The Blind Spot by Homer Eon Flint and Austin Hall (black female authors txt) 📗

shall not say, contained—in that gem. Neither shall I say that they are reflected; they are simply reproduced there.

Also, it should be understood that their images are living. Only the heads and shoulders of the men are to be seen; but there is animation of the features, such as cannot be mistaken. Granted that these four vanished in the Blind Spot—whatever that is—and granted that this ring is some inexplicable window or vestibule between that locality and this commonplace world of ours, then, manifestly, it would seem that all four are still alive.

“I am sure of it!” declared Charlotte, managing to smile, wistfully, at the living reproduction of her sweetheart. “And I think Harry did perfectly right, in handing it to me to keep.”

“Why?”

“Well, if for no other reason than because it behaves so differently with me, than it did with him.

“Hobart, I am inclined to think that this fact is very significant. If Chick had only known of it, he wouldn't have insisted that Harry should wear it; and then—”

“Can't be helped,” I interrupted quickly. “Chick didn't know; he was only certain that someone—SOMEONE—must wear the ring; that it mustn't pass out of the possession of humans. Moreover, much as Rhamda Avec may desire it—and the Nervina, too—neither can secure it through the use of force. Nobody knows why.”

Charlotte shivered. “I'm afraid there's something spooky about it, after all.”

“Nothing of the sort,” with a conviction that has never left me. “This ring is a perfectly sound fact, as indisputable as the submarine. There's nothing supernatural about it; for that matter, I personally doubt if there's ANYTHING supernatural. Every phenomenon which seems, at first, so wonderful, becomes commonplace enough as soon as explained. Isn't it true that you yourself are already getting used to that ring?”

“Ye—es,” reluctantly. “That is, partly. If only it were someone other than Harry!”

“Of course,” I hurried to say, “I only wanted to make it clear that we haven't any witchcraft to deal with. This whole mystery will become plain as day, and that damned soon!”

“You've got a theory?”—hopefully.

“Several; that's the trouble!” I had to admit. “I don't know which is best to follow out.—It may be a spiritualistic thing after all. Or it may fall under the head of 'abnormal psychology'. Nothing but hallucinations, in other words.”

“Oh, that won't do!”—evidently distressed. “I know what I saw! I'd doubt my reason if I thought I'd only fancied it!”

“So would I. Well, laying aside the spiritualistic theory, there remains the possibility of some hitherto undiscovered scientific secret. And if the Rhamda is in possession of it, then the matter simmers down to a plain case of villainy.”

“But how does he do it?”

“That's the whole question. However, I'm sure of this”—I was fingering the ring as I spoke. The reproduction of our friends had faded, now, leaving that dully glowing pale blue light once more. “This ring is absolutely real; it's no hallucination. It performs as well in broad daylight as in the night; no special conditions needed. It's neither a fraud nor an illusion.

“In short, this ring is merely a phenomenon which science has not YET explained! That it can and will be explained is strictly up to us! Once we understand its peculiar properties, we can mighty soon rescue Harry!”

And it was just then that a most extraordinary thing occurred. It happened so very unexpectedly, so utterly without warning, that it makes me shaky to this day whenever I recall it.

From the gem on Charlotte's finger—or rather, from the air surrounding the ring—came an unmistakable sound. We saw nothing whatever; we only heard. And it was clear, as loud and as startling as though it had occurred right in the room where we were discussing the situation.

It was the sharp, joyous bark of a dog.