Chapter IX: Part TWO (2)

Retiring to rest at an early hour I crept into my bed fully clothed, and waited anxiously thus until the last sound of wakefulness in the household had died away. When all was still, I rose cautiously from my couch, crossed the room on tiptoe and slipped through the open casement into the warm greyness of a summer's night without moonshine and without dew. Quietly I pursued the track leading through the gardens and farm of my host towards the lip of the ravine that separated his estate from the forbidden mountain. From previous hunting expeditions I was sufficiently familiar with this stony narrow pathway, and under this luminous crepuscule I experienced small difficulty in tracing its sinuous progress along the edge of the cliffs. An hour of slow steady walking thus at last brought me to the desired point, a spot where the private path merged into the road running from Tamarida to the viaduct. With eyes now grown fully accustomed to the gloaming I paused to scan the outline of the bridge. As I waited thus in a silence broken only by the ululation of wolves in the distant forests, I could clearly distinguish the soft padding of human feet at no great distance from where I stood. Very carefully I removed my buskins, which I hid in a neighbouring thicket, and thus relieved of my tell-tale foot-gear advanced in the direction of the sound. Peering ahead I soon obtained a better view of the bridge, as well as of the adjoining guard-house, whose façade displayed two squares of pale yellow light, from which I gathered that a guard of men-at-arms was stationed within its walls. Stealthily creeping forward, with body bent and with eyes fixed on the two warning patches of lanthorn light, I speedily espied the source of the faint tramping sound. A sentry, a diminutive but sturdy soldier, was dutifully patrolling the dusty space before the guard-house. Poor little doomed creature, fulfilling his appointed task! Poor little subject of the Child of the Sun, loyal to his creed and crown, and wholly innocent of all evil intent against myself! Very gently did I convey my sharp serviceable hunting blade from its sheath to my mouth, at the same time divesting myself of my heavy mantle of azure silk, which I placed in both hands ready for a dexterous throw in the manner of the _retiarius_ of the Roman amphitheatre. Crouched low like some panther prepared to spring, and armed with dagger and cloak, I waited to commit rank murder, to terminate the life of a fellow-creature with every right to enjoy health and happiness, to turn a wife into a widow, to render her children orphans, to wreck a peaceful home in a doubtful effort to save my own skin. Never did I hate and despise myself more heartily in my earthly career, than I did now at this first desperate stroke for freedom in Meleager. God knows whether after all I might not have shrunk shamefacedly from the loathsome act, had I allowed my thoughts thus to ramble farther in these ethical convolutions of right and wrong. But as I still hesitated, I suddenly observed the unsuspecting soldier deliberately stop, lay aside his spear, and with unconcern kneel down to fasten the loosened thong of his sandal. At such an opportunity some force--was it moral or physical?--impelled me, and with a spring that would have done credit to a young cat-a-mountain, I had leaped on the bending figure whose startled head was swiftly swathed in the thick folds of my royal robe. There was some struggling, as well as faint muffled cries, whilst I tightly clenched the half-smothered head beneath my left arm. I then transferred the dagger from my teeth to my right hand and skilfully inserted the keen blade into my captive's reins. The struggles increased, then relaxed, then faded into a series of convulsive twitchings; till I felt my hand grow wet and warm with the blood I was shedding for my own selfish purpose. Still I continued to hold the knife in its soft fleshy socket, until with a final twisting of the steel in the mode of the Spanish assassin, I slowly withdrew the weapon from the fatal gash. All things appear mercifully of a neutral tint on a moonless night, so that I was spared the chief horror of my ensanguined hands and tunic, for I greatly dislike the sight of blood. I next gently unwound my cloak from the dead man's face, and then dragged the corpse across the path to lay it behind a large clump of agaves. A small pool of stagnant water hard by enabled me to remove the gore from my hands and garments, whilst a neighbouring bank of lush couch grass assisted in the cleansing of my dagger, which I wiped and wiped again before I replaced it in its scabbard. These necessary operations afforded me space to breathe, to recuperate and to reflect.

The primal instinct of self-preservation being thus fulfilled, I returned to my scheme. With my unshod feet I walked slowly up to the guard-house, whence issued unmistakable sounds of deep slumber. I even ventured to peep through the open window, so as to catch a glimpse of four or five soldiers within, all sleeping on mattresses beneath the subdued rays of a great guard lanthorn. Quitting the building I found no obstacle in crossing the bridge, but soon after reaching its farther end I nearly met with an unexpected calamity. Groping in the gloom of a thicket of pines I suddenly felt my movements hampered, to discover just in time that I had inadvertently stumbled against a stout cord. There could be little question as to its import and object; it was a cord of intercommunication that was stretched from the temple above to the guard-house below. My good genius was certainly in close attendance on me that most memorable night, for had I tripped over this rope and set the alarm signal in motion, there could have been only one result to my escapade. As it so happened, I was not a little assisted by my discovery. In the first place, I neatly severed the cord itself, and then proceeded to fasten each of the divided ends with a clove hitch to a bough so that in the possible event of the guard at the bridge or the watchers in the temple wishing to communicate, their efforts would be nullified. Also I perceived that by following the direction of the cord, I should pursue the easiest way of ascent to the temple itself.

Bestowing a delicate touch from time to time on the friendly clue, I hurried upward, treading a well-worn path through the hanging woods that in daylight, or possibly even in moonlight, would have been sufficiently simple and obvious to the pedestrian. So rapid and unimpeded were my steps that I was out of breath by the time I reached the huge bastions that overtopped the forest trees and uplifted the main platform of the temple. Here I rested a while, and then once more, with the aid of the cord, lighted on a narrow winding stairway which I ascended with infinite caution. Arrived almost at the head of the steps, I kneeled down and very slowly raised my eyes above the level of the low parapet. What I now descried was a long narrow space, perhaps four hundred feet in length, which served as platform to an immense plain building with a lofty roof. Its long lateral extent disclosed a number of doors flush with the exterior wall and all of identical design. Even more exciting to me however than this gigantic edifice was the apparition of a white-robed guardian pacing slowly along the terrace. Towards this new opponent I entertained none of those scruples that had racked me before hurling myself on the unfortunate sentry below; but I realised the extreme danger and delicacy of the situation. The councillor, whose identity I could not discover owing to the prevailing gloom, paraded the terrace from end to end, the conclusion of his paces bringing him within a few yards of the spot where I knelt hunched below the parapet with my fingers on the handle of my hunting knife. But he noticed nothing, and turning again towards the east began to retrace his steps. When he had retired some distance, I darted from my hiding-place to examine the nearest of the doors. But there was no sign of any means of ingress either in that door, or in its neighbour, or in the door beyond. Having hazarded so much, I hastened back to my niche, there to await the return of this nocturnal watcher. In my mind, that knew time was of the essence of my final success, I was still debating whether to spring upon the approaching senator, or to make one more effort to enter the temple, when my good genius again solved my perplexity. Of a sudden I grew aware of a curious rustling sound in the tree-tops, and a second later a large drop of water plashed on my upturned face. Soon rain was pattering heavily on all around, and by the time the councillor had reached the tether of his promenade he began to feel the effects of this unexpected drenching. I saw him pause, hold out both hands to test the violence of the sudden shower, fling his cloak over his head, and then make a precipitate and somewhat undignified rush for the shelter of the building. With straining eyeballs I watched him pass each doorway till he paused at the seventh from the end, which admitted him without impediment of any kind. Still in bent posture I hurried in his footsteps through the hissing downfall, caught the swinging door before it had ceased to oscillate, and noiselessly insinuated myself within the portal. I was fully nerved for an immediate struggle, but on entering I perceived that the senator had already walked ahead some paces towards the eastern end of the huge building, and was evidently still unaware of the presence of an unauthorised visitor. Shrinking behind a pillar or buttress, I waited in patient silence for the next turn of Fortune's wheel, which was certainly revolving fast and furious that night.

So far as I could observe in the faint and flickering light I was standing within a vast barrel-vaulted erection with pillared alcoves on either side, reminding me somewhat of an immense Renaissance church. There was artificial lighting somewhere, but I failed to trace its whereabouts; the western end of the building lay in inky shadow, but its eastern extremity was open and exposed to the air. The central portion was largely occupied by a long abyss which appeared to be a species of graving dock, and resting on metal lines that ran the whole length of this hollow space were four or more bulky vessels constructed of some silver-glinted material not unlike aluminium.

Far from inspiring terror the sombre novelty of the place engendered in me a thrill of exultation, even of satisfaction, in the thought that I had indeed penetrated to the very heart of The Secret. Of my two guiding emotions at this moment an overwhelming curiosity--the unflinching curiosity of the Caliph Vathek and his mother Carathis in the fatal halls of Eblis--was perhaps predominant; but almost equally potent was the itching to revenge myself on the treacherous hierarchy of Meleager. Meanwhile the footfalls of the unsuspecting guardian of the place echoed faintly in the distance, and I could detect the silhouette of his form against the background of open space to the east. Slowly the figure returned, perhaps to repass the door, for the storm without had abated and the sky was clearing. Nearer he drew and nearer, so that in the superior light of the building I could at last distinguish the individual features of the councillor. It was Marzona, Arch-priest.

This sudden recognition caused me to start, so that possibly I may have emitted some betraying noise to call attention to my presence, though what ensued before the actual impact I am still puzzled to say. For in a trice I found myself and Marzona locked together in a deadly but silent embrace, since instinctively it would seem I had posed for action with my cloak as on the previous encounter at the bridge. For a second time I held my antagonist's head enveloped in those ample folds, albeit his limbs were unembarrassed. We were knotted, I say, in a death grip, swaying from side to side, our hatred oozing as it were from our very pores, as we strained and wrestled with furious determination. Naturally, I was the taller and the stronger of the two, but intensity of hate gives an additional stimulus, and that advantage perhaps Marzona could claim. Vainly did I struggle to utilise my dagger; try as I would, it was all I could contrive with my superior strength to keep Marzona's head tightly swathed and his limbs powerless to inflict an injury. How long this embittered duel might have lasted, and with what final result, I cannot tell, had not a false step on my enemy's part brought him perilously near the edge of the central abyss. Another step, and his left foot was treading in vacuity. He reeled; made one despairing but ineffectual effort to drag me with him in his disaster; and then I saw him, with my cloak still encompassing his head, fall headlong into that gaping pit beside us. There followed a dull faint thud of contact with something far below, and then I found myself kneeling hot and exhausted on the brink of that fatal chasm. Very warily did I lean forward to peer down and to listen, but there was nothing but blackness and silence in those impenetrable depths.

V

After some minutes spent in useless speculation I rose from my knees and proceeded to explore the building, for I knew I must hasten. With feelings compact of awe and interest I approached the weird monsters of metal that stood reposing on their sustaining rails, and growing bolder I actually entered the vessel that was nearest to the broad eastern exit. I experienced no difficulty in descending into what I can best describe as a moderate-sized cabin with two smaller closets adjoining. Standing on its hinges at right angles to the cabin was the great lid of the airship. In this modified twilight I had no trouble in picking my steps, but a minute survey of details demanded a much stronger light. Nevertheless, I could distinguish directions in Latin painted on various parts of the cabin, and it was during a strained examination of one of these notices that I must have inadvertently touched or trodden on the concealed spring, which again was destined by my abiding good angel to prove my next instrument of salvation. A gentle humming or whirring seemed to vibrate around me, beginning very softly but gradually rising in intensity so that in alarm I prepared to quit the ship and regain the floor. But before I could collect my dazed thoughts into sufficient concert to act at all, I became aware of a soft gliding motion and actually perceived the long vista of the hall recede from my eyes, as I was slowly drifting through some unseen mechanical force out of the edifice and was being launched into the infinite beyond. With a joyful bound, so it seemed to me, my craft passed out of the open arching portal and was now running swiftly as though borne on invisible wires. I watched, as in a vision, the temple, mountain and shores of Meleager dwindle and diminish in my track, until they became mere outlines in the grey dimness that precedes the dawn. Still, as one fascinated, I could only stare and marvel, for the superfluity of adventures and wonders of this night had caused a sort of mental congestion of my brain. Suddenly I was once more recalled to the necessity of action, when I felt something hard pressing on my neck, and realised it was the cover of the airship closing gently of its own volition. Hurriedly I subsided into the well of the cabin with my eyes fixed on the slow descending cover, which finally settled down on the lower portion of the vessel like the lid of some Brobdingnagian snuff-box. Meanwhile I lay below, stupefied in an atmosphere which I soon found unpleasantly warm and also permeated with a subtle indescribable odour that at first produced a sense of nausea and of suffocation. However, by lying prone on a couch, for the cabin was furnished with tolerable comfort, these disagreeable symptoms were mitigated, though throughout my long journey I never felt any desire to rise and move about by reason of my giddiness. I could see that the vessel was well supplied with provisions, mostly in liquid form; and in truth there was every arrangement for two or three persons to inhabit this hold without any marked discomfort for a considerable space of time. At intervals around the walls of the cabin were printed long sentences in Latin, interspersed with many technical terms in English, French and German wherever the classical tongue failed to express adequately the required meaning. All these notices related to the working of various levers and other pieces of mechanism on board, and as I lay reclined in a state of semi-consciousness I amused myself by deciphering these injunctions.

Time was practically non-existent during this mad whirling through aerial space, and as my capacity for further amazement was by now completely exhausted, I resigned myself to my present condition of a not unpleasant drowsiness, which made me indifferent as to whither my strange vehicle was bearing me. Day and night chased each other like alternate streaks of black and white; sunlight, moonlight, starlight, darkness, opacity in no wise concerned me during my voyage from the planet of Meleager. From time to time I sought to allay my constant thirst, or rather the irritating dryness of mouth and gullet (for I felt no hunger), with the contents of some of the numerous bottles near me; and thus refreshed, I gladly returned to my couch and sank into my previous state of lethargy. As I lay thus, I often meditated on the past, but of the present and the future I felt utterly careless and apathetic.

How long this hurtling through the empyrean lasted I cannot say; presumably there were instruments on board for computing the speed of the machine and other statistics, but I never sought to discover such appliances. Rarely too did I care to gaze out of the many port-hole windows, for the sight of the circumambient waves of empty space induced in me a horrible sense of dizziness. So I remained thus prostrate in a half-sleeping, half-waking condition that for aught I knew or cared might be prolonged for eternity, until at last I was aroused from my somnolence by a faint icy breath falling on my face. On looking up I perceived the lid of my prison slowly opening, for all the world like the upper shell of some gigantic oyster, and the widening aperture was admitting draughts of fresh bracing air into the vitiated atmosphere of the cabin. Instinctively I knew we were entering the air-zone of the Earth. Strange sounds and clickings were now manifest in the unseen machinery; our motion became less rapid and regular; and these phenomena together with the bitter cold soon dispelled my torpor and brought me to my feet, for I could stand upright now that the lid of the vessel was raised on its hinges. Craning forward I saw we were in truth nearing the Earth, though evidently at a relaxed rate of velocity; and fascinating it was to me to note the steady aggrandisement of the great orb of Mundus, as we drew perceptibly closer to its surface. Already the Eastern hemisphere was brilliantly defined, with Asia and the islands of the Orient all glowing in the flush of dawn, which was driving the lingering shadows of night to westward. A colossal globe of gold and azure and sable was slowly revolving under my eyes, which remained in fixed contemplation of an expanding scene that none save a few enraptured mystics or poets have ever aspired to describe.

With the keen draughts of air on my face and in my lungs I began to foreshadow my ultimate goal. The vessel which had so far carried me faithfully and smoothly was now beginning to flag and oscillate in so alarming a manner that I felt my attention was urgently demanded for its mechanical needs. The inscribed directions at once engaged my feverish attention, but so excited and over-hasty was I, that I set to working levers and pulling chains without grasping the full import of my movements. Eagerly I essayed to steer towards the British Isles, on which my gaze was concentrated, but my efforts to utilise this superb masterpiece of mechanism fell below my intentions. In a series of irregular spirals the great airship continued to descend, nor with all my frenzied manipulation of its levers and handles and pulleys could I persuade it to alter its course; down, down it dropped until I realised nothing could save me now from the wilderness of ocean beneath. How cruel my fate! To sail thus from the stars to the Earth only to be engulfed and choked in the barren salt waters! What a mean conclusion to a divine adventure! Not terror, but fierce disappointment was my prevailing emotion, as mounting to the rim of the cabin I made ready to leap at the precise moment the misguided vessel should strike the surface of the sea.

I have only a faint reminiscence of a sharp plunge and recovery; of a glimpse of my aerial chariot being swallowed in the surge; of a dull roar of explosions, before I found myself swimming or floating in calm tepid waters which were all tinged with the carnation and primrose and pearly tints of a glorious summer sunrise, whilst above my head hung the vast impassive dome of heaven flecked with cirrus clouds all gold and saffron. Even so there sprouted in my brain the vain conceit that to perish thus in mid-ocean all aglow with prismatic hues was no ill-fitting termination to the career of a monarch of Meleager. Thus did Icarus reason perhaps when his pinions melted in the envious sunbeams and he fell into the classic sea that henceforth assumed his illustrious name. It would have been in keeping with the late web of wonders spun around me if I were to find old Neptune in person ready to receive me with a bevy of ivory-armed nereids to bewail my comely corpse or an escort of tritons to announce my passing on their raucous conches. Like the hero of the Puritan poet, I still contrived to hug my majesty even in my fall from heaven; and the sick fancy seemed to support me as I straggled in the translucent swell. Involuntarily my eyes closed, as I finally abandoned myself to--what? Surely but to the next miracle, to the next freak of Fortune which had guided her favourite hitherto?

* * * * *

Strange noises echoed in my ears; I was rescued; I recognised my salvage without surprise and without enthusiasm. It was my due. No dolphin-mounted Neptune came to claim me; no nereid or triton stirred in my behalf; but the Man who ascended to the Stars was not destined to die by drowning. I sensed the familiar timbre of English voices close at hand; I felt a firm but kindly grip upon my shoulder; I suffered a painful but dexterous hoisting over a gunwale; I was lying in the stern of a boat, whose rowers were panting from recent effort; I was safe in the custody of my own Herthian countrymen.

VI

Perhaps I can plead insensibility for not recalling my further experiences in the row-boat or in my transmission thence to the steamship _Orissa_, to which the smaller craft belonged. For I remember nothing of the happenings between the moment of my rescue in the water and my deposition in a narrow white-painted cabin of the British vessel. Here my sodden tunic and vest were removed, not without expressions of astonishment on the part of the stewards, to be replaced by some ugly flannel sleeping garments. An attempt on their part to detach the little leather bag and gold chain from my neck was stoutly resisted, and eventually I was permitted to retain them. Some hot vinous potion was poured with well-intentioned effort down my reluctant throat, and perhaps as a result of this characteristic Herthian hospitality, I soon fell into a dreamless refreshing slumber which must have endured some hours.

When I awoke it was still daylight, and on opening my eyes they at once rested on the figure of a man seated by my bedside, who was evidently watching me with the deepest concern. His countenance, which appealed to my fastidious taste, was honest, intelligent and kindly, though its features were rugged and suggestive of humble origin. From his grizzled hair and heavily lined face I concluded him to be on the border-line of old and middle age, perhaps some sixty years old. Our two pairs of eyes met in a searching but friendly survey, after which encounter I smiled graciously, as I should smile upon one of my nobles in Meleager, and at the same time extended my hand for salutation. Naturally it was not kissed--how could I expect such behaviour from a Herthian equal?--but it was clasped with a gentle reassuring pressure that in no wise prejudiced me against my companion, who after a pause began to address me. His voice owned the same quality as his features, and was by no means spoiled by a trace of north-country doric that still lingered in his speech. His opening questions were of the usual type that would be found in the secular rituale (did such a compilation exist), in the section relating to the case of a ship-wrecked waif. To these I replied in a brief and (I fear) obscurantist manner. That my questioner was equally puzzled and interested, I could easily see; so that I found a somewhat malicious amusement in increasing his perplexity. Contrariwise, I soon began to examine my would-be interrogator much in the style I might have employed towards dear old Anzoni or Hiridia. My new friend seemed somewhat surprised, but good-naturedly supplied all the information I sought, whereby I learned that the ship now sheltering me was the _Orissa_, of seven thousand tons' burden, a cargo-boat of the Pheon Line but also carrying first-class passengers, on her way home to Liverpool from Rangoon. It would appear that the officer on the bridge at break of day had seen the airship strike the water and disappear at no great distance on our port side, and had promptly given orders for a boat to be lowered to effect a rescue. On nearing the scene of the recent disaster I had been found floating in an apparently unconscious state but otherwise uninjured by my late shock and immersion. He himself was Doctor Charles Wayne, a native of Cumberland and until lately a medical practitioner in Burmah, where he had spent most of his life in Government service. He was now returning home on a pension in his sixty-second year. He was a widower without children. The _Orissa_ had passed through some exciting experiences in her voyage from Suez to Gibraltar, for on their way they had learned of the declaration of war between Germany and Britain. They had hurried with a sharp look-out by day and with darkened decks at night through the Mediterranean for fear of prowling German cruisers, so that all aboard were impatient to make the mouth of the Mersey without any delay or mishap.

Here indeed was startling news! I had been absent barely seven years in Meleager, and now on my return to the progressive Earth, which I had left prattling of universal peace, I was confronted by the outbreak of a European conflict on a vast scale. There had certainly been wars and rumours of war in plenty during the past half-century, but such barbaric terrors I used to be assured were the mere dying echoes of the moribund volcano of militarism, and that before us there extended a blessed and endless period of peace, wherein moral education, increasing wages and salaries, dissent, teetotalism and other blessings of equal value were to be the special marks of a glorious democratic era that would have no termination.

"They manage these things better in Meleager," I half muttered to myself, whilst Dr Wayne continued to expatiate to me on the bellicose attitude of the Hohenzollerns, on the magnificent patriotism of the French politicians, of the foresight and skill displayed by our own ministers of state, and of the lofty altruism of the Tsar. I listened, but without the attention that the exceptional nature of the case seemed to demand. Somehow it merely appeared to me that the mundane kaleidoscope had only sustained another vigorous revolution, and that the scarlet of human riot and unrest was in reality no more predominant now than in the previous arrangement of its component colours. And yet I should be doing myself an injustice were I to speak of my lack of interest concerning this stupendous piece of news; although at the same time I found myself surveying this newest phase of the world's progress with the cold aloofness of an external critic from some distant planet--which attitude after all exactly fitted my case. Thus I fell once more into a reverie on the relative values of human happiness and human progress, that theme whereon I had so often argued with my councillors in my deserted palace at Tamarida.

I spent a restful night lulled by the throbbing of the engines and the swirling of the waters displaced by our keel. The good doctor slept on the cabin sofa opposite my berth, and once or twice rose in the night hours to attend to my wants. On the following morning I had completely recovered, and news to this effect having been bruited throughout the ship, various uninvited visitors came to inspect the castaway in Dr Wayne's cabin. At my urgent entreaty I was spared a good many of these intrusions, but my kind protector could not well exclude the baboon-faced captain, whose empurpled visage framed in masses of ochre hair thrust itself more than once through the doorway and inquired in rasping accents after my welfare. The bibulous ship's surgeon too invaded my retreat, and expressed a desire to astonish my stomach with special concoctions of his own mixing. Good Dr Wayne did all that was possible to save me from these well-meaning persons, and finally he closed the cabin door on the pretence of my exhaustion. Left thus in peace, my companion began to address me seriously in regard to certain matters. I had so far refrained from giving the name I bore on earth, and was firmly resolved not to betray it, nor could any attempt draw the required information from me. Acknowledging his failure, the Doctor with a sigh of resignation desisted to apply, at the same time begging me to mention some name, a fictitious one if I were so minded, for the benefit of the authorities on landing. The suggestion seemed reasonable enough, and after some further parley I agreed to accept temporarily the absurd name of Theodore King, concerning which Dr Wayne made some jocose observations. In the name then of Theodore King, man rescued at sea in latitude 38° by longitude 18° or thereabouts, was my official report endorsed, and in this nominal disguise I was eventually disembarked at Liverpool stage.

But for the all-pervading sensation caused by the recent declaration of war and the many ramifying minor excitements of the moment, I much doubt whether this ingenious attempt at self-concealment would have succeeded so easily. But for this crucial event I might easily have become a centre of inquisitive interest that would have caused great inconvenience and delay; as it so fell, however, everybody on board the _Orissa_ was far too engrossed with the supreme agitation of the moment to pay much attention to the eccentric, not to say insane, individual who had been picked up from a collapsed aeroplane off the coast of Portugal.

With special insistence and appeal and with arguments whose soundness I was forced to admit, I had even allowed Dr Wayne to clip my super-abundant locks, and had likewise consented to clothe myself in a tolerable suit of blue serge, which he had begged from a good-natured passenger of unusual height. Thus clad and groomed, I managed to leave the boat in company with my careful protector without exciting overmuch curiosity either from my fellow-travellers of the _Orissa_ or from the crowd on the landing-stage. After a certain amount of staring and a good many inquiries, which Dr Wayne skilfully parried, I found myself in a cab loaded with the Doctor's luggage jolting through the squalid streets of Liverpool on our way to a hotel. Here we spent a few hours in a private room, surrounded by masses of newspapers which my companion set to study with intense eagerness.

And here I shall digress a little in order to confront a real difficulty of understanding which must have already struck the reader. How evolved it that a complete stranger like Dr Charles Wayne allowed himself to be so burdened with such an incubus as myself? That is a query, I admit, which none save Dr Wayne is competent to answer, but I suspect even he can hardly solve the difficulty satisfactorily. When he comes to read these pages in due course, he may conceivably be able to say, "It was this," or "It was that, which not only aroused my interest in this mysterious being but also impelled me to serve and obey him henceforward." Yet even then I think he will fail to analyse truthfully the different motives which induced him thus to surrender his own freedom of action and to place himself without a murmur at my disposal. It may have been my piteous condition of solitude; it may have been my almost unearthly beauty of form and face; it may have been my uncanny misfortune out in mid-ocean; it may have been my quiet arrogance and originality of demeanour; it may have been his professional curiosity in a prospective patient;--it may have been one, or some, or all, or none of these things which contributed to his subservience. I cannot tell, and I feel Dr Wayne may be no wiser in the matter than myself. Sometimes I imagine that some faint exhalation of the supernatural must cling around my person, for it does not seem impossible to me that after adventures such as mine a delicate psychical fragrance (if I may so dare to describe that which is in reality indescribable) may permeate my bodily husk. Such an aroma, though but dimly comprehended, might admittedly prove of irresistible attraction to that rare spiritual type of humanity to which I strongly hold Dr Wayne to belong in spite of his homely exterior. I trust he will pardon the apparent impertinence of this statement, since it proceeds from the sole being who has been able to discover and appreciate the inherent sweetness and strength of his soul within. And for my own part I am often haunted by the notion, which I have scarcely the temerity to express in writing, that it was not the mere mundane accident of an accident that led Dr Wayne to embark on the _Orissa_ where later on he was brought into such close contact with myself in my hour of need.

VII

We left Liverpool in the late hours of a brilliant August afternoon on our way to London. Throughout the journey southward I lay back dreamily in my seat, watching each receding vista and appreciating all with the dual interest of recollection and novelty. I preferred to recline thus in silence, and my companion, whose frequent inquisitions of my face in no wise disturbed me, seemed disinclined to resent my mood. Arrived at Euston we proceeded to a certain hotel on the Embankment which perpetuates a historic name and whose latter-day luxury is tempered by the near presence of a mouldy but modernised chapel, that can still claim to be a royal appanage. Dr Wayne had at first demurred to my choice of this particular hostelry, which is decidedly not celebrated for the moderation of its bills; but as in all else his opposition soon relaxed before my repeated desire. Accordingly it was I who engaged what I deemed a convenient and adequate suite of rooms, wherein we installed ourselves without further ado. My new surroundings in many ways attracted me, and we had not been an hour in the hotel before I was ensconced in a corner of the exiguous balcony outside our windows, lost in contemplation of the noble tawny flood swirling seaward through lines of sparkling lamps. Before retiring to sleep, however, I deemed it only fair to allay the evident apprehensions of Dr Wayne concerning expense. Accordingly I produced and untied my small leather wallet, emptying its shower of flashing jewels on to a table beneath a powerful electric lamp. The Doctor, who owned some superficial acquaintance with the science of metallurgy, was amazed at this sudden display of concentrated wealth, and henceforward appeared fully reconciled to our present mode of life.

[I may add here also that in the course of the next few days my friend carried a portion of these superb gems to a diamond merchant in the city who was personally known to him. This London dealer, so Dr Wayne informed me, could not repress his admiration of these glittering trifles, which, in spite of the unfavourable condition of the market induced by the war, he was soon able to dispose of, presumably with a handsome commission for his services. Be that as it may, a sum of eight hundred pounds was thus realised, and this money I insisted on Dr Wayne, to his evident reluctance, placing to his credit at his own bank. "Point d'argent; point de Londres"; at any rate I had solved for the nonce any question of financial difficulties.]

My impressions of London were so confused in this early stage of the great European War that I see little gain in attempting to crystallise my feelings into any sort of description. Indeed, I found it well-nigh impossible to attune my own thoughts to the popular attitude of the moment; but then I never ceased to remind myself that of necessity I was detached from a purely patriotic outlook owing to my long residence in Meleager with its consequent effects on a plastic mind that had definitely grown to regard the Earth and all therein as things left behind for evermore. The excited talk and scandal of the hotel corridors, the sheaves of redundant telegrams affixed from time to time on the public screens, the yells of the newsvendors, the headlines of the popular journals announcing English, French, Russian, Belgian and Servian victories in endless succession; the _brouhaha_ of the streets and the gossip of the boudoir, all alike left me cold and phlegmatic. Dr Wayne used to read aloud to me daily from half-a-dozen papers, for I had signally failed to reacquire my long-suspended love of reading; but I was unable to grasp more than the patent fact that the fate of Paris was hanging in the balance:--Paris, the city of light and leadership; Paris the capital of Saint Louis, of Henry of Navarre, of Louis le Roi Soleil, of Napoleon Buonaparte; Paris, the erstwhile acme of my earthly ideals. Doubtless it was my own obliquity and rustiness of mind that caused this lamentable lack of comprehension of the situation as a whole, and prevented me from viewing it through those same rosy glasses of insular humour wherewith the bulk of my countrymen were regarding the trend of passing events on the Continent. I knew myself to be at best an amphibian, with my body on Earth and my heart in Meleager, yet capable of a residence in either planet. I felt lost and lonely in this city of reek and confusion, whose inhabitants probably outnumbered the whole tale of my own forsaken people. After a week or so I ceased to find solace in wandering amid streets and churches and galleries, and spent more hours than ever in musing with my eyes directed towards the river, the shipping and the steeples that clove the hot blue August sky. Dr Wayne meanwhile was busied with many matters, such matters as would presumably engage the attention of a time-expired Indian public servant; and from my peculiar tincture of indifference I was equally resigned to his absence or his presence, provided only he did not desert me, of which contingency I had no fear whatsoever.

With the sudden salvation of Paris at a critical moment and the ensuing German retreat from the Marne, the cloud of foreboding was partially lifted from me, without however quickening any fresh growth of interest within. Yet I listened to Dr Wayne's daily budget of news, and comported myself with conventional intelligence on the rare occasions that I found myself brought into contact with the Doctor's friends, who apparently regarded me as an interesting case, a sort of God's fool, in Dr Wayne's charge, in which impression I was naturally averse to undeceive them, for such a view at present suited my comfort and convenience.

September was now well advanced, and I much doubt if ever I should have achieved the desire, still less the determination, to leave a place I felt too languid to dislike but for a critical incident which I was half-hoping, half-dreading to occur. One afternoon Dr Wayne entered my room in an excited state and with unwonted heat began to dilate on a curious adventure he had just experienced in the hotel itself. It seems that on his return he noticed in the vestibule of the hall two diminutive swarthy foreigners seated in the middle of a miscellaneous mass of rugs, shawls, laces, cushions, ornaments of brass and other objects, all of Oriental appearance, though the Doctor assured me of obvious British or German manufacture. Dr Wayne, who, as I have already hinted, was an enthusiastic patriot, became somewhat nettled on seeing all this trumpery displayed for sale during so serious an epoch, albeit several expensively dressed women were already hovering round the men and their wares, like moths attracted to some sugary compound. The vendors, who had graceful manners and spoke fluent though broken English, called themselves vaguely "Indians," which statement on Dr Wayne's searching questions they qualified by remarking they were loyal subjects of the Indian Empire. The Doctor's rising suspicions were by no means appeased by this explanation; but on finding that the hotel servants as well as the hovering females resented his method of cross-examination, and were inclined to champion these Eastern peddlers, he ultimately desisted and retreated upstairs to vent his tale into my ears. I listened to him with that polite aloofness which has grown to be a second habit of nature with me, at first with faint attention, but ere long as he proceeded with intense though concealed agitation. For the detailed description of the pair of merchants in the hall below promptly convinced me of the accuracy of my first impression--that these Indian peddlers were no other than envoys from Meleager who had traced their erring King hither.

I wonder if my reader has ever experienced Fear. And by Fear I do not mean mere fright, or terror, or alarm, or other mental spasms with which Fear is so often vulgarly confused. If he reads Mr Kipling's poems about Mowgli, the little hunter of the jungle, he will obtain some inkling of that mysterious emotion which is in reality man's tribute to a relentless destiny.

"Very softly down the glade runs a waiting watching shade,
And the whisper spreads and widens far and near;
And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now--
He is Fear, O little Hunter, he is Fear!

And thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side
Hammers: Fear, O little Hunter--this is Fear."

Yes, Fear in one aspect is a physical recognition of the existence and the approach of the Unknown; and its external symptoms are first of all an involuntary erection of the hair of the head, a sensation of intense heat in the scalp and a subsequent exudation of chill sweat over the body, which last offers some relief to the internal or psychical lesion caused by Fear. I endured it then, as I suddenly realised in the midst of Dr Wayne's half-humorous discourse that I was a fly caught in the web of Fate; a victim rotating on the wheel of destiny; an atom of humanity that was urgently required for the completion of some great cosmic design....

It passed; thank God, It passed; and moreover It left me stronger and wiser than before. Very likely those honest penetrating grey eyes of my companion detected my fleeting wave of anguish, but he only kept an eloquent silence; and when a few minutes later I expressed a wish to descend and interview these alleged Indian wanderers, he offered neither comment nor opposition.

On reaching the vestibule I found the two foreign traders conversing amiably with a youthful frock-coated manager, for the fashionable ladies had evacuated the hall in pursuit of the tea and the music which were being provided in a distant chamber. At my approach the Indians took no farther notice of me than by smiling blandly and by indicating the various articles spread at their feet. Meanwhile the supercilious young manager addressed me: "Your friend Dr Wayne seems to think we are encouraging spies or bad characters here; but so far as I can judge, these men are only Indian hucksters, and several of our ladies are very pleased with the bargains they have bought this afternoon. What do you make of them, sir?"

"I believe," said I slowly, envisaging the two Meleagrian nobles, envoys to our Earth disguised in the mean garments of Oriental mountebanks, "from their features and their dress these men hail from the Nicobar Islands, where I once held an official post."

And in the most natural and condescending manner I could command I straightway began to question the two smiling pseudo-merchants in Meleagrian.

"Are you here in order to kill me?"

To which sentence with a grin of pleased recognition and a sweeping obeisance the elder of the pair replied with downcast eyes:

"Far be such evil thoughts from us! We seek to entreat your Majesty's return to your sorrowing subjects in Meleager!"

"Aha!" cried I triumphantly in English to the admiring clerk; "they _are_ Nicobarians!" (I might just as safely have styled them Baratarians so far as he was concerned!) "I thought I could not be mistaken."

And thus the serious farce continued to be enacted for some little time in the presence of an outsider, all blissfully ignorant of the fact that he was over-hearing a colloquy of prime importance between two ambassadors of another planet and their run-away king.

I need not add that I was successful in convincing the worthy manager of the genuine character and zealous loyalty of these two dwellers in one of the obscure outlying dependencies of our Indian Empire, so that he was in excellent temper when a sudden summons called him away to the telephone. His withdrawal enabled us to continue our conversation with greater ease, my interlocutors imploring me to reconsider my decision to remain on Earth. Not to prolong this narrative, I shall only add here that finally I consented to meet these envoys again after an interval of one month, by which date I hoped to arrive at a definite decision as to my future course of action. In any event, I pleaded for a breathing-space wherein to digest all the extraordinary adventures of the past few months. Finally, though not over-willingly, they consented to this respite, and then in token of our mutual pact we three simultaneously in accordance with the Meleagrian practice touched our breasts with all ten fingers, a gesture that implies a most solemn oath in cases where the more elaborate ritual is undesirable or difficult to effect.

My last question was directed to their possible difficulty in tracing my whereabouts, for having formed no plans I could not therefore inform them of my movements. But such an objection evidently offered no difficulties to the Meleagrians who only smiled and straightway began to proffer me certain of their goods with a noisy plausibility that formed a perfect imitation of the methods of that humble class whose functions and personality they had usurped. I at once set to chaffer with affected eagerness, with the result that a returning queue of bedizened leaders of fashion, the majority of them with cigarettes in their mouths, entered the hall in time to observe a tall, fair and distinguished-looking gentleman (obviously an Englishman) finally decide to purchase for three guineas a long, soft chuddah shawl which its vendor was folding and twirling before his eyes with easy grace. Having secured my shawl with the requisite cash, the second trader now sidled towards me holding in both his slender brown hands an ornamental casket which he pressed upon me with many encomiums in quaint broken English. A mere flicker of light in the tail of his eye afforded me the necessary hint to accept the box, for which I paid a pound or so. The Indian then wrapped my bargain with much ceremony in blue crinkled paper and carefully deposited it in my hands, wherein it lay heavy as lead. There followed a casual nod on my part, met by elegant salaams to the wealthy sahib, and the next moment I was ascending the staircase with my shawl and box, pursued by the inquiring glances of the astonished ring of ladies.

On gaining my bedroom I cautiously unlocked the casket, which I found was filled to overflowing with English sovereigns and bank-notes. I did not happen to need them, but at least I was touched by the agreeable thought that the donors did not desire their king to suffer the straits of penury in the coming interval of waiting.

VIII

I found Dr Wayne quite ready to acquiesce in my newly formed decision to leave London; indeed, I fancy he still owned some qualms concerning the style and expense of our present abode. The only question that now remained was whither should we proceed. It was the Doctor and not myself who ultimately settled this point, for he had set to search the advertisement columns of his numerous journals, and after much hesitation had lighted on the notice of a Welsh hotel which on reflection commended itself also to my choice. The place was named Glanymôr and was situated on the southern shores of Cardigan Bay at a convenient distance from a small county town. It doubtless possessed the double advantage of quiet and remoteness, the two qualities of locale I especially demanded, so that after some farther discussion I asked Dr Wayne to make the necessary arrangements for our proposed sojourn there. In four days' time therefore from the date of the incident of the Indian peddlers, we were able to leave Paddington Station on our way towards the spot selected, where I looked to obtain the peace and solitude essential for me to refresh my jaded brain and to provoke it to some definite conclusion. I left London without a pang of regret, but also without any pleasurable enthusiasm for the change of air and scene I was seeking; so languid and detached was my outlook towards the future.