Chapter VII: Le envoi. 148 (3)

"Do not imagine that our scientific knowledge stops with the mere discovery of the direct electric current or our mechanical devices."

Nothing further could I elicit from him or any other Intermerean on these or kindred subjects. The Book of Knowledge had been opened and apparently closed.

After two days' stay in Remo's capital the Aerocars took up a goodly entourage, and we moved softly and swiftly to the Greater City.

There Xamas and all his officials awaited us, along with every Intermerean of both sexes I had met in my journeys, as well as every Municipal Custodian of the realm, and in addition the Chief Citizens of the fourteen Provinces I had not visited.

A reception fete was given me in the chief temple of the city, hoary with age and instinct with wisdom. There were songs and music by the young and happy, and apropos discourses by the older. I essayed the role of orator, thanked my entertainers for their many courtesies and the happy hours they had conferred upon a wanderer in a strange land. The afternoon and evening were a season of unalloyed happiness.

As I dropped into slumber in the house of Xamas I soliloquized: "This kindness and these honors seem significant. Perhaps the Intermereans intend to adopt me into all their knowledge and wisdom. Perhaps"----

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I felt that I was tossing on the swell of the ocean. Then there was a sensation of physical pain, as if from long exposure to the elements.

So keen was this sensation that I awoke fully, started up and looked around me. It was a grayish dawn, purpling in lines near the horizon. Towering above me I saw the outlines of a great ship, lying at anchor and lazily nodding as the swells swept into the harbor.

I found myself in one of the individual Merocars, intended for a single passenger, but the compartments containing the accumulatory motors had been removed and the marks of removal deftly concealed.

It was one of the most finished Merocars of its class with the exception of the motor, constructed entirely of prepared wood, resembling a piece of wicker work, but impervious to the sea, and floated like a cork or a feather.

I was trying to determine where I was and how I came to be in my present situation. Then came to me this in the Language of Silence:

"You have been safely delivered to those who will restore you to your land and home. Discretion is always commendable."

I knew whence this thought came, and soon the increasing light showed me that I was in the harbor of Singapore, lashed with a silken cord to the forechains of an East Indian merchantman.

To my infinite regret I found that I was clad in the same clothes I wore when the Mistletoe went to the bottom. The same trinkets and a few coins and the other accessories were still in the pockets.

But the handsome and natty garments of Intermere were gone. I was back in the world just as I left it, how long ago I could not tell, for the memories of Intermere seemed to cover a decade at least, and I estimated that those who lived to one hundred enjoyed a thousand years of life.

The lookout on the ship finally discovered me, and shortly after I and my curious boat were lifted to the deck and became the center of a gaping crowd.

As I could not account for myself reasonably, I became merely evasive and did not account for myself at all, and left the crew and passengers equally divided as to whether I was a lunatic of a cunning knave.

Among those on board was one whose presence suggested Intermere. I listened and observed, and learned that he was the Secretary of a native Rajah on board the ship. He inspected me with curious disappointment. The Merocar he seemed to worship both with eyes and soul.

"Sell it to him, for you need money."

That was Maros; I could not be mistaken.

The Secretary motioned me to a distant part of the deck and said abruptly:

"I will give you five thousand rupees for the--for the"----

"Merocar."

He started as though shocked by a bolt of lightning.

"I dare not talk--I cannot remember--but I dare not talk. Will you sell it me for five thousand rupees, Sahib? It is all I have, but I will give it freely."

"It is yours."

He went below and soon returned with the amount in bills of exchange upon the bank at Hong Kong.

He carried his purchase to his stateroom, amid the laughter of passengers and sailors, who did not conceal their merriment that any man would pay such a price for a wicker basket, and my cunning and hypnotic knavery were thoroughly established.

I remained a few days in Singapore, converting my bills partly into cash and partly into exchange on London and New York.

Sailing later to Hong Kong, I there fell in with an American military officer whom I knew, and who gave me the full particulars of Albert Marshall's death. With him I made arrangements for the shipment of my cousin's remains to his old home, via San Francisco.

Two days later I sailed for London, and within six weeks reached New York, and the home of my childhood. I shall not describe the meeting with my mother, nor speak of what was said in relation to the strange and brief communications which passed between us months before.

VII.

LE ENVOI.

I HAVE READ THE FOREGOING. IT IS A FAITHFUL REPRODUCTION OF WHAT I WAS ABLE TO COMMUNICATE TOUCHING MY EXPERIENCES. AND YET THE PICTURE DRAWN IS FAINT, HAZY AND FAR AWAY. COMPARED WITH THE BEAUTIFUL REALITY, IT IS "AS MOONLIGHT UNTO SUNLIGHT, AS WATER UNTO WINE." G. H. A.

Glenford, 1901.

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