E. Nesbit

“ The time had come for this devilish machine to do its work, if it was ever to do it. And the vast pile would fall, as the temple of Gaza had fallen on the Philistines, and of all the people in the great house he and his bride, buried beneath thousands of tons of débris, would have the least chance of escape or rescue. Yet he had shot home the bolt, and her eyes loved him for it, even as the lowest stone of the pillar against which she was leaning swung open slowly like a door, revealing smooth polished wood and a keyhole. ”

“ The clock is timed to run thirteen weeks. When the large weight of this clock falls to a certain point, it closes a switch. The connection being made, the solenoids are energized and the couplings loosed, and the smash, as reported in the Sunday papers, is inevitable. The clock itself is concealed in the basement, in one of those massive pillars whose solidity has earned so many compliments. The slab which covers it is only released when the bolt on the inside of the basement door is shot right home. An ingenious idea, which ensures against interruption when I am winding my clock. ”

“ He timed his clock to go off to day. He meant the thing to happen on the twenty-seventh, only Saturday's the twenty-eighth. He timed it for Saturday; that's to-day. A motor would do it. Get a motor.”
“Be reasonable. At least have dinner,” he urged.
But she would not have dinner and she would not be reasonable. She insisted on a motor.
So he got a motor, and, once started for London, his mood changed. He took her in his arms, calling her the dearest, cleverest, foolishest, bravest. ”

“ There were eleven pillars, and all to the eye the same.
“Those other switches,” she said, and felt at the surface of the nearest pillar with quick, fluttering finger-tips. He turned on the switches at the other side of the vault.
“Oh, go back, my darling, go back!” he cried, as the light flashed brighter.
“Try the next pillar,” she urged; “feel for a hole that a key could go into.”
But there was nothing. All the pillars were smooth to the touch as far as their hands could reach. Only the faint unevenness of the lines of cement between the stones. They went over each pillar, quite in vain. ”

“ Panton had not known that Maskelyne had had a child at all.
“She was always laughing,” the great architect went on, in a dull, toneless voice. “Such a pretty little thing, and so loving. She used to look out for me coming home, and run out into the road before they could stop her, and jump at me, arms and legs, clinging on like a kitten. And I lost her.”
Then Panton said, “Is it long since she died, sir?” in a very respectfully sympathetic voice. And the great architect answered:—
“She didn't die; she left me. Never marry, Panton. Your children eat out your heart and live on it. ”

“ Other men have built; no man has built as I have built. I rely on you to send to all the best papers the following statement:—
“The reason of the sudden and complete collapse of the Arena Theatre is given by its architect, the late Reginald Maskelyne, in a letter dated the day before his death. Mr. Maskelyne's life had been ruined and wrecked by one of the wretched mummers we call actors, and be determined to be revenged on mummers and on the fools who flock to see them. To this end and to no other he designed his masterpiece, the Arena. ”

“ This circular girder, supported on thirty-eight pillars, was constructed in four parts, and bolted together in the usual way.
“You know all this. What you do not know is now to come. At two opposite joints of the circular girder certain holes were drilled in accordance with my drawings. These holes were explained to the workmen as mistakes—unimportant, since they could not weaken the girders. But they were not mistakes; they were the heart of my design. My design was to destroy the Arena and all the people in it by one simple act. ”

“ The motor was tearing along the Embankment when the bride spoke again.
“We mustn't waste time,” she said. “You quite understand that I am coming with you to that cellar?”
He protested—vainly.
“There will be no time to argue when we get there,” she told him quietly. “I’ve no one but you, Dick. I’m not going to send you where I won’t go myself.”
“Then I shall not go,” he said.
“And if you don’t go it will happen. All those people. Nothing can save them. We must go straight into your office and through the door he speaks of. You know the door?” ”

“ The completeness of the collapse will have been a mystery to all. You know that the great dome which covers the whole building is supported by a circular girder of double H section, with spokes radiating to the centre on which the finial and the gilt orb rest. The least expert can see that if this girder gives way the roof will fall in and the walls be pressed out. ”

“ He had a motor car, a circle of well-to-do acquaintances, a large, competent, aquiline wife—a Miss Antrobus she was, I believe—one of the brewing Antrobuses. He had all the material things for which men sell their souls and wear out their bodies. ”

“ He was a very popular man, kindly and generous, with a pleasant, if mediocre, wit, and a neat little talent for after-dinner oratory. A portly, well kept man, with a prosperous presence and a genial laugh. ”