The Golden Age of Weird Fiction Megapack, Volume 5

by David H. Keller

  “You think that to those who have shall be given and those who have little shall lose their all?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what do you think?”

  “Just this. The man who receives your serum will be endowed with wonderful health. He will have a great advantage over his fellows. To use that advantage to the greatest good, he should have a corresponding intelligence, be of a good family, have a background of culture. Your experiment with the criminals was all right as an experiment, but we cannot approve of it as routine practice. Do you intend to restore healthy bodies to the underworld, the insane, the mentally defective, and turn them loose on society to continue to be a burden, and an additional one because of their vigorous bodies?”

  “I hoped that there would be a change in their minds.”

  “That is impossible. Can a leopard change his spots?”

  “Perhaps not. At least, even with his spots he will be a happier leopard, if he is a healthy one.”

  “All right. But how about Europe? Asia? Those nations owe us millions, even billions, of dollars. Are you going to give them universal health? I feel that they are waiting for the time to come when they can crush us. If you make a public announcement of the formula, every country in Europe will start making the serum at once.”

  “It will be a fine thing for their sick.”

  “Oh! I admit that, but think of our country. Would it not be better to keep it a secret and sell them the drug? If you do not want to profit, let a corporation be formed with a large percentage of profits going to the Government. That would lower taxes and at the same time keep the secret as a national possession. Would you do that?”

  “No.”

  “Will you sell it to us?”

  “No.”

  “What is your price?”

  “I have none.”

  “What do you want? Wealth? Power? Fame? Office? Name it. We are in a position to give you anything you ask for, if you go in with us.”

  “I do not want anything.”

  “One more question: Why did you want to make a serum like this?”

  “I have a son.”

  “Have you given him the serum?”

  “No. Now Bishop, I feel that we understand each other. My time is valuable. Will you excuse me?”

  “Five hundred million?”

  “Go. If you do not, I will have to have you removed.”

  The Bishop left.

  Biddle sat down and in longhand wrote a confidential report of the entire conversation, and sent it to the President. He felt it was important. So did the President.

  The Bishop went back to the powerful five.

  “I know a man,” said the politician, “who can do this little thing for us. He takes pride in his special abilities. Of course, his price for Biddle would be high. The inventor has become a national personage. But this man would do it for a million.”

  “Put him to work,” said the Bishop. “I hope he has better luck than I had.”

  That night a sleek little man, nicely dressed and carefully manicured, called by invitation to see a powerful politician. He listened to the man’s story.

  “A million is a lot of cash,” he at last commented, “and this guy Biddle is worth it, and maybe more. It can be done, but I do not want to take all the grief. Who is back of this?”

  “Do you have to know?”

  “I should. I want to feel sure that they have power enough to take care of me. The matter need not be talked about. Just have a supper in a quiet place and invite me. I know most of the big guys; and then, after I have a chance to look them over, I will give you my answer and my price.”

  “I am not sure they would come.”

  “Then I am sure I won’t do it.”

  “I’ll see them.”

  “Better make it tonight, and get a quiet place, and a back room. How about meeting at Tony’s place down on the Avenue? He is a friend of mine, and knows how to keep his mouth shut. Ten tonight, and the six of you had better be there.”

  Seven men sat around a small table at Tony’s place that night. Six of them ate little, and talked less. The sleek little man ate and talked for the rest of them. At last he wiped his mouth.

  “You want me to take this man Biddle for a ride?”

  “Something like that,” whispered the politician.

  “How about two million?”

  “We will pay it in gold,” said the university president. “No bank notes and no checks, and no publicity.”

  “Okay with me. But with your education you ought to know that two million in gold is a lot of metal. You better arrange to give it to me in negotiable government bonds. Suppose one of you meet me here tomorrow night with them. I’ll be going now. I don’t want to be seen leaving here with you. I have a reputation to preserve.”

  He went out of the room. Ten minutes later the six men left Tony’s place. On the sidewalk they were greeted by a blast of machine gun bullets. They were dead before they knew what happened to them; dead before the auto with the closed curtains was a block away.

  CHAPTER 12

  Biddle Has A Caller

  Two days after this Biddle had a visitor. He was none other than the President of the United States. He came without notice, and so secretly that his arrival in Philadelphia did not reach the attention of the papers till he was ready to return to Washington. He asked for a private interview with the inventor.

  “I received your letter,” he said to the scientist. “In a way, I was not surprised. Those six men have been persistent in their efforts to block every effort of mine to have legislation passed that would in any way be of benefit to the people. They were intelligent, and felt that they had a sacred trust, and that was the preservation of special interests. They felt that in some way the general use of your serum would be injurious to the various corporations they represented. In refusing to take the serum themselves, they paid you a high compliment. They evidently wanted to go the limit in blocking any plan leading to its general use. Have you seen the papers?”

  “I have not seen a paper for four days. I hare been busy working out my plans for the manufacturing of the serum in bulk.”

  “Then you do not know what happened to the six?”

  “Oh! That? Yes, I heard about it.”

  “Did you have anything to do with it? I know that is a hard question for you to answer, but I must know. Their antagonism to my future plans must be known, and their being killed in front of a New York speakeasy has already raised all kinds of gossip. I feel that the administration can weather the storm, but I would like to know the facts. Would you mind giving them to me?”

  “You do not think I killed them!”

  “No. You do not impress me as a gangster, and this was that kind of a murder. But you had every reason to fear them, and I feel sure they intended some harm to you; probably not murder but certainly kidnapping, or blackmail. As soon as I received your letter I made arrangements for your protection, but evidently it was not necessary.”

  “No. It was all taken care of.”

  “Do you know how it was done? Who did it?”

  “Yes, but just within the last two hours. In fact, I just said good-bye to the source of my information about thirty minutes before you arrived. My visitor was none other than Silent Sincox. Perhaps you have heard of him. He is a rather powerful force in the various rackets of New. York. He came to see me.

  “Life, Mr. President, is a rather peculiar thing; millions of people acting, and interacting, and reacting on each other; millions who are swayed this way and that way by the tides of life, with no clear perception of where they are going or why they are doing what they are doing.

  “Something of all this happened in regard to our six leaders. When they found they could not bribe me they decided to kill me. I suppose they had the right idea, and I am not sure that we can blame them. They were a little careful in the way they went at it; at least, they secured the services of a man who was never known to double-cross
a customer and who never failed to earn the price of taking a man for a ride. He was so clever that the police so far have absolutely failed to pin a single murder on him. Of all the killers in America, they could not have selected one who was more to be trusted in a matter like that.

  “But Silent Sincox did not come from Italy. He came from Shamokin, Pennsylvania, and his right name was Peter Casey. He had a sister he loved dearly, and her name was Mary. He tried to make her behave, but made a failure of it. She came to New York, changed her name to Valencia Moore, and was one of my first cases. The serum made a rather remarkable change in her morals. The case was one of those detailed in The Purple Flash, but the name was changed. Of course, the brother knew of the change. He knew that in some way I was the one who was responsible for it. Rather a coincidence, was it not?

  “You would think that was enough. But it was not the only odd feature of this story. Silent Sincox had a friend, a boy he had known since childhood. The friend committed murder, was caught red-handed, and sentenced to life imprisonment in Farview Prison. Sincox used to go and visit him. He was dying from tuberculosis. Death was just around the corner. He was one of the convicts who received the first injection. Sincox knew about that. He was not sure of my name, but he made it his business to do something for me. He told me that his first thought was to buy me a diamond ring. That was coincidence number two.

  “Now of all the killers in America these six men had to go to this man and ask him to kill a person by the name of Biddle. He knew there was more than one Biddle, so he did a little stalling and learned that the specific Biddle he was being hired to kill was the man who had reformed his sister and cured his friend. So he arranged matters, met the six men, walked out of the speakeasy ahead of them, gave the signal to his helpers, and that was all there was to it. There was no way at all to show that he was in anyway connected with the murder. He paid all the expenses, and the men who did it are now on their way to Italy in a private seaplane.

  “But he felt that I ought to know about it. If some men wanted to kill me, there might be others. He wanted me to be on my guard. So he called on me and told me the story. He will never kill another man.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I gave him a dose of serum just before he left.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The President’s Message

  The Senate Chamber was filled with Senators and Representatives. The visitor’s galleries were jammed with the aristocracy of America, and ambassadors and consuls from foreign lands. The press boxes were filled to overflowing. The President was going to personally open the special session of Congress and read his message.

  The Chamber rocked with applause as he walked in followed by his Cabinet and governors from over three-quarters of the States. When the applause died away to silence he began to read:

  “To the Senators and Representatives of the Congress of the United States: I have asked you to meet in Special Session to consider a matter of vital importance to the interests and welfare of every citizen of this country. At a time when the economic foundations of our country are being shaken, when the deficit is growing, and in spite of all our efforts to balance the budget, the nation is rapidly falling into bankruptcy and no system of taxation appears possible, new hope is given us by a scientific discovery that may be of such value that it will revive our entire economy and make us again a prosperous and happy people.

  “I refer, as you probably know, to the discovery of a serum by a scientist named Biddle. This serum has been given to five persons in New York City, to over fourteen hundred convicts in Farview Prison, Ohio, and lastly to over one hundred of the leading officials of this country including your President and Vice President.

  “In every case, the giving of the serum has been attended with changes so decisive, so far reaching in the healing of disease and the recovery of the patient, that the medical experts feel that a new force has been isolated which will revolutionize the life of the human race.

  “For several decades, the commonwealths of our country have been increasingly burdened with the care of the abnormal. The care of the insane, the mentally deficient, the epileptic, the criminal, the psychopathic personalities, has become one of the main costs of our national life.

  “In addition, there has been an increasing demand that the state or nation care for the tubercular, the cancer cases, and other forms of incurable disease. Add to all this the hospitalization of our ex-service men, and the entire country is loaded to the saturation point simply with discharging its responsibility to its sick and disabled citizens.

  “Crime also adds to the cost of government. Remove crime and you lessen the work of our Judiciary to a minus point, and also empty our prisons.

  “The general use of the Biddle Serum promises all this and more to our nation. He has offered to give it as a gift to the country, if we can assure him that it will be wisely and properly used. He feels that its use should be available to everyone in this country, irrespective of their race, wealth, or social position.

  “I have, therefore, prepared a law to be known as the Serum Bill. I am asking you to pass this law with such amendments as you see fit. If you can assure Mr. Biddle that the main features of the law, as we have framed it, will be preserved, he has promised to address you at once and give to the representatives of the medical profession who have met with us at my invitation the formula of his serum, full directions as to its use, and his opinion as to just what benefits the country will derive from his gift.”

  His message delivered, the President turned and sat down. Instead of applause, there was a buzz of conversation. The Vice President rapped for order, and said:

  “I am going to call on Senator Goresome of Montana.”

  Down the crowded center aisle walked a little dog leading a man. The sight was a familiar one. For years, the blind Senator had been lead by his faithful dog. Reaching the rostrum, the dog sat down and looked up at his master and friend. The man turned, bent over, and patted the animal on the head. The dog wagged his tail.

  “My friends,” began the Montana Senator. “We have all received printed copies of the legislation called the Serum Bill which the President asks us to consider, and if we see fit, make a law. We have read the bill, and approve of it. I have been in conference with the leaders of both Republican and Democratic parties, and they assure me that action will be taken as rapidly as is consistent with the rules of our respective bodies. Mr. Biddle need have no doubt as to our intentions in this matter. Both the House and Senate pledge themselves to support this legislation.

  “Now I wish to say something that is purely personal. I was born blind. For the last twelve years my little dog has lead me through the dangers of this world, and has lead me safely. We have become inseparable friends. I think that, if he discovered that he was no longer a necessity in my life, he would die of grief. Some weeks ago, I received an injection of the Biddle Serum. I recovered my sight, and now have perfect vision. It may have been a coincidence, but I feel that the serum gave me something I was sure I could never have. But in gaining my sight I saw that I might cause my little friend much suffering. He is growing old, and will soon die. For the little while he lives, I am going to pretend I am still blind, just to make a little dog happy.

  “Mr. Biddle, a man who was once blind but who can now see wishes to thank you for his sight. The world he now sees appears to be a very beautiful one. When I realize that the same gift I received can become the heritage of every blind person in the United States, I am filled with awe and wonder. Sir, you are but a human being, but in your invention of this serum, you have been inspired by a Power that is divine.

  “In the future, you will receive due praise for your work. Your name will go down in the history of the nation as one of its greatest benefactors. But I cannot wait for the future. I wish to take this opportunity of voicing the thought of a nation that has not yet awakened to the gift you have given them. In the name of every man, woman, and child, every one who is
sick or afflicted, I thank you. If, at any future time, a grateful nation can do anything for you, Mr. Biddle, all you have to do is to come to this Chamber and ask it for help. Again, a blind man who can see thanks you for the blessing of that sight.”

  He turned to walk back to his seat, the little dog leading him. There may have been an uneasy murmur when the President finished his message, but now there was wild applause. The legislators, the audience, the Press, rose and gave the greatest personal tribute to an individual, that the Senate Chamber had ever seen, Goresome and his little dog and his simple speech had touched the human heart more than any flight of oratory could ever have done. The audience was cheering Biddle, the inventor of the Serum, but they were also adding their tribute to the great leader who could, in his moment of happiness, think of the happiness of his little dog.

  Biddle stood up and bowed in response to the insistent clamor of the cheering throng. He went over to Goresome and took his hand. Just a handshake, and not a word from either of them.

  CHAPTER 13

  Biddle Explains

  An hour later, the scientist met twelve physicians in the President’s office at the White House. The President was there, a stenographer, and one representative of the Press.

  The physicians had been carefully selected by the American Medical Association. Each was a specialist, and one was, in addition to being a physician, a noted chemist. After introductions, Biddle began his explanation of the Serum. He talked at length concerning the one-celled animal; showed how man was simply a collection of such cells. He called their attention to the fact that under favorable circumstances the isolated cell could live indefinitely, whereas, in large masses, as in the body of a man, they rapidly died, could not reproduce, starved from lack of proper nourishment, and ultimately produced such a poisoning of the system that the entire mass died.

  He explained that his thought, years ago, had been to improve the circulation in such a way that the individual cell would live longer. Later, he found that within the cell was a mass of energy capable of activating life indefinitely, provided it could be liberated. He was not sure what this energy was. It might be some form of radiant vibration; it might be energy obtained from the splitting of the hydrogen atom. He had worked for some years on the problem of the release of this energy, and had finally solved it. Even with the solution, he was very much in the dark. He simply knew that the injection of a certain serum, or solution of chemicals, gave an extra function to the individual cell, and enabled it to release this energy just as well when it was in combination with millions of other cells of the human body as it could when it was isolated and detached from all other cells.