by Denis Hughes
The Professor came out of the library at that moment and shot a glance at Bentick. There was some meaning behind it, but the agent could not put his finger on it. He felt that Dale was playing some cagey kind of game that was all his own, and the notion worried him a great deal.
Both he and Barringville watched the figure of Dale disappear in the direction of the kitchen and his under¬ground laboratory.
Barringville frowned in a puzzled fashion.
“A strange man,” he murmured, “but remarkably clever.”
Bentick nodded. “Rather too clever for mv liking,” he said. “I hope I’m not treading on anyone’s toes, sir, but I think that Dale is more than a little mad, and he’s toying with things that are far more dangerous than high explosive or atomic force. I don’t know how much he told you about the Telecopter, but when you see the thing you’ll understand what I mean.”
Barringville eyed him inquiringly.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked quietly.
“There’s something uncanny about its influence,” said Bentick. “It not only does what the Professor claims, but it destroys a man’s will power as well. Anything that does that can’t be good, can it?”
Barringville shifted his gaze. “I can’t form an opinion yet,” he replied evasively. “Dale and I have been friends for many years. I know he’s eccentric, of course, but it’s hard to say whether he’s actually mad or not. A small thing might make him so, and Genius and Madness are close together; but I don’t want to say any more.”
“Of course not, sir,” said Bentick quickly. “It was only an idea I had. This Telecopter thing has already done damage since Dale made it work.”
“Has it indeed?” Barringville murmured. “In what way, Bentick?”
“Carol Collins, the Professor’s ward, felt its emanation so strongly that she cracked up under it,” said Bentick quietly. “I’ve advised her to remain in her room till Nargan has left. What with him and the Telecopter, I thought it best to keep her clear of things.”
The statesman frowned. “You raise my interest in this machine the more I hear about it,” he mused. “I shall certainly persuade Dale to give me a demonstration as soon as possible. He’s already said he would.”
Bentick gave him a doubtful look. “You’re as curious as I was at first, sir,” he observed. “I hope you don’t feel as scared of the wretched thing as I did afterwards!”
Barringville grinned at him humorously. “Maybe I shall,” he admitted, “ but no one ever gets far till they’ve proved themselves right or wrong. Professor Dale, for instance, spends his life proving things like that.”
Bentick nodded a trifle grimly. “Maybe you’re right, sir,” he grunted. “Anyhow, it’s really none of my affair, so forgive me for seeming to interfere.”
Barringville said he hadn’t taken Bentick’s remarks in that light at all. “Now perhaps Nargan will be prepared to receive me,” he added a little sarcastically. “Will you be good enough to convey my respects to the gentleman?”
Bentick grinned. “With pleasure, sir!” he answered.
“I’ll wait in the library,” Barringville called as Bentick turned away. “Don’t let anyone disturb us, will you? I’ve already given the police officer instructions to post a guard on the door, but he isn’t going to do it till Nargan joins me.”
“Right!” answered Bentick briefly. “I’ll be around if you want me, sir.”
Halfway up the stairs he glanced back, seeing the tall statesman standing by the library door watching him with a faint smile on his lips. Bentick continued his way up the stairs.
He knocked on Nargan’s door and waited. There was an appreciable interval before the foreigner answered, and then Bentick heard the key grate harshly as Nargan turned it.
The two of them stood for a moment or so staring at each other in silence.
Bentick said: “Are you ready for the conference ? Our man is waiting in the library. No one will disturb you while you talk.”
Nargan showed his teeth in a wolfish grin.
“He shall wait a little longer!” he snapped. “Then I shall take great pleasure in meeting him and showing him that I am not a man to trifle with! Nor is my country a puny state such as yours! Britain must come to heel as other nations have in the past, and I, Nargan, shall ensure that she does!”
Bentick compressed his lips. “I trust you will have no further complaints to make when you achieve your object,” he murmured tightly. “This is a matter of lasting peace for the world. We I shall do all we can to preserve it. Any move in the opposite direction will be your doing, Nargan, not ours. I will leave you to make your own way down to the library.”
He left Nargan standing where he was, because he knew that if he remained himself he would say things that Barringville would not thank him for.
Nargan returned into his own room and slammed the door behind him.
Bentick went down the stairs quickly. His nerves were raw-edged. He knew it was not entirely on account of what Nargan had said. Ever since he had witnessed those eerie things on the screen of the Telecopter and fallen victim to its insidious spell, his nerves had been ragged. Now the build-up was increasing in pressure for some strange reason he could not fathom. Perhaps, he thought sourly, Dale was playing with his toy again. Perhaps those intangible emanations could reach out to people’s minds even when they themselves could not actually see the screen.
He felt a strong urge to go down to the laboratory. It was just as if some power beyond his control was calling to him imperatively. Only with the greatest difficulty did he succeed in fighting the instinctive prompting that made him turn his eyes in the direction of the kitchen as he reached the hall.
“Curse this scientific magic!” he muttered. “Dale and the things he does will be the death of someone before he’s through.” He caught himself up on the words. There was a certain prophetic ring about them that worried him. He hoped it was nothing but an association of ideas, but he was still troubled in his mind.
Going to the library instead of the kitchen, he told Barringville that Nargan would be down in his own good time. The statesman frowned, but there was nothing that either of them could do to hurry the foreigner. To do so would only make the situation trickier to handle than it was already.
“All right, Bentick, and thank you for all you’ve done since I came,” said Barringville. “Don’t let things worry you. It doesn’t help in the least, and I’m gradually getting the hang of the atmosphere in this house. It isn’t particularly pleasant, I agree, but I have known worse.”
“Wait till the Professor’s through with the Telecopter,” answered Bentick darkly. “There aren’t many worse things than that, I assure you!”
Barringville only smiled. Bentick realised he had no right to speak to the great man in the way he’d been doing and beat a hasty retreat.
Some prompting urged him to make for the kitchen, but before he had passed the foot of the stairway Nargan came down them slowly and carefully.
He ignored Bentick as if he did not exist, going straight to the library door and throwing it open without the courtesy of a knock.
Bentick hesitated, watching as a police officer from outside the front door appeared and went silently to stand with his back to the library entrance. They eyed each other and nodded, then Bentick turned away again, wondering how Barringville and Nargan were hitting it off at this, their first and probably last meeting.
The urge to go to the kitchen came again, but this time Bentick was ready for it and purposefully altered his direction towards the stairs. He wanted to find out how Carol was feeling, and now seemed as good an opportunity as any he was likely to get before he left the house.
Tapping her door panel lightly, he waited, listening with his head on one side. She wasted little time in answering his knock, and he was glad to see that she looked less strained than she had done on the last occasion he had seen and talked to her.
“Come in,” she invited, standin
g aside as he hesitated. “What news have you got? I heard cars pull up. Is it the other half of the conference with Nargan?”
Bentick nodded, stepped into the sun-lit room and glanced round.
He remembered the feeling of tenderness he had experienced when he beheld himself on the Telecopter screen comforting this girl at some moment not yet arrived. There was a queer kind of torment in the memory. Bentick crushed it down and tried to sound matter-of-fact.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Our man and Nargan are now holding their meeting. I’m free of my duties for a short time, and then I hope I’ll be shot of Nargan for good.”
“Where is the Professor?” asked Carol tensely. “I have a feeling that he’s got the Telecopter working again. Can you sense it in the atmosphere, Bentick? It’s odd, but the idea is so strong that I can’t get it out of my head. Queer, isn’t it?” She watched him anxiously as if she expected him to laugh at her.
Bentick frowned a little. So he was not alone in the strange sensation that seemed to come from far below them. “It is queer,” he admitted. “I can feel it myself, but you mustn’t let it get you down. Barringville, the man who has come to see Nargan, is going to see Dale’s Telecopter later on. If he feels as we do about what its potentials are I should think he’d take steps to warn the Professor of what he’s doing. That machine could never bring good to humanity. I’m sure of that!”
“You’ve seen it again, Bentick, haven’t you?” she said accusingly. “I know you have, so don’t deny it. You must have been down to the lab last night after I’d come to my room and locked myself in. What did you see on that screen? You’ve got to tell me! I know there’s danger in the air. I’m too sensitive not to realise it,”
Bentick swallowed painfully. How could he tell her what he’d seen? And how could he be sure that she wouldn’t fall prey to that influence and leave her room? In his heart he knew that she would eventually enter the vaulted laboratory again. Foreshadowed events made that as certain as anything ever could be. The idea worried him more and more.
“If there’s danger it doesn’t concern you yourself,” he replied slowly. “Don’t worry, my dear. This is all coming right in the end.”
She met his gaze steadily. “I hope so,” she said.
CHAPTER 14
INVITATION TO A VAULT
“I’m sure of it,” went on Bentick quickly, taking advantage of the note of uncertainty in her voice. “If there’s danger in the future it isn’t levelled against yourself, but others.”
“Yet I can’t feel as positive as you about it,” she answered quietly. “I wish I could, but I can’t. There are so many shadows at the back of my mind, you see? I’m moving through a fog that began in the laboratory, but now it’s stretched and stretched till it reaches me even here.”
He tone rose slightly as she spoke. She was near to breaking point.
“Steady on,” said Bentick firmly. “You’re not going to crack up like that! If there’s a crisis on the way you’ve got to be tough enough to stand it. Just leave everything to me and stay in here whatever happens. It won’t be for very much longer, because I’ve got a hunch that anything that’s going to happen will happen while Nargan is still in this house. And he’s leaving tonight, don’t forget.”
Carol looked at him steadily. She seemed to be surer of herself now, and Bentick felt glad about it. But when she spoke again there was a queer kind of chill in her words. “I wonder if you’re right,” she said, “I wonder if he will leave?”
“For heavens’ sake don’t say things like that!” Bentick grunted. “You’ll have me scared as well as yourself!”
“Sorry,” she answered with a faint smile. “Maybe you’d better go now. It’s helped a lot to talk to you, Bentick. You’re a pretty good leaning post, you know.”
He laughed unsteadily. “Come to that you aren’t so bad yourself,” he said softly. “I can’t deny that I find talking to you a very great help indeed. Now I’ll leave you in peace and get downstairs again to wait for the others to finish their conference. By then I suppose we shall have the Professor on the scene again,” He frowned. “It’s him I’m worried about as much as anyone, you know. He’s the cause of all the trouble really, but there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it. Even Barringville seems to think he’s all right—if a little eccentric!”
Carol turned away and walked to the window, standing before it and staring out at the lonely sweep of moorland beyond. She saw nothing because her eyes were unseeing, but the thoughts in her brain brought little comfort.
“I’ll stay where I am,” she said over her shoulder. “You needn’t be afraid that I won’t. I’ll lock the door behind you.”
Bentick hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I’d feel happier if you let me lock it on the outside,” he murmured, “but I know it’s too much to ask. You’ve a will of your own in spite of the Telecopter, Carol, so I won’t insult it.”
She turned and looked at him squarely.
“Thank you for that,” she whispered. “I’m not so sure that you’re right, but I think you are.”
Bentick opened the door and waited for a moment. She came across the room and put a hand on his arm.
“Thank you again,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you before you go, won’t I?”
He gave her a sudden grin. “I shouldn’t be at all surprised!” he answered. “I’ll be around, don’t worry.”
Outside in the corridor he paused as she closed the door behind him. His ears picked up the click of the lock, and he felt relieved. She was going to be all right; of course she was. He knew that from what the Telecopter had shown, but the unknown intermediate events still troubled his mind.
He went down the stairs to the hall. The uniformed police officer was still standing with his back to the door of the library. They grinned and nodded to each other.
Bentick lit a cigarette and hung around uncertain what to do with himself. The urge to find out what Professor Dale was doing grew with every, moment he stayed in the hall. He went along to the kitchen and looked inside it.
There was no one there. The steel door to the laboratory was shut. He walked slowly towards it and turned the handle. Something stronger than himself made him do it.
The door was locked and refused to move when he thrust against its cold surface. Putting his ear close to the steel he could just make out the hum of the generators down below. So Dale was probably using the Telecopter, he thought. He wondered what shadows and figures were crossing and re-crossing that devilish screen. There was no way of finding out.
With marked reluctance Bentick turned away and rummaged in one of the kitchen cupboards for something to drink. He found a bottle and glass and helped himself to Scotch. Every now and again his eyes strayed to the laboratory door. It was as if there was a powerful magnet in place behind its blankness, a magnet that drew him remorselessly. Bentick had never considered himself a sensitive person, but now he suffered doubts about it as he’d never done in the past. He was certainly sensitive to the emanations of the Telecopter. There wasn’t much doubt about that. He shivered when he remembered how strong the influence had been when he witnessed the murder scene on the previous evening.
The machine was destructive, bringing to life all the dread emotions that went with events. And then he recalled that those emotions were not always fearful. He remembered the scene in which he would comfort the girl. It brought steadiness to the doubts inside him. Perhaps the Telecopter was not entirely bad; perhaps there were things in which it could work some good. He wished it could solve all the problems that confronted the troubled world, but he doubted if anything created by man himself could do that.
Finishing his drink and staring at the empty glass with a sour grimace, Bentick suddenly shook the depression from his shoulders and walked from the kitchen with a new determination in his mind.
He glanced at the policeman in the hallway. The man shook his head and jerked a thumb in the direction
of the library door at his back.
“Still at it!” he whispered-quietly. “I’m glad I’m not mixed up in this! Looks as if it’ll so on for a long time yet.”
Bentick nodded. He thought so too. Barringville was not a man to give any points away till he was sure he was getting full value in return.
“I’ll be pleased when the other man goes,” he said. “He’s my particular pigeon, and a pretty unpleasant bird at that!”
The police officer grinned and nodded.
“So I should think!” he replied with a shrug. “Still, it takes all kinds, don’t it? This is a rum affair taken all round. Can’t say I fancy it much, do you? Queer kind of house as well. Something odd about the atmosphere, if you know what I mean.”
He looked at Bentick sideways as he spoke.
Bentick reflected that apparently he was not the only one to fall victim to the Telecopter’s emanations. Others beside himself were sensitive to the waves and echoes it sent our invisibly.
“Maybe you’re right,” he grunted. “The trouble is that we’re all getting jittery, which is quite absurd.”
“You should know!” said the man. “I’ve only been here long enough to get a feeling about it. That’s bad enough.”
Bentick made no reply. He was worried and couldn’t hide the fact, but he did not wish to give any information away to a stranger.
He frowned, shrugged, and turned on his heel, making for one of the other vacant rooms on the ground floor. From the look of its furniture it was nominally a dining room, he guessed, but since he and Nargan had been in the house they had only sat down at the table once, and that on arrival. Now it provided a haven for Bentick where he could be alone with his thoughts and the mental disturbance they caused. He tried to analyse them but failed in reaching any definite conclusion. All that was plain was the fact that before long the Telecopter would wreak some havoc of a fateful nature. What exactly would happen was hidden as yet, but Bentick felt positive that Dale and Nargan and himself, with possibly Carol as well, would be involved.