Many Dimensions, Charles Williams [black authors fiction TXT] 📗

>gentlemen,” he went on, “or I shall have to remove myself at once. This

is not the Stone Mr. Sheldrake flung away.”

 

“Like the poor Indian,” Oliver Doncaster put in, being a little tired

of having no chance to say anything, but no one took any notice except

the Chief Justice who, glancing at Sheldrake, altered Shakespeare into

Pope by murmuring “whose untutored mind.”

 

“If the Government,” Sir Giles went on, “wish to conduct an inquiry

into the nature of the Stone I shall be happy to assist them by

supplying examples.” He covered the Stone on his knee with both hands

and apparently in some intense effort shut his eyes for a minute or

two. The inquiry looked perplexed and doubtful, and it was Chloe who

suddenly broke the silence by jumping to her feet and running round the

table. Sir Giles, hearing the movement, opened his eyes just as

Palliser thrust his chair back in Chloe’s path, and leapt up in his

turn, throwing as he did so about a dozen Stones, all exactly similar,

on to the table. Everybody jumped up in confusion, as Chloe, still

silent, caught Palliser’s chair with a vicious jerk that unbalanced and

overthrew the Professor, and sprang towards Tumulty. Sir Giles, the

Stone clasped in one hand and his open knife still in the other, met

her with a snarl. “Go to hell,” he said, and slashed out with the knife

as she caught at his wrist.

 

“Miss Burnett! Miss Burnett!” half the table cried. “Miss Burnett! Sir

Giles!” Lord Birlesmere exclaimed. Mr. Sheldrake, his mouth open in

dismay, caught up two or three of the Stones and looked at them. Lord

Arglay, leaning over the table, struck Doncaster’s shoulder sharply:

“Get that knife away from him,” he said, and himself ran round after

Chloe. Palliser, scrambling to his feet, thrust himself in Doncaster’s

way. “Lord Birlesmere,” he called. “I protest! I demand that you shall

stop this attack.”

 

“Get out, you-” Sir Giles yelled at Chloe. The knife had shut on her

fingers and blood was on her hand. But her other had already caught

Tumulty’s wrist and was struggling with his for the Stone. Lord

Arglay’s arrival did not seem materially to help her; it was Tumulty,

who, as everyone rushed to do something to end the scuffle, let go of

the Stone, slipped to one side, reached the table, and caught up one or

two of the Types which, to the Chief Justice’s hasty glance, seemed to

cover it. There were by now half a dozen bodies between Chloe and Sir

Giles, who however had only distanced a foe to meet a fidget. Sheldrake

clutched at him. “What are you doing?” he shrieked. “What are you doing

with my stone?”

 

“Lord Birlesmere,” Sir Giles said, “unless you stop that hellcat of

Arglay’s I’ll ruin everything. I’ll go off and flood the country with

Stones. I can and I will.”

 

-Lord Birlesmere said passionately, “Miss Burnett, please be quiet.

You’d better go; you’d really better go.”

 

The Chief Justice gave Chloe a handkerchief. “You attend to Tumulty,

Birlesmere,” he said. “The real proceedings are only just beginning.

All mankind has been searching for this Stone, and now the English

Government has got it.”

 

Lord Birlesmere came back to the table and stood by Sir Giles. “What

does it mean?” he said.

 

“I will tell you now,” Tumulty answered. “Anyone who has this Stone can

heal himself of all illnesses, and can move at once through space and

time, and can multiply it by dividing

it as much as he wishes. There will be no need of doctors or nurses or

railways or tubes or trams or taxis or airships or any transport—except

for heavy luggage, and I’m not sure about that—if I scatter this Stone

through the country. How do you like the idea? Look,” he said, “I’ll

show you. Will to be somewhere—in Westminster Abbey.” He thrust one of

the Types into the Foreign Secretary’s hand, who took it, looked at it,

looked at Sir Giles, hesitated, then seemed to concentrate—and suddenly

neither he nor Tumulty were there.

 

As the others jumped and gaped Arglay said to Chloe, “You can’t do any

more. They have it here. Go back home and wait for me

 

“I suppose I was a fool,” Chloe said in a low tone. “But I did so hate

to see him sitting there, and know what he was doing. And if I’d

screamed at them no one would have done anything.”

 

Arglay nodded. “It is clear,” he began, “that here—no, never mind. I’ll

tell you presently. Wait.” He stepped to the table and picked up one of

the Types. Mr. Bruce Cumberland began to say something. Lord Arglay

looked at him and went back to Chloe. “Take this,” he said. “No, take

it. Thrice is he armed, of course, but I would rather you could come to

me.”

 

“I don’t like to touch it,” Chloe looked at it in a kind of awe.

 

“To the pure all things are pure, even purity,” Lord Arglay said. “Take

it, child. And keep it near you, for I do not think we know what may

happen, but I think the Stone is on your side.”

 

“What do you mean?” Chloe asked. “On our side?”

 

“I haven’t an idea,” Lord Arglay answered. “But I think so. Now go. Go

to Lancaster Gate and wait for me. Go before the Foreign Secretary and

that Gadarene swine return.” He took her to the door, and as he

returned was met by Mr. Bruce Cumberland.

 

“Has Miss Burnett gone?” the secretary said. “I don’t know whether Lord

Birlesmere might not want her not to go before-”

 

“My dear Mr. Cumberland,” the Chief justice said, “your certainties are

as mixed as your negatives. Hasn’t Lord Birlesmere been asking her to

go in every kind of voice? And now I’ve urged her to, just to please

him. And you’re still not happy. How difficult you diplomats are!”

 

“Yes,But she took one of the Stones,” Bruce Cumberland protested —

 

“Well,” Lord Arglay said, sitting down leisurely, “I can easily make

you another—ten, twenty more. At least, I can’t, because I don’t want

to annoy Suleiman ben Daood—on whom be the Peace! as my friend the

Hajji would say. If it belongs to him. But you can make them for

yourself. What a time Giles is, showing Birlesmere the tombs in

Westminster Abbey!”

 

Bruce Cumberland gave up the argument and they waited in silence for

the return of the others. When this took place Sir Giles, with a glance

round the room and a triumphant grin at Arglay, flung himself into a

chair. Lord Birlesmere stood leaning on the table for some time. Then

he said: “I think, gentlemen, there is nothing more that can profitably

be done now. I am very much obliged to all of you.” He paused, bowed,

added something in a low voice to Mr. Sheldrake, and sat down. The

American did the same thing. Lord Arglay watched thoughtfully till the

others had withdrawn and Lord Birlesmere was looking at him restlessly.

He considered for a moment the three opposite him, and said quietly.

“No, Birlesmere; you’re like Salisbury, you’re backing the wrong horse.

And if Mr. Sheldrake wants to get his seventy thousand pounds restored

I think that he’s riding the wrong way. As for you, Tumulty, I don’t

think you know where you’re riding.” He got up and strolled slowly to

the door.

 

The important conference now began. That Sir Giles was a member of it

was due largely to the importance he seemed to have as the origin and

scientific investigator of the Stone rather than to any actual need of

him. But his impatience Prevented a good deal of time being lost in an

international wrangle, since neither Birlesmere nor Sheldrake wished

more Types to exist than could be helped, while Tumulty was entirely

reckless. All that he wanted was opportunity to inVestigate the

qualities of the Stone, without exposing himself to any serious risk of

unexpected results; and this he saw a

chance of obtaining by an understanding with the Government. But to

both of the others the monopoly of the Stone was rapidly becoming a

matter of the first importance, and under pressure from Sir Giles

something very like the first draft of a new Anglo-American treaty was

reached in half an hour or so. Sheldrake had vague personal and semi-official relations with the President, and promised to bring the whole

thing privately to his notice. With instruments of this nature at their

disposal, and a judicious use of them, he and the Foreign Secretary saw

infinite possibilities of developing power. Only one thing stood in

their way, and it was this hindrance they were anxious for Sir Giles to

remove. At present the successful use of the Stone depended entirely on

the individual will. But for purposes of national control, it was

necessary that the controllers should be able to move masses of men

without the masses having a choice. It was clear that no army which had

been supplied with Types of the Stone could be relied on. Mutiny might

be dangerous but transit of this sort would be safe and easy. For the

first time in history the weakest thing was on a level, was indeed

better off, than the strongest. Besides, as Sir Giles with a certain

glee pointed out, in war nothing but mortal wounds would be any use;

others could be healed at once, and wars would become interminable. It

was Lord Birlesmere who asked whether, if the Stone could heal so

easily, it could also repair wastage; that is, prove a substitute for

food. “But then,” he added, startled, “it would practically confer

immortality. The world would in time become over-crowded; you would be

adding without taking away.”

 

“You might,” Sir Giles said, “use it as the perfect contraceptive.”

 

Mr. Sheldrake looked down his nose. The conversation seemed to him to

be becoming obscene.

 

“Under control,” Lord Birlesmere said thoughtfully, “always, always

under control. We must find out what it can do; you must, Sir Giles.”

 

“I ask nothing better,” Sir Giles said. “But you Puritans

have always made such a fuss about vivisection, let alone human,

vivisection. “

 

“No one,” Lord Birlesmere exclaimed, “is suggesting vivisection. There

is a difference between harmless experiments and vivisection.”

 

“I can have living bodies?” Sir Giles asked.

 

“Well, there are prisons—and workhouses—and hospitals—and barracks,”

Birlesmere answered slowly. “Judiciously, of course. I mean, a careful

investigation of the possibilities.” He was distracted by Mr.

Sheldrake’s clamour for a licensed monopoly of the Stone for use in

transit.

 

It took longer to satisfy the American than the scientist. Lord

Birlesmere was perfectly willing to give up bodies to experiment, so

far as he could, but he was very reluctant to interfere with the right

of any citizen into whose possession the Stone might come, to use it as

he chose. Yet nothing else, it was clear, would be of any use.

 

The possession of the Stone would have to be made illegal. And

therefore the Types would have to be recovered. Of such Types, besides

those on the table, there were at least fourProfessor Palliser had one

(“I’ll answer for him,” Sir Giles said), Reginald Montague (“and you

can deal with him,” he added, “frightening him will do it”), Lord

Arglay, and Miss Burnett.

 

They looked at each other. It might be rather a difficult thing to

persuade the Chiefjustice to give up anything he had a right to possess

and an interest in keeping.

 

“What about a secret Order in Council?” Sheldrake soared to new heights

of romanticism.

 

“I don’t know the legal aspect,” Birlesmere muttered. “And he probably

would.