has ever seen. You will see the work of many past generations, and you
will see strange inventions that are of the future. Science has been
very slow in its progress, compared with what my family has achieved."
Pierre laughed, a rather cracked and squeaky laugh, somewhat disturbing
to Carl; it was the first time he had heard the man laugh. "Indeed,
my boy, if you live through this, you will never forget it; yet you
will never be able to tell another soul. Imagine it! How little the
people on this world really know of what is going on about them! Here
is busy, foggy, magnificent, dingy, dirty London with her many souls
living their frustrated daily lives, their noses to the ground; and
every night a drama they can never see is played up there in the sky.
In their very midst two houses hold the powers and the secrets of ages
beyond recall!"
_4. The Scene in the Bowl_
Pierre's home was a decaying old town house of red brick, with bleak
shuttered windows and a gray slate roof. Conservative and ancient, it
stood like an unfriendly hermit, far back from the street.
Carl was impressed with the solid, substantial appearance of the old
house. At one end of it, the north wing, was a glass-enclosed room,
beginning at the second story and ending slightly above the regular
roof-line of the building. The front door was of fortified steel. To
the dull surface of the door was secured a substantial bronze tablet,
covered with a rich patina of long exposure, on which were inscribed
the words:
BRING NOT YOUR TALES OF THE WORLD
YOU KNOW, FOR BEHIND THIS DOOR
LIES A WORLD YOU WILL NEVER ENTER.
"A most hospitable door," Carl said.
"Yes, a door without a latch-key," Pierre replied.
"Then how do you open it?"
His question was answered with the silent movement of the steel door,
as if someone had opened it from the inside; although in the dim light
of the reception hall, Carl could see no sign of another occupant.
"It opens by cutting off the beam of light that passes from the post
at one side of the door to the post on the other," Pierre said, as he
ushered Carl into the hallway.
Carl turned and watched the door close silently behind him.
"You have them in some of your modern office buildings," Pierre
continued. "This door has opened that way for the past forty years. My
father developed the principle. Come, we will go to my observatory."
Pierre led Carl to a narrow stairway leading upward to the north
wing. Up one flight they moved silently. A dim blue light illuminated
the landing, and shed its ghostly rays down another hall. Up another
flight, leading in the same general direction, they walked. Carl felt
as if he were climbing slowly through a mad dream.
Passing through a heavy, rivet-studded door, they entered the
laboratory. The room was vast, covering the entire top floor of the
house. The glass enclosure which he had seen from outside served only
one end and corner of this amazing room. The walls were of a peculiar
gray, glowing softly as if phosphorescent. Throughout the entire
expanse of the room there was arranged an incalculable assortment
of instruments, switch-boards, control-panels, glass and polished
chromium, copper and brass. To Carl it was like suddenly entering a
room fitted with all the strange instruments of the alchemists, and yet
it was like looking ahead, fifty, a hundred or even two hundred years
into the future.
Pierre led the astounded Carl over beneath the glass dome. Here seemed
to be the major control position for all the complex horde of machines
that filled the room. In the center of this circular space stood a
small insulated platform. Upon it, supported by gleaming glass rods,
stood a huge, hollow hemisphere, from which emanated an eery blue
light. Coming closer and looking downward into it, Carl was thrilled to
see moving objects, familiar outlines of buildings he knew belonged to
that part of London called Piccadilly Circus.
"This will explain the question you asked me earlier in the evening.
The inventors of modern television would be envious if they knew of
this creation. I need no transmitting station to bring into my home any
scene I may desire."
Pierre quickly removed his cape, and began tinkering with an assortment
of strange knobs upon a large panel back of the bowl. The Piccadilly
Circus scene disappeared, and into its place came a picture of Ruth's
deserted apartment.
Again Pierre turned the knobs, and the scene in the bowl became a
moving panorama of London streets. Swiftly they passed, until the
estate of the Countess Moonard appeared in the strange vessel.
"It is astounding. How--how----?" Carl gasped.
"To explain its operation would take all of our time, my boy. I have
many other things to show you, the work of my ancestors and myself.
This magnetic bowl has been most helpful. Through it I have been able
to follow the unholy activities of the Countess Moonard. That night
after I left you, I hurried back here and drew the light-rays of the
Countess Moonard's home into the bowl. I saw her anointing your fiancée
with the oils in preparation for the sacrifice to come; saw her filling
the mind of the girl with the evil suggestions of the God of Sudre.
When Ruth was sent back to her apartment, still in the trance of
Moonerism, I then took over her mind. I had to be cautious, as I did
not want her to confuse my suggestions with the thoughts of Moonere.
When you found Ruth this morning, the Countess and I were both battling
for control of the girl's mind."
"Can you see where they have Ruth?" Carl asked anxiously.
"Certainly!" Pierre turned the knobs again.
* * * * *
The little dials that traced the locations he wanted shivered onto the
desired points, and Carl beheld a thrilling sight. In the bowl there
was appearing a picture that resembled nothing of modern London. He saw
a temple of ancient Egypt. The towering pillars along the side of the
temple were adorned with strange hieroglyphics of forgotten beliefs.
The vision moved slowly, like a motion-picture camera shot traveling
to a close-up scene that ended at an altar where a mysterious fire was
burning. The picture remained steady for only a moment, then moved
on to a room filled with many pillows. Upon a richly draped couch,
Carl saw his fiancée lying as if in deep slumber. Negro slaves were
anointing her slim, white body with precious oils. The chamber of a
princess in some forgotten age this could have been--but the girl was
Ruth!
"What are they doing to her?" Carl cried out, his fingers reaching into
the bowl as if he hoped to pluck her from the couch.
"They are making ready for the night of the sacrifice. Every woman who
takes the vows of Moonere relinquishes her charms to the God of Sudre."
"You mean----?" Carl's fists tightened.
"It is the price each one pays for her beauty. Poor deluded fools!
They come to the Countess, seeking beauty and charm with which to win
and hold the man they love; instead, they give up their most priceless
virtue. The God of Sudre takes their charms onto himself."
"How? You say this God is not of this world?" Carl asked.
"Look!" Pierre changed the scene in the globe.
Slowly the picture moved down the magnificent room. It approached a
bronze platform, and paused. There upon the bronze dais, standing
erect, was the golden image of a man, or demigod. The image was about
seven feet tall. The details were perfectly wrought, and every muscle
and fiber of that magnificent nude statue was the embodiment of the
perfect development of masculinity. Yet it was a sensual development,
eliminating all that might be good, and emphasizing all that is base
and carnal. The face was cruel beyond any conception of men. The
features were sharply brutal. Silent and motionless it stood, but the
eyes were alive; and from them burned a dull, blue-black light that
chilled Carl's blood as he watched.
"That is the image of the God of Sudre," explained Pierre. "Tonight,
when the rays from Sudre become most intense, Sudre's spirit will
enter it, and it will become imbued with life, the evil life of Sudre.
Tonight it will indulge in an orgy of lust at which even the most
dissolute of ancient Romans would have shuddered. Your bride-to-be is
to give herself for ever to Sudre, and for ever she will be lost to
you. No mortal man will ever possess her."
"No! No!" Carl cried out in tortured frustration.
"You will see on the night of the sacrifice," Pierre said calmly.
"But what are you going to do to save her? You haven't told me yet how
this monster can be stopped."
"Everything I have and know, I will use. If I fail"--Pierre's shoulders
shrugged--"there is no one to carry out my work. If I win, Moonere will
be destroyed; the tortured souls, who have given all for beauty, will
at last be free. We have only a few hours more. As we have talked, this
night has passed. Another day is upon us; with its end comes the night
when the evil rays will be fully focussed. Moonere will again send the
hellish light that I have fought. Tonight I will use everything to
combat her--telepathy, advanced knowledge of science, and secrets that
will die with me."
"But what shall I be doing?"
"You will be helping me. Within these all too short hours, you will be
learning the operation of the many machines. Follow me."
Pierre led him to another corner of the room, where an instrument, not
unlike a telescope, was placed. He handed Carl a pair of glasses with
very thick, colored lenses.
"Look through these. Look into the instrument, and tell me what you
see."
"It looks like a beam of light, but it seems to stop in the sky; it is
like a highway of white marble that ends abruptly," Carl said.
"You see the ray from the fire on Sudre, traveling at a faster speed
than light, bringing with it the secret of beauty and death that only
the star-glass of Moonere can transmute to potency. Now watch this!"
Pierre moved to a high stand that supported a cone-shaped searchlight
reflector. He made several deft adjustments, and then pushed in a
switch on the long panel that ran the length of the room. Carl, with
the aid of the glasses, could see a light-beam shoot into the heavens
and travel in the direction of the beam that seemed suspended in the
sky.
"This is my latest invention. Everything depends upon it. Tonight you
will see a spectacular sight. Everything we do will be controlled from
here. You and I, working with science, destroying that which is beyond
this planet."
Carl looked about him. He reached out his hand and touched a metal
laboratory bench; its solidity reassured his slipping sense of the
reality of it all. Dazed, he wandered again to the bowl. What he saw
made him start as if he had been shot with electricity. Inspector
Chadwick was struggling with two brawny servants in the temple.
"It's Chadwick!" Carl cried. "They've captured him."
* * * * *
Pierre hurried to the glass.
"The fool!" he rasped. "Why did he go there? I thought you had warned
that detective friend of yours to keep out of this. Now they will make
him a prisoner. They may not wait until tonight for the sacrifice to
destroy him."
"Is there anything we can do?"
"Nothing, unless they hold him for the dance of the maidens in the
temple. One thing certain, he will be burned as I was, or even
destroyed upon the altar. Watch closely, and you will see why no one
has ever betrayed the secret of Moonere."
Breathlessly Carl watched them drag Chadwick into a small throneroom
where the Countess Moonard, clothed in the robes of an ancient
priestess, sat in serene majesty.
They threw him down in front of the throne. He rose and shook his fist
threateningly at the Countess. She smiled; her long, deeply beautiful
eyes looked into his face. His trembling arms stopped shaking and
dropped limply to his side. He stood in hypnotized rigidity. She
pointed to a door that slowly opened. Chadwick walked meekly through
it. The slaves bowed before the Countess and followed him through the
door.
[Illustration: "They threw him down in front of the throne."]
"He's going into the dungeon. They are saving him for a later
sacrifice," Pierre said, almost relieved. "That means we have time; we
may save him."
"Chadwick wouldn't have gone to the Countess' unless he suspected
something more than he let me know. He must have been well protected.
He's no fool. A man can't just disappear--not an Inspector from
Scotland Yard. Chadwick would have his men following him. They will get
him out of that dungeon," Carl spoke with growing determination.
"You are mistaken." Pierre turned the knobs again.
The bowl showed Chadwick's men rushing into the reception hall of the
Countess' home. Twisting the knob again, the bowl revealed the Countess
smiling innocently. A servant brought in three of Chadwick's men. They
began talking angrily to the Countess. Then the door where Chadwick had
gone down into the dungeon opened. He came out, and began talking to
his men.
"They're leaving!" Carl cried.
"Yes, he has instructed them to go. He has told them there is nothing
wrong. Your friend's mind no longer belongs to him; his every thought,
his words are the words and thoughts of Moonere. She has told him to
send the men away, assuring them that nothing is wrong. You see they
are gone. And now Chadwick returns to the dungeon."
"Why can't you take over his mind as you did Ruth's? You said you could
do it. Why can't you free him from Moonere's grasp?"
"I can," Pierre answered calmly, "but to do that would place your
fiancée in danger. Every minute I have concentrated upon her. Within
her mind is the continual conflict of two powers struggling for
supremacy. For the present, it is best that I whisper, 'Peace and
quiet,' to the girl. You see how she slumbers, so still and unmoving;
that aids my plan.
"When the time comes for the sacrifice, they will discover that their
lovely maiden is not to join their dance of passion."
Pierre began laughing at the thoughts that were damning Carl.
"You need not fear, my friend; she will sleep, sleep; and nothing
Moonere can do will make her gratify the desires of the evil God of
Sudre. Tonight you will see a disappointed God!"
_5. The Golden Image_
Throughout the hours, Carl crammed the many secrets of Pierre Soret's
strange machines. It seemed to him that he had forced the learning of
all the world into his brain.
Midnight found him staring with weary eyes into the sky. The night
was clear; and above the dimly haze-rimmed horizon Carl could see the
metallic glitter of the stars. Looking through the telescope with his
specially designed glasses, he found the light-beam again. This time it
hovered very closely to the center of the heavens.
Pierre moved from one machine to another, tightening little
adjustments, testing each minute detail.
When the beam reached its zenith, he said: "Now we will see the
beginning of war."
In the globe, Carl could see the temple. The fire upon the altar was
blazing brightly. Along the walls sat many slaves, playing strange
musical instruments. The light in the temple was blue, the silvery,
all-pervading blue of moonlight.
"Tonight they will begin the dance of invitation to the God of Sudre."
Pierre peered over Carl's shoulder into the bowl. "Before his golden
image, they will perform the subtle dance of seduction, inviting him to
come and take them in his arms, and embrace them. You see the beam of
light. From Sudre it has traveled the miles of space, and hurried with
its concentrated rays into the star-glass. See how the flames upon the
altar blaze tonight. The dance begins with Moonere's entrance. She will
give her signal. Watch!"
The Countess Moonard entered the temple from a small door at one
end, walked slowly through the throng, each worshipper bowing as she
passed, and came before the image of Sudre. Standing there, she was
both terrifying and beautiful. Her body became slowly rigid. She flung
back her head, and her long, black hair fell down behind her. Her
body glowed with sensuous intensity. She raised her arms slowly, in
supplication and desire, and then let them fall to her side.
The musicians increased the tempo of their playing. Onto the floor of
the temple came the dancing forms of many beautiful women, clad only in
their long hair that waved like misty light about their supple bodies.
Arms outstretched, they danced rhythmically before the idol. In the
pale blue light of the temple, their forms were like white marble
statues suddenly breathing life. Around and around before the God they
danced, their passionate movements growing more and more intense.
Carl watched, revolted and yet fascinated by the obscene gyrations
of these beautiful nude dancers who threw their charms in rhythmic
supplication toward the golden image.
Shadows darted about the temple walls, shadows of arms raised high
and lowered quickly across sculptured white curves, shadows of bodies
thrusting and withdrawing with compelling seductiveness. Beautiful
faces, swelling breasts, and eyes that cried for love--the love of an
inhuman idol of gold!
"It's moving!" Pierre cried. "The God of Sudre returns."
Carl could not speak; he could only stare into the glowing sphere.
The golden image was moving! Slowly the sinewy muscles of its arms
moved downward; strong golden fingers felt along its thighs; its chest
expanded as it drew in the scented breath of the temple. Carl saw the
arm of the God reach down and bring up a lovely white form. He saw her
swoon with pleasure in the embrace of this golden image that now lived.
He saw the God release the white form of the girl, saw her fair body
writhe with tormented desire, her hands clutching eagerly for him. On
he walked to the throne beside the altar. As he walked, the maidens
bent down before him, their lips caressed his feet, slender fingers
sought to touch him as he moved majestically above that sea of adoring
flesh. Moonere bowed before him. He touched her shoulder, and raised
her up to meet his lips in the lingering kiss. Then he sat down upon
the scarlet throne.
Food and wine were brought to him by the maidens, each seeking to
outdo the others in her attentions. They fairly groveled at his throne.
"Now they will bring him the new sacrifice," Pierre said tensely. "I
will let her walk slowly so that Moonere will fail to see that my mind
controls her. But he will never possess her!"
"Oh, God, I pray not!" cried Carl.
* * * * *
Ruth entered the temple, her eyes staring glassily in front of her.
From her shoulders trailed a flimsy white cloth, her slender form
gleaming through it in the pale blue light. Two of the maidens led her
to the Golden God. In torment, Carl watched him feast his eyes upon
Ruth's beauty. Unable to stand the sight, Carl turned from the globe.
He looked beseechingly to Pierre. The man's lips moved in formless
speech. Pierre was talking to Ruth, he knew. He looked again to see
if it had worked. Carl gasped as he saw Ruth fall in a crumpled faint
before the throne. Moonere rushed to her. The maidens began laboring
over Ruth's lifeless form. The Golden Image frowned. Carl watched the
look of surprize fade from Moonere's face; slowly, gradually it became
a smiling mask of cruelty. Pierre was now laughing.
"Ah, they do not enjoy that! Moonere is puzzled. Moonere and the Golden
God of Sudre are disappointed for once!" his voice rasped. He shook his
fist into the globe. "Now what will you do, Moonere? What will you do
to me?"
As Pierre spoke, Carl saw Moonere dart to the altar and pull quickly
upon some heavy chains that hung in front of the blazing fire. Slowly
a shining disk of platinum appeared. Moonere swung it rapidly until it
caught the light of the hellish fire that burned upon the altar. Its
glistening surface began to glow. Suddenly a blinding flash of light
engulfed the globe before the two figures concentrated in front of it.
Pierre's vast room filled with a strange purple and blue-green light.
"Quick! Turn on the ray-machine!" Pierre cried, pushing Carl out of his
way as he hurried to the panel. "Your glasses, don't forget them. Don't
forget to turn Z-4. And when I tell you, let me have R-9." Pierre was
shouting now.
All through the room the strange light shattered into millions of
little stars. The ray from Pierre's machine shot upward through the
sky. Carl saw it cross the ray that was coming from Sudre. The sky in
the vicinity of the rays, that could only be seen through Pierre's
glasses, was filled with a mighty conflict of fire.
"More phosphorous liquid. Hurry! Hurry!" Pierre was almost screaming
now. Carl pulled the lever, and the liquid poured into a tank beside
the ray-machine. He worked feverishly, following Pierre's orders.
Everything he had previously rehearsed, he now performed rapidly and
automatically. He turned knobs, pulled switches, poured mysterious
liquids into tanks, watched a pageantry of light and small sparkling
stars leap about the room, dancing from corner to corner.
The room grew hotter. Perspiration dripped from Carl's face as he
struggled to follow the orders issued by Pierre. Although he knew what
to do when Pierre commanded, he did not know what each separate action
meant. It was enough that he could recognize the orders and could do
what must have been the simplest of things in this maze of wizardry and
science Pierre had developed.
As Carl worked over a boiling vat that contained a thick mixture of
evil-smelling chemicals, he felt a severe burning sensation at the back
of his neck. Turning his head slightly, he saw two yellow flames shoot
toward him from the switch-board panel.
"Take that other tube and place it in the switch-box. Tube X! Tube X!"
Pierre's tone was frantic.
Carl whirled around in his excitement, and as he did so, a bottle fell
with an explosive crash. Smoke and fire leaped up from the floor.
Pierre quenched it quickly with an extinguisher. The heat of the room
was beginning to show upon Carl, and he sensed that in a moment he
would pass into unconsciousness.
The tube placed in the box as Pierre had directed, Carl staggered
blindly back to his duties between the tank and the switch-board panel.
"Something's wrong! Something's wrong!" he heard Pierre say in a
croaking voice. The fear that gripped him made it impossible for Carl
to ask what was wrong.
Pierre turned from the ray-machine. Carl saw him, and for the moment
went insane! Pierre's face was gone! There was only a blue light
shining from the open gap that had once been the face of Pierre Soret.
Somewhere in that horrible sight were two white pin-points that
retained a semblance of the man's eyes. Bluish smoke was issuing from
his entire body.
"We must work fast; perhaps you can finish what I have started,"
Pierre's broken voice came from the awful vision that represented him.
"My ray-machine is not powerful enough; I cannot concentrate the rays
on the temple with sufficient intensity to effect my purpose. You must
take my concentration mirror, which is similar to the one you saw
Moonere use. I must release your fiancée from my mind. You must submit
yourself to me. I will send you to the temple, if I last that long.
Your fiancée will be at their mercy until you arrive."
Sensing the danger, Carl hurried to the globe. Ruth was stretched upon
a couch in front of the throne. The maidens were working desperately
to revive her, while the Golden Image of Sudre glowered down upon her.
Carl realized that once Pierre released his grip upon her mind, Moonere
would send her into the greedy clutches of Sudre. Ruth would be lost to
him.
"No! I can't permit it. You must save her!" he cried. "But how? Man,
you are gone! You do not live, you can't exist as you are! In heaven's
name, how could you hope to save anyone, how can you even speak? How?
How?"
"This is the only way. Do not doubt me. The rays are destroying me.
Everything is going fast. You must go, and I will direct you," Pierre
said sternly.
Already Carl could feel the electric touch of Pierre's intellect
usurping his. Even his voice sounded weak as he cried out: "No! Save
Ruth! Save Ruth! Keep her asleep. Keep her--aslee----"
The blue fire that was Pierre became larger; nothing but blue, blue
light filled his eyes; and Pierre, the mind of the great but tortured
scientist, filled Carl's brain.