"
"Then this would account for the Blind Spot?"
"Exactly. A localised spot, a condition, a combination of
phenomena, anything entering it becomes invisible."
"Where does it go to?"
"That's it. Where? It's one of the things that man has been
guessing at down the ages. The professor is the first philosopher
with sound sense. He went after it. It's a pity he was trapped."
"By the Rhamda?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Who is he?"
Hobart smiled.
"How do I know? Where did he come from? If we knew that, we would
know everything. 'A phantom,' so Watson says. If so, it only
strengthens our theory. It would make a man and matter only a part
of creation. Certainly it would clear up a lot of doubts."
"And the ring?"
"It controls the Blind Spot."
"In what way?"
"That's for us to find out."
"And Watson? He is in this land of doubt?"
"At least he is in the Blind Spot. Let me try the ring."
He struck a match.
It was much as it had been in the restaurant, only a bit more
startling. Then the blue faded, the colour went out, and it became
transparent. For a moment. There was an effect of space and
distance that I had not noted before, almost marvellous. If I
could describe it at all, I would say a crystal corridor of a
vastness that can scarcely be imagined. It made one dizzy, even in
that bit of jewel: one lost proportion, it was height, distance,
space immeasurable.
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