The Greatest Sci-Fi Books of Erle Cox. Erle Cox
he had a brand new suit of tennis flannels, and, hastily discarding the despised serge, he proceeded to array himself in white. He was deeply immersed in the problem of whether a dark blue or dark red tie would look the better, when the toot of a motor-horn outside announced the arrival of Barry. Hastily deciding for blue, he called out to Dick to make himself at home, and finished his toilet. He appeared before his guest looking not a little self-conscious for his change of raiment, a fact that was by no means lost on that graceless friend of his youth, who proceeded to roast him without mercy, and, for a wonder, Dundas was dumb before the attack. At last he blurted out: "Oh, stop rotting me, Dick! I'm all nerves and jumps. I'll own up that I got into these togs with the hope of improving my appearance. I don't want her to think that all the men in the world are like you. Don't you ever realise that our modern, every-day clothing is the most damnably ugly and inartistic that mankind ever wore." Barry went off into shouts of laughter. "When did you find that out, Dun? I've heard you say that blue dungaree was good enough for anyone."
Shameless now in his fall, Alan faced him without flinching. "I found it out about half an hour ago. Tell you what, Dick. If I had an eighteenth century rig-out of blue satin and gold lace, I'd wear it now. Hanged if I wouldn't. Now you had better have something to eat, for Providence only knows when we will be finished."
In spite of Barry's remonstrance, Alan declined to join him, protesting that he could not swallow a mouthful if he tried. When the doctor had satisfied his hunger the two set out for the shed, carrying with them bottles of milk and other concentrated and nourishing preparations that Barry had suggested, and also the bag containing the instruments.
Both men were now in a state of suppressed excitement. Alan because he stood on the verge of realising his wildest hopes, and Dick at the thought of penetrating to the mysterious discovery so vividly described by his friend. When they entered the shed Alan carefully locked the door, and lit an acetylene lamp. Then he handed the basket to Barry, and the two descended into the shaft. As they entered the doorway to the landing, Dundas cautioned his companion to follow him carefully, and led the way downward. For a while they descended without speaking, the only sound being caused by the tread of Barry's boots, multiplied weirdly by the echoes of the shaft, until at last the impression of the ghostly crowd of followers became too strong for his nerves, and he paused irresolutely.
"Dash it all, Alan," he said, speaking almost in a whisper, "is there much more of this? It's enough to give anyone the jumps."
Dundas looked up at him. "We're not half-way down yet, Dickie. If it's any satisfaction to you, it gave me the jumps to some tune the first time I came down. I'll tell you about it later. You might notice I'm wearing tennis shoes." His voice reverberated in uncanny echoes. Then Barry broke in. "Great Scott, man! Don't let us stand here talking, the place seems full of beastly spooks. I wonder you didn't funk it."
"I did," replied Alan shortly, "but I went through worse, and so will you, my boy." He turned, and they resumed their noisy progress. At last they came to the lower landing, and, in spite of the warning Alan gave, Barry almost dropped the basket he was carrying when his eyes fell on the shadow on the opposite wall. Alan paused and gave Dick a brief but lurid account of his flight for the upper air at his first encounter, and, in spite of the shock he had just undergone, his friend could not forbear to laugh, though he admitted he would have done the same thing.
As the two came to a halt at the head of the stairway to the vestibule; Dundas turned to his chum. "Now, listen, Dick," he said seriously, "before we go any further, you have to understand that when we get to the end of the next steps there are more kinds of sudden death about than you have the faintest idea of. There is only one thing for you to do, and that is to follow my footsteps exactly. If you try to find a track for yourself you will in all probability die very suddenly and very unpleasantly."
"Cheerful sort of place you seem to have strayed into, Dun. Anyhow, you don't need a promise from me to stick to you like a leech. I hope you know your landmarks!'
"Pretty well by now, but there may be a few surprises left that I haven't come on, so keep close behind me, and let nothing tempt you to break away. I'll bring the lamp with me; we may want it later. Come on now, but remember."
With Barry at his heels, Dundas descended the last stairway to the vestibule, pausing on the way to show his friend the place where the blade had blocked his path, and how he had overcome it.
From there onward their progress was punctuated by wrangles. Barry, awe-stricken and enthralled by his surroundings, desired only to linger and satisfy his curiosity, while Alan, impatient at every moment's delay, attempted to hurry him forward. Familiarity with its wonders had to some extent blunted Alan's interest in the Art Gallery, and it had been completely overshadowed by his latest discovery in the "temple," so that it was with a feeling approaching irritation that he urged Barry forward. In spite of bullying and badgering, the journey through the first gallery occupied a quarter of an hour, and finally Dundas swore by all the gods that if Dick would not consent to go direct to the sixth gallery he would call off the agreement and engage Walton for the work. The threat had its intended effect, though as they passed the door of the Biological Gallery, Alan had to move behind him, and was only able to get him past the zone of attraction by resorting to violence.
At length they arrived at the entrance to the antechamber. In his narrative Alan had made no illusion to this feature of the journey. Pausing at the doorway, while Barry stood lost in amazement at its magnificence, Alan briefly outlined the peculiarities of its construction, so as to prepare his chum for the shock. In spite of this, however, and even with the assistance of the friendly rays of the acetylene lamp, it was a white and sober man who stood beside Dundas when he had reached the last gallery. Even in his excitement Alan could not hide his amusement at his friend's discomfiture. "Dicky, old man, if you ever say another word to me about my attempts at sartorial improvement today, I'll write an article describing how you shied when the howling started."
Barry wiped his damp forehead, and heaved a mighty breath. "By thunder! Dun, if I had known what kind of a place you were bringing me to, I think I would have let you get other medical advice." He had been so much upset for one moment that he had taken no notice of his new surroundings. Then his eyes, following those of Dundas, fell upon the "temple," and on the realistic group of figures under the portico. From where they were standing it was almost impossible to decide whether Art or Nature was responsible for that unconventional trio. Obeying all his instincts, Barry turned swiftly away, and drew Alan with him. "Good heavens, man!" he gasped. "I thought you said there was only one."
Alan chuckled at his friend's blushing countenance. "Sorry if your modesty is damaged, Dicky, but your patient is inside. The girls on the portico are merely her guardian angels. I'll admit they are not the stereotyped kind." Turning with his hand on Barry's shoulder, the two walked towards the steps. "Those three hussies are a sample of the art of another period of the world's existence, and if they are true to nature, it merely goes to show that Nature has never been able to improve on the female of the species."
"Upon my word, Dun," said Barry, eyeing the figures askance. "I don't mind a fair thing, but these are rather overproof. I'm sure Kitty would hardly approve of my making their acquaintance. They are too blushfully realistic even as ornaments."
"They are something more than ornaments, Dick. Like everything else about the place, they were put there for a purpose. I'll show you why later. Don't let us waste any more time now. Come on." He stepped to the curtain and drew it aside, at the same time motioning Barry to enter. As the curtain fell behind them the atmosphere of mystery that prevailed in the "temple" gripped them both in its thrall. They bared their heads mechanically and as Dundas led the way to the crystal dome their voices fell to a whisper. Standing beside the glittering canopy, Alan looked from the face of the glorious figure beneath to that of his friend. He knew that Barry's calmer and trained judgment would prove or dispel his hopes at the first glance. It was with a wild thrill of happiness, then, that he saw the blank look on Dick's face give way to amazement. Like a man in a dream, he sank to his knees, pressing his face closer to the transparent cover in an attempt to peer more closely at the still form on the couch. For a few minutes he remained motionless. Then, without turning his head, he spoke in an awed whisper. "It's true. My God! It's true." A moment later he rose suddenly and caught Alan's arm. "Dun, you were right."