haste. Nothing can stop you. You _must_ get there!" Carl heard Pierre's
voice as a whisper.
At first he moved stiffly, as if each step needed the command of the
man who now controlled his brain. Gradually the feeling decreased. Carl
Fielding became Pierre Soret!
Into Carl's pocket Pierre thrust a round, silver disk.
* * * * *
Through the streets that led to the Countess Moonard's star-haunted
residence, Carl's roadster sped like a silver bullet upon an errand of
mercy. Twice he would have met certain death had it not been for the
super-intellect that made quick thinking snap his movements with the
deft skill of a racing driver.
"Go faster! There is little time to lose. Go faster! Do not be afraid,"
the voice of the professor rasped. The wind whipped past Carl's face.
Carl froze as he heard the next words of the man who gripped his brain.
"Do not be afraid; nothing can harm you now, for you are not guided by
the normal destiny of a human. Something stronger leads me on, and I
in turn send you upon this errand which may mean death for you. Some
Greater Power of Good now seems to be working against the Evil Thing of
Sudre.
"I am slowly being burned to some strange form, I know not what, but my
mind is keen and clear. It is the work of destiny, the destiny of good
perhaps. You are at the command of my brain."
Carl could not stop now, and even the mighty fear that shook him hurled
him forward. On he drove, knowing that every turn he made was being
watched by Pierre in the globe--but there was nothing he could do; he
was driven by a force far stronger than himself.
"Stop at the servant's entrance," Pierre said, as Carl turned his car
into the driveway that led to the Countess' home.
Carl brought his car to a quick stop and leapt from it onto the little
walk that led to a narrow doorway in the side of the house.
"Go through that hallway. Run!" the voice commanded.
Carl followed the directions, turning and twisting through a series of
doors and porticos, opening secret panels in the walls, and hurrying
through a confusing catacomb of corridors until at last he was within
the temple where no one else had ever gone without being brought before
the Inner Circle of Sudre. Now he was there.
They were dragging Inspector Chadwick to the altar. Huge black slaves
were preparing to toss him into the flames. The pealing laughter of the
Golden Image rang through the temple. The maidens were dancing; and in
the very center of their circle was Ruth, now wild-eyed with passion,
her face livid with the same desire Carl had seen upon the faces of the
others. She was moving to the Golden Image to give herself to the God
of Sudre.
"Reach into your left pocket!"
Carl's frustration ceased as he heard Pierre snap this command. The
dancing ceased. An awed hush fell upon the scene of the orgy. A
demoniacal scream arose from a chorus of horrified throats as Carl
whipped from his pocket the silver disk. Through the glasses he was
wearing, Carl saw a reflected ray of glaring intensity flash out from
the disk.
He flashed it over the heads of the screaming dancers. Forked tongues
of fire leapt in all directions, and licked out against the naked
bodies that fled beneath its swiftly darting flames.
The Golden Image roared in anger and plunged forward to strangle
Carl. He flashed the ray across the face of the thing, and to his
astonishment, the Golden Image seemed no longer alive. It stood still
as if it had returned to its former immobile self. Then it began to
melt!
"Strike Moonere! Strike Moonere!" came Pierre's staccato command.
Carl lashed the serpentine beam full across the Countess Moonard's
face. She cursed him, and screamed a horrible oath. He lashed her
again. Retreating before the flailing whip of fire from the disk, the
Countess ran and threw herself upon the altar. The flames leapt up, as
she disappeared in a flash of blue smoke.
"My work is almost over," Carl heard the faint voice of Pierre Soret,
coming like a sigh. "Throw the disk into the flames upon the altar.
Hurry, for the altar of Sudre will soon be cool, and only the ashes of
its evil reign will smolder in remembrance of the Fire of Sudre."
* * * * *
Carl hurled the disk into the now dwindling flames upon the altar. It
twisted and curled with the flames that wrapped about it. Finally the
flames sank and vanished, as a silvery snake-like wisp of smoke coiled
upward, and then sank gradually into obscurity.
"Now my work is finished," Carl heard Pierre's voice, this time coming
to him in the tones of whispered weariness. "Young man, do you know,
strange as all my life has been, strange as all the stories of my
family's struggle against the evil God of Sudre, I have never been
really frightened until now--now I find myself upon the brink of
another world.
"The house was burned. The flames consumed me; even as you raced to
the temple, the flames were destroying me, yet I did not die. I was so
afraid that I would die, and leave you in the temple with the evil I
knew was there; but I lived, even after I knew that everything in my
house was destroyed by fire. My inventions, my years of work--all were
destroyed.
"There is nothing but dreary coldness here; and in the darkness,
gray-lined specters hover all about me. Surely this is the realm
between the known and the unknown. It is strange to me, like a vast
sea of doubt surrounding my soul--yet in the distance I see a light, a
light of infinite brightness.
"My fear? Perhaps Sudre's evil ray has tainted my soul; and yet it
cannot be, for now, even here, I feel that same moving faith, the
magnetic power of good, drawing me on to some better destination. It
must be so. Even though I no longer live on earth, and I wander in a
land of dreadful strangeness, surely I have conquered evil.
"You are listening, my friend? You hear me speak to you from beyond the
border of this life. Shall I always do this? Will you be frightened,
young man, when you hear my voice?
"I am watching over you, guarding you from harm. Go to your sweetheart.
Lead her quickly from this temple of doom, for it is soon to fall.
Lead the ones who are returned to the reality of this earth out of the
temple of another world. Lead them into life as we knew it; at least as
_you_ knew it. Hurry! There is little time. I will guide you safely out
as I guided you into this secret domain."
Carl heard the rumble of falling stones, and saw huge cracks appear in
the scrolled walls. Picking Ruth up gently in his arms, he carried her
through the portal that would lead them to the outside. He beckoned to
the bewildered souls who had witnessed the end of their unholy service
to another god. They followed like innocent sheep. Only a few of the
black slaves and servants of Moonere remained, silent, stone-like
images that seemed no longer alive.
Like the thundering roll of a kettle-drum in some great symphony, Carl
heard the sound of the temple falling behind him. Every step of the
way that led through the intricate passages out of the Temple of Sudre
seemed to crumble as his followers fled close upon his foot-steps.
Soon they found themselves in the reception room of the Countess
Moonard; a strange company of unclad women, looking for some answer to
their question of where they had spent their lives. Slowly, gradually,
they seemed to sense that a terrible past lay behind them: something
that was to fade, even as the unnatural beauty of youth faded to
conform with their respective ages. Young faces on aged women were
growing old as they should have done long ago. With reality came their
sense of propriety, and they eagerly sought clothing with which to
cover themselves.
Pierre spoke again, commanding Carl to hurry them from the house.
Outside, in the clear light of the stars, they turned to see the home
of the Countess Moonard sink into the earth. The quick crackle of fire
popped in their ears, and the sky became illuminated with a great
conflagration.
Inspector Chadwick said little; Carl also remained silent. Tonight was
not the time to talk. Secretly Carl hoped that Chadwick would forget,
that everyone would forget the Countess Donella Moonard.
* * * * *
London Newspapers in their morning editions carried the story of two
fires: the destruction of a three-story house, occupied by an eccentric
Professor Pierre Soret, who had presumably compounded some dreadful
chemical which had destroyed him and his house; the other, an account
of a disaster, either an explosion or fire of unknown origin, that
completely demolished the home of the Countess Donella Moonard, killing
her and her staff of servants.
Beyond this there was no thought of any connection between the two
houses so far apart from each other. Carl smiled somewhat as he read:
"Although the Countess Moonard has been known to certain London
socialites, her ancestry was never certified; nor was the claim of
Countess hers by any English right. It is generally believed that the
Countess originally came from France. She was a woman of mystery and
rare beauty; her age was unknown. She was a follower of some strange
religious belief, probably of Egyptian origin."
* * * * *
There are women with snow-white hair and failing eyes, hobbling about
their homes; women who were once glamorous beauties, noted for their
coldness to all men, women whose beauty could have made them beloved.
Old and lonely now, they shun the world, living within their homes,
wondering when and what will be the end of their existence.
Doctor Carl Fielding has not heard the voice of Pierre Soret for
nearly a year now. Sometimes he thinks he hears the echo of that spirit
who so strangely left this life. For a while there were moments when
Carl felt an awful sense of fear, because the thoughts that were in
his brain that night were the thoughts of the man who lived within the
fire, but his wife's devotion has dispelled this gloomy fear and led
him on to hope.