The Mystics | Page 6

then left, having deposited the
sacred Scitsym with his own hands in the tall iron safe that stood in
Henderson's study. But that annual excitement had lessened with time.
Even a madman may become monotonous when we live with him, day
in, day out, for seven long years; and gradually the attitude of John's
mind had changed with the passage of time. The sense of adventure and
triumphant enterprise had steadily receded; the knowledge that he was
working out a slow, distasteful probation had advanced. Reluctantly
and yet definitely he had realized that his position was not to come and
conquer, but to watch and wait; and this consciousness of a tacitly
expected end had grown with the years--with the growth of his mind
and body. It was not that he was hard-natured. The regularity with

which he despatched his yearly money to his mother--reserving the
merest fraction for himself--precluded that idea. But he was young and
human, and he was youthfully and humanly greedy to possess the good
things of life for himself and for the one being he passionately loved. It
would, indeed, have been an enthusiast in virtue who could have
blamed him for counting upon dead men's shoes.
And now the shoes were all but empty! He stood watching his uncle
die!
Having stayed almost motionless for several minutes, he glanced at the
clock; then moved to the bed, taking a bottle and a medicine spoon
from the dressing-table as he passed.
"Time for your medicine, uncle!" he said, in his quiet, level voice.
But the sick man did not seem to hear.
In a slightly louder tone John repeated his remark. This time the vacant
expression faded slowly from the large, pale eyes, and Andrew
Henderson moved his head weakly.
Seeing the indication of consciousness, John carefully measured out a
dose of medicine, and, stooping over the pillows, passed one arm under
his uncle's neck.
Andrew Henderson submitted without objection, but as his head was
raised and the medicine held to his lips, he seemed suddenly to realize
the position, to comprehend that it was his nephew who leaned over
him. With a spasmodic movement he turned towards John, his lips
twitching with some inward and newly aroused excitement.
"The Book, John!" he said, sharply--"the Book!"
John remained quite composed. With a steady hand he balanced the
spoon of medicine that he still held.
"Your medicine first, uncle," he said, quietly. "We'll talk about the

Book after."
But the old man's calm had been disturbed. With unexpected strength
he raised one thin hand and pushed the spoon aside, spilling the
contents on the bed.
"How can I leave it?" he exclaimed. "How can I go and leave the Book
unguarded?" Again his lips twitched and a feverish brightness flickered
in his eyes as they searched his nephew's face.
"When I go, John," he added, excitedly, "the Book may be in your
keeping for hours--perhaps for a whole night. I know the
Arch-Councillor will answer my summons immediately; but it is
possible he may be delayed. It may be the ordination of the Unknown
that I should Pass before he arrives. If this is so, I want you to guard the
Book--but also I want you to guard my dead body. Let no one touch it
until he comes. The key of the safe is here--" He fumbled weakly for
the thin chain that hung about his neck. "No one must remove it--no
one must touch it until he comes--" His voice faltered.
With a calm gesture John forced him back upon the pillows, and
quietly wiped up the medicine.
But with a fresh effort the old man lifted himself again.
"John," he cried, suddenly, "do you understand what I am saying? Do
you understand that for a whole night you may be alone with the
inviolable Scitsym? 'The Hope of the Universe, by whose Light alone
the One and Only Prophet shall be made known unto the Watchers!'"
He murmured the quotation in a low, rapt voice.
Again the younger man attempted to soothe him.
"Don't distress yourself!" he said, gravely. "I am here. You can trust me.
Lie back and rest."
But his uncle's face was still excitedly perturbed; his pale eyes still
possessed an unnatural brightness.

"Oh yes!" he said, sharply, "I trust you! I have trusted you. I have left a
letter by which you will see that I have trusted you--and that your
fidelity has been rewarded. But this is another matter. Can I trust you in
this? Can I trust you as myself?" As he put the question a sweat of
weakness and excitement broke out over his forehead.
But it was neither his wild appearance nor his question that suddenly
sent the blood into John's face and suddenly set his heart bounding.