Widely alien from this, and more consonant with ours, were the methods and ambitions of the Torides, a self-centered and arrogant race, eager to amaze and subdue by arbitrary force, and far more conversant than are we not only with the more legitimate processes of science, but with those devices to effect illusion of sense and mental bewilderment and subjection which were practised to a limited degree by the necromancers and adepts of former ages. They were of a turbulent and restless temper, capable of daring and arduous enterprises, but always unsatisfied and unruly. Their present ruler exercised a sway over them more absolute and severe than any they had known for a long time; he possessed in the fullest degree the qualities of the Torides nature, supplemented by an intellectual training and accomplishment rivaled by no other. By means at his disposal he had acquainted himself with many details of the nature and civilization of most of the inhabitants of the planets of our system, and of our own earth especially; with the ultimate object, never yet avowed but intensely fostered, of obtaining supreme domination over them all. He had long been collecting the materials for achieving this stupendous project; and at the time of Miriam’s arrival on the scene he conceived himself to be nearly ready to attempt it. The passion for possession of her which had seized upon him appeared to him to be something far above the limitations of a personal desire to enjoy her love and beauty; he imagined that a union with her would greatly enhance his chances of success in his cosmic adventure. Working together for that end, each would multiply the other’s powers; and his actual contact with her, brief though it had been, and hostile outwardly, had confirmed his confidence in the final outcome.
Among his many studies he had not neglected research into the nature of woman, and fancied himself no tyro in that far-reaching and ramifying mystery. Miriam’s unexampled exile from her home and people would render her, he reflected, tenderly susceptible to influences that should seem to conciliate that estrangement, and to make her forget the violence and extraordinary circumstances of her seizure, and he took his measures accordingly.
After conducting her into the castle he waved aside the guards and attendants who assembled to do them honor, and led her through several halls and antechambers, massively built and furnished with austere dignity, to an upper floor where a corridor opened before them wainscoted with light-tinted and polished woods, the upper walls and ceilings colored in cheerful hues, with designs gracefully and tastefully conceived. At the end of the passage he flung open a door, and stood aside, with an obeisance, for her to enter.
Upon crossing the threshold she found herself in the outermost of a suite of rooms, the first glimpse of which almost betrayed her into an exclamation of astonishment. He was watching her closely and he smiled.
“Anything you wish is at your service here,” he said quietly. “There are women at your call to wait upon you. You are mistress of this place and of this planet. If you should be disposed to see me I will come; otherwise your privacy will be inviolate.”
The door closed and she heard his tread departing down the passage.
After standing for a few moments, looking interestedly about her, while the stern expression of her face gradually softened with pleased surprise, she walked slowly through the five or six rooms of the apartment. At every step some new object aroused her wonder and gratification. If this were magic it was admirable employed!
The site was a replica, apparently exact, of her own rooms in her father’s house on the Long Island shore. Had skilled architects and upholsterers employed months in executing a careful reproduction their success could not have been greater than had been here achieved, as it seemed, instantaneously. It was home itself! Even familiar trifles—an inlaid hand-mirror, an ivory fan from Burma, a silver flask of Damascus perfume, a color photograph of her father—were in their accustomed places. The rugs on the inlaid floors were of her own selection; the embroidery on the silken bed-covering was of her own design. Entering the room on the left of the bedchamber, which she had had fitted up as a study and laboratory, she found all her paraphernalia apparently as she had left them when going on her last visit to Mary Faust. This discovery aroused in her something more than surprise. She examined various articles minutely; then, throwing herself into the study chair, she spent some time in grave meditation. If this apparatus were as genuine as it looked, Torpeon had, no doubt, unwittingly put in her hands potent means for defeating his own plans. Before leaving her earth she had nearly completed an invention, based upon atomic disintegration, which was capable of being applied in a manner to give unexpected significance to his statement that she was “mistress of Tor.” If the result of her experiments answered their promise the words would become something more than an empty compliment.
“At any rate,” she told herself, “science is science, in one part of the universe as much as in another. But, of course, all this wonderful reproduction is a clever device to put me off my guard—an expansion of the same principle used by Hindu jugglers to beguile the senses. I seem to be at home again, but I am a prisoner here, nevertheless; and probably under constant observation. If there were only some one here whom I could trust!”
As she uttered the wish an incongruous thought of the grotesque little cripple, Jim, slipped into her mind. It was one of those unaccountable vagaries which characterize memory. She had never given more than passing attention to him. The impression was probably due to the prevailing, if sometimes subconscious, presence of Jack in her reflections; the one would suggest the other. Jack! Where was he? What was he doing or planning? Doubtless he would attempt to follow her. Aided by the Saturnians—but would they aid him? And must not Torpeon have prepared for all such contingencies? Did not the very liberality with which he treated her indicate his conviction that he was safe from attack? Yes; she must not depend upon outside assistance. She must fight for herself!