The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) by Arthur B. Reeve (the little red hen ebook .TXT) 📖

Part 3 Chapter 11 (The Invisible Ray) Pg 129

Tangible Investment In The Schemes That Used To Interest His

Active Mind."

 

"An Excellent Idea," Exclaimed Kennedy. "It Is Worth Trying

Anyway. It Is Still Early. Suppose We Ride Over To Brooklyn With

You. You Can Direct Us To The House And We'll Try To See Him."

 

It Was Still Light When We Mounted The High Steps Of The House Of

Mystery Across The Bridge. Mrs. Martin,  Who Met Us In The Parlour,

Proved To Be A Stunning Looking Woman With Brown Hair And

Beautiful Dark Eyes. As Far As We Could See The Old House Plainly

Showed The Change. The Furniture And Ornaments Were Of A Period

Long Past,  But Everything Was Scrupulously Neat. Hanging Over The

Old Marble Mantel Was A Painting Which Quite Evidently Was That Of

The Long Since Deceased Mrs. Haswell,  The Mother Of Grace. In

Spite Of The Hideous Style Of Dress Of The Period After The War,

She Had Evidently Been A Very Beautiful Woman With Large Masses Of

Light Chestnut Hair And Blue Eyes Which The Painter Had Succeeded

In Catching With Almost Life-Likeness For A Portrait.

 

It Took Only A Few Minutes For Kennedy,  In His Most Engaging And

Plausible Manner,  To State The Hypothetical Reason Of Our Call.

Though It Was Perfectly Self-Evident From The Start That Mrs.

Martin Would Throw Cold Water On Anything Requiring An Outlay Of

Money Craig Accomplished His Full Purpose Of Securing An Interview

With Mr. Haswell. The Invalid Lay Propped Up In Bed,  And As We

Entered He Heard Us And Turned His Sightless Eyes In Our Direction

Almost As If He Saw.

 

Kennedy Had Hardly Begun To Repeat And Elaborate The Story Which

He Had Already Told Regarding His Mythical Friend Who Had At Last

A Commercial Wireless "Televue," As He Called It On The Spur Of

The Moment,  When Jane,  The Aged Caretaker,  Announced Dr. Scott.

The New Doctor Was A Youthfully Dressed Man,  Clean-Shaven,  But

With An Undefinable Air Of Being Much Older Than His Smooth Face

Led One To Suppose. As He Had A Large Practice,  He Said,  He Would

Beg Our Pardon For Interrupting But Would Not Take Long.

 

It Needed No Great Powers Of Observation To See That The Old Man

Placed Great Reliance On His New Doctor And That The Visit Partook

Of A Social As Well As A Professional Nature. Although They Talked

Low We Could Catch Now And Then A Word Or Phrase. Dr. Scott Bent

Down And Examined The Eyes Of His Patient Casually. It Was

Difficult To Believe That They Saw Nothing,  So Bright Was The Blue

Of The Iris.

 

"Perfect Rest For The Present," The Doctor Directed,  Talking More

To Mrs. Martin Than To The Old Man. "Perfect Rest,  And Then When

His Health Is Good,  We Shall See What Can Be Done With That

Cataract."

 

He Was About To Leave,  When The Old Man Reached Up And Restrained

Him,  Taking Hold Of The Doctor's Wrist Tightly,  As If To Pull Him

Nearer In Order To Whisper To Him Without Being Overheard. Kennedy

Was Sitting In A Chair Near The Head Of The Bed,  Some Feet Away,

As The Doctor Leaned Down. Haswell,  Still Holding His Wrist,

Pulled Him Closer. I Could Not Hear What Was Said,  Though Somehow

I Had An Impression That They Were Talking About Prescott,  For It

Would Not Have Been At All Strange If The Old Man Had Been Greatly

Impressed By The Alchemist.

 

Kennedy,  I Noticed,  Had Pulled An Old Envelope From His Pocket And

Was Apparently Engaged In Jotting Down Some Notes,  Glancing Now

And Then From His Writing To The Doctor And Then To Mr. Haswell.

 

The Doctor Stood Erect In A Few Moments And Rubbed His Wrist

Thoughtfully With The Other Hand,  As If It Hurt. At The Same Time

He Smiled On Mrs. Martin. "Your Father Has A Good Deal Of Strength

Yet,  Mrs. Martin," He Remarked. "He Has A Wonderful Constitution.

I Feel Sure That We Can Pull Him Out Of This And That He Has Many,

Many Years To Live."

Part 3 Chapter 11 (The Invisible Ray) Pg 130

 

Mr. Haswell,  Who Caught The Words Eagerly,  Brightened Visibly,  And

The Doctor Passed Out. Kennedy Resumed His Description Of The

Supposed Wireless Picture Apparatus Which Was To Revolutionise The

Newspaper,  The Theatre,  And Daily Life In General. The Old Man Did

Not Seem Enthusiastic And Turned To His Daughter With Some Remark.

 

"Just At Present," Commented The Daughter,  With An Air Of

Finality,  "The Only Thing My Father Is Much Interested In Is A Way

In Which To Recover His Sight Without An Operation. He Has Just

Had A Rather Unpleasant Experience With One Inventor. I Think It

Will Be Some Time Before He Cares To Embark In Any Other Such

Schemes."

 

Kennedy And I Excused Ourselves With Appropriate Remarks Of

Disappointment. From His Preoccupied Manner It Was Impossible For

Me To Guess Whether Craig Had Accomplished His Purpose Or Not.

 

"Let Us Drop In On Dr. Burnham Since We Are Over Here," He Said

When We Had Reached The Street. "I Have Some Questions To Ask

Him."

 

The Former Physician Of Mr. Haswell Lived Not Very Far From The

House We Had Just Left. He Appeared A Little Surprised To See Us

So Soon,  But Very Interested In What Had Taken Place.

 

"Who Is This Dr. Scott?" Asked Craig When We Were Seated In The

Comfortable Leather Chairs Of The Old-Fashioned Consulting-Room.

 

"Really,  I Know No More About Him Than You Do," Replied Burnham. I

Thought I Detected A Little Of Professional Jealousy In His Tone,

Though He Went On Frankly Enough,  "I Have Made Inquiries And I Can

Find Out Nothing Except That He Is Supposed To Be A Graduate Of

Some Western Medical School And Came To This City Only A Short

Time Ago. He Has Hired A Small Office In A New Building Devoted

Entirely To Doctors And They Tell Me That He Is An Eye And Ear

Specialist,  Though I Cannot See That He Has Any Practice. Beyond

That I Know Nothing About Him."

 

"Your Friend Prescott Interests Me,  Too," Remarked Kennedy,

Changing The Subject Quickly.

 

"Oh,  He Is No Friend Of Mine," Returned The Doctor,  Fumbling In A

Drawer Of His Desk. "But I Think I Have One Of His Cards Here

Which He Gave Me When We Were Introduced Some Time Ago At Mr.

Haswell's. I Should Think It Would Be Worth While To See Him.

Although He Has No Use For Me Because I Have Neither Money Nor

Influence,  Still You Might Take This Card. Tell Him You Are From

The University,  That I Have Interested You In Him,  That You Know A

Trustee With Money To Invest--Anything You Like That Is Plausible.

When Are You Going To See Him?"

 

"The First Thing In The Morning," Replied Kennedy. "After I Have

Seen Him I Shall Drop In For Another Chat With You. Will You Be

Here?"

 

The Doctor Promised,  And We Took Our Departure.

 

Prescott's Laboratory,  Which We Found The Next Day From The

Address On The Card,  Proved To Be Situated In One Of The Streets

Near The Waterfront Under The Bridge Approach,  Where The Factories

And Warehouses Clustered Thickly. It Was With A Great Deal Of

Anticipation Of Seeing Something Happen That We Threaded Our Way

Through The Maze Of Streets With The Cobweb Structure Of The

Bridge Carrying Its Endless Succession Of Cars Arching High Over

Our Heads. We Had Nearly Reached The Place When Kennedy Paused And

Pulled Out Two Pairs Of Glasses,  Those Huge Round Tortoiseshell

Affairs.

 

"You Needn't Mind These,  Walter," He Explained. "They Are Only

Plain Glass,  That Is,  Not Ground. You Can See Through Them As Well

Part 3 Chapter 11 (The Invisible Ray) Pg 131

As Through Air. We Must Be Careful Not To Excite Suspicion.

Perhaps A Disguise Might Have Been Better,  But I Think This Will

Do. There--They Add At Least A Decade To Your Age. If You Could

See Yourself You Wouldn't Speak To Your Reflection. You Look As

Scholarly As A Chinese Mandarin. Remember,  Let Me Do The Talking

And Do Just As I Do."

 

We Had Now Entered The Shop,  Stumbled Up The Dark Stairs,  And

Presented Dr. Burnham's Card With A Word Of Explanation Along The

Lines Which He Had Suggested. Prescott,  Surrounded By His Retorts,

Crucibles,  Burettes,  And Condensers,  Received Us Much More

Graciously Than I Had Had Any Reason To Anticipate. He Was A Man

In The Late Forties,  His Face Covered With A Thick Beard,  And His

Eyes,  Which Seemed A Little Weak,  Were Helped Out With Glasses

Almost As Scholarly As Ours.

 

I Could Not Help Thinking That We Three Bespectacled Figures

Lacked Only The Flowing Robes To Be Taken For A Group Of Mediaeval

Alchemists Set Down A Few Centuries Out Of Our Time In The Murky

Light Of Prescott's Sanctum. Yet,  Though He Accepted Us At Our

Face Value,  And Began To Talk Of His Strange Discoveries There Was

None Of The Old Familiar Prating About Matrix And Flux,  Elixir,

Magisterium,  Magnum Opus,  The Mastery And The Quintessence,  Those

Alternate Names For The Philosopher's Stone Which Paracelsus,

Simon Forman,  Jerome Cardan,  And The Other Mediaeval Worthies

Indulged In. This Experience At Least Was As Up-To-Date As The

Curies,  Becquerel,  Ramsay,  And The Rest.

 

"Transmutation," Remarked Prescott,  "Was,  As You Know,  Finally

Declared To Be A Scientific Absurdity In The Eighteenth Century.

But I May Say That It Is No Longer So Regarded. I Do Not Ask You

To Believe Anything Until You Have Seen; All I Ask Is That You

Maintain The Same Open Mind Which The Most Progressive Scientists

Of To-Day Exhibit In Regard To The Subject."

 

Kennedy Had Seated Himself Some Distance From A Curious Piece Or

Rather Collection Of Apparatus Over Which Prescott Was Working. It

Consisted Of Numerous Coils And Tubes.

 

"It May Seem Strange To You,  Gentlemen," Prescott Proceeded,  "That

A Man Who Is Able To Produce Gold From,  Say,  Copper Should Be

Seeking Capital From Other People. My Best Answer To That Old

Objection Is That I Am Not Seeking Capital,  As Such. The Situation

With Me Is Simply This. Twice I Have Applied To The Patent Office

For A Patent On My Invention. They Not Only Refuse To Grant It,

But They Refuse To Consider The Application Or Even To Give Me A

Chance To Demonstrate My Process To Them. On The Other Hand,

Suppose I Try This Thing Secretly. How Can I Prevent Any One From

Learning My Trade Secret,  Leaving Me,  And Making Gold On His Own

Account? Men Will Desert As Fast As I Educate Them. Think Of The

Economic Result Of That; It Would Turn The World Topsy-Turvy. I Am

Looking For Some One Who Can Be Trusted To The Last