There was, until a year ago, a little and very grimy-looking shop near
Seven Dials, over which, in weatherworn yellow lettering, the name
of ‘C. Cave, Naturalist and Dealer in Antiquities,’ was inscribed.
The contents of its window were curiously variegated. They comprised
some elephant tusks and an imperfect set of chessmen, beads and
weapons, a box of eyes, two skulls of tigers and one human, several
moth-eaten stuffed monkeys (one holding a lamp), an old-fashioned
cabinet, a fly-blown ostrich egg or so, some fishing-tackle, and an
extraordinarily dirty, empty glass fish-tank. There was also, at the
moment the story begins, a mass of crystal, worked into the shape of an
egg and brilliantly polished. And at that two people who stood outside
the window were looking, one of them a tall, thin clergyman, the other
a black-bearded young man of dusky complexion and unobtrusive costume.
The dusky young man spoke with eager gesticulation, and seemed anxious
for his companion to purchase the article.
While they were there, Mr Cave came into his shop, his beard still
wagging with the bread and butter of his tea. When he saw these men and
the object of their regard, his countenance fell. He glanced guiltily
over his shoulder, and softly shut the door. He was a little old man,
with pale face and peculiar watery blue eyes; his hair was a dirty
gray, and he wore a shabby blue frock-coat, an ancient silk hat, and
carpet slippers very much down at heel. He remained watching the two
men as they talked. The clergyman went deep into his trouser pocket,
examined a handful of money, and showed his teeth in an agreeable
smile. Mr Cave seemed still more depressed when they came into the shop.
The clergyman, without any ceremony, asked the price of the crystal
egg. Mr Cave glanced nervously towards the door leading into the
parlour, and said five pounds. The clergyman protested that the price
was high, to his companion as well as to Mr Cave--it was, indeed,
very much more than Mr Cave had intended to ask when he had stocked
the article--and an attempt at bargaining ensued. Mr Cave stepped
to the shop door, and held it open. ‘Five pounds is my price,’ he
said, as though he wished to save himself the trouble of unprofitable
discussion. As he did so, the upper portion of a woman’s face appeared
above the blind in the glass upper panel of the door leading into the
parlour, and stared curiously at the two customers. ‘Five pounds is my
price,’ said Mr Cave, with a quiver in his voice.
The swarthy young man had so far remained a spectator, watching Cave
keenly. Now he spoke. ‘Give him five pounds,’ he said. The clergyman
glanced at him to see if he were in earnest, and when he looked at
Mr Cave again, he saw that the latter’s face was white. ‘It’s a lot
of money,’ said the clergyman, and, diving into his pocket, began
counting his resources. He had little more than thirty shillings, and
he appealed to his companion, with whom he seemed to be on terms of
considerable intimacy. This gave Mr Cave an opportunity of collecting
his thoughts, and he began to explain in an agitated manner that the
crystal was not, as a matter of fact, entirely free for sale. His
two customers were naturally surprised at this, and inquired why he
had not thought of that before he began to bargain. Mr Cave became
confused, but he stuck to his story, that the crystal was not in the
market that afternoon, that a probable purchaser of it had already
appeared. The two, treating this as an attempt to raise the price still
further, made as if they would leave the shop. But at this point the
parlour door opened, and the owner of the dark fringe and the little
eyes appeared.
She was a coarse-featured, corpulent woman, younger and very much
larger than Mr Cave; she walked heavily, and her face was flushed.
‘That crystal _is_ for sale,’ she said. ‘And five pounds is a good
enough price for it. I can’t think what you’re about, Cave, not to take
the gentleman’s offer!’
Mr Cave, greatly perturbed by the irruption, looked angrily at her over
the rims of his spectacles, and, without excessive assurance, asserted
his right to manage his business in his own way. An altercation began.
The two customers watched the scene with interest and some amusement,
occasionally assisting Mrs Cave with suggestions. Mr Cave, hard driven,
persisted in a confused and impossible story of an inquiry for the
crystal that morning, and his agitation became painful. But he stuck to
his point with extraordinary persistence. It was the young Oriental who
ended this curious controversy. He proposed that they should call again
in the course of two days--so as to give the alleged inquirer a fair
chance. ‘And then we must insist,’ said the clergyman. ‘Five pounds.’
Mrs Cave took it on herself to apologise for her husband, explaining
that he was sometimes ‘a little odd,’ and as the two customers left,
the couple prepared for a free discussion of the incident in all its
bearings.
Mrs Cave talked to her husband with singular directness. The poor
little man, quivering with emotion, muddled himself between his
stories, maintaining on the one hand that he had another customer in
view, and on the other asserting that the crystal was honestly worth
ten guineas. ‘Why did you ask five pounds?’ said his wife. ‘_Do_ let me
manage my business my own way!’ said Mr Cave.
Mr Cave had living with him a stepdaughter and a stepson, and at
supper that night the transaction was re-discussed. None of them had a
high opinion of Mr Cave’s business methods, and this action seemed a
culminating folly.
‘It’s my opinion he’s refused that crystal before,’ said the stepson, a
loose-limbed lout of eighteen.
‘But _Five Pounds_!’ said the stepdaughter, an argumentative young
woman of six-and-twenty.
Mr Cave’s answers were wretched; he could only mumble weak assertions
that he knew his own business best. They drove him from his half-eaten
supper into the shop, to close it for the night, his ears aflame and
tears of vexation behind his spectacles. Why had he left the crystal in
the window so long? The folly of it! That was the trouble closest in
his mind. For a time he could see no way of evading sale.
After supper his stepdaughter and stepson smartened themselves up and
went out and his wife retired upstairs to reflect upon the business
aspects of the crystal, over a little sugar and lemon and so forth in
hot water. Mr Cave went into the shop, and stayed there until late,
ostensibly to make ornamental rockeries for gold-fish cases, but really
for a private purpose that will be better explained later. The next
day Mrs Cave found that the crystal had been removed from the window,
and was lying behind some second-hand books on angling. She replaced
it in a conspicuous position. But she did not argue further about it,
as a nervous headache disinclined her from debate. Mr Cave was always
disinclined. The day passed disagreeably. Mr Cave was, if anything,
more absent-minded than usual, and uncommonly irritable withal. In the
afternoon, when his wife was taking her customary sleep, he removed the
crystal from the window again.
The next day Mr Cave had to deliver a consignment of dog-fish at one
of the hospital schools, where they were needed for dissection. In his
absence Mrs Cave’s mind reverted to the topic of the crystal, and the
methods of expenditure suitable to a windfall of five pounds. She had
already devised some very agreeable expedients, among others a dress
of green silk for herself and a trip to Richmond, when a jangling of
the front door bell summoned her into the shop. The customer was an
examination coach who came to complain of the non-delivery of certain
frogs asked for the previous day. Mrs Cave did not approve of this
particular branch of Mr Cave’s business, and the gentleman, who had
called in a somewhat aggressive mood, retired after a brief exchange of
words--entirely civil, so far as he was concerned. Mrs Cave’s eye then
naturally turned to the window; for the sight of the crystal was an
assurance of the five pounds and of her dreams. What was her surprise
to find it gone!
She went to the place behind the locker on the counter where she had
discovered it the day before. It was not there; and she immediately
began an eager search about the shop.
When Mr Cave returned from his business with the dogfish, about a
quarter to two in the afternoon, he found the shop in some confusion,
and his wife, extremely exasperated and on her knees behind the
counter, routing among his taxidermic material. Her face came up hot
and angry over the counter, as the jangling bell announced his return,
and she forthwith accused him of ‘hiding it.’
‘Hid _what_?’ asked Mr Cave.
‘The crystal!’
At that Mr Cave, apparently much surprised, rushed to the window.
‘Isn’t it here?’ he said. ‘Great Heavens! what has become of it?’
Just then Mr Cave’s stepson re-entered the shop from the inner room--he
had come home a minute or so before Mr Cave--and he was blaspheming
freely. He was apprenticed to a second-hand furniture dealer down the
road, but he had his meals at home, and he was naturally annoyed to
find no dinner ready.
But when he heard of the loss of the crystal, he forgot his meal, and
his anger was diverted from his mother to his stepfather. Their first
idea, of course, was that he had hidden it. But Mr Cave stoutly denied
all knowledge of its fate, freely offering his bedabbled affidavit
in the matter--and at last was worked up to the point of accusing,
first, his wife and then his stepson of having taken it with a view
to a private sale. So began an exceedingly acrimonious and emotional
discussion, which ended for Mrs Cave in a peculiar nervous condition
midway between hysterics and amuck, and caused the stepson to be half
an hour late at the furniture establishment in the afternoon. Mr Cave
took refuge from his wife’s emotions in the shop.
In the evening the matter was resumed, with less passion and in a
judicial spirit, under the presidency of the stepdaughter. The supper
passed unhappily and culminated in a painful scene. Mr Cave gave way
at last to extreme exasperation, and went out banging the front door
violently. The rest of the family, having discussed him with the
freedom his absence warranted, hunted the house from garret to cellar,
hoping to light upon the crystal.
The next day the two customers called again. They were received by
Mrs Cave almost in tears. It transpired that no one _could_ imagine
all that she had stood from Cave at various times in her married
pilgrimage.... She also gave a garbled account of the disappearance.
The clergyman and the Oriental laughed silently at one another, and
said it was very extraordinary. As Mrs Cave seemed disposed to give
them the complete history of her life they made to leave the shop.
Thereupon Mrs Cave, still clinging to hope, asked for the clergyman’s
address, so that, if she could get anything out of Cave, she might
communicate it. The address was duly given, but apparently was
afterwards mislaid. Mrs Cave can remember nothing about it.
In the evening of that day the Caves seem to have exhausted their
emotions, and Mr Cave, who had been out in the afternoon, supped in
a gloomy isolation that contrasted pleasantly with the impassioned
controversy of the previous days. For some time matters were very
badly strained in the Cave household, but neither crystal nor customer
reappeared.
Now, without mincing the matter, we must admit that Mr Cave was a
liar. He knew perfectly well where the crystal was. It was in the
rooms of Mr Jacoby Wace, Assistant Demonstrator at St Catherine’s
Hospital, Westbourne Street. It stood on the sideboard partially
covered by a black velvet cloth, and beside a decanter of American
whisky. It is from Mr Wace, indeed, that the particulars upon which
this narrative is based were derived. Cave had taken off the thing to
the hospital hidden in the dog-fish sack, and there had pressed the
young investigator to keep it for him. Mr Wace was a little dubious
at first. His relationship to Cave was peculiar. He had a taste for
singular characters, and he had more than once invited the old man to
smoke and drink in his rooms, and to unfold his rather amusing views of
life in general and of his wife in particular. Mr Wace had encountered
Mrs Cave, too, on occasions when Mr Cave was not at home to attend to
him. He knew the constant interference to which Cave was subjected, and
having weighed the story judicially, he decided to give the crystal
a refuge. Mr Cave promised to explain the reasons for his remarkable
affection for the crystal more fully on a later occasion, but he spoke
distinctly of seeing visions therein. He called on Mr Wace the same
evening.
He told a complicated story. The crystal he said had come into his
possession with other oddments at the forced sale of another curiosity
dealer’s effects, and not knowing what its value might be, he had
ticketed it at ten shillings. It had hung upon his hands at that price
for some months, and he was thinking of ‘reducing the figure,’ when he
made a singular discovery.
At that time his health was very bad--and it must be borne in mind
that, throughout all this experience his physical condition was
one of ebb--and he was in considerable distress by reason of the
negligence, the positive ill-treatment even, he received from his wife
and stepchildren. His wife was vain, extravagant, unfeeling, and had
a growing taste for private drinking; his stepdaughter was mean and
over-reaching; and his stepson had conceived a violent dislike for him,
and lost no chance of showing it. The requirements of his business
pressed heavily upon him, and Mr Wace does not think that he was
altogether free from occasional intemperance. He had begun life in a
comfortable position, he was a man of fair education, and he suffered,
for weeks at a stretch, from melancholia and insomnia. Afraid to
disturb his family, he would slip quietly from his wife’s side, when
his thoughts became intolerable, and wander about the house. And about
three o’clock one morning, late in August, chance directed him into the
shop.
The dirty little place was impenetrably black except in one spot, where
he perceived an unusual glow of light. Approaching this, he discovered
it to be the crystal egg, which was standing on the corner of the
counter towards the window. A thin ray smote through a crack in the
shutters, impinged upon the object, and seemed as it were to fill its
entire interior.
It occurred to Mr Cave that this was not in accordance with the laws of
optics as he had known them in his younger days. He could understand
the rays being refracted by the crystal and coming to a focus in its
interior, but this diffusion jarred with his physical conceptions.
He approached the crystal nearly, peering into it and round it, with
a transient revival of the scientific curiosity that in his youth
had determined his choice of a calling. He was surprised to find the
light not steady, but writhing within the substance of the egg, as
though that object was a hollow sphere of some luminous vapour. In
moving about to get different points of view, he suddenly found that
he had come between it and the ray, and that the crystal none the less
remained luminous. Greatly astonished, he lifted it out of the light
ray and carried it to the darkest part of the shop. It remained bright
for some four or five minutes, when it slowly faded and went out. He
placed it in the thin streak of daylight, and its luminousness was
almost immediately restored.
So far, at least, Mr Wace was able to verify the remarkable story
of Mr Cave. He has himself repeatedly held this crystal in a ray of
light (which had to be of a less diameter than one millimetre). And
in a perfect darkness, such as could be produced by velvet wrapping,
the crystal did undoubtedly appear very faintly phosphorescent. It
would seem, however, that the luminousness was of some exceptional
sort, and not equally visible to all eyes; for Mr Harbinger--whose
name will be familiar to the scientific reader in connection with the
Pasteur Institute--was quite unable to see any light whatever. And
Mr Wace’s own capacity for its appreciation was out of comparison
inferior to that of Mr Cave’s. Even with Mr Cave the power varied
very considerably: his vision was most vivid during states of extreme
weakness and fatigue.
Now, from the outset, this light in the crystal exercised a curious
fascination upon Mr Cave. And it says more for his loneliness of soul
than a volume of pathetic writing could do, that he told no human
being of his curious observations. He seems to have been living in
such an atmosphere of petty spite that to admit the existence of a
pleasure would have been to risk the loss of it. He found that as the
dawn advanced, and the amount of diffused light increased, the crystal
became to all appearance non-luminous. And for some time he was unable
to see anything in it, except at night-time, in dark corners of the
shop.
But the use of an old velvet cloth, which he used as a background for
a collection of minerals, occurred to him, and by doubling this, and
putting it over his head and hands, he was able to get a sight of the
luminous movement within the crystal even in the day-time. He was
very cautious lest he should be thus discovered by his wife, and he
practised this occupation only in the afternoons, while she was asleep
upstairs, and then circumspectly in a hollow under the counter. And one
day, turning the crystal about in his hands, he saw something. It came
and went like a flash, but it gave him the impression that the object
had for a moment opened to him the view of a wide and spacious and
strange country; and turning it about, he did, just as the light faded,
see the same vision again.
Now it would be tedious and unnecessary to state all the phases of Mr
Cave’s discovery from this point. Suffice that the effect was this: the
crystal, being peered into at an angle of about 137 degrees from the
direction of the illuminating ray, gave a clear and consistent picture
of a wide and peculiar countryside. It was not dream-like at all: it
produced a definite impression of reality, and the better the light
the more real and solid it seemed. It was a moving picture: that is to
say, certain objects moved in it, but slowly in an orderly manner like
real things, and, according as the direction of the lighting and vision
changed, the picture changed also. It must, indeed, have been like
looking through an oval glass at a view, and turning the glass about to
get at different aspects.
Mr Cave’s statements, Mr Wace assures me, were extremely
circumstantial, and entirely free from any of that emotional quality
that taints hallucinatory impressions. But it must be remembered that
all the efforts of Mr Wace to see any similar clarity in the faint
opalescence of the crystal were wholly unsuccessful, try as he would.
The difference in intensity of the impressions received by the two men
was very great, and it is quite conceivable that what was a view to Mr
Cave was a mere blurred nebulosity to Mr Wace.
The view, as Mr Cave described it, was invariably of an extensive
plain, and he seemed always to be looking at it from a considerable
height, as if from a tower or a mast. To the east and to the west the
plain was bounded at a remote distance by vast reddish cliffs, which
reminded him of those he had seen in some picture; but what the picture
was Mr Wace was unable to ascertain. These cliffs passed north and
south--he could tell the points of the compass by the stars that were
visible of a night--receding in an almost illimitable perspective and
fading into the mists of the distance before they met. He was nearer
the eastern set of cliffs; on the occasion of his first vision the
sun was rising over them, and black against the sunlight and pale
against their shadow appeared a multitude of soaring forms that Mr
Cave regarded as birds. A vast range of buildings spread below him; he
seemed to be looking down upon them; and as they approached the blurred
and refracted edge of the picture they became indistinct. There were
also trees curious in shape, and in colouring a deep mossy green and an
exquisite gray, beside a wide and shining canal. And something great
and brilliantly coloured flew across the picture. But the first time Mr
Cave saw these pictures he saw only in flashes, his hands shook, his
head moved, the vision came and went, and grew foggy and indistinct.
And at first he had the greatest difficulty in finding the picture
again once the direction of it was lost.
His next clear vision, which came about a week after the first, the
interval having yielded nothing but tantalising glimpses and some
useful experience, showed him the view down the length of the valley.
The view was different, but he had a curious persuasion, which his
subsequent observations abundantly confirmed, that he was regarding
the strange world from exactly the same spot, although he was looking
in a different direction. The long façade of the great building, whose
roof he had looked down upon before, was now receding in perspective.
He recognised the roof. In the front of the façade was a terrace of
massive proportions and extraordinary length, and down the middle of
the terrace, at certain intervals, stood huge but very graceful masts,
bearing small shiny objects which reflected the setting sun. The import
of these small objects did not occur to Mr Cave until some time after,
as he was describing the scene to Mr Wace. The terrace overhung a
thicket of the most luxuriant and graceful vegetation, and beyond this
was a wide grassy lawn on which certain broad creatures, in form like
beetles but enormously larger, reposed. Beyond this again was a richly
decorated causeway of pinkish stone; and beyond that, and lined with
dense red weeds, and passing up the valley exactly parallel with the
distant cliffs, was a broad and mirror-like expanse of water. The air
seemed full of squadrons of great birds, manœuvring in stately curves;
and across the river was a multitude of splendid buildings, richly
coloured and glittering with metallic tracery and facets, among a
forest of moss-like and lichenous trees. And suddenly something flapped
repeatedly across the vision, like the fluttering of a jewelled fan or
the beating of a wing, and a face, or rather the upper part of a face
with very large eyes, came as it were close to his own and as if on the
other side of the crystal. Mr Cave was so startled and so impressed
by the absolute reality of these eyes that he drew his head back from
the crystal to look behind it. He had become so absorbed in watching
that he was quite surprised to find himself in the cool darkness of his
little shop, with its familiar odour of methyl, mustiness, and decay.
And as he blinked about him, the glowing crystal faded and went out.
Such were the first general impressions of Mr Cave. The story is
curiously direct and circumstantial. From the outset, when the valley
first flashed momentarily on his senses, his imagination was strangely
affected, and as he began to appreciate the details of the scene he
saw, his wonder rose to the point of a passion. He went about his
business listless and distraught, thinking only of the time when he
should be able to return to his watching. And then a few weeks after
his first sight of the valley came the two customers, the stress and
excitement of their offer, and the narrow escape of the crystal from
sale, as I have already told.
Now, while the thing was Mr Cave’s secret, it remained a mere wonder,
a thing to creep to covertly and peep at, as a child might peep upon a
forbidden garden. But Mr Wace has, for a young scientific investigator,
a particularly lucid and consecutive habit of mind. Directly the
crystal and its story came to him, and he had satisfied himself, by
seeing the phosphorescence with his own eyes, that there really was a
certain evidence for Mr Cave’s statements, he proceeded to develop the
matter systematically. Mr Cave was only too eager to come and feast his
eyes on this wonderland he saw, and he came every night from half-past
eight until half-past ten, and sometimes, in Mr Wace’s absence, during
the day. On Sunday afternoons, also, he came. From the outset Mr Wace
made copious notes, and it was due to his scientific method that the
relation between the direction from which the initiating ray entered
the crystal and the orientation of the picture were proved. And, by
covering the crystal in a box perforated only with a small aperture to
admit the exciting ray, and by substituting black holland for his buff
blinds, he greatly improved the conditions of the observations; so that
in a little while they were able to survey the valley in any direction
they desired.
So having cleared the way, we may give a brief account of this
visionary world within the crystal. The things were in all cases seen
by Mr Cave, and the method of working was invariably for him to watch
the crystal and report what he saw, while Mr Wace (who as a science
student had learnt the trick of writing in the dark) wrote a brief
note of his report. When the crystal faded, it was put into its box in
the proper position and the electric light turned on. Mr Wace asked
questions, and suggested observations to clear up difficult points.
Nothing, indeed, could have been less visionary and more matter-of-fact.
The attention of Mr Cave had been speedily directed to the bird-like
creatures he had seen so abundantly present in each of his earlier
visions. His first impression was soon corrected, and he considered
for a time that they might represent a diurnal species of bat. Then
he thought, grotesquely enough, that they might be cherubs. Their
heads were round and curiously human, and it was the eyes of one
of them that had so startled him on his second observation. They
had broad, silvery wings, not feathered, but glistening almost as
brilliantly as new-killed fish and with the same subtle play of colour,
and these wings were not built on the plan of bird-wing or bat, Mr
Wace learned, but supported by curved ribs radiating from the body.
(A sort of butterfly wing with curved ribs seems best to express
their appearance.) The body was small, but fitted with two bunches
of prehensile organs, like long tentacles, immediately under the
mouth. Incredible as it appeared to Mr Wace, the persuasion at last
became irresistible that it was these creatures which owned the great
quasi-human buildings and the magnificent garden that made the broad
valley so splendid. And Mr Cave perceived that the buildings, with
other peculiarities, had no doors, but that the great circular windows,
which opened freely, gave the creatures egress and entrance. They would
alight upon their tentacles, fold their wings to a smallness almost
rod-like, and hop into the interior. But among them was a multitude of
smaller-winged creatures, like great dragon-flies and moths and flying
beetles, and across the greensward brilliantly-coloured gigantic
ground-beetles crawled lazily to and fro. Moreover, on the causeways
and terraces, large-headed creatures similar to the greater winged
flies, but wingless, were visible, hopping busily upon their hand-like
tangle of tentacles.
Allusion has already been made to the glittering objects upon masts
that stood upon the terrace of the nearer building. It dawned upon
Mr Cave, after regarding one of these masts very fixedly on one
particularly vivid day that the glittering object there was a crystal
exactly like that into which he peered. And a still more careful
scrutiny convinced him that each one in a vista of nearly twenty
carried a similar object.
Occasionally one of the large flying creatures would flutter up to
one, and folding its wings and coiling a number of its tentacles about
the mast, would regard the crystal fixedly for a space--sometimes for
as long as fifteen minutes. And a series of observations, made at the
suggestion of Mr Wace, convinced both watchers that, so far as this
visionary world was concerned, the crystal into which they peered
actually stood at the summit of the endmost mast on the terrace,
and that on one occasion at least one of these inhabitants of this
other world had looked into Mr Cave’s face while he was making these
observations.
So much for the essential facts of this very singular story. Unless
we dismiss it all as the ingenious fabrication of Mr Wace, we have to
believe one of two things: either that Mr Cave’s crystal was in two
worlds at once, and that while it was carried about in one, it remained
stationary in the other, which seems altogether absurd; or else that it
had some peculiar relation of sympathy with another and exactly similar
crystal in this other world, so that what was seen in the interior of
the one in this world was, under suitable conditions, visible to an
observer in the corresponding crystal in the other world; and _vice
versa_. At present, indeed, we do not know of any way in which two
crystals could so come _en rapport_, but nowadays we know enough to
understand that the thing is not altogether impossible. This view of
the crystals as _en rapport_ was the supposition that occurred to Mr
Wace, and to me at least it seems extremely plausible....
And where was this other world? On this, also, the alert intelligence
of Mr Wace speedily threw light. After sunset, the sky darkened
rapidly--there was a very brief twilight interval indeed--and the stars
shone out. They were recognisably the same as those we see, arranged
in the same constellations. Mr Cave recognised the Bear, the Pleiades,
Aldebaran, and Sirius; so that the other world must be somewhere in the
solar system, and, at the utmost, only a few hundreds of millions of
miles from our own. Following up this clue, Mr Wace learned that the
midnight sky was a darker blue even than our midwinter sky, and that
the sun seemed a little smaller. _And there were two small moons!_
‘like our moon but smaller, and quite differently marked,’ one of which
moved so rapidly that its motion was clearly visible, as one regarded
it. These moons were never high in the sky, but vanished as they rose:
that is, every time they revolved they were eclipsed because they were
so near their primary planet. And all this answers quite completely,
although Mr Cave did not know it, to what must be the condition of
things on Mars.
Indeed, it seems an exceedingly plausible conclusion that peering
into this crystal Mr Cave did actually see the planet Mars and its
inhabitants. And if that be the case, then the evening star that shone
so brilliantly in the sky of that distant vision was neither more nor
less than our own familiar earth.
For a time the Martians--if they were Martians--do not seem to
have known of Mr Cave’s inspection. Once or twice one would come to
peer, and go away very shortly to some other mast, as though the
vision was unsatisfactory. During this time Mr Cave was able to watch
the proceedings of these winged people without being disturbed by
their attentions, and although his report is necessarily vague and
fragmentary, it is nevertheless very suggestive. Imagine the impression
of humanity a Martian observer would get who, after a difficult process
of preparation and with considerable fatigue to the eyes, was able to
peer at London from the steeple of St Martin’s Church for stretches,
at longest, of four minutes at a time. Mr Cave was unable to ascertain
if the winged Martians were the same as the Martians who hopped about
the causeways and terraces, and if the latter could put on wings at
will. He several times saw certain clumsy bipeds, dimly suggestive of
apes, white and partially translucent, feeding among certain of the
lichenous trees, and once some of these fled before one of the hopping,
round-headed Martians. The latter caught one in its tentacles, and
then the picture faded suddenly and left Mr Cave most tantalisingly in
the dark. On another occasion a vast thing, that Mr Cave thought at
first was some gigantic insect, appeared advancing along the causeway
beside the canal with extraordinary rapidity. As this drew nearer
Mr Cave perceived that it was a mechanism of shining metals and of
extraordinary complexity. And then, when he looked again, it had passed
out of sight.
After a time Mr Wace aspired to attract the attention of the Martians,
and the next time that the strange eyes of one of them appeared close
to the crystal Mr Cave cried out and sprang away, and they immediately
turned on the light and began to gesticulate in a manner suggestive of
signalling. But when at last Mr Cave examined the crystal again the
Martian had departed.
Thus far these observations had progressed in early November, and then
Mr Cave, feeling that the suspicions of his family about the crystal
were allayed, began to take it to and fro with him in order that, as
occasion arose in the daytime or night, he might comfort himself with
what was fast becoming the most real thing in his existence.
In December Mr Wace’s work in connection with a forthcoming examination
became heavy, the sittings were reluctantly suspended for a week, and
for ten or eleven days--he is not quite sure which--he saw nothing of
Cave. He then grew anxious to resume these investigations, and, the
stress of his seasonal labours being abated, he went down to Seven
Dials. At the corner he noticed a shutter before a bird fancier’s
window, and then another at a cobbler’s. Mr Cave’s shop was closed.
He rapped and the door was opened by the stepson in black. He at once
called Mrs Cave, who was, Mr Wace could not but observe, in cheap but
ample widow’s weeds of the most imposing pattern. Without any very
great surprise Mr Wace learnt that Cave was dead and already buried.
She was in tears, and her voice was a little thick. She had just
returned from Highgate. Her mind seemed occupied with her own prospects
and the honourable details of the obsequies, but Mr Wace was at last
able to learn the particulars of Cave’s death. He had been found dead
in his shop in the early morning, the day after his last visit to Mr
Wace, and the crystal had been clasped in his stone-cold hands. His
face was smiling, said Mrs Cave, and the velvet cloth from the minerals
lay on the floor at his feet. He must have been dead five or six hours
when he was found.
This came as a great shock to Wace, and he began to reproach himself
bitterly for having neglected the plain symptoms of the old man’s
ill-health. But his chief thought was of the crystal. He approached
that topic in a gingerly manner, because he knew Mrs Cave’s
peculiarities. He was dumbfounded to learn that it was sold.
Mrs Cave’s first impulse, directly Cave’s body had been taken upstairs,
had been to write to the mad clergyman who had offered five pounds
for the crystal, informing him of its recovery; but after a violent
hunt, in which her daughter joined her, they were convinced of the
loss of his address. As they were without the means required to mourn
and bury Cave in the elaborate style the dignity of an old Seven Dials
inhabitant demands, they had appealed to a friendly fellow-tradesman
in Great Portland Street. He had very kindly taken over a portion of
the stock at a valuation. The valuation was his own, and the crystal
egg was included in one of the lots. Mr Wace, after a few suitable
condolences, a little offhandedly proffered perhaps, hurried at once to
Great Portland Street. But there he learned that the crystal egg had
already been sold to a tall, dark man in gray. And there the material
facts in this curious, and to me at least very suggestive, story come
abruptly to an end. The Great Portland Street dealer did not know who
the tall dark man in gray was, nor had he observed him with sufficient
attention to describe him minutely. He did not even know which way this
person had gone after leaving the shop. For a time Mr Wace remained in
the shop, trying the dealer’s patience with hopeless questions, venting
his own exasperation. And at last, realising abruptly that the whole
thing had passed out of his hands, had vanished like a vision of the
night, he returned to his own rooms, a little astonished to find the
notes he had made still tangible and visible upon his untidy table.
His annoyance and disappointment were naturally very great. He made
a second call (equally ineffectual) upon the Great Portland Street
dealer, and he resorted to advertisements in such periodicals as
were likely to come into the hands of a _bric-a-brac_ collector. He
also wrote letters to _The Daily Chronicle_ and _Nature_, but both
those periodicals, suspecting a hoax, asked him to reconsider his
action before they printed, and he was advised that such a strange
story, unfortunately so bare of supporting evidence, might imperil
his reputation as an investigator. Moreover, the calls of his proper
work were urgent. So that after a month or so, save for an occasional
reminder to certain dealers, he had reluctantly to abandon the quest
for the crystal egg, and from that day to this it remains undiscovered.
Occasionally, however, he tells me, and I can quite believe him, he has
bursts of zeal, in which he abandons his more urgent occupation and
resumes the search.
Whether or not it will remain lost for ever, with the material and
origin of it, are things equally speculative at the present time. If
the present purchaser is a collector, one would have expected the
inquiries of Mr Wace to have reached him through the dealers. He has
been able to discover Mr Cave’s clergyman and ‘Oriental’--no other than
the Rev. James Parker and the young Prince of Bosso-Kuni in Java. I
am obliged to them for certain particulars. The object of the Prince
was simply curiosity--and extravagance. He was so eager to buy because
Cave was so oddly reluctant to sell. It is just as possible that the
buyer in the second instance was simply a casual purchaser, and not
a collector at all, and the crystal egg, for all I know, may at the
present moment be within a mile of me, decorating a drawing-room or
serving as a paper-weight--its remarkable functions all unknown.
Indeed, it is partly with the idea of such a possibility that I have
thrown this narrative into a form that will give it a chance of being
read by the ordinary consumer of fiction.
My own ideas in the matter are practically identical with those of Mr
Wace. I believe the crystal on the mast in Mars and the crystal egg of
Mr Cave’s to be in some physical, but at present quite inexplicable,
way _en rapport_, and we both believe further that the terrestrial
crystal must have been--possibly at some remote date--sent hither from
that planet, in order to give the Martians a near view of our affairs.
Possibly the fellows to the crystals on the other masts are also on our
globe. No theory of hallucination suffices for the facts.