  Produced by Al Haines. THE SECRET BY CHARLES WILLING BEALE. Author of "The Ghost of Guir House." F. TENNYSON NEELY, Copyrighted, 1899, (All Rights Reserved.) THE SECRET OF THE EARTH. PROLOGUE. When Dirk Waaijen, master of the Voorne, was five days out from the island of Celebes, a strange thing happened. For nearly a week the Dutchman had idled along with a cargo of cocoa, jaggaree, trepang, some Manado coffee, a few bags of nutmegs and other products of the Archipelago, but without an incident worth logging; when suddenly, an odd looking cask, with mast and streamer, was seen floating in the waters ahead, and all hands became alive with excitement. A couple of burly fellows hauled the barrel upon the deck, with the expectation of a prize, but were discomfited on finding that it contained only some cotton cloth, carefully wrapped about a dirty water-stained document, written in a language which no one could understand. Even Captain Waaijen himself was unable to read a word of it, despite his wise look, and the volumes of smoke which he blew from time to time over the packet. Had he confided in me, his only English speaking passenger, I might at least have made him comprehend the importance of the paper, even if unable to render a literal translation; but the captain was surly, and took the bundle to his room. It is even possible that he was ignorant of the fact that it was written in the English language. However this may have been, I was surprised on reaching Gravenhage, the end of our voyage, to have the paper thrust into my hands by Waaijen himself, and without a word of explanation. Believing it to be merely the record of some unfortunate craft foundered in the South Sea, I laid the packet aside, not even unrolling it for weeks. When I did so, I was amazed at the contents, and immediately sought the master of the Voorne; but he had left upon another of those endless voyages, the length of which even the company was unable to decide. Assured that no claim will ever be made upon the document, and overwhelmed with the profundity of its contents, I offer it to the public, convinced that in the history of our planet, there is nothing half so astounding as the revelation it contains. It is to be regretted that the paper cannot be given in its entirety; the omissions, indicated by asterisks, being the result of damage caused by salt water to the MS., which has made it undecipherable in those places; the total thus lost amounting to more than a hundred pages. The following is an exact rendering of the decipherable parts of the Attlebridge papers, handed me by the captain of the Voorne. I. I am to write roughly of the past—more carefully of the present. Of the past that our identity may be established by reference to certain events which many will remember, should we be lost. Of the present, for reasons that will be obvious as I proceed. On the morning of the 16th of November, 1894, I awoke to find myself the occupant of a narrow iron bedstead, in a small, poorly furnished room. The wall paper was mildewed, and the ceiling discolored with smoke. I was unable to remember where I was, and called aloud: "Torrence!" A sleepy answer recalled the situation, and assured me that all was well. Torrence, who was my twin brother, occupied the mate to my bed, on the opposite side of the room. Not wishing to disturb him, I lay quietly watching the approach of dawn through a small window with Venetian blinds, crank-sided and broken. Later, I was myself aroused by a curse coming from the other bed. The curse was launched broadly against the town, and concentrated into a deeper venom as it reached its objective climax—the room. I smiled and turned over. "Glad you're awake at last," I ventured, observing that he was looking around the place with a disgust equal to my own. It was our first experience of London. We were Americans, and had just landed. Torrence yawned and declared that he had been awake all night, despite my assurance that he had been snoring shamefully. "I wonder when the old lady will want her pay for all this finery," he said, feeling the quality of the sheets, and looking up at the ceiling dismally. Indeed we had a right to feel blue, having but little money, and no friends, in a strange land. "She wants it as soon as she can get it," I replied, having consulted our landlady on the subject the previous evening. "In fact, she told me on our way up the stairs last night, that she generally required her lodgings to be paid for in advance; but that as we were Americans she would not insist, although she trusted that we would be able to settle in a day or two." "She's too trustful by a jugful. We may not be able to pay her at all!" yawned Torrence. "Don't talk that way; you scare me!" I exclaimed. The truth is, I was never so daring as Torrence, who resembled me only in looks, and when he alluded to our impoverished condition, and its possible consequences, I shuddered. Instinctively I glanced at the two modest trunks against the wall, and reflected that they contained the bulk of our possessions. I knew there was not enough value in both to pay our passage back to New York, when the little money we had brought with us should be spent. Moreover we had burned the bridges, and must look ahead. We had come to England for the same reason that Englishmen sometimes go to America, to ply our crafts, and earn a living, and now that we were there, I heartily wished we were back. My eyes rested in a kind of reverie on the ends of the trunks where our names were painted in large, white letters—Torrence and Gurthrie Attlebridge, respectively. Then I began to wonder if the Attlebridges would ever distinguish themselves, and if either of us would ever carve a fortune out of the Babylon we had adopted as a home. Torrence was an inventor, while I was a writer; and strangely enough, with proclivities so widely divergent, we had managed with twin-like harmony to quarrel with our patrons, and our bread and butter simultaneously and irrevocably. Torrence decided at once to accept the rather dubious offer of an Englishman, with whom he had corresponded, to aid him in the development of his air ship, and I—well I decided to go with Torrence. Accordingly we scraped together what little cash we could, and bade farewell to Gotham. We took passage in a cattle boat, and were nearly three weeks upon the water, having reached London on the afternoon previous to the opening of this record. A search for cheap lodgings in a moderately respectable part of town, had landed us in the cheerless apartment described. Torrence was again stretching himself, preparatory to rising; but this time his invectives were hurled against the ship that had brought us over, and the bellowing beasts that had loaded it. Not heeding my brother's unhappy reminiscences of the Galtic, and being anxious for the future, I inquired how much money he had left. His answer was not cheering. "About twenty pounds in those white paper things; three of those little gold pieces, and a couple of dollars' worth of silver. That is from my recollection of last night; but I must get up and count it." We jumped out of bed at the same instant, and began emptying our pockets. We were not expert in estimating English money, but concluded that we had a little over two hundred dollars between us, and that being in a strange land, with no positive assurance of work, it behooved us to be up and stirring. We determined to part with nothing we could help until one or the other of us had found employment. At Torry's suggestion I had requested our landlady to remit her usual rule of advance payment, but reflection now made us doubt the wisdom of such a course. "She may think we have less than we really have," I remarked. "How much time did you say she would give us?" asked Torrence in reply. I saw that he was anxious, and when my brother was anxious, I was generally more so. In fact, although twins, I had always leaned upon him, due, I suppose, to a tacit acknowledgment of his superior powers, and the fellow had powers superior to most men. Answering his question, I said: "She didn't mention any particular day, but only remarked that gentlemen usually paid in advance, but that as we were Americans——" "I see, as we were not gentlemen, but Americans, she'd wait till she got it. What do you think under the circumstances we'd better do? Remember that a couple of hundred dollars for two men to live upon until they find work in a city like this, isn't exactly wealth. Remember also the saying about a fool and his money. Now what shall we do about the landlady?" "Pay her," I said without hesitation. "But when?" "Now! Give her a couple of weeks in advance, and then if we want a couple more on credit, it will be easier to get it." We decided that Torrence should take what funds we had, and in his off-hand, plausible manner, make the payment agreed upon. He had a wonderful way of impressing people with the idea that money was of no importance to him. When the settlement was made, I was glad he had done it, it being evident that Mrs. Twiteham was impressed. I make a note of these trivial circumstances to show our actual condition, as well as for future reference should it ever be needed. This little transaction disposed of, we sauntered out into the street to look after breakfast, which we found in a neighboring restaurant. The voyage had sharpened our appetites, and we ate a dollar's worth of food in an alarmingly short space of time, an extravagance we agreed should not be repeated. After breakfast, however, we felt that having started the day so liberally, it would hardly be fair to "clip off the corners of a square meal," as Torry declared, by slighting its proper ending, and so we bought a couple of large cigars, and then climbed on top of one of those great omnibuses with three horses, to seek our fortunes. It is singular how indifferent men will sometimes be to expenses with the narrowest margin separating them from starvation, and yet how parsimonious they often become with untold wealth at their disposal; and in each instance their better judgment will condemn the course pursued. My brother's air ship had been for years upon the verge of success. A fortune had been already spent upon it, and his friends had grown distrustful. It was always a trifle that was needed to perfect the mechanism, which was doubtless a triumph of inventive genius. It is not my purpose to describe the machine, in fact it would be impossible for me to do so, being neither a mechanic nor a scientist, but I will simply say that it was built of aluminum; shaped like an exaggerated cartridge sharpened at both ends and supported in the air by the application of an extraordinary discovery which neutralized the attraction of gravitation, and propelled by a horizontal screw beneath, which could be made to revolve at such enormous speed that the effect of the most violent hurricane was practically inoperative. As yet, only models had been made of the machine, the design being too intricate and costly to admit of a full sized apparatus until every detail had been mastered; but his last model had flown, and come so near perfection, that an English gentleman had written to him about it, offering assistance under certain conditions. This offer might never have been considered, were it not for the disaffection of his patrons about that time, but as it was, we left America at once. The business firm that we were seeking was that of Wetherbee & Hart, No. 3 Kirby Street. As the omnibus carried us through the crowded thoroughfares, it was plain that Torrence was growing uneasy. Things had looked promising in the distance, but as the time approached for an interview, we began to realize the consequences of a failure to elicit Wetherbee's interest. Should he refuse to aid us we could see nothing but the poorhouse ahead. On leaving the 'bus, we had a short distance to walk, and it is safe to say that we were lost in less than five minutes. The multiplicity of ways and their labyrinthic character, was confusing to our rectangular conception of a town, and after a number of fruitless efforts we found ourselves back at the corner from which we had started. But perseverance finally conquered, and we stood facing a doorplate which read: "Wetherbee & Hart, Inventors and Solicitors of Patents." At that moment I was so oppressed by the thought of the pending interview that I wished we were lost again. Walking up a narrow flight of stairs, we stood before a glass door with a blue paper shade screening the interior. There was no mistake; we were there at last, for the firm's name was painted in sprawling letters over the panel. The outward appearance was not indicative of wealth, and our hearts sank. There was an old-fashioned bell pull, in the absence of electricity, and I rang. A boy came to the door with many brass buttons sewed on to a dirty coat, and Torrence inquired if Mr. Wetherbee was in. "No, sir, but Mr. Hart is here," answered the boy. It was a disappointment, no letters having ever passed between my brother and the gentleman named. We decided to go in, however, and having given our cards to the boy, passed in to an ante-room. The place was scant of furniture, and had a poverty-stricken look. Two large tables were covered with models, while the walls were whitewashed and hung with mechanical drawings. As there were no chairs, we stood, and as we had not finished our cigars, continued to smoke. The sound of a deep, pompous voice proceeded from an inner chamber, presumably the sanctum of the proprietors. Presently the owner of the voice entered. He was a man with bushy eyebrows and a square chin. "Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked magnificently. We were so taken aback that neither of us knew exactly what he could do. I believe Torry thought of asking him if he could turn a handspring in a half-bushel measure, a feat he had once seen performed at a circus, but something in my manner must have stopped him. I waited for Torrence to answer respectfully, the man evidently being accustomed to inspire not only respect but awe. My brother, however, took his time, and after a couple of pulls on his cigar, he said, without moving from the place where he stood: "Mr. Hart, I presume!" "Yes, I am Mr. Hart. Do you wish to see me?" "Well, rather!" answered Torrence. "I've come all the way from America to see you: or I should say your partner, Mr. Wetherbee." Hart coughed, and waved his hand a couple of times at an imaginary cloud of smoke. "I must ask you to stop smoking. It is contrary to our rules," he observed querulously. "Certainly!" answered Torrence, throwing his cigar stump upon the tiled floor and stepping on it. There was no receptacle provided for such things, and the floor looking as dirty as the street, I followed his example. Hart called for the buttons, and directed him to pick up the stumps and throw them in the grate in the next room. The boy did as he was bid, and passed back into the sanctum. "It was a matter of business," I began, observing that things looked squally, and dreading the consequences of an unfavorable impression, at the very beginning of our interview. "It was in relation to my brother's air ship that we came, and——" "And what, pray, do you mean by an air ship?" demanded Hart, with a look of supercilious superiority that was more exasperating than withering. "I supposed you must have heard of it," I ventured to observe. "Heard of an air ship! The idea is preposterous!" he exclaimed. "And yet," said Torrence, "I have one, which your partner, Mr. Wetherbee, is anxious to investigate, and perhaps to purchase, as I have been led to believe." "That is impossible!" cried Hart, holding his chin higher, and adding to his general offensiveness. "Wetherbee is a man of sense—and—the thing is absurd!" He turned half around on his heel as if about to leave us, but my brother's quiet, well-possessed manner deterred him. "I beg your pardon. I have Mr. Wetherbee's letters, which are sufficient evidence. We need capital to put the scheme into practical shape, and give it commercial value, and I have come to London to seek it." "The old story. The one desideratum with you fellows always. You have nothing to risk yourselves, and everything to gain. If you can delude some fool into pushing your crazy schemes you are satisfied. But this, of all the absurdities, is the most preposterous—the most utter——" "And has Mr. Wetherbee never spoken to you of my invention?" demanded Torrence, growing pale. "Never! nor is he likely to do so. Mr. Wetherbee is a sensible and practical man." "Perhaps it may have been his good sense and practicability that led him to take so much interest in my patent, and I can only express surprise that he has never mentioned it to you. But I do not wish to intrude, Mr. Hart, and as you are doubtless a busy man, I am merely going to ask you to tell me where I can find your partner, my business being with him." "Mr. Wetherbee has neither the time nor the inclination to talk about such balderdash as you propose, and as my time is valuable, I must bid you good-morning." "Stop!" cried Torrence, as the man was about to go, "when I came here I expected to find a gentleman, but now acknowledge my mistake, and yet I am going to honor you with a bet, if you have the nerve to take it, which I doubt; but I now and here offer to wager you a thousand pounds against a hundred that I will carry you to Paris in my air ship within a month!" It was an absurd boast considering we had not fifty pounds in the world, and that the ship was not built, and that we depended on Wetherbee & Hart for the money to build it. But the speech had its effect, for Hart relaxed a trifle from his haughty bearing, and said, with a manner approaching civility: "No, gentlemen, you will never carry me in your air ship anywhere, nor will I bet with you; but if you are determined to find Mr. Wetherbee, his address is The Bungalow, Gravesend. He seldom comes to this office, and you can reach him by either boat or train." Torrence took down the address and we bid Hart good-morning; thoroughly disappointed, but rather pleased that the interview had not terminated in a fight. In the street I observed that my brother looked more anxious than I had yet seen him. What was to become of us if we failed to interest Wetherbee? II. The Bungalow was a quaint, old-fashioned place in neither town nor country. The house stood in a garden, and beyond the garden were some fields belonging to the premises; and in the distance scattered groups of buildings like an abortive effort to start a village. There was a barn in one of the fields, and from the look of his surroundings, we should have said that Mr. Wetherbee had been a farmer whose domain had been encroached upon by the vanguard of suburban residences. We went through an iron gate with the words "The Bungalow" blocked in brass letters between the bars, and walked down a cemented path bordered with boxwood, to a green door opening directly into the house. There was no porch, and the entrance was only a step above the path. We were shown into a musty parlor, which felt damp and cold, although a small fire was burning in the grate. The windows were low and opened upon the garden, but the trees were bare and the flowers dead. There were pictures on the walls, and jars upon the tables and mantel, where bunches of withered grasses were displayed as relics of the summer. The carpet and furniture were old and faded. It did not look like the abode of wealth, and we saw no ground for hope. Observing the dejected look on Torry's face, I tried to comfort him with the reflection that some of the wealthiest of the English live with the least ostentation. "I know it," he answered looking up. "The man may be worth a million, but I doubt it." There was a cough in the ball, and the sound of some one approaching with a walking stick. In a minute the door was opened, and an old man bent nearly double, and supporting himself with a cane, entered the room. "Two of you! I didn't expect to see but one," he muttered, hobbling across the carpet without further salute, and then, as he hooked the handle of his stick into the leg of a chair, and pulled it up to the fire for himself, added: "Have seats." "My brother came with me, as we have always lived together," said Torrence, by way of explanation, "although I only sent my individual card, as it is you and I who have corresponded. I hope we find you well, Mr. Wetherbee, and that this damp weather doesn't disagree with you." Wetherbee grunted, and poked the fire. "Nothing disagrees with me," he said after a minute. "I've been hardened to this climate for eighty years. It has done its best to kill me, and failed." Then with a grim smile, he added: "My figure isn't quite as good as it used to be; but I'm not vain, Mr. Attlebridge; I'm not vain." "I suppose you've been a sufferer from rheumatism?" I suggested, by way of talk. Evidently he did not hear me, as he was raking cinders from the bottom of the grate. When he had finished, he said: "Did you come over from America in your air ship?" Torrence laughed. "Not this time, Mr. Wetherbee, but I expect to go back in it," he answered. "Great confidence! Great confidence!" exclaimed Wetherbee; "Well, I'm glad of it; nothing is ever accomplished without it." The old man leaned his head upon his hands, while his elbows rested on his knees. It was impossible for him to sit upright. His hair was white, and his face wrinkled; he looked his age. Certainly he was a different person from what Torrence had expected. "I suppose you have brought a model with you," continued Wetherbee; "you Yankees are so handy with such things." This was evidently intended as a compliment. "No," said Torrence, "I did not suppose it was necessary. The transportation would have been costly, and I knew that if you insisted, it could be shipped after me. My last effort was deficient in some minor details, which would have necessitated a thorough overhauling of the parts, with readjustment. My position now is that of absolute mastery of the subject, and I thought, with your assistance, that I might build a full-sized vessel at once. There is no longer any need to waste money on models, as the next machine will fly, full size." Mr. Wetherbee lifted his head a little. "How can you be sure of it?" he asked. "Because my last model did," answered Torrence. "And yet you admit there was an error." "There was a slight error of calculation, which impaired the power I hoped to evolve; but I know where the mistake lay and can remedy it. All my plans and formulas are with me. There is no vital principle at stake. The thing is assured beyond a doubt." "And what would be the size of the vessel you propose to build?" asked Wetherbee. "My idea is to construct a ship for practical aerial navigation, capable of carrying half a dozen passengers, with their luggage. Such a vessel would be about sixty feet long, with ten feet beam; while her greatest depth would be about eleven feet." "And how long a time would it take to construct such a craft?" "With everything at our hand, and all necessary funds forthcoming, I should say it would require about six weeks." The old man's figure was growing wonderfully erect. His eyes shone with vivid intensity. I could see that my brother was making an impression, and hoped for a successful turn in affairs. "And what did you say would be the probable cost of such a machine?" inquired Wetherbee, his back still unrelaxed. "I did not say," answered Torrence; "but from the best of my knowledge—provided labor and material are no dearer over here than at home—I should estimate that the thing could be turned out ready for service, at an expense of—say, twenty thousand dollars." Wetherbee's eyes were fixed intently upon the fire. He looked even more interested than our most sanguine expectations could have pictured. "That is—let me see!" he muttered. "About four thousand pounds," I answered. "And you will guarantee the result?" "Mr. Wetherbee," said Torrence, drawing his chair a little nearer the invalid's, "I have not the means to make a legal guaranty; but this much I will say—so absolutely certain am I of success, that I will expend the few pounds I have with me, in a working model, provided I have your promise, in the event of my demonstrating satisfactorily the principle, to place the necessary means at my disposal for building and equipping a ship of the dimensions named. But let me repeat my assurance that such a model would be a waste of time and money. I have a large batch of evidence to prove all that I say." Here Wetherbee left his chair and hobbled about the room without his cane. He seemed to have forgotten it. Suddenly he stopped, and supporting himself by the table, while he trembled visibly, said: "What if it should fail?" "Why, in that event I should be the only loser!" answered Torrence. "But it cannot fail. I have not the slightest fear of it." The old man's excitement was contagious. Here at last was an outcome for our difficulties; a balm for every disappointment. I pictured the airship soaring over land and sea, the wonder of the age, and my brother eulogized as the genius of the century. I could hear his name upon the lips of future generations, and I imagined the skies already filled with glittering fleets from horizon to horizon. Beyond all this I saw untold wealth, and a new era of prosperity for all men. My flight of imagination was interrupted by a long drawn sigh from Wetherbee, as he murmured: "Four thousand pounds! Ah! if I could only get it!" The dream of bliss was cut short by a rude awakening. I was dismayed. What did the man mean? "If I could only get it!" he repeated with a sigh which seemed to come from the bottom of his soul. Then he hobbled back to the fire and resumed his seat. I watched Torrence, from whose face all joy had fled. He was more solemn than ever before. Again Wetherbee stared into the coals. He had forgotten his surroundings. Neither Torrence nor I spoke, in the hope that he was considering the best manner of raising the money. The silence was ominous. A clock in a corner was forever ticking out the words—"Four—thous—and—pounds." I listened until it sounded as if gifted with human intelligence. Each minute was like an hour while waiting for our host to speak, feeling that our doom hung irrevocably upon his words. Suddenly we were startled by a sharp voice in the hall: "Mr. Wetherbee, your soup is ready!" The old man pulled himself together, as if aroused from a dream; picked up his cane and tottered toward the door. At its portal he stopped, and turning half around, said: "Gentlemen, I will consider your proposition, and if I can see my way to the investment—well, I have your address—and will communicate with you. Meanwhile there is a barn in one of my fields, which is sound and roomy. It is at your disposal, and I heartily hope you will be able to raise the money for your enterprise. The barn you shall have at a nominal rent, and you will find the swamps about here to be the best locality anywhere near London for your experiments. I wish you well. Should you conclude to use the barn, let me know, and I will turn the key over to you immediately. Meanwhile I wish you luck!" He went out without another word, leaving us alone with the talkative clock, and the dead grasses of the previous summer. I glanced at Torrence, who was pale, but with an indomitable look of courage in his eyes. I had seen it before. It was impossible to say from Wetherbee's manner of departure, whether he intended to return or not. We could scarcely consider the interview ended, when we had made no movement toward going ourselves, and while deliberating what was best to do, there was a light step in the hall, and the door again opened, admitting a middle aged woman who approached us with a frown. We bowed. "May I inquire the nature of your errand?" she began, without addressing either one of us in particular; but Torrence, stepping forward, answered: "Our visit is hardly in the way of an errand, madam. We are here upon an important business engagement with Mr. Wetherbee, who I trust will soon return to give us an opportunity to continue our conversation." "I was afraid so!" she replied with a look of regret. She sat down in the same chair that Wetherbee had occupied, and asked us to resume our seats. There was something odd in her manner, which betrayed deep concern in our visit. Putting her hand in her pocket she drew out a spectacle case, and placed the glasses upon her nose. Then she looked at us each in turn with growing interest. "You need not conceal your business from me, gentlemen," she continued, "Mr. Wetherbee is my father. As you are aware, he is a very old man, and I am acting in the double capacity of nurse and guardian for him. He does nothing without my knowledge." Her manner was thoroughly earnest, and the expression of her face that of deep concern. Torrence replied after a moment's hesitation as follows: "While not for a moment doubting your statement, madam, would it not be a little more regular to ask Mr. Wetherbee's consent before speaking of a matter in which he is equally interested with ourselves? If he says so, I shall be more than willing to explain to you all that we have been talking about. Meanwhile I can only say that our business was upon a matter of great importance, which I should hardly feel at liberty to divulge without the agreement of all parties concerned." She did not answer for several minutes, during which time the hard look in her eyes softened; I even thought they were dimmed with tears. For a moment she averted her face and taking off her glasses polished them thoroughly, returning them to her pocket. Then she stared into the fire as if thinking how to proceed, and then without removing her eyes, said: "I shall not ask your business, gentlemen, but I will tell you something of mine. Mr. Wetherbee, my father, is, I am pained to confess, a monomaniac on the subject of inventions. His fortune, which once was ample, has been squandered in all manner of mechanical foolery, for I can call it by no other name. An inventor who could once gain his eye through the medium of print, or his ear, through that of speech, could wring whatever money out of him he chose. Finding that our means were becoming scattered, and our credit going, and my good father unable to see that he was imposed upon, I applied to the courts for his guardianship, on the ground of mental disability. He has no money whatever that he can call his own; the little that is left between us being at my disposal. Should you have plans requiring pecuniary aid, I must tell you frankly now, that it will be impossible to obtain it here." She stopped, and Torrence and I stared at each other aghast. "But, madam!" I exclaimed, unable to contain myself, "We have come all the way from America, and at great personal inconvenience and expense, in response to your father's letters, and should he refuse to aid us now we are ruined." "It is impossible—quite impossible, I assure you, my dear sirs, to keep track of my father's correspondence. He answers everything he finds in the papers relating to patents. It is unfortunate, deeply unfortunate, but cannot be helped. The public has repeatedly been warned against him through the newspapers, and we can do no more." "It is indeed most unfortunate," said Torrence; "but let me ask you, madam, if in the event of my being able to demonstrate, to your entire satisfaction, the inestimable value of my air ship, you could be induced to aid in its construction?" "Alas, my dear sir, I have not the means!" There was a painful silence, in which, to me, the end of all things was in sight. Mentally I ran over the account of our cash, and roughly estimated how long it would last. Much as we had abused Mrs. Twitcham's lodging, I foresaw that we should have to leave it for a worse one. "Is there, then, nothing that could induce you to take an interest in our scheme? Remember it is the invention of the century. All the railways, all the telegraphs in existence will be counted trifling by comparison when it shall be built and given commercial value. Remember also, that the insignificant sum required, will be repaid ten times over within sixty days. Remember, my dear madam, that in refusing to aid us, you are throwing away the greatest material blessing that man can possibly acquire. It is the dream of the ages—the culmination of every hope. Think well before you refuse!" I was so wrought up that I spoke more earnestly than ever before, realizing that if we failed with Wetherbee & Hart, we were outcasts. But all my enthusiasm, and all my brother's eloquence were futile. "It is not that I will not, it is that I cannot," repeated the lady, who really did not appear lacking in sympathy. or a due comprehension of the situation. "Then have you no friends," I persisted, "who might be induced to take a share in the invention, I should say discovery, for it is indeed more of a discovery than otherwise?" "Most of our friends have already lost money through my father's infatuation, or weakness, and I dare not mention the subject to any of them." We got up to go, thanking the lady for her explanation, and the interest she had shown. At the door, Torrence stopped. "I was about to forget," he said; "your father told us of a barn which he would place at our disposal, should we need it for a workshop. Is the offer still open?" The lady smiled, and said she could not refuse so simple a thing, especially when we had come so far, and had a right to expect so much. We thanked her, bade her farewell and departed. We passed again down the cemented path between the boxwood bushes, and through the iron gate. When out once more upon the open highway, Torrence turned toward me, and with an air of surprising indifference, said: "It looks as though we were checkmated, old man, but we're not. These people have only stirred up the mettle in me, and I shall build the air ship despite all of them." As I have said before, my brother was an extraordinary man; possessed of a fertile mind, an indomitable will, and withal a secretiveness which even showed itself occasionally to me. We walked on in silence; the future looked black and disheartening, I had not the courage to discuss it. It was dark when we reached the river, and the small Thames boat wended its way through innumerable lights, reflected across the water in long, trembling lines. The minutest object claimed my attention, and I fell to speculating on the mental condition of a fellow-passenger who was whistling a familiar tune at my elbow. I looked over the taffrail into the black water beneath, and wondered how it felt to drown, and how many people had tried it in these waters. I pictured their corpses still lying at the bottom, and made a rough calculation of how many years it would take to disintegrate a man's skeleton, after the fishes had eaten all the flesh off his bones. Then in the dim light I saw Torrence walking past the man who held the tiller. He did not speak, and I did not disturb him. Possibly he did not see me, at all events we walked on opposite sides of the deck, each absorbed in his own thoughts. At last we met, as if by accident, although I had purposely wandered over to his side. "Well, old man! What's the matter?" he cried with a heartiness that startled me. "Nothing," I answered; "I was only going to ask why you made that inquiry about the barn." "Because I thought it might be useful," he answered. "And for what, pray?" "Why, to build the air ship in, to be sure. Did you think I wanted it for a billiard room?" "And how can you build the air ship without Wetherbee & Hart?" I inquired. "I am not quite prepared to answer your question. But I have overcome difficulties before, and I shall overcome this one. Don't fret, Gurt! the air ship will be built." His manner was confident, and showed such indifference to the gravity of our situation, that I looked at him in amazement. There was nothing more to say, and we wandered apart again. Once more I began an exhaustive study of my surroundings—the river—the lights—the boat itself, and finally of my fellow-passengers. Thus occupied I allowed several landings to pass unheeded, when suddenly I became interested in a low but animated conversation between two men who were opposite me, the one standing, the other sitting. It was nearly dark in that part of the deck where we were, but presently the man who was sitting, shifted his position slightly to make room for the other, when they both came in range of a dimly burning lantern, and I was surprised to see that one of the men was my brother. The stranger was a rough, dirty looking sailor, and the pair, as I say, were deeply absorbed in conversation, in which they had evidently been engaged for some time. "Yes, stranger," said the sailor, "you may believe me or not as you please, but I have proof enough of what I tell you; and three times I've been locked up with lunatics for stickin' to the truth, and not lyin'." "And you say you can prove this?" inquired my brother in a low tone. "Ay, and will do it!" "It is too marvelous. You astound me! I cannot comprehend it!" said Torrence in a voice that was scarcely audible, and which I observed was purposely subdued. "And indeed you may well be all o' that, an' more too. I was good crazy for a spell when I first found it out, leastways I was nigh it, but I don't talk about it no more since they locked me up, but when I heerd you fellers a gassin' about a air ship, I 'lowed you was the kind, if ever there was any, as it wouldn't hurt to tell. For my part, it don't matter—I can't live long no way—and I hate to have that secret die with me. I'm a stoppin' down the river on the Kangaroo, she's a boat as is fitted up as a 'orspital for crippled seamen and the like. I'm tullable comfortable thar, and doubt as I'll ever anchor to any other craft for a home this side o' Davy Jones'." "But surely you'll let me see you again," said Torrence, as the man made a move to leave the boat at the landing we were approaching. "Course'n I will. I won't forgit ye," tapping his breast as if referring to a memorandum which I supposed Torrence had given him. "And I'll keep my word, too, and prove every breath I've done breathed to you to-night. Ta-ta!" The man left the boat hurriedly, and the next landing was our own. |
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