“ THE DEATH DOCTOR ”

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LX, Issue 11093, 19 April 1933, Page 4

“ THE DEATH DOCTOR ”

by ' Bernard Cronin

CHAPTER ll.—(Continued.) "Very good. The plant, then, is a builder; its energy for building comes from sunlight. The animal is a destroyer: its energy is the potential energy built up into the plant. Now gentlemen if the simple means can be discovered for building up the four* chief elements —carbon, oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen—into a form of assimiliable food, the outlook of man will be completely changed. These elements are in the atmosphere. They only need to be combined with a few simple mineral salts and you have all the food essentials. You follow me?” “Perfectly," van Drift said.

The hollow voice proceeded: “To fix these elements finally, a catalytic agent is required. Shall I explain? One of the most characteristic properties of hydrogen for example, is its combustibility. But perfectly dry hydrogen will not ignite, when combined with perfectly dry oxygen. A catalyser is needed. In this case it is found in water, or in finely divided platinum. Either will do. For years I sought a catalyser to produce Atmosoupe—l hope you approve the name? Literally, it is ‘Soup from the Atmosphere.’ And not unpalatable, either, I can assure you.” Cordery asked: “How are the eleobtained, in the first place? Or, perhaps I should not have asked that?”

“One method," Garner said, without resentment, “would be to resolve the gases to a liquid, by extreme heat. For the laboratory that is practicable; for the individual it is not. I can say no more at present than that a species of photosynthesis is employed. Photosynthesis, in case you do not know, is the manufacture of organic substances under the influence of light. It is one of two major processes carried out by the living leaf. The second is known as transpiration, or the giving off of water-vap-our. In the first, ultra-violet radiation plays a part. Carbon dioxide is absorbed and decomposed, and oxygen is liberated: exactly the opposite. in fact, to what occurs during respiration of leaves.” . “I see,” van Drift said. Actually, however, he was irritatedly conscious of being as far from understanding as ever. He could not rid himself of a queer, underlying mockery in the old scientist’s tones. The blue glasses disconcerted him. He was unable to guage the eyes behind them.

"One thing I may tell you,” John Garner resumed abruptly. “K is possible that in the assimilation of food from the air, in which each chemical constituent is taken in its purest form, lies the secret of the prolongation of life. The elixir vitae, or elixir of life, which occupied the attention of the old alchemists. You may remember that Paracelsus, the Swiss chemist; Descartes, the great French philosopher: Roger Bacon: Francis Lord Bacon; and many others, believed in such an elixir.

“A saying of the ancient alchemy was that there abides in nature a certain form of matter, which being discovered and brought by art to perfection, will convert to itself all imperfect bodies that, it touches. In other words, a philosopher’s stone, or the elixir of life. It is reasonable to believe that there must be in nature some element; that will cure all ills, but one, and enable man to reach patriarchal years.” “And the one illness that would escape it ” van Drift asked. “Death,” Garner said. Cordery cleared his throat, nervously. “You think, then, that in Atmosoupe you have discovered this elixir? A remarkable claim, Mr Garner.” “I did not say so. Ido not know. I have as yet no means of knowing. I merely suggest the possibility.” .. "The effect of such a discovery of synthetic food upon the world in general?” van Drift exclaimed. “Have you considered that, Mr Garner?” “I am considering it now,” the old man replied. The white line of his lips showed once again in a smle. “I am considering many things. Above all, the effect upon the mentality. Only ill minds can flourish in ill bodies. The mass of the poor people . . . .The phsyiologist claims that for the minds to energise effectively in a living body, a certain standard must be kept up, and that a supply of phosphatic salts is requisite for the continuous renewal of life. Imagine the effects of Atmosoupe upon—shall we say, Mr van Drift —a waterside worker?”

van Drift could not restrain a slight expression of the rancour which the sly question provoked.

“There are men who don’t require to have minds. All their needs are bodily. Other men will find them what mind is needed.”

“Certainly—if you seek merely to people the world with brutes. Don’t complain, Mr van Drift, if they turn and rend you,” Garner said. “Of course, I was not wholly in earnest,” van Drift said. He showed his strong teeth in a laugh. "Well, Mr Garner, your achievement is certainly wonderful. I congratulate you. If I can help you in any way, I shall be delighted. We must talk of it again. And how, suppose we have a look at my negroids. You’ll came, too, Cordery? Really,l had no idea they possessed an archaeological importance. I picked them up for a song ...” CHAPTER 111. Duran, peering at his notes in the half-light, was conscious of a feeling of relief on hearing the library vacated. His task was distasteful and his temper, in consequence, was not of the best. His admiration for van Drift’s business genius did not blind him to the fact that his employer sometimes chose rather questionable methods to attain whatever ends he had in view. More than once he had been on the verge of protest. His salary, however, was remarkably generous and he could ill-afford dismissal. Added to this, he liked van Drift personally. Courage is a highly commendable quality and van Drift possessed courage in remarkable degree. However wrong his convictions no one could doubt their sincerity. Strong men are invariably ruthless, van Drift’s ruthlessness was at least, consistent. It deferred to no man. The goal was ahead: he

(Author of “Timber Wolves” "White Gold;” “Salvage; i “Toad;” etc., etc.)

He was equally puzzled to account for Norma, van Drift’s attitude.

She was not in the least in love with Cordery. Duran was quite sure of this. In point of fact, the certainty of his knowledge was becoming irksome and, it might well be, a little dangerous. Duran was not conceited, but neither was he a prude. Norma’s interest in him was growing on the lines of almost pursuit. He was not flattered. He was, if anything, rather bored with the whole business. Within certain limits, however, he felt wise to respond.

He had no wish to antagonise the girl and bring his relations with her father into jeopardy. There was also the fact that he found something intriguing in thus mildly poaching on Cordery’s preserves. He had wondered. once or twice, whether Cordery’s cunning had detected anything of this. Upon the whole he thought not. But he could not be sure. One could never be quite sure with a man of Cordery's calibre. His smile was a mask. Hie mind moved in the dark.

The light-switch was on the wall, by the door. Duran extended his hand, but suddenly withdrew it. Against all logic, he decided not to make use of it. He could scarcely have said what it was determined him to encounter the intruder —if intruder there was—under the existing conditions. Curiously, he felt no fear.- Some sense seemed to reassure him on that point. \He knew only a sharp concern to discover and punish. The sound —as he stood tensely, seeking his direction —had come again. He placed it now, without difficulty. Between himself and the window was a heavy roll-top desk. His mind’s-eye instantly discerned the slow passage beyond the desk of a creeping, hesitating body. Duran grinned. He cleared his throat, noisily, slammed the door — as though he had suddenly left the room, and dropped on all fours. He arrived at the end of the desk, immediately before the window, in time to see a vague form rising from the floor, precisely as he, himself, rose. His outflung hand encountered a shoulder of astonishing softness. His fingers tightened, grimly, regardless of the little gasp of frightened pain that greeted them. (To be continued.)

sought always to reach it with a minimum of circumlocution. Walter Cordery had no such directness. Duran disliked the man, heartily and thoroughly distrusted him. Cordery’s smile put him on his guard. It was, Duran told himself frequently, as false as hell. There was nothing big and bluff about Cordery. His mind nourished itself on the petty larcenies of unprinciple, as it might be. Duran could never understand van Drift’s acceptance of Cordery—first as partner and now as son-in-law

Duran was thinking of this as he gathered his notes together. He dismissed it presently to consider the revelation contained in the conversation just recorded. He was tremendously interested in the facts of old John Garner’s alchemy. The discovery of Atmosoupe, as Duran saw it, was revolutionary. Its result, if adopted universally, could not fail to be arbitrary. He believed that the effect upon mankind would be incalculable. To the great majority the greatest benefit would ensue. There would be no desperation among men any more. Poverty, but not the desperation of hunger and thirst. Jack would be almost, if not quite, as good as his master. It was here, he conceived, that van Drift’s concern took root.

The leisured, wealthy classes would undoubtedly fight, tooth and nail, against the introduction of a cheaply won, perfectly assimilable food, such as Atmosoupe claimed to be. Yet he could imagine tha.t the people themselves would not be altogether in its favour. As an individual production Atmosoupe might be forbidden by law. If that happened, with the decay of the existing food markets,* it was easy to see how the output might be controlled by the monied interests. There was, he saw, much to be decided before one might allot Asmosoupe, definitely, for good or.ill. Duran was folding his notes when a slight rustling attracted his attention. He had noted, as it were, subconsciously, the same sound once or twice before, during the progress of his note-taking. . He had supposed it to come from a perambulating mouse behind the wainscottlng, or the slight movement of the curtains.to the tiny draught that came over the sill of the open window. On this occasion, fully alert, he was sure tha't neither of these explanations would serve. The sound had come from the diagonally opposite corner of the room. The space here was sunk in heavy shadow. A couch and several chairs—the room was' used by van Drift as a small private study—-further helped the obscurity. He strained his eyes but could see nothing.. He had an uncomfortable feeling that someone, or something was moving over the floor, by imperceptible degrees, in the direction of the window.