Rhamda Geos, instead of showing the concern and uneasiness that most
men would show in the presence of an avowed ghost, evinced nothing but
a deep and reverent happiness. He took Watson's hand almost shyly. And
while his manner was not effusive, it had the warmth that comes from the
heart of a scholar.
“As a Rhamda,” he declared, “I must commend myself for being the first
to speak to you. And I must congratulate you, my dear sir, on having
fallen, not into the hands of Bar Senestro, but into those of my own
kind. It is a proof of the prophecy, and a vindication of the wisdom of
the Ten Thousand.
“I bid you welcome to the Thomahlia, and I offer you my services, as
guide and sponsor.”
Chick did not reply at once. The chance he had taken was one of those
rare decisions that come to genius; the whole balance of his fate might
swing upon his sudden impulse. Not that he had any compunction; but he
felt that it tied him down. It restricted him. Certainly almost any role
would be easier than that of a spirit.
He didn't feel like a ghost. He wondered just how a ghost would act,
anyhow. What was more, he could not understand such a queer assumption
on the Rhamda's part. Why had he seemed to WANT Chick a ghost? Watson
was natural, human, embodied, just like the Rhamda. This was scarcely
his idea of a phantom's life. Most certainly, the two of them were men,
nothing else; if one was a wraith, so was the other. But--how to account
for it?
Again he thought of Rhamda Avec. The words of Geos, “The Fact and the
Substance,” had been exactly synonymous with what had been said of Avec
by Dr. Holcomb, “The proof of the occult.”
Was it indeed possible that these two great ones, from opposite poles,
had actually torn away the veil of the shadow? And was this the place
where he, Watson, must pose as a spirit, if he were to be accepted as
genuine?
The thought was a shock. He must play the same part here that the Rhamda
had played on the other side of the Spot; but he would have to do
it without the guiding wisdom of Avec. Besides, there was something
sinister in the unknown force that had engulfed so strong a mind as the
professor's; for while Watson's fate had been of his own seeking, that
of the doctor smacked too much of treachery.
He turned to the Rhamda Geos with a new question:
“This Rhamda Avec--was he a man like yourself?”
The other brightened again, and asked in return:
“Then you have seen him!”
“I--I do not know,” answered Watson, caught off his guard. “But the name
is familiar. I don't remember well. My mind is vague and confused. I
recall a world, a wonderful world it was from which I came, and a great
many people. But I can't place myself; I hardly--let me see--”
The other nodded sympathetic approval.
“I understand. Don't exert yourself. It is hardly to be expected that
one forced out of the occult could come among us with his faculties
unimpaired. We have had many communications with your world, and have
always been frustrated by this one gulf which may not be crossed. When
real thought gets across the border, it is often indefinite,
sometimes mere drivel. Such answers as come from the void are usually
disappointing, no matter how expert our mediums may be in communicating
with the dead.”
“The dead! Did you say--the dead?”
“Certainly; the dead. Are you not of the dead?”
Watson shook his head emphatically.
“Absolutely not! Not where I came from. We are all very much alive!”
The other watched him curiously, his great eyes glowing with enthusiasm;
the enthusiasm of the born seeker of the truth.
“You don't mean,” he asked, “that you have the same passions that we
have here in life?”
“I mean,” said Watson, “that we hate, love, swear; we are good and we
are evil; and we play games and go fishing.”
Geos rubbed his hands in a dignified sort of glee. What had been said
coincided, apparently, with another of his pet theories.
“It is splendid,” he exulted, “splendid! And just in line with my
thesis. You shall tell it before the Council of the Rhamdas. It will be
the greatest day since the speaking of the Jarados!”
Watson wondered just who this Jarados might be; but for the moment he
went back to the previous question.
“This Rhamda Avec: you were about to tell me about him. Let me have as
much as I can understand, sir.”
“Ah, yes! The great Rhamda Avec. Perhaps you may recall him when your
mind clears a little more. My dear sir, he is, or was, the chief of the
Rhamdas of all the Thomahlia.”
“What is the 'Thomahlia'?”
“The Thomahlia! Why, it is called the world; our name for the world.
It comprises, physically, land, water and air; politically, it embraces
D'Hartia, Kospia and a few minor nations.”
“Who are the Rhamdas?”
“They are the heads of--of the Thomahlia; not the nominal nor
political nor religious heads--they are neither judicial, executive nor
legislative; but the real heads, still above. They might be called the
supreme college of wisdom, of science and of research. Also, they are
the keepers of the bell and its temple, and the interpreters of the
Prophecy of the Jarados.”
“I see. You are a sort of priesthood.”
“No. The priesthood is below us. The priests take what orders we choose
to give, and are purely--”
“Superstitious?”
The Rhamda's eyes snapped, just a trifle.
“Not at all, my dear sir! They are good, sincere men. Only, not being
intellectually adept enough to be admitted to the real secrets, the real
knowledge, they give to all things a provisional explanation based upon
a settled policy. Not being Rhamdas, they are simply not aware that
everything has an exact and absolute explanation.”
“In other words,” put in Watson, “they are scientists; they have not
lifted themselves up to the plane of inquisitive doubt.”
Still the Rhamda shook his head.
“Not quite that, either, my dear sir. Those below us are not ignorant;
they are merely nearer to the level of the masses than we are. In fact,
they are the people's rulers; these priests and other similar classes.
But we, the Rhamdas, are the rulers of the rulers. We differ from them
in that we have no material ends to subserve. Being at the top, with no
motive save justice and advancement, our judgments are never questioned,
and for the same reason, seldom passed.
“But we are far above the plane of doubt that you speak of; we passed
out of it long ago. That is the first stage of true science; afterwards
comes the higher levels where all things have a reason; ethics,
inspiration, thought, emotion--”
“And--the judgment of the Jarados?”
Watson could not have told why he said it. It was impulse, and the
impromptu suggestion of a half-thought. But the effect of his words upon
the Rhamda and the nurse told him that, inadvertently, he had struck a
keynote. Both started, especially the woman. Watson took note of this
in particular, because of the ingrained acceptance of the feminine in
matter of belief.
“What do you know?” was her eager interruption. “You have seen the
Jarados?”
As for the Rhamda, he looked at Watson with shrewd, calculating eyes.
But they were still filled with wonder.
“Can you tell us?” he asked. “Try and think!”
Chick knew that he had gained a point. He had been dealt a trump
card; but he was too clever to play it at once. He was on his own
responsibility and was carrying a load that required the finest
equilibrium.
“I really do not know,” he said. “I--I must have time to think. Coming
across the border that way you must give me time. You were telling me
about the Rhamdas in general; now tell me about Avec in particular.”
Geos nodded as though he could understand the fog that beclouded
Watson's mind.
“The Rhamda Avec is, or was, the wisest of them all; the head and the
chief, and by far the most able. Few beside his own fellows knew it,
however; another than he was the nominal head, and officiated for
him whenever necessary. Avec had little social intercourse; he was a
prodigious student.
“We are a body of learned men, you understand, and we stand at the
peak of all that has been discovered through hundreds upon hundreds
of centuries, so that at the present day we are the culmination of the
combined effort and thought of man since the beginning of time. Each
generation of Rhamdas must be greater than the one preceding. When I die
and pass on to your world I must leave something new and worth-while
to my successor; some thought, wisdom, or deed that may be of use to
mankind. I cannot be a Rhamda else. We are a set of supreme priests, who
serve man at the shrine of intelligence, not of dogma.
“Of course, we are not to be judged too highly. All research, when it
steps forward must go haltingly; there are many paths into the unknown
that look like the real one. Hence, we have among us various schools of
thought, and each following a different trail.
“I myself am a spiritist. I believe that we can, and often have,
communicated with your world at various times. There are others who do
not grant it; there are Rhamdas who are inclined to lean more to the
materialist's side of things, who rely entirely, when it comes to
questions of this kind, upon their faith in the teachings of the
Jarados. There are some, too, who believe in the value of speculation,
and who contend that only through contemplation can man lift himself to
the full fruits of realisation. At the head of us all--the Rhamda Avec!”
“What was his belief?”
“Let us say he believed ALL. He was eclectic. He held that we were
all of us a bit right, and each of us a whole lot wrong. It was his
contention, however, that there was not one thing that could not be
proven; that the secret of life, while undoubtedly a secret in every
sense of the word, is still very concrete, it could be proven!”
Watson nodded. He remembered hearing another man make just such a
statement--Dr. Holcomb.
“For years he worked in private,” went on Geos. “We never knew just what
he was doing; until, one day, he called us together and delivered his
lecture.”
“His lecture?”
“Rather, his prophecy. For it was all that. Not that he spoke at great
length; it was but a talk. He announced that he believed the time had
come to prove the occult. That it could be done, and done only through
concrete, material means; and that whatever existed, certainly could be
demonstrated. He was going to pull aside the curtain that had hitherto
cut off the shadow.
“'I am going to prove the occult,' he said. 'In three days I shall
return with the fact and the substance. And then I propose to deliver my
greatest lecture, my final thesis, in which my whole life shall come
to a focus. I shall bring the proof for your eyes and ears, for your
fingers to explore and be satisfied. You shall behold the living truth.”
“'And the subject of my lecture--the subject of my lecture will be The
Spot of Life.'”