by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER XXIV
MR. WILSON GUEST MAKES A MISTAKE
Mr. Wilson Guest had seen all this many times before. The actualdemonstration would have given him amusement and filled him with thatodd secret pride which was the only reward he asked from that sciencewhich he had followed so long under different conditions than thepresent.
If Sir William Gouldesbrough had not absolutely prohibited the use ofany alcohol upon that day, Guest might have been normal and himself. Itwas in this matter that Sir William made a great mistake. In his extremenervousness and natural anxiety, he forgot the pathology of his subject,and did not realize how dangerous it is to rob a man of his drug, andthen expect him to do his work.
Guest's assistance had been absolutely necessary in the first instance,in order to prepare the various parts of the Thought Spectrum, and toensure the proper working of the machinery.
But now, when all that was done, when the demonstration was actuallygoing on and everything was working smoothly and well, there was noimmediate need at the moment for Guest's presence in the laboratory.
Accordingly, while Lord Landsend was vainly trying to secrete thought,Wilson Guest slipped out by the side-door in the dark. He was in a longpassage leading to the other experimental rooms, and he heaved a greatsigh of relief. High above in the air, the thunder could still be heardgrowling, but the corridor itself, lit by its rows of electric lightsand softly carpeted, seemed to the wretched man nothing but an avenue toimmediate happiness.
He shambled and almost trotted towards the dining-room in the other partof the house, where he knew that he would find something to drinkquicker than anywhere else. He crossed the big hall and went into thedining-room. No one was there.
It was a panelled room with a softly glowing wood fire upon the hearth,and heavy crimson curtains shutting out the dying lights of the day. Ona gleaming mahogany sideboard were bottles of cut-glass, ruby, diamond,and amber; bottles in which the soft firelight gleamed and was repeatedin a thousand twinkling points.
A loud sob of relief burst from the drunkard, and he went up to thesideboard with the impish greed and longing that one sees in some greatape.
And now, as his shadow, cast upon the wall in the firelight, parodiedand distorted all his movements, there seemed _two_ obscene and evilcreatures in the rich and quiet room. It was as though the man with hishuge hairless face were being watched and waited for by an ape-likeambassador from hell.
Guest clutched the mahogany sideboard and, his fingers were so hot thata greyness like that of damp breath on frosted glass glowed out upon thewood--it seemed as if the man's very touch brought mildew and blight.
Guest ran his eye rapidly along the decanters. His throat felt as thoughit was packed with hot flour. His mouth tasted as if he had been suckinga brass tap. His tongue was swollen and his lips were hard, cracked, andfeverish. He snatched the brandy bottle from a spirit-case, and pouredall that was in it into a heavy cut-glass tumbler. Then, looking roundfor more, for the tantalus had not been more than one-fourth part full,he saw a long wicker-covered bottle of curacao, and he began to pourfrom it into the brandy. Then, without water, or mineral water, he beganto gulp down this astonishing and powerful mixture, which, in a fourthof its quantity, would probably have struck down the ordinary man, as atree snaps and falls in a sudden wind.
It had been Guest's intention to take enough alcohol to put him intosomething like a normal condition, and then to return to the laboratoryto assist at the concluding scenes of the demonstration, and to enjoy itin his own malicious and sinister fashion. But as the liquor seemed tocourse through his veins and to relieve them of the intolerable strain,as he felt his whole body respond to the dose of poison to which he hadaccustomed it, thoughts of returning to the laboratory became very dimand misty.
Here was this large comfortable room with its panelled walls, its oldfamily portraits in their massive gilt frames, this fire of wood logs ina great open hearth, sending out so pleasant and hospitable aninvitation to remain. Every fibre of the wretch's body urged him to takethe twilight hour and enjoy it.
Guest sat down in a great arm-chair, padded with crimson leather, andgazed dreamily into the white heart of the fire.
He felt at peace, and for five minutes sat there without movement,looking in the flickering firelight like some grotesque Chinesesculpture, some god of darkness made by a silent moon-faced man on thefar shores of the Yang-tze-Kiang.
Then Mr. Guest began to move again; the fuel that he had taken wasburning out. The man's organism had become like one of those toy enginesfor children, which have for furnace a little methyl lamp, and whichmust be constantly renewed if the wheels of the mechanism are tocontinue to revolve.
Mr. Guest rose from the arm-chair and shambled over to the sideboardagain. The bottle of curacao was still almost full, though there did notappear to be any more brandy.
That would do, he thought, and he poured from the bottle into his glassas if he had been pouring beer. The wretched man had forgotten that, inhis present state--a state upon the very verge of swift and hiddenparoxysm and of death--the long abstention of the morning and afternoonhad modified his physiological condition. Moreover, the suddenness ofthese stealthy potations in the dining-room began to have their way withhim. He was a man whom it was almost impossible to make intoxicated, asthe ordinary person understands intoxication. When Guest was drunk, hismind became several shades more evil, that was all.
But at this moment the man succumbed, and in half-an-hour his brain wasabsolutely clouded and confused. He had forgotten both time andoccasion, and could not think coherently.
At last he seemed to realize this himself. He rose to his feet and,clutching hold of the dining-room table, swayed and lurched towards thedining-room door. There was a dim consciousness within him of somethingwhich was imminently necessary to be done, but which he had forgotten orwas unable to recall.
"What was it?" he kept asking himself with a thick indistinctness. "Iknew I had somethin' to do, somethin' important, can't think what itwas."
At that moment his hand, which he had thrust into his pocket, touched akey.
"I've got it," he said, "'course, I know now. I must go down and put thecap on Rathbone, after I have injected the alcohol preparation. Williamand I want to sit in front of the screen and follow his thoughts; theyare funnier than they ever used to be before we told him what we weredoing to him. I'll just take one more drink, then I'll go down-stairs tothe cellars at once."