Darrow bowed with a suggestion of reverence in the slow movement of his head. "And that night--or was it two nights later?--you saw the last appearance of the portent. Well, I shall come to that.... Slade has told you how they lived on the beach. With us in the valley it was different. Almost from the first I was alone. The doctor ceased to be a companion. He ceased to be human, almost. A machine, that's what he was. His one human instinct was--well, distrust. His whole force of being was centred on his discovery. It was to make him the foremost scientist of the world; the foremost individual entity of his time--of all time, possibly. Even to outline it to you would take too much time. Light, heat, motive power in incredible degrees and under such control as has never been known: these were to be the agencies at his call. The push of a button, the turn of a screw--oh, he was to be master of such power as no monarch ever wielded! Riches--pshaw! Riches were the least of it. He could create them, practically. But they would be superfluous. Power: unlimited, absolute power was his goal. With his end achieved he could establish an autocracy, a dynasty of science: whatever he chose. Oh, it was a rich-hued, golden, glowing dream; a dream such as men's souls don't formulate in these stale days--not our kind of men. The Teutonic mysticism--you understand. And it was all true. Oh, quite." "Do you mean us to understand that he had this power you describe?" asked Captain Parkinson. "In his grasp. Then comes a practical gentleman with a steel hook. A follower of dreams, too, in his way. Conflicting interests--you know how it is. One well-aimed blow from the more practical dreamer, and the greater vision passes.... I'm getting ahead of myself. Just a moment." His cigarette glowed fiercely in the dimness before he took up his tale again. "You all know who Dr. Schermerhorn was. None of you know--I don't know myself, though I've been his factotum for ten years--along how many varied lines of activity that mind played. One of them was the secret of energy: concentrated, resistless energy. Man's contrivances were too puny for him. The most powerful engines he regarded as toys. For a time high explosives claimed his attention. He wanted to harness them. Once he got to the point of practical experiment. You can see the ruins yet: a hole in southern New Jersey. Nobody ever understood how he escaped. But there he was on his feet across a ten-foot fence in a ploughed field--yes, he flew the fence-- and running, running furiously in the opposite direction, when the dust cleared away. Someone stopped him finally. Told him the danger was over. 'Yet, I will not return,' he said firmly, and fainted away. That disgusted him with high explosives. What secrets he discovered he gave to the government. They were not without value, I believe." "They were not, indeed," corroborated Barnett.