Produced by Al Haines.

  THE SECRET OF THE EARTH.

  BY

  CHARLES WILLING BEALE.

  _Author of "The Ghost of Guir House."_

  F. TENNYSON NEELY, PUBLISHER, LONDON, NEW YORK.

  Copyrighted, 1899, in the United States and Great Britain, by F. TENNYSON NEELY.

  (All Rights Reserved.)

  *THE SECRET OF THE EARTH.*

  *PROLOGUE.*

  When Dirk Waaijen, master of the Voorne, was five days out from theisland of Celebes, a strange thing happened.

  For nearly a week the Dutchman had idled along with a cargo of cocoa,jaggaree, trepang, some Manado coffee, a few bags of nutmegs and otherproducts of the Archipelago, but without an incident worth logging; whensuddenly, an odd looking cask, with mast and streamer, was seen floatingin the waters ahead, and all hands became alive with excitement. Acouple of burly fellows hauled the barrel upon the deck, with theexpectation of a prize, but were discomfited on finding that itcontained only some cotton cloth, carefully wrapped about a dirtywater-stained document, written in a language which no one couldunderstand. Even Captain Waaijen himself was unable to read a word ofit, despite his wise look, and the volumes of smoke which he blew fromtime to time over the packet. Had he confided in me, his only Englishspeaking passenger, I might at least have made him comprehend theimportance of the paper, even if unable to render a literal translation;but the captain was surly, and took the bundle to his room. It is evenpossible that he was ignorant of the fact that it was written in theEnglish language. However this may have been, I was surprised onreaching Gravenhage, the end of our voyage, to have the paper thrustinto my hands by Waaijen himself, and without a word of explanation.Believing it to be merely the record of some unfortunate craft founderedin the South Sea, I laid the packet aside, not even unrolling it forweeks. When I did so, I was amazed at the contents, and immediatelysought the master of the Voorne; but he had left upon another of thoseendless voyages, the length of which even the company was unable todecide. Assured that no claim will ever be made upon the document, andoverwhelmed with the profundity of its contents, I offer it to thepublic, convinced that in the history of our planet, there is nothinghalf so astounding as the revelation it contains.

  It is to be regretted that the paper cannot be given in its entirety;the omissions, indicated by asterisks, being the result of damage causedby salt water to the MS., which has made it undecipherable in thoseplaces; the total thus lost amounting to more than a hundred pages.

  The following is an exact rendering of the decipherable parts of theAttlebridge papers, handed me by the captain of the Voorne.

  *I.*

  I am to write roughly of the past--more carefully of the present. Ofthe past that our identity may be established by reference to certainevents which many will remember, should we be lost. Of the present, forreasons that will be obvious as I proceed.

  On the morning of the 16th of November, 1894, I awoke to find myself theoccupant of a narrow iron bedstead, in a small, poorly furnished room.The wall paper was mildewed, and the ceiling discolored with smoke. Iwas unable to remember where I was, and called aloud:

  "Torrence!"

  A sleepy answer recalled the situation, and assured me that all waswell. Torrence, who was my twin brother, occupied the mate to my bed,on the opposite side of the room. Not wishing to disturb him, I layquietly watching the approach of dawn through a small window withVenetian blinds, crank-sided and broken. Later, I was myself aroused bya curse coming from the other bed. The curse was launched broadlyagainst the town, and concentrated into a deeper venom as it reached itsobjective climax--the room. I smiled and turned over.

  "Glad you're awake at last," I ventured, observing that he was lookingaround the place with a disgust equal to my own. It was our firstexperience of London. We were Americans, and had just landed. Torrenceyawned and declared that he had been awake all night, despite myassurance that he had been snoring shamefully.

  "I wonder when the old lady will want her pay for all this finery," hesaid, feeling the quality of the sheets, and looking up at the ceilingdismally. Indeed we had a right to feel blue, having but little money,and no friends, in a strange land.

  "She wants it as soon as she can get it," I replied, having consultedour landlady on the subject the previous evening. "In fact, she told meon our way up the stairs last night, that she generally required herlodgings to be paid for in advance; but that as we were Americans shewould not insist, although she trusted that we would be able to settlein a day or two."

  "She's too trustful by a jugful. We may not be able to pay her at all!"yawned Torrence.

  "Don't talk that way; you scare me!" I exclaimed.

  The truth is, I was never so daring as Torrence, who resembled me onlyin looks, and when he alluded to our impoverished condition, and itspossible consequences, I shuddered. Instinctively I glanced at the twomodest trunks against the wall, and reflected that they contained thebulk of our possessions. I knew there was not enough value in both topay our passage back to New York, when the little money we had broughtwith us should be spent. Moreover we had burned the bridges, and mustlook ahead.

  We had come to England for the same reason that Englishmen sometimes goto America, to ply our crafts, and earn a living, and now that we werethere, I heartily wished we were back. My eyes rested in a kind ofreverie on the ends of the trunks where our names were painted in large,white letters--Torrence and Gurthrie Attlebridge, respectively. Then Ibegan to wonder if the Attlebridges would ever distinguish themselves,and if either of us would ever carve a fortune out of the Babylon we hadadopted as a home. Torrence was an inventor, while I was a writer; andstrangely enough, with proclivities so widely divergent, we had managedwith twin-like harmony to quarrel with our patrons, and our bread andbutter simultaneously and irrevocably. Torrence decided at once toaccept the rather dubious offer of an Englishman, with whom he hadcorresponded, to aid him in the development of his air ship, and I--wellI decided to go with Torrence. Accordingly we scraped together whatlittle cash we could, and bade farewell to Gotham. We took passage in acattle boat, and were nearly three weeks upon the water, having reachedLondon on the afternoon previous to the opening of this record. Asearch for cheap lodgings in a moderately respectable part of town, hadlanded us in the cheerless apartment described.

  Torrence was again stretching himself, preparatory to rising; but thistime his invectives were hurled against the ship that had brought usover, and the bellowing beasts that had loaded it. Not heeding mybrother's unhappy reminiscences of the Galtic, and being anxious for thefuture, I inquired how much money he had left. His answer was notcheering.

  "About twenty pounds in those white paper things; three of those littlegold pieces, and a couple of dollars' worth of silver. That is from myrecollection of last night; but I must get up and count it."

  We jumped out of bed at the same instant, and began emptying ourpockets. We were not expert in estimating English money, but concludedthat we had a little over two hundred dollars between us, and that beingin a strange land, with no positive assurance of work, it behooved us tobe up and stirring. We determined to part with nothing we could helpuntil one or the other of us had found employment. At Torr
y'ssuggestion I had requested our landlady to remit her usual rule ofadvance payment, but reflection now made us doubt the wisdom of such acourse.

  "She may think we have less than we really have," I remarked.

  "How much time did you say she would give us?" asked Torrence in reply.

  I saw that he was anxious, and when my brother was anxious, I wasgenerally more so. In fact, although twins, I had always leaned uponhim, due, I suppose, to a tacit acknowledgment of his superior powers,and the fellow had powers superior to most men. Answering his question,I said:

  "She didn't mention any particular day, but only remarked that gentlemenusually paid in advance, but that as we were Americans----"

  "I see, as we were not gentlemen, but Americans, she'd wait till she gotit. What do you think under the circumstances we'd better do? Rememberthat a couple of hundred dollars for two men to live upon until theyfind work in a city like this, isn't exactly wealth. Remember also thesaying about a fool and his money. Now what shall we do about thelandlady?"

  "Pay her," I said without hesitation.

  "But when?"

  "Now! Give her a couple of weeks in advance, and then if we want acouple more on credit, it will be easier to get it."

  We decided that Torrence should take what funds we had, and in hisoff-hand, plausible manner, make the payment agreed upon. He had awonderful way of impressing people with the idea that money was of noimportance to him. When the settlement was made, I was glad he had doneit, it being evident that Mrs. Twiteham was impressed. I make a note ofthese trivial circumstances to show our actual condition, as well as forfuture reference should it ever be needed.

  This little transaction disposed of, we sauntered out into the street tolook after breakfast, which we found in a neighboring restaurant. Thevoyage had sharpened our appetites, and we ate a dollar's worth of foodin an alarmingly short space of time, an extravagance we agreed shouldnot be repeated. After breakfast, however, we felt that having startedthe day so liberally, it would hardly be fair to "clip off the cornersof a square meal," as Torry declared, by slighting its proper ending,and so we bought a couple of large cigars, and then climbed on top ofone of those great omnibuses with three horses, to seek our fortunes.

  It is singular how indifferent men will sometimes be to expenses withthe narrowest margin separating them from starvation, and yet howparsimonious they often become with untold wealth at their disposal; andin each instance their better judgment will condemn the course pursued.

  My brother's air ship had been for years upon the verge of success. Afortune had been already spent upon it, and his friends had growndistrustful. It was always a trifle that was needed to perfect themechanism, which was doubtless a triumph of inventive genius. It is notmy purpose to describe the machine, in fact it would be impossible forme to do so, being neither a mechanic nor a scientist, but I will simplysay that it was built of aluminum; shaped like an exaggerated cartridgesharpened at both ends and supported in the air by the application of anextraordinary discovery which neutralized the attraction of gravitation,and propelled by a horizontal screw beneath, which could be made torevolve at such enormous speed that the effect of the most violenthurricane was practically inoperative. As yet, only models had beenmade of the machine, the design being too intricate and costly to admitof a full sized apparatus until every detail had been mastered; but hislast model had flown, and come so near perfection, that an Englishgentleman had written to him about it, offering assistance under certainconditions. This offer might never have been considered, were it notfor the disaffection of his patrons about that time, but as it was, weleft America at once.

  The business firm that we were seeking was that of Wetherbee & Hart, No.3 Kirby Street. As the omnibus carried us through the crowdedthoroughfares, it was plain that Torrence was growing uneasy. Thingshad looked promising in the distance, but as the time approached for aninterview, we began to realize the consequences of a failure to elicitWetherbee's interest. Should he refuse to aid us we could see nothingbut the poorhouse ahead.

  On leaving the 'bus, we had a short distance to walk, and it is safe tosay that we were lost in less than five minutes. The multiplicity ofways and their labyrinthic character, was confusing to our rectangularconception of a town, and after a number of fruitless efforts we foundourselves back at the corner from which we had started. Butperseverance finally conquered, and we stood facing a doorplate whichread: "Wetherbee & Hart, Inventors and Solicitors of Patents." At thatmoment I was so oppressed by the thought of the pending interview that Iwished we were lost again.

  Walking up a narrow flight of stairs, we stood before a glass door witha blue paper shade screening the interior. There was no mistake; wewere there at last, for the firm's name was painted in sprawling lettersover the panel. The outward appearance was not indicative of wealth,and our hearts sank. There was an old-fashioned bell pull, in theabsence of electricity, and I rang. A boy came to the door with manybrass buttons sewed on to a dirty coat, and Torrence inquired if Mr.Wetherbee was in.

  "No, sir, but Mr. Hart is here," answered the boy.

  It was a disappointment, no letters having ever passed between mybrother and the gentleman named. We decided to go in, however, andhaving given our cards to the boy, passed in to an ante-room.

  The place was scant of furniture, and had a poverty-stricken look. Twolarge tables were covered with models, while the walls were whitewashedand hung with mechanical drawings. As there were no chairs, we stood,and as we had not finished our cigars, continued to smoke. The sound ofa deep, pompous voice proceeded from an inner chamber, presumably thesanctum of the proprietors. Presently the owner of the voice entered.He was a man with bushy eyebrows and a square chin.

  "Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked magnificently.

  We were so taken aback that neither of us knew exactly what he could do.I believe Torry thought of asking him if he could turn a handspring in ahalf-bushel measure, a feat he had once seen performed at a circus, butsomething in my manner must have stopped him. I waited for Torrence toanswer respectfully, the man evidently being accustomed to inspire notonly respect but awe. My brother, however, took his time, and after acouple of pulls on his cigar, he said, without moving from the placewhere he stood:

  "Mr. Hart, I presume!"

  "Yes, I am Mr. Hart. Do you wish to see me?"

  "Well, rather!" answered Torrence. "I've come all the way from Americato see you: or I should say your partner, Mr. Wetherbee."

  Hart coughed, and waved his hand a couple of times at an imaginary cloudof smoke.

  "I must ask you to stop smoking. It is contrary to our rules," heobserved querulously.

  "Certainly!" answered Torrence, throwing his cigar stump upon the tiledfloor and stepping on it. There was no receptacle provided for suchthings, and the floor looking as dirty as the street, I followed hisexample.

  Hart called for the buttons, and directed him to pick up the stumps andthrow them in the grate in the next room. The boy did as he was bid,and passed back into the sanctum.

  "It was a matter of business," I began, observing that things lookedsqually, and dreading the consequences of an unfavorable impression, atthe very beginning of our interview. "It was in relation to mybrother's air ship that we came, and----"

  "And what, pray, do you mean by an air ship?" demanded Hart, with a lookof supercilious superiority that was more exasperating than withering.

  "I supposed you must have heard of it," I ventured to observe.

  "Heard of an air ship! The idea is preposterous!" he exclaimed.

  "And yet," said Torrence, "I have one, which your partner, Mr.Wetherbee, is anxious to investigate, and perhaps to purchase, as I havebeen led to believe."

  "That is impossible!" cried Hart, holding his chin higher, and adding tohis general offensiveness. "Wetherbee is a man of sense--and--the thingis absurd!"

  He turned half around on his heel as if about to leave us, but mybrother's quiet, well-
possessed manner deterred him.

  "I beg your pardon. I have Mr. Wetherbee's letters, which aresufficient evidence. We need capital to put the scheme into practicalshape, and give it commercial value, and I have come to London to seekit."

  "The old story. The one desideratum with you fellows always. You havenothing to risk yourselves, and everything to gain. If you can deludesome fool into pushing your crazy schemes you are satisfied. But this,of all the absurdities, is the most preposterous--the most utter----"

  "And has Mr. Wetherbee never spoken to you of my invention?" demandedTorrence, growing pale.

  "Never! nor is he likely to do so. Mr. Wetherbee is a sensible andpractical man."

  "Perhaps it may have been his good sense and practicability that led himto take so much interest in my patent, and I can only express surprisethat he has never mentioned it to you. But I do not wish to intrude,Mr. Hart, and as you are doubtless a busy man, I am merely going to askyou to tell me where I can find your partner, my business being withhim."

  "Mr. Wetherbee has neither the time nor the inclination to talk aboutsuch balderdash as you propose, and as my time is valuable, I must bidyou good-morning."

  "Stop!" cried Torrence, as the man was about to go, "when I came here Iexpected to find a gentleman, but now acknowledge my mistake, and yet Iam going to honor you with a bet, if you have the nerve to take it,which I doubt; but I now and here offer to wager you a thousand poundsagainst a hundred that I will carry you to Paris in my air ship within amonth!"

  It was an absurd boast considering we had not fifty pounds in the world,and that the ship was not built, and that we depended on Wetherbee &Hart for the money to build it. But the speech had its effect, for Hartrelaxed a trifle from his haughty bearing, and said, with a mannerapproaching civility:

  "No, gentlemen, you will never carry me in your air ship anywhere, norwill I bet with you; but if you are determined to find Mr. Wetherbee,his address is The Bungalow, Gravesend. He seldom comes to this office,and you can reach him by either boat or train."

  Torrence took down the address and we bid Hart good-morning; thoroughlydisappointed, but rather pleased that the interview had not terminatedin a fight.

  In the street I observed that my brother looked more anxious than I hadyet seen him. What was to become of us if we failed to interestWetherbee?

 
Charles Willing Beale's Novels