THESE astounding words were so composedly and confidently spoken as to make incredulity clash against conviction in a bewildering battle. Jack’s knees relaxed, and there was a prickly sensation over his scalp.
“Sattum!” muttered Jim. “Must be in Jersey. I never heard of it—not me!”
“Things more startling have become commonplace by use,” remarked the woman. She was about to say more, but the entrance of Terence Mayne, accompanied by Sam Paladin, interrupted her. She closed the cabinet and moved forward to receive them.
The father was too much agitated and exhausted to express himself conventionally; but the appeal of his eyes was poignant and pathetic. Sam Paladin, as always, was master of himself, and he greeted Mary Faust with urbane courtesy.
“I am this boy’s uncle; I ventured to accompany my friend Mayne on the chance that I might be of use. I hope you have good news of the young lady?”
“Your daughter is alive and well,” said Mary Faust, turning to Mayne. “But she is gone on a long journey. I would have notified you at once, but delayed in the hope of being able to fix the time of her return. That however is still uncertain.”
“Some little accident, I understand?” said Sam cheerfully.
“I will outline what took place,” she replied. “This machine combines material with spiritual forces in a way not hitherto attempted. It separates these components in man, and directs the immaterial part to any point selected; the physical body remains here, entranced, pending the reunion. Other planets of our system may thus be visited at will.”
Mayne probably understood nothing of this. Sam had followed her keenly.
“I’ve been something of a traveler myself,” he remarked, “and after bringing my explorations on this globe to an end, I adventured, through my telescope, into other fields. I had looked forward to a time when we might communicate intelligently with our planetary neighbors, but there is novelty in your plan. But supposing you to have arrived at your destination, divested of your mortal body, how would you make yourself manifest in a practical way to the mortal people out there?”
“A natural law, of which I am the discoverer, covers that difficulty,” the scientist answered. “The spirit of an inhabitant of any earth, on reaching another, is spontaneously clothed with a body proper to that globe, and, of course, endowed with its language. This has long been known to me; but only recently, and with your daughter’s assistance,” she added to Mayne, “have we succeeded in effecting actual transference from one to another.”
“How far away is my little gal gone, ma’am?” demanded Mayne, in a faltering voice.
“Whether the distance covered be a mile or millions of miles, the principle is the same, and the distance is unimportant,” she replied. “The planet Saturn, where she is now a guest, is between eight and nine hundred million miles from where we stand.”
Mayne dropped into a chair with a groan, and even Paladin arched his eyebrows. Jim, for whom such figures had no significance, was busy investigating the parts of the machine. Jack had sunk into a profound meditation, and was perhaps as remote from the circle as Miriam herself. His uncle was the first to speak.
“From what you say, I infer that Miss Mayne’s physical part is here?” he suggested.
“What happened is this,” she returned. “After Miriam’s arrival here yesterday, I was in another room for several minutes to fetch some materials. When I returned, I found her sitting in this chair, unconscious. The pointer indicated Saturn. She must have seated herself, and inadvertently pressed the lever. I signaled Saturn and learned of her safe arrival there; but neither I nor they had prepared means for her return. Since then I have been occupied with this problem.”
“Then—?” interjected Sam.
“I have made this explanation in order to prepare Mr. Mayne for what he is to see,” observed Mary Faust. “Do not attempt to touch her; she is protected by forces whose disturbance might involve grave consequences both for you and her.”
She moved to the cabinet, followed by the two elder men; Jack remained in his revery.
When the doors were opened, Mayne, with a faint cry, staggered toward the sleeping figure, but Paladin restrained him. The starlike light upon the girl’s breast, flickered as before; at long intervals a slight movement was perceptible in the chest and diaphragm, as she drew her breath.
“Respiration in Saturn is slower than with us,” Mary Faust remarked.
“What is the cause of that bluish light?” Sam inquired.
“It is the Saturnian sign,” she replied. “It indicates the connection between the spirit and its body here.”
“Don’t deceive me, woman—is she alive?” burst out Mayne, hoarsely. He was trembling like a man shaken with palsy.
“Be assured of that!” was her grave answer. “On the spiritual plane, what we call distance is but difference in mental states. Miriam is now temporarily in the Saturnian phase. Her return will be as an awakening from slumber.”
“Waken her, then!” cried the old man, passionately. “Mother of God, is there no way of undoing your devil’s work?”
Jack had drawn near the others, and now laid a hand on Mayne’s shoulder.
“Don’t be discouraged, Mr. Mayne,” he said quietly. “I’m going after her, and I’ll bring her back.”
This announcement, which the speaker’s countenance emphasized with a look of serious resolve as unbending as natural law, caused all present, including Mary Faust, to hold their breath for a moment. Then the croaking voice of Jim broke the silence.
“Dat’s de right stuff, boss! an’ I’m wid ye!”