through. The satyrs will help, and they can advance through the scarlet circles. The Greeks knew a way of preventing that. It is a great pity that we have forgotten so much.”
On another sheet of paper, the most badly charred of the seven or eight fragments found by Detective Sergeant Douglas (of the Partridgeville Reserve), was scrawled the following:
“Good God, the plaster is falling! A terrific shock has loosened the plaster and it is falling. An earthquake perhaps! I never could have anticipated this. It is growing dark in the room. I must phone Frank. But can he get here in time? I will try. I will recite the Einstein formula. I will—God, they are breaking through! They are breaking through! Smoke is pouring from the corners of the wall. Their tongues—ahhhhh—”
In the opinion of Detective Sergeant Douglas, Chalmers was poisoned by some obscure chemical. He has sent specimens of the strange blue slime found on Chalmers’ body to the Partridgeville Chemical Laboratories; and he expects the report will shed new light on one of the most mysterious crimes of recent years. That Chalmers entertained a guest on the evening preceding the earthquake is certain, for his neighbor distinctly heard a low murmur of conversation in the former’s room as he passed it on his way to the stairs. Suspicion points strongly to this unknown visitor and the police are diligently endeavoring to discover his identity.
IV
Report of James Morton, chemist and bacteriologist:
My dear Mr. Douglas:
The fluid sent to me for analysis is the most peculiar that I have ever examined. It resembles living protoplasm, but it lacks the peculiar substances known as enzymes. Enzymes catalyze the chemical reactions occurring in living cells, and when the cell dies they cause it to disintegrate by hydrolyzation. Without enzymes protoplasm should possess enduring vitality, i.e., immortality. Enzymes are the negative components, so to speak, of unicellular organism, which is the basis of all life. That living matter can exist without enzymes biologists emphatically deny. And yet the substance that you have sent me is alive and it lacks these “indispensable” bodies. Good God, sir, do you realize what astounding new vistas this opens up?
V
Excerpt from The Secret Watchers by the late Halpin Chalmers:
What if, parallel to the life we know, there is another life that does not die, which lacks the elements that destroy our life? Perhaps in another dimension there is a different force from that which generates our life. Perhaps this force emits energy, or something similar to energy, which passes from the unknown dimension where it is and creates a new form of cell life in our dimension. No one knows that such new cell life does exist in our dimension. Ah, but I have seen its manifestations. I have talked with them. In my room at night I have talked with the Doels. And in dreams I have seen their maker. I have stood on the dim shore beyond time and matter and seen it. It moves through strange curves and outrageous angles. Some day I shall travel in time and meet it face to face.
The Red Fetish
Bill Cullen shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at the empty skyline. His arms, as he stood in the glittering light, showed scraggy and emaciated and his features were pinched and black. There had been strong winds blowing and enormous seas thundering on the beach, and the ferocity of the elements had accentuated his helplessness. He turned to his companion with a gesture of despair.
“Look here,” he said, “you know as well as I do that it is physically impossible for us to hang on without water. What do you say to a swim?”
Bill’s companion groaned and shook his head. He was a frightened, nervous little man with pointed fox-like ears, and people who knew him were prone to brand him a coward. His name, Wellington Van Wyck, did not raise him in the estimation of his friends.
Bill studied regretfully the thing that Van Wyck had become. It was not the lack of water that gave him discomfort. His sorrow lay in the fact that Van Wyck did not possess a capacity for blind enthusiasm.
“It’s only six miles,” he urged.
“There are cannibals on that island,” replied Van Wyck. “It’s down on the chart.”
Van Wyck was a little wild and he imagined that cannibals tore themselves to pieces over their ceremonies. Bill knew that cannibals were decent and clean and orderly; but there was no explaining that to Van Wyck. He dealt with him in another fashion.
“You’re as weak and flabby and spineless as a jellyfish with rheumatism,” said Bill. “You’re so unsavory that the cannibals wouldn’t eat you. Why don’t you kill yourself now, and be done with it? ’Twould be a good way to economize on food!”
Van Wyck scowled and sat down upon the beach. His eyes narrowed. “We are safer here,” he said. His lips were swollen and cracked and he spoke in a thin, small voice. He assured Bill that he could survive without luxuries. He said that two men could go three days on one pint of water, and that in three or four days anything might happen.
Nothing did happen. The three days went by like great white birds at sea, and the merciless glare of the sun made life a perfect misery. Bill looked grim. He squatted on the sands and watched the pale blue water foaming and bubbling in the lagoon, and his eyes glittered. Once he turned to Van Wyck and laughed. “It has green eyes,” he said. “I saw it watching us on the beach. It plays with the moon and its tentacles are long and gelatinous!”
Sea water affects some men like hashish. That morning Bill had crawled to the lagoon on his hands and knees and swallowed more salt than was good for him. Van Wyck had warned him that it wasn’t done,
