The Mystery of the Green Ray

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER V

  IS MORE MYSTERIOUS.

  I sat and stared at the old man in astonishment. Obviously he wasfully convinced that he was giving me an accurate account of whathad happened, and equally obviously he was perfectly sane.

  "That is all," he said presently. "The rock came to me."

  "Good heavens!" I exclaimed, suddenly brought to my senses by thesound of his voice. "What an extraordinary thing!"

  "For a moment I thought I was mad, and sometimes, when I have thoughtover it since--and the Lord knows how many times I've done that--I'vecome to the conclusion that I must have fallen asleep. But even nowthe fear haunts me that my mind may be going."

  "You mustn't imagine anything like that, General," I advisedseriously. "Whatever you do, don't encourage any doubts of your ownsanity. There must be some explanation of this, although I can't forthe moment imagine what it can possibly be. It is a remarkable thing,and I fancy you will find, when we do know the explanation, thatanyone else standing where you were at that time would have seenexactly the same thing. The rock stands out of the water; it is justabove a deep pool, and probably it was a sort of mirage effect, andnot by any means a figment of your brain."

  To my surprise the old man leaned back in his chair and burst outlaughing.

  "Of course," he exclaimed. "I never thought of that--a sort of mirage.Well, I'm begad thankful you suggested that, Ronald. I've no doubtthat it was something of the sort. What a begad old fool I am. Let uspray that our poor little girl's trouble," he added solemnly, "willhave some equally simple solution."

  The General was so relieved that I had given him, at any rate, somesort of reason to believe that his brain was not yet going, that hebegan to declare that he was convinced Myra would be better in a dayor two. So we arranged that I should take her up to London the nextday, and leave her in charge of her aunt, Lady Ruslit, and then, assoon as we had heard Sir Gaire's verdict, I was to bring her backagain. General McLeod had been anxious at first to come with us, but Ipointed out that he would be of more use to Myra if he stayed behind,and kept an eye on her interests in the neighbourhood. I promised towire him the result of the interview with Olvery as soon as I knew it.And just about a quarter to ten we went to bed.

  "Ronald," said the old man, as we shook hands outside my door,"there's just one thing I wasn't frank with you about in the matter ofthe Chemist's Rock. I am anxious to believe that it's a point of noparticular importance. You know the rock is a sort of sandstone, notgrey like the rest, but nearly white?"

  "Yes," I answered, wondering what could be coming next.

  "Well," said the old man, "that day when I saw it appearing to cometowards me it was not white, but green."

  "No," I said at last, when we had spent another twenty minutesdiscussing this new aspect in my room. "It's beyond me. I can't seehow the two events can be connected, and yet they are so unusual thatone would think they must be. I certainly think it is a point to putin detail before Olvery."

  "On the whole, I quite agree with you," said the General. "I am ratherafraid he may take us for a pack of lunatics, and refuse to bebothered with the case."

  "I'm sure he won't do that," I asserted confidently. "And he may havesome medical knowledge that will just shake the puzzle into place, andexplain the whole mystery to us. It seems to me a most remarkablething that these two strange affairs should have happened in exactlythe same place. That it is some strange freak of nature I have nodoubt, but I am absolutely at a loss to think what it can be."

  It can hardly be wondered at that, as I have said before, sleep and Iwere strangers that night, and I was glad enough when the time camefor me to get up.

  Myra came down after breakfast, wonderfully brave and bright, butthere was no sign whatever of her sight returning to her. Theleave-taking was a wretched business, and I cannot dwell on it. Sandystarted early to sail to Mallaig with the luggage, and we followed inthe motor-boat, Angus at the engine, old Mary McNiven in the bows,while I took the tiller, and Myra lay on a pile of cushions at myfeet, her head resting on my knee, her arm round Sholto's neck; forshe had wanted the dog to see her off at the station. The old Generalmanaged to keep up a cheery manner as he said good-bye at thelanding-stage, but he was looking so care-worn and haggard that I wasglad that he had been persuaded not to come up to London with us. Hewas certainly not in a fit state for the fatigues of a long journey.As we passed Glasnabinnie the _Baltimore_ slid out from the side ofthe shed that stood on the edge of the miniature harbour which Naturehad thoughtfully bestowed on the place.

  "I can hear a motor-boat," said Myra, suddenly sitting up.

  "Yes," I replied. "It's Hilderman's."

  "Is she ahead of us?" she asked.

  I looked round, and saw that the _Baltimore_ was putting out to roundthe point.

  "No, she's about level," I answered. "She's evidently making forMallaig. We are, if anything, a little ahead, but they will soon passus, I should think."

  "Oh, Ron," cried Myra, with childish excitement, "don't let them beatus. Angus, put some life into her. We _must_ make the harbour first."

  Angus did his best, and I set her course as near in shore as I daredon that treacherous coast. The _Baltimore_ glided out to sea with theeasy grace of a powerful and beautiful animal, and as we passed thejagged promontory she was coming up about thirty yards behind us.

  "Challenge him, Ron," Myra exclaimed; "you've met him."

  I turned, and saw Hilderman and two other men in the boat, one afriend apparently, and the other the mechanic. I stood up and waved tohim.

  "We'll race you to Mallaig," I shouted.

  "It's a bet," he agreed readily, at the top of his voice, waving back.

  It was a ding-dong business across the mouth of Nevis, and the_Baltimore_ was leading, if anything, but we had not far to go, andour opponents had taken a course a good deal farther out to sea thanwe were. Coming up by the lighthouse, however, the _Baltimore_ drew inat a magnificent pace, and swept in to pass inside the lighthouserock. Hilderman, who was quite distinct at the short distance, stoodup in the stern of the _Baltimore_, and looked at us. We were makinggood time, but we had no chance of outdistancing his powerful boat.But, as he looked at us, and was evidently about to shout sometriumphant greeting, I saw him catch sight of Myra, lying at my feet,her face hidden in the shade over her eyes. Suddenly, without theslightest warning, he swung the tiller, and, turning out again, tookthe long course round the lighthouse, and we slid alongside thefish-table a good minute ahead of him. Myra was delighted; she had nosuspicion that we had virtually lost the race, and the triflingexcitement gave her a real pleasure. Angus, I could see, was puzzled,but I signed to him to say nothing. My heart warmed to Hilderman; hehad seen that Myra was not well, and, divining that it would give hersome pleasure to win the race, he had tactfully given way to us. I wasreally grateful to him for his kindly thought, and determined to thankhim as soon as I could. We had nearly half an hour to wait for themid-day train, and, after seeing Myra and Mary safely ensconced in theMarine Hotel, I went out with Sholto to get the tickets, telegraph toDennis, and express my gratitude to Hilderman. But when I stepped outof the hotel he was standing in the road waiting for me.

  "Good morning, Mr. Ewart," he said, coming forward to offer me hishand. "Is there anything the matter with Miss McLeod?"

  "She's not very well," I replied. "She has something the matter withher eyes. It was very good of you to let us win our little race. Everylittle pleasure that we can give Miss McLeod just at this time is ofgreat value to us."

  "Eyes?" said Hilderman, thoughtfully, with the same dreamy expressionthat Dennis had pointed out at King's Cross. "What sort of thing isit? I know something about eyes."

  "I'm afraid I can tell you nothing," I replied. "She has suddenly losther sight in the most amazing and terrible manner. We are just takingher up to London to see a specialist."

  "Had she any pain?" he asked, "or any dizziness or fainting, oranything like that?"

  "No," I said; "th
ere is absolutely nothing to go by. It is a mostextraordinary affair, and a very terrible blow to us all."

  "It must be," he said gently, "very, very terrible. I have heard somuch about Miss McLeod that I even feel it myself. I am deeply grievedto hear this, deeply grieved." He spoke very sympathetically, and Ifelt that it was very kind of him to take such a friendly interest inhis unknown neighbour.

  "I think you'd better join me in a brandy and soda, Mr. Ewart," hesaid, laying a hand on my arm. "I don't suppose you know it, but youlook ten years older than you did yesterday."

  Yesterday! Good heavens! Had all this happened in a day? I wascertainly feeling far from myself, and I accepted his invitationreadily enough. We turned into the refreshment-room outside thestation, and I had a stiff whisky and soda, realising how far awayfrom London I was when the man gave me the whisky in one glass andthe soda in another.

  "Tell me," said Hilderman, "if it is not very rude of me to ask, ortoo painful for you to speak about, what was Miss McLeod doing whenthis happened? Reading, or what?" I gave him a rough outline of thecircumstances, but, in view of what the General had told me the nightbefore, I said nothing about the mystery of the green ray. We wantedto retain our reputation for sanity as long as we could, and nooutsider who did not know the General personally would believe thathis astonishing experience was anything other than the strangecreation of a nerve-wrought brain.

  "And that was all?" he asked thoughtfully.

  "Yes, that was all," I replied.

  "I suppose you haven't decided what specialist you will take herto when you get her to London?" he queried. I was about to reply whenI heard Sholto in a heated argument with some other dog, and I boltedout, with a hurried excuse, to bring him in. As I returned, with myhand on his collar, the harbour-master greeted me, and told mewe might have some difficulty in reaching London, as the trainservice was likely to be disorganised owing to the transport of troopsand munitions. When I rejoined Hilderman I was full of this newdevelopment. It would be both awkward and unpleasant to be turned outof the train before we reached London; and every moment's delay mightmean injury to my poor Myra.

  "I don't think you need worry at all, Mr. Ewart," my new friendassured me. "The trains will run all right. They may alter theservices where they have too many trains, but here they are not likelyto do so. Thank heaven, I shall not be travelling again for some time.I hate it, although I have to run about a good deal. I have a fewmodest investments that take up a considerable portion of my time. Ifigure on one or two boards, you know."

  I thanked him for his kindly interest, and left him. I wired to Dennisnot to meet the train, but to be prepared to put me up the followingnight. Then I got the tickets, and took Myra to the train. Hildermanwas seeing his friend off; a short, somewhat stout man, with flaxenhair, and small blue eyes peering through a pair of large spectacles.He bowed to us as we passed, and I was struck by the kindly sympathywith which both he and his companion glanced at Myra. Evidently theyboth realised what a terrible blow to her the loss of her sight mustbe. I will admit that, when it came to the time for the train tostart, my heart nearly failed me altogether. The sight of thebeautiful blind girl saying good-bye to her dog was one which I hope Imay never see again. As the train steamed out into the cutting Sholtowas left whining on the platform, and it was as much as Angus could doto hold him back. Poor Sholto; he was a faithful beast, and they weretaking his beloved mistress away from him. Myra sat back in thecarriage, and furtively wiped away a tear from her poor sightlesseyes.

  "Poor old fellow," she said, with a brave smile. "If they can't doanything for me in London he will have to lead me about. It'll keephim out of mischief."

  "Don't say that, darling!" I groaned.

  "Poor old Ron," she said tenderly. "I believe it's worse for you thanit is for me. And now that Mary has left us for a bit I want to saysomething to you, dear, while I can. You mustn't think I don'tunderstand what this will mean to you, dear. I want you to know,darling, that I hope always to be your very great friend, but I don'texpect you to marry a blind girl."

  I shall certainly not tell the reader what I said in reply to thatgenerous and noble statement.

  "Besides, dear," I concluded eventually, "you will soon be able to seeagain." And so I tried to assure her, till presently Mary returned.And then we made her comfortable, and I read to her in the darkenedcarriage until at last my poor darling fell into a gentle sleep.

  But twenty-six hours later, when I had seen Myra safely back to heraunt's house from Harley Street, I staggered up the stairs to Dennis'srooms in Panton Street a broken man.

  Dennis opened the door to me himself.

  "Ronald!" he cried, "what has happened?"

  "Hello, old man," I said weakly; "I'm very, very tired."

  My friend took my arm and led me into his sitting-room, and pressed megently on the sofa. Then he brought me a stiff brandy and soda, andsat beside me in silence for a few minutes.

  "Feel better, old boy?" he asked presently.

  "Yes, thanks, Den," I answered. "I'm sorry to be such a nuisance."

  "Tell me," he said, "when you feel well enough." But I lay, and closedmy eyes, for I was dog-tired, and could not bring myself to speak evento Dennis of the specialist's terrible verdict. And soon Natureasserted herself, and I fell into a deep sleep, which was the bestthing I could have done. When I awoke I was lying in bed, in totaldarkness, in Dennis's extra room. I sat up, and called out in mysurprise, for I had been many miles away in my slumbers, and my firsthope was that the whole adventure had been a hideous nightmare. ButDennis, hearing my shout, walked in to see if I wanted anything.

  "Now, how do you feel?" he asked, as he sat on the side of the bed.

  "Did you carry me in here and put me to bed?" I asked idly.

  "You certainly didn't look like walking, and I thought you'd be morecomfortable in here," he laughed.

  "Great Scott, man!" I cried, suddenly remembering his heart trouble,"you shouldn't have done that, Dennis. You promised me you'd take norisks."

  "Heavens! that was nothing," he declared emphatically. "You're aslight as a feather. There was no risk in that."

  Indeed, as events were to prove, it was only the first of many, butbeing ignorant of that at the time, I contented myself with pointingout that very few feathers turned the scale at twelve-stone-three.

  "Now look here, old son," said Dennis, in an authoritative voice. "Youmustn't imagine I'm dealing with your trouble, whatever it is (for you_are_ in trouble, Ronald), in a matter-of-fact and unsympathetic way.But what you've got to do now is to get up, have a tub, slip into adressing-gown, and have a quiet little dinner with me here. It's justgone eight, so you ought to be ready for it."

  He disappeared to turn on the bath-water, and then, when he met me inthe passage making for the bathroom, he handed me a glass.

  "Drink this, old chap," he said.

  "What is it?" I asked suspiciously. "I don't want any fancypick-me-ups. They only make you worse afterwards."

  "That was prescribed by Doctor Common Sense," he answered lightly."It's peach bitters!"

  After my tub I was able to tackle my dinner, with the knowledge that Iwas badly in need of something to eat, a feeling which surprised mevery much. Throughout the meal Dennis told me of the enlistment ofJack and poor Tommy Evans, and we discussed their prospects and thechances of my seeing them before they disappeared into the crowdedranks of Kitchener's Army. Dennis himself had been ruthlessly refused.He spoke of trying his luck again until they accepted him, but I knew,from what he told me of the doctor's remarks, that he had no earthlychance of being passed. He seemed to have entirely mastered his regretat his inability to serve his country in the ranks, but I understoodat once that he was merely putting his own troubles in the backgroundin face of my own. The meal over, we "got behind" two of Dennis'sexcellent cigars, and made ourselves comfortable.

  "Now then, old man," said my friend, "a complete and precise accountof what has happened to you since you left King's Cross t
wo days ago."

  "It has all been so extraordinary and terrible," I said, "that Ihardly know where to begin."

  "I saw you last at the station," he said, laying a hand on my knee."Begin from there." So I began at the beginning, and told him justwhat had happened, exactly as I have told the reader.

  Dennis was deeply moved.

  "And then you saw Olvery?" he asked. "What did he say?"

  I got up, paced the room. What had Olvery said? Should I ever forgetthose blistering words to the day of my death?

  "Come, old boy," said Dennis kindly. "You must remember that Olvery ismerely a man. He is only one of the many floundering about among themysteries of Nature, trying to throw light upon darkness. You mustn'timagine that his view is necessarily correct, from whichever point helooked at the case."

  "Thank you for that," I said. "I am afraid I forgot that he mightpossibly be mistaken. He says he knows nothing of this case at all; hecan make nothing of it; it is quite beyond him. He is certain that nosuch similar case has been brought to the knowledge of opticalscience. His view is that there is the remotest possibility that thisgreen veil may lift, but he says he is sure that if there were anyscientific reason for saying that her sight will be restored he wouldbe able to detect it."

  "I prefer your Dr. Whitehouse to this man any day," said Dennisemphatically. "He took just the opposite view. This man Olvery, likeso many specialists, is evidently a dogmatic egotist."

  "I'm very glad you can give us even that hope. But the eyes are such adelicate instrument. It is difficult to see how the sight can berecovered when once it has gone. Of course, Olvery is going to dowhat he can. He has suggested certain treatment, and massage, and soforth, and he has no objection to her going back home again. Myra, ofcourse, is tremendously anxious for me to take her back to her father.She is worrying about him already; and, fortunately, Olvery knowsWhitehouse, and has the highest opinion of him."

  "Go back as soon as you can, old chap," Dennis advised. "Wire me ifthere is anything I can do for you at this end. I'll make someinquiries, and see if I can find out anything about any similar cases,and so on. But you take the girl back home if she wants to go."

  While we were still talking, Dennis's man, Cooper, entered.

  "Telegram for Mr. Ewart, sir," he said.

  I took the yellow envelope and opened it carelessly.

  "What is it?" cried Dennis, springing to his feet as he saw my face.

  "Read it," I said faintly, as I handed it to him. Dennis read themessage aloud:

  "Come back at once. I can't stand this. Sholto is blind.--McLEOD."