TORPEON, after receiving the signal that Miriam wished to speak with him, was on his way down the main staircase of the castle when he met a servant hurrying in the opposite direction. The man, at the sight of him, stopped and made his obeisance. He was panting and evidently frightened.
“Well,” said Torpeon, with a note of stern interrogation.
“Gracious prince,” faltered the man, “it has fallen into the river!”
Torpeon was silent for a moment, frowning upon the messenger. “What is this?”
“No. 19, Supreme One! The bank fell in and the laboratory went with it!”
It may be observed that the castle stood on a high point of ground on the broad delta between the two largest rivers that emptied into the Bitter Sea. On streets radiating from it were the houses of the capital city of Tor; they were of uniform design and moderate size; each enclosed a central court, in which the inhabitants spent their days and pursued their occupations; the rooms were used for sleeping only. All the dwellings were connected by a system of vibratory transmitters, centering in a receiving-station in the basement of the castle, enabling Torpeon to issue orders to any household or to obtain information of its activities when he pleased. Beyond the circumference of the city proper, which was of no great area, were the laboratories, twenty-seven in number, constructed along the banks of the two rivers, and isolated from the approach of any person not employed in them. They were carefully guarded, and the nature of the industries carried on in them was never allowed to transpire. The precautions taken made any intrusion upon the workers, or interference with their operations, practically impossible. So, at least, Torpeon had believed.
Of these laboratories No. 19 was at this time engaged in an important part of the complicated scheme which Torpeon was prosecuting. Outwardly, it had the aspect of a dome, or hemisphere, of steel, with foundations in the solid rock. Such strength was required, not so much for protection against attack from without, as to secure it against disturbance from the experiments carried on within. Some of these would have shaken to pieces any building of ordinary design and materials.
“You know the penalty for false reports?” said Torpeon quietly.
The man’s teeth chattered. The form of torture referred to was searching enough to deter the most reckless liar. But he stuck to his story.
“It is truth, Mightiness,” he quavered. “The rock was undermined, and—”
“Come with me,” Torpeon interrupted. “Speak to no one. If you are confirmed, I will promote you; if not—” He made a gesture sufficiently explanatory.
He led the way back to his private chamber, postponing for the time his conference with Miriam. A glance at the pentagonal plate as he entered the room was enough to show him that the report had been no flight of imagination. He seated himself at the table and concentrated all his faculties upon the situation.
The indicator for No. 19 was wavering loosely back and forth, and responded to no efforts to extract information. He tested No. 20. After a short interval the sign of attention was received. “Has anything unusual occurred?” he asked, in a tone which he divested of any emotion.
Rapidly and confusedly the message was poured into his ear from the annunciator:
“Assistant on the way with full details. The collapse was sudden and complete. No. 19; also a shock in No. 7 and instruments displaced. Does not appear to be seismic. Sheer cleavage of rock between us and No. 19. Building overset in bed of river. Operators drowned. No explosive sounds. Guards report no one seen in neighborhood. Selections of stations indicates design. Circuit interrupted. Fear further disturbances. No. 5—” There was a break, and then, faintly and agitatedly, “Your presence seems urgent.”
Torpeon rose from the table. He moved a lever, which disconnected the plate and closed the annunciator. His bearing was composed, and he smiled nonchalantly upon the trembling servant who had been standing beside the doorway.
“You were partly correct,” he said adjusting his mantle and taking up a short truncheon from a shelf beside the table. He detached from it a metal ring, stamped with the device of a triangle within a square. “Take this to the captain of the guard—it is your warrant of authority—and tell him to hold a hundred men in readiness. The matter is of slight importance, but we may have to enforce a little discipline. After delivering the order, return here, and keep watch outside this door till I come back. If any one attempts to enter, put him under arrest. If he resists, kill him. Give no information and answer no questions. Have you understood me?”
“Yes, gracious prince!”
Motioning the man to precede him, he closed the door behind them; the messenger hurried away on his errand, and Torpeon departed with a leisurely step down the corridor.
Never before, however, had the Prince of Tor felt such consternation as now. He was being attacked by an enemy who seemed to be cognizant of his plans, and who was able to overcome his precautions and produce inexplicable results. He could not doubt that Lamara must be the unseen power behind the attack, and that she meant to defeat his great enterprise. How she had divined his purpose he could only conjecture; and he was amazed that she had so far departed from traditional Saturnian custom as to undertake offensive operations. He had not counted upon such an innovation, and could not estimate her resources. That they might prove superior to his own seemed not improbable. She had already annulled the painfully devised measures by which he had believed his undertaking could be secretly carried out, and he be beyond reach of pursuit or hindrance before it was discovered.
Nevertheless he would not admit failure. If he were prevented from prosecuting his first plan, there was yet a desperate alternative left. Nor would he surrender Miriam. If the end of all things earthly were to come for him, she would perish with him. And perhaps, with her as a hostage, he might be able to parley with the enemy, and obtain terms which his unaided power was inadequate to secure. But, at best, the outlook was dark.
He left the castle by a private way, and was conveyed by an instantaneous subterranean route to the scene of the disaster to the laboratories. The spectacle was even more sinister than he anticipated.
The volume of water rushing down the river-bed was much greater than ever before, dark in color, and sweeping with it huge masses of drift and wreckage. Whirlpools had been formed at various points, which sucked in and again tossed aloft fragments of buildings and bodies of animals, some human ones among them. The ruins of No. 19 formed a sort of island in the midst of the headlong stream, against which it raged like a snarling wild beast, gnawing at it with its foaming fangs, and ever and anon tearing shreds of it away. The rocky headland on which No. 20 stood had been partly undermined, and the structure was held at a slant, threatening momentarily to subside altogether. Nos. 7 and 5 were out of sight round a bend of the river, but there was no reason to suppose that their plight was better than the others. The long-sought results of Toridian science were brought to naught.
The wild-looking figure of a man appeared round the headland of No. 20, and came running in Torpeon’s direction, tossing up his arms and shouting insanely. He was half naked, bony and hairy, and swung a sling in his hand. On catching sight of Torpeon he halted, and at first turned to flee; but, taking courage, faced about again, and snatching a sharp-cornered stone from his girdle sent it whizzing at the prince from his sling. Torpeon raised the truncheon that he carried, and the stone was deflected from its course and fell harmlessly. The man started to escape, but the truncheon, pointed at him, took the power from his legs, and he fell to the ground.
Torpeon went up to him as he lay groveling, and turned him over with his foot.
“So this is my friend, Krotox!” he said with a low chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to meet with you again so soon!”
“Sublime prince, spare me!” whimpered the creature. “I have done nothing. I will reveal all I know!”
“I should be sorry to give you that trouble,” Torpeon replied. “But I am looking for reports from No. 19; I will send you to hasten them.”
He took up the wriggling wretch by a leg and arm and carried him to the brink of the torrent. Krotox shrieked and chattered like a hyena. The prince swung him to and fro and far out into the turmoil of waters. The current snatched him, and in a moment dashed his head against an abutment of the steel dome. Torpeon watched the dead body drift downward, revolve in an eddy, and pass out of sight.
“Can it be Lamara who uses such instruments?” he muttered. “If this be a mere insurrection of the exiles, there is more hope than I feared.”
He turned and strode away toward No. 20.