THE CLOCKWORK MAN INVESTIGATES MATTERS
I
Whatever the Clockwork man as a result of having into a world of laws and manifestations, he at least one advantage. His power of over the earth at an speed the question of almost farcical. While Allingham's car over the hills, the object of the returned by a to Great Wymering, down, and to walk up and the High Street. It was now dark, and very people to have noticed that odd along, stopping now and again to some object that his or got in his way. There is no that these he somehow to the under control, so that his progress was now muted. It is possible also that his to themselves a little to his surroundings, and that he now definitely to his85] environment. But he still relapses. And the that he again a and wig, although not his own, a word of explanation.
It was this that for the Vicar's late at the in of the church that night. He had over his until the last moment, and then off with only a pause in which to at himself in the mirror. He walked along the dark in the direction of the Templars' Hall, which was at the end of the town. Perhaps it was of his own that he noticed that other him, and in a line. He in order to allow the to pass, and on his way.
And then he stopped abruptly, aware of a on the top of his head. His and had gone! Aghast, he his steps, but there was no of the articles on the pavement. It incredible, for there was only a and he did not into anything. He had not with the stranger. Just for a moment he wondered.
But to his in the Vicar's mind, and it was not to them that he should86] catch his death of cold. He to the vicarage. For a of an hour he open drawers, cupboards, for an old that had been and a new that had been worn. He them at last and arrived, and out of temper, in the middle of the which the part of the performance.
"My dear," he gasped, as he into the seat for him next to his wife, "I couldn't help it. Someone my and wig."
"Stole them, Herbert," she expostulated. "Not them."
"Yes, them. I'll tell you Is this the Palestine picture? Oh, yes—"
II
And so the Clockwork man was able to his clock from the of a world, and the of his was by the of a and a soft hat. His must have been rapid, and he must have upon the instant. Nor did it to to him that in this world there are laws which theft. Probably, in the world from which he87] came such restrictions are unnecessary, and the would not have arisen, every being provided by with a for that and too of the in the posterior region of their craniums.
It was after this that the Clockwork man his moment of about the world of span.
He had with a lamp-post. There is no other way of his predicament. He came to with his pressed against the post, and all his to it ended in failure. His and his arms irregularly. There were explosions, like the back-firing of a petrol engine. The only person who these was P.C. Hawkins, who had been in a the of a archway.
At it did not to the that the noise from the figure. He his forward, every moment to see a come along. The noise stopped abruptly, and he that the machine must have gone up a street. Then he out of his and the Clockwork man on the shoulder88] The was now and against the lamp-post.
"You go 'ome," the constable, "I don't want to have to take you. This is one of my nights, lucky for you."
"Wallabaloo," said the Clockwork man, faintly, "Wum—Wum—"
"Yes, we know all about that," said the constable, "but you take my and go 'ome. And I don't want any neither."
The Clockwork man a soft from his teeth, and his nose against the post.
"What is this?" he enquired, presently.
"Lamp-post," the other, his teeth, "L.A.M.P.-P.O.S.T. Lamp-post."
"I see—curious, only one lamp-post, though. In my country they like trees, you know—whole of them—galaxy of lights—necessary—illuminate world."
The laughed and his moustache. His about the condition of the him slowly developed.
"You along," he persuaded, "before there's trouble. I don't want to be 'arsh with you."
"Wait," said the Clockwork man, without his position, "moment of lucidity—see as they are—begin to understand—89]finite world—only one thing at a time. Now we've got it—a place for and in its place."
"Just what I'm always telling my missus," the constable.
The Clockwork man his very slightly, and one slowly round.
"I want to things," he resumed, "I want to you. So as I can judge, I see me—a constable—minion of the law—curious relic—primitive stage of civilisation—order people about world—lock people up—finite cell."
"That's my job," the other, with a in his red eye.
"Finite world," the Clockwork man, "fixed laws—limited dimensions—essentially limited. Now, when I'm properly, I can move about in all dimensions. That is to say, in to moving and forwards, and this way and that, I can also move X and Y, and X2 and Y2."
The of the constable's a little. "Of course," he ruminated, "if you're going to into the I shall 'ave to off. I got decimals."
"Let me explain," the Clockwork man, who was in and every moment. "Supposing90] I was to you hard. You would down. You would supine. You would assume a position at right to your present perpendicularity." He at the tall of the constable. "But if you were to me, I should have an alternative. I could, for example, into the middle of next week."
The his thoughtfully, as though he this likely. "Whatdyemean by that," he demanded.
"I said next week," the other, "in order to make my meaning clear. Actually, of course, I don't time in such terms. But when one is in Rome, you know. What I to is that I am of going not only somewhere, but also somewhen."
"'Ere, that gammon," in the constable, impatiently, "s'nuff of that of talk. You come along with me." He and prepared to take action.
But at that moment, as the it to himself, it to him that there came his a of mist. The against the lamp-post looked less obvious. He did not appear now to be a at all, but a of of himself, and in91]distinct. The his and out a hand.
"Alright," he a tiny, voice, "I'm still here—I haven't gone yet—I can't go—that's what's so distressing. I don't your world, you know—and I can't to my own. Don't be with me—it's so awkward—between the and the sea."
"What's up?" the constable, startled. "What playing at? Where are you?"
"Here I am," the thin voice faintly. The and aware of a vague, mass, in the dark mouth of the archway. It was like some solid to vibration. There was a high-pitched noise.
"'Ere," said the constable, "cut that of caper. What's the little game?" He a at where he the ought to be, and his hand closed on the empty air.
"Gawd," he gasped, "it's a ghost."
He he a voice very his pardon. Again he at a and his fingers. "Strike a light," he muttered, under his breath, "this ain't good enough. It ain't92] nearly good enough." Reaching he stumbled, and to save himself from a hand against the wall. The next moment he with a yell. His hand and arm had gone clean through the shape.
"Gawd, it's spirits—that's what it is."
"It's only me," the Clockwork man, into again. "Don't be afraid. I must for my behaviour. I an experiment. I I back. You said I was to go home, you know. But I can't far." His voice a little. It like a chord. "I'm a poor, creature. You must make for me. My clock won't work properly."
He to again, his whole and shaking. Little around the part of his head. He one leg up as though to take a step forward; and then his ears wildly, and he with one leg in mid-air and a to his nose.
The gave way to panic. He with his duty. "Stow it," he begged, "I can't take you to the station like this. They'll me." He took off his and his forehead.93] "Say it's a dream, mate," he added, in a voice. "'Ow can I go 'ome to the with a like this. She'll say it's the again. It's always my luck to something like this. When the came to Bapchurch churchyard, it was me saw it first, and nobody me. You go along quietly, and we'll look over it this time."
But the Clockwork man no reply. He was in the to some in himself. Presently his on the with a bang. There a of explosions, and the next second he away.
The returned to his the arch, himself thoughtfully, and a cigarette his pocket.
"It's the gin," he ruminated, out loud, "I'll 'ave to it off. 'Tain't as though I ain't 'ad enough. I've and I shall see them again—"
He the cigarette end and out a cloud of smoke. "I see 'im," he soliloquised, "not really."
IV
Perhaps it was the of light from the half-open door of the94] Templar's Hall that the attention of the Clockwork man as he along the end of the town. He entered, and himself in a small off from the main of the hall. He must have some noise as he upon the boards, for the was back, and the Curate, who was acting as of the proceedings, came forward.
As he approached the the lamp, the upon the Curate's clean-shaven into a more of relief.
"I'm so you have come at last," he began, in a whisper, "I was to be you were going to us."
"I am late," the Clockwork man, "about eight thousand years late, so as I can judge."
The Curate to catch this remark. "Well, I'm you've up," he on, "it's so when the little ones have to be disappointed, and they have been so looking to the conjuring. Your have arrived."
"What things?" the Clockwork man.
"Your properties," said the Curate, "the95] and mice, and so forth. They came this afternoon. I had them put on the stage."
He with his watch, and then his rested for a second upon the other's gear.
"Excuse me, but you are the conjurer, aren't you?" he enquired, a anxiously.
Before the Clockwork man had time to reply to this question, the was again drawn, and an female appeared. "James, has the conjurer—Oh, yes, I see he has. Do be quick, James. The picture is nearly over."
The disappeared, and the Curate's for the moment. "Will you come this way?" he continued, and the way through a long, dark passage to the of the hall. Behind the screen, upon which the picture was being shown, there was a small space, and here a stage had been erected. Upon a small table in the centre a large and some packages. The Curate the small gas-jet so as to produce an to move about. "We must talk low," he explained, pointing to the screen in of them, "the is still showing. We shall be in about ten minutes. Can you manage in that time?"
But the Clockwork man no reply. He in the middle of the stage and slowly96] a to his nose. The Curate's returned. Something to to him as he his more closely. "You haven't been taking anything, my good man, have you? Anything of an nature?"
"Conjuring," said the Clockwork man, slowly, "obsolete of entertainment. Quickness of the hand the eye."
"Er—yes," the Curate. He laughed, hysterically, and his hands his back. "I you do the—er—usual things—gold and so out of—er—hats. The children have been so looking forward—"
He paused and his hands. The Clockwork man was looking at him very hard, and his were in their in a most fashion. There was a long pause.
"Dear me," the Curate at last, "there must be some mistake. You don't look to me like a conjurer. You see, I to Gamages, and they promised they would send a man. Naturally, I when you—"
"Gamages," the Clockwork man, "wait—I to understand—it comes to me—universal providers—cash account—nine and ninepence—nine and nine97]pence—nine and ninepence—I your pardon."
"Really!" The Curate's inches. "I must apologise. You see, I'm flurried. I have the of this upon my shoulders. It was I who the conjuring. I it would be so for the children." He started his hands together vigorously, as though to up his embarrassment. "Then—then you aren't the man from Gamages?"
"No," said the Clockwork man, with a amount of dignity, "I am the man from nowhere."
The Curate's hands still. "Oh, dear." He with the in his mind. "You're certainly—forgive me for saying it—rather an odd person. I'm we've a mistake, haven't we?"
"Wait," said the Clockwork man, as the Curate walked the door, "I to things—conjuring—"
"But are you the conjurer?" asked the Curate, back.
"Where I come from," was the reply, "we are all conjurers. We are always doing tricks."
The Curate's hands were again. "I am at a loss," he murmured.
"It was a of the of the race," said the Clockwork man, as though he were a class of students upon some subject, "that they the of legerdemain, magic, and so forth, purely as of in their hours."
"Now that interesting," the Curate, as the other paused, although for than for breath, "it's so authoritative—as though it were a from some work. All the same, and much as I should like to more—"
"It is a quotation," the Clockwork man solemnly, "from a work I was reading when I—when the thing to me. It is published by Gamages, and the price is nine and nine pence—nine and nine pence—Oh, bother—"
"I'll make a note of it," said the Curate. "But you must me now. I have so much to see to. There's the refreshments. The sandwiches are only cut—"
"It was not until the fifty-ninth century," the Clockwork man, speaking with a just click, "that man a in life. We have here an of the complete over of ideas. Ancient man for amusement; modern man as a of course. Since the99] of the clock and all that its action implies, the of at least three new dimensions, or of action, man's act of an nature may be as a of trick. Certainly our forefathers, if they see us as we are now constituted, would them as such—"
"So interesting," the Curate managed to interpose, "but I cannot the time." He had now to the diagnosis.
"The work in question," the Clockwork man, without taking any notice at all of the other's impatience, "is of a nature. Its purpose is to people to a of the many in modern life that result from a too efficiency. It is all in my head. I can it all out, word for word—"
"Not now," the Curate. "Some other time I should be to it. I am," his mouth opened very wide, "a great reader myself. And of course, as a professional conjurer, your in such a book would be two-fold."
"When you asked me if I were a conjurer," said the Clockwork man, "I at once the book. You see, it's actually in my head. That is how we read books now. We wear100] them the clock, in the of that unwind. What you have said it all to me. It to me that I am a conjurer, and that all my in this world must be in the light of magic."
The Curate's up in amazement. "Magic?" he queried, with a laugh. "Oh, we didn't for magic. Only the of hand."
"You see, I had in myself," said the Clockwork man, plaintively. "I had what I do. I was so down."
"Ah," said the Curate, kindly, "very likely that's what it is. The weather has been very trying. One these aberrations. But I do you will be able to through the performance, for the children's sake. Dear me, how did you manage to do that?"
The Curate's last was out on a note of and astonishment, for the Clockwork man, as though to his to oblige, had performed his trick.
III
Now the Curate, from a to his on occasion, was a perfectly101] normal individual. There was nothing about him. The mind is so that it can only of slowly and through the proper channels. All of ideas, intuitions, and had been dancing upon the of the Curate's brain as he noticed about his companion. But he would not have them another if it had not been for what now happened.
It would a mathematical to the with accuracy. The Curate, of course, had nothing about the Clockwork man's other performances; he had the out about the possibility of movement in other dimensions. It to him, in the light of their surroundings, that the Clockwork man's right arm into space. There was no arm there at all. Afterwards, he a moment when the arm had to and transparent; it was moving very rapidly, in some direction, neither up down, this way or that, but along some plane. Then it into nothing, from view. And just as suddenly, it into the plane of the curate's vision, and the hand at the end of it a hat.
The Curate's slowly. "But how did you do it?" he gasped. "And your arm, you know—it wasn't there!"
So as the Clockwork man's were of change, there passed across them a of and satisfaction. "I perceive," he remarked, "that I have into a world of and beings. I have the Unclocked. They cannot Nowhere. They do not Nowhen. They and move about on a single plane. Henceforth, I shall act with confidence."
He the into and produced a with parrot.
"Stop it!" the Curate gasped. "My heart, you know—I have been warned—sudden shocks." He to the and for an exit, which he to be there somewhere. He it, the door open and upon the outside.
The Clockwork man slowly and the figure. "A race," he soliloquised, with his nosewards, "half blind, and restricted in their movements. Evidently they have only a senses—five at the most." He passed out into the street, the body.103] "They have a freedom," he continued, still nursing his nose, "within narrow limits. But they soon limp. And when they down, or balance, they have no choice but to the earth."
He along, with his to one side. "I have nothing to fear," he added, "from such a of beings."
V
"Evidently," his ran on, "they must me as an being. And, of course, I am—and superior. I am a being from a breakdown."
He stopped himself abruptly, as though this view of the solved a good many problems.
"I must myself to," he mused, "because, of course, that for everything; my into this order of and my to move about in the usual, manner. And it for my just now."
He slowly, as though to return and to the curate. "I must have him," he whispered, almost audibly, "but I only wanted104] to him, and the to be handy."
He again and into the middle of the street.
"Death," he reflected, "that was death, I suppose. They still die."
