V
THE GREAT BROWN-PERICORD MOTOR
It was a cold, foggy, dreary evening in May. Along the Strand blurredpatches of light marked the position of the lamps. The flaring shopwindows flickered vaguely with steamy brightness through the thick andheavy atmosphere.
The high lines of houses which led down to the Embankment were all darkand deserted, or illuminated only by the glimmering lamp of thecaretaker. At one point, however, there shone out from three windowsupon the second floor a rich flood of light, which broke the sombremonotony of the terrace. Passers-by glanced up curiously, and drew eachothers' attention to the ruddy glare, for it marked the chambers ofFrancis Pericord, the inventor and electrical engineer. Long into thewatches of the night the gleam of his lamps bore witness to the untiringenergy and restless industry which was rapidly carrying him to the firstrank in his profession.
Within the chamber sat two men. The one was Pericord himself--hawk-facedand angular, with the black hair and brisk bearing which spoke of hisCeltic origin. The other--thick, sturdy, and blue-eyed, was JeremyBrown, the well-known mechanician. They had been partners in many aninvention, in which the creative genius of the one had been aided by thepractical abilities of the other. It was a question among their friendsas to which was the better man.
It was no chance visit which had brought Brown into Pericord's workshopat so late an hour. Business was to be done--business which was todecide the failure or success of months of work, and which might affecttheir whole careers. Between them lay a long brown table, stained andcorroded by strong acids, and littered with giant carboys, Faure'saccumulators, voltaic piles, coils of wire, and great blocks ofnonconducting porcelain. In the midst of all this lumber there stood asingular whizzing, whirring machine, upon which the eyes of bothpartners were riveted.
A small square metal receptacle was connected by numerous wires to abroad steel girdle, furnished on either side with two powerfulprojecting joints. The girdle was motionless, but the joints with theshort arms attached to them flashed round every few seconds, with apause between each rhythmic turn. The power which moved them cameevidently from the metal box. A subtle odour of ozone was in the air.
"How about the flanges, Brown?" asked the inventor.
"They were too large to bring. They are seven foot by three. There ispower enough there to work them however. I will answer for that."
"Aluminium with an alloy of copper?"
"Yes."
"See how beautifully it works." Pericord stretched out a thin, nervoushand, and pressed a button upon the machine. The joints revolved moreslowly, and came presently to a dead stop. Again he touched a spring andthe arms shivered and woke up again into their crisp metallic life. "Theexperimenter need not exert his muscular powers," he remarked. "He hasonly to be passive, and use his intelligence."
"Thanks to my motor," said Brown.
"_Our_ motor," the other broke in sharply.
"Oh, of course," said his colleague impatiently. "The motor which youthought of, and which I reduced to practice--call it what you like."
"I call it the Brown-Pericord Motor," cried the inventor, with an angryflash of his dark eyes. "You worked out the details, but the abstractthought is mine, and mine alone."
"An abstract thought won't turn an engine," said Brown doggedly.
"That was why I took you into partnership," the other retorted, drummingnervously with his fingers upon the table. "I invent, you build. It is afair division of labour."
Brown pursed up his lips, as though by no means satisfied upon thepoint. Seeing, however, that further argument was useless, he turned hisattention to the machine, which was shivering and rocking with eachswing of its arms, as though a very little more would send it skimmingfrom the table.
"Is it not splendid?" cried Pericord.
"It is satisfactory," said the more phlegmatic Anglo-Saxon.
"There's immortality in it!"
"There's money in it!"
"Our names will go down with Montgolfier's."
"With Rothschild's, I hope."
"No, no, Brown; you take too material a view," cried the inventor,raising his gleaming eyes from the machine to his companion. "Ourfortunes are a mere detail. Money is a thing which every heavy-wittedplutocrat in the country shares with us. My hopes rise to somethinghigher than that. Our true reward will come in the gratitude andgoodwill of the human race."
Brown shrugged his shoulders. "You may have my share of that," he said."I am a practical man. We must test our invention."
"Where can we do it?"
"That is what I wanted to speak about. It must be absolutely secret. Ifwe had private grounds of our own it would be an easy matter, but thereis no privacy in London."
"We must take it into the country."
"I have a suggestion to offer," said Brown. "My brother has a place inSussex on the high land near Beachy Head. There is, I remember, a largeand lofty barn near the house. Will is in Scotland, but the key isalways at my disposal. Why not take the machine down to-morrow and testit in the barn?"
"Nothing could be better."
"There is a train to Eastbourne at one."
"I shall be at the station."
"Bring the gear with you, and I will bring the flanges," said themechanician, rising. "To-morrow will prove whether we have beenfollowing a shadow, or whether fortune is at our feet. One o'clock atVictoria." He walked swiftly down the stair and was quickly reabsorbedinto the flood of comfortless clammy humanity which ebbed and flowedalong the Strand.
* * * * *
The morning was bright and spring-like. A pale blue sky arched overLondon, with a few gauzy white clouds drifting lazily across it. Ateleven o'clock Brown might have been seen entering the Patent Officewith a great roll of parchment, diagrams, and plans under his arm. Attwelve he emerged again smiling, and, opening his pocket-book, he packedaway very carefully a small slip of official blue paper. At five minutesto one his cab rolled into Victoria Station. Two giant canvas-coveredparcels, like enormous kites, were handed down by the cabman from thetop, and consigned to the care of a guard. On the platform Pericord waspacing up and down, with long, eager step and swinging arms, a tinge ofpink upon his sunken and sallow cheeks.
"All right?" he asked.
Brown pointed in answer to his baggage.
"I have the motor and the girdle already packed away in the guard's van.Be careful, guard, for it is delicate machinery of great value. So! Nowwe can start with an easy conscience."
At Eastbourne the precious motor was carried to a four-wheeler, and thegreat flanges hoisted on the top. A long drive took them to the housewhere the keys were kept, whence they set off across the barren Downs.The building which was their destination was a commonplace whitewashedstructure, with straggling stables and out-houses, standing in a grassyhollow which sloped down from the edge of the chalk cliffs. It was acheerless house even when in use, but now with its smokeless chimneysand shuttered windows it looked doubly dreary. The owner had planted agrove of young larches and firs around it, but the sweeping spray hadblighted them, and they hung their withered heads in melancholy groups.It was a gloomy and forbidding spot.
But the inventors were in no mood to be moved by such trifles. Thelonelier the place, the more fitted for their purpose. With the help ofthe cabman they carried their packages down the footpath, and laid themin the darkened dining-room. The sun was setting as the distant murmurof wheels told them that they were finally alone.
Pericord had thrown open the shutters and the mellow evening lightstreamed in through the discoloured windows. Brown drew a knife from hispocket and cut the pack-thread with which the canvas was secured. As thebrown covering fell away it disclosed two great yellow metal fans. Thesehe leaned carefully against the wall. The girdle, the connecting-bands,and the motor were then in turn unpacked. It was dark before all was setout in order. A lamp was lit, and by its light the two men continued totighten screws, clinch rivets, and make the last preparations f
or theirexperiment.
"That finishes it," said Brown at last, stepping back and surveying themachine.
Pericord said nothing, but his face glowed with pride and expectation.
"We must have something to eat," Brown remarked, laying out someprovisions which he had brought with him.
"Afterwards."
"No, now," said the stolid mechanician. "I am half starved." He pulledup to the table and made a hearty meal, while his Celtic companionstrode impatiently up and down, with twitching fingers and restlesseyes.
"Now then," said Brown, facing round, and brushing the crumbs from hislap, "who is to put it on?"
"I shall," cried his companion eagerly. "What we do to-night is likelyto be historic."
"But there is some danger," suggested Brown. "We cannot quite tell howit may act."
"That is nothing," said Pericord, with a wave of his hand.
"But there is no use our going out of our way to incur danger."
"What then? One of us must do it."
"Not at all. The motor would act equally well if attached to anyinanimate object."
"That is true," said Pericord thoughtfully.
"There are bricks by the barn. I have a sack here. Why should not abagful of them take our place?"
"It is a good idea. I see no objection."
"Come on then," and the two sallied out, bearing with them the varioussections of their machine. The moon was shining cold and clear though anoccasional ragged cloud drifted across her face. All was still andsilent upon the Downs. They stood and listened before they entered thebarn, but not a sound came to their ears, save the dull murmur of thesea and the distant barking of a dog. Pericord journeyed backwards andforwards with all that they might need, while Brown filled a long narrowsack with bricks.
When all was ready, the door of the barn was closed, and the lampbalanced upon an empty packing-case. The bag of bricks was laid upon twotrestles, and the broad steel girdle was buckled round it. Then thegreat flanges, the wires, and the metal box containing the motor were inturn attached to the girdle. Last of all a flat steel rudder, shapedlike a fish's tail, was secured to the bottom of the sack.
"We must make it travel in a small circle," said Pericord, glancinground at the bare high walls.
"Tie the rudder down at one side," suggested Brown. "Now it is ready.Press the connection and off she goes!"
Pericord leaned forward, his long sallow face quivering with excitement.His white nervous hands darted here and there among the wires. Brownstood impassive with critical eyes. There was a sharp burr from themachine. The huge yellow wings gave a convulsive flap. Then another.Then a third, slower and stronger, with a fuller sweep. Then a fourthwhich filled the barn with a blast of driven air. At the fifth the bagof bricks began to dance upon the trestles. At the sixth it sprang intothe air, and would have fallen to the ground, but the seventh came tosave it, and fluttered it forward through the air. Slowly rising, itflapped heavily round in a circle, like some great clumsy bird, fillingthe barn with its buzzing and whirring. In the uncertain yellow light ofthe single lamp it was strange to see the loom of the ungainly thing,flapping off into the shadows, and then circling back into the narrowzone of light.
The two men stood for a while in silence. Then Pericord threw his longarms up into the air.
"It acts!" he cried. "The Brown-Pericord Motor acts!" He danced aboutlike a madman in his delight. Brown's eyes twinkled, and he began towhistle.
"See how smoothly it goes, Brown!" cried the inventor. "And therudder--how well it acts! We must register it to-morrow."
His comrade's face darkened and set. "It _is_ registered," he said, witha forced laugh.
"Registered?" said Pericord. "Registered?" He repeated the word first ina whisper, and then in a kind of scream. "Who has dared to register myinvention?"
"I did it this morning. There is nothing to be excited about. It is allright."
"You registered the motor! Under whose name?"
"Under my own," said Brown sullenly. "I consider that I have the bestright to it."
"And my name does not appear?"
"No, but----"
"You villain!" screamed Pericord. "You thief and villain! You wouldsteal my work! You would filch my credit! I will have that patent backif I have to tear your throat out!" A sombre fire burned in his blackeyes, and his hands writhed themselves together with passion. Brown wasno coward, but he shrank back as the other advanced upon him.
"Keep your hands off!" he said, drawing a knife from his pocket. "I willdefend myself if you attack me.
"You threaten me?" cried Pericord, whose face was livid with anger. "Youare a bully as well as a cheat. Will you give up the patent?"
"No, I will not."
"Brown, I say, give it up!"
"I will not. I did the work."
Pericord sprang madly forward with blazing eyes and clutching fingers.His companion writhed out of his grasp, but was dashed against thepacking-case, over which he fell. The lamp was extinguished, and thewhole barn plunged into darkness. A single ray of moonlight shiningthrough a narrow chink flickered over the great waving fans as they cameand went.
"Will you give up the patent, Brown?"
There was no answer.
"Will you give it up?"
Again no answer. Not a sound save the humming and creaking overhead. Acold pang of fear and doubt struck through Pericord's heart. He feltaimlessly about in the dark and his fingers closed upon a hand. It wascold and unresponsive. With all his anger turned to icy horror he strucka match, set the lamp up, and lit it.
Brown lay huddled up on the other side of the packing-case. Pericordseized him in his arms, and with convulsive strength lifted him across.Then the mystery of his silence was explained. He had fallen with hisright arm doubled up under him, and his own weight had driven the knifedeeply into his body. He had died without a groan. The tragedy had beensudden, horrible, and complete.
Pericord sat silently on the edge of the case, staring blankly down, andshivering like one with the ague, while the great Brown-Pericord Motorboomed and hurtled above him. How long he sat there can never be known.It might have been minutes or it might have been hours. A thousand madschemes flashed through his dazed brain. It was true that he had beenonly the indirect cause. But who would believe that? He glanced down athis blood-spattered clothing. Everything was against him. It would bebetter to fly than to give himself up, relying upon his innocence. Noone in London knew where they were. If he could dispose of the body hemight have a few days clear before any suspicion would be aroused.
Suddenly a loud crash recalled him to himself. The flying sack hadgradually risen with each successive circle until it had struck againstthe rafters. The blow displaced the connecting-gear, and the machinefell heavily to the ground. Pericord undid the girdle. The motor wasuninjured. A sudden, strange thought flashed upon him as he looked atit. The machine had become hateful to him. He might dispose both of itand the body in a way that would baffle all human search.
He threw open the barn door, and carried his companion out into themoonlight. There was a hillock outside, and on the summit of this helaid him reverently down. Then he brought from the barn the motor, thegirdle and the flanges. With trembling fingers he fastened the broadsteel belt round the dead man's waist. Then he screwed the wings intothe sockets. Beneath he slung the motor-box, fastened the wires, andswitched on the connection. For a minute or two the huge yellow fansflapped and flickered. Then the body began to move in little jumps downthe side of the hillock, gathering a gradual momentum, until at last itheaved up into the air and soared heavily off in the moonlight. He hadnot used the rudder, but had turned the head for the south. Graduallythe weird thing rose higher, and sped faster, until it had passed overthe line of cliff, and was sweeping over the silent sea. Pericordwatched it with a white drawn face, until it looked like a black birdwith golden wings half shrouded in the mist which lay over the waters.
* * * * *
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bsp; In the New York State Lunatic Asylum there is a wild-eyed man whose nameand birth-place are alike unknown. His reason has been unseated by somesudden shock, the doctors say, though of what nature they are unable todetermine. "It is the most delicate machine which is most readily putout of gear," they remark, and point, in proof of their axiom, to thecomplicated electric engines, and remarkable aeronautic machines whichthe patient is fond of devising in his more lucid moments.
The Man from Archangel, and Other Tales of Adventure Page 5