XIII
ALBERT JEROME
Just as soon as possible I hurried over to Berkeley. I went straight tothe bungalow on Dwight Way; I inquired for Miss Holcomb. She was a womannow in her late twenties, decidedly pretty, a blonde, and of intelligentbearing.
Coming on such an errand, I was at a loss just how to approach her. Inoted the little lines about the corners of her eyes, the sad droop ofher pretty mouth. Plainly she was worried. As I was removing my hat shecaught sight of the ring upon my finger.
"Oh," she said; "then you come from Mr. Watson. How is Chick?"
"Mr. Watson"--I did not like lying, but I could not but feel forher; she had already lost her father--"Mr. Watson has gone on a tripup-country--with Jerome. He was not feeling well. He has left this ringwith me. I have come for a bit of information."
She bit her lips; her mouth quivered.
"Couldn't you get this from Mr. Watson? He knows about the stone. Didn'the tell you? How did it come into your possession? What has happened?"
Her voice was querulous and suspicious. I had endeavoured to deceive herfor her own sake; she had suffered enough already. I could not but winceat the pain in her eyes. She stood up.
"Please, Mr. Wendel; don't be clumsy. Don't regard me as a mere baby.Tell me what has happened to Chick. Please--"
She stopped in a flow of emotion. Tears came to her eyes; but she heldcontrol. She sat down.
"Tell me all, Mr. Wendel. It is what I expected." She blinked to holdback her tears. "It is my fault. You wouldn't have the ring had nothinghappened. Tell me. I can be brave."
And brave she was--splendid. With the tug at my own heart I couldunderstand her. What uncertainty and dread she must have been under! Ihad been in it but a few days; already I could feel the weight. At notime could I surmount the isolation; there was something going fromme minute by minute. With the girl there could be no evasion; it werebetter that she have the truth. I made a clean breast of the wholeaffair.
"And he told you no more about the ring?"
"That is all," I answered. "He would have told us much more,undoubtedly, had he not--"
"You saw him go--you saw this thing?"
"That is just it, Miss Holcomb. We saw nothing. One minute we werelooking at Chick, and the next at nothing. Hobart understood it betterthan I. At least he forbade my crossing the room. There is a dangerpoint, a spot that may not be crossed. He threw me back. It was thenthat the Rhamda came upon the scene." She frowned slightly.
"Tell me about the Nervina. When Chick spoke of her, I could always feeljealous. Is she beautiful?"
"Most beautiful, the most wonderful girl I have ever seen, though Iwould hardly class her as one to be jealous of. But she wants the ring.I've promised Watson, and of course I shall keep it. But I would likeits history."
"I think I can give you some information there," she answered. "Thering, or rather the jewel, was given to father about twenty years ago bya Mr. Kennedy. He had been a pupil of father's when father taught at alocal school. He came here often to talk over old times. Father had thejewel set in a ring; but he never wore it."
"Why?"
"I do not know."
"How did Watson come to link it up with the Blind Spot?"
"That, I think, was an accident. He was in college, you know, at thetime of father's disappearance. In fact, he was in the Ethics class.He came here often, and during one of his visits I showed him the ring.That was several years ago."
"I see."
"Well, about a year ago he was here again, and asked to see the jewel.We were to be married, you understand; but I had always put it offbecause of father. Somehow I felt that he would return. It was in latesummer, about September; it was in the evening; it was getting dark. Igave Chick the ring, and stepped into the garden to cut some flowers. Iremember that Chick struck a match in the parlour. When I came back heseemed to be excited."
"Did he ask you for the ring?"
"Yes. He wanted to wear it. And he suddenly began to talk of father. Itwas that night that he took it upon himself to find him."
"I see. Not before that night? Did he take the ring then?"
"Yes. We went to the opera. I remember it well, because that night wasthe first time I ever knew Chick to be gloomy."
"Ah!"
"Yes. You know how jolly he always was. When we returned that night hewould scarcely say a word. I thought he was sick; but he said he wasnot; said he just felt that way."
"I understand. And he kept getting glummer? Did you suspect the jewel?Did he ever tell you anything?"
She shook her head.
"No. He told me nothing, except that he would find father. Of course, Ibecame excited and wanted to know. But he insisted that I couldn't help;that he had a clue, and that it might take time. From that night I sawvery little of him. He leased the house on Chatterton Place. He seemedto lose interest in myself; when he did come over he would act queerly.He talked incoherently, and would often make rambling mention of abeautiful girl called Nervina. You say it is the ring? Tell me, Mr.Wendel, what is it? Has it really anything to do with father?"
I nodded.
"I think it has, Miss Holcomb. And I can understand poor Chick. He is avery brave man. It's a strange jewel and of terrible potency; that muchI know. It devitalises; it destroys. I can feel it already. It coverslife with a fog of decay. The same solitude has come upon myself.Nevertheless I am certain it has much to do with the Blind Spot. It is akey of some sort. The very interest of the Rhamda and the Nervina tellsus that. I think it was through this stone that your father made hisdiscovery."
She thought a moment.
"Hadn't you better return it? While you still have health? If you keepit, it will be only one more."
"You forget, Miss Holcomb, my promise to Chick. I loved your father,and I was fond of Watson. It's a great secret and, if the professor isright, one which man has sought through the ages. I'd be a coward toforgo my duty. If I fail, I have another to take my place."
"Oh," she said, "it's horrible. First father; then Chick; now you; andafterwards it will be Mr. Fenton."
"It is our duty," I returned. "One by one. Though we may fail, each oneof us may pass a bit more on to his successor. In the end we win. It isthe way of man."
I had my way. She turned over all the data and notes that had beenleft by the professor; but I never found a thing in them that could beconstrued to an advantage. My real quest was to trace down the jewel.The man Kennedy's full name was, I learned, Budge Kennedy. He had livedin Oakland. It was late in the afternoon when I parted with Miss Holcomband started for the city.
I remember it well because of a little incident that occurredimmediately after our parting. I was just going down the steps when Ilooked up one of the side streets. A few students were loitering hereand there. But there was one who was not a student. I recognised himinstantly, and I wondered. It was the Rhamda. This was enough to makeme suspicious. But there was one thing more. Farther up the street wasanother figure.
When I came down the steps the Rhamda moved, and his move was somehowduplicated by the other. In itself this was enough to clear up some ofmy doubts concerning the phantom. His actions were too simple for anapparition. Only a man would act like that, and a crude one. I didn'tknow then the nerve of the Rhamda. There was no doubt that I was beingshadowed.
To make certain, I took the by-streets and meandered by a devious routeto the station. There was no question; one and two they followed. I knewthe Rhamda; but who was the other?
At the station we purchased tickets, and when the train pulled in Iboarded a smoker. The other two took another coach--the stranger was athick-set individual with a stubby, grey moustache. On the boat I didn'tsee them; but at the ferry building I made a test to see that I wasfollowed. I hailed a taxi and gave specific instructions to the driver.
"Drive slowly," I told him. "I think we shall be followed."
And I was right; in a few minutes there were two cars dogging ourwheel-tracks. I had no doubt concerni
ng the Rhamda; but I couldn'tunderstand the other. At No. 288 Chatterton Place we stopped and Ialighted. The Rhamda's car passed, then the other. Neither stopped. Bothdisappeared round the corner. I took the numbers; then I went into thehouse. In about a half hour a car drew up at the curb. I stepped tothe window. It was the car that had tracked the Rhamda's. The stubbyindividual stepped out; without ceremony he ran up the steps and openedthe door. It was a bit disconcerting, I think, for both. He was plainand blunt--and honest.
"Well," he said, "where's Watson? Who are you? What do you want?"
"That," I answered, "is a question for both of us. Who are you, and whatdo you want? Where is Watson?"
Just then his eyes dropped and his glance fell and eyes widened.
"My name is Jerome," he said simply. "Has something happened to Watson?Who are you?"
We were standing in the library; I made an indication towards the otherroom. "In there," I said. "My name is Wendel."
He took off his hat and ran the back of his hand across his forehead.
"So that pair got him, too! I was afraid of them all the while. And Ihad to be away. Do you know how they did it? What's the working of theirgame? It's devilish and certainly clever. They played that boy for ayear; they knew they would get him in the end. So did I.
"He was a fine lad, a fine lad. I knew this morning when I came downfrom Nevada that they had him. Found your duds. A stranger. House lookedqueer. But I had hopes he might have gone over to see his girl. Justthought I'd wander over to Berkeley. Found that bird Rhamda under a palmtree watching the Holcomb bungalow. It was the first time I'd seenhim since that day things went amiss with the professor. In about tenminutes you came out. I stayed with him while he tracked you back here;I followed him back down town and lost him. Tell me about Watson."
He sat down; during my recital he spoke not a word. He consumed onecigar after another; when I stopped for a moment he merely nodded hishead and waited until I continued. He was sturdy and frank, of an ironway and vast common sense. I liked him. When I had finished he remainedsilent; his grief was of a solid kind! he had liked poor Watson.
"I see," he said. "It is as I thought. He told you more than he evertold me."
"He never told you?"
"Not much. He was a strange lad--about the loneliest one I've ever seen.There was something about him from the very first that was not natural;I couldn't make him out. You say it is the ring. He always wore it.I laid it to this Rhamda. He was always meeting him. I could neverunderstand it. Try as I would, I could not get a trace of the phantom."
"The phantom?"
"Most assuredly. Would you call him human?" His grey eyes were fleckedwith light. "Come now, Mr. Wendel, would you?"
"Well," I answered, "I don't know. Not after what I have seen. But forall that, I have proof of his sinews. I am inclined to blend thetwo. There is a law somewhere, a very natural one. The Blind Spot isundoubtedly a combination of phenomena; it has a control. We do not knowwhat it is, or where it leads to; neither do we know the motive of theRhamda. Who is he? If we knew that, we would know everything."
"And this ring?"
"I shall wear it."
"Then God help you. I watched Watson. It's plain poison. You have ayear; but you had better count on half a year; the first six monthsaren't so bad; but the last--it takes a man! Wendel, it takes a man!Already you're eating your heart out. Oh, I know--you have opened thewindows; you want sunshine and air. In six months I shall have to fightto get one open. It gets into the soul; it is stagnation; you die byinches. Better give me the ring."
"This Budge Kennedy," I evaded, "we must find him. We have time. Oneclue may lead us on. Tell me what you know of the Blind Spot."
"Very easy," he answered; "you have it all. I have been here a number ofyears. You will remember I fell into the case through intuition. I neverhad any definite proof, outside the professor's disappearance, theold lady, and that bell; unless perhaps it is the Rhamda. But from thebeginning I've been positive.
"Taking that lecture in ethics as a starter, I built up my theory.All the clues lead to this building. It's something that I cannotunderstand. It's out of the occult. It's a bit too much for me. I movedinto the place and waited. I've never forgotten that bell, nor that oldlady. You and Fenton are the only ones who have seen the Blind Spot."
I had a sudden thought.
"The Rhamda! I have read that he has the manner of inherent goodness. Isit true? You have conversed with him. I haven't."
"He has. He didn't strike me as a villain. He's intrinsic, noble, out ofself. I have often wondered."
I smiled. "Perhaps we are thinking the same thing. Is this it? The BlindSpot is a secret that man may not attain to. It is unknowable and akinto death. The Rhamda knows it. He couldn't head off the professor. Hesimply employed Dr. Holcomb's wisdom to trap him; now that he has himsecure, he intends to hold him. It is for our own good."
"Exactly. Yet--"
"Yet?"
"He was very anxious to put you and Fenton into this very Spot."
"That is so. But may it not be that we, too, knew a bit too much?"
He couldn't answer that.
Nevertheless, we were both of us convinced concerning the Rhamda. It wasmerely a digression of thought, a conjecture. He might be good; but wewere both positive of his villainy. It was his motive, of course,that weighed up his character; could we find that, we would uncovereverything.
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