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Updated: May 25, 2025
"I will not say that no! For there seems to have been a time when we were all on the same plane " He paused, and there was a moment's tense silence. The little silvery chime of a clock in the saloon struck twelve. "Good-night, Dr. Brayle!" I said. He lifted his brooding eyes and looked at me. "Good-night!
He made a mute gesture of denial, and with slow difficulty drew another chair up beside mine, and dropped into it with an air of heavy weariness. "I am not ill now," he said "A little while ago I was very ill. I was in pain horrible pain! Brayle did what he could for me it was not much. He says I must expect to suffer now and again until until the end." Impulsively I laid my hand on his.
"All that electric light is rather ostentatious," said Dr. Brayle "I suppose the owner wants to advertise his riches." "That doesn't follow," said Mr. Harland, with some sharpness "I grant you we live in an advertising age, but I don't fancy the owner of that vessel is a Pill or a Plaster or even a Special Tea.
No atom, however infinitesimal, is without origin, history, place and use in the Universe and I, a conglomerated mass of atoms called Man, resolved to search out the possibilities, finite and infinite, of my own entity. With this aim I began with this aim I continued." "Your task is not finished, then?" put in Dr. Brayle, with a smilingly incredulous air.
How was that?" and Brayle looked up sharply with sudden interest. "I don't know how," replied Harland, "A drop or two of harmless- looking fluid worked wonders for me and in a few moments I felt almost well. He tells me my illness is not incurable." A curious expression difficult to define flitted over Brayle's face.
I found my best refuge in silence, and I listened in vague wonderment to the flow of senseless small talk poured out by Dr. Brayle, apparently for the amusement of Catherine, who on her part seemed suddenly possessed by a spirit of wilfulness and enforced gaiety which moved her to utter a great many foolish things, things which she evidently imagined were clever.
"Well, before we all hate each other!" I said, playfully "It is quite on the cards that we shall come to that! Dr. Brayle thinks my presence quite as harmful to Catherine as that of Mr. Santoris; I am full of 'theories' which he considers prejudicial, and so, perhaps, they ARE to HIM!" Mr. Harland drew closer to me where I stood leaning against the deck rail and spoke in a lower tone.
Catherine took very little part in the conversation, but she listened intently her colourless eyes were for once bright, and she watched the face of Santoris as one might watch an animated picture. Presently Dr. Brayle and Mr. Swinton, who had been pacing the deck together and smoking, paused near the saloon door. Mr. Harland beckoned them.
Brayle doesn't wish it!" I echoed "And why?" "Well, he thinks it will not be good for me and and he hates the very sight of Santoris!" I said nothing. She rose to leave my cabin. "Please don't think too hardly of me!" she said, pleadingly, "I've told you frankly just how I feel, and you can imagine how glad I shall be when this yachting trip comes to an end."
"I won't have that, Brayle!" he said, sharply "I tell you I won't have it! That's the truth! and there's no getting over it. Nothing gives small minds a better handle for hatred than superiority especially when that superiority is never asserted, but only felt." "You surprise me," murmured Brayle, half apologetically "I thought " "Never mind what you thought!" said Mr.
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