There were free fights, near-riots, tripled police guards. If this thing went through successfully, the man from Tibet would become a virtual ruler—in essence if not in fact—of the policy of every country in the world. That was what the vast majority of people hoped for. A man with natural occult gifts ought to have plenty of sense—and would that be something! Besides, if there was anything in this Martian war possibility, he was the only man with brains enough to stop it. The papers had already hinted at that.
At 8.00 precisely, Harrigan walked calmly onto the dais in the centre of the vast amphitheatre, attired as usual in his cassock, his white hair flowing onto his shoulders. He looked like some ancient patriarch… Then came the Mayor, and lastly a bearded, blue-eyed, immaculate individual with a very incisive manner, carrying a small travelling case that he placed very resolutely beside him. The crowd did not need to be told he was Professor Meredith—that bearded face was familiar enough from newspapers.
The crowd hushed. Television transmitters went into action; floodlights came up, drenching that solitary square. The Mayor went through the preliminaries. Cameras ground in silence. Microphones swung into position under the blazing spots. The Press watched. Professor Meredith stepped forward at last as the Mayor retired.
“Excellency,” Meredith said, and his voice was as sharp as a razor, “of the three stages of learning ascribed to Tibetans-—namely, investigation, meditation, and understanding—I gather that you are the master of the third state, that you are complete controller of matter. In other words you have reached the point where matter of any kind is subservient to you? Where the minds of others are open books?”
Harrigan inclined his head gravely.
“The three supreme tests of Tibetan science are levitation, dimensional control and conquest of matter,” Meredith went on, flicking off the points on his fingers. “No matter what particular Tibetan sect you belong to, your control will be the same. Now let us commence… First, mind reading. I am thinking of three multiple numbers. What are they?”
“Two four six, seven four two and five four nine,” Harrigan replied instantly.
“Correct…” Meredith looked surprised. “Now—you placed yourself in the fourth dimension recently. Will you kindly do so again? I understand that in a fourth dimension you cannot be touched by anything in this plane? I want your word that when you have vanished you will remain inside this chalk circle…” Stooping Meredith drew a circle on the floor round Harrigan.
“You have my word,” he said quietly. “But to make doubly sure it would be as well to fasten me with rope and have it held at both ends.”
Meredith nodded and removed a length of rope from his case. Two volunteers from the front row fastened the rope in position round Harrigan’s waist and held both ends. Then he closed his eyes, folded his arms, and faded slowly from view. The rope trailed into nothing on both sides of the empty chalk circle.
Meredith, frowning heavily, moved his arms inside the space—first above then below. Finally he withdrew and stood pondering as Harrigan slowly merged back into sight again. With a calm smile he nodded to the knots and presently dropped-free.
“Excellent—excellent indeed.” Meredith observed. “Now here—” He pulled forth an ordinary piece of wood from his case. “Here is a plain piece of timber. By the power of concentration I want you to make it burst into flames. I believe it is a feat much favoured by you mystics.”
“Hold it up so everybody can see it,” Harrigan ordered briefly.
Meredith obeyed, a rather sceptical smile on his face. Then there was a long silence as Harrigan stood motionless, concentrating. It was positively startling when the whole mass of wood burst into smoke and flame, causing Meredith to drop it hastily and stamp on it. He gave a rather sheepish smile through his beard.
“I confess I came here to trip you up, Excellency,” he said quietly. “But I am afraid the tables are being turned. I am being made to look the fool… One more test, then I shall be satisfied. The most difficult feat even for an advanced Tibetan is the art of levitation by sheer will power opposing gravitation. It is hard enough for the mystic to force himself to rise from the ground but to make another rise from the ground is even harder! I challenge you to do that. If you succeed, I shall probe no further. It would be obviously futile…”
“You require me to raise myself into the air?” Harrigan asked.
“Not yourself. Raise me!” Meredith grinned cunningly.
“Very well—but I warn you I shall use hypnotism. Like this!” Harrigan shot out his fingers suddenly. In defiance of gravitation Meredith leaned backwards slowly, as stiff as a poker, gradually lowered to the floor and lay motionless. For a moment or two Harrigan stood pondering and the audience waited breathlessly.
Then he waved his hands at the head and feet of the obviously tranced expert. Slowly, gradually, Meredith began to rise, floating horizontally in mid-air. There he remained, two feet from the floor, with Hamgan’s hands poised over him compellingly.
For perhaps six seconds there was dead silence; then Harrigan made another gentle pass and in response the expert slowly went back to the floor again. A snap of the fingers before his eyes and he began to get dazedly to his feet.
“What did I—?” he began, then the rest of his words was drowned out by applause, reverberating from roof and walls.
Here, in glaring lights, without any apparatus—for the whole place had been searched not five minutes before the demonstration had begun—something had been done that made stage illusionists look like amateurs. And the cream of it was that the mastermind of Tibetan lore had been the victim. Meredith had been made to float. He was standing now looking incredibly bewildered.
Then at last, as the din died away, he held out his hand frankly.
“There can be no further doubt of your Excellency’s abilities,” he said quietly, his words relaying to everybody by the microphone. “This world-wide telecast, convened for the purpose, has proved to the world that we have in our midst a natural controller of material forces—one who has come to warn us of impending danger and upon whose undeniable ability and resource we now cast our allegiance excellency, I bow to your genius!”
Harrigan smiled faintly, but he said nothing. Inwardly, his chief anxiety was to get clear of the surging, admiring mob of people who looked perilously likely to assail him. He made a quick motion to the police guard round the dais and they closed immediately.
Even at that he had a rough and tumble journey back to his hotel. Not until he was at last back in his room did he breathe freely again, and turned to look at the Mayor and group of officials around him.
“It is more than likely that the Prime Minister will himself have seen your efforts over the television, Excellency,” the Mayor observed. “In any case a full film and sound record will be dispatched to him tonight, together with my personal reports… There can be little doubt as to the outcome,” he added smiling.
I’m entirely at the Prime Minister’s disposal, Harrigan answered. “And now, gentlemen, if you please…? The strain tonight…”
“Of course.” The Mayor nodded to the officials and they bowed themselves out of the room. Harrigan gave a faint, troubled smile when the door had closed. He waited around his room until long after midnight, smoking and pondering. Finally, shedding his disguise, he turned to the writing table and Denned a brief note—
“You did magnificently. Tomorrow I should get the okay from the Prime Minister himself. That will constitute the winning of my wager because it will make me virtual ruler of the world. I cannot go further than that. I shall simply vanish and become Harrigan again. Then, and only then can you release Professor Meredith. You’ll hear from me further. Thanks a lot. DH.”
Harrigan smiled, sealed the note in an envelope and tied it to a small paperweight. At one in the morning he saw what he was waiting for—the momentary flash of a torchlight way down in the deserted street outside. Immediately he opened the window and dropped the letter outside. Th
e figure stooped and picked it up, moved silently away into the night…
* * * *
Next morning brought an official of the Government to the hotel, surrounded by the usual horde of eager newspapermen. The envoy refused to speak, was admitted to Harrigan’s room, gave a slight bow, then handed over a long, heavily sealed envelope.
Harrigan extracted the authoritative notepaper of the House of Commons and read the communiqué rapidly. His heart gave an extra beat. The note was signed by the Prime Mmister in person. It commended the vindication of the previous night’s test and requested the co-operation of ‘His Excellency’ at a conference of world heads, to be shortly convened—at which ‘His Excellency’ would perhaps be good enough to suggest ways and means of defeating the approaching Martian menace.
In essence, despite legal and technical phrasing, the letter was an admission of Harrigan’s mystical powers and was a request for him to become the shadow power behind the thrones of the world. It was the fulfilment of a hundred thousand pound wager.
Harrigan nodded and smiled, walked over to the door and handed the note to the nearest pressman.
“Publish this—facsimile,” he requested briefly. “It is not my policy to keep requests secret. I consider it in the public interest that they should know what is to be done… I am to be ruler of the world, my friends—and I assure you my one wish is to help you all to overcome this approaching invasion.”
He withdrew without further observations, turned to the envoy.
“I will communicate with the Prime Minister within the hour,” he said quietly. “I have other matters to attend to first…”
“Very good, Excellency.” The envoy departed with brisk tread.
Harrigan smiled rather ruefully as he was left alone. He began to think out loud.
“If I retire now I’m safe. I have not taken a cent from anybody; I have proved that there is one born every minute; and the press will advertise to Landhurst that I have become ruler of the world without any resort to force… Well, it was good while it lasted.” He began to peel off his disguise. “A brief note can say I was recalled to my ancestors in Tibet, or something. Then—”
He broke off and glanced round sharply at a sudden hubbub in the corridor, followed by a pounding on his room door. Frantically he tried to put his disguise back in place but it just would not stick.
“One moment—!” he called out anxiously; but to his horror a duplicate key grated in the lock. The door flew open suddenly.
It was Hodder of the Clarion who came stalking in first, his face sour with triumph. Around him were police officers and behind them the hotel manager and an inquisitive crowd.
“Douglas Harrigan,” the inspector said curtly. “I have here a warrant for your arrest on charges of fraud, kidnapping, and false representation. I must warn you that anything you say—”
“All right, skip that,” Harrigan interrupted, with a little sigh. He stripped off the rest of his disguise, then glanced at Hodder. “Nice going, Hodder,” he commented dryly. “But you’re just a shade too late. I’ve done all I need to do… Now gentlemen, I am at your service.”
CHAPTER IV
Confession
Possibly no trial in the history of British justice had such sensational angles as that of the ‘Tibetan Mystic.’
Throughout it all Harrigan remained perfectly at ease, answered every question truthfully, gave the details of his wager and of his intentions to step out before he did any real harm. The only thing he refused to say was his method of performing his feats. He had reasons for that: newspapers were bidding fantastic prices against each other for his personal revelations. All he had to do was sit back and wait for the highest bidder.
Hodder’s revelations were surprising. Suspicious from the very first, he had watched every move Harrigan had made. He had seen him leave and return to his hotel. He had seen him telephone. He had traced the call to Bob Shepherd, sorted out the details from the Fantasy Club—by joining as a member—and had gradually built up the evidence that had led him to see the actual kidnapping of the real Professor Meredith by Harrigan’s two friends, on his way to the Albert Hall demonstration. It had been simply accomplished by switching taxis.
For Shepherd to apply whiskers and resemble Meredith had been the easiest thing in the world. After the demonstration Hodder had taken it on himself to corner Shepherd and get the whole story out of him. Hence it had been Hodder himself and not Shepherd who had taken the note dropped by Harrigan from the hotel window. It gave the complete low-down—but it did something else too: it proved that Harrigan had really intended to step out before he got too involved.
Had Hodder had his way Harrigan would have been arrested the moment he had got the truth out of Shepherd—but it had taken time to get the law to believe him, even longer to arrange the legal details of the warrant; time in which Harrigan had got what he wanted—the admission from the head of the nation that he was to become the shadow ruler of the world. The thing was void now, of course—but that was not the point. Harrigan had achieved his object, to which Landhurst willingly testified on the stand, and further substantiated it by paying in a hundred thousand pounds to Harrigan’s bank account.
One by one the witnesses were grilled. The case dragged on. The judge was forced to Solomon-like wisdom to appraise the matter in its true light. In the annals of hoaxes there had never been one quite like this. No actual harm had been done beyond the ‘detention’ of Meredith and the absolute gullibility of people at large. It was a profoundly difficult problem to deal with. Harrigan had stolen nothing, hurt nobody, had even paid his hotel bill, and had intended to withdraw before precipitating a crisis.
The only clause the judge could work on was that of kidnapping—but here Meredith himself stepped in the gap with a self confessed admiration for Harrigan’s cheek. The result of it all was that Harrigan got one year’s imprisonment. He took it with a calm smile and advised the newspaper whose figure he had finally accepted—the Clarion as it happened—that he would forward a personal confession from jail. So Hodder got his scoop too and Harrigan’s hundred thousand pounds was doubled.
In jail, out of sight, he was not forgotten by those whose faces were still red at the thought of their gullibility. The Clarion’s circulation soared vastly as his confessions were published with perfect frankness. Skipping the main personal angles of the trial, readers read the ‘Secrets’ department with avid eyes…
“…and I have no doubt that reporter Hodder was much surprised when his notes vanished. He need not have been. Dimonitrine ethyl, if concentrated into a pill or tab-let, dissolves rapidly into the air but gives off odourless fumes that loosen the ingredients of ink, or graphite (pencil) and evaporate it. It is the basis of many liquid erasers on the market today. I dropped a tablet in Hodder’s notebook pocket, with results that astounded him a good deal. The fumes, in the confined space, went up between the book leaves and eliminated everything written therein…
“…my disguise was of course synthetic flesh, such as is used by modern beauty parlours to patch up defects in my lady’s face. The only difference was that mine was fireproof, simple enough by adding one chemical, whereby I could bum matches on hands and face without trouble. Again, synthetic flesh fits with such elastic tightness it is impossible to tell where it joins, ends or begins…
“…my films were perfectly normal but taken over a long period of time in preparation for such an event as this, and also to satisfy myself in regard to details of certain stories I have written. They were taken on a small camera and then enlarged to standard size in my own dark room: nobody save me ever saw them before. Microphotography of slugs on a stretch of sand, and superimposition of myself by what is called the ‘Dunning’ process, gave disparity in sizes. The four dimensional effects were done with prisms and mirrors. The Martian ‘City’ was New York done in this wise, and the giant power engines were photographed in an ordinary power house and human beings were superimposed afterwards in such a style
as to look after them. The colour effects were, once again, entirely prismatic and 3-D.
“…my own apparent disappearance into a fourth dimension was purely the work of polarising light vibrations. Since these scientific machines are usually confined to sideshows or military headquarters, they are little known to the general public even though invented and proved as far back as 1937. I had long known the principle of these polarising machines. A professional one is rather large: I made a smaller one capable of fitting into a small travelling case.
“On the occasion of the premiere, Shepherd was seated with the case in the front row. He had merely to operate the mechanism at the desired time by buttons on the side disguised as a handle, and I came into the range of the beam. He did the same when in the disguise of Meredith he asked me to disappear. By ducking my head as he waved his hand over me, and by raising my feet one after the other as he waved his hand below, the impression was conveyed that I was not there. The invisibility machine was in his travelling case. Since he was virtually in the know with everything I did, it made matters profoundly simple…
“…in the case of the burning wood, the wood was of course prepared with chemical beforehand Shepherd had merely to press a concealed switch at the required time. Shops for magical apparatus sell these anywhere…
“…the system by which I levitated ‘Meredith’ was an ordinary illusionist’s trick. I had wire ready fixed in my hands. He had small invisible hooks on his shoes and the shoulders of his coat. All I had to do when making the passes was slip the wires on to the hooks, then cause him to rise slowly, first one end and then the other, until at last he floated in apparent contra to gravity. The trick lies in the angle at which you raise the victim, as any magician will tell you. Ju-jitsu relies on the same principle. It is possible by absolute accuracy to raise a man half as heavy again as yourself with perfect ease. That was all I did. Naturally, ‘Meredith’ and I took good care that nobody else came near us while the trick was done. It was the total absence of any visible apparatus that swung the thing…”
The John Russell Fearn Science Fiction Megapack Page 12
