"Now
there are two. Now there are two!"
"What's the matter, Harry?"
Perhaps I was frightened. I do not know. I looked around. The
sound of Watson's footsteps had died away; there was a light in
the back of the building coming toward us.
"Nothing! Only--damn this place, Hobart. Don't you notice it? It's
enough to eat your heart out."
"Rather interesting," said Hobart. It was too interesting for me.
I stepped over to the shelves and looked at the titles. Sanskrit
and Greek; German and French--the Vedas, Sir Oliver Lodge, Besant,
Spinoza, a conglomeration of all ages and tongues; a range of
metaphysics that was as wide as Babel, and about as enlightening.
As Babel? Over my shoulders came the strangest sound of all, weak,
piping, tremulous, fearful--"Now there are two. Now there are
two." My heart gave a fearful leap. "Soon there will be three!
Soon--"
I turned suddenly about. I had a fearful thought. I looked at
Hobart. A strange, insidious fear clutched at me. Was the thought
intrinsic? If not, where had it come from? Three? I strained my
ears to hear Watson's footsteps. He was in the back part of the
building. I must have some air.
"I'm going to open the door, Hobart," I spoke. "The front door,
and look out into the street."
"Don't blame you much. Feel a bit that way myself. About time for
Dr. Higgins. Here comes Chick again. Take a look outside and see
if the doc is coming.
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