The Blind Spot
Page 45
XLIV
DR. HOLCOMB'S STORY
If there was the least doubt in Chick's mind that this was really Harry,it was dispelled by the sight of the person who the next moment steppedup to his side. It was none other than the Nervina.
"Harry Wendel!" gasped Watson. It was too good to be true!
"Surest thing you know, Chick. It's me, alive and kicking!" as theygrabbed one another.
"How did you get here?"
"Search me! Ask the lady; I'm just a creature of circumstance. I merelyact; she does all the thinking."
The Nervina smiled and nodded. Her eyes were just as wonderful asChick remembered them, full of elusiveness, of the moonbeam's light, ofwitchery past understanding.
"Yes," she affirmed. "You see, Mr. Watson, it is the will of theProphet. Harry is of the Chosen. We have come for the great Dr.Holcomb--for the Jarados!"
And she led the way. Watson followed in silent wonder; behind him camethe Geos and the rest, quiet and reverent. The soft glow still held, sothat they seemed to be walking through the walls of cold fire. At theend of the passage they came to a door.
The Nervina touched three unmarked spots on the walls. The door opened.The queen stood aside, and motioned for Chick and Harry to enter.
It was a long room, pear-shaped, and fitted up like the most elaboratesort of laboratory. And at the far end, seated in the midst of a strangearray of crystals, retorts and unfamiliar apparatus, was a man whom thetwo instantly recognised.
It was the missing professor, looking just as they remembered him fromthe days when they sat in his class in Berkeley. There was the same trimfigure, the same healthy cheeks, pleasant eyes and close-croppedwhite beard. Always there had been something imperturbable about thedoctor--he had that poise and equanimity which is ever the balance ofsound judgment. Neither Chick nor Harry expected any rush of emotion,and they were not disappointed.
Holcomb rose to his feet, revealing on the table before him a queer,dancing light which he had been studying. He touched something; thelight vanished, and simultaneously there came an unnameable change inthe appearance of certain of those puzzling crystals. The doctor steppedforward, hand extended, smiling; surely he did not look or act like aprisoner.
"Well, well," spoke he; "at last! Chick Watson and Harry Wendel! You'revery welcome. Was it a long journey?"
His eyes twinkled in the old way. He didn't wait for their replies. Hewent on:
"Have we solved the Blind Spot? It seems that my pupils never desert me.Let me ask: have you solved the Blind Spot?"
"We've solved nothing, professor. What we have come for is, first,yourself; and second, for the secrets you have found. It is for us toask--what is the Blind Spot?"
The professor shook his head.
"You were always a poor guesser, Mr. Wendel. Perhaps Chick, now--"
"Put me down as unprepared," answered Chick. "I'm like Harry--I want toknow!"
"Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix," laughed Holcomb. "We,who know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still more! Itmay be, after all, that we know very little; even though we have solvedthe problem." His eyes twinkled again, aggravatingly.
"Tell us, then!" from Harry, on impulse as always. "What is the BlindSpot?"
But Holcomb shook his head. "Not just now, Harry; we have company."The Geos and the Jan had entered. "Besides, I am not quite ready. Thereremain several tangles to be unravelled."
As he shook hands with the Geos, he spoke in the Thomahlian tongue. "Youare more than welcome."
The Rhamda bent low in reverence and awe. His voice was hushed. Hespoke:
"Art thou the Jarados, my lord?"
"Aye," stated the doctor. "I am he; I am the Jarados!"
It was a stagger for both young men. Neither could reconcile the greatprofessor of his schooldays with this strange, philosophic prophet ofthe occult Thomahlians. What was the connection? What was the fate thatwas leading, urging, compelling it all?
"Professor, you will pardon our eagerness. Both Harry and I have hadadventures, without understanding what it was all about. Can't youexplain? Where are we? And--why?" And then:
"Your lecture on the Blind Spot! You promised it to us--can you deliverit now?"
The professor smiled his acknowledgement.
"Part of it," he said; "enough to answer your questions to some extent.Had I stayed in Berkeley I could have delivered it all, but"--and helaughed--"I know a whole lot more, now; and, paradoxically, I know farless! First let me speak to the Geos." He learned that the struggleoutside had terminated successfully for the Rhamda and his men. All wasquiet. The Senestro had made his escape in safety back to the Mahovisal.The doctor ordered that he was not to be molested.
The Geos and the others left the room, escorting the Aradna, who wastoo exhausted for further experiences. There remained with the doctor,Chick, Harry, and the Nervina.
"I will reduce that lecture to synopsis form," began the professor. "Ishall tell you all that I know, up to this moment. First, however, letme show you something."
He indicated the table from which he had risen. Chief among the objectson its top were fragments of minerals, some familiar, some strange.Above and on all sides were the crystal globes or, at least, what Chicknamed as such--erected upon as many tripods. One of these the professormoved toward the table.
Simultaneously a tiny dot appeared on a small metal plate in the centreof the table. At first almost invisible, it grew, after a minute or so,to a definite bit of matter.
The professor moved the tripod away. Nearby crystals, inside ofwhich some dull lights had leaped into momentary being, subsided intoquiescence. And the three observers looked again and again at the solidfragment of material that had grown before their eyes on that table.
Something had been made out of nothing!
The doctor picked it up and held it unconcernedly in his fingers.
"Can anybody tell me," asked he, "what this is?"
There was no answer. The professor tossed the thing back on the table.It gave forth a sharp, metallic sound.
"You are looking at ether," spoke he. "It is the ether itself--nothingelse. You call it matter; others would call it iron; but those aremerely names. I call it ether in motion--materialised force-coherentvibration.
"Like everything else in the universe it answers to a law. It has itsreason--there is no such thing as chance. Do you follow? That fragmentis simply a principle, allowed to manifest itself through a natural law!
"Try to follow me. All is out of the ether--all! Variety in matter issimply a question of varying degrees of electronic activity, dependingupon a number of ratios. Life itself, as well as materiality and force,comes out of the all-pervading ether.
"This object here," touching the crystal, "is merely a conductor. Itpicks up the ether and sends it through a set degree of vibrationalactivity. Result? It makes iron!
"If you wish you may go back to our twentieth century for a parallel--bywhich I mean, electricity. It is gathered crudely; but the time willcome when it will be picked up out of the air in precisely the samemanner that men pick hydrocarbons out of petroleum, or as I sift thedesired quality of ether through that globe.
"This, I am convinced, is one of the fundamental secrets of the BlindSpot. Is there any question?"
Wendel managed to put one.
"You said, 'back in the twentieth century.' Is it a question of timedisplacement, sir?"
"Suppose we forgo that point at present. You will note, however, thatthe Thomahlian world is certainly far in advance of our own."
"Professor," asked Watson, "is it the occult?"
"Ah," brightening; "now we are getting back to the old point. However,what is the occult?" He paused; then--"Did it ever occur to you, thatthe occult might prove to be the real world, proving that life we haveknown to be merely a shadow?"
Silence greeted this. The professor went on:
"Let me ask you: Are you living in a real world now, or an unreal one?"There was no respo
nse. "It is, of course, a reality; just as truly as ifyou were in San Francisco. So," very distinctly, "perhaps it is merely aquestion of viewpoint, as to which is the occult!"
"Just what we want to know," from Harry.
"And that," tossing up his hands, "is exactly what I cannot tell you.I have found out many things, but I cannot be sure. I left certainty inBerkeley.
"Today I feel that there is some great fate, some unknown force thatdefies analysis, defies all attempts at resolution--a force that isdriving me through the role of the Jarados. We are all a part of theProphecy!
"We must wait for the last day for our answer. That Prophecy must andwill be fulfilled. And on that day we shall have the key to the BlindSpot--we shall know the where of the occult."
He took a sip from a tumbler of the familiar green fluid.
"Now that I have told you this much, I am going back to the beginning.I, too, have had adventures.
"How did I come to discover the Blind Spot?
"It was about one year prior to my last lecture at the university. Atthe time I had been doing much psychic-research work, all of which youknow. And out of it I had adduced some peculiar theories. For example:
"Undoubtedly there is such a thing as a spirit world. If all the mediumsbut one were dishonest, and that one produced the results that couldn'tbe explained away by psychology, then we must admit the existence ofanother world.
"But reason tells us that there is nothing but reality; that if therewere a spirit world it must be just as real, just as substantial asour own. Moreover--somewhere, somehow, here must be a definite point ofcontact!
"That was approximately my theory. Of course I had no idea how close Ihad come to a great truth. To some extent it was pure guesswork.
"Then, one day Budge Kennedy brought me the blue stone. He told me itshistory, and he maintained that it was lighter than air, which of courseI disbelieved until I took it out of the ring and saw for myself.
"I went at once to the house at 288 Chatterton Place. There I found anold lady who had lived in the house for some time. I asked to see thecellar where the stone had been unearthed. Understand, I had no idea ofthe great discovery I was about to make; I merely wanted to see. And Ifound something almost as impossible as the blue stone itself-agreen one, heavier than any known mineral, answering to no knownclassification but of an entirely new element. It was no larger than apea, but of incredible weight.
"Coming upstairs I found the old lady a bit perturbed. I had told her myname; she had recognised me as well.
"'Come with me,' she said.
"With that she opened a door. She was very old and very uncertain; yetshe was scarcely afraid.
"'In there," she said, and pointed through the door.
"I entered an ordinary room, furnished as a parlour. There was a sofa, atable, a few chairs; little else.
"'What do you mean?' I asked.
"'The man!'
"'The man! What man?"
"'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was shining.He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a lad that's inneed of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa. He was tired, yousee, and--I once had a son of my own.'
"She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could feel thepressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.
"'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it! Theytook him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'
"She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.
"'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when--they tookhim! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and the moon--itwas gone. And then--' She looked up at me again and whispered: 'And thenI heard a bell--a very beautiful bell--a church bell, sir? But you know,don't you? You are the great Dr. Holcomb. That's why you went into thecellar, wasn't it? Because you know!'
"Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:
"'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good enoughto leave me to myself?'
"She closed the door after her. I had the green stone in my hand; it wasvery heavy, and I placed it on one of the chairs. The blue stone Istill held. At the moment I hadn't the least notion of what was about tohappen; it was all accident, from beginning to end.
"All of a sudden the room disappeared! That is, the side wall; I was notlooking at the dingy old wallpaper, but out through and into an immensebuilding, dim, vast and immeasurable.
"Directly in front of me was a white substance like a stone of snow.Upon this substance was seated a man, about my own age, as nearly as Icould make out. He looked up just as I noted him.
"Our recognition was mutual. Immediately he made a sign with one hand.And at once I took a step forward; I thought he had motioned. It was allso real and natural. Though his features were dim he could not have beenmore than ten feet distant. But, at that very instant, when I made thatone step, the whole thing vanished.
"I was still in the room at Chatterton Place!
"That's what started it all. Had this occurred to any one else in theworld I should have labelled it an unaccountable illusion. But it hadhappened to me.
"I had my theory; between the spiritual and the material there must be apoint of contact. And--I had found it! I had discovered the road tothe Indies, to the Occult, to all that other men call unknowable. And Icalled it--
"The Blind Spot."