THE GREAT MYSTERY
The staff at the Observatory consisted of three men of science with
their servants. They were elderly men who had devoted their lives
to the study of the heavens in this region of awful isolation and
loneliness--the highest spot by far in the whole planet. Melanitis had
been there several times, but Mexitli only upon one former occasion.
Both the princesses spoke the kindest words of greeting to the brave
colony of scientific recluses, and introduced the visitors from earth.
But though the Professor and his two companions were wonderfully
struck with the grandeur of the mountain and the incomparable view,
they quickly saw that there was little astronomical knowledge for
them to learn that they did not already know from the more favourable
view-point of their own world.
Radcliffe was also greatly astonished to find that the Atalantan
knowledge of the earth extended only to its larger physical
outlines--the continents, peninsulas, and islands; but they scarcely
knew more of the earth than we do of Mars, and not nearly as much as
we know of the moon. The earth was a far lovelier object in the sky of
Venus, from Aptaura, than Venus is in our sky, but it was an almost
impossible task for any Atalantan, unless helped by the palace, to get
there to see it. In fact, Malchon supported his astronomers out of his
own private liberality, and men of learning assisted him in so doing.
Many weeks would be required for study and observations before any
solid results could be attained, and Mercury was far more easily
observed from the lighted hemisphere.
Mexitli therefore declared that she could not stay more than one night,
and she contented herself with viewing the heavens from the interior
of the Asteroid; the cold of open-air research was appalling, and she
naturally avoided it. The next day they re-entered the region of light,
Melanitis promising that Radcliffe should come with her to the summit
another time.
They landed at the southern end of the continent, and put up for a day
or two at the castellated house overlooking the glorious sea, along
the shore of which they had several excursions. Recreation of the most
bracing type was to be obtained here.
But an astounding event was at hand.
The owner of the house was a brave and hardy landowner named Carminon,
who, with his wife Mexilla, were great favourites of the court, to
whose couriers they had rendered many a service. They had saved the
lives of more than one occupant of a damaged or storm-tossed airship.
On the last evening of their stay Mexilla expressed a wish to hear
some of the melodies of Karamandra, and Radcliffe sang several hymns
in English, and Abercromby gave them a taste of patriotic songs. But
Mexilla wanted a Karamandran love song, and would not be put off with
anything else.
“Come, old man, you must fire away,” said Abercromby; “you have not to
preach to-morrow, so you won’t mind getting a trifle hoarse.”
Radcliffe used to sing in earlier days an old-world song called
“Solitude,” which had been quite the rage in its time, though long
superseded by a different style; so he began--
“It is not that my lot is low
That makes the silent tears to flow,
It is not grief that makes me mourn,
I weep that I am all alone.
The woods and winds with sullen wail
Tell out the same unvarying tale.
“I would not be a leaf to die
With none to think nor care for me,
Yet in my dreams a form I view
That thinks on me and loves me too.
I start--but then the vision’s flown;
I wake--and I am all alone!”
Radcliffe rather wailed than sang the last lines. Mexilla, though not
understanding the words, was intensely moved, and even Mexitli turned
away her head to hide her feelings.
But upon Melanitis the song had a deeper and a more poignant
effect--she started to her feet, advanced a step towards him, and sank
in a collapsed heap upon the floor.
“What have I done!” he cried in alarm and distraction.
“It is but a faintness, do not be distressed,” said Mexitli calmly, and
raising Melanitis she, with the aid of Abercromby, carried her from the
room. Some anxious time elapsed, and then Abercromby re-entered.
“Come quickly to the Asteroid,” he said. “Melanitis is all right, but I
must have a very serious talk with you, the most serious we have ever
had.”
Abercromby led the way to the dining-room, which they had all to
themselves.
“Now, Clarence,” he said, “pull yourself together and be calm. Answer
me truly and clearly--is your heart loyal to the memory of your wife,
or have you succumbed to a later influence?”
“Absolutely loyal unto death, and beyond it to the Mansions of the
Blest,” he answered.
“Then you do not desire to marry Melanitis?”
“Never; my love for her deepens, but it never overtakes the love for
her that is gone, for that also grows fonder and fonder.”
“Very good. This will simplify matters much. By the by, you could _not_
have married Melanitis had you wished.”
“Why?”
“Because you are married already.”
“I _was_.”
“You _are_.”
Radcliffe stared at Abercromby in dazed astonishment.
Abercromby went on: “Suppose your love for your wife had faded, you
could only have married again when she was dead.”
“She _is_ dead,” said Radcliffe.
“She is _not_ dead.”
The words rang out like a clarion note.
“What madness is this? I saw the inquest on her dead body rescued
from the Welsh river. I accompanied the poor remains to the little
churchyard under the Cotswolds. My own voice (how I did it God only
knows) read the service over her to save her stricken father. And now
you tell me she is alive!”
“It is true,” answered Abercromby.
“Where?” scornfully.
“In Atalanta. Melanitis will restore her to you in ten days, perhaps
less.”
“You are fooling, Abercromby.”
“I love you too well for that.”
“Then there has been sorcery and witchcraft.”
“None whatever; no such arts are practised here. You speculated truly
the other day that the devil is limited to our own luckless planet.”
“Have the Atalantans visited the earth in one of their machines?”
“They lack the means of setting it going. The motive force is not
existent in Venus.”
“Have they stolen the Asteroid?”
“They would not have known how to steer it beyond their own atmosphere.”
“Am I to see her in the spirit or in the flesh?”
“In the flesh.”
“Is she changed?”
“Well, yes! But forgive me if I say that _I_ consider she is changed
for the better.”
“Do you know how it has been done?”
“Perfectly.”
“Who told you?”
“I found it out for myself.”
“As you hope for salvation at the last, will you pledge me that you are
speaking the truth?”
“Absolutely, literally, entirely.”
Radcliffe was staggered.
“Scepticism dies hard in a despairing breast,” he went on. “Can you
give me any tangible proof beyond your own word? Excuse me, Frank, my
all is at stake.”
“Yes! I can give you one proof at any rate. How came the knowledge of
the English alphabet to Atalanta?”
“Jackson told us he was hypnotised.”
“Nonsense! Jackson thinks so, but I know better. _Your wife wrote out
that paper with her own hands._ Jackson was put to sleep, or rather
tempted to put himself to sleep by going too deeply into his cups. But
this was done to rob the machine, not to study English. Your wife wrote
the paper in a disguised hand.”
“How do you know that?”
“_Because she told me so herself._”
Again Radcliffe fairly winced, like a man receiving a blow.
“Have you had intercourse and converse with her all the time you have
been in Atalanta?”
“Certainly not, considering I was in gaol.”
“When did you first do so?”
“After that row in Parmenton’s house--quite recently therefore.”
“Where did you see her?”
“In the palace.”
“Does Melanitis know her?”
“Intimately.”
“She hates her, of course?”
“On the contrary, she has a very good opinion of her.”
“Does Mexitli know of all this?”
“Fully, and is very pleased.”
“It is stupendous,” said Radcliffe. “Can you tell me what the Professor
thinks?”
“That you made an ass of yourself this evening. Further than this he
knows nothing. He is even more nonplussed than you are.”
“You _can_ tell me the whole secret, I suppose?”
“I could, but I shan’t.”
“Because of Melanitis?”
“No, because of the King. Your only peril lies there. But the worst
that can happen is this--that you and your wife may be packed off back
to the earth. If you are, I will remain to carry on your work.”
“What!”
“Nothing more nor less.”
“Once more, I beseech you to tell me.”
“I _dare_ not and I _ought_ not, and therefore I _will_ not; you _can_
wait ten days, man!”
At that moment Minola appeared, and said: “Your excellencies are
summoned to attend upon the Lady Mexitli; she is in sore distress.”
Abercromby started. “Well, Clarence, it _may_ be that the mine is to
be exploded now; if so, better perhaps for you. But muster all your
courage and prepare for a stunning shock.”
Radcliffe drew himself up. “Can you tell me what has happened?” he said
to Minola.
“I may not answer questions, though I would gladly if I might,” she
replied.
At that moment they reached the door of the house. Mexilla was
supporting both the princesses, who were in a state of indescribable
agitation. Carmichael was calm, but his face wore a very stern
expression.
“Ladies, we crave permission to know what is the matter,” said
Radcliffe.
“Atalanta is in revolt,” said Mexitli. “The priest party, aided by the
traitors Parmenton, Mauro, and Medon, have surrounded the palace. All
is lost.”
“No, that shall never be,” said Radcliffe. “We will put all our power
at your disposal, display the scarlet banner and fight under it by your
side.”
“By George! I thought he was a missionary!” said Abercromby. “But no
matter, I shall not mind a fight, if it comes to that.”
“Will you stand by us?” asked Mexitli.
“Unto death,” said Radcliffe.
“If we win, you shall be the highest noble in Atalanta,” she cried. “I
will give to your companions an absolute pardon, and raise them all to
the ranks of my nobility.”
A cheer broke from the Atalantans present; such a scene of enthusiasm
followed as was rarely witnessed on Venus. Melanitis kept very much
in the background, though she spoke kind words to each and all, but
Mexitli went and shook hands with every one, even with the Professor
and Abercromby, a thing she had never done before.
Orders were given to start at once. Carmichael, who was dead-tired, had
to make a rush for the conning-tower.
“We are in for a regular deuce of a row,” said Abercromby. “I have seen
it coming for a long time. It will clear the air, at all events. I want
a good square talk with you, Professor.”
“Then you can’t have it. I have to run this machine at breakneck speed
back to Atalanta, and heaven only knows what will happen to us when we
get there.”
The princess sent an imperious message that the Professor must give
up his steering-seat to Minola and come and take part in her council.
This he flatly refused to do, at which Mexitli took great offence,
threatening that “under these circumstances to disobey was death.” “We
shall all die by breaking our necks if that girl takes the steering;
she is totally unused to it.” Minola looked very resentful, and even
laid her hand upon her weapon; but Radcliffe quieted her by soothing
words, and, after some trouble, Mexitli owned that perhaps it was
better that this particular machine should be steered by those who had
made it.
Abercromby whispered to Radcliffe, “Your affair is not on just now, old
man; perhaps it is as well. We must settle old Lydon’s bother first,
then your turn shall come.”
The council was harmonious enough, for Mexitli did all, or nearly all,
of the talking. She decided that they must make a forced flight to
Atalanta and observe from the air all that was going on.
Not even Radcliffe could induce her to tell them how the trouble had
begun; this she was resolved to keep to herself. All they learned was
that the rebels had got possession of the lower part of the city, had
burned Mayana’s mansion to the ground, and had then surrounded the
palace hill. All the adherents of the priesthood of the Sun had taken
up arms, and they had been joined by a large number of the lowest of
the populace. The rebels had resolved on a complete revolution, both in
the religious and in the social life of Atalanta.
* * * * *
The restless energy of Mexitli disdained to take any repose. The
Professor grumbled that if the devil had been at their heels they could
not have gone very much faster, but, as Abercromby remarked, since
Radcliffe had ruled him out of all possession in Venus, it was the
princess who would have to drive them instead.