The Soul Stealer

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE DOOM CONTINUES

  They were all watching, and watching very intently. All they could seewas a bright circle of light which flashed out upon the opposite wall.It was just as though they were watching an ordinary exhibition of themagic-lantern or the cinematograph.

  And suddenly, swiftly, these world-worn and weary people of society,these scientists who lived by measure and by rule, saw that all SirWilliam Gouldesbrough had said was true--and truer than he himself knew.

  For upon this white screen, where all their eyes were fixed, there camea picture of the Holy City, and it was a picture such as no singleperson there had ever seen before.

  For it was not that definite and coloured presentment of a scene caughtby the camera and reproduced through the mechanical means of a lens,which is a thing which has no soul. It was the picture of that HolyCity to which all men's thoughts turn in trouble or in great crises oftheir lives. And it was a picture coloured by the imagination of the manwho had just come back from Jerusalem, and who remembered it in thelight of the Christian Faith and informed it with all the power of hisown personality.

  They saw the sharp outlines of the olive trees, immemorially old, as afringe to the picture. The sun was shining, the white domes and roofswere glistening, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre loomed up large inthis vista, seen through a temperament, and through a memory, and seenfrom a hill.

  For a brief space, they all caught their breath and shuddered at themarvellous revelation of the power and magnificence of thought which wasrevealed to them at that moment. And then they watched the changing,shifting phantom, which was born from the thought of this good man, witha chill and shudder at the incredible wonder of it all.

  The afternoon, as it has been said, was thunderous and grim. While therepresentatives of the world that matters had been listening to SirWilliam, the forces of nature had been massing themselves upon thefrontier-line of experience and thought. And now, at this great moment,the clouds broke, the thunder stammered, and in that darkened place thewhite and amethyst lightning came and flickered like a spear thrown fromimmensity.

  The gong of the thunder, the crack and flame of the lightning, passed.There was a dead silence. Still the spectators saw the mapped landscapeof the Holy City shining before them, glad, radiant and serene.

  And then, old Lady Poole dropped her fan--a heavy fan made of ebony andblack silk. It clattered down the tier of seats and brought an aliennote into the tension and the darkness of the laboratory.

  Everybody started in the gloom. There was a little momentary flutter ofexcitement. And, as they all watched the gleaming circle of light uponwhich the brain of the Bishop had painted his memories so truthfully andwell, they saw a sudden change. The whole, beautiful picture becametroubled, misty. It shook like a thing seen through water at a greatdepth.

  Then the vision of the City where God suffered went straight away. Therewas no more of it. It vanished as a breath breathed upon a window cloudsand vanishes.

  The concentration of mind of the Bishop must then--as it was saidafterwards--have been interrupted by the sudden sound of the fallingfan, for all those celebrated men and women who sat and watched saw dimgrey words, like clouds of smoke which had formed themselves into thewritten symbols of speech, appear in the light.

  And these were the words--

  "God will not allow----"

  At that moment the silence was broken by a tiny sound. It is always thesmall sound that defines blackness and silence.

  Sir William, who perhaps had realized where the thoughts of the Bishopwere leading him, who had doubtless understood the terror of the nakedsoul, the terror which he himself had made possible, switched on thelight. The whole laboratory was illuminated, and it was seen that thepeople were looking at each other with white faces; and that the folk,who were almost strangers, were grasping each other by the wrist. Andthe Bishop himself was sitting quietly in the chair, with a very paleface and a slight smile.

  At that moment the people who had come to catch the visual truth of thissupreme wonder, rose as one man. Voices were heard laughing and sobbing;little choked voices mingled and merged in a cacophany of fear.

  It was all light now, light and bright, and these men and women of theworld were weeping on each other's shoulders.

  The Bishop rose.

  "Oh, please," he said, "please, my dears, be quiet. This is wonderful,this is inexplicable, but we have only begun. Let us see this thingthrough to the very, very end. Hush! Be quiet! There is no reason, noris there any need, for hysteria or for fear."

  The words of the Churchman calmed them all. They looked at him, theylooked at each other with startled eyes, and once more there was a greatand enduring silence.

  Then Sir William spoke. His face was as pale as linen; he was not at allthe person whom they had seen half-an-hour ago--but he spoke swiftly tothem.

  "His Lordship," he said, "has given us one instance of how the brainworks, and he has enabled us to watch his marvellous memory of what hehas so lately seen. And now, I will ask some one or other of you to comedown here and help me."

  Young Lord Landsend looked at Mrs. Hoskin-Heath and winked.

  "I shall be very pleased, Sir William," he said in the foolish, staccatovoice of his class and kind, "I shall be very pleased, Sir William, tothink for you and all the rest of us here."

  Lord Landsend stumbled down from where he sat and went towards thechair. As he did so, there were not wanting people who whispered toeach other that a penny for his thoughts was an enormous price to pay.The cap was fitted on his head; they all saw it gleaming there above thesmall and vacuous face; and then once more the lights went out.

  The great circle of white light upon the screen remained fixed andimmovable. No picture formed itself or occurred within the frame oflight and shadow. For nearly a minute the circle remained unsullied.

  Then Mrs. Hoskin-Heath began to titter. Every one, relieved from thetension of the first experiment, joined her in her laugh. They allrealized that young Lord Landsend could not think, and had not anythoughts at all. In the middle of their laughter, which grew and roseuntil the whole place was filled with it, the young man, doubtlessspurred on by this unaccustomed derision, began to think.

  And what they all saw was just this--some one they had all seen before,many times, after dinner.

  They simply saw, in rather cloudy colour, Miss Popsy Wopsy, thecelebrated Gaiety girl, alertly doing things of no importance, while thebaton of the conductor made a moving shadow upon the chiffon of herfrock.

  And so here was another brain, caught up, classified and seen.