by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER XIX
A DEATH-WARRANT IS PRESENTED TO A PRISONER
When Wilson Guest spoke of the final extinction of the wretched subjectof their experiments, Sir William Gouldesbrough did not answer. He beganto pace the long room, his head was sunk upon his breast, and his facewas like the face of Minos, inscrutable and deadly calm.
Suddenly the whistle of a speaking tube sounded in the wall. All thelaboratories and experimental rooms were thus connected with the houseproper. None of the servants were allowed to pass the connecting door,unless by special leave.
Guest went to the speaking-tube and placed it against his ear--an earthat was pointed like a goat's ear.
Then he looked at the tall figure which was pacing the laboratory."William," he called out with an impish giggle, "a lady has called tosee you. A lady from Curzon Street!"
Gouldesbrough stopped short in his walk and raised his head. His facesuddenly became a mask of eager attention and alertness.
Guest tittered with amusement at the effect which his words hadproduced. "Don't be agitated," he said, "and don't look like HenryIrving when he played Romeo. It isn't the young lady. It's the old one.It's Lady Poole. The butler has shown her into the study, and she'swaiting to know if you can see her."
Gouldesbrough did not reply, but left the laboratory at once. Guestcould hear his hurried footsteps echoing along the corridor. Then thepink-faced man turned to the whisky bottle again. He poured out afour-finger peg and sat down in the arm-chair which stood by thevulcanite table which controlled the vast and complicated apparatus ofthe thought spectrum. He sipped the whisky and looked at his watch."Rathbone's had the cap on for an hour," he said. "Well, he can go onwearing it for a bit. If William agrees when he comes back it will bethe last time Rathbone will have the pleasure of helping in ourexperiments. I may as well take a peep at his thoughts now. Lord! what afascinating game it is!" He turned a switch, and all the lights in theplace went out suddenly. Then his fingers found the starting lever ofthe machines.
He moved it, and immediately a low humming sound, as of a drum or fanrevolving at immense speed was heard, far away at the other end of thelaboratory. Then, immediately in front of where the scientist sat, thegreat white disc of light, full twelve feet in diameter, suddenlyflashed into view.
Images and pictures began to form themselves upon the screen.
* * * * *
Sir William found old Lady Poole in his study, not sitting placidly inthe most comfortable chair she could find, her usual plan wherever shemight be, but standing upon the hearth-rug and nervously swinging a thinumbrella, the jewelled handle of which sparkled in the firelight.
"Ah, William," she said at once in an agitated voice, letting him leadher to a chair while she was speaking. "Ah, William, I am upset aboutMarjorie. I am very upset about the girl. I thought over what was bestto be done, and I determined that I would take the bull by the horns andcome and talk things over with you. That is right, isn't it?"
There was a little anxiety in the good lady's voice, for, however muchshe desired Sir William for a son-in-law and liked him personally, shewas considerably afraid of him in certain of his moods.
"My dear Lady Poole," he replied with one of his rare and charmingsmiles, "there is no one whom I would rather see than you. And I'm surethat you know that. Tell me all about it."
His tone was gentle and confidential, and Lady Poole's face brightenedat once.
"Dear William!" she said. "Well, I've come to you to talk aboutMarjorie. Our interests are absolutely identical in regard to her. Youcan't want to marry my daughter more than I want to see my daughtermarried to you. Lately things have been going well between you both. Isaw that at once; nothing escapes me where Marjorie is concerned. Shewas quite forgetting her foolish fancy for that wretched young Rathbone,owing to his perfectly providential disappearance or death or whateverit was. Then I made sure that everything had come right at Lord Malvin'sparty, and especially when I heard that you were going to call next day.I went out. I thought it better. And when I came home my maid told methat Marjorie had not seen you after all. And since then I've kept aneye on all that was going on, and I'm very seriously disturbed. AnythingI say seems to have no effect. Marjorie will hardly let me mention yourname to her; I cannot understand it at all. Her manner is changed too.She seems expecting something or some one. My firm conviction is thatshe has another fit of pining for young Rathbone. I told her as muchone evening. In fact, I'm afraid I rather lost my temper. 'Guy Rathboneis most certainly dead,' I told her. 'I was as kind and sympathetic as Icould be,' I said, 'when Mr. Rathbone first disappeared. I very muchdisapproved of him, but I recognized you had a certain right to chooseyour own future companion, within limits. But now you're simply makingyourself and me miserable and ridiculous, and you're treating one of thebest-hearted and distinguished men in England in a way which is simplyabominable. It's heartless, it's cruel, and you will end by disgustingsociety altogether, and we shall have to go and live among the retiredofficers at Bruges or some place like that.'"
Lady Poole paused for breath. She had spoken with extreme volubility andearnestness, and there were tears in her voice.
It is a mistake to assume that because people are worldly they arenecessarily heartless too. Lady Poole really loved her daughter, but shedid earnestly desire to see her married to this wealthy and famous manwho seemed to have no other desire.
Sir William broke in upon the pause. "All you tell me, dear Lady Poole,"he said, "is very chilling and depressing to my dearest hope. Butdifficulties were made to be overcome, weren't they? and to the strongman there are no fears--only shadows. But what answer did Marjorie makewhen you said all this to her?"
"A very strange one, William. She said, 'Guy is not dead, mother. I knowit. I feel it. I feel certain of it. And when I feel this how can I sayanything to Sir William!' Then I asked her if she proposed to keep youwaiting for the rest of both your lives before she said anythingdefinite. She burst into tears and said that she was very miserable, butthat she intended to say something definite to you after the comingreception here when you are going to show every one your new invention."
"Yes," Sir William answered. "She has promised that, but I fear what heranswer will be. Well, we must hope for the best, Lady Poole. If I wereyou I shouldn't worry. Leave everything to me. I have everything atstake."
"Well, I felt I must come and tell you, William," Lady Poole said. "Ifelt that it would help you to know exactly how things stand. Perhapsall will come well. Girls are very difficult to manage. I wantedMarjorie to go out a great deal in order to occupy her mind and to keepher from brooding over this absurd fancy that Guy Rathbone is alive. Butshe seems to shun all engagements. However, she's fortunately thoughtthat she would like to try her hand at writing something, she wasalways interested in books, you know. So she's spending a good deal oftime over it--a story I think--and Mr. Donald Megbie is helping her. Hecalls now and then and makes suggestions on what she has done. A nice,quiet little man he seems, and a fervent admirer of yours. I sounded himon that point the other day. So even this little fancy of Marjorie's forwriting may turn out to be a help. Mr. Megbie is sure to becomeenthusiastic if your name is mentioned in any way, and it will keep thefact of how the world regards you well before Marjorie. Now, good-bye.It's a relief to have come and told you everything. I must fly, and Iknow you will want to get back to your electricity and things."
Sir William went with her to the garden-gate in the wall, where hercarriage was waiting. Then he went back to the study and took down thespeaking-tube that communicated with the large laboratory. He askedWilson Guest to come to him at once.
In a few minutes the assistant shambled in. His eyes were bright withthe liquid brightness of alcoholic poisoning; his speech was muchclearer and more decided than it had been earlier in the day. It hadtone and _timbre_. The crimson blotches on the face were less inevidence. Guest had drunk a bottle of whisky since breakfast-time, aquantity which would h
opelessly intoxicate three ordinary men andprobably kill one. But this enormous quantity of spirit was justsufficient, in the case of this man, to make him as near the normal ashe could ever get. A bottle of whisky in the morning acted upon thedrink-sodden tissues as a single peg might act upon an ordinary personwho was jaded and faint.
Gouldesbrough knew all the symptoms of his assistant's disease verywell. He recognized that the moment in the day when Guest was mosthimself and was most useful had now arrived. The effects of yesterday'sdrinking were now temporarily destroyed.
"I want your help, Wilson," he said, with a strange look in his eyes. "Iwant to resume the discussion we were beginning when Lady Poole called.You are all right now?"
"Oh yes, William," the man answered without a trace of his usual giggle,with the former sly malice of his manner quite obliterated. "This is mygood hour. I feel quite fit--for me--and I'm ready. About Rathbone youmean?"
"Exactly. Lady Poole has given me to understand that her daughter isstill pining after this person."
"Call him a _thing_, William. He isn't a person any more. He is just apart of our machinery, nothing more. And moreover a part of ourmachinery that is getting worn out, that we don't want any more, andthat we ought to get rid of."
"You think so?"
"I'm certain of it. We must not lose sight of the fact that while thereis life in that body there is always danger for us. Not much danger, Iadmit--everything was managed too well in the first instance. But stillthere is danger, and a danger that grows."
"How grows?"
"Because at the present moment the newspapers of the civilized world arefull of your name. Because the eyes of the whole world are directedtowards this house in Regent's Park."
"There is something in that, Wilson. Now my thought is that if the bodycould actually be found, then Miss Poole would know, with the rest ofthe world, that the fellow was actually dead. Could that be managed?"
Guest lit a cigarette. "I suppose so," he said, thoughtfully. "But thatwould be giving up an experiment I had hoped to have had the opportunityof performing. Human vivisection would give us such an enormous increaseof scientific knowledge. It is only silly sentiment that does not givethe criminal to the surgeon. But have it your own way, William. I willforego the experiment. It is obvious that if the body is to be found,there must be no traces of anything of that sort. There would be apost-mortem of course."
"Then what do you propose, Guest?"
"Let me smoke for a moment and think."
He sat silent for two or three minutes with the heavy eyelids almostveiling the large bistre-coloured eyes.
Then he looked up. His smile was so horrible in its cunning thatGouldesbrough made an involuntary shrinking movement. But it was amovement dictated by the nerves and not by the conscious brain, for,dreadful as was the thing Guest was about to say, there was something inSir William Gouldesbrough's mind which was more dreadful still.
"The body shall be found," Guest said, "in the river, somewhere downWapping way, anywhere in the densely-populated districts of the Docks.It shall be dressed in common clothes. When it is discovered andidentified--I know how to arrange a certain identification--it will beassumed that Rathbone simply went down to the slums and lost himself.There have been cases known where reputable citizens have suddenlydisappeared from their surroundings of their own free will and droppedinto the lowest kind of life for no explainable reason. De Quinceymentions such a case in one of his essays."
"Good. But how can it be done? We can't carry a body to Wapping in abrown paper parcel."
"Of course not. But has it not occurred to you that we are close to theRegent's Canal? I haven't worked out details. They will shape themselveslater on. But there are plenty of barges always going up and down thecanal. Certainly we can do the thing. It is only a question of money. Wehave an unlimited command of money. But, listen. Our body is alivestill. It will be quite easy for us--with our knowledge--to treat thisliving body with certain preparations, and in such a way that when it isdead it will present all the appearance of having been killed by excessin some drug. The post-mortem will disclose it. If we keep it aliveduring a month from now, we can make it a morphia maniac to allappearance. We can inject anything we like into this Rathbone and makehim a slave to some drug, whether he likes it or not!"
"No, Guest. The really expert pathologist would discover it. It couldn'tbe done in a month. It might in six."
"The really expert pathologist won't perform the post-mortem, William.There are only ten in London! Some local doctor of the police will applythe usual tests and discover exactly what we wish him to discover. Hewill analyze a corpse. He won't synthesize a history of the corpse. Onlyten men in England could do that with certainty, and you and I are twoof those ten, though it is many years ago since we gave up that sort ofwork for physics. So you see your object will be doubly served. Theactual death will be proved, and the fellow's life be discredited whilethe apparently true reason of his disappearance will be revealed."
Sir William looked steadily at his assistant. "Your brain is wonderfullysufficient," he said. "It is extraordinary how it withstands the ravagesof alcohol. Really, my dear Wilson, you are a remarkable man. All yousay is quite excellent. And, meanwhile, I have a proposal to make."
He suddenly rose from his chair, and his eyes began to blaze with insanepassion. He shook with it, his whole face was transformed. In his turnhe became abnormal.
And just as the famous man had thought of the lesser, a moment or twoago--had regarded him coldly and spoken of him, to him, as a minddiseased--so now the lesser, stimulated to spurious sanity for themoment, saw the light of mania in his chief's eyes.
Two great forces, two great criminals, two horrid egotists, and bothlost men! Lost far more certainly and irrevocably than the prisoned anddying gentleman far below in the strong room, where the electric fanswhispered all day and night, where the fetters jingled and the heart wasturning to salt stone!
The man was changed utterly. The grave courtly ascetic vanished as abreath on glass vanishes. And in his stead stood a creature racked withevil jealousy and malice, a gaunt inhuman figure in whose eyes was theglitter of a bird of prey.
Guest saw the swift and terrible drop into the horrible and thegrotesque. He realized that for a brief moment he was master of thesituation.
"Tell me, William," he said. "And what is your idea?"
Gouldesbrough stopped. He turned towards his questioner and shook along, threatening arm at him.
"Why," he said, "all this time the man Rathbone has never known why weare keeping him in prison. He has never seen me, but day by day you havedescended to his cell, caught him up in the toils of the chains which hewears, and hoisted him on to the couch. And all this time, when you havefitted the cap upon his head, the man has known nothing of the reasons.He is in the dark, mentally, as he is so often in the dark from aphysical point of view, when you, his jailer, see fit to turn off thelight. But now he shall know what we are doing with him. I am going downto tell him that every thought which has been born in his brain has beennoted and recorded by you and by me. I am going to tell him what we aregoing to do with his wretched body. He shall know of your proposals, howthat we, his lords and masters, will simulate in his tissues thephysical appearances of protracted vice. He shall know to-day how hisbody will be discovered, and how his memory will be for ever discreditedin the eyes of the world. And I shall tell him to-day, that as he liesbound and in my power, wearing the helmet of brass which robs him of hisown power of secret thought, that I am going up-stairs to watch hisagony in pictures, and that Marjorie will be with me--that she isutterly under my influence--and that we shall laugh together as we seeeach thought, each agony, chasing one another over the screen. We shallbe together, I shall tell him, my arms will be round her, her lips willseek mine, and for the first time in the history of the world...."
He stopped for a moment. His hand went up to his throat as if thetorrent of words were choking him. Then Guest cut in to his insane
ecstasy.
"You are a fool, William," came from the pink-faced man, in an icytitter. "Of course when you tell him why and how we have used him, hewill believe it. But I don't think that he will believe in your pleasantfiction of you and the girl as a sort of latter-day Lacooen in onearm-chair, laughing together as you take your supreme revenge."
Gouldesbrough strode up to Guest. He clutched him by the shoulder. "Giveme the keys," he said, "the keys, the keys."
Guest was not at all dismayed. Laughing still, he put his hand into hispocket and took out the pass-key of the strong-room.
"There you are, William," he said; "now go down and enjoy yourself. Ourfriend is still tied down on the couch--he's been like that for severalhours, because I've forgotten to go and loose him. I'm going to havesome more whisky, and then I shall go to the big laboratory and switchon the current. If I'm not very much mistaken, our friend's brain willprovide a series of pictures more intense and vivid, more sharplydefined in both outline and colour, than I have ever seen before, duringthe whole course of our experiments."
Gouldesbrough took the key and was out of the room in a flash. Guestgroped for the decanter.
* * * * *
His hair was quite grey now. All the gold had gone from it, just as theyouth had passed from his face--his face which was now the colour ofashes, and gashed with agony.
And he lay there, trussed and tied in his material fetters ofindia-rubber and aluminium. On his head the gleaming metal cap wasclamped. He was supine and an old man. All the sap had gone from thefine athlete of a few weeks ago, and the splendid body that had been,was just a shell, a husk.
But the soul looked through the eyes still, tortured but undaunted, inagony but not afraid.
In the lower silence of that deep cellar where Guy suffered there werebut two sounds. One was the insistent whisper of the electric fan, theother was the voice which came from Sir William Gouldesbrough as he bentover the recumbent figure--the broken, motionless figure in which,still, brave eyes were set like jewels.
"So now you know! You know it all, you realize, dead man, all that Ihave done to you, and all that I am going to do. Down here, in thislittle room, you have thought that you were alone. You have imaginedthat whatever had happened to you, you were yet alone with the agony ofyour thoughts, and with God! But you were not! Though you never knew ituntil now, you never were! Each prayer that you thought you weresending up to the unknown force that rules the world, was caught by me.For weeks I have daily seen into your soul, and laughed at itsirremediable pain. I have got your body, and for the first time in thehistory of the world, your mind, your soul, are mine also."
The voice stopped for a moment. It had become very harsh and dry. Itclicked and rang with a metallic sound in this torture-chamber farunderground.
And still the bright eyes watched the body of the man who was possessed,very calmly, very bravely.
The horrid voice rose into an insane shriek.
"She is up-stairs now, the girl you presumed to love, the rose of allthe roses that you dared to come near, is sitting, laughing as she seesall that you are thinking now, vividly before her in pictures and inwords. In a moment I shall be with her, and together we shall mock youragonies, twined in each other's arms."
Perhaps a vault in the dungeons of the Inquisition or in some otherplace of horror where merciless men have watched the agonies of theirbrethren, has echoed with pure merriment. Who can say, who can tell?
Such a thing may have happened, but we do not know. But to-night, atthis very moment, from the prone figure stretched on its bed of pain,from the heart of a man who had just heard that he was doomed to a crueldeath, and robbed of his very individuality, there came a bright andmerry laugh which rang out in that awful place as the Angelus rings overthe evening fields of France, and all the peasants bow in homage totheir Maker.
And then the voice. "I know now why I am here, and what has been done tome during these long, leaden hours. I am now at the point of death. But,with all your devilish cleverness, with all your brilliancy, you are butas a child. I suppose I shall not see you again, but I forgive you,Gouldesbrough, forgive you utterly. And it is easier for me to do this,because I know that you are lying. In this world she still loves me, inthe next she is mine, as I am hers. And it is because you know this thatyou come and rant and laugh, and show yourself as the fearful madmanthat you are. Good-bye, good-night; I am happier than you as I lie here,because I know that, for ever and a day, Marjorie loves me and I loveMarjorie. And it won't be any time at all before we meet."
And once again the laugh that echoed from stone wall to ceiling ofstone, was blithe and confident.