Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [89]
“Has any kind of electrical treatment been tried?” I asked, turning to Dr. Curzon
“None,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Because,” I said, “I have seen similar effects produced on the skin by prolonged exposure to powerful X-rays, and the appearance of Durham’s face suggests that the skin might have been subjected to a powerful discharge from a focus tube.”
“There has been no electricity employed, nor has any stranger been near the patient.”
He was about to proceed, when I suddenly raised my hand.
“Hush!” I cried, “stay quiet a moment.”
There was immediately a dead silence in the room.
The dying man breathed more and more feebly. His face beneath the dreadful star-like markings looked as if he were already dead. Was I a victim to my own fancies, or did I hear muffled, distant and faint the sound I somehow expected to hear — the sound of a low hum a long way off? An ungovernable excitement seized me.
“Do you hear? Do you hear?” I asked grasping Curzon’s arm.
“I hear nothing. What do you expect to hear?” He said, fear dawning in his eyes.
“Who is in the next room through there?” I asked, bending over the sick man and touching the wall behind his head.
“That room belongs to the next house, sir,” said the nurse.
“Then, if that is so, we may have got the solution,” I said. “Curzon, Dufrayer, come with me at once.”
We hurried out of the room.
“We must get into the next house without a moment’s delay,” I said.
“Into the next house? You must be mad,” said the doctor.
“I am not. I have already told you that there is foul play in this extraordinary case, and a fearful explanation of Durham’s illness has suddenly occurred to me. I have given a great deal of time lately to the study of the effect of powerful cathode and X-rays. The appearance of the markings on Durham’s face are suspicious. Will you send a messenger at once to my house for my fluorescent screen?”
“I will fetch it,” said Dufrayer. He hurried off.
“The next thing to be done is to move the bed on which the sick man lies to the opposite side of the room,” I said.
Curzon watched me as I spoke, with a queer expression on his face.
“It shall be done,” he said briefly. We returned to the sick-room.
In less than an hour my fluorescent screen was in my hand. I held it up to the wall just where Durham’s bed had been. It immediately became fluorescent, but we could make nothing out. This fact, however, converted my suspicions into certainties.
“I thought so,” I said. “Who owns the next house?”
I rushed downstairs to question the servants. They could only tell me that it had been unoccupied for some time, but that the board “To let” had a month ago been removed. They did not believe that the new occupants had yet taken possession.
Dufrayer and I went into the street and looked at the windows. The house was to all appearance the counterpart of the one in which Durham lived. Dufrayer, who was now as much excited as I was, rushed off to the nearest fire-engine station, and quickly returned with an escape ladder. This was put up to one of the upper windows and we managed to get in. The next instant we were inside the house, and the low hum of a “make and break” fell on our ears. We entered a room answering to the one where Durham’s bedroom was situated, and there immediately discovered the key to the diabolical mystery.
Close against the wall, within a few feet of where the sick man’s bed had been, was an enormous focus tube, the platinum electrode turned so as to direct the rays through the wall. The machine was clamped in a holder, and stood on a square deal table, upon which also stood the most enormous induction coil I had ever seen. This was supplied from the main through wires coming from the electric light supplied to the house. This induction coil gave a spark of at least twenty-four inches.