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Page 75
"We respect your decision."
The Hindu rang a little silver bell upon his table, and the
double doors which occupied one end of the small room opened
silently, revealing a large shadowy apartment beyond.
Rama Dass stood up, crossed the room, and standing just outside
the open doors, beckoned to Nicol Brinn to advance.
"There is no fear," he said, in a queer, chanting tone.
"There is no fear," repeated Nicol Brinn.
"There is no love."
"There is no love."
"There is no death."
"There is no death."
"Fire alone is eternal."
"Fire alone is eternal."
As he pronounced those words Nicol Brinn crossed the threshold of
the dark room, and the double doors closed silently behind him.
CHAPTER XXII. FIRE-TONGUE SPEAKS
Absolute darkness surrounded Nicol Brinn. Darkness, unpleasant
heat, and a stifling odour of hyacinths. He had been well
coached, and thus far his memory had served him admirably. But
now he knew not what to expect. Therefore inwardly on fire but
outwardly composed, muscles taut and nerves strung highly, he
waited for the next development.
It took the form, first, of the tinkling of a silver bell, and
then of the coming of a dim light at the end of what was
evidently a long apartment. The light grew brighter, assuming the
form of a bluish flame burning in a little flambeau. Nicol Brinn
watched it fascinatedly.
Absolutely no sound was discernible, until a voice began to
speak, a musical voice of curiously arresting quality.
"You are welcome," said the voice. "You are of the Bombay Lodge,
although a citizen of the United States. Because of some strange
error, no work has been allotted to you hitherto. This shall be
remedied."
Of the weird impressiveness of the scene there could be no doubt.
It even touched some unfamiliar chord in the soul of Nicol Brinn.
The effect of such an interview upon an imaginative, highly
strung temperament, could be well imagined. It was perhaps
theatrical, but that by such means great ends had already been
achieved he knew to his cost.
The introduction of Maskelyne illusions into an English country
house must ordinarily have touched his sense of humour, but
knowing something of the invisible presence in which he stood in
that darkened chamber, there was no laughter in the heart of
Nicol Brinn, but rather an unfamiliar coldness, the nearest
approach to fear of which this steel-nerved man was capable.
"Temporarily," the sweet voice continued, "you will be affiliated
with the London Lodge, to whom you will look for instructions.
These will reach you almost immediately. There is great work to
be done in England. It has been decided, however, that you shall
be transferred as quickly as possible in our New York Lodge. You
will await orders. Only Fire is eternal."
Again the voice ceased. But, Nicol Brinn remained silent:
"Your reply is awaited."
"Fire is life," replied Nicol Brinn.
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