XLV. — THE ARADNA
Thus had the professor got into actual touch with the occult—by sheer accident. Up to that time it had been only a hypothesis; now it was a fact. Next step was to open up direct communication.
“That was difficult. To begin with, I worked to repeat the phenomena I had seen, getting some haphazard results from the start. My purpose throughout was to exchange intelligent comment with the individual I had beheld on that snow-stone within the Spot; and in the end I succeeded.
“He gave me fairly explicit warning as to when the Blind Spot should open, not only to the eye, but in its entirety, as it had done for the young man of whom the old lady had told me. We agreed through signs that he would come through first.
“Understand, up to the instant of his actual arrival, I didn't know just what he was like. I had to be content with his sign-talk, by which he assured me he was a real man, material, of life and the living.
“I made my announcement. You know most of what followed. The Rhamda came to Berkeley; together we returned to Chatterton Place, for it was imperative that we hold the Spot open or at least maintain the phenomenon at such a point that we could reopen it at will. Both of us were guessing.
“Neither of us knew, at the time, just how long the Rhamda could endure our atmosphere. He had risked his life to come through; it was no more than fair that I should accede to his caution and insure him a safe return to his own world.
“But things went wrong. It was ignorance as much as accident. At Chatterton Place I was caught in the Blind Spot, and without a particle of preparation was tossed into the Thomahlia.
“When I came through, the Nervina went out. Thus I found myself in this strange place with no one to guide me. And unfortunately, or rather, fortunately, I fell into the hands of the Bar Senestro.
“Now, for all that he is a sceptic, the Senestro is a brave man; and like many another unbeliever, he has a sense of humour. My coming had been promised by Avec; so he knew that somehow I was a part of the Prophecy—the prophecy which, for reasons of his own, he did not want fulfilled.
“So he isolated me here in the house of the Jarados. A bold sort of humor, I call it—to defy the Prophecy in the very spot where it was written!
“But it was fortunate. I was in the house of the old prophet, with its stores of wisdom, secrets, raw elements and means for applying the laws of nature. All that I hitherto had only guessed at, I now had at my disposal: libraries, laboratories, everything. I was a recluse with no interruptions and perfect facility for study.
“First of all I went into their philosophy. Then into their science, and afterwards into their history. Whereupon I made a rather startling discovery.
“Apparently I AM THE JARADOS.
“For my coming had been foretold almost to the hour. As I went on with the research I found many other points that seemed familiar. Plainly there was something that had led me into the Spot; and most certainly it was not mere chance. I became convinced that not merely my own destiny, but a higher, a transcendental fate was at stake.
“In the course of time I became certain of this. Meanwhile I mastered most of the secrets of this palace—the wisdom of the ancient Jarados. Though a prisoner, I was the happiest of men—which I still remain. The Bars kept close watch over me, constantly changing their guard. And it was on one of those occasions that I found MacPherson.
“Well, after MacPherson's coming I was pretty much my own master. I induced the Senestro to allow MacPherson to remain as a constant bodyguard. But I never told Pat what was what, except that some day we should extricate ourselves.
“You may wonder why I did not open the Spot.
“There were several reasons: First, in the nature of the phenomenon it must be opened only on the earth side, except on rare occasions when certain conditions are peculiarly favourable. That's why the Rhamda Avec could not do it alone; I know now that I should have imparted to him certain technicalities. I possessed two of the keys then; now, I know there are three.
“And I have learned that each of these is a sinister thing.
“The blue stone, for instance, is life, and it is male. Rather a sweeping and ambiguous statement; but you will comprehend it in the end. Were a man to wear it it would kill him, in time; but a woman can wear it with impunity.
“Perhaps you will appreciate that statement better if you note what I have just done through the medium of that crystal. The blue gem is an inductor of the ether; in a sense, it is one of the anchors of the Spot of Life, or the Blind Spot—whatever we want to call it—the Spot of Contact.
“The other two particles—the red and the green one—are respectively the Soul and the Material. Or, let us say, the etheric embryos of these essentials.
“The three stones constitute an eternal trinity.
“As for the substance of the Spot itself, that I cannot tell, just yet. But I do know that the whole truth will come out clear in the fulfilment of the Prophecy. I am convinced that it has translated Watson, and now Harry Wendel and the Nervina.”
“Can you control it?” asked Chick.
“To a limited extent. I have been able to watch you ever since your coming. You did not know about Harry, but I saw him come—in the arms of the Nervina.”
The Nervina nodded.
“It is so. I knew the Senestro. I was afraid that Harry would fall into his hands. I had previously endeavoured to have him give the jewel to Charlotte Fenton. I didn't trust the great Bar—”
Harry interrupted, “Only because of her distrust of the Senestro did she decide to come through the Blind Spot with me. She knew what to do. As soon as we got here, she bundled me off, privately nursed me back to health if not strength, and when the time came rushed me up here at the last second to be in at the finish.”
Watson thought of the dog, Queen. She also had come through just in time to save his life. Did Harry know anything about her? When Wendel had related what he knew, Chick commented:
“It's almighty strange, Harry. Everything works out to fit in exactly with that confounded Prophecy. Perhaps that accounts for your affinity for the Nervina; it is something beyond your control, or hers. We'll have to wait and see.”
There was not long to wait. The days passed. The palace was full of Rhamdas, summoned by Dr. Holcomb, who, as the Jarados himself, was now issuing orders concerning the great day, the last of the sixteen days, now very close at hand; the day which the Rhamdas constantly alluded to as “the Day of Judgment.”
The Senestro went unmolested. Returning to the Mahovisal, he worked now to further the truths of the Prophecy.
Still the millions continued to descend upon the Mahovisal. Coming from the furthermost parts of the Thomahlia, the pilgrims' aircraft kept the air above the city constantly alive. There were days such as no man had ever known. Even the Rhamdas, trained to composure, gave evidence of the strain. The atmosphere was tense, charged with expectancy and hope. A whole world was coming to what it conceived as its judgment, and its end. And—the Spot of Life was the Blind Spot!
At last the doctor summoned the two young men. It was night, and the June Bug was waiting. This time the Geos himself was at the controls.
“We are going to the Mahovisal,” spoke the doctor—“to the Temple of the Bell and Leaf. There is still something I must know before the Judgment.” He was speaking English. “If we can bring the Prophecy to pass just so far, and no farther, we shall be able to extricate ourselves nicely. Anyway, I think we shall not return to the Palace of Light.”
He held a black leather case in his hand. He touched it with a finger.
“If this little case and its contents get through the Blind Spot it will advance civilisation—our civilisation—about a thousand-fold. So remember: Whatever happens to me, be sure and remember this case! It must go through the Spot!”
He said no more, but took his seat beside the Geos. The young men took the rear seats. In a short time they had crossed the great range of mountains and were hovering over the Mahovisal.
There was no sound. Though the city was packed with untold millions, the tension was such that scarcely a murmur came out of the metropolis. The air was magnetic, charged, strained close to the breaking point; above all, the reverence for the Last Day, and the hope, rising, accumulating, to the final supreme moment.
For the Sixteenth Day was now only forty-eight hours removed.
Both Chick and Harry realised that their lives were at stake; the doctor had made that clear. In the last minute, in the final crisis, they must crowd their way through the Blind Spot. Only the professor knew how it was to be done.
At the temple they found the Nervina and the Aradna waiting. The Jan Lucar was with them. The Geos had secured entrance by a side door. From it they could look out, themselves unobserved, over the entire building and upon the Spot of Life. The place was packed—thousands upon thousands of people, standing in silent awe and worship, one and all gazing toward the all-important Spot. There was no sound save the whisper of multitudinous breathing.
Said Harry to Chick:
“I see Queen up there!”
Harry circled the group, and bounded up the great stairs. In a moment he was patting his dog's head. She looked up and wagged her tail to show her pleasure. But she was not effusive. Somehow she wasn't just like his old shepherd. She glanced at him, and then out at the concourse below, and lolled her tongue expectantly. Then she settled back into her place and resumed watch—exactly as any of her kind would have held guard over a band of sheep.
The dog was serious. Afterward, Wendel said he had a dim notion that she was no longer a dog at all, but a mere instrument in the hand of Fate.
“What's the matter, old girl?” he asked. “Don't you like 'em?”
For answer she gave a low whine. She looked up again, and out into the throng; she repeated the whine, with a little whimper at the end.
Harry returned to the others. Nothing was said of what he had done. At once the Geos led the group through a small, half-hidden door, beyond which was a narrow, winding stairway of chocolate-coloured stone. The Geos halted.
“Dost wish the building emptied, O Jarados?”
“I do. When we come back from under the Spot of Life, we should have the place to ourselves.”
Accompanied by the two queens the Rhamda returned to the main body of the temple. Dr. Holcomb, Harry and Chick were left to themselves.
The professor took out a notebook. In it was traced a map, or chart, together with several notations.
“The three of us,” said he, “are going to take a look at the under side of the Blind Spot. This stairway leads into a secret chamber inside the foundations of the great stair; and according to this data I found in the palace, together with some calculations of my own, we ought to find some of the secrets of the Spot.”
He led the way up the steps. At the top of the flight they came to a blank, blue wall. There was no sign of a door, but in the front of the wall stood a low platform, in the centre of which was set a strange, red stone. The professor consulted his chart, then opened his black case. From it he took another stone, red like the other, but not so intense. This he touched to the first, and waited.
Inside a minute a light sprang up from the contact. Immediately Harry and Chick beheld something they had not seen on the wall—a knob, or button. The doctor pulled sharply on it. Instantly a door opened in the wall.
They passed into another room. It was not a large place—about thirty feet across, perhaps, stone-walled and with a low ceiling. From all sides a soft, intrinsic glow was given off. There were no furnishings.
But in the centre of the ceiling, occupying almost all the space overhead, a snow-white substance hung as if suspended. Were it not for its colour and its size, it might have been likened to an immense, horizontal grindstone hung in mid-air, with apparently nothing to hold it there. Around its side they could make out a narrow gap between it and the ceiling. And directly along its lower edge was a series of small, fiery jewels inset, and of the order and colour of the sign of the Jarados—red, blue and green, alternating.
The professor produced an electric torch and held it up to show that the gap between the stone and the ceiling was unbroken at any point. Then he counted the jewels on the lower edge. Chick made out twenty-four. Three were missing from their sockets—all told, then, there should have been twenty-seven.
The doctor noted the positions of the three empty sockets and, drawing a tapeline from his pocket, proceeded to measure the distances from each of the three—they were widely separated round the circle—from each other. Then he turned to Chick and Harry.
“Do you know where we are?”
“Under the Spot of Life,” it was easy to answer.
“You are in San Francisco!”
“Not in—in—” Chick hesitated.
“Yes. Exactly. This is 288 Chatterton Place—the house of the Blind Spot.” He paused for them to digest this. Then, “Harry—did you say Hobart Fenton was with you on that last night?”
“Hobart and his sister, Charlotte. I remember their coming at the last minute. They were too late, sir.”
The professor nodded.
“Well, Harry, the chances are that Hobart is not more than twenty feet away at the present moment. Charlotte may be sitting right there”—pointing to a spot at Harry's side—“this very instant. And there may be many others.
“No doubt they are working hard to solve the mystery. Unfortunately the best they can do is to guess. We hold the key. That is—I should correct that statement—we hold the knowledge, and they hold the keys.”
“The keys?” Harry wanted to know more.
The professor pointed to the three empty sockets in the great white stone above their heads. “These three missing stones are the keys. Until they are reset we cannot control the Spot. I had found two of them before I came through. I take it that both of you remember the blue one?”
“I think,” agreed Chick, “that neither of us is ever likely to forget it! Eh, Harry?”
The professor smiled. He was holding the light up to the snow-stone, at a spot that would have been the point of intersection had lines been drawn from the three missing gems, and the resulting triangle centred. He held his hand up to the substance. It was slightly rough at that point, as though it had been frozen.
Then he ran his fingers across the surrounding surface.
“Ah!” he exclaimed. “I thought so! That helps considerably. Chick—put your hand up here. What do you feel?”
“Rough,” said Chick, feeling the intersection point. “Slightly so, but cold and—and magnetic.”
“Now feel here.”
“Cool and magnetic, doctor; but smooth. What does it prove?”
“Let's see; do you understand the term 'electrolysis'? Good. Well, there should be another clue—not similar, but supplementary, or rather, complementary—on the earth side. Perhaps one of you found it while you lived in that house.” The professor eyed both men anxiously. “Did either of you find a stain, or anything of that sort, on the walls, ceiling, or floor of any room there?”
Both shook their heads.
“Well, there ought to be,” frowned the doctor. “I am positive that, should we return now, we could locate some such phenomenon. From this side it is very easy to account for; it's simply the disintegrating effect of the current, constantly impinging at the point of contact or the intersection. Having acted on this side, it must have left some mark on the other.”
Watson was still running his hand over the snow-stone. Once before, when he had stood barefooted in the contest with the Senestro, he had noted its cold magnetism.
“What is this substance, professor?”
“That, I have not been able to discover. I would call it neutral element, for want of a more exact term; something that touches both aspects of the spectrum.”
“Both aspects of the spectrum?”
“Yes; as nearly as the limitations of my vocabulary will permit. If you recall, I showed you a simple experiment the other day in the palace. By means of an inductor I drew out the iron principle from the ether and built up the metal. Only it was not precisely iron but its Thomahlian equivalent. Had you been on the earth side you would have seen nothing at all, not even myself. I was on the wrong aspect of the spectrum.
“Also, you see here the Jaradic colours—the crimson, green and blue—the shades between, the iridescence and the shadows. Had you been on the other side you wouldn't have seen one of them; they are not precisely our own colours, but their equivalents on this side of the Spot.
“In the final analysis, as I said before, it gets down to ether, to speed and vibration—and still at last to the perceptive limitations of our own earthly five senses. Just stop and consider how limited we are! Only five senses—why, even insects have six. Then consider that all matter, when we get to the bottom of it, is differentiated and condensed ether, focused into various mathematical arrangements, as numberless as the particles of the universe. Of these our five senses pick out a very small proportion indeed.
“This is one way to account for the Blind Spot. It may be merely another phase of the spectrum—not simply the unexplored regions of the infra-red or the ultra-violet, but a region co-existent with what we normally apprehend, and making itself manifest through apertures in what we, with our extremely limited sense-grasp, think to be a continuous spectrum. I throw out the idea mainly as a suggestion. It is not necessarily the true explanation.
“Let us go a bit farther. Remember, we are still upon the earth. And that we are still in San Francisco, although all the while we are also in the Mahovisal. This is 288 Chatterton Place, and at the same time it is the Temple of the Bell. It might be a hundred or a thousand other places just as well, too, if my hypothesis is correct; which we shall see.
“Now, what does this mean? Simply this, gentlemen, that we five-sensed people have failed to grasp the true meaning of the word 'Infinity.' We look out toward the stars, fancying that only in unlimited space can we find the infinite. We little suspect we ourselves are infinity! It is only our five senses that make us finite.
“As soon as we grasp this the so-called spiritual realm becomes a very substantial fact. We begin to apprehend the occult. Our five-sensed world is merely a highly specialized phase of infinity. Material or spiritual—it is all the same. That's why we look on the Thomahlians as occult, and why they consider us in the same light.
“It is strictly a question of sense perception and limitations, which can be covered by the word, 'viewpoint.' Viewpoint—that is all it amounts to.
“There is no such thing as unreality; but there is most certainly such a thing as relativity, and all life is real.
“Of course I knew nothing of this until the discovery of the Blind Spot. It will, I think, prove to be one of the greatest events in history. It will silence the sceptics, and form a bulwark for all religion. And it will make us all appreciate our Creator the more.”
The professor stopped. For some moments there was silence.
“What are we to do now?” asked Harry.
But the professor chose not to answer. With his tape he began taking a fresh series of measurements, with reference to the empty sockets and one particularly brilliant red gem, which seemed to be “number one” in the circle. From time to time the doctor jotted down the results and made short calculations. Presently he said: “That ought to be enough. Now suppose we—”
At that instant something happened. Harry Wendel caught him by the shoulder. He pointed to the suspended stone.
It was moving!
It was revolving, almost imperceptibly, like some vast wheel turning on its axis. So slowly did it rotate, the motion would have escaped attention were it not for the gems and their brilliance.
Suddenly it came to a stop, short and quick, as though it had dropped into a notch. And from above they heard the deep, solemn clang of the temple bell.
“What is that?” asked Harry, startled. “Who moved the stone?”
“Can it be,” flashed Chick, “that Hobart Fenton has found the keys?”
“That remains to be seen!” from the doctor. “Come—we must find out what has happened!”
Within a minute they knew. As they came out of the private door on the now emptied floor of the great temple, they saw the senior queen, the Nervina, coming down the great stairway from the Spot of Life.
“What is it?” called Harry, apprehensively.
“The Aradna!” she replied. Her voice was curiously strained. “Something happened, and—she has fallen through the Spot!”
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