XXI
OUT OF THIN AIR
Except for the incident just related, when several pints of very realfluids were somehow "materialised" at a spot ten feet below where theyhad vanished, nothing worth recording occurred during the first sevendays of our stay at Chatterton Place.
Seemingly nothing was to come of the Rhamda's warning.
On the other hand we succeeded, during that week, in working a completetransformation of the old house. It became one of the brightest spots inSan Francisco. It cost a good deal of money, all told, but I could wellafford it. I possessed the hundred thousand with which, I had promisedmyself and Harry, I should solve the Blind Spot. That was what the moneywas for.
On the seventh day after the night of Harry's going, our household wasincreased to three members. For it was then that Jerome returned fromNevada, whence he had gone two weeks before on a case.
"Not at all surprised," he commented, when I told him of Harry'sdisappearance. "Sorry I wasn't here. That crook, Rhamda Avec, in at theend?"
He gnawed stolidly at his cigar as I told him the story. Then, afterbriefly approving what I had done to brighten the house, he announced:
"Tell you what. I've got a little money out of that Nevada case; I'mgoing to take another vacation and see this thing through."
We shook hands on this, and he moved right into his old room. I felt, infact, mighty glad to have Jerome with us. Although he lacked a regularacademic training, he was fifteen years my senior, and because ofcontact with a wide variety of people in his work, both well-informedand reserved in his judgment. He could not be stampeded; he had courage;and, above everything else, he had the burning curiosity of which Harryhas written.
I was upstairs when he unpacked. And I noted among his belongings alarge, rather heavy automatic pistol. He nodded when I asked if he waswilling to use it in this case.
"Although"--unbuttoning his waistcoat--"I don't pin as much faith topistols as I used to.
"The Rhamda is, I'm convinced, the very cleverest proposition thatever lived. He has means to handle practically anything in the way ofresistance." Jerome knew how the fellow had worsted Harry and me. "Ishouldn't wonder if he can read the mind to some extent; he might beable to foresee that I was going to draw a gun, and beat me to it withsome new weapon of his own."
Having unbuttoned his waistcoat, Jerome then displayed a curiouscontrivance mounted upon his breast. It consisted of a broad metalplate, strapped across his shirt, and affixed to this plate was aflat-springed arrangement for firing, simultaneously, the contents ofa revolver cylinder. To show how it worked, Jerome removed the fivecartridges and then faced me.
"Tell me to throw up my hands," directed he. I did so; his palms flewinto the air; and with a steely snap the mechanism was released.
Had there been cartridges in it, I should have been riddled, for Istood right in front. And I shuddered as I noted the small straps aroundJerome's wrists, running up his sleeves, so disposed that the act ofsurrendering meant instant death to him who might demand.
"May not be ethical, Fenton"--quietly--"but it certainly is good senseto shoot first and explain later when you're handling a chap like Avec.Better make preparations, too."
I objected. I pointed out what I have already mentioned; that, togetherwith the ring, the Rhamda offered our only clues to the Blind Spot.Destroy the man and we would destroy one of our two hopes of rescuingour friends from the unthinkable fate that had overtaken them.
"No"--decisively. "We don't want to kill; we want to KEEP him. Bulletswon't do. I see no reason, however, why you shouldn't load that thingwith cartridges containing chemicals which would have an effect similarto that of a gas bomb. Once you can make him helpless, so that you canput those steel bracelets on him, we'll see how dangerous he is with hishands behind him!"
"I get you"--thoughtfully. "I know a chemist who will make up'Paralysis' gas for me, in the form of gelatine capsules. Shoot 'em atthe Rhamda; burst upon striking. Safe enough for me, and yet put him outof business long enough to fit him with the jewellery."
"That's the idea."
But I had other notions about handling the Rhamda. Being satisfied thatmere strength and agility were valueless against him, I concluded thathe, likewise realising this, would be on the lookout for any possibletrap.
Consequently, if I hoped to keep the man, and force him to tell us whatwe wanted to know, then I must make use of something other than physicalmeans. Moreover, I gave him credit for an exceptional amount of insight.Call it super-instinct, or what you will, the fellow's intellect wastranscendental.
Once having decided that it must be a battle of wits I took a step whichmay seem, at first, a little peculiar.
I called upon a certain lady to whom I shall give the name of Clarke,since that is not the correct one. I took her fully and frankly into myconfidence. It is the only way, when dealing with a practitioner. Andsince, like most of my fellow citizens, she had heard something ofthe come and go, elusive habits of our men, together with the Holcombaffair, it was easy for her to understand just what I wanted.
"I see," she mused. "You wish to be surrounded by an influence that willnot so much protect you, as vitalise and strengthen you whenever youcome in contact with Avec. It will be a simple matter. How far doyou wish to go?" And thus it was arranged, the plan calling for theco-operation of some twenty of her colleagues.
My fellow engineers may sneer, if they like. I know the usual notion:that the "power of mind over matter" is all in the brain of the patient.That the efforts of the practitioner are merely inductive, and so on.
But I think that the most sceptical will agree that I did quite right inseeking whatever support I could get before crossing swords with a manas keen as Avec.
Nevertheless, before an opportunity arrived to make use of theintellectual machinery which my money had started into operation,something occurred which almost threw the whole thing out of gear.
It was the evening after I had returned from Miss Clarke's office. BothCharlotte and I had a premonition, after supper, that things were goingto happen. We all went into the parlour, sat down, and waited.
Presently we started the gramophone. Jerome sat nearest the instrument,where he could without rising, lean over and change the records. And allthree of us recall that the selection being played at the moment was "IAm Climbing Mountains," a sentimental little melody sung by a populartenor. Certainly the piece was far from being melancholy, mysterious, orotherwise likely to attract the occult.
I remember that we played it twice, and it was just as the singerreached the beginning of the final chorus that Charlotte, who satnearest the door, made a quick move and shivered, as though with cold.
From where I sat, near the dining-room door, I could see through intothe hall. Charlotte's action made me think that the door might havebecome unlatched, allowing a draught to come through. Afterwards shesaid that she had felt something rather like a breeze pass her chair.
In the middle of the room stood a long, massive table, of conventionallibrary type. Overhead was a heavy, burnished copper fixture, from whicha cluster of electric bulbs threw their brilliance upward, so that theroom was evenly lighted with the diffused rays as reflected from theceiling. Thus, there were no shadows to confuse the problem.
The chorus of the song was almost through when I heard from thedirection of the table a faint sound, as though someone had drawnfingers lightly across the polished oak. I listened; the sound was notrepeated, at least not loud enough for me to catch it above the music.Next moment, however, the record came to an end; Jerome leaned forwardto put on another, and Charlotte opened her mouth as though to suggestwhat the new selection might be. But she never said the words.
It began with a scintillating iridescence, up on the ceiling, not eightfeet from where I sat. As I looked the spot grew, and spread, and flaredout. It was blue like the elusive blue of the gem; only, it was morelike flame--the flame of electrical apparatus.
Then, down from that blinding radian
ce there crept, rather than droppeda single thread of incandescence, vivid, with a tinge of the colourfrom which it had surged. Down it crept to the floor; it was like anirregular streak of lightning, hanging motionless between ceiling andfloor, just for the fraction of a second. All in total silence.
And then the radiance vanished, disappeared, snuffed out as one mightsnuff out a candle. And in its stead--
There appeared a fourth person in the room.