Whispers at Dawn; Or, The Eye

by Roy J. Snell

  E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)

  Transcriber's note:

  Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

  A Mystery Story for Boys

  WHISPERS AT DAWN

  or The Eye

  by

  ROY J. SNELL

  The Reilly & Lee Co.Chicago

  Copyright, 1934by the Reilly & Lee Co.Printed in the U.S.A.

  _AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

  _Fantastic as the happenings recorded in this book may at times seem,they are, nevertheless, a fairly exact recording of the feats of magicalready accomplished by the electrical wizards of our time._

  Roy J. Snell.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I Three Black Boxes 11 II Something Rather Terrible 28 III The Battle 39 IV Back in the Old Shack 48 V Past and Present 57 VI A Store in Chicago 62 VII The Unholy Five 73 VIII Down a Beam of Light 78 IX Cut Adrift 85 X A Runaway Captured 92 XI A Room of Strange Magic 103 XII The Whisperer Returns 109 XIII So Long as God Gives Us Breath 124 XIV A Human Spider 134 XV A Living Picture 145 XVI A Strange Treasure 155 XVII "The Eye" 164 XVIII The Trap Is Sprung 171 XIX A Whisper from Afar 183 XX The Sky Slider 193 XXI Christmas Eve 204 XXII The Warning 214 XXIII A Promise That Is a Threat 221 XXIV A Strange Victory 231 XXV The Whisperer Talks 240

  WHISPERS AT DAWN or _The Eye_

  CHAPTER I THREE BLACK BOXES

  As Johnny Thompson put out a hand to ring the door bell of thatbrownstone house facing the deserted grounds of the Chicago Century ofProgress and the lake, the door opened without a sound. He looked up,expecting to see a face, hear a voice, perhaps. The voice came: "Stepinside, please." But there was no face. The space before him was empty.

  A little puzzled, he stepped into the narrow passageway. Instantly in aslow, silent manner that seemed ominous, the door closed behind him.

  The place was all but dark. Certainly there was no lamp; only a curiousblue illumination everywhere. A little frightened, he put out a hand togrip the door knob. It did not give to his touch. Indeed it was immovableas the branch of an oak.

  "Locked!" he muttered. Then for a space of seconds his heart went wild.From the wall to the right of him had flashed a pencil of white light.Like an accusing finger it fell upon something on the opposite wall. Andthat something was an eye, an eye in the wall,--or so it seemed to theboy. And even as he stared, with lips parted, breath coming short andquick, the thing appeared to wink.

  "The eye!" he whispered, and again, "the eye!"

  For a space of many seconds, like a bird charmed by a snake, he stoodstaring at that eye.

  And then cold terror seized him. In the corner of the place he haddetected some movement. It was off to his right. Whirling about, he foundhimself staring at--of all the terrible things in that eerie light--askeleton.

  And even as he stared, ready to sink to the floor in sheer terror, theskeleton appeared to move, to tremble, to open and close its fleshlesshands.

  He watched the thing for ten terrible seconds. Then a thought struck himwith the force of a blow.

  "That--" he whispered as if afraid the thing might hear, "that is me!That is my own skeleton!"

  Of this there could be no doubt. For, as he lifted his right hand, theskeleton did the same. As he bobbed his head, the thing before himbobbed. And if further evidence were lacking, the thing had a crookedthird finger, and so had he.

  Then, as if ashamed of being discovered, the terrifying image vanishedand the eye in the wall blinked out. Instantly the door at the inner endof the hall opened. There, standing in a flood of mellow light, was agirl of about his own age. She was smiling at him and shaking her mass ofgolden hair.

  "Come in," she welcomed. "But--but you seem so frightened!" She stared athim for a second.

  "Oh!" There was consternation in her tone. "Felix left that terriblething on! How can you ever forgive us?

  "But please do come in." Her tone changed. "You came about Father'sbooks? How generous of you. Poor Father! His head is so full of things!He is always forgetting."

  Johnny stepped inside. The door closed itself noiselessly.

  "What kind of a house of magic is this?" he asked himself. "Doors closethemselves. Eyes gleam at you from the wall. You see your own skeleton inthe dark!"

  The room he had entered seemed ordinary enough--plain furniture, adavenport, chairs, a table. But the light! He stared about him. The roomwas filled with mellow light, yet there was not a single lamp to be seen.

  "Comes from everywhere and nowhere, that light," he whispered to himself.

  "Let me take your hat." The girl held out her hand. She seemed a nicesort of girl, rather boyish. When she walked it was with a long stride,as if she were wearing knickers on a hike.

  "I--I'll call Father." She marched across the floor.

  Johnny started from his chair, then settled back. Had he caught the gleamof an eye blinking from the wall? He thought so. But now it had vanished.

  The girl was still three paces from the door at the back of the roomwhen, with a silence that was startling, that door swung open.

  Johnny looked closely. The hall beyond was lighted. There was no one tobe seen.

  As if this was quite the usual thing, the girl marched straight throughthe open door. At once it closed behind her.

  Johnny was alone.

  If you have followed his career in our other books you will know thatJohnny is no coward. He had been in tight places more than once. Personsmuch older than he had said he bore up under strain remarkably well. Forall that, this place gave him the creeps. That it was not in the bestpart of the city he knew well enough. This brownstone house, as we havealready said, was just across from the deserted Century of Progressgrounds, and faced the lake. Back of it were shabby tenements and dingyshops where second-hand goods were sold and where auctioneers hung outtheir red flags.

  "Rather senseless, the whole business," he mumbled to himself. "Fellowgets into all sorts of strange messes trying to fight other people'sbattles for them. And yet--"

  His thoughts broke off. A small red light like an evil eye flashed abovethe outer door, then blinked out. A faint buzzing sound came from aclock-like affair on the wall. Then all was silent as before.

  "The professor's house," he muttered. "Queer place! Why did I come?Couldn't help it really. It was the boxes--the three black boxes."

  Ah yes, those thre
e black boxes! First they had intrigued him, then theyhad aroused his interest and sympathy. After that there was just nothingto it. He had invested all but his last dollar in those three blackboxes. Now he was trying to get his money back and do someone else a goodturn as well.

  "But it seems," he whispered to himself, "there are dragons in the way,gleaming eyes, skeletons. All--"

  The red light flashed again, three times. The clock buzzed louder.

  "Wish she'd come."

  He rose to pace slowly back and forth across this room of many mysteries.

  It was truly strange, he thought, the course of events leading up to thismoment. After a considerable stay in the wilds of Michigan he hadreturned to the city of Chicago. On his arrival he had gone at once tothe shack. The shack, on Grand Avenue, as you will know if you have read"Arrow of Fire," was occupied by Drew Lane, a keen young city detective,and such of his friends as happened to be about.

  To his great disappointment, Johnny had found the shades down, the doorlocked. "Must be away," he told himself. At once he found himself all butovercome by a feeling of loneliness. Who can blame him? What is lonelierthan a city where one has not a single friend?

  Johnny had other friends in Chicago. Doubtless he would chance upon themin time. For the present he was completely alone.

  "Be rather amusing," he told himself, "to try going it alone. Wonder howlong it will be before someone will slap me on the back and shout,'Hello, Johnny Thompson!'"

  Having recalled the fact that at noon on every Tuesday of the year arather unusual auction was held, he had decided to dispel his lonelinessby mingling in the motley mob that attended that auction.

  There for an hour he had watched without any great interest theauctioneer's hammer rise and fall as he sold a bicycle, a box of clocks,a damaged coffin, an artificial arm, three trunks with contents, if any,two white puppies in a crate and a bird in a cage--all lost or damagedwhile being carried by a great express company.

  It was only when the Three Black Boxes were trundled out that hisinterest was aroused.

  "This," he heard the auctioneer say in a low tone to a man seated near,"is a professor's library. He hasn't come to claim the shipment, so weare forced to sell his books."

  "A professor's library! Poor fellow! What will he do without his books?"Johnny had said to the man next to him. "A professor without books islike a juggler without hands."

  "A professor's library." The words had intrigued him. The very wordprofessor had a glorious sound to him. They had been so good to him, theprofessors of his college.

  Without more than half willing it, he had begun bidding on those threeheavy black boxes filled with books. In the end they were his, and hispockets were all but empty.

  After the affair was over he had hunted up the auctioneer and secured thename and address of the professor.

  "I'll sell the books back to him," he said to the auctioneer. "Surely he_must_ have some money, or will have in a month or two."

  "Well, maybe." The auctioneer had shaken his head. "Lots of folks prettypoor these days. Too bad!"

  "And this," Johnny told himself as he continued to pace the floor of thatmysterious room, "is the professor's house. Seems more like the haunts ofan evil genius."

  He felt an almost irresistible desire to find his way out of the placeand make a dash for it. But there were the books. He must manage to gethis money back somehow. He had hoped the professor might be able to payhim the money and take the library.

  "Cost hundreds of dollars in the first place, those books," he murmured."You'd think--"

  Again he broke off to listen and stare. Strange noises, curious flashesof light, and then the door swung open. The golden-haired girl appeared.The door closed behind her.

  "He--he'll be here soon." She seemed breathless. "He--he's working atsomething, a--a sort of trap. Do you know," she whispered, "this is aterrible neighborhood--truly frightful! That is why we live here."

  "Curious sort of reason," the boy thought, but he said never a word, forat that instant the clock-like affair on the wall began buzzing loudly,the red light blinked six times in quick succession.

  "Oh!" There was consternation in the girl's voice.

  Seizing the astonished boy by the arm, she dragged him to a corner of theroom. There he found himself looking at what appeared to be a narrowstrip of mirror.

  Upon that mirror moving objects began to appear. Before his astonishedeyes these spots arranged themselves into the form of two skeletons, onetall, one short. Dangling from the hip-bone of the tall skeleton was whatappeared to be a long knife. Again the girl whispered, "Oh!"

  But the short skeleton! Trembling so it appeared to dance, it slipped aknife along its bony wrist to at last grip it firmly in its skeletonfingers.

  The girl touched a button here, another there. The thing on the wallbuzzed. Words were spoken outside the door, indistinct words. Theskeletons disappeared. There came the sound of a door closing.

  "They--they're gone!" The girl sighed.

  Catching a slight sound of movement behind him, Jimmy whirled about tofind himself looking into a pair of smiling blue eyes. "Here," he thoughtto himself, "is the girl's father, the professor." There were the samefeatures, the same shock of golden hair.

  "I am Professor Van Loon," the man said in a voice that was low,melodious and dreamy.

  "Beth here tells me you bought my books," he went on. "That was kind ofyou. We've been moving about a great deal. The books have followed ushere and there. Charges piled up. Until quite recently money has beenscarce. Then, I confess, I forgot. In these days one is likely to forgethis choicest treasures."

  He turned to the girl. "Beth, who was at the door just now?"

  "Two men." She trembled slightly. "They carried knives, so I opened thedoor on the outside. They--they hurried away."

  "I dare say!" The professor chuckled dryly.

  "Press the button, Beth," the professor said, nodding his head toward theright wall. "Our guest will stay for cocoa and cakes, I am sure. Thatright?" he asked, turning to Johnny.

  "I will, yes," Johnny agreed.

  The girl pressed a button like a lamp switch in the wall.

  The boy's feelings were mixed. He wanted to stay. These people interestedhim and there were a hundred mysteries to solve,--living skeletons, eyesblinking from the walls, self-opening doors, lights that gleamed andclocks that buzzed.

  A fresh mystery was added when five minutes later the girl pressed asecond button and a tray laden with cups, saucers, a plate of cakes and apot of steaming cocoa appeared.

  "The 'Eye' did it for us," the professor explained in a matter-of-facttone. "In these days one scarcely needs a servant even when he is able toafford one."

  Perhaps Johnny would have said, "What is the 'Eye'?" but at that momentthe door at the rear opened and a tall youth with tumbled red hairappeared.

  The professor rose. "Son, meet Johnny Thompson. Now we are all here."

  When, two hours later, Johnny left this place of enchantment, his headwas in a whirl.

  "Just goes to show," he chuckled to himself, "that when you do an unusualstunt anything may happen--just anything at all."

  Several things _had_ happened in the last two hours. He had come to havea high regard for the professor and his family. He had received paymentin full for the professor's library and a ten dollar bill thrown in forgood measure.

  "Boy alive!" the professor had exclaimed when he hesitated to accept thisextra ten. "If some shark that haunts those auctions had got my books itwould have cost me a small fortune to redeem them."

  All this had happened, and much more.

  "Best of all," Johnny whispered to himself, "I am no longer alone. I'vemade a place for myself." Just what sort of place it was, he did notsurely know.

  "I should like to have you cast in your lot with us," the professor hadsaid. "A boy who thinks of others, as you have done in this libraryaffair, is sure to be of service anywhere.

  "We do strange and interesting thi
ngs here." The professor's eyes hadtwinkled. "Sometimes they are useful and practical; sometimes they arenot. Always they are absorbing, at times quite too startling. At times wehave money, at others none. Just now we are quite rich." He chuckled."Someone offered us a great deal of money for an electric contraptionthat sorts beans, sorts a car load a day. Who wants that many beans?" Hechuckled again. "Anyway we have money and they can sort beans. Moneymeans material, equipment for fresh experiments. You will come with us?"He squinted at Johnny.

  "Yes. Yes, sure." Johnny scarcely knew what leg he was standing on."Queer business!" was his mental comment.

  "We will exact only one promise," the professor continued. "You'll notpry into our secrets. Such secrets as we entrust to you you will divulgeto no man. Do you promise?"

  "I promise."

  "You'll learn a lot and enjoy the work a heap," the son had said toJohnny.

  "I want you to know," the professor had added in a sober tone, "that ifyou come with us you may be in some danger; in fact I'm quite certainthat I can promise it, yet it will never be foolhardy nor recklessdanger. You'll come to live with us. That is necessary."

  "That's O.K.," Johnny had agreed.

  And now Johnny found himself outside in the cool air of night, the lakebreeze fanning his cheek, wondering if it all--the living skeletons, eyesblinking in the wall, the self-closing doors--all had been a dream.

  "No!" He crushed the roll of bills in his pocket. "No, it was realenough. I--"

  Suddenly two shadows materialized from a doorway, one tall, one short.

  "The--the two men of the living skeletons, the ones that girl and I sawin the mirror!" he whispered, catching his breath sharply. If there hadbeen any question in his mind regarding this last conclusion it wasdispelled instantly. An inch of white steel, a knife blade, protrudedfrom the short person's sleeve as he muttered menacingly, "Stand whereyou are!"