It seemed as though he were right. The whole great pool of humanity
which comprised Capellette was still, quiescent, stagnant. Was there
nothing to arouse it, no ripple in the pool?
The doctor had this question uppermost in his mind when he located
young Ernol. He found him getting ready to accompany his father, who
seemed about to take advantage of the freedom Powart had
conditionally given him. There was no doubt about it; the radical
was going straight back to his revolutionary teaching.
He was saying, "Of course, my boy, I can't compel you to stay at
home." The doctor delighted in the vigorous, frank manner and
powerful voice of the man; they belonged perfectly with his black
hair and bristling beard, his flashing eyes and aggressive nose.
"I'd rather you stayed out of this; at the same time, I'd be a proud
man if you didn't!"
The student calmly finished his dressing. "What time did you tell
the men to come?" was all he said; and the father chuckled, then
sighed.
The two took flight in a small two-seater. It was night, and the
doctor took note of the planet's system of signal lights. Within
five minutes, however, the flight ended with a landing in some sort
of a deep depression; the doctor called it a ravine.
Climbing from the machine, the two apostles stepped a few paces in
total darkness; then the elder man produced a small electric torch,
which he wig-wagged above his head. There was a series of answering
flashes at a distance; and next moment a door, let into the side of
the ravine, opened right in front of the pair.
They stepped in and closed the door after them, then turned their
light down a long corridor. Reaching the end of this the doctor
noted a loophole in the wall, from which projected something
suspiciously, like the muzzle of a machine gun. He had no difficulty
in imagining the consequences should some one open that hidden door
without first giving the signal.
Much as one might enter a lodge-room, the two radicals showed their
faces at a port-hole in a door, after which they passed guards with
masklike helmets. In a few seconds they found themselves in a
brilliantly lighted hall, very large and commodious except for the
heavy pillars which supported its low ceiling. It was half filled
with men.
The elder Ernol had no use for formality. After brief greetings to
some kind of a committee, he took his place on a platform; while his
son unconsciously gratified the doctor by looking over the crowd.
Presumably they were all workers; and in one way they were all
alike; the habitual contentment in their faces had been momentarily
replaced by excitement. However, they were quiet and well behaved
enough.
"Comrades," began the radical without delay, "I appreciate your
coming here at all, under the circumstances. The commission plainly
warned me that any further teaching would be disastrous. I am not
sure, but I imagine they would arrest both myself and those found
with me. If there is any one who feels that he would rather not take
the risk, now is the time for him to go."
There was a moment's pause; then, in the back of the hall, two men
who had been sitting together got up and hurriedly went out. Ernol
waited, but there was no further exodus.
"I will lose no time then, but proceed to give you the proofs
regarding the commission." He produced a small parcel of
photographs. "These pictures are the most dangerous things I have
ever carried on my person. I took them in the dead of night, by
flashlight, in the library of the University of Calastia.
"They are"--he paused portentously--"reproductions of pages from the
secret census!"
To most of the men this meant something highly significant. They
cranned their necks in their excitement.
"I am going to pass them around, negatives and all. You see where I
have checked off the most important items. They prove to any one
with reason that the commission has been lying to us; that the
workers are being taxed more heavily than the owners; that the
owners are being favored in every way. I don't care whether you
agree with my ideas or not; these photographs"--his voice shook the
hall--"prove that the commission is not even giving you what you
thought you were getting!"
He took a single step down from the platform, his hand outstretched,
about to pass the parcel to the man in the nearest seat. At that
instant all the lights were extinguished.
There was a moment's stunned silence; then the place broke into an
uproar. Yells of fright and anger, the crashing of chairs, screams
of pain; all these young Ernol heard without himself giving voice.
He was sprinting down one side of the hall.
Suddenly there came a flash of light straight ahead. Ernol had
reached the outer corridor. And the doctor heard a great commotion
going on outside the door in the ravine; a smashing and thudding,
which filled the corridor with noise. Next second the door gave way,
and simultaneously young Ernol leaped into the niche behind the
thing which the doctor thought a machine gun. Another second, and he
had the device in operation.
From its muzzle shot a thin stream of fire, which extended the whole
length of the corridor. It lighted up everything with a bluish-white
glare, revealing a mob of men at the door. They fell back, yelling
with pain, some of them dropping in their tracks. And all the while
the apparatus was dealing, not a shower of bullets, but a streak of
liquid fire, which hissed and screamed like the blast from an oxygen
blow-pipe.
But it was all over in a second or two. A noise from behind, and
young Ernol started up suddenly, only to find himself in the grip of
a veritable giant of a man. His struggles were simply useless. In a
moment he was being carried bodily back into the hall, which the
doctor saw was now lighted as before.
On one side, lined up amid a mass of wrecked chairs, stood most of
the workers at bay. On the other were four men with small boxlike
devices, such as Billie had already seen in the hands of Powart's
guards, and which were kept trained threateningly upon the crowd. On
the platform stood Ernol, now quite helpless in the grasp of two
stalwart fellows.
The mob from the door poured in. Immediately they made captors of
all the workers, who had precious little to say. Apparently they had
been warned. The doctor also concluded that the capture was a piece
of treachery, in which bribery had been employed.
Two minutes later young Ernol was placed in a large passenger flier,
which the doctor labeled "Black Maria." Presumably the elder radical
was taken in another; at any rate after another flight in the
darkness, father and son shortly found themselves together again.
They were now in the drawing-room of some private residence,
concluded the doctor. This puzzled him somewhat until, after a brief
wait under the eyes of a half-dozen guards, the two radicals were
taken into another room.
Here, lying on a couch, was a man whom the doctor soon identified.
He was none other than Mona's patient, Eklan Norbith, the
commission's deputy in Calastia. He was a burly, dark-featured
fellow; and even though rigid in his plaster cast, he looked
competent and formidable.
"Ernol," said he in a heavy, domineering voice, "there is no need to
state the case to a man of your intelligence. You gave your word to
stop your teachings; you have been caught in the act. Frankly, I
rather thought you would do it; that is why I am here to-night. I
want--to deal with you personally."
He paused for breath, and then went on, still ignoring the student,
"Ernol, you know what I want. I want those photographs; and what is
more, I am going to have them. You must have passed them to some one
who escaped in the confusion; they have not been located on any one
who has been captured, nor were they hid in the hall. Now I will
give you exactly ten seconds [Footnote: For the sake of clearness,
the Capellan second, whose actual length is of course unknown, is
used here as though it were uniform with earth standards.] to tell
me what you did with them."
He eyed a clock on the wall.
The radical, whose hands were tied behind him, nevertheless managed
to strike a defiant pose. "I don't intend to tell you, Norbith. It
is true that I handed them to one of my comrades; but I shall not
tell you which one."
"Your time is up," said the man with the silver heart evenly. "Will
you tell?"
Ernol contented himself with a contemptuous shake of the head. The
man of the couch, for the first time conceding young Ernol's
presence, now ordered him brought forward.
"I know," he told the father, "that it would be useless to work with
YOU. You are just fool enough to imagine that suffering means
martyrdom.
"But I told you that I must have those photographs. I meant it. I
shall have that information if I have to torture you until I get
it!"
"Go right ahead!" taunted the revolutionist; but his face was white.