is there any question,
+      my brothers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had triumphed over
+      all else. The men of learning turned none but reverent faces toward
+      Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph he was
+      apprehensive of the princes's keen genius. An agnostic is seldom converted
+      by what could be explained away as mere coincidence. Moreover, as it
+      ultimately appeared, the Bar now had more than one reason for antagonising
+      the man who claimed to be the professor's prospective son-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any question?&rdquo; repeated Rhamda Geos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was standing
+      before her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin revealed the
+      tender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close scrutiny, and then
+      addressed the Geos:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to put one question, Rhamda. The stranger seems to be a goodly
+      young man. He has come from the Jarados. Tell me, is he truly of the
+      chosen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted the
+      answer. The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The chosen, O Aradna? The chosen? Do not allow yourself to be tricked by
+      a little thing! I myself have been chosen by the inherited law of the
+      Thomahlia!&rdquo; Then to Chick: &ldquo;I see, Sir Phantom, that our futures are to be
+      intertwined with interest!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No? Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I shall
+      teach you the value of materiality. You are well made and handsome,
+      likewise courageous. May the time soon come when you can put your mettle
+      to the test in a fair conflict!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is your own saying, O Senestro!&rdquo; warned Geos. &ldquo;You must abide by my
+      Lord's reply.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True; and I shall abide. I know nothing of black magic, or any other. But
+      I care not. I know only that I cannot accept this stranger as a spirit. I
+      have felt his muscles, and I know his strength; they are a man's, and a
+      Thomahlian's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you do not abide?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do. That is, I do not claim him. He has won his freedom. But as
+      for endorsing him&mdash;no, not until he has given further proof. Let him
+      come to the Spot of Life. Let him take the ordeal. Let him qualify on the
+      Day of the Prophet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord, do you accept?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson had no idea what the &ldquo;ordeal&rdquo; might be, nor what might be the
+      significance of the day. But he could not very well refuse. He spoke as
+      lightly as he could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. I accept anything.&rdquo; Then, addressing the prince: &ldquo;One word, O
+      Senestro.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak up, Sir Phantom!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bar Senestro&mdash;what have you done with the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      An instant's stunned silence greeted this stab. It was broken by the
+      prince.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Jarados!&rdquo; His voice was unruffled. &ldquo;What know I of the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care! You have seen him&mdash;you know his power!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a courageous sort of impertinence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have determination and knowledge! Bar Senestro, I have come for the
+      Jarados!&rdquo; Chick paused for effect. &ldquo;Now what think you? Am I of the
+      chosen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had meant it as a deliberate taunt, and so it was taken. The Bar shot
+      to his feet. Not that he was angered; his straight, handsome form was
+      kingly, and for all his impulsiveness there was a certain real majesty
+      about his every pose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are of the chosen. It is well; you have given spice to the taunt! I
+      would not have it otherwise. Forget not your courage on the Day of the
+      Prophet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneath his
+      throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to the assembly&mdash;and
+      was gone. The blue guard followed in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rest of the ordeal was soon done. Nothing more was said about the
+      Jarados, nor of what the Bar Senestro had brought up. There were a few
+      questions about the world he had quit, questions which put no strain upon
+      his imagination to answer. He was out of the deep water for the present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the assembly dissolved Chick was conducted back to the apartments
+      upstairs. Not to his old room, however, but to an adjoining suite, a
+      magnificent place&mdash;that would have done honour to a prince. But Chick
+      scarcely noted the beauty of the place. His attention flew at once to
+      something for which he longed&mdash;an immense globe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick spun it around eagerly upon its axis. The first thing that he looked
+      for was San Francisco&mdash;or, rather, North America. If he was on the
+      earth he wanted to know it! Surely the oceans and continents would not
+      change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he was doomed to disappointment. There was not a familiar detail.
+      Outside of a network of curved lines indicating latitude and longitude,
+      and the accustomed tilt of the polar axis, the globe was totally strange!
+      So strange that Chick could not decide which was water and which land.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a bit of puzzling Chick ran across a yellow patch marked with some
+      strange characters which, upon examination, were translated in some
+      unknown manner within his subconscious mind, to &ldquo;D'Hartia.&rdquo; Another was
+      lettered &ldquo;Kospia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Assuming that these were land&mdash;and there were a few other, smaller
+      ones, of the same shade&mdash;then the land area covered approximately
+      three-fifths of the globe. Inferentially the green remainder, or
+      two-fifths, was the water or ocean covered area. Such a proportion was
+      nearly the precise reverse of that obtaining on the earth. Chick puzzled
+      over other strange names&mdash;H'Alara, Mal Somnal, Bloudou San, and the
+      like. Not one name or outline that he could place!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How could he make his discovery fit with the words of Dr. Holcomb, and
+      with what philosophy he knew? Somehow there was too much life, too much
+      reality, to fit in with any spiritistic hypothesis. He was surrounded by
+      real matter, atomic, molecular, cellular. He was certain that if he were
+      put to it he could prove right here every law from those put forth by
+      Newton to the present.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was still the material universe; that was certain. Therefor it was
+      equally certain that the doctor had made a most prodigious discovery. But&mdash;what
+      was it? What was the law that had fallen out of the Blind Spot?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He gave it up, and stepped to one of the suite's numerous windows. They
+      were all provided with clear glass. Now was his opportunity for an
+      uninterrupted, leisurely survey of the world about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As before, he noted the maze of splendid, dazzling opalescence, all the
+      colours of the spectrum blending, weaving, vibrant, like a vast plain of
+      smooth, Gargantuan jewels. Then he made out innumerable round domes,
+      spread out in rows and in curves, without seeming order or system;
+      BUILDINGS, every roof a perfect gleaming dome, its surface fairly alive
+      with the reflected light of that amazing sun. Of such was the landscape
+      made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As before, he could hear the incessant undertone of vague music, of
+      rhythmical, shimmering and whispering sound. And the whole air was laden
+      with the hint of sweet scents; tinged with the perfume of attar and myrrh&mdash;of
+      a most delicate ambrosia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment he stood still, the air bathing his face, the unknown
+      fragrance filling his nostrils. The whole world seemed thrumming with that
+      hitherto faint quiver of sound. Now it was resonant and strong, though
+      still only an undertone. He looked below him; as he did so, something
+      dropped from the side of the window opening&mdash;a long, delicate
+      tendril, sinuous and alive. It touched his face, and then&mdash;It
+      drooped, drooped like a wounded thing. He reached out his hand and plucked
+      it, wondering. And he found, at its tip, a floating crimson blossom as
+      delicate as the frailest cobweb, so inconceivably delicate that it wilted
+      and crumbled at the slightest touch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick thrust his head out of the window. The whole building, from ground
+      to dome, was covered&mdash;waving, moving, tenuous, a maze of colour&mdash;with
+      orchids!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had never dreamed of anything so beautiful, or so splendid. Everywhere
+      these orchids; to give them the name nearest to the unknown one. As far as
+      he could see, living beauty!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he noticed something stranger still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the petals and the foliage about him, little clouds of colour wafted
+      up, like mists of perfume, forever rising and intermittently settling. It
+      was mysteriously harmonious, continuous&mdash;like life itself. Chick
+      looked closer, and listened. And then he knew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These mists were clouds of tiny, multi-coloured insects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked down farther, into the streets. They were teeming with life,
+      with motion. He was in a city whose size made it a true metropolis. All
+      the buildings were large, and, although of unfamiliar architecture,
+      undeniably of a refined, advanced art. Without exception, their roofs were
+      domed. Hence the effect of a sea of bubbles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Directly below, straight down from his window, was a very broad street.
+      From it at varying angles ran a number of intersecting avenues. The height
+      of his window was great&mdash;he looked very closely, and made out two
+      lines of colour lining and outlining the street surrounding the
+      apartments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the one side the line was blue, on the other crimson; they were guards.
+      And where the various avenues intersected cables must have been stretched;
+      for these streets were packed and jammed with a surging multitude, which
+      the guards seemed engaged in holding back. As far up the avenues as Chick
+      could see, the seething mass of fellow creatures extended, a gently
+      pulsing vari-coloured potential commotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he looked one of the packed streets broke into confusion. He could see
+      the guards wheeling and running into formation; from behind, other
+      platoons rushed up reinforcements. The great crowd was rolling forward,
+      breaking on the edge of the spear-armed guards like the surf of a rolling
+      sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick had a sudden thought. Were they not looking up at his window? He
+      could glimpse arms uplifted and hands pointed. Even the guards, those held
+      in reserve, looked up. Then&mdash;such was the distance&mdash;the rumble
+      of the mob reached his ears; at the same time, spreading like a grass
+      fire, the commotion broke out in another street, to another and another,
+      until the air was filled with the new undertone of countless human
+      tongues.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick was fascinated. The thing was over-strange. While he looked and
+      listened the whole scene turned to conflict; the voice of the throng
+      became ominous. The guards still held the cables, still beat back the
+      populace. Could they hold out, wondered Chick idly; and what was it all
+      about?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something touched his shoulder. He wheeled. One of the tall, red-uniformed
+      guards was standing beside him. Watson instinctively drew back, and as he
+      did so the other stepped forward, touched the snap, and closed the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the idea? I was just getting interested!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The soldier nodded pleasantly, respectfully&mdash;reverently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Orders from below, my lord. Were you to remain at that window it would
+      take all the guards in the Mahovisal to keep back the Thomahlians.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; Chick was astonished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are a million pilgrims in the city, my lord, who have waited months
+      for just one glimpse of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson considered. This was a new and a dazing aspect of the affair.
+      Evidently the expression on his face told the soldier that some
+      explanation would not be amiss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The pilgrims are almost innumerable, my lord. They are all of the one
+      great faith. They are, my lord, the true believers, the believers in the
+      Day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Day! Instantly Watson recalled Senestro's use of the expression. He
+      sensed a valuable clue. He caught and held the soldier's eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; commanded Chick. &ldquo;What is this Day of which you speak!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXVI. &mdash; AN ALLY, AND SOLID GROUND
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The soldier replied unhesitatingly: &ldquo;It is the Day of Life, my lord.
+      Others call it the 'first of the Sixteen Days.' Still others, simply the
+      Day of the Prophet, or Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When will it be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Soon. It is but two days hence. And with the going down of the sun on
+      that day the Fulfilment is to begin, and the Life is to come. Hence the
+      crowd below, my lord; yet they are nothing compared with the crowds that
+      today are pressing their way from all D'Hartia and Kospia towards the
+      Mahovisal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All because of the Day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And to see YOU, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All believers in the Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All truly; but they do not all believe in your lordship. There are many
+      sects, including the Bars, that consider you an imposter; but the rest&mdash;perhaps
+      the most&mdash;believe you the Herald of the Day. All want to see you, for
+      whatever motive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These Bars; who are they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The military priesthood, my lord. As priests they teach a literal
+      interpretation of the prophecy; as soldiers they maintain their own
+      aggrandisement. To be more specific, my lord, it is they who accuse you of
+      being one of the false ones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it is written in the prophecy, my lord, that we may expect
+      impostors, and that we are to slay them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then this coming contest with the Senestro&mdash;&rdquo; beginning to sense the
+      drift of things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord; it will be a physical contest, in which the best man
+      destroys the other!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guard was a tall, finely made and truly handsome chap of perhaps
+      thirty-five. Watson liked the clear blue of his eyes and the openness of
+      his manner. At the same time he felt that he was being weighed and
+      balanced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord is not afraid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all! I was just thinking&mdash;when does this kill take place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two days hence, my lord; on the first of the Sixteen Sacred Days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus Chick found a staunch friend. The soldier's name, he learned, was
+      &ldquo;the Jan Lucar.&rdquo; He was supreme in command of the royal guards; and Chick
+      soon came to feel that the man would as cheerfully lay down his life for
+      him, Watson, as for the queen herself. All told, Chick was able to store
+      away in his memory a few very important facts:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      First, that the Aradna did not like the Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Second, that the Jan Lucar hated the great Bar because of the prince's
+      ambition to wed the queen and her cousin, the Nervina; also because of his
+      selfish, autocratic ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next, that were the Nervina on hand she would thwart the Senestro; for she
+      was a very learned woman, as advanced as the Rhamda Avec himself. But that
+      she was a queen first and a scholar afterwards; her motive in going
+      through the Blind Spot was to take care of the political welfare of her
+      people, her purposes were as high as Rhamda Avec's, but partook of
+      statesmanship rather than spirituality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally, that the Rhamdas were perfectly willing for the coming contest to
+      take place, on the evening of the Day of the Prophet, in the Temple of the
+      Bell and Leaf.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jan Lucar,&rdquo; Watson felt prompted to say, &ldquo;you need have no fear as to the
+      outcome of the ordeal, whatever it may be. With your faith in me, I cannot
+      fail. For the present, I need books, papers, scientific data. Moreover, I
+      want to see the outside of this building.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The guardsman bowed. &ldquo;The data is possible, my lord, but as to leaving the
+      building&mdash;I must consult the queen and the Rhamda Geos first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I said MUST&rdquo; Watson dared to say. &ldquo;I must go out into your world, see
+      your cities, your lands, rivers, mountains, before I do aught else. I must
+      be sure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other bowed again. He was visibly impressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you ask, my lord, is full of danger. You must not be seen in the
+      streets&mdash;yet. Untold bloodshed would ensue inevitably. To half the
+      Thomahlians you are sacred, and to the other half an impostor. I repeat,
+      my lord, that I must see the Geos and the queen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another bow and the Jan disappeared, to return in a few moments with the
+      Geos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Jan has told me, my lord, that you would go out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If possible. I want to see your world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it can be arranged. Is your lordship ready to go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Presently.&rdquo; Watson laid a hand on the big globe he had already puzzled
+      over. &ldquo;This represents the Thomahlia?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long is your day, Geos?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty-four hours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, how many revolutions in one circuit of the sun, in one
+      year-circle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he uttered the question Chick held his breath. It had suddenly struck
+      him that he had touched an extremely definite point. The answer might
+      PLACE him!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean, my lord, how long is a circle in term of days?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three hundred and sixty-five and a fraction, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson was dumbfounded. Could there be, in all the universe, another world
+      with precisely the same revolution period? But he could not afford to show
+      his concern. He said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, have you a moon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; it has a cycle of about twenty-eight days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson drew a deep breath. Inconceivable though it appeared, he was still
+      on his own earth. For a moment he pondered, wondering if he had been
+      caught up in tangle of time-displacement. Could it be that, instead of
+      living in the present, he had somehow become entangled in the past or in
+      the future?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If so&mdash;and by now he was so accustomed to the unusual that he
+      considered this staggering possibility with equanimity&mdash;if the time
+      coefficient was at fault, then how to account for the picture of the
+      professor, in that leaf? Had they both been the victims of a ghastly
+      cosmic joke?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was but one way to find out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come! Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXVII. &mdash; LOOKING DOWN
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room, one
+      entire side of which was wide open to the outer air. It was filled by a
+      number of queer, shining objects. At first glance Chick took them to be
+      immense beetles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran up to one
+      of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun it
+      gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume,&rdquo; apologised the Geos, &ldquo;that you have much finer aircraft in
+      your world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aircraft! Watson was all eagerness. He saw that the June Bug was about ten
+      feet high, with a bunchy, buglike body. On closer scrutiny he could make
+      out the outlines of wings folded tight against the sides. As for the
+      material, it must have been metal, to use a term which does not explain
+      very much, after all. In every respect the machine was a duplicate of some
+      great insect, except that instead of legs it had well-braced rollers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does it operate?&rdquo; Watson wanted to know. &ldquo;That is, what power do you
+      use, and how do you apply it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan Lucar threw back a plate. Watson looked inside, and saw a mass of
+      fine spider-web threads, softer than the tips of rabbit's hair, all
+      radiating from a central grey object about the size of a pea. Chick
+      reached out to touch this thing with his finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled him
+      back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, my lord!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;But you must not touch it! You&mdash;even
+      you, would be annihilated!&rdquo; Then to the Lucar: &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a lever,
+      perhaps. Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull red.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you may touch it,&rdquo; said the Geos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Chick's desire had vanished. Instead he ventured a question:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All very interesting, but where is your machinery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda was slightly amused. He smiled a little. &ldquo;You must give us a
+      little credit, my lord. We must seem backward to you, but we have passed
+      beyond reliance upon simple machines. That little grey pellet is, of
+      course, our motive force; it is a highly refined mineral, which we mine in
+      vast quantity. It has been in use for centuries. As for the hair-like web,
+      that is our idea of a transmission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt. The other
+      continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as possible.
+      We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and instead tried to
+      duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the birds and insects. We
+      fly exactly as they do; our motive force is intrinsic. In some respects,
+      we have improved upon life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is still only a machine, Geos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure, my lord; only a machine. Anything without the life principle
+      must remain so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan Lucar pressed another catch, allowing another plate to lower and
+      thereby disclose a glazed door, which opened into a cosy apartment fitted
+      with wicker chairs, and large enough for four persons. There was some sort
+      of control gear, which the Jan Lucar explained was not connected directly
+      with the flying and steering members, but indirectly through the membranes
+      of the web-like system. It was uncannily similar to the nervous
+      connections of the cerebellum with the various parts of the anatomy of an
+      insect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does it travel very fast?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We think so, my lord. This is the private machine of the Rhamda Avec. It
+      is rather small, but the swiftest machine in the Thomahlia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered the compartment, Watson took his seat beside the Geos, while
+      the soldier sat forward next to the control elements. He laid his hands on
+      certain levers; next instant, the machine was gliding noiselessly over the
+      mosaic, on to a short incline and thence, with ever increasing speed,
+      toward and through the open side of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The slides had all been thrown back; the compartment was enclosed only in
+      glass. Watson could get a clear view, and he was amazed at the speed of
+      the craft. Before he could think they were out in mid-air and ascending
+      skyward. Travelling on a steep slant, there was no vibration, no
+      mechanical noise; scarcely the suggestion of movement, except for the
+      muffled swish of the air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Were it not for the receding city below him, Chick could have imagined
+      himself sitting in a house while a windstorm tore by. He felt no change in
+      temperature or any other ill effects; the cabin was fully enclosed, and
+      heated by some invisible means. In short, ideal flight: for instance, the
+      seats were swung on gimbals, so that no matter at what angle the craft
+      might fly, the passengers would maintain level positions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Below stretched the Mahovisal&mdash;a mighty city of domes and plazas,
+      and, widely scattered, a few minarets. At the southern end there was a
+      vast, square plaza, covering thousands of acres. Toward it, on two sides,
+      converged scores of streets; they stretched away from it like the ribs of
+      a giant fan. On the remaining two sides there was a tremendously large
+      building with a V-shaped front, opening on the square. The play of opal
+      light on its many-bubbled roof resembled the glimmer from a vast pearl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the air above the city an uncountable number of very small objects
+      darted hither and thither like sparkling fireflies. It was difficult to
+      realise that they, too, were aircraft.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the west lay an immense expanse of silver, melting smoothly into the
+      horizon. Watson took it to be the Thomahlian ocean. Then he looked up at
+      the sky directly above him, and breathed a quick exclamation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a single, small object, perfectly white, dropping out of the
+      amethyst. Tiny at first, amost instantly it assumed a proportion nearly
+      colossal&mdash;a great bird, white as the breast of the snowdrift,
+      swooping with the grace of the eagle and the speed of the wind. It was so
+      very large that it seemed, to Chick, that if all the other birds he had
+      ever known were gathered together into one they would still be as the
+      swallow. Down, down it came in a tremendous spiral, until it gracefully
+      alighted in a splash of molten colour on the bosom of the silver sea. For
+      a moment it was lost in a shower of water jewels&mdash;and then lay still,
+      a swan upon the ocean.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Geos?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Kospian Limited, my lord. One of our great airships&mdash;a fast one,
+      we consider it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must accommodate a good many people, Rhamda.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About nine thousand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say it comes from Kospia. How far away is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About six thousand miles. It is an eight-hour run, with one stop. Just
+      now the service is every fifteen minutes. They are coming, of course, for
+      the Day of the Prophet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson continued to watch the great airship, noting the swarm of smaller
+      craft that came out from the Mahovisal to greet it, until the Jan Lucar
+      suddenly altered the course. They stopped climbing, and struck out on a
+      horizontal level. It left the Mahovisal behind them, a shimmering spot of
+      fire beside the gleaming sea. They were travelling eastwards. The
+      landscape below was level and unvaried, of a greenish hue, and much like
+      that of Chick's own earth in the early spring-time&mdash;a vast expanse,
+      level and sometimes dotted with opalescent towns and cities. Ribbons of
+      silver cut through the plain at intervals, crookedly lazy and winding,
+      indicating a drainage from north to south or vice versa. Looking back to
+      the west, he could see the great, golden sun, poised as he had seen it
+      that morning, a huge amber plate on the rim of the world. It was sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Chick looked straight ahead. Far in the distance a great wall loomed
+      skyward to a terrific height. So vast was it and so remote, at first it
+      had escaped the eye altogether. An incredibly high range of mountains,
+      glowing with a faint rose blush under the touch of the setting sun.
+      Against the sky were many peaks, each of them tipped with curious and
+      sparkling diamond-like corruscations. As Chick continued to gaze the rose
+      began to purple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan Lucar put the craft to another upward climb. So high were they now
+      that the Thomahlia below was totally lost from view; it was but a maze of
+      lurking shadows. The sun was only a gash of amber&mdash;it was twilight
+      down on the ground. And Watson watched the black line of the Thomahlian
+      shadow climb the purple heights before him until only the highest crests
+      and the jewelled crags flashed in the sun's last rays. Then, one by one,
+      they flickered out; and all was darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still they ascended. Watson became uneasy, sitting there in the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are we going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the Carbon Regions, my lord. It is one of the sights of the
+      Thomahlia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On top of those mountains?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beyond, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon, to Chick's growing amazement, the Geos went on to state that
+      carbon of all sorts was extremely common throughout their world. The same
+      forces that had formed coal so generously upon the earth had thrown up,
+      almost as lavishly, huge quantities of pure diamond. The material was of
+      all colours, as diamonds run, and considered of small value; for every day
+      purposes they preferred substances of more sombre hues. They used it, it
+      seemed, to build houses with.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how do they cut it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very easily. The material which drives this craft&mdash;Ilodium&mdash;will
+      cut it like butter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Later, Watson understood. He watched as the craft continued to climb; the
+      Jan Lucar was steering without the aid of any outside lights whatever,
+      there being only a small light illuminating his instruments. Chick
+      presently turned his gaze outside again; whereupon he got another jolt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw a NEGATIVE sky!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first he thought his eyes the victims of an illusion; then he looked
+      closer. And he saw that it was true; instead of the familiar starry points
+      of light against a velvet background, the arrangement was just the
+      reverse. Every constellation was in its place, just as Chick remembered it
+      from the earth; but instead of stars there were jet-black spots upon a
+      faint, grey background.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole sky was one huge Milky Way, except for the black spots. And from
+      it all there shone just about as much total light as from the heavens he
+      had known.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of all he experienced, this was the most disturbing. It seemed totally
+      against all reason; for he knew the stars to be great incandescent globes
+      in space. How explain that they were here represented in reverse, their
+      brilliance scattered and diffused over the surrounding sky, leaving points
+      of blackness instead? Afterward he learned that the peculiar chemical
+      constituency of the atmosphere was solely responsible for the inversion of
+      the usual order of things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All of a sudden the Jan Lucar switched the craft to a level. He held up
+      one hand and pointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look, my lord, and the Rhamda! Look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both men rose from their seats, the better to stare past the soldier.
+      Straight ahead, where had been one of the corruscating peaks, a streak of
+      blue fire shot skyward, a column of light miles high, differing from the
+      beams of a searchlight in that the rays were WAVY, serpentine, instead of
+      straight. It was weirdly beautiful. Geos caught his breath; he leaned
+      forward and touched the Jan Lucar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait,&rdquo; he said in an awed tone. &ldquo;Wait a moment. It has never come before,
+      but we can expect it now.&rdquo; And even as he spoke, something wonderful
+      happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From the base of the column two other streaks, one red and the other
+      bright green, cut out through the blackness on either side. The three
+      streams started from the same point; they made a sort of trident, red,
+      green, and blue&mdash;twisting, alive&mdash;strangely impressive,
+      suggestive of grandeur and omnipotence&mdash;holy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the Rhamda spoke. &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were barely moving now. Watson watched and wondered. The three
+      streams of light ran up and up, as though they would pierce the heavens;
+      the eye could not follow their ends. All in utter silence, nothing but
+      those beams of glorified light, their reality a hint of power, of life and
+      wisdom&mdash;of the certainty of things. Plainly it had a tremendous
+      significance in the minds of the Geos and the Lucar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then came the climax. Slowly, but somehow inexorably, like the laws of
+      life itself, and somewhere at a prodigious height above the earth, the
+      three outer ends of the red and the green and the blue spread out and
+      flared back upon themselves and one another, until their combined
+      brilliance bridged a great rainbow across the sky. Blending into all the
+      colours of the prism, the bow became&mdash;for a moment&mdash;pregnant
+      with an overpowering beauty, symbolical, portentous of something
+      stupendous about to come out of the unknown to the Thomahlians. And next&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bow began to move, to swirl, and to change in shape and colour. The
+      three great rivers of light billowed and expanded and rounded into a new
+      form. Then they burst&mdash;into a vast, three-leafed clover&mdash;blue
+      and red and green!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Watson caught the startled words of the Geos:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Sign of the Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXVIII. &mdash; THE VOICE FROM THE VOID
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Even while that inexplicable heavenly pageant still burned against the
+      heavens, something else took place, a thing of much greater importance to
+      Chick. And, it happened right before his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the front of the car was a dial, slightly raised above the level of the
+      various controlling instruments. And all of a sudden this dial, a small
+      affair about six inches across, broke into light and life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      First, there was a white blaze that covered the whole disc; then the
+      whiteness abruptly gave way to a flood of colour, which resolved itself
+      into a perfect miniature of the tri-coloured cloverleaf in the sky ahead.
+      Chick saw, however that the positions of the red and green were just the
+      obverse of what glowed in the distance; and then he heard the voice,
+      strong and distinct, speaking with a slight metallic twang as from a
+      microphone hidden in that little, blazing, coloured leaf:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, ye who have ears to listen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was said in the Thomahlian tongue. The Geos breathed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The voice of the Prophet Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the next moment the unseen speaker began in another language&mdash;clear,
+      silver, musical&mdash;in English, and in a voice that Chick recognised!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chick! You have done well, my boy. Your courage and your intuition may
+      lead us out. Follow the prophecy to the letter, Chick; it MUST come to
+      pass, exactly as it is written! Don't fail to read it, there on the walls
+      of the Temple of the Bell, when you encounter the Bar Senestro on the Day
+      of the Prophet!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have discovered many things, my boy, but I am not omnipotent. Your
+      coming has made possible my last hope that I may return to my own kind,
+      and take with me the secrets of life. You have done right to trust your
+      instinct; have no fear, yet remember that if you&mdash;if we&mdash;make
+      one false step we are lost.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Finally, if you should succeed in your contest with the Senestro, I shall
+      send for you; but if you fail, I know how to die.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Return at once to the Mahovisal. Don't cross into the Region of Carbon.
+      Take care how you go back; the Bars are waiting. But you can put full
+      confidence in the Rhamdas.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the Thomahlian
+      tongue again: &ldquo;It is I who speak&mdash;I, the Prophet; the Prophet
+      Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased. Chick was
+      glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic, and too good to
+      believe. The first actual words from the missing professor! Each syllable
+      was frozen into Watson's memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos was clutching his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you understand, my lord? We heard the voice of the prophet! What did
+      he say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I understand. He used his own language&mdash;my language. And he
+      said&rdquo;&mdash;taking the reins firmly into his hands&mdash;&ldquo;he said that we
+      must return to the Thomahlia. And we must beware of the Bars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no thought of questioning him. Without waiting the Geos'
+      command, the Jan Lucar began putting the craft about. Watson glanced at
+      the sky; the great spectacle was gone; and he demanded of the soldier:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can we get back? How do we find our way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For there was no visible light save the strange, fitful glow from that
+      uncanny sky to guide them; no lights from the inky carpet of the
+      Thomahlia, lights such as one would expect for the benefit of fliers. But
+      the soldier touched a button, and instantly another and larger dial was
+      illumined above the instruments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It revealed a map or chart of a vast portion of the Thomahlia. On the
+      farther edge there appeared an area coloured to represent water, and
+      adjoining this area was a square spot labeled &ldquo;The Mahovisal.&rdquo; And about
+      midway from this point to the near edge of the dial a red dot hung, moving
+      slowly over the chart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The red dot, my lord, indicates our position,&rdquo; explained the Jan. &ldquo;In
+      that manner we know at all times where we are located, and which way we
+      are flying. We shall arrive in the Mahovisal shortly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he spoke the craft was gaining speed, and soon was travelling at an
+      even greater rate than before. The red dot began to crawl at an
+      astonishing speed. Of course, they had the benefit of the pull of gravity,
+      now; apparently they would make the journey in a few minutes. But
+      incredible though the speed might be, there was nothing but the red dot to
+      show it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos felt like talking. &ldquo;My lord, the sign is conclusive. It is a
+      marvel, such as only the prophet could possibly have produced; with all
+      our science we could not duplicate such splendour. Only once before has
+      the Thomahlia seen it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Already they were near enough to the surface to make out the clustered,
+      blinking lights of the towns on the plain below. Ahead of them queer
+      streamers of pale rays thrust through the darkness. Watson recognised them
+      as the beams of the far-distant searchlights; and then and there he gave
+      thanks for one thing, at least, in which the Thomahlians had seemingly
+      progressed no further than the people of the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Coming a little nearer, Chick made out a number of bright, glittering,
+      insect-like objects, revealed by these searchlights. The Jan Lucar said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Bars, my lord. They are waiting; and they will head us off if they
+      can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The work of Senestro, I suppose. I thought he claimed to some honour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not the prince's work, my lord,&rdquo; replied the soldier. &ldquo;His
+      D'Hartian and Kospian followers, some of them, have no scruples as to how
+      they might slay the 'false one', as they think you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose,&rdquo; hazarded Watson, &ldquo;suppose I WERE the false one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very sure as
+      he replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable
+      opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense as
+      sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square on the
+      lighted chart. And directly ahead, the air was becoming alive with the
+      beam-revealed aircraft. How could they get by in safety?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Chick did not know the Jan Lucar. The soldier said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord is not uneasy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; with unconcern. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I propose something daring. I am free to admit, my lord, that
+      were the Geos and I alone, I should not attempt it. But not even the
+      Bars,&rdquo; with magnificent confidence, &ldquo;can stand before us now! We have had
+      the proof of the Jarados, and we know that no matter what the odds, he
+      will carry us through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you going to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I propose to shoot it, my lord.&rdquo; And without explaining the Jan asked the
+      Geos: &ldquo;Are you agreeable? The June Bug will hold; the prophet will protect
+      us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; returned the Rhamda. &ldquo;There is nothing to fear, now, for those
+      who are in the company of the chosen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson wondering watched the Jan as he tilted the nose of the June Bug and
+      began to climb at an all but perpendicular angle straight into the
+      heavens. Mile after mile, in less than as many minutes, they hurtled
+      towards the zenith, so that the lights of the city dimmed until only the
+      searching shafts could be seen. Chick began to guess what they were going
+      to do; that the Jan Lucar was nearly as reckless as he was handsome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the soldier brought the craft to a level. They soared along
+      horizontally for a while; the Jan kept his eye fixed on the red dot. And
+      when it was directly above the black square he stated:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is considered a perilous feat, my lord. We are going to drop. If we
+      make it from this height, not only will we break all records, but will
+      have proved the June Bug the superior in this respect, as she is in speed.
+      It is our only chance in any circumstances, but with the Jarados at our
+      side, we need not fear that the craft will stand the strain. We shall go
+      through them like stone; before they know it we shall be in the drome&mdash;in
+      less than a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From this height?&rdquo; Chick concealed a shudder behind a fair show of
+      scepticism. &ldquo;A minute is not much time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does my lord fear the drop?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I? I have in mind the June Bug; she might be set afire through
+      friction, in dropping so quickly through the air.&rdquo; Watson had a vivid
+      picture of a blazing meteorite, containing the charred bodies of three
+      men, dropping out of&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord need not be concerned with that,&rdquo; the Jan assured him. &ldquo;The shell
+      of the car is provided with a number of tiny pores, through which a
+      heat-resisting fluid will be pumped during the manoeuvre. The temperature
+      may be raised a little, but no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see this plug,&rdquo; touching a hitherto unused knob among the
+      instruments. &ldquo;By pulling that out, the mechanism of the craft is
+      automatically adjusted to care for every phase of the descent. Nothing
+      else remains to be done, after removing that plug, save to watch the red
+      dot and prepare to step out upon the floor of our starting-place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has the thing ever been done before?&rdquo; Watson was sparring for time while
+      he gathered his nerve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I myself have seen it, my lord. The June Bug has been sent up many times,
+      weighted with ballast; the plug was abstracted by clockwork; and in
+      fifty-eight seconds she returned through the open end of the drone,
+      without a hitch. It was beautiful. I have always envied her that plunge.
+      And now I shall have the chance, with the hand of the Jarados as my guide
+      and protector!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick had just time to reflect that, if by any chance he got through with
+      this, he ought to be able to pass any test conceivable. He ought to be
+      able to get away with anything. He started to murmur a prayer; but before
+      he could finish, the Jan Lucar leaned over the dial-map for the last time,
+      saw that the red dot was now exactly central over the square that
+      represented the city, and unhesitatingly jerked out the plug.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of what happened next Watson remembered but little. The bottom seemed to
+      have dropped out of the universe. He was conscious of a crushing blur of
+      immensity, of a silent thundering within him&mdash;then mental chaos and a
+      stunned oblivion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XXXIX. &mdash; WHO IS THE JARADOS?
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was all over. Chick opened his eyes to see the Jan throwing open the
+      plate on the side of the compartment. Neither the soldier nor the Rhamda
+      seemed to have noted Chick's daze. As for the Jan, his blue eyes were
+      dancing with dare-devilry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what I call living!&rdquo; he grinned. &ldquo;They can keep on looking for the
+      June Bug all night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick looked out. They were inside the great room from which they had
+      started; the trip was over; the plunge had been made in safety. Chick took
+      a long breath, and held out a hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man after my own heart, Jan Lucar. I foresee that we may have great
+      sport with the Senestro.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye, my lord,&rdquo; cheerfully. &ldquo;The presumptuous usurper! I only wish I could
+      kill him, instead of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not the only one,&rdquo; commented the Rhamda. &ldquo;Half of the Rhamdas
+      would cheerfully act as the chosen one's proxy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so ended the events of Chick Watson's first day beyond the Blind Spot,
+      his first day on the Thomahlia; that is, disregarding the previous months
+      of unconsciousness. He had good reason to pass a sleepless night in
+      legitimate worry for the outcome of it all; but instead he slept the sound
+      sleep of exhaustion, awakening the next morning much refreshed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He reminded himself, first of all, that today was the one immediately
+      preceding that of his test&mdash;the Day of the Prophet. He had only a
+      little more than twenty-four hours to prepare. What was the best and
+      wisest proceeding?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He called for the Geos. He told him what data he wanted. The Rhamda said
+      that he could find everything in a library in that building, and inside a
+      half-hour he returned with a pile of manuscripts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Left to himself, Chick found that he now had data relating to all the
+      sciences, to religion, to education and political history and the law. The
+      chronology of the Thomahlians, Chick found, dates back no less than
+      fifteen thousand years. An abiding civilisation of that antiquity, it need
+      not be said, presented somewhat different aspects from what is known on
+      the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed that the Jarados had come miraculously. That is, he had come out
+      of the unknown, through a channel which he himself later termed the Spot
+      of Life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taught a religion of enlightenment, embracing intelligence, love,
+      virtue, and the higher ethics such as are inherent in all great
+      philosophies. But he did not call himself a religionist. That was the
+      queer point. He said that he had come to teach an advanced philosophy of
+      life; and he expressly stated that his teachings were absolute only to a
+      limited extent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man must seek and find,&rdquo; was one of his epigrams; &ldquo;and if he find no more
+      truths, then he will find lies.&rdquo; Which was merely a negative way of saying
+      that some of his philosophy was only provisional.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But on some points he was adamant. He had arrived at a time when the
+      unthinking, self-glorifying Thomahlians had all but exterminated the lower
+      orders of creation. The Jarados sought to remove the handicap which the
+      people had set upon themselves, and gave them, in the place of kindness
+      which they had forgotten, how to use, a burning desire for a positive
+      knowledge, where before had been only blind faith. Also, he taught
+      good-fellowship, as a means to this end. He taught beauty, love, and
+      laughter, the three great cleansers of humanity. And yet, through it all&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jarados was a mystic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He studied life after a manner of his own. He was a stickler for getting
+      down to the very heart of things, for prodding around among causes until
+      he found the cause itself. And thus he learned the secret of the occult.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For so he taught. And presently the Jarados was recognized as an authority
+      on what the Thomahlia called &ldquo;the next world.&rdquo; Only he showed that death,
+      instead of being an ushering into a void, was merely a translation onto
+      another plane of life, a higher plane and a more glorious one. In short, a
+      thing to be desired and attained, not to be avoided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This put the Spot of Life on an entirely different basis. No longer was it
+      a fearsome thing. The Jarados elevated death to the plane of motherhood&mdash;something
+      to glory in. And Chick gathered that his famous prophecy&mdash;which he
+      had yet to read, where it hung on the wall of the temple&mdash;gave every
+      detail of the Jarados' profound convictions and teachings regarding the
+      mystery of the next life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now comes a curious thing. As Chick read these details, he became more
+      and more conscious of&mdash;what shall it be called?&mdash;the presence of
+      someone or something beside him, above and all about him, watching his
+      every movement. He could not get away from the feeling, although it was
+      broad daylight, and he was seemingly quite alone in the room. Chick was
+      not frightened; but he could have sworn that a very real personality was
+      enveloping his own as he read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every word, somehow, reminded him of the miraculous sequence of facts as
+      he knew them; the unerring accuracy with which he, quite unthinkingly and
+      almost without volition, had solved problem after problem, although the
+      chances were totally against him. He became more and more convinced that
+      he himself had practically no control over his affairs; that he was in the
+      hands of an irresistible Fate; and that&mdash;he could not help it&mdash;his
+      good angel was none other than the prophet who, almost ninety centuries
+      ago, had lived and taught upon the Thomahlia, and in the end had returned
+      to the unknown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But how could such a thing be? Watson did not even know where he was!
+      Small wonder that, again and again, he felt the need of assurance. He
+      asked for the Jan Lucar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the first place,&rdquo; began Chick without preamble, &ldquo;you accept me, Jan
+      Lucar; do you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absolutely, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You conceive me to be out of the spiritual world, and yet flesh and blood
+      like yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; with flat conviction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That settled it. Watson decided to find out something he had not had time
+      to locate in the library.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhamda may have told you, Jan Lucar, that I am here to seek the
+      Jarados. Now, I suspect the Senestro. Can you imagine what he has done to
+      the prophet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord,&rdquo; remonstrated the other, &ldquo;daring as the Bar might be, he could
+      do nothing to the Jarados. He would not dare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he is afraid to run counter to the prophecy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord; that is, its literal interpretation. He is opposed only to
+      the broader version as held by such liberals as the Rhamda Avec. The Bars
+      are always warning the people against the false one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Senestro is at their head,&rdquo; mused Chick aloud. &ldquo;This brother of
+      his who died&mdash;usually there are two such princes and chiefs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Senestro plans to marry both queens, according to the custom!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord&rdquo;&mdash;and the Jan suddenly snapped erect&mdash;&ldquo;the Bar will do
+      exceedingly well if he succeeds in marrying one of them! Certainly he
+      shall never have the Aradna&mdash;not while I live and can fight!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! How about the Nervina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll do well to find her first!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True enough. What would you say was his code of honour?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord, the Senestro actually has no code. He believes in nothing. He is
+      so constituted, mentally and morally, that he cares for and trusts in none
+      but himself. He is a sceptic pure and simple; he cares nothing for the
+      Jarados and his teachings. He is an opportunist seeking for power, wicked,
+      lustful, cruel&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But a good sportsman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what way, my lord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't he allow me the choice of combat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan laughed, but his handsome face could not hide his contempt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is ever so with a champion, my lord. He has never been defeated in a
+      matter of physical prowess. It would be far more to his glory to overcome
+      you in combat of your own selection. It will be spectacular&mdash;he knows
+      the value of dramatic climax&mdash;and he would kill you in a moment,
+      before a million Thomahlians.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a nice way to die,&rdquo; said Watson. &ldquo;You must grant that much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know of any nice way to die, my lord. But it is a good way of
+      living&mdash;to kill the Bar Senestro. I would that I could have the
+      honour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does it come that the Rhamdas, superintellectual as they are, can
+      consent to such a contest? Is it not degrading, to their way of thinking?
+      It smacks of barbarism.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They do not look upon it in that light, my lord. Our civilisation has
+      passed beyond snobbery. Of course there was a time, centuries ago when we
+      were taught that any physical contest was brutal. But that was before we
+      knew better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't believe it now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means, my lord. The most wonderful physical thing in the Thomahlia
+      is the human body. We do not hide it. We admire beauty, strength, prowess.
+      The live body is above all art; it is the work of God himself; art is but
+      an imitation. And there is nothing so splendid as a physical contest&mdash;the
+      lightning correlation of mind and body. It is a picture of life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do the Rhamdas think this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most assuredly. A Rhamda is always first an athlete.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfection, my lord. A perfect mind does not always dwell in a perfect
+      body, but they strive for it as much as possible. The first test of a
+      Rhamda is his body. After he passes that he must take the mental test.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mental?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Moral first. The most rigid, perhaps of all; he must be a man above
+      suspicion. The honour of a Rhamda must never be questioned. He must be
+      upright and absolutely unselfish. He must be broad-minded, human, lovable,
+      and a leader of men. After that, my lord, comes the intellectual test.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must be a learned man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly, your lordship. There are many very learned men who could not
+      be Rhamdas; and there are many who have had no learning at all who
+      eventually were admitted. The qualifications are intellectual, not
+      educational; the mind is put to a rigid test. It is examined for
+      alertness, perception, memory, reason, emotion, and control. There is no
+      greater honour in all the Thomahlia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And they are all athletes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one, my lord. In all the world there is no finer body of men, I
+      myself would hesitate before entering a match with even the old Rhamda
+      Geos.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How about the Rhamda Avec?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor he, either; in the gymnasium he was always the superior, just as he
+      topped all others morally and mentally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Did this explain the Avec's physical prowess, on the one hand, and the
+      fact that he would not stoop to take that ring by force, on the other?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just one more thing, Jan Lucar. You have absolutely no fear that I may
+      fail tomorrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not the slightest, my lord. You cannot fail!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already said&mdash;because you are from the Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Chick, facing the greatest experience of his life, submerged in a sea
+      wherein only a few islands of fact were visible, had to be content with
+      this: his only friends were those who were firmly convinced of something
+      which, he knew only too well, was a flat fraud! All this backing was based
+      upon a misled faith.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No, not quite. Was there not that strange feeling that the Jarados himself
+      was at his back? And had he not found that the prophet had been real? Did
+      he not feel, as positively as he felt anything, that the Jarados was still
+      a reality?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick went to bed that night with a light heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XL. &mdash; THE TEMPLE OF THE BELL. &mdash;
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was hard for Chick to remember all the details of that great day.
+      Throughout all the morning and afternoon he remained in his apartments.
+      Breakfast over, the Rhamdas told him his part in certain ceremonies, such
+      as need not be detailed here. They were very solicitous as to his food and
+      comfort, and as to his feelings and anticipations. His nonchalance pleased
+      them greatly. Afterward he had a bath and rub-down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A combat to the death, was it to be? Suits me, thought Watson. He was
+      never in finer form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan Lucar was particularly interested. He pinched and stroked Chick's
+      muscles with the caressing pride of a connoisseur. Watson stepped out of
+      the fountain bath in all the vigour of health. He playfully reached out
+      for the Lucar and tripped him up. He sought to learn just what the
+      Thomahlians knew in the art of self-defence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The brief struggle that ensued taught him that he need expect no easy
+      conquest. The Jan was quick, active and the possessor of a science
+      peculiarly effective. The Thomahlians did not box in the manner of the
+      Anglo-Saxons; their mode was peculiar. Chick foresaw that he would be
+      compelled to combine the methods of three kinds of combat: boxing,
+      ju-jitsu, and the good old catch-as-catch-can wrestling. If the Senestro
+      were superior to the Jan, he would have a time indeed. Though Watson
+      conquered, he could not but concede that the Jan was not only clever but
+      scientific to an oily, bewildering degree. The Lucar paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enough, my lord! You are a man indeed. Do not overdo; save yourself for
+      the Senestro.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Clothes were brought, and Chick taken back to his apartment. The time
+      passed with Rhamdas constantly at his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos was not present, nor the little queen. Chick sought permission to
+      sit by the window&mdash;permission that was granted after the guards had
+      placed screens that would withhold any view from outside, yet permit Chick
+      to look out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As far as he could see, the avenues were packed with people. Only, this
+      time the centres of the streets were clear; on the curbs he could see the
+      opposing lines of the blue and crimson, holding back the waiting
+      thousands. In the distance he could hear chimes, faint but distinct, like
+      silver bells tinkling over water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At intervals rose strange choruses of weird, holy music. The full sweep of
+      the city's domes and minarets was spread out before him. From eaves to
+      basements the rolling luxuriance of orchidian beauty; banners, music,
+      parade; a day of pageant, pomp, and fulfilment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could catch the excitement in the air, the strange, laden undercurrent
+      of spiritual salvation-something esoteric, undefinable, the ecstasy of a
+      million souls pulsing to the throb of a supreme moment. He drew back,
+      someone had touched him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one of the Rhamdas. He had in his hand a small metal clover, of the
+      design of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do I do?&rdquo; asked Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; said the Rhamda, &ldquo;was sent to you by one of the Bars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a Bar! What does it mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other shook his head. &ldquo;It was sent to you by one who wished it to be
+      known by us that he is your friend, even though a Bar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then Watson noted something sticking out of the edge of one of the
+      clover leaves. He pulled it out. It was a piece of paper. On it were
+      scrawled words IN ENGLISH.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The writing was pencil script, done in a poor hand and ill-spelled, but
+      still English. Chick read:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be of good cheer; there ain't a one in this world that can top a lad from
+      Frisco. And it's Pat MacPherson that says it. Yer the finest laddie that
+      ever got beyond the old Witch of Endor. You and me, if we hold on, is just
+      about goin' to play hell with the haythen. Hold on and fight like the
+      divil! Remember that Pat is with ye!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're both spooks.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;PAT MACPHERSON&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      Said Watson: &ldquo;Who gave you this? Did you see the man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was sent up my lord. The man was a high Bar in the Senestro's guard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson could not understand this. Was it possible that there were others
+      in this mysterious region besides himself? At any rate, he wasn't wholly
+      alone. He felt that he could count upon the Irishman&mdash;or was this
+      fellow Scotch? Anyhow, such a man would find the quick means of wit at a
+      crucial moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Watson noted a queer feeling of emptiness. He looked out of the
+      window. The music had ceased, and the incessant hum of the throngs had
+      deadened to silence. It was suspended, awesome, threatening. At the same
+      time, the Jan Lucar came to attention, at the opposite door stood the
+      Rhamda Geos, black clad, surrounded by a group of his fellows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, my lord,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The crimson guard fell in behind Watson, the black-gowned took their
+      places ahead, and the Jan Lucar and the Geos walked on either side. They
+      stepped out into the corridor. By the indicator of a vertical clock, Chick
+      noted that it was nine. He did not know the day of the year other than
+      from the Thomahlian calendar; but he knew that it was close to sunset. He
+      did not ask where they were going; there was no need. The very solemnity
+      of his companions told him more than their answers would have. In a moment
+      they were in the streets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson had thought that they would be taken by aircraft, or that they
+      would pass through the building. He did not know that it was a concession
+      to the Bar Senestro; that the Senestro was but playing a bit of psychology
+      that is often practised by lesser champions. If Watson's nerve was not
+      broken it was simply because of the iron indifference of confident health.
+      Chick had never been defeated. He had no fear. He was far more curious as
+      to the scenes and events about him than he was of the outcome. He was
+      hoping for some incident that would link itself up into explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the door a curious car of graceful lines was waiting, an odd affair
+      that might be classed as a cross between a bird and a gondola, streaming
+      with colours and of magnificent workmanship and design. On the deck of
+      this the three men took their places; on the one side the Rhamda Geos,
+      tall, sombre, immaculate; on the other, the magnificent Jan Lucar in the
+      gorgeous crimson uniform, gold-braided and studded with jewels; on his
+      head he wore the shako of purple down, and by his side a peculiar black
+      weapon which he wore much in the manner of a sword.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the centre, Watson&mdash;bareheaded, his torso bare and his arms naked.
+      He had been given a pair of soft sandals, and a short suit, whose one
+      redeeming feature in his eyes was a pocket into which he had thrust the
+      automatic that he valued so much. It was more like a picture of Rome than
+      anything else. Whatever the civilisation of the Thomahlians, their ritual
+      in Watson's eyes smacked still of barbarism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he was intensely interested in all about him. The avenues were large.
+      On either side the guards were drawn up eight deep, holding back the
+      multitude that pressed and jostled with the insistence of curiosity. He
+      looked into the myriad faces; about him, splendid features, of intelligent
+      man and women.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not one face suggested the hideous; the women were especially beautiful,
+      and, from what he could see, finely formed and graceful. Many of them
+      smiled; he could hear the curious buzz of conjecturing whispers. Some were
+      indifferent, while others, from the expression of their faces, were openly
+      hostile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick was in the middle of a procession, the Rhamdas marching before and
+      the crimson guard bringing up the rear. A special guard: the inner one,
+      Rhamdas, the outer one of crimson surrounding them all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car started. There was no trace of friction; it was noiseless,
+      automatic. Chick could only conjecture as to its mechanism. The black
+      column of Rhamdas moved ahead rhythmically, with the swing of solemn
+      grandeur. For some minutes they marched through the streets of the
+      Mahovisal. There was no cheering; it was a holy, awesome occasion. Chick
+      could sense the undercurrent of the staring thousands, the reverence and
+      the piety. It was the Day of the Prophet. They were staring at a miracle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The column turned a corner. For the first time Watson was staggered by
+      sheer immensity; for the first time he felt what it might be to see with
+      the eyes of an insect. Had he been an ant looking up at the columns of
+      Karnak, he would still have been out of proportion. It was immense,
+      colossal, beyond man. It was of the omnipotent&mdash;the pillared portal
+      of the Temple of the Bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such a building a genius might dream of, in a moment of unhampered,
+      inspired imagination. It was stupendous. The pillars were hexagonal in
+      shape, and in diameter each of about the size of an ordinary house.
+      Dropping from an immense height, it seemed as if they had originally
+      poured out in the form of molten metal from immense bell-like flares that
+      fell from the vaulted architrave. Such was the design.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick got the impression that the top of the structure, somehow, was not
+      supported by the foundation, but rather the reverse&mdash;the floor was
+      suspended from the ceiling. It was the work of the Titans&mdash;so high
+      and stupendous that at the first instant Watson felt numb with
+      insignificance. What chance had he against men of such colossal
+      conception.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How large the building was he could not see. The Gargantuan facade itself
+      was enough to smother comprehension. It was laid out in the form of a
+      triangle, one end of which was open towards the city; the two sections of
+      the facade met under a huge, arched opening&mdash;the door itself. Watson
+      recognised the structure as the one he had seen from the June Bug on the
+      outskirts of the Mahovisal. The enormous plaza was packed with people,
+      leaving only a narrow lane for the procession; and as far back as Chick
+      could see crowds in the streets converged towards this vast space. Their
+      numbers were incalculable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The car stopped. The guards, both crimson and blue, formed a twenty-fold
+      cordon. Watson could feel the suspended breath of the waiting multitude.
+      The three men stepped out&mdash;the Geos first, then the Jan Lucar, and
+      Watson last. Chick caught the Lucar's eye; it was confident; the man was
+      springing with vigour, jovial in spite of the moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed between two of the huge pillars, and under the giant arch. For
+      a few minutes they walked through what seemed, to Chick, a perfect maze of
+      those titanic columns. And every foot was marked by the lines of crimson
+      and blue, flanking either side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An immense sea of people rose high into the forest of pillars as far as
+      his eye could reach. He had never been in such a concourse of humanity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed through an inner arch, a smaller and lower one, into what
+      Chick guessed was the temple proper. And if Chick had thought the anteroom
+      stupendous, he saw that a new word, one which went beyond all previous
+      experience, was needed to describe what he now saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was almost too immense to be grasped in its entirety. Gone was the maze
+      of columns; instead, far, far away to the right and to the left, stood
+      single rows of herculean pillars. There were but seven on a side,
+      separated by great distances; and between them stretched a space so
+      immense, so incredibly vast, that a small city could have been housed
+      within it. And over it all was not the open sky, but a ceiling of such
+      terrific grandeur that Chick almost halted the procession while he gazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For that ceiling was the under side of a cloud, a grey-black, forbidding
+      thundercloud. And the fourteen pillars, seven on either side, were
+      prodigious waterspouts, monster spirals of the hue of storm, with flaring
+      sweeps at top and bottom that welded roof and floor into one terrific
+      whole. Sheer from side to side stretched that portentous level cloud; it
+      was a span of an epoch; and on either side it was rooted in those awful
+      columns, seemingly alive, as though ready at any instant to suck up the
+      earth into the infinite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By downright will-power Watson tore his attention away and directed it
+      upon the other features of that unprecedented interior. It was lighted,
+      apparently, by great windows behind the fourteen pillars; windows too far
+      to be distinguishable. And the light revealed, directly ahead something
+      that Chick at first thought to be a cascade of black water. It leaped out
+      of the rear wall of the temple, and at its crest it was bordered with
+      walls of solid silver, cut across and designed with scrolls of gold and
+      gem work; walls that swooped down and ended with two huge green columns at
+      the base of that fantastic fall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they approached a swarm of tiny bronze objects, silver winged,
+      fluttered out through the temple&mdash;tiny birds, smaller than swallows,
+      beautiful and swift-winged, elusive. They were without number; in a moment
+      the air of the temple was alive with flitting, darting spots of glinting
+      colour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Chick saw that there were two people sitting high on the crest of
+      that cascade. Wondering, Chick and the rest marched on through the silent
+      crowd; all standing with bared heads and bated breaths. The worshipping
+      Thomahlians filled every inch of that enormous place. Only a narrow lane
+      permitted the procession to pass towards that puzzling, silent, black
+      waterfall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were almost at its base when Chick saw the vanguard of the Rhamdas
+      unhesitatingly stride straight against the torrent, and then mount upon
+      it. Up they marched; and Chick knew that the black water was black jade,
+      and that the two people at its crest were seated upon a landing at the top
+      of the grandest stairway he had ever seen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Up went the Rhamdas deploying to right and left against the silver walls.
+      The crimson and blue uniformed guards remained behind, lining the lane
+      through the throng. At the foot of the steps Chick stopped and looked
+      around, and again he felt numb at the sheer vastness of it all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For he was looking back now at the portal through which the procession had
+      marched; a portal now closed; and above it, covering a great expanse of
+      that wall and extending up almost into the brooding cloud above, was
+      spread a mighty replica of the tri-coloured Sign of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time Chick felt the full significance of symbolism. Whereas
+      before it had been but an incident of adventure, now it was the symbol of
+      mystic revelation. It was not only the motif for all other decoration upon
+      the walls and minor elements of the temple; it was the emblem of the
+      trinity, deep, holy, significant of the mystery of the universe and the
+      hereafter. There was something deeper than mere fatalism; behind all was
+      the fact-rooted faith of a civilisation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at that moment, as Chick paused with one foot on the bottom step of
+      the flight, something happened that sent quivers of joy and confidence all
+      through him. Someone was talking&mdash;talking in English!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick looked. The speaker was a man in the blue garb of the Senestro's
+      guard. He was standing at the end of the line nearest the stair, and
+      slightly in front of his fellows. Like the rest, he was holding his
+      weapon, a black, needled-pointed sword, at the salute. Chick gave him only
+      a glance, then had the presence of mind to look elsewhere as a man said,
+      in a low, guarded voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Y' air right, me lad; don't look at me. I know what ye're thinkin'. But
+      she ain't as bad as she looks! Keep yer heart clear; never fear. You an'
+      me can lick all Thomahlia! Go straight up them stairs, an' stand that
+      blackguard Senestro on his 'ead, just like y'd do in Frisco!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asked Watson, intent upon the great three-leafed clover. He
+      used the same low, cautious tone the other had employed. &ldquo;Who are you,
+      friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pat MacPherson, of course,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;An' Oi've said a plenty.
+      Now, go aboot your business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson did not quibble. There was no time to learn more. He did not wish
+      it to be noticed; yet he could not hide it from the Jan Lucar and the
+      Rhamda Geos, who were still at his side. They had heard that tongue
+      before. The looks they exchanged told, however, that they were gratified
+      rather than displeased by the interruption. Certainly all feelings of
+      depression left Chick, and he ascended the stairs with a glad heart and a
+      resilient stride that could not but be noticed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was ready for the Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLI. &mdash; THE PROPHECY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Reaching the top of the jade steps, Chick found the landing to be a great
+      dais, nearly a hundred feet across. On the right and left this dais was
+      hedged in by the silver walls, on each of which was hung a huge, golden
+      scrollwork. These scrolls bore legends, which for the moment Chick
+      ignored. At the rear of the dais was a large object like a bronze bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The floor was of the usual mosaic, except in the centre, where there was a
+      plain, circular design. Chick took careful note of this, a circle about
+      twenty feet across, as white and unbroken as a bed of frozen snow. Whether
+      it was stone or not he could not determine. All around its edge was a gap
+      that separated it from the dais, a gap several inches across. Chick turned
+      to Geos:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Spot of Life?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even so. It is the strangest thing in all the Thomahlia, my lord. Can you
+      feel it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For Watson had reached out with his toe and touched the white surface. He
+      drew it back suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has a feeling,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;that I cannot describe. It is cold, and
+      yet it is not. Perhaps it is my own magnetism.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! It is well, my lord!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What the Rhamda meant by that Chick could not tell. He was interested in
+      the odd white substance. It was as smooth as glass, although at intervals
+      there were faint, almost imperceptible, dark lines, like the finest
+      scratches in old ivory. Yet the whiteness was not dazzling. Again Watson
+      touched it with his foot, and noted the inexplicable feeling of
+      exhilaration. In the moment of absorption he quite forgot the concourse
+      about him. He knew that he was now standing on the crux of the Blind Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in a minute he turned. The dais was a sort of nave, with one end open
+      to the stairway. Seated on his left was the frail Aradna, occupying a
+      small throne-like chair of some translucent green material. On the right
+      sat the Bar Senestro, in a chair differing only in that its colour was a
+      bright blue. In the centre of the dais stood a third chair&mdash;a crimson
+      one&mdash;empty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Senestro stood up. He was royally clad, his breast gleaming with
+      jewels. He was certainly handsome; he had the carriage of confident
+      royalty. There was no fear in this man, no uncertainty, no weakness. If
+      confidence were a thing of strength, the Senestro was already the victor.
+      In his heart Chick secretly admired him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But just then the Aradna stood up, She made an indication to Watson. He
+      stepped over to the queen. She sat down again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to give you my benediction, stranger lord. Are you sure of
+      yourself? Can you overcome the Senestro?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am certain,&rdquo; spoke Watson. &ldquo;It is for the queen, O Aradna. I know
+      nothing of the prophecy; but I will fight for you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She blushed and cast a furtive look in the direction of the Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is well,&rdquo; she spoke. &ldquo;The outcome will have a double interpretation&mdash;the
+      spiritual one of the prophecy, and the earthly, material one that concerns
+      myself. If you conquer, my lord, I am freed. I would not marry the
+      Senestro; I love him not. I would abide by the prophet, and await the
+      chosen.&rdquo; She hesitated. &ldquo;What do you know of the chosen, my lord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, O Aradna.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has not the Rhamda Geos told you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Partly, but not fully. There is something that he is withholding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very likely. And now&mdash;will you kneel, my lord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson knelt. The queen held out her hand. Behind him Chick could hear a
+      deep murmur from the assembled multitudes. Just what was the significance
+      of that sound he did not know; nor did he care. It was enough for him that
+      he was to fight for this delicately beautiful maiden. He would let the
+      prophecy take care of itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides these three on the dais there were only the Rhamda Geos and the
+      Jan Lucar. These two remained on the edge nearest the body of the temple,
+      the edge at the crest of the stair. The empty chair remained so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Chick remembered the warning of Dr. Holcomb: &ldquo;Read the words of
+      the Prophet.&rdquo; And he took advantage of the breathing-spell to peruse the
+      legends on the great golden scrolls:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      THE PROPHECY OF THE JARADOS
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Behold! When the day is at hand, prepare ye!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For, when that day cometh, ye shall have signs and portents from the world
+      beyond. Wisdom cometh out of life, and life walketh out of wisdom. Yea, in
+      the manner of life and of spirit ye shall have them, and of substance even
+      like unto you yourselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it shall come to pass in the last days, that we shall be on guard. By
+      these signs ye shall know them; even by the truths I have taught thee. The
+      way of life is an open door; wisdom and virtue are its keys. And when the
+      intelligence shall be lifted to the plane above&mdash;then shalt thou
+      know!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mark ye well the Spot of Life! He that openeth it is the precursor of
+      judgment. Mark him well!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And thus shall the last days come to pass. See that ye are worthy, O wise
+      ones! For behold in those last days there shall come among ye&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The chosen of a line of kings. First there shall be one, and then there
+      shall be two; and the two shall stay but the one shall return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The false ones. Them ye shall slay!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The four footed: The call to humility, sacrifice and devotion, whom ye
+      shall hold in reverence even as you hold me, the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And on the last day of all&mdash;I, the Jarados!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I have given ye, and
+      the day be postponed&mdash;beware ye of sacrilege!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And if the false ones cometh not, ye shall know that I have held them.
+      Know ye the day!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sixteen days from the day of the prophet, shall come the day of the
+      judgment; and the way shall be opened, on the last day, the sixteenth day
+      of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hearken to the words of the Jarados, the prophet and mouthpiece of the
+      infinite intelligence, ruler of justice, peace, and love! So be it
+      forever!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick read it a second time. Like all prophecies, it was somewhat Delphic;
+      but he could get the general drift. In that golden script he was looking
+      into the heart of all Thomahlia&mdash;into its greatness, its culture, its
+      civilisation itself. It was the soul of the Blind Spot, the reason and the
+      wherefore of all about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard someone step up behind him, and he turned. It was the Senestro,
+      going over the words of the prophecy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you read it, Sir Phantom?&rdquo; asked the handsome Bar. His black eyes
+      were twinkling with delight. &ldquo;Have you read it all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put a hand on Chick's shoulder. It was a careless act, almost friendly.
+      Either he had the heart of a devil or the chivalry of a paladin. He
+      pointed to a line:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The false ones. Them ye shall slay.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I were the false one, you would slay me?&rdquo; asked Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye, truly!&rdquo; answered the splendid prince. &ldquo;You are well made and good to
+      look upon. I shall hold you in my arms; I shall hear your bones crack; it
+      shall be sweeter music than that of the temple pheasants, who never sing
+      but for the Jarados. I shall slay you upon the Spot, Sir Phantom!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson turned on his heel. The ethics of the Senestro were not of his own
+      code. He was not afraid; he stood beside the Jan Lucar and gazed out into
+      the body of the temple. As far as he could see, under and past the
+      fourteen great pillars and right up to the far wall, the floor was a vast
+      carpet of humanity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was become dark. Presently a new kind of light began to glow far
+      overhead, gradually increasing in strength until the whole place was
+      suffused with a sun-like illumination. The Rhamda Geos began to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the last day, in the Day of Life. We have the substance of ourselves,
+      and the words of the prophet. The Jarados has written his prophecy in
+      letters of gold, for all to see. 'The false ones. Them ye shall slay.' It
+      is the will of the Rhamdas that the great Bar Senestro shall try the proof
+      of the occult. On this, the first of the Sixteen Days, the test shall be&mdash;on
+      the Spot of Life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away. The Bar Senestro stripped off his jewels, his semi-armour,
+      and stood clad in the manner of Watson. They advanced and met in the
+      centre of the dais, two athletes, lithe, strong, handsome, their muscles
+      aquiver with vitality and their skins silken with health. Champions of two
+      worlds, to wrestle for truth!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A low murmur arose, increasing until it filled the whole coliseum. The
+      silver-bronze pheasants flitted above the heads of all, flashing like
+      fragments of the spirit of light. And all of a sudden&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of them fluttered down and lit on Watson's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The murmur of the throng dropped to a dead silence. Next moment a stranger
+      thing happened. The little creature broke forth in full-throated song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson instantly remembered the words of the Bar Senestro: &ldquo;They sing but
+      for the Jarados.&rdquo; He quietly reached up and caught the songster in his
+      hand, and he held it up to the astonished crowd. Still the song continued.
+      Chick held him an instant longer, and then gave him a toss high into the
+      air. He shot across the temple, a streak of melody, silver, dulcet, to the
+      far corner of the giant building.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the thing did not jar the Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well done, Sir Phantom! Anyhow, 'tis your last play! I would not have it
+      otherwise. I hope you can die as prettily! Are you ready?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ready? What for?&rdquo; retorted Watson. &ldquo;Why, should I trouble myself with
+      preparations?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Rhamda Geos had now come to his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do your best, my lord. I regret only that it must be to the death. It is
+      the first death contest in the Thomahlia for a thousand circles (years).
+      But the Senestro has challenged the prophecy. Prove that you are not a
+      false one! My heart is with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a good word at a needed moment. Watson stepped over onto the
+      circular Spot of Life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were both barefooted. Evidently the Thomahlians fought in the old,
+      classic manner. The stone under Watson's feet was cool and invigorating.
+      He could sense anew that quiver of magnetism and strength. It sent a
+      thrill through his whole body, like the subtle quickening of life. He felt
+      vital, joyous, confident.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Senestro was smiling, his eyes flashing with anticipation. His muscled
+      body was a network of soft movement. His step was catlike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will it be?&rdquo; inquired Watson. &ldquo;Name your choice of destruction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Bar shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so, Sir Phantom. You shall choose the manner of your death, not I.
+      Particular I am not, nor selfish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make it wrestling, then,&rdquo; in his most off-hand manner. He was a good
+      wrestler, and scientific.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good. Are you ready?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, Sir Phantom. I shall walk to the edge of the Spot and turn
+      around. I would take no unfair advantage. Now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick turned at the same moment and strode to his edge. He turned, and it
+      happened; just what, Chick never knew. He remembered seeing his opponent
+      turn slowly about, and in the next split second he was spinning in the
+      clutch of a tiger. Even before they struck the stone, Chick could feel the
+      Senestro reaching for a death-hold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in that one second Watson knew that he was in the grip of his master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His mind functioned like lightning. His legs and arms flashed for the
+      counterhold that would save him. They struck the Spot and rolled over and
+      over. Chick caught his hold, but the Senestro broke it almost instantly.
+      Yet it had saved him; for a minute they spun around like a pair of
+      whirligigs. Watson kept on the defensive. He had not the speed and skill
+      of the other. It was no mere test to touch his shoulders; it was a fight
+      to the death; he was at a disadvantage. He worked desperately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When a man fights for his life he becomes superhuman. Watson was put to
+      something more than his skill; the sheer spirit of the Bar broke hold
+      after hold; he was like lightning, panther-like, subtle, vicious. Time
+      after time he spun Chick out of his defense and bore him down into a hold
+      of death. And each time Chick somehow wriggled out, and saved himself by a
+      new hold. The struggle became a blur&mdash;muscle, legs, the lust for
+      killing&mdash;and hatred. Twice Watson essayed the offensive; first he got
+      a hammer lock, and then a half-Nelson. The Bar broke both holds
+      immediately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whatever Chick knew of wrestling, the Senestro knew just a bit more. It
+      was a whirling mass of legs and bodies in continuous convulsion, silent
+      except for the terrible panting of the men, and the low, stifled
+      exclamations of the onlookers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson grew weak. He tried once more. They spun to their feet. But before
+      he could act the Senestro had caught him in the same flying rush as in the
+      beginning, and had whirled him off his feet. And when he came down the Bar
+      had an unbreakable hold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick struggled in vain. The Bar tightened his grip. A spasm of pain shot
+      through Chick's torso; he could feel his bones giving way. His strength
+      was gone; he could see death. Another moment would have been the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But something happened. The Senestro miraculously let go his hold. Chick
+      felt something soft brush against his cheek. He heard a queer snapping,
+      and shouts of wonder, and a dreadful choking sound from the Bar. He raised
+      dizzily on one arm. His eyes cleared a bit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The great Bar was on his back; and at his throat was a snarling thing&mdash;the
+      creature that Chick had seen in the clover leaf of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a living dog.
+    </p>
+
+<p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0044b" id="link2H_4_0044b"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLII. &mdash; PAT MACPHERSON'S STORY
+    </h2>
+
+    <p>
+      To Watson it was all a blur. He was too weak and too broken to remember
+      distinctly. He was conscious only of an uproar, of a torrent of
+      multitudinous sound. And then&mdash;the deep, enveloping tone of a bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some time, somewhere, Chick had heard that bell before. In his present
+      condition his memory refused to serve him. He was covered with blood; he
+      tried to rise, to crawl to this snarling animal that was throttling the
+      Senestro. But something seemed to snap within him, and all went black.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he opened his eyes again all had changed. He was lying on a couch
+      with a number of people about. It was a minute before he recognized the
+      Jan Lucar, then the Geos, and lastly the nurse whom he had first seen when
+      he awoke in the Blind Spot. Evidently he was in the hands of his friends,
+      although there was a new one, a red-headed man, clad in the blue uniform
+      of a high Bar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat up. The nurse held a goblet of the green liquid to his lips. The
+      Bar in blue turned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Give him some of the liquor; it will do him good. It will
+      put the old energy back in his bones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The voice rang oddly familiar in Watson's ears. The words were Thomahlian;
+      not until Chick had drained his glass did he comprehend their
+      significance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Bar with the red hair grinned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whist, me lad,&rdquo; using Chick's own tongue. &ldquo;Get rid of these Thomahlians.
+      'Tis a square game we're playin', but we're takin' no chances. Get 'em out
+      of the way so we kin talk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson turned to the others. He made the request in his adopted tongue.
+      They bowed, reverently, and withdrew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; Chick asked again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oi'm Pat MacPherson.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other sat on the edge of the bed. &ldquo;Faith, how kin Oi tell ye? 'Twas a
+      drink, sor; a new kind av a high-ball, th' trickery av a friend an' th'
+      ould Witch av Endor put togither.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Obviously Watson did not understand. The stranger continued: &ldquo;Faith, sor,
+      an' no more do Oi. There's no one as does, 'cept th' ould doc hisself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The old doc! You mean Dr. Holcomb?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson sat up in his bed. &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In a safe place, me lad. Dinna fear for th' doctor. 'Twas him as saved ye&mdash;him
+      an' your humble sarvant, Pat MacPherson, bedad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&mdash;and you&mdash;saved me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye&mdash;there on th' Spot of Life. A bit of a thrick as th' ould doc
+      dug oot o' his wisdom. Sure, she dinna work jist loike he said it, but
+      'twas a plenty t' oopset th' pretty Senestro!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson asked, &ldquo;What became of the Senestro?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure, they pulled him oot. Th' wee doggie jist aboot had him done for.
+      Bedad, she's a good pup!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of a dog?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A foine wan, sor, wit a bit stub av a tail. An' she's that intelligent,
+      she kin jist about talk Frinch. Th' Thomahlians all called her th'
+      Four-footed, an' if they kape on, they'll jist aboot make her th' Pope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson was still thick headed. &ldquo;I don't understand!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor I laddie. But th' ould doc does. He's got a foine head for figgers;
+      and' he's that scientific, he kin make iron oot o' rainbows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Iron out of&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rainbows, sor. Faith, 'tis meself thot's seen it. And he's been watchin'
+      over ye ever since ye came. 'Twas hisself, lad, that put it into your head
+      t' call him th' Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean to say that the professor put those impulses into my
+      head!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye, laddie; you said it. He kin build up a man's thoughts just like you
+      or me kin pile oop lumber. 'Tis that deep he is wit' th' calculations!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson tried to think. There was just one superlative question now. He put
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dinna know if he's th' Jarados,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;But if so be not, then
+      he's his twin brother, sure enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he a prisoner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldna say that, though there's them as think so. But if it be anybody
+      as is holdin' him, 'tis the Senestro an' his gang o' guards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson looked at the other's uniform, at the purple shako on his head, the
+      jewelled weapon at his side, and the Jaradic leaf on his shoulder&mdash;insignia
+      of a Bar of the highest rank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does it come that you're a Bar, and a high one at that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other grinned again. He took off his shako and ran his hand through
+      his mop of red hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis aither th' luck of th' Irish, me lad, or of th' Scotch. Oi don't ken
+      which&mdash;Oi'm haff each&mdash;but mostly 'tis th' virtoo av me bonny
+      red hair.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because, leastways, in th' Thomahlia, there's always a dhrop av royalty
+      in th' red-headed. Me bonnie top-knot has made me a fortune. Ye see, 'tis
+      th' mark av th' royal Bars themselves; no ithers have it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson said: &ldquo;If you have come from Dr. Holcomb, then you must have a
+      message from him to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ye've said it; you an' me, an' a few Rhamdas, an' mebbe th' wee queen is
+      goin' t' take a flight in th' June Bug. We're goin' afther th' ould doc;
+      an' ye kin bet there'll be as pretty a scrap as ever ye looked on. An'
+      afther thot's all over, we're goin' t' take anither kind of a flight&mdash;into
+      good old Frisco.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick instantly asked Pat if he knew where San Francisco might be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faith, 'tis only th' ould doc knows, laddie. But when we git there, 'tis
+      Pat MacPherson that's a goin' for Toddy Maloney.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bedad, I do. Him it was thot give me th' dhrink.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What drink?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Th' dhrink thot done it. Twas a new kind av cocktail. Ye see, I'd jist got
+      back from Melbourne, an' I was takin' in th' lights that noight, aisy
+      like, whin I come t' Toddy's place. I orders a dhrink av whuskey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Whist, Pat,' says he, 'ye don't want whuskey; 'twill make ye dhrunk. Why
+      don't ye take somethin' green, like th' Irish?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Green,&rdquo; says I. ''Tis a foine colour. I dinna fear anything thot comes
+      fra' a bottle. Pass'er oot!'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' thot he did. 'Twas 'creme de menthay' on th' bottle. 'An',' says he,
+      ''Twon't make ye dhrunk.' But he was a liar, beggin' yer pardin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For by an' by Oi see his head a growin' larger an' larger, until Oi
+      couldn't see annything but a few loights on th' cailing, an' a few people
+      on th' edges, loike. An' afther thot Oi wint oot, an' walked till Oi come
+      to a hill. An' there was a moon, an' a ould hoose standin' still, which
+      th' moon was not. So Oi stood still to watch it, but bein' tired an' weary
+      an' not havin' got rid o' me sea-legs, Oi sat me doon on th' steps av th'
+      hoose for a bit av a rest, an' t' watch th' moon, thinkin' mebbe she'd
+      stand still by an' by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sor, Oi hadn't been there more'n three 'r four minits, whin th'
+      door opened, an' oot steps a little ould lady, aboot th' littlest an'
+      ouldest Oi iver see in 'Frisco.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Good avenin', Mother Machree,' says Oi, touchin' me hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Mother Machree!' says she, an' gives me a sharp look. Also she sniffs.
+      'Ye poor man,' says she. 'Ye'll catch yer death o' cold, out here. Ye
+      better coom in an' lie on me sofy.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, sor, how was Oi to ken, bein' a sailor an' ingorant? She was only a
+      ould lady, an' withered. How was Oi to ken thot she was th' ould Witch o'
+      Endor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson's memory was at work on what he knew of the house at Chatterton
+      Place, especially regarding its occupants at the beginning of the Blind
+      Spot mystery. The Bar's old remark caught his attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Witch of Endor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye; thot she were. Whin Oi woke up, there was nary a hoose at all, nor
+      th' ould lady, nor Toddy Maloney's, nor 'Frisco. 'Twas a strange place I
+      was, sor; a church loike St. Peter's, only bigger, th' same bein' harrd to
+      belaive. An' th' columns looked loike waterspoots, an' th' sky above was
+      full av clouds, the same bein' jest aboot ready to break into hell an'
+      tempest. But ye've been there yerself, sor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, here was a man beside me, dressed in a kilt. An' he spakes a
+      strange language, although Oi could undershtand; and' he says, says he:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'My lord,' was what he says.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'My lord!' says Oi. 'Oi dinna ken what ye mane at all, at all.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Are ye not a Bar?' says he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Thot Oi am not!' says Oi, spakin' good English, so's to be sure he'd
+      understand. 'Oi'm Pat MacPherson.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he couldn' ken. Thin we left th' temple an' wint out into the street.
+      An' a great crowd of people came aroun' an' began shoutin'. By an' by we
+      wint into anither buildin'.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'For why sh'd iverybody look at me whin we crossed th' street jest noo?'
+      I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis y'r clothes,' says he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Oi don't enjoy pooblicity, sor; wherefore th' wily Scotch in me told
+      me what to do, an' th' Irish part of me did it. I stood him on his head,
+      an' took his clothes off an' put them on meself. An' then no one noticed
+      me. Thot is, until Oi took me hat off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean, that shako?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yis; th' blaemd heavy thing&mdash;'tis made o' blue feathers. Well, whin
+      it got so hot it made me scalp sweat, Oi took it off; an' then they called
+      me&mdash;'My lord' an' 'your worship,' jest loike Oi were a king.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Pray God,' says Oi, 'that me head dinna get bald.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sor, Oi had a toime that was fit for th' Irish. Oi did iverything
+      'cept git drunk; there was nothin' to git drunk with. But afther a while I
+      ran across anither, wit' jest as red hair as I had. He was a foine man, av
+      coorse, an' all surrounded by blue guards. He took me into a room himself
+      an' begin askin' questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' I lied, sor. Av coorse, 'twas lucky thot Oi had me Scotch larnin' an'
+      caution to guide me; but whin Oi spoke, Oi wisely let th' Irishman do all
+      th' talkin'. An' th' great Bar liked me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Verily,' says he, most solemnly, 'thou art of th' royal Bars!' An' he
+      made me a high officer, he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he the Bar Senestro?&rdquo; asked Watson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay; 'twas a far better man&mdash;Senestro's brother, that died not long
+      after. When Oi saw th' Senestro, Oi had sinse enough to kape me mouth
+      shut. An' now Oi'm a high Bar&mdash;next to th' Senestro hisself! What's
+      more, sor, there's no one alive kens th' truth but yerself an' th' ould
+      doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a queer story, but in the light of all that had gone before,
+      wonderfully convincing. Watson began to see light breaking through the
+      darkness. &ldquo;Now there are two,&rdquo; the old lady at 288 Chatterton Place had
+      said to Jerome, when the detective came looking for the vanished
+      professor. Had she referred to Holcomb and MacPherson? Two had gone
+      through the Blind Spot, and two had come out&mdash;the Rhamda Avec and the
+      Nervina. &ldquo;Now there are two,&rdquo; she had said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me a little more about Holcomb, Pat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis a short story. Oi can't tell ye much, owin' to orders from the old
+      gent hisself. He came shortly after th' death of the first Bar, Senestro's
+      brother. Seems there was some rumpus aboot th' old Rhamda Avec, which same
+      Oi always kept away from&mdash;him as was goin' to prove th' spirits!
+      Annyhow, we was guardin' th' temple awaitin' th' spook as was promised.
+      An' thot's how we got th' ould doc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But th' Rhamdas niver saw him. Th' Senestro double-crossed 'em, an'
+      slipped th' doctor oop to th' Palace av Light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Palace of&mdash;what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Palace av light, sor. Tis th' home av th' Jarados. 'twas held always
+      holy by th' Thomahlians; no man dared go within miles av it; since the
+      Jarados was here, t'ousands of years ago, no one at all has been inside av
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the Senestro knew that th' doctor was th' real Jarados, at least he
+      t'ought so; an' he wasna afraid o' him. He's na coward, th' Senestro. He
+      put th' doctor in th' Jarados' home! Only th' Prophecy worries him at
+      all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Watson was touching firm ground. Things were beginning to link up&mdash;the
+      Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sor, we Bars have kept th' ould doctor prisoner there iver since he
+      come, wit' none save me to give him a wee bit word av comfort. But it
+      dinna hurt th' old gent. Whin he finds all them balls an' rainbows an'
+      eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything else; he's contint wit 'his
+      discovery. 'Tis th' wise head th' doctor has; an' Oi make no doobt he's
+      th' real Jarados.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of Chick's
+      coming from the beginning. He immediately called in MacPherson and gave
+      him some orders, or rather directions, which the Irishman could not
+      understand. He knew only that he was to go to the Temple of the Leaf and
+      there touch certain objects in a certain way; also, he was to arrange to
+      get near Chick, and give him a word of cheer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it dinna work as he said it, sor; he had expected to catch th'
+      Senestro. Instead, 'twas th' dog got th' Bar. A foine pup, sor; she saved
+      yer loife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's the dog now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's on th' Spot av Life, sor. She willna leave it. Tis a strange thing
+      to see how she clings to it. Th' Rhamdas only come near enough to feed
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus Chick learned that, as soon as he got well, he and MacPherson were to
+      seek the doctor, and help him to get away with the secrets he had found,
+      the truths behind the mystery of the Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' 'tis a glorious fight there'll be, lad. Th' Senestro's a game wan;
+      he'll not give up, an' he'll not let go th' doctor till he has to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was not unwelcome news to Chick. A battle was to his liking. It
+      reminded him of the automatic pistol which he still had in his pocket&mdash;the
+      gun he had not thought to use in his desperate struggle with the Bar
+      Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pat,&rdquo; said he, with a sudden inspriation, &ldquo;when you came through, did you
+      have a firearm?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      MacPherson reached into his pocket and silently produced a thirty-two
+      calibre pistol, of another make than Chick's but using the same
+      ammunition. From another pocket he drew out a package carefully bound with
+      thread. He unrolled the contents. It was an old clay pipe!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oi came through,&rdquo; he stated plaintively, &ldquo;wit' two guns; an' nary a bit
+      av powder for ayther!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick smiled. He searched his own pockets. First he handed over his extra
+      magazine full of cartridges, and then a full package of smoking tobacco.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wirra, wirra!&rdquo; shouted MacPherson. &ldquo;Faith, an' there's powder for both!&rdquo;
+       His hands shook as he hurried to cram the old pipe full of tobacco. The
+      cartridges could wait. He struck a light and gave a deep sigh of content
+      as he began to puff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLIII. &mdash; THE HOME OF THE JARADOS
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Chick had been grievously hurt in the contest with the Senestro, but
+      thanks to the Rhamdas he came round rapidly. It was a matter of less than
+      a week.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Things were coming to a climax; Chick needed no lynx's eye to see that the
+      die had been cast between the Bars and the Rhamdas. Soon the Senestro must
+      make a bold move, or else release the professor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick had not long to wait. It came one evening. Once again he found
+      himself in the June Bug, accompanied by the Geos, the Jan Lucar, and&mdash;the
+      little Aradna herself. Their departure was swift and secret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time Watson was not worried over height, or any other sensation of
+      flight. The doctor's safety alone was of moment. He said to the Rhamda:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are we alone? Where is the Bar MacPherson?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is somewhere near; we are not alone, my lord. Several other machines
+      are flying nearby also; they carry many of the Rhamdas and the crimson
+      guard of the queen. The MacPherson will arrive first. We are going
+      straight to the Palace of Light, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are we to storm the place?&rdquo; thinking of the fight MacPherson had
+      predicted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord. Many shall die; but it cannot be helped. We must free the
+      Jarados, although we commit sacrilege.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;the Senestro?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends, my lord. We know not just what may be done.&rdquo; He gave no
+      explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had climbed to a tremendous height. The indicator showed that they
+      were bearing east. The darkness was modified only by the faint glow from
+      that star-dusted sky. Looking down, Chick could see nothing whatever. His
+      companions kept silence; only the Aradna, sitting forward by the side of
+      Jan Lucar showed any perturbation. They climbed higher and higher still,
+      until it seemed that they must leave the Thomahlia altogether. Always the
+      course was eastward. At last the Jan said to the Geos:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are now over the Region of Carbon, sir. Shall I risk the light? His
+      lordship might like to see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Follow your own judgment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; exclaimed the Aradna; &ldquo;do it by all means! There is nothing so
+      wonderful as that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Jan touched a small lever. Instantly a shaft of light cut down through
+      the blackness. Far, far below it ended in a patch on the ground. Watson
+      eagerly followed its movements as it searched from side to side, seeking
+      he knew not what. And then&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a flash of inverted lightning, a flame of white fire, a
+      blinding, stabbing scintillation of a million coruscations. Watson clapped
+      a hand to his eyes, to cut off the sight. It was stunning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Carbon,&rdquo; answered the Geos, calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Carbon! You mean&mdash;diamond?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my lord. So it interests you? I did not know. Later you shall see it
+      under more favourable conditions.&rdquo; Then, to the Jan: &ldquo;Enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Once again they were in darkness. For some minutes silence was again the
+      rule. Watson watched the red dot moving across the indicator, noting its
+      approach to a three cornered figure on one edge. Suddenly there appeared
+      another dot; then another, and another. Some came from below, others from
+      above; presently there were a score moving in close formation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are all here,&rdquo; said the Jan to the Geos.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other nodded, and explained to Chick: &ldquo;It's the Rhamdas and the
+      Crimson guards. The MacPherson is just ahead. We shall arrive in three
+      minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And after a pause he stated that the ensuing combat would mark the first
+      spilling of blood between the Bars and the Rhamdas. At a pinch the
+      Senestro might even kill the Jarados, to gain his ends. &ldquo;His wish is his
+      only law, my lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The red dots began to descend toward the three-cornered figure. One minute
+      passed, and another; then one more, and the June Bug landed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With scarcely a sound the Lucar brought the craft to a full stop. In a
+      moment he was assisting the Aradna to alight. As for the Geos, he took
+      from the machine two objects, which he held out to the Aradna and to
+      Chick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put these on. The rest of us fight as we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They were cloaks, made of a soft, light, malleable glass, or something
+      like it. Watson asked what they were for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For a purpose known only to the Jarados, my lord. There are only two of
+      these robes. With them he left directions which indicated plainly they are
+      for your lordship and the Aradna.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wondering, Chick helped the Aradna don her garment and then slipped into
+      his own. Nevertheless, he pinned more faith in the automatic in his
+      pocket. He did not make use of the hood which was intended to cover his
+      head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; spoke the queen. She reached over and extended the hood till
+      it protected his skull. &ldquo;Please wear it that way, for my sake. Nothing
+      must happen to you now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick obeyed with only an inward demur. What puzzled him most was the
+      isolation. Seemingly they were quite alone; there was nothing, no one, to
+      oppose them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he had merely taken something for granted. He, being from the earth,
+      had assumed that strife meant noise. It was only when the Aradna caught
+      him by the arm, and whispered for him to listen, that he understood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was like a breeze, that sound. To be more precise, it was like the
+      heavy passage of breath, almost uninterrupted, coming from all about them.
+      And presently Chick caught a queer odour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he breathed in the Aradna's ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is death,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;Cannot you hear them&mdash;the deherers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not explain; but Watson knew that he was in the midst of a battle
+      which was fought with noiseless and terribly efficient weapons&mdash;so
+      efficient that there were no wounded to give voice to pain. Before he
+      could ask a question a familiar voice sounded out of the darkness at his
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is the Geos?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, Bar MacPherson,&rdquo; answered the Rhamda.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good! It is well you came, sir. We were discovered a few minutes ago;
+      already we have lost many men. Just give us the lights, so that we can get
+      at them! It is a waste of men, with the advantage all on their side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, lapsing into English for Chick's benefit: &ldquo;'Tis welcome ye are!
+      Ivery mon helps, how.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are these sounds? You say they are fighting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis the deherers ye hear, lad. They fight with silent guns. Don't let
+      'em hit ye, or ye'll be a pink pool in the twinklin' of yer eyelid. 'Tis
+      no joke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they more powerful than firearms?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dinna say, lad. But they're th' devil's own weapon for fightin'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick did not answer&mdash;he had heard a low command from the Geos. Next
+      instant the space before them was illuminated by clear white light, in the
+      form of a circle&mdash;bright as day. In the centre shimmered an object
+      like a mist of blue flame, a nimbus of dazzling, actinic lightning. There
+      was no sign of man or life, no suggestion of sound&mdash;nothing but the
+      nimbus, and the brilliant space about it. The whole phenomenon measured
+      perhaps three hundred feet across.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were in darkness. Chick took a step forward, but he was held back by
+      MacPherson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, lad; would ye be dyin' so soon? 'Tis fearful quick. See&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not finish. A red line of soldiers had rushed straight out of the
+      blackness into the circle of light. It seemed that they were charging the
+      nimbus. They were stooping now, discharging their queer weapons; about
+      three hundred of them&mdash;an inspiring sight. They charged in determined
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then&mdash;Watson blinked. The line disappeared; the thing was like a
+      miracle. It took time for Chick to realise that he was looking upon the
+      &ldquo;pink death&rdquo; MacPherson had warned him against&mdash;the work of the
+      deherers, whatever the word meant. For where had been a column of gallant
+      guards there was now only a broad stream of pink liquid trickling over the
+      ground. It was annihilation itself&mdash;too quick to be horrible&mdash;inexorable
+      and instantaneous. Chick involuntarily placed himself in front of the
+      Aradna.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The blue thing in the middle,&rdquo; observed the Irishman, coolly, &ldquo;is th'
+      Palace av Light; 'tis held by th' Senestro jest now. An' all we got to do
+      is get th' ould doc out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I see no building!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis there jest the same. Ye'll see it whin th' doctor gits time off his
+      rainbows. 'Tis absent-minded he gets when he's on a problem, which same is
+      mostly always, sor. We stay roight here till he gets ready to drop on th'
+      Senestro.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson waited. He knew enough now to cling to the shadow, there with
+      MacPherson, the Geos, and the Aradna. In the centre of the great
+      light-circle the nimbus of blue stood out like a vibrating haze, while all
+      about, in the darkness, could be heard the weird sound made by the passage
+      of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When will the Jarados act?&rdquo; inquired the Geos of the Irishman. But he got
+      no reply. MacPherson spoke to Watson: &ldquo;Get yer gun ready, lad; get yer gun
+      ready! Look&mdash;'tis th' ould boy himself, now! I wonder what the
+      Senestro thinks of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the nimbus had suddenly dissolved, and in its place there appeared one
+      of the quaintest, yet most beautiful buildings that Watson had ever seen.
+      It was a three-cornered structure, low-set, and of unspeakably dazzling
+      magnificence; a building carved and chiselled from solid carbon. Chick
+      momentarily forgot the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In front of it stood a line of Blue Guards, headed by the Senestro. Their
+      confusion showed that something altogether unexpected had happened. They
+      were ducking here and there, seemingly bewildered by the sudden vanishing
+      of that protecting blue dazzle. The Senestro was trying to restore order;
+      and in a moment he succeeded. He led the way toward a low, triangular
+      platform, at the entrance&mdash;a single white door&mdash;to the palace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Pat MacPherson's automatic flashed and barked. Next instant Watson was in
+      action. The Bar next to the Senestro staggered, then collapsed against his
+      chieftain. Another rolled against his feet, causing him to stumble; an act
+      that probably saved his life, for the platform in a second was covered
+      with writhing, bleeding, dying Bars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Senestro managed to reach the doorway. MacPherson cursed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come on!&rdquo; he yelled to Watson. &ldquo;Well git him alive!&rdquo; Watson remembered
+      little of that rush. There stood the great Bar at the doorway, surrounded
+      by his dying and panic-stricken men. The cloak given Chick by the Geos
+      impeded his progress; with a quick movement he threw it off and ran
+      unprotected alongside the Irishman. The Blue guards saw them coming; they
+      levelled their weapons. But before they could discharge them they met the
+      same fate as had the Reds. A tremor in the air, and they were gone,
+      leaving only a pink pool on the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Senestro alone remained untouched. He was about to open the white door;
+      for a second he posed, defiant and handsome. Then the great Bar ducked
+      swiftly and almost with the same motion dodged into the building. Chick
+      and Pat were right after him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Inside was darkness. Chick ran head on against the side wall; turning, he
+      bumped into another. The sudden transition from brilliance to blackness
+      was overwhelming. He stopped and felt about carefully&mdash;momentarily
+      blind. What if the Senestro found him now?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He called MacPherson's name. There was no reply. He tried to feel his way
+      along, finding the wall irregular, jagged, sharp cornered. But the way
+      must lead somewhere. He reached a turn in the passage; it was still too
+      dark for him to see anything. He proceeded more cautiously, wondering at
+      those craggy walls. And then&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick slapped his hands to his eyes. It was as if he had been shot into
+      the core of the sun&mdash;the obsidian darkness flashed into light&mdash;a
+      light beyond all enduring. Chick staggered, and cried in pain. And yet,
+      reason told him just what it was, just what had happened. It was the
+      carbon; he was in the heart of the diamond; the Senestro had led him on
+      and on, and then&mdash;had flashed some intense light upon the vast jewel.
+      Watson knew the terrible helplessness of the blind. His end had come!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so it seemed. Next instant someone came up to him&mdash;someone he
+      could hear if he could not see. It was the Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hail, Sir Phantom! Pardon my abrupt manner of welcome. I suppose you have
+      come for the Jarados?&rdquo; And he laughed, a laugh full of mockery and
+      triumph. &ldquo;Perhaps you think I intend to kill you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson said no word. He had been outwitted. He awaited the end. But the
+      Senestro saw fit to say, with an irony that told how sure he was:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However, I am opposed to killing in cold blood. Open your eyes, Sir
+      Phantom! I will give you time&mdash;a fair chance. What do you say&mdash;shall
+      we match weapon against weapon?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson slowly opened his eyes. The blinding light had dimmed to a soft
+      glow. They were in a sort of gallery whose length was uncertain; between
+      him and the outlet, about ten feet away, stood the confident, ever-smiling
+      Bar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You or I,&rdquo; said he, jauntily. &ldquo;Are you ready to try it? I have given you
+      a fair chance!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his dagger-like weapon, as though aiming it. At the same instant
+      Chick pulled the trigger from the hip, snap aim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gun was empty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another second, and Watson would have been like those spots of colour on
+      the ground outside. He breathed a prayer to his Maker. The Senestro's
+      weapon was in line with his throat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was not to be. There came a flash and a stunning report; the
+      deherer clattered against the wall, and the Senestro clutched a stinging
+      hand. He was staring in surprise at something behind Chick&mdash;something
+      that made him turn and dart out of sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Chick wheeled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Right behind him stood the familiar form of the Jan Lucar; and a few feet
+      beyond, a figure from which came a clear, cool, nonchalant voice;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would have killed that fellow, Chick, but he's too damned handsome. I'm
+      going to save him for a specimen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson peered closer. He gave a gasp, half of amazement, half of delight.
+      For the words were in English, and the voice&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Harry Wendel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLIV. &mdash; DR. HOLCOMB'S STORY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      If there was the least doubt in Chick's mind that this was really Harry,
+      it was dispelled by the sight of the person who the next moment stepped up
+      to his side. It was none other than the Nervina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry Wendel!&rdquo; gasped Watson. It was too good to be true!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surest thing you know, Chick. It's me, alive and kicking!&rdquo; as they
+      grabbed one another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Search me! Ask the lady; I'm just a creature of circumstance. I merely
+      act; she does all the thinking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Nervina smiled and nodded. Her eyes were just as wonderful as Chick
+      remembered them, full of elusiveness, of the moonbeam's light, of witchery
+      past understanding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she affirmed. &ldquo;You see, Mr. Watson, it is the will of the Prophet.
+      Harry is of the Chosen. We have come for the great Dr. Holcomb&mdash;for
+      the Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she led the way. Watson followed in silent wonder; behind him came the
+      Geos and the rest, quiet and reverent. The soft glow still held, so that
+      they seemed to be walking through the walls of cold fire. At the end of
+      the passage they came to a door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Nervina touched three unmarked spots on the walls. The door opened.
+      The queen stood aside, and motioned for Chick and Harry to enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a long room, pear-shaped, and fitted up like the most elaborate
+      sort of laboratory. And at the far end, seated in the midst of a strange
+      array of crystals, retorts and unfamiliar apparatus, was a man whom the
+      two instantly recognised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the missing professor, looking just as they remembered him from the
+      days when they sat in his class in Berkeley. There was the same trim
+      figure, the same healthy cheeks, pleasant eyes and close-cropped white
+      beard. Always there had been something imperturbable about the doctor&mdash;he
+      had that poise and equanimity which is ever the balance of sound judgment.
+      Neither Chick nor Harry expected any rush of emotion, and they were not
+      disappointed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Holcomb rose to his feet, revealing on the table before him a queer,
+      dancing light which he had been studying. He touched something; the light
+      vanished, and simultaneously there came an unnameable change in the
+      appearance of certain of those puzzling crystals. The doctor stepped
+      forward, hand extended, smiling; surely he did not look or act like a
+      prisoner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; spoke he; &ldquo;at last! Chick Watson and Harry Wendel! You're
+      very welcome. Was it a long journey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes twinkled in the old way. He didn't wait for their replies. He
+      went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have we solved the Blind Spot? It seems that my pupils never desert me.
+      Let me ask: have you solved the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We've solved nothing, professor. What we have come for is, first,
+      yourself; and second, for the secrets you have found. It is for us to ask&mdash;what
+      is the Blind Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were always a poor guesser, Mr. Wendel. Perhaps Chick, now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put me down as unprepared,&rdquo; answered Chick. &ldquo;I'm like Harry&mdash;I want
+      to know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix,&rdquo; laughed Holcomb. &ldquo;We, who
+      know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still more! It may be,
+      after all, that we know very little; even though we have solved the
+      problem.&rdquo; His eyes twinkled again, aggravatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us, then!&rdquo; from Harry, on impulse as always. &ldquo;What is the Blind
+      Spot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Holcomb shook his head. &ldquo;Not just now, Harry; we have company.&rdquo; The
+      Geos and the Jan had entered. &ldquo;Besides, I am not quite ready. There remain
+      several tangles to be unravelled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he shook hands with the Geos, he spoke in the Thomahlian tongue. &ldquo;You
+      are more than welcome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Rhamda bent low in reverence and awe. His voice was hushed. He spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Art thou the Jarados, my lord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aye,&rdquo; stated the doctor. &ldquo;I am he; I am the Jarados!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a stagger for both young men. Neither could reconcile the great
+      professor of his schooldays with this strange, philosophic prophet of the
+      occult Thomahlians. What was the connection? What was the fate that was
+      leading, urging, compelling it all?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Professor, you will pardon our eagerness. Both Harry and I have had
+      adventures, without understanding what it was all about. Can't you
+      explain? Where are we? And&mdash;why?&rdquo; And then:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your lecture on the Blind Spot! You promised it to us&mdash;can you
+      deliver it now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor smiled his acknowledgement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Part of it,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;enough to answer your questions to some extent.
+      Had I stayed in Berkeley I could have delivered it all, but&rdquo;&mdash;and he
+      laughed&mdash;&ldquo;I know a whole lot more, now; and, paradoxically, I know
+      far less! First let me speak to the Geos.&rdquo; He learned that the struggle
+      outside had terminated successfully for the Rhamda and his men. All was
+      quiet. The Senestro had made his escape in safety back to the Mahovisal.
+      The doctor ordered that he was not to be molested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Geos and the others left the room, escorting the Aradna, who was too
+      exhausted for further experiences. There remained with the doctor, Chick,
+      Harry, and the Nervina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will reduce that lecture to synopsis form,&rdquo; began the professor. &ldquo;I
+      shall tell you all that I know, up to this moment. First, however, let me
+      show you something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He indicated the table from which he had risen. Chief among the objects on
+      its top were fragments of minerals, some familiar, some strange. Above and
+      on all sides were the crystal globes or, at least, what Chick named as
+      such&mdash;erected upon as many tripods. One of these the professor moved
+      toward the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Simultaneously a tiny dot appeared on a small metal plate in the centre of
+      the table. At first almost invisible, it grew, after a minute or so, to a
+      definite bit of matter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor moved the tripod away. Nearby crystals, inside of which some
+      dull lights had leaped into momentary being, subsided into quiescence. And
+      the three observers looked again and again at the solid fragment of
+      material that had grown before their eyes on that table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something had been made out of nothing!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor picked it up and held it unconcernedly in his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can anybody tell me,&rdquo; asked he, &ldquo;what this is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer. The professor tossed the thing back on the table. It
+      gave forth a sharp, metallic sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are looking at ether,&rdquo; spoke he. &ldquo;It is the ether itself&mdash;nothing
+      else. You call it matter; others would call it iron; but those are merely
+      names. I call it ether in motion&mdash;materialised force-coherent
+      vibration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like everything else in the universe it answers to a law. It has its
+      reason&mdash;there is no such thing as chance. Do you follow? That
+      fragment is simply a principle, allowed to manifest itself through a
+      natural law!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try to follow me. All is out of the ether&mdash;all! Variety in matter is
+      simply a question of varying degrees of electronic activity, depending
+      upon a number of ratios. Life itself, as well as materiality and force,
+      comes out of the all-pervading ether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This object here,&rdquo; touching the crystal, &ldquo;is merely a conductor. It picks
+      up the ether and sends it through a set degree of vibrational activity.
+      Result? It makes iron!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you wish you may go back to our twentieth century for a parallel&mdash;by
+      which I mean, electricity. It is gathered crudely; but the time will come
+      when it will be picked up out of the air in precisely the same manner that
+      men pick hydrocarbons out of petroleum, or as I sift the desired quality
+      of ether through that globe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This, I am convinced, is one of the fundamental secrets of the Blind
+      Spot. Is there any question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wendel managed to put one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said, 'back in the twentieth century.' Is it a question of time
+      displacement, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose we forgo that point at present. You will note, however, that the
+      Thomahlian world is certainly far in advance of our own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Professor,&rdquo; asked Watson, &ldquo;is it the occult?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; brightening; &ldquo;now we are getting back to the old point. However,
+      what is the occult?&rdquo; He paused; then&mdash;&ldquo;Did it ever occur to you, that
+      the occult might prove to be the real world, proving that life we have
+      known to be merely a shadow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence greeted this. The professor went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me ask you: Are you living in a real world now, or an unreal one?&rdquo;
+       There was no response. &ldquo;It is, of course, a reality; just as truly as if
+      you were in San Francisco. So,&rdquo; very distinctly, &ldquo;perhaps it is merely a
+      question of viewpoint, as to which is the occult!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just what we want to know,&rdquo; from Harry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that,&rdquo; tossing up his hands, &ldquo;is exactly what I cannot tell you. I
+      have found out many things, but I cannot be sure. I left certainty in
+      Berkeley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Today I feel that there is some great fate, some unknown force that
+      defies analysis, defies all attempts at resolution&mdash;a force that is
+      driving me through the role of the Jarados. We are all a part of the
+      Prophecy!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must wait for the last day for our answer. That Prophecy must and will
+      be fulfilled. And on that day we shall have the key to the Blind Spot&mdash;we
+      shall know the where of the occult.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took a sip from a tumbler of the familiar green fluid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now that I have told you this much, I am going back to the beginning. I,
+      too, have had adventures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did I come to discover the Blind Spot?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was about one year prior to my last lecture at the university. At the
+      time I had been doing much psychic-research work, all of which you know.
+      And out of it I had adduced some peculiar theories. For example:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Undoubtedly there is such a thing as a spirit world. If all the mediums
+      but one were dishonest, and that one produced the results that couldn't be
+      explained away by psychology, then we must admit the existence of another
+      world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But reason tells us that there is nothing but reality; that if there were
+      a spirit world it must be just as real, just as substantial as our own.
+      Moreover&mdash;somewhere, somehow, here must be a definite point of
+      contact!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was approximately my theory. Of course I had no idea how close I had
+      come to a great truth. To some extent it was pure guesswork.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, one day Budge Kennedy brought me the blue stone. He told me its
+      history, and he maintained that it was lighter than air, which of course I
+      disbelieved until I took it out of the ring and saw for myself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went at once to the house at 288 Chatterton Place. There I found an old
+      lady who had lived in the house for some time. I asked to see the cellar
+      where the stone had been unearthed. Understand, I had no idea of the great
+      discovery I was about to make; I merely wanted to see. And I found
+      something almost as impossible as the blue stone itself-a green one,
+      heavier than any known mineral, answering to no known classification but
+      of an entirely new element. It was no larger than a pea, but of incredible
+      weight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Coming upstairs I found the old lady a bit perturbed. I had told her my
+      name; she had recognised me as well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Come with me,' she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With that she opened a door. She was very old and very uncertain; yet she
+      was scarcely afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'In there,&rdquo; she said, and pointed through the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I entered an ordinary room, furnished as a parlour. There was a sofa, a
+      table, a few chairs; little else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'What do you mean?' I asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The man!'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The man! What man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was shining.
+      He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a lad that's in need
+      of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa. He was tired, you see, and&mdash;I
+      once had a son of my own.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could feel the
+      pressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it! They took
+      him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when&mdash;they took
+      him! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and the moon&mdash;it
+      was gone. And then&mdash;' She looked up at me again and whispered: 'And
+      then I heard a bell&mdash;a very beautiful bell&mdash;a church bell, sir?
+      But you know, don't you? You are the great Dr. Holcomb. That's why you
+      went into the cellar, wasn't it? Because you know!'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good enough to
+      leave me to myself?'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She closed the door after her. I had the green stone in my hand; it was
+      very heavy, and I placed it on one of the chairs. The blue stone I still
+      held. At the moment I hadn't the least notion of what was about to happen;
+      it was all accident, from beginning to end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All of a sudden the room disappeared! That is, the side wall; I was not
+      looking at the dingy old wallpaper, but out through and into an immense
+      building, dim, vast and immeasurable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Directly in front of me was a white substance like a stone of snow. Upon
+      this substance was seated a man, about my own age, as nearly as I could
+      make out. He looked up just as I noted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our recognition was mutual. Immediately he made a sign with one hand. And
+      at once I took a step forward; I thought he had motioned. It was all so
+      real and natural. Though his features were dim he could not have been more
+      than ten feet distant. But, at that very instant, when I made that one
+      step, the whole thing vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was still in the room at Chatterton Place!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what started it all. Had this occurred to any one else in the
+      world I should have labelled it an unaccountable illusion. But it had
+      happened to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had my theory; between the spiritual and the material there must be a
+      point of contact. And&mdash;I had found it! I had discovered the road to
+      the Indies, to the Occult, to all that other men call unknowable. And I
+      called it&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLV. &mdash; THE ARADNA
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Thus had the professor got into actual touch with the occult&mdash;by
+      sheer accident. Up to that time it had been only a hypothesis; now it was
+      a fact. Next step was to open up direct communication.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was difficult. To begin with, I worked to repeat the phenomena I had
+      seen, getting some haphazard results from the start. My purpose throughout
+      was to exchange intelligent comment with the individual I had beheld on
+      that snow-stone within the Spot; and in the end I succeeded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He gave me fairly explicit warning as to when the Blind Spot should open,
+      not only to the eye, but in its entirety, as it had done for the young man
+      of whom the old lady had told me. We agreed through signs that he would
+      come through first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Understand, up to the instant of his actual arrival, I didn't know just
+      what he was like. I had to be content with his sign-talk, by which he
+      assured me he was a real man, material, of life and the living.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I made my announcement. You know most of what followed. The Rhamda came
+      to Berkeley; together we returned to Chatterton Place, for it was
+      imperative that we hold the Spot open or at least maintain the phenomenon
+      at such a point that we could reopen it at will. Both of us were guessing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Neither of us knew, at the time, just how long the Rhamda could endure
+      our atmosphere. He had risked his life to come through; it was no more
+      than fair that I should accede to his caution and insure him a safe return
+      to his own world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But things went wrong. It was ignorance as much as accident. At
+      Chatterton Place I was caught in the Blind Spot, and without a particle of
+      preparation was tossed into the Thomahlia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I came through, the Nervina went out. Thus I found myself in this
+      strange place with no one to guide me. And unfortunately, or rather,
+      fortunately, I fell into the hands of the Bar Senestro.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, for all that he is a sceptic, the Senestro is a brave man; and like
+      many another unbeliever, he has a sense of humour. My coming had been
+      promised by Avec; so he knew that somehow I was a part of the Prophecy&mdash;the
+      prophecy which, for reasons of his own, he did not want fulfilled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he isolated me here in the house of the Jarados. A bold sort of humor,
+      I call it&mdash;to defy the Prophecy in the very spot where it was
+      written!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it was fortunate. I was in the house of the old prophet, with its
+      stores of wisdom, secrets, raw elements and means for applying the laws of
+      nature. All that I hitherto had only guessed at, I now had at my disposal:
+      libraries, laboratories, everything. I was a recluse with no interruptions
+      and perfect facility for study.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First of all I went into their philosophy. Then into their science, and
+      afterwards into their history. Whereupon I made a rather startling
+      discovery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apparently I AM THE JARADOS.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my coming had been foretold almost to the hour. As I went on with the
+      research I found many other points that seemed familiar. Plainly there was
+      something that had led me into the Spot; and most certainly it was not
+      mere chance. I became convinced that not merely my own destiny, but a
+      higher, a transcendental fate was at stake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the course of time I became certain of this. Meanwhile I mastered most
+      of the secrets of this palace&mdash;the wisdom of the ancient Jarados.
+      Though a prisoner, I was the happiest of men&mdash;which I still remain.
+      The Bars kept close watch over me, constantly changing their guard. And it
+      was on one of those occasions that I found MacPherson.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, after MacPherson's coming I was pretty much my own master. I
+      induced the Senestro to allow MacPherson to remain as a constant
+      bodyguard. But I never told Pat what was what, except that some day we
+      should extricate ourselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may wonder why I did not open the Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There were several reasons: First, in the nature of the phenomenon it
+      must be opened only on the earth side, except on rare occasions when
+      certain conditions are peculiarly favourable. That's why the Rhamda Avec
+      could not do it alone; I know now that I should have imparted to him
+      certain technicalities. I possessed two of the keys then; now, I know
+      there are three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I have learned that each of these is a sinister thing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The blue stone, for instance, is life, and it is male. Rather a sweeping
+      and ambiguous statement; but you will comprehend it in the end. Were a man
+      to wear it it would kill him, in time; but a woman can wear it with
+      impunity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you will appreciate that statement better if you note what I have
+      just done through the medium of that crystal. The blue gem is an inductor
+      of the ether; in a sense, it is one of the anchors of the Spot of Life, or
+      the Blind Spot&mdash;whatever we want to call it&mdash;the Spot of
+      Contact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The other two particles&mdash;the red and the green one&mdash;are
+      respectively the Soul and the Material. Or, let us say, the etheric
+      embryos of these essentials.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The three stones constitute an eternal trinity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for the substance of the Spot itself, that I cannot tell, just yet.
+      But I do know that the whole truth will come out clear in the fulfilment
+      of the Prophecy. I am convinced that it has translated Watson, and now
+      Harry Wendel and the Nervina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you control it?&rdquo; asked Chick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To a limited extent. I have been able to watch you ever since your
+      coming. You did not know about Harry, but I saw him come&mdash;in the arms
+      of the Nervina.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Nervina nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is so. I knew the Senestro. I was afraid that Harry would fall into
+      his hands. I had previously endeavoured to have him give the jewel to
+      Charlotte Fenton. I didn't trust the great Bar&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harry interrupted, &ldquo;Only because of her distrust of the Senestro did she
+      decide to come through the Blind Spot with me. She knew what to do. As
+      soon as we got here, she bundled me off, privately nursed me back to
+      health if not strength, and when the time came rushed me up here at the
+      last second to be in at the finish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson thought of the dog, Queen. She also had come through just in time
+      to save his life. Did Harry know anything about her? When Wendel had
+      related what he knew, Chick commented:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's almighty strange, Harry. Everything works out to fit in exactly with
+      that confounded Prophecy. Perhaps that accounts for your affinity for the
+      Nervina; it is something beyond your control, or hers. We'll have to wait
+      and see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full of
+      Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself, was now
+      issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the sixteen days, now
+      very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas constantly alluded to as
+      &ldquo;the Day of Judgment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Senestro went unmolested. Returning to the Mahovisal, he worked now to
+      further the truths of the Prophecy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming from
+      the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims' aircraft kept the
+      air above the city constantly alive. There were days such as no man had
+      ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to composure, gave evidence of the
+      strain. The atmosphere was tense, charged with expectancy and hope. A
+      whole world was coming to what it conceived as its judgment, and its end.
+      And&mdash;the Spot of Life was the Blind Spot!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the doctor summoned the two young men. It was night, and the June
+      Bug was waiting. This time the Geos himself was at the controls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are going to the Mahovisal,&rdquo; spoke the doctor&mdash;&ldquo;to the Temple of
+      the Bell and Leaf. There is still something I must know before the
+      Judgment.&rdquo; He was speaking English. &ldquo;If we can bring the Prophecy to pass
+      just so far, and no farther, we shall be able to extricate ourselves
+      nicely. Anyway, I think we shall not return to the Palace of Light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held a black leather case in his hand. He touched it with a finger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If this little case and its contents get through the Blind Spot it will
+      advance civilisation&mdash;our civilisation&mdash;about a thousand-fold.
+      So remember: Whatever happens to me, be sure and remember this case! It
+      must go through the Spot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said no more, but took his seat beside the Geos. The young men took the
+      rear seats. In a short time they had crossed the great range of mountains
+      and were hovering over the Mahovisal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no sound. Though the city was packed with untold millions, the
+      tension was such that scarcely a murmur came out of the metropolis. The
+      air was magnetic, charged, strained close to the breaking point; above
+      all, the reverence for the Last Day, and the hope, rising, accumulating,
+      to the final supreme moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the Sixteenth Day was now only forty-eight hours removed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Both Chick and Harry realised that their lives were at stake; the doctor
+      had made that clear. In the last minute, in the final crisis, they must
+      crowd their way through the Blind Spot. Only the professor knew how it was
+      to be done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the temple they found the Nervina and the Aradna waiting. The Jan Lucar
+      was with them. The Geos had secured entrance by a side door. From it they
+      could look out, themselves unobserved, over the entire building and upon
+      the Spot of Life. The place was packed&mdash;thousands upon thousands of
+      people, standing in silent awe and worship, one and all gazing toward the
+      all-important Spot. There was no sound save the whisper of multitudinous
+      breathing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Said Harry to Chick:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see Queen up there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harry circled the group, and bounded up the great stairs. In a moment he
+      was patting his dog's head. She looked up and wagged her tail to show her
+      pleasure. But she was not effusive. Somehow she wasn't just like his old
+      shepherd. She glanced at him, and then out at the concourse below, and
+      lolled her tongue expectantly. Then she settled back into her place and
+      resumed watch&mdash;exactly as any of her kind would have held guard over
+      a band of sheep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dog was serious. Afterward, Wendel said he had a dim notion that she
+      was no longer a dog at all, but a mere instrument in the hand of Fate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter, old girl?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Don't you like 'em?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For answer she gave a low whine. She looked up again, and out into the
+      throng; she repeated the whine, with a little whimper at the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Harry returned to the others. Nothing was said of what he had done. At
+      once the Geos led the group through a small, half-hidden door, beyond
+      which was a narrow, winding stairway of chocolate-coloured stone. The Geos
+      halted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dost wish the building emptied, O Jarados?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. When we come back from under the Spot of Life, we should have the
+      place to ourselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Accompanied by the two queens the Rhamda returned to the main body of the
+      temple. Dr. Holcomb, Harry and Chick were left to themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor took out a notebook. In it was traced a map, or chart,
+      together with several notations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The three of us,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;are going to take a look at the under side of
+      the Blind Spot. This stairway leads into a secret chamber inside the
+      foundations of the great stair; and according to this data I found in the
+      palace, together with some calculations of my own, we ought to find some
+      of the secrets of the Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He led the way up the steps. At the top of the flight they came to a
+      blank, blue wall. There was no sign of a door, but in the front of the
+      wall stood a low platform, in the centre of which was set a strange, red
+      stone. The professor consulted his chart, then opened his black case. From
+      it he took another stone, red like the other, but not so intense. This he
+      touched to the first, and waited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Inside a minute a light sprang up from the contact. Immediately Harry and
+      Chick beheld something they had not seen on the wall&mdash;a knob, or
+      button. The doctor pulled sharply on it. Instantly a door opened in the
+      wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed into another room. It was not a large place&mdash;about thirty
+      feet across, perhaps, stone-walled and with a low ceiling. From all sides
+      a soft, intrinsic glow was given off. There were no furnishings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in the centre of the ceiling, occupying almost all the space overhead,
+      a snow-white substance hung as if suspended. Were it not for its colour
+      and its size, it might have been likened to an immense, horizontal
+      grindstone hung in mid-air, with apparently nothing to hold it there.
+      Around its side they could make out a narrow gap between it and the
+      ceiling. And directly along its lower edge was a series of small, fiery
+      jewels inset, and of the order and colour of the sign of the Jarados&mdash;red,
+      blue and green, alternating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor produced an electric torch and held it up to show that the
+      gap between the stone and the ceiling was unbroken at any point. Then he
+      counted the jewels on the lower edge. Chick made out twenty-four. Three
+      were missing from their sockets&mdash;all told, then, there should have
+      been twenty-seven.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor noted the positions of the three empty sockets and, drawing a
+      tapeline from his pocket, proceeded to measure the distances from each of
+      the three&mdash;they were widely separated round the circle&mdash;from
+      each other. Then he turned to Chick and Harry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know where we are?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Under the Spot of Life,&rdquo; it was easy to answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in San Francisco!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in&mdash;in&mdash;&rdquo; Chick hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Exactly. This is 288 Chatterton Place&mdash;the house of the Blind
+      Spot.&rdquo; He paused for them to digest this. Then, &ldquo;Harry&mdash;did you say
+      Hobart Fenton was with you on that last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart and his sister, Charlotte. I remember their coming at the last
+      minute. They were too late, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Harry, the chances are that Hobart is not more than twenty feet
+      away at the present moment. Charlotte may be sitting right there&rdquo;&mdash;pointing
+      to a spot at Harry's side&mdash;&ldquo;this very instant. And there may be many
+      others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt they are working hard to solve the mystery. Unfortunately the
+      best they can do is to guess. We hold the key. That is&mdash;I should
+      correct that statement&mdash;we hold the knowledge, and they hold the
+      keys.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The keys?&rdquo; Harry wanted to know more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor pointed to the three empty sockets in the great white stone
+      above their heads. &ldquo;These three missing stones are the keys. Until they
+      are reset we cannot control the Spot. I had found two of them before I
+      came through. I take it that both of you remember the blue one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; agreed Chick, &ldquo;that neither of us is ever likely to forget it!
+      Eh, Harry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor smiled. He was holding the light up to the snow-stone, at a
+      spot that would have been the point of intersection had lines been drawn
+      from the three missing gems, and the resulting triangle centred. He held
+      his hand up to the substance. It was slightly rough at that point, as
+      though it had been frozen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he ran his fingers across the surrounding surface.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I thought so! That helps considerably. Chick&mdash;put
+      your hand up here. What do you feel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rough,&rdquo; said Chick, feeling the intersection point. &ldquo;Slightly so, but
+      cold and&mdash;and magnetic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now feel here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cool and magnetic, doctor; but smooth. What does it prove?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's see; do you understand the term 'electrolysis'? Good. Well, there
+      should be another clue&mdash;not similar, but supplementary, or rather,
+      complementary&mdash;on the earth side. Perhaps one of you found it while
+      you lived in that house.&rdquo; The professor eyed both men anxiously. &ldquo;Did
+      either of you find a stain, or anything of that sort, on the walls,
+      ceiling, or floor of any room there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both shook their heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there ought to be,&rdquo; frowned the doctor. &ldquo;I am positive that, should
+      we return now, we could locate some such phenomenon. From this side it is
+      very easy to account for; it's simply the disintegrating effect of the
+      current, constantly impinging at the point of contact or the intersection.
+      Having acted on this side, it must have left some mark on the other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson was still running his hand over the snow-stone. Once before, when
+      he had stood barefooted in the contest with the Senestro, he had noted its
+      cold magnetism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is this substance, professor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That, I have not been able to discover. I would call it neutral element,
+      for want of a more exact term; something that touches both aspects of the
+      spectrum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Both aspects of the spectrum?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; as nearly as the limitations of my vocabulary will permit. If you
+      recall, I showed you a simple experiment the other day in the palace. By
+      means of an inductor I drew out the iron principle from the ether and
+      built up the metal. Only it was not precisely iron but its Thomahlian
+      equivalent. Had you been on the earth side you would have seen nothing at
+      all, not even myself. I was on the wrong aspect of the spectrum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Also, you see here the Jaradic colours&mdash;the crimson, green and blue&mdash;the
+      shades between, the iridescence and the shadows. Had you been on the other
+      side you wouldn't have seen one of them; they are not precisely our own
+      colours, but their equivalents on this side of the Spot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the final analysis, as I said before, it gets down to ether, to speed
+      and vibration&mdash;and still at last to the perceptive limitations of our
+      own earthly five senses. Just stop and consider how limited we are! Only
+      five senses&mdash;why, even insects have six. Then consider that all
+      matter, when we get to the bottom of it, is differentiated and condensed
+      ether, focused into various mathematical arrangements, as numberless as
+      the particles of the universe. Of these our five senses pick out a very
+      small proportion indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is one way to account for the Blind Spot. It may be merely another
+      phase of the spectrum&mdash;not simply the unexplored regions of the
+      infra-red or the ultra-violet, but a region co-existent with what we
+      normally apprehend, and making itself manifest through apertures in what
+      we, with our extremely limited sense-grasp, think to be a continuous
+      spectrum. I throw out the idea mainly as a suggestion. It is not
+      necessarily the true explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us go a bit farther. Remember, we are still upon the earth. And that
+      we are still in San Francisco, although all the while we are also in the
+      Mahovisal. This is 288 Chatterton Place, and at the same time it is the
+      Temple of the Bell. It might be a hundred or a thousand other places just
+      as well, too, if my hypothesis is correct; which we shall see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, what does this mean? Simply this, gentlemen, that we five-sensed
+      people have failed to grasp the true meaning of the word 'Infinity.' We
+      look out toward the stars, fancying that only in unlimited space can we
+      find the infinite. We little suspect we ourselves are infinity! It is only
+      our five senses that make us finite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As soon as we grasp this the so-called spiritual realm becomes a very
+      substantial fact. We begin to apprehend the occult. Our five-sensed world
+      is merely a highly specialized phase of infinity. Material or spiritual&mdash;it
+      is all the same. That's why we look on the Thomahlians as occult, and why
+      they consider us in the same light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is strictly a question of sense perception and limitations, which can
+      be covered by the word, 'viewpoint.' Viewpoint&mdash;that is all it
+      amounts to.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no such thing as unreality; but there is most certainly such a
+      thing as relativity, and all life is real.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I knew nothing of this until the discovery of the Blind Spot.
+      It will, I think, prove to be one of the greatest events in history. It
+      will silence the sceptics, and form a bulwark for all religion. And it
+      will make us all appreciate our Creator the more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor stopped. For some moments there was silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are we to do now?&rdquo; asked Harry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the professor chose not to answer. With his tape he began taking a
+      fresh series of measurements, with reference to the empty sockets and one
+      particularly brilliant red gem, which seemed to be &ldquo;number one&rdquo; in the
+      circle. From time to time the doctor jotted down the results and made
+      short calculations. Presently he said: &ldquo;That ought to be enough. Now
+      suppose we&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that instant something happened. Harry Wendel caught him by the
+      shoulder. He pointed to the suspended stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was moving!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was revolving, almost imperceptibly, like some vast wheel turning on
+      its axis. So slowly did it rotate, the motion would have escaped attention
+      were it not for the gems and their brilliance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly it came to a stop, short and quick, as though it had dropped into
+      a notch. And from above they heard the deep, solemn clang of the temple
+      bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; asked Harry, startled. &ldquo;Who moved the stone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can it be,&rdquo; flashed Chick, &ldquo;that Hobart Fenton has found the keys?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That remains to be seen!&rdquo; from the doctor. &ldquo;Come&mdash;we must find out
+      what has happened!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Within a minute they knew. As they came out of the private door on the now
+      emptied floor of the great temple, they saw the senior queen, the Nervina,
+      coming down the great stairway from the Spot of Life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; called Harry, apprehensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Aradna!&rdquo; she replied. Her voice was curiously strained. &ldquo;Something
+      happened, and&mdash;she has fallen through the Spot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLVI. &mdash; OUT OF THE OCCULT
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      &ldquo;HOW DID IT HAPPEN?&rdquo;
+     </h3>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I scarcely know. We went up to play with the dog. It was unwilling to
+      leave the place, and Aradna teasingly tried to push her off on to the
+      steps. She succeeded, but&mdash;well, it was all over that quick. The
+      Aradna was gone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Spot had by this time lost a good deal of its terror. Knowing what
+      was on the other side, and who, made a great difference. As the doctor
+      said later in a private consultation with Chick and Harry:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not so bad. That is, if Hobart Fenton is at work there. I think he
+      is. Really, I only regret that we didn't know of this beforehand; we could
+      have sent a message through to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the professor went on to explain what he meant. At the time he spoke,
+      it was twenty-four hours after the Aradna's going; another twenty-four
+      hours would see the evening of the Last Day&mdash;the sixteenth of the
+      sacred Days of Life&mdash;what the Rhamdas alluded to as &ldquo;the Day of
+      Judgment.&rdquo; And the Mahovisal was a seething mass of humanity, all bent
+      upon seeing the fulfillment of their highest hopes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bear in mind that if the Spot should not open at the last moment, you and
+      I are done for. We will be self-condemned 'False Ones'; our lives will not
+      last one minute after midnight tomorrow night if we fail to get through!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That Prophecy means EVERYTHING to the Thomahlians. There was a time when
+      they accepted it on faith; now it is an intellectual conviction with every
+      last one of them. And one and all look forward to a new and glorious life
+      beyond the Spot&mdash;in the occult world&mdash;our world!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, the ticklish part of the job will be to open the Spot just long
+      enough to permit us to get through, yet prevent the whole Prophecy from
+      coming to pass. We've got to get through, together with that black case of
+      mine, and then shut the door in the face of all Thomahlia!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nothing more was said on the subject until late the following afternoon,
+      as the doctor, Harry, and Chick sat down to a light meal. They ate much as
+      if nothing whatever was in the wind. From where they sat, in one part of a
+      wing of the temple, they could look out into the crowded streets, in which
+      were packed untold numbers of pilgrims, all pressing towards the great
+      square plaza in front of the temple. No guards were to be seen; the
+      solemnity of the occasion was sufficient to keep order. But the terrific
+      potentiality of that semi-fanatical host did not cause the doctor's voice
+      to change one iota.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no telling what may happen,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;For my own part I shall
+      not venture near the Spot of Life until just at the end. I shall remain in
+      the chamber underneath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you two ought to show yourselves immediately after sundown. Certain
+      ancient writings indicate it. You, and the Nervina, will have to mount the
+      stair to the Spot, and remain in sight until midnight&mdash;until the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So we must be prepared for accidents.&rdquo; He took some papers from his
+      pocket, and selected two, and gave one to each of his pupils. &ldquo;Here are
+      the details of what must be done. In case only one of us gets through, it
+      will be enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;how can these be of any use, on such short notice?&rdquo; Harry
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cudgel your brains a bit, gentlemen,&rdquo; he chided good-humouredly. &ldquo;You
+      will soon see my drift. This is one of those occasions when the psychic
+      elements involved are such that, without doubt, it were best if you
+      reacted naturally to whatever may happen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you will note that I have made a drawing of the Blind Spot region;
+      also certain calculations which will explain themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Moreover, I have written out the combination to my laboratory safe in my
+      house in Berkeley. The green stone is there. Bertha will help, as soon as
+      she understands that it is my wish; no explanation will be needed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may leave the rest to me, young gentlemen. Act as through you had no
+      notion that I was down below the Spot. I shall be merely experimenting a
+      bit with that circle of jewels, to see if the phenomena which affected the
+      Aradna cannot be repeated. I fancy it was not mere accident, but rather
+      the working of a 'period.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said no more about this, except to comment that he hoped to get into
+      direct communication with Hobart Fenton before midnight should arrive.
+      However, he did say, in an irrelevant sort of manner:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, by the way&mdash;do either of you happen to recall which direction
+      the house at Chatterton Place faces?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;North,&rdquo; replied Harry and Chick, almost in the same breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah yes. Well, the temple faces south. Can you remember that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They thought they could. The rest of the meal was eaten without any
+      discussion. Just as they arose, however, the doctor observed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be that Hobart Fenton has got to come through. I wish I knew more
+      about his mentality; it's largely a question of psychic influence&mdash;the
+      combined, resultant force of the three material gems, and the three
+      degrees of psychic vibration as put forth by him and you two. We shall
+      see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something happened today&mdash;the Geos told me about it&mdash;which may
+      link up Hobart very definitely. It was about one o'clock when one of the
+      temple pheasants began to behave very queerly up on the great stair. It
+      had been walking around on the snow-stone, and flying a bit; then it
+      started to hop down the steps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About sixteen steps down, Geos says the pheasant stopped and began to
+      flutter frantically, as though some unseen person were holding it.
+      Suddenly it vanished, and as suddenly reappeared again. It flew off,
+      unharmed. I can't quite account for it, but&mdash;well, we'll see!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the wing. There
+      they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina and her retinue
+      arrived. Without delay a start was made for the great black stairway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor alone remained behind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the Nervina and
+      the rest access to the foot of the steps. Reaching that point she paused
+      for a look around.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple had not
+      yet been turned on. Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung portentously,
+      even more ominous than in the brighter light. The huge waterspout columns,
+      the terrific size of the auditorium, were none the less impressive for the
+      incalculable horde that filled every bit of floor space. At the front of
+      the building the archway gave a glimpse of the vastly greater throng
+      waiting outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme expectation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to top,
+      with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the three chairs
+      that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The green one had been
+      brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the foot of
+      the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this chair sat the Bar Senestro. Deployed about him, at a respectful
+      distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds in number. Behind
+      the Bars, separating them from the crowds at their backs, were grouped the
+      crimson and blue guardsmen. Among them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar and
+      the MacPherson, but Chick could locate neither.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Nervina, taking Harry's arm, ascended the steps. Chick followed, with
+      the Rhamda Geos at his side. At the top of the flight the Nervina was
+      escorted to one of the chairs, while Chick placed the Geos in the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It left the two Californians on their feet, to move around to whatever
+      extent seemed commensurate with dignity. Chick drew Harry aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you suppose,&rdquo; said Chick, indicating the handsome, confident
+      figure in the chair at the base of the stairs&mdash;&ldquo;what do you suppose
+      friend Senestro is thinking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harry frowned. &ldquo;You know him better than I do. You don't think he has
+      reformed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not on your life; not the Bar. He's merely adjusted his plans to the new
+      situation. He sees that the Prophecy is likely to be fulfilled; so, he
+      counts on being the first to get through, after the Nervina. Then, whether
+      the rest of the Thomahlia follows or not&mdash;he calls himself the
+      divinely appointed leader now, I understand&mdash;he will get through and
+      marry the two Queens anyhow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it was because the crowd was so terrifically large. Or, there may
+      have been something in the destiny of things that would not permit the
+      chief actors to feel nervous. Certain it is that neither of the two men
+      experienced the least stage fright. Had they been on display before a
+      crowd one-tenth the size, anywhere else, both would have been ill at ease.
+      This was different&mdash;enormously so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No longer was there any circulation in the crowd. People remained in their
+      places now, just as they expected the end to find them. Chick and Harry
+      marvelled at their composure, strangely in contrast with the ceaseless
+      activities of the temple pheasants darting everywhere overhead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly Harry remarked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've got an idea, Chick! It's this: How does the professor expect to send
+      a message to Hobart?&rdquo; Chick could not guess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But already Harry had taken his sheet of instructions from his pocket, and
+      was rolling it into a compact pellet. Then he went to Queen, and with a
+      ribbon borrowed from the Nervina, tied the message tightly to the dog's
+      collar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart will be certain to see it,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I wonder if the doctor's
+      figured it out yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's playing with a tremendous force,&rdquo; observed Chick, thoughtfully. He
+      reached out and touched the snow-stone with his foot, just as he had done
+      before, and fancied that he could feel that electric thrill even through
+      the leather of his shoes. &ldquo;Still, it's worth any risk he may be taking
+      down in that chamber. If only he could send Queen through! Hobart&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He never finished the sentence. He staggered, thrown off his balance by
+      reason of the fact that he had been resting the weight of one foot on the
+      stone and&mdash;it moved!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moved&mdash;shifted about its axis, just as it had done forty-eight hours
+      previously, when the Aradna had dropped through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Chick had only a flash of a second for a glimpse of the startled faces
+      of Harry, the Nervina and the Geos, the huge multitude below the stair,
+      Queen on the other side, and the fateful Prophecy on the walls above him,
+      before&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A figure came into existence at his side. It was that of a powerfully
+      built man, on whose wrists were curious red circles. And Chick shouted in
+      a great voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hobart!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then came blackness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLVII. &mdash; THE LAST LEAF
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Watson's story was now completed. During the entire recital his auditors
+      had spoken scarcely a word. It had been marvellous&mdash;almost a
+      revelation. With the possible exception of Sir Henry Hodges, not one had
+      expected that it would measure up to this. For the whole thing backed up
+      Holcomb's original proposition:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Occult is concrete.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Certainly, if what Watson had told them was true, then Infinity had been
+      squared by itself. Not only was there an infinity that we might look up to
+      through the stars, but there was another just as great, co-existent, here
+      upon the earth. The occult became not only possible, but unlimited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next few minutes would prove whether or not he had told the truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was now close to midnight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Jerome and General Hume had returned from Berkeley. Their quest had been
+      successful; Watson now had the missing green stone. A number of soldiers
+      were stationed about the house. Watson noted these men when he had
+      finished his account, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good. We may need them, although I hope not. Fortunately the Spot is
+      small, and a few of us can hold it against a good many. What we must do is
+      to extricate our friends and close it. Afterward we may have time for more
+      leisurely investigation. But we must remember, above all things, that
+      black case of Professor Holcomb's! It holds the secrets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now I must ask you all to step out of this room. This library, you know,
+      is the Blind Spot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He directed them to take positions along the balustrade of the stairway,
+      out in the hall&mdash;through the wide archway, where they could have a
+      clear view, yet be safe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a curious test. With nothing but his mathematics and his drawing to
+      go by, Watson was about to set the three stones in their invisible
+      sockets. He spread the map out carefully, likewise his calculations; they
+      gave him, on this floor, the precise positions that he charted on the
+      earth of the cellar. A glance toward the front of the house&mdash;north&mdash;then
+      a little measuring, three chalk-marks on the carpet, and he was ready for
+      the final move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the fateful ring and with a penknife pried up the prongs that held
+      the stone. As it popped out he caught it with one hand. Then he looked at
+      the row of wondering faces along the stair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it will work,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But, remember&mdash;don't come near! I
+      shall get out as best I can myself; don't try to save me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he held the jewel on the first of the three chalk-marks on the
+      circumference of the great circle. He held it tight against the carpet and
+      then let go. Up it flashed about one foot&mdash;and disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no sound. Next Watson took the red stone. With it, the process
+      was inverted. Instead of holding it to the floor he raised it as high as
+      he could reach, directly above the second mark. Then he let it drop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It did not reach the floor. It fell a little more than halfway, and
+      vanished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The third stone, the green one, was still remaining. Watson took it to the
+      third and final mark on the circle, taking care to keep outside the
+      circumference that marked the Spot. This mark was directly in front of the
+      archway. He turned to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Watch carefully,&rdquo; he spoke. &ldquo;I do not know what has transpired in the
+      temple during the past few hours. Be ready for ANYTHING. All of you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He dropped the stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the same motion he dodged out into the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though there was no sound there was something that every one felt&mdash;a
+      sibilant undertone and cold vibration&mdash;a tense flash of magnetism.
+      Then the dot of blue&mdash;a string of incandescence; just as had been
+      spoken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Blind Spot was opening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Watson silently warned the others to remain where they were and himself
+      crowded back against the stair. And as he did so, someone came noiselessly
+      down the steps from the floor above, passed unnoticed behind the watchers
+      and thence across into the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a slender, frail figure in white&mdash;the Aradna, walking like one
+      in the grip of a higher will. Before they could make a move she had
+      stepped into the Blind Spot, under the dot of blue, and into a string of
+      light. And then&mdash;she was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as swift as a guess. It was inexorable and unseen; and being
+      unseen, close akin to terror. The group watched and waited, scarcely
+      breathing. What would happen next?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There came a sudden, jarring click&mdash;like the tapping of iron. And
+      next instant&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Spot opened to human sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The library at 288 Chatterton Place was gone. Instead, the people on the
+      stairs were gazing down from the Spot of Life, straight into the colossal
+      Temple of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was as Chick had described it&mdash;immense&mdash;beyond conception.
+      Through the great doors and out into the plaza beyond was gathered all
+      Thomahlia, reverent, like those waiting for the crack of doom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Above the horde, high on the opposite wall, stood out the monster Clover
+      Leaf of the Jarados; three-coloured&mdash;blazing like liquid fire; it was
+      ominous with real life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the whole concourse rippled with commotion. Arms were
+      uplifted; one and all pointed towards the dais. They, too were looking
+      through the Spot. Then the multitude began to move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It heaved and surged and rolled toward the centre. The guards were pressed
+      in upon the Bars, the Bars upon the Rhamda-lined stair. There was no
+      resisting that flood of humanity. On and up it came, sweeping everything
+      before it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Directly in the foreground lay the snow-stone. On its centre stood the dog
+      Queen, crouching, waiting, bristling. By her side Harry Wendel crouched on
+      one knee, as if awaiting the signal. Behind him, the Nervina, supporting
+      the awakening Aradna. And in front of all, the powerful bulk of Hobart
+      Fenton, standing squarely at the head of the stair, ready to grapple the
+      first to reach the landing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But most important of all, there stood the doctor himself. He was at the
+      Nervina's side; in his hand, the case of priceless data. He was gazing
+      through the Spot and making a signal of some kind to Watson, whereupon the
+      latter leaped to the edge of the unseen circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Something had gone wrong. The Spot was not fully open. Nothing but sight
+      could get through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet there was no time for anything. Up the stairs came the Bars, leading
+      and being pressed forward by the horde. At their head dashed the Bar
+      Senestro, handsome as Alexander. Hobart stepped forward to meet him, but
+      the doctor stopped him with a word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only a few seconds elapsed between death and salvation. Again Dr. Holcomb
+      signed to Watson; not a sound came through. Watson hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The dog Queen shot to her feet. Then the Senestro, out-distancing all the
+      rest and dodging Hobart, had leaped upon the dais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon the wall across the temple the great Leaf of the Jarados stood out
+      like sinister fire. It pulsed and vibrated&mdash;alive. The top petal&mdash;the
+      blue one&mdash;suddenly broke into a seething wave of flame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Watson held back. He could not understand what Holcomb meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Queen waited only until the Senestro set foot on the dais. She crouched,
+      then leaped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a lightning shift of his nimble feet, the high-tempered Bar kicked
+      the shepherd in the side. Caught at full leap, she was knocked completely
+      over and fell upon the snow-stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the Sacrilege!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even the Bars beyond the Senestro stopped in horror. The Four-Footed One&mdash;sacred
+      to the Jarados&mdash;it was she who had been touched! Had the Senestro
+      undone all on the Spot of Judgment, What would be the end?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fenton acted. He caught the Senestro before he could get his balance and
+      with a mighty heave hurled him over the side of the stair. A second, and
+      it was over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another second was the last. For the great Leaf of the Jarados had opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The green and red stood still; but out of the blue came a dazzling light,
+      a powerful beam; so brilliant, it seemed solid. It shot across the whole
+      sweep of the temple and touched the Prophecy. Over the golden scrolls it
+      traced its marvellous colour, until it came to the lines:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I
+  have given ye, and the day be postponed&mdash;beware ye of
+  sacrilege!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      For a moment the strange light stood still, so that the checked millions
+      might read. Then it turned upon the dais.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There it spread, and hovered over the group, until it seemed to work them
+      together&mdash;the Nervina to Harry, the Aradna to Hobart. Not one of them
+      knew what it was; they obeyed by impulse&mdash;it was their destiny; the
+      Chosen, and the queens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The light stopped at the foot of Dr. Holcomb. Then the strangest thing
+      happened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Out of the light&mdash;or rather, from where it bathed the snowstone&mdash;came
+      a man; a man much like Holcomb, bearded and short and kindly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the real Jarados!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unhesitatingly the professor stepped up beside him. Then followed Hobart
+      and the Aradna, Harry and the Nervina, and lastly, from the crowd of Bars,
+      MacPherson. The whole concourse in the temple stopped in awe and terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only for a second. Then the Jarados and all at his side&mdash;were gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And upon the snow-stone there stood a sword of living flame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It stood there for just a breath, exactly where the group had been.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No; not quite all. For when the Blind Spot closed that night at 288
+      Chatterton Place, there came once more the deep, solemn peal of the Bell
+      of the Jarados.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XLVIII. &mdash; THE UNACCOUNTABLE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Were this account merely a work of fiction, it would harmonise things so
+      as to have no unaccountables in it. As it is, the present writers will
+      have to make this quite clear:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is not known why the Rhamda Avec failed to show himself at the crucial
+      moment. Perhaps he could have changed everything. We can only surmise; he
+      has not been seen or heard from since.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Which also is true of Mr. Chick Watson. He disappeared immediately after
+      the closing of the Spot, saying that he was going to Bertha Holcomb's
+      home. No trace has been found of either to date. Doubtless the reader has
+      noted advertisement in the papers, appealing to the authorities to report
+      any one of Watson's description applying for a marriage licence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for his two friends, Wendel and Fenton, together with the Aradna and
+      the Nervina, they and MacPherson and the doctor absolutely vanished from
+      all the knowledge, either of the Thomahlia or the earth. The Jarados alone
+      can tell of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mme. Le Fabre, however, feels that she can explain the matter
+      satisfactorily. Abridged, her theory runs:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is but one way to explore the Occult. That way is to die.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For all that we were so strongly impressed with the reality of Mr.
+      Watson, I am firmly convinced that he was simply a spirit; that everything
+      we saw was spirit manifestation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dr. Holcomb and all the rest have simply gone on to another plane. We
+      shall never see them again. They are dead; no other explanation will hold.
+      They are spirits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Giving this version to the public strictly for what it is worth, the
+      present writers feel it only right to submit the conclusions reached by
+      Dr. Malloy and concurred in by Drs. Higgins and Hansen, also, with
+      reservations, by Professor Herold and by Miss Clarke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To a certain extent, and up to a certain point, it is possible to account
+      for the astonishing case of the Blind Spot by means of well-known
+      psychological principles. Hallucinations will cover a great deal of
+      ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we feel that our personal experiences, in witnessing the interior of
+      the Thomahlia cannot be thus explained away. Our accounts tally too
+      exactly; and we are not subject to group hypnosis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To explain this we believe a new hypothesis is called for. We submit that
+      what we saw was not unreal. Assuming that a thing is real or unreal, and
+      can never be in a third state which is neither one nor the other, then we
+      should have to insist that what we saw was REAL.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We stand ready and prepared to accept any theory which will fit all
+      facts, not merely a portion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again refraining from any comment we pass on to the more exhaustive
+      opinion of Sir Henry Hodges. Inasmuch as this seems to coincide very
+      closely with the hypothesis of Professor Holcomb, and as the reputation of
+      Sir Henry is a thing of weight, we are quoting him almost verbatim:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is a well-known experiment in chemistry, wherein equal quantities
+      of water and alcohol are mixed. Let us say, a pint of each. Now, the
+      resulting mixture ought to be a quart; but it is not. It is somewhat less
+      than a quart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Strange, indeed, to the novice, but a commonplace to every student of the
+      subject. It is strange only that, except for Dr. Holcomb and this man
+      Avec, science has overlooked the stupendous significance and suggestion of
+      this particular fact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, consider another well-known fact: No matter how you try you cannot
+      prevent gravity from acting. It will pull every object down, regardless of
+      how you try to screen it from the earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Because gravity penetrates all things. Again, why? Why should
+      gravity penetrate all things?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The answer is, because gravity is a function of the ether. And the ether
+      is an imponderable substance, so impalpable that it passes right through
+      all solids as though they were not there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are two highly suggestive points. They show us, first, that two
+      substances can exist within the space formerly thought to be completely
+      filled by one. Second, they show that ALL substances are porous to the
+      ether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. Bear in mind that we know nothing whatever directly about the
+      ether; our knowledge is all indirect. Therefore&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be that there is more than one ether!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Conceive what this means. If there were another ether, how could we
+      become aware of it? Only through the medium of some such phenomenon as the
+      Blind Spot; not through ordinary channels. For the ordinary channels are
+      microscopes and test-tubes, every one of which, when traced to the
+      ultimate, is simply a concrete expression of THE ONE ETHER WE KNOW!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the nature of the case our five senses could never apprehend a second
+      ether.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet, knowing what we do about the structure of the atom, of electronic
+      activity, of quantels, we must admit that there is a huge, unoccupied
+      space&mdash;that is, we can't see that it is occupied&mdash;in and between
+      the interstices of the atom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is in the region, mingled and intertwined with the electrons which
+      make up the world we know so well, that&mdash;in my opinion&mdash;the
+      Thomahlian world exists. It is actually coexistent with our own. It is
+      here, and so are we. At this very instant, at any given spot, there can
+      be, and almost certainly is, more than one solid object&mdash;two systems
+      of materiality, two systems of life, two systems of death. And if two,
+      why, then, perhaps there are even more!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Holcomb is right. We are Infinity. Only our five senses make us finite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlotte Fenton does not indulge in speculation. She seems to bear up
+      wonderfully well in the face of Harry Wendel's affinity for the Nervina,
+      and also in the face of her brother's disappearance. And she
+      philosophically states:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When Columbus returned from his search for the East Indies, he
+      triumphantly announced that he had found what he sought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was mistaken. He had found something else&mdash;America.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may be that we are all mistaken. It may be that something entirely
+      different from what any one has suspected has been found. Time will tell.
+      I am willing to wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      To make it complete, it is felt that the following statement of General
+      Hume is not only essential, but convincing to the last degree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My view regarding this mystery is simply this: I have eyes, and I have
+      seen. I don't know whether the actors were living or dead. I am no
+      scientist; I have no theory. I only know. And I will swear to what I saw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a soldier. The two men who are bringing this to press have shown me
+      their copy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is correct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's The Blind Spot, by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
+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 Blind Spot
+
+Author: Austin Hall
+        Homer Eon Flint
+
+Commentator: Forrest J Ackerman
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4920]
+[This file was first posted on March 27, 2002]
+Last Updated: June 19, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLIND SPOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND SPOT
+
+By Austin Hall And Homer Eon Flint
+
+Introduction By Forrest J Ackerman
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE LURE AND LORE OF "THE BLIND SPOT"
+
+BY FORREST J ACKERMAN
+
+The Blind Spot opens with the words: "Perhaps it were just as well to
+start at the beginning. A mere matter of news." Suppose I use them in
+the same sense:
+
+A mere matter of news: The first instalment of this fabulous novel was
+featured in Argosy-All-Story-Weekly for May 14, 1921. Described as a
+"different" serial, it was introduced by a cover by Modest Stein. In
+the foreground was the profile of a girl of another dimension--ethereal,
+sensuous, the eternal feminine--the Nervina of the story. Filmy
+crystalline earrings swept back over her bare shoulders. Dominating the
+background was a huge flaming yellow ball, like our Sun as seen from the
+hypothetical Vulcan--splotched with murky, mysterious globii vitonae.
+There was an ancient quay, and emerging from the ultramarine waters
+about it a silhouetted metropolis of spires, domes, and minarets. It was
+1921, and that generation thus received its first glimpse of the alien
+landscape of The Blind Spot and the baroque beauty of an immortal woman
+of fantasy fiction.
+
+The authors? Homer Eon Flint was already a reigning favourite with
+post-World-War-I enthusiasts of imaginative literature, who had eagerly
+devoured his QUEEN OF LIFE and LORD OF DEATH, his KING OF CONSERVE
+ISLAND and THE PLANETEER. Austin Hall was well known and popular for his
+ALMOST IMMORTAL, REBEL SOUL, and INTO THE INFINITE.
+
+Then came this epoch-making collaboration. When Mary Gnaedinger launched
+Famous Fantastic Mysteries magazine she early presented THE BLIND SPOT,
+and printed it again in that magazine's companion Fantastic Novels.
+These reprints are now collectors' items, almost unobtainable,
+and otherwise the story has long been out of print. Rumour says an
+unauthorised German version of THE BLIND SPOT, has been published in
+book form. There is another book called THE BLIND SPOT, and also a
+magazine story, and a major movie studio was to produce a film of the
+same title. However, here is presented the only hard-cover version of
+the only BLIND SPOT of consequence to lovers of fantasy.
+
+Who wrote the story? When I first looked into the question, as a 15 year
+old boy, Homer Eon Flint (he originally spelled his name with a "d")
+was already dead of a fall into a canyon. In 1949 his widow told me: "I
+think Homer's father contributed that middle name"--the same name (with
+slightly different spelling) that the Irish poet George Russell took
+as his pen-name, which became known by its abbreviation AE. Mrs. Flindt
+said of Flint's father: "He was a very deep thinker, and enjoyed reading
+heavy material." Like father, like son. "Homer always talked over his
+ideas with me, and although I couldn't always follow his thoughts it
+seemed to help him to express them to another--it made some things come
+more clearly to him."
+
+Flint was a great admirer of H. G. Wells (this little
+grandmother-schoolteacher told me) and had probably read all his works
+up to the time when he (Flint) died in 1924. He had read Doyle and
+Haggard, but: "Wells was his favourite--the real thinker."
+
+Flint found a fellow-thinker in Austin Hall, whom he met in San
+Jose, California, while working at a shop where shoes were repaired
+electrically--"a rather new concept at the time." Hall, learning that
+Flint lived in the same city, sought him out, and they became fast
+friends. Each stimulated the other. As Hall told me twenty years ago of
+the origin of THE BLIND SPOT:
+
+"One day after we had lunched together, I held my finger up in front of
+one of my eyes and said: 'Homer, couldn't a story be written about that
+blind spot in the eye?' Not much was said about it at the time, but four
+days later, again at lunch, I outlined the whole story to him. I wrote
+the first eighteen chapters; Homer took up the tale as 'Hobart Fenton'
+and wrote the chapters about the house of miracles, the living death,
+the rousing of Aradna's mind, and so forth, up to 'The Man from Space,'
+where once again I took over."
+
+To THE BLIND SPOT Hall contributed a great knowledge of history and
+anthropology, while Flint's fortes were physics and medicine. Both had a
+great fund of philosophy at their command.
+
+When I met Hall (about four years older than Flint) he was in his
+fifties: a devil-may-care old codger (old to a fifteen-year-old, that
+is) full of good humour and indulgence for a youthful admirer who had
+journeyed far to meet him. He casually referred to his 600 published
+stories, and I carried away the impression of one who resembled both
+in output and in looks that other fiction-factory of the time, Edgar
+Wallace.
+
+Finally: Several years ago, before I knew anything about the present
+volume, I had an unusual experience. (At that time I had no reason to
+think THE BLIND SPOT would ever become available as a book, for the
+location of the heirs proved a Herculean task by itself; publishers had
+long wanted to present this amazing novel but could not do so until I
+located Mrs. Mae Hall and Mrs. Mabel Flindt.) While, unfortunately, I
+did not take careful notes at the time, the gist of the occurrence was
+this:
+
+I visited a friend whose hobby (besides reading fantasy) was the
+occult, who volunteered to entertain me with automatic writing and
+the ouija-board. Now, I share Lovecraft's scepticism towards the
+supernatural, regarding it as at best a means of amusement. When the
+question arose of what spirits we should try to lure to our planchette,
+the names of Lovecraft, Merritt, Hall, and Flint popped into my
+pixilated mind. So I set my fingers on the wooden heart and, since my
+host was also a Flint admirer, we asked about Flint's fatal accident.
+The ouija spelled out:
+
+N-O A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T--R-O-B-B-E-R-Y
+
+There followed something about being held up by a hitch-hiker. Then Hall
+(or at least some energy-source other than my own conscious mind) came
+through too, and when I asked if he had left any work behind he replied:
+
+Y-E-S--T-H-E L-A-S-T G-O-D-L-I-N-G
+
+Later I asked his son about this (without revealing the title) and Javen
+Hall told me of the story his father had been plotting when he died: THE
+HIDDEN EMPIRE, or THE CHILD OF THE SOUTHWIND. Whatever was pushing the
+planchette failed to inform me that when I found Austin Hall's son and
+widow, they would put into my hands an unknown, unpublished fantasy
+novel by Hall: THE HOUSE OF DAWN! Some day it may appear in print.
+
+Meanwhile you are getting understandably impatient to explore that
+unknown realm of the Blind Spot. Be on your way, and bon voyage!
+
+FORREST J ACKERMAN, Beverley Hills, Calif.
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+Perhaps it were just as well to start at the beginning. A mere matter of
+news.
+
+All the world at the time knew the story; but for the benefit of those
+who have forgotten I shall repeat it. I am merely giving it as I have
+taken it from the papers with no elaboration and no opinion--a mere
+statement of facts. It was a celebrated case at the time and stirred the
+world to wonder. Indeed, it still is celebrated, though to the layman it
+is forgotten.
+
+It has been labelled and indexed and filed away in the archives of the
+profession. To those who wish to look it up it will be spoken of as one
+of the great unsolved mysteries of the century. A crime that leads two
+ways, one into murder--sordid, cold and calculating; and the other into
+the nebulous screen that thwarts us from the occult.
+
+Perhaps it is the character of Dr. Holcomb that gives the latter. He was
+a great man and a splendid thinker. That he should have been led into a
+maze of cheap necromancy is, on the face, improbable. He had a wonderful
+mind. For years he had been battering down the scepticism that had
+bulwarked itself in the material.
+
+He was a psychologist, and up to the day the greatest, perhaps, that we
+have known. He had a way of going out before his fellows--it is the way
+of genius--and he had gone far, indeed, before them. If we would trust
+Dr. Holcomb we have much to live for; our religion is not all hearsay
+and there is a great deal in science still unthought of. It is an
+unfortunate case; but there is much to be learned in the circumstance
+that led the great doctor into the Blind Spot.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+RHAMDA AVEC
+
+
+On a certain foggy morning in September, 1905, a tall man wearing a
+black overcoat and bearing in one hand a small satchel of dark-reddish
+leather descended from a Geary Street tram at the foot of Market Street,
+San Francisco. It was a damp morning; a mist was brooding over the city
+blurring all distinctness.
+
+The man glanced about him; a tall man of trim lines and distinctness
+and a quick, decided step and bearing. In the shuffle of descending
+passengers he was outstanding, with a certain inborn grace that without
+the blood will never come from training. Men noticed and women out of
+instinct cast curious furtive glances and then turned away; which was
+natural, inasmuch as the man was plainly old. But for all that many
+ventured a second glance--and wondered.
+
+An old man with the poise of twenty, a strange face of remarkable
+features, swarthy, of an Eastern cast, perhaps Indian; whatever the
+certainty of the man's age there was still a lingering suggestion
+of splendid youth. If one persisted in a third or fourth look this
+suggestion took an almost certain tone, the man's age dwindled, years
+dropped from him, and the quizzical smile that played on the lips seemed
+a foreboding of boyish laughter.
+
+We say foreboding because in this case it is not mistaken diction.
+Foreboding suggests coming evil; the laughter of boys is wholehearted.
+It was merely that things were not exactly as they should be; it was not
+natural that age should be so youthful. The fates were playing, and in
+this case for once in the world's history their play was crosswise.
+
+It is a remarkable case from the beginning and we are starting from
+facts. The man crossed to the window of the Key Route ferry and
+purchased a ticket for Berkeley, after which, with the throng, he passed
+the turnstile and on to the boat that was waiting. He took the lower
+deck, not from choice, apparently, but more because the majority of his
+fellow passengers, being men, were bound in this direction. The same
+chance brought him to the cigar-stand. The men about him purchased
+cigars and cigarettes, and as is the habit of all smokers, strolled off
+with delighted relish. The man watched them. Had anyone noticed his eyes
+he would have noted a peculiar colour and a light of surprise. With the
+prim step that made him so distinctive he advanced to the news-stand.
+
+"Pardon me; but I would like to purchase one of those." Though he spoke
+perfect English it was in a strange manner, after the fashion of one
+who has found something that he has just learned how to use. At the
+same time he made a suggestion with his tapered fingers indicating the
+tobacco in the case. The clerk looked up.
+
+"A cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What will it be?"
+
+"A cigar?" Again the strange articulation. "Ah, yes, that is it. Now
+I remember. And it has a little sister, the cigarette. I think I shall
+take a cigarette, if--if--if you will show me how to use it."
+
+It was a strange request. The clerk was accustomed to all manner of
+men and their brands of humour; he was about to answer in kind when he
+looked up and into the man's eyes. He started.
+
+"You mean," he asked, "that you have never seen a cigar or cigarette;
+that you do not know how to use them? A man as old as you are."
+
+The stranger laughed. It was rather resentful, but for all that of a
+hearty taint of humour.
+
+"So old? Would you say that I am as old as that; if you will look
+again--"
+
+The young man did and what he beheld is something that he could not
+quite account for: the strange conviction of this remarkable man; of age
+melting into youth, of an uncertain freshness, the smile, not of sixty,
+but of twenty. The young man was not one to argue, whatever his wonder;
+he was first of all a lad of business; he could merely acquiesce.
+
+"The first time! This is the first time you have ever seen a cigar or
+cigarette?"
+
+The stranger nodded.
+
+"The first time. I have never beheld one of them before this morning. If
+you will allow me?" He indicated a package. "I think I shall take one of
+these."
+
+The clerk took up the package, opened the end, and shook out a single
+cigarette. The man lit it and, as the smoke poured out of his mouth,
+held the cigarette tentatively in his fingers.
+
+"Like it?" It was the clerk who asked.
+
+The other did not answer, his whole face was the expression of having
+just discovered one of the senses. He was a splendid man and, if the
+word may be employed of the sterner sex, one of beauty. His features
+were even; that is to be noted, his nose chiselled straight and to
+perfection, the eyes of a peculiar sombreness and lustre almost burning,
+of a black of such intensity as to verge into red and to be devoid of
+pupils, and yet, for all of that, of a glow and softness. After a moment
+he turned to the clerk.
+
+"You are young, my lad."
+
+"Twenty-one, sir."
+
+"You are fortunate. You live in a wonderful age. It is as wonderful as
+your tobacco. And you still have many great things before you."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The man walked on to the forward part of the boat; leaving the youth,
+who had been in a sort of daze, watching. But it was not for long. The
+whole thing had been strange and to the lad almost inexplicable. The man
+was not insane, he was certain; and he was just as sure that he had not
+been joking. From the start he had been taken by the man's refinement,
+intellect and education. He was positive that he had been sincere. Yet--
+
+The ferry detective happened at that moment to be passing. The clerk
+made an indication with his thumb.
+
+"That man yonder," he spoke, "the one in black. Watch him." Then he told
+his story. The detective laughed and walked forward.
+
+It was a most fortunate incident. It was a strange case. That mere act
+of the cigar clerk placed the police on the track and gave to the world
+the only clue that it holds of the Blind Spot.
+
+The detective had laughed at the lad's recital--almost any one had a
+patent for being queer--and if this gentleman had a whim for a certain
+brand of humour that was his business. Nevertheless, he would stroll
+forward.
+
+The man was not hard to distinguish; he was standing on the forward deck
+facing the wind and peering through the mist at the grey, heavy heave of
+the water. Alongside of them the dim shadow of a sister ferry screamed
+its way through the fogbank. That he was a landsman was evidenced by his
+way of standing; he was uncertain; at every heave of the boat he would
+shift sidewise. An unusually heavy roll caught him slightly off-balance
+and jostled him against the detective. The latter held up his hand and
+caught him by the arm.
+
+"A bad morning," spoke the officer. "B-r-r-r! Did you notice the Yerbe
+Buena yonder? She just grazed us. A bad morning."
+
+The stranger turned. As the detective caught the splendid face, the
+glowing eyes and the youthful smile, he started much as had done the
+cigar clerk. The same effect of the age melting into youth and--the
+officer being much more accustomed to reading men--a queer sense of
+latent and potent vision. The eyes were soft and receptive but for
+all that of the delicate strength and colour that comes from abnormal
+intellect. He noted the pupils, black, glowing, of great size, almost
+filling the iris and the whole melting into intensity that verged into
+red. Either the man had been long without sleep or he was one of unusual
+intelligence and vitality.
+
+"A nasty morning," repeated the officer.
+
+"Ah! Er, yes--did you say it was a nasty morning? Indeed, I do not know,
+sir. However, it is very interesting."
+
+"Stranger in San Francisco?"
+
+"Well, yes. At least, I have never seen it."
+
+"H-m!" The detective was a bit nonplussed by the man's evident evasion.
+"Well, if you are a stranger I suppose it is up to me to come to
+the defence of my city. This is one of Frisco's fogs. We have them
+occasionally. Sometimes they last for days. This one is a low one.
+It will lift presently. Then you will see the sun. Have you ever seen
+Frisco's sun?"
+
+"My dear sir"--this same slow articulation--"I have never seen your sun
+nor any other."
+
+"Hum!"
+
+It was an answer altogether unexpected. Again the officer found himself
+gazing into the strange, refined face and wonderful eyes. The man was
+not blind, of that he was certain. Neither was his voice harsh or testy.
+Rather was it soft and polite, of one merely stating a fact. Yet how
+could it be? He remembered the cigar clerk. Neither cigar nor sun! From
+what manner of land could the man come? A detective has a certain
+gift of intuition. Though on the face of it, outside of the man's
+personality, there could be nothing to it but a joke, he chose to act
+upon the impulse. He pulled back the door which had been closed behind
+them and re-entered the boat. When he returned the boat had arrived at
+the pier.
+
+"You are going to Oakland?"
+
+It was a chance question.
+
+"No, to Berkeley. I take a train here, I understand. Do all the trains
+go to Berkeley?"
+
+"By no means. I am going to Berkeley myself. We can ride together. My
+name is Jerome. Albert Jerome."
+
+"Thanks. Mine is Avec. Rhamda Avec. I am much obliged. Your company may
+be instructive."
+
+He did not say more, but watched with unrestrained interest their
+manoeuvre into the slip. A moment later they were marching with the
+others down the gangways to the trains waiting. Just as they were seated
+and the electric train was pulling out of the pier the sun breaking
+through the mist blazed with splendid light through the cloud rifts. The
+stranger was next to the window where he could look out over the water
+and beyond at the citied shoreline, whose sea of housetops extended and
+rose to the peaks of the first foothills. The sun was just coming over
+the mountains.
+
+The detective watched. There was sincerity in the man's actions. It was
+not acting. When the light first broke he turned his eyes full into the
+radiance. It was the act of a child and, so it struck the officer, of
+the same trust and simplicity--and likewise the same effect. He drew
+away quickly: for the moment blinded.
+
+"Ah!" he said. "It is so. This is the sun. Your sun is wonderful!"
+
+"Indeed it is," returned the other. "But rather common. We see it every
+day. It's the whole works, but we get used to it. For myself I cannot
+see anything strange in the 'sun's still shining.' You have been blind,
+Mr. Avec? Pardon the question. But I must naturally infer. You say you
+have never seen the sun. I suppose--"
+
+He stopped because of the other's smile; somehow it seemed a very
+superior one, as if predicting a wealth of wisdom.
+
+"My dear Mr. Jerome," he spoke, "I have never been blind in my life. I
+say it is wonderful! It is glorious and past describing. So is it all,
+your water, your boats, your ocean. But I see there is one thing even
+stranger still. It is yourselves. With all your greatness you are only
+part of your surroundings. Do you know what is your sun?"
+
+"Search me," returned the officer. "I'm no astronomer. I understand they
+don't know themselves. Fire, I suppose, and a hell of a hot one! But
+there is one thing that I can tell."
+
+"And this--"
+
+"Is the truth."
+
+If he meant it for insinuation it was ineffective. The other smiled
+kindly. In the fine effect of the delicate features, and most of all
+in the eyes was sincerity. In that face was the mark of genius--he felt
+it--and of a potent superior intelligence. Most of all did he note the
+beauty and the soft, silky superlustre of the eyes.
+
+We have the whole thing from Jerome, at least this part of it; and our
+interest being retrospect is multiplied far above that of the detective.
+The stranger had a certain call of character and of appearance, not
+to say magnetism. The officer felt himself almost believing and
+yet restraining himself into caution of unbelief. It was a remark
+preposterous on the face of it. What puzzled Jerome was the purpose;
+he could think of nothing that would necessitate such statements and
+acting. He was certain that the man was sane.
+
+In the light of what came after great stress has been laid by a certain
+class upon this incident. We may say that we lean neither way. We have
+merely given it in some detail because of that importance. We have
+yet no proof of the mystic and until it is proved, we must lean, like
+Jerome, upon the cold material. We have the mystery, but, even at that,
+we have not the certainty of murder.
+
+Understand, it was intuition that led Jerome into that memorable trip to
+Berkeley; he happened to be going off duty and was drawn to the man by
+a chance incident and the fact of his personality. At this minute,
+however, he thought no more of him than as an eccentric, as some
+refined, strange wonderful gentleman with a whim for his own brand of
+humour. Only that could explain it. The man had an evident curiosity
+for everything about him, the buildings, the street, the cars, and the
+people. Frequently he would mutter: "Wonderful, wonderful, and all the
+time we have never known it. Wonderful!"
+
+As they drew into Lorin the officer ventured a question.
+
+"You have friends in Berkeley? I see you are a stranger. If I may
+presume, perhaps I may be of assistance?"
+
+"Well, yes, if--if--do you know of a Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+"You mean the professor. He lives on Dwight Way. At this time of the
+day you would be more apt to find him at the university. Is he expecting
+you?"
+
+It was a blunt question and of course none of his business. Yet,
+just what another does not want him to know is ever the pursuit of a
+detective. At the same time the subconscious flashing and wondering at
+the name Rhamda Avec--surely neither Teutonic nor Sanskrit nor anything
+between.
+
+"Expecting me? Ah, yes. Pardon me if I speak slowly. I am not quite used
+to speech--yet. I see you are interested. After I see Dr. Holcomb I may
+tell you. However, it is very urgent that I see the doctor. He--well, I
+may say that we have known each other a long time."
+
+"Then you know him?"
+
+"Yes, in a way; though we have never met. He must be a great man. We
+have much in common, your doctor and I; and we have a great deal to
+give to your world. However, I would not recognise him should I see him.
+Would you by any chance--"
+
+"You mean would I be your guide? With pleasure. It just happens that I
+am on friendly terms with your friend Dr. Holcomb."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+And now to start in on another angle. There is hardly any necessity for
+introducing Dr. Holcomb. All of us, at least, those who read, and, most
+of all, those of us who are interested in any manner of speculation,
+knew him quite well. He was the professor of philosophy at the
+University of California: a great man and a good one, one of those fine
+academic souls who, not only by their wisdom, but by their character,
+have a way of stamping themselves upon generations; a speaker of the
+upstanding class, walking on his own feet and utterly fearless when it
+came to dashing out on some startling philosophy that had not been borne
+up by his forebears.
+
+He was original. He believed that the philosophies of the ages are but
+stepping stones, that the wisdom of the earth looked but to the future,
+and that the study of the classics, however essential, is but the ground
+work for combining and working out the problems of the future. He was
+epigrammatic, terse, and gifted with a quaint humour, with which he
+was apt, even when in the driest philosophy, to drive in and clinch his
+argument.
+
+Best of all, he was able to clothe the most abstract thoughts in
+language so simple and concrete that he brought the deepest of all
+subjects down to the scope of the commonest thinker. It is needless
+to say that he was 'copy.' The papers about the bay were ever and anon
+running some startling story of the professor.
+
+Had they stuck to the text it would all have been well; but a reporter
+is a reporter; in spite of the editors there were numerous little
+elaborations to pervert the context. A great man must be careful of his
+speech. Dr. Holcomb was often busy refuting; he could not understand the
+need of these little twistings of wisdom. It kept him in controversy;
+the brothers of his profession often took him to task for these little
+distorted scraps of philosophy. He did not like journalism. He had a way
+of consigning all writers and editors to the devil.
+
+Which was vastly amusing to the reporters. Once they had him going they
+poised their pens in glee and began splashing their venomous ink. It was
+tragic; the great professor standing at bay to his tormentors. One and
+all they loved him and one and all they took delight in his torture. It
+was a hard task for a reporter to get in at a lecture; and yet it was
+often the lot of the professor to find himself and his words featured in
+his breakfast paper.
+
+On the very day before this the doctor had come out with one of his
+terse startling statements. He had a way of inserting parenthetically
+some of his scraps of wisdom. It was in an Ethics class. We quote his
+words as near as possible:
+
+"Man, let me tell you, is egotistic. All our philosophy is based on ego.
+We live threescore years and we balance it with all eternity. We are it.
+Did you ever stop and think of eternity? It is a rather long time.
+What right have we to say that life, which we assume to be everlasting,
+immediately becomes restrospect once it passes out of the conscious
+individuality which is allotted upon this earth? The trouble is
+ourselves. We are five-sensed. We weigh everything! We so measure
+eternity. Until we step out into other senses, which undoubtedly exist,
+we shall never arrive at the conception of infinity. Now I am going to
+make a rather startling announcement.
+
+"The past few years have promised a culmination which has been guessed
+at and yearned for since the beginning of time. It is within, and still
+without, the scope of metaphysics. Those of you who have attended my
+lectures have heard me call myself the material idealist. I am a
+mystic sensationalist. I believe that we can derive nothing from pure
+contemplation. There is mystery and wonder in the veil of the
+occult. The earth, our life, is merely a vestibule of the universe.
+Contemplation alone will hold us all as inapt and as impotent as the
+old Monks of Athos. We have mountains of literature behind us, all
+contemplative, and whatever its wisdom, it has given us not one thing
+outside the abstract. From Plato down to the present our philosophy
+has given us not one tangible proof, not one concrete fact which we can
+place our hands on. We are virtually where we were originally; and we
+can talk, talk, talk from now until the clap of doomsday.
+
+"What then?
+
+"My friends, philosophy must take a step sidewise. In this modern age
+young science, practical science, has grown up and far surpassed us. We
+must go back to the beginning, forget our subjective musings and enter
+the concrete. We are five-sensed, and in the nature of things we must
+bring the proof down into the concrete where we can understand it. Can
+we pierce the nebulous screen that shuts us out of the occult? We have
+doubted, laughed at ourselves and been laughed at; but the fact remains
+that always we have persisted in the believing.
+
+"I have said that we shall never, never understand infinity while within
+the limitations of our five senses. I repeat it. But that does not imply
+that we shall never solve some of the mystery of life. The occult is not
+only a supposition, but a fact. We have peopled it with terror, because,
+like our forebears before Columbus, we have peopled it with imagination.
+
+"And now to my statement.
+
+"I have called myself the Material Idealist. I have adopted an entirely
+new trend of philosophy. During the past years, unknown to you and
+unknown to my friends, I have allied myself with practical science. I
+desired something concrete. While my colleagues and others were pounding
+out tomes of wonderful sophistry I have been pounding away at the screen
+of the occult. This is a proud moment. I have succeeded. Tomorrow I
+shall bring to you the fact and the substance. I have lifted up the
+curtain and flooded it with the light of day. You shall have the fact
+for your senses. Tomorrow I shall explain it all. I shall deliver my
+greatest lecture; in which my whole Me has come to a focus. It is not
+spiritualism nor sophistry. It is concrete fact and common sense. The
+subject of my lecture tomorrow will be: 'The Blind Spot.'"
+
+Here begins the second part of the mystery.
+
+We know now that the great lecture was never delivered. Immediately the
+news was scattered out of the class-room. It became common property.
+It was spread over the country and was featured in all the great
+metropolitan dailies. In the lecture-room next morning seats were at a
+premium; students, professors, instructors and all the prominent people
+who could gain admission crowded into the hall; even the irrepressible
+reporters had stolen in to take down the greatest scoop of the century.
+The place was jammed until even standing room was unthought of. The
+crowd, dense and packed and physically uncomfortable, waited.
+
+The minutes dragged by. It was a long, long wait. But at last the bell
+rang that ticked the hour. Every one was expectant. And then fifteen
+minutes passed by, twenty--the crowd settled down to waiting. At length
+one of the colleagues stepped into the doctor's office and telephoned to
+his home. His daughter answered.
+
+"Father? Why he left over two hours ago."
+
+"About what time?"
+
+"Why, it was about seven-thirty. You know he was to deliver his lecture
+today on the Blind Spot. I wanted to hear it, but he told me I could
+have it at home. He said he was to have a wonderful guest and I must
+make ready to receive him. Isn't father there?"
+
+"Not yet. Who was this guest? Did he say?"
+
+"Oh yes! In a way. A most wonderful man. And he gave him a wonderful
+name, Rhamda Avec. I remember because it is so funny. I asked father if
+he was Sanskrit; and he said he was much older than that. Just imagine!"
+
+"Did your father have his lecture with him?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He glanced over it at breakfast. He told me he was going to
+startle the world as it had never been since the day of Columbus."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"Yes. And he was terribly impatient. He said he had to be at the college
+before eight to receive the great man. He was to deliver his lecture at
+ten. And afterward he would have lunch at noon and he would give me the
+whole story. I'm all impatience."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Then he came back and made the announcement that there was a little
+delay; but that Dr. Holcomb would be there shortly. But he was not. At
+twelve o'clock there were still some people waiting. At one o'clock the
+last man had slipped out of the room--and wondered. In all the country
+there was but one person who knew. That one was an obscure man who had
+yielded to a detective's intuition and had fallen inadvertently upon one
+of the greatest mysteries of modern times.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+"NOW THERE ARE TWO"
+
+
+The rest of the story is unfortunately all too easily told. We go back
+to Jerome and his strange companion.
+
+At Centre Street station they alighted and walked up to the university.
+Under the Le Conte oaks they met the professor. He was trim and happy,
+his short, well-built figure clothed in black, his snow-white whiskers
+trimmed to the usual square crop and his pink skin glowing with splendid
+health. The fog had by this time lifted and the sun was just beginning
+to overcome the chilliness of the air. There was no necessity for an
+introduction.
+
+The two men apparently recognised each other at once. So we have it from
+the detective. There was sincerity in the delight of their hand-clasp. A
+strange pair, both of them with the distinction and poise that come
+from refinement and intellectual training; though in physique they were
+almost opposite, there was still a strange, almost mutual, bond between
+them. Dr. Holcomb was beaming.
+
+"At last!" he greeted. "At last! I was sure we could not fail. This, my
+dear Dr. Avec, is the greatest day since Columbus."
+
+The other took the hand.
+
+"So this is the great Dr. Holcomb. Yes, indeed, it is a great day;
+though I know nothing about your Columbus. So far it has been simply
+wonderful. I can scarcely credit my senses. So near and yet so far. How
+can it be? A dream? Are you sure, Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+"My dear Rhamda, I am sure that I am the happiest man that ever lived.
+It is the culmination. I was certain we could not fail; though, of
+course, to me also it is an almost impossible climax of fact. I should
+never have succeeded without your assistance."
+
+The other smiled.
+
+"That was of small account, my dear doctor. To yourself must go the
+credit; to me the pleasure. Take your sun, for instance, I--but I have
+not the language to tell you."
+
+But the doctor had gone in to abstraction.
+
+"A great day," he was beaming. "A great day! What will the world say? It
+is proved." Then suddenly: "You have eaten?"
+
+"Not yet. You must allow me a bit of time. I thought of it; but I had
+not quite the courage to venture."
+
+"Then we shall eat," said the other man. "Afterward we shall go up to
+the lecture-room. Today I shall deliver my lecture on the Blind Spot.
+And when I am through you shall deliver the words that will astonish the
+world."
+
+But here it seems there was a hitch. The other shook his head kindly.
+It was evident that while the doctor was the leader, the other was a
+co-worker who must be considered.
+
+"I am afraid, professor, that you have promised a bit too much. I am not
+entirely free yet, you know. Two hours is the most that I can give you;
+and not entirely that. There are some details that may not be neglected.
+It is a far venture and now that we have succeeded this far there is
+surely no reason why we cannot go on. However, it is necessary that I
+return to the house on Chatterton Place. I have but slightly over an
+hour left."
+
+The doctor was plainly disappointed.
+
+"But the lecture?"
+
+"It means my life, professor, and the subsequent success of our
+experiment. A few details, a few minutes. Perhaps if we hurry we can get
+back in time."
+
+The doctor glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes for the train, twenty
+minutes for the boat, ten minutes; that's an hour, two hours. These
+details? Have you any idea how long, Rhamda?"
+
+"Perhaps not more than fifteen minutes."
+
+"We have still two hours. Fifteen minutes; perhaps a little bit late.
+Tell you what. I shall go with you. You can get on the boat."
+
+We have said that the detective had intuition. He had it still. Yet
+he had no rational reason for suspecting either the professor or his
+strange companion. Furthermore he had never heard of the Blind Spot
+in any way whatsoever; nor did he know a single thing of philosophy
+or anything else in Holcomb's teaching. He knew the doctor as a man
+of eminent standing and respectability. It was hardly natural that he
+should suspect anything sinister to grow out of this meeting of two
+refined scholars. He attached no great importance to the trend of their
+conversation. It was strange, to be sure; but he felt, no doubt, that
+living in their own world they had a way and a language of their own. He
+was no scholar.
+
+Still, he could think. The man Rhamda had made an assertion that he
+could not quite uncover. It puzzled him. Something told him that for the
+safety of his old friend it might be well for him to shadow the strange
+pair to the city.
+
+When the next train pulled out for the pier the two scholars were
+seated in the forward part of the car. In the last seat was a man deeply
+immersed in a morning paper.
+
+It is rather unfortunate. In the natural delicacy of the situation
+Jerome could not crowd too closely. He had no certainty of trouble; no
+proof whatever; he was known to the professor. The best he could do was
+to keep aloof and follow their movements. At the ferry building they
+hailed a taxi and started up Market Street. Jerome watched them. In
+another moment he had another driver and was winding behind in their
+wheel tracks. The cab made straight for Chatterton Place. In front of a
+substantial two-story house it drew up. The two men alighted. Jerome's
+taxi passed them.
+
+They were then at the head of the steps; a woman of slender beauty
+with a wonderful loose fold of black hair was talking. It seemed to the
+detective that her voice was fearful, of a pregnant warning, that she
+was protesting. Nevertheless, the old men entered and the door slammed
+behind them. Jerome slipped from the taxi and spoke a few words to
+the driver. A moment later the two men were holding the house under
+surveillance.
+
+They did not have long to wait. The man called Rhamda had asked for
+fifteen minutes. At the stroke of the second the front door re-opened.
+Someone was laughing; a melodious enchanting laugh and feminine. A woman
+was speaking. And then there were two forms in the doorway. A man and
+a woman. The man was Rhamda Avec, tall, immaculate, black clad and
+distinguished. The woman, Jerome was not certain that she was the
+same who opened the door or not; she was even more beautiful. She
+was laughing. Like her companion she was clad in black, a beautiful
+shimmering material which sparkled in the sun like the rarest silk.
+The man glanced carelessly up and down the street for a moment. Then he
+assisted the lady down the steps and into the taxi. The door slammed;
+and before the detective could gather his scattered wits they were lost
+in the city.
+
+Jerome was expecting the professor. Naturally when the door opened he
+looked for the old gentleman and his companion. It was the doctor he was
+watching, not the other. Though he had no rational reason for expecting
+trouble he had still his hunch and his intuition. The man and woman
+aroused suspicion; and likewise upset his calculation. He could not
+follow them and stay with the professor. It was a moment for quick
+decision. He wondered. Where was Dr. Holcomb? This was the day he was to
+deliver his lecture on the Blind Spot. He had read the announcement in
+the paper on the way back, together with certain comments by the editor.
+In the lecture itself there was mystery. This strange one, Rhamda,
+was mixed in the Blind Spot. Undoubtedly he was the essential fact and
+substance. Until now he had not scented tragedy. Why had Rhamda and the
+woman come out together? Where was the professor?
+
+Where indeed?
+
+At the end of a half-hour Jerome ventured across the street. He noted
+the number 288. Then he ascended the steps and clanged at the knocker.
+From the sounds that came from inside, the place was but partly
+furnished. Hollow steps sounded down the hallway, shuffling, like weary
+bones dragging slippers. The door opened and an old woman, very old,
+peered out of the crack. She coughed. Though it was not a loud cough
+it seemed to the detective that it would be her last one; there was so
+little of her.
+
+"Pardon me, but is Dr. Holcomb here?"
+
+The old lady looked up at him. The eyes were of blank expressionless
+blue; she was in her dotage.
+
+"You mean--oh, yes, I think so, the old man with the white whiskers. He
+was here a few minutes ago, with that other. But he just went out, sir,
+he just went out."
+
+"No, I don't think so. There was a man went out and a woman. But not Dr.
+Holcomb."
+
+"A woman? There was no woman."
+
+"Oh, yes, there was a woman--a very beautiful one."
+
+The old lady dropped her hand. It was trembling.
+
+"Oh, dear," she was saying. "This makes two. This morning it was a man
+and now it is a woman, that makes two."
+
+It seemed to the man as he looked down in her eyes that he was looking
+into great fear; she was so slight and frail and helpless and so old;
+such a fragile thing to bear burden and trouble. Her voice was cracked
+and just above a shrill whisper, almost uncanny. She kept repeating:
+
+"Now there are two. Now there are two. That makes two. This morning
+there was one. Now there are two."
+
+Jerome could not understand. He pitied the old lady.
+
+"Did you say that Dr. Holcomb is here?"
+
+Again she looked up: the same blank expression, she was evidently trying
+to gather her wits.
+
+"Two. A woman. Dr. Holcomb. Oh, yes, Dr. Holcomb. Won't you come in?"
+
+She opened the door.
+
+Jerome entered and took off his hat. Judicially he repeated the doctor's
+name to keep it in her mind. She closed the door carefully and touched
+his arm. It seemed to him that she was terribly weak and tottering; her
+old eyes, however expressionless, were full of pitiful pleading. She was
+scarcely more than a shadow.
+
+"You are his son?"
+
+Jerome lied; but he did it for a reason. "Yes."
+
+"Then come."
+
+She took him by the sleeve and led him to a room, then across it to a
+door in the side wall. Her step was slow and feeble; twice she stopped
+to sing the dirge of her wonder. "First a man and then a woman. Now
+there is one. You are his son." And twice she stopped and listened. "Do
+you hear anything? A bell? I love to hear it: and then afterward I am
+afraid. Did you ever notice a bell? It always makes you think of church
+and the things that are holy. This is a beautiful bell--first--"
+
+Either the woman was without her reason or very nearly so: she was very
+frail.
+
+"Come, mother, I know, first a bell, but Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+The name brought her back again. For a moment she was blank trying to
+recall her senses. And then she remembered. She pointed to the door.
+
+"In there--Dr. Holcomb. That's where they come. That's where they
+go. Dr. Holcomb. The little old man with the beautiful whiskers. This
+morning it was a man; now it is a woman. Now there are two. Oh, dear;
+perhaps we shall hear the bell."
+
+Jerome began to scent a tragedy. Certainly the old lady was uncanny; the
+house was bare and hollow; the scant furniture was threadbare with
+age and mildew; each sound was exaggerated and fearful, even their
+breathing. He placed his hand on the knob and opened the door.
+
+"Now there are two. Now there are two."
+
+The room was empty. Not a bit of furniture; a blank, bare apartment with
+an old-fashioned high ceiling. Nothing else. Whatever the weirdness and
+adventure, Jerome was getting nowhere. The old lady was still clinging
+to his arm and still droning:
+
+"Now there are two. Now there are two. This morning a man; now a woman.
+Now there are two."
+
+"Come, mother, come. This will not do. Perhaps--"
+
+But just then the old lady's lean fingers clinched into his arm; her
+eyes grew bright; her mouth opened and she stopped in the middle of her
+drone. Jerome grew rigid. And no wonder. From the middle of the room
+not ten feet away came the tone of a bell, a great silvery voluminous
+sound--and music. A church bell. Just one stroke, full toned, filling
+all the air till the whole room was choked with music. Then as suddenly
+it died out and faded into nothing. At the same time he felt the fingers
+on his arm relax; and a heap was at his feet. He reached over. The life
+and intelligence that was so near the line was just crossing over the
+border. The poor old lady! Here was a tragedy he could not understand.
+He stooped over to assist her. He was trembling. As he did so he heard
+the drone of her soul as it wafted to the shadow:
+
+"Now there are two."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+GONE
+
+
+Jerome was a strong man, of iron nerve, and well set against emotion;
+in the run of his experience he had been plumped into many startling
+situations; but none like this. The croon of the old lady thrummed in
+his ears with endless repetition. He picked her up tenderly and bore her
+to another room and placed her on a ragged sofa. There were still marks
+on her face of former beauty. He wondered who she was and what had been
+her life to come to such an ending.
+
+"Now there are two," the words were withering with oppression.
+Subconsciously he felt the load that crushed her spirit. It was as if
+the burden had been shifted; he sensed the weight of an unaccountable
+disaster.
+
+The place was musty and ill-lighted. He looked about him, the dank,
+close air was unwashed by daylight. A stray ray of sunshine filtering
+through the broken shutter slanted across the room and sought vainly
+to dispel the shadow. He thought of Dr. Holcomb and the old lady.
+"Now there are two." Was it a double tragedy? First of all he must
+investigate.
+
+The place was of eleven rooms, six downstairs and five on the upper
+story. With the exception of one broken chair there was no furniture
+upstairs; four of the rooms on the lower floor were partly furnished,
+two not at all. A rear room had evidently been to the old lady the
+whole of her habitation, serving as a kitchen, bedroom, and living-room
+combined. Except in this room there were no carpets what-ever. His steps
+sounded hollow and ghostly; the boards creaked and each time he opened
+a door he was oppressed by the same gloom of dankness and stagnation.
+There was no trace of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+He remembered the bell and sought vainly on both floors for anything
+that would give him a clue to the sound. There was nothing. The only
+thing he heard was the echoing of his own creaking footsteps and the
+unceasing tune that dinned in his spirit, "Now there are two."
+
+At last he came to the door and looked out into the street. The sun
+was shining and the life and pulse was rising from the city. It was
+daylight; plain, healthy day. It was good to look at. On the threshold
+of the door he felt himself standing on the border of two worlds. What
+had become of the doctor and who was the old lady; and lastly and just
+as important, who was the Rhamda and his beautiful companion?
+
+Jerome telephoned to headquarters.
+
+It was a strange case.
+
+At the precise minute when his would-be auditors were beginning to
+fidget over his absence, the police of San Francisco had started the
+search for the great doctor. Jerome had followed his intuition. It had
+led him into a tragedy and he was ready to swear almost on his soul
+that it was twofold. The prominence of the professor, together with his
+startling announcement of the day previous and the world-wide comment
+that it had aroused, elevated the case to a national interest.
+
+What was the Blind Spot? The world conjectured, and like the world has
+been since beginning, it scoffed and derided. Some there were, however,
+men well up in the latest discoveries of science, who did not laugh.
+They counselled forbearance; they would wait for the doctor and his
+lecture.
+
+There was no lecture. In the teeth of our expectation came the startling
+word that the doctor had disappeared. Apparently when on the very verge
+of announcing his discovery he had been swallowed by the very force that
+he had loosened. There was nothing in known science outside of optics,
+that could in any way be blended with the Blind Spot. There were but two
+solutions; either the professor had been a victim of a clever rogue, or
+he had been overcome by the rashness of his own wisdom. At any rate, it
+was known from that minute on as "THE BLIND SPOT."
+
+Perhaps it is just as well to take up the findings of the police. The
+police of course never entertained any suggestion of the occult. They
+are material; and were convinced from the start that the case had its
+origin in downright villainy. Man is complex; but being so, is oft
+overbalanced by evil Some genius had made a fool of the doctor.
+
+In the first place a thorough search was made for the professor. The
+house at No. 288 Chatterton Place was ransacked from cellar to attic.
+The records were gone over and it was found that the property had for
+some time been vacant; that the real ownership was vested in a number of
+heirs scattered about the country.
+
+The old lady had apparently been living on the place simply through
+sufferance. No one could find out who she was. A few tradesman in the
+vicinity had sold her some scant supplies and that was all. The stress
+that Jerome placed upon her actions and words was; given its due
+account. There were undoubtedly two villains; but there were two
+victims. That the old lady was such as well as the professor no one has
+doubted. The whole secret lay in the gentleman with the Eastern cast and
+complexion. Who was Rhamda Avec?
+
+And now comes the strangest part of the story. Ever, when we re-count
+the tale, there is something to overturn the theories of the police.
+It has become a sort of legend in San Francisco; one to be taken with
+a grain of salt, to be sure, but for all that, one at which we may well
+wonder. Here the supporters of the professor's philosophy hold their
+strongest point--if it is true. Of course we can venture no private
+opinion, never having been a witness. It is this:
+
+Rhamda Avec is with us and in our city. His description and drawn
+likeness have been published many times. There are those who aver that
+they have seen him in reality of the flesh walking through the crowds of
+Market Street.
+
+He is easily distinguished, tall and distinctive, refined to a high
+degree, and with the poise and alertness of a gentleman of reliance and
+character. Women look twice and wonder; he is neither old nor young;
+when he smiles it is like youth breaking in laughter. And with him often
+is his beautiful companion.
+
+Men vouch for her beauty and swear that it is of the kind that drives to
+distraction. She is fire and flesh and carnal--she is more than beauty.
+There is allurement about her body; sylph-like, sinuous; the olive
+tint of her complexion, the wonderful glory of her hair and the glowing
+night-black of her eyes. Men pause; she is of the superlative kind that
+robs the reason, a supreme glory of passion and life and beauty, at
+whose feet fools and wise men would slavishly frolic and folly. She
+seldom speaks, but those who have heard her say that it is like rippling
+water, of gentleness and softness and of the mellow flow that comes from
+love and passion and from beauty.
+
+Of course there is nothing out of the ordinary in their walking down the
+streets. Anybody might do that. The wonder comes in the manner in which
+they elude the police. They come and go in the broad, bright daylight.
+Hundreds have seen them. They make no effort at concealment, nor
+disguise. And yet no phantoms were ever more unreal than they to those
+who seek them. Who are they? The officers have been summoned on many
+occasions; but each and every time in some manner or way they had
+contrived to elude them. There are some who have consigned them to the
+limbo of illusion. But we do not entirely agree.
+
+In a case like this it is well to take into consideration the
+respectability and character of those who have witnessed. Phantoms are
+not corporeal; these two are flesh and blood. There is mystery about
+them; but they are substance, the same as we are.
+
+And lastly:
+
+If you will take the Key Route ferry some foggy morning you may see
+something to convince you. It must be foggy and the air must be grey and
+drab and sombre. Take the lower deck. Perhaps you will see nothing. If
+not try again; for they say you shall be rewarded. Watch the forward
+part of the boat; but do not leave the inner deck. The great Rhamda
+watching the grey swirl of the water!
+
+He stands alone, in his hands the case of reddish leather, his feet
+slightly apart and his face full of a great hungry wonder. Watch his
+features: they are strong and aglow with a great and wondrous wisdom;
+mark if you see evil. And remember. Though he is like you he is
+something vastly different. He is flesh and blood; but perhaps the
+master of one of the greatest laws that man can attain to. He is the
+fact and the substance that was promised, but was not delivered by the
+professor.
+
+This account has been largely taken from one of the Sunday editions of
+our papers. I do not agree with it entirely. Nevertheless, it will serve
+as an excellent foundation for my own adventures; and what is best of
+all, save labour.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+FRIENDS
+
+
+My name is Harry Wendel.
+
+I am an attorney and until recently boasted of a splendid practice and
+an excellent prospect for the future. I am still a young man; I have
+had a good education and still have friends and admirers. Such being the
+case, you no doubt wonder why I give a past reference to my practice and
+what the future might have held for me. Listen:
+
+I might as well start 'way back. I shall do it completely and go back to
+the fast-receding time of childhood.
+
+There is a recollection of childish disaster. I had been making
+strenuous efforts to pull the tail out of the cat that I might use
+it for a feather duster. My desire was supreme logic. I could not
+understand objection; the cat resisted for certain utilitarian reasons
+of its own and my mother through humane sympathy. I had been scratched
+and spanked in addition: it was the first storm centre that I remember.
+I had been punished but not subdued. At the first opportunity, I stole
+out of the house and onto the lawn that stretched out to the pavement.
+
+I remember the day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and
+everything was green with springtime. For a minute I stood still and
+blinked in the sunlight. It was beautiful and soft and balmy; the
+world at full exuberance; the buds upon the trees, the flowers, and the
+songbirds singing. I could not understand it. It was so beautiful and
+soft. My heart was still beating fiercely, still black with perversity
+and stricken rancour. The world had no right to be so. I hated with the
+full rush of childish anger.
+
+And then I saw.
+
+Across the street coming over to meet me was a child of my age. He was
+fat and chubby, a mass of yellow curls and laughter; when he walked he
+held his feet out at angles as is the manner of fat boys and his arms
+away from his body. I slid off the porch quietly. Here was something
+that could suffer for the cat and my mother. At my rush he stopped in
+wonder. I remember his smiling face and my anger. In an instant I had
+him by the hair and was biting with all the fury of vindictiveness.
+
+At first he set up a great bawl for assistance. He could not understand;
+he screamed and held his hands aloft to keep them out of my reach. Then
+he tried to run away. But I had learned from the cat that had scratched
+me. I clung on, biting, tearing. The shrill of his scream was music: it
+was conflict, sweet and delicious; it was strife, swift as instinct.
+
+At last I stopped him; he ceased trying to get away and began to
+struggle. It was better still; it was resistance. But he was stronger
+than I; though I was quicker he managed to get my by the shoulders,
+to force me back, and finally to upset me. Then in the stolid way, and
+after the manner of fat boys, he sat upon my chest. When our startled
+mothers came upon the scene they so found us--I upon my back, clinching
+my teeth and threatening all the dire fates of childhood, and he waiting
+either for assistance or until my ire should retire sufficiently to
+allow him to release me in safety.
+
+"Who did it? Who started it?"
+
+That I remember plainly.
+
+"Hobart, did you do this?" The fat boy backed off quietly and clung to
+his mother; but he did not answer.
+
+"Hobart, did you start this?"
+
+Still no answer.
+
+"Harry, this was you; you started it. Didn't you try to hurt Hobart?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+My mother took me by the hand and drew me away.
+
+"He is a rascal, Mrs. Fenton, and has a temper like sin; but he will
+tell the truth, thank goodness."
+
+I am telling this not for the mere relation, but by way of introduction.
+It was my first meeting with Hobart Fenton. It is necessary that you
+know us both and our characters. Our lives are so entwined and so
+related that without it you could not get the gist of the story. In
+the afternoon I came across the street to play with Hobart. He met me
+smiling. It was not in his healthy little soul to hold resentment. I was
+either all smiles or anger. I forgot as quickly as I battled. That night
+there were two happy youngsters tucked into the bed and covers.
+
+So we grew up; one with the other. We played as children do and fought
+as boys have done from the beginning. I shall say right now that the
+fights were mostly my fault. I started them one and all; and if every
+battle had the same beginning it likewise had the same ending. The first
+fight was but the forerunner of all the others.
+
+Please do not think hardly of Hobart. He is the kindest soul in the
+world; there never was a truer lad nor a kinder heart. He was strong,
+healthy, fat, and, like fat boys, forever laughing. He followed me
+into trouble and when I was retreating he valiantly defended the rear.
+Stronger, sturdier, and slower, he has been a sort of protector from the
+beginning. I have called him the Rear Guard; and he does not resent it.
+
+I have always been in mischief, restless, and eager for anything that
+would bring quick action; and when I got into deep water Hobart would
+come along, pluck me out and pull me to shore and safety. Did you ever
+see a great mastiff and a fox terrier running together? It is a homely
+illustration; but an apt one.
+
+We were boys together, with our delights and troubles, joys and sorrows.
+I thought so much of Hobart that I did not shirk stooping to help him
+take care of his baby sister. That is about the supreme sacrifice of
+a boy's devotion. In after years, of course, he has laughed at me and
+swears I did it on purpose. I do not know, but I am willing to admit
+that I think a whole lot of that sister.
+
+Side by side we grew up and into manhood. We went to school and
+into college. Even as we were at odds in our physical builds and our
+dispositions, so were we in our studies. From the beginning Hobart has
+had a mania for screws, bolts, nuts, and pistons. He is practical; he
+likes mathematics; he can talk to you from the binomial theorem up
+into Calculus; he is never so happy as when the air is buzzing with
+a conversation charged with induction coils, alternating currents,
+or atomic energy. The whole swing and force of popular science is his
+kingdom. I will say for Hobart that he is just about in line to be king
+of it all. Today he is in South America, one of our greatest engineers.
+He is bringing the water down from the Andes; and it is just about like
+those strong shoulders and that good head to restore the land of the
+Incas.
+
+About myself? I went into the law. I enjoy an atmosphere of strife and
+contention. I liked books and discussion and I thought that I would like
+the law. On the advice of my elders I entered law college, and in due
+time was admitted to practice. It was while studying to qualify that
+I first ran into philosophy. I was a lad to enjoy quick, pithy,
+epigrammatic statements. I have always favoured a man who hits from the
+shoulder. Professor Holcomb was a man of terse, heavy thinking; he spoke
+what he thought and he did not quibble. He favoured no one.
+
+I must confess that the old white-haired professor left his stamp upon
+me. I loved him like all the rest; though I was not above playing a
+trick on the old fellow occasionally. Still he had a wit of his own and
+seldom came out second best, and when he lost out he could laugh like
+the next one. I was deeply impressed by him. As I took course after
+course under him I was convinced that for all of his dry philosophy the
+old fellow had a trick up his sleeve; he had a way of expounding that
+was rather startling; likewise, he had a scarcely concealed contempt for
+some of the demigods of our old philosophy.
+
+What this trick was I could never uncover. I hung on and dug into great
+tomes of wisdom. I became interested and gradually took up with his
+speculation; for all my love of action I found that I had a strong
+subcurrent for the philosophical.
+
+Now I roomed with Hobart. When I would come home with some dry tome and
+would lose myself in it by the hour he could not understand it. I was
+preparing for the law. He could see no advantage to be derived from this
+digging into speculation. He was practical and unless he could drive a
+nail into a thing or at least dig into its chemical elements it was hard
+to get him interested.
+
+"Of what use is it, Harry? Why waste your brains? These old fogies have
+been pounding on the question for three thousand years. What have they
+got? You could read all their literature from the pyramids down to the
+present sky-scrapers and you wouldn't get enough practical wisdom to
+drive a dump-cart."
+
+"That's just it," I answered. "I'm not hankering for a dump-cart.
+You have an idea that all the wisdom in the world is locked up in the
+concrete; unless a thing has wheels, pistons, some sort of combustion,
+or a chemical action you are not interested. What gives you the control
+over your machinery? Brains! But what makes the mind go?"
+
+Hobart blinked. "Fine," he answered. "Go on."
+
+"Well," I answered, "that's what I am after."
+
+He laughed. "Great. Well, keep at it. It's your funeral, Harry. When you
+have found, it let me know and I'll beat you to the patent."
+
+With that he turned to his desk and dug into one of his everlasting
+formulas. Just the same, next day when I entered Holcomb's lecture-room
+I was in for a surprise. My husky room-mate was in the seat beside me.
+
+"What's the big idea?" I asked. "Big idea is right, Harry," he grinned.
+"Just thought I would beat you to it. Had a dickens of a time with
+Dan Clark, of the engineering department. Told him I wanted to study
+philosophy. The old boy put up a beautiful holler. Couldn't understand
+what an engineer would want with psychology or ethics. Neither could I
+until I got to thinking last night when I went to roost. Because a thing
+has never been done is no reason why it never will be; is it, Harry?"
+
+"Certainly not. I don't know just what you are driving at. Perhaps you
+intend to take your notes over to the machine shop and hammer out the
+Secret of the Absolute."
+
+He grinned.
+
+"Pretty wise head at that, Harry. What did you call it? The Secret of
+the Absolute. Will remember that. I'm not much on phrases; but I'm sure
+the strong boy with the hammer. You don't object to my sitting here
+beside you; so that I, too, may drink in the little drops of wisdom?"
+
+It was in this way that Hobart entered into the study of philosophy.
+When the class was over and we were going down the steps he patted me on
+the shoulder.
+
+"That's not so bad, Harry. Not so bad. The old doctor is there; he's got
+them going. Likewise little Hobart has got a big idea."
+
+Now it happened that this was just about six weeks before Dr. Holcomb
+announced his great lecture on the Blind Spot. It was not more than a
+week after registration. In the time ensuing Fenton became just as
+great an enthusiast as myself. His idea, of course, was chimerical and
+a blind; his main purpose was to get in with me where he could argue me
+out of my folly.
+
+He wound up by being a convert of the professor.
+
+Then came the great day. The night of the announcement we had a long
+discussion. It was a deep question. For all of my faith in the professor
+I was hardly prepared for a thing like this. Strange to say I was the
+sceptic; and stranger still, it was Hobart who took the side of the
+doctor.
+
+"Why not?" he said. "It merely comes down to this: you grant that a
+thing is possible and then you deny the possibility of a proof--outside
+of your abstract. That's good paradox, Harry; but almighty poor logic.
+If it is so it certainly can be proven. There's not one reason in the
+world why we can't have something concrete. The professor is right. I am
+with him. He's the only professor in all the ages."
+
+Well, it turned out as it did. It was a terrible blow to us all. Most
+of the world took it as a great murder or an equally great case of
+abduction. There were but few, even in the university, who embraced the
+side of the doctor. It was a case of villainy, of a couple of remarkably
+clever rogues and a trusting scholar.
+
+But there was one whose faith was not diminished. He had been one of
+the last to come under the influence of the doctor. He was practical and
+concrete, and not at all attuned to philosophy; he had not the training
+for deep dry thinking. He would not recede one whit. One day I caught
+him sitting down with his head between his hands. I touched him on the
+shoulder.
+
+"What's the deep study?" I asked him.
+
+He looked up. By his eyes I could see that his thoughts had been far
+away.
+
+"What's the deep study?" I repeated.
+
+"I was just thinking, Harry; just thinking."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I was just thinking, Harry, that I would like to have about one hundred
+thousand dollars and about ten years' leisure."
+
+"That's a nice thought," I answered; "I could think that myself. What
+would you do with it?"
+
+"Do? Why, there is just one thing that I would do if I had that much
+money. I would solve the Blind Spot."
+
+This happened years ago while we were still in college. Many things have
+occurred since then. I am writing this on the verge of disaster. How
+little do we know! What was the idea that buzzed in the head of Hobart
+Fenton? He is concrete, physical, fearless. He is in South America. I
+have cabled to him and expect him as fast as steam can bring him. The
+great idea and discovery of the professor is a fact, not fiction. What
+is it? That I cannot answer. I have found it and I am a witness to its
+potency.
+
+Some law has been missed through the ages. It is inexorable and
+insidious; it is concrete. Out of the unknown comes terror. Through the
+love for the great professor I have pitted myself against it. From the
+beginning it has been almost hopeless. I remember that last digression
+in ethics. "The mystery of the occult may be solved. We are five-sensed.
+When we bring the thing down to the concrete we may understand."
+
+Sometimes I wonder at the Rhamda. Is he a man or a phantom? Does he
+control the Blind Spot? Is he the substance and the proof that was
+promised by Dr. Holcomb? Through what process and what laws did the
+professor acquire even his partial control over the phenomena? Where
+did the Rhamda and his beautiful companion come from? Who are they? And
+lastly--what was the idea that buzzed in the head of Hobart Fenton?
+
+When I look back now I wonder. I have never believed in fate. I do not
+believe in it now. Man is the master of his own destiny. We are cowards
+else. Whatever is to be known we should know it. One's duty is ever to
+one's fellows. Heads up and onward. I am not a brave man, perhaps, under
+close analysis; but once I have given my word I shall keep it. I have
+done my bit; my simple duty. Perhaps I have failed. In holding myself
+against the Blind Spot I have done no more than would have been done by
+a million others. I have only one regret. Failure is seldom rewarded. I
+had hoped that my life would be the last; I have a dim hope still. If I
+fail in the end, there must be still one more to follow.
+
+Understand I do not expect to die. It is the unknown that I am afraid
+of. I who thought that we knew so much have found it still so little.
+There are so many laws in the weave of Cosmos that are still unguessed.
+What is this death that we are afraid of? What is life? Can we solve it?
+Is it permissible? What is the Blind Spot? If Hobart Fenton is right it
+has nothing to do with death. If so, what is it?
+
+My pen is weak. I am weary. I am waiting for Hobart. Perhaps I shall not
+last. When he comes I want him to know my story. What he knows already
+will not hurt repeating. It is well that man shall have it; it may be
+that we shall both fail-there is no telling; but if we do the world can
+profit by our blunders and guide itself--perhaps to the mastery of the
+phenomenon that controls the Blind Spot.
+
+I ask you to bear with me. If I make a few mistakes or I am a bit loose,
+remember the stress under which I am writing. I shall try to be plain so
+that all may follow.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CHICK WATSON
+
+
+Now to go back.
+
+In due time we were both of us graduated from college. I went into the
+law and Hobart into engineering. We were both successful. There was
+not a thing to foreshadow that either of us was to be jerked from his
+profession. There was no adventure, but lots of work and reward in
+proportion.
+
+Perhaps I was a bit more fortunate. I was in love and Hobart was still
+a confirmed bachelor. It was a subject over which he was never done
+joking. It was not my fault. I was innocent. If the blame ran anywhere
+it would have to be placed upon that baby sister of his.
+
+It happened as it happened since God first made the maiden. One autumn
+Hobart and I started off for college. We left Charlotte at the gate a
+girl of fifteen years and ten times as many angles. I pulled one of her
+pigtails, kissed her, and told her I wanted her to get pretty. When we
+came home next summer I went over to pull the other pigtail. I did not
+pull it. I was met by the fairest young woman I had ever looked on. And
+I could not kiss her. Seriously, was I to blame?
+
+Now to the incident.
+
+It was a night in September. Hobart had completed his affairs and had
+booked passage to South America. He was to sail next morning. We had
+dinner that day with his family, and then came up to San Francisco for
+a last and farewell bachelor night. We could take in the opera together,
+have supper at our favourite cafe, and then turn in. It was a long hark
+back to our childhood; but for all that we were still boys together.
+
+I remember that night. It was our favourite opera--"Faust." It was the
+one piece that we could agree on. Looking back since, I have wondered at
+the coincidence. The old myth of age to youth and the subcurrent of sin
+with its stalking, laughing, subtle Mephistopheles. It is strange that
+we should have gone to this one opera on this one evening. I recall
+our coming out of the theatre; our minds thrilling to the music and the
+subtle weirdness of the theme.
+
+A fog had fallen--one of those thick, heavy, grey mists that sometimes
+come upon us in September. Into its sombre depths the crowd disappeared
+like shadows. The lights upon the streets blurred yellow. At the cold
+sheer contact we hesitated upon the pavement.
+
+I had on a light overcoat. Hobart, bound for the tropics, had no such
+protection. It was cold and miserable, a chill wind stirring from the
+north was unusually cutting. Hobart raised his collar and dug his hands
+into his pockets.
+
+"Brr," he muttered; "brr, some coffee or some wine. Something."
+
+The sidewalks were wet and slippery, the mists settling under the lights
+had the effect of drizzle. I touched Hobart's arm and we started across
+the street.
+
+"Brr is right," I answered, "and some wine. Notice the shadows, like
+ghosts."
+
+We were half across the street before he answered; then he stopped.
+
+"Ghosts! Did you say ghosts, Harry?" I noted a strange inflection in his
+voice. He stood still and peered into the fog bank. His stop was sudden
+and suggestive. Just then a passing taxicab almost caught us and we
+were compelled to dodge quickly. Hobart ducked out of the way and I
+side-stepped in another direction. We came up on the sidewalk. Again he
+peered into the shadow.
+
+"Confound that cab," he was saying, "now we have gone and missed him."
+
+He took off his hat and then put it back on his head. His favourite
+trick when bewildered. I looked up and down the street.
+
+"Didn't you see him? Harry! Didn't you see him? It was Rhamda Avec!"
+
+I had seen no one; that is to notice; I did not know the Rhamda. Neither
+did he.
+
+"The Rhamda? You don't know him."
+
+Hobart was puzzled.
+
+"No," he said; "I do not; but it was he, just as sure as I am a fat
+man."
+
+I whistled. I recalled the tale that was now a legend. The man had an
+affinity for the fog mist. To come out of "Faust" and to run into the
+Rhamda! What was the connection? For a moment we both stood still and
+waited.
+
+"I wonder--" said Hobart. "I was just thinking about that fellow
+tonight. Strange! Well, let's get something hot--some coffee."
+
+But it had given us something for discussion. Certainly it was unusual.
+During the past few days I had been thinking of Dr. Holcomb; and for the
+last few hours the tale had clung with reiterating persistence. Perhaps
+it was the weirdness and the tremulous intoxication of the music. I was
+one of the vast majority who disbelieved it. Was it possible that it
+was, after all, other than the film of fancy? There are times when we
+are receptive; at that moment I could have believed it.
+
+We entered the cafe and chose a table slightly to the rear. It was
+a contrast to the cold outside; the lights so bright, the glasses
+clinking, laughter and music. A few young people were dancing. I sat
+down; in a moment the lightness and jollity had stirred my blood. Hobart
+took a chair opposite. The place was full of beauty. In the back of my
+mind blurred the image of Rhamda. I had never seen him; but I had read
+the description. I wondered absently at the persistence.
+
+I have said that I do not believe in fate. I repeat it. Man should
+control his own destiny. A great man does. Perhaps that is it. I am not
+great. Certainly it was circumstance.
+
+In the back part of the room at one of the tables was a young man
+sitting alone. Something caught my attention. Perhaps it was his
+listlessness or the dreamy unconcern with which he watched the dancers;
+or it may have been the utter forlornness of his expression. I noted his
+unusual pallor and his cast of dissipation, also the continual working
+of his long, lean fingers. There are certain set fixtures in the night
+life of any city. But this was not one. He was not an habitue. There was
+a certain greatness to his loneliness and his isolation. I wondered.
+
+Just then he looked up. By a mere coincidence our eyes met. He smiled,
+a weak smile and a forlorn one, and it seemed to me rather pitiful. Then
+as suddenly his glance wandered to the door behind me. Perhaps there
+was something in my expression that caught Hobart's attention. He turned
+about.
+
+"Say, Harry, who is that fellow? I know that face, I'm certain."
+
+"Come to think I have seen him myself. I wonder--"
+
+The young man looked up again. The same weary smile. He nodded. And
+again he glanced over my shoulder toward the door. His face suddenly
+hardened.
+
+"He knows us at any rate," I ventured.
+
+Now Hobart was sitting with his face toward the entrance. He could see
+anyone coming or going. Following the young man's glance he looked over
+my shoulder. He suddenly reached over and took me by the forearm.
+
+"Don't look round," he warned; "take it easy. As I said--on my honour as
+a fat man."
+
+The very words foretold. I could not but risk a glance. Across the room
+a man was coming down the aisle--a tall man, dark, and of a very decided
+manner. I had read his description many times; I had seen his likeness
+drawn by certain sketch artists of the city. They did not do him
+justice. He had a wonderful way and presence--you might say, magnetism.
+I noticed the furtive wondering glances that were cast, especially by
+the women. He was a handsome man beyond denying, about the handsomest I
+had ever seen. The same elusiveness.
+
+At first I would have sworn him to be near sixty; the next minute I was
+just as certain of his youth. There was something about him that could
+not be put to paper, be it strength, force or vitality; he was subtle.
+His step was prim and distinctive, light as shadow, in one hand
+he carried the red case that was so often mentioned. I breathed an
+exclamation.
+
+Hobart nodded.
+
+"Am I a fat man? The famous Rhamda! What say! Ah, ha! He has business
+with our wan friend yonder. See!"
+
+And it was so. He took a chair opposite the wan one. The young man
+straightened. His face was even more familiar, but I could not place
+him. His lips were set; in their grim line--determination; whatever his
+exhaustion there was still a will. Somehow one had a respect for this
+weak one; he was not a mere weakling. Yet I was not so sure that he
+was not afraid of the Rhamda. He spoke to the waiter. The Rhamda began
+talking. I noted the poise in his manner; it was not evil, rather was it
+calm--and calculating. He made an indication. The young man drew back.
+He smiled; it was feeble and weary, but for all of that disdainful.
+Though one had a pity for his forlornness, there was still an
+admiration. The waiter brought glasses.
+
+The young man swallowed his drink at a gulp, the other picked his up and
+sipped it. Again he made the indication. The youth dropped his hand upon
+the table, a pale blue light followed the movement of his fingers. The
+older man pointed. So that was their contention? A jewel? After all our
+phantom was material enough to desire possession; his solicitude was
+calmness, but for all that aggression. I could sense a battle, but the
+young man turned the jewel to the palm side of his fingers; he shook his
+head.
+
+The Rhamda drew up. For a moment he waited. Was it for surrender? Once
+he started to speak, but was cut short by the other. For all of his
+weakness there was spirit to the young man. He even laughed. The Rhamda
+drew out a watch. He held up two fingers. I heard Hobart mumble.
+
+"Two minutes. Well, I'm betting on the young one. Too much soul. He's
+not dead; just weary."
+
+He was right. At exactly one hundred and twenty seconds the Rhamda
+closed his watch. He spoke something. Again the young man laughed.
+He lit a cigarette; from the flicker and jerk of the flame he was
+trembling. But he was still emphatic. The other rose from the table,
+walked down the aisle and out of the building. The youth spread out both
+arms and dropped his head upon the table.
+
+It was a little drama enacted almost in silence. Hobart and I exchanged
+glances. The mere glimpse of the Rhamda had brought us both back to the
+Blind Spot. Was there any connection? Who was the young man with the
+life sapped out? I had a recollection of a face strangely familiar.
+Hobart interrupted my thoughts.
+
+"I'd give just about one leg for the gist of that conversation. That was
+the Rhamda; but who is the other ghost?"
+
+"Do you think it has to do with the Blind Spot?"
+
+"I don't think," averred Hobart. "I know. Wonder what's the time." He
+glanced at his watch. "Eleven thirty."
+
+Just here the young man at the table raised up his head. The cigarette
+was still between his fingers; he puffed lamely for a minute, taking a
+dull note of his surroundings. In the well of gaiety and laughter coming
+from all parts of the room his actions were out of place. He seemed
+dazed; unable to pull himself together. Suddenly he looked at us. He
+started.
+
+"He certainly knows us," I said. "I wonder--by George, he's coming
+over."
+
+Even his step was feeble. There was exertion about every move of his
+body, the wanness and effort of vanished vitality; he balanced himself
+carefully. Slowly, slowly, line by line his features became familiar,
+the underlines of another, the ghost of one departed. At first I could
+not place him. He held himself up for breath. Who was he? Then it
+suddenly came to me--back to the old days at college--an athlete, one of
+the best of fellows, one of the sturdiest of men! He had come to this!
+
+Hobart was before me.
+
+"By all the things that are holy!" he exclaimed. "Chick Watson! Here,
+have a seat. In the name of Heavens, Chick! What on earth--"
+
+The other dropped feebly into the chair. The body that had once been so
+powerful was a skeleton. His coat was a disguise of padding.
+
+"Hello, Hobart; hello, Harry," he spoke in a whisper. "Not much like the
+old Chick, am I? First thing, I'll take some brandy."
+
+It was almost tragic. I glanced at Hobart and nodded to the waiter.
+Could it be Chick Watson? I had seen him a year before, hale, healthy,
+prosperous. And here he was--a wreck!
+
+"No," he muttered, "I'm not sick--not sick. Lord, boys, it's good to
+meet you. I just thought I would come out for this one last night, hear
+some music, see a pretty face, perhaps meet a friend. But I am afraid--"
+He dropped off like one suddenly drifting into slumber.
+
+"Hustle that waiter," I said to Hobart. "Hurry that brandy."
+
+The stimulant seemed to revive him. He lifted up suddenly. There was
+fear in his eyes; then on seeing himself among friends--relief. He
+turned to me.
+
+"Think I'm sick, don't you?" he asked.
+
+"You certainly are," I answered.
+
+"Well, I'm not."
+
+For a moment silence. I glanced at Hobart. Hobart nodded.
+
+"You're just about in line for a doctor, Chick, old boy," I said. "I'm
+going to see that you have one. Bed for you, and the care of mother--"
+
+He started; he seemed to jerk himself together.
+
+"That's it, Harry; that's what I wanted. It's so hard for me to think.
+Mother, mother! That's why I came downtown. I wanted a friend. I have
+something for you to give to mother."
+
+"Rats," I said. "I'll take you to her. What are you talking about?"
+
+But he shook his head.
+
+"I wish that you were telling the truth, Harry. But it's no use--not
+after tonight. All the doctors in the world could not save me. I'm not
+sick, boys, far from it."
+
+Hobart spoke up.
+
+"What is it, Chick? I have a suspicion. Am I right?"
+
+Chick looked up; he closed his eyes.
+
+"All right, Hobart, what's your suspicion?"
+
+Fenton leaned over. It seemed to me that he was peering into the other's
+soul. He touched his forearm.
+
+"Chick, old boy, I think I know. But tell me. Am I right? It's the Blind
+Spot."
+
+At the words Watson opened his eyes; they were full of hope and wonder,
+for a moment, and then, as suddenly of a great despair. His body went to
+a heap. His voice was feeble.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "I am dying--of the Blind Spot"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE RING
+
+
+It was a terrible thing; death stalking out of the Blind Spot. We had
+almost forgotten. It had been a story hitherto--a wonderful one to be
+sure, and one to arouse conjecture. I had never thought that we were to
+be brought to its shivering contact. It was out of the occult; it had
+been so pronounced by the professor; a great secret of life holding out
+a guerdon of death to its votaries. Witness Chick Watson, the type of
+healthy, fighting manhood--come to this. He opened his eyes feebly; one
+could see the light; the old spirit was there--fighting for life. What
+was this struggle of soul and flesh? Why had the soul hung on? He made
+another effort.
+
+"More drink," he asked; "more drink. Anything to hold me together. I
+must tell you. You must take my place and--and--fight the Blind Spot!
+Promise that--"
+
+"Order the drinks," I told Hobart. "I see Dr. Hansen over there. Even if
+we cannot save him we must hold him until we get his story."
+
+I went and fetched Hansen over.
+
+"A strange case," he murmured. "Pulse normal; not a trace of fever. Not
+sick, you say--" Hobart pointed to his head. "Ah, I see! I would suggest
+home and a bed."
+
+Just here Watson opened his eyes again. They rested first upon the
+doctor, then upon myself, and finally upon the brandy. He took it up and
+drank it with eagerness. It was his third one; it gave him a bit more
+life.
+
+"Didn't I tell you, boys, that there is not a doctor on earth that
+can save me? Excuse me, doc. I am not sick. I told them. I am far past
+physic; I have gone beyond medicine. All I ask is stimulant and life
+enough to tell my story."
+
+"My boy," asked the doctor kindly, "what ails you?"
+
+Watson smiled. He touched himself on the forehead.
+
+"Up here, doc. There are things in the world with which we may not
+tamper. I tried it. Somebody had to do it and somebody has to do it yet.
+You remember Dr. Holcomb; he was a great man; he was after the secret of
+life. He began it."
+
+Dr. Hansen started.
+
+"Lord!" he exclaimed, looking at us all; "you don't mean this man is
+mixed up in the Blind Spot?"
+
+We nodded. Watson smiled; again he dropped back into inertia; the speech
+he had made was his longest yet; the brandy was coming into effect.
+
+"Give him brandy," the doctor said; "it's as good as anything. It will
+hold him together and give him life for a while. Here." He reached into
+his pocket and flicked something into the glass. "That will help him.
+Gentlemen, do you know what it means? I had always thought! I knew Dr.
+Holcomb! Crossing over the border! It may not be done! The secret of
+life is impossible. Yet--"
+
+Watson opened his eyes again; his spirit seemed suddenly to flicker into
+defiance.
+
+"Who said it was impossible? Who said it? Gentlemen, it IS possible. Dr.
+Holcomb--pardon me. I do not wish to appear a sot; but this brandy is
+about the only thing to hold me together. I have only a few hours left."
+
+He took the glass, and at one gulp downed the contents. I do not know
+what the doctor had dropped into it. Chick revived suddenly, and a
+strange light blazed up in his eyes, like life rekindled.
+
+"Ah, now I am better. So?"
+
+He turned to us all; then to the doctor.
+
+"So you say the secret of life is impossible?"
+
+"I--"
+
+Chick smiled wanly. "May I ask you: what it is that has just flared up
+within me? I am weak, anaemic, fallen to pieces; my muscles have lost
+the power to function, my blood runs cold, I have been more than two
+feet over the border. And yet--a few drinks of brandy, of stimulants,
+and you have drawn me back, my heart beats strongly, for an hour. By
+means of drugs you have infused a new life--which of course is the
+old--and driven the material components of my body into correlation. You
+are successful for a time; so long as nature is with you; but all the
+while you are held aghast by the knowledge that the least flaw, the
+least disarrangement, and you are beaten.
+
+"It is your business to hold this life or what you may. When it has
+gone your structures, your anatomy, your wonderful human machine is
+worthless. Where has it come from? Where has it gone? I have drunk four
+glasses of brandy; I have a lease of four short hours. Ordinarily it
+would bring reaction; it is poison, to be sure; but it is driving back
+my spirit, giving me life and strength enough to tell my story--in the
+morning I shall be no more. By sequence I am a dead man already. Four
+glasses of brandy; they are speaking. Whence comes this affinity of
+substance and of shadow?"
+
+We all of us listened, the doctor most of all. "Go on," he said.
+
+"Can't you see?" repeated Watson. "There is affinity between substance
+and shadow; and therefore your spirit or shadow or what you will is
+concrete, is in itself a substance. It is material just as much as you
+are. Because you do not see it is no proof that it is not substance.
+That pot palm yonder does not see you; it is not blessed with eyes."
+
+The doctor looked at Watson; he spoke gently.
+
+"This is very old stuff, my boy, out of your abstract philosophy. No man
+knows the secret of life. Not even yourself."
+
+The light in Watson's eyes grew brighter, he straightened; he began
+slipping the ring from his finger.
+
+"No," he answered. "I don't. I have tried and it was like playing with
+lightning. I sought for life and it is giving me death. But there is one
+man living who has found it."
+
+"And this man?"
+
+"Is Dr. Holcomb!"
+
+We all of us started. We had every one given the doctor up as dead. The
+very presence of Watson was tragedy. We did not doubt that he had been
+through some terrible experience. There are things in the world that may
+not be unriddled. Some power, some sinister thing was reaching for his
+vitality. What did he know about the professor? Dr. Holcomb had been a
+long time dead.
+
+"Gentlemen. You must hear my story; I haven't long to tell it. However,
+before I start here is a proof for a beginning."
+
+He tossed the ring upon the table.
+
+It was Hobart who picked it up. A beautiful stone, like a sapphire; blue
+but uncut and of a strange pellucid transparency--a jewel undoubtedly;
+but of a kind we have never seen. We all of us examined it, and were
+all, I am afraid, a bit disappointed. It was a stone and nothing else.
+
+Watson watched us. The waiter had brought more brandy, and Watson was
+sipping it, not because he liked it, he said, but just to keep himself
+at the proper lift.
+
+"You don't understand it, eh? You see nothing? Hobart, have you a match?
+There, that's it; now give me the ring. See--" He struck the match and
+held the flame against the jewel. "Gentlemen, there is no need for me
+to speak. The stone will give you a volume. It's not trickery, I assure
+you, but fact. There, now, perfect. Doctor, you are the sceptic. Take a
+look at the stone."
+
+The doctor picked it up casually and held it up before his eyes. At
+first he frowned; then came a look of incredulity; his chin dropped and
+he rose in his chair.
+
+"My God," he exclaimed, "the man's living! It--he--"
+
+But Hobart and I had crowded over. The doctor held the ring so we could
+see it. Inside the stone was Dr. Holcomb!
+
+It was a strenuous moment, and the most incredible. We all of us
+knew the doctor. It was not a photograph, nor a likeness; but the man
+himself. It was beyond all reason that he could be in the jewel; indeed
+there was only the head visible; one could catch the expression of life,
+the movements of the eyelids. Yet how could it be? What was it? It was
+Hobart who spoke first.
+
+"Chick," he asked, "what's the meaning? Were it not for my own eyes I
+would call it impossible. It's absurd on the face. The doctor! Yet I can
+see him--living. Where is he?"
+
+Chick nodded.
+
+"That's the whole question. Where is he? I know and yet I know nothing.
+You are now looking into the Blind Spot. The doctor sought the secret of
+life--and found it. He was trapped by his own wisdom!"
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE NERVINA
+
+
+For a moment we were silent. The jewel reposed upon the table. What was
+the secret of its phenomena? I could think of nothing in science that
+would explain it. How had Watson come into its possession? What was the
+tale he had to tell? The lean, long finger that clutched for brandy!
+What force was this that had driven him to such a verge? He was
+resigned; though he was defiant he had already conceded his surrender.
+Dr. Hansen spoke.
+
+"Watson," he asked, "what do you know about the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+We all turned to Chick. Hobart ordered more brandy. The doctor's eyes
+went to slits. I could not but wonder.
+
+"Chick," I asked, "who is Rhamda Avec?"
+
+Watson turned.
+
+"You saw him a few minutes ago? You saw him with me? Let me ask you."
+
+"Yes," I answered, "I saw him. Most people did. Is he invisible? Is he
+really the phantom they say?"
+
+Somehow the mention of the name made him nervous; he looked cautiously
+about the room.
+
+"That I don't know, Harry. It--If I can only get my wits together. Is he
+a phantom? Yes, I think so. I can't understand him. At least, he has the
+powers we attribute to an apparition. He is strange and unaccountable.
+Sometimes you see him, sometimes you don't. The first known of him was
+on the day Professor Holcomb was to deliver his lecture on the Blind
+Spot. He was tracked, you know, to the very act. Then came in the
+Nervina."
+
+"And who is the Nervina?"
+
+Watson looked at me blankly.
+
+"The Nervina?" he asked, "The Nervina--what do you know about the
+Nervina?"
+
+"Nothing. You mentioned her just now."
+
+His mind seemed to ramble. He looked about the room rather fearfully.
+Perhaps he was afraid.
+
+"Did I mention her? I don't know, Harry, my wits are muddled. The
+Nervina? She is a goddess. Never was and never will be woman. She loves;
+she never hates, and still again she does not love. She is beautiful;
+too beautiful for man. I've quit trying."
+
+"Is she Rhamda's wife?"
+
+His eyes lit fire.
+
+"No!"
+
+"Do you love her?"
+
+He went blank again; but at last he spoke slowly.
+
+"No, I don't love her. What's the use? She's not for me. I did; but I
+learned better. I was after the professor--and the Blind Spot. She--"
+
+Again that look of haunted pursuit. He glanced about the room. Whatever
+had been his experience, it was plain that he had not given up. He held
+something and he held it still. What was it?
+
+"You say you didn't find the Blind Spot?"
+
+"No, I did not find it."
+
+"Have you any idea?"
+
+"My dear Harry," he answered, "I am full of ideas. That's the trouble.
+I am near it. It's the cause of my present condition. I don't know just
+what it is nor where. A condition, or a combination of phenomena. You
+remember the lecture that was never delivered? Had the doctor spoken
+that morning the world would have had a great fact. He had made a great
+discovery. It is a terrible thing." He turned the ring so we could all
+see it--beyond all doubt it was the doctor. "There he is--the professor.
+If he could only speak. The secret of the ages. Just think what it
+means. Where is he? I have taken that jewel to the greatest lapidaries
+and they have one and all been startled. Then they all come to the same
+conclusion--trickery--Chinese or Hindu work, they say; most of them want
+to cut."
+
+"Have you taken it to the police?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I would simply be laughed at."
+
+"Have you ever reported this Rhamda?"
+
+"A score of times. They have come and sought; but every time he has gone
+out--like a shadow. It's got to be an old story now. If you call them up
+and tell them they laugh."
+
+"How do you account for it?"
+
+"I don't. I--I--I'm just dying."
+
+"And not one member of the force--surely?"
+
+"Oh, yes. There's one. You have heard of Jerome. Jerome followed the
+professor and the Rhamda to the house of the Blind Spot, as he calls it.
+He's not a man to fool. He had eyes and he saw it. He will not leave it
+till he's dead."
+
+"But he did not see the Blind Spot, did he? How about trickery? Did it
+ever occur to you that the professor might have been murdered?"
+
+"Take a look at that, Harry. Does that look like murder? When you see
+the man living?"
+
+Watson reached over and turned up the jewel.
+
+Here Hobart came in.
+
+"Just a minute, Chick. My wise friend here is an attorney. He's always
+the first into everything, especially conversation. It's been my job
+pulling Harry out of trouble. Just one question."
+
+"All right."
+
+"Didn't you--er--keep company, as they say, with Bertha Holcomb while at
+college?"
+
+A kind look came into the man's eyes; he nodded; his whole face was soft
+and saddened.
+
+"I see. That naturally brought you to the Blind Spot. You are after her
+father. Am I correct?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"All right. Perhaps Bertha has taken you into some of her father's
+secrets. He undoubtedly had data on this Blind Spot. Have you ever been
+able to locate it?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"I see. This Rhamda? Has he ever sought that data?"
+
+"Many, many times."
+
+"Does he know you haven't got it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"So. I understand. You hold the whip hand through your ignorance. Rhamda
+is your villain--and perhaps this Nervina? Who is she?"
+
+"A goddess."
+
+Hobart smiled.
+
+"Oh, yes!" He laughed. "A goddess. Naturally! They all are. There are
+about forty in this room at the present moment, my dear fellow. Watch
+them dance!"
+
+Now I had picked up the ring. It just fitted the natural finger. I tried
+it on and looked into the jewel. The professor was growing dimmer. The
+marvellous blue was returning, a hue of fascination; not the hot flash
+of the diamond, but the frozen light of the iceberg. It was frigid,
+cold, terrible, blue, alluring. To me at the moment it seemed alive and
+pulselike. I could not account for it. I felt the lust for possession.
+Perhaps there was something in my face. Watson leaned over and touched
+me on the arm.
+
+"Harry," he asked, "do you think you can stand up under the burden? Will
+you take my place?"
+
+I looked into his eyes; in their black depths was almost entreaty. How
+haunting they were, and beseeching.
+
+"Will you take my place?" he begged. "Are you willing to give up all
+that God gives to the fortunate? Will you give up your practice? Will
+you hold out to the end? Never surrender? Will--"
+
+"You mean will I take this ring?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Exactly. But you must know beforehand. It would be murder to give it to
+you without the warning. Either your death or that of Dr. Holcomb. It is
+not a simple jewel. It defies description. It takes a man to wear it.
+It is subtle and of destruction; it eats like a canker; it destroys the
+body; it frightens the soul--"
+
+"An ominous piece of finery," I spoke. "Wherein--"
+
+But Watson interrupted. There was appeal in his eyes.
+
+"Harry," he went on, "I am asking. Somebody has got to wear this ring.
+He must be a man. He must be fearless; he must taunt the devil. It is
+hard work, I assure you. I cannot last much longer. You loved the old
+doctor. If we get at this law we have done more for mankind than either
+of us may do with his profession. We must save the old professor. He
+is living and he is waiting. There are perils and forces that we do not
+know of. The doctor went at it alone and fearless; he succumbed to his
+own wisdom. I have followed after, and I have been crushed down--perhaps
+by my ignorance. I am not afraid. But I don't want my work to die.
+Somebody has got to take it on and you are the man."
+
+They were all of them looking at me. I studied the wonderful blue
+and its light. The image of the great professor had dimmed almost
+completely. It was a sudden task and a great one. Here was a law; one of
+the great secrets of Cosmos. What was it? Somehow the lure caught into
+my vitals. I couldn't picture myself ever coming to the extremity of
+my companion. Besides, it was a duty. I owed it to the old doctor. It
+seemed somehow that he was speaking. Though Watson did the talking I
+could feel him calling. Would I be afraid? Besides, there was the jewel.
+It was calling; already I could feel it burning into my spirit. I looked
+up.
+
+"Do you take it, Harry?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"I do. God knows I am worthless enough. I'll take it up. It may give me
+a chance to engage with this famous Rhamda."
+
+"Be careful of Rhamda, Harry. And above all don't let him have the
+ring."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because. Now listen. I'm not laying this absolutely, understand.
+Nevertheless the facts all point in one direction. Hold the ring.
+Somewhere in that lustre lies a great secret; it controls the Blind
+Spot. The Rhamda himself may not take it off your finger. You are immune
+from violence. Only the ring itself may kill you."
+
+He coughed.
+
+"God knows," he spoke, "it has killed me."
+
+It was rather ominous. The mere fact of that cough and his weakness was
+enough. One would come to this. He had warned me, and he had besought me
+with the same voice as the warning.
+
+"But what is the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Then you take the ring? What is the time? Twelve. Gentlemen--"
+
+Now here comes in one of the strange parts of my story--one that I
+cannot account for. Over the shoulder of Dr. Hansen I could watch the
+door. Whether it was the ring or not I do not know. At the time I did
+not reason. I acted upon impulse. It was an act beyond good breeding. I
+had never done such a thing before. I had never even seen the woman.
+
+The woman? Why do I say it? She was never a woman--she was a girl--far,
+far transcendent. It was the first time I had ever seen her--standing
+there before the door. I had never beheld such beauty, such profile,
+poise--the witching, laughing, night-black of her eyes; the perfectly
+bridged nose and the red, red lips that smiled, it seemed to me, in
+sadness. She hesitated, and as if puzzled, lifted a jewelled hand to
+her raven mass of hair. To this minute I cannot account for my action,
+unless, perchance, it was the ring. Perhaps it was. Anyway I had risen.
+
+How well do I remember.
+
+It seemed to me that I had known her a long, long time. There was
+something about her that was not seduction; but far, far above it.
+Somewhere I had seen her, had known her. She was looking and she was
+waiting for me. There was something about her that was super feminine. I
+thought it then, and I say it now.
+
+Just then her glance came my way. She smiled, and nodded; there was a
+note of sadness in her voice.
+
+"Harry Wendel!"
+
+There is no accounting for my action, nor my wonder; she knew me. Then
+it was true! I was not mistaken! Somewhere I had seen her. I felt a
+vague and dim rush of dreamy recollections. Ah, that was the answer! She
+was a girl of dreams and phantoms. Even then I knew it; she was not
+a woman; not as we conceive her; she was some materialisation out of
+Heaven. Why do I talk so? Ah! this strange beauty that is woman! From
+the very first she held me in the thrall that has no explanation.
+
+"Do we dance?" she asked simply.
+
+The next moment I had her in my arms and we were out among the dancers.
+That my actions were queer and entirely out of reason never occurred
+to me. There was a call about her beautiful body and in her eyes that
+I could not answer. There was a fact between us, some strange bond
+that was beyond even passion. I danced, and in an extreme emotion of
+happiness. A girl out of the dreams and the ether--a sprig of life woven
+out of the moonbeams!
+
+"Do you know me?" she asked as we danced.
+
+"Yes," I answered, "and no. I have seen you; but I do not remember; you
+come from the sunshine."
+
+She laughed prettily.
+
+"Do you always talk like this?"
+
+"You are out of my dreams," I answered: "it is sufficient. But who are
+you?"
+
+She held back her pretty head and looked at me; her lips drooped
+slightly at the corners, a sad smile, and tender, in the soft wonderful
+depths of her eyes--a pity.
+
+"Harry," she asked, "are you going to wear this ring?"
+
+So that was it. The ring and the maiden. What was the bond? There was
+weirdness in its colour, almost cabalistic--a call out of the occult.
+The strange beauty of the girl, her remarkable presence, and her
+concern. Whoever and whatever she was her anxiety was not personal. In
+some way she was woven up with this ring and poor Watson.
+
+"I think I shall," I answered.
+
+Again the strange querulous pity and hesitation; her eyes grew darker,
+almost pleading.
+
+"You won't give it to me?"
+
+How near I came to doing it I shall not tell. It would be hard to say
+it. I knew vaguely that she was playing; that I was the plaything. It is
+hard for a man to think of himself as being toyed with. She was certain;
+she was confident of my weakness. It was resentment, perhaps, and pride
+of self that gave the answer.
+
+"I think I shall keep it."
+
+"Do you know the danger, Harry? It is death to wear it. A thousand
+perils--"
+
+"Then I shall keep it. I like peril. You wish for the ring. If I keep it
+I may have you. This is the first time I have danced with the girl out
+of the moonbeams."
+
+Her eyes snapped, and she stopped dancing. I don't think my words
+displeased her. She was still a woman.
+
+"Is this final? You're a fine young man, Mr. Wendel. I know you. I
+stepped in to save you. You are playing with something stranger than the
+moonbeams. No man may wear that ring and hold to life. Again, Harry, I
+ask you; for your own sake."
+
+At this moment we passed Watson. He was watching; as our eyes glanced
+he shook his head. Who was this girl? She was as beautiful as sin and as
+tender as a virgin. What interest had she in myself?
+
+"That's just the reason," I laughed. "You are too interested. You are
+too beautiful to wear it. I am a man; I revel in trouble; you are a
+girl. It would not be honourable to allow you to take it. I shall keep
+it."
+
+She had overreached herself, and she knew it. She bit her lip. But she
+took it gracefully; so much so, in fact, that I thought she meant it.
+
+"I'm sorry," she answered slowly. "I had hopes. It is terrible to look
+at Watson and then to think of you. It is, really"--a faint tremor ran
+through her body; her hand trembled--"it is terrible. You young men are
+so unafraid. It's too bad."
+
+Just then the door was opened; outside I could see the bank of fog;
+someone passed. She turned a bit pale.
+
+"Excuse me. I must be going. Don't you see I'm sorry--"
+
+She held out her hand--the same sad little smile. On the impulse of the
+moment, unmindful of place, I drew it to my lips and kissed it. She was
+gone.
+
+I returned to the table. The three men were watching me: Watson
+analytically, the doctor with wonder, and Hobart with plain disgust.
+Hobart spoke first.
+
+"Nice for sister Charlotte, eh, Harry?"
+
+I had not a word to say. In the full rush of the moment I knew that he
+was right. It was all out of reason. I had no excuse outside of sheer
+insanity--and dishonour. The doctor said nothing. It was only in
+Watson's face that there was a bit of understanding.
+
+"Hobart," he said, "I have told you. It is not Harry's fault. It is the
+Nervina. No man may resist her. She is beauty incarnate; she weaves
+with the hearts of men, and she loves no one. It is the ring. She, the
+Rhamda, the Blind Spot, and the ring. I have never been able to unravel
+them. Please don't blame Harry. He went to her even as I. She has but
+to beckon. But he kept the ring. I watched them. This is but the
+beginning."
+
+But Hobart muttered: "She's a beauty all right--a beauty. That's the
+rub. I know Harry--I know him as a brother, and I want him so in fact.
+But I'd hate to trust that woman."
+
+Watson smiled.
+
+"Never fear, Hobart, your sister is safe enough. The Nervina is not a
+woman. She is not of the flesh."
+
+"Brr," said the doctor, "you give me the creeps."
+
+Watson reached for the brandy; he nodded to the doctor.
+
+"Just a bit more of that stuff if you please. Whatever it is, on the
+last night one has no fear of habit. There--Now, gentlemen, if you will
+come with me, I shall take you to the house of the Blind Spot."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+"NOW THERE ARE THREE"
+
+
+I shall never forget that night. When we stepped to the pavement the
+whole world was shrouded. The heavy fog clung like depression; life
+was gone out--a foreboding of gloom and disaster. It was cold, dank,
+miserable; one shuddered instinctively and battered against the wall
+with steaming columns of breath. Just outside the door we were detained.
+
+"Dr. Hansen?"
+
+Someone stepped beside us.
+
+"Dr. Hansen?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"A message, sir."
+
+The doctor made a gesture of impatience.
+
+"Bother!" he spoke. "Bother! A message. Nothing in the world would stop
+me! I cannot leave."
+
+Nevertheless he stepped back into the light.
+
+"Just a minute, gentlemen."
+
+He tore open the envelope. Then he looked up at the messenger and then
+at us. His face was startled--almost frightened.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I am sorry. Not a thing in the world would detain
+me but this. I would go with you, but I may not. My duty as a physician.
+I had hopes." He came over to me and spoke softly. "I am going to send
+you one of the greatest specialists in the city in my stead. This young
+man should have attention. Have you the address?"
+
+"288 Chatterton Place," I answered.
+
+"Very well. I am sorry, very much disappointed. However, it is
+my daughter, and I cannot do otherwise. Continue the brandy for a
+while--and this." He slipped an envelope into my hand. "By that time Dr.
+Higgins will be with you."
+
+"You think there is hope?" I asked.
+
+"There's always hope," replied the doctor.
+
+I returned to my companions. They were walking slowly. It was work for
+poor Watson. He dragged on, leaning on Hobart's arm. But at last he gave
+up.
+
+"No," he said, "I can't make it. I'm too far gone. I had thought--Oh,
+what a lapse it has been! I am eighty years of age; one year ago I was
+a boy. If only I had some more brandy. I have some at the house. We must
+make that. I must show you; there I can give you the details."
+
+"Hail a cab," I said. "Here's one now."
+
+A few minutes later we were before the House of the Blind Spot. It was a
+two storey drab affair, much like a thousand others, old-fashioned, and
+might have been built in the early nineties. It had been outside of the
+fire limits of 1906, and so had survived the great disaster. Chatterton
+Place is really a short street running lengthwise along the summit of
+the hill. A flight of stone steps descended to the pavement.
+
+Watson straightened up with an effort.
+
+"This is the house," he spoke. "I came here a year ago. I go away
+tonight. I had hoped to find it. I promised Bertha. I came alone. I had
+reasons to believe I had solved it. I found the Rhamda and the Nervina.
+I had iron will and courage--also strength. The Rhamda was never able
+to control me. My life is gone but not my will. Now I have left him
+another. Do not surrender, Harry. It is a gruesome task; but hold on
+to the end. Help me up the steps. There now. Just wait a minute till I
+fetch a stimulant."
+
+He did not ring for a servant. That I noticed. Instead he groped about
+for a key, unlocked the door and stumbled into a room. He fumbled for a
+minute among some glasses.
+
+"Will you switch on a light?" he asked.
+
+Hobart struck a match; when he found it he pressed the switch.
+
+The room in which we were standing was a large one, fairly well
+furnished, and lined on two sides with bookshelves; in the centre was an
+oak table cluttered with papers, a couple of chairs, and on one of them,
+a heavy pipe, which, somehow, I did not think of as Watson's. He noticed
+my look.
+
+"Jerome's," he explained. "We live here--Jerome, the detective, and
+myself. He has been here since the day of the doctor's disappearance. I
+came here a year ago. He is in Nevada at present. That leaves me alone.
+You will notice the books, mostly occult: partly mine, partly the
+detective's. We have gone at it systematically from the beginning.
+We have learned almost everything but what would help us. Mostly
+sophistry--and guesswork. Beats all how much ink has been wasted to say
+nothing. We were after the Blind Spot."
+
+"But what is it? Is it in this house?"
+
+"I can answer one part of your question," he answered, "but not the
+other. It is here somewhere, in some place. Jerome is positive of that.
+You remember the old lady? The one who died? Her actions were rather
+positive even if feeble. She led Jerome to this next room." He turned
+and pointed; the door was open. I could see a sofa and a few chairs;
+that was all.
+
+"It was in here. The bell. Jerome never gets tired of telling. A church
+bell. In the centre of the room. At first I didn't believe; but now I
+accept it all. I know, but what I know is by intuition."
+
+"Sort of sixth sense?'
+
+"Yes. Or foresight."
+
+"You never saw this bell nor found it? Never were able to arrive at an
+explanation?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How about the Rhamda? The Nervina? Do they come to this house?"
+
+"Not often."
+
+"How do they come in? Through the window?"
+
+He smiled rather sadly. "I don't know. At least they come. You shall see
+them yourself. The Rhamda still has something to do with Dr. Holcomb.
+Somehow his very concern tells me the doctor is safe. Undoubtedly
+the professor made a great discovery. But he was not alone. He had
+a co-worker--the Rhamda. For reasons of his own the Rhamda wishes to
+control the Blind Spot."
+
+"Then the professor is in this Blind Spot?"
+
+"We think so. At least it is our conjecture. We do not know."
+
+"Then you don't think it trickery?"
+
+"No, hardly. Harry, you know better than that. Can you imagine the great
+doctor the dupe of a mere trickster? The professor was a man of great
+science and was blessed with an almighty sound head. But he had one
+weakness."
+
+Hobart spoke up.
+
+"What is it, Chick? I think I know what you mean. The old boy was
+honest?"
+
+"Exactly. He had been a scholar all his life. He taught ethics. He
+believed in right. He practised his creed. When he came to the crucial
+experiment he found himself dealing with a rogue. The Rhamda helped him
+just so far; but once he had the professor in his power it was not his
+purpose to release him until he was secure of the Blind Spot."
+
+"I see," I spoke. "The man is a villain. I think we can handle him."
+
+But Watson shook his head.
+
+"That's just it, Harry! The man! If he were a man I could have handled
+him in short order. That's what I thought at first. Don't make any
+mistake. Don't try violence. That's the whole crux of the difficulty. If
+he were only a man! Unfortunately, he is not."
+
+"Not a man!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? Then, what is he?"
+
+"He is a phantom."
+
+I glanced at Hobart and caught his eye. Hobart believed him! The poor
+pallid face of Watson, the athlete; there was nothing left to him but
+his soul! I shall not forget Watson as he sat there, his lean, long
+fingers grasping the brandy glass, his eyes burning and his life holding
+back from the pit through sheer will and courage. Would I come to this?
+Would I have the strength to measure up to his standard?
+
+Hobart broke the tension.
+
+"Chick's right. There is something in it, Harry. Not all the secrets of
+the universe have been unlocked by any means. Now, Chick, about details.
+Have you any data--any notes?"
+
+Watson rose. I could see he was grateful.
+
+"You believe me, don't you, Hobart? It is good. I had hoped to find
+someone, and I found you two. Harry, remember what I have told you. Hold
+the ring. You take my place. Whatever happens, stick out to the end. You
+have Hobart here to help you. Now just a minute. The library is here;
+you can look over my books. I shall return in a moment."
+
+He stepped out into the hall; we could hear his weary feet dragging down
+the hallway--a hollow sound and a bit uncanny. Somehow my mind rambled
+back to that account I had read in the newspaper--Jerome's story--"Like
+weary bones dragging slippers." And the old lady. Who was she? Why was
+everyone in this house pulled down to exhaustion--the words of the
+old lady, I could almost hear them; the dank air murmuring their
+recollection. "Now there are two. Now there are two!"
+
+"What's the matter, Harry?"
+
+Perhaps I was frightened. I do not know. I looked around. The sound of
+Watson's footsteps had died away; there was a light in the back of the
+building coming toward us.
+
+"Nothing! Only--damn this place, Hobart. Don't you notice it? It's
+enough to eat your heart out."
+
+"Rather interesting," said Hobart. It was too interesting for me. I
+stepped over to the shelves and looked at the titles. Sanskrit and
+Greek; German and French--the Vedas, Sir Oliver Lodge, Besant, Spinoza,
+a conglomeration of all ages and tongues; a range of metaphysics that
+was as wide as Babel, and about as enlightening. As Babel? Over my
+shoulders came the strangest sound of all, weak, piping, tremulous,
+fearful--"Now there are two. Now there are two." My heart gave a fearful
+leap. "Soon there will be three! Soon--"
+
+I turned suddenly about. I had a fearful thought. I looked at Hobart.
+A strange, insidious fear clutched at me. Was the thought intrinsic? If
+not, where had it come from? Three? I strained my ears to hear Watson's
+footsteps. He was in the back part of the building. I must have some
+air.
+
+"I'm going to open the door, Hobart," I spoke. "The front door, and look
+out into the street."
+
+"Don't blame you much. Feel a bit that way myself. About time for Dr.
+Higgins. Here comes Chick again. Take a look outside and see if the doc
+is coming."
+
+I opened the door and looked out into the dripping fog bank. What a pair
+of fools we were! We both knew it, and we were both seeking an excuse.
+In the next room through the curtains I could see the weak form of
+Watson; he was bearing a light.
+
+Suddenly the light went out.
+
+I was at high tension; the mere fact of the light was nothing, but it
+meant a world at that moment--a strange sound--a struggle--then the
+words of Watson--Chick Watson's:
+
+"Harry! Harry! Hobart! Harry! Come here! It's the Blind Spot!"
+
+It was in the next room. The despair of that call is unforgettable, like
+that of one suddenly falling into space. Then the light dropped to the
+floor. I could see the outlines of his figure and a weird, single string
+of incandescence. Hobart turned and I leaped. It was a blur, the form
+of a man melting into nothing. I sprang into the room, tearing down the
+curtains. Hobart was on top of me. But we were too late. I could
+feel the vibrancy of something uncanny as I rushed across the space
+intervening. Through my mind darted the thrill of terror. It had come
+suddenly, and in climax. It was over before it had commenced. The light
+had gone out. Only by the gleam from the other room could we make out
+each others' faces. The air was vibrant, magnetic. There was no Watson.
+But we could hear his voice. Dim and fearful, coming down the corridors
+of time.
+
+"Hold that ring, Harry! Hold that ring!" Then the faint despair out of
+the weary distance, faint, but a whole volume:
+
+"The Blind Spot!"
+
+It was over as quickly as that. The whole thing climaxed into an
+instant. It is difficult to describe. One cannot always analyse
+sensations. Mine, I am afraid, were muddled. A thousand insistent
+thoughts clashed through my brain. Horror, wonder, doubt! I have only
+one persistent and predominating recollection. The old lady! I could
+almost feel her coming out of the shadows. There was sadness and pity;
+out of the stillness and the corners. What had been the dirge of her
+sorrow?
+
+"NOW THERE ARE THREE!"
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+MAN OR PHANTOM
+
+
+It was Hobart who came to first. His voice was good to hear. It
+was natural; it was sweet and human, but it was pregnant with
+disappointment: "We are fools, Harry; we are fools!"
+
+But I could only stare. I remember saying: "The Blind Spot?"
+
+"Yes," returned Hobart, "the Blind Spot. But what is it? We saw him go.
+Did you see it?"
+
+"It gets me," I answered. "He just vanished into space. It--" Frankly I
+was afraid.
+
+"It tallies well with the reports. The old lady and Jerome. Remember?"
+
+"And the bell?" I looked about the room.
+
+"Exactly. Phenomena! Watson was right. I just wonder--but the bell?
+Remember the doctor? 'The greatest day since Columbus.' No, don't cross
+the room, Harry, I'm a bit leery: A great discovery! I should say it
+was. How do you account for it?"
+
+"Supernatural."
+
+Fenton shook his head.
+
+"By no means! It's the gateway to the universe--into Cosmos." His eyes
+sparkled. "My Lord, Harry! Don't you see! Once we control it. The Blind
+Spot! What is beyond? We saw Chick Watson go. Before our eyes. Where did
+he go to? It beats death itself."
+
+I started across the room, but Hobart caught me with both arms: "No, no,
+no, Harry. My Lord! I don't want to lose you. No! You foolhardly little
+cuss--stand back!"
+
+He threw me violently against the wall. The impact quite took my breath.
+
+On the instant the old rush of temper surged up in me. From boyhood we
+had these moments. Hobart settled himself and awaited the rush that he
+knew was coming. In his great, calm, brute strength there was still a
+greatness of love.
+
+"Harry," he was saying, "for the love of Heaven, listen to reason! Have
+we got to have a knock-down and drag-out on this of all nights? Have I
+got to lick you again? Do you want to roll into the Blind Spot?"
+
+Why did God curse me with such a temper? On such moments as this I could
+feel something within me snapping. It was fury and unreason. How I loved
+him! And yet we had fought a thousand times over just such provocation.
+Over his shoulders I could see the still open door that led into the
+street. A heavy form was looming through the opening; out of the corner
+of my eye I caught the lines of the form stepping out of the shadows--it
+crossed the room and stood beside Hobart Fenton. It was Rhamda Avec!
+
+I leaped. The fury of a thousand conflicts--and the exultation. For the
+glory of such moments it is well worth dying. One minute flying through
+the air--the old catapult tackle--and the next a crashing of bone
+and sinew. We rolled over, head on, and across the floor. Curses and
+execrations; the deep bass voice of Hobart:
+
+"Hold him, Harry! Hold him! That's the way! Hold him! Hold him!"
+
+We went crashing about the room. He was the slipperiest thing I had ever
+laid hold of. But he was bone--bone and sinew; he was a man! I remember
+the wild thrill of exultation at the discovery. It was battle! And
+death! The table went over, we went spinning against the wall, a crash
+of falling bookcases, books and broken glass, a scurry and a flying heap
+of legs and arms. He was wonderfully strong and active, like a panther.
+Each time I held him he would twist out like a cat, straighten, and
+throw me out of hold. I clung on, fighting, striving for a grip, working
+for the throat. He was a man--a man! I remembered that he must never get
+away. He must account for Watson.
+
+In the first rush I was a madman. The mere force of my onslaught had
+borne him down. But in a moment he had recovered and was fighting
+systematically. As much as he could he kept over on one side of me,
+always forcing me toward the inner room where Watson had disappeared. In
+spite of my fury he eluded every effort that I made for a vital part. We
+rolled, fought, struck and struggled.
+
+I could hear Hobart's bass thundering: "Over! Over! Under! Look out! Now
+you've got him! Harry! Harry! Look out! Hold him, for the love of Heaven
+I see his trick. That's his trick. The Blind Spot!"
+
+We were rolled clear over, picked, heaved, shoved against the front
+wall. There were three! The great heaving bulk of Fenton; the fighting
+tiger between us; and myself! Surely such strength was not human; we
+could not pin him; his quickness was uncanny; he would uncoil, twist
+himself and throw us loose. Gradually he worked us away from the front
+wall and into the centre of the room.
+
+Could any mere man fight so? Hobart was as good as a ton; I was as much
+for action. Slowly, slowly in spite of our efforts, he was working us
+towards the Blind Spot. Confident of success, he was over, around, and
+in and under. In a spin of a second he went into the attack. He fairly
+bore us off our feet. We were on the last inch of our line; the stake
+was--
+
+What was it? We all went down. A great volume of sound! We were inside
+a bell! My whole head buzzed to music and a roar; the whir of a thousand
+vibrations; the inside of sound. I fell face downwards; the room went
+black.
+
+What was it? How long I lay there I don't know. A dim light was burning.
+I was in a room. The ceiling overhead was worked in a grotesque pattern;
+I could not make it out. My clothes were in tatters and my hand was
+covered with blood. Something warm was trickling down my face. What was
+it? The air was still and sodden. Who was this man beside me? And what
+was this smell of roses?
+
+I lay still for a minute, thinking. Ah, yes! It came back. Watson--Chick
+Watson! The Blind Spot! The Rhamda and the bell!
+
+Surely it was a dream. How could all this be in one short night? It was
+like a nightmare and impossible. I raised up on my elbow and looked at
+the form beside me. It was Hobart Fenton. He was unconscious.
+
+For a moment my mind was whirring; I was too weak and unsteady. I
+dropped back and wondered absently at the roses. Roses meant
+perfume, and perfume meant a woman. What could--something touched my
+face--something soft; it plucked tenderly at my tangled hair and drew it
+away from my forehead. It was the hand of a woman!
+
+"You poor, foolish boy! You foolish boy!"
+
+Somewhere I had heard that voice; it held a touch of sadness; it was
+familiar; it was soft and silken like music that might have been woven
+out of the moonbeams. Who was it that always made me think of moonbeams?
+I lay still, thinking.
+
+"He dared; he dared; he dared!" she was saying. "As if there were not
+two! He shall pay for this! Am I to be a plaything? You poor boy!"
+
+Then I remembered. I looked up. It was the Nervina. She was stooping
+over with my head against her. How beautiful her eyes were! In their
+depths was a pathos and a tenderness that was past a woman's, the same
+slight droop at the corners of the mouth, and the wistfulness; her
+features were relaxed like a mother's--a wondrous sweetness and pity.
+
+"Harry," she asked, "where is Watson? Did he go?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Into the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Yes. What is the Blind Spot?"
+
+She ignored the question.
+
+"I am sorry" she answered. "So sorry. I would have saved him. And the
+Rhamda; was he here, too?"
+
+I nodded. Her eyes flashed wickedly.
+
+"And--and you--tell me, did you fight with the Rhamda? You--"
+
+"It was Watson," I interrupted. "This Rhamda is behind it all. He is the
+villain. He can fight like a tiger; whoever he is he can fight."
+
+She frowned slightly; she shook her head.
+
+"You young men," she said. "You young men! You are all alike! Why must
+it be? I am so sorry. And you fought with the Rhamda? You could not
+overcome him, of course. But tell me, how could you resist him? What did
+you do?"
+
+What did she mean? I had felt his flesh and muscle. He was a man. Why
+could he not be conquered--not be resisted?
+
+"I don't understand," I answered. "He is a man. I fought him. He was
+here. Let him account for Watson. We fought alone at first, until
+he tried to throw me into this Thing. Then Hobart stepped in. Once I
+thought we had him, but he was too slippery. He came near putting us
+both in. I don't know. Something happened--a bell."
+
+Her hand was on my arm, she clutched it tightly, she swallowed hard; in
+her eyes flashed the fire that I had noticed once before, the softness
+died out, and their glint was almost terrible.
+
+"He! The bell saved you? He would dare to throw you into the Blind
+Spot!"
+
+I lay back. I was terribly weak and uncertain. This beautiful woman!
+What was her interest in myself?
+
+"Harry," she spoke, "let me ask you. I am your friend. If you only knew!
+I would save you. It must not be. Will you give me the ring? If I could
+only tell you! You must not have it. It is death--yes, worse than death.
+No man may wear it."
+
+So that was it. Again and so soon I was to be tempted. Was her concern
+feigned or real? Why did she call me Harry? Why did I not resent it? She
+was wonderful; she was beautiful; she was pure. Was it merely a subtle
+act for the Rhamda? I could still hear Watson's voice ringing out of the
+Blind Spot; "Hold the ring! Hold the ring!" I could not be false to my
+friend.
+
+"Tell me first," I asked. "Who is this Rhamda? What is he? Is he a man?"
+
+"No."
+
+Not a man! I remembered Watson's words: "A phantom!" How could it be? At
+least I would find out what I could.
+
+"Then tell me, what is he?"
+
+"She smiled faintly; again the elusive tenderness lingered about her
+lips, the wistful droop at the corners.
+
+"That I may not tell you, Harry. You couldn't understand. If only I
+could."
+
+Certainly I couldn't understand her evasion. I studied and watched
+her--her wondrous hair, the perfection of her throat, the curve of her
+bosom.
+
+"Then he is supernatural."
+
+"No, not that, Harry. That would explain everything. One cannot go above
+Nature. He is living just as you are."
+
+I studied a moment.
+
+"Are you a woman?" I asked suddenly.
+
+Perhaps I should not have asked it; she was so sad and beautiful,
+somehow I could not doubt her sincerity. There was a burden at the
+back of her sadness, some great yearning unsatisfied, unattainable.
+She dropped her head. The hand upon my arm quivered and clutched
+spasmodically; I caught the least sound of a sob. When I looked up her
+eyes were wet and sparkling.
+
+"Oh," she said. "Harry, why do you ask it? A woman! Harry, a woman! To
+live and love and to be loved. What must it be? There is so much of life
+that is sweet and pure. I love it--I love it! I can have everything
+but the most exalted thing of all. I can live, see, enjoy, think, but I
+cannot have love. You knew it from the first. How did you know it? You
+said--Ah, it is true! I am out of the moonbeams." She controlled herself
+suddenly. "Excuse me," she said simply. "But you can never understand.
+May I have the ring?"
+
+It was like a dream--her beauty, her voice, everything. But I could
+still hear Watson. I was to be tempted, cajoled, flattered. What was
+this story out of the moonbeams? Certainly she was the most beautiful
+girl I had ever seen. Why had I asked such a question?
+
+"I shall keep the ring," I answered.
+
+She sighed. A strange weakness came over me; I was drowsy; I lapsed
+again into unconsciousness; just as I was fading away I heard her
+speaking: "I am so sorry!"
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+BAFFLED
+
+
+Was it a dream? The next I knew somebody was dousing water down my neck.
+It was Hobart Fenton. "Lord," he was saying, "I thought you were never
+coming to. What hit us? You are pretty well cut up. That was some fight.
+This Rhamda, who is he? Can you figure him out? Did you hear that bell?
+What was it?"
+
+I sat up. "Where is the Nervina?" I asked. "The who?" He was bewildered.
+"Oh, down at the cafe, I suppose. Thought you had forgotten her. Wasn't
+her mate enough? It might be healthy to forget his Nervina."
+
+He was a fine sight; his clothes were in ribbons; his plump figure was
+breaking out at the seams. He regarded me critically.
+
+"What d'you think of the Blind Spot?" he asked. "Who is the Rhamda? He
+put us out pretty easily."
+
+"But the girl?" I interrupted. "The girl? Confound it, the girl?"
+
+It was sometime before I could make him understand; even then he refused
+to believe me.
+
+"It was all a dream," he said; "all a dream."
+
+But I was certain.
+
+Fenton began prodding about the room. I do not believe any apartment was
+ever so thoroughly ransacked. We even tore up the carpet. When we were
+through he sat in the midst of the debris and wiped his forehead.
+
+"It's no use, Harry--no use. We might have known better. It can't be
+done. Yet you say you saw a string of incandescence."
+
+"A single string; the form of Watson; a blur--then nothing," I answered.
+
+He thought. He quoted the professor:
+
+"'Out of the occult I shall bring you the proof and the substance. It
+will be concrete--within the reach of your senses.' Isn't that what the
+doctor said?"
+
+"Then you believe Professor Holcomb?"
+
+"Why not? Didn't we see it? I know a deal of material science; but
+nothing like this. I always had faith in Dr. Holcomb. After all, it's
+not impossible. First we must go over the house thoroughly."
+
+We did. Most of all, we were interested in that bell. We did not think,
+either of us, that so much noise could come out of nothing. It was too
+material. The other we could credit to the occult; but not the sound. It
+had drowned our consciousness; perhaps it had saved us from the Rhamda.
+But we found nothing. We went over the house systematically. It was much
+as it had been previously described, only now a bit more furnished. The
+same dank, musty smell and the same suggestive silence. We returned to
+the lower floor and the library. It was a sorry sight. We straightened
+up the shelves and returned the books to their places.
+
+It was getting along toward morning. Hobart sailed at nine o'clock. We
+must have new clothing and some coffee; likewise we must collect our
+wits. I had the ring, and had given my pledge to Watson. I was muddled.
+We must get down to sane action. First of all we must return to our
+rooms.
+
+The fog had grown thicker; one could almost taste it. I couldn't
+suppress a shudder. It was cold, dank, repressive. Neither of us spoke
+a word on our way downtown. Hobart opened the door to our apartment; he
+turned on the lights.
+
+In a few moments we had hot, steaming cups of coffee. Still we did not
+speak. Hobart sat in his chair, his elbows on the table and his head
+between his hands. My thoughts ran back to that day in college when he
+said "I was just thinking, Harry, if I had one hundred thousand dollars,
+I would solve the Blind Spot."
+
+That was long ago. We had neither of us thought that we would come to
+the fact.
+
+"Well," I spoke, "have you got that hundred thousand dollars? You had an
+idea once."
+
+He looked up. "I've got it yet. I am not certain. It is merely a theory.
+But it's not impossible."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+He took another drink of coffee and settled back in his chair.
+
+"It is energy, Harry--force. Nothing but energy--and Nature."
+
+"Then it's not occult?" I asked.
+
+"Certainly it is. I didn't say that. It is what the professor promised.
+Something concrete for our senses. If the occult is, it can certainly be
+proven. The professor was right. It is energy, force, vibration. It has
+a law. The old doctor was caught somehow. We must watch our step and
+see that we aren't swallowed up also. Perhaps we shall go the way of
+Watson."
+
+I shuddered.
+
+"I hope not. But explain. You speak in volumes. Come back to earth."
+
+"That's easy, Harry. I can give you my theory in a few short words.
+You've studied physiology, haven't you? Well, that's where you can get
+your proof--or rather let me say my theory. What is the Blind Spot?"
+
+"In optics?"
+
+"We'll forgo that," he answered. "I refer to this one."
+
+I thought for a moment.
+
+"Well," I said, "I don't know. It was something I couldn't see. Watson
+went out before our eyes. He was lost."
+
+"Exactly. Do you get the point?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It is this. What you see is merely energy. Your eye is merely a
+machine. It catches certain colours. Which in turn are merely rates of
+vibration. There is nothing to matter but force, Harry; if we could get
+down deep enough and know a few laws, we could transmute it."
+
+"What has it to do with the occult?"
+
+"Merely a fact. The eye machine catches only certain vibration speeds of
+energy. There are undoubtedly any number of speeds; the eye cannot see
+them."
+
+"Then this would account for the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Exactly. A localised spot, a condition, a combination of phenomena,
+anything entering it becomes invisible."
+
+"Where does it go to?"
+
+"That's it. Where? It's one of the things that man has been guessing at
+down the ages. The professor is the first philosopher with sound sense.
+He went after it. It's a pity he was trapped."
+
+"By the Rhamda?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Hobart smiled.
+
+"How do I know? Where did he come from? If we knew that, we would know
+everything. 'A phantom,' so Watson says. If so, it only strengthens
+our theory. It would make a man and matter only a part of creation.
+Certainly it would clear up a lot of doubts."
+
+"And the ring?"
+
+"It controls the Blind Spot."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"That's for us to find out."
+
+"And Watson? He is in this land of doubt?"
+
+"At least he is in the Blind Spot. Let me try the ring."
+
+He struck a match.
+
+It was much as it had been in the restaurant, only a bit more startling.
+Then the blue faded, the colour went out, and it became transparent. For
+a moment. There was an effect of space and distance that I had not noted
+before, almost marvellous. If I could describe it at all, I would say
+a crystal corridor of a vastness that can scarcely be imagined. It
+made one dizzy, even in that bit of jewel: one lost proportion, it was
+height, distance, space immeasurable. For an instant. Then the whole
+thing blurred and clouded. Something passed across the face; the
+transparency turned to opaqueness, and then--two men. It was as sudden
+as a flash--the materialisation. There was no question. They were alive.
+Watson was with the professor.
+
+It was a strange moment. Only an hour before one of them had been
+with us. It was Watson, beyond a doubt. He was alive; one could almost
+believe him in the jewel. We had heard his story: "The screen of the
+occult; the curtain of shadow." We had seen him go. There was an element
+of horror in the thing, and of fascination. The great professor! The
+faithful Watson! Where had they gone?
+
+It was not until the colour had come back and the blue had regained its
+lustre that either of us looked up. Could such a thing be unravelled?
+Fenton turned the stone over thoughtfully. He shook his head.
+
+"In that jewel, Harry, lies the secret. I wish I knew a bit more about
+physics, light, force, energy, vibration. We have got to know."
+
+"Your theory?"
+
+"It still holds good."
+
+I thought.
+
+"Let me get it clear, Hobart. You say that we catch only certain
+vibrations."
+
+"That's it. Our eyes are instruments, nothing else. We can see light,
+but we cannot hear it. We hear sound, but we cannot see it. Of course
+they are not exactly parallel. But it serves the point. Let's go a
+bit further. The eye picks up certain vibrations. Light is nothing but
+energy vibrating at a tremendous speed. It has to be just so high for
+the eye to pick it up. A great deal we do not get. For instance, we can
+only catch one-twelfth of the solar spectrum. Until recently we have
+believed only what we could see. Science has pulled us out of the rut.
+It may pull us through the Blind Spot."
+
+"And beyond."
+
+Hobart held up his hands.
+
+"It is almost too much to believe. We have made a discovery. We must
+watch our step. We must not lose. The work of Dr. Holcomb shall not go
+for nothing."
+
+"And the ring?"
+
+He consulted his watch.
+
+"We have only a short time left. We must map our action. We have three
+things to work on--the ring, the house, Bertha Holcomb. It's all up to
+you, Harry. Find out all that is possible; but go slow. Trace down
+that ring; find out everything that you can. Go and see Bertha Holcomb.
+Perhaps she can give you some data. Watson said no; but perhaps you may
+uncover it. Take the ring to a lapidary; but don't let him cut it. Last
+of all, and most important, buy the house of the Blind Spot. Draw on me.
+Let me pay half, anyway."
+
+"I shall move into it," I answered.
+
+He hesitated a bit.
+
+"I am afraid of that," he answered. "Well, if you wish. Only be careful.
+Remember I shall return just as soon as I can get loose. If you feel
+yourself slipping or anything happens, send me a cable."
+
+The hours passed all too quickly. When day came we had our breakfast
+and hurried down to the pier. It was hard to have him go. His last words
+were like Hobart Fenton. He repeated the warning.
+
+"Watch your step, Harry; watch your step. Take things easy; be cautious.
+Get the house. Trace down the ring. Be sure of yourself. Keep me
+informed. If you need me, cable. I'll come if I have to swim."
+
+His last words; and not a year ago. It seems now like a lifetime. As I
+stood upon the pier and watched the ship slipping into the water, I felt
+it coming upon me. It had grown steadily, a gloom and oppression not to
+be thwarted; it is silent and subtle and past defining--like shadow. The
+grey, heavy heave of the water; the great hull of the steamer backing
+into the bay; the gloom of the fog bank. A few uncertain lines, the
+shrill of the siren, the mist settling; I was alone. It was isolation.
+
+I had been warned by Watson. But I had not guessed. At the moment
+I sensed it. It was the beginning. Out of my heart I could feel
+it--solitude.
+
+In the great and populous city I was to be alone, in all its teeming
+life I was to be a stranger. It has been almost a year--a year! It has
+been a lifetime. A breaking down of life!
+
+I have waited and fought and sought to conquer. One cannot fight against
+shadow. It is merciless and inexorable. There are secrets that may be
+locked forever. It was my duty, my pledge to Watson, what I owed to the
+professor. I have hung on grimly; what the end will be I do not know. I
+have cabled for Fenton.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+A DEAL IN PROPERTY
+
+
+But to return. There was work that I should do--much work if I was going
+after the solution. In the first place, there was the house. I turned
+my back to the waterfront and entered the city. The streets were packed,
+the commerce of man jostled and threaded along the highways; there was
+life and action, hope, ambition. It was what I had loved so well. Yet
+now it was different.
+
+I realised it vaguely, and wondered. This feeling of aloofness? It was
+intrinsic, coming from within, like the withering of one's marrow. I
+laughed at my foreboding; it was not natural; I tried to shake myself
+together.
+
+I had no difficulty with the records. In less than an hour I traced out
+the owners, "an estate," and had located the agent. It just so happened
+that he was a man with whom I had some acquaintance. We were not long in
+coming to business.
+
+"The house at No. 288 Chatterton Place?"
+
+I noticed that he was startled; there was a bit of wonder in his look--a
+quizzical alertness. He motioned me to a chair and closed the door.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Wendel; sit down. H-m! The house at No. 288 Chatterton
+Place? Did I hear you right?"
+
+Again I noted the wonder; his manner was cautious and curious. I nodded.
+
+"Want to buy it or just lease it? Pardon me, but you are sort of a
+friend. I would not like to lose your friendship for the sake of a mere
+sale. What is your--"
+
+"Just for a residence," I insisted. "A place to live in."
+
+"I see. Know anything about this place?"
+
+"Do you?"
+
+He fumbled with some papers. For an agent he did not strike me as being
+very solicitous for a commission.
+
+"Well," he said, "in a way, yes. A whole lot more than I'd like to. It
+all depends. One gets much from hearsay. What I know is mostly
+rumour." He began marking with a pencil. "Of course I don't believe it.
+Nevertheless I would hardly recommend it to a friend as a residence."
+
+"And these rumours?"
+
+He looked up; for a moment he studied; then:
+
+"Ever hear of the Blind Spot? Perhaps you remember Dr. Holcomb--in 1905,
+before the 'quake. It was a murder. The papers were full of it at the
+time; since then it has been occasionally featured in the supplements. I
+do not believe in the story; but I can trust to facts. The last seen of
+Dr. Holcomb was in this house. It is called the Blind Spot."
+
+"Then you believe in the story?" I asked.
+
+He looked at me.
+
+"Oh, you know it, eh? No, I do not. It's all bunkum; reporters' work
+and exaggeration. If you like that kind of stuff, it's weird and
+interesting. But it hurts property. The man was undoubtedly murdered.
+The tale hangs over the house. It's impossible to dispose of the place."
+
+"Then why not sell it to me?"
+
+He dropped his pencil; he was a bit nervous.
+
+"A fair question, Mr. Wendel--a very fair question. Well, now, why don't
+I? Perhaps I shall. There's no telling. But I'd rather not. Do you know,
+a year ago I would have jumped at an offer. Fact is, I did lease it--the
+lease ran out yesterday--to a man named Watson. I don't believe a thing
+in this nonsense; but what I have seen during the past year has tested
+my nerve considerably."
+
+"What about Watson?"
+
+"Watson? A year ago he came to see me in regard to this Chatterton
+property. Wanted to lease it. Was interested in the case of Dr. Holcomb;
+asked for a year's rental and the privilege of renewal. I don't know. I
+gave it to him; but when he drops in again I am going to fight almighty
+hard against letting him hold it longer."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why? Why, because I don't believe in murder. A year ago he came to
+me the healthiest and happiest man I ever saw; today he is a shadow. I
+watched that boy go down. Understand, I don't believe a damn word I'm
+saying; but I have seen it. It's that cursed house. I say no, when
+I reason; but it keeps on my nerves; it's on my conscience. It is
+insidious. Every month when he came here I could see disintegration.
+It's pitiful to see a young man stripped of life like that; forlorn,
+hopeless, gone. He has never told me what it is; but I have wondered. A
+battle; some conflict with--there I go again. It's on my nerves, I tell
+you, on my nerves. If this keeps up I'll burn it."
+
+It was a bit foreboding. Already I could feel the tugging at my heart
+that had done for Watson. This man had watched my friend slipping into
+the shadow; I had come to take his place.
+
+"Watson has gone," I said simply; "and that's why I am here."
+
+He straightened up.
+
+"You know him then. He was not--"
+
+"He went last night; he has left the country. He was in very poor
+health. That's why I am here. I know very well the cloud that hangs over
+the property; it is my sole reason for purchasing."
+
+"You don't believe in this nonsense?"
+
+I smiled. Certainly the man was perverse in his agnosticism; he was
+stubborn in disbelief. It was on his nerves; on his conscience; he was
+afraid.
+
+"I believe nothing," I answered; "neither do I disbelieve. I know all
+the story that has been told or written. I am a friend of Watson. You
+need not scruple in making me out a bill of sale. It's my own funeral. I
+abide by the consequences."
+
+He gave a sigh of relief. After all, he was human. He had honour; but
+it was after the brand of Pontius Pilate. He wished nothing on his
+conscience.
+
+Armed with the keys and the legal title, I took possession. In the
+daylight it was much as it had been the night before. Once across its
+threshold, one was in dank and furtive suppression; the air was heavy;
+a mould of age had streaked the walls and gloomed the shadows. I put up
+all the curtains to let in the rush of sunlight, likewise I opened the
+windows. If there is anything to beat down sin, it is the open measure
+of broad daylight.
+
+The house was well situated; from the front windows one could look down
+the street and out at the blue bay beyond the city. The fog had lifted
+and the sun was shining upon the water. I could make out the ferryboats,
+the islands, and the long piers that lead to Oakland, and still farther
+beyond the hills of Berkeley. It was a long time since those days in
+college. Under the shadow of those hills I had first met the old doctor.
+I was only a boy then.
+
+I turned into the building. Even the sound of my footsteps was foreign;
+the whole place was pregnant with stillness and shadow; life was gone
+out. It was fearful; I felt the terror clutching upon me, a grimness
+that may not be spoken; there was something breaking within me. I had
+pledged myself for a year. Frankly I was afraid.
+
+But I had given my word. I returned to my apartments and began that
+very day the closing down of my practice. In a fortnight I had completed
+everything and had moved my things to the room of Chick Watson.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+ALBERT JEROME
+
+
+Just as soon as possible I hurried over to Berkeley. I went straight to
+the bungalow on Dwight Way; I inquired for Miss Holcomb. She was a woman
+now in her late twenties, decidedly pretty, a blonde, and of intelligent
+bearing.
+
+Coming on such an errand, I was at a loss just how to approach her. I
+noted the little lines about the corners of her eyes, the sad droop of
+her pretty mouth. Plainly she was worried. As I was removing my hat she
+caught sight of the ring upon my finger.
+
+"Oh," she said; "then you come from Mr. Watson. How is Chick?"
+
+"Mr. Watson"--I did not like lying, but I could not but feel for
+her; she had already lost her father--"Mr. Watson has gone on a trip
+up-country--with Jerome. He was not feeling well. He has left this ring
+with me. I have come for a bit of information."
+
+She bit her lips; her mouth quivered.
+
+"Couldn't you get this from Mr. Watson? He knows about the stone. Didn't
+he tell you? How did it come into your possession? What has happened?"
+
+Her voice was querulous and suspicious. I had endeavoured to deceive her
+for her own sake; she had suffered enough already. I could not but wince
+at the pain in her eyes. She stood up.
+
+"Please, Mr. Wendel; don't be clumsy. Don't regard me as a mere baby.
+Tell me what has happened to Chick. Please--"
+
+She stopped in a flow of emotion. Tears came to her eyes; but she held
+control. She sat down.
+
+"Tell me all, Mr. Wendel. It is what I expected." She blinked to hold
+back her tears. "It is my fault. You wouldn't have the ring had nothing
+happened. Tell me. I can be brave."
+
+And brave she was--splendid. With the tug at my own heart I could
+understand her. What uncertainty and dread she must have been under! I
+had been in it but a few days; already I could feel the weight. At no
+time could I surmount the isolation; there was something going from
+me minute by minute. With the girl there could be no evasion; it were
+better that she have the truth. I made a clean breast of the whole
+affair.
+
+"And he told you no more about the ring?"
+
+"That is all," I answered. "He would have told us much more,
+undoubtedly, had he not--"
+
+"You saw him go--you saw this thing?"
+
+"That is just it, Miss Holcomb. We saw nothing. One minute we were
+looking at Chick, and the next at nothing. Hobart understood it better
+than I. At least he forbade my crossing the room. There is a danger
+point, a spot that may not be crossed. He threw me back. It was then
+that the Rhamda came upon the scene." She frowned slightly.
+
+"Tell me about the Nervina. When Chick spoke of her, I could always feel
+jealous. Is she beautiful?"
+
+"Most beautiful, the most wonderful girl I have ever seen, though I
+would hardly class her as one to be jealous of. But she wants the ring.
+I've promised Watson, and of course I shall keep it. But I would like
+its history."
+
+"I think I can give you some information there," she answered. "The
+ring, or rather the jewel, was given to father about twenty years ago by
+a Mr. Kennedy. He had been a pupil of father's when father taught at a
+local school. He came here often to talk over old times. Father had the
+jewel set in a ring; but he never wore it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"How did Watson come to link it up with the Blind Spot?"
+
+"That, I think, was an accident. He was in college, you know, at the
+time of father's disappearance. In fact, he was in the Ethics class.
+He came here often, and during one of his visits I showed him the ring.
+That was several years ago."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Well, about a year ago he was here again, and asked to see the jewel.
+We were to be married, you understand; but I had always put it off
+because of father. Somehow I felt that he would return. It was in late
+summer, about September; it was in the evening; it was getting dark. I
+gave Chick the ring, and stepped into the garden to cut some flowers. I
+remember that Chick struck a match in the parlour. When I came back he
+seemed to be excited."
+
+"Did he ask you for the ring?"
+
+"Yes. He wanted to wear it. And he suddenly began to talk of father. It
+was that night that he took it upon himself to find him."
+
+"I see. Not before that night? Did he take the ring then?"
+
+"Yes. We went to the opera. I remember it well, because that night was
+the first time I ever knew Chick to be gloomy."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes. You know how jolly he always was. When we returned that night he
+would scarcely say a word. I thought he was sick; but he said he was
+not; said he just felt that way."
+
+"I understand. And he kept getting glummer? Did you suspect the jewel?
+Did he ever tell you anything?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No. He told me nothing, except that he would find father. Of course, I
+became excited and wanted to know. But he insisted that I couldn't help;
+that he had a clue, and that it might take time. From that night I saw
+very little of him. He leased the house on Chatterton Place. He seemed
+to lose interest in myself; when he did come over he would act queerly.
+He talked incoherently, and would often make rambling mention of a
+beautiful girl called Nervina. You say it is the ring? Tell me, Mr.
+Wendel, what is it? Has it really anything to do with father?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"I think it has, Miss Holcomb. And I can understand poor Chick. He is a
+very brave man. It's a strange jewel and of terrible potency; that much
+I know. It devitalises; it destroys. I can feel it already. It covers
+life with a fog of decay. The same solitude has come upon myself.
+Nevertheless I am certain it has much to do with the Blind Spot. It is a
+key of some sort. The very interest of the Rhamda and the Nervina tells
+us that. I think it was through this stone that your father made his
+discovery."
+
+She thought a moment.
+
+"Hadn't you better return it? While you still have health? If you keep
+it, it will be only one more."
+
+"You forget, Miss Holcomb, my promise to Chick. I loved your father,
+and I was fond of Watson. It's a great secret and, if the professor is
+right, one which man has sought through the ages. I'd be a coward to
+forgo my duty. If I fail, I have another to take my place."
+
+"Oh," she said, "it's horrible. First father; then Chick; now you; and
+afterwards it will be Mr. Fenton."
+
+"It is our duty," I returned. "One by one. Though we may fail, each one
+of us may pass a bit more on to his successor. In the end we win. It is
+the way of man."
+
+I had my way. She turned over all the data and notes that had been
+left by the professor; but I never found a thing in them that could be
+construed to an advantage. My real quest was to trace down the jewel.
+The man Kennedy's full name was, I learned, Budge Kennedy. He had lived
+in Oakland. It was late in the afternoon when I parted with Miss Holcomb
+and started for the city.
+
+I remember it well because of a little incident that occurred
+immediately after our parting. I was just going down the steps when I
+looked up one of the side streets. A few students were loitering here
+and there. But there was one who was not a student. I recognised him
+instantly, and I wondered. It was the Rhamda. This was enough to make
+me suspicious. But there was one thing more. Farther up the street was
+another figure.
+
+When I came down the steps the Rhamda moved, and his move was somehow
+duplicated by the other. In itself this was enough to clear up some of
+my doubts concerning the phantom. His actions were too simple for an
+apparition. Only a man would act like that, and a crude one. I didn't
+know then the nerve of the Rhamda. There was no doubt that I was being
+shadowed.
+
+To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious route
+to the station. There was no question; one and two they followed. I knew
+the Rhamda; but who was the other?
+
+At the station we purchased tickets, and when the train pulled in I
+boarded a smoker. The other two took another coach--the stranger was a
+thick-set individual with a stubby, grey moustache. On the boat I didn't
+see them; but at the ferry building I made a test to see that I was
+followed. I hailed a taxi and gave specific instructions to the driver.
+
+"Drive slowly," I told him. "I think we shall be followed."
+
+And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging our
+wheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerning the Rhamda; but I couldn't
+understand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and I
+alighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither stopped. Both
+disappeared round the corner. I took the numbers; then I went into the
+house. In about a half hour a car drew up at the curb. I stepped to
+the window. It was the car that had tracked the Rhamda's. The stubby
+individual stepped out; without ceremony he ran up the steps and opened
+the door. It was a bit disconcerting, I think, for both. He was plain
+and blunt--and honest.
+
+"Well," he said, "where's Watson? Who are you? What do you want?"
+
+"That," I answered, "is a question for both of us. Who are you, and what
+do you want? Where is Watson?"
+
+Just then his eyes dropped and his glance fell and eyes widened.
+
+"My name is Jerome," he said simply. "Has something happened to Watson?
+Who are you?"
+
+We were standing in the library; I made an indication towards the other
+room. "In there," I said. "My name is Wendel."
+
+He took off his hat and ran the back of his hand across his forehead.
+
+"So that pair got him, too! I was afraid of them all the while. And I
+had to be away. Do you know how they did it? What's the working of their
+game? It's devilish and certainly clever. They played that boy for a
+year; they knew they would get him in the end. So did I.
+
+"He was a fine lad, a fine lad. I knew this morning when I came down
+from Nevada that they had him. Found your duds. A stranger. House looked
+queer. But I had hopes he might have gone over to see his girl. Just
+thought I'd wander over to Berkeley. Found that bird Rhamda under a palm
+tree watching the Holcomb bungalow. It was the first time I'd seen
+him since that day things went amiss with the professor. In about ten
+minutes you came out. I stayed with him while he tracked you back here;
+I followed him back down town and lost him. Tell me about Watson."
+
+He sat down; during my recital he spoke not a word. He consumed one
+cigar after another; when I stopped for a moment he merely nodded his
+head and waited until I continued. He was sturdy and frank, of an iron
+way and vast common sense. I liked him. When I had finished he remained
+silent; his grief was of a solid kind! he had liked poor Watson.
+
+"I see," he said. "It is as I thought. He told you more than he ever
+told me."
+
+"He never told you?"
+
+"Not much. He was a strange lad--about the loneliest one I've ever seen.
+There was something about him from the very first that was not natural;
+I couldn't make him out. You say it is the ring. He always wore it.
+I laid it to this Rhamda. He was always meeting him. I could never
+understand it. Try as I would, I could not get a trace of the phantom."
+
+"The phantom?"
+
+"Most assuredly. Would you call him human?" His grey eyes were flecked
+with light. "Come now, Mr. Wendel, would you?"
+
+"Well," I answered, "I don't know. Not after what I have seen. But for
+all that, I have proof of his sinews. I am inclined to blend the
+two. There is a law somewhere, a very natural one. The Blind Spot is
+undoubtedly a combination of phenomena; it has a control. We do not know
+what it is, or where it leads to; neither do we know the motive of the
+Rhamda. Who is he? If we knew that, we would know everything."
+
+"And this ring?"
+
+"I shall wear it."
+
+"Then God help you. I watched Watson. It's plain poison. You have a
+year; but you had better count on half a year; the first six months
+aren't so bad; but the last--it takes a man! Wendel, it takes a man!
+Already you're eating your heart out. Oh, I know--you have opened the
+windows; you want sunshine and air. In six months I shall have to fight
+to get one open. It gets into the soul; it is stagnation; you die by
+inches. Better give me the ring."
+
+"This Budge Kennedy," I evaded, "we must find him. We have time. One
+clue may lead us on. Tell me what you know of the Blind Spot."
+
+"Very easy," he answered; "you have it all. I have been here a number of
+years. You will remember I fell into the case through intuition. I never
+had any definite proof, outside the professor's disappearance, the
+old lady, and that bell; unless perhaps it is the Rhamda. But from the
+beginning I've been positive.
+
+"Taking that lecture in ethics as a starter, I built up my theory.
+All the clues lead to this building. It's something that I cannot
+understand. It's out of the occult. It's a bit too much for me. I moved
+into the place and waited. I've never forgotten that bell, nor that old
+lady. You and Fenton are the only ones who have seen the Blind Spot."
+
+I had a sudden thought.
+
+"The Rhamda! I have read that he has the manner of inherent goodness. Is
+it true? You have conversed with him. I haven't."
+
+"He has. He didn't strike me as a villain. He's intrinsic, noble, out of
+self. I have often wondered."
+
+I smiled. "Perhaps we are thinking the same thing. Is this it? The Blind
+Spot is a secret that man may not attain to. It is unknowable and akin
+to death. The Rhamda knows it. He couldn't head off the professor. He
+simply employed Dr. Holcomb's wisdom to trap him; now that he has him
+secure, he intends to hold him. It is for our own good."
+
+"Exactly. Yet--"
+
+"Yet?"
+
+"He was very anxious to put you and Fenton into this very Spot."
+
+"That is so. But may it not be that we, too, knew a bit too much?"
+
+He couldn't answer that.
+
+Nevertheless, we were both of us convinced concerning the Rhamda. It was
+merely a digression of thought, a conjecture. He might be good; but we
+were both positive of his villainy. It was his motive, of course,
+that weighed up his character; could we find that, we would uncover
+everything.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+A NEW ELEMENT
+
+
+Budge Kennedy was not so easily found. There were many Kennedys. About
+two-thirds of Ireland had apparently migrated to San Francisco under
+that name and had lodged in the directory. We went through the lists on
+both sides of the bay, but found nothing; the old directories had mostly
+been destroyed by fire or had been thrown away as worthless; but at last
+we unearthed one. In it we found the name of Budge Kennedy.
+
+He had two sons--Patrick and Henry. One of these, Henry, we ran down in
+the Mission. He was a great, red-headed, broad-shouldered Irishman. He
+was just eating supper when we called; there were splotches of white
+plaster on his trousers.
+
+I came right to the point: "Do you know anything about this?" I held out
+the ring.
+
+He took it in his fingers; his eyes popped. "What, that! Well, I guess
+I do! Where'd you get it?" He called out to the kitchen: "Say, Mollie,
+come here. Here's the old man's jool!" He looked at me a bit fearfully.
+"You aren't wearing it?"
+
+"Why not?" I asked.
+
+"Why? Well, I don't know exactly. I wouldn't wear it for a million
+dollars. It ain't a jool; it's a piece of the divil. The old man gave
+it to Dr. Holcomb--or sold it, I don't know which. He carried it in his
+pocket once, and he came near dying."
+
+"Unlucky?" I asked.
+
+"No, it ain't unlucky; it just rips your heart out. It would make you
+hate your grandmother. Lonesome! Lonesome! I've often heard the old man
+talking."
+
+"He sold it to Dr. Holcomb? Do you know why?"
+
+"Well, yes. 'Twas that the old doc had some scientific work. Dad told
+him about his jool. One day he took it over to Berkeley. It was some
+kind of thing that the professor just wanted. He kept it. Dad made him
+promise not to wear it."
+
+"I see. Did your father ever tell you where he got it?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He often spoke about that. The old man wasn't a plasterer,
+you know--just a labourer. He was digging a basement. It was a funny
+basement--a sort of blind cellar. There was a stone wall right across
+the middle, and then there was a door of wood to look like stone. You
+can go down into the back cellar, but not into the front. If you don't
+know about the door, you'll never find it. Dad often spoke about that.
+He was working in the back cellar when he found this. 'Twas sticking in
+some blue clay."
+
+"Where was this place? Do you remember?"
+
+"Sure. 'Twas in Chatterton Place. Pat and I was kids then; we took the
+old man's dinner."
+
+"Do you know the number?"
+
+"It didn't have no number; but I know the place. 'Tis a two-story house,
+and was built in 'ninety-one."
+
+I nodded. "And afterwards you moved to Oakland?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did your father ever speak of the reason for this partition in the
+cellar?"
+
+"He never knew of one. It was none of his business. He was merely a
+labourer, and did what he was paid for."
+
+"Do you know who built it?"
+
+"Some old guy. He was a cranky cuss with side-whiskers. He used to wear
+a stove-pipe hat. I think he was a chemist. Whenever he showed up he
+would run us kids out of the building. I think he was a bachelor."
+
+This was all the information he could give, but it was a great deal.
+Certainly it was more than I had hoped for. The house had been built
+by a chemist; even in the construction there was mystery. I had never
+thought of a second cellar; when I had explored the building I had taken
+the stone wall for granted. It was so with Jerome. It was the first
+definite clue that really brought us down to earth. What had this
+chemist to do with the phenomena?
+
+After all, behind everything was lurking the mind of man.
+
+We hastened back to the house and into the cellar. By merely sounding
+along the wall we discovered the door; it was cleverly constructed and
+for a time defied our efforts; but Jerome got it open by means of a
+jemmy and a pick. The outside was a clever piece of sham work shaped
+like stone and smeared over with cement. In the dim light we had missed
+it.
+
+We had high expectations. But we were disappointed. The space contained
+nothing; it was smeared with cobwebs and hairy mould; but outside of a
+few empty bottles and the gloomy darkness there was nothing. We tapped
+the walls and floor and ceiling. Beyond all doubt the place once held
+a secret; if it held it still, it was cleverly hidden. After an hour or
+two of search we returned to the upper part of the building.
+
+Jerome was not discouraged.
+
+"We're on the right track, Mr. Wendel; if we can only get started.
+I have an idea. The chemist--it was in 'ninety-one--that's more than
+twenty years."
+
+"What is your idea?"
+
+"The Rhamda. What is the first thing that strikes you? His age. With
+everyone that sees him it's the same. At first you take him for an old
+man; if you study him long enough, you are positive that he is in his
+twenties. May he not be this chemist?"
+
+"What becomes of the doctor and his Blind Spot?"
+
+"The Blind Spot," answered Jerome, "is merely a part of the chemistry."
+
+Next day I hunted up a jeweller. I was careful to choose one with whom I
+was acquainted. I asked for a private consultation. When we were alone I
+took the ring from my finger.
+
+"Just an opinion," I asked. "You know gems. Can you tell me anything
+about this one?"
+
+He picked it up casually, and turned it over; his mouth puckered. For a
+minute he studied.
+
+"That? Well, now." He held it up. "Humph. Wait a minute."
+
+"Is it a gem?"
+
+"I think it is. At first I thought I knew it right off; but now--wait a
+minute."
+
+He reached in the drawer for his glass. He held the stone up for some
+minutes. His face was a study; queer little wrinkles twisting from the
+corners of his eyes told his wonder. He did not speak; merely turned
+the stone round and round. At last he removed his glass and held up the
+ring. He was quizzical.
+
+"Where did you get this?" he asked.
+
+"That is something I do not care to answer. I wish to know what it is.
+Is it a gem? If so, what kind?"
+
+He thought a moment and shook his head.
+
+"I thought I knew every gem on earth. But I don't. This is a new one.
+It is beautiful--just a moment." He stepped to the door. In a moment
+another man stepped in. The jeweller motioned towards the ring. The man
+picked it up and again came the examination. At last he laid the glass
+and ring both upon the table.
+
+"What do you make of it, Henry?" asked the jeweller.
+
+"Not me," answered the second one. "I never saw one like it."
+
+It was as Watson had said. No man had ever identified the jewel. The two
+men were puzzled; they were interested. The jeweller turned to me.
+
+"Would you care to leave it with us for a bit; you have no objection to
+us taking it out of the ring?"
+
+I had not thought of that. I had business down the street. I consulted
+my watch.
+
+"In half an hour I shall be back. Will that be enough time?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+It was an hour before I returned. The assistant was standing at the door
+of the office. He spoke something to the one inside and then made an
+indication to myself. He seemed excited; when I came closer I noted that
+his face was full of wonder.
+
+"We've been waiting," said he. "We didn't examine the stone; it wasn't
+necessary. It is truly wonderful." He was a short, squat man with a
+massive forehead. "Just step inside."
+
+Inside the office the jeweller was sitting beside a table; he was
+leaning back in his chair; he had his hands clasped over his stomach. He
+was gazing toward the ceiling; his face was a study, full of wonder and
+speculation.
+
+"Well?" I asked.
+
+For an answer he merely raised his finger, pointed towards the ceiling.
+
+"Up there," he spoke. "Your jewel or whatever it is. A good thing we
+weren't in open air. 'Twould be going yet."
+
+I looked up. Sure enough, against the ceiling was the gem. It was a bit
+disconcerting, though I will confess that in the first moment I did not
+catch the full significance.
+
+The jeweller closed one eye and studied first myself and then the
+beautiful thing against the ceiling.
+
+"What do you make of it?" he asked.
+
+Really I had not made anything; it was a bit of a shock; I hadn't
+grasped the full impossibility. I didn't answer.
+
+"Don't you see, Mr. Wendel? Impossible! Contrary to nature! Lighter than
+air. We took it out of the ring and it shot out like a bullet. Thought
+I'd dropped it. Began looking on the floor. Couldn't find it; looked up
+and saw Reynolds, here, with his eyes popping out like marbles. He was
+looking at the ceiling."
+
+I thought for a moment.
+
+"Then it is not a gem?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. "Not if I'm a jeweller. Whoever heard of a
+stone without weight? It has no gravity, that is, apparently. I doubt
+whether it is a substance. I don't know what it is."
+
+It was puzzling. I would have given a good deal just then for a few
+words with Dr. Holcomb. The man, Kennedy, had kept it in his pocket.
+How had he held it a prisoner? The professor had use for it in some
+scientific work! No wonder! Certainly it was not a jewel. What could it
+be? It was solid. It was lighter than air. Could it be a substance? If
+not; what is it?
+
+"What would you advise?"
+
+In answer the jeweller reached for the telephone. He gave a number.
+
+"Hello. Say, is Ed there? This is Phil. Tell him to step to the phone.
+Hello! Say, Ed, I want you to come over on the jump. Something to show
+you. Too busy! No, you're not. Not for this. I'm going to teach you some
+chemistry. No; this is serious. What is it? I don't know. What's lighter
+than air? Lots of things? Oh, I know. But what solid? That's why I'm
+asking. Come over. All right. At once."
+
+He hung up the receiver.
+
+"My brother," he spoke. "It has passed beyond my province and into his.
+He is a chemist. As an expert he may give you a real opinion."
+
+Surely we needed one. It was against reason. It had taken me
+completely off my balance. I took a chair and joined the others in the
+contemplation of the blue dot on the ceiling. We could speculate and
+conjecture; but there was not one of us deep enough even to start a
+theory. Plainly it was what should not be. We had been taught physics
+and science; we had been drilled to fundamentals. If this thing could
+be, then the foundations upon which we stood were shattered. But one
+little law! Back in my mind was buzzing the enigma of the Blind Spot.
+They were woven together. Some law that had eluded the ken of mankind.
+
+The chemist was a tall man with a hook nose and black eyes that clinched
+like rivets. He was a bit impatient. He looked keenly at his brother.
+
+"Well, Phil, what is it?" He pulled out a watch, "I haven't much time."
+
+There was a contrast between them. The jeweller was fat and complacent.
+He merely sat in his chair, his hand on his waistband and a stubby
+finger elevated toward the jewel. He seemed to enjoy it.
+
+"You're a chemist, Ed. Here's a test for your wisdom. Can you explain
+that? No, over here. Above your head. That jewel?"
+
+The other looked up.
+
+"What's the idea? New notion for decoration? Or"?--a bit testily--"is
+this a joke?" He was a serious man; his black eyes and the nose spoke
+his character.
+
+The jeweller laughed gently.
+
+"Listen, Ed--" Then he went into explanation; when he was through the
+chemist was twitching with excitement.
+
+"Get me a ladder. Here, let me get on the table; perhaps I can reach
+it. Sounds impossible, but if it's so, it's so; it must have an
+explanation."
+
+Without ado and in spite of the protests of his brother he stepped upon
+the polished surface of the table. He was a tall man; he could just
+barely reach it with the tip of his finger. He could move it; but each
+time it clung as to a magnet. After a minute of effort he gave it up.
+When he looked down he was a different man; his black eyes glowed with
+wonder.
+
+"Can't make it," he said. "Get a step-ladder. Strange!"
+
+With the ladder it was easy. He plucked it off the ceiling. We pressed
+about the table. The chemist turned it about with his fingers.
+
+"I wonder," he was saying. "It's a gem. Apparently. You say it has no
+gravity. It can't be. Whoop!" He let it slip out of his fingers. Again
+it popped on its way to the ceiling. He caught it with a deft movement
+of his hand. "The devil! Did you ever see! And a solid! Who owns this?"
+
+That brought it back to me. I explained what I could of the manner of my
+possession.
+
+"I see. Very interesting. Something I've never
+seen--and--frankly--something strictly against what I've been taught.
+Nevertheless, it's not impossible. We are witnesses at least. Would you
+care if I take this over to the laboratory?"
+
+It was a new complication. If it were not a jewel there was a chance of
+its being damaged. I was as anxious as he; but I had been warned as to
+its possession.
+
+"I shan't harm it. I'll see to that. I have suspicions and I'd like to
+verify them. A chemist doesn't blunder across such a thing every day. I
+am a chemist." His eyes glistened.
+
+"Your suspicions?" I asked.
+
+"A new element."
+
+This gem. A new element. Perhaps that would explain the Blind Spot. It
+was not exactly of earth. Everything had confirmed it.
+
+"You--A new element? How do you account for it? It defies your laws.
+Most of your elements are evolved through tedious process. This is
+picked up by chance."
+
+"That is so. But there are still a thousand ways. A meteor, perhaps; a
+bit of cosmic dust--there are many shattered comets. Our chemistry
+is earthly. There are undoubtedly new elements that we don't know of.
+Perhaps in enormous proportion."
+
+I let him have it. It was the only night I had been away from the ring.
+I may say that it is the only time I have been free from its isolation.
+
+When I called at his office next day I found he had merely confirmed his
+suspicions. It defied analysis; there was no reaction. Under all tests
+it was a stranger. The whole science that had been built up to explain
+everything had here explained nothing. However there was one thing that
+he had uncovered--heat. Perhaps I should say magnetism. It was cold to
+man. I have spoken about the icy blue of its colour. It was cold even to
+look at. The chemist placed it in my hand.
+
+"Is it not so?"
+
+It was. The minute it touched my palm I could sense the weird horror of
+the isolation; the stone was cold. Just like a piece of ice.
+
+This was the first time I had ever had it in direct contact with the
+flesh. Set in the ring its impulse had always been secondary.
+
+"You notice it? It is so with me. Now then. Just a minute."
+
+He pressed a button. A young lady answered his ring; she glanced first
+at myself and then at the chemist.
+
+"Miss Mills, this is Mr. Wendel. He is the owner of the gem. Would you
+take it in your hand? And please tell Mr. Wendel how it feels--"
+
+She laughed; she was a bit perplexed.
+
+"I don't understand"--she turned to me--"we had the same dispute
+yesterday. See, Mr. White says that it's cold; but it is not. It is
+warm; almost burning. All the other girls think just as I do."
+
+"And all the men as I do," averred the chemist, "even Mr. Wendel."
+
+"Is it cold to you?" she asked. "Really--"
+
+It was a turn I hadn't looked for. It was akin to life--this relation to
+sex. Could it account for the strange isolation and the weariness? I was
+a witness to its potency. Watson! I could feel myself dragging under. I
+had just one question:
+
+"Tell me, Miss Mills. Can you sense anything else; I mean beyond its
+temperature?"
+
+She smiled a bit. "I don't know what you mean exactly. It is a beautiful
+stone. I would like to have it."
+
+"You think its possession would make you happy?"
+
+Her eyes sparkled.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed. "I know it would! I can feel it!"
+
+It was so. Whatever there was in the bit of sapphirine blue, it had
+life. What was it? It had relation to sex. In the strict line of fact it
+was impossible.
+
+When we were alone again I turned to the chemist.
+
+"Is there anything more you uncovered? Did you see anything in the
+stone?"
+
+He frowned. "No. Nothing else. This magnetism is the only thing. Is
+there anything more?"
+
+Now I hadn't said anything about its one great quality. He hadn't
+stumbled across the image of the two men. I couldn't understand it. I
+didn't tell him. Perhaps I was wrong. Down inside me I sensed a subtle
+reason for secrecy. It is hard to explain. It was not perverseness; it
+was a finer distinction; perhaps it was the influence of the gem. I took
+it back to the jeweller again and had it reset.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+AGAIN THE NERVINA
+
+
+It was at this point that I began taking notes. There is something
+psychological to the Blind Spot, weird and touching on the spirit. I
+know not what it is; but I can feel it. It impinges on to life. I can
+sense the ecstasy of horror. I am not afraid. Whatever it is that is
+dragging me down, it is not evil. My sensations are not normal.
+
+For the benefit of my successor, if there is to be one, I have made an
+elaborate detail of notes and comments. After all, the whole thing,
+when brought down to the end, must fall to the function of science.
+When Hobart arrives, whatever my fate, he will find a complete and
+comprehensive record of my sensations. I shall keep it up to the end.
+Such notes being dry and sometimes confusing I have purposely omitted
+them from this narrative. But there are some things that must be
+given to the world. I shall pick out the salient parts and give them
+chronologically.
+
+Jerome stayed with me. Rather I should say he spent the nights with me.
+Most of the time he was on the elusive trail of the Rhamda. From the
+minute of our conversation with Kennedy he held to one conviction. He
+was positive of that chemist back in the nineties. He was certain of
+the Rhamda. Whatever the weirdness of his theory it would certainly bear
+investigation. When he was not on the trail over the city he was at work
+in the cellar. Here we worked together.
+
+We dug up the concrete floor and did a bit of mining. I was interested
+in the formation.
+
+From the words of Budge Kennedy the bit of jewel had been discovered at
+the original excavation. We found the blue clay that he spoke of, but
+nothing else. Jerome dissected every bit of earth carefully. We have
+spent many hours in that cellar.
+
+But most of the time I was alone. When not too worn with the loneliness
+and weariness I worked at my notes. It has been a hard task from the
+beginning. Inertia, lack of energy! How much of our life is impulse!
+What is the secret that backs volition? It has been will--will-power
+from the beginning. I must thank my ancestors. Without the strength and
+character built up through generations, I would have succumbed utterly.
+
+Even as it is I sometimes think I am wrong in following the dictates of
+Watson. If I were only sure. I have pledged my word and my honour. What
+did he know? I need all the reserve of character to hold up against
+the Nervina. From the beginning she has been my opponent. What is her
+interest in the Blind Spot and myself? Who is she? I cannot think of
+her as evil. She is too beautiful, too tender; her concern is so real.
+Sometimes I think of her as my protector, that it is she, and she alone
+who holds back the power which would engulf me. Once she made a personal
+appeal.
+
+Jerome had gone. I was alone. I had dragged myself to the desk and my
+notes and data. It was along toward spring and in the first shadows of
+the early evening. I had turned on the lights. It was the first labour
+I had done for several days. I had a great deal of work before me. I
+had begun sometime before to take down my temperature. I was careful of
+everything now, as much as I could be under the depression. So far I had
+discerned nothing that could be classed as pathological.
+
+There is something subtle about the Nervina. She is much like the
+Rhamda. Perhaps they are the same. I hear no sound, I have no notion of
+a door or entrance. Watson had said of the Rhamda, "Sometimes you see
+him, sometimes you don't." It is so with the Nervina. I remember only
+my working at the data and the sudden movement of a hand upon my desk--a
+girl's hand. It was bewildering. I looked up.
+
+I had not seen her since that night. It was now eight months--did I not
+know, I would have recorded them as years. Her expression was a bit more
+sad--and beautiful. The same wonderful glow of her eyes, night-black and
+tender; the softness that comes from passion, and love, and virtue. The
+same wistful droop of the perfect mouth. What a wondrous mass of hair
+she had! I dropped my pen. She took my hand. I could sense the thrill of
+contact; cool and magnetic.
+
+"Harry!"
+
+She said no more; I did not answer; I was too taken by surprise and
+wonder. I could feel her concern as I would a mother's. What was her
+interest in myself? The contact of her hand sent a strange pulse through
+my vitals; she was so beautiful. Could it be? Watson said he loved her.
+Could I blame him?
+
+"Harry," she asked, "how long is it to continue?"
+
+So that was it. Merely an envoy to accept surrender. I was worn utterly,
+weary of the world, lonely. But I hadn't given up. I had strength still,
+and will enough to hold out to the end. Perhaps I was wrong. If I gave
+her the ring? what then?
+
+"I am afraid," I answered, "that I must go on. I have given my word. It
+has been much harder than I expected. This jewel? What has it to do with
+the Blind Spot?"
+
+"It controls it."
+
+"Does the Rhamda desire it?"
+
+"He does."
+
+"Why doesn't he call for it personally? Why doesn't he make a clean
+breast of it? It would be much easier. He knows and you know that I am
+after Dr. Holcomb and Watson. I might even forego the secret. Would he
+release the doctor?"
+
+"No, Harry, he would not."
+
+"I see. If I gave up the ring it would be merely for my personal safety.
+I am a coward--"
+
+"Oh," she said, "don't say that. You must give the ring to me--not to
+the Rhamda. He must not control the Blind Spot."
+
+"What is the Blind Spot? Tell me."
+
+"Harry," she spoke, "I cannot. It is not for you or any other mortal. It
+is a secret that should never have been uncovered. It might be the end.
+In the hands of the Rhamda it would certainly be the end of mankind."
+
+"Who is the Rhamda? Who are you? You are too beautiful to be merely
+woman. Are you a spirit?"
+
+She pressed my hand ever so slightly. "Do I feel like a spirit? I am
+material as much as you are. We live, see--everything."
+
+"But you are not of this world?"
+
+Her eyes grew sadder; a soft longing.
+
+"Not exactly, Harry, not exactly. It is a long story and a very strange
+one. I may not tell you. It is for your own good. I am your friend"--her
+eyes were moist--"I--don't you see? Oh, I would save you!"
+
+I did not doubt it. Somehow she was like a girl of dreams, pure as an
+angel; her wistfulness only deepened her beauty. It came like a shock
+at the moment. I could love this woman. She was--what was I thinking?
+My guilty mind ran back to Charlotte. I had loved her since boyhood. I
+would be a coward--then a wild fear. Perhaps of jealousy.
+
+"The Rhamda? Is he your husband? You are the same--"
+
+"Oh," she answered, "why do you say it?" Her eyes snapped and she grew
+rigid. "The Rhamda! My husband! If you only knew. I hate him! We are
+enemies. It was he who opened the Blind Spot. I am here because he is
+evil. To watch him. I love your world, I love it all. I would save it. I
+love--"
+
+She dropped her head. Whatever she was, she was not above sobbing.
+
+I touched her hair; it was of the softest texture I have ever seen;
+the lustre was like all the beauty of night woven into silk. She loved,
+loved; I could love--I was on the point of surrender.
+
+"Tell me," I asked, "just one thing more. If I gave you this ring would
+you save the doctor and Chick Watson?"
+
+She raised her head; her eyes glistened; but she did not answer.
+
+"Would you?"
+
+She shook her head. "I cannot," she answered. "That cannot be. I can
+only save you for--for--Charlotte."
+
+Was it vanity in myself? I don't know. It seemed to me that it was hard
+for her to say it. Frankly, I loved her. I knew it. I loved Charlotte. I
+loved them both. But I held to my purpose.
+
+"Are the professor and Watson living?"
+
+"They are."
+
+"Are they conscious?"
+
+She nodded. "Harry," she said, "I can tell you that. They are living and
+conscious. You have seen them. They have only one enemy--the Rhamda.
+But they must never come out of the Blind Spot. I am their friend and
+yours."
+
+A sudden courage came upon me. I remembered my word to Watson. I had
+loved the old professor. I would save them. If necessary I would follow
+to the end. Either myself or Fenton. One of us would solve it!
+
+"I shall keep the ring," I said. "I shall avenge them. Somehow,
+somewhere, I feel that I shall do it. Even if I must follow--"
+
+She straightened at that. Her eyes were frightened.
+
+"Oh," she said, "why do you say it? It must not be! You would perish!
+You shall not do it! I must save you. You must not go alone. Three--it
+may not be. If you go, I go with you. Perhaps--oh, Harry!"
+
+She dropped her head again; her body shook with her sobbing; plainly
+she was a girl. No real man is ever himself in the presence of a woman's
+tears. I was again on the point of surrender. Suddenly she looked up.
+
+"Harry," she spoke sadly, "I have just one thing to ask. You must see
+Charlotte. You must forget me; we can never--you love Charlotte. I have
+seen her; she's a beautiful girl. You haven't written. She is worried.
+Remember what you mean to her happiness. Will you go?"
+
+That I could promise.
+
+"Yes, I shall see Charlotte."
+
+She rose from her chair. I held her hand. Again, as in the restaurant, I
+lifted it to my lips. She flushed and drew it away. She bit her lip. Her
+beauty was a kind I could not understand.
+
+"You must see Charlotte," she said, "and you must do as she says."
+
+With that she was gone. There was a car waiting; the last I saw was its
+winking tail-light dimming into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+CHARLOTTE
+
+
+Left alone, I began thinking of Charlotte. I loved her; of that I was
+certain. I could not compare her with the Nervina. She was like myself,
+human. I had known her since boyhood. The other was out of the ether; my
+love for her was something different; she was of dreams and moonbeams;
+there was a film about her beauty, illusion; she was of spirit.
+
+I wrote a note to the detective and left it upon my desk. After that I
+packed a suitcase and hurried to the station. If I was going I would do
+it at once, I could not trust myself too far. This visit had been like
+a breath of air; for the moment I was away from the isolation. The
+loneliness and the weariness! How I dreaded it! I was only free from
+it for a few moments. On the train it came back upon me and in a manner
+that was startling.
+
+I had purchased my ticket. When the conductor came through he passed me.
+He gathered tickets all about me; but he did not notice me. At first I
+paid no attention; but when he had gone through the car several times I
+held up my ticket. He did not stop. It was not until I had touched him
+that he gave me a bit of attention.
+
+"Where have you been sitting?" he asked.
+
+I pointed to the seat. He frowned slightly.
+
+"There?" he asked. "Did you say you were sitting in that seat? Where did
+you get on?"
+
+"At Townsend."
+
+"Queer," he answered; he punched the ticket. "Queer. I passed that seat
+several times. It was empty!"
+
+Empty! It was almost a shock. Could it be that my isolation was becoming
+physical as well as mental? What was this gulf that was widening between
+myself and my fellows?
+
+It was the beginning of another phase. I have noticed it many times; on
+the street, in public places, everywhere. I thread in and out among men.
+Sometimes they see me, sometimes they don't. It is strange. I feel at
+times as though I might be vanishing out of the world!
+
+It was late when I reached my old home; but the lights were still
+burning. My favourite dog, Queen, was on the veranda. As I came up the
+steps she growled slightly, but on recognition went into a series of
+circles about the porch. My father opened the door. I stepped inside. He
+touched me on the shoulder, his jaw dropped.
+
+"Harry!" he exclaimed.
+
+Was it as bad as that? How much meaning may be placed in a single
+intonation! I was weary to the point of exhaustion. The ride upon the
+train had been too much.
+
+My mother came in. For some moments I was busy protesting my health.
+But it was useless; it wasn't until I had partaken of a few of the old
+nostrums that I could placate her.
+
+"Work, work, work, my boy," said my father, "nothing but work. It
+really won't do. You're a shadow. You must take a vacation. Go to the
+mountains; forget your practice for a short time."
+
+I didn't tell them. Why should I? I decided right then it was my own
+battle. It was enough for me without casting the worry upon others. Yet
+I could not see Charlotte without calling on my parents.
+
+As soon as possible I crossed the street to the Fentons'. Someone had
+seen me in town. Charlotte was waiting. She was the same beautiful girl
+I had known so long; the blue eyes, the blonde, wavy mass of hair, the
+laughing mouth and the gladness. But she was not glad now. It was
+almost a repetition of what had happened at home, only here a bit more
+personal. She clung to me almost in terror. I didn't realise I had gone
+down so much. I knew my weariness; but I hadn't thought my appearance
+so dejected. I remembered Watson. He had been wan, pale, forlorn.
+After what brief explanation I could give, I proposed a stroll in the
+moonlight.
+
+It was a full moon; a wonderful night; we walked down the avenue under
+the elm trees. Charlotte was beautiful, and worried; she clung to my
+arm with the eagerness of possession. I could not but compare her
+with Nervina. There was a contrast; Charlotte was fresh, tender,
+affectionate, the girl of my boyhood. I had known her all my life; there
+was no doubt of our love.
+
+Who was the other? She was something higher, out of mystery, out of
+life--almost--out of the moonbeams. I stopped and looked up. The great
+full orb was shining. I didn't know that I spoke.
+
+"Harry," asked Charlotte, "who is the Nervina?"
+
+Had I spoken?
+
+"What do you know about the Nervina?" I asked.
+
+"She has been to see me. She told me. She said you would be here
+tonight. I was waiting. She is very beautiful. I never saw anyone like
+her. She is wonderful!"
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She! Oh, Harry. Tell me. I have waited. Something has happened. Tell
+me. You have told me nothing. You are not like the old Harry."
+
+"Tell me about the Nervina. What did she say? Charlotte, tell me
+everything. Am I so much different from the old Harry?"
+
+She clutched at my arm fearfully; she looked into my eyes.
+
+"Oh," she said, "how can you say it? You haven't laughed once. You are
+melancholy; you are pale, drawn, haggard. You keep muttering. You are
+not the old Harry. Is it this Nervina? At first I thought she loved you;
+but she does not. She wanted to know all about you, and about our love.
+She was so interested. What is this danger?"
+
+I didn't answer.
+
+"You must tell me. This ring? She said that you must give it to me. What
+is it?" she insisted.
+
+"Did she ask that? She told you to take the ring? My dear," I asked, "if
+it were the ring and it were so sinister would I be a man to give it to
+my loved one?"
+
+"It would not hurt me."
+
+But I would not. Something warned me. It was a ruse to get it out of my
+possession. The whole thing was haunting, weird, ghostly. Always I could
+hear Watson. I still had a small quota of courage and will-power. I
+clung steadfastly to my purpose.
+
+It was a sad three hours. Poor Charlotte! I shall never forget it. It is
+the hardest task on earth to deny one's loved one.
+
+She had grown into my heart and into its possession. She clung to me
+tenderly, tearfully. I could not tell her. Her feminine instinct sensed
+disaster. In spite of her tears I insisted. When I kissed her goodnight
+she did not speak. But she looked up at me through her tears. It was the
+hardest thing of all for me to bear.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE SHEPHERD
+
+
+When I returned to the city next morning I took my dog. It was a strange
+whim; but one which was to lead to a remarkable development. I have
+always been a lover of dogs. I was lonely. There is a bond between a dog
+and his master. It goes beyond definition; it roots down into nature. I
+was to learn much.
+
+She was an Australian shepherd. She was of a tawny black and bob-tailed
+from birth.
+
+What is the power that lies behind instinct? How far does it go? I had
+a notion that the dog would be outside the sinister clutch that was
+dragging me under.
+
+Happily Jerome was fond of dogs. He was reading. When I entered with
+Queen tugging at the chain he looked up. The dog recognised the heart
+of the man; when he stooped to pet her she moved her stub tail in an
+effusion of affectionate acceptance. Jerome had been reading Le Bon's
+theory on the evolution of force. His researches after the mystery had
+led him into the depths of speculation; he had become quite a scholar.
+After our first greeting I unhooked the chain and let Queen have the
+freedom of the house. I related what had happened. The detective closed
+the book and sat down. The dog waited a bit for further petting; but
+missing that she began sniffing about the room. There was nothing
+strange about it of course. I myself paid not the slightest attention.
+But the detective was watching. While I was telling my story he was
+following every movement of the shepherd. Suddenly he held up one
+finger. I turned.
+
+It was Queen. A low growl, guttural and suspicious. She was standing
+about a foot from the portieres that separated the library from the
+other room--where we had lost Watson, and where Jerome had had his
+experience with the old lady. Tense and rigid, one forepaw held up
+stealthily, her stub tail erect and the hair along her back bristled.
+Again the low growl. I caught Jerome's eyes. It was queer.
+
+"What is it, Queen?" I spoke.
+
+At the sound of my voice she wagged her tail and looked round, then
+stepped between the curtains. Just her head. She drew back; her lips
+drawn from her teeth, snarling. She was rigid, alert, vitalised. Somehow
+it made me cold. She was a brave dog; she feared nothing. The detective
+stepped forward and pulled the curtains apart. The room was empty. We
+looked into each other's faces. What is there to instinct? What is its
+range? We could see nothing.
+
+But not to the dog. Her eyes glowed. Hate, fear, terror, her whole body
+rigid.
+
+"I wonder," I said. I stepped into the room. But I hadn't counted on the
+dog. With a yelp she was upon me, had me by the calf of the leg and was
+drawing me back. She stepped in front of me; a low, guttural growl of
+warning. But there was nothing in that room; of that we were certain.
+
+"Beats me," said the detective. "How does she know? Wonder if she would
+stop me?" He stepped forward. It was merely a repetition. She caught
+him by the trouser-leg and drew him back. She crowded us away from the
+curtain. It was almost magnetic. We could see nothing, neither could we
+feel; was it possible that the dog could see beyond us? The detective
+spoke first:
+
+"Take her out of the room. Put her in the hall; tie her up."
+
+"What's the idea?"
+
+"Merely this; I am going to examine the room. No, I am not afraid. I'll
+be mighty glad if it does catch me. Anything so long as I get results."
+
+But it did us no good. We examined the room many times that night; both
+of us. In the end there was nothing, only the weirdness and uncertainty
+and the magnetic undercurrent which we could feel, but could not fathom.
+When we called in the dog she stepped to the portieres and commenced her
+vigil. She crouched slightly behind the curtains, alert, ready, waiting,
+at her post of honour. From that moment she never left the spot except
+under compulsion. We could hear her at all times of the night; the low
+growl, the snarl, the defiance.
+
+But there was a great deal more that we were to learn from the dog. It
+was Jerome who first called my attention. A small fact at the beginning;
+but of a strange sequence. This time it was the ring. Queen had the
+habit that is common to most dogs; she would lick my hand to show her
+affection. It was nothing in itself; but for one fact--she always chose
+the left hand. It was the detective who first noticed it. Always and
+every opportunity she would lick the jewel. We made a little test to try
+her. I would remove the ring from one hand to the other; then hold it
+behind me. She would follow.
+
+It was a strange fact; but of course not inexplicable. A scent or the
+attraction of taste might account for it. However, these little tests
+led to a rather remarkable discovery.
+
+One night we had called the dog from her vigil. As usual she came to
+the jewel; by chance I pressed the gem against her head. It was a mere
+trifle; yet it was of consequence. A few minutes before I had dropped a
+handkerchief on the opposite side of the room; I was just thinking about
+picking it up. It was only a small thing, yet it put us on the track
+of the gem's strangest potency. The dog walked to the handkerchief. She
+brought it back in her mouth. At first I took it for a pure coincidence.
+I repeated the experiment with a book. The same result. I looked up at
+Jerome.
+
+"What's the matter?" Then when I explained: "The dickens! Try it again."
+
+Over and over again we repeated it, using different articles, pieces of
+which I was certain she didn't know the name. There was a strange bond
+between the gem and the intelligence, some strange force emanating from
+its lustre. On myself it was depressing; on the dog it was life itself.
+At last Jerome had an inspiration.
+
+"Try the Rhamda," he said; "think of him. Perhaps--"
+
+It was most surprising. Certainly it was remarkable. It was too much
+like intelligence; a bit too uncanny. At the instant of the thought the
+dog leaped backward.
+
+Such a strange transformation; she was naturally gentle. In one
+instant she had gone mad. Mad? Not in the literal interpretation; but
+figuratively. She sprang back, snapping; her teeth bared, her hair
+bristled. Her nostrils drawn. With one bound she leaped between the
+curtains.
+
+Jerome jumped up. With an exclamation he drew the portieres. I was
+behind him. The dog was standing at the edge of the room, bristling.
+
+The room was empty. What did she see? What?
+
+One thing was certain. Though we were sure of nothing else we were
+certain of the Rhamda. We could trust the canine's instinct. Every
+previous experiment we had essayed had been crowned with success. We had
+here a fact but no explanation. If we could only put things together and
+extract the law.
+
+It was late when we retired. I could not sleep. The restlessness of the
+dog held back my slumber. She would growl sullenly, then stir about for
+a new position; she was never quite still. I could picture her there
+in the library, behind the curtains, crouched, half resting, half
+slumbering, always watching. I would awaken in the night and listen; a
+low guttural warning, a sullen whine--then stillness. It was the same
+with my companion. We could never quite understand it. Perhaps we were a
+bit afraid.
+
+But one can become accustomed to almost anything. It went on for many
+nights without anything happening, until one night.
+
+It was dark, exceedingly dark, with neither moon nor starlight; one of
+those nights of inky intenseness. I cannot say just exactly what woke
+me. The house was strangely silent and still; the air seemed stretched
+and laden. It was summer. Perhaps it was the heat. I only knew that I
+woke suddenly and blinked in the darkness.
+
+In the next room with the door open I could hear the heavy breathing
+of the detective. A heavy feeling lay against my heart. I had grown
+accustomed to dread and isolation; but this was different. Perhaps
+it was premonition. I do not know. And yet I was terribly sleepy; I
+remember that.
+
+I struck a match and looked at my watch on the bureau--twelve
+thirty-five. No sound--not even Queen--not even a rumble from the
+streets. I lay back and dropped into slumber. Just as I drifted off to
+sleep I had a blurring fancy of sound, guttural, whining, fearful--then
+suddenly drifting into incoherent rumbling phantasms--a dream. I awoke
+suddenly. Someone was speaking. It was Jerome.
+
+"Harry!"
+
+I was frightened. It was like something clutching out of the darkness.
+I sat up. I didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. The incoherence of my
+dream had been external. The library was just below me. I could hear the
+dog pacing to and fro, and her snarling. Snarling? It was just that. It
+was something to arouse terror.
+
+She had never growled like that--I was positive, I could hear her
+suddenly leap back from the curtains. She barked. Never before had she
+come to that. Then a sudden lunge into the other room--a vicious series
+of snapping barks, yelps--pandemonium--I could picture her leaping--at
+what? Then suddenly I leaped out of bed. The barks grew faint, faint,
+fainter--into the distance.
+
+In the darkness I couldn't find the switch. I bumped into Jerome. We
+were lost in our confusion. It was a moment before we could find either
+a match or a switch to turn on the lights. But at last--I shall not
+forget that moment; nor Jerome. He was rigid; one arm held
+aloft, his eyes bulged out. The whole house was full of
+sound--full-toned--vibrant--magnetic. It was the bell.
+
+I jumped for the stairway, but not so quick as Jerome. With three bounds
+we were in the library with the lights on. The sound was running down
+to silence. We tore down the curtains and rushed into the room. It was
+empty!
+
+There was not even the dog. Queen had gone! In a vain rush of grief I
+began calling and whistling. It was an overwhelming moment. The poor,
+brave shepherd. She had seen it and rushed into its face.
+
+It was the last night I was to have Jerome. We sat up until daylight.
+For the thousandth time we went over the house in detail, but there was
+nothing. Only the ring. At the suggestion of the detective I touched the
+match to the sapphire. It was the same. The colour diminishing, and the
+translucent corridors deepening into the distance; then the blur and the
+coming of shadows--the men, Watson and the professor--and my dog.
+
+Of the men, only the heads showed; but the dog was full figure; she was
+sitting, apparently on a pedestal, her tongue was lolling out of her
+mouth and her face of that gentle intelligence which only the Australian
+shepherd is heir to. That is all--no more--nothing. If we had hoped to
+discover anything through her medium we were disappointed. Instead of
+clearing up, the whole thing had grown deeper.
+
+I have said that it was the last night I was to have Jerome. I didn't
+know it then. Jerome went out early in the morning. I went to bed. I
+was not afraid in the daylight. I was certain now that the danger was
+localised. As long as I kept out of that apartment I had nothing to
+fear. Nevertheless, the thing was magnetic. A subtle weirdness pervaded
+the building. I did not sleep soundly. I was lonely; the isolation was
+crowding on me. In the afternoon I stepped out on the streets.
+
+I have spoken of my experience with the conductor. On this day I had the
+certainty of my isolation; it was startling. In the face of what I was
+and what I had seen it was almost terrifying. It was the first time
+I thought of sending for Hobart. I had thought I could hold out. The
+complete suddenness of the thing set me to thinking. I thought of
+Watson. It was the last phase, the feebleness, the wanness, the inertia!
+He had been a far stronger man than I in the beginning.
+
+I must cable Fenton. While I had still an ego in the presence of men, I
+must reach out for help. It was a strange thing and inexplicable. I was
+not invisible. Don't think that. I simply did not individualise. Men
+didn't notice me--till I spoke. As if I was imperceptibly losing the
+essence of self. I still had some hold on the world. While it remained I
+must get word to Hobart. I did not delay. Straight to the office I went
+and paid for the cable.
+
+CANNOT HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER. COME AT ONCE.--HARRY.
+
+I was a bit ashamed. I had hoped. I had counted upon myself. I
+had trusted in the full strength of my individuality. I had been
+healthy--strong--full blooded. On the fullness of vitality one would
+live forever. There is no tomorrow. It was not a year ago. I was eighty.
+It had been so with Watson. What was this subtle thing that ate into
+one's marrow? I had read of banshees, lemures and leprechauns; they were
+the ghosts and the fairies of ignorance but they were not like this. It
+was impersonal, hidden, inexorable. It was mystery. And I believed that
+it was Nature.
+
+I know it now. Even as I write I can sense the potency of the force
+about me. Some law, some principle, some force that science has not
+uncovered.
+
+What is that law that shall bridge the chaos between the mystic and the
+substantial? I am standing on the bridge; and I cannot see it. What is
+the great law that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb? Who is the Rhamda? Who
+is the Nervina?
+
+Jerome has not returned. I cannot understand it. It has been a week. I
+am living on brandy--not much of anything else--I am waiting for Fenton.
+I have taken all my elaborations and notes and put them together.
+Perhaps I--
+
+(This is the last of the strange document left by Harry Wendel. The
+following memorandum is written by Charlotte Fenton.)
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+CHARLOTTE'S STORY
+
+
+I do not know. It is hard to write after what has happened.
+
+Hobart says that it is why I am to write it. It is to be a plain
+narrative. Besides, he is very busy and cannot do it himself. There must
+be some record. I shall do my best and hold out of my writing as much as
+I can of my emotion. I shall start with the Nervina.
+
+It was the first I knew; the first warning. Looking back I cannot but
+wonder. No person I think who has ever seen the Nervina can do much
+else; she is so beautiful! Beautiful? Why do I say it? I should be
+jealous and I should hate her. Yet I do not. Why is it?
+
+It was about eight months after Hobart had left for South America. I
+remember those eight months as the longest in my life; because of Harry.
+I am a girl and I like attention; all girls do. Ordinarily he would come
+over every fortnight at least. After Hobart had gone he came once only,
+and of course I resented the inattention.
+
+It seemed to me that no business could be of enough importance if he
+really loved me. Even his letters were few and far between. What he
+wrote were slow and weary and of an undertone that I could not fathom.
+I--loved Harry. I could not understand it. I had a thousand fearful
+thoughts and jealousies; but they were feminine and in no way
+approximated even the beginning of the truth. Inattention was not like
+Harry. It was not until the coming of the Nervina that I was afraid.
+
+Afraid? I will not say that--exactly. It was rather a suspicion, a queer
+undercurrent of wonder and doubt. The beauty of the girl, her interest
+in Harry and myself, her concern over this ring, put me a bit on guard.
+I wondered what this ring had to do with Harry Wendel.
+
+She did not tell me in exact words or in literal explanation; but she
+managed to convey all too well a lurking impression of its sinister
+potency. It was something baleful, something the very essence of which
+would break down the life of one who wore it. Harry had come into its
+possession by accident and she would save him. She had failed through
+direct appeal. Now she had come to me. She did not say a word of the
+Blind Spot.
+
+And the next day came Harry. It was really a shock, though I had been
+warned by the girl. He was not Harry at all, but another. His eyes were
+dim and they had lost their lustre; when they did show light at all,
+it was a kind that was a bit fearful. He was wan, worn, and shrunk to a
+shadow, as if he had gone through a long illness.
+
+He said he had not been sick. He maintained that he was quite well
+physically. And on his finger was the ring of which the girl had spoken.
+Its value must have been incalculable. Wherever he moved his hand its
+blue flame cut a path through the darkness. But he said nothing about
+it. I waited and wondered and was afraid. It was not until our walk
+under the elm trees that it was mentioned.
+
+It was a full moon; a wonderful, mellow moon of summer. He stopped
+suddenly and gazed up at the orb above us. It seemed to me that his
+mind was wandering, he held me closely--tenderly. He was not at all
+like Harry. There was a missing of self, of individuality; he spoke in
+abstractions.
+
+"The maiden of the moonbeams?" he said. "What can it mean?"
+
+And then I asked him. He has already told of our conversation. It was
+the ring of which the Nervina had told me. It had to do with the Blind
+Spot--the great secret that had taken Dr. Holcomb. He would not give it
+to me. I worked hard, for even then I was not afraid of it. Something
+told me--I must do it to save him. It was weird, and something I could
+not understand--but I must do it for Harry.
+
+I failed. Though he was broken in every visible way there was one thing
+as strong as ever--his honour. He was not afraid; he had been the same
+in his boyhood. When we parted that night he kissed me. I shall never
+forget how long he looked into my eyes, nor his sadness. That is all.
+The next morning he left for San Francisco.
+
+And then came the end. A message; abrupt and sudden. It was some time
+after and put a period to my increasing stress and worry. It read:
+
+CITY OF PERU DOCKS TONIGHT AT EIGHT. MEET ME AT THE PIER. HOBART
+COMING,--HARRY.
+
+It was a short message and a bit twisted. In ordinary circumstances he
+would have motored down and brought me back to greet Hobart. It was a
+bit strange that I should meet him at the pier. However, I had barely
+time to get to the city if I hurried.
+
+I shall never forget that night.
+
+It was dark when I reached San Francisco. I was a full twenty minutes
+early at the pier. A few people were waiting. I looked about for Harry.
+He was to meet me and I was certain that I would find him. But he was
+not there. Of course there was still time. He was sure to be on hand to
+greet Hobart.
+
+Nevertheless, I had a vague mistrust. Since that strange visit I had not
+been sure. Harry wasn't well. There was something to this mystery that
+he had not told me. Why had he asked me to meet him at the pier? Why
+didn't he come? When the boat docked and he was still missing I was
+doubly worried.
+
+Hobart came down the gangplank. He was great, strong, healthy, and it
+seemed to me in a terrible hurry. He scanned the faces hurriedly and ran
+over to me.
+
+"Where's Harry?" He kissed me and in the same breath repeated, "Where's
+Harry?"
+
+"Oh, Hobart!" I exclaimed. "What's the matter with Harry? Tell me. It's
+something terrible!"
+
+He was afraid. Plainly I could see that! There were lines of anxiety
+about his eyes. He clutched me by the arm and drew me away.
+
+"He was to meet me here," I said. "He didn't come. He was to meet me
+here! Oh, Hobart, I saw him some time ago. He was--it was not Harry at
+all! Do you know anything about it?"
+
+For a minute he stood still, looking at me. I had never seen Hobart
+frightened; but at that moment there was that in his eyes which I could
+not understand. He caught me by the arm and started out almost at a
+run. There were many people and we dodged in and out among them. Hobart
+carried a suitcase. He hailed a taxi.
+
+I don't know how I got into the car. It was a blur. I was frightened.
+Some terrible thing had occurred, and Hobart knew it. I remember a few
+words spoken to the driver. "Speed, speed, no limit; never mind the
+law--and Chatterton Place!" After that the convulsive jerking over the
+cobbled streets, a climbing over hills and twisted corners. And Hobart
+at my side. "Faster--faster," he was saying; "faster! My lord, was there
+ever a car so slow! Harry! Harry!" I could hear him breathing a prayer.
+Another hill; the car turned and came suddenly to a stop! Hobart leaped
+out.
+
+A sombre two-storey house; a light burning in one of the windows, a dim
+light, almost subdued and uncanny. I had never seen anything so lonely
+as that light; it was grey, uncertain, scarcely a flicker. Perhaps
+it was my nerves. I had scarcely strength to climb the steps. Hobart
+grasped the knob and thrust open the door; I can never forget it.
+
+It is hard to write. The whole thing! The room; the walls lined with
+books; the dim, pale light, the faded green carpet, and the man. Pale,
+worn, almost a shadow of his former self. Was it Harry Wendel? He had
+aged forty years. He was stooped, withered, exhausted. A bottle
+of brandy on the desk before him. In his weak, thin hand an empty
+wineglass. The gem upon his finger glowed with a flame that was almost
+wicked; it was blue, burning, giving out sparkles of light--like a
+colour out of hell. The path of its light was unholy--it was too much
+alive.
+
+We both sprang forward. Hobart seized him by the shoulders.
+
+"Harry, old boy; Harry! Don't you know us? It's Hobart and Charlotte."
+
+It was terrible. He didn't seem to know. He looked right at us. But he
+spoke in abstractions.
+
+"Two," he said. And he listened. "Two! Don't you hear it?" He caught
+Hobart by the arm. "Now, listen. Two! No, it's three. Did I say three?
+Can't you hear? It's the old lady. She speaks out of the shadows. There!
+There! Now, listen. She has been counting to me. Always she says three!
+Soon it will be four."
+
+What did he mean? What was it about? Who was the old lady? I looked
+round. I saw no one. Hobart stooped over. Harry began slowly to
+recognise us. It was as if his mind had wandered and was coming back
+from a far place. He spoke slowly; his words were incoherent and
+rambling.
+
+"Hobart," he said; "you know her. She is the maiden out of the
+moonbeams. The Rhamda, he is our enemy. Hobart, Charlotte. I know so
+much. I cannot tell you. You are two hours late. It's a strange thing. I
+have found it and I think I know. It came suddenly. The discovery of the
+great professor. Why didn't you come two hours earlier? We might have
+conquered."
+
+He dropped his head upon his arms; then as suddenly he looked up. He
+drew the ring from his finger.
+
+"Give it to Charlotte," he said. "It won't hurt her. Don't touch it
+yourself. Had I only known. Watson didn't know--"
+
+He straightened; he was tense, rigid, listening.
+
+"Do you hear anything? Listen! Can you hear? It's the old lady. There--"
+
+But there was not a sound; only the rumble of the streets, the ticking
+of the clock, and our heart-beats. Again he went through the counting.
+
+"Hobart!"
+
+"Yes, Harry."
+
+"And Charlotte! The ring--ah, yet it was there, Keep it. Give it to no
+one. Two hours ago we might have conquered. But I had to keep the ring.
+It was too much, too powerful; a man may not wear it. Charlotte"--he
+took my hand and ran the ring upon my finger. "Poor Charlotte. Here is
+the ring. The most wonderful--"
+
+Again he dropped over. He was weak--there was something going from him
+minute by minute.
+
+"Water," he asked. "Hobart, some water."
+
+It was too pitiful. Harry, our Harry--come to a strait like this! Hobart
+rushed to another room with the tumbler. I could hear him fumbling. I
+stooped over Harry. But he held up his hand.
+
+"No, Charlotte, no. You must not. If--"
+
+He stopped. Again the strange attention, as if he was listening to
+something far off in the distance; the pupils of his hollow, worn,
+lustreless eyes were pin-points. He stood on his feet rigid, quivering;
+then he held up his hand. "Listen!"
+
+But there was nothing. It was just as before; merely the murmuring of
+the city night, and the clock ticking.
+
+"It's the dog! D'you hear her? And the old lady. Now listen, 'Two!
+Now there are two! Three! Three! Now there are three!' There--now." He
+turned to me. "Can you hear it, Charlotte? No? How strange. Perhaps--"
+He pointed to the corner of the room. "That paper. Will you--"
+
+I shall always go over that moment. I have thought over it many times
+and have wondered at the sequence. Had I not stepped across the library,
+what would have happened?
+
+What was it.
+
+I had stooped to pick up the piece of paper. There came a queer,
+cracking, snapping sound, almost audible, I have a strange recollection
+of Harry standing up by the side of the desk--a flitting
+vision. An intuition of some terrible force. It was out of
+nothing--nowhere--approaching. I turned about. And I saw it--the dot of
+blue.
+
+Blue! That is what it was at first. Blue and burning, like the flame
+of a million jewels centred into a needlepoint. On the ceiling directly
+above Harry's head. It was scintillating, coruscating, opalescent; but
+it was blue most of all. It was the colour of life and of death; it was
+burning, throbbing, concentrated. I tried to scream. But I was frozen
+with horror. The dot changed colour and went to a dead-blue. It seemed
+to grow larger and to open. Then it turned to white and dropped like a
+string of incandescence, touching Harry on the head.
+
+What was it? It was all so sudden. A door flung open and a swish of
+rushing silk. A woman! A beautiful girl! The Nervina! It was she!
+
+Never have I seen anyone like her. She was so beautiful. In her face all
+the compassion a woman is heir to. For scarcely a second she stopped.
+
+"Charlotte," she called. "Charlotte--oh, why didn't you save him! He
+loves you!" Then she turned to Harry. "It shall not be. He shall not go
+alone. I shall save him, even beyond--"
+
+With that she rushed upon Harry. It was all done in an instant. Her arms
+were outstretched to the dimming form of Harry and the incandescence.
+The splendid impassioned girl. Their forms intermingled. A blur of her
+beautiful body and Harry's wan, weary face. A flash of light, a thread
+of incandescence, a quiver--and they were gone.
+
+The next I knew was the strong arms of my brother Hobart. He gave me the
+water he had fetched for Harry. He was terribly upset, but very calm. He
+held the glass up to my lips. He was speaking.
+
+"Don't worry. Don't worry. I know now. I think I know. I was just in
+time to see them go. I heard the bell. Harry is safe. It is the Nervina.
+I shall get Harry. We'll solve the Blind Spot."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+HOBART FENTON TAKES UP THE TALE
+
+
+Right here at the outset, I had better make a clean breast of something
+which the reader will very soon suspect, anyhow: I am a plain, unpoetic,
+blunt-speaking man, trained as a civil engineer, and in most respects
+totally dissimilar from the man who wrote the first account of the Blind
+Spot.
+
+Harry had already touched upon this. He came of an artistic family. I
+think he must have taken up law in the hope that the old saying would
+prove true: "The only certain thing about law is its uncertainty." For
+he dearly loved the mysterious, the unknowable; he liked uncertainty for
+its excitement: and it is a mighty good thing that he was honest, for he
+would have made a highly dangerous crook.
+
+Observe that I use the past tense in referring to my old friend. I do
+this in the interests of strict, scientific accuracy, to satisfy those
+who would contend that, having utterly vanished from sight and sound of
+man, Harry Wendel is no more.
+
+But in my own heart is the firm conviction that he is still very much
+alive.
+
+Within an hour of his astounding disappearance, my sister, Charlotte,
+and I made our way to an hotel; and despite the terrible nature of what
+had happened, we managed to get a few hours rest. The following morning
+Charlotte declared herself quite strong enough to discuss the situation.
+We lost no time.
+
+It will be remembered that I had spent nearly the whole of the preceding
+year in South America, putting through an irrigation scheme. Thus, I
+knew little of what had occurred in that interval. On the other hand,
+Harry and I had never seen fit to take Charlotte into our confidence as,
+I now see, we should have done.
+
+So we fairly pounced upon the manuscript which Harry had left behind.
+And by the time we had finished reading it, I for one, had reached one
+solid conclusion.
+
+"I'm convinced," I said, "that the stranger--Rhamda Avec--is an
+out-and-out villain. Despite his agreeable ways, I think he was solely
+and deliberately to blame for Professor Holcomb's disappearance.
+Consequently, this Rhamda is, in himself, a very valuable clue as to
+Harry's present predicament."
+
+Referring to Harry's notes, I pointed out the fact that, although Avec
+had often been seen on the streets of San Francisco, yet the police had
+never been able to lay hands on him. This seemed to indicate that
+the man might possess the power of actually making himself visible or
+invisible, at will.
+
+"Only"--I was careful to add--"understand, I don't rank him as a
+magician, or sorcerer; nothing like that. I'd rather think that he's
+merely in possession of a scientific secret, no more wonderful in
+itself than, say, wireless. He's merely got hold of it in advance of the
+others; that's all."
+
+"Then you think that the woman, too, is human?"
+
+"The Nervina?" I hesitated. "Perhaps you know more of this part of the
+thing than I do."
+
+"I only know"--slowly--"that she came and told me that Harry was soon to
+call. And somehow, I never felt jealous of her, Hobart." Then she added:
+"At the same time, I can understand that Harry might--might have fallen
+in love with her. She--she was very beautiful."
+
+Charlotte is a brave girl. She kept her voice as steady as my own.
+
+We next discussed the disappearance of Chick Watson. These details are
+already familiar to the reader of Harry's story; likewise what happened
+to Queen, his Australian shepherd. Like the other vanishings, it was
+followed by a single stroke on that prodigious, invisible bell--what
+Harry calls "The Bell of the Blind Spot." And he has already mentioned
+my opinion, that this phenomenon signifies the closing of the portal of
+the unknown--the end of the special conditions which produce the bluish
+spot on the ceiling, the incandescent streak of light, and the vanishing
+of whoever falls into the affected region. The mere fact that no trace
+of the bell ever was found has not shaken my opinion.
+
+And thus we reached the final disappearance, that which took away Harry.
+Charlotte contrived to keep her voice as resolute as before, as she
+said:
+
+"He and the Nervina vanished together. I turned round just as she rushed
+in, crying out, 'I can't let you go alone! I'll save you, even beyond.'
+That's all she said, before--it happened."
+
+"You saw nothing of the Rhamda then?"
+
+"No."
+
+And we had neither seen nor heard of him since. Until we got in touch
+with him, one important clue as to Harry's fate was out of our reach.
+There remained to us just one thread of hope--the ring, which Charlotte
+was now wearing on her finger.
+
+I lit a match and held it to the face of the gem. As happened many times
+before, the stone exhibited its most astounding quality. As soon as
+faintly heated, the surface at first clouded, then cleared in a curious
+fashion, revealing a startling distinct, miniature likeness of the four
+who had vanished into the Blind Spot.
+
+I make no attempt to explain this. Somehow or other, that stone
+possesses a telescopic quality which brings to a focus, right in front
+of the beholder's eyes, a tiny "close-up" of our vanished friends. Also,
+the gem magnifies what it reveals, so that there is not the slightest
+doubt that Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson, Queen and Harry Wendel are
+actually reproduced--I shall not say, contained--in that gem. Neither
+shall I say that they are reflected; they are simply reproduced there.
+
+Also, it should be understood that their images are living. Only the
+heads and shoulders of the men are to be seen; but there is animation
+of the features, such as cannot be mistaken. Granted that these four
+vanished in the Blind Spot--whatever that is--and granted that this ring
+is some inexplicable window or vestibule between that locality and this
+commonplace world of ours, then, manifestly, it would seem that all four
+are still alive.
+
+"I am sure of it!" declared Charlotte, managing to smile, wistfully,
+at the living reproduction of her sweetheart. "And I think Harry did
+perfectly right, in handing it to me to keep."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, if for no other reason than because it behaves so differently
+with me, than it did with him.
+
+"Hobart, I am inclined to think that this fact is very significant. If
+Chick had only known of it, he wouldn't have insisted that Harry should
+wear it; and then--"
+
+"Can't be helped," I interrupted quickly. "Chick didn't know; he was
+only certain that someone--SOMEONE--must wear the ring; that it mustn't
+pass out of the possession of humans. Moreover, much as Rhamda Avec may
+desire it--and the Nervina, too--neither can secure it through the use
+of force. Nobody knows why."
+
+Charlotte shivered. "I'm afraid there's something spooky about it, after
+all."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," with a conviction that has never left me. "This
+ring is a perfectly sound fact, as indisputable as the submarine.
+There's nothing supernatural about it; for that matter, I personally
+doubt if there's ANYTHING supernatural. Every phenomenon which seems,
+at first, so wonderful, becomes commonplace enough as soon as explained.
+Isn't it true that you yourself are already getting used to that ring?"
+
+"Ye--es," reluctantly. "That is, partly. If only it were someone other
+than Harry!"
+
+"Of course," I hurried to say, "I only wanted to make it clear that
+we haven't any witchcraft to deal with. This whole mystery will become
+plain as day, and that damned soon!"
+
+"You've got a theory?"--hopefully.
+
+"Several; that's the trouble!" I had to admit. "I don't know which is
+best to follow out.--It may be a spiritualistic thing after all. Or
+it may fall under the head of 'abnormal psychology'. Nothing but
+hallucinations, in other words."
+
+"Oh, that won't do!"--evidently distressed. "I know what I saw! I'd
+doubt my reason if I thought I'd only fancied it!"
+
+"So would I. Well, laying aside the spiritualistic theory, there remains
+the possibility of some hitherto undiscovered scientific secret. And
+if the Rhamda is in possession of it, then the matter simmers down to a
+plain case of villainy."
+
+"But how does he do it?"
+
+"That's the whole question. However, I'm sure of this"--I was fingering
+the ring as I spoke. The reproduction of our friends had faded, now,
+leaving that dully glowing pale blue light once more. "This ring is
+absolutely real; it's no hallucination. It performs as well in broad
+daylight as in the night; no special conditions needed. It's neither a
+fraud nor an illusion.
+
+"In short, this ring is merely a phenomenon which science has not YET
+explained! That it can and will be explained is strictly up to us! Once
+we understand its peculiar properties, we can mighty soon rescue Harry!"
+
+And it was just then that a most extraordinary thing occurred. It
+happened so very unexpectedly, so utterly without warning, that it makes
+me shaky to this day whenever I recall it.
+
+From the gem on Charlotte's finger--or rather, from the air surrounding
+the ring--came an unmistakable sound. We saw nothing whatever; we only
+heard. And it was clear, as loud and as startling as though it had
+occurred right in the room where we were discussing the situation.
+
+It was the sharp, joyous bark of a dog.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+THE HOUSE OF MIRACLES
+
+
+Looking back over what has just been written, I am sensible of a
+profound gratitude. I am grateful, both because I have been given the
+privilege of relating these events, and because I shall not have to
+leave this wilderness of facts for someone else to explain.
+
+Really, if I did not know that I shall have the pleasure of piecing
+together these phenomena and of setting my finger upon the comparatively
+simple explanation; if I had to go away and leave this account
+unfinished, a mere collection of curiosity-provoking mysteries, I should
+not speak at all. I should leave the whole affair for another to finish,
+as it ought to be finished.
+
+All of which, it will soon appear, I am setting forth largely in order
+to brace and strengthen myself against what I must now relate.
+
+Before resuming, however, I should mention one detail which Harry was
+too modest to mention. He was--or is--unusually good-looking. I don't
+mean to claim that he possessed any Greek-god beauty; such wouldn't gibe
+with a height of five foot seven. No; his good looks were due to the
+simple outward expression, through his features, of a certain noble
+inward quality which would have made the homeliest face attractive.
+Selfishness will spoil the handsomest features; unselfishness will
+glorify.
+
+Moreover, simply because he had given his word to Chick Watson that he
+would wear the ring, Harry took upon himself the most dangerous task
+that any man could assume, and he had lost. But had he known in advance
+exactly what was going to happen to him, he would have stuck to his
+word, anyhow. And since there was a sporting risk attached to it, since
+the thing was not perfectly sure to end tragically, he probably enjoyed
+the greater part of his experience.
+
+But I'm not like that. Frankly, I'm an opportunist; essentially, a
+practical sort of fellow. I have a great admiration for idealists, but
+a much greater admiration for results. For instance, I have seldom given
+my word, even though the matter is unimportant; for I will cheerfully
+break my word if, later on, it should develop that the keeping of my
+word would do more harm than good.
+
+I realise perfectly well that it is dangerous ground to tread upon; yet
+I must refer the reader to what I have accomplished in this world, as
+proof that my philosophy is not as bad as it looks.
+
+I beg nobody's pardon for talking about myself so much at the outset.
+This account will be utterly incomprehensible if I am not understood. My
+method of solving the Blind Spot mystery is, when analysed, merely the
+expression of my personality. My sole idea has been to get RESULTS.
+
+As Harry has put it, a proposition must be reduced to concrete form
+before I will have anything to do with it. If the Blind Spot had been
+a totally occult affair, demanding that the investigation be conducted
+under cover of darkness, surrounded by black velvet, crystal spheres and
+incense; demanding the aid of a clairvoyant or other "medium," I should
+never have gone near it. But as soon as the mystery began to manifest
+itself in terms that I could understand, appreciate and measure, then I
+took interest.
+
+That is why old Professor Holcomb appealed to me; he had proposed that
+we prove the occult by physical means. "Reduce it to the scope of our
+five senses," he had said, in effect. From that moment on I was his
+disciple.
+
+I have told of hearing that sharp, welcoming bark, emitted either from
+the gem or from the air surrounding it. This event took place on the
+front porch of the house at 288 Chatterton Place, as Charlotte and I sat
+there talking it over. We had taken a suite at the hotel, but had come
+to the house of the Blind Spot in order to decide upon a course of
+action. And, in a way, that mysterious barking decided it for us.
+
+We returned to the hotel, and gave notice that we would leave the next
+day. Next, we began to make preparations for moving into the Chatterton
+Place dwelling.
+
+That afternoon, while in the midst of giving orders for furnishings and
+the like, there at the hotel, I was called to the telephone. It was from
+a point outside the building.
+
+"Mr. Fenton?"--in a man's voice. And when I had assured him; "You have
+no reason to recognise my voice. I am--Rhamda Avec."
+
+"The Rhamda! What do you want?"
+
+"To speak with your sister, Mr. Fenton." Odd how very agreeable the
+man's tones! "Will you kindly call her to the telephone?"
+
+I saw no objection. However, when Charlotte came to my side I whispered
+for her to keep the man waiting while I darted out into the corridor and
+slipped downstairs, where the girl at the switchboard put an instrument
+into the circuit for me. Money talks. However--
+
+"My dear child," the voice of Avec was saying, "you do me an injustice.
+I have nothing but your welfare at heart. I assure you that if anything
+should happen to you and your brother while at Chatterton Place, it will
+be through no fault of mine.
+
+"At the same time I can positively assure you that, if you stay away
+from there, no harm will come to either of you; absolutely none! I can
+guarantee that. Don't ask me why; but, if you value your safety, stay
+where you are, or go elsewhere, anywhere other than to the house in
+Chatterton Place."
+
+"I can hardly agree with you, Mr. Avec." Plainly Charlotte was deeply
+impressed with the man's sincerity and earnestness. "My brother's
+judgment is so much better than mine, that I--" and she paused
+regretfully.
+
+"I only wish," with his remarkable gracefulness, "that your intuition
+were as strong as your loyalty to your brother. If it were, you would
+know that I speak the truth when I say that I have only your welfare at
+heart."
+
+"I--I am sorry, Mr. Avec."
+
+"Fortunately, there is one alternative," even more agreeable than
+before. "If you prefer not to take my advice, but cling to your
+brother's decision, you can still avoid the consequences of his
+determination to live in that house. As I say, I cannot prevent harm
+from befalling you, under present conditions; but these conditions
+can be completely altered if you will make a single concession, Miss
+Fenton."
+
+"What is it?" eagerly.
+
+"That you give me the ring!"
+
+He paused for a very tense second. I wished I could see his peculiar,
+young-old face--the face with the inscrutable eyes; the face that urged,
+rather than inspired, both curiosity and confidence.
+
+Then he added:
+
+"I know why you wear it; I realise that the trinket carries some very
+tender associations. And I would never ask such a concession did I not
+know, were your beloved here at this moment, he would endorse every word
+that I say, and--"
+
+"Harry!" cried Charlotte, her voice shaking. "He would tell me to give
+it to you?"
+
+"I am sure of it! It is as though he, through me, were urging you to do
+this!"
+
+For some moments there was silence. Charlotte must have been
+tremendously impressed. It certainly was amazing the degree of
+confidence that Avec's voice induced. I wouldn't have been greatly
+surprised had my sister--
+
+"Mr. Avec," came Charlotte's voice, hesitatingly, almost sorrowfully.
+"I--I would like to believe you; but--but Harry himself gave me the
+ring, and I feel--oh, I'm sure that my brother would never agree to it!"
+
+"I understand." Somehow the fellow managed to conceal any disappointment
+he may have felt. He contrived to show only a deep sympathy for
+Charlotte as he finished: "If I find it possible to protect you, I
+shall, Miss Fenton."
+
+After it was all over, and I returned to the rooms, Charlotte and
+I concluded that it might have been better had we made some sort of
+compromise. If we had made a partial concession, he might have told us
+something of the mystery. We ought to have bargained. We decided that if
+he made any attempt to carry out what I felt sure were merely a thinly
+veiled threat to punish us for keeping the gem, we must not only be
+ready for whatever he might do, but try to trap and keep him as well.
+
+That same day found us back at Chatterton Place. Inside, there was
+altogether too much evidence that the place had been bachelors'
+quarters.
+
+The first step was to clean up. We hired lots of help, and made a quick
+thorough job of both floors. The basement we left untouched. And the
+next day we put a force of painters and decorators to work; whereby
+hangs the tale.
+
+"Mr. Fenton," called the head painter, as he varnished the "trim" in the
+parlour, "I wish you'd come and see what to make of this."
+
+I stepped into the front room. He was pointing to the long piece of
+finish which spanned the doorway leading into the dining-room. And he
+indicated a spot almost in the exact middle, a spot covering a space
+about five inches broad and as high as the width of the wood. In outline
+it was roughly octagonal.
+
+"I've been trying my best," stated Johnson, "to varnish that spot for
+the past five minutes. But I'll be darned if I can do it!"
+
+And he showed what he meant. Every other part of the door glistened
+with freshly applied varnish; but the octagonal region remained dull, as
+though no liquid had ever touched it. Johnson dipped his brush into the
+can, and applied a liberal smear of the fluid to the place. Instantly
+the stuff disappeared.
+
+"Blamed porous piece of wood," eyeing me queerly. "Or--do you think it's
+merely porous, Mr. Fenton?"
+
+For answer I took a brush and repeatedly daubed the place. It was like
+dropping ink on a blotter. The wood sucked up the varnish as a desert
+might suck up water.
+
+"There's about a quart of varnish in the wood already," observed
+Johnson, as I stared and pondered. "Suppose we take it down and weigh
+it?"
+
+Inside of a minute we had that piece of trim down from its place. First,
+I carefully examined the timber framework behind, expecting to see
+traces of the varnish where, presumably, it had seeped through. There
+was no sign. Then I inspected the reverse side of the finish, just
+behind the peculiar spot. I thought I might see a region of wide open
+pores in the grain of the pine. But the back looked exactly the same as
+the front, with no difference in the grain at any place.
+
+Placing the finish right side up, I proceeded to daub the spot some
+more. There was no change in the results. At last I took the can, and
+without stopping, poured a quart and a half of the fluid into that
+paradoxical little area.
+
+"Well I'll be darned!"--very loudly from Johnson. But when I looked up I
+saw his face was white, and his lips shaking.
+
+His nerves were all a-jangle. To give his mind a rest, I sent him for a
+hatchet. When he came back his face had regained its colour. I directed
+him to hold the pine upright, while I, with a single stroke, sank the
+tool into the end of the wood.
+
+It split part way. A jerk, and the wood fell in two halves.
+
+"Well?" from Johnson, blankly.
+
+"Perfectly normal wood, apparently." I had to admit that it was
+impossible to distinguish the material which constituted the peculiar
+spot from that which surrounded it.
+
+I sent Johnson after more varnish. Also, I secured several other fluids,
+including water, milk, ink, and machine oil. And when the painter
+returned we proceeded with a very thorough test indeed.
+
+Presently it became clear that we were dealing with a phenomenon of the
+Blind Spot. All told, we poured about nine pints of liquid into an area
+of about twenty square inches; all on the outer surface, for the
+split side would absorb nothing. And to all appearances we might have
+continued to pour indefinitely.
+
+Ten minutes later I went down into the basement to dispose of some
+rubbish. (Charlotte didn't know of this defection in our housekeeping.)
+It was bright sunlight outside. Thanks to the basement windows, I needed
+no artificial luminant. And when my gaze rested upon the ground directly
+under the parlour, I saw something there that I most certainly had never
+noticed before.
+
+The fact is, the basement at 288 Chatterton Place never did possess
+anything worthy of special notice. Except for the partition which
+Harry Wendel and Jerome, the detective, were the first in years to
+penetrate--except for that secret doorway, there was nothing down there
+to attract attention. To be sure, there was a quantity of up-turned
+earth, the result of Jerome's vigorous efforts to see whether or not
+there was any connection between the Blind Spot phenomena which he had
+witnessed and the cellar. He had secured nothing but an appetite for all
+his digging.
+
+However, it was still too dark for me to identify what I saw at once. I
+stood for a few moments, accustoming my eyes to the light. Except that
+the thing gleamed oddly like a piece of glass, and that it possessed
+a nearly circular outline about two feet across, I couldn't tell much
+about it.
+
+Then I stooped and examined it closely. At once I became conscious of a
+smell which, somehow, I had hitherto not noticed. Small wonder; it
+was as indescribable a smell as one could imagine. It seemed to be a
+combination of several that are not generally combined.
+
+Next instant it flashed upon me that the predominating odour was a
+familiar one. I had been smelling it, in fact, all the morning.
+
+But this did not prevent me from feeling very queer, indeed, as I
+realised what lay before me. A curious chill passed around my shoulders,
+and I scarcely breathed.
+
+At my feet lay a pool, composed of all the various liquids that had been
+poured, upstairs, into that baffling spot in the wood.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+OUT OF THIN AIR
+
+
+Except for the incident just related, when several pints of very real
+fluids were somehow "materialised" at a spot ten feet below where they
+had vanished, nothing worth recording occurred during the first seven
+days of our stay at Chatterton Place.
+
+Seemingly nothing was to come of the Rhamda's warning.
+
+On the other hand we succeeded, during that week, in working a complete
+transformation of the old house. It became one of the brightest spots in
+San Francisco. It cost a good deal of money, all told, but I could well
+afford it. I possessed the hundred thousand with which, I had promised
+myself and Harry, I should solve the Blind Spot. That was what the money
+was for.
+
+On the seventh day after the night of Harry's going, our household was
+increased to three members. For it was then that Jerome returned from
+Nevada, whence he had gone two weeks before on a case.
+
+"Not at all surprised," he commented, when I told him of Harry's
+disappearance. "Sorry I wasn't here. That crook, Rhamda Avec, in at the
+end?"
+
+He gnawed stolidly at his cigar as I told him the story. Then, after
+briefly approving what I had done to brighten the house, he announced:
+
+"Tell you what. I've got a little money out of that Nevada case; I'm
+going to take another vacation and see this thing through."
+
+We shook hands on this, and he moved right into his old room. I felt, in
+fact, mighty glad to have Jerome with us. Although he lacked a regular
+academic training, he was fifteen years my senior, and because of
+contact with a wide variety of people in his work, both well-informed
+and reserved in his judgment. He could not be stampeded; he had courage;
+and, above everything else, he had the burning curiosity of which Harry
+has written.
+
+I was upstairs when he unpacked. And I noted among his belongings a
+large, rather heavy automatic pistol. He nodded when I asked if he was
+willing to use it in this case.
+
+"Although"--unbuttoning his waistcoat--"I don't pin as much faith to
+pistols as I used to.
+
+"The Rhamda is, I'm convinced, the very cleverest proposition that
+ever lived. He has means to handle practically anything in the way of
+resistance." Jerome knew how the fellow had worsted Harry and me. "I
+shouldn't wonder if he can read the mind to some extent; he might be
+able to foresee that I was going to draw a gun, and beat me to it with
+some new weapon of his own."
+
+Having unbuttoned his waistcoat, Jerome then displayed a curious
+contrivance mounted upon his breast. It consisted of a broad metal
+plate, strapped across his shirt, and affixed to this plate was a
+flat-springed arrangement for firing, simultaneously, the contents of
+a revolver cylinder. To show how it worked, Jerome removed the five
+cartridges and then faced me.
+
+"Tell me to throw up my hands," directed he. I did so; his palms flew
+into the air; and with a steely snap the mechanism was released.
+
+Had there been cartridges in it, I should have been riddled, for I
+stood right in front. And I shuddered as I noted the small straps around
+Jerome's wrists, running up his sleeves, so disposed that the act of
+surrendering meant instant death to him who might demand.
+
+"May not be ethical, Fenton"--quietly--"but it certainly is good sense
+to shoot first and explain later when you're handling a chap like Avec.
+Better make preparations, too."
+
+I objected. I pointed out what I have already mentioned; that, together
+with the ring, the Rhamda offered our only clues to the Blind Spot.
+Destroy the man and we would destroy one of our two hopes of rescuing
+our friends from the unthinkable fate that had overtaken them.
+
+"No"--decisively. "We don't want to kill; we want to KEEP him. Bullets
+won't do. I see no reason, however, why you shouldn't load that thing
+with cartridges containing chemicals which would have an effect similar
+to that of a gas bomb. Once you can make him helpless, so that you can
+put those steel bracelets on him, we'll see how dangerous he is with his
+hands behind him!"
+
+"I get you"--thoughtfully. "I know a chemist who will make up
+'Paralysis' gas for me, in the form of gelatine capsules. Shoot 'em at
+the Rhamda; burst upon striking. Safe enough for me, and yet put him out
+of business long enough to fit him with the jewellery."
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+But I had other notions about handling the Rhamda. Being satisfied that
+mere strength and agility were valueless against him, I concluded that
+he, likewise realising this, would be on the lookout for any possible
+trap.
+
+Consequently, if I hoped to keep the man, and force him to tell us what
+we wanted to know, then I must make use of something other than physical
+means. Moreover, I gave him credit for an exceptional amount of insight.
+Call it super-instinct, or what you will, the fellow's intellect was
+transcendental.
+
+Once having decided that it must be a battle of wits I took a step which
+may seem, at first, a little peculiar.
+
+I called upon a certain lady to whom I shall give the name of Clarke,
+since that is not the correct one. I took her fully and frankly into my
+confidence. It is the only way, when dealing with a practitioner. And
+since, like most of my fellow citizens, she had heard something of
+the come and go, elusive habits of our men, together with the Holcomb
+affair, it was easy for her to understand just what I wanted.
+
+"I see," she mused. "You wish to be surrounded by an influence that will
+not so much protect you, as vitalise and strengthen you whenever you
+come in contact with Avec. It will be a simple matter. How far do
+you wish to go?" And thus it was arranged, the plan calling for the
+co-operation of some twenty of her colleagues.
+
+My fellow engineers may sneer, if they like. I know the usual notion:
+that the "power of mind over matter" is all in the brain of the patient.
+That the efforts of the practitioner are merely inductive, and so on.
+
+But I think that the most sceptical will agree that I did quite right in
+seeking whatever support I could get before crossing swords with a man
+as keen as Avec.
+
+Nevertheless, before an opportunity arrived to make use of the
+intellectual machinery which my money had started into operation,
+something occurred which almost threw the whole thing out of gear.
+
+It was the evening after I had returned from Miss Clarke's office. Both
+Charlotte and I had a premonition, after supper, that things were going
+to happen. We all went into the parlour, sat down, and waited.
+
+Presently we started the gramophone. Jerome sat nearest the instrument,
+where he could without rising, lean over and change the records. And all
+three of us recall that the selection being played at the moment was "I
+Am Climbing Mountains," a sentimental little melody sung by a popular
+tenor. Certainly the piece was far from being melancholy, mysterious, or
+otherwise likely to attract the occult.
+
+I remember that we played it twice, and it was just as the singer
+reached the beginning of the final chorus that Charlotte, who sat
+nearest the door, made a quick move and shivered, as though with cold.
+
+From where I sat, near the dining-room door, I could see through into
+the hall. Charlotte's action made me think that the door might have
+become unlatched, allowing a draught to come through. Afterwards she
+said that she had felt something rather like a breeze pass her chair.
+
+In the middle of the room stood a long, massive table, of conventional
+library type. Overhead was a heavy, burnished copper fixture, from which
+a cluster of electric bulbs threw their brilliance upward, so that the
+room was evenly lighted with the diffused rays as reflected from the
+ceiling. Thus, there were no shadows to confuse the problem.
+
+The chorus of the song was almost through when I heard from the
+direction of the table a faint sound, as though someone had drawn
+fingers lightly across the polished oak. I listened; the sound was not
+repeated, at least not loud enough for me to catch it above the music.
+Next moment, however, the record came to an end; Jerome leaned forward
+to put on another, and Charlotte opened her mouth as though to suggest
+what the new selection might be. But she never said the words.
+
+It began with a scintillating iridescence, up on the ceiling, not eight
+feet from where I sat. As I looked the spot grew, and spread, and flared
+out. It was blue like the elusive blue of the gem; only, it was more
+like flame--the flame of electrical apparatus.
+
+Then, down from that blinding radiance there crept, rather than dropped
+a single thread of incandescence, vivid, with a tinge of the colour
+from which it had surged. Down it crept to the floor; it was like an
+irregular streak of lightning, hanging motionless between ceiling and
+floor, just for the fraction of a second. All in total silence.
+
+And then the radiance vanished, disappeared, snuffed out as one might
+snuff out a candle. And in its stead--
+
+There appeared a fourth person in the room.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE ROUSING OF A MIND
+
+
+It was a girl. Not the Nervina. No; this girl was quite another person.
+
+Even now I find it curiously hard to describe her. For me to say that
+she was the picture of innocence, of purity, and of youth, is still to
+leave unsaid the secret of her loveliness.
+
+For this stranger, coming out of the thin air into our midst, held me
+with a glorious fascination. From the first I felt no misgivings, such
+as Harry confesses he experienced when he fell under the Nervina's
+charm. I knew as I watched the stranger's wondering, puzzled features,
+that I had never before seen anyone so lovely, so attractive, and so
+utterly beyond suspicion.
+
+It was only later that I noted her amazingly delicate complexion, fair
+as her hair was golden; her deep blue eyes, round face, and the girlish
+supple figure; or her robe-like garments of very soft, white material.
+For she commenced almost instantly to talk.
+
+But we understood only with the greatest of difficulty. She spoke as
+might one who, after living in perfect solitude for a score of years, is
+suddenly called upon to use language. And I remembered that Rhamda Avec
+had told Jerome that he had only BEGUN the use of language.
+
+"Who are you?" was her first remark, in the sweetest voice conceivable.
+But there was both fear and anxiety in her manner. "How--did
+I--get--here?"
+
+"You came out of the Blind Spot!" I spoke, jerking out the words
+nervously and, as I saw, too rapidly. I repeated them more slowly. But
+she did not comprehend.
+
+"The--Blind--Spot," she pondered. "What--is that?"
+
+Next instant, before I could think to warn her, the room trembled with
+the terrific clang of the Blind Spot bell. Just one overwhelming peal;
+no more. At the same time there came a revival of the luminous spot in
+the ceiling. But, with the last tones of the bell, the spot faded to
+nothing.
+
+The girl was pitifully frightened. I sprang to my feet and steadied her
+with one hand--something that I had not dared to do as long as the Spot
+remained open. The touch of my fingers, as she swayed, had the effect of
+bringing her to herself. She listened intelligently to what I said.
+
+"The Blind Spot"--speaking with the utmost care--"is the name we have
+given to a certain mystery. It is always marked by the sound you have
+just heard; that bell always rings when the phenomenon is at an end."
+
+"And--the--phenomenon," uttering the word with difficulty, "what is
+that?"
+
+"You," I returned. "Up till now three human beings have disappeared into
+what we call the Blind Spot. You are the first to be seen coming out of
+it."
+
+"Hobart," interrupted Charlotte, coming to my side. "Let me."
+
+I stepped back, and Charlotte quietly passed an arm round the girl's
+waist. Together they stepped over to Charlotte's chair.
+
+I noted the odd way in which the newcomer walked, unsteadily,
+uncertainly, like a child taking its first steps. I glanced at Jerome,
+wondering if this tallied with what he recalled of the Rhamda; and he
+gave a short nod.
+
+"Don't be frightened," said Charlotte softly, "we are your friends. In
+a way we have been expecting you, and we shall see to it that no harm
+comes to you.
+
+"Which would you prefer--to ask questions, or to answer them?"
+
+"I"--the girl hesitated--"I--hardly--know. Perhaps--you had--better--ask
+something first."
+
+"Good. Do you remember where you came from? Can you recall the events
+just prior to your arrival here?"
+
+The girl looked helplessly from the one to the other of us. She seemed
+to be searching for some clue. Finally she shook her head in a hopeless,
+despairing fashion.
+
+"I can't remember," speaking with a shade less difficulty. "The last
+thing--I recall is--seeing--you three--staring--at me."
+
+This was a poser. To think, a person who, before our very eyes, had
+materialised out of the Blind Spot, was unable to tell us anything about
+it!
+
+Still this lack of memory might be only a temporary condition,
+brought on by the special conditions under which she had emerged; an
+after-effect, as it were, of the semi-electrical phenomena. And it
+turned out that I was right.
+
+"Then," suggested Charlotte, "suppose you ask us something."
+
+The girl's eyes stopped roving and rested definitely, steadily, upon my
+own. And she spoke; still a little hesitantly:
+
+"Who are you? What is your name?"
+
+"Name?" taken wholly by surprise. "Ah--it is Hobart Fenton.
+And"--automatically--"this is my sister Charlotte. The gentleman over
+there is Mr. Jerome."
+
+"I am glad to know you, Hobart," with perfect simplicity and apparent
+pleasure; "and you, Charlotte," passing an arm round my sister's neck;
+"and you--Mister." Evidently she thought the title of "mister" to be
+Jerome's first name.
+
+Then she went on to say, her eyes coming back to mine:
+
+"Why do you look at me that way, Hobart?"
+
+Just like that! I felt my cheeks go hot and cold by turns. For a moment
+I was helpless; then I made up my mind to be just as frank and candid as
+she.
+
+"Because you're so good to look at!" I blurted out. "I never appreciated
+my eyesight as I do right now!"
+
+"I am glad," she returned, simply and absolutely without a trace
+of confusion or resentment. "I know that I rather like to look at
+you--too."
+
+Another stunned silence. And this time I didn't notice any change in the
+temperature of my face; I was too busily engaged in searching the depths
+of those warm blue eyes.
+
+She didn't blush, or even drop her eyes. She smiled, however, a gentle,
+tremulous smile that showed some deep feeling behind her unwavering
+gaze.
+
+I recovered myself with a start, drew my chair up in front of her and
+took both her hands firmly in mine. Whereupon my resolution nearly
+deserted me. How warm and soft, and altogether adorable they were. I
+drew a long breath and began:
+
+"My dear--By the way, what is your name?"
+
+"I"--regretfully, after a moment's thought--"I don't know, Hobart."
+
+"Quite so," as though the fact was commonplace. "We will have to provide
+you with a name. Any suggestions?"
+
+Charlotte hesitated only a second. "Let's call her Ariadne; it was
+Harry's mother's name."
+
+"That's so; fine! Do you like the name--Ariadne?"
+
+"Yes," both pleased and relieved. At the same time she looked oddly
+puzzled, and I could see her lips moving silently as she repeated the
+name to herself.
+
+Not for an instant did I let go of those wonderful fingers. "What I
+want you to know, Ariadne, is that you have come into a world that is,
+perhaps, more or less like the one that you have just left. For all
+I know it is one and the same world, only, in some fashion not yet
+understood, you may have transported yourself to this place. Perhaps
+not.
+
+"Now, we call this a room, a part of the house. Outside is a street.
+That street is one of hundreds in a vast city, which consists of
+a multitude of such houses together with other and vastly larger
+structures. And these structures all rest upon a solid material which we
+call the ground or earth.
+
+"The fact that you understand our language indicates that either you
+have fallen heir to a body and a brain which are thoroughly in tune with
+ours, or else--and please understand that we know very little of this
+mystery--or else your own body has somehow become translated into a
+condition which answers the same purpose.
+
+"At any rate, you ought to comprehend what I mean by the term 'earth.'
+Do you?"
+
+"Oh, yes," brightly. "I seem to understand everything you say, Hobart."
+
+"Then there is a corresponding picture in your mind to each thought I
+have given you?"
+
+"I think so," not so positively.
+
+"Well," hoping that I could make it clear, "this earth is formed in a
+huge globe, part of which is covered by another material, which we term
+water. And the portions which are not so covered, and are capable of
+supporting the structures which constitute the city, we call by still
+another name. Can you supply that name?"
+
+"Continents," without hesitation.
+
+"Fine!" This was a starter anyhow. "We'll soon have your memory working!
+
+"However, what I really began to say is this; each of these
+continents--and they are several in number--is inhabited by people more
+or less like ourselves. There is a vast number, all told. Each is either
+male or female, like ourselves--you seem to take this for granted,
+however--and you will find them all exceedingly interesting.
+
+"Now, in all fairness," letting go her hands at last "you must
+understand that there are, among the people whom you have yet to see,
+great numbers who are far more--well, attractive, than I am.
+
+"And you must know," even taking my gaze away, "that not all persons are
+as friendly as we. You will find some who are antagonistic to you, and
+likely to take advantage of--well, your unsophisticated viewpoint. In
+short"--desperately--"you must learn right away not to accept people
+without question; you must form the habit of reserving judgment, of
+waiting until you have more facts, before reaching an opinion of others.
+
+"You must do this as a matter of self-protection, and in the interests
+of your greatest welfare."
+
+And I stopped.
+
+She seemed to be thinking over what I said. In the end she observed:
+"This seems reasonable. I feel sure that wherever I came from such
+advice would have fitted.
+
+"However"--smiling at me in a manner to which I can give no description
+other than affectionate--"I have no doubts about you, Hobart. I know you
+are absolutely all right."
+
+And before I could recover from the bliss into which her statement threw
+me, she turned to Charlotte with "You too, Charlotte; I know I can trust
+you."
+
+But when she looked at Jerome she commented: "I can trust you, Mister,
+too; almost as much, but not quite. If you didn't suspect me I could
+trust you completely."
+
+Jerome went white. He spoke for the first time since the girl's coming.
+
+"How--how did you know that I suspected you?"
+
+"I can't explain; I don't know myself." Then wistfully: "I wish you
+would stop suspecting me, Mister. I have nothing to conceal from you."
+
+"I know it!" Jerome burst out, excitedly, apologetically. "I know it
+now! You're all right, I'm satisfied of that from now on!"
+
+She sighed in pure pleasure. And she offered one hand to Jerome. He took
+it as though it were a humming-bird's egg, and turned almost purple. At
+the same time the honest, fervid manliness which backed the detective's
+professional nature shone through for the first time in my knowledge of
+him. From that moment his devotion to the girl was as absolute as that
+of the fondest father who ever lived.
+
+Well, no need to detail all that was said during the next hour. Bit by
+bit we added to the girl's knowledge of the world into which she had
+emerged, and bit by bit there unfolded in her mind a corresponding image
+of the world from which she had come. And when, for an experiment, we
+took her out on the front porch and showed her the stars, we were fairly
+amazed at the thoughts they aroused.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, in sheer rapture. "I know what those are!" By now she
+was speaking fairly well. "They are stars!" Then: "They don't look the
+same. They're not outlined in the same way as I know. But they can't be
+anything else!"
+
+NOT OUTLINED THE SAME. I took this to be a very significant fact. What
+did it mean?
+
+"Look"--showing her the constellation Leo, on the ecliptic, and
+therefore visible to both the northern and southern hemispheres--"do you
+recognise that?"
+
+"Yes," decisively. "That is, the arrangement; but not the appearance of
+the separate stars."
+
+And we found this to be true of the entire sky. Nothing was entirely
+familiar to her; yet, she assured us, the stars could be nothing else.
+Her previous knowledge told her this without explaining why, and without
+a hint as to the reason for the dissimilarity.
+
+"Is it possible," said I, speaking half to myself, "that she has come
+from another planet?"
+
+For we know that the sky, as seen from any of the eight planets in this
+solar system, would present practically the same appearance; but if
+viewed from a planet belonging to any other star-sun, the constellations
+would be more or less altered in their arrangement, because of the
+vast distance involved. As for the difference in the appearance of the
+individual stars, that might be accounted for by a dissimilarity in the
+chemical make-up of the atmosphere.
+
+"Ariadne, it may be you've come from another world!"
+
+"No," seemingly quite conscious that she was contradicting me. For that
+matter there wasn't anything offensive about her kind of frankness. "No,
+Hobart. I feel too much at home to have come from any other world than
+this one."
+
+Temporarily I was floored. How could she, so ignorant of other matters,
+feel so sure of this? There was no explaining it.
+
+We went back into the house. As it happened, my eye struck first the
+gramophone. And it seemed a good idea to test her knowledge with this.
+
+"Is this apparatus familiar to you?"
+
+"No. What is it for?"
+
+"Do you understand what is meant by the term 'music'?"
+
+"Yes," with instant pleasure. "This is music." She proceeded, without
+the slightest self-consciousness, to sing in a sweet clear soprano, and
+treated us to the chorus of "I Am Climbing Mountains!"
+
+"Good heavens!" gasped Charlotte. "What can it mean?"
+
+For a moment the explanation evaded me. Then I reasoned: "She must
+have a sub-conscious memory of what was being played just before she
+materialised."
+
+And to prove this I picked out an instrumental piece which we had not
+played all the evening. It was the finale of the overture to "Faust"; a
+selection, by the way, which was a great favourite of Harry's and is one
+of mine. Ariadne listened in silence to the end.
+
+"I seem to have heard something like it before," she decided slowly.
+"The melody, not the--the instrumentation. But it reminds me of
+something that I like very much." Whereupon she began to sing for us.
+But this time her voice was stronger and more dramatic; and as for the
+composition--all I can say is it had a wild, fierce ring to it, like
+"Men of Harlech"; only the notes did not correspond to the chromatic
+scale. SHE SANG IN AN ENTIRELY NEW MUSICAL SYSTEM.
+
+"By George!" when she had done. "Now we HAVE got something! For the
+first time, we've heard some genuine, unadulterated Blind Spot stuff!"
+
+"You mean," from Charlotte, excitedly, "that she has finally recovered
+her memory?"
+
+It was the girl herself who answered. She shot to her feet, and her face
+became transfigured with a wonderful joy. At the same time she blinked
+hurriedly, as though to shut off a sight that staggered her.
+
+"Oh, I remember!"--she almost sobbed in her delight--"it is all plain
+to me, now! I know who I am!"
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+THE RHAMDA AGAIN
+
+
+I could have yelled for joy. We were about to learn something of the
+Blind Spot--something that might help us to save Harry, and Chick, and
+the professor!
+
+Ariadne seemed to know that a great deal depended upon what she was
+about to tell us. She deliberately sat down, and rested her chin upon
+her hand, as though determining upon the best way of telling something
+very difficult to express.
+
+As for Charlotte, Jerry, and myself, we managed somehow to restrain our
+curiosity enough to keep silence. But we could not help glancing more or
+less wonderingly at our visitor. Presently I realised this, and got up
+and walked quietly about, as though intent upon a problem of my own.
+
+Which was true enough. I had come to a very startling conclusion--I,
+Hobart Fenton, had fallen in love!
+
+What was more, this affection of the heart had come to me, a very strong
+man, just as an affection of the lungs is said to strike such men--all
+of a sudden and hard. One moment I had been a sturdy, independent soul,
+intent upon scientific investigation, the only symptoms of sentimental
+potentialities being my perfectly normal love for my sister and for my
+old friend. Then, before my very eyes, I had been smitten thus!
+
+And the worst part of it was, I found myself ENJOYING the sensation. It
+made not the slightest difference to me that I had fallen in love with
+a girl who was only a step removed from a wraith. Mysteriously she had
+come to me; as mysteriously she might depart. I had yet to know from
+what sort of country she had come!
+
+But that made no difference. She was HERE, in the same house with me;
+I had held her hands; and I knew her to be very, very real indeed just
+then. And when I considered the possibility of her disappearing just as
+inexplicably as she had come--well, my face went cold, I admit. But at
+the same time I felt sure of this much--I should never love any other
+woman.
+
+The thought left me sober. I paused in my pacing and looked at her. As
+though in answer to my gaze she glanced up and smiled so affectionately
+that it was all I could do to keep from leaping forward and taking her
+right into my arms.
+
+I turned hastily, and to cover my confusion I began to hum a strain from
+the part of "Faust" to which I have referred. I hummed it through, and
+was beginning again, when I was startled to hear this from the girl:
+"Oh, then you are Hobart!"
+
+I wheeled, to see her face filled with a wonderful light.
+
+"Hobart," she repeated, as one might repeat the name of a very dear one.
+"That--that music you were humming! Why, I heard Harry Wendel humming
+that yesterday!"
+
+I suppose we looked very stupid, the three of us, so dumbfounded that we
+could do nothing but gape incredulously at that extraordinary creature
+and her equally extraordinary utterance. She immediately did her best to
+atone for her sensation.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can make it clear," she said, smiling dubiously,
+"but if you will use your imaginations and try to fill in the gaps in
+what I say you may get a fair idea of the place I have come from, and
+where Harry is."
+
+We leaned forward, intensely alert. I shall never forget the pitiful
+eagerness in poor Charlotte's face. It meant more to her, perhaps, than
+to anyone else.
+
+At the precise instant I heard a sound, off in the breakfast room. It
+seemed to be a subdued knocking, or rather a pounding at the door.
+
+Frowning at the interruption, I stepped through the dining-room into
+the breakfast room, where the sounds came from. And I was not a little
+puzzled to note that the door to the basement was receiving the blows.
+
+Now I had been the last to visit the basement and had locked the
+door--from force of habit, I suppose--leaving the key in the lock.
+It was still there. And there is but one way to enter that basement:
+through this one door, and no other.
+
+"Who is it?" I called out peremptorily. No answer; only a repetition of
+the pounds.
+
+"What do you want?"--louder.
+
+"Open this door, quick!" cane a muffled reply.
+
+The voice was unrecognisable. I stood and thought quickly; then shouted:
+
+"Wait a minute, until I get a key!"
+
+I motioned to Charlotte. She tip-toed to my side. I whispered something
+in her ear; and she slipped off into the kitchen, there to phone Miss
+Clarke and warn her to notify her colleagues at once. And so, as I
+unlocked the door, I was fortified by the knowledge that I would be
+assisted by the combined mind-force of a score of highly developed
+intellects.
+
+I was little surprised, a second later, to see that the intruder was
+Rhamda Avec. What reason to expect anyone else?
+
+"How did you get down there?" I demanded. "Don't you realise that you
+are liable to arrest for trespass?"
+
+I said it merely to start conversation but it served only to bring a
+slight smile to the face of this professed friend of ours, for whom we
+felt nothing but distrust and fear.
+
+"Let us not waste time in trivialities, Fenton," he rejoined gently. He
+brushed a fleck of cobweb from his coat. "By this time you ought to know
+that you cannot deal with me in any ordinary fashion."
+
+I made no comment as, without asking my leave or awaiting an invitation,
+he stepped through into the dining-room and thence into the parlour. I
+followed, half tempted to strike him down from behind, but restrained
+more by the fact that I must spare him than from any compunctions.
+Seemingly he knew this as well as I, he was serenely at ease.
+
+And thus he stood before Jerome and Ariadne. The detective made a single
+exclamation, and furtively shifted his coat sleeves. He was getting that
+infernal breast gun into action. As for Ariadne, she stared at the new
+arrival as though astonished at first.
+
+When Charlotte returned, a moment later, she showed only mild surprise.
+She quietly took her chair and as quietly moved her hand so that the gem
+shone in full view of our visitor.
+
+But he gave her and the stone only a single glance, and then rested his
+eyes upon our new friend. To my anxiety, Ariadne was gazing fixedly at
+him now, her expression combining both agitation and a vague fear.
+
+It could not have been due entirely to his unusual appearance; for
+there was no denying that this grey-haired yet young-faced man with the
+distinguished, courteous bearing, looked even younger that night than
+ever before. No; the girl's concern was deeper, more acute. I felt an
+unaccountable alarm.
+
+From Ariadne to me the Rhamda glanced, then back again; and a quick
+satisfied smile came to his mouth. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.
+And, keeping his gaze fixed upon her eyes, he remarked carelessly:
+
+"Which of these chairs shall I sit in, Fenton?"
+
+"This one," I replied instantly, pointing to the one I had just quit.
+
+Smiling, he selected a chair a few feet away.
+
+Whereupon I congratulated myself. The man feared me, then; yet he ranked
+my mentality no higher than that! In other words, remarkably clever
+though he might be, and as yet unthwarted, he could by no means be
+called omnipotent.
+
+"For your benefit, Mr. Jerome, let me say that I phoned Miss Fenton and
+her brother a few days ago, and urged them to give up their notion of
+occupying this house or of attempting to solve the mystery that you
+are already acquainted with. And I prophesied, Mr. Jerome, that their
+refusal to accept my advice would be followed by events that would
+justify me.
+
+"They refused, as you know; and I am here tonight to make a final plea,
+so that they may escape the consequences of their wilfulness."
+
+"You're a crook! And the more I see of you, Avec, the more easily I can
+understand why they turned you down!"
+
+"So you too, are prejudiced against me. I cannot understand this. My
+motives are quite above question, I assure you."
+
+"Really!" I observed sarcastically. I stole a glance at Ariadne; her
+eyes were still riveted, in a rapt yet half-fearful abstraction, upon
+the face of the Rhamda. It was time I took her attention away.
+
+I called her name. She did not move her head, or reply. I said it
+louder: "Ariadne!"
+
+"What is it, Hobart?"--very softly.
+
+"Ariadne, this gentleman possesses a great deal of knowledge of the
+locality from which you came. We are interested in him, because we feel
+sure that, if he chose to, he could tell us something about our friends
+who--about Harry Wendel." Why not lay the cards plainly on the table?
+The Rhamda must be aware of it all, anyhow. "And as this man has said,
+he has tried to prevent us from solving the mystery. It occurs to me,
+Ariadne, that you might recognise this man. But apparently--"
+
+She shook her head just perceptibly. I proceeded:
+
+"He is pleased to call his warning a prophecy; but we feel that a threat
+is a threat. What he really wants is that ring."
+
+Ariadne had already, earlier in the hour, given the gem several curious
+glances. Now she stirred and sighed, and was about to turn her eyes
+from the Rhamda to the ring when he spoke again; this time in a voice as
+sharp as a steel blade:
+
+"I do not enjoy being misunderstood, much less being misrepresented, Mr.
+Fenton. At the same time, since you have seen fit to brand me in such
+uncomplimentary terms, suppose I state what I have to say very bluntly,
+so that there may be no mistake about it. If you do not either quit this
+house, or give up the ring--NOW--you will surely regret it the rest of
+your lives!"
+
+From the corner of my eye I saw Jerome moving slowly in his chair, so
+that he could face directly towards the Rhamda. His hands were ready for
+the swift, upward jerk which, I knew, would stifle our caller.
+
+As for my sister, she merely turned the ring so that the gem no longer
+faced the Rhamda; and with the other hand she reached out and grasped
+Ariadne's firmly.
+
+Avec sat with his two hands clasping the arms of his chair. His fingers
+drummed nervously but lightly on the wood. And then, suddenly, they
+stopped their motion.
+
+"Your answer, Fenton," in his usual gentle voice. "I can give you no
+more time," I did not need to consult Charlotte or Jerome. I knew what
+they would have said.
+
+"You are welcome to my answer. It is--no!"
+
+As I spoke the last word my gaze was fixed on the Rhamda's eyes. He, on
+the other hand, was looking towards Ariadne. And at the very instant an
+expression, as of alarm and sorrow, swept into the man's face.
+
+My glance jumped to Ariadne. Her eyes were closed, her face suffused;
+she seemed to be suffocating. She gave a queer little sound, half gasp
+and half cry.
+
+Simultaneously Jerome's hands shot into the air. The room shivered
+with the stunning report of his breast gun. And every pellet struck the
+Rhamda and burst.
+
+A look of intense astonishment came into his face. He gave Jerome a
+fleeting glance, almost of admiration; then his nostrils contracted with
+pain as the gas attacked his lungs.
+
+Another second, and each of us were reeling with the fumes. Jerome
+started toward the window, to raise it, then sank back into his chair.
+And when he turned round--
+
+He and I and Charlotte saw an extraordinary thing. Instead of succumbing
+to the gas, Rhamda Avec somehow recovered himself. And while the rest
+of us remained still too numbed to move or speak, he found power to do
+both.
+
+"I warned you plainly, Fenton," as though nothing in particular had
+happened. "And now see what you have brought upon the poor child!"
+
+I could only roll my head stupidly, to stare at Ariadne's now senseless
+form.
+
+"As usual, Fenton, you will blame me for it. I cannot help that. But it
+may still be possible for you to repent of your folly and escape your
+fate. You are playing with terrible forces. If you do repent, just
+follow these instructions"--laying a card on the table--"and I will see
+what I can do for you. I wish you all good night."
+
+And with that, pausing only to make a courtly bow to Charlotte, Rhamda
+Avec turned and walked deliberately, dignifiedly from the room, while
+the two men and a woman stared helplessly after him and allowed him to
+go in peace.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+THE LIVING DEATH
+
+
+As soon as the fresh air had revived us somewhat, we first of all
+examined Ariadne. She still lay unconscious, very pale, and alarmingly
+limp. I picked her up and carried her into the next room, where
+there was a sofa, while Jerome went for water and Charlotte brought
+smelling-salts.
+
+Neither of these had any effect. Ariadne seemed to be scarcely
+breathing; her heart beat only faintly, and there was no response to
+such other methods as friction, slapping, or pinching of fingernails.
+
+"We had better call a doctor," decided Charlotte promptly, and went to
+the phone.
+
+I picked up the card which the Rhamda had left. It contained simply his
+name, together with one other word--the name of a morning newspaper.
+Evidently he meant for us to insert an advertisement as soon as we were
+ready to capitulate.
+
+"Not yet!" the three of us decided, after talking it over. And we waited
+as patiently as we could during the fifteen minutes that elapsed before
+the telephoning got results.
+
+It brought Dr. Hansen, who, it may be remembered, was closely identified
+with the Chick Watson disappearance. He made a rapid but very careful
+examination.
+
+"It has all the appearance of a mild electric shock. What caused it,
+Fenton?"
+
+I told him. His eyes narrowed when I mentioned Avec, then widened in
+astonishment and incredulity as I related the man's inexplicable effect
+upon the girl, and his strange immunity to the poison gas. But the
+doctor asked nothing further about our situation, proceeding at once to
+apply several restoratives. All were without result. As a final resort,
+he even rigged up an electrical connection, making use of some coils
+which I had upstairs, and endeavoured to arouse the girl in that
+fashion. Still without result.
+
+"Good Lord, Hansen!" I finally burst out, when he stood back, apparently
+baffled. "She's simply GOT to be revived! We can't allow her to succumb
+to that scoundrel's power, whatever it is!"
+
+"Why not a blood transfusion?" I asked eagerly, as an idea came to me.
+"I'm in perfect condition. What about it? Go to it, doc!"
+
+He slowly shook his head. And beyond a single searching glance into
+my eyes, wherein he must have read something more than I had said, he
+regretfully replied:
+
+"This is a case for a specialist, Fenton. Everything considered, I
+should say that she is suffering from a purely mental condition; but
+whether it had a physical or a psychic origin, I can't say."
+
+In short, he did not feel safe about going ahead with any really heroic
+measures until a brain specialist was called in.
+
+I had a good deal of confidence in Hansen. And what he said sounded
+reasonable. So we agreed to his calling in a Dr. Higgins--the same man,
+in fact, who was too late in reaching the house to save Chick on that
+memorable night a year before.
+
+His examination was swift and convincingly competent. He went over the
+same ground that Hansen had covered, took the blood pressure and other
+instrumental data, and asked us several questions regarding Ariadne's
+mentality as we knew it. Scarcely stopping to think it over, Higgins
+decided:
+
+"The young woman is suffering from a temporary dissociation of brain
+centres. Her cerebrum does not co-act with her cerebellum. In other
+words, her conscious mind, for lack of means to express itself, is for
+the time being dormant as in sleep.
+
+"But it is not like ordinary sleep. Such is induced by fatigue of the
+nerve channels. This young woman's condition is produced by shock; and
+since there was no physical violence, we must conclude that the shock
+was psychic.
+
+"In that case, the condition will last until one of two things occurs;
+either she must be similarly shocked back into sensibility--and I can't
+see how this can happen, Fenton, unless you can secure the co-operation
+of the man to whom you attribute the matter--or she must lie that way
+indefinitely."
+
+"Indefinitely!" I exclaimed, sensing something ominous. "You mean--"
+
+"That there is no known method of reviving a patient in such a
+condition. It might be called psychic catalepsy. To speak plainly,
+Fenton, unless this man revives her, she will remain unconscious until
+her death."
+
+I shuddered. What horrible thing had come into our lives to afflict us
+with so dreadful a prospect?
+
+"Is--is there no hope, Dr. Higgins?"
+
+"Very little"--gently but decisively. "All I can assure you is that she
+will not die immediately. From the general state of her health, she will
+live at least seventy-two hours. After that--you must be prepared for
+the worst at any moment."
+
+I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an awful
+situation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda--
+
+I hunted up Jerome. I said:
+
+"Jerry, the thing is plainly up to you and me. Higgins gives us three
+days. Day after tomorrow morning, if we haven't got results by that
+time, we've got to give in and put that ad in the paper. But I
+don't mean to give in, Jerry! Not until I've exhausted every other
+possibility!"
+
+"What're you going to do?" he asked thoughtfully.
+
+"Work on that ring. I was a fool not to get busy sooner. As for the
+rest, that's up to you! You've got to get yourself on the Rhamda's trail
+as soon as you can, and camp there! The first chance you get, ransack
+his room and belongings, and bring me every bit of data you find.
+Between him and the ring, the truth ought to come out."
+
+"All right. But don't forget that--" pointing to the unexplained spot
+on the wood of the doorway. "You've got a mighty important clue there,
+waiting for you to analyse it."
+
+And he went and got his hat, and left the house. His final remark was
+that we wouldn't see him back until he had something to report about our
+man.
+
+Five o'clock the next morning found my sister and me out of our beds and
+desperately busy. She spent a good deal of time, of course in caring for
+Ariadne. The poor girl showed no improvement at all; and we got scant
+encouragement from the fact that she looked no worse.
+
+Not a sound escaped her lips; her eyes remained closed; she gave no sign
+of life, save her barely perceptible breathing. It made me sick at heart
+just to look at her; so near, and yet so fearfully far away.
+
+But when Charlotte could spare any time she gave me considerable help in
+what I was trying to do. One great service she was rendering has already
+been made clear: she wore the ring constantly, thus relieving me of
+the anxiety of caring for it. I was very cautious not to have it in my
+possession for more than a few minutes at a time.
+
+My first move was to set down, in orderly fashion, the list of the gem's
+attributes. I grouped together the fluctuating nature of its pale blue
+colour, its power of reproducing those who had gone into the Blind Spot,
+its combination of perfect solidity with extreme lightness; its quality
+of coldness to the touch of a male, and warmth to that of a female; and
+finally its ability to induct--I think this is the right term--to induct
+sounds out of the unknown. This last quality might be called spasmodic
+or accidental, whereas the others were permanent and constant.
+
+Now, to this list I presently was able to add that the gem possessed no
+radioactive properties that I could detect with the usual means. It was
+only when I began dabbling in chemistry that I learned things.
+
+By placing the gem inside a glass bell, and exhausting as much air as
+possible from around it, the way was cleared for introducing other forms
+of gases. Whereupon I discovered this:
+
+The stone will absorb any given quantity of hydrogen gas.
+
+In this respect it behaves analogously to that curious place on
+the door-frame. Only, it absorbs gas, no liquid; and not any gas,
+either--none but hydrogen.
+
+Now, obviously this gem cannot truly absorb so much material, in the
+sense of retaining it as well. The simple test of weighing it afterwards
+proves this; for its weight remains the same in any circumstances.
+
+Moreover, unlike the liquids which I poured into the wood and saw
+afterwards in the basement, the gas does not escape back into the air. I
+kept it under the Dell long enough to be sure of that. No; that hydrogen
+is, manifestly, translated into the Blind Spot.
+
+Learning nothing further about the gem at that time, I proceeded to
+investigate the trim of the door. I began by trying to find out the
+precise thickness of that liquid-absorbing layer.
+
+To do this I scraped off the "skin" of the air-darkened wood. This layer
+was .02 of an inch thick. And--that was the total amount of the active
+material!
+
+I put these scrapings through a long list of experiments. They told
+me nothing valuable. I learned only one detail worth mentioning; if a
+fragment of the scrapings be brought near to the Holcomb gem--say, to
+within two inches--the scrapings will burst into flame. It is merely
+a bright, pinkish flare, like that made by smokeless rifle-powder. No
+ashes remain. After that we took care not to bring the ring near the
+remaining material on the board.
+
+All this occurred on the first day after Ariadne was stricken. Jerome
+phoned to say that he had engaged the services of a dozen private
+detectives, and expected to get wind of the Rhamda any hour. Both Dr.
+Hansen and Dr. Higgins called twice, without being able to detect any
+change for the better or otherwise in their patient.
+
+That evening Charlotte and I concluded that we could not hold out any
+longer. We must give in to the Rhamda. I phoned for a messenger, and
+sent an advertisement to the newspaper which Avec had indicated.
+
+The thing was done. We had capitulated.
+
+The next development would be another and triumphant call from the
+Rhamda, and this time we would have to give up the gem to him if we were
+to save Ariadne.
+
+The game was up.
+
+But instead of taking the matter philosophically, I worried about it all
+night. I told myself again and again that I was foolish to think about
+something that couldn't be helped. Why not forget it, and go to sleep?
+
+But somehow I couldn't. I lay wide awake till long past midnight,
+finding myself growing more and more nervous. At last, such was the
+tension of it all, I got up and dressed. It was then about one-thirty,
+and I stepped out on the street for a walk.
+
+Half an hour later I returned, my lungs full of fresh air, hoping that I
+could now sleep. It was only a hope. Never have I felt wider awake than
+I did then.
+
+Once more--about three--I took another stroll outside. I seemed
+absolutely tireless.
+
+Each time that I had turned back home I seemed to feel stronger than
+ever, more wakeful. Finally I dropped the idea altogether, went to the
+house, and left a note for Charlotte, then walked down to the waterfront
+and watched some ships taking advantage of the tide. Anything to pass
+the time.
+
+And thus it happened, that, about eight o'clock--breakfast time at 288
+Chatterton Place--I returned to the house, and sat down at the table
+with Charlotte. First, however, I opened the morning paper to read our
+little ad.
+
+It was not there. It had not been printed.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
+
+
+I dropped the paper in dismay. Charlotte looked up, startled, gave me a
+single look, and turned pale,
+
+"What--what's the matter?" she stammered fearfully.
+
+I showed her. Then I ran to the phone. In a few seconds I was talking to
+the very man who had taken the note from the messenger the day before.
+
+"Yes, I handed it in along with the rest," he replied to my excited
+query. Then--"Wait a minute," said he; and a moment later added: "Say,
+Mr. Fenton, I've made a mistake! Here's the darned ad on the counter; it
+must have slipped under the blotter."
+
+I went back and told Charlotte. We stared at one another blankly. Why
+in the name of all that was baffling had our ad "slipped" under that
+blotter? And what were we to do?
+
+This was the second day!
+
+Well, we did what we could. We arranged for the insertion of the same
+notice in each of the three afternoon papers. There would still be time
+for the Rhamda to act, if he saw it.
+
+The hours dragged by. Never did time pass more slowly; and yet, I
+begrudged every one. So much for being absolutely helpless.
+
+About ten o'clock the next morning--that is to say, today; I am writing
+this the same evening--the front door bell rang. Charlotte answered and
+in a moment came back with a card. It read:
+
+SIR HENRY HODGES
+
+I nearly upset the table in my excitement. I ran into the hall. Who
+wouldn't? Sir Henry Hodges! The English scientist about whom the whole
+world was talking! The most gifted investigator of the day; the most
+widely informed; of all men on the face of the globe, the best equipped,
+mentally, to explore the unknown! Without the slightest formality I
+grabbed his hand and shook it until he smiled at my enthusiasm.
+
+"My dear Sir Henry," I told him, "I'm immensely glad to see you! The
+truth is, I've been hoping you'd be interested in our case; but I didn't
+have the nerve to bother you with it!"
+
+"And I," he admitted in his quiet way, "have been longing to take a hand
+in it, ever since I first heard of Professor Holcomb's disappearance.
+Didn't like to offer myself; understood that the matter had been hushed
+up and--"
+
+"For the very simple reason," I explained, "that there was nothing to be
+gained by publicity. If we had given the public the facts, we would have
+been swamped with volunteers to help us. I didn't know whom to confide
+in, Sir Henry; couldn't make up my mind. I only knew that one such man
+as yourself was just what I needed."
+
+He overlooked the compliment, and pulled out the newspaper from his
+pocket. "Bought this a few minutes ago. Saw your ad, and jumped to the
+conclusion that matters had reached an acute stage. Let me have the
+whole story, my boy, as briefly as you can."
+
+He already knew the published details. Also, he seemed to be
+acquainted--in some manner which puzzled me--with much that had not been
+printed. I sketched the affair as quickly as I could, making it clear
+that we were face to face with a crisis. When I wound up by saying that
+it was Dr. Higgins who gave Ariadne three days, ending about midnight,
+in which she might recover if we could secure Rhamda Avec, he said
+kindly:
+
+"I'm afraid you made a mistake, my boy, in not seeking some help. The
+game has reached a point where you cannot have too many brains on your
+side. Time is short for reinforcements!"
+
+He heartily approved of my course in enlisting the aid of Miss Clarke
+and her colleagues. "That is the sort of thing you need! People with
+mentality; plenty of intellectual force!" And he went on to make
+suggestions.
+
+As a result, within an hour and a half our house was sheltering five
+more persons.
+
+Miss Clarke has already been introduced. She was easily one of the ten
+most advanced practitioners in her line. And she had the advantage of
+a curiosity that was interested in everything odd, even though she
+labelled it "non-existent." She said it helped her faith in the real
+truths to be conversant with the unreal.
+
+Dr. Malloy was from the university, an out-and-out materialist, a
+psychologist who made life interesting for those who agreed with William
+James. His investigations of abnormal psychology are world-acknowledged.
+
+Mme. Le Fabre, we afterwards learned, had come from Versailles
+especially to investigate the matter that was bothering us. She
+possessed no mediumistic properties of her own but was a staunch
+proponent of spiritualism, believing firmly in immortality and the
+omnipotence of "translated" souls.
+
+Professor Herold is most widely known as the inventor of certain
+apparatus connected with wireless. But he is also considered the West's
+most advanced student of electrical and radio-active subjects.
+
+I was enormously glad to have this man's expert, high-tension knowledge
+right on tap.
+
+The remaining member of the quintet which Sir Henry advised me to summon
+requires a little explanation. Also, I am obliged to give him a name
+not his own; for it is not often that brigadier-generals of the United
+States army can openly lend their names to anything so far removed
+apparently from militarism as the searching of the occult.
+
+Yet we knew that this man possessed a power that few scientists have
+developed; the power of co-ordination, of handling and balancing great
+facts and forces, and of deciding promptly how best to meet any given
+situation. Not that we looked for anything militaristic out of the Blind
+Spot; far from it. We merely knew not what to expect, which was exactly
+why we wanted to have him with us; his type of mind is, perhaps, the
+most solidly comforting sort that any mystery-bound person can have at
+his side.
+
+By the time these five had gathered, Jerome had neither returned
+nor telephoned. There was not the slightest trace of Rhamda Avec; no
+guessing as to whether he had seen the ad. It was then one o'clock in
+the afternoon. Only six hours ago! It doesn't seem possible.
+
+So there were eight of us--three women and five men--who went upstairs
+and quietly inspected the all but lifeless form of Ariadne and
+afterwards gathered in the library below.
+
+All were thoroughly familiar with the situation. Miss Clarke calmly
+commented to the effect that the entire Blind Spot affair was due wholly
+and simply to the cumulative effects of so many, many subjects; the
+result, in other words, of error.
+
+Dr. Malloy was equally outspoken in his announcement that he proposed
+to deal with the matter from the standpoint of psychic aberration. He
+mentioned dissociated personalities, group hypnosis, and so on. But he
+declared that he was open to conviction, and anxious to get any and all
+facts.
+
+Sir Henry had a good deal of difficulty in getting Mme. Le Fabre to
+commit herself. Probably she felt that, since Sir Henry had gone on
+record as being doubtful of the spiritistic explanation of psychic
+phenomena, she might get into a controversy with him. But in the end
+she stated that she expected to find our little mystery simply a novel
+variation on what was so familiar to her.
+
+As might be supposed, General Hume had no opinion. He merely expressed
+himself as being prepared to accept any sound theory, or portions of
+such theories as might be advanced, and arrive at a workable conclusion
+therefrom. Which was exactly what we wanted of him.
+
+Of them all, Professor Herold showed the most enthusiasm. Perhaps this
+was because, despite his attainments, he is still young. At any rate, he
+made it clear that he was fully prepared to learn something entirely new
+in science. And he was almost eager to adjust his previous notions and
+facts to the new discoveries.
+
+When all these various viewpoints had been cleared up, and we felt that
+we understood each other, it was inevitable that we should look to Sir
+Henry to state his position. This one man combined a large amount of the
+various, specialised abilities for which the others were noted, and they
+all knew and respected him accordingly. Had he stood and theorised half
+the afternoon, they would willingly have sat and listened. But instead
+he glanced at his watch, and observed:
+
+"To me, the most important development of all was hearing the sound of a
+dog's bark coming from the ring. As I recall the details, the sound was
+emitted just after the gem had been submitted to considerable handling,
+from Miss Fenton's fingers to her brother's and back again. In other
+words, it was subjected to a mixture of opposing animal magnetisms.
+Suppose we experiment further with it now."
+
+Charlotte slipped the gem from her finger and passed it around. Each of
+us held it for a second or two; after which Charlotte clasped the ring
+tightly in her palm, while we all joined hands.
+
+It was, as I have said, broad daylight; the hour, shortly after one.
+Scarcely had our hands completed the circuit than something happened.
+
+From out of Charlotte's closed hand there issued an entirely new sound.
+At first it was so faint and fragmentary that only two of us heard it.
+Then it became stronger and more continuous, and presently we were all
+gazing at each other in wonderment.
+
+For the sound was that of footsteps.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+DIRECT FROM PARADISE
+
+
+The sound was not like that of the walking of the human. Nor was it such
+as an animal would make. It was neither a thud nor a pattering, but more
+like a scratching shuffle, such as reminded me of nothing that I had
+ever heard before.
+
+Next moment, however, there came another sort of sound, plainly audible
+above the footsteps. This was a thin, musical chuckle which ended in a
+deep, but faint, organ-like throb. It happened only once.
+
+Immediately it was followed by a steady clicking, such as might be made
+by gently striking a stick against the pavement; only sharper. This
+lasted a minute, during which the other sounds ceased.
+
+Once more the footsteps. They were not very loud, but in the stillness
+of that room they all but resounded.
+
+Presently Charlotte could stand it no longer. She placed the ring on the
+table, where it continued to emit those unplaceable sounds.
+
+"Well! Do--do you people," stammered Dr. Malloy, "do you people all hear
+THAT?"
+
+Miss Clarke's face was rather pale. But her mouth was firm. "It is
+nothing," said she, with theosophical positiveness. "You must not
+believe it--it is not the truth of--"
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted Sir Henry, "but this isn't something to argue
+about! It is a reality; and the sooner we all admit it, the better.
+There is a living creature of some kind making that sound!"
+
+"It is the spirit of some two-footed creature," asserted Mme. Le Fabre,
+plainly at her ease. She was on familiar ground now. "If only we had a
+medium!"
+
+Abruptly the sounds left the vicinity of the ring. At first we could
+not locate their new position. Then Herold declared that they came
+from under the table; and presently we were all gathered on the floor,
+listening to those odd little sounds, while the ring remained thirty
+inches above, on the top of the table!
+
+It may be that the thing, whatever it was, did not care for such a
+crowd. For shortly the shuffling ceased. And for a while we stared and
+listened, scarcely breathing, trying to locate the new position.
+
+Finally we went back to our chairs. We had heard nothing further.
+Nevertheless, we continued to keep silence, with our ears alert for
+anything more.
+
+"Hush!" whispered Charlotte all of a sudden. "Did you hear that?" And
+she looked up toward the ceiling.
+
+In a moment I caught the sound. It was exceedingly faint, like the
+distant thrumming of a zither. Only it was a single note, which did
+not rise and fall, although there seemed a continual variation in its
+volume.
+
+Unexpectedly the other sounds came again, down under the table. This
+time we remained in our seats and simply listened. And presently Sir
+Henry, referring to the ring, made this suggestion:
+
+"Suppose we seal it up, and see whether it inducts the sound then as
+well as when exposed."
+
+This appealed to Herold very strongly; the others were agreeable; so I
+ran upstairs to my room and secured a small screw-top metal canister,
+which I knew to be airtight. It was necessary to remove the stone from
+the ring, in order to get it into the opening in the can. Presently this
+was done; and while our invisible visitor continued his scratchy little
+walking as before, I screwed the top of the can down as tightly as I
+could.
+
+Instantly the footsteps halted.
+
+I unscrewed the top a trifle. As instantly the stepping was resumed.
+
+"Ah!" cried Herold. "It's a question of radioactivity, then! Remember Le
+Bon's experiments, Sir Henry?"
+
+But Miss Clarke was sorely mystified by this simple matter, and herself
+repeated the experiments. Equally puzzled was Mme. Le Fabre. According
+to her theory, a spirit wouldn't mind a little thing like a metal box.
+Of them all, Dr. Malloy was the least disturbed; so decidedly so that
+General Hume eyed him quizzically.
+
+"Fine bunch of hallucinations, doctor."
+
+"Almost commonplace," retorted Malloy.
+
+Presently I mentioned that the Rhamda had come from the basement on the
+night that Ariadne had materialised; and I showed that the only possible
+route into the cellar was through the locked door in the breakfast
+room, since the windows were all too small, and there was no other door.
+Query: How had the Rhamda got there? Immediately they all became alert.
+As Herold said:
+
+"One thing or the other is true; either there is something downstairs
+which has escaped you, Fenton, or else Avec is able to materialise in
+any place he chooses. Let's look!"
+
+We all went down except Charlotte, who went upstairs to stay with
+Ariadne. By turns, each of us held the ring. And as we unlocked the
+basement door we noted that the invisible, walking creature had reached
+there before us.
+
+Down the steps went those unseen little feet, jumping from one step to
+the next just ahead of us all the way. When within three or four steps
+of the bottom, the creature made one leap do for them all.
+
+I had previously run an extension cord down into the basement, and both
+compartments could now be lighted by powerful electric lamps. We gave
+the place a quick examination.
+
+"What's all this newly turned earth mean?" inquired Sir Henry, pointing
+to the result of Jerome's efforts a few months before. And I explained
+how he and Harry, on the chance the basement might contain some clue
+as to the localisation of the Blind Spot, had dug without result in the
+bluish clay.
+
+Sir Henry picked up the spade, which had never been moved from where
+Jerome had dropped it. And while I went on to tell about the pool of
+liquids, which for some unknown reason had not seeped into the soil
+since forming there, the Englishman proceeded to dig vigorously into the
+heap I had mentioned.
+
+The rest of us watched him thoughtfully. We remembered that Jerome's
+digging had been done after Queen's disappearance. And the dog had
+vanished in the rear room, the one in which Chick and Dr. Holcomb had
+last been seen. Now, when Jerome had dug the clay from the basement
+under this, the dining-room, he had thrown it through the once concealed
+opening in the partition; had thrown the clay, that is, in a small heap
+under the library. And--after Jerome had done this the phenomena had
+occurred in the library, not in the dining-room.
+
+"By Jove!" ejaculated General Hume, as I pointed this out. "This may be
+something more, you know, that mere coincidence!"
+
+Sir Henry said nothing, but continued his spading. He paid attention to
+nothing save the heap that Jerome had formed. And with each spadeful he
+bent over and examined the clay very carefully.
+
+Miss Clarke and Mme. Le Fabre both remained very calm about it all.
+Each from her own viewpoint regarded the work as more or less a waste of
+time. But I noticed that they did not take their eyes from the spade.
+
+Sir Henry stopped to rest. "Let me," offered Herold; and went on as the
+Englishman had done, holding up each spadeful for inspection. And it was
+thus that we made a strange discovery.
+
+We all saw it at the same time. Embedded in the bluish earth was a
+small, egg-shaped piece of light-coloured stone. And protruding from its
+upper surface was a tiny, blood-red pebble, no bigger than a good-sized
+shot.
+
+Herold thrust the point of his spade under the stone, to lift it up.
+Whereupon he gave a queer exclamation.
+
+"Well, that's funny!" holding the stone up in front of us. "That little
+thing's as heavy as--as--it's HEAVIER than lead!"
+
+Sir Henry picked the stone off the spade. Immediately the material
+crumbled in his hands, as though rotting, so that it left only the
+small, red pebble intact. Sir Henry weighed this thoughtfully in his
+palm, then without a word handed it around.
+
+We all wondered at the pebble. It was most astonishingly heavy. As I
+say, it was no bigger than a fair-sized shot, yet it was vastly heavier.
+
+Afterward we weighed it, upstairs, and found that the trifle weighed
+over half a pound. Considering its very small bulk, this worked out to
+be a specific gravity of 192.6 or almost ten times as heavy as the same
+bulk of pure gold. And gold is heavy.
+
+Inevitably we saw that there must be some connection between this
+unprecedentedly heavy speck of material and that lighter-than-air gem
+of mystery. For the time being we were careful to keep the two apart. As
+for the unexplained footsteps, they were still slightly audible, as the
+invisible creatures moved around the cellar.
+
+At last we turned to go. I let the others lead the way. Thus I was
+the last to approach the steps; and it was at that moment that I felt
+something brush against my foot.
+
+I stooped down. My hands collided with the thing that had touched me.
+And I found myself clutching--
+
+Something invisible--something which, in that brilliant light, showed
+absolutely nothing to my eyes. But my hands told me I was grasping a
+very real thing, as real as my fingers themselves.
+
+I made some sort of incoherent exclamation. The others turned and peered
+at me.
+
+"What is it?" came Herold's excited voice.
+
+"I don't know!" I gasped. "Come here."
+
+But Sir Henry was the first to reach me. Next instant he, too, was
+fingering the tiny, unseen object. And such was his iron nerve and
+superior self-control, he identified it almost at once.
+
+"By the lord!"--softly. "Why, it's a small bird! Come here."
+
+Another second and they were all there. I was glad enough of it; for,
+like a flash, with an unexpectedness that startles me even now as I
+think of it--
+
+The thing became visible. Right in my grasp, a little fluttering bird
+came to life.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+SOLVED
+
+
+It was a tiny thing, and most amazingly beautiful. It could not have
+stood as high as a canary; and had its feathers been made of gleaming
+silver they could not have been lovelier. And its black-plumed head, and
+long, blossom-like tail, were such as no man on earth ever set eyes on.
+
+Like a flash it was gone. Not more than a half a second was this
+enchanting apparition visible to us. Before we could discern any more
+than I have mentioned, it not only vanished but it ceased to make any
+sounds whatever. And each of us drew a long breath, as one might after
+being given a glimpse of an angel.
+
+Right now, five or six hours after the events I have just described, it
+is very easy for me to smile at my emotions of the time. How startled
+and mystified I was! And--why not confess it?--just a trifle afraid.
+Why? Because I didn't understand! Merely that.
+
+At this moment I sit in my laboratory upstairs in that house, rejoicing
+in having reached the end of the mystery. For the enigma of the Blind
+Spot is no more. I have solved it!
+
+Now twenty feet away, in another room, lies Ariadne. Already there is
+a faint trace of colour in her cheeks, and her heart is beating more
+strongly. Another hour, says Dr. Higgins, and she will be restored to
+us!
+
+The time is seven p.m. I didn't sleep at all last night; I haven't slept
+since. For the past five hours we have been working steadily on the
+mystery, ever since our finding that little, red pebble in the basement.
+The last three hours of the time I have been treating Ariadne, using
+means which our discoveries indicated. And in order to keep awake I have
+been dictating this account to a stenographer.
+
+This young lady, a Miss Dibble, is downstairs, where her typewriter will
+not bother. Yes, put that down, too, Miss Dibble; I want people to know
+everything! She has a telephone clamped to her ears, and I am talking
+into a microphone which is fixed to a stand on my desk.
+
+On that desk are four switches. All are of the four-way two-pole type;
+and from them run several wires, some going to one end of the room,
+where they are attached to the Holcomb gem. Others, running to the
+opposite end, making contact with the tiny heavy stone we found in the
+basement. Other wires run from the switches to lead bands around my
+wrists. Also, between switches are several connections--one circuit
+containing an amplifying apparatus. By throwing these switches in
+various combinations, I can secure any given alteration of forces, and
+direct them where I choose.
+
+For there are two other wires. These run from my own lead bracelets to
+another room; a pair clamped around the wrists of Ariadne.
+
+For I, Hobart Fenton, am now a living, human transforming station. I am
+converting the power of the Infinite into the Energy of Life. And I am
+transmitting that power directly out of the ether, as conduced through
+these two marvellous stones, back into the nervous system of the girl I
+love. Another hour, and she will Exist!
+
+It was all so very simple, now that I understand it. And yet--well, an
+absolutely new thing is always very hard to put into words.
+
+To begin with, I must acknowledge the enormous help which I have had
+from my friends: Miss Clarke, Mme. Le Fabre, General Hume, Dr. Malloy,
+and Herold. These people are still in the house with me; I think they
+are eating supper. I've already had mine. Really, I can't take much
+credit to myself for what I have found out. The others supplied most of
+the facts. I merely happened to fit them together; and, because of my
+relationship to the problem, am now doing the heroic end of the work.
+
+As for Harry--he and Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson and even the dog--I shall
+have them out of the Blind Spot inside of twelve hours. All I need is
+a little rest. I'll go straight to bed as soon as I finish reviving
+Ariadne; and when I wake up, we'll see who's who, friend Rhamda!
+
+I'm too exuberant to hold myself down to the job of telling what I've
+discovered. But it's got to be done. Here goes!
+
+I practically took my life in my hands when I first made connection.
+However, I observed the precaution of rigging up a primary connection
+direct from the ring to the pebble, running the wire along the floor
+some distance away from where I sat. No ill effects when I ventured into
+the line of force; so I began to experiment with the switches.
+
+That precautionary circuit was Herold's idea. His, also, the amplifying
+apparatus. The mental attitude was Miss Clarke's, modified by Dr.
+Malloy. The lead bracelets were Mme. Le Fabre's suggestion; they
+work fine. Sir Henry was the one who pointed out the advantage of the
+microphone I am using. If my hands become paralysed I can easily call
+for help to my side.
+
+Well, the first connection I tried resulted in nothing. Perfectly blank.
+Then I tried another and another, meanwhile continually adjusting the
+amplifier; and as a result I am now able, at will, to do either or all
+of the following:
+
+(1) I can induct sounds from the Blind Spot; (2) I can induct light, or
+visibility; or (3) any given object or person, in toto.
+
+And now to tell how. No, I'm just sleepy, not weak.
+
+Let's see; where was I? Oh, yes; those connections. They've got to be
+done just right, with the proper tension in the coils, and the correct
+mental attitude, to harmonise. I wish I wasn't so tired!
+
+One moment! No, no; I'm all right. I--Queer! By Jove, that's a funny
+thing just now! I must have got an inducted current from another wire,
+mixed with these! And--I got a glimpse into the Blind Spot!
+
+A great--No; it's a--What a terrific crowd! Wonder what they're all--By
+Jove, it's--Good Lord, it's he! And Chick! No, I'm not wandering! I'm
+having the experience of my life!
+
+Now--THAT'S the boy! Don't let 'em bluff you! Good! Good! Tell 'em where
+to head in! That's the boy! Rub it in! I don't know what you're up to,
+but I'm with you!
+
+Er--there's a big crowd of ugly looking chaps there, and I can't make it
+out--Just a moment--a moment. What does it mean, anyway? Just--I--
+
+DANGER, by Heaven! THAT'S what it means!
+
+No; I'm all right. The--thing came to an end, abruptly. That's all;
+everything normal again; the room just the same as it was a moment ago.
+Hello! I seem to have started something! The wire down on the floor has
+commenced to hum! Oh, I've got my eye on it, and if anything--
+
+Miss Dibble! Tell Herold to come! On the run! Quick! Did you? Good!
+don't stop writing! I--
+
+There's Chick! CHICK! How did you get here? What? YOU CAN'T SEE ME!
+Why--
+
+Chick! Listen! Listen, man! I've gone into the Blind Spot! Write this
+down! The connection--
+
+That's Herold! Herold, this is Chick Watson! Listen, now, you
+two! The--the--I can hardly--it's from No. 4 to--to--to the
+ring--then--coil--
+
+Both switches, Chick! Ah! I've--
+
+NOTE BY MISS L. DIBBLE.--Just as Mr. Fenton made the concluding remark
+as above, there came a loud crash, followed by the voice of Mr. Herold.
+Then, there came a very loud clang from a bell; just one stroke. After
+which I caught Mr. Fenton's voice:
+
+"Herold--Chick can tell you what IT wants us to do--"
+
+And with that, his voice trailed off into nothing, and died away. As for
+Mr. Fenton himself, I am informed that he has utterly disappeared; and
+in his stead there now exists a man who is known to Dr. Hansen as Chick
+Watson.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+THE MAN FROM SPACE
+
+
+Before starting the conclusion of the Blind Spot mystery it may be
+just as well for the two publicists who are bringing it to the press to
+follow Hobart Fenton's example and go into a bit of explanation.
+
+The two men who wrote the first two parts were participants, and
+necessarily writing almost in the present tense. While they could give
+an accurate and vivid account of their feelings and experiences, they
+could only guess at what lay in the future, at the events that would
+unravel it all.
+
+But the present writers have the advantage of working, of seeing, of
+weighing in the retrospect. They know just where they are going.
+
+The coming of Chick Watson brought new perspective. Hitherto we had been
+looking into the darkness. Whatever had been caught in the focus of the
+Spot had become lost to our five senses.
+
+Yet, facts are facts. It was no mere trickery that had caught Dr.
+Holcomb in the beginning. One by one, men of the highest standards and
+character had been either victims or witness to its reality and power.
+
+So the coming of Watson may well be set down as one of the deciding
+moments of history. He who had been the victim a year before was
+returning through the very Spot that had engulfed him. He was the herald
+of the great unknown, an ambassador of the infinite itself.
+
+It will be remembered that of all the inmates of the house, Dr. Hansen
+was the only one who had a personal acquaintance with Watson. One year
+before the doctor had seen him a shadow--wasted, worn, exhausted. He had
+talked with him on that memorable night in the cafe. Well he remembered
+the incident, and the subject of that strange conversation--the secret
+of life that had been discovered by the missing Dr. Holcomb. And Dr.
+Hansen had pondered it often since.
+
+What was the force that was pulsing through the Blind Spot? It had
+reached out on the earth, and had plucked up youth as well as wisdom.
+THIS was the first time it had ever given up that which it had taken!
+
+It was Watson, sure enough; but it was not the man he had known one year
+before. Except for the basic features Hansen would not have recognized
+him; the shadow was gone, the pallor, the touch of death. He was hale
+and radiant; his skin had the pink glow of alert fitness; except for
+being dazed, he appeared perfectly natural. In the tense moment of his
+arrival the little group waited in silence. What had he to tell them?
+
+But he did not see them at first. He groped about blindly, moving slowly
+and holding his hands before him. His face was calm and settled; its
+lines told decision. There was not a question in any mind present but
+that the man had come for a purpose.
+
+Why could he not see? Perhaps the light was too dim. Some one thought to
+turn on the extra lights.
+
+It brought the first word from Watson. He threw up both arms before his
+face; like one shutting out the lightning.
+
+"Don't!" he begged. "Don't! Shut off the lights; you will blind me!
+Please; please! Darken the room!"
+
+Sir Henry sprang to the switch. Instantly the place went to shadow;
+there was just enough light from the moon to distinguish the several
+forms grouped in the middle of the room. Dr. Hansen proffered a chair.
+
+"Thank you! Ah! Dr. Hansen! You are here--I had thought--This is much
+better! I can see fairly well now. You came very near to blinding me
+permanently! You didn't know. It's the transition." Then: "And yet--of
+course! It's the moon! THE MOON!"
+
+He stopped. There was a strange wistfulness in the last word. And
+suddenly he rose to his feet. He turned in gladness, as though to drink
+in the mellow flow of the radiance.
+
+"The moon! Gentlemen--doctor--who are these people? This is the house
+of the Blind Spot! And it is the moon--the good old earth! And San
+Francisco!"
+
+He stopped again. There was a bit of indecision and of wonder mixed
+with his gladness. The stillness was only broken by the scarcely audible
+voice of Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+"Now we KNOW! It is proven. The sceptics have always asked why the
+spirits work only in the half light. We know now."
+
+Watson looked to Dr. Hansen. "Who is this lady? Who are these others?"
+
+"Can you see them?"
+
+"Perfectly. It is the lady in the corner; she thinks--"
+
+"That you are a spirit!"
+
+Watson laughed. "I a spirit? Try me and see!"
+
+"Certainly," asserted Mme. Le Fabre. "You are out of the Blind Spot. I
+know; it will prove everything!"
+
+"Ah, yes; the Spot." Watson hesitated. Again the indecision. There was
+something latent that he could not recall; though conscious, part of his
+mind was still in the apparent fog that lingers back into slumber.
+
+"I don't understand," he spoke. "Who are you?"
+
+It was Sir Henry this time. "Mr. Watson, we are a sort of committee.
+This is the house at 288 Chatterton Place. We are after the great secret
+that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb. We were summoned by Hobart Fenton."
+
+Consciousness is an enigma. Hitherto Watson had been almost inert;
+his actions and manner of speech had been mechanical. That it was the
+natural result of the strange force that had thrown him out, no one
+doubted. The mention of Hobart Fenton jerked him into the full vigour of
+wide-awake thinking; he straightened himself.
+
+"Hobart! Hobart Fenton! Where is he?"
+
+"That we do not know," answered Sir Henry. "He was here a moment ago. It
+is almost too impossible for belief. Perhaps you can tell us."
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"Exactly. Into the Blind Spot. One and the other; your coming was
+coincident with his going!"
+
+Chick raised up. Even in that faint light they could appreciate the full
+vigour of his splendid form. He was even more of an athlete than in his
+college days, before the Blind Spot took him. And when he realised what
+Sir Henry had said he held up one magnificent arm, almost in the manner
+of benediction:
+
+"Hobart has gone through? Thank Heaven for that!"
+
+It was a puzzle. True, in that little group there was represented the
+accumulated wisdom of human effort. With the possible exception of the
+general, there was not a sceptic among them. They were ready to explain
+almost anything--but this.
+
+In the natural weakness of futility they had come to associate the
+aspect of death or terror with the Blind Spot. Yet, here was Watson!
+Watson, alive and strong; he was the reverse of what they had
+subconsciously expected.
+
+"What is this Blind Spot?" inquired Sir Henry evenly. "And what do you
+mean by giving thanks that Fenton has gone into it?"
+
+"Not now. Not one word of explanation until--What time is it?" Watson
+broke off to demand.
+
+They told him. He began to talk rapidly, with amazing force and
+decision, and in a manner whose sincerity left no chance for doubt.
+
+"Then we have five hours! Not one second to lose. Do what I say, and
+answer my questions!" Then: "We must not fail; one slip, and the whole
+world will be engulfed--in the unknown! Turn on the lights."
+
+There was that in the personality and the vehemence of the man that
+precluded opposition. Out of the Blind Spot had come a dynamic quality,
+along with the man; a quickening influence that made Watson swift, sure,
+and positive. Somehow they knew it was a moment of Destiny.
+
+Watson went on:
+
+"First, did Hobart Fenton open the Spot? Or was it a period? By 'period'
+I mean, did it open by chance, as it did when it caught Harry and me?
+Just what did Hobart do? Tell me!"
+
+It was a singular question. How could they answer it? However, Dr.
+Malloy related as much as he knew of what Hobart had done; his wires
+and apparatus were now merely a tangled mass of fused metals. Nothing
+remained intact but the blue gem and the red pebble.
+
+"I see. And this pebble: you found it by digging in the cellar, I
+suppose."
+
+How did he know that? Dr. Hansen brought that curiously heavy little
+stone and laid it in Watson's hand. The newcomer touched it with his
+finger, and for a brief moment he studied it. Then he looked up.
+
+"It's the small one," he stated. "And you found it in the cellar. It was
+very fortunate; the opening of the Spot was perhaps a little more than
+half chance. But it was wonderfully lucky. It let me out. And with the
+help of God and our own courage we may open it again, long enough to
+rescue Hobart, Harry, and Dr. Holcomb. Then--we must break the chain--we
+must destroy the revelation; we must close the Spot forever!"
+
+Small wonder that they couldn't understand what he meant. Dr. Hansen
+thought to cut in with a practical question:
+
+"My dear Chick, what's inside the Spot? We want to know!"
+
+But it was not Watson who answered. It was Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+"Spirits, of course."
+
+Watson gave a sudden laugh. This time he answered:
+
+"My dear lady, if you know what I know, and what Dr. Holcomb has
+discovered, you would ask YOURSELF a question or so. Possibly you
+yourself are a spirit!"
+
+"What!" she gasped. "I--a spirit!"
+
+"Exactly. But there is no time for questions. Afterwards--not now. Five
+hours, and we must--"
+
+Someone came to the door. It was Jerome. At the sight of Watson he
+stopped, clutching the stub of his cigar between his teeth. His grey
+eyes took in the other's form from head to shoe leather.
+
+"Back?" he inquired. "What did you find out, Watson? They must have fed
+you well over yonder!"
+
+And Jerome pointed toward the ceiling with his thumb. It wasn't in his
+dour nature to give way to enthusiasm; this was merely his manner of
+welcome. Watson smiled.
+
+"The eats were all right, Jerome, but not all the company. You're just
+the man I want. We have little time; none to spare for talk. Are you in
+touch with Bertha Holcomb?"
+
+The detective nodded.
+
+Watson took the chair that Fenton had so strangely vacated and reached
+for paper and pencil. Once or twice he stopped to draw a line, but
+mostly he was calculating. He referred constantly to a paper he took
+from his pocket. When he was through he spread his palm over what he had
+written.
+
+"Jerome!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are no longer connected with headquarters, I presume. But--can you
+get men?"
+
+"If need be."
+
+"You will need them!" Just then Watson noticed the uniform of General
+Hume. "Jerome, can you give this officer a bodyguard?"
+
+It was both unusual and lightning-sudden. Nevertheless, there was
+something in Watson's manner that called for no challenge; something
+that would have brooked no refusal. And the general, although a sceptic,
+was acting solely from force of habit when he objected:
+
+"It seems to me, Watson, that you--"
+
+Those who were present are not likely to forget it. Some men are born,
+some rise, to the occasion; but Watson was both. He was clear-cut,
+dominant, inexorable. He levelled his pencil at the general.
+
+"It SEEMS to you! General, let me ask you: If your country's safety were
+at stake, would you hesitate to throw reinforcements into the breach?"
+
+"Hardly."
+
+"All right. It's settled. Take care of your red tape AFTERWARDS."
+
+He wheeled to the detective. "Jerome, this is a sketch of the
+compartments of Dr. Holcomb's safe. Not the large one in his house, but
+the small one in his laboratory. Go straight to Dwight Way. Give this
+note," indicating another paper, "to Bertha Holcomb. Tell her that her
+father is safe, and that I am out of the Blind Spot. Tell her you have
+come to open the laboratory safe. I've written down the combination. If
+it doesn't work use explosives; there's nothing inside which force can
+harm. In the compartment marked 'X' you will find a small particle about
+the size of a pea, wrapped in tin-foil, and locked in a small metal box.
+You will have to break the box. As for the contents, once you see the
+stone you can't mistake it; it will weigh about six pounds. Get it, and
+guard it with your life!"
+
+"All right."
+
+Jerome put Watson's instructions in his wallet, at the same time
+glancing about the room.
+
+"Where is Fenton?" he asked.
+
+It was Watson who answered. He gave us the first news that had ever come
+from the Blind Spot. He spoke with firm deliberation, as though in full
+realisation of the sensation:
+
+"Hobart Fenton has gone through the Blind Spot. Just now he is right
+here in this room."
+
+Sir Henry jumped.
+
+"In this room! Is that what you said, Watson?"
+
+The other ignored him.
+
+"Jerome, you haven't a minute to lose! You and the general; bring that
+stone back to this house at ANY cost! Hurry!"
+
+In another moment Jerome and Hume were gone. And few people, that day,
+suspected the purport of that body of silent men who crossed over the
+Bay of San Francisco. They were grim, and trusted, and under secret
+orders. They had a mission, did they but know it, as important as any
+in history. But they knew only that they were to guard Jerome and the
+general at all hazards. One peculiarly heavy stone, "the size of a pea"!
+How are we ever to calculate its value?
+
+As for the group remaining with Watson, not one of them ever dreamed
+that any danger might come out of the Blind Spot. Its manifestations had
+been local and mostly negative. No; the main incentive of their interest
+had been simply curiosity.
+
+But apparently Watson was above them all. He paid no further attention
+to them for a while; he bent at Fenton's desk and worked swiftly. At
+length he thrust his papers aside.
+
+"I want to see that cellar," he announced. "That is, the point where you
+found that red pebble!"
+
+Down in the basement, Sir Henry gave the details. When he came to
+mention the various liquids which Fenton had poured into the woodwork
+upstairs Watson examined the pool intently.
+
+"Quite so. They would come out here--naturally."
+
+"Naturally!"
+
+Sir Henry could not understand. His perplexity was reflected in the
+faces of Herold, the two physicians, Dr. Malloy, Miss Clarke, and Mme.
+Le Fabre--and Charlotte spoke for them all:
+
+"Can't you explain, Mr. Watson? The woodwork had nothing whatever to do
+with the cellar. There was the floor between, just as you see it now."
+
+"Naturally," Watson repeated. "It could be no other place! It was on its
+way to the other side, but it could go only half-way. Simply a matter
+of focus, you know. I beg pardon; you must hold your curiosity a little
+longer."
+
+He began measuring. First he located the line across the floorjoists
+overhead, where rested the partition separating the dining-room from
+the parlour. Finding the middle of this line, he dropped an improvised
+plumb-line to the ground; and from this spot as centre, using a string
+about ten feet long, he described a circle on the earth. Then, referring
+to his calculations, he proceeded to locate several points with small
+stakes pressed into the soil. Then he checked them off and nodded.
+
+"It's even better than the professor thought. His theory is all but
+proven. If Jerome and Hume can deliver the other stone without accident,
+we can save those now inside the Spot." Then, very solemnly: "But we
+face a heavy task. It will be another Thermopylae. We must hold the gate
+against an occult Xerxes, together with all his horde."
+
+"The hosts of the dead!" exclaimed Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+"No; the living! Just give me time, Madame, and you will see something
+hitherto undreamed of. As for your theory--tomorrow you may doubt
+whether you are living or dead! In other words, Dr. Holcomb has
+certainly proved the occult by material means. He has done it with a
+vengeance. In so doing he has left us in doubt as to ourselves; and
+unless he discovers the missing factor within the next few hours we are
+going to be in the anomalous position of knowing plenty about the next
+world, but nothing about ourselves."
+
+He paused. He must have known that their curiosity could not hold out
+much longer. He said:
+
+"Now, just one thing more, friends, and I can tell you everything, while
+we are waiting for Jerome and the general to return. But first I must
+see the one who preceded me out of the spot."
+
+"Ariadne!" from Charlotte, in wonder.
+
+"Ariadne!" exclaimed Watson. He was both puzzled and amazed. "Did you
+call her--Ariadne?"
+
+"She is upstairs," cut in Dr. Higgins.
+
+"I must see her!"
+
+A minute or two later they stood in the room where the girl lay. The
+coverlet was thrown back somewhat revealing the bare left arm and
+shoulder, and the delicately beautiful face upon the pillow. Her golden
+hair was spread out in riotous profusion. The other hand was just
+protruding from the coverlet, and displayed a faint red mark, showing
+where Hobart's bracelet had been fastened at the moment he disappeared.
+
+Charlotte stepped over and laid her hand against the girl's cheek.
+"Isn't she wonderful!" she murmured.
+
+But Dr. Higgins looked to Watson.
+
+"Do you know her?"
+
+The other nodded. He stooped over and listened to her breathing. His
+manner was that of reverence and admiration. He touched her hand.
+
+"I see how it must have happened. Precisely what I experienced, only--"
+Then: "You call her Ariadne?"
+
+"We had to call her something," replied Charlotte. "And the name--it
+just came, I suppose."
+
+"Perhaps. Anyhow, it was a remarkably good guess. Her true name is the
+Aradna."
+
+"THE Aradna? Who--what is she?"
+
+"Just that: the Aradna. She is one of the factors that may save us.
+And on earth we would call her queen." Then, without waiting for the
+inevitable question, Watson said:
+
+"Your professional judgment will soon come to the supreme test, Dr.
+Higgins. She is simply numbed and dazed from coming through the Spot."
+Charlotte had already described to him the girl's arrival. "The mystery
+is that she was permitted an hour of rationality before this came upon
+her. I wonder if Hobart's vitality had anything to do with it?"--half to
+himself. "As for the Rhamda"--he smiled--"he is merely interested in
+the Spot; that is all. He would never harm the Aradna; he had nothing
+whatever to do with her condition. We were mistaken about the man.
+Anyway, it is the Spot of Life that interests us now."
+
+"The Spot of Life," repeated Sir Henry. "Is that--"
+
+"Yes; the Blind Spot, as it is known from the other side. It overtops
+all your sciences, embraces every cult, and lies at the base of all
+truth. It is--it is everything."
+
+"Explain!"
+
+Watson turned to the head upon the pillow. He ventured to touch the
+cheek, with a trace of tenderness in his action and of wistfulness near
+to reverence. It was not love; it was rather as one might touch a fairy.
+In both spirit and substance she was truly of another world. Watson gave
+a soft sigh and looked up at the Englishman.
+
+"Yes, I can explain. Now that I know she is well, I shall tell you all
+I know from the beginning. It's certainly your turn to ask questions.
+I may not be able to tell you all that you want to know; but at least I
+know more than any other person this side of the Spot. Let us go down to
+the library."
+
+He glanced at a clock. "We have nearly five hours remaining. Our test
+will come when we open the Spot. We must not only open it, but we must
+close it at all costs."
+
+They had reached the lower hall. At the front door Watson paused and
+turned to the others.
+
+"Just a moment. We may fail tonight. In case we do, I would like one
+last look at my own world--at San Francisco."
+
+He opened the door. The rest hung back; though they could not
+understand, they could sense, vaguely, the emotion of this strange man
+of brave adventure. The scene, the setting, the beauty, were all akin
+to the moment. Watson, stood bareheaded, looking down at the blinking
+lights of the city of the Argonauts. The moon in a starlit sky was
+drifting through a ragged lace of cloud. And over it all was a momentary
+hush, as though the man's emotion had called for it.
+
+No one spoke. At last Watson closed the door. And there was just the
+trace of tears in his eyes as he spoke:
+
+"Now my friends--" And led the way into the parlour.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+THE OCCULT WORLD
+
+
+"In telling what I know," began Watson, "I shall use a bit of a preface.
+It's necessary, in a way, if you are to understand me; besides, it will
+give you the advantage of looking into the Blind Spot with the clear
+eyes of reason. I intend to tell all, to omit nothing. My purpose in
+doing this is that, in case we should fail tonight, you will be able to
+give my account to the world."
+
+It was a strange introduction. His listeners exchanged thoughtful
+glances. But they all affirmed, and Sir Henry hitched his chair almost
+impatiently.
+
+"All right, Mr. Watson. Please proceed."
+
+"To begin with," said Watson, "I assume that you all know of Dr.
+Holcomb's announcement concerning the Blind Spot. You remember that he
+promised to solve the occult; how he foretold that he would prove it not
+by immaterial but by the very material means; that he would produce the
+fact and the substance.
+
+"Now, the professor had promised to deliver something far greater than
+he had thought it to be. At the same time, what he knew of the
+Blind Spot was part conjecture and part fact. Like his forebears and
+contemporaries, he looked upon man as the real being.
+
+"But it's a question, now, as to which is reality and which is not.
+There is not a branch of philosophy that looks upon the question in that
+light. Bishop Berkeley came near and he has been followed by others; but
+they all have been deceived by their own sophistry. However, except for
+the grossest materialists, all thinkers take cognizance of a hereafter.
+
+"No one dreamed of a Blind Spot and what it may lead to, what it might
+contain. We are five-sensed; we interpret the universe by the measure of
+five yardsticks. Yet, the Blind Spot takes even those away; the more we
+know, it seems, the less certain we are of ourselves. As I said to Mme.
+Le Fabre, it is a difficult question to determine, after all, just who
+are the ghosts. At any rate, I KNOW"--and he paused for effect--"I know
+that there are uncounted millions who look upon us and our workings as
+entirely supernatural!
+
+"Remember that what I have to tell you is just as real as your own lives
+have been since babyhood.
+
+"It was slightly over a year ago that my last night on the earth
+arrived.
+
+"I had gone out for the evening, in the forlorn hope of meeting a
+friend, of having some slight taste of pleasure before the end came.
+
+"For several days I had been labouring under a sort of premonition,
+knowing that my life was slowly seeping away and that my vitality was
+slipping, bit by bit, to what I thought must be death. Had I then known
+what I know now, I could have saved myself. But if I had done it, if I
+had saved myself, we would never have found Dr. Holcomb.
+
+"Perhaps it was the same fate that led me to Harry, that night. I don't
+know. Nevertheless, if there is any truth in what I have learned on
+the other side of the Blind Spot, it would seem that there is something
+higher than mere fate. I had never believed in luck; but when everything
+works out to a fraction of a breath, one ceases to be sceptical on the
+question of destiny and chance. _I_ say, everything that happened that
+night was FORCED from the other side. In short, my giving that ring to
+Harry was simply a link in the chain of circumstances. It just had to
+be; the PROPHECY would not have had it otherwise."
+
+Without stopping to explain what he meant by the word "prophecy," Watson
+went on:
+
+"That's what makes it puzzling. I have never been able to understand
+how every bit has dovetailed with such exactness. We--you and I--are
+certainly not supernatural; and yet, on the other side of the Spot, the
+proof is overwhelmingly convincing.
+
+"I was very weak that night. So weak that it is difficult for me to
+remember. The last I recollect was my going to the back of the house;
+to the kitchen, I think. I had a light in my hands. The boys were in the
+front room, waiting. One of them had opened a door some yards away from
+where I stood.
+
+"Coming as it did, on the instant, it is difficult to describe. But I
+knew it instinctively for what it was: the dot of blue on the ceiling,
+and the string of light. Then, a sensation of falling, like dropping
+into space itself. It is hard to describe the horrifying terror of
+plunging head on from an immense height to a plain at a vastly lower
+level.
+
+"And that's all that I remember--from this side." [Footnote: NOTE.--In
+justice to Mr. Watson, the present writers have thought it best at this
+stage to transpose the story from the first to the third person. Any
+narrative, unless it is negative in its material, is hard to give in
+the first person; for where the narrator has played an active, positive
+part, he must either curb himself or fall under the slur of braggadocio.
+Yet, the world wants the details exactly as they happened; hence the
+transposition. EDITORS.]
+
+Watson opened his eyes.
+
+The first thing was light and a sense of great pain. There was a
+pressure at the back of the eyeballs, a poignant sensation not unlike
+a knife-thrust; that, and a sudden fear of madness, of drivelling
+helplessness.
+
+The abrupt return of consciousness in such a condition is not easy to
+imagine. After all he had gone through, this strange sequel must have
+been terribly puzzling to him. He was a man of good education, well
+versed in psychology; in the first rush of consciousness he tried, as
+best he could, to weigh himself up in the balance of aberration. And it
+was this very fact that gave him his reassurance; for it told him that
+he could think, could reason, could count on a mind in full function.
+
+But he could not see. The pain in his eyeballs was blinding. There was
+nothing he could distinguish; everything was woven together, a mere
+blaze of wonderful, iridescent, blazing coloration.
+
+But if he could not see, he could feel. The pain was excruciating.
+He closed his eyes and fell to thinking, curiously enough, that the
+experience was similar to what he had gone through when upon learning to
+swim, he had first opened his eyes under the water. It had been under
+a blazing sun. The pain and the colour--it was much the same, only
+intensified.
+
+Then he knew that he was very tired. The mere effort of that one thought
+had cost him vitality. He dropped back into unconsciousness, such as
+was more insensibility than slumber. He had strange dreams, of people
+walking, of women, and of many voices. It was blurred and indistinct,
+yet somehow not unreal. Then, after an unguessable length of time--he
+awoke.
+
+He was much stronger. The lapse may have been very long; he could not
+know. But the pain in his eyes was gone; and he ventured to open the
+lids again in the face of the light that had been so baffling. This time
+he could see; not distinctly, but still enough to assure him of reality.
+By closing his eyes at intervals he was able to rest them and to
+accustom them gradually to the new degree of light. And after a bit he
+could see plainly.
+
+He was on a cot, and in a room almost totally different from any that
+he had ever seen before. The colour of the walls, even, was dissimilar;
+likewise the ceiling. It was white, in a way, and yet unlike it; neither
+did it resemble any of the various tints; to give it a name that he
+afterward learned--alna--implies but little. It was utterly new to him.
+
+Apparently he was alone. The room was not large; about the size of an
+ordinary bedroom. And after the first novelty of the unplaceable colour
+had worn off he began to take stock of his own person.
+
+First, he was covered by the finest of bed clothing, thick but
+exceedingly light. There was no counterpane, but two blankets and two
+sheets; and none of them corresponded to any colour or material he had
+ever known. He only knew that their tints were light rather than dark.
+
+Next, he moved his hands out from under the coverings, and held them up
+before his eyes. He was immensely puzzled. He naturally expected to see
+the worn, emaciated hands which had been his on that dramatic night; but
+the ones before him were plump, normal, of a healthy pink. The wrists
+likewise were in perfect condition, also his arms. He could not account
+for this sudden return to health, of the vigour he had known before he
+began to wear the ring. He lay back pondering.
+
+Presently he fell to examining his clothes. There were two garments made
+of a silk-like textile, rather heavy as to weight, but exceedingly soft
+as to touch. They were slightly darker than the bed clothing. In a way
+they were much like pyjamas, except that both were designed to be merely
+slipped into place, without buttons or draw-strings. That is, they were
+tailored to fit snugly over the shoulders and waist, while loose enough
+elsewhere.
+
+Then he noticed the walls of the room. They were after a simple,
+symmetrical style; coved--to use an architectural expression--or curved,
+where the corner would come with a radius much larger than common,
+amounting to four or five feet; so that a person of ordinary height
+could not stand close to the wall without stooping. Where the coved
+portion flowed into the perpendicular of the wall there was a broad
+moulding, like a plate rail, which acted as a support for the hanging
+pictures.
+
+Watson counted four of these pictures. Instinctively he felt that they
+might give him a valuable clue as to his whereabouts. For, while his
+mind had cleared enough for him to feel sure that he had truly come
+through the Spot, he knew nothing more. Where was he? What would the
+pictures tell?
+
+The first was directly before his eyes. In size perhaps two by three
+feet, with its greater length horizontal, it was more of a landscape
+than a portrait. And Watson's eagerness for the subject itself made him
+forget to note whether the work was mechanically or manually executed.
+
+For it revealed a girl--about ten or twelve--very slightly draped,
+enjoying a wild romp with a most extraordinary creature. It was this
+animal that made the picture amazing; there was no subtle significance
+in the scene--there was nothing remarkable about the technique. The
+whole interest, for Watson, was in the animal.
+
+It was a deer; perfect and beautiful, but cast in a Lilliputian mould.
+It stood barely a foot high, the most delicate thing he had ever looked
+upon. Mature in every detail of its proportion, the dainty hoofs, the
+fragile legs, smooth-coated body, and small, wide-antlered head--a
+miniature eight-pointer--made such a vision as might come to the dreams
+of a hunter.
+
+Chick rose up in bed, in order to examine it more closely. Immediately
+he fell back again slightly dizzy. He closed his eyes.
+
+Shortly he began examining the other pictures. Two of these were
+simple flower studies. Watson scarcely knew which puzzled him most; the
+blossoms or their containers. For the vases were like large-sized loving
+cups, broad as to body, and provided with a handle on either side. Their
+colours were unfamiliar. As for the blossoms--in one study the blooms
+were a half-dozen in number, and more like Shasta daisies than anything
+else. But their colour was totally unlike, while they possessed wide,
+striped stamens that gave the flowers an identity all their own. In
+the other vase were several varieties, and every one absolutely
+unrecognisable.
+
+On the opposite side of the room was something fairly familiar. At
+first glance it seemed a simple basket of kittens, done in black and
+white--something like crayon, and yet resembling sepia. Alongside the
+basket, however, was a spoon, one end resting on the edge of a saucer.
+And it was the size of the spoon that commanded Chick's attention;
+rather, the size of the kittens, any one of which could have curled up
+comfortably in the bowl of the spoon! Judging relatively, if it were an
+ordinary tablespoon, then the kittens were smaller than the smallest of
+mice.
+
+Chick gave it up. Presently he began speculating about the time. He
+decided that, whatever the hour might be, it was still daylight. In one
+wall of the room was a large, oval window, of a material which may as
+well be called glass, frosted, so as to permit no view of what might lie
+outside. But it allowed plenty of light to enter.
+
+Cut in the opposite wall was a doorway, hung with a curtain instead of
+a door. This curtain was a gauzy material, but its maroonlike shade
+completely hid all view of whatever lay beyond.
+
+Chick waited and listened. Hitherto he had not heard a sound. There was
+not even that subtle, mixed hum from the distance that we are accustomed
+to associate with silence. He felt certain that he was inside the Blind
+Spot; but as to just where that locality might lie, he knew as little
+as before. He knew only that he in a building of some sort. Where, and
+what, was the building?
+
+Just then he noticed a cord dangling from the ceiling. It came down to
+within six inches of his head. He gave it a pull.
+
+Whereupon he heard a faint, musical jangling in the distance. He tried
+to analyse the sound. It was not bell-like; perhaps the word "tinkling"
+would serve better. Provisionally, Chick placed the key at middle D.
+
+A moment later he heard steps outside the curtain. They were very soft
+and light and deliberate; and almost at the same instant a delicate
+white hand moved the curtain aside.
+
+It was a woman. Chick lay back and wondered. Although not beautiful she
+was very good to look at, with large blue eyes of a deep tenderness and
+sympathy, even features, and a wonderful fold of rich brown hair held in
+place by a satiny net.
+
+She started when she saw Chick's wide open eyes; then smiled, a motherly
+smile and compassionate. She was dressed in a manner at once becoming
+and odd, to one unaccustomed, in a gown that draped the entire figure,
+yet left the right arm and shoulder bare. Chick noticed that arm
+especially; it was white as marble, moulded full, and laced with fine
+blue veins. He had never seen an arm like that. Nor such a woman. She
+might have been forty.
+
+She came over to the bed and placed a hand on Chick's forehead. Again
+she smiled, and nodded.
+
+"How do you feel?" she asked.
+
+Now this is a strange thing; Watson could not account for it. For,
+although she did not speak English, yet he could understand her quite
+well. At the moment it seemed perfectly obvious; afterward, the fact
+became amazing.
+
+He answered in the same way, his thoughts directing his lips. And he
+found that as long as he made no conscious attempt to select the words
+for his thought, he could speak unhesitatingly.
+
+"Where am I?"
+
+She smiled indulgently, but did not answer.
+
+"Is this the--Blind Spot?"
+
+"The Blind Spot! I do not understand."
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"Your nurse. Perhaps," soothingly, "you would like to talk to the
+Rhamda."
+
+"The Rhamda!"
+
+"Yes. The Rhamda Geos."
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+THE PLUNGE
+
+
+The woman left him. For a while Chick reflected upon what she had said.
+In full rush of returning vigour his mind was working clearly and with
+analytical exactness.
+
+For the first time he noticed a heaviness in the air, overladen,
+pregnant. He became aware of a strange, undercurrent of life; of an
+exceedingly faint, insistent sound, pulse-like and rhythmical, like the
+breathing undertones of multitudes. He was a city man, and accustomed
+to the murmuring throbs of a metropolitan heart. But this was very
+different.
+
+Presently, amid the strangeness, he could distinguish the tinkle of
+elfin bells, almost imperceptible, but musical. The whole air was laden
+with a subdued music, lined, as it were, with a golden vibrancy of
+tintinnabulary cadence--distant, subdued, hardly more than a whisper,
+yet part of the air itself.
+
+It gave him the feeling that he was in a dream. In the realms of
+the subconscious he had heard just such sounds--exotic and
+unearthly--fleeting and evanescent.
+
+The notion of dreams threw his mind into sudden alertness. In an instant
+he was thinking systematically, and in the definite realisation of his
+plight.
+
+The woman had spoken of "the Rhamda." True, she had added a qualifying
+"Geos," but that did not matter. Whether Geos or Avec, it was still the
+Rhamda. By this time Watson was convinced that the word indicated some
+sort of title--whether doctor, or lord, or professor, was not important.
+What interested Chick was identity. If he could solve that he could get
+at the crux of the Blind Spot.
+
+He thought quickly. Apparently, it was Rhamda Avec who had trapped Dr.
+Holcomb. Why? What had been the man's motive? Watson could not say.
+He only knew the ethics of the deed was shaded with the subtleness
+of villainy. That behind it all was a purpose, a directing force and
+intelligence that was inexorable and irresistible.
+
+One other thing he knew; the Rhamda Avec came out of the region in which
+he, Watson, now found himself. Rather, he could have come from nowhere
+else. And Watson could feel certain that somewhere, somehow, he would
+find Dr. Holcomb.
+
+In that moment Watson determined upon his future course of action. He
+decided to state nothing, intimate nothing, either by word or deed, that
+might in any manner incriminate or endanger the professor. It was for
+him to learn everything possible and to do all he could to gain his
+points, without giving a particle of information in return. He must play
+a lone hand and a cautious one--until he found Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The fact of his position didn't appall him. Somehow, it had just the
+opposite effect. Perhaps it was because his strength had come back, and
+had brought with it the buoyancy that is natural to health. He could
+sense the vitality that surrounded him, poised, potential, waiting only
+the proper attitude on his part to become an active force. Something
+tremendous had happened to him, to make him feel like that. He was ready
+for anything.
+
+Five minutes passed. Watson was alert and ready when the woman returned,
+together with a companion. She smiled kindly, and announced:
+
+"The Rhamda Geos."
+
+At first Chick was startled. There was a resemblance to Rhamda Avec
+that ran almost to counterpart. The same refinement and elegance, the
+fleeting suggestion of youth, the evident age mingled with the same
+athletic ease and grace of carriage. Only he was somewhat shorter. The
+eyes were almost identical, with the peculiar quality of the iris and
+pupil that suggested, somehow, a culture inherited out of the centuries.
+He was dressed in a black robe, such as would befit a scholar.
+
+He smiled, and held out a hand. Watson noted the firm clasp, and the
+cold thrill of magnetism.
+
+"You wish to speak with me?"
+
+The voice was soft and modulated, resonant, of a tone as rich as bronze.
+
+"Yes. Where am I--sir?"
+
+"You do not know?"
+
+It seemed to Watson that there was real astonishment in the man's eyes.
+As yet it had not come to Chick that he himself might be just as much
+a mystery as the other. The only question in his mind at the moment was
+locality.
+
+"Is this the Blind Spot?"
+
+"The Blind Spot!"--with the same lack of comprehension that the woman
+had shown. "I do not understand you."
+
+"Well, how did I get here?"
+
+"Oh, as to that, you were found in the Temple of the Leaf. You were
+lying unconscious on the floor."
+
+"A temple! How did I get there, sir? Do you know?"
+
+"We only know that a moment before there was nothing; next
+instant--you."
+
+Watson thought. There was a subconscious sound that still lingered in
+his memory; a sound full-toned, flooding, enveloping. Was there any
+connection--
+
+"'The Temple of the Leaf,' you call it, sir. I seem to remember having
+heard a bell. Is there such a thing in that temple?"
+
+The Rhamda Geos smiled, his eyes brightening. "It is sometimes called
+the Temple of the Bell."
+
+"Ah!" A pause, and Watson asked, "Where is this temple? And is this room
+a part of the building?"
+
+"No. You are in the Sar-Amenive Hospital, an institution of the
+Rhamdas."
+
+The Rhamdas! So there were several of them. A sort of society, perhaps.
+
+"In San Francisco?"
+
+"No. San Francisco! Again I fail to understand. This locality is known
+as the Mahovisal."
+
+"The Mahovisal!" Watson thought in silence for a moment. He noted the
+extremely keen interest of the Rhamda, the ultra-intelligent flicker of
+the eyes, the light of query and critical analysis. "You call this the
+Mahovisal, sir? What is it: town, world or institution?"
+
+The other smiled again. The lines about his sensitive mouth were
+susceptible of various interpretations: emotion, or condescension, or
+the satisfying feeling that comes from the simple vindication of some
+inner conviction. His whole manner was that of interest and respectful
+wonder.
+
+"You have never heard of the Mahovisal? Never?"
+
+"Not until this minute," answered Watson.
+
+"You have no knowledge of anything before? Do you know WHO YOU ARE?"
+
+"I"--Watson hesitated, wondering whether he had best withhold this
+information. He decided to chance the truth. "My name is Chick Watson. I
+am--an American."
+
+"An American?"
+
+The Rhamda pronounced the word with a roll of the "r" that sounded more
+like the Chinese "Mellican" than anything else. It was evident that
+the sounds were totally unfamiliar to him. And his manner was a bit
+indefinite, doubtful, yet weighted with care, as he slowly repeated the
+question:
+
+"An American? Once more I don't understand. I have never heard the word,
+my dear sir. You are neither D'Hartian nor Kospian; although there are
+some--materialists for the most part--who contend that you are just as
+any one else. That is--a man."
+
+"Perhaps I am," returned Watson, utterly confounded. He did not know
+what to say. He had never heard of a Kospian or a D'Hartian, nor of the
+Mahovisal. It made things difficult; he couldn't get started. Most of
+all, he wanted information; and, instead, he was being questioned. The
+best he could do was to equivocate.
+
+As for the Rhamda, he frowned. Apparently his eager interest had been
+dashed with disappointment. But only slightly, as Watson could see; the
+man was of such culture and intellect as to have perfect control over
+his emotions. In his balance and poise he was very like Avec, and he had
+the same pleasing manner.
+
+"My dear sir," he began, "if you are really a man, then you can tell me
+something of great importance."
+
+"I" Chick retorted, "can tell you nothing until you first let me know
+just where I stand!"
+
+Certainly there was a lack of common ground. Until one of them supplied
+it, there could be no headway. Watson realised that his whole future
+might revolve about the axis of his next words.
+
+The Rhamda thought a moment, dubiously, like one who has had a pet
+theory damaged, though not shattered. Suddenly he spoke to the woman.
+
+"Open the portal," said he.
+
+She stepped to the oval window, touched a latch, and swung the pane
+horizontally upon two pivots. Immediately the room was flooded with a
+strange effulgence, amber-like, soft and mellow, as real sunshine.
+
+But it was NOT real sunshine!
+
+The window was set in a rather thick wall, beyond which Watson could
+see a royal sapphiric sky, flecked with white and purple and
+amethyst-threaded clouds poised above a great amber sleeping sun.
+
+It was the sun that challenged attention. It was so mild, and yet so
+utterly beyond what might be expected. In diameter it would have made
+six of the one Watson had known; in the blue distance, touching the rim
+of the horizon, it looked exactly like a huge golden plate set edgewise
+on the end of the earth.
+
+And--he could look straight at it without blinking!
+
+His thoughts ran back to the first account of the Rhamda. The man had
+looked straight at the sun and had been blinded. This accounted for
+it! The man had been accustomed to this huge, soft-glowing beauty. An
+amberous sun, deep yellow, sleeping; could it be, after all, dreamland?
+
+But there were other things: the myriad tintinnabulations of these
+microscopic bells, never ceasing, musically throbbing; and now, the
+exotic delight of the softest of perfumes, an air barely tinted with
+violet and rose, and the breath of woodland wild flowers. He could
+not comprehend it. He looked at the purple clouds above the lotus sun,
+hardly believing, and deeply in doubt.
+
+A great white bird dived suddenly out of the heavens and flew into
+the focus of his vision. In all the tales of his boyhood, of large and
+beautiful rocs and other birds, he had come across nothing like this.
+From the perspective it must have measured a full three hundred feet
+from tip to tip; it was shaped like a swan and flew like an eagle, with
+magnificent, lazy sweeps of the wings; while its plumage was as white as
+the snow, new fallen on the mountains. And right behind it, in pursuit,
+hurtled a huge black thing, fully as large and just as swift; a
+tremendous black crow, so black that its sides gave off a greenish
+shimmer.
+
+Just then the woman closed the window. It was as well; Watson was only
+human, and he could hide his curiosity just so long and no longer. He
+turned to the Rhamda.
+
+The man nodded. "I thought so," said he with satisfaction, as one might
+who has proven a pet and previous theory.
+
+Watson tried from another angle.
+
+"Just who do you think I am, sir?"
+
+The other smiled as before. "It is not what I may think," he replied:
+"but what I know. You are the proof that was promised us by the great
+Rhamda Avec. You are--THE FACT AND THE SUBSTANCE!"
+
+He waited for Watson's answer. Stupefaction delayed it. After a moment
+the Rhamda continued:
+
+"Is it not so? Am I not right? You are surely out of the occult, my dear
+sir. You are a spirit!"
+
+It took Chick wholly by surprise. He had been ready to deal with
+anything--but this. It was unreal, weird, impossible. And yet, why not?
+The professor had set out to remove forever the screen that had hitherto
+shrouded the shadow: but what had he revealed? What had the Spot
+disclosed? Unreality or REALITY? Which is which?
+
+In the inspiration of the moment, Chick saw that he had reached the
+crossroads of the occult. There was no time to think; there was time
+only for a plunge. And, like all strong men, Watson chose the deeper
+water.
+
+He turned to the Rhamda Geos.
+
+"Yes," said he quietly. "I--am a spirit."
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+UP FOR BREATH
+
+
+Rhamda Geos, instead of showing the concern and uneasiness that most
+men would show in the presence of an avowed ghost, evinced nothing but
+a deep and reverent happiness. He took Watson's hand almost shyly. And
+while his manner was not effusive, it had the warmth that comes from the
+heart of a scholar.
+
+"As a Rhamda," he declared, "I must commend myself for being the first
+to speak to you. And I must congratulate you, my dear sir, on having
+fallen, not into the hands of Bar Senestro, but into those of my own
+kind. It is a proof of the prophecy, and a vindication of the wisdom of
+the Ten Thousand.
+
+"I bid you welcome to the Thomahlia, and I offer you my services, as
+guide and sponsor."
+
+Chick did not reply at once. The chance he had taken was one of those
+rare decisions that come to genius; the whole balance of his fate might
+swing upon his sudden impulse. Not that he had any compunction; but he
+felt that it tied him down. It restricted him. Certainly almost any role
+would be easier than that of a spirit.
+
+He didn't feel like a ghost. He wondered just how a ghost would act,
+anyhow. What was more, he could not understand such a queer assumption
+on the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a ghost? Watson
+was natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda. This was scarcely
+his idea of a phantom's life. Most certainly, the two of them were men,
+nothing else; if one was a wraith, so was the other. But--how to account
+for it?
+
+Again he thought of Rhamda Avec. The words of Geos, "The Fact and the
+Substance," had been exactly synonymous with what had been said of Avec
+by Dr. Holcomb, "The proof of the occult."
+
+Was it indeed possible that these two great ones, from opposite poles,
+had actually torn away the veil of the shadow? And was this the place
+where he, Watson, must pose as a spirit, if he were to be accepted as
+genuine?
+
+The thought was a shock. He must play the same part here that the Rhamda
+had played on the other side of the Spot; but he would have to do
+it without the guiding wisdom of Avec. Besides, there was something
+sinister in the unknown force that had engulfed so strong a mind as the
+professor's; for while Watson's fate had been of his own seeking, that
+of the doctor smacked too much of treachery.
+
+He turned to the Rhamda Geos with a new question:
+
+"This Rhamda Avec--was he a man like yourself?"
+
+The other brightened again, and asked in return:
+
+"Then you have seen him!"
+
+"I--I do not know," answered Watson, caught off his guard. "But the name
+is familiar. I don't remember well. My mind is vague and confused. I
+recall a world, a wonderful world it was from which I came, and a great
+many people. But I can't place myself; I hardly--let me see--"
+
+The other nodded sympathetic approval.
+
+"I understand. Don't exert yourself. It is hardly to be expected that
+one forced out of the occult could come among us with his faculties
+unimpaired. We have had many communications with your world, and have
+always been frustrated by this one gulf which may not be crossed. When
+real thought gets across the border, it is often indefinite,
+sometimes mere drivel. Such answers as come from the void are usually
+disappointing, no matter how expert our mediums may be in communicating
+with the dead."
+
+"The dead! Did you say--the dead?"
+
+"Certainly; the dead. Are you not of the dead?"
+
+Watson shook his head emphatically.
+
+"Absolutely not! Not where I came from. We are all very much alive!"
+
+The other watched him curiously, his great eyes glowing with enthusiasm;
+the enthusiasm of the born seeker of the truth.
+
+"You don't mean," he asked, "that you have the same passions that we
+have here in life?"
+
+"I mean," said Watson, "that we hate, love, swear; we are good and we
+are evil; and we play games and go fishing."
+
+Geos rubbed his hands in a dignified sort of glee. What had been said
+coincided, apparently, with another of his pet theories.
+
+"It is splendid," he exulted, "splendid! And just in line with my
+thesis. You shall tell it before the Council of the Rhamdas. It will be
+the greatest day since the speaking of the Jarados!"
+
+Watson wondered just who this Jarados might be; but for the moment he
+went back to the previous question.
+
+"This Rhamda Avec: you were about to tell me about him. Let me have as
+much as I can understand, sir."
+
+"Ah, yes! The great Rhamda Avec. Perhaps you may recall him when your
+mind clears a little more. My dear sir, he is, or was, the chief of the
+Rhamdas of all the Thomahlia."
+
+"What is the 'Thomahlia'?"
+
+"The Thomahlia! Why, it is called the world; our name for the world.
+It comprises, physically, land, water and air; politically, it embraces
+D'Hartia, Kospia and a few minor nations."
+
+"Who are the Rhamdas?"
+
+"They are the heads of--of the Thomahlia; not the nominal nor
+political nor religious heads--they are neither judicial, executive nor
+legislative; but the real heads, still above. They might be called the
+supreme college of wisdom, of science and of research. Also, they are
+the keepers of the bell and its temple, and the interpreters of the
+Prophecy of the Jarados."
+
+"I see. You are a sort of priesthood."
+
+"No. The priesthood is below us. The priests take what orders we choose
+to give, and are purely--"
+
+"Superstitious?"
+
+The Rhamda's eyes snapped, just a trifle.
+
+"Not at all, my dear sir! They are good, sincere men. Only, not being
+intellectually adept enough to be admitted to the real secrets, the real
+knowledge, they give to all things a provisional explanation based upon
+a settled policy. Not being Rhamdas, they are simply not aware that
+everything has an exact and absolute explanation."
+
+"In other words," put in Watson, "they are scientists; they have not
+lifted themselves up to the plane of inquisitive doubt."
+
+Still the Rhamda shook his head.
+
+"Not quite that, either, my dear sir. Those below us are not ignorant;
+they are merely nearer to the level of the masses than we are. In fact,
+they are the people's rulers; these priests and other similar classes.
+But we, the Rhamdas, are the rulers of the rulers. We differ from them
+in that we have no material ends to subserve. Being at the top, with no
+motive save justice and advancement, our judgments are never questioned,
+and for the same reason, seldom passed.
+
+"But we are far above the plane of doubt that you speak of; we passed
+out of it long ago. That is the first stage of true science; afterwards
+comes the higher levels where all things have a reason; ethics,
+inspiration, thought, emotion--"
+
+"And--the judgment of the Jarados?"
+
+Watson could not have told why he said it. It was impulse, and the
+impromptu suggestion of a half-thought. But the effect of his words upon
+the Rhamda and the nurse told him that, inadvertently, he had struck a
+keynote. Both started, especially the woman. Watson took note of this
+in particular, because of the ingrained acceptance of the feminine in
+matter of belief.
+
+"What do you know?" was her eager interruption. "You have seen the
+Jarados?"
+
+As for the Rhamda, he looked at Watson with shrewd, calculating eyes.
+But they were still filled with wonder.
+
+"Can you tell us?" he asked. "Try and think!"
+
+Chick knew that he had gained a point. He had been dealt a trump
+card; but he was too clever to play it at once. He was on his own
+responsibility and was carrying a load that required the finest
+equilibrium.
+
+"I really do not know," he said. "I--I must have time to think. Coming
+across the border that way you must give me time. You were telling me
+about the Rhamdas in general; now tell me about Avec in particular."
+
+Geos nodded as though he could understand the fog that beclouded
+Watson's mind.
+
+"The Rhamda Avec is, or was, the wisest of them all; the head and the
+chief, and by far the most able. Few beside his own fellows knew it,
+however; another than he was the nominal head, and officiated for
+him whenever necessary. Avec had little social intercourse; he was a
+prodigious student.
+
+"We are a body of learned men, you understand, and we stand at the
+peak of all that has been discovered through hundreds upon hundreds
+of centuries, so that at the present day we are the culmination of the
+combined effort and thought of man since the beginning of time. Each
+generation of Rhamdas must be greater than the one preceding. When I die
+and pass on to your world I must leave something new and worth-while
+to my successor; some thought, wisdom, or deed that may be of use to
+mankind. I cannot be a Rhamda else. We are a set of supreme priests, who
+serve man at the shrine of intelligence, not of dogma.
+
+"Of course, we are not to be judged too highly. All research, when it
+steps forward must go haltingly; there are many paths into the unknown
+that look like the real one. Hence, we have among us various schools of
+thought, and each following a different trail.
+
+"I myself am a spiritist. I believe that we can, and often have,
+communicated with your world at various times. There are others who do
+not grant it; there are Rhamdas who are inclined to lean more to the
+materialist's side of things, who rely entirely, when it comes to
+questions of this kind, upon their faith in the teachings of the
+Jarados. There are some, too, who believe in the value of speculation,
+and who contend that only through contemplation can man lift himself to
+the full fruits of realisation. At the head of us all--the Rhamda Avec!"
+
+"What was his belief?"
+
+"Let us say he believed ALL. He was eclectic. He held that we were
+all of us a bit right, and each of us a whole lot wrong. It was his
+contention, however, that there was not one thing that could not be
+proven; that the secret of life, while undoubtedly a secret in every
+sense of the word, is still very concrete, it could be proven!"
+
+Watson nodded. He remembered hearing another man make just such a
+statement--Dr. Holcomb.
+
+"For years he worked in private," went on Geos. "We never knew just what
+he was doing; until, one day, he called us together and delivered his
+lecture."
+
+"His lecture?"
+
+"Rather, his prophecy. For it was all that. Not that he spoke at great
+length; it was but a talk. He announced that he believed the time had
+come to prove the occult. That it could be done, and done only through
+concrete, material means; and that whatever existed, certainly could be
+demonstrated. He was going to pull aside the curtain that had hitherto
+cut off the shadow.
+
+"'I am going to prove the occult,' he said. 'In three days I shall
+return with the fact and the substance. And then I propose to deliver my
+greatest lecture, my final thesis, in which my whole life shall come
+to a focus. I shall bring the proof for your eyes and ears, for your
+fingers to explore and be satisfied. You shall behold the living truth."
+
+"'And the subject of my lecture--the subject of my lecture will be The
+Spot of Life.'"
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+THROUGH UNKNOWN WATERS
+
+
+The SPOT of Life! And the subject of Dr. Holcomb's lecture, promised but
+never delivered, had been announced as--The Blind SPOT!
+
+To Watson it was fairly astounding to discover that the two--Holcomb
+and Avec--had reached simultaneously for the curtain of the shadow. The
+professor had said that it would be "the greatest day since Columbus."
+And so it had proven, did the world but know it.
+
+"And--the Rhamda Avec never returned?" asked Chick.
+
+"No."
+
+"But he sent back something within three days?" Watson was thinking,
+of course, of the doctor who had disappeared on the day which, Jerome
+overheard the Rhamda to say, was the last of his stay.
+
+But Geos did not reply. Why, Chick could not guess. He thought it best
+not to press the question; in good time, if he went at it carefully,
+he could gain his end with safety. At the moment he must not arouse
+suspicion. He chose another query.
+
+"Did Avec go alone?"
+
+"No. The Nervina went with him. Rather, she followed within a few
+hours."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+It was out before Watson could think. The Rhamda looked up suddenly.
+
+"Then you have seen the Nervina! You know her?"
+
+Chick lied. It was not his intention, just at present, to tie himself
+down to anything that might prove compromising or restraining.
+
+"The name is--familiar. Who is this Nervina?"
+
+"She is one of the queens. I thought--My dear sir, she is one of the
+queens of Thomahlia, half Kospian, half D'Hartian; of the first royal
+line running through from the day of the Jarados."
+
+Chick cogitated for a moment. Then, taking an entirely new tack:
+
+"You say the Rhamda and this Nervina, independently, solved the mystery
+of the Spot of Life, I believe you call it. And that Spot leads,
+apparently, into the occult?"
+
+"Apparently, if not positively. It was the wisdom of Avec, mostly. He
+had been in communication with your world by means of his own discovery
+and application. It was all in line with the prophecy.
+
+"Since he and the Nervina left, the people of the world have been in a
+state of ferment. For it was foretold that in the last days we would
+get in communication with the other side; that some would come and some
+would go. For example, your own coming was foretold by the Jarados,
+almost to the hour and minute."
+
+"Then it was fortuitous," spoke Watson. "It was NOT the wisdom and
+science of Avec, in my case."
+
+"Quite so. However, it is proof that the Rhamdas have fulfilled their
+duty. We knew of the Spot of Life, all the while; it was to be closed
+until we, through the effort of our intellect and virtues, could lift
+ourselves up to the plane of the world beyond us--your world. It could
+not be opened by ourselves alone, however. The Rhamda Avec had first
+to get in touch with your side, before he could apply the laws he had
+discovered."
+
+Somehow, Chick admired this Rhamda. Men of his type could form but one
+kind of priesthood: exalted, and devoted to the advance of intelligence.
+If Rhamda Avec were of the same sort, then he was a man to be looked up
+to, not to hate. As for the Jarados--Watson could not make out who he
+had been; a prophet or teacher, seemingly, looming out of the past and
+reverenced from antiquity.
+
+The Blind Spot became a shade less sinister. Already Watson had the
+Temple of the Leaf, or Bell, the Rhamdas and their philosophy, the great
+amber sun, the huge birds, the musical cadence of the perfumed air, and
+the counter-announcement of Rhamda Avec to weigh against the work and
+words of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The world of the Blind Spot!
+
+As if in reaction from the unaccustomed train of thought, Watson
+suddenly became conscious of extreme hunger. He gave an uneasy glance
+round, a glance which the Rhamda Geos smilingly interpreted. At a word
+the woman left the room and returned with a crimson garment, like a
+bath-robe. When Chick had donned it and a pair of silken slippers, Geos
+bade him follow.
+
+They stepped out into the corridor.
+
+This was formed and coloured much as the room they had quitted; and it
+led to another apartment, much larger--about fifty feet across--coloured
+a deep, cool green. Its ceiling, coved like the other, seemed made of
+some self-radiating substance from which came both light and heat. Four
+or five tables, looking like ebony work, were arranged along the side
+walls. When they were seated at one of these, the Rhamda placed his
+fingers on some round alna-white buttons ranged along the edge of the
+table.
+
+"In your world," he apologised, "our clumsy service would doubtless
+amuse you; but it is the best we have been able to devise so far."
+
+He pressed the button. Instantly, without the slightest sound or
+anything else to betray just how the thing had been accomplished,
+the table was covered with golden dishes, heaped with food, and two
+flagon-like goblets, full to the brim with a dark, greenish liquid that
+gave off an aroma almost exhilarating; not alcoholic, but something just
+above that. The Rhamda, disregarding or not noticing Watson's gasp
+of wonder, lifted his goblet in the manner of the host in health and
+welcome.
+
+"You may drink it," he offered, "without fear. It is not liquor--if I
+may use a word which I believe to be current in your world. I may add
+that it is one of the best things that we shall be able to offer you
+while you are with us."
+
+Indeed it wasn't liquor. Watson took a sip; and he made a mental note
+that if all things in the Thomahlia were on a par with this, then he
+certainly was in a world far above his own. For the one sip was enough
+to send a thrill through his veins, a thrill not unlike the ecstasy
+of supreme music--a sparkling exuberance, leaving the mind clear and
+scintillating, glorified to the quick thinking of genius.
+
+Later Watson experienced no reaction such as would have come from
+drinking alcohol or any other drug.
+
+It was the strangest meal ever eaten by Watson. The food was very
+savoury, and perfectly cooked and served. Only one dish reminded him of
+meat.
+
+"You have meats?" he asked. "This looks like flesh."
+
+Geos shook his head. "No. Do you have flesh to eat, on the other side?
+We make all our food."
+
+MAKE food. Watson thought best simply to answer the question:
+
+"As I remember it, Rhamda Geos, we had a sort of meat called beef--the
+flesh of certain animals."
+
+The Rhamda was intensely interested. "Are they large? Some interpret the
+Jarados to that effect. Tell me, are they like this?" And he pulled a
+silver whistle from his pocket and, placing it to his lips, blew two
+short, shrill notes.
+
+Immediately a peculiar patter sounded down the corridor; a ka-tuck,
+ka-tuck, ka-tuck, not unlike galloping hoof-beats. Before Watson could
+do any surmising a little bundle of shining black, rounded the entrance
+to the room and ran up to them. Geos picked it up.
+
+It was a horse. A horse, beautifully formed, perfect as an Arab, and not
+more than nine inches high!
+
+Now, Chick had been in the Blind Spot, conscious, but a short while. He
+knew that he was in the precise position that Rhamda Avec had occupied
+that morning on the ferry-boat. Chick recalled the pictures of the
+Lilliputian deer and the miniature kittens; yet he was immensely
+surprised.
+
+The little fellow began to neigh, a tiny, ridiculous sound as compared
+with the blast of a normal-sized horse, and began to paw for the edge of
+the table.
+
+"What does he want?"
+
+"A drink. They will do anything for it." Geos pressed a button, and in
+a moment he had another goblet. This he held before the little stallion,
+who thrust his head in above his nostrils and drank as greedily as a
+Percheron weighing a ton. Watson stroked his sides; the mane was like
+spun silk, he felt the legs symmetrical, perfectly shaped, not as large
+above the fetlocks as an ordinary pencil.
+
+"Are they all of this size?"
+
+"Yes; all of them. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because"--seeing no harm in telling this--"as I remember them, a horse
+on the other side would make a thousand of this one. People ride them."
+
+The Rhamda nodded.
+
+"So it is told in the books of Jarados. We had such beasts, once,
+ourselves. We would have them still, but for the brutality and stupidity
+of our ancestors. It is the one great sin of the Thomahlia. Once we had
+animals, great and small, and all the blessings of Nature; we had horses
+and, I think, what you call beef; a thousand other creatures that were
+food and help and companions to man. And for the good they had done our
+ancestors destroyed them!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It was neglect, unthinking and selfish. A time came when our
+civilisation made it possible to live without other creatures. When
+machinery came into vogue we put aside the animals as useless; those we
+had no further use for we denied the right to reproduce. The game of the
+forest was hunted down with powerful weapons of destruction; all went,
+in a century or two; everything that could be killed. And with them went
+the age of our highest art, that age of domesticated animals.
+
+"Our greatest paintings, our noblest sculpture, came from that age; all
+the priceless relics that we call classic. And in its stead we had the
+mechanical age. Man likewise became a mechanism, emotionless, with no
+taste for Nature. Meat was made synthetically, and so was milk."
+
+"You don't mean to say they did not preserve cows for the sake of their
+milk?"
+
+"No; that kind of milk became old-fashioned; men regarded it as
+unsanitary, fit only for the calves. What they wanted was something
+chemically pure; they waged war on bacteria, microbes, and Nature
+in general; a cow was merely a relic whose product was always an
+uncertainty. With no reason for the meat and no use for the milk, our
+vegetarians and our purists gradually eliminated them altogether. It
+was a strange age; utilitarian, scientific, selfish; it was then headed
+straight for destruction."
+
+And he went on to relate how men began to lose the power of emotion;
+there were no dependent beasts to leaven his nature with the salt of
+kindness; he thought only of his own aggrandisement. He became like his
+machine, a fine thing of perfectly correlated parts, but with no higher
+nature, no soul, no feeling; he was less than a brute. The animals
+disappeared one by one, passing through the channel of death, into the
+world beyond the Spot of Life, leaving behind only these tiny survivors,
+playthings, kept in existence longer than all others because of a mere
+fad.
+
+"Does your spiritism include animals as well as men?"
+
+"Naturally; everything that is endowed with life."
+
+"I see. Let me ask you: why didn't the Rhamdas interfere and put a stop
+to this wanton sacrilege against Nature?"
+
+The Rhamda smiled. "You forget," replied he, "that these events belong
+far in the past. At that time the Rhamdas were not. It was even before
+the coming of the Jarados."
+
+Watson asked no more questions for a while. He wanted to think. How
+could this man Rhamda Geos, if indeed he were a man, accept him, Watson,
+as a spirit? Solid flesh was not exactly in line with his idea of the
+unearthly. How to explain it? He had to go back to Holcomb again. The
+doctor had accepted without question Avec's naturalness, his body,
+his appetite. Reasonably enough, Geos, with some smattering of his
+superior's wisdom, should accept Watson in the same way.
+
+And then, the Jarados: at every moment his name had cropped up. Who was
+he? So far he had heard no word that might be construed as a clue.
+The great point, just now, was that the Rhamda Geos accepted him as a
+spirit, as the fact and substance promised by Avec. But--where was the
+doctor?
+
+Chick ventured this question:
+
+"My coming was foretold by the Rhamda Avec, I understand. Is this in
+accord with the words of the Jarados?"
+
+The Rhamda looked up expectantly and spoke with evident anxiety.
+
+"Can you tell me anything about the Jarados?"
+
+"Let us forgo that," side-stepped Watson. "Possibly I can tell you
+much that you would like to know. What I want to know is, just how well
+prepared you are to receive me?"
+
+"Then you come from the Jarados!"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"What do you know about him?"
+
+"This: someone should have preceded me! The fact and the substance-you
+were to have it inside three days! It has been several hundred times the
+space allotted! Is it not so?"
+
+The Rhamda's eyes were pin-pointed with eagerness.
+
+"Then it IS true! You are from the Jarados! You know the great Rhamda
+Avec--you have seen him!"
+
+"I have," declared Watson.
+
+"In the other world? You can remember?"
+
+"Yes," again committing himself. "I have seen Avec--in another world.
+But tell me, before we go on I would have an answer to my question: did
+anyone precede me?"
+
+"No."
+
+Watson was nonplussed, but he concealed the fact.
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite, my dear sir. The Spot of Life was watched continually from the
+moment the Rhamda left us."
+
+"You mean, he and the Nervina?"
+
+"Quite so; she followed him after an interval of a few hours."
+
+"I know. But you say that no one came out ahead of me. Who was it that
+guarded this--this Spot of Life? The Rhamdas?"
+
+"They and the Bars."
+
+"Ah! And who are the Bars?"
+
+"The military priesthood. They are the Mahovisal, and of the Temple of
+the Bell. They are led by the great Bar Senestro."
+
+"And there were times when these Bars, led by this Senestro, held guard
+over the Spot of Life?" To this Geos nodded; and Watson went on: "And
+who is this great Senestro?"
+
+"He is the chief of the Bars, and a prince of D'Hartia. He is the
+affianced of the two queens, the Aradna and the Nervina."
+
+"The TWO of them?"
+
+Whereupon Watson learned something rather peculiar. It seemed that the
+princes of D'Hartia had always married the queens. This Senestro had had
+a brother, but he died. And in such an event it was the iron custom
+that the surviving brother marry both queens. It had happened only once
+before in all history; but the precedent was unbreakable.
+
+"Then, there is nothing against it?"
+
+"Nothing; except, perhaps the prophecy of the Jarados. We now know--the
+whole world knows--that we are fast approaching the Day of Life."
+
+"Of course; the Day of Life." Watson decided upon another chance shot.
+"It has to do with the marriage of the two queens!"
+
+"You DO know!" cried the Rhamda joyously. "Tell me!"
+
+"No; it is I who am asking the questions."
+
+Watson's mind was working like lightning. Whether it was the influence
+of the strange drink, or the equally strange influence of ordinary
+inspiration, he was never more self-assured in his life. It seemed a day
+for taking long chances.
+
+"Tell me," he inquired, "what has the Day of Life to do with the two
+queens and their betrothal?"
+
+The Rhamda throttled his eagerness. "It is one of the obscure points of
+the prophecy. There are some scholars who hold that such a problem as
+this presages the coming of the end and the advent of the chosen. But
+others oppose this interpretation, for reasons purely material: for if
+the Bar Senestro should marry both queens it would make him the sole
+ruler of the Thomahlia. Only once before have we had a single ruler; for
+centuries upon centuries we have had two queens; one of the D'Hartians,
+and the other of the Kospians, enthroned here in the Mahovisal."
+
+Watson would have liked to learn far more. But the time seemed one for
+action on his part; bold action, and positive.
+
+"Rhamda Geos--I do not know what is your version of the prophecy. But
+you are positive that no one preceded me out of the Spot?"
+
+"I am. Why do you persist?"
+
+"Because"--speaking slowly and with the greatest care--"because there
+was one greater than I, who came before me!"
+
+The Rhamda rose excitedly to his feet, and then sank back into his chair
+again. In his eyes was nothing save eagerness, wonder and respect. He
+leaned forward.
+
+"Who was it? Who was he?"
+
+Watson's voice was steady as stone.
+
+"The great Jarados himself!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+A LONG WAY FROM SHORE
+
+
+Once more Watson had taken the kind of chance he preferred--a slender
+one. He took the chance that these people, however occult and advanced
+they might be, were still human enough to build their prophecy out of an
+old foundation. If he were right, then the person of the Jarados would
+be inviolable. If the professor were prisoner, held somewhere in secret,
+and it got noised about that he was the true prophet returned--it would
+not only give Holcomb immense prestige, but at the same time render the
+position of his captors untenable.
+
+Chick needed no great discernment to see that he had touched a vital
+spot. The philosophy of the Rhamdas was firmly bound up with spiritism;
+they had gone far in science, and had passed out of mere belief into
+the deeper, finer understanding that went behind the shadow for proof.
+Certainly Watson inwardly rejoiced to see Rhamda Geos incredulous,
+his keen face whitening like that of one who has just heard sacrilege
+uttered--to see Geos rise in his place, grip the table tightly, and hear
+him exclaim:
+
+"The Jarados! Did you say--the Jarados? He has come amongst us, and we
+have not known? You are perfectly sure of this?"
+
+"I am," stated Watson, and met the other's keen scrutiny without
+flinching.
+
+Would the game work? At least it promised action; and now that he had
+the old feeling of himself he was anxious to get under way. Any feeling
+of fear was gone now. He calmly nodded his head.
+
+"Yes, it is so. But sit down. I have still a bit more to tell you."
+
+The Rhamda resumed his seat. Clearly, his reverence had been greatly
+augmented in the past few seconds. From that time on there was a marked
+difference in his manner; and his speech, when he addressed Chick,
+contained the expression "my lord"--an expression that Watson found it
+easy enough to become accustomed to.
+
+"Did you doubt, Rhamda Geos, that I came from the Jarados?"
+
+"We did not doubt. We were certain."
+
+"I see. You were not expecting the Jarados."
+
+"Not yet, my lord. The coming of the Jarados shall be close to the Day
+of the Judgment. But it could not be so soon; there were to be signs and
+portents. We were to solve the problem first; we were to know the reason
+of the shadow and the why of the spirit. The wisdom of the Rhamda Avec
+told that the day approaches; he had opened the Spot of Life and gone
+through it; but he had NOT sent the fact and the substance." Watson
+smiled. There was just enough superstition, it seemed, beneath all the
+Rhamda's wisdom to make him tractable. However, Chick asked:
+
+"Tell me: as a learned man, as a Rhamda, do you believe in the prophecy
+implicitly?"
+
+"Yes, my lord. I am a spiritist; and if spiritism is truth, then the
+Jarados was genuine, and his prophecy is true. After all, my lord, it is
+not a case of legend, but of history. The Jarados came at a time of
+high civilisation, when men would see and understand him; he gave us his
+teaching in records, and imposed his laws upon the Thomahlia. Then he
+departed--through the Spot of Life."
+
+And the Rhamda Geos went on to say that the teachings of the Jarados had
+been moral as well as intellectual. Moreover, after he had formulated
+his laws, he wrote out his judgment.
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"An exhortation, my lord, that we were to give proof of our appreciation
+of intelligence. We were to use it, and to prove ourselves worthy of
+it by lifting ourselves up to the level of the Spot of Life. In other
+words, the spot would be opened when, and only when, we had learned the
+secrets of the occult, and--had opened the Spot ourselves!"
+
+Watson thought he understood partly. He asked:
+
+"And that is why you doubt me?"
+
+"You, my lord? Not so! You were found in the Temple of the Bell and
+Leaf; not on the Spot itself, to be sure, but on the floor of the
+temple. You were, both in your person and in your dress, of another
+world; you had been promised by the Rhamda Avec; and, in a sense, you
+were a part of the prophecy. We accepted you!"
+
+"But I speak your language. Account for that, Geos."
+
+"It need not be accounted for, my lord. We accept it as fact. The
+affinity of spirit would not be bound by the limitation of artificial
+speech. That you should talk the Thomahlia language is no more strange
+than that Rhamda Avec, when he passed into your world, should speak your
+tongue."
+
+"We call our language English," supplied Watson. "It is the tongue of
+the Jarados and of myself."
+
+"Tell me of the Jarados, my lord!" with renewed eagerness. "In the other
+world--what is he?"
+
+It was Chick's opportunity. By telling the simple truth about Dr.
+Holcomb he would enhance himself in the eyes of Rhamda Geas.
+
+"In the other world--we call it America--the Jaradas is a Rhamda much
+like yourself, the head and chief of many Rhamdas sitting in a great
+institution devoted to intelligence. It is called the University of
+California."
+
+"And this California; what is it, my lord?"
+
+"A name," returned Chick. "Immediately on the other side of the Spot is
+a region called California."
+
+"The promised land, my lord!"
+
+"The promised land indeed. There are some who call it paradise, even
+there." And for good measure he proceeded to tell much of his own land,
+of the woods, the rivers, the cities, animals, mountains, the sky, the
+moon, and the sun. When he came to the sun he explained that no man
+dared to look at it continuously with the bare eyes. Its great heat and
+splendour astounded Geos.
+
+Concerning himself he nonchalantly stated that he was the fiance of
+Holcomb's daughter; that is, son-in-law-to-be of the prophet Jarados;
+that he was sort of Junior Rhamda. He declared that he had come from
+the occult Rhamdas, through the other side of the Spot, in search of
+the Jarados who had gone before. As to his blankness up to now, and his
+perplexity--he was but a Junior; and the Spot had naturally benumbed his
+senses. Even now, he apologised, it was difficult to know and to recall
+everything clearly.
+
+Through it all the Rhamda Geos Listened in something like awe. He
+was hearing of wonders never before guessed in the Thomahlia. As the
+prospective son-in-law of the Jarados, Watson automatically lifted
+himself to a supreme height, so great that, could he only hold himself
+up to it, he would have a prestige second only to that of the prophet
+himself.
+
+All of a sudden he thought of a question. It gripped him with dread,
+the dread of the unknown. The question was one of TIME. "How long have I
+been here, Rhamda Geos?"
+
+"Over eleven months, by our system of reckoning. You were found on the
+floor of the temple three hundred and fifty-seven days ago; you were
+in a lifeless condition; you must have been there some hours, my lord,
+before we discovered you."
+
+"Eleven months!" It had seemed but that many minutes. "And I was
+unconscious--"
+
+"All the time, my lord. Had we caught you immediately upon your
+coming, we could have brought you around within three days, but in the
+circumstances it was impossible to restore you before we did. You have
+been under the care of the greatest specialists in all Thomahlia."
+
+Geos himself had been one of these. "The council of Rhamdas went into
+special session, my lord, immediately after your materialisation, and
+has been sitting almost continually since. And now that you are revived,
+they are waiting in person for you to show yourself.
+
+"They accept you. They do not know who you are, my lord; none of us has
+guessed even a part of the truth. The entire council awaits!"
+
+But Chick wanted more. Besides, he looked at his clothing.
+
+"I would have my own garments, Geos; also, whatever else was found on my
+person."
+
+For Watson was thinking of a small but powerful pistol, an automatic,
+that he had carried on the night when he fell through the Blind Spot.
+This question of materiality was still a puzzle; if he himself had
+survived there was a chance that the firearm had done the same. It might
+and it might not preclude the occult. Anyway, he treasured the thought
+of that automatic; with it in his possession he would not be bare-handed
+in case of emergency.
+
+They returned to the room in which Chick had awakened. The Rhamda left
+him. A few moments later he came back with a squad of men. Chick noted
+their discipline, movement, and uniforms, and classed them as soldiers.
+Two men were stationed outside the door--one, a stout, dark individual
+in a blue uniform; and the other a lithe, athletic chap, blond and
+blue-eyed, wearing a bright crimson dress. Chick instinctively preferred
+both man and garb in crimson; there was a touch of honour, of lightness
+and strength that just suited him. The other was dark, heavy and
+sinister.
+
+Both wore sandals, and upon their heads curious shakos, made of the
+finest down, not fur. Both displayed a heavy silken braid looped from
+one shoulder. Each carried a spear-like weapon, of some shining black
+material, straight-tapered to a needle-point; but no other arms.
+
+Watson pointed to the two uniforms.
+
+"What is the significance, Geos?"
+
+"One is from the queen, my lord; the other from Bar Senestro. The blue
+is the cloth of the Bars; the red, that of the queens. The Bar and the
+queen send this bodyguard with their respective compliments."
+
+Chick took the bundle that Geos had brought, and proceeded to don his
+own clothes, finding deep satisfaction in the fact that they had arrived
+as intact as he. He felt carefully in his hip pocket; the automatic
+was still there, likewise the extra magazine of cartridges that he had
+carried about with him on that night.
+
+In his other pockets he found two packets of cigarettes, a pouch of
+tobacco, some papers, a few coins, a little money and two photographs,
+one of Bertha and the other of her father. Not a thing had been
+disturbed.
+
+He announced himself ready.
+
+The Rhamda conducted him down the corridor, which he found to be lined
+with guards; red on one side, blue on the other. These men fell in
+behind in two parallel files, one of the one colour and one of the
+other.
+
+It was a building of great size. The corridors were long and high, all
+with the wide-coved ceiling, and of colours that melted from one shade
+to another as they turned, not corners, but curves. Apparently each
+colour had its own suggestive reason. Such rooms as Chick could look
+into were uniformly large, beautiful, and distinctly lighted.
+
+The guard moved in silent rhythm; the chief sound was that made by
+Watson's leather-heeled shoes, drowning out, for once, the everlasting
+tinkling undertone of those unseen fairy-bells; that running cadence,
+never ceasing, silver, liquid, like the soul of sound.
+
+Though Watson walked with head erect, he had eyes for every little thing
+he passed. He noted the material of the structure and tried to name it;
+neither plaster nor stone, the walls were highly polished and, somehow
+or other, capable of emitting perfume--light and wholesome, not heavy
+and oppressive. And in dark passages the walls glowed.
+
+The corridor widened, and with a graceful curve opened upon a wide
+stairway that descended, or rather sank--to use Watson's own words
+for the feeling--into the depths of the building. To the right of one
+landing was a large window reaching to the floor; its panes were clear
+and not frosted as had been the others.
+
+Chick got his first glimpse here of what lay outside--an iridescent
+landscape, at first view astonishingly like an ocean of opals; for it
+was of many hues, red and purple and milky white, splashed violantin
+blue and fluorescence--a maze and shimmer of dancing, joyful colours,
+whirring in an uncertainty of polychromatic harmony. Such was his first
+fleeting impression.
+
+At the next landing he looked closer. It was not unlike a monster
+bowl of bubbles; the same illusion of movement, the same delicacy
+and witchery of colour, only here the sensation was not that of
+decomposition but of life; of flowers, delicate as the rainbow, tenuous,
+sinuous, breathing--weaving in a serpentine maze of daedalian hues; long
+tendrils of orchidian beauty, lifting, weaving, drooping--a vast sea of
+equatorial bloom; but--no trees.
+
+"This is our landscape," spoke the Rhamda. "According to the Jarados, it
+is not like that of the next world--your world, my lord. After you meet
+the Rhamdas, I shall take you into the Mahovisal for a closer view of it
+all."
+
+They reached the bottom of the stairway. Chick noted the architecture in
+the entrance-way at this point; the seeming solidness of structure, as
+if the whole had been chiselled, not built. The vestibule was really
+a hall, domed and high, large enough to shelter a hundred. Like the
+corridor outside Chick's room, it was lined with a row each of red and
+blue uniformed guards.
+
+Invariably the one belonged to the blond, lithe, quick-feeling type,
+the others heavy, sturdy, formidable. The extremities of the two lines
+converged on an oval-topped doorway, very large, having above it a
+design conventionalised from the three-leafed clover. One leaf was
+scarlet, one blue, the other green.
+
+The door opened. The guards halted. Geos stepped aside with a bow, and
+Watson strode forward into the presence of the Council of the Rhamdas.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+THE BAR SENESTRO
+
+
+It was a critical moment for Chick. Out of the impulse of his inner
+nature he had chosen the odds that he must now uphold against the
+combined wisdom of these intellectuals. He was alone, with no one
+to guide him save Geos, who undoubtedly was his friend, but who as
+undoubtedly would desert him upon the slightest inkling of imposture.
+
+He found himself in a great, round room, or rather an oval one, domed at
+the top but tinted in a far more beautiful colouring--lazuli blue. The
+walls were cut by long, narrow windows reaching far up into the sweep
+where the side melted into the ceiling. The material of the windows was
+of the same translucent substance already noted, but slightly tinged
+with green, so that they shed a soft light, cooled and quiet, over the
+whole assembly.
+
+On the wall opposite the doorway was a large replica of the clover-leaf
+design outside, even more gem-like in brilliance; its three colours
+woven into a trinity almost of flame. Whether the light was artificial
+or intrinsic, Chick could not say. The floor of the place accommodated
+some three hundred tables, of the library type, and the same number
+of men bearing the distinguished stamp of the Rhamda. All were
+smooth-shaven, comparatively tall, and possessing the same aesthetic
+manner which impressed one with the notion of inherited, inherent
+culture. The entire hall had the atmosphere of learning, justice and the
+supreme tribunal.
+
+For a moment Watson felt weak and uncertain. He could hold up against
+Geos and Avec, but in the face of such an array he wasn't so sure. There
+was but one thing to encourage him; the faces into which he looked. All
+were full of wonder and reverence.
+
+Then he looked about him more carefully. He had come out upon a wide
+platform, or rostrum. He now noticed that he was flanked on either side
+by thrones--two of them; they seemed made of golden amber. The one on
+the right was occupied by a man, the other by a woman. In the pause that
+was vouchsafed him Chick took note of these two, and wondered.
+
+In the first place, the man was not a Rhamda. The jewelled semi-armour
+that he wore was more significant than the dignified garb of the
+Intellectuals; at the same time, his accoutrements cheapened him, by
+contrast. He was executive, princely, with the bearing that comes of
+worldly ambitions and attainments; a man strangely handsome, vital,
+athletic; curling hair, dark, quick eyes and even features; except
+only for the mouth he might have been taken as a model of the Greek
+Alexander.
+
+The clothes he wore were classic, as was everything else about him, even
+to his sandals, his bare arms and his jewelled breastplate.
+
+Watson had studied history. He had a quick impression of a composite--of
+genius, cruelty and sensuality. Here was one with three strong natures,
+a sort of Nero, Caligula and Alexander combined: the sensuality of the
+first, the cruelty of the second, and the instinctive fire and greatness
+of the immortal Macedonian. The man was smiling; not an amused smile,
+but one of interest, humorous tolerance.
+
+When their eyes met, Chick caught the magnetic current of personality,
+the same sense of illusiveness that he and Harry Wendel had noted in
+the Nervina; only here it was negative, resisting instead of aiding.
+A number of the blue guard surrounded the throne, their faces dark,
+strong, and of unconquerable resolution, though slow to think.
+
+On the other throne was a girl. Chick had heard enough from the Geos to
+guess her identity: one of the queens, the Aradna; frail, delicate, a
+blue-eyed maiden, with a waving mass of straw-gold hair hanging loosely
+about her shoulders. She too was classically attired, although there
+were touches of modernity here and there in the arrangement of ribbons;
+the garment matched her guards' crimson, and was draped about her
+shoulders so as to leave one bare, together with that arm. Across her
+forehead was a band of dark-blue gems, and she wore no other jewels.
+
+She was not more than seventeen or eighteen, with eyes like bluebells,
+lips as red as poppies, features that danced with delight and laughter
+and all the innocence that one would associate with elfin royalty.
+Instinctively Chick compared her with the Nervina.
+
+The senior queen had the subtle magnetism, the uncountable fascination,
+the poise and decision that held and dictated all things to her fancy.
+
+Not so the Aradna. Hers was the strength of simplicity, the frank, open
+delight of the maiden, and at the same time all the charm and suggestion
+of coming womanhood. When she caught Watson's eye she smiled; a smile
+free and unrestrained, out of an open, happy heart. She made a remark
+to one of her guards, who nodded a reply after the manner of a friend,
+rather than a courtier.
+
+Watson turned to the Geos, who stood somewhat to one side, and a little
+to the rear.
+
+"The Aradna?"
+
+"Yes. The queen of D'Hartia. The man on the other side is the Bar
+Senestro."
+
+Whatever feeling Chick entertained for the one was offset by what he
+felt for the other. He was between two forces; his instinct warned him
+of the Bar, sceptical, powerful, ruthless, a man to be reckoned with;
+but his better nature went out to the young queen.
+
+At a motion from Geos, the whole assembly of Rhamdas stood up. The
+action was both dignified and reverent. Though Chick was, in their eyes,
+a miracle, there was no unseemly staring nor jarring of curiosity; all
+was quietness, ease, poise; the only sound was that of the constant
+subtle music of those invisible bells.
+
+Rhamda Geos began speaking. At the same time he placed a friendly hand
+on Watson's shoulder, a signal for every other Rhamda to resume his
+seat.
+
+"The Fact and the Substance, my brothers."
+
+Geos paused as he made use of the ultra-significant phrase. And then,
+in a few rapid sentences, he ran over the synopsis of that affair,
+beginning with some philosophy and other details that Watson could only
+half understand, making frequent allusions to the Jarados and other
+writers of prophecy; then he made some mention of his own particular
+brand of spiritism and its stand on materialisation. This he followed
+with an account of the finding of Watson in the temple, his long sleep
+and ultimate reviving. At greater length he repeated the gist of their
+conversation.
+
+Not until then was there a stir among the Rhamdas. Chick glanced over at
+the Aradna. She was listening eagerly, her chin cupped in her hand,
+her blue eyes full of interest and wonder, and natural, unfeigned,
+child-like delight.
+
+Then the Bar caught Chick's glance; the newcomer felt the cold chill of
+calculation, the cynical weight of the sceptic, and a queer foreboding
+of the future; no light glance, but one like fire and ice and iron.
+He wondered at the man's beauty and genius, and at his emotional
+preponderance manifest even here before the Rhamdas.
+
+The Geos went on. His words, now, were simple and direct. Watson felt
+himself almost deified by that reverent manner. The Rhamdas listened
+with visibly growing interest; the Aradna leaned slightly forward; even
+the Bar dropped his interest in Watson to pay closer attention to the
+speaker. For Geos had come to the Jarados; he was an orator as well as
+a mystic, and he was advancing Chick's words with all the skill of a
+master of language, ascending effect--climax--the Jarados had come among
+them, and--They had missed him!
+
+For a moment there was silence, then a rustle of general comment. Chick
+watched the Rhamdas, leaning over to whisper to each other. Could he
+stand up against them?
+
+But none of them spoke. After the first murmur of comment they lapsed
+into silence again. It was the Bar Senestro who broke the tension.
+
+"May I ask, Rhamda Geos, why you make such an assertion? What proof have
+you, to begin with, that this man," indicating Watson with a nod, "is
+not merely one of ourselves: a D'Hartian or a Kospian?"
+
+The Geos replied instantly: "You know the manner of his discovery, Bar
+Senestro. Have you not eyes?" Geos seemed to think he had said the last
+word.
+
+"Surely," rejoined the Bar good-humouredly. "I have very good eyes,
+Rhamda Geos. Likewise I have a mind to reason with; but my imagination,
+I fear, is defective. What I behold is just such a creature as myself;
+not otherwise. How hold you that this one is proof out of the occult?"
+
+"You are sceptical," returned the Rhamda, evenly. "Even as you behold
+him, you are full of doubt. But do you not recall the words of the great
+Avec? Do you not know the Prophecy of the Jarados?"
+
+"Truly, Geos; I remember them both. Especially the writing on the wall
+of the temple. Does not the prophet himself say: 'And behold, in the
+last days there shall come among ye--the false ones. Them ye shall
+slay'?"
+
+"All very true, Bar Senestro. But you well know--we all know--that the
+true prophecy was to be fulfilled when the Spot was opened. Did not the
+fulfilment begin when the Avec and the Nervina passed through to the
+other side?"
+
+"The fulfilment, Geos? Perhaps it was the sign of the coming of
+impostors! The end may not be until ALL the conditions are complied
+with!"
+
+But at this moment Aradna saw fit to speak.
+
+"Senestro, would you condemn this one without allowing him a word in his
+own defence? Is it fair? Besides, he does not look like an impostor to
+me. I like his face. Perhaps he is one of the chosen!"
+
+At the last word the Bar frowned. His glance shifted suddenly to Watson,
+a swift look of ice-cold calculation.
+
+"Very, very true, O Aradna. I, too, would have him speak in his own
+behalf. Let him amuse us with his tongue. What would your majesty care
+to hear, O Aradna, from this phantom?"
+
+The words were of biting satire. Chick wheeled upon the Bar. Their eyes
+clashed; an encounter not altogether to Watson's credit. He was a bit
+unsteady, a trifle uncertain of his power. He had calculated on the
+superstition of the Rhamdas to hold him up until he caught his footing,
+and this unexpected scepticism was disconcerting. However, he was no
+coward; the feeling passed away almost at once. He strode straight up to
+the throne of the Bar; and once more he spoke from sheer impulse:
+
+"The Aradna has spoken true, O Senestro, or sinister, or whatever you
+may be called. I demand fair hearing! It is my due; for I have come from
+another world. I follow--the Jarados!"
+
+If Watson had supposed that he had taken the Bar's measure, he was
+mistaken. The prince's eyes suddenly glinted with a fierce pleasure.
+Like a flash his antagonism shifted to something astonishingly like
+admiration.
+
+"Well spoken! Incidentally, you are well made and sound looking,
+stranger."
+
+"Passably," replied Watson. "I do not care to discuss my appearance,
+however. I am certainly no more ill-favoured than some others."
+
+"And impertinent," continued the other, quite without malice. "Do you
+know anything about the Bar, to whom you speak so saucily?"
+
+"I know that you have intimated that I may be an impostor. You have done
+this, after hearing what the learned Rhamda Geos has said. You know the
+facts; you know that I have come from the Jarados. I--"
+
+But it wasn't Watson's words that held the Bar's attention. Chick's
+straight, well-knit form, his quick-trained actions, overbalanced
+the question of the prophet in the mind of the man on the throne. His
+delight was self-evident.
+
+"Truly you are soundly built, stranger; you are made of iron and
+whipcord, finely formed, quick and alert." He threw a word to one of his
+heavy-faced attendants, then suddenly stood up and descended from his
+throne. He came up and stood beside Watson.
+
+Chick straightened. The prince was an inch the taller; his bare arms
+long-muscled, lithe, powerful; under the pink skin Chick could see the
+delicate, cat-like play of strength and vitality. He sensed the strength
+of the man, his quick, eager, instinctive glance, his panther-like step
+and certainty of graceful movement.
+
+"Stranger," spoke the Bar, "indeed you ARE an athlete! What is your
+nationality--Kospian?"
+
+"Neither Kospian nor D'Hartian; I am an American. True, there are some
+who have said that I am built like a man; I pride myself that I can
+conduct myself like one."
+
+"And speak impertinently." Still in the best of humour, the prince
+coolly reached out and felt Watson's biceps. His eyes became still
+brighter. If not an admirer of decorum, he could appreciate firm flesh.
+"Sirra! You ARE strong! Answer me--do you know anything about games of
+violence?"
+
+"Several. Anything you choose."
+
+But the prince shook his head. "Not so. I claim no unfair advantage; you
+are well met, and opportune. Let it be a contest of your own choosing.
+The greater honour to myself, the victor!"
+
+But the little queen saw fit to interfere.
+
+"Senestro, is this the code of the Bar? Is not your proposal unseemly to
+so great a guest? Restrain your eagerness for strength and for muscle!
+You have preferred charges against this man; now you would hurl your
+body as well. Remember, I am the queen; I can command it of you."
+
+The Senestro bowed.
+
+"Your wishes are my law, O Aradna." Then, turning to Watson: "I am
+over-eager, stranger. You are the best-built man I have seen for many
+a circle. But I shall best you." He paced to his throne and resumed his
+seat. "Let him tell us his tale. I repeat, Geos, that for all his beauty
+this one is an impostor. When he has spoken I shall confute him. I ask
+only that in the end he be turned over to me."
+
+It was plain that the Thomahlia was blest with odd rulers. If the Bar
+Senestro was a priest, he was clearly still more of a soldier. The fiery
+challenge of the man struck an answering chord in Watson; he knew the
+time must come when he should weigh himself up against this Alexander,
+and it was anything but displeasing to him.
+
+"What must I say and do?" he asked the Rhamda Geos. "What do they want
+me to tell them?"
+
+"Just what you have told me: tell them of the Nervina, and of the Rhamda
+Avec. The prince is a man of the world, but from the Rhamdas you will
+have justice."
+
+Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals. They seemed accustomed to the
+outbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting complacently. In
+a few words Watson described the Nervina and Avec; their appearance,
+manners--everything. Fortunately he did not have to dissemble. When he
+had finished there was a faint murmur of approval.
+
+"It is proven," declared the girl queen. "It is truly my cousin, the
+Nervina. I knew not the Rhamda, but from your faces it must have been
+he, Senestro, what say you to this?"
+
+But the Bar was totally unconvinced.
+
+"All this is childish. Did I not say he is of our world--D'Hartian or
+Kospian, or some other? Does not all Thomahlia know of the Nervina? Few
+have seen the Rhamda Avec, but what of it? Some have. What this stranger
+says proves nothing at all. I say, give him a test."
+
+"The test?" from Geos, in a hushed tone.
+
+"Just that. There is none who knows the likeness of the Jarados; none
+but the absent Avec. None among us has ever seen his image. It is a
+secret to all save the High Rhamda. Yet, in cases like this, well may
+the Leaf be opened."
+
+Watson, wondering what was meant, listened closely to the prince as he
+continued: "It is written that there are times when all may see. Surely
+this is such a time.
+
+"Now let this stranger describe the Jarados. He says that he had seen
+him; that he is the Prophet's prospective son-in-law. Good! Let him
+describe the Jarados to us!
+
+"Then open the Leaf! If he speaks true, we shall know him to be from the
+Jarados. If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes of my own."
+
+Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of quick
+decision. Watson knew that the moment had come to test his luck to the
+uttermost. There was but one thing to do; he did it. He said to the
+Rhamda Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference:
+
+"I am willing."
+
+Geos was distinctively relieved, "It is good, my lord. Tell us in simple
+words. Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just as you would
+have us see him. Afterwards we shall open the Leaf." And in a lower
+tone: "If you speak accurately I shall be vindicated, my lord. I doubt
+not that you are a better man than the prince; but place your reliance
+in the Truth; it will be one more proof of the occult, and of the Day
+approaching."
+
+Which is all that Watson told. But first he breathed a prayer to One who
+is above all things occult or physical. He did not understand where he
+was nor how he had got there; he only knew that his fate was hanging on
+a toss of chance.
+
+He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes and
+speaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he recalled of
+the old professor. He tried to describe him just as he had appeared that
+day in the ethics class, when he made the great announcement; the trim,
+stubby figure of Professor Holcomb, the pink, healthy skin, the wise,
+grey, kindly eyes, and the close-cropped, pure white beard: all, just as
+Chick had known him. One chance in millions; he took it.
+
+"That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise, BEARDED
+man."
+
+There was not a breath or a murmur in comment. All hung upon his words;
+there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking, only the throb
+of his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution in his veins. He had
+spoken. If only there might be a resemblance!
+
+The Geos stepped forward a pace. "It is well said. If the truth has been
+spoken, there shall be room for no dispute. It shall be known throughout
+all Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has spoken. Let the Leaf be
+opened!"
+
+Chick never knew just what happened, much less how it was accomplished.
+He knew only that a black, opaque wave ran up the long windows, shutting
+off the light, so that instantly the darkness of night enveloped
+everything, blotting out all that maze of colour; it was the blackness
+of the void. Then came a tiny light, a mere dot of flame, over on the
+opposite wall; a pin-point of light it was, seemingly coming out of
+a vast distance like an approaching star, growing gradually larger,
+spreading out into a screen of radiance that presently was flashing
+with intrinsic life. The corruscation grew brighter; little tufts of
+brilliance shot out with all the stabbing suddenness of shooting stars.
+To Chick it was exactly as though some god were pushing his way through
+and out of fire. In the end the flame burst asunder, diminished into a
+receding circle and sputtered out.
+
+And in the place of the strange light there appeared the illuminated
+figure of a man. Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his eyes and looked
+again.
+
+It was the bust of Professor Holcomb.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR
+
+
+Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage--Rhamdas, guards, the occupants
+of the two thrones--he himself was the most astounded. Was the great
+professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not, how explain this
+miracle? But if he were, how to explain the duality, the identity?
+Surely, it could not be sheer chance!
+
+Fortunately for Chick, it was dark. All eyes were fixed on the trim
+figure which occupied the space of the clover-leaf on the rear wall.
+Except for Chick's strangled gasp, there was only the hushed silence of
+reverence, deep and impressive.
+
+Then another dot appeared. From its position, Watson took it to come
+from another leaf of the clover; another light approaching out of the
+void and cutting through the blackness exactly as the first had come.
+It grew and spread until it had filled the whole leaf; then, again
+the bursting of the flare, the diminishing of the light, and its
+disappearance in a thin rim at the edge. And this time there was
+revealed--
+
+A handsome brown-haired DOG.
+
+Watson of course, could not understand. The silence held; he could feel
+the Rhamda Geos at his side, and hear him murmur something which, in
+itself, was quite unintelligible:
+
+"The four-footed one! The call to humility, sacrifice, and
+unselfishness! The four-footed one!"
+
+That was all. It was a shaggy shepherd dog, with a pointed nose and one
+ear cocked up and the other down, very wisely inquisitive. Chick had
+seen similar dogs many times, but he could not account for this one;
+certainly not in such a place. What had it to do with the Jarados?
+
+Still the darkness. It gave him a chance to think. He wondered, rapidly,
+how he could link up such a creature with his description of the
+Jarados. What could be the purpose of a canine in occult philosophy? Or,
+was the whole thing, after all, mere blundering chance?
+
+This is what bothered Chick. He did not know how to adjust himself;
+life, place, sequence, were all out of order. Until he could gather
+exact data, he must trust to intuition as before.
+
+The two pictures vanished simultaneously. Down came the black waves from
+the windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was once more flooded
+with that mellow radiance. The Rhamda Geos stepped forward as a murmur
+of awed approval arose from the assembly. There was no applause. One
+does not applaud the miraculous. The Geos took his hand.
+
+"It is proven!" he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: "Is there any
+question, my brothers?"
+
+But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had triumphed
+over all else. The men of learning turned none but reverent faces toward
+Watson.
+
+He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph he
+was apprehensive of the princes's keen genius. An agnostic is seldom
+converted by what could be explained away as mere coincidence. Moreover,
+as it ultimately appeared, the Bar now had more than one reason for
+antagonising the man who claimed to be the professor's prospective
+son-in-law.
+
+"Is there any question?" repeated Rhamda Geos.
+
+But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was standing
+before her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin revealed the
+tender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close scrutiny, and then
+addressed the Geos:
+
+"I want to put one question, Rhamda. The stranger seems to be a goodly
+young man. He has come from the Jarados. Tell me, is he truly of the
+chosen?"
+
+But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted the
+answer. The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking laughter.
+
+"The chosen, O Aradna? The chosen? Do not allow yourself to be tricked
+by a little thing! I myself have been chosen by the inherited law of the
+Thomahlia!" Then to Chick: "I see, Sir Phantom, that our futures are to
+be intertwined with interest!"
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"No? Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I shall
+teach you the value of materiality. You are well made and handsome,
+likewise courageous. May the time soon come when you can put your mettle
+to the test in a fair conflict!"
+
+"It is your own saying, O Senestro!" warned Geos. "You must abide by my
+Lord's reply."
+
+"True; and I shall abide. I know nothing of black magic, or any other.
+But I care not. I know only that I cannot accept this stranger as a
+spirit. I have felt his muscles, and I know his strength; they are a
+man's, and a Thomahlian's."
+
+"Then you do not abide?"
+
+"Yes, I do. That is, I do not claim him. He has won his freedom. But
+as for endorsing him--no, not until he has given further proof. Let him
+come to the Spot of Life. Let him take the ordeal. Let him qualify on
+the Day of the Prophet."
+
+"My lord, do you accept?"
+
+Watson had no idea what the "ordeal" might be, nor what might be the
+significance of the day. But he could not very well refuse. He spoke as
+lightly as he could.
+
+"Of course. I accept anything." Then, addressing the prince: "One word,
+O Senestro."
+
+"Speak up, Sir Phantom!"
+
+"Bar Senestro--what have you done with the Jarados?"
+
+An instant's stunned silence greeted this stab. It was broken by the
+prince.
+
+"The Jarados!" His voice was unruffled. "What know I of the Jarados?"
+
+"Take care! You have seen him--you know his power!"
+
+"You have a courageous sort of impertinence!"
+
+"I have determination and knowledge! Bar Senestro, I have come for the
+Jarados!" Chick paused for effect. "Now what think you? Am I of the
+chosen?"
+
+He had meant it as a deliberate taunt, and so it was taken. The Bar shot
+to his feet. Not that he was angered; his straight, handsome form was
+kingly, and for all his impulsiveness there was a certain real majesty
+about his every pose.
+
+"You are of the chosen. It is well; you have given spice to the taunt!
+I would not have it otherwise. Forget not your courage on the Day of the
+Prophet!"
+
+With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneath
+his throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to the
+assembly--and was gone. The blue guard followed in silence.
+
+The rest of the ordeal was soon done. Nothing more was said about the
+Jarados, nor of what the Bar Senestro had brought up. There were a few
+questions about the world he had quit, questions which put no strain
+upon his imagination to answer. He was out of the deep water for the
+present.
+
+When the assembly dissolved Chick was conducted back to the apartments
+upstairs. Not to his old room, however, but to an adjoining suite, a
+magnificent place--that would have done honour to a prince. But Chick
+scarcely noted the beauty of the place. His attention flew at once to
+something for which he longed--an immense globe.
+
+Chick spun it around eagerly upon its axis. The first thing that he
+looked for was San Francisco--or, rather, North America. If he was on
+the earth he wanted to know it! Surely the oceans and continents would
+not change.
+
+But he was doomed to disappointment. There was not a familiar detail.
+Outside of a network of curved lines indicating latitude and longitude,
+and the accustomed tilt of the polar axis, the globe was totally
+strange! So strange that Chick could not decide which was water and
+which land.
+
+After a bit of puzzling Chick ran across a yellow patch marked with
+some strange characters which, upon examination, were translated in some
+unknown manner within his subconscious mind, to "D'Hartia." Another was
+lettered "Kospia."
+
+Assuming that these were land--and there were a few other, smaller ones,
+of the same shade--then the land area covered approximately three-fifths
+of the globe. Inferentially the green remainder, or two-fifths, was the
+water or ocean covered area. Such a proportion was nearly the precise
+reverse of that obtaining on the earth. Chick puzzled over other strange
+names--H'Alara, Mal Somnal, Bloudou San, and the like. Not one name or
+outline that he could place!
+
+How could he make his discovery fit with the words of Dr. Holcomb, and
+with what philosophy he knew? Somehow there was too much life, too much
+reality, to fit in with any spiritistic hypothesis. He was surrounded by
+real matter, atomic, molecular, cellular. He was certain that if he were
+put to it he could prove right here every law from those put forth by
+Newton to the present.
+
+It was still the material universe; that was certain. Therefor it was
+equally certain that the doctor had made a most prodigious discovery.
+But--what was it? What was the law that had fallen out of the Blind
+Spot?
+
+He gave it up, and stepped to one of the suite's numerous windows.
+They were all provided with clear glass. Now was his opportunity for an
+uninterrupted, leisurely survey of the world about him.
+
+As before, he noted the maze of splendid, dazzling opalescence, all the
+colours of the spectrum blending, weaving, vibrant, like a vast plain
+of smooth, Gargantuan jewels. Then he made out innumerable round domes,
+spread out in rows and in curves, without seeming order or system;
+BUILDINGS, every roof a perfect gleaming dome, its surface fairly alive
+with the reflected light of that amazing sun. Of such was the landscape
+made.
+
+As before, he could hear the incessant undertone of vague music, of
+rhythmical, shimmering and whispering sound. And the whole air was laden
+with the hint of sweet scents; tinged with the perfume of attar and
+myrrh--of a most delicate ambrosia.
+
+He opened the window.
+
+For a moment he stood still, the air bathing his face, the unknown
+fragrance filling his nostrils. The whole world seemed thrumming with
+that hitherto faint quiver of sound. Now it was resonant and strong,
+though still only an undertone. He looked below him; as he did so,
+something dropped from the side of the window opening--a long, delicate
+tendril, sinuous and alive. It touched his face, and then--It drooped,
+drooped like a wounded thing. He reached out his hand and plucked it,
+wondering. And he found, at its tip, a floating crimson blossom as
+delicate as the frailest cobweb, so inconceivably delicate that it
+wilted and crumbled at the slightest touch.
+
+Chick thrust his head out of the window. The whole building, from ground
+to dome, was covered--waving, moving, tenuous, a maze of colour--with
+orchids!
+
+He had never dreamed of anything so beautiful, or so splendid.
+Everywhere these orchids; to give them the name nearest to the unknown
+one. As far as he could see, living beauty!
+
+And then he noticed something stranger still.
+
+From the petals and the foliage about him, little clouds of colour
+wafted up, like mists of perfume, forever rising and intermittently
+settling. It was mysteriously harmonious, continuous--like life itself.
+Chick looked closer, and listened. And then he knew.
+
+These mists were clouds of tiny, multi-coloured insects.
+
+He looked down farther, into the streets. They were teeming with life,
+with motion. He was in a city whose size made it a true metropolis.
+All the buildings were large, and, although of unfamiliar architecture,
+undeniably of a refined, advanced art. Without exception, their roofs
+were domed. Hence the effect of a sea of bubbles.
+
+Directly below, straight down from his window, was a very broad street.
+From it at varying angles ran a number of intersecting avenues. The
+height of his window was great--he looked very closely, and made out
+two lines of colour lining and outlining the street surrounding the
+apartments.
+
+On the one side the line was blue, on the other crimson; they were
+guards. And where the various avenues intersected cables must have
+been stretched; for these streets were packed and jammed with a surging
+multitude, which the guards seemed engaged in holding back. As far up
+the avenues as Chick could see, the seething mass of fellow creatures
+extended, a gently pulsing vari-coloured potential commotion.
+
+As he looked one of the packed streets broke into confusion. He could
+see the guards wheeling and running into formation; from behind, other
+platoons rushed up reinforcements. The great crowd was rolling forward,
+breaking on the edge of the spear-armed guards like the surf of a
+rolling sea.
+
+Chick had a sudden thought. Were they not looking up at his window? He
+could glimpse arms uplifted and hands pointed. Even the guards, those
+held in reserve, looked up. Then--such was the distance--the rumble of
+the mob reached his ears; at the same time, spreading like a grass fire,
+the commotion broke out in another street, to another and another, until
+the air was filled with the new undertone of countless human tongues.
+
+Chick was fascinated. The thing was over-strange. While he looked and
+listened the whole scene turned to conflict; the voice of the throng
+became ominous. The guards still held the cables, still beat back the
+populace. Could they hold out, wondered Chick idly; and what was it all
+about?
+
+Something touched his shoulder. He wheeled. One of the tall,
+red-uniformed guards was standing beside him. Watson instinctively drew
+back, and as he did so the other stepped forward, touched the snap, and
+closed the window.
+
+"What's the idea? I was just getting interested!"
+
+The soldier nodded pleasantly, respectfully--reverently.
+
+"Orders from below, my lord. Were you to remain at that window it would
+take all the guards in the Mahovisal to keep back the Thomahlians."
+
+"Why?" Chick was astonished.
+
+"There are a million pilgrims in the city, my lord, who have waited
+months for just one glimpse of you."
+
+Watson considered. This was a new and a dazing aspect of the affair.
+Evidently the expression on his face told the soldier that some
+explanation would not be amiss.
+
+"The pilgrims are almost innumerable, my lord. They are all of the one
+great faith. They are, my lord, the true believers, the believers in the
+Day."
+
+The Day! Instantly Watson recalled Senestro's use of the expression. He
+sensed a valuable clue. He caught and held the soldier's eye.
+
+"Tell me," commanded Chick. "What is this Day of which you speak!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+AN ALLY, AND SOLID GROUND
+
+
+The soldier replied unhesitatingly: "It is the Day of Life, my lord.
+Others call it the 'first of the Sixteen Days.' Still others, simply the
+Day of the Prophet, or Jarados."
+
+"When will it be?"
+
+"Soon. It is but two days hence. And with the going down of the sun on
+that day the Fulfilment is to begin, and the Life is to come. Hence the
+crowd below, my lord; yet they are nothing compared with the crowds that
+today are pressing their way from all D'Hartia and Kospia towards the
+Mahovisal."
+
+"All because of the Day?"
+
+"And to see YOU, my lord."
+
+"All believers in the Jarados?"
+
+"All truly; but they do not all believe in your lordship. There are
+many sects, including the Bars, that consider you an imposter; but the
+rest--perhaps the most--believe you the Herald of the Day. All want to
+see you, for whatever motive."
+
+"These Bars; who are they?"
+
+"The military priesthood, my lord. As priests they teach a literal
+interpretation of the prophecy; as soldiers they maintain their own
+aggrandisement. To be more specific, my lord, it is they who accuse you
+of being one of the false ones."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it is written in the prophecy, my lord, that we may expect
+impostors, and that we are to slay them."
+
+"Then this coming contest with the Senestro--" beginning to sense the
+drift of things.
+
+"Yes, my lord; it will be a physical contest, in which the best man
+destroys the other!"
+
+The guard was a tall, finely made and truly handsome chap of perhaps
+thirty-five. Watson liked the clear blue of his eyes and the openness
+of his manner. At the same time he felt that he was being weighed and
+balanced.
+
+"My lord is not afraid?"
+
+"Not at all! I was just thinking--when does this kill take place?"
+
+"Two days hence, my lord; on the first of the Sixteen Sacred Days."
+
+And thus Chick found a staunch friend. The soldier's name, he learned,
+was "the Jan Lucar." He was supreme in command of the royal guards; and
+Chick soon came to feel that the man would as cheerfully lay down his
+life for him, Watson, as for the queen herself. All told, Chick was able
+to store away in his memory a few very important facts:
+
+First, that the Aradna did not like the Senestro.
+
+Second, that the Jan Lucar hated the great Bar because of the prince's
+ambition to wed the queen and her cousin, the Nervina; also because of
+his selfish, autocratic ways.
+
+Next, that were the Nervina on hand she would thwart the Senestro; for
+she was a very learned woman, as advanced as the Rhamda Avec himself.
+But that she was a queen first and a scholar afterwards; her motive in
+going through the Blind Spot was to take care of the political welfare
+of her people, her purposes were as high as Rhamda Avec's, but partook
+of statesmanship rather than spirituality.
+
+Finally, that the Rhamdas were perfectly willing for the coming contest
+to take place, on the evening of the Day of the Prophet, in the Temple
+of the Bell and Leaf.
+
+"Jan Lucar," Watson felt prompted to say, "you need have no fear as to
+the outcome of the ordeal, whatever it may be. With your faith in me,
+I cannot fail. For the present, I need books, papers, scientific data.
+Moreover, I want to see the outside of this building."
+
+The guardsman bowed. "The data is possible, my lord, but as to leaving
+the building--I must consult the queen and the Rhamda Geos first."
+
+"But I said MUST" Watson dared to say. "I must go out into your world,
+see your cities, your lands, rivers, mountains, before I do aught else.
+I must be sure!"
+
+The other bowed again. He was visibly impressed.
+
+"What you ask, my lord, is full of danger. You must not be seen in
+the streets--yet. Untold bloodshed would ensue inevitably. To half the
+Thomahlians you are sacred, and to the other half an impostor. I repeat,
+my lord, that I must see the Geos and the queen."
+
+Another bow and the Jan disappeared, to return in a few moments with the
+Geos.
+
+"The Jan has told me, my lord, that you would go out."
+
+"If possible. I want to see your world."
+
+"I think it can be arranged. Is your lordship ready to go?"
+
+"Presently." Watson laid a hand on the big globe he had already puzzled
+over. "This represents the Thomahlia?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"How long is your day, Geos?"
+
+"Twenty-four hours."
+
+"I mean, how many revolutions in one circuit of the sun, in one
+year-circle?"
+
+As he uttered the question Chick held his breath. It had suddenly struck
+him that he had touched an extremely definite point. The answer might
+PLACE him!
+
+"You mean, my lord, how long is a circle in term of days?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Three hundred and sixty-five and a fraction, my lord."
+
+Watson was dumbfounded. Could there be, in all the universe, another
+world with precisely the same revolution period? But he could not afford
+to show his concern. He said:
+
+"Tell me, have you a moon?"
+
+"Yes; it has a cycle of about twenty-eight days."
+
+Watson drew a deep breath. Inconceivable though it appeared, he was
+still on his own earth. For a moment he pondered, wondering if he had
+been caught up in tangle of time-displacement. Could it be that, instead
+of living in the present, he had somehow become entangled in the past or
+in the future?
+
+If so--and by now he was so accustomed to the unusual that he considered
+this staggering possibility with equanimity--if the time coefficient was
+at fault, then how to account for the picture of the professor, in that
+leaf? Had they both been the victims of a ghastly cosmic joke?
+
+There was but one way to find out.
+
+"Come! Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+LOOKING DOWN
+
+
+Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room, one
+entire side of which was wide open to the outer air. It was filled by a
+number of queer, shining objects. At first glance Chick took them to be
+immense beetles.
+
+The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos:
+
+"We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec."
+
+Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran up to
+one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun
+it gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic
+floor.
+
+"I presume," apologised the Geos, "that you have much finer aircraft in
+your world."
+
+Aircraft! Watson was all eagerness. He saw that the June Bug was about
+ten feet high, with a bunchy, buglike body. On closer scrutiny he could
+make out the outlines of wings folded tight against the sides. As for
+the material, it must have been metal, to use a term which does not
+explain very much, after all. In every respect the machine was a
+duplicate of some great insect, except that instead of legs it had
+well-braced rollers.
+
+"How does it operate?" Watson wanted to know. "That is, what power do
+you use, and how do you apply it?"
+
+The Jan Lucar threw back a plate. Watson looked inside, and saw a mass
+of fine spider-web threads, softer than the tips of rabbit's hair, all
+radiating from a central grey object about the size of a pea. Chick
+reached out to touch this thing with his finger.
+
+But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled him
+back.
+
+"Pardon me, my lord!" he exclaimed. "But you must not touch it!
+You--even you, would be annihilated!" Then to the Lucar: "Very well."
+
+Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a
+lever, perhaps. Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull red.
+
+"Now you may touch it," said the Geos.
+
+But Chick's desire had vanished. Instead he ventured a question:
+
+"All very interesting, but where is your machinery?"
+
+The Rhamda was slightly amused. He smiled a little. "You must give us a
+little credit, my lord. We must seem backward to you, but we have passed
+beyond reliance upon simple machines. That little grey pellet is, of
+course, our motive force; it is a highly refined mineral, which we mine
+in vast quantity. It has been in use for centuries. As for the hair-like
+web, that is our idea of a transmission."
+
+Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt. The
+other continued:
+
+"In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as
+possible. We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and instead
+tried to duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the birds and
+insects. We fly exactly as they do; our motive force is intrinsic. In
+some respects, we have improved upon life."
+
+"But it is still only a machine, Geos."
+
+"To be sure, my lord; only a machine. Anything without the life
+principle must remain so."
+
+The Jan Lucar pressed another catch, allowing another plate to lower
+and thereby disclose a glazed door, which opened into a cosy apartment
+fitted with wicker chairs, and large enough for four persons. There
+was some sort of control gear, which the Jan Lucar explained was not
+connected directly with the flying and steering members, but indirectly
+through the membranes of the web-like system. It was uncannily similar
+to the nervous connections of the cerebellum with the various parts of
+the anatomy of an insect.
+
+"Does it travel very fast?"
+
+"We think so, my lord. This is the private machine of the Rhamda Avec.
+It is rather small, but the swiftest machine in the Thomahlia."
+
+They entered the compartment, Watson took his seat beside the Geos,
+while the soldier sat forward next to the control elements. He laid
+his hands on certain levers; next instant, the machine was gliding
+noiselessly over the mosaic, on to a short incline and thence, with ever
+increasing speed, toward and through the open side of the room.
+
+The slides had all been thrown back; the compartment was enclosed only
+in glass. Watson could get a clear view, and he was amazed at the
+speed of the craft. Before he could think they were out in mid-air and
+ascending skyward. Travelling on a steep slant, there was no vibration,
+no mechanical noise; scarcely the suggestion of movement, except for the
+muffled swish of the air.
+
+Were it not for the receding city below him, Chick could have imagined
+himself sitting in a house while a windstorm tore by. He felt no change
+in temperature or any other ill effects; the cabin was fully enclosed,
+and heated by some invisible means. In short, ideal flight: for
+instance, the seats were swung on gimbals, so that no matter at
+what angle the craft might fly, the passengers would maintain level
+positions.
+
+Below stretched the Mahovisal--a mighty city of domes and plazas, and,
+widely scattered, a few minarets. At the southern end there was a vast,
+square plaza, covering thousands of acres. Toward it, on two sides,
+converged scores of streets; they stretched away from it like the ribs
+of a giant fan. On the remaining two sides there was a tremendously
+large building with a V-shaped front, opening on the square. The play
+of opal light on its many-bubbled roof resembled the glimmer from a vast
+pearl.
+
+In the air above the city an uncountable number of very small objects
+darted hither and thither like sparkling fireflies. It was difficult to
+realise that they, too, were aircraft.
+
+To the west lay an immense expanse of silver, melting smoothly into the
+horizon. Watson took it to be the Thomahlian ocean. Then he looked up at
+the sky directly above him, and breathed a quick exclamation.
+
+It was a single, small object, perfectly white, dropping out of the
+amethyst. Tiny at first, amost instantly it assumed a proportion nearly
+colossal--a great bird, white as the breast of the snowdrift, swooping
+with the grace of the eagle and the speed of the wind. It was so very
+large that it seemed, to Chick, that if all the other birds he had
+ever known were gathered together into one they would still be as the
+swallow. Down, down it came in a tremendous spiral, until it gracefully
+alighted in a splash of molten colour on the bosom of the silver sea.
+For a moment it was lost in a shower of water jewels--and then lay
+still, a swan upon the ocean.
+
+"What is it, Geos?"
+
+"The Kospian Limited, my lord. One of our great airships--a fast one, we
+consider it."
+
+"It must accommodate a good many people, Rhamda."
+
+"About nine thousand."
+
+"You say it comes from Kospia. How far away is that?"
+
+"About six thousand miles. It is an eight-hour run, with one stop. Just
+now the service is every fifteen minutes. They are coming, of course,
+for the Day of the Prophet."
+
+Watson continued to watch the great airship, noting the swarm of smaller
+craft that came out from the Mahovisal to greet it, until the Jan Lucar
+suddenly altered the course. They stopped climbing, and struck out on a
+horizontal level. It left the Mahovisal behind them, a shimmering spot
+of fire beside the gleaming sea. They were travelling eastwards. The
+landscape below was level and unvaried, of a greenish hue, and much
+like that of Chick's own earth in the early spring-time--a vast expanse,
+level and sometimes dotted with opalescent towns and cities. Ribbons of
+silver cut through the plain at intervals, crookedly lazy and winding,
+indicating a drainage from north to south or vice versa. Looking back to
+the west, he could see the great, golden sun, poised as he had seen it
+that morning, a huge amber plate on the rim of the world. It was sunset.
+
+Then Chick looked straight ahead. Far in the distance a great wall
+loomed skyward to a terrific height. So vast was it and so remote, at
+first it had escaped the eye altogether. An incredibly high range
+of mountains, glowing with a faint rose blush under the touch of the
+setting sun. Against the sky were many peaks, each of them tipped with
+curious and sparkling diamond-like corruscations. As Chick continued to
+gaze the rose began to purple.
+
+The Jan Lucar put the craft to another upward climb. So high were they
+now that the Thomahlia below was totally lost from view; it was but
+a maze of lurking shadows. The sun was only a gash of amber--it was
+twilight down on the ground. And Watson watched the black line of the
+Thomahlian shadow climb the purple heights before him until only the
+highest crests and the jewelled crags flashed in the sun's last rays.
+Then, one by one, they flickered out; and all was darkness.
+
+Still they ascended. Watson became uneasy, sitting there in the night.
+
+"Where are we going?"
+
+"To the Carbon Regions, my lord. It is one of the sights of the
+Thomahlia."
+
+"On top of those mountains?"
+
+"Beyond, my lord."
+
+Whereupon, to Chick's growing amazement, the Geos went on to state that
+carbon of all sorts was extremely common throughout their world. The
+same forces that had formed coal so generously upon the earth had thrown
+up, almost as lavishly, huge quantities of pure diamond. The material
+was of all colours, as diamonds run, and considered of small value; for
+every day purposes they preferred substances of more sombre hues. They
+used it, it seemed, to build houses with.
+
+"But how do they cut it?"
+
+"Very easily. The material which drives this craft--Ilodium--will cut it
+like butter."
+
+Later, Watson understood. He watched as the craft continued to climb;
+the Jan Lucar was steering without the aid of any outside lights
+whatever, there being only a small light illuminating his instruments.
+Chick presently turned his gaze outside again; whereupon he got another
+jolt.
+
+He saw a NEGATIVE sky!
+
+At first he thought his eyes the victims of an illusion; then he looked
+closer. And he saw that it was true; instead of the familiar starry
+points of light against a velvet background, the arrangement was
+just the reverse. Every constellation was in its place, just as Chick
+remembered it from the earth; but instead of stars there were jet-black
+spots upon a faint, grey background.
+
+The whole sky was one huge Milky Way, except for the black spots. And
+from it all there shone just about as much total light as from the
+heavens he had known.
+
+Of all he experienced, this was the most disturbing. It seemed totally
+against all reason; for he knew the stars to be great incandescent
+globes in space. How explain that they were here represented in reverse,
+their brilliance scattered and diffused over the surrounding sky,
+leaving points of blackness instead? Afterward he learned that the
+peculiar chemical constituency of the atmosphere was solely responsible
+for the inversion of the usual order of things.
+
+All of a sudden the Jan Lucar switched the craft to a level. He held up
+one hand and pointed.
+
+"Look, my lord, and the Rhamda! Look!"
+
+Both men rose from their seats, the better to stare past the soldier.
+Straight ahead, where had been one of the corruscating peaks, a streak
+of blue fire shot skyward, a column of light miles high, differing
+from the beams of a searchlight in that the rays were WAVY, serpentine,
+instead of straight. It was weirdly beautiful. Geos caught his breath;
+he leaned forward and touched the Jan Lucar.
+
+"Wait," he said in an awed tone. "Wait a moment. It has never come
+before, but we can expect it now." And even as he spoke, something
+wonderful happened.
+
+From the base of the column two other streaks, one red and the other
+bright green, cut out through the blackness on either side. The three
+streams started from the same point; they made a sort of trident, red,
+green, and blue--twisting, alive--strangely impressive, suggestive of
+grandeur and omnipotence--holy.
+
+Again the Rhamda spoke. "Wait!" said he. "Wait!"
+
+They were barely moving now. Watson watched and wondered. The three
+streams of light ran up and up, as though they would pierce the heavens;
+the eye could not follow their ends. All in utter silence, nothing but
+those beams of glorified light, their reality a hint of power, of life
+and wisdom--of the certainty of things. Plainly it had a tremendous
+significance in the minds of the Geos and the Lucar.
+
+Then came the climax. Slowly, but somehow inexorably, like the laws of
+life itself, and somewhere at a prodigious height above the earth, the
+three outer ends of the red and the green and the blue spread out
+and flared back upon themselves and one another, until their combined
+brilliance bridged a great rainbow across the sky. Blending into all
+the colours of the prism, the bow became--for a moment--pregnant with
+an overpowering beauty, symbolical, portentous of something stupendous
+about to come out of the unknown to the Thomahlians. And next--
+
+The bow began to move, to swirl, and to change in shape and colour. The
+three great rivers of light billowed and expanded and rounded into a new
+form. Then they burst--into a vast, three-leafed clover--blue and red
+and green!
+
+And Watson caught the startled words of the Geos:
+
+"The Sign of the Jarados!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+THE VOICE FROM THE VOID
+
+
+Even while that inexplicable heavenly pageant still burned against the
+heavens, something else took place, a thing of much greater importance
+to Chick. And, it happened right before his eyes.
+
+In the front of the car was a dial, slightly raised above the level of
+the various controlling instruments. And all of a sudden this dial, a
+small affair about six inches across, broke into light and life.
+
+First, there was a white blaze that covered the whole disc; then the
+whiteness abruptly gave way to a flood of colour, which resolved itself
+into a perfect miniature of the tri-coloured cloverleaf in the sky
+ahead. Chick saw, however that the positions of the red and green were
+just the obverse of what glowed in the distance; and then he heard the
+voice, strong and distinct, speaking with a slight metallic twang as
+from a microphone hidden in that little, blazing, coloured leaf:
+
+"Listen, ye who have ears to listen!"
+
+It was said in the Thomahlian tongue. The Geos breathed:
+
+"The voice of the Prophet Jarados!"
+
+But the next moment the unseen speaker began in another language--clear,
+silver, musical--in English, and in a voice that Chick recognised!
+
+"Chick! You have done well, my boy. Your courage and your intuition may
+lead us out. Follow the prophecy to the letter, Chick; it MUST come
+to pass, exactly as it is written! Don't fail to read it, there on the
+walls of the Temple of the Bell, when you encounter the Bar Senestro on
+the Day of the Prophet!
+
+"I have discovered many things, my boy, but I am not omnipotent. Your
+coming has made possible my last hope that I may return to my own kind,
+and take with me the secrets of life. You have done right to trust your
+instinct; have no fear, yet remember that if you--if we--make one false
+step we are lost.
+
+"Finally, if you should succeed in your contest with the Senestro, I
+shall send for you; but if you fail, I know how to die.
+
+"Return at once to the Mahovisal. Don't cross into the Region of Carbon.
+Take care how you go back; the Bars are waiting. But you can put full
+confidence in the Rhamdas."
+
+Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the
+Thomahlian tongue again: "It is I who speak--I, the Prophet; the Prophet
+Jarados!"
+
+All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased. Chick was
+glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic, and too good
+to believe. The first actual words from the missing professor! Each
+syllable was frozen into Watson's memory.
+
+The Geos was clutching his arm.
+
+"Did you understand, my lord? We heard the voice of the prophet! What
+did he say?"
+
+"Yes, I understand. He used his own language--my language. And he
+said"--taking the reins firmly into his hands--"he said that we must
+return to the Thomahlia. And we must beware of the Bars."
+
+There was no thought of questioning him. Without waiting the Geos'
+command, the Jan Lucar began putting the craft about. Watson glanced at
+the sky; the great spectacle was gone; and he demanded of the soldier:
+
+"How can we get back? How do we find our way?"
+
+For there was no visible light save the strange, fitful glow from
+that uncanny sky to guide them; no lights from the inky carpet of the
+Thomahlia, lights such as one would expect for the benefit of fliers.
+But the soldier touched a button, and instantly another and larger dial
+was illumined above the instruments.
+
+It revealed a map or chart of a vast portion of the Thomahlia. On the
+farther edge there appeared an area coloured to represent water, and
+adjoining this area was a square spot labeled "The Mahovisal." And about
+midway from this point to the near edge of the dial a red dot hung,
+moving slowly over the chart.
+
+"The red dot, my lord, indicates our position," explained the Jan. "In
+that manner we know at all times where we are located, and which way we
+are flying. We shall arrive in the Mahovisal shortly."
+
+As he spoke the craft was gaining speed, and soon was travelling at
+an even greater rate than before. The red dot began to crawl at an
+astonishing speed. Of course, they had the benefit of the pull of
+gravity, now; apparently they would make the journey in a few minutes.
+But incredible though the speed might be, there was nothing but the red
+dot to show it.
+
+The Geos felt like talking. "My lord, the sign is conclusive. It is a
+marvel, such as only the prophet could possibly have produced; with all
+our science we could not duplicate such splendour. Only once before has
+the Thomahlia seen it."
+
+Already they were near enough to the surface to make out the clustered,
+blinking lights of the towns on the plain below. Ahead of them queer
+streamers of pale rays thrust through the darkness. Watson recognised
+them as the beams of the far-distant searchlights; and then and there
+he gave thanks for one thing, at least, in which the Thomahlians had
+seemingly progressed no further than the people of the earth.
+
+Coming a little nearer, Chick made out a number of bright, glittering,
+insect-like objects, revealed by these searchlights. The Jan Lucar said:
+
+"The Bars, my lord. They are waiting; and they will head us off if they
+can."
+
+"The work of Senestro, I suppose. I thought he claimed to some honour."
+
+"It is not the prince's work, my lord," replied the soldier. "His
+D'Hartian and Kospian followers, some of them, have no scruples as to
+how they might slay the 'false one', as they think you."
+
+"Suppose," hazarded Watson, "suppose I WERE the false one?"
+
+Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very sure
+as he replied:
+
+"If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself."
+
+They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable
+opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense as
+sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square on the
+lighted chart. And directly ahead, the air was becoming alive with the
+beam-revealed aircraft. How could they get by in safety?
+
+But Chick did not know the Jan Lucar. The soldier said:
+
+"My lord is not uneasy?"
+
+"Of course not," with unconcern. "Why?"
+
+"Because I propose something daring. I am free to admit, my lord, that
+were the Geos and I alone, I should not attempt it. But not even the
+Bars," with magnificent confidence, "can stand before us now! We have
+had the proof of the Jarados, and we know that no matter what the odds,
+he will carry us through."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"I propose to shoot it, my lord." And without explaining the Jan asked
+the Geos: "Are you agreeable? The June Bug will hold; the prophet will
+protect us."
+
+"Surely," returned the Rhamda. "There is nothing to fear, now, for those
+who are in the company of the chosen."
+
+Watson wondering watched the Jan as he tilted the nose of the June Bug
+and began to climb at an all but perpendicular angle straight into the
+heavens. Mile after mile, in less than as many minutes, they hurtled
+towards the zenith, so that the lights of the city dimmed until only
+the searching shafts could be seen. Chick began to guess what they
+were going to do; that the Jan Lucar was nearly as reckless as he was
+handsome.
+
+At last the soldier brought the craft to a level. They soared along
+horizontally for a while; the Jan kept his eye fixed on the red dot. And
+when it was directly above the black square he stated:
+
+"It is considered a perilous feat, my lord. We are going to drop. If we
+make it from this height, not only will we break all records, but will
+have proved the June Bug the superior in this respect, as she is in
+speed. It is our only chance in any circumstances, but with the Jarados
+at our side, we need not fear that the craft will stand the strain. We
+shall go through them like stone; before they know it we shall be in the
+drome--in less than a minute."
+
+"From this height?" Chick concealed a shudder behind a fair show of
+scepticism. "A minute is not much time."
+
+"Does my lord fear the drop?"
+
+"Why should I? I have in mind the June Bug; she might be set afire
+through friction, in dropping so quickly through the air." Watson had a
+vivid picture of a blazing meteorite, containing the charred bodies of
+three men, dropping out of--
+
+"My lord need not be concerned with that," the Jan assured him. "The
+shell of the car is provided with a number of tiny pores, through
+which a heat-resisting fluid will be pumped during the manoeuvre. The
+temperature may be raised a little, but no more.
+
+"You see this plug," touching a hitherto unused knob among the
+instruments. "By pulling that out, the mechanism of the craft is
+automatically adjusted to care for every phase of the descent. Nothing
+else remains to be done, after removing that plug, save to watch the red
+dot and prepare to step out upon the floor of our starting-place."
+
+"Has the thing ever been done before?" Watson was sparring for time
+while he gathered his nerve.
+
+"I myself have seen it, my lord. The June Bug has been sent up many
+times, weighted with ballast; the plug was abstracted by clockwork; and
+in fifty-eight seconds she returned through the open end of the drone,
+without a hitch. It was beautiful. I have always envied her that plunge.
+And now I shall have the chance, with the hand of the Jarados as my
+guide and protector!"
+
+Chick had just time to reflect that, if by any chance he got through
+with this, he ought to be able to pass any test conceivable. He ought
+to be able to get away with anything. He started to murmur a prayer; but
+before he could finish, the Jan Lucar leaned over the dial-map for the
+last time, saw that the red dot was now exactly central over the square
+that represented the city, and unhesitatingly jerked out the plug.
+
+Of what happened next Watson remembered but little. The bottom seemed to
+have dropped out of the universe. He was conscious of a crushing blur
+of immensity, of a silent thundering within him--then mental chaos and a
+stunned oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+WHO IS THE JARADOS?
+
+
+It was all over. Chick opened his eyes to see the Jan throwing open the
+plate on the side of the compartment. Neither the soldier nor the Rhamda
+seemed to have noted Chick's daze. As for the Jan, his blue eyes were
+dancing with dare-devilry.
+
+"That's what I call living!" he grinned. "They can keep on looking for
+the June Bug all night!"
+
+Chick looked out. They were inside the great room from which they had
+started; the trip was over; the plunge had been made in safety. Chick
+took a long breath, and held out a hand.
+
+"A man after my own heart, Jan Lucar. I foresee that we may have great
+sport with the Senestro."
+
+"Aye, my lord," cheerfully. "The presumptuous usurper! I only wish I
+could kill him, instead of you."
+
+"You are not the only one," commented the Rhamda. "Half of the Rhamdas
+would cheerfully act as the chosen one's proxy."
+
+And so ended the events of Chick Watson's first day beyond the Blind
+Spot, his first day on the Thomahlia; that is, disregarding the previous
+months of unconsciousness. He had good reason to pass a sleepless night
+in legitimate worry for the outcome of it all; but instead he slept the
+sound sleep of exhaustion, awakening the next morning much refreshed.
+
+He reminded himself, first of all, that today was the one immediately
+preceding that of his test--the Day of the Prophet. He had only a little
+more than twenty-four hours to prepare. What was the best and wisest
+proceeding?
+
+He called for the Geos. He told him what data he wanted. The Rhamda said
+that he could find everything in a library in that building, and inside
+a half-hour he returned with a pile of manuscripts.
+
+Left to himself, Chick found that he now had data relating to all the
+sciences, to religion, to education and political history and the law.
+The chronology of the Thomahlians, Chick found, dates back no less than
+fifteen thousand years. An abiding civilisation of that antiquity, it
+need not be said, presented somewhat different aspects from what is
+known on the earth.
+
+It seemed that the Jarados had come miraculously. That is, he had come
+out of the unknown, through a channel which he himself later termed the
+Spot of Life.
+
+He had taught a religion of enlightenment, embracing intelligence,
+love, virtue, and the higher ethics such as are inherent in all great
+philosophies. But he did not call himself a religionist. That was the
+queer point. He said that he had come to teach an advanced philosophy of
+life; and he expressly stated that his teachings were absolute only to a
+limited extent.
+
+"Man must seek and find," was one of his epigrams; "and if he find no
+more truths, then he will find lies." Which was merely a negative way of
+saying that some of his philosophy was only provisional.
+
+But on some points he was adamant. He had arrived at a time when the
+unthinking, self-glorifying Thomahlians had all but exterminated the
+lower orders of creation. The Jarados sought to remove the handicap
+which the people had set upon themselves, and gave them, in the place
+of kindness which they had forgotten, how to use, a burning desire for
+a positive knowledge, where before had been only blind faith. Also, he
+taught good-fellowship, as a means to this end. He taught beauty, love,
+and laughter, the three great cleansers of humanity. And yet, through it
+all--
+
+The Jarados was a mystic.
+
+He studied life after a manner of his own. He was a stickler for getting
+down to the very heart of things, for prodding around among causes until
+he found the cause itself. And thus he learned the secret of the occult.
+
+For so he taught. And presently the Jarados was recognized as an
+authority on what the Thomahlia called "the next world." Only he showed
+that death, instead of being an ushering into a void, was merely a
+translation onto another plane of life, a higher plane and a more
+glorious one. In short, a thing to be desired and attained, not to be
+avoided.
+
+This put the Spot of Life on an entirely different basis. No longer
+was it a fearsome thing. The Jarados elevated death to the plane of
+motherhood--something to glory in. And Chick gathered that his famous
+prophecy--which he had yet to read, where it hung on the wall of the
+temple--gave every detail of the Jarados' profound convictions and
+teachings regarding the mystery of the next life.
+
+And now comes a curious thing. As Chick read these details, he became
+more and more conscious of--what shall it be called?--the presence of
+someone or something beside him, above and all about him, watching his
+every movement. He could not get away from the feeling, although it was
+broad daylight, and he was seemingly quite alone in the room. Chick was
+not frightened; but he could have sworn that a very real personality was
+enveloping his own as he read.
+
+Every word, somehow, reminded him of the miraculous sequence of facts
+as he knew them; the unerring accuracy with which he, quite unthinkingly
+and almost without volition, had solved problem after problem, although
+the chances were totally against him. He became more and more convinced
+that he himself had practically no control over his affairs; that he
+was in the hands of an irresistible Fate; and that--he could not help
+it--his good angel was none other than the prophet who, almost ninety
+centuries ago, had lived and taught upon the Thomahlia, and in the end
+had returned to the unknown.
+
+But how could such a thing be? Watson did not even know where he was!
+Small wonder that, again and again, he felt the need of assurance. He
+asked for the Jan Lucar.
+
+"In the first place," began Chick without preamble, "you accept me, Jan
+Lucar; do you not?"
+
+"Absolutely, my lord."
+
+"You conceive me to be out of the spiritual world, and yet flesh and
+blood like yourself?"
+
+"Of course," with flat conviction.
+
+That settled it. Watson decided to find out something he had not had
+time to locate in the library.
+
+"The Rhamda may have told you, Jan Lucar, that I am here to seek the
+Jarados. Now, I suspect the Senestro. Can you imagine what he has done
+to the prophet?"
+
+"My lord," remonstrated the other, "daring as the Bar might be, he could
+do nothing to the Jarados. He would not dare."
+
+"Then he is afraid to run counter to the prophecy?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; that is, its literal interpretation. He is opposed only
+to the broader version as held by such liberals as the Rhamda Avec. The
+Bars are always warning the people against the false one."
+
+"And the Senestro is at their head," mused Chick aloud. "This brother of
+his who died--usually there are two such princes and chiefs?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"And the Senestro plans to marry both queens, according to the custom!"
+
+"My lord"--and the Jan suddenly snapped erect--"the Bar will do
+exceedingly well if he succeeds in marrying one of them! Certainly he
+shall never have the Aradna--not while I live and can fight!"
+
+"Good! How about the Nervina?"
+
+"He'll do well to find her first!"
+
+"True enough. What would you say was his code of honour?"
+
+"My lord, the Senestro actually has no code. He believes in nothing. He
+is so constituted, mentally and morally, that he cares for and trusts in
+none but himself. He is a sceptic pure and simple; he cares nothing for
+the Jarados and his teachings. He is an opportunist seeking for power,
+wicked, lustful, cruel--"
+
+"But a good sportsman!"
+
+"In what way, my lord?"
+
+"Didn't he allow me the choice of combat?"
+
+The Jan laughed, but his handsome face could not hide his contempt.
+
+"It is ever so with a champion, my lord. He has never been defeated in
+a matter of physical prowess. It would be far more to his glory to
+overcome you in combat of your own selection. It will be spectacular--he
+knows the value of dramatic climax--and he would kill you in a moment,
+before a million Thomahlians."
+
+"It's a nice way to die," said Watson. "You must grant that much."
+
+"I don't know of any nice way to die, my lord. But it is a good way of
+living--to kill the Bar Senestro. I would that I could have the honour."
+
+"How does it come that the Rhamdas, superintellectual as they are,
+can consent to such a contest? Is it not degrading, to their way of
+thinking? It smacks of barbarism."
+
+"They do not look upon it in that light, my lord. Our civilisation has
+passed beyond snobbery. Of course there was a time, centuries ago when
+we were taught that any physical contest was brutal. But that was before
+we knew better."
+
+"You don't believe it now?"
+
+"By no means, my lord. The most wonderful physical thing in the
+Thomahlia is the human body. We do not hide it. We admire beauty,
+strength, prowess. The live body is above all art; it is the work of God
+himself; art is but an imitation. And there is nothing so splendid as
+a physical contest--the lightning correlation of mind and body. It is a
+picture of life."
+
+"Do the Rhamdas think this?"
+
+"Most assuredly. A Rhamda is always first an athlete."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Perfection, my lord. A perfect mind does not always dwell in a perfect
+body, but they strive for it as much as possible. The first test of a
+Rhamda is his body. After he passes that he must take the mental test."
+
+"Mental?"
+
+"Moral first. The most rigid, perhaps of all; he must be a man above
+suspicion. The honour of a Rhamda must never be questioned. He must
+be upright and absolutely unselfish. He must be broad-minded,
+human, lovable, and a leader of men. After that, my lord, comes the
+intellectual test."
+
+"He must be a learned man?"
+
+"Not exactly, your lordship. There are many very learned men who could
+not be Rhamdas; and there are many who have had no learning at all
+who eventually were admitted. The qualifications are intellectual,
+not educational; the mind is put to a rigid test. It is examined for
+alertness, perception, memory, reason, emotion, and control. There is no
+greater honour in all the Thomahlia."
+
+"And they are all athletes?"
+
+"Every one, my lord. In all the world there is no finer body of men, I
+myself would hesitate before entering a match with even the old Rhamda
+Geos."
+
+"How about the Rhamda Avec?"
+
+"Nor he, either; in the gymnasium he was always the superior, just as he
+topped all others morally and mentally."
+
+Did this explain the Avec's physical prowess, on the one hand, and the
+fact that he would not stoop to take that ring by force, on the other?
+
+"Just one more thing, Jan Lucar. You have absolutely no fear that I may
+fail tomorrow?"
+
+"Not the slightest, my lord. You cannot fail!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I have already said--because you are from the Jarados."
+
+And Chick, facing the greatest experience of his life, submerged in a
+sea wherein only a few islands of fact were visible, had to be content
+with this: his only friends were those who were firmly convinced of
+something which, he knew only too well, was a flat fraud! All this
+backing was based upon a misled faith.
+
+No, not quite. Was there not that strange feeling that the Jarados
+himself was at his back? And had he not found that the prophet had
+been real? Did he not feel, as positively as he felt anything, that the
+Jarados was still a reality?
+
+Chick went to bed that night with a light heart.
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+THE TEMPLE OF THE BELL
+
+
+It was hard for Chick to remember all the details of that great day.
+Throughout all the morning and afternoon he remained in his apartments.
+Breakfast over, the Rhamdas told him his part in certain ceremonies,
+such as need not be detailed here. They were very solicitous as to
+his food and comfort, and as to his feelings and anticipations. His
+nonchalance pleased them greatly. Afterward he had a bath and rub-down.
+
+A combat to the death, was it to be? Suits me, thought Watson. He was
+never in finer form.
+
+The Jan Lucar was particularly interested. He pinched and stroked
+Chick's muscles with the caressing pride of a connoisseur. Watson
+stepped out of the fountain bath in all the vigour of health. He
+playfully reached out for the Lucar and tripped him up. He sought to
+learn just what the Thomahlians knew in the art of self-defence.
+
+The brief struggle that ensued taught him that he need expect no easy
+conquest. The Jan was quick, active and the possessor of a science
+peculiarly effective. The Thomahlians did not box in the manner of the
+Anglo-Saxons; their mode was peculiar. Chick foresaw that he would
+be compelled to combine the methods of three kinds of combat: boxing,
+ju-jitsu, and the good old catch-as-catch-can wrestling. If the Senestro
+were superior to the Jan, he would have a time indeed. Though Watson
+conquered, he could not but concede that the Jan was not only clever but
+scientific to an oily, bewildering degree. The Lucar paused.
+
+"Enough, my lord! You are a man indeed. Do not overdo; save yourself for
+the Senestro."
+
+Clothes were brought, and Chick taken back to his apartment. The time
+passed with Rhamdas constantly at his side.
+
+The Geos was not present, nor the little queen. Chick sought permission
+to sit by the window--permission that was granted after the guards had
+placed screens that would withhold any view from outside, yet permit
+Chick to look out.
+
+As far as he could see, the avenues were packed with people. Only, this
+time the centres of the streets were clear; on the curbs he could see
+the opposing lines of the blue and crimson, holding back the waiting
+thousands. In the distance he could hear chimes, faint but distinct,
+like silver bells tinkling over water.
+
+At intervals rose strange choruses of weird, holy music. The full sweep
+of the city's domes and minarets was spread out before him. From eaves
+to basements the rolling luxuriance of orchidian beauty; banners, music,
+parade; a day of pageant, pomp, and fulfilment.
+
+He could catch the excitement in the air, the strange, laden
+undercurrent of spiritual salvation-something esoteric, undefinable, the
+ecstasy of a million souls pulsing to the throb of a supreme moment. He
+drew back, someone had touched him.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+It was one of the Rhamdas. He had in his hand a small metal clover, of
+the design of the Jarados.
+
+"What do I do?" asked Watson.
+
+"This," said the Rhamda, "was sent to you by one of the Bars."
+
+"By a Bar! What does it mean?"
+
+The other shook his head. "It was sent to you by one who wished it to be
+known by us that he is your friend, even though a Bar."
+
+Just then Watson noted something sticking out of the edge of one of the
+clover leaves. He pulled it out. It was a piece of paper. On it were
+scrawled words IN ENGLISH.
+
+The writing was pencil script, done in a poor hand and ill-spelled, but
+still English. Chick read:
+
+"Be of good cheer; there ain't a one in this world that can top a lad
+from Frisco. And it's Pat MacPherson that says it. Yer the finest laddie
+that ever got beyond the old Witch of Endor. You and me, if we hold on,
+is just about goin' to play hell with the haythen. Hold on and fight
+like the divil! Remember that Pat is with ye!
+
+"We're both spooks.
+
+"PAT MACPHERSON"
+
+Said Watson: "Who gave you this? Did you see the man?"
+
+"It was sent up my lord. The man was a high Bar in the Senestro's
+guard."
+
+Watson could not understand this. Was it possible that there were others
+in this mysterious region besides himself? At any rate, he wasn't wholly
+alone. He felt that he could count upon the Irishman--or was this
+fellow Scotch? Anyhow, such a man would find the quick means of wit at a
+crucial moment.
+
+Suddenly Watson noted a queer feeling of emptiness. He looked out of the
+window. The music had ceased, and the incessant hum of the throngs had
+deadened to silence. It was suspended, awesome, threatening. At the same
+time, the Jan Lucar came to attention, at the opposite door stood the
+Rhamda Geos, black clad, surrounded by a group of his fellows.
+
+"Come, my lord," he said.
+
+The crimson guard fell in behind Watson, the black-gowned took their
+places ahead, and the Jan Lucar and the Geos walked on either side. They
+stepped out into the corridor. By the indicator of a vertical clock,
+Chick noted that it was nine. He did not know the day of the year other
+than from the Thomahlian calendar; but he knew that it was close to
+sunset. He did not ask where they were going; there was no need. The
+very solemnity of his companions told him more than their answers would
+have. In a moment they were in the streets.
+
+Watson had thought that they would be taken by aircraft, or that
+they would pass through the building. He did not know that it was a
+concession to the Bar Senestro; that the Senestro was but playing a bit
+of psychology that is often practised by lesser champions. If Watson's
+nerve was not broken it was simply because of the iron indifference of
+confident health. Chick had never been defeated. He had no fear. He was
+far more curious as to the scenes and events about him than he was of
+the outcome. He was hoping for some incident that would link itself up
+into explanation.
+
+At the door a curious car of graceful lines was waiting, an odd affair
+that might be classed as a cross between a bird and a gondola, streaming
+with colours and of magnificent workmanship and design. On the deck of
+this the three men took their places; on the one side the Rhamda Geos,
+tall, sombre, immaculate; on the other, the magnificent Jan Lucar in the
+gorgeous crimson uniform, gold-braided and studded with jewels; on his
+head he wore the shako of purple down, and by his side a peculiar black
+weapon which he wore much in the manner of a sword.
+
+In the centre, Watson--bareheaded, his torso bare and his arms naked.
+He had been given a pair of soft sandals, and a short suit, whose one
+redeeming feature in his eyes was a pocket into which he had thrust the
+automatic that he valued so much. It was more like a picture of Rome
+than anything else. Whatever the civilisation of the Thomahlians, their
+ritual in Watson's eyes smacked still of barbarism.
+
+But he was intensely interested in all about him. The avenues were
+large. On either side the guards were drawn up eight deep, holding back
+the multitude that pressed and jostled with the insistence of curiosity.
+He looked into the myriad faces; about him, splendid features, of
+intelligent man and women.
+
+Not one face suggested the hideous; the women were especially beautiful,
+and, from what he could see, finely formed and graceful. Many of them
+smiled; he could hear the curious buzz of conjecturing whispers. Some
+were indifferent, while others, from the expression of their faces, were
+openly hostile.
+
+Chick was in the middle of a procession, the Rhamdas marching before and
+the crimson guard bringing up the rear. A special guard: the inner one,
+Rhamdas, the outer one of crimson surrounding them all.
+
+The car started. There was no trace of friction; it was noiseless,
+automatic. Chick could only conjecture as to its mechanism. The black
+column of Rhamdas moved ahead rhythmically, with the swing of solemn
+grandeur. For some minutes they marched through the streets of the
+Mahovisal. There was no cheering; it was a holy, awesome occasion. Chick
+could sense the undercurrent of the staring thousands, the reverence
+and the piety. It was the Day of the Prophet. They were staring at a
+miracle.
+
+The column turned a corner. For the first time Watson was staggered by
+sheer immensity; for the first time he felt what it might be to see with
+the eyes of an insect. Had he been an ant looking up at the columns
+of Karnak, he would still have been out of proportion. It was immense,
+colossal, beyond man. It was of the omnipotent--the pillared portal of
+the Temple of the Bell.
+
+Such a building a genius might dream of, in a moment of unhampered,
+inspired imagination. It was stupendous. The pillars were hexagonal
+in shape, and in diameter each of about the size of an ordinary house.
+Dropping from an immense height, it seemed as if they had originally
+poured out in the form of molten metal from immense bell-like flares
+that fell from the vaulted architrave. Such was the design.
+
+Chick got the impression that the top of the structure, somehow, was
+not supported by the foundation, but rather the reverse--the floor was
+suspended from the ceiling. It was the work of the Titans--so high
+and stupendous that at the first instant Watson felt numb with
+insignificance. What chance had he against men of such colossal
+conception.
+
+How large the building was he could not see. The Gargantuan facade
+itself was enough to smother comprehension. It was laid out in the
+form of a triangle, one end of which was open towards the city; the
+two sections of the facade met under a huge, arched opening--the door
+itself. Watson recognised the structure as the one he had seen from
+the June Bug on the outskirts of the Mahovisal. The enormous plaza was
+packed with people, leaving only a narrow lane for the procession; and
+as far back as Chick could see crowds in the streets converged towards
+this vast space. Their numbers were incalculable.
+
+The car stopped. The guards, both crimson and blue, formed a twenty-fold
+cordon. Watson could feel the suspended breath of the waiting multitude.
+The three men stepped out--the Geos first, then the Jan Lucar, and
+Watson last. Chick caught the Lucar's eye; it was confident; the man was
+springing with vigour, jovial in spite of the moment.
+
+They passed between two of the huge pillars, and under the giant arch.
+For a few minutes they walked through what seemed, to Chick, a perfect
+maze of those titanic columns. And every foot was marked by the lines of
+crimson and blue, flanking either side.
+
+An immense sea of people rose high into the forest of pillars as far as
+his eye could reach. He had never been in such a concourse of humanity.
+
+They passed through an inner arch, a smaller and lower one, into what
+Chick guessed was the temple proper. And if Chick had thought the
+anteroom stupendous, he saw that a new word, one which went beyond all
+previous experience, was needed to describe what he now saw.
+
+It was almost too immense to be grasped in its entirety. Gone was the
+maze of columns; instead, far, far away to the right and to the left,
+stood single rows of herculean pillars. There were but seven on a side,
+separated by great distances; and between them stretched a space so
+immense, so incredibly vast, that a small city could have been housed
+within it. And over it all was not the open sky, but a ceiling of such
+terrific grandeur that Chick almost halted the procession while he
+gazed.
+
+For that ceiling was the under side of a cloud, a grey-black, forbidding
+thundercloud. And the fourteen pillars, seven on either side, were
+prodigious waterspouts, monster spirals of the hue of storm, with
+flaring sweeps at top and bottom that welded roof and floor into one
+terrific whole. Sheer from side to side stretched that portentous level
+cloud; it was a span of an epoch; and on either side it was rooted in
+those awful columns, seemingly alive, as though ready at any instant to
+suck up the earth into the infinite.
+
+By downright will-power Watson tore his attention away and directed it
+upon the other features of that unprecedented interior. It was lighted,
+apparently, by great windows behind the fourteen pillars; windows
+too far to be distinguishable. And the light revealed, directly ahead
+something that Chick at first thought to be a cascade of black water.
+It leaped out of the rear wall of the temple, and at its crest it
+was bordered with walls of solid silver, cut across and designed with
+scrolls of gold and gem work; walls that swooped down and ended with two
+huge green columns at the base of that fantastic fall.
+
+As they approached a swarm of tiny bronze objects, silver winged,
+fluttered out through the temple--tiny birds, smaller than swallows,
+beautiful and swift-winged, elusive. They were without number; in a
+moment the air of the temple was alive with flitting, darting spots of
+glinting colour.
+
+Then Chick saw that there were two people sitting high on the crest
+of that cascade. Wondering, Chick and the rest marched on through the
+silent crowd; all standing with bared heads and bated breaths. The
+worshipping Thomahlians filled every inch of that enormous place. Only
+a narrow lane permitted the procession to pass towards that puzzling,
+silent, black waterfall.
+
+They were almost at its base when Chick saw the vanguard of the Rhamdas
+unhesitatingly stride straight against the torrent, and then mount upon
+it. Up they marched; and Chick knew that the black water was black jade,
+and that the two people at its crest were seated upon a landing at the
+top of the grandest stairway he had ever seen.
+
+Up went the Rhamdas deploying to right and left against the silver
+walls. The crimson and blue uniformed guards remained behind, lining
+the lane through the throng. At the foot of the steps Chick stopped and
+looked around, and again he felt numb at the sheer vastness of it all.
+
+For he was looking back now at the portal through which the procession
+had marched; a portal now closed; and above it, covering a great expanse
+of that wall and extending up almost into the brooding cloud above, was
+spread a mighty replica of the tri-coloured Sign of the Jarados.
+
+For the first time Chick felt the full significance of symbolism.
+Whereas before it had been but an incident of adventure, now it was the
+symbol of mystic revelation. It was not only the motif for all other
+decoration upon the walls and minor elements of the temple; it was the
+emblem of the trinity, deep, holy, significant of the mystery of
+the universe and the hereafter. There was something deeper than mere
+fatalism; behind all was the fact-rooted faith of a civilisation.
+
+But at that moment, as Chick paused with one foot on the bottom step of
+the flight, something happened that sent quivers of joy and confidence
+all through him. Someone was talking--talking in English!
+
+Chick looked. The speaker was a man in the blue garb of the Senestro's
+guard. He was standing at the end of the line nearest the stair, and
+slightly in front of his fellows. Like the rest, he was holding his
+weapon, a black, needled-pointed sword, at the salute. Chick gave him
+only a glance, then had the presence of mind to look elsewhere as a man
+said, in a low, guarded voice:
+
+"Y' air right, me lad; don't look at me. I know what ye're thinkin'. But
+she ain't as bad as she looks! Keep yer heart clear; never fear. You an'
+me can lick all Thomahlia! Go straight up them stairs, an' stand that
+blackguard Senestro on his 'ead, just like y'd do in Frisco!"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Watson, intent upon the great three-leafed clover.
+He used the same low, cautious tone the other had employed. "Who are
+you, friend?"
+
+"Pat MacPherson, of course," was the answer. "An' Oi've said a plenty.
+Now, go aboot your business."
+
+Watson did not quibble. There was no time to learn more. He did not wish
+it to be noticed; yet he could not hide it from the Jan Lucar and the
+Rhamda Geos, who were still at his side. They had heard that tongue
+before. The looks they exchanged told, however, that they were gratified
+rather than displeased by the interruption. Certainly all feelings of
+depression left Chick, and he ascended the stairs with a glad heart and
+a resilient stride that could not but be noticed.
+
+He was ready for the Senestro.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+THE PROPHECY
+
+
+Reaching the top of the jade steps, Chick found the landing to be a
+great dais, nearly a hundred feet across. On the right and left this
+dais was hedged in by the silver walls, on each of which was hung a
+huge, golden scrollwork. These scrolls bore legends, which for the
+moment Chick ignored. At the rear of the dais was a large object like a
+bronze bell.
+
+The floor was of the usual mosaic, except in the centre, where there
+was a plain, circular design. Chick took careful note of this, a circle
+about twenty feet across, as white and unbroken as a bed of frozen snow.
+Whether it was stone or not he could not determine. All around its edge
+was a gap that separated it from the dais, a gap several inches across.
+Chick turned to Geos:
+
+"The Spot of Life?"
+
+"Even so. It is the strangest thing in all the Thomahlia, my lord. Can
+you feel it?"
+
+For Watson had reached out with his toe and touched the white surface.
+He drew it back suddenly.
+
+"It has a feeling," he replied, "that I cannot describe. It is cold, and
+yet it is not. Perhaps it is my own magnetism."
+
+"Ah! It is well, my lord!"
+
+What the Rhamda meant by that Chick could not tell. He was interested
+in the odd white substance. It was as smooth as glass, although at
+intervals there were faint, almost imperceptible, dark lines, like the
+finest scratches in old ivory. Yet the whiteness was not dazzling. Again
+Watson touched it with his foot, and noted the inexplicable feeling of
+exhilaration. In the moment of absorption he quite forgot the concourse
+about him. He knew that he was now standing on the crux of the Blind
+Spot.
+
+But in a minute he turned. The dais was a sort of nave, with one end
+open to the stairway. Seated on his left was the frail Aradna, occupying
+a small throne-like chair of some translucent green material. On the
+right sat the Bar Senestro, in a chair differing only in that its colour
+was a bright blue. In the centre of the dais stood a third chair--a
+crimson one--empty.
+
+The Senestro stood up. He was royally clad, his breast gleaming with
+jewels. He was certainly handsome; he had the carriage of confident
+royalty. There was no fear in this man, no uncertainty, no weakness.
+If confidence were a thing of strength, the Senestro was already the
+victor. In his heart Chick secretly admired him.
+
+But just then the Aradna stood up, She made an indication to Watson. He
+stepped over to the queen. She sat down again.
+
+"I want to give you my benediction, stranger lord. Are you sure of
+yourself? Can you overcome the Senestro?"
+
+"I am certain," spoke Watson. "It is for the queen, O Aradna. I know
+nothing of the prophecy; but I will fight for you!"
+
+She blushed and cast a furtive look in the direction of the Senestro.
+
+"It is well," she spoke. "The outcome will have a double
+interpretation--the spiritual one of the prophecy, and the earthly,
+material one that concerns myself. If you conquer, my lord, I am freed.
+I would not marry the Senestro; I love him not. I would abide by the
+prophet, and await the chosen." She hesitated. "What do you know of the
+chosen, my lord?"
+
+"Nothing, O Aradna."
+
+"Has not the Rhamda Geos told you?"
+
+"Partly, but not fully. There is something that he is withholding."
+
+"Very likely. And now--will you kneel, my lord?"
+
+Watson knelt. The queen held out her hand. Behind him Chick could hear
+a deep murmur from the assembled multitudes. Just what was the
+significance of that sound he did not know; nor did he care. It was
+enough for him that he was to fight for this delicately beautiful
+maiden. He would let the prophecy take care of itself.
+
+Besides these three on the dais there were only the Rhamda Geos and
+the Jan Lucar. These two remained on the edge nearest the body of the
+temple, the edge at the crest of the stair. The empty chair remained so.
+
+Suddenly Chick remembered the warning of Dr. Holcomb: "Read the words of
+the Prophet." And he took advantage of the breathing-spell to peruse the
+legends on the great golden scrolls:
+
+THE PROPHECY OF THE JARADOS
+
+Behold! When the day is at hand, prepare ye!
+
+For, when that day cometh, ye shall have signs and portents from the
+world beyond. Wisdom cometh out of life, and life walketh out of wisdom.
+Yea, in the manner of life and of spirit ye shall have them, and of
+substance even like unto you yourselves.
+
+And it shall come to pass in the last days, that we shall be on guard.
+By these signs ye shall know them; even by the truths I have taught
+thee. The way of life is an open door; wisdom and virtue are its keys.
+And when the intelligence shall be lifted to the plane above--then shalt
+thou know!
+
+Mark ye well the Spot of Life! He that openeth it is the precursor of
+judgment. Mark him well!
+
+And thus shall the last days come to pass. See that ye are worthy, O
+wise ones! For behold in those last days there shall come among ye--
+
+The chosen of a line of kings. First there shall be one, and then there
+shall be two; and the two shall stay but the one shall return.
+
+The false ones. Them ye shall slay!
+
+The four footed: The call to humility, sacrifice and devotion, whom ye
+shall hold in reverence even as you hold me, the Jarados.
+
+And on the last day of all--I, the Jarados!
+
+Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I have given ye,
+and the day be postponed--beware ye of sacrilege!
+
+And if the false ones cometh not, ye shall know that I have held them.
+Know ye the day!
+
+Sixteen days from the day of the prophet, shall come the day of the
+judgment; and the way shall be opened, on the last day, the sixteenth
+day of the Jarados.
+
+Hearken to the words of the Jarados, the prophet and mouthpiece of
+the infinite intelligence, ruler of justice, peace, and love! So be it
+forever!
+
+Chick read it a second time. Like all prophecies, it was somewhat
+Delphic; but he could get the general drift. In that golden script he
+was looking into the heart of all Thomahlia--into its greatness, its
+culture, its civilisation itself. It was the soul of the Blind Spot, the
+reason and the wherefore of all about him.
+
+He heard someone step up behind him, and he turned. It was the Senestro,
+going over the words of the prophecy.
+
+"Can you read it, Sir Phantom?" asked the handsome Bar. His black eyes
+were twinkling with delight. "Have you read it all?"
+
+He put a hand on Chick's shoulder. It was a careless act, almost
+friendly. Either he had the heart of a devil or the chivalry of a
+paladin. He pointed to a line:
+
+"'The false ones. Them ye shall slay.'"
+
+"And if I were the false one, you would slay me?" asked Watson.
+
+"Aye, truly!" answered the splendid prince. "You are well made and
+good to look upon. I shall hold you in my arms; I shall hear your bones
+crack; it shall be sweeter music than that of the temple pheasants,
+who never sing but for the Jarados. I shall slay you upon the Spot, Sir
+Phantom!"
+
+Watson turned on his heel. The ethics of the Senestro were not of his
+own code. He was not afraid; he stood beside the Jan Lucar and gazed out
+into the body of the temple. As far as he could see, under and past the
+fourteen great pillars and right up to the far wall, the floor was a
+vast carpet of humanity.
+
+It was become dark. Presently a new kind of light began to glow far
+overhead, gradually increasing in strength until the whole place was
+suffused with a sun-like illumination. The Rhamda Geos began to speak.
+
+"In the last day, in the Day of Life. We have the substance of
+ourselves, and the words of the prophet. The Jarados has written his
+prophecy in letters of gold, for all to see. 'The false ones. Them ye
+shall slay.' It is the will of the Rhamdas that the great Bar Senestro
+shall try the proof of the occult. On this, the first of the Sixteen
+Days, the test shall be--on the Spot of Life!"
+
+He turned away. The Bar Senestro stripped off his jewels, his
+semi-armour, and stood clad in the manner of Watson. They advanced and
+met in the centre of the dais, two athletes, lithe, strong, handsome,
+their muscles aquiver with vitality and their skins silken with health.
+Champions of two worlds, to wrestle for truth!
+
+A low murmur arose, increasing until it filled the whole coliseum. The
+silver-bronze pheasants flitted above the heads of all, flashing like
+fragments of the spirit of light. And all of a sudden--
+
+One of them fluttered down and lit on Watson's shoulder.
+
+The murmur of the throng dropped to a dead silence. Next moment
+a stranger thing happened. The little creature broke forth in
+full-throated song.
+
+Watson instantly remembered the words of the Bar Senestro: "They sing
+but for the Jarados." He quietly reached up and caught the songster
+in his hand, and he held it up to the astonished crowd. Still the song
+continued. Chick held him an instant longer, and then gave him a toss
+high into the air. He shot across the temple, a streak of melody,
+silver, dulcet, to the far corner of the giant building.
+
+But the thing did not jar the Senestro.
+
+"Well done, Sir Phantom! Anyhow, 'tis your last play! I would not have
+it otherwise. I hope you can die as prettily! Are you ready?"
+
+"Ready? What for?" retorted Watson. "Why, should I trouble myself with
+preparations?"
+
+But the Rhamda Geos had now come to his side.
+
+"Do your best, my lord. I regret only that it must be to the death.
+It is the first death contest in the Thomahlia for a thousand circles
+(years). But the Senestro has challenged the prophecy. Prove that you
+are not a false one! My heart is with you."
+
+It was a good word at a needed moment. Watson stepped over onto the
+circular Spot of Life.
+
+They were both barefooted. Evidently the Thomahlians fought in the old,
+classic manner. The stone under Watson's feet was cool and invigorating.
+He could sense anew that quiver of magnetism and strength. It sent a
+thrill through his whole body, like the subtle quickening of life. He
+felt vital, joyous, confident.
+
+The Senestro was smiling, his eyes flashing with anticipation. His
+muscled body was a network of soft movement. His step was catlike.
+
+"What will it be?" inquired Watson. "Name your choice of destruction."
+
+But the Bar shook his head.
+
+"Not so, Sir Phantom. You shall choose the manner of your death, not I.
+Particular I am not, nor selfish."
+
+"Make it wrestling, then," in his most off-hand manner. He was a good
+wrestler, and scientific.
+
+"Good. Are you ready?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Very well, Sir Phantom. I shall walk to the edge of the Spot and turn
+around. I would take no unfair advantage. Now!"
+
+Chick turned at the same moment and strode to his edge. He turned,
+and it happened; just what, Chick never knew. He remembered seeing his
+opponent turn slowly about, and in the next split second he was spinning
+in the clutch of a tiger. Even before they struck the stone, Chick could
+feel the Senestro reaching for a death-hold.
+
+And in that one second Watson knew that he was in the grip of his
+master.
+
+His mind functioned like lightning. His legs and arms flashed for the
+counterhold that would save him. They struck the Spot and rolled over
+and over. Chick caught his hold, but the Senestro broke it almost
+instantly. Yet it had saved him; for a minute they spun around like a
+pair of whirligigs. Watson kept on the defensive. He had not the speed
+and skill of the other. It was no mere test to touch his shoulders;
+it was a fight to the death; he was at a disadvantage. He worked
+desperately.
+
+When a man fights for his life he becomes superhuman. Watson was put to
+something more than his skill; the sheer spirit of the Bar broke hold
+after hold; he was like lightning, panther-like, subtle, vicious. Time
+after time he spun Chick out of his defense and bore him down into
+a hold of death. And each time Chick somehow wriggled out, and saved
+himself by a new hold. The struggle became a blur--muscle, legs, the
+lust for killing--and hatred. Twice Watson essayed the offensive; first
+he got a hammer lock, and then a half-Nelson. The Bar broke both holds
+immediately.
+
+Whatever Chick knew of wrestling, the Senestro knew just a bit more. It
+was a whirling mass of legs and bodies in continuous convulsion,
+silent except for the terrible panting of the men, and the low, stifled
+exclamations of the onlookers.
+
+And then--
+
+Watson grew weak. He tried once more. They spun to their feet. But
+before he could act the Senestro had caught him in the same flying rush
+as in the beginning, and had whirled him off his feet. And when he came
+down the Bar had an unbreakable hold.
+
+Chick struggled in vain. The Bar tightened his grip. A spasm of pain
+shot through Chick's torso; he could feel his bones giving way. His
+strength was gone; he could see death. Another moment would have been
+the end.
+
+But something happened. The Senestro miraculously let go his hold. Chick
+felt something soft brush against his cheek. He heard a queer snapping,
+and shouts of wonder, and a dreadful choking sound from the Bar. He
+raised dizzily on one arm. His eyes cleared a bit.
+
+The great Bar was on his back; and at his throat was a snarling
+thing--the creature that Chick had seen in the clover leaf of the
+Jarados.
+
+It was a living dog.
+
+PAT MACPHERSON'S STORY
+
+To Watson it was all a blur. He was too weak and too broken to remember
+distinctly. He was conscious only of an uproar, of a torrent of
+multitudinous sound. And then--the deep, enveloping tone of a bell.
+
+Some time, somewhere, Chick had heard that bell before. In his present
+condition his memory refused to serve him. He was covered with blood; he
+tried to rise, to crawl to this snarling animal that was throttling the
+Senestro. But something seemed to snap within him, and all went black.
+
+When he opened his eyes again all had changed. He was lying on a couch
+with a number of people about. It was a minute before he recognized the
+Jan Lucar, then the Geos, and lastly the nurse whom he had first seen
+when he awoke in the Blind Spot. Evidently he was in the hands of his
+friends, although there was a new one, a red-headed man, clad in the
+blue uniform of a high Bar.
+
+He sat up. The nurse held a goblet of the green liquid to his lips. The
+Bar in blue turned.
+
+"Aye," he said. "Give him some of the liquor; it will do him good. It
+will put the old energy back in his bones."
+
+The voice rang oddly familiar in Watson's ears. The words were
+Thomahlian; not until Chick had drained his glass did he comprehend
+their significance.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+The Bar with the red hair grinned.
+
+"Whist, me lad," using Chick's own tongue. "Get rid of these
+Thomahlians. 'Tis a square game we're playin', but we're takin' no
+chances. Get 'em out of the way so we kin talk."
+
+Watson turned to the others. He made the request in his adopted tongue.
+They bowed, reverently, and withdrew.
+
+"Who are you?" Chick asked again.
+
+"Oi'm Pat MacPherson."
+
+"How did you get here?"
+
+The other sat on the edge of the bed. "Faith, how kin Oi tell ye? 'Twas
+a drink, sor; a new kind av a high-ball, th' trickery av a friend an'
+th' ould Witch av Endor put togither."
+
+Obviously Watson did not understand. The stranger continued: "Faith,
+sor, an' no more do Oi. There's no one as does, 'cept th' ould doc
+hisself."
+
+"The old doc! You mean Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+Watson sat up in his bed. "Where is he?"
+
+"In a safe place, me lad. Dinna fear for th' doctor. 'Twas him as saved
+ye--him an' your humble sarvant, Pat MacPherson, bedad."
+
+"He--and you--saved me?"
+
+"Aye--there on th' Spot of Life. A bit of a thrick as th' ould doc dug
+oot o' his wisdom. Sure, she dinna work jist loike he said it, but 'twas
+a plenty t' oopset th' pretty Senestro!"
+
+Watson asked, "What became of the Senestro?"
+
+"Sure, they pulled him oot. Th' wee doggie jist aboot had him done for.
+Bedad, she's a good pup!"
+
+"What kind of a dog?"
+
+"A foine wan, sor, wit a bit stub av a tail. An' she's that intelligent,
+she kin jist about talk Frinch. Th' Thomahlians all called her th'
+Four-footed, an' if they kape on, they'll jist aboot make her th' Pope."
+
+Watson was still thick headed. "I don't understand!"
+
+"Nor I laddie. But th' ould doc does. He's got a foine head for figgers;
+and' he's that scientific, he kin make iron oot o' rainbows."
+
+"Iron out of--what?"
+
+"Rainbows, sor. Faith, 'tis meself thot's seen it. And he's been
+watchin' over ye ever since ye came. 'Twas hisself, lad, that put it
+into your head t' call him th' Jarados."
+
+"You don't mean to say that the professor put those impulses into my
+head!"
+
+"Aye, laddie; you said it. He kin build up a man's thoughts just
+like you or me kin pile oop lumber. 'Tis that deep he is wit' th'
+calculations!"
+
+Watson tried to think. There was just one superlative question now. He
+put it.
+
+"I dinna know if he's th' Jarados," was the reply. "But if so be not,
+then he's his twin brother, sure enough."
+
+"Is he a prisoner?"
+
+"I wouldna say that, though there's them as think so. But if it be
+anybody as is holdin' him, 'tis the Senestro an' his gang o' guards."
+
+Watson looked at the other's uniform, at the purple shako on his
+head, the jewelled weapon at his side, and the Jaradic leaf on his
+shoulder--insignia of a Bar of the highest rank.
+
+"How does it come that you're a Bar, and a high one at that?"
+
+The other grinned again. He took off his shako and ran his hand through
+his mop of red hair.
+
+"'Tis aither th' luck of th' Irish, me lad, or of th' Scotch. Oi don't
+ken which--Oi'm haff each--but mostly 'tis th' virtoo av me bonny red
+hair."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because, leastways, in th' Thomahlia, there's always a dhrop av royalty
+in th' red-headed. Me bonnie top-knot has made me a fortune. Ye see,
+'tis th' mark av th' royal Bars themselves; no ithers have it."
+
+Watson said: "If you have come from Dr. Holcomb, then you must have a
+message from him to me."
+
+"Ye've said it; you an' me, an' a few Rhamdas, an' mebbe th' wee queen
+is goin' t' take a flight in th' June Bug. We're goin' afther th' ould
+doc; an' ye kin bet there'll be as pretty a scrap as ever ye looked
+on. An' afther thot's all over, we're goin' t' take anither kind of a
+flight--into good old Frisco."
+
+Chick instantly asked Pat if he knew where San Francisco might be.
+
+"Faith, 'tis only th' ould doc knows, laddie. But when we git there,
+'tis Pat MacPherson that's a goin' for Toddy Maloney."
+
+"I don't know that name."
+
+"Bedad, I do. Him it was thot give me th' dhrink."
+
+"What drink?"
+
+Th' dhrink thot done it. Twas a new kind av cocktail. Ye see, I'd jist
+got back from Melbourne, an' I was takin' in th' lights that noight,
+aisy like, whin I come t' Toddy's place. I orders a dhrink av whuskey.
+
+"'Whist, Pat,' says he, 'ye don't want whuskey; 'twill make ye dhrunk.
+Why don't ye take somethin' green, like th' Irish?'
+
+"'Green," says I. ''Tis a foine colour. I dinna fear anything thot comes
+fra' a bottle. Pass'er oot!'
+
+"An' thot he did. 'Twas 'creme de menthay' on th' bottle. 'An',' says
+he, ''Twon't make ye dhrunk.' But he was a liar, beggin' yer pardin.
+
+"For by an' by Oi see his head a growin' larger an' larger, until Oi
+couldn't see annything but a few loights on th' cailing, an' a few
+people on th' edges, loike. An' afther thot Oi wint oot, an' walked
+till Oi come to a hill. An' there was a moon, an' a ould hoose standin'
+still, which th' moon was not. So Oi stood still to watch it, but bein'
+tired an' weary an' not havin' got rid o' me sea-legs, Oi sat me doon
+on th' steps av th' hoose for a bit av a rest, an' t' watch th' moon,
+thinkin' mebbe she'd stand still by an' by.
+
+"Well, sor, Oi hadn't been there more'n three 'r four minits, whin th'
+door opened, an' oot steps a little ould lady, aboot th' littlest an'
+ouldest Oi iver see in 'Frisco.
+
+"'Good avenin', Mother Machree,' says Oi, touchin' me hat.
+
+"'Mother Machree!' says she, an' gives me a sharp look. Also she sniffs.
+'Ye poor man,' says she. 'Ye'll catch yer death o' cold, out here. Ye
+better coom in an' lie on me sofy.'
+
+"Now, sor, how was Oi to ken, bein' a sailor an' ingorant? She was only
+a ould lady, an' withered. How was Oi to ken thot she was th' ould Witch
+o' Endor?"
+
+Watson's memory was at work on what he knew of the house at Chatterton
+Place, especially regarding its occupants at the beginning of the Blind
+Spot mystery. The Bar's old remark caught his attention.
+
+"The Witch of Endor?"
+
+"Aye; thot she were. Whin Oi woke up, there was nary a hoose at all, nor
+th' ould lady, nor Toddy Maloney's, nor 'Frisco. 'Twas a strange place I
+was, sor; a church loike St. Peter's, only bigger, th' same bein' harrd
+to belaive. An' th' columns looked loike waterspoots, an' th' sky above
+was full av clouds, the same bein' jest aboot ready to break into hell
+an' tempest. But ye've been there yerself, sor.
+
+"Well, here was a man beside me, dressed in a kilt. An' he spakes a
+strange language, although Oi could undershtand; and' he says, says he:
+
+"'My lord,' was what he says.
+
+"'My lord!' says Oi. 'Oi dinna ken what ye mane at all, at all.'
+
+"'Are ye not a Bar?' says he.
+
+"'Thot Oi am not!' says Oi, spakin' good English, so's to be sure he'd
+understand. 'Oi'm Pat MacPherson.'
+
+"But he couldn' ken. Thin we left th' temple an' wint out into the
+street. An' a great crowd of people came aroun' an' began shoutin'. By
+an' by we wint into anither buildin'.
+
+"'For why sh'd iverybody look at me whin we crossed th' street jest
+noo?' I asked.
+
+"'Tis y'r clothes,' says he.
+
+"Now, Oi don't enjoy pooblicity, sor; wherefore th' wily Scotch in me
+told me what to do, an' th' Irish part of me did it. I stood him on his
+head, an' took his clothes off an' put them on meself. An' then no one
+noticed me. Thot is, until Oi took me hat off."
+
+"You mean, that shako?"
+
+"Yis; th' blaemd heavy thing--'tis made o' blue feathers. Well, whin it
+got so hot it made me scalp sweat, Oi took it off; an' then they called
+me--'My lord' an' 'your worship,' jest loike Oi were a king.
+
+"'Pray God,' says Oi, 'that me head dinna get bald.'
+
+"Well, sor, Oi had a toime that was fit for th' Irish. Oi did iverything
+'cept git drunk; there was nothin' to git drunk with. But afther a while
+I ran across anither, wit' jest as red hair as I had. He was a foine
+man, av coorse, an' all surrounded by blue guards. He took me into a
+room himself an' begin askin' questions.
+
+"An' I lied, sor. Av coorse, 'twas lucky thot Oi had me Scotch larnin'
+an' caution to guide me; but whin Oi spoke, Oi wisely let th' Irishman
+do all th' talkin'. An' th' great Bar liked me.
+
+"'Verily,' says he, most solemnly, 'thou art of th' royal Bars!' An' he
+made me a high officer, he did."
+
+"Was he the Bar Senestro?" asked Watson.
+
+"Nay; 'twas a far better man--Senestro's brother, that died not long
+after. When Oi saw th' Senestro, Oi had sinse enough to kape me mouth
+shut. An' now Oi'm a high Bar--next to th' Senestro hisself! What's
+more, sor, there's no one alive kens th' truth but yerself an' th' ould
+doctor."
+
+It was a queer story, but in the light of all that had gone before,
+wonderfully convincing. Watson began to see light breaking through the
+darkness. "Now there are two," the old lady at 288 Chatterton Place
+had said to Jerome, when the detective came looking for the vanished
+professor. Had she referred to Holcomb and MacPherson? Two had gone
+through the Blind Spot, and two had come out--the Rhamda Avec and the
+Nervina. "Now there are two," she had said.
+
+"Tell me a little more about Holcomb, Pat!"
+
+"'Tis a short story. Oi can't tell ye much, owin' to orders from the
+old gent hisself. He came shortly after th' death of the first Bar,
+Senestro's brother. Seems there was some rumpus aboot th' old Rhamda
+Avec, which same Oi always kept away from--him as was goin' to prove th'
+spirits! Annyhow, we was guardin' th' temple awaitin' th' spook as was
+promised. An' thot's how we got th' ould doc.
+
+"But th' Rhamdas niver saw him. Th' Senestro double-crossed 'em, an'
+slipped th' doctor oop to th' Palace av Light."
+
+"The Palace of--what?"
+
+"The Palace av light, sor. Tis th' home av th' Jarados. 'twas held
+always holy by th' Thomahlians; no man dared go within miles av it;
+since the Jarados was here, t'ousands of years ago, no one at all has
+been inside av it.
+
+"But the Senestro knew that th' doctor was th' real Jarados, at least he
+t'ought so; an' he wasna afraid o' him. He's na coward, th' Senestro.
+He put th' doctor in th' Jarados' home! Only th' Prophecy worries him at
+all."
+
+At last Watson was touching firm ground. Things were beginning to link
+up--the Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados.
+
+"Well, sor, we Bars have kept th' ould doctor prisoner there iver since
+he come, wit' none save me to give him a wee bit word av comfort. But it
+dinna hurt th' old gent. Whin he finds all them balls an' rainbows an'
+eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything else; he's contint wit 'his
+discovery. 'Tis th' wise head th' doctor has; an' Oi make no doobt he's
+th' real Jarados."
+
+The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of Chick's
+coming from the beginning. He immediately called in MacPherson and gave
+him some orders, or rather directions, which the Irishman could not
+understand. He knew only that he was to go to the Temple of the Leaf and
+there touch certain objects in a certain way; also, he was to arrange to
+get near Chick, and give him a word of cheer.
+
+"But it dinna work as he said it, sor; he had expected to catch th'
+Senestro. Instead, 'twas th' dog got th' Bar. A foine pup, sor; she
+saved yer loife."
+
+"Where's the dog now?"
+
+"She's on th' Spot av Life, sor. She willna leave it. Tis a strange
+thing to see how she clings to it. Th' Rhamdas only come near enough to
+feed her."
+
+Thus Chick learned that, as soon as he got well, he and MacPherson were
+to seek the doctor, and help him to get away with the secrets he had
+found, the truths behind the mystery of the Spot.
+
+"An' 'tis a glorious fight there'll be, lad. Th' Senestro's a game wan;
+he'll not give up, an' he'll not let go th' doctor till he has to."
+
+This was not unwelcome news to Chick. A battle was to his liking.
+It reminded him of the automatic pistol which he still had in his
+pocket--the gun he had not thought to use in his desperate struggle with
+the Bar Senestro.
+
+"Pat," said he, with a sudden inspriation, "when you came through, did
+you have a firearm?"
+
+MacPherson reached into his pocket and silently produced a thirty-two
+calibre pistol, of another make than Chick's but using the same
+ammunition. From another pocket he drew out a package carefully bound
+with thread. He unrolled the contents. It was an old clay pipe!
+
+"Oi came through," he stated plaintively, "wit' two guns; an' nary a bit
+av powder for ayther!"
+
+Chick smiled. He searched his own pockets. First he handed over his
+extra magazine full of cartridges, and then a full package of smoking
+tobacco.
+
+"Wirra, wirra!" shouted MacPherson. "Faith, an' there's powder for
+both!" His hands shook as he hurried to cram the old pipe full of
+tobacco. The cartridges could wait. He struck a light and gave a deep
+sigh of content as he began to puff.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+THE HOME OF THE JARADOS
+
+
+Chick had been grievously hurt in the contest with the Senestro, but
+thanks to the Rhamdas he came round rapidly. It was a matter of less
+than a week.
+
+Things were coming to a climax; Chick needed no lynx's eye to see
+that the die had been cast between the Bars and the Rhamdas. Soon the
+Senestro must make a bold move, or else release the professor.
+
+Chick had not long to wait. It came one evening. Once again he found
+himself in the June Bug, accompanied by the Geos, the Jan Lucar,
+and--the little Aradna herself. Their departure was swift and secret.
+
+This time Watson was not worried over height, or any other sensation of
+flight. The doctor's safety alone was of moment. He said to the Rhamda:
+
+"Are we alone? Where is the Bar MacPherson?"
+
+"He is somewhere near; we are not alone, my lord. Several other machines
+are flying nearby also; they carry many of the Rhamdas and the crimson
+guard of the queen. The MacPherson will arrive first. We are going
+straight to the Palace of Light, my lord."
+
+"Are we to storm the place?" thinking of the fight MacPherson had
+predicted.
+
+"Yes, my lord. Many shall die; but it cannot be helped. We must free the
+Jarados, although we commit sacrilege."
+
+"But--the Senestro?"
+
+"That depends, my lord. We know not just what may be done." He gave no
+explanation.
+
+They had climbed to a tremendous height. The indicator showed that they
+were bearing east. The darkness was modified only by the faint glow from
+that star-dusted sky. Looking down, Chick could see nothing whatever.
+His companions kept silence; only the Aradna, sitting forward by the
+side of Jan Lucar showed any perturbation. They climbed higher and
+higher still, until it seemed that they must leave the Thomahlia
+altogether. Always the course was eastward. At last the Jan said to the
+Geos:
+
+"We are now over the Region of Carbon, sir. Shall I risk the light? His
+lordship might like to see."
+
+"Follow your own judgment."
+
+"Oh," exclaimed the Aradna; "do it by all means! There is nothing so
+wonderful as that!"
+
+The Jan touched a small lever. Instantly a shaft of light cut down
+through the blackness. Far, far below it ended in a patch on the ground.
+Watson eagerly followed its movements as it searched from side to side,
+seeking he knew not what. And then--
+
+There was a flash of inverted lightning, a flame of white fire, a
+blinding, stabbing scintillation of a million coruscations. Watson
+clapped a hand to his eyes, to cut off the sight. It was stunning.
+
+"What is it?" he cried.
+
+"Carbon," answered the Geos, calmly.
+
+"Carbon! You mean--diamond?"
+
+"Yes, my lord. So it interests you? I did not know. Later you shall see
+it under more favourable conditions." Then, to the Jan: "Enough."
+
+Once again they were in darkness. For some minutes silence was again the
+rule. Watson watched the red dot moving across the indicator, noting its
+approach to a three cornered figure on one edge. Suddenly there appeared
+another dot; then another, and another. Some came from below, others
+from above; presently there were a score moving in close formation.
+
+"They are all here," said the Jan to the Geos.
+
+The other nodded, and explained to Chick: "It's the Rhamdas and the
+Crimson guards. The MacPherson is just ahead. We shall arrive in three
+minutes."
+
+And after a pause he stated that the ensuing combat would mark the
+first spilling of blood between the Bars and the Rhamdas. At a pinch the
+Senestro might even kill the Jarados, to gain his ends. "His wish is his
+only law, my lord."
+
+The red dots began to descend toward the three-cornered figure. One
+minute passed, and another; then one more, and the June Bug landed.
+
+With scarcely a sound the Lucar brought the craft to a full stop. In a
+moment he was assisting the Aradna to alight. As for the Geos, he took
+from the machine two objects, which he held out to the Aradna and to
+Chick.
+
+"Put these on. The rest of us fight as we are."
+
+They were cloaks, made of a soft, light, malleable glass, or something
+like it. Watson asked what they were for.
+
+"For a purpose known only to the Jarados, my lord. There are only two of
+these robes. With them he left directions which indicated plainly they
+are for your lordship and the Aradna."
+
+Wondering, Chick helped the Aradna don her garment and then slipped
+into his own. Nevertheless, he pinned more faith in the automatic in his
+pocket. He did not make use of the hood which was intended to cover his
+head.
+
+"Pardon me," spoke the queen. She reached over and extended the hood
+till it protected his skull. "Please wear it that way, for my sake.
+Nothing must happen to you now!"
+
+Chick obeyed with only an inward demur. What puzzled him most was the
+isolation. Seemingly they were quite alone; there was nothing, no one,
+to oppose them.
+
+But he had merely taken something for granted. He, being from the earth,
+had assumed that strife meant noise. It was only when the Aradna caught
+him by the arm, and whispered for him to listen, that he understood.
+
+It was like a breeze, that sound. To be more precise, it was like the
+heavy passage of breath, almost uninterrupted, coming from all about
+them. And presently Chick caught a queer odour.
+
+"What is it?" he breathed in the Aradna's ear.
+
+"It is death," she answered. "Cannot you hear them--the deherers?"
+
+She did not explain; but Watson knew that he was in the midst of
+a battle which was fought with noiseless and terribly efficient
+weapons--so efficient that there were no wounded to give voice to pain.
+Before he could ask a question a familiar voice sounded out of the
+darkness at his side.
+
+"Where is the Geos?"
+
+"Here, Bar MacPherson," answered the Rhamda.
+
+"Good! It is well you came, sir. We were discovered a few minutes ago;
+already we have lost many men. Just give us the lights, so that we
+can get at them! It is a waste of men, with the advantage all on their
+side."
+
+Then, lapsing into English for Chick's benefit: "'Tis welcome ye are!
+Ivery mon helps, how."
+
+"What are these sounds? You say they are fighting?"
+
+"'Tis the deherers ye hear, lad. They fight with silent guns. Don't let
+'em hit ye, or ye'll be a pink pool in the twinklin' of yer eyelid. 'Tis
+no joke.
+
+"Are they more powerful than firearms?"
+
+"I dinna say, lad. But they're th' devil's own weapon for fightin'."
+
+Chick did not answer--he had heard a low command from the Geos. Next
+instant the space before them was illuminated by clear white light, in
+the form of a circle--bright as day. In the centre shimmered an object
+like a mist of blue flame, a nimbus of dazzling, actinic lightning.
+There was no sign of man or life, no suggestion of sound--nothing but
+the nimbus, and the brilliant space about it. The whole phenomenon
+measured perhaps three hundred feet across.
+
+They were in darkness. Chick took a step forward, but he was held back
+by MacPherson.
+
+"Nay, lad; would ye be dyin' so soon? 'Tis fearful quick. See--"
+
+He did not finish. A red line of soldiers had rushed straight out of the
+blackness into the circle of light. It seemed that they were charging
+the nimbus. They were stooping now, discharging their queer weapons;
+about three hundred of them--an inspiring sight. They charged in
+determined silence.
+
+Then--Watson blinked. The line disappeared; the thing was like a
+miracle. It took time for Chick to realise that he was looking upon
+the "pink death" MacPherson had warned him against--the work of the
+deherers, whatever the word meant. For where had been a column of
+gallant guards there was now only a broad stream of pink liquid
+trickling over the ground. It was annihilation itself--too quick to
+be horrible--inexorable and instantaneous. Chick involuntarily placed
+himself in front of the Aradna.
+
+"The blue thing in the middle," observed the Irishman, coolly, "is th'
+Palace av Light; 'tis held by th' Senestro jest now. An' all we got to
+do is get th' ould doc out."
+
+"But I see no building!"
+
+"'Tis there jest the same. Ye'll see it whin th' doctor gits time off
+his rainbows. 'Tis absent-minded he gets when he's on a problem, which
+same is mostly always, sor. We stay roight here till he gets ready to
+drop on th' Senestro."
+
+Watson waited. He knew enough now to cling to the shadow, there with
+MacPherson, the Geos, and the Aradna. In the centre of the great
+light-circle the nimbus of blue stood out like a vibrating haze, while
+all about, in the darkness, could be heard the weird sound made by the
+passage of life.
+
+"When will the Jarados act?" inquired the Geos of the Irishman. But he
+got no reply. MacPherson spoke to Watson: "Get yer gun ready, lad; get
+yer gun ready! Look--'tis th' ould boy himself, now! I wonder what the
+Senestro thinks of that?"
+
+For the nimbus had suddenly dissolved, and in its place there appeared
+one of the quaintest, yet most beautiful buildings that Watson had ever
+seen. It was a three-cornered structure, low-set, and of unspeakably
+dazzling magnificence; a building carved and chiselled from solid
+carbon. Chick momentarily forgot the doctor.
+
+In front of it stood a line of Blue Guards, headed by the Senestro.
+Their confusion showed that something altogether unexpected had
+happened. They were ducking here and there, seemingly bewildered by the
+sudden vanishing of that protecting blue dazzle. The Senestro was trying
+to restore order; and in a moment he succeeded. He led the way toward a
+low, triangular platform, at the entrance--a single white door--to the
+palace.
+
+Pat MacPherson's automatic flashed and barked. Next instant Watson
+was in action. The Bar next to the Senestro staggered, then collapsed
+against his chieftain. Another rolled against his feet, causing him
+to stumble; an act that probably saved his life, for the platform in a
+second was covered with writhing, bleeding, dying Bars.
+
+The Senestro managed to reach the doorway. MacPherson cursed.
+
+"Come on!" he yelled to Watson. "Well git him alive!" Watson remembered
+little of that rush. There stood the great Bar at the doorway,
+surrounded by his dying and panic-stricken men. The cloak given Chick by
+the Geos impeded his progress; with a quick movement he threw it off and
+ran unprotected alongside the Irishman. The Blue guards saw them coming;
+they levelled their weapons. But before they could discharge them they
+met the same fate as had the Reds. A tremor in the air, and they were
+gone, leaving only a pink pool on the ground.
+
+Senestro alone remained untouched. He was about to open the white door;
+for a second he posed, defiant and handsome. Then the great Bar ducked
+swiftly and almost with the same motion dodged into the building. Chick
+and Pat were right after him.
+
+Inside was darkness. Chick ran head on against the side wall; turning,
+he bumped into another. The sudden transition from brilliance
+to blackness was overwhelming. He stopped and felt about
+carefully--momentarily blind. What if the Senestro found him now?
+
+He called MacPherson's name. There was no reply. He tried to feel his
+way along, finding the wall irregular, jagged, sharp cornered. But the
+way must lead somewhere. He reached a turn in the passage; it was
+still too dark for him to see anything. He proceeded more cautiously,
+wondering at those craggy walls. And then--
+
+Chick slapped his hands to his eyes. It was as if he had been shot into
+the core of the sun--the obsidian darkness flashed into light--a light
+beyond all enduring. Chick staggered, and cried in pain. And yet, reason
+told him just what it was, just what had happened. It was the carbon; he
+was in the heart of the diamond; the Senestro had led him on and on, and
+then--had flashed some intense light upon the vast jewel. Watson knew
+the terrible helplessness of the blind. His end had come!
+
+And so it seemed. Next instant someone came up to him--someone he could
+hear if he could not see. It was the Senestro.
+
+"Hail, Sir Phantom! Pardon my abrupt manner of welcome. I suppose you
+have come for the Jarados?" And he laughed, a laugh full of mockery and
+triumph. "Perhaps you think I intend to kill you?"
+
+Watson said no word. He had been outwitted. He awaited the end. But the
+Senestro saw fit to say, with an irony that told how sure he was:
+
+"However, I am opposed to killing in cold blood. Open your eyes, Sir
+Phantom! I will give you time--a fair chance. What do you say--shall we
+match weapon against weapon?"
+
+Watson slowly opened his eyes. The blinding light had dimmed to a soft
+glow. They were in a sort of gallery whose length was uncertain;
+between him and the outlet, about ten feet away, stood the confident,
+ever-smiling Bar.
+
+"You or I," said he, jauntily. "Are you ready to try it? I have given
+you a fair chance!"
+
+He raised his dagger-like weapon, as though aiming it. At the same
+instant Chick pulled the trigger from the hip, snap aim.
+
+The gun was empty.
+
+Another second, and Watson would have been like those spots of colour
+on the ground outside. He breathed a prayer to his Maker. The Senestro's
+weapon was in line with his throat.
+
+But it was not to be. There came a flash and a stunning report; the
+deherer clattered against the wall, and the Senestro clutched a stinging
+hand. He was staring in surprise at something behind Chick--something
+that made him turn and dart out of sight.
+
+Chick wheeled.
+
+Right behind him stood the familiar form of the Jan Lucar; and a few
+feet beyond, a figure from which came a clear, cool, nonchalant voice;
+
+"I would have killed that fellow, Chick, but he's too damned handsome.
+I'm going to save him for a specimen."
+
+Watson peered closer. He gave a gasp, half of amazement, half of
+delight. For the words were in English, and the voice--
+
+It was Harry Wendel.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+DR. HOLCOMB'S STORY
+
+
+If there was the least doubt in Chick's mind that this was really Harry,
+it was dispelled by the sight of the person who the next moment stepped
+up to his side. It was none other than the Nervina.
+
+"Harry Wendel!" gasped Watson. It was too good to be true!
+
+"Surest thing you know, Chick. It's me, alive and kicking!" as they
+grabbed one another.
+
+"How did you get here?"
+
+"Search me! Ask the lady; I'm just a creature of circumstance. I merely
+act; she does all the thinking."
+
+The Nervina smiled and nodded. Her eyes were just as wonderful as
+Chick remembered them, full of elusiveness, of the moonbeam's light, of
+witchery past understanding.
+
+"Yes," she affirmed. "You see, Mr. Watson, it is the will of the
+Prophet. Harry is of the Chosen. We have come for the great Dr.
+Holcomb--for the Jarados!"
+
+And she led the way. Watson followed in silent wonder; behind him came
+the Geos and the rest, quiet and reverent. The soft glow still held, so
+that they seemed to be walking through the walls of cold fire. At the
+end of the passage they came to a door.
+
+The Nervina touched three unmarked spots on the walls. The door opened.
+The queen stood aside, and motioned for Chick and Harry to enter.
+
+It was a long room, pear-shaped, and fitted up like the most elaborate
+sort of laboratory. And at the far end, seated in the midst of a strange
+array of crystals, retorts and unfamiliar apparatus, was a man whom the
+two instantly recognised.
+
+It was the missing professor, looking just as they remembered him from
+the days when they sat in his class in Berkeley. There was the same trim
+figure, the same healthy cheeks, pleasant eyes and close-cropped
+white beard. Always there had been something imperturbable about the
+doctor--he had that poise and equanimity which is ever the balance of
+sound judgment. Neither Chick nor Harry expected any rush of emotion,
+and they were not disappointed.
+
+Holcomb rose to his feet, revealing on the table before him a queer,
+dancing light which he had been studying. He touched something; the
+light vanished, and simultaneously there came an unnameable change in
+the appearance of certain of those puzzling crystals. The doctor stepped
+forward, hand extended, smiling; surely he did not look or act like a
+prisoner.
+
+"Well, well," spoke he; "at last! Chick Watson and Harry Wendel! You're
+very welcome. Was it a long journey?"
+
+His eyes twinkled in the old way. He didn't wait for their replies. He
+went on:
+
+"Have we solved the Blind Spot? It seems that my pupils never desert me.
+Let me ask: have you solved the Blind Spot?"
+
+"We've solved nothing, professor. What we have come for is, first,
+yourself; and second, for the secrets you have found. It is for us to
+ask--what is the Blind Spot?"
+
+The professor shook his head.
+
+"You were always a poor guesser, Mr. Wendel. Perhaps Chick, now--"
+
+"Put me down as unprepared," answered Chick. "I'm like Harry--I want to
+know!"
+
+"Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix," laughed Holcomb. "We,
+who know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still more! It
+may be, after all, that we know very little; even though we have solved
+the problem." His eyes twinkled again, aggravatingly.
+
+"Tell us, then!" from Harry, on impulse as always. "What is the Blind
+Spot?"
+
+But Holcomb shook his head. "Not just now, Harry; we have company."
+The Geos and the Jan had entered. "Besides, I am not quite ready. There
+remain several tangles to be unravelled."
+
+As he shook hands with the Geos, he spoke in the Thomahlian tongue. "You
+are more than welcome."
+
+The Rhamda bent low in reverence and awe. His voice was hushed. He
+spoke:
+
+"Art thou the Jarados, my lord?"
+
+"Aye," stated the doctor. "I am he; I am the Jarados!"
+
+It was a stagger for both young men. Neither could reconcile the great
+professor of his schooldays with this strange, philosophic prophet of
+the occult Thomahlians. What was the connection? What was the fate that
+was leading, urging, compelling it all?
+
+"Professor, you will pardon our eagerness. Both Harry and I have had
+adventures, without understanding what it was all about. Can't you
+explain? Where are we? And--why?" And then:
+
+"Your lecture on the Blind Spot! You promised it to us--can you deliver
+it now?"
+
+The professor smiled his acknowledgement.
+
+"Part of it," he said; "enough to answer your questions to some extent.
+Had I stayed in Berkeley I could have delivered it all, but"--and he
+laughed--"I know a whole lot more, now; and, paradoxically, I know far
+less! First let me speak to the Geos." He learned that the struggle
+outside had terminated successfully for the Rhamda and his men. All was
+quiet. The Senestro had made his escape in safety back to the Mahovisal.
+The doctor ordered that he was not to be molested.
+
+The Geos and the others left the room, escorting the Aradna, who was
+too exhausted for further experiences. There remained with the doctor,
+Chick, Harry, and the Nervina.
+
+"I will reduce that lecture to synopsis form," began the professor. "I
+shall tell you all that I know, up to this moment. First, however, let
+me show you something."
+
+He indicated the table from which he had risen. Chief among the objects
+on its top were fragments of minerals, some familiar, some strange.
+Above and on all sides were the crystal globes or, at least, what Chick
+named as such--erected upon as many tripods. One of these the professor
+moved toward the table.
+
+Simultaneously a tiny dot appeared on a small metal plate in the centre
+of the table. At first almost invisible, it grew, after a minute or so,
+to a definite bit of matter.
+
+The professor moved the tripod away. Nearby crystals, inside of
+which some dull lights had leaped into momentary being, subsided into
+quiescence. And the three observers looked again and again at the solid
+fragment of material that had grown before their eyes on that table.
+
+Something had been made out of nothing!
+
+The doctor picked it up and held it unconcernedly in his fingers.
+
+"Can anybody tell me," asked he, "what this is?"
+
+There was no answer. The professor tossed the thing back on the table.
+It gave forth a sharp, metallic sound.
+
+"You are looking at ether," spoke he. "It is the ether itself--nothing
+else. You call it matter; others would call it iron; but those are
+merely names. I call it ether in motion--materialised force-coherent
+vibration.
+
+"Like everything else in the universe it answers to a law. It has its
+reason--there is no such thing as chance. Do you follow? That fragment
+is simply a principle, allowed to manifest itself through a natural law!
+
+"Try to follow me. All is out of the ether--all! Variety in matter is
+simply a question of varying degrees of electronic activity, depending
+upon a number of ratios. Life itself, as well as materiality and force,
+comes out of the all-pervading ether.
+
+"This object here," touching the crystal, "is merely a conductor. It
+picks up the ether and sends it through a set degree of vibrational
+activity. Result? It makes iron!
+
+"If you wish you may go back to our twentieth century for a parallel--by
+which I mean, electricity. It is gathered crudely; but the time will
+come when it will be picked up out of the air in precisely the same
+manner that men pick hydrocarbons out of petroleum, or as I sift the
+desired quality of ether through that globe.
+
+"This, I am convinced, is one of the fundamental secrets of the Blind
+Spot. Is there any question?"
+
+Wendel managed to put one.
+
+"You said, 'back in the twentieth century.' Is it a question of time
+displacement, sir?"
+
+"Suppose we forgo that point at present. You will note, however, that
+the Thomahlian world is certainly far in advance of our own."
+
+"Professor," asked Watson, "is it the occult?"
+
+"Ah," brightening; "now we are getting back to the old point. However,
+what is the occult?" He paused; then--"Did it ever occur to you, that
+the occult might prove to be the real world, proving that life we have
+known to be merely a shadow?"
+
+Silence greeted this. The professor went on:
+
+"Let me ask you: Are you living in a real world now, or an unreal one?"
+There was no response. "It is, of course, a reality; just as truly as if
+you were in San Francisco. So," very distinctly, "perhaps it is merely a
+question of viewpoint, as to which is the occult!"
+
+"Just what we want to know," from Harry.
+
+"And that," tossing up his hands, "is exactly what I cannot tell you.
+I have found out many things, but I cannot be sure. I left certainty in
+Berkeley.
+
+"Today I feel that there is some great fate, some unknown force that
+defies analysis, defies all attempts at resolution--a force that is
+driving me through the role of the Jarados. We are all a part of the
+Prophecy!
+
+"We must wait for the last day for our answer. That Prophecy must and
+will be fulfilled. And on that day we shall have the key to the Blind
+Spot--we shall know the where of the occult."
+
+He took a sip from a tumbler of the familiar green fluid.
+
+"Now that I have told you this much, I am going back to the beginning.
+I, too, have had adventures.
+
+"How did I come to discover the Blind Spot?
+
+"It was about one year prior to my last lecture at the university. At
+the time I had been doing much psychic-research work, all of which you
+know. And out of it I had adduced some peculiar theories. For example:
+
+"Undoubtedly there is such a thing as a spirit world. If all the mediums
+but one were dishonest, and that one produced the results that couldn't
+be explained away by psychology, then we must admit the existence of
+another world.
+
+"But reason tells us that there is nothing but reality; that if there
+were a spirit world it must be just as real, just as substantial as
+our own. Moreover--somewhere, somehow, here must be a definite point of
+contact!
+
+"That was approximately my theory. Of course I had no idea how close I
+had come to a great truth. To some extent it was pure guesswork.
+
+"Then, one day Budge Kennedy brought me the blue stone. He told me its
+history, and he maintained that it was lighter than air, which of course
+I disbelieved until I took it out of the ring and saw for myself.
+
+"I went at once to the house at 288 Chatterton Place. There I found an
+old lady who had lived in the house for some time. I asked to see the
+cellar where the stone had been unearthed. Understand, I had no idea of
+the great discovery I was about to make; I merely wanted to see. And I
+found something almost as impossible as the blue stone itself-a
+green one, heavier than any known mineral, answering to no known
+classification but of an entirely new element. It was no larger than a
+pea, but of incredible weight.
+
+"Coming upstairs I found the old lady a bit perturbed. I had told her my
+name; she had recognised me as well.
+
+"'Come with me,' she said.
+
+"With that she opened a door. She was very old and very uncertain; yet
+she was scarcely afraid.
+
+"'In there," she said, and pointed through the door.
+
+"I entered an ordinary room, furnished as a parlour. There was a sofa, a
+table, a few chairs; little else.
+
+"'What do you mean?' I asked.
+
+"'The man!'
+
+"'The man! What man?"
+
+"'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was shining.
+He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a lad that's in
+need of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa. He was tired, you
+see, and--I once had a son of my own.'
+
+"She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could feel the
+pressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.
+
+"'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it! They
+took him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'
+
+"She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.
+
+"'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when--they took
+him! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and the moon--it
+was gone. And then--' She looked up at me again and whispered: 'And then
+I heard a bell--a very beautiful bell--a church bell, sir? But you know,
+don't you? You are the great Dr. Holcomb. That's why you went into the
+cellar, wasn't it? Because you know!'
+
+"Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:
+
+"'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good enough
+to leave me to myself?'
+
+"She closed the door after her. I had the green stone in my hand; it was
+very heavy, and I placed it on one of the chairs. The blue stone I
+still held. At the moment I hadn't the least notion of what was about to
+happen; it was all accident, from beginning to end.
+
+"All of a sudden the room disappeared! That is, the side wall; I was not
+looking at the dingy old wallpaper, but out through and into an immense
+building, dim, vast and immeasurable.
+
+"Directly in front of me was a white substance like a stone of snow.
+Upon this substance was seated a man, about my own age, as nearly as I
+could make out. He looked up just as I noted him.
+
+"Our recognition was mutual. Immediately he made a sign with one hand.
+And at once I took a step forward; I thought he had motioned. It was all
+so real and natural. Though his features were dim he could not have been
+more than ten feet distant. But, at that very instant, when I made that
+one step, the whole thing vanished.
+
+"I was still in the room at Chatterton Place!
+
+"That's what started it all. Had this occurred to any one else in the
+world I should have labelled it an unaccountable illusion. But it had
+happened to me.
+
+"I had my theory; between the spiritual and the material there must be a
+point of contact. And--I had found it! I had discovered the road to
+the Indies, to the Occult, to all that other men call unknowable. And I
+called it--
+
+"The Blind Spot."
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+THE ARADNA
+
+
+Thus had the professor got into actual touch with the occult--by sheer
+accident. Up to that time it had been only a hypothesis; now it was a
+fact. Next step was to open up direct communication.
+
+"That was difficult. To begin with, I worked to repeat the phenomena
+I had seen, getting some haphazard results from the start. My purpose
+throughout was to exchange intelligent comment with the individual I had
+beheld on that snow-stone within the Spot; and in the end I succeeded.
+
+"He gave me fairly explicit warning as to when the Blind Spot should
+open, not only to the eye, but in its entirety, as it had done for the
+young man of whom the old lady had told me. We agreed through signs that
+he would come through first.
+
+"Understand, up to the instant of his actual arrival, I didn't know just
+what he was like. I had to be content with his sign-talk, by which he
+assured me he was a real man, material, of life and the living.
+
+"I made my announcement. You know most of what followed. The Rhamda
+came to Berkeley; together we returned to Chatterton Place, for it
+was imperative that we hold the Spot open or at least maintain the
+phenomenon at such a point that we could reopen it at will. Both of us
+were guessing.
+
+"Neither of us knew, at the time, just how long the Rhamda could endure
+our atmosphere. He had risked his life to come through; it was no more
+than fair that I should accede to his caution and insure him a safe
+return to his own world.
+
+"But things went wrong. It was ignorance as much as accident. At
+Chatterton Place I was caught in the Blind Spot, and without a particle
+of preparation was tossed into the Thomahlia.
+
+"When I came through, the Nervina went out. Thus I found myself in this
+strange place with no one to guide me. And unfortunately, or rather,
+fortunately, I fell into the hands of the Bar Senestro.
+
+"Now, for all that he is a sceptic, the Senestro is a brave man; and
+like many another unbeliever, he has a sense of humour. My coming had
+been promised by Avec; so he knew that somehow I was a part of the
+Prophecy--the prophecy which, for reasons of his own, he did not want
+fulfilled.
+
+"So he isolated me here in the house of the Jarados. A bold sort of
+humor, I call it--to defy the Prophecy in the very spot where it was
+written!
+
+"But it was fortunate. I was in the house of the old prophet, with its
+stores of wisdom, secrets, raw elements and means for applying the laws
+of nature. All that I hitherto had only guessed at, I now had at my
+disposal: libraries, laboratories, everything. I was a recluse with no
+interruptions and perfect facility for study.
+
+"First of all I went into their philosophy. Then into their science,
+and afterwards into their history. Whereupon I made a rather startling
+discovery.
+
+"Apparently I AM THE JARADOS.
+
+"For my coming had been foretold almost to the hour. As I went on with
+the research I found many other points that seemed familiar. Plainly
+there was something that had led me into the Spot; and most certainly it
+was not mere chance. I became convinced that not merely my own destiny,
+but a higher, a transcendental fate was at stake.
+
+"In the course of time I became certain of this. Meanwhile I mastered
+most of the secrets of this palace--the wisdom of the ancient Jarados.
+Though a prisoner, I was the happiest of men--which I still remain. The
+Bars kept close watch over me, constantly changing their guard. And it
+was on one of those occasions that I found MacPherson.
+
+"Well, after MacPherson's coming I was pretty much my own master.
+I induced the Senestro to allow MacPherson to remain as a constant
+bodyguard. But I never told Pat what was what, except that some day we
+should extricate ourselves.
+
+"You may wonder why I did not open the Spot.
+
+"There were several reasons: First, in the nature of the phenomenon it
+must be opened only on the earth side, except on rare occasions when
+certain conditions are peculiarly favourable. That's why the Rhamda Avec
+could not do it alone; I know now that I should have imparted to him
+certain technicalities. I possessed two of the keys then; now, I know
+there are three.
+
+"And I have learned that each of these is a sinister thing.
+
+"The blue stone, for instance, is life, and it is male. Rather a
+sweeping and ambiguous statement; but you will comprehend it in the end.
+Were a man to wear it it would kill him, in time; but a woman can wear
+it with impunity.
+
+"Perhaps you will appreciate that statement better if you note what I
+have just done through the medium of that crystal. The blue gem is an
+inductor of the ether; in a sense, it is one of the anchors of the Spot
+of Life, or the Blind Spot--whatever we want to call it--the Spot of
+Contact.
+
+"The other two particles--the red and the green one--are respectively
+the Soul and the Material. Or, let us say, the etheric embryos of these
+essentials.
+
+"The three stones constitute an eternal trinity.
+
+"As for the substance of the Spot itself, that I cannot tell, just yet.
+But I do know that the whole truth will come out clear in the fulfilment
+of the Prophecy. I am convinced that it has translated Watson, and now
+Harry Wendel and the Nervina."
+
+"Can you control it?" asked Chick.
+
+"To a limited extent. I have been able to watch you ever since your
+coming. You did not know about Harry, but I saw him come--in the arms of
+the Nervina."
+
+The Nervina nodded.
+
+"It is so. I knew the Senestro. I was afraid that Harry would fall into
+his hands. I had previously endeavoured to have him give the jewel to
+Charlotte Fenton. I didn't trust the great Bar--"
+
+Harry interrupted, "Only because of her distrust of the Senestro did she
+decide to come through the Blind Spot with me. She knew what to do. As
+soon as we got here, she bundled me off, privately nursed me back to
+health if not strength, and when the time came rushed me up here at the
+last second to be in at the finish."
+
+Watson thought of the dog, Queen. She also had come through just in time
+to save his life. Did Harry know anything about her? When Wendel had
+related what he knew, Chick commented:
+
+"It's almighty strange, Harry. Everything works out to fit in exactly
+with that confounded Prophecy. Perhaps that accounts for your affinity
+for the Nervina; it is something beyond your control, or hers. We'll
+have to wait and see."
+
+There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full of
+Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself, was now
+issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the sixteen days,
+now very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas constantly alluded to
+as "the Day of Judgment."
+
+The Senestro went unmolested. Returning to the Mahovisal, he worked now
+to further the truths of the Prophecy.
+
+Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming from
+the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims' aircraft kept the
+air above the city constantly alive. There were days such as no man had
+ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to composure, gave evidence of the
+strain. The atmosphere was tense, charged with expectancy and hope. A
+whole world was coming to what it conceived as its judgment, and its
+end. And--the Spot of Life was the Blind Spot!
+
+At last the doctor summoned the two young men. It was night, and the
+June Bug was waiting. This time the Geos himself was at the controls.
+
+"We are going to the Mahovisal," spoke the doctor--"to the Temple of
+the Bell and Leaf. There is still something I must know before the
+Judgment." He was speaking English. "If we can bring the Prophecy
+to pass just so far, and no farther, we shall be able to extricate
+ourselves nicely. Anyway, I think we shall not return to the Palace of
+Light."
+
+He held a black leather case in his hand. He touched it with a finger.
+
+"If this little case and its contents get through the Blind Spot it
+will advance civilisation--our civilisation--about a thousand-fold. So
+remember: Whatever happens to me, be sure and remember this case! It
+must go through the Spot!"
+
+He said no more, but took his seat beside the Geos. The young men took
+the rear seats. In a short time they had crossed the great range of
+mountains and were hovering over the Mahovisal.
+
+There was no sound. Though the city was packed with untold millions, the
+tension was such that scarcely a murmur came out of the metropolis. The
+air was magnetic, charged, strained close to the breaking point; above
+all, the reverence for the Last Day, and the hope, rising, accumulating,
+to the final supreme moment.
+
+For the Sixteenth Day was now only forty-eight hours removed.
+
+Both Chick and Harry realised that their lives were at stake; the doctor
+had made that clear. In the last minute, in the final crisis, they must
+crowd their way through the Blind Spot. Only the professor knew how it
+was to be done.
+
+At the temple they found the Nervina and the Aradna waiting. The Jan
+Lucar was with them. The Geos had secured entrance by a side door. From
+it they could look out, themselves unobserved, over the entire building
+and upon the Spot of Life. The place was packed--thousands upon
+thousands of people, standing in silent awe and worship, one and all
+gazing toward the all-important Spot. There was no sound save the
+whisper of multitudinous breathing.
+
+Said Harry to Chick:
+
+"I see Queen up there!"
+
+Harry circled the group, and bounded up the great stairs. In a moment
+he was patting his dog's head. She looked up and wagged her tail to show
+her pleasure. But she was not effusive. Somehow she wasn't just like his
+old shepherd. She glanced at him, and then out at the concourse below,
+and lolled her tongue expectantly. Then she settled back into her place
+and resumed watch--exactly as any of her kind would have held guard over
+a band of sheep.
+
+The dog was serious. Afterward, Wendel said he had a dim notion that she
+was no longer a dog at all, but a mere instrument in the hand of Fate.
+
+"What's the matter, old girl?" he asked. "Don't you like 'em?"
+
+For answer she gave a low whine. She looked up again, and out into the
+throng; she repeated the whine, with a little whimper at the end.
+
+Harry returned to the others. Nothing was said of what he had done. At
+once the Geos led the group through a small, half-hidden door, beyond
+which was a narrow, winding stairway of chocolate-coloured stone. The
+Geos halted.
+
+"Dost wish the building emptied, O Jarados?"
+
+"I do. When we come back from under the Spot of Life, we should have the
+place to ourselves."
+
+Accompanied by the two queens the Rhamda returned to the main body of
+the temple. Dr. Holcomb, Harry and Chick were left to themselves.
+
+The professor took out a notebook. In it was traced a map, or chart,
+together with several notations.
+
+"The three of us," said he, "are going to take a look at the under side
+of the Blind Spot. This stairway leads into a secret chamber inside the
+foundations of the great stair; and according to this data I found in
+the palace, together with some calculations of my own, we ought to find
+some of the secrets of the Spot."
+
+He led the way up the steps. At the top of the flight they came to a
+blank, blue wall. There was no sign of a door, but in the front of the
+wall stood a low platform, in the centre of which was set a strange, red
+stone. The professor consulted his chart, then opened his black case.
+From it he took another stone, red like the other, but not so intense.
+This he touched to the first, and waited.
+
+Inside a minute a light sprang up from the contact. Immediately Harry
+and Chick beheld something they had not seen on the wall--a knob, or
+button. The doctor pulled sharply on it. Instantly a door opened in the
+wall.
+
+They passed into another room. It was not a large place--about thirty
+feet across, perhaps, stone-walled and with a low ceiling. From all
+sides a soft, intrinsic glow was given off. There were no furnishings.
+
+But in the centre of the ceiling, occupying almost all the space
+overhead, a snow-white substance hung as if suspended. Were it not
+for its colour and its size, it might have been likened to an immense,
+horizontal grindstone hung in mid-air, with apparently nothing to hold
+it there. Around its side they could make out a narrow gap between
+it and the ceiling. And directly along its lower edge was a series of
+small, fiery jewels inset, and of the order and colour of the sign of
+the Jarados--red, blue and green, alternating.
+
+The professor produced an electric torch and held it up to show that the
+gap between the stone and the ceiling was unbroken at any point. Then he
+counted the jewels on the lower edge. Chick made out twenty-four. Three
+were missing from their sockets--all told, then, there should have been
+twenty-seven.
+
+The doctor noted the positions of the three empty sockets and, drawing
+a tapeline from his pocket, proceeded to measure the distances from each
+of the three--they were widely separated round the circle--from each
+other. Then he turned to Chick and Harry.
+
+"Do you know where we are?"
+
+"Under the Spot of Life," it was easy to answer.
+
+"You are in San Francisco!"
+
+"Not in--in--" Chick hesitated.
+
+"Yes. Exactly. This is 288 Chatterton Place--the house of the Blind
+Spot." He paused for them to digest this. Then, "Harry--did you say
+Hobart Fenton was with you on that last night?"
+
+"Hobart and his sister, Charlotte. I remember their coming at the last
+minute. They were too late, sir."
+
+The professor nodded.
+
+"Well, Harry, the chances are that Hobart is not more than twenty
+feet away at the present moment. Charlotte may be sitting right
+there"--pointing to a spot at Harry's side--"this very instant. And
+there may be many others.
+
+"No doubt they are working hard to solve the mystery. Unfortunately the
+best they can do is to guess. We hold the key. That is--I should correct
+that statement--we hold the knowledge, and they hold the keys."
+
+"The keys?" Harry wanted to know more.
+
+The professor pointed to the three empty sockets in the great white
+stone above their heads. "These three missing stones are the keys.
+Until they are reset we cannot control the Spot. I had found two of
+them before I came through. I take it that both of you remember the blue
+one?"
+
+"I think," agreed Chick, "that neither of us is ever likely to forget
+it! Eh, Harry?"
+
+The professor smiled. He was holding the light up to the snow-stone,
+at a spot that would have been the point of intersection had lines been
+drawn from the three missing gems, and the resulting triangle centred.
+He held his hand up to the substance. It was slightly rough at that
+point, as though it had been frozen.
+
+Then he ran his fingers across the surrounding surface.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed. "I thought so! That helps considerably. Chick--put
+your hand up here. What do you feel?"
+
+"Rough," said Chick, feeling the intersection point. "Slightly so, but
+cold and--and magnetic."
+
+"Now feel here."
+
+"Cool and magnetic, doctor; but smooth. What does it prove?"
+
+"Let's see; do you understand the term 'electrolysis'? Good. Well,
+there should be another clue--not similar, but supplementary, or rather,
+complementary--on the earth side. Perhaps one of you found it while you
+lived in that house." The professor eyed both men anxiously. "Did either
+of you find a stain, or anything of that sort, on the walls, ceiling, or
+floor of any room there?"
+
+Both shook their heads.
+
+"Well, there ought to be," frowned the doctor. "I am positive that,
+should we return now, we could locate some such phenomenon. From this
+side it is very easy to account for; it's simply the disintegrating
+effect of the current, constantly impinging at the point of contact or
+the intersection. Having acted on this side, it must have left some mark
+on the other."
+
+Watson was still running his hand over the snow-stone. Once before, when
+he had stood barefooted in the contest with the Senestro, he had noted
+its cold magnetism.
+
+"What is this substance, professor?"
+
+"That, I have not been able to discover. I would call it neutral
+element, for want of a more exact term; something that touches both
+aspects of the spectrum."
+
+"Both aspects of the spectrum?"
+
+"Yes; as nearly as the limitations of my vocabulary will permit. If you
+recall, I showed you a simple experiment the other day in the palace.
+By means of an inductor I drew out the iron principle from the ether and
+built up the metal. Only it was not precisely iron but its Thomahlian
+equivalent. Had you been on the earth side you would have seen nothing
+at all, not even myself. I was on the wrong aspect of the spectrum.
+
+"Also, you see here the Jaradic colours--the crimson, green and
+blue--the shades between, the iridescence and the shadows. Had you
+been on the other side you wouldn't have seen one of them; they are not
+precisely our own colours, but their equivalents on this side of the
+Spot.
+
+"In the final analysis, as I said before, it gets down to ether, to
+speed and vibration--and still at last to the perceptive limitations of
+our own earthly five senses. Just stop and consider how limited we are!
+Only five senses--why, even insects have six. Then consider that all
+matter, when we get to the bottom of it, is differentiated and condensed
+ether, focused into various mathematical arrangements, as numberless as
+the particles of the universe. Of these our five senses pick out a very
+small proportion indeed.
+
+"This is one way to account for the Blind Spot. It may be merely
+another phase of the spectrum--not simply the unexplored regions of the
+infra-red or the ultra-violet, but a region co-existent with what we
+normally apprehend, and making itself manifest through apertures in what
+we, with our extremely limited sense-grasp, think to be a continuous
+spectrum. I throw out the idea mainly as a suggestion. It is not
+necessarily the true explanation.
+
+"Let us go a bit farther. Remember, we are still upon the earth. And
+that we are still in San Francisco, although all the while we are also
+in the Mahovisal. This is 288 Chatterton Place, and at the same time
+it is the Temple of the Bell. It might be a hundred or a thousand other
+places just as well, too, if my hypothesis is correct; which we shall
+see.
+
+"Now, what does this mean? Simply this, gentlemen, that we five-sensed
+people have failed to grasp the true meaning of the word 'Infinity.' We
+look out toward the stars, fancying that only in unlimited space can we
+find the infinite. We little suspect we ourselves are infinity! It is
+only our five senses that make us finite.
+
+"As soon as we grasp this the so-called spiritual realm becomes a very
+substantial fact. We begin to apprehend the occult. Our five-sensed
+world is merely a highly specialized phase of infinity. Material or
+spiritual--it is all the same. That's why we look on the Thomahlians as
+occult, and why they consider us in the same light.
+
+"It is strictly a question of sense perception and limitations, which
+can be covered by the word, 'viewpoint.' Viewpoint--that is all it
+amounts to.
+
+"There is no such thing as unreality; but there is most certainly such a
+thing as relativity, and all life is real.
+
+"Of course I knew nothing of this until the discovery of the Blind Spot.
+It will, I think, prove to be one of the greatest events in history. It
+will silence the sceptics, and form a bulwark for all religion. And it
+will make us all appreciate our Creator the more."
+
+The professor stopped. For some moments there was silence.
+
+"What are we to do now?" asked Harry.
+
+But the professor chose not to answer. With his tape he began taking a
+fresh series of measurements, with reference to the empty sockets and
+one particularly brilliant red gem, which seemed to be "number one" in
+the circle. From time to time the doctor jotted down the results and
+made short calculations. Presently he said: "That ought to be enough.
+Now suppose we--"
+
+At that instant something happened. Harry Wendel caught him by the
+shoulder. He pointed to the suspended stone.
+
+It was moving!
+
+It was revolving, almost imperceptibly, like some vast wheel turning
+on its axis. So slowly did it rotate, the motion would have escaped
+attention were it not for the gems and their brilliance.
+
+Suddenly it came to a stop, short and quick, as though it had dropped
+into a notch. And from above they heard the deep, solemn clang of the
+temple bell.
+
+"What is that?" asked Harry, startled. "Who moved the stone?"
+
+"Can it be," flashed Chick, "that Hobart Fenton has found the keys?"
+
+"That remains to be seen!" from the doctor. "Come--we must find out what
+has happened!"
+
+Within a minute they knew. As they came out of the private door on the
+now emptied floor of the great temple, they saw the senior queen, the
+Nervina, coming down the great stairway from the Spot of Life.
+
+"What is it?" called Harry, apprehensively.
+
+"The Aradna!" she replied. Her voice was curiously strained. "Something
+happened, and--she has fallen through the Spot!"
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+OUT OF THE OCCULT
+
+
+"HOW DID IT HAPPEN?"
+
+"I scarcely know. We went up to play with the dog. It was unwilling to
+leave the place, and Aradna teasingly tried to push her off on to the
+steps. She succeeded, but--well, it was all over that quick. The Aradna
+was gone!"
+
+But the Spot had by this time lost a good deal of its terror. Knowing
+what was on the other side, and who, made a great difference. As the
+doctor said later in a private consultation with Chick and Harry:
+
+"It's not so bad. That is, if Hobart Fenton is at work there. I think
+he is. Really, I only regret that we didn't know of this beforehand; we
+could have sent a message through to him."
+
+And the professor went on to explain what he meant. At the time he
+spoke, it was twenty-four hours after the Aradna's going; another
+twenty-four hours would see the evening of the Last Day--the sixteenth
+of the sacred Days of Life--what the Rhamdas alluded to as "the Day of
+Judgment." And the Mahovisal was a seething mass of humanity, all bent
+upon seeing the fulfillment of their highest hopes.
+
+"Bear in mind that if the Spot should not open at the last moment, you
+and I are done for. We will be self-condemned 'False Ones'; our lives
+will not last one minute after midnight tomorrow night if we fail to get
+through!
+
+"That Prophecy means EVERYTHING to the Thomahlians. There was a time
+when they accepted it on faith; now it is an intellectual conviction
+with every last one of them. And one and all look forward to a new and
+glorious life beyond the Spot--in the occult world--our world!
+
+"Now, the ticklish part of the job will be to open the Spot just long
+enough to permit us to get through, yet prevent the whole Prophecy from
+coming to pass. We've got to get through, together with that black case
+of mine, and then shut the door in the face of all Thomahlia!"
+
+Nothing more was said on the subject until late the following afternoon,
+as the doctor, Harry, and Chick sat down to a light meal. They ate much
+as if nothing whatever was in the wind. From where they sat, in one part
+of a wing of the temple, they could look out into the crowded streets,
+in which were packed untold numbers of pilgrims, all pressing towards
+the great square plaza in front of the temple. No guards were to be
+seen; the solemnity of the occasion was sufficient to keep order. But
+the terrific potentiality of that semi-fanatical host did not cause the
+doctor's voice to change one iota.
+
+"There is no telling what may happen," he said. "For my own part I shall
+not venture near the Spot of Life until just at the end. I shall remain
+in the chamber underneath.
+
+"But you two ought to show yourselves immediately after sundown. Certain
+ancient writings indicate it. You, and the Nervina, will have to mount
+the stair to the Spot, and remain in sight until midnight--until the
+end.
+
+"So we must be prepared for accidents." He took some papers from his
+pocket, and selected two, and gave one to each of his pupils. "Here are
+the details of what must be done. In case only one of us gets through,
+it will be enough."
+
+"But--how can these be of any use, on such short notice?" Harry asked.
+
+"Cudgel your brains a bit, gentlemen," he chided good-humouredly. "You
+will soon see my drift. This is one of those occasions when the psychic
+elements involved are such that, without doubt, it were best if you
+reacted naturally to whatever may happen.
+
+"Now you will note that I have made a drawing of the Blind Spot region;
+also certain calculations which will explain themselves.
+
+"Moreover, I have written out the combination to my laboratory safe in
+my house in Berkeley. The green stone is there. Bertha will help, as
+soon as she understands that it is my wish; no explanation will be
+needed.
+
+"You may leave the rest to me, young gentlemen. Act as through you
+had no notion that I was down below the Spot. I shall be merely
+experimenting a bit with that circle of jewels, to see if the phenomena
+which affected the Aradna cannot be repeated. I fancy it was not mere
+accident, but rather the working of a 'period.'"
+
+He said no more about this, except to comment that he hoped to get into
+direct communication with Hobart Fenton before midnight should arrive.
+However, he did say, in an irrelevant sort of manner:
+
+"Oh, by the way--do either of you happen to recall which direction the
+house at Chatterton Place faces?"
+
+"North," replied Harry and Chick, almost in the same breath.
+
+"Ah yes. Well, the temple faces south. Can you remember that?"
+
+They thought they could. The rest of the meal was eaten without any
+discussion. Just as they arose, however, the doctor observed:
+
+"It may be that Hobart Fenton has got to come through. I wish I
+knew more about his mentality; it's largely a question of psychic
+influence--the combined, resultant force of the three material gems, and
+the three degrees of psychic vibration as put forth by him and you two.
+We shall see.
+
+"Something happened today--the Geos told me about it--which may link up
+Hobart very definitely. It was about one o'clock when one of the temple
+pheasants began to behave very queerly up on the great stair. It had
+been walking around on the snow-stone, and flying a bit; then it started
+to hop down the steps.
+
+"About sixteen steps down, Geos says the pheasant stopped and began
+to flutter frantically, as though some unseen person were holding it.
+Suddenly it vanished, and as suddenly reappeared again. It flew off,
+unharmed. I can't quite account for it, but--well, we'll see!"
+
+He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the wing.
+There they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina and her
+retinue arrived. Without delay a start was made for the great black
+stairway.
+
+The doctor alone remained behind.
+
+There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the Nervina and
+the rest access to the foot of the steps. Reaching that point she paused
+for a look around.
+
+The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple had not
+yet been turned on. Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung portentously,
+even more ominous than in the brighter light. The huge waterspout
+columns, the terrific size of the auditorium, were none the less
+impressive for the incalculable horde that filled every bit of floor
+space. At the front of the building the archway gave a glimpse of the
+vastly greater throng waiting outside.
+
+But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme
+expectation.
+
+The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to
+top, with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the three
+chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The green one had
+been brought down and placed in the centre of an open spot just at the
+foot of the stairs.
+
+In this chair sat the Bar Senestro. Deployed about him, at a respectful
+distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds in number. Behind
+the Bars, separating them from the crowds at their backs, were grouped
+the crimson and blue guardsmen. Among them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar
+and the MacPherson, but Chick could locate neither.
+
+The Nervina, taking Harry's arm, ascended the steps. Chick followed,
+with the Rhamda Geos at his side. At the top of the flight the Nervina
+was escorted to one of the chairs, while Chick placed the Geos in the
+other.
+
+It left the two Californians on their feet, to move around to whatever
+extent seemed commensurate with dignity. Chick drew Harry aside.
+
+"What do you suppose," said Chick, indicating the handsome, confident
+figure in the chair at the base of the stairs--"what do you suppose
+friend Senestro is thinking about?"
+
+Harry frowned. "You know him better than I do. You don't think he has
+reformed?"
+
+"Not on your life; not the Bar. He's merely adjusted his plans to the
+new situation. He sees that the Prophecy is likely to be fulfilled; so,
+he counts on being the first to get through, after the Nervina. Then,
+whether the rest of the Thomahlia follows or not--he calls himself the
+divinely appointed leader now, I understand--he will get through and
+marry the two Queens anyhow!"
+
+Perhaps it was because the crowd was so terrifically large. Or, there
+may have been something in the destiny of things that would not permit
+the chief actors to feel nervous. Certain it is that neither of the two
+men experienced the least stage fright. Had they been on display before
+a crowd one-tenth the size, anywhere else, both would have been ill at
+ease. This was different--enormously so.
+
+No longer was there any circulation in the crowd. People remained in
+their places now, just as they expected the end to find them. Chick
+and Harry marvelled at their composure, strangely in contrast with
+the ceaseless activities of the temple pheasants darting everywhere
+overhead.
+
+Suddenly Harry remarked:
+
+"I've got an idea, Chick! It's this: How does the professor expect to
+send a message to Hobart?" Chick could not guess.
+
+But already Harry had taken his sheet of instructions from his pocket,
+and was rolling it into a compact pellet. Then he went to Queen, and
+with a ribbon borrowed from the Nervina, tied the message tightly to the
+dog's collar.
+
+"Hobart will be certain to see it," said he. "I wonder if the doctor's
+figured it out yet?"
+
+"He's playing with a tremendous force," observed Chick, thoughtfully.
+He reached out and touched the snow-stone with his foot, just as he had
+done before, and fancied that he could feel that electric thrill even
+through the leather of his shoes. "Still, it's worth any risk he may
+be taking down in that chamber. If only he could send Queen through!
+Hobart--"
+
+He never finished the sentence. He staggered, thrown off his balance by
+reason of the fact that he had been resting the weight of one foot on
+the stone and--it moved!
+
+Moved--shifted about its axis, just as it had done forty-eight hours
+previously, when the Aradna had dropped through.
+
+And Chick had only a flash of a second for a glimpse of the startled
+faces of Harry, the Nervina and the Geos, the huge multitude below the
+stair, Queen on the other side, and the fateful Prophecy on the walls
+above him, before--
+
+A figure came into existence at his side. It was that of a powerfully
+built man, on whose wrists were curious red circles. And Chick shouted
+in a great voice:
+
+"Hobart!"
+
+And then came blackness.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+THE LAST LEAF
+
+
+Watson's story was now completed. During the entire recital his auditors
+had spoken scarcely a word. It had been marvellous--almost a revelation.
+With the possible exception of Sir Henry Hodges, not one had expected
+that it would measure up to this. For the whole thing backed up
+Holcomb's original proposition:
+
+"The Occult is concrete."
+
+Certainly, if what Watson had told them was true, then Infinity had been
+squared by itself. Not only was there an infinity that we might look up
+to through the stars, but there was another just as great, co-existent,
+here upon the earth. The occult became not only possible, but unlimited.
+
+The next few minutes would prove whether or not he had told the truth.
+
+It was now close to midnight.
+
+Jerome and General Hume had returned from Berkeley. Their quest had been
+successful; Watson now had the missing green stone. A number of soldiers
+were stationed about the house. Watson noted these men when he had
+finished his account, and said:
+
+"Good. We may need them, although I hope not. Fortunately the Spot is
+small, and a few of us can hold it against a good many. What we must do
+is to extricate our friends and close it. Afterward we may have time for
+more leisurely investigation. But we must remember, above all things,
+that black case of Professor Holcomb's! It holds the secrets.
+
+"Now I must ask you all to step out of this room. This library, you
+know, is the Blind Spot."
+
+He directed them to take positions along the balustrade of the stairway,
+out in the hall--through the wide archway, where they could have a clear
+view, yet be safe.
+
+It was a curious test. With nothing but his mathematics and his drawing
+to go by, Watson was about to set the three stones in their invisible
+sockets. He spread the map out carefully, likewise his calculations;
+they gave him, on this floor, the precise positions that he charted
+on the earth of the cellar. A glance toward the front of the
+house--north--then a little measuring, three chalk-marks on the carpet,
+and he was ready for the final move.
+
+He took the fateful ring and with a penknife pried up the prongs that
+held the stone. As it popped out he caught it with one hand. Then he
+looked at the row of wondering faces along the stair.
+
+"I think it will work," he said. "But, remember--don't come near! I
+shall get out as best I can myself; don't try to save me."
+
+With that he held the jewel on the first of the three chalk-marks on the
+circumference of the great circle. He held it tight against the carpet
+and then let go. Up it flashed about one foot--and disappeared.
+
+There was no sound. Next Watson took the red stone. With it, the process
+was inverted. Instead of holding it to the floor he raised it as high as
+he could reach, directly above the second mark. Then he let it drop.
+
+It did not reach the floor. It fell a little more than halfway, and
+vanished.
+
+The third stone, the green one, was still remaining. Watson took it to
+the third and final mark on the circle, taking care to keep outside the
+circumference that marked the Spot. This mark was directly in front of
+the archway. He turned to them.
+
+"Watch carefully," he spoke. "I do not know what has transpired in the
+temple during the past few hours. Be ready for ANYTHING. All of you!"
+
+He dropped the stone.
+
+With the same motion he dodged out into the hall.
+
+Though there was no sound there was something that every one felt--a
+sibilant undertone and cold vibration--a tense flash of magnetism. Then
+the dot of blue--a string of incandescence; just as had been spoken.
+
+The Blind Spot was opening.
+
+Watson silently warned the others to remain where they were and
+himself crowded back against the stair. And as he did so, someone came
+noiselessly down the steps from the floor above, passed unnoticed behind
+the watchers and thence across into the hall.
+
+It was a slender, frail figure in white--the Aradna, walking like one in
+the grip of a higher will. Before they could make a move she had stepped
+into the Blind Spot, under the dot of blue, and into a string of light.
+And then--she was gone.
+
+It was as swift as a guess. It was inexorable and unseen; and being
+unseen, close akin to terror. The group watched and waited, scarcely
+breathing. What would happen next?
+
+There came a sudden, jarring click--like the tapping of iron. And next
+instant--
+
+The Spot opened to human sight.
+
+The library at 288 Chatterton Place was gone. Instead, the people on
+the stairs were gazing down from the Spot of Life, straight into the
+colossal Temple of the Jarados.
+
+It was as Chick had described it--immense--beyond conception. Through
+the great doors and out into the plaza beyond was gathered all
+Thomahlia, reverent, like those waiting for the crack of doom.
+
+Above the horde, high on the opposite wall, stood out the monster Clover
+Leaf of the Jarados; three-coloured--blazing like liquid fire; it was
+ominous with real life.
+
+At that moment the whole concourse rippled with commotion. Arms were
+uplifted; one and all pointed towards the dais. They, too were looking
+through the Spot. Then the multitude began to move.
+
+It heaved and surged and rolled toward the centre. The guards were
+pressed in upon the Bars, the Bars upon the Rhamda-lined stair. There
+was no resisting that flood of humanity. On and up it came, sweeping
+everything before it.
+
+Directly in the foreground lay the snow-stone. On its centre stood
+the dog Queen, crouching, waiting, bristling. By her side Harry Wendel
+crouched on one knee, as if awaiting the signal. Behind him, the
+Nervina, supporting the awakening Aradna. And in front of all, the
+powerful bulk of Hobart Fenton, standing squarely at the head of the
+stair, ready to grapple the first to reach the landing.
+
+But most important of all, there stood the doctor himself. He was at the
+Nervina's side; in his hand, the case of priceless data. He was gazing
+through the Spot and making a signal of some kind to Watson, whereupon
+the latter leaped to the edge of the unseen circle.
+
+Something had gone wrong. The Spot was not fully open. Nothing but sight
+could get through.
+
+Yet there was no time for anything. Up the stairs came the Bars, leading
+and being pressed forward by the horde. At their head dashed the Bar
+Senestro, handsome as Alexander. Hobart stepped forward to meet him, but
+the doctor stopped him with a word.
+
+Only a few seconds elapsed between death and salvation. Again Dr.
+Holcomb signed to Watson; not a sound came through. Watson hesitated.
+
+The dog Queen shot to her feet. Then the Senestro, out-distancing all
+the rest and dodging Hobart, had leaped upon the dais.
+
+Upon the wall across the temple the great Leaf of the Jarados stood out
+like sinister fire. It pulsed and vibrated--alive. The top petal--the
+blue one--suddenly broke into a seething wave of flame.
+
+Still Watson held back. He could not understand what Holcomb meant.
+
+Queen waited only until the Senestro set foot on the dais. She crouched,
+then leaped.
+
+It was done.
+
+With a lightning shift of his nimble feet, the high-tempered Bar
+kicked the shepherd in the side. Caught at full leap, she was knocked
+completely over and fell upon the snow-stone.
+
+It was the Sacrilege!
+
+Even the Bars beyond the Senestro stopped in horror. The Four-Footed
+One--sacred to the Jarados--it was she who had been touched! Had the
+Senestro undone all on the Spot of Judgment, What would be the end?
+
+Fenton acted. He caught the Senestro before he could get his balance and
+with a mighty heave hurled him over the side of the stair. A second, and
+it was over.
+
+Another second was the last. For the great Leaf of the Jarados had
+opened.
+
+The green and red stood still; but out of the blue came a dazzling
+light, a powerful beam; so brilliant, it seemed solid. It shot across
+the whole sweep of the temple and touched the Prophecy. Over the golden
+scrolls it traced its marvellous colour, until it came to the lines:
+
+  Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I
+  have given ye, and the day be postponed--beware ye of
+  sacrilege!
+
+For a moment the strange light stood still, so that the checked millions
+might read. Then it turned upon the dais.
+
+There it spread, and hovered over the group, until it seemed to work
+them together--the Nervina to Harry, the Aradna to Hobart. Not one of
+them knew what it was; they obeyed by impulse--it was their destiny; the
+Chosen, and the queens.
+
+The light stopped at the foot of Dr. Holcomb. Then the strangest thing
+happened.
+
+Out of the light--or rather, from where it bathed the snowstone--came a
+man; a man much like Holcomb, bearded and short and kindly.
+
+He was the real Jarados!
+
+Unhesitatingly the professor stepped up beside him. Then followed Hobart
+and the Aradna, Harry and the Nervina, and lastly, from the crowd of
+Bars, MacPherson. The whole concourse in the temple stopped in awe and
+terror.
+
+Only for a second. Then the Jarados and all at his side--were gone.
+
+And upon the snow-stone there stood a sword of living flame.
+
+It stood there for just a breath, exactly where the group had been.
+
+And it was gone.
+
+That was all.
+
+No; not quite all. For when the Blind Spot closed that night at 288
+Chatterton Place, there came once more the deep, solemn peal of the Bell
+of the Jarados.
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+THE UNACCOUNTABLE
+
+
+Were this account merely a work of fiction, it would harmonise things so
+as to have no unaccountables in it. As it is, the present writers will
+have to make this quite clear:
+
+It is not known why the Rhamda Avec failed to show himself at the
+crucial moment. Perhaps he could have changed everything. We can only
+surmise; he has not been seen or heard from since.
+
+Which also is true of Mr. Chick Watson. He disappeared immediately after
+the closing of the Spot, saying that he was going to Bertha Holcomb's
+home. No trace has been found of either to date. Doubtless the reader
+has noted advertisement in the papers, appealing to the authorities to
+report any one of Watson's description applying for a marriage licence.
+
+As for his two friends, Wendel and Fenton, together with the Aradna and
+the Nervina, they and MacPherson and the doctor absolutely vanished from
+all the knowledge, either of the Thomahlia or the earth. The Jarados
+alone can tell of them.
+
+Mme. Le Fabre, however, feels that she can explain the matter
+satisfactorily. Abridged, her theory runs:
+
+"There is but one way to explore the Occult. That way is to die.
+
+"For all that we were so strongly impressed with the reality of
+Mr. Watson, I am firmly convinced that he was simply a spirit; that
+everything we saw was spirit manifestation.
+
+"Dr. Holcomb and all the rest have simply gone on to another plane. We
+shall never see them again. They are dead; no other explanation will
+hold. They are spirits."
+
+Giving this version to the public strictly for what it is worth, the
+present writers feel it only right to submit the conclusions reached
+by Dr. Malloy and concurred in by Drs. Higgins and Hansen, also, with
+reservations, by Professor Herold and by Miss Clarke.
+
+"To a certain extent, and up to a certain point, it is possible
+to account for the astonishing case of the Blind Spot by means of
+well-known psychological principles. Hallucinations will cover a great
+deal of ground.
+
+"But we feel that our personal experiences, in witnessing the interior
+of the Thomahlia cannot be thus explained away. Our accounts tally too
+exactly; and we are not subject to group hypnosis.
+
+"To explain this we believe a new hypothesis is called for. We submit
+that what we saw was not unreal. Assuming that a thing is real or
+unreal, and can never be in a third state which is neither one nor the
+other, then we should have to insist that what we saw was REAL.
+
+"We stand ready and prepared to accept any theory which will fit all
+facts, not merely a portion."
+
+Again refraining from any comment we pass on to the more exhaustive
+opinion of Sir Henry Hodges. Inasmuch as this seems to coincide very
+closely with the hypothesis of Professor Holcomb, and as the reputation
+of Sir Henry is a thing of weight, we are quoting him almost verbatim:
+
+"There is a well-known experiment in chemistry, wherein equal quantities
+of water and alcohol are mixed. Let us say, a pint of each. Now, the
+resulting mixture ought to be a quart; but it is not. It is somewhat
+less than a quart.
+
+"Strange, indeed, to the novice, but a commonplace to every student of
+the subject. It is strange only that, except for Dr. Holcomb and
+this man Avec, science has overlooked the stupendous significance and
+suggestion of this particular fact.
+
+"Now, consider another well-known fact: No matter how you try you cannot
+prevent gravity from acting. It will pull every object down, regardless
+of how you try to screen it from the earth.
+
+"Why? Because gravity penetrates all things. Again, why? Why should
+gravity penetrate all things?
+
+"The answer is, because gravity is a function of the ether. And the
+ether is an imponderable substance, so impalpable that it passes right
+through all solids as though they were not there.
+
+"These are two highly suggestive points. They show us, first, that two
+substances can exist within the space formerly thought to be completely
+filled by one. Second, they show that ALL substances are porous to the
+ether.
+
+"Very well. Bear in mind that we know nothing whatever directly about
+the ether; our knowledge is all indirect. Therefore--
+
+"It may be that there is more than one ether!
+
+"Conceive what this means. If there were another ether, how could we
+become aware of it? Only through the medium of some such phenomenon as
+the Blind Spot; not through ordinary channels. For the ordinary channels
+are microscopes and test-tubes, every one of which, when traced to the
+ultimate, is simply a concrete expression of THE ONE ETHER WE KNOW!
+
+"In the nature of the case our five senses could never apprehend a
+second ether.
+
+"Yet, knowing what we do about the structure of the atom, of electronic
+activity, of quantels, we must admit that there is a huge, unoccupied
+space--that is, we can't see that it is occupied--in and between the
+interstices of the atom.
+
+"It is in the region, mingled and intertwined with the electrons which
+make up the world we know so well, that--in my opinion--the Thomahlian
+world exists. It is actually coexistent with our own. It is here, and
+so are we. At this very instant, at any given spot, there can be,
+and almost certainly is, more than one solid object--two systems of
+materiality, two systems of life, two systems of death. And if two, why,
+then, perhaps there are even more!
+
+"Holcomb is right. We are Infinity. Only our five senses make us
+finite."
+
+Charlotte Fenton does not indulge in speculation. She seems to bear up
+wonderfully well in the face of Harry Wendel's affinity for the
+Nervina, and also in the face of her brother's disappearance. And she
+philosophically states:
+
+"When Columbus returned from his search for the East Indies, he
+triumphantly announced that he had found what he sought.
+
+"He was mistaken. He had found something else--America.
+
+"It may be that we are all mistaken. It may be that something entirely
+different from what any one has suspected has been found. Time will
+tell. I am willing to wait."
+
+To make it complete, it is felt that the following statement of General
+Hume is not only essential, but convincing to the last degree.
+
+"My view regarding this mystery is simply this: I have eyes, and I
+have seen. I don't know whether the actors were living or dead. I am
+no scientist; I have no theory. I only know. And I will swear to what I
+saw.
+
+"I am a soldier. The two men who are bringing this to press have shown
+me their copy.
+
+"It is correct."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Blind Spot, by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blind Spot
+by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
+copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
+this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
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+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Blind Spot
+
+Author: Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4920]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 27, 2002]
+[Date last updated: May 17, 2004]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BLIND SPOT ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+THE BLIND SPOT
+
+AUSTIN HALL AND HOMER EON FLINT
+
+INTRODUCTION BY FORREST J ACKERMAN
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE LURE AND LORE OF "THE BLIND SPOT"
+
+BY FORREST J ACKERMAN
+
+The Blind Spot opens with the words: "Perhaps it were just as well
+to start at the beginning. A mere matter of news." Suppose I use
+them in the same sense:
+
+A mere matter of news: The first instalment of this fabulous novel
+was featured in Argosy-All-Story-Weekly for May 14, 1921.
+Described as a "different" serial, it was introduced by a cover by
+Modest Stein. In the foreground was the profile of a girl of
+another dimension--ethereal, sensuous, the eternal feminine--the
+Nervina of the story. Filmy crystalline earrings swept back over
+her bare shoulders. Dominating the background was a huge flaming
+yellow ball, like our Sun as seen from the hypothetical Vulcan--
+splotched with murky, mysterious globii vitonae. There was an
+ancient quay, and emerging from the ultramarine waters about it a
+silhouetted metropolis of spires, domes, and minarets. It was
+1921, and that generation thus received its first glimpse of the
+alien landscape of The Blind Spot and the baroque beauty of an
+immortal woman of fantasy fiction.
+
+The authors? Homer Eon Flint was already a reigning favourite with
+post-World-War-I enthusiasts of imaginative literature, who had
+eagerly devoured his QUEEN OF LIFE and LORD OF DEATH, his KING OF
+CONSERVE ISLAND and THE PLANETEER. Austin Hall was well known and
+popular for his ALMOST IMMORTAL, REBEL SOUL, and INTO THE
+INFINITE.
+
+Then came this epoch-making collaboration. When Mary Gnaedinger
+launched Famous Fantastic Mysteries magazine she early presented
+THE BLIND SPOT, and printed it again in that magazine's companion
+Fantastic Novels. These reprints are now collectors' items, almost
+unobtainable, and otherwise the story has long been out of print.
+Rumour says an unauthorised German version of THE BLIND SPOT, has
+been published in book form. There is another book called THE
+BLIND SPOT, and also a magazine story, and a major movie studio
+was to produce a film of the same title. However, here is
+presented the only hard-cover version of the only BLIND SPOT of
+consequence to lovers of fantasy.
+
+Who wrote the story? When I first looked into the question, as a
+15 year old boy, Homer Eon Flint (he originally spelled his name
+with a "d") was already dead of a fall into a canyon. In 1949 his
+widow told me: "I think Homer's father contributed that middle
+name"--the same name (with slightly different spelling) that the
+Irish poet George Russell took as his pen-name, which became known
+by its abbreviation AE. Mrs. Flindt said of Flint's father: "He
+was a very deep thinker, and enjoyed reading heavy material." Like
+father, like son. "Homer always talked over his ideas with me, and
+although I couldn't always follow his thoughts it seemed to help
+him to express them to another--it made some things come more
+clearly to him."
+
+Flint was a great admirer of H. G. Wells (this little grandmother-
+schoolteacher told me) and had probably read all his works up to
+the time when he (Flint) died in 1924. He had read Doyle and
+Haggard, but: "Wells was his favourite--the real thinker."
+
+Flint found a fellow-thinker in Austin Hall, whom he met in San
+Jose, California, while working at a shop where shoes were
+repaired electrically--"a rather new concept at the time." Hall,
+learning that Flint lived in the same city, sought him out, and
+they became fast friends. Each stimulated the other. As Hall told
+me twenty years ago of the origin of THE BLIND SPOT:
+
+"One day after we had lunched together, I held my finger up in
+front of one of my eyes and said: 'Homer, couldn't a story be
+written about that blind spot in the eye?' Not much was said about
+it at the time, but four days later, again at lunch, I outlined
+the whole story to him. I wrote the first eighteen chapters; Homer
+took up the tale as 'Hobart Fenton' and wrote the chapters about
+the house of miracles, the living death, the rousing of Aradna's
+mind, and so forth, up to 'The Man from Space,' where once again I
+took over."
+
+To THE BLIND SPOT Hall contributed a great knowledge of history
+and anthropology, while Flint's fortes were physics and medicine.
+Both had a great fund of philosophy at their command.
+
+When I met Hall (about four years older than Flint) he was in his
+fifties: a devil-may-care old codger (old to a fifteen-year-old,
+that is) full of good humour and indulgence for a youthful admirer
+who had journeyed far to meet him. He casually referred to his 600
+published stories, and I carried away the impression of one who
+resembled both in output and in looks that other fiction-factory
+of the time, Edgar Wallace.
+
+Finally: Several years ago, before I knew anything about the
+present volume, I had an unusual experience. (At that time I had
+no reason to think THE BLIND SPOT would ever become available as a
+book, for the location of the heirs proved a Herculean task by
+itself; publishers had long wanted to present this amazing novel
+but could not do so until I located Mrs. Mae Hall and Mrs. Mabel
+Flindt.) While, unfortunately, I did not take careful notes at the
+time, the gist of the occurrence was this:
+
+I visited a friend whose hobby (besides reading fantasy) was the
+occult, who volunteered to entertain me with automatic writing and
+the ouija-board. Now, I share Lovecraft's scepticism towards the
+supernatural, regarding it as at best a means of amusement. When
+the question arose of what spirits we should try to lure to our
+planchette, the names of Lovecraft, Merritt, Hall, and Flint
+popped into my pixilated mind. So I set my fingers on the wooden
+heart and, since my host was also a Flint admirer, we asked about
+Flint's fatal accident. The ouija spelled out:
+
+N-O A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T--R-O-B-B-E-R-Y
+
+There followed something about being held up by a hitch-hiker.
+Then Hall (or at least some energy-source other than my own
+conscious mind) came through too, and when I asked if he had left
+any work behind he replied:
+
+Y-E-S--T-H-E L-A-S-T G-O-D-L-I-N-G
+
+Later I asked his son about this (without revealing the title) and
+Javen Hall told me of the story his father had been plotting when
+he died: THE HIDDEN EMPIRE, or THE CHILD OF THE SOUTHWIND.
+Whatever was pushing the planchette failed to inform me that when
+I found Austin Hall's son and widow, they would put into my hands
+an unknown, unpublished fantasy novel by Hall: THE HOUSE OF DAWN!
+Some day it may appear in print.
+
+Meanwhile you are getting understandably impatient to explore that
+unknown realm of the Blind Spot. Be on your way, and bon voyage!
+
+FORREST J ACKERMAN, Beverley Hills, Calif.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+Perhaps it were just as well to start at the beginning. A mere
+matter of news.
+
+All the world at the time knew the story; but for the benefit of
+those who have forgotten I shall repeat it. I am merely giving it
+as I have taken it from the papers with no elaboration and no
+opinion--a mere statement of facts. It was a celebrated case at
+the time and stirred the world to wonder. Indeed, it still is
+celebrated, though to the layman it is forgotten.
+
+It has been labelled and indexed and filed away in the archives of
+the profession. To those who wish to look it up it will be spoken
+of as one of the great unsolved mysteries of the century. A crime
+that leads two ways, one into murder--sordid, cold and
+calculating; and the other into the nebulous screen that thwarts
+us from the occult.
+
+Perhaps it is the character of Dr. Holcomb that gives the latter.
+He was a great man and a splendid thinker. That he should have
+been led into a maze of cheap necromancy is, on the face,
+improbable. He had a wonderful mind. For years he had been
+battering down the scepticism that had bulwarked itself in the
+material.
+
+He was a psychologist, and up to the day the greatest, perhaps,
+that we have known. He had a way of going out before his fellows--
+it is the way of genius--and he had gone far, indeed, before them.
+If we would trust Dr. Holcomb we have much to live for; our
+religion is not all hearsay and there is a great deal in science
+still unthought of. It is an unfortunate case; but there is much
+to be learned in the circumstance that led the great doctor into
+the Blind Spot.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+RHAMDA AVEC
+
+
+On a certain foggy morning in September, 1905, a tall man wearing
+a black overcoat and bearing in one hand a small satchel of dark-
+reddish leather descended from a Geary Street tram at the foot of
+Market Street, San Francisco. It was a damp morning; a mist was
+brooding over the city blurring all distinctness.
+
+The man glanced about him; a tall man of trim lines and
+distinctness and a quick, decided step and bearing. In the shuffle
+of descending passengers he was outstanding, with a certain inborn
+grace that without the blood will never come from training. Men
+noticed and women out of instinct cast curious furtive glances and
+then turned away; which was natural, inasmuch as the man was
+plainly old. But for all that many ventured a second glance--and
+wondered.
+
+An old man with the poise of twenty, a strange face of remarkable
+features, swarthy, of an Eastern cast, perhaps Indian; whatever
+the certainty of the man's age there was still a lingering
+suggestion of splendid youth. If one persisted in a third or
+fourth look this suggestion took an almost certain tone, the man's
+age dwindled, years dropped from him, and the quizzical smile that
+played on the lips seemed a foreboding of boyish laughter.
+
+We say foreboding because in this case it is not mistaken diction.
+Foreboding suggests coming evil; the laughter of boys is
+wholehearted. It was merely that things were not exactly as they
+should be; it was not natural that age should be so youthful. The
+fates were playing, and in this case for once in the world's
+history their play was crosswise.
+
+It is a remarkable case from the beginning and we are starting
+from facts. The man crossed to the window of the Key Route ferry
+and purchased a ticket for Berkeley, after which, with the throng,
+he passed the turnstile and on to the boat that was waiting. He
+took the lower deck, not from choice, apparently, but more because
+the majority of his fellow passengers, being men, were bound in
+this direction. The same chance brought him to the cigar-stand.
+The men about him purchased cigars and cigarettes, and as is the
+habit of all smokers, strolled off with delighted relish. The man
+watched them. Had anyone noticed his eyes he would have noted a
+peculiar colour and a light of surprise. With the prim step that
+made him so distinctive he advanced to the news-stand.
+
+"Pardon me; but I would like to purchase one of those." Though he
+spoke perfect English it was in a strange manner, after the
+fashion of one who has found something that he has just learned
+how to use. At the same time he made a suggestion with his tapered
+fingers indicating the tobacco in the case. The clerk looked up.
+
+"A cigar, sir? Yes, sir. What will it be?"
+
+"A cigar?" Again the strange articulation. "Ah, yes, that is it.
+Now I remember. And it has a little sister, the cigarette. I think
+I shall take a cigarette, if--if--if you will show me how to use
+it."
+
+It was a strange request. The clerk was accustomed to all manner
+of men and their brands of humour; he was about to answer in kind
+when he looked up and into the man's eyes. He started.
+
+"You mean," he asked, "that you have never seen a cigar or
+cigarette; that you do not know how to use them? A man as old as
+you are."
+
+The stranger laughed. It was rather resentful, but for all that of
+a hearty taint of humour.
+
+"So old? Would you say that I am as old as that; if you will look
+again--"
+
+The young man did and what he beheld is something that he could
+not quite account for: the strange conviction of this remarkable
+man; of age melting into youth, of an uncertain freshness, the
+smile, not of sixty, but of twenty. The young man was not one to
+argue, whatever his wonder; he was first of all a lad of business;
+he could merely acquiesce.
+
+"The first time! This is the first time you have ever seen a cigar
+or cigarette?"
+
+The stranger nodded.
+
+"The first time. I have never beheld one of them before this
+morning. If you will allow me?" He indicated a package. "I think I
+shall take one of these."
+
+The clerk took up the package, opened the end, and shook out a
+single cigarette. The man lit it and, as the smoke poured out of
+his mouth, held the cigarette tentatively in his fingers.
+
+"Like it?" It was the clerk who asked.
+
+The other did not answer, his whole face was the expression of
+having just discovered one of the senses. He was a splendid man
+and, if the word may be employed of the sterner sex, one of
+beauty. His features were even; that is to be noted, his nose
+chiselled straight and to perfection, the eyes of a peculiar
+sombreness and lustre almost burning, of a black of such intensity
+as to verge into red and to be devoid of pupils, and yet, for all
+of that, of a glow and softness. After a moment he turned to the
+clerk.
+
+"You are young, my lad."
+
+"Twenty-one, sir."
+
+"You are fortunate. You live in a wonderful age. It is as
+wonderful as your tobacco. And you still have many great things
+before you."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The man walked on to the forward part of the boat; leaving the
+youth, who had been in a sort of daze, watching. But it was not
+for long. The whole thing had been strange and to the lad almost
+inexplicable. The man was not insane, he was certain; and he was
+just as sure that he had not been joking. From the start he had
+been taken by the man's refinement, intellect and education. He
+was positive that he had been sincere. Yet--
+
+The ferry detective happened at that moment to be passing. The
+clerk made an indication with his thumb.
+
+"That man yonder," he spoke, "the one in black. Watch him." Then
+he told his story. The detective laughed and walked forward.
+
+It was a most fortunate incident. It was a strange case. That mere
+act of the cigar clerk placed the police on the track and gave to
+the world the only clue that it holds of the Blind Spot.
+
+The detective had laughed at the lad's recital--almost any one had
+a patent for being queer--and if this gentleman had a whim for a
+certain brand of humour that was his business. Nevertheless, he
+would stroll forward.
+
+The man was not hard to distinguish; he was standing on the
+forward deck facing the wind and peering through the mist at the
+grey, heavy heave of the water. Alongside of them the dim shadow
+of a sister ferry screamed its way through the fogbank. That he
+was a landsman was evidenced by his way of standing; he was
+uncertain; at every heave of the boat he would shift sidewise. An
+unusually heavy roll caught him slightly off-balance and jostled
+him against the detective. The latter held up his hand and caught
+him by the arm.
+
+"A bad morning," spoke the officer. "B-r-r-r! Did you notice the
+Yerbe Buena yonder? She just grazed us. A bad morning."
+
+The stranger turned. As the detective caught the splendid face,
+the glowing eyes and the youthful smile, he started much as had
+done the cigar clerk. The same effect of the age melting into
+youth and--the officer being much more accustomed to reading men--
+a queer sense of latent and potent vision. The eyes were soft and
+receptive but for all that of the delicate strength and colour
+that comes from abnormal intellect. He noted the pupils, black,
+glowing, of great size, almost filling the iris and the whole
+melting into intensity that verged into red. Either the man had
+been long without sleep or he was one of unusual intelligence and
+vitality.
+
+"A nasty morning," repeated the officer.
+
+"Ah! Er, yes--did you say it was a nasty morning? Indeed, I do not
+know, sir. However, it is very interesting."
+
+"Stranger in San Francisco?"
+
+"Well, yes. At least, I have never seen it."
+
+"H-m!" The detective was a bit nonplussed by the man's evident
+evasion. "Well, if you are a stranger I suppose it is up to me to
+come to the defence of my city. This is one of Frisco's fogs. We
+have them occasionally. Sometimes they last for days. This one is
+a low one. It will lift presently. Then you will see the sun. Have
+you ever seen Frisco's sun?"
+
+"My dear sir"--this same slow articulation--"I have never seen
+your sun nor any other."
+
+"Hum!"
+
+It was an answer altogether unexpected. Again the officer found
+himself gazing into the strange, refined face and wonderful eyes.
+The man was not blind, of that he was certain. Neither was his
+voice harsh or testy. Rather was it soft and polite, of one merely
+stating a fact. Yet how could it be? He remembered the cigar
+clerk. Neither cigar nor sun! From what manner of land could the
+man come? A detective has a certain gift of intuition. Though on
+the face of it, outside of the man's personality, there could be
+nothing to it but a joke, he chose to act upon the impulse. He
+pulled back the door which had been closed behind them and re-
+entered the boat. When he returned the boat had arrived at the
+pier.
+
+"You are going to Oakland?"
+
+It was a chance question.
+
+"No, to Berkeley. I take a train here, I understand. Do all the
+trains go to Berkeley?"
+
+"By no means. I am going to Berkeley myself. We can ride together.
+My name is Jerome. Albert Jerome."
+
+"Thanks. Mine is Avec. Rhamda Avec. I am much obliged. Your
+company may be instructive."
+
+He did not say more, but watched with unrestrained interest their
+manoeuvre into the slip. A moment later they were marching with
+the others down the gangways to the trains waiting. Just as they
+were seated and the electric train was pulling out of the pier the
+sun breaking through the mist blazed with splendid light through
+the cloud rifts. The stranger was next to the window where he
+could look out over the water and beyond at the citied shoreline,
+whose sea of housetops extended and rose to the peaks of the first
+foothills. The sun was just coming over the mountains.
+
+The detective watched. There was sincerity in the man's actions.
+It was not acting. When the light first broke he turned his eyes
+full into the radiance. It was the act of a child and, so it
+struck the officer, of the same trust and simplicity--and likewise
+the same effect. He drew away quickly: for the moment blinded.
+
+"Ah!" he said. "It is so. This is the sun. Your sun is wonderful!"
+
+"Indeed it is," returned the other. "But rather common. We see it
+every day. It's the whole works, but we get used to it. For myself
+I cannot see anything strange in the 'sun's still shining.' You
+have been blind, Mr. Avec? Pardon the question. But I must
+naturally infer. You say you have never seen the sun. I suppose--"
+
+He stopped because of the other's smile; somehow it seemed a very
+superior one, as if predicting a wealth of wisdom.
+
+"My dear Mr. Jerome," he spoke, "I have never been blind in my
+life. I say it is wonderful! It is glorious and past describing.
+So is it all, your water, your boats, your ocean. But I see there
+is one thing even stranger still. It is yourselves. With all your
+greatness you are only part of your surroundings. Do you know what
+is your sun?"
+
+"Search me," returned the officer. "I'm no astronomer. I
+understand they don't know themselves. Fire, I suppose, and a hell
+of a hot one! But there is one thing that I can tell."
+
+"And this--"
+
+"Is the truth."
+
+If he meant it for insinuation it was ineffective. The other
+smiled kindly. In the fine effect of the delicate features, and
+most of all in the eyes was sincerity. In that face was the mark
+of genius--he felt it--and of a potent superior intelligence. Most
+of all did he note the beauty and the soft, silky superlustre of
+the eyes.
+
+We have the whole thing from Jerome, at least this part of it; and
+our interest being retrospect is multiplied far above that of the
+detective. The stranger had a certain call of character and of
+appearance, not to say magnetism. The officer felt himself almost
+believing and yet restraining himself into caution of unbelief. It
+was a remark preposterous on the face of it. What puzzled Jerome
+was the purpose; he could think of nothing that would necessitate
+such statements and acting. He was certain that the man was sane.
+
+In the light of what came after great stress has been laid by a
+certain class upon this incident. We may say that we lean neither
+way. We have merely given it in some detail because of that
+importance. We have yet no proof of the mystic and until it is
+proved, we must lean, like Jerome, upon the cold material. We have
+the mystery, but, even at that, we have not the certainty of
+murder.
+
+Understand, it was intuition that led Jerome into that memorable
+trip to Berkeley; he happened to be going off duty and was drawn
+to the man by a chance incident and the fact of his personality.
+At this minute, however, he thought no more of him than as an
+eccentric, as some refined, strange wonderful gentleman with a
+whim for his own brand of humour. Only that could explain it. The
+man had an evident curiosity for everything about him, the
+buildings, the street, the cars, and the people. Frequently he
+would mutter: "Wonderful, wonderful, and all the time we have
+never known it. Wonderful!"
+
+As they drew into Lorin the officer ventured a question.
+
+"You have friends in Berkeley? I see you are a stranger. If I may
+presume, perhaps I may be of assistance?"
+
+"Well, yes, if--if--do you know of a Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+"You mean the professor. He lives on Dwight Way. At this time of
+the day you would be more apt to find him at the university. Is he
+expecting you?"
+
+It was a blunt question and of course none of his business. Yet,
+just what another does not want him to know is ever the pursuit of
+a detective. At the same time the subconscious flashing and
+wondering at the name Rhamda Avec--surely neither Teutonic nor
+Sanskrit nor anything between.
+
+"Expecting me? Ah, yes. Pardon me if I speak slowly. I am not
+quite used to speech--yet. I see you are interested. After I see
+Dr. Holcomb I may tell you. However, it is very urgent that I see
+the doctor. He--well, I may say that we have known each other a
+long time."
+
+"Then you know him?"
+
+"Yes, in a way; though we have never met. He must be a great man.
+We have much in common, your doctor and I; and we have a great
+deal to give to your world. However, I would not recognise him
+should I see him. Would you by any chance--"
+
+"You mean would I be your guide? With pleasure. It just happens
+that I am on friendly terms with your friend Dr. Holcomb."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+And now to start in on another angle. There is hardly any
+necessity for introducing Dr. Holcomb. All of us, at least, those
+who read, and, most of all, those of us who are interested in any
+manner of speculation, knew him quite well. He was the professor
+of philosophy at the University of California: a great man and a
+good one, one of those fine academic souls who, not only by their
+wisdom, but by their character, have a way of stamping themselves
+upon generations; a speaker of the upstanding class, walking on
+his own feet and utterly fearless when it came to dashing out on
+some startling philosophy that had not been borne up by his
+forebears.
+
+He was original. He believed that the philosophies of the ages are
+but stepping stones, that the wisdom of the earth looked but to
+the future, and that the study of the classics, however essential,
+is but the ground work for combining and working out the problems
+of the future. He was epigrammatic, terse, and gifted with a
+quaint humour, with which he was apt, even when in the driest
+philosophy, to drive in and clinch his argument.
+
+Best of all, he was able to clothe the most abstract thoughts in
+language so simple and concrete that he brought the deepest of all
+subjects down to the scope of the commonest thinker. It is
+needless to say that he was 'copy.' The papers about the bay were
+ever and anon running some startling story of the professor.
+
+Had they stuck to the text it would all have been well; but a
+reporter is a reporter; in spite of the editors there were
+numerous little elaborations to pervert the context. A great man
+must be careful of his speech. Dr. Holcomb was often busy
+refuting; he could not understand the need of these little
+twistings of wisdom. It kept him in controversy; the brothers of
+his profession often took him to task for these little distorted
+scraps of philosophy. He did not like journalism. He had a way of
+consigning all writers and editors to the devil.
+
+Which was vastly amusing to the reporters. Once they had him going
+they poised their pens in glee and began splashing their venomous
+ink. It was tragic; the great professor standing at bay to his
+tormentors. One and all they loved him and one and all they took
+delight in his torture. It was a hard task for a reporter to get
+in at a lecture; and yet it was often the lot of the professor to
+find himself and his words featured in his breakfast paper.
+
+On the very day before this the doctor had come out with one of
+his terse startling statements. He had a way of inserting
+parenthetically some of his scraps of wisdom. It was in an Ethics
+class. We quote his words as near as possible:
+
+"Man, let me tell you, is egotistic. All our philosophy is based
+on ego. We live threescore years and we balance it with all
+eternity. We are it. Did you ever stop and think of eternity? It
+is a rather long time. What right have we to say that life, which
+we assume to be everlasting, immediately becomes restrospect once
+it passes out of the conscious individuality which is allotted
+upon this earth? The trouble is ourselves. We are five-sensed. We
+weigh everything! We so measure eternity. Until we step out into
+other senses, which undoubtedly exist, we shall never arrive at
+the conception of infinity. Now I am going to make a rather
+startling announcement.
+
+"The past few years have promised a culmination which has been
+guessed at and yearned for since the beginning of time. It is
+within, and still without, the scope of metaphysics. Those of you
+who have attended my lectures have heard me call myself the
+material idealist. I am a mystic sensationalist. I believe that we
+can derive nothing from pure contemplation. There is mystery and
+wonder in the veil of the occult. The earth, our life, is merely a
+vestibule of the universe. Contemplation alone will hold us all as
+inapt and as impotent as the old Monks of Athos. We have mountains
+of literature behind us, all contemplative, and whatever its
+wisdom, it has given us not one thing outside the abstract. From
+Plato down to the present our philosophy has given us not one
+tangible proof, not one concrete fact which we can place our hands
+on. We are virtually where we were originally; and we can talk,
+talk, talk from now until the clap of doomsday.
+
+"What then?
+
+"My friends, philosophy must take a step sidewise. In this modern
+age young science, practical science, has grown up and far
+surpassed us. We must go back to the beginning, forget our
+subjective musings and enter the concrete. We are five-sensed, and
+in the nature of things we must bring the proof down into the
+concrete where we can understand it. Can we pierce the nebulous
+screen that shuts us out of the occult? We have doubted, laughed
+at ourselves and been laughed at; but the fact remains that always
+we have persisted in the believing.
+
+"I have said that we shall never, never understand infinity while
+within the limitations of our five senses. I repeat it. But that
+does not imply that we shall never solve some of the mystery of
+life. The occult is not only a supposition, but a fact. We have
+peopled it with terror, because, like our forebears before
+Columbus, we have peopled it with imagination.
+
+"And now to my statement.
+
+"I have called myself the Material Idealist. I have adopted an
+entirely new trend of philosophy. During the past years, unknown
+to you and unknown to my friends, I have allied myself with
+practical science. I desired something concrete. While my
+colleagues and others were pounding out tomes of wonderful
+sophistry I have been pounding away at the screen of the occult.
+This is a proud moment. I have succeeded. Tomorrow I shall bring
+to you the fact and the substance. I have lifted up the curtain
+and flooded it with the light of day. You shall have the fact for
+your senses. Tomorrow I shall explain it all. I shall deliver my
+greatest lecture; in which my whole Me has come to a focus. It is
+not spiritualism nor sophistry. It is concrete fact and common
+sense. The subject of my lecture tomorrow will be: 'The Blind
+Spot.'"
+
+Here begins the second part of the mystery.
+
+We know now that the great lecture was never delivered.
+Immediately the news was scattered out of the class-room. It
+became common property. It was spread over the country and was
+featured in all the great metropolitan dailies. In the lecture-
+room next morning seats were at a premium; students, professors,
+instructors and all the prominent people who could gain admission
+crowded into the hall; even the irrepressible reporters had stolen
+in to take down the greatest scoop of the century. The place was
+jammed until even standing room was unthought of. The crowd, dense
+and packed and physically uncomfortable, waited.
+
+The minutes dragged by. It was a long, long wait. But at last the
+bell rang that ticked the hour. Every one was expectant. And then
+fifteen minutes passed by, twenty--the crowd settled down to
+waiting. At length one of the colleagues stepped into the doctor's
+office and telephoned to his home. His daughter answered.
+
+"Father? Why he left over two hours ago."
+
+"About what time?"
+
+"Why, it was about seven-thirty. You know he was to deliver his
+lecture today on the Blind Spot. I wanted to hear it, but he told
+me I could have it at home. He said he was to have a wonderful
+guest and I must make ready to receive him. Isn't father there?"
+"Not yet. Who was this guest? Did he say?"
+
+"Oh yes! In a way. A most wonderful man. And he gave him a
+wonderful name, Rhamda Avec. I remember because it is so funny. I
+asked father if he was Sanskrit; and he said he was much older
+than that. Just imagine!"
+
+"Did your father have his lecture with him?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He glanced over it at breakfast. He told me he was going
+to startle the world as it had never been since the day of
+Columbus."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+"Yes. And he was terribly impatient. He said he had to be at the
+college before eight to receive the great man. He was to deliver
+his lecture at ten. And afterward he would have lunch at noon and
+he would give me the whole story. I'm all impatience."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+Then he came back and made the announcement that there was a
+little delay; but that Dr. Holcomb would be there shortly. But he
+was not. At twelve o'clock there were still some people waiting.
+At one o'clock the last man had slipped out of the room--and
+wondered. In all the country there was but one person who knew.
+That one was an obscure man who had yielded to a detective's
+intuition and had fallen inadvertently upon one of the greatest
+mysteries of modern times.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+"NOW THERE ARE TWO"
+
+
+The rest of the story is unfortunately all too easily told. We go
+back to Jerome and his strange companion.
+
+At Centre Street station they alighted and walked up to the
+university. Under the Le Conte oaks they met the professor. He was
+trim and happy, his short, well-built figure clothed in black, his
+snow-white whiskers trimmed to the usual square crop and his pink
+skin glowing with splendid health. The fog had by this time lifted
+and the sun was just beginning to overcome the chilliness of the
+air. There was no necessity for an introduction.
+
+The two men apparently recognised each other at once. So we have
+it from the detective. There was sincerity in the delight of their
+hand-clasp. A strange pair, both of them with the distinction and
+poise that come from refinement and intellectual training; though
+in physique they were almost opposite, there was still a strange,
+almost mutual, bond between them. Dr. Holcomb was beaming.
+
+"At last!" he greeted. "At last! I was sure we could not fail.
+This, my dear Dr. Avec, is the greatest day since Columbus."
+
+The other took the hand.
+
+"So this is the great Dr. Holcomb. Yes, indeed, it is a great day;
+though I know nothing about your Columbus. So far it has been
+simply wonderful. I can scarcely credit my senses. So near and yet
+so far. How can it be? A dream? Are you sure, Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+"My dear Rhamda, I am sure that I am the happiest man that ever
+lived. It is the culmination. I was certain we could not fail;
+though, of course, to me also it is an almost impossible climax of
+fact. I should never have succeeded without your assistance."
+
+The other smiled.
+
+"That was of small account, my dear doctor. To yourself must go
+the credit; to me the pleasure. Take your sun, for instance, I--
+but I have not the language to tell you."
+
+But the doctor had gone in to abstraction.
+
+"A great day," he was beaming. "A great day! What will the world
+say? It is proved." Then suddenly: "You have eaten?"
+
+"Not yet. You must allow me a bit of time. I thought of it; but I
+had not quite the courage to venture."
+
+"Then we shall eat," said the other man. "Afterward we shall go up
+to the lecture-room. Today I shall deliver my lecture on the Blind
+Spot. And when I am through you shall deliver the words that will
+astonish the world."
+
+But here it seems there was a hitch. The other shook his head
+kindly. It was evident that while the doctor was the leader, the
+other was a co-worker who must be considered.
+
+"I am afraid, professor, that you have promised a bit too much. I
+am not entirely free yet, you know. Two hours is the most that I
+can give you; and not entirely that. There are some details that
+may not be neglected. It is a far venture and now that we have
+succeeded this far there is surely no reason why we cannot go on.
+However, it is necessary that I return to the house on Chatterton
+Place. I have but slightly over an hour left."
+
+The doctor was plainly disappointed.
+
+"But the lecture?"
+
+"It means my life, professor, and the subsequent success of our
+experiment. A few details, a few minutes. Perhaps if we hurry we
+can get back in time."
+
+The doctor glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes for the train,
+twenty minutes for the boat, ten minutes; that's an hour, two
+hours. These details? Have you any idea how long, Rhamda?"
+
+"Perhaps not more than fifteen minutes."
+
+"We have still two hours. Fifteen minutes; perhaps a little bit
+late. Tell you what. I shall go with you. You can get on the
+boat."
+
+We have said that the detective had intuition. He had it still.
+Yet he had no rational reason for suspecting either the professor
+or his strange companion. Furthermore he had never heard of the
+Blind Spot in any way whatsoever; nor did he know a single thing
+of philosophy or anything else in Holcomb's teaching. He knew the
+doctor as a man of eminent standing and respectability. It was
+hardly natural that he should suspect anything sinister to grow
+out of this meeting of two refined scholars. He attached no great
+importance to the trend of their conversation. It was strange, to
+be sure; but he felt, no doubt, that living in their own world
+they had a way and a language of their own. He was no scholar.
+
+Still, he could think. The man Rhamda had made an assertion that
+he could not quite uncover. It puzzled him. Something told him
+that for the safety of his old friend it might be well for him to
+shadow the strange pair to the city.
+
+When the next train pulled out for the pier the two scholars were
+seated in the forward part of the car. In the last seat was a man
+deeply immersed in a morning paper.
+
+It is rather unfortunate. In the natural delicacy of the situation
+Jerome could not crowd too closely. He had no certainty of
+trouble; no proof whatever; he was known to the professor. The
+best he could do was to keep aloof and follow their movements. At
+the ferry building they hailed a taxi and started up Market
+Street. Jerome watched them. In another moment he had another
+driver and was winding behind in their wheel tracks. The cab made
+straight for Chatterton Place. In front of a substantial two-story
+house it drew up. The two men alighted. Jerome's taxi passed them.
+
+They were then at the head of the steps; a woman of slender beauty
+with a wonderful loose fold of black hair was talking. It seemed
+to the detective that her voice was fearful, of a pregnant
+warning, that she was protesting. Nevertheless, the old men
+entered and the door slammed behind them. Jerome slipped from the
+taxi and spoke a few words to the driver. A moment later the two
+men were holding the house under surveillance.
+
+They did not have long to wait. The man called Rhamda had asked
+for fifteen minutes. At the stroke of the second the front door
+re-opened. Someone was laughing; a melodious enchanting laugh and
+feminine. A woman was speaking. And then there were two forms in
+the doorway. A man and a woman. The man was Rhamda Avec, tall,
+immaculate, black clad and distinguished. The woman, Jerome was
+not certain that she was the same who opened the door or not; she
+was even more beautiful. She was laughing. Like her companion she
+was clad in black, a beautiful shimmering material which sparkled
+in the sun like the rarest silk. The man glanced carelessly up and
+down the street for a moment. Then he assisted the lady down the
+steps and into the taxi. The door slammed; and before the
+detective could gather his scattered wits they were lost in the
+city.
+
+Jerome was expecting the professor. Naturally when the door opened
+he looked for the old gentleman and his companion. It was the
+doctor he was watching, not the other. Though he had no rational
+reason for expecting trouble he had still his hunch and his
+intuition. The man and woman aroused suspicion; and likewise upset
+his calculation. He could not follow them and stay with the
+professor. It was a moment for quick decision. He wondered. Where
+was Dr. Holcomb? This was the day he was to deliver his lecture on
+the Blind Spot. He had read the announcement in the paper on the
+way back, together with certain comments by the editor. In the
+lecture itself there was mystery. This strange one, Rhamda, was
+mixed in the Blind Spot. Undoubtedly he was the essential fact and
+substance. Until now he had not scented tragedy. Why had Rhamda
+and the woman come out together? Where was the professor?
+
+Where indeed?
+
+At the end of a half-hour Jerome ventured across the street. He
+noted the number 288. Then he ascended the steps and clanged at
+the knocker. From the sounds that came from inside, the place was
+but partly furnished. Hollow steps sounded down the hallway,
+shuffling, like weary bones dragging slippers. The door opened and
+an old woman, very old, peered out of the crack. She coughed.
+Though it was not a loud cough it seemed to the detective that it
+would be her last one; there was so little of her.
+
+"Pardon me, but is Dr. Holcomb here?"
+
+The old lady looked up at him. The eyes were of blank
+expressionless blue; she was in her dotage.
+
+"You mean--oh, yes, I think so, the old man with the white
+whiskers. He was here a few minutes ago, with that other. But he
+just went out, sir, he just went out."
+
+"No, I don't think so. There was a man went out and a woman. But
+not Dr. Holcomb."
+
+"A woman? There was no woman."
+
+"Oh, yes, there was a woman--a very beautiful one."
+
+The old lady dropped her hand. It was trembling.
+
+"Oh, dear," she was saying. "This makes two. This morning it was a
+man and now it is a woman, that makes two."
+
+It seemed to the man as he looked down in her eyes that he was
+looking into great fear; she was so slight and frail and helpless
+and so old; such a fragile thing to bear burden and trouble. Her
+voice was cracked and just above a shrill whisper, almost uncanny.
+She kept repeating:
+
+"Now there are two. Now there are two. That makes two. This
+morning there was one. Now there are two."
+
+Jerome could not understand. He pitied the old lady.
+
+"Did you say that Dr. Holcomb is here?"
+
+Again she looked up: the same blank expression, she was evidently
+trying to gather her wits.
+
+"Two. A woman. Dr. Holcomb. Oh, yes, Dr. Holcomb. Won't you come
+in?"
+
+She opened the door.
+
+Jerome entered and took off his hat. Judicially he repeated the
+doctor's name to keep it in her mind. She closed the door
+carefully and touched his arm. It seemed to him that she was
+terribly weak and tottering; her old eyes, however expressionless,
+were full of pitiful pleading. She was scarcely more than a
+shadow.
+
+"You are his son?"
+
+Jerome lied; but he did it for a reason. "Yes."
+
+"Then come."
+
+She took him by the sleeve and led him to a room, then across it
+to a door in the side wall. Her step was slow and feeble; twice
+she stopped to sing the dirge of her wonder. "First a man and then
+a woman. Now there is one. You are his son." And twice she stopped
+and listened. "Do you hear anything? A bell? I love to hear it: and
+then afterward I am afraid. Did you ever notice a bell? It always
+makes you think of church and the things that are holy. This is a
+beautiful bell--first--"
+
+Either the woman was without her reason or very nearly so: she was
+very frail.
+
+"Come, mother, I know, first a bell, but Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+The name brought her back again. For a moment she was blank trying
+to recall her senses. And then she remembered. She pointed to the
+door.
+
+"In there--Dr. Holcomb. That's where they come. That's where they
+go. Dr. Holcomb. The little old man with the beautiful whiskers.
+This morning it was a man; now it is a woman. Now there are two.
+Oh, dear; perhaps we shall hear the bell."
+
+Jerome began to scent a tragedy. Certainly the old lady was
+uncanny; the house was bare and hollow; the scant furniture was
+threadbare with age and mildew; each sound was exaggerated and
+fearful, even their breathing. He placed his hand on the knob and
+opened the door.
+
+"Now there are two. Now there are two."
+
+The room was empty. Not a bit of furniture; a blank, bare
+apartment with an old-fashioned high ceiling. Nothing else.
+Whatever the weirdness and adventure, Jerome was getting nowhere.
+The old lady was still clinging to his arm and still droning:
+
+"Now there are two. Now there are two. This morning a man; now a
+woman. Now there are two."
+
+"Come, mother, come. This will not do. Perhaps--"
+
+But just then the old lady's lean fingers clinched into his arm;
+her eyes grew bright; her mouth opened and she stopped in the
+middle of her drone. Jerome grew rigid. And no wonder. From the
+middle of the room not ten feet away came the tone of a bell, a
+great silvery voluminous sound--and music. A church bell. Just one
+stroke, full toned, filling all the air till the whole room was
+choked with music. Then as suddenly it died out and faded into
+nothing. At the same time he felt the fingers on his arm relax;
+and a heap was at his feet. He reached over. The life and
+intelligence that was so near the line was just crossing over the
+border. The poor old lady! Here was a tragedy he could not
+understand. He stooped over to assist her. He was trembling. As he
+did so he heard the drone of her soul as it wafted to the shadow:
+
+"Now there are two."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+GONE
+
+
+Jerome was a strong man, of iron nerve, and well set against
+emotion; in the run of his experience he had been plumped into
+many startling situations; but none like this. The croon of the
+old lady thrummed in his ears with endless repetition. He picked
+her up tenderly and bore her to another room and placed her on a
+ragged sofa. There were still marks on her face of former beauty.
+He wondered who she was and what had been her life to come to such
+an ending.
+
+"Now there are two," the words were withering with oppression.
+Subconsciously he felt the load that crushed her spirit. It was as
+if the burden had been shifted; he sensed the weight of an
+unaccountable disaster.
+
+The place was musty and ill-lighted. He looked about him, the
+dank, close air was unwashed by daylight. A stray ray of sunshine
+filtering through the broken shutter slanted across the room and
+sought vainly to dispel the shadow. He thought of Dr. Holcomb and
+the old lady. "Now there are two." Was it a double tragedy? First
+of all he must investigate.
+
+The place was of eleven rooms, six downstairs and five on the
+upper story. With the exception of one broken chair there was no
+furniture upstairs; four of the rooms on the lower floor were
+partly furnished, two not at all. A rear room had evidently been
+to the old lady the whole of her habitation, serving as a kitchen,
+bedroom, and living-room combined. Except in this room there were
+no carpets what-ever. His steps sounded hollow and ghostly; the
+boards creaked and each time he opened a door he was oppressed by
+the same gloom of dankness and stagnation. There was no trace of
+Dr. Holcomb.
+
+He remembered the bell and sought vainly on both floors for
+anything that would give him a clue to the sound. There was
+nothing. The only thing he heard was the echoing of his own
+creaking footsteps and the unceasing tune that dinned in his
+spirit, "Now there are two."
+
+At last he came to the door and looked out into the street. The
+sun was shining and the life and pulse was rising from the city.
+It was daylight; plain, healthy day. It was good to look at. On
+the threshold of the door he felt himself standing on the border
+of two worlds. What had become of the doctor and who was the old
+lady; and lastly and just as important, who was the Rhamda and his
+beautiful companion?
+
+Jerome telephoned to headquarters.
+
+It was a strange case.
+
+At the precise minute when his would-be auditors were beginning to
+fidget over his absence, the police of San Francisco had started
+the search for the great doctor. Jerome had followed his
+intuition. It had led him into a tragedy and he was ready to swear
+almost on his soul that it was twofold. The prominence of the
+professor, together with his startling announcement of the day
+previous and the world-wide comment that it had aroused, elevated
+the case to a national interest.
+
+What was the Blind Spot? The world conjectured, and like the world
+has been since beginning, it scoffed and derided. Some there were,
+however, men well up in the latest discoveries of science, who did
+not laugh. They counselled forbearance; they would wait for the
+doctor and his lecture.
+
+There was no lecture. In the teeth of our expectation came the
+startling word that the doctor had disappeared. Apparently when on
+the very verge of announcing his discovery he had been swallowed
+by the very force that he had loosened. There was nothing in known
+science outside of optics, that could in any way be blended with
+the Blind Spot. There were but two solutions; either the professor
+had been a victim of a clever rogue, or he had been overcome by
+the rashness of his own wisdom. At any rate, it was known from
+that minute on as "THE BLIND SPOT."
+
+Perhaps it is just as well to take up the findings of the police.
+The police of course never entertained any suggestion of the
+occult. They are material; and were convinced from the start that
+the case had its origin in downright villainy. Man is complex; but
+being so, is oft overbalanced by evil Some genius had made a fool
+of the doctor.
+
+In the first place a thorough search was made for the professor.
+The house at No. 288 Chatterton Place was ransacked from cellar to
+attic. The records were gone over and it was found that the
+property had for some time been vacant; that the real ownership
+was vested in a number of heirs scattered about the country.
+
+The old lady had apparently been living on the place simply
+through sufferance. No one could find out who she was. A few
+tradesman in the vicinity had sold her some scant supplies and
+that was all. The stress that Jerome placed upon her actions and
+words was; given its due account. There were undoubtedly two
+villains; but there were two victims. That the old lady was such
+as well as the professor no one has doubted. The whole secret lay
+in the gentleman with the Eastern cast and complexion. Who was
+Rhamda Avec?
+
+And now comes the strangest part of the story. Ever, when we re-
+count the tale, there is something to overturn the theories of the
+police. It has become a sort of legend in San Francisco; one to be
+taken with a grain of salt, to be sure, but for all that, one at
+which we may well wonder. Here the supporters of the professor's
+philosophy hold their strongest point--if it is true. Of course we
+can venture no private opinion, never having been a witness. It is
+this:
+
+Rhamda Avec is with us and in our city. His description and drawn
+likeness have been published many times. There are those who aver
+that they have seen him in reality of the flesh walking through
+the crowds of Market Street.
+
+He is easily distinguished, tall and distinctive, refined to a
+high degree, and with the poise and alertness of a gentleman of
+reliance and character. Women look twice and wonder; he is neither
+old nor young; when he smiles it is like youth breaking in
+laughter. And with him often is his beautiful companion.
+
+Men vouch for her beauty and swear that it is of the kind that
+drives to distraction. She is fire and flesh and carnal--she is
+more than beauty. There is allurement about her body; sylph-like,
+sinuous; the olive tint of her complexion, the wonderful glory of
+her hair and the glowing night-black of her eyes. Men pause; she
+is of the superlative kind that robs the reason, a supreme glory
+of passion and life and beauty, at whose feet fools and wise men
+would slavishly frolic and folly. She seldom speaks, but those who
+have heard her say that it is like rippling water, of gentleness
+and softness and of the mellow flow that comes from love and
+passion and from beauty.
+
+Of course there is nothing out of the ordinary in their walking
+down the streets. Anybody might do that. The wonder comes in the
+manner in which they elude the police. They come and go in the
+broad, bright daylight. Hundreds have seen them. They make no
+effort at concealment, nor disguise. And yet no phantoms were ever
+more unreal than they to those who seek them. Who are they? The
+officers have been summoned on many occasions; but each and every
+time in some manner or way they had contrived to elude them. There
+are some who have consigned them to the limbo of illusion. But we
+do not entirely agree.
+
+In a case like this it is well to take into consideration the
+respectability and character of those who have witnessed. Phantoms
+are not corporeal; these two are flesh and blood. There is mystery
+about them; but they are substance, the same as we are.
+
+And lastly:
+
+If you will take the Key Route ferry some foggy morning you may
+see something to convince you. It must be foggy and the air must
+be grey and drab and sombre. Take the lower deck. Perhaps you will
+see nothing. If not try again; for they say you shall be rewarded.
+Watch the forward part of the boat; but do not leave the inner
+deck. The great Rhamda watching the grey swirl of the water!
+
+He stands alone, in his hands the case of reddish leather, his
+feet slightly apart and his face full of a great hungry wonder.
+Watch his features: they are strong and aglow with a great and
+wondrous wisdom; mark if you see evil. And remember. Though he is
+like you he is something vastly different. He is flesh and blood;
+but perhaps the master of one of the greatest laws that man can
+attain to. He is the fact and the substance that was promised, but
+was not delivered by the professor.
+
+This account has been largely taken from one of the Sunday
+editions of our papers. I do not agree with it entirely.
+Nevertheless, it will serve as an excellent foundation for my own
+adventures; and what is best of all, save labour.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+FRIENDS
+
+
+My name is Harry Wendel.
+
+I am an attorney and until recently boasted of a splendid practice
+and an excellent prospect for the future. I am still a young man;
+I have had a good education and still have friends and admirers.
+Such being the case, you no doubt wonder why I give a past
+reference to my practice and what the future might have held for
+me. Listen:
+
+I might as well start 'way back. I shall do it completely and go
+back to the fast-receding time of childhood.
+
+There is a recollection of childish disaster. I had been making
+strenuous efforts to pull the tail out of the cat that I might use
+it for a feather duster. My desire was supreme logic. I could not
+understand objection; the cat resisted for certain utilitarian
+reasons of its own and my mother through humane sympathy. I had
+been scratched and spanked in addition: it was the first storm
+centre that I remember. I had been punished but not subdued. At
+the first opportunity, I stole out of the house and onto the lawn
+that stretched out to the pavement.
+
+I remember the day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and
+everything was green with springtime. For a minute I stood still
+and blinked in the sunlight. It was beautiful and soft and balmy;
+the world at full exuberance; the buds upon the trees, the
+flowers, and the songbirds singing. I could not understand it. It
+was so beautiful and soft. My heart was still beating fiercely,
+still black with perversity and stricken rancour. The world had no
+right to be so. I hated with the full rush of childish anger.
+
+And then I saw.
+
+Across the street coming over to meet me was a child of my age. He
+was fat and chubby, a mass of yellow curls and laughter; when he
+walked he held his feet out at angles as is the manner of fat boys
+and his arms away from his body. I slid off the porch quietly.
+Here was something that could suffer for the cat and my mother. At
+my rush he stopped in wonder. I remember his smiling face and my
+anger. In an instant I had him by the hair and was biting with all
+the fury of vindictiveness.
+
+At first he set up a great bawl for assistance. He could not
+understand; he screamed and held his hands aloft to keep them out
+of my reach. Then he tried to run away. But I had learned from the
+cat that had scratched me. I clung on, biting, tearing. The shrill
+of his scream was music: it was conflict, sweet and delicious; it
+was strife, swift as instinct.
+
+At last I stopped him; he ceased trying to get away and began to
+struggle. It was better still; it was resistance. But he was
+stronger than I; though I was quicker he managed to get my by the
+shoulders, to force me back, and finally to upset me. Then in the
+stolid way, and after the manner of fat boys, he sat upon my
+chest. When our startled mothers came upon the scene they so found
+us--I upon my back, clinching my teeth and threatening all the
+dire fates of childhood, and he waiting either for assistance or
+until my ire should retire sufficiently to allow him to release me
+in safety.
+
+"Who did it? Who started it?"
+
+That I remember plainly.
+
+"Hobart, did you do this?" The fat boy backed off quietly and
+clung to his mother; but he did not answer.
+
+"Hobart, did you start this?"
+
+Still no answer.
+
+"Harry, this was you; you started it. Didn't you try to hurt
+Hobart?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+My mother took me by the hand and drew me away.
+
+"He is a rascal, Mrs. Fenton, and has a temper like sin; but he
+will tell the truth, thank goodness."
+
+I am telling this not for the mere relation, but by way of
+introduction. It was my first meeting with Hobart Fenton. It is
+necessary that you know us both and our characters. Our lives are
+so entwined and so related that without it you could not get the
+gist of the story. In the afternoon I came across the street to
+play with Hobart. He met me smiling. It was not in his healthy
+little soul to hold resentment. I was either all smiles or anger.
+I forgot as quickly as I battled. That night there were two happy
+youngsters tucked into the bed and covers.
+
+So we grew up; one with the other. We played as children do and
+fought as boys have done from the beginning. I shall say right now
+that the fights were mostly my fault. I started them one and all;
+and if every battle had the same beginning it likewise had the
+same ending. The first fight was but the forerunner of all the
+others.
+
+Please do not think hardly of Hobart. He is the kindest soul in
+the world; there never was a truer lad nor a kinder heart. He was
+strong, healthy, fat, and, like fat boys, forever laughing. He
+followed me into trouble and when I was retreating he valiantly
+defended the rear. Stronger, sturdier, and slower, he has been a
+sort of protector from the beginning. I have called him the Rear
+Guard; and he does not resent it.
+
+I have always been in mischief, restless, and eager for anything
+that would bring quick action; and when I got into deep water
+Hobart would come along, pluck me out and pull me to shore and
+safety. Did you ever see a great mastiff and a fox terrier running
+together? It is a homely illustration; but an apt one.
+
+We were boys together, with our delights and troubles, joys and
+sorrows. I thought so much of Hobart that I did not shirk stooping
+to help him take care of his baby sister. That is about the
+supreme sacrifice of a boy's devotion. In after years, of course,
+he has laughed at me and swears I did it on purpose. I do not
+know, but I am willing to admit that I think a whole lot of that
+sister.
+
+Side by side we grew up and into manhood. We went to school and
+into college. Even as we were at odds in our physical builds and
+our dispositions, so were we in our studies. From the beginning
+Hobart has had a mania for screws, bolts, nuts, and pistons. He is
+practical; he likes mathematics; he can talk to you from the
+binomial theorem up into Calculus; he is never so happy as when
+the air is buzzing with a conversation charged with induction
+coils, alternating currents, or atomic energy. The whole swing
+and force of popular science is his kingdom. I will say for Hobart
+that he is just about in line to be king of it all. Today he is in
+South America, one of our greatest engineers. He is bringing the
+water down from the Andes; and it is just about like those strong
+shoulders and that good head to restore the land of the Incas.
+
+About myself? I went into the law. I enjoy an atmosphere of strife
+and contention. I liked books and discussion and I thought that I
+would like the law. On the advice of my elders I entered law
+college, and in due time was admitted to practice. It was while
+studying to qualify that I first ran into philosophy. I was a lad
+to enjoy quick, pithy, epigrammatic statements. I have always
+favoured a man who hits from the shoulder. Professor Holcomb was a
+man of terse, heavy thinking; he spoke what he thought and he did
+not quibble. He favoured no one.
+
+I must confess that the old white-haired professor left his stamp
+upon me. I loved him like all the rest; though I was not above
+playing a trick on the old fellow occasionally. Still he had a wit
+of his own and seldom came out second best, and when he lost out
+he could laugh like the next one. I was deeply impressed by him.
+As I took course after course under him I was convinced that for
+all of his dry philosophy the old fellow had a trick up his
+sleeve; he had a way of expounding that was rather startling;
+likewise, he had a scarcely concealed contempt for some of the
+demigods of our old philosophy.
+
+What this trick was I could never uncover. I hung on and dug into
+great tomes of wisdom. I became interested and gradually took up
+with his speculation; for all my love of action I found that I had
+a strong subcurrent for the philosophical.
+
+Now I roomed with Hobart. When I would come home with some dry
+tome and would lose myself in it by the hour he could not
+understand it. I was preparing for the law. He could see no
+advantage to be derived from this digging into speculation. He was
+practical and unless he could drive a nail into a thing or at
+least dig into its chemical elements it was hard to get him
+interested.
+
+"Of what use is it, Harry? Why waste your brains? These old fogies
+have been pounding on the question for three thousand years. What
+have they got? You could read all their literature from the
+pyramids down to the present sky-scrapers and you wouldn't get
+enough practical wisdom to drive a dump-cart."
+
+"That's just it," I answered. "I'm not hankering for a dump-cart.
+You have an idea that all the wisdom in the world is locked up in
+the concrete; unless a thing has wheels, pistons, some sort of
+combustion, or a chemical action you are not interested. What
+gives you the control over your machinery? Brains! But what makes
+the mind go?"
+
+Hobart blinked. "Fine," he answered. "Go on."
+
+"Well," I answered, "that's what I am after."
+
+He laughed. "Great. Well, keep at it. It's your funeral, Harry.
+When you have found, it let me know and I'll beat you to the
+patent."
+
+With that he turned to his desk and dug into one of his
+everlasting formulas. Just the same, next day when I entered
+Holcomb's lecture-room I was in for a surprise. My husky room-mate
+was in the seat beside me.
+
+"What's the big idea?" I asked. "Big idea is right, Harry," he
+grinned. "Just thought I would beat you to it. Had a dickens of a
+time with Dan Clark, of the engineering department. Told him I
+wanted to study philosophy. The old boy put up a beautiful holler.
+Couldn't understand what an engineer would want with psychology or
+ethics. Neither could I until I got to thinking last night when I
+went to roost. Because a thing has never been done is no reason
+why it never will be; is it, Harry?"
+
+"Certainly not. I don't know just what you are driving at. Perhaps
+you intend to take your notes over to the machine shop and hammer
+out the Secret of the Absolute."
+
+He grinned.
+
+"Pretty wise head at that, Harry. What did you call it? The Secret
+of the Absolute. Will remember that. I'm not much on phrases; but
+I'm sure the strong boy with the hammer. You don't object to my
+sitting here beside you; so that I, too, may drink in the little
+drops of wisdom?"
+
+It was in this way that Hobart entered into the study of
+philosophy. When the class was over and we were going down the
+steps he patted me on the shoulder.
+
+"That's not so bad, Harry. Not so bad. The old doctor is there;
+he's got them going. Likewise little Hobart has got a big idea."
+
+Now it happened that this was just about six weeks before Dr.
+Holcomb announced his great lecture on the Blind Spot. It was not
+more than a week after registration. In the time ensuing Fenton
+became just as great an enthusiast as myself. His idea, of course,
+was chimerical and a blind; his main purpose was to get in with me
+where he could argue me out of my folly.
+
+He wound up by being a convert of the professor.
+
+Then came the great day. The night of the announcement we had a
+long discussion. It was a deep question. For all of my faith in
+the professor I was hardly prepared for a thing like this. Strange
+to say I was the sceptic; and stranger still, it was Hobart who
+took the side of the doctor.
+
+"Why not?" he said. "It merely comes down to this: you grant that
+a thing is possible and then you deny the possibility of a proof--
+outside of your abstract. That's good paradox, Harry; but almighty
+poor logic. If it is so it certainly can be proven. There's not
+one reason in the world why we can't have something concrete. The
+professor is right. I am with him. He's the only professor in all
+the ages."
+
+Well, it turned out as it did. It was a terrible blow to us all.
+Most of the world took it as a great murder or an equally great
+case of abduction. There were but few, even in the university, who
+embraced the side of the doctor. It was a case of villainy, of a
+couple of remarkably clever rogues and a trusting scholar.
+
+But there was one whose faith was not diminished. He had been one
+of the last to come under the influence of the doctor. He was
+practical and concrete, and not at all attuned to philosophy; he
+had not the training for deep dry thinking. He would not recede
+one whit. One day I caught him sitting down with his head between
+his hands. I touched him on the shoulder.
+
+"What's the deep study?" I asked him.
+
+He looked up. By his eyes I could see that his thoughts had been
+far away.
+
+"What's the deep study?" I repeated.
+
+"I was just thinking, Harry; just thinking."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I was just thinking, Harry, that I would like to have about one
+hundred thousand dollars and about ten years' leisure."
+
+"That's a nice thought," I answered; "I could think that myself.
+What would you do with it?"
+
+"Do? Why, there is just one thing that I would do if I had that
+much money. I would solve the Blind Spot."
+
+This happened years ago while we were still in college. Many
+things have occurred since then. I am writing this on the verge of
+disaster. How little do we know! What was the idea that buzzed in
+the head of Hobart Fenton? He is concrete, physical, fearless. He
+is in South America. I have cabled to him and expect him as fast
+as steam can bring him. The great idea and discovery of the
+professor is a fact, not fiction. What is it? That I cannot
+answer. I have found it and I am a witness to its potency.
+
+Some law has been missed through the ages. It is inexorable and
+insidious; it is concrete. Out of the unknown comes terror.
+Through the love for the great professor I have pitted myself
+against it. From the beginning it has been almost hopeless. I
+remember that last digression in ethics. "The mystery of the
+occult may be solved. We are five-sensed. When we bring the thing
+down to the concrete we may understand."
+
+Sometimes I wonder at the Rhamda. Is he a man or a phantom? Does
+he control the Blind Spot? Is he the substance and the proof that
+was promised by Dr. Holcomb? Through what process and what laws
+did the professor acquire even his partial control over the
+phenomena? Where did the Rhamda and his beautiful companion come
+from? Who are they? And lastly--what was the idea that buzzed in
+the head of Hobart Fenton?
+
+When I look back now I wonder. I have never believed in fate. I do
+not believe in it now. Man is the master of his own destiny. We
+are cowards else. Whatever is to be known we should know it. One's
+duty is ever to one's fellows. Heads up and onward. I am not a
+brave man, perhaps, under close analysis; but once I have given my
+word I shall keep it. I have done my bit; my simple duty. Perhaps
+I have failed. In holding myself against the Blind Spot I have
+done no more than would have been done by a million others. I have
+only one regret. Failure is seldom rewarded. I had hoped that my
+life would be the last; I have a dim hope still. If I fail in the
+end, there must be still one more to follow.
+
+Understand I do not expect to die. It is the unknown that I am
+afraid of. I who thought that we knew so much have found it still
+so little. There are so many laws in the weave of Cosmos that are
+still unguessed. What is this death that we are afraid of? What is
+life? Can we solve it? Is it permissible? What is the Blind Spot?
+If Hobart Fenton is right it has nothing to do with death. If so,
+what is it?
+
+My pen is weak. I am weary. I am waiting for Hobart. Perhaps I
+shall not last. When he comes I want him to know my story. What he
+knows already will not hurt repeating. It is well that man shall
+have it; it may be that we shall both fail-there is no telling;
+but if we do the world can profit by our blunders and guide
+itself--perhaps to the mastery of the phenomenon that controls the
+Blind Spot.
+
+I ask you to bear with me. If I make a few mistakes or I am a bit
+loose, remember the stress under which I am writing. I shall try
+to be plain so that all may follow.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+CHICK WATSON
+
+
+Now to go back.
+
+In due time we were both of us graduated from college. I went into
+the law and Hobart into engineering. We were both successful.
+There was not a thing to foreshadow that either of us was to be
+jerked from his profession. There was no adventure, but lots of
+work and reward in proportion.
+
+Perhaps I was a bit more fortunate. I was in love and Hobart was
+still a confirmed bachelor. It was a subject over which he was
+never done joking. It was not my fault. I was innocent. If the
+blame ran anywhere it would have to be placed upon that baby
+sister of his.
+
+It happened as it happened since God first made the maiden. One
+autumn Hobart and I started off for college. We left Charlotte at
+the gate a girl of fifteen years and ten times as many angles. I
+pulled one of her pigtails, kissed her, and told her I wanted her
+to get pretty. When we came home next summer I went over to pull
+the other pigtail. I did not pull it. I was met by the fairest
+young woman I had ever looked on. And I could not kiss her.
+Seriously, was I to blame?
+
+Now to the incident.
+
+It was a night in September. Hobart had completed his affairs and
+had booked passage to South America. He was to sail next morning.
+We had dinner that day with his family, and then came up to San
+Francisco for a last and farewell bachelor night. We could take in
+the opera together, have supper at our favourite cafe, and then
+turn in. It was a long hark back to our childhood; but for all
+that we were still boys together.
+
+I remember that night. It was our favourite opera--"Faust." It was
+the one piece that we could agree on. Looking back since, I have
+wondered at the coincidence. The old myth of age to youth and the
+subcurrent of sin with its stalking, laughing, subtle
+Mephistopheles. It is strange that we should have gone to this one
+opera on this one evening. I recall our coming out of the theatre;
+our minds thrilling to the music and the subtle weirdness of the
+theme.
+
+A fog had fallen--one of those thick, heavy, grey mists that
+sometimes come upon us in September. Into its sombre depths the
+crowd disappeared like shadows. The lights upon the streets
+blurred yellow. At the cold sheer contact we hesitated upon the
+pavement.
+
+I had on a light overcoat. Hobart, bound for the tropics, had no
+such protection. It was cold and miserable, a chill wind stirring
+from the north was unusually cutting. Hobart raised his collar and
+dug his hands into his pockets.
+
+"Brr," he muttered; "brr, some coffee or some wine. Something."
+
+The sidewalks were wet and slippery, the mists settling under the
+lights had the effect of drizzle. I touched Hobart's arm and we
+started across the street.
+
+"Brr is right," I answered, "and some wine. Notice the shadows,
+like ghosts."
+
+We were half across the street before he answered; then he
+stopped.
+
+"Ghosts! Did you say ghosts, Harry?" I noted a strange inflection
+in his voice. He stood still and peered into the fog bank. His
+stop was sudden and suggestive. Just then a passing taxicab almost
+caught us and we were compelled to dodge quickly. Hobart ducked
+out of the way and I side-stepped in another direction. We came up
+on the sidewalk. Again he peered into the shadow.
+
+"Confound that cab," he was saying, "now we have gone and missed
+him."
+
+He took off his hat and then put it back on his head. His
+favourite trick when bewildered. I looked up and down the street.
+
+"Didn't you see him? Harry! Didn't you see him? It was Rhamda
+Avec!"
+
+I had seen no one; that is to notice; I did not know the Rhamda.
+Neither did he.
+
+"The Rhamda? You don't know him."
+
+Hobart was puzzled.
+
+"No," he said; "I do not; but it was he, just as sure as I am a
+fat man."
+
+I whistled. I recalled the tale that was now a legend. The man had
+an affinity for the fog mist. To come out of "Faust" and to run
+into the Rhamda! What was the connection? For a moment we both
+stood still and waited.
+
+"I wonder--" said Hobart. "I was just thinking about that fellow
+tonight. Strange! Well, let's get something hot--some coffee."
+
+But it had given us something for discussion. Certainly it was
+unusual. During the past few days I had been thinking of Dr.
+Holcomb; and for the last few hours the tale had clung with
+reiterating persistence. Perhaps it was the weirdness and the
+tremulous intoxication of the music. I was one of the vast
+majority who disbelieved it. Was it possible that it was, after
+all, other than the film of fancy? There are times when we are
+receptive; at that moment I could have believed it.
+
+We entered the cafe and chose a table slightly to the rear. It was
+a contrast to the cold outside; the lights so bright, the glasses
+clinking, laughter and music. A few young people were dancing. I
+sat down; in a moment the lightness and jollity had stirred my
+blood. Hobart took a chair opposite. The place was full of beauty.
+In the back of my mind blurred the image of Rhamda. I had never
+seen him; but I had read the description. I wondered absently at
+the persistence.
+
+I have said that I do not believe in fate. I repeat it. Man should
+control his own destiny. A great man does. Perhaps that is it. I
+am not great. Certainly it was circumstance.
+
+In the back part of the room at one of the tables was a young man
+sitting alone. Something caught my attention. Perhaps it was his
+listlessness or the dreamy unconcern with which he watched the
+dancers; or it may have been the utter forlornness of his
+expression. I noted his unusual pallor and his cast of
+dissipation, also the continual working of his long, lean fingers.
+There are certain set fixtures in the night life of any city. But
+this was not one. He was not an habitue. There was a certain
+greatness to his loneliness and his isolation. I wondered.
+
+Just then he looked up. By a mere coincidence our eyes met. He
+smiled, a weak smile and a forlorn one, and it seemed to me rather
+pitiful. Then as suddenly his glance wandered to the door behind
+me. Perhaps there was something in my expression that caught
+Hobart's attention. He turned about.
+
+"Say, Harry, who is that fellow? I know that face, I'm certain."
+
+"Come to think I have seen him myself. I wonder--"
+
+The young man looked up again. The same weary smile. He nodded.
+And again he glanced over my shoulder toward the door. His face
+suddenly hardened.
+
+"He knows us at any rate," I ventured.
+
+Now Hobart was sitting with his face toward the entrance. He could
+see anyone coming or going. Following the young man's glance he
+looked over my shoulder. He suddenly reached over and took me by
+the forearm.
+
+"Don't look round," he warned; "take it easy. As I said--on my
+honour as a fat man."
+
+The very words foretold. I could not but risk a glance. Across the
+room a man was coming down the aisle--a tall man, dark, and of a
+very decided manner. I had read his description many times; I had
+seen his likeness drawn by certain sketch artists of the city.
+They did not do him justice. He had a wonderful way and presence--
+you might say, magnetism. I noticed the furtive wondering glances
+that were cast, especially by the women. He was a handsome man
+beyond denying, about the handsomest I had ever seen. The same
+elusiveness.
+
+At first I would have sworn him to be near sixty; the next minute
+I was just as certain of his youth. There was something about him
+that could not be put to paper, be it strength, force or vitality;
+he was subtle. His step was prim and distinctive, light as shadow,
+in one hand he carried the red case that was so often mentioned. I
+breathed an exclamation.
+
+Hobart nodded.
+
+"Am I a fat man? The famous Rhamda! What say! Ah, ha! He has
+business with our wan friend yonder. See!"
+
+And it was so. He took a chair opposite the wan one. The young man
+straightened. His face was even more familiar, but I could not
+place him. His lips were set; in their grim line--determination;
+whatever his exhaustion there was still a will. Somehow one had a
+respect for this weak one; he was not a mere weakling. Yet I was
+not so sure that he was not afraid of the Rhamda. He spoke to the
+waiter. The Rhamda began talking. I noted the poise in his manner;
+it was not evil, rather was it calm--and calculating. He made an
+indication. The young man drew back. He smiled; it was feeble and
+weary, but for all of that disdainful. Though one had a pity for
+his forlornness, there was still an admiration. The waiter brought
+glasses.
+
+The young man swallowed his drink at a gulp, the other picked his
+up and sipped it. Again he made the indication. The youth dropped
+his hand upon the table, a pale blue light followed the movement
+of his fingers. The older man pointed. So that was their
+contention? A jewel? After all our phantom was material enough to
+desire possession; his solicitude was calmness, but for all that
+aggression. I could sense a battle, but the young man turned the
+jewel to the palm side of his fingers; he shook his head.
+
+The Rhamda drew up. For a moment he waited. Was it for surrender?
+Once he started to speak, but was cut short by the other. For all
+of his weakness there was spirit to the young man. He even
+laughed. The Rhamda drew out a watch. He held up two fingers. I
+heard Hobart mumble.
+
+"Two minutes. Well, I'm betting on the young one. Too much soul.
+He's not dead; just weary."
+
+He was right. At exactly one hundred and twenty seconds the Rhamda
+closed his watch. He spoke something. Again the young man laughed.
+He lit a cigarette; from the flicker and jerk of the flame he was
+trembling. But he was still emphatic. The other rose from the
+table, walked down the aisle and out of the building. The youth
+spread out both arms and dropped his head upon the table.
+
+It was a little drama enacted almost in silence. Hobart and I
+exchanged glances. The mere glimpse of the Rhamda had brought us
+both back to the Blind Spot. Was there any connection? Who was the
+young man with the life sapped out? I had a recollection of a face
+strangely familiar. Hobart interrupted my thoughts.
+
+"I'd give just about one leg for the gist of that conversation.
+That was the Rhamda; but who is the other ghost?"
+
+"Do you think it has to do with the Blind Spot?"
+
+"I don't think," averred Hobart. "I know. Wonder what's the time."
+He glanced at his watch. "Eleven thirty."
+
+Just here the young man at the table raised up his head. The
+cigarette was still between his fingers; he puffed lamely for a
+minute, taking a dull note of his surroundings. In the well of
+gaiety and laughter coming from all parts of the room his actions
+were out of place. He seemed dazed; unable to pull himself
+together. Suddenly he looked at us. He started.
+
+"He certainly knows us," I said. "I wonder--by George, he's coming
+over."
+
+Even his step was feeble. There was exertion about every move of
+his body, the wanness and effort of vanished vitality; he balanced
+himself carefully. Slowly, slowly, line by line his features
+became familiar, the underlines of another, the ghost of one
+departed. At first I could not place him. He held himself up for
+breath. Who was he? Then it suddenly came to me--back to the old
+days at college--an athlete, one of the best of fellows, one of
+the sturdiest of men! He had come to this!
+
+Hobart was before me.
+
+"By all the things that are holy!" he exclaimed. "Chick Watson!
+Here, have a seat. In the name of Heavens, Chick! What on earth--"
+
+The other dropped feebly into the chair. The body that had once
+been so powerful was a skeleton. His coat was a disguise of
+padding.
+
+"Hello, Hobart; hello, Harry," he spoke in a whisper. "Not much
+like the old Chick, am I? First thing, I'll take some brandy."
+
+It was almost tragic. I glanced at Hobart and nodded to the
+waiter. Could it be Chick Watson? I had seen him a year before,
+hale, healthy, prosperous. And here he was--a wreck!"
+
+"No," he muttered, "I'm not sick--not sick. Lord, boys, it's good
+to meet you. I just thought I would come out for this one last
+night, hear some music, see a pretty face, perhaps meet a friend.
+But I am afraid--" He dropped off like one suddenly drifting into
+slumber.
+
+"Hustle that waiter," I said to Hobart. "Hurry that brandy."
+
+The stimulant seemed to revive him. He lifted up suddenly. There
+was fear in his eyes; then on seeing himself among friends--
+relief. He turned to me.
+
+"Think I'm sick, don't you?" he asked.
+
+"You certainly are," I answered.
+
+"Well, I'm not."
+
+For a moment silence. I glanced at Hobart. Hobart nodded.
+
+"You're just about in line for a doctor, Chick, old boy," I said.
+"I'm going to see that you have one. Bed for you, and the care of
+mother--"
+
+He started; he seemed to jerk himself together.
+
+"That's it, Harry; that's what I wanted. It's so hard for me to
+think. Mother, mother! That's why I came downtown. I wanted a
+friend. I have something for you to give to mother."
+
+"Rats," I said. "I'll take you to her. What are you talking
+about?"
+
+But he shook his head.
+
+"I wish that you were telling the truth, Harry. But it's no use--
+not after tonight. All the doctors in the world could not save me.
+I'm not sick, boys, far from it."
+
+Hobart spoke up.
+
+"What is it, Chick? I have a suspicion. Am I right?"
+
+Chick looked up; he closed his eyes.
+
+"All right, Hobart, what's your suspicion?"
+
+Fenton leaned over. It seemed to me that he was peering into the
+other's soul. He touched his forearm.
+
+"Chick, old boy, I think I know. But tell me. Am I right? It's the
+Blind Spot."
+
+At the words Watson opened his eyes; they were full of hope and
+wonder, for a moment, and then, as suddenly of a great despair.
+His body went to a heap. His voice was feeble.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "I am dying--of the Blind Spot"
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE RING
+
+
+It was a terrible thing; death stalking out of the Blind Spot. We
+had almost forgotten. It had been a story hitherto--a wonderful
+one to be sure, and one to arouse conjecture. I had never thought
+that we were to be brought to its shivering contact. It was out of
+the occult; it had been so pronounced by the professor; a great
+secret of life holding out a guerdon of death to its votaries.
+Witness Chick Watson, the type of healthy, fighting manhood--come
+to this. He opened his eyes feebly; one could see the light; the
+old spirit was there--fighting for life. What was this struggle of
+soul and flesh? Why had the soul hung on? He made another effort.
+
+"More drink," he asked; "more drink. Anything to hold me together.
+I must tell you. You must take my place and--and--fight the Blind
+Spot! Promise that--"
+
+"Order the drinks," I told Hobart. "I see Dr. Hansen over there.
+Even if we cannot save him we must hold him until we get his
+story."
+
+I went and fetched Hansen over.
+
+"A strange case," he murmured. "Pulse normal; not a trace of
+fever. Not sick, you say--" Hobart pointed to his head. "Ah, I
+see! I would suggest home and a bed."
+
+Just here Watson opened his eyes again. They rested first upon the
+doctor, then upon myself, and finally upon the brandy. He took it
+up and drank it with eagerness. It was his third one; it gave him
+a bit more life.
+
+"Didn't I tell you, boys, that there is not a doctor on earth that
+can save me? Excuse me, doc. I am not sick. I told them. I am far
+past physic; I have gone beyond medicine. All I ask is stimulant
+and life enough to tell my story."
+
+"My boy," asked the doctor kindly, "what ails you?"
+
+Watson smiled. He touched himself on the forehead.
+
+"Up here, doc. There are things in the world with which we may not
+tamper. I tried it. Somebody had to do it and somebody has to do
+it yet. You remember Dr. Holcomb; he was a great man; he was after
+the secret of life. He began it."
+
+Dr. Hansen started.
+
+"Lord!" he exclaimed, looking at us all; "you don't mean this man
+is mixed up in the Blind Spot?"
+
+We nodded. Watson smiled; again he dropped back into inertia; the
+speech he had made was his longest yet; the brandy was coming into
+effect.
+
+"Give him brandy," the doctor said; "it's as good as anything. It
+will hold him together and give him life for a while. Here." He
+reached into his pocket and flicked something into the glass.
+"That will help him. Gentlemen, do you know what it means? I had
+always thought! I knew Dr. Holcomb! Crossing over the border! It
+may not be done! The secret of life is impossible. Yet--"
+
+Watson opened his eyes again; his spirit seemed suddenly to
+flicker into defiance.
+
+"Who said it was impossible? Who said it? Gentlemen, it IS
+possible. Dr. Holcomb--pardon me. I do not wish to appear a sot;
+but this brandy is about the only thing to hold me together. I
+have only a few hours left."
+
+He took the glass, and at one gulp downed the contents. I do not
+know what the doctor had dropped into it. Chick revived suddenly,
+and a strange light blazed up in his eyes, like life rekindled.
+
+"Ah, now I am better. So?"
+
+He turned to us all; then to the doctor.
+
+"So you say the secret of life is impossible?"
+
+"I--"
+
+Chick smiled wanly. "May I ask you: what it is that has just
+flared up within me? I am weak, anaemic, fallen to pieces; my
+muscles have lost the power to function, my blood runs cold, I
+have been more than two feet over the border. And yet--a few
+drinks of brandy, of stimulants, and you have drawn me back, my
+heart beats strongly, for an hour. By means of drugs you have
+infused a new life--which of course is the old--and driven the
+material components of my body into correlation. You are
+successful for a time; so long as nature is with you; but all the
+while you are held aghast by the knowledge that the least flaw,
+the least disarrangement, and you are beaten.
+
+"It is your business to hold this life or what you may. When it
+has gone your structures, your anatomy, your wonderful human
+machine is worthless. Where has it come from? Where has it gone? I
+have drunk four glasses of brandy; I have a lease of four short
+hours. Ordinarily it would bring reaction; it is poison, to be
+sure; but it is driving back my spirit, giving me life and
+strength enough to tell my story--in the morning I shall be no
+more. By sequence I am a dead man already. Four glasses of brandy;
+they are speaking. Whence comes this affinity of substance and of
+shadow?"
+
+We all of us listened, the doctor most of all. "Go on," he said.
+
+"Can't you see?" repeated Watson. "There is affinity between
+substance and shadow; and therefore your spirit or shadow or what
+you will is concrete, is in itself a substance. It is material
+just as much as you are. Because you do not see it is no proof
+that it is not substance. That pot palm yonder does not see you;
+it is not blessed with eyes."
+
+The doctor looked at Watson; he spoke gently.
+
+"This is very old stuff, my boy, out of your abstract philosophy.
+No man knows the secret of life. Not even yourself."
+
+The light in Watson's eyes grew brighter, he straightened; he
+began slipping the ring from his finger.
+
+"No," he answered. "I don't. I have tried and it was like playing
+with lightning. I sought for life and it is giving me death. But
+there is one man living who has found it."
+
+"And this man?"
+
+"Is Dr. Holcomb!"
+
+We all of us started. We had every one given the doctor up as
+dead. The very presence of Watson was tragedy. We did not doubt
+that he had been through some terrible experience. There are
+things in the world that may not be unriddled. Some power, some
+sinister thing was reaching for his vitality. What did he know
+about the professor? Dr. Holcomb had been a long time dead.
+
+"Gentlemen. You must hear my story; I haven't long to tell it.
+However, before I start here is a proof for a beginning."
+
+He tossed the ring upon the table.
+
+It was Hobart who picked it up. A beautiful stone, like a
+sapphire; blue but uncut and of a strange pellucid transparency--a
+jewel undoubtedly; but of a kind we have never seen. We all of us
+examined it, and were all, I am afraid, a bit disappointed. It was
+a stone and nothing else.
+
+Watson watched us. The waiter had brought more brandy, and Watson
+was sipping it, not because he liked it, he said, but just to keep
+himself at the proper lift.
+
+"You don't understand it, eh? You see nothing? Hobart, have you a
+match? There, that's it; now give me the ring. See--" He struck
+the match and held the flame against the jewel. "Gentlemen, there
+is no need for me to speak. The stone will give you a volume. It's
+not trickery, I assure you, but fact. There, now, perfect. Doctor,
+you are the sceptic. Take a look at the stone."
+
+The doctor picked it up casually and held it up before his eyes.
+At first he frowned; then came a look of incredulity; his chin
+dropped and he rose in his chair.
+
+"My God," he exclaimed, "the man's living! It--he--"
+
+But Hobart and I had crowded over. The doctor held the ring so we
+could see it. Inside the stone was Dr. Holcomb!
+
+It was a strenuous moment, and the most incredible. We all of us
+knew the doctor. It was not a photograph, nor a likeness; but the
+man himself. It was beyond all reason that he could be in the
+jewel; indeed there was only the head visible; one could catch the
+expression of life, the movements of the eyelids. Yet how could it
+be? What was it? It was Hobart who spoke first.
+
+"Chick," he asked, "what's the meaning? Were it not for my own
+eyes I would call it impossible. It's absurd on the face. The
+doctor! Yet I can see him--living. Where is he?"
+
+Chick nodded.
+
+"That's the whole question. Where is he? I know and yet I know
+nothing. You are now looking into the Blind Spot. The doctor
+sought the secret of life--and found it. He was trapped by his own
+wisdom!"
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE NERVINA
+
+
+For a moment we were silent. The jewel reposed upon the table.
+What was the secret of its phenomena? I could think of nothing in
+science that would explain it. How had Watson come into its
+possession? What was the tale he had to tell? The lean, long
+finger that clutched for brandy! What force was this that had
+driven him to such a verge? He was resigned; though he was defiant
+he had already conceded his surrender. Dr. Hansen spoke.
+
+"Watson," he asked, "what do you know about the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+We all turned to Chick. Hobart ordered more brandy. The doctor's
+eyes went to slits. I could not but wonder.
+
+"Chick," I asked, "who is Rhamda Avec?"
+
+Watson turned.
+
+"You saw him a few minutes ago? You saw him with me? Let me ask
+you."
+
+"Yes," I answered, "I saw him. Most people did. Is he invisible?
+Is he really the phantom they say?"
+
+Somehow the mention of the name made him nervous; he looked
+cautiously about the room.
+
+"That I don't know, Harry. It--If I can only get my wits together.
+Is he a phantom? Yes, I think so. I can't understand him. At
+least, he has the powers we attribute to an apparition. He is
+strange and unaccountable. Sometimes you see him, sometimes you
+don't. The first known of him was on the day Professor Holcomb was
+to deliver his lecture on the Blind Spot. He was tracked, you
+know, to the very act. Then came in the Nervina."
+
+"And who is the Nervina?"
+
+Watson looked at me blankly.
+
+"The Nervina?" he asked, "The Nervina--what do you know about the
+Nervina?"
+
+"Nothing. You mentioned her just now."
+
+His mind seemed to ramble. He looked about the room rather
+fearfully. Perhaps he was afraid.
+
+"Did I mention her? I don't know, Harry, my wits are muddled. The
+Nervina? She is a goddess. Never was and never will be woman. She
+loves; she never hates, and still again she does not love. She is
+beautiful; too beautiful for man. I've quit trying."
+
+"Is she Rhamda's wife?"
+
+His eyes lit fire.
+
+"No!"
+
+"Do you love her?"
+
+He went blank again; but at last he spoke slowly.
+
+"No, I don't love her. What's the use? She's not for me. I did;
+but I learned better. I was after the professor--and the Blind
+Spot. She--"
+
+Again that look of haunted pursuit. He glanced about the room.
+Whatever had been his experience, it was plain that he had not
+given up. He held something and he held it still. What was it?
+
+"You say you didn't find the Blind Spot?"
+
+"No, I did not find it."
+
+"Have you any idea?"
+
+"My dear Harry," he answered, "I am full of ideas. That's the
+trouble. I am near it. It's the cause of my present condition. I
+don't know just what it is nor where. A condition, or a
+combination of phenomena. You remember the lecture that was never
+delivered? Had the doctor spoken that morning the world would have
+had a great fact. He had made a great discovery. It is a terrible
+thing." He turned the ring so we could all see it--beyond all
+doubt it was the doctor. "There he is--the professor. If he could
+only speak. The secret of the ages. Just think what it means.
+Where is he? I have taken that jewel to the greatest lapidaries
+and they have one and all been startled. Then they all come to the
+same conclusion--trickery--Chinese or Hindu work, they say; most
+of them want to cut."
+
+"Have you taken it to the police?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I would simply be laughed at."
+
+"Have you ever reported this Rhamda?"
+
+"A score of times. They have come and sought; but every time he
+has gone out--like a shadow. It's got to be an old story now. If
+you call them up and tell them they laugh."
+
+"How do you account for it?"
+
+"I don't. I--I--I'm just dying."
+
+"And not one member of the force--surely?"
+
+"Oh, yes. There's one. You have heard of Jerome. Jerome followed
+the professor and the Rhamda to the house of the Blind Spot, as he
+calls it. He's not a man to fool. He had eyes and he saw it. He
+will not leave it till he's dead."
+
+"But he did not see the Blind Spot, did he? How about trickery?
+Did it ever occur to you that the professor might have been
+murdered?"
+
+"Take a look at that, Harry. Does that look like murder? When you
+see the man living?"
+
+Watson reached over and turned up the jewel.
+
+Here Hobart came in.
+
+"Just a minute, Chick. My wise friend here is an attorney. He's
+always the first into everything, especially conversation. It's
+been my job pulling Harry out of trouble. Just one question."
+
+"All right."
+
+"Didn't you--er--keep company, as they say, with Bertha Holcomb
+while at college?"
+
+A kind look came into the man's eyes; he nodded; his whole face
+was soft and saddened.
+
+"I see. That naturally brought you to the Blind Spot. You are
+after her father. Am I correct?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"All right. Perhaps Bertha has taken you into some of her father's
+secrets. He undoubtedly had data on this Blind Spot. Have you ever
+been able to locate it?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"I see. This Rhamda? Has he ever sought that data?"
+
+"Many, many times."
+
+"Does he know you haven't got it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"So. I understand. You hold the whip hand through your ignorance.
+Rhamda is your villain--and perhaps this Nervina? Who is she?"
+
+"A goddess."
+
+Hobart smiled.
+
+"Oh, yes!" He laughed. "A goddess. Naturally! They all are. There
+are about forty in this room at the present moment, my dear
+fellow. Watch them dance!"
+
+Now I had picked up the ring. It just fitted the natural finger. I
+tried it on and looked into the jewel. The professor was growing
+dimmer. The marvellous blue was returning, a hue of fascination;
+not the hot flash of the diamond, but the frozen light of the
+iceberg. It was frigid, cold, terrible, blue, alluring. To me at
+the moment it seemed alive and pulselike. I could not account for
+it. I felt the lust for possession. Perhaps there was something in
+my face. Watson leaned over and touched me on the arm.
+
+"Harry," he asked, "do you think you can stand up under the
+burden? Will you take my place?"
+
+I looked into his eyes; in their black depths was almost entreaty.
+How haunting they were, and beseeching.
+
+"Will you take my place?" he begged. "Are you willing to give up
+all that God gives to the fortunate? Will you give up your
+practice? Will you hold out to the end? Never surrender? Will--"
+
+"You mean will I take this ring?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Exactly. But you must know beforehand. It would be murder to give
+it to you without the warning. Either your death or that of Dr.
+Holcomb. It is not a simple jewel. It defies description. It takes
+a man to wear it. It is subtle and of destruction; it eats like a
+canker; it destroys the body; it frightens the soul--"
+
+"An ominous piece of finery," I spoke. "Wherein--"
+
+But Watson interrupted. There was appeal in his eyes.
+
+"Harry," he went on, "I am asking. Somebody has got to wear this
+ring. He must be a man. He must be fearless; he must taunt the
+devil. It is hard work, I assure you. I cannot last much longer.
+You loved the old doctor. If we get at this law we have done more
+for mankind than either of us may do with his profession. We must
+save the old professor. He is living and he is waiting. There are
+perils and forces that we do not know of. The doctor went at it
+alone and fearless; he succumbed to his own wisdom. I have
+followed after, and I have been crushed down--perhaps by my
+ignorance. I am not afraid. But I don't want my work to die.
+Somebody has got to take it on and you are the man."
+
+They were all of them looking at me. I studied the wonderful blue
+and its light. The image of the great professor had dimmed almost
+completely. It was a sudden task and a great one. Here was a law;
+one of the great secrets of Cosmos. What was it? Somehow the lure
+caught into my vitals. I couldn't picture myself ever coming to
+the extremity of my companion. Besides, it was a duty. I owed it
+to the old doctor. It seemed somehow that he was speaking. Though
+Watson did the talking I could feel him calling. Would I be
+afraid? Besides, there was the jewel. It was calling; already I
+could feel it burning into my spirit. I looked up.
+
+"Do you take it, Harry?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"I do. God knows I am worthless enough. I'll take it up. It may
+give me a chance to engage with this famous Rhamda."
+
+"Be careful of Rhamda, Harry. And above all don't let him have the
+ring."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because. Now listen. I'm not laying this absolutely, understand.
+Nevertheless the facts all point in one direction. Hold the ring.
+Somewhere in that lustre lies a great secret; it controls the
+Blind Spot. The Rhamda himself may not take it off your finger.
+You are immune from violence. Only the ring itself may kill you."
+
+He coughed.
+
+"God knows," he spoke, "it has killed me."
+
+It was rather ominous. The mere fact of that cough and his
+weakness was enough. One would come to this. He had warned me, and
+he had besought me with the same voice as the warning.
+
+"But what is the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Then you take the ring? What is the time? Twelve. Gentlemen--"
+
+Now here comes in one of the strange parts of my story--one that I
+cannot account for. Over the shoulder of Dr. Hansen I could watch
+the door. Whether it was the ring or not I do not know. At the
+time I did not reason. I acted upon impulse. It was an act beyond
+good breeding. I had never done such a thing before. I had never
+even seen the woman.
+
+The woman? Why do I say it? She was never a woman--she was a girl--
+far, far transcendent. It was the first time I had ever seen her--
+standing there before the door. I had never beheld such beauty,
+such profile, poise--the witching, laughing, night-black of her
+eyes; the perfectly bridged nose and the red, red lips that
+smiled, it seemed to me, in sadness. She hesitated, and as if
+puzzled, lifted a jewelled hand to her raven mass of hair. To this
+minute I cannot account for my action, unless, perchance, it was
+the ring. Perhaps it was. Anyway I had risen.
+
+How well do I remember.
+
+It seemed to me that I had known her a long, long time. There was
+something about her that was not seduction; but far, far above it.
+Somewhere I had seen her, had known her. She was looking and she
+was waiting for me. There was something about her that was super
+feminine. I thought it then, and I say it now.
+
+Just then her glance came my way. She smiled, and nodded; there
+was a note of sadness in her voice.
+
+"Harry Wendel!"
+
+There is no accounting for my action, nor my wonder; she knew me.
+Then it was true! I was not mistaken! Somewhere I had seen her. I
+felt a vague and dim rush of dreamy recollections. Ah, that was
+the answer! She was a girl of dreams and phantoms. Even then I
+knew it; she was not a woman; not as we conceive her; she was some
+materialisation out of Heaven. Why do I talk so? Ah! this strange
+beauty that is woman! From the very first she held me in the
+thrall that has no explanation.
+
+"Do we dance?" she asked simply.
+
+The next moment I had her in my arms and we were out among the
+dancers. That my actions were queer and entirely out of reason
+never occurred to me. There was a call about her beautiful body
+and in her eyes that I could not answer. There was a fact between
+us, some strange bond that was beyond even passion. I danced, and
+in an extreme emotion of happiness. A girl out of the dreams and
+the ether--a sprig of life woven out of the moonbeams!
+
+"Do you know me?" she asked as we danced.
+
+"Yes," I answered, "and no. I have seen you; but I do not
+remember; you come from the sunshine."
+
+She laughed prettily.
+
+"Do you always talk like this?"
+
+"You are out of my dreams," I answered: "it is sufficient. But who
+are you?"
+
+She held back her pretty head and looked at me; her lips drooped
+slightly at the corners, a sad smile, and tender, in the soft
+wonderful depths of her eyes--a pity.
+
+"Harry," she asked, "are you going to wear this ring?"
+
+So that was it. The ring and the maiden. What was the bond? There
+was weirdness in its colour, almost cabalistic--a call out of the
+occult. The strange beauty of the girl, her remarkable presence,
+and her concern. Whoever and whatever she was her anxiety was not
+personal. In some way she was woven up with this ring and poor
+Watson.
+
+"I think I shall," I answered.
+
+Again the strange querulous pity and hesitation; her eyes grew
+darker, almost pleading.
+
+"You won't give it to me?"
+
+How near I came to doing it I shall not tell. It would be hard to
+say it. I knew vaguely that she was playing; that I was the
+plaything. It is hard for a man to think of himself as being toyed
+with. She was certain; she was confident of my weakness. It was
+resentment, perhaps, and pride of self that gave the answer.
+
+"I think I shall keep it."
+
+"Do you know the danger, Harry? It is death to wear it. A thousand
+perils--"
+
+"Then I shall keep it. I like peril. You wish for the ring. If I
+keep it I may have you. This is the first time I have danced with
+the girl out of the moonbeams."
+
+Her eyes snapped, and she stopped dancing. I don't think my words
+displeased her. She was still a woman.
+
+"Is this final? You're a fine young man, Mr. Wendel. I know you. I
+stepped in to save you. You are playing with something stranger
+than the moonbeams. No man may wear that ring and hold to life.
+Again, Harry, I ask you; for your own sake."
+
+At this moment we passed Watson. He was watching; as our eyes
+glanced he shook his head. Who was this girl? She was as beautiful
+as sin and as tender as a virgin. What interest had she in myself?
+
+"That's just the reason," I laughed. "You are too interested. You
+are too beautiful to wear it. I am a man; I revel in trouble; you
+are a girl. It would not be honourable to allow you to take it. I
+shall keep it."
+
+She had overreached herself, and she knew it. She bit her lip. But
+she took it gracefully; so much so, in fact, that I thought she
+meant it.
+
+"I'm sorry," she answered slowly. "I had hopes. It is terrible to
+look at Watson and then to think of you. It is, really"--a faint
+tremor ran through her body; her hand trembled--"it is terrible.
+You young men are so unafraid. It's too bad."
+
+Just then the door was opened; outside I could see the bank of
+fog; someone passed. She turned a bit pale.
+
+"Excuse me. I must be going. Don't you see I'm sorry--"
+
+She held out her hand--the same sad little smile. On the impulse
+of the moment, unmindful of place, I drew it to my lips and kissed
+it. She was gone.
+
+I returned to the table. The three men were watching me: Watson
+analytically, the doctor with wonder, and Hobart with plain
+disgust. Hobart spoke first.
+
+"Nice for sister Charlotte, eh, Harry?"
+
+I had not a word to say. In the full rush of the moment I knew
+that he was right. It was all out of reason. I had no excuse
+outside of sheer insanity--and dishonour. The doctor said nothing.
+It was only in Watson's face that there was a bit of
+understanding.
+
+"Hobart," he said, "I have told you. It is not Harry's fault. It
+is the Nervina. No man may resist her. She is beauty incarnate;
+she weaves with the hearts of men, and she loves no one. It is the
+ring. She, the Rhamda, the Blind Spot, and the ring. I have never
+been able to unravel them. Please don't blame Harry. He went to
+her even as I. She has but to beckon. But he kept the ring. I
+watched them. This is but the beginning."
+
+But Hobart muttered: "She's a beauty all right--a beauty. That's
+the rub. I know Harry--I know him as a brother, and I want him so
+in fact. But I'd hate to trust that woman."
+
+Watson smiled.
+
+"Never fear, Hobart, your sister is safe enough. The Nervina is
+not a woman. She is not of the flesh."
+
+"Brr," said the doctor, "you give me the creeps."
+
+Watson reached for the brandy; he nodded to the doctor.
+
+"Just a bit more of that stuff if you please. Whatever it is, on
+the last night one has no fear of habit. There--Now, gentlemen, if
+you will come with me, I shall take you to the house of the Blind
+Spot."
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+"NOW THERE ARE THREE"
+
+
+I shall never forget that night. When we stepped to the pavement
+the whole world was shrouded. The heavy fog clung like depression;
+life was gone out--a foreboding of gloom and disaster. It was
+cold, dank, miserable; one shuddered instinctively and battered
+against the wall with steaming columns of breath. Just outside the
+door we were detained.
+
+"Dr. Hansen?"
+
+Someone stepped beside us.
+
+"Dr. Hansen?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"A message, sir."
+
+The doctor made a gesture of impatience.
+
+"Bother!" he spoke. "Bother! A message. Nothing in the world would
+stop me! I cannot leave."
+
+Nevertheless he stepped back into the light.
+
+"Just a minute, gentlemen."
+
+He tore open the envelope. Then he looked up at the messenger and
+then at us. His face was startled--almost frightened.
+
+"Gentlemen," he said, "I am sorry. Not a thing in the world would
+detain me but this. I would go with you, but I may not. My duty as
+a physician. I had hopes." He came over to me and spoke softly. "I
+am going to send you one of the greatest specialists in the city
+in my stead. This young man should have attention. Have you the
+address?"
+
+"288 Chatterton Place," I answered.
+
+"Very well. I am sorry, very much disappointed. However, it is my
+daughter, and I cannot do otherwise. Continue the brandy for a
+while--and this." He slipped an envelope into my hand. "By that
+time Dr. Higgins will be with you."
+
+"You think there is hope?" I asked.
+
+"There's always hope," replied the doctor.
+
+I returned to my companions. They were walking slowly. It was work
+for poor Watson. He dragged on, leaning on Hobart's arm. But at
+last he gave up.
+
+"No," he said, "I can't make it. I'm too far gone. I had thought--
+Oh, what a lapse it has been! I am eighty years of age; one year
+ago I was a boy. If only I had some more brandy. I have some at
+the house. We must make that. I must show you; there I can give
+you the details."
+
+"Hail a cab," I said. "Here's one now."
+
+A few minutes later we were before the House of the Blind Spot. It
+was a two storey drab affair, much like a thousand others, old-
+fashioned, and might have been built in the early nineties. It had
+been outside of the fire limits of 1906, and so had survived the
+great disaster. Chatterton Place is really a short street running
+lengthwise along the summit of the hill. A flight of stone steps
+descended to the pavement.
+
+Watson straightened up with an effort.
+
+"This is the house," he spoke. "I came here a year ago. I go away
+tonight. I had hoped to find it. I promised Bertha. I came alone.
+I had reasons to believe I had solved it. I found the Rhamda and
+the Nervina. I had iron will and courage--also strength. The
+Rhamda was never able to control me. My life is gone but not my
+will. Now I have left him another. Do not surrender, Harry. It is
+a gruesome task; but hold on to the end. Help me up the steps.
+There now. Just wait a minute till I fetch a stimulant."
+
+He did not ring for a servant. That I noticed. Instead he groped
+about for a key, unlocked the door and stumbled into a room. He
+fumbled for a minute among some glasses.
+
+"Will you switch on a light?" he asked.
+
+Hobart struck a match; when he found it he pressed the switch.
+
+The room in which we were standing was a large one, fairly well
+furnished, and lined on two sides with bookshelves; in the centre
+was an oak table cluttered with papers, a couple of chairs, and on
+one of them, a heavy pipe, which, somehow, I did not think of as
+Watson's. He noticed my look.
+
+"Jerome's," he explained. "We live here--Jerome, the detective,
+and myself. He has been here since the day of the doctor's
+disappearance. I came here a year ago. He is in Nevada at present.
+That leaves me alone. You will notice the books, mostly occult:
+partly mine, partly the detective's. We have gone at it
+systematically from the beginning. We have learned almost
+everything but what would help us. Mostly sophistry--and
+guesswork. Beats all how much ink has been wasted to say nothing.
+We were after the Blind Spot."
+
+"But what is it? Is it in this house?"
+
+"I can answer one part of your question," he answered, "but not
+the other. It is here somewhere, in some place. Jerome is positive
+of that. You remember the old lady? The one who died? Her actions
+were rather positive even if feeble. She led Jerome to this next
+room." He turned and pointed; the door was open. I could see a
+sofa and a few chairs; that was all.
+
+"It was in here. The bell. Jerome never gets tired of telling. A
+church bell. In the centre of the room. At first I didn't believe;
+but now I accept it all. I know, but what I know is by intuition."
+
+"Sort of sixth sense?'
+
+"Yes. Or foresight."
+
+"You never saw this bell nor found it? Never were able to arrive
+at an explanation?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How about the Rhamda? The Nervina? Do they come to this house?"
+
+"Not often."
+
+"How do they come in? Through the window?"
+
+He smiled rather sadly. "I don't know. At least they come. You
+shall see them yourself. The Rhamda still has something to do with
+Dr. Holcomb. Somehow his very concern tells me the doctor is safe.
+Undoubtedly the professor made a great discovery. But he was not
+alone. He had a co-worker--the Rhamda. For reasons of his own the
+Rhamda wishes to control the Blind Spot."
+
+"Then the professor is in this Blind Spot?"
+
+"We think so. At least it is our conjecture. We do not know."
+
+"Then you don't think it trickery?"
+
+"No, hardly. Harry, you know better than that. Can you imagine the
+great doctor the dupe of a mere trickster? The professor was a man
+of great science and was blessed with an almighty sound head. But
+he had one weakness."
+
+Hobart spoke up.
+
+"What is it, Chick? I think I know what you mean. The old boy was
+honest?"
+
+"Exactly. He had been a scholar all his life. He taught ethics. He
+believed in right. He practised his creed. When he came to the
+crucial experiment he found himself dealing with a rogue. The
+Rhamda helped him just so far; but once he had the professor in
+his power it was not his purpose to release him until he was
+secure of the Blind Spot."
+
+"I see," I spoke. "The man is a villain. I think we can handle
+him."
+
+But Watson shook his head.
+
+"That's just it, Harry! The man! If he were a man I could have
+handled him in short order. That's what I thought at first. Don't
+make any mistake. Don't try violence. That's the whole crux of the
+difficulty. If he were only a man! Unfortunately, he is not."
+
+"Not a man!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? Then, what is he?"
+
+"He is a phantom."
+
+I glanced at Hobart and caught his eye. Hobart believed him! The
+poor pallid face of Watson, the athlete; there was nothing left to
+him but his soul! I shall not forget Watson as he sat there, his
+lean, long fingers grasping the brandy glass, his eyes burning and
+his life holding back from the pit through sheer will and courage.
+Would I come to this? Would I have the strength to measure up to
+his standard?
+
+Hobart broke the tension.
+
+"Chick's right. There is something in it, Harry. Not all the
+secrets of the universe have been unlocked by any means. Now,
+Chick, about details. Have you any data--any notes?"
+
+Watson rose. I could see he was grateful.
+
+"You believe me, don't you, Hobart? It is good. I had hoped to
+find someone, and I found you two. Harry, remember what I have
+told you. Hold the ring. You take my place. Whatever happens,
+stick out to the end. You have Hobart here to help you. Now just a
+minute. The library is here; you can look over my books. I shall
+return in a moment."
+
+He stepped out into the hall; we could hear his weary feet
+dragging down the hallway--a hollow sound and a bit uncanny.
+Somehow my mind rambled back to that account I had read in the
+newspaper--Jerome's story--"Like weary bones dragging slippers."
+And the old lady. Who was she? Why was everyone in this house
+pulled down to exhaustion--the words of the old lady, I could
+almost hear them; the dank air murmuring their recollection. "Now
+there are two. Now there are two!"
+
+"What's the matter, Harry?"
+
+Perhaps I was frightened. I do not know. I looked around. The
+sound of Watson's footsteps had died away; there was a light in
+the back of the building coming toward us.
+
+"Nothing! Only--damn this place, Hobart. Don't you notice it? It's
+enough to eat your heart out."
+
+"Rather interesting," said Hobart. It was too interesting for me.
+I stepped over to the shelves and looked at the titles. Sanskrit
+and Greek; German and French--the Vedas, Sir Oliver Lodge, Besant,
+Spinoza, a conglomeration of all ages and tongues; a range of
+metaphysics that was as wide as Babel, and about as enlightening.
+As Babel? Over my shoulders came the strangest sound of all, weak,
+piping, tremulous, fearful--"Now there are two. Now there are
+two." My heart gave a fearful leap. "Soon there will be three!
+Soon--"
+
+I turned suddenly about. I had a fearful thought. I looked at
+Hobart. A strange, insidious fear clutched at me. Was the thought
+intrinsic? If not, where had it come from? Three? I strained my
+ears to hear Watson's footsteps. He was in the back part of the
+building. I must have some air.
+
+"I'm going to open the door, Hobart," I spoke. "The front door,
+and look out into the street."
+
+"Don't blame you much. Feel a bit that way myself. About time for
+Dr. Higgins. Here comes Chick again. Take a look outside and see
+if the doc is coming."
+
+I opened the door and looked out into the dripping fog bank. What
+a pair of fools we were! We both knew it, and we were both seeking
+an excuse. In the next room through the curtains I could see the
+weak form of Watson; he was bearing a light.
+
+Suddenly the light went out.
+
+I was at high tension; the mere fact of the light was nothing, but
+it meant a world at that moment--a strange sound--a struggle--then
+the words of Watson--Chick Watson's:
+
+"Harry! Harry! Hobart! Harry! Come here! It's the Blind Spot!"
+
+It was in the next room. The despair of that call is
+unforgettable, like that of one suddenly falling into space. Then
+the light dropped to the floor. I could see the outlines of his
+figure and a weird, single string of incandescence. Hobart turned
+and I leaped. It was a blur, the form of a man melting into
+nothing. I sprang into the room, tearing down the curtains. Hobart
+was on top of me. But we were too late. I could feel the vibrancy
+of something uncanny as I rushed across the space intervening.
+Through my mind darted the thrill of terror. It had come suddenly,
+and in climax. It was over before it had commenced. The light had
+gone out. Only by the gleam from the other room could we make out
+each others' faces. The air was vibrant, magnetic. There was no
+Watson. But we could hear his voice. Dim and fearful, coming down
+the corridors of time.
+
+"Hold that ring, Harry! Hold that ring!" Then the faint despair
+out of the weary distance, faint, but a whole volume:
+
+"The Blind Spot!"
+
+It was over as quickly as that. The whole thing climaxed into an
+instant. It is difficult to describe. One cannot always analyse
+sensations. Mine, I am afraid, were muddled. A thousand insistent
+thoughts clashed through my brain. Horror, wonder, doubt! I have
+only one persistent and predominating recollection. The old lady!
+I could almost feel her coming out of the shadows. There was
+sadness and pity; out of the stillness and the corners. What had
+been the dirge of her sorrow?
+
+"NOW THERE ARE THREE!"
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+MAN OR PHANTOM
+
+
+It was Hobart who came to first. His voice was good to hear. It
+was natural; it was sweet and human, but it was pregnant with
+disappointment: "We are fools, Harry; we are fools!"
+
+But I could only stare. I remember saying: "The Blind Spot?"
+
+"Yes," returned Hobart, "the Blind Spot. But what is it? We saw him
+go. Did you see it?"
+
+"It gets me," I answered. "He just vanished into space. It--"
+Frankly I was afraid.
+
+"It tallies well with the reports. The old lady and Jerome.
+Remember?"
+
+"And the bell?" I looked about the room.
+
+"Exactly. Phenomena! Watson was right. I just wonder--but the
+bell? Remember the doctor? 'The greatest day since Columbus.' No,
+don't cross the room, Harry, I'm a bit leery: A great discovery! I
+should say it was. How do you account for it?"
+
+"Supernatural."
+
+Fenton shook his head.
+
+"By no means! It's the gateway to the universe--into Cosmos." His
+eyes sparkled. "My Lord, Harry! Don't you see! Once we control it.
+The Blind Spot! What is beyond? We saw Chick Watson go. Before our
+eyes. Where did he go to? It beats death itself."
+
+I started across the room, but Hobart caught me with both arms:
+"No, no, no, Harry. My Lord! I don't want to lose you. No! You
+foolhardly little cuss--stand back!"
+
+He threw me violently against the wall. The impact quite took my
+breath.
+
+On the instant the old rush of temper surged up in me. From
+boyhood we had these moments. Hobart settled himself and awaited
+the rush that he knew was coming. In his great, calm, brute
+strength there was still a greatness of love.
+
+"Harry," he was saying, "for the love of Heaven, listen to reason!
+Have we got to have a knock-down and drag-out on this of all
+nights? Have I got to lick you again? Do you want to roll into the
+Blind Spot?"
+
+Why did God curse me with such a temper? On such moments as this I
+could feel something within me snapping. It was fury and unreason.
+How I loved him! And yet we had fought a thousand times over just
+such provocation. Over his shoulders I could see the still open
+door that led into the street. A heavy form was looming through
+the opening; out of the corner of my eye I caught the lines of the
+form stepping out of the shadows--it crossed the room and stood
+beside Hobart Fenton. It was Rhamda Avec!
+
+I leaped. The fury of a thousand conflicts--and the exultation.
+For the glory of such moments it is well worth dying. One minute
+flying through the air--the old catapult tackle--and the next a
+crashing of bone and sinew. We rolled over, head on, and across
+the floor. Curses and execrations; the deep bass voice of Hobart:
+
+"Hold him, Harry! Hold him! That's the way! Hold him! Hold him!"
+
+We went crashing about the room. He was the slipperiest thing I
+had ever laid hold of. But he was bone--bone and sinew; he was a
+man! I remember the wild thrill of exultation at the discovery. It
+was battle! And death! The table went over, we went spinning
+against the wall, a crash of falling bookcases, books and broken
+glass, a scurry and a flying heap of legs and arms. He was
+wonderfully strong and active, like a panther. Each time I held
+him he would twist out like a cat, straighten, and throw me out of
+hold. I clung on, fighting, striving for a grip, working for the
+throat. He was a man--a man! I remembered that he must never get
+away. He must account for Watson.
+
+In the first rush I was a madman. The mere force of my onslaught
+had borne him down. But in a moment he had recovered and was
+fighting systematically. As much as he could he kept over on one
+side of me, always forcing me toward the inner room where Watson
+had disappeared. In spite of my fury he eluded every effort that I
+made for a vital part. We rolled, fought, struck and struggled.
+
+I could hear Hobart's bass thundering: "Over! Over! Under! Look
+out! Now you've got him! Harry! Harry! Look out! Hold him, for the
+love of Heaven I see his trick. That's his trick. The Blind Spot!"
+
+We were rolled clear over, picked, heaved, shoved against the
+front wall. There were three! The great heaving bulk of Fenton;
+the fighting tiger between us; and myself! Surely such strength
+was not human; we could not pin him; his quickness was uncanny; he
+would uncoil, twist himself and throw us loose. Gradually he
+worked us away from the front wall and into the centre of the
+room.
+
+Could any mere man fight so? Hobart was as good as a ton; I was as
+much for action. Slowly, slowly in spite of our efforts, he was
+working us towards the Blind Spot. Confident of success, he was
+over, around, and in and under. In a spin of a second he went into
+the attack. He fairly bore us off our feet. We were on the last
+inch of our line; the stake was--
+
+What was it? We all went down. A great volume of sound! We were
+inside a bell! My whole head buzzed to music and a roar; the whir
+of a thousand vibrations; the inside of sound. I fell face
+downwards; the room went black.
+
+What was it? How long I lay there I don't know. A dim light was
+burning. I was in a room. The ceiling overhead was worked in a
+grotesque pattern; I could not make it out. My clothes were in
+tatters and my hand was covered with blood. Something warm was
+trickling down my face. What was it? The air was still and sodden.
+Who was this man beside me? And what was this smell of roses?
+
+I lay still for a minute, thinking. Ah, yes! It came back.
+Watson--Chick Watson! The Blind Spot! The Rhamda and the bell!
+
+Surely it was a dream. How could all this be in one short night?
+It was like a nightmare and impossible. I raised up on my elbow
+and looked at the form beside me. It was Hobart Fenton. He was
+unconscious.
+
+For a moment my mind was whirring; I was too weak and unsteady. I
+dropped back and wondered absently at the roses. Roses meant
+perfume, and perfume meant a woman. What could--something touched
+my face--something soft; it plucked tenderly at my tangled hair
+and drew it away from my forehead. It was the hand of a woman!
+
+"You poor, foolish boy! You foolish boy!"
+
+Somewhere I had heard that voice; it held a touch of sadness; it
+was familiar; it was soft and silken like music that might have
+been woven out of the moonbeams. Who was it that always made me
+think of moonbeams? I lay still, thinking.
+
+"He dared; he dared; he dared!" she was saying. "As if there were
+not two! He shall pay for this! Am I to be a plaything? You poor
+boy!"
+
+Then I remembered. I looked up. It was the Nervina. She was
+stooping over with my head against her. How beautiful her eyes
+were! In their depths was a pathos and a tenderness that was past
+a woman's, the same slight droop at the corners of the mouth, and
+the wistfulness; her features were relaxed like a mother's--a
+wondrous sweetness and pity.
+
+"Harry," she asked, "where is Watson? Did he go?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"Into the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Yes. What is the Blind Spot?"
+
+She ignored the question.
+
+"I am sorry" she answered. "So sorry. I would have saved him. And
+the Rhamda; was he here, too?"
+
+I nodded. Her eyes flashed wickedly.
+
+"And--and you--tell me, did you fight with the Rhamda? You--"
+
+"It was Watson," I interrupted. "This Rhamda is behind it all. He
+is the villain. He can fight like a tiger; whoever he is he can
+fight."
+
+She frowned slightly; she shook her head.
+
+"You young men," she said. "You young men! You are all alike! Why
+must it be? I am so sorry. And you fought with the Rhamda? You
+could not overcome him, of course. But tell me, how could you
+resist him? What did you do?"
+
+What did she mean? I had felt his flesh and muscle. He was a man.
+Why could he not be conquered--not be resisted?
+
+"I don't understand," I answered. "He is a man. I fought him. He
+was here. Let him account for Watson. We fought alone at first,
+until he tried to throw me into this Thing. Then Hobart stepped
+in. Once I thought we had him, but he was too slippery. He came
+near putting us both in. I don't know. Something happened--a
+bell."
+
+Her hand was on my arm, she clutched it tightly, she swallowed
+hard; in her eyes flashed the fire that I had noticed once before,
+the softness died out, and their glint was almost terrible.
+
+"He! The bell saved you? He would dare to throw you into the Blind
+Spot!"
+
+I lay back. I was terribly weak and uncertain. This beautiful
+woman! What was her interest in myself?
+
+"Harry," she spoke, "let me ask you. I am your friend. If you only
+knew! I would save you. It must not be. Will you give me the ring?
+If I could only tell you! You must not have it. It is death--yes,
+worse than death. No man may wear it."
+
+So that was it. Again and so soon I was to be tempted. Was her
+concern feigned or real? Why did she call me Harry? Why did I not
+resent it? She was wonderful; she was beautiful; she was pure. Was
+it merely a subtle act for the Rhamda? I could still hear Watson's
+voice ringing out of the Blind Spot; "Hold the ring! Hold the
+ring!" I could not be false to my friend.
+
+"Tell me first," I asked. "Who is this Rhamda? What is he? Is he a
+man?"
+
+"No."
+
+Not a man! I remembered Watson's words: "A phantom!" How could it
+be? At least I would find out what I could.
+
+"Then tell me, what is he?"
+
+"She smiled faintly; again the elusive tenderness lingered about
+her lips, the wistful droop at the corners.
+
+"That I may not tell you, Harry. You couldn't understand. If only
+I could."
+
+Certainly I couldn't understand her evasion. I studied and watched
+her--her wondrous hair, the perfection of her throat, the curve of
+her bosom.
+
+"Then he is supernatural."
+
+"No, not that, Harry. That would explain everything. One cannot go
+above Nature. He is living just as you are."
+
+I studied a moment.
+
+"Are you a woman?" I asked suddenly.
+
+Perhaps I should not have asked it; she was so sad and beautiful,
+somehow I could not doubt her sincerity. There was a burden at the
+back of her sadness, some great yearning unsatisfied,
+unattainable. She dropped her head. The hand upon my arm quivered
+and clutched spasmodically; I caught the least sound of a sob.
+When I looked up her eyes were wet and sparkling.
+
+"Oh," she said. "Harry, why do you ask it? A woman! Harry, a
+woman! To live and love and to be loved. What must it be? There is
+so much of life that is sweet and pure. I love it--I love it! I
+can have everything but the most exalted thing of all. I can live,
+see, enjoy, think, but I cannot have love. You knew it from the
+first. How did you know it? You said--Ah, it is true! I am out of
+the moonbeams." She controlled herself suddenly. "Excuse me," she
+said simply. "But you can never understand. May I have the ring?"
+
+It was like a dream--her beauty, her voice, everything. But I
+could still hear Watson. I was to be tempted, cajoled, flattered.
+What was this story out of the moonbeams? Certainly she was the
+most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Why had I asked such a
+question?
+
+"I shall keep the ring," I answered.
+
+She sighed. A strange weakness came over me; I was drowsy; I
+lapsed again into unconsciousness; just as I was fading away I
+heard her speaking: "I am so sorry!"
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+BAFFLED
+
+
+Was it a dream? The next I knew somebody was dousing water down my
+neck. It was Hobart Fenton. "Lord," he was saying, "I thought you
+were never coming to. What hit us? You are pretty well cut up.
+That was some fight. This Rhamda, who is he? Can you figure him
+out? Did you hear that bell? What was it?"
+
+I sat up. "Where is the Nervina?" I asked. "The who?" He was
+bewildered. "Oh, down at the cafe, I suppose. Thought you had
+forgotten her. Wasn't her mate enough? It might be healthy to
+forget his Nervina."
+
+He was a fine sight; his clothes were in ribbons; his plump figure
+was breaking out at the seams. He regarded me critically.
+
+"What d'you think of the Blind Spot?" he asked. "Who is the
+Rhamda? He put us out pretty easily."
+
+"But the girl?" I interrupted. "The girl? Confound it, the girl?"
+
+It was sometime before I could make him understand; even then he
+refused to believe me.
+
+"It was all a dream," he said; "all a dream."
+
+But I was certain.
+
+Fenton began prodding about the room. I do not believe any
+apartment was ever so thoroughly ransacked. We even tore up the
+carpet. When we were through he sat in the midst of the debris and
+wiped his forehead.
+
+"It's no use, Harry--no use. We might have known better. It can't
+be done. Yet you say you saw a string of incandescence."
+
+"A single string; the form of Watson; a blur--then nothing," I
+answered.
+
+He thought. He quoted the professor:
+
+"'Out of the occult I shall bring you the proof and the substance.
+It will be concrete--within the reach of your senses.' Isn't that
+what the doctor said?"
+
+"Then you believe Professor Holcomb?"
+
+"Why not? Didn't we see it? I know a deal of material science; but
+nothing like this. I always had faith in Dr. Holcomb. After all,
+it's not impossible. First we must go over the house thoroughly."
+
+We did. Most of all, we were interested in that bell. We did not
+think, either of us, that so much noise could come out of nothing.
+It was too material. The other we could credit to the occult; but
+not the sound. It had drowned our consciousness; perhaps it had
+saved us from the Rhamda. But we found nothing. We went over the
+house systematically. It was much as it had been previously
+described, only now a bit more furnished. The same dank, musty
+smell and the same suggestive silence. We returned to the lower
+floor and the library. It was a sorry sight. We straightened up
+the shelves and returned the books to their places.
+
+It was getting along toward morning. Hobart sailed at nine
+o'clock. We must have new clothing and some coffee; likewise we
+must collect our wits. I had the ring, and had given my pledge to
+Watson. I was muddled. We must get down to sane action. First of
+all we must return to our rooms.
+
+The fog had grown thicker; one could almost taste it. I couldn't
+suppress a shudder. It was cold, dank, repressive. Neither of us
+spoke a word on our way downtown. Hobart opened the door to our
+apartment; he turned on the lights.
+
+In a few moments we had hot, steaming cups of coffee. Still we did
+not speak. Hobart sat in his chair, his elbows on the table and
+his head between his hands. My thoughts ran back to that day in
+college when he said "I was just thinking, Harry, if I had one
+hundred thousand dollars, I would solve the Blind Spot."
+
+That was long ago. We had neither of us thought that we would come
+to the fact.
+
+"Well," I spoke, "have you got that hundred thousand dollars? You
+had an idea once."
+
+He looked up. "I've got it yet. I am not certain. It is merely a
+theory. But it's not impossible."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+He took another drink of coffee and settled back in his chair.
+
+"It is energy, Harry--force. Nothing but energy--and Nature."
+
+"Then it's not occult?" I asked.
+
+"Certainly it is. I didn't say that. It is what the professor
+promised. Something concrete for our senses. If the occult is, it
+can certainly be proven. The professor was right. It is energy,
+force, vibration. It has a law. The old doctor was caught somehow.
+We must watch our step and see that we aren't swallowed up also.
+Perhaps we shall go the way of Watson."
+
+I shuddered.
+
+"I hope not. But explain. You speak in volumes. Come back to
+earth."
+
+"That's easy, Harry. I can give you my theory in a few short
+words. You've studied physiology, haven't you? Well, that's where
+you can get your proof--or rather let me say my theory. What is
+the Blind Spot?"
+
+"In optics?"
+
+"We'll forgo that," he answered. "I refer to this one."
+
+I thought for a moment.
+
+"Well," I said, "I don't know. It was something I couldn't see.
+Watson went out before our eyes. He was lost."
+
+"Exactly. Do you get the point?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It is this. What you see is merely energy. Your eye is merely a
+machine. It catches certain colours. Which in turn are merely
+rates of vibration. There is nothing to matter but force, Harry;
+if we could get down deep enough and know a few laws, we could
+transmute it."
+
+"What has it to do with the occult?" "Merely a fact. The eye
+machine catches only certain vibration speeds of energy. There are
+undoubtedly any number of speeds; the eye cannot see them."
+
+"Then this would account for the Blind Spot?"
+
+"Exactly. A localised spot, a condition, a combination of
+phenomena, anything entering it becomes invisible."
+
+"Where does it go to?"
+
+"That's it. Where? It's one of the things that man has been
+guessing at down the ages. The professor is the first philosopher
+with sound sense. He went after it. It's a pity he was trapped."
+
+"By the Rhamda?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Hobart smiled.
+
+"How do I know? Where did he come from? If we knew that, we would
+know everything. 'A phantom,' so Watson says. If so, it only
+strengthens our theory. It would make a man and matter only a part
+of creation. Certainly it would clear up a lot of doubts."
+
+"And the ring?"
+
+"It controls the Blind Spot."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"That's for us to find out."
+
+"And Watson? He is in this land of doubt?"
+
+"At least he is in the Blind Spot. Let me try the ring."
+
+He struck a match.
+
+It was much as it had been in the restaurant, only a bit more
+startling. Then the blue faded, the colour went out, and it became
+transparent. For a moment. There was an effect of space and
+distance that I had not noted before, almost marvellous. If I
+could describe it at all, I would say a crystal corridor of a
+vastness that can scarcely be imagined. It made one dizzy, even in
+that bit of jewel: one lost proportion, it was height, distance,
+space immeasurable. For an instant. Then the whole thing blurred
+and clouded. Something passed across the face; the transparency
+turned to opaqueness, and then--two men. It was as sudden as a
+flash--the materialisation. There was no question. They were
+alive. Watson was with the professor.
+
+It was a strange moment. Only an hour before one of them had been
+with us. It was Watson, beyond a doubt. He was alive; one could
+almost believe him in the jewel. We had heard his story: "The
+screen of the occult; the curtain of shadow." We had seen him go.
+There was an element of horror in the thing, and of fascination.
+The great professor! The faithful Watson! Where had they gone?
+
+It was not until the colour had come back and the blue had
+regained its lustre that either of us looked up. Could such a
+thing be unravelled? Fenton turned the stone over thoughtfully. He
+shook his head.
+
+"In that jewel, Harry, lies the secret. I wish I knew a bit more
+about physics, light, force, energy, vibration. We have got to
+know."
+
+"Your theory?"
+
+"It still holds good."
+
+I thought.
+
+"Let me get it clear, Hobart. You say that we catch only certain
+vibrations."
+
+"That's it. Our eyes are instruments, nothing else. We can see
+light, but we cannot hear it. We hear sound, but we cannot see it.
+Of course they are not exactly parallel. But it serves the point.
+Let's go a bit further. The eye picks up certain vibrations. Light
+is nothing but energy vibrating at a tremendous speed. It has to
+be just so high for the eye to pick it up. A great deal we do not
+get. For instance, we can only catch one-twelfth of the solar
+spectrum. Until recently we have believed only what we could see.
+Science has pulled us out of the rut. It may pull us through the
+Blind Spot."
+
+"And beyond."
+
+Hobart held up his hands.
+
+"It is almost too much to believe. We have made a discovery. We
+must watch our step. We must not lose. The work of Dr. Holcomb
+shall not go for nothing."
+
+"And the ring?"
+
+He consulted his watch.
+
+"We have only a short time left. We must map our action. We have
+three things to work on--the ring, the house, Bertha Holcomb. It's
+all up to you, Harry. Find out all that is possible; but go slow.
+Trace down that ring; find out everything that you can. Go and see
+Bertha Holcomb. Perhaps she can give you some data. Watson said
+no; but perhaps you may uncover it. Take the ring to a lapidary;
+but don't let him cut it. Last of all, and most important, buy the
+house of the Blind Spot. Draw on me. Let me pay half, anyway."
+
+"I shall move into it," I answered.
+
+He hesitated a bit.
+
+"I am afraid of that," he answered. "Well, if you wish. Only be
+careful. Remember I shall return just as soon as I can get loose.
+If you feel yourself slipping or anything happens, send me a
+cable."
+
+The hours passed all too quickly. When day came we had our
+breakfast and hurried down to the pier. It was hard to have him
+go. His last words were like Hobart Fenton. He repeated the
+warning.
+
+"Watch your step, Harry; watch your step. Take things easy; be
+cautious. Get the house. Trace down the ring. Be sure of yourself.
+Keep me informed. If you need me, cable. I'll come if I have to
+swim."
+
+His last words; and not a year ago. It seems now like a lifetime.
+As I stood upon the pier and watched the ship slipping into the
+water, I felt it coming upon me. It had grown steadily, a gloom
+and oppression not to be thwarted; it is silent and subtle and
+past defining--like shadow. The grey, heavy heave of the water;
+the great hull of the steamer backing into the bay; the gloom of
+the fog bank. A few uncertain lines, the shrill of the siren, the
+mist settling; I was alone. It was isolation.
+
+I had been warned by Watson. But I had not guessed. At the moment
+I sensed it. It was the beginning. Out of my heart I could feel
+it--solitude.
+
+In the great and populous city I was to be alone, in all its
+teeming life I was to be a stranger. It has been almost a year--a
+year! It has been a lifetime. A breaking down of life!
+
+I have waited and fought and sought to conquer. One cannot fight
+against shadow. It is merciless and inexorable. There are secrets
+that may be locked forever. It was my duty, my pledge to Watson,
+what I owed to the professor. I have hung on grimly; what the end
+will be I do not know. I have cabled for Fenton.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+A DEAL IN PROPERTY
+
+
+But to return. There was work that I should do--much work if I was
+going after the solution. In the first place, there was the house.
+I turned my back to the waterfront and entered the city. The
+streets were packed, the commerce of man jostled and threaded
+along the highways; there was life and action, hope, ambition. It
+was what I had loved so well. Yet now it was different.
+
+I realised it vaguely, and wondered. This feeling of aloofness? It
+was intrinsic, coming from within, like the withering of one's
+marrow. I laughed at my foreboding; it was not natural; I tried to
+shake myself together.
+
+I had no difficulty with the records. In less than an hour I
+traced out the owners, "an estate," and had located the agent. It
+just so happened that he was a man with whom I had some
+acquaintance. We were not long in coming to business.
+
+"The house at No. 288 Chatterton Place?"
+
+I noticed that he was startled; there was a bit of wonder in his
+look--a quizzical alertness. He motioned me to a chair and closed
+the door.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Wendel; sit down. H-m! The house at No. 288
+Chatterton Place? Did I hear you right?"
+
+Again I noted the wonder; his manner was cautious and curious. I
+nodded.
+
+"Want to buy it or just lease it? Pardon me, but you are sort of a
+friend. I would not like to lose your friendship for the sake of a
+mere sale. What is your--"
+
+"Just for a residence," I insisted. "A place to live in."
+
+"I see. Know anything about this place?"
+
+"Do you?"
+
+He fumbled with some papers. For an agent he did not strike me as
+being very solicitous for a commission.
+
+"Well," he said, "in a way, yes. A whole lot more than I'd like
+to. It all depends. One gets much from hearsay. What I know is
+mostly rumour." He began marking with a pencil. "Of course I don't
+believe it. Nevertheless I would hardly recommend it to a friend
+as a residence."
+
+"And these rumours?"
+
+He looked up; for a moment he studied; then:
+
+"Ever hear of the Blind Spot? Perhaps you remember Dr. Holcomb--in
+1905, before the 'quake. It was a murder. The papers were full of
+it at the time; since then it has been occasionally featured in
+the supplements. I do not believe in the story; but I can trust to
+facts. The last seen of Dr. Holcomb was in this house. It is
+called the Blind Spot."
+
+"Then you believe in the story?" I asked.
+
+He looked at me.
+
+"Oh, you know it, eh? No, I do not. It's all bunkum; reporters'
+work and exaggeration. If you like that kind of stuff, it's weird
+and interesting. But it hurts property. The man was undoubtedly
+murdered. The tale hangs over the house. It's impossible to
+dispose of the place."
+
+"Then why not sell it to me?"
+
+He dropped his pencil; he was a bit nervous.
+
+"A fair question, Mr. Wendel--a very fair question. Well, now, why
+don't I? Perhaps I shall. There's no telling. But I'd rather not.
+Do you know, a year ago I would have jumped at an offer. Fact is,
+I did lease it--the lease ran out yesterday--to a man named
+Watson. I don't believe a thing in this nonsense; but what I have
+seen during the past year has tested my nerve considerably."
+
+"What about Watson?"
+
+"Watson? A year ago he came to see me in regard to this Chatterton
+property. Wanted to lease it. Was interested in the case of Dr.
+Holcomb; asked for a year's rental and the privilege of renewal. I
+don't know. I gave it to him; but when he drops in again I am
+going to fight almighty hard against letting him hold it longer."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why? Why, because I don't believe in murder. A year ago he came
+to me the healthiest and happiest man I ever saw; today he is a
+shadow. I watched that boy go down. Understand, I don't believe a
+damn word I'm saying; but I have seen it. It's that cursed house.
+I say no, when I reason; but it keeps on my nerves; it's on my
+conscience. It is insidious. Every month when he came here I could
+see disintegration. It's pitiful to see a young man stripped of
+life like that; forlorn, hopeless, gone. He has never told me what
+it is; but I have wondered. A battle; some conflict with--there I
+go again. It's on my nerves, I tell you, on my nerves. If this
+keeps up I'll burn it."
+
+It was a bit foreboding. Already I could feel the tugging at my
+heart that had done for Watson. This man had watched my friend
+slipping into the shadow; I had come to take his place.
+
+"Watson has gone," I said simply; "and that's why I am here."
+
+He straightened up.
+
+"You know him then. He was not--"
+
+"He went last night; he has left the country. He was in very poor
+health. That's why I am here. I know very well the cloud that
+hangs over the property; it is my sole reason for purchasing."
+
+"You don't believe in this nonsense?"
+
+I smiled. Certainly the man was perverse in his agnosticism; he
+was stubborn in disbelief. It was on his nerves; on his
+conscience; he was afraid.
+
+"I believe nothing," I answered; "neither do I disbelieve. I know
+all the story that has been told or written. I am a friend of
+Watson. You need not scruple in making me out a bill of sale. It's
+my own funeral. I abide by the consequences."
+
+He gave a sigh of relief. After all, he was human. He had honour;
+but it was after the brand of Pontius Pilate. He wished nothing on
+his conscience.
+
+Armed with the keys and the legal title, I took possession. In the
+daylight it was much as it had been the night before. Once across
+its threshold, one was in dank and furtive suppression; the air
+was heavy; a mould of age had streaked the walls and gloomed the
+shadows. I put up all the curtains to let in the rush of sunlight,
+likewise I opened the windows. If there is anything to beat down
+sin, it is the open measure of broad daylight.
+
+The house was well situated; from the front windows one could look
+down the street and out at the blue bay beyond the city. The fog
+had lifted and the sun was shining upon the water. I could make
+out the ferryboats, the islands, and the long piers that lead to
+Oakland, and still farther beyond the hills of Berkeley. It was a
+long time since those days in college. Under the shadow of those
+hills I had first met the old doctor. I was only a boy then.
+
+I turned into the building. Even the sound of my footsteps was
+foreign; the whole place was pregnant with stillness and shadow;
+life was gone out. It was fearful; I felt the terror clutching
+upon me, a grimness that may not be spoken; there was something
+breaking within me. I had pledged myself for a year. Frankly I was
+afraid.
+
+But I had given my word. I returned to my apartments and began
+that very day the closing down of my practice. In a fortnight I
+had completed everything and had moved my things to the room of
+Chick Watson.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+ALBERT JEROME
+
+
+Just as soon as possible I hurried over to Berkeley. I went
+straight to the bungalow on Dwight Way; I inquired for Miss
+Holcomb. She was a woman now in her late twenties, decidedly
+pretty, a blonde, and of intelligent bearing.
+
+Coming on such an errand, I was at a loss just how to approach
+her. I noted the little lines about the corners of her eyes, the
+sad droop of her pretty mouth. Plainly she was worried. As I was
+removing my hat she caught sight of the ring upon my finger.
+
+"Oh," she said; "then you come from Mr. Watson. How is Chick?"
+
+"Mr. Watson"--I did not like lying, but I could not but feel for
+her; she had already lost her father--"Mr. Watson has gone on a
+trip up-country--with Jerome. He was not feeling well. He has left
+this ring with me. I have come for a bit of information."
+
+She bit her lips; her mouth quivered.
+
+"Couldn't you get this from Mr. Watson? He knows about the stone.
+Didn't he tell you? How did it come into your possession? What has
+happened?"
+
+Her voice was querulous and suspicious. I had endeavoured to
+deceive her for her own sake; she had suffered enough already. I
+could not but wince at the pain in her eyes. She stood up.
+
+"Please, Mr. Wendel; don't be clumsy. Don't regard me as a mere
+baby. Tell me what has happened to Chick. Please--"
+
+She stopped in a flow of emotion. Tears came to her eyes; but she
+held control. She sat down.
+
+"Tell me all, Mr. Wendel. It is what I expected." She blinked to
+hold back her tears. "It is my fault. You wouldn't have the ring
+had nothing happened. Tell me. I can be brave."
+
+And brave she was--splendid. With the tug at my own heart I could
+understand her. What uncertainty and dread she must have been
+under! I had been in it but a few days; already I could feel the
+weight. At no time could I surmount the isolation; there was
+something going from me minute by minute. With the girl there
+could be no evasion; it were better that she have the truth. I
+made a clean breast of the whole affair.
+
+"And he told you no more about the ring?"
+
+"That is all," I answered. "He would have told us much more,
+undoubtedly, had he not--"
+
+"You saw him go--you saw this thing?"
+
+"That is just it, Miss Holcomb. We saw nothing. One minute we were
+looking at Chick, and the next at nothing. Hobart understood it
+better than I. At least he forbade my crossing the room. There is
+a danger point, a spot that may not be crossed. He threw me back.
+It was then that the Rhamda came upon the scene." She frowned
+slightly.
+
+"Tell me about the Nervina. When Chick spoke of her, I could
+always feel jealous. Is she beautiful?"
+
+"Most beautiful, the most wonderful girl I have ever seen, though
+I would hardly class her as one to be jealous of. But she wants
+the ring. I've promised Watson, and of course I shall keep it. But
+I would like its history."
+
+"I think I can give you some information there," she answered.
+"The ring, or rather the jewel, was given to father about twenty
+years ago by a Mr. Kennedy. He had been a pupil of father's when
+father taught at a local school. He came here often to talk over
+old times. Father had the jewel set in a ring; but he never wore
+it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"How did Watson come to link it up with the Blind Spot?"
+
+"That, I think, was an accident. He was in college, you know, at
+the time of father's disappearance. In fact, he was in the Ethics
+class. He came here often, and during one of his visits I showed
+him the ring. That was several years ago."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Well, about a year ago he was here again, and asked to see the
+jewel. We were to be married, you understand; but I had always put
+it off because of father. Somehow I felt that he would return. It
+was in late summer, about September; it was in the evening; it was
+getting dark. I gave Chick the ring, and stepped into the garden
+to cut some flowers. I remember that Chick struck a match in the
+parlour. When I came back he seemed to be excited."
+
+"Did he ask you for the ring?"
+
+"Yes. He wanted to wear it. And he suddenly began to talk of
+father. It was that night that he took it upon himself to find
+him."
+
+"I see. Not before that night? Did he take the ring then?"
+
+"Yes. We went to the opera. I remember it well, because that night
+was the first time I ever knew Chick to be gloomy."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes. You know how jolly he always was. When we returned that
+night he would scarcely say a word. I thought he was sick; but he
+said he was not; said he just felt that way."
+
+"I understand. And he kept getting glummer? Did you suspect the
+jewel? Did he ever tell you anything?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"No. He told me nothing, except that he would find father. Of
+course, I became excited and wanted to know. But he insisted that
+I couldn't help; that he had a clue, and that it might take time.
+From that night I saw very little of him. He leased the house on
+Chatterton Place. He seemed to lose interest in myself; when he
+did come over he would act queerly. He talked incoherently, and
+would often make rambling mention of a beautiful girl called
+Nervina. You say it is the ring? Tell me, Mr. Wendel, what is it?
+Has it really anything to do with father?"
+
+I nodded.
+
+"I think it has, Miss Holcomb. And I can understand poor Chick. He
+is a very brave man. It's a strange jewel and of terrible potency;
+that much I know. It devitalises; it destroys. I can feel it
+already. It covers life with a fog of decay. The same solitude has
+come upon myself. Nevertheless I am certain it has much to do with
+the Blind Spot. It is a key of some sort. The very interest of the
+Rhamda and the Nervina tells us that. I think it was through this
+stone that your father made his discovery."
+
+She thought a moment.
+
+"Hadn't you better return it? While you still have health? If you
+keep it, it will be only one more."
+
+"You forget, Miss Holcomb, my promise to Chick. I loved your
+father, and I was fond of Watson. It's a great secret and, if the
+professor is right, one which man has sought through the ages. I'd
+be a coward to forgo my duty. If I fail, I have another to take my
+place."
+
+"Oh," she said, "it's horrible. First father; then Chick; now you;
+and afterwards it will be Mr. Fenton."
+
+"It is our duty," I returned. "One by one. Though we may fail,
+each one of us may pass a bit more on to his successor. In the end
+we win. It is the way of man."
+
+I had my way. She turned over all the data and notes that had been
+left by the professor; but I never found a thing in them that
+could be construed to an advantage. My real quest was to trace
+down the jewel. The man Kennedy's full name was, I learned, Budge
+Kennedy. He had lived in Oakland. It was late in the afternoon
+when I parted with Miss Holcomb and started for the city.
+
+I remember it well because of a little incident that occurred
+immediately after our parting. I was just going down the steps
+when I looked up one of the side streets. A few students were
+loitering here and there. But there was one who was not a student.
+I recognised him instantly, and I wondered. It was the Rhamda.
+This was enough to make me suspicious. But there was one thing
+more. Farther up the street was another figure.
+
+When I came down the steps the Rhamda moved, and his move was
+somehow duplicated by the other. In itself this was enough to
+clear up some of my doubts concerning the phantom. His actions
+were too simple for an apparition. Only a man would act like that,
+and a crude one. I didn't know then the nerve of the Rhamda. There
+was no doubt that I was being shadowed.
+
+To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious
+route to the station. There was no question; one and two they
+followed. I knew the Rhamda; but who was the other?
+
+At the station we purchased tickets, and when the train pulled in
+I boarded a smoker. The other two took another coach--the stranger
+was a thick-set individual with a stubby, grey moustache. On the
+boat I didn't see them; but at the ferry building I made a test to
+see that I was followed. I hailed a taxi and gave specific
+instructions to the driver.
+
+"Drive slowly," I told him. "I think we shall be followed."
+
+And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging our
+wheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerning the Rhamda; but I couldn't
+understand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and I
+alighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither
+stopped. Both disappeared round the corner. I took the numbers;
+then I went into the house. In about a half hour a car drew up at
+the curb. I stepped to the window. It was the car that had tracked
+the Rhamda's. The stubby individual stepped out; without ceremony
+he ran up the steps and opened the door. It was a bit
+disconcerting, I think, for both. He was plain and blunt--and
+honest.
+
+"Well," he said, "where's Watson? Who are you? What do you want?"
+
+"That," I answered, "is a question for both of us. Who are you,
+and what do you want? Where is Watson?"
+
+Just then his eyes dropped and his glance fell and eyes widened.
+
+"My name is Jerome," he said simply. "Has something happened to
+Watson? Who are you?"
+
+We were standing in the library; I made an indication towards the
+other room. "In there," I said. "My name is Wendel."
+
+He took off his hat and ran the back of his hand across his
+forehead.
+
+"So that pair got him, too! I was afraid of them all the while.
+And I had to be away. Do you know how they did it? What's the
+working of their game? It's devilish and certainly clever. They
+played that boy for a year; they knew they would get him in the
+end. So did I.
+
+"He was a fine lad, a fine lad. I knew this morning when I came
+down from Nevada that they had him. Found your duds. A stranger.
+House looked queer. But I had hopes he might have gone over to see
+his girl. Just thought I'd wander over to Berkeley. Found that
+bird Rhamda under a palm tree watching the Holcomb bungalow. It
+was the first time I'd seen him since that day things went amiss
+with the professor. In about ten minutes you came out. I stayed
+with him while he tracked you back here; I followed him back down
+town and lost him. Tell me about Watson."
+
+He sat down; during my recital he spoke not a word. He consumed
+one cigar after another; when I stopped for a moment he merely
+nodded his head and waited until I continued. He was sturdy and
+frank, of an iron way and vast common sense. I liked him. When I
+had finished he remained silent; his grief was of a solid kind! he
+had liked poor Watson.
+
+"I see," he said. "It is as I thought. He told you more than he
+ever told me."
+
+"He never told you?"
+
+"Not much. He was a strange lad--about the loneliest one I've ever
+seen. There was something about him from the very first that was
+not natural; I couldn't make him out. You say it is the ring. He
+always wore it. I laid it to this Rhamda. He was always meeting
+him. I could never understand it. Try as I would, I could not get
+a trace of the phantom."
+
+"The phantom?"
+
+"Most assuredly. Would you call him human?" His grey eyes were
+flecked with light. "Come now, Mr. Wendel, would you?"
+
+"Well," I answered, "I don't know. Not after what I have seen. But
+for all that, I have proof of his sinews. I am inclined to blend
+the two. There is a law somewhere, a very natural one. The Blind
+Spot is undoubtedly a combination of phenomena; it has a control.
+We do not know what it is, or where it leads to; neither do we
+know the motive of the Rhamda. Who is he? If we knew that, we
+would know everything."
+
+"And this ring?"
+
+"I shall wear it."
+
+"Then God help you. I watched Watson. It's plain poison. You have
+a year; but you had better count on half a year; the first six
+months aren't so bad; but the last--it takes a man! Wendel, it
+takes a man! Already you're eating your heart out. Oh, I know--you
+have opened the windows; you want sunshine and air. In six months
+I shall have to fight to get one open. It gets into the soul; it
+is stagnation; you die by inches. Better give me the ring."
+
+"This Budge Kennedy," I evaded, "we must find him. We have time.
+One clue may lead us on. Tell me what you know of the Blind Spot."
+
+"Very easy," he answered; "you have it all. I have been here a
+number of years. You will remember I fell into the case through
+intuition. I never had any definite proof, outside the professor's
+disappearance, the old lady, and that bell; unless perhaps it is
+the Rhamda. But from the beginning I've been positive.
+
+"Taking that lecture in ethics as a starter, I built up my theory.
+All the clues lead to this building. It's something that I cannot
+understand. It's out of the occult. It's a bit too much for me. I
+moved into the place and waited. I've never forgotten that bell,
+nor that old lady. You and Fenton are the only ones who have seen
+the Blind Spot."
+
+I had a sudden thought.
+
+"The Rhamda! I have read that he has the manner of inherent
+goodness. Is it true? You have conversed with him. I haven't."
+
+"He has. He didn't strike me as a villain. He's intrinsic, noble,
+out of self. I have often wondered."
+
+I smiled. "Perhaps we are thinking the same thing. Is this it? The
+Blind Spot is a secret that man may not attain to. It is
+unknowable and akin to death. The Rhamda knows it. He couldn't
+head off the professor. He simply employed Dr. Holcomb's wisdom to
+trap him; now that he has him secure, he intends to hold him. It
+is for our own good."
+
+"Exactly. Yet--"
+
+"Yet?"
+
+"He was very anxious to put you and Fenton into this very Spot."
+
+"That is so. But may it not be that we, too, knew a bit too much?"
+
+He couldn't answer that.
+
+Nevertheless, we were both of us convinced concerning the Rhamda.
+It was merely a digression of thought, a conjecture. He might be
+good; but we were both positive of his villainy. It was his
+motive, of course, that weighed up his character; could we find
+that, we would uncover everything.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+A NEW ELEMENT
+
+
+Budge Kennedy was not so easily found. There were many Kennedys.
+About two-thirds of Ireland had apparently migrated to San
+Francisco under that name and had lodged in the directory. We went
+through the lists on both sides of the bay, but found nothing; the
+old directories had mostly been destroyed by fire or had been
+thrown away as worthless; but at last we unearthed one. In it we
+found the name of Budge Kennedy.
+
+He had two sons--Patrick and Henry. One of these, Henry, we ran
+down in the Mission. He was a great, red-headed, broad-shouldered
+Irishman. He was just eating supper when we called; there were
+splotches of white plaster on his trousers.
+
+I came right to the point: "Do you know anything about this?" I
+held out the ring.
+
+He took it in his fingers; his eyes popped. "What, that! Well, I
+guess I do! Where'd you get it?" He called out to the kitchen:
+"Say, Mollie, come here. Here's the old man's jool!" He looked at
+me a bit fearfully. "You aren't wearing it?"
+
+"Why not?" I asked.
+
+"Why? Well, I don't know exactly. I wouldn't wear it for a million
+dollars. It ain't a jool; it's a piece of the divil. The old man
+gave it to Dr. Holcomb--or sold it, I don't know which. He carried
+it in his pocket once, and he came near dying."
+
+"Unlucky?" I asked.
+
+"No, it ain't unlucky; it just rips your heart out. It would make
+you hate your grandmother. Lonesome! Lonesome! I've often heard
+the old man talking."
+
+"He sold it to Dr. Holcomb? Do you know why?"
+
+"Well, yes. 'Twas that the old doc had some scientific work. Dad
+told him about his jool. One day he took it over to Berkeley. It
+was some kind of thing that the professor just wanted. He kept it.
+Dad made him promise not to wear it."
+
+"I see. Did your father ever tell you where he got it?"
+
+"Oh, yes. He often spoke about that. The old man wasn't a
+plasterer, you know--just a labourer. He was digging a basement.
+It was a funny basement--a sort of blind cellar. There was a stone
+wall right across the middle, and then there was a door of wood to
+look like stone. You can go down into the back cellar, but not
+into the front. If you don't know about the door, you'll never
+find it. Dad often spoke about that. He was working in the back
+cellar when he found this. 'Twas sticking in some blue clay."
+
+"Where was this place? Do you remember?"
+
+"Sure. 'Twas in Chatterton Place. Pat and I was kids then; we took
+the old man's dinner."
+
+"Do you know the number?"
+
+"It didn't have no number; but I know the place. 'Tis a two-story
+house, and was built in 'ninety-one."
+
+I nodded. "And afterwards you moved to Oakland?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did your father ever speak of the reason for this partition in
+the cellar?"
+
+"He never knew of one. It was none of his business. He was merely
+a labourer, and did what he was paid for."
+
+"Do you know who built it?"
+
+"Some old guy. He was a cranky cuss with side-whiskers. He used to
+wear a stove-pipe hat. I think he was a chemist. Whenever he
+showed up he would run us kids out of the building. I think he was
+a bachelor."
+
+This was all the information he could give, but it was a great
+deal. Certainly it was more than I had hoped for. The house had
+been built by a chemist; even in the construction there was
+mystery. I had never thought of a second cellar; when I had
+explored the building I had taken the stone wall for granted. It
+was so with Jerome. It was the first definite clue that really
+brought us down to earth. What had this chemist to do with the
+phenomena?
+
+After all, behind everything was lurking the mind of man.
+
+We hastened back to the house and into the cellar. By merely
+sounding along the wall we discovered the door; it was cleverly
+constructed and for a time defied our efforts; but Jerome got it
+open by means of a jemmy and a pick. The outside was a clever
+piece of sham work shaped like stone and smeared over with cement.
+In the dim light we had missed it.
+
+We had high expectations. But we were disappointed. The space
+contained nothing; it was smeared with cobwebs and hairy mould;
+but outside of a few empty bottles and the gloomy darkness there
+was nothing. We tapped the walls and floor and ceiling. Beyond all
+doubt the place once held a secret; if it held it still, it was
+cleverly hidden. After an hour or two of search we returned to the
+upper part of the building.
+
+Jerome was not discouraged.
+
+"We're on the right track, Mr. Wendel; if we can only get started.
+I have an idea. The chemist--it was in 'ninety-one--that's more
+than twenty years."
+
+"What is your idea?"
+
+"The Rhamda. What is the first thing that strikes you? His age.
+With everyone that sees him it's the same. At first you take him
+for an old man; if you study him long enough, you are positive
+that he is in his twenties. May he not be this chemist?"
+
+"What becomes of the doctor and his Blind Spot?"
+
+"The Blind Spot," answered Jerome, "is merely a part of the
+chemistry."
+
+Next day I hunted up a jeweller. I was careful to choose one with
+whom I was acquainted. I asked for a private consultation. When we
+were alone I took the ring from my finger.
+
+"Just an opinion," I asked. "You know gems. Can you tell me
+anything about this one?"
+
+He picked it up casually, and turned it over; his mouth puckered.
+For a minute he studied.
+
+"That? Well, now." He held it up. "Humph. Wait a minute."
+
+"Is it a gem?"
+
+"I think it is. At first I thought I knew it right off; but now--
+wait a minute."
+
+He reached in the drawer for his glass. He held the stone up for
+some minutes. His face was a study; queer little wrinkles twisting
+from the corners of his eyes told his wonder. He did not speak;
+merely turned the stone round and round. At last he removed his
+glass and held up the ring. He was quizzical.
+
+"Where did you get this?" he asked.
+
+"That is something I do not care to answer. I wish to know what it
+is. Is it a gem? If so, what kind?"
+
+He thought a moment and shook his head.
+
+"I thought I knew every gem on earth. But I don't. This is a new
+one. It is beautiful--just a moment." He stepped to the door. In a
+moment another man stepped in. The jeweller motioned towards the
+ring. The man picked it up and again came the examination. At last
+he laid the glass and ring both upon the table.
+
+"What do you make of it, Henry?" asked the jeweller.
+
+"Not me," answered the second one. "I never saw one like it."
+
+It was as Watson had said. No man had ever identified the jewel.
+The two men were puzzled; they were interested. The jeweller
+turned to me.
+
+"Would you care to leave it with us for a bit; you have no
+objection to us taking it out of the ring?"
+
+I had not thought of that. I had business down the street. I
+consulted my watch.
+
+"In half an hour I shall be back. Will that be enough time?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+It was an hour before I returned. The assistant was standing at
+the door of the office. He spoke something to the one inside and
+then made an indication to myself. He seemed excited; when I came
+closer I noted that his face was full of wonder.
+
+"We've been waiting," said he. "We didn't examine the stone; it
+wasn't necessary. It is truly wonderful." He was a short, squat
+man with a massive forehead. "Just step inside."
+
+Inside the office the jeweller was sitting beside a table; he was
+leaning back in his chair; he had his hands clasped over his
+stomach. He was gazing toward the ceiling; his face was a study,
+full of wonder and speculation.
+
+"Well?" I asked.
+
+For an answer he merely raised his finger, pointed towards the
+ceiling.
+
+"Up there," he spoke. "Your jewel or whatever it is. A good thing
+we weren't in open air. 'Twould be going yet."
+
+I looked up. Sure enough, against the ceiling was the gem. It was
+a bit disconcerting, though I will confess that in the first
+moment I did not catch the full significance.
+
+The jeweller closed one eye and studied first myself and then the
+beautiful thing against the ceiling.
+
+"What do you make of it?" he asked.
+
+Really I had not made anything; it was a bit of a shock; I hadn't
+grasped the full impossibility. I didn't answer.
+
+"Don't you see, Mr. Wendel? Impossible! Contrary to nature!
+Lighter than air. We took it out of the ring and it shot out like
+a bullet. Thought I'd dropped it. Began looking on the floor.
+Couldn't find it; looked up and saw Reynolds, here, with his eyes
+popping out like marbles. He was looking at the ceiling."
+
+I thought for a moment.
+
+"Then it is not a gem?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. "Not if I'm a jeweller. Whoever heard
+of a stone without weight? It has no gravity, that is, apparently.
+I doubt whether it is a substance. I don't know what it is."
+
+It was puzzling. I would have given a good deal just then for a
+few words with Dr. Holcomb. The man, Kennedy, had kept it in his
+pocket. How had he held it a prisoner? The professor had use for
+it in some scientific work! No wonder! Certainly it was not a
+jewel. What could it be? It was solid. It was lighter than air.
+Could it be a substance? If not; what is it?
+
+"What would you advise?"
+
+In answer the jeweller reached for the telephone. He gave a
+number.
+
+"Hello. Say, is Ed there? This is Phil. Tell him to step to the
+phone. Hello! Say, Ed, I want you to come over on the jump.
+Something to show you. Too busy! No, you're not. Not for this. I'm
+going to teach you some chemistry. No; this is serious. What is
+it? I don't know. What's lighter than air? Lots of things? Oh, I
+know. But what solid? That's why I'm asking. Come over. All right.
+At once."
+
+He hung up the receiver.
+
+"My brother," he spoke. "It has passed beyond my province and into
+his. He is a chemist. As an expert he may give you a real
+opinion."
+
+Surely we needed one. It was against reason. It had taken me
+completely off my balance. I took a chair and joined the others in
+the contemplation of the blue dot on the ceiling. We could
+speculate and conjecture; but there was not one of us deep enough
+even to start a theory. Plainly it was what should not be. We had
+been taught physics and science; we had been drilled to
+fundamentals. If this thing could be, then the foundations upon
+which we stood were shattered. But one little law! Back in my mind
+was buzzing the enigma of the Blind Spot. They were woven
+together. Some law that had eluded the ken of mankind.
+
+The chemist was a tall man with a hook nose and black eyes that
+clinched like rivets. He was a bit impatient. He looked keenly at
+his brother.
+
+"Well, Phil, what is it?" He pulled out a watch, "I haven't much
+time."
+
+There was a contrast between them. The jeweller was fat and
+complacent. He merely sat in his chair, his hand on his waistband
+and a stubby finger elevated toward the jewel. He seemed to enjoy
+it.
+
+"You're a chemist, Ed. Here's a test for your wisdom. Can you
+explain that? No, over here. Above your head. That jewel?"
+
+The other looked up.
+
+"What's the idea? New notion for decoration? Or"?--a bit testily--
+"is this a joke?" He was a serious man; his black eyes and the
+nose spoke his character.
+
+The jeweller laughed gently.
+
+"Listen, Ed--" Then he went into explanation; when he was through
+the chemist was twitching with excitement.
+
+"Get me a ladder. Here, let me get on the table; perhaps I can
+reach it. Sounds impossible, but if it's so, it's so; it must have
+an explanation."
+
+Without ado and in spite of the protests of his brother he stepped
+upon the polished surface of the table. He was a tall man; he
+could just barely reach it with the tip of his finger. He could
+move it; but each time it clung as to a magnet. After a minute of
+effort he gave it up. When he looked down he was a different man;
+his black eyes glowed with wonder.
+
+"Can't make it," he said. "Get a step-ladder. Strange!"
+
+With the ladder it was easy. He plucked it off the ceiling. We
+pressed about the table. The chemist turned it about with his
+fingers.
+
+"I wonder," he was saying. "It's a gem. Apparently. You say it has
+no gravity. It can't be. Whoop!" He let it slip out of his
+fingers. Again it popped on its way to the ceiling. He caught it
+with a deft movement of his hand. "The devil! Did you ever see!
+And a solid! Who owns this?"
+
+That brought it back to me. I explained what I could of the manner
+of my possession.
+
+"I see. Very interesting. Something I've never seen--and--frankly--
+something strictly against what I've been taught. Nevertheless,
+it's not impossible. We are witnesses at least. Would you care if
+I take this over to the laboratory?"
+
+It was a new complication. If it were not a jewel there was a
+chance of its being damaged. I was as anxious as he; but I had
+been warned as to its possession.
+
+"I shan't harm it. I'll see to that. I have suspicions and I'd
+like to verify them. A chemist doesn't blunder across such a thing
+every day. I am a chemist." His eyes glistened.
+
+"Your suspicions?" I asked.
+
+"A new element."
+
+This gem. A new element. Perhaps that would explain the Blind
+Spot. It was not exactly of earth. Everything had confirmed it.
+
+"You--A new element? How do you account for it? It defies your
+laws. Most of your elements are evolved through tedious process.
+This is picked up by chance."
+
+"That is so. But there are still a thousand ways. A meteor,
+perhaps; a bit of cosmic dust--there are many shattered comets.
+Our chemistry is earthly. There are undoubtedly new elements that
+we don't know of. Perhaps in enormous proportion."
+
+I let him have it. It was the only night I had been away from the
+ring. I may say that it is the only time I have been free from its
+isolation.
+
+When I called at his office next day I found he had merely
+confirmed his suspicions. It defied analysis; there was no
+reaction. Under all tests it was a stranger. The whole science
+that had been built up to explain everything had here explained
+nothing. However there was one thing that he had uncovered--heat.
+Perhaps I should say magnetism. It was cold to man. I have spoken
+about the icy blue of its colour. It was cold even to look at. The
+chemist placed it in my hand.
+
+"Is it not so?"
+
+It was. The minute it touched my palm I could sense the weird
+horror of the isolation; the stone was cold. Just like a piece of
+ice.
+
+This was the first time I had ever had it in direct contact with
+the flesh. Set in the ring its impulse had always been secondary.
+
+"You notice it? It is so with me. Now then. Just a minute."
+
+He pressed a button. A young lady answered his ring; she glanced
+first at myself and then at the chemist.
+
+"Miss Mills, this is Mr. Wendel. He is the owner of the gem. Would
+you take it in your hand? And please tell Mr. Wendel how it feels--"
+
+She laughed; she was a bit perplexed.
+
+"I don't understand"--she turned to me--"we had the same dispute
+yesterday. See, Mr. White says that it's cold; but it is not. It
+is warm; almost burning. All the other girls think just as I do."
+
+"And all the men as I do," averred the chemist, "even Mr. Wendel."
+
+"Is it cold to you?" she asked. "Really--"
+
+It was a turn I hadn't looked for. It was akin to life--this
+relation to sex. Could it account for the strange isolation and
+the weariness? I was a witness to its potency. Watson! I could
+feel myself dragging under. I had just one question:
+
+"Tell me, Miss Mills. Can you sense anything else; I mean beyond
+its temperature?"
+
+She smiled a bit. "I don't know what you mean exactly. It is a
+beautiful stone. I would like to have it."
+
+"You think its possession would make you happy?"
+
+Her eyes sparkled.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed. "I know it would! I can feel it!"
+
+It was so. Whatever there was in the bit of sapphirine blue, it
+had life. What was it? It had relation to sex. In the strict line
+of fact it was impossible.
+
+When we were alone again I turned to the chemist.
+
+"Is there anything more you uncovered? Did you see anything in the
+stone?"
+
+He frowned. "No. Nothing else. This magnetism is the only thing.
+Is there anything more?"
+
+Now I hadn't said anything about its one great quality. He hadn't
+stumbled across the image of the two men. I couldn't understand
+it. I didn't tell him. Perhaps I was wrong. Down inside me I
+sensed a subtle reason for secrecy. It is hard to explain. It was
+not perverseness; it was a finer distinction; perhaps it was the
+influence of the gem. I took it back to the jeweller again and had
+it reset.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+AGAIN THE NERVINA
+
+
+It was at this point that I began taking notes. There is something
+psychological to the Blind Spot, weird and touching on the spirit.
+I know not what it is; but I can feel it. It impinges on to life.
+I can sense the ecstasy of horror. I am not afraid. Whatever it is
+that is dragging me down, it is not evil. My sensations are not
+normal.
+
+For the benefit of my successor, if there is to be one, I have
+made an elaborate detail of notes and comments. After all, the
+whole thing, when brought down to the end, must fall to the
+function of science. When Hobart arrives, whatever my fate, he
+will find a complete and comprehensive record of my sensations. I
+shall keep it up to the end. Such notes being dry and sometimes
+confusing I have purposely omitted them from this narrative. But
+there are some things that must be given to the world. I shall
+pick out the salient parts and give them chronologically.
+
+Jerome stayed with me. Rather I should say he spent the nights
+with me. Most of the time he was on the elusive trail of the
+Rhamda. From the minute of our conversation with Kennedy he held
+to one conviction. He was positive of that chemist back in the
+nineties. He was certain of the Rhamda. Whatever the weirdness of
+his theory it would certainly bear investigation. When he was not
+on the trail over the city he was at work in the cellar. Here we
+worked together.
+
+We dug up the concrete floor and did a bit of mining. I was
+interested in the formation.
+
+From the words of Budge Kennedy the bit of jewel had been
+discovered at the original excavation. We found the blue clay that
+he spoke of, but nothing else. Jerome dissected every bit of earth
+carefully. We have spent many hours in that cellar.
+
+But most of the time I was alone. When not too worn with the
+loneliness and weariness I worked at my notes. It has been a hard
+task from the beginning. Inertia, lack of energy! How much of our
+life is impulse! What is the secret that backs volition? It has
+been will--will-power from the beginning. I must thank my
+ancestors. Without the strength and character built up through
+generations, I would have succumbed utterly.
+
+Even as it is I sometimes think I am wrong in following the
+dictates of Watson. If I were only sure. I have pledged my word
+and my honour. What did he know? I need all the reserve of
+character to hold up against the Nervina. From the beginning she
+has been my opponent. What is her interest in the Blind Spot and
+myself? Who is she? I cannot think of her as evil. She is too
+beautiful, too tender; her concern is so real. Sometimes I think
+of her as my protector, that it is she, and she alone who holds
+back the power which would engulf me. Once she made a personal
+appeal.
+
+Jerome had gone. I was alone. I had dragged myself to the desk and
+my notes and data. It was along toward spring and in the first
+shadows of the early evening. I had turned on the lights. It was
+the first labour I had done for several days. I had a great deal
+of work before me. I had begun sometime before to take down my
+temperature. I was careful of everything now, as much as I could
+be under the depression. So far I had discerned nothing that could
+be classed as pathological.
+
+There is something subtle about the Nervina. She is much like the
+Rhamda. Perhaps they are the same. I hear no sound, I have no
+notion of a door or entrance. Watson had said of the Rhamda,
+"Sometimes you see him, sometimes you don't." It is so with the
+Nervina. I remember only my working at the data and the sudden
+movement of a hand upon my desk--a girl's hand. It was
+bewildering. I looked up.
+
+I had not seen her since that night. It was now eight months--did
+I not know, I would have recorded them as years. Her expression
+was a bit more sad--and beautiful. The same wonderful glow of her
+eyes, night-black and tender; the softness that comes from
+passion, and love, and virtue. The same wistful droop of the
+perfect mouth. What a wondrous mass of hair she had! I dropped my
+pen. She took my hand. I could sense the thrill of contact; cool
+and magnetic.
+
+"Harry!"
+
+She said no more; I did not answer; I was too taken by surprise
+and wonder. I could feel her concern as I would a mother's. What
+was her interest in myself? The contact of her hand sent a strange
+pulse through my vitals; she was so beautiful. Could it be? Watson
+said he loved her. Could I blame him?
+
+"Harry," she asked, "how long is it to continue?"
+
+So that was it. Merely an envoy to accept surrender. I was worn
+utterly, weary of the world, lonely. But I hadn't given up. I had
+strength still, and will enough to hold out to the end. Perhaps I
+was wrong. If I gave her the ring? what then?
+
+"I am afraid," I answered, "that I must go on. I have given my
+word. It has been much harder than I expected. This jewel? What
+has it to do with the Blind Spot?"
+
+"It controls it."
+
+"Does the Rhamda desire it?"
+
+"He does."
+
+"Why doesn't he call for it personally? Why doesn't he make a
+clean breast of it? It would be much easier. He knows and you know
+that I am after Dr. Holcomb and Watson. I might even forego the
+secret. Would he release the doctor?"
+
+"No, Harry, he would not."
+
+"I see. If I gave up the ring it would be merely for my personal
+safety. I am a coward--"
+
+"Oh," she said, "don't say that. You must give the ring to me--not
+to the Rhamda. He must not control the Blind Spot."
+
+"What is the Blind Spot? Tell me."
+
+"Harry," she spoke, "I cannot. It is not for you or any other
+mortal. It is a secret that should never have been uncovered. It
+might be the end. In the hands of the Rhamda it would certainly be
+the end of mankind."
+
+"Who is the Rhamda? Who are you? You are too beautiful to be
+merely woman. Are you a spirit?"
+
+She pressed my hand ever so slightly. "Do I feel like a spirit? I
+am material as much as you are. We live, see--everything."
+
+"But you are not of this world?"
+
+Her eyes grew sadder; a soft longing.
+
+"Not exactly, Harry, not exactly. It is a long story and a very
+strange one. I may not tell you. It is for your own good. I am
+your friend"--her eyes were moist--"I--don't you see? Oh, I would
+save you!"
+
+I did not doubt it. Somehow she was like a girl of dreams, pure as
+an angel; her wistfulness only deepened her beauty. It came like a
+shock at the moment. I could love this woman. She was--what was I
+thinking? My guilty mind ran back to Charlotte. I had loved her
+since boyhood. I would be a coward--then a wild fear. Perhaps of
+jealousy.
+
+"The Rhamda? Is he your husband? You are the same--"
+
+"Oh," she answered, "why do you say it?" Her eyes snapped and she
+grew rigid. "The Rhamda! My husband! If you only knew. I hate him!
+We are enemies. It was he who opened the Blind Spot. I am here
+because he is evil. To watch him. I love your world, I love it
+all. I would save it. I love--"
+
+She dropped her head. Whatever she was, she was not above sobbing.
+
+I touched her hair; it was of the softest texture I have ever
+seen; the lustre was like all the beauty of night woven into silk.
+She loved, loved; I could love--I was on the point of surrender.
+
+"Tell me," I asked, "just one thing more. If I gave you this ring
+would you save the doctor and Chick Watson?"
+
+She raised her head; her eyes glistened; but she did not answer.
+
+"Would you?"
+
+She shook her head. "I cannot," she answered. "That cannot be. I
+can only save you for--for--Charlotte."
+
+Was it vanity in myself? I don't know. It seemed to me that it was
+hard for her to say it. Frankly, I loved her. I knew it. I loved
+Charlotte. I loved them both. But I held to my purpose.
+
+"Are the professor and Watson living?"
+
+"They are."
+
+"Are they conscious?"
+
+She nodded. "Harry," she said, "I can tell you that. They are
+living and conscious. You have seen them. They have only one
+enemy--the Rhamda. But they must never come out of the Blind Spot.
+I am their friend and yours."
+
+A sudden courage came upon me. I remembered my word to Watson. I
+had loved the old professor. I would save them. If necessary I
+would follow to the end. Either myself or Fenton. One of us would
+solve it!
+
+"I shall keep the ring," I said. "I shall avenge them. Somehow,
+somewhere, I feel that I shall do it. Even if I must follow--"
+
+She straightened at that. Her eyes were frightened.
+
+"Oh," she said, "why do you say it? It must not be! You would
+perish! You shall not do it! I must save you. You must not go
+alone. Three--it may not be. If you go, I go with you. Perhaps--
+oh, Harry!"
+
+She dropped her head again; her body shook with her sobbing;
+plainly she was a girl. No real man is ever himself in the
+presence of a woman's tears. I was again on the point of
+surrender. Suddenly she looked up.
+
+"Harry," she spoke sadly, "I have just one thing to ask. You must
+see Charlotte. You must forget me; we can never--you love
+Charlotte. I have seen her; she's a beautiful girl. You haven't
+written. She is worried. Remember what you mean to her happiness.
+Will you go?"
+
+That I could promise.
+
+"Yes, I shall see Charlotte."
+
+She rose from her chair. I held her hand. Again, as in the
+restaurant, I lifted it to my lips. She flushed and drew it away.
+She bit her lip. Her beauty was a kind I could not understand.
+
+"You must see Charlotte," she said, "and you must do as she says."
+
+With that she was gone. There was a car waiting; the last I saw
+was its winking tail-light dimming into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+CHARLOTTE
+
+
+Left alone, I began thinking of Charlotte. I loved her; of that I
+was certain. I could not compare her with the Nervina. She was
+like myself, human. I had known her since boyhood. The other was
+out of the ether; my love for her was something different; she was
+of dreams and moonbeams; there was a film about her beauty,
+illusion; she was of spirit.
+
+I wrote a note to the detective and left it upon my desk. After
+that I packed a suitcase and hurried to the station. If I was
+going I would do it at once, I could not trust myself too far.
+This visit had been like a breath of air; for the moment I was
+away from the isolation. The loneliness and the weariness! How I
+dreaded it! I was only free from it for a few moments. On the
+train it came back upon me and in a manner that was startling.
+
+I had purchased my ticket. When the conductor came through he
+passed me. He gathered tickets all about me; but he did not notice
+me. At first I paid no attention; but when he had gone through the
+car several times I held up my ticket. He did not stop. It was not
+until I had touched him that he gave me a bit of attention.
+
+"Where have you been sitting?" he asked.
+
+I pointed to the seat. He frowned slightly.
+
+"There?" he asked. "Did you say you were sitting in that seat?
+Where did you get on?"
+
+"At Townsend."
+
+"Queer," he answered; he punched the ticket. "Queer. I passed that
+seat several times. It was empty!"
+
+Empty! It was almost a shock. Could it be that my isolation was
+becoming physical as well as mental? What was this gulf that was
+widening between myself and my fellows?
+
+It was the beginning of another phase. I have noticed it many
+times; on the street, in public places, everywhere. I thread in
+and out among men. Sometimes they see me, sometimes they don't. It
+is strange. I feel at times as though I might be vanishing out of
+the world!
+
+It was late when I reached my old home; but the lights were still
+burning. My favourite dog, Queen, was on the veranda. As I came up
+the steps she growled slightly, but on recognition went into a
+series of circles about the porch. My father opened the door. I
+stepped inside. He touched me on the shoulder, his jaw dropped.
+
+"Harry!" he exclaimed.
+
+Was it as bad as that? How much meaning may be placed in a single
+intonation! I was weary to the point of exhaustion. The ride upon
+the train had been too much.
+
+My mother came in. For some moments I was busy protesting my
+health. But it was useless; it wasn't until I had partaken of a
+few of the old nostrums that I could placate her.
+
+"Work, work, work, my boy," said my father, "nothing but work. It
+really won't do. You're a shadow. You must take a vacation. Go to
+the mountains; forget your practice for a short time."
+
+I didn't tell them. Why should I? I decided right then it was my
+own battle. It was enough for me without casting the worry upon
+others. Yet I could not see Charlotte without calling on my
+parents.
+
+As soon as possible I crossed the street to the Fentons'. Someone
+had seen me in town. Charlotte was waiting. She was the same
+beautiful girl I had known so long; the blue eyes, the blonde,
+wavy mass of hair, the laughing mouth and the gladness. But she
+was not glad now. It was almost a repetition of what had happened
+at home, only here a bit more personal. She clung to me almost in
+terror. I didn't realise I had gone down so much. I knew my
+weariness; but I hadn't thought my appearance so dejected. I
+remembered Watson. He had been wan, pale, forlorn. After what
+brief explanation I could give, I proposed a stroll in the
+moonlight.
+
+It was a full moon; a wonderful night; we walked down the avenue
+under the elm trees. Charlotte was beautiful, and worried; she
+clung to my arm with the eagerness of possession. I could not but
+compare her with Nervina. There was a contrast; Charlotte was
+fresh, tender, affectionate, the girl of my boyhood. I had known
+her all my life; there was no doubt of our love.
+
+Who was the other? She was something higher, out of mystery, out
+of life--almost--out of the moonbeams. I stopped and looked up.
+The great full orb was shining. I didn't know that I spoke.
+
+"Harry," asked Charlotte, "who is the Nervina?"
+
+Had I spoken?
+
+"What do you know about the Nervina?" I asked.
+
+"She has been to see me. She told me. She said you would be here
+tonight. I was waiting. She is very beautiful. I never saw anyone
+like her. She is wonderful!"
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"She! Oh, Harry. Tell me. I have waited. Something has happened.
+Tell me. You have told me nothing. You are not like the old
+Harry."
+
+"Tell me about the Nervina. What did she say? Charlotte, tell me
+everything. Am I so much different from the old Harry?"
+
+She clutched at my arm fearfully; she looked into my eyes.
+
+"Oh," she said, "how can you say it? You haven't laughed once. You
+are melancholy; you are pale, drawn, haggard. You keep muttering.
+You are not the old Harry. Is it this Nervina? At first I thought
+she loved you; but she does not. She wanted to know all about you,
+and about our love. She was so interested. What is this danger?"
+
+I didn't answer.
+
+"You must tell me. This ring? She said that you must give it to
+me. What is it?" she insisted.
+
+"Did she ask that? She told you to take the ring? My dear," I
+asked, "if it were the ring and it were so sinister would I be a
+man to give it to my loved one?"
+
+"It would not hurt me."
+
+But I would not. Something warned me. It was a ruse to get it out
+of my possession. The whole thing was haunting, weird, ghostly.
+Always I could hear Watson. I still had a small quota of courage
+and will-power. I clung steadfastly to my purpose.
+
+It was a sad three hours. Poor Charlotte! I shall never forget it.
+It is the hardest task on earth to deny one's loved one.
+
+She had grown into my heart and into its possession. She clung to
+me tenderly, tearfully. I could not tell her. Her feminine
+instinct sensed disaster. In spite of her tears I insisted. When I
+kissed her goodnight she did not speak. But she looked up at me
+through her tears. It was the hardest thing of all for me to bear.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE SHEPHERD
+
+
+When I returned to the city next morning I took my dog. It was a
+strange whim; but one which was to lead to a remarkable
+development. I have always been a lover of dogs. I was lonely.
+There is a bond between a dog and his master. It goes beyond
+definition; it roots down into nature. I was to learn much.
+
+She was an Australian shepherd. She was of a tawny black and bob-
+tailed from birth.
+
+What is the power that lies behind instinct? How far does it go? I
+had a notion that the dog would be outside the sinister clutch
+that was dragging me under.
+
+Happily Jerome was fond of dogs. He was reading. When I entered
+with Queen tugging at the chain he looked up. The dog recognised
+the heart of the man; when he stooped to pet her she moved her
+stub tail in an effusion of affectionate acceptance. Jerome had
+been reading Le Bon's theory on the evolution of force. His
+researches after the mystery had led him into the depths of
+speculation; he had become quite a scholar. After our first
+greeting I unhooked the chain and let Queen have the freedom of
+the house. I related what had happened. The detective closed the
+book and sat down. The dog waited a bit for further petting; but
+missing that she began sniffing about the room. There was nothing
+strange about it of course. I myself paid not the slightest
+attention. But the detective was watching. While I was telling my
+story he was following every movement of the shepherd. Suddenly he
+held up one finger. I turned.
+
+It was Queen. A low growl, guttural and suspicious. She was
+standing about a foot from the portieres that separated the
+library from the other room--where we had lost Watson, and where
+Jerome had had his experience with the old lady. Tense and rigid,
+one forepaw held up stealthily, her stub tail erect and the hair
+along her back bristled. Again the low growl. I caught Jerome's
+eyes. It was queer.
+
+"What is it, Queen?" I spoke.
+
+At the sound of my voice she wagged her tail and looked round,
+then stepped between the curtains. Just her head. She drew back;
+her lips drawn from her teeth, snarling. She was rigid, alert,
+vitalised. Somehow it made me cold. She was a brave dog; she
+feared nothing. The detective stepped forward and pulled the
+curtains apart. The room was empty. We looked into each other's
+faces. What is there to instinct? What is its range? We could see
+nothing.
+
+But not to the dog. Her eyes glowed. Hate, fear, terror, her whole
+body rigid.
+
+"I wonder," I said. I stepped into the room. But I hadn't counted
+on the dog. With a yelp she was upon me, had me by the calf of the
+leg and was drawing me back. She stepped in front of me; a low,
+guttural growl of warning. But there was nothing in that room; of
+that we were certain.
+
+"Beats me," said the detective. "How does she know? Wonder if she
+would stop me?" He stepped forward. It was merely a repetition.
+She caught him by the trouser-leg and drew him back. She crowded
+us away from the curtain. It was almost magnetic. We could see
+nothing, neither could we feel; was it possible that the dog could
+see beyond us? The detective spoke first:
+
+"Take her out of the room. Put her in the hall; tie her up."
+
+"What's the idea?"
+
+"Merely this; I am going to examine the room. No, I am not afraid.
+I'll be mighty glad if it does catch me. Anything so long as I get
+results."
+
+But it did us no good. We examined the room many times that night;
+both of us. In the end there was nothing, only the weirdness and
+uncertainty and the magnetic undercurrent which we could feel, but
+could not fathom. When we called in the dog she stepped to the
+portieres and commenced her vigil. She crouched slightly behind
+the curtains, alert, ready, waiting, at her post of honour. From
+that moment she never left the spot except under compulsion. We
+could hear her at all times of the night; the low growl, the
+snarl, the defiance.
+
+But there was a great deal more that we were to learn from the
+dog. It was Jerome who first called my attention. A small fact at
+the beginning; but of a strange sequence. This time it was the
+ring. Queen had the habit that is common to most dogs; she would
+lick my hand to show her affection. It was nothing in itself; but
+for one fact--she always chose the left hand. It was the detective
+who first noticed it. Always and every opportunity she would lick
+the jewel. We made a little test to try her. I would remove the
+ring from one hand to the other; then hold it behind me. She would
+follow.
+
+It was a strange fact; but of course not inexplicable. A scent or
+the attraction of taste might account for it. However, these
+little tests led to a rather remarkable discovery.
+
+One night we had called the dog from her vigil. As usual she came
+to the jewel; by chance I pressed the gem against her head. It was
+a mere trifle; yet it was of consequence. A few minutes before I
+had dropped a handkerchief on the opposite side of the room; I was
+just thinking about picking it up. It was only a small thing, yet
+it put us on the track of the gem's strangest potency. The dog
+walked to the handkerchief. She brought it back in her mouth. At
+first I took it for a pure coincidence. I repeated the experiment
+with a book. The same result. I looked up at Jerome.
+
+"What's the matter?" Then when I explained: "The dickens! Try it
+again."
+
+Over and over again we repeated it, using different articles,
+pieces of which I was certain she didn't know the name. There was
+a strange bond between the gem and the intelligence, some strange
+force emanating from its lustre. On myself it was depressing; on
+the dog it was life itself. At last Jerome had an inspiration.
+
+"Try the Rhamda," he said; "think of him. Perhaps--"
+
+It was most surprising. Certainly it was remarkable. It was too
+much like intelligence; a bit too uncanny. At the instant of the
+thought the dog leaped backward.
+
+Such a strange transformation; she was naturally gentle. In one
+instant she had gone mad. Mad? Not in the literal interpretation;
+but figuratively. She sprang back, snapping; her teeth bared, her
+hair bristled. Her nostrils drawn. With one bound she leaped
+between the curtains.
+
+Jerome jumped up. With an exclamation he drew the portieres. I was
+behind him. The dog was standing at the edge of the room,
+bristling.
+
+The room was empty. What did she see? What?
+
+One thing was certain. Though we were sure of nothing else we were
+certain of the Rhamda. We could trust the canine's instinct. Every
+previous experiment we had essayed had been crowned with success.
+We had here a fact but no explanation. If we could only put things
+together and extract the law.
+
+It was late when we retired. I could not sleep. The restlessness
+of the dog held back my slumber. She would growl sullenly, then
+stir about for a new position; she was never quite still. I could
+picture her there in the library, behind the curtains, crouched,
+half resting, half slumbering, always watching. I would awaken in
+the night and listen; a low guttural warning, a sullen whine--then
+stillness. It was the same with my companion. We could never quite
+understand it. Perhaps we were a bit afraid.
+
+But one can become accustomed to almost anything. It went on for
+many nights without anything happening, until one night.
+
+It was dark, exceedingly dark, with neither moon nor starlight;
+one of those nights of inky intenseness. I cannot say just exactly
+what woke me. The house was strangely silent and still; the air
+seemed stretched and laden. It was summer. Perhaps it was the
+heat. I only knew that I woke suddenly and blinked in the
+darkness.
+
+In the next room with the door open I could hear the heavy
+breathing of the detective. A heavy feeling lay against my heart.
+I had grown accustomed to dread and isolation; but this was
+different. Perhaps it was premonition. I do not know. And yet I
+was terribly sleepy; I remember that.
+
+I struck a match and looked at my watch on the bureau--twelve
+thirty-five. No sound--not even Queen--not even a rumble from the
+streets. I lay back and dropped into slumber. Just as I drifted
+off to sleep I had a blurring fancy of sound, guttural, whining,
+fearful--then suddenly drifting into incoherent rumbling
+phantasms--a dream. I awoke suddenly. Someone was speaking. It was
+Jerome.
+
+"Harry!"
+
+I was frightened. It was like something clutching out of the
+darkness. I sat up. I didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. The
+incoherence of my dream had been external. The library was just
+below me. I could hear the dog pacing to and fro, and her
+snarling. Snarling? It was just that. It was something to arouse
+terror.
+
+She had never growled like that--I was positive, I could hear her
+suddenly leap back from the curtains. She barked. Never before had
+she come to that. Then a sudden lunge into the other room--a
+vicious series of snapping barks, yelps--pandemonium--I could
+picture her leaping--at what? Then suddenly I leaped out of bed.
+The barks grew faint, faint, fainter--into the distance.
+
+In the darkness I couldn't find the switch. I bumped into Jerome.
+We were lost in our confusion. It was a moment before we could
+find either a match or a switch to turn on the lights. But at
+last--I shall not forget that moment; nor Jerome. He was rigid;
+one arm held aloft, his eyes bulged out. The whole house was full
+of sound--full-toned--vibrant--magnetic. It was the bell.
+
+I jumped for the stairway, but not so quick as Jerome. With three
+bounds we were in the library with the lights on. The sound was
+running down to silence. We tore down the curtains and rushed into
+the room. It was empty!
+
+There was not even the dog. Queen had gone! In a vain rush of
+grief I began calling and whistling. It was an overwhelming
+moment. The poor, brave shepherd. She had seen it and rushed into
+its face.
+
+It was the last night I was to have Jerome. We sat up until
+daylight. For the thousandth time we went over the house in
+detail, but there was nothing. Only the ring. At the suggestion of
+the detective I touched the match to the sapphire. It was the
+same. The colour diminishing, and the translucent corridors
+deepening into the distance; then the blur and the coming of
+shadows--the men, Watson and the professor--and my dog.
+
+Of the men, only the heads showed; but the dog was full figure;
+she was sitting, apparently on a pedestal, her tongue was lolling
+out of her mouth and her face of that gentle intelligence which
+only the Australian shepherd is heir to. That is all--no more--
+nothing. If we had hoped to discover anything through her medium
+we were disappointed. Instead of clearing up, the whole thing had
+grown deeper.
+
+I have said that it was the last night I was to have Jerome. I
+didn't know it then. Jerome went out early in the morning. I went
+to bed. I was not afraid in the daylight. I was certain now that
+the danger was localised. As long as I kept out of that apartment
+I had nothing to fear. Nevertheless, the thing was magnetic. A
+subtle weirdness pervaded the building. I did not sleep soundly. I
+was lonely; the isolation was crowding on me. In the afternoon I
+stepped out on the streets.
+
+I have spoken of my experience with the conductor. On this day I
+had the certainty of my isolation; it was startling. In the face
+of what I was and what I had seen it was almost terrifying. It was
+the first time I thought of sending for Hobart. I had thought I
+could hold out. The complete suddenness of the thing set me to
+thinking. I thought of Watson. It was the last phase, the
+feebleness, the wanness, the inertia! He had been a far stronger
+man than I in the beginning.
+
+I must cable Fenton. While I had still an ego in the presence of
+men, I must reach out for help. It was a strange thing and
+inexplicable. I was not invisible. Don't think that. I simply did
+not individualise. Men didn't notice me--till I spoke. As if I was
+imperceptibly losing the essence of self. I still had some hold on
+the world. While it remained I must get word to Hobart. I did not
+delay. Straight to the office I went and paid for the cable.
+
+CANNOT HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER. COME AT ONCE.--HARRY.
+
+I was a bit ashamed. I had hoped. I had counted upon myself. I had
+trusted in the full strength of my individuality. I had been
+healthy--strong--full blooded. On the fullness of vitality one
+would live forever. There is no tomorrow. It was not a year ago. I
+was eighty. It had been so with Watson. What was this subtle thing
+that ate into one's marrow? I had read of banshees, lemures and
+leprechauns; they were the ghosts and the fairies of ignorance but
+they were not like this. It was impersonal, hidden, inexorable. It
+was mystery. And I believed that it was Nature.
+
+I know it now. Even as I write I can sense the potency of the
+force about me. Some law, some principle, some force that science
+has not uncovered.
+
+What is that law that shall bridge the chaos between the mystic
+and the substantial? I am standing on the bridge; and I cannot see
+it. What is the great law that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb? Who
+is the Rhamda? Who is the Nervina?
+
+Jerome has not returned. I cannot understand it. It has been a
+week. I am living on brandy--not much of anything else--I am
+waiting for Fenton. I have taken all my elaborations and notes and
+put them together. Perhaps I--
+
+(This is the last of the strange document left by Harry Wendel.
+The following memorandum is written by Charlotte Fenton.)
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+CHARLOTTE'S STORY
+
+
+I do not know. It is hard to write after what has happened.
+
+Hobart says that it is why I am to write it. It is to be a plain
+narrative. Besides, he is very busy and cannot do it himself.
+There must be some record. I shall do my best and hold out of my
+writing as much as I can of my emotion. I shall start with the
+Nervina.
+
+It was the first I knew; the first warning. Looking back I cannot
+but wonder. No person I think who has ever seen the Nervina can do
+much else; she is so beautiful! Beautiful? Why do I say it? I
+should be jealous and I should hate her. Yet I do not. Why is it?
+
+It was about eight months after Hobart had left for South America.
+I remember those eight months as the longest in my life; because
+of Harry. I am a girl and I like attention; all girls do.
+Ordinarily he would come over every fortnight at least. After
+Hobart had gone he came once only, and of course I resented the
+inattention.
+
+It seemed to me that no business could be of enough importance if
+he really loved me. Even his letters were few and far between.
+What he wrote were slow and weary and of an undertone that I could
+not fathom. I--loved Harry. I could not understand it. I had a
+thousand fearful thoughts and jealousies; but they were feminine
+and in no way approximated even the beginning of the truth.
+Inattention was not like Harry. It was not until the coming of the
+Nervina that I was afraid.
+
+Afraid? I will not say that--exactly. It was rather a suspicion, a
+queer undercurrent of wonder and doubt. The beauty of the girl,
+her interest in Harry and myself, her concern over this ring, put
+me a bit on guard. I wondered what this ring had to do with Harry
+Wendel.
+
+She did not tell me in exact words or in literal explanation; but
+she managed to convey all too well a lurking impression of its
+sinister potency. It was something baleful, something the very
+essence of which would break down the life of one who wore it.
+Harry had come into its possession by accident and she would save
+him. She had failed through direct appeal. Now she had come to me.
+She did not say a word of the Blind Spot.
+
+And the next day came Harry. It was really a shock, though I had
+been warned by the girl. He was not Harry at all, but another. His
+eyes were dim and they had lost their lustre; when they did show
+light at all, it was a kind that was a bit fearful. He was wan,
+worn, and shrunk to a shadow, as if he had gone through a long
+illness.
+
+He said he had not been sick. He maintained that he was quite well
+physically. And on his finger was the ring of which the girl had
+spoken. Its value must have been incalculable. Wherever he moved
+his hand its blue flame cut a path through the darkness. But he
+said nothing about it. I waited and wondered and was afraid. It
+was not until our walk under the elm trees that it was mentioned.
+
+It was a full moon; a wonderful, mellow moon of summer. He stopped
+suddenly and gazed up at the orb above us. It seemed to me that
+his mind was wandering, he held me closely--tenderly. He was not
+at all like Harry. There was a missing of self, of individuality;
+he spoke in abstractions.
+
+"The maiden of the moonbeams?" he said. "What can it mean?"
+
+And then I asked him. He has already told of our conversation. It
+was the ring of which the Nervina had told me. It had to do with
+the Blind Spot--the great secret that had taken Dr. Holcomb. He
+would not give it to me. I worked hard, for even then I was not
+afraid of it. Something told me--I must do it to save him. It was
+weird, and something I could not understand--but I must do it for
+Harry.
+
+I failed. Though he was broken in every visible way there was one
+thing as strong as ever--his honour. He was not afraid; he had
+been the same in his boyhood. When we parted that night he kissed
+me. I shall never forget how long he looked into my eyes, nor his
+sadness. That is all. The next morning he left for San Francisco.
+
+And then came the end. A message; abrupt and sudden. It was some
+time after and put a period to my increasing stress and worry. It
+read:
+
+CITY OF PERU DOCKS TONIGHT AT EIGHT. MEET ME AT THE PIER. HOBART
+COMING,--HARRY.
+
+It was a short message and a bit twisted. In ordinary
+circumstances he would have motored down and brought me back to
+greet Hobart. It was a bit strange that I should meet him at the
+pier. However, I had barely time to get to the city if I hurried.
+
+I shall never forget that night.
+
+It was dark when I reached San Francisco. I was a full twenty
+minutes early at the pier. A few people were waiting. I looked
+about for Harry. He was to meet me and I was certain that I would
+find him. But he was not there. Of course there was still time. He
+was sure to be on hand to greet Hobart.
+
+Nevertheless, I had a vague mistrust. Since that strange visit I
+had not been sure. Harry wasn't well. There was something to this
+mystery that he had not told me. Why had he asked me to meet him
+at the pier? Why didn't he come? When the boat docked and he was
+still missing I was doubly worried.
+
+Hobart came down the gangplank. He was great, strong, healthy, and
+it seemed to me in a terrible hurry. He scanned the faces
+hurriedly and ran over to me.
+
+"Where's Harry?" He kissed me and in the same breath repeated,
+"Where's Harry?"
+
+"Oh, Hobart!" I exclaimed. "What's the matter with Harry? Tell me.
+It's something terrible!"
+
+He was afraid. Plainly I could see that! There were lines of
+anxiety about his eyes. He clutched me by the arm and drew me
+away.
+
+"He was to meet me here," I said. "He didn't come. He was to meet
+me here! Oh, Hobart, I saw him some time ago. He was--it was not
+Harry at all! Do you know anything about it?"
+
+For a minute he stood still, looking at me. I had never seen
+Hobart frightened; but at that moment there was that in his eyes
+which I could not understand. He caught me by the arm and started
+out almost at a run. There were many people and we dodged in and
+out among them. Hobart carried a suitcase. He hailed a taxi.
+
+I don't know how I got into the car. It was a blur. I was
+frightened. Some terrible thing had occurred, and Hobart knew it.
+I remember a few words spoken to the driver. "Speed, speed, no
+limit; never mind the law--and Chatterton Place!" After that the
+convulsive jerking over the cobbled streets, a climbing over hills
+and twisted corners. And Hobart at my side. "Faster--faster," he
+was saying; "faster! My lord, was there ever a car so slow! Harry!
+Harry!" I could hear him breathing a prayer. Another hill; the car
+turned and came suddenly to a stop! Hobart leaped out.
+
+A sombre two-storey house; a light burning in one of the windows,
+a dim light, almost subdued and uncanny. I had never seen anything
+so lonely as that light; it was grey, uncertain, scarcely a
+flicker. Perhaps it was my nerves. I had scarcely strength to
+climb the steps. Hobart grasped the knob and thrust open the door;
+I can never forget it.
+
+It is hard to write. The whole thing! The room; the walls lined
+with books; the dim, pale light, the faded green carpet, and the
+man. Pale, worn, almost a shadow of his former self. Was it Harry
+Wendel? He had aged forty years. He was stooped, withered,
+exhausted. A bottle of brandy on the desk before him. In his weak,
+thin hand an empty wineglass. The gem upon his finger glowed with
+a flame that was almost wicked; it was blue, burning, giving out
+sparkles of light--like a colour out of hell. The path of its
+light was unholy--it was too much alive.
+
+We both sprang forward. Hobart seized him by the shoulders.
+
+"Harry, old boy; Harry! Don't you know us? It's Hobart and
+Charlotte."
+
+It was terrible. He didn't seem to know. He looked right at us.
+But he spoke in abstractions.
+
+"Two," he said. And he listened. "Two! Don't you hear it?" He
+caught Hobart by the arm. "Now, listen. Two! No, it's three. Did I
+say three? Can't you hear? It's the old lady. She speaks out of
+the shadows. There! There! Now, listen. She has been counting to
+me. Always she says three! Soon it will be four."
+
+What did he mean? What was it about? Who was the old lady? I
+looked round. I saw no one. Hobart stooped over. Harry began
+slowly to recognise us. It was as if his mind had wandered and was
+coming back from a far place. He spoke slowly; his words were
+incoherent and rambling.
+
+"Hobart," he said; "you know her. She is the maiden out of the
+moonbeams. The Rhamda, he is our enemy. Hobart, Charlotte. I know
+so much. I cannot tell you. You are two hours late. It's a strange
+thing. I have found it and I think I know. It came suddenly. The
+discovery of the great professor. Why didn't you come two hours
+earlier? We might have conquered."
+
+He dropped his head upon his arms; then as suddenly he looked up.
+He drew the ring from his finger.
+
+"Give it to Charlotte," he said. "It won't hurt her. Don't touch
+it yourself. Had I only known. Watson didn't know--"
+
+He straightened; he was tense, rigid, listening.
+
+"Do you hear anything? Listen! Can you hear? It's the old lady.
+There--"
+
+But there was not a sound; only the rumble of the streets, the
+ticking of the clock, and our heart-beats. Again he went through
+the counting.
+
+"Hobart!"
+
+"Yes, Harry."
+
+"And Charlotte! The ring--ah, yet it was there, Keep it. Give it
+to no one. Two hours ago we might have conquered. But I had to
+keep the ring. It was too much, too powerful; a man may not wear
+it. Charlotte"--he took my hand and ran the ring upon my finger.
+"Poor Charlotte. Here is the ring. The most wonderful--"
+
+Again he dropped over. He was weak--there was something going from
+him minute by minute.
+
+"Water," he asked. "Hobart, some water."
+
+It was too pitiful. Harry, our Harry--come to a strait like this!
+Hobart rushed to another room with the tumbler. I could hear him
+fumbling. I stooped over Harry. But he held up his hand.
+
+"No, Charlotte, no. You must not. If--"
+
+He stopped. Again the strange attention, as if he was listening to
+something far off in the distance; the pupils of his hollow, worn,
+lustreless eyes were pin-points. He stood on his feet rigid,
+quivering; then he held up his hand. "Listen!"
+
+But there was nothing. It was just as before; merely the murmuring
+of the city night, and the clock ticking.
+
+"It's the dog! D'you hear her? And the old lady. Now listen, 'Two!
+Now there are two! Three! Three! Now there are three!' There--
+now." He turned to me. "Can you hear it, Charlotte? No? How
+strange. Perhaps--" He pointed to the corner of the room. "That
+paper. Will you--"
+
+I shall always go over that moment. I have thought over it many
+times and have wondered at the sequence. Had I not stepped across
+the library, what would have happened?
+
+What was it.
+
+I had stooped to pick up the piece of paper. There came a queer,
+cracking, snapping sound, almost audible, I have a strange
+recollection of Harry standing up by the side of the desk--a
+flitting vision. An intuition of some terrible force. It was out
+of nothing--nowhere--approaching. I turned about. And I saw it--
+the dot of blue.
+
+Blue! That is what it was at first. Blue and burning, like the
+flame of a million jewels centred into a needlepoint. On the
+ceiling directly above Harry's head. It was scintillating,
+coruscating, opalescent; but it was blue most of all. It was the
+colour of life and of death; it was burning, throbbing,
+concentrated. I tried to scream. But I was frozen with horror. The
+dot changed colour and went to a dead-blue. It seemed to grow
+larger and to open. Then it turned to white and dropped like a
+string of incandescence, touching Harry on the head.
+
+What was it? It was all so sudden. A door flung open and a swish
+of rushing silk. A woman! A beautiful girl! The Nervina! It was
+she!
+
+Never have I seen anyone like her. She was so beautiful. In her
+face all the compassion a woman is heir to. For scarcely a second
+she stopped.
+
+"Charlotte," she called. "Charlotte--oh, why didn't you save him!
+He loves you!" Then she turned to Harry. "It shall not be. He
+shall not go alone. I shall save him, even beyond--"
+
+With that she rushed upon Harry. It was all done in an instant.
+Her arms were outstretched to the dimming form of Harry and the
+incandescence. The splendid impassioned girl. Their forms
+intermingled. A blur of her beautiful body and Harry's wan, weary
+face. A flash of light, a thread of incandescence, a quiver--and
+they were gone.
+
+The next I knew was the strong arms of my brother Hobart. He gave
+me the water he had fetched for Harry. He was terribly upset, but
+very calm. He held the glass up to my lips. He was speaking.
+
+"Don't worry. Don't worry. I know now. I think I know. I was just
+in time to see them go. I heard the bell. Harry is safe. It is the
+Nervina. I shall get Harry. We'll solve the Blind Spot."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+HOBART FENTON TAKES UP THE TALE
+
+
+Right here at the outset, I had better make a clean breast of
+something which the reader will very soon suspect, anyhow: I am a
+plain, unpoetic, blunt-speaking man, trained as a civil engineer,
+and in most respects totally dissimilar from the man who wrote the
+first account of the Blind Spot.
+
+Harry had already touched upon this. He came of an artistic
+family. I think he must have taken up law in the hope that the old
+saying would prove true: "The only certain thing about law is its
+uncertainty." For he dearly loved the mysterious, the unknowable;
+he liked uncertainty for its excitement: and it is a mighty good
+thing that he was honest, for he would have made a highly
+dangerous crook.
+
+Observe that I use the past tense in referring to my old friend. I
+do this in the interests of strict, scientific accuracy, to
+satisfy those who would contend that, having utterly vanished from
+sight and sound of man, Harry Wendel is no more.
+
+But in my own heart is the firm conviction that he is still very
+much alive.
+
+Within an hour of his astounding disappearance, my sister,
+Charlotte, and I made our way to an hotel; and despite the
+terrible nature of what had happened, we managed to get a few
+hours rest. The following morning Charlotte declared herself quite
+strong enough to discuss the situation. We lost no time.
+
+It will be remembered that I had spent nearly the whole of the
+preceding year in South America, putting through an irrigation
+scheme. Thus, I knew little of what had occurred in that interval.
+On the other hand, Harry and I had never seen fit to take
+Charlotte into our confidence as, I now see, we should have done.
+
+So we fairly pounced upon the manuscript which Harry had left
+behind. And by the time we had finished reading it, I for one, had
+reached one solid conclusion.
+
+"I'm convinced," I said, "that the stranger--Rhamda Avec--is an
+out-and-out villain. Despite his agreeable ways, I think he was
+solely and deliberately to blame for Professor Holcomb's
+disappearance. Consequently, this Rhamda is, in himself, a very
+valuable clue as to Harry's present predicament."
+
+Referring to Harry's notes, I pointed out the fact that, although
+Avec had often been seen on the streets of San Francisco, yet the
+police had never been able to lay hands on him. This seemed to
+indicate that the man might possess the power of actually making
+himself visible or invisible, at will.
+
+"Only"--I was careful to add--"understand, I don't rank him as a
+magician, or sorcerer; nothing like that. I'd rather think that
+he's merely in possession of a scientific secret, no more
+wonderful in itself than, say, wireless. He's merely got hold of
+it in advance of the others; that's all."
+
+"Then you think that the woman, too, is human?"
+
+"The Nervina?" I hesitated. "Perhaps you know more of this part of
+the thing than I do."
+
+"I only know"--slowly--"that she came and told me that Harry was
+soon to call. And somehow, I never felt jealous of her, Hobart."
+Then she added: "At the same time, I can understand that Harry
+might--might have fallen in love with her. She--she was very
+beautiful."
+
+Charlotte is a brave girl. She kept her voice as steady as my own.
+
+We next discussed the disappearance of Chick Watson. These details
+are already familiar to the reader of Harry's story; likewise what
+happened to Queen, his Australian shepherd. Like the other
+vanishings, it was followed by a single stroke on that prodigious,
+invisible bell--what Harry calls "The Bell of the Blind Spot." And
+he has already mentioned my opinion, that this phenomenon
+signifies the closing of the portal of the unknown--the end of the
+special conditions which produce the bluish spot on the ceiling,
+the incandescent streak of light, and the vanishing of whoever
+falls into the affected region. The mere fact that no trace of the
+bell ever was found has not shaken my opinion.
+
+And thus we reached the final disappearance, that which took away
+Harry. Charlotte contrived to keep her voice as resolute as
+before, as she said:
+
+"He and the Nervina vanished together. I turned round just as she
+rushed in, crying out, 'I can't let you go alone! I'll save you,
+even beyond.' That's all she said, before--it happened."
+
+"You saw nothing of the Rhamda then?"
+
+"No."
+
+And we had neither seen nor heard of him since. Until we got in
+touch with him, one important clue as to Harry's fate was out of
+our reach. There remained to us just one thread of hope--the ring,
+which Charlotte was now wearing on her finger.
+
+I lit a match and held it to the face of the gem. As happened many
+times before, the stone exhibited its most astounding quality. As
+soon as faintly heated, the surface at first clouded, then cleared
+in a curious fashion, revealing a startling distinct, miniature
+likeness of the four who had vanished into the Blind Spot.
+
+I make no attempt to explain this. Somehow or other, that stone
+possesses a telescopic quality which brings to a focus, right in
+front of the beholder's eyes, a tiny "close-up" of our vanished
+friends. Also, the gem magnifies what it reveals, so that there is
+not the slightest doubt that Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson, Queen and
+Harry Wendel are actually reproduced--I shall not say, contained--
+in that gem. Neither shall I say that they are reflected; they are
+simply reproduced there.
+
+Also, it should be understood that their images are living. Only
+the heads and shoulders of the men are to be seen; but there is
+animation of the features, such as cannot be mistaken. Granted
+that these four vanished in the Blind Spot--whatever that is--and
+granted that this ring is some inexplicable window or vestibule
+between that locality and this commonplace world of ours, then,
+manifestly, it would seem that all four are still alive.
+
+"I am sure of it!" declared Charlotte, managing to smile,
+wistfully, at the living reproduction of her sweetheart. "And I
+think Harry did perfectly right, in handing it to me to keep."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Well, if for no other reason than because it behaves so
+differently with me, than it did with him.
+
+"Hobart, I am inclined to think that this fact is very
+significant. If Chick had only known of it, he wouldn't have
+insisted that Harry should wear it; and then--"
+
+"Can't be helped," I interrupted quickly. "Chick didn't know; he
+was only certain that someone--SOMEONE--must wear the ring; that
+it mustn't pass out of the possession of humans. Moreover, much as
+Rhamda Avec may desire it--and the Nervina, too--neither can
+secure it through the use of force. Nobody knows why."
+
+Charlotte shivered. "I'm afraid there's something spooky about it,
+after all."
+
+"Nothing of the sort," with a conviction that has never left me.
+"This ring is a perfectly sound fact, as indisputable as the
+submarine. There's nothing supernatural about it; for that matter,
+I personally doubt if there's ANYTHING supernatural. Every
+phenomenon which seems, at first, so wonderful, becomes
+commonplace enough as soon as explained. Isn't it true that you
+yourself are already getting used to that ring?"
+
+"Ye--es," reluctantly. "That is, partly. If only it were someone
+other than Harry!"
+
+"Of course," I hurried to say, "I only wanted to make it clear
+that we haven't any witchcraft to deal with. This whole mystery
+will become plain as day, and that damned soon!"
+
+"You've got a theory?"--hopefully.
+
+"Several; that's the trouble!" I had to admit. "I don't know which
+is best to follow out.--It may be a spiritualistic thing after
+all. Or it may fall under the head of 'abnormal psychology'.
+Nothing but hallucinations, in other words."
+
+"Oh, that won't do!"--evidently distressed. "I know what I saw!
+I'd doubt my reason if I thought I'd only fancied it!"
+
+"So would I. Well, laying aside the spiritualistic theory, there
+remains the possibility of some hitherto undiscovered scientific
+secret. And if the Rhamda is in possession of it, then the matter
+simmers down to a plain case of villainy."
+
+"But how does he do it?"
+
+"That's the whole question. However, I'm sure of this"--I was
+fingering the ring as I spoke. The reproduction of our friends had
+faded, now, leaving that dully glowing pale blue light once more.
+"This ring is absolutely real; it's no hallucination. It performs
+as well in broad daylight as in the night; no special conditions
+needed. It's neither a fraud nor an illusion.
+
+"In short, this ring is merely a phenomenon which science has not
+YET explained! That it can and will be explained is strictly up to
+us! Once we understand its peculiar properties, we can mighty soon
+rescue Harry!"
+
+And it was just then that a most extraordinary thing occurred. It
+happened so very unexpectedly, so utterly without warning, that it
+makes me shaky to this day whenever I recall it.
+
+From the gem on Charlotte's finger--or rather, from the air
+surrounding the ring--came an unmistakable sound. We saw nothing
+whatever; we only heard. And it was clear, as loud and as
+startling as though it had occurred right in the room where we
+were discussing the situation.
+
+It was the sharp, joyous bark of a dog.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+THE HOUSE OF MIRACLES
+
+
+Looking back over what has just been written, I am sensible of a
+profound gratitude. I am grateful, both because I have been given
+the privilege of relating these events, and because I shall not
+have to leave this wilderness of facts for someone else to
+explain.
+
+Really, if I did not know that I shall have the pleasure of
+piecing together these phenomena and of setting my finger upon the
+comparatively simple explanation; if I had to go away and leave
+this account unfinished, a mere collection of curiosity-provoking
+mysteries, I should not speak at all. I should leave the whole
+affair for another to finish, as it ought to be finished.
+
+All of which, it will soon appear, I am setting forth largely in
+order to brace and strengthen myself against what I must now
+relate.
+
+Before resuming, however, I should mention one detail which Harry
+was too modest to mention. He was--or is--unusually good-looking.
+I don't mean to claim that he possessed any Greek-god beauty; such
+wouldn't gibe with a height of five foot seven. No; his good looks
+were due to the simple outward expression, through his features,
+of a certain noble inward quality which would have made the
+homeliest face attractive. Selfishness will spoil the handsomest
+features; unselfishness will glorify.
+
+Moreover, simply because he had given his word to Chick Watson
+that he would wear the ring, Harry took upon himself the most
+dangerous task that any man could assume, and he had lost. But had
+he known in advance exactly what was going to happen to him, he
+would have stuck to his word, anyhow. And since there was a
+sporting risk attached to it, since the thing was not perfectly
+sure to end tragically, he probably enjoyed the greater part of
+his experience.
+
+But I'm not like that. Frankly, I'm an opportunist; essentially, a
+practical sort of fellow. I have a great admiration for idealists,
+but a much greater admiration for results. For instance, I have
+seldom given my word, even though the matter is unimportant; for I
+will cheerfully break my word if, later on, it should develop that
+the keeping of my word would do more harm than good.
+
+I realise perfectly well that it is dangerous ground to tread
+upon; yet I must refer the reader to what I have accomplished in
+this world, as proof that my philosophy is not as bad as it looks.
+
+I beg nobody's pardon for talking about myself so much at the
+outset. This account will be utterly incomprehensible if I am not
+understood. My method of solving the Blind Spot mystery is, when
+analysed, merely the expression of my personality. My sole idea
+has been to get RESULTS.
+
+As Harry has put it, a proposition must be reduced to concrete
+form before I will have anything to do with it. If the Blind Spot
+had been a totally occult affair, demanding that the investigation
+be conducted under cover of darkness, surrounded by black velvet,
+crystal spheres and incense; demanding the aid of a clairvoyant or
+other "medium," I should never have gone near it. But as soon as
+the mystery began to manifest itself in terms that I could
+understand, appreciate and measure, then I took interest.
+
+That is why old Professor Holcomb appealed to me; he had proposed
+that we prove the occult by physical means. "Reduce it to the
+scope of our five senses," he had said, in effect. From that
+moment on I was his disciple.
+
+I have told of hearing that sharp, welcoming bark, emitted either
+from the gem or from the air surrounding it. This event took place
+on the front porch of the house at 288 Chatterton Place, as
+Charlotte and I sat there talking it over. We had taken a suite at
+the hotel, but had come to the house of the Blind Spot in order to
+decide upon a course of action. And, in a way, that mysterious
+barking decided it for us.
+
+We returned to the hotel, and gave notice that we would leave the
+next day. Next, we began to make preparations for moving into the
+Chatterton Place dwelling.
+
+That afternoon, while in the midst of giving orders for
+furnishings and the like, there at the hotel, I was called to the
+telephone. It was from a point outside the building.
+
+"Mr. Fenton?"--in a man's voice. And when I had assured him; "You
+have no reason to recognise my voice. I am--Rhamda Avec."
+
+"The Rhamda! What do you want?"
+
+"To speak with your sister, Mr. Fenton." Odd how very agreeable
+the man's tones! "Will you kindly call her to the telephone?"
+
+I saw no objection. However, when Charlotte came to my side I
+whispered for her to keep the man waiting while I darted out into
+the corridor and slipped downstairs, where the girl at the
+switchboard put an instrument into the circuit for me. Money
+talks. However--
+
+"My dear child," the voice of Avec was saying, "you do me an
+injustice. I have nothing but your welfare at heart. I assure you
+that if anything should happen to you and your brother while at
+Chatterton Place, it will be through no fault of mine.
+
+"At the same time I can positively assure you that, if you stay
+away from there, no harm will come to either of you; absolutely
+none! I can guarantee that. Don't ask me why; but, if you value
+your safety, stay where you are, or go elsewhere, anywhere other
+than to the house in Chatterton Place."
+
+"I can hardly agree with you, Mr. Avec." Plainly Charlotte was
+deeply impressed with the man's sincerity and earnestness. "My
+brother's judgment is so much better than mine, that I--" and she
+paused regretfully.
+
+"I only wish," with his remarkable gracefulness, "that your
+intuition were as strong as your loyalty to your brother. If it
+were, you would know that I speak the truth when I say that I have
+only your welfare at heart."
+
+"I--I am sorry, Mr. Avec."
+
+"Fortunately, there is one alternative," even more agreeable than
+before. "If you prefer not to take my advice, but cling to your
+brother's decision, you can still avoid the consequences of his
+determination to live in that house. As I say, I cannot prevent
+harm from befalling you, under present conditions; but these
+conditions can be completely altered if you will make a single
+concession, Miss Fenton."
+
+"What is it?" eagerly.
+
+"That you give me the ring!"
+
+He paused for a very tense second. I wished I could see his
+peculiar, young-old face--the face with the inscrutable eyes; the
+face that urged, rather than inspired, both curiosity and
+confidence.
+
+Then he added:
+
+"I know why you wear it; I realise that the trinket carries some
+very tender associations. And I would never ask such a concession
+did I not know, were your beloved here at this moment, he would
+endorse every word that I say, and--"
+
+"Harry!" cried Charlotte, her voice shaking. "He would tell me to
+give it to you?"
+
+"I am sure of it! It is as though he, through me, were urging you
+to do this!"
+
+For some moments there was silence. Charlotte must have been
+tremendously impressed. It certainly was amazing the degree of
+confidence that Avec's voice induced. I wouldn't have been greatly
+surprised had my sister--
+
+"Mr. Avec," came Charlotte's voice, hesitatingly, almost
+sorrowfully. "I--I would like to believe you; but--but Harry
+himself gave me the ring, and I feel--oh, I'm sure that my brother
+would never agree to it!"
+
+"I understand." Somehow the fellow managed to conceal any
+disappointment he may have felt. He contrived to show only a deep
+sympathy for Charlotte as he finished: "If I find it possible to
+protect you, I shall, Miss Fenton."
+
+After it was all over, and I returned to the rooms, Charlotte and
+I concluded that it might have been better had we made some sort
+of compromise. If we had made a partial concession, he might have
+told us something of the mystery. We ought to have bargained. We
+decided that if he made any attempt to carry out what I felt sure
+were merely a thinly veiled threat to punish us for keeping the
+gem, we must not only be ready for whatever he might do, but try
+to trap and keep him as well.
+
+That same day found us back at Chatterton Place. Inside, there was
+altogether too much evidence that the place had been bachelors'
+quarters.
+
+The first step was to clean up. We hired lots of help, and made a
+quick thorough job of both floors. The basement we left untouched.
+And the next day we put a force of painters and decorators to
+work; whereby hangs the tale.
+
+"Mr. Fenton," called the head painter, as he varnished the "trim"
+in the parlour, "I wish you'd come and see what to make of this."
+
+I stepped into the front room. He was pointing to the long piece
+of finish which spanned the doorway leading into the dining-room.
+And he indicated a spot almost in the exact middle, a spot
+covering a space about five inches broad and as high as the width
+of the wood. In outline it was roughly octagonal.
+
+"I've been trying my best," stated Johnson, "to varnish that spot
+for the past five minutes. But I'll be darned if I can do it!"
+
+And he showed what he meant. Every other part of the door
+glistened with freshly applied varnish; but the octagonal region
+remained dull, as though no liquid had ever touched it. Johnson
+dipped his brush into the can, and applied a liberal smear of the
+fluid to the place. Instantly the stuff disappeared.
+
+"Blamed porous piece of wood," eyeing me queerly. "Or--do you
+think it's merely porous, Mr. Fenton?"
+
+For answer I took a brush and repeatedly daubed the place. It was
+like dropping ink on a blotter. The wood sucked up the varnish as
+a desert might suck up water.
+
+"There's about a quart of varnish in the wood already," observed
+Johnson, as I stared and pondered. "Suppose we take it down and
+weigh it?"
+
+Inside of a minute we had that piece of trim down from its place.
+First, I carefully examined the timber framework behind, expecting
+to see traces of the varnish where, presumably, it had seeped
+through. There was no sign. Then I inspected the reverse side of
+the finish, just behind the peculiar spot. I thought I might see a
+region of wide open pores in the grain of the pine. But the back
+looked exactly the same as the front, with no difference in the
+grain at any place.
+
+Placing the finish right side up, I proceeded to daub the spot
+some more. There was no change in the results. At last I took the
+can, and without stopping, poured a quart and a half of the fluid
+into that paradoxical little area.
+
+"Well I'll be darned!"--very loudly from Johnson. But when I
+looked up I saw his face was white, and his lips shaking.
+
+His nerves were all a-jangle. To give his mind a rest, I sent him
+for a hatchet. When he came back his face had regained its colour.
+I directed him to hold the pine upright, while I, with a single
+stroke, sank the tool into the end of the wood.
+
+It split part way. A jerk, and the wood fell in two halves.
+
+"Well?" from Johnson, blankly.
+
+"Perfectly normal wood, apparently." I had to admit that it was
+impossible to distinguish the material which constituted the
+peculiar spot from that which surrounded it.
+
+I sent Johnson after more varnish. Also, I secured several other
+fluids, including water, milk, ink, and machine oil. And when the
+painter returned we proceeded with a very thorough test indeed.
+
+Presently it became clear that we were dealing with a phenomenon
+of the Blind Spot. All told, we poured about nine pints of liquid
+into an area of about twenty square inches; all on the outer
+surface, for the split side would absorb nothing. And to all
+appearances we might have continued to pour indefinitely.
+
+Ten minutes later I went down into the basement to dispose of some
+rubbish. (Charlotte didn't know of this defection in our
+housekeeping.) It was bright sunlight outside. Thanks to the
+basement windows, I needed no artificial luminant. And when my
+gaze rested upon the ground directly under the parlour, I saw
+something there that I most certainly had never noticed before.
+
+The fact is, the basement at 288 Chatterton Place never did
+possess anything worthy of special notice. Except for the
+partition which Harry Wendel and Jerome, the detective, were the
+first in years to penetrate--except for that secret doorway, there
+was nothing down there to attract attention. To be sure, there was
+a quantity of up-turned earth, the result of Jerome's vigorous
+efforts to see whether or not there was any connection between the
+Blind Spot phenomena which he had witnessed and the cellar. He had
+secured nothing but an appetite for all his digging.
+
+However, it was still too dark for me to identify what I saw at
+once. I stood for a few moments, accustoming my eyes to the light.
+Except that the thing gleamed oddly like a piece of glass, and
+that it possessed a nearly circular outline about two feet across,
+I couldn't tell much about it.
+
+Then I stooped and examined it closely. At once I became conscious
+of a smell which, somehow, I had hitherto not noticed. Small
+wonder; it was as indescribable a smell as one could imagine. It
+seemed to be a combination of several that are not generally
+combined.
+
+Next instant it flashed upon me that the predominating odour was a
+familiar one. I had been smelling it, in fact, all the morning.
+
+But this did not prevent me from feeling very queer, indeed, as I
+realised what lay before me. A curious chill passed around my
+shoulders, and I scarcely breathed.
+
+At my feet lay a pool, composed of all the various liquids that
+had been poured, upstairs, into that baffling spot in the wood.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+OUT OF THIN AIR
+
+
+Except for the incident just related, when several pints of very
+real fluids were somehow "materialised" at a spot ten feet below
+where they had vanished, nothing worth recording occurred during
+the first seven days of our stay at Chatterton Place.
+
+Seemingly nothing was to come of the Rhamda's warning.
+
+On the other hand we succeeded, during that week, in working a
+complete transformation of the old house. It became one of the
+brightest spots in San Francisco. It cost a good deal of money,
+all told, but I could well afford it. I possessed the hundred
+thousand with which, I had promised myself and Harry, I should
+solve the Blind Spot. That was what the money was for.
+
+On the seventh day after the night of Harry's going, our household
+was increased to three members. For it was then that Jerome
+returned from Nevada, whence he had gone two weeks before on a
+case.
+
+"Not at all surprised," he commented, when I told him of Harry's
+disappearance. "Sorry I wasn't here. That crook, Rhamda Avec, in
+at the end?"
+
+He gnawed stolidly at his cigar as I told him the story. Then,
+after briefly approving what I had done to brighten the house, he
+announced:
+
+"Tell you what. I've got a little money out of that Nevada case;
+I'm going to take another vacation and see this thing through."
+
+We shook hands on this, and he moved right into his old room. I
+felt, in fact, mighty glad to have Jerome with us. Although he
+lacked a regular academic training, he was fifteen years my
+senior, and because of contact with a wide variety of people in
+his work, both well-informed and reserved in his judgment. He
+could not be stampeded; he had courage; and, above everything
+else, he had the burning curiosity of which Harry has written.
+
+I was upstairs when he unpacked. And I noted among his belongings
+a large, rather heavy automatic pistol. He nodded when I asked if
+he was willing to use it in this case.
+
+"Although"--unbuttoning his waistcoat--"I don't pin as much faith
+to pistols as I used to.
+
+"The Rhamda is, I'm convinced, the very cleverest proposition that
+ever lived. He has means to handle practically anything in the way
+of resistance." Jerome knew how the fellow had worsted Harry and
+me. "I shouldn't wonder if he can read the mind to some extent; he
+might be able to foresee that I was going to draw a gun, and beat
+me to it with some new weapon of his own."
+
+Having unbuttoned his waistcoat, Jerome then displayed a curious
+contrivance mounted upon his breast. It consisted of a broad metal
+plate, strapped across his shirt, and affixed to this plate was a
+flat-springed arrangement for firing, simultaneously, the contents
+of a revolver cylinder. To show how it worked, Jerome removed the
+five cartridges and then faced me.
+
+"Tell me to throw up my hands," directed he. I did so; his palms
+flew into the air; and with a steely snap the mechanism was
+released.
+
+Had there been cartridges in it, I should have been riddled, for I
+stood right in front. And I shuddered as I noted the small straps
+around Jerome's wrists, running up his sleeves, so disposed that
+the act of surrendering meant instant death to him who might
+demand.
+
+"May not be ethical, Fenton"--quietly--"but it certainly is good
+sense to shoot first and explain later when you're handling a chap
+like Avec. Better make preparations, too."
+
+I objected. I pointed out what I have already mentioned; that,
+together with the ring, the Rhamda offered our only clues to the
+Blind Spot. Destroy the man and we would destroy one of our two
+hopes of rescuing our friends from the unthinkable fate that had
+overtaken them.
+
+"No"--decisively. "We don't want to kill; we want to KEEP him.
+Bullets won't do. I see no reason, however, why you shouldn't load
+that thing with cartridges containing chemicals which would have
+an effect similar to that of a gas bomb. Once you can make him
+helpless, so that you can put those steel bracelets on him, we'll
+see how dangerous he is with his hands behind him!"
+
+"I get you"--thoughtfully. "I know a chemist who will make up
+'Paralysis' gas for me, in the form of gelatine capsules. Shoot
+'em at the Rhamda; burst upon striking. Safe enough for me, and
+yet put him out of business long enough to fit him with the
+jewellery."
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+But I had other notions about handling the Rhamda. Being satisfied
+that mere strength and agility were valueless against him, I
+concluded that he, likewise realising this, would be on the
+lookout for any possible trap.
+
+Consequently, if I hoped to keep the man, and force him to tell us
+what we wanted to know, then I must make use of something other
+than physical means. Moreover, I gave him credit for an
+exceptional amount of insight. Call it super-instinct, or what you
+will, the fellow's intellect was transcendental.
+
+Once having decided that it must be a battle of wits I took a step
+which may seem, at first, a little peculiar.
+
+I called upon a certain lady to whom I shall give the name of
+Clarke, since that is not the correct one. I took her fully and
+frankly into my confidence. It is the only way, when dealing with
+a practitioner. And since, like most of my fellow citizens, she
+had heard something of the come and go, elusive habits of our men,
+together with the Holcomb affair, it was easy for her to
+understand just what I wanted.
+
+"I see," she mused. "You wish to be surrounded by an influence
+that will not so much protect you, as vitalise and strengthen you
+whenever you come in contact with Avec. It will be a simple
+matter. How far do you wish to go?" And thus it was arranged, the
+plan calling for the co-operation of some twenty of her
+colleagues.
+
+My fellow engineers may sneer, if they like. I know the usual
+notion: that the "power of mind over matter" is all in the brain
+of the patient. That the efforts of the practitioner are merely
+inductive, and so on.
+
+But I think that the most sceptical will agree that I did quite
+right in seeking whatever support I could get before crossing
+swords with a man as keen as Avec.
+
+Nevertheless, before an opportunity arrived to make use of the
+intellectual machinery which my money had started into operation,
+something occurred which almost threw the whole thing out of gear.
+
+It was the evening after I had returned from Miss Clarke's office.
+Both Charlotte and I had a premonition, after supper, that things
+were going to happen. We all went into the parlour, sat down, and
+waited.
+
+Presently we started the gramophone. Jerome sat nearest the
+instrument, where he could without rising, lean over and change
+the records. And all three of us recall that the selection being
+played at the moment was "I Am Climbing Mountains," a sentimental
+little melody sung by a popular tenor. Certainly the piece was far
+from being melancholy, mysterious, or otherwise likely to attract
+the occult.
+
+I remember that we played it twice, and it was just as the singer
+reached the beginning of the final chorus that Charlotte, who sat
+nearest the door, made a quick move and shivered, as though with
+cold.
+
+From where I sat, near the dining-room door, I could see through
+into the hall. Charlotte's action made me think that the door
+might have become unlatched, allowing a draught to come through.
+Afterwards she said that she had felt something rather like a
+breeze pass her chair.
+
+In the middle of the room stood a long, massive table, of
+conventional library type. Overhead was a heavy, burnished copper
+fixture, from which a cluster of electric bulbs threw their
+brilliance upward, so that the room was evenly lighted with the
+diffused rays as reflected from the ceiling. Thus, there were no
+shadows to confuse the problem.
+
+The chorus of the song was almost through when I heard from the
+direction of the table a faint sound, as though someone had drawn
+fingers lightly across the polished oak. I listened; the sound was
+not repeated, at least not loud enough for me to catch it above
+the music. Next moment, however, the record came to an end; Jerome
+leaned forward to put on another, and Charlotte opened her mouth
+as though to suggest what the new selection might be. But she
+never said the words.
+
+It began with a scintillating iridescence, up on the ceiling, not
+eight feet from where I sat. As I looked the spot grew, and
+spread, and flared out. It was blue like the elusive blue of the
+gem; only, it was more like flame--the flame of electrical
+apparatus.
+
+Then, down from that blinding radiance there crept, rather than
+dropped a single thread of incandescence, vivid, with a tinge of
+the colour from which it had surged. Down it crept to the floor;
+it was like an irregular streak of lightning, hanging motionless
+between ceiling and floor, just for the fraction of a second. All
+in total silence.
+
+And then the radiance vanished, disappeared, snuffed out as one
+might snuff out a candle. And in its stead--
+
+There appeared a fourth person in the room.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+THE ROUSING OF A MIND
+
+
+It was a girl. Not the Nervina. No; this girl was quite another
+person.
+
+Even now I find it curiously hard to describe her. For me to say
+that she was the picture of innocence, of purity, and of youth, is
+still to leave unsaid the secret of her loveliness.
+
+For this stranger, coming out of the thin air into our midst, held
+me with a glorious fascination. From the first I felt no
+misgivings, such as Harry confesses he experienced when he fell
+under the Nervina's charm. I knew as I watched the stranger's
+wondering, puzzled features, that I had never before seen anyone
+so lovely, so attractive, and so utterly beyond suspicion.
+
+It was only later that I noted her amazingly delicate complexion,
+fair as her hair was golden; her deep blue eyes, round face, and
+the girlish supple figure; or her robe-like garments of very soft,
+white material. For she commenced almost instantly to talk.
+
+But we understood only with the greatest of difficulty. She spoke
+as might one who, after living in perfect solitude for a score of
+years, is suddenly called upon to use language. And I remembered
+that Rhamda Avec had told Jerome that he had only BEGUN the use of
+language.
+
+"Who are you?" was her first remark, in the sweetest voice
+conceivable. But there was both fear and anxiety in her manner.
+"How--did I--get--here?"
+
+"You came out of the Blind Spot!" I spoke, jerking out the words
+nervously and, as I saw, too rapidly. I repeated them more slowly.
+But she did not comprehend.
+
+"The--Blind--Spot," she pondered. "What--is that?"
+
+Next instant, before I could think to warn her, the room trembled
+with the terrific clang of the Blind Spot bell. Just one
+overwhelming peal; no more. At the same time there came a revival
+of the luminous spot in the ceiling. But, with the last tones of
+the bell, the spot faded to nothing.
+
+The girl was pitifully frightened. I sprang to my feet and
+steadied her with one hand--something that I had not dared to do
+as long as the Spot remained open. The touch of my fingers, as she
+swayed, had the effect of bringing her to herself. She listened
+intelligently to what I said.
+
+"The Blind Spot"--speaking with the utmost care--"is the name we
+have given to a certain mystery. It is always marked by the sound
+you have just heard; that bell always rings when the phenomenon is
+at an end."
+
+"And--the--phenomenon," uttering the word with difficulty, "what
+is that?"
+
+"You," I returned. "Up till now three human beings have
+disappeared into what we call the Blind Spot. You are the first to
+be seen coming out of it."
+
+"Hobart," interrupted Charlotte, coming to my side. "Let me."
+
+I stepped back, and Charlotte quietly passed an arm round the
+girl's waist. Together they stepped over to Charlotte's chair.
+
+I noted the odd way in which the newcomer walked, unsteadily,
+uncertainly, like a child taking its first steps. I glanced at
+Jerome, wondering if this tallied with what he recalled of the
+Rhamda; and he gave a short nod.
+
+"Don't be frightened," said Charlotte softly, "we are your
+friends. In a way we have been expecting you, and we shall see to
+it that no harm comes to you.
+
+"Which would you prefer--to ask questions, or to answer them?"
+
+"I"--the girl hesitated--"I--hardly--know. Perhaps--you had--
+better--ask something first."
+
+"Good. Do you remember where you came from? Can you recall the
+events just prior to your arrival here?"
+
+The girl looked helplessly from the one to the other of us. She
+seemed to be searching for some clue. Finally she shook her head
+in a hopeless, despairing fashion.
+
+"I can't remember," speaking with a shade less difficulty. "The
+last thing--I recall is--seeing--you three--staring--at me."
+
+This was a poser. To think, a person who, before our very eyes,
+had materialised out of the Blind Spot, was unable to tell us
+anything about it!
+
+Still this lack of memory might be only a temporary condition,
+brought on by the special conditions under which she had emerged;
+an after-effect, as it were, of the semi-electrical phenomena. And
+it turned out that I was right.
+
+"Then," suggested Charlotte, "suppose you ask us something."
+
+The girl's eyes stopped roving and rested definitely, steadily,
+upon my own. And she spoke; still a little hesitantly:
+
+"Who are you? What is your name?"
+
+"Name?" taken wholly by surprise. "Ah--it is Hobart Fenton. And"--
+automatically--"this is my sister Charlotte. The gentleman over
+there is Mr. Jerome."
+
+"I am glad to know you, Hobart," with perfect simplicity and
+apparent pleasure; "and you, Charlotte," passing an arm round my
+sister's neck; "and you--Mister." Evidently she thought the title
+of "mister" to be Jerome's first name.
+
+Then she went on to say, her eyes coming back to mine:
+
+"Why do you look at me that way, Hobart?"
+
+Just like that! I felt my cheeks go hot and cold by turns. For a
+moment I was helpless; then I made up my mind to be just as frank
+and candid as she.
+
+"Because you're so good to look at!" I blurted out. "I never
+appreciated my eyesight as I do right now!"
+
+"I am glad," she returned, simply and absolutely without a trace
+of confusion or resentment. "I know that I rather like to look at
+you--too."
+
+Another stunned silence. And this time I didn't notice any change
+in the temperature of my face; I was too busily engaged in
+searching the depths of those warm blue eyes.
+
+She didn't blush, or even drop her eyes. She smiled, however, a
+gentle, tremulous smile that showed some deep feeling behind her
+unwavering gaze.
+
+I recovered myself with a start, drew my chair up in front of her
+and took both her hands firmly in mine. Whereupon my resolution
+nearly deserted me. How warm and soft, and altogether adorable
+they were. I drew a long breath and began:
+
+"My dear--By the way, what is your name?"
+
+"I"--regretfully, after a moment's thought--"I don't know,
+Hobart."
+
+"Quite so," as though the fact was commonplace. "We will have to
+provide you with a name. Any suggestions?"
+
+Charlotte hesitated only a second. "Let's call her Ariadne; it was
+Harry's mother's name."
+
+"That's so; fine! Do you like the name--Ariadne?"
+
+"Yes," both pleased and relieved. At the same time she looked
+oddly puzzled, and I could see her lips moving silently as she
+repeated the name to herself.
+
+Not for an instant did I let go of those wonderful fingers. "What
+I want you to know, Ariadne, is that you have come into a world
+that is, perhaps, more or less like the one that you have just
+left. For all I know it is one and the same world, only, in some
+fashion not yet understood, you may have transported yourself to
+this place. Perhaps not.
+
+"Now, we call this a room, a part of the house. Outside is a
+street. That street is one of hundreds in a vast city, which
+consists of a multitude of such houses together with other and
+vastly larger structures. And these structures all rest upon a
+solid material which we call the ground or earth.
+
+"The fact that you understand our language indicates that either
+you have fallen heir to a body and a brain which are thoroughly in
+tune with ours, or else--and please understand that we know very
+little of this mystery--or else your own body has somehow become
+translated into a condition which answers the same purpose.
+
+"At any rate, you ought to comprehend what I mean by the term
+'earth.' Do you?"
+
+"Oh, yes," brightly. "I seem to understand everything you say,
+Hobart."
+
+"Then there is a corresponding picture in your mind to each
+thought I have given you?"
+
+"I think so," not so positively.
+
+"Well," hoping that I could make it clear, "this earth is formed
+in a huge globe, part of which is covered by another material,
+which we term water. And the portions which are not so covered,
+and are capable of supporting the structures which constitute the
+city, we call by still another name. Can you supply that name?"
+
+"Continents," without hesitation.
+
+"Fine!" This was a starter anyhow. "We'll soon have your memory
+working!
+
+"However, what I really began to say is this; each of these
+continents--and they are several in number--is inhabited by people
+more or less like ourselves. There is a vast number, all told.
+Each is either male or female, like ourselves--you seem to take
+this for granted, however--and you will find them all exceedingly
+interesting.
+
+"Now, in all fairness," letting go her hands at last "you must
+understand that there are, among the people whom you have yet to
+see, great numbers who are far more--well, attractive, than I am.
+
+"And you must know," even taking my gaze away, "that not all
+persons are as friendly as we. You will find some who are
+antagonistic to you, and likely to take advantage of--well, your
+unsophisticated viewpoint. In short"--desperately--"you must learn
+right away not to accept people without question; you must form
+the habit of reserving judgment, of waiting until you have more
+facts, before reaching an opinion of others.
+
+"You must do this as a matter of self-protection, and in the
+interests of your greatest welfare."
+
+And I stopped.
+
+She seemed to be thinking over what I said. In the end she
+observed: "This seems reasonable. I feel sure that wherever I came
+from such advice would have fitted.
+
+"However"--smiling at me in a manner to which I can give no
+description other than affectionate--"I have no doubts about you,
+Hobart. I know you are absolutely all right."
+
+And before I could recover from the bliss into which her statement
+threw me, she turned to Charlotte with "You too, Charlotte; I know
+I can trust you."
+
+But when she looked at Jerome she commented: "I can trust you,
+Mister, too; almost as much, but not quite. If you didn't suspect
+me I could trust you completely."
+
+Jerome went white. He spoke for the first time since the girl's
+coming.
+
+"How--how did you know that I suspected you?"
+
+"I can't explain; I don't know myself." Then wistfully: "I wish
+you would stop suspecting me, Mister. I have nothing to conceal
+from you."
+
+"I know it!" Jerome burst out, excitedly, apologetically. "I know
+it now! You're all right, I'm satisfied of that from now on!"
+
+She sighed in pure pleasure. And she offered one hand to Jerome.
+He took it as though it were a humming-bird's egg, and turned
+almost purple. At the same time the honest, fervid manliness which
+backed the detective's professional nature shone through for the
+first time in my knowledge of him. From that moment his devotion
+to the girl was as absolute as that of the fondest father who ever
+lived.
+
+Well, no need to detail all that was said during the next hour.
+Bit by bit we added to the girl's knowledge of the world into
+which she had emerged, and bit by bit there unfolded in her mind a
+corresponding image of the world from which she had come. And
+when, for an experiment, we took her out on the front porch and
+showed her the stars, we were fairly amazed at the thoughts they
+aroused.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, in sheer rapture. "I know what those are!" By now
+she was speaking fairly well. "They are stars!" Then: "They don't
+look the same. They're not outlined in the same way as I know. But
+they can't be anything else!"
+
+NOT OUTLINED THE SAME. I took this to be a very significant fact.
+What did it mean?
+
+"Look"--showing her the constellation Leo, on the ecliptic, and
+therefore visible to both the northern and southern hemispheres--
+"do you recognise that?"
+
+"Yes," decisively. "That is, the arrangement; but not the
+appearance of the separate stars."
+
+And we found this to be true of the entire sky. Nothing was
+entirely familiar to her; yet, she assured us, the stars could be
+nothing else. Her previous knowledge told her this without
+explaining why, and without a hint as to the reason for the
+dissimilarity.
+
+"Is it possible," said I, speaking half to myself, "that she has
+come from another planet?"
+
+For we know that the sky, as seen from any of the eight planets in
+this solar system, would present practically the same appearance;
+but if viewed from a planet belonging to any other star-sun, the
+constellations would be more or less altered in their arrangement,
+because of the vast distance involved. As for the difference in
+the appearance of the individual stars, that might be accounted
+for by a dissimilarity in the chemical make-up of the atmosphere.
+
+"Ariadne, it may be you've come from another world!"
+
+"No," seemingly quite conscious that she was contradicting me. For
+that matter there wasn't anything offensive about her kind of
+frankness. "No, Hobart. I feel too much at home to have come from
+any other world than this one."
+
+Temporarily I was floored. How could she, so ignorant of other
+matters, feel so sure of this? There was no explaining it.
+
+We went back into the house. As it happened, my eye struck first
+the gramophone. And it seemed a good idea to test her knowledge
+with this.
+
+"Is this apparatus familiar to you?"
+
+"No. What is it for?"
+
+"Do you understand what is meant by the term 'music'?"
+
+"Yes," with instant pleasure. "This is music." She proceeded,
+without the slightest self-consciousness, to sing in a sweet clear
+soprano, and treated us to the chorus of "I Am Climbing
+Mountains!"
+
+"Good heavens!" gasped Charlotte. "What can it mean?"
+
+For a moment the explanation evaded me. Then I reasoned: "She must
+have a sub-conscious memory of what was being played just before
+she materialised."
+
+And to prove this I picked out an instrumental piece which we had
+not played all the evening. It was the finale of the overture to
+"Faust"; a selection, by the way, which was a great favourite of
+Harry's and is one of mine. Ariadne listened in silence to the
+end.
+
+"I seem to have heard something like it before," she decided
+slowly. "The melody, not the--the instrumentation. But it reminds
+me of something that I like very much." Whereupon she began to
+sing for us. But this time her voice was stronger and more
+dramatic; and as for the composition--all I can say is it had a
+wild, fierce ring to it, like "Men of Harlech"; only the notes did
+not correspond to the chromatic scale. SHE SANG IN AN ENTIRELY NEW
+MUSICAL SYSTEM.
+
+"By George!" when she had done. "Now we HAVE got something! For
+the first time, we've heard some genuine, unadulterated Blind Spot
+stuff!"
+
+"You mean," from Charlotte, excitedly, "that she has finally
+recovered her memory?"
+
+It was the girl herself who answered. She shot to her feet, and
+her face became transfigured with a wonderful joy. At the same
+time she blinked hurriedly, as though to shut off a sight that
+staggered her.
+
+"Oh, I remember! I"--she almost sobbed in her delight--"it is all
+plain to me, now! I know who I am!"
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+THE RHAMDA AGAIN
+
+
+I could have yelled for joy. We were about to learn something of
+the Blind Spot--something that might help us to save Harry, and
+Chick, and the professor!
+
+Ariadne seemed to know that a great deal depended upon what she
+was about to tell us. She deliberately sat down, and rested her
+chin upon her hand, as though determining upon the best way of
+telling something very difficult to express.
+
+As for Charlotte, Jerry, and myself, we managed somehow to
+restrain our curiosity enough to keep silence. But we could not
+help glancing more or less wonderingly at our visitor. Presently I
+realised this, and got up and walked quietly about, as though
+intent upon a problem of my own.
+
+Which was true enough. I had come to a very startling conclusion--
+I, Hobart Fenton, had fallen in love!
+
+What was more, this affection of the heart had come to me, a very
+strong man, just as an affection of the lungs is said to strike
+such men--all of a sudden and hard. One moment I had been a
+sturdy, independent soul, intent upon scientific investigation,
+the only symptoms of sentimental potentialities being my perfectly
+normal love for my sister and for my old friend. Then, before my
+very eyes, I had been smitten thus!
+
+And the worst part of it was, I found myself ENJOYING the
+sensation. It made not the slightest difference to me that I had
+fallen in love with a girl who was only a step removed from a
+wraith. Mysteriously she had come to me; as mysteriously she might
+depart. I had yet to know from what sort of country she had come!
+
+But that made no difference. She was HERE, in the same house with
+me; I had held her hands; and I knew her to be very, very real
+indeed just then. And when I considered the possibility of her
+disappearing just as inexplicably as she had come--well, my face
+went cold, I admit. But at the same time I felt sure of this
+much--I should never love any other woman.
+
+The thought left me sober. I paused in my pacing and looked at
+her. As though in answer to my gaze she glanced up and smiled so
+affectionately that it was all I could do to keep from leaping
+forward and taking her right into my arms.
+
+I turned hastily, and to cover my confusion I began to hum a
+strain from the part of "Faust" to which I have referred. I hummed
+it through, and was beginning again, when I was startled to hear
+this from the girl: "Oh, then you are Hobart!"
+
+I wheeled, to see her face filled with a wonderful light.
+
+"Hobart," she repeated, as one might repeat the name of a very
+dear one. "That--that music you were humming! Why, I heard Harry
+Wendel humming that yesterday!"
+
+I suppose we looked very stupid, the three of us, so dumbfounded
+that we could do nothing but gape incredulously at that
+extraordinary creature and her equally extraordinary utterance.
+She immediately did her best to atone for her sensation.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can make it clear," she said, smiling
+dubiously, "but if you will use your imaginations and try to fill
+in the gaps in what I say you may get a fair idea of the place I
+have come from, and where Harry is."
+
+We leaned forward, intensely alert. I shall never forget the
+pitiful eagerness in poor Charlotte's face. It meant more to her,
+perhaps, than to anyone else.
+
+At the precise instant I heard a sound, off in the breakfast room.
+It seemed to be a subdued knocking, or rather a pounding at the
+door.
+
+Frowning at the interruption, I stepped through the dining-room
+into the breakfast room, where the sounds came from. And I was not
+a little puzzled to note that the door to the basement was
+receiving the blows.
+
+Now I had been the last to visit the basement and had locked the
+door--from force of habit, I suppose--leaving the key in the lock.
+It was still there. And there is but one way to enter that
+basement: through this one door, and no other.
+
+"Who is it?" I called out peremptorily. No answer; only a
+repetition of the pounds.
+
+"What do you want?"--louder.
+
+"Open this door, quick!" cane a muffled reply.
+
+The voice was unrecognisable. I stood and thought quickly; then
+shouted:
+
+"Wait a minute, until I get a key!"
+
+I motioned to Charlotte. She tip-toed to my side. I whispered
+something in her ear; and she slipped off into the kitchen, there
+to phone Miss Clarke and warn her to notify her colleagues at
+once. And so, as I unlocked the door, I was fortified by the
+knowledge that I would be assisted by the combined mind-force of a
+score of highly developed intellects.
+
+I was little surprised, a second later, to see that the intruder
+was Rhamda Avec. What reason to expect anyone else?
+
+"How did you get down there?" I demanded. "Don't you realise that
+you are liable to arrest for trespass?"
+
+I said it merely to start conversation but it served only to bring
+a slight smile to the face of this professed friend of ours, for
+whom we felt nothing but distrust and fear.
+
+"Let us not waste time in trivialities, Fenton," he rejoined
+gently. He brushed a fleck of cobweb from his coat. "By this time
+you ought to know that you cannot deal with me in any ordinary
+fashion."
+
+I made no comment as, without asking my leave or awaiting an
+invitation, he stepped through into the dining-room and thence
+into the parlour. I followed, half tempted to strike him down from
+behind, but restrained more by the fact that I must spare him than
+from any compunctions. Seemingly he knew this as well as I, he was
+serenely at ease.
+
+And thus he stood before Jerome and Ariadne. The detective made a
+single exclamation, and furtively shifted his coat sleeves. He was
+getting that infernal breast gun into action. As for Ariadne, she
+stared at the new arrival as though astonished at first.
+
+When Charlotte returned, a moment later, she showed only mild
+surprise. She quietly took her chair and as quietly moved her hand
+so that the gem shone in full view of our visitor.
+
+But he gave her and the stone only a single glance, and then
+rested his eyes upon our new friend. To my anxiety, Ariadne was
+gazing fixedly at him now, her expression combining both agitation
+and a vague fear.
+
+It could not have been due entirely to his unusual appearance; for
+there was no denying that this grey-haired yet young-faced man
+with the distinguished, courteous bearing, looked even younger
+that night than ever before. No; the girl's concern was deeper,
+more acute. I felt an unaccountable alarm.
+
+From Ariadne to me the Rhamda glanced, then back again; and a
+quick satisfied smile came to his mouth. He gave an almost
+imperceptible nod. And, keeping his gaze fixed upon her eyes, he
+remarked carelessly:
+
+"Which of these chairs shall I sit in, Fenton?"
+
+"This one," I replied instantly, pointing to the one I had just
+quit.
+
+Smiling, he selected a chair a few feet away.
+
+Whereupon I congratulated myself. The man feared me, then; yet he
+ranked my mentality no higher than that! In other words,
+remarkably clever though he might be, and as yet unthwarted, he
+could by no means be called omnipotent.
+
+"For your benefit, Mr. Jerome, let me say that I phoned Miss
+Fenton and her brother a few days ago, and urged them to give up
+their notion of occupying this house or of attempting to solve the
+mystery that you are already acquainted with. And I prophesied,
+Mr. Jerome, that their refusal to accept my advice would be
+followed by events that would justify me.
+
+"They refused, as you know; and I am here tonight to make a final
+plea, so that they may escape the consequences of their
+wilfulness."
+
+"You're a crook! And the more I see of you, Avec, the more easily
+I can understand why they turned you down!"
+
+"So you too, are prejudiced against me. I cannot understand this.
+My motives are quite above question, I assure you."
+
+"Really!" I observed sarcastically. I stole a glance at Ariadne;
+her eyes were still riveted, in a rapt yet half-fearful
+abstraction, upon the face of the Rhamda. It was time I took her
+attention away.
+
+I called her name. She did not move her head, or reply. I said it
+louder: "Ariadne!"
+
+"What is it, Hobart?"--very softly.
+
+"Ariadne, this gentleman possesses a great deal of knowledge of
+the locality from which you came. We are interested in him,
+because we feel sure that, if he chose to, he could tell us
+something about our friends who--about Harry Wendel." Why not lay
+the cards plainly on the table? The Rhamda must be aware of it
+all, anyhow. "And as this man has said, he has tried to prevent us
+from solving the mystery. It occurs to me, Ariadne, that you might
+recognise this man. But apparently--"
+
+She shook her head just perceptibly. I proceeded:
+
+"He is pleased to call his warning a prophecy; but we feel that a
+threat is a threat. What he really wants is that ring."
+
+Ariadne had already, earlier in the hour, given the gem several
+curious glances. Now she stirred and sighed, and was about to turn
+her eyes from the Rhamda to the ring when he spoke again; this
+time in a voice as sharp as a steel blade:
+
+"I do not enjoy being misunderstood, much less being
+misrepresented, Mr. Fenton. At the same time, since you have seen
+fit to brand me in such uncomplimentary terms, suppose I state
+what I have to say very bluntly, so that there may be no mistake
+about it. If you do not either quit this house, or give up the
+ring--NOW--you will surely regret it the rest of your lives!"
+
+From the corner of my eye I saw Jerome moving slowly in his chair,
+so that he could face directly towards the Rhamda. His hands were
+ready for the swift, upward jerk which, I knew, would stifle our
+caller.
+
+As for my sister, she merely turned the ring so that the gem no
+longer faced the Rhamda; and with the other hand she reached out
+and grasped Ariadne's firmly.
+
+Avec sat with his two hands clasping the arms of his chair. His
+fingers drummed nervously but lightly on the wood. And then,
+suddenly, they stopped their motion.
+
+"Your answer, Fenton," in his usual gentle voice. "I can give you
+no more time," I did not need to consult Charlotte or Jerome. I
+knew what they would have said.
+
+"You are welcome to my answer. It is--no!"
+
+As I spoke the last word my gaze was fixed on the Rhamda's eyes.
+He, on the other hand, was looking towards Ariadne. And at the
+very instant an expression, as of alarm and sorrow, swept into the
+man's face.
+
+My glance jumped to Ariadne. Her eyes were closed, her face
+suffused; she seemed to be suffocating. She gave a queer little
+sound, half gasp and half cry.
+
+Simultaneously Jerome's hands shot into the air. The room shivered
+with the stunning report of his breast gun. And every pellet
+struck the Rhamda and burst.
+
+A look of intense astonishment came into his face. He gave Jerome
+a fleeting glance, almost of admiration; then his nostrils
+contracted with pain as the gas attacked his lungs.
+
+Another second, and each of us were reeling with the fumes. Jerome
+started toward the window, to raise it, then sank back into his
+chair. And when he turned round--
+
+He and I and Charlotte saw an extraordinary thing. Instead of
+succumbing to the gas, Rhamda Avec somehow recovered himself. And
+while the rest of us remained still too numbed to move or speak,
+he found power to do both.
+
+"I warned you plainly, Fenton," as though nothing in particular
+had happened. "And now see what you have brought upon the poor
+child!"
+
+I could only roll my head stupidly, to stare at Ariadne's now
+senseless form.
+
+"As usual, Fenton, you will blame me for it. I cannot help that.
+But it may still be possible for you to repent of your folly and
+escape your fate. You are playing with terrible forces. If you do
+repent, just follow these instructions"--laying a card on the
+table--"and I will see what I can do for you. I wish you all good
+night."
+
+And with that, pausing only to make a courtly bow to Charlotte,
+Rhamda Avec turned and walked deliberately, dignifiedly from the
+room, while the two men and a woman stared helplessly after him
+and allowed him to go in peace.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+THE LIVING DEATH
+
+
+As soon as the fresh air had revived us somewhat, we first of all
+examined Ariadne. She still lay unconscious, very pale, and
+alarmingly limp. I picked her up and carried her into the next
+room, where there was a sofa, while Jerome went for water and
+Charlotte brought smelling-salts.
+
+Neither of these had any effect. Ariadne seemed to be scarcely
+breathing; her heart beat only faintly, and there was no response
+to such other methods as friction, slapping, or pinching of
+fingernails.
+
+"We had better call a doctor," decided Charlotte promptly, and
+went to the phone.
+
+I picked up the card which the Rhamda had left. It contained
+simply his name, together with one other word--the name of a
+morning newspaper. Evidently he meant for us to insert an
+advertisement as soon as we were ready to capitulate.
+
+"Not yet!" the three of us decided, after talking it over. And we
+waited as patiently as we could during the fifteen minutes that
+elapsed before the telephoning got results.
+
+It brought Dr. Hansen, who, it may be remembered, was closely
+identified with the Chick Watson disappearance. He made a rapid
+but very careful examination.
+
+"It has all the appearance of a mild electric shock. What caused
+it, Fenton?"
+
+I told him. His eyes narrowed when I mentioned Avec, then widened
+in astonishment and incredulity as I related the man's
+inexplicable effect upon the girl, and his strange immunity to the
+poison gas. But the doctor asked nothing further about our
+situation, proceeding at once to apply several restoratives. All
+were without result. As a final resort, he even rigged up an
+electrical connection, making use of some coils which I had
+upstairs, and endeavoured to arouse the girl in that fashion.
+Still without result.
+
+"Good Lord, Hansen!" I finally burst out, when he stood back,
+apparently baffled. "She's simply GOT to be revived! We can't
+allow her to succumb to that scoundrel's power, whatever it is!"
+
+"Why not a blood transfusion?" I asked eagerly, as an idea came to
+me. "I'm in perfect condition. What about it? Go to it, doc!"
+
+He slowly shook his head. And beyond a single searching glance
+into my eyes, wherein he must have read something more than I had
+said, he regretfully replied:
+
+"This is a case for a specialist, Fenton. Everything considered, I
+should say that she is suffering from a purely mental condition;
+but whether it had a physical or a psychic origin, I can't say."
+
+In short, he did not feel safe about going ahead with any really
+heroic measures until a brain specialist was called in.
+
+I had a good deal of confidence in Hansen. And what he said
+sounded reasonable. So we agreed to his calling in a Dr. Higgins--
+the same man, in fact, who was too late in reaching the house to
+save Chick on that memorable night a year before.
+
+His examination was swift and convincingly competent. He went over
+the same ground that Hansen had covered, took the blood pressure
+and other instrumental data, and asked us several questions
+regarding Ariadne's mentality as we knew it. Scarcely stopping to
+think it over, Higgins decided:
+
+"The young woman is suffering from a temporary dissociation of
+brain centres. Her cerebrum does not co-act with her cerebellum.
+In other words, her conscious mind, for lack of means to express
+itself, is for the time being dormant as in sleep.
+
+"But it is not like ordinary sleep. Such is induced by fatigue of
+the nerve channels. This young woman's condition is produced by
+shock; and since there was no physical violence, we must conclude
+that the shock was psychic.
+
+"In that case, the condition will last until one of two things
+occurs; either she must be similarly shocked back into
+sensibility--and I can't see how this can happen, Fenton, unless
+you can secure the co-operation of the man to whom you attribute
+the matter--or she must lie that way indefinitely."
+
+"Indefinitely!" I exclaimed, sensing something ominous. "You mean--"
+
+"That there is no known method of reviving a patient in such a
+condition. It might be called psychic catalepsy. To speak plainly,
+Fenton, unless this man revives her, she will remain unconscious
+until her death."
+
+I shuddered. What horrible thing had come into our lives to
+afflict us with so dreadful a prospect?
+
+"Is--is there no hope, Dr. Higgins?"
+
+"Very little"--gently but decisively. "All I can assure you is
+that she will not die immediately. From the general state of her
+health, she will live at least seventy-two hours. After that--you
+must be prepared for the worst at any moment."
+
+I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an
+awful situation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda--
+
+I hunted up Jerome. I said:
+
+"Jerry, the thing is plainly up to you and me. Higgins gives us
+three days. Day after tomorrow morning, if we haven't got results
+by that time, we've got to give in and put that ad in the paper.
+But I don't mean to give in, Jerry! Not until I've exhausted every
+other possibility!"
+
+"What're you going to do?" he asked thoughtfully.
+
+"Work on that ring. I was a fool not to get busy sooner. As for
+the rest, that's up to you! You've got to get yourself on the
+Rhamda's trail as soon as you can, and camp there! The first
+chance you get, ransack his room and belongings, and bring me
+every bit of data you find. Between him and the ring, the truth
+ought to come out."
+
+"All right. But don't forget that--" pointing to the unexplained
+spot on the wood of the doorway. "You've got a mighty important
+clue there, waiting for you to analyse it."
+
+And he went and got his hat, and left the house. His final remark
+was that we wouldn't see him back until he had something to report
+about our man.
+
+Five o'clock the next morning found my sister and me out of our
+beds and desperately busy. She spent a good deal of time, of
+course in caring for Ariadne. The poor girl showed no improvement
+at all; and we got scant encouragement from the fact that she
+looked no worse.
+
+Not a sound escaped her lips; her eyes remained closed; she gave
+no sign of life, save her barely perceptible breathing. It made me
+sick at heart just to look at her; so near, and yet so fearfully
+far away.
+
+But when Charlotte could spare any time she gave me considerable
+help in what I was trying to do. One great service she was
+rendering has already been made clear: she wore the ring
+constantly, thus relieving me of the anxiety of caring for it. I
+was very cautious not to have it in my possession for more than a
+few minutes at a time.
+
+My first move was to set down, in orderly fashion, the list of the
+gem's attributes. I grouped together the fluctuating nature of its
+pale blue colour, its power of reproducing those who had gone into
+the Blind Spot, its combination of perfect solidity with extreme
+lightness; its quality of coldness to the touch of a male, and
+warmth to that of a female; and finally its ability to induct--I
+think this is the right term--to induct sounds out of the unknown.
+This last quality might be called spasmodic or accidental, whereas
+the others were permanent and constant.
+
+Now, to this list I presently was able to add that the gem
+possessed no radioactive properties that I could detect with the
+usual means. It was only when I began dabbling in chemistry that I
+learned things.
+
+By placing the gem inside a glass bell, and exhausting as much air
+as possible from around it, the way was cleared for introducing
+other forms of gases. Whereupon I discovered this:
+
+The stone will absorb any given quantity of hydrogen gas.
+
+In this respect it behaves analogously to that curious place on
+the door-frame. Only, it absorbs gas, no liquid; and not any gas,
+either--none but hydrogen.
+
+Now, obviously this gem cannot truly absorb so much material, in
+the sense of retaining it as well. The simple test of weighing it
+afterwards proves this; for its weight remains the same in any
+circumstances.
+
+Moreover, unlike the liquids which I poured into the wood and saw
+afterwards in the basement, the gas does not escape back into the
+air. I kept it under the Dell long enough to be sure of that. No;
+that hydrogen is, manifestly, translated into the Blind Spot.
+
+Learning nothing further about the gem at that time, I proceeded
+to investigate the trim of the door. I began by trying to find out
+the precise thickness of that liquid-absorbing layer.
+
+To do this I scraped off the "skin" of the air-darkened wood. This
+layer was .02 of an inch thick. And--that was the total amount of
+the active material!
+
+I put these scrapings through a long list of experiments. They
+told me nothing valuable. I learned only one detail worth
+mentioning; if a fragment of the scrapings be brought near to the
+Holcomb gem--say, to within two inches--the scrapings will burst
+into flame. It is merely a bright, pinkish flare, like that made
+by smokeless rifle-powder. No ashes remain. After that we took
+care not to bring the ring near the remaining material on the
+board.
+
+All this occurred on the first day after Ariadne was stricken.
+Jerome phoned to say that he had engaged the services of a dozen
+private detectives, and expected to get wind of the Rhamda any
+hour. Both Dr. Hansen and Dr. Higgins called twice, without being
+able to detect any change for the better or otherwise in their
+patient.
+
+That evening Charlotte and I concluded that we could not hold out
+any longer. We must give in to the Rhamda. I phoned for a
+messenger, and sent an advertisement to the newspaper which Avec
+had indicated.
+
+The thing was done. We had capitulated.
+
+The next development would be another and triumphant call from the
+Rhamda, and this time we would have to give up the gem to him if
+we were to save Ariadne.
+
+The game was up.
+
+But instead of taking the matter philosophically, I worried about
+it all night. I told myself again and again that I was foolish to
+think about something that couldn't be helped. Why not forget it,
+and go to sleep?
+
+But somehow I couldn't. I lay wide awake till long past midnight,
+finding myself growing more and more nervous. At last, such was
+the tension of it all, I got up and dressed. It was then about
+one-thirty, and I stepped out on the street for a walk.
+
+Half an hour later I returned, my lungs full of fresh air, hoping
+that I could now sleep. It was only a hope. Never have I felt
+wider awake than I did then.
+
+Once more--about three--I took another stroll outside. I seemed
+absolutely tireless.
+
+Each time that I had turned back home I seemed to feel stronger
+than ever, more wakeful. Finally I dropped the idea altogether,
+went to the house, and left a note for Charlotte, then walked down
+to the waterfront and watched some ships taking advantage of the
+tide. Anything to pass the time.
+
+And thus it happened, that, about eight o'clock--breakfast time at
+288 Chatterton Place--I returned to the house, and sat down at the
+table with Charlotte. First, however, I opened the morning paper
+to read our little ad.
+
+It was not there. It had not been printed.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
+
+
+I dropped the paper in dismay. Charlotte looked up, startled, gave
+me a single look, and turned pale,
+
+"What--what's the matter?" she stammered fearfully.
+
+I showed her. Then I ran to the phone. In a few seconds I was
+talking to the very man who had taken the note from the messenger
+the day before.
+
+"Yes, I handed it in along with the rest," he replied to my
+excited query. Then--"Wait a minute," said he; and a moment later
+added: "Say, Mr. Fenton, I've made a mistake! Here's the darned ad
+on the counter; it must have slipped under the blotter."
+
+I went back and told Charlotte. We stared at one another blankly.
+Why in the name of all that was baffling had our ad "slipped"
+under that blotter? And what were we to do?
+
+This was the second day!
+
+Well, we did what we could. We arranged for the insertion of the
+same notice in each of the three afternoon papers. There would
+still be time for the Rhamda to act, if he saw it.
+
+The hours dragged by. Never did time pass more slowly; and yet, I
+begrudged every one. So much for being absolutely helpless.
+
+About ten o'clock the next morning--that is to say, today; I am
+writing this the same evening--the front door bell rang. Charlotte
+answered and in a moment came back with a card. It read:
+
+SIR HENRY HODGES
+
+I nearly upset the table in my excitement. I ran into the hall.
+Who wouldn't? Sir Henry Hodges! The English scientist about whom
+the whole world was talking! The most gifted investigator of the
+day; the most widely informed; of all men on the face of the
+globe, the best equipped, mentally, to explore the unknown!
+Without the slightest formality I grabbed his hand and shook it
+until he smiled at my enthusiasm.
+
+"My dear Sir Henry," I told him, "I'm immensely glad to see you!
+The truth is, I've been hoping you'd be interested in our case;
+but I didn't have the nerve to bother you with it!"
+
+"And I," he admitted in his quiet way, "have been longing to take
+a hand in it, ever since I first heard of Professor Holcomb's
+disappearance. Didn't like to offer myself; understood that the
+matter had been hushed up and--"
+
+"For the very simple reason," I explained, "that there was nothing
+to be gained by publicity. If we had given the public the facts,
+we would have been swamped with volunteers to help us. I didn't
+know whom to confide in, Sir Henry; couldn't make up my mind. I
+only knew that one such man as yourself was just what I needed."
+
+He overlooked the compliment, and pulled out the newspaper from
+his pocket. "Bought this a few minutes ago. Saw your ad, and
+jumped to the conclusion that matters had reached an acute stage.
+Let me have the whole story, my boy, as briefly as you can."
+
+He already knew the published details. Also, he seemed to be
+acquainted--in some manner which puzzled me--with much that had
+not been printed. I sketched the affair as quickly as I could,
+making it clear that we were face to face with a crisis. When I
+wound up by saying that it was Dr. Higgins who gave Ariadne three
+days, ending about midnight, in which she might recover if we
+could secure Rhamda Avec, he said kindly:
+
+"I'm afraid you made a mistake, my boy, in not seeking some help.
+The game has reached a point where you cannot have too many brains
+on your side. Time is short for reinforcements!"
+
+He heartily approved of my course in enlisting the aid of Miss
+Clarke and her colleagues. "That is the sort of thing you need!
+People with mentality; plenty of intellectual force!" And he went
+on to make suggestions.
+
+As a result, within an hour and a half our house was sheltering
+five more persons.
+
+Miss Clarke has already been introduced. She was easily one of the
+ten most advanced practitioners in her line. And she had the
+advantage of a curiosity that was interested in everything odd,
+even though she labelled it "non-existent." She said it helped her
+faith in the real truths to be conversant with the unreal.
+
+Dr. Malloy was from the university, an out-and-out materialist, a
+psychologist who made life interesting for those who agreed with
+William James. His investigations of abnormal psychology are
+world-acknowledged.
+
+Mme. Le Fabre, we afterwards learned, had come from Versailles
+especially to investigate the matter that was bothering us. She
+possessed no mediumistic properties of her own but was a staunch
+proponent of spiritualism, believing firmly in immortality and the
+omnipotence of "translated" souls.
+
+Professor Herold is most widely known as the inventor of certain
+apparatus connected with wireless. But he is also considered the
+West's most advanced student of electrical and radio-active
+subjects.
+
+I was enormously glad to have this man's expert, high-tension
+knowledge right on tap.
+
+The remaining member of the quintet which Sir Henry advised me to
+summon requires a little explanation. Also, I am obliged to give
+him a name not his own; for it is not often that brigadier-
+generals of the United States army can openly lend their names to
+anything so far removed apparently from militarism as the
+searching of the occult.
+
+Yet we knew that this man possessed a power that few scientists
+have developed; the power of co-ordination, of handling and
+balancing great facts and forces, and of deciding promptly how
+best to meet any given situation. Not that we looked for anything
+militaristic out of the Blind Spot; far from it. We merely knew
+not what to expect, which was exactly why we wanted to have him
+with us; his type of mind is, perhaps, the most solidly comforting
+sort that any mystery-bound person can have at his side.
+
+By the time these five had gathered, Jerome had neither returned
+nor telephoned. There was not the slightest trace of Rhamda Avec;
+no guessing as to whether he had seen the ad. It was then one
+o'clock in the afternoon. Only six hours ago! It doesn't seem
+possible.
+
+So there were eight of us--three women and five men--who went
+upstairs and quietly inspected the all but lifeless form of
+Ariadne and afterwards gathered in the library below.
+
+All were thoroughly familiar with the situation. Miss Clarke
+calmly commented to the effect that the entire Blind Spot affair
+was due wholly and simply to the cumulative effects of so many,
+many subjects; the result, in other words, of error.
+
+Dr. Malloy was equally outspoken in his announcement that he
+proposed to deal with the matter from the standpoint of psychic
+aberration. He mentioned dissociated personalities, group
+hypnosis, and so on. But he declared that he was open to
+conviction, and anxious to get any and all facts.
+
+Sir Henry had a good deal of difficulty in getting Mme. Le Fabre
+to commit herself. Probably she felt that, since Sir Henry had
+gone on record as being doubtful of the spiritistic explanation of
+psychic phenomena, she might get into a controversy with him. But
+in the end she stated that she expected to find our little mystery
+simply a novel variation on what was so familiar to her.
+
+As might be supposed, General Hume had no opinion. He merely
+expressed himself as being prepared to accept any sound theory, or
+portions of such theories as might be advanced, and arrive at a
+workable conclusion therefrom. Which was exactly what we wanted of
+him.
+
+Of them all, Professor Herold showed the most enthusiasm. Perhaps
+this was because, despite his attainments, he is still young. At
+any rate, he made it clear that he was fully prepared to learn
+something entirely new in science. And he was almost eager to
+adjust his previous notions and facts to the new discoveries.
+
+When all these various viewpoints had been cleared up, and we felt
+that we understood each other, it was inevitable that we should
+look to Sir Henry to state his position. This one man combined a
+large amount of the various, specialised abilities for which the
+others were noted, and they all knew and respected him
+accordingly. Had he stood and theorised half the afternoon, they
+would willingly have sat and listened. But instead he glanced at
+his watch, and observed:
+
+"To me, the most important development of all was hearing the
+sound of a dog's bark coming from the ring. As I recall the
+details, the sound was emitted just after the gem had been
+submitted to considerable handling, from Miss Fenton's fingers to
+her brother's and back again. In other words, it was subjected to
+a mixture of opposing animal magnetisms. Suppose we experiment
+further with it now."
+
+Charlotte slipped the gem from her finger and passed it around.
+Each of us held it for a second or two; after which Charlotte
+clasped the ring tightly in her palm, while we all joined hands.
+
+It was, as I have said, broad daylight; the hour, shortly after
+one. Scarcely had our hands completed the circuit than something
+happened.
+
+From out of Charlotte's closed hand there issued an entirely new
+sound. At first it was so faint and fragmentary that only two of
+us heard it. Then it became stronger and more continuous, and
+presently we were all gazing at each other in wonderment.
+
+For the sound was that of footsteps.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+DIRECT FROM PARADISE
+
+
+The sound was not like that of the walking of the human. Nor was
+it such as an animal would make. It was neither a thud nor a
+pattering, but more like a scratching shuffle, such as reminded me
+of nothing that I had ever heard before.
+
+Next moment, however, there came another sort of sound, plainly
+audible above the footsteps. This was a thin, musical chuckle
+which ended in a deep, but faint, organ-like throb. It happened
+only once.
+
+Immediately it was followed by a steady clicking, such as might be
+made by gently striking a stick against the pavement; only
+sharper. This lasted a minute, during which the other sounds
+ceased.
+
+Once more the footsteps. They were not very loud, but in the
+stillness of that room they all but resounded.
+
+Presently Charlotte could stand it no longer. She placed the ring
+on the table, where it continued to emit those unplaceable sounds.
+
+"Well! Do--do you people," stammered Dr. Malloy, "do you people
+all hear THAT?"
+
+Miss Clarke's face was rather pale. But her mouth was firm. "It is
+nothing," said she, with theosophical positiveness. "You must not
+believe it--it is not the truth of--"
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted Sir Henry, "but this isn't something to
+argue about! It is a reality; and the sooner we all admit it, the
+better. There is a living creature of some kind making that
+sound!"
+
+"It is the spirit of some two-footed creature," asserted Mme. Le
+Fabre, plainly at her ease. She was on familiar ground now. "If
+only we had a medium!"
+
+Abruptly the sounds left the vicinity of the ring. At first we
+could not locate their new position. Then Herold declared that
+they came from under the table; and presently we were all gathered
+on the floor, listening to those odd little sounds, while the ring
+remained thirty inches above, on the top of the table!
+
+It may be that the thing, whatever it was, did not care for such a
+crowd. For shortly the shuffling ceased. And for a while we stared
+and listened, scarcely breathing, trying to locate the new
+position.
+
+Finally we went back to our chairs. We had heard nothing further.
+Nevertheless, we continued to keep silence, with our ears alert
+for anything more.
+
+"Hush!" whispered Charlotte all of a sudden. "Did you hear that?"
+And she looked up toward the ceiling.
+
+In a moment I caught the sound. It was exceedingly faint, like the
+distant thrumming of a zither. Only it was a single note, which
+did not rise and fall, although there seemed a continual variation
+in its volume.
+
+Unexpectedly the other sounds came again, down under the table.
+This time we remained in our seats and simply listened. And
+presently Sir Henry, referring to the ring, made this suggestion:
+
+"Suppose we seal it up, and see whether it inducts the sound then
+as well as when exposed."
+
+This appealed to Herold very strongly; the others were agreeable;
+so I ran upstairs to my room and secured a small screw-top metal
+canister, which I knew to be airtight. It was necessary to remove
+the stone from the ring, in order to get it into the opening in
+the can. Presently this was done; and while our invisible visitor
+continued his scratchy little walking as before, I screwed the top
+of the can down as tightly as I could.
+
+Instantly the footsteps halted.
+
+I unscrewed the top a trifle. As instantly the stepping was
+resumed.
+
+"Ah!" cried Herold. "It's a question of radioactivity, then!
+Remember Le Bon's experiments, Sir Henry?"
+
+But Miss Clarke was sorely mystified by this simple matter, and
+herself repeated the experiments. Equally puzzled was Mme. Le
+Fabre. According to her theory, a spirit wouldn't mind a little
+thing like a metal box. Of them all, Dr. Malloy was the least
+disturbed; so decidedly so that General Hume eyed him quizzically.
+
+"Fine bunch of hallucinations, doctor."
+
+"Almost commonplace," retorted Malloy.
+
+Presently I mentioned that the Rhamda had come from the basement
+on the night that Ariadne had materialised; and I showed that the
+only possible route into the cellar was through the locked door in
+the breakfast room, since the windows were all too small, and
+there was no other door. Query: How had the Rhamda got there?
+Immediately they all became alert. As Herold said:
+
+"One thing or the other is true; either there is something
+downstairs which has escaped you, Fenton, or else Avec is able to
+materialise in any place he chooses. Let's look!"
+
+We all went down except Charlotte, who went upstairs to stay with
+Ariadne. By turns, each of us held the ring. And as we unlocked
+the basement door we noted that the invisible, walking creature
+had reached there before us.
+
+Down the steps went those unseen little feet, jumping from one
+step to the next just ahead of us all the way. When within three
+or four steps of the bottom, the creature made one leap do for
+them all.
+
+I had previously run an extension cord down into the basement, and
+both compartments could now be lighted by powerful electric lamps.
+We gave the place a quick examination.
+
+"What's all this newly turned earth mean?" inquired Sir Henry,
+pointing to the result of Jerome's efforts a few months before.
+And I explained how he and Harry, on the chance the basement might
+contain some clue as to the localisation of the Blind Spot, had
+dug without result in the bluish clay.
+
+Sir Henry picked up the spade, which had never been moved from
+where Jerome had dropped it. And while I went on to tell about the
+pool of liquids, which for some unknown reason had not seeped into
+the soil since forming there, the Englishman proceeded to dig
+vigorously into the heap I had mentioned.
+
+The rest of us watched him thoughtfully. We remembered that
+Jerome's digging had been done after Queen's disappearance. And
+the dog had vanished in the rear room, the one in which Chick and
+Dr. Holcomb had last been seen. Now, when Jerome had dug the clay
+from the basement under this, the dining-room, he had thrown it
+through the once concealed opening in the partition; had thrown
+the clay, that is, in a small heap under the library. And--after
+Jerome had done this the phenomena had occurred in the library,
+not in the dining-room.
+
+"By Jove!" ejaculated General Hume, as I pointed this out. "This
+may be something more, you know, that mere coincidence!"
+
+Sir Henry said nothing, but continued his spading. He paid
+attention to nothing save the heap that Jerome had formed. And
+with each spadeful he bent over and examined the clay very
+carefully.
+
+Miss Clarke and Mme. Le Fabre both remained very calm about it
+all. Each from her own viewpoint regarded the work as more or less
+a waste of time. But I noticed that they did not take their eyes
+from the spade.
+
+Sir Henry stopped to rest. "Let me," offered Herold; and went on
+as the Englishman had done, holding up each spadeful for
+inspection. And it was thus that we made a strange discovery.
+
+We all saw it at the same time. Embedded in the bluish earth was a
+small, egg-shaped piece of light-coloured stone. And protruding
+from its upper surface was a tiny, blood-red pebble, no bigger
+than a good-sized shot.
+
+Herold thrust the point of his spade under the stone, to lift it
+up. Whereupon he gave a queer exclamation.
+
+"Well, that's funny!" holding the stone up in front of us. "That
+little thing's as heavy as--as--it's HEAVIER than lead!"
+
+Sir Henry picked the stone off the spade. Immediately the material
+crumbled in his hands, as though rotting, so that it left only the
+small, red pebble intact. Sir Henry weighed this thoughtfully in
+his palm, then without a word handed it around.
+
+We all wondered at the pebble. It was most astonishingly heavy. As
+I say, it was no bigger than a fair-sized shot, yet it was vastly
+heavier.
+
+Afterward we weighed it, upstairs, and found that the trifle
+weighed over half a pound. Considering its very small bulk, this
+worked out to be a specific gravity of 192.6 or almost ten times
+as heavy as the same bulk of pure gold. And gold is heavy.
+
+Inevitably we saw that there must be some connection between this
+unprecedentedly heavy speck of material and that lighter-than-air
+gem of mystery. For the time being we were careful to keep the two
+apart. As for the unexplained footsteps, they were still slightly
+audible, as the invisible creatures moved around the cellar.
+
+At last we turned to go. I let the others lead the way. Thus I was
+the last to approach the steps; and it was at that moment that I
+felt something brush against my foot.
+
+I stooped down. My hands collided with the thing that had touched
+me. And I found myself clutching--
+
+Something invisible--something which, in that brilliant light,
+showed absolutely nothing to my eyes. But my hands told me I was
+grasping a very real thing, as real as my fingers themselves.
+
+I made some sort of incoherent exclamation. The others turned and
+peered at me.
+
+"What is it?" came Herold's excited voice.
+
+"I don't know!" I gasped. "Come here."
+
+But Sir Henry was the first to reach me. Next instant he, too, was
+fingering the tiny, unseen object. And such was his iron nerve and
+superior self-control, he identified it almost at once.
+
+"By the lord!"--softly. "Why, it's a small bird! Come here."
+
+Another second and they were all there. I was glad enough of it;
+for, like a flash, with an unexpectedness that startles me even
+now as I think of it--
+
+The thing became visible. Right in my grasp, a little fluttering
+bird came to life.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+SOLVED
+
+
+It was a tiny thing, and most amazingly beautiful. It could not
+have stood as high as a canary; and had its feathers been made of
+gleaming silver they could not have been lovelier. And its black-
+plumed head, and long, blossom-like tail, were such as no man on
+earth ever set eyes on.
+
+Like a flash it was gone. Not more than a half a second was this
+enchanting apparition visible to us. Before we could discern any
+more than I have mentioned, it not only vanished but it ceased to
+make any sounds whatever. And each of us drew a long breath, as
+one might after being given a glimpse of an angel.
+
+Right now, five or six hours after the events I have just
+described, it is very easy for me to smile at my emotions of the
+time. How startled and mystified I was! And--why not confess it?--
+just a trifle afraid. Why? Because I didn't understand! Merely
+that.
+
+At this moment I sit in my laboratory upstairs in that house,
+rejoicing in having reached the end of the mystery. For the enigma
+of the Blind Spot is no more. I have solved it!
+
+Now twenty feet away, in another room, lies Ariadne. Already there
+is a faint trace of colour in her cheeks, and her heart is beating
+more strongly. Another hour, says Dr. Higgins, and she will be
+restored to us!
+
+The time is seven p.m. I didn't sleep at all last night; I haven't
+slept since. For the past five hours we have been working steadily
+on the mystery, ever since our finding that little, red pebble in
+the basement. The last three hours of the time I have been
+treating Ariadne, using means which our discoveries indicated. And
+in order to keep awake I have been dictating this account to a
+stenographer.
+
+This young lady, a Miss Dibble, is downstairs, where her
+typewriter will not bother. Yes, put that down, too, Miss Dibble;
+I want people to know everything! She has a telephone clamped to
+her ears, and I am talking into a microphone which is fixed to a
+stand on my desk.
+
+On that desk are four switches. All are of the four-way two-pole
+type; and from them run several wires, some going to one end of
+the room, where they are attached to the Holcomb gem. Others,
+running to the opposite end, making contact with the tiny heavy
+stone we found in the basement. Other wires run from the switches
+to lead bands around my wrists. Also, between switches are several
+connections--one circuit containing an amplifying apparatus. By
+throwing these switches in various combinations, I can secure any
+given alteration of forces, and direct them where I choose.
+
+For there are two other wires. These run from my own lead
+bracelets to another room; a pair clamped around the wrists of
+Ariadne.
+
+For I, Hobart Fenton, am now a living, human transforming station.
+I am converting the power of the Infinite into the Energy of Life.
+And I am transmitting that power directly out of the ether, as
+conduced through these two marvellous stones, back into the
+nervous system of the girl I love. Another hour, and she will
+Exist!
+
+It was all so very simple, now that I understand it. And yet--
+well, an absolutely new thing is always very hard to put into
+words.
+
+To begin with, I must acknowledge the enormous help which I have
+had from my friends: Miss Clarke, Mme. Le Fabre, General Hume, Dr.
+Malloy, and Herold. These people are still in the house with me; I
+think they are eating supper. I've already had mine. Really, I
+can't take much credit to myself for what I have found out. The
+others supplied most of the facts. I merely happened to fit them
+together; and, because of my relationship to the problem, am now
+doing the heroic end of the work.
+
+As for Harry--he and Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson and even the dog--I
+shall have them out of the Blind Spot inside of twelve hours. All
+I need is a little rest. I'll go straight to bed as soon as I
+finish reviving Ariadne; and when I wake up, we'll see who's who,
+friend Rhamda!
+
+I'm too exuberant to hold myself down to the job of telling what
+I've discovered. But it's got to be done. Here goes!
+
+I practically took my life in my hands when I first made
+connection. However, I observed the precaution of rigging up a
+primary connection direct from the ring to the pebble, running the
+wire along the floor some distance away from where I sat. No ill
+effects when I ventured into the line of force; so I began to
+experiment with the switches.
+
+That precautionary circuit was Herold's idea. His, also, the
+amplifying apparatus. The mental attitude was Miss Clarke's,
+modified by Dr. Malloy. The lead bracelets were Mme. Le Fabre's
+suggestion; they work fine. Sir Henry was the one who pointed out
+the advantage of the microphone I am using. If my hands become
+paralysed I can easily call for help to my side.
+
+Well, the first connection I tried resulted in nothing. Perfectly
+blank. Then I tried another and another, meanwhile continually
+adjusting the amplifier; and as a result I am now able, at will,
+to do either or all of the following:
+
+(1) I can induct sounds from the Blind Spot; (2) I can induct
+light, or visibility; or (3) any given object or person, in toto.
+
+And now to tell how. No, I'm just sleepy, not weak.
+
+Let's see; where was I? Oh, yes; those connections. They've got to
+be done just right, with the proper tension in the coils, and the
+correct mental attitude, to harmonise. I wish I wasn't so tired!
+
+One moment! No, no; I'm all right. I--Queer! By Jove, that's a
+funny thing just now! I must have got an inducted current from
+another wire, mixed with these! And--I got a glimpse into the
+Blind Spot!
+
+A great--No; it's a--What a terrific crowd! Wonder what they're
+all--By Jove, it's--Good Lord, it's he! And Chick! No, I'm not
+wandering! I'm having the experience of my life!
+
+Now--THAT'S the boy! Don't let 'em bluff you! Good! Good! Tell 'em
+where to head in! That's the boy! Rub it in! I don't know what
+you're up to, but I'm with you!
+
+Er--there's a big crowd of ugly looking chaps there, and I can't
+make it out--Just a moment--a moment. What does it mean, anyway?
+Just--I--
+
+DANGER, by Heaven! THAT'S what it means!
+
+No; I'm all right. The--thing came to an end, abruptly. That's
+all; everything normal again; the room just the same as it was a
+moment ago. Hello! I seem to have started something! The wire down
+on the floor has commenced to hum! Oh, I've got my eye on it, and
+if anything--
+
+Miss Dibble! Tell Herold to come! On the run! Quick! Did you?
+Good! don't stop writing! I--
+
+There's Chick! CHICK! How did you get here? What? YOU CAN'T SEE
+ME! Why--
+
+Chick! Listen! Listen, man! I've gone into the Blind Spot! Write
+this down! The connection--
+
+That's Herold! Herold, this is Chick Watson! Listen, now, you two!
+The--the--I can hardly--it's from No. 4 to--to--to the ring--then--coil--
+
+Both switches, Chick! Ah! I've--
+
+NOTE BY MISS L. DIBBLE.--Just as Mr. Fenton made the concluding
+remark as above, there came a loud crash, followed by the voice of
+Mr. Herold. Then, there came a very loud clang from a bell; just
+one stroke. After which I caught Mr. Fenton's voice:
+
+"Herold--Chick can tell you what IT wants us to do--"
+
+And with that, his voice trailed off into nothing, and died away.
+As for Mr. Fenton himself, I am informed that he has utterly
+disappeared; and in his stead there now exists a man who is known
+to Dr. Hansen as Chick Watson.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+THE MAN FROM SPACE
+
+
+Before starting the conclusion of the Blind Spot mystery it may be
+just as well for the two publicists who are bringing it to the
+press to follow Hobart Fenton's example and go into a bit of
+explanation.
+
+The two men who wrote the first two parts were participants, and
+necessarily writing almost in the present tense. While they could
+give an accurate and vivid account of their feelings and
+experiences, they could only guess at what lay in the future, at
+the events that would unravel it all.
+
+But the present writers have the advantage of working, of seeing,
+of weighing in the retrospect. They know just where they are
+going.
+
+The coming of Chick Watson brought new perspective. Hitherto we
+had been looking into the darkness. Whatever had been caught in
+the focus of the Spot had become lost to our five senses.
+
+Yet, facts are facts. It was no mere trickery that had caught Dr.
+Holcomb in the beginning. One by one, men of the highest standards
+and character had been either victims or witness to its reality
+and power.
+
+So the coming of Watson may well be set down as one of the
+deciding moments of history. He who had been the victim a year
+before was returning through the very Spot that had engulfed him.
+He was the herald of the great unknown, an ambassador of the
+infinite itself.
+
+It will be remembered that of all the inmates of the house, Dr.
+Hansen was the only one who had a personal acquaintance with
+Watson. One year before the doctor had seen him a shadow--wasted,
+worn, exhausted. He had talked with him on that memorable night in
+the cafe. Well he remembered the incident, and the subject of that
+strange conversation--the secret of life that had been discovered
+by the missing Dr. Holcomb. And Dr. Hansen had pondered it often
+since.
+
+What was the force that was pulsing through the Blind Spot? It had
+reached out on the earth, and had plucked up youth as well as
+wisdom. THIS was the first time it had ever given up that which it
+had taken!
+
+It was Watson, sure enough; but it was not the man he had known
+one year before. Except for the basic features Hansen would not
+have recognized him; the shadow was gone, the pallor, the touch of
+death. He was hale and radiant; his skin had the pink glow of
+alert fitness; except for being dazed, he appeared perfectly
+natural. In the tense moment of his arrival the little group
+waited in silence. What had he to tell them?
+
+But he did not see them at first. He groped about blindly, moving
+slowly and holding his hands before him. His face was calm and
+settled; its lines told decision. There was not a question in any
+mind present but that the man had come for a purpose.
+
+Why could he not see? Perhaps the light was too dim. Some one
+thought to turn on the extra lights.
+
+It brought the first word from Watson. He threw up both arms
+before his face; like one shutting out the lightning.
+
+"Don't!" he begged. "Don't! Shut off the lights; you will blind
+me! Please; please! Darken the room!"
+
+Sir Henry sprang to the switch. Instantly the place went to
+shadow; there was just enough light from the moon to distinguish
+the several forms grouped in the middle of the room. Dr. Hansen
+proffered a chair.
+
+"Thank you! Ah! Dr. Hansen! You are here--I had thought--This is
+much better! I can see fairly well now. You came very near to
+blinding me permanently! You didn't know. It's the transition."
+Then: "And yet--of course! It's the moon! THE MOON!"
+
+He stopped. There was a strange wistfulness in the last word. And
+suddenly he rose to his feet. He turned in gladness, as though to
+drink in the mellow flow of the radiance.
+
+"The moon! Gentlemen--doctor--who are these people? This is the
+house of the Blind Spot! And it is the moon--the good old earth!
+And San Francisco!"
+
+He stopped again. There was a bit of indecision and of wonder
+mixed with his gladness. The stillness was only broken by the
+scarcely audible voice of Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+"Now we KNOW! It is proven. The sceptics have always asked why the
+spirits work only in the half light. We know now."
+
+Watson looked to Dr. Hansen. "Who is this lady? Who are these
+others?"
+
+"Can you see them?"
+
+"Perfectly. It is the lady in the corner; she thinks--"
+
+"That you are a spirit!"
+
+Watson laughed. "I a spirit? Try me and see!"
+
+"Certainly," asserted Mme. Le Fabre. "You are out of the Blind
+Spot. I know; it will prove everything!"
+
+"Ah, yes; the Spot." Watson hesitated. Again the indecision. There
+was something latent that he could not recall; though conscious,
+part of his mind was still in the apparent fog that lingers back
+into slumber.
+
+"I don't understand," he spoke. "Who are you?"
+
+It was Sir Henry this time. "Mr. Watson, we are a sort of
+committee. This is the house at 288 Chatterton Place. We are after
+the great secret that was discovered by Dr. Holcomb. We were
+summoned by Hobart Fenton."
+
+Consciousness is an enigma. Hitherto Watson had been almost inert;
+his actions and manner of speech had been mechanical. That it was
+the natural result of the strange force that had thrown him out,
+no one doubted. The mention of Hobart Fenton jerked him into the
+full vigour of wide-awake thinking; he straightened himself.
+
+"Hobart! Hobart Fenton! Where is he?"
+
+"That we do not know," answered Sir Henry. "He was here a moment
+ago. It is almost too impossible for belief. Perhaps you can tell
+us."
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"Exactly. Into the Blind Spot. One and the other; your coming was
+coincident with his going!"
+
+Chick raised up. Even in that faint light they could appreciate
+the full vigour of his splendid form. He was even more of an
+athlete than in his college days, before the Blind Spot took him.
+And when he realised what Sir Henry had said he held up one
+magnificent arm, almost in the manner of benediction:
+
+"Hobart has gone through? Thank Heaven for that!"
+
+It was a puzzle. True, in that little group there was represented
+the accumulated wisdom of human effort. With the possible
+exception of the general, there was not a sceptic among them. They
+were ready to explain almost anything--but this.
+
+In the natural weakness of futility they had come to associate the
+aspect of death or terror with the Blind Spot. Yet, here was
+Watson! Watson, alive and strong; he was the reverse of what they
+had subconsciously expected.
+
+"What is this Blind Spot?" inquired Sir Henry evenly. "And what do
+you mean by giving thanks that Fenton has gone into it?"
+
+"Not now. Not one word of explanation until--What time is it?"
+Watson broke off to demand.
+
+They told him. He began to talk rapidly, with amazing force and
+decision, and in a manner whose sincerity left no chance for
+doubt.
+
+"Then we have five hours! Not one second to lose. Do what I say,
+and answer my questions!" Then: "We must not fail; one slip, and
+the whole world will be engulfed--in the unknown! Turn on the
+lights."
+
+There was that in the personality and the vehemence of the man
+that precluded opposition. Out of the Blind Spot had come a
+dynamic quality, along with the man; a quickening influence that
+made Watson swift, sure, and positive. Somehow they knew it was a
+moment of Destiny.
+
+Watson went on:
+
+"First, did Hobart Fenton open the Spot? Or was it a period? By
+'period' I mean, did it open by chance, as it did when it caught
+Harry and me? Just what did Hobart do? Tell me!"
+
+It was a singular question. How could they answer it? However, Dr.
+Malloy related as much as he knew of what Hobart had done; his
+wires and apparatus were now merely a tangled mass of fused
+metals. Nothing remained intact but the blue gem and the red
+pebble.
+
+"I see. And this pebble: you found it by digging in the cellar, I
+suppose."
+
+How did he know that? Dr. Hansen brought that curiously heavy
+little stone and laid it in Watson's hand. The newcomer touched it
+with his finger, and for a brief moment he studied it. Then he
+looked up.
+
+"It's the small one," he stated. "And you found it in the cellar.
+It was very fortunate; the opening of the Spot was perhaps a
+little more than half chance. But it was wonderfully lucky. It let
+me out. And with the help of God and our own courage we may open
+it again, long enough to rescue Hobart, Harry, and Dr. Holcomb.
+Then--we must break the chain--we must destroy the revelation; we
+must close the Spot forever!"
+
+Small wonder that they couldn't understand what he meant. Dr.
+Hansen thought to cut in with a practical question:
+
+"My dear Chick, what's inside the Spot? We want to know!"
+
+But it was not Watson who answered. It was Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+"Spirits, of course."
+
+Watson gave a sudden laugh. This time he answered:
+
+"My dear lady, if you know what I know, and what Dr. Holcomb has
+discovered, you would ask YOURSELF a question or so. Possibly you
+yourself are a spirit!"
+
+"What!" she gasped. "I--a spirit!"
+
+"Exactly. But there is no time for questions. Afterwards--not now.
+Five hours, and we must--"
+
+Someone came to the door. It was Jerome. At the sight of Watson he
+stopped, clutching the stub of his cigar between his teeth. His
+grey eyes took in the other's form from head to shoe leather.
+
+"Back?" he inquired. "What did you find out, Watson? They must
+have fed you well over yonder!"
+
+And Jerome pointed toward the ceiling with his thumb. It wasn't in
+his dour nature to give way to enthusiasm; this was merely his
+manner of welcome. Watson smiled.
+
+"The eats were all right, Jerome, but not all the company. You're
+just the man I want. We have little time; none to spare for talk.
+Are you in touch with Bertha Holcomb?"
+
+The detective nodded.
+
+Watson took the chair that Fenton had so strangely vacated and
+reached for paper and pencil. Once or twice he stopped to draw a
+line, but mostly he was calculating. He referred constantly to a
+paper he took from his pocket. When he was through he spread his
+palm over what he had written.
+
+"Jerome!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are no longer connected with headquarters, I presume. But--
+can you get men?"
+
+"If need be."
+
+"You will need them!" Just then Watson noticed the uniform of
+General Hume. "Jerome, can you give this officer a bodyguard?"
+
+It was both unusual and lightning-sudden. Nevertheless, there was
+something in Watson's manner that called for no challenge;
+something that would have brooked no refusal. And the general,
+although a sceptic, was acting solely from force of habit when he
+objected:
+
+"It seems to me, Watson, that you--"
+
+Those who were present are not likely to forget it. Some men are
+born, some rise, to the occasion; but Watson was both. He was
+clear-cut, dominant, inexorable. He levelled his pencil at the
+general.
+
+"It SEEMS to you! General, let me ask you: If your country's
+safety were at stake, would you hesitate to throw reinforcements
+into the breach?"
+
+"Hardly."
+
+"All right. It's settled. Take care of your red tape AFTERWARDS."
+
+He wheeled to the detective. "Jerome, this is a sketch of the
+compartments of Dr. Holcomb's safe. Not the large one in his
+house, but the small one in his laboratory. Go straight to Dwight
+Way. Give this note," indicating another paper, "to Bertha
+Holcomb. Tell her that her father is safe, and that I am out of
+the Blind Spot. Tell her you have come to open the laboratory
+safe. I've written down the combination. If it doesn't work use
+explosives; there's nothing inside which force can harm. In the
+compartment marked 'X' you will find a small particle about the
+size of a pea, wrapped in tin-foil, and locked in a small metal
+box. You will have to break the box. As for the contents, once you
+see the stone you can't mistake it; it will weigh about six
+pounds. Get it, and guard it with your life!"
+
+"All right."
+
+Jerome put Watson's instructions in his wallet, at the same time
+glancing about the room.
+
+"Where is Fenton?" he asked.
+
+It was Watson who answered. He gave us the first news that had
+ever come from the Blind Spot. He spoke with firm deliberation, as
+though in full realisation of the sensation:
+
+"Hobart Fenton has gone through the Blind Spot. Just now he is
+right here in this room."
+
+Sir Henry jumped.
+
+"In this room! Is that what you said, Watson?"
+
+The other ignored him.
+
+"Jerome, you haven't a minute to lose! You and the general; bring
+that stone back to this house at ANY cost! Hurry!"
+
+In another moment Jerome and Hume were gone. And few people, that
+day, suspected the purport of that body of silent men who crossed
+over the Bay of San Francisco. They were grim, and trusted, and
+under secret orders. They had a mission, did they but know it, as
+important as any in history. But they knew only that they were to
+guard Jerome and the general at all hazards. One peculiarly heavy
+stone, "the size of a pea"! How are we ever to calculate its
+value?
+
+As for the group remaining with Watson, not one of them ever
+dreamed that any danger might come out of the Blind Spot. Its
+manifestations had been local and mostly negative. No; the main
+incentive of their interest had been simply curiosity.
+
+But apparently Watson was above them all. He paid no further
+attention to them for a while; he bent at Fenton's desk and worked
+swiftly. At length he thrust his papers aside.
+
+"I want to see that cellar," he announced. "That is, the point
+where you found that red pebble!"
+
+Down in the basement, Sir Henry gave the details. When he came to
+mention the various liquids which Fenton had poured into the
+woodwork upstairs Watson examined the pool intently.
+
+"Quite so. They would come out here--naturally."
+
+"Naturally!"
+
+Sir Henry could not understand. His perplexity was reflected in
+the faces of Herold, the two physicians, Dr. Malloy, Miss Clarke,
+and Mme. Le Fabre--and Charlotte spoke for them all:
+
+"Can't you explain, Mr. Watson? The woodwork had nothing whatever
+to do with the cellar. There was the floor between, just as you
+see it now."
+
+"Naturally," Watson repeated. "It could be no other place! It was
+on its way to the other side, but it could go only half-way.
+Simply a matter of focus, you know. I beg pardon; you must hold
+your curiosity a little longer."
+
+He began measuring. First he located the line across the
+floorjoists overhead, where rested the partition separating the
+dining-room from the parlour. Finding the middle of this line, he
+dropped an improvised plumb-line to the ground; and from this spot
+as centre, using a string about ten feet long, he described a
+circle on the earth. Then, referring to his calculations, he
+proceeded to locate several points with small stakes pressed into
+the soil. Then he checked them off and nodded.
+
+"It's even better than the professor thought. His theory is all
+but proven. If Jerome and Hume can deliver the other stone without
+accident, we can save those now inside the Spot." Then, very
+solemnly: "But we face a heavy task. It will be another
+Thermopylae. We must hold the gate against an occult Xerxes,
+together with all his horde."
+
+"The hosts of the dead!" exclaimed Mme. Le Fabre.
+
+"No; the living! Just give me time, Madame, and you will see
+something hitherto undreamed of. As for your theory--tomorrow you
+may doubt whether you are living or dead! In other words, Dr.
+Holcomb has certainly proved the occult by material means. He has
+done it with a vengeance. In so doing he has left us in doubt as
+to ourselves; and unless he discovers the missing factor within
+the next few hours we are going to be in the anomalous position of
+knowing plenty about the next world, but nothing about ourselves."
+
+He paused. He must have known that their curiosity could not hold
+out much longer. He said:
+
+"Now, just one thing more, friends, and I can tell you everything,
+while we are waiting for Jerome and the general to return. But
+first I must see the one who preceded me out of the spot."
+
+"Ariadne!" from Charlotte, in wonder.
+
+"Ariadne!" exclaimed Watson. He was both puzzled and amazed. "Did
+you call her--Ariadne?"
+
+"She is upstairs," cut in Dr. Higgins.
+
+"I must see her!"
+
+A minute or two later they stood in the room where the girl lay.
+The coverlet was thrown back somewhat revealing the bare left arm
+and shoulder, and the delicately beautiful face upon the pillow.
+Her golden hair was spread out in riotous profusion. The other
+hand was just protruding from the coverlet, and displayed a faint
+red mark, showing where Hobart's bracelet had been fastened at the
+moment he disappeared.
+
+Charlotte stepped over and laid her hand against the girl's cheek.
+"Isn't she wonderful!" she murmured.
+
+But Dr. Higgins looked to Watson.
+
+"Do you know her?"
+
+The other nodded. He stooped over and listened to her breathing.
+His manner was that of reverence and admiration. He touched her
+hand.
+
+"I see how it must have happened. Precisely what I experienced,
+only--" Then: "You call her Ariadne?"
+
+"We had to call her something," replied Charlotte. "And the name--
+it just came, I suppose."
+
+"Perhaps. Anyhow, it was a remarkably good guess. Her true name is
+the Aradna."
+
+"THE Aradna? Who--what is she?"
+
+"Just that: the Aradna. She is one of the factors that may save
+us. And on earth we would call her queen." Then, without waiting
+for the inevitable question, Watson said:
+
+"Your professional judgment will soon come to the supreme test,
+Dr. Higgins. She is simply numbed and dazed from coming through
+the Spot." Charlotte had already described to him the girl's
+arrival. "The mystery is that she was permitted an hour of
+rationality before this came upon her. I wonder if Hobart's
+vitality had anything to do with it?"--half to himself. "As for
+the Rhamda"--he smiled--"he is merely interested in the Spot; that
+is all. He would never harm the Aradna; he had nothing whatever to
+do with her condition. We were mistaken about the man. Anyway, it
+is the Spot of Life that interests us now."
+
+"The Spot of Life," repeated Sir Henry. "Is that--"
+
+"Yes; the Blind Spot, as it is known from the other side. It
+overtops all your sciences, embraces every cult, and lies at the
+base of all truth. It is--it is everything." ^
+
+"Explain!"
+
+Watson turned to the head upon the pillow. He ventured to touch
+the cheek, with a trace of tenderness in his action and of
+wistfulness near to reverence. It was not love; it was rather as
+one might touch a fairy. In both spirit and substance she was
+truly of another world. Watson gave a soft sigh and looked up at
+the Englishman.
+
+"Yes, I can explain. Now that I know she is well, I shall tell you
+all I know from the beginning. It's certainly your turn to ask
+questions. I may not be able to tell you all that you want to
+know; but at least I know more than any other person this side of
+the Spot. Let us go down to the library."
+
+He glanced at a clock. "We have nearly five hours remaining. Our
+test will come when we open the Spot. We must not only open it,
+but we must close it at all costs."
+
+They had reached the lower hall. At the front door Watson paused
+and turned to the others.
+
+"Just a moment. We may fail tonight. In case we do, I would like
+one last look at my own world--at San Francisco."
+
+He opened the door. The rest hung back; though they could not
+understand, they could sense, vaguely, the emotion of this strange
+man of brave adventure. The scene, the setting, the beauty, were
+all akin to the moment. Watson, stood bareheaded, looking down at
+the blinking lights of the city of the Argonauts. The moon in a
+starlit sky was drifting through a ragged lace of cloud. And over
+it all was a momentary hush, as though the man's emotion had
+called for it.
+
+No one spoke. At last Watson closed the door. And there was just
+the trace of tears in his eyes as he spoke:
+
+"Now my friends--" And led the way into the parlour.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+THE OCCULT WORLD
+
+
+"In telling what I know," began Watson, "I shall use a bit of a
+preface. It's necessary, in a way, if you are to understand me;
+besides, it will give you the advantage of looking into the Blind
+Spot with the clear eyes of reason. I intend to tell all, to omit
+nothing. My purpose in doing this is that, in case we should fail
+tonight, you will be able to give my account to the world."
+
+It was a strange introduction. His listeners exchanged thoughtful
+glances. But they all affirmed, and Sir Henry hitched his chair
+almost impatiently.
+
+"All right, Mr. Watson. Please proceed."
+
+"To begin with," said Watson, "I assume that you all know of Dr.
+Holcomb's announcement concerning the Blind Spot. You remember
+that he promised to solve the occult; how he foretold that he
+would prove it not by immaterial but by the very material means;
+that he would produce the fact and the substance.
+
+"Now, the professor had promised to deliver something far greater
+than he had thought it to be. At the same time, what he knew of
+the Blind Spot was part conjecture and part fact. Like his
+forebears and contemporaries, he looked upon man as the real
+being.
+
+"But it's a question, now, as to which is reality and which is
+not. There is not a branch of philosophy that looks upon the
+question in that light. Bishop Berkeley came near and he has been
+followed by others; but they all have been deceived by their own
+sophistry. However, except for the grossest materialists, all
+thinkers take cognizance of a hereafter.
+
+"No one dreamed of a Blind Spot and what it may lead to, what it
+might contain. We are five-sensed; we interpret the universe by
+the measure of five yardsticks. Yet, the Blind Spot takes even
+those away; the more we know, it seems, the less certain we are of
+ourselves. As I said to Mme. Le Fabre, it is a difficult question
+to determine, after all, just who are the ghosts. At any rate, I
+KNOW"--and he paused for effect--"I know that there are uncounted
+millions who look upon us and our workings as entirely
+supernatural!
+
+"Remember that what I have to tell you is just as real as your own
+lives have been since babyhood.
+
+"It was slightly over a year ago that my last night on the earth
+arrived.
+
+"I had gone out for the evening, in the forlorn hope of meeting a
+friend, of having some slight taste of pleasure before the end
+came.
+
+"For several days I had been labouring under a sort of
+premonition, knowing that my life was slowly seeping away and that
+my vitality was slipping, bit by bit, to what I thought must be
+death. Had I then known what I know now, I could have saved
+myself. But if I had done it, if I had saved myself, we would
+never have found Dr. Holcomb.
+
+"Perhaps it was the same fate that led me to Harry, that night. I
+don't know. Nevertheless, if there is any truth in what I have
+learned on the other side of the Blind Spot, it would seem that
+there is something higher than mere fate. I had never believed in
+luck; but when everything works out to a fraction of a breath, one
+ceases to be sceptical on the question of destiny and chance. _I_
+say, everything that happened that night was FORCED from the other
+side. In short, my giving that ring to Harry was simply a link in
+the chain of circumstances. It just had to be; the PROPHECY would
+not have had it otherwise."
+
+Without stopping to explain what he meant by the word "prophecy,"
+Watson went on:
+
+"That's what makes it puzzling. I have never been able to
+understand how every bit has dovetailed with such exactness. We--
+you and I--are certainly not supernatural; and yet, on the other
+side of the Spot, the proof is overwhelmingly convincing.
+
+"I was very weak that night. So weak that it is difficult for me
+to remember. The last I recollect was my going to the back of the
+house; to the kitchen, I think. I had a light in my hands. The
+boys were in the front room, waiting. One of them had opened a
+door some yards away from where I stood.
+
+"Coming as it did, on the instant, it is difficult to describe.
+But I knew it instinctively for what it was: the dot of blue on
+the ceiling, and the string of light. Then, a sensation of
+falling, like dropping into space itself. It is hard to describe
+the horrifying terror of plunging head on from an immense height
+to a plain at a vastly lower level.
+
+"And that's all that I remember--from this side." [Footnote:
+NOTE.--In justice to Mr. Watson, the present writers have thought
+it best at this stage to transpose the story from the first to the
+third person. Any narrative, unless it is negative in its
+material, is hard to give in the first person; for where the
+narrator has played an active, positive part, he must either curb
+himself or fall under the slur of braggadocio. Yet, the world
+wants the details exactly as they happened; hence the
+transposition. EDITORS.]
+
+Watson opened his eyes.
+
+The first thing was light and a sense of great pain. There was a
+pressure at the back of the eyeballs, a poignant sensation not
+unlike a knife-thrust; that, and a sudden fear of madness, of
+drivelling helplessness.
+
+The abrupt return of consciousness in such a condition is not easy
+to imagine. After all he had gone through, this strange sequel
+must have been terribly puzzling to him. He was a man of good
+education, well versed in psychology; in the first rush of
+consciousness he tried, as best he could, to weigh himself up in
+the balance of aberration. And it was this very fact that gave him
+his reassurance; for it told him that he could think, could
+reason, could count on a mind in full function.
+
+But he could not see. The pain in his eyeballs was blinding. There
+was nothing he could distinguish; everything was woven together, a
+mere blaze of wonderful, iridescent, blazing coloration.
+
+But if he could not see, he could feel. The pain was excruciating.
+He closed his eyes and fell to thinking, curiously enough, that
+the experience was similar to what he had gone through when upon
+learning to swim, he had first opened his eyes under the water. It
+had been under a blazing sun. The pain and the colour--it was much
+the same, only intensified.
+
+Then he knew that he was very tired. The mere effort of that one
+thought had cost him vitality. He dropped back into
+unconsciousness, such as was more insensibility than slumber. He
+had strange dreams, of people walking, of women, and of many
+voices. It was blurred and indistinct, yet somehow not unreal.
+Then, after an unguessable length of time--he awoke.
+
+He was much stronger. The lapse may have been very long; he could
+not know. But the pain in his eyes was gone; and he ventured to
+open the lids again in the face of the light that had been so
+baffling. This time he could see; not distinctly, but still enough
+to assure him of reality. By closing his eyes at intervals he was
+able to rest them and to accustom them gradually to the new degree
+of light. And after a bit he could see plainly.
+
+He was on a cot, and in a room almost totally different from any
+that he had ever seen before. The colour of the walls, even, was
+dissimilar; likewise the ceiling. It was white, in a way, and yet
+unlike it; neither did it resemble any of the various tints; to
+give it a name that he afterward learned--alna--implies but
+little. It was utterly new to him.
+
+Apparently he was alone. The room was not large; about the size of
+an ordinary bedroom. And after the first novelty of the
+unplaceable colour had worn off he began to take stock of his own
+person.
+
+First, he was covered by the finest of bed clothing, thick but
+exceedingly light. There was no counterpane, but two blankets and
+two sheets; and none of them corresponded to any colour or
+material he had ever known. He only knew that their tints were
+light rather than dark.
+
+Next, he moved his hands out from under the coverings, and held
+them up before his eyes. He was immensely puzzled. He naturally
+expected to see the worn, emaciated hands which had been his on
+that dramatic night; but the ones before him were plump, normal,
+of a healthy pink. The wrists likewise were in perfect condition,
+also his arms. He could not account for this sudden return to
+health, of the vigour he had known before he began to wear the
+ring. He lay back pondering.
+
+Presently he fell to examining his clothes. There were two
+garments made of a silk-like textile, rather heavy as to weight,
+but exceedingly soft as to touch. They were slightly darker than
+the bed clothing. In a way they were much like pyjamas, except
+that both were designed to be merely slipped into place, without
+buttons or draw-strings. That is, they were tailored to fit snugly
+over the shoulders and waist, while loose enough elsewhere.
+
+Then he noticed the walls of the room. They were after a simple,
+symmetrical style; coved--to use an architectural expression--or
+curved, where the corner would come with a radius much larger than
+common, amounting to four or five feet; so that a person of
+ordinary height could not stand close to the wall without
+stooping. Where the coved portion flowed into the perpendicular of
+the wall there was a broad moulding, like a plate rail, which
+acted as a support for the hanging pictures.
+
+Watson counted four of these pictures. Instinctively he felt that
+they might give him a valuable clue as to his whereabouts. For,
+while his mind had cleared enough for him to feel sure that he had
+truly come through the Spot, he knew nothing more. Where was he?
+What would the pictures tell?
+
+The first was directly before his eyes. In size perhaps two by
+three feet, with its greater length horizontal, it was more of a
+landscape than a portrait. And Watson's eagerness for the subject
+itself made him forget to note whether the work was mechanically
+or manually executed.
+
+For it revealed a girl--about ten or twelve--very slightly draped,
+enjoying a wild romp with a most extraordinary creature. It was
+this animal that made the picture amazing; there was no subtle
+significance in the scene--there was nothing remarkable about the
+technique. The whole interest, for Watson, was in the animal.
+
+It was a deer; perfect and beautiful, but cast in a Lilliputian
+mould. It stood barely a foot high, the most delicate thing he had
+ever looked upon. Mature in every detail of its proportion, the
+dainty hoofs, the fragile legs, smooth-coated body, and small,
+wide-antlered head--a miniature eight-pointer--made such a vision
+as might come to the dreams of a hunter.
+
+Chick rose up in bed, in order to examine it more closely.
+Immediately he fell back again slightly dizzy. He closed his eyes.
+
+Shortly he began examining the other pictures. Two of these were
+simple flower studies. Watson scarcely knew which puzzled him
+most; the blossoms or their containers. For the vases were like
+large-sized loving cups, broad as to body, and provided with a
+handle on either side. Their colours were unfamiliar. As for the
+blossoms--in one study the blooms were a half-dozen in number, and
+more like Shasta daisies than anything else. But their colour was
+totally unlike, while they possessed wide, striped stamens that
+gave the flowers an identity all their own. In the other vase were
+several varieties, and every one absolutely unrecognisable.
+
+On the opposite side of the room was something fairly familiar. At
+first glance it seemed a simple basket of kittens, done in black
+and white--something like crayon, and yet resembling sepia.
+Alongside the basket, however, was a spoon, one end resting on the
+edge of a saucer. And it was the size of the spoon that commanded
+Chick's attention; rather, the size of the kittens, any one of
+which could have curled up comfortably in the bowl of the spoon!
+Judging relatively, if it were an ordinary tablespoon, then the
+kittens were smaller than the smallest of mice.
+
+Chick gave it up. Presently he began speculating about the time.
+He decided that, whatever the hour might be, it was still
+daylight. In one wall of the room was a large, oval window, of a
+material which may as well be called glass, frosted, so as to
+permit no view of what might lie outside. But it allowed plenty of
+light to enter.
+
+Cut in the opposite wall was a doorway, hung with a curtain
+instead of a door. This curtain was a gauzy material, but its
+maroonlike shade completely hid all view of whatever lay beyond.
+
+Chick waited and listened. Hitherto he had not heard a sound.
+There was not even that subtle, mixed hum from the distance that
+we are accustomed to associate with silence. He felt certain that
+he was inside the Blind Spot; but as to just where that locality
+might lie, he knew as little as before. He knew only that he in a
+building of some sort. Where, and what, was the building?
+
+Just then he noticed a cord dangling from the ceiling. It came
+down to within six inches of his head. He gave it a pull.
+
+Whereupon he heard a faint, musical jangling in the distance. He
+tried to analyse the sound. It was not bell-like; perhaps the word
+"tinkling" would serve better. Provisionally, Chick placed the key
+at middle D.
+
+A moment later he heard steps outside the curtain. They were very
+soft and light and deliberate; and almost at the same instant a
+delicate white hand moved the curtain aside.
+
+It was a woman. Chick lay back and wondered. Although not
+beautiful she was very good to look at, with large blue eyes of a
+deep tenderness and sympathy, even features, and a wonderful fold
+of rich brown hair held in place by a satiny net.
+
+She started when she saw Chick's wide open eyes; then smiled, a
+motherly smile and compassionate. She was dressed in a manner at
+once becoming and odd, to one unaccustomed, in a gown that draped
+the entire figure, yet left the right arm and shoulder bare. Chick
+noticed that arm especially; it was white as marble, moulded full,
+and laced with fine blue veins. He had never seen an arm like
+that. Nor such a woman. She might have been forty.
+
+She came over to the bed and placed a hand on Chick's forehead.
+Again she smiled, and nodded.
+
+"How do you feel?" she asked.
+
+Now this is a strange thing; Watson could not account for it. For,
+although she did not speak English, yet he could understand her
+quite well. At the moment it seemed perfectly obvious; afterward,
+the fact became amazing.
+
+He answered in the same way, his thoughts directing his lips. And
+he found that as long as he made no conscious attempt to select
+the words for his thought, he could speak unhesitatingly.
+
+"Where am I?"
+
+She smiled indulgently, but did not answer.
+
+"Is this the--Blind Spot?"
+
+"The Blind Spot! I do not understand."
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"Your nurse. Perhaps," soothingly, "you would like to talk to the
+Rhamda."
+
+"The Rhamda!"
+
+"Yes. The Rhamda Geos."
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+THE PLUNGE
+
+
+The woman left him. For a while Chick reflected upon what she had
+said. In full rush of returning vigour his mind was working
+clearly and with analytical exactness.
+
+For the first time he noticed a heaviness in the air, overladen,
+pregnant. He became aware of a strange, undercurrent of life; of
+an exceedingly faint, insistent sound, pulse-like and rhythmical,
+like the breathing undertones of multitudes. He was a city man,
+and accustomed to the murmuring throbs of a metropolitan heart.
+But this was very different.
+
+Presently, amid the strangeness, he could distinguish the tinkle
+of elfin bells, almost imperceptible, but musical. The whole air
+was laden with a subdued music, lined, as it were, with a golden
+vibrancy of tintinnabulary cadence--distant, subdued, hardly more
+than a whisper, yet part of the air itself.
+
+It gave him the feeling that he was in a dream. In the realms of
+the subconscious he had heard just such sounds--exotic and
+unearthly--fleeting and evanescent.
+
+The notion of dreams threw his mind into sudden alertness. In an
+instant he was thinking systematically, and in the definite
+realisation of his plight.
+
+The woman had spoken of "the Rhamda." True, she had added a
+qualifying "Geos," but that did not matter. Whether Geos or Avec,
+it was still the Rhamda. By this time Watson was convinced that
+the word indicated some sort of title--whether doctor, or lord, or
+professor, was not important. What interested Chick was identity.
+If he could solve that he could get at the crux of the Blind Spot.
+
+He thought quickly. Apparently, it was Rhamda Avec who had trapped
+Dr. Holcomb. Why? What had been the man's motive? Watson could not
+say. He only knew the ethics of the deed was shaded with the
+subtleness of villainy. That behind it all was a purpose, a
+directing force and intelligence that was inexorable and
+irresistible.
+
+One other thing he knew; the Rhamda Avec came out of the region in
+which he, Watson, now found himself. Rather, he could have come
+from nowhere else. And Watson could feel certain that somewhere,
+somehow, he would find Dr. Holcomb.
+
+In that moment Watson determined upon his future course of action.
+He decided to state nothing, intimate nothing, either by word or
+deed, that might in any manner incriminate or endanger the
+professor. It was for him to learn everything possible and to do
+all he could to gain his points, without giving a particle of
+information in return. He must play a lone hand and a cautious
+one--until he found Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The fact of his position didn't appall him. Somehow, it had just
+the opposite effect. Perhaps it was because his strength had come
+back, and had brought with it the buoyancy that is natural to
+health. He could sense the vitality that surrounded him, poised,
+potential, waiting only the proper attitude on his part to become
+an active force. Something tremendous had happened to him, to make
+him feel like that. He was ready for anything.
+
+Five minutes passed. Watson was alert and ready when the woman
+returned, together with a companion. She smiled kindly, and
+announced:
+
+"The Rhamda Geos."
+
+At first Chick was startled. There was a resemblance to Rhamda
+Avec that ran almost to counterpart. The same refinement and
+elegance, the fleeting suggestion of youth, the evident age
+mingled with the same athletic ease and grace of carriage. Only he
+was somewhat shorter. The eyes were almost identical, with the
+peculiar quality of the iris and pupil that suggested, somehow, a
+culture inherited out of the centuries. He was dressed in a black
+robe, such as would befit a scholar.
+
+He smiled, and held out a hand. Watson noted the firm clasp, and
+the cold thrill of magnetism.
+
+"You wish to speak with me?"
+
+The voice was soft and modulated, resonant, of a tone as rich as
+bronze.
+
+"Yes. Where am I--sir?"
+
+"You do not know?"
+
+It seemed to Watson that there was real astonishment in the man's
+eyes. As yet it had not come to Chick that he himself might be
+just as much a mystery as the other. The only question in his mind
+at the moment was locality.
+
+"Is this the Blind Spot?"
+
+"The Blind Spot!"--with the same lack of comprehension that the
+woman had shown. "I do not understand you."
+
+"Well, how did I get here?"
+
+"Oh, as to that, you were found in the Temple of the Leaf. You
+were lying unconscious on the floor."
+
+"A temple! How did I get there, sir? Do you know?"
+
+"We only know that a moment before there was nothing; next
+instant--you."
+
+Watson thought. There was a subconscious sound that still
+lingered in his memory; a sound full-toned, flooding, enveloping.
+Was there any connection--
+
+"'The Temple of the Leaf,' you call it, sir. I seem to remember
+having heard a bell. Is there such a thing in that temple?"
+
+The Rhamda Geos smiled, his eyes brightening. "It is sometimes
+called the Temple of the Bell."
+
+"Ah!" A pause, and Watson asked, "Where is this temple? And is
+this room a part of the building?"
+
+"No. You are in the Sar-Amenive Hospital, an institution of the
+Rhamdas."
+
+The Rhamdas! So there were several of them. A sort of society,
+perhaps.
+
+"In San Francisco?"
+
+"No. San Francisco! Again I fail to understand. This locality is
+known as the Mahovisal."
+
+"The Mahovisal!" Watson thought in silence for a moment. He noted
+the extremely keen interest of the Rhamda, the ultra-intelligent
+flicker of the eyes, the light of query and critical analysis.
+"You call this the Mahovisal, sir? What is it: town, world or
+institution?"
+
+The other smiled again. The lines about his sensitive mouth were
+susceptible of various interpretations: emotion, or condescension,
+or the satisfying feeling that comes from the simple vindication
+of some inner conviction. His whole manner was that of interest
+and respectful wonder.
+
+"You have never heard of the Mahovisal? Never?"
+
+"Not until this minute," answered Watson.
+
+"You have no knowledge of anything before? Do you know WHO YOU
+ARE?"
+
+"I"--Watson hesitated, wondering whether he had best withhold this
+information. He decided to chance the truth. "My name is Chick
+Watson. I am--an American."
+
+"An American?"
+
+The Rhamda pronounced the word with a roll of the "r" that sounded
+more like the Chinese "Mellican" than anything else. It was
+evident that the sounds were totally unfamiliar to him. And his
+manner was a bit indefinite, doubtful, yet weighted with care, as
+he slowly repeated the question:
+
+"An American? Once more I don't understand. I have never heard the
+word, my dear sir. You are neither D'Hartian nor Kospian; although
+there are some--materialists for the most part--who contend that
+you are just as any one else. That is--a man."
+
+"Perhaps I am," returned Watson, utterly confounded. He did not
+know what to say. He had never heard of a Kospian or a D'Hartian,
+nor of the Mahovisal. It made things difficult; he couldn't get
+started. Most of all, he wanted information; and, instead, he was
+being questioned. The best he could do was to equivocate.
+
+As for the Rhamda, he frowned. Apparently his eager interest had
+been dashed with disappointment. But only slightly, as Watson
+could see; the man was of such culture and intellect as to have
+perfect control over his emotions. In his balance and poise he was
+very like Avec, and he had the same pleasing manner.
+
+"My dear sir," he began, "if you are really a man, then you can
+tell me something of great importance."
+
+"I" Chick retorted, "can tell you nothing until you first let me
+know just where I stand!"
+
+Certainly there was a lack of common ground. Until one of them
+supplied it, there could be no headway. Watson realised that his
+whole future might revolve about the axis of his next words.
+
+The Rhamda thought a moment, dubiously, like one who has had a pet
+theory damaged, though not shattered. Suddenly he spoke to the
+woman.
+
+"Open the portal," said he.
+
+She stepped to the oval window, touched a latch, and swung the
+pane horizontally upon two pivots. Immediately the room was
+flooded with a strange effulgence, amber-like, soft and mellow, as
+real sunshine.
+
+But it was NOT real sunshine!
+
+The window was set in a rather thick wall, beyond which Watson
+could see a royal sapphiric sky, flecked with white and purple and
+amethyst-threaded clouds poised above a great amber sleeping sun.
+
+It was the sun that challenged attention. It was so mild, and yet
+so utterly beyond what might be expected. In diameter it would
+have made six of the one Watson had known; in the blue distance,
+touching the rim of the horizon, it looked exactly like a huge
+golden plate set edgewise on the end of the earth.
+
+And--he could look straight at it without blinking!
+
+His thoughts ran back to the first account of the Rhamda. The man
+had looked straight at the sun and had been blinded. This
+accounted for it! The man had been accustomed to this huge, soft-
+glowing beauty. An amberous sun, deep yellow, sleeping; could it
+be, after all, dreamland?
+
+But there were other things: the myriad tintinnabulations of these
+microscopic bells, never ceasing, musically throbbing; and now,
+the exotic delight of the softest of perfumes, an air barely
+tinted with violet and rose, and the breath of woodland wild
+flowers. He could not comprehend it. He looked at the purple
+clouds above the lotus sun, hardly believing, and deeply in doubt.
+
+A great white bird dived suddenly out of the heavens and flew into
+the focus of his vision. In all the tales of his boyhood, of large
+and beautiful rocs and other birds, he had come across nothing
+like this. From the perspective it must have measured a full three
+hundred feet from tip to tip; it was shaped like a swan and flew
+like an eagle, with magnificent, lazy sweeps of the wings; while
+its plumage was as white as the snow, new fallen on the mountains.
+And right behind it, in pursuit, hurtled a huge black thing, fully
+as large and just as swift; a tremendous black crow, so black that
+its sides gave off a greenish shimmer.
+
+Just then the woman closed the window. It was as well; Watson was
+only human, and he could hide his curiosity just so long and no
+longer. He turned to the Rhamda.
+
+The man nodded. "I thought so," said he with satisfaction, as one
+might who has proven a pet and previous theory.
+
+Watson tried from another angle.
+
+"Just who do you think I am, sir?"
+
+The other smiled as before. "It is not what I may think," he
+replied: "but what I know. You are the proof that was promised us
+by the great Rhamda Avec. You are--THE FACT AND THE SUBSTANCE!"
+
+He waited for Watson's answer. Stupefaction delayed it. After a
+moment the Rhamda continued:
+
+"Is it not so? Am I not right? You are surely out of the occult,
+my dear sir. You are a spirit!"
+
+It took Chick wholly by surprise. He had been ready to deal with
+anything--but this. It was unreal, weird, impossible. And yet, why
+not? The professor had set out to remove forever the screen that
+had hitherto shrouded the shadow: but what had he revealed? What
+had the Spot disclosed? Unreality or REALITY? Which is which?
+
+In the inspiration of the moment, Chick saw that he had reached
+the crossroads of the occult. There was no time to think; there
+was time only for a plunge. And, like all strong men, Watson chose
+the deeper water.
+
+He turned to the Rhamda Geos.
+
+"Yes," said he quietly. "I--am a spirit."
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+UP FOR BREATH
+
+
+Rhamda Geos, instead of showing the concern and uneasiness that
+most men would show in the presence of an avowed ghost, evinced
+nothing but a deep and reverent happiness. He took Watson's hand
+almost shyly. And while his manner was not effusive, it had the
+warmth that comes from the heart of a scholar.
+
+"As a Rhamda," he declared, "I must commend myself for being the
+first to speak to you. And I must congratulate you, my dear sir,
+on having fallen, not into the hands of Bar Senestro, but into
+those of my own kind. It is a proof of the prophecy, and a
+vindication of the wisdom of the Ten Thousand.
+
+"I bid you welcome to the Thomahlia, and I offer you my services,
+as guide and sponsor."
+
+Chick did not reply at once. The chance he had taken was one of
+those rare decisions that come to genius; the whole balance of his
+fate might swing upon his sudden impulse. Not that he had any
+compunction; but he felt that it tied him down. It restricted him.
+Certainly almost any role would be easier than that of a spirit.
+
+He didn't feel like a ghost. He wondered just how a ghost would
+act, anyhow. What was more, he could not understand such a queer
+assumption on the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a
+ghost? Watson was natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda.
+This was scarcely his idea of a phantom's life. Most certainly,
+the two of them were men, nothing else; if one was a wraith, so
+was the other. But--how to account for it?
+
+Again he thought of Rhamda Avec. The words of Geos, "The Fact and
+the Substance," had been exactly synonymous with what had been
+said of Avec by Dr. Holcomb, "The proof of the occult."
+
+Was it indeed possible that these two great ones, from opposite
+poles, had actually torn away the veil of the shadow? And was this
+the place where he, Watson, must pose as a spirit, if he were to
+be accepted as genuine?
+
+The thought was a shock. He must play the same part here that the
+Rhamda had played on the other side of the Spot; but he would have
+to do it without the guiding wisdom of Avec. Besides, there was
+something sinister in the unknown force that had engulfed so
+strong a mind as the professor's; for while Watson's fate had been
+of his own seeking, that of the doctor smacked too much of
+treachery.
+
+He turned to the Rhamda Geos with a new question:
+
+"This Rhamda Avec--was he a man like yourself?"
+
+The other brightened again, and asked in return:
+
+"Then you have seen him!"
+
+"I--I do not know," answered Watson, caught off his guard. "But
+the name is familiar. I don't remember well. My mind is vague and
+confused. I recall a world, a wonderful world it was from which
+I came, and a great many people. But I can't place myself; I 
+hardly--let me see--"
+
+The other nodded sympathetic approval.
+
+"I understand. Don't exert yourself. It is hardly to be expected
+that one forced out of the occult could come among us with his
+faculties unimpaired. We have had many communications with your
+world, and have always been frustrated by this one gulf which may
+not be crossed. When real thought gets across the border, it is
+often indefinite, sometimes mere drivel. Such answers as come from
+the void are usually disappointing, no matter how expert our
+mediums may be in communicating with the dead."
+
+"The dead! Did you say--the dead?"
+
+"Certainly; the dead. Are you not of the dead?"
+
+Watson shook his head emphatically.
+
+"Absolutely not! Not where I came from. We are all very much
+alive!"
+
+The other watched him curiously, his great eyes glowing with
+enthusiasm; the enthusiasm of the born seeker of the truth.
+
+"You don't mean," he asked, "that you have the same passions that
+we have here in life?"
+
+"I mean," said Watson, "that we hate, love, swear; we are good and
+we are evil; and we play games and go fishing."
+
+Geos rubbed his hands in a dignified sort of glee. What had been
+said coincided, apparently, with another of his pet theories.
+
+"It is splendid," he exulted, "splendid! And just in line with my
+thesis. You shall tell it before the Council of the Rhamdas. It
+will be the greatest day since the speaking of the Jarados!"
+
+Watson wondered just who this Jarados might be; but for the moment
+he went back to the previous question.
+
+"This Rhamda Avec: you were about to tell me about him. Let me
+have as much as I can understand, sir."
+
+"Ah, yes! The great Rhamda Avec. Perhaps you may recall him when
+your mind clears a little more. My dear sir, he is, or was, the
+chief of the Rhamdas of all the Thomahlia." "What is the
+'Thomahlia'?"
+
+"The Thomahlia! Why, it is called the world; our name for the
+world. It comprises, physically, land, water and air; politically,
+it embraces D'Hartia, Kospia and a few minor nations."
+
+"Who are the Rhamdas?"
+
+"They are the heads of--of the Thomahlia; not the nominal nor
+political nor religious heads--they are neither judicial,
+executive nor legislative; but the real heads, still above. They
+might be called the supreme college of wisdom, of science and of
+research. Also, they are the keepers of the bell and its temple,
+and the interpreters of the Prophecy of the Jarados."
+
+"I see. You are a sort of priesthood."
+
+"No. The priesthood is below us. The priests take what orders we
+choose to give, and are purely--"
+
+"Superstitious?"
+
+The Rhamda's eyes snapped, just a trifle.
+
+"Not at all, my dear sir! They are good, sincere men. Only, not
+being intellectually adept enough to be admitted to the real
+secrets, the real knowledge, they give to all things a provisional
+explanation based upon a settled policy. Not being Rhamdas, they
+are simply not aware that everything has an exact and absolute
+explanation."
+
+"In other words," put in Watson, "they are scientists; they have
+not lifted themselves up to the plane of inquisitive doubt."
+
+Still the Rhamda shook his head.
+
+"Not quite that, either, my dear sir. Those below us are not
+ignorant; they are merely nearer to the level of the masses than
+we are. In fact, they are the people's rulers; these priests and
+other similar classes. But we, the Rhamdas, are the rulers of the
+rulers. We differ from them in that we have no material ends to
+subserve. Being at the top, with no motive save justice and
+advancement, our judgments are never questioned, and for the same
+reason, seldom passed.
+
+"But we are far above the plane of doubt that you speak of; we
+passed out of it long ago. That is the first stage of true
+science; afterwards comes the higher levels where all things have
+a reason; ethics, inspiration, thought, emotion--"
+
+"And--the judgment of the Jarados?"
+
+Watson could not have told why he said it. It was impulse, and the
+impromptu suggestion of a half-thought. But the effect of his
+words upon the Rhamda and the nurse told him that, inadvertently,
+he had struck a keynote. Both started, especially the woman.
+Watson took note of this in particular, because of the ingrained
+acceptance of the feminine in matter of belief.
+
+"What do you know?" was her eager interruption. "You have seen the
+Jarados?"
+
+As for the Rhamda, he looked at Watson with shrewd, calculating
+eyes. But they were still filled with wonder.
+
+"Can you tell us?" he asked. "Try and think!"
+
+Chick knew that he had gained a point. He had been dealt a trump
+card; but he was too clever to play it at once. He was on his own
+responsibility and was carrying a load that required the finest
+equilibrium.
+
+"I really do not know," he said. "I--I must have time to think.
+Coming across the border that way you must give me time. You were
+telling me about the Rhamdas in general; now tell me about Avec in
+particular."
+
+Geos nodded as though he could understand the fog that beclouded
+Watson's mind.
+
+"The Rhamda Avec is, or was, the wisest of them all; the head and
+the chief, and by far the most able. Few beside his own fellows
+knew it, however; another than he was the nominal head, and
+officiated for him whenever necessary. Avec had little social
+intercourse; he was a prodigious student.
+
+"We are a body of learned men, you understand, and we stand at the
+peak of all that has been discovered through hundreds upon
+hundreds of centuries, so that at the present day we are the
+culmination of the combined effort and thought of man since the
+beginning of time. Each generation of Rhamdas must be greater than
+the one preceding. When I die and pass on to your world I must
+leave something new and worth-while to my successor; some thought,
+wisdom, or deed that may be of use to mankind. I cannot be a
+Rhamda else. We are a set of supreme priests, who serve man at the
+shrine of intelligence, not of dogma.
+
+"Of course, we are not to be judged too highly. All research, when
+it steps forward must go haltingly; there are many paths into the
+unknown that look like the real one. Hence, we have among us
+various schools of thought, and each following a different trail.
+
+"I myself am a spiritist. I believe that we can, and often have,
+communicated with your world at various times. There are others
+who do not grant it; there are Rhamdas who are inclined to lean
+more to the materialist's side of things, who rely entirely, when
+it comes to questions of this kind, upon their faith in the
+teachings of the Jarados. There are some, too, who believe in the
+value of speculation, and who contend that only through
+contemplation can man lift himself to the full fruits of
+realisation. At the head of us all--the Rhamda Avec!"
+
+"What was his belief?"
+
+"Let us say he believed ALL. He was eclectic. He held that we were
+all of us a bit right, and each of us a whole lot wrong. It was
+his contention, however, that there was not one thing that could
+not be proven; that the secret of life, while undoubtedly a secret
+in every sense of the word, is still very concrete, it could be
+proven!"
+
+Watson nodded. He remembered hearing another man make just such a
+statement--Dr. Holcomb.
+
+"For years he worked in private," went on Geos. "We never knew
+just what he was doing; until, one day, he called us together and
+delivered his lecture."
+
+"His lecture?"
+
+"Rather, his prophecy. For it was all that. Not that he spoke at
+great length; it was but a talk. He announced that he believed the
+time had come to prove the occult. That it could be done, and done
+only through concrete, material means; and that whatever existed,
+certainly could be demonstrated. He was going to pull aside the
+curtain that had hitherto cut off the shadow.
+
+"'I am going to prove the occult,' he said. 'In three days I shall
+return with the fact and the substance. And then I propose to
+deliver my greatest lecture, my final thesis, in which my whole
+life shall come to a focus. I shall bring the proof for your eyes
+and ears, for your fingers to explore and be satisfied. You shall
+behold the living truth"
+
+"'And the subject of my lecture--the subject of my lecture will be
+The Spot of Life.'"
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+THROUGH UNKNOWN WATERS
+
+
+The SPOT of Life! And the subject of Dr. Holcomb's lecture,
+promised but never delivered, had been announced as--The Blind
+SPOT!
+
+To Watson it was fairly astounding to discover that the two--
+Holcomb and Avec--had reached simultaneously for the curtain of
+the shadow. The professor had said that it would be "the greatest
+day since Columbus." And so it had proven, did the world but know
+it.
+
+"And--the Rhamda Avec never returned?" asked Chick.
+
+"No."
+
+"But he sent back something within three days?" Watson was
+thinking, of course, of the doctor who had disappeared on the day
+which, Jerome overheard the Rhamda to say, was the last of his
+stay.
+
+But Geos did not reply. Why, Chick could not guess. He thought it
+best not to press the question; in good time, if he went at it
+carefully, he could gain his end with safety. At the moment he
+must not arouse suspicion. He chose another query.
+
+"Did Avec go alone?"
+
+"No. The Nervina went with him. Rather, she followed within a few
+hours."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+It was out before Watson could think. The Rhamda looked up
+suddenly.
+
+"Then you have seen the Nervina! You know her?"
+
+Chick lied. It was not his intention, just at present, to tie
+himself down to anything that might prove compromising or
+restraining.
+
+"The name is--familiar. Who is this Nervina?"
+
+"She is one of the queens. I thought--My dear sir, she is one of
+the queens of Thomahlia, half Kospian, half D'Hartian; of the
+first royal line running through from the day of the Jarados."
+
+Chick cogitated for a moment. Then, taking an entirely new tack:
+
+"You say the Rhamda and this Nervina, independently, solved the
+mystery of the Spot of Life, I believe you call it. And that Spot
+leads, apparently, into the occult?"
+
+"Apparently, if not positively. It was the wisdom of Avec, mostly.
+He had been in communication with your world by means of his own
+discovery and application. It was all in line with the prophecy.
+
+"Since he and the Nervina left, the people of the world have been
+in a state of ferment. For it was foretold that in the last days
+we would get in communication with the other side; that some would
+come and some would go. For example, your own coming was foretold
+by the Jarados, almost to the hour and minute."
+
+"Then it was fortuitous," spoke Watson. "It was NOT the wisdom and
+science of Avec, in my case."
+
+"Quite so. However, it is proof that the Rhamdas have fulfilled
+their duty. We knew of the Spot of Life, all the while; it was to
+be closed until we, through the effort of our intellect and
+virtues, could lift ourselves up to the plane of the world beyond
+us--your world. It could not be opened by ourselves alone,
+however. The Rhamda Avec had first to get in touch with your side,
+before he could apply the laws he had discovered."
+
+Somehow, Chick admired this Rhamda. Men of his type could form but
+one kind of priesthood: exalted, and devoted to the advance of
+intelligence. If Rhamda Avec were of the same sort, then he was a
+man to be looked up to, not to hate. As for the Jarados--Watson
+could not make out who he had been; a prophet or teacher,
+seemingly, looming out of the past and reverenced from antiquity.
+
+The Blind Spot became a shade less sinister. Already Watson had
+the Temple of the Leaf, or Bell, the Rhamdas and their philosophy,
+the great amber sun, the huge birds, the musical cadence of the
+perfumed air, and the counter-announcement of Rhamda Avec to weigh
+against the work and words of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The world of the Blind Spot!
+
+As if in reaction from the unaccustomed train of thought, Watson
+suddenly became conscious of extreme hunger. He gave an uneasy
+glance round, a glance which the Rhamda Geos smilingly
+interpreted. At a word the woman left the room and returned with a
+crimson garment, like a bath-robe. When Chick had donned it and a
+pair of silken slippers, Geos bade him follow.
+
+They stepped out into the corridor.
+
+This was formed and coloured much as the room they had quitted;
+and it led to another apartment, much larger--about fifty feet
+across--coloured a deep, cool green. Its ceiling, coved like the
+other, seemed made of some self-radiating substance from which
+came both light and heat. Four or five tables, looking like ebony
+work, were arranged along the side walls. When they were seated at
+one of these, the Rhamda placed his fingers on some round alna-
+white buttons ranged along the edge of the table.
+
+"In your world," he apologised, "our clumsy service would
+doubtless amuse you; but it is the best we have been able to
+devise so far."
+
+He pressed the button. Instantly, without the slightest sound or
+anything else to betray just how the thing had been accomplished,
+the table was covered with golden dishes, heaped with food, and
+two flagon-like goblets, full to the brim with a dark, greenish
+liquid that gave off an aroma almost exhilarating; not alcoholic,
+but something just above that. The Rhamda, disregarding or not
+noticing Watson's gasp of wonder, lifted his goblet in the manner
+of the host in health and welcome.
+
+"You may drink it," he offered, "without fear. It is not liquor--
+if I may use a word which I believe to be current in your world. I
+may add that it is one of the best things that we shall be able to
+offer you while you are with us."
+
+Indeed it wasn't liquor. Watson took a sip; and he made a mental
+note that if all things in the Thomahlia were on a par with this,
+then he certainly was in a world far above his own. For the one
+sip was enough to send a thrill through his veins, a thrill not
+unlike the ecstasy of supreme music--a sparkling exuberance,
+leaving the mind clear and scintillating, glorified to the quick
+thinking of genius.
+
+Later Watson experienced no reaction such as would have come from
+drinking alcohol or any other drug.
+
+It was the strangest meal ever eaten by Watson. The food was very
+savoury, and perfectly cooked and served. Only one dish reminded
+him of meat.
+
+"You have meats?" he asked. "This looks like flesh."
+
+Geos shook his head. "No. Do you have flesh to eat, on the other
+side? We make all our food."
+
+MAKE food. Watson thought best simply to answer the question:
+
+"As I remember it, Rhamda Geos, we had a sort of meat called 
+beef--the flesh of certain animals."
+
+The Rhamda was intensely interested. "Are they large? Some
+interpret the Jarados to that effect. Tell me, are they like
+this?" And he pulled a silver whistle from his pocket and, placing
+it to his lips, blew two short, shrill notes.
+
+Immediately a peculiar patter sounded down the corridor; a ka-
+tuck, ka-tuck, ka-tuck, not unlike galloping hoof-beats. Before
+Watson could do any surmising a little bundle of shining black,
+rounded the entrance to the room and ran up to them. Geos picked
+it up.
+
+It was a horse. A horse, beautifully formed, perfect as an Arab,
+and not more than nine inches high!
+
+Now, Chick had been in the Blind Spot, conscious, but a short
+while. He knew that he was in the precise position that Rhamda
+Avec had occupied that morning on the ferry-boat. Chick recalled
+the pictures of the Lilliputian deer and the miniature kittens;
+yet he was immensely surprised.
+
+The little fellow began to neigh, a tiny, ridiculous sound as
+compared with the blast of a normal-sized horse, and began to paw
+for the edge of the table.
+
+"What does he want?"
+
+"A drink. They will do anything for it." Geos pressed a button,
+and in a moment he had another goblet. This he held before the
+little stallion, who thrust his head in above his nostrils and
+drank as greedily as a Percheron weighing a ton. Watson stroked
+his sides; the mane was like spun silk, he felt the legs
+symmetrical, perfectly shaped, not as large above the fetlocks as
+an ordinary pencil.
+
+"Are they all of this size?"
+
+"Yes; all of them. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because"--seeing no harm in telling this--"as I remember them, a
+horse on the other side would make a thousand of this one. People
+ride them."
+
+The Rhamda nodded.
+
+"So it is told in the books of Jarados. We had such beasts, once,
+ourselves. We would have them still, but for the brutality and
+stupidity of our ancestors. It is the one great sin of the
+Thomahlia. Once we had animals, great and small, and all the
+blessings of Nature; we had horses and, I think, what you call
+beef; a thousand other creatures that were food and help and
+companions to man. And for the good they had done our ancestors
+destroyed them!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It was neglect, unthinking and selfish. A time came when our
+civilisation made it possible to live without other creatures.
+When machinery came into vogue we put aside the animals as
+useless; those we had no further use for we denied the right to
+reproduce. The game of the forest was hunted down with powerful
+weapons of destruction; all went, in a century or two; everything
+that could be killed. And with them went the age of our highest
+art, that age of domesticated animals.
+
+"Our greatest paintings, our noblest sculpture, came from that
+age; all the priceless relics that we call classic. And in its
+stead we had the mechanical age. Man likewise became a mechanism,
+emotionless, with no taste for Nature. Meat was made
+synthetically, and so was milk."
+
+"You don't mean to say they did not preserve cows for the sake of
+their milk?"
+
+"No; that kind of milk became old-fashioned; men regarded it as
+unsanitary, fit only for the calves. What they wanted was
+something chemically pure; they waged war on bacteria, microbes,
+and Nature in general; a cow was merely a relic whose product was
+always an uncertainty. With no reason for the meat and no use for
+the milk, our vegetarians and our purists gradually eliminated
+them altogether. It was a strange age; utilitarian, scientific,
+selfish; it was then headed straight for destruction."
+
+And he went on to relate how men began to lose the power of
+emotion; there were no dependent beasts to leaven his nature with
+the salt of kindness; he thought only of his own aggrandisement.
+He became like his machine, a fine thing of perfectly correlated
+parts, but with no higher nature, no soul, no feeling; he was less
+than a brute. The animals disappeared one by one, passing through
+the channel of death, into the world beyond the Spot of Life,
+leaving behind only these tiny survivors, playthings, kept in
+existence longer than all others because of a mere fad.
+
+"Does your spiritism include animals as well as men?"
+
+"Naturally; everything that is endowed with life."
+
+"I see. Let me ask you: why didn't the Rhamdas interfere and put a
+stop to this wanton sacrilege against Nature?"
+
+The Rhamda smiled. "You forget," replied he, "that these events
+belong far in the past. At that time the Rhamdas were not. It was
+even before the coming of the Jarados."
+
+Watson asked no more questions for a while. He wanted to think.
+How could this man Rhamda Geos, if indeed he were a man, accept
+him, Watson, as a spirit? Solid flesh was not exactly in line with
+his idea of the unearthly. How to explain it? He had to go back to
+Holcomb again. The doctor had accepted without question Avec's
+naturalness, his body, his appetite. Reasonably enough, Geos, with
+some smattering of his superior's wisdom, should accept Watson in
+the same way.
+
+And then, the Jarados: at every moment his name had cropped up.
+Who was he? So far he had heard no word that might be construed as
+a clue. The great point, just now, was that the Rhamda Geos
+accepted him as a spirit, as the fact and substance promised by
+Avec. But--where was the doctor?
+
+Chick ventured this question:
+
+"My coming was foretold by the Rhamda Avec, I understand. Is this
+in accord with the words of the Jarados?"
+
+The Rhamda looked up expectantly and spoke with evident anxiety.
+
+"Can you tell me anything about the Jarados?"
+
+"Let us forgo that," side-stepped Watson. "Possibly I can tell you
+much that you would like to know. What I want to know is, just how
+well prepared you are to receive me?"
+
+"Then you come from the Jarados!"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"What do you know about him?"
+
+"This: someone should have preceded me! The fact and the
+substance-you were to have it inside three days! It has been
+several hundred times the space allotted! Is it not so?"
+
+The Rhamda's eyes were pin-pointed with eagerness.
+
+"Then it IS true! You are from the Jarados! You know the great
+Rhamda Avec--you have seen him!"
+
+"I have," declared Watson.
+
+"In the other world? You can remember?"
+
+"Yes," again committing himself. "I have seen Avec--in another
+world. But tell me, before we go on I would have an answer to my
+question: did anyone precede me?"
+
+"No."
+
+Watson was nonplussed, but he concealed the fact.
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite, my dear sir. The Spot of Life was watched continually from
+the moment the Rhamda left us."
+
+"You mean, he and the Nervina?"
+
+"Quite so; she followed him after an interval of a few hours."
+
+"I know. But you say that no one came out ahead of me. Who was it
+that guarded this--this Spot of Life? The Rhamdas?"
+
+"They and the Bars."
+
+"Ah! And who are the Bars?"
+
+"The military priesthood. They are the Mahovisal, and of the
+Temple of the Bell. They are led by the great Bar Senestro."
+
+"And there were times when these Bars, led by this Senestro, held
+guard over the Spot of Life?" To this Geos nodded; and Watson went
+on: "And who is this great Senestro?"
+
+"He is the chief of the Bars, and a prince of D'Hartia. He is the
+affianced of the two queens, the Aradna and the Nervina."
+
+"The TWO of them?"
+
+Whereupon Watson learned something rather peculiar. It seemed that
+the princes of D'Hartia had always married the queens. This
+Senestro had had a brother, but he died. And in such an event it
+was the iron custom that the surviving brother marry both queens.
+It had happened only once before in all history; but the precedent
+was unbreakable.
+
+"Then, there is nothing against it?"
+
+"Nothing; except, perhaps the prophecy of the Jarados. We now
+know--the whole world knows--that we are fast approaching the Day
+of Life."
+
+"Of course; the Day of Life." Watson decided upon another chance
+shot. "It has to do with the marriage of the two queens!"
+
+"You DO know!" cried the Rhamda joyously. "Tell me!"
+
+"No; it is I who am asking the questions."
+
+Watson's mind was working like lightning. Whether it was the
+influence of the strange drink, or the equally strange influence
+of ordinary inspiration, he was never more self-assured in his
+life. It seemed a day for taking long chances.
+
+"Tell me," he inquired, "what has the Day of Life to do with the
+two queens and their betrothal?"
+
+The Rhamda throttled his eagerness. "It is one of the obscure
+points of the prophecy. There are some scholars who hold that such
+a problem as this presages the coming of the end and the advent of
+the chosen. But others oppose this interpretation, for reasons
+purely material: for if the Bar Senestro should marry both queens
+it would make him the sole ruler of the Thomahlia. Only once
+before have we had a single ruler; for centuries upon centuries we
+have had two queens; one of the D'Hartians, and the other of the
+Kospians, enthroned here in the Mahovisal."
+
+Watson would have liked to learn far more. But the time seemed one
+for action on his part; bold action, and positive.
+
+"Rhamda Geos--I do not know what is your version of the prophecy.
+But you are positive that no one preceded me out of the Spot?"
+
+"I am. Why do you persist?"
+
+"Because"--speaking slowly and with the greatest care--"because
+there was one greater than I, who came before me!"
+
+The Rhamda rose excitedly to his feet, and then sank back into his
+chair again. In his eyes was nothing save eagerness, wonder and
+respect. He leaned forward.
+
+"Who was it? Who was he?"
+
+Watson's voice was steady as stone.
+
+"The great Jarados himself!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+A LONG WAY FROM SHORE
+
+
+Once more Watson had taken the kind of chance he preferred--a
+slender one. He took the chance that these people, however occult
+and advanced they might be, were still human enough to build their
+prophecy out of an old foundation. If he were right, then the
+person of the Jarados would be inviolable. If the professor were
+prisoner, held somewhere in secret, and it got noised about that
+he was the true prophet returned--it would not only give Holcomb
+immense prestige, but at the same time render the position of his
+captors untenable.
+
+Chick needed no great discernment to see that he had touched a
+vital spot. The philosophy of the Rhamdas was firmly bound up with
+spiritism; they had gone far in science, and had passed out of
+mere belief into the deeper, finer understanding that went behind
+the shadow for proof. Certainly Watson inwardly rejoiced to see
+Rhamda Geos incredulous, his keen face whitening like that of one
+who has just heard sacrilege uttered--to see Geos rise in his
+place, grip the table tightly, and hear him exclaim:
+
+"The Jarados! Did you say--the Jarados? He has come amongst us,
+and we have not known? You are perfectly sure of this?"
+
+"I am," stated Watson, and met the other's keen scrutiny without
+flinching.
+
+Would the game work? At least it promised action; and now that he
+had the old feeling of himself he was anxious to get under way.
+Any feeling of fear was gone now. He calmly nodded his head.
+
+"Yes, it is so. But sit down. I have still a bit more to tell
+you."
+
+The Rhamda resumed his seat. Clearly, his reverence had been
+greatly augmented in the past few seconds. From that time on there
+was a marked difference in his manner; and his speech, when he
+addressed Chick, contained the expression "my lord"--an expression
+that Watson found it easy enough to become accustomed to.
+
+"Did you doubt, Rhamda Geos, that I came from the Jarados?"
+
+"We did not doubt. We were certain."
+
+"I see. You were not expecting the Jarados."
+
+"Not yet, my lord. The coming of the Jarados shall be close to the
+Day of the Judgment. But it could not be so soon; there were to be
+signs and portents. We were to solve the problem first; we were to
+know the reason of the shadow and the why of the spirit. The
+wisdom of the Rhamda Avec told that the day approaches; he had
+opened the Spot of Life and gone through it; but he had NOT sent
+the fact and the substance." Watson smiled. There was just enough
+superstition, it seemed, beneath all the Rhamda's wisdom to make
+him tractable. However, Chick asked:
+
+"Tell me: as a learned man, as a Rhamda, do you believe in the
+prophecy implicitly?"
+
+"Yes, my lord. I am a spiritist; and if spiritism is truth, then
+the Jarados was genuine, and his prophecy is true. After all, my
+lord, it is not a case of legend, but of history. The Jarados came
+at a time of high civilisation, when men would see and understand
+him; he gave us his teaching in records, and imposed his laws upon
+the Thomahlia. Then he departed--through the Spot of Life."
+
+And the Rhamda Geos went on to say that the teachings of the
+Jarados had been moral as well as intellectual. Moreover, after he
+had formulated his laws, he wrote out his judgment.
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"An exhortation, my lord, that we were to give proof of our
+appreciation of intelligence. We were to use it, and to prove
+ourselves worthy of it by lifting ourselves up to the level of the
+Spot of Life. In other words, the spot would be opened when, and
+only when, we had learned the secrets of the occult, and--had
+opened the Spot ourselves!"
+
+Watson thought he understood partly. He asked:
+
+"And that is why you doubt me?"
+
+"You, my lord? Not so! You were found in the Temple of the Bell
+and Leaf; not on the Spot itself, to be sure, but on the floor of
+the temple. You were, both in your person and in your dress, of
+another world; you had been promised by the Rhamda Avec; and, in a
+sense, you were a part of the prophecy. We accepted you!"
+
+"But I speak your language. Account for that, Geos."
+
+"It need not be accounted for, my lord. We accept it as fact. The
+affinity of spirit would not be bound by the limitation of
+artificial speech. That you should talk the Thomahlia language is
+no more strange than that Rhamda Avec, when he passed into your
+world, should speak your tongue."
+
+"We call our language English," supplied Watson. "It is the tongue
+of the Jarados and of myself."
+
+"Tell me of the Jarados, my lord!" with renewed eagerness. "In the
+other world--what is he?"
+
+It was Chick's opportunity. By telling the simple truth about Dr.
+Holcomb he would enhance himself in the eyes of Rhamda Geas.
+
+"In the other world--we call it America--the Jaradas is a Rhamda
+much like yourself, the head and chief of many Rhamdas sitting in
+a great institution devoted to intelligence. It is called the
+University of California."
+
+"And this California; what is it, my lord?"
+
+"A name," returned Chick. "Immediately on the other side of the
+Spot is a region called California."
+
+"The promised land, my lord!"
+
+"The promised land indeed. There are some who call it paradise,
+even there." And for good measure he proceeded to tell much of his
+own land, of the woods, the rivers, the cities, animals,
+mountains, the sky, the moon, and the sun. When he came to the sun
+he explained that no man dared to look at it continuously with the
+bare eyes. Its great heat and splendour astounded Geos.
+
+Concerning himself he nonchalantly stated that he was the fiance
+of Holcomb's daughter; that is, son-in-law-to-be of the prophet
+Jarados; that he was sort of Junior Rhamda. He declared that he
+had come from the occult Rhamdas, through the other side of the
+Spot, in search of the Jarados who had gone before. As to his
+blankness up to now, and his perplexity--he was but a Junior; and
+the Spot had naturally benumbed his senses. Even now, he
+apologised, it was difficult to know and to recall everything
+clearly.
+
+Through it all the Rhamda Geos Listened in something like awe. He
+was hearing of wonders never before guessed in the Thomahlia. As
+the prospective son-in-law of the Jarados, Watson automatically
+lifted himself to a supreme height, so great that, could he only
+hold himself up to it, he would have a prestige second only to
+that of the prophet himself.
+
+All of a sudden he thought of a question. It gripped him with
+dread, the dread of the unknown. The question was one of TIME.
+"How long have I been here, Rhamda Geos?"
+
+"Over eleven months, by our system of reckoning. You were found on
+the floor of the temple three hundred and fifty-seven days ago;
+you were in a lifeless condition; you must have been there some
+hours, my lord, before we discovered you."
+
+"Eleven months!" It had seemed but that many minutes. "And I was
+unconscious--"
+
+"All the time, my lord. Had we caught you immediately upon your
+coming, we could have brought you around within three days, but in
+the circumstances it was impossible to restore you before we did.
+You have been under the care of the greatest specialists in all
+Thomahlia."
+
+Geos himself had been one of these. "The council of Rhamdas went
+into special session, my lord, immediately after your
+materialisation, and has been sitting almost continually since.
+And now that you are revived, they are waiting in person for you
+to show yourself.
+
+"They accept you. They do not know who you are, my lord; none of
+us has guessed even a part of the truth. The entire council
+awaits!"
+
+But Chick wanted more. Besides, he looked at his clothing.
+
+"I would have my own garments, Geos; also, whatever else was found
+on my person."
+
+For Watson was thinking of a small but powerful pistol, an
+automatic, that he had carried on the night when he fell through
+the Blind Spot. This question of materiality was still a puzzle;
+if he himself had survived there was a chance that the firearm had
+done the same. It might and it might not preclude the occult.
+Anyway, he treasured the thought of that automatic; with it in his
+possession he would not be bare-handed in case of emergency.
+
+They returned to the room in which Chick had awakened. The Rhamda
+left him. A few moments later he came back with a squad of men.
+Chick noted their discipline, movement, and uniforms, and classed
+them as soldiers. Two men were stationed outside the door--one, a
+stout, dark individual in a blue uniform; and the other a lithe,
+athletic chap, blond and blue-eyed, wearing a bright crimson
+dress. Chick instinctively preferred both man and garb in crimson;
+there was a touch of honour, of lightness and strength that just
+suited him. The other was dark, heavy and sinister.
+
+Both wore sandals, and upon their heads curious shakos, made of
+the finest down, not fur. Both displayed a heavy silken braid
+looped from one shoulder. Each carried a spear-like weapon, of
+some shining black material, straight-tapered to a needle-point;
+but no other arms.
+
+Watson pointed to the two uniforms.
+
+"What is the significance, Geos?"
+
+"One is from the queen, my lord; the other from Bar Senestro. The
+blue is the cloth of the Bars; the red, that of the queens. The
+Bar and the queen send this bodyguard with their respective
+compliments."
+
+Chick took the bundle that Geos had brought, and proceeded to don
+his own clothes, finding deep satisfaction in the fact that they
+had arrived as intact as he. He felt carefully in his hip pocket;
+the automatic was still there, likewise the extra magazine of
+cartridges that he had carried about with him on that night.
+
+In his other pockets he found two packets of cigarettes, a pouch
+of tobacco, some papers, a few coins, a little money and two
+photographs, one of Bertha and the other of her father. Not a
+thing had been disturbed.
+
+He announced himself ready.
+
+The Rhamda conducted him down the corridor, which he found to be
+lined with guards; red on one side, blue on the other. These men
+fell in behind in two parallel files, one of the one colour and
+one of the other.
+
+It was a building of great size. The corridors were long and high,
+all with the wide-coved ceiling, and of colours that melted from
+one shade to another as they turned, not corners, but curves.
+Apparently each colour had its own suggestive reason. Such rooms
+as Chick could look into were uniformly large, beautiful, and
+distinctly lighted.
+
+The guard moved in silent rhythm; the chief sound was that made by
+Watson's leather-heeled shoes, drowning out, for once, the
+everlasting tinkling undertone of those unseen fairy-bells; that
+running cadence, never ceasing, silver, liquid, like the soul of
+sound.
+
+Though Watson walked with head erect, he had eyes for every little
+thing he passed. He noted the material of the structure and tried
+to name it; neither plaster nor stone, the walls were highly
+polished and, somehow or other, capable of emitting perfume--light
+and wholesome, not heavy and oppressive. And in dark passages the
+walls glowed.
+
+The corridor widened, and with a graceful curve opened upon a wide
+stairway that descended, or rather sank--to use Watson's own words
+for the feeling--into the depths of the building. To the right of
+one landing was a large window reaching to the floor; its panes
+were clear and not frosted as had been the others.
+
+Chick got his first glimpse here of what lay outside--an
+iridescent landscape, at first view astonishingly like an ocean of
+opals; for it was of many hues, red and purple and milky white,
+splashed violantin blue and fluorescence--a maze and shimmer of
+dancing, joyful colours, whirring in an uncertainty of
+polychromatic harmony. Such was his first fleeting impression.
+
+At the next landing he looked closer. It was not unlike a monster
+bowl of bubbles; the same illusion of movement, the same delicacy
+and witchery of colour, only here the sensation was not that of
+decomposition but of life; of flowers, delicate as the rainbow,
+tenuous, sinuous, breathing--weaving in a serpentine maze of
+daedalian hues; long tendrils of orchidian beauty, lifting,
+weaving, drooping--a vast sea of equatorial bloom; but--no trees.
+
+"This is our landscape," spoke the Rhamda. "According to the
+Jarados, it is not like that of the next world--your world, my
+lord. After you meet the Rhamdas, I shall take you into the
+Mahovisal for a closer view of it all."
+
+They reached the bottom of the stairway. Chick noted the
+architecture in the entrance-way at this point; the seeming
+solidness of structure, as if the whole had been chiselled, not
+built. The vestibule was really a hall, domed and high, large
+enough to shelter a hundred. Like the corridor outside Chick's
+room, it was lined with a row each of red and blue uniformed
+guards.
+
+Invariably the one belonged to the blond, lithe, quick-feeling
+type, the others heavy, sturdy, formidable. The extremities of the
+two lines converged on an oval-topped doorway, very large, having
+above it a design conventionalised from the three-leafed clover.
+One leaf was scarlet, one blue, the other green.
+
+The door opened. The guards halted. Geos stepped aside with a bow,
+and Watson strode forward into the presence of the Council of the
+Rhamdas.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+THE BAR SENESTRO
+
+
+It was a critical moment for Chick. Out of the impulse of his
+inner nature he had chosen the odds that he must now uphold
+against the combined wisdom of these intellectuals. He was alone,
+with no one to guide him save Geos, who undoubtedly was his
+friend, but who as undoubtedly would desert him upon the slightest
+inkling of imposture.
+
+He found himself in a great, round room, or rather an oval one,
+domed at the top but tinted in a far more beautiful colouring--
+lazuli blue. The walls were cut by long, narrow windows reaching
+far up into the sweep where the side melted into the ceiling. The
+material of the windows was of the same translucent substance
+already noted, but slightly tinged with green, so that they shed a
+soft light, cooled and quiet, over the whole assembly.
+
+On the wall opposite the doorway was a large replica of the
+clover-leaf design outside, even more gem-like in brilliance; its
+three colours woven into a trinity almost of flame. Whether the
+light was artificial or intrinsic, Chick could not say. The floor
+of the place accommodated some three hundred tables, of the
+library type, and the same number of men bearing the distinguished
+stamp of the Rhamda. All were smooth-shaven, comparatively tall,
+and possessing the same aesthetic manner which impressed one with
+the notion of inherited, inherent culture. The entire hall had the
+atmosphere of learning, justice and the supreme tribunal.
+
+For a moment Watson felt weak and uncertain. He could hold up
+against Geos and Avec, but in the face of such an array he wasn't
+so sure. There was but one thing to encourage him; the faces into
+which he looked. All were full of wonder and reverence.
+
+Then he looked about him more carefully. He had come out upon a
+wide platform, or rostrum. He now noticed that he was flanked on
+either side by thrones--two of them; they seemed made of golden
+amber. The one on the right was occupied by a man, the other by a
+woman. In the pause that was vouchsafed him Chick took note of
+these two, and wondered.
+
+In the first place, the man was not a Rhamda. The jewelled semi-
+armour that he wore was more significant than the dignified garb
+of the Intellectuals; at the same time, his accoutrements
+cheapened him, by contrast. He was executive, princely, with the
+bearing that comes of worldly ambitions and attainments; a man
+strangely handsome, vital, athletic; curling hair, dark, quick
+eyes and even features; except only for the mouth he might have
+been taken as a model of the Greek Alexander.
+
+The clothes he wore were classic, as was everything else about
+him, even to his sandals, his bare arms and his jewelled
+breastplate.
+
+Watson had studied history. He had a quick impression of a
+composite--of genius, cruelty and sensuality. Here was one with
+three strong natures, a sort of Nero, Caligula and Alexander
+combined: the sensuality of the first, the cruelty of the second,
+and the instinctive fire and greatness of the immortal Macedonian.
+The man was smiling; not an amused smile, but one of interest,
+humorous tolerance.
+
+When their eyes met, Chick caught the magnetic current of
+personality, the same sense of illusiveness that he and Harry
+Wendel had noted in the Nervina; only here it was negative,
+resisting instead of aiding. A number of the blue guard surrounded
+the throne, their faces dark, strong, and of unconquerable
+resolution, though slow to think.
+
+On the other throne was a girl. Chick had heard enough from the
+Geos to guess her identity: one of the queens, the Aradna; frail,
+delicate, a blue-eyed maiden, with a waving mass of straw-gold
+hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She too was classically
+attired, although there were touches of modernity here and there
+in the arrangement of ribbons; the garment matched her guards'
+crimson, and was draped about her shoulders so as to leave one
+bare, together with that arm. Across her forehead was a band of
+dark-blue gems, and she wore no other jewels.
+
+She was not more than seventeen or eighteen, with eyes like
+bluebells, lips as red as poppies, features that danced with
+delight and laughter and all the innocence that one would
+associate with elfin royalty. Instinctively Chick compared her
+with the Nervina.
+
+The senior queen had the subtle magnetism, the uncountable
+fascination, the poise and decision that held and dictated all
+things to her fancy.
+
+Not so the Aradna. Hers was the strength of simplicity, the frank,
+open delight of the maiden, and at the same time all the charm and
+suggestion of coming womanhood. When she caught Watson's eye she
+smiled; a smile free and unrestrained, out of an open, happy
+heart. She made a remark to one of her guards, who nodded a reply
+after the manner of a friend, rather than a courtier.
+
+Watson turned to the Geos, who stood somewhat to one side, and a
+little to the rear.
+
+"The Aradna?"
+
+"Yes. The queen of D'Hartia. The man on the other side is the Bar
+Senestro."
+
+Whatever feeling Chick entertained for the one was offset by what
+he felt for the other. He was between two forces; his instinct
+warned him of the Bar, sceptical, powerful, ruthless, a man to be
+reckoned with; but his better nature went out to the young queen.
+
+At a motion from Geos, the whole assembly of Rhamdas stood up. The
+action was both dignified and reverent. Though Chick was, in their
+eyes, a miracle, there was no unseemly staring nor jarring of
+curiosity; all was quietness, ease, poise; the only sound was that
+of the constant subtle music of those invisible bells.
+
+Rhamda Geos began speaking. At the same time he placed a friendly
+hand on Watson's shoulder, a signal for every other Rhamda to
+resume his seat.
+
+"The Fact and the Substance, my brothers."
+
+Geos paused as he made use of the ultra-significant phrase. And
+then, in a few rapid sentences, he ran over the synopsis of that
+affair, beginning with some philosophy and other details that
+Watson could only half understand, making frequent allusions to
+the Jarados and other writers of prophecy; then he made some
+mention of his own particular brand of spiritism and its stand on
+materialisation. This he followed with an account of the finding
+of Watson in the temple, his long sleep and ultimate reviving. At
+greater length he repeated the gist of their conversation.
+
+Not until then was there a stir among the Rhamdas. Chick glanced
+over at the Aradna. She was listening eagerly, her chin cupped in
+her hand, her blue eyes full of interest and wonder, and natural,
+unfeigned, child-like delight.
+
+Then the Bar caught Chick's glance; the newcomer felt the cold
+chill of calculation, the cynical weight of the sceptic, and a
+queer foreboding of the future; no light glance, but one like fire
+and ice and iron. He wondered at the man's beauty and genius, and
+at his emotional preponderance manifest even here before the
+Rhamdas.
+
+The Geos went on. His words, now, were simple and direct. Watson
+felt himself almost deified by that reverent manner. The Rhamdas
+listened with visibly growing interest; the Aradna leaned slightly
+forward; even the Bar dropped his interest in Watson to pay closer
+attention to the speaker. For Geos had come to the Jarados; he was
+an orator as well as a mystic, and he was advancing Chick's words
+with all the skill of a master of language, ascending effect--
+climax--the Jarados had come among them, and--They had missed him!
+
+For a moment there was silence, then a rustle of general comment.
+Chick watched the Rhamdas, leaning over to whisper to each other.
+Could he stand up against them?
+
+But none of them spoke. After the first murmur of comment they
+lapsed into silence again. It was the Bar Senestro who broke the
+tension.
+
+"May I ask, Rhamda Geos, why you make such an assertion? What
+proof have you, to begin with, that this man," indicating Watson
+with a nod, "is not merely one of ourselves: a D'Hartian or a
+Kospian?"
+
+The Geos replied instantly: "You know the manner of his discovery,
+Bar Senestro. Have you not eyes?" Geos seemed to think he had said
+the last word.
+
+"Surely," rejoined the Bar good-humouredly. "I have very good
+eyes, Rhamda Geos. Likewise I have a mind to reason with; but my
+imagination, I fear, is defective. What I behold is just such a
+creature as myself; not otherwise. How hold you that this one is
+proof out of the occult?"
+
+"You are sceptical," returned the Rhamda, evenly. "Even as you
+behold him, you are full of doubt. But do you not recall the words
+of the great Avec? Do you not know the Prophecy of the Jarados?"
+
+"Truly, Geos; I remember them both. Especially the writing on the
+wall of the temple. Does not the prophet himself say: 'And behold,
+in the last days there shall come among ye--the false ones. Them
+ye shall slay'?"
+
+"All very true, Bar Senestro. But you well know--we all know--that
+the true prophecy was to be fulfilled when the Spot was opened.
+Did not the fulfilment begin when the Avec and the Nervina passed
+through to the other side?"
+
+"The fulfilment, Geos? Perhaps it was the sign of the coming of
+impostors! The end may not be until ALL the conditions are
+complied with!"
+
+But at this moment Aradna saw fit to speak.
+
+"Senestro, would you condemn this one without allowing him a word
+in his own defence? Is it fair? Besides, he does not look like an
+impostor to me. I like his face. Perhaps he is one of the chosen!"
+
+At the last word the Bar frowned. His glance shifted suddenly to
+Watson, a swift look of ice-cold calculation.
+
+"Very, very true, O Aradna. I, too, would have him speak in his
+own behalf. Let him amuse us with his tongue. What would your
+majesty care to hear, O Aradna, from this phantom?"
+
+The words were of biting satire. Chick wheeled upon the Bar. Their
+eyes clashed; an encounter not altogether to Watson's credit. He
+was a bit unsteady, a trifle uncertain of his power. He had
+calculated on the superstition of the Rhamdas to hold him up until
+he caught his footing, and this unexpected scepticism was
+disconcerting. However, he was no coward; the feeling passed away
+almost at once. He strode straight up to the throne of the Bar;
+and once more he spoke from sheer impulse:
+
+"The Aradna has spoken true, O Senestro, or sinister, or whatever
+you may be called. I demand fair hearing! It is my due; for I have
+come from another world. I follow--the Jarados!"
+
+If Watson had supposed that he had taken the Bar's measure, he was
+mistaken. The prince's eyes suddenly glinted with a fierce
+pleasure. Like a flash his antagonism shifted to something
+astonishingly like admiration.
+
+"Well spoken! Incidentally, you are well made and sound looking,
+stranger."
+
+"Passably," replied Watson. "I do not care to discuss my
+appearance, however. I am certainly no more ill-favoured than some
+others."
+
+"And impertinent," continued the other, quite without malice. "Do
+you know anything about the Bar, to whom you speak so saucily?"
+
+"I know that you have intimated that I may be an impostor. You
+have done this, after hearing what the learned Rhamda Geos has
+said. You know the facts; you know that I have come from the
+Jarados. I--"
+
+But it wasn't Watson's words that held the Bar's attention.
+Chick's straight, well-knit form, his quick-trained actions,
+overbalanced the question of the prophet in the mind of the man on
+the throne. His delight was self-evident.
+
+"Truly you are soundly built, stranger; you are made of iron and
+whipcord, finely formed, quick and alert." He threw a word to one
+of his heavy-faced attendants, then suddenly stood up and
+descended from his throne. He came up and stood beside Watson.
+
+Chick straightened. The prince was an inch the taller; his bare
+arms long-muscled, lithe, powerful; under the pink skin Chick
+could see the delicate, cat-like play of strength and vitality. He
+sensed the strength of the man, his quick, eager, instinctive
+glance, his panther-like step and certainty of graceful movement.
+
+"Stranger," spoke the Bar, "indeed you ARE an athlete! What is
+your nationality--Kospian?"
+
+"Neither Kospian nor D'Hartian; I am an American. True, there are
+some who have said that I am built like a man; I pride myself that
+I can conduct myself like one."
+
+"And speak impertinently." Still in the best of humour, the prince
+coolly reached out and felt Watson's biceps. His eyes became still
+brighter. If not an admirer of decorum, he could appreciate firm
+flesh. "Sirra! You ARE strong! Answer me--do you know anything
+about games of violence?"
+
+"Several. Anything you choose."
+
+But the prince shook his head. "Not so. I claim no unfair
+advantage; you are well met, and opportune. Let it be a contest of
+your own choosing. The greater honour to myself, the victor!"
+
+But the little queen saw fit to interfere.
+
+"Senestro, is this the code of the Bar? Is not your proposal
+unseemly to so great a guest? Restrain your eagerness for strength
+and for muscle! You have preferred charges against this man; now
+you would hurl your body as well. Remember, I am the queen; I can
+command it of you."
+
+The Senestro bowed.
+
+"Your wishes are my law, O Aradna." Then, turning to Watson: "I am
+over-eager, stranger. You are the best-built man I have seen for
+many a circle. But I shall best you." He paced to his throne and
+resumed his seat. "Let him tell us his tale. I repeat, Geos, that
+for all his beauty this one is an impostor. When he has spoken I
+shall confute him. I ask only that in the end he be turned over to
+me."
+
+It was plain that the Thomahlia was blest with odd rulers. If the
+Bar Senestro was a priest, he was clearly still more of a soldier.
+The fiery challenge of the man struck an answering chord in
+Watson; he knew the time must come when he should weigh himself up
+against this Alexander, and it was anything but displeasing to
+him.
+
+"What must I say and do?" he asked the Rhamda Geos. "What do they
+want me to tell them?"
+
+"Just what you have told me: tell them of the Nervina, and of the
+Rhamda Avec. The prince is a man of the world, but from the
+Rhamdas you will have justice."
+
+Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals. They seemed accustomed
+to the outbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting
+complacently. In a few words Watson described the Nervina and
+Avec; their appearance, manners--everything. Fortunately he did
+not have to dissemble. When he had finished there was a faint
+murmur of approval.
+
+"It is proven," declared the girl queen. "It is truly my cousin,
+the Nervina. I knew not the Rhamda, but from your faces it must
+have been he, Senestro, what say you to this?"
+
+But the Bar was totally unconvinced.
+
+"All this is childish. Did I not say he is of our world--D'Hartian
+or Kospian, or some other? Does not all Thomahlia know of the
+Nervina? Few have seen the Rhamda Avec, but what of it? Some have.
+What this stranger says proves nothing at all. I say, give him a
+test."
+
+"The test?" from Geos, in a hushed tone.
+
+"Just that. There is none who knows the likeness of the Jarados;
+none but the absent Avec. None among us has ever seen his image.
+It is a secret to all save the High Rhamda. Yet, in cases like
+this, well may the Leaf be opened."
+
+Watson, wondering what was meant, listened closely to the prince
+as he continued: "It is written that there are times when all may
+see. Surely this is such a time.
+
+"Now let this stranger describe the Jarados. He says that he had
+seen him; that he is the Prophet's prospective son-in-law. Good!
+Let him describe the Jarados to us!
+
+"Then open the Leaf! If he speaks true, we shall know him to be
+from the Jarados. If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes
+of my own."
+
+Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of
+quick decision. Watson knew that the moment had come to test his
+luck to the uttermost. There was but one thing to do; he did it.
+He said to the Rhamda Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference:
+
+"I am willing."
+
+Geos was distinctively relieved, "It is good, my lord. Tell us in
+simple words. Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just
+as you would have us see him. Afterwards we shall open the Leaf."
+And in a lower tone: "If you speak accurately I shall be
+vindicated, my lord. I doubt not that you are a better man than
+the prince; but place your reliance in the Truth; it will be one
+more proof of the occult, and of the Day approaching."
+
+Which is all that Watson told. But first he breathed a prayer to
+One who is above all things occult or physical. He did not
+understand where he was nor how he had got there; he only knew
+that his fate was hanging on a toss of chance.
+
+He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes
+and speaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he
+recalled of the old professor. He tried to describe him just as he
+had appeared that day in the ethics class, when he made the great
+announcement; the trim, stubby figure of Professor Holcomb, the
+pink, healthy skin, the wise, grey, kindly eyes, and the close-
+cropped, pure white beard: all, just as Chick had known him. One
+chance in millions; he took it.
+
+"That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise,
+BEARDED man."
+
+There was not a breath or a murmur in comment. All hung upon his
+words; there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking,
+only the throb of his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution
+in his veins. He had spoken. If only there might be a resemblance!
+
+The Geos stepped forward a pace. "It is well said. If the truth
+has been spoken, there shall be room for no dispute. It shall be
+known throughout all Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has
+spoken. Let the Leaf be opened!"
+
+Chick never knew just what happened, much less how it was
+accomplished. He knew only that a black, opaque wave ran up the
+long windows, shutting off the light, so that instantly the
+darkness of night enveloped everything, blotting out all that maze
+of colour; it was the blackness of the void. Then came a tiny
+light, a mere dot of flame, over on the opposite wall; a pin-point
+of light it was, seemingly coming out of a vast distance like an
+approaching star, growing gradually larger, spreading out into a
+screen of radiance that presently was flashing with intrinsic
+life. The corruscation grew brighter; little tufts of brilliance
+shot out with all the stabbing suddenness of shooting stars. To
+Chick it was exactly as though some god were pushing his way
+through and out of fire. In the end the flame burst asunder,
+diminished into a receding circle and sputtered out.
+
+And in the place of the strange light there appeared the
+illuminated figure of a man. Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his
+eyes and looked again.
+
+It was the bust of Professor Holcomb.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR
+
+
+Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage--Rhamdas, guards, the
+occupants of the two thrones--he himself was the most astounded.
+Was the great professor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not,
+how explain this miracle? But if he were, how to explain the
+duality, the identity? Surely, it could not be sheer chance!
+
+Fortunately for Chick, it was dark. All eyes were fixed on the
+trim figure which occupied the space of the clover-leaf on the
+rear wall. Except for Chick's strangled gasp, there was only the
+hushed silence of reverence, deep and impressive.
+
+Then another dot appeared. From its position, Watson took it to
+come from another leaf of the clover; another light approaching
+out of the void and cutting through the blackness exactly as the
+first had come. It grew and spread until it had filled the whole
+leaf; then, again the bursting of the flare, the diminishing of
+the light, and its disappearance in a thin rim at the edge. And
+this time there was revealed--
+
+A handsome brown-haired DOG.
+
+Watson of course, could not understand. The silence held; he could
+feel the Rhamda Geos at his side, and hear him murmur something
+which, in itself, was quite unintelligible:
+
+"The four-footed one! The call to humility, sacrifice, and
+unselfishness! The four-footed one!"
+
+That was all. It was a shaggy shepherd dog, with a pointed nose
+and one ear cocked up and the other down, very wisely inquisitive.
+Chick had seen similar dogs many times, but he could not account
+for this one; certainly not in such a place. What had it to do
+with the Jarados?
+
+Still the darkness. It gave him a chance to think. He wondered,
+rapidly, how he could link up such a creature with his description
+of the Jarados. What could be the purpose of a canine in occult
+philosophy? Or, was the whole thing, after all, mere blundering
+chance?
+
+This is what bothered Chick. He did not know how to adjust
+himself; life, place, sequence, were all out of order. Until he
+could gather exact data, he must trust to intuition as before.
+
+The two pictures vanished simultaneously. Down came the black
+waves from the windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was
+once more flooded with that mellow radiance. The Rhamda Geos
+stepped forward as a murmur of awed approval arose from the
+assembly. There was no applause. One does not applaud the
+miraculous. The Geos took his hand.
+
+"It is proven!" he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: "Is there any
+question, my brothers?"
+
+But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had
+triumphed over all else. The men of learning turned none but
+reverent faces toward Watson.
+
+He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph he
+was apprehensive of the princes's keen genius. An agnostic is
+seldom converted by what could be explained away as mere
+coincidence. Moreover, as it ultimately appeared, the Bar now had
+more than one reason for antagonising the man who claimed to be
+the professor's prospective son-in-law.
+
+"Is there any question?" repeated Rhamda Geos.
+
+But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was
+standing before her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin
+revealed the tender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close
+scrutiny, and then addressed the Geos:
+
+"I want to put one question, Rhamda. The stranger seems to be a
+goodly young man. He has come from the Jarados. Tell me, is he
+truly of the chosen?"
+
+But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted
+the answer. The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking
+laughter.
+
+"The chosen, O Aradna? The chosen? Do not allow yourself to be
+tricked by a little thing! I myself have been chosen by the
+inherited law of the Thomahlia!" Then to Chick: "I see, Sir
+Phantom, that our futures are to be intertwined with interest!"
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"No? Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I
+shall teach you the value of materiality. You are well made and
+handsome, likewise courageous. May the time soon come when you can
+put your mettle to the test in a fair conflict!"
+
+"It is your own saying, O Senestro!" warned Geos. "You must abide
+by my Lord's reply."
+
+"True; and I shall abide. I know nothing of black magic, or any
+other. But I care not. I know only that I cannot accept this
+stranger as a spirit. I have felt his muscles, and I know his
+strength; they are a man's, and a Thomahlian's."
+
+"Then you do not abide?"
+
+"Yes, I do. That is, I do not claim him. He has won his freedom.
+But as for endorsing him--no, not until he has given further
+proof. Let him come to the Spot of Life. Let him take the ordeal.
+Let him qualify on the Day of the Prophet."
+
+"My lord, do you accept?"
+
+Watson had no idea what the "ordeal" might be, nor what might be
+the significance of the day. But he could not very well refuse. He
+spoke as lightly as he could.
+
+"Of course. I accept anything." Then, addressing the prince: "One
+word, O Senestro."
+
+"Speak up, Sir Phantom!"
+
+"Bar Senestro--what have you done with the Jarados?"
+
+An instant's stunned silence greeted this stab. It was broken by
+the prince.
+
+"The Jarados!" His voice was unruffled. "What know I of the
+Jarados?"
+
+"Take care! You have seen him--you know his power!"
+
+"You have a courageous sort of impertinence!"
+
+"I have determination and knowledge! Bar Senestro, I have come for
+the Jarados!" Chick paused for effect. "Now what think you? Am I
+of the chosen?"
+
+He had meant it as a deliberate taunt, and so it was taken. The
+Bar shot to his feet. Not that he was angered; his straight,
+handsome form was kingly, and for all his impulsiveness there was
+a certain real majesty about his every pose.
+
+"You are of the chosen. It is well; you have given spice to the
+taunt! I would not have it otherwise. Forget not your courage on
+the Day of the Prophet!"
+
+With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneath
+his throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to the
+assembly--and was gone. The blue guard followed in silence.
+
+The rest of the ordeal was soon done. Nothing more was said about
+the Jarados, nor of what the Bar Senestro had brought up. There
+were a few questions about the world he had quit, questions which
+put no strain upon his imagination to answer. He was out of the
+deep water for the present.
+
+When the assembly dissolved Chick was conducted back to the
+apartments upstairs. Not to his old room, however, but to an
+adjoining suite, a magnificent place--that would have done honour
+to a prince. But Chick scarcely noted the beauty of the place. His
+attention flew at once to something for which he longed--an
+immense globe.
+
+Chick spun it around eagerly upon its axis. The first thing that
+he looked for was San Francisco--or, rather, North America. If he
+was on the earth he wanted to know it! Surely the oceans and
+continents would not change.
+
+But he was doomed to disappointment. There was not a familiar
+detail. Outside of a network of curved lines indicating latitude
+and longitude, and the accustomed tilt of the polar axis, the
+globe was totally strange! So strange that Chick could not decide
+which was water and which land.
+
+After a bit of puzzling Chick ran across a yellow patch marked
+with some strange characters which, upon examination, were
+translated in some unknown manner within his subconscious mind, to
+"D'Hartia." Another was lettered "Kospia."
+
+Assuming that these were land--and there were a few other, smaller
+ones, of the same shade--then the land area covered approximately
+three-fifths of the globe. Inferentially the green remainder, or
+two-fifths, was the water or ocean covered area. Such a proportion
+was nearly the precise reverse of that obtaining on the earth.
+Chick puzzled over other strange names--H'Alara, Mal Somnal,
+Bloudou San, and the like. Not one name or outline that he could
+place!
+
+How could he make his discovery fit with the words of Dr. Holcomb,
+and with what philosophy he knew? Somehow there was too much life,
+too much reality, to fit in with any spiritistic hypothesis. He
+was surrounded by real matter, atomic, molecular, cellular. He was
+certain that if he were put to it he could prove right here every
+law from those put forth by Newton to the present.
+
+It was still the material universe; that was certain. Therefor it
+was equally certain that the doctor had made a most prodigious
+discovery. But--what was it? What was the law that had fallen out
+of the Blind Spot?
+
+He gave it up, and stepped to one of the suite's numerous windows.
+They were all provided with clear glass. Now was his opportunity
+for an uninterrupted, leisurely survey of the world about him.
+
+As before, he noted the maze of splendid, dazzling opalescence,
+all the colours of the spectrum blending, weaving, vibrant, like a
+vast plain of smooth, Gargantuan jewels. Then he made out
+innumerable round domes, spread out in rows and in curves, without
+seeming order or system; BUILDINGS, every roof a perfect gleaming
+dome, its surface fairly alive with the reflected light of that
+amazing sun. Of such was the landscape made.
+
+As before, he could hear the incessant undertone of vague music,
+of rhythmical, shimmering and whispering sound. And the whole air
+was laden with the hint of sweet scents; tinged with the perfume
+of attar and myrrh--of a most delicate ambrosia.
+
+He opened the window.
+
+For a moment he stood still, the air bathing his face, the unknown
+fragrance filling his nostrils. The whole world seemed thrumming
+with that hitherto faint quiver of sound. Now it was resonant and
+strong, though still only an undertone. He looked below him; as he
+did so, something dropped from the side of the window opening--a
+long, delicate tendril, sinuous and alive. It touched his face,
+and then--It drooped, drooped like a wounded thing. He reached out
+his hand and plucked it, wondering. And he found, at its tip, a
+floating crimson blossom as delicate as the frailest cobweb, so
+inconceivably delicate that it wilted and crumbled at the
+slightest touch.
+
+Chick thrust his head out of the window. The whole building, from
+ground to dome, was covered--waving, moving, tenuous, a maze of
+colour--with orchids!
+
+He had never dreamed of anything so beautiful, or so splendid.
+Everywhere these orchids; to give them the name nearest to the
+unknown one. As far as he could see, living beauty!
+
+And then he noticed something stranger still.
+
+From the petals and the foliage about him, little clouds of colour
+wafted up, like mists of perfume, forever rising and
+intermittently settling. It was mysteriously harmonious,
+continuous--like life itself. Chick looked closer, and listened.
+And then he knew.
+
+These mists were clouds of tiny, multi-coloured insects.
+
+He looked down farther, into the streets. They were teeming with
+life, with motion. He was in a city whose size made it a true
+metropolis. All the buildings were large, and, although of
+unfamiliar architecture, undeniably of a refined, advanced art.
+Without exception, their roofs were domed. Hence the effect of a
+sea of bubbles.
+
+Directly below, straight down from his window, was a very broad
+street. From it at varying angles ran a number of intersecting
+avenues. The height of his window was great--he looked very
+closely, and made out two lines of colour lining and outlining the
+street surrounding the apartments.
+
+On the one side the line was blue, on the other crimson; they were
+guards. And where the various avenues intersected cables must have
+been stretched; for these streets were packed and jammed with a
+surging multitude, which the guards seemed engaged in holding
+back. As far up the avenues as Chick could see, the seething mass
+of fellow creatures extended, a gently pulsing vari-coloured
+potential commotion.
+
+As he looked one of the packed streets broke into confusion. He
+could see the guards wheeling and running into formation; from
+behind, other platoons rushed up reinforcements. The great crowd
+was rolling forward, breaking on the edge of the spear-armed
+guards like the surf of a rolling sea.
+
+Chick had a sudden thought. Were they not looking up at his
+window? He could glimpse arms uplifted and hands pointed. Even the
+guards, those held in reserve, looked up. Then--such was the
+distance--the rumble of the mob reached his ears; at the same
+time, spreading like a grass fire, the commotion broke out in
+another street, to another and another, until the air was filled
+with the new undertone of countless human tongues.
+
+Chick was fascinated. The thing was over-strange. While he looked
+and listened the whole scene turned to conflict; the voice of the
+throng became ominous. The guards still held the cables, still
+beat back the populace. Could they hold out, wondered Chick idly;
+and what was it all about?
+
+Something touched his shoulder. He wheeled. One of the tall, red-
+uniformed guards was standing beside him. Watson instinctively
+drew back, and as he did so the other stepped forward, touched the
+snap, and closed the window.
+
+"What's the idea? I was just getting interested!"
+
+The soldier nodded pleasantly, respectfully--reverently.
+
+"Orders from below, my lord. Were you to remain at that window it
+would take all the guards in the Mahovisal to keep back the
+Thomahlians."
+
+"Why?" Chick was astonished.
+
+"There are a million pilgrims in the city, my lord, who have
+waited months for just one glimpse of you."
+
+Watson considered. This was a new and a dazing aspect of the
+affair. Evidently the expression on his face told the soldier that
+some explanation would not be amiss.
+
+"The pilgrims are almost innumerable, my lord. They are all of the
+one great faith. They are, my lord, the true believers, the
+believers in the Day."
+
+The Day! Instantly Watson recalled Senestro's use of the
+expression. He sensed a valuable clue. He caught and held the
+soldier's eye.
+
+"Tell me," commanded Chick. "What is this Day of which you speak!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+AN ALLY, AND SOLID GROUND
+
+
+The soldier replied unhesitatingly: "It is the Day of Life, my
+lord. Others call it the 'first of the Sixteen Days.' Still
+others, simply the Day of the Prophet, or Jarados."
+
+"When will it be?"
+
+"Soon. It is but two days hence. And with the going down of the
+sun on that day the Fulfilment is to begin, and the Life is to
+come. Hence the crowd below, my lord; yet they are nothing
+compared with the crowds that today are pressing their way from
+all D'Hartia and Kospia towards the Mahovisal."
+
+"All because of the Day?"
+
+"And to see YOU, my lord."
+
+"All believers in the Jarados?"
+
+"All truly; but they do not all believe in your lordship. There
+are many sects, including the Bars, that consider you an imposter;
+but the rest--perhaps the most--believe you the Herald of the Day.
+All want to see you, for whatever motive."
+
+"These Bars; who are they?"
+
+"The military priesthood, my lord. As priests they teach a literal
+interpretation of the prophecy; as soldiers they maintain their
+own aggrandisement. To be more specific, my lord, it is they who
+accuse you of being one of the false ones."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it is written in the prophecy, my lord, that we may
+expect impostors, and that we are to slay them."
+
+"Then this coming contest with the Senestro--" beginning to sense
+the drift of things.
+
+"Yes, my lord; it will be a physical contest, in which the best
+man destroys the other!"
+
+The guard was a tall, finely made and truly handsome chap of
+perhaps thirty-five. Watson liked the clear blue of his eyes and
+the openness of his manner. At the same time he felt that he was
+being weighed and balanced.
+
+"My lord is not afraid?"
+
+"Not at all! I was just thinking--when does this kill take place?"
+
+"Two days hence, my lord; on the first of the Sixteen Sacred
+Days."
+
+And thus Chick found a staunch friend. The soldier's name, he
+learned, was "the Jan Lucar." He was supreme in command of the
+royal guards; and Chick soon came to feel that the man would as
+cheerfully lay down his life for him, Watson, as for the queen
+herself. All told, Chick was able to store away in his memory a
+few very important facts:
+
+First, that the Aradna did not like the Senestro.
+
+Second, that the Jan Lucar hated the great Bar because of the
+prince's ambition to wed the queen and her cousin, the Nervina;
+also because of his selfish, autocratic ways.
+
+Next, that were the Nervina on hand she would thwart the Senestro;
+for she was a very learned woman, as advanced as the Rhamda Avec
+himself. But that she was a queen first and a scholar afterwards;
+her motive in going through the Blind Spot was to take care of the
+political welfare of her people, her purposes were as high as
+Rhamda Avec's, but partook of statesmanship rather than
+spirituality.
+
+Finally, that the Rhamdas were perfectly willing for the coming
+contest to take place, on the evening of the Day of the Prophet,
+in the Temple of the Bell and Leaf.
+
+"Jan Lucar," Watson felt prompted to say, "you need have no fear
+as to the outcome of the ordeal, whatever it may be. With your
+faith in me, I cannot fail. For the present, I need books, papers,
+scientific data. Moreover, I want to see the outside of this
+building."
+
+The guardsman bowed. "The data is possible, my lord, but as to
+leaving the building--I must consult the queen and the Rhamda Geos
+first."
+
+"But I said MUST" Watson dared to say. "I must go out into your
+world, see your cities, your lands, rivers, mountains, before I do
+aught else. I must be sure!"
+
+The other bowed again. He was visibly impressed.
+
+"What you ask, my lord, is full of danger. You must not be seen in
+the streets--yet. Untold bloodshed would ensue inevitably. To half
+the Thomahlians you are sacred, and to the other half an impostor.
+I repeat, my lord, that I must see the Geos and the queen."
+
+Another bow and the Jan disappeared, to return in a few moments
+with the Geos.
+
+"The Jan has told me, my lord, that you would go out."
+
+"If possible. I want to see your world."
+
+"I think it can be arranged. Is your lordship ready to go?"
+
+"Presently." Watson laid a hand on the big globe he had already
+puzzled over. "This represents the Thomahlia?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"How long is your day, Geos?"
+
+"Twenty-four hours,"
+
+"I mean, how many revolutions in one circuit of the sun, in one
+year-circle?"
+
+As he uttered the question Chick held his breath. It had suddenly
+struck him that he had touched an extremely definite point. The
+answer might PLACE him!
+
+"You mean, my lord, how long is a circle in term of days?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Three hundred and sixty-five and a fraction, my lord."
+
+Watson was dumbfounded. Could there be, in all the universe,
+another world with precisely the same revolution period? But he
+could not afford to show his concern. He said:
+
+"Tell me, have you a moon?"
+
+"Yes; it has a cycle of about twenty-eight days."
+
+Watson drew a deep breath. Inconceivable though it appeared, he
+was still on his own earth. For a moment he pondered, wondering if
+he had been caught up in tangle of time-displacement. Could it be
+that, instead of living in the present, he had somehow become
+entangled in the past or in the future?
+
+If so--and by now he was so accustomed to the unusual that he
+considered this staggering possibility with equanimity--if the
+time coefficient was at fault, then how to account for the picture
+of the professor, in that leaf? Had they both been the victims of
+a ghastly cosmic joke?
+
+There was but one way to find out.
+
+"Come! Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+LOOKING DOWN
+
+
+Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room,
+one entire side of which was wide open to the outer air. It was
+filled by a number of queer, shining objects. At first glance
+Chick took them to be immense beetles.
+
+The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos:
+
+"We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec."
+
+Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran
+up to one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest
+noise he spun it gracefully around, running it out into the centre
+of the mosaic floor.
+
+"I presume," apologised the Geos, "that you have much finer
+aircraft in your world."
+
+Aircraft! Watson was all eagerness. He saw that the June Bug was
+about ten feet high, with a bunchy, buglike body. On closer
+scrutiny he could make out the outlines of wings folded tight
+against the sides. As for the material, it must have been metal,
+to use a term which does not explain very much, after all. In
+every respect the machine was a duplicate of some great insect,
+except that instead of legs it had well-braced rollers.
+
+"How does it operate?" Watson wanted to know. "That is, what power
+do you use, and how do you apply it?"
+
+The Jan Lucar threw back a plate. Watson looked inside, and saw a
+mass of fine spider-web threads, softer than the tips of rabbit's
+hair, all radiating from a central grey object about the size of a
+pea. Chick reached out to touch this thing with his finger.
+
+But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled
+him back.
+
+"Pardon me, my lord!" he exclaimed. "But you must not touch it!
+You--even you, would be annihilated!" Then to the Lucar: "Very
+well."
+
+Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a
+lever, perhaps. Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull
+red.
+
+"Now you may touch it," said the Geos.
+
+But Chick's desire had vanished. Instead he ventured a question:
+
+"All very interesting, but where is your machinery?"
+
+The Rhamda was slightly amused. He smiled a little. "You must give
+us a little credit, my lord. We must seem backward to you, but we
+have passed beyond reliance upon simple machines. That little grey
+pellet is, of course, our motive force; it is a highly refined
+mineral, which we mine in vast quantity. It has been in use for
+centuries. As for the hair-like web, that is our idea of a
+transmission."
+
+Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt.
+The other continued:
+
+"In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as
+possible. We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and
+instead tried to duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the
+birds and insects. We fly exactly as they do; our motive force is
+intrinsic. In some respects, we have improved upon life."
+
+"But it is still only a machine, Geos."
+
+"To be sure, my lord; only a machine. Anything without the life
+principle must remain so."
+
+The Jan Lucar pressed another catch, allowing another plate to
+lower and thereby disclose a glazed door, which opened into a cosy
+apartment fitted with wicker chairs, and large enough for four
+persons. There was some sort of control gear, which the Jan Lucar
+explained was not connected directly with the flying and steering
+members, but indirectly through the membranes of the web-like
+system. It was uncannily similar to the nervous connections of the
+cerebellum with the various parts of the anatomy of an insect.
+
+"Does it travel very fast?"
+
+"We think so, my lord. This is the private machine of the Rhamda
+Avec. It is rather small, but the swiftest machine in the
+Thomahlia."
+
+They entered the compartment, Watson took his seat beside the
+Geos, while the soldier sat forward next to the control elements.
+He laid his hands on certain levers; next instant, the machine was
+gliding noiselessly over the mosaic, on to a short incline and
+thence, with ever increasing speed, toward and through the open
+side of the room.
+
+The slides had all been thrown back; the compartment was enclosed
+only in glass. Watson could get a clear view, and he was amazed at
+the speed of the craft. Before he could think they were out in
+mid-air and ascending skyward. Travelling on a steep slant, there
+was no vibration, no mechanical noise; scarcely the suggestion of
+movement, except for the muffled swish of the air.
+
+Were it not for the receding city below him, Chick could have
+imagined himself sitting in a house while a windstorm tore by. He
+felt no change in temperature or any other ill effects; the cabin
+was fully enclosed, and heated by some invisible means. In short,
+ideal flight: for instance, the seats were swung on gimbals, so
+that no matter at what angle the craft might fly, the passengers
+would maintain level positions.
+
+Below stretched the Mahovisal--a mighty city of domes and plazas,
+and, widely scattered, a few minarets. At the southern end there
+was a vast, square plaza, covering thousands of acres. Toward it,
+on two sides, converged scores of streets; they stretched away
+from it like the ribs of a giant fan. On the remaining two sides
+there was a tremendously large building with a V-shaped front,
+opening on the square. The play of opal light on its many-bubbled
+roof resembled the glimmer from a vast pearl.
+
+In the air above the city an uncountable number of very small
+objects darted hither and thither like sparkling fireflies. It was
+difficult to realise that they, too, were aircraft.
+
+To the west lay an immense expanse of silver, melting smoothly
+into the horizon. Watson took it to be the Thomahlian ocean. Then
+he looked up at the sky directly above him, and breathed a quick
+exclamation.
+
+It was a single, small object, perfectly white, dropping out of
+the amethyst. Tiny at first, amost instantly it assumed a
+proportion nearly colossal--a great bird, white as the breast of
+the snowdrift, swooping with the grace of the eagle and the speed
+of the wind. It was so very large that it seemed, to Chick, that
+if all the other birds he had ever known were gathered together
+into one they would still be as the swallow. Down, down it came in
+a tremendous spiral, until it gracefully alighted in a splash of
+molten colour on the bosom of the silver sea. For a moment it was
+lost in a shower of water jewels--and then lay still, a swan upon
+the ocean.
+
+"What is it, Geos?"
+
+"The Kospian Limited, my lord. One of our great airships--a fast
+one, we consider it."
+
+"It must accommodate a good many people, Rhamda."
+
+"About nine thousand."
+
+"You say it comes from Kospia. How far away is that?"
+
+"About six thousand miles. It is an eight-hour run, with one stop.
+Just now the service is every fifteen minutes. They are coming, of
+course, for the Day of the Prophet."
+
+Watson continued to watch the great airship, noting the swarm of
+smaller craft that came out from the Mahovisal to greet it, until
+the Jan Lucar suddenly altered the course. They stopped climbing,
+and struck out on a horizontal level. It left the Mahovisal behind
+them, a shimmering spot of fire beside the gleaming sea. They were
+travelling eastwards. The landscape below was level and unvaried,
+of a greenish hue, and much like that of Chick's own earth in the
+early spring-time--a vast expanse, level and sometimes dotted with
+opalescent towns and cities. Ribbons of silver cut through the
+plain at intervals, crookedly lazy and winding, indicating a
+drainage from north to south or vice versa. Looking back to the
+west, he could see the great, golden sun, poised as he had seen it
+that morning, a huge amber plate on the rim of the world. It was
+sunset.
+
+Then Chick looked straight ahead. Far in the distance a great wall
+loomed skyward to a terrific height. So vast was it and so remote,
+at first it had escaped the eye altogether. An incredibly high
+range of mountains, glowing with a faint rose blush under the
+touch of the setting sun. Against the sky were many peaks, each of
+them tipped with curious and sparkling diamond-like corruscations.
+As Chick continued to gaze the rose began to purple.
+
+The Jan Lucar put the craft to another upward climb. So high were
+they now that the Thomahlia below was totally lost from view; it
+was but a maze of lurking shadows. The sun was only a gash of
+amber--it was twilight down on the ground. And Watson watched the
+black line of the Thomahlian shadow climb the purple heights
+before him until only the highest crests and the jewelled crags
+flashed in the sun's last rays. Then, one by one, they flickered
+out; and all was darkness.
+
+Still they ascended. Watson became uneasy, sitting there in the
+night.
+
+"Where are we going?"
+
+"To the Carbon Regions, my lord. It is one of the sights of the
+Thomahlia."
+
+"On top of those mountains?"
+
+"Beyond, my lord."
+
+Whereupon, to Chick's growing amazement, the Geos went on to state
+that carbon of all sorts was extremely common throughout their
+world. The same forces that had formed coal so generously upon the
+earth had thrown up, almost as lavishly, huge quantities of pure
+diamond. The material was of all colours, as diamonds run, and
+considered of small value; for every day purposes they preferred
+substances of more sombre hues. They used it, it seemed, to build
+houses with.
+
+"But how do they cut it?"
+
+"Very easily. The material which drives this craft--Ilodium--will
+cut it like butter."
+
+Later, Watson understood. He watched as the craft continued to
+climb; the Jan Lucar was steering without the aid of any outside
+lights whatever, there being only a small light illuminating his
+instruments. Chick presently turned his gaze outside again;
+whereupon he got another jolt.
+
+He saw a NEGATIVE sky!
+
+At first he thought his eyes the victims of an illusion; then he
+looked closer. And he saw that it was true; instead of the
+familiar starry points of light against a velvet background, the
+arrangement was just the reverse. Every constellation was in its
+place, just as Chick remembered it from the earth; but instead of
+stars there were jet-black spots upon a faint, grey background.
+
+The whole sky was one huge Milky Way, except for the black spots.
+And from it all there shone just about as much total light as from
+the heavens he had known.
+
+Of all he experienced, this was the most disturbing. It seemed
+totally against all reason; for he knew the stars to be great
+incandescent globes in space. How explain that they were here
+represented in reverse, their brilliance scattered and diffused
+over the surrounding sky, leaving points of blackness instead?
+Afterward he learned that the peculiar chemical constituency of
+the atmosphere was solely responsible for the inversion of the
+usual order of things.
+
+All of a sudden the Jan Lucar switched the craft to a level. He
+held up one hand and pointed.
+
+"Look, my lord, and the Rhamda! Look!"
+
+Both men rose from their seats, the better to stare past the
+soldier. Straight ahead, where had been one of the corruscating
+peaks, a streak of blue fire shot skyward, a column of light miles
+high, differing from the beams of a searchlight in that the rays
+were WAVY, serpentine, instead of straight. It was weirdly
+beautiful. Geos caught his breath; he leaned forward and touched
+the Jan Lucar.
+
+"Wait," he said in an awed tone. "Wait a moment. It has never come
+before, but we can expect it now." And even as he spoke, something
+wonderful happened.
+
+From the base of the column two other streaks, one red and the
+other bright green, cut out through the blackness on either side.
+The three streams started from the same point; they made a sort of
+trident, red, green, and blue--twisting, alive--strangely
+impressive, suggestive of grandeur and omnipotence--holy.
+
+Again the Rhamda spoke. "Wait!" said he. "Wait!"
+
+They were barely moving now. Watson watched and wondered. The
+three streams of light ran up and up, as though they would pierce
+the heavens; the eye could not follow their ends. All in utter
+silence, nothing but those beams of glorified light, their reality
+a hint of power, of life and wisdom--of the certainty of things.
+Plainly it had a tremendous significance in the minds of the Geos
+and the Lucar.
+
+Then came the climax. Slowly, but somehow inexorably, like the
+laws of life itself, and somewhere at a prodigious height above
+the earth, the three outer ends of the red and the green and the
+blue spread out and flared back upon themselves and one another,
+until their combined brilliance bridged a great rainbow across the
+sky. Blending into all the colours of the prism, the bow became--
+for a moment--pregnant with an overpowering beauty, symbolical,
+portentous of something stupendous about to come out of the
+unknown to the Thomahlians. And next--
+
+The bow began to move, to swirl, and to change in shape and
+colour. The three great rivers of light billowed and expanded and
+rounded into a new form. Then they burst--into a vast, three-
+leafed clover--blue and red and green!
+
+And Watson caught the startled words of the Geos:
+
+"The Sign of the Jarados!"
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+THE VOICE FROM THE VOID
+
+
+Even while that inexplicable heavenly pageant still burned against
+the heavens, something else took place, a thing of much greater
+importance to Chick. And, it happened right before his eyes.
+
+In the front of the car was a dial, slightly raised above the
+level of the various controlling instruments. And all of a sudden
+this dial, a small affair about six inches across, broke into
+light and life.
+
+First, there was a white blaze that covered the whole disc; then
+the whiteness abruptly gave way to a flood of colour, which
+resolved itself into a perfect miniature of the tri-coloured
+cloverleaf in the sky ahead. Chick saw, however that the positions
+of the red and green were just the obverse of what glowed in the
+distance; and then he heard the voice, strong and distinct,
+speaking with a slight metallic twang as from a microphone hidden
+in that little, blazing, coloured leaf:
+
+"Listen, ye who have ears to listen!"
+
+It was said in the Thomahlian tongue. The Geos breathed:
+
+"The voice of the Prophet Jarados!"
+
+But the next moment the unseen speaker began in another language--
+clear, silver, musical--in English, and in a voice that Chick
+recognised!
+
+"Chick! You have done well, my boy. Your courage and your
+intuition may lead us out. Follow the prophecy to the letter,
+Chick; it MUST come to pass, exactly as it is written! Don't fail
+to read it, there on the walls of the Temple of the Bell, when you
+encounter the Bar Senestro on the Day of the Prophet!
+
+"I have discovered many things, my boy, but I am not omnipotent.
+Your coming has made possible my last hope that I may return to my
+own kind, and take with me the secrets of life. You have done
+right to trust your instinct; have no fear, yet remember that if
+you--if we--make one false step we are lost.
+
+"Finally, if you should succeed in your contest with the Senestro,
+I shall send for you; but if you fail, I know how to die.
+
+"Return at once to the Mahovisal. Don't cross into the Region of
+Carbon. Take care how you go back; the Bars are waiting. But you
+can put full confidence in the Rhamdas."
+
+Then the speaker dropped the language of the earth and used the
+Thomahlian tongue again: "It is I who speak--I, the Prophet; the
+Prophet Jarados!"
+
+All in the voice of Dr. Holcomb.
+
+The blazing leaf faded into blackness, and the talking ceased.
+Chick was glad of the darkness; the whole thing was like magic,
+and too good to believe. The first actual words from the missing
+professor! Each syllable was frozen into Watson's memory.
+
+The Geos was clutching his arm.
+
+"Did you understand, my lord? We heard the voice of the prophet!
+What did he say?"
+
+"Yes, I understand. He used his own language--my language. And he
+said"--taking the reins firmly into his hands--"he said that we
+must return to the Thomahlia. And we must beware of the Bars."
+
+There was no thought of questioning him. Without waiting the Geos'
+command, the Jan Lucar began putting the craft about. Watson
+glanced at the sky; the great spectacle was gone; and he demanded
+of the soldier:
+
+"How can we get back? How do we find our way?"
+
+For there was no visible light save the strange, fitful glow from
+that uncanny sky to guide them; no lights from the inky carpet of
+the Thomahlia, lights such as one would expect for the benefit of
+fliers. But the soldier touched a button, and instantly another
+and larger dial was illumined above the instruments.
+
+It revealed a map or chart of a vast portion of the Thomahlia. On
+the farther edge there appeared an area coloured to represent
+water, and adjoining this area was a square spot labeled "The
+Mahovisal." And about midway from this point to the near edge of
+the dial a red dot hung, moving slowly over the chart.
+
+"The red dot, my lord, indicates our position," explained the Jan.
+"In that manner we know at all times where we are located, and
+which way we are flying. We shall arrive in the Mahovisal
+shortly."
+
+As he spoke the craft was gaining speed, and soon was travelling
+at an even greater rate than before. The red dot began to crawl at
+an astonishing speed. Of course, they had the benefit of the pull
+of gravity, now; apparently they would make the journey in a few
+minutes. But incredible though the speed might be, there was
+nothing but the red dot to show it.
+
+The Geos felt like talking. "My lord, the sign is conclusive. It
+is a marvel, such as only the prophet could possibly have
+produced; with all our science we could not duplicate such
+splendour. Only once before has the Thomahlia seen it."
+
+Already they were near enough to the surface to make out the
+clustered, blinking lights of the towns on the plain below. Ahead
+of them queer streamers of pale rays thrust through the darkness.
+Watson recognised them as the beams of the far-distant
+searchlights; and then and there he gave thanks for one thing, at
+least, in which the Thomahlians had seemingly progressed no
+further than the people of the earth.
+
+Coming a little nearer, Chick made out a number of bright,
+glittering, insect-like objects, revealed by these searchlights.
+The Jan Lucar said:
+
+"The Bars, my lord. They are waiting; and they will head us off if
+they can."
+
+"The work of Senestro, I suppose. I thought he claimed to some
+honour."
+
+"It is not the prince's work, my lord," replied the soldier. "His
+D'Hartian and Kospian followers, some of them, have no scruples as
+to how they might slay the 'false one', as they think you."
+
+"Suppose," hazarded Watson, "suppose I WERE the false one?"
+
+Both the Geos and the Jan smiled. But the Rhamda's voice was very
+sure as he replied:
+
+"If you were false, my lord, I would slay you myself."
+
+They were very near the Mahovisal now. Below was the unmistakable
+opalescence, somehow produced by powerful illumination, as intense
+as sunlight itself. The red dot was almost above the black square
+on the lighted chart. And directly ahead, the air was becoming
+alive with the beam-revealed aircraft. How could they get by in
+safety?
+
+But Chick did not know the Jan Lucar. The soldier said:
+
+"My lord is not uneasy?"
+
+"Of course not," with unconcern. "Why?"
+
+"Because I propose something daring. I am free to admit, my lord,
+that were the Geos and I alone, I should not attempt it. But not
+even the Bars," with magnificent confidence, "can stand before us
+now! We have had the proof of the Jarados, and we know that no
+matter what the odds, he will carry us through."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"I propose to shoot it, my lord." And without explaining the Jan
+asked the Geos: "Are you agreeable? The June Bug will hold; the
+prophet will protect us."
+
+"Surely," returned the Rhamda. "There is nothing to fear, now, for
+those who are in the company of the chosen."
+
+Watson wondering watched the Jan as he tilted the nose of the June
+Bug and began to climb at an all but perpendicular angle straight
+into the heavens. Mile after mile, in less than as many minutes,
+they hurtled towards the zenith, so that the lights of the city
+dimmed until only the searching shafts could be seen. Chick began
+to guess what they were going to do; that the Jan Lucar was nearly
+as reckless as he was handsome.
+
+At last the soldier brought the craft to a level. They soared
+along horizontally for a while; the Jan kept his eye fixed on the
+red dot. And when it was directly above the black square he
+stated:
+
+"It is considered a perilous feat, my lord. We are going to drop.
+If we make it from this height, not only will we break all
+records, but will have proved the June Bug the superior in this
+respect, as she is in speed. It is our only chance in any
+circumstances, but with the Jarados at our side, we need not fear
+that the craft will stand the strain. We shall go through them
+like stone; before they know it we shall be in the drome--in less
+than a minute."
+
+"From this height?" Chick concealed a shudder behind a fair show
+of scepticism. "A minute is not much time."
+
+"Does my lord fear the drop?"
+
+"Why should I? I have in mind the June Bug; she might be set afire
+through friction, in dropping so quickly through the air." Watson
+had a vivid picture of a blazing meteorite, containing the charred
+bodies of three men, dropping out of--
+
+"My lord need not be concerned with that," the Jan assured him.
+"The shell of the car is provided with a number of tiny pores,
+through which a heat-resisting fluid will be pumped during the
+manoeuvre. The temperature may be raised a little, but no more.
+
+"You see this plug," touching a hitherto unused knob among the
+instruments. "By pulling that out, the mechanism of the craft is
+automatically adjusted to care for every phase of the descent.
+Nothing else remains to be done, after removing that plug, save to
+watch the red dot and prepare to step out upon the floor of our
+starting-place."
+
+"Has the thing ever been done before?" Watson was sparring for
+time while he gathered his nerve.
+
+"I myself have seen it, my lord. The June Bug has been sent up
+many times, weighted with ballast; the plug was abstracted by
+clockwork; and in fifty-eight seconds she returned through the
+open end of the drone, without a hitch. It was beautiful. I have
+always envied her that plunge. And now I shall have the chance,
+with the hand of the Jarados as my guide and protector!"
+
+Chick had just time to reflect that, if by any chance he got
+through with this, he ought to be able to pass any test
+conceivable. He ought to be able to get away with anything. He
+started to murmur a prayer; but before he could finish, the Jan
+Lucar leaned over the dial-map for the last time, saw that the red
+dot was now exactly central over the square that represented the
+city, and unhesitatingly jerked out the plug.
+
+Of what happened next Watson remembered but little. The bottom
+seemed to have dropped out of the universe. He was conscious of a
+crushing blur of immensity, of a silent thundering within him--
+then mental chaos and a stunned oblivion.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+WHO IS THE JARADOS?
+
+
+It was all over. Chick opened his eyes to see the Jan throwing
+open the plate on the side of the compartment. Neither the soldier
+nor the Rhamda seemed to have noted Chick's daze. As for the Jan,
+his blue eyes were dancing with dare-devilry.
+
+"That's what I call living!" he grinned. "They can keep on looking
+for the June Bug all night!"
+
+Chick looked out. They were inside the great room from which they
+had started; the trip was over; the plunge had been made in
+safety. Chick took a long breath, and held out a hand.
+
+"A man after my own heart, Jan Lucar. I foresee that we may have
+great sport with the Senestro."
+
+"Aye, my lord," cheerfully. "The presumptuous usurper! I only wish
+I could kill him, instead of you."
+
+"You are not the only one," commented the Rhamda. "Half of the
+Rhamdas would cheerfully act as the chosen one's proxy."
+
+And so ended the events of Chick Watson's first day beyond the
+Blind Spot, his first day on the Thomahlia; that is, disregarding
+the previous months of unconsciousness. He had good reason to pass
+a sleepless night in legitimate worry for the outcome of it all;
+but instead he slept the sound sleep of exhaustion, awakening the
+next morning much refreshed.
+
+He reminded himself, first of all, that today was the one
+immediately preceding that of his test--the Day of the Prophet. He
+had only a little more than twenty-four hours to prepare. What was
+the best and wisest proceeding?
+
+He called for the Geos. He told him what data he wanted. The
+Rhamda said that he could find everything in a library in that
+building, and inside a half-hour he returned with a pile of
+manuscripts.
+
+Left to himself, Chick found that he now had data relating to all
+the sciences, to religion, to education and political history and
+the law. The chronology of the Thomahlians, Chick found, dates
+back no less than fifteen thousand years. An abiding civilisation
+of that antiquity, it need not be said, presented somewhat
+different aspects from what is known on the earth.
+
+It seemed that the Jarados had come miraculously. That is, he had
+come out of the unknown, through a channel which he himself later
+termed the Spot of Life.
+
+He had taught a religion of enlightenment, embracing intelligence,
+love, virtue, and the higher ethics such as are inherent in all
+great philosophies. But he did not call himself a religionist.
+That was the queer point. He said that he had come to teach an
+advanced philosophy of life; and he expressly stated that his
+teachings were absolute only to a limited extent.
+
+"Man must seek and find," was one of his epigrams; "and if he find
+no more truths, then he will find lies." Which was merely a
+negative way of saying that some of his philosophy was only
+provisional.
+
+But on some points he was adamant. He had arrived at a time when
+the unthinking, self-glorifying Thomahlians had all but
+exterminated the lower orders of creation. The Jarados sought to
+remove the handicap which the people had set upon themselves, and
+gave them, in the place of kindness which they had forgotten, how
+to use, a burning desire for a positive knowledge, where before
+had been only blind faith. Also, he taught good-fellowship, as a
+means to this end. He taught beauty, love, and laughter, the three
+great cleansers of humanity. And yet, through it all--
+
+The Jarados was a mystic.
+
+He studied life after a manner of his own. He was a stickler for
+getting down to the very heart of things, for prodding around
+among causes until he found the cause itself. And thus he learned
+the secret of the occult.
+
+For so he taught. And presently the Jarados was recognized as an
+authority on what the Thomahlia called "the next world." Only he
+showed that death, instead of being an ushering into a void, was
+merely a translation onto another plane of life, a higher plane
+and a more glorious one. In short, a thing to be desired and
+attained, not to be avoided.
+
+This put the Spot of Life on an entirely different basis. No
+longer was it a fearsome thing. The Jarados elevated death to the
+plane of motherhood--something to glory in. And Chick gathered
+that his famous prophecy--which he had yet to read, where it hung
+on the wall of the temple--gave every detail of the Jarados'
+profound convictions and teachings regarding the mystery of the
+next life.
+
+And now comes a curious thing. As Chick read these details, he
+became more and more conscious of--what shall it be called?--the
+presence of someone or something beside him, above and all about
+him, watching his every movement. He could not get away from the
+feeling, although it was broad daylight, and he was seemingly
+quite alone in the room. Chick was not frightened; but he could
+have sworn that a very real personality was enveloping his own as
+he read.
+
+Every word, somehow, reminded him of the miraculous sequence of
+facts as he knew them; the unerring accuracy with which he, quite
+unthinkingly and almost without volition, had solved problem after
+problem, although the chances were totally against him. He became
+more and more convinced that he himself had practically no control
+over his affairs; that he was in the hands of an irresistible
+Fate; and that--he could not help it--his good angel was none
+other than the prophet who, almost ninety centuries ago, had lived
+and taught upon the Thomahlia, and in the end had returned to the
+unknown.
+
+But how could such a thing be? Watson did not even know where he
+was! Small wonder that, again and again, he felt the need of
+assurance. He asked for the Jan Lucar.
+
+"In the first place," began Chick without preamble, "you accept
+me, Jan Lucar; do you not?"
+
+"Absolutely, my lord."
+
+"You conceive me to be out of the spiritual world, and yet flesh
+and blood like yourself?"
+
+"Of course," with flat conviction.
+
+That settled it. Watson decided to find out something he had not
+had time to locate in the library.
+
+"The Rhamda may have told you, Jan Lucar, that I am here to seek
+the Jarados. Now, I suspect the Senestro. Can you imagine what he
+has done to the prophet?"
+
+"My lord," remonstrated the other, "daring as the Bar might be, he
+could do nothing to the Jarados. He would not dare."
+
+"Then he is afraid to run counter to the prophecy?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; that is, its literal interpretation. He is opposed
+only to the broader version as held by such liberals as the Rhamda
+Avec. The Bars are always warning the people against the false
+one."
+
+"And the Senestro is at their head," mused Chick aloud. "This
+brother of his who died--usually there are two such princes and
+chiefs?"
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"And the Senestro plans to marry both queens, according to the
+custom!"
+
+"My lord"--and the Jan suddenly snapped erect--"the Bar will do
+exceedingly well if he succeeds in marrying one of them! Certainly
+he shall never have the Aradna--not while I live and can fight!"
+
+"Good! How about the Nervina?"
+
+"He'll do well to find her first!"
+
+"True enough. What would you say was his code of honour?"
+
+"My lord, the Senestro actually has no code. He believes in
+nothing. He is so constituted, mentally and morally, that he cares
+for and trusts in none but himself. He is a sceptic pure and
+simple; he cares nothing for the Jarados and his teachings. He is
+an opportunist seeking for power, wicked, lustful, cruel--"
+
+"But a good sportsman!"
+
+"In what way, my lord?"
+
+"Didn't he allow me the choice of combat?"
+
+The Jan laughed, but his handsome face could not hide his
+contempt.
+
+"It is ever so with a champion, my lord. He has never been
+defeated in a matter of physical prowess. It would be far more to
+his glory to overcome you in combat of your own selection. It will
+be spectacular--he knows the value of dramatic climax--and he
+would kill you in a moment, before a million Thomahlians."
+
+"It's a nice way to die," said Watson. "You must grant that much."
+
+"I don't know of any nice way to die, my lord. But it is a good
+way of living--to kill the Bar Senestro. I would that I could have
+the honour."
+
+"How does it come that the Rhamdas, superintellectual as they are,
+can consent to such a contest? Is it not degrading, to their way
+of thinking? It smacks of barbarism."
+
+"They do not look upon it in that light, my lord. Our civilisation
+has passed beyond snobbery. Of course there was a time, centuries
+ago when we were taught that any physical contest was brutal. But
+that was before we knew better."
+
+"You don't believe it now?"
+
+"By no means, my lord. The most wonderful physical thing in the
+Thomahlia is the human body. We do not hide it. We admire beauty,
+strength, prowess. The live body is above all art; it is the work
+of God himself; art is but an imitation. And there is nothing so
+splendid as a physical contest--the lightning correlation of mind
+and body. It is a picture of life."
+
+"Do the Rhamdas think this?"
+
+"Most assuredly. A Rhamda is always first an athlete."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Perfection, my lord. A perfect mind does not always dwell in a
+perfect body, but they strive for it as much as possible. The
+first test of a Rhamda is his body. After he passes that he must
+take the mental test."
+
+"Mental?"
+
+"Moral first. The most rigid, perhaps of all; he must be a man
+above suspicion. The honour of a Rhamda must never be questioned.
+He must be upright and absolutely unselfish. He must be broad-
+minded, human, lovable, and a leader of men. After that, my lord,
+comes the intellectual test."
+
+"He must be a learned man?"
+
+"Not exactly, your lordship. There are many very learned men who
+could not be Rhamdas; and there are many who have had no learning
+at all who eventually were admitted. The qualifications are
+intellectual, not educational; the mind is put to a rigid test. It
+is examined for alertness, perception, memory, reason, emotion,
+and control. There is no greater honour in all the Thomahlia."
+
+"And they are all athletes?"
+
+"Every one, my lord. In all the world there is no finer body of
+men, I myself would hesitate before entering a match with even the
+old Rhamda Geos."
+
+"How about the Rhamda Avec?"
+
+"Nor he, either; in the gymnasium he was always the superior, just
+as he topped all others morally and mentally."
+
+Did this explain the Avec's physical prowess, on the one hand, and
+the fact that he would not stoop to take that ring by force, on
+the other?
+
+"Just one more thing, Jan Lucar. You have absolutely no fear that
+I may fail tomorrow?"
+
+"Not the slightest, my lord. You cannot fail!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I have already said--because you are from the Jarados."
+
+And Chick, facing the greatest experience of his life, submerged
+in a sea wherein only a few islands of fact were visible, had to
+be content with this: his only friends were those who were firmly
+convinced of something which, he knew only too well, was a flat
+fraud! All this backing was based upon a misled faith.
+
+No, not quite. Was there not that strange feeling that the Jarados
+himself was at his back? And had he not found that the prophet had
+been real? Did he not feel, as positively as he felt anything,
+that the Jarados was still a reality?
+
+Chick went to bed that night with a light heart.
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+THE TEMPLE OF THE BELL
+
+
+It was hard for Chick to remember all the details of that great
+day. Throughout all the morning and afternoon he remained in his
+apartments. Breakfast over, the Rhamdas told him his part in
+certain ceremonies, such as need not be detailed here. They were
+very solicitous as to his food and comfort, and as to his feelings
+and anticipations. His nonchalance pleased them greatly. Afterward
+he had a bath and rub-down.
+
+A combat to the death, was it to be? Suits me, thought Watson. He
+was never in finer form.
+
+The Jan Lucar was particularly interested. He pinched and stroked
+Chick's muscles with the caressing pride of a connoisseur. Watson
+stepped out of the fountain bath in all the vigour of health. He
+playfully reached out for the Lucar and tripped him up. He sought
+to learn just what the Thomahlians knew in the art of self-
+defence.
+
+The brief struggle that ensued taught him that he need expect no
+easy conquest. The Jan was quick, active and the possessor of a
+science peculiarly effective. The Thomahlians did not box in the
+manner of the Anglo-Saxons; their mode was peculiar. Chick foresaw
+that he would be compelled to combine the methods of three kinds
+of combat: boxing, ju-jitsu, and the good old catch-as-catch-can
+wrestling. If the Senestro were superior to the Jan, he would have
+a time indeed. Though Watson conquered, he could not but concede
+that the Jan was not only clever but scientific to an oily,
+bewildering degree. The Lucar paused.
+
+"Enough, my lord! You are a man indeed. Do not overdo; save
+yourself for the Senestro."
+
+Clothes were brought, and Chick taken back to his apartment. The
+time passed with Rhamdas constantly at his side.
+
+The Geos was not present, nor the little queen. Chick sought
+permission to sit by the window--permission that was granted after
+the guards had placed screens that would withhold any view from
+outside, yet permit Chick to look out.
+
+As far as he could see, the avenues were packed with people. Only,
+this time the centres of the streets were clear; on the curbs he
+could see the opposing lines of the blue and crimson, holding back
+the waiting thousands. In the distance he could hear chimes, faint
+but distinct, like silver bells tinkling over water.
+
+At intervals rose strange choruses of weird, holy music. The full
+sweep of the city's domes and minarets was spread out before him.
+From eaves to basements the rolling luxuriance of orchidian
+beauty; banners, music, parade; a day of pageant, pomp, and
+fulfilment.
+
+He could catch the excitement in the air, the strange, laden
+undercurrent of spiritual salvation-something esoteric,
+undefinable, the ecstasy of a million souls pulsing to the throb
+of a supreme moment. He drew back, someone had touched him.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+It was one of the Rhamdas. He had in his hand a small metal
+clover, of the design of the Jarados.
+
+"What do I do?" asked Watson.
+
+"This," said the Rhamda, "was sent to you by one of the Bars."
+
+"By a Bar! What does it mean?"
+
+The other shook his head. "It was sent to you by one who wished it
+to be known by us that he is your friend, even though a Bar."
+
+Just then Watson noted something sticking out of the edge of one
+of the clover leaves. He pulled it out. It was a piece of paper.
+On it were scrawled words IN ENGLISH.
+
+The writing was pencil script, done in a poor hand and ill-spelled,
+but still English. Chick read:
+
+"Be of good cheer; there ain't a one in this world that can top a
+lad from Frisco. And it's Pat MacPherson that says it. Yer the
+finest laddie that ever got beyond the old Witch of Endor. You and
+me, if we hold on, is just about goin' to play hell with the
+haythen. Hold on and fight like the divil! Remember that Pat is
+with ye!
+
+"We're both spooks.
+
+"PAT MACPHERSON"
+
+Said Watson: "Who gave you this? Did you see the man?"
+
+"It was sent up my lord. The man was a high Bar in the Senestro's
+guard."
+
+Watson could not understand this. Was it possible that there were
+others in this mysterious region besides himself? At any rate, he
+wasn't wholly alone. He felt that he could count upon the
+Irishman--or was this fellow Scotch? Anyhow, such a man would find
+the quick means of wit at a crucial moment.
+
+Suddenly Watson noted a queer feeling of emptiness. He looked out
+of the window. The music had ceased, and the incessant hum of the
+throngs had deadened to silence. It was suspended, awesome,
+threatening. At the same time, the Jan Lucar came to attention, at
+the opposite door stood the Rhamda Geos, black clad, surrounded by
+a group of his fellows.
+
+"Come, my lord," he said.
+
+The crimson guard fell in behind Watson, the black-gowned took
+their places ahead, and the Jan Lucar and the Geos walked on
+either side. They stepped out into the corridor. By the indicator
+of a vertical clock, Chick noted that it was nine. He did not know
+the day of the year other than from the Thomahlian calendar; but
+he knew that it was close to sunset. He did not ask where they
+were going; there was no need. The very solemnity of his
+companions told him more than their answers would have. In a
+moment they were in the streets.
+
+Watson had thought that they would be taken by aircraft, or that
+they would pass through the building. He did not know that it was
+a concession to the Bar Senestro; that the Senestro was but
+playing a bit of psychology that is often practised by lesser
+champions. If Watson's nerve was not broken it was simply because
+of the iron indifference of confident health. Chick had never been
+defeated. He had no fear. He was far more curious as to the scenes
+and events about him than he was of the outcome. He was hoping for
+some incident that would link itself up into explanation.
+
+At the door a curious car of graceful lines was waiting, an odd
+affair that might be classed as a cross between a bird and a
+gondola, streaming with colours and of magnificent workmanship and
+design. On the deck of this the three men took their places; on
+the one side the Rhamda Geos, tall, sombre, immaculate; on the
+other, the magnificent Jan Lucar in the gorgeous crimson uniform,
+gold-braided and studded with jewels; on his head he wore the
+shako of purple down, and by his side a peculiar black weapon
+which he wore much in the manner of a sword.
+
+In the centre, Watson--bareheaded, his torso bare and his arms
+naked. He had been given a pair of soft sandals, and a short suit,
+whose one redeeming feature in his eyes was a pocket into which he
+had thrust the automatic that he valued so much. It was more like
+a picture of Rome than anything else. Whatever the civilisation of
+the Thomahlians, their ritual in Watson's eyes smacked still of
+barbarism.
+
+But he was intensely interested in all about him. The avenues were
+large. On either side the guards were drawn up eight deep, holding
+back the multitude that pressed and jostled with the insistence of
+curiosity. He looked into the myriad faces; about him, splendid
+features, of intelligent man and women.
+
+Not one face suggested the hideous; the women were especially
+beautiful, and, from what he could see, finely formed and
+graceful. Many of them smiled; he could hear the curious buzz of
+conjecturing whispers. Some were indifferent, while others, from
+the expression of their faces, were openly hostile.
+
+Chick was in the middle of a procession, the Rhamdas marching
+before and the crimson guard bringing up the rear. A special
+guard: the inner one, Rhamdas, the outer one of crimson
+surrounding them all.
+
+The car started. There was no trace of friction; it was noiseless,
+automatic. Chick could only conjecture as to its mechanism. The
+black column of Rhamdas moved ahead rhythmically, with the swing
+of solemn grandeur. For some minutes they marched through the
+streets of the Mahovisal. There was no cheering; it was a holy,
+awesome occasion. Chick could sense the undercurrent of the
+staring thousands, the reverence and the piety. It was the Day of
+the Prophet. They were staring at a miracle.
+
+The column turned a corner. For the first time Watson was
+staggered by sheer immensity; for the first time he felt what it
+might be to see with the eyes of an insect. Had he been an ant
+looking up at the columns of Karnak, he would still have been out
+of proportion. It was immense, colossal, beyond man. It was of the
+omnipotent--the pillared portal of the Temple of the Bell.
+
+Such a building a genius might dream of, in a moment of
+unhampered, inspired imagination. It was stupendous. The pillars
+were hexagonal in shape, and in diameter each of about the size of
+an ordinary house. Dropping from an immense height, it seemed as
+if they had originally poured out in the form of molten metal from
+immense bell-like flares that fell from the vaulted architrave.
+Such was the design.
+
+Chick got the impression that the top of the structure, somehow,
+was not supported by the foundation, but rather the reverse--the
+floor was suspended from the ceiling. It was the work of the
+Titans--so high and stupendous that at the first instant Watson
+felt numb with insignificance. What chance had he against men of
+such colossal conception.
+
+How large the building was he could not see. The Gargantuan facade
+itself was enough to smother comprehension. It was laid out in the
+form of a triangle, one end of which was open towards the city;
+the two sections of the facade met under a huge, arched opening--
+the door itself. Watson recognised the structure as the one he had
+seen from the June Bug on the outskirts of the Mahovisal. The
+enormous plaza was packed with people, leaving only a narrow lane
+for the procession; and as far back as Chick could see crowds in
+the streets converged towards this vast space. Their numbers were
+incalculable.
+
+The car stopped. The guards, both crimson and blue, formed a
+twenty-fold cordon. Watson could feel the suspended breath of the
+waiting multitude. The three men stepped out--the Geos first, then
+the Jan Lucar, and Watson last. Chick caught the Lucar's eye; it
+was confident; the man was springing with vigour, jovial in spite
+of the moment.
+
+They passed between two of the huge pillars, and under the giant
+arch. For a few minutes they walked through what seemed, to Chick,
+a perfect maze of those titanic columns. And every foot was marked
+by the lines of crimson and blue, flanking either side.
+
+An immense sea of people rose high into the forest of pillars as
+far as his eye could reach. He had never been in such a concourse
+of humanity.
+
+They passed through an inner arch, a smaller and lower one, into
+what Chick guessed was the temple proper. And if Chick had thought
+the anteroom stupendous, he saw that a new word, one which went
+beyond all previous experience, was needed to describe what he now
+saw.
+
+It was almost too immense to be grasped in its entirety. Gone was
+the maze of columns; instead, far, far away to the right and to
+the left, stood single rows of herculean pillars. There were but
+seven on a side, separated by great distances; and between them
+stretched a space so immense, so incredibly vast, that a small
+city could have been housed within it. And over it all was not the
+open sky, but a ceiling of such terrific grandeur that Chick
+almost halted the procession while he gazed.
+
+For that ceiling was the under side of a cloud, a grey-black,
+forbidding thundercloud. And the fourteen pillars, seven on either
+side, were prodigious waterspouts, monster spirals of the hue of
+storm, with flaring sweeps at top and bottom that welded roof and
+floor into one terrific whole. Sheer from side to side stretched
+that portentous level cloud; it was a span of an epoch; and on
+either side it was rooted in those awful columns, seemingly alive,
+as though ready at any instant to suck up the earth into the
+infinite.
+
+By downright will-power Watson tore his attention away and
+directed it upon the other features of that unprecedented
+interior. It was lighted, apparently, by great windows behind the
+fourteen pillars; windows too far to be distinguishable. And the
+light revealed, directly ahead something that Chick at first
+thought to be a cascade of black water. It leaped out of the rear
+wall of the temple, and at its crest it was bordered with walls of
+solid silver, cut across and designed with scrolls of gold and gem
+work; walls that swooped down and ended with two huge green
+columns at the base of that fantastic fall.
+
+As they approached a swarm of tiny bronze objects, silver winged,
+fluttered out through the temple--tiny birds, smaller than
+swallows, beautiful and swift-winged, elusive. They were without
+number; in a moment the air of the temple was alive with flitting,
+darting spots of glinting colour.
+
+Then Chick saw that there were two people sitting high on the
+crest of that cascade. Wondering, Chick and the rest marched on
+through the silent crowd; all standing with bared heads and bated
+breaths. The worshipping Thomahlians filled every inch of that
+enormous place. Only a narrow lane permitted the procession to
+pass towards that puzzling, silent, black waterfall.
+
+They were almost at its base when Chick saw the vanguard of the
+Rhamdas unhesitatingly stride straight against the torrent, and
+then mount upon it. Up they marched; and Chick knew that the black
+water was black jade, and that the two people at its crest were
+seated upon a landing at the top of the grandest stairway he had
+ever seen.
+
+Up went the Rhamdas deploying to right and left against the silver
+walls. The crimson and blue uniformed guards remained behind,
+lining the lane through the throng. At the foot of the steps Chick
+stopped and looked around, and again he felt numb at the sheer
+vastness of it all.
+
+For he was looking back now at the portal through which the
+procession had marched; a portal now closed; and above it,
+covering a great expanse of that wall and extending up almost into
+the brooding cloud above, was spread a mighty replica of the tri-
+coloured Sign of the Jarados.
+
+For the first time Chick felt the full significance of symbolism.
+Whereas before it had been but an incident of adventure, now it
+was the symbol of mystic revelation. It was not only the motif for
+all other decoration upon the walls and minor elements of the
+temple; it was the emblem of the trinity, deep, holy, significant
+of the mystery of the universe and the hereafter. There was
+something deeper than mere fatalism; behind all was the fact-
+rooted faith of a civilisation.
+
+But at that moment, as Chick paused with one foot on the bottom
+step of the flight, something happened that sent quivers of joy
+and confidence all through him. Someone was talking--talking in
+English!
+
+Chick looked. The speaker was a man in the blue garb of the
+Senestro's guard. He was standing at the end of the line nearest
+the stair, and slightly in front of his fellows. Like the rest, he
+was holding his weapon, a black, needled-pointed sword, at the
+salute. Chick gave him only a glance, then had the presence of
+mind to look elsewhere as a man said, in a low, guarded voice:
+
+"Y' air right, me lad; don't look at me. I know what ye're
+thinkin'. But she ain't as bad as she looks! Keep yer heart clear;
+never fear. You an' me can lick all Thomahlia! Go straight up them
+stairs, an' stand that blackguard Senestro on his 'ead, just like
+y'd do in Frisco!"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Watson, intent upon the great three-leafed
+clover. He used the same low, cautious tone the other had
+employed. "Who are you, friend?"
+
+"Pat MacPherson, of course," was the answer. "An' Oi've said a
+plenty. Now, go aboot your business."
+
+Watson did not quibble. There was no time to learn more. He did
+not wish it to be noticed; yet he could not hide it from the Jan
+Lucar and the Rhamda Geos, who were still at his side. They had
+heard that tongue before. The looks they exchanged told, however,
+that they were gratified rather than displeased by the
+interruption. Certainly all feelings of depression left Chick, and
+he ascended the stairs with a glad heart and a resilient stride
+that could not but be noticed.
+
+He was ready for the Senestro.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+THE PROPHECY
+
+
+Reaching the top of the jade steps, Chick found the landing to be
+a great dais, nearly a hundred feet across. On the right and left
+this dais was hedged in by the silver walls, on each of which was
+hung a huge, golden scrollwork. These scrolls bore legends, which
+for the moment Chick ignored. At the rear of the dais was a large
+object like a bronze bell.
+
+The floor was of the usual mosaic, except in the centre, where
+there was a plain, circular design. Chick took careful note of
+this, a circle about twenty feet across, as white and unbroken as
+a bed of frozen snow. Whether it was stone or not he could not
+determine. All around its edge was a gap that separated it from
+the dais, a gap several inches across. Chick turned to Geos:
+
+"The Spot of Life?"
+
+"Even so. It is the strangest thing in all the Thomahlia, my lord.
+Can you feel it?"
+
+For Watson had reached out with his toe and touched the white
+surface. He drew it back suddenly.
+
+"It has a feeling," he replied, "that I cannot describe. It is
+cold, and yet it is not. Perhaps it is my own magnetism."
+
+"Ah! It is well, my lord!"
+
+What the Rhamda meant by that Chick could not tell. He was
+interested in the odd white substance. It was as smooth as glass,
+although at intervals there were faint, almost imperceptible, dark
+lines, like the finest scratches in old ivory. Yet the whiteness
+was not dazzling. Again Watson touched it with his foot, and noted
+the inexplicable feeling of exhilaration. In the moment of
+absorption he quite forgot the concourse about him. He knew that
+he was now standing on the crux of the Blind Spot.
+
+But in a minute he turned. The dais was a sort of nave, with one
+end open to the stairway. Seated on his left was the frail Aradna,
+occupying a small throne-like chair of some translucent green
+material. On the right sat the Bar Senestro, in a chair differing
+only in that its colour was a bright blue. In the centre of the
+dais stood a third chair--a crimson one--empty.
+
+The Senestro stood up. He was royally clad, his breast gleaming
+with jewels. He was certainly handsome; he had the carriage of
+confident royalty. There was no fear in this man, no uncertainty,
+no weakness. If confidence were a thing of strength, the Senestro
+was already the victor. In his heart Chick secretly admired him.
+
+But just then the Aradna stood up, She made an indication to
+Watson. He stepped over to the queen. She sat down again.
+
+"I want to give you my benediction, stranger lord. Are you sure of
+yourself? Can you overcome the Senestro?"
+
+"I am certain," spoke Watson. "It is for the queen, O Aradna. I
+know nothing of the prophecy; but I will fight for you!"
+
+She blushed and cast a furtive look in the direction of the
+Senestro.
+
+"It is well," she spoke. "The outcome will have a double
+interpretation--the spiritual one of the prophecy, and the
+earthly, material one that concerns myself. If you conquer, my
+lord, I am freed. I would not marry the Senestro; I love him not.
+I would abide by the prophet, and await the chosen." She
+hesitated. "What do you know of the chosen, my lord?"
+
+"Nothing, O Aradna."
+
+"Has not the Rhamda Geos told you?"
+
+"Partly, but not fully. There is something that he is
+withholding."
+
+"Very likely. And now--will you kneel, my lord?"
+
+Watson knelt. The queen held out her hand. Behind him Chick could
+hear a deep murmur from the assembled multitudes. Just what was
+the significance of that sound he did not know; nor did he care.
+It was enough for him that he was to fight for this delicately
+beautiful maiden. He would let the prophecy take care of itself.
+
+Besides these three on the dais there were only the Rhamda Geos
+and the Jan Lucar. These two remained on the edge nearest the body
+of the temple, the edge at the crest of the stair. The empty chair
+remained so.
+
+Suddenly Chick remembered the warning of Dr. Holcomb: "Read the
+words of the Prophet." And he took advantage of the breathing-
+spell to peruse the legends on the great golden scrolls:
+
+THE PROPHECY OF THE JARADOS
+
+Behold! When the day is at hand, prepare ye!
+
+For, when that day cometh, ye shall have signs and portents from
+the world beyond. Wisdom cometh out of life, and life walketh out
+of wisdom. Yea, in the manner of life and of spirit ye shall have
+them, and of substance even like unto you yourselves.
+
+And it shall come to pass in the last days, that we shall be on
+guard. By these signs ye shall know them; even by the truths I
+have taught thee. The way of life is an open door; wisdom and
+virtue are its keys. And when the intelligence shall be lifted to
+the plane above--then shalt thou know!
+
+Mark ye well the Spot of Life! He that openeth it is the precursor
+of judgment. Mark him well!
+
+And thus shall the last days come to pass. See that ye are worthy,
+O wise ones! For behold in those last days there shall come among
+ye--
+
+The chosen of a line of kings. First there shall be one, and then
+there shall be two; and the two shall stay but the one shall
+return.
+
+The false ones. Them ye shall slay!
+
+The four footed: The call to humility, sacrifice and devotion,
+whom ye shall hold in reverence even as you hold me, the Jarados.
+
+And on the last day of all--I, the Jarados!
+
+Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I have given
+ye, and the day be postponed--beware ye of sacrilege!
+
+And if the false ones cometh not, ye shall know that I have held
+them. Know ye the day!
+
+Sixteen days from the day of the prophet, shall come the day of
+the judgment; and the way shall be opened, on the last day, the
+sixteenth day of the Jarados.
+
+Hearken to the words of the Jarados, the prophet and mouthpiece of
+the infinite intelligence, ruler of justice, peace, and love! So
+be it forever!
+
+Chick read it a second time. Like all prophecies, it was somewhat
+Delphic; but he could get the general drift. In that golden script
+he was looking into the heart of all Thomahlia--into its
+greatness, its culture, its civilisation itself. It was the soul
+of the Blind Spot, the reason and the wherefore of all about him.
+
+He heard someone step up behind him, and he turned. It was the
+Senestro, going over the words of the prophecy.
+
+"Can you read it, Sir Phantom?" asked the handsome Bar. His black
+eyes were twinkling with delight. "Have you read it all?"
+
+He put a hand on Chick's shoulder. It was a careless act, almost
+friendly. Either he had the heart of a devil or the chivalry of a
+paladin. He pointed to a line:
+
+"'The false ones. Them ye shall slay.'"
+
+"And if I were the false one, you would slay me?" asked Watson.
+
+"Aye, truly!" answered the splendid prince. "You are well made and
+good to look upon. I shall hold you in my arms; I shall hear your
+bones crack; it shall be sweeter music than that of the temple
+pheasants, who never sing but for the Jarados. I shall slay you
+upon the Spot, Sir Phantom!"
+
+Watson turned on his heel. The ethics of the Senestro were not of
+his own code. He was not afraid; he stood beside the Jan Lucar and
+gazed out into the body of the temple. As far as he could see,
+under and past the fourteen great pillars and right up to the far
+wall, the floor was a vast carpet of humanity.
+
+It was become dark. Presently a new kind of light began to glow
+far overhead, gradually increasing in strength until the whole
+place was suffused with a sun-like illumination. The Rhamda Geos
+began to speak.
+
+"In the last day, in the Day of Life. We have the substance of
+ourselves, and the words of the prophet. The Jarados has written
+his prophecy in letters of gold, for all to see. 'The false ones.
+Them ye shall slay.' It is the will of the Rhamdas that the great
+Bar Senestro shall try the proof of the occult. On this, the first
+of the Sixteen Days, the test shall be--on the Spot of Life!"
+
+He turned away. The Bar Senestro stripped off his jewels, his
+semi-armour, and stood clad in the manner of Watson. They advanced
+and met in the centre of the dais, two athletes, lithe, strong,
+handsome, their muscles aquiver with vitality and their skins
+silken with health. Champions of two worlds, to wrestle for truth!
+
+A low murmur arose, increasing until it filled the whole coliseum.
+The silver-bronze pheasants flitted above the heads of all,
+flashing like fragments of the spirit of light. And all of a
+sudden--
+
+One of them fluttered down and lit on Watson's shoulder.
+
+The murmur of the throng dropped to a dead silence. Next moment a
+stranger thing happened. The little creature broke forth in full-
+throated song.
+
+Watson instantly remembered the words of the Bar Senestro: "They
+sing but for the Jarados." He quietly reached up and caught the
+songster in his hand, and he held it up to the astonished crowd.
+Still the song continued. Chick held him an instant longer, and
+then gave him a toss high into the air. He shot across the temple,
+a streak of melody, silver, dulcet, to the far corner of the giant
+building.
+
+But the thing did not jar the Senestro.
+
+"Well done, Sir Phantom! Anyhow, 'tis your last play! I would not
+have it otherwise. I hope you can die as prettily! Are you ready?"
+
+"Ready? What for?" retorted Watson. "Why, should I trouble myself
+with preparations?"
+
+But the Rhamda Geos had now come to his side.
+
+"Do your best, my lord. I regret only that it must be to the
+death. It is the first death contest in the Thomahlia for a
+thousand circles (years). But the Senestro has challenged the
+prophecy. Prove that you are not a false one! My heart is with
+you."
+
+It was a good word at a needed moment. Watson stepped over onto
+the circular Spot of Life.
+
+They were both barefooted. Evidently the Thomahlians fought in the
+old, classic manner. The stone under Watson's feet was cool and
+invigorating. He could sense anew that quiver of magnetism and
+strength. It sent a thrill through his whole body, like the subtle
+quickening of life. He felt vital, joyous, confident.
+
+The Senestro was smiling, his eyes flashing with anticipation. His
+muscled body was a network of soft movement. His step was catlike.
+
+"What will it be?" inquired Watson. "Name your choice of
+destruction."
+
+But the Bar shook his head.
+
+"Not so, Sir Phantom. You shall choose the manner of your death,
+not I. Particular I am not, nor selfish."
+
+"Make it wrestling, then," in his most off-hand manner. He was a
+good wrestler, and scientific.
+
+"Good. Are you ready?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Very well, Sir Phantom. I shall walk to the edge of the Spot and
+turn around. I would take no unfair advantage. Now!"
+
+Chick turned at the same moment and strode to his edge. He turned,
+and it happened; just what, Chick never knew. He remembered seeing
+his opponent turn slowly about, and in the next split second he
+was spinning in the clutch of a tiger. Even before they struck the
+stone, Chick could feel the Senestro reaching for a death-hold.
+
+And in that one second Watson knew that he was in the grip of his
+master.
+
+His mind functioned like lightning. His legs and arms flashed for
+the counterhold that would save him. They struck the Spot and
+rolled over and over. Chick caught his hold, but the Senestro
+broke it almost instantly. Yet it had saved him; for a minute they
+spun around like a pair of whirligigs. Watson kept on the
+defensive. He had not the speed and skill of the other. It was no
+mere test to touch his shoulders; it was a fight to the death; he
+was at a disadvantage. He worked desperately.
+
+When a man fights for his life he becomes superhuman. Watson was
+put to something more than his skill; the sheer spirit of the Bar
+broke hold after hold; he was like lightning, panther-like,
+subtle, vicious. Time after time he spun Chick out of his defense
+and bore him down into a hold of death. And each time Chick
+somehow wriggled out, and saved himself by a new hold. The
+struggle became a blur--muscle, legs, the lust for killing--and
+hatred. Twice Watson essayed the offensive; first he got a hammer
+lock, and then a half-Nelson. The Bar broke both holds
+immediately.
+
+Whatever Chick knew of wrestling, the Senestro knew just a bit
+more. It was a whirling mass of legs and bodies in continuous
+convulsion, silent except for the terrible panting of the men, and
+the low, stifled exclamations of the onlookers.
+
+And then--
+
+Watson grew weak. He tried once more. They spun to their feet. But
+before he could act the Senestro had caught him in the same flying
+rush as in the beginning, and had whirled him off his feet. And
+when he came down the Bar had an unbreakable hold.
+
+Chick struggled in vain. The Bar tightened his grip. A spasm of
+pain shot through Chick's torso; he could feel his bones giving
+way. His strength was gone; he could see death. Another moment
+would have been the end.
+
+But something happened. The Senestro miraculously let go his hold.
+Chick felt something soft brush against his cheek. He heard a
+queer snapping, and shouts of wonder, and a dreadful choking sound
+from the Bar. He raised dizzily on one arm. His eyes cleared a
+bit.
+
+The great Bar was on his back; and at his throat was a snarling
+thing--the creature that Chick had seen in the clover leaf of the
+Jarados.
+
+It was a living dog.
+
+PAT MACPHERSON'S STORY
+
+To Watson it was all a blur. He was too weak and too broken to
+remember distinctly. He was conscious only of an uproar, of a
+torrent of multitudinous sound. And then--the deep, enveloping
+tone of a bell.
+
+Some time, somewhere, Chick had heard that bell before. In his
+present condition his memory refused to serve him. He was covered
+with blood; he tried to rise, to crawl to this snarling animal
+that was throttling the Senestro. But something seemed to snap
+within him, and all went black.
+
+When he opened his eyes again all had changed. He was lying on a
+couch with a number of people about. It was a minute before he
+recognized the Jan Lucar, then the Geos, and lastly the nurse whom
+he had first seen when he awoke in the Blind Spot. Evidently he
+was in the hands of his friends, although there was a new one, a
+red-headed man, clad in the blue uniform of a high Bar.
+
+He sat up. The nurse held a goblet of the green liquid to his
+lips. The Bar in blue turned.
+
+"Aye," he said. "Give him some of the liquor; it will do him good.
+It will put the old energy back in his bones."
+
+The voice rang oddly familiar in Watson's ears. The words were
+Thomahlian; not until Chick had drained his glass did he
+comprehend their significance.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+The Bar with the red hair grinned.
+
+"Whist, me lad," using Chick's own tongue. "Get rid of these
+Thomahlians. 'Tis a square game we're playin', but we're takin' no
+chances. Get 'em out of the way so we kin talk."
+
+Watson turned to the others. He made the request in his adopted
+tongue. They bowed, reverently, and withdrew.
+
+"Who are you?" Chick asked again.
+
+"Oi'm Pat MacPherson."
+
+"How did you get here?"
+
+The other sat on the edge of the bed. "Faith, how kin Oi tell ye?
+'Twas a drink, sor; a new kind av a high-ball, th' trickery av a
+friend an' th' ould Witch av Endor put togither."
+
+Obviously Watson did not understand. The stranger continued:
+"Faith, sor, an' no more do Oi. There's no one as does, 'cept th'
+ould doc hisself."
+
+"The old doc! You mean Dr. Holcomb?"
+
+Watson sat up in his bed. "Where is he?"
+
+"In a safe place, me lad. Dinna fear for th' doctor. 'Twas him as
+saved ye--him an' your humble sarvant, Pat MacPherson, bedad."
+
+"He--and you--saved me?"
+
+"Aye--there on th' Spot of Life. A bit of a thrick as th' ould doc
+dug oot o' his wisdom. Sure, she dinna work jist loike he said it,
+but 'twas a plenty t' oopset th' pretty Senestro!"
+
+Watson asked, "What became of the Senestro?"
+
+"Sure, they pulled him oot. Th' wee doggie jist aboot had him done
+for. Bedad, she's a good pup!"
+
+"What kind of a dog?"
+
+"A foine wan, sor, wit a bit stub av a tail. An' she's that
+intelligent, she kin jist about talk Frinch. Th' Thomahlians all
+called her th' Four-footed, an' if they kape on, they'll jist
+aboot make her th' Pope."
+
+Watson was still thick headed. "I don't understand!"
+
+"Nor I laddie. But th' ould doc does. He's got a foine head for
+figgers; and' he's that scientific, he kin make iron oot o'
+rainbows."
+
+"Iron out of--what?"
+
+"Rainbows, sor. Faith, 'tis meself thot's seen it. And he's been
+watchin' over ye ever since ye came. 'Twas hisself, lad, that put
+it into your head t' call him th' Jarados."
+
+"You don't mean to say that the professor put those impulses into
+my head!"
+
+"Aye, laddie; you said it. He kin build up a man's thoughts just
+like you or me kin pile oop lumber. 'Tis that deep he is wit' th'
+calculations!"
+
+Watson tried to think. There was just one superlative question
+now. He put it.
+
+"I dinna know if he's th' Jarados," was the reply. "But if so be
+not, then he's his twin brother, sure enough."
+
+"Is he a prisoner?"
+
+"I wouldna say that, though there's them as think so. But if it be
+anybody as is holdin' him, 'tis the Senestro an' his gang o'
+guards."
+
+Watson looked at the other's uniform, at the purple shako on his
+head, the jewelled weapon at his side, and the Jaradic leaf on his
+shoulder--insignia of a Bar of the highest rank.
+
+"How does it come that you're a Bar, and a high one at that?"
+
+The other grinned again. He took off his shako and ran his hand
+through his mop of red hair.
+
+"'Tis aither th' luck of th' Irish, me lad, or of th' Scotch. Oi
+don't ken which--Oi'm haff each--but mostly 'tis th' virtoo av me
+bonny red hair."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because, leastways, in th' Thomahlia, there's always a dhrop av
+royalty in th' red-headed. Me bonnie top-knot has made me a
+fortune. Ye see, 'tis th' mark av th' royal Bars themselves; no
+ithers have it."
+
+Watson said: "If you have come from Dr. Holcomb, then you must
+have a message from him to me."
+
+"Ye've said it; you an' me, an' a few Rhamdas, an' mebbe th' wee
+queen is goin' t' take a flight in th' June Bug. We're goin'
+afther th' ould doc; an' ye kin bet there'll be as pretty a scrap
+as ever ye looked on. An' afther thot's all over, we're goin' t'
+take anither kind of a flight--into good old Frisco."
+
+Chick instantly asked Pat if he knew where San Francisco might be.
+
+"Faith, 'tis only th' ould doc knows, laddie. But when we git
+there, 'tis Pat MacPherson that's a goin' for Toddy Maloney."
+
+"I don't know that name."
+
+"Bedad, I do. Him it was thot give me th' dhrink."
+
+"What drink?"
+
+Th' dhrink thot done it. Twas a new kind av cocktail. Ye see, I'd
+jist got back from Melbourne, an' I was takin' in th' lights that
+noight, aisy like, whin I come t' Toddy's place. I orders a dhrink
+av whuskey.
+
+"'Whist, Pat,' says he, 'ye don't want whuskey; 'twill make ye
+dhrunk. Why don't ye take somethin' green, like th' Irish?'
+
+"'Green," says I. ''Tis a foine colour. I dinna fear anything thot
+comes fra' a bottle. Pass'er oot!'
+
+"An' thot he did. 'Twas 'creme de menthay' on th' bottle. 'An','
+says he, ''Twon't make ye dhrunk.' But he was a liar, beggin' yer
+pardin.
+
+"For by an' by Oi see his head a growin' larger an' larger, until
+Oi couldn't see annything but a few loights on th' cailing, an' a
+few people on th' edges, loike. An' afther thot Oi wint oot, an'
+walked till Oi come to a hill. An' there was a moon, an' a ould
+hoose standin' still, which th' moon was not. So Oi stood still to
+watch it, but bein' tired an' weary an' not havin' got rid o' me
+sea-legs, Oi sat me doon on th' steps av th' hoose for a bit av a
+rest, an' t' watch th' moon, thinkin' mebbe she'd stand still by
+an' by.
+
+"Well, sor, Oi hadn't been there more'n three 'r four minits, whin
+th' door opened, an' oot steps a little ould lady, aboot th'
+littlest an' ouldest Oi iver see in 'Frisco.
+
+"'Good avenin', Mother Machree,' says Oi, touchin' me hat.
+
+"'Mother Machree!' says she, an' gives me a sharp look. Also she
+sniffs. 'Ye poor man,' says she. 'Ye'll catch yer death o' cold,
+out here. Ye better coom in an' lie on me sofy.'
+
+"Now, sor, how was Oi to ken, bein' a sailor an' ingorant? She was
+only a ould lady, an' withered. How was Oi to ken thot she was th'
+ould Witch o' Endor?"
+
+Watson's memory was at work on what he knew of the house at
+Chatterton Place, especially regarding its occupants at the
+beginning of the Blind Spot mystery. The Bar's old remark caught
+his attention.
+
+"The Witch of Endor?"
+
+"Aye; thot she were. Whin Oi woke up, there was nary a hoose at
+all, nor th' ould lady, nor Toddy Maloney's, nor 'Frisco. 'Twas a
+strange place I was, sor; a church loike St. Peter's, only bigger,
+th' same bein' harrd to belaive. An' th' columns looked loike
+waterspoots, an' th' sky above was full av clouds, the same bein'
+jest aboot ready to break into hell an' tempest. But ye've been
+there yerself, sor.
+
+"Well, here was a man beside me, dressed in a kilt. An' he spakes
+a strange language, although Oi could undershtand; and' he says,
+says he:
+
+"'My lord,' was what he says.
+
+"'My lord!' says Oi. 'Oi dinna ken what ye mane at all, at all.'
+
+"'Are ye not a Bar?' says he.
+
+"'Thot Oi am not!' says Oi, spakin' good English, so's to be sure
+he'd understand. 'Oi'm Pat MacPherson.'
+
+"But he couldn' ken. Thin we left th' temple an' wint out into the
+street. An' a great crowd of people came aroun' an' began
+shoutin'. By an' by we wint into anither buildin'.
+
+"'For why sh'd iverybody look at me whin we crossed th' street
+jest noo?' I asked.
+
+"'Tis y'r clothes,' says he.
+
+"Now, Oi don't enjoy pooblicity, sor; wherefore th' wily Scotch in
+me told me what to do, an' th' Irish part of me did it. I stood
+him on his head, an' took his clothes off an' put them on meself.
+An' then no one noticed me. Thot is, until Oi took me hat off."
+
+"You mean, that shako?"
+
+"Yis; th' blaemd heavy thing--'tis made o' blue feathers. Well,
+whin it got so hot it made me scalp sweat, Oi took it off; an'
+then they called me--'My lord' an' 'your worship,' jest loike Oi
+were a king.
+
+"'Pray God,' says Oi, 'that me head dinna get bald.'
+
+"Well, sor, Oi had a toime that was fit for th' Irish. Oi did
+iverything 'cept git drunk; there was nothin' to git drunk with.
+But afther a while I ran across anither, wit' jest as red hair as
+I had. He was a foine man, av coorse, an' all surrounded by blue
+guards. He took me into a room himself an' begin askin' questions.
+
+"An' I lied, sor. Av coorse, 'twas lucky thot Oi had me Scotch
+larnin' an' caution to guide me; but whin Oi spoke, Oi wisely let
+th' Irishman do all th' talkin'. An' th' great Bar liked me.
+
+"'Verily,' says he, most solemnly, 'thou art of th' royal Bars!'
+An' he made me a high officer, he did."
+
+"Was he the Bar Senestro?" asked Watson.
+
+"Nay; 'twas a far better man--Senestro's brother, that died not
+long after. When Oi saw th' Senestro, Oi had sinse enough to kape
+me mouth shut. An' now Oi'm a high Bar--next to th' Senestro
+hisself! What's more, sor, there's no one alive kens th' truth but
+yerself an' th' ould doctor."
+
+It was a queer story, but in the light of all that had gone
+before, wonderfully convincing. Watson began to see light breaking
+through the darkness. "Now there are two," the old lady at 288
+Chatterton Place had said to Jerome, when the detective came
+looking for the vanished professor. Had she referred to Holcomb
+and MacPherson? Two had gone through the Blind Spot, and two had
+come out--the Rhamda Avec and the Nervina. "Now there are two,"
+she had said.
+
+"Tell me a little more about Holcomb, Pat!"
+
+"'Tis a short story. Oi can't tell ye much, owin' to orders from
+the old gent hisself. He came shortly after th' death of the first
+Bar, Senestro's brother. Seems there was some rumpus aboot th' old
+Rhamda Avec, which same Oi always kept away from--him as was goin'
+to prove th' spirits! Annyhow, we was guardin' th' temple awaitin'
+th' spook as was promised. An' thot's how we got th' ould doc.
+
+"But th' Rhamdas niver saw him. Th' Senestro double-crossed 'em,
+an' slipped th' doctor oop to th' Palace av Light."
+
+"The Palace of--what?"
+
+"The Palace av light, sor. Tis th' home av th' Jarados. 'twas held
+always holy by th' Thomahlians; no man dared go within miles av
+it; since the Jarados was here, t'ousands of years ago, no one at
+all has been inside av it.
+
+"But the Senestro knew that th' doctor was th' real Jarados, at
+least he t'ought so; an' he wasna afraid o' him. He's na coward,
+th' Senestro. He put th' doctor in th' Jarados' home! Only th'
+Prophecy worries him at all."
+
+At last Watson was touching firm ground. Things were beginning to
+link up--the Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados.
+
+"Well, sor, we Bars have kept th' ould doctor prisoner there iver
+since he come, wit' none save me to give him a wee bit word av
+comfort. But it dinna hurt th' old gent. Whin he finds all them
+balls an' rainbows an' eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything
+else; he's contint wit 'his discovery. 'Tis th' wise head th'
+doctor has; an' Oi make no doobt he's th' real Jarados."
+
+The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of
+Chick's coming from the beginning. He immediately called in
+MacPherson and gave him some orders, or rather directions, which
+the Irishman could not understand. He knew only that he was to go
+to the Temple of the Leaf and there touch certain objects in a
+certain way; also, he was to arrange to get near Chick, and give
+him a word of cheer.
+
+"But it dinna work as he said it, sor; he had expected to catch
+th' Senestro. Instead, 'twas th' dog got th' Bar. A foine pup,
+sor; she saved yer loife."
+
+"Where's the dog now?"
+
+"She's on th' Spot av Life, sor. She willna leave it. Tis a
+strange thing to see how she clings to it. Th' Rhamdas only come
+near enough to feed her."
+
+Thus Chick learned that, as soon as he got well, he and MacPherson
+were to seek the doctor, and help him to get away with the secrets
+he had found, the truths behind the mystery of the Spot.
+
+"An' 'tis a glorious fight there'll be, lad. Th' Senestro's a game
+wan; he'll not give up, an' he'll not let go th' doctor till he
+has to."
+
+This was not unwelcome news to Chick. A battle was to his liking.
+It reminded him of the automatic pistol which he still had in his
+pocket--the gun he had not thought to use in his desperate
+struggle with the Bar Senestro.
+
+"Pat," said he, with a sudden inspriation, "when you came through,
+did you have a firearm?"
+
+MacPherson reached into his pocket and silently produced a thirty-
+two calibre pistol, of another make than Chick's but using the
+same ammunition. From another pocket he drew out a package
+carefully bound with thread. He unrolled the contents. It was an
+old clay pipe!
+
+"Oi came through," he stated plaintively, "wit' two guns; an' nary
+a bit av powder for ayther!"
+
+Chick smiled. He searched his own pockets. First he handed over
+his extra magazine full of cartridges, and then a full package of
+smoking tobacco.
+
+"Wirra, wirra!" shouted MacPherson. "Faith, an' there's powder for
+both!" His hands shook as he hurried to cram the old pipe full of
+tobacco. The cartridges could wait. He struck a light and gave a
+deep sigh of content as he began to puff.
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+THE HOME OF THE JARADOS
+
+
+Chick had been grievously hurt in the contest with the Senestro,
+but thanks to the Rhamdas he came round rapidly. It was a matter
+of less than a week.
+
+Things were coming to a climax; Chick needed no lynx's eye to see
+that the die had been cast between the Bars and the Rhamdas. Soon
+the Senestro must make a bold move, or else release the professor.
+
+Chick had not long to wait. It came one evening. Once again he
+found himself in the June Bug, accompanied by the Geos, the Jan
+Lucar, and--the little Aradna herself. Their departure was swift
+and secret.
+
+This time Watson was not worried over height, or any other
+sensation of flight. The doctor's safety alone was of moment. He
+said to the Rhamda:
+
+"Are we alone? Where is the Bar MacPherson?"
+
+"He is somewhere near; we are not alone, my lord. Several other
+machines are flying nearby also; they carry many of the Rhamdas
+and the crimson guard of the queen. The MacPherson will arrive
+first. We are going straight to the Palace of Light, my lord."
+
+"Are we to storm the place?" thinking of the fight MacPherson had
+predicted.
+
+"Yes, my lord. Many shall die; but it cannot be helped. We must
+free the Jarados, although we commit sacrilege."
+
+"But--the Senestro?"
+
+"That depends, my lord. We know not just what may be done." He
+gave no explanation.
+
+They had climbed to a tremendous height. The indicator showed that
+they were bearing east. The darkness was modified only by the
+faint glow from that star-dusted sky. Looking down, Chick could
+see nothing whatever. His companions kept silence; only the
+Aradna, sitting forward by the side of Jan Lucar showed any
+perturbation. They climbed higher and higher still, until it
+seemed that they must leave the Thomahlia altogether. Always the
+course was eastward. At last the Jan said to the Geos:
+
+"We are now over the Region of Carbon, sir. Shall I risk the
+light? His lordship might like to see."
+
+"Follow your own judgment."
+
+"Oh," exclaimed the Aradna; "do it by all means! There is nothing
+so wonderful as that!"
+
+The Jan touched a small lever. Instantly a shaft of light cut down
+through the blackness. Far, far below it ended in a patch on the
+ground. Watson eagerly followed its movements as it searched from
+side to side, seeking he knew not what. And then--
+
+There was a flash of inverted lightning, a flame of white fire, a
+blinding, stabbing scintillation of a million coruscations. Watson
+clapped a hand to his eyes, to cut off the sight. It was stunning.
+
+"What is it?" he cried.
+
+"Carbon," answered the Geos, calmly.
+
+"Carbon! You mean--diamond?"
+
+"Yes, my lord. So it interests you? I did not know. Later you
+shall see it under more favourable conditions." Then, to the Jan:
+"Enough."
+
+Once again they were in darkness. For some minutes silence was
+again the rule. Watson watched the red dot moving across the
+indicator, noting its approach to a three cornered figure on one
+edge. Suddenly there appeared another dot; then another, and
+another. Some came from below, others from above; presently there
+were a score moving in close formation.
+
+"They are all here," said the Jan to the Geos.
+
+The other nodded, and explained to Chick: "It's the Rhamdas and
+the Crimson guards. The MacPherson is just ahead. We shall arrive
+in three minutes."
+
+And after a pause he stated that the ensuing combat would mark the
+first spilling of blood between the Bars and the Rhamdas. At a
+pinch the Senestro might even kill the Jarados, to gain his ends.
+"His wish is his only law, my lord."
+
+The red dots began to descend toward the three-cornered figure.
+One minute passed, and another; then one more, and the June Bug
+landed.
+
+With scarcely a sound the Lucar brought the craft to a full stop.
+In a moment he was assisting the Aradna to alight. As for the
+Geos, he took from the machine two objects, which he held out to
+the Aradna and to Chick.
+
+"Put these on. The rest of us fight as we are."
+
+They were cloaks, made of a soft, light, malleable glass, or
+something like it. Watson asked what they were for.
+
+"For a purpose known only to the Jarados, my lord. There are only
+two of these robes. With them he left directions which indicated
+plainly they are for your lordship and the Aradna."
+
+Wondering, Chick helped the Aradna don her garment and then
+slipped into his own. Nevertheless, he pinned more faith in the
+automatic in his pocket. He did not make use of the hood which was
+intended to cover his head.
+
+"Pardon me," spoke the queen. She reached over and extended the
+hood till it protected his skull. "Please wear it that way, for my
+sake. Nothing must happen to you now!"
+
+Chick obeyed with only an inward demur. What puzzled him most was
+the isolation. Seemingly they were quite alone; there was nothing,
+no one, to oppose them.
+
+But he had merely taken something for granted. He, being from the
+earth, had assumed that strife meant noise. It was only when the
+Aradna caught him by the arm, and whispered for him to listen,
+that he understood.
+
+It was like a breeze, that sound. To be more precise, it was like
+the heavy passage of breath, almost uninterrupted, coming from all
+about them. And presently Chick caught a queer odour.
+
+"What is it?" he breathed in the Aradna's ear.
+
+"It is death," she answered. "Cannot you hear them--the deherers?"
+
+She did not explain; but Watson knew that he was in the midst of a
+battle which was fought with noiseless and terribly efficient
+weapons--so efficient that there were no wounded to give voice to
+pain. Before he could ask a question a familiar voice sounded out
+of the darkness at his side.
+
+"Where is the Geos?"
+
+"Here, Bar MacPherson," answered the Rhamda.
+
+"Good! It is well you came, sir. We were discovered a few minutes
+ago; already we have lost many men. Just give us the lights, so
+that we can get at them! It is a waste of men, with the advantage
+all on their side."
+
+Then, lapsing into English for Chick's benefit: "'Tis welcome ye
+are! Ivery mon helps, how."
+
+"What are these sounds? You say they are fighting?"
+
+"'Tis the deherers ye hear, lad. They fight with silent guns.
+Don't let 'em hit ye, or ye'll be a pink pool in the twinklin' of
+yer eyelid. 'Tis no joke.
+
+"Are they more powerful than firearms?"
+
+"I dinna say, lad. But they're th' devil's own weapon for
+fightin'."
+
+Chick did not answer--he had heard a low command from the Geos.
+Next instant the space before them was illuminated by clear white
+light, in the form of a circle--bright as day. In the centre
+shimmered an object like a mist of blue flame, a nimbus of
+dazzling, actinic lightning. There was no sign of man or life, no
+suggestion of sound--nothing but the nimbus, and the brilliant
+space about it. The whole phenomenon measured perhaps three
+hundred feet across.
+
+They were in darkness. Chick took a step forward, but he was held
+back by MacPherson.
+
+"Nay, lad; would ye be dyin' so soon? 'Tis fearful quick. See--"
+
+He did not finish. A red line of soldiers had rushed straight out
+of the blackness into the circle of light. It seemed that they
+were charging the nimbus. They were stooping now, discharging
+their queer weapons; about three hundred of them--an inspiring
+sight. They charged in determined silence.
+
+Then--Watson blinked. The line disappeared; the thing was like a
+miracle. It took time for Chick to realise that he was looking
+upon the "pink death" MacPherson had warned him against--the work
+of the deherers, whatever the word meant. For where had been a
+column of gallant guards there was now only a broad stream of pink
+liquid trickling over the ground. It was annihilation itself--too
+quick to be horrible--inexorable and instantaneous. Chick
+involuntarily placed himself in front of the Aradna.
+
+"The blue thing in the middle," observed the Irishman, coolly, "is
+th' Palace av Light; 'tis held by th' Senestro jest now. An' all
+we got to do is get th' ould doc out." "But I see no building!"
+
+"'Tis there jest the same. Ye'll see it whin th' doctor gits time
+off his rainbows. 'Tis absent-minded he gets when he's on a
+problem, which same is mostly always, sor. We stay roight here
+till he gets ready to drop on th' Senestro."
+
+Watson waited. He knew enough now to cling to the shadow, there
+with MacPherson, the Geos, and the Aradna. In the centre of the
+great light-circle the nimbus of blue stood out like a vibrating
+haze, while all about, in the darkness, could be heard the weird
+sound made by the passage of life.
+
+"When will the Jarados act?" inquired the Geos of the Irishman.
+But he got no reply. MacPherson spoke to Watson: "Get yer gun
+ready, lad; get yer gun ready! Look--'tis th' ould boy himself,
+now! I wonder what the Senestro thinks of that?"
+
+For the nimbus had suddenly dissolved, and in its place there
+appeared one of the quaintest, yet most beautiful buildings that
+Watson had ever seen. It was a three-cornered structure, low-set,
+and of unspeakably dazzling magnificence; a building carved and
+chiselled from solid carbon. Chick momentarily forgot the doctor.
+
+In front of it stood a line of Blue Guards, headed by the
+Senestro. Their confusion showed that something altogether
+unexpected had happened. They were ducking here and there,
+seemingly bewildered by the sudden vanishing of that protecting
+blue dazzle. The Senestro was trying to restore order; and in a
+moment he succeeded. He led the way toward a low, triangular
+platform, at the entrance--a single white door--to the palace.
+
+Pat MacPherson's automatic flashed and barked. Next instant Watson
+was in action. The Bar next to the Senestro staggered, then
+collapsed against his chieftain. Another rolled against his feet,
+causing him to stumble; an act that probably saved his life, for
+the platform in a second was covered with writhing, bleeding,
+dying Bars.
+
+The Senestro managed to reach the doorway. MacPherson cursed.
+
+"Come on!" he yelled to Watson. "Well git him alive!" Watson
+remembered little of that rush. There stood the great Bar at the
+doorway, surrounded by his dying and panic-stricken men. The cloak
+given Chick by the Geos impeded his progress; with a quick
+movement he threw it off and ran unprotected alongside the
+Irishman. The Blue guards saw them coming; they levelled their
+weapons. But before they could discharge them they met the same
+fate as had the Reds. A tremor in the air, and they were gone,
+leaving only a pink pool on the ground.
+
+Senestro alone remained untouched. He was about to open the white
+door; for a second he posed, defiant and handsome. Then the great
+Bar ducked swiftly and almost with the same motion dodged into the
+building. Chick and Pat were right after him.
+
+Inside was darkness. Chick ran head on against the side wall;
+turning, he bumped into another. The sudden transition from
+brilliance to blackness was overwhelming. He stopped and felt
+about carefully--momentarily blind. What if the Senestro found him
+now?
+
+He called MacPherson's name. There was no reply. He tried to feel
+his way along, finding the wall irregular, jagged, sharp cornered.
+But the way must lead somewhere. He reached a turn in the passage;
+it was still too dark for him to see anything. He proceeded more
+cautiously, wondering at those craggy walls. And then--
+
+Chick slapped his hands to his eyes. It was as if he had been shot
+into the core of the sun--the obsidian darkness flashed into
+light--a light beyond all enduring. Chick staggered, and cried in
+pain. And yet, reason told him just what it was, just what had
+happened. It was the carbon; he was in the heart of the diamond;
+the Senestro had led him on and on, and then--had flashed some
+intense light upon the vast jewel. Watson knew the terrible
+helplessness of the blind. His end had come!
+
+And so it seemed. Next instant someone came up to him--someone he
+could hear if he could not see. It was the Senestro.
+
+"Hail, Sir Phantom! Pardon my abrupt manner of welcome. I suppose
+you have come for the Jarados?" And he laughed, a laugh full of
+mockery and triumph. "Perhaps you think I intend to kill you?"
+
+Watson said no word. He had been outwitted. He awaited the end.
+But the Senestro saw fit to say, with an irony that told how sure
+he was:
+
+"However, I am opposed to killing in cold blood. Open your eyes,
+Sir Phantom! I will give you time--a fair chance. What do you 
+say--shall we match weapon against weapon?"
+
+Watson slowly opened his eyes. The blinding light had dimmed to a
+soft glow. They were in a sort of gallery whose length was
+uncertain; between him and the outlet, about ten feet away, stood
+the confident, ever-smiling Bar.
+
+"You or I," said he, jauntily. "Are you ready to try it? I have
+given you a fair chance!"
+
+He raised his dagger-like weapon, as though aiming it. At the same
+instant Chick pulled the trigger from the hip, snap aim.
+
+The gun was empty.
+
+Another second, and Watson would have been like those spots of
+colour on the ground outside. He breathed a prayer to his Maker.
+The Senestro's weapon was in line with his throat.
+
+But it was not to be. There came a flash and a stunning report;
+the deherer clattered against the wall, and the Senestro clutched
+a stinging hand. He was staring in surprise at something behind
+Chick--something that made him turn and dart out of sight.
+
+Chick wheeled.
+
+Right behind him stood the familiar form of the Jan Lucar; and a
+few feet beyond, a figure from which came a clear, cool,
+nonchalant voice;
+
+"I would have killed that fellow, Chick, but he's too damned
+handsome. I'm going to save him for a specimen."
+
+Watson peered closer. He gave a gasp, half of amazement, half of
+delight. For the words were in English, and the voice--
+
+It was Harry Wendel.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+DR. HOLCOMB'S STORY
+
+
+If there was the least doubt in Chick's mind that this was really
+Harry, it was dispelled by the sight of the person who the next
+moment stepped up to his side. It was none other than the Nervina.
+
+"Harry Wendel!" gasped Watson. It was too good to be true!
+
+"Surest thing you know, Chick. It's me, alive and kicking!" as
+they grabbed one another.
+
+"How did you get here?"
+
+"Search me! Ask the lady; I'm just a creature of circumstance. I
+merely act; she does all the thinking."
+
+The Nervina smiled and nodded. Her eyes were just as wonderful as
+Chick remembered them, full of elusiveness, of the moonbeam's
+light, of witchery past understanding.
+
+"Yes," she affirmed. "You see, Mr. Watson, it is the will of the
+Prophet. Harry is of the Chosen. We have come for the great Dr.
+Holcomb--for the Jarados!"
+
+And she led the way. Watson followed in silent wonder; behind him
+came the Geos and the rest, quiet and reverent. The soft glow
+still held, so that they seemed to be walking through the walls of
+cold fire. At the end of the passage they came to a door.
+
+The Nervina touched three unmarked spots on the walls. The door
+opened. The queen stood aside, and motioned for Chick and Harry to
+enter.
+
+It was a long room, pear-shaped, and fitted up like the most
+elaborate sort of laboratory. And at the far end, seated in the
+midst of a strange array of crystals, retorts and unfamiliar
+apparatus, was a man whom the two instantly recognised.
+
+It was the missing professor, looking just as they remembered him
+from the days when they sat in his class in Berkeley. There was
+the same trim figure, the same healthy cheeks, pleasant eyes and
+close-cropped white beard. Always there had been something
+imperturbable about the doctor--he had that poise and equanimity
+which is ever the balance of sound judgment. Neither Chick nor
+Harry expected any rush of emotion, and they were not
+disappointed.
+
+Holcomb rose to his feet, revealing on the table before him a
+queer, dancing light which he had been studying. He touched
+something; the light vanished, and simultaneously there came an
+unnameable change in the appearance of certain of those puzzling
+crystals. The doctor stepped forward, hand extended, smiling;
+surely he did not look or act like a prisoner.
+
+"Well, well," spoke he; "at last! Chick Watson and Harry Wendel!
+You're very welcome. Was it a long journey?"
+
+His eyes twinkled in the old way. He didn't wait for their
+replies. He went on:
+
+"Have we solved the Blind Spot? It seems that my pupils never
+desert me. Let me ask: have you solved the Blind Spot?"
+
+"We've solved nothing, professor. What we have come for is, first,
+yourself; and second, for the secrets you have found. It is for us
+to ask--what is the Blind Spot?"
+
+The professor shook his head.
+
+"You were always a poor guesser, Mr. Wendel. Perhaps Chick, now--"
+
+"Put me down as unprepared," answered Chick. "I'm like Harry--I
+want to know!"
+
+"Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix," laughed Holcomb.
+"We, who know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still
+more! It may be, after all, that we know very little; even though
+we have solved the problem." His eyes twinkled again,
+aggravatingly.
+
+"Tell us, then!" from Harry, on impulse as always. "What is the
+Blind Spot?"
+
+But Holcomb shook his head. "Not just now, Harry; we have
+company." The Geos and the Jan had entered. "Besides, I am not
+quite ready. There remain several tangles to be unravelled."
+
+As he shook hands with the Geos, he spoke in the Thomahlian
+tongue. "You are more than welcome."
+
+The Rhamda bent low in reverence and awe. His voice was hushed. He
+spoke:
+
+"Art thou the Jarados, my lord?"
+
+"Aye," stated the doctor. "I am he; I am the Jarados!"
+
+It was a stagger for both young men. Neither could reconcile the
+great professor of his schooldays with this strange, philosophic
+prophet of the occult Thomahlians. What was the connection? What
+was the fate that was leading, urging, compelling it all?
+
+"Professor, you will pardon our eagerness. Both Harry and I have
+had adventures, without understanding what it was all about. Can't
+you explain? Where are we? And--why?" And then:
+
+"Your lecture on the Blind Spot! You promised it to us--can you
+deliver it now?"
+
+The professor smiled his acknowledgement.
+
+"Part of it," he said; "enough to answer your questions to some
+extent. Had I stayed in Berkeley I could have delivered it all,
+but"--and he laughed--"I know a whole lot more, now; and,
+paradoxically, I know far less! First let me speak to the Geos."
+He learned that the struggle outside had terminated successfully
+for the Rhamda and his men. All was quiet. The Senestro had made
+his escape in safety back to the Mahovisal. The doctor ordered
+that he was not to be molested.
+
+The Geos and the others left the room, escorting the Aradna, who
+was too exhausted for further experiences. There remained with the
+doctor, Chick, Harry, and the Nervina.
+
+"I will reduce that lecture to synopsis form," began the
+professor. "I shall tell you all that I know, up to this moment.
+First, however, let me show you something."
+
+He indicated the table from which he had risen. Chief among the
+objects on its top were fragments of minerals, some familiar, some
+strange. Above and on all sides were the crystal globes or, at
+least, what Chick named as such--erected upon as many tripods. One
+of these the professor moved toward the table.
+
+Simultaneously a tiny dot appeared on a small metal plate in the
+centre of the table. At first almost invisible, it grew, after a
+minute or so, to a definite bit of matter.
+
+The professor moved the tripod away. Nearby crystals, inside of
+which some dull lights had leaped into momentary being, subsided
+into quiescence. And the three observers looked again and again at
+the solid fragment of material that had grown before their eyes on
+that table.
+
+Something had been made out of nothing!
+
+The doctor picked it up and held it unconcernedly in his fingers.
+
+"Can anybody tell me," asked he, "what this is?"
+
+There was no answer. The professor tossed the thing back on the
+table. It gave forth a sharp, metallic sound.
+
+"You are looking at ether," spoke he. "It is the ether itself--
+nothing else. You call it matter; others would call it iron; but
+those are merely names. I call it ether in motion--materialised
+force-coherent vibration.
+
+"Like everything else in the universe it answers to a law. It has
+its reason--there is no such thing as chance. Do you follow? That
+fragment is simply a principle, allowed to manifest itself through
+a natural law!
+
+"Try to follow me. All is out of the ether--all! Variety in matter
+is simply a question of varying degrees of electronic activity,
+depending upon a number of ratios. Life itself, as well as
+materiality and force, comes out of the all-pervading ether.
+
+"This object here," touching the crystal, "is merely a conductor.
+It picks up the ether and sends it through a set degree of
+vibrational activity. Result? It makes iron!
+
+"If you wish you may go back to our twentieth century for a
+parallel--by which I mean, electricity. It is gathered crudely;
+but the time will come when it will be picked up out of the air in
+precisely the same manner that men pick hydrocarbons out of
+petroleum, or as I sift the desired quality of ether through that
+globe.
+
+"This, I am convinced, is one of the fundamental secrets of the
+Blind Spot. Is there any question?"
+
+Wendel managed to put one.
+
+"You said, 'back in the twentieth century.' Is it a question of
+time displacement, sir?"
+
+"Suppose we forgo that point at present. You will note, however,
+that the Thomahlian world is certainly far in advance of our own."
+
+"Professor," asked Watson, "is it the occult?"
+
+"Ah," brightening; "now we are getting back to the old point.
+However, what is the occult?" He paused; then--"Did it ever occur
+to you, that the occult might prove to be the real world, proving
+that life we have known to be merely a shadow?"
+
+Silence greeted this. The professor went on:
+
+"Let me ask you: Are you living in a real world now, or an unreal
+one?" There was no response. "It is, of course, a reality; just as
+truly as if you were in San Francisco. So," very distinctly,
+"perhaps it is merely a question of viewpoint, as to which is the
+occult!"
+
+"Just what we want to know," from Harry.
+
+"And that," tossing up his hands, "is exactly what I cannot tell
+you. I have found out many things, but I cannot be sure. I left
+certainty in Berkeley.
+
+"Today I feel that there is some great fate, some unknown force
+that defies analysis, defies all attempts at resolution--a force
+that is driving me through the role of the Jarados. We are all a
+part of the Prophecy!
+
+"We must wait for the last day for our answer. That Prophecy must
+and will be fulfilled. And on that day we shall have the key to
+the Blind Spot--we shall know the where of the occult."
+
+He took a sip from a tumbler of the familiar green fluid.
+
+"Now that I have told you this much, I am going back to the
+beginning. I, too, have had adventures.
+
+"How did I come to discover the Blind Spot?
+
+"It was about one year prior to my last lecture at the university.
+At the time I had been doing much psychic-research work, all of
+which you know. And out of it I had adduced some peculiar
+theories. For example:
+
+"Undoubtedly there is such a thing as a spirit world. If all the
+mediums but one were dishonest, and that one produced the results
+that couldn't be explained away by psychology, then we must admit
+the existence of another world.
+
+"But reason tells us that there is nothing but reality; that if
+there were a spirit world it must be just as real, just as
+substantial as our own. Moreover--somewhere, somehow, here must be
+a definite point of contact!
+
+"That was approximately my theory. Of course I had no idea how
+close I had come to a great truth. To some extent it was pure
+guesswork.
+
+"Then, one day Budge Kennedy brought me the blue stone. He told me
+its history, and he maintained that it was lighter than air, which
+of course I disbelieved until I took it out of the ring and saw
+for myself.
+
+"I went at once to the house at 288 Chatterton Place. There I
+found an old lady who had lived in the house for some time. I
+asked to see the cellar where the stone had been unearthed.
+Understand, I had no idea of the great discovery I was about to
+make; I merely wanted to see. And I found something almost as
+impossible as the blue stone itself-a green one, heavier than any
+known mineral, answering to no known classification but of an
+entirely new element. It was no larger than a pea, but of
+incredible weight.
+
+"Coming upstairs I found the old lady a bit perturbed. I had told
+her my name; she had recognised me as well.
+
+"'Come with me,' she said.
+
+"With that she opened a door. She was very old and very uncertain;
+yet she was scarcely afraid.
+
+"'In there," she said, and pointed through the door.
+
+"I entered an ordinary room, furnished as a parlour. There was a
+sofa, a table, a few chairs; little else.
+
+"'What do you mean?' I asked.
+
+"'The man!'
+
+"'The man! What man?"
+
+"'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was
+shining. He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a
+lad that's in need of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa.
+He was tired, you see, and--I once had a son of my own.'
+
+"She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could
+feel the pressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.
+
+"'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it!
+They took him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'
+
+"She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.
+
+"'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when--they
+took him! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and
+the moon--it was gone. And then--' She looked up at me again and
+whispered: 'And then I heard a bell--a very beautiful bell--a
+church bell, sir? But you know, don't you? You are the great Dr.
+Holcomb. That's why you went into the cellar, wasn't it? Because
+you know!'
+
+"Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:
+
+"'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good
+enough to leave me to myself?'
+
+"She closed the door after her. I had the green stone in my hand;
+it was very heavy, and I placed it on one of the chairs. The blue
+stone I still held. At the moment I hadn't the least notion of
+what was about to happen; it was all accident, from beginning to
+end.
+
+"All of a sudden the room disappeared! That is, the side wall; I
+was not looking at the dingy old wallpaper, but out through and
+into an immense building, dim, vast and immeasurable.
+
+"Directly in front of me was a white substance like a stone of
+snow. Upon this substance was seated a man, about my own age, as
+nearly as I could make out. He looked up just as I noted him.
+
+"Our recognition was mutual. Immediately he made a sign with one
+hand. And at once I took a step forward; I thought he had
+motioned. It was all so real and natural. Though his features were
+dim he could not have been more than ten feet distant. But, at
+that very instant, when I made that one step, the whole thing
+vanished.
+
+"I was still in the room at Chatterton Place!
+
+"That's what started it all. Had this occurred to any one else in
+the world I should have labelled it an unaccountable illusion. But
+it had happened to me.
+
+"I had my theory; between the spiritual and the material there
+must be a point of contact. And--I had found it! I had discovered
+the road to the Indies, to the Occult, to all that other men call
+unknowable. And I called it--
+
+"The Blind Spot."
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+THE ARADNA
+
+
+Thus had the professor got into actual touch with the occult--by
+sheer accident. Up to that time it had been only a hypothesis; now
+it was a fact. Next step was to open up direct communication.
+
+"That was difficult. To begin with, I worked to repeat the
+phenomena I had seen, getting some haphazard results from the
+start. My purpose throughout was to exchange intelligent comment
+with the individual I had beheld on that snow-stone within the
+Spot; and in the end I succeeded.
+
+"He gave me fairly explicit warning as to when the Blind Spot
+should open, not only to the eye, but in its entirety, as it had
+done for the young man of whom the old lady had told me. We agreed
+through signs that he would come through first.
+
+"Understand, up to the instant of his actual arrival, I didn't
+know just what he was like. I had to be content with his sign-
+talk, by which he assured me he was a real man, material, of life
+and the living.
+
+"I made my announcement. You know most of what followed. The
+Rhamda came to Berkeley; together we returned to Chatterton Place,
+for it was imperative that we hold the Spot open or at least
+maintain the phenomenon at such a point that we could reopen it at
+will. Both of us were guessing.
+
+"Neither of us knew, at the time, just how long the Rhamda could
+endure our atmosphere. He had risked his life to come through; it
+was no more than fair that I should accede to his caution and
+insure him a safe return to his own world.
+
+"But things went wrong. It was ignorance as much as accident. At
+Chatterton Place I was caught in the Blind Spot, and without a
+particle of preparation was tossed into the Thomahlia.
+
+"When I came through, the Nervina went out. Thus I found myself in
+this strange place with no one to guide me. And unfortunately, or
+rather, fortunately, I fell into the hands of the Bar Senestro.
+
+"Now, for all that he is a sceptic, the Senestro is a brave man;
+and like many another unbeliever, he has a sense of humour. My
+coming had been promised by Avec; so he knew that somehow I was a
+part of the Prophecy--the prophecy which, for reasons of his own,
+he did not want fulfilled.
+
+"So he isolated me here in the house of the Jarados. A bold sort
+of humor, I call it--to defy the Prophecy in the very spot where
+it was written!
+
+"But it was fortunate. I was in the house of the old prophet, with
+its stores of wisdom, secrets, raw elements and means for applying
+the laws of nature. All that I hitherto had only guessed at, I now
+had at my disposal: libraries, laboratories, everything. I was a
+recluse with no interruptions and perfect facility for study.
+
+"First of all I went into their philosophy. Then into their
+science, and afterwards into their history. Whereupon I made a
+rather startling discovery.
+
+"Apparently I AM THE JARADOS.
+
+"For my coming had been foretold almost to the hour. As I went on
+with the research I found many other points that seemed familiar.
+Plainly there was something that had led me into the Spot; and
+most certainly it was not mere chance. I became convinced that not
+merely my own destiny, but a higher, a transcendental fate was at
+stake.
+
+"In the course of time I became certain of this. Meanwhile I
+mastered most of the secrets of this palace--the wisdom of the
+ancient Jarados. Though a prisoner, I was the happiest of men--
+which I still remain. The Bars kept close watch over me,
+constantly changing their guard. And it was on one of those
+occasions that I found MacPherson.
+
+"Well, after MacPherson's coming I was pretty much my own master.
+I induced the Senestro to allow MacPherson to remain as a constant
+bodyguard. But I never told Pat what was what, except that some
+day we should extricate ourselves.
+
+"You may wonder why I did not open the Spot.
+
+"There were several reasons: First, in the nature of the
+phenomenon it must be opened only on the earth side, except on
+rare occasions when certain conditions are peculiarly favourable.
+That's why the Rhamda Avec could not do it alone; I know now that
+I should have imparted to him certain technicalities. I possessed
+two of the keys then; now, I know there are three.
+
+"And I have learned that each of these is a sinister thing.
+
+"The blue stone, for instance, is life, and it is male. Rather a
+sweeping and ambiguous statement; but you will comprehend it in
+the end. Were a man to wear it it would kill him, in time; but a
+woman can wear it with impunity.
+
+"Perhaps you will appreciate that statement better if you note
+what I have just done through the medium of that crystal. The blue
+gem is an inductor of the ether; in a sense, it is one of the
+anchors of the Spot of Life, or the Blind Spot--whatever we want
+to call it--the Spot of Contact.
+
+"The other two particles--the red and the green one--are
+respectively the Soul and the Material. Or, let us say, the
+etheric embryos of these essentials.
+
+"The three stones constitute an eternal trinity.
+
+"As for the substance of the Spot itself, that I cannot tell, just
+yet. But I do know that the whole truth will come out clear in the
+fulfilment of the Prophecy. I am convinced that it has translated
+Watson, and now Harry Wendel and the Nervina."
+
+"Can you control it?" asked Chick.
+
+"To a limited extent. I have been able to watch you ever since
+your coming. You did not know about Harry, but I saw him come--in
+the arms of the Nervina."
+
+The Nervina nodded.
+
+"It is so. I knew the Senestro. I was afraid that Harry would fall
+into his hands. I had previously endeavoured to have him give the
+jewel to Charlotte Fenton. I didn't trust the great Bar--"
+
+Harry interrupted, "Only because of her distrust of the Senestro
+did she decide to come through the Blind Spot with me. She knew
+what to do. As soon as we got here, she bundled me off, privately
+nursed me back to health if not strength, and when the time came
+rushed me up here at the last second to be in at the finish."
+
+Watson thought of the dog, Queen. She also had come through just
+in time to save his life. Did Harry know anything about her? When
+Wendel had related what he knew, Chick commented:
+
+"It's almighty strange, Harry. Everything works out to fit in
+exactly with that confounded Prophecy. Perhaps that accounts for
+your affinity for the Nervina; it is something beyond your
+control, or hers. We'll have to wait and see."
+
+There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full
+of Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself,
+was now issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the
+sixteen days, now very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas
+constantly alluded to as "the Day of Judgment."
+
+The Senestro went unmolested. Returning to the Mahovisal, he
+worked now to further the truths of the Prophecy.
+
+Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming
+from the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims'
+aircraft kept the air above the city constantly alive. There were
+days such as no man had ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to
+composure, gave evidence of the strain. The atmosphere was tense,
+charged with expectancy and hope. A whole world was coming to what
+it conceived as its judgment, and its end. And--the Spot of Life
+was the Blind Spot!
+
+At last the doctor summoned the two young men. It was night, and
+the June Bug was waiting. This time the Geos himself was at the
+controls.
+
+"We are going to the Mahovisal," spoke the doctor--"to the Temple
+of the Bell and Leaf. There is still something I must know before
+the Judgment." He was speaking English. "If we can bring the
+Prophecy to pass just so far, and no farther, we shall be able to
+extricate ourselves nicely. Anyway, I think we shall not return to
+the Palace of Light."
+
+He held a black leather case in his hand. He touched it with a
+finger.
+
+"If this little case and its contents get through the Blind Spot
+it will advance civilisation--our civilisation--about a thousand-
+fold. So remember: Whatever happens to me, be sure and remember
+this case! It must go through the Spot!"
+
+He said no more, but took his seat beside the Geos. The young men
+took the rear seats. In a short time they had crossed the great
+range of mountains and were hovering over the Mahovisal.
+
+There was no sound. Though the city was packed with untold
+millions, the tension was such that scarcely a murmur came out of
+the metropolis. The air was magnetic, charged, strained close to
+the breaking point; above all, the reverence for the Last Day, and
+the hope, rising, accumulating, to the final supreme moment.
+
+For the Sixteenth Day was now only forty-eight hours removed.
+
+Both Chick and Harry realised that their lives were at stake; the
+doctor had made that clear. In the last minute, in the final
+crisis, they must crowd their way through the Blind Spot. Only the
+professor knew how it was to be done.
+
+At the temple they found the Nervina and the Aradna waiting. The
+Jan Lucar was with them. The Geos had secured entrance by a side
+door. From it they could look out, themselves unobserved, over the
+entire building and upon the Spot of Life. The place was packed--
+thousands upon thousands of people, standing in silent awe and
+worship, one and all gazing toward the all-important Spot. There
+was no sound save the whisper of multitudinous breathing.
+
+Said Harry to Chick:
+
+"I see Queen up there!"
+
+Harry circled the group, and bounded up the great stairs. In a
+moment he was patting his dog's head. She looked up and wagged her
+tail to show her pleasure. But she was not effusive. Somehow she
+wasn't just like his old shepherd. She glanced at him, and then
+out at the concourse below, and lolled her tongue expectantly.
+Then she settled back into her place and resumed watch--exactly as
+any of her kind would have held guard over a band of sheep.
+
+The dog was serious. Afterward, Wendel said he had a dim notion
+that she was no longer a dog at all, but a mere instrument in the
+hand of Fate.
+
+"What's the matter, old girl?" he asked. "Don't you like 'em?"
+
+For answer she gave a low whine. She looked up again, and out into
+the throng; she repeated the whine, with a little whimper at the
+end.
+
+Harry returned to the others. Nothing was said of what he had
+done. At once the Geos led the group through a small, half-hidden
+door, beyond which was a narrow, winding stairway of chocolate-
+coloured stone. The Geos halted.
+
+"Dost wish the building emptied, O Jarados?"
+
+"I do. When we come back from under the Spot of Life, we should
+have the place to ourselves."
+
+Accompanied by the two queens the Rhamda returned to the main body
+of the temple. Dr. Holcomb, Harry and Chick were left to
+themselves.
+
+The professor took out a notebook. In it was traced a map, or
+chart, together with several notations.
+
+"The three of us," said he, "are going to take a look at the under
+side of the Blind Spot. This stairway leads into a secret chamber
+inside the foundations of the great stair; and according to this
+data I found in the palace, together with some calculations of my
+own, we ought to find some of the secrets of the Spot."
+
+He led the way up the steps. At the top of the flight they came to
+a blank, blue wall. There was no sign of a door, but in the front
+of the wall stood a low platform, in the centre of which was set a
+strange, red stone. The professor consulted his chart, then opened
+his black case. From it he took another stone, red like the other,
+but not so intense. This he touched to the first, and waited.
+
+Inside a minute a light sprang up from the contact. Immediately
+Harry and Chick beheld something they had not seen on the wall--a
+knob, or button. The doctor pulled sharply on it. Instantly a door
+opened in the wall.
+
+They passed into another room. It was not a large place--about
+thirty feet across, perhaps, stone-walled and with a low ceiling.
+From all sides a soft, intrinsic glow was given off. There were no
+furnishings.
+
+But in the centre of the ceiling, occupying almost all the space
+overhead, a snow-white substance hung as if suspended. Were it not
+for its colour and its size, it might have been likened to an
+immense, horizontal grindstone hung in mid-air, with apparently
+nothing to hold it there. Around its side they could make out a
+narrow gap between it and the ceiling. And directly along its
+lower edge was a series of small, fiery jewels inset, and of the
+order and colour of the sign of the Jarados--red, blue and green,
+alternating.
+
+The professor produced an electric torch and held it up to show
+that the gap between the stone and the ceiling was unbroken at any
+point. Then he counted the jewels on the lower edge. Chick made
+out twenty-four. Three were missing from their sockets--all told,
+then, there should have been twenty-seven.
+
+The doctor noted the positions of the three empty sockets and,
+drawing a tapeline from his pocket, proceeded to measure the
+distances from each of the three--they were widely separated round
+the circle--from each other. Then he turned to Chick and Harry.
+
+"Do you know where we are?"
+
+"Under the Spot of Life," it was easy to answer.
+
+"You are in San Francisco!"
+
+"Not in--in--" Chick hesitated.
+
+"Yes. Exactly. This is 288 Chatterton Place--the house of the
+Blind Spot." He paused for them to digest this. Then, "Harry--did
+you say Hobart Fenton was with you on that last night?"
+
+"Hobart and his sister, Charlotte. I remember their coming at the
+last minute. They were too late, sir."
+
+The professor nodded.
+
+"Well, Harry, the chances are that Hobart is not more than twenty
+feet away at the present moment. Charlotte may be sitting right
+there"--pointing to a spot at Harry's side--"this very instant.
+And there may be many others.
+
+"No doubt they are working hard to solve the mystery.
+Unfortunately the best they can do is to guess. We hold the key.
+That is--I should correct that statement--we hold the knowledge,
+and they hold the keys."
+
+"The keys?" Harry wanted to know more.
+
+The professor pointed to the three empty sockets in the great
+white stone above their heads. "These three missing stones are the
+keys. Until they are reset we cannot control the Spot. I had found
+two of them before I came through. I take it that both of you
+remember the blue one?"
+
+"I think," agreed Chick, "that neither of us is ever likely to
+forget it! Eh, Harry?"
+
+The professor smiled. He was holding the light up to the snow-
+stone, at a spot that would have been the point of intersection
+had lines been drawn from the three missing gems, and the
+resulting triangle centred. He held his hand up to the substance.
+It was slightly rough at that point, as though it had been frozen.
+
+Then he ran his fingers across the surrounding surface.
+
+"Ah!" he exclaimed. "I thought so! That helps considerably.
+Chick--put your hand up here. What do you feel?"
+
+"Rough," said Chick, feeling the intersection point. "Slightly so,
+but cold and--and magnetic."
+
+"Now feel here."
+
+"Cool and magnetic, doctor; but smooth. What does it prove?"
+
+"Let's see; do you understand the term 'electrolysis'? Good. Well,
+there should be another clue--not similar, but supplementary, or
+rather, complementary--on the earth side. Perhaps one of you found
+it while you lived in that house." The professor eyed both men
+anxiously. "Did either of you find a stain, or anything of that
+sort, on the walls, ceiling, or floor of any room there?"
+
+Both shook their heads.
+
+"Well, there ought to be," frowned the doctor. "I am positive
+that, should we return now, we could locate some such phenomenon.
+From this side it is very easy to account for; it's simply the
+disintegrating effect of the current, constantly impinging at the
+point of contact or the intersection. Having acted on this side,
+it must have left some mark on the other."
+
+Watson was still running his hand over the snow-stone. Once
+before, when he had stood barefooted in the contest with the
+Senestro, he had noted its cold magnetism.
+
+"What is this substance, professor?"
+
+"That, I have not been able to discover. I would call it neutral
+element, for want of a more exact term; something that touches
+both aspects of the spectrum."
+
+"Both aspects of the spectrum?"
+
+"Yes; as nearly as the limitations of my vocabulary will permit.
+If you recall, I showed you a simple experiment the other day in
+the palace. By means of an inductor I drew out the iron principle
+from the ether and built up the metal. Only it was not precisely
+iron but its Thomahlian equivalent. Had you been on the earth side
+you would have seen nothing at all, not even myself. I was on the
+wrong aspect of the spectrum.
+
+"Also, you see here the Jaradic colours--the crimson, green and
+blue--the shades between, the iridescence and the shadows. Had you
+been on the other side you wouldn't have seen one of them; they
+are not precisely our own colours, but their equivalents on this
+side of the Spot.
+
+"In the final analysis, as I said before, it gets down to ether,
+to speed and vibration--and still at last to the perceptive
+limitations of our own earthly five senses. Just stop and consider
+how limited we are! Only five senses--why, even insects have six.
+Then consider that all matter, when we get to the bottom of it, is
+differentiated and condensed ether, focused into various
+mathematical arrangements, as numberless as the particles of the
+universe. Of these our five senses pick out a very small
+proportion indeed.
+
+"This is one way to account for the Blind Spot. It may be merely
+another phase of the spectrum--not simply the unexplored regions
+of the infra-red or the ultra-violet, but a region co-existent
+with what we normally apprehend, and making itself manifest
+through apertures in what we, with our extremely limited sense-
+grasp, think to be a continuous spectrum. I throw out the idea
+mainly as a suggestion. It is not necessarily the true
+explanation.
+
+"Let us go a bit farther. Remember, we are still upon the earth.
+And that we are still in San Francisco, although all the while we
+are also in the Mahovisal. This is 288 Chatterton Place, and at
+the same time it is the Temple of the Bell. It might be a hundred
+or a thousand other places just as well, too, if my hypothesis is
+correct; which we shall see.
+
+"Now, what does this mean? Simply this, gentlemen, that we five-
+sensed people have failed to grasp the true meaning of the word
+'Infinity.' We look out toward the stars, fancying that only in
+unlimited space can we find the infinite. We little suspect we
+ourselves are infinity! It is only our five senses that make us
+finite.
+
+"As soon as we grasp this the so-called spiritual realm becomes a
+very substantial fact. We begin to apprehend the occult. Our five-
+sensed world is merely a highly specialized phase of infinity.
+Material or spiritual--it is all the same. That's why we look on
+the Thomahlians as occult, and why they consider us in the same
+light.
+
+"It is strictly a question of sense perception and limitations,
+which can be covered by the word, 'viewpoint.' Viewpoint--that is
+all it amounts to.
+
+"There is no such thing as unreality; but there is most certainly
+such a thing as relativity, and all life is real.
+
+"Of course I knew nothing of this until the discovery of the Blind
+Spot. It will, I think, prove to be one of the greatest events in
+history. It will silence the sceptics, and form a bulwark for all
+religion. And it will make us all appreciate our Creator the
+more."
+
+The professor stopped. For some moments there was silence.
+
+"What are we to do now?" asked Harry.
+
+But the professor chose not to answer. With his tape he began
+taking a fresh series of measurements, with reference to the empty
+sockets and one particularly brilliant red gem, which seemed to be
+"number one" in the circle. From time to time the doctor jotted
+down the results and made short calculations. Presently he said:
+"That ought to be enough. Now suppose we--"
+
+At that instant something happened. Harry Wendel caught him by the
+shoulder. He pointed to the suspended stone.
+
+It was moving!
+
+It was revolving, almost imperceptibly, like some vast wheel
+turning on its axis. So slowly did it rotate, the motion would
+have escaped attention were it not for the gems and their
+brilliance.
+
+Suddenly it came to a stop, short and quick, as though it had
+dropped into a notch. And from above they heard the deep, solemn
+clang of the temple bell.
+
+"What is that?" asked Harry, startled. "Who moved the stone?"
+
+"Can it be," flashed Chick, "that Hobart Fenton has found the
+keys?"
+
+"That remains to be seen!" from the doctor. "Come--we must find
+out what has happened!"
+
+Within a minute they knew. As they came out of the private door on
+the now emptied floor of the great temple, they saw the senior
+queen, the Nervina, coming down the great stairway from the Spot
+of Life.
+
+"What is it?" called Harry, apprehensively.
+
+"The Aradna!" she replied. Her voice was curiously strained.
+"Something happened, and--she has fallen through the Spot!"
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+OUT OF THE OCCULT
+
+
+"HOW DID IT HAPPEN?"
+
+"I scarcely know. We went up to play with the dog. It was
+unwilling to leave the place, and Aradna teasingly tried to push
+her off on to the steps. She succeeded, but--well, it was all over
+that quick. The Aradna was gone!"
+
+But the Spot had by this time lost a good deal of its terror.
+Knowing what was on the other side, and who, made a great
+difference. As the doctor said later in a private consultation
+with Chick and Harry:
+
+"It's not so bad. That is, if Hobart Fenton is at work there. I
+think he is. Really, I only regret that we didn't know of this
+beforehand; we could have sent a message through to him."
+
+And the professor went on to explain what he meant. At the time he
+spoke, it was twenty-four hours after the Aradna's going; another
+twenty-four hours would see the evening of the Last Day--the
+sixteenth of the sacred Days of Life--what the Rhamdas alluded to
+as "the Day of Judgment." And the Mahovisal was a seething mass of
+humanity, all bent upon seeing the fulfillment of their highest
+hopes.
+
+"Bear in mind that if the Spot should not open at the last moment,
+you and I are done for. We will be self-condemned 'False Ones';
+our lives will not last one minute after midnight tomorrow night
+if we fail to get through!
+
+"That Prophecy means EVERYTHING to the Thomahlians. There was a
+time when they accepted it on faith; now it is an intellectual
+conviction with every last one of them. And one and all look
+forward to a new and glorious life beyond the Spot--in the occult
+world--our world!
+
+"Now, the ticklish part of the job will be to open the Spot just
+long enough to permit us to get through, yet prevent the whole
+Prophecy from coming to pass. We've got to get through, together
+with that black case of mine, and then shut the door in the face
+of all Thomahlia!"
+
+Nothing more was said on the subject until late the following
+afternoon, as the doctor, Harry, and Chick sat down to a light
+meal. They ate much as if nothing whatever was in the wind. From
+where they sat, in one part of a wing of the temple, they could
+look out into the crowded streets, in which were packed untold
+numbers of pilgrims, all pressing towards the great square plaza
+in front of the temple. No guards were to be seen; the solemnity
+of the occasion was sufficient to keep order. But the terrific
+potentiality of that semi-fanatical host did not cause the
+doctor's voice to change one iota.
+
+"There is no telling what may happen," he said. "For my own part I
+shall not venture near the Spot of Life until just at the end. I
+shall remain in the chamber underneath.
+
+"But you two ought to show yourselves immediately after sundown.
+Certain ancient writings indicate it. You, and the Nervina, will
+have to mount the stair to the Spot, and remain in sight until
+midnight--until the end.
+
+"So we must be prepared for accidents." He took some papers from
+his pocket, and selected two, and gave one to each of his pupils.
+"Here are the details of what must be done. In case only one of us
+gets through, it will be enough."
+
+"But--how can these be of any use, on such short notice?" Harry
+asked.
+
+"Cudgel your brains a bit, gentlemen," he chided good-humouredly.
+"You will soon see my drift. This is one of those occasions when
+the psychic elements involved are such that, without doubt, it
+were best if you reacted naturally to whatever may happen.
+
+"Now you will note that I have made a drawing of the Blind Spot
+region; also certain calculations which will explain themselves.
+
+"Moreover, I have written out the combination to my laboratory
+safe in my house in Berkeley. The green stone is there. Bertha
+will help, as soon as she understands that it is my wish; no
+explanation will be needed.
+
+"You may leave the rest to me, young gentlemen. Act as through you
+had no notion that I was down below the Spot. I shall be merely
+experimenting a bit with that circle of jewels, to see if the
+phenomena which affected the Aradna cannot be repeated. I fancy it
+was not mere accident, but rather the working of a 'period.'"
+
+He said no more about this, except to comment that he hoped to get
+into direct communication with Hobart Fenton before midnight
+should arrive. However, he did say, in an irrelevant sort of
+manner:
+
+"Oh, by the way--do either of you happen to recall which direction
+the house at Chatterton Place faces?"
+
+"North," replied Harry and Chick, almost in the same breath.
+
+"Ah yes. Well, the temple faces south. Can you remember that?"
+
+They thought they could. The rest of the meal was eaten without
+any discussion. Just as they arose, however, the doctor observed:
+
+"It may be that Hobart Fenton has got to come through. I wish I
+knew more about his mentality; it's largely a question of psychic
+influence--the combined, resultant force of the three material
+gems, and the three degrees of psychic vibration as put forth by
+him and you two. We shall see.
+
+"Something happened today--the Geos told me about it--which may
+link up Hobart very definitely. It was about one o'clock when one
+of the temple pheasants began to behave very queerly up on the
+great stair. It had been walking around on the snow-stone, and
+flying a bit; then it started to hop down the steps.
+
+"About sixteen steps down, Geos says the pheasant stopped and
+began to flutter frantically, as though some unseen person were
+holding it. Suddenly it vanished, and as suddenly reappeared
+again. It flew off, unharmed. I can't quite account for it, but--
+well, we'll see!"
+
+He spoke no more, but led the way out into the entrance to the
+wing. There they waited only a moment or two, before the Nervina
+and her retinue arrived. Without delay a start was made for the
+great black stairway.
+
+The doctor alone remained behind.
+
+There was a guard-lined lane through the crowd, allowing the
+Nervina and the rest access to the foot of the steps. Reaching
+that point she paused for a look around.
+
+The sun had just gone down; the artificial lights of the temple
+had not yet been turned on. Overhead, the great storm-cloud hung
+portentously, even more ominous than in the brighter light. The
+huge waterspout columns, the terrific size of the auditorium, were
+none the less impressive for the incalculable horde that filled
+every bit of floor space. At the front of the building the archway
+gave a glimpse of the vastly greater throng waiting outside.
+
+But all was quiet, with the silence of reverence and supreme
+expectation.
+
+The long flight of stairs was lined on either side, from bottom to
+top, with the Rhamdas. On the landing there stood only two of the
+three chairs that Chick had seen on the previous occasion. The
+green one had been brought down and placed in the centre of an
+open spot just at the foot of the stairs.
+
+In this chair sat the Bar Senestro. Deployed about him, at a
+respectful distance, was a semi-circle of the Bars, many hundreds
+in number. Behind the Bars, separating them from the crowds at
+their backs, were grouped the crimson and blue guardsmen. Among
+them, no doubt, were the Jan Lucar and the MacPherson, but Chick
+could locate neither.
+
+The Nervina, taking Harry's arm, ascended the steps. Chick
+followed, with the Rhamda Geos at his side. At the top of the
+flight the Nervina was escorted to one of the chairs, while Chick
+placed the Geos in the other.
+
+It left the two Californians on their feet, to move around to
+whatever extent seemed commensurate with dignity. Chick drew Harry
+aside.
+
+"What do you suppose," said Chick, indicating the handsome,
+confident figure in the chair at the base of the stairs--"what do
+you suppose friend Senestro is thinking about?"
+
+Harry frowned. "You know him better than I do. You don't think he
+has reformed?"
+
+"Not on your life; not the Bar. He's merely adjusted his plans to
+the new situation. He sees that the Prophecy is likely to be
+fulfilled; so, he counts on being the first to get through, after
+the Nervina. Then, whether the rest of the Thomahlia follows or
+not--he calls himself the divinely appointed leader now, I
+understand--he will get through and marry the two Queens anyhow!"
+
+Perhaps it was because the crowd was so terrifically large. Or,
+there may have been something in the destiny of things that would
+not permit the chief actors to feel nervous. Certain it is that
+neither of the two men experienced the least stage fright. Had
+they been on display before a crowd one-tenth the size, anywhere
+else, both would have been ill at ease. This was different--
+enormously so.
+
+No longer was there any circulation in the crowd. People remained
+in their places now, just as they expected the end to find them.
+Chick and Harry marvelled at their composure, strangely in
+contrast with the ceaseless activities of the temple pheasants
+darting everywhere overhead.
+
+Suddenly Harry remarked:
+
+"I've got an idea, Chick! It's this: How does the professor expect
+to send a message to Hobart?" Chick could not guess.
+
+But already Harry had taken his sheet of instructions from his
+pocket, and was rolling it into a compact pellet. Then he went to
+Queen, and with a ribbon borrowed from the Nervina, tied the
+message tightly to the dog's collar.
+
+"Hobart will be certain to see it," said he. "I wonder if the
+doctor's figured it out yet?"
+
+"He's playing with a tremendous force," observed Chick,
+thoughtfully. He reached out and touched the snow-stone with his
+foot, just as he had done before, and fancied that he could feel
+that electric thrill even through the leather of his shoes.
+"Still, it's worth any risk he may be taking down in that chamber.
+If only he could send Queen through! Hobart--"
+
+He never finished the sentence. He staggered, thrown off his
+balance by reason of the fact that he had been resting the weight
+of one foot on the stone and--it moved!
+
+Moved--shifted about its axis, just as it had done forty-eight
+hours previously, when the Aradna had dropped through.
+
+And Chick had only a flash of a second for a glimpse of the
+startled faces of Harry, the Nervina and the Geos, the huge
+multitude below the stair, Queen on the other side, and the
+fateful Prophecy on the walls above him, before--
+
+A figure came into existence at his side. It was that of a
+powerfully built man, on whose wrists were curious red circles.
+And Chick shouted in a great voice:
+
+"Hobart!"
+
+And then came blackness.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+THE LAST LEAF
+
+
+Watson's story was now completed. During the entire recital his
+auditors had spoken scarcely a word. It had been marvellous--
+almost a revelation. With the possible exception of Sir Henry
+Hodges, not one had expected that it would measure up to this. For
+the whole thing backed up Holcomb's original proposition:
+
+"The Occult is concrete."
+
+Certainly, if what Watson had told them was true, then Infinity
+had been squared by itself. Not only was there an infinity that we
+might look up to through the stars, but there was another just as
+great, co-existent, here upon the earth. The occult became not
+only possible, but unlimited.
+
+The next few minutes would prove whether or not he had told the
+truth.
+
+It was now close to midnight.
+
+Jerome and General Hume had returned from Berkeley. Their quest
+had been successful; Watson now had the missing green stone. A
+number of soldiers were stationed about the house. Watson noted
+these men when he had finished his account, and said:
+
+"Good. We may need them, although I hope not. Fortunately the Spot
+is small, and a few of us can hold it against a good many. What we
+must do is to extricate our friends and close it. Afterward we may
+have time for more leisurely investigation. But we must remember,
+above all things, that black case of Professor Holcomb's! It holds
+the secrets.
+
+"Now I must ask you all to step out of this room. This library,
+you know, is the Blind Spot."
+
+He directed them to take positions along the balustrade of the
+stairway, out in the hall--through the wide archway, where they
+could have a clear view, yet be safe.
+
+It was a curious test. With nothing but his mathematics and his
+drawing to go by, Watson was about to set the three stones in
+their invisible sockets. He spread the map out carefully, likewise
+his calculations; they gave him, on this floor, the precise
+positions that he charted on the earth of the cellar. A glance
+toward the front of the house--north--then a little measuring,
+three chalk-marks on the carpet, and he was ready for the final
+move.
+
+He took the fateful ring and with a penknife pried up the prongs
+that held the stone. As it popped out he caught it with one hand.
+Then he looked at the row of wondering faces along the stair.
+
+"I think it will work," he said. "But, remember--don't come near!
+I shall get out as best I can myself; don't try to save me."
+
+With that he held the jewel on the first of the three chalk-marks
+on the circumference of the great circle. He held it tight against
+the carpet and then let go. Up it flashed about one foot--and
+disappeared.
+
+There was no sound. Next Watson took the red stone. With it, the
+process was inverted. Instead of holding it to the floor he raised
+it as high as he could reach, directly above the second mark. Then
+he let it drop.
+
+It did not reach the floor. It fell a little more than halfway,
+and vanished.
+
+The third stone, the green one, was still remaining. Watson took
+it to the third and final mark on the circle, taking care to keep
+outside the circumference that marked the Spot. This mark was
+directly in front of the archway. He turned to them.
+
+"Watch carefully," he spoke. "I do not know what has transpired in
+the temple during the past few hours. Be ready for ANYTHING. All
+of you!"
+
+He dropped the stone.
+
+With the same motion he dodged out into the hall.
+
+Though there was no sound there was something that every one felt--a
+sibilant undertone and cold vibration--a tense flash of magnetism.
+Then the dot of blue--a string of incandescence; just as had been
+spoken.
+
+The Blind Spot was opening.
+
+Watson silently warned the others to remain where they were and
+himself crowded back against the stair. And as he did so, someone
+came noiselessly down the steps from the floor above, passed
+unnoticed behind the watchers and thence across into the hall.
+
+It was a slender, frail figure in white--the Aradna, walking like
+one in the grip of a higher will. Before they could make a move
+she had stepped into the Blind Spot, under the dot of blue, and
+into a string of light. And then--she was gone.
+
+It was as swift as a guess. It was inexorable and unseen; and
+being unseen, close akin to terror. The group watched and waited,
+scarcely breathing. What would happen next?
+
+There came a sudden, jarring click--like the tapping of iron. And
+next instant--
+
+The Spot opened to human sight.
+
+The library at 288 Chatterton Place was gone. Instead, the people
+on the stairs were gazing down from the Spot of Life, straight
+into the colossal Temple of the Jarados.
+
+It was as Chick had described it--immense--beyond conception.
+Through the great doors and out into the plaza beyond was gathered
+all Thomahlia, reverent, like those waiting for the crack of doom.
+
+Above the horde, high on the opposite wall, stood out the monster
+Clover Leaf of the Jarados; three-coloured--blazing like liquid
+fire; it was ominous with real life.
+
+At that moment the whole concourse rippled with commotion. Arms
+were uplifted; one and all pointed towards the dais. They, too
+were looking through the Spot. Then the multitude began to move.
+
+It heaved and surged and rolled toward the centre. The guards were
+pressed in upon the Bars, the Bars upon the Rhamda-lined stair.
+There was no resisting that flood of humanity. On and up it came,
+sweeping everything before it.
+
+Directly in the foreground lay the snow-stone. On its centre stood
+the dog Queen, crouching, waiting, bristling. By her side Harry
+Wendel crouched on one knee, as if awaiting the signal. Behind
+him, the Nervina, supporting the awakening Aradna. And in front of
+all, the powerful bulk of Hobart Fenton, standing squarely at the
+head of the stair, ready to grapple the first to reach the
+landing.
+
+But most important of all, there stood the doctor himself. He was
+at the Nervina's side; in his hand, the case of priceless data. He
+was gazing through the Spot and making a signal of some kind to
+Watson, whereupon the latter leaped to the edge of the unseen
+circle.
+
+Something had gone wrong. The Spot was not fully open. Nothing but
+sight could get through.
+
+Yet there was no time for anything. Up the stairs came the Bars,
+leading and being pressed forward by the horde. At their head
+dashed the Bar Senestro, handsome as Alexander. Hobart stepped
+forward to meet him, but the doctor stopped him with a word.
+
+Only a few seconds elapsed between death and salvation. Again Dr.
+Holcomb signed to Watson; not a sound came through. Watson
+hesitated.
+
+The dog Queen shot to her feet. Then the Senestro, out-distancing
+all the rest and dodging Hobart, had leaped upon the dais.
+
+Upon the wall across the temple the great Leaf of the Jarados
+stood out like sinister fire. It pulsed and vibrated--alive. The
+top petal--the blue one--suddenly broke into a seething wave of
+flame.
+
+Still Watson held back. He could not understand what Holcomb
+meant.
+
+Queen waited only until the Senestro set foot on the dais. She
+crouched, then leaped.
+
+It was done.
+
+With a lightning shift of his nimble feet, the high-tempered Bar
+kicked the shepherd in the side. Caught at full leap, she was
+knocked completely over and fell upon the snow-stone.
+
+It was the Sacrilege!
+
+Even the Bars beyond the Senestro stopped in horror. The Four-
+Footed One--sacred to the Jarados--it was she who had been
+touched! Had the Senestro undone all on the Spot of Judgment, What
+would be the end?
+
+Fenton acted. He caught the Senestro before he could get his
+balance and with a mighty heave hurled him over the side of the
+stair. A second, and it was over.
+
+Another second was the last. For the great Leaf of the Jarados had
+opened.
+
+The green and red stood still; but out of the blue came a dazzling
+light, a powerful beam; so brilliant, it seemed solid. It shot
+across the whole sweep of the temple and touched the Prophecy.
+Over the golden scrolls it traced its marvellous colour, until it
+came to the lines:
+
+  Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I
+  have given ye, and the day be postponed--beware ye of
+  sacrilege!
+
+For a moment the strange light stood still, so that the checked
+millions might read. Then it turned upon the dais.
+
+There it spread, and hovered over the group, until it seemed to
+work them together--the Nervina to Harry, the Aradna to Hobart.
+Not one of them knew what it was; they obeyed by impulse--it was
+their destiny; the Chosen, and the queens.
+
+The light stopped at the foot of Dr. Holcomb. Then the strangest
+thing happened.
+
+Out of the light--or rather, from where it bathed the snowstone--
+came a man; a man much like Holcomb, bearded and short and kindly.
+
+He was the real Jarados!
+
+Unhesitatingly the professor stepped up beside him. Then followed
+Hobart and the Aradna, Harry and the Nervina, and lastly, from the
+crowd of Bars, MacPherson. The whole concourse in the temple
+stopped in awe and terror.
+
+Only for a second. Then the Jarados and all at his side--were
+gone.
+
+And upon the snow-stone there stood a sword of living flame.
+
+It stood there for just a breath, exactly where the group had
+been.
+
+And it was gone.
+
+That was all.
+
+No; not quite all. For when the Blind Spot closed that night at
+288 Chatterton Place, there came once more the deep, solemn peal
+of the Bell of the Jarados.
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+THE UNACCOUNTABLE
+
+
+Were this account merely a work of fiction, it would harmonise
+things so as to have no unaccountables in it. As it is, the
+present writers will have to make this quite clear:
+
+It is not known why the Rhamda Avec failed to show himself at the
+crucial moment. Perhaps he could have changed everything. We can
+only surmise; he has not been seen or heard from since.
+
+Which also is true of Mr. Chick Watson. He disappeared immediately
+after the closing of the Spot, saying that he was going to Bertha
+Holcomb's home. No trace has been found of either to date.
+Doubtless the reader has noted advertisement in the papers,
+appealing to the authorities to report any one of Watson's
+description applying for a marriage licence.
+
+As for his two friends, Wendel and Fenton, together with the
+Aradna and the Nervina, they and MacPherson and the doctor
+absolutely vanished from all the knowledge, either of the
+Thomahlia or the earth. The Jarados alone can tell of them.
+
+Mme. Le Fabre, however, feels that she can explain the matter
+satisfactorily. Abridged, her theory runs:
+
+"There is but one way to explore the Occult. That way is to die.
+
+"For all that we were so strongly impressed with the reality of
+Mr. Watson, I am firmly convinced that he was simply a spirit;
+that everything we saw was spirit manifestation.
+
+"Dr. Holcomb and all the rest have simply gone on to another
+plane. We shall never see them again. They are dead; no other
+explanation will hold. They are spirits."
+
+Giving this version to the public strictly for what it is worth,
+the present writers feel it only right to submit the conclusions
+reached by Dr. Malloy and concurred in by Drs. Higgins and Hansen,
+also, with reservations, by Professor Herold and by Miss Clarke.
+
+"To a certain extent, and up to a certain point, it is possible to
+account for the astonishing case of the Blind Spot by means of
+well-known psychological principles. Hallucinations will cover a
+great deal of ground.
+
+"But we feel that our personal experiences, in witnessing the
+interior of the Thomahlia cannot be thus explained away. Our
+accounts tally too exactly; and we are not subject to group
+hypnosis.
+
+"To explain this we believe a new hypothesis is called for. We
+submit that what we saw was not unreal. Assuming that a thing is
+real or unreal, and can never be in a third state which is neither
+one nor the other, then we should have to insist that what we saw
+was REAL.
+
+"We stand ready and prepared to accept any theory which will fit
+all facts, not merely a portion."
+
+Again refraining from any comment we pass on to the more
+exhaustive opinion of Sir Henry Hodges. Inasmuch as this seems to
+coincide very closely with the hypothesis of Professor Holcomb,
+and as the reputation of Sir Henry is a thing of weight, we are
+quoting him almost verbatim:
+
+"There is a well-known experiment in chemistry, wherein equal
+quantities of water and alcohol are mixed. Let us say, a pint of
+each. Now, the resulting mixture ought to be a quart; but it is
+not. It is somewhat less than a quart.
+
+"Strange, indeed, to the novice, but a commonplace to every
+student of the subject. It is strange only that, except for Dr.
+Holcomb and this man Avec, science has overlooked the stupendous
+significance and suggestion of this particular fact.
+
+"Now, consider another well-known fact: No matter how you try you
+cannot prevent gravity from acting. It will pull every object
+down, regardless of how you try to screen it from the earth.
+
+"Why? Because gravity penetrates all things. Again, why? Why
+should gravity penetrate all things?
+
+"The answer is, because gravity is a function of the ether. And
+the ether is an imponderable substance, so impalpable that it
+passes right through all solids as though they were not there.
+
+"These are two highly suggestive points. They show us, first, that
+two substances can exist within the space formerly thought to be
+completely filled by one. Second, they show that ALL substances
+are porous to the ether.
+
+"Very well. Bear in mind that we know nothing whatever directly
+about the ether; our knowledge is all indirect. Therefore--
+
+"It may be that there is more than one ether!
+
+"Conceive what this means. If there were another ether, how could
+we become aware of it? Only through the medium of some such
+phenomenon as the Blind Spot; not through ordinary channels. For
+the ordinary channels are microscopes and test-tubes, every one of
+which, when traced to the ultimate, is simply a concrete
+expression of THE ONE ETHER WE KNOW!
+
+"In the nature of the case our five senses could never apprehend a
+second ether.
+
+"Yet, knowing what we do about the structure of the atom, of
+electronic activity, of quantels, we must admit that there is a
+huge, unoccupied space--that is, we can't see that it is occupied--
+in and between the interstices of the atom.
+
+"It is in the region, mingled and intertwined with the electrons
+which make up the world we know so well, that--in my opinion--the
+Thomahlian world exists. It is actually coexistent with our own.
+It is here, and so are we. At this very instant, at any given
+spot, there can be, and almost certainly is, more than one solid
+object--two systems of materiality, two systems of life, two
+systems of death. And if two, why, then, perhaps there are even
+more!
+
+"Holcomb is right. We are Infinity. Only our five senses make us
+finite."
+
+Charlotte Fenton does not indulge in speculation. She seems to
+bear up wonderfully well in the face of Harry Wendel's affinity
+for the Nervina, and also in the face of her brother's
+disappearance. And she philosophically states:
+
+"When Columbus returned from his search for the East Indies, he
+triumphantly announced that he had found what he sought.
+
+"He was mistaken. He had found something else--America.
+
+"It may be that we are all mistaken. It may be that something
+entirely different from what any one has suspected has been found.
+Time will tell. I am willing to wait."
+
+To make it complete, it is felt that the following statement of
+General Hume is not only essential, but convincing to the last
+degree.
+
+"My view regarding this mystery is simply this: I have eyes, and I
+have seen. I don't know whether the actors were living or dead. I
+am no scientist; I have no theory. I only know. And I will swear
+to what I saw.
+
+"I am a soldier. The two men who are bringing this to press have
+shown me their copy.
+
+"It is correct."
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BLIND SPOT ***
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