Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DIRTY you don’t know is the psychological prin- ciple on which that particular brand of tor- ture is based. In other words, the inborn fear of every man for the unknown. “ That’s why you laughed. It hoids no terrors for you as you know the different processes like a book. I am going to change that book; the title of my book will be Unknown.” “ What you mean to do?” muttered the constable doubtfully. “It’s working already. You're getting worried. I’ve put doubt in you—wonder— at the Unknown That’s the first rule in handling a criminal. The second is to let him stew.” The constable essayed another laugh. It was somewhat forced and unconvincing even to his own ears. “ Quit kidding yourself,” he said. Sparks made no reply. He began to stare fixedly at the boom of the derrick on the forward deck. For three minutes his eyes never wavered from it. ‘““ What are you looking at?” asked the constable at last, almost suffocated from curiosity. Silence. Three more minutes of concentrated star- ing and silence. The constable found himseif, puzzled, staring in the same direction. He paled and gave a slight start as the boom of the der- rick rose silently and swiftly to an angle of forty-five degrees, whirled around in a com- plete circle, and settled back again into place ‘“ How did it do that?” asked the con- stable thickly. Silence. The constable shifted uncomfortably upon his feet. The rattle of the chain of the handcuffs against the stanchion gave him -@ momentary fright which was doubled when the boom arose again into the air, swung silently around until its cold steel finger was pointing directly at him and stopped. He moved nervously to the left as far as his chained hands would permit. The steel finger followed. He moved, more swiftly, to the right. The steel finger followed. “ Stop it!” he muttered, speaking rather WORK. 223 to the boom itself than to any human agency. The boom circled and settled into. place. The constable laughed constrainedly. “I heard you had some queer fittings aboard.” * From whom?” “‘ Never mind. What else you got?” “You are going to see.”’ “You think you can get me this way, but you can’t.” ‘A line always pulled by the criminal to hide the fact that he’s breaking.”’ Another silence, longer than the two pre- ceding ones. Nothing to hear but the wash of the sea, the thrum of the sea, the tireless, sorrow- ful, unanswerable whispers of the sea. Nothing to look at but the crisp, black circle of the horizon’s unbroken rim; but the in- different stars; but the restless shadows of the backstays on the deck. The constable started to hum a tune. A sudden, shrill shriek of the boat’s whis- tle drowned him out and left him shaking with the shock. “ [ didn’t see you pull no cord,” he said. “T didn’t.” “Who did? Where’s the men—where’s the rest of the men on this boat?” “There are no other men, except those whom you will never see.” “ Come off!” “We are alone—yourself and myself.” The constable frankly shivered. “Are you ready to talk?” asked Sparks. “TI don’t believe you. There must be other men. I ain’t alone here with you.” “[solation is the -breeding place of the Unknown.” “ There’s others—there must be others!”’ “ There is no one. Shout! Shout and see!” The constable did so. His voice rang again and again along the lonely length of the heedless ship. No head appeared to question the disturbance. He shouted louder, more wildly, growing ever more terrified at the unfathomable stillness at every pause for breath. Not even an echo came back to answer him. “You see?” said Sparks quietly. “You could do away with me,” whis- pered the constable, “ and there’d be none to know.” Go NOOK (C@