The War Terror Read online

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE SEX CONTROL

  I did not see Kennedy again that day until late in the afternoon, whenhe came into the laboratory carrying a small package.

  "Theory is one thing, practice is another," he remarked, as he threwhis hat and coat into a chair.

  "Which means--in this case?" I prompted.

  "Why, I have just seen Atherton. Of course I didn't repeat ourconversation of this morning, and I'm glad I didn't. He almost makes methink you are right, Walter. He's obsessed by the fear of Burroughs.Why, he even told me that Burroughs had gone so far as to take a leafout of his book, so to speak, get in touch with the Eugenics Bureau asif to follow his footsteps, but really to pump them about Athertonhimself. Atherton says it's all Burroughs' plan to break his will andthat the fellow has even gone so far as to cultivate the acquaintanceof Maude Schofield, knowing that he will get no sympathy from Crafts."

  "First it was Edith Atherton, now it is Maude Schofield that he hitchesup with Burroughs," I commented. "Seems to me that I have heard thatone of the first signs of insanity is belief that everyone about thevictim is conspiring against him. I haven't any love for any ofthem--but I must be fair."

  "Well," said Kennedy, unwrapping the package, "there IS this much toit. Atherton says Burroughs and Maude Schofield have been seen togethermore than once--and not at intellectual gatherings either. Burroughs isa fascinating fellow to a woman, if he wants to be, and the Schofieldsare at least the social equals of the Burroughs. Besides," he added,"in spite of eugenics, feminism, and all the rest--sex, like murder,will out. There's no use having any false ideas about THAT. Athertonmay see red--but, then, he was quite excited."

  "Over what?" I asked, perplexed more than ever at the turn of events.

  "He called me up in the first place. 'Can't you do something?' heimplored. 'Eugenia is getting worse all the time.' She is, too. I sawher for a moment, and she was even more vacant than yesterday."

  The thought of the poor girl in the big house somehow brought over meagain my first impression of Poe's story.

  Kennedy had unwrapped the package which proved to be the instrument hehad left in the closet at Atherton's. It was, as I had observed, likean ordinary wax cylinder phonograph record.

  "You see," explained Kennedy, "it is nothing more than a successfulapplication at last of, say, one of those phonographs you have seen inoffices for taking dictation, placed so that the feebler vibrations ofthe telephone affect it. Let us see what we have here."

  He had attached the cylinder to an ordinary phonograph, and after anumber of routine calls had been run off, he came to this, in voiceswhich we could only guess at but not recognize, for no names were used.

  "How is she to-day?"

  "Not much changed--perhaps not so well."

  "It's all right, though. That is natural. It is working well. I thinkyou might increase the dose, one tablet."

  "You're sure it is all right?" (with anxiety).

  "Oh, positively--it has been done in Europe."

  "I hope so. It must be a boy--and an ATHERTON?"

  "Never fear."

  That was all. Who was it? The voices were unfamiliar to me, especiallywhen repeated mechanically. Besides they may have been disguised. Atany rate we had learned something. Some one was trying to control thesex of the expected Atherton heir. But that was about all. Who it was,we knew no better, apparently, than before.

  Kennedy did not seem to care much, however. Quickly he got QuincyAtherton on the wire and arranged for Atherton to have Dr. Crafts meetus at the house at eight o'clock that night, with Maude Schofield. Thenhe asked that Burroughs Atherton be there, and of course, Edith andEugenia.

  We arrived almost as the clock was striking, Kennedy carrying thephonograph record and another blank record, and a boy tugging along themachine itself. Dr. Crafts was the next to appear, expressing surpriseat meeting us, and I thought a bit annoyed, for he mentioned that ithad been with reluctance that he had had to give up some work he hadplanned for the evening. Maude Schofield, who came with him, lookedbored. Knowing that she disapproved of the match with Eugenia, I wasnot surprised. Burroughs arrived, not as late as I had expected, butalmost insultingly supercilious at finding so many strangers at whatAtherton had told him was to be a family conference, in order to gethim to come. Last of all Edith Atherton descended the staircase, thepersonification of dignity, bowing to each with a studied graciousness,as if distributing largess, but greeting Burroughs with an air thatplainly showed how much thicker was blood than water. Eugenia remainedupstairs, lethargic, almost cataleptic, as Atherton told us when wearrived.

  "I trust you are not going to keep us long, Quincy," yawned Burroughs,looking ostentatiously at his watch.

  "Only long enough for Professor Kennedy to say a few words aboutEugenia," replied Atherton nervously, bowing to Kennedy.

  Kennedy cleared his throat slowly.

  "I don't know that I have much to say," began Kennedy, still seated. "Isuppose Mr. Atherton has told you I have been much interested in thepeculiar state of health of Mrs. Atherton?"

  No one spoke, and he went on easily: "There is something I might say,however, about the--er--what I call the chemistry of insanity. Amongthe present wonders of science, as you doubtless know, none stirs theimagination so powerfully as the doctrine that at least some forms ofinsanity are the result of chemical changes in the blood. For instance,ill temper, intoxication, many things are due to chemical changes inthe blood acting on the brain.

  "Go further back. Take typhoid fever with its delirium, influenza withits suicide mania. All due to toxins--poisons.Chemistry--chemistry--all of them chemistry."

  Craig had begun carefully so as to win their attention. He had it as hewent on: "Do we not brew within ourselves poisons which enter thecirculation and pervade the system? A sudden emotion upsets thechemistry of the body. Or poisonous food. Or a drug. It affects manythings. But we could never have had this chemical theory unless we hadhad physiological chemistry--and some carry it so far as to say thatthe brain secretes thought, just as the liver secretes bile, thatthoughts are the results of molecular changes."

  "You are, then, a materialist of the most pronounced type," assertedDr. Crafts.

  Kennedy had been reaching over to a table, toying with the phonograph.As Crafts spoke he moved a key, and I suspected that it was in order tocatch the words.

  "Not entirely," he said. "No more than some eugenists."

  "In our field," put in Maude Schofield, "I might express the thoughtthis way--the sociologist has had his day; now it is the biologist, theeugenist."

  "That expresses it," commented Kennedy, still tinkering with therecord. "Yet it does not mean that because we have new ideas, theyabolish the old. Often they only explain, amplify, supplement. Forinstance," he said, looking up at Edith Atherton, "take heredity. Ourknowledge seems new, but is it? Marriages have always been dictated bya sort of eugenics. Society is founded on that."

  "Precisely," she answered. "The best families have always married intothe best families. These modern notions simply recognize what the bestpeople have always thought--except that it seems to me," she added witha sarcastic flourish, "people of no ancestry are trying to forcethemselves in among their betters."

  "Very true, Edith," drawled Burroughs, "but we did not have to bebrought here by Quincy to learn that."

  Quincy Atherton had risen during the discussion and had approachedKennedy. Craig continued to finger the phonograph abstractedly, as helooked up.

  "About this--this insanity theory," he whispered eagerly. "You thinkthat the suspicions I had have been justified?"

  I had been watching Kennedy's hand. As soon as Atherton had started tospeak, I saw that Craig, as before, had moved the key, evidentlyregistering what he said, as he had in the case of the others duringthe discussion.

  "One moment, Atherton," he whispered in reply, "I'm coming to that.Now," he resumed aloud, "there is a disease, or a number of diseases,to which my remarks about insanity a
while ago might apply very well.They have been known for some time to arise from various affections ofthe thyroid glands in the neck. These glands, strange to say, if actedon in certain ways can cause degenerations of mind and body, which arewell known, but in spite of much study are still very littleunderstood. For example, there is a definite interrelation between themand sex--especially in woman."

  Rapidly he sketched what he had already told me of the thyroid and thehormones. "These hormones," added Kennedy, "are closely related to manyreactions in the body, such as even the mother's secretion of milk atthe proper time and then only. That and many other functions are due tothe presence and character of these chemical secretions from thethyroid and other ductless glands. It is a fascinating study. For weknow that anything that will upset--reduce or increase--the hormones isa matter intimately concerned with health. Such changes," he saidearnestly, leaning forward, "might be aimed directly at the very heartof what otherwise would be a true eugenic marriage. It is even possiblethat loss of sex itself might be made to follow deep changes of thethyroid."

  He stopped a moment. Even if he had accomplished nothing else he hadstruck a note which had caused the Athertons to forget their formersuperciliousness.

  "If there is an oversupply of thyroid hormones," continued Craig, "thatexcess will produce many changes, for instance a condition very muchlike exophthalmic goiter. And," he said, straightening up, "I find thatEugenia Atherton has within her blood an undue proportion of thesethyroid hormones. Now, is it overfunction of the glands,hyper-secretion--or is it something else?"

  No one moved as Kennedy skillfully led his disclosure along step bystep.

  "That question," he began again slowly, shifting his position in thechair, "raises in my mind, at least, a question which has oftenoccurred to me before. Is it possible for a person, taking advantage ofthe scientific knowledge we have gained, to devise and successfullyexecute a murder without fear of discovery? In other words, can aperson be removed with that technical nicety of detail which will leaveno clue and will be set down as something entirely natural, thoughunfortunate?"

  It was a terrible idea he was framing, and he dwelt on it so that wemight accept it at its full value. "As one doctor has said," he added,"although toxicologists and chemists have not always possessedinfallible tests for practical use, it is at present a pretty certainobservation that every poison leaves its mark. But then on the otherhand, students of criminology have said that a skilled physician orsurgeon is about the only person now capable of carrying out a reallyscientific murder.

  "Which is true? It seems to me, at least in the latter case, that thevery nicety of the handiwork must often serve as a clue in itself. Thetrained hand leaves the peculiar mark characteristic of its training.No matter how shrewdly the deed is planned, the execution of it isdaily becoming a more and more difficult feat, thanks to our increasingknowledge of microbiology and pathology."

  He had risen, as he finished the sentence, every eye fixed on him, asif he had been a master hypnotist.

  "Perhaps," he said, taking off the cylinder from the phonograph andplacing on one which I knew was that which had lain in the librarycloset over night, "perhaps some of the things I have said will explainor be explained by the record on this cylinder."

  He had started the machine. So magical was the effect on the littleaudience that I am tempted to repeat what I had already heard, but hadnot myself yet been able to explain:

  "How is she to-day?"

  "Not much changed--perhaps not so well."

  "It's all right, though. That is natural. It is working well. I thinkyou might increase the dose one tablet."

  "You're sure it is all right?"

  "Oh, positively--it has been done in Europe."

  "I hope so. It must be a boy--and an ATHERTON."

  "Never fear."

  No one moved a muscle. If there was anyone in the room guilty ofplaying on the feelings and the health of an unfortunate woman, thatperson must have had superb control of his own feelings.

  "As you know," resumed Kennedy thoughtfully, "there are and have beenmany theories of sex control. One of the latest, but by no means theonly one, is that it can be done by use of the extracts of variousglands administered to the mother. I do not know with what scientificauthority it was stated, but I do know that some one has recently saidthat adrenalin, derived from the suprarenal glands, induces boys todevelop--cholin, from the bile of the liver, girls. It makes nodifference--in this case. There may have been a show of science. But itwas to cover up a crime. Some one has been administering to EugeniaAtherton tablets of thyroid extract--ostensibly to aid her infulfilling the dearest ambition of her soul--to become the mother of anew line of Athertons which might bear the same relation to the futureof the country as the great family of the Edwards mothered by ElizabethTuttle."

  He was bending over the two phonograph cylinders now, rapidly comparingthe new one which he had made and that which he had just allowed toreel off its astounding revelation.

  "When a voice speaks into a phonograph," he said, half to himself, "itsmodulations received on the diaphragm are written by a needle pointupon the surface of a cylinder or disk in a series of fine waving orzigzag lines of infinitely varying depth or breadth. Dr. Marage andothers have been able to distinguish vocal sounds by the naked eye onphonograph records. Mr. Edison has studied them with the microscope inhis world-wide search for the perfect voice.

  "In fact, now it is possible to identify voices by the records theymake, to get at the precise meaning of each slightest variation of thelines with mathematical accuracy. They can no more be falsified thanhandwriting can be forged so that modern science cannot detect it orthan typewriting can be concealed and attributed to another machine.The voice is like a finger print, a portrait parle--unescapable."

  He glanced up, then back again. "This microscope shows me," he said,"that the voices on that cylinder you heard are identical with two onthis record which I have just made in this room."

  "Walter," he said, motioning to me, "look."

  I glanced into the eyepiece and saw a series of lines and curves,peculiar waves lapping together and making an appearance in some spotsalmost like tooth marks. Although I did not understand the details ofthe thing, I could readily see that by study one might learn as muchabout it as about loops, whorls, and arches on finger tips.

  "The upper and lower lines," he explained, "with long regular waves, onthat highly magnified section of the record, are formed by the voicewith no overtones. The three lines in the middle, with rhythmicripples, show the overtones."

  He paused a moment and faced us. "Many a person," he resumed, "is abiotype in whom a full complement of what are called inhibitions neverdevelops. That is part of your eugenics. Throughout life, and in spiteof the best of training, that person reacts now and then to a certainstimulus directly. A man stands high; once a year he falls with alethal quantity of alcohol. A woman, brilliant, accomplished, slipsaway and spends a day with a lover as unlike herself as can be imagined.

  "The voice that interests me most on these records," he went on,emphasizing the words with one of the cylinders which he still held,"is that of a person who has been working on the family pride ofanother. That person has persuaded the other to administer to Eugeniaan extract because 'it must be a boy and an Atherton.' That person is ahigh-class defective, born with a criminal instinct, reacting to it inan artful way. Thank God, the love of a man whom theoretical eugenicscondemned, roused us in--"

  A cry at the door brought us all to our feet, with hearts thumping asif they were bursting.

  It was Eugenia Atherton, wild-eyed, erect, staring.

  I stood aghast at the vision. Was she really to be the Lady Madeline inthis fall of the House of Atherton?

  "Edith--I--I missed you. I heard voices. Is--is it true--what thisman--says? Is my--my baby--"

  Quincy Atherton leaped forward and caught her as she reeled. QuicklyCraig threw open a window for air, and as he did so leaned far out andblew shrilly on
a police whistle.

  The young man looked up from Eugenia, over whom he was bending,scarcely heeding what else went on about him. Still, there was no traceof anger on his face, in spite of the great wrong that had been donehim. There was room for only one great emotion--only anxiety for thepoor girl who had suffered so cruelly merely for taking his name.

  Kennedy saw the unspoken question in his eyes.

  "Eugenia is a pure normal, as Dr. Crafts told you," he said gently. "Afew weeks, perhaps only days, of treatment--the thyroid will revert toits normal state--and Eugenia Gilman will be the mother of a new houseof Atherton which may eclipse even the proud record of the founder ofthe old."

  "Who blew the whistle?" demanded a gruff voice at the door, as a tallbluecoat puffed past the scandalized butler.

  "Arrest that woman," pointed Kennedy. "She is the poisoner. Either aswife of Burroughs, whom she fascinates and controls as she does Edith,she planned to break the will of Quincy or, in the other event, toadminister the fortune as head of the Eugenics Foundation after thedeath of Dr. Crafts, who would have followed Eugenia and QuincyAtherton."

  I followed the direction of Kennedy's accusing finger. MaudeSchofield's face betrayed more than even her tongue could haveconfessed.