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Updated: July 29, 2025
As Serviss followed his guide up the great stairway, he asked himself: "What will she be like? She must be changed deeply changed. How will she meet me?" He acknowledged a growing excitement. She met him so simply, so cordially, with such frank pleasure, that his own restraint gave way at first glance.
Serviss protested that he needed no entertainment, that he was not tired, and that he was well content to sit in the door and smoke and watch the changing glory of the peaks, and this he did while Viola moved about among the workmen in earnest conversation with her step-father. "She is explaining me," Serviss reasoned. "I wish I could hear what she says.
Her distress began to seem a little too theatric, her troubles self-induced all but one madness did in very truth seem to hover over her, a baleful, imminent shadow. Clarke, looming darkly, confronted him in the lower hall. "Well met, Dr. Serviss. I'd like a word with you." "I have a request to make of you," responded Serviss.
There was such conviction, such immutable faith in her gentle voice, that Serviss was confounded. When he spoke, in answer, his voice was lower in key, with a cadence of hopeless appeal. "How do you know these advisers are your husband and your father? You must be very certain of them." "I am certain. I believe in them as I believe in my own existence."
"You all treat me as if I had no more soul than a telephone." "That is very unjust," declared Mrs. Lambert. "This is only one of her dark moods, doctor. You must not think she really means this." The girl's brows were now set in sullen lines which seemed a profanation of her fair young face. "But I do mean it, and I want Dr. Serviss to know just what is in my heart."
Serviss was at first astounded, then hot at the grossness of this insinuation, and his strong, brown hands clinched in the instinct to punish to retaliate but his anger cooled to the level of words, and he said: "This interview has more than convinced me of the justice of Lambert's distrust of you. I shall see him again and repeat the warning I have already given."
He told of his mystification with a laugh in his eyes and with racy vigor of tongue, but Serviss, newly alive to the topic, could not but marvel at the intensity of interest manifested by every soul present. "Disguise it as we may," said the narrator, "this question of the life beyond the grave is chief of all our problems. It is the sovereign mystery, after all."
That is The Sky Pirate , which is an adventure story laid in the year 1936. Its plot revolves around an abduction for ransom in a period which is visualized as rampant with piracy because of the general adoption of air transportation. As usual, fact has outmoded prophecy, for long before 1936 airplane speeds exceeded the 140 miles per hour Serviss predicted.
"Thank you, I should like particularly to do so, I've been for a climb up that peak behind your cottage and I'm tired." Her reserve quite melted, the girl led the way to the door where her mother stood in artless wonder. "Mother, this is Dr. Serviss, of Corlear College." "I'm glad to know you, sir," said Mrs. Lambert, with old-fashioned formality. "Won't you come in?" "Thank you.
Dreaming of other worlds swinging around other suns, seething with strange millions of inhabitants, through all space, I took to reading books on astronomy ... Newcomb ... Proctor's Other Worlds ... Camille Flammarion ... Garret Serviss as he wrote in the daily papers ... and novels and romances dealing with life on the moon, on Mars, on Venus....
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