The Collected Stories

by Earl

He was still fuming a few minutes later when a cautious knock on the door heralded the entrance of Dapper Mike.

  “Hello, Mike. What’s on your mind?”

  Mike swallowed. “I was just wondering, Big Fellow. Maybe we’d better sort of lay low with that new gambling joint. They say—” He stopped to swallow again.

  “Yes, what?” urged Marlin.

  “They say he’s in town!”

  “You mean that damned Invisible Robinhood?” roared the Big Fellow. “Who says he’s in town?”

  “I got it from Joe. Joe got it from Barney. Barney says they’re talking about it down at headquarters. I’m not taking any chances, Big Fellow.” Mike glanced around the room nervously. “No soap on our deal.”

  Marlin arose with studied calm, and sauntered to his wall-safe, behind a picture of cows in a field. “You know what I have in here, Mike,” he said, twirling the combination. “Blackmail papers on you that—”

  “Don’t open that!” almost screamed the gambler. “He may be in this room now, waiting for that! Didn’t you read the Westavia case?—how he let Walser open his private safe, then knocked him out and used the stuff in court? What’s in your safe can ruin you and me and half the town. Don’t open it!”

  Marlin hesitated and then drew back, replacing the picture. His eyes sneaked around the room apprehensively. He flushed at Mike’s sober nod.

  “Oh, get out, you damned chicken!” Marlin roared. “Get out!”

  Later in the day, Marlin was speaking to his two closest henchmen. “21’s place gets a nice bomb, see? And Dapper Mike gets a slug in the back. They’ve both turned yellow. Got it straight, boys?”

  “No, we ain’t!” said one of the two gunmen flatly. “We’re not doing any dirty work right now. At Westavia, he got the whole works, just tracing down a guy who bumped off another guy.”

  “You see, boss,” said the other gunman, “the Invisible Robinhood’s in town!”

  BUT at that moment, Lyle Trent was far from that city, and had no idea of coming to it. He was in one of his several secret quarters, talking with Ted Marne, the only man who knew where those places were.

  “Your publicity campaign for me has been a marvelous success, Marne,” said Trent.

  “I’ll say it has!” boasted the reporter. “You’ve been Page One for eight months. My best line, the one I get in every time, is—‘Remember, he may be at your side this very minute!’ I’ll bet everyone shivers ten times a day, thinking of that.” He grimaced. “In fact, I’ve got to believing it myself. I shiver sometimes when I know you aren’t around!”

  Trent chuckled. “Guilty conscience, Marne? But I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve followed me around the country like a faithful dog, as my personal press agent. You’ve been in danger, too.”

  “Don’t I know it!” responded the reporter. “I had to think fast when the boys at Westavia wanted to take me for a ride. It was easy, though. I just looked around a little and said, ‘Okay, Robinhood, give ’em the works!’ You should have seen them duck and run.”

  He burst out suddenly.

  “But say what do you mean I followed you around? Didn’t I plan the whole thing? Didn’t I insist on jumping from one corner to the other of the country, so as to give people the idea that you were everywhere? Let me tell you, Trent, it’s worked. You’re in every city in the country, at all times, in the minds of all those who have reason to fear your coming. You’ve started reforms in cities you’ve never been within a hundred miles of!”

  “You’re right, Marne,” agreed Trent. “Some little town down south sent me a check for a thousand dollars for driving out their worst local character, a cruel landlord, who claimed a voice in his ear kept haunting him till he fled. Yet I was never there.” Marne puffed at an expensive cigar contentedly. “And don’t think you’re known just here in America. I’ve been releasing all my accounts to the International Service. Why, I’ll bet there isn’t a soul on God’s green earth that hasn’t heard of the Invisible Robinhood, even the big-wigs in Europe—”

  Trent interrupted. “Say that again!”

  “I said, ‘even the big-wigs in Europe’; why?”

  “What’s doing in Europe at the present?”

  “Everything rotten that you can think of,” retorted Marne. “For one thing, there’s a big war brewing. The undeclared war going on at present is just the preliminary for the big bout which may break any minute—”

  “War!” ejaculated the bodiless voice of Trent. “The most senseless folly of mankind. Innocent people murdered and impoverished. Suffering, misery, famine—”

  “Yeah. But what can you do about it?”

  A steel-like hand gripped Marne’s shoulder, half dragging him to his feet. “Start packing, Marne. We’re going to Europe!”

  “Aw, Trent, you can’t—”

  “Make reservations on the Normandie,” commanded the incisive voice of the unseen man.

  Marne shrugged and then grinned. “One or two staterooms, Trent?”

  CHAPTER V

  The Invisible Robinhood’s Secret

  THE Leader condescended to read the newspaper account, suitably translated, that his Foreign Minister handed him with a grim look.

  “European War Averted!” boldly stated the headline.

  It went on. “The Facts, by Ted Marne. In the past four months, the European situation has changed from a powder-keg ready to blow sky-high to a farce of tangled intrigue. Five Big Powers, ready at any moment for attack or defense, are today ready for neither. Their best and most secret offense plans are the common knowledge of every country’s capital.

  “What Power planned to cross what mountain pass to attack what little thorn in its side? Everybody knows! What gigantic army was ready to invade what open territory to get at what enemy for a killing blow, all in secret? Everybody knows! Every man in the street knows all the other great military coups laboriously plotted out by would-be Napoleons.

  “And how is this all known? Because the Invisible Robinhood, humanity’s champion, stole all those guarded plans from under their respective noses and mailed printed copies everywhere except Timbuctoo. The Timbuctooans aren’t particularly interested.

  “Unseen, silent as a ghost, quick as a tiger, the Invisible Robinhood sees all, hears all, knows all. All you ministers of murder you crack-pot war-lords, you dispensers of cannon fodder—are under his watchful, cunning eye. You can’t make a move he doesn’t know of. You can’t plan a single big drive or secret offensive. His mailed fist is mightier than yours. Remember—he may be at your elbow this very minute!”

  “So!” grunted The Leader. “It is this Invisible Robinhood who gave our great triple attack plan, on which our staff worked for three years, to our enemies, and not the ten spies we shot. We must get him out of the way, or we will never be able to make war.”

  “That will not be easy,” said the Foreign Minister. “He is as described—unseen, unheard.” He glanced around uneasily, and shivered. “He is everywhere—and nowhere!”

  The Leader frowned. “Who is this Ted Marne? Where is he?”

  “His only confidant. We have checked his movements.” The Foreign Minister leaned forward. “Perhaps we can strike at the Invisible Robinhood through him. He is in this city at present. We have papers—”

  The Minister drew them from his portfolio. “These are facsimiles of our plans, sent to other capitals, signed by him. That makes him a spy! We can shoot Ted Marne! Then we can concentrate on tracking down the Invisible Robinhood.”

  “Good!” exclaimed The Leader. “Have Marne arrested and brought here for a quick trial and sentence.”

  An hour later, Ted Marne was ushered into The Leader’s presence, between two rows of armed guards. The Leader’s eyes were cold. Marne glared back defiantly.

  “You can’t do anything to me!” he said confidently. “I’m an American citizen.”

  “You’re a spy!” shot back The Leader. “I have proof here. These papers—”

  He rea
ched to the side of his desk, but there was nothing there. The Leader looked puzzled, then dumbfounded, for no one had been in the room, outside of his trusted personal guard, since the Foreign Minister had left.

  At that moment loud voices sounded from the corridor and a man burst in. He was the American consul. “I’ve been informed,” he snapped, “that one Ted Marne is unlawfully held here, under suspicion as a spy. Have you any proof? If not, free him immediately.”

  “Where can those papers be?” appealed The Leader to his minister. “Who could have taken them?”

  “The Invisible Robinhood, of course!” grinned Ted Marne. “Didn’t I tell you he might be at your elbow?”

  “Guards, lock the doors!” roared The Leader. “We’ll get him!”

  “You won’t lock the doors on us!” stormed the American consul. “Who do you think you are?” Helplessly, The Leader watched as the consul and Ted Marne stalked out. They walked strangely apart, as though a third, unseen, man were between them.

  IT was the day, and all day Leda Norris was in a fever of impatience. Would he keep his promise to come back once a year, on the anniversary of their first meeting?

  The hours passed. Night came. Eleven o’clock. Leda was now alone in her room. One minute to twelve. . . .

  The curtains rustled at the window. Soft footfalls came toward her.

  “Lyle!”

  “Leda!”

  The voice came from just before her, but when she stretched out her arms, involuntarily, she felt nothing. She heard him step to the side.

  “No, Leda. We mustn’t. Sit down and I’ll talk to you for a while.”

  The girl obediently sat down, then looked at the opposite chair. “I’m glad you remembered, Lyle. Just to hear your voice—” She broke off and began again. “The Invisible Robinhood! I’ve read all about you. Every word, over and over. I’m proud of you, Lyle. You’re doing more good in this world than any one man before in history!”

  “Only because of my power of invisibility,” returned Trent. “Any other decent man could do the same. But when I’m gone, my secret goes with me. It’s too dangerous, in the wrong hands. The process may never be discovered again. I found it only because of that accident, which gave me the clue—one chance out of a million. So it was a lucky accident—but a cursed one too!”

  His voice was surprisingly vehement on the last phrase.

  “Why do you say that, Lyle?”

  “Because it’s kept me from you, Leda!”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Silence fell between them. The silence of two souls who are meant for each other, but are kept apart by the strange workings of destiny.

  Leda felt like crying bitterly, as she so often had since that last time, but conquered her emotion bravely, knowing he would want her to.

  She stared fixedly at the empty chair in which he sat. “I can almost picture you there, Lyle,” she murmured. “Your tall, straight body—grave, boyish face—curly hair—Lyle! I’m never to see you again, in all my life?”

  “Never!” said Trent, almost in a croak.

  LATER, when Trent returned to his rooms, Marne was waiting for him.

  “Say, Trent, I’ve got a great idea!” the reporter chortled. “I’m going to run your picture! What’s publicity without pix? I’m going to run a full rotogravure pic of you, in color—” He laughed ringingly. “Yeah, Trent, all in grey! Can’t you just picture people looking at a ten-by-twelve blank space labeled ‘The Invisible Robinhood’ and—”

  Marne choked on his laugh. Somehow he sensed the air of gloom surrounding the other. He had been with him long enough to know his moods by a subtle aura he radiated.

  “Sorry, Trent,” mumbled Marne. “Seen Leda, eh? You know, that girl really loves you. She’s written me a million letters, asking about you, Jelling me to take good care of you. Trent, aren’t you making a mistake? Why not marry her? You could take her with you. She’d follow you anywhere—to Mars, even, if you started a reform there. And you’d be happier, too. I know it’s none of my business, but—”

  “Marne,” said the unseen man in a low, harsh voice, “you’ve never seen me, and you’ve often wondered why, I know. You know the story of the accident at Leyden that gave me the secret of invisibility. Look!—”

  A switch snapped. With startling abruptness, Marne saw a figure before him. It was completely sheathed in what looked like fine chain-mail. The gauntleted hands reached up to unfasten the helmetlike hood. Marne gasped.

  The face revealed was hideous. Great burn-scars obliterated what had once been a strong, handsome face. There was little nose or hair. Only purple folds of lumpy scar-tissue.

  “Leda does not know,” said Lyle Trent, replacing the hood.

  Ted Marne bowed his head in his hands. He felt like crying, but went out and got drunk instead.

  THE END

  [*] This is a very logical means of invisibility. Photons, recently discovered, are corpuscles of light energy, which like radio, travel in wave lengths, rather than like the waves of the sea, i.e., they are associated mathematical quantities. Photons, or Light Quanta, as they were formerly called, are ejected from alkaline metals at high speed, depending upon the frequency of the light. Einstein has shown that a photon has kinetic energy, which therefore would theoretically react as Lyle Trent’s discovery revealed to him. Provided the metallic ejection medium was present, the result would be invisibility through lack of interception of the light quanta.—Ed.

  WHERE ETERNITY ENDS

  Nothing but deaf ears would the world lend to Dr. Broniun’s pleas—deaf ears to his theory of the approach of the strangest doom ever to threaten an entire Solar System! But Dr. Bronzun and his faithful followers would fight for Salvation—despite the opposition of Crodell—death master of the universe, and an unbelieving world that must be saved—from its own stupidity!

  CHAPTER I

  OPPOSITION

  ROLAN FOSTAR piloted his trim aerocar high in the speed lanes, under the night sky of summer, barren of stars. Below his course, in successive areas marked by glowing air-buoys, hummed the slower craft. Now and then huge flying wings lumbered by, laden heavily. Much of the freight commerce of 2450 A.D. was carried by air, to all parts of the Earth.

  Yorkopolis, largest city of Earth, sprawled underneath the busy aircraft. The Manhattan of previous centuries had spilled over into surrounding territory, like a sluggish monster of metal and stone. At its edge, the atomic-energy blasts of rockets luridly etched slim spires against the black sky as space craft catapulted up.

  Man had burst his two-dimensional prison five hundred years before. His domain included space and the planets.

  But Rolan Fostar scarcely noticed all this, familiar with it since birth. His thoughts were not of Man’s present, but the future. His eyes probed the black, brooding vault of sky, starless save for three of the planets.

  What mystery lay up there, in the Beyond? What ominous, looming menace?

  His young, strong body was tense with that wonder. His lean and determined face, tanned by long hours of space sunlight, reflected challenge—challenge against fate, whatever it held in store. Rolan Fostar had been cut in the pattern of those who bend but never break. His clear blue eyes, calm but capable of fire, looked upon the cosmos as a vast proving-ground for human endeavor. His one creed was that the race could, and must go on, against all the obstacles of time, space, and destiny.

  IN A FEW more minutes he had reached his destination, a towering edifice of Martian greenstone. It housed the offices of Interplanetary Real Estate Corporation, the largest of its kind in that age. Fostar brought his aerocar down deftly on the broad landing roof, and climbed out.

  A uniformed attendant approached. “Your business, sir?” he asked politely.

  “I’m from Dr. Bronzun’s laboratory,” stated Fostar. “Marten Crodell wishes to see me.”

  “I will inform him you are here. You may wait up here, or down below in the reception room, as you wish.”

  “I�
��ll wait here,” returned Fostar, striding toward the roof’s parapet. He leaned on it, gazing down at the widespread city. But his eyes turned upward, as though to a magnet. Up there lay the Beyond, the last frontier of the known universe.

  In the Beyond lay—nothing! Not even stars. Just garnet Mars glinted up there, and yellow Saturn and scintillant Venus, the latter already setting, following the sun. Through the dark night there would be only the two planets and the moon, which was just now rising. It loomed up like a great yellow lamp, shedding a pale glow.

  But no stars!

  Earth’s night face was, at this season, looking directly out into the Beyond. Six months later, during winter, the night firmament would be a blaze of stars, all those stars that lay back of the Earth and sun. For Earth was at the edge of the universe.

  At the Edge of Space!

  FOSTAR’S eye caught a slight movement in the shadows a few feet away. Startled, he looked into the face of a girl, as the moon’s first beam crept over the balustrade.

  A queer shock went through him. She seemed to blend with the setting, eerily. Her face was almost elfin, oval and softly angular. Her lips were half parted in astonishment, and her eyes were deep pools in which the moonlight danced and came out again in amber shades. By her attitude, Fostar guessed that she had been as startled as he. He heard her sharp gasp.

  “I’m sorry I frightened you,” he murmured. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t frightened,” she said, a little defiantly. Her voice was low, musical. Then, as though an explanation were required, she added, “I was just looking up in the sky, and wondering—” But she broke off the sentence, with an odd little shake of her auburn-haired head.

  “Wondering what? What lies up there in the Beyond?” asked Fostar, with quickening interest. “I’ve often done that,” he went on, seeing her glance of surprise. “The edge of space, as we know it, is at our doorstep. We are probably the only intelligent beings who have ever been this close!”