Astounding Stories of Super-Science, November, 1930 by Various
The Destroyer
_By William Merriam Rouse_
"The connection is made," murmured Von Stein.]
[Sidenote: Slowly, insidiously, there stole over Allen Parkersomething uncanny. He could no longer control his hands--even hisbrain!]
The pencil in the hand of Allen Parker refused to obey his will. Astrange unseen force pushed his will aside and took possession of thepencil point so that what he drew was not his own. It was the samewhen he turned from drawing board to typewriter. The sentences werenot of his framing; the ideas were utterly foreign to him. This wasthe first hint he received of the fate that was drawing in like nightupon him and his beautiful wife.
Parker, a young writer of growing reputation who illustrated his ownwork, was making a series of pencil sketches for a romance partlyfinished. The story was as joyous and elusive as sunlight, and untilto-day his sketches had held the same quality. Now he could not tapthe reservoir from which he had taken the wind-blown hair and smilingeyes of Madelon, his heroine.
When he drew or wrote he seemed to be submerged in the dark waters ofa measureless evil pit. The face that mocked him from the paper wasstamped with a world-old knowledge of forbidden things.
Parker dropped his pencil and leaned back, tortured. He and his wife,Betty, had taken this house in Pine Hills, a small and extremelyquiet suburban village, solely for the purpose of concentration on thebook which was to be the most important work he had done. He went tothe door of the room that he used for a studio and called:
"Betty! Can you come here a moment, please?"
* * * * *
There was a patter of running feet on the stairs and then a girl oftwenty, or thereabout, came into the room. Any man would have said shewas a blessing. Her hair "was yellow like ripe corn," and her vividblue eyes held depth and character and charm.
"Look!" exclaimed Parker. "What do you think of this stuff?"
For a moment there was silence. Then Allen Parker saw something he hadnever before seen in his wife's face for him or his work--a look ofcomplete disgust.
"I wouldn't have believed you capable of doing anything so ... sohorrid!" she said coldly. "How could you?"
"I don't know!" His arms, which had been ready to take her to him forcomfort, dropped. "The work has been ... difficult, lately. As thoughsomething were pulling at my mind. But not like this! It isn't _me_!"
"It must be you, since it came out of you!" She turned away and movedrestlessly to one of the windows.
"Through me!" muttered Parker. "Ideas _come_!"
"You'll have to do something!"
"But what? I don't know what to do!"
"Why not go to see that new doctor?" asked Betty, over her shoulder."Dr. Friedrich von Stein?"
"Von Stein?" repeated Parker, vaguely. "Don't know him. Anyhow, Idon't need a doctor. What in the world made you think of that?"
* * * * *
"Nothing, except that I can see his house from here. He's taken whatthey call 'the old Reynolds place.' You know--opposite the church. Welooked at it and thought it was too large for us. He's made a lot ofalterations."
"Oh, yes!" Parker had placed the newcomer, more recent than himself."I had an idea that he was a doctor of philosophy, not medicine."
"He has half a dozen degrees, they say. Certainly he's a stunninglooking man. I saw him on the street."
"Maybe he doesn't practice." The artist was gazing, baffled and sickat heart, upon what he had wrought. "And what could he do, unless it'smy liver?"
"He might be a psycho-analyst, or something like that," she replied,slowly.
"But why the wild interest in this particular doctor?" Parker rousedhimself and looked at her. He felt irritable, and was ashamed of it.
"Only for your work," said Betty. A faint pink touched her cheeks.
Allen Parker had a sudden feeling of certainty that his wife was lyingto him. To one who knew the Parkers it would have been equallyimpossible to think of Betty as lying, or of her husband as believingsuch a thing. Parker was outraged by his own suspicion. He sprang upand began to pace the floor.
"All right, then!" he exploded. "My work is going to the dogs! Why,there's an appointment with Cartwright to-morrow to show him thesesketches, and the last few chapters I've done! We'll go now! If thisman can't do anything for me I'll try somebody else!"
* * * * *
In ten minutes they were walking up the quiet street toward thepresent home of Dr. Friedrich von Stein. Despite his self-absorptionParker could not help noticing that his wife had never looked moreattractive than she did at this moment. Her color had deepened, littlewisps of hair curled against her cheeks, and there was a sparkle inher eyes which he knew came only on very particular occasions.
Even from the outside it was apparent that many strange things hadbeen done to the staid and dignified house of Reynolds. A mass ofaerials hung above the roof. Some new windows had been cut at thesecond floor and filled with glass of a peculiar reddish-purple tinge.A residence had been turned into a laboratory, in sharp contrast tothe charming houses up and down the street and the church of graystone that stood opposite.
Beside the door, at the main entrance, a modest plate bore the legend:"Dr. Friedrich von Stein." Parker pressed the bell. Then he squaredhis broad shoulders and waited: a very miserable, very likeable youngman, with a finely shaped head and a good set of muscles under hiswell cut clothes. He had brought his sketches, but he wasuncomfortable with the portfolio under his arm. It seemed tocontaminate him.
* * * * *
The door opened to reveal a blocky figure of a man in a workman'sblouse and overalls. The fellow was pale of eye, towheaded; heappeared to be good natured but of little intelligence. The onlyremarkable thing about him was a livid welt that ran across one cheek,from nose to ear. Beside him a glossy-coated dachshund waggedfuriously, after having barked once as a matter of duty.
"May we see Dr. von Stein?" asked Parker. "If he is in?"
"I will ask the Herr Doktor if he iss in," replied the man, stiffly.
"_Dummkopf!_" roared a voice from inside the house. An instant laterman and dog shrank back along the hall and there appeared in theirplace one of the most striking personalities Allen Parker had everseen.
Dr. Friedrich von Stein was inches more than six feet tall and hestood perfectly erect, with the unmistakable carriage of a welldrilled soldier. He was big boned, but lean, and every movement wasmade with military precision. More than any other feature his eyesimpressed Parker: they were steady, penetrating, and absolutely black.But for a thread of gray here and there his well-kept beard and hairwere black. He might have been any age from forty to sixty, sodeceptive was his appearance.
"Come in, if you please," he said, before Parker could speak. VonStein's voice was rich and deep, but with a metallic quality whichsomehow corresponded with his mechanical smile. Except for theguttural r's there was hardly a hint of the foreigner in his speech."It is Mr. and Mrs. Parker, I believe? I am Dr. von Stein."
* * * * *
He stood aside for them to pass into the hallway, and while theymurmured their thanks he shot a volley of German at the man, whom hecalled Heinrich. The frightened servant vanished; and the Parkers weretaken into a living room furnished carelessly, but in good enoughtaste. Betty took her place on a couch, to which the doctor led herwith a bow. Parker sank into an overstuffed chair not far from awindow.
"I learned your names because of the beauty of madame," said VonStein, as he stood looming above the mantel. Again he bowed. "Onecould not see her without wishing to know how such a charming womanwas called. You are my neighbors from down the street, I believe."
"Yes," replied Allen. He wanted to be agreeable, but found itdifficult. "And I think Mrs. Parker has developed a great admirationfor you. She persuaded me to come here to-day. Are you, by chance, apsycho-analyst? I don't even know that you are
"I know a very great deal about the human mind," interrupted Dr. vonStein calmly. "I know a great deal about many things. I am not goingto practice medicine here in Pine Hills because I have research workto do, but I will help you if I can. What is your trouble?"
* * * * *
The question brought back to Parker the mood of half an hour ago.Almost savagely he snapped the portfolio open and spread out a few ofhis recent drawings, with some of the earlier ones for comparison.
"Look!" he cried. "These vicious things are what I am doing now! Ican't help myself! The pencil does not obey me! Apparently I have noemotional control. It's as though my normal ideas were shoulderedaside, like people in a crowd. And my writing to-day was as bad asthese illustrations. I'm doing a book. Consider these thingscarefully, Doctor. They are not obscene, except by inference. Theycan't be censored. The book would go through the mails. Yet they aredeadly! Look at my heroine in these two pictures. In one she islike--like violets! In the other she looks capable of any crime! Whatis she? A vampire, if there is such a thing? A witch? I can almostbelieve in demonology since I made these last drawings!"
Parker, in spite of his excitement, tried to read the face of Dr.Friedrich von Stein. He found nothing but the automatic smile uponthat mask. Yet it seemed to the artist that this time there was a hintof real pleasure in the curve of the lips. Was it possible that anyonecould like those drawings? Parker began to think that he was goinginsane.
"This is most unfortunate for you," rumbled the doctor. "I understand.But I trust that the condition can be remedied, if it persists. You,Mr. Parker, and you, Madame, do you understand something of physics,of psychology, of metaphysics?"
"I fear that I'm rather ignorant," answered Betty. "Certainly I am incomparison with a man of your attainments."
* * * * *
Dr. von Stein bowed. He turned his black eyes upon Parker.
"And you, sir? I must adjust my explanation to--what shall I say? Toyour knowledge of the higher reaches of scientific thought?"
"Why, I majored in philosophy in college," said Parker, hesitatingly."But that's quite a time ago, Herr Doktor. Of course I've tried tokeep up with the conclusions of science. But a writer or a painterdoesn't have any too much opportunity. He has his own problems toconcern him."
"Yes, indeed!" Dr. von Stein was thoughtful. "So, and especially forthe benefit of madame, I shall speak in terms of the concrete."
"Please consider me stupid!" begged Betty. "But I want to understand!"
"Certainly, except that you are not stupid, Madame. I will proceed.Both of you, I assume, know something of the radio? Very good! Youknow that an etheric wave transmits the message, and that it isreceived and amplified so that it is within the range of the humanear. These waves were there when paleolithic man hunted his meat witha stone-tipped club. To use them it was necessary to invent themicrophone, and a receiving instrument.
"What I have said you already know. But here is what may startle you.Human thought is an etheric wave of the same essential nature as theradio wave. They are both electrical currents external to man.Thoughts sweep across the human mind as sound currents sweep acrossthe aerials of a radio--"
"I told you!" Allen Parker turned a triumphant face to his wife."Pardon me, Herr Doktor! I have tried to convince Mrs. Parker that myidea came from outside!"
* * * * *
"Exactly!" Dr. von Stein took no offense. "And a difference betweenthe mind and the radio set is that with the radio you tune in uponwhatever you choose, and when you choose. The mind is not under suchcontrol, although it should be. It receives that to which it happensto be open. Or that thought which has been intensified andstrengthened by having been received and entertained by other minds.In India they say: 'Five thousand died of the plague and fiftythousand died of fear.' Do you both follow me?"
It was unnecessary to ask. Betty sat on the edge of the couch, intentupon every word. Parker, although more restrained, was equallyinterested. Moreover he was delighted to have what he had feltinstinctively confirmed, in a way, by a man of science.
"Herbert Spencer said," continued the doctor, "that no thought, nofeeling, is ever manifested save as the result of a physical force.This principle will before long be a scientific commonplace. AndHuxley predicted that we would arrive at a mechanical equivalent ofconsciousness. But I will not attempt to bolster my position withauthorities. I know, and I can prove what I know.
"You, Mr. Parker, have been receiving some particularly annoyingthoughts which have been intensified, it may be, by others, oranother. Human will power can alter the rate of vibration of the lineof force, or etheric wave. So-called good thoughts have a high rate ofvibration, and those which are called bad ordinarily have a low rate.Have you, perhaps, an enemy?"
"Not that I know of," replied Parker, in a low voice.
"Then it would follow that this is accidental."
* * * * *
"Good heavens! Do you mean to say that someone could do this to memaliciously?"
"So far my experiments leave something to be desired," said Dr. vonStein, without answering directly. "No doubt you are peculiarlysusceptible to thoughts which bear in any way on your work."
"But isn't there any help for it?" asked Betty. She was regarding herhusband with the eyes of a stranger.
"I believe I can do something for Mr. Parker."
There was a knock at the door. The doctor boomed an order to come in.Heinrich, with the dachshund at his heels, entered bearing a tray witha bottle of wine and some slices of heavy fruit cake. He drew out atable and placed the tray.
"Do not bring that dog in when I have guests," said Von Stein. Hespoke with a gleam of white teeth. "You know what will happen,Heinrich?"
"_Ja_, Herr Doktor! I take Hans oudt!" The man was terrified. Hegathered the dog into his arms and fairly fled from the room. Dr. vonStein turned with a smile.
"I have to discipline him," he explained. "He's a stupid fellow, butfaithful. I can't have ordinary servants about. There are scientificmen who would be willing to bribe them for a look at my laboratory."
"I did not know such things were done among scholars," said Betty,slowly.
"What I have accomplished means power, Madame!" exclaimed the doctor."There are jackals in every walk of life. If an unscrupulous man ofscience got into my laboratory, a physicist for instance, he might ...find out things!"
* * * * *
Dr. von Stein turned to his duties as host. He filled their glasses,and watched with satisfaction Betty's obvious enjoyment of the cake. Abox of mellow Havanas appeared from a cabinet: imported cigarettesfrom a smoking stand. But Parker, in spite of a liking for good wineand tobacco, was far too much concerned about his work to forget theerrand that had brought him there.
"So you think," he said, when there was opportunity, "that you canhelp me, Dr. von Stein?"
"I can," replied von Stein, firmly; "but before attempting anythingI'd like to wait a day or two. The attacking thoughts may become lessviolent, or your resistance greater, in either of which cases thecondition will fade out. You will either get better or much worse. Ifyou are worse come to see me again, and I promise you that I will dosomething!"
"I'll come, and thank you!" Parker felt better, and more cheerful thanhe had since the beginning of the disturbance. "Few things could makeme suffer so much as trouble with my work."
"That is what I thought," agreed Dr. von Stein.
* * * * *
Betty rose. Her husband caught the look in her eyes as they met thebright, black gaze of Dr. von Stein, and he went cold. That look hadalways been for him alone. Her feet seemed to linger on the way to thedoor.
"He's wonderful!" she breathed, as they started down the uneventfulstreet. "Scientific things never interested me before. But he makesthem vital, living!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Betty. "It's because he's a genius! Don't besmall, Allen!"
Parker gasped, and remained silent. He could not remember that hiswife had ever spoken to him in quite that way. They finished thelittle journey home without speaking again and Parker went directly tostudio. He sat down, with drooping shoulders, and considered the messhe had made of his book. Well, there was nothing to do but seeCartwright to-morrow and face the music!
Dinner that night was a mournful affair. The soft footsteps of theservant going in and out of the dining room, the ticking of the clock,were almost the only sounds. Betty was deep in her own thoughts;Parker was too miserable to talk. He went to bed early and lay staringinto the darkness for what seemed like an eternity of slow movinghours.
The tall, deep voiced clock in the hall downstairs had just struckone when suddenly Parker's room was flooded with light. He sat up,blinking, and saw Betty standing near his bed. Her fingers twistedagainst each other; her face was drawn and white.
"Allen!" she whispered. "I'm afraid!"
Instantly he was on his feet; his arms went around her and the yellowhead dropped wearily against his shoulder.
"Afraid of what?" he cried. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"I don't know!" All at once her body stiffened and she pulled awayfrom him. Then she laughed--"What nonsense! I must have been having abad dream ... it's nothing. Sorry I bothered you, Allen!"
She was gone before his could stop her. Bewildered, he did not knowwhether to follow. Better not, he thought. She would sleep now, andperhaps he would. But he was worried. Betty was becoming less and lesslike herself.
* * * * *
At last Parker did sleep, to awake shortly after daylight. He got ahasty breakfast and took an early train to New York. When JohnCartwright, a shrewd and kindly man well advanced in years, arrived athis office Allen Parker was right there waiting for him.
Cartwright had shown a real affection for the younger man, a paternalinterest. He beamed, as usual, until he sat down with the newdrawings. Slowly the smile faded from his face. He went over themtwice, three times, and then he looked up.
"My boy," he said, "did you do these?"
"Yes."
"Do you know that you are turning a delicate and beautiful romanceinto a lascivious libel on the human race?"
"It is being done," replied Parker, in a low voice. "And I--I can'thelp myself!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that when I start to draw Madelon my hand produces that womanof Babylon! The writing is just as bad. It's full of sneering hints,double meanings ... I shall destroy the stuff. I've been to see apsycho-analyst."
"Ah!" thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're tired, Allen. Why not take Bettyfor a sea trip? There'll still be time for fall publication."
"I'm going to try everything possible. I'd rather be dead than do worklike this!"
* * * * *
When Parker left his friend he was somewhat encouraged. After thefirst shock Cartwright had been inclined to make light of thedifficulty, and by the time Allen Parker reached Pine Hills his stridehad the usual swing and snap.
He ran up the steps of his house and burst into the living room with asmile. Betty was sitting by one of the windows, her hands lyingrelaxed in her lap. She turned a somber face toward her husband, andspoke before he had time to say a word of greeting.
"You knew that Cordelia Lyman died a short time ago, didn't you?"
"What's that?" exclaimed Parker, bewildered. "Lyman? Oh, the old ladydown the street who left her money to found a home for aged spinsters?What about it?"
"But she didn't leave her money to found a home for aged spinsters,Allen. She had said she was going to, and everybody thought so. Herwill was admitted to probate, or whatever they call it, yesterday. Sheleft half a million, all she had, to Dr. Friedrich von Stein, to beused as he thinks best for the advancement of science!"
"Good heavens!" Parker stared. "Why, I didn't know she knew him. He'donly been here a week or so when she died."
"There isn't a flaw in the will, they say. You can imagine that PineHills is talking!"
"Well," said Parker philosophically, "he's lucky. I hope he doessomething with it."
"He will," replied Betty, with conviction. "He'll do a great manythings!"
* * * * *
Parker told her of his interview with Cartwright, but she seemedlittle interested. He did not try to work that day but, after he hadput the offending drawings and manuscript out of sight, he wandered,read, smoked, and in the evening persuaded Betty to take a moonlightwalk with him.
They passed the house of Dr. von Stein, from which came a fainthumming that sounded like a dynamo. Across the street the church wasalight for some service. Triumphant music drifted to them. The moonhung above the spire, with its cross outlined darkly against thebrilliant sky. The windows were great jewels. Betty drew a deepbreath.
"Sometimes, Allen," she said, "I feel like praying!"
"You _are_ a beautiful prayer," whispered Parker.
She walked close to him, holding his arm, and repeated softly:
"Are not two prayers a perfect strength? And shall I feel afraid?"
But that was the end of that mood. By the time they arrived home Bettywas again the strange, aloof, cold, slightly hard woman of the pastfew days. Again depression settled upon Allen Parker.
* * * * *
The next morning he breakfasted alone and went directly to the studio,without seeing Betty. Sun streamed into the room; the pencil movedswiftly. For a brief time Parker thought that he was himself again, asMadelon grew upon the block of paper. But the end was terrible. Thelast few strokes made her grotesque. This time the woman he had drawnwas not merely evil; she was a mocking parody of his heroine. He threwdrawing and pencil across the room.
But no real artist can be discouraged short of death. He went to workagain and labored until luncheon time. The results were no better,although they varied. Now it seemed that some malevolent power wasplaying with him, torturing him to the accompaniment of devilishlaughter. He was haggard and actually stooped of body when he bathedhis face and went down to the dining room. From across the table Bettyregarded him curiously.
"Fleming Proctor shot himself last night," she announced, calmly."This morning they found him dead in his office."
"Proctor? You don't mean the president of the Pine Hills NationalBank?"
"Yes." The expression of Betty's face did not change. "There was anote saying that he was sorry. It seems he'd made a large loan withoutsecurity to an unknown person, and the bank examiner was comingto-day. Proctor said he couldn't help what he did. The note wasconfused as though he were trying to tell something and couldn't. Theythink his mind must have given way, particularly as they can't tracethe loan, although the money is undoubtedly gone."
* * * * *
"That kind of thing doesn't happen!" Parker was stunned. He had knownFleming Proctor, and liked him. They met often at the country club."Proctor was honest, and a fine business man!"
"It did happen, Allen!"
"I'd like to know more about it. That would have been a case for Dr.von Stein to take in hand."
"Perhaps," said Betty, in a voice like ice. "But I'm more interestedin finding out how soon you are going to return to normal. Frankly,I'm beginning to get bored."
Without a word Parker rose and left the room. Never before had hiswife hurt him like this. Doubly sensitive just now, he was sufferingalone in the studio when the telephone rang.
"Dr. von Stein speaking. Are you better, Mr. Parker?"
"Worse! Much worse!"
"Then come to my house this evening at nine. May I expect you? Andalone?"
"Yes." There was much Parker wanted to say, but he choked the wordsback. "I'll be there
"I shall be ready for you. Good-by."
Allen Parker hung up the receiver. He did not leave the studio againuntil evening.
* * * * *
As Parker approached the house of Dr. Friedrich von Stein he saw thatthe church was lighted as it had been the night before. In a clear skythe moon rode above the spire. He paused to let his glance sweep upalong the beautiful line that ran from earth to the slender cross.That was how he felt. He wanted to rise, as that line rose, fromcumbering earth to clarity and beauty.
He mounted the steps and rang. Dr. von Stein met him, with eyes andteeth agleam in the hall light. Wearily Parker stepped inside. Hismood of the moment before was fading.
"Go upstairs to my laboratory, if you please," said the doctor. "It isbest that I see you there, for it may be that you will needtreatment."
"I need something," replied Parker as he went up a long flight ofstairs. "I'm in a bad way."
Without answer von Stein led him down a short corridor and held open adoor. Allen Parker stepped into a room that bewildered him with itsstrange contrasts.
At a glance he saw that nearly the whole upper floor of the buildinghad been converted into one gigantic room. Near a big stone fireplace,where burning driftwood sent up its many tinted flames, Heinrich stoodrigidly at attention. Hans, the dachshund, crouched at his feet. Whenthe dog started to meet Parker a guttural command stopped him.
Here there were bearskins on the floor, huge stuffed chairs,footrests, little tables, humidors, pipe racks, all that one coulddesire for comfort. Two German duelling swords were crossed above themantel.
* * * * *
But beyond this corner everything was different. Parker saw the massedwindows of reddish-purple glass; he saw apparatus for which he had noname, as well as some of the ordinary paraphernalia of the chemicallaboratory. There was wiring everywhere, and a multitude of lightingfixtures. Utilitarian tables, desks and chairs were placed about withmathematical precision. There were plates and strips of metal set intothe glass smooth flooring, which was broken by depressions andelevations of unusual form.
The most striking thing in the room was a huge copper bowl that hunginverted from the ceiling. In it, and extending down below the rim,was what seemed to be a thick and stationary mist. It looked as thoughthe bowl had been filled with a silver gray mist and then turnedbottom side up. But the cloud did not fall or float away.
"I can think and speak best from my desk," Von Stein was saying."Please sit down facing me in the chair which Heinrich will place foryou. Then we will talk."
Heinrich rolled one of the overstuffed chairs noiselessly to aposition about six feet from the desk. Parker noticed a long metalstrip in the floor between him and the doctor.
Just then Hans wriggled forward and the artist scratched his ears, tobe rewarded by a grateful tongue. Again a command from Heinrichbrought the dog to heel, but the voice was not so gruff this time.Together they returned to the fireplace.
Von Stein let his hands rest upon the desk top--a surface covered withlevers, electric switches, push buttons, and contrivances the natureof which Parker could not guess. The doctor leaned forward. He threwover a switch. The lights in the room became less bright. He pressed abutton. The Danse Macabre of Saint-Saens floated weirdly upon theair, as though the music came from afar off.
"Is that part of the treatment?" asked Parker, with a faint smile."It's not cheering, exactly."
"Merely an idiosyncrasy of mine," answered Von Stein, showing histeeth. "Before anything is done I must, in order to aid thereceptivity of your mind, go a little further with the explanation ofcertain things which I mentioned the other day. I promise not to boreyou. More than that, Mr. Parker, I promise that you will be moreinterested than you have ever been in anything!"
* * * * *
It seemed to Parker that there was something sinister in the mannerand speech of Dr. von Stein. The Dance of Death! Did that music have ameaning? Impossible! It was only his own sick mind that was allowingsuch thoughts to come to him.
"Anything that will help," he murmured.
"You have noticed that copper bowl?" Von Stein did not wait for areply. "The misty appearance inside and underneath it is given bythousands upon thousands of minute platinum wires. When it is in use aslight electrical current is passed through it, varying in poweraccording to the rate of vibration needed. That instrument, my dearsir, is a transmitter of thought. I may call it the microphone of themind. I can tune in on any mind in the world, by experimenting up anddown the vibration range to determine the susceptibility of theparticular person. The human mind does not need an amplifier, as theradio receiving set does. Rather, it acts as its own amplifier, oncehaving received the thought. I invented one, however, to prove that itcould be done. I equipped Heinrich with it and in half an hour bysuggestion reduced him to his present state of docile stupidity. Ihave, Mr. Parker, the means of moving people to do my bidding!"
* * * * *
Von Stein stopped abruptly, as though for emphasis and to allow hisastounding statements to take effect. Parker sat stunned, strugglingto grasp all the implications of what he had just heard. Suddenly theybecame clear. He saw events in order, and in relation to each other.
"So that's how it was with Cordelia Lyman!" he cried hoarsely, leaningforward. "And it was you who had that money from Fleming Proctor!"
"You are not unintelligent," remarked Dr. von Stein. "Better thatscience should have the Lyman money than a few old women of noparticular use. As for Proctor, he was a fool. I would have protectedhim."
"And my pictures ... my book...."
"I can cure you, Mr. Parker. _If I will!_"
"And anyone is at the mercy of this man!" groaned Parker.
"Not absolutely, I'm sorry to say," said the doctor. "The action ofthought on the human consciousness is exactly like that of sound onthe tuning fork. When the mind is tuned right, we'll say forillustration, the lower vibrations are not picked out of the ether.But as few minds are tuned right, and as all vary from time to time,I'm practically omnipotent."
"You have changed the nature of my wife!" Parker was getting hold ofhimself and he could speak with a degree of calmness. "That is a worsecrime than the one you've committed against me directly!"
"Mr. Parker," said the doctor, impressively, "you are in a web. I amthe spider. You are the fly. I don't particularly desire to hurt you,but I want your wife. This is the crux of the matter. She is the womanto share my triumphs. Already I have aroused her interest. Give her upand you will continue your work as before. Refuse, and you will loseher just as certainly as though you give her to me. For, my dear sir,you will be insane in less than a month from now. I promise youthat!"
* * * * *
Allen Parker was not one to indulge in melodrama. For a long moment hesat looking into the black eyes of Von Stein. Then he spoke carefully.
"If my wife of her own will loved you, and wanted freedom, I'd let hergo. But this is a kind of hypnosis. It's diabolical!"
"Who but the devil was the father of magic?" asked the doctor,cheerfully. "Hypnosis is unconsciously based on a scientific principlewhich I have mastered. Repeated advertising of a tooth brush or a boxof crackers is mild mental suggestion--hypnosis, if you will. My dearfellow, be sensible!"
"Sophistry!" growled Parker.
Von Stein laughed. He moved a lever upon a dial and a sheet of blueflame quivered between them. With another movement of the lever itvanished.
"I could destroy you instantly," he said, "and completely, and no onecould prove a crime! I shall not do it. I have no time to be botheredwith investigations. Think of the fate I have promised you. Think, andyou will give her up!"
"I shall not!" Parker wiped cold drops from his forehead. The doctorfrowned thoughtfully.
"I'll intensify her desire to come here to-night," he said. "Sheherself will pers
* * * * *
Parker set his fingers into the arms of his chair as Von Stein roseand walked to the copper bowl. He stood directly under it, and put ongoggles with shields fitting close to his feet. At the pressure of hisfoot a tablelike affair rose from the floor in front of him. This,like the desk, was equipped with numerous dials, buttons and levers.Von Stein manipulated them. The great cap of copper descended untilhis head was enveloped by the mist of platinum wires. A faint humminggrew in the room. A tiny bell tinkled.
"The connection is made," murmured Von Stein. He lifted a hand forsilence: then his fingers leaped among the gadgets on the table. Afterthat came a brief period, measured by seconds, of immobility. Then thetable sank from view, the copper bowl lifted, and Dr. von Stein wentback to his chair.
"She will be here shortly," he said. "If that does not change yourmind...."
He shrugged. Parker knew what that shrug meant. He searched his mindfor a plan and found none. Better die fighting than yield, or risk thevengeance of Friedrich von Stein. If he could get the doctor away fromthe desk where he controlled the blue-white flame there might be achance to do something. Von Stein was by far the larger man, butParker had been an athlete all his life. If....
"That mass of copper and platinum," he said, tentatively, "will makeyou master of the world!"
"My brain, my intelligence, has made me master of the world!"corrected Von Stein, proudly. He was touched in the right spot now."You have not seen all!"
* * * * *
He sprang up and went to one of the tables. From his pocket he took apiece of paper and crumpled it into a ball while, with the other hand,he made some electrical connections to a plate of metal set into thesurface of the table. Next he placed the wad of paper on the plate.Then, standing at arm's length from the apparatus, he pressed abutton. Instantly the paper disappeared behind a screen of the colorsof the spectrum, from red to violet. The banded colors were there fora minute fraction of a second. Then there was nothing where the paperhad been on the plate. Von Stein smiled as he stepped away from thetable.
"The electron is formed by the crossing of two lines of force," hesaid, "and the interaction of positive and negative polarity. Theelectron is a stress in the ether, nothing more, but it is the stuffof which all matter is made. Thought is vibration in one dimension;matter in two. You have just seen me untie the knot, dissociate theelectrons, or what you will. In plain language I have caused matter tovanish utterly. That paper is not burned up. It no longer exists inany form. The earth upon which we stand, Parker, can be dissolved likemist before the sun!"
Appalled as he was at this man who boasted and made good his terribleboasts Allen Parker had not forgotten the purpose that was in him. Nowwas his chance, while Von Stein stood smiling triumphantly betweentable and desk.
Parker shot from his chair with the speed of utter desperation. Hefeinted, and drove a vicious uppercut to the jaw of Dr. Friedrich vonStein. The doctor reeled but he did not go down. His fists swung.Parker found him no boxer, and beat a tattoo upon his middle. VonStein began to slump.
Then two thick muscled arms closed around the artist from behind andhe was lifted clear of the floor. He kicked, and tried to turn, but itwas useless. The doctor recovered himself. His eyes blazed fury.
"Put him in the chair, Heinrich!" he roared. "For this I will show youwhat I can do, Herr Parker!"
* * * * *
At that instant little Hans, who had been yelping on the edge of thebattle, dashed in. He leaped for the throat of Von Stein. The doctorkicked him brutally.
The shriek of agony from Hans loosened the arms of Heinrich. Parkergot his footing again. He saw the clumsy serving man spring forwardand gather his dog up to his breast. Again Parker rushed for hisenemy.
It was clear now that Von Stein was cut off from the controls hewanted, and without Heinrich he could not master Parker in a fight.For an instant he stood baffled. Then he retreated the length of theroom, taking what blows he could not beat off. He staggered upon aplate of metal set into the floor, righted himself, and failed in anattempt to catch hold of Parker. Suddenly he bowed in the direction ofthe distant doorway.
Allen half turned. Betty was coming down the room, staring andbreathless.
"_Leben sie wohl!_" cried Von Stein. "Farewell, Madame! I should liketo take you with me!"
A great flash of the colors of the spectrum sent Parker reeling back.Dr. Friedrich von Stein had gone the way of the crumpled ball ofpaper.
There was a long moment of silence. Then Allen Parker found his wifein his arms, clinging to him.
"'Are not two prayers a perfect strength?'" she murmured, sobbingagainst his heart.
A HUNDRED MILES UNDERGROUND
Scientists bidding their families good-by in the morning to drop fiftyor a hundred miles underground in high speed elevators, there toundertake researches not possible nearer to the earth's surface, maybe realities of the next decade or two if some wealthy individual orinstitution accepts the recommendation of Dr. Harlow Shapley,distinguished astronomer of Harvard, in a talk recently before theAmerican Geographical Society.
The earth's interior, Dr. Shapley said, is the "third dimension" ofgeography. Exploration of the planet's surface soon must cease fromlack of places to explore. Even the upper air is coming to bereasonably well known scientifically, thanks to instruments sent upwith balloons and to the radio and other investigators who have beenuncovering secrets of upper-air electricity. But the interior of theearth is still one of the great mysteries. It is a paradox ofastronomy that much more is known about the center of the sun or astar like Sirius than about the center of the earth.
Deep shafts of bore holes into the earth have been suggested often assources of heat for human use. It is doubtful, however, whether suchheat supplies could be obtained. For one thing, the supposed internalheat of the earth is still nothing but a guess. It may be that therelatively slight increases of heat found as one goes deeper inexisting mines are due to radioactivity in the rocks instead of tooutward seepage from the internal fires. Another difficulty aboututilizing earth heat is that heat moves so slowly through substanceslike rock, as any housewife can prove by trying to fry an egg on abrick placed over a gas flame. As soon as the rock heat immediately atthe bottom of a bore hole had been exhausted heat supply would stopuntil more could diffuse in from the sides.
Dr. Shapley's suggestion, in any event, is not to search for heat butfor facts. Even in existing, relatively shallow mines, he believes,scientific laboratories at different depths under the surface mightyield valuable data not now obtainable. Most scientific men willagree. Revolutionary as the idea may seem to those familiar only withthe standardized laboratories of physics or chemistry, there are soundreasons why a half-dozen or so of the sciences should do preciselywhat Dr. Shapley suggests.
At least one underground laboratory has already been installed, forProf. E. B. Babcock of the University of California has such aworkroom in the Twin Peaks Tunnel, underneath the mountain that risesabove the city of San Francisco. Natural radioactivity in the rocksthereabouts is greater than normal and Prof. Babcock finds that thisapparently increases new species among fruit flies.
To dig out laboratory rooms a mile or so down in existing deep minesprobably would cost far less than many enterprises already financed byphilanthropists. Even to deepen these shafts for several miles wouldbe much less difficult than most people imagine.
Increasing heat, if it is found that heat does increase, would not bedifficult to overcome had the engineers sufficient money. Ventilationand transportation to and from the surface, while too costly for thebusiness enterprise of winning metals from very deep mines, probablywould present no serious difficulty were facts the chief objectinstead of profit. The only question to be decided before intendingbenefactors of science are urged to consider some such project iswhether or not the facts likely to be won promise enough value tomankind.<
An excellent case can be made out for answering yes. Dr. Shapleymentioned four chief lines of investigation suitable for suchdeep-mine laboratories: studies of gravity and of the variable lengthof the day, researches on the various kinds of earthquake waves,experiments on ether drift and tests of the biological effects ofcosmic rays and of the rays from radium.
Astronomical theories indicate that the day ought to be growingslightly longer as the earth's rotation decreases a trifle fromcentury to century because of friction from the tides. The actuallength of the days seems, however, sometimes to be decreasing a tinyfraction of a second from year to year, as theory says that it should;sometimes to be increasing in a way for which no present theoryprovides. Observations underneath the earth, with a portion of theplanet's crust and gravity overhead, might yield important clues tothe cause of this mysterious wrong time kept by the terrestrialclock.