Maître du monde. English

by Jules Verne

  Chapter 7

  A THIRD MACHINE

  I confess that at first this letter dumfounded me. "Ohs!" and "Ahs!"slipped from my open mouth. The old servant stared at me, not knowingwhat to think.

  "Oh, sir! is it bad news?"

  I answered for I kept few secrets from this faithful soul by readingher the letter from end to end. She listened with much anxiety.

  "A joke, without doubt," said I, shrugging my shoulders.

  "Well," returned my superstitious handmaid, "if it isn't from thedevil, it's from the devil's country, anyway."

  Left alone, I again went over this unexpected letter. Reflectioninclined me yet more strongly to believe that it was the work of apractical joker. My adventure was well known. The newspapers hadgiven it in full detail. Some satirist, such as exists even inAmerica, must have written this threatening letter to mock me.

  To assume, on the other hand, that the Eyrie really served as therefuge of a band of criminals, seemed absurd. If they feared that thepolice would discover their retreat, surely they would not have beenso foolish as thus to force attention upon themselves. Their chiefsecurity would lie in keeping their presence there unknown. They musthave realized that such a challenge from them would only arouse thepolice to renewed activity. Dynamite or melinite would soon open anentrance to their fortress. Moreover, how could these men have,themselves, gained entrance into the Eyrie unless there existed apassage which we had failed to discover? Assuredly the letter camefrom a jester or a madman; and I need not worry over it, nor evenconsider it.

  Hence, though for an instant I had thought of showing this letter toMr. Ward, I decided not to do so. Surely he would attach noimportance to it. However, I did not destroy it, but locked it in mydesk for safe keeping. If more letters came of the same kind, andwith the same initials, I would attach as little weight to them as tothis.

  Several days passed quietly. There was nothing to lead me to expectthat I should soon quit Washington; though in my line of duty one isnever certain of the morrow. At any moment I might be sent speedingfrom Oregon to Florida, from Maine to Texas. And this unpleasantthought haunted me frequently if my next mission were no moresuccessful than that to the Great Eyrie, I might as well give up andhand in my resignation from the force. Of the mysterious chauffeur orchauffeurs, nothing more was heard. I knew that our own governmentagents, as well as foreign ones, were keeping keen watch over all theroads and rivers, all the lakes and the coasts of America. Of course,the size of the country made any close supervision impossible; butthese twin inventors had not before chosen secluded and unfrequentedspots in which to appear. The main highway of Wisconsin on a greatrace day, the harbor of Boston, incessantly crossed by thousands ofboats, these were hardly what would be called hiding-places! If thedaring driver had not perished of which there was always strongprobability; then he must have left America. Perhaps he was in thewaters of the Old World, or else resting in some retreat known onlyto himself, and in that case--

  "Ah!" I repeated to myself, many times, "for such a retreat, assecret as inaccessible, this fantastic personage could not find onebetter than the Great Eyrie!" But, of course, a boat could not getthere, any more than an automobile. Only high-flying birds of prey,eagles or condors, could find refuge there.

  The nineteenth of June I was going to the police bureau, when, onleaving my house, I noticed two men who looked at me with a certainkeenness. Not knowing them, I took no notice; and if my attention wasdrawn to the matter, it was because my servant spoke of it when Ireturned.

  For some days, she said, she had noticed that two men seemed to bespying upon me in the street. They stood constantly, perhaps ahundred steps from my house; and she suspected that they followed meeach time I went up the street.

  "You are sure?" I asked.

  "Yes, sir and no longer ago than yesterday, when you came into thehouse, these men came slipping along in your footsteps, and then wentaway as soon as the door was shut behind you."

  "You must be mistaken?"

  "I am not, sir."

  "And if you met these two men, you would know them?"

  "I would."

  "Good;" I cried, laughing, "I see you have the very spirit for adetective. I must engage you as a member of our force."

  "Joke if you like, sir. But I have still two good eyes, and I don'tneed spectacles to recognize people. Someone is spying on you, that'scertain; and you should put some of your men to track them in turn."

  "All right; I promise to do so," I said, to satisfy her. "And when mymen get after them, we shall soon know what these mysterious fellowswant of me."

  In truth I did not take the good soul's excited announcement veryseriously. I added, however, "When I go out, I will watch the peoplearound me with great care."

  "That will be best, sir."

  My poor old housekeeper was always frightening herself at nothing."If I see them again," she added, "I will warn you before you setfoot out of doors."

  "Agreed!" And I broke off the conversation, knowing well that if Iallowed her to run on, she would end by being sure that Beelzebubhimself and one of his chief attendants were at my heels.

  The two following days, there was certainly no one spying on me,either at my exits or entrances. So I concluded my old servant hadmade much of nothing, as usual. But on the morning of thetwenty-second of June, after rushing upstairs as rapidly as her agewould permit, the devoted old soul burst into my room and in a halfwhisper gasped "Sir! Sir!"

  "What is it?"

  "They are there!"

  "Who?" I queried, my mind on anything but the web she had beenspinning about me.

  "The two spies!"

  "Ah, those wonderful spies!"

  "Themselves! In the street! Right in front of our windows! Watchingthe house, waiting for you to go out."

  I went to the window and raising just an edge of the shade, so as notto give any warning, I saw two men on the pavement.

  They were rather fine-looking men, broad-shouldered and vigorous,aged somewhat under forty, dressed in the ordinary fashion of theday, with slouched hats, heavy woolen suits, stout walking shoes andsticks in hand. Undoubtedly, they were staring persistently at myapparently unwatchful house. Then, having exchanged a few words, theystrolled off a little way, and returned again.

  "Are you sure these are the same men you saw before?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Evidently, I could no longer dismiss her warning as an hallucination;and I promised myself to clear up the matter. As to following the menmyself, I was presumably too well known to them. To address themdirectly would probably be of no use. But that very day, one of ourbest men should be put on watch, and if the spies returned on themorrow, they should be tracked in their turn, and watched until theiridentity was established.

  At the moment, they were waiting to follow me to police headquarters?For it was there that I was bound, as usual. If they accompanied me Imight be able to offer them a hospitality for which they would scarcethank me.

  I took my hat; and while the housekeeper remained peeping from thewindow, I went down stairs, opened the door, and stepped into thestreet.

  The two men were no longer there.

  Despite all my watchfulness, that day I saw no more of them as Ipassed along the streets. From that time on, indeed, neither my oldservant nor I saw them again before the house, nor did I encounterthem elsewhere. Their appearance, however, was stamped upon mymemory, I would not forget them.

  Perhaps after all, admitting that I had been the object of theirespionage, they had been mistaken in my identity. Having obtained agood look at me, they now followed me no more. So in the end, I cameto regard this matter as of no more importance than the letter withthe initials, M. o. W.

  Then, on the twenty-fourth of June, there came a new event, tofurther stimulate both my interest and that of the general public inthe previous mysteries of the automobile and the boat. The WashingtonEvening Star published the following account, which was next morningcopied by every paper in the country.
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  "Lake Kirdall in Kansas, forty miles west of Topeka, is little known.It deserves wider knowledge, and doubtless will have it hereafter,for attention is now drawn to it in a very remarkable way.

  "This lake, deep among the mountains, appears to have no outlet. Whatit loses by evaporation, it regains from the little neighboringstreamlets and the heavy rains.

  "Lake Kirdall covers about seventy-five square miles, and its levelis but slightly below that of the heights which surround it. Shut inamong the mountains, it can be reached only by narrow and rockygorges. Several villages, however, have sprung up upon its banks. Itis full of fish, and fishing-boats cover its waters.

  "Lake Kirdall is in many places fifty feet deep close to shore.Sharp, pointed rocks form the edges of this huge basin. Its surges,roused by high winds, beat upon its banks with fury, and the housesnear at hand are often deluged with spray as if with the downpour ofa hurricane. The lake, already deep at the edge, becomes yet deepertoward the center, where in some places soundings show over threehundred feet of water.

  "The fishing industry supports a population of several thousands, andthere are several hundred fishing boats in addition to the dozen orso of little steamers which serve the traffic of the lake. Beyond thecircle of the mountains lie the railroads which transport theproducts of the fishing industry throughout Kansas and theneighboring states.

  "This account of Lake Kirdall is necessary for the understanding ofthe remarkable facts which we are about to report."

  And this is what the Evening Star then reported in its startlingarticle. "For some time past, the fishermen have noticed a strangeupheaval in the waters of the lake. Sometimes it rises as if a wavesurged up from its depths. Even in perfectly calm weather, when thereis no wind whatever, this upheaval sometimes arises in a mass of foam.

  "Tossed about by violent waves and unaccountable currents, boats havebeen swept beyond all control. Sometimes they have been dashed oneagainst another, and serious damage has resulted.

  "This confusion of the waters evidently has its origin somewhere inthe depths of the lake; and various explanations have been offered toaccount for it. At first, it was suggested that the trouble was dueto seismic forces, to some volcanic action beneath the lake; but thishypothesis had to be rejected when it was recognized that thedisturbance was not confined to one locality, but spread itself overthe entire surface of the lake, either at one part or another, in thecenter or along the edges, traveling along almost in a regular lineand in a way to exclude entirely all idea of earthquake or volcanicaction.

  "Another hypothesis suggested that it was a marine monster who thusupheaved the waters. But unless the beast had been born in the lakeand had there grown to its gigantic proportions unsuspected, whichwas scarce possible, he must have come there from outside. LakeKirdall, however, has no connection with any other waters. If thislake were situated near any of the oceans, there might besubterranean canals; but in the center of America, and at the heightof some thousands of feet above sea-level, this is not possible. Inshort, here is another riddle not easy to solve, and it is mucheasier to point out the impossibility of false explanations, than todiscover the true one.

  "Is it possible that a submarine boat is being experimented withbeneath the lake? Such boats are no longer impossible today. Someyears ago, at Bridgeport, Connecticut, there was launched a boat, TheProtector, which could go on the water, under the water, and alsoupon land. Built by an inventor named Lake, supplied with two motors,an electric one of seventy-five horse power, and a gasoline one oftwo hundred and fifty horse power, it was also provided with wheels ayard in diameter, which enabled it to roll over the roads, as well asswim the seas.

  "But even then, granting that the turmoil of Lake Kirdall might beproduced by a submarine, brought to a high degree of perfection,there remains as before the question how could it have reached LakeKirdall? The lake, shut in on all sides by a circle of mountains, isno more accessible to a submarine than to a sea-monster.

  "In whatever way this last puzzling question may be solved, thenature of this strange appearance can no longer be disputed since thetwentieth of June. On that day, in the afternoon, the schooner"Markel" while speeding with all sails set, came into violentcollision with something just below the water level. There was noshoal nor rock near; for the lake in this part is eighty or ninetyfeet deep. The schooner with both her bow and her side badly broken,ran great danger of sinking. She managed, however, to reach the shorebefore her decks were completely submerged.

  "When the 'Markel' had been pumped out and hauled up on shore, anexamination showed that she had received a blow near the bow as iffrom a powerful ram.

  "From this it seems evident that there is actually a submarine boatwhich darts about beneath the surface of Lake Kirdall with mostremarkable rapidity.

  "The thing is difficult to explain. Not only is there a question asto how did the submarine get there? But why is it there? Why does itnever come to the surface? What reason has its owner for remainingunknown? Are other disasters to be expected from its reckless course?"

  The article in the Evening Star closed with this truly strikingsuggestion: "After the mysterious automobile, came the mysteriousboat. Now comes the mysterious submarine.

  "Must we conclude that the three engines are due to the genius of thesame inventor, and that the three vehicles are in truth but one?"