The Soul Stealer

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER XI

  BEEF TEA AND A PHOSPHATE SOLUTION

  Sir William Gouldesbrough remained in Brighton for three days. EustaceCharliewood had died in two minutes after the lift-man and the scientisthad burst into the room. The suicide had said no word, and indeed wasabsolutely unconscious from the moment the shot had been fired, untilhis almost immediate death.

  Sir William had made all the necessary arrangements. He had communicatedwith old Sir Miles Charliewood, of Norfolk, he had expedited thearrangements for the inquest, and he was, as the newspapers said,"overcome with grief at the death of his old and valued friend."

  During the three days, the demeanour of the famous scientist wasreported on with great admiration in all quarters. He had known ofnothing to cause Mr. Eustace Charliewood any trouble or worry, and hewas struck down by the loss he had sustained.

  "It shows," many of the leading people in Brighton said to each other,"that science is, after all, not the de-humanizing agency it ispopularly said to be. Here is perhaps the most famous scientific man ofthe age, grieving like a brother for his friend, a mere society man ofcharming manners and without any intellectual attainments. Melancholy asthe occasion is, it has served to bring out some fine and noble traitsin a man whose private life has always been something of a mystery tothe public."

  The inquest was a short one. There were few witnesses. One or twointimate friends of the dead man came down from London--club friendsthese--and testified that they knew of nothing which could have promptedthe suicide, though the dead man had been noticed to be somewhatdepressed for the last fortnight or so.

  Sir William himself, in a short but learned exposition given during thecourse of his evidence, pronounced it as his opinion that EustaceCharliewood had been suddenly seized by one of those unexplainableimpulses of mania which, like a scarlet thread, sometimes lurkunsuspected for years in the pearly cells of the brain.

  His view was accepted by the coroner and the jury, and the usual verdictof temporary insanity was returned.

  "He was," Sir William had said at the close of the evidence and in avoice broken with deep feeling, "the best and truest friend I have everhad. Our walks in life were utterly different. He took no interest in,nor did he understand, my scientific work. And I, on the other hand,took very little part in the social duties and amusements which made upthe greater part of Mr. Eustace Charliewood's life. Perhaps for thatvery reason we were the more closely drawn together. No one will everknow, perhaps, the real underlying goodness, generosity and faithfulnessin my dead friend's character. I cannot go into details of his privatelife, I can only say that the mysterious seizure which has robbedsociety of one of its ornaments, has taken from the world a gentleman inevery thought and deed, a type of man we can ill afford to lose in theEngland of to-day."

  Young Lord Landsend, who, with Mr. Percy Alemare, had attended theinquest from London, looked at his friend with a somewhat cynical smile,as the deep voice of Sir William Gouldesbrough faltered in itsperoration. Mr. Percy Alemare replied to the smile with a momentarywink. Both of the young men were very sorry that Eustace Charliewood haddropped out so suddenly. They had liked him well enough, but theycertainly had not discerned the innate nobility of character, sofeelingly set forth by Sir William Gouldesbrough, and so fully reportedby the newspaper-men present.

  Afterwards, in the hotel, old Sir Miles Charliewood had shaken thescientist warmly by the hand.

  "What I have heard you say, Sir," he said, "comforted me very much. Iwish poor Eustace's eldest brother had been here to hear you say it. ButJames is in India with his regiment. Eustace did not come to us atCharliewood Hall. There were family reasons of long standing, why therewas a breach between his family and himself. These, Sir William, I willnot enter into here. But death heals all breaches, and rememberingEustace as a bright and happy boy at Eton, before we became estranged, Ifeel a father's natural sorrow. But let me say, Sir William, once more,that you have lightened that sorrow somewhat. I had regarded my son asliving a useless and selfish life upon the allowance I was in the habitof paying into his bank. To hear that there was an underlying strata ofgoodness and nobleness in his character is indeed a solace."

  Sir William had bowed, and old Sir Miles, a courtly old gentleman ofgreat age, whose grief had not prevented him from making an excellentdinner the evening before, and from passing somewhat acrid criticismsupon the hotel wine, drove away to the station, smoking a cigar, andfeeling that the troublesome and unpleasant episode was well over.

  Thus, Mr. Eustace Charliewood, man about town, made his sudden exit fromVanity Fair.

  Thus, Sir William Gouldesbrough, F.R.S., had another secret to lock upin the sombre recesses of his brain.

  During the three days that he had been forced to remain in Brighton bythe tragedy, Sir William had seen something of the two ladies at thePalace Hotel.

  Both Lady Poole and Marjorie during that time had come insensibly tolean upon him, and to ask his advice about this or that. A terrible gaphad been created in Marjorie's life, and though Gouldesbrough could notfill it, he came at the right moment to comfort and sustain.

  Before he returned to London, Sir William had gradually glided into anew relation with the girl to whom he had been engaged. He found hispower over her had increased. She was more dependent and subservient inher great trouble than she had ever been during the time when she waspromised to be his wife, and he must sue for favours.

  And Gouldesbrough noticed also that, though the girl's grief seemed inno way lessened her hopes of ever seeing Guy Rathbone again seemed tobe dwindling. The cunning words that he had spoken, the little hint of avulgar Circe was perhaps beginning to germinate within Marjorie's brain.She was too loyal to believe any such statement, but, nevertheless, ithad an unconscious influence with her. At any rate, she began to ceasediscussion of the mystery, and there was the hinting of a comingresignation to the hard and impenetrable fact.

  This at least was what Sir William Gouldesbrough deduced.

  Trained watcher of the mind and human impulse as he was, psychologist ofmarvellous knowledge and penetration, he began to see, or so he thoughtto himself, that all was not yet lost, that it might well be that theevents of the last few weeks would some day--not yet or soon, but someday--place him upon a higher pedestal than ever before.

  On the evening of the fourth day after his arrival, Sir WilliamGouldesbrough returned to town. In the afternoon he had driven with LordLandsend and Percy Alemare to the cemetery.

  It had been a cold and blustering afternoon, and the plain hearse andthe single carriage that followed it had trotted through thesemi-deserted streets until the grave-side was reached. The shiveringvicar of a neighbouring church, whose turn it was to take the cemeteryduty for the week, had said the words of the burial-service, and in somehalf-an-hour all that was mortal of Mr. Eustace Charliewood haddisappeared for ever and a day.

  He would never stroll up Bond Street in his fur coat any more. Neveragain would he chat with the head-waiter upon the important question ofa lunch. No longer would Mr. Proctor, the masseur, set the little rubberhammers to beat out the lines of dissipation upon that weak and handsomeface. Mr. Eustace Charliewood had resigned his membership of the St.James's Street Clubs, and had passed out of Vanity Fair into the night.

  After the funeral, Gouldesbrough went to say good-bye to Lady Poole andMarjorie. His last words to them were these--

  "I shall go on," he said, "doing all that I can in every possible way.And everything that I do I will let you know, and if I can discover theslightest clue to this terrible mystery, you shall hear it at once. Butdon't buoy yourself up with false hopes, that is all I ask. None of uscan say what the future may have in store, but for my part I have notmuch hope. It may seem a cruel thing for me to say, Marjorie, but Ithink it is my duty to say it. Bear up and be brave, and remember that Iam always close by to do anything I can in any and every way to help youand your mother."

  And when he had gone, the two ladies, sitting in the twilight befor
e theglowing fire in the open hearth of the hotel sitting-room, had felt thatsomething, some one, who had become necessary to them, had departed.

  Sir William Gouldesbrough travelled up to Victoria in a Pullman car. Hesat in his arm-chair before a little table, on which was a pile ofevening papers. During the first ten minutes he had glanced through allof them, and only one part of the news' columns claimed hisattention--this was the portion of the paper devoted to the "RathboneMystery."

  He noticed that already the clamour and agitation was beginning to diedown. The shrewd purveyors of news were beginning to realize that themystery was not likely to be solved, and that the public appetite wassatiated with it.

  The two columns or more which had been usual in the early days ofRathbone's disappearance, had now dwindled to a single three-quarters ofa column. Sir William realized that the public interest was alreadydying out.

  For a few minutes, when he had methodically folded the papers in a pile,he allowed his thoughts to dwell upon the recent incidents at Brighton.

  Charliewood had killed himself. What did that mean? It simply meant thatEustace Charliewood was out of the way. The baronet had not a singleregret in his mind. Despite the geniality of his manner to his latehenchman, when circumstances had seemed to require that, he had regardedhim as simply a servant and a tool, and as of considerably lessimportance in the scheme of things than, say, a delicate induction coil,or a new drum armature.

  Then there was Marjorie. In his quick summarizing way, allowing noemotion to enter his brain at the moment, Sir William reviewed thataspect of his Brighton visit too. Well, that also was satisfactory.Things were going indeed far better than he had hoped. He hadaccomplished exactly what he had meant to do, rather more indeed, and hehad done so with singular success. His position with Lady Poole and herdaughter was perhaps stronger than it had ever been, even in the dayswhen his position was, so to speak, an official one. Good again!

  And with that, the cool, hard intellect dismissed personal affairsentirely, and with a sigh of relief the physical body of the man leantback in his chair, while the brain went swiftly and gladly into the highrealms of science.

  At Victoria, Sir William's motor brougham was waiting, and he was drivenswiftly through the lighted streets of London towards his own house inRegent's Park. He smoked a cigar and bent forward, looking at the movingpanorama of people under the gas-lamps, as a man sits in an arm-chairand lets the world defile before him. And as he watched the countlessthrongs, streams that moved and pulsed in the arteries of the great cityas the blood moves and pulses in the veins and arteries of man, he wasfilled with a tremendous exultation and pride.

  Soon, ah, soon! he would be master of every single mind and soul that,housed in its envelope of flesh, flitted so rapidly past the windows ofthe swift-moving machine in which he sat.

  No secrets, great or small, noble or petty, worthy or evil, would behidden from him, and he, alone, by the power of his intellect and theabnormal force of his will, had wrested from nature the most stupendousand mysterious of all her secrets.

  There was but little more to be done now, before the great inventionwould be shown to the leading scientists of the world.

  Already slight hints, thin rumours of what was being done in thelaboratories of Regent's Park, were beginning to filter through the mostimportant scientific circles. A paper read by Sir William at the BritishAssociation, a guarded article contributed to the _Nineteenth Century_,propounding some most daring theories as to the real action of themind, had already prepared some of the shrewdest brains in Europe for apossible revelation of something stupendously startling in the realms ofscientific achievement.

  A few keen and brilliant brains had realized, if Sir William was right,even in these preliminary conclusions, whither the conclusions tended.Lesser scientists who could not see so far, knew nothing. The man in thestreet was only aware that the great scientist had been working foryears upon abstruse problems which had no interest for him whatever.

  But, nevertheless, in the highest circles, there was an indubitable stirand rumour.

  Yes! But little now remained to be done before absolute perfection ofthe invention was obtained. A few more experiments, more delicate anddecisive than any that had gone before, still remained to be made. Theapparatus itself was completed. Its working under certain conditions wascertain. It was still necessary, however, to test it by means ofcontinuous experiments upon a living human brain.

  During the last year of their work, Gouldesbrough and Wilson Guest hadbegun to realize this last necessity with increasing conviction. Theysaw that the coping-stone of the marvellous edifice which they hadslowly built up through the years, was now resolving itself into this,and this alone. Neither had said as much to each other in so manywords, until some four months ago. Then, upon one memorable night, when,excited by drink to an unusual freedom and openness of speech, Guest hadvoiced the unspoken thought of his master and himself.

  A human brain, a living human brain, in a living human body was anabsolute and final requirement.

  There were not wanting, there never have been wanting, scientificenthusiasts who will submit themselves to experiment. But in this case avoluntary subject was impossible, for reasons which will presentlyappear. It became a definite problem with the two men as to how, and bywhat means, they should obtain a living creature who should beabsolutely subject to their will.

  And then chance had provided Sir William with the unique opportunity. Hehad seen his way to rid himself of a hated rival, and to provide asubject for experiment at one and the same time. He had not hesitated.Brains so far removed from the ordinary sphere of humanity as his neverhesitate at anything.

  Guy Rathbone had disappeared.

  The motor stopped at the door in the great, grim wall which surroundedSir William's house. He said good-night to the chauffeur who lookedafter his two cars at a garage some half-a-mile away, and opened thewicket with his key.

  As he walked through the dark garden and saw the great square block ofthe house looming up before him, it was with a quickening sense ofanticipation and pleasure. All the worries of his life were momentarilyover and done with, he was coming back to his great passion, to his lifework, the service of science!

  It was about ten o'clock, and as he opened the front door and came intothe hall, everything was silent and still. He lifted up the padded stickwhich hung beside the dinner-gong and struck the metal, standing stillwhile the deep booming note echoed mournfully through the house.

  The butler did not answer the summons. Sir William realized that the manmust be out; Wilson Guest had probably given the servants an evening'sholiday for some purpose of his own.

  He crossed the dimly-lit hall, pushed open the baize door which led tothe study, and entered his own room.

  The fire was burning brightly, the electric lights glowed, but the placewas quite empty. On his writing-table were a pile of letters, on a roundtable set beside the fire was a cold chicken and a bottle of claret.Obviously his first surmise had been right, and the servants were out.

  He left the study, proceeded onwards down the passage and unlockedanother door, a door through which no one but himself and Guest wereallowed to penetrate, a door that was always kept locked, and which ledto the laboratories, mechanical rooms, and invention studios, which hadbeen built out at the back of the house over what were once the tennislawns, and occupied a considerable area.

  Locking the door behind him, Sir William went on down a short passage.The first door on the right had the letter "A" painted on it in white.

  He opened this door and looked in.

  The room was empty, though it was brilliantly lit. It was a place filledwith large tables, on which there were drawing instruments, sheets offigures and tracings.

  Guest was not there.

  Closing the door again and passing onward, Sir William entered thechemical laboratory, a long, low place, lit by a sky-light in day, andby electricity at night. As he opened the door quietly, he heard soundsof moveme
nt. And then immediately, at the far end of the laboratory, hesaw the man he was looking for.

  The place was in entire darkness save at one end, where two incandescentbulbs glowed above an experiment table.

  The assistant was bending over a Bunsen burner above which a large glasstube was clamped, in which some liquid was boiling.

  Suddenly he heard Sir William's advancing footsteps, and leapt up. For asingle moment the grey-pink hairless face was suffused with furtiveterror at the sound. It shone out in the light of the lamps clear anddistinct, though the lower part of the body was hidden by the darkness.

  "Here you are then," Gouldesbrough said. "The whole house seemsdeserted."

  Guest sighed with relief, and then began to titter in his curious,almost feminine, way--

  "By Jove!" he said, "you startled me, William. I had no idea when you'dbe back. My nerves are like lumps of wet velvet. He! he!"

  His hand shook as he came forward to greet his chief. Sir William knewwell that this man was a consistent and secret drunkard, and he nevermade any comment on the fact. Guest was at liberty to do exactly as hepleased, to gratify his vices to the full--because Guest, drunk orsober, was a complete and brilliant helper, and because Sir William notonly could not do without him, but knew that the man was his, body andmind, so long as he was allowed to indulge himself as he would. Yet, asthe greater man shook hands with the lesser, he was conscious of asudden thrill of repulsion at the filthy fears of the sensualist.

  "Yes, I'm back," Gouldesbrough answered, "and everything has gone verywell. I suppose you have seen that Eustace Charliewood killed himself?"

  "Yes, I did," Guest answered, "and for a few hours I was considerablytroubled about it. Then I saw by the paper that you were down there, soI knew it would be all right. He never said anything, of course, or leftanything behind him?"

  "Only a letter to me, which I destroyed."

  "Good," Guest answered, and his interest in Eustace Charliewood and hisend ceased immediately. "Well, I've lots to tell you. I've gone as faras I could on my own lines, but I've been longing for you to come back.My dear William, it's simply splendid! How right you have been always!How absolutely necessary it was to have a living brain to experimenton!"

  "How is the man, in good health?"

  "Well, of course there's been a considerable waste of tissue, and theabsolute lack of exercise has had its effect. But the cell is wellventilated with an electric fan which I keep constantly going, and Iallow the subject to read two or three hours every day--such books as hemay ask for. The rest of the time I turn out the light, after I havefixed on the cap. I find that the thought images thrown upon the screenin room "D" are more vivid when the subject is kept in darkness. Still,speaking as a whole, the physical health is good, and it's singular howvivid the thought pictures are, which shows that the cerebrum is in aperfectly strong and healthy condition. As you know, it is from thatpart of the brain we get all our voluntary and actual pictures;therefore, we are to be congratulated that there is no weakness in thatregard so far. Still, when you came in, I was just preparing a phosphatesolution which I'm going to mix with the subject's soup, which he willtake in an hour or so. Three or four days' phosphate treatment willintensify the vibrations within the magnetic field of the cap. I wasdoing this in view of your return, when we shall really begin toexperiment seriously."

  "Have you had any trouble, physical trouble I mean, with the subject?"Gouldesbrough asked.

  "Oh, no," Guest replied indifferently. "Of course he's as strong as ahorse, but the aluminium fetters and the system of india-rubber cordthat you suggested, have proved all that was necessary. I can render himquite helpless directly I get inside the cell and before he couldpossibly reach me. Then fitting the cap is a simple matter. The head isrigid in the vulcanite depression which encloses the neck, and there isno resistance at all."

  "Good," Gouldesbrough answered. "Curiously enough, I found that designin a strange old book published at the time of the Reformation,detailing some of the methods of the Holy Office in Spain, withappropriate wood cuts."

  Guest chuckled horribly.

  "Of course as yet," Gouldesbrough went on in calm, even tones, "thesubject has not the slightest idea what the experiments mean? He doesn'tknow why you fit on the receiver? He is quite in the dark?"

  "Entirely," Guest answered, "and he is at a loss to imagine what we aredoing to him."

  "Ah, well," Gouldesbrough replied, "when we do tell him----"

  "It will be lovely," the assistant replied, tittering once more, "towatch the pictures that come on the screen when he knows that we arereading his inmost thoughts when he tries to control them, to alterthem, and fails in his agony! When he realizes that he doesn't belong tohimself any more!"

  The creature rubbed its plump and delicate hands together in an ecstasyof evil enjoyment.

  "I suppose," Gouldesbrough said with some slight hesitation, "you'vegathered a good deal of the fellow's opinions, memories, etc., lately?"

  "Never had such an amusing time in all my life," Guest answered. "I'vegone down and put on the cap and tied him up, and I've come up and satalone in front of the screen in Room "D," turned on the generatingcurrent and sat in an arm-chair with a bottle of whisky at my side, andlaughed till I cried! You'll learn a few home truths about yourself,William, before very long. The curious thing is, that whenever yourpicture comes upon the screen, it's all distorted. You are a fairlypassable-looking man, as men go, William, but you should see yourself asthis man sees you in his brain."

  He laughed once more, malicious and horrible laughter which echoed highup in the sky-light of this weird and empty place.

  Gouldesbrough made an impatient movement.

  "How do you mean?" he said.

  "Well," Guest answered, intensely enjoying the situation, "I've seen agood many pictures of nasty ugly looking devils and monsters, and I'vebeen in the Weirtz Museum at Brussels, but no artist who ever painted ordrew, and no man who ever modelled in wax, ever made such a face as thisman's brain makes of you, when he thinks of you!"

  Gouldesbrough laughed grimly.

  "Poor devil," he said indifferently, "he naturally would. But I'm gladwe have got such an excellent brain for experiment. The Pons Varoliimust be exceptionally active."

  "I should think it was," Guest answered. "You should see the picturesthat come on the screen when he is thinking of Marjorie Poole!"

  Gouldesbrough started.

  "How do you mean?" he said.

  "Well," Guest replied, turning off the blue flame of the Bunsen burner,and stirring the mixture in the test-tube with a glass rod--"well,Marjorie Poole's a pretty girl, but when this man calls her up in hismemory, she's a sort of angel. You know what a difficulty we had when wegot over the Lithium lines in the ash of the muscular tissue of theblood, which had to be translated through the new spectroscope intoactual colour upon the screen? Well, we did get over it, but when thesubject thinks of Marjorie Poole, the colour all fades out of thepicture, the actual primary colours, I mean. The girl flashes out intothe dark in white light, like a sort of angel! and the first time I sawit I jumped up from my chair, shut off the connecting switch and turnedup the lamps. It was so unlike any of the other pictures we have evergot, and for a moment I thought I had been over-doing it a little in thewhisky line."

  Gouldesbrough stopped the strange inhuman creature in his unholyamusement.

  "Well, I'm going to bed now," he said. "We'll begin work to-morrow. Isaw some supper put out for me in the study."

  "Right oh," Guest answered. "Good-night then, William. I'm going to takethe beef broth and phosphates to our Brain down below in the cell."