Astounding Stories of Super-Science 21

Astounding Stories of Super-Science 21

Coffee managed to find something to hold on to. He struggled to his

feet. Corporal Wallis, recovering from the certainty of death and the

torture of sound, was being very sea-sick from the tank's motion. The

prisoner moved away from him on the steel floor. He looked gloomily up

at Coffee.

 

"Listen to 'em," said Coffee bitterly. "Tanks! Tanks! Tanks! Hell! If

they'd given us infantry a chance--"

 

"You said it," said the prisoner savagely. "This is a hell of a way to

fight a war."

 

Corporal Wallis turned a greenish face to them.

 

"The infantry always gets the dirty end of the stick," he gasped. "Now

they--now they' makin' infantry ride in tanks! Hell!"

 

 

 

 

Invisible Death

 

_By Anthony Pelcher_

 

[Illustration: _Wildly racing through the night, missing other cars by a

breath, the visible car continued its pursuit of--what?_]

 

[Sidenote: On Lees' quick and clever action depended the life of "Old

Perk" Ferguson, the millionaire manufacturer threatened by the uncanny,

invisible killer.]

 

 

The inquest into the mysterious death of Darius Darrow, savant,

inventor, recluse and eccentric, resembled a scientific convention. Men

and women of high scientific attainment, and, in some instances, world

fame, attended to hear first hand the strange, uncanny, unbelievable

circumstances as hinted by the newspapers.

 

Mrs. Susan Darrow, the widow, was the paramount witness. She appeared a

quaint figure as she took the stand. Tearful, yet alert, this little

woman betrayed the intelligence that had made her one of the world's

foremost chemists. She gave her age as fifty-eight, but if it had not

been for her snowy hair she would have looked much younger. She was

small but not frail, and had expressive blue eyes. She had a firm little

nose and chin, and was garbed in black silk garments of a fashion

evidently dating back a decade.

 

Although not modern in dress, her answers to questions regarding

scientific and business affairs involved in the mysterious case, proved

she was thoroughly abreast of the times in all other particulars.

 

"You believe your husband was murdered?" bluntly asked the examiner at

one stage.

 

"That is my opinion," she said, then added: "It might have been some

scientific accident, the nature of which I cannot fathom. We were

confidential in all matters except my husband's work. He reserved the

right to be secretive about the scientific problems on which he was

working."

 

"Can you throw any light on a motive for such a crime?"

 

"The motive seems self-evident. He was working on an invention that he

said would do away with war and would make the owner of the device a

practical world dictator, should he choose to exercise such power. The

device was completed. The murderer killed him to secure his device. That

all seems plain enough."

 

"Was anything else of value taken?"

 

"We had nothing else of value about the place. I was never given to

jewelry. The furnishings and equipment were undisturbed. It is quite

evident, I think, that the thief was no ordinary petty burglar."

 

* * * * *

 

The attorney interposed: "I believe we had better let Mrs. Darrow tell

this story from the beginning in her own way. There are only two really

important witnesses. Whatever she can remember to recite might be of

value to the authorities. Now, Mrs. Darrow, how long had you lived at

Brooknook? Begin there and just let your story unfold. Try to control

your nerves and emotions."

 

"I am not emotional. I am not nervous," said the quaint little woman,

bravely. "My heart hurts, that is all.

 

"The place was named by my father. We inherited it at his death, thirty

years ago, and moved in. My two children were born and died there. At

first we kept the servants and maintained all of the thirty-two rooms.

But after the children were gone, we both gave ourselves over to study

and we began to close one room after another, releasing the servants one

by one."

 

"How many rooms do you occupy now?"

 

"We lived in three, a living-room, kitchen and bedroom. The two big

parlors were turned into a laboratory. We both worked there. It was

there my husband met his death at his work. Sometimes we worked

together, sometimes independently. I did all my own housework, except

the laundry, which I sent out. We had no visitors. We lived for each

other and our work."

 

"Tell us about the rooms that were not occupied."

 

"We left them just as they always had been. I have not been in any of

these rooms for twenty years. Once I looked into the little girl's

room--my daughter's room. It was dusty and cobwebby, but undisturbed by

human hand. My husband peered in over my shoulder. I closed the door. We

turned away in each other's arms."

 

* * * * *

 

Here the little old woman fell to weeping softly into her lace

handkerchief. Minutes lapsed as the court waited, respecting her grief.

 

"Were these rooms locked?" asked the attorney finally.

 

"No," said the widow, recovering, as she dabbed at her eyes. "We feared

no one. All the rooms were closed, but not locked. The outside doors

were seldom locked. We lived in our own world. For appearance sake we

kept up the grounds. Peck, the gardener, kept the grounds, as you know.

He called in outside help when necessary. This was his affair. We never

bothered him. He lived probably a half mile up the road. The first of

each month he would come for his pay. He was practically our only

visitor.

 

"When it was necessary to see our attorney or other connections, Peck

would drive us. At first he used to drive our horses. Ten years ago we

pastured the horses for life and bought the small car. We seldom went

out. We have no close friends and no relatives nearer than the Pacific

coast. They are distant cousins. You see, we were rather alone in the

world since the children went away--we never spoke of them as being

dead."

 

Again the court was hushed. The coroner and the attorney took occasion

to blow their noses rather violently.

 

"On May 27th, the day your husband died, what happened, as you

re-remember it?" asked the attorney.

 

"We arose and had breakfast as usual. I was puttering about the rooms.

My husband kissed me and started for the laboratory. I was in the

kitchen. It was about ten o'clock when I finished in the kitchen and

went into the living room which adjoins the laboratory. I had been

rather fretted, something unusual for me. It seemed I dimly sensed the

presence of someone near me, someone I did not know, an outsider. I

thought it was foolish of me and buckled up.

 

"But when I went into the living room, it seemed as if some invisible

presence were following me. I could hear the low hum of my husband's

device. The door of the laboratory was open. He called to me and said:

 

"'Sue dear, it seems strange, but I made two models of this set and now

I can find only one. You could not have misplaced the other by any

chance, could you?'

 

"I assured him I knew nothing of it and he said, 'Hum-m, that's funny.'

Then he went back into the library and closed the door. The humming

continued. I was more annoyed than ever, but I did not want to bother my

husband. Then a queer thing happened. I saw the door of the laboratory

open and close, but I did not see anyone. The next instant, I heard my

husband's outcry. It was more a groan than a scream.

 

* * * * *

 

"I rushed into the laboratory. My husband was lying by his slate-topped

table. The device, I noticed, was gone. It was no bigger than a

coffee-mill, I thought, as I bent over my husband. Strange how such a

thought could have crowded in at such a time.

 

"My husband's head was bleeding. It was cut, a long gash over the ear,

just below the bald spot. It must have been a frightful blow. I looked

in his eyes. My nurse's and pharmaceutical course gave me knowledge

which sent a chill to my heart. He was dead. I must have fainted.

 

"When I recovered I ran for Peck. I found him near the house, coming my

way and holding his right eye.

 

"'Something struck me,' he said. Then, seeing me so pale, he said, 'My

God! Mrs. Darrow, what has happened?'

 

"'Run for the doctor,' I said. When the doctor came he called the police

and coroner. They told me not to disturb the body. Later they took it

away, and the gardener told me--"

 

"Never mind what Peck told you," interrupted the attorney. "We will let

him tell it. Is that all you can tell us about the death itself?"

 

But the widow was weeping now, so violently that the court ordered her

excused.

 

* * * * *

 

The gardener was called and took the stand displaying a big, black eye,

which offered comedy relief to a pathetic situation.

 

"On the main road to the east," he began after preliminary questioning,

"was a small car which had been parked there all morning. I noticed it

because it had no license plates. It was visible from the inside of the

grounds, but was hidden from the road by a hedge. It made me wonder

because it was just inside our grounds.

 

"I had some very special red flags which I planted as a border back of

pink geraniums. They were doing fine. I got them from the Fabrish seed

house. There are no plants like Fabrish's--I wouldn't give a snap of my

finger for all the other--"

 

"Just a minute," interrupted the attorney. He told the gardener to never

mind the geraniums and flags, but to tell just what happened.

 

"Well, I was bending over the border bed when I heard sounds like

someone running along the gravel path towards me. I heard a humming like

a bumble bee and I jumped to my feet. Just then something hit me in the

eye and knocked me down. Yes sir, knocked me plumb down, and--"

 

"Then what happened? Never mind the asides, the extras--tell us just the

simple facts," instructed the attorney.

 

"Well, you won't believe it, but I heard the footsteps leave the road.

The geraniums were badly trampled. I looked at the parked automobile and

could hear the hum coming from there.

 

"The machine started and turned into the road--"

 

"Did you notice anyone at the wheel?"

 

"That's what you're not going to believe. There wasn't anybody in that

auto at all. I didn't see anyone at any time. The auto started itself,

and what is more, that auto only went about a hundred yards when it

disappeared altogether--like that--like a flash."

 

"Did it turn off the road?"

 

"I didn't turn anywhere. It was in the middle of the road. It just

disappeared right in the middle of the road. It started without a

driver, it turned north without a driver, and went on by itself for

about a hundred yards. Then it vanished in the middle of the road. Just

dropped out of sight."

 

The court-room was hushed. The audience and court attaches were awe

stricken and looked their incredulity.

 

"Do you mean to tell us that auto drove itself?" asked the court

sternly.

 

* * * * *

 

The witness was completely confused. The attorney came to his rescue,

looked at the court, and said:

 

"He has told that same story a hundred times, and he will stick to it.

It seems impossible, but has not Mrs. Darrow told us she heard this

humming and saw nothing? With the purely perfunctory recitals of the

doctor and the constabulary this court and the jury have heard all there

is to hear. We have no more witnesses. That is all there is.

 

"The jury will have to decide from the evidence whether this case is

accident or murder. The doctor and two experts have reported that the

wound appeared to have been made by some blunt instrument, swung

powerfully. The skull under the wound and back of the ear was simply

crushed. Death was instantaneous. It all happened in broad daylight."

 

After an hour's deliberation the jury decided the savant came to his

death in his laboratory from a blow on the skull received in some manner

unknown.

 

The crowd filed out, spiritedly discussing the unusual crime. In the

crowd was Perkins Ferguson, known as "Old Perk," head of the Schefert

Engineering Corporation, who paid royalty on some of the Darrow patents.

With him was Damon Farnsworth, his first vice-president.

 

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Farnsworth, biting into a black

cigar.

 

"Damned weird, isn't it?" replied "Old Perk." "I have my own theory,

however," he added, "but I am going to know a whole lot more about this

case before I venture it." The pair climbed into Ferguson's car

discussing the Darrow death case with furrowed brows.

 

* * * * *

 

What might be termed an extraordinary meeting of the directors of the

Schefert Engineering Corporation, was held a few days later in a big

building in the financial district.

 

The rich furnishings of the directors' room indicated, better than

Bradstreet's, the great wealth of the corporation. Uniformed pages stood

at attention at each end of the long, mahogany table at which were

seated the fourteen directors of the company. All were men of wealth,

standing and engineering knowledge. The departed Darrow often had been

summoned to such meetings, and at this one there was a hush because of

his recent demise.

 

After a batch of preliminary business had been transacted, Ferguson

arose and cleared his throat. The directors leaned forward in their

chairs expectantly. The page boys lost their mechanical attitude for the

instant and fairly craned their necks around the bulks of the forms in

front of them.

 

"The Darrow case has taken a sudden and sinister turn," said the

president. "I have a letter. I will read it:

 

"Old Perk: Get wise to yourself. We are in a position to destroy

you and all the pot-bellies in the Wall Street crowd. If you want

to die of old age, remember what happened to Darrow and begin

declaring us in on Wall Street dividends. If you do not you will

follow Darrow in the same way.

 

"Our first demand is for $100,000. Leave this amount in hundreds

and fifties in the rubbish can at the corner of 50th Street and

Broadway at 10 A. M. next Thursday. If you fail we will break your

damned neck. Bring the police with you if you like.

 

Invisible Death.

 

* * * * *

 

Ferguson passed the letter around for inspection. It was painstakingly

printed, evidently from the type in a rubber stamp set such as is sold

in toy stores.

 

"I have decided," said Perkins at length, "to give this case to Walter

Lees. He has never failed us in mechanical, chemical, or any form of

scientific problem. I hope he will not fail in this. He will work

independently of the police, who have requested that we keep the

appointment at 50th Street and Broadway at the hour named. We will

deposit a roll of newspapers, around which has been wrapped a fifty

dollar bill and then we will stand by while the awaiting detectives do

their duty."

 

"You do not think anyone is going to call for any supposed package of

money at one of the most congested corners in the world in broad

daylight?" asked a director at the end of the table.

 

"Why not?" asked Ferguson. "A seedy individual could pick a package from

a rubbish bin at that corner without attracting the least attention."

 

"I guess you're right," agreed the doubting one.

 

"I know I'm right," said the president. And he usually was.

 

"I have already arranged to have Lees instructed in his work," Ferguson

volunteered as a pause came in the buzz of conversation about the table.

"Lees is young, but he is capable." There was general discussion of the

strange case of Darius Darrow; the room filled with the blue haze of

many cigars.

 

Suddenly a low, humming sound was heard in the room.

 

Papers on the directors' table were bunched as if by unseen hands, and

thrown to the ceiling, from which they descended like flakes of snow and

scattered about the room.

 

A book of minutes was torn from the hands of a secretary. It was raised

and brought down on vice-president Farnsworth's head. A chair was pulled

out from under another direction and he was deposited in an undignified

heap on the floor.

 

Another director acted as though he had been tripped, and he fell on top

of Farnsworth. Two big vases crashed to the floor in bits. Other

decorative objects were scattered about.

 

The directors who had been hurtled to the floor stood up with

__EXPRESSION__s of comical surprise on their features. Their chairs

catapulted into a far corner of the room, one after the other.

 

Startled __EXPRESSION__s resounded from the group.

 

A small bookcase fell on its front with a crash of glass. Ferguson's

cane jumped in the air and crashed a window pane.

 

The humming ceased suddenly.

 

* * * * *

 

The room was a wreck. The assembled men stood aghast. They were simply

nonplussed. Finally they phoned for the police.

 

After hearing the strange recital from so many highly reputable

witnesses, a detective sergeant, who had responded to the call with

others, reported to headquarters.

 

A uniformed police guard was sent to the place with instructions to

remain on duty until relieved.

 

Ferguson sent for Walter Lees, the young engineer of whom he had spoken

to the directorate. Assigned to the task of unraveling the Darrow death

mystery, Lees ran true to form by getting busy at once. This was at

midnight of the day of the surprising directors' meeting. Lees owned a

big car; he piled into it and started for the scene of the crime.

 

Daybreak found him examining every inch of the road around the Darrow

estate. Then he searched the hedge along the east road, where the

phantom auto had disappeared after the crime. The brush along the

opposite side of the thoroughfare was also gone over.

 

Passing autos had stopped to ask the meaning of his flashlight. Lees

explained he had lost a pocketbook. It was as good an excuse as any and

served to keep him from drawing a crowd. He found nothing to reward his

long and painstaking efforts.

 

At seven A. M. he decided to interview the Darrow widow, and found her

already up and about her kitchen, weeping softly as she worked.

 

She bade him be seated in the living room.

 

"No, I am not afraid to stay here alone," she said in reply to Lees'

first question. "Whoever killed my husband did so to get possession of

his second model. They had already stolen the first. I have thought

since that they were afraid that the finding of the second model after

his death would aid in their detection. For some reason they had to have

both models."

 

She agreed to tell all she knew of the case. Lees listened to the long

recital as already recorded at the coroner's inquest. By adroit

questioning Lees gained just one new fact. Mrs. Darrow remembered that

she had called her husband, just before he retired to his laboratory, to

fix a towel hanger in the kitchen. "He found the pivot needed oiling,"

explained the widow. "That was all. He oiled it and went into the laboratory."