I had a hot prospect lined up for a demonstration that morning, but I
didn't even stop to give him a ring. Vic and I had been buddies ever
since we were kids--and, besides, he was Hope's brother.
Vic's place was out on the river, about ten miles from town, and that
little tan roadster of mine made it in just about ten minutes. The
traffic in the business district slowed me up a bit.
There was nothing at all pretentious about the place; it was a rambling,
lazy-looking house built largely of native stone, stretching its length
comfortably in the shade of the big maples. Perrin, Vic's
man-of-all-work, came hurrying out of the house to greet me as I locked
my wheels on the drive before the door.
"I'm glad you're here, sir!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "I was just
about to phone for the police; I was for certain, sir. Such goings on, I
don't know what to think!"
"What's the matter, Perrin? Where's Mr. Butler?"
"That's it, sir! That's exactly it. Where's Mr. Butler? And--"
"Just a moment, please! Cut it short, Perrin. What's happened?"
* * * * *
"I don't know. Yesterday afternoon Mr. Butler leaves a letter for me,
which I'm to mail early this morning, special delivery. It's to you. I
reckon you got it, sir?"
"That's why I'm here. Go on."
"Well, after that, he locks himself up in his workroom, so Mrs. Perrin
says, she being housekeeper, as you know, sir, leaving word not to
disturb him for dinner.
"We don't think so much of that, Mr. Butler being took with streaks of
working at all hours, as you know. But when Miss Hope came home
unexpected this morning--"
"What?"
"She cut her visit a few days short, her aunt having other house guests
turn up unexpected like, and Miss Hope arrives first thing this morning,
being here when I return from town after mailing the letter to you, sir.
"Mrs. Perrin had just told her about the master, and Miss Hope looks
into his room. He isn't there, and the bed hasn't been slept in. 'The
poor dear,' she says, 'he's worked himself half to death, and dropped
off on that horrible cot he keeps in his laboratory,' says Miss Hope.
'I'll let him sleep.'
"But just a few minutes ago, just before you arrived, sir, she became
nervous like, and rapped on the door. There wasn't a sound. So she went
up to the master's room and found a key, and went in. And now _she_
don't answer, and we were just about ready to call the police!"
"Let's go inside!" I hurried by Perrin and through the cool, quiet hall
to the broad door that opened into the big room at the back of the
house, which was Vic's laboratory.
* * * * *
"Vic! Hope!" I pounded as hard as I could, shouting their names. There
was no response.
"Is there another key, Perrin?" I snapped.
"No, sir; none that I know of. The master was mighty fussy about his
workroom."
"Can we get in through the windows?"
"No. They're barred, if you remember rightly, and fitted with this
frosted glass, so you can't see in, even."
"Then get me an ax!" I commanded. "Quick!"
"An ax?" hesitated Perrin.
"An ax--and be quick about it!"
Perrin mumbled a protest and hurried away. I turned to Mrs. Perrin, who
had come up to determine the result of my shouting.
"How long is it since Miss Hope went in there?"
"How long, sir? I'd say about twenty minutes before you came. Maybe
twenty-five. I wasn't paying any particular attention, sir. She just got
the key and went in. After a few minutes I heard something buzzing in
there, and I thought maybe Mr. Butler was showing her some new gadget of
his, like he was always doing. Then there was a telephone call for him,
and I couldn't make neither of them answer; that's when Mr. Perrin and I
began to get worried."
"I see." Perrin came hurrying up with the ax, and I motioned them aside.
I swung the ax, and the head of the weapon crashed against the lock. The
knob dropped to the floor with a clatter, but the door gave not at all.
I brought the ax down again, and something cracked sharply. The third
blow sent the door swinging wide.
Cautiously, fearing I know not what, I entered the familiar room.
Nothing, apparently, had been disturbed. There was no sign of disorder
anywhere. The blankets on the narrow cot in the corner of the room had
not been unfolded.
But neither Vic nor Hope were anywhere in sight.
* * * * *
"You and Mrs. Perrin stay there by the door," I suggested. "I don't know
what's wrong here, but something's happened. There's no need for all of
us entering."
My second glance around the room was more deliberate. To my right were
the big generators and the switchboards, gleaming with copper bus-bar,
and intricate with their tortuous wiring. Directly before me was the
long work-bench that ran the full length of the room, littered with a
dozen set-ups for as many experiments. At my left was a sizable piece of
apparatus that was strange to me; on a small enameled table beside it
was a rather large sheet of paper, weighted down with a cracked Florence
flask.
In a sort of panic, I snatched up the paper. Vic had said in his note,
that he would leave another note for me here. This was it, for in a bold
scrawl at the top was my name. And in hardly decipherable script, below,
was his message:
Dear Pete:
First of all, let me say that you've no particular call to do
anything about this. If I'm in a jam, it's my own doing, and
due to my bull-headedness, of which you have so often reminded
me.
Knowing your dislike for science other than that related to
aeronautics, I'll cut this pretty short. It'll probably sound
crazy to you, anyway.
You know that there's sound above the frequencies to which the
human ear will respond. You know there are light rays that the
human eyes can't perceive. Some work I've been doing the last
five or six months indicates that there's a form of life about
us, all around us, which isn't perceptible to our
senses--which doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.
Well, I'm going to do a little exploring. I'm going to take a
whirl at what I'll call the Infra-Median existence. What I'll
find there, I don't know. Life of some kind, however, for my
experiments prove that. Possibly not friendly.
All this being so, there's an off chance that I'll find myself
tangled with something I can't anticipate. And if you are
called upon to read this, then something has gone wrong with
my plans.
Should you wish to take a flier after me, stand in the center
of the square outlined by the four uprights of the device
beside which this little table stands. Be sure your weapon--I
told you to bring a gat--is on your person.
There's a small instrument board set on one of the posts. Turn
the upper of the two dials until the hand of the meter beside
it moves up to 2700 exactly. Wait a moment, until you're sure
you have the exact reading. Then turn the second dial until
the two red lines coincide, and as you do so, mark the time.
The thing is set to operate the reverse cycle at three-hour
intervals exactly. When you come down, you'll start a new
cycle, and it might be important for us to know at just what
minute we can get back to our own plane.
If you decide to try it, tell Perrin to do nothing for at
least a week. If the law started experimenting on this
equipment, we never could climb back. And leave word with them
for Hope; tell her I'll scramble out somehow--that _we_ will,
if you decide to try your luck.