The Poisoned Pen(Fiscle Part-3) by Arthur B. Reeve (top 10 motivational books .txt) 📕

Urgent Message Prevented It. I Did Not Take The Trouble Even To

Find Out How You Obtained That Little Globule Of Molten Gold From

The Crucible Of Alleged Copper. There Are So Many Tricks By Which

The Gold Could Have Been 'Salted' And Brought Forth At The Right

Moment That It Was Hardly Worth While. Besides,  I Had Satisfied

Myself That My First Suspicions Were Correct. See That?"

He Held Out The Little Piece Of Mineral I Had Already Seen In His

Hand In The Alchemist's Laboratory.

"That Is A Piece Of Willemite. It Has The Property Of Glowing Or

Fluorescing Under A Certain Kind Of Rays Which Are Themselves

Invisible To The Human Eye. Prescott,  Your Story Of The

Transmutation Of Elements Is Very Clever,  But Not More Clever Than

Your Real Story. Let Us Piece It Together. I Had Already Heard

From Dr. Burnham How Mr. Haswell Was Induced By His Desire For

Gain To Visit You And How You Had Most Mysteriously Predicted His

Blindness. Now,  There Is No Such Thing As Telepathy,  At Least In

This Case. How Then Was I To Explain It? What Could Cause Such A

Catastrophe Naturally? Why,  Only Those Rays Invisible To The Human

Eye,  But Which Make This Piece Of Willemite Glow--The Ultraviolet

Rays."

Kennedy Was Speaking Rapidly And Was Careful Not To Pause Long

Enough To Give Prescott An Opportunity To Interrupt Him.

"These Ultra-Violet Rays," He Continued,  "Are Always Present In An

Electric Arc Light Though Not To A Great Degree Unless The Carbons

Have Metal Cores. They Extend For Two Octaves Above The Violet Of

The Spectrum And Are Too Short To Affect The Eye As Light,

Although They Affect Photographic Plates. They Are The Friend Of

Man When He Uses Them In Moderation As Finsen Did In The Famous

Blue Light Treatment. But They Tolerate No Familiarity. To Let

Them--Particularly The Shorter Of The Rays--Enter The Eye Is To

Invite Trouble. There Is No Warning Sense Of Discomfort,  But From

Six To Eighteen Hours After Exposure To Them The Victim

Experiences Violent Pains In The Eyes And Headache. Sight May Be

Seriously Impaired,  And It May Take Years To Recover. Often

Prolonged Exposure Results In Blindness,  Though A Moderate

Exposure Acts Like A Tonic. The Rays May Be Compared In This

Double Effect To Drugs,  Such As Strychnine. Too Much Of Them May

Be Destructive Even To Life Itself."

Prescott Had Now Paused And Was Regarding Kennedy Contemptuously.

Kennedy Paid No Attention,  But Continued: "Perhaps These

Mysterious Rays May Shed Some Light On Our Minds,  However. Now,

For One Thing,  Ultra-Violet Light Passes Readily Through Quartz,

But Is Cut Off By Ordinary Glass,  Especially If It Is Coated With

Chromium. Old Mr. Haswell Did Not Wear Glasses. Therefore He Was

Subject To The Rays--The More So As He Is A Blond,  And I Think It

Has Been Demonstrated By Investigators That Blonds Are More

Affected By Them Than Are Brunettes.

"You Have,  As A Part Of Your Machine,  A Peculiarly Shaped Quartz

Mercury Vapour Lamp,  And The Mercury Vapour Lamp Of A Design Such

As That I Saw Has Been Invented For The Especial Purpose Of

Producing Ultra-Violet Rays In Large Quantity. There Are Also In

Your Machine Induction Coils For The Purpose Of Making An

Impressive Noise,  And A Small Electric Furnace To Heat The Salted

Gold. I Don't Know What Other Ingenious Fakes You Have Added. The

Visible Bluish Light From The Tube Is Designed,  I Suppose,  To

Hoodwink The Credulous,  But The Dangerous Thing About It Is The

Invisible Ray That Accompanies That Light. Mr. Haswell Sat Under

Those Invisible Rays,  Prescott,  Never Knowing How Deadly They

Might Be To Him,  An Old Man.

"You Knew That They Would Not Take Effect For Hours,  And Hence You

Ventured The Prediction That He Would Be Stricken At About

Midnight. Even If It Was Partial Or Temporary,  Still You Would Be

Safe In Your Prophecy. You Succeeded Better Than You Hoped In That

Part Of Your Scheme. You Had Already Prepared The Way By Means Of

A Letter Sent To Mr. Haswell Through Dr. Burnham. But Mr.

Haswell's Credulity And Fear Worked The Wrong Way. Instead Of

Appealing To You He Hated You. In His Predicament He Thought Only

Of His Banished Daughter And Turned Instinctively To Her For Help.

That Made Necessary A Quick Change Of Plans."

Prescott,  Far From Losing His Nerve,  Turned On Us Bitterly. "I

Knew You Two Were Spies The Moment I Saw You," He Shouted. "It

Seemed As If In Some Way I Knew You For What You Were,  As If I

Knew You Had Seen Mr. Haswell Before You Came To Me. You,  Too,

Would Have Robbed An Inventor As I Am Sure He Would. But Have A

Care,  Both Of You. You May Be Punished Also By Blindness For Your

Duplicity. Who Knows?"

A Shudder Passed Over Me At The Horrible Thought Contained In His

Mocking Laugh. Were We Doomed To Blindness,  Too? I Looked At The

Sightless Man On The Bed In Alarm.

"I Knew That You Would Know Us," Retorted Kennedy Calmly.

"Therefore We Came Provided With Spectacles Of Euphos Glass,

Precisely Like Those You Wear. No,  Prescott,  We Are Safe,  Though

Perhaps We May Have Some Burns Like Those Red Blotches On Mr.

Haswell,  Light Burns."

Prescott Had Fallen Back A Step And Mrs. Martin Was Making An

Effort To Appear Stately And End The Interview. "No," Continued

Craig,  Suddenly Wheeling,  And Startling Us By The Abruptness Of

His Next Exposure,  "It Is You And Your Wife Here--Mrs. Prescott,

Not Mrs. Martin--Who Must Have A Care. Stop Glaring At Each Other.

It Is No Use Playing At Enemies Longer And Trying To Get Rid Of

Us. You Overdo It. The Game Is Up."

Prescott Made A Rush At Kennedy,  Who Seized Him By The Wrist And

Held Him Tightly In A Grasp Of Steel That Caused The Veins On The

Back Of His Hands To Stand Out Like Whipcords.

"This Is A Deep-Laid Plot," He Went On Calmly,  Still Holding

Prescott,  While I Backed Up Against The Door And Cut Off His Wife;

"But It Is Not So Difficult To See It After All. Your Part Was To

Destroy The Eyesight Of The Old Man,  To Make It Necessary For Him

To Call On His Daughter. Your Wife's Part Was To Play The Role Of

Mrs. Martin,  Whom He Had Not Seen For Years And Could Not See Now.

She Was To Persuade Him,  With Her Filial Affection,  To Make Her

The Beneficiary Of His Will,  To See That His Money Was Kept

Readily Convertible Into Cash.

"Then,  When The Old Man Was At Last Out Of The Way,  You Two Could

Decamp With What You Could Realise Before The Real Daughter,  Cut

Off Somewhere Across The Continent,  Could Hear Of The Death Of Her

Father. It Was An Excellent Scheme. But Haswell's Plain,  Material

Newspaper Advertisement Was Not So Effective For Your Purposes,

Prescott,  As The More Artistic 'Telepagram,' As You Call It.

Although You Two Got In First In Answering The Advertisement,  It

Finally Reached The Right Person After All. You Didn't Get Away

Quickly Enough.

"You Were Not Expecting That The Real Daughter Would See It And

Turn Up So Soon. But She Has. She Lives In California. Mr. Haswell

In His Delirium Has Just Told Of Receiving A Telegram Which I

Suppose You,  Mrs. Prescott,  Read,  Destroyed,  And Acted Upon. It

Hurried Your Plans,  But You Were Equal To The Emergency. Besides,

Possession Is Nine Points In The Law. You Tried The Gas,  Making It

Look Like A Suicide. Jane,  In Her Excitement,  Spoiled That,  And

Dr. Burnham,  Knowing Where I Was,  As It Happened,  Was Able To

Summon Me Immediately. Circumstances Have Been Against You From

The First,  Prescott."

Craig Was Slowly Twisting Up The Hand Of The Inventor,  Which He

Still Held. With His Other Hand He Pulled A Paper From His Pocket.

It Was The Old Envelope On Which He Had Written Upon The Occasion

Of Our First Visit To Mr. Haswell When We Had Been So

Unceremoniously Interrupted By The Visit Of Dr. Scott.

"I Sat Here Yesterday By This Bed," Continued Craig,  Motioning

Toward The Chair He Had Occupied,  As I Remembered. "Mr. Haswell

Was Telling Dr. Scott Something In An Undertone. I Could Not Hear

It. But The Old Man Grasped The Doctor By The Wrist To Pull Him

Closer To Whisper To Him. The Doctor's Hand Was Toward Me And I

Noticed The Peculiar Markings Of The Veins.

"You Perhaps Are Not Acquainted With The Fact,  But The Markings Of

The Veins In The Back Of The Hand Are Peculiar To Each Individual-

-As Infallible,  Indestructible,  And Ineffaceable As Finger Prints

Or The Shape Of The Ear. It Is A System Invented And Developed By

Professor Tamassia Of The University Of Padua,  Italy. A

Superficial Observer Would Say That All Vein Patterns Were

Essentially Similar,  And Many Have Said So,  But Tamassia Has Found

Each To Be Characteristic And All Subject To Almost Incredible

Diversities. There Are Six General Classes--In This Case Before

Us,  Two Large Veins Crossed By A Few Secondary Veins Forming A V

With Its Base Near The Wrist.

"Already My Suspicions Had Been Aroused. I Sketched The

Arrangement Of The Veins Standing Out On That Hand. I Noted The

Same Thing Just Now On The Hand That Manipulated The Fake

Apparatus In The Laboratory. Despite The Difference In Make-Up

Scott And Prescott Are The Same.

"The Invisible Rays Of The Ultra-Violet Light May Have Blinded Mr.

Haswell,  Even To The Recognition Of His Own Daughter,  But You Can

Rest Assured,  Prescott,  That The Very Cleverness Of Your Scheme

Will Penetrate The Eyes Of The Blindfolded Goddess Of Justice.

Burnham,  If You Will Have The Kindness To Summon The Police,  I

Will Take All The Responsibility For The Arrest Of These People."

"What A Relief It Will Be When This Election Is Over And The

Newspapers Print News Again," I Growled As I Turned The First Page

Of The Star With A Mere Glance At The Headlines.

"Yes," Observed Kennedy,  Who Was Puzzling Over A Note Which He Had

Received In The Morning Mail. "This Is The Bitterest Campaign In

Years. Now,  Do You Suppose That They Are After Me In A

Professional Way Or Are They Trying To Round Me Up As An

Independent Voter?"

The Letter Which Had Called Forth This Remark Was Headed,  "The

Travis Campaign Committee Of The Reform League," And,  As Kennedy

Evidently Intended Me To Pass An Opinion On It,  I Picked It Up. It

Was Only A Few Lines,  Requesting Him To Call During The Morning,

If Convenient,  On Wesley Travis,  The Candidate For Governor And

The Treasurer Of His Campaign Committee,  Dean Bennett. It Had

Evidently Been Written In Great Haste In Longhand The Night

Before.

"Professional," I Hazarded. "There Must Be Some Scandal In The

Campaign For Which They Require Your Services."

"I Suppose So," Agreed Craig. "Well,  If It Is Business Instead Of

Politics It Has At Least This Merit--It Is Current Business. I

Suppose You Have No Objection To Going With Me?"

Thus It Came About That Not Very Much Later In The Morning We

Found Ourselves At The Campaign Headquarters,  In The Presence Of

Two Nervous And High-Keyed Gentlemen In