THE CHIEF CHEMIST
1
There came a change in the form of the staircase. A rather low arch
intruded. Beyond, I saw that the steps were narrower; that the spiral
which they described was smaller. I consulted memories of Felsenweir
based upon my study of the castle from the Devil’s Elbow. Thus far, I
reasoned, I had really climbed no higher than the top of the great
keep.
This was the base of the watch tower. I passed the arch. The steps now
were much hollowed, the masonry of the walls was crumbling with age.
I paused.
An iron gate checked further progress.
Immediately beyond this gate a section of stairway had collapsed. A
black pit of unknown depth yawned before me and a draught of cold,
clammy air swept up through the warmth of the passage. On the farther
brink of the chasm, and about on a level with my eyes, the steps
continued again, disappearing around a bend.
But--and I realized that it was an astounding phenomenon--they
disappeared into darkness!
Sharply defined on the first step lay a shadow of the iron grille, an
outline of the arched passage. In other words, artificial sunlight
ended at the gate.…
Clutching the bars, I stared, with a shiver of apprehension, down into
the pit. I turned, and looked behind me. What was I expected to do
now?
This problem was quickly solved.
A section of seemingly solid wall immediately before me opened
silently. It was a masked door. I saw a short corridor, dimly lighted
in contrast to that synthetic sunlight on the staircase. Obviously
this corridor was new, composed of, or faced with, the same kind of
stonework as the great hall below.
At the end, on the right, there was an opening. Upon the bluish
illumination of the corridor a light which I judged to be green shone
out, forming a square patch on the left-hand wall.
A pace beyond the masked door stood a gigantic black-armoured figure,
motionless, inhuman, its huge mace grounded upon the pavement. I
wondered, doubted, but knew that my fate was not in my own hands.
Then:
“I wish you to inspect the laboratory, Woodville. Dr. Nestor is
expecting you.”
The Voice!
Teeth tightly clenched, I passed the guardian figure, walked on, and
found myself looking into a large room in which subdued green light
prevailed. It was a wonderfully equipped laboratory.
A man in white overalls awaited me. He was slim and of medium height;
pallid. He wore a very small moustache, and jet-black hair grew low
upon his cheekbones. Seen through the lenses of tortoiseshell-rimmed
spectacles, his dark eyes were very cruel. A Greek, I thought.
“Ah, Mr. Woodville,” he said, and smiled unpleasantly. “My name is
Nestor. I’m the second chemist here and my instructions are to show
you around the laboratory. The chief chemist will be along any moment.
Please come right in.”
The world’s greater universities endow their inmates with certain
peculiarities of accent sometimes amounting to a dialect. I had no
difficulty in placing this man. Dr. Nestor was a graduate of Harvard.
I went in. I resigned myself to what I recognized to be inevitable.
Anger, violence were alike uncalled for. I must accept, and endeavour
to behave normally.
“It would probably interest you,” the second chemist continued, “to
see one of our more simple devices. It has a certain personal
interest.”
He spoke perfect Harvard, but my first theory that he was of Greek
parentage remained unshaken.
“Please avoid touching things. Some of them are very delicate; some,
very dangerous. If you will come this way…”
I followed him through such a maze of scientific paraphernalia as
surely never before had been assembled. By the farther wall of the
place he paused, pointing to a sort of square desk, the top of which
was covered with what appeared to be ground glass. A foot or so above
it a peculiarly shaped lamp was suspended.
“I can’t offer you a cigar,” he went on, “as smoking isn’t allowed
here; but”--he held out a packet of chewing gum--“this is a fair
substitute.… No? Well, you won’t mind if I do?”
He stripped a slip of gum and placed it between his teeth.
“Now, sir, I will explain why you experienced such difficulty in
exploring the woods below Felsenweir. This, you see, is a map of the
territory.”
He touched a button. Upon the glazed surface appeared a delicately
outlined map.
“These red dots”--he indicated them--“mark the highroad surrounding
the grounds of the castle. Of course, you remember the highroad? Now
these, Mr. Woodville, are the three zones.”
He manipulated a switchboard. A shimmering, changing wave of violet
light sprang up within the dotted line which marked the highroad.
“The third zone.”
An inner, irregular circle of violet light appeared upon the map.
“The second zone--to which you so nearly penetrated.”
A third wave of light appeared surrounding the ground plan of the
castle.
“The first zone.”
I was silent.
“These are _sound waves_, Mr. Woodville. The Master, if he wishes,
will give you further particulars. But these barrages consist of zones
of sound, tuned to so high a key as to be inaudible but instantly
fatal to animal life. If you’ll notice”--the second zone disappeared
in response to some manipulation--“they can be put down or raised at
will. So, as you must realize, not all Hindenburg’s shock troops could
reach us! Felsenweir survived five sieges in mediæval times. To-day,
notwithstanding air power, artillery development, and modern tactics,
it’s impregnable as ever.”
The zones disappeared. The map disappeared.
“I’m further instructed,” my unpleasant guide continued, “to explain
to you the death of the man Hans Pfal. He died in your friend’s car on
the way back to Baden. Will you please follow me very carefully. There
are several danger spots in this part of the laboratory.”
He moved away, chewing industriously; and I followed. The floor was
slippery, being composed of what looked like green glass. The walls
also were green and glistening; the ceiling was dull gray. Right and
left of the path along which he led me stood glass tables bearing
incomprehensible apparatus.
I shrank from touching anything, following my white-clad guide, who
wore rubber-soled shoes, as one follows the light of salvation.
We passed from one end to the other of the lofty, silent room.
Dr. Nestor stopped before a sort of gigantic index which occupied
nearly the whole of one wall. It consisted of hundreds of columns of
figures, running from tens into thousands, irregularly arranged. In
some respects it resembled the time table of trains used at railway
termini. At its base was set a long, shallow desk.
“Here,” said Dr. Nestor, smiling, “are the Brothers of Anubis--each
bearing a number.”
He pulled back a white sleeve, revealing a disk chained to his arm. I
saw it to be identical with that worn by the man who had died in Max’s
car.
“363,” he explained, “is my own number.”
Reversing the disk, he glanced at me. It bore an Egyptian figure which
I recognized.
“Only the first grade of initiates understand the significance of
these amulets, or badges, which every member of the order must wear--I
may add, under penalty of death. As a matter of fact, they’re tuned in
to this keyboard. Distance doesn’t count. Melbourne’s as near as
Berlin. I’ll show you what I mean and then you can draw your own
conclusions as to how Hans Pfal died.”
He moved one of many levers upon the desk. A round spot of white light
mounted a column of figures. Immediately over a number it stopped.
“Note!” said the demonstrator--“my own number: 363!”
Again he displayed the disk upon his wrist.
“It’s only necessary now, Mr. Woodville, to move a certain switch and
I should die instantly and painlessly. Nor would my body bear any mark
of violence. This was how Hans Pfal died. And this, you see, is how we
assure secrecy.”
He reversed the lever. The spot of light descended and disappeared.
“You’re surely privileged,” Dr. Nestor declared. “Only chosen members
of the order are ever admitted to this laboratory.”
The queer, X-ray light of the place faltered momentarily.
“Chief chemist!” Nestor exclaimed. “This ends my watch, Mr. Woodville.
I now go to change. Don’t think I’m discourteous: I’m just obeying
orders. The Chief will be with you in a moment. Stay right where you
are… and don’t touch anything! Good-bye, sir!”
I watched Dr. Nestor’s white-clad figure receding among mazes of
apparatus. He walked silently.
Came an interval. It was ended by a sound which I knew--that of an
ascending elevator. I turned. Right at my elbow, beside the huge
indicator, a panel opened.
Mme. Yburg stepped out!
2
Moments come in everybody’s life which, because they are so numbing,
leave no definite impression whatever. This was one of them.
I saw that she wore a long white jacket of the kind affected by
surgeons. Beneath it, her silk-clad legs struck an incongruous note.
But I observed, my first shock of amazement over, that she had
substituted rubber-soled slippers for the chic shoes which I
associated with those slim, delicately arched feet.
“You look frightfully surprised!”
She was regarding me amusedly. The elevator panel had closed, the
whine had died away.
“I am!”
“Why? Your brilliant friend, Mr. Lonergan, has told you of my
association with the Hartford mystery. And that fascinating Frenchman,
Gaston Max, assured you, did he not, that I was in the Pyrenees on a
certain occasion? You must surely know I am a woman with a mission!”
She was mocking me--or so I thought; holding her head proudly erect
and watching, under half-lowered lids, with those calm, slightly
oblique eyes. One slender, psychic hand rested on her hip.…
It fascinated me--that hand. I found myself wondering why it was so
white, and not sunburned… the poise of the body, the pose of the head…
She smiled, a red-lipped smile which at once irritated and caressed.
“Well? What are you thinking about? You say nothing.”
“I’m thinking about Apollonius of Tyana.” She ceased to smile. “That
great philosopher declared that ‘loquacity has many pitfalls--but
silence, none.’”
Her level gaze caught and held my own.
“You are not so clever as John Lonergan,” she said quietly, “and you
have none of the subtlety of Gaston Max. But although I never liked
the English, I think I like _you_.”
“A somewhat equivocal compliment!”
Mme. Yburg laughed outright. She pressed her hand lightly on my
shoulder and as lightly withdrew it.
“Anubis never makes mistakes. I understand why, of three, he has
selected _you_ to make the choice.”
“But I want to know----”
She checked me.
“Kindly ask no questions which I’m unable to answer. Ask any you like
about the laboratory.”
Her calm eyes held an unspoken warning.
“Sorry,” I returned.
I forced myself back to a state of passivity. I washed my hands of
speculations, and determined from now on to behave like a visitor
being shown around an explosive factory. The feat was one of mental
acrobatics. But I achieved it.
“Very well. I’ve had personal and unpleasant experience of the sound
zones. Their principle defeats me. But I’m curious to know how an
intruder is spotted. I ask for this reason: Your third barrage or zone
wasn’t laid down when Lonergan and myself recently penetrated to the
woods. You trapped us with it. How did you know we were there?”
Mme. Yburg smiled again.
“I can explain very easily, my friend. Follow me closely. Touch
nothing. Be careful.”
Her solicitude was real. In this it differed from the sentiments of
Dr. Nestor. Plainly, the latter disliked me. Yet, whilst I recognized
Mme. Yburg’s friendship, I knew unmistakably that sex had no place in
it. All the time she was weighing me up, calmly. I wondered why.
Following her, fearful of stumbling on the slippery floor, of brushing
against any one of the strange mechanisms right and left, I watched
the lithe, swaying figure and tried in vain to pin down a memory which
taunted me.…
She led me through intricate ways to a place roughly centre of the
laboratory, where a magnified green lampshade overhung a low, circular
table. The top was covered with that same sort of opaque glass upon
which I had seen the map of the sound zones.
Some change was made in the lighting. I gave a start of amazement.
As if from an airplane, I looked down upon the castle of Felsenweir!
I saw the woods which hemmed it in, the old military road winding
through them. Every detail was sharp, clear, as if bathed in sunlight.
I saw other roads surrounding the crag; the very spot at which I had
been captured by that nude inhuman Thing! I saw the path down to the
abandoned village.…
“Whoever is on duty here is responsible, you see. I don’t know if Dr.
Nestor showed you the insulated path?… Well, there _is_ such a path
through all three barrages. Hans Pfal, returning from the town, meant
to use this. But our clever French friend overpowered him.…
“This mechanism operates in moonlight also. Dr. Nestor saw John
Lonergan and yourself enter the woods. He was on duty at the time. He
laid down the second barrage. Then the third.
“Frankly, you defeated us on that occasion. Dr. Nestor is frightfully
sore!… Pfal, by the way, was one of our engine room staff. By the time
communication was established with Anubis, other measures were
useless. He ordered the poor Pfal to be silenced. Look! There’s a man
driving a cart along the highroad.”
I looked. Crystal clear, I saw the horse, the vehicle, the driver,
moving along a road below the castle. I judged it all of a mile
distant.
That wondrous panorama vanished. The green light in the laboratory
flickered--and became steady again.
“Anubis is ready to see you,” said Mme. Yburg.
3
In complete darkness, I found myself speeding upward. This was my
longest journey by elevator, and I decided that I was ascending the
ancient watch tower by the only available route. The staircase I knew
to be ruinous.
A panel opened as the elevator stopped. I saw a small, square lobby,
dimly lighted with an amber light. I heard the elevator descend, knew
that the panel had closed behind me, that I was alone with--what?
Immediately before me hung a curtain of bright and barbaric colouring,
ancient Egyptian in scheme. Over it upon a ledge projected a figure of
the god Anubis. I closed my eyes tightly for a moment. Silently I told
myself, “You are Brian Woodville. You are in the Black Forest of
Germany. Remember this--and fight! _Fight!_”
I opened my eyes. I stared at the gaudy curtain, when:
“Please come in, Woodville,” said the Voice.
I walked to the curtain, drew it aside, and stepped through.…
Quite still I stood, and looked. I had been tricked or had deceived
myself. This was not the summit of the watch tower. I was in a very
large room, so large that I thought it must have been the banqueting
hall of the old fortress. Part of it was queerly illuminated from no
visible source by a light resembling moonlight. Walls and ceiling were
masked in shadow, so that I could only guess at its dimensions. I
stood in darkness. Before me, in a deep, carved chair, a figure sat.
I had never seen a more magnificent head. The great domed brow, which
appeared to be quite hairless, displayed a tremendous frontal
development. The hawklike but pallid face was lighted by a pair of
such beautiful eyes as I had never met with in man or beast. They were
phenomenally large and golden: they seemed to be inspired by an inner
fire of genius--or of madness.
They were watching me, those wonderful eyes. And I knew instinctively
that, masked though I was in shadow, they could see me clearly.…
Grotesquely supporting that terrible, wonderful head was a tiny,
black-clad body, slender, feeble, and seated cross-legged in the great
chair. Talonlike hands rested upon the knees.
I heard the curtain’s rustle as it dropped behind me. There was no
other sound.
The carved chair I saw now to be raised from the floor upon a sort of
dais or platform. This platform was richly carpeted and bore two
singular decorations: a pair of life-sized kneeling figures.
That right of the chair was wrought in ebony, surely by a great
master: the figure of a Nubian girl, hands crossed upon her breast;
her head, upon which appeared a close-wrapped turban of gold, lowered;
upon one arm a golden bangle. The corresponding figure left of the
chair was identical in every way, except that it seemed to be carved
in ivory. Gold turban and armlet appeared again.
I had never seen such exquisite pieces of statuary. Yet, whilst I
visualized these wonders, not once did I wholly withdraw my gaze from
amber eyes looking out at me searchingly from beneath that great brow.
I was in the presence of Anubis.…
And Anubis was a _dwarf_!