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Page 72
But he was come to seek the living, not the dead. The figure that he
had seen outside must be within these four walls, there being no other
visible outlet besides the door through which Balder had entered. Was
old Hiero Glyphic lurking in one of these darksome corners, or behind
some thick-set column? The young man looked about him as sharply as he
could, but nothing moved except the shadows thrown by the lamp, which
was vibrating pendulum-like on its long chain.
He approached this lamp, his steps echoing on the floor of polished
granite. What had set the thing swinging? It had a leisurely
elliptical motion, as from a moderate push sideways. The lamp was
wrought in bronze, antique of fashion and ornament. It had capacity
for gallons of oil, and would burn for weeks without refilling. The
altar beneath was a plain black marble prism, highly polished, resting
upon a round base of alabaster. A handful of ashes crowned its top.
Between the altar and the wall intervened a space of about seven feet.
The glare of the lamp had blinded Balder to what was beyond it; but,
on stepping round it, he was confronted by an old-fashioned upright
clock, such as were in vogue upon staircase-landings and in
entrance-halls a hundred years ago. With its broad, white, dial-plate,
high shoulders, and dark mahogany case, it looked not unlike a tall,
flat-featured man, holding himself stiffly erect. But whether man or
clock, it was lifeless; the hands were motionless,--there was no sound
of human or mechanical heart-beat within though Balder held his yet
panting breath to listen. Was it Time's coffin, wherein his corpse had
lain still many a silent year,--only that years must stand still
without Time to drive them on! But this still had had no part in the
moving world,--knew naught of life and change, day and night. Here
dwelt a moveless present,--a present at once past and to come, yet
never here! No wonder the mummies felt at home! though even they could
only partially appreciate the situation.
The clock was fastened against the wall. The longer Balder gazed at
it, the more human-like did it appear. Its face was ornamented with
colored pictures of astronomical processes, sufficiently resembling a
set of shadowy features, of a depressed and insignificant type. The
mahogany case served for a close-fitting brown surtout, buttoned to
the chin. The slow vibration of the lamp produced on the countenance
the similitude of a periodically recurring grimace.
Not only did the clock look human, but--or so Balder fancied--it bore
a grotesque and extravagant likeness to a certain elderly relative of
his, whose portrait he had carried in an inner pocket of his
haversack,--now in Long Island Sound. It reminded him, in a word, of
poor old Uncle Hiero, whom he had--no, no!--who was alive and well,
and was perhaps even now observing his dear nephew's perplexity, and
maliciously chuckling over it!
The young man glanced uneasily over his shoulder, but all beyond the
lamp was a gloomy blank, The same moment he trod upon some tough,
thick substance, which yielded beneath his foot! Thoroughly startled,
he jumped back. It lay near the foot of the clock. He stooped, picked
it up, and held in his hands the well-known haversack, from which he
had parted on board the "Empire State." How his heart beat as he
examined it! It was stained and whitened with salt water, and the
strap was broken in two. Opening it, there were his toilet articles
and all his other treasures,--even the cherished miniature,--not much
the worse for their wetting. So there could no longer be any doubt
that his uncle had come back. Where was he?
That queer fancy about the clock stuck in Balder's head! Somehow or
other it must be connected with Doctor Glyphic. The haversack, dropped
at its foot, was direct evidence. Yet, did ever wise man harbor notion
so irrational! Its manifest absurdity only excuse for thinking it.
With no declared object in view, Balder grasped the clock by its high
shoulders and shook it, but with no result. He next struck the smartly
with clenched fist: the blow sounded,--not hollow, but close and
muffled! The case either solid, or filled with something that deadened
the echo. Filled with what? who would think of putting anything in a
clock? It was big enough to be sure, to hold a man, if he could find a
way to get in!
The sequence of thoughts is often obscure, but Balder's next idea,
wild as it was, could hardly be called incoherent. A man might be
conceived to be in the clock; perhaps a man was in it; but if so, the
man could be none other than Doctor Hiero Glyphic!
This conclusion once imagined, suspense was unendurable. The logician
tried to open the front of the case, but it was riveted fast. With
impetuous fingers he then wrenched at the disc. With a sound like a
rusty screech, it came off in his hands. The lamp so flickered that
Balder feared it was going out, and even at this epoch had to look
round to reassure himself. Meanwhile, a pungent, but not unpleasant
odor saluted his nostrils: he turned back to the clock,--a clock no
longer!--and beheld the unmistakable lineaments of his worthy uncle
peeping forth with half-shut eyes from the place where the dial-plate
had been.
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