“Surely you can risk it?” one of the scientists asked, quite disappointed.
“Risk it? Great heavens, no! You do not realize the power of this instrument, my dear sir. Not power, as such, but the power to cause a shift in the probability of matter itself! Unless I am absolutely sure of my target I dare not set the machine at work. You see, the field of disturbance set up, unless absolutely exact, might cause the electron-probabilities of any number of people or objects to suddenly yield to the probability that they are somewhere else. The whole thing is utterly unpredictable. In a single instant any part of the universe might change places with another part — such is the Law of Probability.”
“Supposing,” another scientist asked, “such a thing did really happen. Would the transposition be absolute? Permanent?”
“No, not necessarily,” Engleman replied, after some thought. “Everything in the Universe has its proper place, and remains there unless interfered with by an outside source. My disturber-field is such an outside source. As long as it operated it would transpose a part of the Universe, but the moment the disturbance was cut off the normal process would instantly return, just as an elastic snaps back to its original length when tension ceases.”
“During which time immense damage might be done!” another scientist protested.
“Damage?” Engleman raised his eyebrows. “Why no, my friend. The disturber-field operates in what I call hyper-Time, which is a complex way of saying it operates between the normal instants of Time. Since it is apart from the normal order of the Universe it cannot operate within the normal Time-span. Yes,” Engleman sighed, “very unpredictable, and I am sorry not to be able to give you a demonstration. Indeed, perhaps I should work out the details much more carefully before I make any experiments. I’m glad I had the presence of mind to switch off my machine a second after I switched on. Had I continued, anything might have happened. As it is, all is well. At a later date I will call you all together again to witness something of real interest …”
Which brought the meeting to a close and left Engleman perfectly satisfied that, so far, he had not transgressed any laws of Nature. Five people at that moment walking thoughtfully from the Great Park could have told him a very different story.
Alice, Where Art Thou?
This is the strange story of Alice Denham, whom I should have married ten years ago but did not. At the time, as some of the older amongst you will remember, there was quite a stir when Alice disappeared. I was even very close to being accused of her murder, along with Dr Earl Page. The only reason we escaped was because no trace could be found of Alice’s body — and according to law, no body — no accusation. Instead the case of Alice became relegated to one of those ‘peculiar’ stories, such as footprints mysteriously ceasing to advance through unbroken snow.
I did not give the real facts concerning Alice ten years ago because I knew I would never be believed, nor Dr Page either. The thing was — and still is — so incredible. And yet it happened.
Suppose we go back to the beginning? My name is Rodney Fletcher. Ten years ago I had just started business on my own as a stockbroker and had every prospect of a successful business career. Today I am comparatively well-to-do, but still unmarried. There can never be anybody to take the place of Alice, so far as I am concerned.
It was just after I had set up in business that I first met Alice. She was a slim, elfin-type of girl with a wealth of blonde hair, smoke-gray eyes, and a tremendous amount of enthusiasm. She first came sailing into my orbit when I advertised for a secretary-receptionist. I had little hesitation over engaging her and in the space of a year she had become the supervisor of my ever-increasing clerical staff.
Inevitably I was drawn to her, and she to me. We exchanged confidences, we dined together. Our friendship deepened into romance; then one warm spring evening at twilight, as we were strolling through the city to keep a theater date together, we decided to become engaged.
At the time of this decision, which did not come as a surprise to either of us, we were just passing the brilliantly lighted window of a famous city jeweler’s. I think it was the sight of a certain ring that prompted the abrupt decision to become engaged.
That certain ring! If only to God we’d never seen it! If only we had taken another street … but of what avail now to try to turn back the clock? There the ring was — compelling, seeming even to beckon us to look at it. We even forgot for the moment that we had decided to become engaged. Fixedly we looked at that ring. We wondered about it. We exchanged glances of awe.
The ring had been cunningly placed in the center of the resplendent window so that it automatically attracted the eye. Around it were grouped trays of diamond rings, together with pendants of sapphires, rubies, opals, and all the stock in trade of a high-class jeweler. The shop was still open and within, when at last we managed to drag our eyes from the ring, we could see a glimpse of an elderly man silently writing something in a ledger.
“Did you ever see anything like it, Rod?”
Alice’s gentle, fascinated voice brought my attention back to the ring. The circlet holding the stone was normal enough and made of platinum, but the stone itself was as large as a small pea and radiated colors in a fashion neither of us had ever seen before. From the countless facets there flooded a blazing emerald green one moment, or ruby-red the next. We had only to move position by a fraction of an inch and the color changed again. Once even it seemed to me that there were faint glimpses of colors not within the normal spectrum, colors which one sensed rather than saw. Yet how am I to describe a color that has no normal parallel? By and large, the stone looked as though it were a composite of all precious gems rolled into one. Quite definitely, neither of us had ever seen anything like it.
And we had just become engaged. Was there anything illogical in the fact that we finally turned into the shop and asked to see the masterpiece at close quarters?
“Ah, yes — the Sunstone,” the jeweler said, smiling, and put aside his ledger. “Quite a remarkable gem …”
He opened the barred cage-work at the back of the window and with exquisite care lifted the ring, complete on its plush display case. Still very gently he set it down on the glass-topped counter before us. And all Alice and I could do was stare at it, just as though it possessed some incredible hypnotic quality.
It had no such powers of course; it was simply that the unearthly, blazing luster held the eye with a magnetism all their own.
“A wonderful, wonderful stone,” came the jeweler’s voice, and at that I forced myself to look at him. He was an intellectual-looking man of late middle-age, with thick white hair curling at his temples.
“Where did it come from?” I asked. “I don’t think I ever saw anything like it!”
“To the best of my knowledge, sir, and I have checked very carefully, it is the only specimen of its kind in the world. It was found originally in South America, became a sacred gem to a race now long forgotten, and eventually fell into the hands of an explorer. After that it traveled considerably, leaving quite a history everywhere it went.”
“A history?” Alice questioned. “What sort of history, apart from its natural beauty?’
“A history which I find very hard to credit, madam,” the jeweler smiled. “Or perhaps that is because I am too mature to be gullible. It does appear, though, that every owner of this ring up to now has vanished.”
“Oh?” Alice looked surprised. “Vanished? To where?”
“That is what is so strange. Nobody seems to know. The ring has remained, but the various owners have disappeared — nor have they ever been traced … Of course,” the jeweler continued, perhaps realizing he was jeopardizing his chance of a sale, “it may all be a lot of nonsense — and probably is. Just superstitious gossip, such as often does attach to a gem of unusual qualities. However, through various trade processes it finally came into my possession, and I am glad to say that in the two months I have possessed it I have not disappeared!”
S
omehow it was a relief to laugh. And the ring still blazed up at us from its deep amethyst plush case … After a moment Alice withdrew her glove and reached a pale, slender hand tentatively forward.
“May I?” she questioned, and the jeweler quietly pushed the case towards her.
“By all means, madam. I have never yet seen how it looks on the finger of a woman.”
With my help Alice slid the ring experimentally on the third finger of her right hand. Then she held her hand forward and turned it back and forth so the ring caught the lights. And the effect was breathtaking. It looked exactly as though sheer emerald and ruby fire were burning her finger away.
“Exquisite! Exquisite!” This seemed to be the only word she could whisper.
“But on the wrong finger,” I smiled.
“So — an engagement?” the jeweler asked. “I do congratulate you. I am sure no other woman will ever possess so exquisite an engagement ring, madam.”
Alice looked a little embarrassed, gently eased the ring from her finger, and put it back in the case. The jeweler waited, apparently sensing by some business instinct that he had made a sale even though the ring was back where it had started.
“It must be frightfully expensive,” Alice said, and at that I imagine I looked indignant. Certainly I felt it.
“Who cares about that? I don’t want the woman I love to wear any sort of trash … What is the figure?” I turned to the jeweler.
“As rings go it is not expensive, sir. Besides, its odd history, be it true or false, forbids a high figure … The price is ten thousand pounds.”
I suppose that should have been a shock, but it was not. I mentally decided that should the need arise — which I considered highly unlikely — I would be more than able to get my money back by selling the ring. One always has to pay to be unique, so I made out my check there and then and handed it over. My business card was sufficient guarantee to the jeweler that I was a man of standing — and so we departed. Alice and I, she with the ring now on the third finger of her left hand and her smile one of ecstatic satisfaction.
“I shall never forget this evening as long as I live,” she murmured, as we went on our way to the theater. “Engaged, and the possessor of the most wonderful ring in the world — all in one fell swoop.”
“Nothing but the best for the best,” I told her.
So we kept our theater date, but throughout the performance our attention kept wandering to that blaze of glory on Alice’s slim hand. For that matter we were not the only ones looking at it. In our position in the orchestra stall we were close enough for the foremost members of the play to see us with some distinctness. I could not help but notice the fascinated stare of the young heroine as her eye caught that shimmering grandeur below. So fascinated was she that she nearly forgot her lines!
Yes, as Alice had said, that evening was a wonderful, memorable one. As for the strange story that went with the ring, we neither of us gave it another thought. We were both supremely happy, and before I departed from Alice towards midnight we had arranged to be married within a month. There seemed to be no point in a long engagement since we both knew exactly what we intended doing … From this day forward she would cease to be a member of my stock broking firm and make her arrangements for the great day.
On the following morning I was at the office as usual, too many business matters on my mind to give much thought to the aptly named ‘Sunstone’. I was reminded of it, however, when towards evening Alice rang me up.
“Hello, darling!” I exclaimed, delighted to hear her voice again. “Everything fine?”
“No, Rod, not quite. That’s why I’m ringing you. I’m — I’m a bit worried.”
“What about? Nothing that can’t be straightened out, surely?”
“Well, I —” The hesitation in her gentle voice puzzled me more than somewhat. “I wonder if you could spare the time to come over? There’s something happened that’s — that’s not quite as it should be.”
“Spare the time!” I echoed. “Nothing could keep me away. I’ll come immediately.”
Which I did. And I was inwardly shocked to find Alice’s small, elfin-like face looking very pale and pinched. She seemed to have lost a great deal of her normal pink-and-white color. As I stood looking at her I was seized with the curious conviction that she appeared far more frail and small than ever before. Never a big woman at any time, she seemed definitely to have lost proportions overnight! Ridiculous, of course! Probably the light, or something.
“What is it?” I asked her quietly.
She sank down on the divan and did not speak for a moment — then with a little touch of the dramatic she held out her left hand and shook it. Immediately the amazing ring on her third finger fell to the floor and lay blazing on the carpet. I stood there and just stared for a moment or two.
“How did you do that?” I demanded abruptly. “You just shook it off. That isn’t possible, Alice. Last night, in the jeweler’s, it only just fitted you.”
“I know, Rod. It seems to have expanded, or something.”
Alice gave me a queer look. Stooping, I picked the ring from the carpet and tested it on the end of my little finger. I had done the same thing the previous evening before giving it to her. The ring had not expanded in the least! A curious thought began to snake through my brain.
Catching at her slim hand I stared at it. I could have sworn it was far more slender and whiter than ever before.
“Alice!” I looked at her intently. “Alice, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “How should I know? I seem to have lost weight and size overnight! I’ve been wearing this ring ever since you put it on my finger and — well, you’ve seen for yourself how slackly it fits.” She gave a shrug and looked at me with hollow eyes.
“Oh, what’s the use of trying to disguise it, Rod? My clothes don’t fit as well as they did yesterday. I’ve lost size in many ways. Even this belt about my dress is a notch further in than usual!”
Still I gazed at her, totally unable to figure the business out. I said, “It’s impossible!” without realizing that I had said it.
To this Alice made no comment; then coming to a sudden decision I took Alice’s arm and had her stand over by the wall.
“Flatten yourself against it,” I ordered. “I’m going to check up. What height is recorded on your Civil Registration Card?”
She nodded to the bureau. “Top shelf — left pigeon hole.” In a moment or two I had the card out. Here, for once, the new law to register the dimensions, size, fingerprints, and so forth of every citizen was going to prove useful. It gave Alice’s height at five feet two inches, and her weight as seven and a half stones.
“Kick off your shoes,” I told her, returning to her side.
She obeyed and stood waiting. Then, with a book on top of her head and a tape measure in my hand I went to work. I made the measurement three times because I just could not believe what the measure said. She was now only five feet tall.
“Well?” she asked, as I stood thinking — and I made a quick evasion.
“Everything seems all right. What about your weight? Got a scale in the bathroom?
She nodded and we went in to check up. Here, I had no chance to be evasive for she could see the face of the scale as well as I could. She was exactly one stone lighter in weight.
Her smoke-gray eyes were scared as she looked at me. “Rod, what does it mean? Why have I altered like this? Is my height any different? For heaven’s sake be frank with me!”
I put an arm about her shoulders. “Matter of fact you’re two inches shorter.”
“But why on earth should I be? What’s caused it?”
“I — don’t — know.” I was having a hard struggle to conceal my inward alarm. “Something to do with the ring, perhaps. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” I added quickly. “After all, people do lose weight sometimes very quickly, particularly after severe emotional strain. Maybe our getting engaged was more of a tax on
your nerves than you thought.”
“That would not make me lose two inches of height, would it?”
By this time we had returned to the lounge and Alice had put her shoes on again before I had thought of an answer.
“At night, Alice, a human frame is less in height than it is in the morning because the gristle in the backbone compresses under the pull of gravity.”
“Rod, you’re a very bad liar.” Alice looked at me gravely. “You’re not fooling me one little bit, you know, even though I appreciate your trying to spare my feelings. The fact remains that I am less in size in every way and I’ve got to know why!”
I picked up the ring from where I had placed it on the occasional table. I turned it over slowly. To both of us it was no longer a thing of beauty but something to be feared and hated. Finally I wrapped it in my handkerchief and thrust it in my pocket.
“Frankly,” I confessed, “this whole business is much too deep for me!”
“And for me! I keep thinking of the story the jeweler told us — about all the previous owners having disappeared. He didn’t say in what manner they had disappeared, and it’s sort of left me wondering … if …”
“Forget that poppycock!” I said brusquely. “Just a lot of rubbish. Won’t do you any good to brood over such stuff. Tell you what we can do. I know a Professor Earl Page, and he’s a pretty good physicist. Member of the same club as I am. Just a chance this business may be scientific and that he can explain it away. Grab your hat and coat and we’ll go and see. My car’s outside.”
As we drove through the busy streets I reflected on the usefulness of knowing Earl Page, PhD. Though not an outstanding figure in the scientific world, he certainly knew his job when it came to scientific analysis. Indeed, his choice lay so obviously in the exploration of little known things that his fame was thereby obscured. Not that he cared. A man with half a million for his private income can be obscure in comfort …
Page looked decidedly surprised when the manservant showed Alice and me into the well-appointed library. He was by the window, under the reading lamp, the light etching out his sharp features and neatly trimmed black torpedo-beard and moustache. One could easily have mistaken him for a Frenchman.
John Russell Fearn Omnibus Page 39