Many Dimensions, page 18
"Yes, but Mr. Clerishaw wants a great deal of publicity, Mr. Garterr Browne smiled. "O a very great deal. He objects to any kind of secrecy."
Mr. Merridew settled himself firmly in his chair. "And why?" he asked, very much as a General Secretary should.
The Mayor turned on him. 'Great God, sir," he said almost fiercely, "do you want to condemn thousands of men and women to suffering?"
"I don't," Merridew said, "and because I don't I want the Stone withdrawn from ... from circulation."
"Don't you know," the Mayor cried out, "that there are those well and happy to-day who have been in pain and grief for years-all by the healing powers of this Stone?"
"O you mean the people at Rich?" Merridew exclaimed. He had entirely forgotten, in his concern with transport, the virtues of the Stone which had caused so much disturbance in Rich during the week-end. But his phrase sounded as if he relegated the people at Rich to sickness or health indifferently, and the Mayor took a step forward.
"I speak for the people at Rich," he said, "for I am the Mayor of Rich. By what right do you speak and for whom?"
"I speak," Merridew answered, sincerely if somewhat habitually moved, "for the sons of Martha." He had found Mr. Kipling's poem of the greatest use in emotional speeches from the platform; that and some of Mr. Masefield's verses were his favourite peroiations. But the Mayor, not having read much modern verse, was merely astonished.
"For what?" he asked.
'For the sailor, the stoker of steamers, the man with the clout,' " murmured the Home Secretary, who had heard Mr. Merridew before. "For the workers-some of them anyhow."
"And what have the workers to lose because of the Stone?" the Mayor asked. "Are not they also the people?"
"Of course they're the people," the General Secretary exclaimed, "they are the people. And are they to lose their livelihood because of a few cures?"
"Perhaps," the Home Secretary put in, "you haven't realized, Mr. Mayor, that this very interesting Stone has other qualities, so I am told, besides the curative. In short. . . ."
He gave a brief explanation of those qualities. The Mayor listened frowning.
"But I confess," Mr. Garterr Browne ended, "I didn't know that these facts-these apparent facts-would have reached Mr. Merridew so soon. However, as it is-" He got courteously off the storm, and signed to it to go ahead.
"That," Merridew said, "is my case. If it's some scientific invention, as I suppose it is, it ought to be State property, and its introduction into the economic life of the country must be only brought about very, very gradually."
"While the poor die in misery," the Mayor commented.
"Damn it, sir," Mr. Merridew exclaimed, "I am speaking for the poor."
"For the sick and dying?" the Mayor asked. "For the blind and the paralytic and the agonized? Do as you will about economics-but the body is more than raiment."
"Not without raiment-not for long," Mr. Garterr Browne said. "But go on with the discussion. What were you about to say, Mr. Secretary?"
"I protest against the way my words are twisted," Merridew cried. "I've no possible objection to the medicinal use of the Stone."
"Nor I to its economic suppression," the Mayor answered and they both looked at Mr. Garterr Browne.
"Beautiful," the Minister breathed. "When democracy lies down with democracy.... And how, gentlemen, do you propose to use the Stone all over the country while at the same time keeping it under close guard?"
"The doctors-" Merridew began.
"Hardly," the Minister said. "For it must be in the hands and at the will of those who are to be healed. And I don't my. self see what is to prevent the ... the healee from going off by its means, once he is cured. We shan't be able to keep it quiet. And then there will be Stones everywhere. I'm not objecting. I'm only saying that we must use it either fully or not at all."
"Then in the name of God, use it!" the Mayor cried out.
"And ruin hundreds and thousands of homes!" Merridew followed him. "Suppress it, I say."
Mr. Garterr Browne waved both hands at the storm. "You See?" he asked it courteously, and after a few moments' silence added, "If the Government heal the sick they starve the healthy. If, on the other hand, they protect the healthy they doom the sick."
.Both his visitors felt a sudden touch of horror. The dilemma came at them so suddenly, and on so vast a scale, that they mentally recoiled from it. Neither of them was thinking at the moment of any others than those on whose behalf he imagined himself speaking. But to each of them the placid voice of the Home Secretary called up a vision of another hemisphere of danger and distress; and over that danger and that distress floated, ironically effective, the Stone. Of the two the Mayor suffered the more, for he had the keener sight, and at the same time the remembrance of his own son struck at his heart. He saw the silent railways and the idle workers at the same time that he heard the moans of the dying man and knew them for the moans of one among thousands. He turned sharply on the Minister.
"Is there no way of administering relief," he asked, "by the most careful vigilance?"
"There is no way to protect the Stone if we'are to use the Stone," Mr. Gartef Browne said. "And now, gentlemen?"
"I cannot believe it," the Mayor cried out. "Is the mind of man incapable of dealing with this problem? Or is the Stone sent to mock us?"
"Well . . . mock?" the Minister asked, "mock? ... But I think probably its value has been much exaggerated. We have, of course-"
"But I have seen these things happen," the Mayor said.
"No doubt, no doubt. As I was saying," the Minister went on, "we have, of course, our own scientists at work on it. Analysing, you know."
"Who are your scientists?" the Mayor asked.
"Sir Giles Tumulty primarily," the other answered. He had never heard of Sir Giles till the previous evening, but his manner implied that the name ought to settle the Mayor, "And no doubt he-they-will find some means to isolate the curative while—shall we say inhibiting?-the non-curative elements. But you must give us time."
"And am I to go back to Rich and tell the people to die?" the Mayor asked.
"You talk as if your townsfolk were all the people," Merridew muttered. "Aren't there any others to watch for the people than you? What of the Unions? Are my members to starve that your townsfolk may be more cheerful?"
"It seems," the Mayor said heavily, "that this Stone is a very subtle thing."
Mr. Garterr Browne felt that his own mind was at least as good as the Stone if it came to subtlety. It had been a difficult situation, and now everything was coming right. He looked almost gratefully at Mr. Merridew, but received no answering glance. The General Secretary was beginning to feel anxious about the future.
"At least," the Mayor said suddenly, "you will have the whole matter laid before Parliament, so that we may know what resolution is come to, and for what reason."
"I very certainly will not," Mr. Garterr Browne said, startled at this new threat of tempest. "Why, Parliament isn't even sitting. I shall let the Cabinet know. Can't you trust us to do our best?"
Neither of his visitors seemed anxious to do so. Both of them were thinking of the crowds, of voices crying out questions, of the demand of the common people for security and food and content. In the faint noise of the traffic of London that came to them in the room there seemed to be something which must either be laid hold of or itself lay hold. Merridew saw before him the massed ranks of his Conference. There was here a thing which allowed, it seemed, of no arrangement; here was no question of percentages and scales and wage-modifications over long periods-things that could be explained and defended. If it got out, if the Stone were used publicly, the whole of his Unions would be raging round him, and all the allied trades. Yet if the Stone were refused, he seemed to see in the upright and dangerous figure of the Mayor a threat of other action, of the outbreak of the sick and the friends of the sick. He foresaw division and angry strife, and suddenly looking at the Home Secretary he cried out in answer to the plaintive appeal-"But this is civil war!"
The Mayor looked over at him. "I do not think you are wrong, Mr. Secretary," he said. "We are coming perhaps to evil days."
"But really, gentlemen," the Minister began, and then changing his intention addressed himself to the Mayor. "Do you not see," he said, "that more will suffer if the Stone is used than if it is kept secret? I am sure we all sympathize with those who are in need'of one sort or another, but you cannot build up a house by pulling it down, nor do good to some by doing harm to many. Besides, so little has really been discovered about this ... discovery that it's too soon to take a gloomy view. You, I am sure, Mr. Mayor, will explain this to the people of Rich."
"And if the people of Rich lynch me in the street I shall think it natural," the Mayor answered.
There was a knock at the door and a secretary entered. "Lord Birlesmere is very anxious to- see you, sir," he said. "He telephoned from the Foreign Office Just now to know if he could come across."
"Of course, of course," Mr. Garterr Browne answered, and then, as the secretary went out, turned to his visitors. "Well," he said, "I must break off the discussion. But please don't let there be any misunderstanding. The Government will take steps to find out what the truth really is. As I said before, there is always likely to be exaggeration. And then I will let you know its decision. Pray, gentlemen, exercise all your restraining influence, and do not let there be any talk of civil war. This is a civilized community. Your interests-the interests of those you represent-townsfolk or unionists- will be safe in our hands. I shall be writing to you both in a few days. No, Mr. Mayor, I can't discuss it further at present. Important things are bound to take time."
As the two were ushered out Mr. Garterr Browne shook his head thoughtfully at the still ominous storm. "What is quite certain," he said, "is that no one must be allowed to believe in this Stone any more. It simply must not be allowed."
Chapter Thirteen
THE REFUSAL OF LORD ARGLAY
Wandsworth?" Professor Palliser said, staring at Sir Giles. "Why did you go there?"
"Can't you guess?" Sir Giles asked. "Then I suppose you won't guess what happened. Well, I don't mind telling you, Palliser, that for once neither did I. Nor the Governor, who is a beefy lump of idiocy. He got quite upset when he saw it."
"Saw what?" Palliser asked. "What have you been doing?"
"I'll tell you," Sir Giles answered. "I ought to have foreseen perhaps- but one doesn't know what the logic of the damned thing is. Well, I went to Wandsworth. You know what they have at Wandsworth?"
"Not specially," Palliser said. "A common, isn't there? And a prison?"
"And a Hottentot missionary college, and a seminary for barmaids," Sir Giles added. "What do they have at Wandsworth Prison early in the mornings?"
"Parades?" Palliser, all at sea, ventured. "Breakfast? Chapel?"
"Try all three," Sir Giles answered. "Executions, Palliser. That's what I went for. There aren't so many that I could afford to miss one, especially just after Birlesmere had given me a practically free hand. So I got a letter out of him and the Home Office scullion and down I went. After all, I argued, if this infernal Stone is a kind of rendezvous of the past and the future and every sort of place I didn't see why it shouldn't push a man over an interruption, like death. There is only one kind Of death which is fixed and that's execution. Even at hospitals you can't be certain to an hour or two, and anyhow very often there people don't die intelligently; they lose themselves and drift. But the fellow who's going to be executed knows about it all right. The ape-creature who called himself the Governor wouldn't let on to me whether he usually drugged the victin, but I saw to it he didn't drug this one. I wanted all the intelligence I could find-not that there was much anyhow; he was an undersized slug who'd poisoned a woman because she'd run away with him without having any money, so far as I could understand. Not that it mattered. I got there before he'd had his breakfast, and had a little talk, asked him if he'd like to live and so on. The warder had been cleared out of the cell, so it was all right. I don't know what the wretched creature thought I was offering him, but he screamed with gratitudequite a fascinating ten minutes, all twisting and slobbering. In fact, I began to think I shouldn't get the idea into the maggot-hole he had for a brain, but I did, and made him have a good breakfast too. Then the chaplain came in and talked about life in heaven, but my murderer was all for life on earth, and I was worth a dozen mongrel-faced chaplains to him. So he was pinioned so that he could hold one of the Stones-you ought to have seen the Governor looking like a Sunday school superintendent in a night club or something worse-and I told him to put everything he knew into choosing to live. And off we went-he and the hangman and the chaplain and the Governor and I and everyone. The funniest thing you ever saw, Palliser- if you ever did see anything funny. And there was the trap and everything. Well, do you know it was only then it occurred to me that I ought to be underneath—in the pit thing he drops into. It delayed matters a bit, but at last they grasped what I wanted: anyone except a malformed baby of two months would have understood me sooner than that Governor: and round and down I went. And down he came."
Sir Giles paused. "And now," he resumed, "what do you think happened?"
"How do I know?" Palliser exclaimed. "He was dead?"
"No," Sir Giles said thoughtfully. "No, I shouldn't say he was dead."
"He was alive!" Palliser cried. "Does it really do away with death?"
"Well, yes, I suppose in a way he was alive," Sir Giles said. "He was quite conscious and so on-one could see that. The only thing was that his neck was broken."
Palliser gaped at him. In a moment Sir Giles resumed. "There he was. Neck broken, everything as it should be, the body dead so to speak. But he wasn't. I can see now that it was my fault in a way. I was thinking in terms of continuation of life, so I put him on to that idea, and of course he swilled it down with his coffee. But we both forgot to arrange the conditions, so that the ordinary physical process wasn't interfered with. Yet on the other hand his consciousness just stopped there, in his body or wherever it lives. A damn funny result, Pallister. If you could have seen his eyes while he hung there kicking- -"
Palliser interrupted. "But what did you do?" he asked.
Sir Giles shrugged. "O well,.they cut him down, and stuck him in a bed somewhere privately, and the chaplain postponed any more of the resurrection and the life, and the Governor went off to get more instructions. And I hung about a bit-in fact, I've been there all day on and off; but there doesn't seem to be any change. There he lies, all broken up, and just his eyes awake. No use at all to me or anyone, damn and blast him for a verminous puppy-dog!"
Palliser moved uneasily. "I'm beginning to be afraid of it," he said. "I wish we knew what it was."
"It's the First Matter," Sir Giles said. "I told you that was what I thought it was, and I'm more sure than ever now. It's that which becomes everything else."
"But how does it work?" Palliser asked. "How does all this movement happen? How does it carry anyone about in space?"
"It doesn't," Sir Giles answered immediately. "Can't you see that it doesn't move people about like an aeroplane display. Once you are in contact and you choose and desire and will, you go into it and come out again where you have desired because everything is in it, anyhow. Do try and see further than a wax doll on a Christmas tree can."
"So that if you were set in contact you might, even if you only partly knew ... ?" Palliser began slowly and stopped.
"I expect so," Sir Giles said sweetly, "if your hearse of a mind could only get to the cemetery a bit quicker. What might you?"
"I was thinking of Pondon," Palliser went on. "That might explain how it was that he's ... returned?"
"He's what?" Sir Giles said sharply. "What d'you mean, Palliser? He hadn't a Stone, had he?"
"Your brother-in-law must have done it," Palliser answered, feeling some pleasure at the connexion. "You know you thought you saw him when we were trying to get at Pondon the other night and failed. There seems to have been a paragraph in the paper, but I missed that. But when I got to Birmingham yesterday morning, he was there. He'd been found in the laboratory when my demonstrator went in at about ten o'clock. He was a bit bewildered then, I gathered, so I went round to see him. And who do you think I found there?"
"Arglay!" Sir Giles exclaimed. "By God, I'll tear Arglay into bits."
"Not Arglay," Palliser went on, "but that girl who was with him-his secretary. She'd told him some tale and got on his right side, for there he was talking away to her, and telling her how he couldn't make out what had happened. I was rather sorry I'd turned up at first, though he was quite all right with me-asked me if the vibrations were all right. You remember we told him some tale about testing etheric vibrations-on the lines of my Discontinuous Integer?"
"He was damn near being a discontinuous integer himself," Sir Giles said snappily. "And what had Arglay's woman to say about it?"
"I don't like it," Palliser answered. "O she didn't say much, just cooed at him now and then. But from what he said, while he was doing his job as usual, he found his hand holding this Stone-and he knew he'd been holding it, so (as far as I could understand) he took a tighter grip and said to himself, "This is where I ought to be." And then he remembers pitching right over, and there the demonstrator found him. But that girl and Arglay have had something to do with it, and if they're going to interfere continually-"
Sir Giles put up a hand as if for silence, and sat meditating for several minutes. Then he drew a deep breath and got up. "I'm going to try something," he said. "I've had enough of this young Hecate mixing herself up with my affairs because that bestial leprechaun who employs her tells her to. I'll give Miss Chloe Burnett something else to do with her mind, and perhaps with mine. If she can use the Stone so can other people. Where is it? Go away now, Palliser, and let me try."
It was perhaps the greatest mistake which Giles Tumulty had ever made to allow what had been in general a cold, if rather horrible, sincerity of investigation into remote states of mind to become violently shaken by a personal hatred of his brother-in-law. He and Arglay had always mutually despised each other, but until now they had neverbeen in conflict. The chances of the last few'days however had turned them from contemptuous acquaintances into definite enemies. Indeed at that moment, though no one of those connected with the progress of the Stone and its Types had realized it, the Chief Justice. and his secretary were becoming the only single-minded adherents it possessed. Lord Arglay certainly could not be thought to feel any passionate devotion to it; but he strongly disliked all that he saw and felt of the greed by which it was surrounded. The Persian Government, the English GovernMent, the American millionaire and his wife-these he knew; and there were others he did not know-Merridew and Frank Lindsay; even, in some sense, though a holier, the Mayor of Rich and the Hajji Ibrahim. All for good or evil desired to recover the Stone, and use it, and most of them desired greatly to possess all its Types as well. Doncaster and Mrs. Pentridge hardly knew enough or were hardly in sufficient contact with the movements it had caused to make any demand. But Lord Arglay, at once in contact and detached, at once faithless and believing, beheld all these things in the light of that fastidious and ironical goodwill which, outside mystical experience, is the finest and noblest capacity man has developed in and against the universe. And now this itself was touched by a warmer consciousness, for as far as might be within his protection and certainly within his willing friendship, there was growing the intense secret of Chloe's devotion to the Mystery. As if a Joseph with more agnostic irony than tradition usually allows him sheltered and sustained a Mary of a more tempestuous past than the Virgin-Mother is believed to have either endured or enjoyed, so Lord Arglay considered, as far as it was clear to him, his friend's progress towards the End of Desire. To that shelter and sustenance she had eagerly returned from her absence on the Birmingham errand, and she and her companion were now telling him and the Hajji, who had been summoned, of the occurrences of that errand.
