by Unknown
He leaped to his feet. "Hah! that pleases me, little Jetta! Gutierrez,take this fellow away."
The Spanish-American came slouching forward. "The girl's an oldfriend, Commander? You never told me that."
"Because it is no business of yours. Take him away. Seal him inD-cubby."
I said sullenly. "I misjudged both of you."
Jetta's gaze avoided me. As Gutierrez shoved me roughly down thecorridor, De Boer laughed, and his voice came back: "Do not be afraid.We will find some safe way of ransoming you--dead or alive!"
I was flung on a bunk in one of the corridor cubbies, and the doorsealed upon me.
(To be continued.)
An Extra Man
By Jackson Gee
[Sidenote: Sealed and vigilantly guarded was "Drayle's Invention,1932"----for it was a scientific achievement beyond which man darednot go.]
Rays of the August mid-day sun pouring through the museum's glass roofbeat upon the eight soldiers surrounding the central exhibit, whichfor thirty years has been under constant guard. Even the presentsweltering heat failed to lessen the men's careful observation of thevisitors who, from time to time, strolled listlessly about the room.
The object of all this solicitude scarcely seemed to require it. Agreat up-ended rectangle of polished steel some six feet square by tenor a dozen feet in height, standing in the center of Machinery Hall,it suggested nothing sinister or priceless. Two peculiarities,however, marked it as unusual--the concealment of its mechanism andthe brevity of its title. For while the remainder of the exhibitslocated around it varied in the simplicity or complexity of theirdesign, they were alike in the openness of their construction anddetailed explanation of plan and purpose. The great steel box,however, bore merely two words and a date: "Drayle's Invention,1932."
It was, nevertheless, toward this exhibit that a pleasant appearingwhite-haired old gentleman and a small boy were slowly walking when achange of guard occurred. The new men took their posts without wordswhile the relieved detail turned down a long corridor that for amoment echoed with the clatter of hobnailed boots on stone. Then allwas surprisingly still. Even the boy was impressed into reluctantsilence as he viewed the uniformed men, though not for long.
* * * * *
"What's that, what's that, what's that?" he demanded presently withshrill imperiousness. "Grandfather, what's that?" An excited armindicated the exhibit with its soldier guard.
"If you can keep still long enough," replied the old gentlemanpatiently, "I'll tell you."
And with due regard for rheumatic limbs he slowly settled himself on abench and folded his hands over the top of an ebony cane preparatoryto answering the youngster's question. His inquisitor, however, was,at the moment, being hauled from beneath a brass railing by thesergeant of the watch.
"You'll have to keep an eye on him, sir," said the man reproachfully."He was going to try his knife on the wood-work when I caught him."
"Thank you, Sergeant. I'll do my best--but the younger generation, youknow."
"Sit still, if possible!" he directed the squirming boy. "If not,we'll start home now."
The non-com took a new post within easy reaching distance of thedisturber and attempted to glare impressively.
"Go on, grandfather, tell me. What's D-r-a-y-l-e? What's in the box?Can't they open it? What are the soldiers for? Must they stay here?Why?"
"Drayle," said the old man, breaking through the barrage of questions,"was a close friend of mine a good many years ago."
"How many, grandfather? Fifty? As much as fifty? Did father know him?Is father fifty?"
"Forty; no; yes; no," said the harassed relative; and then withamazing ignorance inquired: "Do you really care to hear or do you justask questions to exercise your tongue?"
"I want to hear the story, grandpa. Tell me the story. Is it a nicestory? Has it got bears in it? Polar bears? I saw a polar bearyesterday. He was white. Are polar bears always white? Tell me thestory, grandpa."
* * * * *
The old man turned appealing eyes toward the sergeant. Tacitly asympathetic understanding was established. The warrior also was afather, and off the field of battle he had known defeat.
"Leave me handle him, sir," he suggested. "I've the like of him athome."
"I'd be very much indebted to you if you would."
Thus encouraged, the soldier produced from an inner pocket and offeredone of those childhood sweets known as an "all day sucker."
"See if you can choke yourself on that," he challenged.
The clamor ceased immediately.
"It always works, sir," explained the man of resource. "The missussays as how it'll ruin their indigestions, but I'm all for peace evenif I am in the army."
Now that his vocal organs were temporarily plugged, the child waved ademanding arm in the direction of the main exhibit to indicate adesire for the resumption of the narrative. But the ancient was notanxious to disturb so soon the benign and acceptable silence. In factit was not until he observed the sergeant's look of inquiry that hebegan once more.
"That box," he said slowly, "is both a monument and a milestone on theroad to mankind's progress in mechanical invention. It marks the pointbeyond which Drayle's contemporaries believed it was unsafe to go: forthey felt that inventions such as his would add to the complexitiesof life, and that if a halt were not made our own machines wouldultimately destroy us.
"I did not, still do not, believe it. And I know Drayle's spirit brokewhen the authorities sealed his last work in that box and released himupon parole to abandon his experiments."
As the speaker sighed in regretful reminiscence, the sergeant glancedat his men. Apparently all was well: the only visible menace lolledwithin easy arm's reach, swinging his short legs and sucking noisilyon his candy. Nevertheless the non-com shifted to a slightly bettertactical position as he awaited the continuance of the tale.
* * * * *
"Christopher Drayle," said the elderly gentleman, "was the greatestman I have ever known, as well as the finest. Forty years or more agowe were close friends. Our homes on Long Island adjoined and I handledmost of his legal affairs. He was about forty-five or six then, butalready famous.
"His rediscovery of the ancient process of tempering copper had madehim one of the wealthiest men in the land and enabled him to devotehis time to scientific research. Electricity and chemistry were hisspecialties, and at the period of which I speak he was deeplyengrossed in problems of radio transmission.
"But he had many interests and not infrequently visited our localcountry club for an afternoon of golf. Sometimes I played around thecourse with him and afterward, over a drink, we would talk. Hisfavorite topic was the contribution of science to human welfare. Andeven though I could not always follow him when he grew enthusiasticabout some new theory I was always puzzled.
"It was at such a time, when we had been discussing the new and firstsuccessful attempt to send moving pictures by radio, that I mentionedthe prophecy of Jackson Gee. Gee was the writer of fantastic,pseudo-scientific tales who had said: 'We shall soon be able toresolve human beings into their constituent elements, transmit them byradio to any desired point and reassemble them at the other end. Weshall do this by means of vibrations. We are just beginning to learnthat vibrations are the key to the fundamental process of all life.'
* * * * *
"I laughed as I quoted this to Drayle, for it seemed to me the ravingsof a lunatic. But Drayle did not smile. 'Jackson Gee,' he said, 'isnearer to the truth than he imagines. We already know the elementsthat make the human body, and we can put them together in their properproportions and arrangements: but we have not been able to introducethe vitalizing spark, the key vibrations to start it going. We canreproduce the human machine, but we can not make it move. We candestroy life in the laboratory, and we can prolong it, but so far wehave not been able to create it. Yet I tell you in all seriousnessthat that time will come; that time will come.'
"I was surprised at his earnestness and would have questioned
himfurther. But a boy appeared just then with a message that Drayle waswanted at the telephone.
"Something important, sir," he said. Drayle went off to answer thesummons and later he sent word that he had been called away and wouldnot be able to return.
"It was the last I heard from Drayle for months. He shut himself inhis laboratory and saw no one but his assistants, Ward of Boston, andBuchannon of Washington. He even slept in the workshop and had hisfood sent in.
"Ordinarily I would not have been excluded, for I had his confidenceto an unusual degree and I had often watched him work. I admired thedeft movements of his hands. He had the certain touch and style of amaster. But during that period he admitted only his aids.
* * * * *
"Consequently I felt little hope of reaching him one morning when itwas necessary to have his signature to some legal documents. Yet theurgency of the case led me to go to his home on the chance that Imight be able to get him long enough for the business that concernedus. Luck was with me, for he sent out word that he would see me in afew minutes. I remember seating myself in the office that opened offhis laboratory and wondering what was beyond the door that separatedus. I had witnessed some incredible performances in the adjoiningroom.
"At last Drayle came in. He looked worried and careworn. There werenew lines in his face and blue half-circles of fatigue beneath hiseyes. It was evident that it was long since he had slept. Heapologized for having kept me waiting and then, without examining thepapers I offered, he signed his name nervously in the proper spaces.When I gathered the sheets together he turned abruptly toward thelaboratory, but at the door he paused and smiled.
"'Give my respects to Jackson Gee,' he said."
* * * * *
"Who's Jackson Gee? Does father know him? Has he any polar bears?Aren't you going to tell me about that?"
The tidal wave of questions almost overwhelmed the historian and hisauditor. But the military, fortunately, was equal to the emergency.With a tactical turn of his hand he thrust the remnant of the lollypopbetween the chattering jaws and spoke with sharp rapidity.
"Listen," he commanded, "that there, what you got, is a magic candy,and if you go on exposing it to the air after it is once in your mouthit's likely to disappear, just like that." And the speed of thetranslation was illustrated by a smart snapping of the fingers.
Doubt shone in the juvenile terror's eyes and the earlier generationswaited fearfully while skepticism and greed waged their recurrentconflict. For a time it seemed as if the veteran had blundered; butfinally greed triumphed and a temporary peace ensued.
"Where was I?" inquired the interrupted narrator when the issue ofbattle was settled.
"You was talking about Jackson Gee," answered the guardsman in acautiously low tone.
"So I was, so I was," the old gentleman agreed somewhat vaguely,nodding his head. He gazed at the sergeant with mingled awe andadmiration. "I suppose it's quite useless to mention it," he saidrather wistfully, "but if you ever get out of the army and should wanta job.... You could name your own salary, you know?" The questionended on an appealing note.
Evidently the soldier understood the digression, for he replied in atone that would brook no dispute. "No, sir, I couldn't consider it."
"I was afraid so," said the other regretfully, and added, withapparent irrelevance, "I have to live with him, you see."
"Tough luck," commiserated the listener.
Reluctantly summoning his thoughts from the pleasant contemplation ofwhat had seemed to offer a new era of peace, the bard turned to hisstory.
* * * * *
"A few hours later," he continued, "I had a telephone call fromDrayle's wife, and I realized from the fright in her voice thatsomething dreadful had happened. She asked me to come to the house atonce. Chris had been hurt. But she disconnected before I could ask fordetails. I started immediately and I wondered as I drove what disasterhad overtaken him. Anything, it seemed to me, might have befallen inthat room of miracles. But I was not prepared to find that Drayle hadbeen shot and wounded.
"The police were before me and already questioning the assailant, Mrs.Farrel, a fiery tempered young Irish-woman. When I entered the roomshe was repeating half-hysterically her explanation that Drayle hadkilled her husband in the laboratory that morning.
"'Right before my eyes, I seen it,' she shouted. 'Harry was standingon a sort of platform looking at a big machine like, and so help me hedidn't have a stitch of clothes on, and I started to say something,but all at once there came a terrible sort of screech and a flash likelightnin' kinda, in front of him. Then Harry turns into a sort ofthick smoke and I can see right through him like he was a ghost; andthen the smoke gets sucked into a big hole in the machine and I knowHarry's dead. And here's this man what done it, just a standin' there,grinnin' horrid. So something comes over me all at once and I pointsHarry's gun at him and pulls the trigger!'
"Even before the woman had finished I recalled what I seen oneafternoon in Drayle's laboratory many months before. I had been therefor some time watching him when he placed a small tumbler on a worktable and asked me if I had ever seen glass shattered by thevibrations of a violin. I told him that I had, but he went through thedemonstration as if to satisfy himself. Of course when he drew a bowacross the instrument's strings and produced the proper pitch thegoblet cracked into pieces exactly as might have been expected. And Iwondered why Drayle concerned himself with so childish an experimentbefore I noticed that he appeared to have forgotten me completely.
* * * * *
"I endeavored then not to disturb him, and I remember trying to drawmyself out of his way and feeling that something momentous was aboutto take place. Yet actually I believe it would have required aconsiderable commotion to have distracted his attention, for hisability to concentrate was one of the characteristics of his genius.
"I saw him place another glass on the table and I noticed then thatit stood directly in front of a complicated mechanism. At first thisgave out a low humming sound, but it soon rose to an unearthly whiningshriek. I shrank from it involuntarily and a second later I was amazedat the sight of the glass, seemingly reduced to a thin vapor, beingdrawn into a funnel-like opening near the top of the device. I was toostartled to speak and could only watch as Drayle started thecontrivance again. Once more its noise cut through me with physicalpain. I cried out. But my voice was overwhelmed by the terrific din ofthe mysterious machine.
"Then Drayle strode down the long room to another intricate mass ofwire coils and plates and lamps. And I saw a dim glow appear in two ofthe bulbs and heard a noise like the crackling of paper. Drayle madesome adjustments, and presently I observed a peculiar shimmering ofthe air above a horizontal metal grid. It reminded me of heat wavesrising from a summer street, until I saw the vibrations were taking adefinite pattern; and that the pattern was that of the glass I hadseen dissolved into air. At first the image made me think of a pictureformed by a series of horizontal lines close together but broken atvarious points in such fashion as to create the appearance of a lineby the very continuity of the fractures. But as I watched, the plasmabecame substance. The air ceased to quiver and I was appalled to seeDrayle pick up the tumbler and carry it to a scale on which he weighedit with infinite exactness. If he had approached me with it at thatmoment I would have fled in terror.
* * * * *
"Next, Drayle filled the goblet with some liquid which immediatelyafterward he measured in a beaker. The result seemed to please him,for he smiled happily. At the same instant he became aware of mypresence. He looked surprised and then a trifle disconcerted. I couldsee that he was embarrassed by the knowledge that I had witnessed somuch, and after a second or two he asked my silence. I agreed atonce, not only because he requested it but because I couldn't believethe evidence myself. He let me out then and locked the door.
"It was this recollection that made me credit the woman's story. But Iwas sick with dread, for in spite of my faith in Drayle's genius Ifeared he had gone mad.
"Mrs
. Drayle had listened to Mrs. Farrel's account calmly enough, butI could see the fear in her eyes when she signaled a wish to speak tome alone. I followed her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Farrelwith the two policemen and the doctor, who was trying to quiet her.
"As soon as the door closed after us Mrs. Drayle seized my hands.
"'Tim,' she whispered, 'I'm horribly afraid that what the woman saysis true. Chris has told me of some wonderful things he was planning todo, but I never expected he would experiment on human beings. Can theysend him to prison?'
"Of course I said what I could to comfort her and tried to make myvoice sound convincing. At the time the legal aspect of the matter didnot worry me so much as the fear that the attack on Drayle might provefatal. For even if it should develop that he was not dangerously hurt,I imagined that the interruption of the experiment at a criticalmoment might easily have ruined whatever slim chance there had been ofsuccess. For us the nerve-wracking part was that we could do nothinguntil the surgeon who was attending Drayle could tell us how badly hewas injured.
* * * * *
"At last word came that the bullet had only grazed Drayle's head andstunned him, but that he might remain unconscious for some time. Mrs.Drayle went in and sat at her husband's side, while I returned to thelaboratory and found the police greatly bewildered as to whether theyought to arrest Drayle.
"They had discovered in a closet an outfit of men's clothing that Mrs.Farrel identified as her husband's, and, although they saw no othertrace of the missing man, they had a desire to lock up somebody as anevidence of their activity. It took considerable persuasion to prevailupon them to withhold their hands. There was no such difficulty aboutrestraining them in the laboratory. They were afraid to touch anyapparatus, and they gave the invention a ludicrously wide berth.
"I never knew exactly how long it was that I paced about the lowerfloor of Drayle's home before the doctor summoned me and announcedthat the patient wanted me, but that I must be careful not to excitehim. I have often wondered how many physicians would have to abandontheir profession if they were deprived of that phrase. 'You must notexcite the patient.'
