"You ought to be, Arbuthnot. If it isn't enough to drive a man mad
when he sees himself exactly reproduced in an utterly impossible
moving-picture show exhibited by an utterly impossible young woman in an
utterly impossible underground city, then I don't know what is."
"What do you mean?" I asked, starting.
"Mean? Well, if you didn't notice it, there's hope for you."
"Notice what?"
"All that envoy scene. There, as I thought, appeared Yva. Do you admit
that?"
"Of course; there could be no mistake on that point."
"Very well. Then according to my version there came a man, still young,
dressed in outlandish clothes, who made propositions of peace and wanted
to marry Yva, who wanted to marry him. Is that right?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, and didn't you recognise the man?"
"No; I only noticed that he was a fine-looking fellow whose appearance
reminded me of someone."
"I suppose it must be true," mused Bickley, "that we do not know
ourselves."
"So the old Greek thought, since he urged that this should be our
special study. 'Know thyself,' you remember."
"I meant physically, not intellectually. Arbuthnot, do you mean to tell
me that you did not recognise your own double in that man? Shave off
your beard and put on his clothes and no one could distinguish you
apart."
I sprang up, dropping my pipe.
"Now you mention it," I said slowly, "I suppose there was a resemblance.
I didn't look at him very much; I was studying the simulacrum of Yva.
Also, you know it is some time since--I mean, there are no pier-glasses
in Orofena."
"The man was you," went on Bickley with conviction. "If I were
superstitious I should think it a queer sort of omen. But as I am not, I
know that I must be mad."
"Why? After all, an ancient man and a modern man might resemble each
other."
"There are degrees in resemblance," said Bickley with one of his
contemptuous snorts. "It won't do, Humphrey, my boy," he added. "I can
only think of one possible explanation--outside of the obvious one of
madness."
"What is that?"
"The Glittering Lady produced what Bastin called that cinematograph show
in some way or other, did she not? She said that in order to do this she
loosed some hidden forces. I suggest that she did nothing of the sort."
"Then whence did the pictures come and why?"
"From her own brain, in order to impress us with a cock-and-bull,
fairy-book story. If this were so she would quite naturally fill the
role of t
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