The Cosmic Gun

By Morrison F. Colladay

 

HARTRIDGE was dead, and his body was not a pleasant thing to look at. I had gone with Dr. Goodrich, who is coroner's physician, to the old-fashioned house where the dead man lived alone except for a cook and a gardener who went to their homes at night. 

I had known Hartridge fairly well but not intimately. He was a lonely sort of individual who usually kept to himself. He possessed enough money to live on and he spent his time in scientific research. I judge from what I have since learned that his life was embittered by the curious way he was cheated of fame time after time because of a few weeks' delay in announcing his discoveries. 

For instance: he was working on what are now known as X-rays when Roentgen got the credit for discovering them; he had isolated a radium salt before the Curies' achieved fame; he had been investigating the mysterious, highly penetrating short rays that come from outer space for years before Millikan made his sensational announcement. 

Dr. Goodrich and I were familiar with Hartridge's most recent work because he had become, alarmed by something that happened a few days before his death and came to us for advice. We thought he was suffering from hallucinations due to overwork and argued him out of his fears. 

Now he was dead, and the condition of his body indicated that the fears we had made light of were justified. Perhaps the easiest way of explaining our part in the tragedy will be to give an account of the inquest. 

The authorities were convinced that Hartridge's death was a natural one. However, the dead man had carried a large amount of accident insurance which would accrue to the cousins who were his nearest relatives if it could be proved that he died as the result of violence and not of disease. 

It was to lay the ground for a contest in the courts that Dr. Goodrich and I were cross-examined by Patterson, the lawyer for the heirs. An inquest is a more or less informal proceeding in which the ordinary rules of evidence are often ignored. Sufficient latitude was allowed the attorney by the coroner to enable him to put on record not only the few facts we knew but the things Hartridge had told us. What I have written is from the copious notes I made during the hearing. 

 

* * * * 

 

Patterson was questioning Dr. Goodrich. "Where were you notified that Hartridge was dead, Dr. Goodrich?" 

"About nine o'clock Saturday morning." 

"What did you then do?" 

"I went to the Hartridge house to examine the body." 

"What time did you reach there?" 

"I should say, ten o'clock." 

"It took you an hour to drive a couple of miles?" 

"No. I stopped for my friend Warriner and took him with me." 

"Was there any reason for taking Mr. Warriner?" 

"I thought so. He was present a day or two before when Hartridge told me about certain experiences he had had recently which made him afraid he was going to die." 

"I presume Mr. Hartridge consulted you as a physician?" 

"He did." 

"Isn't it somewhat unusual to have a layman present at a consultation?" 

"It was informal. Hartridge knew Warriner better than any of his other neighbors —the poor fellow apparently had no intimate friends—and when he became alarmed over certain occurrences he told Warriner about them. Warriner thought Hartridge's statements indicated some sort of mental trouble and suggested that I be consulted." 

"Were you acquainted with Mr. Hartridge?" 

"No, I had never seen him before the morning I was called to Warriner's house, to the best of my knowledge." 

"You and Mr. Warriner have known each other for a long time?" 

"Yes, we've been friends for many years." 

"Did you examine Mr. Hartridge?" 

"I did." 

"What did you find?" 

"I concluded he was on the verge of a serious mental breakdown." 

"How did you reach that conclusion?" 

"As a result of my examination and of the story he told me. In fact, the story had more to do with my conclusion than his physical condition. In a great many obscure mental illnesses there are no physical changes discernible until the disease has reached an advanced stage." 

"You found Hartridge normal physically?" 

 

GOODRICH hesitated. "I should hardly care to go that far. He was in a highly nervous state." 

"I gather from what you have already testified that you now think that highly nervous state was justified?" 

"Perhaps it was. At any rate, he was killed in the way he expected to be killed." 

"Now, doctor, suppose you tell us as simply as possible exactly what it was Mr. Hartridge was afraid of?" 

Goodrich frowned. "It is a little difficult to make the poor fellow's fears sound reasonable," he objected. 

"I don't want you to try to make them seem reasonable," Patterson said patiently. "Just tell us what they were." 

"I think perhaps it will be better to give an account of that first interview with him as I remember it, and repeat the things he told me." 

"Was Mr. Warriner present during that interview?" 

"He was. Mr. Hartridge insisted he should be." 

"Well, go ahead, doctor, and tell us exactly what happened in your own words." 

"I went to Warriner's house and found Hartridge there. Warriner had made the appointment. As I said, I had never to the best of my belief seen Hartridge before, though Warriner had often spoken of him." 

"Did you know anything about him or what he was doing?" 

"More or less, of course. Hartridge was, in a way, a rather famous man among physicists. I had often wanted to meet him." 

"Go on, doctor," prompted the lawyer as Goodrich paused. 

"When I reached Warriner's house I found a badly frightened man." 

"You mean Hartridge?" 

"Yes. He was in a highly nervous state which was intensified as soon as I began to question him about his fears. Finally I administered a sedative and after it had taken effect, succeeded in getting a connected story from him."

 

WITH modern investigations into the shorter wave lengths of the electromagnetic spectrum, such as x-rays, radium rays and cosmic rays, a limitless field of conquest is opened to man. For in these unknown ultra-short waves there reside not only great sources of power and controllable energy but also potentialities for great destruction. 

The cosmic rays, for example, may be among the most potent forces that affect our lives. With their ability to penetrate sixteen feet of lead with their terrific velocity, they may have a disintegrating effect on animal tissue that may be the cause of the death by old age of all living things. On the other hand, they may be the source of a most terrible weapon of warfare, were they possible of concentration and control. Mr. Colladay, whose stories ring so with life and truth, gives us an exciting possibility that may occur with the letting loose of tremendous cosmic forces. 

 

"Yes. It was the second time he had beard it." 

"Go on, doctor." 

"I had perhaps better explain the kind of scientific work Hartridge had devoted his life to. He was an authority on X-rays and radium. In fact, he wrote several monographs which received wide recognition. During recent years he had devoted his time to an investigation of what are now known as Millikan rays. A few years ago they were not known by that name—they were not known at all. It was suspected that there were very short, highly penetrating rays which reached the earth from outer space, but nothing was known about them. Hartridge found the subject fascinating and spent the last years of his life investigating them." 

"This isn't a college lecture room, Dr. Goodrich," interrupted the coroner. "Suppose you tell us in plain words what killed Mr. Hartridge?" 

Goodrich shrugged his shoulders helplessly as Patterson jumped to his feet. "I think it most important that Dr. Goodrich be allowed to testify in his own way. This is no ordinary murder and can't he treated as if it were." 

The coroner looked startled. "Are you seriously suggesting that Mr. Hartridge was murdered?" he asked. 

"Suppose you ask Dr. Goodrich that question." 

"Very well, I shall. Er—ah—Dr. Goodrich, you consider Mr. Hartridge's death a natural one, do you not?" 

"I do not." 

The coroner stared at him and there was a stir in the courtroom. "You mean that he met with an accident?" 

"I mean there's no question in my mind that he was deliberately murdered!" 

The coroner took off his glasses and nervously wiped them on his handkerchief. There was a buzz of conversation among the spectators and the reporters present pricked up their ears and wrote industriously. Meanwhile Goodrich sat gazing somewhat belligerently at the coroner. 

That gentleman pounded on the bench with his gavel. He fixed his eyes on Dr. Goodrich. "You have testified, doctor, that you believe Mr. Hartridge was deliberately murdered. There must be a murderer where there is murder, Dr. Goodrich. Have you any suspicion as to the guilty person?" 

"I have a very definite suspicion." 

 

A Surprising Story 

 

THE coroner looked surprised. "Have you communicated this suspicion to the district attorney and the police authorities?" 

"I have." 

"Then I take it the matter is under investigation and there is prospect of an arrest?" 

"I am inclined to answer no to both questions." 

"That seems hardly possible, doctor." 

"It happens to be true. The district attorney laughed at me when I told him what had killed Hartridge and who I thought was responsible for the murder." 

"Indeed." The coroner gently tapped the bench before him with his glasses. "Suppose, doctor, leaving the question of murder aside for the moment, you tell us exactly what did kill Mr. Hartridge?" 

"Before I do that I shall have to explain briefly the nature of the Millikan rays." 

"Please answer my question," interrupted the coroner a little peevishly. "We haven't time for a scientific lecture, though I have no doubt it would be interesting." 

Goodrich frowned. "Doubtless your scientific knowledge is sufficiently extensive to comprehend the reply I must make, but certainly the jurors will not." 

 



 

The coroner sat back wearily in his chair. "All right, doctor, have it your own way, but make your testimony as brief as possible." 

Goodrich turned to the jury. "I was not casting reflections on your intelligence, gentlemen, in my remarks to the court. There are only a few thousand persons in all the world who know anything about the Millikan rays. Hartridge several years ago investigated these short rays which come from outer space with enormous penetrating power. He found that there was nothing impervious to them. A thin sheet of lead is a shield against X-rays, but the Millikan rays will penetrate from five to ten feet of that metal." 

The coroner looked meaningly at his watch but the gesture was lost on Goodrich who went on. 

"I must correct what I said a moment ago in one particular. I said that there was no substance impervious to the Millikan rays. I should have said it was supposed that there was not, until Hartridge invented his mirror. It reflected these rays and its composition was his secret. I have no idea what it is made of." 

"That's very interesting, doctor," said the coroner, "but what has it to do with Hartridge's death?" 

"I'll come to that, a little later, if I may." 

"Very well. Go on with your testimony, if you consider it relevant." 

"I am calling the machine which Hartridge invented to deflect the Millikan rays a mirror, because it is more like a mirror in its action than anything else. You gentlemen of the jury doubtless remember that when you were boys you used to reflect the rays of the sun into the eyes of unsuspecting victims with a piece of looking-glass. Well, Hartridge's machine did this for the rays. It did more than this, however. It gathered them together in a focus, just as a lens gathers together the rays of the sun so that you can kindle a fire with them. Now remember that these rays are continually bombarding every portion of the earth with tremendous force. Hartridge had invented a machine which would gather them together and direct them at any spot he desired." 

The coroner began to look interested. "You mean the machine could be used as a weapon?" 

"It is undoubtedly the most powerful weapon ever devised. With a big enough machine a city a hundred miles away could be destroyed in a few minutes." 

"You mean Mr. Hartridge had a machine at his house that could do such a thing?" 

"The machine Hartridge built was an experimental one. To destroy a distant city it would be necessary to construct a much larger machine." 

 

THE coroner looked skeptical. "I presume, Dr. Goodrich, that Mr. Hartridge told you about this machine?" 

"Yes." 

"At the time you were called in to examine his mental condition?" 

"I think I have explained that I found Mr. Hartridge as sane as you or I. Besides, I went with him to his laboratory and saw the machine itself." 

"Oh, you saw the machine, did you? Did Mr. Warriner see it?" 

"He was with me." 

"I assume you didn't see it work?" 

"Yes, we saw it work. I shall be glad to describe it in detail if the court desires me to." 

The coroner hesitated a moment. Then he said, "If this machine is of such tremendous value as a weapon, perhaps it would be wiser not to describe it in open court." 

"As you please. However, no description of mine would enable anyone to construct a similar machine. All I can do is tell what it looked like and how it worked." 

"Do you happen to know, doctor, whether the government has shown any interest in this invention?" 

"If you mean our government, no. Two foreign governments attempted to buy it from Hartridge, and I may say I am convinced that the agents of one of them murdered him to keep the machine from falling into the hands of the other. Or any other." 

"You know which two governments tried to buy the machine?" 

"I do. I think it would be hardly wise to mention them here. If you desire, I will write the names on a slip of paper for your information." 

"Never mind, for the present. Suppose you tell us of your visit to Hartridge's house." 

"I examined Hartridge in the morning, as I told you. That night Warriner and I went to his house." 

"What was the particular object of your visit—curiosity?" 

"No, I went because Hartridge had an idea that I did not fully believe his very improbable story. I saw he was sensitive about it and I agreed to go to the house and see his machine. Hartridge let us in himself. He had two or three servants, but they did not sleep on the premises. He was alone except for two big police dogs." 

"Two police dogs, eh? Were they present when Hartridge died?" 

"They were." 

"Doesn't that militate against your murder theory, doctor?" 

"I don't think so." 

The coroner raised his eyebrows. "I should consider a criminal quite reckless who attacked a man in the presence of even one police dog." 

"I neglected to mention that we found the two dogs dead with their master. What ever had killed him killed them. Their bodies were in the same condition as his." 

A rustle passed over the courtroom. The coroner's face was grave as he asked the next question. "You referred earlier in your testimony to the condition of the body of the dead man, but I have no recollection that you described it. In what way did it differ from any other body?" 

"Hartridge had been dead only a few hours when I was called. I found his body was in an advanced stage of decomposition. It was bloated to twice its natural size and almost unrecognizable." 

"Wasn't that very unusual, doctor?" 

"Most unusual. You can easily verify the fact by calling the undertaker as a witness. 

 

The Machine in the Cellar 

 

YOU said a moment ago that the two dogs were dead and their bodies in the same condition as Mr. Hartridge's?" 

"I did." 

"Where did you find the bodies of the dogs?" 

"In the room with Mr. Hartridge." 

"You judge, then, that the same agency killed them all?" 

"There's no question about it." 

"And what was that?" 

"The machine Hartridge had invented for concentrating and reflecting the Millikan rays." 

"You mean someone turned his own machine on Hartridge and killed him?" 

"Exactly." 

"I think you said that Hartridge was afraid of being killed in the way he was killed?" 

"Yes, he was. It was this fear that brought on the nervous attack about which he consulted me." 

"Why should he be afraid of a machine which he invented and controlled?" 

"The trouble was he had built two machines and one had been stolen." 

"You mean someone else has possession of one of them now?" 

"He certainly had the night Hartridge was killed, and there is every reason to believe he still has." 

. "I see," said the coroner thoughtfully. "It was after this machine was stolen that Hartridge became alarmed for fear someone would kill him." 

"Events have proved he had good reason to be alarmed." 

"Did Hartridge have any idea who had the machine?" 

"He was quite convinced that it was taken by the agent of one of the two governments which had unsuccessfully attempted to buy it." 

"Was he suspicious of one rather than the other?" 

"Yes, he was. He told me that the man he suspected had made veiled threats of personal physical harm if he refused to sell the new machine, together with all the secret formulae which would make it possible to construct similar machines." 

"Mr. Hartridge refused?" 

"He refused with considerable vigor. He said the only government which would ever have an opportunity to use the machine was his own. The emissary of the foreign government gave him a week to change his mind." 

"You say he threatened Mr. Hartridge?" 

"I understand he intimated that if his government did not possess the secret of the machines it would certainly see that no other government did. Hartridge realized, of course, that the obvious way of silence him was to kill him." 

"You were telling us," said the coroner, "of the visit you and Mr. Warriner paid to Hartridge's house." 

"Yes. He took us to his laboratory, which was in the cellar. It contained a wilderness of apparatus which I did not understand—but I have made no effort to keep up with recent revolutionary developments in physics. However, the ray machine was not in the laboratory. After carefully locking the door he unlocked another leading to a sub-basement. We accompanied him down a flight of stone stairs and found ourselves in a large underground room, bare except for an instrument in the center which looked like a half dozen search lights joined together on an upright pedestal. 

" 'Don't move from this side of the room,', said Hartridge. 'This machine is perhaps the most dangerous thing in the world today.' I suppose I looked sceptical, for he continued, 'You'll believe it before you leave here." 

"You will remember that at that time I did not know the things I have testified to today. I knew in a general way about the Millikan rays. I knew that they would pen-bombarding every part of the earth and penetrate ten feet of lead, but as they were it was hard to think of them as particularly dangerous to human beings. I said something to that effect. 

"I can't remember the exact words off Hartridge's reply, but I can give the substance of it. In the first place, a very small part of the rays that bombard the earth reach its surface. Probably ninety-nine percent of them are absorbed by the atmosphere. If a human being were able to get above the earth's atmosphere he would be destroyed instantly by these rays as he would be by an electric current of tremendous voltage. 

 

THOSE that do get to the earth don't seem to do us any harm,' I said. 

" 'How do you know?' he asked. 'If it were possible to protect ourselves from them, perhaps we should never die. They cause disintegration of tissue, and that is what death is.' 

"I'm not much interested in abstract theories and I interrupted him impatiently. `Your machine doesn't do anything, I suppose, that one can actually see?"

"He looked at me silently for a moment. `That is what I'll have to contend with,' he said half to himself. `No one will believe me without proof.' He went on to explain the theory of the machine. He showed us the lenses which gathered the rays into a focus and, reflected them in any direction. 'Come over here a minute,' he said. 'You see that hole in the wall, extending diagonally downward?' He pointed to what looked like a tube about six feet in diameter extending from the middle of the rear wall. 

" 'Keep away from it!' he exclaimed as Warriner and I peered down into its blackness. 

" 'What is it?' I asked. "

" 'That's what the machine did. I've kept it directed at that one spot.' "

" 'Where does it go?' "

"He shrugged his shoulders. 'Thousands of miles, probably. Right through the earth, for all I know.' "

"About that time I began to wonder whether he wasn't really crazy, after all. He must have realized what I was thinking. `I'll show you,' he said. 'You go over to the other side of the room again.' 

"He pulled a lever which as far as I could see shifted what he called the lenses. I'm not sure I can describe what occurred. If I don't make it clear you can call Warriner and let him tell what he saw." 

"You both saw the same things, didn't you?" asked the coroner. 

"Persons never see objective realities. What they see is the reaction of the visual centers in the brain to nerve impulses from the retina of the eye." 

The coroner sighed: "Suppose we take that for granted. Tell us what your reactions were." 

"As soon as Hartridge pulled the lever the machine was bathed in a violet glow rather like the light you see in the tubes of neon advertising signs. I was so much interested in this effect that at first I didn't notice the tunnel through the wall. Warriner called my attention to it. It was as if a cylinder of incandescence, itself invisible, extended from the machine. I felt as if I were looking down a glowing, pulsating tunnel of light for hundreds of miles. 

" 'I'm afraid to run it anywhere else,' said Hartridge. "

" 'What would it do?' I asked. "

" 'Destroy everything in its path, as it has here.' "

" 'Can't you regulate the power?' I asked. "

"He nodded. 'I can diffuse the rays instead of concentrating them.' "

" `I'd like to see the effect of weak rays on animal tissues,' I said. 'I'll be able to tell better then whether the experience you had last night was imaginary or not.' 

" 'I think I can manage that,' Hartridge said. 'I went out with my gun for a couple of hours this afternoon to steady my nerves. I got a couple of rabbits for tomorrow's dinner. We'll devote one of them to science.' 

"He shut off the machine and went upstairs. A few minutes later he came back with the rabbit. He tied a cord to one leg and fastened the other end to a hook so the animal hung about the center of the tunnel opening in the wall. 'First,' he said, `I'll deflect the rays in normal strength against the rabbit, simply changing their direction from vertical to horizontal . . . You see, nothing happens. Rabbits' bodies are accustomed to the rays, just as ours are. Now I'll gradually concentrate them.' 

 

Death By Degrees 

 

THE body of the rabbit began to glow as if there were a light inside it. First it was reddish and then it became violet. 

"Turn off the rays,' I said a few minutes later. "

"As soon as the machine was stopped I examined the rabbit. When Hartridge hung it up it had been cold from being in the refrigerator. Now it was hot. As I looked it began to swell. In ten minutes it was double its original size and there was every sign of unbelievably rapid decomposition. When I touched it, it fell to the floor, a half liquid mass of decay. 

"Hartridge was staring white-faced at the unpleasant mess on the floor. He turned to me. 'You see, doctor, I wasn't imagining things,' he said." 

"What did he mean by that?" asked the coroner. 

"When Hartridge had me examine him that morning at Mr. Warriner's house, he believed that he was already dead." 

There was a murmur of astonishment from the crowd and the coroner's jaw dropped. "Believed he was dead!" he repeated. "You mean he was crazy?" 

"I have already testified that Hartridge was perfectly sane. However, I am not at all sure he was not to all intents and purposes a dead man when I examined him." 

The coroner flushed angrily. "How can a man be dead when he's alive? It's absurd!" 

"Perhaps I can make clear what I mean. There are certain slow-acting poisons for which there is no antidote. After a man has taken one of these poisons he is practically a dead man, though he may be a week in dying. In that sense I believe Hartridge was dead. I believe his tissues had begun to disintegrate under the effect of the rays and his body was even then slowly decomposing. That was what Hartridge himself thought and the reason he came to me for an examination." 

"But you have testified that he was all right physically and only the victim of a nervous attack." 

"That was what I believed at the time." 

"How long had this been going on?" 

"It began the night after the ray machine was stolen. That night, Hartridge first noticed the vibrations when he went down into the sub-cellar." 

"How long before his death was this?" 

Dr. Goodrich took a slip of paper from his wallet. "I've noted down the chronology of the case, as far as I've been able to determine it. This is Monday. Hartridge died some time Friday night. It was exactly one week previously, on Friday night, that the ray machine was stolen. Hartridge felt the first effect of the vibrations on going into the laboratory Saturday night. He was not certain that he was not imagining their effect and he thought there was a possibility that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from overwork. Sunday and Monday night he did not notice them. Tuesday night they bored him considerably. The crisis came Wednesday night when he entered the laboratory. He had turned to lock the door as he always did, when he heard the thrumming which he had noticed both Saturday and Tuesday nights, but immensely louder." 

"What was this thrumming?" asked the coroner. "You haven't mentioned it before." 

"Hartridge said it was a little like the wind in telegraph wires and also like the buzzing of millions of bees. He was not sure whether it actually existed as a sound or was an effect of the disintegrating action of the rays on the body." 

"He didn't see anything?" 

Goodrich shook his head. "I asked him about that. He said there were no visual sensations any of the three nights." 

 

THE coroner turned to the jury. "Dr. Goodrich is trying to tell you in his scientific way that Mr. Hartridge saw nothing. 

"Thank you," said Goodrich. "I asked Hartridge to describe his sensations. The first night, he said, they were not unpleasant. It was a little as if his entire body were being shaken by an extremely rapid vibrator." He turned to the jury. 

"You gentlemen have doubtless seen the machines used in gymnasia and also, I believe, in beauty shops? Well, it was the sort of sensation they give that he first experienced. The second night the vibrations were so much stronger that they were decidedly painful. He said it was as if his brain and nerves and muscles were being torn apart. However, it was not until after Wednesday night's experience, the third, that he became convinced that he was either going crazy or being slowly murdered." 

"What happened Wednesday night?" asked the coroner as Dr. Goodrich paused. 

"Hartridge could only guess." 

"What do you mean?" 

"He told me," said Goodrich slowly, "that when he turned to lock the door he heard the thrumming sound, but vastly louder than it had been before. He was startled and tried to reopen the door. Before he could escape something happened to him. He said if felt as if he had been enveloped in a force that was tearing him to pieces. He couldn't move, and the agony was so great that he lost consciousness." 

At this moment there was a sudden commotion in the rear of the courtroom. People got to their feet and at first we could not see what was going on. The coroner pounded with his gavel until quiet was restored. He gazed sternly at two men who had a third handcuffed between them. "Is it necessary to make arrests during an inquest?" he demanded. 

"We're' arresting this man for murder," said Moloney, the chief of the detective bureau. "Couldn't take a chance on him gettin' away." 

"What's the case?" 

"This Hartridge case you're holdin' the inquest on." 

The coroner peered over his glasses at the sullen-faced man between the two detectives. "Indeed. You have some evidence you want to present?" 

"Not yet. We're asking you to adjourn the inquest until day after tomorrow." 

The spectators began to drift reluctantly from the room. Moloney came over to Goodrich and me. "We've got orders to guard the machine in Hartridge's laboratory and raid the house next door where this guy Benz has been staying. 

"Benz?" I repeated. 

"That guy we just arrested." 

"Better not do any fooling with Hartridge's machine," advised Goodrich. 

"I want you two to come along with us," said Moloney. 

"What do you want us for?" 

"To keep us from making any fool mistakes." 

 

The Power of the Ray 

 

WE went first to Hartridge's house. Policemen were keeping curiosity seekers moving. Plain clothes men were scattered around watching for suspicious characters. 

"It took you a long time to get started," remarked Goodrich, "but you seem to be making a thorough job of it." 

"It's not only my men," said Moloney. "They musta sent every government dick in a thousand miles here. They're thicker'n flies and none of 'em knowin' what to do first, any more'n we do." 

"What are you doing, by the way?" 

"Just keepin' guard over that machine and seein' nobody goes in the house or the one next door." 

"You haven't got any men down in the cellar where the machine is, have you?" 

"Sure, and they got machine guns." 

"Get them out as fast as you can!" 

"Can't do that, Dr. Goodrich. We got orders to see that the machine ain't touched." 

"How many men are down there?" 

"Six." 

"Come on," said Goodrich. He ran toward the house and we followed him. There was a little difficulty getting past the guards at the door until Moloney explained who we were. 

"What about those men down in the sub-cellar?" asked Goodrich. "When did you see them last?" 

"They got orders to stay down there till they're relieved," replied one of the detectives. 

Goodrich stared down the stairs leading to the laboratory. A detective was lounging there in one of Hartridge's easy chairs. "Everything all right there, Murphy?" called Moloney. 

"Everything quiet here so far, Chief, except that hum you hear. Seems to come from down where the machine is." 

When we listened we could hear a sound like bees in a clover field. Goodrich frowned. "I'm afraid it's too late, Moloney. All the men down there are probably dead by this time." 

"You mean the machine got 'em?" Goodrich nodded. Moloney started down the stairs, but Goodrich stopped him. "Want to die the way Hartridge did?"

"We got to do something for those poor devils penned in down there, ain't we?" Goodrich shook his head. "There's nothing we can do as long as we hear that humming, except get killed ourselves." 

We waited for half an hour after the humming stopped. Then we started down the stone stairs leading to the lower chamber. The metal door at the entrance was closed but not locked. When, we opened it we saw six bodies lying on the floor where they had fallen. 

"Get stretchers," ordered Goodrich, "and take them out as quickly as you can. There's nothing to keep the men who have the machine from turning it on again and getting the rest of us." 

The bodies were already unrecognizable, and it was difficult to lift them to the stretchers without their falling apart. Rumors that something was wrong had spread in the neighborhood and a great crowd was pushing against the ropes the police had stretched, when the first of the bodies was carried from the house. 

After the undertaker's wagons had driven off Moloney faced us, pale and grim. "You know any way of finding the gang that murdered my boys?" he demanded. 

"Find anything suspicious next door?" asked Goodrich. 

"Not a thing, nobody there, either. Want to go over and see for yourself?" 

"I don't believe it's worth while." 

"What's to prevent them guys from turning that machine on us now?" 

"Nothing, if they want to." 

"We got to find it," said Moloney. "How're we goin' to do it?" 

"If you could make that fellow Benz talk—" suggested Goodrich. 

"Think he knows anything?" 

"He's the man who warned Hartridge what would happen to him if he didn't sell the machine." 

"Why didn't you say so before?" roared Moloney. "We only pulled him in because he was seen coming out of the house next door. It was a bluff about holding him for the murder, because we didn't have anything to hold him on." 

"I don't believe he'll talk," said Goodrich. 

"Six of my men have been killed down there!" 

"But he was in jail, so he didn't do it." 

"We'll make him talk all the same. Where'll you be when I get back?" 

"We'll hang around here awhile, in case anything turns up." 

"I won't be away long," said Moloney. "You come, Murphy. I'll need you." 

 

TWO hours passed slowly while we waited for Moloney. When he reappeared several men in uniform were with him. His face was grim. "I phoned the governor and he's ordered out the militia." 

"What good is that going to do?" asked Goodrich impatiently. 

"You don't know what we're up against. They're going to try to steal the big machine tonight." 

"Benz talked, did he?" 

"He's a tough guy all right," said Moloney half admiringly. 

"How did you persuade him?" 

"There was something wrong with that guy's teeth." 

"What did you do, pull them out?" 

Moloney looked at us reproachfully. "Nothin' crude like that. We had the dentist there and everything. He ground two or three of 'em down with a nice rough burr." 

"Helped him to talk, did it?" 

"Sure. He wanted to talk when the doc started on the third tooth." 

"The newspapers will get after you some time, Moloney," Goodrich warned him. "You can't get away with that sort of stuff." 

Moloney flushed darkly. "I'd of cut that guy in little pieces if he hadn't talked. Six of the boys murdered today, an' mebbe more tonight!" 

"You're wasting time, if you know anything. What did he tell you?" 

"I ain't wasting time. The militia will be here in an hour and a gang of laborers." 

"What are you going to do, tear down the house?" 

"That guy says there's an underground passage between this house and the one next door. That's how they stole the machine and that's how they're goin' to try to get the other one tonight. I'm goin' to have the militia surround the block and then set the laborers diggin'. We'll catch 'em like rats in a trap. No chance of any of 'em gettin' away." 

"No? What did Benz say about the way Hartridge was killed?" 

"He said they turned the ray machine on him, the one they stole." 

"And that's what they did this afternoon, of course, when your six men died. Now you're going to dig them out." 

"What's the matter with that?" demanded Moloney aggressively. 

"Suppose they turn the ray machine on your diggers? Nothing to stop their doing it, is there?" 

"We got to take a chance," said Moloney stubbornly. "We can't let 'em get that big machine." 

"Did you find out where the entrance to the tunnel is?" 

"Under the stairway in the sub-cellar, Benz said. Think we can rush it?" 

"Don't be a fool. How far would we get before they had the machine going?" 

 

The Great Duel 

 

THE Hartridge house stood back about twenty-five feet from the street and we had been talking to Moloney at the front gate. He turned and looked down the street. "Here come the soldiers now. What we better do with 'em?" 

"Station them around the block just as you intended and then come back here." 

"What about the men I got to do the diggin'?" 

"Send them away. Instruct the soldiers to warn everyone out of the houses along this side of the street. Tell them to have everybody out in fifteen minutes." 

"It's pretty late," said Moloney. "A lot of 'em will be in bed." 

"Get them out," Goodrich insisted. "Fifteen minutes at the outside. If they take time to dress, the chances are they'll look like those six men we carried upstairs this afternoon." 

Moloney hurried away. The men in uniform who had come with him had been joined by others now. Moloney held a hasty consultation with them and then came back to where we were waiting. "Say, what's the idea anyway?" he asked. "What're you goin' to do, doc?" 

"Warriner and I are going down to the sub-cellar where the big ray machine is and I shall start it going if I can. I'll try to regulate it so there won't be any danger to anyone on the surface, but I can't be sure about it, of course. I'll direct the beam at the space under the stairs." 

Moloney stared at him. "That'll burn 'em up!" 

"It certainly will, if they're there." "I'll go with you," he said. 

Goodrich shrugged his shoulders. "All right, if you want to. You know they may get us before we get them." 

The detectives and police had been withdrawn from the house after the tragedy in the afternoon. Goodrich switched on the lights as we entered the hall. He wasted no time in the cellar laboratory, but started down the stone steps leading to the sub-cellar. The door was standing open as it had been left by the men carrying out the bodies in the afternoon. The electric lights had not been turned off. 

The ray machine stood on its revolving platform with its projector, facing the tunnel it had carved out of the earth. The three of us stood on the bottom step gazing into the low room which might easily become our tomb in the next five minutes. 

"Keep close behind me," said Goodrich in a tense whisper. "Don't take any chances. Now!" 

He ran across the cellar to the machine. "Take hold of the platform," he said. "We've got to turn it." A second later the, machine was pointed toward the stairs. 

He leaped on the platform and pulled two or three levers. Immediately the machine was surrounded by a violet glow as the incandescent column from the projector cut its way through the stone, stairs and the earth beyond. We could see down a long vista of disintegrating matter, but there was no sign of an underground passage or chamber. 

The large ray machine was noiseless. Now as we watched its incandescent column penetrating into the bowels of the earth we heard the dreaded thrumming sound. We both realized at the same instant what was happening. Our machine was not directed at the right spot. The men we were after had started their machine. They knew exactly where we were. We probably had only a few seconds to live. 

"Quick!" shouted Goodrich, jumping from the platform. "Help me turn it again." 

 

AS the thrumming grew louder we swung the projector around to the other side of the stone stairway. 

Something happened at this instant which I am unable adequately to describe. Goodrich and Moloney confess themselves equally helpless. I remember seeing the incandescence cut a path for itself as we turned the platform. The effect was a little like that of directing a blow torch at a snow bank. When it reached the other side of the stairway the thing happened. 

Goodrich's explanation of it sounds reasonable to me. We had finally struck the passage way and the underground chamber. The men we were after had already started the stolen machine whose thrumming we had heard, with the idea of destroying us. The rays of our more powerful machine, concentrated by the lenses, met the rays of the smaller machine. 

We all had the impression that there was a tremendous explosion. As no explosion was heard by anyone in the neighborhood, the effect must have been a subjective one. We all saw a great flash of light through which millions of fiery worms seemed to be writhing. That is as near as I can come to describing the overpowering experiences which resulted in unconsciousness for all of us a few seconds later. The last thing I remember is seeing Goodrich, reach for the levers of the machine. 

Afterward we decided that we were not unconscious long, and we all recovered about the same time. Where the stairs had been was a great hole four feet high and fifteen feet across. There was nothing visible in the blackness of its interior. 

"We'll have to find 'out what's happened," said Goodrich. "Feel well enough to come along?" 

"I feel all right," I answered. 

Goodrich took Moloney's torch and went ahead. Just inside the hole we found fragments of the stolen ray machine. Beside it were two human bodies and in a large chamber beyond we found ten more. They were all black and swelling rapidly. 

"No chance of identifying them," said Goodrich. 

"Not a chance." 

"There'll be a lot of explaining to do." "It's a pity the bodies weren't destroyed altogether," I said. 

Goodrich looked thoughtful. "If we turned on the machine for a few minutes longer they'd be gone, I suppose." 

We agreed with Moloney to say nothing of what had happened in the sub-cellar. There were mysterious rumors, of course, but no attention was paid to them by the newspapers. The Hartridge house was closed up by the authorities and afterward purchased from the heirs by the government. 

To this day no one knows positively who was responsible for stealing the ray machine and using it to murder Hartridge and the detectives. We know, of course, which foreign ambassador had been suspected by Hartridge. The day after the tragic events in the sub-cellar the authorities tried to get in touch with him. It was stated at the embassy that he had gone out of town and the date of his return uncertain. Other high officials of the embassy, including the military and naval attaches, were similarly absent. 

It is not known whether they ever returned. In fact, a great deal of mystery hangs over the appointment some weeks later of a new ambassador. Announcement was made of the recall of the previous ambassador, but no record exists of his having applied to the state department for his passports. 

The government's lack of interest in Hartridge's invention has since his death been atoned for. After the next war, when the necessity for secrecy is no longer a factor, doubtless a monument will be erected to him. Incidentally, that next war has been indefinitely postponed because certain foreign governments have at least an inkling of the nature of the weapon Hartridge bequeathed to his country. 

 

THE END