Loe raamatut: «A. D. 2000», lehekülg 5
CHAPTER VI
For nearly five years, Jean and Marie Colchis occupied the old house in Duke’s Lane.
The old man worked hard, and long hours were passed in arduous experiments. The ozone machine had performed its mission, and was a thing of the past. The hair on Colchis’ brows was whiter, the lines of care on his face deeper, and his gait slower.
Fortune had smiled upon him. Money had rolled in, and the interior of the dilapidated old building was in strange contrast with the exterior. The rooms were handsomely furnished: bric-a-brac, books, a piano, and a thousand and one little joujous dear to the feminine heart, gave evidence of the hand that had wrought this change – Marie Colchis.
The seventeen-year-old girl to whom Junius Cobb had bidden a tearful adieu, had become a highly educated woman of twenty-one. The beauty of her youth grew with her years. Her disposition was commensurate with her beauty. The solace of her father in his age, the pride of his heart, she became the one object for which he lived and labored.
Often and often had this sweet girl asked of her father some knowledge of Junius Cobb. When would he come? Was it known where he was? and did her father think that he still remembered his old friends in Duke’s Lane? Then, as her thoughts wandered to their last interview, with its sad parting, tears filled her eyes, and her bosom heaved and fell with deep, sorrowing emotion.
She still loved him; time had wrought no change. Her father saw it, knew it; and while a shade of sadness passed over his brow, he simply muttered:
“It must be done!”
Thus time passed.
A great invention was Colchis at work upon. It would astonish the world; it would make him famous for life; his wealth would become vast in the extreme. But none of these thoughts disturbed the calm equanimity of this great man.
He cared not for fame and honor, for his life was about run out. But wealth! Ah! that was another thing! He did want it; but for whom? Not himself? Who knows?
“They will want it, will want all I can give them,” he said to himself many times.
Later on, there came many visitors to the house in Duke’s Lane. They came singly, and sometimes in pairs. They remained awhile closeted with the old man, and then they went away. They were scientists sent by the government to report upon the invention of Jean Colchis.
One day, after a more lengthy visit than usual from one of these gentlemen, Colchis entered the little parlor where Marie sat reclining in a large chair, reading a book of poems.
Upon his approach, she quickly arose, and greeted him with warm affection.
“My daughter,” he commenced, as he led her to a chair and seated himself by her side, “we are going to leave Duke’s Lane. I believe the time has come when you should see more of the world; should mix in society, and take the place which your talents, beauty, and moral attainments give you by right. You are nearly twenty-one years old, highly educated, and exquisitely beautiful. You will make friends wherever you go, and you will have suitors by the score. With wealth, position, wit, and beauty, what more can you desire? Do not interrupt me, darling,” as his daughter was about to speak; “I know what you would say: that your heart is given to Junius Cobb, and that you want no other suitors. I have had fears, Marie, that Junius would never come back to us in this world – that, perhaps, he is dead.”
A cry of anguish burst from the poor girl’s lips:
“Oh! do not, do not say that! He is not dead! You know it, father! Oh! tell me he is not dead!” and she sank at her father’s feet, overcome with grief.
“O, God!” breathed the old man between his set teeth; “I fear it must be done!” Then, leaning over and stroking the golden locks of his daughter, he said:
“Marie, look up.”
Her eyes, glistening with tiny tear-crystals, were turned up to his.
“Look into my eyes, my child, and listen well to my words. Do you love Junius Cobb as fondly now as when you were a girl, on the night when he said good-bye and left you? Answer me as your heart dictates.”
“O, father! can you doubt it?” A heavenly look appeared in her eyes. “Would to God I could be with him in this life, or in death!” Her head fell upon her father’s bosom.
“Then, life without your lover is worse than death?” and her father fixed his eyes in a hoping, expecting, desiring expression upon his daughter.
“Yes!” burst from her lips; “a thousand times yes! for what is life without him? If I be not with him in death, then death is oblivion!”
“My noble, true-hearted daughter!” and he folded her to his heart. “Your lover is true to you – that I can swear. Await with patience, my child, till God wills your union. Now, once more listen to my words: it is my desire that you enter the world of life and fashion, rule my house as its mistress; entertain, make friends, and let no worry enter thy heart. Do this, and if at the end of four years more, you ask for Junius Cobb, your betrothed, he shall come to you. I swear to you, my daughter, that my words are true.”
“Father, I will do thy bidding.” She wept tears of hope as she sank into her chair.
Soon the world of fashion, the society of money and brains, began to chipper-chapper of the new Crœsus and his divine daughter, who had suddenly come into their midst.
The Colchis mansion was among the finest of those beautiful homes which have made San Francisco famous as a city of palaces. His hospitality was prodigal; his entertainments fit for kings. He and his beautiful daughter were objects around which fluttered the culture, the fashion, and the wealth of the city.
Men came, saw the divinity, and worshiped at the shrine. Suitors implored her love, begged it, but without success. To all was Marie Colchis kind, honorable, and lovely, but to none gave she the slightest encouragement.
Time passed, and still she was the same. Suitors still persevered, but without success. Against her no word of disrespect could be uttered, none could bear feelings save of love and admiration; all spoke of her as the frozen sunbeam.
Colchis père saw it, and understood it; she could never change.
Then Jean Colchis arose one morning, and told his daughter that he must go away on important duty. His stay might be protracted to months, he could not tell her how long. She was to remain, and under the guardianship of her housekeeper, she should find what amusement she chose.
Their adieus were spoken, and Colchis sailed out of the Golden Gate in a ship of his own.
Months passed, and Marie Colchis grew sad and disconsolate. Her lover gone, and her father away, there was nothing to live for. Hours upon hours she sat and wept – wept tears of such sadness as only a heart bowed down by the most intense sorrow could cause to flow.
The house on the hill was closed to the world, and Marie lived but in the past, and with slight hopes for the future.
It was the 13th of March, 1897, and Jean Colchis had arrived home to his child. There was sadness in his eyes as he clasped his darling daughter to his heart; but a firm, determined expression overspread his countenance, as though he had fought some great battle, and felt himself the victor.
“Never again, dear old father, can I open this house to the world,” she said to him, as they sat and spoke of the past.
“And never again shall you, my child,” he had returned, holding her in a loving embrace.
“Let me leave the world and all it contains! Let me go and bury my body as I have my love! Father, I am dying!”
The time had come. Jean Colchis saw that not an hour was to be lost. Fate had ordained it; he must comply, though he murdered his beloved child!
“Grieve not, my child,” he tenderly said, “the future is bright and assured. I am going to take you to your husband!”
Like a burst of the sun through a dark and dreary sky, her eyes lighted up, and she sprang toward him, clasped him around the neck, and covered his face with kisses. Then she arose, staggered, and fainted. The good news was too sudden.
Two weeks after this eventful day, Jean Colchis and his daughter sailed away in the ship which had once before borne him out of the harbor. As the vessel passed through the Golden Gate, the father and daughter stood at the rail and took one last look at the life behind them.
“See! dear father,” Marie exclaimed, pointing to the shore on the south, while a bright smile illumined her face. “See! there is the Presidio, with its little houses! Junius lived there, once – Junius, my own, and to whom we are now hastening. God watch over him!”
“Amen!”
The words came sadly from the old man’s lips. Thus they sailed away, and never more was word heard of them by the living world.
The years came and passed, but these two loving hearts came not again to the haunts of man.
And the other – Junius Cobb? He lay an inert mass in the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, on Mt. Olympus.
CHAPTER VII
A beautiful day it was, this 19th of June, A. D. 2000; to be sure, the sun was sending down its rays with a trifle more heat than was agreeable, but all things considered, it was one of those lovely days which one sees, in the month of June, in Washington.
The heads of the various departments had not yet left the city for their summer vacations in the country, but were hard pressed by the business required of them by Congress; for that body was still in session, as the national legislature did not end its work until the first of July.
In the Treasury building, Treasury Square, all was bustle and activity, and clerks and messengers were flying in every direction.
At his desk in the sumptuous office provided for him, sat Mr. Brett, the Treasurer of the United States; while near him, quietly smoking a cigar, sat Mr. Peck, the first assistant to the Treasurer.
They were quietly discussing matters pertaining to their department, and evidently had plenty of time on their hands.
It was 14:10 by the large dial on the wall, and near the time when the Secretary of the Treasury would ask for the final papers for signature for the day. A huge stack lay upon the table awaiting this call, and the two chiefs were only remaining to send them to him.
As the hands of the dial marked 14:15, a sharp knock was made upon the door, and immediately after, Mr. Lane, the second assistant, entered the room accompanied by Mr. Howell, a subordinate officer in the Treasury Department.
“Well, Mr. Lane, what is it? Have you any more business?” asked the Treasurer, looking up.
“Yes, sir,” answered that gentleman, with apparent excitement. “Yes, sir; I have some papers here which I think may be of very great importance. As Mr. Howell was going through the old store-room containing the records at the close of the administration of 1908, he found this bundle, marked as you will see by looking at it. Deeming it my duty, sir, to at once acquaint you with the fact, I have brought it here.” Saying which, he handed the Treasurer a small package of papers, bearing upon the brief-side this indorsement:
“This paper is this day deposited with the Treasurer of the United States, by Hugh Craft, Second Lieutenant in the First Artillery. With it is also deposited an iron safe, presumably containing the papers referred to in the body of the communication. Entry of the papers is made in book ‘C,’ folio 476. This document is to be transmitted from Treasurer to Treasurer, as they may be appointed, until its contents can be complied with; which will be by the Treasurer serving in 1988.
“Conrad N. Jordan,“Treasurer of the United States.”
The Treasurer took the paper in an unconcerned manner and glanced over the brief. Looking over his glasses, he said:
“Well, Mr. Howell, I see nothing about these papers that requires my attention. Undoubtedly they have been long ago acted upon by the proper authorities,” and he handed them toward that gentleman.
“But the inside, sir,” quickly returned Howell. “I must admit I read it, and so found out that it was of importance, even at this late day. It contains an account of a safe to be opened in 1988, and which has been deposited in the vaults since 1888. Now, if such a safe had been opened in this department in 1988, or since, I would have known it; for, as you know, sir, I have been here over fifteen years. I think, sir, that this communication has been mislaid long before the time set for opening the safe, if, indeed, any such article is in the vaults, and that it might require investigation.”
Mr. Brett seemed a little more interested in the matter, as he again turned the document over in his hand; then opening it, he read its contents.
In silence his subordinates watched him, and noticed an increasing excitement in his manner as he progressed.
This was the letter which Cobb had written and sent with the safe, and of which he had spoken to Craft and Hathaway.
Having read the main document, the Treasurer returned to the briefs and saw that it had been transmitted by five Secretaries, as their indorsements were upon it; but after the year 1904 no more indorsements were made, and it was apparent that the paper had been mislaid since then. Handing the bundle to Mr. Peck, the Treasurer said:
“That is a most curious document, I must say. Can you make anything out of it?”
The latter perused it carefully, and also looked at its indorsements.
“If such a safe is now in the vaults,” he answered, returning the communication, “it should be looked after at once, for the time has long since passed when it should have been opened. Perhaps you did not notice that the last indorsement says that the safe was deposited in the certificate vaults on January 7, 1904, by Treasurer Chamberlin. I think it would be well to look into this matter; and if you wish it, I will at once attend to searching that vault.”
“I quite agree with you, Mr. Peck, that we ought not to let this matter drop without at least trying to discover if the safe mentioned in the paper is now in this department. I wish you would take the matter in hand and thoroughly search the old vaults, especially the one mentioned as containing the safe on January 7, 1904. Notify me if your labors are rewarded by success. Good morning,” and the Treasurer bowed to Mr. Peck as the latter left the office. In passing out, Peck motioned to Mr. Howell to follow him.
The vaults of the Treasury were cut up into many small and minor vaults. Some had been used for the storage of old documents of the department which had no further value than that, by law, they could not be destroyed. One series of these latter were the certificate vaults containing the stacks of fraudulent certificates used by the Chinese, in the latter part of the nineteenth century, to gain admission into the country, and in one of which the safe was supposed to have been deposited.
An investigation was at once made by Peck and Howell in these vaults, and resulted in complete success; for, hidden behind huge piles of papers and boxes of documents, was found the small safe taken to Washington in 1888, by Hugh Craft.
It had taken several hours for the two men, with the aid of a couple of janitors, to unearth, or rather unpaper, the iron box; but it was there, nevertheless, and they read the legend painted upon it with many expressions of wonder.
At 10:30 the next morning, when the Treasurer came to his desk, they reported the result of their search, and informed him that they had gotten the safe out into the main corridor of the vault, awaiting his orders.
Mr. Brett immediately accompanied Peck down to the vaults, and saw for himself the safe. He read the legend upon it, and could not conceal his astonishment: the letter was genuine, and the safe was there.
The contents of that iron box had been placed in it over one hundred and thirteen years ago! What were the secrets it contained? Why was it sent to the Treasurer of the United States, with instructions not to be opened before a hundred years had passed? Why was it not opened at the proper time?
All these thoughts quickly passed through the Treasurer’s mind.
Carefully noting the inscription upon the door of the safe, he informed Mr. Peck that he would at once communicate with the President upon the subject. He then went back to his office.
At 11:15 that morning the President was informed that the Treasurer of the United States had most important business with him, and desired an immediate audience; it was granted him. The President was sitting in his private office, in the executive mansion, and received the Treasurer with a kind smile of welcome as he entered.
Mr. Brett immediately communicated the purport of his mission, and handed the President the letter which had been found.
Mr. Craft, the President, seemed greatly surprised at the communication, and taking the letter, read it carefully – both it and its indorsements.
“Delivered by Hugh Craft, of the army,” he read, to himself; then aloud:
“Why, a namesake of mine! I have had relatives in the army for many years; I wonder if this man could have been one of my ancestors?”
Taking down a large volume from an upper shelf of his book-case, he quickly turned the pages under the date of 1888. “Yes; yes, it is here,” and he followed on for several pages more; then, referring back, read:
“‘Hugh Craft, Second Lieutenant, First Artillery, July 1, 1886; First Lieutenant, September 15, 1891; Captain, October 6, 1906; Major, October 14, 1916; killed at the battle of Ottawa, August 5, 1917. Married Augustine Phelps, May 28, 1890. Children: Edward, born September 12, 1891; Harry, born May 4, 1894; Mabel, born December 11, 1906.’” Then, turning over the pages, he continued:
“‘Edward married in 1916 and died December 22, 1937, leaving three sons; one of whom, Arthur, married in 1940. Arthur died in 1981, leaving one son, Emory D., born June 19, 1941.’ And that man is myself. It is most strange that I should at this late day receive a communication signed by my great-grandfather. Whatever the contents of this safe may be, they are in some manner connected with me, and I am most anxious to at once unravel the mystery.”
Rising from his chair, he touched an electric bell, and upon its being answered by an orderly in the uniform of the President’s guards, sent a summons to his Cabinet to immediately meet him at the Treasury building; he then called for his wraps and signified his intention of at once proceeding with Mr. Brett to the Treasury and opening the safe.
In about an hour afterwards there were gathered in the office of the Treasurer the President and all the members of his Cabinet, and Mr. Brett, the Treasurer. The gentlemen, upon request of the President, then proceeded to where the safe had been drawn out into the corridor.
There it stood, apparently in as good condition as when first sent to the Treasury, save a slight discoloration caused by time. The legend was still plain, and the party surveyed it with much curiosity. The combination of the lock, of course, was unknown to any of them, and the key-hole was of no use, as none had a key to fit it. The services of a couple of machinists were soon procured, and the outer door quickly yielded to their efforts, and was torn from its hinges, exposing a large plate-glass door, behind which were plainly seen several articles.
Breaking open this door, for it was cemented around its edges, the contents of the safe were soon in the possession of the President.
First was a bundle of papers, then some newspapers of 1887, and finally three photographs in well preserved condition, though brown with age.
The bundle of papers was first examined. They gave the whole secret of Cobb’s intention of undergoing the ordeal of the cataleptic state, together with all that which had taken place up to the evening of December 1st, 1887, as well as what would follow on that night, and complete directions as to what was necessary to be done to again bring him to life should he not gain his natural state by the means he had prepared. Full mention, with the names of Craft and Hathaway, was made of their share in the work, and the photographs were of himself and his two friends. His leave of absence, also, was among the papers, and proved, by its signatures, its genuineness.
Upon intimation from the President, the whole party repaired to the office of the Secretary of War, where the papers were carefully read, and a deliberate consideration of the matter undertaken.
The records of the War Department for the years 1887 to 1950 were then sent for, and the record of Cobb and the other two found.
Opposite Craft’s name was the entry, “Killed at the battle of Ottawa, August 5, 1917;” after Hathaway’s name, “Died of wounds received at Bovispe Hacienda, Mexico, March 17, 1915;” while after Cobb’s name were the words, “Dropped from the rolls of the army as a deserter, to date from December 1, 1904, under the provisions of section 1229 of the Revised Statutes, no report having been received from him since December 1, 1887.”
All those present read the instructions contained in the bundle of papers; all saw the photographs, and all read portions of the newspapers which were found in the safe. The signatures of both Craft and Cobb were carefully compared with those which were made in the old signature papers attached to the record-book, and found to correspond exactly.
All present agreed that everything was perfectly genuine, and that the articles had been placed in the safe about the time specified.
“This is a very remarkable affair, gentlemen!” finally exclaimed the President, after again looking over the documents. “This paper directs that the place of entombment be opened by the first of January, 1988, or as soon thereafter as possible. It is now the 20th of June, A. D. 2000; quite a long time after that set by Mr. Cobb for giving him assistance is it not? If he has done what he says he has, in my opinion, the man is long since dead. The mislaying of the first document was a culpable act on the part of the administration of 1908; but it is our duty to remedy it, if possible. I know of nothing to do but to send at once to California and open the statue spoken of in this letter. If the man is dead, we may at least learn something more of his strange undertaking. I feel a personal interest, aside from that of my office, in this matter; for it appears that my great-grandfather was an accessory to this man’s foolish venture, and I would do all in my power to repair his wrong-doing. Mr. Miles, I desire that you take measures at once to solve this mystery and, if possible, render some aid to the man Cobb, if, indeed, it be not too late.”
The Secretary of State answered that everything would be done that was possible, and that men would that afternoon leave on the Central Pneumatic for California. He arose, bowed to those present, and retired.
At 16:30 that afternoon, two men, with grips and coats, left Washington on the Central Pneumatic for California.
The distance was a little over 3,600 miles, and the party arrived at its destination at 11:25 the next day.
An immediate call was made upon the mayor and council of the city, and the purport of their mission disclosed. Full arrangements were soon made for going to the Statue of Liberty, which still occupied Mt. Olympus, and was apparently in as good condition as when placed there in 1887, and ascertaining if the disclosures contained in the safe were true or not.
San Francisco had grown so much that the statue no longer occupied an isolated position on the outskirts, but was entirely surrounded by large and beautiful dwellings, and that part of the city was now densely populated.
As it would not be well to have the mission of the party known while working into the base of the pedestal, it was decided that no entry should be attempted before the following midnight. The two gentlemen, having taken dinner, proceeded with their arrangements, and soon had procured the services of four strong men to open the supposed chamber.
As the dial struck the hour of twenty-two that evening, two hacks passed quickly up Haight street, and thence to the foot of Mt. Olympus, which, though surrounded by residences, was yet bare upon its top. Leaving the carriage in two parties, the occupants cautiously proceeded to the statue.
It was a quiet night, and in that part of the city few persons were about, and none in the vicinity of the top of the hill. The moon was in its first quarter, shedding very little light, and in consequence dark-lanterns had been provided.
Albert Rawolle, the chief of the party which had left Washington, and who had charge of all the preparations, was a cool and quiet man, and well fitted to superintend such a piece of work. Stationing two of his men in position to guard against surprise, he commenced operations on the north-east corner of the base. He had made a careful survey of the whole structure, but could find no signs of an entrance, so had selected that corner as affording an easier task for his men.
At 23:55 the work was commenced, and the picks were driven into the hard joints with quickness and dispatch, soon making a large breach in the wall. At 1:25 one of the men drove his bar through the side, piercing the wall into the chamber. Quickly enlarging the opening, bull’s-eye lanterns were held to the hole, and the interior was bared to view.
As their eyes gradually became accustomed to the gloom, all the contents of the chamber were brought to their vision: the cases, the batteries, the boxes, and all the many things which Cobb had placed therein a hundred years before.
There were no signs of life, however; everything was as cold and silent as the grave.
The first moments of their excitement being over, the men went to work with increased vigor; for there was, indeed, something more than ordinary in this place – something true in the letter of instructions left in the safe; there was about to be disclosed to the world a most marvelous fact in the history of mankind.
With alacrity the men worked and toiled at the breach, and soon it was opened to a full foot in diameter. A moment later, as one of the men gave a rather more powerful blow than usual, his bar slipped from his hand and went crashing into the chamber.
With the exclamation of the man came a sharp, crashing sound from within, followed by a flood of light. Everyone jumped to the opening, and gazed within the chamber, while a superstitious shudder ran through each, and it seemed to them as if their very hair was rising on end.
“My God! Look!” excitedly exclaimed Rawolle to the others, and his voice seemed hoarse and hollow. “Look! there is a man moving inside the chamber!”
With eyes almost protruding from their sockets, the men gazed through the breach. Indeed, it was enough to try a man’s nerves; for within that chamber which but a moment before was wrapped in total darkness, in cold, and apparent death, was now light and life, and a man was slowly rising from his bed, with his hands pressed against his breast. They watched him as he moved feebly toward the fire, which they could not see, but which they knew was there by its reflection.
They could not speak, so strained were their nerves; but their eyes followed every motion he made. They saw him turn to the fire and slowly rub himself with his hands; then take a bottle, and striking its top against the side of the fire-place, break it open and take a deep draught of its contents, giving no heed to its broken and ragged edges. They saw him open a chest and take from it what appeared to be a quilt and throw it around him, and then, seating himself at the fire, continue the rubbing as before.
Lyman, Rawolle’s assistant, was about to speak, but the latter motioned him to silence, saying, under his breath:
“Hush! let us see what this all means – what this man will do; for it is a scene that may never again be enacted upon this earth.”
Cobb, for he it was, as is already surmised, did not sit long in front of the fire, but soon arose and took from his breast and back the two copper discs which were held in place by a band; then tearing off the bandages from the lower part of his body, he threw them to one side; next he placed upon the fire a small stew-pan, filling it with the liquor from another bottle which he had taken up and opened.
In a minute the savory odor of cooking meat came to the nostrils of the watchers, while Cobb, taking it from the fire, poured it into a cup and began drinking it. Five minutes longer they watched him, during which time he had finished his repast, and had partially arrayed himself in clothing which he took from one of the boxes.
No longer able to restrain himself, Rawolle placed his head within the breach, and in a quiet tone of voice, so as not to startle Cobb, said:
“Your friends are here and waiting to assist you; what shall we do? See! we are at this hole which we have made endeavoring to gain entrance to your cell.”
As the words were spoken, the sound seemed to startle even the speaker, as well as the others, and Cobb turned, and for a moment shook as if some terrible vision had passed before his eyes; but, as the faces of the men were distinctly visible by the reflection from the fire and the incandescent lamp above it, he soon regained his composure, and in a weak voice asked:
“Who are you that have dared to break into this place? By what misfortune am I thus disturbed and my plans upset? By whose authority do you come? Have you gained the knowledge through Mr. Craft or Mr. Hathaway?”
“It is by the order of the former, sir, that we have broken into this chamber,” replied Rawolle, not knowing the exact import of Cobb’s question.
“Alas!” murmured Cobb, “are there no true friends on earth?”
With trembling limbs he sank down upon a box near the fire, but just in view of the others.
“We are ordered to rescue you, Mr. Cobb,” added Rawolle; “and your weak condition demands immediate succor. Waste no time, we implore. It is the President’s order.”
“Whose order?” quickly exclaimed Cobb.
“President Craft’s.”
Weak as he was, Cobb sprang toward the opening through which Rawolle was speaking, and excitedly cried:
