CHAPTER XII
Gwent was silent. With methodical care he flicked off the burnt end ofhis cigar and watched it where it fell, as though it were somethingrare and curious. He wanted a few minutes to think. He gave a quickupward glance at the tall athletic figure above him, with itsmagnificent head and flashing eyes,--and the words "I'll be master ofthe world" gave him an unpleasant thrill. One man on the planet withpower to destroy nations seemed quite a fantastic idea--yet sciencemade it actually possible! He bethought himself of a book he had latelyread concerning radio-activity, in which he had been struck by thefollowing passage--"Radio-activity is an explosion of great violence;the energy exerted is millions of times more powerful than the highestexplosive substance yet made in our laboratories; one bomb loaded withsuch energy would be equal to millions of bombs of the same size andenergy as used in the trenches. One's mind stands aghast at the thoughtof what could be possible if such power were used for destructivepurposes; a single aeroplane could carry sufficient to annihilate awhole army, or lay the biggest city in ruins with the death of all itsinhabitants." The writer of the book in question had stated that, sofar, no means had been found of conserving and concentrating thistremendous force for such uses,--but Gwent, looking at Roger Seaton,said within himself--"He's got it!" And this impression, urging itselfstrongly in on his brain, was sufficiently startling to give him atouch of what is called "nerves."
After a considerably long pause he said, slowly--"Well, 'master of theworld' is a pretty tall order! Now, look here, Seaton--you're a plain,straight man, and so am I, as much as my business will let me. What areyou after, anyway? What is your aim and end? You say you don't wantmoney--yet money is the chief goal of all men's ambition. You don'tcare for fame, though you could have it for the lifting of a finger,and I suppose you don't want love--"
Seaton laughed heartily, pushing back with a ruffling hand the thickhair from his broad open brow.
"All three propositions are nil to me"--he said--"I suppose it isbecause I can have them for the asking! And what satisfaction is therein any one of them? A man only needs one dinner a day, a place to sleepin and ordinary clothes to wear--very little money is required for theactual necessaries of life--enough can be earned by any day-labourer.As for fame--whosoever reads the life of even one 'famous' man willnever be such a fool as to wish for the capricious plaudits of afool-public. And love!--love does not exist--not what _I_ call love!"
"Oh! May I have your definition?"
"Why yes!--of course you may! Love, to my thinking, means completeharmony between two souls--like two notes that make a perfect chord.The man must feel that he can thoroughly trust and reverence thewoman,--the woman must feel the same towards the man. And the sense of'reverence' is perhaps the best and most binding quality. But nowadayswhat woman will you find worth reverence?--what man so free from drinkand debauchery as to command it? The human beings of our day are oftenless respectable than the beasts! I can imagine love,--what it mightbe--what it should be--but till we have a very different and morespiritualised world, the thing is impossible."
Again, Gwent was silent for some minutes. Then he said--
"Apparently the spirit of destructiveness is strong in you. As 'masterof the world'--to quote your own words, I presume that in the event ofa nation or nations deciding on war, you would give them a time-limitto consider and hold conference, with their allies--and then--if theywere resolved to begin hostilities--"
"Then I could--and WOULD--wipe them off the face of the earth intwenty-four hours!" said Seaton, calmly--"From nations they shouldbecome mere dust-heaps! War makes its own dust-heaps, but withinfinitely more cost and trouble--the way of exit I offer would becheap in comparison!"
Gwent smiled a grim smile.
"Well, I come back to my former question"--he said--"Suppose theoccasion arose, and you did all this, what pleasure to yourself do youforesee?"
"The pleasure of clearing the poor old earth of some of itspestilential microbes!"--answered Seaton, "Something of the samethankful satisfaction Sir Ronald Ross must have experienced when hediscovered the mosquito-breeders of yellow fever and malaria, andcaused them to be stamped out. The men who organise national disputesare a sort of mosquito, infecting their fellow-creatures with pervertedmentality and disease,--they should be exterminated."
"Why not begin with the newspaper offices?" suggested Gwent--"Thepurlieus of cheap journalism are the breeding-places of the humanmalaria-mosquito."
"True! And it wouldn't be a bad idea to stamp them out," here Seatonthrew back his head with the challenging gesture which wascharacteristic of his temperament--"But what is called 'the liberty ofthe press'(it should be called 'the license of the press') is more ofan octopus than a mosquito. Cut off one tentacle, it grows another.It's entirely octopus in character, too,--it only lives to fill itsstomach."
"Oh, come, come!" and Gwent's little steely eyes sparkled--"It's the'safe-guard of nations' don't you know?--it stands for honest freespeech, truth, patriotism, justice--"
"Good God!" burst out Seaton, impatiently--"When it does, then the 'newworld' about which men talk so much may get a beginning! 'Honest freespeech--truth!' Why, modern journalism is one GREAT LIE advertised onhoardings from one end of the world to the other!"
"I agree!" said Gwent--"And there you have the root and cause of war!No need to exterminate nations with your destructive stuff,--you shouldget at the microbes who undermine the nations first. When you can doTHAT, you will destroy the guilty and spare the innocent,--whereas yourplan of withering a nation into a dust-heap involves the innocent alongwith the guilty."
"War does that,"--said Seaton, curtly.
"It does. And your aim is to do away with all chance or possibility ofwar for ever. Good! But you need to attack the actual root of the evil."
Seaton's brow clouded into a frown.
"You're a careful man, Gwent,"--he said--"And, in the main, you areright. I know as well as you do that the license of the press is thedevil's finger in the caldron of affairs, stirring up strife betweennations that would probably be excellent friends and allies, if it werenot for this 'licensed' mischief. But so long as the mob read the lies,so long will the liars flourish. And my argument is that if any twopeoples are so brainless as to be led into war by their press, they arenot fit to live--no more fit than the mosquitoes that once made Panamaa graveyard."
Gwent smoked leisurely, regarding his companion with unfeigned interest.
"Apparently you haven't much respect for life?" he said.
"Not when it is diseased life--not when it is pervertedlife;"--returned Seaton--"Then it is mere deformity and encumbrance.For life itself in all its plenitude, health and beauty I have thedeepest, most passionate respect. It is the outward ray or reflex ofthe image of God--"
"Stop there!" interrupted Gwent--"You believe in God?"
"I do,--most utterly! That is to say I believe in an all-pervading Mindoriginating and commanding the plan of the Universe. We talk of 'ions'and 'electrons'--but we are driven to confess that a SupremeIntelligence has the creation of electrons, and directs them as to theformation of all existing things. To that Mind--to that Intelligence--Isubmit my soul! And I do NOT believe that this Supreme Mind desiresevil or sorrow,--we create disaster ourselves, and it is ourselves thatmust destroy it, We are given free-will--if we 'will' to createdisease, we must equally 'will' to exterminate it by every means in ourpower."
"I think I follow you"--said Gwent, slowly--"But now, as regards thisSupreme Intelligence, I suppose you will admit that the plan ofcreation is a dual sort of scheme--that is to say 'male and femalecreated He them'?"
"Why, of course!" and Seaton smiled--"The question is superfluous!"
"I asked it," went on Gwent--"because you seem to eliminate the femaleelement from your life altogether. Therefore, so I take it, you are notat your full strength, either as a scientist or philosopher. You are akind of eagle, trying to fly high on one wing. You'll need the other!There, don't look at me in that savage
way! I'm merely making my owncomments on your position,--you needn't mind them. I want to get out ofthe tangle-up of things you have suggested. You fancy it would be easyto get the United States Government to purchase your discovery andpledge themselves to use it on occasion for the complete wiping out ofa nation,--any nation--that decided to go to war,--and, failing theiracceptance, or the acceptance of any government on these lines, youpurpose doing the deed yourself. Well!--I can tell you straight awayit's no use my trying to negotiate such a business, The inhumanity ofit is to palpable."
"What of the inhumanity of war?" asked Seaton.
"That PAYS!" replied Gwent, with emphasis--"You don't, or won't, seemto recognise that blistering fact! The inhumanity of war pays everybodyconcerned in it except the fellows who fight to order. They are the'raw material.' They get used up. YOUR business WOULDN'T 'pay.' Andwhat won't 'pay' is no good to anybody in this present sort of world."
Seaton, still standing erect, bent his eyes on the lean hard featuresof his companion with eloquent scorn.
"So! Everything must be measured and tested by money!" he said--"Andyet you senators talk of reform!--of a 'new' world!--of a higher codeof conduct between man and man--"
"Yes, we talk"--interrupted Gwent--"But we don't mean what we say!--weshould never think of meaning it!"
"'Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!'" quoted Seaton with passionateemphasis.
"Just so! The Lord Christ said it two thousand years ago, and it's trueto-day! We haven't improved!"
With an impatient movement, Seaton strode to the door of his hut andlooked out at the wide sky,--then turned back again. Gwent watched himcritically.
"After all," he said, "It isn't as if you wanted anything of anybody.Money is no object of yours. If it were I should advise your sellingyour discovery to Morgana Royal,--she'd buy it--and, I tell youwhat!--SHE'D USE IT!"
"Thanks!" and Seaton nodded curtly--"I can use it myself!"
"True!" And Gwent looked interestedly at his dwindling Havana--"Youcan!" There followed a pause during which Gwent thought of the strangepredicament in which the world might find itself, under the scientificrule of one man who had it in his power to create a terrificcatastrophe without even "showing his hand." "Anyway, Seaton, yousurely want to make something out of life for yourself, don't you?"
"What IS there to be made out of it?" he asked.
"Well!-happiness--the physical pleasure of living--"
"I AM happy"--declared Seaton--"and I entirely appreciate the physicalpleasure of living. But I should be happier and better pleased withlife if I could rid the earth of some of its mischief, disease andsorrow--"
"How about leaving that to the Supreme Intelligence?" interposed Gwent.
"That's just it! The Supreme Intelligence led me to the discovery Ihave made--and I feel that it has been given into my hands for apurpose. Gwent, I am positive that this same Supreme Intelligenceexpects his creature, Man, to help Him in the evolvement and work ofthe Universe! It is the only reasonable cause for Man's existence. Wemust help, not hinder, the scheme of which we are a part. And whereverhindrance comes in we are bound to remove and destroy it!"
The last ash of Gwent's cigar fell to the floor, and Gwent himself rosefrom his chair.
"Well, I suppose we've had our talk out"--he said; "I came hereprepared to offer you a considerable sum for your discovery--but Ican't go so far as a Government pledge. So I must leave you to it. Youknow"--here he hesitated--"you know a good many people would consideryou mad--"
Seaton laughed.
"Oh, that goes without saying! Did you ever hear of any scientistpossessing a secret drawn from the soul of nature that was not called'mad' at once by his compeers and the public? I can stand THATaccusation! Pray Heaven I never get as mad as a Wall Street gambler!"
"You will, if you gamble with the lives of nations!" said Gwent.
"Let the nations beware how they gamble with their own lives!" retortedSeaton--"You say war is a method of money-making--let them take heedhow they touch money coined in human blood! I--one man only,--but aninstrument of the Supreme Intelligence,--I say and swear there shall beno more wars!"
As he uttered these words there was something almost supernatural inthe expression of his face--his attitude, proudly erect, offered a kindof defiance to the world,--and involuntarily Gwent, looking at him,thought of the verse in the Third Psalm--
"I laid me down and slept; I awaked for the Lord sustained me. I willnot be afraid of ten thousands of the people that have set themselvesagainst me round about."
"No--he would not be afraid!" Gwent mused--"He is a man for whom thereis no such thing as fear! But--if it knew--the world might be afraid ofHIM!"
Aloud he said--"Well, you may put an end to war, but you will never putan end to men's hatred and envy of one another, and if they can't 'letthe steam off' in fighting, they'll find some other way which may beworse. If you come to consider it, all nature is at war withitself,--it's a perpetual struggle to live, and it's evident that thestruggle was intended and ordained as universal law. Life would bepretty dull without effort--and effort means war."
"War against what?--against whom?" asked Seaton.
"Against whatever or whoever opposes the effort," replied Gwent,promptly--"There must be opposition, otherwise effort would beunnecessary. My good fellow, you've got an idea that you can alter thefixed plan of things, but you can't. The cleverest of us are only likegoldfish in a glass bowl--they see the light through, but they cannotget to it. The old ship of the world will sail on its appointed way toits destined port,--and the happiest creatures are those who arecontent to sail with it in the faith that God is at the helm!" He brokeoff, smiling at his own sudden eloquence, then added--"By-the-by, whereis your laboratory?"
"Haven't got one!" replied Seaton, briefly.
"What! Haven't got one! Why, how do you make your stuff?"
Seaton laughed.
"You think I'm going to tell you? Mr. Senator Gwent, you take me for agreater fool than I am! My 'stuff' needs neither fire norcrucible,--the formula was fairly complete before I left Washington,but I wanted quiet and solitude to finish what I had begun. It isfinished now. That's why I sent for you to make the proposition whichyou say you cannot carry through."
"Finished, is it?" queried Gwent, abstractedly--"And you have ithere?--in a finished state?"
Seaton nodded affirmatively.
"Then I suppose"--said Gwent with a nervous laugh--"you could 'finish'ME, if it suited your humour?"
"I could, certainly!" and Seaton gave him quite an encouragingsmile--"I could reduce Mr. Senator Gwent into a small pinch of greydust in about forty seconds, without pain! You wouldn't feel it Iassure you! It would be too swift for feeling."
"Thanks! Much obliged!" said Gwent--"I won't trouble you this morning!I rather enjoy being alive."
"So do I!" declared Seaton, still smiling--"I only state what I COULDdo."
Gwent stood at the door of the hut and surveyed the scenery.
"You've a fine, wild view here"--he said--"I think I shall stay at thePlaza a day or two before returning to Washington. There's a veryattractive girl there."
"Oh, you mean Manella"--said Seaton, carelessly; "Yes, she's quite abeauty. She's the maid, waitress or 'help' of some sort at the hotel."
"She's a good 'draw' for male visitors"--said Gwent--"Many a man I knowwould pay a hundred dollars a day to have her wait upon him!"
"Would YOU?" asked Seaton, amused.
"Well!--perhaps not a hundred dollars a day, but pretty near it! Hereyes are the finest I've ever seen."
Seaton made no comment.
"You'll come and dine with me to-night, won't you?" went on Gwent--"Youcan spare me an hour or two of your company?"
"No, thanks"--Seaton replied--"Don't think me a churlish brute--but Idon't like hotels or the people who frequent them. Besides--we've doneour business."
"Unfortunately there was no business doing!" said Gwent--"Sorry Icouldn't take it on."
"D
on't be sorry! I'll take it on myself when the moment comes. I wouldhave preferred the fiat of a great government to that of oneunauthorised man--but if there's no help for it then the one man mustact."
Gwent looked at him with a grave intentness which he meant to beimpressive.
"Seaton, these new scientific discoveries are dangerous tools!" hesaid--"If they are not handled carefully they may work more mischiefthan we dream of. Be on your guard! Why, we might break up the veryplanet we live on, some day!"
"Very possible!" answered Seaton, lightly--"But it wouldn't be missed!Come,--I'll walk with you half way down the hill."
He threw on a broad palmetto hat as a shield against the blazing sun,for it was now the full heat of the afternoon, while Gwent solemnlyunfurled a white canvas umbrella which, folded, served him on occasionas a walking-stick. A greater contrast could hardly be imagined thanthat afforded by the two men,--the conventionally clothed,stiff-jointed Washington senator, and the fine, easy supple figure ofhis roughly garbed companion; and Manella, watching them descend thehill from a coign of vantage in the Plaza gardens, criticised theirappearance in her own special way.
"Poof!" she said to herself, snapping her fingers in air--"He is sougly!--that one man--so dry and yellow and old! But the other--he is agod!"
And she snapped her fingers again,--then kissed them towards the objectof her adoration,--an object as unconscious and indifferent as anysenseless idol ever worshipped by blind devotees.