On the day of Eitel’s arrival in Paris there appeared in “Figaro” an article which played the role of a barrel of gasoline poured upon an incipient fire. One of the most renowned authorities in the field of radioactivity was summing up the course of events and reached the following definite conclusion: that the earth was coming to an end, that man is in no position to arrest the breaking up of the atoms within the atomic vortex, that by now the speed of its growth has been constantly progressing, that it is expected in the near future to reach colossal dimensions and velocity, precluding almost an immediate cataclysm. This is imminent and seemed only a question of time. Any struggle with the enemy was fruitless and ridiculous. Civilization has fulfilled its mission, reached its culminating point of development and must leave the stage…
As an aftermath of the article, it appeared as if some sluices have opened in the gigantic city as well as in the hearts of the people. Prayers and anathemas, wailing and sighing, licentious songs and gospels of priests were intermingled and rolled into one. Throngs of insensates appeared in the streets. Some raised their hands to heaven in mute prayer, others openly gave vent to wild profligacies. One great financier and millionaire, now the possessor of only worthless securities, appeared on the balcony of his palatial residence and gazing down upon the maddening crowds, he began to tear into shreds, notes and paper currency worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, shouting in wild frenzy:
“Our earth is coming to an end! It’s the end of the world!”
The wild scenes completely possessed Eitel’s mind. He was certain now that he was summoned from above to save the Earth from the impending destruction and, the only way to accomplish this, was to wipe off from the face of the Earth that person who, in his opinion, was the embodiment of all the dreadful occurrences.
When the atomic vortex flew past Paris without causing any damage, the first wave of refugees that sought salvation outside the walls of Paris, surged back into the city. Eitel dashed off for Genoa. Despite the fact that at that moment the city was not in immediate danger, young Flinder found in it almost the same picture as in Paris.
In the city full of commotion and beset with despair, there was a little island against which live waves dashed themselves to pieces. Here, day and night, in fire and heat of the melting furnaces, and amid the clank and din of machines, thousands of people worked, like the children of Vulcan in the blacksmith shops of hell. The world could rage with madness, as it saw fit, but here they forged implements for the struggle for its existence, while there still was a drop of hope left.
At the time of Deriugin’s arrival, three powerful engines were completed, while another five were still in work. Every day, from early morning, leaving behind him the filthy and narrow streets of the noisy city, the engineer would enter the smoky kingdom of iron and steel, whence it was destined to launch at the needed moment the iron giants, wherever the enemy was expected.
It was here that young Flinder had found him, after an untiring chase. Deriugin was in the yard of the gigantic plant which produced yesterday a new electromagnet which was to be tested this day. At first the engines were tested. The groaning of their oppressive weights shook up the machines with a heavy tremor, so that the earth began to shake under them. Several mechanics, together with Deriugin, walked around the iron monsters, observing their rhythm, breath and the workings of each and every part of them.
The chief engineer, a tall, slim Italian, pointed out some inaccuracies in the refrigerator; a group of mechanics stopped to watch a tiny stream of gas that had been leaking out from somewhere.
Deriugin stepped aside, writing something into his notebook, when suddenly, in the rear of the dark passageway of the interior building, appeared the figure of a man who stopped bewildered in the center of the yard, apparently stunned by the clanking and noise that filled the air from all sides. The visitor’s face seemed familiar to Deriugin, but, for the moment, he could not recollect where he had met these restlessly seeking eyes, the protuberant forehead and hard-compressed lips.
Something strange, impetuous and alarming was in the stranger’s pose, and Deriugin was about to inquire how and wherefore he had come here, when their eyes suddenly met. Within a trice, Deriugin’s memory conjured up the forgotten image for him, and within the same trice the intruder’s eyes became inflamed with such rabid hatred, that the engineer unwillingly retreated. Eitel’s right hand dropped into his pocket and within a twinkle of an eye, Deriugin saw before himself the dark gap of the pistol’s bore.
Not realizing what it was all about, he uttered a cry and dashed off to the side of the ponderous engine. A shot rent the air, followed by another. Deriugin felt a burning sensation on his left shoulder. He turned around. Eitel stood a few feet away from him, aiming at close range for a new shot. From the cabin of the electromagnet a frightened face was peering out. At the refrigerator, the mechanics had gathered into a group, not knowing what to do.
'In this very brief moment, there flashed through Deriugin’s mind a bright thought. He made a sprint to the side of the magnet and shouted to the mechanic:
“Enrico, turn on the current!”
Another shot rent the air. Deriugin dropped to the ground. In the next moment something very astonishing had occurred: the pistol, tom out from Eitel’s hand by the great power of the magnet, flew up into the air the dozen feet 'that separated it from the magnet, struck with all its might against the frame and remained there, as if held up by an unseen hand.
Confounded, Flinder remained standing unmoved, gazing about himself with frenzied eyes. When the people ran up to him and grasped him by the arm, he did not try to resist, but followed silently after them. Turning back his head, from time to time, he looked up bewilderingly at his weapon, which hung upon the strange monster as though it were glued down to it.
Several people ran up to Deriugin and busied themselves about him. Happily, his wounds, one in the shoulder, the other in the left leg, were not dangerous; at any rate, the bone was not touched. He was carried into the central building.
“Well, well, Signor Deriugin, I am happy to congratulate you!” said the chief engineer, after he was bandaged. “You certainly had a lucky escape. Had you not torn the pistol from the fiend’s hand with the aid of the electro-magnet, we would not have had the pleasure of speaking to you now.”
Indeed, the current turned into the field coils had transformed it into a powerful magnet, which attracted Flinder’s pistol.
“Everything is well — that ends well!” replied Deriugin smilingly. “But it is too bad, for the accident will retard my work for a few days.”
A CROSS-EXAMINATION of Eitel proved beyond conjecture that they were dealing with a mentally-deranged person. He was one of those innumerable victims of the turbulent quarter of this century, whose fatigued and strained mind could not resist the powerful attacks of these frightful days. To turn him over to the authorities was not considered a wise move, as the streets nowadays were overfilled with similar madmen. Besides, the city itself resembled a huge Bedlam. It was decided to detain him on the factory grounds under special guard, in one of the rooms of the resident body of engineers.
However, in the pellmell of new events, he was completely forgotten. At the end of the week a dispatch came that the fiery vortex had again appeared on the French coast and it was coursing along the southwestern boundary toward the Mediterranean Sea. Three electromagnets from the Creusot Works were sent out by railroad to intercept it, but they arrived too late. Destroying Toulouse and converting the Haute-Garonne into a veritable desert, the fiery vortex again wended its course over the maritime expanse. Now, within about forty-eight hours, it was expected somewhere on the western coast of Italy. Five new engines, fully equipped, were mounted on platforms in Genoa and shipped to Rome, whence it was easy to move them to any point on the coast. Locomotives stood in readiness, day and night, awaiting orders to fling their loads into action.