The Blind Spot

  XXIV

  THE LIVING DEATH

  As soon as the fresh air had revived us somewhat, we first of allexamined Ariadne. She still lay unconscious, very pale, and alarminglylimp. I picked her up and carried her into the next room, wherethere was a sofa, while Jerome went for water and Charlotte broughtsmelling-salts.

  Neither of these had any effect. Ariadne seemed to be scarcelybreathing; her heart beat only faintly, and there was no response tosuch other methods as friction, slapping, or pinching of fingernails.

  "We had better call a doctor," decided Charlotte promptly, and went tothe phone.

  I picked up the card which the Rhamda had left. It contained simply hisname, together with one other word--the name of a morning newspaper.Evidently he meant for us to insert an advertisement as soon as we wereready to capitulate.

  "Not yet!" the three of us decided, after talking it over. And we waitedas patiently as we could during the fifteen minutes that elapsed beforethe telephoning got results.

  It brought Dr. Hansen, who, it may be remembered, was closely identifiedwith the Chick Watson disappearance. He made a rapid but very carefulexamination.

  "It has all the appearance of a mild electric shock. What caused it,Fenton?"

  I told him. His eyes narrowed when I mentioned Avec, then widened inastonishment and incredulity as I related the man's inexplicable effectupon the girl, and his strange immunity to the poison gas. But thedoctor asked nothing further about our situation, proceeding at once toapply several restoratives. All were without result. As a final resort,he even rigged up an electrical connection, making use of some coilswhich I had upstairs, and endeavoured to arouse the girl in thatfashion. Still without result.

  "Good Lord, Hansen!" I finally burst out, when he stood back, apparentlybaffled. "She's simply GOT to be revived! We can't allow her to succumbto that scoundrel's power, whatever it is!"

  "Why not a blood transfusion?" I asked eagerly, as an idea came to me."I'm in perfect condition. What about it? Go to it, doc!"

  He slowly shook his head. And beyond a single searching glance intomy eyes, wherein he must have read something more than I had said, heregretfully replied:

  "This is a case for a specialist, Fenton. Everything considered, Ishould say that she is suffering from a purely mental condition; butwhether it had a physical or a psychic origin, I can't say."

  In short, he did not feel safe about going ahead with any really heroicmeasures until a brain specialist was called in.

  I had a good deal of confidence in Hansen. And what he said soundedreasonable. So we agreed to his calling in a Dr. Higgins--the same man,in fact, who was too late in reaching the house to save Chick on thatmemorable night a year before.

  His examination was swift and convincingly competent. He went over thesame ground that Hansen had covered, took the blood pressure and otherinstrumental data, and asked us several questions regarding Ariadne'smentality as we knew it. Scarcely stopping to think it over, Higginsdecided:

  "The young woman is suffering from a temporary dissociation of braincentres. Her cerebrum does not co-act with her cerebellum. In otherwords, her conscious mind, for lack of means to express itself, is forthe time being dormant as in sleep.

  "But it is not like ordinary sleep. Such is induced by fatigue of thenerve channels. This young woman's condition is produced by shock; andsince there was no physical violence, we must conclude that the shockwas psychic.

  "In that case, the condition will last until one of two things occurs;either she must be similarly shocked back into sensibility--and I can'tsee how this can happen, Fenton, unless you can secure the co-operationof the man to whom you attribute the matter--or she must lie that wayindefinitely."

  "Indefinitely!" I exclaimed, sensing something ominous. "You mean--"

  "That there is no known method of reviving a patient in such acondition. It might be called psychic catalepsy. To speak plainly,Fenton, unless this man revives her, she will remain unconscious untilher death."

  I shuddered. What horrible thing had come into our lives to afflict uswith so dreadful a prospect?

  "Is--is there no hope, Dr. Higgins?"

  "Very little"--gently but decisively. "All I can assure you is that shewill not die immediately. From the general state of her health, she willlive at least seventy-two hours. After that--you must be prepared forthe worst at any moment."

  I turned away quickly, so that he could not see my face. What an awfulsituation! Unless we could somehow lay hands on the Rhamda--

  I hunted up Jerome. I said:

  "Jerry, the thing is plainly up to you and me. Higgins gives us threedays. Day after tomorrow morning, if we haven't got results by thattime, we've got to give in and put that ad in the paper. But Idon't mean to give in, Jerry! Not until I've exhausted every otherpossibility!"

  "What're you going to do?" he asked thoughtfully.

  "Work on that ring. I was a fool not to get busy sooner. As for therest, that's up to you! You've got to get yourself on the Rhamda's trailas soon as you can, and camp there! The first chance you get, ransackhis room and belongings, and bring me every bit of data you find.Between him and the ring, the truth ought to come out."

  "All right. But don't forget that--" pointing to the unexplained spoton the wood of the doorway. "You've got a mighty important clue there,waiting for you to analyse it."

  And he went and got his hat, and left the house. His final remark wasthat we wouldn't see him back until he had something to report about ourman.

  Five o'clock the next morning found my sister and me out of our beds anddesperately busy. She spent a good deal of time, of course in caring forAriadne. The poor girl showed no improvement at all; and we got scantencouragement from the fact that she looked no worse.

  Not a sound escaped her lips; her eyes remained closed; she gave no signof life, save her barely perceptible breathing. It made me sick at heartjust to look at her; so near, and yet so fearfully far away.

  But when Charlotte could spare any time she gave me considerable help inwhat I was trying to do. One great service she was rendering has alreadybeen made clear: she wore the ring constantly, thus relieving me ofthe anxiety of caring for it. I was very cautious not to have it in mypossession for more than a few minutes at a time.

  My first move was to set down, in orderly fashion, the list of the gem'sattributes. I grouped together the fluctuating nature of its pale bluecolour, its power of reproducing those who had gone into the Blind Spot,its combination of perfect solidity with extreme lightness; its qualityof coldness to the touch of a male, and warmth to that of a female; andfinally its ability to induct--I think this is the right term--to inductsounds out of the unknown. This last quality might be called spasmodicor accidental, whereas the others were permanent and constant.

  Now, to this list I presently was able to add that the gem possessed noradioactive properties that I could detect with the usual means. It wasonly when I began dabbling in chemistry that I learned things.

  By placing the gem inside a glass bell, and exhausting as much air aspossible from around it, the way was cleared for introducing other formsof gases. Whereupon I discovered this:

  The stone will absorb any given quantity of hydrogen gas.

  In this respect it behaves analogously to that curious place onthe door-frame. Only, it absorbs gas, no liquid; and not any gas,either--none but hydrogen.

  Now, obviously this gem cannot truly absorb so much material, in thesense of retaining it as well. The simple test of weighing it afterwardsproves this; for its weight remains the same in any circumstances.

  Moreover, unlike the liquids which I poured into the wood and sawafterwards in the basement, the gas does not escape back into the air. Ikept it under the Dell long enough to be sure of that. No; that hydrogenis, manifestly, translated into the Blind Spot.

  Learning nothing further about the gem at that time, I proceeded toinvestigate the trim of the door. I began by trying to find out theprecise thickness of that liquid-absorb
ing layer.

  To do this I scraped off the "skin" of the air-darkened wood. This layerwas .02 of an inch thick. And--that was the total amount of the activematerial!

  I put these scrapings through a long list of experiments. They toldme nothing valuable. I learned only one detail worth mentioning; if afragment of the scrapings be brought near to the Holcomb gem--say, towithin two inches--the scrapings will burst into flame. It is merelya bright, pinkish flare, like that made by smokeless rifle-powder. Noashes remain. After that we took care not to bring the ring near theremaining material on the board.

  All this occurred on the first day after Ariadne was stricken. Jeromephoned to say that he had engaged the services of a dozen privatedetectives, and expected to get wind of the Rhamda any hour. Both Dr.Hansen and Dr. Higgins called twice, without being able to detect anychange for the better or otherwise in their patient.

  That evening Charlotte and I concluded that we could not hold out anylonger. We must give in to the Rhamda. I phoned for a messenger, andsent an advertisement to the newspaper which Avec had indicated.

  The thing was done. We had capitulated.

  The next development would be another and triumphant call from theRhamda, and this time we would have to give up the gem to him if we wereto save Ariadne.

  The game was up.

  But instead of taking the matter philosophically, I worried about it allnight. I told myself again and again that I was foolish to think aboutsomething that couldn't be helped. Why not forget it, and go to sleep?

  But somehow I couldn't. I lay wide awake till long past midnight,finding myself growing more and more nervous. At last, such was thetension of it all, I got up and dressed. It was then about one-thirty,and I stepped out on the street for a walk.

  Half an hour later I returned, my lungs full of fresh air, hoping that Icould now sleep. It was only a hope. Never have I felt wider awake thanI did then.

  Once more--about three--I took another stroll outside. I seemedabsolutely tireless.

  Each time that I had turned back home I seemed to feel stronger thanever, more wakeful. Finally I dropped the idea altogether, went to thehouse, and left a note for Charlotte, then walked down to the waterfrontand watched some ships taking advantage of the tide. Anything to passthe time.

  And thus it happened, that, about eight o'clock--breakfast time at 288Chatterton Place--I returned to the house, and sat down at the tablewith Charlotte. First, however, I opened the morning paper to read ourlittle ad.

  It was not there. It had not been printed.