The Astounding Events in This Remarkable Novel Leave the Reader Breathless with AmazementThe Moon TerrorByA. G. BIRCH
The Astounding Events in This Remarkable Novel Leave the Reader Breathless with Amazement
ByA. G. BIRCH
The first warning of the stupendous cataclysm that befell the earth in the third decade of the twentieth century was recorded simultaneously in several parts of America during a night in early June. But, so little was its awful significance suspected at the time, it passed almost without comment.
I am certain that I entertained no forebodings; neither did the man who was destined to play the leading role in the mighty drama that followed—Dr. Ferdinand Gresham, the eminent American astronomer. For we were on a hunting and fishing trip in Labrador at the time, and were not even aware of the strange occurrence.
Anyway, the nature of this first herald of disaster was not such as to cause alarm.
At 12 minutes past 3 o’clock a. m., when there began a lull in the night’s aerial telegraph business, several of the larger wireless stations of the Western hemisphere simultaneously began picking up strange signals out of the ether.They were faint and ghostly, as if coming from a vast distance—equally far removed from New York and San Francisco, Juneau and Panama.
Exactly two minutes apart the calls were repeated, with clock-like regularity. But the code used—if itwerea code—was undecipherable.
Until near dawn the signals continued—indistinct, unintelligible, insistent.
Every station capable of transmitting messages over such great distances emphatically denied sending them. And no amateur apparatus was powerful enough to be the cause. As far as anyone could learn, the signals originated nowhere upon the earth. It was as if some phantom were whispering through the ether in the language of another planet.
Two nights later the calls were heard again, starting at almost the same instant when they had been distinguished on the first occasion. But this time they were precisely three minutes apart. And without the variation of a second they continued for more than an hour.
The next night they reappeared. And the next and the next. Now they began earlier than before—in fact, no one knew when they had started, for they were sounding when the night’s business died down sufficiently for them to be heard. But each night, it was noticed, the interval between the signals was exactly one minute longer than the night before.
Occasionally the weird whispers ceased for a night or two, but always they resumed with the same insistence, although with a newly-timed interval.
This continued until early in July, when the pause between the calls had attained more than thirty minutes’ duration.
Then the length of the lulls began to decrease erratically. One night the mysterious summons would be heard every nineteen and a quarter minutes; the next night, every ten and a half minutes; at other times, twelve and three-quarters minutes, or fourteen and a fifth, or fifteen and a third.
Still the signals could not be deciphered, and their message—if they contained one—remained a mystery.
Newspapers and scientific journals at last began to speculate upon the matter, advancing all manner of theories to account for the disturbances.
The only one of these conjectures attracting widespread attention, however, was that presented by Professor Howard Whiteman, the famous director of the United States naval observatory at Washington, D. C.
Professor Whiteman voiced the opinion that the planet Mars was trying to establish communication with the earth—the mysterious calls being wireless signals sent across space by the inhabitants of our neighboring world.
Our globe, moving through space much faster than Mars, and in a smaller orbit, overtakes its neighboring planet once in a little over two years. For some months Mars had been approaching the earth. At the beginning of June it had been approximately 40,000,000 miles away, and at that time, Professor Whiteman pointed out, the strange wireless calls had commenced. As the two worlds drew closer together the signals increased slightly in power.
The scientist urged that while Mars remained close to us the government should appropriate funds to enlarge one of the principal wireless stations in an effort to answer the overtures of our neighbors in space.
But when, after two more days, the ethereal signals ceased abruptly and week passed without their recurrence, Professor Whiteman’s theory began to be derided, and the whole thing was dismissed as some temporary phenomenon of the atmosphere.
It was something of a shock, therefore, when, on the eighth night after the cessation of the disturbances, the calls were suddenly resumed—much louder than before, as if the power creating their electrical impulses had been increased. Now wireless stations all over the world plainly heard the staccato, mystifying challenge coming out of the ether.
This time, too, the interval between the signals was of a new length—eleven minutes and six seconds.
The next day the matter took on still further importance.
Scientists all along the Pacific Coast of the United States reported that in the night their seismographs had recorded a series of light earthquakes; and it was noted that these tremors had occurred precisely eleven minutes and six seconds apart—simultaneously with the sounding of the mysterious wireless calls!
After that the aerial signals did not stop during any part of the twenty-four hours. And the earth shocks continued, gradually increasing in severity. They kept perfect time with the signals through the ether—a shock for every whisper, a rest for every pause. In the course of a couple of weeks the quakes attained such force that in many places they could be distinctly felt by anyone standing still upon solid ground.
Science now became fully aware of the existence of some new and sinister—or at least unfathomed—force in the world, and began to give the matter profound study.
However, both Dr. Ferdinand Gresham and myself remained in complete ignorance of these events; for, as I have said, we were in the interior of Labrador. We both possessed a keen love of the wilderness, where, in vigorous sports, we renewed our energy for the work to be done in the cities—the doctor’s as director of the great astronomical observatory at the National University; mine in the prosaic channels of business.
To the public, which knew him only through his books and lectures, Dr. Gresham perhaps appeared the last person in the world anyone would seek for a companion: a man silent, preoccupied, austere, unsociable. But underneath this aloofness and taciturnity was a character of rare strength, good nature and loveableness. And, once beyond the barriers of civilization, his austerity vanished, and he became a prince of good fellows, actually reveling in hardships and danger.
The complete change in him on such occasions brought to mind a strange phase of his life about which not even I, his most intimate associate, knew anything—a period in which he had undertaken a mysterious pilgrimage alone into the dark interior of China.
I only knew that fifteen years before he had gone in quest of certain amazing astronomical discoveries rumored to have been made by Buddhist savants dwelling in monasteries far back in the Himalayas or the Tian-Shan, or some of those inaccessible mountain fastnesses of Central Asia. After more than four years he had dragged back, ill and suffering, bearing hideous disfigurations upon his body, the look in his eyes of a man who had seen hell, and maintaining inviolate silence regarding his experiences.
On regaining his health after the Chinese adventure, he had immersed himself in silence and work, and year by year since then I had seen him steadily rise in prominence in his profession. Indeed, his name had come to stand for vastly more in the scientific world than merely the advancement of astronomical knowledge. He was a deep student along many lines of scientific endeavor—electricity, chemistry, mathematics, physics, geology, even biology. To the development of wireless telegraphy and the wireless transmission of electrical energy he had devoted particular effort.
The doctor and I had left New York a few days before the wireless disturbancesbegan. Returning by a small private vessel, which was not equipped with wireless, we continued in ignorance of the world’s danger.
It was during our homeward sea voyage that the earthquakes began to grow serious. Many buildings were damaged. In the western portions of the United States and Canada a number of persons were killed by the collapse of houses.
Gradually the affected area expanded. New York and Nagasaki, Buenos Aires and Berlin, Vienna and Valparaiso began to take their places on the casualty list. Even modern skyscrapers suffered broken windows and falling plaster; sometimes they shook so violently that their occupants fled to the streets in a panic. Water and gas mains began to break.
Before long, in New York, one of the railroad tunnels under the Hudson River cracked and flooded, causing no loss of life, but spreading such alarm that all the tubes under and out of Manhattan were abandoned. This brought about a fearful congestion of traffic in the metropolis.
Finally, toward the beginning of August, the earthquakes became so serious that the newspapers were filled every day with accounts of the loss of scores—sometimes hundreds—of lives all over the world.
Then came a happening fraught with a monstrous new terror, which was revealed to the public one morning just as day dawned in New York.
During the preceding night, a great Atlantic liner, steaming westward approximately along the fiftieth parallel of latitude, hadrun agroundabout 700 miles east of Cape Race, Newfoundland—at a point where all nautical charts showed the ocean to benearly two miles deep!
Within an hour there had come reports of a similar nature from other ships two or three hundred miles distant from the first one. There was no telling how vast in extent might be the upheaved portion of the sea bottom.
Hardly had the wireless stations finished taking these startling stories from midocean before there began to arrive equally strange reports from other quarters of the globe.
Someone discovered that the sea level had risen almost six feet at New York. The Sahara Desert had sunk to an unknown depth, and the sea was rushing in, ripping vast channels through the heart of Morocco, Tripoli and Egypt, obliterating cities and completely changing the whole face of the earth.
Within a few hours the high water in New York harbor receded about a foot. Mount Chimborazo, the majestic peak of more than 20,000 feet altitude in the Ecuadorean Andes, began to fall down and spread out over the surrounding country. Then the mountains bordering the Panama Canal started to collapse for many miles, completely blocking that famous waterway.
In Europe the Danube River ceased to flow in its accustomed direction and began, near its junction with the Save, to pour its waters back past Budapest and Vienna, turning the plains of western Austria into a series of spreading lakes.
The world awoke that summer morning to face a more desperate situation than ever had confronted mankind during all the centuries of recorded history.
And still no plausible explanation of the trouble—except the Martian theory of Professor Howard Whiteman—was forthcoming.
Men were dazed, astounded. A feeling of dread and terror began to settle upon the public.
At this juncture, realizing the need of some sort of action, the President of the United States urged all the other civilized nations to send representatives to an international scientific congress in Washington, which should endeavor to determine the origin of the terrestrial disturbances and, if possible, suggest relief.
As speedily as airplanes could bring them, an imposing assemblage of the world’s leading scientists gathered in Washington.
Because of his international reputation and the fact that the congress held its sessions at the United States naval observatory of which he was chief, Professor Whiteman was chosen president of the body.
For a week the scientists debated—while the world waited in intense and growing anxiety. But the learned men accomplished nothing. They could not even agree. The battle seemed one of man against nature, and man was helpless.
In a gloomy state of mind they began to consider adjournment. At 10 o’clock on the night of the nineteenth of August the question of terminating the sessions was scheduled for a final vote.
That night, as the hands of the clock on the wall above the presiding officer’s head drew near the fateful hour, the tension throughout the assemblage became intensely dramatic. Everyone present knew in his heart that further deliberation was useless, but the fate of the human race seemed to hang upon their decision.
Even after the sound of the clock’s striking had died out upon the stillness of the room, Professor Whiteman remained seated; he seemed haggard and downcast. At last, however, he drew himself up and opened his lips to speak.
At that moment a secretary tiptoed swiftly in and whispered briefly to the presiding officer. Professor Whiteman gave a start and answered something that sent the secretary hurrying out.
Betraying strange emotion, the scientist now addressed the assemblage. His words came haltingly, as if he feared they would be greeted with ridicule.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “a strange thing has happened. A few minutes ago—the wireless signals that have always accompanied the earthquakes ceased abruptly. In their place came—a mysterious summons out of the ether—whence no one knows—demanding a conversation with the presiding officer of this body. The sender of the message declares his communication has to do with the problem we have been trying to solve. Of course—this is probably some hoax—but our operator is greatly excited over the circumstances surrounding the call, and urges that we come to the wireless room at once!”
With one accord, everyone rose and moved forward.
Leading the way to another part of the observatory grounds, Professor Whiteman ushered the company into the operating room of the wireless plant—one of the most powerful in the world.
A little knot of observatory officials already was clustered about the operator, their manner denoting that something unusual had been going on.
At a word from Professor Whiteman, the operator threw over his rheostat and the hum of the rotary spark filled the room. Then his fingers played on the key while he sent out a few signals.
“I’m letting them—him—know you’re ready, sir,” the operator explained to the astronomer, in a tone filled with awe.
A few moments slipped by. Everyone waited breathlessly, all eyes glued upon the apparatus, as if to read the momentous message that was expected to come from—no one knew where.
Suddenly there was an involuntary movement of the muscles of the operator’s face, as if he were straining to hear something very faint and far away; then he began writing slowly upon a pad that lay on his desk. At his elbow the scientists unceremoniously crowded each other in their eagerness to read:
“To the Presiding Officer of the International Scientific Congress, Washington,” he wrote. “I am the dictator of human destiny. Through control of the earth’s internal forces I am master of every existing thing. I can blot out all life—destroy the globe itself. It is my intention to abolish all present governments and make myself emperor of the earth. As proof of my power to do this, I”—there was a pause of several seconds, which seemed like hours in the awful stillness—“I shall, at midnight tomorrow, Thursday (Washington time), cause the earthquakes to cease until further notice.“KWO.”
“To the Presiding Officer of the International Scientific Congress, Washington,” he wrote. “I am the dictator of human destiny. Through control of the earth’s internal forces I am master of every existing thing. I can blot out all life—destroy the globe itself. It is my intention to abolish all present governments and make myself emperor of the earth. As proof of my power to do this, I”—there was a pause of several seconds, which seemed like hours in the awful stillness—“I shall, at midnight tomorrow, Thursday (Washington time), cause the earthquakes to cease until further notice.
“KWO.”
By the next morning the entire civilized world knew of the strange and threatening communication from the self-styled “dictator of human destiny.”
The members of the scientific congress had sought to keep the matter secret, but all the larger wireless stations of North America had picked up the message, and thence it found its way into the newspapers.
Ordinarily, such a communication would have attracted nothing more than laughter, as a harmless prank; but the increasing menace of the earthquakes had wrought a state of nervous tension that was ready to clothe the whole affair with sinister significance.
It was an alarmed and hysterical public that gathered in the streets of all the great cities soon after daylight. One question was on every tongue:
Who was this mysterious “KWO,” and was his message actually a momentous declaration to the human race, or merely a hoax perpetrated by some person with an overly vivid imagination?
Even the signature to the communication was such as to arouse curiosity. Was it a name? Or a combination of initials? Or a title, like “Rex,” signifying king? Or a nom de plume? Or the name of a place?
No one could say.
Anyone capable of discovering the secrets of the earth’s internal forces, and harnessing those forces for his own ends, unquestionably was the most wonderful scientist the world had ever seen; but, though every important nation of the globe was represented at the scientific congress in Washington, not one of those representatives had ever heard of successful experiments along this line, or knew any prominent scientist named KWO, or one possessing initials that would make up that word. The name sounded Oriental, but certainly no country of the Orient had produced a scientist of sufficient genius to accomplish this miracle.
It was a problem concerning which the best-informed persons knew no more than the most untutored child, but one which was of paramount importance to the group of savants assembled in Washington. Until more light could be shed on this subject they were powerless to form any conclusions. Accordingly, their first effort was to get into further communication with their unknown correspondent.
All through the night the operator at the naval observatory’s wireless plant in Washington sat at his key, calling over and over again the three letters that constituted mankind’s only knowledge of its adversary:
“KWO—KWO—KWO!”
But there was no answer. Absolute silence enveloped the menacing power. “KWO” had spoken. He would not speak again. And after twelve hours even the most persistent members of the scientific body—who had remained constantly in the wireless room throughout the night—reluctantly desisted from further attempts at communication.
Even this failure found its way into the newspapers and helped to divide public opinion. Many persons and influential papers insisted that “KWO’S” threat was nothing more than a hoax. Others, however, were inclined to accept the message as the serious declaration of a human being with practically supernatural powers. In advancing this opinion they were supported by the undeniable fact that from the time the mysterious “KWO” began his efforts to communicate with the head of the scientific congress, until his message had been completed, the strange wireless signals accompanying the earth tremors had ceased entirely—a thing that had not happened before. When he was through speaking, the signals had resumed their clocklike recurrence. It was as if some power had deliberately cleared the ether for the transmission of this proclamation to mankind.
A feeling of dread—of monstrous uncertainty—hung over everyone and increased as the day wore on. Ordinary affairs were neglected, while the crowds in public places steadily increased.
By nightfall of Thursday even the loudest scoffers at the genuineness of the “dictator’s” threat began to display symptoms of the general uneasiness.
Would the earthquakes begin to subside at midnight?
Upon the answer to this question hung the fate of the world.
It was an exceedingly hot night in most parts of the United States. Scarcely anywhere was a breath of air stirring; the whole country was blanketed by a suffocating wave of humidity. Low clouds that presaged rain—but never brought it—added to the general feeling of apprehension. It was as if all nature had conspired to furnish a dramatic setting for the events about to be enacted.
As midnight drew near the excitement became intense. In Europe, as well as in America, vast throngs filled the streets in front of the newspaper offices, watching the bulletin boards. The Consolidated News Syndicate had arranged special radio service from various scientific institutions—notably the Washington naval observatory, where savants were watching the delicate instruments for recording earth shocks—and any variation or subsidence in the tremors would be flashed to newspapers everywhere.
When the hands of the clocks reached a point equivalent to two minutes of midnight, Washington time, a vast hush fell upon the assembled thousands. The very atmosphere became aquiver with suspense.
But if the scene in the streets was exciting, that within the instrument room of the United States naval observatory, where the members of the international scientific congress waited was dramatic beyond description.
About the room sat the scientists and a couple of representatives from the Consolidated News. Professor Whiteman himself was stationed at the seismographs, while at his elbow sat Professor James Frisby, in direct telephone communication with the wireless operator in another part of the grounds.
The light was shaded and dim. The heat was stifling. Not a word was spoken. Scarcely a muscle moved. All were painfully alert.
Every eleven minutes and six seconds the building was shaken by a subterranean shock. The windows rattled. The floor creaked. Even the chairs seemed to lift and heave. It had been that way for weeks. But would this night see the end?
With maddening slowness, the hands of the big clock on the wall—its face illuminated by a tiny electric lamp—drew toward the hour of twelve.
Suddenly there came one of the earthquakes, that, while no different from itspredecessors, heightened the tension like the crack of a whip.
All eyes flew to the timepiece. It registered thirty-four seconds past 11:49 o’clock.
Therefore, the next tremor would occur at precisely forty seconds after midnight.
If the unknown “KWO” were an actual being, and kept his word—at that time the shocks would begin to subside!
The suspense became terrible. The faces of the scientists were drawn and pale. Beads of perspiration stood out on every brow. The minutes passed.
The electric correcting-device on the clock gave a sharpclick, denoting midnight. Forty seconds more! The suffocating atmosphere seemed almost to turn cold under the pressure of anxiety.
Then, almost before anyone could realize it, the earthquake had come and gone! And not one particle of diminution in its violence had been felt!
A sigh of relief involuntarily passed around the room. Few moved or spoke, but there was a lessening of the strain on many faces. It was too soon yet, of course, to be sure, but—in most hearts there began to dawn a faint ray of hope that, after all, this “dictator of human destiny” might be a myth.
But suddenly Professor Frisby raised his hand to command quiet, and bent more intently over his telephone.
A short silence followed. Then he turned to the gentlemen and announced in a voice that seemed curiously dry:
“The operator reports that no wireless signal accompanied this last earthquake.”
Again the nerve tension in the assembly leaped like an electric spark. Several more minutes passed in silence.
Then came another quake.
Had there been a decrease in its force? Opinion was divided.
All eyes sped to Professor Whiteman, but he remained absorbed at his seismographs.
In this silence and keen suspense eleven minutes and six seconds again dragged by. Another earthquake came and went. Once more Professor Frisby announced that there had been no wireless signal attending the tremor. The savants began to settle themselves for a further wait, when—
Professor Whiteman left his instrument and came slowly forward. In the dim light his face looked lined and gray. Before the rows of seats he stopped and faltered a moment. Then he said:
“Gentlemen, the earthquakes are beginning to subside!”
For a moment the scientists sat as if stunned. Everyone was too appalled to speak or move. Then the tension was broken by the rush of the Consolidated News men from the room to get their momentous tidings out to the world.
After that the ground shocks died out with increasing rapidity. In an hour they had ceased entirely, and the tortured planet once more was still.
But the tumult among the people had only started!
With a sudden shock the globe’s inhabitants realized that they were in the grip of an unknown being endowed with supernatural power. Whether he were man or demi-god, sane or mad, well disposed or malignant—no one could guess. Where was his dwelling place, whence the source of his power, what would be the first manifestation of his authority, or how far would he seek to enforce his control? Only time could answer.
As this situation dawned upon men, their fears burst all bounds. Frantic excitement took possession of the throngs.
Only at the naval observatory in Washington was there calmness and restraint. The gathering of scientists spent the night in earnest deliberation of the course to be followed.
Finally it was decided that nothing should be done for the present; they would merely await events. When it had suited the mysterious “KWO” to announce himself to the world he had done so. Thereafter, communication with him had been impossible. Doubtless when he was ready to speak again he would break his silence—not before. It was reasonable to suppose that, now he had proved his power, he would not be long in stating his wishes or commands.
Events soon showed this surmise was correct.
Promptly at noon the next day—there having in the meantime been no recurrence of the earthquakes or electrical disturbances of the ether—the wireless at the naval observatory again received the mysterious call for the presiding officer of the scientific congress.
Professor Whiteman had remained at the observatory, in anticipation of such a summons, and soon he, with other leading members of the scientific assembly, was at the side of the operator in the wireless room.
Almost immediately after the call:
“KWO—KWO—KWO!”
went forth into the ether, there came a response and the operator started writing:
“To the Presiding officer of the International Scientific Congress:“Communicate this to the various governments of the earth:“As a preliminary to the establishment of my sole rule throughout the world, the following demands must be complied with:“First: All standing armies shall be disbanded, and every implement of warfare, of whatsoever nature, destroyed.“Second: All war vessels shall be assembled—those of the Atlantic fleets midway between New York and Gibraltar, those of the Pacific fleets midway between San Francisco and Honolulu—and sunk.“Third: One-half of all the monetary gold supply of the world shall be collected and turned over to my agents at places to be announced later.“Fourth: At noon on the third day after the foregoing demands have been complied with, all the existing governments shall resign and surrender their powers to my agents, who will be on hand to receive them.“In my next communication I will fix the date for the fulfillment of these demands.“The alternative is the destruction of the globe.“KWO.”
“To the Presiding officer of the International Scientific Congress:
“Communicate this to the various governments of the earth:
“As a preliminary to the establishment of my sole rule throughout the world, the following demands must be complied with:
“First: All standing armies shall be disbanded, and every implement of warfare, of whatsoever nature, destroyed.
“Second: All war vessels shall be assembled—those of the Atlantic fleets midway between New York and Gibraltar, those of the Pacific fleets midway between San Francisco and Honolulu—and sunk.
“Third: One-half of all the monetary gold supply of the world shall be collected and turned over to my agents at places to be announced later.
“Fourth: At noon on the third day after the foregoing demands have been complied with, all the existing governments shall resign and surrender their powers to my agents, who will be on hand to receive them.
“In my next communication I will fix the date for the fulfillment of these demands.
“The alternative is the destruction of the globe.
“KWO.”
It was on the evening of this eventful day that Dr. Gresham and I returned from Labrador. A little after 10 o’clock we landed in New York and, taking a taxicab at the pier, started for our bachelor quarters in apartments near each other west of Central Park.
As we reached the center of town we were amazed at the excited crowds that filled the streets and at the prodigious din raised by newsboys selling extras.
We stopped the car and bought papers. Huge black headings told the story at a glance. Also, at the bottom of the first page, we found a brief chronological summary of all that had happened, from the very beginning of the mysterious wireless signals three months before. We scanned it eagerly.
When I finished the newspaper article I turned to my companion—and was struck with horror at the change in his appearance!
He was crumpled down upon the seat of the taxi, and his face had taken on a ghastly hue. At first I though he had suffered a stroke. Only his eyes held a sign of life, and they seemed fixed on something far away—something too terrifying to be a part of the world around us.
Seizing him by the shoulders, I tried to arouse him, exclaiming:
“For heaven’s sake! What is the matter?”
My words had no effect, so I shook him roughly.
Then he slowly began to come to his senses. His lips moved, without any sound passing them. But presently he found voice to murmur, as if talking in his sleep:
“It has come! The Seuen-H’sin—the terrible Seuen-H’sin!”
An instant later, with a great effort, he drew himself together and spoke sharply to the chauffeur:
“Quick! Never mind those addresses we gave you! Rush us to the Grand Central Station!Hurry!”
As the car suddenly swerved into a side street, I turned to the doctor.
“What’s the matter? Where are you going?” I asked.
“To Washington!” he snapped, in reply to my second question. “As fast as we can get there!”
“In connection with this earthquake terror?” I inquired.
“Yes!” he told me; “for—”
There was a pause, and then he finished in a strange, awed voice:
“What the world has seen of this devil ‘KWO’ is only the faintest prelude to what may come—events so terrible, so utterly opposed to all human experience, that they would stagger the imagination!This is the beginning of the dissolution of our planet!”
“Doubtless you never heard of the Seuen-H’sin.”
The speaker was Dr. Ferdinand Gresham, and these were the first words he had uttered since we entered our private compartment on the midnight express for Washington, an hour before.
I lowered my cigar expectantly.
“No,” I said; “never until you spoke the name in a momentary fit of illness this evening.”
The doctor gave me a swift, searching glance, as if questioning what I might have learned. Presently he went to the door and looked out into the passage, apparently assuring himself no one was within hearing; then, locking the portal, he returned to his seat and said:
“So you never heard of the Seuen-H’sin—‘The Sect of the Two Moons’? Then I will tell you: the Seuen-H’sin are the sorcerers of China, and the most murderously diabolical breed of human beings on this earth! They are the makers of these earthquakes that are aimed to wreck our world!”
The astronomer’s declaration so dumfounded me that I could only stare at him, wondering if he were serious.
“The Seuen-H’sin are sorcerers,” he repeated presently, “whose devilish power is shaking our planet to the core. And I say to you solemnly that this ‘KWO’—who is Kwo-Sung-tao, high priest of the Seuen-H’sin—is a thousand times more dangerous than all the conquerors in history! Already he has absolute control of a hundred millions of people—mind and body, body and soul!—holding them enthralled by black arts so terrible that the civilized mind cannot conceive of them!”
Dr. Gresham leaned forward, his eyes shining brightly, his voice betraying deep emotion.
“Have you any idea,” he demanded, “what goes on in the farthermost interior of China? HasanyAmerican or European?
“We read of a republic superseding her ancient monarchy, and we meet her students who are sent here to our schools. We hear of the expansion of our commerce along the jagged edges of that great Unknown, and we learn of Chinese railroad projects fostered by our financiers. But no human being in the outside world could possibly conceive what takes place in that gigantic shadow land—vague and vast as the midnight heavens—a continent unknown, impenetrable!
“Shut away in that remote interior—in a valley so little heard of that it is almost mythical—beyond trackless deserts and the loftiest mountains on the globe—this terrible sect of sorcerers has been growing in power for thousands of years, storing up secret energy that some day should inundate the world with horrors such as never have been known!
“And yet you never heard of the Seuen-H’sin! No; nor has any other Caucasian, except, perhaps, a chance missionary or two.
“But I tell youI have seen them!”
Dr. Gresham was becoming strangely excited, and his voice rose almost shrilly above the roar of the train.
“I have seen them,” he went on. “I have crossed the Mountains of Fear, whose summits tower as high as from the earth to the moon, and I have watched the stars dance at night upon their glaciers. I have starved upon the dead plains of Dzun-Sz’chuen, and I have swum the River of Death. I have slept in the Caves of Nganhwiu, where the hot winds never cease and the dead light their campfires on their journey to Nirvana. And I have seen, too”—there was a strange, entranced look on his face as he spoke—“I have seen the Shadow of God on Tseih Hwan and K’eech-ch’a-gan! But in the end I have dwelt in Wu-yang!
“Wu-yang,” he continued, after a brief pause, “is the center of the Seuen-H’sin—a wondrous dream city beside a lake whose waters are as opalescent as the sky at dawn; where the gardens are sweet-scented with a million blooms, and the air is filed with bird songs and the music of golden bells.
“But forgive me,” sighed the doctor, rousing himself from his ecstatic train of thought; “I speak in the allegories of another land!”
We were silent for a time, until finally I suggested:
“And the Seuen-H’sin—The Sect of the Two Moons?”
“Ah, yes,” responded Dr. Gresham: “In Wu-yang the Beautiful I dwelt among them. For three years that city was my home. I labored in its workshops, studied in its schools, and—yes; I will admit it—I took part in those hellish ceremonies in the Temple of the Moon God—to save myself from death by fiendish torture. And, as my reward, I watched those devils at their miraculous business—the making of another moon!”
We smoked a moment in silence. Then:
“Surely,” I objected, “you do not believe in miracles!”
“Miracles? Yes,” he affirmed seriously—“miracles of science. For the sorcerers of China are scientists—the greatest that this world has yet produced! Talk to me of modern progress—our arts and sciences, our discoveries and inventions. Bah! They are child’s play—clap-trap!—beside the accomplishments of this race of Chinese devils! We Americans boast of our Thomas Edison. Why, the Seuen-H’sin have a thousand Edisons!
“Think of it—thousands of years before Copernicus discovered that the earth revolves around the sun, Chinese astronomers understood the nature of our solar system and accurately computed the movements of the stars. The use of the magnetic compass was ancient even in those days. A thousand years before Columbus was born their navigators visited the western coast of North America and maintained colonies for a time. In the year 2657 B. C. savants of the Seuen-H’sin completed engineering projects on the Yellow River that never have been surpassed. And forty centuries before Christ the physicians of China practiced inoculation against smallpox and wrote erudite books on human anatomy.
“Scientists? Why, man alive, the Seuen-H’sin are the greatest scientists that ever lived! But they haven’t the machinery or the materials or the factories that have made the Western nations great. There they are—shut up in their hidden valley, with no commercial incentives, no contact with the world, no desire but to study and experiment.
“Their scientific development through centuries beyond number has had only one object, which was the basis of their fanatical religion—the discovery of a means to split this earth and project an offshoot into space to form a second moon. And if our train stopped this minute you probably could feel them somewhere beneath you—hammering—hammering—hammering away at the world with their terrible and mysterious power, which even now it may be too late to stop!”
The astronomer rose and paced the length of the compartment, apparently so deep in thought that I was loath to disturb him. But finally I asked:
“Why do these sorcerers desire a second moon?”
Dr. Gresham resumed his seat and, lighting a fresh cigar, began:
“Numerous legends that are almost as old as the human race represent that the earth once had two moons. And not a few modern astronomers have held the same theory. Mars has two satellites, Uranus four, Jupiter five and Saturn ten. The supposition of these scientists is that the second satellite of the earth was shattered, and that its fragments are the meteors which occasionally encounter our world in their flight.
“Now, in the far, far distant past, before the days of Huang-ti and Yu—even before the time of the great semi-mythical kings, Yao and Shun—there ruled in China an emperor of peculiar fame—Ssu-chuan, the Universal.
“Ssu-chuan was a man of weak character and mediocre talents, but his reign was the greatest in all Chinese history, due to the intelligence and energy of his empress, Chwang-Keang.
“In those days, the legends tell us, the world possessed two moons.
“At the height of his prosperity Ssu-chuan fell in love with a very beautiful girl, called Mei-hsi, who became his mistress.
“The Empress Chwang-Keang was as plain as Mei-hsi was beautiful, and in time the mistress prevailed upon her lord to plot his wife’s murder, so that Mei-hsi might be queen. Chwang-Keang was stabbed to death one evening in her garden.
“With her death begins the history of Seuen-H’sin.
“Simultaneous with the murder of the empress, one of the moons vanished from the sky. The Chinese legends say the spirit of the great ruler took refuge upon the satellite, which fled with her from sight of the earth. Modern astronomers say the satellite probably was shattered by an internal explosion.
“Now that the firm hand of Chwang-Keang was lifted from affairs of state, everything went wrong in China—until the country reverted virtually to savagery.
“At last Ssu-chuan aroused himself from his pleasures sufficiently to take alarm. He consulted his priests and seers, who assured him that heaven was angry because of the murder of Chwang-Keang. Never again, they said, would China know happiness or prosperity until the vanished moon returned, bringing the spirit of the dead empress to watch over the affairs of her beloved land. Upon her return, however, the glory of China would rise again, and the Son of Heaven would rule the world.
“Upon receiving these tidings, the legends relate, Ssu-chuan was consumed with pious zeal.
“Upon a lofty mountain behind the city he built the most magnificent temple in the world, and installed there a special priesthood to beseech heaven to restore the second moon. This priesthood was named the Seuen-H’sin, or Sect of the Two Moons. The worship of the Moon God was declared the state religion.
“Gradually the belief that the Seuen-H’sin was to restore the second moon—and that, when this happened, the Celestial Kingdom again would enjoy universal rule—became the fanatical faith of a fourth of China.
“But finally, in a fit of remorse, Ssu-chuan burnt himself alive in his palace.
“The empire of Ssu-chuan dissolved, but the Seuen-H’sin grew greater. Its high priest attained the most terrible and far-reaching power in China. But in the second century B. C., Shi-Hwang-ti, the great military emperor, made war upon the sorcerers and drove them across the Kuen-lun mountains. Still they retained great wealth and power; and in Wu-yang they made a city that is the dream spot of the world, equipped with splendid colleges for the study of astronomy and the sciences and magic.
“As astronomical knowledge increased among the Seuen-H’sin, they came to believe that the moon once was a part of the earth, having been blown out of the hollow now filled by the Pacific Ocean. In this theory certain eminent American and French astronomers lately have concurred.
“The Chinese sorcerers conceived the idea that by scientific means the earth again could be rent asunder, and its offshoot projected into space to form a second moon. Henceforth, all their labors were directed toward finding that means. And the lust for world domination became the religion of their race.
“When I dwelt among them they seemed to be drawing near their goal—and now they probably have reached it!
“But if we may judge from these demands of Kwo-Sung-tao, their plans for world conquest have taken a new and simpler turn: by threatening to use their mysterious force to dismember the globe they hope to subjugate mankind just as effectively as they expected to do by creating a second moon and fulfilling their prophecy. Why wreck the earth, if they can conquer it by threats?
“If they are able to enforce their demands it will not be long before civilization is face-to-face with those powers of evil that grind a quarter of China’s millions beneath their ghastly rule—a rule of fanaticism and terror that would stun the world!”
Dr. Gresham paused and peered out the window. There was an unearthly look on his face when he again turned toward me.
“I have seen,” he said, “those hideous powers of the Seuen-H’sin—things of horror such as the Western mind cannot conceive! When the beating of my heart shall cease forever, when my body has been buried in the grave, and when the Seuen-H’sin’s torture scars”—he tore open his shirt and revealed frightful cicatrices upon his chest—“have vanished in the final dissolution, then, even then, I shall not forget those devils out of hell in Wu-yang, and I shall feel their power clutching at my soul!”
It was shortly before dawn when we alighted from the train in Washington. Newsboys were calling extras:
“Terrible disaster! Nine thousand lives lost in Mississippi River!”
Purchasing copies of the papers, Dr. Gresham called a taxicab and directed the chauffeur to take us as rapidly as possible to the United States Naval Observatory in Georgetown. We read the news as we rode along.
The great railroad bridge across the Mississippi River at St. Louis had collapsed, plunging three trains into the stream and drowning virtually all the passengers; and a few minutes later the Mississippi had ceased to flow past the city, pouring into a huge gap that suddenlyhad opened in the earth at a point about twenty-five miles northwest of the town.
Nearly everyone in St. Louis who could get an automobile had started for the point where the Mississippi was tumbling into the earth, and before long a vast crowd had assembled along the edges of the steaming chasm, watching the phenomenon.
Suddenly there had come a heavy shock underground and the crack had heaved nearly shut, sending a vast geyser, the full width of the stream, spouting a couple of thousand feet aloft. A few moments later this huge column of water had thundered back upon the river banks where the spectators were gathered, stunning and engulfing thousands. At the same time the gash had opened again and into it the torrent had swept the helpless multitude. Then it had closed once more and remained so, and the river had resumed its flow.
It was estimated that more than 9,000 persons had perished.
“Kwo-Sung-tao has stopped his earthquakes,” remarked Dr. Gresham, when he had finished scanning the newspaper reports, “but irreparable damage has been done. Enough water doubtless has found its way into the heated interior of the globe to form a steam pressure that will play havoc.”
Soon we drew up at the white-domed observatory crowning the wooded hill beyond Wisconsin Avenue. It was our good fortune to find Professor Howard Whiteman and several prominent members of the international scientific congress still there.
After a brief conversation with these gentlemen—to whom he was well known by reputation—Dr. Gresham drew Professor Whiteman and two of his chief assistants aside and began questioning them about the disturbances. He gave not the slightest hint of his knowledge of the Seuen-H’sin.
The doctor was particularly interested in every detail regarding the course taken by the quakes—whether or not all of them had come from the same direction, what that direction was, and how far away the point of origin seemed to be.
Professor Whiteman said the seismographs indicated the tremors allhadcome from one direction—a point somewhere to the northwest—and had traveled in a general southeasterly course. It was his opinion that the seat of the disturbances was about 3,000 miles distant—certainly not more than 4,000 miles.
This appeared greatly to surprise my companion and to upset whatever theories he might have in mind. Finally he asked to see all the data on the tremors, especially the actual seismograph records. At once we were taken to the building where these records were kept.
For more than an hour Dr. Gresham intently studied the charts and calculations, making new computations of his own and referring to numerous maps. But the longer he worked, the more puzzled he became.
Suddenly he looked up with an exclamation, and after seemingly weighing some new idea, he turned to me and said:
“Arthur, I need your help. Go to one of the newspaper offices and look through the files of old copies for an account of the capture of the Pacific SteamshipNipponby Chinese pirates. Try to find out what cargo the vessel carried. If the newspaper accounts do not give this, then try at the State Department. But hurry!”
We had kept our taxicab waiting, so I was soon speeding toward one of the newspaper offices on Pennsylvania Avenue. As I rode along I brought to mind the strange and terrible story of the great Pacific liner.
TheNipponwas the newest and largest of the fleet of huge ships in service between San Francisco and the Orient. Fifteen months previous, while running from Nagasaki to Shanghai, across the entrance to the Yellow Sea, she had encountered a typhoon of such violence that one of her propeller shafts was damaged, and after the storm abated she was obliged to stop at sea for repairs.
It was an intensely dark, quiet night. About midnight the officer of the watch suddenly heard from the deck amidship a wild, long-drawn yell. Then all became quiet again. As he started to descend from the bridge he heard bare feet pattering along the deck below. And then more cries arose forward—the most awful sounds. Rushing to his cabin, he seized a revolver and returned to the deck.
Surging over the rail at a dozen points were savage, half-naked yellow forms, gripping long, curved knives—the dreaded but almost-extinct Chinese pirates of the Yellow Sea. The fiends swiftly attacked a number of passengers who had been promenading about, murdering them in cold blood.
Meanwhile, other pirates were rushing to all parts of the ship.
As soon as he recovered from his first horrified shock, the officer leaped toward a group of the Chinamen and emptied his revolver into them. But the pirates far outnumbered the cartridges in his weapon, and when his last bullet had been fired several of the yellow devils darted at him with gleaming knives. Whereupon the officer turned and fled to the wireless operator’s room nearby.
He got inside and fastened the heavy door just a second ahead of his pursuers. While the Chinamen were battering at the portal, he had the operator send out wireless calls for help, telling what was occurring on board.
Several ships and land stations picked up the strange story as far as I have related it, at which point the message ceased abruptly.
From that instant theNipponvanished as completely as if she never had existed. Not one word ever again was heard of the vessel or of a single soul on board.
It required only a few minutes’ search through the newspaper files to find the information I sought, and soon I was back at the observatory.
Dr. Gresham greeted me eagerly.
“The SteamshipNippon,” I reported, “carried a cargo of American shoes, plows and lumber.”
My friend’s face fell with keen disappointment.
“What else?” he inquired. “Weren’t there other things?”
“Lots of odds and ends,” I replied—“pianos, automobiles, sewing machines, machinery—”
“Machinery?” the doctor shot out quickly. “What kind of machinery?”
I drew from my pocket the penciled notes I had made at the newspaper office and glanced over the items.
“Some electrical equipment,” I answered. “Dynamos, turbines, switchboards, copper cable—all such things—for a hydro-electric plant near Hong-kong.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the doctor in elation. “I was sure of it! We may be getting at the mystery at last!”
Seizing the memoranda, he ran his eyes hurriedly down the list of items. Profound confidence marked his bearing when he turned to Professor Whiteman a moment later and said:
“I must obtain an immediate audience with the President of the United States. You know him personally. Can you arrange it?”
Professor Whiteman could not conceal his surprise.
“Concerning these earthquakes?” he inquired.
“Yes!” my friend assured him.
The astronomer looked at his colleague keenly.
“I will see what I can do,” he said. And he went off to a telephone.
In five minutes he was back.
“The President and his cabinet meet at 9 o’clock,” announced the director. “You will be received at that hour.”
Dr. Gresham looked at his watch. It was 8:30.
“If you will be so kind,” said Dr. Gresham, “I would like to have you go with us to the President—and Sir William Belford, Monsieur Linne and the Duke de Rizzio as well, if they are still here. What we have to discuss is of the utmost importance to their governments, as well as to ours.”
Professor Whiteman signified his own willingness to go, and went to hunt the other gentlemen.
This trio my friend had named comprised undoubtedly the leading minds of the international scientific congress. Sir William Belford was the great English physicist, head of the British delegation to the congress. Monsieur Camille Linne was the leader of the French group of scientists, a distinguished electrical expert. And the Duke de Rizzio was the famous Italian inventor and wireless telegraph authority, who headed the representatives from Rome.
The director soon returned with the three visitors, and we all hastened to the White House. Promptly at 9 o’clock we were ushered into the room where the nation’s chief executive and his cabinet—all grim and careworn from a night of sleepless anxiety—were in session.
As briefly as possible, Dr. Gresham told the story of the Seuen-H’sin.
“It is their purpose,” he concluded, “to crack open the earth’s crust by these repeated shocks, so the water from the oceans will pour into the globe’s interior. There, coming into contact with incandescent matter, steam will be generated until there is an explosion that will split the planet in two.”
It is hardly to the discredit of the President and his advisers that they could not at once accept so fantastic a tale.
“How can these Chinamen produce an artificial quaking of the earth?” asked the President.
“That,” replied the astronomer frankly, “I am not prepared to answer yet—although I have a strong suspicion of the method employed.”
For the greater part of an hour the gentlemen questioned the astronomer. They did not express doubt of his veracity in his account of the Seuen-H’sin, but merely questioned his judgment in attributing to that sect the terrible power to control the internal forces of the earth.
“You are asking us,” objected the Secretary of State, “virtually to return to the Dark Ages and believe in magicians and sorcerers and supernatural events!”
“Not at all!” returned the astronomer. “I am asking you to deal with modern facts—to grapple with scientific ideas that are so far ahead of our times the world is not prepared to accept them!”
“Then you believe that an unheard-of group of Chinamen, hiding in some remote corner of the globe, has developed a higher form of science than the brightest minds of all the civilized nations?” remarked the Attorney General.
“Events of the last few weeks seem to have demonstrated that,” replied Dr. Gresham.
“But,” protested the President, “if these Mongolians aim at splitting the globe to project a new moon into the sky, why should they be satisfied with an entirely different object—the acquisition of temporal power?”
“Because,” the scientist informed him, “the acquisition of temporal power is their ultimate goal. Their only object in creating a second moon is to fulfill the prophecy that they should rule the earth again when two moons hung in the sky. If they can grasp universal rulewithoutsplitting the globe—merely bythreateningto do so—they are very much the gainers.”
The Secretary of the Navy next voiced a doubt.
“But it is evident,” he remarked, “that if Kwo-Sung-tao makes the heavens fall, they will fall on his own head also!”
“Quite true,” admitted the astronomer.
“Then,” persisted the Secretary, “is it likely that human beings would plot the destruction of the earth when they knew it would involve them, too, in the ruin?”
“You forget,” returned the doctor, “that we are dealing with a band of religious fanatics—undoubtedly the most irrational zealots that ever lived!
“Besides,” he added, “the Seuen-H’sin, in spite of its threats, does not expect to destroy the world completely. It contemplates no more than the blowing of a fragment off into space.”
“What, then, shall be done?” inquired the President.
“Place at my disposal one of the fastest destroyers of the Pacific fleet—equipped with certain scientific apparatus I shall devise—and let me deal with the Seuen-H’sin in my own way,” announced the astronomer.
The gathering at once voiced vigorous objection.
“What you propose might mean war with China!” exclaimed the President.
“Not at all,” was the answer. “It is possible not a single shot will be fired. And, in any event, we will not go anywhere near China.”
The consternation of the officials increased.
“We shall not go near China,” Dr. Gresham explained, “because I am certain the leaders of the Seuen-H’sin are no longer there. At this very hour, I am convinced, Kwo-Sung-tao and his devilish band are very much nearer to us than you dream!”
The gathering broke into excited discussion.
“After all,” remarked Sir William Belford, “suppose this expeditionshouldplunge us into hostilities. Unless something is done quickly, we are likely to meet a fate far worse than war!”
“I am willing to do anything necessary to remove this menace from the world—if the menace actually exists,” the President stated. “But I am unable to convince myself that these wireless messages threatening mankind are not merely the emanations of a crank, who is taking advantage of conditions over which he has no control.”
“But I maintain,” argued Sir William, “that the sender of these messageshasfully demonstrated his control over our planet. He prophesied a definite performance, and that prophecy was fulfilled to the letter. We cannot attribute its fulfillment to natural causes, nor to any human agency other than his. I say it is time we recognized his power, and dealt with him as best we may.”
Several others now began to incline to this view.
Whereupon the Attorney General joined in the discussion with considerable warmth.
“I must protest,” he interposed, “against what seems to me an extraordinary credulity upon the part of many of you gentlemen. I view this affair as a rational human being. Some natural phenomenon occurred to disturb the solidity of the earth’s crust. That disturbance has ceased. Some joker or lunatic was lucky enough to strike it right with his prediction of this cessation—nothing more. The disturbance may never reappear. Or it may resume at any moment and end in a calamity. No one can foretell. But when you ask me to believe that these earthquakes were due to some human agency—that a mysterious bugaboo was responsible for them—I tell youno!”
Monsieur Linne had risen and was walking nervously up and down theroom. Presently he turned to the Attorney General and remarked:
“That is merely your opinion, sir. It is not proof. Why may these earthquakes not be due to some human agency? Have we not begun to solve all the mysteries of nature? A few years ago it was inconceivable that electricity could ever be used for power, heat and light. May not many of the inconceivable things of today be the commonplace realities of tomorrow? We have earthquakes. Is it beyond imagination that the forces which produce them can be controlled?”
“Still,” returned the Attorney General vigorously, “my answer is that we have no adequate reason for attributing either the appearance or the cessation of these earthquakes to any human power! And I am unalterably opposed to making the government of the United States ridiculous by fitting out a naval expedition to combat a phantom adversary.”
Dr. Gresham now had risen and was standing behind his chair, his face flushed and his eyes shining. At this point he broke sharply into the discussion, the cold, cutting force of his words leaving no doubt of his decision.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I did not come here toargue; I came tohelp! As surely as I am standing here, our world is upon the brink of dissolution! And I alone may be able to save it! But, if I am to do so, you must agree absolutely to the course of action I propose!”
He glanced at his watch. It was 10 o’clock.
“At noon,” he announced, in tones of finality, “I shall return for my answer!”
And he turned and started for the door.
In the tenseness of those last few moments, almost no one had been conscious of the soft buzzing of the President’s telephone signal, or of the fact that the executive had removed the receiver and was listening into the instrument.
Now, as Dr. Gresham reached the door, the President lifted a hand in a commanding gesture and cried: “Wait!”
The astronomer turned back into the room.
For a minute, perhaps, the President listened at the telephone; and as he did so the expression of his face underwent a grave change. Then, telling the person at the other end of the wire to wait, he addressed the gathering:
“The naval observatory at Georgetown is on the ’phone. There has just been another communication from ‘KWO.’ It says—”
The executive again spoke into the telephone: “Read the message once more, please!”
After a few seconds, speaking slowly, he repeated: