John Russell Fearn

Quorne Returns


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lapses of memory are plainly accounted for then,” Viona commented. “A Neptunian, sent here, would be versed in the life of his original counterpart, of course, but there might be some things he wouldn’t know, things which even radio waves and television cannot tell to the watchers of Neptune.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      TOO LATE TO ACT

      Abna said: “Hundreds of Neptunians may be in our midst and no normal people are aware of it.”

      “Quite likely.” The Amazon moved restlessly. “Thank heaven that girl brought this to our notice, otherwise months might have elapsed before we found out the deception. Not that any of this is any surprise to me. You remember my saying when we escaped from Neptune, that the last thing I could believe was that the Neptunians were engaged in making themselves resemble Earthlings purely for the sake of it? Not they! Why, there are even duplicates of ourselves on Neptune, the very duplicates which enabled us to make our escape.”

      The Amazon’s violet eyes met Abna’s. At that instant the same thought had struck both of them.

      “Quorne!” the Amazon exclaimed.

      “Yes,” Abna conceded, reflecting. “That guard we defeated when we escaped looked identical to him. Yet the original Quorne is dead.”

      “So we believe,” the Amazon mused. “But—” She stopped, lost in speculation.

      “Would one of you mind telling me what this is all about?” Viona pleaded. “What is there about this man named Sefner Quorne which always seems to trouble you? I’ve heard you mention him so often, and always in the terms of healthy respect.”

      The Amazon hesitated and gave Abna a glance. Though she no longer re­membered the fact, Viona had once been the wife of the original Sefner Quorne and by him had had a son, Sefian. The child’s mathematical genius, at the age of two years, had saved the Universe from destruction, but since that very conquest had involved the death of the son and produced disastrous bereave­ment upon Viona, Abna had blotted from her mind all memory of her son and Quorne. But she was always dimly aware that, somewhere, a piece was missing from her life.

      “Quorne,” Abna said, “was my adviser on Jupiter, Viona, long before you were born. More than once he has tried to master the Solar System with his superb science, and each time your mother and I have beaten him. The last we heard of him, when the Dark threatened to engulf the Universe, was that he had been killed—by a being of another world named Kron. But on Neptune, when we escaped from there, there was an individual heading the guard who looked exactly like him. A man with purple eyes and jet-black hair. If he really was Quorne, reincarnated, then we can be pretty sure that this Neptune coun­terfeit business has his mind back of it.”

      “Meaning,” Viona asked, “that this is yet another effort on his part to wrest power?” Then, as her father nodded, she laughed contemptuously. “And is he fool enough to think he can stand up to us three? Why, between us, we can—”

      She stopped. Something was different about the laboratory. She and her mother and father noticed it at the same moment. It was hazing strangely under the force of electromagnetic stresses. Then all three of them cried out helplessly as unendurable anguish descended upon them and they were snuffed into oblivion.

      Gradually the blankness of total unconsciousness lifted. Minds and then bodies knitted themselves swiftly back into place. Unhurt, but utterly bewildered, the Amazon, Abna, and Viona stood gazing before them—once again at a laboratory, but certainly not their own. What appeared to be Earthmen were grouped around a massive switch-panel, the foremost being slender in build, remarkable for his high forehead, polished black hair, and heliotrope eyes,

      “Quorne!” the Amazon exclaimed.

      “A most successful transit,” Quorne commented, smiling tautly as he came forward. “I assume that I have no need to explain to such distinguished scientists as yourselves what has happened?”

      “Presumably,” Abna retorted, “you have transferred us from Earth to here—Neptune—by the process of atomic dissembly, our bodies being broken down into atomic aggregates and then reassembled here?”

      “Exactly,” Quorne agreed. “But there is another ramification. At the moment of departure from Earth you were re­placed by exact counterparts, in identi­cal clothing. Observe.”

      He gave an imperious signal and in response two of the men at the switch-panel became active. The laboratory lights dimmed somewhat and upon a screen there appeared another laboratory, the one which the Amazon, Abna, and Viona had formerly been occupying. Now they intently watched what ap­peared to be themselves looking about them in wonder.

      “Your counterparts,” Quorne explain­ed dryly, as the lights came up again. “But only in appearance. Their minds, as you have good reason to know, are of a very low order, as is their physical strength.”

      “I suppose,” the Amazon said, “that those are the three whom we used as decoys when we escaped captivity here?”

      “Exactly. I leave it to you to imagine the effect when those three duplicates of yourselves are ranged on my side on Earth. The people will have nobody to turn to. They will be at the mercy of what they think are four of the greatest scientists ever known—the truth being, of course, one scientist and three dum­mies who will do exactly as I tell them.”

      “Would it be asking too much to inquire how you come to be alive after Kron of Zanji killed you?” the Ama­zon asked.

      “You are acquainted with the boundless abilities of mind, Miss Brant, so the solution should have occurred to that able brain of yours. If you found your body destroyed and your mind free—and then discovered an identical body—what would you do?”

      “Take possession, granting the other mind was weaker than mine.”

      “In my case it was,” Quorne said. Then his eyes went to Viona. “My wife does not seem to have much to say,” he commented.

      Viona looked at him. “Are you referring to me?” she demanded. “I’m not your wife, and never will be.”

      “Not very convincing,” Quorne replied acidly. “What became of Sefian, our son, who was going to do so much?”

      “I can only assume,” Viona replied, “that you are completely insane.”

      It was Quorne’s turn to look puzzled. He concentrated for a moment and then frowned. “Very strange. In her mind I read no recollection of me at all, and even less of Sefian.”

      “Sefian died destroying the Dark which threatened to overwhelm the Universe,” Abna replied. “Viona does not remember that happening, any more than she remembers Sefian. You, too, are obliterated in her thoughts.”

      The purple eyes sharpened. “In other words, Abna, you used that mind of yours to blot out her memory of me?”

      “I did. And her mind must be the sweeter for it.”

      Quorne tightened his thin mouth for a moment and then he relaxed. “Oh, very well. Since the original Quorne’s body died, I suppose the claim is no longer valid. Not that it signifies now in any case. I have far more things to do than concern myself over Viona.”

      Viona gave a bewildered look but did not say anything. The conversa­tion had sailed far above her head.

      “With your arrival here,” Quorne said, “my plans are ready for action. You will have gathered that these people of Neptune, intelligent though they are, are entirely under my dictates? Including Dral, the leader of the state. I intend to return to Earth and there, with your duplicates, seize the power I’ve so long striven for. After that will come Mars—again by counterfeit work, our agents being mixed unidentifiably with the originals so that they cannot be detected. You three will stay here—and unlike the last time there will be no escape. I would kill you, but I may have need of your scientific knowledge someday.”

      “And you think we’d give it?” Abna