The Blind Spot

by Austin Hall and Homer Eon Flint

  XXII

  THE ROUSING OF A MIND

  It was a girl. Not the Nervina. No; this girl was quite another person.

  Even now I find it curiously hard to describe her. For me to say thatshe was the picture of innocence, of purity, and of youth, is still toleave unsaid the secret of her loveliness.

  For this stranger, coming out of the thin air into our midst, held mewith a glorious fascination. From the first I felt no misgivings, suchas Harry confesses he experienced when he fell under the Nervina'scharm. I knew as I watched the stranger's wondering, puzzled features,that I had never before seen anyone so lovely, so attractive, and soutterly beyond suspicion.

  It was only later that I noted her amazingly delicate complexion, fairas her hair was golden; her deep blue eyes, round face, and the girlishsupple figure; or her robe-like garments of very soft, white material.For she commenced almost instantly to talk.

  But we understood only with the greatest of difficulty. She spoke asmight one who, after living in perfect solitude for a score of years, issuddenly called upon to use language. And I remembered that Rhamda Avechad told Jerome that he had only BEGUN the use of language.

  "Who are you?" was her first remark, in the sweetest voice conceivable.But there was both fear and anxiety in her manner. "How--didI--get--here?"

  "You came out of the Blind Spot!" I spoke, jerking out the wordsnervously and, as I saw, too rapidly. I repeated them more slowly. Butshe did not comprehend.

  "The--Blind--Spot," she pondered. "What--is that?"

  Next instant, before I could think to warn her, the room trembled withthe terrific clang of the Blind Spot bell. Just one overwhelming peal;no more. At the same time there came a revival of the luminous spot inthe ceiling. But, with the last tones of the bell, the spot faded tonothing.

  The girl was pitifully frightened. I sprang to my feet and steadied herwith one hand--something that I had not dared to do as long as the Spotremained open. The touch of my fingers, as she swayed, had the effect ofbringing her to herself. She listened intelligently to what I said.

  "The Blind Spot"--speaking with the utmost care--"is the name we havegiven to a certain mystery. It is always marked by the sound you havejust heard; that bell always rings when the phenomenon is at an end."

  "And--the--phenomenon," uttering the word with difficulty, "what isthat?"

  "You," I returned. "Up till now three human beings have disappeared intowhat we call the Blind Spot. You are the first to be seen coming out ofit."

  "Hobart," interrupted Charlotte, coming to my side. "Let me."

  I stepped back, and Charlotte quietly passed an arm round the girl'swaist. Together they stepped over to Charlotte's chair.

  I noted the odd way in which the newcomer walked, unsteadily,uncertainly, like a child taking its first steps. I glanced at Jerome,wondering if this tallied with what he recalled of the Rhamda; and hegave a short nod.

  "Don't be frightened," said Charlotte softly, "we are your friends. Ina way we have been expecting you, and we shall see to it that no harmcomes to you.

  "Which would you prefer--to ask questions, or to answer them?"

  "I"--the girl hesitated--"I--hardly--know. Perhaps--you had--better--asksomething first."

  "Good. Do you remember where you came from? Can you recall the eventsjust prior to your arrival here?"

  The girl looked helplessly from the one to the other of us. She seemedto be searching for some clue. Finally she shook her head in a hopeless,despairing fashion.

  "I can't remember," speaking with a shade less difficulty. "The lastthing--I recall is--seeing--you three--staring--at me."

  This was a poser. To think, a person who, before our very eyes, hadmaterialised out of the Blind Spot, was unable to tell us anything aboutit!

  Still this lack of memory might be only a temporary condition,brought on by the special conditions under which she had emerged; anafter-effect, as it were, of the semi-electrical phenomena. And itturned out that I was right.

  "Then," suggested Charlotte, "suppose you ask us something."

  The girl's eyes stopped roving and rested definitely, steadily, upon myown. And she spoke; still a little hesitantly:

  "Who are you? What is your name?"

  "Name?" taken wholly by surprise. "Ah--it is Hobart Fenton.And"--automatically--"this is my sister Charlotte. The gentleman overthere is Mr. Jerome."

  "I am glad to know you, Hobart," with perfect simplicity and apparentpleasure; "and you, Charlotte," passing an arm round my sister's neck;"and you--Mister." Evidently she thought the title of "mister" to beJerome's first name.

  Then she went on to say, her eyes coming back to mine:

  "Why do you look at me that way, Hobart?"

  Just like that! I felt my cheeks go hot and cold by turns. For a momentI was helpless; then I made up my mind to be just as frank and candid asshe.

  "Because you're so good to look at!" I blurted out. "I never appreciatedmy eyesight as I do right now!"

  "I am glad," she returned, simply and absolutely without a traceof confusion or resentment. "I know that I rather like to look atyou--too."

  Another stunned silence. And this time I didn't notice any change in thetemperature of my face; I was too busily engaged in searching the depthsof those warm blue eyes.

  She didn't blush, or even drop her eyes. She smiled, however, a gentle,tremulous smile that showed some deep feeling behind her unwaveringgaze.

  I recovered myself with a start, drew my chair up in front of her andtook both her hands firmly in mine. Whereupon my resolution nearlydeserted me. How warm and soft, and altogether adorable they were. Idrew a long breath and began:

  "My dear--By the way, what is your name?"

  "I"--regretfully, after a moment's thought--"I don't know, Hobart."

  "Quite so," as though the fact was commonplace. "We will have to provideyou with a name. Any suggestions?"

  Charlotte hesitated only a second. "Let's call her Ariadne; it wasHarry's mother's name."

  "That's so; fine! Do you like the name--Ariadne?"

  "Yes," both pleased and relieved. At the same time she looked oddlypuzzled, and I could see her lips moving silently as she repeated thename to herself.

  Not for an instant did I let go of those wonderful fingers. "What Iwant you to know, Ariadne, is that you have come into a world that is,perhaps, more or less like the one that you have just left. For allI know it is one and the same world, only, in some fashion not yetunderstood, you may have transported yourself to this place. Perhapsnot.

  "Now, we call this a room, a part of the house. Outside is a street.That street is one of hundreds in a vast city, which consists ofa multitude of such houses together with other and vastly largerstructures. And these structures all rest upon a solid material which wecall the ground or earth.

  "The fact that you understand our language indicates that either youhave fallen heir to a body and a brain which are thoroughly in tune withours, or else--and please understand that we know very little of thismystery--or else your own body has somehow become translated into acondition which answers the same purpose.

  "At any rate, you ought to comprehend what I mean by the term 'earth.'Do you?"

  "Oh, yes," brightly. "I seem to understand everything you say, Hobart."

  "Then there is a corresponding picture in your mind to each thought Ihave given you?"

  "I think so," not so positively.

  "Well," hoping that I could make it clear, "this earth is formed in ahuge globe, part of which is covered by another material, which we termwater. And the portions which are not so covered, and are capable ofsupporting the structures which constitute the city, we call by stillanother name. Can you supply that name?"

  "Continents," without hesitation.

  "Fine!" This was a starter anyhow. "We'll soon have your memory working!

  "However, what I really began to say is this; each of thesecontinents--and they are several in number--is inhabited by people moreor less like ourselves
. There is a vast number, all told. Each is eithermale or female, like ourselves--you seem to take this for granted,however--and you will find them all exceedingly interesting.

  "Now, in all fairness," letting go her hands at last "you mustunderstand that there are, among the people whom you have yet to see,great numbers who are far more--well, attractive, than I am.

  "And you must know," even taking my gaze away, "that not all persons areas friendly as we. You will find some who are antagonistic to you, andlikely to take advantage of--well, your unsophisticated viewpoint. Inshort"--desperately--"you must learn right away not to accept peoplewithout question; you must form the habit of reserving judgment, ofwaiting until you have more facts, before reaching an opinion of others.

  "You must do this as a matter of self-protection, and in the interestsof your greatest welfare."

  And I stopped.

  She seemed to be thinking over what I said. In the end she observed:"This seems reasonable. I feel sure that wherever I came from suchadvice would have fitted.

  "However"--smiling at me in a manner to which I can give no descriptionother than affectionate--"I have no doubts about you, Hobart. I know youare absolutely all right."

  And before I could recover from the bliss into which her statement threwme, she turned to Charlotte with "You too, Charlotte; I know I can trustyou."

  But when she looked at Jerome she commented: "I can trust you, Mister,too; almost as much, but not quite. If you didn't suspect me I couldtrust you completely."

  Jerome went white. He spoke for the first time since the girl's coming.

  "How--how did you know that I suspected you?"

  "I can't explain; I don't know myself." Then wistfully: "I wish youwould stop suspecting me, Mister. I have nothing to conceal from you."

  "I know it!" Jerome burst out, excitedly, apologetically. "I know itnow! You're all right, I'm satisfied of that from now on!"

  She sighed in pure pleasure. And she offered one hand to Jerome. He tookit as though it were a humming-bird's egg, and turned almost purple. Atthe same time the honest, fervid manliness which backed the detective'sprofessional nature shone through for the first time in my knowledge ofhim. From that moment his devotion to the girl was as absolute as thatof the fondest father who ever lived.

  Well, no need to detail all that was said during the next hour. Bit bybit we added to the girl's knowledge of the world into which she hademerged, and bit by bit there unfolded in her mind a corresponding imageof the world from which she had come. And when, for an experiment, wetook her out on the front porch and showed her the stars, we were fairlyamazed at the thoughts they aroused.

  "Oh!" she cried, in sheer rapture. "I know what those are!" By now shewas speaking fairly well. "They are stars!" Then: "They don't look thesame. They're not outlined in the same way as I know. But they can't beanything else!"

  NOT OUTLINED THE SAME. I took this to be a very significant fact. Whatdid it mean?

  "Look"--showing her the constellation Leo, on the ecliptic, andtherefore visible to both the northern and southern hemispheres--"do yourecognise that?"

  "Yes," decisively. "That is, the arrangement; but not the appearance ofthe separate stars."

  And we found this to be true of the entire sky. Nothing was entirelyfamiliar to her; yet, she assured us, the stars could be nothing else.Her previous knowledge told her this without explaining why, and withouta hint as to the reason for the dissimilarity.

  "Is it possible," said I, speaking half to myself, "that she has comefrom another planet?"

  For we know that the sky, as seen from any of the eight planets in thissolar system, would present practically the same appearance; but ifviewed from a planet belonging to any other star-sun, the constellationswould be more or less altered in their arrangement, because of thevast distance involved. As for the difference in the appearance of theindividual stars, that might be accounted for by a dissimilarity in thechemical make-up of the atmosphere.

  "Ariadne, it may be you've come from another world!"

  "No," seemingly quite conscious that she was contradicting me. For thatmatter there wasn't anything offensive about her kind of frankness. "No,Hobart. I feel too much at home to have come from any other world thanthis one."

  Temporarily I was floored. How could she, so ignorant of other matters,feel so sure of this? There was no explaining it.

  We went back into the house. As it happened, my eye struck first thegramophone. And it seemed a good idea to test her knowledge with this.

  "Is this apparatus familiar to you?"

  "No. What is it for?"

  "Do you understand what is meant by the term 'music'?"

  "Yes," with instant pleasure. "This is music." She proceeded, withoutthe slightest self-consciousness, to sing in a sweet clear soprano, andtreated us to the chorus of "I Am Climbing Mountains!"

  "Good heavens!" gasped Charlotte. "What can it mean?"

  For a moment the explanation evaded me. Then I reasoned: "She musthave a sub-conscious memory of what was being played just before shematerialised."

  And to prove this I picked out an instrumental piece which we had notplayed all the evening. It was the finale of the overture to "Faust"; aselection, by the way, which was a great favourite of Harry's and is oneof mine. Ariadne listened in silence to the end.

  "I seem to have heard something like it before," she decided slowly."The melody, not the--the instrumentation. But it reminds me ofsomething that I like very much." Whereupon she began to sing for us.But this time her voice was stronger and more dramatic; and as for thecomposition--all I can say is it had a wild, fierce ring to it, like"Men of Harlech"; only the notes did not correspond to the chromaticscale. SHE SANG IN AN ENTIRELY NEW MUSICAL SYSTEM.

  "By George!" when she had done. "Now we HAVE got something! For thefirst time, we've heard some genuine, unadulterated Blind Spot stuff!"

  "You mean," from Charlotte, excitedly, "that she has finally recoveredher memory?"

  It was the girl herself who answered. She shot to her feet, and her facebecame transfigured with a wonderful joy. At the same time she blinkedhurriedly, as though to shut off a sight that staggered her.

  "Oh, I remember!"--she almost sobbed in her delight--"it is all plainto me, now! I know who I am!"