Chapter II: Part ONE: I (1)

I begin my manuscript in the palace of the Child of the Sun in a distant world, thus relieving a mind that is apt to grow weary of mere splendour and adulation by imagining the possibility of communicating on some future day with those who were not so long ago my fellow-men and fellow-mortals on the planet I have left, never to return. Though brightness and beauty are around me in my new abode, yet a constant longing for the drab unattainable past grips me with a feverish eagerness, so that I find some small solace in placing on record from time to time my impressions of a place and a people whose existence I had never suspected until a few hours before I was hurried, a humble subject out of the Earth, to dwell as ruler of an alien sphere. Whether or no I shall ever gain the opportunity of committing this message to its desired goal I know not; but at the present moment it suits my fancy and soothes my unquiet brain to believe in the ultimate feasibility of such an event. So I shall open by relating with the utmost brevity the earlier and earthly, and therefore less interesting, portion of my career.

I had already passed by some few years the age of forty, at which landmark of life, so Count Alfieri discovered long ago, man ceases to cherish illusions, and seeks to look back upon the irredeemable past with feelings of self-satisfaction or of regret, as his case may be. My own reflections after passing this Rubicon of time were anything but agreeable, when I paused to consider the years that had slipped by between my period of youth and that of middle age, and had to confess that all my early ambitions had petered out in nothingness. I had signally failed in all things; I had plainly proved myself

"too weak to put my shoulder to the wheel
Which Fortune offers all to push or leave."

And yet, despite my laziness, my lack of initiative, my sacrifices to dull Convention, my timidity and my vacillation, I could not help harbouring a dull dim fury of resentment against Fate itself. I realised that I was the owner of high and original genius, yet this had omitted to imprint its proper mark in the world; and further, I argued that it was not wholly through my own fault that my latent virtues had never developed. The finest and most useful piece of machinery remains valueless and inert unless there be a skilled workman to set its mechanism in motion, to oil its cogs, and generally to supervise its action. So in my own case, the mental mechanism was all there ready to perform and needing but the touch of a sympathetic human hand to inspire its dormant possibilities. Some of the foremost characters in history have owed their fame and their success to the judicious but unappreciated help of persons of an inferior calibre, whose very names are often unknown to posterity; then why could not I have been permitted the service of some exterior force, some understanding coadjutor, to awaken the gigantic strength that was slumbering in myself?

Thus in my case a boyhood full of promise, yet a boyhood ever repressed and misunderstood, ripened into an early manhood of diffidence and irresolution. The golden years glided by unprofitably, until at length they reached the grand climacteric, when I found myself straying in a barren and deserted portion of the plain of life. A mental and physical weariness began to enfold me; the sense of failure at times was certainly keen and cutting as a razor, still I contrived by various devices to blunt its edge. I had indeed obtained some slight distinction in the sphere of literature, so that I was fain to feed my hungry disappointed soul with such crumbs or stale food of gratulation as fell to me from the small circle of those who admired my works, concerning which I myself can honestly say that I neither professed nor felt the smallest pride. A few trifles from my pen may possibly live in the general literature of Britain, mostly in verse, for poetry is often less perishable than prose in such instances as mine. Nevertheless, I recognised myself as a partial failure in the domain of letters, as I was admittedly a complete failure in the departments of politics, of thought, of influence, of philosophy.

Naturally, with such bitter matter for reflection, my equanimity was liable to serious disturbance what time the sharp edge of this haunting sense of a life's bankruptcy pricked my all-too-sensitive skin. At such periods long-drawn fits of depression would invade me. Though at first these would dissolve and would often leave a marked flow of gaiety and hopefulness behind them, yet such attacks grew stronger and more frequent, whilst the subsequent recovery was less ecstatic in its nature. It was during one of these temporary obsessions of brooding care that I encountered the one and only adventure of my life, the adventure indeed that, in one aspect, terminated it, as I shall presently relate. For I have only written thus much concerning my interior state of mind and my physical health to impress on the reader that, apparent failure as I was and void of all worldly success, yet I still possessed the clear inner consciousness of mental powers that far exceeded those of all my more fortunate acquaintances, and were perhaps equalled amongst very few contemporary persons whatsoever. My call to action came at last; the master hand at the eleventh hour put the rusty machinery of my unique mind in motion; and I have answered to that call, and am now employing for a worthy purpose those superior talents that, not altogether by reason of my own laches, had so long lain idle.

* * * * *

One November evening in the year 19--, whilst under the shadow of one of my recurring moods of melancholy, I made my way to the Café Royale in Regent Street, where I sat down and ordered a glass of absinthe. And here I may as well state that I am no drunkard, and that I have never sought to dispel my fits of depression by the aid of the wine-cup. Occasionally, however, I used to drink a glass of absinthe, as an excuse for visiting this foreign tavern, this latter-day Petty France in London, whose alien quality always tended to reduce my misery, for I found relaxation in the gruff Continental voices of the guests, in the sight and scent of the foreign liquors, in the garish Parisian decorations of the long low room, and in the unceasing chink of the dominoes on the marble-topped tables. I had already poured the ice-cold water upon the thin tablet of sugar reposing on the silver sifter that I had placed across the goblet, and was watching the clouded liquor below assume the yellow and green tints of the peridot, when I noticed a stranger enter the doorway, glance quickly round at the noisy crowd assembled, and then seat himself deliberately in the vacant chair opposite to me. With a languid interest I observed the new-comer, trying to recall his face, which somehow seemed vaguely familiar to me. As this personage is to figure presently as my liberator, my mentor, my particular _deus ex machinâ_, I may as well describe him here to the best of my ability. He was short, and a little inclined to stoutness; he was apparently about my own age, and was fashionably but quietly dressed; he was also obviously not an Englishman. His complexion was swarthy, even hinting at some possible admixture of Oriental blood, but his features were small, regular and far from unpleasing. His dark hair and moustache were grizzled; he had intelligent brown eyes and regular teeth; his voice showed an agreeable intonation as he ordered François to bring him some coffee. Having given his order, the stranger looked fixedly at me for a moment, the while stroking his chin with a delicate well-kept hand. Suddenly he addressed me, only to offer me the evening paper which he had brought with him. I thanked him, and seeing him thus anxious to converse, I made some commonplace remark on the badness of the weather. He replied with alacrity, and by the time the waiter had returned with his coffee the stranger and I were chatting affably. He spoke excellent English, but with an accent that caused me to speculate on his possible nationality. After we had indulged thus in small talk for ten minutes or more, my neighbour, assuming a graceful hesitation of manner, inquired of me whether my name were not A---- B----. Greatly surprised, I assented; whereupon the foreigner, with a well-bred apology for what he called his liberty of attitude towards me, stated that he was a sincere admirer of my books, and then proceeded to allude to them in a manner which showed plainly enough that at least he had read them. He praised my work warmly, complimented me on the subjects I had chosen for research, on my lucid style and on other points. Now, there are few persons who are not susceptible to praise or flattery, and I am no exception to the general rule, provided only that the praise (or flattery) be applied with a delicate brush and not with a trowel. The discriminating approval therefore of this distinguished-looking foreigner acted like a sedative to my jarred nerves, so that the cloud of depression hanging over my head began rapidly to disperse. We talked and argued with animation over my books and their themes, with which my unknown companion seemed to possess a most intimate acquaintance. Time raced rapidly during this congenial duologue, the clock above the bar denoting the flight of a full hour before my comrade broached the matter of his own identity, which could scarcely in politeness be withheld much longer. Taking a leather case from his breast-pocket, he produced a visiting card, which he handed to me, explaining to me at the same moment that he was of Italian parentage though born in the Argentine, where he followed the occupation of a merchant in connection with a large English commercial house holding concessions in Peru and Bolivia. The card bore the name "Signor Arrigo d'Aragno," and an address in Buenos Aires. Then, glancing hastily at the clock, he made some remark about an important business appointment and expressed deep concern at this abrupt ending of our agreeable conversation. With some slight hesitation however he ventured to ask whether I would not give him the extreme pleasure of my company at dinner that night, provided I would excuse such an invitation from a complete stranger after so short an acquaintance. I happened to be disengaged that day, with the uninviting prospect of a solitary evening at my club before me; and my alacrity in accepting his hospitality caused obvious satisfaction to Signor d'Aragno, who named one of the large London hotels for our trysting-place. We shook hands cordially, and separated with a warm _a rivederla_.

* * * * *

Arrived punctually at eight o'clock at the ---- Hotel, I was shown upstairs to my host's private apartment, and a few moments later we two were sitting at table and resuming our interrupted discussion of the Café Royale. By the time we had reached the stage of dessert, and the waiters had retired, this topic had somewhat flagged, and the conversation now took on a more personal complexion. The praise that had hitherto been lavishly accorded to my books was now deftly and tactfully--though of course I was unaware of the change at the actual time--shifted to myself and my exceptional gifts of mind. Leading skilfully from one point to another, d'Aragno finally stated his opinion that my inherent genius, my political views, and my remarkable culture were altogether such as marked me out as a person born to rule, as a Homeric _anax andrõn_. The generous wine I had swallowed, the intoxicating but judicious adulation and insinuating personality of my host alike operated to arouse in me that keen desire for power I had ofttimes secretly indulged in; whilst at the same time they generated an indescribable sense of bitterness against the world at large for its neglect or ignorance of so marvellous a genius as mine. I am certain now (though at the time I was quite unconscious of its employment) the will of my companion was working with every force at its command to communicate with my brain and to instil therein the full appreciation of the special object he had in view. We proceeded to higher and higher planes of argument; the famous names of history fell frequently from our lips, as we spoke of the ideal Prince of Machiavelli, of the demi-god of Corsica, of the super-man of Nietzsche, of the mystical powers wielded by the Pope of Rome and the Dalai Lama. The hours flew by on rosy wings; midnight had passed, and the gong of Big Ben had just hurled its solitary stroke of one o'clock booming through the dank foggy air without that enveloped a London grown at last comparatively silent. How well do I recall that precise moment! The reverberation of the clanging knell had scarcely subsided when my host, making a brusque movement in his chair, bluntly placed the great proposition before me, and offered me a kingdom, though not a kingdom of this world!

II

Before attempting to give a short and, I hope, a tolerably coherent account of my lengthy nocturnal interview with Arrigo d'Aragno, of his amazing statements and proposals, and of my own half-hearted and intermittent struggles against his invading powers of persuasion, I must state first of all that the whole incident rises before me at this moment with crystal clearness. Even now, in these exotic surroundings, I can see with my mind's eye that commonplace hotel parlour with its ugly luxurious furniture and its flamboyant wall-paper of scarlet patterned with a design of raised and gilded vine-leaves. In this room for several hours my host continued to address me with scarcely a pause, except at one or two points when I feebly ventured to stem the torrent of his extraordinary discourse. The open allurements, the veiled warnings, the cynical wisdom, the biting indictments of our own existing conditions of society, together composed a strange medley of arguments, which were intended to convince me of the absolute necessity of my immediate and unconditional submission to his carefully prepared scheme. And this scheme was no less than the complete surrender of myself, mind and body, into his keeping for the purpose of being transported whilst in an unconscious or comatose state and by some hidden means to another planet! I cannot of course recall the whole of that prodigal information, nor all the astonishing things he confided in me; but I do remember vividly throughout the whole of this mental ordeal that I always remained fully aware of my host's sanity. He talked the dreams of madmen, as judged by our conventional standards of science and belief; yet I knew, instinctively knew, all his bizarre statements to be fact and not fiction. Was some irresistible hypnotic force, I wonder, emanating from that will and besieging my own overwrought brain, to compel my full credence in the apparently incredible? In any case, believe I did absolutely. I grew to realise also, dimly at first, but with increasing clarity, that a refusal on my part was now practically unthinkable. Of a truth my choice lay between a swift and certain death on Earth and a new career in another planet; and as the ties that bound me to Earth were neither very strong nor very dear, whilst my curiosity was boundless, I was filled with tense excitement but not with real alarm at the prospect opened before me. With hardly an attempt at opposition, therefore, I allowed myself to become permeated through and through with the psychical current of my companion's will to power, ignoring my shrewd presentiment of intense danger ahead in the event of my seeking to decline that which I most ardently longed for despite a few passing qualms. Beyond a doubt I was completely in the toils, but I experienced no anxiety to escape thence.

* * * * *

Directing his eyes full upon my face with a concentrated stare that held my attention fixed and unwavering, d'Aragno started, and his harangue proceeded with scarcely a break for four hours, of which here I can only inscribe a few disjointed fragments. "You progressive and enlightened peoples of the important planet known as the Earth have in your own estimation acquired an immense store of knowledge, not only of things terrestrial but also of the entire scheme celestial. Your astronomers talk glibly of the presence of various metals in the Moon, of the luminous rings of Saturn, of artificial canals in Mars; you reckon with accuracy on the times and seasons of the wandering comets which you christen by the names of their discoverers--and yet, and yet you have not learnt our secret, The Secret!...

"On your aerial charts there is marked a tiny planet belonging to our solar system which your scientists, following an absurd method of nomenclature from the venue of classical mythology, have dubbed Meleager. Being small, it is held of no account by your star-gazing wiseacres, whilst the average layman of intelligence has probably never so much as heard its name. Is not that so? Have you yourself any knowledge of its existence? (I shook my head.) Now let me tell you that Meleager is an Earth in miniature; its inhabitants, its natural features, its vegetation, its fauna have all developed under identical conditions in the past, so that, were any traveller from Herthus to be unexpectedly translated thither, he would almost certainly imagine he had only found his way to some hitherto unexplored subtropical region of his own Earth. _I_ am a native of Meleager, and I am moreover one of its small band of citizens who possess its secret, which has been handed down from its original inventors to their successors through countless centuries of time. How, when and by whom The Secret came into existence I know not; and did I know, I should not inform you; but this much I am empowered to say; there is intercommunication of long standing between our small planet and your larger one; or rather, to use exact language, a limited knot of persons in Meleager own the power of visiting your Earth from time to time for certain purposes, one of which I shall presently disclose to you, as it concerns intimately our meeting and conversation this night. It is now five years and more since I have been dwelling in an alien world, making a careful scrutiny in connection with the mission that has been entrusted me by the innermost circle of the ruling caste which alone controls the polity of Meleager. I am, as it were, an ambassador to the Earth, but one whose credentials have never been presented, who has no staff of legation, no chancellery, and whose position is one-sided, for it is unknown to, and unacknowledged by, the countries to which he has been sent. I have been commanded to inquire into and report upon many terrestrial matters of concern to us, but my leading task is being brought to its termination to-day....

"My supreme duty is to choose an earth-born King for our planet. Our constitution, which is the logical outcome of the most deliberate and far-seeing policy for many generations, requires the presence in our midst of a sovereign drawn from another sphere, and that sphere is of necessity the Earth, for we in Meleager hold no communication with any other planet in Cosmos. At intervals, as expediency or necessity may dictate, a new king has to be sought and found by the Meleagrian envoy on the Earth, whose task presents, as you may suppose, extreme, well-nigh insuperable difficulties. I am tied down by certain stringent rules, and to those rules I must strictly adhere. We demand a man of intelligence, a man of good birth and breeding, one of fine presence, and last of all an individual of a fair complexion and with blue eyes. This final condition may strike you as absurd, but then the Meleagrians are a dark race with dark skins and dark eyes and hair, as you may perceive in my own person; and in their fixed opinion their extraneous ruler must be the scion of an immortal stock, a member of the family of the Sun, who alone is worshipped in Meleager. Our priests by the aid of cunning devices and mystical potions, as also by means of the waters of a certain Fountain of Rejuvenation, whose exact locale is only known to our Arch-priest and a few chosen colleagues, can improve both mentally and bodily the individual who is translated and handed over to their care. Nevertheless, the raw material counts for a good deal--as you express it in one of your homely English proverbs: 'One cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear'; and on the same analogy even our skilful ministers of state would be unable to construct the true substance of a Child of the Sun-god out of an inferior Herthian mortal. The nicest caution has therefore to be observed in the work of selection. For nearly three years now I have been busily seeking, and can at last congratulate myself on having obtained the requisite material, the potential dross that will later be converted into pure gold. For some time past I have been on your track without arousing the smallest suspicion in your mind, and now at length I have grasped the favourable, the critical, the final moment in which I claim you for this most exalted, and indeed most sacred office....

"You are thoroughly out of touch with your own age and with your own country in a special degree, and for my purpose your deep-rooted dissatisfaction causes in me on the contrary the most intense satisfaction. You have grown disgusted with the decadence of your Royal House; you are sick of the greed and frivolity of your aristocracy; you abhor the mischievous methods and aims of your unscrupulous demagogues in power; you shrink from the violence and brutishness of your all-powerful mob; you lament the utter incapacity of the few serious and honest politicians who yet survive. You mourn over the industrial devastation and the uglifying of your once-beautiful world; you turn with horror from the blatant arrogance of the ruling gang of financiers, who with the besotted populace mean to involve the whole world in a final sordid struggle for mastery. On all sides you see nothing but rapid change upon change, all for the worse; the rooting-out of all that is good, artistic and ennobling, and the substitution of all that is vile and mercenary....

"You are obsessed with the same hatred of this evil transformation as are we ourselves, the ruling body in Meleager, who utilise your planet now, not as in the past for purposes of imitation and guidance, but for serious warnings as to what to avoid in our own future course of polity. For in Meleager we still set before us as our main striving-point Universal Content, not so-called industrial and educational Progress and the mere amassing of wealth. The happiness of all is, and always has been, the sole aim of our statesmen, and we firmly hold that the various theories of equality that are so advertised and belauded on your Earth are in reality most deadly poisons that are being injected into the corporate mass of humanity. One of the leading saints of your Christian Church has wisely said that in every house are to be found vessels alike formed to honour and to dishonour, yet that, as they are all equally necessary, so viewed in that reasonable light are they all equally honourable. Thus in our government of Meleager do we recognise the clear necessity of the various grades of society which form the total fabric of every healthy and happy state; whilst we reject with scorn and loathing the specious notions that, under the guise of an equality that has no real existence, endeavour to weld all society into one drab dismal detestable whole....

"Nowadays everything that is ordered or orderly you worldlings have set out to destroy. Your barbarian hordes broke up the stable Roman Empire; your fanatical reformers and greedy monarchs destroyed the consolidating features of the Middle Ages, which though very far from being perfect yet presented many illuminating features which we deemed expedient to copy in Meleager. In recent years your death-dealing guns and your proselytising emissaries have destroyed wantonly the vast matured civilisations of China and Japan and Burmah, which are now rapidly casting out all their antique virtues and are fast absorbing all the vice and vulgarity of the West. Every community, howsoever poor or insignificant, yet content to work out its own salvation and be governed by its own ancient laws and customs, and consequently happy and healthy according to its own lights, you have disturbed and dismembered....

"Everywhere and every day the beautiful is retreating before the utilitarian; smoke and noise pollute the greenest and loveliest valleys of Europe and America; dirt and disease increase in spite of your undoubted advances in medical science, whose services are given over to the individual who will pay for them rather than to the community at large. One sees the feeble and the cretinous of your world breeding like flies, whilst those of a better condition and in sound health are found too selfish and too tenacious of their ease to undertake the trouble or expense connected with the rearing of a family. Epidemics continue, and in the form of a gift of Western civilisation are allowed to sweep away whole tribes and nations of wholesome primitive peoples; your most loathsome and yet preventable diseases of contagion still hold sway, either by reason of your own indifference or from false ideals of a prudery that, I confess, wholly passes my own comprehension. Over all your Earth the universal craving for wealth at any cost of morals or self-respect has settled like a blight. All pleasures of the intellect are rapidly ceasing to attract, and the extravagance and debauchery of the ostentatious rich are announced by your odious vassal Press as the sole objects worthy of attainment or imitation to-day....

"You slaughter and exterminate your rare animals and your beautiful birds in order that your women may adorn themselves with their pelts and plumage, and even now in this cold weather I have watched your fine ladies daily walking in your noisy, crowded streets of London, half-naked yet wholly unashamed, with their limbs and bosoms exposed equally to the bitter wind and the lascivious eye of the stranger, whilst masses of costly furs, the spoils of innocent and peaceful animals, are heaped upon their pampered bodies....

"Whither are you being driven in this mad stampede after so-called progress and knowledge? In what morass will this mocking will-o'-the-wisp ultimately entice and overwhelm you?... I see chicanery and disbelief possess your churches and their priests; a clinging to stipends and a craving for personal leadership seem to me to have become the sole guides of such as are themselves supposed to guide their flocks. Everywhere change, restlessness, cynicism, vulgarity, extravagance, crime, hypocrisy, covetousness, greed, cringing, selfishness in every form are rampant; what sensitive mind would not instinctively recoil from contact with such a changing world? Can a nature such as your own endure to be associated with such a mass of passive squalor and of active evil? Are you not more than ready to welcome some chance of escape from such an uncongenial environment?...

"As you confess in your heart the utter collapse of your early aims here on Earth--so must you recognise your unique chance to attain to something higher than even you dreamed of in your youthful moods of hope and ambition. You will be reincarnated as the Child of the Sun, after you are once translated to Meleager. That is a part, but a part only, of The Secret, which perhaps already you are inclined to regard as The Fraud. And yet, if fraud it be, its ultimate aim is a beneficent and unselfish one, for it has been practised in order to keep a whole population happy and content...."

* * * * *

"And herewith I think I had now better give you some instructions, or rather hints, as to your new position and as to your proper attitude towards the governing caste of Meleager on your arrival there. As King, the Child of the Sun is invested with a species of sovereignty that has no exact counter-part on your Earth. Your high office in Meleager partakes in some respects of the nature of a King of England, of a Pope of Rome, of an old-time Sultan of Baghdad, of a modern colonial governor; yet it is itself no one of these things. To sustain your part you will be reincarnated after your long sleep, and you will awake to find yourself endued with a fresh supply of youth and energy, whilst all your acquired learning and ripe experience of a lifetime already more than half consumed will abide in your brain. There now remains for you the final stage of all on Earth, that of putting yourself and your future unreservedly and confidently in my hands...."

There followed an abrupt spell of silence in which d'Aragno scrutinised me closely. I knew not why, but I had begun to experience a sort of repulsion against his arrogance in thus presuming obedience on my part before ever I had signified my assent. I felt in some wise bound to protest against this assumption of my readiness to obey, and accordingly I made a protest rather out of personal vanity than from any depth of rebellious feeling.

"And suppose, sir, I decide not to accept your proposal? Suppose I refuse absolutely and doggedly to accede to your demand, whatever the consequence to myself? What then?"

D'Aragno rose from his chair, thrust both hands into the pockets of his dress jacket, and took up a position on the hearth-rug before the dying embers of the fire. A curious expression, which I quite failed to analyse, spread over his features, as he regarded me sternly for some moments in silence. At length he spoke:

"Your objection I do not regard as sincere. It is idle, and has been prompted, I am convinced, by a vague sense of wounded dignity on your part. Perhaps I have been not sufficiently considerate to your proper pride. You are anxious to 'save your face,' as you express it in your English idiom. I therefore refuse to take your question seriously. You have, I know, in your heart the fullest intention of complying with my arrangements." A pause ensued, and he added with indifference: "In any case, do you suppose for an instant that I have thus spoken to you openly of THE SECRET with the smallest possibility of my sharing it with any living mortal on your Earth? In reality you have no choice left you. Whether you follow or refuse to follow my lead, your connection with your own world is already severed. Need I make the case any clearer to an intelligence such as yours?"

Again a spell of silence, which was ended by the harsh five strokes of the Westminster clock resounding through the heavy air. With the final reverberation I bowed my head, and simply said: "I am ready."

It may have been only my fancy, but I _thought_ I detected a shade of relief pass over that now sinister face; at any rate, the pleasant earnest look had returned when d'Aragno muttered quietly as though to himself: "I never felt a moment's doubt!"

Again I essayed a question, this time, one that was really agitating my mind: "As I am unalterably and inevitably destined to fill the throne of your kingdom in Meleager, surely I may be permitted to ask you for how long a period I am to enjoy the position that has been thus allotted to me? How many years can I expect to rule in this realm whence there is obviously no return? Is my reign to continue till the end of my natural mortal life, or is it to be prolonged indefinitely by mysterious measures, such as you have already hinted at?"

D'Aragno stroked his chin meditatively for some minutes and then replied in a placid voice: "That at least is a reasonable and proper question, though I have not the knowledge to answer it as you could wish or might reasonably expect. I was an infant when our late king came to be crowned, and he has ceased to rule since my sojourn on the Earth--that is to say, his tenure of office must have lasted some forty years. Thus for three years or more our realm has been without a monarch, so that the whole community in all its classes has begun to clamour vigorously for a successor, and hence the task of selection wherewith I have been entrusted, and which I am now bringing to a close. Our late king was, I fear, unfortunate in his relations with our priestly or governing class, and by his own folly rendered his office a source of real danger to our whole system of administration. I have every reason to believe no such catastrophe is likely to occur in your case. Your native endowments of head and heart, combined with the additional advantages of youth and wisdom that you will obtain on your arrival in Meleager, will protect you sufficiently from such an untimely ending. Yet I warn you, you will require all your faculties, especially those of self-restraint and discretion, if you are to win and retain the good will and co-operation of that all-powerful hierarchy which is actually not only your master but in a certain sense also your creator. It used to be said in ancient Rome that two augurs could never pass in the public streets without smiling--well, you must first of all learn to repress that classical grimace, and be content to abide ever with a solemn countenance in an atmosphere of make-believe. Moreover, the desirability of such an attitude ought not to irritate a person who like yourself is filled with a divine discontent. You will be the glorious and adored figure-head of a community wherein the maximum of human happiness and content has been already attained. But I shall not pursue this dissertation further. With my warning voice ever whispering in your ears, and with your natural tact and intelligence to guide you, I am sure you will not fail. As to the length of your reign, I cannot tell you what I myself do not know. But this much I can honestly say, and that is, its duration will wholly depend on your own action, and on your relations with the senators, who alone possess the sources of power that are essential to your continued maintenance in office. For aught I know to the contrary, our priests, by means of their marvellous recipes and contrivances, may be able to prolong your life, and even your youth, indefinitely for centuries. But I do not speak with authority; I can only repeat that the extent of your reign depends very largely on your own behaviour."

"On one other matter I should also like to be informed," interposed I, "and I trust you will not condemn this question as superfluous. Tell me, why out of all the inhabitants of the Earth have I, a bankrupt in worldly glory and success, a person of mediocre attainments and the owner of no special gifts of beauty or rank, thus been chosen to fill so exalted a position? I ask from sheer curiosity, and from no subtle desire to plead my unfitness as an excuse to decline your proffered, and indeed accepted, honour."

My companion seemed to approve my question. A humorous look flitted over his features as he dryly answered: "You are fully justified in your inquiry; but you must recall that I have already mentioned that, though your world is large, my own field of choice is very limited. Our King, as I have already said, must be naturally a true Child of the Sun; in other words, he must be tall, fair, blue-eyed. This is essential, and such restrictions practically limit my search to your northern races, and mainly to such as are of Teutonic stock. Secondly, our King elect must be of middle age, for past experience and a ripe intelligence are also necessary to our plans. Thirdly, he must be either a bachelor or a widower, and preferably a misogynist at heart. He must not quit the Earth homesick; he must not be a natural prey to the influence of women, so far as it is possible to guard against this danger, the mainspring of all our fears in Meleager. For the sheer possibility of the founding of a royal race springing from the union of the Child of the Sun with a maiden of Meleager is a constant cause of alarm and watchfulness on the part of our hierarchy. Not to mention the mischief resulting from any such intrigue to our body politic, the possible birth of a Prince, a connecting link between the Divine and the Human, might in a few days, nay, in a few hours, shatter in pieces the whole edifice of the present system of government that it has taken so many centuries of unremitting wisdom and state craft to erect. Surely I need not dwell on this all-important phase? Last of all, we must have a comely personality and gentle birth combined with high intellectual gifts and training. This combination of qualities is not so easy to discover as it ought to be on your Earth. Your handsome nobles are either illiterate or debauched, and are often both simultaneously; or else they are slaves to family ties or to female influence in some form; whilst those who are both noble by birth and breeding and also highly cultivated are usually undesirable for our high purpose owing to their physical defects. In spite of all this, there are doubtless many hundreds of persons living who would be eligible and would answer to all our requirements as well as or even better than yourself; nevertheless, after much reflection I have good reason to suppose that the hierarchy of Meleager, whose envoy and servant I am, will find no cause of quarrel with my choice."

Six o'clock struck out on the foggy morning air, as d'Aragno finished speaking thus, and I grew aware of the renewed vitality pulsing once more in the surrounding London streets. "One more matter, however, I must speak of," suddenly ejaculated my host, "before we can freely discuss the final arrangements. I do not aspire to know what difference, if any, your impending transit to another planet will entail in regard to your chances of existence in the Hereafter. On your Earth, I understand, men hold the most varied and contradictory opinions and theories on this subject; and even in your Christian section of humanity I gather there is no real unanimity on this point. We in Meleager have our own ideals and beliefs in the Hereafter, but these are purely speculative, for none has ever returned to us from the domain beyond the grave to tell us the true details, and none other can supply them; we accordingly let the great question rest without laying down dogmas of necessary belief. But whether in the Other Life you will be judged or treated as a denizen of the Earth or of Meleager, I cannot imagine. I think it my duty however to remind you of this anomaly in case it may have escaped your notice, for I am well aware what strong hopes of endless happiness many members of your Christian churches build on the shadowy world yonder. From my own observations I know you yourself are fairly punctual in your religious prayers and duties, and I have always welcomed such an attitude as edifying on your part; but as to what are your real views and beliefs on the question of the Other Life I have naturally no clue. On this one matter therefore I admit you run a certain problematical risk in your translation to our star; but at the same time I cannot conceive that your future interest in an unseen, unknown, undescribed and unsubstantial world could be of sufficient import or strength to compel you to struggle against your natural desire to rule as a king in another sphere, perhaps for a stretch of time that would be out of all proportion to your earthly span of life."

He ceased suddenly, and kneeling at my feet said slowly in a suave voice that was not wholly free from irony: "And now let me tender my most respectful homage to the King elect of the planet of Meleager!"

D'Aragno then rose, and for the next hour discussed with me the necessary steps to be taken before the consummation of his mission on our Earth.

III

It was long after seven o'clock when I found myself walking home in the grey drizzle of the early morning. As was my custom when in town during the last few years I rented a bedroom at my club in St James's, and the apparition of myself in evening dress at the club doorway at that unusual hour of return evoked a momentary look of surprise on the face of the well-trained porter who was then sweeping the hall in his shirt-sleeves. Making my way up to my bed-chamber, I proceeded to carry out the first portion of my late instructions from d'Aragno. This consisted in swallowing a tumblerful of cold water in which I had previously dissolved the contents of a small packet he had given me before leaving the hotel. After that I undressed and crept into bed. On arising again I felt light as air, with the additional sensation of being several inches taller than my actual stature. My mind too had become singularly clear and active, so that I was enabled to carry out all my intended preparations with ease. First of all I placed my valuables in my trunk, which I locked; then I dressed myself in a tweed suit, and made my way downstairs to the club smoking-room, where I quietly undertook the final details I considered necessary before my departure from this world. I had no parents living; my brothers and sisters were all married and had their own homes; I had no debts, and my few outstanding bills could be easily settled by my executors, for some few years before I had signed a will that I deemed fair and adequate. There was nobody to lose in any material sense by my sudden demise; on the contrary, my brothers would obtain possession of my property, for I was the owner of a small landed estate and of a meagre income that was the source of secret but intense bitterness to me under this present oppression of plutocracy. I had therefore no more arduous task before me than to compose a letter to my favourite brother, so that he could easily infer from its contents that I had decided to make away with my life. This might have proved an unpleasant theme for composition under different circumstances, but on this occasion I experienced no difficulty in expressing myself to my own satisfaction.

This last matter accomplished, and one or two cheques to tradesmen signed and posted, I put on my overcoat and hat, and sallied out of the club towards noon. A feeling of lightness of body combined with a sense of calm exaltation of mind assisted me, as I walked slowly through the muddy streets towards the National Gallery, one of my most frequent haunts in London. Here I spent about an hour in sauntering through the huge rooms hung with the glowing works of the Old Masters, stopping occasionally to admire some special favourite, and even studying with interest a recent addition to the collection that hung on a solitary screen. Quitting the gallery, I crossed Trafalgar Square, the while sensing the gush of its fountains and gazing at Landseer's stolid lions; thence I strolled down the length of Whitehall as far as Westminster with its majestic group of Gothic towers, and after filling my eyes with its bristling outlines against the murky winter's sky, I entered the north portal of the Abbey. Here again I wandered in an erratic but pleasurable frame of mind that I vainly tried to analyse to myself, and after many pacings to and fro in the ancient cloisters, that held so many memories for me, I left the Abbey to proceed very slowly towards Charing Cross by way of the Embankment. According to our prearranged plan, I boarded a certain train that same afternoon for Dover. The journey seemed to me interminable, and as I lay back on the cushions at times I fitfully hoped for some collision that might prove fatal to me; whilst at other moments I grew morbidly nervous lest by some unforeseen accident I might be prevented from reaching my destination in good time.

I alighted at Dover about five o'clock on a raw, cold, windy, showery evening. From the station I passed into the street, and thence, in pursuance of my instructions, I followed a road leading westward. Ere long I had left behind me the suburbs of the town and was now tramping a dreary exposed thoroughfare that ran between market gardens. As I walked ahead slowly and deliberately, I suddenly saw emerge from a mean inn beside the road a short, thick-set man in seafaring dress and bearing a bundle on his shoulder. I knew him to be d'Aragno, and I continued to follow in his track. He proceeded for some distance along the high road, and then striking abruptly into a by-path amongst the dismal vegetable plots led towards the sea. The lights of Dover were now far behind me, and I realised sharply the fact that I was saying farewell to the kindly and accustomed world of men for ever and aye, and was advancing towards a doom whose nature I only dimly understood. Like Rabelais, I was stepping into the Great Perhaps; I was about to take a plunge into the ocean of the Vast Unknown.

There was no human being in sight save the mariner, and he took no notice of my presence. We began to descend the steep and slippery path towards the beach in the teeth of a tearing gale from the west. The rain was drenching me to the skin; the darkness had increased; once or twice I stumbled heavily. Suddenly my guide turned round and, noting my difficulties, halted to assist me but never spoke a word. With a firm hand he led me down the slope, and shortly we were walking on level ground beside the sea, whose angry waves I could hear close at hand, and could even distinguish the white foam on their crests as they broke on the shingle. After some minutes of skirting the fore-shore my companion stopped, and, waiting for me to approach, for a second time he seized my hand and thus helped me to climb a small crag that jutted out into the raging surf. Together we reached its summit, where we rested for a moment. Then d'Aragno in a sonorous whisper bade me remove my clothes, and one by one I stripped myself of every sodden garment in the midst of the pitiless gale laden with rain and spray. When I was naked as ever I was born, my companion signed to me to lie down on the flat surface of the rock. I obeyed, and he next produced a small phial which he gave me to drink. Strangely enough in this brief space as I lay numbed and bruised on the sharp clammy bed, buffeted by the wind and stung by the lashing of the rain-drops, two lines from an old Moravian hymn kept buzzing in my brain;

"Oh, what is Death?--'Tis Life's last shore
Where vanities are vain no more."

But it could have been only for a minute or so, for d'Aragno was already forcing the phial to my lips, and at the same time helping me to raise my aching head, the better to obey his command. A burning-hot sweetish liquid now raced down my throat; an indescribable sense of warmth and repose began to trickle through every portion of my body; wondrous waves of violet and vermilion were floating before my eyes or in my brain; in a shorter space than it takes me to write this single sentence I became insensible.

* * * * *

Hours, days, weeks, even months may have elapsed before I happened on my next moment of consciousness. A dim sensation first of floating, and then of being swayed or rocked, filled the vacant interval between my lying on the spray-wetted rock at Dover and my awaking amid unfamiliar surroundings. At the first quiver of sentient life I could see practically nothing; I could only feel that I lay in semi-darkness with my whole frame stretched out vigorously but without pain on a couch which contained a system of pulleys at its head and foot. I was faintly aware of the pressure of this innocuous species of rack, and was trying to open my eyes wider, when an approaching figure waved a censer before my face, and the thick narcotic smoke issuing thence promptly forced my half-awakened mind back into slumber. My next impression was more definite. The chamber wherein I reposed gradually took shape, as it were in patches, such as occurs in cases of recovery from the effects of chloroform after a severe surgical operation. I was no longer extended by pulleys, but rested supine on the couch, whilst three or four persons were busily engaged in kneading and pinching every muscle in my body. My mouth too felt very sore, and by exploring with my tongue I was astonished to find that several new teeth, evidently drawn from strange mouths, had been recently inserted with exquisite skill in my own gums, for what with the blight of middle age and the inattention of youth my back teeth were by no means numerous at the date of my recent withdrawal from Earth. Whoever my dental surgeon might have been, there could be no two opinions as to his skilful performance on my jaws, for he had not only removed such molars as were decayed or broken, but had planted and made grow freshly plucked substitutes with their bleeding roots. The whole operation was complete, and its completeness has led me to believe that a considerable period must have intervened since my arrival in Meleager, where presumably I was now lying. I noticed that the figures around me were clothed in flowing white robes, and I was beginning to satisfy my curiosity still further when again someone approached with a censer, which he deftly swung so close to my face that once more I was compelled to swallow that thick stupefying incense whose fumes speedily plunged me in oblivion for a second time.