THE MASTER SPEAKS AGAIN
Having thus detailed rather minutely the situation in which the city and
the actors in its drama found themselves, it now becomes necessary to move
the action forward to the point where the moneyed interests took a hand in
the game.
That was brought about in somewhat more than fifty hours.
In the meantime the facts as to vibrations were published in all the
papers; the despatches and the relations between McCarthy and Monsieur X
exclusively in the _Despatch_--to that organ's vast satisfaction and
credit; and the possibilities of tragedy in none. This latter fact was
greatly to the credit of a maligned class of men. It is common belief
that no cause is too sacred or no consequence too grave to give pause to
the editorial rapacity for news. The present instance disproved that
supposition. No journal, yellow or otherwise, contained a line of
suggestion that anything beyond annoyance was to be feared from these
queer manifestations.
The consequences on a mixed population like that of New York were very
peculiar. The people naturally divided themselves into three classes. In
the first were those who had received their warning from logic, friends,
or the outside world; and who either promptly left town or, being unable
to do so, lived in fear. In the second were all that numerous body who,
neurasthenically unbalanced or near the overbalance, shut instinctively
the eyes of their reason and glowed with a devastating and fanatical
religious zeal. Among these, so extraordinarily are we constituted,
almost immediately grew up various sects, uniting only in the belief that
the wrath of God was upon an iniquitous people.
By far the largest class of all, comprising the every-day busy bulk of
the people, were those who accepted the thing at its face value, read its
own papers, went about its business, and spared time to laugh at the
absurdities or growl at the inconveniences of the phenomena. With true
American adaptability, it speedily accustomed itself to both the
expectation of, and the coping with, unusual conditions. It went forth
about its daily affairs; it started for home a little early in order to
get there in season; it eschewed subways and theaters; it learned to wait
patiently, when one of the three blights struck its world, as a man waits
patiently for a shower to pass.
This class, as has been said, was preponderantly in the majority, but
its mass was being constantly diminished as a little knowledge of
danger seeped into its substance. News of the possible catastrophe
passed from mouth to mouth; a world outside, waiting aghast at such
fatuity, began to get in its messages. Street corner alarmists talked
to such as would listen. Thousands upon thousands left the city.
Hundreds of thousands more, tied hard and fast by the strings of
necessity, waited in an hourly growing dread.
The "sign" had been sent promptly at six o'clock, as promised. It proved
Darrow's prediction by turning out to be a stoppage of the electrical
systems. This time it lasted only half an hour-long enough to throw the
traffic and transportation into confusion. It was followed at short
intervals by demonstrations in light and sound; none was of long duration.
After the first few, their occurrence came freakishly, in flashes, as
though the hidden antagonist delighted in confusing his immense audience.
The messages he sent over the wireless in the Atlas Building grew more and
more threatening and grandiose. They demanded invariably that McCarthy
should be sought out and delivered up to a rather vaguely described
vengeance; and threatened with dire calamities all the inhabitants of
Manhattan if the Unknown's desires were not fulfilled. These threats grew
more definite in character as time went on.
The effect of all this in the long run was, of course, confusion and
instability. People laughed or cursed; but they also listened and
reasoned. Gradually, throughout the city, dread was extending the
blackness of its terror. A knowledge that would have caused a tremendous
panic if it had been divulged suddenly now gave birth to a deep seated
uneasiness.
Where the panic would have torn men up by the roots and flung them in
terrorized mobs through the congested ways and out into the inhospitable
country, the uneasiness of dread held them cowering at their accustomed
tasks. They were afraid; but they had had time to think, and they realized
what it would mean to leave their beloved or accustomed or necessary city,
as the case might be. And it must be remembered that the definite
knowledge of what might be feared was not yet disseminated among them.
But this attitude hurt business, and business struck back. The subways
were practically deserted; the theaters empty; the accustomed careless
life of the Great White Way thinned; the streams of life slackened.
Furthermore, the intelligent criminal immediately discovered that ideal
shields were being provided him gratis behind which to conduct his crimes.
In the silence a man could blow out the side of a bank building with
impunity, provided only he kept out of sight. In the darkness he could
pilfer at will, with only the proviso that he forget not his gum shoes.
The possibilities of night crime when electricity lacks have already been
touched upon.
To meet unusual conditions the people individually and collectively rose
to heights of forgotten ingenuity. The physical life of a city is so well
established that the average city dweller grows out of the pioneer virtue
of adaptability. Now once more these people were forced to meet new and
untried conditions, to guard against new dangers, new opposing forces. In
an incredibly short space of time they grew out of aimless panic. They
learned to sit tight; to guard adequately their lives, their treasure, and
even to a certain extent their time against undue loss.
In the meantime the moneyed powers had been prompt to act. They did not
intend to stand idly while their pockets were being picked by untoward
circumstances; nor did they intend to continue indefinitely the unusual
expenditures necessary to guard themselves against even a greater loss. As
there seemed to be two men to find, they employed the best of detectives
to search for McCarthy; and professor Eldridge, as the greatest living
expert, to hunt down the Unknown. Thus unexpectedly Eldridge found himself
with definite backing in his strange duel with Darrow.
It is now desirable to place before the reader samples of the messages
sent by Monsieur X and received in the wireless office of the Atlas
Building, after which we can proceed once more to follow out the sequence
of events.
"TO THE PEOPLE: The sign has been sent you. You must now believe.
The traitor is among you, and you must hunt him down. This is your
sacred duty, for I, your master, have laid it upon you."
That was one of the first. After a round dozen of similar import, there
came this:
"TO THE PEOPLE: I, your master, am displeased with you. The
visitations of darkness and of silence have been sent, but you have
heeded little. I doubt not that ye search, as I have commanded, but
you do not realize to the full your sacred obligation. You go about
your business and you carry on your affairs. Your business and your
affairs are not so important as these, my commands. Beware lest you
draw down the wrath of the Lord's Anointed. I am patient with your
ignorance; but give heed."
The last at present to which your attention is called came just before the
events to be detailed:
"TO THE PEOPLE: Your time is drawing short. You are a stubborn and a
stiff-necked generation. My patience is ebbing away. You have been
shown the power of my right hand, and you have gone your accustomed
ways. You have defied the might of the Right Hand of God. Now I will
lay on you my commands.
"You must seek out Apollyon and deliver him even into my hands, and
that shortly. I shall be patient yet a little while longer, for I
know that you grope in darkness and have not the light that shines
upon me. But soon I shall strike."