“No, not yet,” answered Grosvenor. “Waiting until it gets dark before I attempt anything of that sort. But I know that they’ll come out all right. Good light, correct exposure, isochromatic screen and films; bound to come out right, y’know. Found the place where the Professor and his pals had been digging. Must have done a lot of work, those johnnies; no end of soil turned over where they dug for pavements and—and—things. And, pray, what have you been about all day, old chap?”
Dick told him, pretty well in extenso, how he had passed the day, even going so far as to describe his hypnotic experiments—of which he had said nothing to Grosvenor thus far—with the result that the Mighty Hunter was rendered almost speechless with astonishment.
“Hypnotised ’em, eh?” he ejaculated. “Well, I’ll be shot! Thought hypnotism was all humbug and tommy rot, y’know. Collusion, and that sort of thing.”
“Yes,” agreed Dick, “there is no doubt that much of it is. But, nevertheless, hypnotism is a perfectly genuine science, and a tremendously powerful agent for good, if properly used. There is the well-known institution at Nancy, for instance, where several almost miraculous cures have been effected solely by the employment of hypnotism. Oh yes, hypnotism is genuine enough, make no mistake about that; and the hypnotic practitioner can do many wonderful things by its employment. For instance, do you suppose that old villain, Sekosini, would have revealed all the details of his precious plot to-day had I not hypnotised him?”
“No, I don’t suppose he would,” acknowledged Grosvenor. “But—er—I say, old chap, I’m just wondering whether it was quite playing the game—doin’ the square thing by the wizard and the other johnnies to make them give themselves away under the influence of hypnotism—eh, what?”
“Ah, now,” said Dick, “you raise a question of an exceedingly controversial character. I admit, of course, that at the first blush, and regarding the matter superficially—if I may say so—it certainly would seem that I had taken an unfair advantage of those fellows by compelling them to speak the truth, and so ‘give themselves away’, as you expressively put it. Yet why, I ask you, should they not be made to do so? Are evildoers to be permitted to shelter themselves from the consequences of their misdeeds behind a protective screen of lies? Is right to be handicapped in its battle with wrong by what, after all, seems to me an overstrained if not altogether false sense of justice? There can be little doubt that skilful criminals have escaped the just punishment of their crimes simply because they have refused to incriminate themselves. This, of course, is all right from the criminars point of view; but is it right from the point of view of the community, who look to the law to protect them from him? My own view—which I give for whatever it may be worth—is that the criminal has no right to be protected from himself. It is the interests of the community and not of the criminal that have to be considered. If by speaking the truth he furthers the ends of justice he ought to be allowed to do so, ay, or even compelled, where compulsion is possible, as in the case of these conspirators. Here we have certain men who, for their own selfish ends, deliberately planned to plunge this Makolo nation into all the horrors of civil war, and deluge it with the blood of its own people; also, in pursuance of their plans they foully and treacherously took the lives of six of the most important chiefs and endangered that of a seventh. Were they ‘playing the game’, or, in other words, were they acting openly and above-board? On the contrary, their acts were wrapped in secrecy, and were characterised by the vilest treachery; and they would have been successful but for my intervention. For it is certain that the facts could never have been brought to light, had I not compelled Sekosini to speak the truth. That being the case, how could their nefarious scheme have been defeated by our side playing the game, if by ‘playing the game’ you mean that we were not to compel, or even permit them to incriminate themselves? To me it seems to resolve itself into this—that if one side insists on playing the game while the other side refuses to do so, the first must always suffer defeat while the other triumphs; and where the side which insists on playing the game represents right and justice, law and order, and the other side represents evil and criminality, the result must be the triumph of the lawless over the lawabiding, which, as Euclid observes, is absurd. Q.E.D.”
“Yes,” agreed Grosvenor, “I suppose you are right, Dick. Put as you put it, it certainly does seem an absurd and fantastic distortion of our sense of fairness that in the ceaseless struggle between good and evil the latter should be helped and the former handicapped as much as possible; and at all events in the present case I think you have successfully demonstrated your right to act as you did. Now, having settled that point, I propose that we have dinner, which seems to be ready, if one may judge by the looks and actions of Ramoo Samee.”
The sun had barely risen on the following morning when Dick and Grosvenor received an invitation from the king to present themselves forthwith in the Great Place, where the conspirators were to be brought up for judgment to be pronounced upon them; and as such an invitation was tantamount to a command they hastily finished the breakfast upon which they were engaged when the message reached them, ordered their horses, and rode away toward the appointed spot.
Upon their arrival they found the chiefs who had been summoned, like themselves, to hear sentence pronounced, already assembling, while the king’s bodyguard, motionless as statues, were ranged in a semicircle round the throne that had been placed in position for the accommodation of the king. A stool stood on either side of the throne, and upon their arrival Dick and Grosvenor were at once conducted to these. Almost immediately afterward the king made his appearance, and approaching the throne seated himself thereon, while those present accorded him the royal salute, Dick and Grosvenor standing and saluting in military fashion. Then, at a sign from His Majesty, all who were entitled to sit did so, and the order was given to lead forward the prisoners.