CHAPTER XI.
UP AGAINST IT.
"But, Bill, Bill, old chum,"--and the Mystic shook like a mold ofjelly. "I _must_ away. My body, don't you know? My body that I amgoing to need very shortly--is in danger. Even at this great distanceI sense the approach of those wild beasts. Pray let me return for abrief time to my studies of the abstract. I'm already away behind inYog. Release me old boy, release me, I must hence!"
"I say, Leff, if I'd let up on you would you swear by theOne-Horned-Hair-of-the-Sacred-Rabbit never to show yourself again inKankakee?"
"But, the law--the law"--groaned the erring lover, and he gazed uponhis Lady-Bird in an unutterable fashion."How--are--we--to--get--around--Chemistry? I--we--are not to blame--"
"Enough," snorted Bill Vanderhook. "No more fooling," and it was nowthe baseball captain to the front.
"But my body," pleaded Lonnie. "It will be eaten. Do you hear me? Itwill be eaten, chewed up, and destroyed."
"Well," said Bill impatiently, "what if it is? What then?"
"What then?" cried the Seer excitedly. "Why, don't you see that I'llbe regularly dead? Just dead, and my body no good to me? Why, don'tyou know that I'll be nothing then but a mere angel? Don't you knowthat I'll be altogether confined to another world? I'll be a Mystic nolonger? Nor be able thus to materialize, and to travel at will--to--"
"Aha! That hadn't occurred to me," chuckled Bill. "I see. I see. Andin that case you can't crawl back into your terrestrial jacket andcome back to marry Mrs. V. when she succeeds in getting that divorce?Aha! good! I see, and wouldn't that be one on you? But"--and theinjured husband once more became the scientist. "I say, Leff,--supposeyou telep to some old Yogy to go and get that body of yours and shipit to me. I give you my word that you'll not need it again; and I'dlike it more'n anything for chemical analysis. Have it sent C. O. D.of course."
"Monster!" again sobbed Imogene.
The Mystic was speechless with horror.
"How selfish you people are. Can't you see of what enormous scientificvalue that cadaver would be? You'd even block this experiment rightnow when it's on the verge of success. You have no sort of gratitudenor interest in the welfare of posterity. I arranged this wholeexhibit quietly. And even yet I am willing to conceal your depravity,but the advancement of science ought to mean something to you, and youshould be glad to make a few small sacrifices yourself. Think of thetime and money I've squandered in experimenting while you were sittingon my Bagdad entertaining yourself with my wife. In order that thisdemonstration might do credit to us all I went down east, down toJersey to consult Edison personally, and at his suggestion I boughtthis plant, which was constructed under his orders.
"And I tell you," continued Bill, "that there's a wizard what is awizard. He can give you cards and spades any time in the moon. Justlet me call your attention to the machine itself. In other words, getonto it."
"And that I seem unwittingly to have done," said Mr. Leffingwellmournfully.
"And it's a daisy dynamo, I tell you. It produces, for its size,electricity at a higher pressure than any other machine in the world.Why, the output of this little power is sufficient to keep fivethousand incandescent lamps burning at the same time. It can knock anordinary man silly in the fraction of a second. And with its twothousand volts I can lay you out in a minute"--said Bill, noddingenthusiastically toward the cylinder. "Understand, this is an improvedmachine which in detail, of course, you couldn't understand. Theincrease of power here isn't through the size of the dynamo, but by anew armature and the field-magnets. This produces in the current whatwe call the Three-Phase-Alternating-System which you will observe tobe a corker. Edison gave me points and I tell you I've got a machineto fit--to fit--the crime. See?"
Mr. Leffingwell "saw," but he made no attempt to "pass." He only bowedhis head sorrowfully.
"But look here, good people; we're wasting a lot of time," said Billpresently. "And I think it is about time this mill was pulledoff"--and he now bent eagerly forward, his hand upon the lever and hiseyes riveted upon the "Exhibit," reminding Alonzo of the position heused to assume when set to bat a ball.
"Notice, please," said Bill, "that I am able at will to increase ordecrease this current which prevents your escape from the sphere ofattraction. You will see that I am thus able nicely to regulate yourspeed from the slow and comfortable to the dizzy and dangerous."
"Dangerous? Dangerous, did you say? I hardly understand you"--falteredthe Mystic, paling as he spoke.
"Let me illustrate,"--and the hand of the avenger sought the lever.
The little monster whirled fiercely, increasing with each revolutionboth the speed and the terror of its victim. Faster and faster whirledthe cylinder. Faster and faster flew the lately fascinating Seer.
"Hold,--hold,--I--I--I--must ask--one--question," shrilled brokenlyupon the sparkling air.
"Certainly," responded Bill, lessening the current as he spoke.
"I say, Bill--upon what prin--principle do--you--op--operate?" gaspedthe suddenly released gentleman. "I must know if it agrees with--withour sch--ool."
The man at the machine bowed graciously, and jauntily saluted his oldchum. Bill was flattered. To be thus interrogated by one whoseprofession was wisdom, was a distinct compliment. He straightenedhimself and lifted his chin.
"Helium,"--he said, in a loud, cheerful voice,--"that of which you arecomposed, I discover to be nothing more than a dephlogisticatedcondition of matter. Now this highly attenuated substance is (as youmay, but probably do not know) highly susceptible to electricalforces. I further discover that by virtue of electro-dynamics we areable to convert this highly refined substance into hydrogen, a highlyvolatile metal. This, under increased pressure, is finally raised tothe point of ignition. D'ye hear, my gay Gnani? For here's where I getin my fine work. Let me repeat,--this highly volatile hydrogen is, orwill presently be--raised to the point of ignition--Phlogiston isRestored and--_pish_--_you_ go."
"Horrible! horrible! but true, alas, too true,"--and the Mystic andhis Mate bowed their heads in unison.
"And, hear me still further, Mr. Psycho-Bunko-Hiero-Phanto," continuedMr. Vanderhook remorselessly. "I'd have you know that the curriculumof your musty old schools in Hindustan never counted on a tussle withphysical science. They go no further than the application of certainmetaphysical forces to nonresistant physical substance, or noncomposgray matter of certain fool people I know. They never equip theiralleged pupils to meet nor to resist an active and rational campaignon the lower planes. With all your tricks you Oriental fakirs aren'tin it with an Edison plant. You're not in it with the twentiethcentury scientist, when he has a real ax to grind,"--and by way ofillustration Bill increased the current and ground his teeth.
Moved by his enemy's science, rather than by his satire, AlonzoLeffingwell passed on his way--lamenting.
But he returned again, and hung suspended at his tormentor's pleasure.
The man of science continued: "You forget, my Alonzo the brave, thatphysical science hasn't been asleep the past five years. No, my boy,modern science has got a cinch on you--and the modern scientisthas wiped out your musty old magic. And the rude every-dayporter-house-Budweiser scientist has likewise been studying nature'sfiner forces. Now we don't levitate, to speak of, but we're makingpretty good time, just the same. Your scientific brethren out there inGingalee will discover in a couple of centuries that we've got thedrop on them--that the occult isn't occult, a little bit, and that thePlain Citizen of this great, western republic is after them."
To this the miserable Mystic made no reply. He saw that he wasdiscovered and lost at one and the same time. Nothing but the scarcityof water in his organism restrained the now hopeless gentleman fromtears.
He made one more attempt, one more appeal.
"Is there nothing, Oh, William K. Vanderhook,--is there nothing in ourpast friendship,--nothing of the past,--in memory that will melt orsoften you?"
"Anything in _memory_ to _soften_ me? Well,--I--should--say--NIT.Every revoluti
on of the second-hand on the dial plate of my memorydrives another spike into the lid of your--figurativelyspeaking--coffin."
"There was a time when I was soft. Oh, yes, I was _soft_! Five yearsago I was softer than putty, softer than a bread-and-milk poultice ora batch of dough. But my friend, I've been baked since. Hard baked. Ittook a lot of kneading and a mighty hot oven, but I got myself baked,hard-brown, and I've got a cast-iron crust on me,--and don't youforget it."
"Yes, I admit I _was_ soft, but that was long ago, before you made aprofession of bamboozling silly women."
"Memory--well I should say. D'ye think I've forgotten that inspiredold Manhattan Mystic? Not much. I've been studying that same oldmuddle myself. Yes, sir, and I've got the volume right over there inmy scientific library, in the section marked CRANKS,"--and BillVanderhook jerked his thumb disdainfully in the direction of thelibrary.
"And hear me further, Lonnie boy. It was just my reading of your ownHigh Joss, and it was out of his profound profundity that I dug yourcondemnation. And it is he, and not Bill Vanderhook, who has settledyour eternal--hash.
"Now you hear me a minute. I'm going to do a little quoting myself. Ispent days and nights wading through that illuminated slush to see ifI could find any excuse for you. But instead of that I picked out thebiggest spike in the lid.
"But, Gee, wasn't it a job? My nerve nearly brought on paresis. I didhave congestive chill, ticdouloureux, meningitis, lock-jaw andcurvature of the spine. But I read it just the same, and here's whatyour old misfit says. Listen, and when you strike that eternaloblivion take a day off and go back through your disintegrated,dissolved and scattered gray matter and see if _you_ can rememberanything like _this_,--
"'Mechanism does not escape this trope and rhapsody, being indeedtheir most conspicuous illustration, since its fundamental principleis that of leverage, whereby there is libration or oscillation, as ofa scale or a pendulum, or circular motion as of a wheel. In celestialmechanism the material fulcrum disappears, and there is the invisiblecentre of motion, of light and return, through tendencies which seemto balance each other, giving the motion the orbital form.'"
"And here's your old Manhattan Mummy come home to roost."
"Henrymillsalden, second chapter and fifth verse."
"Congregation sing."
Alonzo Leffingwell bowed his head. He pressed his hand to his solarplexus and then faintly did he murmur--"Then there is nothing thatwill melt or soften you--nothing?"
"Oh, ring off. D'ye take me for the ice man? Well, I'm not. I'mpig-iron, pipe-clay and steel filings; and what's worse, the more I_remember_ the madder I _get_."
"And then--and then--there is nothing that I can do--or can say?--"
"Once--and--for--all,--NOPE, my gay Gnani of Gingalee, for the lasttime, you're up against it."
* * * * *
And there was silence in the cellar for the space of about eightminutes.
* * * * *
And then,--"It is not, O William, simply for myself I plead. I amthinking also of you, and of the Karmic consequences of this Act. Hadyou,--had you--been illuminated--"
"I'd a hoisted you out of my house a year ago,"--interrupted Billfiercely. "But I wasn't illuminated. My aura wasn't anything but fuzz.Wasn't lit up. I was in the gloaming. But I'm not there now. I'm outof the woods. And I've got a pink halo of forty-four horse power. D'yehear me?" and the materialist grinned away his scowl. Waving his handoutward in the glaring atmosphere, he continued,--"I'm getting there.If this ain't illumination I don't know light when I see it. Oh, yes,I'm a small incandescent myself. But see here"--and Bill suddenlyclosed the conversation and his jaws with a snap.
"What are you up to anyway? You're trying to josh me out of thisexperiment. I don't mean to let you buzz the vitality out of thisdynamo. You're slick enough to weaken the coils of any old machine ifyou're not watched. Anyway, we've had enough monkeying, and I've gotother fish to fry. The Board meets at eight and I'm punctual."
Bill Vanderhook now consulted his watch. "Holy Mother of Mud!"--heshouted. "It's seven o'clock, and no dinner, and this is Saturdaynight, and the barber shops crowded. Now, see here"--to the silent,despairing culprits,--"I don't want any more back talk. I'm going towind up this business instanter. For this whole mess has to be out ofthe way in just fif--teen--minutes."
"No--no more talk. You just get ready for your last sprint. This farceis played out. The last act is over. The curtain's rung down.Alonzo Leffingwell, the wise man of Kankakee flats is no more.Bring on the--flowers--your 'Gates Ajar' and the other pin-wheels.The pallbearers are without. The baked meats are on thesideboard--mourners in line, and hark you to the funeral march,--
"Fare-well for-ev-er to old Kan-ka-kee, Fare-well, my Lonnie-Bird, don't wait for me."
As the hand of the avenger had touched the lever he had burst forthinto impassioned song.
And there was more truth than either poetry or music in hisimprovisation.
For the cruel energy of this modern executioner was beginning to tellupon its ethereal victim. Never in his varied career had that polishedand elegant gentleman been so completely "in the whirl."
There were now subtle but certain changes and transformations takingplace in his attenuated substance. The gay, gallant and fascinatingsojourner from the Orient was slowly but surely undergoing somecharacter of transmutation.
"Now, once for all, and finally,"--resumed Bill, bending forward toreadjust some part of the machinery,--"Once again and for the lasttime I say to you, that you must make up your mind,--no, rather youreverlasting substance--to your fearful and final experiences as anindividual, as an astral man, as a NEE--go. You have proclaimed thatall is spirit. I contend that--ALL--IS--MATTER, and HERE SHE GOES."
But she didn't go.
As these last fierce words of Bill Vanderhook cut the air like whipstrokes, the unhappy prisoner trembled with fear. With one mightyeffort of will he gathered his forces into one last effort to breakhis bonds.
But in vain. He writhed, struggled, twisted and swayed in the unequalcontest. But he was bound, as securely bound by the invisible chainof electricity, as was ever the manacled criminal in the strong,barred dungeon. He was rooted to the rim of that fearful aura of hismechanical captor.
Lifting his eyes and his hands toward the ceiling, the despairingcaptive raised all that remained of his voice in one last wild, weirdcry of supplication:--
"Master, Master, why hast thou forsaken me?"
And what had stayed the avenger's hand as it reached again to pressthe fatal button? Was it that wild cry, or the wild _words_ thatstayed the bloodless executioner in that torture chamber?
Or,--was it the sudden infusion of another element, of another force,of another individuality superior to the little learning and thelittle arts of both the modern mystic and the modern scientist?
For, at that instant, in a flash of time, occurred a curious thing.
The echoes of the Mystic's wail were still resounding among the jarsand jugs when Mr. Vanderhook might have been seen to stagger, torelax, to waver as he stood, to reach blindly for a chair, and then,to crumple up and drop gently upon the floor, to close his eyes, tosleep.
And Imogene, who sat upon the cask of copper wire, whose interest hadnot flagged for an instant, now changed expression suddenly. Sheyawned, leaned backward to the wall for support, dropped her prettyhead to one side, closed her tearful eyes, and she, too, slept.