C. Paulon: The Blue Laboratory

(Paul Combes)

(1898)

 

 

Miss Madeline Rennick was an orphan, who no longer had any close relatives, and who made her living in London—with some difficulty—giving private lessons. So, when Dr. Chance, an English-born naturalized Russian living in St. Petersburg, offered her a hundred pounds sterling a year to provide an education for his two daughters, she resolved to accept the situation without a minute’s hesitation.

She said goodbye to her friends, and packed her trunk. She took with her, among other things, a small revolver with a silver handle, and fifty bullets.

She arrived in St, Petersburg without any mishap. Dr. Chance was waiting for her at the station. He was a rather handsome man, but myopic, having passed fifty.

He greeted the governess with cold politeness, gave instructions for her luggage, and took her directly to his residence on the Ligovsky Canal. There, the young woman was received by Madame Chance, a woman who seemed to be, in every respect, the opposite of her husband. She was half-Russian and half-German by birth, conducted herself in a manner full of curiosity, and was also as uncongenial as possible.

Miss Madeline’s two pupils were pretty girls, though. The older was tall and had her father’s dark eyes; she had a beautiful frank expression; her name was Olga. The younger was shorter, with sharp features; she was called Maroussa. Both spoke English quite well, and the warmth of their welcome made the governess forget their mother’s indifference.

It was about a month after her arrival in St. Petersburg when Maroussa said to her one afternoon: “You must find it terribly dreary here?”

“Not at all,” the governess replied. “I’ve wanted to see Russia for a long time.”

“You know, of course, that our father in English, He’s been living in Russia since the age of thirty. He’s a great scientist. How your eyes shine, Miss Madeline! Is it because science interests you?”

“I took a course in science at Girton,” the young Englishwoman replied—and she returned her attention to the Russian novel that she was reading.

At that moment, a coldly polite voice spoke almost in her ear. She looked up, and to her great astonishment saw that Dr. Chance, who never—or hardly ever—favored the female gatherings of his family with his presence, had come into the room.

“Did I hear correctly?” he said. “Is it possible that a young lady like you is interested in scientific matters?”

“I like science immensely,” Miss Madeline replied.

“It gives me great pleasure to learn that. The fact is that I came expressly to ask you to do me a favor. At times, I experience an intolerable pain in the right eye. If I make use of it, on such occasions, the agony becomes worse. I’m suffering that torture today. Would you come downstairs and act as my secretary for a few moments?”

“Certainly—I’d like that.”

Immediately, Dr. Chance headed for the door, beckoning Miss Madeline to follow him. Two minutes later, she found herself in his study. It was a vast room, whose walls were garnished with shelves laden with books from floor to ceiling, only interrupted by a large window that let in an abundant light, and a door leading to some mysterious room situated beyond.

“My laboratory!” said the doctor, seeing the young woman’s gaze stray in that direction. “Someday, I’ll have the pleasure of showing it to you. Now will you please write to my dictation?”

“Yes. In shorthand?”

“Certainly—that’s capital! I beg you to give me your closest attention; the article I’m going to dictate to you has to be in the post to England this evening. It’s due to appear in the Science Gazette. Since you’re interested in such things, I’ll tell you what its subject is. Miss Rennick, I’ve discovered a method of photographing thought!”

The governess was gripped by astonishment at this confidence. The doctor perceived her amazement; his eyes shone as if emitting sparks.

“You don’t believe me,” he said, “and in that, you’re like the majority of the public to whom I’ve made appeal. I’ll doubtless be held in derision in England…but let’s wait until the end. I can prove what I’m saying, but not yet…not yet... Are you ready?”

“I’m all ears,” Miss Madeline replied.

The doctor’s face brightened; he sat down on his sofa and began to dictate, while the governess rapidly noted down his every word. An hour later, he stopped.

“That’s all!” he said. “Now would you like to transcribe in clear, in your best handwriting, everything that I’ve just dictated. When the young woman nodded, he added: “Accept, if you please, these ten roubles, for the pleasure and the collaboration you’ve given me. Not a word of protest! I’m still in your debt.” He fixed Miss Madeline with a long and profound stare, and departed slowly.

It took the young woman more than two hours to transcribe the sentences that had flowed so easily from the doctor’s lips. When the task was finished, she went back up to the drawing-room.

When she went in, Olga and Maroussa ran to her. “Tell us what happened!” the demanded.

“But I’ve nothing to tell you.”

“Impossible! You’ve been gone for five hours.”

“Yes, and during that time, your father dictated a piece of work to me, which I took down in shorthand. Then I transcribed it I clear, and I left it on his desk.”

“Please Miss,” said Olga, “tell us what the subject of our father’s article was.”

“I’m not at liberty to do that, Olga.”

Olga and Maroussa looked at one another. Then Olga took the governess’s hand. “Listen,” she murmured, “we have something to tell you. Later, you’ll often go into the laboratories...”

“Is there more than one, then?”

“Yes. Now, please pay attention. You understand that our father will ask you to help him often. He’ll probably also ask you to assist him in his experiments in chemistry. But our father has another laboratory, which you haven’t yet seen: the blue laboratory, about which we need to talk to you. We have a secret, Maroussa and I, which relates directly to that laboratory. It weighs upon us, sometimes heavily.”

While she was speaking, Olga shivered, and Maroussa’s face became very pale. “Will you hear us out?” she added.

“Certainly—and I promise to respect your secret.”

“Then I’ll tell you everything, as briefly as possible.

“About two months ago, a few gentlemen came to dine with us. They were Germans, and they were very learned. One of them is called Dr. Schopenhauer; he’s a great scientist. When the wine was on the table, they began to talk about something that made my father angry. Soon, they all began quarreling. It was amusing to listen to them. They went red, and our father went pale.

“Our father said: ‘I can prove what I’m saying.’ I’m sure that they’d forgotten everything, even our existence. Suddenly, our father got up and said: ‘Come with me, gentlemen. I’m in a position to make my thesis absolutely clear.’

“They all went out of the dining room then, and went into the doctor’s study. Our mother said that she had a headache, and retired to her boudoir, but Maroussa and I were very excited, and we slipped into the study after the scientists. None of them had stayed in the first room. They had gone into the laboratory, whose door you’ve already seen. At the far end, a door was open, leading to a long corridor. The scientists and our father, absorbed by their preoccupations, went into it. Maroussa and I followed them.

“Our father took a key out of his pocket and opened a door in the wall. We found ourselves on the threshold of another laboratory, two or three times as large as the one we’d just left. In one of the corners, there was an extraordinary dome of some sort, projecting from under the floor. Maroussa and I noticed it as soon as we went into the room. Fearing that we’d be sent away, we slipped behind a big screen and waited there, while our father and the scientists talked to one another about their secrets.

“Suddenly, Maroussa, who has always had a mischievous streak, suggested that we stay there, in order to examine the place at our ease when our father and the Germans had gone. I don’t know why I agreed to carry out that bold plan, for our father, when he left, would certainly lock us in—but we completely forgot that detail. After a short time, he appeared to have given the gentlemen satisfaction, and they all left the laboratory as rapidly as they had come. Our father switched off the electric light and we found ourselves in the dark.

“We heard the sound of footsteps drawing away along the corridor. We stood up, full of gaiety and mischief, and I said to Maroussa: ‘Now let’s switch the light back on!’”

Overcome by a sudden emotion, Olga fell silent. She continued in a hesitant voice: “We hadn’t taken two steps into the room when—oh, Miss Madeline! What do you think happened? We heard a knocking sound that resonated as if it came from a floor situated beneath our feet. It came from the direction of the strange dome I told you about. A desperate voice shouted, three times: ‘Help! Help! Help!’

“We were terrified, and all our bravado vanished. Maroussa fell to the ground and I uttered the sharpest screech that a human throat can produce. It was so piecing that our father heard it. The knocking ceased, and we heard our father’s footsteps coming back.

“When he opened the door, Maroussa was on the floor, groaning, pointing her finger at the dome. She was too frightened to be able to talk, but I cried: ‘There’s someone shut in there, under that dome in the corner. I distinctly heard someone knocking, and then a voice shouted Help! three times!’”

“‘Crazy!’ said our father. ‘There’s nothing in there. Come here this instant.’

“He shoved us out of the laboratory, locked the door, and ordered us to go back to our mother. We told her everything, but she also said that it was crazy, and seemed very angry. She didn’t even try to console Maroussa, who was crying—I’m the one who had to comfort my sister...

“But that night, Miss Madeline, we heard that cry again in our dreams, and it’s haunted us ever since. Miss Madeline, if you help our father, he’ll certainly take you to the blue laboratory. If he ever does, I beg you, look and listen, and tell us—oh, tell us!—whether you can also hear that terrible, distressing voice!”

Olga fell silent; her face was white, and her forehead was covered with beads of sweat.

Miss Madeline promised to shed some light on what had just been revealed to her, and indeed, from that time on, it seemed to her that she had an important mission to fulfill. There had been something in Olga’s physiognomy while she told her story that rendered the governess absolutely certain that her pupil was telling the truth. The young Englishwoman therefore resolved to be prudent and vigilant, to act cautiously, and, if possible, to discover the secret of the blue laboratory.

To that end, she rendered herself agreeable and useful to Dr. Chance. Many times, when his eyes made him suffer, the scientist had recourse to her secretarial skills, and on each of those occasions he gave her ten roubles for her trouble. During these conversations, however—and Miss Madeline often remained with the doctor for quite a long time—she never could never penetrate his confidence to any extent at all. Never, even for a minute, did he lift the veil that hid his true character from every gaze—except once; and the story of that incident is the principal object of this narrative.

From the viewpoint of an ordinary observer, Dr. Chance was a man of good, even refined manners, but cold. From time to time, in truth, one could see his eyes shine as if they were quartz crystals from which a sudden shock had drawn sparks. From time to time, too, his gaze became anxious and his lips taut, while moisture pealed on his forehead, when an experiment in which Miss Madeline assisted him promised to present an exceptional interest.

Eventually, one afternoon, he had to do some very important work in the blue laboratory. He asked the governess to assist him, and asked her to follow him.

It was, with no fear of contradiction, a very well-organized laboratory. Three of the walls were garnished with shelves supporting all kinds of apparatus: Bunsen burners, porcelain bowls, balances, microscopes, bottles, jars, mortars, flasks—in a word, everything necessary for carrying out the rituals of chemistry.

In one corner, in conformity with young Olga’s description, there was a strange dome, between one meter and one meter fifty tall, covered with a black cloth reminiscent of a cloak.

That was the first time that Miss Madeline had worked with the doctor in the blue laboratory, but after that afternoon, she returned there with him on many occasions, and became quite familiar with the room.

Finally, one day, the scientist was obliged to leave the young woman alone in the laboratory for a few minutes. Miss Madeline was, by nature, full of courage; she did not waste a moment in taking advantage of the unexpected opportunity. As soon as the doctor left the room she bounded to the mysterious dome and, lifting the black veil, she saw that it was covering a glazed frame doubtless communicating with a room situated below. She tapped the glass forcefully with her finger.

The effect was instantaneous. Miss Madeline immediately perceived a somber face looking up at her from below, and observed that between her and the apparition there was a second interior partition made of thicker glass. The face, expressing terrible suffering, was haggard, thin and pale; the young woman had never seen such a facial expression.

Each as astonished as the other, they were contemplating one another in silence when, the sound of the doctor’s footsteps having become audible, a trembling hand rose up as if to implore help, and the vision vanished into the darkness.

Miss Madeline drew the black veil down over the dome and returned rapidly to her work. Dr. Chance was myopic; he came in, trying to identify the contents of two phials he was holding in his hand.

“Tell me,” he asked, “what is this substance?” Then, looking at the young woman suspiciously, he added: “How pale you are! Are you ill?”

“I have a slight headache,” she replied, “but I’ll be all right in a moment.”

“Would you like to postpone the work? I don’t want to damage your health?”

“I can continue,” the governess replied, suppressing her emotion by means of a effort of will.

The shock had passed; having experienced a moment of dread, she felt more at ease. In sum, her suspicions had become realities; her pupils really had heard that cry of distress. There was someone locked in a somber prison beneath the blue laboratory—God alone knew with what terrible objective.

Miss Madeline’s duty was as clear as daylight.

“Dr. Chance,” she said, when the most important part of the work was complete. “What is the purpose of that singular dome in the corner of the room?”

The scientist, who had his back turned to the governess at that moment, replied: “I warn you that you mustn’t ask me questions. There’s nothing in this room that does not have its utility, but if you become curious and start spying, I won’t need your services for long.”

“As you please! But you Englishwomen aren’t in the habit of spying!”

“I believe that you’re honest,” said Dr. Chance, approaching her and looking her full in the face. “Well, in this case I’ll have pleasure satisfying your curiosity. The dome is part of an apparatus by means of which I make a vacuum. Now, no doubt, you’re as knowledgeable as you were before.”

“I’m no wiser.”

The doctor smiled sardonically. “I’ve finished my experiment,” he said. “We can go.”

Miss Madeline went straight to her room and locked herself in. She did not want to be disturbed by her pupils until she had formulated a complete plan of action.

She sat down and thought.

No danger could now deflect her from the enterprise on which she was decided. The miserable victim of Dr. Chance’s cruelty would be rescued, even if she had to sacrifice her own life—but she reckoned that her only chance of success was to deceive the scientist’s vigilance with regard to his prisoner.

Having determined a plan of action, Miss Madeline resolved to proceed immediately with its execution. That same evening, she dressed for dinner, selecting her best clothes. She had an old black velvet dress that had belonged to her grandmother. The velvet was superb, but the cut was old-fashioned. That old-fashioned appearance would doubtless add to the young Englishwoman’s charms in the doctor’s eyes; on seeing it, he would recall one of the beauties that had pleased him when he was young. To accompany it, she pinned a beautiful piece of lace around her neck, cleverly and gracefully folded, arranged her hair very high on her head and powdered it abundantly.

Naturally, she had hair as black as ink, white skin, pink cheeks and dark eyes and eyebrows. The effect of the powdered hair immediately removed the appearance of a conventional young woman of our own day, and gave her a resemblance to one of those ancient portraits that men admire so much.

When she came into the drawing-room, Olga and Maroussa ran to embrace her, with cries of admiration.

“How beautiful you are, Miss Madeline!” they cried. “But why are you dressed like that?”

“I had a whim to put this costume on,” she said. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

“But why have you powdered your hair?”

“Because it harmonizes better with the costume.”

“You look charming. I wonder what mother will say.”

When Madame Chance appeared, she looked at the governess with a certain astonishment, but did not say anything.

At dinner, Miss Madeline perceived that Dr. Chance observed her picturesque costume with an intrigued gaze, immediately followed by a nod of approval. “You remind me of someone,” he said, after a moment’s silence. He turned to his wife. “My dear, of whom does Miss Rennick remind you?”

Madame Chance looked at the young woman with a curious and unsympathetic expression. “Miss Rennick is a little like the portrait of Marie Antoinette just before she was guillotined,” she remarked.

“That’s true!” the doctor replied, nodding his head. “There’s certainly a resemblance.”

Miss Madeline, firmly determined to seduce him, moved her chair a little closer to his and they began to chat. She talked much more brilliantly than she had done until then; the scientist listened with surprise. She soon saw how the conversation pleased him, and took advantage of it to provoke his confidences.

He began to tell stories of his youth, of the era when his fat German wife had not yet appeared on the horizon of his existence. He also described his conquests of those long-gone days, and laughed merrily at his own exploits.

The conversation had taken place in English, and Madame Chance was evidently unable to follow the doctor’s brilliant remarks and the young woman’s piquant replies. After having watched her with increasing astonishment, she sighed softly, lay back in her chair and closed her eyes.

The two girls were chatting together without having the slightest suspicion of anything.

“Can we go to the drawing-room?” Madame Chance finally asked.

“You can, my dear,” the doctor replied, swiftly, “and the fact is that you had better do so, you and the children. As for Miss Rennick, she has to do some work for me this evening. Didn’t I tell you so, Miss Rennick? Will you be kind enough to follow me to my study? If you finish your work quickly, I’ll do something for you. I can tell from your behavior that you’re devoured by curiosity. Yes, don’t try to deny it. I’ll satisfy you. You can ask me to reveal one of my secrets this evening. Whatever you ask me, I’ll do my best to please you. I’m in a particularly good mood this evening.”

“Miss Rennick seems tired,” said Madame Chance. “Don’t keep her downstairs too long, Alexander. Come on, children!”

The girls smiled at the governess, gave her a slight nod of the head, and followed their mother, while Miss Madeline accompanied the doctor to his study.

When they were alone, he looked her full in the face. “I repeat to you what I’ve already said,” he began. “You’re full of curiosity. That which doomed your mother Eve will be your ruin too. This evening, I see in your eyes and ardent desire to get my secrets out of me—but let me ask you a question. What can a young woman like you have to do with science?”

“I love science,” she replied. “I revere it; secrets are precious. But what can I do for you, Dr. Chance?”

“You talk in a very reasonable fashion, Miss Rennick. Yes, I have need of your services. Come with me to the blue laboratory.”

He went ahead, opened the door in the wall, flicked the switch of the electric light, and they were inside the somber room, with its dark human secret. Dr. Chance crossed the room and began to examine a few microbial cultures very carefully.

“In fact,” he said, “this experiment is not sufficiently advanced to tell us anything new this evening. I won’t have need of your assistance until tomorrow…now, what can I do for you?”

“You can keep your promise and reveal your secret to me,” Miss Madeline replied.

“Certainly—what would you like to know?”

“Do you remember the first day I helped you?”

“Very well.”

“I wrote out some work for you that day. The subject was the photography of thought. You promised your English readers that, in a month or six weeks, you would be in a position to prove your assertions. That time has elapsed. Prove to me that you were telling the truth. Show me how you photograph thought.”

Dr. Chance stared at her for a moment. Then his face contracted, his lips parted, displaying his bright teeth, and his eyes flashed. He put out his hand and placed it on the young woman’s shoulder. “Are you ready?” he demanded. “Do you know what you’re asking? I can reveal that secret to you. I’d willingly reveal it to you, if I thought you were capable of hearing it.”

“I can hear anything,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height. “At present, I’m entirely given over to my curiosity. I’m not afraid. Is your secret frightening, then? Is it a terrible thing to photograph thought?”

“The ways and means by which these secrets are enveloped by nature are full of terror,” he replied, slowly. “But you have asked me for them, you shall know them…on one condition.”

“What?”

“That you wait until tomorrow evening.”

She was about to reply when a domestic appeared on the threshold of the laboratory, presenting the card of a visitor.

Dr. Chance darted a glance at it and said to Miss Madeline: “Dr. Schopenhauer is asking for me. He needs to tell me something important. I’ll return in a few moments.”

The governess remained alone. She could scarcely believe her senses. She was alone in the blue laboratory. An opportunity so unexpected must surely be providential. She launched herself toward the dome like an arrow. She took off the veil and leaned over it, trying to pierce the darkness that extended beyond it with her gaze. She could not see anything, however. She tapped the glass with her finger; that awoke no sound, not the slightest response. Had the victim been imprisoned in an even more profound cell, then?

Undiscouraged, Miss Madeline rapped again. This time, the result of her effort was a feeble, distant and terrible groan. Anxiously, in spite of the risk that she was running of being heard by Dr. Chance, she shouted: “If there’s someone there, speak!”

A feeble and hoarse voice replied from the depths of the earth, as if it were yielding up its last sigh: “I’m an Englishman, unjustly imprisoned!” There was a long pause; then these words arrived, more feeble still: “Put to the torture!” Another silence; then the voice resumed: “In the shadow of death. Help! Save me!”

“You’ll be liberated in twenty-four hours!” Miss Madeline relied. “I swear it, in God’s name!”

She took action immediately, boldly, following the inspiration of the moment. She ran to the door, took out the key, and with a block of paraffin wax she carefully took an imprint. Then she replaced the key in the lock, and put the paraffin wax bearing the imprint into her pocket. Having done that, she marched back and forth across the laboratory, trembling violently, trying to regain her self-possession.

The doctor did not come back, but Miss Madeline did not want to remain in the blue laboratory any longer. She put out the electric light, locked the door, took out the key, went along the long corridor and knocked on the door of the other laboratory. The doctor opened it immediately. She gave him the key without looking at him, and went up to her room rapidly.

That was a frightful night for her. She was not afraid for herself, but every thought in her mind was feverishly orientated toward a single object. She wanted to rescue the martyrized Englishman, even at the risk of her life.

Before morning, the young woman had firmly resolved to take two steps: the first, to obtain a second key to the laboratory; the second, to go to see the English consul. She did not know the consul’s name, but she knew that he had a responsibility to protect English subjects. Dr. Chance was a naturalized Russian, but the prisoner was an Englishman. She wanted to appeal to her homeland to obtain his deliverance.

Having calmed her overexcitement with these plans, Miss Madeline dressed as she usually did and devoted herself to her usual occupations all morning. All her splendor of the previous evening was gone, and she had become once again the simple and placid English governess.

At half past midday lunch brought the whole family to the table. Dr. Chance made himself particularly agreeable, and Miss Madeline noticed that he was watching her surreptitiously. For a moment she feared that he might suspect something; then, judging that to be impossible, she tried to remain calm.

Toward the end of lunch, and just as she was about to get up from the table, the doctor placed his hand on the young woman’s and said: “I’m worried that you’re so pale. Do you have a headache?

“Yes.”

“Oh, Miss Rennick, your emotions are getting the better of you. That headache is due to nervous excitation.”

“I don’t have any reason to be nervous,” she relied.

“Forgive me! You do have a reason. Do you remember what I promised to reveal to you this evening?”

 She looked him in the eyes and replied: “I remember.”

“I regret to disappoint you, but an unexpected business matter obliges me to leave St. Petersburg. I’ll be gone for about two days.”

“But my dear Alexander,” his wife said, “I didn’t know anything about this.”

“I was about to tell you. The essential thing, for now, is that I can’t fulfill a promise made to Miss Rennick. See how downcast she is; her passion for science increases the more she satisfies it. Miss Rennick, I must leave this evening at eight o’clock, and I won’t return until Saturday. I need you today for almost all of the afternoon. Would you please join me in my study at about half past two?”

The governess promised, and left the dining room with her two pupils. It was the time usually devoted to lessons, but it was important, not to say essential, to Miss Madeline’s plans that she be able to take advantage of the time—the precious time, for it as half past one, and only an hour remained at her disposal.

As soon as she was alone with her pupils she closed the door and looked them in the face. “Listen to me,” she said. “I have something very important to do. I can trust you, but only up to a point; besides, I don’t have time to tell you anything.”

“Oh, Miss, Miss!” exclaimed Olga. “Have you discovered something?”

“Yes, but I can’t breathe a word of it at this moment. You can help me to do more.”

“I’d be delighted,” said Maroussa, beginning to leap about.

“Oh, calm down, Maroussa! It’s a matter of life and death. It’s now half past one; in an hour I have to be in your father’s study; in that interval, I have a lot to do. I need to see a locksmith and get a key made. I’ll ask him to have it ready this afternoon, and I beg you to go and collect it when you go out later. Don’t let anyone know about it; do it all in secret and bring me the key, carefully.”

“Our nurse will go with us,” said Olga. “We’ll give her the slip easily. Which locksmith are you going to?”

Miss Madeline gave them the name of a shop she had noticed in a street nearby; then, not having a moment to lose, while her two pupils retied to their room, she wrote the following letter to the English consul:

 

 

 

Chance house, Ligovsky Prospekt.

Dear sir,

I implore your immediate assistance. I have discovered that an Englishman is being detained in a subterranean cell in this house, and tortured.  I am a young Englishwoman, resident there as governess. I have resolved to go to this Englishman’s aid, but I can do nothing without you. Dr. Chance is leaving St. Petersburg tonight at eight o’clock. At nine o’clock, I shall be in the large laboratory overlooking the garden, known by the name of the blue laboratory. I shall give a domestic instructions to take you there, if you are willing to come to my aid. In the name of God, don’t fail in this, for the case is urgent. The Englishman and I are exposed to great danger. I request your assistance for two English subjects.

Your devoted servant,

Madeline Rennick.

 

Having written this letter, the governess put it in her pocket, dressed in haste and went out without being perceived. Madame Chance was taking a nap while Miss Madeline was supposed to be occupied with her pupils.

On her way to the consulate, the young woman stopped at the locksmith’s and gave him instructions to make a key according to the imprint in the wax, asking that it should be ready in two or three hours, so that Miss Chance could come to collect it between five and six o’clock.

From there she ran to the consulate, handed over the letter, asking that it be transmitted immediately, and got back in time to be in Dr. Chance’s study at half past two. The latter asked her to perform several urgent tasks immediately, and, at ten to eight, departed as he had said that he would.

Olga handed the key, which she and her sister had gone to fetch, to the governess in secret. The latter asked a domestic, putting three roubles in his hand, to bring the Englishman who would doubtless present himself at about nine o’clock to the blue laboratory.

At eight twenty-five, Miss Madeline took the key, armed herself with her revolver, and went down to the laboratory, which she opened without difficulty. She was less emotional than she had expected. She switched on the electric light and looked for the entrance to the subterranean cell. It was a trapdoor equipped with a ring, fitted into the laboratory floor.

The governess lifted up the trapdoor easily, and saw six or seven stone steps descending into the darkness. There was an electric switch on the wall; she pressed it, and a little incandescent bulb illuminated a large subterranean vault, whose extremity disappeared into the darkness, and from which a feeble plaint came.

The young woman headed in that direction and perceived a man, tightly tied up, lying on the ground. His face was cadaverous; he could not move. His lips were moving without emitting the slightest sound. Only his eyes spoke.

Miss Madeline fell to her knees and said to him: “I told you that would rescue you. Here I am! Have for fear. Your bonds will soon be broken and you’ll be free.”

The unfortunate shook his head sadly. As the Englishwoman was astonished by that gesture, she felt a hand touching her shoulder.

The consul already! It must be nine o’clock.

Miss Madeline turned round. Dr. Chance was standing calmly behind her, not manifesting the slightest surprise.

“Miss Rennick,” he said, “I will now keep the promise I made to you yesterday to reveal my secret.

“It is by means of the man you see at your feet that I have succeeded in photographing thought. He was once my secretary. I perceived that he had a weak character. I hypnotized him; he became the slave of my will, and I was able, by experimenting on him, to discover marvelous secrets. What is the torture of a man in comparison with such results?

“Now, listen! When I first left you alone in the blue laboratory, unsuspectingly, I perceived as soon as I returned, by your agitation, that you had discovered something. That was the reason why I left you alone again—for Dr. Schopenhauer’s visit was purely imaginary. I heard your cry, I saw you take the imprint of the key, and I foresaw everything that was about to happen. Well, the secret you were burning to know, I shall tell you.

“It is a scientific fact, well known in physiology, that in the darkness, the retina of some animals secretes a pigment named visual purple. If, for example, a frog in killed in darkness and its eye, after death, receives the image of an object in the light, that image will be reproduced on the retina, and can be fixed with an alum solution. In addition to that, I first observed that by fixing my own gaze on an object for some time, and then looking at a photographic plate in a dark room, the object that I had seen was reproduced on the plate after development. Are you following me?”

Madeline could only nod her head.

“I’ll continue, then. Which gave me to suppose that thought itself could thus be photographed. Subjective intellectual impressions produce molecular changes in the cells of the brain; why could those changes too not decompose visual purple and give a distinct image on a negative exposed to its influence for a sufficient time? I carried out an experiment and found that such is, in fact, the case. In dreams, especially, that impression takes on a striking clarity. Has any more fascinating problem ever absorbed a scientist? Look at my victim! Ought he not to congratulate himself for suffering in such a great cause?

“Every night, I raise his eyelids with special apparatus, and while he sleeps, his eyes remain open, projecting their rays into the darkness for hours, on to a sensitive plate, where they inscribe his dreams.

“By employing products such as cocaine and opium, I give him particular dreams.

“That’s my secret! Anyway, during the day, I’m grateful. I feed my patient well. He can’t die…but it’s quite possible that he’ll go mad, because of the suffering his nervous system undergoes. Would you like to see one of the developed photographs?”

Miss Madeline uttered a scream of horror. “Not one more word! You’re a demon with a human face.”

“Women are hypersensitive,” said Dr. Chance. “Remember that you wanted to know. Remember that I warned you that the secret could not be stolen from me without terror, nor without horror. I hoped that you would rise above that horror. I was mistaken! But now that you know my secret, you can’t leave here, and as you have an excessive imagination, I shall experiment on you. You’ll be an excellent subject.”

“No! Rather kill me!” cried the young woman, falling to her knees.

“That’s what I propose to do,” said the doctor.

He took her hand, forced her to stand up, and led her gently—she no longer had any consciousness of herself—under the dome of glass, which he closed around her by means of a similarly glazed sliding panel. She remained there alone.

Almost immediately, the sound of powerful pistons was heard, functioning within the chambers of a pump, and Miss Madeline sensed the air around her becoming rarefied. She was indeed, as the doctor had previously told her, under the bell-jar of a vacuum pump.

Her chest constricted, she fell to the ground, and perceived through the glass roof the laughing face of the diabolical scientist.

Just as she was about to lose consciousness, she thought of her revolver, and still had the strength to seize it and fire into the air. Then she fainted, while the dome shattered noisily.

When she came round, the young Englishwoman found herself safe in the English consulate.

She learned that the consul, having arrived on time, had had Dr. Chance arrested. His victim, having been rescued and taken to the hospital, was gradually recovering from his suffering.

The Russian newspapers made such a fuss about the scandalous adventure, horrified by the scientific aberration of Dr. Chance and praising Miss Madeline’s courage, that the latter, irritated by the celebrity, returned to England, swearing that she would never set foot in St. Petersburg again.