Also, you know it is some time since--I mean, there are no pier-gla.s.ses in Orofena."
"The man was you," went on Bickley with conviction. "If I were superst.i.tious I should think it a queer sort of omen. But as I am not, I know that I must be mad."
"Why? After all, an ancient man and a modern man might resemble each other."
"There are degrees in resemblance," said Bickley with one of his contemptuous snorts. "It won"t do, Humphrey, my boy," he added. "I can only think of one possible explanation--outside of the obvious one of madness."
"What is that?"
"The Glittering Lady produced what Bastin called that cinematograph show in some way or other, did she not? She said that in order to do this she loosed some hidden forces. I suggest that she did nothing of the sort."
"Then whence did the pictures come and why?"
"From her own brain, in order to impress us with a c.o.c.k-and-bull, fairy-book story. If this were so she would quite naturally fill the role of the lover of the piece with the last man who had happened to impress her. Hence the resemblance."
"You presuppose a great deal, Bickley, including supernatural cunning and unexampled hypnotic influence. I don"t know, first, why she should be so anxious to add another impression to the many we have received in this place; and, secondly, if she was, how she managed to mesmerise three average but totally different men into seeing the same things. My explanation is that you were deceived as to the likeness, which, mind you, I did not recognise; nor, apparently, did Bastin."
"Bastin never recognises anything. But if you are in doubt, ask Yva herself. She ought to know. Now I"m off to try to a.n.a.lyse that confounded Life-water, which I suspect is of the ordinary spring variety, lightened up with natural carbonic acid gas and possibly not uninfluenced by radium. The trouble is that here I can only apply some very elementary tests."
So he went also, in an opposite direction to Bastin, and I was left alone with Tommy, who annoyed me much by attempting continually to wander off into the cave, whence I must recall him. I suppose that my experiences of the day, reviewed beneath the sweet influences of the wonderful tropical night, affected me. At any rate, that mystical side of my nature, to which I think I alluded at the beginning of this record, sprang into active and, in a sense, unholy life. The normal vanished, the abnormal took possession, and that is unholy to most of us creatures of habit and tradition, at any rate, if we are British. I lost my footing on the world; my spirit began to wander in strange places; of course, always supposing that we have a spirit, which Bickley would deny.
I gave up reason; I surrendered myself to unreason; it is a not unpleasant process, occasionally. Supposing now that all we see and accept is but the merest fragment of the truth, or perhaps only a refraction thereof? Supposing that we do live again and again, and that our animating principle, whatever it might be, does inhabit various bodies, which, naturally enough, it would shape to its own taste and likeness? Would that taste and likeness vary so very much over, let us say, a million years or so, which, after all, is but an hour, or a minute, in the aeons of Eternity?
On this hypothesis, which is so wild that one begins to suspect that it may be true, was it impossible that I and that murdered man of the far past were in fact identical? If the woman were the same, preserved across the gulf in some unknown fashion, why should not her lover be the same? What did I say--her lover? Was I her lover? No, I was the lover of one who had died--my lost wife. Well, if I had died and lived again, why should not--why should not that Sleeper--have lived again during her long sleep? Through all those years the spirit must have had some home, and, if so, in what shapes did it live? There were points, similarities, which rushed in upon me--oh! it was ridiculous. Bickley was right. We were all mad!
There was another thing. Oro had declared that we were at war with Germany. If this were so, how could he know it? Such knowledge would presume powers of telepathy or vision beyond those given to man. I could not believe that he possessed these; as Bickley said, it would be past experience. Yet it was most strange that he who was uninformed as to our national history and dangers, should have hit upon a country with which we might well have been plunged into sudden struggle. Here again I was bewildered and overcome. My brain rocked. I would seek sleep, and in it escape, or at any rate rest from all these mysteries.
On the following morning we despatched Bastin to keep his rendezvous in the sepulchre at the proper time. Had we not done so I felt sure that he would have forgotten it, for on this occasion he was for once an unwilling missioner. He tried to persuade one of us to come with him--even Bickley would have been welcome; but we both declared that we could not dream of interfering in such a professional matter; also that our presence was forbidden, and would certainly distract the attention of his pupil.
"What you mean," said the gloomy Bastin, "is that you intend to enjoy yourselves up here in the female companionship of the Glittering Lady whilst I sit thousands of feet underground attempting to lighten the darkness of a violent old sinner whom I suspect of being in league with Satan."
"With whom you should be proud to break a lance," said Bickley.
"So I am, in the daylight. For instance, when he uses your mouth to advance his arguments. Bickley, but this is another matter. However, if I do not appear again you will know that I died in a good cause, and, I hope, try to recover my remains and give them decent burial. Also, you might inform the Bishop of how I came to my end, that is, if you ever get an opportunity, which is more than doubtful."
"Hurry up, Bastin, hurry up!" said the unfeeling Bickley, "or you will be late for your appointment and put your would-be neophyte into a bad temper."
Then Bastin went, carrying under his arm a large Bible printed in the language of the South Sea Islands.
A little while later Yva appeared, arrayed in her wondrous robes which, being a man, it is quite impossible for me to describe. She saw us looking at these, and, after greeting us both, also Tommy, who was enraptured at her coming, asked us how the ladies of our country attired themselves.
We tried to explain, with no striking success.
"You are as stupid about such matters as were the men of the Old World,"
she said, shaking her head and laughing. "I thought that you had with you pictures of ladies you have known which would show me."
Now, in fact, I had in a pocket-book a photograph of my wife in evening-dress, also a miniature of her head and bust painted on ivory, a beautiful piece of work done by a master hand, which I always wore.
These, after a moment"s hesitation, I produced and showed to her, Bickley having gone away for a little while to see about something connected with his attempted a.n.a.lysis of the Life-water. She examined them with great eagerness, and as she did so I noted that her face grew tender and troubled.
"This was your wife," she said as one who states what she knows to be a fact. I nodded, and she went on:
"She was sweet and beautiful as a flower, but not so tall as I am, I think."
"No," I answered, "she lacked height; given that she would have been a lovely woman."
"I am glad you think that women should be tall," she said, glancing at her shadow. "The eyes were such as mine, were they not--in colour, I mean?"
"Yes, very like yours, only yours are larger."
"That is a beautiful way of wearing the hair. Would you be angry if I tried it? I weary of this old fashion."
"Why should I be angry?" I asked.
At this moment Bickley reappeared and she began to talk of the details of the dress, saying that it showed more of the neck than had been the custom among the women of her people, but was very pretty.
"That is because we are still barbarians," said Bickley; "at least, our women are, and therefore rely upon primitive methods of attraction, like the savages yonder."
She smiled, and, after a last, long glance, gave me back the photograph and the miniature, saying as she delivered the latter:
"I rejoice to see that you are faithful, Humphrey, and wear this picture on your heart, as well as in it."
"Then you must be a very remarkable woman," said Bickley. "Never before did I hear one of your s.e.x rejoice because a man was faithful to somebody else."
"Has Bickley been disappointed in his love-heart, that he is so angry to us women?" asked Yva innocently of me. Then, without waiting for an answer, she inquired of him whether he had been successful in his a.n.a.lysis of the Life-water.
"How do you know what I was doing with the Life-water? Did Bastin tell you?" exclaimed Bickley.
"Bastin told me nothing, except that he was afraid of the descent to Nyo; that he hated Nyo when he reached it, as indeed I do, and that he thought that my father, the Lord Oro, was a devil or evil spirit from some Under-world which he called h.e.l.l."
"Bastin has an open heart and an open mouth," said Bickley, "for which I respect him. Follow his example if you will, Lady Yva, and tell us who and what is the Lord Oro, and who and what are you."
"Have we not done so already? If not, I will repeat. The Lord Oro and I are two who have lived on from the old time when the world was different, and yet, I think, the same. He is a man and not a G.o.d, and I am a woman. His powers are great because of his knowledge, which he has gathered from his forefathers and in a life of a thousand years before he went to sleep. He can do things you cannot do. Thus, he can pa.s.s through s.p.a.ce and take others with him, and return again. He can learn what is happening in far-off parts of the world, as he did when he told you of the war in which your country is concerned. He has terrible powers; for instance, he can kill, as he killed those savages. Also, he knows the secrets of the earth, and, if it pleases him, can change its turning so that earthquakes happen and sea becomes land, and land sea, and the places that were hot grow cold, and those that were cold grow hot."
"All of which things have happened many times in the history of the globe," said Bickley, "without the help of the Lord Oro."
"Others had knowledge before my father, and others doubtless will have knowledge after him. Even I, Yva, have some knowledge, and knowledge is strength."
"Yes," I interposed, "but such powers as you attribute to your father are not given to man."
"You mean to man as you know him, man like Bickley, who thinks that he has learned everything that was ever learned. But it is not so. Hundreds of thousands of years ago men knew more than it seems they do today, ten times more, as they lived ten times longer, or so you tell me."
"Men?" I said.
"Yes, men, not G.o.ds or spirits, as the uninstructed nations supposed them to be. My father is a man subject to the hopes and terrors of man.
He desires power which is ambition, and when the world refused his rule, he destroyed that part of it which rebelled, which is revenge. Moreover, above all things he dreads death, which is fear. That is why he suspended life in himself and me for two hundred and fifty thousand years, as his knowledge gave him strength to do, because death was near and he thought that sleep was better than death."
"Why should he dread to die," asked Bickley, "seeing that sleep and death are the same?"