Blind Harry

“ Holcomb and Watson. I might even forego the secret. Would he release the doctor?”
“No, Harry, he would not.”
“I see. If I gave up the ring it would be merely for my personal safety. I am a coward--”
“Oh,” she said, “don’t say that. You must give the ring to me--not to the Rhamda. He must not control the Blind Spot.”
“What is the Blind Spot? Tell me.”
“Harry,” she spoke, “I cannot. It is not for you or any other mortal. It is a secret that should never have been uncovered. It might be the end. In the hands of the Rhamda it would certainly be the end of mankind.” ”

“ Holcomb.
“Perhaps it was the same fate that led me to Harry, that night. I don't know. Nevertheless, if there is any truth in what I have learned on the other side of the Blind Spot, it would seem that there is something higher than mere fate. I had never believed in luck; but when everything works out to a fraction of a breath, one ceases to be sceptical on the question of destiny and chance. I say, everything that happened that night was FORCED from the other side. In short, my giving that ring to Harry was simply a link in the chain of circumstances. ”

“ The air was vibrant, magnetic. There was no Watson. But we could hear his voice. Dim and fearful, coming down the corridors of time.
“Hold that ring, Harry! Hold that ring!” Then the faint despair out of the weary distance, faint, but a whole volume:
“The Blind Spot!”
It was over as quickly as that. The whole thing climaxed into an instant. It is difficult to describe. One cannot always analyse sensations. Mine, I am afraid, were muddled. A thousand insistent thoughts clashed through my brain. Horror, wonder, doubt! I have only one persistent and predominating recollection. The old lady! ”

“ Perhaps Chick, now--”
“Put me down as unprepared,” answered Chick. “I’m like Harry--I want to know!”
“Perhaps there are a lot of us in the same fix,” laughed Holcomb. “We, who know more than any men who ever lived, want to know still more! It may be, after all, that we know very little; even though we have solved the problem.” His eyes twinkled again, aggravatingly.
“Tell us, then!” from Harry, on impulse as always. “What is the Blind Spot?”
But Holcomb shook his head. “Not just now, Harry; we have company.”
The Geos and the Jan had entered. ”

“ Blame Lord Harry as you may, I tell you he has the capacity for repentance in him, and one day—when it is too late, I dare say—he will show it. I can never be his wife. We are parted, never in all likelihood to meet again. Well, he is the only man whom I have ever loved; and he is the only man whom I ever shall love. If you think this state of mind proves that I am as bad as he is, I won't contradict you. Do we any of us know how bad we are——? Have you heard of Harry lately? ”

“ That's the rub. I know Harry—I know him as a brother, and I want him so in fact. But I'd hate to trust that woman.”
Watson smiled.
“Never fear, Hobart, your sister is safe enough. The Nervina is not a woman. She is not of the flesh.”
“Brr,” said the doctor, “you give me the creeps.”
Watson reached for the brandy; he nodded to the doctor.
“Just a bit more of that stuff if you please. Whatever it is, on the last night one has no fear of habit. There—Now, gentlemen, if you will come with me, I shall take you to the house of the Blind Spot.” ”

“ You must not have it. It is death—yes, worse than death. No man may wear it.”
So that was it. Again and so soon I was to be tempted. Was her concern feigned or real? Why did she call me Harry? Why did I not resent it? She was wonderful; she was beautiful; she was pure. Was it merely a subtle act for the Rhamda? I could still hear Watson's voice ringing out of the Blind Spot; “Hold the ring! Hold the ring!” I could not be false to my friend.
“Tell me first,” I asked. “Who is this Rhamda? What is he? Is he a man?”
“No.”
Not a man! I remembered Watson's words: “A phantom!” ”

“ Blind Harry, a Scotch minstrel of the fifteenth century, blind from infancy. His epic of Sir William Wallace runs to 11,861 lines. He was minstrel in the court of James IV.
Blind Mechanician (The) . John Strong, a great mechanical genius, was blind from his birth. He died at Carlisle, aged sixty-six (1732-1798) .
Blind Poet (The) , Luigi Groto, an Italian poet called Il Cieco (1541-1585) . John Milton (1608-1674) .
Homer is called The Blind Old Bard (fl. B.C. 960) .
Blind Traveller (The) , lieutenant James Holman. ”

“ Miss Clarke, Mme. Le Fabre, General Hume, Dr. Malloy, and Herold. These people are still in the house with me; I think they are eating supper. I've already had mine. Really, I can't take much credit to myself for what I have found out. The others supplied most of the facts. I merely happened to fit them together; and, because of my relationship to the problem, am now doing the heroic end of the work.
As for Harry—he and Dr. Holcomb, Chick Watson and even the dog—I shall have them out of the Blind Spot inside of twelve hours. All I need is a little rest. ”

“ Jerome followed the professor and the Rhamda to the house of the Blind Spot, as he calls it. He’s not a man to fool. He had eyes and he saw it. He will not leave it till he’s dead.”
“But he did not see the Blind Spot, did he? How about trickery? Did it ever occur to you that the professor might have been murdered?”
“Take a look at that, Harry. Does that look like murder? When you see the man living?”
Watson reached over and turned up the jewel.
Here Hobart came in.
“Just a minute, Chick. My wise friend here is an attorney. He’s always the first into everything, especially conversation. ”

“ And while on the verge of the December sky, the wintry sun is trembling and about to set as if for ever, then is the Minstrel's voice heard sobbing amidst the sobs of his hearers, as he tells how his hero's sun went down while it was yet day.
'On Wednesday the false Southron furth brocht
To martyr him as they before had wrocht,
Of men in arms led him a full great rout,
With a bauld sprite guid Wallace blent about.'
There can be little doubt that Blind Harry, during his lifetime, became a favourite, nay, a power in the realm. ”

“ She drew away her hands. "I do trust you, Don; at least I have no reason to distrust you. I only say we must ask Father."
"They're in your little safe?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"And you'll not give them to me?"
"No."
He stared angrily; then he shrugged and laughed and went back to his desk and began gathering up his scattered papers. She stood indecisively watching him. Suddenly he looked up, and she saw that he had quite conquered his irritation, or at least had concealed it; his concern now seemed to be only over his relations with herself.
"We've not quarreled, Harry?" he asked. ”

“ It was dark when I reached San Francisco. I was a full twenty minutes early at the pier. A few people were waiting. I looked about for Harry. He was to meet me and I was certain that I would find him. But he was not there. Of course there was still time. He was sure to be on hand to greet Hobart.
Nevertheless, I had a vague mistrust. Since that strange visit I had not been sure. Harry wasn't well. There was something to this mystery that he had not told me. Why had he asked me to meet him at the pier? Why didn't he come? ”

“ Fanny murmured; "they will take their coffee, and in a few minutes they will be here."
When they came in a few minutes later, they had their cigars, and Lord Harry's face was slightly flushed, perhaps with the wine he had taken at breakfast—perhaps with the glass of brandy after his coffee.
The doctor threw himself into a chair and crossed his legs, looking thoughtfully at his patient. Lord Harry stood over him.
"Every day," he said, "the man gets better."
"He has got better every day, so far," said the doctor.
"Every day his face gets fatter, and he grows less like me." ”

“ I die, Iris dear, with the death of that hope. Something in me seems to shrink from suicide in the ugly gloom of great overgrown London. I prefer to make away with myself among the fields, where the green will remind me of dear old Ireland. When you think of me sometimes, say to yourself the poor wretch loved me—and perhaps the earth will lie lighter on Harry for those kind words, and the flowers (if you favour me by planting a few) may grow prettier on my grave. ”

“ At the time when Lord Harry's carriage stopped at his house-door, he was in the dining-room, taking a bottle of brandy from the cellaret in the sideboard. Looking instantly out of the window, he discovered who the visitor was, and decided on consulting his instructions in the pocket-diary. The attempt was rendered useless, as soon as he had opened the book, by the unlucky activity of the servant in answering the door. Her master stopped her in the hall. He was pleasantly conscious of the recovery of his cunning. ”

“ Over! Under! Look out! Now you’ve got him! Harry! Harry! Look out! Hold him, for the love of Heaven I see his trick. That’s his trick. The Blind Spot!”
We were rolled clear over, picked, heaved, shoved against the front wall. There were three! The great heaving bulk of Fenton; the fighting tiger between us; and myself! Surely such strength was not human; we could not pin him; his quickness was uncanny; he would uncoil, twist himself and throw us loose. Gradually he worked us away from the front wall and into the centre of the room.
Could any mere man fight so? Hobart was as good as a ton ”

“ Hobart spoke up.
“What is it, Chick? I think I know what you mean. The old boy was honest?”
“Exactly. He had been a scholar all his life. He taught ethics. He believed in right. He practised his creed. When he came to the crucial experiment he found himself dealing with a rogue. The Rhamda helped him just so far; but once he had the professor in his power it was not his purpose to release him until he was secure of the Blind Spot.”
“I see,” I spoke. “The man is a villain. I think we can handle him.”
But Watson shook his head.
“That's just it, Harry! The man! ”

“ Indeed you expose yourself unduly—”
“When death threatens from without, a man may smile at it. But when death knocks from within, Harry, thrice fool who does not hearken!”
“Sir, you alarm me.” Harry’s voice shook. “Oh, [355] I have been blind! Your white hairs, your altered demeanour, are sure signs of suffering—some hidden sickness!”
“Even so, lad. Sickness incurable! A secret pain that gives no rest, night nor day. Nay, nay, Harry, no physician can avail, no remedy ease—”
“Ah,” exclaimed the son in bitter accents, “now I understand much. ”

“ X. — MAN OR PHANTOM
It was Hobart who came to first. His voice was good to hear. It was natural; it was sweet and human, but it was pregnant with disappointment: “We are fools, Harry; we are fools!”
But I could only stare. I remember saying: “The Blind Spot?”
“Yes,” returned Hobart, “the Blind Spot. But what is it? We saw him go. Did you see it?”
“It gets me,” I answered. “He just vanished into space. It—” Frankly I was afraid.
“It tallies well with the reports. The old lady and Jerome. Remember?”
“And the bell?” I looked about the room.
“Exactly. Phenomena! Watson was right. ”

“ I said, “that the stranger--Rhamda Avec--is an out-and-out villain. Despite his agreeable ways, I think he was solely and deliberately to blame for Professor Holcomb’s disappearance. Consequently, this Rhamda is, in himself, a very valuable clue as to Harry’s present predicament.”
Referring to Harry’s notes, I pointed out the fact that, although Avec had often been seen on the streets of San Francisco, yet the police had never been able to lay hands on him. This seemed to indicate that the man might possess the power of actually making himself visible or invisible, at will. ”

“ Now there are three!' There—now.” He turned to me. “Can you hear it, Charlotte? No? How strange. Perhaps—” He pointed to the corner of the room. “That paper. Will you—”
I shall always go over that moment. I have thought over it many times and have wondered at the sequence. Had I not stepped across the library, what would have happened?
What was it.
I had stooped to pick up the piece of paper. There came a queer, cracking, snapping sound, almost audible, I have a strange recollection of Harry standing up by the side of the desk—a flitting vision. An intuition of some terrible force. ”

“ I live at Royd Castle with my mother and grandmother."
"Oh yes, of course; you're Sir Harry Brent. Mrs. Ivimey has talked about you.
"My name is Viola Bastian. My father called me that out of a beautiful poem. He is an artist, but nobody buys his pictures, so he paints scenery at a theatre. We are very poor."
It didn't seem odd to Harry that this beautiful girl, whose speech was refined and whose clothes were such as a sister or cousin of his own might have worn, should be the daughter of a scene painter, who was also very poor. ”

“ But once Harry was inside the sacred precincts, guarded by the four plastered walls, he was no longer the good fellow sought by his schoolmates, but the victim of initiation—and before he had performed all the stunts which were put up to him, it was early in the morning. And when he made his way to his aunt’s house, it was not the carefree boy who had been borne forth on the shoulders of his friends, but a youth, bedraggled, and with a more proper appreciation of his utter insignificance in the scheme of life. ”

“ For the instant, the dead triumphed over the living.
Then Harry took up the lamp and went to his own room. He set the lamp on the dresser, and looked at his face, with the rays thrown upward upon it, very much as Maria had done the night of her mother's death. When he viewed himself in the looking-glass, he smiled involuntarily; the appearance of youth returned. He curled his mustache and moved his head this way and that. He thought about some new clothes which he was to have. He owned to himself, with perfect ingenuousness, that he was, in his way, as a man, as good-looking as Ida herself. ”