The Greatest Sci-Fi Books of Erle Cox. Erle Cox
of paradise. Glory! What a place to get loose in!"
"Dicky, I'll promise you a free run of it, but I doubt if you'll ever want to look at it at present when you hear the end," said Alan, smiling at the fire he had kindled in his friend. Then he picked up the thread of his story. There was no fear of disbelief now, a few of the details he had given convinced Dick that no layman could have concocted the story. From that out he followed the story with breathless interest, until Alan, now warmed up, came to the story of the opening of the temple and the figure on the couch. Then he could contain himself no longer. "Good God! Alan," he whispered, with his voice trembling, "is she–is she"–he could not frame the word.
"Dick, old man," said Dundas solemnly, "I know as certainly as we are both living that she is living. It's no guess. All these ages, God alone knows how long, she has been lying there waiting for the hand that will call her back to life. Lying there in state, in all her wonderful, glorious beauty. Dick, when you see her you will understand my raving about her. Old fellow, if I could have done what is necessary myself, I could find it in my heart never to allow another man to set eyes upon her, But you will help, Dick. You must. I can trust no one else."
Barry had risen to his feet, and started pacing the room with quick, nervous steps. "Man! Are we both mad? It's incredible–monstrous. Alan, I don't doubt the rest, but in this you must be mistaken. If she be human there can be no life. She may be a masterpiece of consummate art, but human, never!"
Dundas followed the restless movements of his friend with his eyes without moving from his seat. "Dick," he said quietly, "if she be what you think, then, I have lost my heart and soul to and effigy. No, old man. Wonderful as they were, these old builders of wonders, they could not have built such a wonder as she is. Think of the infinite craft and skill with which she was guarded. The whole plan of the place was arranged for her protection. Dick, will you do it?"
Barry came to a standstill in quivering excitement. "Will I do it? Good heaven, man! I'd sell my immortal soul just to look on. Man, it will be the biggest thing–it's gigantic. Think of a paper to the 'Lancet' or the 'B.M.J.' Think of reading it at the next medical conference–"
"Think of the promise you made me," put in Alan coolly. "Dick, I don't want to deprive you of the honour and glory, but you must wait my time. For the present, Dicky, this is a strictly professional engagement. We'll work it on your own terms, but you come out to 'Cootamundra' as my medical adviser until such time as I am ready to disclose everything. After that you can write papers and read papers till the cows come home."
The reminder brought Barry down from the clouds. "You are right, Alan. I was so excited that I forget. You say I may name my own terms. All right. My terms are the free run of the Biological Gallery. In return I'll operate, and take charge of her professionally, so long as she requires my help."
"Done, Dicky. When will you do it?" asked Alan excitedly.
Barry glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Twelve-fifteen. I can finish my work, and be out at 'Cootamundra' by two-thirty. I'll give Walton a ring, and ask him to look after anything urgent that may turn up. That's the best of being on good terms with a hated rival. But, by thunder, Dun, he'll shoot me on sight, and I'll deserve it, for not calling him in as consultant. Rotten treatment for a brother brush, but it can't be helped." He turned, and busied himself at an instrument cabinet. "You won't want any tools, Dick," said Dundas, looking over his shoulder. "I'll bet that there's a better collection of hardware out there than you ever laid your eyes on."
"Oh, well," answered Barry, slipping a couple of cases into his bag, "I'll take them on the off-chance. You'd better come with me in the car."
"I think not," said Alan. "I'll get out ahead of you and get things ready. Tell Madam Kitty I'll give you a feed out there. Goodness only knows how long you'll be–Hold on, Dick, what about food for her? She'll want something of the kind."
Barry knitted his brows thoughtfully, and then went to his desk. "The deuce of it is there's no precedent for such a case. Got any milk out there?" he said, taking up his pen.
"I can get some; I don't use it myself."
"Good! Get a quart or two, and take this down to the chemist," said Dick, scrawling over a sheet of prescription paper. "It's a list of a few things that may come in handy." He paused thoughtfully. "Do you know, Dun, I shouldn't be surprised if they have made all arrangements for the correct nourishment. Some of those locked cabinets you were talking about."
Dundas took the list, and Barry caught up his bag. "While you are waiting for me, time that hour-glass with your watch. It will be better to know the time we will have to wait between the two injections. Ready? Come on, then," said Dick over his shoulder.
Madam Kitty, used as a doctor's wife to the domestic disruptions of her husband's profession, received the news of the immediate flight of both guest and husband with resigned philosophy. Stipulating that Dick would really have something to eat with Alan at 'Cootamundra,' she waved the two on their various ways, wondering a little at Dick's undoubted excitement, though he tried hard to suppress it, and at what urgent call Alan could be mixed up with. For, dutifully, she never even hinted at a question that impinged ever so slightly on her man's work.
Chapter XVII
Dundas made his purchases from the chemist, and then, without further delay, had Billy harnessed, and turned homeward, covering the twelve miles in an hour. His first care was to prepare a meal for Barry, and having accomplished this, he made his way to the shed. Since his first discovery he had, for his own convenience, placed steps in the outer shaft, so that his visits were carried out without the exertion of scrambling in and out. Eagerly he descended the winding stairway to the vestibule, and hurried to the sixth gallery. Everything was as he had left it. Even now he could not cross the threshold of the "temple" without a feeling of awe for what it contained.
In accordance with Barry's instructions, he proceeded to time the hour-glass. After starting it, and carefully noting the time, he turned to the crystal dome, and stood gazing enwrapped before the figure beneath. The wonderful alluring beauty of the woman seemed to appeal to all his senses with renewed force. There was something pathetic in her very helplessness that drew from his manhood a feeling of reverence. She could have not been very old, he thought, as he stood watching; not more than twenty-four or five when the life had been stilled. His mind almost reeled when he tried to realise how long she had lain there awaiting his coming.
The world had been born again, and the history of humanity had been rewritten since those white lids had closed upon her eyes. Through all our known time she had waited there in the silence and solitude. No detail of the picture escaped his searching eyes. He found himself wondering whether the radiant masses of her hair had increased while she was lying there. He wondered, too, whether there was a reason that one white delicate hand lay open, palm down, beside her, while the other was closed. Whose hand was it that had drawn that shimmering sapphire covering over her, and composed her limbs for the long sleep?
Then an unconquerable restlessness seized him, and an anxiety he could not repress took possession of him. With nervous steps he paced the chamber from end to end, pausing now to glance at the receding sand in the glass, and again to rest his eyes on the still figure. At last it was finished, and when Alan snapped the case of his watch he knew that the interval between the two injections would be one hour and fifteen minutes.
By now Barry would be due, so Dundas made his way to the homestead, in order that he would be there in time to receive his friend. However, there was no sign of the doctor's car on the distant road, and, with growing impatience, he roamed in and out of the house. Then a thought flashed across his mind. He went into his bedroom, and looked himself over critically in the glass on his dressing table. Beyond the care of the average neatly-dressed man, as a rule he took little heed of his personal appearance. Now, however, his scrutiny of his reflection seemed to give him little cause for satisfaction. He frowned discontently at the blue serge clad figure, and then looked about the room for inspiration. Presently his face lit up. He remembered that