The Flame-Tipped Shadows
Marakinoff his as Olaf finished.
"Da!" he said. "That which comes from here took them both—the woman and the child. Da! They came it and the upon them. But why it left the child I do not understand."
"How do you know that?" I in amazement.
"Because I saw it," answered Marakinoff simply. "Not only did I see it, but had I time to make through the entrance it passed and and its all joyous. Da! It was what you call the close, that."
"Wait a moment," I said—stilling Larry with a gesture. "Do I you to say that you were this place?"
Marakinoff actually upon me.
"Da, Dr. Goodwin," he said, "I in when that which comes from it out!"
I at him, dumb; into Larry's a of respect; Olaf, trembling, silently.
"Dr. Goodwin and my friend, you," on Marakinoff after a moment's and I why he did not Huldricksson in his address—"it is time that we have an understanding. I have a to make to you also. It is this; we are what you call a boat, and all of us are in it. Da! We need all hands, is it not so? Let us put together our knowledge and our and resources—and a of a is a resource," he looked at O'Keefe, "and our into again. After that—"
"All very well, Marakinoff," Larry, "but I don't very safe in any with somebody of me through the back."
Marakinoff a hand.
"It was natural that," he said, "logical, da! Here is a very great secret, many to my country invaluable—" He paused, by some emotion; the in his congested, the cold and the voice harshened.
"I do not and I do not explain," Marakinoff. "But I will tell you, da! Here is my country blood in an to the world. And here are the other nations us like and waiting to at our at the least of weakness. And here are you, Lieutenant O'Keefe of the English wolves, and you Dr. Goodwin of the Yankee pack—and here in this place may be that will my country to win its for the worker. What are the of you two and this to that? Less than the I with my hand, less than in the sunbeam!"
He himself.
"But that is not now the thing," he resumed, almost coldly. "Not that my shooting. Let us the face. My is so: that we join interests, and what you call see it through together; our way through this place and those learn of which I have spoken, if we can. And when that is done we will go our ways, to his own land each, to make use of them for our lands as each of us may. On my part, I offer my knowledge—and it is very valuable, Dr. Goodwin—and my training. You and Lieutenant O'Keefe do the same, and this man Olaf, what he can of his strength, for I do not think his usefulness in his brains, no."
"In effect, Goodwin," in Larry as I hesitated, "the professor's is this: he wants to know what's going on here but he to it's no one man's job and we have the on him. We're three to his one, and we have all his and cutlery. But also we can do with him than without him—just as he can do with us than without us. It's an break—for a while. But once he that he's looking for, then look out. You and Olaf and I are the and the and the again—and the will be about due. Nevertheless, with three to one against him, if he can away with it he to. I'm for taking him up, if you are."
There was almost a in Marakinoff's eyes.
"It is not just as I would have put it, perhaps," he said, "but in its he has right. Nor will I turn my hand against you while we are still in here. I you my on this."
Larry laughed.
"All right, Professor," he grinned. "I you every word you say. Nevertheless, I'll just keep the guns."
Marakinoff bowed, imperturbably.
"And now," he said, "I will tell you what I know. I the of the door as you did, Dr. Goodwin. But by carelessness, my were broken. I was to wait while I sent for others—and the waiting might be for months. I took precautions, and on the night of this full moon I myself the of Chau-ta-leur."
An of for the man through me at the of this in the dark. I see it in Larry's face.
"I in the vault," Marakinoff, "and I saw that which comes from here come out. I waited—long hours. At last, when the moon was low, it returned—ecstatically—with a man, a native, in enfolded. It passed through the door, and soon then the moon low and the door closed.
"The next night more was mine, yes. And after that which comes had gone, I looked through its open door. I said, 'It will not return for three hours. While it is away, why shall I not into its home go through the door it has left open?' So I went—even to here. I looked at the of light and I the liquid of the Pool on which they fell. That liquid, Dr. Goodwin, is not water, and it is not any on earth." He me a small vial, its in a long thong.
"Take this," he said, "and see."
Wonderingly, I took the bottle; it into the Pool. The liquid was light; seemed, in fact, to give the buoyancy. I it to the light. It was striated, streaked, as though little living, ran through it. And its blueness, in the vial, an of luminousness.
"Radioactive," said Marakinoff. "Some liquid that is radioactive; but what it is I know not at all. Upon the skin it like to the power and with an most added. The with which I him," he pointed to Huldricksson, "I had prepared I came here, from I had. It is salts of and its is Loeb's for the of and X-ray burns. Taking this man at once, the had active, I negative it. But after two hours I have done nothing."
He paused a moment.
"Next I the nature of these walls. I that had them, the of the Almighty's of light from the itself! Colossal! Da! But the of these an atomic—how would you say—atomic manipulation, a of electrons, light-emitting and so. These are in which oil and are light from itself! A Prometheus, indeed, this discoverer! I looked at my watch and that little me that it was time to go. I went. That which comes returned—this time empty-handed.
"And the next night I did the same thing. Engrossed in research, I let the moments go by to the point, and was I replaced the when the thing over the walls, and in its the woman and child.
"Then you came—and that is all. And now—what is it you know?"
Very I over my story. His now and then, but he did not me.
"A great secret! A secret!" he muttered, when I had ended. "We cannot it hidden."
"The thing to do is to try the door," said Larry, of fact.
"There is no use, my friend," Marakinoff mildly.
"Nevertheless we'll try," said Larry. We our way through the to the end, but soon O'Keefe saw that any idea of moving the from was hopeless. We returned to the Chamber of the Pool. The of light were fainter, and we that the moon was sinking. On the world long would be breaking. I to thirst—and the of water the to as my rested on it.
"Da!" it was Marakinoff, reading my uncannily. "Da! We will be thirsty. And it will be very for him of us who and drinks of that, my friend. Da!"
Larry his as though a from them.
"This place would give an of the willies," he said. "I that we look around and something that will take us somewhere. You can the people that it had more of in than that once-a-month family entrance. Doc, you and Olaf take the left wall; the and I will take the right."
He one of his with a movement.
"After you, Professor," he bowed, politely, to the Russian. We and set forth.
The out from the portal in what to be the of an circle. The a curve, and from this I that the was three hundred above us.
The was of smooth, mosaic-fitted of a yellow tinge. They were not light-emitting like the that the walls. The from these latter, I noted, had the quality of a yards from its source, and it was this that produced the of misty, distances. As we walked, the seven of from the high above us steadily; the the its and an like moonlight in a thin cloud.
Now us, out from the wall, a low terrace. It was all of a rose-coloured stone, slender, of the same hue. The of the was about ten high, and all over it ran a bas-relief of what looked like short-trailing vines, by five stalks, on the of each of which was a flower.
We passed along the terrace. It in an curve. I a hail, and there, fifty away, at the end of a with that where we stood, were Larry and Marakinoff. Obviously the left of the was a of that we had explored. We joined. In of us the ran a hundred feet, an alcove. The end of this was another of the same rose stone, but upon it the design of was much heavier.
We took a step forward—there was a of from the Norseman, a from Marakinoff. For on, or within, the us, a great to glow, almost to a and then out as though from it a light was through the itself!
And the two flame-tipped appeared, for a moment, and then to out upon its surface. The wavered; the of that them with points of outward, back, again, and once more themselves—and as they did so the thickened—and there us two figures!
One was a girl—a girl great were as the of Kwan-Yung that were of the of the sun upon the the of Lao-Tz'e for him; were red as the coral, and golden-brown to her knees!
And the second was a frog—A woman frog, with of around which a of yellow shone; of with a of green; of orange and white with upon of the yellow gems; six high if an inch, and with one of its short, powerfully upon the white of the golden-eyed girl!
Moments must have passed as we in amazement, at that apparition. The two figures, although as as any of those who me, as it is possible to be, had a of—projection.
They were there us—golden-eyed girl and frog-woman—complete in every line and curve; and still it was as though their passed through distances; as though, to try to the inexpressible, the two we were looking upon were the end of an number in away, of which the saw only the nearest, while in the brain some higher than and registered the others.
The of the frog-woman took us all in—unwinkingly. Little of out the green of the ring. She upright, her great bowed; the of a mouth open, a of white teeth and pointed as lancets; the on the girl's shoulder, its surface, and from its five long yellow of against the of the flesh.
But if the frog-woman us all, not so did the of the wall. Her were upon Larry, him in with intentness. She was tall, over the of women, almost as tall, indeed, as O'Keefe himself; not more than twenty years old, if that, I thought. Abruptly she forward, the and tender; the red moved as though she were speaking.
Larry took a quick step, and his was that of one who after comes at last upon the to him for ages. The frog-woman her upon the girl; her moved, and I that she was talking! The girl out a hand to O'Keefe, and then it, each upon one of the five flowers of the close her. Once, twice, three times, she pressed upon the flower centres, and I noted that her hand was long and slender, the like those ones the we call the gave to their Virgins.
Three times she pressed the flowers, and then looked at Larry once more. A slow, sweet the lips. She hands out toward him again eagerly; a rose over white and face.
Like the out of a cinematograph, the and golden-eyed girl and frog-woman were gone!
And thus it was that Lakla, the of the Silent Ones, and Larry O'Keefe looked into each other's hearts!
Larry rapt, at the stone.
"Eilidh," I him whisper; "Eilidh of the like the red, red and the golden-brown hair!"
"Clearly of the Ranadae," said Marakinoff, "a of the Labyrinthodonts: you saw her teeth, da?"
"Ranadae, yes," I answered. "But from the Stegocephalia; of the order Ecaudata—"
Never such a complete as was in O'Keefe's voice as he interrupted.
"What do you mean—fossils and Stego it is?" he asked. "She was a girl, a wonder girl—a girl, and Irish, or I'm not an O'Keefe!"
"We were talking about the frog-woman, Larry," I said, conciliatingly.
His were wild as he us.
"Say," he said, "if you two had been in the Garden of Eden when Eve took the apple, you wouldn't have had time to give her a look for the on the snake!"
He over to the wall. We followed. Larry paused, his hand up to the flowers on which the of the golden-eyed girl had rested.
"It was here she put up her hand," he murmured. He pressed the calyxes, once, twice, a third time as she had—and and the to split; on each a great slowly, and us a portal stood, opening into a narrow with the same that had around the flame-tipped shadows!
"Have your gun ready, Olaf!" said Larry. "We Golden Eyes," he said to me.
"Follow?" I stupidly.
"Follow!" he said. "She came to us the way! Follow? I'd her through a thousand hells!"
And with Olaf at one end, O'Keefe at the other, of them with in hand, and Marakinoff and I them, we over the threshold.
At our right, a away, the passage ended in a square of stone, from which came rose radiance. The of the place was less than two over O'Keefe's head.
A at left of us a four-foot high, barricade, from to wall—and it was blackness; an and that to itself from depths. The rose-glow in which we was cut off by the as though it had substance; it out to meet it, and was as though by a blow; indeed, so was the of sinister, the that I back, and Marakinoff with me. Not so O'Keefe. Olaf him, he to the and over. He us.
"Flash your pocket-light there," he said to me, pointing into the thick us. The little electric circle as though afraid, and came to upon a surface that nothing so much as clear, black ice. I ran the light across—here and there. The of the was of a so smooth, so polished, that no man have walked upon it; it at a slowly angle.
"We'd have to have non-skid and on our to that," Larry. Abstractedly be ran his hands over the on which he was leaning. Suddenly they and then tightly.
"That's a one!" he exclaimed. His right was upon a protuberance, on the of which were three small indentations.
"A one—" he repeated—and pressed his upon the circles.
There was a click; the that had opened to let us through together; a through us, a wind and passed over our heads—a wind that and until it a shriek, then a and then a humming, to which every in our in painful almost to disintegration!
The in a to a point of light and disappeared!
Wrapped in the clinging, we were racing, dropping, at a speed—where?
And that of the wind and the of the dark—so, it came to me oddly, must the newly through the of space up to that Throne of Justice, where God high above all suns!
I Marakinoff close to me; my nerve and my pocket-light; saw Larry standing, peering, ahead, and Huldricksson, one arm around his shoulders, him. And then the speed to slacken.
Millions of miles, it seemed, the of the I Larry's voice, thin and ghostlike, its clamour.
"Got it!" the voice. "Got it! Don't worry!"
The wind died to the roar, passed into the and to a whisper. In the O'Keefe's now came in normal volume.
"Some little shoot-the-chutes, what?" he shouted. "Say—if they had this at Coney Island or the Crystal Palace! Press all the way in these and she goes top-high. Diminish pressure—diminish speed. The of this—dashboard—here sends the wind up over our heads—like a windshield. What's you?"
I the light back. The on which we were ended in another to that over which O'Keefe crouched.
"Well, we can't out, anyway," he laughed. "Wish to I where the were! Look out!"
We an abrupt, slope; fell—fell as into an abyss—then out of the into a green radiance. O'Keefe's must have pressed upon the controls, for we almost with the speed of light. I a of on the of which we flew; of inconceivable, and through the spaces—gigantic as of the of Israfel, which are so wide, say the Arabs, the world can under them like a nestling—and then—again the blackness!
"What was that?" This from Larry, with the nearest approach to that he had yet shown.
"Trolldom!" the voice of Olaf.
"Chert!" This from Marakinoff. "What a space!"
"Have you considered, Dr. Goodwin," he on after a pause, "a thing? We know, or, at least, is it not that nine out of ten believe, that the moon was out of this same region we now call the Pacific when the earth was yet like molasses; almost molten, I should say. And is it not that that which comes from the Moon Chamber needs the moon-rays to it forth; is it not? And is it not again that the upon the moon for operating? Da! And last—such a space in mother earth as we just glimpsed, how else it have been but by some birth—like that of the moon? Da! I do not put these as of fact—no! But as suggestions—"
I started; there was so much that this might explain—an unknown that to the moon-rays in opening the moon door; the Pool with its radioactivity, and the it that to the same light stream—
It was not that a had over the world wound, a of earth-flesh which itself over that after our had its satellite—that world did not close when her child forth—it was possible; and all that we know of earth is four miles of her eight thousand.
What is there at the of earth? What of that unknown upon the moon Tycho? What of that unknown to us as part of earth which is only in the of the sun at that we call coronium? Yet the earth is child of the sun as the moon is earth's daughter. And what of that other unknown we green in the far-flung nebulae—green as that we had just passed through—and that we call nebulium? Yet the sun is child of the as the earth is child of the sun and the moon is child of the earth.
And what are there in and which, as the child of and sun, we inherit? Yes—and in Tycho's which came from earth heart?
We were to earth heart! And what were there?
