Alice, Where Art Thou? E-Book

John Russell Fearn

• Herausgeber: Wildside Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 46

Beschreibung

Alice, Where Art Thou??

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

ALICE, WHERE ART THOU? by John Russell Fearn

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 1954 by John Russell Fearn.

First published VargoStatten Science Fiction Magazine, April 1954under the pseudonym Volsted Gridban.

Reprinted with the permission of the Cosmos Literary Agency.

Published by Wildside Press LLC.

wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

ALICE, WHERE ART THOU?by John Russell Fearn

This is the strange story of Alice Denham, whom I should have married ten years ago but did not. At the time, as some of the older amongst you will remember, there was quite a stir when Alice disappeared. I was even very close to being accused of her murder, along with Dr. Earl Page. The only reason we escaped was because no trace could be found of Alice’s body—and according to law, no body—no accusation. Instead the case of Alice became relegated to one of those “peculiar” stories, such as footprints mysteriously ceasing to advance through unbroken snow.

I did not give the real facts concerning Alice ten years ago because I knew I would never be believed, nor Dr. Page either. The thing was—and still is—so incredible. And yet it happened.

Suppose we go back to the beginning? My name is Rodney Fletcher. Ten years ago I had just started business on my own as a stockbroker and had every prospect of a successful business career. Today I am comparatively well-to-do, but still unmarried. There can never be anybody to take the place of Alice, as far as I am concerned.

It was just after I had set up in business that I first met Alice. She was a slim, elfin-type of girl with a wealth of blonde hair, smoke-grey eyes, and a tremendous amount of enthusiasm. She first came sailing into my orbit when I advertised for a secretary-receptionist. I had little hesitation over engaging her and in the space of a year she had become the supervisor of my ever-increasing clerical staff.

Inevitably I was drawn to her, and she to me. We exchanged confidences, we dined together. Our friendship deepened into romance; then one warm spring evening at twilight, as we were strolling through the city to keep a theatre date together, we decided to become engaged.

At the time of this decision, which did not come as a surprise to either of us, we were just passing the brilliantly lighted window of a famous city jeweller’s. I think it was the sight of a certain ring that prompted the abrupt decision to become engaged.

That certain ring! If only to God we’d never seen it! If only we had taken another street . . . . But of what avail now to try and turn back the clock? There the ring was—compelling, seeming even to beckon us to look at it. We even forgot for the moment that we had decided to become engaged. Fixedly we looked at that ring. We wondered about it. We exchanged glances of awe.

The ring had been cunningly placed in the centre of the resplendent window so that it automatically attracted the eye. Around it were grouped trays of diamond rings, together with pendants of sapphires, rubies, opals, and all the stock in trade of a high-class jeweller. The shop was still open and within, when at last we managed to drag our eyes from the ring, we could see a glimpse of an elderly man silently writing something in a ledger.

“Did you ever see anything like it, Rod?”

Alice’s gentle, fascinated voice brought my attention back to the ring. The circlet holding the stone was normal enough and made of platinum, but the stone itself was as large as a small pea and radiated colours in a fashion neither of us had even seen before. From the countless facets there flooded a blazing emerald green one moment, or ruby-red the next. We had only to move position by a fraction of an inch and the colour changed again. Once even it seemed to me that there were faint glimpses of colours not within the normal spectrum, colours which one sensed rather than saw. Yet how am I to describe a colour which has no normal parallel? By and large, the stone looked as though it were a composite of all precious gems rolled into one. Quite definitely, neither of us had ever seen anything like it.

And we had just become engaged. Was there anything illogical in the fact that we finally turned into the shop and asked to see the masterpiece at close quarters?

“Ah, yes—the Sunstone,” the jeweller said, smiling, and put aside his ledger. “Quite a remarkable gem….”

He opened the barred cagework at the back of the window and with exquisite care lifted the ring, complete on its plush display case. Still very gently he set it down on the glass-topped counter before us. And all Alice and I could do was stare at it, just as though it possessed some incredible hypnotic quality.

It had no such powers, of course: it was simply that the unearthly, blazing lustres held the eye with a magnetism all their own.

“A wonderful, wonderful stone,” came the jeweller’s voice, and at that I forced myself to look at him. He was an intellectual-looking man of late middle age, with thick white hair curling at his temples.

“Where did it come from?” I asked. “I don’t think I ever saw anything like it!”

“To the best of my knowledge, sir, and I have checked very carefully, it is the only specimen of its kind in the world. It was found originally in South America, became a sacred gem to a race now long forgotten, and eventually fell into the hands of an explorer. After that it travelled considerably, leaving quite a history everywhere it went.”