" 'There!' cried Ridges again, coming back from the door. "Again!" He glared at us savagely. "Who did that? Who's playing a joke on us, anyway? That door - Jenkins must have come in. Must be something of a ventriloquist, though I never suspected it. Or are you fellows putting up a game on me?' He paused a moment, then suddenly cried: 'Look back of that screen, Hathaway. You, Burns, over behind those heavy portières. He must -' Ridges broke off again and stared again directly at Jenkins. The latter's face was quite pale now, and held such a half-bewildered, half-frightened expression, that my heart almost played me false. His mouth opened and closed convulsively, and he appeared to be trying to swallow. But whether it was from actual fright, or overwhelming anger at us for attempting a practical joke, I could not then guess. If I had known then, certainly I would not have allowed things to go on.
"Ridges bent and glanced under the table. When he straightened up his own face was red and angry, and his eyes flashed.
" 'Jenkins!' he cried, with his eyes roving wildly about the room. 'Here, you, Lee, turn up all the lights. Damned if that madman's talk about invisibility hasn't put the creeps into my bones. Jenkins! Jenkins!"
"By now the little biologist had shrunk back a huddled heap in his great chair. His eyes shone white, and his hands were fastened talon-like upon the upholstery of the chair-arms. I saw now that the man's impressionability had gotten away with him - either that or terrible rage. At any rate, I knew now that we had gone too far.
" 'I say,' I huskily whispered to Ridges; 'I say, we've gone far enough.'
"Ridges purposely misunderstood my words.
" 'I should say he has. Lord - all the lights on, Lee! I said all. I want to see. Jenkins! Jenkins! By all that's holy, I'll -'
"He stopped short, for he had rested his hand over that of the shrunken scientist as it so whitely gripped the chair-arm. His face then positively awed me. The surprise, the fear, then the utter horror that shone in it as his hand closed upon that of Jenkins. His breath came short. All the others stared, too. Their acting was more than admirable, though it was to be expected in a group of men of the university type, perhaps. Even Hathaway - white-faced.
" 'God!' gasped Ridges, and his other hand leaped out to me. 'Feel - feel!' Then loudly, harshly: 'Jenkins!'
"The miserable man in the chair at last found his voice. "'Here - here I am. Here - don't you see me? Can't you see me?' Then as we all stared wildly unbelieving: 'Oh, for God's sake some one say you're just gaming me; oh, say it, say it!'
"I started forward to seize the man by his hand and assure him that I did indeed see him, but Ridges held my arm. Jenkins sank back with his hands over his eyes.
" 'Oh, my God!' he moaned. 'What has happened to me, what has happened to me?"
"Ridges felt blindly for the huddled form. Then as his hands again encountered Jenkins's body, he gave a startled exclamation, and fell back.
" 'Lem-Lemuel-is-is-it you?' he gasped. 'You - there?'
"The little biologist in the chair sobbed.
" 'They can't - can't see me. They can't - can't - they - they -'
"The others burst into excited chatter. But I could stand the fooling no longer. I seized one of Jenkins's hands and turned to Ridges.
" 'This must stop now!' I whispered hotly. 'It's gone far enough. You'll have the man mad in another moment. You'll -'
"Then I was aware that Ridges's eyes were not upon mine, but were fixed glassily upon Jenkins beside me. Glassily with real, and not simulated, horror and consternation and unbelief. And the room was suddenly quite still. I glanced at the others unconsciously and beheld them, too, with eyes intent, as in hypnosis, upon Jenkins. Then came another loud cry. It was Hathaway, though how I recognized his voice I do not know: for it was not his own, but a veritable wail of pain and pity.
" 'Ah - look! Look! He's going - go -'
"My own eyes shifted dully to soothe the man in the chair. That queer prickling sensation I had felt before crept over me again. I wheeled quickly about. Then, with my heart bounding within me, and my vocal cords suddenly paralysed, I realized that I could not, in truth, see the man in the chair. Distinctly, as I stared at the others, came Jenkins's voice at my back.
" 'My hand - you've twisted it!'
"Still I had the man's hand in mine. I looked down at it - and saw nothing. My clutch froze spasmodically about some solid object in its grip - yet that object, solid, warm, throbbing with life, I could not see. All Hathaway's words of warning, all memories of Jenkins's own impressionable nature, all his theory of man's mental power over his own body, came rushing in upon me. One word tore from him in a loud scream:
" 'Jenkins!'
" 'Oh!' came the voice from the empty chair beside me. 'They can't see me - they can't see me. They can't!' Then, in sudden shriek of horror: 'And I can't see myself. I can't - ah - h'
"Jenkins's voice trailed off in a sob.
"Gilson, pale as death now, sweat glistening on his face, stood with hands out-stretched and quivering. A single drop of blood stood out in vivid contrast upon his lower lip. Ridges was on his knees in an instant pawing madly at what seemed the space between the arms of Jenkins's chair. Hathaway had sunk down, and with head buried in his arms moaned over and over and over again:
" 'I knew it! I warned you! Oh, fool that I was to even let you try. Fool, fool, fool! Poor Jenkins. It was not right - not right. I told you - it was not good to try it. He was so in earnest he believed. We should not have done it - I - I - we - oh, my God, what have we done! What have we done!'
"His words were more in prayer than fear or reproach. Had a stranger at that moment entered the room he must have put us down at once as a group of men suddenly gone mad. By this time I, too, was desperately patting and shaking the thing that was so warmly alive beneath my hands, the thing that we could not see and yet which must be Lemuel Jenkins -Lemuel Jenkins, stricken with terror and woe and desperation, and as invisible to our sight as the very air itself."
Burns paused in his story and swung his stick at a twig projecting from the golden acacia beside the path. He turned gravely to me then, for I had given a slight exclamation of incredulity. Then he said quickly:
"You saw him there on the bench, P.M. You saw what he is now. His eyes - you saw."
"Yes," I repeated. "I saw his eyes."
"You saw the desperation in them, the terror, then the hope as he searched our faces. Then the utter torture in them as I stared unseeingly at the bushes behind him."
"Yes," I repeated again. "I saw that." Burns nodded.
"I - we could not at first believe ourselves. Thought Jenkins had seen through our joke and was turning the trick on us. Had hypnotized us into really believing we couldn't see him - he liked to dabble in hypnotism, you know; anything psychological, mental. But it wasn't so Jenkins wasn't playing any trick - he had suspected us of none. He had taken our own play in undoubting seriousness. The thing gripped his mind, conscious and subconscious. And we've never told him either. Never will - at least, I won't.
"I remember Ridges turning to me with a face like grey death.
" 'We've done it now,' he whispered, brokenly fierce. 'We've done it now. I didn't dream of of this.' He shot a glare at Gilson, who now, too, was frantically pawing at Jenkins's chair. 'Young fool,' he exclaimed bitterly. 'He'd better be conscience stricken - we all had.' A moment Ridges paused. Then, turning quickly: 'Jenkins!' he said quietly. 'Jenkins, can you see me?'
"A sobbing voice answered from the seemingly empty chair.
" 'Y-e-e-es; but I can't see my - myself. I've gone crazy, or something. Or that fool idea of mine has made me this way. I don't know - oh, I don't know. I didn't understand at first what you fellows were talking about - I thought you had gone mad yourselves. But now I can't see my - my -"
" 'Here's my hand,' said Ridges, sweeping his hand before the chair as though he himself were blind. 'Take hold of it. There - ah, good Heavens!'
"Ridges gasped as he tightened his fingers about what was eviden
tly Jenkins's hand. It was horribly uncanny to see Ridges' knuckles whiten about what appeared to be empty air.
" 'Now get up,' he went on.
"The cushions of the chair squeaked a bit, and the upholstery rose - that was the only sign that Jenkins had complied and left his seat. Ridges then locked his arm awkwardly about Jenkins's form apparently, and stepped towards the fire. I remember the awful look Hathaway turned upon me as we saw only Ridges moving and yet heard two muffled sets of footsteps on the rugs. I remember, too, staring fascinatedly to see if between me and the glow of the coals I could discern anything of the stricken man. But I could not - not even the slightest shadow or outline could I see.
" 'There,' said Ridges, pausing before the hearth. 'Do you feel its warmth?'
" 'Of course I do,' came a hollow cry from his side. 'But I can't see my -' The voice ended in a groan.
"Ridges's grip tightened convulsively on the unseen hand. Then all at once the arm he had hooked about Jenkins sagged as if a weight had suddenly been imposed upon it. And at the same time his face went a shade greyer and hardened anxiously.
" 'Quick! Quick!' he cried. 'The man's fainted or something. He's gone limp as a rag. Here
-here, help me with him. Get him upon the table. You, Hathaway -'
"Hathaway drew back a moment, then, with his eyes suddenly filled with tears, reached down and gathered into his own arms the limbs we could not see. Then lifted -and the strained cords about his neck stood out.
" 'A cushion,' cried Ridges.
"Gilson jerked out of his trance, and snatched one from a chair. Then while Ridges lifted, placed it gingerly near his hand. Gilson exploded wrathfully in quite excusable anger.
" 'Not there, you young fool! Here, here,' and with his arm still held supportingly, he jerked the cushion nearer him, gently lowered his arm. At once a roundish depression slowly sank into the softness of it - but the head that made that hollow we could not see. 'Now water - quick!' ordered Gilson.
" 'God!' cried Gilson. 'Is - is - he only fainted?'
" 'Here!' cried Ridges. He seized Gilson's hand roughly, and held it down hard about ten inches above the table just below the cushion. "There," he said in a cold, hard voice, 'feel him breathe - his heart -'
"Gilson's hand and arm moved slowly up and down to the respiration of the unseen man upon the table - and his own breath came rather harshly.
" 'The water!' cried Ridges - Ridges always takes the lead in giving help despite his mocking and oft-times cruel sarcasm. He nodded to Lee, who had run to get that best of nature's restoratives. 'You said nothing about this to anyone?' Ridges questioned.
"The man shook his head.
" 'Not a word,' he declared.
" 'Good!' commended Ridges.
"And Gilson, his responsibility for all this resting heavily upon him, half sobbed:
" 'Thank God!' Then he cried: 'But if - if - anything - hap - happens - I - I'm here. Right here, and-'
" 'Shut up!' snapped Ridges. 'Shut up and help me give him water. Here, hold up his head. No - not there, not that way. Here -'
"He took Gilson's hands and held them, palms towards each other, about a foot apart and just above the depression of Jenkins's head in the cushion. 'Hold them so,' he ordered, then withdrew his own and moved them until they stopped above the little hollow. 'Now bring them on either side of mine - quick, man, we're wasting time. Now slowly towards each other -it wouldn't do to shock him while he's this way - we can't tell -"
"Gilson's trembling hands came to an abrupt stop.
" 'I - they've struck something - feels like hair. Yes, yes, it's his head.' His hand felt vaguely lower, and cupped. 'Ready,' he said. 'I've got Jenkins's poor head.'
" 'Hang Jenkins's poor head!' exploded Ridges. 'Lift.'
"Gilson lifted, and Ridges felt for Jenkins's mouth with his fingers, then gently tipped the glass. That was perhaps the most uncanny sight of all that awful evening. You see, P.M., he was pouring water. We could see its level dip. We could see it leave the glass - and then, you know, it - disappeared. It seemed poured into the air - one would expect to see it splash to the table top. But instead, as if it had instantaneously evaporated - it disappeared. The thought that struck me then was queer enough. I bent down and examined the table top, and saw that I was right.
"Where Jenkins's body touched the hard, polished walnut was a slight depression. With suspicion developing I put out a hand as if to assist Gilson, and saw that where my fingers touched that unseen body the tips of them, too, became invisible. It was as though an eighth of an inch of them had been by that contact clipped off.
I bent and examined Gilson's hands and saw that they, too, were in the same condition. I nudged Hathaway, and called his attention to this extraordinary appearance. He stared silently, then burst out:
" 'That is what I feared - why I was afraid. Whatever it is that makes poor Jenkins this way is probably in the nature of vibration - and Jenkins's belief could bring that on - that is what I feared we would bring him to. And each minute particle of his body is vibrating so as to be quite invisible - just like the blades of an electric fan. And that vibration is communicated to his clothing. That's why we can't see it - I've been thinking about it ever since it - it happened. And it's the same with the surface of anything his body touches - so, of course, those become invisible, too. Oh, I was afraid of this very thing occurring - Jenkins takes impressions so strongly, and believes, believes, believes - so profoundly in some of his weird ideas that he's just -'
"A startled exclamation from Ridges interrupted.
" 'He's coming back?' he whispered then.
" 'Coming back - can you see him?' shouted Gilson, though his mouth was within a foot of Ridges' ear. 'Oh, thank -'
Rideges glared.
" 'Now, everybody,' he cautioned in a deadly, quiet voice, 'when I give the word, swear by all that's holy that you can see his hand. You acted before - and got him into this. For God's sake play up now, and get him out of it. It's the only way - to work it by his own belief. Jenkins's very life may depend upon it. He's got himself into this condition because of his belief in his idiotic theory, and his acceptance of our jesting as serious fact. The only way to get him back is to make him believe just as strongly that we can see him again. Then he'll begin - but there, he's moving - he is coming back to consciousness - sh! everybody! And remember.'
"Ridges paused and stared at the unseen hand he held. Then turned fiercely upon us, and cried loudly:
'Look, look - his hand! Jenkins's hand. The fingers - see? Now the hand, the whole hand. The wrist - they're coming visible again - thank God, they're coming back!" Ridges fairly shouted now. "Look, Jenkins, you look; see for yourself. Ah, thank God, thank God, old man, you're going to be with us again!'
"As yet I myself could see nothing - and knew that Ridges did not. But I added my voice to the rest - putting into it a gladness that I did not feel, things looked so hopeless. Then Ridges's hand jerked as though the unseen hand it gripped had moved.
Then weakly came a voice we recognized as Jenkins's.
" 'I can't see -' it sobbed pathetically, and Ridges' arms moved upward as though the body they were supporting had sat up.
" 'Madman - look!' stormed Ridges. 'Look at that hand!'
"Then Jenkins again: 'Oh, but I can't, I can't
" 'Thank God, thank God, you're coming back!' came in real sobs from Ridges, and I could feel the aching, throbbing sympathy in the cry. We gasped a similar declaration - yet stared all the time in trembling fear that the ruse might not prove as efficacious now as our boomerang practical joke had before.
" 'I can't!' cried Jenkins, half hysterical.
" 'Quick!' whispered Ridges fiercely to us. 'His pulse is horribly low. For the sake of the little man's very life, make it go!'
" 'Oh, I can't - I - I sobbed Jenkins once more.
"'But you must - you must!' shrieked Gilson, the joker. 'You must see it. You can't help it we see it, we do. You must. Only look
-'
"Jenkins's voice broke in again, a bit stronger, and with now a lurking bit of confidence and belief.
" 'You - you're sure? Sure?' I imagined him wildly looking about at us with his frightened eyes. Then, with a heart-piercing little scream: 'Why - my hand, there are the fingers - growing, growing - I can - I believe I can -'
"A great sigh came from Ridges. Ours were not far behind. Weakly we joined in with his congratulations.
"For there, as a photograph develops out of the clear paper, as frost grows upon the windowpane, as salt crystallizes out of a clear solution, there did Jenkins become visible to our sight again. First the fingertips as we made him believe. Then the hand that Ridges held. Then the good solid right arm creeping weirdly upward to the shoulder. Then, as Jenkins's full belief came back, his whole body rushed out of nothingness into the world of normal vision.
"I for one sank into a great, soothing chair, and allowed my own trembling body to quiver slowly back to peace again. I believe all must have done the same - I could hear Gilson sobbing hysterically next me with his head hidden in his arms, and his body jerking with the violence of his emotion. Ridges sat upon the table-edge with his friend half in his arms, cuddling and consoling and heartening him as does a mother her nightmare-ridden child. Hathaway, still in his chair, twiddling a new cigar about in his hands, watched Jenkins's every move, the tears trickling unheeded down his cheeks.
"A long while, hours it seemed to me, we sat thus. Once we had a horrid scare. Jenkins, in a fit of doubt, suddenly declared he was going back again, and held out a fingerless hand in proof. But by calling in a page with water we downed his doubts, for the boy, when told whom the drink was for, stepped straight up to the tremulous little biologist and held out the glass. And as Jenkins reached fearfully for it the hand flashed visible again - Jenkins had to believe then, for the lad had made no sign that he noticed anything unusual. After this we waited half an hour or so longer, and tried a desultory conversation about Sierra fishing that was decidedly not a success.
"Then we went home - Ridges going with the still quacking Jenkins, who pleaded that he stay the night over with him."
Terror in the Modern Vein Page 12