down here like this merely to back up your own opinion of them eyes and them lips, Mercer?"
HE laughed excitedly.
"You'll see, you'll see! No, I'm not in love. And I want you to help, and not admire. There are only Carson and myself here, you know, and the job's too big for the two of us." He hurried me across the broad concrete porch and into the house. "Throw the cap anywhere and come on!"
Too much amazed to comment further, I followed my friend. This was a Warren Mercer I did not know. Usually his clean-cut, olive-tinted face was a polite mask that seldom showed even the slightest trace of emotion. His eyes, dark and large, smiled easily, and shone with interest, but his almost beautiful mouth, beneath the long slim mustache, always closely chopped, seldom smiled with his eyes.
But it was his present excited speech that amazed me most. Mercer, during all the years I had known him, had never been moved before to such tempestuous outbursts of enthusiasm. It was his habit to speak slowly and thoughtfully, in his low, musical voice; even in the midst of our hottest arguments, and we had had many of them, his voice had never lost its calm, unhurried gentleness.
To my surprise, instead of leading the way to the really, comfortable, although rather gaudy living room, Mercer turned to the left, towards what had been the billiard room, and was now his laboratory.
The laboratory, brilliantly illuminated, was littered, as usual, with apparatus of every description. Along one wall were the retorts, scales, racks, hoods and elaborate set-ups, like the articulated glass and rubber bones of some weird prehistoric monster, that demonstrated Mercer's taste for this branch of science. On the other side of the room a corresponding workbench was littered with a tangle of coils, transformers, meters, tools and instruments, and at the end of the room, behind high black control panels, with gleaming bus-bars and staring, gaping meters, a pair of generators hummed softly. The other end of the room was nearly all glass, and opened onto the patio and the swimming pool.
MERCER paused a moment, with his hand on the knob of the door, a strange light in his dark eyes.
"Now you'll see why I called you here," he said tensely. "You can judge for yourself whether the trip was worth while. Here she is!"
With a gesture he flung open the door, and I stared, following his glance, down at the great tiled swimming pool.
It is difficult for me to describe the scene. The patio was not large, but it was beautifully done. Flowers and shrubs, even a few small palms, grew in profusion in the enclosure, while above, through the movable glass roof—made in sections to disappear in fine weather—was the empty blackness of the sky.
None of the lights provided for the illumination of the covered patio was turned on, but all the windows surrounding the patio were aglow, and I could see the pool quite clearly.
The pool—and its occupant.
WE were standing at one side of the pool, near the center. Directly opposite us, seated on the bottom of the pool, was a human figure, nude save for a great mass of tawny hair that fell about her like a silken mantle. The strangely graceful figure of a girl, one leg stretched out straight before her, the other drawn up and clasped by the interlocked fingers of her hands. Even in the soft light I could see her perfectly, through the clear water, her pale body outlined sharply against the jade green tiles.
I tore myself away from the staring, curious eyes pf the figure.
"In God's name, Mercer, what is it? Porcelain?" I asked hoarsely. The thing had an indescribably eery effect.
