The catwalk painted on the lower wing guided them. Bell jumped to the rocks first, and stumbled, and then rose to lift Paula down and take The Master's small, frail body from Jamison's arms.
"You looked for a gun?" asked Bell
"He'd nothing to fight with," said Jamison heavily. He had been facing the same problem Bell had worked on desperately, and had found no answer. But he shuddered a little as he looked about the island.
There was nothing in sight but rock. No moss. No lichens. Not even stringy gra.s.s or the tufty scrub bushes that seemed able to grow anywhere.
Bell untied The Master, carefully but without solicitude. The little man sat up, and brushed himself off carefully, and arranged himself in a comfortable position.
"I am an old man," said The Master in mild reproach. "You might at least have given me a cushion to sit upon."
Bell sat down and lighted a cigarette with fingers that did not tremble in the least.
"Suppose," he said hardly, "you talk. First, of what your poison is made. Second, of what the antidote is made. Third, how we may be sure you tell the truth."
The Master looked at him with bright, shrewd, and apparently kindly old eyes.
"_Hijo mio_," he said mildly, "I am an old man. But I am obstinate. I will tell you nothing."
Bell's eyes glowed coldly.
"Does it occur to you," he asked grimly, "that it's too important a matter for us to have any scruples about? That we can--and will--make you talk?"
"You may kill me," said The Master benignly, "but that is all."
"And," said Bell, still more grimly, "we have only to get back in the plane yonder, and go away...."
The Master beamed at him. Presently he began to laugh softly.
"_Hijo mio_," he said gently, "let us stop this little byplay. You will take me back in my airplane, and you will land me at Punta Arenas. And then you will fly away. I concede you freedom, but that is all. You cannot leave me here."
"Paula," said Bell coldly, "get in the plane again. Jamison--"
Paula rose doubtfully. Jamison stood up. The Master continued to chuckle amiably.
"You see," he said cherubically, "you happen to be a gentleman, Senor Bell. Every man has some weakness. That is yours. And you will not leave me here to die, because you have killed my nephew, who was the only other man who knew how to prepare my little medicine. And you know, Senor, that all my subjects will wish to die. Those who do, in fact," he added mildly, "will be fortunate. The effect of my little medicine does not make for happiness without its antidote."
Bell's hands clenched.
"You know," said The Master comfortably, "that there are many thousands of people whose hands will writhe, very soon. The city of Punta Arenas will be turned into a snarling place of maniacs within a very little while--if I do not return. Would you like, Senor, to think in after days of that pleasant city filled with men and women tearing each other like beasts? Of little children, even, crouching, and crushing and rending the tender flesh of other little children? Of lisping little ones gone--"
"Stop!" snarled Bell, in a frenzy. "d.a.m.n your soul! You're right! I can't! You win--so far!"
"Always," said The Master benevolently. "I win always. And you forget, Senor. You have seen the worst side of my rule. The revolutions, the rebellions that have made men free, were they pretty things to watch?
Always, _amigo_, the worst comes. But when my rule is secure, then you shall see."
He waved a soft, beautifully formed hand. From every possible aspect the situation was a contradiction of all reason. The bare, black, salt encrusted rocks with no trace of vegetation showing. The gray water rumbling and surging among the uneven rocks at the base of the sh.o.r.e, while gulls screamed hoa.r.s.ely overhead. The white haired little man with his benevolent face, smiling confidently at the two grim men.
"The time will come," said The Master gently, and in the tone of utter confidence with which one states an inescapable fact, "the time will come when all the earth will know my rule. The taking of my little medicine will be as commonplace a thing as the smoking of tobacco, which I abhor, Senores. You are mistaken about there being an antidote and a poison. It is one medicine only. One little compound. A vegetable substance, Senor Bell, combined with a product of modern chemistry. It is a synthetic drug. Modern chemistry is a magnificent science, and my little medicine is its triumph. Even my deputies have not heard me speak so, Senores."
Bell snarled wordlessly, but if one had noticed his eyes they would have been seen to be curiously cool and alert and waiting. The Master leaned forward, and for once spoke seriously, almost reverently.
"There shall be a forward step, Senores, in the race of men. Do you know the difference between the brain of a man and that of an anthropoid ape? It consists only of a filmy layer of cortex, a film of gray nerve cells which the ape has not. And that little layer creates the difference between ape and man. And I have discovered more. My little medicine acts upon that film. Administered in the tiny quant.i.ties I have given to my slaves, it has no perceptible effect. It is merely a compound of a vegetable substance and a synthetic organic base. It is not excreted from the body. Like lead, it remains always in solution in the blood. But in or out of the blood it changes, always, to the substance which causes murder madness. Fresh or changed, my little medicine acts upon the brain."
He smiled brightly upon them.
"But though in tiny quant.i.ties it has but little effect, in larger quant.i.ties--when fresh it makes the functioning of the gray cells of the human brain as far superior to the unmedicated gray cells, as those human gray cells are to the white cells of the ape! That is what I have to offer to the human race! Intelligence for every man, which shall be as the genius of the past!"
He laughed softly.
"Think, Senores! Compare the estate of men with the estate of apes!
Compare the civilization which will arise upon the earth when men's brains are as far above their present level as the present level is above the anthropoid! The upward steps of the human race under my rule will parallel, will surpa.s.s the advance from the brutish caveman to intellectual genius. But I have seen, Senores, the one danger in my offering."
There was silence. Jamison shook his head despairingly. The Master could not see him. He formed the word with his lips.
"Crazy!"
But Bell said coldly:
"Go on."
"I must rule," said The Master soberly. "It is essential. If my little secret were known, intelligences would be magnified, but under many flags and with many aims. Scientists, with genius beside which Newton's pales, would seek out deadly weapons for war. The world would destroy itself of its own genius. But under my rule--"
"Men go mad," said Bell coldly.
The Master smiled reproachfully.
"Ah, you are trying to make me angry, so that I will betray something!
You are clever, Senor Bell. With my little medicine, in such quant.i.ties as I would administer it to you...."
"You describe it," said Bell harshly and dogmatically, "as a brain stimulant. But it drives men mad."
"To be sure," said The Master mildly. "It does. It is not excreted from the body save very, very slowly. But it changes in the blood stream. As--let us say--sugar changes into alcohol in digestion. The end-product of my little medicine is a poison which attacks the brain.
But the slightest bit of unchanged medicine is an antidote. It is"--he smiled amiably--"it is as if sugar in the body changed to alcohol, and alcohol was a poison, but sugar--unchanged--was an antidote. That is it exactly. You see that I have taken my little medicine for years, and it has not harmed me."
"Which," said Bell--and somehow his manner made utter silence fall so that each word fell separately into a vast stillness--"which, thank G.o.d, is the one thing that wins finally, for me!"