The Shadow and the Flash

by Jack London

When I look back, I realize what a peculiar friendship it was. First, therewas Lloyd Inwood, tall, slender, and finely knit, nervous and dark. And thenPaul Tichlorne, tall, slender, and finely knit, nervous and blond. Each wasthe replica of the other in everything except color. Lloyd's eyes were black;Paul's were blue. Under stress of excitement, the blood coursed olive in theface of Lloyd, crimson in the face of Paul. But outside this matter ofcoloring they were as like as two peas. Both were high-strung, prone toexcessive tension and endurance, and they lived at concert pitch.But there was a trio involved in this remarkable friendship, and the third wasshort, and fat, and chunky, and lazy, and, loath to say, it was I. Paul andLloyd seemed born to rivalry with each other, and I to be peacemaker betweenthem. We grew up together, the three of us, and full often have I received theangry blows each intended for the other. They were always competing, strivingto outdo each other, and when entered upon some such struggle there was nolimit either to their endeavors or passions.This intense spirit of rivalry obtained in their studies and their games. IfPaul memorized one canto of "Marmion," Lloyd memorized two cantos, Paul cameback with three, and Lloyd again with four, till each knew the whole poem byheart. I remember an incident that occurred at the swimming hole--an incidenttragically significant of the life-struggle between them. The boys had a gameof diving to the bottom of a ten-foot pool and holding on by submerged rootsto see who could stay under the longest. Paul and Lloyd allowed themselves tobe bantered into making the descent together. When I saw their faces, set anddetermined, disappear in the water as they sank swiftly down, I felt aforeboding of something dreadful. The moments sped, the ripples died away, theface of the pool grew placid and untroubled, and neither black nor golden headbroke surface in quest of air. We above grew anxious. The longest record ofthe longest-winded boy had been exceeded, and still there was no sign. Airbubbles trickled slowly upward, showing that the breath had been expelled fromtheir lungs, and after that the bubbles ceased to trickle upward. Each secondbecame interminable, and, unable longer to endure the suspense, I plunged intothe water.I found them down at the bottom, clutching tight to the roots, their heads nota foot apart, their eyes wide open, each glaring fixedly at the other. Theywere suffering frightful torment, writhing and twisting in the pangs ofvoluntary suffocation; for neither would let go and acknowledge himselfbeaten. I tried to break Paul's hold on the root, but he resisted me fiercely.Then I lost my breath and came to the surface, badly scared. I quicklyexplained the situation, and half a dozen of us went down and by main strengthtore them loose. By the time we got them out, both were unconscious, and itwas only after much barrel-rolling and rubbing and pounding that they finallycame to their senses. They would have drowned there, had no one rescued them.When Paul Tichlorne entered college, he let it be generally understood that hewas going in for the social sciences. Lloyd Inwood, entering at the same time,elected to take the same course. But Paul had had it secretly in mind all thetime to study the natural sciences, specializing on chemistry, and at the lastmoment he switched over. Though Lloyd had already arranged his year's work andattended the first lectures, he at once followed Paul's lead and went in forthe natural sciences and especially for chemistry. Their rivalry soon became anoted thing throughout the university. Each was a spur to the other, and theywent into chemistry deeper than did ever students before--so deep, in fact,that ere they took their sheepskins they could have stumped any chemistry or"cow college" professor in the institution, save "old" Moss, head of thedepartment, and even him they puzzled and edified more than once. Lloyd'sdiscovery of the "death bacillus" of the sea toad, and his experiments on itwith potassium cyanide, sent his name and that of his university ringing roundthe world; nor was Paul a whit behind when he succeeded in producinglaboratory colloids exhibiting amoeba-like activities, and when he cast newlight upon the processes of fertilization through his startling experimentswith simple sodium chlorides and magnesium solutions on low forms of marinelife.It was in their undergraduate days, however, in the midst of their profoundestplunges into the mysteries of organic chemistry, that Doris Van Benschotenentered into their lives. Lloyd met her first, but within twenty-four hoursPaul saw to it that he also made her acquaintance. Of course, they fell inlove with her, and she became the only thing in life worth living for. Theywooed her with equal ardor and fire, and so intense became their struggle forher that half the student-body took to wagering wildly on the result. Even"old" Moss, one day, after an astounding demonstration in his privatelaboratory by Paul, was guilty to the extent of a month's salary of backinghim to become the bridegroom of Doris Van Benschoten.In the end she solved the problem in her own way, to everybody's satisfactionexcept Paul's and Lloyd's. Getting them together, she said that she reallycould not choose between them because she loved them both equally well; andthat, unfortunately, since polyandry was not permitted in the United Statesshe would be compelled to forego the honor and happiness of marrying either ofthem. Each blamed the other for this lamentable outcome, and the bitternessbetween them grew more bitter.But things came to a head enough. It was at my home, after they had takentheir degrees and dropped out of the world's sight, that the beginning of theend came to pass. Both were men of means, with little inclination and nonecessity for professional life. My friendship and their mutual animosity werethe two things that linked them in any way together. While they were veryoften at my place, they made it a fastidious point to avoid each other on suchvisits, though it was inevitable, under the circumstances, that they shouldcome upon each other occasionally.On the day I have in recollection, Paul Tichlorne had been mooning all morningin my study over a current scientific review. This left me free to my ownaffairs, and I was out among my roses when Lloyd Inwood arrived. Clipping andpruning and tacking the climbers on the porch, with my mouth full of nails,and Lloyd following me about and lending a hand now and again, we fell todiscussing the mythical race of invisible people, that strange and vagrantpeople the traditions of which have come down to us. Lloyd warmed to the talkin his nervous, jerky fashion, and was soon interrogating the physicalproperties and possibilities of invisibility. A perfectly black object, hecontended, would elude and defy the acutest vision."Color is a sensation," he was saying. "It has no objective reality. Withoutlight, we can see neither colors nor objects themselves. All objects are blackin the dark, and in the dark it is impossible to see them. If no light strikesupon them, then no light is flung back from them to the eye, and so we have novision-evidence of their being.""But we see black objects in daylight," I objected."Very true," he went on warmly. "And that is because they are not perfectlyblack. Were they perfectly black, absolutely black, as it were, we could notsee them--ay, not in the blaze of a thousand suns could we see them! And so Isay, with the right pigments, properly compounded, an absolutely black paintcould be produced which would render invisible whatever it was applied to.""It would be a remarkable discovery," I said non-committally, for the wholething seemed too fantastic for aught but speculative purposes."Remarkable!" Lloyd slapped me on the shoulder. "I should say so. Why, oldchap, to coat myself with such a paint would be to put the world at my feet.The secrets of kings and courts would be mine, the machinations of diplomatsand politicians, the play of stock-gamblers, the plans of trusts andcorporations. I could keep my hand on the inner pulse of things and become thegreatest power in the world. And I--" He broke off shortly, then added, "Well,I have begun my experiments, and I don't mind telling you that I'm right inline for it."A laugh from the doorway startled us. Paul Tichlorne was standing there, asmile of mockery on his lips."You forget, my dear Lloyd," he said."Forget what?""You forget," Paul went on--"ah, you forget the shadow."I saw Lloyd's face drop, but he answered sneeringly, "I can carry a sunshade,you know." Then he turned suddenly and fiercely upon him. "Look here, Paul,you'll keep out of this if you know what's good for you."A rupture seemed imminent, but Paul laughed good-naturedly. "I wouldn't layfingers on your dirty pigments. Succeed beyond your most sanguineexpectations, yet you will always fetch up against the shadow. You can't getaway from it. Now I shall go on the very opposite tack. In the very nature ofmy proposition the shadow will be eliminated--""Transparency!" ejaculated Lloyd, instantly. "But it can't be achieved.""Oh, no; of course not." And Paul shrugged his shoulders and strolled off downthe briar-rose path.This was the beginning of it. Both men attacked the problem with all thetremendous energy for which they were noted, and with a rancor and bitternessthat made me tremble for the success of either. Each trusted me to the utmost,and in the long weeks of experimentation that followed I was made a party toboth sides, listening to their theorizings and witnessing theirdemonstrations. Never, by word or sign, did I convey to either the slightesthint of the other's progress, and they respected me for the seal I put upon mylips.Lloyd Inwood, after prolonged and unintermittent application, when the tensionupon his mind and body became too great to bear, had a strange way ofobtaining relief. He attended prize fights. It was at one of these brutalexhibitions, whither he had dragged me in order to tell his latest results,that his theory received striking confirmation."Do you see that red-whiskered man?" he asked, pointing across the ring to thefifth tier of seats on the opposite side. "And do you see the next man to him,the one in the white hat? Well, there is quite a gap between them, is therenot?""Certainly," I answered. "They are a seat apart. The gap is the unoccupiedseat."He leaned over to me and spoke seriously. "Between the red-whiskered man andthe white-hatted man sits Ben Wasson. You have heard me speak of him. He isthe cleverest pugilist of his weight in the country. He is also a Caribbeannegro, full-blooded, and the blackest in the United State;. He has on a blackovercoat buttoned up. I saw him when he came in and took that seat. As soon ashe sat down he disappeared. Watch closely; he may smile."I was for crossing over to verify Lloyd's statement, but he restrained me."Wait," he said.I waited and watched, till the red-whiskered man turned his head as thoughaddressing the unoccupied seat; and then, in that empty space, I saw therolling whites of a pair of eyes and the white double-crescent of two rows ofteeth, and for the instant I could make out a negro's face. But with thepassing of the smile his visibility passed, and the chair seemed vacant asbefore."Were he perfectly black, you could sit alongside him and not see him," Lloydsaid; and I confess the illustration was apt enough to make me well-nighconvinced.I visited Lloyd's laboratory a number of times after that, and found himalways deep in his search after the absolute black. His experiments coveredall sorts Of pigments, such as lamp-blacks, tars, carbonized vegetablematters, soots of oils and fats, and the various carbonized animal substances."White light is composed of the seven primary colors," he argued to me. "Butit is itself, of itself, invisible. Only by being reflected from objects do itand the objects become visible. But only that portion of it that is reflectedbecomes visible. For instance, here is a blue tobacco-box. The white lightstrikes against it, and, with one exception, all its component colors--violet,indigo, green, yellow, orange, and red--are absorbed. The one exception isblue. It is not absorbed, but reflected.Therefore the tobacco-box gives us asensation of blueness. We do not see the other colors because they areabsorbed. We see only the blue. For the same reason grass is green. The greenwaves of white light are thrown upon our eyes.""When we paint our houses, we do not apply color to them," he said at anothertime. "What we do is to apply certain substances that have the property ofabsorbing from white light all the colors except those that we would have ourhouses appear. When a substance reflects all the colors to the eye, it seemsto us white. When it absorbs all the colors, it is black. But, as I saidbefore, we have as yet no perfect black. All the colors are not absorbed. Theperfect black, guarding against high lights, will be utterly and absolutelyinvisible. Look at that, for example."He pointed to the palette lying on his work-table. Different shades of blackpigments were brushed on it. One, in particular, I could hardly see. It gavemy eyes a blurring sensation, and I rubbed them and looked again."That," he said impressively, "is the blackest black you or any mortal manever looked upon. But just you wait, and I'll have a black so black that nomortal man will be able to look upon it--and see it!"On the other hand, I used to find Paul Tichlorne plunged as deeply into thestudy of light polarization, diffraction, and interference, single and doublerefraction, and all manner of strange organic compounds."Transparency: a state or quality of body which permits all rays of light topass through," he defined for me. "That is what I am seeking. Lloyd blundersup against the shadow with his perfect opaqueness. But I escape it. Atransparent body casts no shadow; neither does it reflect light-waves--thatis, the perfectly transparent does not. So, avoiding high lights, not onlywill such a body cast no shadow, but, since it reflects no light, it will alsobe invisible."We were standing by the window at another time. Paul was engaged in polishinga number of lenses, which were ranged along the sill. Suddenly, after a pausein the conversation, he said, "Oh! I've dropped a lens. Stick your head out,old man, and see where it went to."Out I started to thrust my head, but a sharp blow on the forehead caused me torecoil. I rubbed my bruised brow and gazed with reproachful inquiry at Paul,who was laughing in gleeful, boyish fashion."Well?" he said."Well?" I echoed."Why don't you investigate?" he demanded. And investigate I did. Beforethrusting out my head, my senses, automatically active, had told me there wasnothing there, that nothing intervened between me and out-of-doors, that theaperture of the window opening was utterly empty. I stretched forth my handand felt a hard object, smooth and cool and flat, which my touch, out of itsexperience, told me to be glass. I looked again, but could see positivelynothing."White quartzose sand," Paul rattled off, "sodic carbonate, slaked lime,cutlet, manganese peroxide--there you have it, the finest French plate glass,made by the great St. Gobain Company, who made the finest plate glass in theworld, and this is the finest piece they ever made. It cost a king's ransom.But look at it I You can't see it. You don't know it's there till you run yourhead against it."Eh, old boy! That's merely an object-lesson--certain elements, in themselvesopaque, yet so compounded as to give a resultant body which is transparent.But that is a matter of inorganic chemistry, you say. Very true. But I dare toassert, standing here on my two feet, that in the organic I can duplicatewhatever occurs in the inorganic."Here!" He held a test-tube between me and the light, and I noted the cloudyor muddy liquid it contained. He emptied the contents of another test-tubeinto it, and almost instantly it became clear and sparkling."Or here!" With quick, nervous movements among his array of test-tubes, heturned a white solution to a wine color, and a light yellow solution to a darkbrown. He dropped a piece of litmus paper into an acid, when it changedinstantly to red, and on floating it in an alkali it turned as quickly toblue."The litmus paper is still the litmus paper," he enunciated in the formalmanner of the lecturer. "I have not changed it into something else. Then whatdid I do? I merely changed the arrangement of its molecules. Where, at first,it absorbed all colors from the light but red, its molecular structure was sochanged that it absorbed red and all colors except blue. And so it goes, adinfinitum. Now, what I purpose to do is this." He paused for a space. "Ipurpose to seek--ay, and to find--the proper reagents, which, acting upon theliving organism, will bring about molecular changes analogous to those youhave just witnessed. But these reagents, which I shall find, and for thatmatter, upon which I already have my hands, will not turn the living body toblue or red or black, but they will turn it to transparency. All light willpass through it. It will be invisible. It will cast no shadow."A few weeks later I went hunting with Paul. He had been promising me for sometime that I should have the pleasure of shooting over a wonderful dog--themost wonderful dog, in fact, that ever man shot over, so he averred, andcontinued to aver till my curiosity was aroused. But on the morning inquestion I was disappointed, for there was no dog in evidence."Don't see him about," Paul remarked unconcernedly, and we set off across thefields.I could not imagine, at the time, what was ailing me, but I had a feeling ofsome impending and deadly illness. My nerves were all awry, and, from theastounding tricks they played me, my senses seemed to have run riot. Strangesounds disturbed me. At times I heard the swish-swish of grass being shovedaside, and once the patter of feet across a patch of stony ground."Did you hear anything, Paul?" I asked once.But he shook his head, and thrust his feet steadily forward.While climbing a fence, I heard the low, eager whine of a dog, apparently fromwithin a couple of feet of me; but on looking about me I saw nothing.I dropped to the ground, limp and trembling."Paul," I said, "we had better return to the house. I am afraid I am going tobe sick.""Nonsense, old man," he answered. "The sunshine has gone to your head likewine. You'll be all right. It's famous weather."But, passing along a narrow path through a clump of cottonwoods, some objectbrushed against my legs and I stumbled and nearly fell. I looked with suddenanxiety at Paul."What's the matter?" he asked. "Tripping over your own feet?"I kept my tongue between my teeth and plodded on, though sore perplexed andthoroughly satisfied that some acute and mysterious malady had attacked mynerves. So far my eyes had escaped; but, when we got to the open fields again,even my vision went back on me. Strange flashes of vari-colored, rainbow lightbegan to appear and disappear on the path before me. Still, I managed to keepmyself in hand, till the vari-colored lights persisted for a space of fullytwenty seconds, dancing and flashing in continuous play. Then I sat down, weakand shaky."It's all up with me," I gasped, covering my eyes with my hands. "It hasattacked my eyes. Paul, take me home."But Paul laughed long and loud. "What did I tell you?--the most wonderful dog,eh? Well, what do you think?"He turned partly from me and began to whistle. I heard the patter of feet, thepanting of a heated animal, and the unmistakable yelp of a dog. Then Paulstooped down and apparently fondled the empty air."Here! Give me your fist."And he rubbed my hand over the cold nose and jowls of a dog. A dog itcertainly was, with the shape and the smooth, short coat of a pointer.Suffice to say, I speedily recovered my spirits and control. Paul put a collarabout the animal's neck and tied his handkerchief to its tail. And then wasvouchsafed us the remarkable sight of an empty collar and a wavinghandkerchief cavorting over the fields. It was something to see that collarand handkerchief pin a bevy of quail in a clump of locusts and remain rigidand immovable till we had flushed the birds.Now and again the dog emitted the vari-colored light-flashes I have mentioned.The one thing, Paul explained, which he had not anticipated and which hedoubted could be overcome."They're a large family," he said, "these sun dogs, wind dogs, rainbows,halos, and parhelia. They are produced by refraction of light from mineral andice crystals, from mist, rain, spray, and no end of things; and I am afraidthey are the penalty I must pay for transparency. I escaped Lloyd's shadowonly to fetch up against the rainbow flash."A couple of days later, before the entrance to Paul's laboratory, Iencountered a terrible stench. So overpowering was it that it was easy todiscover the source: a mass of putrescent matter on the doorstep which ingeneral outlines resembled a dog.Paul was startled when he investigated my find. It was his invisible dog, orrather, what had been his invisible dog, for it was now plainly visible. Ithad been playing about but a few minutes before in all health and strength.Closer examination revealed that the skull had been crushed by some heavyblow. While it was strange that the animal should have been killed, theinexplicable thing was that it should so quickly decay."The reagents I injected into its system were harmless," Paul explained. "Yetthey were powerful, and it appears that when death comes they forcepractically instantaneous disintegration. Remarkable! Most remarkable! Well,the only thing is not to die. They do not harm so long as one lives. But I dowonder who smashed in that dog's head."Light, however, was thrown upon this when a frightened housemaid brought thenews that Gaffer Bedshaw had that very morning, not more than an hour back,gone violently insane, and was strapped down at home, in the huntsman's lodge,where he raved of a battle with a ferocious and gigantic beast that he hadencountered in the Tichlorne pasture. He claimed that the thing, whatever itwas, was invisible, that with his own eyes he had seen that it was invisible;wherefore his tearful wife and daughters shook their heads, and wherefore hebut waxed the more violent, and the gardener and the coachman tightened thestraps by another hole.Nor, while Paul Tichlorne was thus successfully mastering the problem ofinvisibility, was Lloyd Inwood a whit behind. I went over in answer to amessage of his to come and see how he was getting on. Now his laboratoryoccupied an isolated situation in the midst of his vast grounds. It was builtin a pleasant little glade, surrounded on all sides by a dense forest growth,and was to be gained by way of a winding and erratic path. But I havetravelled that path so often as to know every foot of it, and conceive mysurprise when I came upon the glade and found no laboratory. The quaint shedstructure with its red sandstone chimney was not. Nor did it look as if itever had been. There were no signs of ruin, no debris, nothing.I started to walk across what had once been its site. "This," I said tomyself, "should be where the step went up to the door." Barely were the wordsout of my mouth when I stubbed my toe on some obstacle, pitched forward, andbutted my head into something that FELT very much like a door. I reached outmy hand. It was a door. I found the knob and turned it. And at once, as thedoor swung inward on its hinges, the whole interior of the laboratory impingedupon my vision. Greeting Lloyd, I closed the door and backed up the path a fewpaces. I could see nothing of the building. Returning and opening the door, atonce all the furniture and every detail of the interior were visible. It wasindeed startling, the sudden transition from void to light and form and color."What do you think of it, eh?" Lloyd asked, wringing my hand. "I slapped acouple of coats of absolute black on the outside yesterday afternoon to seehow it worked. How's your head? you bumped it pretty solidly, I imagine.""Never mind that," he interrupted my congratulations. "I've something betterfor you to do."While he talked he began to strip, and when he stood naked before me he thrusta pot and brush into my hand and said, "Here, give me a coat of this."It was an oily, shellac-like stuff, which spread quickly and easily over theskin and dried immediately."Merely preliminary and precautionary," he explained when I had finished; "butnow for the real stuff."I picked up another pot he indicated, and glanced inside, but could seenothing."It's empty," I said."Stick your finger in it."I obeyed, and was aware of a sensation of cool moistness. On withdrawing myhand I glanced at the forefinger, the one I had immersed, but it haddisappeared. I moved and knew from the alternate tension and relaxation of themuscles that I moved it, but it defied my sense of sight. To all appearances Ihad been shorn of a finger; nor could I get any visual impression of it till Iextended it under the skylight and saw its shadow plainly blotted on thefloor.Lloyd chuckled. "Now spread it on, and keep your eyes open."I dipped the brush into the seemingly empty pot, and gave him a long strokeacross his chest. With the passage of the brush the living flesh disappearedfrom beneath. I covered his right leg, and he was a one-legged man defying alllaws of gravitation. And so, stroke by stroke, member by member, I paintedLloyd Inwood into nothingness. It was a creepy experience, and I was glad whennaught remained in sight but his burning black eyes, poised apparentlyunsupported in mid-air."I have a refined and harmless solution for them," he said. "A fine spray withan air-brush, and presto! I am not."This deftly accomplished, he said, "Now I shall move about, and do you tell mewhat sensations you experience.""In the first place, I cannot see you," I said, and I could hear his gleefullaugh from the midst of the emptiness. "Of course," I continued, "you cannotescape your shadow, but that was to be expected. When you pass between my eyeand an object, the object disappears, but so unusual and incomprehensible isits disappearance that it seems to me as though my eyes had blurred. When youmove rapidly, I experience a bewildering succession of blurs. The blurringsensation makes my eyes ache and my brain tired.""Have you any other warnings of my presence?" he asked."No, and yes," I answered. "When you are near me I have feelings similar tothose produced by dank warehouses, gloomy crypts, and deep mines. And assailors feel the loom of the land on dark nights, so I think I feel the loomof your body. But it is all very vague and intangible."Long we talked that last morning in his laboratory; and when I turned to go,he put his unseen hand in mine with nervous grip, and said, "Now I shallconquer the world!" And I could not dare to tell him of Paul Tichlorne's equalsuccess.At home I found a note from Paul, asking me to come up immediately, and it washigh noon when I came spinning up the driveway on my wheel. Paul called mefrom the tennis court, and I dismounted and went over. But the court wasempty. As I stood there, gaping open-mouthed, a tennis ball struck me on thearm, and as I turned about, another whizzed past my ear. For aught I could seeof my assailant, they came whirling at me from out of space, and right wellwas I peppered with them. But when the balls already flung at me began to comeback for a second whack, I realized the situation. Seizing a racquet andkeeping my eyes open, I quickly saw a rainbow flash appearing and disappearingand darting over the ground. I took out after it, and when I laid the racquetupon it for a half-dozen stout blows, Paul's voice rang out:"Enough! Enough! Oh! Ouch! Stop! You're landing on my naked skin, you know!Ow! O-w-w! I'll be good! I'll be good! I only wanted you to see mymetamorphosis," he said ruefully, and I imagined he was rubbing his hurts.A few minutes later we were playing tennis--a handicap on my part, for I couldhave no knowledge of his position save when all the angles between himself,the sun, and me, were in proper conjunction. Then he flashed, and only then.But the flashes were more brilliant than the rainbow--purest blue, mostdelicate violet, brightest yellow, and all the intermediary shades, with thescintillant brilliancy of the diamond, dazzling, blinding, iridescent.But in the midst of our play I felt a sudden cold chill, reminding me of deepmines and gloomy crypts, such a chill as I had experienced that very morning.The next moment, close to the net, I saw a ball rebound in mid-air and emptyspace, and at the same instant, a score of feet away, Paul Tichlorne emitted arainbow flash. It could not be he from whom the ball had rebounded, and withsickening dread I realized that Lloyd Inwood had come upon the scene. To makesure, I looked for his shadow, and there it was, a shapeless blotch the girthof his body, (the sun was overhead), moving along the ground. I remembered histhreat, and felt sure that all the long years of rivalry were about toculminate in uncanny battle.I cried a warning to Paul, and heard a snarl as of a wild beast, and ananswering snarl. I saw the dark blotch move swiftly across the court, and abrilliant burst of vari-colored light moving with equal swiftness to meet it;and then shadow and flash came together and there was the sound of unseenblows. The net went down before my frightened eyes. I sprang toward thefighters, crying:"For God's sake!"But their locked bodies smote against my knees, and I was overthrown."You keep out of this, old man!"! heard the voice of Lloyd Inwood from out ofthe emptiness. And then Paul's voice crying, "Yes, we've had enough ofpeacemaking!"From the sound of their voices I knew they had separated. I could not locatePaul, and so approached the shadow that represented Lloyd. But from the otherside came a stunning blow on the point of my jaw, and I heard Paul screamangrily, "Now will you keep away?"Then they came together again, the impact of their blows, their groans andgasps, and the swift flashings and shadow-movings telling plainly of thedeadliness of the struggle.I shouted for help, and Gaffer Bedshaw came running into the court. I couldsee, as he approached, that he was looking at me strangely, but he collidedwith the combatants and was hurled headlong to the ground. With despairingshriek and a cry of "O Lord, I've got 'em!" he sprang to his feet and toremadly out of the court.I could do nothing, so I sat up, fascinated and powerless, and watched thestruggle. The noonday sun beat down with dazzling brightness on the nakedtennis court. And it was naked. All I could see was the blotch of shadow andthe rainbow flashes, the dust rising from the invisible feet, the earthtearing up from beneath the straining foot-grips, and the wire screen bulgeonce or twice as their bodies hurled against it. That was all, and after atime even that ceased. There were no more flashes, and the shadow had becomelong and stationary; and I remembered their set boyish faces when they clungto the roots in the deep coolness of the pool.They found me an hour afterward. Some inkling of what had happened got to theservants and they quitted the Tichlorne service in a body. Gaffer Bedshawnever recovered from the second shock he received, and is confined in amadhouse, hopelessly incurable. The secrets of their marvellous discoveriesdied with Paul and Lloyd, both laboratories being destroyed by grief-strickenrelatives. As for myself, I no longer care for chemical research, and scienceis a tabooed topic in my household. I have returned to my roses. Nature'scolors are good enough for me.

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