The Blind Spot

  XXXV

  THE PERFECT IMPOSTOR

  Chick gasped. Of all that assemblage--Rhamdas, guards, the occupantsof the two thrones--he himself was the most astounded. Was the greatprofessor in actual fact the true Jarados? If not, how explain thismiracle? But if he were, how to explain the duality, the identity?Surely, it could not be sheer chance!

  Fortunately for Chick, it was dark. All eyes were fixed on the trimfigure which occupied the space of the clover-leaf on the rear wall.Except for Chick's strangled gasp, there was only the hushed silence ofreverence, deep and impressive.

  Then another dot appeared. From its position, Watson took it to comefrom another leaf of the clover; another light approaching out of thevoid and cutting through the blackness exactly as the first had come.It grew and spread until it had filled the whole leaf; then, againthe bursting of the flare, the diminishing of the light, and itsdisappearance in a thin rim at the edge. And this time there wasrevealed--

  A handsome brown-haired DOG.

  Watson of course, could not understand. The silence held; he could feelthe Rhamda Geos at his side, and hear him murmur something which, initself, was quite unintelligible:

  "The four-footed one! The call to humility, sacrifice, andunselfishness! The four-footed one!"

  That was all. It was a shaggy shepherd dog, with a pointed nose and oneear cocked up and the other down, very wisely inquisitive. Chick hadseen similar dogs many times, but he could not account for this one;certainly not in such a place. What had it to do with the Jarados?

  Still the darkness. It gave him a chance to think. He wondered, rapidly,how he could link up such a creature with his description of theJarados. What could be the purpose of a canine in occult philosophy? Or,was the whole thing, after all, mere blundering chance?

  This is what bothered Chick. He did not know how to adjust himself;life, place, sequence, were all out of order. Until he could gatherexact data, he must trust to intuition as before.

  The two pictures vanished simultaneously. Down came the black waves fromthe windows, gradually, and in a moment the room was once more floodedwith that mellow radiance. The Rhamda Geos stepped forward as a murmurof awed approval arose from the assembly. There was no applause. Onedoes not applaud the miraculous. The Geos took his hand.

  "It is proven!" he declared. Then, to the Rhamdas: "Is there anyquestion, my brothers?"

  But no word came from the floor. Seemingly superstition had triumphedover all else. The men of learning turned none but reverent faces towardWatson.

  He forebore to glance at the Bar Senestro. Despite the triumph hewas apprehensive of the princes's keen genius. An agnostic is seldomconverted by what could be explained away as mere coincidence. Moreover,as it ultimately appeared, the Bar now had more than one reason forantagonising the man who claimed to be the professor's prospectiveson-in-law.

  "Is there any question?" repeated Rhamda Geos.

  But to the surprise of Chick, it came from the queen. She was standingbefore her throne now. Around her waist a girdle of satin revealed thetender frailty of her figure. She gave Watson a close scrutiny, and thenaddressed the Geos:

  "I want to put one question, Rhamda. The stranger seems to be a goodlyyoung man. He has come from the Jarados. Tell me, is he truly of thechosen?"

  But a clear, derisive laugh from the opposite throne interrupted theanswer. The Bar stood up, his black eyes dancing with mocking laughter.

  "The chosen, O Aradna? The chosen? Do not allow yourself to be trickedby a little thing! I myself have been chosen by the inherited law of theThomahlia!" Then to Chick: "I see, Sir Phantom, that our futures are tobe intertwined with interest!"

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "No? Very good; if you are really come out of superstition, then I shallteach you the value of materiality. You are well made and handsome,likewise courageous. May the time soon come when you can put your mettleto the test in a fair conflict!"

  "It is your own saying, O Senestro!" warned Geos. "You must abide by myLord's reply."

  "True; and I shall abide. I know nothing of black magic, or any other.But I care not. I know only that I cannot accept this stranger as aspirit. I have felt his muscles, and I know his strength; they are aman's, and a Thomahlian's."

  "Then you do not abide?"

  "Yes, I do. That is, I do not claim him. He has won his freedom. Butas for endorsing him--no, not until he has given further proof. Let himcome to the Spot of Life. Let him take the ordeal. Let him qualify onthe Day of the Prophet."

  "My lord, do you accept?"

  Watson had no idea what the "ordeal" might be, nor what might be thesignificance of the day. But he could not very well refuse. He spoke aslightly as he could.

  "Of course. I accept anything." Then, addressing the prince: "One word,O Senestro."

  "Speak up, Sir Phantom!"

  "Bar Senestro--what have you done with the Jarados?"

  An instant's stunned silence greeted this stab. It was broken by theprince.

  "The Jarados!" His voice was unruffled. "What know I of the Jarados?"

  "Take care! You have seen him--you know his power!"

  "You have a courageous sort of impertinence!"

  "I have determination and knowledge! Bar Senestro, I have come for theJarados!" Chick paused for effect. "Now what think you? Am I of thechosen?"

  He had meant it as a deliberate taunt, and so it was taken. The Bar shotto his feet. Not that he was angered; his straight, handsome form waskingly, and for all his impulsiveness there was a certain real majestyabout his every pose.

  "You are of the chosen. It is well; you have given spice to the taunt!I would not have it otherwise. Forget not your courage on the Day of theProphet!"

  With that he stepped gracefully, superbly from the dais beneathhis throne. He bowed to the Aradna, to Geos, to Chick and to theassembly--and was gone. The blue guard followed in silence.

  The rest of the ordeal was soon done. Nothing more was said about theJarados, nor of what the Bar Senestro had brought up. There were a fewquestions about the world he had quit, questions which put no strainupon his imagination to answer. He was out of the deep water for thepresent.

  When the assembly dissolved Chick was conducted back to the apartmentsupstairs. Not to his old room, however, but to an adjoining suite, amagnificent place--that would have done honour to a prince. But Chickscarcely noted the beauty of the place. His attention flew at once tosomething for which he longed--an immense globe.

  Chick spun it around eagerly upon its axis. The first thing that helooked for was San Francisco--or, rather, North America. If he was onthe earth he wanted to know it! Surely the oceans and continents wouldnot change.

  But he was doomed to disappointment. There was not a familiar detail.Outside of a network of curved lines indicating latitude and longitude,and the accustomed tilt of the polar axis, the globe was totallystrange! So strange that Chick could not decide which was water andwhich land.

  After a bit of puzzling Chick ran across a yellow patch marked withsome strange characters which, upon examination, were translated in someunknown manner within his subconscious mind, to "D'Hartia." Another waslettered "Kospia."

  Assuming that these were land--and there were a few other, smaller ones,of the same shade--then the land area covered approximately three-fifthsof the globe. Inferentially the green remainder, or two-fifths, was thewater or ocean covered area. Such a proportion was nearly the precisereverse of that obtaining on the earth. Chick puzzled over other strangenames--H'Alara, Mal Somnal, Bloudou San, and the like. Not one name oroutline that he could place!

  How could he make his discovery fit with the words of Dr. Holcomb, andwith what philosophy he knew? Somehow there was too much life, too muchreality, to fit in with any spiritistic hypothesis. He was surrounded byreal matter, atomic, molecular, cellular. He was certain that if he wereput to it he could prove right here every law from those put forth byNewton to the present.

  It was still the material universe; tha
t was certain. Therefor it wasequally certain that the doctor had made a most prodigious discovery.But--what was it? What was the law that had fallen out of the BlindSpot?

  He gave it up, and stepped to one of the suite's numerous windows.They were all provided with clear glass. Now was his opportunity for anuninterrupted, leisurely survey of the world about him.

  As before, he noted the maze of splendid, dazzling opalescence, all thecolours of the spectrum blending, weaving, vibrant, like a vast plainof smooth, Gargantuan jewels. Then he made out innumerable round domes,spread out in rows and in curves, without seeming order or system;BUILDINGS, every roof a perfect gleaming dome, its surface fairly alivewith the reflected light of that amazing sun. Of such was the landscapemade.

  As before, he could hear the incessant undertone of vague music, ofrhythmical, shimmering and whispering sound. And the whole air was ladenwith the hint of sweet scents; tinged with the perfume of attar andmyrrh--of a most delicate ambrosia.

  He opened the window.

  For a moment he stood still, the air bathing his face, the unknownfragrance filling his nostrils. The whole world seemed thrumming withthat hitherto faint quiver of sound. Now it was resonant and strong,though still only an undertone. He looked below him; as he did so,something dropped from the side of the window opening--a long, delicatetendril, sinuous and alive. It touched his face, and then--It drooped,drooped like a wounded thing. He reached out his hand and plucked it,wondering. And he found, at its tip, a floating crimson blossom asdelicate as the frailest cobweb, so inconceivably delicate that itwilted and crumbled at the slightest touch.

  Chick thrust his head out of the window. The whole building, from groundto dome, was covered--waving, moving, tenuous, a maze of colour--withorchids!

  He had never dreamed of anything so beautiful, or so splendid.Everywhere these orchids; to give them the name nearest to the unknownone. As far as he could see, living beauty!

  And then he noticed something stranger still.

  From the petals and the foliage about him, little clouds of colourwafted up, like mists of perfume, forever rising and intermittentlysettling. It was mysteriously harmonious, continuous--like life itself.Chick looked closer, and listened. And then he knew.

  These mists were clouds of tiny, multi-coloured insects.

  He looked down farther, into the streets. They were teeming with life,with motion. He was in a city whose size made it a true metropolis.All the buildings were large, and, although of unfamiliar architecture,undeniably of a refined, advanced art. Without exception, their roofswere domed. Hence the effect of a sea of bubbles.

  Directly below, straight down from his window, was a very broad street.From it at varying angles ran a number of intersecting avenues. Theheight of his window was great--he looked very closely, and made outtwo lines of colour lining and outlining the street surrounding theapartments.

  On the one side the line was blue, on the other crimson; they wereguards. And where the various avenues intersected cables must havebeen stretched; for these streets were packed and jammed with a surgingmultitude, which the guards seemed engaged in holding back. As far upthe avenues as Chick could see, the seething mass of fellow creaturesextended, a gently pulsing vari-coloured potential commotion.

  As he looked one of the packed streets broke into confusion. He couldsee the guards wheeling and running into formation; from behind, otherplatoons rushed up reinforcements. The great crowd was rolling forward,breaking on the edge of the spear-armed guards like the surf of arolling sea.

  Chick had a sudden thought. Were they not looking up at his window? Hecould glimpse arms uplifted and hands pointed. Even the guards, thoseheld in reserve, looked up. Then--such was the distance--the rumble ofthe mob reached his ears; at the same time, spreading like a grass fire,the commotion broke out in another street, to another and another, untilthe air was filled with the new undertone of countless human tongues.

  Chick was fascinated. The thing was over-strange. While he looked andlistened the whole scene turned to conflict; the voice of the throngbecame ominous. The guards still held the cables, still beat back thepopulace. Could they hold out, wondered Chick idly; and what was it allabout?

  Something touched his shoulder. He wheeled. One of the tall,red-uniformed guards was standing beside him. Watson instinctively drewback, and as he did so the other stepped forward, touched the snap, andclosed the window.

  "What's the idea? I was just getting interested!"

  The soldier nodded pleasantly, respectfully--reverently.

  "Orders from below, my lord. Were you to remain at that window it wouldtake all the guards in the Mahovisal to keep back the Thomahlians."

  "Why?" Chick was astonished.

  "There are a million pilgrims in the city, my lord, who have waitedmonths for just one glimpse of you."

  Watson considered. This was a new and a dazing aspect of the affair.Evidently the expression on his face told the soldier that someexplanation would not be amiss.

  "The pilgrims are almost innumerable, my lord. They are all of the onegreat faith. They are, my lord, the true believers, the believers in theDay."

  The Day! Instantly Watson recalled Senestro's use of the expression. Hesensed a valuable clue. He caught and held the soldier's eye.

  "Tell me," commanded Chick. "What is this Day of which you speak!"