“Let me get it clear, Hobart. You say that we catch only certain
vibrations.”
“That's it. Our eyes are instruments, nothing else. We can see light,
but we cannot hear it. We hear sound, but we cannot see it. Of course
they are not exactly parallel. But it serves the point. Let's go a
bit further. The eye picks up certain vibrations. Light is nothing but
energy vibrating at a tremendous speed. It has to be just so high for
the eye to pick it up. A great deal we do not get. For instance, we can
only catch one-twelfth of the solar spectrum. Until recently we have
believed only what we could see. Science has pulled us out of the rut.
It may pull us through the Blind Spot.”
“And beyond.”
Hobart held up his hands.
“It is almost too much to believe. We have made a discovery. We must
watch our step. We must not lose. The work of Dr. Holcomb shall not go
for nothing.”
“And the ring?”
He consulted his watch.
“We have only a short time left. We must map our action. We have three
things to work on--the ring, the house, Bertha Holcomb. It's all up to
you, Harry. Find out all that is possible; but go slow. Trace down
that ring; find out everything that you can. Go and see Bertha Holcomb.
Perhaps she can give you some data. Watson said no; but perhaps you may
uncover it. Take the ring to a lapidary; but don't let him cut it. Last
of all, and most important, buy the house of the Blind Spot. Draw on me.
Let me pay half, anyway.”
“I shall move into it,” I answered.
He hesitated a bit.
“I am afraid of that,” he answered. “Well, if you wish. Only be careful.
Remember I shall return just as soon as I can get loose. If you feel
yourself slipping or anything happens, send me a cable.”
The hours passed all too quickly. When day came we had our breakfast
and hurried down to the pier. It was hard to have him go. His last words
were like Hobart Fenton. He repeated the warning.
“Watch your step, Harry; watch your step. Take things easy; be cautious.
Get the house. Trace down the ring. Be sure of yourself. Keep me
informed. If you need me, cable. I'll come if I have to swim.”
His last words; and not a year ago. It seems now like a lifetime. As I
stood upon the pier and watched the ship slipping into the water, I felt
it coming upon me. It had grown steadily, a gloom and oppression not to
be thwarted; it is silent and subtle and past defining--like shadow. The
grey, heavy heave of the water; the great hull of the steamer backing
into the bay; the gloom of the fog bank. A few uncertain lines, the
shrill of the siren, the mist settling; I was alone. It was isolation.
I had been warned by Watson. But I had not guessed. At the moment
I sensed it. It was the beginning. Out of my heart I could feel
it--solitude.
In the great and populous city I was to be alone, in all its teeming
life I was to be a stranger. It has been almost a year--a year! It has
been a lifetime. A breaking down of life!
I have waited and fought and sought to conquer. One cannot fight against
shadow. It is merciless and inexorable. There are secrets that may be
locked forever. It was my duty, my pledge to Watson, what I owed to the
professor. I have hung on grimly; what the end will be I do not know. I
have cabled for Fenton.