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Updated: June 3, 2025
I had hoped, and within the hope was an inexplicable shrinking that I would meet Throckmartin at lunch. He did not come down, and I was sensible of deliverance within my disappointment. All that afternoon I lounged about uneasily but still he kept to his cabin and within me was no strength to summon him. Nor did he appear at dinner. Dusk and night fell swiftly.
And one thing now I knew sick at heart and soul the truth had come to me no more need to search for Throckmartin. Behind that Veil, in the lair of the Dweller, dead-alive like those we had just seen swim in its shining train was he, and Edith, Stanton and Thora and Olaf Huldricksson's wife! The car came to rest; the portal opened; Yolara leaped out lightly, beckoned and flitted up the corridor.
Certainly the captain would not turn back to Port Moresby. And even if he did, of what use for me to set forth for the Nan-Matal without the equipment which Throckmartin himself had decided was necessary if one hoped to cope with the mystery that lurked there?
"'It's the first time I've heard it, replied my wife doubtfully. We listened again. Then through the dim rhythms, deep beneath us, another sound came. It drifted across the lagoon that lay between us and Nan-Tauach in little tinkling waves. It was music of a sort; I won't describe the strange effect it had upon me. You've felt it " "You mean on the deck?" I asked. Throckmartin nodded.
For I knew now that Throckmartin was ill indeed but with a sickness the ship's doctor nor any other could heal. "Dead! All Dead!" He was sitting, face in hands, on the side of his berth as I entered. He had taken off his coat. "Throck," I cried. "What was it? What are you flying from, man? Where is your wife and Stanton?" "Dead!" he replied monotonously. "Dead! All dead!"
Then with Huldricksson manipulating our small sail, and Larry at the rudder, we rounded the titanic wall that swept down into the depths, and turned at last into the canal that Throckmartin, on his map, had marked as that which, running between frowning Nan-Tauach and its satellite islet, Tau, led straight to the gate of the place of ancient mysteries.
His shirt fell open at the neck and I looked, in amazement, at the white band around his chest. Even under the electric light it shone softly, as though little flecks of light were in it. Throckmartin seemed only half-awake. He looked down at his breast, saw the glowing cincture, and smiled. "Yes," he said drowsily, "it's coming to take me back to Edith! Well, I'm glad." "Throckmartin!" I cried.
Goodwin," he answered at last, gravely. "Let me sleep over it. One thing of course is certain you and your friend Throckmartin and this man here saw something. But " he was silent again and then continued with a kindness that I found vaguely irritating "but I've noticed that when a scientist gets superstitious it er takes very hard!
By that time, between my straining anxiety to be after Throckmartin, the despairing thought that every moment of delay might be vital to him and his, and my intensely eager desire to know whether that shining, glorious horror on the moon path did exist or had been hallucination, I was worn almost to the edge of madness. At last the condensers were in my hands.
As he reached the gangplank he looked up straight into my eyes, stared for a moment, then waved his hand. And now I knew him. It was Dr. David Throckmartin "Throck" he was to me always, one of my oldest friends and, as well, a mind of the first water whose power and achievements were for me a constant inspiration as they were, I know, for scores other.
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