Chapter 23

The Nervina smiled and nodded. Her eyes were just as wonderful as Chick remembered them, full of elusiveness, of the moonbeam's light, of witchery past understanding.

“Yes,” she affirmed. “You see, Mr. Watson, it is the will of the Prophet. Harry is of the Chosen. We have come for the great Dr. Holcomb--for the Jarados!”

And she led the way. Watson followed in silent wonder; behind him came the Geos and the rest, quiet and reverent. The soft glow still held, so that they seemed to be walking through the walls of cold fire. At the end of the passage they came to a door.

The Nervina touched three unmarked spots on the walls. The door opened. The queen stood aside, and motioned for Chick and Harry to enter.

It was a long room, pear-shaped, and fitted up like the most elaborate sort of laboratory. And at the far end, seated in the midst of a strange array of crystals, retorts and unfamiliar apparatus, was a man whom the two instantly recognised.

It was the missing professor, looking just as they remembered him from the days when they sat in his class in Berkeley. There was the same trim figure, the same healthy cheeks, pleasant eyes and close-cropped white beard. Always there had been something imperturbable about the doctor--he had that poise and equanimity which is ever the balance of sound judgment. Neither Chick nor Harry expected any rush of emotion, and they were not disappointed.

Holcomb rose to his feet, revealing on the table before him a queer, dancing light which he had been studying. He touched something; the light vanished, and simultaneously there came an unnameable change in the appearance of certain of those puzzling crystals. The doctor stepped forward, hand extended, smiling; surely he did not look or act like a prisoner.

“Well, well,” spoke he; “at last! Chick Watson and Harry Wendel! You're very welcome. Was it a long journey?”

His eyes twinkled in the old way. He didn't wait for their replies. He went on:

“Have we solved the Blind Spot? It seems that my pupils never desert me. Let me ask: have you solved the Blind Spot?”

“We've solved nothing, professor. What we have come for is, first, yourself; and second, for the secrets you have found. It is for us to ask--what is the Blind Spot?”

The professor shook his head.

“You were always a poor guesser, Mr. Wendel. Perhaps Chick, now--”

“Put me down as unprepared,” answered Chick. “I'm like Harry--I want to know!”

“Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix,” laughed Holcomb. “We, who know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still more! It may be, after all, that we know very little; even though we have solved the problem.” His eyes twinkled again, aggravatingly.

“Tell us, then!” from Harry, on impulse as always. “What is the Blind Spot?”

But Holcomb shook his head. “Not just now, Harry; we have company.” The Geos and the Jan had entered. “Besides, I am not quite ready. There remain several tangles to be unravelled.”

As he shook hands with the Geos, he spoke in the Thomahlian tongue. “You are more than welcome.”

The Rhamda bent low in reverence and awe. His voice was hushed. He spoke:

“Art thou the Jarados, my lord?”

“Aye,” stated the doctor. “I am he; I am the Jarados!”

It was a stagger for both young men. Neither could reconcile the great professor of his schooldays with this strange, philosophic prophet of the occult Thomahlians. What was the connection? What was the fate that was leading, urging, compelling it all?

“Professor, you will pardon our eagerness. Both Harry and I have had adventures, without understanding what it was all about. Can't you explain? Where are we? And--why?” And then:

“Your lecture on the Blind Spot! You promised it to us--can you deliver it now?”

The professor smiled his acknowledgement.

“Part of it,” he said; “enough to answer your questions to some extent. Had I stayed in Berkeley I could have delivered it all, but”--and he laughed--“I know a whole lot more, now; and, paradoxically, I know far less! First let me speak to the Geos.” He learned that the struggle outside had terminated successfully for the Rhamda and his men. All was quiet. The Senestro had made his escape in safety back to the Mahovisal. The doctor ordered that he was not to be molested.

The Geos and the others left the room, escorting the Aradna, who was too exhausted for further experiences. There remained with the doctor, Chick, Harry, and the Nervina.

“I will reduce that lecture to synopsis form,” began the professor. “I shall tell you all that I know, up to this moment. First, however, let me show you something.”

He indicated the table from which he had risen. Chief among the objects on its top were fragments of minerals, some familiar, some strange. Above and on all sides were the crystal globes or, at least, what Chick named as such--erected upon as many tripods. One of these the professor moved toward the table.

Simultaneously a tiny dot appeared on a small metal plate in the centre of the table. At first almost invisible, it grew, after a minute or so, to a definite bit of matter.

The professor moved the tripod away. Nearby crystals, inside of which some dull lights had leaped into momentary being, subsided into quiescence. And the three observers looked again and again at the solid fragment of material that had grown before their eyes on that table.

Something had been made out of nothing!

The doctor picked it up and held it unconcernedly in his fingers.

“Can anybody tell me,” asked he, “what this is?”

There was no answer. The professor tossed the thing back on the table. It gave forth a sharp, metallic sound.

“You are looking at ether,” spoke he. “It is the ether itself--nothing else. You call it matter; others would call it iron; but those are merely names. I call it ether in motion--materialised force-coherent vibration.

“Like everything else in the universe it answers to a law. It has its reason--there is no such thing as chance. Do you follow? That fragment is simply a principle, allowed to manifest itself through a natural law!

“Try to follow me. All is out of the ether--all! Variety in matter is simply a question of varying degrees of electronic activity, depending upon a number of ratios. Life itself, as well as materiality and force, comes out of the all-pervading ether.

“This object here,” touching the crystal, “is merely a conductor. It picks up the ether and sends it through a set degree of vibrational activity. Result? It makes iron!

“If you wish you may go back to our twentieth century for a parallel--by which I mean, electricity. It is gathered crudely; but the time will come when it will be picked up out of the air in precisely the same manner that men pick hydrocarbons out of petroleum, or as I sift the desired quality of ether through that globe.

“This, I am convinced, is one of the fundamental secrets of the Blind Spot. Is there any question?”

Wendel managed to put one.

“You said, 'back in the twentieth century.' Is it a question of time displacement, sir?”

“Suppose we forgo that point at present. You will note, however, that the Thomahlian world is certainly far in advance of our own.”

“Professor,” asked Watson, “is it the occult?”

“Ah,” brightening; “now we are getting back to the old point. However, what is the occult?” He paused; then--“Did it ever occur to you, that the occult might prove to be the real world, proving that life we have known to be merely a shadow?”

Silence greeted this. The professor went on:

“Let me ask you: Are you living in a real world now, or an unreal one?” There was no response. “It is, of course, a reality; just as truly as if you were in San Francisco. So,” very distinctly, “perhaps it is merely a question of viewpoint, as to which is the occult!”

“Just what we want to know,” from Harry.

“And that,” tossing up his hands, “is exactly what I cannot tell you. I have found out many things, but I cannot be sure. I left certainty in Berkeley.

“Today I feel that there is some great fate, some unknown force that defies analysis, defies all attempts at resolution--a force that is driving me through the role of the Jarados. We are all a part of the Prophecy!

“We must wait for the last day for our answer. That Prophecy must and will be fulfilled. And on that day we shall have the key to the Blind Spot--we shall know the where of the occult.”

He took a sip from a tumbler of the familiar green fluid.

“Now that I have told you this much, I am going back to the beginning. I, too, have had adventures.

“How did I come to discover the Blind Spot?

“It was about one year prior to my last lecture at the university. At the time I had been doing much psychic-research work, all of which you know. And out of it I had adduced some peculiar theories. For example:

“Undoubtedly there is such a thing as a spirit world. If all the mediums but one were dishonest, and that one produced the results that couldn't be explained away by psychology, then we must admit the existence of another world.

“But reason tells us that there is nothing but reality; that if there were a spirit world it must be just as real, just as substantial as our own. Moreover--somewhere, somehow, here must be a definite point of contact!

“That was approximately my theory. Of course I had no idea how close I had come to a great truth. To some extent it was pure guesswork.

“Then, one day Budge Kennedy brought me the blue stone. He told me its history, and he maintained that it was lighter than air, which of course I disbelieved until I took it out of the ring and saw for myself.

“I went at once to the house at 288 Chatterton Place. There I found an old lady who had lived in the house for some time. I asked to see the cellar where the stone had been unearthed. Understand, I had no idea of the great discovery I was about to make; I merely wanted to see. And I found something almost as impossible as the blue stone itself-a green one, heavier than any known mineral, answering to no known classification but of an entirely new element. It was no larger than a pea, but of incredible weight.

“Coming upstairs I found the old lady a bit perturbed. I had told her my name; she had recognised me as well.

“'Come with me,' she said.

“With that she opened a door. She was very old and very uncertain; yet she was scarcely afraid.

“'In there,” she said, and pointed through the door.

“I entered an ordinary room, furnished as a parlour. There was a sofa, a table, a few chairs; little else.

“'What do you mean?' I asked.

“'The man!'

“'The man! What man?”

“'Oh!' she exclaimed, 'he came here one night when the moon was shining. He sat down on the doorstep. He was just the kind of a lad that's in need of a mother. So I asked him to lie on the sofa. He was tired, you see, and--I once had a son of my own.'

“She stopped, and it was a moment before she continued. I could feel the pressure of her hand on my arm, pitiful, beseeching.

“'So I took him in there. In there; see? On that sofa. I saw it! They took him! Oh, sir; it was terrible!'

“She was weird, uncanny, strangely interesting.

“'He just lay down there. I was standing by the door when--they took him! I couldn't understand, sir. I saw the blue light; and the moon--it was gone. And then--' She looked up at me again and whispered: 'And then I heard a bell--a very beautiful bell--a church bell, sir? But you know, don't you? You are the great Dr. Holcomb. That's why you went into the cellar, wasn't it? Because you know!'

“Her manner as much as her story, impressed me. I said:

“'I must give this room a careful examination. Would you be good enough to leave me to myself?'

“She closed the door after her. I had the green stone in my hand; it was very heavy, and I placed it on one of the chairs. The blue stone I still held. At the moment I hadn't the least notion of what was about to happen; it was all accident, from beginning to end.

“All of a sudden the room disappeared! That is, the side wall; I was not looking at the dingy old wallpaper, but out through and into an immense building, dim, vast and immeasurable.

“Directly in front of me was a white substance like a stone of snow. Upon this substance was seated a man, about my own age, as nearly as I could make out. He looked up just as I noted him.

“Our recognition was mutual. Immediately he made a sign with one hand. And at once I took a step forward; I thought he had motioned. It was all so real and natural. Though his features were dim he could not have been more than ten feet distant. But, at that very instant, when I made that one step, the whole thing vanished.

“I was still in the room at Chatterton Place!

“That's what started it all. Had this occurred to any one else in the world I should have labelled it an unaccountable illusion. But it had happened to me.

“I had my theory; between the spiritual and the material there must be a point of contact. And--I had found it! I had discovered the road to the Indies, to the Occult, to all that other men call unknowable. And I called it--

“The Blind Spot.”

XLV

THE ARADNA

Thus had the professor got into actual touch with the occult--by sheer accident. Up to that time it had been only a hypothesis; now it was a fact. Next step was to open up direct communication.

“That was difficult. To begin with, I worked to repeat the phenomena I had seen, getting some haphazard results from the start. My purpose throughout was to exchange intelligent comment with the individual I had beheld on that snow-stone within the Spot; and in the end I succeeded.

“He gave me fairly explicit warning as to when the Blind Spot should open, not only to the eye, but in its entirety, as it had done for the young man of whom the old lady had told me. We agreed through signs that he would come through first.

“Understand, up to the instant of his actual arrival, I didn't know just what he was like. I had to be content with his sign-talk, by which he assured me he was a real man, material, of life and the living.

“I made my announcement. You know most of what followed. The Rhamda came to Berkeley; together we returned to Chatterton Place, for it was imperative that we hold the Spot open or at least maintain the phenomenon at such a point that we could reopen it at will. Both of us were guessing.

“Neither of us knew, at the time, just how long the Rhamda could endure our atmosphere. He had risked his life to come through; it was no more than fair that I should accede to his caution and insure him a safe return to his own world.

“But things went wrong. It was ignorance as much as accident. At Chatterton Place I was caught in the Blind Spot, and without a particle of preparation was tossed into the Thomahlia.

“When I came through, the Nervina went out. Thus I found myself in this strange place with no one to guide me. And unfortunately, or rather, fortunately, I fell into the hands of the Bar Senestro.

“Now, for all that he is a sceptic, the Senestro is a brave man; and like many another unbeliever, he has a sense of humour. My coming had been promised by Avec; so he knew that somehow I was a part of the Prophecy--the prophecy which, for reasons of his own, he did not want fulfilled.

“So he isolated me here in the house of the Jarados. A bold sort of humor, I call it--to defy the Prophecy in the very spot where it was written!

“But it was fortunate. I was in the house of the old prophet, with its stores of wisdom, secrets, raw elements and means for applying the laws of nature. All that I hitherto had only guessed at, I now had at my disposal: libraries, laboratories, everything. I was a recluse with no interruptions and perfect facility for study.

“First of all I went into their philosophy. Then into their science, and afterwards into their history. Whereupon I made a rather startling discovery.

“Apparently I AM THE JARADOS.

“For my coming had been foretold almost to the hour. As I went on with the research I found many other points that seemed familiar. Plainly there was something that had led me into the Spot; and most certainly it was not mere chance. I became convinced that not merely my own destiny, but a higher, a transcendental fate was at stake.

“In the course of time I became certain of this. Meanwhile I mastered most of the secrets of this palace--the wisdom of the ancient Jarados. Though a prisoner, I was the happiest of men--which I still remain. The Bars kept close watch over me, constantly changing their guard. And it was on one of those occasions that I found MacPherson.

“Well, after MacPherson's coming I was pretty much my own master. I induced the Senestro to allow MacPherson to remain as a constant bodyguard. But I never told Pat what was what, except that some day we should extricate ourselves.

“You may wonder why I did not open the Spot.

“There were several reasons: First, in the nature of the phenomenon it must be opened only on the earth side, except on rare occasions when certain conditions are peculiarly favourable. That's why the Rhamda Avec could not do it alone; I know now that I should have imparted to him certain technicalities. I possessed two of the keys then; now, I know there are three.

“And I have learned that each of these is a sinister thing.

“The blue stone, for instance, is life, and it is male. Rather a sweeping and ambiguous statement; but you will comprehend it in the end. Were a man to wear it it would kill him, in time; but a woman can wear it with impunity.

“Perhaps you will appreciate that statement better if you note what I have just done through the medium of that crystal. The blue gem is an inductor of the ether; in a sense, it is one of the anchors of the Spot of Life, or the Blind Spot--whatever we want to call it--the Spot of Contact.

“The other two particles--the red and the green one--are respectively the Soul and the Material. Or, let us say, the etheric embryos of these essentials.

“The three stones constitute an eternal trinity.

“As for the substance of the Spot itself, that I cannot tell, just yet. But I do know that the whole truth will come out clear in the fulfilment of the Prophecy. I am convinced that it has translated Watson, and now Harry Wendel and the Nervina.”

“Can you control it?” asked Chick.

“To a limited extent. I have been able to watch you ever since your coming. You did not know about Harry, but I saw him come--in the arms of the Nervina.”

The Nervina nodded.

“It is so. I knew the Senestro. I was afraid that Harry would fall into his hands. I had previously endeavoured to have him give the jewel to Charlotte Fenton. I didn't trust the great Bar--”

Harry interrupted, “Only because of her distrust of the Senestro did she decide to come through the Blind Spot with me. She knew what to do. As soon as we got here, she bundled me off, privately nursed me back to health if not strength, and when the time came rushed me up here at the last second to be in at the finish.”

Watson thought of the dog, Queen. She also had come through just in time to save his life. Did Harry know anything about her? When Wendel had related what he knew, Chick commented:

“It's almighty strange, Harry. Everything works out to fit in exactly with that confounded Prophecy. Perhaps that accounts for your affinity for the Nervina; it is something beyond your control, or hers. We'll have to wait and see.”

There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full of Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself, was now issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the sixteen days, now very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas constantly alluded to as “the Day of Judgment.”

The Senestro went unmolested. Returning to the Mahovisal, he worked now to further the truths of the Prophecy.

Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming from the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims' aircraft kept the air above the city constantly alive. There were days such as no man had ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to composure, gave evidence of the strain. The atmosphere was tense, charged with expectancy and hope. A whole world was coming to what it conceived as its judgment, and its end. And--the Spot of Life was the Blind Spot!

At last the doctor summoned the two young men. It was night, and the June Bug was waiting. This time the Geos himself was at the controls.

“We are going to the Mahovisal,” spoke the doctor--“to the Temple of the Bell and Leaf. There is still something I must know before the Judgment.” He was speaking English. “If we can bring the Prophecy to pass just so far, and no farther, we shall be able to extricate ourselves nicely. Anyway, I think we shall not return to the Palace of Light.”

He held a black leather case in his hand. He touched it with a finger.

“If this little case and its contents get through the Blind Spot it will advance civilisation--our civilisation--about a thousand-fold. So remember: Whatever happens to me, be sure and remember this case! It must go through the Spot!”

He said no more, but took his seat beside the Geos. The young men took the rear seats. In a short time they had crossed the great range of mountains and were hovering over the Mahovisal.

There was no sound. Though the city was packed with untold millions, the tension was such that scarcely a murmur came out of the metropolis. The air was magnetic, charged, strained close to the breaking point; above all, the reverence for the Last Day, and the hope, rising, accumulating, to the final supreme moment.

For the Sixteenth Day was now only forty-eight hours removed.

Both Chick and Harry realised that their lives were at stake; the doctor had made that clear. In the last minute, in the final crisis, they must crowd their way through the Blind Spot. Only the professor knew how it was to be done.

At the temple they found the Nervina and the Aradna waiting. The Jan Lucar was with them. The Geos had secured entrance by a side door. From it they could look out, themselves unobserved, over the entire building and upon the Spot of Life. The place was packed--thousands upon thousands of people, standing in silent awe and worship, one and all gazing toward the all-important Spot. There was no sound save the whisper of multitudinous breathing.

Said Harry to Chick:

“I see Queen up there!”

Harry circled the group, and bounded up the great stairs. In a moment he was patting his dog's head. She looked up and wagged her tail to show her pleasure. But she was not effusive. Somehow she wasn't just like his old shepherd. She glanced at him, and then out at the concourse below, and lolled her tongue expectantly. Then she settled back into her place and resumed watch--exactly as any of her kind would have held guard over a band of sheep.

The dog was serious. Afterward, Wendel said he had a dim notion that she was no longer a dog at all, but a mere instrument in the hand of Fate.

“What's the matter, old girl?” he asked. “Don't you like 'em?”

For answer she gave a low whine. She looked up again, and out into the throng; she repeated the whine, with a little whimper at the end.

Harry returned to the others. Nothing was said of what he had done. At once the Geos led the group through a small, half-hidden door, beyond which was a narrow, winding stairway of chocolate-coloured stone. The Geos halted.

“Dost wish the building emptied, O Jarados?”

“I do. When we come back from under the Spot of Life, we should have the place to ourselves.”

Accompanied by the two queens the Rhamda returned to the main body of the temple. Dr. Holcomb, Harry and Chick were left to themselves.

The professor took out a notebook. In it was traced a map, or chart, together with several notations.