The Blind Spot

  XIX

  HOBART FENTON TAKES UP THE TALE

  Right here at the outset, I had better make a clean breast of somethingwhich the reader will very soon suspect, anyhow: I am a plain, unpoetic,blunt-speaking man, trained as a civil engineer, and in most respectstotally dissimilar from the man who wrote the first account of the BlindSpot.

  Harry had already touched upon this. He came of an artistic family. Ithink he must have taken up law in the hope that the old saying wouldprove true: "The only certain thing about law is its uncertainty." Forhe dearly loved the mysterious, the unknowable; he liked uncertainty forits excitement: and it is a mighty good thing that he was honest, for hewould have made a highly dangerous crook.

  Observe that I use the past tense in referring to my old friend. I dothis in the interests of strict, scientific accuracy, to satisfy thosewho would contend that, having utterly vanished from sight and sound ofman, Harry Wendel is no more.

  But in my own heart is the firm conviction that he is still very muchalive.

  Within an hour of his astounding disappearance, my sister, Charlotte,and I made our way to an hotel; and despite the terrible nature of whathad happened, we managed to get a few hours rest. The following morningCharlotte declared herself quite strong enough to discuss the situation.We lost no time.

  It will be remembered that I had spent nearly the whole of the precedingyear in South America, putting through an irrigation scheme. Thus, Iknew little of what had occurred in that interval. On the other hand,Harry and I had never seen fit to take Charlotte into our confidence as,I now see, we should have done.

  So we fairly pounced upon the manuscript which Harry had left behind.And by the time we had finished reading it, I for one, had reached onesolid conclusion.

  "I'm convinced," I said, "that the stranger--Rhamda Avec--is anout-and-out villain. Despite his agreeable ways, I think he was solelyand deliberately to blame for Professor Holcomb's disappearance.Consequently, this Rhamda is, in himself, a very valuable clue as toHarry's present predicament."

  Referring to Harry's notes, I pointed out the fact that, although Avechad often been seen on the streets of San Francisco, yet the police hadnever been able to lay hands on him. This seemed to indicate thatthe man might possess the power of actually making himself visible orinvisible, at will.

  "Only"--I was careful to add--"understand, I don't rank him as amagician, or sorcerer; nothing like that. I'd rather think that he'smerely in possession of a scientific secret, no more wonderful initself than, say, wireless. He's merely got hold of it in advance of theothers; that's all."

  "Then you think that the woman, too, is human?"

  "The Nervina?" I hesitated. "Perhaps you know more of this part of thething than I do."

  "I only know"--slowly--"that she came and told me that Harry was soon tocall. And somehow, I never felt jealous of her, Hobart." Then she added:"At the same time, I can understand that Harry might--might have fallenin love with her. She--she was very beautiful."

  Charlotte is a brave girl. She kept her voice as steady as my own.

  We next discussed the disappearance of Chick Watson. These details arealready familiar to the reader of Harry's story; likewise what happenedto Queen, his Australian shepherd. Like the other vanishings, it wasfollowed by a single stroke on that prodigious, invisible bell--whatHarry calls "The Bell of the Blind Spot." And he has already mentionedmy opinion, that this phenomenon signifies the closing of the portal ofthe unknown--the end of the special conditions which produce the bluishspot on the ceiling, the incandescent streak of light, and the vanishingof whoever falls into the affected region. The mere fact that no traceof the bell ever was found has not shaken my opinion.

  And thus we reached the final disappearance, that which took away Harry.Charlotte contrived to keep her voice as resolute as before, as shesaid:

  "He and the Nervina vanished together. I turned round just as she rushedin, crying out, 'I can't let you go alone! I'll save you, even beyond.'That's all she said, before--it happened."

  "You saw nothing of the Rhamda then?"

  "No."

  And we had neither seen nor heard of him since. Until we got in touchwith him, one important clue as to Harry's fate was out of our reach.There remained to us just one thread of hope--the ring, which Charlottewas now wearing on her finger.

  I lit a match and held it to the face of the gem. As happened many timesbefore, the stone exhibited its most astounding quality. As soon asfaintly heated, the surface at first clouded, then cleared in a curiousfashion, revealing a startling distinct, miniature likeness of the fourwho had vanished into the Blind Spot.

  I make no attempt to explain this. Somehow or other, that stonepossesses a telescopic quality which brings to a focus, right in frontof the beholder's eyes, a tiny "close-up" of our vanished friends. Also,the gem magnifies what it reveals, so that there is not the slightestdoubt that Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson, Queen and Harry Wendel areactually reproduced--I shall not say, contained--in that gem. Neithershall I say that they are reflected; they are simply reproduced there.

  Also, it should be understood that their images are living. Only theheads and shoulders of the men are to be seen; but there is animationof the features, such as cannot be mistaken. Granted that these fourvanished in the Blind Spot--whatever that is--and granted that this ringis some inexplicable window or vestibule between that locality and thiscommonplace world of ours, then, manifestly, it would seem that all fourare still alive.

  "I am sure of it!" declared Charlotte, managing to smile, wistfully,at the living reproduction of her sweetheart. "And I think Harry didperfectly right, in handing it to me to keep."

  "Why?"

  "Well, if for no other reason than because it behaves so differentlywith me, than it did with him.

  "Hobart, I am inclined to think that this fact is very significant. IfChick had only known of it, he wouldn't have insisted that Harry shouldwear it; and then--"

  "Can't be helped," I interrupted quickly. "Chick didn't know; he wasonly certain that someone--SOMEONE--must wear the ring; that it mustn'tpass out of the possession of humans. Moreover, much as Rhamda Avec maydesire it--and the Nervina, too--neither can secure it through the useof force. Nobody knows why."

  Charlotte shivered. "I'm afraid there's something spooky about it, afterall."

  "Nothing of the sort," with a conviction that has never left me. "Thisring is a perfectly sound fact, as indisputable as the submarine.There's nothing supernatural about it; for that matter, I personallydoubt if there's ANYTHING supernatural. Every phenomenon which seems,at first, so wonderful, becomes commonplace enough as soon as explained.Isn't it true that you yourself are already getting used to that ring?"

  "Ye--es," reluctantly. "That is, partly. If only it were someone otherthan Harry!"

  "Of course," I hurried to say, "I only wanted to make it clear thatwe haven't any witchcraft to deal with. This whole mystery will becomeplain as day, and that damned soon!"

  "You've got a theory?"--hopefully.

  "Several; that's the trouble!" I had to admit. "I don't know which isbest to follow out.--It may be a spiritualistic thing after all. Orit may fall under the head of 'abnormal psychology'. Nothing buthallucinations, in other words."

  "Oh, that won't do!"--evidently distressed. "I know what I saw! I'ddoubt my reason if I thought I'd only fancied it!"

  "So would I. Well, laying aside the spiritualistic theory, there remainsthe possibility of some hitherto undiscovered scientific secret. Andif the Rhamda is in possession of it, then the matter simmers down to aplain case of villainy."

  "But how does he do it?"

  "That's the whole question. However, I'm sure of this"--I was fingeringthe ring as I spoke. The reproduction of our friends had faded, now,leaving that dully glowing pale blue light once more. "This ring isabsolutely real; it's no hallucination. It performs as well in broaddaylight as in the night; no special conditions needed. It's neither afraud nor an illusion.

  "In short
, this ring is merely a phenomenon which science has not YETexplained! That it can and will be explained is strictly up to us! Oncewe understand its peculiar properties, we can mighty soon rescue Harry!"

  And it was just then that a most extraordinary thing occurred. Ithappened so very unexpectedly, so utterly without warning, that it makesme shaky to this day whenever I recall it.

  From the gem on Charlotte's finger--or rather, from the air surroundingthe ring--came an unmistakable sound. We saw nothing whatever; we onlyheard. And it was clear, as loud and as startling as though it hadoccurred right in the room where we were discussing the situation.

  It was the sharp, joyous bark of a dog.