The Nyctalope vs Lucifer 3: The Triumph of the Nyctalope

by Jean de La Hire

  He paused again, then concluded: “The rest, Wilfried, was mere child’s play. The combination of magneto-human radioactivity, Hertzobranlian radioactivity and Crookes-Roentgen radioactivity with mechanical means of transmission and reception;13 the amalgamation of the whole with a captor-condenser-projector–which is there, to the left of the Teledynamo, and which captures, condenses and projects perispiritual fluid–and I had a machine which amplifies the effluvia of my brain infinitely. It manifests with incalculable power all the faculties of spell-casting, hypnotism, thought-reading, suggestion, disincarnation–in sum, those of the Sorcerer Supreme–that I had acquired in my Hermetic studies, from the books of Nicholas Flamel to the wall-decorations of the Wahallarah...”

  He fell silent–but almost immediately raised a hand, and said: “But...” Then he fell silent again.

  Wilfried had just closed his eyes; after a moment, he opened them again, turned to the Supreme Lord, and queried: “But...?”

  “But my Teledynamo isn’t perfect,” Glô said. “As yet, it can only act at one point at a time, only one! It cannot perform several actions simultaneously. I have seven skulls, Wilfried, but I only have one centralizer-diffuser–there, that crystal-lined platinum box. Do you understand?

  “While I’m acting upon the individuals delimited by the hull of the Lampas–which I have isolated–I cannot act, for example, upon the Nyctalope, of whom I know nothing since May 21. And I can’t act preferentially upon the Nyctalope, because I don’t have at hand the appropriate elements to open his mind to me, so to speak. It would be necessary for me to measure, by means of the cephalometer you see there, the fluidic capacity of his will. That capacity, like those of Prillant and Lourmel, is so powerful that it goes off the scale of that cephalometer.”

  “So?” said Wilfried, almost violently.

  “So my artisans are laboring in the workshops of the Kaiser-Gott. I’m sure that I’ll have six more centralizer-diffusers in six crystal-lined platinum boxes by midnight on June 9. I’ll have a 1,000-degree cephalometer–that one’s only a 100-degrees. I’ll also have six more radioactive crystal bowls, so that we can reproduce and see in their electrified water scenes that I produce simultaneously in seven different places–even if those places are on the other side of the world from me, or from one another, in the remotest depths of the Pacific or at the very center of the Earth! Understand that, Wilfried!

  “Even if destiny–for there are still unknowns that destiny has hidden from me–determines that the seven items of apparatus are not all ready by midnight on June 9, I shall nevertheless be certain of defeating the Nyctalope...”

  He stopped short, lifted his clenched fists and howled with fury and hatred. “The Nyctalope! My sole enemy! The one who corresponds with the enigmatic predictions of the Kabbalah, which I was only able to decipher last night...”

  “Oh!” said Wilfried, excitedly. “You’ve finally managed to decipher the Kaballah’s verbal labyrinth?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what does it say?”

  “It says: Lucifer will only be defeated by a man whose eyes dissipate the darkness. Lucifer will be defeated if the man is not dead at the hour of the day equal to the day of the month, subtracted from the age of the Moon on that day... It was a lengthy calculation; I’ll spare you the details. The result was: the 10th hour of the 10th day of the month, the 16th lunar day, the sixth month of the year. To recapitulate: day, ten; day of the month, ten; the difference between that day and the age of the Moon on that day, six–which, subtracting ten from 16 gives six... Which is, therefore, the sixth month, June–for on June 10, the Moon is in the 16th day of its cycle, which proves the accuracy of my calculation.”

  “So you must kill the Nyctalope by 10 a.m. on June 10, at the latest,” said Wilfried. “If not, you’re lost, according to the infallible and irrevocable Kabbalah.”

  “Yes, Wilfried! But I repeat that, even if jealous destiny should prevent my Teledynamo from being ready by the fateful hour, I’m certain to defeat the Nyctalope.”

  “How?”

  “Simply by leaving the Teledynamo to act on the environment of the Lampas.”

  “I understand, but...”

  “Yes, Wilfried?”

  “The Nyctalope, wherever he is and whatever he is doing, will fly to the aid of the Lampas as soon as he finds out that Irène and Henri are in danger. And you will know that he has done so via someone you can reach who is presently in contact with the Nyctalope–La Païli, for example.”

  “Yes–or Rupert VI, since I don’t know what has become of Hunter, my brother. That puzzles me, too, and it’s another reason why I’m impatient for the Teledynamo and the cephalometer to be ready. The field of Hunter’s perispirit suddenly vanished on May 24. He was in Paris then, at Professor Lourmel’s house. But let’s put that aside. You’re right–the Nyctalope, once warned, will rush to help Irène and Henri. By then, Irène and Henri will be in the submarine station. An ambush will be set and Leo Saint-Clair will be killed, in some vulgar manner–a dagger-thrust or a bullet from a gun. Killed–even though I promised La Païli that, if she did not yield, she’d be forced to witness her lover’s... Yes, yes, she’ll see her lover–but as a corpse!”

  He fell silent, quivering.

  Wilfried said nothing. He stared at the Teledynamo. Little by little, Glô calmed down.

  Minutes went by. Eventually, Wilfried said, softly: “Glô, I admire you even more, if that’s possible, than I did yesterday–but I’d also like you to hold me in slightly higher esteem with each passing day. You’ve explained what I didn’t understand in regard to your wondrous Teledynamo. Would you do me the honor of accepting something from me which, by sparing you a little work and occasionally saving you a few minutes’ time, will be some little use to you and will make you think of me with pleasure?”

  “What is it?” Glô asked, astonished.

  “When you came in just now, cousin, you did not notice that there was an additional object in the cupola. Look over there!”

  “Oh!” cried Glô, visibly pleased. “The beautiful globe! Did you build it, design it and paint it yourself?”

  “I did–but wait! What you see is nothing, for you’re seeing it motionless, inert and solid. Now, my dear Glô...”

  “What?”

  “That globe is alive!”

  “Alive?”

  “Come, Glô.”

  Preceded, this time, by his cousin and loyal subject, Glô von Warteck went down the steps that led to the Teledynamo. Between the pedestal and a divan, on the opposite side to the one where the table with the magic bowl was set, was a magnificent terrestrial globe mounted in a nickel bracket, whose circumference measured two meters. The mountains were depicted in relief; subtly different shades distinguished the various nations and their colonies, or areas of influence.

  “Sit down on the divan, Glô,” said Wilfried.

  The Supreme Lord obeyed. He was facing the globe, but he raised his head slightly, so that his eyes, looking straight ahead, were fixed upon the equator. If, when confronted by a map of the world, one’s eyes are drawn to a particular point, it is always the equator, the center of the field of view.

  Wilfried sat down next to Glô, who was now most intrigued, but did not even think of reading his cousin’s mind telepathically, as he could easily have done.

  “We have Asia before us,” Wilfried said, “and a part of Australia. I imagine that you would prefer to see, without having to lift a finger, the region in which the Lampas is presently sailing?”

  “Yes, certainly,” said Glô, smiling.

  “Well, be patient for a few minutes. Before I satisfy your desire, let me first tell you an interesting little story.”

  “I’m listening, my dear fellow!”

  “Do you remember Professor Weilich of Berlin?”

  “Perfectly–small, jaundiced, peevish.”

  “Yes. When you left Berlin, I stayed there for another year before joining you in Calcutta. I became
very close to Professor Weilich and often went to see him. At his home, I made the acquaintance of Herman Blaff...”

  “The botanist who died young?”

  “Yes–and this is how he died. His tragic death is connected to the story of this globe.

  “After returning from a trip to Paris, during which I had had no news of Professor Weilich or Hermann, I went to visit the young botanist, who had become my close friend.

  “A thunderclap sounded as I was going into his workroom. ‘You’ve brought me a storm!’ Hermann exclaimed, as he offered me his hand. We both paused for a minute to gaze at the dark sky heaped with enormous clouds–the window was wide open, because of the dull heat of the summer afternoon. The thunder rumbled again as we sat down, Hermann on his rotating chair, me in a low quilted armchair that was next to his workbench.

  “It was only then that I noticed an object on the familiar bench that I had never seen before: a terrestrial globe. It was of moderate size, about 50 centimeters tall, counting its oak frame. With a flick of my hand I turned the multicolored ball, whose axis was inclined at 45 degrees. ‘That’s a pretty globe you have there,’ I said. ‘Did you buy it?’

  “ ‘No,’ Hermann replied. ‘I received it today, in my capacity as executor of the will of our old friend Weilich...’

  “ ‘Oh, he’s dead!’ I said, surprised

  “ ‘Yes and he left me... Hold on! Since you’re here, you might be able to solve the puzzle...’

  “ ‘What puzzle?’

  “ ‘Take this and read it–this piece of paper was attached by a bit of thread to the North Pole of the globe.’ And Blaff passed me a piece of yellowed paper that had been on the table in front of him. I took it and read these words, written in Gothic script: Weilich’s living globe. Interrogate it; it will answer.

  “ ‘Well?’ he said.

  “ ‘I don’t understand,’ I replied. Puzzled, I studied the globe. It was new, similar to all terrestrial globes with inclined axes, about 50 centimeters tall, frame included, and about a meter in circumference. The marine currents were marked in a deeper blue than the pale blue of the sea; the trade winds were indicated by hundreds of little red arrows; black lines marked the meridians and lines of latitude; the various countries were distinguished, as usual, by different colors. ‘There’s nothing extraordinary about it,’ I murmured.

  “A dull roll of thunder echoed in the sky. ‘You’d better close the window,’ I said, immediately, with that disquiet which storms elicit from people of nervous temperament.

  “ ‘You don’t understand, then?’ Hermann said, paying no attention to my request.

  “ ‘No–do you think this means something? Strictly speaking, any mobile globe is a living thing, which turns, speaks to our eyes and mind... Interrogate it; it will answer, right?’

  “ ‘What do you mean, right?’

  “ ‘It’s obvious!’ I cried, a trifle annoyed by Hermann’s persistence and his mute refusal to close the window. ‘It’s not difficult. If I need to know where some city, river or mountain is located, I interrogate the globe, and it answers.’

  “ ‘I thought the same thing,’ Hermann replied, mockingly, ‘but I knew Weilich well, and he never opened his mouth to say nothing–and yet these Gothic characters that he left me along with the globe aren’t saying anything, if the explanation you’ve given is correct!’

  “A lightning-flash zigzagged across the breadth of the window, immediately followed by a violent clap of thunder, and rain began to fall. ‘It’ll be a lovely storm!’ Herman said, getting to his feet.

  “I thought that he was going to close the window and rejoiced in anticipation–but he contented himself with darting a glance outside before fixing his eyes on me. Gazing distractedly at the globe, without ceasing to think about the danger of thunderbolts. I said: ‘Yesterday’s newspapers reported that an extraordinary storm laid waste to an entire village in America. Hopefully, this one isn’t starting to go the same way...’ I leapt to my feet, my tongue stuck to my palate, my throat suddenly constricted.

  “ ‘What’s the matter?’ Hermann said.

  “ ‘I...I...’ I made a violent effort, and said, abruptly: ‘Didn’t you see... the globe turn?’

  “ ‘Come on, Wilfried!’ Hermann said.

  “ ‘It turned, I tell you–it turned! When I pronounced the word America, it suddenly turned–and now, America is directly in front of me!’ We looked at one another and I saw him grow pale.

  “ ‘How pale you are!’ he murmured. ‘Are you quite certain that you haven’t had a hallucination? The storm...would you like me to close the window?’

  “I suddenly felt ashamed and calmed down. Come on! I said to myself. We’re behaving like children! The globe turned, I’m sure of it–but what’s frightening about that? Let’s consider the matter, don’t you think? I was no longer thinking about the storm or the open window. I didn’t see the lightning flashes zigzagging from minute to minute; I didn’t hear the almost uninterrupted rolling of the thunder. ‘Look at it, Hermann. You see that America is directly in front of me. Stay where you are, facing it. The globe is directly between us–we are at the antipodes. Now you pronounce the word America–we’ll soon see.’

  “Hermann stared at the globe, hesitantly. Then, in a blank voice, he suddenly said: ‘America!’ And the globe turned! Yes, it turned, from right to left. There was a rapid, smooth movement, curtly halted. The Chinese empire and Hindustan were in front of me.

  “ ‘Prussia!’ I cried, mechanically. The globe turned through three-quarters of a circle, and I had Prussia before my eyes.

  “ ‘We have to find out how it works!’ Hermann howled, with great excitement. ‘We have to find out!’ Seizing the globe by its base he lifted it up and ran to the window. There, leaning into the brighter outdoor light, he examined the entire surface of the globe, searching feverishly for some opening, some operative mechanism, anything...

  “I went towards him, but I was blinded by a lightning-flash. A brutal commotion caused me to stagger–and amid the noise of a frightful clap of thunder, I saw my friend fall, collapsing on the floor.

  “I hurled myself forward–but all I could make out was a blackened, rigid, carbonized face–a near-supernatural thing. The lightning bolt that had killed Hermann had burned the rigid colored envelope of the globe, consuming it within a second. The frame alone was intact–and it supported a bizarre assembly of minuscule mechanisms, innumerable and incomprehensible...

  “As words and exclamations emerged instinctively from my mouth, my eyes remarked that some of these mechanisms were reminiscent of certain parts of a phonograph, and were marvelously sensitive to the sounds of my voice...”

  Wilfried paused for a few seconds, before concluding, with a smile: “I’ve reconstructed that terrestrial globe on a large scale. Not only does it turn on its ordinary axis, but it is mobile on another axis, perpendicular to the first, which goes through the equator–in sum, it moves in any direction, dipping and coming erect again, in such a manner as to present directly to the eyes of the observer the exact part of the world that he desires to examine. Glô, I offer this globe to you, and beg you to accept it. In order to put it to the test immediately, I have only to press this button to render the globe sensible to the human voice and to the syllables of the geographical terms inscribed on its surface.”

  So saying, Wilfried got up, marched towards the globe, leaned over it and pressed an ivory button that stood out visibly from the metal base. Then he returned to sit beside the Supreme Lord.

  Gravely, he pronounced the word “Labrador!”

  The globe immediately dipped, turned, shifted, and suddenly became immobile. The coast of Labrador, in the north-west of Canada, was directly facing Lucifer.

  IX. “It Won’t Be Easy!”

  Coincidences occur. When fortunate, they bring about an eighteenth of Brumaire; when unfortunate, they produce a Waterloo.14

  On June 4, at the very moment when Glô and Wilfried were under the cup
ola of Fort Warteck looking at the spectacle offered to them by the magic bowl, a few minutes before they climbed the stairway to the Teledynamo, Saint-Clair, Lourmel and Sir Patrick Swires were with Rupert VI in a specially-prepared cabin on the Uberalles at Cape Flora, in a large cage of glass similar to the one in which Hunter had died in the house at Auteuil.

  Saint-Clair, Lourmel and Sir Patrick wanted to interrogate Rupert VI while he was hypnotized, in the radioactive atmosphere that put the subject beyond Lucifer’s potential control, and which gave the same subject the faculty of seeing at a distance with unlimited range. Before putting his plan for the supreme offensive against Lucifer and Fort Warteck into action, the Nyctalope wanted to know what was happening in his enemy’s lair.

  That morning, Rupert VI was perfectly docile, and he had lost none of the visual acuity with which he depicted, described and reproduced what he saw and heard.

  Sir Patrick was attending such a session for the first time in his life. Not for an instant did he doubt the reality of the visions that Rupert VI registered in his hypnotic state, for the Englishman had heard so many extraordinary things in the preceding 24 hours that he could no longer doubt or be astonished by what was taking place. However, while he listened to the formidable, fantastic and unimaginable speech that emerged from Rupert VI’s mouth, reproducing the words simultaneously pronounced at the North Pole by Lucifer as he explained the Teledynamo to his half-brother, Sir Patrick used up the last vestiges of the amazement held in reserve in the depths of his brain. Like a true Briton, though, he let nothing show, remaining impassive.

  As for Saint-Clair and Lourmel, they were possessed by conflicting emotions: dread and sorrowful pity for Irène, Henri, Mattol, Raymond and his crew; hope that they might be saved; gravely troubled perplexity as to the means that they might employ–for the plight of the Lampas upset part of the Nyctalope’s action plan–admiration for Lucifer’s genius, mingled with horror provoked by the use he had made of it and terrible apprehension regarding the use he was preparing to make; the joy of learning that the Teledynamo was imperfect, in such a precise fashion–a precision that would assist the Nyctalope in the orientation of his offensive–the desire to know everything that was being done, said and prepared at Fort Warteck; and, at the same time impatience regarding the prolongation of the session while precious minutes sped by...