“I awoke in my own bed. I have the word of Avis for what happened. She
says that when Lessman made his terrible offer to me that I stood for an
instant like a man too astounded for utterance. Suddenly I turned and
struck him squarely in the face. Meta screamed. Lessman, however, merely
dropped back a step and stretched forth his hand. I had my arm drawn back
to strike him again. I wavered, staggered for a second like a drunken
man, then my knees gave way under me and I fell forward on my face.
“That is all she knows. She was hurried back to her own room by Meta,
where she fell in a swoon.”
_CHAPTER VIII._
_A man suffering from amnesia has, upon his return to normal, no
recollection of what happened while he was in that condition. While I do
not say that I was amnestic in every sense of the word, yet my condition
must have resembled that peculiar malady to a certain degree. I can
positively state that I have absolutely no remembrance of the events
which are described below. Yet they are in my own handwriting in my
diary. My own idea of the subject is that I was in a sort of twilight
sleep, as it were—not completely under Lessman’s influence, yet partly
so. I give the contents of my diary just as they were written, venturing
the assertion, however, that they must have been put down several days
after the events of the previous chapter_:
“A strange thing has come to pass. The Bodymaster evidently bears me no
ill will, for last night Avis and I dined with him. Ordinarily, we are
fed like animals, the food served out to us by a deaf and dumb mulatto
who shoves the edibles through the bars to those who are too dangerous
to be allowed outside their cells, while such of us as Lessman evidently
considers harmless are occasionally permitted to dine at a long, bare
table in the hallway. Here we sit and wolf our food like swine, our only
thought being to fill our bellies quickly, lest the others get more than
their share of the meal.
“Imagine, then, my surprise last night when, an hour before time for
eating the mulatto brought to my room—for I am not yet confined to a
cell, probably because I am not yet stark mad—a dress suit. Everything
was there—even down to the studs. With it was a shaving outfit. Laying
the things carefully upon my cot, he handed me a note. It read:
“‘_Let us forget our troubles for tonight. Dine with me. I have
a surprise in store for you._
“‘_Lessman_’.”
“I was shaved and cleaned and feeling like a new man by the time the
dumb servant called for me. Following him down the stairs, I was ushered
into the large parlor. Lessman, in full dress, seized me by the hand and
greeted me warmly, while an instant later Meta, looking truly regal in an
elaborate décolleté, stood before me. But the real surprise came a minute
later.
“Avis was ushered in!
“Attired in some fancy gown—what man can describe a woman’s dress?—she
looked like an angel from heaven. I pinched myself to see whether I was
awake or dreaming. What object had the Bodymaster in this masquerade?
“How can I describe the dinner which followed? For weeks we had been
on a diet of little more than bread and soup. And now we sat down to a
feast. Lessman was the perfect host; Meta the perfect hostess. Under
their deft manipulations we forgot ourselves—forgot that they were
monsters—remembered only that we were honored guests. Never have I met as
charming a conversationalist as he. The man is a veritable storehouse of
knowledge, with the added ability of imparting it to others. He has been
everywhere, seen everything.
“He is far too subtle for me, for I have fallen a victim to his insidious
wiles. Yet it is for another that I have sold myself, body and soul, to
this monster.
“He knows that I love Avis. My every look shows it. And he is wise
enough to seize the golden opportunity. That is the reason for all these
courtesies, the dinner, the clothes, the brilliant conversation.
“Meta and Avis left the room, leaving Lessman and myself to our cigars.
For weeks I have been without the solace of nicotine. Under the soothing
influence of the weed and the charm of his conversation, I settled back
in my chair, at peace with all the world. Lessman sensed my mood. He
turned to me, his black eyes dancing with energy.
“‘You are the first who has ever been able to combat my power,’ he said
slowly. ‘And instead of being angered, I think the more of you for it.
I need you—need you badly. Without a man of your caliber my work—my
experiments—must temporarily halt.
“‘You love the golden-haired girl in yonder—and if I am not greatly
mistaken, she loves you. She is yours—yours if you agree to my demands.
Otherwise——’
“At a gesture the door opened. Into the room came the mulatto dragging
a woman—a mere slip of a girl. In her eyes shone the light of insanity.
Her hair was matted, her clothes in tatters and covered with vermin. Her
talonlike fingers worked spasmodically as she babbled meaninglessly. I
shrank back from her in horror.
“The Bodymaster stepped across the room and with a sweeping movement of
his hand, drew back the curtain. In the further corner of the adjoining
room sat Avis—a veritable queen among women, in conversation with Meta.
He withdrew his hand and the curtain fell again. He stepped back to his
chair and reseated himself. The mute withdrew, dragging the poor insane
creature with him.
“For a moment there was silence. Then Lessman turned to me again.
“‘Within a fortnight,’ he said, ‘she—the girl in yonder—the girl you
love—will be like _that_! I know the symptoms. Her mind is on the verge.
It is for you to say whether she goes over the abyss.
“‘Obey my commands, give me the assistance I demand, and the girl you
love stays as she is now—the companion of Meta. Luxury, clothes, good
food—everything that a woman cares for—will be hers. Refuse, and she goes
back to her cell—to the squalor and dirt and vermin from which came the
poor wretch you have just seen.
“‘You and you alone can save her!’
“He stopped dramatically. There was but one answer. May God in Heaven
have mercy on my soul! I have become Lessman’s partner in crime—an
accomplice of that foul thing, the Bodymaster—I who have sworn to bring
him to justice!
“But I have saved Avis.”
_CHAPTER IX._
_I judge that several weeks must have elapsed between the time the
foregoing was written and what follows_:
“What does mankind know about psychic phenomena? I remember reading
the attempts of various novelists to exploit the subject. Combining
a smattering of psychology with a vivid imagination, they succeed in
knocking together a readable, though unreliable, story, trusting to the
general lack of knowledge to cover their untruthfulness. And who can
blame them? Secure behind the ramparts of the grave’s grim silence, they
can defy the world to prove them wrong. Their weird hypotheses bring them
gold, power and position in the world of letters. And I—I, the only man
who ever sent his soul hurtling through the realms of space to explore
the mysteries of the great unknown—I must keep silent.
“The human mind refuses to believe what it does not understand. Were I to
make public what I _know_—even if it were possible—I would be derided,
held up to ridicule by press and public. For, despite our vaunted
civilization, we are still slaves to superstition and ignorance, ever
ready like those of old, to strike down one who dares utter the truth.
“Who among the millions on this globe would believe that I have spent
days—weeks—months—in the dim past? As a man looks upon a motion picture
of himself thrown upon the screen, so I have seen myself in the ages gone
by. In shining armor, a plumed lance in my hand, I have ridden with the
crusaders, or fought with the devil-may-care gallantry of the times for
the favor of a damsel’s smile. I have been the head of as bloody a gang
of cutthroats as ever slit a weasand or scuttled a craft.
“I smile when I think of the things that I have been—I who am now the
head of a modern detective agency, hired to run down the man whose
gigantic brain has made these things all possible. I have been among
the best and the worst of them in days gone by. Yet who would believe
such a story? Lessman is too far in advance of his time. Yet there is a
possibility that a few centuries hence some eye may read these lines and
wonder how the men of today could be so dense.
“I am no longer afraid of death. I know now that such fear is only a
superstitious idea. There is no such thing as death. That which we term
death is but a step from one life to another. Lessman has taught me
that life is a cycle and that when we leave it we enter into another
existence, better or worse than the one we are quitting in accordance
with our own actions.
“Lessman! Ah, there is the intellect! It is he who has made it possible
for me to view wonders which no man ever looked upon before. I wonder how
I could have doubted him.
“Lessman is a scientist—a thinker ahead of his time. Now that he has
shown me that there is no death I feel no compunction about taking life,
for by taking life we merely assist nature by a few years, leaving the
body for us to experiment on. He has promised me that some day he will
publish the results of his conclusions in order that the world may know
and study. When he does, I will occupy a star part on the pages. For it
is I who, at the command of Lessman, have explored the realms unknown,
bringing back to him the fruits of my knowledge.
“And I have met Avis again and again. I have found that she has been with
me through the ages—my loved one, my affinity. In every period of the
past she has accompanied me—just as she will in the future, until the
time comes where Divine Intelligence brings all things to an end.
“Let me start at the beginning. No more do I live in a cell-like room,
eating like an animal with the cattle whose brain power is not as great
as mine. With Avis by my side, I dine in state with Lessman and Meta.
“The next evening, immediately after dinner, The Bodymaster summoned
me to his library. He was anxious to commence his experiments. At the
beginning I was nervous, keyed up to the highest pitch, regretting the
bargain I had made with him. But within five minutes he had wrought a
change in my mind, and under the mastery of his words I soon reached a
point where I was as enthusiastic as he.
“Remember, I have dabbled in philosophy to a certain extent myself.
I took a degree at Princeton before I took up the business of crime
detection. But my knowledge is elementary compared with that of Lessman.
But I am getting away from my subject.
“Under the spell of his eloquence, I forgot that I was the servant and he
the master—that I was merely a prisoner, subservient to my jailor’s will.
For an hour we discussed the subject; I was as interested as he. There
is, he claims, no heights to which man can not climb, providing he so
wills. To him man is—or should be—absolutely the master of his own body
and soul.
“His is a mind that has reached on where others stopped. Hypnotism, to
him, is child’s play. Soul transference, the exchange of bodies—these are
the things that this man dabbles with. But he has his limit. He can go so
far and no farther.
“However, with my will submissive to his—with my mind attuned to his—he
believed that he could send me hurling through space. In other words, he
was to be the power station which would furnish me the energy to make the
voyages of exploration.
“I was like wet clay in his hands. With the enthusiasm of a youngster,
I gave myself over to him. Leaning back in my chair, at his command I
made my mind as nearly as possible an absolute vacuum. It was probably
but for an instant—but enough. There was none of the pain that I felt
before on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when my soul was divorced
from my body. Instead, I felt my soul—my mental being—leave my body. I
stood beside myself sitting there in the chair. There was no fear—nothing
except a feeling of buoyancy....”
_CHAPTER X._
_I must digress from my diary again._
As I have stated elsewhere, I have a recollection of certain things which
transpired while I was in Lessman’s power, although the greater part of
the time that I passed with him is but a blank.
There is nothing in my diary which touches upon my trips into the unknown
under his strange influence, aside from an occasional vague mention. I
am certain that the greater part of the time I was in a sort of daze,
imagining myself in a perfectly normal condition, yet held by The
Bodymaster in a state where I would respond immediately to his will.
Yet even now I can recall, vaguely, incidents which happened to me on
these trips. I remember meeting Avis on numerous occasions and under many
names. Had my adventures happened consecutively, and could I remember
them, they would be interesting food for thought for the men of science.
But, unfortunately, they jump here and there, the story, oft-times,
remaining unfinished.
There are so many, many adventures, the details of which I can not
recall, that I will make no attempt to set them down. Suffice to say that
all the time my brain was steadily growing weaker while I, poor dupe that
I was, imagined that I was again normal.
During my lucid intervals I was constantly troubled by a gnawing
conscience. Here was I, an officer of the law, lending myself to the
worst form of outlawry. I attempted to reconcile myself with the thought
that I was a prisoner, yet I was ever obsessed with the idea that I had
proved a traitor to myself and to my oath. My only recompense was the
feeling that by becoming a traitor I was saving the life and reason of
the woman I loved.
I wonder now why I did not kill Avis and then commit suicide. So great
was Lessman’s influence over me that I sincerely believed that death
was a myth. My own adventures beyond the pale had proved to me the
correctness of his theory. Why, then, I did not end it all is something
that can not be explained, especially when one recollects that from
my warped viewpoint death would have been the easiest solution of
the dilemma. My only explanation is that my mind was not functioning
properly. As I have remarked again and again the reader must form his
own conclusions, draw his own deductions, for I am dealing in facts, not
surmises.
Lessman allowed me the freedom, to a certain extent, of the house. With
Avis by my side, I wandered up and down the long, dusty corridors,
exploring, searching. I told myself that I was looking for evidence—that
sooner or later I would make my escape and bring The Bodymaster to
justice. And I found none—nothing but the poor wretches locked in their
cells, mad—all of them. And who would believe a maniac? No, there was
absolutely nothing that could be used against the monster. It would be my
word and that of Avis against that of Lessman and Meta. Such a case as
that would be laughed out of court.
Why did I not make my escape? I could not. I only know that with the door
wide open an invisible hand seemed to keep me from crossing the threshold.
_CHAPTER XI._
_Again I must resort to my diary_:
“I know now how the stranger was killed—the man for whose death John
Duncan is being held. Who the medium was through whom Lessman worked I do
not know. I imagine that it was Collins, the Chicago detective. I have
questioned him, and he does not remember anything about the affair, so
far gone is his mind. Yet he has a hazy recollection of having at one
time done Lessman’s bidding. Nor have I learned the name of the poor
fellow who met death in the heroic attempt to unmask The Bodymaster.
“The dean of Daggett College is dead—murdered! Another professor has
been arrested as the murderer. Lessman showed me the paper this morning,
chuckling over the gruesome details. There is absolutely no hope for
the poor wretch who has been seized by the police, for the evidence is
all against him. They will hang him, and the law will consider itself
satisfied. I laughed with Lessman at the newspaper account. Is he not
right when he states that both of them are merely being ushered into
paradise ahead of their time?
“I am certain that I killed Professor Ormsby!
“Years before he and Professor Jacobs had been teachers in the same
college where Lessman held a chair. To them Lessman, then a young man,
presented some of his astonishing theories. They turned upon him with
ridicule, rebuked him, and then reported him as a heretic to the head of
the university. It was their testimony which caused Lessman’s dismissal
in disgrace. He swore to get revenge.
“Two nights ago Lessman hurled my ego—my spirit—through space. I am
certain of it, although my memory is indistinct and is growing weaker
every hour. At his command I went to Ormsby’s apartments. Jacobs was
seated with his old friend engaged in a heated discussion, for both were
argumentative men.
“Before the eyes of Professor Jacobs, Dean Ormsby shrieked as an
invisible hand struck him down—then fell writhing to the floor, the
purple marks of fingers upon his throat.
“They arrested Jacobs for the murder. Others had heard them arguing.
Vainly he tried to tell them the truth—that the argument had been a
friendly one and that his friend had been killed by some unseen force.
“They scoffed at his story—for the marks of fingers showed too plainly
upon the dead man’s neck.”