She was interrupted by Lieutenant Donovan’s gruff voice. “Now, Greeves,” he was saying, “if you’ve got anything to say I want to tell you first that it may be used against you.”
“I understand,” replied the butler. “In the first place, Lieutenant Donovan, it may help you to understand matters better from the first if I tell you that this young lady,” he indicated Nariva Saran, with a respectful inclination of the head, “is not the daughter of Saran. - She is the daughter of Michael Sanders, twenty-two years ago War Minister of Assuria, whom, doubtless, you well recall.”
Terrance Donovan’s face betrayed the astonishment the statement induced.
“As you know, the Alexander of Assuria was brought to America in infancy to preserve him from the wrath of the revolutionists, who assassinated the balance of the science family the day following his removal from the palace. Only Sanders and the Science Ruler’s valet, Paul Danard, beside yourself and your wife, held the secret of the whereabouts of the boy.
“Danard joined the revolutionists, but he kept his secret until recently, using his knowledge to extort money from Sanders, the head of the scientist’s party. For the past three years he has been the infamous power behind the infamous government that has reduced Assuria to bankruptcy and starvation.
“Recently the power of the scientist party has increased tremendously, until it now constitutes the hope of Assuria and the only menace to the criminal coterie that has for so long held the fate of the country in their bloodstained hands.
“The hope of the scientists lay in the young Alexander, though only a few knew that he still lived and only one scientist, Michael Sanders, knew where and under what name and disguise. But Danard knew, too, and we have been watching him closely.
“For that purpose Nariva and I gained access to the councils of Danard and his fellows. We learned that Danard had conceived a great ambition and to further it he brought together the malcontents from all parties and formed them into the so-called New Freedom Party.
A coup-d’etat was planned for next month, when the present government was to be overthrown and a new one proclaimed with Danard provisional president. The next step was to be a dictatorship, following which Danard was to seize all the reins of government, announce an empire and crown himself Science Ruler of Assuria.
“There was every possibility for the success of his bold play. The greatest obstacle lay in the existence of the rightful heir to the science throne — Alexander would constitute an ever-present menace to his power. Danard, therefore, determined to search out young Alexander and kill him; but Danard was clever. Really, he trusted no one, and made no confidants. Until tonight not even we who were closest to him realized his true intentions.
“His party consisted of many factions all of which must be appeased. He claimed, therefore, that he was coming to America to find Alexander and to prevail upon him to return to Assuria as the first president of the new science republic, thus winning the confidence of both the lukewarm scientists who had joined his forces and the out-and-out Freedom advocates as well.
“Nariva and I were sent by the true scientists to watch him, for Sanders, naturally, feared the man’s every motive. We had the greatest difficulty in locating Alexander, due to the fact that his present calling is such that he was forced to assume an identity different from that which we were told would reveal him to us. None of us knew him by sight — not even Danard, while the young man himself is ignorant of his true identity.
“We have searched for months. Tonight we found him. Danard got the first clue yesterday morning, but said nothing to us. Saran clinched it a few minutes after Mr. Thorn was murdered, as did I, though I think Danard may have told Saran earlier in the night — that, I do not know.
“Lieutenant Donovan, I do not need to tell you who the heir to the science throne is, nor the gratitude that every true Assurian owes you for your faithful service to Science Empire. I should like to be the first to salute my future ruler, but there is one who better deserves that honor,” and once again he turned and bowed to Nariva. “As her father has given his fortune, so she has dedicated her life and risked it many times for the sake of the Scientists of Assuria.”
Nariva smiled and inclined her head toward Greeves, then she turned to Macklin Donovan, and, curtsying low before him, took his hand in hers and raised it to her lips. “Sir, I salute you!” she said.
DONOVAN grasped her arm and raised her to her feet. His face was flushed with embarrassment. He drew her close to him and threw an arm about her waist, as he turned toward Greeves.
“What is the meaning of all this idiocy?” he demanded.
“It is the truth, Your Majesty,” replied Greeves. “Lieutenant Donovan can assure you of all that.”
“I think you’ve all gone crazy,” snapped Macklin Donovan, “and anyway all this has nothing to do with the business that interests me now — who murdered Mason Thorn, and why? There is a great deal more to be explained, Greeves, too. I want the history of the past few hours — not the history of Assuria."
“Very well, Majesty.”
“Cut the 'Majesty’!”
“Yes, Maj — yes, sir!” assented Greeves with a smile. “Yesterday morning you were followed to and from Lieutenant Donovan’s home. That was evidently Danard’s first direct clue as to your identity. He thought you a spy employed by the scientists. When he found who you really were he told us that he had discovered that you were about to expose us to the United States Government. Of course, such a step would have effectively ruined all his plans. He said you must be killed.
“Nariva and I tried to warn you, though we had no idea who you really were. Saran forged the note that was slipped under your door, and that was to lure you to your death. Poor Mr. Thorn chanced to pass through the hall at the instant you were expected and the bullet that was intended for you killed him. It was fired by Danard from Nariva’s closet, which is also a radio-transmitter of matter.
“Nariva realizing that you were to be shot, hastily printed a note of warning, passed back through Saran’s closet to the other building and thence to your closet, in which there is a small look-out panel, which opens as a slide. When you went to your dressing room, she entered the outer room and placed the note on your table where you discovered it.
“After she left your room to return to her own she heard the shot and thought it was you who had been killed. She screamed.
“Saran, too, thought that you had been killed. Possibly he showed surprise when he discovered that it was Mr. Thorn whom Danard had murdered by mistake, for he certainly must have been surprised and shocked too, since Mr. Thorn was to have financed the stroke that they expected would result in giving Assuria a new government.”
“What did my father have to do with it?” demanded Percy Thorn.
“Your father was very much deceived. He thought that he was aiding mankind with his money, but he was only playing into the hands of unscrupulous tricksters. I do not know all that they told him, but you may be sure that little or none of it was truth.”
“Go on with the story of what happened here this night,” directed Terrance Donovan.
“Well, Nariva had difficulty getting back to her room without being observed by Danard, and she only did reach it just as you were about to have the door broken in. She was sure you had been killed, Mr. Donovan, and she told me that she almost betrayed herself when she discovered you alive.
“After you all went to the library she returned to the other building to watch Danard and the others. It was in the library that I at last realized your true identity for I knew that the reputed son of Lieutenant Donovan was in reality Alexander of Assuria. I immediately hastened to the other building and acquainted Nariva with the facts.
“She had just learned something else from one of Danard’s men. Immediately after Mr. Thorn had been killed Saran had gone to his room as had most of the others and from there he had entered Mr. Donovan’s room by the outer balcony and hidden Mr. Donovan’s needle pist
ol beneath the mattress. Nariva barely had time to reach the room and remove the weapon before the police searched it.
AT last we determined that we must tell you of your danger, but when Nariva attempted to do so in the hallway Saran discovered her and interfered. From then on he was suspicious, and we had difficulty in even getting the little notes of warning to you.
“Saran attempted to reach your room and stab you to death with a dagger belonging to Nariva. I tried to shoot him from an upper window, but succeeded only in knocking the dagger from his hand.
“Then, a few minutes later, Nariva discovered that Saran was planning to enter your closet and shoot you from the small panel. It was then that she shot Saran from his closet as he was about to enter it on his way to your closet.
“To shield herself she ran to Danard and told him that one of the police had killed Saran. As there were papers on his body that Danard did not want to fall into the hands of the police he sent men to bring Saran’s body to the other building. When they had done so it was discovered that Saran was only stunned by a scalp wound, and he soon recovered.
“At the same time that Saran was shot Danard was in your closet waiting for Saran. He heard the shot, feared interference, and fired at you through the panel in your closet door. He did not wait to note the effect of this shot, but transmitted to the other building.
“The last time we warned you Saran was on his way again to get you and Nariva had to throw the note from the closet of your room. At the same time I made my way to Saran’s room, determined at last that I must tell you face to face of your great danger. It was then that you caught me, sir.
“There is not much more to tell, that you do not already know. You nearly killed Nariva when you fired at the light shining from your closet. She had been hiding there, expecting either Saran or Danard, or both, to come again in search of you. She dimly discerned someone on the balcony and turned the light upon them—it was Saran, as you know. The light frightened him away.
“Then she turned the light on you to make sure that it was you and not Danard. When you fired at her you missed her head by scarce an inch and she transmitted herself, fearing you might fire again. She had already removed the key from the outside lock by the simple expedient of reaching through the small aperture in the door — the same one through which Danard fired and that she used to shine the flashlight on Saran and you.
“When you followed Saran it was I who dragged you into the closet and then hustled you to your own room in the Thorn penthouse.
“I guess that is all, Lieutenant,” Greeves concluded.
“I have tried to cover every point, and now won’t you explain to — ah — er, his majesty, who he really is?”
“Wait a moment,” said Terrance Donovan. “Not so fast. A week ago I could have told him, for I thought I knew. Now I’m damned if I know. We got a letter from Michael Sanders then. It told me something about his fears of a plot to assassinate Mackie, and for us to watch him very close as the time was almost ripe for him to return to Assuria.
“When I read the letter to my wife she fainted, and when she came out of the faint she suffered a stroke. She has only rallied partially a couple of times since, and then she told me something that I don’t know whether to believe or not, when the condition of her mind is taken into consideration. She kept cryin’: ‘1 can’t let him go — my little Mackie, my little Mackie!’ And then, just in broken bits, she told me that he is our son — that it was Alexander who died on the stratosphere liner cornin’ over, an’ I always thought that it was our own boy that died.”
Greeves appeared dumbfounded.
“Can we not go to your wife at once and explain the necessity of knowing the truth,” he insisted. “The fate of Assuria hangs in the balance — the happiness and prosperity of countless millions of people.” Lieutenant Donovan hesitated. “She is close to death’s door,” he said.
“But your promise to the Science Ruler!”
“Very well, we will go,” he said, “but whether we shall question my wife or not depends upon the decision of the doctor.”
It was already daylight when they entered the aerial taxis that had been summoned to take Terrance Donovan, Greeves, Nariva and Macklin to the bedside of Mrs. Donovan. The police lieutenant and Greeves occupied one of the cabs, Nariva and Macklin the other. As they drove off Mrs. Peabody Glassock turned to Percy Thorn with a sickly smile.
“And to think,” she said, “that you have been entertaining the future Science Ruler of Assuria without suspecting his true identity! But really, didn’t you notice, Percy, his distinguished and majestic mien? Quite noticeable and very impressive.”
In the second cab Macklin Donovan and Nariva sat in silence that was presently broken by the man.
“Before I knew who you were I told you that I loved you,” he said.
“Before I knew who you were I told you that I loved you,” she replied; “but now we must forget all that. You see how impossible it is.”
“If I am a Ruler nothing should be impossible. If I am only Mackie Donovan, the son of an Irish policeman, though, that will make the difference, for how could such aspire to the hand of a War Minister’s daughter?”
“I pray to God you are only Mackie Donovan, dear,” she whispered, “for then I can show you how easy it is to win her.”
He took her in his arms. “Prince of Science or Mackie,” he said. “I’m going to marry you.”
FOOTNOTES
1
Late in the twenty-first century, all of Europe became involved in a war from which emerged a scientific power that ruled the whole continent with an iron hand. It was not a dictatorial, or an unjust rule, since by scientific means, the lot of the people was materially bettered. Under the Science Rule, the country grew prosperous, and it seemed that happiness should certainly have been the lot of the people. But instead, there was constant murmuring against the rule of man by science, for it was a fact that machines did the real thinking behind the government. Robots took the place of pilots in stratosphere planes, industry became a mass of entangling robot factories, and severe economical upheavals resulted.
However, each time, balance was restored, at least to the financial structure of the nation. But morally, the people became undermined. They had too much leisure time. In short, science had come to a continent whose people were not intellectually ready for it. They seethed beneath its irksome perfection. They yearned for something, they knew not what. And finally, came revolt. Machine was turned against machine, and as is the case with machines, when the human nerve center is cut, chaos resulted.
Driven to retreat when power beams failed, the Foreign Corps finally succumbed to such ancient weapons as rifles and flame guns. A few short days of fierce fighting and the Science Rule was at an end, perhaps forever on the European continent.
Once more Europe returned to its ancient ways, but whether they would follow the lead of still American America, the ancient, but still young in spirit, democracy, is for future historians to record. In America, science serves, it does not rule.—Excerpt from “The Last Days of the Scientists.”
Return to our story
2
A needle pistol is a small, compact weapon, like an ancient automatic. It fires a tiny, needle-shaped pellet, using compressed air as its propelling force
Return to our story
3
Radio transmission of matter is by no means impossible. Theoretically, the principle is the same as that used in transmission of pictures by radio waves. Although this is a slow process, wherein the picture is broken up into a series of lines, packed close together, by a scanner which differentiates between light and dark portions in sending a varying radio signal, there is no reason why a radio beam of diffused nature embodying an instant electrical pickup of the electrons of an object, might not transform matter into energy, transmit it in an unalterable form through space with the speed of light, and once more transform energy into the original matter. Since the pattern remains
the same, the body would be received just as sent.—Ed.
Return to our story
.—Author.
Afterword
EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS Author of THE SCIENTISTS REVOLT
THE author of our novel in this issue was born in Chicago, on September 1, 187S. He was educated at Harvard School, Chicago, Philips Academy, Andover, Mass., and Michigan Military Academy, Orchard Lake, Michigan. He was married on January 31, in Chicago, and has three children, two of which have recently become science fiction writers, thus following in their illustrious father’s footsteps.
His career included a term as Assistant Commandant, Cavalry Institute, Michigan Military Academy. He served in the 7th U. S. Cavalry at Fort Grand, Arizona. He was treasurer of the American Battery Company in Chicago, and department manager of Sears Roebuck & Company of the same city. Had a try at gold mining in Oregon, storekeeper and cowboy in Idaho, policeman in Salt Lake City, and many other varied occupations. He carries the rank of major.
His first novel, “Tarzan of the Apes,” started him off on his writing career. He wrote this on the backs of envelopes and stray scraps of paper in spare moments, and when finished, submitted it to Argosy Magazine. It made an instant hit, when published, and sequels were demanded, with the result that “The Return of Tarzan,” “The Beasts of Tarzan” and “The Son of Tarzan” followed at yearly intervals.
Perhaps the most important development in his writing career, so far as science fiction is concerned, came when he wrote his now famous “A Princess of Mars” in 1917.
Science fiction fans well remember the balance of the series, notably the sensational “Gods of Mars” and “Warlord of Mars.” These science fiction novels appeared at intervals, spaced between new adventures of the most famous character ever created, Tarzan, the Apeman.
From Mars, Burroughs turned to his famous Earth’s Core series, and from then on, came a deluge of novels of science fiction and non-science fiction, laid in every possible locale and imaginative world.
The Scientists Revolt Page 6