The Nyctalope vs Lucifer 3: The Triumph of the Nyctalope

by Jean de La Hire

  In a corner of the cabin where there were pegs attached to the bell-jar, Laurence and Grisyl took off their coats and hats while the Professor was some distance away. Chabot assisted him to dispose of his own clothes temporarily on a nearby chair.

  “Grisyl!” whispered Laurence.

  “I’m listening,” the young woman replied.

  “You’re very strong, aren’t you?”

  “Physically?”

  “Yes.”

  “Quite strong, I suppose.”

  “If necessary, then, you could overpower Chabot, tie him up and gag him?”

  “Yes.”

  Darting a sideways glance at the two men, Grisyl smiled, expressing scornful pity. Indeed, Chabot, a clever electrician and skillful mechanic, was no athlete. Short and a little too plump, neither wiry nor muscular, he would not put up much resistance to the tall and powerful Grisyl, who has always been extremely assiduous in performing the daily gymnastic exercises prescribed by Warteck law.

  “You can use his greatcoat and muffler,” Laurence continued. “They’re over there, on the other pegs.”

  “Yes, I see them.”

  “Good. I’ll take care of the Professor.”

  “Be careful, Laurence!” Grisyl said. “The Professor is tall, well-built and strong.”

  “Don’t worry–I don’t intend to get into a fight with him. As women, our best weapon remains trickery.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “No need to explain–let’s stick to the indispensable. Listen, Grisyl.”

  “Well?”

  “Don’t leave the cabin, unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ll ask the Professor to let you remain with me at all times–outside the bell-jar, of course. We can’t do anything until Romski’s ready.”

  “We’d lose everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “So?”

  “Romski won’t be ready until 8 p.m. We must get out of here between 8 and 8:05 p.m.”

  Grisyl turned her head and raised her eyes to a wall-clock fixed between two closed portholes on the far side of the cabin. “It’s already 6:30 p.m.,” she said.

  “I know–I saw that as we came in. We must wait until 7:45 p.m. If Chabot isn’t here, you’ll have to invent some pretext for summoning him. I’ll be in the cage with the Professor. When I shout ‘Saint-Clair!’ you grab him. It will have to be done very quickly–getting out of here, climbing on to the gangplank...”

  “What if there’s someone else here?”

  “There won’t be anyone else. I told Lourmel in the dinghy that I didn’t want to risk being seen if I fell into a hypnotic trance.”

  “And once we’re out of here?”

  “No one will stop us. We shan’t give the appearance of running away.”

  “Understood.”

  They both knew that what they intended to do, if they succeeded in the preliminaries, carried frightful risks of torture and death, but they were quite prepared to sacrifice their lives. As for the preliminary tortures, they would only last for a while. What is pain, whose end can be foreseen, when one submits to it in order to safeguard the life of the man one loves? Laurence and Grisyl were women, and the adventure into which their love caused them to throw themselves so ardently was, for them, the ultimate game of skill. It would be delightful to play–and besides, why should they not succeed?

  Grisyl almost laughed mischievously as she said: “I can hardly wait to see...”

  “What I’ll do to the Professor?” La Païli finished, pertly.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like me to tell you now?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “Well, when I...” But at that moment Lourmel turned to the two young women and came towards them. Laurence fell silent.

  “Excuse me, my dear friends,” the Professor said. “I couldn’t help giving a little time to the Rupert case, which I find so interesting. It’s done, and I’m entirely at your disposal. Let’s not stay here. The next cabin is a sort of miniature library, very comfortable. You and Grisyl will be better off there, my dear friend. I’ll keep you company, if you’ll allow it.”

  “Willingly, my dear Professor,” replied La Païli. “But if I’m suddenly overtaken by... What you’re expecting?”

  “We have only to take a few steps to bring us back to the bell-jar. Within a minute, you’d be enclosed in a radioactive atmosphere. Pray to God that it will be as easy for me to free Irène and Henri from the monster’s potential spells. The Lampas has already been heading at top speed for the submarine station at the Pole since yesterday. Oh, there are times–all too frequent–when it seems to me to be impossible that the Nyctalope will succeed, despite all his genius.”

  Laurence did not reply. She had heard the Professor talking about his niece in agonized terms several times before; Irène was never far from her uncle’s thoughts, however preoccupied he was with his scientific work or collaboration with Saint-Clair. But what could she say? Laurence certainly felt sorry for Irène and little Henri Prillant, but the prospects and threats they faced were no worse than those confronting her. It was true that Lucifer was, for the moment, concentrating all his attractive and terrifying power on Irène and Henri, but what were a few days of common imprisonment to individuals who, if the battle they had joined was not won by a specific date, would be condemned thereafter to perpetual solitary confinement or imminent death? Those days were only significant in the context of the war; since Irène and Henri would not have been able to contribute to the struggle, whether Lucifer let them alone or not, it was of scant importance.

  Meanwhile, they went into the smaller room. Laurence and Grisyl sat down side by side on a divan. The Professor sat in an armchair.

  “I won’t offer to find you a book,” he said, “and I won’t get one myself. We have enough in our heads and hearts to occupy us while we wait...”

  Laurence made a sign of assent, and Grisyl smiled.

  The two women and the man remained there, silent and immobile, refraining from looking at one another and quickly looking to one side if their eyes happened to meet, waiting for the ever-mysterious and ever-menacing empery of Lucifer.

  Half an hour went by. Then, La Païli suddenly sat up straight and raised her head, as if in response to a summons. Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes turned upwards, a groan emerged from her mouth and a corpse-like pallor overtook her face.

  “Quickly! Quickly!” cried the Professor, coming to his feet. He shouted: “Chabot!”

  On hearing his name called by his employer, the assistant operated the controls activating the mechanism that elevated the glass cage. Grisyl had anticipated the Professor; she took Laurence’s stiff body in her strong arms, lifted it up, and ran through the open door, carrying it effortlessly.

  Thirty seconds later, the bell-jar fell back gently, enclosing in its transparent shell not merely Rupert VI–who had not emerged from his somnolence or moved from his armchair–but also Laurence, seated in a second armchair, and Lourmel, who stood facing her. Grisyl remained outside the cage, beside Chabot, her eyes fixed on the entranced Laurence, who was rapidly passing from Lucifer’s distant influence to that of Professor Lourmel.

  He’ll question her, Grisyl thought. It’s 7:10 p.m. The hypnotic session shouldn’t last longer than half an hour–three quarters of an hour at the most–but Laurence will be very tired afterwards. Will she be able to carry through whatever she planned to do to prevent the Professor from being an obstacle to our departure? She was very anxious. She heard Lourmel’s voice, attenuated by the thickness of the crystal but distinct enough for the words to be clearly perceived by an attentive ear.

  “Where are you, Laurence?” the Professor asked.

  La Païli replied, in a dull voice that Grisyl heard quite clearly: “I’m in Fort Warteck, in the cupola of the Teledynamo.”

  “What and who can you see?”

  “The Teledynamo, with seven skeletal skulls, a large terrestrial globe, Glô von Warteck and Wilfried.”


  “What are they doing?”

  “They’re both leaning over a crystal bowl filled with water. They’re wearing earpieces. They’re not moving.”

  “Look! Listen! If they move, describe their movements. If they speak, repeat their words.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  There was a pause. Excited and captivated, no longer feeling the anxiety of a few moments before, Grisyl watched and listened, leaning her hands on the transparent wall. Standing next to her, with his hands in his pockets, Chabot was also watching and listening.

  Suddenly, Laurence’s dull voice said: “Glô gestures angrily. He raises his head and turns to Wilfried, who is acting in exactly the same manner. Both their faces express disappointment. Glô says: ‘I can’t hear anything; I can’t see anything.’ ‘Neither can I,’ says Wilfried. They turn back again and lean over the bowl. Glô lifts his head again, takes a step to one side, removes some polished pegs from an ivory console pierced with holes. He comes back to look into the bowl.”

  The voice paused; thirty seconds ran by.

  “Ah... I can see things in the bowl,” Laurence resumed, with greater animation. “A submarine gliding beneath the surface, at top speed. Oh! The submarine’s interior... There’s Irène! And little Henri... I recognize them.” Professor Lourmel had shown the singer photographs of the young woman and the child on several occasions. “And that’s undoubtedly Monsieur Mattol. They’re in a cabin. Little Henri’s asleep on a divan. Irène’s weeping, slumped in an armchair, her fists under her chin, her eyes staring. Monsieur Mattol seems to be in a hypnotic trance. Oh! Glô is saying: ‘You see, Wilfried, the Teledynamo’s working. There’s the Lampas–and it was working when plugged into La Païli. We saw, just for a second, some sort of library, still blurred–but everything vanished before we could distinguish any specific details. Everything vanished; there’s been silence in the earpieces, and the water in the bowl’s been perfectly transparent, in exactly the same fashion as when Hunter was removed from the Teledynamo’s field on May 24. He never returned, despite my calls. It was as if his body and soul had been extinguished...’ ”

  Laurence fell silent momentarily. In a low voice, as if talking to himself, Chabot said: “Right! Once he had been removed from the cage, dead, I shut Hunter in a hermetically-sealed tank filled with radioactive gas.”

  Grisyl, who was standing next to him, overheard him. She said: “Which proves that Professor Lourmel has found a means of nullifying the power of the Teledynamo. The Teledynamo’s waves can’t penetrate an atmosphere saturated with radioactive gas, like the one he has composed.”

  “And Lucifer doesn’t know that.”

  “He doesn’t know it yet,” Grisyl said, “but he’ll investigate and figure it out...”

  “If the Nyctalope gives him time, Mademoiselle! Look!”

  In her armchair, facing the standing Lourmel, La Païli had started.

  “Speak, Laurence!” the Professor ordered.

  She obeyed immediately. Her voice was clearly audible. “Glô says: ‘Nothing! Nothing! And I can’t let the Lampas alone for too long. Mattol will be able to react–to damage the ship in such a way that it’ll have to surface, incapable of making further progress.’ Wilfried frowns. He’s says: ‘That’s true!’ Glô snatches the earpieces from his ears and cries: ‘Ah, if I could take Irène, I’d bring her aboard! I’d find La Païli again afterwards...’ Wilfried also takes out his earpieces. Glô goes up to the machine with the seven skulls. He examines it, walking all around it, followed by Wilfried. He murmurs words that I can’t make out. He stops. He looks at Wilfried. He speaks. ‘Let’s go to the laboratory, Wilfried. I’ll branch a conductive wire from the Teledynamo to the laboratory so that, without significantly diminishing the force of the waves holding the Lampas and its occupants captive, we’ll be able to displace enough fluid to make experiments. We’ll combine all the gases that we can produce by decomposition or amalgamation. We’ll also test the reactions of the fluid in relation to various electrical stimuli and material substances. I think one of my adversaries–probably Professor Lourmel–has found some means to insulate individuals and their supportive milieux from my investigations. Is that insulating substance a solid? A gas? An element treated in some specific fashion? We need to find out–if we don’t, my victory on June 10 will not be entirely complete, since Lourmel will be able to insulate himself and others from the Teledynamo’s influence. Let’s go!’

  “They’re going down the stairway that leads to the machine. They’re going into the pedestal. They...”

  Lourmel’s voice, simultaneously gentle and imperious, cut in: “No need to follow them, Laurence. They’re going to work. We, too, must do the same. Wake up!” The Professor’s face was transfigured; it radiated noble pride and triumphant joy. With respect to an important scientific point, he had undoubtedly put Lucifer and his Teledynamo in check.

  When Laurence woke up, Lourmel operated the controls that introduced oxygen into the cage, gradually substituting pure air for the radioactive atmosphere. Then he lifted up the crystal enclosure. As soon as he could slip out under the vertical walls, he came out.

  “Look after Laurence, Grisyl. You’ll find everything you need–cordial, biscuits–in a cupboard in the next room. If she seems too weak, give her an injection with syringe No. 3, which is filled with a red liquid. Inject all its contents. I’ll go confer with the Nyctalope.”

  “Use the telephone, boss!” said Chabot, with his usual liberty of language. A wireless telephone connection had indeed been installed between the Uberalles and Elmwood.

  “No,” said the Professor. “What I have to say is too important, and it may be necessary to make new decisions. Besides, my presence here isn’t indispensable. If, by chance–it’s unlikely, because Lucifer is too busy now to launch a counterstrike–but if Mademoiselle Païli is overtaken again, carry her back into the cage, Grisyl, and telephone me immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Having finally dressed himself from top to toe in furs–for he was extremely sensitive to cold, and dreaded the abrupt transition from the warmth of the submarine’s interior to the glacial external atmosphere–the Professor ran out of the large cabin. Without responding to the “What’s new?” uttered by Commander Saincer–whom he met near the exit–he threw himself out on to the deck, leapt into the dinghy and ordered the two sailors waiting there to row him to shore immediately.

  Meanwhile, having opened her eyes and collected herself, Laurence recognized Grisyl. She smiled, and sighed: “My God!”

  “Are you tired?” the younger woman asked.

  “Yes, exhausted! Did it last a long time?”

  “Twenty minutes. It’s 7:30 p.m. Can you walk?”

  “Yes, if I lean on you. But we must... It’s absolutely necessary that in less than...” She caught sight of Chabot, who was waiting in case anyone had need of him, and fell silent.

  “I remain at your disposal, Mesdemoiselles,” the assistant said, “according to the boss’s orders.”

  “Good,” said Laurence, with a smile. Supported by Grisyl, she went into the next room. “Shut the door,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I think that’s best.” The younger woman closed the door that connected the little room to the larger cabin where Chabot was waiting.

  As soon as she was seated on the divan, Laurence said, in a low voice: “Quickly, Grisyl–revive me!”

  “Did you hear the Professor? Everything necessary is here. The injection first–then eat and drink. No need to worry–we have a good 20 minutes.”

  “But I need to know what I said in the bell-jar.”

  “Naturally! I heard everything, understood everything. I’ll tell you all that while I take care of you. Ah, here’s syringe No. 3, red liquid. Do you want the injection in the arm or the thigh?”

  “In the arm.”

  “Very well–here you are.”

  During the injection and afterwards, while serving Laurence with biscuits and a gene
rous glass of wine, Grisyl repeated, almost word for word, the revelations that the singer had made in her hypnotic state.

  “Good!” said the diva as soon as Grisyl had finished. “Didn’t I hear that the Professor has gone ashore to confer with the Nyctalope?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I won’t have to play the nasty trick that would have permitted us to part company.”

  Grisyl smiled. Still in a whisper, she said, curiously: “What would you have done at the time fixed for our departure, if the Professor had still been with us?”

  “That’s quite simple. At 7:45 p.m., I would have asked him if we could conduct an experiment. If he were in the radioactive atmosphere and I were outside in the ordinary air, could he put me into a trance through the glass wall? I know the Professor well. Any new problem, even if it seems trivial, excites his curiosity. Many a time I’ve heard him say: ‘How can one know how an experiment will turn out if one hasn’t tried it?’ He would certainly have agreed. Once the bell-jar is sealed and full of radioactive gas, the replacement of that artificial atmosphere with normal air takes time because of the slowness of the relevant mechanisms–plenty of time for you, my dear Grisyl, to make it impossible for Chabot to follow us, and for me to put on my boots, hat and coat. Then we would have gone up on deck. Romski would certainly have picked us up before the Professor got out of the cage and released Chabot. Ah–you’re laughing!”

  Indeed, Grisyl could not help laughing. Despite the gravity of the circumstances, the notion of the Professor, temporarily imprisoned by glass, watching them tying up Chabot and escaping seemed very funny.

  “Yes,” she said, “I’m laughing. To make a fool of a man of Professor Lourmel’s importance in such a manner–I’m scandalized, but I find it very comical.”

  “You made a fool of Rupert VI in the Bermudas, to save Leo from electrocution.”