It was a strenuous moment, and the most incredible. We all of us knew the doctor. It was not a photograph, nor a likeness; but the man himself. It was beyond all reason that he could be in the jewel; indeed there was only the head visible; one could catch the expression of life, the movements of the eyelids. Yet how could it be? What was it? It was Hobart who spoke first.

"Chick," he asked, "what's the meaning? Were it not for my own eyes I would call it impossible. It's absurd on the face. The doctor! Yet I can see him--living. Where is he?"

Chick nodded.

"That's the whole question. Where is he? I know and yet I know nothing. You are now looking into the Blind Spot. The doctor sought the secret of life--and found it. He was trapped by his own wisdom!"

VIII

THE NERVINA

For a moment we were silent. The jewel reposed upon the table. What was the secret of its phenomena? I could think of nothing in science that would explain it. How had Watson come into its possession? What was the tale he had to tell? The lean, long finger that clutched for brandy! What force was this that had driven him to such a verge? He was resigned; though he was defiant he had already conceded his surrender. Dr. Hansen spoke.

"Watson," he asked, "what do you know about the Blind Spot?"

"Nothing."

We all turned to Chick. Hobart ordered more brandy. The doctor's eyes went to slits. I could not but wonder.

"Chick," I asked, "who is Rhamda Avec?"

Watson turned.

"You saw him a few minutes ago? You saw him with me? Let me ask you."

"Yes," I answered, "I saw him. Most people did. Is he invisible? Is he really the phantom they say?"

Somehow the mention of the name made him nervous; he looked cautiously about the room.

"That I don't know, Harry. It--If I can only get my wits together. Is he a phantom? Yes, I think so. I can't understand him. At least, he has the powers we attribute to an apparition. He is strange and unaccountable. Sometimes you see him, sometimes you don't. The first known of him was on the day Professor Holcomb was to deliver his lecture on the Blind Spot. He was tracked, you know, to the very act. Then came in the Nervina."

"And who is the Nervina?"

Watson looked at me blankly.

"The Nervina?" he asked, "The Nervina--what do you know about the Nervina?"

"Nothing. You mentioned her just now."

His mind seemed to ramble. He looked about the room rather fearfully. Perhaps he was afraid.

"Did I mention her? I don't know, Harry, my wits are muddled. The Nervina? She is a goddess. Never was and never will be woman. She loves; she never hates, and still again she does not love. She is beautiful; too beautiful for man. I've quit trying."

"Is she Rhamda's wife?"

His eyes lit fire.

"No!"

"Do you love her?"

He went blank again; but at last he spoke slowly.

"No, I don't love her. What's the use? She's not for me. I did; but I learned better. I was after the professor--and the Blind Spot. She--"