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The rough notes from which this narrative hasbeen constructed were given to me by the manwho tells the story. For obvious reasons I havealtered the names of the principals, and I herebypass on the assurance which I have received, thatthe originals of such as are left alive can be foundif their discovery be thought desirable. Thisalteration of names, the piecing together of somewhatdisconnected and sometimes nearly indecipherablememoranda, and the reduction of themass to consecutive form, are all that has beenrequired of me or would have been permitted tome. The expedition to Labrador mentioned bythe narrator has not returned, nor has it ever beendefinitely traced. He does not undertake to provethat it ever set out. But he avers that all which ishereafter set down is truly told, and he leaves itto mankind to accept the warning which it hasfallen to him to convey, or await the proof of itssincerity which he believes the end of the centurywill produce.

THE CRACK OF DOOM

CHAPTER I.
THE UNIVERSE A MISTAKE!

Thus spake Herbert Brande, a passenger on theMajestic, making for Queenstown Harbour, oneevening early in the past year. Foolish as thewords may seem, they were partly influential inleading to my terrible association with him, and allthat is described in this book.

Brande was standing beside me on the starboardside of the vessel. We had been discussinga current astronomical essay, as we watchedthe hazy blue line of the Irish coast rise on thehorizon. This conversation was interrupted byBrande, who said, impatiently:

"Why tell us of stars distant so far from this[2]insignificant little world of ours—so insignificantthat even its own inhabitants speak disrespectfullyof it—that it would take hundreds of yearsto telegraph to some of them, thousands to others,and millions to the rest? Why limit oneself toa mere million of years for a dramatic illustration,when there is a star in space distant so farfrom us that if a telegram left the earth for itthis very night, and maintained for ever its initialvelocity, it would never reach that star?"

He said this without any apparent effort afterrhetorical effect; but the suddenness with which hehad presented a very obvious truism in a freshlight to me made the conception of the vastnessof space absolutely oppressive. In the hope ofchanging the subject I replied:

"Nothing is gained by dwelling on these scientificspeculations. The mind is only bewildered.The Universe is inexplicable."

"The Universe!" he exclaimed. "That is easilyexplained. The Universe is a mistake!"

"The greatest mistake of the century, I suppose,"I added, somewhat annoyed, for I thoughtBrande was laughing at me.

"Say, of Time, and I agree with you," hereplied, careless of my astonishment.[3]

This man Brande was young in years, butmiddle-aged in the expression of his pale, intellectualface, and old—if age be synonymous withknowledge—in his ideas. His knowledge, indeed,was so exhaustive that the scientific pleasantriesto which he was prone could always be justified,dialectically at least, by him when he wascontradicted. Those who knew him well did notargue with him. I was always stumbling intointellectual pitfalls, for I had only known himsince the steamer left New York.

As to myself, there is little to be told. Myhistory prior to my acquaintance with Brandewas commonplace. I was merely an active,athletic Englishman, Arthur Marcel by name. Ihad studied medicine, and was a doctor in all butthe degree. This certificate had been dispensedwith owing to an unexpected legacy, on receiptof which I determined to devote it to the furtheranceof my own amusement. In the pursuitof this object, I had visited many lands and hadbecome familiar with most of the beaten tracksof travel. I was returning to England after anabsence of three years spent in aimless roaming.My age was thirty-one years, and my salient[4]characteristic at the time was to hold fast byanything that interested me, until my humourchanged. Brande's conversational vagaries hadamused me on the voyage. His extraordinarycomment on the Universe decided me to cementour shipboard acquaintance before reaching port.

"That explanation of yours," I said, lightinga fresh cigar, and returning to a subject whichI had so recently tried to shelve, "isn't itrather vague?"

To force him into admitting that his phrasewas only a thoughtless exclamation, or induce himto defend it, I said:

"It does not serve any reasonable purpose. Itadds nothing to knowledge. As it stands, it isneither academic nor practical."

"The academic value of the explanation willbe shown to you if you will join a society I havefounded; and its practicalness will soon be madeplain whether you join or not."

"We do not call it a club. We call it a Society—theCui Bono Society," he answered coldly.

"I like the name," I returned. "It issuggestive. It may mean anything—or nothing."

This was said in the dry, unemotional tonewhich I afterwards found was the only sign ofdispleasure Brande ever permitted himself to show.His arrangements for going on shore at Queenstownhad been made early in the day, but he leftme to look for his sister, of whom I had seenvery little on the voyage. The weather had beenrough, and as she was not a good sailor, I hadonly had a rare glimpse of a very dark and handsomegirl, whose society possessed for me astrange attraction, although we were then almoststrangers. Indeed, I regretted keenly, as thetime of our separation approached, having registeredmy luggage (consisting largely of curiosand mementoes of my travels, of which I wasvery careful) for Liverpool. My own time wasvalueless, and it would have been more agreeableto me to continue the journey with the Brandes,no matter where they went.

There was a choppy sea on when we reached[6]the entrance to the harbour, so theMajesticsteamed in between the Carlisle and Camden forts,and on to the man-of-war roads, where the tendermet us. By this time, Brande and his sister wereready to go on shore; but as there was a heavymail to be transhipped, we had still an hour atour disposal. For some time we paced the deck,exchanging commonplaces on the voyage andconfidences as to our future plans. It was almostdark, but not dark enough to prevent us fromseeing those wonderfully green hills which landlockthe harbour. To me the verdant woods andhills were delightful after the brown plains andinterminable prairies on which I had spent manymonths. As the lights of Queenstown began tospeck the slowly gathering gloom, Miss Brandeasked me to point out Rostellan Castle. It couldnot be seen from the vessel, but the familiarlegend was easily recalled, and this led us to talkabout Irish tradition with its weird romance andnever failing pathos. This interested her. Freednow from the lassitude of sea-sickness, the girlbecame more fascinating to me every moment.Everything she said was worth listening to, apartfrom the charming manner in which it was said.

To declare that she was an extremely pretty[7]girl would not convey the strange, almost unearthly,beauty of her face—as intellectual asher brother's—and of the charm of her slight butexquisitely moulded figure. In her dark eyesthere was a sympathy, a compassion, that wasnew to me. It thrilled me with an emotiondifferent from anything that my frankly happy,but hitherto wholly selfish life had known. Therewas only one note in her conversation which jarredupon me. She was apt to drift into the extraordinaryviews of life and death which wereinteresting when formulated by her eccentricbrother, but pained me coming from her lips.In spite of this, the purpose I had contemplatedof joining Brande's Society—evoked as it hadbeen by his own whimsical observation—now tookdefinite form. I would join that Society. Itwould be the best way of keeping near to NatalieBrande.

Her brother returned to us to say that thetender was about to leave the ship. He had leftus for half an hour. I did not notice his absenceuntil he himself announced it. As we shookhands, I said to him:

"I am very glad," he replied. "You will findit a new sensation, quite outside the beaten track,which you know so well."

There was a shade of half-kindly contemptin his voice, which missed me at the moment.I answered gaily, knowing that he would notbe offended by what was said in jest:

"I am sure I shall. If all the members areas mad as yourself, it will be the most interestingexperience outside Bedlam that anyman could wish for."

As Miss Brande was walking to the gangway,a lamp shone full upon her gypsy face.The blue-black hair, the dark eyes, and a deepred rose she wore in her bonnet, seemed to mean exquisite arrangement of harmonious colour.And the thought flashed into my mind veryvividly, however trivial it may seem here, whenwritten down in cold words: "The queen ofwomen, and the queen of flowers." That is notprecisely how my thought ran, but I cannotdescribe it better. The finer subtleties of thebrain do not bear well the daylight oflanguage.

Brande drew her back and whispered to her.[9]Then the sweet face, now slightly flushed, wasturned to me again.

"Oh, thank you for that pretty thought," shesaid with a pleasant smile. "You are tooflattering. The 'queen of flowers' is very true,but the 'queen of women!' Oh, no!" She madea graceful gesture of dissent, and passed downthe gangway.

As the tender disappeared into the darkness,a tiny scrap of lace waved, and I knewvaguely that she was thinking of me. But howshe read my thought so exactly I could not tell.

CHAPTER II.
A STRANGE EXPERIMENT.

Soon after my arrival in London, I called onBrande, at the address he had given me in BrookStreet. He received me with the pleasantaffability which a man of the world easilyassumes, and his apology for being unable topass the evening with me in his own house wasa model of social style. The difficulty in theway was practically an impossibility. HisSociety had a meeting on that evening, and itwas imperative that he should be present.

"Why not come yourself?" he said. "It iswhat we might call a guest night. That is,visitors, if friends of members, are admitted,and as this privilege may not be again accordedto outsiders, you ought to come before you decidefinally to join us. I must go now, but Natalie"(he did not say "Miss Brande") "will entertainyou and bring you to the hall. It is very near—inHanover Square."[11]

"I shall be very glad indeed to bring MissBrande to the hall," I answered, changing thesentence in order to correct Brande's too patronisingphrase.

"The same thing in different words, is itnot? If you prefer it that way, please haveit so." His imperturbability was unaffected.

Miss Brande here entered the room. Her brother,with a word of renewed apology, left us, andpresently I saw him cross the street and haila passing hansom.

"You must not blame him for running off,"Miss Brande said. "He has much to think of,and the Society depends almost wholly on himself."

I stammered out that I did not blame himat all, and indeed my disclaimer was absolutelytrue. Brande could not have pleased me betterthan he had done by relieving us of his company.

Miss Brande made tea, which I pretended toenjoy in the hope of pleasing her. Over thiswe talked more like old and well proven friendsthan mere acquaintances of ten days' standing.Just once or twice the mysterious chord whichmarred the girl's charming conversation wastouched. She immediately changed the subject[12]on observing my distress. I say distress, for aweaker word would not fittingly describe theemotion I felt whenever she blundered into thepseudo-scientific nonsense which was her brother'sfavourite affectation. At least, it seemed nonsenseto me. I could not well foresee then thatthe theses which appeared to be mere theoreticalabsurdities, would ever be proven—as theyhave been—very terrible realities. On subjectsof ordinary educational interest my hostess displayedsuch full knowledge of the questionand ease in dealing with it, that I listened, fascinated,as long as she chose to continue speaking.It was a novel and delightful experience to heara girl as handsome as a pictorial masterpiece,and dressed like a court beauty, discourse withthe knowledge, and in the language, of theoldest philosopher. But this was only one ofthe many surprising combinations in her complexpersonality. My noviciate was still in its firststage.

The time to set out for the meeting arrivedall too soon for my inclination. We decided towalk, the evening being fine and not too warm,and the distance only a ten minutes' stroll. Ata street crossing, we met a crowd unusually[13]large for that neighbourhood. Miss Brandeagain surprised me. She was watching thecrowd seething and swarming past. Her darkeyes followed the people with a strange wondering,pitying look which I did not understand.Her face, exquisite in its expression at all times,was now absolutely transformed, beatified.Brande had often spoken to me of mesmerism,clairvoyance, and similar subjects, and it occurredto me that he had used his sister as a medium,a clairvoyante. Her brain was not, therefore,under normal control. I determined instantlyto tell him on the first opportunity that if hedid not wish to see the girl permanently injured,he would have to curtail his hypnoticinfluence.

"It is rather a stirring sight," I said so sharplyto Miss Brande that she started. I meant tostartle her, but did not succeed as far as Iwished.

As she did not remove her hand, I did notinfringe the silence which followed this, until[14]a break in the traffic allowed us to cross thestreet. Then I said:

"I assure you many are very happy," I replied."You take a morbid view. Misery isnot the rule. I am sure the majority arehappy."

"What difference does that make?" the girlsaid with a sigh. "What is the end of itall—the meaning of it all? Their happiness!Cui Bono?"

We walked on in silence, while I turned overin my mind what she had said. I could come tono conclusion upon it save that my dislike for herenigmatic aberrations was becoming more intenseas my liking for the girl herself increased. Tochange the current of her thoughts and my own,I asked her abruptly:

"I am delighted to hear it," I said heartily,"and I hope the rule will continue in force."[15]

"That is different. I don't approve of ladiesmixing themselves up in these curious and perhapsquestionable societies."

My remark amused her. Her eyes sparkledwith simple fun. The change in her manner wasvery agreeable to me.

"I might have expected that." To my extremesatisfaction she now looked almost mischievous."Herbert told me you were a little—"

"Well, a little—you won't be vexed? Thatis right. He said a little—mediæval."

This abated my appreciation of her sense ofhumour, and I maintained a dignified reticence,which unhappily she regarded as mere sullenness,until we reached the Society's room.

The place was well filled, and the company,in spite of the extravagantly modern costumesof the younger women, which I cannot describebetter than by saying that there was little differencein it from that of ordinary male attire,was quite conventional in so far as the interchangeof ordinary courtesies went. When, however,any member of the Society mingled with[16]a group of visitors, the conversation was soonturned into a new channel. Secrets of science,which I had been accustomed to look upon asundiscoverable, were bandied about like themerest commonplaces of education. The absurdityof individuality and the subjectivity ofthe emotions were alike insisted on withoutnotice of the paradox, which to me appeared extreme.The Associates were altruistic for thesake of altruism, not for the sake of its beneficiaries.They were not pantheists, for theysaw neither universal good nor God, but ratherevil in all things—themselves included. Theirtalk, however, was brilliant, and, with allowancefor its jarring sentiments, it possessed somethingof the indefinable charm which followed Brande.My reflections on this identity of interest wereinterrupted by the man himself. After a wordof welcome he said:

"Let me show you our great experiment; thatwhich touches the high-water mark of scientificachievement in the history of humanity. It isnot much in itself, but it is the pioneer of manymarvels."

He brought me to a metal stand, on which asmall instrument constructed of some white metal[17]was placed. A large number of wires were connectedwith various portions of it, and thesewires passed into the side-wall of the building.

In appearance, this marvel of micrology, sofar as the eye-piece and upper portions went,was like an ordinary microscope, but its magnifyingpower was to me unbelievable. It magnifiedthe object under examination many thousandtimes more than the most powerful microscopein the world.

I looked through the upper lens, and saw asmall globe suspended in the middle of a tinychamber filled with soft blue light, or transparentmaterial. Circling round this globe four otherspheres revolved in orbits, some almost circular,some elliptical, some parabolic. As I looked,Brande touched a key, and the little globulesbegan to fly more rapidly round their primary,and make wider sweeps in their revolutions.Another key was pressed, and the revolvingspheres slowed down and drew closer until Icould scarcely distinguish any movement. Theglobules seemed to form a solid ball.

He tapped the first key sharply. A little grey[18]cloud obscured the blue light. When it clearedaway, the revolving globes had disappeared.

"What is it? What does it mean? Is it thesolar system or some other system illustratedin miniature? I am sorry for the misadventure."

"You are partly correct," Brande replied. "Itis an illustration of a planetary system, though asmall one. But there was no misadventure. Icaused the somewhat dangerous result you witnessed,the wreckage not merely of the moleculeof marsh gas you were examining—which anyeducated chemist might do as easily as I—butthe wreckage of its constituent atoms. This isa scientific victory which dwarfs the work ofHelmholtz, Avogadro, or Mendelejeff. The immortalDalton himself" (the word "immortal" wasspoken with a sneer) "might rise from his graveto witness it."

"You were looking on at the death of a molecule—amolecule of marsh gas, as I have alreadysaid. It was caused by a process which I would[19]describe to you if I could reduce my own lifework—and that of every scientific amateur whohas preceded me since the world began—intohalf a dozen sentences. As that would be difficult,I must ask you to accept my personal assurancethat you witnessed a fact, not a fiction of myimagination."

"And your instrument is so perfect that it notonly renders molecules and atoms but their diffusionvisible? It is a microscopic impossibility.At least it is amazing."

"Pshaw!" Brande exclaimed impatiently. "Myinstrument does certainly magnify to a marvellousextent, but not by the old device of the simplemicroscope, which merely focussed a large areaof light rays into a small one. So crude a processcould never show an atom to the human eye.I add much to that. I restore to the rays themselvesthe luminosity which they lost in theirpassage through our atmosphere. I give themback all their visual properties, and turn themwith their full etheric blaze on the object underexamination. Great as that achievement is, Ideny that it is amazing. It may amaze a Papuanto see his eyelash magnified to the size of a wire,or an uneducated Englishman to see a cheese-mite[20]magnified to the size of a midge. It shouldnot amaze you to see a simple process a littlefurther developed."

"Where does the danger you spoke of comein?" I asked with a pretence of interest. Candidly,I did not believe a single word that Brandehad said.

"If you will consult a common text-book on thephysics of the ether," he replied, "you will findthat one grain of matter contains sufficient energy,if etherised, to raise a hundred thousand tonsnearly two miles. In face of such potentialityit is not wise to wreck incautiously even theatoms of a molecule."

"There are no limits," Brande said decisively."No man can say to science 'thus far and nofarther.' No man ever has been able to do so.No man ever shall!"

CHAPTER III.
"IT IS GOOD TO BE ALIVE."

Amongst the letters lying on my breakfast-table afew days after the meeting was one addressed inan unfamiliar hand. The writing was bold, andformed like a man's. There was a faint trace of aperfume about the envelope which I remembered.I opened it first.

It was, as I expected, from Miss Brande. Herbrother had gone to their country place on thesouthern coast. She and her friend, Edith Metford,were going that day. Their luggage was alreadyat the station. Would I send on what I requiredfor a short visit, and meet them at eleven o'clockon the bridge over the Serpentine? It wasenough for me. I packed a large portmanteauhastily, sent it to Charing Cross, and spent thetime at my disposal in the park, which was closeto my hotel.

Although the invitation I had received gave[22]me pleasure, I could not altogether remove frommy mind a vague sense of disquietude concerningHerbert Brande and his Society. Theadvanced opinions I had heard, if extreme, werenot altogether alarming. But the mysteriousway in which Brande himself had spokenabout the Society, and the still more mysteriousair which some of the members assumedwhen directly questioned as to its object, suggestedmuch. Might it not be a revolutionaryparty engaged in a grave intrigue—abranch of some foreign body whose purposewas so dangerous that ordinary disguises werenot considered sufficiently secure? Might theynot have adopted the jargon and pretended tothe opinions of scientific faddists as a cloak fordesigns more sinister and sincere? The experimentI witnessed might be almost a miracle ormerely a trick. Thinking it over thus, I couldcome to no final opinion, and when I asked myselfaloud, "What are you afraid of?" I could notanswer my own question. But I thought I woulddefer joining the Society pending further information.

A few minutes before eleven, I walked towardsthe bridge over the Serpentine. No ladies appeared[23]to be on it. There were only a coupleof smartly dressed youths there, one smoking acigarette. I sauntered about until one of thelads, the one who was not smoking, looked upand beckoned to me. I approached leisurely, forit struck me that the boy would have shownbetter breeding if he had come toward me, consideringmy seniority.

"I am sorry I did not notice you sooner. Whydid you not come on when you saw us?" thesmallest and slimmest youth called to me.

"Brande; you haven't forgotten my name, Ihope," Natalie Brande said coolly. "This is myfriend, Edith Metford. Metford, this is ArthurMarcel."

"How do you do, Marcel? I am glad to meetyou; I have heard 'favourable mention' of youfrom the Brandes," the second figure in knickerbockerssaid pleasantly.

"How do you do, sir—madam—I mean—Miss—" Iblundered, and then in despair I askedMiss Brande, "Is this a tableau vivant? Whatis the meaning of these disguises?" My embarrassmentwas so great that my discourteousquestion may be pardoned.[24]

"Our dress! Surely you have seen womenrationally dressed before!" Miss Brande answeredcomplacently, while the other girl watched myastonishment with evident amusement.

This second girl, Edith Metford, was a frank,handsome young woman, but unlike the spirituellebeauty of Natalie Brande. She was perceptiblytaller than her friend, and of fullerfigure. In consequence, she looked, in my opinion,to even less advantage in her eccentric costume, orrational dress, than did Miss Brande.

Miss Metford interrupted me. "Do you callthe divided skirt atrocity rational dress?" sheasked pointedly.

These girls were too advanced in theirideas of dress for me. Nor did I feelat all at my ease during this conversation,which did not, however, appear to embarrassthem. I proposed hastily to get a cab, butthey demurred. It was such a lovely day, theypreferred to walk, part of the way at least. Ipointed out that there might be drawbacks tothis amendment of my proposal.[25]

"For instance, isn't it probable we shall all bearrested by the police?" I replied.

"Which is lucky for you," I reflected, as wecommenced what was to me a most disagreeablewalk. I got them into a cab sooner than theywished. At the railway station I did not offerto procure their tickets. To do so, I felt, wouldonly give offence. Critical glances followed usas we went to our carriage. Londoners are becomingaccustomed to varieties, if not vagaries, inladies' costumes, but the dress of my friends wasevidently a little out of the common even forthem. Miss Metford was just turning the handleof a carriage door, when I interposed, saying,"This is a smoking compartment."

"I don't suppose it would make any differenceif I did," I said, with unconscious asperity, forindeed this excess of free manners was jarringupon me. The line dividing it from vulgaritywas becoming so thin I was losing sight of thedivisor. Yet no one, even the most fastidious,[26]could associate vulgarity with Natalie Brande.There remained an air of unassumed sincerityabout herself and all her actions, including evenher dress, which absolutely excluded her fromhostile criticism. I could not, however, extendthat lenient judgment to Miss Metford. Thegirls spoke and acted—as they had dressed themselves—verymuch alike. Only, what seemedto me in the one a natural eccentricity, seemedin the other an unnatural affectation.

I saw the guard passing, and, calling him over,gave him half-a-crown to have the compartmentlabelled, "Engaged."

Miss Brande, who had been looking out of thewindow, absently asked my reason for this precaution.I replied that I wanted the compartmentreserved for ourselves. I certainly didnot want any staring and otherwise offensivefellow-passengers.

"No," I admitted. "We don't want the extraseats. But I thought you might like theprivacy."

"The desire for privacy is an archaic emotion,"Miss Metford remarked sententiously, as shestruck a match.[27]

"Besides, it is so selfish. We may be crowdingothers," Miss Brande said quietly.

"I don't want that now," I said to a porterwho was hurrying up with a label. To the girlsI remarked a little snappishly, "Of course youare quite right. You must excuse my ignorance."

"No, it is not ignorance," Miss Brande demurred."You have been away so much. Youhave hardly been in England, you told me, foryears, and—"

"So it seems," Miss Metford remarked so significantlythat I really could not help retortingwith as much emphasis, compatible with politeness,as I could command:

"You see I am therefore unable to appreciatethe New Woman, of whom I have heard so muchsince I came home."

"The conventional New Woman is a grandmotherlyold fossil," Miss Metford said quietly.

Miles of green fields stippled with daisies and[28]bordered with long lines of white and red hawthornhedges flew past. The smell of new-mownhay filled the carriage with its sweet perfume,redolent of old associations. My long absencedwindled to a short holiday. The world's widehighways were far off. I was back in the Englishfields. My slight annoyance passed away. I fellinto a pleasant day-dream, which was broken by asoft voice, every undulation of which I alreadyknew by heart.

"It is quite possible." I said this with so muchconviction that the two burst out laughing at me.I could not think of anything more to add, and Ifelt relieved when, with a warning shriek, thetrain dashed into a tunnel. By the time we hademerged again into the sunlight and the solitudeof the open landscape I had ready an impromptu[29]which I had been working at in the darkness. Ilooked straight at Miss Metford and said:

"Why the deuce would you do that?" MissMetford replied with great composure, as she blewa smoke ring.

When we reached our destination I braced myselffor another disagreeable minute or two. Forif the great Londoners thought us quaint, surelythe little country station idlers would swear wewere demented. We crossed the platform soquickly that the wonderment we created soonpassed. Our luggage was looked after by aservant, to whose care I confided it with a verybrief description. The loss of an item of it didnot seem to me of as much importance as our ownimmediate departure.

Brande met us at his hall door. His house wasa pleasant one, covered with flowering creepingplants, and surrounded by miniature forests. Infront there was a lake four hundred yards inwidth. Close-shaven lawns bordered it. They[30]were artificial products, no doubt, but they wereartificial successes—undulating, earth-scented, freshrolled every morning. Here there was an isolatedshrub, there a thick bank of rhododendrons. Andthe buds, bursting into floral carnival, promisedfine contrasts when their full splendour was come.The lake wavelets tinkled musically on a pebblybeach.

Our host could not entertain us in person. Hewas busy. The plea was evidently sincere, notwithstandingthat the business of a countrygentleman—which he now seemed to be—is somethingless exacting than busy people's leisure.After a short rest, and an admirably-servedlunch, we were dismissed to the woods for ourbetter amusement.

Thereafter followed for me a strangely peaceful,idyllic day—all save its ending. Looking backon it, I know that the sun which set that eveningwent down on the last of my happiness. But itall seems trivial now.

My companions were accomplished botanists,and here, for the first time, I found myself oncommon ground with both. We discussed everyfamiliar wild flower as eagerly as if we had beenprofessed field naturalists. In walking or climbing[31]my assistance was neither requisitioned nor required.I did not offer, therefore, what musthave been unwelcome when it was superfluous.

We rested at last under the shade of a bigbeech, for the afternoon sun was rather oppressive.It was a pleasant spot to while away anhour. A purling brook went babbling by, singingto itself as it journeyed to the sea. Insects dronedabout in busy flight. There was a perfume ofhoneysuckle wafted to us on the summer wind,which stirred the beech-tree and rustled its youngleaves lazily, so that the sunlight peeped throughthe green lattice-work and shone on the faces ofthese two handsome girls, stretched in gracefulpostures on the cool sward below—their whiteteeth sparkling in its brilliance, while their softlaughter made music for me. In the fulness ofmy heart, I said aloud:

CHAPTER IV.
GEORGE DELANY—DECEASED.

"It is a good thing to be alive," Natalie Branderepeated slowly, gazing, as it were, far off throughher half-closed eyelids. Then turning to meand looking at me full, wide-eyed, she asked:"A good thing for how many?"

"Faugh! For few things that are alive. Forhardly anything. You say it is a good thingto be alive. How often have you said that inyour life?"

"All my life through," I answered stoutly.My constitution was a good one, and I had livedhealthily, if hardily. I voiced the superfluousvitality of a well nourished body.

There was a scream in the underwood nearus. It ended in a short, choking squeak. Thegirl paled, but she went on with outward calm.[33]

"That hawk or cat feels as you do. I wonderwhat that young rabbit thinks of life's problem?"

"But we are neither hawks nor cats, nor evenyoung rabbits," I answered warmly. "We cannot bear the burthens of the whole animal world.Our own are sufficient for us."

I had made a false move, and so tried to recovermy lost ground. She would not permit me.The conversation which had run in pleasantchannels for two happy hours was ended.Thenceforth, in spite of my obstructive efforts,subjects were introduced which could not beconversed on but must be discussed. On everyone Miss Brande took the part of the weak againstthe strong, oblivious of every consideration ofpolicy and even ethics, careful only that shechampioned the weak because of their weakness.Miss Metford abetted her in this, and wentfurther in their joint revolt against commonsense. Miss Brande was argumentative, pleading.Miss Metford was defiant. Between the two Ifared ill.

Of course the Woman question was soon introduced,and in this I made the best defence[34]of time-honoured customs of which I was capable.But my outworks fell down as promptly beforethe voices of these young women as did thewalls of Jericho before the blast of a ram's horn.Nothing that I had cherished was left to me.Woman no longer wanted man's protection.("Enslavement" they called it.) Why should she,when in the evolution of society there was notnow, or presently would not be, anything fromwhich to protect her? ("Competing slaveowners"was what they said.) When you wish to beholdprotectors you must postulate dangers. Thefirst are valueless save as a preventive of thesecond. Both evils will be conveniently dispensedwith. All this was new to me, most of mythinking life having been passed in distantlands, where the science of ethics is codified intoa simple statute—the will of the strongest.

When my dialectical humiliation was withinone point of completion, Miss Metford came tomy rescue. For some time she had looked on atmy discomfiture with a good-natured neutrality,and when I was metaphorically in my last ditch,she arose, stretched her shapely figure, flickedsome clinging grass blades from her suit, anddeclared it was time to return. Brande was a[35]man of science, but as such he was still amenableto punctuality in the matter of dinner.

On the way back I was discreetly silent.When we reached the house I went to look forHerbert Brande. He was engaged in his study,and I could not intrude upon him there. To doso would be to infringe the only rigid rule inhis household. Nor had I an opportunity ofspeaking to him alone until after dinner, when Iinduced him to take a turn with me round thelake. I smoked strong cigars, and made one ofthese my excuse.

The sun was setting when we started, and aswe walked slowly the twilight shadows weredeepening fast by the time we reached the furthershore. Brande was in high spirits. Some newscientific experiment, I assumed, had come offsuccessfully. He was beside himself. His conversationwas volcanic. Now it rumbled androared with suppressed fires. Anon, it burst forthin scintillating flashes and shot out streams ofquickening wit. I have been his auditor in thethree great epochs of his life, but I do not thinkthat anything that I have recollected of hisutterances equals the bold impromptus, the masterlyhandling of his favourite subject, the[36]Universe, which fell from him on that evening.I could not answer him. I could not even followhim, much less suppress him. But I had comeforth with a specific object in view, and I wouldnot be gainsaid. And so, as my business hadto be done better that it should be done quickly.Taking advantage of a pause which he made,literally for breath, I commenced abruptly:

He turned on me surprised. Then his lookchanged to one of such complete contempt, andwithal his bearing suggested so plainly that heknew beforehand what I was going to say, thatI blurted out defiantly, and without stopping tochoose my words:

"I think it an infernal shame that you, herbrother, should allow her to masquerade aboutwith this good-natured but eccentric Metford girl—Ishould say Miss Metford."

"My dear Abraham," Brande said quietly, "oris your period so recent as that of Isaac or Jacob?My sister pleases herself in these matters, andhas every right to do so."[37]

"Very well, I am her brother. She has noright to think for herself; no right to live saveby my permission. Then I graciously permit herto think, and I allow her to live."

"You'll be sorry for this nonsense sooner orlater—and don't say I didn't warn you." Theabsolute futility of my last clause struck mepainfully at the moment, but I could not thinkof any way to better it. It was hard to reasonwith such a man, one who denied the fundamentalprinciples of family life. I was thinking overwhat to say next, when Brande stopped and puthis hand, in a kindly way, upon my shoulder.

"My good fellow," he said, "what does itmatter? What do the actions of my sistersignify more than the actions of any otherman's sister? And what about the Society?Have you made up your mind about joining?"

"I have. I made it up twice to-day," I answered."I made it up in the morning that Iwould see yourself and your Society to thedevil before I would join it. Excuse my bluntness;but you are so extremely candid yourselfyou will not mind."[38]

"And I made it up this evening," I said, alittle less aggressively, "that I would join it ifthe devil himself were already in it, as I halfsuspect he is."

"I like that," Brande said gravely. "That isthe spirit I want in the man who joinsme."

"Proximately to complete our investigations—alreadyfar advanced—into the origin of theUniverse."

"How so? I am not morally bound by anoath which I swear without full knowledge ofits consequences and responsibilities."

"Oath! The oath you swear! You swear nooath. Do you fancy you are joining a societyof Rechabites or Carmelites, or mediæval rubbish[39]of that kind. Don't keep so painstakingly behindthe age."

I thought for a moment over what this mysteriousman had said, over the hidden dangersin which his mad chimeras might involve themost innocent accomplice. Then I thought ofthat dark-eyed, sweet-voiced, young girl, asshe lay on the green grass under the beech-treein the wood and out-argued me on everypoint. Very suddenly, and, perhaps, in a mannersomewhat grandiose, I answered him:

"You have every right," Brande said carelessly."Many have done the same beforeyou."

"Can you introduce me to any one who hasdone so?" I asked, with an eagerness that couldnot be dissembled.

"Oh yes, that is simple." He turned over anote-book until he found a blank page. Thenhe drew the pencil from its loop, put the pointto his lips, and paused. He was standing withhis back to the failing light, so I could not[40]see the expression of his mobile face. Whenhe paused, I knew that no ordinary doubt besethim. He stood thus for nearly a minute.While he waited, I watched a pair of swansflit ghost-like over the silken surface of thelake. Between us and a dark bank of woodthe lights of the house flamed red. The melancholyeven-song of a blackbird wailed out froma shrubbery beside us. Then Herbert Brandewrote in his note-book, and tearing out thepage, he handed it to me, saying: "That isthe address of the last man who quitted us."

The light was now so dim I had to holdthe paper close to my eyes in order to readthe lines. They were these—

CHAPTER V.
THE MURDER CLUB.

"Delany was the last man who quitted us—yousee I use your expression again. I like it," Brandesaid quietly, watching me as he spoke.

I stood staring at the slip of paper which Iheld in my hand for some moments before I couldreply. When my voice came back, I askedhoarsely:

"Then your Society, after all your high-flowntalk about it, is only a vulgar murder club,"I said bitterly.[42]

"Wrong in fact, and impertinent in its expression.It is not a murder club, and—well,you are the first to discover its vulgarity."

"I call things by their plain names. Youmay call your Society what you please. As tomy joining it in face of what you have toldme—"

"Which is more than was ever told to anyman before he joined—to any man living ordead. And more, you need not join it yet unlessyou still wish to do so. I presume what Ihave said will prevent you."

"On the contrary, if I had any doubt, or ifthere was any possibility of my wavering beforethis interview, there is none now. I join atonce."

He would have taken my hand, but that Icould not permit. I left him without anotherword, or any form of salute, and returned to thehouse. I did not appear again in the domesticcircle that evening, for I had enough upon mymind without further burdening myself withsocial pretences.

I sat in my room and tried once more toconsider my position. It was this: for the sakeof a girl whom I had only met some score of[43]times; who sometimes acted, talked, dressed aftera fashion suggestive of insanity; who had gloriousdark eyes, a perfect figure, and an exquisitelybeautiful face—but I interrupt myself. For thesake of this girl, and for the manifestly impossiblepurpose of protecting her from herself aswell as others, I had surrendered myself to theprobable vengeance of a band of cut-throatsif I betrayed them, and to the certain vengeanceof the law if I did not. Brande,notwithstanding his constant scepticism, wasscrupulously truthful. His statement of factmust be relied upon. His opinions were anothermatter. As nothing practical resultedfrom my reflections, I came to the conclusionthat I had got into a pretty mess for the sakeof a handsome face. I regretted this result,but was glad of the cause of it. On this Iwent to bed.

Next morning I was early astir, for I mustsee Natalie Brande without delay, and I feltsure she would be no sluggard on that splendidsummer day. I tried the lawn between thehouse and the lake shore. I did not find herthere. I found her friend Miss Metford. Thegirl was sauntering about, swinging a walking-cane[44]carelessly. She was still rationally dressed,but I observed with relief that the rationalpart of her costume was more in the nature ofthe divided skirt than the plain knickerbockersof the previous day. She accosted me cheerfullyby my surname, and not to be outdone by her, Isaid coolly:

"You look it. But that can't be helped.Natalie saw you going out, and sent me to meetyou. I am to look after you for an hour orso. You join the Society this evening, I hear.You must be very pleased—and flattered."

I could not assent to this, and so remainedsilent. The girl chattered on in her own outspokenmanner, which, now that I was growingaccustomed to it, I did not find as unpleasantas at first. One thing was evident to me. Shehad no idea of the villainous nature ofBrande's Society. She could not have spokenso carelessly if she shared my knowledge of it.While she talked to me, I wondered if it was[45]fair to her—a likeable girl, in spite of her undesirableaffectations of advanced opinion, emancipationor whatever she called it—was it fairto allow her to associate with a band of murderers,and not so much as whisper a word of warning?No doubt, I myself was associating with theband; but I was not in ignorance of the responsibilitythereby incurred.

"Miss Metford," I said, without heeding whetherI interrupted her, "are you in the secret of thisSociety?"

I stopped and faced her with so serious anexpression that she listened to me attentively.

"If you will take my earnest advice—and I begyou not to neglect it—you will have nothing todo with it or any one belonging to it."

I disregarded her mischief and continued:"If you can get Miss Brande away from herbrother and his acquaintances," (I had nearlysaid accomplices,) "and keep her away, you wouldbe doing the best and kindest thing you everdid in your life."

Miss Metford was evidently impressed by my[46]seriousness, but, as she herself said very truly,it was unlikely that she would be able to interferein the way I suggested. Besides, my mysteriouswarning was altogether too vague to be of anyuse as a guide for her own action, much lessthat of her friend. I dared not speak plainer.I could only repeat, in the most emphatic words,my anxiety that she would think carefully overwhat I had said. I then pretended to recollectan engagement with Brande, for I was in suchlow spirits I had really little taste for any company.

She was disappointed, and said so in her usualstraightforward way. It was not in the power ofany gloomy prophecy to oppress her long. Theserious look which my words had brought onher face passed quickly, and it was in her naturalmanner that she bade me good-morning, saying:

"It is rather a bore, for I looked forward toa pleasant hour or two taking you about."

I postponed my breakfast for want of appetite,and, as Brande's house was the best exampleof Liberty Hall I had ever met with, I offeredno apology for my absence during the entireday when I rejoined my host and hostess in[47]the evening. The interval I spent in the woods,thinking much and deciding nothing.

After dinner, Brande introduced me to a manwhom he called Edward Grey. Natalie conductedme to the room in which they wereengaged. From the mass of correspondencein which this man Grey was absorbed, and thelitter of papers about him, it was evident thathe must have been in the house long before Imade his acquaintance.

Grey handed me a book, which I found tobe a register of the names of the members ofBrande's Society, and pointed out the place formy signature.

When I had written my name on the list Isaid to Brande: "Now that I have nominatedmyself, I suppose you'll second me?"

"It is not necessary," he answered; "you arealready a member. Your remark to Miss Metfordthis morning made you one of us. You advisedher, you recollect, to beware of us."

"That girl!" I exclaimed, horrified. "Thenshe is one of your spies? Is it possible?"

"No, she is not one of our spies. We havenone, and she knew nothing of the purpose forwhich she was used."[48]

In the passion of the moment I forgot mymanners to my host, and formed the resolutionto denounce the Society to the police the momentI returned to London. Brande was not offendedby my violence. There was not a trace of angerin his voice as he said:

"My sister knows as little as the other. Inturn, I received the information telepathically fromher, without the knowledge of either. I was justtelling Grey of it when you came into the room."

"And," said Grey, "your intention to gostraight from this house to Scotland Yard, thereto denounce us to the police, has been telepathicallyreceived by myself."

Grey went on without noticing my exclamation:"Any overt or covert action on yourpart, toward carrying out your intention, willbe telepathically conveyed to us, and our executive—"He shrugged his shoulders.[49]

"I know," I said, "Woking Cemetery, nearSaint Anne's Chapel. You have ground there."

"Dispense with," Grey repeated sharply, "anymember whose loyalty is questionable. Thisis not our wish; it is our necessity. It is theonly means by which we can secure the absoluteimmunity of the Society pending the achievementof its object. To dispense with any livingman we have only to will that he shall die."

"And now that I am a member, may I askwhat is this object, the secret of which youguard with such fiendish zeal?" I demandedangrily.

"I am already weary of this jargon fromBrande," I interrupted. "What do you mean?"

I could scarcely control my indignation. Thisfooling, as I thought it, struck me as insulting.Neither Brande nor Grey appeared to[50]notice my keen resentment. Grey answered mein a quiet, serious tone.

"We shall attempt it by destroying theearth. We may fail in the complete achievementof our design, but in any case we shallat least be certain of reducing this planet tothe ether of which it is composed."

"Of course, of course," I agreed derisively."You will at least make sure of that. Youhave found out how to do it too, I have nodoubt?"

CHAPTER VI.
A TELEPATHIC TELEGRAM.

I left the room and hurried outside without anypositive plan for my movements. My brain wasin such a whirl I could form no connected train ofthought. These men, whose conversation was ajargon fitting only for lunatics, had proved thatthey could read my mind with the ease of atelegraph operator taking a message off a wire.That they, further, possessed marvellous, if notmiraculous powers, over occult natural forcescould hardly be doubted. The net in which Ihad voluntarily entangled myself was closingaround me. An irresistible impulse to fly—todesert Natalie and save myself—came over me.I put this aside presently. It was both unworthyand unwise. For whither should I fly? Theends of the earth would not be far enough tosave me, the depths of the sea would not be deep[52]enough to hide me from those who killed bywilling that their victim should die.

On the other hand, if my senses had only beenhocussed, and Messrs. Brande and Grey werenothing better than clever tricksters, the parkgate was far enough, and the nearest policemanforce enough, to save me from their vengeance.But the girl—Natalie! She was clairvoyante.They practised upon her. My diagnosis of thestrange seeing-without-sight expression of hereyes was then correct. And it was clear to methat whatsoever or whomsoever Brande and Greybelieved or disbelieved in, they certainly believedin themselves. They might be relied on to sparenothing and no one in their project, howeverridiculous or mad their purpose might be. Whatthen availed my paltry protection when the girlherself was a willing victim, and the men omnipotent?Nevertheless, if I failed eventually toserve her, I could at least do my best.

While I was thus reflecting, the following conversationtook place between Brande and Grey.I found a note of it in a diary which Brandekept desultorily. He wrote this up so irregularly[53]no continuous information can be gleaned from itas to his life. How the diary came into my handswill be seen later. The memorandum is writtenthus:—

Grey—Our new member? Why did you introducehim? You say he cannot help withmoney. It is plain he cannot help with brains.

Brande—He interests Natalie. He is what theuneducated call good-natured. He enjoys doingunselfish things, unaware that it is for the selfishsake of the agreeable sensation thereby secured.Besides, I like him myself. He amuses me. Tomake him a member was the only safe way ofkeeping him so much about us. But Natalie isthe main reason. I am afraid of her wavering inspite of my hypnotic influence. In a girl of herintensely emotional nature the sentiment of hopelesslove will create profound melancholy. Dominatedby that she is safe. It seems cruel at firstsight. It is not really so. It is not cruel toreconcile her to a fate she cannot escape. It ismerciful. For the rest, what does it matter? Itwill be all the same in—

That is the whole of the entry. I did not readthe words until the hand that wrote them wasdust.

Natalie professed some disappointment when Iannounced my immediate return to town. Iwas obliged to manufacture an excuse for sucha hasty departure, and so fell back on an oldengagement which I had truly overlooked, andwhich really called me away. But it wouldhave called long enough without an answer ifit had not been for Brande himself, his friendGrey, and their insanities. My mind was fixedon one salient issue: how to get Natalie Brandeout of her brother's evil influence. This wouldbe better compassed when I myself was outsidethe scope of his extraordinary influence. And soI went without delay.

For some time after my return to London, Iwent about visiting old haunts and friends. Isoon tired of this. The haunts had lost theirinterest. The friends were changed, or I waschanged. I could not resume the friendshipswhich had been interrupted. The chain of connectionhad been broken and the links wouldnot weld easily. So, after some futile efforts toreturn to the circle I had long deserted, I desisted[55]and accepted my exclusion with serenity. I amnot sure that I desired the old relationships re-established.And as my long absence had preventedany fresh shoots of friendship being grafted,I found myself alone in London. I need say nomore.

One evening I was walking through the streetsin a despondent mood, as had become my habit.By chance I read the name of a street into whichI had turned to avoid a more crowded thoroughfare.It was that in which Miss Metford lived. Iknew that she had returned to town, for shehad briefly acquainted me with the fact on a postcardwritten some days previously.

Here was a chance of distraction. This girl'sspontaneous gaiety, which I found at first displeasing,was what I wanted to help me to shakeoff the gloomy incubus of thought oppressing me.It was hardly within the proprieties to call uponher at such an hour, but it could not matter verymuch, when the girl's own ideas were so unconventional.She had independent means, and livedapart from her family in order to be rid ofdomestic limitations. She had told me that shecarried a latch-key—indeed she had shown it tome with a flourish of triumph—and that she[56]delighted in free manners. Free manners, shewas careful to add, did not mean bad manners.To my mind the terms were synonymous. Whenopposite her number I decided to call, and, havingknocked at the door, was told that Miss Metfordwas at home.

"Hallo, Marcel! Glad to see you," she calledout, somewhat stridently for my taste. Herdress was rather mannish, as usual. In lieu ofher out-door tunic she wore a smoking-jacket.When I entered she was sitting in an arm-chair,with her feet on a music-stool. She arose sohastily that the music-stool was overturned, andallowed to lie where it fell.

"I think I have seen many ghosts of late," I said,"and they have not been good company. I waspassing your door, and I have come in for comfort."

She crossed the room and poured out somewhisky from a decanter which was standing on aside-board. Then she opened a bottle of soda-waterwith a facility which suggested practice. Iwas relieved to think that it was not Natalie whowas my hostess. Handing me the glass, she saidperemptorily:[57]

"Drink that. That is right. Give me the glass.Now smoke. Do I allow smoking here? Pah!I smoke here myself."

I lit a cigar and sat down beside her. Theclouds began to lift from my brain and float offin the blue smoke wreaths. We talked on ordinarytopics without my once noticing how deftly theyhad been introduced by Miss Metford. I neverthought of the flight of time until a chime froma tiny clock on the mantelpiece—an exquisitesample of the tasteful furniture of the whole room—warnedme that my visit had lasted two hours.I arose reluctantly.

She rallied me on my ingratitude. I had comein a sorry plight. I was now restored. She wasno longer useful, therefore I left her. And so on,till I said with a solemnity no doubt lugubrious:

"I am most grateful, Miss Metford. I cannottell you how grateful I am. You would notunderstand—"

"Oh, please leave my poor understanding alone,and tell me what has happened to you. I shouldlike to hear it. And what is more, I like you."She said this so carelessly, I did not feel embarrassed."Now, then, the whole story, please."Saying which, she sat down again.[58]

"Do you really know nothing more of Brande'sSociety than you admitted when I last spoke toyou about it?" I asked, without taking the chairshe pushed over to me.

"This is all I know," she answered, in therhyming voice of a young pupil declaiming a pieceof a little understood and less cared for recitation."The society has very interesting evenings.Brande shows one beautiful experiments, which,I daresay, would be amazingly instructive if onewere inclined that way, which I am not. Themen are mostly long-haired creatures with spectacles.Some of them are rather good-looking.All are wholly mad. And my friend—I mean theonly girl I could ever stand as a friend—NatalieBrande, is crazy about them."

The clock now struck the hour of nine, thewarning chime for which had startled me.

I thought for a moment. Unless my own senseshad deceived me that evening in Brande's house,I ran a great risk of sharing George Delany's fateif I remained where I was much longer. And[59]suppose I told her all I knew, would not thatbring the same danger upon her too? So I had toanswer:

"Then you must know more than any mereoutsider like myself. I suppose it would not befair to ask you. Anyhow, you will come backand see me soon. By the way, what is youraddress?"

As I drove to my hotel, I felt that the mesmerictrick, or whatever artifice had been practised uponme by Brande and Grey, had now assumed itstrue proportion. I laughed at my fears, and wasthankful that I had not described them to thestrong-minded young woman to whose kindlysociety I owed so much. What an idiot she wouldhave thought me!

I took the telegram, and went upstairs with itunopened in my hand. A strange fear overcameme. I dared not open the envelope. I knew[60]beforehand who the sender was, and what thedrift of the message would be. I was right. Itwas from Brande.

I sat down stupefied. When my senses returned,I looked at the table where I had thrown the telegram.It was not there, nor in the room. I rangfor the man who had given it to me, and he cameimmediately.

"I beg your pardon, sir," the man interrupted,"I did not give you any telegram this evening."

"Yes, sir. I said 'good-night,' but you took nonotice. Excuse me, sir, I thought you lookedstrange."

"Oh, I was thinking of something else. And Iremember now, it was Johnson who gave me thetelegram."

So Brande's telepathic power was objective aswell as subjective. My own brain, unaccustomedto be impressed by another mind "otherwise thanthrough the recognised channels of sense," hadsupplied the likeliest authority for its message.The message was duly delivered, but the telegramwas a delusion.

CHAPTER VII.
GUILTY!

As to protecting Natalie Brande from her brotherand the fanatics with whom he associated, itwas now plain that I was powerless. And whatguarantee had I that she herself was unawareof his nefarious purpose; that she did notsympathise with it? This last thought flashedupon me one day, and the sting of pain thatfollowed it was so intolerable, I determined instantlyto prove its falsity or truth.

I telegraphed to Brande that I was runningdown to spend a day or two with him, andfollowed my message without waiting for a reply.I have still a very distinct recollection of thatjourney, notwithstanding much that might wellhave blotted it from my memory. Every milesped over seemed to mark one more barrierpassed on my way to some strange fate; everymoment which brought me nearer this incomprehensible[63]girl with her magical eyes was anepoch of impossibility against my ever voluntarilyturning back. And now that it is all over, Iam glad that I went on steadfastly to theend.

Brande received me with the easy affabilityof a man to whom good breeding had ceased tobe a habit, and had become an instinct. Onlyonce did anything pass between us bearing onthe extraordinary relationship which he hadestablished with me—the relation of victor andvictim, I considered it. We had been left togetherfor a few moments, and I said as soon asthe others were out of hearing distance:

"I know you did," he replied. That was all.There was an awkward pause. It must be brokensomehow. Any way out of the difficulty wasbetter than to continue in it.

"Have you seen this?" I asked, handing Brandea copy of a novel which I had picked up at arailway bookstall. When I say that it was newand popular, it will be understood that it wasindecent.

He looked at the title, and said indifferently:"Yes, I have seen it, and in order to appreciate[64]this class of fiction fairly, I have even tried toread it. Why do you ask?"

"Because I thought it would be in your line.It is very advanced." I said this to gain time.

"Advanced—advanced? I am afraid I do notcomprehend. What do you mean by 'advanced'?And how could it be in my line. I presume youmean by that, on my plane of thought?"

"If I used the word at all, I should meaneducated, evolved. Is this evolved? Is it eveneducated? It is not always grammatical. It hasno style. In motive, it ante-dates Boccaccio."

"By no means. I neither approve nor disapprove.It only represents a phase of humanity—thedeliberate purpose of securing moneyor notoriety to the individual, regardless of thewelfare of the community. There is nothing toadmire in that. It would be invidious to blameit when the whole social scheme is equally wrongand contemptible. By the way, what interest[65]do you think the wares of any literary pander,of either sex, could possess for me, a student—evenif a mistaken one—of science?"

"I did not think the book would possess theslightest interest for you, and I suppose you arealready aware of that?"

"Ah no! My telepathic power is reservedfor more serious purposes. Its exercise costs metoo much to expend it on trifles. In consequenceI do not know why you mentioned the book."

To this I answered candidly, "I mentioned itin order to get myself out of a conversationaldifficulty—without much success."

Natalie was reserved with me at first. Shedevoted herself unnecessarily to a boy namedHalley who was staying with them. Grey hadgone to London. His place was taken by a Mr.Rockingham, whom I did not like. There wassomething sinister in his expression, and he rarelyspoke save to say something cynical, and in consequencedisagreeable. He had "seen life," that is,everything deleterious to and destructive of it.His connection with Brande was clearly a rebound,the rebound of disgust. There was nothing creditableto him in that. My first impression of himwas thus unfavourable. My last recollection of[66]him is a fitting item in the nightmare whichcontains it.

The youth Halley would have interested meunder ordinary circumstances. His face was ashandsome and refined as that of a pretty girl.His figure, too, was slight and his voice effeminate.But there my own advantage, as I deemed it,over him ceased. Intellectually, he was a pupilof Brande's who did his master credit. Havingmade this discovery I did not pursue it. My mindwas fixed too fast upon a definite issue to be morethan temporarily interested in the epigrams ofa peachy-cheeked man of science.

The afternoon was well advanced before I hadan opportunity of speaking to Natalie. Whenit came, I did not stop to puzzle over a choiceof phrases.

"I wish to speak to you alone on a subject ofextreme importance to me," I said hurriedly."Will you come with me to the sea-shore? Yourtime, I know, is fully occupied. I would notask this if my happiness did not dependupon it."

The philosopher looked on me with grave, kindeyes. But the woman's heart within her sentthe red blood flaming to her cheeks. It was then[67]given to me to fathom the lowest depth of boorishstupidity I had ever sounded.

The blush on her cheek burnt deeper as shetossed her head proudly back, and said straightout, without any show of fence or shadow ofconcealment:

"It was my mistake. I am glad to know thatI did you an injustice. You are my friend, areyou not?"

"Then what you ask is granted. Come." Sheput her hand boldly into mine. I grasped theslender fingers, saying:

We started for the sea. Not a word was spokenon the way. Nor did our eyes meet. We werein a strange position. It was this: the man whohad vowed he was the woman's friend—who didnot intend to shirk the proof of his promise, andnever did gainsay it—meant to ask the woman,[68]before the day was over, to clear herself ofknowingly associating with a gang of scientificmurderers. The woman had vaguely divined hispurpose, and could not clear herself.

When we arrived at the shore we occupiedourselves inconsequently. We hunted little fishesuntil Natalie's dainty boots were dripping. Weexamined quaint denizens of the shallow wateruntil her gloves were spoilt. We sprang fromrock to rock and evaded the onrush of the foamingwaves. We made aqueducts for inter-communicationbetween deep pools. We basked in thesunshine, and listened to the deep moan of thesounding sea, and the solemn murmur of theshells. We drank in the deep breath of theocean, and for a brief space we were like happychildren.

The end came soon to this ephemeral happiness.It was only one of those bright coins snatchedfrom the niggard hand of Time which mustalways be paid back with usurious charges. Wepaid with cruel interest.

Standing on a flat rock side by side, I nervedmyself to ask this girl the same question I hadasked her friend, Edith Metford, how much sheknew of the extraordinary and preposterous[69]Society—as I still tried to consider it—whichHerbert Brande had founded. She looked sofrank, so refined, so kind, I hardly dared to putmy brutal question to an innocent girl, whom Ihad seen wince at the suffering of a maimedbird, and pale to the lips at the death-cry of arabbit. This time there was no possibility ofuntoward consequence in the question save tomyself—for surely the girl was safe from her ownbrother. And I myself preferred to risk the consequencesrather than endure longer the thoughtthat she belonged voluntarily to a vile murderclub. Yet the question would not come. Asimple thing brought it out. Natalie, after lookingseaward silently for some minutes, saidsimply:

"Until you answer this question. How muchdo you know about your brother's Society, whichI have joined to my own intense regret?"

"You would not be sorry," said I, "if you knewas much about it as I do," forgetting that I hadstill no answer to my question, and that theextent of her knowledge was unknown to me.[70]

"I believe I do know as much as you." Therewas a tremor in her voice and an anxious pleadinglook in her eyes. This look maddened me.Why should she plead to me unless she was guilty?I stamped my foot upon the rock without noticingthat in so doing I kicked our whole collectionof shells into the water.

There was something more to ask, but I stoodsilent and sullen. The woods above the beachwere choral with bird-voices. They were hatefulto me. The sea song of the tumbling waves washideous. I cursed the yellow sunset light glaringon their snowy crests. A tiny hand was laidupon my arm. I writhed under its deadly ifdelicious touch. But I could not put it away, norkeep from turning to the sweet face beside me,to mark once more its mute appeal—now morethan mere appeal; it was supplication that was inher eyes. Her red lips were parted as thoughthey voiced an unspoken prayer. At last a prayerdid pass from them to me.

"Do not judge me until you know me better.Do not hate me without cause. I am not wicked,as you think. I—I—I am trying to do what Ithink is right. At least, I am not selfish or cruel.Trust me yet a little while."[71]

I looked at her one moment, and then with asob I clasped her in my arms, and cried aloud:

"My God! to name murder and that angel facein one breath! Child, you have been befooled.You know nothing."

For a second she lingered in my embrace. Thenshe gently put away my arms, and looking up atme, said fearlessly but sorrowfully:

CHAPTER VIII.
THE WOKING MYSTERY.

She knew all. Then she was a murderess—or insympathy with murderers. My arms fell fromher. I drew back shuddering. I dared not lookin her lying eyes, which cried pity when her baseheart knew no mercy. Surely now I had solvedthe maddening puzzle which the character of thisgirl had, so far, presented to me. Yet the truesolution was as far from me as ever. Indeed, Icould not well have been further from it than atthat moment.

As we walked back, Natalie made two or threeunsuccessful attempts to lure me out of the silencewhich was certainly more eloquent on my partthan any words I could have used. Once shecommenced:

On that she put her handkerchief to her eyes,and a half-suppressed sob shook her slight figure.Her grief distracted me. But what could I say toassuage it?

"I?" The horror in my own voice surprisedmyself, and assuredly did not pass without hernotice.

"Very well; good-bye. We are not exactlyslaves of convention here, but you are too faradvanced in that direction even for me. This isyour second startling departure from us. I trustyou will spare me the humiliation entailed by thecondescension of your further acquaintance."

"Give me an hour!" I exclaimed aghast. "Youdo not make allowance for the enigma in whicheverything is wrapped up. I said I was yourfriend when I thought you of good report. Giveme an hour—only an hour—to say whether I willstand by my promise, now that you yourself haveclaimed that your report is not good but evil. Forthat is really what you have protested. Do I ask[74]too much? or is your generosity more limited eventhan my own?"

"Ah, no! I would not have you think that.Take an hour, or a year—an hour only if youcare for my happiness."

So I left her. I could not go indoors. A roofwould smother me. Give me the open lawns, theleafy woods, the breath of the summer wind.Away, then, to the silence of the coming night.For an hour leave me to my thoughts. Her unworthinesswas now more than suspected. It wasadmitted. My misery was complete. But I wouldnot part with her; I could not. Innocent or guilty,she was mine. I must suffer with her or for her.The resolution by which I have abided was formedas I wandered lonely through the woods.

When I reached my room that night I found anote from Brande. To receive a letter from aman in whose house I was a guest did not surpriseme. I was past that stage. There was nothingmysterious in the letter, save its conclusion. Itwas simply an invitation to a public meeting ofthe Society, which was to be held on that dayweek in the hall in Hanover Square, and the[75]special feature in the letter—seeing that it didnot vanish like the telegram, but remained anordinary sheet of paper—lay in its concludingsentence. This urged me to allow nothing toprevent my attendance. "You will perhaps understandthereafter that we are neither politicalplotters nor lunatics, as you have thought."

Thought! The man's mysterious power wasbecoming wearisome. It was too much for me.I wished that I had never seen his face.

As I lay sleepless in my bed, I recommencedthat interminable introspection which, heretofore,had been so barren of result. It was easy toswear to myself that I would stand by NatalieBrande, that I would never desert her. But howshould my action be directed in order that by itsconduct I might prevail upon the girl herself tosurrender her evil associates? I knew that sheregarded me with affection. And I knew also thatshe would not leave her brother for my sake. Didshe sympathise with his nefarious schemes, orwas she decoyed into them like myself?

I sprang from the bed, beside myself withdelight. Now I had not merely a loophole ofescape from all these miseries; I had a royal[76]highway. Fool, idiot, blind mole that I was,not to perceive sooner that easy solution of theproblem! No wonder that she was wounded bymy unworthy doubts. And she had tried to explain,but I would not listen! I threw myselfback and commenced to weave all manner of pleasantfancies round the salvation of this girl fromher brother's baneful influence, and the annihilationof his Society, despite its occult powers, bymine own valour. The reaction was too great.Instead of constructing marvellous counterplots, Ifell sound asleep.

Next day I found Natalie in a pleasant morning-roomto which I was directed. She wore hermost extreme—and, in consequence, most exasperating—rationalcostume. When I entered theroom she pushed a chair towards me, in a waythat suggested Miss Metford's worst manner, andlit a cigarette, for the express purpose, I felt, ofannoying me.

"Yes, to apologise. I made a hideous mistake.I have suffered for it as much as youcould wish."[77]

"Wish you to suffer!" She flung away hercigarette. Her dark eyes opened wide in unassumedsurprise. And that curious light ofpity, which I had so often wondered at, came intothem. "I am very sorry if you have suffered,"she said, with convincing earnestness.

"How could I doubt you? Senseless fool thatI was to suppose for one moment that you approvedof what you could not choose but know—"

"I am afraid you are still in error. Whatopinion have you formed which alters your estimateof me?"

"The only opinion possible: that you haveunwillingly learned the secret of your brother'sSociety; but, like myself—you see no way to—to—"

"That is not my reason." She arose and stoodfacing me. "I do not like to lose your esteem.You know already that I will not lie to retain it.I approve of the Society's purpose."[78]

"They are inevitable. Therefore I approvealso of its actions. I shall not ask you to remainnow, for I see that you are again horrified; as isnatural, considering your knowledge—or, pardonme for saying so, your want of knowledge. Ishall be glad to see you after the lecture towhich you are invited. You will know a littlemore then; not all, perhaps, but enough toshake your time-dishonoured theories of life—anddeath."

I bowed, and left the room without a word.It was true, then, that she was mad like theothers, or worse than mad—a thousand timesworse! I said farewell to Brande, as his guest,for the last time. Thenceforward I would meethim as his enemy—his secret enemy as far as Icould preserve my secrecy with such a man; hisopen enemy when the proper time should come.

In the railway carriage I turned over someletters and papers which I found in my pockets,not with deliberate intention, but to while awaythe time. One scrap startled me. It was thesheet on which Brande had written the Wokingaddress, and on reading it over once more, athought occurred to me which I acted on as soon[79]as possible. I could go to Woking and find outsomething about the man Delany. So long asmy inquiries were kept within the limits ofthe strictest discretion, neither Brande norany of his executive could blame me for seekingconvincing evidence of the secret powerthey claimed.

On my arrival in London, I drove immediatelyto the London Necropolis Company's station andcaught the funeral train which runs to Brookwoodcemetery. With Saint Anne's Chapel asmy base, I made short excursions hither andthither, and stood before a tombstone erectedto the memory of George Delany, late of theCriminal Investigation Department, ScotlandYard. This was a clue which I could follow,so I hurried back to town and called on thesuperintendent of the department.

Yes, I was told, Delany had belonged to thedepartment. He had been a very successfulofficer in ferreting out foreign Anarchists andevil-doers. His last movement was to join aSociety of harmless cranks who met in HanoverSquare. No importance was attached to this inthe department. It could not have been done inthe way of business, although Delany pretended[80]that it was. He had dropped dead in the streetas he was leaving his cab to enter the office withinformation which must have appeared to himimportant—to judge from the cabman's evidenceas to his intense excitement and repeated directionsfor faster driving. There was an inquestand a post-mortem, but "death from naturalcauses" was the verdict. That was all. It wasenough for me.

I had now sufficient evidence, and was finallyconvinced that the Society was as dangerous asit was demented.

CHAPTER IX.
CUI BONO?

When I arrived at the Society's rooms on the eveningfor which I had an invitation, I found thempleasantly lighted. The various scientific diagramsand instruments had been removed, and comfortablearm-chairs were arranged so that a freepassage was available, not merely to each row, butto each chair. The place was full when I entered,and soon afterwards the door was closed and locked.Natalie Brande and Edith Metford were seated besideeach other. An empty chair was on MissMetford's right. She saw me standing at the doorand nodded toward the empty seat which she hadreserved for me. When I reached it she made amovement as if to forestall me and leave me themiddle chair. I deprecated this by a look whichwas intentionally so severe that she described itlater as a malignant scowl.

I could not at the moment seat myself voluntarily[82]beside Natalie Brande with the exact andfinal knowledge which I had learnt at ScotlandYard only one week old. I could not do it justthen, although I did not mean to draw back fromwhat I had undertaken—to stand by her, innocentor guilty. But I must have time to become accustomedto the sensation which followed thisknowledge. Miss Metford's fugitive attempts atconversation pending the commencement of thelecture were disagreeable to me.

There was a little stir on the platform. Thechairman, in a few words, announced HerbertBrande. "This is the first public lecture," he said,"which has been given since the formation of theSociety, and in consequence of the fact that anumber of people not scientifically educated arepresent, the lecturer will avoid the more esotericphases of his subject, which would otherwise presentthemselves in his treatment of it, and confinehimself to the commonplaces of scientific insight.The title of the lecture is identical with that of ourSociety—Cui Bono?"

Brande came forward unostentatiously andplaced a roll of paper on the reading-desk. I havecopied the extracts which follow from this manuscript.The whole essay, indeed, remains with me[83]intact, but it is too long—and it would be immaterial—toreproduce it all in this narrative. Icannot hope either to reproduce the weird impressivenessof the lecturer's personality, his hold overhis audience, or my own emotions in listening tothis man—whom I had proved, not only from hisown confession, but by the strongest collateralevidence, to be a callous and relentless murderer—tohear him glide with sonorous voice and gracefulgesture from point to point in his logical andterrible indictment of suffering!—the futility of it,both in itself and that by which it was administered!No one could know Brande withoutfinding interest, if not pleasure, in his many chanceexpressions full of curious and mysterious thought.I had often listened to his extemporaneous brainpictures, as the reader knows, but I had neverbefore heard him deliberately formulate a planned-outsystem of thought. And such a system! Thisis the gospel according to Brande.

"In the verbiage of primitive optimism a misleadinglimitation is placed on the significance ofthe word Nature and its inflections. And the misconceptionof the meaning of an important word isas certain to lead to an inaccurate concept as is themisstatement of a premise to precede a false conclusion.[84]For instance, in the aphorism, variouslyrendered, 'what is natural is right,' there is anexcellent illustration of the misapplication of theword 'natural.' If the saying means that what isnatural is just and wise, it might as well run'what is natural is wrong,' injustice and unwisdombeing as natural,i.e., a part of Nature, as justiceand wisdom. Morbidity and immorality are asnatural as health and purity. Not more so, butnot less so. That 'Nature is made better by nomean but Nature makes that mean,' is true enough.It is inevitably true. The question remains, inmaking that mean, has she really made anythingthat tends toward the final achievement ofuniversal happiness? I say she has not.

"The misuse of a word, it may be argued, couldnot prove a serious obstacle to the growth ofknowledge, and might be even interesting to thestudent of etymology. But behind the misuse ofthe word 'natural' there is a serious confusion ofthought which must be clarified before the mass ofhuman intelligence can arrive at a just appreciationof the verities which surround human existence,and explain it. To this end it is necessaryto get rid of the archaic idea of Nature as apaternal, providential, and beneficent protector, a[85]successor to the 'special providence,' and to knowthe true Nature, bond-slave as she is of her owneternal persistence of force; that sole primaryprinciple of which all other principles are onlycorrelatives; of which the existence of matter isbut a cognisable evidence.

"The optimist notion, therefore, that Nature is anall-wise designer, in whose work order, system,wisdom, and beauty are prominent, does not farewell when placed under the microscope of scientificresearch.

"There is no order in Nature. Her armies arebut seething mobs of rioters, destroying everythingthey can lay hands on.

"She has no system, unless it be areductio adabsurdum, which only blunders on the right wayafter fruitlessly trying every other conceivablepath. She is not wise. She never fills a pail butshe spills a hogshead. All her works are notbeautiful. She never makes a masterpiece but shesmashes a million 'wasters' without a care. Thetheory of evolution—her gospel—reeks withruffianism, nature-patented and promoted. Thewhole scheme of the universe, all material existence[86]as it is popularly known, is founded upon andbegotten of a system of everlasting suffering ashideous as the fantastic nightmares of religiousmaniacs. The Spanish Inquisitors have been regardedas the most unnatural monsters who everdisgraced the history of mankind. Yet the atrocitiesof the Inquisitors, like the battlefields ofNapoleon and other heroes, were not only natural,but they have their prototypes in every cubicinch of stagnant water, or ounce of diseased tissue.And stagnant water is as natural as sterilisedwater; and diseased tissue is as natural as healthytissue. Wholesale murder is Nature's first law.She creates only to kill, and applies the rule asremorselessly to the units in a star-drift as to thetadpoles in a horse-pond.

"It seems a far cry from a star-drift to a horse-pond.It is so in distance and magnitude. It isnot in the matter of constituents. In ultimatecomposition they are identical. The great nebulain Andromeda is an aggregation of atoms, and sois the river Thames. The only difference betweenthem is the difference in the arrangement andincidence of these atoms and in the molecularmotion of which they are the first but not the finalcause. In a pint of Thames water, we know that[87]there is bound up a latent force beside whichsteam and electricity are powerless in comparison.To release that force it is only necessary to applythe sympathetic key; just as the heated point ofa needle will explode a mine of gunpowder and laya city in ashes. That force is asleep. The atomswhich could give it reality are at rest, or, at least,in a condition ofquasi-rest. But in the stupendousmass of incandescent gas which constitutes thenebula of Andromeda, every atom is madly seekingrest and finding none; whirling in raging haste,battling with every other atom in its field ofmotion, impinging upon others and influencingthem, being impinged upon and influenced bythem. That awful cauldron exemplifies admirablythe method of progress stimulated by suffering. Itis the embryo of a new Sun and his planets.After many million years of molecular agony, whenhis season of fission had come, he will rend hugefragments from his mass and hurl them helplessinto space, there to grow into his satellites. Intheir turn they may reproduce themselves in likemanner before their true planetary life begins, inwhich they shall revolve around their parent assolid spheres. Follow them further and learn howbeneficent Nature deals with them.[88]

"After the lapse of time-periods which manmay calculate in figures, but of which his finitemind cannot form even a true symbolic conception,the outer skin of the planet cools—rests.Internal troubles prevail for longer periods still;and these, in their unsupportable agony, bendand burst the solid strata overlying; vomit firethrough their self-made blow-holes, rear mountainsfrom the depths of the sea, then dash themin pieces.

"The globe still cools. Life appears upon it.Then begins anew the old strife, but under conditionsfar more dreadful, for though it be foundedon atomic consciousness, the central consciousnessof the heterogeneous aggregation of atoms becomesimmeasurably more sentient and susceptible withevery step it takes from homogenesis. Thisinternecine war must continue while any creaturegreat or small shall remain alive upon the worldthat bore it.

"By slow degrees the mighty milestones in theprotoplasmic march are passed. Plants and animalsare now busy, murdering and devouringeach other—the strong everywhere destroyingthe weak. New types appear. Old types disappear.[89]Types possessing the greatest capacityfor murder progress most rapidly, and thosewith the least recede and determine. The neolithicman succeeds the palæolithic man, andsharpens the stone axe. Then to increase theirpower for destruction, men find it better to huntin packs. Communities appear. Soon each communitydiscovers that its own advantage isfurthered by confining its killing, in the main,to the members of neighbouring communities.Nations early make the same discovery. And atlast, as with ourselves, there is established a racewith conscience enough to know that it is vile,and intelligence enough to know that it is insignificant.[1]But what profits this? In thefulness of its time the race shall die. Man willgo down into the pit, and all his thoughts willperish. The uneasy consciousness which, inthis obscure corner, has for a brief space brokenthe silence of the Universe, will be at rest. Matterwill know itself no longer. Life and death andlove, stronger than death, will be as though theynever had been. Nor will anything thatis be[90]better or be worse for all that the labour, genius,devotion, and suffering of man have striventhrough countless generations to effect.

"The roaring loom of Time weaves on. Theglobe cools out. Life mercifully ceases from uponits surface. The atmosphere and water disappear.It rests. It is dead.

"But for its vicarious service in influencingmore youthful planets within its reach, that deadworld might as well be loosed at once from itsgravitation cable and be turned adrift into space.Its time has not yet come. It will not comeuntil the great central sun of the system to whichit belongs has passed laboriously through allhis stages of stellar life and died out also. Thenwhen that dead sun, according to the impacttheory, blunders across the path of another sun,dead and blind like himself, its time will come.The result of that impact will be a new starnebula, with all its weary history before it; ahistory of suffering, in which a million yearswill not be long enough to write a single page.

"Here we have a scientific parallel to the hellof superstition which may account for the instinctiveorigin of the smoking flax and thefire which shall never be quenched. We know[91]that the atoms of which the human body is builtup are atoms of matter. It follows that everyatom in every living body will be present insome form at that final impact in which the solarsystem will be ended in a blazing whirlwind whichwill melt the earth with its fervent heat. Thereis not a molecule or cell in any creature alive thisday which will not in its ultimate constituentsendure the long agony, lasting countless æons ofcenturies, wherein the solid mass of this greatglobe will be represented by a rush of incandescentgas, stupendous in itself, but trivial in comparisonwith the hurricane of flame in which itwill be swallowed up and lost.

"And when from that hell a new star emerges,and new planets in their season are born of him,and he and they repeat, as they must repeat, theceaseless, changeless, remorseless story of theuniverse, every atom in this earth will take itsplace, and fill again functions identical with thosewhich it, or its fellow, fills now. Life willreappear, develop, determine, to be renewed againas before. And so on for ever.

"Nature has known no rest. From the beginning—whichnever was—she has been buildingup only to tear down again. She has been fabricating[92]pretty toys and trinkets, that cost her manya thousand years to forge, only to break them inpieces for her sport. With infinite painstakingshe has manufactured man only to torture himwith mean miseries in the embryonic stages of hisrace, and in his higher development to maddenhim with intellectual puzzles. Thus it will beunto the end—which never shall be. For there isneither beginning nor end to her unvarying cycles.Whether the secular optimist be successful or unsuccessfulin realising his paltry span of terrestrialparadise, whether the pæans he sings about it areprophetic dithyrambs or misleading myths, noChristian man need fear for his own immortality.That is well assured. In some form he will surelybe raised from the dead. In some shape he willlive again. But,Cui bono?"

CHAPTER X.
FORCE—A REMEDY.

"Get me out of this, I am stifled—ill," MissMetford said, in a low voice to me.

As we were hurrying from the room, Brandeand his sister, who had joined him, met us.The fire had died out of his eyes. His voicehad returned to its ordinary key. His demeanourwas imperturbable, sphinx-like. I murmured somewords about the eloquence of the lecture, butinterrupted myself when I observed his completeindifference to my remarks, and said,

"Certainly not," he answered calmly. "Youforget that there is nothing deserving of eitherpraise or blame."

I knew I could not argue with him, so wepassed on. Outside, I offered to find a cab forMiss Metford, and to my surprise she allowed[94]me to do so. Her self-assertive manner wasvisibly modified. She made no pretence of resentingthis slight attention, as was usual withher in similar cases. Indeed, she asked me toaccompany her as far as our ways lay together.But I felt that my society at the time couldhardly prove enlivening. I excused myself bysaying candidly that I wished to be alone.

My own company soon became unendurable.In despair I turned into a music hall. Thecontrast between my mental excitement and theinanities of the stage was too acute, so thisresource speedily failed me. Then I betookmyself to the streets again. Here I remembereda letter Brande had put into my handas I left the hall. It was short, and the tonewas even more peremptory than his usualarrogance. It directed me to meet the membersof the Society at Charing Cross station at twoo'clock on the following day. No informationwas given, save that we were all going on along journey; that I must set my affairs insuch order that my absence would not causeany trouble, and the letter ended, "Our experimentsare now complete. Our plans arematured. Do not fail to attend."[95]

"Fail to attend!" I muttered. "If I amnot the most abject coward on the earth Iwill attend—with every available policeman inLondon." The pent-up wrath and impotenceof many days found voice at last. "Yes,Brande," I shouted aloud, "I will attend, andyou shall be sorry for having invited me."

"You here!" I exclaimed, in great surprise,for it was fully an hour since I left the hall,and my movements had been at haphazardsince then.

"Yes, I have followed you for your ownsake. Are you really going to draw back now?"

"You will not go on alone. You will remain,and your friends shall go on without you—goto prison without you, I mean."

"Poor boy," she said softly, to herself. "Iwonder if I would have thought as I thinknow if I had known him sooner? I supposeI should have been as other women, and theirfools' paradise would have been mine—for alittle while."[96]

The absolute hopelessness in her voice piercedmy heart. I pleaded passionately with her togive up her brother and all the maniacs whofollowed him. For the time I forgot utterlythat the girl, by her own confession, wasalready with them in sympathy as well as indeed.

She said to me: "I cannot hold back now.And you? You know you are powerless tointerfere. If you will not come with me, Imust go alone. But you may remain. I haveprevailed on Herbert and Grey to permit that."

"It is not really necessary. In the end it willmake no difference. And remember, you stillthink me guilty."

Now this seemed to me a very ordinary speech,for who would have held back, thinking her innocent?But Natalie stopped suddenly, and, lookingme in the face, said, almost with a sob:

"Arthur, I sometimes wish I had known yousooner. I might have been different." She wassilent for a moment. Then she said piteously tome: "You will not fail me to-morrow?"

She pressed my hand gratefully, and left mewithout any explanation as to her movements inthe meantime.

I hurried to my hotel to set my affairs in orderbefore joining Brande's expedition. The time wasshort for this. Fortunately there was not muchto do. By midnight I had my arrangementsnearly complete. At the time, the greater part ofmy money was lying at call in a London bank.This I determined to draw in gold the next day.I also had at my banker's some scrip, and I knewI could raise money on that. My personal effectsand the mementos of my travels, which lay aboutmy rooms in great confusion, must remain wherethey were. As to the few friends who still remainedto me, I did not write to them. I couldnot well describe a project of which I knewnothing, save that it was being carried outby dangerous lunatics, or, at least, by men whowere dangerous, whether their madness was realor assumed. Nor could I think of any reasonableexcuse for leaving England after so long anabsence without a personal visit to them. It wasbest, then, to disappear without a word. Havingfinished my dispositions, I changed my coat for adressing-gown and sat down by the window, which[98]I threw open, for the summer night was warm. Isat long, and did not leave my chair until themorning sun was shining on my face.

When I got to Charing Cross next day, a groupof fifty or sixty people were standing apart fromthe general crowd and conversing with animation.Almost the whole strength of the Society wasassembled to see a few of us off, I thought. Infact, they were all going. About a dozen womenwere in the party, and they were dressed in themost extravagant rational costumes. Edith Metfordwas amongst them. I drew her aside, andapologised for not having called to wish her farewell;but she stopped me.

This was more than I could tolerate. She wasfar too good a girl to be allowed to walk blindfoldinto the pit I had digged for myself with fullknowledge. I said imperatively:

"Miss Metford, you shall not go. I warned youmore than once—and warned you, I firmly believe,at the risk of my life—against these people. Youhave disregarded the advice which it may yetcost me dear to have given you."

"To tell you the truth," she said candidly, "I[99]would not go an inch if it were not for yourself.I can't trust you with them. You'd get into mischief.I don't mean with Natalie Brande, but theothers; I don't like them. So I am coming tolook after you."

This she said seriously, and without anythingof the spirit of bravado which was one of herfaults. That ended our dispute. We exchanged ameaning look as our party took their seats. Therewas now, at any rate, one human being in theSociety to whom I could speak my mind.

We travelled by special train. Our ultimatedestination was a fishing village on the southerncoast, near Brande's residence. Here we found asteam yacht of about a thousand tons lying in theharbour with steam up.

The vessel was a beautiful model. Her linespromised great speed, but the comfort of her passengershad been no less considered by her builderwhen he gave her so much beam and so higha freeboard. The ship's furniture was the finestI had ever seen, and I had crossed every greatocean in the world. The library, especially, was[100]more suggestive of a room in the British Museumthan the batch of books usually carried at sea.But I have no mind to enter on a detailed descriptionof a beautiful pleasure ship while mystory waits. I only mention the general conditionof the vessel in evidence of the fact whichnow struck me for the first time—Brande musthave unlimited money. His mode of life inLondon and in the country, notwithstanding hispleasant house, was in the simplest style. Fromthe moment we entered his special train atCharing Cross, he flung money about him withwanton recklessness.

As we made our way through the crowd whichwas hanging about the quay, an unpleasant incidentoccurred. Miss Brande, with Halley andRockingham, became separated from Miss Metfordand myself and went on in front of us. Wefive had formed a sub-section of the main body,and were keeping to ourselves when the unavoidableseparation took place. A slight scream infront caused Miss Metford and myself to hurryforward. We found the others surrounded by agang of drunken sailors, who had stopped them.A red-bearded giant, frenzied with drink, hadseized Natalie in his arms. His abettor, a[101]swarthy Italian, had drawn his knife, and menacedHalley and Rockingham. The rest of theband looked on, and cheered their chiefs. Halleywas white to the lips; Rockingham was perfectlycalm, or, perhaps, indifferent. He called for apoliceman. Neither interfered. I did not blameRockingham; he was a man of the world, sonothing manly could be expected of him. ButHalley's cowardice disgusted me.

I rushed forward and caught the Italian frombehind, for his knife was dangerous. Seizinghim by the collar and waist, I swung him twice,and then flung him from me with all my strength.He spun round two or three times, and thencollided with a stack of timber. His head strucka beam, and he fell in his tracks without a word.The red-haired giant instantly released Natalieand put up his hands. The man's attitudeshowed that he knew nothing of defence. Iswept his guard aside, and struck him violentlyon the neck close to the ear. I was a trainedboxer; but I had never before struck a blow inearnest, or in such earnest, and I hardly knewmy own strength. The man went down with agrunt like a pole-axed ox, and lay where he fell.To a drunken sailor lad, who seemed anxious to[102]be included in this matter, I dealt a stingingsmack on the face with my open hand that satisfiedhim straightway. The others did not molestme. Turning from the crowd, I found EdithMetford looking at me with blazing eyes.

"Oh! Edith, how can you say that?" NatalieBrande exclaimed, still trembling. "Such dreadfulviolence! The poor men knew no better."

"Poor fiddlesticks! It is well for you thatMarcel is a man of violence. He's worth a dozensheep like—"

"Like whom, Miss Metford?" Rockinghamasked, glaring at her so viciously that I interposedwith a hasty entreaty that all shouldhurry to the ship. I did not trust the man.

Miss Metford was not so easily suppressed.She said leisurely, "I meant to say like you, andthis over-nervous but otherwise admirable boy.If you think 'sheep' derogatory, pray make it'goats.'"

I hurried them on board. Brande welcomedus at the gangway. The vessel was his own, sohe was as much at home on the ship as in hiscountry house. I had an important letter to write,[103]and very little time for the task. It was notfinished a moment too soon, for the moment thelast passenger and the last bale of luggage wason board, the captain's telegraph rang from thebridge, and theEsmeralda steamed out to sea.My letter, however, was safe on shore. The landwas low down upon the horizon before the longsummer twilight deepened slowly into night.Then one by one the shadowy cliffs grew dim,dark, and disappeared. We saw no more ofEngland until after many days of gradually culminatinghorror. The very night which was ourfirst at sea did not pass without a strange adventure,which happened, indeed, by an innocentoversight.

CHAPTER XI.
MORITURI TE SALUTANT.

We had been sitting on deck chairs smokingand talking for a couple of hours after the latedinner, which was served as soon as the vesselwas well out to sea, when Brande came ondeck. He was hailed with enthusiasm. Thisdid not move him, or even interest him. I wascareful not to join in the acclamations producedby his presence. He noticed this, and lightlycalled me recalcitrant. I admitted the justiceof the epithet, and begged him to consider itone which would always apply to me withequal force. He laughed at this, and contrastedmy gloomy fears with the excellent arrangementswhich he had made for my comfort. Iasked him what had become of Grey. I thoughtit strange that this man should be amongstthe absentees.[105]

"The same purpose which takes us to theArafura Sea," Brande answered, and passed on.

Presently there was a slight stir amongst thepeople, and the word was passed round thatBrande was about to undertake some interestingexperiment for the amusement of his guests.I hurried aft along with some other men withwhom I had been talking, and found MissBrande and Miss Metford standing hand in hand.Natalie's face was very white, and the only timeI ever saw real fear upon it was at thatmoment. I thought the incident on the quayhad unnerved her more than was apparent atthe time, and that she was still upset by it.She beckoned to me, and when I came to hershe seized my hand. She was trembling so muchher words were hardly articulate. Miss Metfordwas concerned for her companion's nervousness;but otherwise indifferent; while Natalie stoodholding our hands in hers like a frightenedchild awaiting the firing of a cannon.

"He's going to let off something, a rocket,I suppose," Miss Metford said to me. "Natalieseems to think he means to sink the ship."[106]

"No, he is going to etherize a drop of water."Natalie said this so seriously, we had no thoughtof laughter, incongruous as the cause of herfears might seem.

At that moment Brande addressed us fromthe top of the deckhouse, and explained that,in order to illustrate on a large scale the mostrecent discovery in natural science, he was aboutto disintegrate a drop of water, at present encasedin a hollow glass ball about the size of a pea,which he held between his thumb and forefinger.An electric light was turned upon himso that we could all see the thing quite plainly.He explained that there was a division in theball; one portion of it containing the drop ofwater, and the other the agent by which, whenthe dividing wall was eaten through by itsaction, the atoms of the water would be resolvedinto the ultimate ether of which theywere composed. As the disintegrating agent waspowerless in salt water, we might all feel assuredthat no great catastrophe would ensue.

Before throwing the glass ball overboard, a[107]careful search for the lights of ships was madefrom east to west, and north to south.

There was not a light to be seen anywhere.Brande threw the ball over the side. We weregoing under easy steam at the time, but themoment he left the deckhouse "full speed ahead"was rung from the bridge, and theEsmeraldashowed us her pace. She literally tore throughthe water when the engines were got full on.

Before we had gone a hundred yards a greatcry arose. A little fleet of French fishing-boatswith no lights up had been lying very close tous on the starboard bow. There they were,boatfuls of men, who waved careless adieus tous as we dashed past.

Brande was moved for a moment. Then heshrugged his shoulders and muttered, "It can't behelped now." We all felt that these simple wordsmight mean much. To test their full portent Iwent over to him, Natalie still holding my handwith trembling fingers.

"It would be useless. In this breeze they could[108]not sail a hundred yards in the time allowed, andthree miles is the nearest point of safety. I couldnot say definitely, as this is the first time I haveever tried an experiment so tremendous; but Ibelieve that if we even slowed to half speed, itwould be dangerous, and if we stopped, theEsmeralda would go to the bottom to-night, ascertainly as the sun will rise to-morrow."

"This serves no purpose. These men may noteven have a painless death, and the reality is moreawful than I thought."

Every face was turned to that point in the darknesstoward which the foaming wake of theEsmeralda stretched back. Not a word more wasspoken until Brande, who was standing, watch inhand, beside the light from the deckhouse, cameaft and said:

He could not have spoken more indifferently ifthe catastrophe he had planned was only the firingof a penny squib.

Then the sea behind us burst into a flame,followed by the sound of an explosion so frightful[109]that we were almost stunned by it. A huge massof water, torn up in a solid block, was hurled intothe air, and there it broke into a hundred roaringcataracts. These, in the brilliant search light fromthe ship which was now turned upon them full, felllike cataracts of liquid silver into the seethingcauldron of water that raged below. The instantthe explosion was over, our engines were reversed,and theEsmeralda went full speed astern. Thewaves were still rolling in tumultuous breakerswhen we got back. We might as well have goneon.

"You expect us, I suppose, to believe that theexplosion was really caused by a drop of water?"

"Etherized," he interrupted. "Certainly I do.You don't believe it—on what grounds?"

"Pshaw! You deny a fact because you do notunderstand it. Ignorance is not evidence."

"It is fortunate that the accident took place atsea. There will be no inquests."

"Oh! I am sorry for the accident. As for themen, they might have had a worse fate. It isbetter than living in life-long misery as they do.Besides, both they and the fishes that will eatthem will soon be numbered amongst the thingsthat have been."

CHAPTER XII.
"NO DEATH—SAVE IN LIFE."

For some days afterwards our voyage was uneventful,and the usual shipboard amusementswere requisitioned to while away the tedioushours. The French fishing fleet was never mentioned.We got through the Bay with very littleknocking about, and passed the Rock withoutcalling. I was not disappointed, for there wasslight inducement for going ashore, oppressed as Iwas with the ever-present incubus of dread. Atintervals this feeling became less acute, but onlyto return, strengthened by its short absences.After a time my danger sense became blunted.The nervous system became torpid under continuousstress, and refused to pass on the sensationswith sufficient intensity to the brain; or theweary brain was asleep at its post and did notheed the warnings. I could think no more.

And this reminds me of something which I must[112]tell about young Halley. For several days afterthe voyage began, the boy avoided me. I knewhis reason for doing this. I myself did not blamehim for his want of physical courage, but I wasglad that he himself was ashamed of it.

"I wish to speak to you, Marcel. Imustspeak to you. It is about that miserable episodeon the evening we left England. I acted like acad. Therefore I must be a cad. I only want totell you that I despise myself as much as you can.And that I envy you. I never thought that Ishould envy a man simply because he had nonervous system."

"Who is this man without a nervous system ofwhom you speak?" I asked coldly. I was notsorry that I had an opportunity of reading him alesson which might be placed opposite the manyindignities which had been put upon me, in theform mainly of shoulder shrugs, brow elevations,and the like.

"You, of course. I mean no offence—you aremagnificent. I am honest in saying that I admireyou. I wish I was like you in height, weight,muscle—and absence of nervous system."[113]

"And I will keep my own nervous system," Ireplied. "And the difference between mine andyours is this: that whereas my own danger senseis, or was, as keen as your own, I have my reserveof nerve force—or had it—which might be reliedon to tide me over a sudden emergency. Thisreserve you have expended on your brain. Thereare two kinds of cowards; the selfish coward whocares for no interest save his own; the unselfishcoward who cares nothing for himself, but whocannot face a danger because he dare not. Andthere are two kinds of brave men; the nervelessman you spoke of, who simply faces danger becausehe does not appreciate it, and the man whofaces danger because, although he fears it he daresit. I have no difficulty in placing you in this list."

"A coward because you cannot help it. Youare merely out of harmony with your environment.You ought to bring a supply of 'environment'about with you, seeing that you cannotmanufacture it off-hand like myself. I wish tobe alone. Good-day."[114]

"Before I go, Marcel, I will say this." Therewere tears in his eyes. "These people do notreally know you, with all their telepathic power.You are not—not—"

"Not as great a fool as they think. Thank you.I mean to prove that to them some day."

With that I turned away from him, although Ifelt that he would have gladly stayed longer withme.

While theEsmeralda was sweeping over thelong swells of the Mediterranean, I heard Brandelecture for the second time. It was a fittinginterlude between his first and third addresses.I might classify them thus—the first, critical;the second, constructive; the third, executive.His third speech was the last he made in theworld.

We were assembled in the saloon. It wouldhave been pleasanter on the upper deck, owing tothe heat, but the speaker could not then havebeen easily heard in the noise of the wind andwaves. I could scarcely believe that it wasBrande who arose to speak, so changed was hisexpression. The frank scepticism, which had onlyrecently degenerated into a cynicism, still temperedwith a half kindly air of easy superiority, was gone.[115]In its place there was a look of concentrated andrelentless purpose which dominated the man himselfand all who saw him. He began in forcibleand direct sentences, with only a faintly reminiscenteloquence which was part of himself, andfrom which he could not without a consciouseffort have freed his style. But the whole bearingof the man had little trace in it of the dilettanteacademician whom we all remembered.

"When I last addressed this Society," he began,"I laboured under a difficulty in arriving atultimate truth which was of my own manufacture.I presupposed, as you will remember, the indestructibilityof the atom, and, in logical consequenceI was bound to admit the conservation ofsuffering, the eternity of misery. But on thatevening many of my audience were untaught inthe rudiments of ultimate thought, and some werestill sceptical of thebona fides of our purpose, andour power to achieve its object. To them, in theirthen ineptitude, what I shall say now would havebeen unintelligible. For in the same way that thewaves of light or sound exceeding a certainmaximum can not be transferred to the brain bydull eyes and ears, my thought pulsations wouldhave escaped those auditors by virtue of their own[116]irresponsiveness. To-night I am free from thelimitation which I then suffered, because there arenone around me now who have not sufficientknowledge to grasp what I shall present.

"You remember that I traced for you the storyof evolution in its journey from the atom to thestar. And I showed you that the hypothesis ofthe indestructibility of the atom was simply acreed of cruelty writ large. I now proceed on thelines of true science to show you how thathypothesis is false; that as the atomis destructible—asyou have seen by our experiments (thelast of which resulted in a climax not intended byme)—the whole scheme of what is called creationfalls to pieces. As the atom was the first ethericblunder, so the material Universe is the grandetheric mistake.

"In considering the marvellous and miserablesuccession of errors resulting from the meretriciousatomic remedy adopted by the ether to cure itslocal sores, it must first be said of the ether itselfthat there is too much of it. Space is not sufficientfor it. Thus, the particles of ether—those imponderableentities which vibrate through a blockof marble or a disc of hammered steel with only adulled, not an annihilated motion, are by their[117]own tumultuous plenty packed closer togetherthan they wish. I say wish, for if all materialconsciousness and sentiency be founded on atomicconsciousness, then in its turn atomic consciousnessis founded upon, and dependent on, etheric consciousness.These particles of ether, therefore,when too closely impinged upon by their neighbours,resent the impact, and in doing so initiateetheric whirlwinds, from whose vast perturbancesstupendous drifts set out. In their gigantic powerthese avalanches crush the particles which impedethem, force the resisting medium out of its normalstage, destroy the homogeneity of its constituents,and mass them into individualistic communitieswhose vibrations play with greater freedom whenthey synchronise. The homogeneous etherictendencies recede and finally determine.

"By a similar process—which I may liken tothat of putting off an evil day which some timemust be endured—the atoms group themselves intomolecules. In their turn the molecules go forth towar, capturing or being captured; the vibrationsof the slaves always being forced to synchronisewith those of their conquerors. The nucleus ofthe gas of a primal metal is now complete, and the[118]foundation of a solar system—paltry molecule ofthe Universe as it is—is laid. Thereafter, the restis easily followed. It is described in your schoolbooks, and must not occupy me now.

"But one word I will interpolate which mayserve to explain a curious and interesting humanbelief. You are aware of how, in times past, menof absolutely no scientific insight held firmly tothe idea that an elixir of life and a philosopher'sstone might be discovered, and that these twoobjects were nearly always pursued contemporaneously.That is to my mind an extraordinaryexample of the force of atomic consciousness.The idea itself was absolutely correct; but themen who followed it had slight knowledge of itsunity, and none whatever of its proper pursuit.They would have worked on their special lines toeternity before advancing a single step towardtheir object. And this because they did not knowwhat life was, and death was, and what the metalsultimately signified which they, blind fools, sounsuccessfully tried to transmute. But we knowmore than they. We have climbed no doubt in thefootholds they have carved, and we have gainedthe summit they only saw in the mirage of hope.For we know that there is no life, no death, no[119]metals, no matter, no emotions, no thoughts; butthat all that we call by these names is only theether in various conditions. Life! I could liveas long as this earth will submit to human existenceif I had studied that paltry problem.Metals! The ship in which you sail was boughtwith gold manufactured in my crucibles.

"The unintelligent—or I should say the grosslyignorant—have long held over the heads of thepioneers of science these two great charges: Noman has ever yet transmuted a metal; no man hasever yet proved the connecting link betweenorganic and inorganic life. I saylife, for I takeit that this company admits that a slab of graniteis as much alive as any man or woman I seebefore me. But I have manufactured gold, and Icould have manufactured protoplasm if I haddevoted my life to that object. My studies havebeen almost wholly on the inorganic plane. Hencethe 'philosopher's stone' came in my way, butnot the 'elixir of life.' The molecules of protoplasmare only a little more complex than themolecules of hydrogen or nitrogen or iron or coal.You may fuse iron, vaporise water, intermix thegases; but the molecules of all change little insuch metamorphosis. And you may slay twenty[120]thousand men at Waterloo or Sedan, or tenthousand generations may be numbered with thedust, and not an ounce of protoplasm lies dead.All molecules are merely arrangements of atomsmade under different degrees of pressure and ofdifferent ages. And all atoms are constructed ofidentical constituents—the ether, as I have said.Therefore the ether, which was from the beginning,is now, and ever shall be, which is thesame yesterday, to-day, and for ever, is the originof force, of matter, of life.

"Its starry children are so many that the sandsof the sea-shore may not be used as a similitude fortheir multitude; and they extend so far that distancemay not be named in relation to them.They are so high above us and so deep below usthat there is neither height nor depth in them.There is neither east nor west in them, nor northand south in them. Nor is there beginningor end to them. Time drops his scythe andstands appalled before that dreadful host. Numberapplies not to its eternal multitudes. Distanceis lost in boundless space. And from all the starsthat stud the caverns of the Universe, there swells[121]this awful chorus: Failure! failure and futility!And the ether is to blame!

"Heterogeneous suffering is more acute thanhomogeneous, because the agony is intensified bybeing localised; because the comfort of the comfortableis purchasable only by the multipliedmisery of the miserable; because aristocraticleisure requires that the poor should be alwayswith it. There is, therefore, no gladness withoutits overbalancing sorrow. There is no good withoutintenser evil. There is no death save in life.

"Back, then, from this ill-balanced and unfairlong-suffering, this insufficient existence. Backto Nirvana—the ether! And I will lead theway.

"The agent I will employ has cost me all life todiscover. It will release the vast stores of ethericenergy locked up in the huge atomic warehouseof this planet. I shall remedy the grand mistakeonly to a degree which it would be preposterous tocall even microscopic; but when I have done whatI can, I am blameless for the rest. In due seasonthe whole blunder will be cured by the samemeans that I shall use, and all the hideous experimentwill be over, and everlasting rest orquasi-restwill supersede the magnificent failure of[122]material existence. This earth, at least, and, Iam encouraged to hope, the whole solar system,will by my instrumentality be restored to theether from which it never should have emerged.Once before, in the history of our system, aneffort similar to mine was made, unhappily withoutsuccess.

A low murmur rose from the audience as thelecturer concluded, and a hushed whisper asked:

CHAPTER XIII.
MISS METFORD'S PLAN.

We coaled at Port Said like any ordinarysteamer. Although I had more than once madethe Red Sea voyage, I had never before takenthe slightest interest in the coaling of the vesselon which I was a passenger. This time everythingwas different. That which interested mebefore seemed trivial now. And that whichhad before seemed trivial was now absorbing.I watched the coaling—commonplace as the spectaclewas—with vivid curiosity. The red lights,the sooty demons at work, every bag of coalsthey carried, and all the coal dust clouds theycreated, were fitting episodes in a voyage suchas ours. We took an enormous quantity of coalon board. I remained up most of the night ina frame of mind which I thought none mightenvy. I myself would have made light of ithad I known what was still in store for the[124]Esmeralda and her company. It was nearlymorning when I turned in. When I awoke wewere nearing the Red Sea.

On deck, the conversation of our party wasalways eccentric, but this must be said for it:there was sometimes a scintillating brilliance init that almost blinded one to its extremeabsurdity. The show of high spirits which wasvery general was, in the main, unaffected. Forthe rest it was plainly assumed. But those whoassumed their parts did so with a histrionicpower which was all the more surprising whenit is remembered that the origin of their excellentplaying was centred in their own fears. Ipreserved a neutral attitude. I did not ventureon any overt act of insubordination.That would have only meant my destruction,without any counter-balancing advantage inthe way of baulking an enterprise in which Iwas a most unwilling participator. And topretend what I did not feel was a task whichI had neither stomach to undertake nor abilityto carry out successfully. In consequence I keptmy own counsel—and that of Edith Metford.

Brande was the most easily approached maniacI had ever met. His affability continued[125]absolutely consistent. I took advantage of thisto say to him on a convenient opportunity:"Why did you bring these people with you?They must all be useless, and many of themlittle better than a nuisance!"

"Marcel, you are improving. Have youattained the telepathic power? You have readmy mind." This was said with a pleasantsmile.

"Your diagnosis is correct. I answer you ina sentence. They are all sympathetic, andhuman sympathy is necessary to me until mypurpose is fulfilled."

Next evening as we were steaming down theblue waters—deep blue they always seemed[126]to me—of the Red Sea, I was sitting on theforedeck smoking and trying to think. I didnot notice how the time passed. What seemedto me an hour at most, must have been threeor four. With the exception of the men ofthe crew who were on duty, I was alone, forthe heat was intense, and most of our peoplewere lying in their cabins prostrated in spiteof the wind-sails which were spread from everyport to catch the breeze. My meditations wereas usual gloomy and despondent. They wereinterrupted by Miss Metford. She joined meso noiselessly that I was not aware of her presenceuntil she laid her hand on my arm. I startedat her touch, but she whispered a sharp warning,so full of suppressed emotion that I instantlyrecovered a semblance of unconcern.

The girl was very white and nervous. Thiscontrast from her usual equanimity was disquieting.She clung to me hysterically as shegasped:

"Marcel, it is a mercy I have found you alone,and that there is one sane man in this shipfulof lunatics."

"I am afraid you are not altogether right," Isaid, as I placed a seat for her close to mine.[127]"I can hardly be sane when I am a voluntarypassenger on board this vessel."

"Do you really think they mean what theysay?" she asked hurriedly, without noticing myremark.

"I really think they have discovered the secretof extraordinary natural forces, so powerful andso terrible that no one can say what they mayor may not accomplish. And that is the reasonI begged you not to come on this voyage."

I wondered at the sudden intensity of the girl'ssharp gasp when I said this, and marvelled too,how she, who had always been so mannish, nestledclose to me and allowed her head to sink downon my shoulder. I pitied the strong-willed,self-reliant nature which had given way undersome strain of which I had yet to be told. SoI stooped and touched her cheek with my lips[128]in a friendly way, at which she looked up to mewith half-closed eyes, and whispered in a voicestrangely soft and womanish for her:

I stroked her soft cheek gently, and urged aless hopeless view. "Even if the worst come,we may as well live as long as we can."

Whereupon to my surprise she, having shotone quick glance into my eyes, put my arm awayand drew her chair apart from mine. Her headwas turned away from me, but I could not butnotice that her bosom rose and fell swiftly.Presently she faced round again, lit a cigarette,put her hands in the pocket of her jacket, andher feet on another chair, and said indifferently:

"You are right. Even if the worst must come,we may as well live as long as we can."

This sudden change in her manner surprisedme. I knew I had no art in dealing with women,so I let it pass without comment, and looked outat the glassy sea.

"Well, I know how it is to be done. Nataliewas restless last night—you know that we sharethe same cabin—and she raved a bit. I kept herin her berth by sheer force, but I allowed herto talk."

This was serious. I drew my chair close toMiss Metford's and whispered, "For heaven'ssake, speak low." Then I remembered Brande'spower, and wrung my hands in helpless impotence."You forget Brande. At this moment he is takingdown every word we say."

"I don't forget. By accident I put morphia inthe tonic he takes, and he is now past telepathyfor some hours at least. He's sound asleep. Isuppose if I had not done it by accident hewould have known what I was doing, and sohave refused the medicine. Anyhow, accident orno accident, I have done it."

"And this precious disintegrating agent! Theyhaven't it with them, it seems. To manufactureit in sufficient quantity would be impossible in[130]any civilised country without fear of detectionor interruption. Brande has the prescription,formula—what do you call it?—and if you couldget the paper and—"

"Steal the paper and—wouldn't it do to putin an extrax ory, or stick a couple of additionalfigures into any suitable vacancy? Don't youthink they'd go on with the scheme and—"

"Miss Metford," I said, rising from my chair,"I mean Metford, I know you like to be addressedas a man—or used to like it."

"I'm hanged if you are!" she exclaimed, sosharply that I was suddenly abashed. My intendedfamiliarity and its expression appearedgrotesque, although a few minutes before she wasso friendly. But I could not waste precious time[131]in studying a girl's caprices, so I asked atonce:

"I saidsteal it, if you recollect." Her voicewas now hard, almost harsh. "You can get itin Brande's cabin, if you are neither afraid norjealous."

"I mean, would you, to save Natalie Brande—forthey will certainly succeed in blowing themselvesup, if nobody else—consent to her marryinganother man, say that young lunatic Halley,who is always dangling after her when you arenot?"

"Yes," I answered, after some thought. ForHalley's attentions to Natalie had been so marked,the plainly inconsequent mention of him in thismatter did not strike me. "If that is necessaryto save her, of course I would consent to it.Why do you ask? In my place you would dothe same."

"No. I'd see the ship and all its preciouspassengers at the bottom of the sea first."

"Right! and what's more, I'm glad of it."Then looking down at the rational part of hercostume, she added sharply, "I sha'n't wear thesethings again."

CHAPTER XIV.
ROCKINGHAM TO THE SHARKS.

At one o'clock in the morning I arose, dressedhurriedly, drew on a pair of felt slippers, andput a revolver in my pocket. It was then timeto put Edith Metford's proposal to the proof, andshe would be waiting for me on deck to hearwhether I had succeeded in it. We had parteda couple of hours before on somewhat chillingterms. I had agreed to follow her suggestion,but I could not trouble my tired brain by guessesat the cause of her moods.

It was very dark. There was only enoughlight to enable me to find my way along thecorridor, off which the state-rooms occupied byBrande and his immediate lieutenants opened.All the sleepers were restless from the terribleheat. As I stole along, a muffled word, a sigh, ora movement in the berths, made me pause at[134]every step with a beating heart. Having listenedtill all was quiet, I moved on again noiselessly.I was almost at the end of the corridor. So intenthad I been on preserving perfect silence, itdid not sooner occur to me that I was searchingfor any special door. I had forgotten Brande'snumber!

I could no more think of it than one can recallthe name of a half-forgotten acquaintance suddenlyencountered in the street. It might havebeen fourteen, or forty-one; or a hundred andfifty. Every number was as likely as it was unlikely.I tried vainly to concentrate my mind.The result was nothing. The missing numbergave no clue. To enter the wrong room in thatship at that hour meant death for me. Of thatI was certain. To leave the right room unenteredgave away my first chance in the unequal battlewith Brande. Then, as I knew that my firstchance would probably be my last, if not availedof, I turned to the nearest door and quietly triedthe handle. The door was not locked. I enteredthe state-room.

"Pardon me," I whispered, "a mistake. The[135]heat, you know. Went on deck, and have blunderedinto your room."

I went out and closed the door quietly. I hadgained something. I was within one door of mydestination, for I knew that Halley was berthedbetween Rockingham and Brande. But I did notknow on which side Brande's room was, and Idared not ask. I tried the next door goingforward. It opened like the other. I went in.

"Hallo there!" This time no sleepy or carelessman challenged me. It was Rockingham'svoice.

"This is not your room. You are?" Rockinghamsprang up in his berth, but before he couldleave it I was upon him.

"I am Arthur Marcel. And this iron ringwhich I press against your left ear is the muzzleof my revolver. Speak, move, breathe above yournatural breath and your brains go through thatporthole. Now, loose your hold of my arm andcome with me."[136]

He was about to call out, but my left handclosed on his throat, and a gurgling gasp was allthat issued from him.

I laid down the revolver and turned the ear ofthe strangling man close to my mouth. I hadlittle time to think; but thought flies fast whensuch deadly peril menaces the thinker as thatwhich I must face if I failed to make terms withthe man who was in my power. I knew that notwithstandinghis intensely disagreeable nature,if he gave his promise either by spoken word orequivalent sign, I could depend upon him. Therewere no liars in Brande's Society. But the word Icould not trust him to say. I must have his sign.I whispered:

"You know I do not wish to kill you. I shallnever have another happy day if you force me toit. I have no choice. You must yield or die. Ifyou will yield and stand by me rather than againstme in what shall follow, choose life by taking yourright hand from my wrist and touching my leftshoulder. I will not hurt you meanwhile. If youchoose death, touch me with your left."

The sweat stood on my forehead in big beads as[137]I waited for his choice. It was soon made. Heunlocked his left hand and placed it firmly on myright shoulder.

So the man was only a physical coward—orperhaps he had only made a choice of alternatives.

I said slowly and in great agony, "May Godhave mercy on your soul—and mine!" on whichthe muscles in my left arm stiffened. The bigbiceps—an heirloom of my athletic days—thickenedup, and I turned my eyes away from the dyingface, half hidden by the darkness. His struggleswere very terrible, but with my weight upon hislower limbs, and my grasp upon his windpipe, thatdeath-throe was as silent as it was horrible. Theend came slowly. I could not bear the horror ofit longer. I must finish it and be done with it.I put my right arm under the man's shoulders andraised the upper part of his body from the berth.Then a desperate wrench with my left arm, andthere was a dull crack like the snapping of adry stick. It was over. Rockingham's neckwas broken.

I wiped away the bloody froth that oozed fromthe gaping mouth, and tried to compose decentlythe contorted figure. I covered the face. Then[138]I started on my last mission, for now I knew thedoor. I had bought the knowledge dearly, andI meant to use it for my own purpose, careless ofwhat violence might be necessary to accomplishmy end.

When I entered Brande's state-room I found theelectric light full on. He was seated at a writing-tablewith his head resting on his arms, whichhung crossways over the desk. The sleeperbreathed so deeply it was evident that the effectof the morphia was still strong upon him. Onehand clutched a folded parchment. His fingersclasped it nervelessly, and I had only to force themopen one by one in order to withdraw the manuscript.As I did this, he moaned and moved in hischair. I had no fear of his awaking. My handshook as I unfolded the parchment which I unconsciouslyhandled as carefully as though thething itself were as deadly as the destructionwhich might be wrought by its direction.

To me the whole document was a mass ofunintelligible formulæ. My rusty universityeducation could make nothing of it. But I couldnot waste time in trying to solve the puzzle,for I did not know what moment some othervisitor might arrive to see how Brande fared.[139]I first examined with a pocket microscope theink of the manuscript, and then making a scratchwith Brande's pen on a page of my note-book,I compared the two. The colours were identical.It was the same ink.

In several places where a narrow space hadbeen left vacant, I put 1 in front of the figureswhich followed. I had no reason for makingthis particular alteration, save that the figure 1is more easily forged than any other, and theforgery is consequently more difficult to detect.My additions, when the ink was dry, could onlyhave been discovered by one who was informedthat the document had been tampered with.It was probable that a drawer which stood openwith the keys in the lock was the place whereBrande kept this paper; where he would lookfor it on awaking. I locked it in the drawerand put the keys into his pocket.

There was something still to do with the sleepingman, whose brain compassed such marvellouspowers. His telepathic faculty must be destroyed.I must keep him seriously ill, without killinghim. As long as he remained alive his friendswould never question his calculations, and thefiasco which was possible under any circumstances[140]would then be assured. I had with me anEastern drug, which I had bought from anIndian fakir once in Murzapoor. The man wasan impostor, whose tricks did not impose onme. But the drug, however he came by it, wasreliable. It was a poison which produced amild form of cerebritis that dulled but did notdeaden the mental powers. It acted almostidentically whether administered sub-cutaneouslyor, of course in a larger dose, internally. Ibrought it home with the intention of givingit to a friend who was interested in vivisection.I did not think that I myself should be thefirst and last to experiment with it. It servedmy purpose well.

The moment I pricked his skin, Brande movedin his seat. My hand was on his throat. Henestled his head down again upon his arms, anddrew a deep breath. Had he moved again thatbreath would have been his last. I had beenso wrought upon by what I had already donethat night, I would have taken his life withoutthe slightest hesitation, if the sacrifice seemednecessary.

When my operation was over, I left the roomand moved silently along the corridor till I came[141]to the ladder leading to the deck. Edith Metfordwas waiting for me as we had arranged. Shewas shivering in spite of the awful heat.

"I have," I answered, without saying howmuch I had done. "Now you must retire—andrest easy. The formula won't work. Ihave put both it and Brande himself out ofgear."

"Thank God!" she gasped, and then a suddenfaintness came over her. It passed quickly,and as soon as she was sufficiently restored, Ibegged her to go below. She pleaded that shecould not sleep, and asked me to remain withher upon the deck. "It would be absurd tosuppose that either of us could sleep this night,"she very truly said. On which I was obligedto tell her plainly that she must go below. Ihad more to do.

"No. If you could, I would ask you, for youare a brave girl. I have something now to getthrough which is not woman's work."

There was no time for discussion, so I told herat once, knowing that she would not give wayotherwise. She started at my words, but saidfirmly:

"How will you do that unobserved by the'watch'? Go down and bring up your—bringit up. I will keep the men employed." Shewent forward, and I turned again to the companion.

When I got back to Rockingham's cabin I tooka sheet of paper and wrote, "Heat—Mad!" makingno attempt to imitate his writing. I simplyscrawled the words with a rough pen in the hopethat they would pass as a message from a manwho was hysterical when he wrote them. ThenI turned to the berth and took up the body. Itwas not a pleasant thing to do. But it must bedone.

I was a long time reaching the deck, for thearms and legs swung to and fro, and I had tomove cautiously lest they should knock againstthe woodwork I had to pass. I got it safely upand hurried aft with it. Edith, I knew, would[143]contrive to keep the men on watch engaged untilI had disposed of my burden. I picked up a coilof rope and made it fast to the dead man's neck.Taking one turn of the rope round a boat-davit, Ipushed the thing over the rail. I intended to letgo the rope the moment the weight attached to itwas safely in the sea, and so lowered awaysilently, paying out the line without excessivestrain owing to the support of the davit roundwhich I had wound it. I had not to wait so longas that, for just as the body was dangling overthe foaming wake of the steamer, a little streakof moonlight shot out from behind a bank ofcloud and lighted the vessel with a sudden gleam.I was startled by this, and held on, fearing thatsome watching eye might see my curious movements.For a minute I leaned over the rail andwatched the track of the steamer as though I hadcome on deck for the air. There was a quickrush near the vessel's quarter. Something darkleaped out of the water, and there was a sharpsnap—a crunch. The lower limbs were gone inthe jaws of a shark. I let go the rope in horror,and the body dropped splashing into that[144]hideous fishing-ground. Sick to death I turnedaway.

"Get below quickly," Edith Metford said in myear. "They heard the splash, slight as it was,and are coming this way." Her warning wasnearly a sob.

We hurried down the companion as fast aswe dared, and listened to the comments of thewatch above. They were soon satisfied that nothingof importance had occurred, and resumedtheir stations.

Before we parted on that horrible night, Edithsaid in a trembling voice, "You have done yourwork like a brave man."

"No," she maintained. "Many men before youhave done much worse in a good cause. You arenot a forger. You are a diplomat. You are not amurderer. You are a hero."

But I, being new to this work of slaughter anddeception, could only deprecate her sympathy anddraw away. I felt that my very presence nearher was pollution. I was unclean, and I told her[145]that I was so. Whereupon, without hesitation,she put her arms round my neck, and said clingingclosely to me:

"You are not unclean—you are free from guilt.And—Arthur—I will kiss you now."

CHAPTER XV.
"IF NOT TOO LATE!"

When I came on deck next morning the coast ofArabia was rising, a thin thread of hazy blue betweenthe leaden grey of the sea and the soft greyof the sky. The morning was cloudy, and theblazing sunlight was veiled in atmospheric gauze.I had hardly put my foot on deck when NatalieBrande ran to meet me. I hung back guiltily.

I muttered some incoherent words, to whichshe did not attend, but went on hurriedly:

"Rockingham has thrown himself overboard ina hysterical fit, brought on by the heat. Thesailors heard the splash—"

"I know they did." This escaped me unawares,and I instantly prevaricated, "I have been toldabout that."

I could have conscientiously answered thisquestion affirmatively also. Her sudden sympathyfor human misadventure jarred upon me,as it had done once before, when I thought of theostensible object of the cruise. I said harshly:

"Then Rockingham is at rest, and your brotheris on the road to it." It was a brutal speech. Ithad a very different effect to that which I intended.

"True," she said. "But think of the awfulconsequences if, now that Rockingham is gone,Herbert should be seriously ill."

"I do think of it," I said stiffly. Indeed, Icould hardly keep from adding that I had providedfor it.

"You must come to him at once. I havefaith in you." This gave me a twinge. "Ihave no faith in Percival" (the ship's doctor).

She described the treatment, and as this wasexactly what I myself would have prescribed toput my own previous interference right, I promisedto come at once, saying:[148]

"That is exactly what I thought," Natalieagreed, leading me to Brande's cabin. I foundhis vitality lower than I expected, and he wasvery impatient. The whole purpose of his lifewas at stake, dependent on his preserving ahealthy body, on which, in turn, a vigorous minddepends.

"How soon can you get me up?" he askedsharply, when my pretended examination was over.

"It does depend on you. I know life itself.You know the paltry science of organic life.I have had no time for such trivial study.Get me well within three days, or—"

"By the hold over my sister's imaginationwhich I have gained, I will kill her on thefourth morning from now."

"I tell you I will," Brande shrieked, startingup in his berth. "I could do it now."[149]

"Man, do you know what you are saying?You to bandy words with me! A clod-brainedfool to dare a man of science! Man of scienceforsooth! Your men of science are to me asbrain-benumbed, as brain-bereft, as that fly whichI crush—thus!"

The buzzing insect was indeed dead. But Iwas something more than a fly. At last I was ona fair field with this scientific magician or madman.And on a fair field I was not afraid ofhim.

"You are agitating yourself unnecessarily andinjuriously," I said in my best professional manner."And if you persist in doing so you willmake my one month three."

In a voice of undisguised scorn, Brande exclaimed,without noticing my interruption:

"Bearded by a creature whose little mind is tome like the open page of a book to read when thehumour seizes me." Then with a fierce glance atme he cried:

He threw himself back in his berth and strove[150]to concentrate his mind. For nearly five minuteshe lay quite still, and then he said gently:

"I mean that I have merely paralysed yourbrain—that for many months to come it will notbe restored to its normal power—that it willnever reach its normal power again unless Ichoose."

"Then all is lost—lost—lost!" he wailed out."The end is as far off, and the journey as long,and the way as hard, as if I had never striven.And the tribute of human tears will be exactedto the uttermost. My life has been in vain!"

The absolute agony in his voice, the note ofalmost superhuman suffering and despair, was sointense, that, without thinking of what it wasthis man was grieving over, I found myself sayingsoothingly:

"No, no! Nothing is lost. It is only yourown overstrained nervous system which sendsthese fantastic nightmares to your brain. I willsoon make you all right if you will listen toreason."[151]

He turned to me with the most appealing lookwhich I had ever seen in human eyes save oncebefore—when Natalie pleaded with me.

"I had forgotten," he said, "the issue now liesin your hands. Choose rightly. Choose mercy."

"I will," I answered shortly, for his requestbrought me back with a jerk to his motive.

"I will keep you in your present conditionuntil I have your most solemn assurance thatyou will neither go farther yourself nor instigateothers to go farther with this preposterous schemeof yours."

"Bah!" Brande ejaculated contemptuously, andlay back with a sudden content. "My brain iscertainly out of order, else I should not haveforgotten—until your words recalled it—the Labradorexpedition."

"Yes. On the day we sailed for the ArafuraSea, Grey started with another party for Labrador.If we fail to act before the 31st December, in theyear 1900, he will proceed. And the end of thecentury will be the date of the end of the earth.I will signal to him now."[152]

His face changed suddenly. For a moment Ithought he was dead. Then the dreadful factcame home to me. He was telegraphing telepathicallyto Grey. So the murder that wasupon my soul had been done in vain. Thenanother life must be taken. Better a doublecrime than one resultless tragedy. I was sparedthis.

Brande opened his eyes wearily, and sighedas if fatigued. The effort, short as it was, musthave been intense. He was prostrated. Hisvoice was low, almost a whisper, as he said:

"You have succeeded beyond belief. I cannoteven signal him, much less exchange ideas." Withthat he turned his face from me, and instantlyfell into a deep sleep.

I left the cabin and went on deck. As usual,it was fairly sprinkled over with the passengers,but owing to the strong head-wind caused by thespeed of the steamer, there was a little nook inthe bow where there was no one to trouble mewith unwelcome company.

I sat down on an arm of the starboard anchorand tried to think. The game which seemed sonearly won had all to be played over again fromthe first move. If I had killed Brande—which[153]surely would have been justifiable—the otherexpedition would go on from where he left off.And how should I find them? And who wouldbelieve my story when I got back to England?

Brande must go on. His attempt to wreckthe earth, even if the power he claimed werenot overrated, would fail. For if the compoundsof a common explosive must be so nicely balancedas they require to be, surely the addition of thefigures which I had made in his formula wouldupset the balance of constituents in an agent sodelicate, though so powerful, as that which hehad invented. When the master failed, it wasmore than probable that the pupil would distrustthe invention, and return to London forfresh experiments. Then a clean sweep must bemade of the whole party. Meantime, it was plainthat Brande must be allowed the opportunityof failing. And this it would be my hazardousduty to superintend.

I returned to Brande's cabin with my mindmade up. He was awake, and looked at meeagerly, but waited for me to speak. Our conversationwas brief, for I had little sympathywith my patient, and the only anxiety I experiencedabout his health was the hope that he[154]would not die until he had served my purpose.

After this I did not speak to Brande on anysubject but that of his symptoms, and before longhe was able to come on deck. The month I spokeof as the duration of his illness was an intentionalexaggeration on my part.

Rockingham was forgotten with a suddennessand completeness that was almost ghastly. TheSociety claimed to have improved the old maximto speak nothing of the dead save what is good.Of the dead they spoke not at all. It is acallous creed, but in this instance it pleased mewell.

We did not touch at Aden, and I was glad ofit. The few attractions of the place, the divingboys and the like, may be a relief in ordinarysea voyages, but I was too much absorbed in myexperiment on Brande to bear with patience anydelay which served to postpone the crisis of my[155]scheme. I had treated him well, so far as hisbodily health went, but I deliberately continuedto tamper with his brain, so that any return ofhis telepathic power was thus prevented. Indeed,Brande himself was not anxious for such return.The power was always exercised at an extremenervous strain, and it was now, he said, unnecessaryto his purpose.

In consequence of this determination, I modifiedthe already minute doses of the drug I wasgiving him. This soon told with advantage onhis health. His physical improvement partlyrestored his confidence in me, so that he followedmy instructions faithfully. He evidently recognisedthat he was in my power; that if I didnot choose to restore him fully no other mancould.

Of the ship's officers, Anderson, who was incommand, and Percival, the doctor, were men ofsome individuality. The captain was a goodsailor and an excellent man of business. In thefirst capacity, he was firm, exacting, and scrupulouslyconscientious. In the second, his consciencewas more elastic when he saw his way clear tohis own advantage. He had certain rigid rulesof conduct which he prided himself on observing[156]to the letter, without for a moment suspectingthat theirraison d'etre lay in his own interests.His commercial morality only required him tokeep within the law. His final contract withmyself was, I admit, faithfully carried out, butthe terms of it would not have discredited themost predatory business man in London town.

Percival was the opposite pole of such a character.He was a clever man, who might haverisen in his profession but for his easy-goingindolence. I spent many an hour in his cabin.He was a sportsman and a skilledraconteur. Hisanecdotes helped to while the weary time away.He exaggerated persistently, but this did notdisturb me. Besides, if in his narratives helengthened out the hunt a dozen miles and increasedthe weight of the fish to an impossiblefigure, made the brace a dozen and the ten-tonboat a man-of-war, it was not because he wasdeliberately untruthful. He looked back on hisfeats through the telescope of a strongly magnifyingmemory. It was more agreeable to meto hear him boast his prowess than have himinquire after the health and treatment of mypatient Brande. On this matter he was naturallyvery curious, and I very reticent.[157]

That Brande did not entirely trust me was evidentfrom his confusion when I surprised himonce reading his formula. His anxiety to convinceme that it was only a commonplace memorandumwas almost ludicrous. I was glad to seehim anxious about that document. The morecarefully he preserved it, and the more faithfullyhe adhered to its conditions, the better for myexperiment. A sense of security followed thisincident. It did not last long. It ended thatevening.

After a day of almost unendurable heat, Iwent on deck for a breath of air. We werewell out in the Indian Ocean, and soundingswere being attempted by some of our naturalists.I sat alone and watched the sun sinkdown into the glassy ocean on which our rushingvessel was the only thing that moved. As thedarkness of that hot, still night gathered, weirdgleams of phosphorus broke from the steamer'sbows and streamed away behind us in longlines of flashing spangles. Where the swellcaused by the passage of the ship rose in curlingwaves, these, as they splashed into mimicbreakers, burst into showers of flamboyant light.The water from the discharge-pipe poured down[158]in a cascade, that shone like silver. Every turnof the screw dashed a thousand flashes on eitherside, and the heaving of the lead was like theflight of a meteor, as it plunged with a luminoustrail far down into the dark unfathomable depthsbelow.

My name was spoken softly. Natalie Brandestood beside me. The spell was complete. Theunearthly glamour of the magical scene hadbeen compassed by her. She had called it forthand could disperse it by an effort of her will.I wrenched my mind free from the foolishphantasmagoria.

"I have good news," Natalie said in a lowvoice. Her tones were soft, musical; her mannercaressing. Happiness was in her whole bearing,tenderness in her eyes. Dread oppressed me."Herbert is now well again."

"He is not thoroughly restored even yet. Butthis evening he was able to receive a messagefrom me by the thought waves. He thinks youare plotting injury to him. His brain is not yetsufficiently strong to show how foolish this fugitivefancy is. Perhaps you would go to him.[159]He is troubling himself over this. You can sethis mind at rest."

CHAPTER XVI.
£5000 TO DETAIN THE SHIP.

Brande was asleep when I entered his cabin.His writing-table was covered with scraps of paperon which he had been scribbling. My name wason every scrap, preceded or followed by an unfinishedsentence, thus: "Marcel is thinking— WhenI was ill, Marcel thought— Marcel meansto—" All these I gathered up carefully and putin my pocket. Then I inoculated him with asstrong a solution of the drug I was using on himas was compatible with the safety of his life.Immediate danger being thus averted, I determinedto run no similar risk again.

For many days after this our voyage was monotonous.The deadly secret shared by Edith Metfordand myself drew us gradually nearer to eachother as time passed. She understood me, or, atleast, gave me the impression that she understoodme. Little by little that capricious mood which I[161]have heretofore described changed into one of enduringsympathy. With one trivial exception,this lasted until the end. But for her help mymind would hardly have stood the strain of eventswhich were now at hand, whose livid shadowswere projected in the rising fire of Brande's relentlesseyes.

Brande appeared to lose interest gradually inhis ship's company. He became daily more andmore absorbed in his own thoughts. Natalie wasever gentle, even tender. But I chafed at theimpalpable barrier which was always between us.Sometimes I thought that she would willinglyhave ranged herself on my side. Some hiddenpower held her back. As to the others, I began tolike the boy Halley. He was lovable, if notathletic. His devotion to Natalie, which neverwaned, did not now trouble me. It was only afriendship, and I welcomed it. Had it been anythingmore, it was not likely that he would haveprevailed against the will of a man who had donemurder for his mistress. We steamed through theMalay Archipelago, steering north, south, east,west, as if at haphazard, until only the navigatingofficers and the director of the Society knew howour course lay. We were searching for an island[162]about the bearings of which, it transpired, somemistake had been made. I do not know whetherthe great laureate ever sailed these seas. But Iknow that his glorious islands of flowers andislands of fruit, with all their luscious imagery,were here eclipsed by our own islands of foliage.The long lagoons, the deep blue bays, the glitteringparti-coloured fish that swam in visible shoalsdeep down amidst the submerged coral grovesover which we passed, the rich-toned sea-weedsand brilliant anemones, the yellow strands andthe steep cliffs, the riotous foliage that swept downfrom the sky to the blue of the sea; all thesenatural beauties seemed to cry to me with livingvoices—to me bound on a cruise of universaldeath.

After a long spell of apparently aimless butglorious steaming, a small island was sighted onour port bow. TheEsmeralda was steereddirectly for it, and we dropped anchor in a deepnatural harbour on its southern shore. Preparationsfor landing had been going on during theday, and everything was ready for quitting theship.

It was here that my first opportunity for makinguse of the gold I had brought with me occurred.[163]Anderson was called up by Brande, who made hima short complimentary speech, and finished it byordering his officer to return to England, wherefurther instructions would be given him. Thisorder was received in respectful silence. CaptainAnderson had been too liberally treated to demurif theEsmeralda had been ordered to the SouthPole.

Brande went below for a few minutes, and assoon as he had disappeared I went forward toAnderson and hailed him nervously, for therewas not a moment to spare.

"Anderson," I said hurriedly, "you must havenoticed that Mr. Brande is an eccentric—"

"I did not ask you to comment upon him,sir," I said sharply. "It is I who shall commentupon him, and it is for you to say whetheryou will undertake to earn my money by waitingin this harbour till I am ready to sail backwith you to England."

"If you have nothing more to say I must ask[164]you to leave the bridge, and if it were not thatyou are leaving the ship this moment, I wouldcaution you not to be impertinent to me again."

"Johnson, see Mr. Marcel's luggage over theside at once." To me he said shortly: "Quitmy ship, sir."

This trivial show of temper, which, indeed,had been provoked by my own hasty speech,turned my impatience into fury.

"Before I quit your ship," I said, with emphasis,"I will tell you how you yourself will quitit. You will do so between two policemen ifyou land in England, and between two marinesif you think of keeping on the high seas. Beforewe started, I sent a detailed statement of thisship, the nature of this nefarious voyage, andthe names of the passengers—or as many as Iknew—to a friend who will put it in properhands if anything befalls me. Go back withoutme and explain the loss of that French fishingfleet which was sunk the very night we sailed.It is an awkward coincidence to be explainedby a man who returns from an unknown voyagehaving lost his entire list of passengers. You[165]cannot be aware of what this man Brande intends,or you would at least stand by us as longas your own safety permitted. In any case youcannot safely return without us."

Anderson, after reflecting for a moment, apologisedfor his peremptory words, and agreed to standby night and day, with fires banked, until I, andall whom I could prevail upon to return withme, got back to his vessel. There was no dangerof his running short of coal. A ship that waspractically an ocean liner in coal ballast wouldbe a considerable time in burning out her owncargo. But he insisted on a large money paymentin advance. I had foolishly mentionedthat I had a little over £5000 in gold. Thishe claimed on the plea that "in duty to himself"—afavourite phrase of his—he could not acceptless. But I think his sense of duty was limitedonly by the fact that I had hardly anotherpenny in the world. Under the circumstanceshe might have waived all remuneration. Ashe was firm, and as I had no time to haggle,I agreed to give him the money. Our bargainwas only completed when Brande returned tothe deck.

It was strange that on an island like that[166]on which we were landing there should be aregular army of natives waiting to assist uswith our baggage, and the saddled horses whichwere in readiness were out of place in a primevalwilderness. An Englishman came forward, and,saluting Brande, said all was ready for the startto the hills. This explained the puzzle. Anadvance agent had made everything comfortable.For Brande, his sister, and Miss Metford thebest appointed horses were selected. I, asphysician to the chief, had one. The main bodyhad to make the journey on foot, which theydid by very easy stages, owing to the heat andthe primitive track which formed the only road.Their journey was not very long—perhaps tenmiles in a direct line.

Mounted as we were, it was often necessaryto stoop to escape the dense masses of parasiticgrowth which hung in green festoons from everybranch of the trees on either side. Under thisthick shade all the riotous vegetation of thetropics had fought for life and struggled for lightand air till the wealth of their luxuriant deathhad carpeted the underwood with a thick depositof steaming foliage. As we ascended theheight, every mile in distance brought changes[167]in the botanical growths, which might have passedunnoticed by the ordinary observer or ignorantpioneer. All were noted and commented on byBrande, whose eye was still as keen as his brainhad once been brilliant. His usual staid demeanourchanged suddenly. He romped ahead of uslike a schoolboy out for a holiday. Unlike aschoolboy, however, he was always seeking newitems of knowledge and conveying them to uswith unaffected pleasure. He was more like amaster who had found new ground and newmaterial for his class. Natalie gave herself uplike him to this enjoyment of the moment. EdithMetford and I partly caught the glamour of theirinfectious good-humour. But with both of usit was tempered by the knowledge of what wasin store.

When we arrived at our destination we dismounted,at Brande's request, and tied our horsesto convenient branches. He went forward, and,pushing aside the underwood with both hands,motioned to us to follow him till he stopped on aledge of rock which overtopped a hollow in themountain. The gorge below was the most beautifulglade I ever looked upon.

It was a paradise of foliage. Here and there a[168]fallen tree had formed a picturesque bridge overthe mountain stream which meandered through it.Far down below there was a waterfall, wheregorgeous tree-ferns rose in natural bowers, whileothers further still leant over the lotus-coveredstream, their giant leaves trailing in the slow-movingcurrent. Tangled masses of brackenrioted in wild abundance over a velvety green sod,overshadowed by waving magnolias. Through thetrees bright-plumaged birds were flitting frombranch to branch in songless flight, flashing theirbrilliant colours through the sunny leaves. Inplaces the water splashed over moss-grown rocksinto deep pools. Every drifting spray of cloudthrew over the dell a new light, deepening theshadows under the great ferns.

It was here in this glorious fairyland; here uponthis island, where before us no white foot hadever trod; whose nameless people represented thesimplest types of human existence, that HerbertBrande was to put his devilish experiment to theproof. I marvelled that he should have selected sofair a spot for so terrible a purpose. But thepapers which I found later amongst the man'seffects on theEsmeralda explain much that wasthen incomprehensible to me.[169]

Our camp was quickly formed, and our life wasoutwardly as happy as if we had been an ordinarycompany of tourists. I say outwardly, because,while we walked and climbed and collected specimensof botanical or geological interest, thereremained that latent dread which always followedus, and dominated the most frivolous of our people,on all of whom a new solemnity had fallen. Formyself, the fact that the hour of trial for my ownexperiment was daily drawing closer and moreinevitable, was sufficient to account for my constantand extreme anxiety.

Brande joined none of our excursions. He wasalways at work in his improvised laboratory. Theboxes of material which had been brought fromthe ship nearly filled it from floor to roof, andfrom the speed with which these were emptied, itwas evident that their contents had been systematisedbefore shipment. In place of the variedcollection of substances there grew up within theroom a cone of compound matter in which all wereblended. This cone was smaller, Brande admitted,than what he had intended. The supply of subordinatefulminates, though several times greaterthan what was required, proved to be considerablyshort. But as he had allowed himself a large[170]margin—everything being on a scale far exceedingthe minimum which his calculations had pointedto as sufficient—this deficiency did not cause himmore than a temporary annoyance. So he workedon.

When we had been three weeks on the island Ifound the suspense greater than I could bear. Thecrisis was at hand, and my heart failed me. Idetermined to make a last appeal to Natalie, to flywith me to the ship. Edith Metford would accompanyus. The rest might take the risk to whichthey had consented.

I found Natalie standing on the high rockwhence the most lovely view of the dell could beobtained, and as I approached her silently she wasnot aware of my presence until I laid my handon her shoulder.

"Natalie," I said wistfully, for the girl's eyeswere full of tears, "do you mind if I withdrawnow from this enterprise, in which I cannot beof the slightest use, and of which I most heartilydisapprove?"

"The Society would not allow you to withdraw.You cannot do so without its permission,and hope to live within a thousand miles ofit," she answered gravely.[171]

"I should not care to live within ten thousandmiles of it. I should try to get and keep theearth's diameter between myself and it."

She looked up with an expression of such painthat my heart smote me. "How about me?I cannot live without you now," she saidsoftly.

"Don't live without me. Come with me. Getrid of this infamous association of lunatics, whoseobject they themselves cannot really appreciate,and whose means are murder—"

But there she stopped me. "My brother couldfind me out at the uttermost ends of the earth ifI forsook him, and you know I do not mean toforsake him. For yourself—do not try to desert.It would make no difference. Do not believethat any consideration would cause me willinglyto give you a moment's pain, or that I shouldshrink from sacrificing myself to save you."With one of her small white hands she gentlypressed my head towards her. Her lips touchedmy forehead, and she whispered: "Do not leaveme. It will soon be over now. I—I—needyou."

As I was returning dejected after my fruitless[172]appeal to Natalie, I met Edith Metford, to whomI had unhappily mentioned my proposal for anescape.

"You told me you would go with her or withouther," she cried passionately. "It is shameful—unmanly."

"It is certainly both if I really said what youtell me. I was not myself at the moment, andmy tongue must have slandered me. I stay to theend. But you will go. Captain Anderson willreceive you—"

At this the girl stamped her foot passionatelyon the ground and burst into tears. Nor wouldshe permit any of the slight caresses I offered.[173]I thought her old caprices were returning. Sheflung my arm rudely from her and left me bewildered.

CHAPTER XVII.
"THIS EARTH SHALL DIE."

My memory does not serve me well in the sceneswhich immediately preceded the closing of thedrama in which Brande was chief actor. It isdoubtless the transcendental interest of the finalsituation which blunts my recollection of whatoccurred shortly before it. I did not abate onejot of my determination to fight my ventureout unflinching, but my actions were probablymore automatic than reasoned, as the time ofour last encounter approached. On the whole,the fight had been a fair one. Brande had usedhis advantage over me for his own purpose aslong as it remained with him. I used the advantageas soon as it passed to me for mine.The conditions had thus been equalised when,for the third and last time, I was to hear himaddress his Society.[175]

This time the man was weak in health. Hisvitality was ebbing fast, but his marvellous inspirationwas strong within him, and, supportedby it, he battled manfully with the diseasewhich I had manufactured for him. His lecture-roomwas the fairy glen; his canopy theheavens.

I cannot give the substance of this address,or any portion of it, verbatim as on formeroccasions, for I have not the manuscript. I doubtif Brande wrote out his last speech. Methodicalas were his habits it is probable that his finalwords were not premeditated. They burst fromhim in a delirium that could hardly have beenstudied. His fine frenzy could not well haveoriginated from considered sentences, althoughhis language, regarded as mere oratory, wasmagnificent. It was appalling in the lightthrough which I read it.

He stood alone upon the rock which overtoppedthe dell. We arranged ourselves in such groupsas suited our inclinations, upon some risingground below. The great trees waved overhead,low murmuring. The waterfall splashed drearily.Below, not a whisper was exchanged. Above,the man poured out his triumphant death-song[176]in sonorous periods. Below, great fear was uponall. Above, the madman exulted wildly.

At first his voice was weak. As he went onit gained strength and depth. He alluded tohis first address, in which he had hinted thatthe material Universe was not quite a success;to his second, in which he had boldly declaredit was an absolute failure. This, his third declaration,was to tell us that the remedy asfar as he, a mortal man, could apply it, wasready. The end was at hand. That night shouldsee the consummation of his life-work. To-morrow'ssun would rise—if it rose at all—onthe earth restored to space.

A shiver passed perceptibly over the people,prepared as they were for this long foreseenannouncement. Edith Metford, who stood byme on my left, slipped her hand into mine andpressed my fingers hard. Natalie Brande, on myright, did not move. Her eyes were dilatedand fixed on the speaker. The old clairvoyantelook was on her face. Her dark pupils wereblinded save to their inward light. She waseither unconscious or only partly conscious. Nowthat the hour had come, they who had believedtheir courage secure felt it wither. They, the[177]people with us, begged for a little longer timeto brace themselves for the great crisis—theplunge into an eternity from which there wouldbe no resurrection, neither of matter nor of mind.

"This night," said he, with culminating enthusiasm,"the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeouspalaces, the solemn temples, shall dissolve. Tothis great globe itself—this paltry speck of lessaccount in space than a dew-drop in an ocean—andall its sorrow and pain, its trials and temptations,all the pathos and bathos of our tragichuman farce, the end is near. The way has beenhard, and the journey overlong, and the burdenoften beyond man's strength. But that long-drawnsorrow now shall cease. The tears will bewiped away. The burden will fall from wearyshoulders. For the fulness of time has come.This earth shall die! And death is peace.

"I stand," he cried out in a strident voice, raisinghis arm aloft, "I may say, with one foot onsea and one on land, for I hold the elementalsecret of them both. And I swear by the livinggod—Science incarnate—that the suffering of thecenturies is over, that for this earth and all that[178]it contains, from this night and for ever,Timewill be no more!"

"Yes, too late. I warned you long ago. Areyou not yet ready? In two hours the disintegratingagent will enter on its work. No humanpower could stop it now. Not if every particleof the material I have compounded were separatedand scattered to the winds. Before I set my footupon this rock I applied the key which willrelease its inherent energy. I myself am powerless."

"Powerless! And if I had ten thousand timesthe power which I have called forth from theuniversal element, I would use it towards the issueI have forecast."

Thereupon he turned away. Doom sounded inhis words. The hand of Death laid clammyfingers on us. Edith Metford's strength failed atlast. It had been sorely tested. She sank intomy arms.[179]

"Courage, true heart, our time has come," Iwhispered. "We start for the steamer at once.The horses are ready." My arrangements hadbeen already made. My plan had been ascarefully matured as any ever made by Brandehimself.

"Three. One for you; another for Natalie;the third for myself. The rest must accept thefate they have selected."

The girl shuddered as she said, "But your interferencewith the formula? You are sure it willdestroy the effect?"

"I am certain that the particular result onwhich Brande calculates will not take place. Butshort of that, he has still enough explosive matterstored to cause an earthquake. We are not safewithin a radius of fifty miles. It will be a raceagainst time."

"Not voluntarily. You must think of someplan. Your brain is quick. We have not amoment to lose. Ah, there she is! Speak toher."

Natalie was crossing the open ground whichled from the glen to Brande's laboratory. She[180]did not observe us till Edith called to her. Thenshe approached hastily and embraced her friendwith visible emotion. Even to me she offered hercheek without reserve.

"Natalie," I said quickly, "there are three horsessaddled and waiting in the palm grove. TheEsmeralda is still lying in the harbour where welanded. You will come with us. Indeed, youhave no choice. You must come if I have tocarry you to your horse and tie you to the saddle.You will not force me to put that indignity uponyou. To the horses, then! Come!"

For answer she called her brother loudly by hisname. Brande immediately appeared at the doorof his laboratory, and when he perceived fromwhom the call had come he joined us.

"Herbert," said Natalie, "our friend is desertingus. He must still cling to the thought that yourpurpose may fail, and he expects to escape onhorseback from the fate of the earth. Reason withhim yet a little further."

"There is no time to reason," I interrupted."The horses are ready. This girl (pointing as Ispoke to Edith Metford) takes one, I another, andyou the third—whether your brother agrees ornot."[181]

"Surely you have not lost your reason? Haveyou forgotten the drop of water in the EnglishChannel?" Brande said quietly.

"Brande," I answered, "the sooner you induceyour sister to come with me the better; and thesooner you induce these maniac friends of yoursto clear out the better, for your enterprise willfail."

"It is as certain as the law of gravitation. Withmy own hand I mixed the ingredients according tothe formula."

Had Brande's heart stopped beating, his facecould not have become more distorted and livid.He moved close to me, and, glaring into my eyes,hissed out:

"I did," I answered recklessly. "I multipliedyour figures by ten where they struck me as insufficient."

"That night in the Red Sea, when Edith Metford,by accident, mixed morphia in your medicine.[182]The night I injected a subtle poison, which Ipicked up in India once, into your blood whileyou slept, thereby baffling some of the functionsof your extraordinary brain. The night when inyour sleep you stirred once, and had you stirredtwice, I would have killed you, then and there, asruthlessly as you would kill mankind now. Thenight I did kill your lieutenant, Rockingham, andthrow his body overboard to the sharks."

Brande did not speak for a moment. Then hesaid in a gentle, uncomplaining voice:

"So it now devolves on Grey. The end will bethe same. The Labrador expedition will succeedwhere I have failed." To Natalie: "You hadbetter go. There will only be an explosion. Theisland will probably disappear. That will beall."

I started as if struck in the face. Then I saidto Edith: "Be careful to keep to the track.Take the bay horse. I saddled him for myself,but you can ride him safely. Lose no time,and ride hard for the coast."[183]

"Arthur Marcel," she answered, so softly thatthe others did not hear, "your work in theworld is not yet over. There is the Labradorexpedition. Just now, when my strength failed,you whispered 'courage.' Be true to yourself!Half an hour is gone."

At length some glimmer of human feelingawoke in Brande. He said in a low, abstractedvoice: "My life fittingly ends now. To keep you,Natalie, would only be a vulgar murder." Theold will power seemed to come back to him. Helooked into the girl's eyes, and said slowly andsternly: "Go! I command it."

Without another word he turned away fromus. When he had disappeared into the laboratory,Natalie sighed, and said dreamily:

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FLIGHT.

I led the girls hurriedly to the horses. Whenthey were mounted on the ponies, I gave thebridle-reins of the bay horse—whose size andstrength were necessary for my extra weight—toEdith Metford, and asked her to wait forme until I announced Brande's probable failureto the people, and advised asauve qui peut.

Hard upon my warning there followed a strangemetamorphosis in the crowd, who, after the passingweakness at the lecture, had fallen back intostoical indifference, or it may have been despair.The possibility of escape galvanized them intothe desire for life. Cries of distress, and prayersfor help, filled the air. Men and women rushedabout like frightened sheep without concert orany sensible effort to escape, wasting in futilescrambles the short time remaining to them. For[185]another half hour had now passed, and in sixtyminutes the earthquake would take place.

"Follow us!" I shouted, as with my companionsI rode slowly through the camp. "Keep thetrack to the sea. I shall have the steamer'sboats ready for all who may reach the shorealive."

"The horses! Seize the horses!" rose in aloud shout, and the mob flung themselves uponus, as though three animals could carry all.

When I saw the rush, I called out: "Sit firm,Natalie; I am going to strike your horse." Sayingwhich I struck the pony a sharp blow with myriding-whip crossways on the flank. It boundedlike a deer, and then dashed forward down therough pathway.

"Now you, Edith!" I struck her pony in thesame way; but it only reared and nearly threwher. It could not get away. Already hands wereupon both bridle-reins. There was no help forit. I pulled out my revolver and fired once, twice,and thrice—for I missed the second shot—andthen the maddened animal sprang forward, releasedfrom the hands that held it.

It was now time to look to myself. I wasin the midst of a dozen maniacs mad with fear.[186]I kicked in my spurs desperately, and the baylashed out his hind feet. One hoof struck youngHalley on the forehead. He fell back dead, hisskull in fragments. But the others refused tobreak the circle. Then I emptied my weaponon them, and my horse plunged through theopening, followed by despairing execrations. Themoment I was clear, I returned my revolver toits case, and settled myself in the saddle, for,borne out of the proper path as I had been, therewas a stiff bank to leap before I could regainthe track to the shore. Owing to the darknessthe horse refused to leap, and I nearly fell overhis head. With a little scrambling I managedto get back into my seat, and then trotted alongthe bank for a hundred yards. At this pointthe bank disappeared, and there was nothing betweenme now and the open track to the sea.

Once upon the path, I put the bay to a gallop,and very soon overtook a man and a womanhurrying on. They were running hand in hand,the man a little in front dragging his companionon by force. It was plain to me that the womancould not hold out much longer. The man, ClaudeLureau, hailed me as I passed.

This blunt speech moved me, the more especiallyas the man was French. I could not allowhim to point the way of duty to me—an Englishman.

"Assist her up, then. Now, Mademoiselle, putyour arms round me and hold hard for yourlife. Lureau, you may hold my stirrup if youagree to loose it when you tire."

Hampered thus, I but slowly gained on Natalieand Edith, whose ponies had galloped a mile beforethey could be stopped.

"Forward, forward!" I shouted when withinhail. "Don't wait for me. Ride on at top speed.Lash your ponies with the bridle-reins."

We were all moving on now at an easy canter,for I could not go fast so long as Lureau heldmy stirrup, and the girls in front did not seemanxious to leave me far behind. Besides, thetangled underwood and overhanging creepersrendered hard riding both difficult and dangerous.The ponies were hard held, but notwithstanding[188]this my horse fell back gradually inthe race, and the hammering of the hoofs infront grew fainter. The breath of the runnerat my stirrup came in great sobs. He wassuffocating, but he struggled on a little longer.Then he threw up his hand and gasped:

"May God desert me if I do," I answered."And do you keep on as long as you can. Youmay reach the shore after all."

"Go on—save her!" he gasped, and then fromsheer exhaustion fell forward on his face.

"Sit still, Mademoiselle," I cried, pulling theFrench girl's arms round me in time to preventher from throwing herself purposely from thehorse. Then I drove in my spurs hard, and,being now released from Lureau's grasp, I overtookthe ponies.

For five minutes we all rode on abreast. Andthen the darkness began to break, and a strangedawn glimmered over the tree-tops, although thehour of midnight was still to come. A wild,red light, like that of a fiery sunset in a hazysummer evening, spread over the night sky. The[189]quivering stars grew pale. Constellation afterconstellation, they were blotted out until thewhole arc of heaven was a dull red glare. Thehorses were dismayed by this strange phenomenon,and dashed the froth from their foaming muzzlesas they galloped now without stress of spur attheir best speed. Birds that could not singfound voice, and chattered and shrieked as theydashed from tree to tree in aimless flight.Enormous bats hurtled in the air, blinded bythe unusual light. From the dense undergrowthstrange denizens of the woods, disturbed in theirnightly prowl, leaped forth and scurried squealingbetween the galloping hoofs, reckless ofanything save their own fear. Everything thatwas alive upon the island was in motion, andfear was the motor of them all.

So far, we saw no natives. Their absence didnot surprise me, for I had no time for thought.It was explained later.

Edith Metford's pony soon became unmanageablein its fright. I unbuckled one spur andgave it to her, directing her to hold it in herhand, for of course she could not strap it to herboot, and drive it into the animal when he[190]swerved. She took the spur, and as her pony,in one of his side leaps, nearly bounded off thepath, she struck him hard on the ribs. He boltedand flew on far ahead of us.

But that the rays were red, it would now havebeen as bright as day. We were chasing ourshadows, so the light must be directly behindus. Mademoiselle Véret first noticed this, anddrew my attention to it. I looked back, andmy heart sank at the sight. In the terror itinspired, I regretted having burthened myselfwith the girl I had sworn to save.

"It is the end of the world," Mademoiselle Véretsaid with a shudder. She clung closer to me.I could feel her warm breath upon my cheek.The unmanly regret, which for a moment hadtouched me, passed.

The ponies now seemed to find out that theirsafety lay in galloping straight on, rather thanin scared leaps from side to side. They stretchedthemselves like race horses, and gave my bay,with his double burthen, a strong lead. Thepace became terrible considering the nature ofthe ground we covered.[191]

At last the harbour came in view. But myhorse, I knew, could not last another mile, andthe shore was still distant two or three. I spurredhim hard and drew nearly level with the ponies,so that my voice could be heard by both theirriders.

"Ride on," I shouted, "and hail the steamer,so that there may be no delay when I comeup. This horse is blown, and will not standthe pace. I am going to ease him. You willgo on board at once, and send the boat backfor us." Then I eased the bay, but in spite ofthis I immediately overtook Edith Metford, whohad pulled up.

My reproaches she cut short by saying, "Ifthat horse does the distance at all it will be bygetting a lead all the way. And I am goingto give it to him." So we started together.

Natalie was waiting for us a little further on.I spoke to her, but she did not answer. Fromthe moment that Brande had commanded herto accompany us, her manner had remainedabsolutely passive. What I ordered, she obeyed.That was all. Instead of being alarmed by thehorrors of the ride, she did not seem to be eveninterested. I had not leisure, however, to reflect[192]on this. For the first time in the whole raceshe spoke to us.

"Would it not be better if Edith rode on?"she said. "I can take her place. It seems uselessto sacrifice her. It does not matter to me. Icannot now be afraid."

The ground under us began to heave. Wholeacres of it swayed disjointed. We were gallopingon oscillating fragments, which trembled beneathus like floating logs under boys at play. Tojump these cracks—sometimes an upward bank,sometimes a deep drop, in addition to the widthof the seam, had to be taken—pumped out thefailing horses, and the hope that was left to usdisappeared utterly.

The glare of the red light behind waxed fiercerstill, and a low rumbling as of distant thunderbegan to mutter round us. The air became difficultto breathe. It was no longer air, but amephitic stench that choked us with disgustingfumes. Then a great shock shook the land, andright in front of us a seam opened that musthave been fully fifteen feet in width. Nataliewas the first to see it. She observed it too lateto stop.[193]

In the same mechanical way as she had actedbefore, she settled herself in the saddle, struck thepony with her hand, and raced him at the chasm.He cleared it with little to spare. Edith's took itnext with less. Then my turn came. Before Icould shake up my tired horse, Mademoiselle Véretsaid quickly:

"Monsieur has done enough. He will now permitme to alight. This time the horse cannotjump over with both."

"He shall jump over with both, Mademoiselle, orhe shall jump in," I answered. "Don't look downwhen we are crossing."

The horse just got over, but he came to hisknees, and we fell forward over his shoulder. Thegirl's head struck full on a slab of rock, and a faintmoan was all that told me she was alive as I arosehalf stunned to my feet. My first thought was forthe horse, for on him all depended. He was uninjured,apparently, but hardly able to stand fromthe shock and the stress of fatigue.

Edith Metford had dismounted and caught him;she was holding the bridle in her left hand, andwinced as if in pain when I accidentally brushedagainst her right shoulder. I tied the horse to a[194]young palm, and begged the girl to ride on. Sheobeyed me reluctantly. Natalie had to assist herto remount, so she must have been injured. WhenI saw her safely in her saddle, I ran back to MademoiselleVéret.

The chasm was fast widening. From either sidegreat fragments were breaking off and falling inwith a roar of loose rocks crashing together, tillfar down the sound was dulled into a hollow boom.This ended in low guttural, which growled up froman abysmal depth. Mademoiselle Véret, or herdead body, lay now on the very edge of the seam,and I had to harden my heart before I could bringmyself to venture close to it. But I had givenmy word, and there were no conditions in thepromise when I made it.

I was spared the ordeal. Just as I steppedforward, the slab of rock on which the girl laybroke off in front of me, and, tipping up, overturneditself into the chasm. Far below I couldsee the shimmer of the girl's dress as her bodywent plunging down into that awful pit. Andremembering her generous courage and offer ofself-sacrifice, I felt tears rise in my eyes. Butthere was no time for tears.[195]

I leaped on the bay, and got him into somethingapproaching a gallop, shouting at the othersto keep on, for they were now returning. WhenI came up with them, Edith Metford said with ashiver:

We gained the shore at last; and our presencethere produced the explanation of the absence ofthe natives on the pathway to the sea. They werethere before us. Lying prostrate on the beach inhundreds, they raised their bodies partly from thesands, like a resurrection of the already dead, andthere then rang out upon the night air a soundsuch as my ears had never before heard in mylife, such as, I pray God, they may never listento again. I do not know what that dreadfuldeath-wail meant in words, only that it touchedthe lowest depths of human horror. All along thebeach that fearful chorus of the damned wailedforth, and echoed back from rock and cliff. Thecry for mercy could not be mistaken—the supplicationblended with despair. They were prayingto us—their evil spirits, for this wrong had beenwrought them by our advent, if not by ourselves.[196]

The steamer was still in her berth; her headwas pointed seawards. Loud orders rang over thewater. The roar of the chain running out throughthe hawse-hole and the heavy splash could not bemistaken. Anderson had slipped his cable. Thenthe chime of the telegraph on the bridge wasfollowed almost instantly by the first smashingstroke of the propeller.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE CATASTROPHE.

TheEsmeralda was putting out to sea when Ithought of a last expedient to draw the attentionof her captain. Filling my revolver withcartridges which I had loose in my pockets, Ifired all the chambers as fast as I could snap thetrigger.

My signals were heard, and Anderson provedtrue to his bargain. He immediately reversedhis engines, and, when he had backed in as closeas he thought safe, sent a boat ashore for us.We got into it without any obstruction from thecowering natives, who only shrank from us inhorror, now that their prayers had failed to moveus. The moment our boat was made fast to thesteamer's davit ropes and we were pulled outof the water, "full speed ahead" was rung fromthe bridge. We were raised to the deck whilethe vessel was getting up speed.[198]

I crawled up the ladder to the bridge feebly,for I was becoming stiff from the bruises of thefall from my horse. Anderson received me coldly,and listened indifferently to my thanks. Anagreement such as ours hardly prepared me forhis loyalty.

"Oh, as to that," he interrupted, "when I makea bargain my word is my bond. On this occasionI am inclined to think the indenture willbe a final one."

His bargain was a hard one, but, having madeit, he abided faithfully by its conditions. Hewas honest, therefore, in his own way.

"We may make six or seven knots. But whatis the good of that? There will be an earthquakeon that island on a liberal scale—on such a scalethat this ship would have very little chance inthe wave that will follow us if we were fiftymiles at sea."

Anderson here looked at me contemptuously,and, with an air of sarcastic admiration, hesaid:[199]

"Pshaw! don't take offence at trifles at a timelike this," I said testily. "If you knew asmuch about that earthquake as I do, you wouldbe in no humour for bandying phrases."

"Might I ask how much you do know aboutit? You could not have foreseen the trouble moreclearly if you had made it yourself."

"I did not make it myself, but I know themeans which the man who did employed, andbut for me that earthquake would have wreckedthis earth."

"You will now go below, sir. You are done up.Roberts will take you to the doctor."

"I am not done up, and I mean to see it out,"I retorted doggedly. My nervous system wascompletely unhinged, and a fit of stupid obstinacycame on me which rendered any interference withmy actions intolerable.

"Then you cannot see it out upon my bridge,"Anderson said. The determined tone in whichhe spoke only added to my impotent wrath.

"Very well, I will return to the deck, and if[200]any of your men should attempt to interfere withme he will do so at his peril." With that, Islung my revolver round so as to have it readyto my hand. I was beside myself. My conductwas already bad enough, but I made it worsebefore I left the bridge.

"And if you, Anderson, disobey my orders—myorders, do you hear?—an explosion suchas took place in the middle of the Englishchannel shall take place in the middle of thisship."

"For God's sake leave the bridge. I want mywits about me, and I have no intention of earninganother exhibition of your devilries."

"Then be careful not to trouble me again."Thus after having passed through much dangerwith a spirit not unbecoming—as I hope—anEnglish gentleman, I acted, when the worst waspassed, like a peevish schoolboy. I am ashamedof my conduct in this small matter, and trust itwill pass without much notice in the narrativeof events of greater moment.

On deck, Natalie Brande, Edith Metford, andPercival were standing together, their eyes fixedon the island. Edith's face was deathly white,even in the ruddy glow which was now over[201]land and sea. When I saw her pallor, my eviltemper passed away.

"It would be impossible for you to be quitewell," I said to her anxiously; "but has anythinghappened since I left you? You are very pale."

"Oh no," she answered, "I'm all right; a littlefaint after that ride. I shall be better soon."

Natalie turned her weird eyes on me and saidin the hollow voice we had heard once before—whenshe spoke to us on the island—"That isher way of telling you that your horse brokeher right arm when she caught him for you.She held him, you remember, with her left hand.The doctor has set the limb. She will not sufferlong."

"Heaven help us, this awful night," Edithcried. "How do you know that, Natalie?"

"I know much now, but I shall know moresoon." After this she would not speak again.

With every pound of steam on that theEsmeralda's boilers would bear without bursting,we were now plunging through the great rollersof the Arafura Sea. Everything had indeed beendone to put the vessel in trim. She was clearedfor action, so to speak. And a gallant fight shemade when the issue was knit. When the hour[202]of midnight must be near at hand, I looked atmy watch. It was one minute to twelve o'clock.

The stupendous corona of flame which hungover the island was pierced by long lines of smokethat stretched far above the glare and clutchedwith sooty fingers at the stars, now fitfully comingback to view at our distance. The rumbling ofinternal thunder waxed louder.

Fearful peals rent the atmosphere. Vasttongues of flame protruded heavenward. Theelements must be melting in that fervent heat.The blazing bowels of the earth were pouringforth.

A reverberation thundered out which shookthe solid earth, and a roaring hell-breath of flameand smoke belched up so awful in its dreadmagnificence that every man who saw it andlived to tell his story might justly have claimedto have seen perdition. In that hurricane of incandescentmatter the island was blotted out forever from the map of this world.

Notwithstanding the speed of theEsmeraldashe was a sloth when compared with the speed[203]of the wave from such an earthquake. Fromthe glare of the illumination to perfect darknessthe contrast was sudden and extreme. But theblackness of the ocean was soon whitened bythe snowy plumes of the avalanche of waterwhich was now racing us, far astern as yet, butgaining fast. I, who had no business aboutthe ship requiring my presence in any specialpart, decided to wait on deck and lash myselfto the forward, which would be practically thelee-side of a deckhouse. Edith Metford weprevailed on to go below, that she might notrun the risk of further injury to her fracturedarm. As she left us she whispered to me, "SoNatalie will be with you at the end, and I—"a sob stopped her. And it came into my mindat that moment that this girl had acted verynobly, and that I had hardly appreciated herand all that she had done for me.

Natalie refused to leave the deck. I lashed hersecurely beside me. Together we awaited the end.When the roar of the following wave came close,so close that the voices of the officers of the shipcould be no longer heard, Natalie spoke. Thehollow sound was no longer in her voice. Her ownsoft sweet tones had come back.[204]

"Then we have little time, and I have somethingwhich I must say, which you must promise me toremember when—when—I am no longer with you."

"Yes, you deserve that and more. I will bewith you while I live, but that will not be forlong."

I was about to interrupt her when she put hersoft little hand upon my lips and said:

"Listen, there is very little time. It is all amistake. I mean Herbert was wrong. He mightas well have let me have my earthly span ofhappiness or folly—call it what you will."

"Yes, but I see it too late, I did not know it until—untilI was dead. Hush!" Again I tried tointerrupt her, for I thought her mind was wandering."I died psychically with Herbert. That waswhen we first saw the light on the island. Sincethen I have lived mechanically, but it has onlybeen life in so low a form that I do not now knowwhat has happened between that time and this.[205]And I could not now speak as I am speaking saveby a will power which is costing me very dear.But it is the only voice you could hear. I do nottherefore count the cost. My brother's brain so farovermatched my own that it first absorbed andfinally destroyed my mental vitality. This influenceremoved, I am a rudderless ship at sea—bound toperish."

"May his torments endure for ever. May thenethermost pit of hell receive him!" I said with agroan of agony.

But Natalie said: "Hush! I might havelingered on a little longer, but I chose to concentratethe vital force which would have lastedme a few more senile years into the minutesnecessary for this message from me to you—amessage I could not have given you if he were notdead. And I am dying so that you may hear it.Dying! My God! I am already dead."

She seemed to struggle against some force thatbattled with her, and the roar of many waters waslouder around us before she was able to speakagain.

"Bend lower, Arthur; my strength is failing,and I have not yet said that for which I am here.Lower still.[206]

"I said it is all a mistake—a hideous mistake.Existence as we know it is ephemeral. Sufferingis ephemeral. There is nothing everlasting butlove. There is nothing eternal but mind. Yourmind is mine. Your love is mine. Your humanlife may belong to whomsoever you will it. Itought to belong to that brave girl below. I donot grudge it to her, for I haveyou. We twoshall be together through the ages—for ever andfor ever. Heart of my heart, you have strivenmanfully and well, and if you did not altogethersucceed in saving my flesh from premature corruption,be satisfied in that you have my soul.Ah!"

She pressed her hands to her head as if indreadful pain. When she spoke again her voicecame in short gasps.

"My brain is reeling. I do not know what Iam saying," she cried, distraught. "I do not knowwhether I am saying what is true or only whatI imagine to be true. I know nothing but this.I was mesmerised. I have been so for two years.But for that I would have been happy in yourlove—for I was a woman before this hideousinfluence benumbed me. They told me it wasonly a fool's paradise that I missed. But I only[207]know that I have missed it. Missed it—and thedarkness of death is upon me."

She ceased to speak. A shudder convulsed her,and then her head sank gently on my shoulder.

At that moment the great wave broke over thevessel, whirling her helpless like a cork on theripples of a mill pond; lashing her with mightystrokes; sweeping in giant cataracts from stern tostem; smashing, tearing everything; deluging herwith hissing torrents; crushing her with avalanchesof raging foam. Then the ocean tornado passedon and left theEsmeralda behind, with half thecrew disabled and many lost, her decks a mass ofwreckage, her masts gone. The crippled shipbarely floated. When the last torrent of spraypassed, and I was able to look to Natalie, her headhad drooped down on her breast. I raised her facegently and looked into her wide open eyes.

CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION.

Taking up my girl's body in my arms, I stumbledover the wreck-encumbered deck, and bore it tothe state-room she had occupied on the outwardvoyage. Percival was too busy attending towounded sailors to be interrupted. His services, Iknew, were useless now, but I wanted him to refuteor corroborate a conviction which my ownmedical knowledge had forced upon me. Thethought was so repellent, I clung to any hopewhich might lead to its dispersion. I waited alonewith my dead.

Percival came after an hour, which seemed to mean eternity. He stammered out some incoherentwords of sympathy as soon as he looked in myface. But this was not the purpose for which Ihad detached him from his pressing duties elsewhere.I made a gesture towards the dead girl.[209]He attended to it immediately. I watched closelyand took care that the light should be on his face,so that I might read his eyes rather than listen tohis words.

"She has fainted!" he exclaimed, as he approachedthe rigid figure. I said nothing untilhe turned and faced me. Then I read his eyes.He said slowly: "You are aware, Marcel, that—thatshe is dead?"

"No; do not think," I interrupted. "There arethings in this voyage which will not bear to bethought of. I thank you for coming so soon.You will forgive me for troubling you when youhave so much to do elsewhere. And now leave usalone. I mean, leave me alone."

I was happily unconscious at the time, and sowas spared that scene. Edith Metford, weak and[210]suffering as she was, went through it all. She hastold me nothing about it, save that it was done.More than that I could not bear. And I haveborne much.

The voyage home was a dreary episode. Thereis little more to tell, and it must be told quickly.Percival was kind, but it distressed me to find thathe now plainly regarded me as weak-minded fromthe stress of my trouble. Once, in the extremityof my misery, I began a relation of my adventuresto him, for I wanted his help. The look upon hisface was enough for me. I did not make the samemistake again.

To Anderson I made amends for my extravagantdisplay of temper. He received me morekindly than I expected. I no longer thought ofthe money that had passed between us. And, todo him tardy justice, I do not think he thought ofit either. At least he did not offer any of it back.His scruples, I presume, were conscientious. Indeed,I was no longer worth a man's enmity.Sympathy was now the only indignity that couldbe put upon me. And Anderson did not trespassin that direction. My misery was, I thought, complete.[211]One note must still be struck in that longdiscord of despair.

We were steaming along the southern coast ofJava. For many hours the rugged cliffs and giantrocks which fence the island against the onslaughtof the Indian Ocean had passed before us as inreview, and we—Edith Metford and I—sat on thedeck silently, with many thoughts in common, butwithout the interchange of a spoken word. Thestern, forbidding aspect of that iron coast increasedthe gloom which had settled on my brain.Its ramparts of lonely sea-drenched crags depressedme below the mental zero that was nowhabitual with me. The sun went down in a redglare, which moved me not. The short twilightpassed quickly, but I noticed nothing. Thennight came. The restless sea disappeared indarkness. The grand march past of thesilent stars began. But I neither knew norcared.

"Arthur, for God's sake rouse yourself! Youare brooding a great deal too much. It willdestroy you."[212]

"No, nor ever shall. I have fought my lastfight. The victory may go to whosoever desiresit."

On this she wept. I could not bear that she shouldsuffer from my misery, and so, guarding carefullyher injured arm, I drew her close to me. And then,out of the darkness of the night, far over the solitudeof the sea, there came to us the sound of a voice.That voice was a woman's wail. The girl besideme shuddered and drew back. I did notask her if she had heard. I knew she hadheard.

We arose and stood apart without any explanation.From that moment a caress would havebeen a sacrilege. I did not hear that weird soundagain, nor aught else for an hour or more savethe bursting of the breakers on the crags ofJava.

I kept no record of the commonplaces of our[213]voyage thereafter. It only remains for me to saythat I arrived in England broken in health andbankrupt in fortune. Brande left no money.His formula for the transmutation of metalsis unintelligible to me. I can make no useof it.

Edith Metford remains my friend. To partutterly after what we have undergone together isbeyond our strength. But between us there is anameless shadow, reminiscent of that awful nightin the Arafura Sea, when death came very near tous. And in my ears there is always the echo ofthat voice which I heard by the shores of Javawhen the misty borderland between life and deathseemed clear.

My story is told. I cannot prove its truth, forthere is much in it to which I am the only livingwitness. I cannot prove whether Herbert Brandewas a scientific magician possessed ofall thepowers he claimed, or merely a mad physicist incharge of a new and terrible explosive; norwhether Edward Grey ever started for Labrador.The burthen of the proof of this last must beborne by others—unless it be left to Grey[214]himself to show whether my evidence is false ortrue. If it be left to him, a few years will decidethe issue.

Times.—The story is written with considerable liveliness, the scientificjargon is sufficiently perplexing, and the characters are sketched withsome humour.

Chronicle.—A strange, weird, mysterious story that holds the readerspell-bound, from the first page to the last.

Athenæum.—Mr. Cromie's Utopia is charming, and the quasi-scientificdetail of the expedition is given with so much integrity that we hardlywonder at the marvellous results accomplished.

Truth.—A very clever description of a flight through space to Mars ... thebook is extremely interesting and suggestive; especially,perhaps, where it attacks the theories of Mr. George and "LookingBackwards."

Court Journal.—Mr. Robert Cromie's remarkably clever and entertainingvolume is told with much of the vivid fancy of a Jules Verne—withremarkable picturesqueness, and the experiences of mortals in Marsare described with considerable humour.

Review of Reviews.—An unquestionably interesting story. Theadventures of the hero and his friends are in no small degree thrilling.

Glasgow Herald.—The imagination is brilliant, the scientific detailsare skilfully worked in, the dialogues and descriptions are lively andinteresting, and the pictures of Martian life and scenery are remarkable—adecidedly clever book.

Army and Navy Gazette.—A capital little story of military life, fullof bright word-painting.

Literary World.—This exciting chapter in the history of the futureis written with a great deal of enthusiasm, and a great deal of commonsense to boot.

Irish Times.—The plot is well conceived, and the interest throughoutis well maintained.

Belfast Northern Whig.—The author displays much constructive anddescriptive power. He is most felicitous in his word pictures of scenery,and imparts a fascinating dash to his military scenes.

Belfast Morning News.—Deeply interesting without being sensational,this charming story of love and war is sure to appeal with forceto a large circle of readers.

Liverpool Daily Post.—A well-told story of life and love in troubloustimes in India.

Athenæum.—A bright, compact, and highly readable narrative, fullof incidents, and illustrated with clever little vignettes.

Newcastle Chronicle.—A really charming book—deeply interesting,and full of capital drawings.

Scotsman.—A very well-written narrative of a trip, and as such, aboutas good as it could be.

Leeds Mercury.—The author relies on vivid description, pointed andracy pictures, and lively and striking incident for interest.

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Movatterモバイル変換

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Crack of Doom

THE CRACK OF DOOM

BY
ROBERT CROMIE

PREFACE

CONTENTS

THE CRACK OF DOOM

CHAPTER I.
THE UNIVERSE A MISTAKE!

CHAPTER II.
A STRANGE EXPERIMENT.

CHAPTER III.
"IT IS GOOD TO BE ALIVE."

CHAPTER IV.
GEORGE DELANY—DECEASED.

CHAPTER V.
THE MURDER CLUB.

CHAPTER VI.
A TELEPATHIC TELEGRAM.

CHAPTER VII.
GUILTY!

CHAPTER VIII.
THE WOKING MYSTERY.

CHAPTER IX.
CUI BONO?

CHAPTER X.
FORCE—A REMEDY.

CHAPTER XI.
MORITURI TE SALUTANT.

CHAPTER XII.
"NO DEATH—SAVE IN LIFE."

CHAPTER XIII.
MISS METFORD'S PLAN.

CHAPTER XIV.
ROCKINGHAM TO THE SHARKS.

CHAPTER XV.
"IF NOT TOO LATE!"

CHAPTER XVI.
£5000 TO DETAIN THE SHIP.

CHAPTER XVII.
"THIS EARTH SHALL DIE."

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FLIGHT.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE CATASTROPHE.

CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

CHAP.	PAGE
I.	THE UNIVERSE A MISTAKE!	1
II.	A STRANGE EXPERIMENT	10
III.	"IT IS GOOD TO BE ALIVE"	21
IV.	GEORGE DELANY—DECEASED	32
V.	THE MURDER CLUB	41
VI.	A TELEPATHIC TELEGRAM	51
VII.	GUILTY!	62
VIII.	THE WOKING MYSTERY	72
IX.	CUI BONO?	81
X.	FORCE—A REMEDY	93
XI.	MORITURI TE SALUTANT	104
XII.	"NO DEATH—SAVE IN LIFE"	111
XIII.	MISS METFORD'S PLAN	123
XIV.	ROCKINGHAM TO THE SHARKS	133
XV.	"IF NOT TOO LATE"	146
XVI.	£5000 TO DETAIN THE SHIP	160
XVII.	"THIS EARTH SHALL DIE"	174
XVIII.	THE FLIGHT	184
XIX.	THE CATASTROPHE	197
XX.	CONCLUSION	208

Movatterモバイル変換

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Crack of Doom

THE CRACK OF DOOM

BYROBERT CROMIE

PREFACE

CONTENTS

THE CRACK OF DOOM

CHAPTER I.THE UNIVERSE A MISTAKE!

CHAPTER II.A STRANGE EXPERIMENT.

CHAPTER III."IT IS GOOD TO BE ALIVE."

CHAPTER IV.GEORGE DELANY—DECEASED.

CHAPTER V.THE MURDER CLUB.

CHAPTER VI.A TELEPATHIC TELEGRAM.

CHAPTER VII.GUILTY!

CHAPTER VIII.THE WOKING MYSTERY.

CHAPTER IX.CUI BONO?

CHAPTER X.FORCE—A REMEDY.

CHAPTER XI.MORITURI TE SALUTANT.

CHAPTER XII."NO DEATH—SAVE IN LIFE."

CHAPTER XIII.MISS METFORD'S PLAN.

CHAPTER XIV.ROCKINGHAM TO THE SHARKS.

CHAPTER XV."IF NOT TOO LATE!"

CHAPTER XVI.£5000 TO DETAIN THE SHIP.

CHAPTER XVII."THIS EARTH SHALL DIE."

CHAPTER XVIII.THE FLIGHT.

CHAPTER XIX.THE CATASTROPHE.

CHAPTER XX.CONCLUSION.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

BY
ROBERT CROMIE

CHAPTER I.
THE UNIVERSE A MISTAKE!

CHAPTER II.
A STRANGE EXPERIMENT.

CHAPTER III.
"IT IS GOOD TO BE ALIVE."

CHAPTER IV.
GEORGE DELANY—DECEASED.

CHAPTER V.
THE MURDER CLUB.

CHAPTER VI.
A TELEPATHIC TELEGRAM.

CHAPTER VII.
GUILTY!

CHAPTER VIII.
THE WOKING MYSTERY.

CHAPTER IX.
CUI BONO?

CHAPTER X.
FORCE—A REMEDY.

CHAPTER XI.
MORITURI TE SALUTANT.

CHAPTER XII.
"NO DEATH—SAVE IN LIFE."

CHAPTER XIII.
MISS METFORD'S PLAN.

CHAPTER XIV.
ROCKINGHAM TO THE SHARKS.

CHAPTER XV.
"IF NOT TOO LATE!"

CHAPTER XVI.
£5000 TO DETAIN THE SHIP.

CHAPTER XVII.
"THIS EARTH SHALL DIE."

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FLIGHT.

CHAPTER XIX.
THE CATASTROPHE.

CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION.