An Extra Man
_By Jackson Gee_
"Harry turns into a thick smoke, and gets sucked into abig hole in the machine."]
[Sidenote: Sealed and vigilantly guarded was "Drayle's Invention,1932"----for it was a scientific achievement beyond which man darednot go.]
Rays of the August mid-day sun pouring through the museum's glass roofbeat upon the eight soldiers surrounding the central exhibit, whichfor thirty years has been under constant guard. Even the presentsweltering heat failed to lessen the men's careful observation of thevisitors who, from time to time, strolled listlessly about the room.
The object of all this solicitude scarcely seemed to require it. Agreat up-ended rectangle of polished steel some six feet square by tenor a dozen feet in height, standing in the center of Machinery Hall,it suggested nothing sinister or priceless. Two peculiarities,however, marked it as unusual--the concealment of its mechanism andthe brevity of its title. For while the remainder of the exhibitslocated around it varied in the simplicity or complexity of theirdesign, they were alike in the openness of their construction anddetailed explanation of plan and purpose. The great steel box,however, bore merely two words and a date: "Drayle's Invention,1932."
It was, nevertheless, toward this exhibit that a pleasant appearingwhite-haired old gentleman and a small boy were slowly walking when achange of guard occurred. The new men took their posts without wordswhile the relieved detail turned down a long corridor that for amoment echoed with the clatter of hobnailed boots on stone. Then allwas surprisingly still. Even the boy was impressed into reluctantsilence as he viewed the uniformed men, though not for long.
* * * * *
"What's that, what's that, what's that?" he demanded presently withshrill imperiousness. "Grandfather, what's that?" An excited armindicated the exhibit with its soldier guard.
"If you can keep still long enough," replied the old gentlemanpatiently, "I'll tell you."
And with due regard for rheumatic limbs he slowly settled himself on abench and folded his hands over the top of an ebony cane preparatoryto answering the youngster's question. His inquisitor, however, was,at the moment, being hauled from beneath a brass railing by thesergeant of the watch.
"You'll have to keep an eye on him, sir," said the man reproachfully."He was going to try his knife on the wood-work when I caught him."
"Thank you, Sergeant. I'll do my best--but the younger generation, youknow."
"Sit still, if possible!" he directed the squirming boy. "If not,we'll start home now."
The non-com took a new post within easy reaching distance of thedisturber and attempted to glare impressively.
"Go on, grandfather, tell me. What's D-r-a-y-l-e? What's in the box?Can't they open it? What are the soldiers for? Must they stay here?Why?"
"Drayle," said the old man, breaking through the barrage of questions,"was a close friend of mine a good many years ago."
"How many, grandfather? Fifty? As much as fifty? Did father know him?Is father fifty?"
"Forty; no; yes; no," said the harassed relative; and then withamazing ignorance inquired: "Do you really care to hear or do you justask questions to exercise your tongue?"
"I want to hear the story, grandpa. Tell me the story. Is it a nicestory? Has it got bears in it? Polar bears? I saw a polar bearyesterday. He was white. Are polar bears always white? Tell me thestory, grandpa."
* * * * *
The old man turned appealing eyes toward the sergeant. Tacitly asympathetic understanding was established. The warrior also was afather, and off the field of battle he had known defeat.
"Leave me handle him, sir," he suggested. "I've the like of him athome."
"I'd be very much indebted to you if you would."
Thus encouraged, the soldier produced from an inner pocket and offeredone of those childhood sweets known as an "all day sucker."
"See if you can choke yourself on that," he challenged.
The clamor ceased immediately.
"It always works, sir," explained the man of resource. "The missussays as how it'll ruin their indigestions, but I'm all for peace evenif I am in the army."
Now that his vocal organs were temporarily plugged, the child waved ademanding arm in the direction of the main exhibit to indicate adesire for the resumption of the narrative. But the ancient was notanxious to disturb so soon the benign and acceptable silence. In factit was not until he observed the sergeant's look of inquiry that hebegan once more.
"That box," he said slowly, "is both a monument and a milestone on theroad to mankind's progress in mechanical invention. It marks the pointbeyond which Drayle's contemporaries believed it was unsafe to go: forthey felt that inventions such as his would add to the complexitiesof life, and that if a halt were not made our own machines wouldultimately destroy us.
"I did not, still do not, believe it. And I know Drayle's spirit brokewhen the authorities sealed his last work in that box and released himupon parole to abandon his experiments."
As the speaker sighed in regretful reminiscence, the sergeant glancedat his men. Apparently all was well: the only visible menace lolledwithin easy arm's reach, swinging his short legs and sucking noisilyon his candy. Nevertheless the non-com shifted to a slightly bettertactical position as he awaited the continuance of the tale.
* * * * *
"Christopher Drayle," said the elderly gentleman, "was the greatestman I have ever known, as well as the finest. Forty years or more agowe were close friends. Our homes on Long Island adjoined and I handledmost of his legal affairs. He was about forty-five or six then, butalready famous.
"His rediscovery of the ancient process of tempering copper had madehim one of the wealthiest men in the land and enabled him to devotehis time to scientific research. Electricity and chemistry were hisspecialties, and at the period of which I speak he was deeplyengrossed in problems of radio transmission.
"But he had many interests and not infrequently visited our localcountry club for an afternoon of golf. Sometimes I played around thecourse with him and afterward, over a drink, we would talk. Hisfavorite topic was the contribution of science to human welfare. Andeven though I could not always follow him when he grew enthusiasticabout some new theory I was always puzzled.
"It was at such a time, when we had been discussing the new and firstsuccessful attempt to send moving pictures by radio, that I mentionedthe prophecy of Jackson Gee. Gee was the writer of fantastic,pseudo-scientific tales who had said: 'We shall soon be able toresolve human beings into their constituent elements, transmit them byradio to any desired point and reassemble them at the other end. Weshall do this by means of vibrations. We are just beginning to learnthat vibrations are the key to the fundamental process of all life.'
* * * * *
"I laughed as I quoted this to Drayle, for it seemed to me the ravingsof a lunatic. But Drayle did not smile. 'Jackson Gee,' he said, 'isnearer to the truth than he imagines. We already know the elementsthat make the human body, and we can put them together in their properproportions and arrangements: but we have not been able to introducethe vitalizing spark, the key vibrations to start it going. We canreproduce the human machine, but we can not make it move. We candestroy life in the laboratory, and we can prolong it, but so far wehave not been able to create it. Yet I tell you in all seriousnessthat that time will come; that time will come.'
"I was surprised at his earnestness and would have questioned himfurther. But a boy appeared just then with a message that Drayle waswanted at the telephone.
"Something important, sir," he said. Drayle went off to answer thesummons and later he sent word that he had been called away and wouldnot be able to return.
"It was the last I heard from Drayle for months. He shut himself inhis laboratory and saw no one but his assistants, Ward of Boston, andBuchannon of Washington. He even slept in the workshop and had hisfood sent in.
> "Ordinarily I would not have been excluded, for I had his confidenceto an unusual degree and I had often watched him work. I admired thedeft movements of his hands. He had the certain touch and style of amaster. But during that period he admitted only his aids.
* * * * *
"Consequently I felt little hope of reaching him one morning when itwas necessary to have his signature to some legal documents. Yet theurgency of the case led me to go to his home on the chance that Imight be able to get him long enough for the business that concernedus. Luck was with me, for he sent out word that he would see me in afew minutes. I remember seating myself in the office that opened offhis laboratory and wondering what was beyond the door that separatedus. I had witnessed some incredible performances in the adjoiningroom.
"At last Drayle came in. He looked worried and careworn. There werenew lines in his face and blue half-circles of fatigue beneath hiseyes. It was evident that it was long since he had slept. Heapologized for having kept me waiting and then, without examining thepapers I offered, he signed his name nervously in the proper spaces.When I gathered the sheets together he turned abruptly toward thelaboratory, but at the door he paused and smiled.
"'Give my respects to Jackson Gee,' he said."
* * * * *
"Who's Jackson Gee? Does father know him? Has he any polar bears?Aren't you going to tell me about that?"
The tidal wave of questions almost overwhelmed the historian and hisauditor. But the military, fortunately, was equal to the emergency.With a tactical turn of his hand he thrust the remnant of the lollypopbetween the chattering jaws and spoke with sharp rapidity.
"Listen," he commanded, "that there, what you got, is a magic candy,and if you go on exposing it to the air after it is once in your mouthit's likely to disappear, just like that." And the speed of thetranslation was illustrated by a smart snapping of the fingers.
Doubt shone in the juvenile terror's eyes and the earlier generationswaited fearfully while skepticism and greed waged their recurrentconflict. For a time it seemed as if the veteran had blundered; butfinally greed triumphed and a temporary peace ensued.
"Where was I?" inquired the interrupted narrator when the issue ofbattle was settled.
"You was talking about Jackson Gee," answered the guardsman in acautiously low tone.
"So I was, so I was," the old gentleman agreed somewhat vaguely,nodding his head. He gazed at the sergeant with mingled awe andadmiration. "I suppose it's quite useless to mention it," he saidrather wistfully, "but if you ever get out of the army and should wanta job.... You could name your own salary, you know?" The questionended on an appealing note.
Evidently the soldier understood the digression, for he replied in atone that would brook no dispute. "No, sir, I couldn't consider it."
"I was afraid so," said the other regretfully, and added, withapparent irrelevance, "I have to live with him, you see."
"Tough luck," commiserated the listener.
Reluctantly summoning his thoughts from the pleasant contemplation ofwhat had seemed to offer a new era of peace, the bard turned to hisstory.
* * * * *
"A few hours later," he continued, "I had a telephone call fromDrayle's wife, and I realized from the fright in her voice thatsomething dreadful had happened. She asked me to come to the house atonce. Chris had been hurt. But she disconnected before I could ask fordetails. I started immediately and I wondered as I drove what disasterhad overtaken him. Anything, it seemed to me, might have befallen inthat room of miracles. But I was not prepared to find that Drayle hadbeen shot and wounded.
"The police were before me and already questioning the assailant, Mrs.Farrel, a fiery tempered young Irish-woman. When I entered the roomshe was repeating half-hysterically her explanation that Drayle hadkilled her husband in the laboratory that morning.
"'Right before my eyes, I seen it,' she shouted. 'Harry was standingon a sort of platform looking at a big machine like, and so help me hedidn't have a stitch of clothes on, and I started to say something,but all at once there came a terrible sort of screech and a flash likelightnin' kinda, in front of him. Then Harry turns into a sort ofthick smoke and I can see right through him like he was a ghost; andthen the smoke gets sucked into a big hole in the machine and I knowHarry's dead. And here's this man what done it, just a standin' there,grinnin' horrid. So something comes over me all at once and I pointsHarry's gun at him and pulls the trigger!'
"Even before the woman had finished I recalled what I seen oneafternoon in Drayle's laboratory many months before. I had been therefor some time watching him when he placed a small tumbler on a worktable and asked me if I had ever seen glass shattered by thevibrations of a violin. I told him that I had, but he went through thedemonstration as if to satisfy himself. Of course when he drew a bowacross the instrument's strings and produced the proper pitch thegoblet cracked into pieces exactly as might have been expected. And Iwondered why Drayle concerned himself with so childish an experimentbefore I noticed that he appeared to have forgotten me completely.
* * * * *
"I endeavored then not to disturb him, and I remember trying to drawmyself out of his way and feeling that something momentous was aboutto take place. Yet actually I believe it would have required aconsiderable commotion to have distracted his attention, for hisability to concentrate was one of the characteristics of his genius.
"I saw him place another glass on the table and I noticed then thatit stood directly in front of a complicated mechanism. At first thisgave out a low humming sound, but it soon rose to an unearthly whiningshriek. I shrank from it involuntarily and a second later I was amazedat the sight of the glass, seemingly reduced to a thin vapor, beingdrawn into a funnel-like opening near the top of the device. I was toostartled to speak and could only watch as Drayle started thecontrivance again. Once more its noise cut through me with physicalpain. I cried out. But my voice was overwhelmed by the terrific din ofthe mysterious machine.
"Then Drayle strode down the long room to another intricate mass ofwire coils and plates and lamps. And I saw a dim glow appear in two ofthe bulbs and heard a noise like the crackling of paper. Drayle madesome adjustments, and presently I observed a peculiar shimmering ofthe air above a horizontal metal grid. It reminded me of heat wavesrising from a summer street, until I saw the vibrations were taking adefinite pattern; and that the pattern was that of the glass I hadseen dissolved into air. At first the image made me think of a pictureformed by a series of horizontal lines close together but broken atvarious points in such fashion as to create the appearance of a lineby the very continuity of the fractures. But as I watched, the plasmabecame substance. The air ceased to quiver and I was appalled to seeDrayle pick up the tumbler and carry it to a scale on which he weighedit with infinite exactness. If he had approached me with it at thatmoment I would have fled in terror.
* * * * *
"Next, Drayle filled the goblet with some liquid which immediatelyafterward he measured in a beaker. The result seemed to please him,for he smiled happily. At the same instant he became aware of mypresence. He looked surprised and then a trifle disconcerted. I couldsee that he was embarrassed by the knowledge that I had witnessed somuch, and after a second or two he asked my silence. I agreed atonce, not only because he requested it but because I couldn't believethe evidence myself. He let me out then and locked the door.
"It was this recollection that made me credit the woman's story. But Iwas sick with dread, for in spite of my faith in Drayle's genius Ifeared he had gone mad.
"Mrs. Drayle had listened to Mrs. Farrel's account calmly enough, butI could see the fear in her eyes when she signaled a wish to speak tome alone. I followed her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Farrelwith the two policemen and the doctor, who was trying to quiet her.
"As soon as the door closed after us Mrs. Drayle seized my hands.
/> "'Tim,' she whispered, 'I'm horribly afraid that what the woman saysis true. Chris has told me of some wonderful things he was planning todo, but I never expected he would experiment on human beings. Can theysend him to prison?'
"Of course I said what I could to comfort her and tried to make myvoice sound convincing. At the time the legal aspect of the matter didnot worry me so much as the fear that the attack on Drayle might provefatal. For even if it should develop that he was not dangerously hurt,I imagined that the interruption of the experiment at a criticalmoment might easily have ruined whatever slim chance there had been ofsuccess. For us the nerve-wracking part was that we could do nothinguntil the surgeon who was attending Drayle could tell us how badly hewas injured.
* * * * *
"At last word came that the bullet had only grazed Drayle's head andstunned him, but that he might remain unconscious for some time. Mrs.Drayle went in and sat at her husband's side, while I returned to thelaboratory and found the police greatly bewildered as to whether theyought to arrest Drayle.
"They had discovered in a closet an outfit of men's clothing that Mrs.Farrel identified as her husband's, and, although they saw no othertrace of the missing man, they had a desire to lock up somebody as anevidence of their activity. It took considerable persuasion to prevailupon them to withhold their hands. There was no such difficulty aboutrestraining them in the laboratory. They were afraid to touch anyapparatus, and they gave the invention a ludicrously wide berth.
"I never knew exactly how long it was that I paced about the lowerfloor of Drayle's home before the doctor summoned me and announcedthat the patient wanted me, but that I must be careful not to excitehim. I have often wondered how many physicians would have to abandontheir profession if they were deprived of that phrase. 'You must notexcite the patient.'
"Drayle was already excited when I entered. In fact, he was furious atthe doctor's efforts to restrain him. But I realized that my fear forhis reason was groundless. His remarks were lucid and forceful as heraged at the interference with his work. As soon as he saw me heappealed for assistance.
"'Make them let me alone. Tim,' he begged, as his wife and the doctor,partly by force and partly by persuasion, endeavored to hold him inbed. 'I must get back to the laboratory. That woman believes that I'vekilled her husband, and my assistant will think that we've failed.'
* * * * *
"I was about to argue with him when suddenly he managed to thrust thedoctor aside and start toward the door. His seriousness impressed meso that I gave him a supporting arm and together we headed down thehall, with Mrs. Drayle and the doctor following anxiously in the rear.The laboratory was deserted and locked when we arrived. The policeevidently felt it was too uncanny an atmosphere for a prolonged wait.Drayle opened the door, went directly to his machine, and examined itminutely.
"'Thank the Lord that woman hit only me!' he said, and sank into achair. Then he asked for some brandy. Mrs. Drayle rushed off andreappeared in a minute with a decanter and glass. Drayle helpedhimself to a swallow that brought color to his cheeks and new strengthto his limbs. Immediately after he turned again to the machine. Idragged up a chair, assisted him into it, and seated myself close by.
"I knew little enough about mechanics, but I was fascinated by thenumerous gauges that faced me on the gleaming instrument board. Therewere dials with needlelike hands that registered various numbers;spots of color appeared in narrow slots close to a solar spectrum: astream of graph-paper tape flowed slowly beneath a tracing-pen pointand carried away a jiggly thin line of purple ink. In a moment Draylewas oblivious of everything but his records. I watched him copy theindicated figures, surround them with formulas, and solve mysteriousproblems with a slide-rule.
"His calculations covered a large sheet before he had finished. Atlast he underscored three intricate combinations of letters andfigures and carried the answers to his private radio apparatus. Thisoperated on a wave length far outside the range of all others andinsured him against interference. With it he was able to speak at anytime with his assistants in Washington or Boston or with both at once.He threw the switch that sent his call into the air. An answer cameinstantly, and Drayle begin to talk to his distant lieutenants.
* * * * *
"'We've been interrupted, gentlemen,' he said, 'but I think we maycontinue now. We'll reassemble in the Boston laboratory. Have youarranged the elements? The coefficients are....' And he gave asuccession of decimals.
"A voice replied that all was ready. Drayle said 'Excellent,' wentback to his invention and twisted a black knob on the board beforehim.
"With this trifling movement all hell seemed to crash about us. Theghastly cacophony that I had experienced in the same room some monthspreviously was as nothing. These stupendous waves of sound pounded usuntil it seemed as if we must disintegrate beneath them. Wails andscreams engulfed us. Mrs. Drayle dropped to her knees beside herhusband. The doctor seized my arm and I saw the knuckles of his handturn white with the pressure of his grip, yet I felt nothing but theawful vibrations that drummed like riveting machines upon and throughmy nerves and body. It was not an attack upon the ears alone; itcrashed upon the heart, beat upon the chest so that breathing seemedimpossible. My brain throbbed under the terrific pulsations. For awhile I imagined the human system could not endure the ordeal and thatall of us must be annihilated.
"Except for his slow turning of the dials Drayle was motionless beforethe machine. Below the bandage about his forehead I could see hisfeatures drawn with anxiety. He had wagered a human life to test histheory and I think the enormity of it had not struck him until thatmoment.
"What I knew and hoped enabled me to imagine what was taking place inthe Boston laboratory. I seemed to see man's elementary dust andvapors whirled from great containers upward into a stratum ofshimmering air and gradually assume the outlines of a human form thatbecame first opaque, then solid, and then a sentient being. At thesame instant I was conscious that the appalling pandemonium had ceasedand that the voice of Drayle's Boston assistant was on the radio.
* * * * *
"'Congratulations, Chief! His reassemblage is perfect. There's not aflaw anywhere.' "'Splendid,' Drayle answered. 'Bring him here byplane right away; his wife is worried about him.'
"Then Drayle turned to me.
"'You see,' he said, 'Jackson Gee was right. We have resolved man intohis constituent elements, transmitted his key vibrations by radio, andreassembled him from a supply of identical elements at the other end.And now, if you will assure that woman that her husband is safe, Iwill get some sleep. You will have the proof before you in less thanthree hours.'
"I can't vouch for the doctor's feelings, but as Drayle left us I wassatisfied that everything was as it should be, and that I had justwitnessed the greatest scientific achievement of all time. I did notforesee, nor did Drayle, the results of an error or deliberatedisobedience on the part of one of his assistants.
"We waited, the doctor and I, for the arrival of the man who, we wereconvinced, had been transported some three hundred miles in a mannerthat defied belief. The evidence would come, Drayle had said, in a fewhours. Long before they had elapsed we were starting at the sound ofevery passing motor, for we knew that a plane must land some distancefrom the house and that the travelers would make the last mile or soby car.
"Mrs. Drayle endeavored to convince the imagined widow that herhusband was safe and was returning speedily. Later she rejoined us,full of questions that we answered in a comforting blind faith. Thetime limit was drawing to a close when the sound of an automobile hornwas quickly followed by a sharp knock on the laboratory door. At asign from Mrs. Drayle one of the policemen opened it and we saw twomen before us. One, a scholarly appearing, bespectacled youth, Irecognized as Drayle's Boston assistant, Ward; the other, a ratherburly individual, was a stranger to me. But there was no doubt he wasthe man we awaited so eagerly, for Mr
s. Farrel screamed 'Harry!Harry!' and sped across the room towards him.
* * * * *
"At first she ran her fingers rather timidly over his face, and thenpinched his huge shoulders, as if to assure herself of his reality.The sense of touch must have satisfied her, for abruptly she kissedhim, flung her arms about him, clung to him, and crooned littleendearments. The big man, in turn, patted her cheeks awkwardly andmumbled in a convincingly natural voice, ''Sall right, Mary, old kid!There ain't nothin' to it. Yeah! Sure it's me!'
"Then I was conscious of Drayle's presence. A brown silk dressing gownfell shapelessly about his spare frame and smoke from his cigaretterose in a quivering blue-white stream. Ward spied him at the samemoment and stepped forward with quick outstretched hands. I rememberthe flame of adoring zeal in the youngster's eyes as he tried tospeak. At length he managed to stammer some congratulatory phraseswhile Drayle clapped him affectionately on the back.
"Then Drayle turned to Farrel to ask him how he enjoyed the trip.Farrel grinned and said, 'Fine! It was like a dream, sir! First I'm inone place and then I'm in another and I don't know nothing about how Igot there. But I could do with a drink, sir. I ain't used to themairyplanes much.'
"Drayle accepted the hint and suggested that we all celebrate. He gaveinstructions over a desk telephone and almost immediately a manentered with a small service wagon containing a wide assortment ofliquors and glasses. When we had all been served, Ward asked somewhathesitantly if he might propose a toast. 'To Dr. Drayle, the greatestscientist of all time!'
* * * * *
"We were of course, already somewhat drunk with excitement as welifted our glasses. But Drayle would not have it.
"'Let me amend that,' he said. 'Let us drink to the future ofscience.'
"'Sure!' said Farrel, very promptly. I think he was somewhat uncertainabout 'toast,' but he clung hopefully to the word 'drink.'
"We had raised our glasses again when Drayle, who was facing the door,dropped his. It struck the floor with a little crash and the liquorspattered my ankles. Drayle whispered 'Great God!' I saw in thedoorway another Farrel. He was grimy, disheveled, his clothing wastorn, and his expression ugly; but his identity with 'Harry' wasunescapable. For an instant I suspected Drayle of trickery, ofperpetrating some fiendishly elaborate hoax. And then I heard Mrs.Farrel scream, heard the newcomer cry, 'Mary,' and saw two men staringat each other in bewilderment.
"The explanation burst upon me with a horrible suddenness. Farrel hadbeen reconstructed in each of Drayle's distant laboratories, and therestood before us two identities each equally authentic, each the legalhusband of the woman who, a few hours previously, had imagined herselfa widow. The situation was fantastic, nightmarish, unbelievable andundeniable. My head reeled with the fearful possibilities.
"Drayle was the first to recover his poise. He opened a door leadinginto an adjoining room and motioned for us all to enter. That is, allbut the police. He left them wisely with their liquor. 'Finish it,' headvised them. 'You see no one has been killed.'
* * * * *
"They were not quite satisfied, but neither were they certain whatthey ought to do, and for once displayed common sense by doingnothing. When the door closed after us I saw that Buchannon, theWashington laboratory assistant, was with us. He must have arrivedwith the second Farrel, although I had not observed him during theconfusion attending the former's unexpected appearance. But Drayle hadnoted him and now seized his shoulders. 'Explain!' he demanded.
"Buchannon's face went white and he shrank under the clutch ofDrayle's fingers. Beyond them I saw the two twinlike men standingbeside Mrs. Farrel, surveying each other with incredulous recognitionand distaste.
"'Explain!' roared Drayle, and tightened his grasp.
"'I thought you said Washington, Chief.' His voice was not convincing.I didn't believe him, nor did Drayle.
"'You lie!' he raged, and floored the man with his fist.
"In a way I couldn't help feeling sorry for the chap. It must havebeen a frightful temptation to participate in the experiment and Isuppose he had not forseen the consequences. But I began to have aglimmering of the magnificent possibilities of the invention forpurposes far beyond Drayle's intent. For, I asked myself, why, if sucha machine could produce two human identities, why not a score, ahundred, a thousand? The best of the race could be multipliedindefinitely and man could make man at last, literally out of the dustof the earth. The virtue of instantaneous transmission which had beenDrayle's aim sank into insignificance beside it. I fancied a race ofsupermen thus created. And I still believe, Sergeant, that the chancefor the world's greatest happiness is sealed within that box youguard. But its first fruits were tragic."
The historian shifted his position on the bench so as to escape thesun that was now reflected dazzlingly by the polished steel casket.
* * * * *
"Drayle did not glance again at his disobedient lieutenant. He wasconcerned with the problem of the extra man, or, I should say, anextra man, for both were equal. Never before in the history of theworld had two men been absolutely identical. They were, of course, onein thought, possessions and rights, physical attributes andappearance. Mrs. Farrel, as they were beginning to realize, was thewife of both. And I have an unworthy suspicion that the red-headedyoung woman, after she recovered from the shock, was not entirelydispleased. The two men, however, finding that each had an arm abouther waist, were regarding each other in a way that foretold trouble.Both spoke at the same time and in the same words.
"'Take your hands off my wife!'
"And I think they would have attacked each other then if Drayle hadn'tintervened. He said, 'Sit down! All of you!' in so peremptory a voicethat we obeyed him.
"'Now,' he went on, 'pay attention to me. I think you realize thesituation. The question is, what we shall do about it?' He pointed anaccusing finger at the Farrel from Washington. 'You were notauthorized to exist; properly we should retransmit you, and withoutreassembling you would simply cease to be.'
"The man addressed looked terrified. 'It would be murder!' heprotested.
"'Would it?' Drayle inquired of me.
"I told him that it could not be proved inasmuch as there would be no_corpus delicti_ and hence nothing on which to base a charge.
"But the Washington Farrel seemed to have more than an academicinterest in the question and grew obstinate.
"'Nothing doing!' he announced emphatically. 'Here I am and here Istay. I started from this place this morning and now I'm back, and asfor that big ape over there I don't know nothing about him--excepthe'll be dead damn soon if he don't keep away from my wife.'
* * * * *
"The other Drayle-made man leaped up at this, and again I expectedviolence. But Buchannon flung himself between, and they subsided,muttering.
"'Very well, then,' Drayle continued, when the room was quiet, 'hereis another solution. We can, as you realize, duplicate Mrs. Farrel,and I will double your present possessions.'
"This time it was Mrs. Farrel who was dissatisfied. 'You ain'ttalking to me,' she informed Drayle. 'Me stand naked in front of allthem lamps and get turned into smoke? Not me!' A smile spread over herface and her eyes twinkled with deviltry. 'I didn't never think I'd bein one of them triangles like in the movies, and with my own husbands,but seein' I am, I'm all for keeping them both. Then I might knowwhere one of them was some of the time.'
"But neither of the men took to this idea and the problem appearedincreasingly complex. I proposed that the survivor be determined bylot, but this suggestion won no support from anyone. Again the two menspoke at the same instant and in the same words. It was like acarefully rehearsed chorus. 'I know my rights, and I ain't going to begypped out of them!'
"It was at this point that Drayle attempted bribery. He offered fiftythousand dollars to the man who would abandon Mrs. Farrel. But thisscheme fell through bec
ause both men sought the opportunity and Mrs.Farrel objected volubly.
"So in the end Drayle promised each of them the same amount as a pricefor silence and left the matter of their relationships to their ownsettlement.
* * * * *
"I was skeptical of the success of the plan but could offer nothingbetter. So I drew up a release as legally binding as I knew how tomake it in a case without precedent. I remember thinking that if thematter ever came into court the judge would be as much at a loss as Iwas.
"Our troubles, though, didn't spring from that source. Each of thethree parties accepted the arrangement eagerly and Drayle dismissedthem with a hand-shake, a wish for luck and a check for fifty thousanddollars each. It's very nice to be wealthy, you know.
"Afterward, we went out and paid off the police. Perhaps that'sstating it too bluntly. I mean that Drayle thanked them for theirzealous attention to his interests, regretted that they had beenunnecessarily inconvenienced and treated that they would not takeamiss a small token of his appreciation of their devotion to duty.Then he shook hands with them both and I believe I saw a yellow billtransferred on each occasion. At any rate the officers saluted smartlyand left.
"Of course I was impatient to question Drayle, but I could see that hewas desperately fatigued. So I departed.
"Next morning I found my worst fears exceeded by the events of thenight. The three Farrels who had left us in apparently amiable spiritshad proceeded to the home of Mrs. and the original Mr. Farrel. Therethe argument of who was to leave had been resumed. Both men were, ofcourse, of the same mind. Whether both desired to stay or flee I wouldnot presume to say. But an acrimonious dispute led to physicalhostilities, and while Mrs. Farrel, according to accounts, cheeredthem on, they literally fought to the death. Being equally capable,there was naturally, barring interruption, no other possible outcome.I can well believe they employed the same tactics, swung the sameblows, and died at the same instant.
"Mrs. Farrel, after carefully retrieving both of her husbands' checks,told a great deal of the story. As might be expected, nobody believedthe yarn except our profound federal law makers. They welcomed anopportunity to investigate an outsider for a change and had all of usbefore a committee.
"Finally the Congress of these United States of America, plus thesagacious Supreme Court, decided that my client wasn't guilty ofanything, but that he mustn't do it again. At least that was the gistof it. I recollect that I offered a defense of psycopathicneuroticism.
"As a result of the _obiter dictum_ and a resolution by both HousesAssembled Drayle's invention was sealed, dated and placed under guard.That's its history, Sergeant."
* * * * *
The white-haired old gentleman picked up the high silk hat that addeda final touch of distinction to his tall figure, and looked about himas if trying to recall something. At last the idea came.
"By the way," he inquired suddenly, "didn't I have an extraordinarilyobnoxious grandson with me when I came?"
The attentive auditor was vastly startled. He surveyed the great hallrapidly, but reflected before he answered.
"No, sir--I mean he ain't no more'n average! But I reckon we'd betterfind him, anyhow."
His glance had satisfied the sergeant that at least the object of hischarge was safe and his men still vigilant. "I'll be back in aminute," he informed them. "Don't let nothin' happen."
"Bring us something more'n a breath," pleaded the corporal,disrespectfully.
The sergeant had already set off at a brisk pace with the storyteller. For several minutes as they rushed from room to room the huntwas unrewarded.
"I think, sir," said the sergeant, "we'd better look in the naturalhistory division. There is stuffed animals in there that the kids isfond of."
"You're probably right," the patriarch gasped as he struggled tomaintain the gait set by the younger man. "I might have known hedidn't really want to hear the story."
"They never do," answered the other over his shoulder. "I'll betthat's him down there on the next floor."
* * * * *
The two searchers had emerged upon a wide gallery that commanded aclear view of the main entrance where various specimens of Americanfauna were mounted in intriguing replicas of their native habitat.
The guard pointed an accusing finger at one of these groups and sprangtoward the stairs.
The old gentleman's breath and strength were gone. He could only gazein the direction that had been indicated by the madly running guard;but he had no doubts. A small boy was certainly digging vigorously atthe head of a specimen of _Ursus Polaris_ that the curator hadrepresented in the dramatic pose of killing a seal. A protesting wailarose from below as the young naturalist was withdrawn from his fieldby a capable hand on the slack of his trousers. And presently,chagrined with failure, the culprit was before his grandsire.
"Gee!" he complained, "I was only looking at the polar bear. Are polarbears always white? Are--"
"You'd better take him away, sir," interrupted the sergeant. "He wastrying to pry out one of the bear's eyes with the stick of thelollypop I give him. Take him."
The old gentleman extended both hands. His left found a grip in hisgrandson's coat collar; his right, partly concealing a governmentengraving, met the guard's with a clasp of gratitude.
"Sergeant," he remarked in a voice tense with feeling, "a half-hourago I expressed some ridiculous regrets that Drayle's invention hadbeen kept from the world. Now I realize its horrid menace. I shudderto think it might have been responsible for two like him!"
The object of disapproval was shaken indicatively.
"Guard the secret well, Sergeant! Guard it well! The world's peacedepends upon you!" The old gentleman's words trembled with conviction.
Then alternately shaking his head and his grandson he marched down thehallway, ebony cane tapping angrily upon the stone.
As the exhausted but happy warrior retraced his steps a high-pitchedvoice floated after him.
"Grandpa, are polar bears _always_ white?"
* * * * *
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