THE INFRA-MEDIANS
by
SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT
_The others fell back instantly._]
+-----------------------------------+ | Into a land of shadows and lost | | souls goes Pete Grahame in search | | of his hapless friends. | +-----------------------------------+
There was no sense to the note. There was no sense to anything that VicButler did, for that matter. Where he hid away his vast scientificknowledge in that rattle-brained, red-haired head of his has always beena mystery to me. The note read:
Dear Pete:
If you get this, I'm in a jam that promises some action.
Drive out, if plane-peddling is palling on you, and bust into the lab. I'm leaving another note there for you, old son, and after you read it you can let your conscience be your guide.
Bring a gat along, and plenty of ammo. Hope's away, at Aunt Cleo's, so don't get in touch with her and spoil her visit.
Vic
I had a hot prospect lined up for a demonstration that morning, but Ididn't even stop to give him a ring. Vic and I had been buddies eversince we were kids--and, besides, he was Hope's brother.
Vic's place was out on the river, about ten miles from town, and thatlittle tan roadster of mine made it in just about ten minutes. Thetraffic in the business district slowed me up a bit.
There was nothing at all pretentious about the place; it was a rambling,lazy-looking house built largely of native stone, stretching its lengthcomfortably in the shade of the big maples. Perrin, Vic'sman-of-all-work, came hurrying out of the house to greet me as I lockedmy wheels on the drive before the door.
"I'm glad you're here, sir!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "I was justabout to phone for the police; I was for certain, sir. Such goings on, Idon't know what to think!"
"What's the matter, Perrin? Where's Mr. Butler?"
"That's it, sir! That's exactly it. Where's Mr. Butler? And--"
"Just a moment, please! Cut it short, Perrin. What's happened?"
* * * * *
"I don't know. Yesterday afternoon Mr. Butler leaves a letter for me,which I'm to mail early this morning, special delivery. It's to you. Ireckon you got it, sir?"
"That's why I'm here. Go on."
"Well, after that, he locks himself up in his workroom, so Mrs. Perrinsays, she being housekeeper, as you know, sir, leaving word not todisturb him for dinner.
"We don't think so much of that, Mr. Butler being took with streaks ofworking at all hours, as you know. But when Miss Hope came homeunexpected this morning--"
"What?"
"She cut her visit a few days short, her aunt having other house gueststurn up unexpected like, and Miss Hope arrives first thing this morning,being here when I return from town after mailing the letter to you, sir.
"Mrs. Perrin had just told her about the master, and Miss Hope looksinto his room. He isn't there, and the bed hasn't been slept in. 'Thepoor dear,' she says, 'he's worked himself half to death, and droppedoff on that horrible cot he keeps in his laboratory,' says Miss Hope.'I'll let him sleep.'
"But just a few minutes ago, just before you arrived, sir, she becamenervous like, and rapped on the door. There wasn't a sound. So she wentup to the master's room and found a key, and went in. And now _she_don't answer, and we were just about ready to call the police!"
"Let's go inside!" I hurried by Perrin and through the cool, quiet hallto the broad door that opened into the big room at the back of thehouse, which was Vic's laboratory.
* * * * *
"Vic! Hope!" I pounded as hard as I could, shouting their names. Therewas no response.
"Is there another key, Perrin?" I snapped.
"No, sir; none that I know of. The master was mighty fussy about hisworkroom."
"Can we get in through the windows?"
"No. They're barred, if you remember rightly, and fitted with thisfrosted glass, so you can't see in, even."
"Then get me an ax!" I commanded. "Quick!"
"An ax?" hesitated Perrin.
"An ax--and be quick about it!"
Perrin mumbled a protest and hurried away. I turned to Mrs. Perrin, whohad come up to determine the result of my shouting.
"How long is it since Miss Hope went in there?"
"How long, sir? I'd say about twenty minutes before you came. Maybetwenty-five. I wasn't paying any particular attention, sir. She just gotthe key and went in. After a few minutes I heard something buzzing inthere, and I thought maybe Mr. Butler was showing her some new gadget ofhis, like he was always doing. Then there was a telephone call for him,and I couldn't make neither of them answer; that's when Mr. Perrin and Ibegan to get worried."
"I see." Perrin came hurrying up with the ax, and I motioned them aside.I swung the ax, and the head of the weapon crashed against the lock. Theknob dropped to the floor with a clatter, but the door gave not at all.
I brought the ax down again, and something cracked sharply. The thirdblow sent the door swinging wide.
Cautiously, fearing I know not what, I entered the familiar room.Nothing, apparently, had been disturbed. There was no sign of disorderanywhere. The blankets on the narrow cot in the corner of the room hadnot been unfolded.
But neither Vic nor Hope were anywhere in sight.
* * * * *
"You and Mrs. Perrin stay there by the door," I suggested. "I don't knowwhat's wrong here, but something's happened. There's no need for all ofus entering."
My second glance around the room was more deliberate. To my right werethe big generators and the switchboards, gleaming with copper bus-bar,and intricate with their tortuous wiring. Directly before me was thelong work-bench that ran the full length of the room, littered with adozen set-ups for as many experiments. At my left was a sizable piece ofapparatus that was strange to me; on a small enameled table beside itwas a rather large sheet of paper, weighted down with a cracked Florenceflask.
In a sort of panic, I snatched up the paper. Vic had said in his note,that he would leave another note for me here. This was it, for in a boldscrawl at the top was my name. And in hardly decipherable script, below,was his message:
Dear Pete:
First of all, let me say that you've no particular call to do anything about this. If I'm in a jam, it's my own doing, and due to my bull-headedness, of which you have so often reminded me.
Knowing your dislike for science other than that related to aeronautics, I'll cut this pretty short. It'll probably sound crazy to you, anyway.
You know that there's sound above the frequencies to which the human ear will respond. You know there are light rays that the human eyes can't perceive. Some work I've been doing the last five or six months indicates that there's a form of life about us, all around us, which isn't perceptible to our senses--which doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.
Well, I'm going to do a little exploring. I'm going to take a whirl at what I'll call the Infra-Median existence. What I'll find there, I don't know. Life of some kind, however, for my experiments prove that. Possibly not friendly.
All this being so, there's an off chance that I'll find myself tangled with something I can't anticipate. And if you are called upon to read this, then something has gone wrong with my plans.
Should you wish to take a flier after me, stand in the center of the square outlined by the four uprights of the device beside which this little table stands. Be sure your weapon--I told you to bring a gat--is on your person.
There's a small inst
rument board set on one of the posts. Turn the upper of the two dials until the hand of the meter beside it moves up to 2700 exactly. Wait a moment, until you're sure you have the exact reading. Then turn the second dial until the two red lines coincide, and as you do so, mark the time. The thing is set to operate the reverse cycle at three-hour intervals exactly. When you come down, you'll start a new cycle, and it might be important for us to know at just what minute we can get back to our own plane.
If you decide to try it, tell Perrin to do nothing for at least a week. If the law started experimenting on this equipment, we never could climb back. And leave word with