THE CRACK OF DOOM

 BY

 ROBERT CROMIE _Author of "A Plunge into Space, " etc. _

 _SECOND EDITION_

 LONDON DIGBY, LONG & CO. 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E. C. 1895

PREFACE

The rough notes from which this narrative has been constructed weregiven to me by the man who tells the story. For obvious reasons I havealtered the names of the principals, and I hereby pass on the assurancewhich I have received, that the originals of such as are left alive canbe found if their discovery be thought desirable. This alteration ofnames, the piecing together of somewhat disconnected and sometimesnearly indecipherable memoranda, and the reduction of the mass toconsecutive form, are all that has been required of me or would havebeen permitted to me. The expedition to Labrador mentioned by thenarrator has not returned, nor has it ever been definitely traced. Hedoes not undertake to prove that it ever set out. But he avers that allwhich is hereafter set down is truly told, and he leaves it to mankindto accept the warning which it has fallen to him to convey, or await theproof of its sincerity which he believes the end of the century willproduce. 

 ROBERT CROMIE. 

BELFAST, _May, 1895_. 

CONTENTS

 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

THE CRACK OF DOOM

CHAPTER I. 

THE UNIVERSE A MISTAKE!

"The Universe is a mistake!"

Thus spake Herbert Brande, a passenger on the _Majestic_, making forQueenstown Harbour, one evening early in the past year. Foolish as thewords may seem, they were partly influential in leading to my terribleassociation with him, and all that is described in this book. 

Brande was standing beside me on the starboard side of the vessel. Wehad been discussing a current astronomical essay, as we watched the hazyblue line of the Irish coast rise on the horizon. This conversation wasinterrupted by Brande, who said, impatiently:

"Why tell us of stars distant so far from this insignificant littleworld of ours--so insignificant that even its own inhabitants speakdisrespectfully of it--that it would take hundreds of years to telegraphto some of them, thousands to others, and millions to the rest? Whylimit oneself to a mere million of years for a dramatic illustration, when there is a star in space distant so far from us that if a telegramleft the earth for it this very night, and maintained for ever itsinitial velocity, it would never reach that star?"

He said this without any apparent effort after rhetorical effect; butthe suddenness with which he had presented a very obvious truism in afresh light to me made the conception of the vastness of spaceabsolutely oppressive. In the hope of changing the subject I replied:

"Nothing is gained by dwelling on these scientific speculations. Themind is only bewildered. The Universe is inexplicable. "

"The Universe!" he exclaimed. "That is easily explained. The Universe isa mistake!"

"The greatest mistake of the century, I suppose, " I added, somewhatannoyed, for I thought Brande was laughing at me. 

"Say, of Time, and I agree with you, " he replied, careless of myastonishment. 

I did not answer him for some moments. 

This man Brande was young in years, but middle-aged in the expression ofhis pale, intellectual face, and old--if age be synonymous withknowledge--in his ideas. His knowledge, indeed, was so exhaustive thatthe scientific pleasantries to which he was prone could always bejustified, dialectically at least, by him when he was contradicted. Those who knew him well did not argue with him. I was always stumblinginto intellectual pitfalls, for I had only known him since the steamerleft New York. 

As to myself, there is little to be told. My history prior to myacquaintance with Brande was commonplace. I was merely an active, athletic Englishman, Arthur Marcel by name. I had studied medicine, andwas a doctor in all but the degree. This certificate had been dispensedwith owing to an unexpected legacy, on receipt of which I determined todevote it to the furtherance of my own amusement. In the pursuit of thisobject, I had visited many lands and had become familiar with most ofthe beaten tracks of travel. I was returning to England after an absenceof three years spent in aimless roaming. My age was thirty-one years, and my salient characteristic at the time was to hold fast by anythingthat interested me, until my humour changed. Brande's conversationalvagaries had amused me on the voyage. His extraordinary comment on theUniverse decided me to cement our shipboard acquaintance before reachingport. 

"That explanation of yours, " I said, lighting a fresh cigar, andreturning to a subject which I had so recently tried to shelve, "isn'tit rather vague?"

"For the present it must serve, " he answered absently. 

To force him into admitting that his phrase was only a thoughtlessexclamation, or induce him to defend it, I said:

"It does not serve any reasonable purpose. It adds nothing to knowledge. As it stands, it is neither academic nor practical. "

Brande looked at me earnestly for a moment, and then said gravely:

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

"What do you call this club of yours?" I asked. 

"We do not call it a club. We call it a Society--the _Cui Bono_Society, " he answered coldly. 

"I like the name, " I returned. "It is suggestive. It may meananything--or nothing. "

"You will learn later that the Society means something; a good deal, infact. "

This was said in the dry, unemotional tone which I afterwards found wasthe only sign of displeasure Brande ever permitted himself to show. Hisarrangements for going on shore at Queenstown had been made early in theday, but he left me to look for his sister, of whom I had seen verylittle on the voyage. The weather had been rough, and as she was not agood sailor, I had only had a rare glimpse of a very dark and handsomegirl, whose society possessed for me a strange attraction, although wewere then almost strangers. Indeed, I regretted keenly, as the time ofour separation approached, having registered my luggage (consistinglargely of curios and mementoes of my travels, of which I was verycareful) for Liverpool. My own time was valueless, and it would havebeen more agreeable to me to continue the journey with the Brandes, nomatter where they went. 

There was a choppy sea on when we reached the entrance to the harbour, so the _Majestic_ steamed in between the Carlisle and Camden forts, andon to the man-of-war roads, where the tender met us. By this time, Brande and his sister were ready to go on shore; but as there was aheavy mail to be transhipped, we had still an hour at our disposal. Forsome time we paced the deck, exchanging commonplaces on the voyage andconfidences as to our future plans. It was almost dark, but not darkenough to prevent us from seeing those wonderfully green hills whichlandlock the harbour. To me the verdant woods and hills were delightfulafter the brown plains and interminable prairies on which I had spentmany months. As the lights of Queenstown began to speck the slowlygathering gloom, Miss Brande asked me to point out Rostellan Castle. Itcould not be seen from the vessel, but the familiar legend was easilyrecalled, and this led us to talk about Irish tradition with its weirdromance and never failing pathos. This interested her. Freed now fromthe lassitude of sea-sickness, the girl became more fascinating to meevery moment. Everything she said was worth listening to, apart from thecharming manner in which it was said. 

To declare that she was an extremely pretty girl would not convey thestrange, almost unearthly, beauty of her face--as intellectual as herbrother's--and of the charm of her slight but exquisitely mouldedfigure. In her dark eyes there was a sympathy, a compassion, that wasnew to me. It thrilled me with an emotion different from anything thatmy frankly happy, but hitherto wholly selfish life had known. There wasonly one note in her conversation which jarred upon me. She was apt todrift into the extraordinary views of life and death which wereinteresting when formulated by her eccentric brother, but pained mecoming from her lips. In spite of this, the purpose I had contemplatedof joining Brande's Society--evoked as it had been by his own whimsicalobservation--now took definite form. I would join that Society. It wouldbe the best way of keeping near to Natalie Brande. 

Her brother returned to us to say that the tender was about to leave theship. He had left us for half an hour. I did not notice his absenceuntil he himself announced it. As we shook hands, I said to him:

"I have been thinking about that Society of yours. I mean to join it. "

"I am very glad, " he replied. "You will find it a new sensation, quiteoutside the beaten track, which you know so well. "

There was a shade of half-kindly contempt in his voice, which missed meat the moment. I answered gaily, knowing that he would not be offendedby what was said in jest:

"I am sure I shall. If all the members are as mad as yourself, it willbe the most interesting experience outside Bedlam that any man couldwish for. "

I had a foretaste of that interest soon. 

As Miss Brande was walking to the gangway, a lamp shone full upon hergypsy face. The blue-black hair, the dark eyes, and a deep red rose shewore in her bonnet, seemed to me an exquisite arrangement of harmoniouscolour. And the thought flashed into my mind very vividly, howevertrivial it may seem here, when written down in cold words: "The queen ofwomen, and the queen of flowers. " That is not precisely how my thoughtran, but I cannot describe it better. The finer subtleties of the braindo not bear well the daylight of language. 

Brande drew her back and whispered to her. Then the sweet face, nowslightly flushed, was turned to me again. 

"Oh, thank you for that pretty thought, " she said with a pleasant smile. "You are too flattering. The 'queen of flowers' is very true, but the'queen of women!' Oh, no!" She made a graceful gesture of dissent, andpassed down the gangway. 

As the tender disappeared into the darkness, a tiny scrap of lace waved, and I knew vaguely that she was thinking of me. But how she read mythought so exactly I could not tell. 

That knowledge it has been my fate to gain. 

CHAPTER II. 

A STRANGE EXPERIMENT. 

Soon after my arrival in London, I called on Brande, at the address hehad given me in Brook Street. He received me with the pleasantaffability which a man of the world easily assumes, and his apology forbeing unable to pass the evening with me in his own house was a model ofsocial style. The difficulty in the way was practically animpossibility. His Society had a meeting on that evening, and it wasimperative that he should be present. 

"Why not come yourself?" he said. "It is what we might call a guestnight. That is, visitors, if friends of members, are admitted, and asthis privilege may not be again accorded to outsiders, you ought to comebefore you decide finally to join us. I must go now, but Natalie" (hedid not say "Miss Brande") "will entertain you and bring you to thehall. It is very near--in Hanover Square. "

"I shall be very glad indeed to bring Miss Brande to the hall, " Ianswered, changing the sentence in order to correct Brande's toopatronising phrase. 

"The same thing in different words, is it not? If you prefer it thatway, please have it so. " His imperturbability was unaffected. 

Miss Brande here entered the room. Her brother, with a word of renewedapology, left us, and presently I saw him cross the street and hail apassing hansom. 

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

I stammered out that I did not blame him at all, and indeed mydisclaimer was absolutely true. Brande could not have pleased me betterthan he had done by relieving us of his company. 

Miss Brande made tea, which I pretended to enjoy in the hope of pleasingher. Over this we talked more like old and well proven friends than mereacquaintances of ten days' standing. Just once or twice the mysteriouschord which marred the girl's charming conversation was touched. Sheimmediately changed the subject on observing my distress. I saydistress, for a weaker word would not fittingly describe the emotion Ifelt whenever she blundered into the pseudo-scientific nonsense whichwas her brother's favourite affectation. At least, it seemed nonsense tome. I could not well foresee then that the theses which appeared to bemere theoretical absurdities, would ever be proven--as they havebeen--very terrible realities. On subjects of ordinary educationalinterest my hostess displayed such full knowledge of the question andease in dealing with it, that I listened, fascinated, as long as shechose to continue speaking. It was a novel and delightful experience tohear a girl as handsome as a pictorial masterpiece, and dressed like acourt beauty, discourse with the knowledge, and in the language, of theoldest philosopher. But this was only one of the many surprisingcombinations in her complex personality. My noviciate was still in itsfirst stage. 

The time to set out for the meeting arrived all too soon for myinclination. We decided to walk, the evening being fine and not toowarm, and the distance only a ten minutes' stroll. At a street crossing, we met a crowd unusually large for that neighbourhood. Miss Brandeagain surprised me. She was watching the crowd seething and swarmingpast. Her dark eyes followed the people with a strange wondering, pitying look which I did not understand. Her face, exquisite in itsexpression at all times, was now absolutely transformed, beatified. Brande had often spoken to me of mesmerism, clairvoyance, and similarsubjects, and it occurred to me that he had used his sister as a medium, a clairvoyante. Her brain was not, therefore, under normal control. Idetermined instantly to tell him on the first opportunity that if he didnot wish to see the girl permanently injured, he would have to curtailhis hypnotic influence. 

"It is rather a stirring sight, " I said so sharply to Miss Brande thatshe started. I meant to startle her, but did not succeed as far as Iwished. 

"It is a very terrible sight, " she answered. 

"Oh, there is no danger, " I said hastily, and drew her hand over my arm. 

"Danger! I was not thinking of danger. "

As she did not remove her hand, I did not infringe the silence whichfollowed this, until a break in the traffic allowed us to cross thestreet. Then I said:

"May I ask what you were thinking of just now, Miss Brande?"

"Of the people--their lives--their work--their misery!"

"I assure you many are very happy, " I replied. "You take a morbid view. Misery is not the rule. I am sure the majority are happy. "

"What difference does that make?" the girl said with a sigh. "What isthe end of it all--the meaning of it all? Their happiness! _Cui Bono?_"

We walked on in silence, while I turned over in my mind what she hadsaid. I could come to no conclusion upon it save that my dislike for herenigmatic aberrations was becoming more intense as my liking for thegirl herself increased. To change the current of her thoughts and myown, I asked her abruptly:

"Are you a member of the _Cui Bono_ Society?"

"I! Oh, no. Women are not allowed to join--for the present. "

"I am delighted to hear it, " I said heartily, "and I hope the rule willcontinue in force. "

She looked at me in surprise. "Why should you mind? You are joiningyourself. "

"That is different. I don't approve of ladies mixing themselves up inthese curious and perhaps questionable societies. "

My remark amused her. Her eyes sparkled with simple fun. The change inher manner was very agreeable to me. 

"I might have expected that. " To my extreme satisfaction she now lookedalmost mischievous. "Herbert told me you were a little--"

"A little what?"

"Well, a little--you won't be vexed? That is right. He said alittle--mediĉval. "

This abated my appreciation of her sense of humour, and I maintained adignified 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 theextravagantly modern costumes of the younger women, which I cannotdescribe better than by saying that there was little difference in itfrom that of ordinary male attire, was quite conventional in so far asthe interchange of ordinary courtesies went. When, however, any memberof the Society mingled with a group of visitors, the conversation wassoon turned into a new channel. Secrets of science, which I had beenaccustomed to look upon as undiscoverable, were bandied about like themerest commonplaces of education. The absurdity of individuality and thesubjectivity of the emotions were alike insisted on without notice ofthe paradox, which to me appeared extreme. The Associates werealtruistic for the sake of altruism, not for the sake of itsbeneficiaries. They were not pantheists, for they saw neither universalgood nor God, but rather evil in all things--themselves included. Theirtalk, however, was brilliant, and, with allowance for its jarringsentiments, it possessed something of the indefinable charm whichfollowed Brande. My reflections on this identity of interest wereinterrupted by the man himself. After a word of welcome he said:

"Let me show you our great experiment; that which touches the high-watermark of scientific achievement in the history of humanity. It is notmuch in itself, but it is the pioneer of many marvels. "

He brought me to a metal stand, on which a small instrument constructedof some white metal was placed. A large number of wires were connectedwith various portions of it, and these wires passed into the side-wallof the building. 

In appearance, this marvel of micrology, so far as the eye-piece andupper portions went, was like an ordinary microscope, but its magnifyingpower was to me unbelievable. It magnified the object under examinationmany thousand times more than the most powerful microscope in the world. 

I looked through the upper lens, and saw a small globe suspended in themiddle of a tiny chamber filled with soft blue light, or transparentmaterial. Circling round this globe four other spheres revolved inorbits, some almost circular, some elliptical, some parabolic. As Ilooked, Brande touched a key, and the little globules began to fly morerapidly round their primary, and make wider sweeps in their revolutions. Another key was pressed, and the revolving spheres slowed down and drewcloser until I could scarcely distinguish any movement. The globulesseemed to form a solid ball. 

"Attend now!" Brande exclaimed. 

He tapped the first key sharply. A little grey cloud obscured the bluelight. When it cleared away, the revolving globes had disappeared. 

"What do you think of it?" he asked carelessly. 

"What is it? What does it mean? Is it the solar system or some othersystem illustrated in miniature? I am sorry for the misadventure. "

"You are partly correct, " Brande replied. "It is an illustration of aplanetary system, though a small one. But there was no misadventure. Icaused the somewhat dangerous result you witnessed, the wreckage notmerely of the molecule of marsh gas you were examining--which anyeducated chemist might do as easily as I--but the wreckage of itsconstituent atoms. This is a scientific victory which dwarfs the work ofHelmholtz, Avogadro, or Mendelejeff. The immortal Dalton himself" (theword "immortal" was spoken with a sneer) "might rise from his grave towitness it. "

"Atoms--molecules! What are you talking about?" I asked, bewildered. 

"You were looking on at the death of a molecule--a molecule of marshgas, as I have already said. It was caused by a process which I woulddescribe to you if I could reduce my own life work--and that of everyscientific amateur who has preceded me since the world began--into halfa dozen sentences. As that would be difficult, I must ask you to acceptmy personal assurance that you witnessed a fact, not a fiction of myimagination. "

"And your instrument is so perfect that it not only renders moleculesand atoms but their diffusion visible? It is a microscopicimpossibility. At least it is amazing. "

"Pshaw!" Brande exclaimed impatiently. "My instrument does certainlymagnify to a marvellous extent, but not by the old device of the simplemicroscope, which merely focussed a large area of light rays into asmall one. So crude a process could never show an atom to the human eye. I add much to that. I restore to the rays themselves the luminositywhich they lost in their passage through our atmosphere. I give themback all their visual properties, and turn them with their full ethericblaze on the object under examination. Great as that achievement is, Ideny that it is amazing. It may amaze a Papuan to see his eyelashmagnified to the size of a wire, or an uneducated Englishman to see acheese-mite magnified to the size of a midge. It should not amaze youto see a simple process a little further developed. "

"Where does the danger you spoke of come in?" I asked with a pretence ofinterest. Candidly, I did not believe a single word that Brande hadsaid. 

"If you will consult a common text-book on the physics of the ether, " hereplied, "you will find that one grain of matter contains sufficientenergy, if etherised, to raise a hundred thousand tons nearly two miles. In face of such potentiality it is not wise to wreck incautiously eventhe atoms of a molecule. "

"And the limits to this description of scientific experiment? Where arethey?"

"There are no limits, " Brande said decisively. "No man can say toscience 'thus far and no farther. ' 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 a few days after themeeting was one addressed in an unfamiliar hand. The writing was bold, and formed like a man's. There was a faint trace of a perfume about theenvelope which I remembered. I opened it first. 

It was, as I expected, from Miss Brande. Her brother had gone to theircountry place on the southern coast. She and her friend, Edith Metford, were going that day. Their luggage was already at the station. Would Isend on what I required for a short visit, and meet them at eleveno'clock on the bridge over the Serpentine? It was enough for me. Ipacked a large portmanteau hastily, sent it to Charing Cross, and spentthe time at my disposal in the park, which was close to my hotel. 

Although the invitation I had received gave me pleasure, I could notaltogether remove from my mind a vague sense of disquietude concerningHerbert Brande and his Society. The advanced opinions I had heard, ifextreme, were not altogether alarming. But the mysterious way in whichBrande himself had spoken about the Society, and the still moremysterious air which some of the members assumed when directlyquestioned as to its object, suggested much. Might it not be arevolutionary party engaged in a grave intrigue--a branch of someforeign body whose purpose was so dangerous that ordinary disguises werenot considered sufficiently secure? Might they not have adopted thejargon and pretended to the opinions of scientific faddists as a cloakfor designs more sinister and sincere? The experiment I witnessed mightbe almost a miracle or merely a trick. Thinking it over thus, I couldcome to no final opinion, and when I asked myself aloud, "What are youafraid of?" I could not answer my own question. But I thought I woulddefer joining the Society pending further information. 

A few minutes before eleven, I walked towards the bridge over theSerpentine. No ladies appeared to be on it. There were only a couple ofsmartly dressed youths there, one smoking a cigarette. I sauntered aboutuntil one of the lads, the one who was not smoking, looked up andbeckoned to me. I approached leisurely, for it struck me that the boywould have shown better breeding if he had come toward me, consideringmy seniority. 

"I am sorry I did not notice you sooner. Why did you not come on whenyou saw us?" the smallest and slimmest youth called to me. 

"In the name of--Miss--Miss--" I stammered. 

"Brande; you haven't forgotten my name, I hope, " Natalie Brande saidcoolly. "This is my friend, Edith Metford. Metford, this is ArthurMarcel. "

"How do you do, Marcel? I am glad to meet you; I have heard 'favourablemention' of you from the Brandes, " the second figure in knickerbockerssaid pleasantly. 

"How do you do, sir--madam--I mean--Miss--" I blundered, and then indespair I asked Miss Brande, "Is this a tableau vivant? What is themeaning of these disguises?" My embarrassment was so great that mydiscourteous question may be pardoned. 

"Our dress! Surely you have seen women rationally dressed before!" MissBrande answered complacently, while the other girl watched myastonishment with evident amusement. 

This second girl, Edith Metford, was a frank, handsome young woman, butunlike the spirituelle beauty of Natalie Brande. She was perceptiblytaller than her friend, and of fuller figure. In consequence, shelooked, in my opinion, to even less advantage in her eccentric costume, or rational dress, than did Miss Brande. 

"Rationally dressed! Oh, yes. I know the divided skirt, but--"

Miss Metford interrupted me. "Do you call the divided skirt atrocityrational dress?" she asked pointedly. 

"Upon my honour I do not, " I answered. 

These girls were too advanced in their ideas of dress for me. Nor did Ifeel at all at my ease during this conversation, which did not, however, appear to embarrass them. I proposed hastily to get a cab, but theydemurred. It was such a lovely day, they preferred to walk, part of theway at least. I pointed out that there might be drawbacks to thisamendment of my proposal. 

"What drawbacks?" Miss Metford asked. 

"For instance, isn't it probable we shall all be arrested by thepolice?" I replied. 

"Rubbish! We are not in Russia, " both exclaimed. 

"Which is lucky for you, " I reflected, as we commenced what was to me amost disagreeable walk. I got them into a cab sooner than they wished. At the railway station I did not offer to procure their tickets. To doso, I felt, would only give offence. Critical glances followed us as wewent to our carriage. Londoners are becoming accustomed to varieties, ifnot vagaries, in ladies' costumes, but the dress of my friends wasevidently a little out of the common even for them. Miss Metford wasjust turning the handle of a carriage door, when I interposed, saying, "This is a smoking compartment. "

"So I see. I am going to smoke--if you don't object?"

"I don't suppose it would make any difference if I did, " I said, withunconscious asperity, for indeed this excess of free manners was jarringupon me. The line dividing it from vulgarity was becoming so thin I waslosing sight of the divisor. Yet no one, even the most fastidious, could associate vulgarity with Natalie Brande. There remained an air ofunassumed sincerity about herself and all her actions, including evenher dress, which absolutely excluded her from hostile criticism. I couldnot, however, extend that lenient judgment to Miss Metford. The girlsspoke and acted--as they had dressed themselves--very much alike. Only, what seemed to me in the one a natural eccentricity, seemed in the otheran unnatural affectation. 

I saw the guard passing, and, calling him over, gave him half-a-crown tohave the compartment labelled, "Engaged. "

Miss Brande, who had been looking out of the window, absently asked myreason for this precaution. I replied that I wanted the compartmentreserved for ourselves. I certainly did not want any staring andotherwise offensive fellow-passengers. 

"We don't want all the seats, " she persisted. 

"No, " I admitted. "We don't want the extra seats. But I thought youmight like the privacy. "

"The desire for privacy is an archaic emotion, " Miss Metford remarkedsententiously, as she struck a match. 

"Besides, it is so selfish. We may be crowding others, " Miss Brande saidquietly. 

I was glad she did not smoke. 

"I don't want that now, " I said to a porter who was hurrying up with alabel. To the girls I remarked a little snappishly, "Of course you arequite right. You must excuse my ignorance. "

"No, it is not ignorance, " Miss Brande demurred. "You have been away somuch. You have hardly been in England, you told me, for years, and--"

"And progress has been marching in my absence, " I interrupted. 

"So it seems, " Miss Metford remarked so significantly that I reallycould not help retorting with as much emphasis, compatible withpoliteness, as I could command:

"You see I am therefore unable to appreciate the New Woman, of whom Ihave heard so much since I came home. "

"The conventional New Woman is a grandmotherly old fossil, " Miss Metfordsaid quietly. 

This disposed of me. I leant back in my seat, and was rigidly silent. 

Miles of green fields stippled with daisies and bordered with longlines of white and red hawthorn hedges flew past. The smell of new-mownhay filled the carriage with its sweet perfume, redolent of oldassociations. My long absence dwindled to a short holiday. The world'swide highways were far off. I was back in the English fields. My slightannoyance passed away. I fell into a pleasant day-dream, which wasbroken by a soft voice, every undulation of which I already knew byheart. 

"I am afraid you think us very advanced, " it murmured. 

"Very, " I agreed, "but I look to you to bring even me up to date. "

"Oh, yes, we mean to do that, but we must proceed very gradually. "

"You have made an excellent start, " I put in. 

"Otherwise you would only be shocked. "

"It is quite possible. " I said this with so much conviction that the twoburst out laughing at me. I could not think of anything more to add, andI felt relieved when, with a warning shriek, the train dashed into atunnel. By the time we had emerged again into the sunlight and thesolitude of the open landscape I had ready an impromptu which I hadbeen working at in the darkness. I looked straight at Miss Metford andsaid:

"After all, it is very pleasant to travel with girls like you. "

"Thank you!"

"You did not show any hysterical fear of my kissing you in the tunnel. "

"Why the deuce would you do that?" Miss Metford replied with greatcomposure, as she blew a smoke ring. 

When we reached our destination I braced myself for another disagreeableminute or two. For if the great Londoners thought us quaint, surely thelittle country station idlers would swear we were demented. We crossedthe platform so quickly that the wonderment we created soon passed. Ourluggage was looked after by a servant, to whose care I confided it witha very brief description. The loss of an item of it did not seem to meof as much importance as our own immediate departure. 

Brande met us at his hall door. His house was a pleasant one, coveredwith flowering creeping plants, and surrounded by miniature forests. Infront there was a lake four hundred yards in width. Close-shaven lawnsbordered it. They were artificial products, no doubt, but they wereartificial successes--undulating, earth-scented, fresh rolled everymorning. Here there was an isolated shrub, there a thick bank ofrhododendrons. And the buds, bursting into floral carnival, promisedfine contrasts when their full splendour was come. The lake waveletstinkled musically on a pebbly beach. 

Our host could not entertain us in person. He was busy. The plea wasevidently sincere, notwithstanding that the business of a countrygentleman--which he now seemed to be--is something less exacting thanbusy people's leisure. After a short rest, and an admirably-servedlunch, we were dismissed to the woods for our better amusement. 

Thereafter followed for me a strangely peaceful, idyllic day--all saveits ending. Looking back on it, I know that the sun which set thatevening went down on the last of my happiness. But it all seems trivialnow. 

My companions were accomplished botanists, and here, for the first time, I found myself on common ground with both. We discussed every familiarwild flower as eagerly as if we had been professed field naturalists. Inwalking or climbing my assistance was neither requisitioned norrequired. I did not offer, therefore, what must have been unwelcome whenit was superfluous. 

We rested at last under the shade of a big beech, for the afternoon sunwas rather oppressive. It was a pleasant spot to while away an hour. Apurling brook went babbling by, singing to itself as it journeyed to thesea. Insects droned about in busy flight. There was a perfume ofhoneysuckle wafted to us on the summer wind, which stirred thebeech-tree and rustled its young leaves lazily, so that the sunlightpeeped through the green lattice-work and shone on the faces of thesetwo handsome girls, stretched in graceful postures on the cool swardbelow--their white teeth sparkling in its brilliance, while their softlaughter made music for me. In the fulness of my heart, I said aloud:

"It is a good thing to be alive. "

CHAPTER IV. 

GEORGE DELANY--DECEASED. 

"It is a good thing to be alive, " Natalie Brande repeated slowly, gazing, as it were, far off through her half-closed eyelids. Thenturning to me and looking at me full, wide-eyed, she asked: "A goodthing for how many?"

"For all; for everything that is alive. "

"Faugh! For few things that are alive. For hardly anything. You say itis a good thing to be alive. How often have you said that in your life?"

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

"Then you do not know what it is to feel for others. "

There was a scream in the underwood near us. It ended in a short, choking squeak. The girl paled, but she went on with outward calm. 

"That hawk or cat feels as you do. I wonder what that young rabbitthinks of life's problem?"

"But we are neither hawks nor cats, nor even young rabbits, " I answeredwarmly. "We can not bear the burthens of the whole animal world. Our ownare sufficient for us. "

"You are right. They are more than sufficient. "

I had made a false move, and so tried to recover my lost ground. Shewould not permit me. The conversation which had run in pleasant channelsfor two happy hours was ended. Thenceforth, in spite of my obstructiveefforts, subjects were introduced which could not be conversed on butmust be discussed. On every one Miss Brande took the part of the weakagainst the strong, oblivious of every consideration of policy and evenethics, careful only that she championed the weak because of theirweakness. Miss Metford abetted her in this, and went further in theirjoint revolt against common sense. Miss Brande was argumentative, pleading. Miss Metford was defiant. Between the two I fared ill. 

Of course the Woman question was soon introduced, and in this I made thebest defence of time-honoured customs of which I was capable. But myoutworks fell down as promptly before the voices of these young women asdid the walls of Jericho before the blast of a ram's horn. Nothing thatI had cherished was left to me. Woman no longer wanted man's protection. ("Enslavement" they called it. ) Why should she, when in the evolution ofsociety there was not now, or presently would not be, anything fromwhich to protect her? ("Competing slaveowners" was what they said. ) Whenyou wish to behold protectors you must postulate dangers. The first arevalueless save as a preventive of the second. Both evils will beconveniently dispensed with. All this was new to me, most of my thinkinglife having been passed in distant lands, where the science of ethics iscodified into a simple statute--the will of the strongest. 

When my dialectical humiliation was within one point of completion, MissMetford came to my rescue. For some time she had looked on at mydiscomfiture with a good-natured neutrality, and when I wasmetaphorically in my last ditch, she arose, stretched her shapelyfigure, flicked some clinging grass blades from her suit, and declaredit was time to return. Brande was a man of science, but as such he wasstill amenable to punctuality in the matter of dinner. 

On the way back I was discreetly silent. When we reached the house Iwent to look for Herbert Brande. He was engaged in his study, and Icould not intrude upon him there. To do so would be to infringe the onlyrigid rule in his household. Nor had I an opportunity of speaking to himalone until after dinner, when I induced him to take a turn with meround the lake. I smoked strong cigars, and made one of these my excuse. 

The sun was setting when we started, and as we walked slowly thetwilight shadows were deepening fast by the time we reached the furthershore. Brande was in high spirits. Some new scientific experiment, Iassumed, had come off successfully. He was beside himself. Hisconversation was volcanic. Now it rumbled and roared with suppressedfires. Anon, it burst forth in scintillating flashes and shot outstreams of quickening wit. I have been his auditor in the three greatepochs of his life, but I do not think that anything that I haverecollected of his utterances equals the bold impromptus, the masterlyhandling of his favourite subject, the Universe, which fell from him onthat evening. I could not answer him. I could not even follow him, muchless suppress him. But I had come forth with a specific object in view, and I would not be gainsaid. And so, as my business had to be donebetter that it should be done quickly. Taking advantage of a pause whichhe made, literally for breath, I commenced abruptly:

"I want to speak to you about your sister. "

He turned on me surprised. Then his look changed to one of such completecontempt, and withal his bearing suggested so plainly that he knewbeforehand what I was going to say, that I blurted out defiantly, andwithout stopping to choose my words:

"I think it an infernal shame that you, her brother, should allow her tomasquerade about with this good-natured but eccentric Metford girl--Ishould say Miss Metford. "

"Why so?" he asked coldly. 

"Because it is absurd; and because it isn't decent. "

"My dear Abraham, " Brande said quietly, "or is your period so recent asthat of Isaac or Jacob? My sister pleases herself in these matters, andhas every right to do so. "

"She has not. You are her brother. "

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

"You'll be sorry for this nonsense sooner or later--and don't say Ididn't warn you. " The absolute futility of my last clause struck mepainfully at the moment, but I could not think of any way to better it. It was hard to reason with such a man, one who denied the fundamentalprinciples of family life. I was thinking over what to say next, whenBrande stopped and put his hand, in a kindly way, upon my shoulder. 

"My good fellow, " he said, "what does it matter? What do the actions ofmy sister signify more than the actions of any other man's sister? Andwhat 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 themorning that I would see yourself and your Society to the devil before Iwould join it. Excuse my bluntness; but you are so extremely candidyourself you will not mind. "

"Certainly, I do not mind bluntness. Rudeness is superfluous. "

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

"I like that, " Brande said gravely. "That is the spirit I want in theman who joins me. "

To which I replied: "What under the sun is the object of this Society ofyours?"

"Proximately to complete our investigations--already far advanced--intothe origin of the Universe. "

"And ultimately?"

"I cannot tell you now. You will not know that until you join us. "

"And if your ultimate object does not suit me, I can withdraw?"

"No, it would then be too late. "

"How so? I am not morally bound by an oath which I swear without fullknowledge of its consequences and responsibilities. "

"Oath! The oath you swear! You swear no oath. Do you fancy you arejoining a society of Rechabites or Carmelites, or mediĉval rubbish ofthat kind. Don't keep so painstakingly behind the age. "

I thought for a moment over what this mysterious man had said, over thehidden dangers in which his mad chimeras might involve the most innocentaccomplice. Then I thought of that dark-eyed, sweet-voiced, young girl, as she lay on the green grass under the beech-tree in the wood andout-argued me on every point. Very suddenly, and, perhaps, in a mannersomewhat grandiose, I answered him:

"I will join your Society for my own purpose, and I will quit it when Ichoose. "

"You have every right, " Brande said carelessly. "Many have done the samebefore you. "

"Can you introduce me to any one who has done so?" I asked, with aneagerness that could not be dissembled. 

"I am afraid I can not. "

"Or give me an address?"

"Oh yes, that is simple. " He turned over a note-book until he found ablank page. Then he drew the pencil from its loop, put the point to hislips, and paused. He was standing with his back to the failing light, soI could not see the expression of his mobile face. When he paused, Iknew that no ordinary doubt beset him. He stood thus for nearly aminute. While he waited, I watched a pair of swans flit ghost-like overthe silken surface of the lake. Between us and a dark bank of wood thelights of the house flamed red. The melancholy even-song of a blackbirdwailed out from a shrubbery beside us. Then Herbert Brande wrote in hisnote-book, and tearing out the page, he handed it to me, saying: "Thatis the address of the last man who quitted us. "

The light was now so dim I had to hold the paper close to my eyes inorder to read the lines. They were these--

 GEORGE DELANY, Near Saint Anne's Chapel, Woking Cemetery. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE MURDER CLUB. 

"Delany was the last man who quitted us--you see I use your expressionagain. I like it, " Brande said quietly, watching me as he spoke. 

I stood staring at the slip of paper which I held in my hand for somemoments before I could reply. When my voice came back, I asked hoarsely:

"Did this man, Delany, die suddenly after quitting the Society?"

"He died immediately. The second event was contemporaneous with thefirst. "

"And in consequence of it?"

"Certainly. "

"Have all the members who retired from your list been equallyshort-lived?"

"Without any exception whatever. "

"Then your Society, after all your high-flown talk about it, is only avulgar murder club, " I said bitterly. 

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

"I call things by their plain names. You may call your Society what youplease. As to my joining it in face of what you have told me--"

"Which is more than was ever told to any man before he joined--to anyman living or dead. And more, you need not join it yet unless you stillwish to do so. I presume what I have said will prevent you. "

"On the contrary, if I had any doubt, or if there was any possibility ofmy wavering before this interview, there is none now. I join at once. "

He would have taken my hand, but that I could not permit. I left himwithout another word, or any form of salute, and returned to the house. I did not appear again in the domestic circle that evening, for I hadenough upon my mind without further burdening myself with socialpretences. 

I sat in my room and tried once more to consider my position. It wasthis: for the sake of a girl whom I had only met some score of times;who sometimes acted, talked, dressed after a fashion suggestive ofinsanity; who had glorious dark eyes, a perfect figure, and anexquisitely beautiful face--but I interrupt myself. For the sake of thisgirl, and for the manifestly impossible purpose of protecting her fromherself as well as others, I had surrendered myself to the probablevengeance of a band of cut-throats if I betrayed them, and to thecertain vengeance of the law if I did not. Brande, notwithstanding hisconstant scepticism, was scrupulously truthful. His statement of factmust be relied upon. His opinions were another matter. As nothingpractical resulted from my reflections, I came to the conclusion that Ihad got into a pretty mess for the sake of a handsome face. I regrettedthis result, but was glad of the cause of it. On this I went to bed. 

Next morning I was early astir, for I must see Natalie Brande withoutdelay, and I felt sure she would be no sluggard on that splendid summerday. I tried the lawn between the house and the lake shore. I did notfind her there. I found her friend Miss Metford. The girl was saunteringabout, swinging a walking-cane carelessly. She was still rationallydressed, but I observed with relief that the rational part of hercostume was more in the nature of the divided skirt than the plainknickerbockers of the previous day. She accosted me cheerfully by mysurname, and not to be outdone by her, I said coolly:

"How d'ye do, Metford?"

"Very well, thanks. I suppose you expected Natalie? You see you haveonly me. "

"Delighted, " I was commencing with a forced smile, when she stopped me. 

"You look it. But that can't be helped. Natalie saw you going out, andsent me to meet you. I am to look after you for an hour or so. You jointhe Society this evening, I hear. You must be very pleased--andflattered. "

I could not assent to this, and so remained silent. The girl chatteredon in her own outspoken manner, which, now that I was growing accustomedto it, I did not find as unpleasant as at first. One thing was evidentto me. She had no idea of the villainous nature of Brande's Society. Shecould not have spoken so carelessly if she shared my knowledge of it. While she talked to me, I wondered if it was fair to her--a likeablegirl, in spite of her undesirable affectations of advanced opinion, emancipation or whatever she called it--was it fair to allow her toassociate with a band of murderers, and not so much as whisper a word ofwarning? No doubt, I myself was associating with the band; but I was notin ignorance of the responsibility thereby incurred. 

"Miss Metford, " I said, without heeding whether I interrupted her, "areyou in the secret of this Society?"

"I? Not at present. I shall be later on. "

I stopped and faced her with so serious an expression that she listenedto me attentively. 

"If you will take my earnest advice--and I beg you not to neglectit--you will have nothing to do with it or any one belonging to it. "

"Not even Brande--I mean Natalie? Is she dangerous?"

I disregarded her mischief and continued: "If you can get Miss Brandeaway from her brother and his acquaintances, " (I had nearly saidaccomplices, ) "and keep her away, you would be doing the best andkindest thing you ever did in your life. "

Miss Metford was evidently impressed by my seriousness, but, as sheherself said very truly, it was unlikely that she would be able tointerfere in the way I suggested. Besides, my mysterious warning wasaltogether too vague to be of any use as a guide for her own action, much less that of her friend. I dared not speak plainer. I could onlyrepeat, in the most emphatic words, my anxiety that she would thinkcarefully over what I had said. I then pretended to recollect anengagement with Brande, for I was in such low spirits I had reallylittle taste for any company. 

She was disappointed, and said so in her usual straightforward way. Itwas not in the power of any gloomy prophecy to oppress her long. Theserious look which my words had brought on her face passed quickly, andit was in her natural manner that she bade me good-morning, saying:

"It is rather a bore, for I looked forward to a pleasant hour or twotaking you about. "

I postponed my breakfast for want of appetite, and, as Brande's housewas the best example of Liberty Hall I had ever met with, I offered noapology for my absence during the entire day when I rejoined my host andhostess in the evening. The interval I spent in the woods, thinkingmuch and deciding nothing. 

After dinner, Brande introduced me to a man whom he called Edward Grey. Natalie conducted me to the room in which they were engaged. From themass of correspondence in which this man Grey was absorbed, and thelitter of papers about him, it was evident that he must have been in thehouse long before I made his acquaintance. 

Grey handed me a book, which I found to be a register of the names ofthe members of Brande's Society, and pointed out the place for mysignature. 

When I had written my name on the list I said to Brande: "Now that Ihave nominated myself, I suppose you'll second me?"

"It is not necessary, " he answered; "you are already a member. Yourremark to Miss Metford this morning made you one of us. You advised her, you recollect, to beware of us. "

"That girl!" I exclaimed, horrified. "Then she is one of your spies? Isit possible?"

"No, she is not one of our spies. We have none, and she knew nothing ofthe purpose for which she was used. "

"Then I beg to say that you have made a d--d shameful use of her. "

In the passion of the moment I forgot my manners to my host, and formedthe resolution to denounce the Society to the police the moment Ireturned to London. Brande was not offended by my violence. There wasnot a trace of anger in his voice as he said:

"Miss Metford's information was telepathically conveyed to my sister. "

"Then it was your sister--"

"My sister knows as little as the other. In turn, I received theinformation telepathically from her, without the knowledge of either. Iwas just telling Grey of it when you came into the room. "

"And, " said Grey, "your intention to go straight from this house toScotland Yard, there to denounce us to the police, has beentelepathically received by myself. "

"My God!" I cried, "has a man no longer the right to his own thoughts?"

Grey went on without noticing my exclamation: "Any overt or covertaction on your part, toward carrying out your intention, will betelepathically conveyed to us, and our executive--" He shrugged hisshoulders. 

"I know, " I said, "Woking Cemetery, near Saint Anne's Chapel. You haveground there. "

"Yes, we have to dispense with--"

"Say murder. "

"Dispense with, " Grey repeated sharply, "any member whose loyalty isquestionable. This is not our wish; it is our necessity. It is the onlymeans by which we can secure the absolute immunity of the Societypending the achievement of its object. To dispense with any living manwe have only to will that he shall die. "

"And now that I am a member, may I ask what is this object, the secretof which you guard with such fiendish zeal?" I demanded angrily. 

"The restoration of a local etheric tumour to its original formation. "

"I am already weary of this jargon from Brande, " I interrupted. "What doyou mean?"

"We mean to attempt the reduction of the solar system to its elementalether. "

"And you will accomplish this triviality by means of Huxley's comet, Isuppose?"

I could scarcely control my indignation. This fooling, as I thought it, struck me as insulting. Neither Brande nor Grey appeared to notice mykeen resentment. Grey answered me in a quiet, serious tone. 

"We shall attempt it by destroying the earth. We may fail in thecomplete achievement of our design, but in any case we shall at least becertain of reducing this planet to the ether of which it is composed. "

"Of course, of course, " I agreed derisively. "You will at least makesure of that. You have found out how to do it too, I have no doubt?"

"Yes, " said Grey, "we have found out. "

CHAPTER VI. 

A TELEPATHIC TELEGRAM. 

I left the room and hurried outside without any positive plan for mymovements. My brain was in such a whirl I could form no connected trainof thought. These men, whose conversation was a jargon fitting only forlunatics, had proved that they could read my mind with the ease of atelegraph operator taking a message off a wire. That they, further, possessed marvellous, if not miraculous powers, over occult naturalforces could hardly be doubted. The net in which I had voluntarilyentangled myself was closing around me. An irresistible impulse tofly--to desert Natalie and save myself--came over me. I put this asidepresently. It was both unworthy and unwise. For whither should I fly?The ends of the earth would not be far enough to save me, the depths ofthe sea would not be deep enough to hide me from those who killed bywilling that their victim should die. 

On the other hand, if my senses had only been hocussed, and Messrs. Brande and Grey were nothing better than clever tricksters, the parkgate was far enough, and the nearest policeman force enough, to save mefrom their vengeance. But the girl--Natalie! She was clairvoyante. Theypractised upon her. My diagnosis of the strange seeing-without-sightexpression of her eyes was then correct. And it was clear to me thatwhatsoever or whomsoever Brande and Grey believed or disbelieved in, they certainly believed in themselves. They might be relied on to sparenothing and no one in their project, however ridiculous or mad theirpurpose might be. What then availed my paltry protection when the girlherself was a willing victim, and the men omnipotent? Nevertheless, if Ifailed eventually to serve her, I could at least do my best. 

It was clear that I must stand by Natalie Brande. 

While I was thus reflecting, the following conversation took placebetween Brande and Grey. I found a note of it in a diary which Brandekept desultorily. He wrote this up so irregularly no continuousinformation can be gleaned from it as to his life. How the diary cameinto my hands will be seen later. The memorandum is written thus:--

_Grey_--Our new member? Why did you introduce him? You say he cannothelp with money. It is plain he cannot help with brains. 

_Brande_--He interests Natalie. He is what the uneducated callgood-natured. He enjoys doing unselfish things, unaware that it is forthe selfish sake of the agreeable sensation thereby secured. Besides, Ilike him myself. He amuses me. To make him a member was the only safeway of keeping him so much about us. But Natalie is the main reason. Iam afraid of her wavering in spite of my hypnotic influence. In a girlof her intensely emotional nature the sentiment of hopeless love willcreate profound melancholy. Dominated by that she is safe. It seemscruel at first sight. It is not really so. It is not cruel to reconcileher to a fate she cannot escape. It is merciful. For the rest, what doesit matter? It will be all the same in--

_Grey_--This day six months. 

_Brande_--I believe I shivered. Heredity has much to answer for. 

That is the whole of the entry. I did not read the words until the handthat wrote them was dust. 

Natalie professed some disappointment when I announced my immediatereturn to town. I was obliged to manufacture an excuse for such a hastydeparture, and so fell back on an old engagement which I had trulyoverlooked, and which really called me away. But it would have calledlong enough without an answer if it had not been for Brande himself, hisfriend Grey, and their insanities. My mind was fixed on one salientissue: how to get Natalie Brande out of her brother's evil influence. This would be better compassed when I myself was outside the scope ofhis extraordinary influence. And so I went without delay. 

For some time after my return to London, I went about visiting oldhaunts and friends. I soon tired of this. The haunts had lost theirinterest. The friends were changed, or I was changed. I could not resumethe friendships which had been interrupted. The chain of connection hadbeen broken and the links would not weld easily. So, after some futileefforts to return to the circle I had long deserted, I desisted andaccepted my exclusion with serenity. I am not sure that I desired theold relationships re-established. And as my long absence had preventedany fresh shoots of friendship being grafted, I found myself alone inLondon. I need say no more. 

One evening I was walking through the streets in a despondent mood, ashad become my habit. By chance I read the name of a street into which Ihad turned to avoid a more crowded thoroughfare. It was that in whichMiss Metford lived. I knew that she had returned to town, for she hadbriefly acquainted me with the fact on a postcard written some dayspreviously. 

Here was a chance of distraction. This girl's spontaneous gaiety, whichI found at first displeasing, was what I wanted to help me to shake offthe gloomy incubus of thought oppressing me. It was hardly within theproprieties to call upon her at such an hour, but it could not mattervery much, when the girl's own ideas were so unconventional. She hadindependent means, and lived apart from her family in order to be rid ofdomestic limitations. She had told me that she carried alatch-key--indeed she had shown it to me with a flourish of triumph--andthat she delighted in free manners. Free manners, she was careful toadd, did not mean bad manners. To my mind the terms were synonymous. When opposite her number I decided to call, and, having knocked at thedoor, was told that Miss Metford was at home. 

"Hallo, Marcel! Glad to see you, " she called out, somewhat stridentlyfor my taste. Her dress was rather mannish, as usual. In lieu of herout-door tunic she wore a smoking-jacket. When I entered she was sittingin an arm-chair, with her feet on a music-stool. She arose so hastilythat the music-stool was overturned, and allowed to lie where it fell. 

"What is the matter?" she asked, concerned. "Have you seen a ghost?"

"I think I have seen many ghosts of late, " I said, "and they have notbeen good company. I was passing your door, and I have come in forcomfort. "

She crossed the room and poured out some whisky from a decanter whichwas standing on a side-board. Then she opened a bottle of soda-waterwith a facility which suggested practice. I was relieved to think thatit was not Natalie who was my hostess. Handing me the glass, she saidperemptorily:

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

I lit a cigar and sat down beside her. The clouds began to lift from mybrain and float off in the blue smoke wreaths. We talked on ordinarytopics without my once noticing how deftly they had been introduced byMiss Metford. I never thought of the flight of time until a chime from atiny clock on the mantelpiece--an exquisite sample of the tastefulfurniture of the whole room--warned me that my visit had lasted twohours. I arose reluctantly. 

She rallied me on my ingratitude. I had come in a sorry plight. I wasnow restored. She was no 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 cannot tell you how grateful I am. You would not understand--"

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

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

"This is all I know, " she answered, in the rhyming voice of a youngpupil declaiming a piece of a little understood and less cared forrecitation. "The society has very interesting evenings. Brande shows onebeautiful experiments, which, I daresay, would be amazingly instructiveif one were inclined that way, which I am not. The men are mostlylong-haired creatures with spectacles. Some of them are rathergood-looking. All are wholly mad. And my friend--I mean the only girl Icould ever stand as a friend--Natalie Brande, is crazy about them. "

"Nothing more than that?"

"Nothing more. "

The clock now struck the hour of nine, the warning chime for which hadstartled me. 

"Is there anything more than that?" Miss Metford asked with someimpatience. 

I thought for a moment. Unless my own senses had deceived me thatevening in Brande's house, I ran a great risk of sharing George Delany'sfate if I remained where I was much longer. And suppose I told her allI knew, would not that bring the same danger upon her too? So I had toanswer:

"I cannot tell you. I am a member now. "

"Then you must know more than any mere outsider like myself. I supposeit would not be fair to ask you. Anyhow, you will come back and see mesoon. By the way, what is your address?"

I gave her my address. She wrote it down on a silver-cased tablet, andremarked:

"That will be all right. I'll look you up some evening. "

As I drove to my hotel, I felt that the mesmeric trick, or whateverartifice had been practised upon me by Brande and Grey, had now assumedits true proportion. I laughed at my fears, and was thankful that I hadnot described them to the strong-minded young woman to whose kindlysociety I owed so much. What an idiot she would have thought me!

A servant met me in the hall. 

"Telegram, sir. Just arrived at this moment. "

I took the telegram, and went upstairs with it unopened in my hand. Astrange fear overcame me. I dared not open the envelope. I knewbeforehand who the sender was, and what the drift of the message wouldbe. I was right. It was from Brande. 

 "I beg you to be more cautious. Your discussion with Miss M. This evening might have been disastrous. I thought all was over at nine o'clock. 

 "BRANDE. "

I sat down stupefied. When my senses returned, I looked at the tablewhere I had thrown the telegram. It was not there, nor in the room. Irang for the man who had given it to me, and he came immediately. 

"About that telegram you gave me just now, Phillips--"

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

"I mean when you spoke to me in the hall. "

"Yes, sir. I said 'good-night, ' but you took no notice. Excuse me, sir, I thought you looked strange. "

"Oh, I was thinking of something else. And I remember now, it wasJohnson who gave me the telegram. "

"Johnson left yesterday, sir. "

"Then it was yesterday I was thinking of. You may go, Phillips. "

So Brande's telepathic power was objective as well as subjective. My ownbrain, unaccustomed to be impressed by another mind "otherwise thanthrough the recognised channels of sense, " had supplied the likeliestauthority for its message. The message was duly delivered, but thetelegram was a delusion. 

CHAPTER VII. 

GUILTY!

As to protecting Natalie Brande from her brother and the fanatics withwhom he associated, it was now plain that I was powerless. And whatguarantee had I that she herself was unaware of his nefarious purpose;that she did not sympathise with it? This last thought flashed upon meone day, and the sting of pain that followed it was so intolerable, Idetermined instantly to prove its falsity or truth. 

I telegraphed to Brande that I was running down to spend a day or twowith him, and followed my message without waiting for a reply. I havestill a very distinct recollection of that journey, notwithstanding muchthat might well have blotted it from my memory. Every mile sped overseemed to mark one more barrier passed on my way to some strange fate;every moment which brought me nearer this incomprehensible girl withher magical eyes was an epoch of impossibility against my evervoluntarily turning back. And now that it is all over, I am glad that Iwent on steadfastly to the end. 

Brande received me with the easy affability of a man to whom goodbreeding had ceased to be a habit, and had become an instinct. Only oncedid anything pass between us bearing on the extraordinary relationshipwhich he had established with me--the relation of victor and victim, Iconsidered it. We had been left together for a few moments, and I saidas soon as the others were out of hearing distance:

"I got your message. "

"I know you did, " he replied. That was all. There was an awkward pause. It must be broken somehow. Any way out of the difficulty was better thanto continue in it. 

"Have you seen this?" I asked, handing Brande a copy of a novel which Ihad picked up at a railway bookstall. When I say that it was new andpopular, it will be understood that it was indecent. 

He looked at the title, and said indifferently: "Yes, I have seen it, and in order to appreciate this class of fiction fairly, I have eventried to read it. Why do you ask?"

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

"Advanced--advanced? I am afraid I do not comprehend. What do you meanby 'advanced'? And how could it be in my line. I presume you mean bythat, on my plane of thought?"

"By 'advanced, ' I mean up-to-date. What do you mean by it?"

"If I used the word at all, I should mean educated, evolved. Is thisevolved? Is it even educated? It is not always grammatical. It has nostyle. In motive, it ante-dates Boccaccio. "

"You disapprove of it. "

"Certainly not. "

"Then you approve it, notwithstanding your immediate condemnation?"

"By no means. I neither approve nor disapprove. It only represents aphase of humanity--the deliberate purpose of securing money or notorietyto the individual, regardless of the welfare of the community. There isnothing to admire in that. It would be invidious to blame it when thewhole social scheme is equally wrong and contemptible. By the way, whatinterest do you think the wares of any literary pander, of either sex, could possess for me, a student--even if a mistaken one--of science?"

"I did not think the book would possess the slightest interest for you, and I suppose you are already aware of that?"

"Ah no! My telepathic power is reserved for more serious purposes. Itsexercise costs me too much to expend it on trifles. In consequence I donot know why you mentioned the book. "

To this I answered candidly, "I mentioned it in order to get myself outof a conversational difficulty--without much success. "

Natalie was reserved with me at first. She devoted herself unnecessarilyto a boy named Halley who was staying with them. Grey had gone toLondon. His place was taken by a Mr. Rockingham, whom I did not like. There was something sinister in his expression, and he rarely spoke saveto say something cynical, and in consequence disagreeable. He had "seenlife, " that is, everything deleterious to and destructive of it. Hisconnection with Brande was clearly a rebound, the rebound of disgust. There was nothing creditable to him in that. My first impression of himwas thus unfavourable. My last recollection of him is a fitting item inthe nightmare which contains it. 

The youth Halley would have interested me under ordinary circumstances. His face was as handsome and refined as that of a pretty girl. Hisfigure, too, was slight and his voice effeminate. But there my ownadvantage, as I deemed it, over him ceased. Intellectually, he was apupil of Brande's who did his master credit. Having made this discoveryI did not pursue it. My mind was fixed too fast upon a definite issue tobe more than temporarily interested in the epigrams of a peachy-cheekedman of science. 

The afternoon was well advanced before I had an opportunity of speakingto Natalie. When it came, I did not stop to puzzle over a choice ofphrases. 

"I wish to speak to you alone on a subject of extreme importance to me, "I said hurriedly. "Will you come with me to the sea-shore? Your time, Iknow, is fully occupied. I would not ask this if my happiness did notdepend upon it. "

The philosopher looked on me with grave, kind eyes. But the woman'sheart within her sent the red blood flaming to her cheeks. It was thengiven to me to fathom the lowest depth of boorish stupidity I had eversounded. 

"I don't mean that, " I cried, "I would not dare--"

The blush on her cheek burnt deeper as she tossed her head proudly back, and said straight out, without any show of fence or shadow ofconcealment:

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

"I believe I have the right to claim that title, " I answered. 

"Then what you ask is granted. Come. " She put her hand boldly into mine. I grasped the slender fingers, saying:

"Yes, Natalie, some day I will prove to you that I am your friend. "

"The proof is unnecessary, " she replied, in a low sad voice. 

We started for the sea. Not a word was spoken on the way. Nor did oureyes meet. We were in a strange position. It was this: the man who hadvowed he was the woman's friend--who did not intend to shirk the proofof his promise, and never did gainsay it--meant to ask the woman, before the day was over, to clear herself of knowingly associating witha gang of scientific murderers. The woman had vaguely divined hispurpose, and could not clear herself. 

When we arrived at the shore we occupied ourselves inconsequently. Wehunted little fishes until Natalie's dainty boots were dripping. Weexamined quaint denizens of the shallow water until her gloves werespoilt. We sprang from rock to rock and evaded the onrush of the foamingwaves. We made aqueducts for inter-communication between deep pools. Webasked in the sunshine, and listened to the deep moan of the soundingsea, and the solemn murmur of the shells. We drank in the deep breath ofthe ocean, and for a brief space we were like happy children. 

The end came soon to this ephemeral happiness. It was only one of thosebright coins snatched from the niggard hand of Time which must always bepaid back with usurious charges. We paid with cruel interest. 

Standing on a flat rock side by side, I nerved myself to ask this girlthe same question I had asked her friend, Edith Metford, how much sheknew of the extraordinary and preposterous Society--as I still tried toconsider it--which Herbert Brande had founded. She looked so frank, sorefined, so kind, I hardly dared to put my brutal question to aninnocent girl, whom I had seen wince at the suffering of a maimed bird, and pale to the lips at the death-cry of a rabbit. This time there wasno possibility of untoward consequence in the question save tomyself--for surely the girl was safe from her own brother. And I myselfpreferred to risk the consequences rather than endure longer the thoughtthat she belonged voluntarily to a vile murder club. Yet the questionwould not come. A simple thing brought it out. Natalie, after lookingseaward silently for some minutes, said simply:

"How long are we to stand here, I wonder?"

"Until you answer this question. How much do you know about yourbrother's Society, which I have joined to my own intense regret?"

"I am sorry you regret having joined, " she replied gravely. 

"You would not be sorry, " said I, "if you knew as much about it as Ido, " forgetting that I had still no answer to my question, and that theextent of her knowledge was unknown to me. 

"I believe I do know as much as you. " There was a tremor in her voiceand an anxious pleading look in her eyes. This look maddened me. Whyshould she plead to me unless she was guilty? I stamped my foot upon therock without noticing that in so doing I kicked our whole collection ofshells into the water. 

There was something more to ask, but I stood silent and sullen. Thewoods above the beach were choral with bird-voices. They were hateful tome. The sea song of the tumbling waves was hideous. I cursed the yellowsunset light glaring on their snowy crests. A tiny hand was laid upon myarm. I writhed under its deadly if delicious touch. But I could not putit away, nor keep from turning to the sweet face beside me, to mark oncemore its mute appeal--now more than mere appeal; it was supplicationthat was in her eyes. Her red lips were parted as though they voiced anunspoken prayer. At last a prayer did 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 I think isright. At least, I am not selfish or cruel. Trust me yet a littlewhile. "

I looked at her one moment, and then with a sob I clasped her in myarms, and cried aloud:

"My God! to name murder and that angel face in one breath! Child, youhave been befooled. You know nothing. "

For a second she lingered in my embrace. Then she gently put away myarms, and looking up at me, said fearlessly but sorrowfully:

"I cannot lie--even for your love. I know _all_. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE WOKING MYSTERY. 

She knew all. Then she was a murderess--or in sympathy with murderers. My arms fell from her. I drew back shuddering. I dared not look in herlying eyes, which cried pity when her base heart knew no mercy. Surelynow I had solved the maddening puzzle which the character of this girlhad, so far, presented to me. Yet the true solution was as far from meas ever. Indeed, I could not well have been further from it than at thatmoment. 

As we walked back, Natalie made two or three unsuccessful attempts tolure me out of the silence which was certainly more eloquent on my partthan any words I could have used. Once she commenced:

"It is hard to explain--"

I interrupted her harshly. "No explanation is possible. "

On that she put her handkerchief to her eyes, and a half-suppressed sobshook her slight figure. Her grief distracted me. But what could I sayto assuage it?

At the hall door I stopped and said, "Good-bye. "

"Are you not coming in?"

There was a directness and emphasis in the question which did not escapeme. 

"I?" The horror in my own voice surprised myself, and assuredly did notpass without her notice. 

"Very well; good-bye. We are not exactly slaves of convention here, butyou are too far advanced in that direction even for me. This is yoursecond startling departure from us. I trust you will spare me thehumiliation entailed by the condescension of your further acquaintance. "

"Give me an hour!" I exclaimed aghast. "You do not make allowance forthe enigma in which everything is wrapped up. I said I was your friendwhen I thought you of good report. Give me an hour--only an hour--to saywhether I will stand by my promise, now that you yourself have claimedthat your report is not good but evil. For that is really what you haveprotested. Do I ask 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--anhour only if you care for my happiness. "

"Agreed, " said I. "I will take the hour. Discretion can have the year. "

So I left her. I could not go indoors. A roof would smother me. Give methe open lawns, the leafy woods, the breath of the summer wind. Away, then, to the silence of the coming night. For an hour leave me to mythoughts. Her unworthiness was now more than suspected. It was admitted. My misery was complete. But I would not part with her; I could not. Innocent or guilty, she was mine. I must suffer with her or for her. Theresolution by which I have abided was formed as I wandered lonelythrough the woods. 

When I reached my room that night I found a note from Brande. To receivea letter from a man in whose house I was a guest did not surprise me. Iwas past that stage. There was nothing mysterious in the letter, saveits conclusion. It was simply an invitation to a public meeting of theSociety, which was to be held on that day week in the hall in HanoverSquare, and the special feature in the letter--seeing that it did notvanish like the telegram, but remained an ordinary sheet of paper--layin its concluding sentence. This urged me to allow nothing to prevent myattendance. "You will perhaps understand thereafter that we are neitherpolitical plotters nor lunatics, as you have thought. "

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

As I lay sleepless in my bed, I recommenced that interminableintrospection which, heretofore, had been so barren of result. It waseasy to swear to myself that I would stand by Natalie Brande, that Iwould never desert her. But how should my action be directed in orderthat by its conduct I might prevail upon the girl herself to surrenderher evil associates? I knew that she regarded me with affection. And Iknew also that she would not leave her brother for my sake. Did shesympathise with his nefarious schemes, or was she decoyed into them likemyself?

Decoyed! That was it!

I sprang from the bed, beside myself with delight. Now I had not merelya loophole of escape from all these miseries; I had a royal highway. Fool, idiot, blind mole that I was, not to perceive sooner that easysolution of the problem! No wonder that she was wounded by my unworthydoubts. And she had tried to explain, but I would not listen! I threwmyself back and commenced to weave all manner of pleasant fancies roundthe salvation of this girl from her brother's baneful influence, and theannihilation of his Society, despite its occult powers, by mine ownvalour. The reaction was too great. Instead of constructing marvellouscounterplots, I fell sound asleep. 

Next day I found Natalie in a pleasant morning-room to which I wasdirected. She wore her most extreme--and, in consequence, mostexasperating--rational costume. When I entered the room she pushed achair towards me, in a way that suggested Miss Metford's worst manner, and lit a cigarette, for the express purpose, I felt, of annoying me. 

"I have come, " I said somewhat shamefacedly, "to explain. "

"And apologise?"

"Yes, to apologise. I made a hideous mistake. I have suffered for it asmuch as you could wish. "

"Wish you to suffer!" She flung away her cigarette. Her dark eyes openedwide in unassumed surprise. And that curious light of pity, which I hadso often wondered at, came into them. "I am very sorry if you havesuffered, " she said, with convincing earnestness. 

"How could I doubt you? Senseless fool that I was to suppose for onemoment that you approved of what you could not choose but know--"

At this her face clouded. 

"I am afraid you are still in error. What opinion have you formed whichalters your estimate of me?"

"The only opinion possible: that you have unwillingly learned the secretof your brother's Society; but, like myself--you see no way to--to--"

"To what purpose?"

"To destroy it. "

"I am not likely to attempt that. "

"No, it would be impossible, and the effort would cost your life. "

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

"And its actions?"

"They are inevitable. Therefore I approve also of its actions. I shallnot ask you to remain now, for I see that you are again horrified; as isnatural, considering your knowledge--or, pardon me for saying so, yourwant of knowledge. I shall be glad to see you after the lecture to whichyou are invited. You will know a little more then; not all, perhaps, butenough to shake your time-dishonoured theories of life--and death. "

I bowed, and left the room without a word. It was true, then, that shewas mad like the others, or worse than mad--a thousand times worse! Isaid farewell to Brande, as his guest, for the last time. ThenceforwardI would meet him as his enemy--his secret enemy as far as I couldpreserve my secrecy with such a man; his open enemy when the proper timeshould come. 

In the railway carriage I turned over some letters and papers which Ifound in my pockets, not with deliberate intention, but to while awaythe time. One scrap startled me. It was the sheet on which Brande hadwritten the Woking address, and on reading it over once more, a thoughtoccurred to me which I acted on as soon as possible. I could go toWoking and find out something about the man Delany. So long as myinquiries were kept within the limits of the strictest discretion, neither Brande nor any of his executive could blame me for seekingconvincing evidence of the secret power they claimed. 

On my arrival in London, I drove immediately to the London NecropolisCompany's station and caught the funeral train which runs to Brookwoodcemetery. With Saint Anne's Chapel as my base, I made short excursionshither and thither, and stood before a tombstone erected to the memoryof George Delany, late of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard. This was a clue which I could follow, so I hurried backto town and called on the superintendent of the department. 

Yes, I was told, Delany had belonged to the department. He had been avery successful officer in ferreting out foreign Anarchists andevil-doers. His last movement was to join a Society of harmless crankswho met in Hanover Square. No importance was attached to this in thedepartment. It could not have been done in the way of business, althoughDelany pretended that it was. He had dropped dead in the street as hewas leaving his cab to enter the office with information which must haveappeared to him important--to judge from the cabman's evidence as to hisintense excitement and repeated directions for faster driving. There wasan inquest and a post-mortem, but "death from natural causes" was theverdict. That was all. It was enough for me. 

I had now sufficient evidence, and was finally convinced that theSociety was as dangerous as it was demented. 

CHAPTER IX. 

CUI BONO?

When I arrived at the Society's rooms on the evening for which I had aninvitation, I found them pleasantly lighted. The various scientificdiagrams and instruments had been removed, and comfortable arm-chairswere arranged so that a free passage was available, not merely to eachrow, but to each chair. The place was full when I entered, and soonafterwards the door was closed and locked. Natalie Brande and EdithMetford were seated beside each other. An empty chair was on MissMetford's right. She saw me standing at the door and nodded toward theempty seat which she had reserved for me. When I reached it she made amovement as if to forestall me and leave me the middle chair. Ideprecated this by a look which was intentionally so severe that shedescribed it later as a malignant scowl. 

I could not at the moment seat myself voluntarily beside Natalie Brandewith the exact and final knowledge which I had learnt at Scotland Yardonly one week old. I could not do it just then, although I did not meanto draw back from what I had undertaken--to stand by her, innocent orguilty. But I must have time to become accustomed to the sensation whichfollowed this knowledge. Miss Metford's fugitive attempts atconversation pending the commencement of the lecture were disagreeableto me. 

There was a little stir on the platform. The chairman, in a few words, announced Herbert Brande. "This is the first public lecture, " he said, "which has been given since the formation of the Society, and inconsequence of the fact that a number of people not scientificallyeducated are present, the lecturer will avoid the more esoteric phasesof his subject, which would otherwise present themselves in histreatment of it, and confine himself to the commonplaces of scientificinsight. The title of the lecture is identical with that of ourSociety--_Cui Bono?_"

Brande came forward unostentatiously and placed a roll of paper on thereading-desk. I have copied the extracts which follow from thismanuscript. The whole essay, indeed, remains with me intact, but it istoo long--and it would be immaterial--to reproduce it all in thisnarrative. I cannot hope either to reproduce the weird impressiveness ofthe lecturer's personality, his hold over his audience, or my ownemotions in listening to this man--whom I had proved, not only from hisown confession, but by the strongest collateral evidence, to be acallous and relentless murderer--to hear him glide with sonorous voiceand graceful gesture from point to point in his logical and terribleindictment of suffering!--the futility of it, both in itself and that bywhich it was administered! No one could know Brande without findinginterest, if not pleasure, in his many chance expressions full ofcurious and mysterious thought. I had often listened to hisextemporaneous brain pictures, as the reader knows, but I had neverbefore heard him deliberately formulate a planned-out system of thought. And such a system! This is the gospel according to Brande. 

"In the verbiage of primitive optimism a misleading limitation is placedon the significance of the word Nature and its inflections. And themisconception of the meaning of an important word is as certain to leadto an inaccurate concept as is the misstatement of a premise to precedea false conclusion. For instance, in the aphorism, variously rendered, 'what is natural is right, ' there is an excellent illustration of themisapplication of the word 'natural. ' If the saying means that what isnatural is just and wise, it might as well run 'what is natural iswrong, ' injustice and unwisdom being as natural, _i. E. _, a part ofNature, as justice and wisdom. Morbidity and immorality are as naturalas health and purity. Not more so, but not less so. That 'Nature is madebetter by no mean but Nature makes that mean, ' is true enough. It isinevitably true. The question remains, in making that mean, has shereally made anything that tends toward the final achievement ofuniversal happiness? I say she has not. 

"The misuse of a word, it may be argued, could not prove a seriousobstacle to the growth of knowledge, and might be even interesting tothe student of etymology. But behind the misuse of the word 'natural'there is a serious confusion of thought which must be clarified beforethe mass of human intelligence can arrive at a just appreciation of theverities which surround human existence, and explain it. To this end itis necessary to get rid of the archaic idea of Nature as a paternal, providential, and beneficent protector, a successor to the 'specialprovidence, ' and to know the true Nature, bond-slave as she is of herown eternal persistence of force; that sole primary principle of whichall other principles are only correlatives; of which the existence ofmatter is but a cognisable evidence. 

"The optimist notion, therefore, that Nature is an all-wise designer, inwhose work order, system, wisdom, and beauty are prominent, does notfare well when placed under the microscope of scientific research. 

"Order?

"There is no order in Nature. Her armies are but seething mobs ofrioters, destroying everything they can lay hands on. 

"System?

"She has no system, unless it be a _reductio ad absurdum_, which onlyblunders on the right way after fruitlessly trying every otherconceivable path. She is not wise. She never fills a pail but she spillsa hogshead. All her works are not beautiful. She never makes amasterpiece but she smashes a million 'wasters' without a care. Thetheory of evolution--her gospel--reeks with ruffianism, nature-patentedand promoted. The whole scheme of the universe, all material existenceas it is popularly known, is founded upon and begotten of a system ofeverlasting suffering as hideous as the fantastic nightmares ofreligious maniacs. The Spanish Inquisitors have been regarded as themost unnatural monsters who ever disgraced the history of mankind. Yetthe atrocities of the Inquisitors, like the battlefields of Napoleon andother heroes, were not only natural, but they have their prototypes inevery cubic inch of stagnant water, or ounce of diseased tissue. Andstagnant water is as natural as sterilised water; and diseased tissue isas natural as healthy tissue. Wholesale murder is Nature's first law. She creates only to kill, and applies the rule as remorselessly to theunits in a star-drift as to the tadpoles in a horse-pond. 

"It seems a far cry from a star-drift to a horse-pond. It is so indistance and magnitude. It is not in the matter of constituents. Inultimate composition they are identical. The great nebula in Andromedais an aggregation of atoms, and so is the river Thames. The onlydifference between them is the difference in the arrangement andincidence of these atoms and in the molecular motion of which they arethe first but not the final cause. In a pint of Thames water, we knowthat there is bound up a latent force beside which steam andelectricity are powerless in comparison. To release that force it isonly necessary to apply the sympathetic key; just as the heated point ofa needle will explode a mine of gunpowder and lay a city in ashes. Thatforce is asleep. The atoms which could give it reality are at rest, or, at least, in a condition of _quasi_-rest. But in the stupendous mass ofincandescent gas which constitutes the nebula of Andromeda, every atomis madly seeking rest and finding none; whirling in raging haste, battling with every other atom in its field of motion, impinging uponothers and influencing them, being impinged upon and influenced by them. That awful cauldron exemplifies admirably the method of progressstimulated by suffering. It is the embryo of a new Sun and his planets. After many million years of molecular agony, when his season of fissionhad come, he will rend huge fragments from his mass and hurl themhelpless into space, there to grow into his satellites. In their turnthey may reproduce themselves in like manner before their true planetarylife begins, in which they shall revolve around their parent as solidspheres. Follow them further and learn how beneficent Nature deals withthem. 

"After the lapse of time-periods which man may calculate in figures, butof which his finite mind cannot form even a true symbolic conception, the outer skin of the planet cools--rests. Internal troubles prevail forlonger periods still; and these, in their unsupportable agony, bend andburst the solid strata overlying; vomit fire through their self-madeblow-holes, rear mountains from the depths of the sea, then dash them inpieces. 

"Time strides on austere. 

"The globe still cools. Life appears upon it. Then begins anew the oldstrife, but under conditions far more dreadful, for though it be foundedon atomic consciousness, the central consciousness of the heterogeneousaggregation of atoms becomes immeasurably more sentient and susceptiblewith every step it takes from homogenesis. This internecine war mustcontinue while any creature great or small shall remain alive upon theworld that bore it. 

"By slow degrees the mighty milestones in the protoplasmic march arepassed. Plants and animals are now busy, murdering and devouring eachother--the strong everywhere destroying the weak. New types appear. Oldtypes disappear. Types possessing the greatest capacity for murderprogress most rapidly, and those with the least recede and determine. The neolithic man succeeds the palĉolithic man, and sharpens the stoneaxe. Then to increase their power for destruction, men find it better tohunt in packs. Communities appear. Soon each community discovers thatits own advantage is furthered by confining its killing, in the main, tothe members of neighbouring communities. Nations early make the samediscovery. And at last, as with ourselves, there is established a racewith conscience enough to know that it is vile, and intelligence enoughto know that it is insignificant. [1] But what profits this? In thefulness of its time the race shall die. Man will go down into the pit, and all his thoughts will perish. The uneasy consciousness which, inthis obscure corner, has for a brief space broken the silence of theUniverse, will be at rest. Matter will know itself no longer. Life anddeath and love, stronger than death, will be as though they never hadbeen. Nor will anything that _is_ be better or be worse for all thatthe labour, genius, devotion, and suffering of man have striven throughcountless generations to effect. 

 [1] From this sentence to the end of the paragraph Brande draws freely, for the purpose of his own argument, on Mr. Balfour's "Naturalism and Ethics. "--_Ed. _

"The roaring loom of Time weaves on. The globe cools out. Lifemercifully ceases from upon its surface. The atmosphere and waterdisappear. It rests. It is dead. 

"But for its vicarious service in influencing more youthful planetswithin its reach, that dead world might as well be loosed at once fromits gravitation cable and be turned adrift into space. Its time has notyet come. It will not come until the great central sun of the system towhich it belongs has passed laboriously through all his stages ofstellar life and died out also. Then when that dead sun, according tothe impact theory, blunders across the path of another sun, dead andblind like himself, its time will come. The result of that impact willbe a new star nebula, with all its weary history before it; a history ofsuffering, in which a million years will not be long enough to write asingle page. 

"Here we have a scientific parallel to the hell of superstition whichmay account for the instinctive origin of the smoking flax and the firewhich shall never be quenched. We know that the atoms of which thehuman body is built up are atoms of matter. It follows that every atomin every living body will be present in some form at that final impactin which the solar system will be ended in a blazing whirlwind whichwill melt the earth with its fervent heat. There is not a molecule orcell in any creature alive this day which will not in its ultimateconstituents endure the long agony, lasting countless ĉons of centuries, wherein the solid mass of this great globe will be represented by a rushof incandescent gas, stupendous in itself, but trivial in comparisonwith the hurricane of flame in which it will be swallowed up and lost. 

"And when from that hell a new star emerges, and new planets in theirseason are born of him, and he and they repeat, as they must repeat, theceaseless, changeless, remorseless story of the universe, every atom inthis earth will take its place, and fill again functions identical withthose which it, or its fellow, fills now. Life will reappear, develop, determine, to be renewed again as before. And so on for ever. 

"Nature has known no rest. From the beginning--which never was--she hasbeen building up only to tear down again. She has been fabricatingpretty toys and trinkets, that cost her many a thousand years to forge, only to break them in pieces for her sport. With infinite painstakingshe has manufactured man only to torture him with mean miseries in theembryonic stages of his race, and in his higher development to maddenhim with intellectual puzzles. Thus it will be unto the end--which nevershall be. For there is neither beginning nor end to her unvaryingcycles. Whether the secular optimist be successful or unsuccessful inrealising his paltry span of terrestrial paradise, whether the pĉans hesings about it are prophetic dithyrambs or misleading myths, noChristian man need fear for his own immortality. That is well assured. In some form he will surely be raised from the dead. In some shape hewill live again. But, _Cui bono_?"

CHAPTER X. 

FORCE--A REMEDY. 

"Get me out of this, I am stifled--ill, " Miss Metford said, in a lowvoice to me. 

As we were hurrying from the room, Brande and his sister, who had joinedhim, met us. The fire had died out of his eyes. His voice had returnedto its ordinary key. His demeanour was imperturbable, sphinx-like. Imurmured some words about the eloquence of the lecture, but interruptedmyself when I observed his complete indifference to my remarks, andsaid, "Neither praise nor blame seems to affect you, Brande. "

"Certainly not, " he answered calmly. "You forget that there is nothingdeserving of either praise or blame. "

I knew I could not argue with him, so we passed on. Outside, I offeredto find a cab for Miss Metford, and to my surprise she allowed me to doso. Her self-assertive manner was visibly modified. She made no pretenceof resenting this slight attention, as was usual with her in similarcases. Indeed, she asked me to accompany her as far as our ways laytogether. But I felt that my society at the time could hardly proveenlivening. I excused myself by saying candidly that I wished to bealone. 

My own company soon became unendurable. In despair I turned into a musichall. The contrast between my mental excitement and the inanities of thestage was too acute, so this resource speedily failed me. Then I betookmyself to the streets again. Here I remembered a letter Brande had putinto my hand as I left the hall. It was short, and the tone was evenmore peremptory than his usual arrogance. It directed me to meet themembers of the Society at Charing Cross station at two o'clock on thefollowing day. No information was given, save that we were all going ona long journey; that I must set my affairs in such order that my absencewould not cause any trouble, and the letter ended, "Our experiments arenow complete. Our plans are matured. Do not fail to attend. "

"Fail to attend!" I muttered. "If I am not the most abject coward on theearth I will attend--with every available policeman in London. " Thepent-up wrath and impotence of many days found voice at last. "Yes, Brande, " I shouted aloud, "I will attend, and you shall be sorry forhaving invited me. "

"But I will not be sorry, " said Natalie Brande, touching my arm. 

"You here!" I exclaimed, in great surprise, for it was fully an hoursince I left the hall, and my movements had been at haphazard sincethen. 

"Yes, I have followed you for your own sake. Are you really going todraw back now?"

"I must. "

"Then I must go on alone. "

"You will not go on alone. You will remain, and your friends shall go onwithout you--go to prison without you, I mean. "

"Poor boy, " she said softly, to herself. "I wonder if I would havethought as I think now if I had known him sooner? I suppose I shouldhave been as other women, and their fools' paradise would have beenmine--for a little while. "

The absolute hopelessness in her voice pierced my heart. I pleadedpassionately with her to give up her brother and all the maniacs whofollowed him. For the time I forgot utterly that the girl, by her ownconfession, was already with them in sympathy as well as in deed. 

She said to me: "I cannot hold back now. And you? You know you arepowerless to interfere. If you will not come with me, I must go alone. But you may remain. I have prevailed on Herbert and Grey to permitthat. "

"Never, " I answered. "Where you go, I go. "

"It is not really necessary. In the end it will make no difference. Andremember, you still think me guilty. "

"Even so, I am going with you--guilty. "

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

"Arthur, I sometimes wish I had known you sooner. I might have beendifferent. " She was silent for a moment. Then she said piteously to me:"You will not fail me to-morrow?"

"No, I will not fail you to-morrow, " I answered. 

She pressed my hand gratefully, and left me without any explanation asto her movements in the meantime. 

I hurried to my hotel to set my affairs in order before joining Brande'sexpedition. The time was short for this. Fortunately there was not muchto do. By midnight I had my arrangements nearly complete. At the time, the greater part of my money was lying at call in a London bank. This Idetermined to draw in gold the next day. I also had at my banker's somescrip, and I knew I could raise money on that. My personal effects andthe mementos of my travels, which lay about my rooms in great confusion, must remain where they were. As to the few friends who still remained tome, I did not write to them. I could not well describe a project ofwhich I knew nothing, save that it was being carried out by dangerouslunatics, or, at least, by men who were dangerous, whether their madnesswas real or assumed. Nor could I think of any reasonable excuse forleaving England after so long an absence without a personal visit tothem. It was best, then, to disappear without a word. Having finished mydispositions, I changed my coat for a dressing-gown and sat down by thewindow, which I threw open, for the summer night was warm. I sat long, and did not leave my chair until the morning sun was shining on my face. 

When I got to Charing Cross next day, a group of fifty or sixty peoplewere standing apart from the general crowd and conversing withanimation. Almost the whole strength of the Society was assembled to seea few of us off, I thought. In fact, they were all going. About a dozenwomen were in the party, and they were dressed in the most extravagantrational costumes. Edith Metford was amongst them. I drew her aside, andapologised for not having called to wish her farewell; but she stoppedme. 

"Oh, it's all right; I am going too. Don't look so frightened. "

This was more than I could tolerate. She was far too good a girl to beallowed to walk blindfold into the pit I had digged for myself with fullknowledge. I said imperatively:

"Miss Metford, you shall not go. I warned you more than once--and warnedyou, I firmly believe, at the risk of my life--against these people. Youhave disregarded the advice which it may yet cost me dear to have givenyou. "

"To tell you the truth, " she said candidly, "I would not go an inch ifit were not for yourself. I can't trust you with them. You'd get intomischief. I don't mean with Natalie Brande, but the others; I don't likethem. So I am coming to look after you. "

"Then I shall speak to Brande. "

"That would be useless. I joined the Society this morning. "

This she said seriously, and without anything of the spirit of bravadowhich was one of her faults. That ended our dispute. We exchanged ameaning look as our party took their seats. There was now, at any rate, one human being in the Society to whom I could speak my mind. 

We travelled by special train. Our ultimate destination was a fishingvillage on the southern coast, near Brande's residence. Here we found asteam yacht of about a thousand tons lying in the harbour with steam up. 

The vessel was a beautiful model. Her lines promised great speed, butthe comfort of her passengers had been no less considered by her builderwhen he gave her so much beam and so high a freeboard. The ship'sfurniture was the finest I had ever seen, and I had crossed every greatocean in the world. The library, especially, was more suggestive of aroom in the British Museum than the batch of books usually carried atsea. But I have no mind to enter on a detailed description of abeautiful pleasure ship while my story waits. I only mention the generalcondition of the vessel in evidence of the fact which now struck me forthe first time--Brande must have unlimited money. His mode of life inLondon and in the country, notwithstanding his pleasant house, was inthe simplest style. From the moment we entered his special train atCharing Cross, he flung money about him with wanton recklessness. 

As we made our way through the crowd which was hanging about the quay, an unpleasant incident occurred. Miss Brande, with Halley andRockingham, became separated from Miss Metford and myself and went on infront of us. We five had formed a sub-section of the main body, and werekeeping to ourselves when the unavoidable separation took place. Aslight scream in front caused Miss Metford and myself to hurry forward. We found the others surrounded by a gang of drunken sailors, who hadstopped them. A red-bearded giant, frenzied with drink, had seizedNatalie in his arms. His abettor, a swarthy Italian, had drawn hisknife, and menaced Halley and Rockingham. The rest of the band lookedon, and cheered their chiefs. Halley was white to the lips; Rockinghamwas perfectly calm, or, perhaps, indifferent. He called for a policeman. Neither interfered. I did not blame Rockingham; he was a man of theworld, so nothing manly could be expected of him. But Halley's cowardicedisgusted me. 

I rushed forward and caught the Italian from behind, for his knife wasdangerous. Seizing him by the collar and waist, I swung him twice, andthen flung him from me with all my strength. He spun round two or threetimes, and then collided with a stack of timber. His head struck a beam, and he fell in his tracks without a word. The red-haired giant instantlyreleased Natalie and put up his hands. The man's attitude showed that heknew nothing of defence. I swept his guard aside, and struck himviolently on the neck close to the ear. I was a trained boxer; but I hadnever before struck a blow in earnest, or in such earnest, and I hardlyknew my own strength. The man went down with a grunt like a pole-axedox, and lay where he fell. To a drunken sailor lad, who seemed anxiousto be included in this matter, I dealt a stinging smack on the facewith my open hand that satisfied him straightway. The others did notmolest me. Turning from the crowd, I found Edith Metford looking at mewith blazing eyes. 

"Superb! Marcel, I am proud of you!" she cried. 

"Oh! Edith, how can you say that?" Natalie Brande exclaimed, stilltrembling. "Such dreadful violence! The poor men knew no better. "

"Poor fiddlesticks! It is well for you that Marcel is a man of violence. He's worth a dozen sheep like--"

"Like whom, Miss Metford?" Rockingham asked, glaring at her so viciouslythat I interposed with a hasty entreaty that all should hurry to theship. I did not trust the man. 

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

I hurried them on board. Brande welcomed us at the gangway. The vesselwas his own, so he was as much at home on the ship as in his countryhouse. I had an important letter to write, and very little time for thetask. It was not finished a moment too soon, for the moment the lastpassenger and the last bale of luggage was on board, the captain'stelegraph rang from the bridge, and the _Esmeralda_ steamed out to sea. My letter, however, was safe on shore. The land was low down upon thehorizon before the long summer twilight deepened slowly into night. Thenone by one the shadowy cliffs grew dim, dark, and disappeared. We saw nomore of England until after many days of gradually culminating horror. The very night which was our first at sea did not pass without a strangeadventure, which happened, indeed, by an innocent oversight. 

CHAPTER XI. 

MORITURI TE SALUTANT. 

We had been sitting on deck chairs smoking and talking for a couple ofhours after the late dinner, which was served as soon as the vessel waswell out to sea, when Brande came on deck. He was hailed withenthusiasm. This did not move him, or even interest him. I was carefulnot to join in the acclamations produced by his presence. He noticedthis, and lightly called me recalcitrant. I admitted the justice of theepithet, and begged him to consider it one which would always apply tome with equal force. He laughed at this, and contrasted my gloomy fearswith the excellent arrangements which he had made for my comfort. Iasked him what had become of Grey. I thought it strange that this manshould be amongst the absentees. 

"Oh, Grey! He goes to Labrador. "

"To Labrador! What takes him to Labrador?"

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

Presently there was a slight stir amongst the people, and the word waspassed round that Brande was about to undertake some interestingexperiment for the amusement of his guests. I hurried aft along withsome other men with whom I had been talking, and found Miss Brande andMiss Metford standing hand in hand. Natalie's face was very white, andthe only time I ever saw real fear upon it was at that moment. I thoughtthe incident on the quay had unnerved her more than was apparent at thetime, and that she was still upset by it. She beckoned to me, and when Icame to her she seized my hand. She was trembling so much her words werehardly articulate. Miss Metford was concerned for her companion'snervousness; but otherwise indifferent; while Natalie stood holding ourhands in hers like a frightened child awaiting the firing of a cannon. 

"He's going to let off something, a rocket, I suppose, " Miss Metfordsaid to me. "Natalie seems to think he means to sink the ship. "

"He does not mean to do so. He might, if an accident occurred. "

"Is he going to fire a mine?" I asked. 

"No, he is going to etherize a drop of water. " Natalie said this soseriously, we had no thought of laughter, incongruous as the cause ofher fears might seem. 

At that moment Brande addressed us from the top of the deckhouse, andexplained that, in order to illustrate on a large scale the most recentdiscovery in natural science, he was about to disintegrate a drop ofwater, at present encased in a hollow glass ball about the size of apea, which he held between his thumb and forefinger. An electric lightwas turned upon him so that we could all see the thing quite plainly. Heexplained that there was a division in the ball; one portion of itcontaining the drop of water, and the other the agent by which, when thedividing wall was eaten through by its action, the atoms of the waterwould be resolved into the ultimate ether of which they were composed. As the disintegrating agent was powerless in salt water, we might allfeel assured that no great catastrophe would ensue. 

Before throwing the glass ball overboard, a careful search for thelights of ships was made from east to west, and north to south. 

There was not a light to be seen anywhere. Brande threw the ball overthe side. We were going under easy steam at the time, but the moment heleft the deckhouse "full speed ahead" was rung from the bridge, and the_Esmeralda_ showed us her pace. She literally tore through the waterwhen the engines were got full on. 

Before we had gone a hundred yards a great cry arose. A little fleet ofFrench fishing-boats with no lights up had been lying very close to uson the starboard bow. There they were, boatfuls of men, who wavedcareless adieus to us as we dashed past. 

Brande was moved for a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders andmuttered, "It can't be helped now. " We all felt that these simple wordsmight mean much. To test their full portent I went over to him, Nataliestill holding my hand with trembling fingers. 

"Can't you do anything for them?" I asked. 

"You mean, go back and sink this ship to keep them company?"

"No; but warn them to fly. "

"It would be useless. In this breeze they could not sail a hundredyards in the time allowed, and three miles is the nearest point ofsafety. I could not say definitely, as this is the first time I haveever tried an experiment so tremendous; but I believe that if we evenslowed to half speed, it would be dangerous, and if we stopped, the_Esmeralda_ would go to the bottom to-night, as certainly as the sunwill rise to-morrow. "

Natalie moaned in anguish on hearing this. I said to her sternly:

"I thought you approved of all these actions?"

"This serves no purpose. These men may not even have a painless death, and the reality is more awful than I thought. "

Every face was turned to that point in the darkness toward which thefoaming wake of the _Esmeralda_ stretched back. Not a word more wasspoken until Brande, who was standing, watch in hand, beside the lightfrom the deckhouse, came aft and said:

"You will see the explosion in ten seconds. "

He could not have spoken more indifferently if the catastrophe he hadplanned was only the firing of a penny squib. 

Then the sea behind us burst into a flame, followed by the sound of anexplosion so frightful that we were almost stunned by it. A huge massof water, torn up in a solid block, was hurled into the air, and thereit broke into a hundred roaring cataracts. These, in the brilliantsearch light from the ship which was now turned upon them full, felllike cataracts of liquid silver into the seething cauldron of water thatraged below. The instant the explosion was over, our engines werereversed, and the _Esmeralda_ went full speed astern. The waves werestill rolling in tumultuous breakers when we got back. We might as wellhave gone on. 

The French fishing fleet had disappeared. 

I could not help saying to Brande before we turned in:

"You expect us, I suppose, to believe that the explosion was reallycaused by a drop of water?"

"Etherized, " he interrupted. "Certainly I do. You don't believe it--onwhat grounds?"

"That it is unbelievable. "

"Pshaw! You deny a fact because you do not understand it. Ignorance isnot evidence. "

"I say it is impossible. "

"You do not wish to believe it possible. Wishes are not proofs. "

Without pursuing the argument, I said to him:

"It is fortunate that the accident took place at sea. There will be noinquests. "

"Oh! I am sorry for the accident. As for the men, they might have had aworse fate. It is better than living in life-long misery as they do. Besides, both they and the fishes that will eat them will soon benumbered amongst the things that have been. "

CHAPTER XII. 

"NO DEATH--SAVE IN LIFE. "

For some days afterwards our voyage was uneventful, and the usualshipboard amusements were requisitioned to while away the tedious hours. The French fishing fleet was never mentioned. We got through the Baywith very little knocking about, and passed the Rock without calling. Iwas not disappointed, for there was slight inducement for going ashore, oppressed as I was with the ever-present incubus of dread. At intervalsthis feeling became less acute, but only to return, strengthened by itsshort absences. After a time my danger sense became blunted. The nervoussystem became torpid under continuous stress, and refused to pass on thesensations with sufficient intensity to the brain; or the weary brainwas asleep at its post and did not heed the warnings. I could think nomore. 

And this reminds me of something which I must tell about young Halley. For several days after the voyage began, the boy avoided me. I knew hisreason for doing this. I myself did not blame him for his want ofphysical courage, but I was glad that he himself was ashamed of it. 

Halley came to me one morning and said:

"I wish to speak to you, Marcel. I _must_ speak to you. It is about thatmiserable episode on the evening we left England. I acted like a cad. Therefore I must be a cad. I only want to tell you that I despise myselfas much as you can. And that I envy you. I never thought that I shouldenvy a man simply because he had no nervous system. "

"Who is this man without a nervous system of whom you speak?" I askedcoldly. I was not sorry that I had an opportunity of reading him alesson which might be placed opposite the many indignities which hadbeen put upon me, in the form mainly of shoulder shrugs, browelevations, and the like. 

"You, of course. I mean no offence--you are magnificent. I am honest insaying that I admire you. I wish I was like you in height, weight, muscle--and absence of nervous system. "

"You would keep your own brain, I suppose?" I asked. 

"Yes, I would keep that. "

"And I will keep my own nervous system, " I replied. "And the differencebetween mine and yours is this: that whereas my own danger sense is, orwas, as keen as your own, I have my reserve of nerve force--or hadit--which might be relied on to tide me over a sudden emergency. Thisreserve you have expended on your brain. There are two kinds of cowards;the selfish coward who cares for no interest save his own; the unselfishcoward who cares nothing for himself, but who cannot face a dangerbecause he dare not. And there are two kinds of brave men; the nervelessman you spoke of, who simply faces danger because he does not appreciateit, and the man who faces danger because, although he fears it he daresit. I have no difficulty in placing you in this list. "

"You place me--"

"A coward because you cannot help it. You are merely out of harmony withyour environment. You ought to bring a supply of 'environment' aboutwith you, seeing that you cannot manufacture it off-hand like myself. Iwish to be alone. Good-day. "

"Before I go, Marcel, I will say this. " There were tears in his eyes. "These people do not really 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 tothem some day. "

With that I turned away from him, although I felt that he would havegladly stayed longer with me. 

While the _Esmeralda_ was sweeping over the long swells of theMediterranean, I heard Brande lecture for the second time. It was afitting interlude between his first and third addresses. I mightclassify them thus--the first, critical; the second, constructive; thethird, executive. His third speech was the last he made in the world. 

We were assembled in the saloon. It would have been pleasanter on theupper deck, owing to the heat, but the speaker could not then have beeneasily heard in the noise of the wind and waves. I could scarcelybelieve that it was Brande who arose to speak, so changed was hisexpression. The frank scepticism, which had only recently degeneratedinto a cynicism, still tempered with a half kindly air of easysuperiority, was gone. In its place there was a look of concentratedand relentless purpose which dominated the man himself and all who sawhim. He began in forcible and direct sentences, with only a faintlyreminiscent eloquence which was part of himself, and from which he couldnot without a conscious effort have freed his style. But the wholebearing of the man had little trace in it of the dilettante academicianwhom we all remembered. 

"When I last addressed this Society, " he began, "I laboured under adifficulty in arriving at ultimate truth which was of my ownmanufacture. I presupposed, as you will remember, the indestructibilityof the atom, and, in logical consequence I was bound to admit theconservation of suffering, the eternity of misery. But on that eveningmany of my audience were untaught in the rudiments of ultimate thought, and some were still sceptical of the _bona fides_ of our purpose, andour power to achieve its object. To them, in their then ineptitude, whatI shall say now would have been unintelligible. For in the same way thatthe waves of light or sound exceeding a certain maximum can not betransferred to the brain by dull eyes and ears, my thought pulsationswould have escaped those auditors by virtue of their ownirresponsiveness. To-night I am free from the limitation which I thensuffered, because there are none around me now who have not sufficientknowledge to grasp what I shall present. 

"You remember that I traced for you the story of evolution in itsjourney from the atom to the star. And I showed you that the hypothesisof the indestructibility of the atom was simply a creed of cruelty writlarge. I now proceed on the lines of true science to show you how thathypothesis is false; that as the atom _is_ destructible--as you haveseen by our experiments (the last of which resulted in a climax notintended by me)--the whole scheme of what is called creation falls topieces. As the atom was the first etheric blunder, so the materialUniverse is the grand etheric mistake. 

"In considering the marvellous and miserable succession of errorsresulting from the meretricious atomic remedy adopted by the ether tocure its local sores, it must first be said of the ether itself thatthere is too much of it. Space is not sufficient for it. Thus, theparticles of ether--those imponderable entities which vibrate through ablock of marble or a disc of hammered steel with only a dulled, not anannihilated motion, are by their own tumultuous plenty packed closertogether than they wish. I say wish, for if all material consciousnessand sentiency be founded on atomic consciousness, then in its turnatomic consciousness is founded upon, and dependent on, ethericconsciousness. These particles of ether, therefore, when too closelyimpinged upon by their neighbours, resent the impact, and in doing soinitiate etheric whirlwinds, from whose vast perturbances stupendousdrifts set out. In their gigantic power these avalanches crush theparticles which impede them, force the resisting medium out of itsnormal stage, destroy the homogeneity of its constituents, and mass theminto individualistic communities whose vibrations play with greaterfreedom when they synchronise. The homogeneous etheric tendencies recedeand finally determine. 

"Behold a miracle! An atom is born!

"By a similar process--which I may liken to that of putting off an evilday which some time must be endured--the atoms group themselves intomolecules. In their turn the molecules go forth to war, capturing orbeing captured; the vibrations of the slaves always being forced tosynchronise with those of their conquerors. The nucleus of the gas of aprimal metal is now complete, and the foundation of a solarsystem--paltry molecule of the Universe as it is--is laid. Thereafter, the rest is easily followed. It is described in your school books, andmust not occupy me now. 

"But one word I will interpolate which may serve to explain a curiousand interesting human belief. You are aware of how, in times past, menof absolutely no scientific insight held firmly to the idea that anelixir of life and a philosopher's stone might be discovered, and thatthese two objects were nearly always pursued contemporaneously. That isto my mind an extraordinary example of the force of atomicconsciousness. The idea itself was absolutely correct; but the men whofollowed it had slight knowledge of its unity, and none whatever of itsproper pursuit. They would have worked on their special lines toeternity before advancing a single step toward their object. And thisbecause they did not know what life was, and death was, and what themetals ultimately signified which they, blind fools, so unsuccessfullytried to transmute. But we know more than they. We have climbed no doubtin the footholds they have carved, and we have gained the summit theyonly saw in the mirage of hope. For we know that there is no life, nodeath, no metals, no matter, no emotions, no thoughts; but that allthat we call by these names is only the ether in various conditions. Life! I could live as long as this earth will submit to human existenceif I had studied that paltry problem. Metals! The ship in which you sailwas bought with gold manufactured in my crucibles. 

"The unintelligent--or I should say the grossly ignorant--have long heldover the heads of the pioneers of science these two great charges: Noman has ever yet transmuted a metal; no man has ever yet proved theconnecting link between organic and inorganic life. I say _life_, for Itake it that this company admits that a slab of granite is as much aliveas any man or woman I see before me. But I have manufactured gold, and Icould have manufactured protoplasm if I had devoted my life to thatobject. My studies have been almost wholly on the inorganic plane. Hencethe 'philosopher's stone' came in my way, but not the 'elixir of life. 'The molecules of protoplasm are only a little more complex than themolecules of hydrogen or nitrogen or iron or coal. You may fuse iron, vaporise water, intermix the gases; but the molecules of all changelittle in such metamorphosis. And you may slay twenty thousand men atWaterloo or Sedan, or ten thousand generations may be numbered with thedust, and not an ounce of protoplasm lies dead. All molecules are merelyarrangements of atoms made under different degrees of pressure and ofdifferent ages. And all atoms are constructed of identicalconstituents--the ether, as I have said. Therefore the ether, which wasfrom the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, which is the sameyesterday, to-day, and for ever, is the origin of force, of matter, oflife. 

"_It is alive!_

"Its starry children are so many that the sands of the sea-shore may notbe used as a similitude for their multitude; and they extend so far thatdistance may not be named in relation to them. They are so high above usand so deep below us that there is neither height nor depth in them. There is neither east nor west in them, nor north and south in them. Noris there beginning or end to them. Time drops his scythe and standsappalled before that dreadful host. Number applies not to its eternalmultitudes. Distance is lost in boundless space. And from all the starsthat stud the caverns of the Universe, there swells this awful chorus:Failure! failure and futility! And the ether is to blame!

"Heterogeneous suffering is more acute than homogeneous, because theagony is intensified by being localised; because the comfort of thecomfortable is purchasable only by the multiplied misery of themiserable; because aristocratic leisure requires that the poor should bealways with it. There is, therefore, no gladness without itsoverbalancing sorrow. There is no good without intenser evil. There isno death save in life. 

"Back, then, from this ill-balanced and unfair long-suffering, thisinsufficient existence. Back to Nirvana--the ether! And I will lead theway. 

"The agent I will employ has cost me all life to discover. It willrelease the vast stores of etheric energy locked up in the huge atomicwarehouse of this planet. I shall remedy the grand mistake only to adegree which it would be preposterous to call even microscopic; but whenI have done what I can, I am blameless for the rest. In due season thewhole blunder will be cured by the same means that I shall use, and allthe hideous experiment will be over, and everlasting rest or_quasi_-rest will supersede the magnificent failure of materialexistence. This earth, at least, and, I am encouraged to hope, the wholesolar system, will by my instrumentality be restored to the ether fromwhich it never should have emerged. Once before, in the history of oursystem, an effort similar to mine was made, unhappily without success. 

"This time we shall not fail!"

A low murmur rose from the audience as the lecturer concluded, and ahushed whisper asked:

"Where was that other effort made?"

Brande faced round momentarily, and said quietly but distinctly:

"On the planet which was where the Asteroids are now. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

MISS METFORD'S PLAN. 

We coaled at Port Said like any ordinary steamer. Although I had morethan once made the Red Sea voyage, I had never before taken theslightest interest in the coaling of the vessel on which I was apassenger. This time everything was different. That which interested mebefore seemed trivial now. And that which had before seemed trivial wasnow absorbing. I watched the coaling--commonplace as the spectaclewas--with vivid curiosity. The red lights, the sooty demons at work, every bag of coals they carried, and all the coal dust clouds theycreated, were fitting episodes in a voyage such as ours. We took anenormous quantity of coal on board. I remained up most of the night in aframe of mind which I thought none might envy. I myself would have madelight of it had I known what was still in store for the _Esmeralda_ andher company. It was nearly morning when I turned in. When I awoke wewere nearing the Red Sea. 

On deck, the conversation of our party was always eccentric, but thismust be said for it: there was sometimes a scintillating brilliance init that almost blinded one to its extreme absurdity. The show of highspirits which was very general was, in the main, unaffected. For therest it was plainly assumed. But those who assumed their parts did sowith a histrionic power which was all the more surprising when it isremembered that the origin of their excellent playing was centred intheir own fears. I preserved a neutral attitude. I did not venture onany overt act of insubordination. That would have only meant mydestruction, without any counter-balancing advantage in the way ofbaulking an enterprise in which I was a most unwilling participator. Andto pretend what I did not feel was a task which I had neither stomach toundertake nor ability to carry out successfully. In consequence I keptmy own counsel--and that of Edith Metford. 

Brande was the most easily approached maniac I had ever met. Hisaffability continued absolutely consistent. I took advantage of this tosay to him on a convenient opportunity: "Why did you bring these peoplewith you? They must all be useless, and many of them little better thana nuisance!"

"Marcel, you are improving. Have you attained the telepathic power? Youhave read my mind. " This was said with a pleasant smile. 

"I can not read your mind, " I answered; "I only diagnose. "

"Your diagnosis is correct. I answer you in a sentence. They are allsympathetic, and human sympathy is necessary to me until my purpose isfulfilled. "

"You do not look to me for any measure of this sympathy, I trust?"

"I do not. You are antipathetic. "

"I am. "

"But necessary, all the same. "

"So be it, until the proper time shall come. "

"It will never come, " Brande said firmly. 

"We shall see, " I replied as firmly as himself. 

Next evening as we were steaming down the blue waters--deep blue theyalways seemed to me--of the Red Sea, I was sitting on the foredecksmoking and trying to think. I did not notice how the time passed. Whatseemed to me an hour at most, must have been three or four. With theexception of the men of the crew who were on duty, I was alone, for theheat was intense, and most of our people were lying in their cabinsprostrated in spite of the wind-sails which were spread from every portto catch the breeze. My meditations were as usual gloomy and despondent. They were interrupted by Miss Metford. She joined me so noiselessly thatI was not aware of her presence until she laid her hand on my arm. Istarted at her touch, but she whispered a sharp warning, so full ofsuppressed emotion that I instantly recovered a semblance of unconcern. 

The girl was very white and nervous. This contrast from her usualequanimity was disquieting. She clung to me hysterically as she gasped:

"Marcel, it is a mercy I have found you alone, and that there is onesane man in this shipful of lunatics. "

"I am afraid you are not altogether right, " I said, as I placed a seatfor her close to mine. "I can hardly be sane when I am a voluntarypassenger on board this vessel. "

"Do you really think they mean what they say?" she asked hurriedly, without noticing my remark. 

"I really think they have discovered the secret of extraordinary naturalforces, so powerful and so terrible that no one can say what they may ormay not accomplish. And that is the reason I begged you not to come onthis voyage. "

"What was the good of asking me not to come without giving me somereason?"

"Had I done so, they might have killed you as they have done othersbefore. "

"You might have chanced that, seeing that it will probably end thatway. "

"And they would certainly have killed me. "

"Ah!"

I wondered at the sudden intensity of the girl's sharp gasp when I saidthis, and marvelled too, how she, who had always been so mannish, nestled close to me and allowed her head to sink down on my shoulder. Ipitied the strong-willed, self-reliant nature which had given way undersome strain of which I had yet to be told. So I stooped and touched hercheek with my lips in a friendly way, at which she looked up to me withhalf-closed eyes, and whispered in a voice strangely soft and womanishfor her:

"If they must kill us, I wish they would kill us now. "

I stroked her soft cheek gently, and urged a less hopeless view. "Evenif the worst come, we may as well live as long as we can. "

Whereupon to my surprise she, having shot one quick glance into my eyes, put my arm away and drew her chair apart from mine. Her head was turnedaway from me, but I could not but notice that her bosom rose and fellswiftly. Presently she faced round again, lit a cigarette, put her handsin the pocket of her jacket, and her feet on another chair, and saidindifferently:

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

This sudden change in her manner surprised me. I knew I had no art indealing with women, so I let it pass without comment, and looked out atthe glassy sea. 

After some minutes of silence, the girl spoke to me again. 

"Do you know anything of the actual plans of these maniacs?"

"No. I only know their preposterous purpose. "

"Well, I know how it is to be done. Natalie was restless last night--youknow that we share the same cabin--and she raved a bit. I kept her inher berth by sheer force, but I allowed her to talk. "

This was serious. I drew my chair close to Miss Metford's and whispered, "For heaven's sake, speak low. " Then I remembered Brande's power, andwrung my hands in helpless impotence. "You forget Brande. At this momenthe is taking down every word we say. "

"He's doing nothing of the sort. "

"But you forget--"

"I don't forget. By accident I put morphia in the tonic he takes, and heis now past telepathy for some hours at least. He's sound asleep. Isuppose if I had not done it by accident he would have known what I wasdoing, and so have refused the medicine. Anyhow, accident or noaccident, I have done it. "

"Thank God!" I cried. 

"And this precious disintegrating agent! They haven't it with them, itseems. To manufacture it in sufficient quantity would be impossible inany civilised country without fear of detection or interruption. Brandehas the prescription, formula--what do you call it?--and if you couldget the paper and--"

"Throw it overboard!"

"Rubbish! They would work it all out again. "

"What then?" I whispered. 

"Steal the paper and--wouldn't it do to put in an extra _x_ or _y_, orstick a couple of additional figures into any suitable vacancy? Don'tyou think they'd go on with the scheme and--"

"And?"

"And make a mess of it!"

"Miss Metford, " I said, rising from my chair, "I mean Metford, I knowyou like to be addressed as a man--or used to like it. "

"Yes, I used to, " she assented coldly. 

"I am going to take you in my arms and kiss you. "

"I'm hanged if you are!" she exclaimed, so sharply that I was suddenlyabashed. My intended familiarity and its expression appeared grotesque, although a few minutes before she was so friendly. But I could not wasteprecious time in studying a girl's caprices, so I asked at once:

"How can I get this paper?"

"I said _steal_ it, if you recollect. " Her voice was now hard, almostharsh. "You can get it in Brande's cabin, if you are neither afraid norjealous. "

"I am not much afraid, and I will try it. What do you mean by jealous?"

"I mean, would you, to save Natalie Brande--for they will certainlysucceed in blowing themselves up, if nobody else--consent to hermarrying another man, say that young lunatic Halley, who is alwaysdangling after her when you are not?"

"Yes, " I answered, after some thought. For Halley's attentions toNatalie had been so marked, the plainly inconsequent mention of him inthis matter did not strike me. "If that is necessary to save her, ofcourse 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 precious passengers at the bottom ofthe sea first. "

"Ah! but you are not a man. "

"Right! and what's more, I'm glad of it. " Then looking down at therational part of her costume, 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, dressed hurriedly, drew on a pairof felt slippers, and put a revolver in my pocket. It was then time toput Edith Metford's proposal to the proof, and she would be waiting forme on deck to hear whether I had succeeded in it. We had parted a coupleof hours before on somewhat chilling terms. I had agreed to follow hersuggestion, but I could not trouble my tired brain by guesses at thecause of her moods. 

It was very dark. There was only enough light to enable me to find myway along the corridor, off which the state-rooms occupied by Brande andhis immediate lieutenants opened. All the sleepers were restless fromthe terrible heat. As I stole along, a muffled word, a sigh, or amovement in the berths, made me pause at every step with a beatingheart. Having listened till all was quiet, I moved on again noiselessly. I was almost at the end of the corridor. So intent had I been onpreserving perfect silence, it did not sooner occur to me that I wassearching for any special door. I had forgotten Brande's number!

I could no more think of it than one can recall the name of ahalf-forgotten acquaintance suddenly encountered in the street. It mighthave been fourteen, or forty-one; or a hundred and fifty. Every numberwas as likely as it was unlikely. I tried vainly to concentrate my mind. The result was nothing. The missing number gave no clue. To enter thewrong room in that ship at that hour meant death for me. Of that I wascertain. To leave the right room unentered gave away my first chance inthe unequal battle with Brande. Then, as I knew that my first chancewould probably be my last, if not availed of, I turned to the nearestdoor and quietly tried the handle. The door was not locked. I enteredthe state-room. 

"What do you want?" It was Halley's voice that came from the berth. 

"Pardon me, " I whispered, "a mistake. The heat, you know. Went on deck, and have blundered into your room. "

"Oh, all right. Who are you?"

"Brande. "

"Good-night. You did not blunder far;" this sleepily. 

I went out and closed the door quietly. I had gained something. I waswithin one door of my destination, for I knew that Halley was berthedbetween Rockingham and Brande. But I did not know on which side Brande'sroom was, and I dared not ask. I tried the next door going forward. Itopened like the other. I went in. 

"Hallo there!" This time no sleepy or careless man challenged me. It wasRockingham's voice. 

"May I not enter my own room?" I whispered. 

"This is not your room. You are?" Rockingham sprang up in his berth, butbefore he could leave it I was upon him. 

"I am Arthur Marcel. And this iron ring which I press against your leftear is the muzzle of my revolver. Speak, move, breathe above yournatural breath and your brains go through that porthole. Now, loose yourhold of my arm and come with me. "

"You fool!" hissed Rockingham. "You dare not fire. You know you darenot. "

He was about to call out, but my left hand closed on his throat, and agurgling gasp was all that issued from him. 

I laid down the revolver and turned the ear of the strangling man closeto my mouth. I had little time to think; but thought flies fast whensuch deadly peril menaces the thinker as that which I must face if Ifailed to make terms with the man who was in my power. I knew thatnotwithstanding his intensely disagreeable nature, if he gave hispromise either by spoken word or equivalent sign, I could depend uponhim. There were no liars in Brande's Society. But the word I could nottrust him to say. I must have his sign. I whispered:

"You know I do not wish to kill you. I shall never have another happyday if you force me to it. I have no choice. You must yield or die. Ifyou will yield and stand by me rather than against me in what shallfollow, choose life by taking your right hand from my wrist and touchingmy left shoulder. I will not hurt you meanwhile. If you choose death, touch me with your left. "

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

He had chosen death. 

So the man was only a physical coward--or perhaps he had only made achoice of alternatives. 

I said slowly and in great agony, "May God have mercy on your soul--andmine!" on which the muscles in my left arm stiffened. The big biceps--anheirloom of my athletic days--thickened up, and I turned my eyes awayfrom the dying face, half hidden by the darkness. His struggles werevery terrible, but with my weight upon his lower limbs, and my graspupon his windpipe, that death-throe was as silent as it was horrible. The end came slowly. I could not bear the horror of it longer. I mustfinish it and be done with it. I put my right arm under the man'sshoulders and raised the upper part of his body from the berth. Then adesperate wrench with my left arm, and there was a dull crack like thesnapping of a dry stick. It was over. Rockingham's neck was broken. 

I wiped away the bloody froth that oozed from the gaping mouth, andtried to compose decently the contorted figure. I covered the face. Then I started on my last mission, for now I knew the door. I hadbought the knowledge dearly, and I meant to use it for my own purpose, careless of what violence might be necessary to accomplish my end. 

When I entered Brande's state-room I found the electric light full on. He was seated at a writing-table with his head resting on his arms, which hung crossways over the desk. The sleeper breathed so deeply itwas evident that the effect of the morphia was still strong upon him. One hand clutched a folded parchment. His fingers clasped itnervelessly, and I had only to force them open one by one in order towithdraw the manuscript. As I did this, he moaned and moved in hischair. I had no fear of his awaking. My hand shook as I unfolded theparchment which I unconsciously handled as carefully as though the thingitself were as deadly as the destruction which might be wrought by itsdirection. 

To me the whole document was a mass of unintelligible formulĉ. My rustyuniversity education could make nothing of it. But I could not wastetime in trying to solve the puzzle, for I did not know what moment someother visitor might arrive to see how Brande fared. I first examinedwith a pocket microscope the ink of the manuscript, and then making ascratch with 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 had been left vacant, I put 1 infront of the figures which followed. I had no reason for making thisparticular alteration, save that the figure 1 is more easily forged thanany other, and the forgery is consequently more difficult to detect. Myadditions, when the ink was dry, could only have been discovered by onewho was informed that the document had been tampered with. It wasprobable that a drawer which stood open with the keys in the lock wasthe place where Brande kept this paper; where he would look for it onawaking. I locked it in the drawer and put the keys into his pocket. 

There was something still to do with the sleeping man, whose braincompassed such marvellous powers. His telepathic faculty must bedestroyed. I must keep him seriously ill, without killing him. As longas he remained alive his friends would never question his calculations, and the fiasco which was possible under any circumstances would then beassured. I had with me an Eastern drug, which I had bought from anIndian fakir once in Murzapoor. The man was an impostor, whose tricksdid not impose on me. But the drug, however he came by it, was reliable. It was a poison which produced a mild form of cerebritis that dulled butdid not deaden the mental powers. It acted almost identically whetheradministered sub-cutaneously or, of course in a larger dose, internally. I brought it home with the intention of giving it to a friend who wasinterested in vivisection. I did not think that I myself should be thefirst and last to experiment with it. It served my purpose well. 

The moment I pricked his skin, Brande moved in his seat. My hand was onhis throat. He nestled his head down again upon his arms, and drew adeep breath. Had he moved again that breath would have been his last. Ihad been so wrought upon by what I had already done that night, I wouldhave taken his life without the slightest hesitation, if the sacrificeseemed necessary. 

When my operation was over, I left the room and moved silently along thecorridor till I came to the ladder leading to the deck. Edith Metfordwas waiting for me as we had arranged. She was shivering in spite of theawful heat. 

"Have you done it?" she whispered. 

"I have, " I answered, without saying how much I had done. "Now you mustretire--and rest easy. The formula won't work. I have put both it andBrande himself out of gear. "

"Thank God!" she gasped, and then a sudden faintness came over her. Itpassed quickly, and as soon as she was sufficiently restored, I beggedher to go below. She pleaded that she could not sleep, and asked me toremain with her upon the deck. "It would be absurd to suppose thateither of us could sleep this night, " she very truly said. On which Iwas obliged to tell her plainly that she must go below. I had more todo. 

"Can I help?" she asked anxiously. 

"No. If you could, I would ask you, for you are a brave girl. I havesomething now to get through which is not woman's work. "

"Your work is my work, " she answered. "What is it?"

"I have to lower a body overboard without anyone observing me. "

There was no time for discussion, so I told her at once, knowing thatshe would not give way otherwise. She started at my words, but saidfirmly:

"How will you do that unobserved by the 'watch'? Go down and bring upyour--bring it up. I will keep the men employed. " She went forward, andI turned again to the companion. 

When I got back to Rockingham's cabin I took a sheet of paper and wrote, "Heat--Mad!" making no attempt to imitate his writing. I simply scrawledthe words with a rough pen in the hope that they would pass as a messagefrom a man who was hysterical when he wrote them. Then I turned to theberth and took up the body. It was not a pleasant thing to do. But itmust be done. 

I was a long time reaching the deck, for the arms and legs swung to andfro, and I had to move cautiously lest they should knock against thewoodwork I had to pass. I got it safely up and hurried aft with it. Edith, I knew, would contrive to keep the men on watch engaged until Ihad disposed of my burden. I picked up a coil of rope and made it fastto the dead man's neck. Taking one turn of the rope round a boat-davit, I pushed the thing over the rail. I intended to let go the rope themoment the weight attached to it was safely in the sea, and so loweredaway silently, paying out the line without excessive strain owing to thesupport of the davit round which I had wound it. I had not to wait solong as that, for just as the body was dangling over the foaming wake ofthe steamer, a little streak of moonlight shot out from behind a bank ofcloud and lighted the vessel with a sudden gleam. I was startled bythis, and held on, fearing that some watching eye might see my curiousmovements. For a minute I leaned over the rail and watched the track ofthe steamer as though I had come on deck for the air. There was a quickrush near the vessel's quarter. Something dark leaped out of the water, and there was a sharp snap--a crunch. The lower limbs were gone in thejaws of a shark. I let go the rope in horror, and the body droppedsplashing into that hideous fishing-ground. Sick to death I turnedaway. 

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

We hurried down the companion as fast as we dared, and listened to thecomments of the watch above. They were soon satisfied that nothing ofimportance had occurred, and resumed their stations. 

Before we parted on that horrible night, Edith said in a tremblingvoice, "You have done your work like a brave man. "

"Say rather, like a forger and murderer, " I answered. 

"No, " she maintained. "Many men before you have done much worse in agood cause. You are not a forger. You are a diplomat. You are not amurderer. You are a hero. "

But I, being new to this work of slaughter and deception, could onlydeprecate her sympathy and draw away. I felt that my very presence nearher was pollution. I was unclean, and I told her that I was so. Whereupon, without hesitation, she put her arms round my neck, and saidclinging closely to me:

"You are not unclean--you are free from guilt. And--Arthur--I will kissyou now. "

CHAPTER XV. 

"IF NOT TOO LATE!"

When I came on deck next morning the coast of Arabia was rising, a thinthread of hazy blue between the leaden grey of the sea and the soft greyof the sky. The morning was cloudy, and the blazing sunlight was veiledin atmospheric gauze. I had hardly put my foot on deck when NatalieBrande ran to meet me. I hung back guiltily. 

"I thought you would never come. There is dreadful news!" she cried. 

I muttered some incoherent words, to which she did not attend, but wenton hurriedly:

"Rockingham has thrown himself overboard in a hysterical fit, brought onby the heat. The sailors heard the splash--"

"I know they did. " This escaped me unawares, and I instantlyprevaricated, "I have been told about that. "

"Do you know that Herbert is ill?"

I could have conscientiously answered this question affirmatively also. Her sudden sympathy for human misadventure jarred upon me, as it haddone once before, when I thought of the ostensible object of the cruise. I said harshly:

"Then Rockingham is at rest, and your brother is on the road to it. " Itwas a brutal speech. It had a very different effect to that which Iintended. 

"True, " she said. "But think of the awful consequences if, now thatRockingham is gone, Herbert should be seriously ill. "

"I do think of it, " I said stiffly. Indeed, I could hardly keep fromadding that I had provided for it. 

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

"You are nursing your brother?" I said with assumed carelessness. 

"Of course. "

"What is Percival giving him?"

She described the treatment, and as this was exactly what I myself wouldhave prescribed to put my own previous interference right, I promised tocome at once, saying:

"It is quite evident that Percival does not understand the case. "

"That is exactly what I thought, " Natalie agreed, leading me to Brande'scabin. I found his vitality lower than I expected, and he was veryimpatient. The whole purpose of his life was at stake, dependent on hispreserving a healthy body, on which, in turn, a vigorous mind depends. 

"How soon can you get me up?" he asked sharply, when my pretendedexamination was over. 

"I should say a month at most. "

"That would be too long, " he cried. "You must do it in less. "

"It does not depend on me--"

"It does depend on you. I know life itself. You know the paltry scienceof organic life. I have had no time for such trivial study. Get me wellwithin three days, or--"

"I am attending. "

"By the hold over my sister's imagination which I have gained, I willkill her on the fourth morning from now. "

"You will--_not_. "

"I tell you I will, " Brande shrieked, starting up in his berth. "I coulddo it now. "

"You could--_not_. "

"Man, do you know what you are saying? You to bandy words with me! Aclod-brained fool to dare a man of science! Man of science forsooth!Your men of science are to me as brain-benumbed, as brain-bereft, asthat fly which I crush--thus!"

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

"You are agitating yourself unnecessarily and injuriously, " I said in mybest professional manner. "And if you persist in doing so you will makemy one month three. "

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

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

"I have read your mind before. I can read it now. "

"You can--_not_. "

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

"You are right. Have you, then, a higher power than I?"

"No; a lower!"

"A lower! What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have merely paralysed your brain--that for many months tocome it will not be restored to its normal power--that it will neverreach its normal power again unless I choose. "

"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 exacted to the uttermost. My lifehas been in vain!"

The absolute agony in his voice, the note of almost superhuman sufferingand despair, was so intense, that, without thinking of what it was thisman was grieving over, I found myself saying soothingly:

"No, no! Nothing is lost. It is only your own overstrained nervoussystem which sends these fantastic nightmares to your brain. I will soonmake you all right if you will listen to reason. "

He turned to me with the most appealing look which I had ever seen inhuman eyes save once before--when Natalie pleaded with me. 

"I had forgotten, " he said, "the issue now lies in your hands. Chooserightly. Choose mercy. "

"I will, " I answered shortly, for his request brought me back with ajerk to his motive. 

"Then you will get me well as soon as your skill can do it?"

"I will keep you in your present condition until I have your most solemnassurance that you will neither go farther yourself nor instigate othersto go farther with this preposterous scheme of yours. "

"Bah!" Brande ejaculated contemptuously, and lay back with a suddencontent. "My brain is certainly out of order, else I should not haveforgotten--until your words recalled it--the Labrador expedition. "

"The Labrador expedition?"

"Yes. On the day we sailed for the Arafura Sea, Grey started withanother party for Labrador. If we fail to act before the 31st December, in the year 1900, he will proceed. And the end of the century will bethe date of the end of the earth. I will signal to him now. "

His face changed suddenly. For a moment I thought he was dead. Then thedreadful fact came home to me. He was telegraphing telepathically toGrey. So the murder that was upon my soul had been done in vain. Thenanother life must be taken. Better a double crime than one resultlesstragedy. I was spared this. 

Brande opened his eyes wearily, and sighed as if fatigued. The effort, short as it was, must have been intense. He was prostrated. His voicewas low, almost a whisper, as he said:

"You have succeeded beyond belief. I cannot even signal him, much lessexchange ideas. " With that 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 sprinkledover with the passengers, but owing to the strong head-wind caused bythe speed of the steamer, there was a little nook in the bow where therewas no one to trouble me with unwelcome company. 

I sat down on an arm of the starboard anchor and tried to think. Thegame which seemed so nearly won had all to be played over again from thefirst move. If I had killed Brande--which surely would have beenjustifiable--the other expedition would go on from where he left off. And how should I find them? And who would believe my story when I gotback to England?

Brande must go on. His attempt to wreck the earth, even if the power heclaimed were not overrated, would fail. For if the compounds of a commonexplosive must be so nicely balanced as they require to be, surely theaddition of the figures which I had made in his formula would upset thebalance of constituents in an agent so delicate, though so powerful, asthat which he had invented. When the master failed, it was more thanprobable that the pupil would distrust the invention, and return toLondon for fresh experiments. Then a clean sweep must be made of thewhole party. Meantime, it was plain that Brande must be allowed theopportunity of failing. And this it would be my hazardous duty tosuperintend. 

I returned to Brande's cabin with my mind made up. He was awake, andlooked at me eagerly, but waited for me to speak. Our conversation wasbrief, for I had little sympathy with my patient, and the only anxiety Iexperienced about his health was the hope that he would not die untilhe had served my purpose. 

"I have decided to get you up, " I said curtly. 

"You have decided well, " he answered, with equal coldness. 

That was the whole interview--on which so much depended. 

After this I did not speak to Brande on any subject but that of hissymptoms, and before long he was able to come on deck. The month I spokeof as the duration of his illness was an intentional exaggeration on mypart. 

Rockingham was forgotten with a suddenness and completeness that wasalmost ghastly. The Society claimed to have improved the old maxim tospeak nothing of the dead save what is good. Of the dead they spoke notat all. It is a callous creed, but in this instance it pleased me well. 

We did not touch at Aden, and I was glad of it. The few attractions ofthe place, the diving boys and the like, may be a relief in ordinary seavoyages, but I was too much absorbed in my experiment on Brande to bearwith patience any delay which served to postpone the crisis of myscheme. I had treated him well, so far as his bodily health went, but Ideliberately continued to tamper with his brain, so that any return ofhis telepathic power was thus prevented. Indeed, Brande himself was notanxious for such return. The power was always exercised at an extremenervous strain, and it was now, he said, unnecessary to his purpose. 

In consequence of this determination, I modified the already minutedoses of the drug I was giving him. This soon told with advantage on hishealth. His physical improvement partly restored his confidence in me, so that he followed my instructions faithfully. He evidently recognisedthat he was in my power; that if I did not choose to restore him fullyno other man could. 

Of the ship's officers, Anderson, who was in command, and Percival, thedoctor, were men of some individuality. The captain was a good sailorand an excellent man of business. In the first capacity, he was firm, exacting, and scrupulously conscientious. In the second, his consciencewas more elastic when he saw his way clear to his own advantage. He hadcertain rigid rules of conduct which he prided himself on observing tothe letter, without for a moment suspecting that their _raison d'etre_lay in his own interests. His commercial morality only required him tokeep within the law. His final contract with myself was, I admit, faithfully carried out, but the terms of it would not have discreditedthe most predatory business man in London town. 

Percival was the opposite pole of such a character. He was a clever man, who might have risen in his profession but for his easy-going indolence. I spent many an hour in his cabin. He was a sportsman and a skilled_raconteur_. His anecdotes helped to while the weary time away. Heexaggerated persistently, but this did not disturb me. Besides, if inhis narratives he lengthened out the hunt a dozen miles and increasedthe weight of the fish to an impossible figure, made the brace a dozenand the ten-ton boat a man-of-war, it was not because he wasdeliberately untruthful. He looked back on his feats through thetelescope of a strongly magnifying memory. It was more agreeable to meto hear him boast his prowess than have him inquire after the health andtreatment of my patient Brande. On this matter he was naturally verycurious, and I very reticent. 

That Brande did not entirely trust me was evident from his confusionwhen I surprised him once reading his formula. His anxiety to convinceme that it was only a commonplace memorandum was almost ludicrous. I wasglad to see him anxious about that document. The more carefully hepreserved it, and the more faithfully he adhered to its conditions, thebetter for my experiment. A sense of security followed this incident. Itdid not last long. It ended that evening. 

After a day of almost unendurable heat, I went on deck for a breath ofair. We were well out in the Indian Ocean, and soundings were beingattempted by some of our naturalists. I sat alone and watched the sunsink down into the glassy ocean on which our rushing vessel was the onlything that moved. As the darkness of that hot, still night gathered, weird gleams of phosphorus broke from the steamer's bows and streamedaway behind us in long lines of flashing spangles. Where the swellcaused by the passage of the ship rose in curling waves, these, as theysplashed into mimic breakers, burst into showers of flamboyant light. The water from the discharge-pipe poured down in a cascade, that shonelike silver. Every turn of the screw dashed a thousand flashes on eitherside, and the heaving of the lead was like the flight of a meteor, as itplunged with a luminous trail far down into the dark unfathomable depthsbelow. 

My name was spoken softly. Natalie Brande stood beside me. The spell wascomplete. The unearthly glamour of the magical scene had been compassedby her. She had called it forth and could disperse it by an effort ofher will. I wrenched my mind free from the foolish phantasmagoria. 

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

"He has been well for some time, " I said, my heart beating fast. 

"He is not thoroughly restored even yet. But this evening he was able toreceive a message from me by the thought waves. He thinks you areplotting injury to him. His brain is not yet sufficiently strong to showhow foolish this fugitive fancy is. Perhaps you would go to him. He istroubling himself over this. You can set his mind at rest. "

"I can--and will--if I am not too late, " I answered. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

£5000 TO DETAIN THE SHIP. 

Brande was asleep when I entered his cabin. His writing-table wascovered with scraps of paper on which he had been scribbling. My namewas on every scrap, preceded or followed by an unfinished sentence, thus: "Marcel is thinking-- When I was ill, Marcel thought-- Marcelmeans to--" All these I gathered up carefully and put in my pocket. ThenI inoculated him with as strong a solution of the drug I was using onhim as was compatible with the safety of his life. Immediate dangerbeing thus averted, I determined to run no similar risk again. 

For many days after this our voyage was monotonous. The deadly secretshared by Edith Metford and myself drew us gradually nearer to eachother as time passed. She understood me, or, at least, gave me theimpression that she understood me. Little by little that capricious moodwhich I have heretofore described changed into one of enduringsympathy. With one trivial exception, this lasted until the end. But forher help my mind would hardly have stood the strain of events which werenow at hand, whose livid shadows were projected in the rising fire ofBrande's relentless eyes. 

Brande appeared to lose interest gradually in his ship's company. Hebecame daily more and more absorbed in his own thoughts. Natalie wasever gentle, even tender. But I chafed at the impalpable barrier whichwas always between us. Sometimes I thought that she would willingly haveranged herself on my side. Some hidden power held her back. As to theothers, I began to like the boy Halley. He was lovable, if not athletic. His devotion to Natalie, which never waned, did not now trouble me. Itwas only a friendship, and I welcomed it. Had it been anything more, itwas not likely that he would have prevailed against the will of a manwho had done murder for his mistress. We steamed through the MalayArchipelago, steering north, south, east, west, as if at haphazard, until only the navigating officers and the director of the Society knewhow our course lay. We were searching for an island about the bearingsof which, it transpired, some mistake had been made. I do not knowwhether the great laureate ever sailed these seas. But I know that hisglorious islands of flowers and islands of fruit, with all theirluscious imagery, were here eclipsed by our own islands of foliage. Thelong lagoons, the deep blue bays, the glittering parti-coloured fishthat swam in visible shoals deep down amidst the submerged coral grovesover which we passed, the rich-toned sea-weeds and brilliant anemones, the yellow strands and the steep cliffs, the riotous foliage that sweptdown from the sky to the blue of the sea; all these natural beautiesseemed to cry to me with living voices--to me bound on a cruise ofuniversal death. 

After a long spell of apparently aimless but glorious steaming, a smallisland was sighted on our port bow. The _Esmeralda_ was steered directlyfor it, and we dropped anchor in a deep natural harbour on its southernshore. Preparations for landing had been going on during the day, andeverything was ready for quitting the ship. 

It was here that my first opportunity for making use of the gold I hadbrought with me occurred. Anderson was called up by Brande, who madehim a short complimentary speech, and finished it by ordering hisofficer to return to England, where further instructions would be givenhim. This order was received in respectful silence. Captain Anderson hadbeen too liberally treated to demur if the _Esmeralda_ had been orderedto the South Pole. 

Brande went below for a few minutes, and as soon as he had disappeared Iwent forward to Anderson and hailed him nervously, for there was not amoment to spare. 

"Anderson, " I said hurriedly, "you must have noticed that Mr. Brande isan eccentric--"

"Pardon me, sir; it is not my business to comment upon my owner. "

"I did not ask you to comment upon him, sir, " I said sharply. "It is Iwho shall comment upon him, and it is for you to say whether you willundertake to earn my money by waiting in this harbour till I am ready tosail back with you to England. "

"Have you anything more to say, sir?" Anderson asked stiffly. 

"I presume I have said enough. "

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

He blew his whistle, and a steward ran forward. 

"Johnson, see Mr. Marcel's luggage over the side at once. " To me he saidshortly: "Quit my ship, sir. "

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

"Before I quit your ship, " I said, with emphasis, "I will tell you howyou yourself will quit it. You will do so between two policemen if youland in England, and between two marines if you think of keeping on thehigh seas. Before we started, I sent a detailed statement of this ship, the nature of this nefarious voyage, and the names of the passengers--oras many as I knew--to a friend who will put it in proper hands ifanything befalls me. Go back without me and explain the loss of thatFrench fishing fleet which was sunk the very night we sailed. It is anawkward coincidence to be explained by a man who returns from an unknownvoyage having lost his entire list of passengers. You cannot be awareof what this man Brande intends, or you would at least stand by us aslong as your own safety permitted. In any case you cannot safely returnwithout us. "

Anderson, after reflecting for a moment, apologised for his peremptorywords, and agreed to stand by night and day, with fires banked, until I, and all whom I could prevail upon to return with me, got back to hisvessel. There was no danger of his running short of coal. A ship thatwas practically an ocean liner in coal ballast would be a considerabletime in burning out her own cargo. But he insisted on a large moneypayment in advance. I had foolishly mentioned that I had a little over£5000 in gold. This he claimed on the plea that "in duty to himself"--afavourite phrase of his--he could not accept less. But I think his senseof duty was limited only by the fact that I had hardly another penny inthe world. Under the circumstances he might have waived allremuneration. As he was firm, and as I had no time to haggle, I agreedto give him the money. Our bargain was only completed when Brandereturned to the deck. 

It was strange that on an island like that on which we were landingthere should be a regular army of natives waiting to assist us with ourbaggage, and the saddled horses which were in readiness were out ofplace in a primeval wilderness. An Englishman came forward, and, saluting Brande, said all was ready for the start to the hills. Thisexplained the puzzle. An advance agent had made everything comfortable. For Brande, his sister, and Miss Metford the best appointed horses wereselected. I, as physician to the chief, had one. The main body had tomake the journey on foot, which they did by very easy stages, owing tothe heat and the primitive track which formed the only road. Theirjourney was not very long--perhaps ten miles in a direct line. 

Mounted as we were, it was often necessary to stoop to escape the densemasses of parasitic growth which hung in green festoons from everybranch of the trees on either side. Under this thick shade all theriotous vegetation of the tropics had fought for life and struggled forlight and air till the wealth of their luxuriant death had carpeted theunderwood with a thick deposit of steaming foliage. As we ascended theheight, every mile in distance brought changes in the botanicalgrowths, which might have passed unnoticed by the ordinary observer orignorant pioneer. All were noted and commented on by Brande, whose eyewas still as keen as his brain had once been brilliant. His usual staiddemeanour changed suddenly. He romped ahead of us like a schoolboy outfor a holiday. Unlike a schoolboy, however, he was always seeking newitems of knowledge and conveying them to us with unaffected pleasure. Hewas more like a master who had found new ground and new material for hisclass. Natalie gave herself up like him to this enjoyment of the moment. Edith Metford and I partly caught the glamour of their infectiousgood-humour. But with both of us it was tempered by the knowledge ofwhat was in store. 

When we arrived at our destination we dismounted, at Brande's request, and tied our horses to convenient branches. He went forward, and, pushing aside the underwood with both hands, motioned to us to followhim till he stopped on a ledge of rock which overtopped a hollow in themountain. The gorge below was the most beautiful glade I ever lookedupon. 

It was a paradise of foliage. Here and there a fallen tree had formed apicturesque bridge over the mountain stream which meandered through it. Far down below there was a waterfall, where gorgeous tree-ferns rose innatural bowers, while others further still leant over the lotus-coveredstream, their giant leaves trailing in the slow-moving current. Tangledmasses of bracken rioted in wild abundance over a velvety green sod, overshadowed by waving magnolias. Through the trees bright-plumagedbirds were flitting from branch to branch in songless flight, flashingtheir brilliant colours through the sunny leaves. In places the watersplashed over moss-grown rocks into deep pools. Every drifting spray ofcloud threw over the dell a new light, deepening the shadows under thegreat ferns. 

It was here in this glorious fairyland; here upon this island, wherebefore us no white foot had ever trod; whose nameless people representedthe simplest types of human existence, that Herbert Brande was to puthis devilish experiment to the proof. I marvelled that he should haveselected so fair a spot for so terrible a purpose. But the papers whichI found later amongst the man's effects on the _Esmeralda_ explain muchthat was then incomprehensible to me. 

Our camp was quickly formed, and our life was outwardly as happy as ifwe had been an ordinary company of tourists. I say outwardly, because, while we walked and climbed and collected specimens of botanical orgeological interest, there remained that latent dread which alwaysfollowed us, and dominated the most frivolous of our people, on all ofwhom a new solemnity had fallen. For myself, the fact that the hour oftrial for my own experiment was daily drawing closer and moreinevitable, was sufficient to account for my constant and extremeanxiety. 

Brande joined none of our excursions. He was always at work in hisimprovised laboratory. The boxes of material which had been brought fromthe ship nearly filled it from floor to roof, and from the speed withwhich these were emptied, it was evident that their contents had beensystematised before shipment. In place of the varied collection ofsubstances there grew up within the room a cone of compound matter inwhich all were blended. This cone was smaller, Brande admitted, thanwhat he had intended. The supply of subordinate fulminates, thoughseveral times greater than what was required, proved to be considerablyshort. But as he had allowed himself a large margin--everything beingon a scale far exceeding the minimum which his calculations had pointedto as sufficient--this deficiency did not cause him more than atemporary annoyance. So he worked on. 

When we had been three weeks on the island I found the suspense greaterthan I could bear. The crisis was at hand, and my heart failed me. Idetermined to make a last appeal to Natalie, to fly with me to the ship. Edith Metford would accompany us. The rest might take the risk to whichthey had consented. 

I found Natalie standing on the high rock whence the most lovely view ofthe dell could be obtained, and as I approached her silently she was notaware of my presence until I laid my hand on her shoulder. 

"Natalie, " I said wistfully, for the girl's eyes were full of tears, "doyou mind if I withdraw now from this enterprise, in which I cannot be ofthe slightest use, and of which I most heartily disapprove?"

"The Society would not allow you to withdraw. You cannot do so withoutits permission, and hope to live within a thousand miles of it, " sheanswered gravely. 

"I should not care to live within ten thousand miles of it. I should tryto get and keep the earth's diameter between myself and it. "

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

"Don't live without me. Come with me. Get rid of this infamousassociation of lunatics, whose object they themselves cannot reallyappreciate, and whose means are murder--"

But there she stopped me. "My brother could find me out at the uttermostends of the earth if I forsook him, and you know I do not mean toforsake him. For yourself--do not try to desert. It would make nodifference. Do not believe that any consideration would cause mewillingly to give you a moment's pain, or that I should shrink fromsacrificing myself to save you. " With one of her small white hands shegently pressed my head towards her. Her lips touched my forehead, andshe whispered: "Do not leave me. It will soon be over now. I--I--needyou. "

As I was returning dejected after my fruitless appeal to Natalie, I metEdith Metford, to whom I had unhappily mentioned my proposal for anescape. 

"Is it arranged? When do we start?" she asked eagerly. 

"It is not arranged, and we do not start, " I answered in despair. 

"You told me you would go with her or without her, " she criedpassionately. "It is shameful--unmanly. "

"It is certainly both if I really said what you tell me. I was notmyself at the moment, and my tongue must have slandered me. I stay tothe end. But you will go. Captain Anderson will receive you--"

"How am I to be certain of that?"

"I paid him for your passage, and have his receipt. "

"And you really think I would go and leave--leave--"

"Natalie? I think you would be perfectly justified. "

At this the girl stamped her foot passionately on the ground and burstinto tears. Nor would she permit any of the slight caresses I offered. I thought her old caprices were returning. She flung my arm rudely fromher and left me bewildered. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"THIS EARTH SHALL DIE. "

My memory does not serve me well in the scenes which immediatelypreceded the closing of the drama in which Brande was chief actor. It isdoubtless the transcendental interest of the final situation whichblunts my recollection of what occurred shortly before it. I did notabate one jot of my determination to fight my venture out unflinching, but my actions were probably more automatic than reasoned, as the timeof our last encounter approached. On the whole, the fight had been afair one. Brande had used his advantage over me for his own purpose aslong as it remained with him. I used the advantage as soon as it passedto me for mine. The conditions had thus been equalised when, for thethird and last time, I was to hear him address his Society. 

This time the man was weak in health. His vitality was ebbing fast, buthis marvellous inspiration was strong within him, and, supported by it, he battled manfully with the disease which I had manufactured for him. His lecture-room was the fairy glen; his canopy the heavens. 

I cannot give the substance of this address, or any portion of it, verbatim as on former occasions, for I have not the manuscript. I doubtif Brande wrote out his last speech. Methodical as were his habits it isprobable that his final words were not premeditated. They burst from himin a delirium that could hardly have been studied. His fine frenzy couldnot well have originated from considered sentences, although hislanguage, regarded as mere oratory, was magnificent. It was appalling inthe light through which I read it. 

He stood alone upon the rock which overtopped the dell. We arrangedourselves in such groups as suited our inclinations, upon some risingground below. The great trees waved overhead, low murmuring. Thewaterfall splashed drearily. Below, not a whisper was exchanged. Above, the man poured out his triumphant death-song in sonorous periods. Below, great fear was upon all. Above, the madman exulted wildly. 

At first his voice was weak. As he went on it gained strength and depth. He alluded to his first address, in which he had hinted that thematerial Universe was not quite a success; to his second, in which hehad boldly declared it was an absolute failure. This, his thirddeclaration, was to tell us that the remedy as far as he, a mortal man, could apply it, was ready. The end was at hand. That night should seethe consummation of his life-work. To-morrow's sun would rise--if itrose at all--on the earth restored to space. 

A shiver passed perceptibly over the people, prepared as they were forthis long foreseen announcement. Edith Metford, who stood by me on myleft, slipped her hand into mine and pressed my fingers hard. NatalieBrande, on my right, did not move. Her eyes were dilated and fixed onthe speaker. The old clairvoyante look was on her face. Her dark pupilswere blinded save to their inward light. She was either unconscious oronly partly conscious. Now that the hour had come, they who had believedtheir courage secure felt it wither. They, the people with us, beggedfor a little longer time to brace themselves for the great crisis--theplunge into an eternity from which there would be no resurrection, neither of matter nor of mind. 

Brande heeded them not. 

"This night, " said he, with culminating enthusiasm, "the cloud-cappedtowers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, shall dissolve. Tothis great globe itself--this paltry speck of less account in space thana dew-drop in an ocean--and all its sorrow and pain, its trials andtemptations, all the pathos and bathos of our tragic human farce, theend is near. The way has been hard, and the journey overlong, and theburden often beyond man's strength. But that long-drawn sorrow now shallcease. The tears will be wiped away. The burden will fall from wearyshoulders. For the fulness of time has come. This earth shall die! Anddeath is peace. 

"I stand, " he cried out in a strident voice, raising his arm aloft, "Imay say, with one foot on sea and one on land, for I hold the elementalsecret of them both. And I swear by the living god--Scienceincarnate--that the suffering of the centuries is over, that for thisearth and all that it contains, from this night and for ever, _Timewill be no more!_"

A great cry rose from the people. "Give us another day--only anotherday!"

But Brande made answer: "It is now too late. "

"Too late!" the people wailed. 

"Yes, too late. I warned you long ago. Are you not yet ready? In twohours the disintegrating agent will enter on its work. No human powercould stop it now. Not if every particle of the material I havecompounded were separated and scattered to the winds. Before I set myfoot upon this rock I applied the key which will release its inherentenergy. I myself am powerless. "

"Powerless, " sobbed the auditors. 

"Powerless! And if I had ten thousand times the power which I havecalled forth from the universal element, I would use it towards theissue I have forecast. "

Thereupon he turned away. Doom sounded in his words. The hand of Deathlaid clammy fingers on us. Edith Metford's strength failed at last. Ithad been sorely tested. She sank into my arms. 

"Courage, true heart, our time has come, " I whispered. "We start for thesteamer at once. The horses are ready. " My arrangements had been alreadymade. My plan had been as carefully matured as any ever made by Brandehimself. 

"How many horses?"

"Three. One for you; another for Natalie; the third for myself. The restmust accept the fate they have selected. "

The girl shuddered as she said, "But your interference with the formula?You are sure it will destroy the effect?"

"I am certain that the particular result on which Brande calculates willnot take place. But short of that, he has still enough explosive matterstored to cause an earthquake. We are not safe within a radius of fiftymiles. It will be a race against time. "

"Natalie will not come. "

"Not voluntarily. You must think of some plan. Your brain is quick. Wehave not a moment to lose. Ah, there she is! Speak to her. "

Natalie was crossing the open ground which led from the glen to Brande'slaboratory. She did not observe us till Edith called to her. Then sheapproached hastily and embraced her friend with visible emotion. Even tome she offered her cheek without reserve. 

"Natalie, " I said quickly, "there are three horses saddled and waitingin the palm grove. The _Esmeralda_ is still lying in the harbour wherewe landed. You will come with us. Indeed, you have no choice. You mustcome if I have to carry you to your horse and tie you to the saddle. Youwill not force me to put that indignity upon you. To the horses, then!Come!"

For answer she called her brother loudly by his name. Brande immediatelyappeared at the door of his laboratory, and when he perceived from whomthe call had come he joined us. 

"Herbert, " said Natalie, "our friend is deserting us. He must stillcling to the thought that your purpose may fail, and he expects toescape on horseback from the fate of the earth. Reason with him yet alittle further. "

"There is no time to reason, " I interrupted. "The horses are ready. Thisgirl (pointing as I spoke to Edith Metford) takes one, I another, andyou the third--whether your brother agrees or not. "

"Surely you have not lost your reason? Have you forgotten the drop ofwater in the English Channel?" Brande said quietly. 

"Brande, " I answered, "the sooner you induce your sister to come with methe better; and the sooner you induce these maniac friends of yours toclear out the better, for your enterprise will fail. "

"It is as certain as the law of gravitation. With my own hand I mixedthe ingredients according to the formula. "

"And, " said I, "with my own hand I altered your formula. "

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

"You altered my formula?"

"I did, " I answered recklessly. "I multiplied your figures by ten wherethey struck me as insufficient. "

"When?"

I strode closer still to him and looked him straight in the eyes while Ispoke. 

"That night in the Red Sea, when Edith Metford, by accident, mixedmorphia in your medicine. The night I injected a subtle poison, which Ipicked up in India once, into your blood while you slept, therebybaffling some of the functions of your extraordinary brain. The nightwhen in your sleep you stirred once, and had you stirred twice, I wouldhave killed you, then and there, as ruthlessly as you would kill mankindnow. The night I did kill your lieutenant, Rockingham, and throw hisbody overboard to the sharks. "

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

"So it now devolves on Grey. The end will be the same. The Labradorexpedition will succeed where I have failed. " To Natalie: "You hadbetter go. There will only be an explosion. The island will probablydisappear. That will be all. "

"Do you remain?" she asked. 

"Yes. I perish with my failure. "

"Then I perish with you. And you, Marcel, save yourself--you coward!"

I started as if struck in the face. Then I said to Edith: "Be careful tokeep to the track. Take the bay horse. I saddled him for myself, but youcan ride him safely. Lose no time, and ride hard for the coast. "

"Arthur Marcel, " she answered, so softly that the others did not hear, "your work in the world 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 feeling awoke in Brande. He said in alow, abstracted voice: "My life fittingly ends now. To keep you, Natalie, would only be a vulgar murder. " The old will power seemed tocome back to him. He looked into the girl's eyes, and said slowly andsternly: "Go! I command it. "

Without another word he turned away from us. When he had disappearedinto the laboratory, Natalie sighed, and said dreamily:

"I am ready. Let us go. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE FLIGHT. 

I led the girls hurriedly to the horses. When they were mounted on theponies, I gave the bridle-reins of the bay horse--whose size andstrength were necessary for my extra weight--to Edith Metford, and askedher to wait for me until I announced Brande's probable failure to thepeople, and advised a _sauve qui peut_. 

Hard upon my warning there followed a strange metamorphosis in thecrowd, who, after the passing weakness at the lecture, had fallen backinto stoical indifference, or it may have been despair. The possibilityof escape galvanized them into the desire for life. Cries of distress, and prayers for help, filled the air. Men and women rushed about likefrightened sheep without concert or any sensible effort to escape, wasting in futile scrambles the short time remaining to them. Foranother half hour had now passed, and in sixty minutes the earthquakewould take place. 

"Follow us!" I shouted, as with my companions I rode slowly through thecamp. "Keep the track to the sea. I shall have the steamer's boats readyfor all who may reach the shore alive. "

"The horses! Seize the horses!" rose in a loud shout, and the mob flungthemselves upon us, as though three animals could carry all. 

When I saw the rush, I called out: "Sit firm, Natalie; I am going tostrike your horse. " Saying which I struck the pony a sharp blow with myriding-whip crossways on the flank. It bounded like a deer, and thendashed forward down the rough pathway. 

"Now you, Edith!" I struck her pony in the same way; but it only rearedand nearly threw her. It could not get away. Already hands were uponboth bridle-reins. There was no help for it. I pulled out my revolverand fired once, twice, and thrice--for I missed the second shot--andthen the maddened animal sprang forward, released from the hands thatheld it. 

It was now time to look to myself. I was in the midst of a dozen maniacsmad with fear. I kicked in my spurs desperately, and the bay lashed outhis hind feet. One hoof struck young Halley on the forehead. He fellback dead, his skull in fragments. But the others refused to break thecircle. Then I emptied my weapon on them, and my horse plunged throughthe opening, followed by despairing execrations. The moment I was clear, I returned my revolver to its case, and settled myself in the saddle, for, borne out of the proper path as I had been, there was a stiff bankto leap before I could regain the track to the shore. Owing to thedarkness the horse refused to leap, and I nearly fell over his head. With a little scrambling I managed to get back into my seat, and thentrotted along the bank for a hundred yards. At this point the bankdisappeared, and there was nothing between me now and the open track tothe sea. 

Once upon the path, I put the bay to a gallop, and very soon overtook aman and a woman hurrying on. They were running hand in hand, the man alittle in front dragging his companion on by force. It was plain to methat the woman could not hold out much longer. The man, Claude Lureau, hailed me as I passed. 

"Help us, Marcel. Don't ride away from us. "

"I cannot save both, " I answered, pulling up. 

"Then save Mademoiselle Véret. I'll take my chance. "

This blunt speech moved me, the more especially as the man was French. Icould not allow him to point the way of duty to me--an Englishman. 

"Assist her up, then. Now, Mademoiselle, put your arms round me and holdhard for your life. Lureau, you may hold my stirrup if you agree toloose it when you tire. "

"I will do so, " he promised. 

Hampered thus, I but slowly gained on Natalie and Edith, whose ponieshad galloped a mile before they could be stopped. 

"Forward, forward!" I shouted when within hail. "Don't wait for me. Rideon 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 solong as Lureau held my stirrup, and the girls in front did not seemanxious to leave me far behind. Besides, the tangled underwood andoverhanging creepers rendered hard riding both difficult and dangerous. The ponies were hard held, but notwithstanding this my horse fell backgradually in the race, and the hammering of the hoofs in front grewfainter. The breath of the runner at my stirrup came in great sobs. Hewas suffocating, but he struggled on a little longer. Then he threw uphis hand and gasped:

"I am done. Go on, Marcel. You deserve to escape. Don't desert thegirl. "

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

"Go on--save her!" he gasped, and then from sheer exhaustion fellforward on his face. 

"Sit still, Mademoiselle, " I cried, pulling the French girl's arms roundme in time to prevent her from throwing herself purposely from thehorse. Then I drove in my spurs hard, and, being now released fromLureau's grasp, I overtook the ponies. 

For five minutes we all rode on abreast. And then the darkness began tobreak, and a strange dawn glimmered over the tree-tops, although thehour of midnight was still to come. A wild, red light, like that of afiery sunset in a hazy summer evening, spread over the night sky. Thequivering stars grew pale. Constellation after constellation, they wereblotted out until the whole arc of heaven was a dull red glare. Thehorses were dismayed by this strange phenomenon, and dashed the frothfrom their foaming muzzles as they galloped now without stress of spurat their best speed. Birds that could not sing found voice, andchattered and shrieked as they dashed from tree to tree in aimlessflight. Enormous bats hurtled in the air, blinded by the unusual light. From the dense undergrowth strange denizens of the woods, disturbed intheir nightly prowl, leaped forth and scurried squealing between thegalloping hoofs, reckless of anything save their own fear. Everythingthat was alive upon the island was in motion, and fear was the motor ofthem all. 

So far, we saw no natives. Their absence did not surprise me, for I hadno time for thought. It was explained later. 

Edith Metford's pony soon became unmanageable in its fright. I unbuckledone spur and gave it to her, directing her to hold it in her hand, forof course she could not strap it to her boot, and drive it into theanimal when he swerved. She took the spur, and as her pony, in one ofhis side leaps, nearly bounded off the path, she struck him hard on theribs. He bolted and flew on far ahead of us. 

The light grew stronger. 

But that the rays were red, it would now have been as bright as day. Wewere chasing our shadows, so the light must be directly behind us. Mademoiselle Véret first noticed this, and drew my attention to it. Ilooked back, and my heart sank at the sight. In the terror it inspired, I regretted having burthened myself with the girl I had sworn to save. 

The island was on fire!

"It is the end of the world, " Mademoiselle Véret said with a shudder. She clung closer to me. I could feel her warm breath upon my cheek. Theunmanly regret, which for a moment had touched me, passed. 

The ponies now seemed to find out that their safety lay in gallopingstraight on, rather than in scared leaps from side to side. Theystretched themselves like race horses, and gave my bay, with his doubleburthen, a strong lead. The pace became terrible considering the natureof the ground we covered. 

At last the harbour came in view. But my horse, I knew, could not lastanother mile, and the shore was still distant two or three. I spurredhim hard and drew nearly level with the ponies, so that my voice couldbe heard by both their riders. 

"Ride on, " I shouted, "and hail the steamer, so that there may be nodelay when I come up. This horse is blown, and will not stand the pace. I am going to ease him. You will go on board at once, and send the boatback for us. " Then I eased the bay, but in spite of this I immediatelyovertook Edith Metford, who had pulled up. 

My reproaches she cut short by saying, "If that horse does the distanceat all it will be by getting a lead all the way. And I am going to giveit to him. " So we started together. 

Natalie was waiting for us a little further on. I spoke to her, but shedid not answer. From the moment that Brande had commanded her toaccompany us, her manner had remained absolutely passive. What Iordered, she obeyed. That was all. Instead of being alarmed by thehorrors of the ride, she did not seem to be even interested. I had notleisure, however, to reflect on this. For the first time in the wholerace she spoke to us. 

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

"I am afraid; but I remain, " Edith said resolutely. 

The ground under us began to heave. Whole acres of it swayed disjointed. We were galloping on oscillating fragments, which trembled beneath uslike floating logs under boys at play. To jump these cracks--sometimesan upward bank, sometimes a deep drop, in addition to the width of theseam, had to be taken--pumped out the failing horses, and the hope thatwas left to us disappeared utterly. 

The glare of the red light behind waxed fiercer still, and a lowrumbling as of distant thunder began to mutter round us. The air becamedifficult to breathe. It was no longer air, but a mephitic stench thatchoked us with disgusting fumes. Then a great shock shook the land, andright in front of us a seam opened that must have been fully fifteenfeet in width. Natalie was the first to see it. She observed it too lateto stop. 

In the same mechanical way as she had acted before, she settled herselfin the saddle, struck the pony with her hand, and raced him at thechasm. He cleared it with little to spare. Edith's took it next withless. Then my turn came. Before I could shake up my tired horse, Mademoiselle Véret said quickly:

"Monsieur has done enough. He will now permit me to alight. This timethe horse cannot jump over with both. "

"He shall jump over with both, Mademoiselle, or he shall jump in, " Ianswered. "Don't look down when we are crossing. "

The horse just got over, but he came to his knees, and we fell forwardover his shoulder. The girl's head struck full on a slab of rock, and afaint moan was all that told me she was alive as I arose half stunned tomy feet. My first thought was for the horse, for on him all depended. Hewas uninjured, apparently, but hardly able to stand from the shock andthe stress of fatigue. 

Edith Metford had dismounted and caught him; she was holding the bridlein her left hand, and winced as if in pain when I accidentally brushedagainst her right shoulder. I tied the horse to a young palm, andbegged the girl to ride on. She obeyed me reluctantly. Natalie had toassist her to remount, so she must have been injured. When I saw hersafely in her saddle, I ran back to Mademoiselle Véret. 

The chasm was fast widening. From either side great fragments werebreaking off and falling in with a roar of loose rocks crashingtogether, till far down the sound was dulled into a hollow boom. Thisended in low guttural, which growled up from an abysmal depth. Mademoiselle Véret, or her dead body, lay now on the very edge of theseam, and I had to harden my heart before I could bring myself toventure close to it. But I had given my word, and there were noconditions in the promise when I made it. 

I was spared the ordeal. Just as I stepped forward, the slab of rock onwhich the girl lay broke off in front of me, and, tipping up, overturneditself into the chasm. Far below I could see the shimmer of the girl'sdress as her body went plunging down into that awful pit. Andremembering her generous courage and offer of self-sacrifice, I felttears rise in my eyes. But there was no time for tears. 

I leaped on the bay, and got him into something approaching a gallop, shouting at the others to keep on, for they were now returning. When Icame up with them, Edith Metford said with a shiver:

"The girl?"

"Is at the bottom of the pit. Ride on. "

We gained the shore at last; and our presence there produced theexplanation of the absence of the natives on the pathway to the sea. They were there before us. Lying prostrate on the beach in hundreds, they raised their bodies partly from the sands, like a resurrection ofthe already dead, and there then rang out upon the night air a soundsuch as my ears had never before heard in my life, such as, I pray God, they may never listen to again. I do not know what that dreadfuldeath-wail meant in words, only that it touched the lowest depths ofhuman horror. All along the beach that fearful chorus of the damnedwailed forth, and echoed back from rock and cliff. The cry for mercycould not be mistaken--the supplication blended with despair. They werepraying to us--their evil spirits, for this wrong had been wrought themby our advent, if not by ourselves. 

I cannot dwell upon the scene. I could not describe it. I would not if Icould. 

The steamer was still in her berth; her head was pointed seawards. Loudorders rang over the water. The roar of the chain running out throughthe hawse-hole and the heavy splash could not be mistaken. Anderson hadslipped his cable. Then the chime of the telegraph on the bridge wasfollowed almost instantly by the first smashing stroke of the propeller. 

The _Esmeralda_ was under weigh!

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE CATASTROPHE. 

The _Esmeralda_ was putting out to sea when I thought of a lastexpedient to draw the attention of her captain. Filling my revolver withcartridges which I had loose in my pockets, I fired all the chambers asfast as I could snap the trigger. 

My signals were heard, and Anderson proved true to his bargain. Heimmediately reversed his engines, and, when he had backed in as close ashe thought safe, sent a boat ashore for us. We got into it without anyobstruction from the cowering natives, who only shrank from us inhorror, now that their prayers had failed to move us. The moment ourboat was made fast to the steamer's davit ropes and we were pulled outof the water, "full speed ahead" was rung from the bridge. We wereraised to the deck while the vessel was getting up speed. 

I crawled up the ladder to the bridge feebly, for I was becoming stifffrom the bruises of the fall from my horse. Anderson received me coldly, and listened indifferently to my thanks. An agreement such as ourshardly prepared me for his loyalty. 

"Oh, as to that, " he interrupted, "when I make a bargain my word is mybond. On this occasion I am inclined to think the indenture will be afinal one. "

His bargain was a hard one, but, having made it, he abided faithfully byits conditions. He was honest, therefore, in his own way. 

"How far can you get out in fifteen minutes?" I asked. 

"We may make six or seven knots. But what is the good of that? Therewill be an earthquake on that island on a liberal scale--on such a scalethat this ship would have very little chance in the wave that willfollow us if we were fifty miles at sea. "

"You have taken every precaution, of course--"

Anderson here looked at me contemptuously, and, with an air of sarcasticadmiration, he said:

"You have guessed it at the first try. That is precisely what I havedone. "

"Pshaw! don't take offence at trifles at a time like this, " I saidtestily. "If you knew as much about that earthquake as I do, you wouldbe in no humour for bandying phrases. "

"Might I ask how much you do know about it? You could not have foreseenthe trouble more clearly if you had made it yourself. "

"I did not make it myself, but I know the means which the man who didemployed, and but for me that earthquake would have wrecked this earth. "

Anderson made no direct answer to this, but he said earnestly:

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

"I am not done up, and I mean to see it out, " I retorted doggedly. Mynervous system was completely unhinged, and a fit of stupid obstinacycame on me which rendered any interference with my actions intolerable. 

"Then you cannot see it out upon my bridge, " Anderson said. Thedetermined tone in which he spoke only added to my impotent wrath. 

"Very well, I will return to the deck, and if any of your men shouldattempt to interfere with me he will do so at his peril. " With that, Islung my revolver round so as to have it ready to my hand. I was besidemyself. My conduct was already bad enough, but I made it worse before Ileft the bridge. 

"And if you, Anderson, disobey my orders--my orders, do you hear?--anexplosion such as took place in the middle of the English channel shalltake place in the middle of this ship. "

"For God's sake leave the bridge. I want my wits about me, and I have nointention of earning another exhibition of your devilries. "

"Then be careful not to trouble me again. " Thus after having passedthrough much danger with a spirit not unbecoming--as I hope--an Englishgentleman, I acted, when the worst was passed, like a peevish schoolboy. I am ashamed of my conduct in this small matter, and trust it will passwithout much notice in the narrative of events of greater moment. 

On deck, Natalie Brande, Edith Metford, and Percival were standingtogether, their eyes fixed on the island. Edith's face was deathlywhite, even in the ruddy glow which was now over land and sea. When Isaw her pallor, my evil temper passed away. 

"It would be impossible for you to be quite well, " I said to heranxiously; "but has anything happened since I left you? You are verypale. "

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

Natalie turned her weird eyes on me and said in the hollow voice we hadheard once before--when she spoke to us on the island--"That is her wayof telling you that your horse broke her right arm when she caught himfor you. She held him, you remember, with her left hand. The doctor hasset the limb. She will not suffer long. "

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

"I know much now, but I shall know more soon. " After this she would notspeak again. 

With every pound of steam on that the _Esmeralda's_ boilers would bearwithout bursting, we were now plunging through the great rollers of theArafura Sea. Everything had indeed been done to put the vessel in trim. She was cleared for action, so to speak. And a gallant fight she madewhen the issue was knit. When the hour of midnight must be near athand, I looked at my watch. It was one minute to twelve o'clock. 

Thirty seconds more!

The stupendous corona of flame which hung over the island was pierced bylong lines of smoke that stretched far above the glare and clutched withsooty fingers at the stars, now fitfully coming back to view at ourdistance. The rumbling of internal thunder waxed louder. 

Fifteen seconds now!

Fearful peals rent the atmosphere. Vast tongues of flame protrudedheavenward. The elements must be melting in that fervent heat. Theblazing bowels of the earth were pouring forth. 

Twelve, midnight!

A reverberation thundered out which shook the solid earth, and a roaringhell-breath of flame and smoke belched up so awful in its dreadmagnificence that every man who saw it and lived to tell his story mightjustly have claimed to have seen perdition. In that hurricane ofincandescent matter the island was blotted out for ever from the map ofthis world. 

Notwithstanding the speed of the _Esmeralda_ she was a sloth whencompared with the speed of the wave from such an earthquake. From theglare of the illumination to perfect darkness the contrast was suddenand extreme. But the blackness of the ocean was soon whitened by thesnowy plumes of the avalanche of water which was now racing us, farastern as yet, but gaining fast. I, who had no business about the shiprequiring my presence in any special part, decided to wait on deck andlash myself to the forward, which would be practically the lee-side of adeckhouse. Edith Metford we prevailed on to go below, that she might notrun the risk of further injury to her fractured arm. As she left us shewhispered to me, "So Natalie will be with you at the end, and I--" a sobstopped her. And it came into my mind at that moment that this girl hadacted very nobly, and that I had hardly appreciated her and all that shehad done for me. 

Natalie refused to leave the deck. I lashed her securely beside me. Together we awaited the end. When the roar of the following wave cameclose, so close that the voices of the officers of the ship could be nolonger heard, Natalie spoke. The hollow sound was no longer in hervoice. Her own soft sweet tones had come back. 

"Arthur, " she asked, "is this the end?"

"I fear it is, " I answered, speaking close to her ear so that she mighthear. 

"Then we have little time, and I have something which I must say, whichyou must promise me to remember when--when--I am no longer with you. "

"You will be always with me while we live. I think I deserve that atlast. "

"Yes, you deserve that and more. I will be with you while I live, butthat will not be for long. "

I was about to interrupt her when she put her soft little hand upon mylips and said:

"Listen, there is very little time. It is all a mistake. I mean Herbertwas wrong. He might as well have let me have my earthly span ofhappiness or folly--call it what you will. "

"You see that now--thank God!"

"Yes, but I see it too late, I did not know it until--until I was dead. Hush!" Again I tried to interrupt her, for I thought her mind waswandering. "I died psychically with Herbert. That was when we first sawthe light on the island. Since then I have lived mechanically, but ithas only been life in so low a form that I do not now know what hashappened between that time and this. And I could not now speak as I amspeaking save by a will power which is costing me very dear. But it isthe only voice you could hear. I do not therefore count the cost. Mybrother's brain so far overmatched my own that it first absorbed andfinally destroyed my mental vitality. This influence removed, I am arudderless ship at sea--bound to perish. "

"May his torments endure for ever. May the nethermost pit of hellreceive him!" I said with a groan of agony. 

But Natalie said: "Hush! I might have lingered on a little longer, but Ichose to concentrate the vital force which would have lasted me a fewmore senile years into the minutes necessary for this message from me toyou--a message I could not have given you if he were not dead. And I amdying so that you may hear it. Dying! My God! I am already dead. "

She seemed to struggle against some force that battled with her, and theroar of many waters was louder around us before she was able to speakagain. 

"Bend lower, Arthur; my strength is failing, and I have not yet saidthat for which I am here. Lower still. 

"I said it is all a mistake--a hideous mistake. Existence as we know itis ephemeral. Suffering is ephemeral. There is nothing everlasting butlove. There is nothing eternal but mind. Your mind is mine. Your love ismine. Your human life may belong to whomsoever you will it. It ought tobelong to that brave girl below. I do not grudge it to her, for I have_you_. We two shall be together through the ages--for ever and for ever. Heart of my heart, you have striven manfully and well, and if you didnot altogether succeed in saving my flesh from premature corruption, besatisfied in that you have my soul. Ah!"

She pressed her hands to her head as if in dreadful pain. When she spokeagain her voice came in short gasps. 

"My brain is reeling. I do not know what I am saying, " she cried, distraught. "I do not know whether I am saying what is true or only whatI imagine to be true. I know nothing but this. I was mesmerised. I havebeen so for two years. But for that I would have been happy in yourlove--for I was a woman before this hideous influence benumbed me. Theytold me it was only a fool's paradise that I missed. But I only knowthat I have missed it. Missed it--and the darkness of death is upon me. "

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

At that moment the great wave broke over the vessel, whirling herhelpless like a cork on the ripples of a mill pond; lashing her withmighty strokes; sweeping in giant cataracts from stern to stem;smashing, tearing everything; deluging her with hissing torrents;crushing her with avalanches of raging foam. Then the ocean tornadopassed on and left the _Esmeralda_ behind, with half the crew disabledand many lost, her decks a mass of wreckage, her masts gone. Thecrippled ship barely floated. When the last torrent of spray passed, andI was able to look to Natalie, her head had drooped down on her breast. I raised her face gently and looked into her wide open eyes. 

She was dead. 

CHAPTER XX. 

CONCLUSION. 

Taking up my girl's body in my arms, I stumbled over thewreck-encumbered deck, and bore it to the state-room she had occupied onthe outward voyage. Percival was too busy attending to wounded sailorsto be interrupted. His services, I knew, were useless now, but I wantedhim to refute or corroborate a conviction which my own medical knowledgehad forced upon me. The thought was so repellent, I clung to any hopewhich might lead to its dispersion. I waited alone with my dead. 

Percival came after an hour, which seemed to me an eternity. Hestammered out some incoherent words of sympathy as soon as he looked inmy face. But this was not the purpose for which I had detached him fromhis pressing duties elsewhere. I made a gesture towards the dead girl. He attended to it immediately. I watched closely and took care that thelight should be on his face, so that I might read his eyes rather thanlisten to his words. 

"She has fainted!" he exclaimed, as he approached the rigid figure. Isaid nothing until he turned and faced me. Then I read his eyes. He saidslowly: "You are aware, Marcel, that--that she is dead?"

"I am. "

"That she has been dead--several hours?"

"I am. "

"But let me think. It was only an hour--"

"No; do not think, " I interrupted. "There are things in this voyagewhich will not bear to be thought of. I thank you for coming so soon. You will forgive me for troubling you when you have so much to doelsewhere. And now leave us alone. I mean, leave me alone. "

He pressed my hand, and went away without a word. I am that man'sfriend. 

They buried her at sea. 

I was happily unconscious at the time, and so was spared that scene. Edith Metford, weak and suffering as she was, went through it all. Shehas told me nothing about it, save that it was done. More than that Icould not bear. And I have borne much. 

The voyage home was a dreary episode. There is little more to tell, andit must be told quickly. Percival was kind, but it distressed me to findthat he now plainly regarded me as weak-minded from the stress of mytrouble. Once, in the extremity of my misery, I began a relation of myadventures to him, for I wanted his help. The look upon his face wasenough for me. I did not make the same mistake again. 

To Anderson I made amends for my extravagant display of temper. Hereceived me more kindly than I expected. I no longer thought of themoney that had passed between us. And, to do him tardy justice, I do notthink he thought of it either. At least he did not offer any of it back. His scruples, I presume, were conscientious. Indeed, I was no longerworth a man's enmity. Sympathy was now the only indignity that could beput upon me. And Anderson did not trespass in that direction. My miserywas, I thought, complete. One note must still be struck in that longdiscord of despair. 

We were steaming along the southern coast of Java. For many hours therugged cliffs and giant rocks which fence the island against theonslaught of the Indian Ocean had passed before us as in review, andwe--Edith Metford and I--sat on the deck silently, with many thoughts incommon, but without the interchange of a spoken word. The stern, forbidding aspect of that iron coast increased the gloom which hadsettled on my brain. Its ramparts of lonely sea-drenched crags depressedme below the mental zero that was now habitual with me. The sun wentdown in a red glare, which moved me not. The short twilight passedquickly, but I noticed nothing. Then night came. The restless seadisappeared in darkness. The grand march past of the silent stars began. But I neither knew nor cared. 

A soft whisper stirred me. 

"Arthur, for God's sake rouse yourself! You are brooding a great dealtoo much. It will destroy you. "

Listlessly I put my hand in hers, and clasped her fingers gently. 

"Bear with me!" I pleaded. 

"I will bear with you for ever. But you must fight on. You have not wonyet. "

"No, nor ever shall. I have fought my last fight. The victory may go towhosoever desires it. "

On this she wept. I could not bear that she should suffer from mymisery, and so, guarding carefully her injured arm, I drew her close tome. And then, out of the darkness of the night, far over the solitude ofthe sea, there came to us the sound of a voice. That voice was a woman'swail. The girl beside me shuddered and drew back. I did not ask her ifshe had heard. I knew she had heard. 

We arose and stood apart without any explanation. From that moment acaress would have been a sacrilege. I did not hear that weird soundagain, nor aught else for an hour or more save the bursting of thebreakers on the crags of Java. 

I kept no record of the commonplaces of our voyage thereafter. It onlyremains for me to say that I arrived in England broken in health andbankrupt in fortune. Brande left no money. His formula for thetransmutation of metals is unintelligible to me. I can make no use ofit. 

Edith Metford remains my friend. To part utterly after what we haveundergone together is beyond our strength. But between us there is anameless shadow, reminiscent of that awful night in the Arafura Sea, when death came very near to us. And in my ears there is always the echoof that voice which I heard by the shores of Java when the mistyborderland between life and death seemed clear. 

My story is told. I cannot prove its truth, for there is much in it towhich I am the only living witness. I cannot prove whether HerbertBrande was a scientific magician possessed of _all_ the powers heclaimed, or merely a mad physicist in charge of a new and terribleexplosive; nor whether Edward Grey ever started for Labrador. Theburthen of the proof of this last must be borne by others--unless it beleft to Grey himself to show whether my evidence is false or true. Ifit be left to him, a few years will decide the issue. 

I am content to wait. 

THE END. 

LONDON: DIGBY, LONG AND CO. , PUBLISHERS, 18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEETSTREET, E. C. 

ROBERT CROMIE'S BOOKS

_OPINIONS OF THE PRESS_

A PLUNGE INTO SPACE

WITH PREFACE BY JULES VERNE

_Times. _--The story is written with considerable liveliness, thescientific jargon is sufficiently perplexing, and the characters aresketched with some humour. 

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

_Athenĉum. _--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... The book is extremely interesting and suggestive; especially, perhaps, where it attacks the theories of Mr. George and "LookingBackwards. "

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_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 areremarkable--a decidedly clever book. 

FOR ENGLAND'S SAKE

_Academy. _--There is not a dull page in the story. 

_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 future iswritten 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 ofscenery, 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 force to alarge circle of readers. 

_Liverpool Daily Post. _--A well-told story of life and love in troubloustimes in India. 

IN SOUTHERN SEAS

WRITTEN IN COLLABORATION WITH W. R. RINGLAND. 

_Athenĉum. _--A bright, compact, and highly readable narrative, full ofincidents, and illustrated with clever little vignettes. 

_Newcastle Chronicle. _--A really charming book--deeply interesting, andfull of capital drawings. 

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

_Spectator. _--A pleasant little book of travel. 

_Leeds Mercury. _--The author relies on vivid description, pointed andracy pictures, and lively and striking incident for interest. 

_Saturday Review. _--Brightly written, and yet more brightly illustrated. 

_The foregoing Books may be had through_ DIGBY, LONG & CO. , 18 BOUVERIESTREET, FLEET STREET, LONDON, E. C. 

_MAY 1895_

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Transcriber's Note:

 Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Inconsistent hyphenation has been standardised. [***] has been used to represent an inverted asterism. 

 Based on the text in the Preface and the concluding lines of the last chapter, the date in the sentence:

 "If we fail to act before the 31st December, in the year 2000, he will proceed. " (p. 151)

 has been amended to the year 1900, bearing in mind the story takes place towards the end of the 19th century.