The Crack of Doom

  CHAPTER XVII.

  "THIS EARTH SHALL DIE."

  My memory does not serve me well in the scenes which immediatelypreceded the closing of the drama in which Brande was chief actor. It isdoubtless the transcendental interest of the final situation whichblunts my recollection of what occurred shortly before it. I did notabate one jot of my determination to fight my venture out unflinching,but my actions were probably more automatic than reasoned, as the timeof our last encounter approached. On the whole, the fight had been afair one. Brande had used his advantage over me for his own purpose aslong as it remained with him. I used the advantage as soon as it passedto me for mine. The conditions had thus been equalised when, for thethird and last time, I was to hear him address his Society.

  This time the man was weak in health. His vitality was ebbing fast, buthis marvellous inspiration was strong within him, and, supported by it,he battled manfully with the disease which I had manufactured for him.His lecture-room was the fairy glen; his canopy the heavens.

  I cannot give the substance of this address, or any portion of it,verbatim as on former occasions, for I have not the manuscript. I doubtif Brande wrote out his last speech. Methodical as were his habits it isprobable that his final words were not premeditated. They burst from himin a delirium that could hardly have been studied. His fine frenzy couldnot well have originated from considered sentences, although hislanguage, regarded as mere oratory, was magnificent. It was appalling inthe light through which I read it.

  He stood alone upon the rock which overtopped the dell. We arrangedourselves in such groups as suited our inclinations, upon some risingground below. The great trees waved overhead, low murmuring. Thewaterfall splashed drearily. Below, not a whisper was exchanged. Above,the man poured out his triumphant death-song in sonorous periods.Below, great fear was upon all. Above, the madman exulted wildly.

  At first his voice was weak. As he went on it gained strength and depth.He alluded to his first address, in which he had hinted that thematerial Universe was not quite a success; to his second, in which hehad boldly declared it was an absolute failure. This, his thirddeclaration, was to tell us that the remedy as far as he, a mortal man,could apply it, was ready. The end was at hand. That night should seethe consummation of his life-work. To-morrow's sun would rise--if itrose at all--on the earth restored to space.

  A shiver passed perceptibly over the people, prepared as they were forthis long foreseen announcement. Edith Metford, who stood by me on myleft, slipped her hand into mine and pressed my fingers hard. NatalieBrande, on my right, did not move. Her eyes were dilated and fixed onthe speaker. The old clairvoyante look was on her face. Her dark pupilswere blinded save to their inward light. She was either unconscious oronly partly conscious. Now that the hour had come, they who had believedtheir courage secure felt it wither. They, the people with us, beggedfor a little longer time to brace themselves for the great crisis--theplunge into an eternity from which there would be no resurrection,neither of matter nor of mind.

  Brande heeded them not.

  "This night," said he, with culminating enthusiasm, "the cloud-cappedtowers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, shall dissolve. Tothis great globe itself--this paltry speck of less account in space thana dew-drop in an ocean--and all its sorrow and pain, its trials andtemptations, all the pathos and bathos of our tragic human farce, theend is near. The way has been hard, and the journey overlong, and theburden often beyond man's strength. But that long-drawn sorrow now shallcease. The tears will be wiped away. The burden will fall from wearyshoulders. For the fulness of time has come. This earth shall die! Anddeath is peace.

  "I stand," he cried out in a strident voice, raising his arm aloft, "Imay say, with one foot on sea and one on land, for I hold the elementalsecret of them both. And I swear by the living god--Scienceincarnate--that the suffering of the centuries is over, that for thisearth and all that it contains, from this night and for ever, _Timewill be no more!_"

  A great cry rose from the people. "Give us another day--only anotherday!"

  But Brande made answer: "It is now too late."

  "Too late!" the people wailed.

  "Yes, too late. I warned you long ago. Are you not yet ready? In twohours the disintegrating agent will enter on its work. No human powercould stop it now. Not if every particle of the material I havecompounded were separated and scattered to the winds. Before I set myfoot upon this rock I applied the key which will release its inherentenergy. I myself am powerless."

  "Powerless," sobbed the auditors.

  "Powerless! And if I had ten thousand times the power which I havecalled forth from the universal element, I would use it towards theissue I have forecast."

  Thereupon he turned away. Doom sounded in his words. The hand of Deathlaid clammy fingers on us. Edith Metford's strength failed at last. Ithad been sorely tested. She sank into my arms.

  "Courage, true heart, our time has come," I whispered. "We start for thesteamer at once. The horses are ready." My arrangements had been alreadymade. My plan had been as carefully matured as any ever made by Brandehimself.

  "How many horses?"

  "Three. One for you; another for Natalie; the third for myself. The restmust accept the fate they have selected."

  The girl shuddered as she said, "But your interference with the formula?You are sure it will destroy the effect?"

  "I am certain that the particular result on which Brande calculates willnot take place. But short of that, he has still enough explosive matterstored to cause an earthquake. We are not safe within a radius of fiftymiles. It will be a race against time."

  "Natalie will not come."

  "Not voluntarily. You must think of some plan. Your brain is quick. Wehave not a moment to lose. Ah, there she is! Speak to her."

  Natalie was crossing the open ground which led from the glen to Brande'slaboratory. She did not observe us till Edith called to her. Then sheapproached hastily and embraced her friend with visible emotion. Even tome she offered her cheek without reserve.

  "Natalie," I said quickly, "there are three horses saddled and waitingin the palm grove. The _Esmeralda_ is still lying in the harbour wherewe landed. You will come with us. Indeed, you have no choice. You mustcome if I have to carry you to your horse and tie you to the saddle. Youwill not force me to put that indignity upon you. To the horses, then!Come!"

  For answer she called her brother loudly by his name. Brande immediatelyappeared at the door of his laboratory, and when he perceived from whomthe call had come he joined us.

  "Herbert," said Natalie, "our friend is deserting us. He must stillcling to the thought that your purpose may fail, and he expects toescape on horseback from the fate of the earth. Reason with him yet alittle further."

  "There is no time to reason," I interrupted. "The horses are ready. Thisgirl (pointing as I spoke to Edith Metford) takes one, I another, andyou the third--whether your brother agrees or not."

  "Surely you have not lost your reason? Have you forgotten the drop ofwater in the English Channel?" Brande said quietly.

  "Brande," I answered, "the sooner you induce your sister to come with methe better; and the sooner you induce these maniac friends of yours toclear out the better, for your enterprise will fail."

  "It is as certain as the law of gravitation. With my own hand I mixedthe ingredients according to the formula."

  "And," said I, "with my own hand I altered your formula."

  Had Brande's heart stopped beating, his face could not have become moredistorted and livid. He moved close to me, and, glaring into my eyes,hissed out:

  "You altered my formula?"

  "I did," I answered recklessly. "I multiplied your figures by ten wherethey struck me as insufficient."

  "When?"

  I strode closer still to him and looked him straight in the eyes while Ispoke.

  "That night in the Red Sea, when Edith Metford, by accident, mixedmorphia in your medicine. The night I injected a subtle poison, which Ipicked up in Indi
a once, into your blood while you slept, therebybaffling some of the functions of your extraordinary brain. The nightwhen in your sleep you stirred once, and had you stirred twice, I wouldhave killed you, then and there, as ruthlessly as you would kill mankindnow. The night I did kill your lieutenant, Rockingham, and throw hisbody overboard to the sharks."

  Brande did not speak for a moment. Then he said in a gentle,uncomplaining voice:

  "So it now devolves on Grey. The end will be the same. The Labradorexpedition will succeed where I have failed." To Natalie: "You hadbetter go. There will only be an explosion. The island will probablydisappear. That will be all."

  "Do you remain?" she asked.

  "Yes. I perish with my failure."

  "Then I perish with you. And you, Marcel, save yourself--you coward!"

  I started as if struck in the face. Then I said to Edith: "Be careful tokeep to the track. Take the bay horse. I saddled him for myself, but youcan ride him safely. Lose no time, and ride hard for the coast."

  "Arthur Marcel," she answered, so softly that the others did not hear,"your work in the world is not yet over. There is the Labradorexpedition. Just now, when my strength failed, you whispered 'courage.'Be true to yourself! Half an hour is gone."

  At length some glimmer of human feeling awoke in Brande. He said in alow, abstracted voice: "My life fittingly ends now. To keep you,Natalie, would only be a vulgar murder." The old will power seemed tocome back to him. He looked into the girl's eyes, and said slowly andsternly: "Go! I command it."

  Without another word he turned away from us. When he had disappearedinto the laboratory, Natalie sighed, and said dreamily:

  "I am ready. Let us go."