By the next morning the entire civilized world knew of the strange
and threatening communication from the self-styled “dictator of human
destiny.”
The members of the scientific congress had sought to keep the matter
secret, but all the larger wireless stations of North America had picked
up the message, and thence it found its way into the newspapers.
Ordinarily, such a communication would have attracted nothing more
than laughter, as a harmless prank; but the increasing menace of the
earthquakes had wrought a state of nervous tension that was ready to
clothe the whole affair with sinister significance.
It was an alarmed and hysterical public that gathered in the streets
of all the great cities soon after daylight. One question was on every
tongue:
Who was this mysterious “KWO,” and was his message actually a momentous
declaration to the human race, or merely a hoax perpetrated by some
person with an overly vivid imagination?
Even the signature to the communication was such as to arouse curiosity.
Was it a name? Or a combination of initials? Or a title, like “Rex,”
signifying king? Or a nom de plume? Or the name of a place?
No one could say.
Anyone capable of discovering the secrets of the earth’s internal forces,
and harnessing those forces for his own ends, unquestionably was the most
wonderful scientist the world had ever seen; but, though every important
nation of the globe was represented at the scientific congress in
Washington, not one of those representatives had ever heard of successful
experiments along this line, or knew any prominent scientist named KWO,
or one possessing initials that would make up that word. The name sounded
Oriental, but certainly no country of the Orient had produced a scientist
of sufficient genius to accomplish this miracle.
It was a problem concerning which the best-informed persons knew no more
than the most untutored child, but one which was of paramount importance
to the group of savants assembled in Washington. Until more light could
be shed on this subject they were powerless to form any conclusions.
Accordingly, their first effort was to get into further communication
with their unknown correspondent.
All through the night the operator at the naval observatory’s wireless
plant in Washington sat at his key, calling over and over again the three
letters that constituted mankind’s only knowledge of its adversary:
“KWO—KWO—KWO!”
But there was no answer. Absolute silence enveloped the menacing power.
“KWO” had spoken. He would not speak again. And after twelve hours even
the most persistent members of the scientific body—who had remained
constantly in the wireless room throughout the night—reluctantly desisted
from further attempts at communication.
Even this failure found its way into the newspapers and helped to divide
public opinion. Many persons and influential papers insisted that “KWO’S”
threat was nothing more than a hoax. Others, however, were inclined to
accept the message as the serious declaration of a human being with
practically supernatural powers. In advancing this opinion they were
supported by the undeniable fact that from the time the mysterious
“KWO” began his efforts to communicate with the head of the scientific
congress, until his message had been completed, the strange wireless
signals accompanying the earth tremors had ceased entirely—a thing that
had not happened before. When he was through speaking, the signals
had resumed their clocklike recurrence. It was as if some power had
deliberately cleared the ether for the transmission of this proclamation
to mankind.
A feeling of dread—of monstrous uncertainty—hung over everyone and
increased as the day wore on. Ordinary affairs were neglected, while the
crowds in public places steadily increased.
By nightfall of Thursday even the loudest scoffers at the genuineness
of the “dictator’s” threat began to display symptoms of the general
uneasiness.
Would the earthquakes begin to subside at midnight?
Upon the answer to this question hung the fate of the world.
It was an exceedingly hot night in most parts of the United States.
Scarcely anywhere was a breath of air stirring; the whole country was
blanketed by a suffocating wave of humidity. Low clouds that presaged
rain—but never brought it—added to the general feeling of apprehension.
It was as if all nature had conspired to furnish a dramatic setting for
the events about to be enacted.
As midnight drew near the excitement became intense. In Europe, as
well as in America, vast throngs filled the streets in front of the
newspaper offices, watching the bulletin boards. The Consolidated News
Syndicate had arranged special radio service from various scientific
institutions—notably the Washington naval observatory, where savants were
watching the delicate instruments for recording earth shocks—and any
variation or subsidence in the tremors would be flashed to newspapers
everywhere.
When the hands of the clocks reached a point equivalent to two minutes of
midnight, Washington time, a vast hush fell upon the assembled thousands.
The very atmosphere became aquiver with suspense.
But if the scene in the streets was exciting, that within the instrument
room of the United States naval observatory, where the members of the
international scientific congress waited was dramatic beyond description.
About the room sat the scientists and a couple of representatives from
the Consolidated News. Professor Whiteman himself was stationed at the
seismographs, while at his elbow sat Professor James Frisby, in direct
telephone communication with the wireless operator in another part of the
grounds.
The light was shaded and dim. The heat was stifling. Not a word was
spoken. Scarcely a muscle moved. All were painfully alert.
Every eleven minutes and six seconds the building was shaken by a
subterranean shock. The windows rattled. The floor creaked. Even the
chairs seemed to lift and heave. It had been that way for weeks. But
would this night see the end?
With maddening slowness, the hands of the big clock on the wall—its face
illuminated by a tiny electric lamp—drew toward the hour of twelve.
Suddenly there came one of the earthquakes, that, while no different from
its predecessors, heightened the tension like the crack of a whip.
All eyes flew to the timepiece. It registered thirty-four seconds past
11:49 o’clock.
Therefore, the next tremor would occur at precisely forty seconds after
midnight.
If the unknown “KWO” were an actual being, and kept his word—at that time
the shocks would begin to subside!
The suspense became terrible. The faces of the scientists were drawn and
pale. Beads of perspiration stood out on every brow. The minutes passed.
The electric correcting-device on the clock gave a sharp _click_,
denoting midnight. Forty seconds more! The suffocating atmosphere seemed
almost to turn cold under the pressure of anxiety.
Then, almost before anyone could realize it, the earthquake had come and
gone! And not one particle of diminution in its violence had been felt!
A sigh of relief involuntarily passed around the room. Few moved or
spoke, but there was a lessening of the strain on many faces. It was too
soon yet, of course, to be sure, but—in most hearts there began to dawn a
faint ray of hope that, after all, this “dictator of human destiny” might
be a myth.
But suddenly Professor Frisby raised his hand to command quiet, and bent
more intently over his telephone.
A short silence followed. Then he turned to the gentlemen and announced
in a voice that seemed curiously dry:
“The operator reports that no wireless signal accompanied this last
earthquake.”
Again the nerve tension in the assembly leaped like an electric spark.
Several more minutes passed in silence.
Then came another quake.
Had there been a decrease in its force? Opinion was divided.
All eyes sped to Professor Whiteman, but he remained absorbed at his
seismographs.
In this silence and keen suspense eleven minutes and six seconds again
dragged by. Another earthquake came and went. Once more Professor Frisby
announced that there had been no wireless signal attending the tremor.
The savants began to settle themselves for a further wait, when—
Professor Whiteman left his instrument and came slowly forward. In the
dim light his face looked lined and gray. Before the rows of seats he
stopped and faltered a moment. Then he said:
“_Gentlemen, the earthquakes are beginning to subside!_”
For a moment the scientists sat as if stunned. Everyone was too appalled
to speak or move. Then the tension was broken by the rush of the
Consolidated News men from the room to get their momentous tidings out to
the world.
After that the ground shocks died out with increasing rapidity. In an
hour they had ceased entirely, and the tortured planet once more was
still.
But the tumult among the people had only started!
With a sudden shock the globe’s inhabitants realized that they were in
the grip of an unknown being endowed with supernatural power. Whether
he were man or demi-god, sane or mad, well disposed or malignant—no one
could guess. Where was his dwelling place, whence the source of his
power, what would be the first manifestation of his authority, or how far
would he seek to enforce his control? Only time could answer.
As this situation dawned upon men, their fears burst all bounds. Frantic
excitement took possession of the throngs.
Only at the naval observatory in Washington was there calmness and
restraint. The gathering of scientists spent the night in earnest
deliberation of the course to be followed.
Finally it was decided that nothing should be done for the present; they
would merely await events. When it had suited the mysterious “KWO” to
announce himself to the world he had done so. Thereafter, communication
with him had been impossible. Doubtless when he was ready to speak again
he would break his silence—not before. It was reasonable to suppose that,
now he had proved his power, he would not be long in stating his wishes
or commands.
Events soon showed this surmise was correct.
Promptly at noon the next day—there having in the meantime been no
recurrence of the earthquakes or electrical disturbances of the ether—the
wireless at the naval observatory again received the mysterious call for
the presiding officer of the scientific congress.
Professor Whiteman had remained at the observatory, in anticipation of
such a summons, and soon he, with other leading members of the scientific
assembly, was at the side of the operator in the wireless room.
Almost immediately after the call:
“KWO—KWO—KWO!”
went forth into the ether, there came a response and the operator started
writing:
“_To the Presiding officer of the International Scientific
Congress_:
“_Communicate this to the various governments of the earth_:
“_As a preliminary to the establishment of my sole rule
throughout the world, the following demands must be complied
with_:
“_First: All standing armies shall be disbanded, and every
implement of warfare, of whatsoever nature, destroyed._
“_Second: All war vessels shall be assembled—those of the
Atlantic fleets midway between New York and Gibraltar, those
of the Pacific fleets midway between San Francisco and
Honolulu—and sunk._
“_Third: One-half of all the monetary gold supply of the world
shall be collected and turned over to my agents at places to be
announced later._
“_Fourth: At noon on the third day after the foregoing demands
have been complied with, all the existing governments shall
resign and surrender their powers to my agents, who will be on
hand to receive them._
“_In my next communication I will fix the date for the
fulfillment of these demands._
“_The alternative is the destruction of the globe._
“_KWO._”
It was on the evening of this eventful day that Dr. Gresham and I
returned from Labrador. A little after 10 o’clock we landed in New York
and, taking a taxicab at the pier, started for our bachelor quarters in
apartments near each other west of Central Park.
As we reached the center of town we were amazed at the excited crowds
that filled the streets and at the prodigious din raised by newsboys
selling extras.
We stopped the car and bought papers. Huge black headings told the story
at a glance. Also, at the bottom of the first page, we found a brief
chronological summary of all that had happened, from the very beginning
of the mysterious wireless signals three months before. We scanned it
eagerly.
When I finished the newspaper article I turned to my companion—and was
struck with horror at the change in his appearance!
He was crumpled down upon the seat of the taxi, and his face had taken
on a ghastly hue. At first I though he had suffered a stroke. Only
his eyes held a sign of life, and they seemed fixed on something far
away—something too terrifying to be a part of the world around us.
Seizing him by the shoulders, I tried to arouse him, exclaiming:
“For heaven’s sake! What is the matter?”
My words had no effect, so I shook him roughly.
Then he slowly began to come to his senses. His lips moved, without any
sound passing them. But presently he found voice to murmur, as if talking
in his sleep:
“It has come! The Seuen-H’sin—_the terrible Seuen-H’sin_!”
An instant later, with a great effort, he drew himself together and spoke
sharply to the chauffeur:
“Quick! Never mind those addresses we gave you! Rush us to the Grand
Central Station! _Hurry!_”
As the car suddenly swerved into a side street, I turned to the doctor.
“What’s the matter? Where are you going?” I asked.
“To Washington!” he snapped, in reply to my second question. “As fast as
we can get there!”
“In connection with this earthquake terror?” I inquired.
“Yes!” he told me; “for—”
There was a pause, and then he finished in a strange, awed voice:
“What the world has seen of this devil ‘KWO’ is only the faintest
prelude to what may come—events so terrible, so utterly opposed to all
human experience, that they would stagger the imagination! _This is the
beginning of the dissolution of our planet!_”
_CHAPTER III._