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>stone as big as the first one, and you stand gaping like a cow with the

foot-and-mouth disease.”

 

Reginald made an effort at recovery. “Yes,” he answered rather

quaveringly, “yes, of course I see that. It made me feel funny

somehow.

But—yes, of course. It’ll save any difficulty about chipping the

original, and they’ll look much better—much. Can I leave them here

to-night?”

 

“Why, you’re scared out of what wits you’ve got,” Sir Giles said. “What

about you, Arglay? Will you have one?”

 

“No,” Lord Arglay said soberly. “I think not; not to-night. I feel

rather

as if I’d been scared out of what wits I’d got, and was just getting

over

it. If I were you, Reginald, I should think a great many times before I

started that transport scheme of yours.”

 

“Eh?” said Reginald. “But surely Sir Giles is right? This’ll make it

even easier.”

 

“Just as you like,” Lord Arglay said. “I think I will go now, Tumulty.

I should like to come and see it again soon, if I may.” Sir Giles

nodded casually, and as casually bade his visitors good-night.

 

On the way back to town Lord Arglay said very little, and ignored

Reginald’s occasional outbreaks of mingled hope and nervousness. He

found himself wishing Chloe Burnett had not gone; he would have liked

to have

his own silence buttressed by another instead of harassed by a futile

and spasmodic volubility. His mind gazed blankly at the riddle of the

three Stones in an awe which he usually kept for Organic Law. There

must be some conclusion, he felt, but he couldn’t think—not yet.

“—pay even more,” he heard at his side and drove faster. “Is there no

intelligent creature about?” he thought. “I wish that girl hadn’t—no,

perhaps it’s as well. Damn it, I’m muddled.”

 

He reached his house almost at the same time that Chloe by a slower and

longer method came to her own, full of similar half-conscious anxieties

and alarms. She found, opened, and read a couple of letters that

awaited

her, and realized when she had finished that she knew nothing of their

contents, and did not particularly want to know. She put down the New

Statesman in its place on the table, took off her things, and looked

vaguely round the room. It was here then that Lord Arglay had been

during

that unbelievable and terrifying disappearance; to this the Crown of

Suleiman had transported him. The Crown of Suleiman…. the Lord Chief

Justice. Chloe Burnett. It might have happened but she didn’t believe

it; at least, except that she couldn’t disbelieve in that sharp spasm

of fear. She moved towards a chair and noticed, with a slight

annoyance,

that she had forgotten to shake the cushions up when she left the house

that evening. Or had another visitor-? Chloe dropped into the chair

where Lord Arglay had sat and burst

into tears.

Chapter Three

THE TALE OF THE END OF DESIRE

 

When Miss Burnett arrived at the Chief Justice’s house the next

morning she found him reading his correspondence in a perfectly

normal way. He

looked up to welcome her and considered her carefully. “No worse?” he

said. “Good night? Well, you missed something even more eerie.”

 

“O Lord Arglay! Nothing happened?”

 

“Something happened all right,” Arglay answered, and his face grew

grave.

“Up to last night,” he went on, “I thought Giles was monkeying about

with something, and playing tricks on Reginald for some infernal reason

of his own. But I don’t know now; I really don’t. He didn’t seem to

expect what did happen.”

 

“But, Lord Arglay! What did?”

 

The Chief Justice told her. Chloe sat gazing at him. “It multiplies

itself?” she breathed. “But it must be somethingmagical, then.

Something

unnatural.”

 

Arglay shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that,” he answered. “Atoms do

it, or electrons, or something. But I admit to having a nasty jar when

I

saw the three things all exactly alike. Somehow the sight of Reginald

producing stones of Suleiman ben Daood at the rate of two a minute with

a chisel—it didn’t seem decent. “

 

“That,” Chloe said with conviction, “is what I felt; that’s why I ran

away. Lord Arglay, could…” she hesitated, “could those

letters be real?”

 

“If they are, if the Stone is,” the ChiefJustice said, “it looks as if

it were real in another manner—more or less real than we are. No,

that’s absurd, of course. There can’t be degrees in Reality. But we

know that we can pass through space by its means—we both know that—and

I

have seen what was one become two, and then three, and lose nothing in

the process. And now this morning…” He gave her a letter, and she

read—

 

“Foreign Office,

“May 10.

 

“My Dear Chief Justice,

“I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes to-day, and if so whether

you would mind ringing up and making an appointment. Nothing to do

with you directly, but the fact is we have been approached—very

tentatively—on a little matter relating to your brother-in-law Sir

Giles Tumulty. And as, on the few occasions when I’ve met him, he

always seemed to me rather a difficult man to deal with, I thought my

way might be smoother if I could have a chat with you first. Pray

forgive me for troubling you.

 

“Yours very truly,

“J. BRUCE CUMBERLAND.”

 

Miss Burnett looked up. “You think it’s the same thing?” “

 

“I shouldn’t wonder,” Lord Arglay answered. “Of course it may not be.

Giles always seems to be conducting several lines of research at once,

some perfectly harmless and one or two perfectly loathsome. But the

F.O. has had trouble with him once or twice before—obscure troubles no

one seemed to know the rights of, except Giles who (it is said) was the

proximate cause of one Secretary’s resignation. I don’t wonder Bruce

Cumberland hesitates to tackle him.”

 

“Who is Mr. Cumberland?” Chloe asked.

 

“One of the smaller great guns there,” Arglay told her. “A Permanent

Official in many impermanent offices. But I’ve rung up already and

made an appointment for twelve. I want-”

 

There was a tap at the door and a maid came in. “Sir Giles Tumulty

would like to see you, my lord,” she said.

 

“Sir Giles-? O bring him in, bring him in,” Arglay said and met the

visitor at the door. “Hallo, Tumulty, what brings you here so early?”

he asked.

 

Sir Giles came briskly in, threw Chloe a glance, and sat down. “Three

things,” he said. “My house was burgled last night, I’m going to

Birmingham to-day, and I want to warn you, or rather other people

through you.”

 

“Burgled?” Arglay said. “Casually or deliberately? And by whom, or

don’t you know?”

 

“Of course I know,” Sir Giles said. “It’s the Embassy people; I

shouldn’t be a bit surprised to find Ali Khan did it himself. I’m only

surprised they didn’t try to tackle me. They did it pretty well on the

whole, felt under my pillow while I was trying not to snigger, and went

all over the study, got what safe there is open, and made very little

noise. I dare say I shouldn’t have heard them if I hadn’t been awake.”

 

“Did they get what they wanted?” Arglay asked.

 

“Get it?” Sir Giles almost shrieked. “Do you suppose, Argllay, that

any

set of half-caste earthworms would find anything I wanted to hide? No,

they didn’t. Suleiman and I are going off to see Palliser at

Birmingham

to-day. But I thought I’d leave one of those little fellows with you

and one with Reginald. I’ve dropped his in on him and here’s yours.” He

pulled one of the Stones from his pocket and threw it on to the table.

And now for the warning. You’re mixed up with a Whitehall crowd

of simians, Arglay, and for all I know, the Persians may be trying to

pull the strings they dance to. if you hear anything about it, tell

them to be careful. For if they try to get the Crown out of me they’ll

get more than they want. Tell them if they give me any trouble I’ll

make enough Stones to build a wall round London. I’ll sell them

at two penny to the children in the streets. I’ll set up a Woolworth’s

to show nothing but Stones. The whole population of this blasted

sink you call London shall be playing hop-scotch with them. I’ll give

them relics enough, and you tell them so. I’ve written to Ali Khan

warning him and referring him to you for confirmation.” He started to

go, and stopped. “O and if they try and get me knocked on the head

that won’t help. For I’ll leave it in proper keeping and I’ll have a

mausoleum of relics built over@ me. So they know.”

 

With which Sir Giles flung out of the room, but he was back again

before

Lord Arglay could say more than “Cheery creature! “

 

“My own advice to both of you,” he said, “is to say nothing at all

whatever leprous hooligan from the Foreign Office or the Embassy you

may be pestered with. You play your office, Arglay, and Miss Burnett

can play her sex. justice and innocence, that’s your line, though I

don’t suppose either of you’s ither.”

 

He was gone again, this time for good, and they heard the front door

close.

 

“Giles always reminds me of the old riddle,” Lord Arglay said in a

moment. “Would you rather be more abominable than you sound or sound

more abominable than you are? The answer is I would rather be neither

but I am both. And now what do we do?” He looked at his watch. “I go to

the Foreign Office,” he said, and considered. “I think, Miss Burnett,

if

anyone comes from the Persian Embassy you had better see them. Don’t

know anything; just be obliging. I’ve asked you to take any message

that

comes, to interview any callers that sort of thing. Lord Arglay was

particularly anxious—you know. I’m not sure that I oughtn’t to cut

adrift altogether, but there’s Bruce Cumberland, and, as a matter of

fact, I’m horribly curious. Well, I’ll go. I’ll tell them to show

anyone from the Embassy in to you. Goodbye, and good luck. I shall be

back to lunch.”

 

“They may want you to lunch at the Foreign Office,” Chloe suggested.

 

“Then I shan’t,” Lord Arglay said firmly. “We must talk the whole thing

over. O and this?” He picked up the Stone. “I think this shall go in

my private safe upstairs. Goodbye. You might sort out the notes for

the next chapter of Organic Law. “

 

Chloe did her best, but even the thesis of law as a growing and

developing habit of the human mind, with its corollary of the

distinction between organic consciousness expressed in law and

inorganic rules imposed from without, failed to hold her. It might be

true that the whole body of criminal law was by its nature, inorganic,

which was the point the Chief Justice had reached, though whether in

agreement or opposition she had no idea, but she could not keep her

mind away from what seemed an organism of unexpected power. “It must be

alive,” she found herself saying, and went on to ask herself, “But then

does it know? Does it know what it does and what we do to it? Who ever

heard of a living stone?” She went on, nevertheless, thinking along

that road. “Does it know what Mr. Montague is doing with it? What else

can it do? and can it do anything to us?”

 

The maid came in. “A gentleman from the Embassy is downstairs, Miss

Burnett,”

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