by L. P. Davies
Lee’s uncle had bought the farm from which the farmer had vanished long ago. He built his laboratory upon the precise spot of disappearance because he believed the farmer must inadvertently have stumbled upon the doorway to Dimension A. And now it seemed that Lee’s uncle and his assistant had also found that door, and gone through it. But to where? To what kind of place? My mind raced ahead. Would there be fields and trees there, just like these fields now? And people … Would people live there? What would they look like? I dragged myself away from this wild train of thought.
“… not the first to put forward such a theory,” Mr. Leming was saying conversationally. “Einstein propounded a similar one. But Maver took it a step further. He suggested that our world was in contact with Dimension A at certain static points. Under certain conditions those points of contact became manifest. Any thing or person who happens to be on the spot at the time would fall or be sucked through the dividing wall.”
“He has a collection of papers and newspaper cuttings,” said Lee, intent upon overtaking a lumbering farm truck. “Including the one about the farmer in Tennessee. There are hundreds of them …”
“There are indeed many classic examples,” Mr. Leming agreed. “The small boy who walked across the virgin snow of a farmyard to vanish—if I may be forgiven for employing an over-worked phrase—into thin air, his footprints in the snow ceasing abruptly. And we have to remember that in this country alone on an average day twenty-five people disappear and are never seen or heard of again. Maver believed that some of them, not all, had been drawn into Dimension A. It is obvious why he selected Haweford Farm as the site for his experiments. It is equally obvious that Miller believes those experiments were successful.”
“They must have been,” Lee said tonelessly.
“I am inclined to agree, but I must reserve final judgment until I have examined the laboratory and its contents for myself. And if I am able to satisfy myself …” He smiled briefly with little mirth. “We will have an explanation that can be offered neither to the police nor to the Special Branch.”
The car rocked over a hump-backed bridge. Cottages clustered tightly in the hollow beyond. There were a few shops, I remember, a tavern with a colourful sign—a knight on horseback with lance at a dragon’s throat (would there be animals in Dimension A?) and a church with a squat grey tower.
A short distance beyond the village, Lee slowed. Then he swung off the road between white-painted gates to draw up in front of a half-timbered, high-gabled house that was far removed from my own private picture of what a farmhouse should look like. But I was later to find that Professor Maver had had the old thatched roof removed and replaced with red tiles, and that two new wings had been added. In the old days, it seemed, the place had been little larger than a cottage.
We climbed out into the sunshine, Mr. Leming stretching, flexing his arms, and gazing about him with interest.
“The air,” he said. “One can smell the salt of the sea. Or is that my imagination?”
Lee caught my eye, smiled fractionally, then pointed towards a low, flat-topped building that squatted rather than nestled, ungainly and out of place in its rural setting, in the deep shadow of a cluster of trees at the far end of guile a large cobbled yard.
“The lab,” he explained tersely.
Made of grey concrete, it was an ugly, unornamented, windowless construction that reminded me of the pictures I had seen of the old war-time air-raid shelters. I think it was the stark contrast between its alien, efficient-looking ugliness and the surrounding greenery that gave the impression of something dangerous and menacing.
“Yes.” Mr. Leming gave the place little more than a cursory glance, being more concerned with bis inspection of the house. “All in good time, Miller. First things first. One can best devote one’s concentration to a problem when one’s creature comforts have first been satisfied.”
Then he reached to lift his case from the car. Lee beat him to it and then led the way indoors. The housekeeper was a plump-cheeked country woman whose starched white apron never, during all the time I knew her, became creased or dirtied. For someone who lived in the country she was unusually retiring, never inquisitive, never perturbed, going about her work as if nothing unusual had happened. She took the small influx of guests in her stride. Bedrooms had been prepared—in a soft, pleasant burr, she gave us directions—and a meal had been laid ready.
It was mainly a silent meal, Lee’s polite attempt at conversation drying up in the face of Mr. Leming’s complete preoccupation with the food. We finished eating about the same time.
Leaning back, napkin to moustache, Mr. Leming expressed satisfaction with the meal and praise for its preparation.
“Excellent, Miller. Your uncle has found himself a treasure. An estimable woman, the housekeeper. In the olden days, John—your uncle—and I often discussed the pros and cons of marriage. We both agreed, I recall, that we were cut out for bachelorhood. Marriage is not for dedicated scientists. The marital state makes for rigidity of routine.”
He pushed his chair back.
“And now I would like to see the laboratory.”
CHAPTER TWO
We left the house by a side door, passed through a trellis-work arch of some purple climbing flowers, and emerged into the late afternoon sunshine of the cobbled yard. Mr. Leming, it seemed, had decided upon a calm, leisurely approach to the problem at hand. In no hurry to get to the laboratory he strolled along slowly, gazing about him with interest as he had done upon his arrival, commenting upon a derelict pigsty, asking if the brick building behind had once been a stable, stooping to pinch at a greeny-yellow clump of pyrethrum that had taken root between the cobbles, lifting his fingers to his nose, and inhaling pleasurably. And gazing about him, he was the one who first saw the small, stoutish man wearing a soft hat and a belted fawn raincoat who was making his way up the drive.
“The Special Branch bloke!” Lee exclaimed with dismay.
Mr. Leming peered through his glasses. “The walk and the face seem familiar. Yes,” he said as the man came nearer, “I have had dealings with him before. Barnett. A reasonable man, as I recall.” He became brisk. “I will handle this, Miller.”
He strode towards the raincoated man, and the two met, hesitated and shook hands.
“I didn’t know he was still hanging about,” Lee said with some bitterness. “Looks like he must have had someone watching the blasted place. Keeping his eyes open for Russians with snow on their boots … ‘Defected behind the Iron Curtain.’ He must be mad! Still”—he shrugged—“it has been done. I suppose they have to consider the possibility.” He changed his tone. “Thanks for bringing your boss down, Gerald.”
“He didn’t need any persuading,” I said.
“I feel better now he’s here. Something solid—you know. A shoulder to lean on. I hope to God he can make some sense of that equipment in the lab.” Lee gestured apologetically, the sun glinting on his glasses. “All this weird Dimension A stuff—I’m sorry it had to be sprung on you like that. I couldn’t tell you about it before because Uncle John said it would be better if I didn’t. He was afraid of it finding its way into the scarlet press. Not that he would have minded being laughed at—he never did—but he didn’t want reporters hanging round.” He grinned. “I must say I admired the way you took it in your stride back there in the car. You hardly batted an eyelid.”
“It took me all my time. If it had been anyone but Leming I would have laughed in his face.”
“I know. Science fiction stuff for the birds. A step or two beyond flying saucers. All the trimmings—the mad scientist on the deserted farm. Only Uncle John wasn’t mad, and this place isn’t all that deserted. It’s not too bad for me, I’ve been reared on it. The way he used to explain things made it easier to understand. And on top of it all, there’s that pile of cuttings. I mean, we know all these people vanish. They’ve got to go somewhere. And Einstein came up with the idea first. He was no fool. More things in heaven and earth,
Gerald … Only Dimension A, by all accounts, is neither of those places.”
He kicked at a loose stone. “I’m babbling. Not making sense.”
“You are,” I tried to assure him.
The stone rattled across the cobbles. “One-way tickets,” he said, watching it. “Did Uncle John and Adam only have one-way tickets?” He turned to look towards where the two men had finished their conversation. The Special Branch man was making his way back down the drive; Leming was returning in our direction. “I hope to God he will be able to tell me,” Lee said fervently.
“So far so good,” Mr. Leming observed as he joined us. He radiated great self-satisfaction. “Barnett was inclined to be annoyed that you had ignored his instructions, Miller. I was able to make him understand that you couldn’t be expected to sit back doing nothing. Your own words, as I recall. I informed him, which is true enough, that I am here along with my assistant in a purely scientific capacity. My reputation being what it is, he accepted the explanation without question. He didn’t see fit to explain why he is keeping the farm under observation. But that is obvious. I went to some pains to impress upon him that I have known Professor Maver for a very long time and that there can be no question of defection. Now”—he laid one large white hand in an almost fatherly gesture on Lee’s shoulder—“shall we take a look at the laboratory?”
The narrow door was set deep in the concrete. Of unpainted steel, rusted at the corners, it screeched on unoiled hinges when Lee pushed it open. He switched on a light before stepping aside for us to enter. Wooden packing cases, all empty by the looks of them, were stacked against two walls of the narrow, cheerless room. There was a pile of straw and wood shavings in one corner. Facing us, in the opposite corner, was another metal door. Lee opened it and reached inside to switch on more lights before drawing” Leming’s attention to the smashed lock. I fretted with impatience during his close examination.
“No question of the catch having dropped, Miller?” he asked finally.
“With no one in the lab, sir?” Lee shook his head. “No. Although the police say that is what must have happened.”
“Seeking the only rational explanation,” the older man said dryly. “I think I agree with you again, Miller.”
He stepped over the threshold, and I followed Lee into the laboratory.
Immediately facing us were three contrivances— the first things I noticed—arranged in the shape of a triangle on the concrete floor, and set about four feet apart from each other. All three were identical, standing about a foot high. Each consisted of a metal cylinder topped with a white dome resembling a large inverted eggshell, from the top of which projected a thin silvery filament. The whole was mounted on a metal tripod that as far as I could see was firmly attached to the floor.
Cables snaked from the base of each device, leading to what appeared to be separate groups of equipment arranged on wooden benches that occupied two walls of the room. Against the near wall were three large generators—at least I was able to identify those—and what seemed to be the three accompanying transformers. Cables from these were slung along hooks fastened in the wall, looped along them roughly, leading to the three banks of apparatus. Each bank, I could see, had its own control panel, each alike in appearance, each filled with an incomprehensible array of dials and indicators. There was the peculiar, unmistakable tang of electricity, the same dry smell one gets from-the back of a television set.
Stepping carefully over the cables, Mr. Leming made his way to the benches and pored intently over one of the panels. He rapped his thumb-nail on the glass face of a dial, fingered a switch, stooped to peer at the markings of some kind of sliding scale, nodded to himself and, still stooping, moved along to the next panel, which he subjected to the same close scrutiny.
“Notes,” he said tersely without turning from his inspection of the third and last panel. “Did he keep notes?”
“I think he did, sir.” Lee stepped across the cables towards the first panel. “I was never allowed in here, so I can’t say for sure. Certainly, there were none in the house. But Mrs. Robson said that the police took away some pieces of charred paper from this bench. It looks as if there’s been a fire in this section.”
“I had already discovered that,” Leming said dryly.
I went to stand at Lee’s side. Now I could see where the surface of the wooden bench was charred, where some of the cables had been burned through, where heat had scorched the plastic panel.
Leming turned from his scrutiny of the last panel to go across to the triangle of devices. Kneeling, heedless of immaculate trousers, on the dusty floor, he touched them with an experimental finger, then lowered his head until his face almost touched the ground while he peered beneath each white dome in turn. Grunting, he came laboriously to his feet again, dusted off his knees, and then spared a few moments in examining the generators and transformers before returning to the equipment on the benches.
This time he pressed a switch. Behind me, one of the generators started to hum, softly at first; then the sound increased. A step along the bench, a second switch depressed, and another generator was brought into play. Another switch, and now all three were in action. The muted roar filling the room made the floor tremble under my feet.
I think I expected something to happen there and then. From Lee’s expression, he probably felt the same. We watched Leming as he went unhurriedly about his inspection, moving from panel to panel, poring over dials. He seemed to be comparing readings, spending the greater part of his time over the charred front of the first bank of equipment. Finally, he went quickly back along the benches, flicking up switches. The generators died. Removing his spectacles, he turned to look at Lee.
‘The first conclusion to be drawn,” he said, “is an obvious one. This room is impregnable. Which means that your uncle and his assistant left by some other way than the door over there. We have to assume that they found another door, that to an adjoining dimension. At the moment, that other door is closed. Our first aim must be to open it again so that they may return.
“I did warn you, Miller, that I have no great knowledge of electronics. Fortunately, this mass of apparatus is not as complicated as it appears at first sight. Its purpose is simply to produce a complex magnetic field of varying intensity.
“Briefly, each of the three sections of equipment is connected with one of those poles on the floor. Each panel controls the power fed to its respective pole. Each pole will, when activated, generate a magnetic field. The three fields will combine to form the complex pattern which must be the door. Can you follow that?”
Lee nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, the controls on two of the panels have been locked in one position. This means that we will only be concerned with the current controlled by the remaining panel. Unfortunately, it is this first section which has suffered damage. I am puzzled as how this damage was caused. Each panel incorporates a safety device, designed to cut out the current automatically when a certain level is reached. All three devices are in working order, yet the one on this first section appears to have failed in its purpose. Miller, is there a possibility that anything has been tampered with since your uncle’s disappearance?”
“I don’t think so, sir.” Lee shook his head. “According to Mrs. Robson the only things that were touched were the pieces of charred paper, which the police took away.”
“Good.” Leming nodded approval. “So we can assume that the readings on two of the panels are as your uncle left them. We are now only concerned with the readings of the three dials on the damaged section. Let us try to reconstruct the events leading up to the disappearances. Maver and his assistant had been working here all day. There is only one stool. This could suggest that one of them was seated in front of the panel while the other was perhaps taking notes of the readings. Now, instead of going over to the house for a meal they phoned for sandwiches to be brought to them. Would that be a usual thing, Miller?”
Lee thought. “No, I think th
at was unusual.”
“Which suggests that they had either found or were on the brink of finding the door.” Leming turned to look at the wall telephone. “I assume that is still functional?”
Yes, sir.
“Excellent. We will have need of it. Now, later in the day the assistant—what was his name?—Sokel went to the house for some rope. I see no sign of it here.”
“It isn’t here,” Lee confirmed. “I looked. There are some things under one of the benches.” He went over to the bench, kneeled, and dragged out several long strips of wood and lengths of wire. A hook had been tied with string to the end of one of the pieces of wood. Another had a small metal can attached.
“Made in a hurry,” Leming commented, bending over the bundle. “You can guess what they were intended to be used for?”
