What was there to explain? How could he explain that which, to himself, was unbelievable? Besides, the girl had served her purpose.If he could read the mind of one, he could read the minds of all.By some unexplainable miracle, to his ordinary equipment of senses a sixth had been added.As easily as, before that morning, he could look into the face of a fellow-mortal, he now could look into the workings of that fellow-mortal's mind.
The thought was appalling.It was like living with one's ear to a key-hole.In his dismay his first idea was to seek medical advice--the best in London.He turned instantly in the direction of Harley Street.There, he determined, to the most skilled alienist in town he would explain his strange plight.For only as a misfortune did the miracle appear to him.But as he made his way through the streets his pace slackened.
Was he wise, he asked himself, in allowing others to know he possessed this strange power? Would they not at once treat him as a madman? Might they not place him under observation, or even deprive him of his liberty? At the thought he came to an abrupt halt His own definition of the miracle as a "power" had opened a new line of speculation.If this strange gift (already he was beginning to consider it more leniently) were concealed from others, could he not honorably put it to some useful purpose?
For, among the blind, the man with one eye is a god.Was not he--among all other men the only one able to read the minds of all other men--a god? Turning into Bruton Street, he paced its quiet length considering the possibilities that lay within him.
It was apparent that the gift would lead to countless embarrassments.If it were once known that he possessed it, would not even his friends avoid him? For how could any one, knowing his most secret thought was at the mercy of another, be happy in that other's presence? His power would lead to his social ostracism.Indeed, he could see that his gift might easily become a curse.He decided not to act hastily, that for the present he had best give no hint to others of his unique power.
As the idea of possessing this power became more familiar, he regarded it with less aversion.He began to consider to what advantage he could place it.He could see that, given the right time and the right man, he might learn secrets leading to far-reaching results.To a statesman, to a financier, such a gift as he possessed would make him a ruler of men.Philip had no desire to be a ruler of men; but he asked himself how could he bend this gift to serve his own? What he most wished was to marry Helen Carey; and, to that end, to possess money.So he must meet men who possessed money, who were making money.He would put questions to them.And with words they would give evasive answers; but their minds would tell him the truth.
The ethics of this procedure greatly disturbed him.Certainly it was no better than reading other people's letters.But, he argued, the dishonor in knowledge so obtained would lie only in the use he made of it.If he used it without harm to him from whom it was obtained and with benefit to others, was he not justified in trading on his superior equipment? He decided that each case must be considered separately in accordance with the principle involved.But, principle or no principle, he was determined to become rich.Did not the end justify the means?
Certainly an all-wise Providence had not brought Helen Carey into his life only to take her away from him.It could not be so cruel.But, in selecting them for one another, the all-wise Providence had overlooked the fact that she was rich and he was poor.For that oversight Providence apparently was now endeavoring to make amends.In what certainly was a fantastic and roundabout manner Providence had tardily equipped him with a gift that could lead to great wealth.And who was he to fly in the face of Providence? He decided to set about building up a fortune, and building it in a hurry.
From Bruton Street he had emerged upon Berkeley Square; and, as Lady Woodcote had invited him to meet Helen at luncheon at the Ritz, he turned in that direction.He was too early for luncheon;but in the corridor of the Ritz he knew he would find persons of position and fortune, and in reading their minds he might pass the time before luncheon with entertainment, possibly with profit.For, while pacing Bruton Street trying to discover the principles of conduct that threatened to hamper his new power, he had found that in actual operation it was quite simple.He learned that his mind, in relation to other minds, was like the receiver of a wireless station with an unlimited field.For, while the wireless could receive messages only from those instruments with which it was attuned, his mind was in key with all other minds.To read the thoughts of another, he had only to concentrate his own upon that person; and to shut off the thoughts of that person, he had only to turn his own thoughts elsewhere.But also he discovered that over the thoughts of those outside the range of his physical sight he had no control.When he asked of what Helen Carey was at that moment thinking, there was no result.But when he asked, "Of what is that policeman on the corner thinking?" he was surprised to find that that officer of the law was formulating regulations to abolish the hobble skirt as an impediment to traffic.
As Philip turned into Berkeley Square, the accents of a mind in great distress smote upon his new and sixth sense.And, in the person of a young gentleman leaning against the park railing, he discovered the source from which the mental sufferings emanated.
