by Denis Hughes
Dale walked across to the steel door, pausing as he opened it. Looking over his shoulder he smiled at Nargan.
“Don’t forget a few of the interesting facts I was able to tell you yesterday,” he said quietly. “I trust they did not upset you too much. Perhaps we shall have the mutual pleasure of another talk before you leave!”
Nargan only glared, not deigning to answer.
Dale disappeared through the steel door and closed it behind him. Both Nargan and Bentick heard the click of the lock as the key was turned.
Bentick lit a cigarette and drifted over to the window. His thoughts turned to Dale’s Telecopter and what its screen had foreshadowed. Why should he himself stand in the vaulted laboratory with a smoking gun in his hand? Why should Carol be down there again, prey to fear and in need of comforting? What fiendish events were going to happen in that age-old place below the ground?
He could find no answer to the queries that teased his brain, yet had a hunch that behind it all was the sinister Telecopter itself, a presence of evil and a machine that would eventually wreak havoc for those surrounding it.
Nargan finished his meal in something of a hurry. He got up, slapped his stomach resoundingly, and glared at Bentick with a baleful light in his eyes.
“I go now to my room!” he announced curtly. “You will please remain nearby instead of being absent as you were on previous occasions. The moment your country’s representative shows up, inform me. That is an order, you understand? I will brook no disobedience, so do not fail!”
Bentick gave him look for look. “I am not in the habit of making mistakes,” he said quietly. “Is there any other demand you have to make?” He found it extremely difficult to keep the insolent note from his words, but prudence dictated that he must remain on amicable terms—at any rate outwardly—with Nargan. To rib the man further would only make things even more difficult than they already were.
Nargan scowled at him. “I have no further orders at the moment,” he said at length. “Now I leave you, but remember what I have said.”
He turned on his heel and started for the door. Just as he reached it Professor Dale opened the laboratory door and poked his head round the corner. Nargan halted abruptly staring at him.
Dale grinned in an impish fashion.
“Don’t forget what I told you yesterday, Nargan,” he whispered. “The Future is dangerous for you. There is violence in the air! Remember that!”
Before Nargan could answer the Professor had slammed the door again and disappeared once more.
Bentick looked at the foreigner curiously. The man was pale with an ashy tint to his sallow skin. A livid patch showed on his cheek as he stood there breathing hard, fingers clenching and unclenching spasmodically as fear took a grip on his nerves.
“The Professor talks in riddles,” said Bentick with an attempt at lightness.
Nargan controlled himself with enormous effort. He rounded on Bentick like a cornered tiger.
“I will give him riddles before I am through in this cursed country!” he snarled. “He will regret all his clever talk and the things he produces by trickery! I shall break the man completely, I tell you! Wait till I speak to your representative. That will finish this cocksure Professor of yours!”
Bentick smiled sourly.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” he murmured.
Nargan snorted and marched from the room without another word. Bentick smiled again and watched him leave.
CHAPTER 12
DALE AND THE V.I.P.
When Nargan had left the kitchen Bentick stayed behind for several minutes deep in thought. His chief worry was what would happen when the other half of the conference arrived. Would the V.I.P., who was representing Britain, know Nargan for what he was? Had they ever met before? What kind of impact would the foreigner have on a shrewd man of state such as would meet him in this lonely house on the Cornish moors?
Only time could supply the answers to Bentick’s questions, but the interval was a worrying one and it had to be filled in somehow.
He toyed with the idea of going down to the laboratory for another talk with Professor Dale. He wondered if he should go up and see Carol again. They had not achieved a great deal between them when he took her breakfast up. What he did in the end was to drift along to the library and while away an hour in sitting near the window with the warming sunlight streaming through the casements and spilling on the floor around him. He could not force his mind to concentrate on a book. There were many things he could not even think about clearly. One of those was the influence of the Telecopter. He knew it to be an evil thing, but how it could be fought he had no idea. Why did Dale have to go and invent a devil’s instrument of that sort? It was asking for trouble to probe the Future.
But speculation didn’t pay many dividends as Bentick soon discovered.
The morning passed quietly enough. Bentick saw no further sign of either Carol or the Professor. Nargan kept strictly to himself behind a locked door upstairs. Either he was taking no chances or his own inmost fear was too great to brave the remainder of the household should he meet them by accident.
At five minutes to mid-day Bentick was startled from one of his reveries by the sound of’ a car coming up the overgrown drive of the house and halting at the front door with a crunch of gravel beneath its tyres.
Getting to his feet he glanced through the library window and saw a sleek looking car with a second one in attendance behind. This second one was bearing the colours of the Police Department. Even as Bentick watched doors opened and uniformed men stepped out. An immaculate individual in smart morning clothes alighted from the leading vehicle. He carried a bulging brief case under one arm and glanced about him inquiringly.
One of the police officers started towards the door, but by then Bentick himself had left the library and was going down the hallway to meet the visitor.
He had recognised the man’s identity at once, for Victor Barringville was a national figure. It had been through his clever agency that a world war had been averted some ten years previously, and although a comparatively young member of the statesmen he was acknowledged as being one of the most capable in the country.
How he and Nargan would get along was a matter that intrigued Bentick enormously.
Bentick reached the front door before anyone outside could knock. He opened the door and stood aside, smiling pleasantly at Barringville and the tall police officer who accompanied him. Barringville was usually very averse to having an escort, but on this occasion it had apparently been considered essential that he should be accompanied.
The immaculate statesman surveyed Bentick with eyes that had a humorous twinkle behind them.
“So you’re Bentick, are you?” he said, as he stepped through the open door. “I’ve heard of you. Cain gave me some very good reports on your work. I hope everything has been going on satisfactorily down here?”
Bentick hesitated. “On the whole it has,” he answered. “Though there are one or two matters I’d like to mention to you in private, sir. But come into the library. I’ll just inform Nargan that you’re here.”
But Barringville stopped him.
“No particular hurry,” he said. “What is this man like, Bentick? I’ve never met him before, and the issues are so grave that I’d value an outside opinion on his character before forming my own. At the moment I only have hearsay to go by.”
Bentick was surprised. That an eminent man such as Barringville should ask his opinion was disturbing as well as flattering. Should he tell the statesman what he thought? Or should he make some evasion and leave that part of it to Professor Dale?
Barringville read his embarrassment plainly enough.
“Don’t be afraid to tell me exactly what you think of the man,” he said. “I’m led to believe that you’re a pretty shrewd young man, and a few moment ago you spoke of certain delicate matters that worried you.”
Bentick grinned a trifle sheepishly.
“We
ll, sir, in that case,” he said, “I’ll be quite frank with you. Nargan is one of the most detestable people I have ever run across. But quite apart from a strong personal dislike of him I do not trust him either. He is what I would call a double dealer. If you won’t be offended I should like to say that I advise the utmost caution in dealing with the man.”
Barringville watched him narrowly as he spoke. Then he nodded soberly.
“I was already prepared to do so,” he murmured. “Now the idea is confirmed. Thank you, Bentick. You’ve been most helpful.” He smiled in his usual urbane, charming manner. “There is nothing quite like someone else’s first-hand experience to assist one in basing an opinion.”
Bentick grinned. “You’re very kind, sir,” he said. “And now shall I go and tell him you’re here? He1 gave me strict injunctions to do so the moment you arrived. He is not enjoying his visit very much, I’m afraid, and is anxious to get this meeting done with so that he can return to his own country. He’s a very rude man, and doesn’t pull his punches!”
Barringville smiled. “So I’ve already gathered,” he said dryly. “Yes, perhaps you had better let him know I’m here, but, first of all, where is Professor Dale?”
Bentick rubbed his chin for an instant. “The last time I saw him he was going down to his underground lab,” he answered. “He specially asked me to tell him when you came as well. You’re a much sought-after man, sir! Who shall I tell first?” Bentick grinned at the immaculate statesman. Barringville smiled back.
“I know Dale very well indeed,” he murmured. “Perhaps it would be as well to have a word with him before I go into conference with Nargan. It is only fair considering that this is his house and we are making a convenience of his good-heartedness.”
Bentick nodded quickly. “If you stay here, sir. I’ll go and tell him you’d like a word with him,” he said.
Barringville sat himself down in Bentick’s vacated chair and stretched his long legs out straight in front of his lean, muscular body. His hands were thin, but remarkably capable looking. His face was handsome, yet showed traces of the strain under which he often worked. There was also a hint of the iron will inside him that showed in his eyes and the line of his jaw. Barringville was an ideal man to handle a deal with Nargan. He was an ideal man to handle any deal, come to that.
Bentick went through to the kitchen as quickly as he could. He did not want Nargan to discover he was telling the Professor of Barringville’s arrival before informing the foreigner. There was a chance that the man might already have heard the two cars draw up, of course, but if so he would come down from upstairs without being fetched.
In the kitchen Bentick found that the steel door to the laboratory steps was locked. He looked round and discovered a small bell push beside the framework. Putting his thumb on the button, he pressed it firmly.
The period of waiting seemed interminable to Bentick, but at long last the steel door opened soundlessly and Professor Dale stood before him, an inquiring look on his face and a long-bladed screwdriver in one hand.
Bentick smiled uncertainly. He could not quite tell what sort of mood the scientist was in right then. Dale was a very deceptive man, difficult to weigh up at a moment’s notice.
“Oh, excuse me, Professor,” Bentick began, “but I thought you’d like to know that Barringville has arrived. You did ask me to let you know at once, if you remember.”
The Professor’s face altered in some subtle fashion that was hard to describe. Then he beamed at Bentick.
“Ah yes, of course!” he said hurriedly. “I was busy, but it doesn’t matter in the least. Where is he? Have you made him comfortable, young man?”
“As well as I could,” answered Bentick. “He’s in the library now. He said he’d like a word with you before he sees Nargan. Will you come along, or shall I tell him to join you in the lab?”
Dale hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he made up his mind. Thrusting the screwdriver in the top pocket of his stained overalls, he pushed past the agent and hastened from the kitchen, leaving the steel door open and the faint but insistent hum of the generator whining through the air.
Bentick glanced through the door at the passage beyond. He wondered if the professor had left the Telecopter in action and what he would see if he broke all the rules and went down to take a look.
He might have risked it had not a sudden eruption of noise sounded loudly from somewhere upstairs.
Bentick sighed as he recognised the bull-like roar of an infuriated Nargan on the rampage.
Quickly drawing the steel door to, he hurried from the kitchen and went to the foot of the stairs. Nargan was standing at the top, quivering with mingled rage and nerves. At sight of Bentick he stopped his bellowing shouts for the agent and glared at him savagely.
“Why was I not informed that your upstart politician was here?” he demanded.
Bentick stole a glance at the door of the library. It was closed. Dale and Barringville must have heard Nargan shouting. They must be able to hear what he had just said, too, but they apparently meant to remain out of sight till Barringville was ready to receive him. Bentick caught the eye of the uniformed police officer standing guard at the front door of the house. The police officer gave an imperceptible shrug and raised his eyebrows slightly. Bentick gave him a fleeting wink.
“Our visitor is refreshing himself after the journey,” Bentick said, turning his attention to Nargan again.
Nargan snarled something incomprehensible and tramped away, making for his own room again.
“He shall wait for me in that case!” he snapped, as he disappeared. “Call me in an hour’s time!”
Bentick grinned and spread his hands helplessly. He felt he was not shining very brightly in his handling of this particular affair. His only consolation was that in all probability an hour’s interval would please Barringville well enough, for it would give him a chance to talk with Dale and form his own ideas. Bentick decided to have a word with the statesman himself on the subject of Dale and the Telecopter. He felt that someone other than those in the immediate household ought to know about it. If that someone was anyone as reliable as Barringville there could be no harm in talking about it. In any event, he guessed that Dale himself would probably have told the great man of his latest invention. The Professor was not the type to hide a thing like the Telecopter from people such as Barringville. But what Barringville would not know was the queer and frightening effect the machine could have on those who watched its screen.
Standing outside the library door, Bentick found that it was not quite closed, as he had at first imagined. He could hear the scientist and Barringville talking together. The statesman was asking how Dale was progressing with his work.
Dale said: “My dear fellow, I have recently made the greatest discovery of my career. Using cosmic radiation and the echoes of events in the cosmos, I have created a machine that can televise things which have happened or will happen in the future. Given time, there is no limit to the far-reaching results this apparatus will achieve. I shall have pleasure in giving you a personal demonstration before you leave here.”
Barringville was obviously intrigued by his tone when he said he would be delighted.
Dale went on: “I have already foreseen some kind of violence taking place down there. I hope it may lead to the death of Nargan, for the man is a traitor to everyone. If you are wise, you will give him no information whatever, as you plan to do.”
Bentick heard a stiffness in Barringville’s voice.
“Professor,” he said, “that is a matter which rests entirely with me. You can rely on my not making any mistakes in this business. Since the very safety of the world may depend on this meeting, I shall give it due thought and consideration. I must ask you not to interfere in any way, and as for Nargan dying in this house, the very idea of his death or injury appals me. That is all I can say.”
CHAPTER 13
SECRET CONFERENCE
Bentick smiled faintly to h
imself as he stood outside the door and listened to Barringville’s words. That, he reflected, should tell the Professor to watch his step! But Dale was a persevering man. His work itself was a monument to perseverance, for of its very quality it demanded the utmost concentration and patience.
Bentick heard him laugh gently, then:
“You sound quite pompous, Barringville!” he chuckled. “That is all you can say, is it? Let me warn you that Nargan is not a straight-dealing man as you are ready to believe. I have seen into the Future, my friend, and I can also sense his treachery. The others will probably tell you the same. Bentick, for instance, has had quite a 1ot to do with the man. He does not like him any more than I do, and I doubt if he trusts him as far.” Again he laughed. “In fact,” he added, “I have an idea that Bentick does not trust me very much!”
“Bentick is a shrewd young man,” said Barringville. “I have a lot of faith in him, Dale, but I do not think he would make a mistake like that. However, I cannot spare you more time now for this interesting discussion. Nargan will be growing restless and impatient, and I have no doubt that in such a mood he will be even more difficult to deal with than otherwise. We shall see!”
Bentick heard a chair pushed back, and knocked on the door before Barringville could reach it.
“You heard Nargan yelling a little while ago, sir?” he asked as the statesman appeared.
Barringville nodded. “Yes,” he admitted ruefully. “It seems that the man is just as rude as you told me he was! However, that cannot be helped. What did he have to say?” He paused. “I missed the last few remarks he made before fading out.”
“They weren’t important,” answered Bentick. “He told me to call him in an hour. He said he’d be ready to see you then, the idea being to make you wait for him instead of the other way about. A most offensive person.”
Barringville’s mouth contracted slightly. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m beginning to think so myself, after what I’ve heard and been told. However, there is no hurry as far as I am concerned, and by the time he’s ready he will probably be in a better temper.” He gave Bentick a smile.