“Hurray, boss, we’re saved!” called out Jim, with a gesture of triumph. “We gits a bat’ an’ dat lets us out. Pipe de lake!”
In fact, they were skimming toward a handsome sheet of water, with tall trees grouped along its margins; at its further side rose a lofty butte with perpendicular walls that gleamed like crystal. In another moment the car struck the lake near its center, and was carried along by its impetus, amidst showers of spray, at a pace which no electric launch could have rivaled. Before the impetus had exhausted itself they had been brought within a few rods of the shore; as the car came to rest Jack stepped out midleg deep in the water, took Jim on his shoulder, and waded to dry land. The tornado had vanished overhead.
“Coney Island can’t beat it!” Jim observed as Jack set him down.
“It won’t bear talking of,” said Jack gravely. He had passed through emotions during the last few minutes, the effect of which he would never lose.
They looked about them. The crystal butte was close at hand, and almost in its shadow stood a small cottage with white walls and wide-spreading eaves. A vine bearing heavy clusters of yellow flowers climbed over its porch; the door stood invitingly open; the casements were spread wide; and on the clear air was spread a fragrance which caused Jim to assume the attitude of a hound scenting quarry. His face was lifted, his nostrils sniffed eagerly, and his little black eyes, half closed, gave to his countenance an expression of dreamy voluptuousness.
Jack, whose olfactories had been slower to awake than his companion’s, looked at the urchin in astonishment. “What ails you, boy?” he demanded.
“Oh, gee, lead me to it!” breathed Jim in an unctuous murmur. “Delmonnikers never smelt like dat! Eats, boss, eats! Gimme two dozen hot dogs an’ ten plunks wort’ o’ ham-and, an’ keep de change! Lead me to it!”
By this time Jack had caught the odor, and he emitted a long-drawn “Ah-h-h!”
The perfume, rich and delicate, swam on the air and seduced the senses. With it came the realization that not since leaving New York—it might be days or years ago—had food passed his lips. No wonder if his heart had sunk under the blows of fate! Not Hercules his labors, Archimedes his inventions, or Terence Mayne his New Madison Square Building, could have been accomplished on an empty stomach. His appetite, as the odor continued to insinuate itself, dilated to heroic proportions. A kingdom for an ox roasted whole!
“Foller me, boss!” chanted Jim in gluttonous tones: “I’s on de trail!”
He was hobbling incontinently toward the cottage, which bore a touching likeness to the annex-bungalows of terrestrial summer hotels. From its chimney climbed gently upward a column of bluish smoke, which was dissipated about by languid air currents, winged with deliciousness. Jim reached the door first.
But with sublime self-restraint he halted there, poised on his crutch till his master should enter. Jack caught him up under one arm, and the next instant they found themselves staring at a table exquisitely arrayed in white damask, porcelain dishes, sparkling flagons, and glistening silver. Gracing these utensils was royal abundance of delectable soups, juicy meats, fragrant vegetables, quivering jellies, mounded cakes and fruits, the bubbling promise of vintage wines, and on a side table an urn of incomparable coffee. Lucullus was outdone!
The two adventurers seated themselves opposite each other, and Jack proceeded to do the honors. “Clear turtle, Jim,” quoth he, ladling out the golden liquid; Jim had already begun to fill his mouth with hors-d’oeuvres. “Our appetites need no stimulus, but a sip of this amontillado will spiritualize them. Turbot, I declare! I wish Uncle Sam were with us! No, let us limit ourselves to one help—that pheasant must have full justice! Perhaps the venison outdoes the sirloin, magnificent though that looks; and the burgundy harmonizes with the noble stag. A little of this jelly! Do you smoke, Jim? While we are breathing ourselves for the pudding, we might try one of these cigarettes. Jim, you are looking better!”
“Dis is heaven, ain’t it boss?” Jim inquired.
“A part of it, I hope. A glass of this champagne will fortify us for what is yet to come. Sip it reverently—it is the apotheosis of the Widow! I incline to the pie rather than to the pudding—unless you are adequate to both. I am but a man—you, a boy! I envy you! After all, even a banquet so transcendent as this serves but as preparation for the coffee and cigars. What are you saying?”
“De yaller-haired kid, boss!” Jim whispered. “She’s pipin’ us t’rough de door!”
Jack turned and beheld the smiling face of Zarga.
CHAPTER XIV
THE MAGICIAN’S HALL
ZARGA did not wait for the banqueters to recover from their surprise, but came forward at once with the air of a hostess conscious of having pleased her guests. Her bearing seemed so artless that Jack, rendered genial by the good fare, told himself that there must be something amiss in his recollection of their last meeting.
“I tried to make a dinner for you that would remind you of home,” she said. “We Saturnians don’t use food of this kind. Are you satisfied?”
Jack had risen, and could think on the spur of the moment of no better answer than the polite banality, “Only your presence at the table could have improved it!” while Jim seized the opportunity to stuff a couple of red apples and some sugar-coated cakes into his pockets.
“We ought to have waited to learn who our benefactress was,” Jack went on, being somewhat embarrassed; “but I thought only how hungry I was, and how providential—”
“Providence lets us help it sometimes!” she interrupted, laughing. “One must feel lonely in a strange country; but in their hearts all people are alike.”
Here Jim ventured an observation.
“I guess, miss, my boss t’ought you an’ Miss Mir’am was some alike dat time de blizzard hit us, back dere!”
Jack turned red; but the girl merely looked amused.
“I supposed it was one of your terrestrial customs,” she observed. “Oh, it doesn’t matter a bit; your kisses were delightful!”
This was putting the shoe on the other foot. Jack could not get the red out of his face, but he was glad to absolve this friendly little creature from the charge of unseemly boldness. After all, was it not he who had made the mistake?
“How did you know where we were?” he asked, to get the conversation on less ticklish ground.
“Oh, we know, when we want to,” she replied. “I remember Argon’s telling me you have only five senses where you live. We have some others besides, which we can use or not, as we like; just as we can either walk to a place, or be there right off. I prefer to be there right off, as a rule,” she added.
“So would I, if I knew how!” rejoined Jack with emphasis.
“There are two ways—the proper way and the magic way,” she said. “The magic way is not proper; it’s fun, though, sometimes!”
“I should think any way proper that got me to Miriam,” Jack affirmed. “I was searching for her when I found the dinner!”
“But you were glad of the dinner!”
“You said it, miss!” put in Jim. “But now we’ve got it stowed, we’re hot on de trail agin!”
Zarga glanced from one to the other, and seemed to hesitate.
“You haven’t heard, then?” she asked at length, in a tone of serious concern.
“Nothing. Have you any news?”
Zarga, with an impulsive gesture, put out her hand and laid it on his. “Do you love her very much?” she asked.
“What has happened?” exclaimed he, pale enough now.
“And she promised to love you always?” Zarga went on, looking him deep in the eyes.
“What is all this?” he demanded, a menace beginning to growl through his tones.
“Don’t be angry with me!” she entreated tremulously. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world! I’m sorry—I will say nothing more!”
“I ask your pardon,” he said, controlling himself. “Please tell me all you know. I had heard that Torpeon was pursuing her; she is to be my wife; you can imagine my anxiety! The only glimpse I’ve had of her was when you—”
“I understand! I thought perhaps Argon or Lamara would have told you. But why did they not tell you? Why should they leave it to me?”
“I haven’t seen them since they left the palace to go to the island. Then—you know how it was; there was a sudden storm of fire and darkness, and when I could see again, everything had disappeared, and—you were in my arms!”
“Yes, yes! Oh, I was frightened! The fire got into my brain. Yes, I ran away, forgetting you wouldn’t know where to go. But Miriam was rescued by Aunion and taken to Lamara’s island.”
“She is safe, then?” cried Jack joyfully.
“Now I shall have to hurt you,” she replied sadly. “She is there no longer. Torpeon sent her a message; she met him, and they went off together to Tor.”
“Who told you this silly lie?” he demanded wrathfully.
“I was there myself. I did all I could. I couldn’t prevent her.”
Jack was silent; she glanced timidly at him, then hid her face in her hands and began to sob. But Jim, who had been staring fixedly at Zarga, now touched Jack on the elbow.
“Don’t yer worry, boss,” he whispered. “De kid is stuffin’ yer. She’s nutty on yer herself—dat’s what!”
Jack, in the tumult of his emotions, neither heard nor paid attention; the counsels of wisdom are often rejected because their source is humble. Zarga moved slowly toward the door.
“Don’t go!” said Jack huskily. “Torpeon is a clever conjurer; he deceived you as well as Miriam, I suppose. To Tor, you say?”
“Do you trust me?” she faltered.
“I’m sorry if I was rude. In thinking of my enemy I forgot my friend. I never needed friends more than now.”
“It would be my happiness to make you happy,” she said, coming closer to him. “But it’s best to know the truth. I can show them to you, if you wish!”
“Show them to me—in Tor?”
“I must break our law to do it; but our laws don’t bind you, and I don’t care for myself! I know the magic of the Torides; and if you are willing, and have courage, I can make them appear before you as they are at this moment. It’s for you to say!”
“You can show me Miriam and Torpeon here and now?”
She took him by the hand, led him to the door of the cottage, and pointed to the great butte.
“In that rock there is a secret chamber, made by a great magician, in the times before the Saturnians abandoned magic. It has been sealed since his day, but I know the way to enter it. There is danger, but for me only, not for you! If you fear nothing, and do nothing violent, I think no harm will happen.”
“I don’t fear the truth; and there’s nothing else to fear,” said he.
They went forward toward the foot of the huge cliff, which towered thousands of feet straight upward; its smooth and massive front seemed beyond mortal power no less to penetrate than to scale. Within arm’s reach of it Zarga paused.
“Only you and I may enter,” she said to Jack; “a third would be fatal to us all.”
“Jim can wait in the cottage,” said Jack, turning to the little cripple. “You’ve had your dinner, Jim, and we’ll return before you’re hungry again.”
“Me stummick ain’t what’s troublin’ me, boss,” Jim replied; his misgivings had by this time become acute. “I kin pass up de eats, ef de lady’d gimme a ticket fer de gall’ry.”
But his master shook his head with a kindly look, and the urchin, greatly dejected, was fain to obey. He turned and hobbled back toward the cottage.
Zarga laid her slender hand on the rock. No crevice had been apparent; but as she pressed lightly against the surface, the crystal walls yawned slowly apart, making an opening large enough to admit them. She motioned Jack to enter; he stepped within unhesitatingly, and she followed. The opening closed behind them, but Jack, who had already gone on, found himself in a corridor, vaulted high, winding into the interior. Underfoot was a smooth floor of sparkling, white sand. Light pervaded the place, clear and mild, like that of the moon. Zarga was now beside him. He felt her soft fingers close on his own.
“Do not let go my hand till we reach the chamber,” she whispered. “The guardians left by the old magician are here, and would try to mislead you or to bar the way. None but I has been here since he departed. But they know me, and I have the clue.”
“Your hand is like fire,” murmured Jack; “what makes it so?”
“There is fire in my heart; when we are together, it burns,” was her reply. “Now be silent; we are nearly there.”
While Jack was speculating as to the significance of her answer, the walls swept apart, and he found himself in a circular hall about a hundred feet in diameter, the domed roof of which was lost in the moonlight dimness. Its perfect symmetry showed it to be human handiwork, though he could not conceive by what means the adamantine hardness of the crystal had been hollowed out, and the walls carved with devices so strange and so exquisitely wrought. The light here had a faint bluish tinge, which enhanced the solemn impressiveness of the monumental figures ranged at regular intervals round the chamber, supporting the entablature of the dome. Their faces were veiled and their heads bowed; in the molding of their bodies the human flowed into the animal; but whether man were descending into beast, or beast rising into man, could not be determined. At times it seemed as if the flux were even now proceeding, with the issue questionable. Between the figures were arched panels carved in intricate designs, perhaps symbolical and mystic; here the hues of the crystal varied prismatically through ruby, emerald, sapphire, chrysoprase and topaz. The room was paved with yellow and purple slabs disposed in coiled patterns that suggested the slow writhing of serpents; in the center stood a pentagonal block of black stone, with a circular depression in its upper surface, like a baptismal font. But it was filled not with water, but with ashes.
There was a crescent-shaped bench in front of the font, with a high back, and arms fashioned like the heads of serpents. The seat was deep, and fitted with cushions; the material was massive silver. Over one end of the bench was flung a scarf of fine tissue, gray, like smoke, and almost as diaphanous. After Jack, complying with Zarga’s indication, had seated himself, she caught up the scarf and with a movement of her hand caused it to revolve about the slender grace of her figure, as if emanating from the violet flames that clothed her body. Her hair spread itself out on the air as she began the steps of a slow dance, voluptuous and wild as that of the antique Bacchanals. Had Jack’s mind been less painfully preoccupied, he must have admitted that no vision so alluringly beautiful had ever floated before his eyes.
After thrice making the circuit of the font, Zarga stopped, and the scarf, continuing its movement, wrapped itself lightly about her. She stooped, and seemed to gather up from the pavement at the base of the font a double handful of flakes or chips, which she placed in the hollow of the stone. They at once kindled and smoldered, sending out an aromatic scent. A column of thin blue vapor rose straight upward, till it impinged upon the apex of the dome; and a deep but soft strain of music vibrated through the hall.
The incantation had begun to work.
CHAPTER XV
A FRIEND FROM THE STARS
AFTER Jack and Zarga had disappeared into the butte, Jim wheeled and hobbled back to the place where he had parted from them. It had been his intention, in spite of orders to the contrary, to slip in after them, and take a hand in whatever might be going to take place. His boss, though the first of mankind in Jim’s estimation, was not qualified to take proper care of himself.
But he was confronted by the impenetrable face of the rock, with not a crack in it large enough to admit the point of his crutch. Miracles did not perplex Jim, but they sometimes annoyed him. After eying the rock disgustedly for a few moments, he hit the great cliff a reproving tap, and retired to a small boulder hard by and sat down upon it. If the persons in whom he was interested came out by the same way that they had gone in, he would be on hand to receive them. Meanwhile, as his dessert had been interrupted by Zarga’s arrival, he took one of the apples from his pocket and began to munch it appreciatively and philosophically. “Dat kid ain’t straight, but she puts up a good feed,” was his judgement.
Before the apple had been half consumed, a plashing noise from the direction of the lake caused him to look around. Had he been Achilles or Alexander the Great, instead of a one-legged New York newsboy, the sight that met his eyes might have alarmed him. As it was, he was merely filled with a wary but delighted curiosity.
Jim had once upon a time visited the Museum of Natural History in New York, and had there, in a large saloon, beheld a plaster model of an amphibious animal which had lived, wallowed, and devoured eight million years ago. It was seventy-five feet long, twenty-five feet at the shoulder, and displayed the scaly terrors of a tail which was only less fearsome than its neck and head. Jim wished at that time that he had been born soon enough to have pursued the original of this model with a repeating-rifle and a snickersnee.
Here, now, was the animated and active grandfather of the comparatively trivial and pygmy reptile which had been revealed to him in New York. It was so big that it might have entered the category of geologic phenomena, and held its own against a range of hills. The girth of its forelegs was as that of a giant sycamore in a Southern swamp; the row of ridges down its back might have served as a fence against a Hun invasion; its jaws yawned as wide as the portals of the church of Saint John the Divine in New York; each one of its double row of several hundred teeth was as tall as a drum-major and as sharp as the blade of a Louisiana colonel’s bowie; its tail was for the most part veiled by the lake, but the end of it was stirring up whirlpools as far out in the water as a second basemen could fling a ball. The whole creature was advancing upon Jim with the gladness of a familiar friend; and though its gait was leisurely, it was able to cover an acre of ground at a stride.
It did not occur to the boy at first that the apparition was meant especially for him; any more than he would have regarded the annual procession of the New York police-force up Fifth Avenue as having been organized with an eye to his capture. The disproportion was too preposterous. Of what consequence could he be to it? A mosquito might as reasonably have looked upon itself as an adequate meal for a crocodile. But it did not take him long to modify this view. There was no viand other than himself in sight, and he had seen a lizard engulf an ant with apparent pleasure. He must stand upon his defense!
The most feasible plan that occurred to him on the spur of the moment—a spur, in this case, of exceptional urgency—was to take a sprint along the animal’s tongue and reach the comparative safety of its gullet before it could bring its teeth to bear upon him. But he was handicapped by his one-leggedness; nor, should he win to the interior, had he so much as a pen-knife to chop his way out again. Running away would be equally vain; and to side-step the charge of a creature with such a tail was to invite disaster. The two or three seconds which he devoted to these reflections had sufficed to bring his antagonist so near that the next waddle would be the final one, so far as Jim was concerned.
Jim stood up, supporting himself against the boulder, and holding his crutch at arm’s-length vertically before him. The crutch was a stout bit of blackthorn, and sharp at one end. If he could contrive to thrust the crutch between the animal’s jaws at the moment they closed upon him, it might happen to pierce the roof of its mouth, and the prick thus administered might give him a chance to slip out before being crushed to a pulp. The stratagem did not promise very well, but it was the best he could do.
“It’s a good job the boss ain’t here!” was Jim’s last thought. He looked down a glutinous abyss which seemed to extend to the bottomless pit itself. “Come on, old sockdolager!” he shouted.
A slender shaft, arrowlike, and bright as lightening, flashed before his sight and struck the stupendous snake-lizard fair in the eyeball. There it stood, buried to half its depth, quivering. With such a missile did Olympian Jove quell the revolt of the Titans.
The effect was not to be compassed by mortal senses. Jim was blown backward by the foul expulsion of the creature’s breath, executing involuntary catherine-wheels over a space of a dozen yards. He picked himself up to witness a convulsion in which earthquake, tornado, and waterspout seemed to outdo their utmost. It was accompanied by a scream which made the roar of a volcano seem to Jim’s ears like the whistle of a boy’s pipe. As the creature flounced and flung its hideous length, the waters of the lake fled away, the solid earth groaned and was riven into crevasses, and a boulder as big as a bungalow, caught in the coil of its tail, was flung upward till it looked no larger than a pebble, and when it fell again it was splintered into gravel.
What followed was, if possible, more surprising. The contortions ceased as suddenly as they had begun, and the animal lay flaccid and inert, a flood of blackness, like liquid pitch, oozing out between its jaws. As this went on, the bulk of the enormity shrunk rapidly, and the poisonous darkness of its coloring faded to a pallid, brownish hue, like a crushed tarantula. It shriveled, diminished, and disintegrated; and in a few moments all that remained of it was a heap of brittle fragments dwindling into formlessness. The lake flowed back over its bed and resumed its limpid serenity; the trees stretched their boughs over the turf, and the birds twittered and sang their tranquil music. It was difficult to believe that the late terrific uproar had been more than an evil dream.
Jim recovered his crutch, and then became aware of a personage standing a few rods away on the right, leaning upon a spear, and thoughtfully contemplating the scene of the late cataclysm. He was stately, strong, and clean-limbed, and in the prime of his youth. There was such a brightness in his aspect that it seemed to Jim that he cast a radiance around him. He recognized him at once as Solarion, who had shown his prowess in the battle with the Jovians. He hobbled toward him with an appreciative grin.
“You is sure Johnnie-on-de-Spot, mister, an’ you fetches de goods!” he exclaimed earnestly. “Dat big critter t’ought he had us locoed; an’ along you comes, quietlike, and pastes him one in de eye, an’ where is he?”
“You did the hardest part of the work yourself, Jim,” replied the other, smiling. “A stout heart is the best help in any battle. But I happened to have a dart in my hand, and I couldn’t resist letting it fly. What are you doing here—and where is Jack?”
Jim gave a terse account of their recent adventures. “So de boss is jugged wid de skirt inside dat mountain,” he concluded; “an’ me, I’s waitin’ till dey comes out to take a han’ in de game. I ain’t got no use for de yaller-haired kid; all de same, dis strangle-hold she’s got on de boss is mebbe a good t’ing. He ain’t got no prudence; an’ her keepin’ him in dere keeps him out o’ trouble, wedder or not she means it. He’s al’ays set for a scrap, my boss is; ef he’d been here, he’d ’a’ gone fer dat beast, sure, and got hurted. Now he’s huntin’ Torpy, ter git Miss Mir’am away from him; but what I wants is dis—an’ mebbe you kin give me a lift! While he’s safe in de mountain, you puts me over on de red moon, ef dat’s where she is; an’ I figgers I’d come near getting’ her free. But ef I slips up, an’ Torpy gits me—all right! De boss comes right along an’ makes his spiel; an’ at a straight show-down he kin knock Torpy over de ropes. But Torpy, he has funny stunts ter burn, an’ he might git a fake decision ef de boss ain’t put wise fust. An’ den, I arsks yer, where ’d Miss Mir’am git off?”
“Your idea is, then,” said Solarion, “to take the risk of getting killed first, in order that Jack, profiting by your experience, may have a better chance of rescuing Miriam? But why should you run your head into danger that brings you no reward, even if you win?”
Jim bent upon his interlocutor a serious and reproving glance.
”Say mister, youse ain’t playin’ up ter yer form! Lis’n here! My boss is some man, ain’t he? I guess yes! An’ he’s mushy on Miss Mir’am, an’ she on him; an’ dey’s goin’ ter do de orange-blossom an’ rice act fust t’ing dey hits N’York. On de udder han’, what am I good fer? Do I know anyt’ing? Am I a collidge guy, an’ play full-back on de team? Is dere any skirt campin’ on my trail? G’wan! I’m tellin’ yer dis worl’ is goin’ ahead right smart widout me! So what I says is, keep de boss here till me an’ Torpy has it out togedder; an’ while he’s busy lammin’ me fer keeps, snake Miss Mir’am out o’ dere and han’ her over to de boss. Dat’s all! Dat’s me! Dat’s right, ain’t it? Are yer on?”
Thus Jim spoke, with snapping eyes and graphic gestures; and as Solarion listened he became brighter and brighter, until Jim’s small person cast a long shadow behind him.
“Your plan is good,” he said, “and I’d rather be in your shoes than in Torpeon’s. We get what we are willing to pay for. May I have a look at that crutch of yours?”
“She ain’t so nifty to look at,” Jim remarked, handing it over; “but she does me all right. My dad, he brings her from de ould sod!”
Solarion examined the crutch with great attention.
“I don’t think you know what a valuable stick this is,” he said at length, returning it to the owner. “There are fairies in Ireland, you know; and when they gave this blackthorn to your father, they endowed it with a power to do wonderful things. It’s a fairy wand, and it will make itself into anything you want—a sword, a horse, a pair of wings, or an air-ship, for instance. All you have to do is rub one or another of these little knobs, and make your wish. If you want to go to Tor, it can carry you there easily; and then, if you find it necessary to fight Torpeon, I dare say you could surprise him as much as I surprised that beast just now. That’s what comes, you see, of having only one leg!”
Jim looked at his old familiar staff with new respect. It appeared the same as ever; but great gifts often go humbly clad.
“Say, mister, dat’s goin’ some! Yer ain’t stringin’ me, is yer?”
“We receive only what belongs to us,” returned Solarion, laying a hand on the boy’s head. “You are among friends, and you’ve earned their friendship. Good-by for the present, and good fortune!”
The light grew brighter than ever; but when Jim looked up, he was alone.
CHAPTER XVI
THE LASSO
LAMARA, having convinced herself that Miriam was no longer on the island bethought herself of the subterranean passage. This was a secret way to the mainland, and known to few; but one of those few was Zarga. There was no escape, therefore, from the conclusion that the girl had taken this means of continuing her treachery; but Lamara hastened to explore the cavern, and found abundant traces of the passing of both Zarga and Miriam. On the shore at the other side there were signs that sufficiently indicated the rendezvous with Torpeon and the flight to Tor.
Lamara’s intuitions, which were of the highest order, had given her a knowledge of Miriam’s heart and character, which obviated any doubt that Miriam must have been hoodwinked. But the problem of how to rescue her from her unwilling thraldom remained. The traditional usages of Saturn discountenanced aggressive action; but neither had any situation similar to this been anticipated. Unprecedented needs require the exercise of corresponding methods. Had the problem been simply the subjugation of Torpeon, and of his kingdom with him, there were resources in Saturn adequate to accomplish it; but to do so without involving Miriam in danger would be far more difficult. Torpeon would hesitate at nothing, and if driven to extremity would not scruple, Lamara feared, to sacrifice Miriam rather than surrender her. Nor was this all. Lamara had reason to suspect that he contemplated an enterprise which, were it successful, would carry him and his abode beyond the limits of Saturnian influence. It was an enterprise wild and desperate, and it might result in the annihilation of Tor itself, not to speak of serious disorders in other planets of the system. Lamara divined that his determination to keep Miriam might urge him on to the immediate prosecution of this gigantic and reckless scheme; and it behooved her to lose no time in taking measures to prevent it. Aunion and others must be consulted; meanwhile she resorted to the planetary mirror, which was in the neighborhood, to ascertain the actual present condition of affairs.
Upon entering the sunken dome, she pronounced the formula proper for her purpose, and subdued her mind to observe what should transpire.
For a few moments the eye was dark and vacant of images; then the blurred traces of a rapidly moving object appeared; it was focused an instant later, and Lamara saw Torpeon and Miriam on their way through space. The prince glanced behind him at intervals, as if from a feeling of insecurity. Miriam, her black hair flying behind her like a banner of mourning, sat motionless. What could be the cause of Torpeon’s uneasiness?
The fugitives were still within the outer confines of the Saturnian atmosphere, and approaching the ring. The vast, shining curve of the latter was in such a position that they were silhouetted against it, and every detail of their aspect and surroundings was distinct. The ring radiated sublimity; it was composed, as Lamara knew, of the crystallized bodies of those who had passed to another life from Saturn; an immeasurable mausoleum and memorial of the friends who had departed. Billions of mortal forms, in which souls had once lived and loved, were here spontaneously disposed in their innumerable ranks, enlightening the world which they encircled in ever-augmenting myriads. Each atom of that solemn army sparkled forever in its appointed place, and contributed in its degree to the far-flung splendor. And in some eon too remote for calculation the mighty circle would disintegrate to form a new and radiant planet, on which would be born and flourish and fulfil its destiny another and nobler race, to carry forward to another stage the majestic evolution of humanity.
Lamara sighed. For this divinely appointed scroll of death and life, made to remind mortal existence of the immortal future that awaited it, was now serving as the background to reveal the lawless act of a self-seeking and finite ambition. The trail of carnal passions defiles the pure pavements of the holy temple!
Her meditation was interrupted by an unexpected episode.
Into the field of vision was suddenly projected a long loop of azure light, tenuous as a spider’s web, uncoiling itself like a lasso, aimed to overtake and encircle the flying pair. Lamara immediately recognized it as a thread of power thrown out by some Saturnian pursuer to arrest the progress of the robber prince and his captive.
“It is Argon!” she murmured the next moment, as the figure of the youth swept into sight. “It is a gallant effort; but I fear he is too late. Even did it succeed, the peril would be great!”
Unless the feat could be accomplished before Torpeon could pass beyond the Saturnian atmosphere, it would be useless to attempt it. The chase was now nearing that boundary; and the risk to Miriam of a contest in mid air was obvious.
The first cast of the aerial lasso failed, passing ineffectively to one side. Argon, who had unfolded the wings which every Saturnian may employ at need, gathered up his shining line and prepared for another trial.
But Torpeon had already become aware of his predicament. The car leaped forward with redoubled impetus, causing it to sway dizzily from side to side. Miriam, aroused from her apathy by the singing of the noose, had now turned and realized what was going on. Her friends were trying to save her. Far down in the void she had seen the pursuer; the distance seemed enormous, but it was lessening. She took a breath or two to make up her mind.
Meanwhile, she controlled every expression of emotion. Torpeon, indeed, had no suspicion of her intention. He was employing all his energies to pass the pale of danger. From the corner of her eye Miriam saw the pursuer swing his arm for another cast. Should this fail, she would act!
Lamara, intently observing, discerned not the outward manifestations merely, but the thoughts which produced them. She knew Argon’s activity, courage, and address; but the hazard was too great. Yet to intervene now was impossible.
Keen like the note of a harp-string in the shrillest treble came again the sound of the noose. It reached its highest pitch, and the noose itself appeared above their heads, opening and descending. Every nerve in Miriam’s body was drawn tense for the outcome. Down came the shining circlet, carrying its message of defeat for Torpeon or of liberation for her. So truly had Argon estimated the distance that it seemed certain they would be taken. But Torpeon’s skill and foresight were not less than his.
Just as the shining cord settled around them, Torpeon, by a titanic effort, brought the car to a halt. It dropped straight downward, leaving the slip-knot to close empty above them. By another wrench at the guiding shaft he caused the vehicle to swerve violently to the left; then to start forward once more. The snare had been evaded!
The moment for Miriam’s attempt had come. She had been thrown on her knees by the sudden turning of the car; she steadied herself, and then sprang to her feet. The car staggered in its course; for an instant the sky seemed to reel; the ring flashed before her eyes, dipped, and vanished; the vast globe of Saturn impended above her head, and she caught a lightning glimpse of Argon halting in his flight, and watching, appalled, for the issue. She summoned all her energy, and leaped from the car.
What might be the consequence, she had not cared to consider; there was the chance that Argon might intercept her fall; there was the possibility that she might join the silent army of the ring. It was even conceivable that, at this immense distance from the planet, she might be borne away in an orbit of her own, and journey forever in an endless spiral through the fields of space. Anything would be preferable to enduring the dominion of the prince of Tor.
But Torpeon, though he had perhaps not anticipated a voluntary act on her part, was not unprepared for the event, and was ready to meet it. With a resolve as desperate as Miriam’s, he flung himself headlong after her as she leaped.
For the duration of a single pulse-beat, the twain hung in mid air, the gravitational force of Saturn, diminished by the counterpull of Tor, operating but feebly. Ere it could gather strength, he had thrown an arm around her. She felt its grasp, and struggled fiercely against it, but in vain. The car, dropping with them, was within reach of Torpeon’s other hand. He caught it, and still holding her, dragged himself aboard. Once more he sent it flying on its way. The bounds of Saturnian influence were passed, and Argon’s pursuit had failed.
Torpeon turned his head, his face so close to Miriam’s that his beard brushed her cheek, and searched her eyes with a look that pierced like a sword. In that glance was manifested the whole savage strength of the man. The car sped on, and presently became a mere speck in the mirror. The figure of Argon, descending, flashed into view, and Lamara left the dome and went forth to meet him.
CHAPTER XVII
THE WINGED HORSE
ARGON, on alighting, was encountered by Aunion, and the two were soon joined by Lamara. Argon bowed before her with a mortified look.
“I blundered from beginning to end,” he remarked.
“You did your best,” she replied; “none can do more, but the spirit rules the outcome. No just cause is lost through our effort to win it; it is gained, though in ways beyond our comprehension. The good we try to do may bless us even more through failure than success. It may be that to have brought these two lovers together before the appointed time would have delayed instead of hastening their final union.”
“I hoped to compensate for the mischief done by my sister,” he said dejectedly.
“That child has beguiled us all,” said Aunion. “I could almost wish that these visitors of ours had never come here. Strange influences create strange conditions, which disturb our ancient peace.”
“You are out of tune!” exclaimed Lamara. “If a new era awaits us, let us accept it with faith and joy. The birth of all good is preceded by travail. The destiny of the Saturnians cannot be separated from that of any others in the universe. If there be evil anywhere, isolation cannot heal it; it must be nursed back to health in the bosom of love. I do not regret our visitors; I welcome them, bring what they may!”
“Zarga has sinned beyond forgiveness,” declared Aunion sternly.
“I have already said that I find myself much to blame for her error,” returned Lamara quietly; “and judgement does not lie with us, old friend. Already her sin brings its own punishment. Jack’s constancy is inviolable; but we may remove him from her influence for both their sakes. Were you able to trace him?” she asked Argon.
“Torpeon and Zarga, working together, had made discovery difficult,” he said; “but I was close upon them when Miriam’s danger drew me aside. I believe I know where to find Jack and my sister. But the magician’s chamber is well guarded.”
“It is time those spells were broken,” said Aunion.
“Is the little lad, Jim, with them?” Lamara asked.
“I think not; I fear he has met with misfortune.”
“That child is very near my heart,” Lamara said. “Every thought and impulse in him is free from self. We must protect him with all our power. His love and loyalty are without stain; they shine through his quaintness like flame through a grotesque lantern.”
“Jim will play his part,” Aunion affirmed, with a smile. “It is my impression that he has found a powerful friend—Solarion himself!”
Argon had a hand to his ear. “Isn’t that the piping of the Nature people?” he exclaimed. “Yes—yonder they come! And Jim in the midst of them!”
“You are right—they are leading him in triumph!” rejoined Lamara gladly. “They feel the innocence and honesty of his soul; it is a high honor to win their affection. His goodness has found him out! But what can be his errand?”
“We shall soon learn; the imp has the gift of tongue,” observed Aunion amusedly.
The festive group drew nearer. Jim’s stature was not great; but he loomed large by contrast with his retinue. The little creatures came skipping and gamboling around him, all in high spirits, and evidently much pleased with their companion. Fauns and nymphs, hand in hand, danced and cut capers; satyrs were piping heartily on their reeds, interrupting themselves now and then to turn head-over-heels; the company had gathered flowers as they came, with which they made wreaths to decorate their new friend and themselves. Jim managed his crutch so deftly that the lack of a leg seemed to be no handicap; he hopped and pirouetted almost as nimbly as the others, and his jollity was as wholehearted as theirs. He greeted Lamara and her friends from afar, grinning wide.
“Hello, folks! What d’yer t’ink o’ dis bunch? But wait till I learns dem pipers ter play ‘Yankee Doodle’!”
“You find them good company?” asked Lamara smilingly.
Jim did a comprehensive gesture.
“Dis here hull joint is like de pantomimes down in de Bowery; when yer t’inks yer’s up ag’in trouble, de ceilin’ busts t’rough an’ down swoops de fairy wid de goods; or de stage splits up, an’ dey yanks down de vill’in out o’ sight. An’ de elf kids hops out of de bushes an’ give yer de glad hand. Yes, sir, yer has de game down fine! It’s sure some class, Sattum is; but lil, ol’ N’York has yer beat, at dat!”
While Jim thus expressed himself, his retinue withdrew a little, and watched the tall human creatures with shy curiosity.
Lamara stooped and gave the urchin a kiss. “And where are you going now?” she asked. Jim reddened and glistened under the tribute; but recovered himself.
“Me? I’s out fer blood!” he announced. “I leaves de boss ter tackle de yaller-haired kid, whilst I starts fer Torpy. I figgers you folks kin look out fer dis end of de line; but Torpy, ’tends ter him meself!”
“But how will you get to Tor” Argon asked.
“Don’ let dat worry yer, young feller! I ain’t much ter look at; but I meets up wid dat shiny gink—Sol Something he calls hisself—yer knows who I mean—he comes along, frien’ly like, an’ swots de big lizzud I was arguin’ wid; an’ after we’ve chinned fer a spell, he gives me crutch de once-over, see, an’ allows dere’s a hull kit o’ tools in her, what de fairies put dere; but I has a guess dat he done it hisself! Anyhow, she’s loaded fer bear, an’ when me an’ Torpy gits inter de ring, dere’ll be somp’n doin’, believe me!”
“Is this possible?” Argon asked Aunion in an undertone.
“I cannot interpret,” he replied, shaking his head.
“We may trust Solarion—he is of a higher order,” said Lamara. “Still, something disquiets me on the child’s account. But it is not for us to hold him back.”
“Well, folks, I’s on de war-pat’,” Jim said, handling his crutch in a peculiar manner, “an’ now I’s goin’ ter giver yer a s’prise! Kin’ly turn yer backs, all han’s, till I makes me prep-rations; an’ don’ look eroun’ till I gives de word! No peepin’ now! Abbry-cadabbry! Presto change! As yer was! What d’yer t’ink o’ dat?”
The others had indulged his humor, and now faced about again. How it had happened only Jim and perhaps the little Nature people could have told; but there Jim sat on a superb black stallion, which tossed its head, shook out its tail, and unfolded a pair of wings so wide and powerful that they seemed capable of bearing him from one end of the solar system to the other. The beautiful creature danced impatiently on its dainty hoofs, and seemed eager to be off.
“Well done, Jim! Good fortune! Safe return!” they cried; and the Nature people set up a joyful shout.
Jim settled himself in the saddle, and handled the reins with professional assurance. “Keep yer eye on de boss!” were his last words. He waved his hand, the horse gave a mighty sweep with his wings, and steed and rider bounded splendidly into the air.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BLACK MAGIC
JACK, seated in a corner of the silver bench, kept his eyes upon the column of blue vapor that rose upward from the smoldering fire in the font. But his mind was filled with somber thoughts of Miriam, and he was only superficially conscious either of the incantation or of Zarga. Of Miriam’s faith he had no doubts; but as little could he question that Torpeon had by some means contrived to convey her to his stronghold. He could not think that Zarga would willfully mislead him upon that point, though he had indignantly rejected her suggestion that Miriam had consented to it; the idea that the Saturnian maiden was herself infatuated with him could not find entrance into his straight-forward mind; his own simple loyalty kept him from suspecting others. What the incantation might reveal was a matter of conjecture, but he did not so much as allow himself to imagine that it would present Miriam in any other light than as the soul of love and faith.
The music swept out in penetrating waves, the notes vibrating insistently upon the ear with a sweet but almost intolerable monotony; but the monotony gradually became a source of fascination. It seemed to enter into his blood and control the pulsations of his heart; it had the effect of a seductive but suffocating perfume, against the influence of which one might struggle at first, but at last found an exotic delight in yielding. It soothed the outward senses, but wrought a strange excitement within. Zarga had resumed her mystic dance, and now he followed her movements with dreamy intentness; she had ceased to be a distinct personality to him, but was a part of the general scene, and represented in movement what the rest imparted by color, form and sound. Her body and limbs, exquisite in their supple eloquence, swayed and shifted like the waving of slender fronds in tropic gardens, or the rhythm of fairy surf lapsing on coral beaches. She seemed far away, yet thrillingly near; and her face, as it was recurrently turned toward him in the turnings of the dance, had the spell of beauty alternately revealed and withdrawn into the magic shadows of memory. He felt the gaze of her dark eyes more poignantly in its absence than when turned upon him.
Once more the dancer halted suddenly, with arms uplifted, and the music sang its insistent song no more. There came a volley of staccato sounds, as of a startled nightingale, and the column of vapor was agitated and broken into revolving wreaths. These twisted themselves together, forming huge figures vaguely outlined, lit by fitful gleams from the embers in the font. Zarga turned and ran swiftly toward Jack, crouching, and pressing her fingers against her temples. “It is coming—it is coming!” she cried; “put your strength round me—let me come inside your arm! I am afraid of what I’ve done!”
Jack, disconcerted, drew himself erect on the bench; but the vaporous forms now shaping themselves above the font so commanded his attention that he hardly noticed how Zarga nestled against him, warm, panting, and tremulous, like a bird seeking refuge; how her head lay on his breast, and the flexible fingers of her hand touched his face and wound themselves in his hair. His arm was about her, and from an involuntary protecting impulse he patted her shoulder; but he was absorbed in the scene before him.
The smoke-figures, condensing, appeared no longer gigantic, but assumed the stature of life. Two human apparitions were together, a man and a woman. More than their sex could not at first be determined; they sat facing each other in a deep alcove, disclosed by a semblance of draperies that hung on either side. The coloring of life, faint in the beginning, gained depth, as if an artist were adding to his gray outline more vivid touches from his palette. The living picture acquired each moment greater definition; from point to point the outlines and contours settled into certainty; and Jack’s lips grew dry as he recognized more and more unmistakably the proportions and movements of the woman he loved. For the other figure he had as yet no eyes, but he knew it could represent no other than Torpeon. His beloved, and his enemy, seated there face to face and hands in hands!
“It is false!” a voice spoke thus in the remote recesses of his soul; “a false profanation of what is sacred!” But the terrible persuasiveness of the vision overwhelmed him. The testimony of the sight, fallacious though it so constantly be, dominates the nobler assurances of the spirit; and the very struggle against the illusion causes it to take on outlines more convincing. Miriam’s face was latest to be revealed. The look it wore was the look of love in its passion; and it was lavished not on him, but on another!
Torpeon had taken both her hands in his, and was speaking with imperious urgency. Unconsciously, Jack strained Zarga’s hand in his, and his heart beat tumultuously against hers. Miriam’s eyelids fell as Torpeon pressed his appeal; her deep bosom rose and subsided in irregular breathings; by an effort, she partly turned herself away; but it was the last struggle of resistance, and her lover would not be denied. Slowly she faced him again and lifted her eyes to him; Jack ground his teeth as he saw that look. Her body relaxed and was inclined toward the pleader, with the loveliness of yielding in her smile. With a proud gesture his arms went around her, and he drew her to him; his bearded mouth met her parted lips. Jack sank back in his seat with a groan. Clouds drifted in before the picture, and it faded out and was gone. The vapors melted away, and the black font’s embers dulled into grayness. Zarga, her arms round Jack, had drawn herself up, so that her smooth cheek rested on his, and her breath touched his lips.
“Noblest and dearest,” she whispered, “I would have saved you from this grief and shame; but her wickedness must be seen to be believed. It is better to know than to doubt; she is not worth your grieving; she was never worthy of you; she would have betrayed you, whether for Torpeon, or another. But if you will see what love is, forget her, and look at me!”
Jack’s brain slowly awoke to the meaning of these words, as if he returned from a long and dreary journey. “What has happened to the world!” he muttered.
He raised himself deliberately, like a man who regains consciousness after a swoon. He took her wrists in his hands, and detached her arms from their embrace. He held her off and looked at her, sadly and searchingly.
“It is all illusion,” he said; “this and the other!”
“There is no illusion in my love!” answered the girl, in a deep murmur. “I loved you from the first moment. Had her love held true, I would had died and kept silence. But she betrayed you and I have shown you the secret that is myself! Yes, look at me! Am I not beautiful? What happiness is there that I cannot give you? Take me—know me—love me! In this world there are a thousand joys that are not dreamed of on your earth! And our years are not few, like yours, nor can age dull and enfeeble us. My power is great; I will lead you through endless delights, blooming one after another, like roses from one stem of love. Or if you long for daring deeds, mighty works, or strange adventures, fame and worship, I can launch you on such a career as no tales of heroes tell! You are made for the highest things; do not let yourself sink down before the treason of one woman! Let us live and love together, and we need not wait for death to show us immortality, for our every moment shall be immortal!”
“I know nothing of all this,” he said, in heavy tones. “What you think of me is all amiss. I’m a very ordinary creature. I love Miriam, and she loves me—that is the whole of my world and my life. We can have only one sorrow—to be separated from each other; and we want no other happiness than to be together. These visions that we have been seeing—they oppressed me for a moment; but they are gone, and they are nothing. Love is once and for all; after that, there can be no changing or choosing. It has taken what I am and given it to Miriam, and what she is, is in me. I could as soon become another man, as love another woman; I can see that you are beautiful, Zarga; but beauty is nothing to me, except as Miriam’s beauty is a part of Miriam; and I love it as a part of her. And what are endless delights? For her and me there is only one delight—our love—and that is endless; we want no other. Works, adventures, fame? My love makes me a man; and no other adventure or achievement compares with that. Miriam’s safety and happiness are my work and adventure; and for that I am here. Don’t imagine such an insanity as that you can love me, or I, you! If you will be my friend, set me on my way to save Miriam from the trouble that has befallen her; neither you nor I are foolish enough to be deceived by a smoke-wreath, no matter what images some magic-lantern may throw on it!”
Zarga faced him with clenched hands and burning eyes. “I tell you once more, she does not love you; she does not even love Torpeon; she yields to him only because he has made her believe that he can make her queen of all the planets. Her heart is as cold as a burned-out cinder; will you, with your heart of molten gold, waste yourself on her?”
A frown began to gather on Jack’s brow.
“You must not say these things,” he told her, sternly. “They are not true, and I don’t think you yourself believe them. I’ve been here too long; I will stay no longer. If you will help me to find Miriam, I will be very grateful; if not, let us part now!”
“No; you and I will never part,” she replied, in a changed voice. “I have offered you myself, and I will never let you go forth to boast of it, or to find another woman. I have brought you to the center of this rock; none but I knows how to enter it, and none can pass out from it but by my leave. Here you shall stay until you die; and I will stay with you. You say I cannot love you; I love you, and hate you, enough for that! When the end of the world comes, and the graves are rent asunder, they will find our bones here, intertwined like lovers. Let Miriam make what she can of that!”
“You have not the power to do what you say,” answered Jack. She stood between him and the entrance to the hall; he put her aside with his arms, and went forward.
But before he had advanced three paces, darkness sudden and absolute descended upon the cavern. It was like no other darkness; it was as if he had been all at once closed about by some black substance that molded itself to him like the matrix to which it holds. All sense of direction was lost; it even seemed as if he knew no longer which was below and which was above. There were whisperings in his ears; soft, mocking laughter, the padding of naked feet, long soughings of drafts through unseen crevices. He attempted to go on in the way he had started; but a few steps, carefully taken and measured, brought him up against the solid wall of the crystal rock. He set out to circumvent the chamber, remembering its circular form, and keeping one hand in touch with the wall; but after journeying for a thousand paces, more than enough to account for more than ten times the circumference of the chamber, he had arrived at nothing; there had been no interruption in the adamantine smoothness; for aught he could tell, indeed, he might have passed into some passage leading yet deeper into the heart of the butte. Again he tried to cross from one side to the other, in the hope of finding the black font, from which he might take a fresh departure; but after many minutes, with every precaution not to deviate from a straight line, he had come to no end; he might have been traveling across an empty and lightless desert. The sounds which he had at first heard had now died away, and an appalling silence had descended, like another darkness; and yet, dogging his footsteps, close behind him, invisible and inaudible, but felt something following him relentlessly; something hostile and formless. What was it? Starvation? Madness? Death? Once he wheeled suddenly and leaped with outstretched arms to grasp it. Nothing!
At length he ceased his futile efforts and stood still, with folded arms. He gathered up the forces of his will, and quieted the throbbing of his heart, which had become vehement and irregular. There was no escape; he would face that fact and accept it. Famine and death; but there should not be madness! The light of the body was gone; but the light of the mind should endure. No fear, or longing, or despair should banish from his thoughts the image of Miriam and his faith in their love. He had bought these at a great price, and he would never give them up. This was the end of his great adventure; he would meet it with the constancy of a true man.
Hark! A sound like the rising of a mighty wind; a rending and shuddering as of the throes of earthquake! The cavern rocked; the foundations of the mountain were shaken. A flicker of light divided the blackness, and at the same moment soft arms were thrown round him, and a bosom, palpitating with terror, pressed against his own. Zarga’s bosom, and her arms!
Before he could free himself, she uttered a wild cry and staggered back, pressing her hands over her heart. She stared at him in amazement and dismay; was that blood upon her fingers? The sapphire talisman still hung round Jack’s neck, and it sparkled vividly, sending forth rays like keen arrows.
Zarga sank down, and huddled with her face upon the floor. The butte was split in twain from summit to foundation, and tumbled in awful ruin to right and left. In the ragged jaws of the cleft stood the snow white figure of Lamara.
CHAPTER XIX
HOME THOUGHTS
THE genius of the Torides had qualities which more affiliated them with the people of our own earth than did that of the Saturnians. Their desire for power had stimulated them to develop the material sciences, and to experiment with a view to the physical control of nature for personal ends; whereas the Saturnians sought knowledge for the sake of its inherent goodness and beauty, and therefore aimed to obliterate self as far as they might, in order to thus remove the obstruction to influx and render themselves obedient channels of the omnipotent force. They used no writing, because such records of the past as were spiritually useful were spontaneously present with them in each passing hour, and the source of their wisdom constantly supplied them to the limits of their capacity; they built no enduring structures, because they could immediately fashion their natural surroundings into the form of their thoughts; they gave no labor to food and protection, because the substances necessary to their bodily nourishment passed into them in measure as waste created the demand, on a principle analogous to the flow of vegetable sap; and for defense, should that be required, they could so modify the vibrations of reflected light as to render themselves invisible. They were wholly occupied with the concerns of the moment; and they were independent of space, by reason of their ability not only to appear and to act at a distance mentally, but also to effect almost immediate bodily transference. The general result of all this was, not a complicated but an extremely simple manner of existence on the physical plane, interrupted on special occasions only for some exceptional purpose; their ordinary life was as artless and naïve as that of children; and they enriched their environment not otherwise than by establishing an increasing harmony between it and themselves. To this harmony was due the extension of their physical life to periods vastly beyond any imaginable limits of ours, accompanied throughout by a perfection of vigor and freshness which we ascribe to the prime of youth alone.
Widely alien from this, and more consonant with ours, were the methods and ambitions of the Torides, a self-centered and arrogant race, eager to amaze and subdue by arbitrary force, and far more conversant than are we not only with the more legitimate processes of science, but with those devices to effect illusion of sense and mental bewilderment and subjection which were practised to a limited degree by the necromancers and adepts of former ages. They were of a turbulent and restless temper, capable of daring and arduous enterprises, but always unsatisfied and unruly. Their present ruler exercised a sway over them more absolute and severe than any they had known for a long time; he possessed in the fullest degree the qualities of the Torides nature, supplemented by an intellectual training and accomplishment rivaled by no other. By means at his disposal he had acquainted himself with many details of the nature and civilization of most of the inhabitants of the planets of our system, and of our own earth especially; with the ultimate object, never yet avowed but intensely fostered, of obtaining supreme domination over them all. He had long been collecting the materials for achieving this stupendous project; and at the time of Miriam’s arrival on the scene he conceived himself to be nearly ready to attempt it. The passion for possession of her which had seized upon him appeared to him to be something far above the limitations of a personal desire to enjoy her love and beauty; he imagined that a union with her would greatly enhance his chances of success in his cosmic adventure. Working together for that end, each would multiply the other’s powers; and his actual contact with her, brief though it had been, and hostile outwardly, had confirmed his confidence in the final outcome.
Among his many studies he had not neglected research into the nature of woman, and fancied himself no tyro in that far-reaching and ramifying mystery. Miriam’s unexampled exile from her home and people would render her, he reflected, tenderly susceptible to influences that should seem to conciliate that estrangement, and to make her forget the violence and extraordinary circumstances of her seizure, and he took his measures accordingly.
After conducting her into the castle he waved aside the guards and attendants who assembled to do them honor, and led her through several halls and antechambers, massively built and furnished with austere dignity, to an upper floor where a corridor opened before them wainscoted with light-tinted and polished woods, the upper walls and ceilings colored in cheerful hues, with designs gracefully and tastefully conceived. At the end of the passage he flung open a door, and stood aside, with an obeisance, for her to enter.
Upon crossing the threshold she found herself in the outermost of a suite of rooms, the first glimpse of which almost betrayed her into an exclamation of astonishment. He was watching her closely and he smiled.
“Anything you wish is at your service here,” he said quietly. “There are women at your call to wait upon you. You are mistress of this place and of this planet. If you should be disposed to see me I will come; otherwise your privacy will be inviolate.”
The door closed and she heard his tread departing down the passage.
After standing for a few moments, looking interestedly about her, while the stern expression of her face gradually softened with pleased surprise, she walked slowly through the five or six rooms of the apartment. At every step some new object aroused her wonder and gratification. If this were magic it was admirable employed!
The site was a replica, apparently exact, of her own rooms in her father’s house on the Long Island shore. Had skilled architects and upholsterers employed months in executing a careful reproduction their success could not have been greater than had been here achieved, as it seemed, instantaneously. It was home itself! Even familiar trifles—an inlaid hand-mirror, an ivory fan from Burma, a silver flask of Damascus perfume, a color photograph of her father—were in their accustomed places. The rugs on the inlaid floors were of her own selection; the embroidery on the silken bed-covering was of her own design. Entering the room on the left of the bedchamber, which she had had fitted up as a study and laboratory, she found all her paraphernalia apparently as she had left them when going on her last visit to Mary Faust. This discovery aroused in her something more than surprise. She examined various articles minutely; then, throwing herself into the study chair, she spent some time in grave meditation. If this apparatus were as genuine as it looked, Torpeon had, no doubt, unwittingly put in her hands potent means for defeating his own plans. Before leaving her earth she had nearly completed an invention, based upon atomic disintegration, which was capable of being applied in a manner to give unexpected significance to his statement that she was “mistress of Tor.” If the result of her experiments answered their promise the words would become something more than an empty compliment.
“At any rate,” she told herself, “science is science, in one part of the universe as much as in another. But, of course, all this wonderful reproduction is a clever device to put me off my guard—an expansion of the same principle used by Hindu jugglers to beguile the senses. I seem to be at home again, but I am a prisoner here, nevertheless; and probably under constant observation. If there were only some one here whom I could trust!”
As she uttered the wish an incongruous thought of the grotesque little cripple, Jim, slipped into her mind. It was one of those unaccountable vagaries which characterize memory. She had never given more than passing attention to him. The impression was probably due to the prevailing, if sometimes subconscious, presence of Jack in her reflections; the one would suggest the other. Jack! Where was he? What was he doing or planning? Doubtless he would attempt to follow her. Aided by the Saturnians—but would they aid him? And must not Torpeon have prepared for all such contingencies? Did not the very liberality with which he treated her indicate his conviction that he was safe from attack? Yes; she must not depend upon outside assistance. She must fight for herself!
But, once more, that impression of the cripple returned to her. She half resented it. But she dismissed that feeling; the poor little creature could not be responsible for the notion. It was odd how clearly he was presented before her mind’s eye. She must have taken more exact note of him than she had supposed. Jim was the only one of the three who had undergone no outward alteration on his arrival on Saturn; the flame garments which she and Jack had assumed had not replaced, for him, the quaint, terrestrial jacket and trousers which he had worn in New York. Jim was too elementary in his simplicity to undergo change. And yet the soul of him, which was loyal, honest and affectionate, must be capable, like all true and loving souls of indefinite development. But he would always be Jim! Miriam smiled and sighed. Then she rose, with an impatient impulse, and returned to the bedroom.
Yonder was her dressing-table in the corner, with the cheval-glass standing beside it, inclined at the angle she had last given it. She walked up to it with a feminine curiosity, to see how she looked in Saturnian costume.
She was frankly startled when the reflection given back to her showed her to be wearing the same dove-colored flying-suit that was her usual dress when visiting the Long Island estate. The degree of pleasure which this gave her was perhaps not logically justifiable. It seemed to bring her real home nearer than had any of the other features of the production of her familiar surroundings—reproduction, illusion, or whatever it might be. Here she stood, as she was accustomed to see herself! It restored her self-possession. And she yielded to a genuine emotion of gratitude to Torpeon, whose foresight must have been something more than self-interested to inspire him to such a thought. It implied real interest in her.
“The creature does really care for me!” she said to herself. She seated herself in the chair before the dressing-table, and by the mere force of habit touched the bell-punch in the panel, by which she was wont to summon her personal maid, Jenny. Jenny was a New England girl, daughter of a farmer, who had been a chum of Terence Mayne before they emigrated to America. Old Mike, dying a widower in narrow circumstances, had left his daughter an orphan, and Terence, for old sake’s sake, had brought her to New York to be Miriam’s confidential attendant.
“Dear little Jenny!” murmured Miriam, as she sent the signal along the wire. “I wonder if she misses me! What kind of substitute will I get, do you suppose?”
The door leading into the servant’s quarters opened quietly, and a light step was audible approaching from behind; that was how Jenny used to come in, and the rhythm of the steps was like hers. In a moment Jenny herself stood before her mistress and dropped a curtsy with her warm Hibernian smile.
“Did you ring, miss?” The well remembered lilt of the Cork brogue—Jenny was born in Old Kinsale!
“Bring me a cup of tea, Jenny,” said Miriam. But this was mere reflex action, she had been too much amazed to express her amazement.
“Sure I will, miss, with pleasure,” Jenny relied; and turned briskly and walked out. There had been no illusion about it, no reproduction. Inanimate things might be imitated, but not a human being in flesh and blood.
Miriam had leisure before Jenny returned with the tea-things on the tray to recover her breath and to turn the matter over in her mind. But the only result of her reflections was an increased admiration for Torpeon: a being who could do this was not to be despised. It showed something more and better than control of hidden agencies; there was a grace, a delicacy, in the achievement—a manifestation of the heart—which carried still further the kindly sentiment which she had begun to feel for him, in spite of her resolve to bring his purposes to naught.
Now she heard the clink of the tea-things on the tray, and here was Jenny again, bearing the smoking teapot, the sugar, the sliced lemon, the thin slices of brown bread and butter, and the Japanese porcelain teacup and saucer.