Red Star Tales Read online

  Miss Adams’ agitation was rising constantly. She started shaking with nervous fever, and she pressed her teeth together tightly to stop them chattering. “Now!” she told herself several times, but every time her resolve failed her. The atmosphere oppressed her. After every missed opportunity she tried to calm herself with the thought that the higher Professor Kern’s reputation rose, the lower he would fall.

  The speeches began.

  A little old grey man approached the podium – one of the greatest scientists in America.

  In a weak, cracked voice he spoke about Professor Kern’s ingenious discovery, about the omnipotence of science, about victory over death, and about America, which had given birth to such great minds and given the world the greatest scientific achievements…

  At the moment when she least expected it, a sort of whirlwind of long-restrained fury and hatred overwhelmed Miss Adams and bore her onwards. She was no longer in control of herself.

  She flung herself onto the podium, almost knocking the astonished old man off his feet, practically pushed him away, took his place and with a deathly pale face and feverishly burning eyes like one of the Furies on the trail of a murderer, she breathlessly began her fiery, confused speech.

  The entire hall was rocked by her appearance.

  At first Professor Kern looked troubled and made an involuntary movement in Miss Adams’ direction, as if to restrain her. Then he turned swiftly to John and whispered a few words in his ear. John slipped out the door.

  In the general confusion, no-one paid any attention to this.

  “Don’t believe him!” shouted Miss Adams, pointing at Kern. “He is a thief and a murderer. He stole Professor Dowell’s research! He killed Dowell! Even now he continues to work with him… He tortures Dowell. He forced Dowell by torture to continue his scientific work and claimed it as his own… Dowell told me himself that Kern poisoned him…”

  Confusion turned to panic amongst the public. Many rose from their seats. Even some of the correspondents dropped their pencils and froze in postures of astonishment. Only the camera operator, who had seen it all before, was energetically turning the handle of his machine and enjoying this unexpected caper, which guaranteed that his film would be a succès de scandale.

  Professor Kern was entirely in control of himself. He stood by calmly, wearing a pleased smile.

  After waiting for the moment when a nervous paroxysm prevented Miss Adams from speaking, he used the pause that followed to turn to the guards stationed at the door of the auditorium. He spoke to them calmly and authoritatively:

  “Take her away! Can’t you see that she’s suffering a fit of insanity?”

  For some time the guards stood without moving; perhaps they too were affected by the scene. But Miss Adams made their task easier. A hysterical fit shook her body, and with a crazy laugh she collapsed near the podium.

  They carried her away…

  When the general agitation had calmed a little, Professor Kern mounted the podium and apologized to the gathering for the unfortunate incident.

  “Miss Adams is a nervous, hysterical girl; she could not cope with those powerful anxieties which she was forced to bear, spending day after day in the company of the head of the corpse (Kern emphasized the word) of Miss Watson, after I artificially brought it to life. Miss Adams’ psyche has given way. She has gone out of her mind… Naturally, we will take good care of this victim of scientific duty!”

  It was as if the scythe of Death the Reaper had passed over the hall. And thousands of eyes stared at the head of Miss Watson with horror and pity, as if at a corpse that had crawled out of the tomb. The mood of the hall was irretrievably spoiled. Many of the public left, without waiting for the end. The speakers hastily read their prepared speeches and congratulatory telegrams, awarding Kern honorary membership of and honorary doctorates from various institutions and scientific academies; then the meeting was closed.

  Just before the very end the Negro appeared behind Professor Kern and, nodding imperceptibly to Kern, started to remove Miss Watson’s head for the return journey. The head had immediately wilted, looking tired and frightened.

  Only once he was alone in the sealed car did Professor Kern give way to the rage boiling up inside him.

  He squeezed his hands into fists, ground his teeth and swore so loudly, that his driver stopped the motor-car several times and said, “Hello?” into the communication tube.

  X. The Madwoman

  It was a medium-sized room with a window onto the garden. The walls were white. The white bed linen was covered with a light grey blanket. There was a white table and two chairs of the same shade.

  Miss Adams sat at the window and stared vaguely into the garden. The sun’s rays gilded her red hair. She had grown much paler and thinner.

  From the window, she could see the paths where small groups of patients were wandering. Around them fluttered the white robes of the Sisters.

  “They are mad!” she spoke softly, gazing at the strolling patients. “And I am mad too! What nonsense! And this is all I managed to achieve!”

  She wrung her slender hands until her finger bones clicked.

  It was a month since she had found herself in a suburban hospital for the mentally ill, thanks to Professor Kern’s efforts to take care of the “victim of scientific duty.”

  The fact that her nerves genuinely were in lamentable condition after the infamous evening had made it all the easier for Professor Kern to place her in a psychiatric institution. She had lost her job, and she was tormented by worry about her family. Worst of all, she was aware of the utter hopelessness of her situation. She was too dangerous to Kern. And her stay in the psychiatric ward could be prolonged indefinitely… It was possible that even the authorities would not be very concerned about her. They had treated Kern’s speech as a kind of national triumph. America boasted about him to the whole world. It would now be unfortunate to show the world the other side of the coin: the rivalry, greed, and dishonesty among those who were considered the scientific élite…

  Professor Kern had fulfilled his threat about “the gravest consequences” that would ensue if she failed to protect his secret. They might have been worse. She would expect anything from Kern. He had had his revenge, but he had escaped vengeance for what he had done to the head of Professor Dowell. Miss Adams had sacrificed herself in vain. This knowledge unbalanced her mental state even more.

  She was close to despair and ready to commit suicide.

  Even in here she felt Professor Kern’s influence. Other patients were allowed meetings with family and friends. She was kept in the strictest isolation.

  In spite of this, she had succeeded in making friends with one of the custodians. This woman, with the greatest secrecy, sometimes brought her newspapers. In one of these papers she read about herself:

  “Miss Adams, formerly employed by Professor Kern, was placed in a psychiatric institution after the fit of insanity which afflicted her during Professor Kern’s presentation to a scientific society. Doctors consider her condition to be serious, offering little hope of a cure.”

  “There’s my sentence!” whispered Miss Adams, dropping the newspaper on her lap.

  In the next issue she managed to find out that Professor Kern’s premises had been searched immediately after his presentation.

  “As might have been expected,” the short article recorded, “Professor Dowell’s head was not found. It was later established that his death followed an asthma attack, such as the patient had suffered for a long time. Thus the last remaining doubts – if anyone had indeed been in doubt – about Professor Kern’s innocence were dissipated. The entire story was no more than the delirium of Miss Adams’ sick imagination.”

  “Could the head really have perished? Poor Professor Dowell!” thought the girl.

  Miss Adams found no more articles about the matter. It had been supplanted by other sensational stories.

  In the mornings, the doctors visited Miss Adams.

&nb
sp; “Well, how are we doing?” They always asked the same question.

  She hated them: either they were all ignorant, unable to tell a healthy person from an invalid, or they were in Kern’s pay.

  She did not answer them, or else she replied with uncharacteristic rudeness.

  And they would leave, shaking their heads disapprovingly, possibly sincerely convinced that they were dealing with a mentally ill woman…

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Miss Adams, thinking that the custodian had brought tea, said indifferently, without turning her head from the window, “Come in!”

  Someone entered. A young, male voice spoke just behind her:

  “May I see Miss Adams?”

  This was so unexpected that the girl turned sharply. Before her stood a young man dressed with elegant simplicity. There was something familiar about his face. But Miss Adams could not remember where she might have seen him.

  “That’s me…”

  “Allow me to introduce myself: I’m Arthur Dowell. Professor Dowell’s son.”

  “So that’s where the resemblance comes from! The very same eyes, open forehead and oval face,” thought Miss Adams.

  “How did you… reach me?” she asked in amazement.

  Arthur Dowell smiled.

  “Well, that wasn’t easy! You are well guarded. I’ll admit that I was forced to use a minor subterfuge. And even now I only have a few minutes. Let me come straight to the point. I was living in England with my aunt, when I learned from the newspapers about the events surrounding Professor Kern’s presentation and your… noble speech in my father’s defense. I could not remain uninvolved in this matter. It concerns my father’s name...”

  He wanted to say “my late father’s,” but he couldn’t.

  “...as well as the fate of his scientific work and the secret of his death. Moreover, you have suffered from this affair. I see you here in captivity. Now is not the moment to speak of my gratitude for your self-sacrificing act. I know Kern slightly and, I admit, I considered him capable of everything that you spoke about on that night. I didn’t believe the story of your insanity. And now, seeing you, I am convinced I was right. Mad people don’t look like you. But I want to be convinced from your own lips of the truth of everything that you said. Was it all true?”

  “Yes, it was true!”

  “I believe you… What a shameless act! What’s more, I want to ask your opinion: would Kern have kept my father’s head? How unfortunate, that I was detained by illness! I am afraid I have come too late!”

  “Unfortunately I know no more than you about the fate of Professor Dowell’s head. I can only say that the head was needed to finish a certain major project.”

  “In that case… it must be found! But first of all you must be freed! I shall take care of that. And remember, please; my name is not Dowell, but Bean; I’m your cousin. Do you understand me? This way we shall reach our goal sooner!”

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Sadly, our meeting is over. But I hope that we will soon meet again in different circumstances. I wish you all the best!”

  And he left as unexpectedly as he had appeared.

  Miss Adams continued to stand, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the door.

  Then she whispered, “Could I really be freed?”

  XI. Free

  “Are you certain that the car aimed for you on purpose?” Arthur Dowell asked Miss Adams.

  “I am perfectly certain,” she replied. “I was walking along a side street with little traffic. I had already noticed a black Ford which seemed to be slowly following me. When I was crossing the street, the driver suddenly accelerated, sending the car straight towards me. I darted out of the way. The driver swerved after me. I was only saved by a carriage which accidentally blocked the path of the car.”

  “Yes… you must be more careful! Kern can have no peace while you are at large!”

  This conversation was taking place in Miss Adams’ small living room, on the fourth day since her newly minted cousin Bean had succeeded in freeing her from the psychiatric institution. This had proved no easy task. The management of the asylum initially refused point-blank, claiming that the nature of Miss Adams’ illness presented great danger for anyone around her, and that it was impossible to take her out of the asylum.

  But Dowell-Bean was insistent. He took responsibility for Miss Adams, persuaded, insisted, finally demanded an expert opinion given in the presence of a legal representative. Further resistance could have had unpleasant consequences for the asylum, and the management were forced to concede.

  Miss Adams was welcomed at home as if she had risen from the dead.

  Her elderly mother looked at Arthur with delight, as on the savior of a daughter whom she had lost hope of ever seeing again.

  Arthur spent all his time with the family, discussing plans for finding the head.

  On the fourth day her mother’s joy was overshadowed by the incident with the car which almost crushed Miss Adams.

  “The same motor car had already tried to cut me down at an intersection,” Miss Adams continued. “I observed the driver plainly.”

  “You would do better to stay at home for a few days!” said her mother anxiously.

  “Yes, you must be extremely careful,” said Arthur. “The struggle is seriously heating up. It’s possible that Kern has guessed that I am here. Your escape put him on his guard. We must take swift and decisive measures. When I was on my way here, I considered getting in to see Kern under a false name, perhaps as a doctor wishing to work with him, to earn his trust, in order to be admitted to the secret laboratory…”

  “But what about the family resemblance?” asked Miss Adams.

  “Yes, the resemblance… although I have changed significantly since the days when Kern knew me. After all, I have spent the last several years in England. But this plan is already out, because it would take time to fulfil. And Kern will be more suspicious now than ever.”

  “What if we tried to reach him through John, the Negro who works for Kern? Kern treated him roughly, and I don’t think John was especially devoted to him,” Miss Adams suggested.

  “Perfect! We have to try.”

  And then and there they worked out a plan of action.

  They found a reliable individual, whom they invited to attempt the task.

  Bill – that was the individual’s name – quickly struck up an acquaintance with John in one of the cheap restaurants where John usually spent his free time.

  John eagerly swallowed the whisky and soda his new friend offered him, but his tongue did not wag.

  To all Bill’s searching, apparently accidental questions, John either remained silent, or assured him that he knew nothing.

  After two or three unsuccessful evenings, Bill was forced to show his hand. He offered John two hundred dollars if he could just tell him whether the head of Professor Dowell was alive and where it could be found.

  But John, looking innocent, continued to insist that he knew nothing.

  Bill doubled and then tripled the reward, without success. Finally, he offered two thousand dollars.

  John’s eyes blazed with greed. For a moment, he hesitated. Then finally he announced, looking innocent:

  “Well, if only I knew!”

  Plainly Professor Kern was paying John very well indeed, since even a sum such as that failed to tempt him.

  The only result was to convince Bill that John knew about the head’s fate; but for one reason or another, he was staying loyal to Kern.

  When Bill communicated this to Arthur Dowell, Dowell decided that any further bribery would be useless.

  “If John is loyal to Kern, then Kern has already been informed about everything. That means your escape, Miss Adams, and our attempt to bribe John; all of this will have warned Kern sufficiently of the threat assembling against him. For Kern to continue to keep my father’s head under these circumstances – no matter how necessary it is to him – would be either extreme cou
rage, or irrational carelessness. If it is not already too late, we must not delay another day. We can still declare open war. I am Professor Dowell’s son, and I have every right to demand a renewal of the legal investigation and the carrying out of a second search. Either my cards, or Professor Kern’s, will fold. I consider your presence during the search, Miss Adams, to be absolutely essential.”

  “And what if that scoundrel kills her!” old Mrs. Adams squeaked in terror.

  “I will go no matter what!” Miss Adams announced determinedly.

  “I hope that no danger will threaten your daughter. We will be present there with a court detective and plenty of policemen!”

  That very same day Arthur managed to arrange matters with the investigative authorities. The search was arranged for the following day, at eight in the morning, before Professor Kern left his house.

  XII. The Final Meeting

  John the Negro opened the heavy oak door.

  “Professor Kern is not at home.”

  The policeman who had appeared on the scene obliged John to admit the unexpected guests.

  Professor Kern, seeing Miss Adams enter the office, threw her an annihilating glance, then immediately assumed an expression of wounded virtue.

  “If you please,” he said icily, holding the laboratory door open wide.

  The detective, Miss Adams, Arthur and Kern went inside.

  Miss Adams’ heart beat fiercely as she saw the familiar surroundings where she had experienced so much heartrending emotion.

  They found the head of Miss Watson in the laboratory. It was still living, although very much withered. The cheeks had lost their blush and taken on a dark-yellow hue, like a mummy. When she saw Miss Adams, she smiled and blinked.

  In the hope of finding out any information at all, Miss Adams opened the air tap.

  But Miss Watson’s head knew nothing about the head of Professor Dowell. As usual, she babbled all sorts of nonsense. She complained that her hair had been cut; she complained that she was bored and that she was never taken out of the laboratory any more; she recalled Tom.