"Tell me, William," he said. "And what is your idea?"
Gouldesbrough stopped. He turned towards his questioner and shook a long, threatening arm at him.
"Why," he said, "all this time the man Rathbone has never known why we are keeping him in prison. He has never seen me, but day by day you have descended to his cell, caught him up in the toils of the chains which he wears, and hoisted him on to the couch. And all this time, when you have fitted the cap upon his head, the man has known nothing of the reasons. He is in the dark, mentally, as he is so often in the dark from a physical point of view, when you, his jailer, see fit to turn off the light. But now he shall know what we are doing with him. I am going down to tell him that every thought which has been born in his brain has been noted and recorded by you and by me. I am going to tell him what we are going to do with his wretched body. He shall know of your proposals, how that we, his lords and masters, will simulate in his tissues the physical appearances of protracted vice. He shall know to-day how his body will be discovered, and how his memory will be for ever discredited in the eyes of the world. And I shall tell him to-day, that as he lies bound and in my power, wearing the helmet of brass which robs him of his own power of secret thought, that I am going up-stairs to watch his agony in pictures, and that Marjorie will be with me—that she is utterly under my influence—and that we shall laugh together as we see each thought, each agony, chasing one another over the screen. We shall be together, I shall tell him, my arms will be round her, her lips will seek mine, and for the first time in the history of the world...."
He stopped for a moment. His hand went up to his throat as if the torrent of words were choking him. Then Guest cut in to his insane ecstasy.
"You are a fool, William," came from the pink-faced man, in an icy titter. "Of course when you tell him why and how we have used him, he will believe it. But I don't think that he will believe in your pleasant fiction of you and the girl as a sort of latter-day Lacoön in one arm-chair, laughing together as you take your supreme revenge."
Gouldesbrough strode up to Guest. He clutched him by the shoulder. "Give me the keys," he said, "the keys, the keys."
Guest was not at all dismayed. Laughing still, he put his hand into his pocket and took out the pass-key of the strong-room.
"There you are, William," he said; "now go down and enjoy yourself. Our friend is still tied down on the couch—he's been like that for several hours, because I've forgotten to go and loose him. I'm going to have some more whisky, and then I shall go to the big laboratory and switch on the current. If I'm not very much mistaken, our friend's brain will provide a series of pictures more intense and vivid, more sharply defined in both outline and colour, than I have ever seen before, during the whole course of our experiments."
Gouldesbrough took the key and was out of the room in a flash. Guest groped for the decanter.