Where am I? What has happened since the sudden aggression of which I
was the victim near the pavilion?
I had just quitted the doctor, and was about to mount the steps, close
the door and resume my post beside Thomas Roch when several men
sprang upon me and knocked me down. Who are they? My eyes having been
bandaged I was unable to recognize them. I could not cry for help, having been gagged. I could make no resistance, for they had bound me hand and foot. Thus powerless, I felt myself lifted and carried about one hundred paces, then hoisted, then lowered, then laid down.
Where? Where?
And Thomas Roch, what has become of him? It must have been he rather
than I they were after. I was but Gaydon, the warder. None suspected
that I was Simon Hart, the engineer, nor could they have suspected my
nationality. Why, therefore, should they have desired to kidnap a mere
hospital attendant?
There can consequently be no doubt that the French inventor has been
carried off; and if he was snatched from Healthful House it must have
been in the hope of forcing his secret from him.
But I am reasoning on the supposition that Thomas Roch was carried off
with me. Is it so? Yes--it must be--it is. I can entertain no doubt
whatever about it. I have not fallen into the hands of malefactors
whose only intention is robbery. They would not have acted in this
way. After rendering it impossible for me to cry out, after having
thrown me into a clump of bushes in the corner of the garden, after
having kidnapped Thomas Roch they would not have shut me up--where I
now am.
Where? This is the question which I have been asking myself for hours
without being able to answer it.
However, one thing is certain, and that is that I have embarked upon
an extraordinary adventure, that will end?--In what manner I know
not--I dare not even imagine what the upshot of it will be. Anyhow, it is my intention to commit to memory, minute by minute, the least circumstance, and then, if it be possible, to jot down my daily impressions. Who knows what the future has in store for me? And who knows but what, in my new position, I may finally discover the secret of Roth's fulgurator? If I am to be delivered one day, this secret must be made known, as well as who is the author, or who are the authors, of this criminal outrage, which may be attended with such serious consequences.
I continually revert to this question, hoping that some incident will
occur to enlighten me:
Where am I?
Let me begin from the beginning.
After having been carried by the head and feet from Healthful House, I felt that I was laid, without any brutality, I must admit, upon the stretchers of a row-boat of small dimensions.
The rocking caused by the weight of my body was succeeded shortly
afterwards by a further rocking--which I attribute to the embarking of
a second person. Can there be room for doubt that it was Thomas
Roch? As far as he was concerned they would not have had to take the
precaution of gagging him, or of bandaging his eyes, or of binding
him. He must still have been in a state of prostration which precluded
the possibility of his making any resistance, or even of being
conscious of what was being done. The proof that I am not deceiving
myself is that I could smell the unmistakable odor of ether. Now, yesterday, before taking leave of us, the doctor administered a few drops of ether to the invalid and--I remember distinctly--a little of this extremely volatile substance fell upon his clothing while he was struggling in his fit. There is therefore nothing astonishing in the fact that this odor should have clung to him, nor that I should have distinguished it, even beneath the bandages that covered my face.
Yes, Thomas Roch was extended near me in the boat. And to think that
had I not returned to the pavilion when I did, had I delayed a few
minutes longer, I should have found him gone!
Let me think. What could have inspired that Count d'Artigas with the
unfortunate curiosity to visit Healthful House? If he had not been
allowed to see my patient nothing of the kind would have happened. Talking to Thomas Roch about his inventions brought on a fit of exceptional violence. The director is primarily to blame for not heeding my warning. Had he listened to me the doctor would not have been called upon to attend him, the door of the pavilion would have been locked, and the attempt of the band would have been frustrated.