“Got the whole thing set up, just as we used to have it, haven’t you?” I said.
“Yes,” said Tom. “I’m always on the lookout for ‘the man,’ and then, too, I’ve got a notion that I can make some changes in the recording apparatus that will make computation easier.”
“Has the man been experimenting at all lately with his high waves?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes,” answered Tom. “I leave the machine adjusted for them every day, but I’ve only heard from him twice. I always keep two or three uncharged reflectoscopes on hand, as well. Some day he may go to experimenting where I can get hold of something.”
I stood looking lazily out of the window. A large yacht lay just offshore, her white sides glistening in the morning sun. There was a touch of spring in the winter air. Suddenly, before my horror-stricken eyes, the yacht changed to a confused mass of boards which rose and fell on the tide. I heard a cry from Tom and Dorothy. “The man!”
I turned. The golden ribbons of the reflectoscopes once more stood stiffly separate and the moving belt stood still. The beam of light was just fluttering to rest almost on the zero.
“Out there! Right out there!” I shouted. “Come!” and throwing open the door, I rushed towards the beach, followed by the others. I pointed to the mass of wreckage rising and falling on the tide. “There! there!” I shouted. “He just destroyed that yacht.”
“There’s a survivor,” cried Tom, as we ran stumbling on over the rocks and sand towards a plank which bore a living man towards shore. Just as we came to him, he struck bottom and groped forward on his hands and knees through the waves. He reached the dry sand, rose and walked towards us. I looked at the man in amazement. I knew those features, yet they were so strangely drawn and fixed, so dominated by the dread-compelling power of the eyes that I paused. Then it came to me. “John King,” I cried in amazement. King came steadily onward. A lightning flash illumined my brain.
“Are you the man who stopped all war?” I cried eagerly.