FREEDOM OF FELSENWEIR
1
Like a caged animal I paced up and down my room. Snatches of the
dwarf’s conversation haunted me.…
“So he would remain, Woodville, for many generations”--this had
referred to Gaston Max--“but his brain would live on for an
undeterminable period. He would watch himself die. This fate he may
avoid.…
“Certain indiscretions of the Watch master have created quite a local
legend. Felsenweir is reputed to be haunted. But the trust which holds
the property is influentially backed. Glimpses have been obtained of
my Black Watch.…”
The very sibilance of the soft, mocking voice seemed to be repeated in
my ears.…
“So named after a famous regiment of your British Army. Their armour,
composed of metal unfamiliar to most metallurgists, renders them
immune to the zones. They can patrol where no living thing could
penetrate. My bodyguard, Woodville. They operate within a mile radius
of the Watch master’s quarters. Stripped of their armour they are
unpleasant, but capable of swift movement under suitable direction. A
lobster out of its shell would be a ghastly object, would it not?
Owing to an unforeseen accident, I was compelled to despatch one of
them to pursue you.…”
Those creatures were not human--they were not human! It beat upon my
brain with hammer blows: _they were not human!_
The monstrous dwarf in that blue-lighted room had even begun to tell
me something of the life history of the Things composing his Black
Watch. He invited me to visit a subterranean dungeon in which, in his
own words, “these useful servitors are perfected.”
But, rising supreme among all the horrors I had witnessed and had
heard of, was that one of the girls to whom he referred as his Corps
of Pages… “Recruited, Woodville, from many nations, in infancy.…”
They had no souls!
I thought I knew what he meant. Selected for their beauty and trained
with that one object in view (his details respecting this training had
maddened me dangerously), they were, I deduced, permanently under that
influence which I had experienced, and which I believed enthralled
Lonergan. They were soulless in the sense that Anubis controlled their
destinies.
Yet, sometimes, I reasoned, they must be permitted to leave the
castle. On such occasions, by means of his devilish arts, he would
temporarily relieve them of the control. Meeting one, she would seem
to be a beautiful but a normal girl!
I clutched my head, pacing more and more rapidly up and down that
narrow apartment.
Marusa! I could not believe it! Yet how could I dare to doubt so
palpable a truth?
I saw her, as I had seen the others, in that shameful servitude--her
shapely head bound by a golden turban, her lithe, sun-browned body.…
_Marusa_ was one of the Corps of Pages!
I had given my heart to a shadow! I loved a beautiful phantom,
incapable even, if Anubis now willed it, of being my woman as I longed
to be her man!
“I will give her to you.…”
Dropping into an armchair, I lowered my head in my hands and clutched
it frenziedly. So I sat facing a prospect which looked like madness
when the Voice of Anubis addressed me.
“Truth is sometimes strong medicine, Woodville. But if we can
assimilate it, it means new life. I have released John Lonergan of
control. I suggest that you dine together. By the way, it is just
seven o’clock. Lonergan has a brilliant brain. I could make use of
him. Gaston Max has had also his experience. He is ready for the
decision which I have demanded. I shall disconnect your room. Nothing
that takes place in it during to-night will be known outside its four
walls. You have the freedom of Felsenweir. This upon my word, which
you may disbelieve, but which I never broke. You have five hours. At
midnight I shall ask for your verdict.”
The Voice ceased.
I raised my head. I had heard that whining sound which told of an
elevator ascending. The panel slid upward.
John Lonergan stepped into the room!
“Woodville!” A light of sanity shone in his keen eyes, the whole force
of the man expressed itself in the grip of his hand. “Our time is
short!”
The panel reclosed. The elevator descended. We were alone.
“Lonergan!”
“Woodville--we have _five hours_. In that time we’ve got to save the
world!”
2
Lonergan’s story was simple enough.
“When you left me back there, in the hotel,” he explained, “to go send
the telegrams, I heard a noise out on the balcony. I had the shutter
up in a matter of seconds. Nobody was there. But I saw a little black
box on the table. Right away, I guessed--a bomb!
“I guessed wrong. But I walked around it and didn’t touch it. When my
back was to the gardens and my face to the apartment, the lid opened!
I know now I must have been covered. There was a line to it. A
blinding light shot into my eyes!”
“I know! I know!” I cried excitedly.
“Is that so?” He looked at me dully. “I just thought my guess was
right and the bomb had exploded. Because I wasn’t given any more
guesses until I found myself sitting in an armchair, Max and you
looking at me.
“It’s all clear from there on right to the time it was arranged I
shared Max’s room--beyond that, right to when I went to sleep. Then
it’s a mix-up like a Navaho blanket… patterns that don’t seem to mean
anything.
“I’ve got a hazy idea of climbing down some place--the balcony, I
guess--and of running… some time later I sort of dreamed, Woodville, I
was talking to _you_. Mostly I remember a pair of tiger eyes… but it’s
all foggy. Until three minutes ago, when I found myself in a room the
dead spit of this, empty, and the Voice directed: ‘Be good enough to
step into the elevator.’ Said elevator arrived and I did as I was
told. Here I am. I’ve certainly got a lot to learn!”
“You have! So have we all. You disappeared from that hotel bedroom,
Lonergan, leaving a note behind.”
“My own handwriting?”
“Your own handwriting! Max and I followed you here, to this hell-hole.
It was a trap!”
“As I see it,” Lonergan declared, “we’ve got just one hope… the
copper-haired maiden.”
I heard the elevator ascending. I glanced at Lonergan.
“It’s all right,” he nodded. “You can still believe what I say. My
brain’s clear.”
When the panel shot up and the tiny car arrived:
“I suppose, an invitation to explore?” I said, smiling very
mirthlessly--“as we have the freedom of Felsenweir! Wait for me
below.”
“Seems that way,” Lonergan agreed.
He stepped into the elevator. It immediately descended and the panel
closed. I waited, listening to the weird whining in diminuendo. We
were trapped! The organization of Felsenweir was automatic. Our
courses were preordained. The elevator ascended again. The panel
opened. I stepped in. In utter darkness I went down.
I found myself in that strange, sun-lighted hall with the futuristic
square pillars--the amazing statue--the sense of emptiness--futility.
Lonergan was awaiting me. By him stood a big blond man wearing white
overalls. His fair, graying hair stood upright, stubble-fashion, his
ruddy face was decorated by spectacles containing such powerful lenses
that any character which may have rested in his eyes was not to be
detected. He smiled and bowed.
“Mr. Woodville,” he said, speaking English with a marked accent, “I
have already made myself known to your friend--but my name is Richter.
I belong to the laboratory staff. At the moment I am instructed to act
as your guide to Felsenweir. I may add, a pleasant duty.”
I exchanged glances with Lonergan. He nodded reassuringly.
“You have seen the laboratory, I understand? What then can I show
you?”
“I guess,” said Lonergan, “we’ll leave it to you.”
“Very good!” Mr. Richter seemed to be delighted. “I shall explain to
you therefore the system of the Black Watch. Follow me closely,
gentlemen.”
We followed him across the hall, which I remembered well, to a door
upon the opposite side from that which gave access to the tower. It
was open and unguarded. We descended a short flight of stone steps and
found ourselves in a square room, obviously a survival of the original
fortress. It was unoccupied and unfurnished, but an arched opening
showed at the farther end. The room was more dimly illuminated than
that above, and an effect of twilight was produced.
Herr Richter turned to us. His eyes, or what I could make out of his
eyes through the thick lenses, were lighted up with the enthusiasm of
the specialist.
“The secretary of the British Association of Chemists,” he said--“I
more particularly address you, Mr. Woodville, although Mr. Lonergan
also will be interested--recently pointed out that, since we
understand the composition of protoplasm, there would seem to be no
reason why chemistry should not ultimately accomplish its synthesis,
thus causing life to manifest itself. He suggested that a modification
of this mysterious substance, which gives rise on the one hand to the
amœba and on the other to a more highly organized being, might in
time, by a process which he described as yet undiscovered, enable us
to _incubate_ a human being resembling ourselves.”
“I read a report of his speech,” I replied. “It was delivered in
Birmingham, I believe?”
“Quite correct,” Herr Richter confirmed. “He suggested--I quote from
memory--that perhaps in a thousand years--somewhat pessimistic, I
think--chemists might produce synthetic beings who could perform the
workaday work of the world, thus setting free those naturally begotten
to undertake fresh conquests of knowledge and of Nature. He added that
this seemed to be an absurd dream, but that it would be unwise to
dogmatize and to say that it could not be realized.”
He paused, staring alternately at Lonergan and myself. Then:
“It _has_ been realized!” he added. “And those thousand years
suggested by the English chemist have been bridged by the greatest
scientist the world has ever produced. Be good enough to follow me.”
He stepped into shadow under the arched opening.
Exchanging a hasty glance with Lonergan, I followed.
My worst fears were realized!…
This was the incubating chamber referred to by Anubis, to which in
fact he had offered personally to conduct me!
Over what I was now compelled to see I prefer to draw a veil. The
enthusiasm of Richter was nauseating! I conceived a loathing for the
man which I can find no words to express. Stage by stage, he showed us
how the gigantic creatures known as the Black Watch were produced.
Synthetic they were, undoubtedly--laboratory products. But, try as I
would, my unscientific mind would not allow me to get away from the
idea that in the end some spark of humanity animated those ghastly,
hopeless creatures, controlled mechanically, as an engine is
controlled, by a “Watch master.”
To him Herr Richter now proposed to introduce us.
“There are in Felsenweir,” he said, “a class of products, purely
human, but subjected to scientific treatment, to whom I should be
happy to draw your attention. But I am not free to do this. I refer to
the Corps of Pages, more particularly attached to the Master, but
frequently detailed for special duty when distinguished visitors are
guests in the castle--as is the case at present.”
“Anubis, himself,” I interrupted harshly, “has been good enough not
only to explain to me the education of these damsels, but also to
introduce me personally to two of them. I think, Herr Richter, we may
pass over this subject.”
Herr Richter shrugged his shoulders and smiled with unending
amiability.
“As you wish,” he replied, “as you wish, I merely desire to carry out
my instructions. Shall we visit the rare animals?”
“Say--what do you mean, exactly?” Lonergan demanded.
“Well,” Richter explained, “here in Felsenweir, since Felsenweir is
our headquarters, we have the more rare and delicate beasts selected
by the Master for survival. The more ordinary brutes, chosen by our
experts, are, as no doubt you know, assembled at various spots,
insulated, of course, all over the world. A series, Mr. Lonergan”--he
turned to my companion--“of minor Arks!”
“I get your meaning entirely,” said Lonergan, speaking without humour,
or indeed any other emotion whatever.
And so, presently, in a subterranean place deep below the rock of
Felsenweir, in queer light, I found myself looking through thick plate
glass at creatures whose homes were so widely separated as Borneo is
from Iceland.
“All essential, you see,” Richter explained. “In the modified world,
gentlemen, inimical life will find no place. That harmful phase will
have been eliminated. What little remains in accidentally insulated
spots it will be the duty of specialists like yourself, Mr. Woodville,
to discover and exterminate.”
My brain reeled! And as we proceeded on that incredible tour of
inspection, the borderland of sanity receded farther and farther.
Lonergan’s expression sufficiently indicated that he shared my frame
of mind.
Thus we enjoyed the freedom of Felsenweir.…
3
There were parts of the rambling old fortress where synthetic sunshine
did not prevail: dark, dimly lighted tunnels, worn stairs, and
crumbling arches. At one such point, a narrow flight of steps
descended on the left to impenetrable darkness, whilst rather farther
ahead was an ascending flight, down upon which a dim light shone.
I had frankly lost my bearings. But from this indication and that, I
had come to the conclusion we were in the base of the great keep.
An extraordinary desire to test this theory overpowered me.
Herr Richter, full of scientific enthusiasm, was leading Lonergan down
the dark steps.
“Some noxious creatures,” I heard him say, his voice echoing hollowly
around the vault-like place in which we were, “play a definite and a
useful part in the scheme of the world, Mr. Lonergan.”…
He disappeared, Lonergan stumblingly following him.
I had just time to explore the stair on the right before I should be
missed! I advanced, turned on to the stair, and above me saw what I
took to be a spear of natural sunlight striking through an arrow-hole
of some chamber to which the staircase led.
Standing still, I listened.
Richter’s voice was dying away, deep in the bowels of the fortress. I
was taking risks. I might get lost. I might blunder into some death
zone. But that I should peer into this chamber at the top of the steps
was imperative. I felt like a schoolboy being shown around some
historic spot, as I slipped away from my guide to do a little
exploring on my own account.
Quietly, but swiftly, I mounted the stair. On the threshold of the
room to which it led, I pulled up short.…
It was a large, rectangular, roughly paved chamber lighted by that one
arrow-hole which really had been my objective. Yet, as I have said, on
the threshold I pulled up. That part of the chamber immediately before
me where the wall should have been--for the room plainly had once been
square--now presented a black cavity into which the constrained light
from the arrow-hole failed to penetrate!
This was queer enough, but not queer enough to have struck that chill
to my heart which I had experienced at the moment I had reached the
threshold.
Hanging from a beam not seven paces away were three monstrous bats!
I cannot express the horror and loathing which the nearness of the
things induced. Seen in that dim light, they resembled at first
glance, in every respect, bats in repose, for so, swung from some
support, the bat sleeps.
Frankly, I think I should have bolted, but horror held me rooted to
the spot. I was compelled to stare. Therefore my eyes slowly grew used
to semi-darkness.
I noticed a peculiarity which distinguished these bats from any others
with which I had come in contact (and on the Rio Negro my experiences
in this respect had been ghastly and terrible: men wither and die
there from nightly visitations of vampire bats).
The difference which had arrested my attention was this:
These bats hung upright and not head downwards!
They were monstrous creatures, at least as large as I had estimated
when first I had sighted one in the cemetery above the town. They were
of a fish-like colour. I imagined that in the light of the moon they
would have been nearly invisible.
Dead, glassy eyes--of the size of the bottom of a tumbler--they had,
flat and meaningless; attenuated bodies. But, peering more closely, I
perceived that these bodies were _quite flat_. Mosquito-like wings
drooped from the shoulders downward. But where the body--or,
considering their abnormal size, the _carcase_--of the creature should
have been, was this pendulous flatness, reminding me unpleasantly of a
squashed beetle.
Courage was reborn. I advanced a step into the Room of the Bats; when:
“Mr. Woodville!” came dimly.
Herr Richter had missed me!
Quickly I stepped forward. I grasped the nearer of those three pendent
forms.
“Mr. Woodville!”
The voice grew urgent, nearer.
“_Woodville!_ For God’s sake, where are you?”
The latter voice was Lonergan’s.
Racing footsteps sounded. I turned as Herr Richter, his eyes glaring
through the pebbles of his glasses, followed by Lonergan who looked
very pale, ran into the room.
“You alarmed me, Mr. Woodville!” said Richter. “I am relieved to find
you here.”
I was my own master again.
“I merely stepped aside, meaning to overtake you. But these…” I
pointed… “interested me.”
“The flying suits?”
Richter nodded, and turning, drew Lonergan forward. For he too had
been hesitating on the threshold, as _I_ had hesitated.
“They function, gentlemen, on _energy waves_ sent out at a sympathetic
elevation of one mile above ground level. At suitable spots for
alighting and departure are stations. Ascent and descent are vertical.
These suits carry a simple steering gear, a radio attachment, and are
absolutely fool-proof.”
Lonergan joined me, gingerly touching one of the suits.
“Our chief chemist,” Richter went on, “recently visited the United
States to learn if energy waves functioned in the atmosphere of that
continent. It is curious that even the brilliant brain of the Master
has so far failed to solve the problem. Beyond cutting in on radio,
those waves are powerless in America!”
Lonergan grasped my arm so tightly that I winced. The mystery of
Hartford had been explained in one sentence!
“Energy waves have a limited range.” Herr Richter was speaking again.
“One station is insufficient. Unlike _sound_. Sound can be transmitted
from the laboratory here, all around the world, and sound can kill.”
His enthusiasm carried him away.
“I will demonstrate, gentlemen, while we are here, this revolutionary
system of flying. Imagine a series of overhead cables, a mile above
the earth--invisible, as radio waves are invisible. No cumbersome
mechanism is necessary. We carry no juice. Through the observation
openings known as the ‘eyes,’ we can study our course. Within the
limitations of the route, this course is not constrained. There is a
simple control. A child could master it. These suits are ready for
use: allow me to show you.”
Lonergan and I watching with all our eyes, Herr Richter stepped to a
sort of narrow trench running parallel with the beam above from which
the “bats” were suspended.
“Movement one!”
He pulled a lever--and stepped aside.
The suit above slowly dropped. As it dropped, it opened out its
pendulous belly.
“Standing beneath the flying harness,” Herr Richter explained, “it
would have enveloped me. All I should have to do would be this----”
He dived into the suit. It closed upon him.… It opened. Sweating with
enthusiasm, he dived out again.
“Then,” he continued, “this happens----”
He moved sundry things, and the “bat” sank to the paved floor.
“Note the launching rail.” He indicated it--a steel bar along the
floor. “If I were now inside the suit, I should press my elbows
outward, and the wings would expand! I should then watch for a blue
light beyond the pit, there, and when I saw it, I should thrust hard
against the launching rail.”
“Gee!” said Lonergan. “That’s marvellous!”
“I regret,” Herr Richter continued, “that Nicholson, the flight
controller, is not on duty. Otherwise, I could complete my
demonstration. But--please be very careful--we can peep down to the
control platform from which he directs outgoing and incoming flights.…
He is a Canadian. You would like him, Mr. Lonergan.”
“I never met a Canadian I liked,” Lonergan growled. “May be my
misfortune. But it’s a fact.”
4
Back in my room I tried to marshal in some order the incredible facts
which I had learned.
Not the least of the wonders was that of the Black Watch, those
caricatures of humanity having each definite but limited functions,
and controlled by the Watch master. His duties resembled those of the
captain of the Guard in ancient days. But how much more intricate they
were!
The troops under his command responded to a sort of amazing keyboard
by means of which he could control them, limit their actions, follow
their courses!
It was science gone mad--or, rather, it was a small piece of the world
in charge of a superman whose genius had leaped many centuries into
the future. I tried to review what Richter had told me about the
“neutral zones,” in charge of local officials all over the globe. The
Brothers of Anubis all were armed with some sort of contrivance which
insured immunity from that sound blast which was to destroy humanity.…
Here at last was the explanation of those vampire rumours which had
brought me to the Black Forest! Lonergan’s mission and the tragedy of
the Pyrenees appeared in a new light.
With these data in my possession, plus what Lonergan, Max, and I had
learned from personal observation, it was obvious that the creature
who called himself Anubis held the fate of millions of lives in the
hollows of those talonlike hands!
I was assured--I dared not doubt--that the sound waves which he
proposed to send around the globe in geometrically considered
directions, so that no inhabited territory was left out of the design,
must end life… whenever he willed!
Anubis, whoever he might be, possessed the brain of six men of genius.
He was a dreadful phenomenon!
Curious to reflect that with such gigantic intelligence he yet was not
immune from the vice of ambition. He aspired to rule the world, but
recognized that, with the millions now populating it, such an
aspiration was futile. Therefore, coldly logical, he had determined to
reduce his vast kingdom to controllable dimensions.
Frenziedly, I paced up and down my silent apartment. I believed myself
free temporarily from the ever watchful Master. Richter, that
cold-blooded enthusiast with the eyes of a child, had said something
which had led me to believe that the dreaded Lord of Felsenweir was
resting. After all, the most gigantic brain cannot dispense entirely
with sleep!
But I knew that I was very near to the borderland--for why otherwise
should I drop on the bed and clutch my head with twitching fingers?
To be defeated, helpless, with one’s future in pawn, was a condition
calculated to madden any man of action. Yet, at this moment, such was
my state.
I heard the familiar whine of an ascending elevator. I raised my face.
I don’t doubt it was haggard. The panel lifted. The elevator reached
floor level.
Marusa stepped out.…